#Character death

[sleepy-drawss]

Stay gold

Moments before epic the musical starts to play 😚

(She’s going on an Odyssey inspired trip after comin back to life)

Anyways, RIP my girl, really sucks when your lifespan is connected to the harbinger of chaos’s destiny.

[player-tag]

orphan child (epic the musical fic)

telemachus-centric fic, angst, 557 words

cross-posted on ao3

Odysseus’s bow was not hard to string, Telemachus has realised. 

When he strings the bow, he does it with ease. The men around him mumble in amazement. Not a single one of them could even get the string to reach both sides of the bow.

Telemachus takes a breath. Nocks the arrow, draws it back. He aims, and gently—

Lets go of the arrow.

It goes through the first axe. 

Telemachus does not remember his father, except for rough hands and hooded eyes, though the look in them was  always gentle.

It goes through the second axe.

Telemachus was three years old when his mother first tells him of his father. His laugh, the way he’d give her flowers, the way his voice would soften when speaking with his sister. 

Third axe—

The suitors have been in Penelope’s palace for years, and Telemachus remembers them being there as far back as he can remember anything else. They would grin and smile at him, initially, but now—

Fourth axe.

Growls and snarls started when he was eleven. They would push and shove, trip, laugh at his bloodied knees. Telemachus didn’t know how to fight. He knew how to shoot a bow, and to the suitors, that was cowardice above anything else.

Fifth.

His mother had locked herself in her room at some point. He doesn’t remember when. The war had been over for over a year, and still— 

Sixth—

The sobbing at the beaches. He would beg and beg and the storms never seemed to stop. Poseidon seemed to laugh at him, the water lapping at his hands.

Seventh.

Telemachus taught himself to throw punches. He’d hit trees and bushes, dart between rocks on the mountains. He’d aggravate the goats and then dodge each horn they aimed at him. He still couldn’t beat the suitors, but at least he can stop them from scratching like desperate cats at his mother’s door.

Eighth. 

He caught his mother crying on his bed, once. When he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, she pulled him in and cried into his shoulder instead. The sick feeling in his stomach still hasn’t left his head.

Ninth—

His mother had been preparing the challenge since he was young. She always knew his father may not return, but she wanted to make sure he’d live in the palace as its rightful ruler. He has been able to string the bow ever since he was thirteen.

Tenth.

Athena had taught him more than he could ever teach himself. When she appeared to him during the fight, he’d assumed it was Hermes playing a sick joke on him before he took him to the underworld. But she’d raised him from tartarus, and she’d raised him a beast of his former self. 

Eleventh. 

“Your father isn’t coming back. It’s time.”

“Mother—”

“You are a man. Act like it.”

He’s ignored the tears in her eyes, the tremble in her voice. He nodded, and prepared.

As expected, no one else could do it. He was the last in the line.

Twelfth—

Straight into his mother’s heart.

The gasps around him are shocked and disappointed. The deal has been sealed.

“Telemachus, son of Odysseus,” The priest announces. “King of Ithaca.”

Orphan, lonely, and determined.

Athena’s ghost hand touches his shoulder as he stares at his mother’s smiling, dead face.

[tossawary]

One of the things that I really enjoyed about the "Epic of Gilgamesh" is that Gilgamesh is a shitty person. Like, he's a king and two-thirds divine and all that, a warrior among warriors, his experiences could not be more different from the average person, and yet none of that saves him. I think the messages about grief and mortality hit as hard as they do because he's so selfish and privileged and awful at the beginning, before being irreversibly changed by friendship and love and loss and regret. He has all of this classical "greatness" and that does not spare him. He has been changed and chooses to change, and there's no miraculous reward for that. None of the widespread pain he's caused and is still capable of causing his subjects spares him either. There's something striking in seeing this greedy, cruel, mythologically "heroic" figure be so deeply humbled by a universal tragedy; to see him essentially crying out, "Not even me?" and receiving the firm answer of, "No, not even you."

