#these silly shows are not worth loosing sleep and health over

[eldesperadont]

im sorry but if anyone thinks AEW, the business, fandom and community werent toxic before punk arrived, then I’m asking where the hell youve been and to curate your experience better for your own sake, you dont have to expose yourself to bs if you dont wanna deal with it

we are talking about pro wrestling god damn, we got some of the most annoying and toxic fans there are

[chocolate-parfait]

um, if i can request another thing? I’m from a very hot country where snow doesn’t exist. How would Arthur, le Comte and Theo react to an s/o who isn’t bothered much by heat, but when snow starts to come around, she stares at even the slightest snow in awe? Maybe they don’t know why and asks Sebastian? General headcanons please! Thank you for answering the request!💕💕

Sorry it took me so long! I had some family/health problems so I didn't have time to write😭 +these turned more on the scenario side, hope you don't mind!

(Fun fact: while writing the part for Comte, I mistook the word "blister" for "blizzard" and realized my mistake only halfway through)

MC seeing the snow for the first time - ikevamp headcanons (Arthur, Comte & Theo)

Arthur

It was almost the middle of November and the days were starting to get colder. One morning, after cheerfully whistling to himself from his room all the way to the dining room, Arthur's gaze went to the window as he took a sit at the table, noticing that the garden, usually vivid with colors even during the winter, was now covered in a thick blanket of pure white

Just as he was about to let his mind wander into past memories, he heard a pair of two feet running towards the room. Turning his head to the door, he saw your lovely figure emerge with hurry from the corridor

"Arthur! It's snowing! There's snow everywhere!!" You almost yelled into his face with one of the widest smiles he had ever seen you wear. Before he could question your enthusiasm, you quickly told him to join you in the garden later as soon as he had finished eating. Then you took your coat and ran outside, euphoric like a little kid

After this unexpected scene, the stoic butler entered the room, sighing as he surrendered himself to the fact of having to serve everyone their food on his own. As he placed a bottle of Rouge in front of the writer, the latter asked him whether this was your first time seeing the snow. "MC-san's homeland is a country which tends to be subject to high temperatures throughout most of the year. I doubt she has ever seen the snow before today, thus explaining such an excited reaction". As soon as the words left the man's mouth, Arthur downed his meal in one go, thanked Sebastian and sped to your location. He wasn't going to miss any of your firsts, even if it was the weather!

After he reached you outside you two started doing all kinds of games in the cold. You did snow angels, played many matches of snowball fights (you dragged Theo into it and teamed up against him imagine receiving a snowball thrown with vampiric strength in your face👁👄👁) and you also did a snowman!

At the end of the day you were so cold and drenched in melted snow that you stayed in bed for two weeks with one of the first and worst colds you ever had in your life, though the experience was more than worth the scolding you got from a furious Sebastian

Comte

After a cold night spent snuggling together in search of warmth from each other's bodies, you two woke up to a blizzard surrounding the city of paris and violently submerging everything under a heavy layer of cold. It wasn't anything particular, especially during a month like December, and yet as Comte was already dressing himself you were still there by the window, eyes glued to the scenery on the other side of the glass. The pureblood made his way to you and embraced your body in his gentle arms, your back almost touching with his still undressed torso

"Ma chérie, is something the matter?". The warmth of your lover and the sound of his smooth voice brought you back to reality. You turned in his loose grip to face him and with slightly blushing cheeks you admitted "T-this is my first time ever seeing the snow..."

He had lived through countless winters during his long life he couldn't even remember what his first time seeing the snow was like, but being there during your first time brought him a certain sense of calm and hot happiness that spread from his heart to his whole body. "Let's get dressed and eat breakfast first, darling. We'll go outside after that, hoping that the weather will calm itself a little". Agreeing to his proposal, you wore the thickest clothes you could find and made your way to the dining room, hardly containing your excitement

After two hours the snowstorm finally reduced in its intensity, letting the snowflakes dance gently through the air. Covering yourself in scarves, gloves, hats and coats, you took your beloved's hand on stepped out into the garden looking like a stuffed ravioli. Three steps out of the door and you almost slipped on the frozen pavement, though Comte rapidly caught you, and he kept a tight grip on your waist for most of your stroll. After reaching the gazebo he let you go enjoy the wonders of winter as he cleaned a bench and sat back, happily watching you having fun. You started touching the snow and after seeing how soft it was you got hit by a wave of giddiness, and before you knew it you were rolling on the ground like a little kid, excitedly showing Comte your first snow angel. As time passed, your skin started getting more cold and red, so when you sneezed the pureblood decided it was enough fresh air for the day and took you back inside

For how much it pained him being a killjoy in such a situation, your health came before anything! He ran a hot bath and prepared skin lotions for you as an excuse. He pampered you for the rest of the day and promised to take you into the city once you had gotten enough rest

Theo

It was one of Theo's rare lazy days. No clients to meet nor exhibitions to attend, as everything was temporarily closed because of incoming Christmas. He got up later than usual and after opening the curtains in his room, a snow covered landscape greeted him. As he was about to turn away and get out of his sleeping robes he heard cheerful voices coming from the garden, Arthur, Vincent's and yours, though he couldn't see anyone from his window

On his way to get breakfast he met Sebastian in the halls and asked him what were you three doing. "MC-san said this was her first time seeing the snow as her homeland is usually a hot country. Sir Arthur and Master Vincent decided to show her some typical winter activities in the snow and they've been out ever since". He could picture your face in his mind: cute smile and eyes of a puppy staring excitedly outside. If you were a dog your tail would be wagging back and forth without interruption! "Master Theo, why are you smiling?" "You're imagining things, Sebastian"

And just like that he decided to come and check on you rascals. As soon as Arthur spotted him walking towards you, the writer's brain immediately thought of a mischievous plan. You were having a snowball fight, everyone against everyone (though the two vampires were definitely controlling their strength). Arthur threw you a snowball which you swiftly avoided, crouching down to make another one as a counterattack. Little did you know that the British man had moved laterally so as to have an approaching Theo right behind him, and when you threw your shot he ducked down. The thick snowball you had thrown with all the strength you could manage, landed harshly on your lover's face, making him stop dead in his tracks

Arthur that was already on the ground holding his stomach while laughing, when he received a kick on his back from a fuming Theo. "Theo! Are you okay?!" You and Vincent gasped and as you rushed to your partner's side you happened to trip over Arthur, bringing Theo down in your fall. Slowly you started laughing at how ridiculous the scene must've seemed, causing Theo to silently watch you with a smirk on his snow covered face

Then, before you could get up again you felt something icy cold on your neck, melting against your skin. Flinching at the sudden sensation, you turned to the art dealer, eyes wide with disbelief. "Heh, now we're even". But before he could add anything else, you closed your gloved fist against the ground and threw an handful of snow to his handsome face, laughing at his silly expression afterwards

"If a war is what you want, a war is what you'll get, Hondje". And so, the four of you had a snow fight to the death. The angel duo (you and Vincent) against the devil duo (Theo and Arthur), who used all kinds of dirty tricks to achieve victory despite meeting absolute defeat in the end. Vincent can absolutely destroy you in a fight, not even his brother Theo can win

Well, you all also got an earful from an angry Sebastian for breaking a window during your match, so you all were losers at the end of the day

[scoooby]

The Reason to Live (is to Die For This)

Read on AO3

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Beta: @tenderlyannoyinglight

Word count: 6.3k

Trigger warning: descriptions of pain, death and violence.

Relationship: Merlin/Arthur *if you don't like merthur it can be taken as gen if you skip the last hundred words

Summary:

"I don't want to leave him. He thinks. I can't.

It shouldn't be the first thing he thinks of. He should be thinking of his mother, Gaius, Gwen. He should be thinking of how Kilgharrah had said he was an immortal, but Kilgharrah is also a big lying liar who lies, so he shouldn't have believed him. But he doesn't think of any of those things, after ten years of sacrificing, his brain is wired to think of Arthur, only of him."

In which Merlin is stabbed instead of Arthur. Oops.

Merlin doesn't know where the blood came from, flowing down and not stopping. There's so much of it staining the ground and his clothes, forming a puddle, he feels dizzy and nauseous looking at it. It's been almost ten years, but the sight of injury still repulses him. It scares him even more because he can't find its source. No, it terrifies him. Whose blood is it? Where is he, exactly? But he tries not to dwell on it and wonders where Arthur is. Wasn't he just here? Silly Arthur, always disappearing.

He giggles, then sobers up. He has more important things to worry about. Like the blood. Blood is so red. Like strawberries. He wishes he could make strawberries right now, Freya likes them. Speaking of which, he should probably talk to her soon.

He touches his hand to his abdomen, startled when he feels something wet and sticky. Oh.

Oh.

It's his blood. He's been maimed. He's the one dying.

I don't want to leave him. He thinks. I can't .

