#implied ivantill

[lumiestia]

heart shaped tooth

[simbasomba]

Haha wait what

[thecraftyninjacat]

happy birthday ivan 🥀

[fizzypinkblooded]

i WAS going to dump a bunch of till drawings together later but fuck it this one gets posted on its own early

[roann3]

Love—Humanity’s Biggest Curse and Blessing

A freeform fanfic or some sort. Written post-Karma (which I missed the livestream, and I'm still mad for myself abt it).

Summary:

Love is humanity’s oldest curse and blessing. Perhaps, it was a karma sent for Mizi (and everyone else) for dared to invoke. And yet, they decided to love anyway.

(Or: A messily written fic about what’s POSSIBLY going on within the casts in Karma after I missed the live. Very rushed)

Note: This is my first time publishing and writing something like this seriously. Please be aware there might be some possible mischaracterization. Also, English isn't my first language, so there will be lots of errors and weird dictions. This was written messily and very rushed, I'm aware. Sincerely, I apologize for all of those.

Crossposting this from my AO3 too

---

Since long ago, ever since life existed, love has always been a foundation in its creation—in one way or another. Regardless of the circumstances, love would bloom, crawl, and force its way into every hand and breath that belonged to them. It has been the root of every living being, including humans. 

Even if it grows from a place as dejected as this. Even if it’s so pure, until everything around rots it. Even if they force their way through as intense as it seems. Desperate, pure, messy, imperfect—one word can never explain it. Even with multiple words, they don’t always make sense; they’d clash and contradict each other. Yet it is the pair that has held on since the beginning. Was it karmic for us to simply wish something beyond our ride?

Love has always been a belief for those who follow it or not.

To some, they live to worship it as their god and universe.

To some, they live to yearn for it, yet feel undeserving of such a shallow feeling.

To some, they live to love everyone despite their unresolved feelings towards them.

To everyone, it was the root of a lot of things.

For the longest time, Mizi thought she could escape it and somehow a happy ending would drag its way to her. Yet that very decision to stay oblivious has led her to this. A mess. Does she regret? Does she suffer? Should she feel relief, or guilt? Just like before, one feeling clashes with another. Her breath caught at the sight—what sight? Her vision blurred. A fist clenched as she grabbed Luka’s hair, wrenching his face toward her.

What a pitiful sight. Should she feel upset? Should she be mad? Should she feel… guilty? 

“Neither you nor I…”

Her voice staggered. How could she do this? Mizi would think to herself. A flash of everyone’s faces would flash before her eyes. Was it the guilt speaking or her own heart? What’s the difference anyway if it all rooted back in her?

“... deserved to live.”

---

The stage was bright, as bright as it could ever be. Loud and full of hysteria, boisterous, filled with the aliens’ chants. It was like a guidance, a compass—at least it is to Luka, whose entire life was driven solely to perform and entertain. It’s his entire purpose, his entire experience. To perform meticulously and perfectly under the charm of a prince. Those cheers were like guidance for Luka. Something he could never understand, yet he has to anyway if he wants to live. It was written in his blood, heart, breath—he was the prince of the stage; this is exactly how to live, right?

Or so he thought.

Until a certain someone shows up and shows him something. A guidance—one that’s different from those cheerings. A different anchor that held his hand under the so-called tree as he count his fingers. A smile adorned each of their faces, full of innocence and love. Not sure what, but Luka made sure it won’t ever slip from his hands again. For she was his anchor, his compass in his life now. He would keep her safe as long as she was in his hands.

Or so he thought.

So, when his guidance died in his hands, she would whisper something with such gentleness—could Luka truly protect Hyuna as he initially thought?

“Luka, live with love.” She said right before her body limped down to the floor, slipped from his hands, that he claimed would protect her. There was a crack somewhere—not sure was it his heart or hers.

How could she?

How could he?

Live with love? With his reason to live just left him?

His last memory was blurry. He remembers Mizi beating him up with eyes filled with rage yet remorse. And then the next was fire. But clearer than everything, beside Hyuna, was his figure—Hyunwoo. Luka wondered how everything would have gone if there was another way to keep his love instead of the one he committed.

And finally, the last memory was of his very guidance slipped, passed right in his embrace while protecting him—the very thing he claimed he’d do to Hyuna.