[spinchip]

In the dream there was like a landslide or something, and Zane is swept away into the river. I think he caused it? As a self sacrifice to save the others thing i think? i'm not sure but it was described in my mind like a fanfiction I was writing. heres specific lines I remember:

Zanes POV

this was okay. he knew this was coming. His sleep was filled with water- he'd dreamed he was drowning his whole life. he'd done what he had to do and now there was nothing left except the weight of his soaked clothes and the dark pit opening up below him. this was a promise the universe had given him coming to fruition. He was going to die here. He was always going to die here.

and later on, after the others are rescued-

The evening news reports on it later, about the dead and the living and as-on-now still missing. Zane is in that last category, his body lost down the river somewhere. They were going to use his yearbook photo- one where he's stiff and still, smiling like he thinks he should and not how he ever really did. The ninja come together to send a heavy file filled with other photos to use instead- there is no one left in Zane's life that will advocate for a nicer picture of him. They owe it to him to make sure he's remembered correctly. \

this was a sad, sad dream lmaooo

I just had a dream that started out as the Office fanfic (??? Ive seen like six episodes??) And transformed mid way into an incredibly sad tlnm fic

[frosted-co0kies]

been really into tsp lately (for the third time). i think they would be friends

(also full unobscured narrator text is in alt)

[themightyhumanbroom]

It's always risky killing off a character but if you have to, you must have them HAUNT the narrative. Let their death and absence be constantly felt at some level.

[firedragon1321]

[mothofmyth]

Wayne Munson living on the breadline. Wayne Munson who can't afford rent on his home AND a kid, so he moves to the trailer park and gives Eddie the bedroom. Wayne Munson picking up every shift he can to put food in his kid's belly and a roof over his kid's head. Wayne Munson who's back hurts from sleeping on the couch and doing manual labour for 12 hours a day. Wayne Munson who wouldn't change a thing, even when Eddie doesn't graduate, and then doesn't graduate again. Wayne Munson who became a very rich man after Eddie died. Wayne Munson who still sleeps on the couch in a run down trailer, while the bed lies cold and empty.

Wayne Munson who swore he would give the rest of his life to his kid the day he became his. Wayne Munson who didn't go back on that promise even after his kid died. Wayne Munson who has a bed ready and waiting when his kid comes back from the dead. Wayne Munson who readily accepts any and all changes his kid came back with. Wayne Munson who cries and holds his kid tighter than anything when he returns. Wayne Munson who quits his job on the spot to cook a warm meal for his kid and his new boyfriend when he hesitantly introduces them to each other.

Wayne Munson who lives a long and happy life, and finally passes away surrounded by family. Wayne Munson who gets the happily ever after and the ending he deserves.

[cricket-mound]

please don’t take him away. please don’t.

alt title is pls don’t separate them <33 they (me) cannot handle it </33

[rin-may-1103]

The Disappointment.

This may or may not have multiple parts, depending on whether I feel like writing more. (dcxdp, demon twin au.) also based on some post I read a while ago... can't remember for the life of me who wrote it but if any of you guys do, let me know.

"This way," Mother hissed, snatching Danny's wrist tightly. Damian lagged behind, twisting his head this way and that, keeping an eye out for anyone following them.

"Quick now, we must hurry." She hissed again, her eyes darting back and forth, eyeing the small nicks and scratches she had left previously to lead them away.

Danny glanced back at his brother, watching as he scowled and defiantly lifted his head. His baby brother would die before he allowed anyone to see him defeated.

Glancing back to the path, Danny watched as Mother took down anyone who was in their way, killing without hesitation. As he watched another body hit the floor, Grandfather's muttered words from when he left dinner, ran through the back of his head, "Bring the disappointment to me after sundown. I've seen enough."

There was nowhere in the world they could hide that Grandfather wouldn't follow. They would be hunted for the rest of their short lives, hiding in fear like cowards. Grandfather would not rest until he drew blood.

"In here, Habibi, quiet now. Quickly, both of you." Mother finally let Danny's wrist go, darting across the hall to open the secret door. Danny moved to the side, signaling to Damian that he would keep watch. His brother nodded his head and quickly made his way over, ducking into the small, dark, and eerie corridor.

Mother crouched next to Damian, running her hands over his face like this would be the last time she would see it. knowing her, she probably expected it to be. No one went against their grandfather without severe consequences.