It shouldn't be the first thing he thinks of, and he should be thinking of his mother, Gaius, Gwen. He should be thinking of how Kilgharrah had said he was an immortal, but Kilgharrah is also a big lying liar who lies, so he shouldn't have believed him.  But he doesn't think of any of those things, after ten years of sacrificing, his brain is wired to think of Arthur, only of him.

It shouldn’t be. He should be more carefree and alive and happy, like he is now. And he’s so happy.

He distantly hears a thud behind him, as if something heavy, clad in metal, had fallen.  Swords are made of metal. So is armour. Stupid armour. It takes so fucking long to put armour on Arthur.

He feels hysteria rise up in his throat, he feels like laughing, He doesn’t know why. He’s been stabbed, he should care more. But those thoughts don’t even hit him. He wants to run, to jump. He could fly, like Kilgharrah. Or Aithusa. Can Aithusa fly? He would have to ask Morgana.

But Morgana doesn’t like him.

Maybe Balinor would know when dragons start to fly. He knows a lot, right?

Oh, but he can’t. Balinor is dead. Balinor is extremely dead and rotting. Hunith would be sad if she found out, he doesn’t want her to be sad. She deserves the world. He won’t tell her.

“Don’t worry,” he coos, even though there’s no one there. “I won’t tell.”

He tries to get up, but his knees are weak. He doesn't know why his ears have started to ring. Hhhhh. Hhh. That’s all he hears. It sounds weird. Weird. Weirdweirdweirdweirdweird. What a word, All words should be like it.

Everything is just a blob of grey and black. All he sees is a spinning world and green spots in the corner of his vision. He doesn’t mind, he likes green. He tries to say something, to scream maybe, yet all that comes out is a small, meagre groan.

He feels his eyes closing- And that's it. That's all there is-numbness, and then nothing.

Arthur is not ashamed to admit that he killed Mordred. The knight almost killed Merlin and dared to smile after doing so. Arthur couldn't just let him get away with it, no matter how much it pained him. Guilt doesn’t even come to mind. Mordred isn’t worth it - he tells himself as he walks, knees shaking, towards his manservant's body laying still on the ground.

He's bleeding at an alarming rate. His eyes are closed; his face deathly pale. Arthur doesn't bother with modesty as he rips the stupid brown jacket off (one would think he would come into battle wearing proper armor, at least). He had imagined doing it many times before, in entirely different circumstances, maybe with a bed underneath them.

Merlin torso is littered with scars as wood is with lines. Most of them are healed, so that only white lines are painting Merlin’s pale skin, while others are red, but still no cause for intervention. An enormous hole inflicted near his lungs, however does. Arthur’s not new to blood or injuries, but looking at this one does make him wanna vomit.

He stops, unsure of what to do. His hands hover over the body. What can he do, dammit? He knows first aid, Gaius taught him some when he was little. Nothing has ever come  close or as grave as to this. He has been taught to call for the help of nurses, never to do it himself. He has to stop the bleeding, but how ? He's supposed to tie something around it; he remembers that much at least. He looks towards Merlin's face, exhausted and un-moving, a red cloth loosely tied around his neck. All he has to do to stop the blood temporarily, until he delivers Merlin to safe, more medically trained hands, is to tie the stupid red neckerchief around and hope for it to be the right thing.

He prays as he puts it around the gash. He's not entirely sure who he's praying to. It’s an unconscious reflex to beg for health. To be able to say it is someone else's fault, because he knows it's his. He should never have let Merlin come in front of him; let the sword pierce him. Damn him; damn Merlin; damn Mordred; damn the War; damn Morgana; damn everything.

It sickens him, all of it. This cave, this life. The air is dirty. The metallic smell of blood engulfing everything and making it its own. Throwing up would sound like a good idea if Arthur didn’t have more pressing matter at hand.

The air also smells of disappointment. What is he even doing? He's just two years into his reign, the army is practically gone. So many knights are dying in his name, right now,  with their belief in him. And now Merlin is going to die too.

No. Merlin can't die, I won't allow it. His resolve hardens as he picks him up in his arms, Merlin’s head on his shoulder, back bent so gravity can keep the blood inside. and carries him through the mass of dead bodies. Arthur places him on the horse and climbs on behind him, arms on the reins and still supporting Merlin’s head.

It's a long ride home. You have to make it. For him. Is the only thought he clings to.

The aftermath of the war lingers everywhere. Bodies within quarter of a mile of another, their sunken eyes staring at them as the ride past.

No one stops them, too busy focusing on their own injured. Arthur's head is down to not see them. They probably hate him. With all of his being, he agrees.

Morgana, from an early age, showed to be better fitted for the crown. Might have even made Camelot a better place, once upon a time, in a time long gone.

Now they're both just as terrible and ill-fitted for his home.

He tries not to think of her, it’s too painful. So, he focuses on saving Merlin again. Merlin. His best friend, who he had always hoped would become something more. His rock, the only one he could trust. Something he has proved over and over again, but something he had realised only during his father's funeral.

Uther’s death is a recent memory. Arthur had cried until there were no tears left to shed over anyone else after. Not out of love or grievance. His father’s love for him was long gone before he himself was. But because the moment Uther’s life ended, Arthur’s reign began and the feeling of no support or companionship with it. Morgana was gone. Ygraine had never been there to begin with, and the overwhelming responsibility hit him- hard . He had felt so alone. There was no one there for him. No one cared.

Then Merlin had placed a hand on his shoulder, whispered to him, told him he was going to be a great king and that he was sorry. As if Merlin was at fault. As if he wasn't the only reason Arthur was still standing.

It made him see more clearly that he might not ruin the kingdom- his kingdom. A spark of heat, mixed with joy and sorrow ignited like wildfire spread all over his chest, then back, arms and legs followed soon, and finally his face; he returned Merlin’s sentiment with a warm smile.

Maybe that's when he had fallen in love, or when he had realized that Merlin was the only one he could trust. He's still not sure which one it was, maybe the love had come slowly, or maybe, and just the seed had been planted back then, or maybe it had come fact and crashing.

And now he was going to be gone too. Arthur sighs, his eyes drooping from a week of no sleep. Everyone leaves. They always leave. Maybe he still had some tears left.

The dark is disorienting. Is he sleeping? Is he even alive? He has to be, he has to make sure Arthur gets back home.

"Emrys," he hears someone say. No, not someone- Morgana. Her voice is unmistakable, ragged and sickly sweet at the same time. She had always been like that, even before, a dizzying array of opposites.

"Witch," he whispers. "Why have you brought me here?"

The smugness in her voice is apparent, "That's very hypocritical of you, isn't it? After all, you're magical too. More than me, even." She didn't answer his question. "All alone now, aren’t you? No one to save you." He shakes his head; how did he manage to get here? The last thing he was doing was shouting at Arthur to bring him along ("I always thought you were the bravest man I knew." “That’s not fair.") Arthur's face had been so disappointed, and it had broken Merlin's heart. But if the war was still going on, then no one would be coming for him. He will have to get out of this by himself.

"What. Do. You. Want." He grits out, he doesn't have the patience, nor the time for this, he has to help them. The knights are strong, but even the strongest of human kind wouln’t last long against an immortal army. He has to be there with them, to help them, to keep them alive. No matter how much his words hurt, Merlin will still save them, because that is what he does.

She laughs. " You."

"I don't have time for games, leave me be."- turning his head around trying to locate Morgana’s voice; the darkness, the nothingness, hasn’t changed.

"Oh, but why would I do that?" Her cold hands are taking hold of his chin, nails digging into his face. She's right in front of him. Her silky dress pooling onto his feet, the edges of her dirty hair grazing his arms. "I have you right where I want you, no one is going to come to save you. I only need one thing from you." She pauses, her fingers snap; there are fires surrounding them in a circle. He struggles against the bonds of rope he didn't realize were tied onto him, but it's of no use.

She’s clearer now, seen better days too. Bags under her crazed eyes, a ragged and torn black gown, a cloak is gracing her hunched back. Frankly, it looks like she hasn’t taken a bath in months. She doesn’t even resemble the Morgana he used to know, the compassionate and cunning one.

This is his creation; he is the reason she is like this. He never should have listened to the fucking dragon, he should have told her about his magic, maybe things would be different then.

"I won't do anything for you,” he hisses. “I would rather die.”

“Oh, you will.” She says it like it’s a fact as if it’s inevitable that he will die soon, and a tremor goes from his head to his toes in a matter of a second. He’s supposed to be immortal, supposed to live for a long, long time. He’s not scared of dying, he supposes. He’s scared of what will happen afterwards. “And it will hurt, I can tell you that, it will hurt so much.” She inches even closer, impossibly so. “But that won’t be the worst part, no. The worst part will be that no one will care . Arthur won’t care. No matter what you have done for him, he won’t even notice you’re gone.”

He’s silent as her words sink in. Sow themselves into his brain, into his heart, tries to convince himself it’s not true.

