OW
Joy does not come easily. Not since the doctor's been gone. A storm has taken root in Aban’s mind—wild, desperate, and unrelenting. It howls through his thoughts, rattles in his chest, and refuses to quiet.
Even now, there are moments where he forgets. His hand drifts across the sheets at night, searching for the steady thrum of the doctor’s pulse, but his fingers find only emptiness. His traitorous soul pleads for a heart that no longer beats. His flesh aches for the warmth of a body long gone. His ears strain for a voice that will never again break the silence.
And still, night after night, he reaches out.
He drinks just to feel some kind of warmth, but it never lasts. The burn fades too quickly, leaving only the hollow ache in his chest, which Ivo used to fill. He wears the doctor's clothes until they hang off him like a second skin, fabric worn thin from desperate hands clinging to what little is left. He buries his face in the collars, inhales deep, searching for a scent that time is stealing from him. But it’s fading—just like everything else.
So he watches those stupid telenovelas the doctor loved so much, letting the overly dramatic sobs and badly written love confessions fill the silence. He scoffs at their predictability, but still, he watches. Every night. The same episodes. The same storylines. He waits for the doctor’s laughter, for the amused sound he used to give at every plot twist. But it never comes. It never will.
And still, he watches.
Every morning, he makes two cups of coffee—one for himself, one for the doctor. He doesn’t think about it; his hands move on their own, guided by muscle memory, by a love that refuses to rot. He steams the Austrian goat’s milk just the way the doctor liked it, watching the froth rise, the scent curling into the air like a ghost.
And then he drinks them both.
He never liked the taste of the doctor’s order, but that doesn’t matter to him. He forces it down, warm and bitter, a punishment, a prayer. At least it makes the absence feel less real and stifling. Some mornings, he catches himself placing the second cup across the table, waiting. Staring at it, watching the steam dissipate into nothing.
He knows that nobody will drink the coffee other than him. But still, he waits.
He tells himself that if he cries enough, if he drowns himself in grief, maybe the universe will take pity and return what it stole from him. He prays—kneeling on the floor and sobbing until his ribs ache, until his throat is raw and his lungs rattle with the weight of unshed screams. His hands tremble; they clutch at empty air and desperately try to grasp something that isn’t there.
Aban was never a religious man. He never believed in gods or fate or miracles. Yet still, he prays. As if grief alone could bridge the chasm between life and death.
He is a dancer whose body moves to a rhythm no one can hear, spinning in an endless, futile waltz and waiting for a partner who will never return. A singer whose voice has been stolen. A scientist who holds all the secrets of the universe in his hands but cannot make a single soul understand one.
Nobody could ever begin to understand what he lost—what he’s condemned to live without, day after day.
The warmth of gentle, calloused hands. Unspoken adoration wrapped in sharp edges, tangled with beauty, anger, and pain. The quiet comfort of soft evenings he spent crocheting, the golden light of the setting sun casting long shadows as Ivo’s fingers worked deftly, repairing one of his creations—his eyes alight with focus, the hum of his breath filling the room.
Now, there is only silence. The void of his absence echoes in every corner of the space they once shared, the unspoken promises of things left unfinished. And Aban is left, holding on to the fragments of a life that no longer exists, his heart a hollow ache, unable to fill the space where Ivo once stood. And yet, in the stillness, the memories cling to him, jagged like glass shards embedded in skin. He can almost hear Ivo’s voice in the soft creak of the floorboards and feel his presence in the cold drafts that slip through the cracks. But it fades. Always fades.
We’d both be staring at something beautiful
Museum dates where she stares at the art and I stare at her.
Ya know I was thinking about (maybe giving GUN more credit than they deserve but like) what if GUN knew Ivo wanted more human connection than he let on so they just keep sending agents into Ivos space. They know it wont work out but that little bit of attention and human interaction keeps Ivo somewhat pliable and working with them but they never get too attached (Ivo eventually will lose his temper and fire them or theyll refuse to work with him anymore) and weaken the control GUN has on Ivo.
But then Ivo has started rejecting agents more and more often and hes been getting harder to manipulate and control.... so then they choose Stone. And Stone has such a good, tolerant temperament and a dogged efficiency for work they figure he'll stay in Ivo's space long enough for them to build up more reserve agents so throw at Ivo again...
BUT... Stone genuinely admires Ivo and his work and in a way that Ivo knows hes not just gonna take it. He still knows Stone is a GUN agent and is suspicious... but as far as agents go Stone is tolerable.
And Stone doesnt leave and GUN is like... 'Oh fuck... oh shit' sweatin bullets because maybe Stone is TOO tolerant and TOO efficient. Hes gonna do his job... which is to take care of Ivo.
And they certainly didnt expect Ivo to aggressively latch onto a person cuz they certainly never expected someone to ever empathize with or love Ivo the way Stone has.
GUN accidentally gives the mad doctor his greatest asset...
but also kinda inadvertently in the end saves the world.
But then Stone decides that 'I'll save the world for you' was more a 'The world was mine but now its yours, Stone' and decides to fulfill Ivos dreams of world domination.