Glancing over his shoulder, Danny studied the shadows; there was a lookout patrol moving closer, which meant they only had a minute before they were discovered. Gritting his teeth, Danny darted across the hall, but instead of joining his mother and brother in the dark corridor, he pushed the wall back, leaving only the missing brick his mother had initially taken out.

"Danyal!" his mother hissed, her voice full of stern panic.

"Apologies Mother, but I can not let you do this," Danny replied, glancing to the side to see how much time he had left. Forty seconds. Crouching down, he picked up the brick and looked back at his mother. Damian stood next to her, his brows furrowed in confusion. Obviously, he hadn't figured out Danny's plan, otherwise he would have started shouting at him.

Mother stared at him for a second, her stern eyes wavering for the first time in Danny's life that he could remember. "Take care of him for me, keep him safe when I can not," Danny asked, grabbing the hood hanging around the back of his neck.

Mother's eyes teared up, but she straightened her back, her black hair framing her pretty face. "You've made up your mind then," she said, her voice low and steady. She rested her hand on Damian's shoulder, giving Danny a nod of understanding. "You are like your father, his love makes him weak."

"But," she continued, kneeling down in a bow, "You are of the demon's blood, it runs in your veins just like mine. Your actions will not be forgotten, nor will they be for nothing. You have my word, tifl alqamar. I love you, Habibi."

Danny nodded his head, unable to voice the thoughts clogging his throat. Instead, he took a silent breath, pulled his hood and mask into place, and shoved the final brick into place. Sealing off his precious family just in time to hear the guards around the corner.

Turning around, Danny silently stalked forward, drawing his shoulders back. The group rounded the corner and stopped, watching him in anticipation. Pitching his voice just slightly to the left and rolling his tongue, Danny spoke in a neutral voice, "take me to grandfather."

The two guards in front shared a look, but the ones in the back straightened up and moved aside. Marching forward, Danny passed the two hesitating guards and with a quick slice, brought them to their knees. He needed this to work, there was no room for mercy, no matter how much he hated it.

"I am the grandson of the demon head, you will respect me as you respect him. there will be no next time." Danny continued walking, pretending to not care if the two managed to follow or not. the remaining guards trailed behind him, silently observing him.

Danny was glad Mother had insisted on them matching today. otherwise, his plan would have failed long before he made it to his grandfather's door.

Stopping in front of the painted carved wood that was grandfather's door, Danny idly studied the carvings and statues around the grand hall. He remembered all the stories of how grandfather had collected them over his lifetime; grand stories of bloodshed and cunning manipulation.

His eyes settled on the one farthest away, with the least interesting story. It was considered ordinary, placed next to art worth billions. But it was Danny's favorite. It was a simple green crystal, carved like a crescent moon.

so simple, yet the most beautiful piece in Danny's opinion. He had always hoped he would die beneath the stars and his ever-faithful friend the moon. Maybe, instead of beneath them, he could die amongst them.

He would take it with him, he decided.

Turning sharply, Danny marched over to the small pedistal and plucked the crystal into his hand. Wrapping his fingers around it, he shoved it into a side pocket and returned back to his position.

They only had to wait for another minute before the door opened, grandfather's servants clearing a path for Danny to walk through.

"I see your mother did not drag you away," Grandfather mused, sitting in his large chair. His dark eyes studied Danny's form, taking in the katana on his back, and the hood and mask concealing his face. He was dressed like he would for a mission; no discernable features, no sign of who he was or wasn't. The perfect image of an assassin.

"at least you aren't a coward," Grandfather hummed, standing from his seat. He slowly pulled out his own katana, aiming it at Danny in a challenge. "no, just disappointing. but you are my blood and that earns you the right to die an honorable death. Draw your sword child, and fight like the warrior you are."

Danny bowed like he had been taught, then without another moment of hesitation, drew his sword and lunged.

He wished he could say it was a drawn-out battle of strength and minds, but it was not. for Danny was only ten years old, and his grandfather had hundreds of years of training and discipline behind him.

he gazed up at his grandfather as his knees hit the ground, his katana dropping to the ground as his hand reached up to the sword impaling his chest. Grandfather's eyes were filled with nothing but contempt, contempt for the useless boy he had just sentenced to death.

but his contempt did not bother Danny, no instead it drew a smile to his face. As much as Grandfather lorded his sharp mind over them, he had never been able to stop Danny from surprising him. So, with a burst of adrenaline, Danny allowed the small shuriken he hid in his sleeve to drop to his left hand and buried it deep into his grandfather's chest.

grandfather lunged back, pulling his katana with him, removing the only thing keeping Danny upright. Danny's body hit the ground, and with the last of his strength, he twisted his head so he could listen as his grandfather cried out in anger.