“Arthur won’t rescue you. You need his help, but he doesn’t have your back. He’s not even looking for you. If you’re drowning, if you’re about to crack, will he even care?” Something on his face makes her look smug like she’s already won. “Face it, Merlin.” That’s the first time she’s called him Merlin and not Emrys since she found out. “You don’t matter to him. He thinks you’re disposable, But I know better.”

Merlin looks up at her. "You're sick," he spits, although it sounds small, unsure. "He would look for me. I know he would." The statement is more for himself than her.

She gives a small, cruel smile as if to convey to him how pathetic he is. “All I need you to do,” she continues, “is to tell me where you are once this ends.”

He's about to ask her what she means, when the fires go out and it all turns dark again.

He stops in the forest, to rest, though he's not sure if Merlin will even survive by the end of it. He lays him down against a rock and lights a fire. He has to make something to feed them, or they'll die of starvation before Morgana's knights get to them. He surveys the clearing they're in, and he's about to walk towards what he is almost sure is an edible plant (emphasis on the almost, kings don't always learn about herbs), when he hears Merlin whispers. He snaps back, his eyes are open, a once tantalizing clear blue now murky and grey.

"Arthur" he murmurs. "Art- I-"

He holds up a hand "I'm here Merlin," he says. "I'm here but don't speak, you need to preserve your energy."

He doesn't listen. "I-I need to tell you something and," he gasps, trying to breathe, "and I need you to listen without interrupting."

Arthur wants to tell him whatever he needs to say probably isn't as important as his life, but the look on his face tells him that it might be.

Merlin shudders, clearly exhausted. "I ha-have magic," he rasps. Arthur's mind goes blank. It's a joke, it has to be. Merlin can't have betrayed him too. He takes a step toward him, to reach out maybe, but thinks better of it.

"Stop being silly," he commands, but it comes out shaky.

Merlin eyes seem wet. When he opens his mouth to speak, all that comes out is a bare whisper, "I ne-needed to tell you. In, in case, I-I, uh, die."

"You can't die." He clasps Merlin shoulder this time, leaning down. "But stop delusioning yourself Merlin. You don't have magic, I would know." It's not real, he would've been able to tell. This can't be true, it can't.

"And I use it for you," he continues, seeing his expression. "Only-only for you."

"Shut up," Arthur whispers. Merlin flinches back. "Shut up, shut up, shut up."

"I-," he starts, but he cuts him off.

"Do not speak to me."

Arthur looks at him, something rising in his throat. He thought it would be bile, but it's laughter. Of course, of course, the only person he trusts has magic.

He stands up and walks away, until he's sure Merlin won't be able to see him.

Merlin’s heart sinks as he stares at Arthur’s back, she was right. He told him about his magic, and now he was leaving him to die in a forest, never mind the reason he was dying was that he had taken a sword for Arthur. Never mind that he had spent a decade protecting him, trying to stop hundreds of people from killing someone he himself hadn’t particularly cared for at the beginning. Never mind the fact that he had sacrificed so much, just so he could be comfortable living in a castle built on the sins of his father and the corpses of magic users. Ten years, all down the drain. Merlin wants to laugh, of course, it comes done to this. To Arthur abandoning him because he told him something he didn’t want to hear. Fuck him, fuck the pendragons. Couldn’t let him die in peace.

He stews in it for a while, too tired to cry. Too sick of everything to even care anymore. He won’t tell her though; couldn’t let it all go to waste. She’ll find out anyway, he knows, she has her sources.

Yet, he has more important things to focus on, Arthur will either come back, or he won’t. But his wound stays. The giddiness is gone, replaced with something else. Something warm, like a fire in his stomach.

He presses down on his abdomen.  as he sighs sharply through his nose, it helps with the increasing pain, stabbing his bone and overtaking his senses.

His lungs struggle to breathe, it feels as if they’re filling with water as he drowns; his whole body burns as his back arches and writhes. It’s like there’s thousands of needles being pushed into him from everywhere, as if the needles had been pulled out from a fire before being inserted into him- red hot and painful, so painful. He wants to stand up, to run and jump into a lake, but his legs feel like jelly, he can’t move. It hurts so much. He hears distant echoes of screams; they’re probably coming from him.  And just like that, it starts to ebb. The needles being pulled out hurts more, but the small burns they leave behind are definitely better than it was before. He slumps down against a tree, numb.

He feels his eyes droop. His pain is still shooting through his body, but at least he has some time before he has to feel it again.

He wakes up again in some time, not sure when. It doesn't hurt as much as it did before. He’s just tired. He lays there for what feels like hours, but the sun hasn’t even set, so it was probably a few minutes.

To his immense surprise, he comes back. Arthur… comes back.

"Come back to finish the job, huh?" Merlin snarls, refusing to believe that maybe he came back to help him because he cared for him. It's too good to be true. Arthur is compassionate and he is kind, but not to magic users. "One stab wound wasn't enough for you?"

Arthur's already been saved from the imminent death of his which has been prophesied for a few centuries already, Merlin no longer has to worry, and he doesn't want to either. If this is his reward, to be called a coward, to be ignored and hut out, what everything had been leading up to, he might as well have died years ago. He used to wake up with only Arthur in mind, He loved him, still does. He’s not going to go out any other way.

He was the reason he lived, and he is the reason Merlin is going to die.

Arthur recoils in shock, his mouth is hanging open a little.

Good , Merlin thinks, he needs a wake-up call.

"What?" He asks.

Merlin hopes his expression can convey his feelings and how unamused he is because his throat is clogged up and he's too exhausted to say a word more. He may be a warlock, but it doesn’t change the fact that he is in unbearable pain.

Arthur looks at him as if he's grown a second head. "You- you thought I was going to kill you?"

There's no reply. Arthur comes forward, stops when he sees how scared the other man becomes. He sits down onto the cold, hard ground. "Merlin," he says softly, "I, I'm angry at you, I'm not going to lie, but I would never, never kill you. I- how could you even-" he trails off, he kicks some dirt glumly. "Just, we’ll talk about this when we're back home, okay? When you're better."

Arthur doesn't know how Merlin could think that. He would never- he didn’t even imagine doing anything other than demoting him, at most. He feels betrayed, and he feels let down. But this is Merlin. If he practiced magic, there must have been a good reason.

Fuck. Has he been that bad of a friend? Has he been so distant that Merlin thought Arthur was going to kill him? He knows he should be angrier, and just a few hours ago, he was. He was ready to yell and to scream and to rage, but then he thought of Morgana. About how he used to love her, and how she changed when he turned her away, He doesn’t want the same to happen to Merlin, doesn’t want him to change too. If Merlin dies because Arthur abandons him, he will never forgive himself.

So, as he snuffs out the fire and tries to cover up his tracks, because he knows Morgana will be looking for them, he doesn’t say anything. When he picks Merlin up and places him on the horse, he tries to be as gentle as he can. When he squeezes Merlin's hand in what he hopes is comforting, he just hopes Merlin doesn’t hate him completely.  

Merlin floats in and out of consciousness for what he thinks is a day, but he can’t be sure. When he first wakes up, he’s trotting along on a horse, Arthur behind him, and then he’s in front of a fire, sitting on the ground, then the horse again. Once, he wakes up to strangled screams, but he’s not sure what was going on. He’s too scared to ask. The fifth time he wakes up, however, it’s different. It’s not a coincidence, it’s on purpose, Arthur is shaking him awake. He makes out that they are next to the lake, where he has sent away so many corpses already.

It's calm and serene, obvious to all that is happening around it.

“Wha-” he starts to say blearily, he knows they haven’t reached Camelot yet, so what is going on?

Arthur silences him by placing a hand on his mouth. “We’ve got company,” he whispers. Merlin stiffens up, never a good thing. Not when you’re trekking through the woods, your companion and you both in bad conditions, both starving, one run through with a sword. Not when your companion is the ruler of kingdom which has war being waged against it.

“Arthur,” he says, his voice still sounding heavy and drowsy.

“What?” His mouth feels swollen, and he is incredibly tired, but he can tell he’s agitated, so he doesn't beat around. “Use the sword."

He looks surprised, the expression he hates. The one he uses whenever he realises that he underestimates everyone around him. "I think I know how to use a sword better than you do, Mer lin."

Prat.

"I mean, don't use your old sword, use Excalibur. It can kill anything. " Saying even this much feels like he just ran from Ealdor to Camelot without break, but he manages.

He opens his mouth to reply, but then his eyes widen. "Did you hear that?" His voice is low but urgent. Merlin blinks, he didn't hear anything other than the wind and- oh, he hears it now. There's distant screaming, coming from a woman from what it sounds like. It's barely noticeable, but the sounds of footsteps and something heavy being dragged on the forest floor towards them is much, much louder.

They exchange glances, only for a second. Merlin gestures towards the sword and Arthur nods, not questioning him for once.