---

Everything happened so fast when Mizi stood up. One moment it was Till, and now she saw the figure of Sua flash her eyes as the rocket she just unleashed burned everything down on the stage. Full of laughter, full of love. She’d cradle the face of her beloved like there was no tomorrow to worry about. The nights where they’d practice together, the night where she’d held Sua’s face naked in the bath, the nights where she’d discreetly spy on Sua practicing her death, swearing she’d stay oblivious and keep on pretending—only for her to run and hug her very source of suffering and blessing anyway.

The stage was bright, brighter than it ever was. Loud and full of hysteria, boisterous, filled with the panicked voices of the rebels, humans, and everything around. The crackles of fire swallowed each panicked scream of everyone around. 

Luka sat there motionless, the fire consumed him whole. Would he have survived had anyone helped him? What’s the point anyway—his guidance wasn’t in his hands anymore. There was nothing to survive for anymore for Luka. The temperature rose, soon to blanket his princely body in a cocoon.

Soon there would be no prince no more—at least not the one we know.

---

As if mocking, or perhaps grieving along with Mizi, the fire around her. With everyone standing as they turn into ashes and flies away like those snows she’d saw back in the Anakt garden. The figures of everyone she once knew, while she was still unable to drag her body out despite the fire.

Mizi sobbed into Till’s body, desperately fighting and praying to whatever out there—and secretly to her God too. And for once, she could have her prayer answered. She thought she was finally going insane, or maybe it’s just a piece of her mind trying to save her from going so. An angelic figure, petite, with a white dress and familiar black hair, embraced them both. 

And then Mizi heard it. 

A heartbeat. She swore she did. She did—she swears it! Yes, yes, it is a heartbeat—she could hear it… right in her ear when she pressed her face against Till’s chest.

“ANYONE PLEASE—!” With swollen eyes, she looks around and flaunts, desperately, panicking, grabbing one of the rebels’ clothes—is that Isaac? It was blurry, “Please… he’s… he’s alive! Please… save him. It’s- it’s what she would’ve wanted.”

She begged, desperate—pathetic, maybe. Was it the reason Till liked her? Because she would save humans? Perhaps not, Till’s reason to like her back then might be reasonably childish, but he was full of love nonetheless. Deep inside, Till has always been full of love, since he grew up with love and was gifted with love too.

Had he survived, would they have grown close to each other in the future?

Till and Ivan, that’s it. A stubborn person with an even more stubborn admirer. Even love filled each of them, even if they couldn’t catch each other’s language. Despite it all, Mizi feels like Till knew, or at least had hints, that this Ivan guy was either very stupid or just couldn’t show what his heart yearned for. And so Till let him hang around—perhaps Ivan isn’t as bad as he makes himself out to be.

Mizi wanted to save that boy, the boy who was filled with love. So, at least, there would be someone even dearer to remember him. So, at least, his sacrifice before this round wouldn’t go to waste. Unlike her (so she thought of herself). So, at least there’ll be just one more person in the future to save the other, too. She wanted to save Till. Just as much as she wanted to save Sua.

In the end, it would lead us back to her—the one we’d call a witch now. Even after her disappearance. She who is always searching for love.

---

In the end, it has always been in us all—to love and to be loved. Each of the desires that consumes, in every one of their own way, has always existed; and it’s called love. 

How could something so shallow gut us so completely? How could you blame each of them, disregarding that their feelings are untrue or at fault? How could everything the way it is will always remain a mystery to us, including their endings. Because love is love, even if it doesn’t suit your taste, even if it can’t be portrayed properly by the holder of it, even if we didn’t understand it, love is love—and that’s what has led us so far in survival, or was it selflessness?

Love is the root of each being—including human’s. So, love. Love, regardless of it.

That’s what Mizi would have wanted.

That’s what Sua would have wanted.

That’s what Till would have wanted.

That’s what Ivan would have wanted.

That’s what Hyuna would have wanted.

That’s what Luka would have wanted.

That’s what Isaac, Dewey, Jacob, and everyone in Anakt would have wanted.

Because if love is rooted in humans, then this was all humans’ doing; every right, every wrong, every act and consequence—each of it. Everything that was done and given, it was all humans’ biggest curse and blessing. Humans’ biggest mistake and prayer. Humans’ biggest exploitation and cultivation. Love is a karma none of us prepared for, yet we would always wish for.

Let love burst our hearts—let them bloom joy, even if it crushes us.

So, live with love, don’t let the feeling stay shallow in your heart, let it be a universe of your own.

[thecraftyninjacat]

TILL WIN