Grandfather's breath was heavy, the sound of him removing the dagger filling the silence. the shuriken was dropped to the ground with a sharp clatter, falling just a few feet from Danny's face.

"you," Grandfather huffed, "aren't such a disappointment after all. I'll grant you one last honor and keep you in the family tomb. Rest now, Damian, you have fought well."

Danny smiled, the cold feeling of blood loss crawling through his body, but not fast enough to block out the pressure of the moon crystal still in his pocket. He hoped Mother had gotten Damian out in time, and he hoped Damian could forgive him for what he had done.

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 5

Masterlist

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence. Word Count: 2330

The two boys walk shoulder to shoulder with completely silent steps as they follow their Grandfather down the long empty corridor. While doing so Damian takes a chance to steal a glance at his brother beside him. He knows Danyal and Grandfather's relationship is unsteady at times what with his brother always asking questions. It is something that even he has had to scold Danyal for; to not question what Grandfather is telling them to do. 

When Damian looks he sees that while Danyal does have a deceivingly blank face. His eyes though tell a different tale; his brother has never been able to hide how expressive his eyes are. They are filled with questions and wary. Damian is tempted to reach out, and try to subtly remind him to not be so outspoken in Grandfather’s presence. He knows that would only cause more trouble for Danyal if he was caught doing so.

So instead he directs his attention forward once more, and hopes that Danyal won’t cause too much trouble with whatever lesson Grandfather has planned. 

Soon enough though the three of them are arriving at an all too familiar doorway. One that would lead them straight to the Lazarus pits. This must be an important lesson indeed then for the older man to want to bring them here. It is not a place he usually likes to let them enter; he says it is somewhere the two of them must earn the privilege of being. 

Upon entering the first thing Damian felt was the heat. The air was hot and almost suffocating the closer to the pits they got. The pits themselves glowed a toxic green, and looked as if it was boiling as the water bubbled all around. 

It isn’t until Grandfather is standing in front of the pit that he finally turns to address the two of them, and gestures to the pit behind him. “This boys, is an al Ghul's birthright. Danyal, what is the definition of a birthright?” 

It’s an odd question for Grandfather to ask, and Danyal must feel the same based on the way his brows furrowed in momentary confusion. “A birthright is a particular right of possession or privilege one has from birth.” 

“Yes, exactly. What you left out though is that birthrights are especially directed towards the first born.” Grandfather’s voice is steady and slow as he speaks each word. 

Damian and Danyal immediately meet each other’s eyes as they take in Grandfather’s words. The undertone meaning of his words could be taken many different ways after all, and as much as it annoys Damian to admit he’s the younger twin. 

“The funny thing about that though is that even birthrights can be easily taken,” he continues on with his gaze shifting sharply between the two of them. “All it takes is one failure, and everything you’ve ever had is suddenly gone. That’s why it’s important to make sure you have the loyalty of those around you. Damian, what is the definition of loyalty?”

Immediately he speaks up in response with a question directed at him, “Loyalty is a strong feeling of support or allegiance.”

Just as he finishes speaking, four of the city’s high ranking guards make themselves known by finally stepping out of the shadows. They stay very much out of reach, but their visible presence was enough of a threat as is. 

While Damian only takes mental note of their positions, refusing to show any wariness for the situation as he continues to stand steady in front of their Grandfather. Danyal on the other hand though visibly tenses shifting his head towards the new arrivals before turning a sharp look towards Grandfather and speaking out of turn. “What is this?” 

“This Danyal is your first test to prove yourselves worthy of the al Ghul name.” He pulls two katanas out of his robes, and throws them towards them. “Now, a fight to the death. Prove yourself to me that you deserve your name. Only victory will earn you your place here.” 

Those words are the same as putting oil on fire because instantly the four other assassins are surrounding them to attack. Instinctively Damian and Danyal move to stand back to back with one another. Mother always noted how even in battle the two of them always just had to be near each other. 

