Work Text:
Do you remember what it was like?
To die, gracefully?
To have your wings torn off,
Gutted, the blade buried deep,
Your heart, bleeding, failure.
Breathe
Fill your lungs with blood and air,
Pressure, set to burst—
And Remember.
Dying changes a man,
Even when he knows he's Doomed,
That was the only thing he could be, after all,
After everyone else was gone.
That's the definition of failure.
ALL MEN DIE.
But when? Couldn't you have stopped it?
Well, yes, of course. That's how Time worked.
Loops and mirrors and dimensions and christ,
You hated that you had the potential to be a god.
Gods die too, anyways, ironically.
Just like anything else.
Time kills everything.
Everyone you've ever met has died at some point.
You didn't witness them all or anything—
Hell, that'd be unrealistic.
But you watched enough of them. Too many.
You lived through them all too
(save one, you left her)
It's exhausting.
You've seen yourself die too,
Dead little yous, lying like signposts, warning you—
Don't go this way! Don't do this!
Blood, red, S T O P
Broken swords still in their tiny fingers,
Pointing the way towards oblivion.
You're the lucky one. The Alpha that won't die.
Except—suddenly—you've become a Beta,
The Omega, the ending, the only,
Time travel did that too.
And that's exactly how you Doomed yourself.
From that moment, gears shifting and records spinning,
There was a timer counting down on your life.
It was sort of a blessing that you couldn't see it,
Couldn't know how many breaths you had left.
Each one felt like you were stealing it
From that entity that controlled everything
Even your domain, Time,
Fuck the Man(TM)
So what if you were going to die?
You were going to make sure that time didn't repeat.
Your body would be the last (and only) signpost,
For this little past self of yours.
ALL MEN DIE.
Are you ready?
Maybe, you say, Fuck you.
The little voice in your head goes silent.
You're going to at least go down fighting.
Swords always felt good in your hands,
Even when your fingers were so small
They were still pretty small, weren't they?
Huh.
Wings spread, expression stoic,
ALL MEN DIE.
But you aren't afraid.
You're ready.
You're Doomed, the time is ticking,
This is the endgame.
Touchdown, or whatever.
ALL MEN DIE.
It's going to at least be badass.
And, fighting with an ally you missed,
This was surely a way to go.
(ALL BOYS DIE.)
You die.
Then he dies.
The Doomed countdown—0000:00
f41lur3.exe
--->> executed