Merlin tries to speak, he wants to help, but his throat is becoming clogged, and his vision is becoming blurry and- I am not going to survive. He thinks, before his eyes roll back into his head, and he passes out once more.

Arthur does not dare to say anything, or to do anything, other than stay frozen in his spot, sword in hand.

The noises are coming closer and closer. The screams have subsided now, but the steps have not. He knows he should highball out of there, but he has a feeling that whatever is coming their way cannot be outrun, and 50% of his lessons in swordplay focuses only on telling him to follow his gut.  

"Emrys," says a voice. He inhales sharply, he recognizes that voice; knows it better than he has any right too.

"Morgana," he breathes.

She pouts, looking disappointed. "Seems like our Emrys isn't awake. Shame, I wanted him to see you die." She says it casually, as if she tells her once-brother that she’s going to kill him every day.

He reminds himself - this is not his sister, not the woman he grew up with. If he doesn’t kill her, she will kill him. And she will take his kingdom.

But he never meant for them to get caught up in this, he had to control himself. He can’t rush to hug her or stab her. He can see a flicker of what she used to be, the brave, young woman. He needs her to hold onto that. If she doesn’t, he will have to do it. And he really, really doesn’t want to.

But as she lunges at him, the flicker ebbs out. She has slipped through his hands, and she has changed. She has been carried away by the waves of sorcery, and it has ruined her. He remembers her being his hero when they were young, when they used to sneak out of the castle to look at the stars. Her arguing with Uther over whether it was right to commit genocide, the irony of which has stuck with him. Her teaching him to use the sword, having already mastered it herself. Her forcing him to make friends with Gwen, who grew to become his ex-lover and best friend and surrogate queen. The memories keep on coming, and they don't stop. But she, like everyone else, changed. No matter what time, she is different now. It will never come back. He wants to go back, when they were innocent and naive, when everything was left for them to discover.

But he can’t.

So he fights back instead.

It's all he can do to make his hands steady as his blade sinks into her stomach, as he buries it deeper and deeper until it comes out on the other side. She looks surprised, then grim. She'll be alive for a few days, at most, a few minutes, at best.

But he can't bear to leave her suffering, alive but dying, tortured. So, he stabs her again, this time aiming for the heart, and again. And again. And again. When he is sure that she's dead, he stops, sliding onto his knees. He glares at the sword in contempt. He killed her; he killed his sister.

No .

He killed the woman who wanted to burn his kingdom to the ground. He had no other choice.

But what sort of person is he? He's killed both his knight and his former sister on the same day, with the same sword.

He grips it harder, then looks at the lake. He needs to get rid of it, that's what he needs to do. No one can find out what happened today, he can't let them. He raises it and throws it in. He had thought it would land on the banks, considering how heavy it is, but it doesn't. Instead, the sword flies out of his grip, and cuts through the air, towards the lake. He swears he can see a hand reaching out of the water to catch it, but it's probably a trick of the light.

He turns to her body laid on the ground, eyes open and unblinking, mouth looking as if gasping for breath, cloak sprawled around her like wings. She's dead.

Somehow, he knows if he had used the other sword, she would not be; he knows enough about magic to realise that the high priestess cannot be taken down by a normal weapon.

But Excalibur was not normal, was it? Just another thing to add to his list of questions.

It takes him thirty more minutes to dispose of her body in the lake, staring as it sinks deeper into the water. He doesn't look away, no. He deserves this. He has to remember, and he will.

He doesn't move for a long, long time. Only goes so when he realizes that, although she is dead, Merlin is not yet. Arthur intends to keep it that way. He turns his back on her. Every step drains him, but he does it.

He can't be left alone again.  

It takes them two more days to arrive in Camelot. All of it passes in awkward silence, with Merlin getting paler and paler with every passing second. Arthur doesn’t say anything out loud, but his mind is racing. He doesn’t think of them. He can’t. So he focuses on magic instead. He’s not sure if he trusts magic fully, even now, but maybe he should be more open-minded. Maybe he should give it a chance. Maybe it'll be different than it was with Morga- her.

When he arrives, it is completely different to what he had expected. There are mourners, of course. People in white, downcast expressions, closed windows, doors painted black. But there are also red banners hanging everywhere, citizens cheering as he rides past, ignoring Merlin behind him. Cries of "she is dead" and "the war is over". People are grieving, and there are those celebrating. He doesn't ask how they know of her death, he doesn't want to know. They tell him anyway. Apparently, the army stopped attacking, all of a sudden. They had cried, and shouted, and had turned back. It is unclear why, but Arthur knows he is the reason. Morgana dying at his hands is the reason.

Some help him get to Gaius', seeing how unamused he looks. They clear out the road, offer them water. Arthur is grateful for them, glad that at least some of his people acknowledged the dying man and had tried to help.

The physician is busy when he throws the door open, Merlin in tow. There are many, many people here. All with varying degrees of injuries. Arthur can’t bear to look at them. It’s his fault. It’s all his fault. So he ignores them, marches up to him.

“He’s- he’s been stabbed,” he chokes out.

Gaius’ eyes widen, and he rushes to follow Arthur. He lays Merlin out on one of the few empty beds, his body sprawls out on it. It’s sickening to look at as if he’s dead already.

He sets to work immediately, ordering Arthur to fetch herbs and vials and all sorts of things he doesn’t know the uses of. The people around them stare at him blankly, as if they know he’s the king, but they don’t fully recognise him.

He knows when he is not needed anymore, and backs away to watch. It's odd, and it feels so wrong. It's wrong to watch as Merlin is cut open and healed. Like he's invading his privacy. Merlin deserves better than to be put on a show in front of so many people.

He does try to help. Tries to tell as many people as he can to move to the castle, where he is sure more doctors would be willing to help, but some are in too bad of a condition to be moved as they are tended to by nurses. So he elects to focus on his friend instead.

Gaius' hands have always been steady, for as long had Arthur had known him. He cuts open bodies without worry, without even flinching. Which is not the case today, he notices. No, his hands are shaking. Not much as to be obvious, but he's known the man for far too long to not be able to tell when he's scared.

He thinks Merlin is going to die .

Arthur recoils violently. He doesn't know where the thought came from, because it's not true. It can’t be.

Merlin is going to survive. He tells himself.

Merlin. Is. Going. To. Survive.

Merlinisgoingtosurvive

MerlinisgoingtosurviveMerlinisgoingtosurvuveMerlinisgoingtosurvive

He repeats under his breath, rocking himself back and forth on his heels until he almost believes it. He has to.

He's not sure where the time has passed, because Gaius is in front of him all of a sudden but Arthur remembers him standing over the table just seconds ago.

Gaius shakes his head and it takes a few minutes for it to register in his mind. Arthur can't be looking at him, and his heartbreaking face. Just like him, Gaius' only support was Merlin. Was. Not is, was. Merlin is barely dead, and Arthur is already starting to think of him as a memory.

The physician knows what it feels like, but Arthur doesn't care.

"You should've done better," he hisses. He doesn't regret it. Doesn’t regret causing the shock he’s caused Gaius. But it's his fault too. He's the one Merlin took a sword for. But he needs to blame someone else. Because he doesn't want to think of the implications of Merlin dying at his hands. Gaius looks at him as if he is about to break, so Arthur walks away. From him, towards the corpse. He can't bear to face another person he's hurt.

It can't be true. There's got to be something he can do, something. He can't die, he can’t fucking die. Not when there's not much left to say. Not when they've just won. It's supposed to be a thing to celebrate, a war ending, he can't mourn. He can't give a speech to his kingdom which wasn't written by his best friend. Can't lose him. He doesn't think he'll be able to live without him.

He doesn't want to. He won't.

Merlin looks too much at peace, content in a way Arthur hasn't seen him in a long time. His long lashes casting shadows onto his freckled skin, his lips are twisted into a scowl, but he is at peace. He still looks the same, though. Beautiful and striking. Arthur's rock.

And dead.

Arthur’s hands move at their own accord, to stroke the side of his face. A sob escapes him before he can stop it, pushing through his throat. His people need assurance, and him crying like a bloody fool won't help. But that's the last thing on his mind. All he knows is Merlin is dead.

He isn’t able to stop staring, can't help wondering what he will do now. Whether the body will be burned or buried. He will be given a hero's funeral, it's no less than he deserves. He will be clothed in Camelot’s colours, or maybe his Ealdor's. Hunith would know better.

Oh lord, Hunith. She will have to find out through a letter. No. Arthur will have to go to tell her. He can't let her go through it alone.

He's about to turn away, to tell someone to help him move the body when his lips move.

Merlin's mouth opens, just a little bit, but enough to tell that he's alive.

Arthur feels a shock go through him. It was just an illusion.

Right?

"Merlin?" he asks. It can't be true, no matter how much he wants it to be. It was probably a trick of the light, but that can't be right. Because Merlin's eyes are opening and he's staring at him and some colour is returning to his cheeks and oh-

This the man he loves. And he waking up.