They moved like a well-oiled machine, as one, with each attack that was thrown their way. The number of opponents quickly dwindled down to 3 to 2 then 1 until all of the foes were eliminated with limited damage done to their person. With the fight over Danyal takes a moment to reach out and squeeze his shoulder in a comforting manner before they turn to face Grandfather, and await his review of their performance. 

“Hmm.” Grandfather's unimpressed stare is enough for Damian to know that they must have done something extremely wrong. The older man never waits to critique them after a fight. 

“Gran-” Danyal begins to speak; to question once again. 

“Shh, you do not speak to me until after the fight is done. If you wish to risk your name though then by all means speak freely.” 

… after the fight is done? Which means the fight is still going, and with only two individuals left that can only mean one thing. The others were a mere distraction; the real fight was the one against each other. A fight to the death a voice in the back of his head reminds him. Only one of them will be walking out of here the heir to the Demon head. 

Damian hears Danyal make a sound of clear displeasure, and opens his mouth to argue with Grandfather. Before he can though Damian quickly strikes forward to hit his brother with a move he knows Danyal can easily block against.  

"Damian, what are you doing?" Danyal angrily growls at him as their weapons are now exchanging blows. Both of them doing nothing more than playing pretend with the way they're currently fighting; stalling.

"You heard Grandfather Danyal, there is only one way this fight is going to end."

"And so you just blindly listen?"

"There is no going against him; the only thing we can do now is fight with honor."

"I'm not going to kill you, Damian!"

"You're right … because it will be me killing you brother." He'll make it quick, he promises himself. He will always love his twin, but the idea of going against Grandfather is simply not something Damian can do. So he will fight, give his brother peace, and carry this death with him forever. 

With that Damian shifts his stance and goes to attack with a deadly blow. Danyal does block it though, and in a matter of seconds emotion on his face ranges from anger to disappointment as he comes to terms with the fact that Damian had actually tried to strike him down. 

Danyal using his emotions shifts his stance as well to counter with his own attack, and just like that it begins. 

The problem that comes with fighting someone who you have trained with since the beginning is that both know each other's strengths and weaknesses. Their normal spars, while exciting, had always been exhausting based on just how long the fights lasted. 

Selfishly, Damian was glad about that for once. He wanted this final dance between them to last forever; if it did then there would be no need to ever say goodbye. 

This had to be done right? Grandfather wouldn’t make them fight like this for nothing. 

"I know you are angry, Danyal. I am as well, but something else must be going on for him to decide to do this!" Damian quietly pleads for his brother to understand why this is happening. 

"You have always blindly followed that man; it's just something that you do." Danyal strikes once more and manages to unbalance him. "When will you learn that not everything he says is true?" 

Danyal of course doesn't hesitate to take advantage of his momentary unsteadiness, with doing so he kicks Damian's feet out from under him while also disarming him in the process. He's on his back before Damian can even gather himself, and by the time he realizes this Danyal is standing above him; both katanas now sitting at his throat. 

He knows that even the slightest movement and he’d have a cut on his throat that would be unrecoverable from. 

"Stay down, brother." 

Still standing right by the pits, Grandfather takes a few strides forward to where Danyal and him are currently in their standstill. His face shows nothing, but anger and disappointment as he stares at them. "Well Danyal, what are you waiting for? Kill him." 

"No." 

"…No?" Grandfather says slowly, tone dangerous. 

"No!" Danyal turns back to him, and removes the katanas from his throat as he speaks, "Not until you explain what all this wa-." 

"No more words, Danyal? That's a first from you." Damian was confused for only a second about what exactly had his brother going silent. It became clear though once he saw a metallic gleam from his Grandfather's hand; a dagger positioned to stab his brother in the back. “Now drop your weapons.” 

Once Danyal has thrown both katanas off to the side Grandfather forces them to take a few steps back allowing Damian to quickly stand once more as he watches by. 

“... I was never leaving this room either way was I? Win or lose it didn’t matter.” 

“That right there is your problem, Danyal, you ask far too many questions.” Grandfather pushes the blade just hard enough to cause a gasp from his brother, “You are no longer an al Gluh. You will die here being a nobody.”