Hope for the future
Fear for the past
Withered like my memories
That I’m scared won’t last
Lesson’s already learned
Yet left those questions still not asked
Maybe then I’ll see
The dye not yet cast
History slips through my fingers
Like sand in a noose
Endless thoughts trapped in my pen
Nothing but everything to lose
Mind set ablaze
While my heart is drowning
Nothing left to save
But my will is howling
Thoughts surrounded by suffering and pain
By happiness and laughter
By thunder and rain
Comfort until frightened by this storm again
Horrid daytime and soothing waves
Thrashing water still taking me under
The burn of that sun still aches
Stolen breaths and a wonder
Does love always have to take?
Take my hurt and my heart
Build me up just to tear me apart
Give until I’m gone
A shade they’ll never find
Until a shine of moonlight came to my mind
A ray of hope
Not bright, not burning
Not a noose, just a rope
And my heart’s relearned yearning
Moonlight in a forest
A campfire in spring
Fascinations like a florist
Of softer love i hear a ring
Time healing and mending
What they scraped and clawed
A love unrelenting
In letting me be ok with the flawed
A song and a book
A dance and a phrase
My chiadrah, my Villain
Your love in my gaze
No longer lost and all broken
All jagged edges too brittle
Now, through you, tempered and so open
Now soaring is the hope that was once so little
My heart is yours
My violence, my violet
My shadows and love all yours
And my best to describe it
twenty years across the sea
AHDHHWJDJAIDHUDJXISJSJDJSJSJXHJSJXHDJSH
Gay people come get y’all food 😤
I love the idea of villain!Stone so much
(Original sketches under the cut!)
I miss you
Did you know?
I hear your voice in my ear
I feel your touch on my lips
I see hints of you everywhere
I miss you in the mannerisms i picked up from you
I miss you in the way my hands have the urge to move to scribble at your ribs
I miss you
I love you
I’ll see you tomorrow
My girlfriend and i before i remember we’re at a homophobic school ;-;
Because I’m a sucker for Jayce looking at Viktor with a bit too much love in his eyes, and am fully convinced that they have moments when they almost end up kissing …
The original ending will always haunt me so yes i am in denial and this is now the headcanon i’ll use thank you goodbye have a nice day while i figuratively cry in the corner over the original
Idea for an alternate ending:
Merlin gets Arthur to the lake in time and manage to save him.
They spend the night by the lake just talking, like they have been for the past few days, and realise that neither of them is ready to return to Camelot. For various reasons. They decide to take to the roads instead, just disappear, together.
Eventually their (few remaining) friends start to worry and the queen sends out her knights searching for them. Maybe Gaius points them towards the lake and maybe the knights find a neat pile of Arthurs belongings nearby, like his armour and cape (To heavy to carry and to easy to identify) and just assumes the worst. They knew Arthur was injured, and now presumably dead, but where is Merlin? Perhaps the grief was just to much for him? Perhaps he went home? But Hunith hasn't seen him either.
They are both gone. And life moves on.
Until a few months later when rumors start reaching the castle, about two heroes helping people throughout the realm. A fighter and a sorcerer working together using their skills to take out different threats from low life bandits to magical creatures attacking people.
No one really suspects anythingat first, but Gwen sends out her knights to find these two heroes. To confirm the rumors and if so offer a reward for their bravery. And maybe see if they would be willing to join forces?
It's not until Sir Leon hears a description of the two that he start to wonder.. A blond sword fighter with blue eyes and a regal nose who talks like a noble? A dark haired sorcerer also with blue eyes and a wide infectious smile? And they are constantly bickering and insulting each other? It couldn't be? Could it?
Trying not to get his hopes up Leon still doubles the search efforts.
No matter what they do though the knights seems to always be one step behind the two. Always gone before the knights reach the village or town they just saved. Missed them by a few days, a few hours down to mere minutes.
Somewhere along the way Leon hears about The Kiss. Told by an eye witness who saw the blond grab the warlock by the front of his tunic, haul him in and kiss him fiercely for almost getting himself killed (again, the idiot <- Arthurs note).
And suddenly things are making alot more sense. Why they never came back. Why they are staying away and don't want to be found.
He never tells Gwen. Or anyone. But that is the day Leon starts pulling back, cutting down on the search. Telling everyone it's not worth it, it has been over a year ( several years?) and there are more important things for the knights of Camelot to do then chasing ghosts. It's better if people start moving on with their lives instead. They are not coming back.
An undecided amount of time later Leon finds himself drinking alone in some random tavern in some random town, in an unknown part of the kingdom. When two cloaked strangers sit down uninvited at his table. And as he looks up their hoods fall back to reveal two very familiar and very dear faces.
Merlin grins widely. 'We heard you were looking for us?'
This
This is almost exactly how i imagine him in the books????? How did you draw almost exactly what i think of from the book holy shit thats amazing
Like i love how show kaz looks but fanart for book kaz just always seems just a little off for me but this is so accurate to my funky little brain view you are amazing random artist person
been a minute since i’ve drawn Kaz
15 going on fuckin 50 from how much I put up with (Not talking to you baby) Pronouns? No clue call me by whatever pronouns y’all want Demiromantic Panromantic Taken New to the tickling community, please nothing spicy- sfw only Warning, I will geek out about very random things if given the chance
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