"Ar- Arth," he begins but Arthur shushes him. He’s alive, he’s speaking. He doesn’t know how, but it’s real. It’s actually real.

"I'm here," he assures him "I'm here." He shocks even himself as he leans down to kiss him. He's even more surprised when Merlin kisses him back. It only lasts a second before he pulls back, but he just kissed Merlin. It was rough, it wasn't perfect. But he's breathing. They're both here. He can't ask for more.

"Wha- what was," he exhales through his nose, as if speaking taxes him, "that for?"

"I wanted to," he says, shrugging, still not over the euphoria. He just lost him, he’s never going to again. The least he can do is not hide from the truth. "And, I, I also kind of love you. Like, I’m in love with you."

His eyes widen a fraction, but Arthur can tell he’s too tired to question it further.

He wants to say more, he has so many questions as to how he's still breathing, when he started practicing magic, why, but he doesn’t. He has time, they have all the time in the world.

He turns his back, yelling for Gaius. The physician shows up immediately, face lighting up when he takes in the sight of his son very much not-dead.

"We'll figure it out," he says, though he's not sure he heard him over the noise. "We'll figure it out." He grins. Yeah, they'll figure it out.

He swears, Merlin is beaming right back at him.

[unadulterated-strawberryniall]

Normal People, Abnormal Jobs. [Chapter 2]

Normal People, Abnormal Jobs. Relationships in the entertainment industry are never easy. Scheduling is nearly impossible, paparazzi hound you down every date, and everyone seems to weigh in their opinion. Is it possible to have a soulmate with such a demanding career?

Loosely inspired by the 2020 Hulu drama, Normal People, this story explores the possibility of finding true love in a world motivated by reputation, scandal, and money. Touching on themes of love, mental health, and adulthood, Normal People, Abnormal Jobs navigates how two musicians from opposing worlds maneuver a destiny that consistently pulls them together. It’s challenging, yes, but if it’s true love, it’s worth it.

Chapter 1.

The thumping bass of whatever house music was playing was starting to give me a headache. I wasn’t really one for the club scene. I fell more into the hole-in-the-wall pub scene. Better yet, just having a glass of wine at home. 230 Fifth, one of New York’s iconic rooftop bars, felt like a universe away from where I really wanted to be.

It felt like I had been waiting here for hours, when in reality, as I checked my watch, I’d only been here for 23 minutes. I yawned as my phone screen flashed, reminding me of tomorrow’s packed schedule. I know I hadn’t been here long, but it all felt useless, and I figured now would be a great time to make an escape.

Pushing through the crowd on the dancefloor, I started to think how silly I was for even showing up in the first place. After finishing my interviews, I threw myself into a complex beauty routine, exfoliating my skin, tweezing any loose eyebrow hairs, and giving my nails a fresh coat of polish. All on the off chance I ran into Niall tonight, which clearly wasn’t happening.

Would your nails seduce him? Would he be so wowed by your clean eyebrows that he’d want to sleep with you? Stupid. Waste of time. Of course he doesn’t want you.

Don’t go to war with yourself.

If he wanted to see you, he’d be here. With you. You’re getting stood up.

Everything that’s happening to you is what’s supposed to be happening to you, so just relax.

I gave my head a shake, hoping the motion would physically shake the voices from my mind. I felt someone grab my wrist, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“‘Ey! I was hopin’ I’d see ya tonight!” The accent rang through my ears, over whatever high pitched synth was ringing through the speakers, and immediately brought a sense of relief. “Are ya leavin’?” He raised an eyebrow at me, flicking his gaze from my eyes to the direction of the door I was heading to.

“I…” I couldn’t find the words to say as the grip from his fingertips left me feeling more intoxicated than any cocktail I’d ever had.

“Let me treat ya to a drink.” He took a step closer to me, placing my hand on his chest. “What would ya like?”

“Vodka cranberry.” I breathed out, just loud enough for him to hear. My fingers grazed against the open buttons of his shirt, where little wisps of chest hair poked out. He grabbed my hand again, leading me to the bar.

As he leaned over the counter top to catch the attention of a bartender and order our drinks, I couldn’t help but begin to think how hauntingly beautiful he was. My eyes scanned his body, from his hair, thick and perfectly disheveled, to the flecks of gold in his facial hair, to his biceps, which flexed gently as he leaned against the counter, to his long, skinny legs, that ended with the off-white converse on his feet. I felt breathless around him. My stomach began to twist, and I placed a reassuring hand against it while taking a deep breath.

Niall glanced at me. “You alright?”

I didn’t respond immediately, but the bartender commanded his attention with the drinks before he could say anything else. He had ordered something dark, perhaps a rum and coke? I couldn’t tell.

“Let’s find somewhere t’ chat.” He whispered in my ear, leading the way out of the club to an outdoor portion of the bar. 

Since most of the party was focused on the dancefloor, this area was nearly empty, and Niall pulled me over to the balcony. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He looked out to the various buildings, most notably, the Empire State Building. The building was flashing rainbow lights towards the top.

“Yeah, it is.” I mumbled. But I wasn’t looking at the skyline. I was looking at Niall. A light breeze ran through the air, whirling a tuft of Niall’s hair with it. He turned to face me and smiled.

“That was a fuckin’ great performance earlier. But I saw ya cryin’ after. Everything ok?” He took a sip of his drink, not taking his eyes off me.

I blushed. “Oh, well… I’m fine now. I was dealing with a lot of anxiety leading up to this. First performance in a long time, you know? I guess it was just a release after the build up. I dealt with a lot of mental shit throughout the pandemic. Anxiety, depression, isolation… Not that I was the only one but… It was tough.” I realized I was rambling and took a sip from my glass to fill the silence that ensued. The ice rattled against the glass as my hand shook uncontrollably.

“It’s very brave of ya t’ talk about dat.” Niall pointed out.

“I didn’t mean to.” I looked down. 

Niall took a step closer to me. “No, it’s great. We need more people like ya. I deal with dat shit too sometimes. I don’t like to talk about it. You’re much braver than me.”

I shrugged, unsure of what to say. I wasn’t the best at handling compliments, and I hardly thought going on about mental issues was worthy of one.

“I didn’t get to catch your performance. Wish I did, though.” I placed my half-empty glass on the table beside me.

Niall turned out to face the view, leaning against the railing. “Eh, it was alright. Happy to be back on stage.”

“I didn’t think you’d be into my music, to be honest.” I chewed my lip, wondering what the hell caused me to say that.

That was the small talk you chose?

“What makes you say dat?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“I’m a bit more… grungier than your sound.” I was referring to my brand as a punk artist, while I knew Niall had settled into an acoustic pop genre. In honesty, I hadn’t heard much of his music myself. But I would have to live under a rock to be unaware of his presence in One Direction.

“I listen t’ everything. Rock, rap, country, dubstep.”

I laughed, but Niall kept a straight face.

“I’ve been following you for awhile. On the charts.”

“Wow. I wouldn’t have expected that.”

“There’s no one like you, Mina. You’re one of a kind.” Niall turned to face me once again, and I realized he’d already finished his drink. Our bodies were brushing up against each other at this point, and I could feel myself being drawn into him like a tidal wave.

“Is what I think about to happen going to happen?” I closed my eyes, feeling Niall’s breath hit my face.

“Yeh.” He whispered.

“I don’t think it would be good... If people found out…” But my hands were already slinking their way around his waist.

“No one would have to know.”

And before I could get another word out, his lips were pressed against mine. 

Fire, electricity, all the forces in the universe clashing together and colliding between us. I pushed my body against his, desperate to feel him. All of him. His hands were placed gently on my cheeks, which were growing hotter by the second. He nipped his tongue against my bottom lip, making me crave him even more. I nibbled at his lips, praying to every possible deity that this moment would never end.

Why are you so obsessed with him? Creepy bitch.

This is nice. Just let yourself be happy.

You don’t deserve to be happy.

I pulled away almost immediately, bringing my hands to my eyes.

“Are ya okay?” Niall mumbled simply, although he looked like he’d just been hit by a truck. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were wide. He was taking soft, shallow breaths.

“Fine.” I coughed, swallowing the lump in my throat. “That was nice.” I turned back to face him, forcing a smile.

He peered at me for a moment, but didn’t press whatever curiosities he had further. “It was. We should do it again.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine.

The sheer force made my knees feel weak. I wanted to collapse. It was all too much, too soon. My stomach twisted. I felt at any moment I was going to be sick.

This time, Niall pulled away. “Mina, I can feel something’s wrong. It’s alright. We don’t have to do dat anymore.” He nodded, taking a step back to give me space.

I leaned against the wall of the building, tilting my head back and closing my eyes. I took deep breaths to steady myself, cursing myself for reacting this way. I couldn’t figure out exactly how long I’d been standing there, but when I opened my eyes, I noticed Niall sitting in front of me, watching me intensely.