Danyal’s voice is strained as he sneers, “Well, if I can’t be someone in life, then I guess I’ll have to be something in death; that be a symbol, a message, or a warning. That I will promise you.” 

“I look forward to seeing it.” 

Damian thinks for a second that Grandfather was killing them both as his own chest felt pain when he sees the dagger in Danyal's back being pulled back to reveal a now red stained blade. For how could the universe let him enter this world with his brother only for it to deny taking him with Danyal at the end?

Everything stops as the two brothers stare at each other. Only it's not anger that builds between them, it's something bittersweet instead; a sad smile. It only takes a moment though for all of that to disappear as Danyal, probably using what strength he had left breaks away from Grandfather's hold. Though based on the amused look the older man has he definitely let Danyal go; if only to see what sort of plan a dying boy could have.  

Instead of going for one of the discarded blades that lay on the ground near him though, Danyal takes a few stumbling strides away, and throws himself into the Lazarus pit. 

"Hmm if Danyal wishes to experience dying once more than who am I to stop him." Grandfather says more annoyed than anything before his eyes sharply turn to him, "When he rises you will finish him this time, Damian. I'd hate to have to start all over again with a new heir, but it can be done. You understand don't you?" 

“Of course, Grandfather.” his voice hollow as he accepts both the now being handed to him. His eyes though never leave the last spot from where Danyal disappeared; waiting. Only nothing ever happens, and Damian isn’t sure if that is better or worse. 

-

“...Mother came in not long after that begging to know what had happened, but Ra’s had forbidden me from speaking of it. And I, like the foolish obedient child I was, listened.” Damian for the first time since he started talking looks up at his family that are sitting around him.

“Damian, what happened wasn’t-” Dick reaches out and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“No, Richard.” Damian interrupts, “I played my part in all of it, and no amount of placating words are going to change it.” 

“Damian.” His father’s voice is steady, but the sorrow he’s trying to mask is evident, “What can we do to help you?” 

“What?” 

“It sounds like you were never allowed to grieve for Danyal. Is there anything I can do to help you? Duke mentioned making a memorial for Danyal; it’d give him a place in the manor even if he can’t physically be with us.” 

“I’d- I’d like that.” 

-

Danyal wasn’t sure what he was thinking when he jumped into the Lazarus pit. It was just the one thing he knew would give him a fighting chance to stay alive; at least for just a moment more. 

Instead of popping right back out of the water though he felt himself floating down, down, and down. His mind was foggy, and Danyal was fighting just to keep himself awake at this point. He didn’t even have enough strength to react when a figure shrouded in purple entered his vision. 

“A symbol, a message, or a warning hmm? I can think of nothing more that describes you perfectly. Rest well young one, I will be seeing you again when the time is right.” 

That was the last thing Danyal heard before losing he completely lost consciousness, and when he woke up once more he was lying face down on the ground in a place unrecognizable to him. It took him far longer than he would like to admit to find an exit to this unknown cave he’s now in; even longer to find a road. 

Eventually, after a few hours of walking though he finally comes across a sign, “Amity Park?” 

[shyjusticewarrior]

[tossawary]

Bail Organa is barely in "Revenge of the Sith" and he's such a badass in those few moments that it's wonderful. The Jedi have been declared traitors? Better go pick some Jedi Council members up personally and smuggle them onto Coruscant to destroy the trap beacon. Yoda tries to assassinate the new Emperor? Bail Organa is waiting solo outside in the getaway speeder, giving free taxi rides for people trying to kill dictators. Anakin Skywalker has turned to the Dark Side and killed Padmé? Better adopt and raise Darth Vader's daughter with unconditional love. And after this movie is over, Bail is apparently going to go right back to work in the Imperial Senate while helping to found the Rebellion, because this superspy does not fucking blink.

[sikuena]

" i'm the face that you have to face, mirroring your stare- i'm what's left, i'm what's right, i'm the enemy."

[despairots]

PIECE OF LOVE! — till ivan | alien stage.

till said he liked you, but he always looked at mizi whenever she walks past. maybe if he looked back, he would notice you. waiting, staring, wanting it to be your turn before you finally looked the other way.

content warning | character deaths, swearing, unrequited love, brief cannibalistic metaphors, love triangles, male reader but not mentioned (they/them prns).

till never looked at you, if he did (which is rare), it would be because of you talking to him just to get his attention. despite him saying he liked you when you both were young, he never gave you anymore attention once mizi arrived. till never talked to her, always expecting her to look back at him without asking her for it.

maybe that’s what you felt when someone you love is looking everywhere but you. you were always there for him, he knew too, always comforting him in his darkest times, praising him when he did a good job at his practice, making him gifts so he can be happy, but not once did he return it.

does he appreciate it? yes. returns your love? no.

till doesn’t know it but maybe if he looked back, he would see who was waiting for him all this time. it was only a matter of time before they turned away from him too when he finally looks back, and you were just waiting for you to eventually give up on him.

praying, wanting, needing for it to happen. if only things could be that easy, you would’ve been a lot more free. instead, you’re bounded to be hopeless forever, no matter how many times your alien owners tried to cheer you up. gifts, clothes, toys, stuff you needed to live until this day, it would never work.

it was until recently, at the rip age of 17, that you finally grew up and matured. turning around and living the life of a young star, your owners busting their asses for you to live a life of a celebrity. it felt good to finally be free, maybe you missed being chained down to till, after all, you still cared for him.

you wanted him to be apart of you, you still wanted him carnally, sinking your teeth into him, almost like you could smell his flesh from miles away. all that you concluded that you wanted to let go so bad, was that you still loved him.

till never looked at you.

“ [name]? “

ivan’s touch on your cheek woke you up, realizing you slept on a couch, uncomfortably so from the neck in your pain when you sat up. his black pupils that had a hint of red stared right back into yours as he kneeled infront of you while cradling your hands.

“ivan..?” you trailed off before realizing he won his match, making you softly smile, “congratulations.” ivan nodded back in acknowledgment before he stood up, pulling you up with him to bring you into a hug, putting your arms around him as you buried yourself in his neck. you were lucky ivan was here with you, loving you like till could never bring up the courage to do.

now, as you raise up your platform, dressed in white with the boy you once called yours beside you, a look of concern glistening in his eyes, wondering why you weren’t looking at him like you used too. all you were doing is staring at the ground, like you lost the will to win.

till never looked at you.

watching ivan die, just to save till with no regrets while giving him a goodbye kiss as he fell to ground made you realize something, ivan looked at both till and you, just to die for both of you. when he died, you died alongside him, now till has to go up against you.

till watched you walk up the stage, wanting to get this round over and down before he followed you like a lost dog. he never heard you sing before, he never listened to your rounds or music, he was too busy with his but once he heard you live, you sounded ethereal, pulling him into your downfall.

he didn’t notice that he was being your back up vocals before you grabbed his hand, mic just inches away from your lips, did he start his singing part. till noticed how dead your eyes looked, how cold your skin felt, and how you harshly let his hand drop yours grasp.

his eyes kept following your figure, noticing how smooth and soft your movements were, aswell as how soft your voice was being when you looked at him whenever he looked away from you. despite everything, you could never hate him.

you, who didn’t wish him harm.

you, who wished he looked back at you.

and you, who didn’t want to win.

because of that, you grabbed his wrist to pull him into a short kiss, pulling away until he pulled you back in, shocking you more than anything. a part of you wanted you to believe that he was only doing it because he missed mizi, that you were just filling in the role of her until he pulled away.

a sad smile on his face as his lips moved, saying words that you weren’t able to hear, there was a ringing in your ears, the scoreboard showing that you won. till managed to catch the look of disbelief when your eyes went back to him, he was glad that the glint in your eyes were back, just not the way he didn’t want it to come back.

the tight feeling on his neck disappeared, reaching up to grasp at it did he realize you placed it on yours. no, no! he’s already lost mizi, ivan, and now, you? it’s like the world didn’t want him to be happy with the amount of blood splattered on his hands.

your smile, and ivan’s smile will now haunt his dreams, watching your body collapse onto the ground next to him with your blood on his cheeks did he yell out of despair, cradling your body close to him as the crowd watched in disbelief.

till never looked at you.

he always did, whenever you weren’t looking in that case.

“i’m sorry for not loving you enough.”