“You don’t need to stay.” I whispered.

“Of course I do. I’m not leavin’ you out here alone.” He shook his head. “Take all the time you need, I’ll get you back to your place when you’re ready.”

“Niall-” I began to protest, but he stood up and pressed a finger to my lips. I wondered if he was aware of the effect he had on me.

He returned to his seat, giving me a nod.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, before the pandemic, I went through this breakup-” I started again.

“You don’t need to explain anything t’me. Just relax.”

I stared at him for a few more moments before deciding it was time to wrap up the night. Niall hailed a cab for us, opening the door for me and helping me in, all without letting go of my hand. He never pressed for conversation, he never pressured me to kiss him, he simply offered a hand to hold. A hand that I held desperately until the very end of the cab ride.

“Would you like me to walk you to your room? Obviously not to…” Niall paused. “But t’ make sure yer safe.”

I nodded. My eyes felt heavy and suddenly, I couldn’t stand the thought of not being in bed anymore. Niall helped me out of the taxi, and I dragged my feet along the shiny hotel floors, my eyes closing while Niall led the way. It suddenly occurred to me how emotionally draining the day had been. The anticipation leading up to the performance, the breakdown after the performance, the interviews, and of course, everything with Niall. I was too tired to feel anxious anymore. I could feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness.

I don’t remember getting to my room, or changing into pajamas, or even falling asleep. But I do know that the following morning, when my alarm blared to wake me up for today’s interviews, a pair of beautiful, blue eyes greeted me as I opened mine.

[hesymbolized]

a public service announcement- or more accurately, a state of the vesta announcement.

as always, a preface to note that i am more than aware that i owe explanation to no one. that’s a fact carved into the bedrock of the society at large in whick we live. suggesting otherwise is frankly a massive red flag in my book, as it reeks of attempts at emotional manipulation. i’m a lot of things- good, bad, in between- but trying to push me by those means is something life has made me immune to. that said...

i think we can all agree that this year has been an absolute shit show. and it is taking a toll on the best of us. but, as is obvious if you know me well and/or have been following me since i first decided to tackle steve- or further back still- you likely would have noted my absence. (or you figured i’d vanished into a new fandom and you missed my self promo...) fact is, i actually have been absent.

cut for a series of potential triggers- if you have any triggers about abuse, mental health, general health, or addiction, proceed with caution or avoid entirely.

i was going to carefully write the whole series of events out, but it was becoming a russian novel length, and that’s just silly. so lets just bullet point, shall we?

in a span of approx four weeks, i spent several days in state mandated detox. twice. 

but vesta, how’d you manage that? funny you should ask.

i’m an addict. six months in a rehab in the boondocks of new hampshire sorted me out. i had 14 years under my belt. i worked impossibly hard for every day of it. and while the work was hard, eventually it just became habit. 

so...relapse? yeah. in the middle of those 14 years, i traded substance abuse for emotional and physical abuse at the hand of my now ex boyfriend. i didn’t relapse when i hid in my bathtub because even his looking in my direction felt like a threat. i didn’t relapse when i had a miscarriage- something i never would have known had my ex ever asked whether i wanted his cock anywhere near me. he never asked. he just took. and when i got home from the hospital, devastated and in pain, sobbing under the covers because our apartment was so small there wasn’t a lot of spaces i felt were safe, my ex booted up his computer to find out when i could have sex again. 

a series of interventions between my friendsand family gave me the sense of self worth enough to kick him out. and i was supposed to be free to finally do things i wanted to do, better myself, go back to school maybe.

and that’s where the stalking started. i had moved from salem, ma down to my hometown, sarasota, fl. he followed me. he’d bombard me, and then find new and creative ways to get around the fact i blocked him over and over. none of the platforms he used to do so- everything from facebook to fanfiction.net- would help me. i was this horrible mix of shame and fear, and i have no one to really talk about it with- i never told my parents it was happening- just mentioning the bastard’s name was enough to send my parents into a paranoid frenzy about my safety.

some of his messages were pleas for me to forgive him and move back in with him. the rest were a very pointed attack, using every single thing he knew i feared or was afraid of.

it came to a head between november and december, i could barely sleep for the nightmares. the anxiety about the random appearances in my inbox and panic about how he was agoing to attack me next caused a cascade of additional problems. around thanksgiving, i all but stopped eating. my appetite has not returned, still. and finally, i broke. 

my family was out of town. i was alone, and unwilling to burden anyone else with my problems. i was so desperate to make everything be quiet and still and the one thing that always made it quiet and still was to get blackout drunk.

they say if you relapse, you don’t get a reset button. you pick up where you left off, or worse.

it was worse. in two weeks or so i spent several days scared out of my mind in detox. i lost my job. an ambulance had to becalled to take me to the hospital- i have no memory whatsoever of that night- and after a few hours, the hospital discharged me. onto the street. with no shoes or phone. i walked barefoot from the hospital home. it’s a 15 minute car ride. i don’t know how long it took me- i have scraps of memory of that part of the evening. i’m actually pretty sure that it was some kind of illegal for the hospital to do that, but...

so rehab again. there’s this sort of stigma around the idea of someone becoming institutionalized. i’ll admit, i always found it a little pathetic or sad. it’s very different when it’s you, desperate to stay just a little longer. if i could have? i’d still be there. 

but crona hit, and i came home.

the opposite side of the coin here is that i was able to get a job almost immediately. no interview. just a come in to fill paperwork, and got handed keys to the store.  furthermore, they’re training me to be a pharmacy technition. i just started the courses today.

and even more importantly, on a whim, and without intention, i picked up online classes and started...going to school...again? this is massive for me- i dropped out of collage after a series of events so similar to the ones mentioned above that i refuse to review them again. i  had a loose plan to go back, but i fell into full time at barnes and noble, and weeks became months, then years, and i had kind of concluded that i was going to be trapped in retail forever. tricking myself into it is probably the only way i would have been able to do it- today was finals for the courses i’d picked up. i  haven’t gotten to the end of an attempt at education since high school- and i only did that by the skin of my teeth, too.

anyway. the long and short- i do try to be around here, but i’m actively taking classes, working extra hours at work to have time for training courses, and focusing on my physical health- my skin has never been so clear, i’ve lost about 60lbs, i’m in school again with a pretty clear view of what i want to accomplish. i’m making admittedly skittish efforts to try to find someone that i could do date like things with. we’ll see. 

so that’s the sitch. i genuinely appreciate everyone’s patience with me, and the support that’s so generously been offered. i adore you all. ♥- v

[pedroscurls]

Title: Our Happy Ending

@chunex requested: Hi ! I love your fics, can I be tag in all please ?! Btw can you make a fic where Izzie and Denny have their happy ending ? Please Thank You

Character(s): Denny and Izzie Summary: Denny and Izzie finally have their happy ending. Word Count: 1,896 Warning: Fluff!  Author’s Note: All right. I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks Denny deserved better hehe. So, thank you @chunex for requesting this! We need to give him his happy ending for all the shit he dealt with. So, I hope this is what you imagined it to be. Enjoy all the fluffy goodness! ;-)

Forever Taglist: @disfigured-it-out || @chunex || @jasoncrouse || @oceanicseries || @dixonsbait || @negan--is--god || @see-you-then-winchester || @sable-the-trans-ham || @k4veggies || @labyrinthofheartagrams || @purplemuse89 || @ladyynegan || @scentofpineandhazelnutlattes || @may85 || @a-girl-interupted || @spn-cw123 || @multireality || @ashzombie13 || @constellationsolo || @isayweallgetdrunk || @fyeahashley88

(GIF Source: @heartfulloffandoms) 

Denny asked her. He asked her to marry him. Maybe it was the possibility of dying that made him ask her, but either way, she said yes and now he was more than ready to work on his recovery after receiving the new heart. He never thought that after five years, he would have a new heart, a new release on life, and a fiancée that he was extremely in love with.

He was reading the newspaper when suddenly, Izzie walked through the door in her pink dress. When he looked up at her, he felt his breath being taken away at the sight of her. Denny set the paper onto the table nearby and smiled, extending a hand out for her.

“You look –”

She interrupted, making sure to check his vitals. They were aware of how easily prone he was to blood clots, so they made sure to keep a close eye on him.

“Izzie, I’m fine…” he said.

Slowly, she pulled away from him to look into his eyes. She relaxed for a moment and leaned forward to peck his lips. “You can never be sure.”

“Well, thank you for being very thorough. Now, give me a spin,” Denny smiled.

Izzie smiled, standing up and slowly twirling around. She bit her lower lip and looked down at him, noticing his sparkly brown eyes twinkling against the soft light of his hospital room.

“Beautiful,” he commented.

Izzie blushed, “Now, I don’t want to go to this party. I just want to be here with you.”

Denny smiled. Usually, he would urge her to go and be with her colleagues, but tonight, he wanted her all to himself. Slowly, he climbed out of bed and reached for her small bag. He grabbed her phone and unlocked it, playing a slow song.

After he set her phone down on the table, Denny took her hand and pulled her to him. He felt much better now that he had a heart that was working properly. He rested a hand on her lower back as the other held her hand against his chest.

Izzie looked up at him. She wasn’t expecting him to get out of bed and dance with her; this only proved to her that Denny was the one. He was going to make her so happy.

“You’re a bit underdressed,” she teased.

Denny chuckled, “You kidding me? It’s easier access for you.”

Izzie laughed quietly, burying her face against the crook of his neck. She kept one arm wrapped around his shoulders, enjoying how tall he was. She pulled back to look up at him, gently pecking his lips before pulling away.

“Should we start planning our wedding?” he asked.

“You mean you haven’t already begun?”

Denny smiled, “Oh. I was in the middle of getting a new heart, but I did have the chance to call a wedding planner…”

“Really?” Izzie arched a brow.

“No, silly,” he responded.

Izzie shook her head, a large smile lining her lips. She released her hand from his and wrapped both arms around his neck loosely, feeling his own arms wrap around her waist. He held her close to him, swaying side to side to the soft beat of the song.

“As long as we both say ‘I do’, then I don’t mind how we do it. I just want to marry you already,” she said. She didn’t want to waste any more time.

Denny nodded. He leaned down to capture her lips, reveling in the softness of it against his own. He smiled against her, slowly allowing himself to move their lips against one another.

“Mm, Denny… You still have to recover,” she mumbled, pulling away with a blush.

“Just wanted to show you what you’re missing out on.”

“You just never stop, do you?” Izzie asked, laughing quietly.

“Not when I’ve got a beautiful fiancée, nope.”

Izzie smiled, kissing his cheek. She pulled away once the song ended and motioned for him to get back on the bed. He arched a brow and followed her order, lying back.

“Are you going to mount me now?” he winked.

“Denny Duquette!”

“It was worth a try.”

Izzie laughed, shaking her head. She moved to lie next to him, resting her cheek against his shoulder and shutting her eyes. This was much better than attending the party with the rest of the residents.

After Denny was released from the hospital, Izzie made sure to take a few weeks off from work. She spent majority of her time with Denny and moving her things out of the house she shared with Meredith and into Denny’s apartment.

Their wedding day was fast approaching and Denny was ready to take her as his wife. He wrapped his arms around her that night, holding her against him. He never thought he would be cleared for a clean bill of health (with the exception of many check-ups), no less have a beautiful woman in his arms.

He looked down at her, watching as she slept peacefully in his arms. Denny leaned down and kissed her forehead, shutting his eyes and allowing himself to fall into a deep slumber. He couldn’t wait to marry her.

After a week of preparing for their wedding, Izzie was pacing back and forth in the small room. She was dressed in a white gown that trailed outwards at the bottom of her dress. It was sleeveless and strapless, very much like her pink dress, but this was more elegant.

She let out her blonde curls, allowing it to frame her face. Meredith entered the room and looked at her, grinning from ear to ear.

“Okay, what’s the matter?”

“What if he realizes that he doesn’t want me? What if he realizes that now that he’s free from his heart problems, he may want more?” she panicked.

“Izzie… Denny is waiting patiently outside for you. He’s fidgeting, just like you are, but you know just as well as I do that this is meant to happen. He’d never do that to you. He’s your one, Izzie. Now, go on and get out there.”

Izzie took a deep breath and looked over at her. She nodded and hugged Meredith lightly before exiting the room. She allowed Meredith to walk first and once the music began to play, Izzie felt her heart beat out of her chest.

This was it. It was finally happening.

Slowly, Izzie took a step forward and raised her eyes from the ground to meet Denny. Instantly, she smiled to herself. All the worries and concerned she was panicking about had disappeared and all she could imagine was the future she was going to share with Denny.

He was wearing a black and white suit. His hair was cut a bit shorter, but he was still sporting the same facial hair that made him that much more handsome. When he smiled, Izzie couldn’t help but let her heart skip a beat at the sight of his deep dimples.

Once she stood in front of him, Denny reached for her hands and instantly, pulled her a bit closer. He looked into her eyes and smiled, running his thumbs absently along her knuckles.

The couple was stuck in a trance. Everyone around them disappeared. They imagined their future, the possibility of having children, moving into a house, the many nights that they would spend cuddling with one another.

In that moment, they were invincible and nothing was going to stop them from their happy ending.

When the priest asked for their vows, Denny decided to go first. He placed a soft kiss on her knuckles and smiled.

“Isobel Stevens… My firecracker,” he grinned. “When you stepped foot into my hospital room for the first time, there was something about you that attracted me immediately. Maybe it was because of how beautiful you were, but as we spent more time together, I realized that you had become the reason why I wanted to live. You make me laugh, Izzie. I see you and immediately, my entire world brightens around me. I just can’t help but smile.

“You didn’t look at me like I was some patient waiting to die… You gave me hope when I had lost it. Your optimism fueled me to get better, to keep fighting. Our lunch dates became more frequent. I always looked forward to seeing you.

“I had dealt with my heart problem for five years and in that five years, I have never felt as alive as I did when I was with you. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, Izzie. You’ve made me the happiest man alive when you said yes to marry me, and you will continue making me the luckiest man alive to have you as my wife.”

Izzie blinked back the tears, trying desperately not to ruin her makeup. Denny smiled, reaching up to gently wipe a tear away, looking directly into her eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Izzie grinned, wanting to kiss him. She knew that she wasn’t allowed to just yet, so she refrained. When the priest turned to her, she nodded and focused her attention on Denny.

“I never knew how good of a decision it was to be with Dr. Bailey that day. I walked in and despite lying on a hospital bed, you worked your charm. It was difficult to avoid, especially since those dimples make me weak. Like you said, our lunch dates became more frequent. I used every excuse I had to see you.

“The way you look at me, Denny, makes me feel so special. You look at me as if I’m the only woman that matters. You make me feel beautiful, loved… You make me laugh and I love being in your arms. I never thought I would settle down and get married, but then you came into my life.

“I am so deeply in love with you, Denny Duquette. I can’t wait to wake up in your arms every morning or go to sleep in the comfort of our own bed. I can’t wait for this new beginning of ours.”

Izzie finished, biting her lower lip. She looked up at Denny and noticed how he was also restraining himself from kissing her. When the priest asked for the rings, Denny held them up and Izzie grinned.

It was becoming official.

“I do,” Denny said, sliding the ring onto Izzie’s finger.

When the priest turned to Izzie and asked the same question, she nodded and slid the ring onto Denny’s finger, “I certainly do.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride, Mr. Duquette,” the priest said.

Denny grinned, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her in for a deep kiss. Izzie melted into him, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck as she continued to slow, passionate kiss.

When they pulled away, Denny rested his forehead against her own and grinned.

“We got our happy ending,” he whispered.

“Are you ready to start making babies?” she teased.

Denny widened his eyes. “We can skip the reception and go straight into the honeymoon.”

“I’m kidding,” she laughed.

“Mm, you’re going to get it later, Mrs. Duquette.”

Izzie grinned, “It has a nice ring to it.”

“Thank you, Izzie…”

“For what?” she asked.

“For giving me my happy ending.”

[tsunamiwave-s]

THE BASICS

FULL NAME: kehlani ashley parrish MEANING: sea and sky  PRONUNCIATION: kay - law - knee NICKNAME: lani, lani tsunami MUSE LABEL: the tidal wave DATE OF BIRTH: april 24th, 1995 ZODIAC SIGN: taurus RELIGION: raised loosely roman catholic ETHNICITY: black, white, native american, hispanic, and filipino NATIONALITY: american GENDER: cis!female  PREFERRED PRONOUNS: she/her SEXUAL PREFERENCE: bisexual ROMANTIC PREFERENCE: biromantic HOMETOWN: oakland, california  OTHER PLACES LIVED: los angeles, california LANGUAGE(S) KNOWN: english and spanish

BACKGROUND

BIRTH ORDER: first born LEVEL OF EDUCATION: high school EXPERIENCED DISCIPLINE: yes, her aunt was strict because she cared FAMILY’S ECONOMIC STATUS: lower class CHILDHOOD CAREER CHOICE: ballerina SCHOOL SUBJECT(S) THEY EXCELLED AT: music SCHOOL SUBJECT(S) THEY HAD TROUBLE WITH: math

APPEARANCE, VOICE & MANNERISMS

HEIGHT: 5 foot, 4 inches WEIGHT: 112.5 pounds FIGURE/BUILD: slim HAIR COLOR: black HAIR STYLE/LENGTH/WIDTH: short, curly (often wears weave)  EYE COLOR: brown SELF-CARE: over recent years, kehlani has begun to care more about taking care of herself. now she drinks water and has cut back on drinking and smoking (for a while she didn’t do either).   SKIN TONE: tan TATTOOS: too many to name PIERCINGS: ears and nose FREQUENTLY WORN JEWELRY: earrings, septum ring, nose ring 

PERSONALITY:

PERSONALITY TYPE: enfp  UPON FIRST MEETING THEM: shy, reserved, silly  GETTING TO KNOW THEM: loud, even sillier, kind hearted CATCHPHRASE(S): n/a POSITIVE TRAITS: kind, happy, bubbly, sarcastic, sassy, silly, passionate, compassionate NEGATIVE TRAITS: insecure, stubborn, prideful, mouthy  LIKES: star wars, animals, body modifications, dancing DISLIKES: social pressure,  USUAL MOOD: laid back, silly SENSE OF HUMOR: everything makes her laugh SOFT SPOTS/VULNERABILITIES: her birth parents INSECURITIES:  FEARS: failure, letting her city down, losing herself, losing her family COMFORTS: oakland, oversized sweatpants,  HABITS/QUIRKS: quirky NERVOUS TICS: shaking leg, biting nails, isolating herself HOBBIES: writing, dancing, movie marathons GUILTY PLEASURE: cheesy cult movies from the 80s (specifically dirty dancing) DESIRES: a better life for her siblings, her mother’s sobriety,  WISHES: same as desires REGRETS: forgiving her mother so many times only to be let down again SECRETS: to be determined SUPERSTITIONS: none LUCKY NUMBER: 19 PET PEEVES: social media thugs, being underestimated, people assuming things about her 

HEALTH & PSYCHOLOGY

TIME OF BIRTH: 11:30pm PLACE OF BIRTH: oakland, california MANNER OF BIRTH:  KIND OF BIRTH: vaginal BIRTH WEIGHT/LENGTH: SEX: female DIET: omnivore ALCOHOL USE: yes, socially DRUG USE: yes, frequently ADDICTIONS: none ALLERGIES: pears EXERCISE HABITS: none, but she’s active because of being a musician constantly on the move SLEEPING HABITS: she’s got a special skill that allows her to sleep anywhere, any time.  DO THEY GET OCCASIONAL CHECKUPS: yes, her umbilical hernia has had her hospitalized a few times EVER BROKEN A BONE: no HOSPITAL VISITS, WHAT FOR: hernia ANY PHYSICAL AILMENTS/ILLNESSES/DISABILITIES: as mentioned ANY MENTAL ILLNESSES/DISORDERS: bipolar disorder, depression WHEN WERE THEY DIAGNOSED: fifteen years old  MEDICATION REGULARLY TAKEN: depakote, 25 mg/kg daily PHOBIA(S): none ARE THEY PRONE TO VIOLENCE: no

LITTLE THINGS

ENNEAGRAM TYPE: peacemaker MORAL ALIGNMENT: lawful good ELEMENT: earth HOGWARTS HOUSE: hufflepuff INTELLIGENCE TYPE: musical SOCIABILITY: introverted EMOTIONAL STABILITY: pretty decent but vulnerable to faltering 

LEGAL RECORD

BIRTH NAME: kehlani ashley parrish OTHER LEGAL NAMES: n/a ANY SPEEDING TICKETS: no HAVE THEY EVER BEEN ARRESTED: no, but only because she’s a fast runner which came in handy when house parties were broken up EVER SERVED PRISON TIME: no DO THEY HAVE A CRIMINAL RECORD: no HAVE THEY COMMITTED ANY VIOLENT CRIMES: no PROPERTY CRIMES: no TRAFFIC CRIMES: no:  OTHER CRIMES: no WERE THEY EVER LEGALLY DECLARED DEAD: no

CAREER AND INCOME

OCCUPATION: singer/songwriter PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: her occupation  SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: none NET WORTH: 3 million  CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB: yes PAST JOBS: singer in poplyfe SPENDING HABITS: impulsive, but she’s working on it DREAM JOB: ballerina WORK ETHIC: driven and passionate FEELINGS ON THEIR PAST OCCUPATION: she loved poplyfe, but she was being taken advantage of by the adults in charge and when she called it out – her ‘best friends’ ditched her, so it’s a tainted experience REASON FOR LEAVING PAST OCCUPATIONS: there was some shadiness, sketchiness, and overall inappropriate-ness from the adults who were in charge of the band. because she was estranged from her legal guardian at the time, kehlani was an easy target for mistreatment and it eventually became to be too much.  REASON FOR THEIR CURRENT CHOICE OF OCCUPATION: singing is her second choice, which she had to go with because her first choice (dancing) became impossible because of a knee injury HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN IN THEIR CURRENT OCCUPATION?: 3 years ARE THEY WELL LIKED AMONG THEIR COLLEAGUES AND EMPLOYERS: yes! kehlani is becoming a name in her genre, which is a big deal for a new comer. 

RESIDENCE:

LIVING SITUATION: by herself, with some pets GOOD OR BAD NEIGHBORHOOD?: good COST/RENT: 1.4 million HOME TYPE : house HOW MANY STORIES: 2 EXTERIOR COLOUR: white INTERIOR COLOUR: white HOW MANY BEDROOMS: 4 HOW MANY BATHROOMS: 4 ANY PLANTS: a few scattered throughout TILE, WOOD, OR CARPETING: wood HOUSEKEEPING: none, she does it herself SOMETHING THEY USUALLY KEEP STOCKED IN THEIR FRIDGE OR CABINET: hot cheetos and puffcorn SOMETHING THEY ALWAYS KEEP NEXT TO THEIR NIGHT STAND: water, a lighter, and a small journal HOW DO THEIR NEIGHBORS FEEL ABOUT THEM: they think she’s sweet because she watches their pets/waters their plants when they’re out of town DO THEY HATE THEIR NEIGHBORS; IF SO, WHY: she doesn’t, but she feels out of place in such a high class part of the city IS THEIR HOME HAUNTED: no HAS THERE BEEN ANY DEATHS IN THEIR HOME: not that she knows of OTHER: none

SEX AND ROMANCE:

VIRGINITY: no, lost when she was in high school GENDER PREFERENCE: none DOMINANT/SUBMISSIVE: neutral, leaning submissive TOP/BOTTOM/VERSATILE: versatile TURN-ONS: confidence, dirty talk, dominance TURN-OFFS: cocky, demanding, selfish MAJOR KINKS: bdsm, dirty talk, prolonged foreplay AVERAGE KINKS: who the fuck knows ANTI-KINKS: mommy kinks, any bodily fluid, physical harm, etc  GENERAL LIBIDO: medium to high DO THEY HAVE SEX OFTEN: if she can vibe with someone, yes DO THEY TAKE THE INITIATIVE: yes HOW DO THEY ACT: very playful, very teasing DO THEY GO SLOW OR JUMP IN: slow in foreplay, jump in for the rest DO THEY ACT LIKE A FRIEND OR A LOVER: friend TYPE OF KISSER: sweet, caring, slow DO THEY LIKE KISSING IN PUBLIC: yes CAN THEY COMMIT TO ONE PERSON: yes WHAT ARE THEY LIKE IN RELATIONSHIPS: supportive, fun, relaxed DO THEY WANT KIDS: yes! before she’s 25 DO THEY WANT TO MARRY: it’d be nice since it’d break the stereotype HOW LONG WAS THEIR LONGEST RELATIONSHIP: almost a year HOW ARE THEY IN BED: playful, more on the quiet side,  DO THEY GET JEALOUS EASILY: yes and no, depends on the person FAVORITE POSITION: welcome to all  FEELINGS ON ORAL: enjoys giving to women more than men 

FAMILY:

FATHER: khalil banks (deceased( DESCRIBE THEIR RELATIONSHIP: none, as he was murdered when kehlani was only an infant.  MOTHER: rayen parrish (estranged biological mother) and cheyenne parrish (adoptive mother/aunt)  DESCRIBE THEIR RELATIONSHIP: kehlani has a very, very rocky relationship with her mother, who is a longterm drug addict. because of her illness, she has never been able to care for a child. as a result, kehlani was in and out of foster care for the first few years of her life until she was eventually taken away for good. as kehlani got older, her mother would show up out of the blue (usually swearing that she’s a changed woman), ask or steal money, then leave again. kehlani is used to this routine but it still hurts her to deal with. and as much as she wants to cut her off, she can’t completely turn her back on rayen. luckily, when kehlani was young, her aunt cheynne stepped in and legally adopted her and raised her as her own. from that moment on, kehlani had a stable home environment. it took very little time for kehlani to see cheyenne as her mother; if kehlani brings up her ‘mother’, it’s likely she really means her aunt.  SIGNIFICANT OTHER: none CHILDREN: none PET(S): 2 cats, 1 dog BEST FRIEND(S): gerald gillum CHILDHOOD FRIEND(S): n/a RIVAL(S): n/a PAST ROMANCE(S): xavier rexha ROOMMATE(S): n/a, hmu for these plots OTHER: