#that kind of thing ya know?

[narsh-potatoes]

Never apologize for rambling abt your OCs on my post. I love y ou (and HOHHH THAT SOUNDS SO INTERSETING I'M LOOKING)

OKAY COOL FUCK YEAH THANKS

im using you as an excuse to talk about my very own home-grown blorbos now

So!!!!!!!!! i literally only have half of a design for the two of these ocs, i've only drawn one of them ONCE and i don't count it cuz i wanna redesign him COMPLETELY (that piece is not even canon, i had to do that for a class so i put stuff in there that doesn't even belong to the type of story it is </3), i've written for the two of them a couple times but im not even sure THAT'S canon anymore

(here's the art in case you don't wanna click on a link)

i think the writing might still be canon tho, i do still kinda like a lot of the stuff it went over with that. N E WAYS.

basically there's this pair of witches (they don't. really have. names. oops. they did but i don't like them anymore) who enlisted and then eventually rose to the top of fighting this war/apocalypse/encroaching disaster that has been ongoing for a LONG time. like, they're at the end of the world but turns out the end of the world is a hell of a lot slower than anyone imagined. they've been fighting it for a long time (and it does involve actual fighting? like i like to think that this apocalypse acts more as like. locust swarm but the bugs are big big buggy boys that hates you hates you hates you and eats the magic out of the world)

and the first (we'll call him A) is the one who rose up in the ranks to be best of the best very quickly, because his kind of magic is very powerful and was critically effective in the fight. and the second guy (we'll call him B) is kind of. worst of the best. SORT OF. he was best of the best because he fought alongside A and B's brand of magic explicitly deals with the bond the two of them shared. (i call it bonds magic cuz i can't think of something better for now) (yes it's power of friendship) (there more to that but whatever) it was IMMENSELY powerful!!! not moreso than A's magic, but still!! very powerful!!! so B rose up because A pulled him up (not entirely true!!! but you get the point. nuance)

BUT THEN. sometime after they had been in the war for a long ass time, A leaves. either from shame, either he's disillusioned, something happened, he won't say. and just kind of. leaves B behind. who still is very much part of the war and won't say anything to sway A's mind because he cares too much about what he thinks

years later, B's still part of the war/doom effort. and magic in the world has kind of deteriorated so much that it's. honestly kind of hard to come across a solid magic user these days. they still teach them and still get people to join the effort, but compared to the older days, it's a lot less. people can learn magic, everyone can, but it's hard to get like. a professional, someone who has unlocked the higher abilities of magic. people like A or B.

speaking of! yeah. B is still part of the war effort. and it's NOW at the period of time where he's the worst of the best, but he's the only one they've got. they still keep him around because who else is there, really, and also he can still utilize the powerful bond magic he made way back when with A, so he's still very powerful but it's just. different. ya know? he's standing in the shadow of just the IDEA of A, and he's not even here anymore. and it's not filled with resentment, never. never resentment. he could never tarnish that. it's only ever love. and looking up to A. it didn't feel like he cast a shadow because to B, to him, he only ever cast light.

but also. A left. left him. alone.

so he's dealing with that in a perfectly reasonable manner (not thinking about it)

meanwhile A has decided to live a pastoral life away from the apocalypse and is totally not repressing his issues either. <3.

and like!!! the council or whatever that's in charge of all the witches is like "hey. B. you know your way cooler friend? you still keep in touch right?" and sends him off to go find A again after all these years to bring him back to the war and there's a whole mess of meeting again and having to meet with all the things you left unsaid, and all the everything and OOUAOUGHFF it's a whole mess.

anyways i want to make this a comic but also i kind of need to. yknow. design and draw the comic if i want to make the comic. so like. rage.

[neostellarjpg]

i like ralsei hes so regular and nothings going on with him

[likesdoodling]

Doodles :D

[mellosdrawings]

Oh to be alive in a time when shonens tackle subjects like trangenderism/gnc people with kindness and acceptance.

[wonderholegifs]

Rhett & Link's Wonderhole

[real-bands-save-fans]

Idk why people want landoscar to be the next brocedes so damn bad, cause it's just not happening. Both have said time and time again how they don't want to go down that route, and I do believe BOTH are completely capable of recreating brocedes if they absolutely hated each other. But they don't. Whether or not you believe they're friends or just colleagues, there is a respect there that means they won't let it happen. I personally don't see them ever going down that route, but if god forbid they do I see them having a major public falling out before that happens.

[cerebral-device]

LILI SWEEEEP💪💪💥

Imagine she’s listening to something cool

I have been considering turning these (and some other isolated designs like the Milla drawings) as stickers ! As well as some of the full pieces like the first image and the Sasha and Milla ones as prints! I’d love to have some feedback or let me know if youd’s be interested !!

[silversinfinity]

Cabin Fever

*this is a fetish blog- non-fet blogs and minors DNI (no age in bio -> blocked)*

Fandom: L/ove and D/eepspace Spoilers: None Pairing/AU: Z/ayne X f!Reader, normal universe Length: 5.4k

Contains: sneeze fetish content (duh), sickfic, fevers, caretaking, that trope where a character’s powers act up because they’re sick, reader insert

Summary: L/ove and D/eepspace's "Winter's Emissaries" summer event, wherein everything is the same, except I made it better gave Z/ayne a cold.

Notes: Backstory time! This game had an event last summer that included four different virtual roleplaying games to complete (one for each guy). In the one featuring Z/ayne, you play as “Winter’s Emissaries” searching for treasure to save a village. While playing through these, you also receive special social media interactions, one of them being this one from Z/ayne. I think my inspiration should speak for itself… 🥴

I wanted this to feel like it could seamlessly fit into the original canon plot, so a few lines of dialogue and description were adapted directly from the game. There's also gonna be casual mentions of things which might go over your head if you haven't played, but it shouldn't ruin the fic reading experience!

Okay, enough yapping. Enjoy 🫶

Fic Masterlist

Your reflection was barely visible in the glass as you stared out the window. Snow swirled in a gray and white cacophony, past the glass pane and all across the region as far as you could see. The conditions seemed more treacherous now that you had escaped them, free to observe rather than experience it. 

You'd experienced it enough today, anyways. Your face still stung of whipping, icy winds, and your hair dripped as clumps of ice and snow melted off your head. Every part of you felt chilled- your fingers, your toes, hell, your very soul. This little cabin was truly the desert oasis of the frigid mountain forests. There was no way either of you could've survived a night out there. 

To your right and behind you, a stunted rush of flames brought the fireplace to life. Your hand curled over your chest, relieved. There was never a situation where you weren't grateful to have Zayne around, but this one especially so. His simple presence was enough to flip an unfortunate situation into a favorable one, or at the very least, an okay one. This would be okay.

Another bundle of snowflakes rushed past the window as a new gust of wind took to the air with violence. You leaned into the knotted pine of the window sill and walls, pressing one ear to the glass.

Your brow furrowed. Only the crackling of the fireplace registered to your senses. Not even a muffled echo of the blizzard’s roar could be detected through the glass. Was the soundproofing of this cabin really that thorough?

Zayne’s hand on your shoulder shook the question out of your mind. “You shouldn't stand so close to the glass. A blizzard can break the window.” His voice was calm. “Come sit by the fireplace. It'll warm you up.”

You stood back from the glass, and one of Zayne’s hands caressed your cheek, palm hot against the chapped skin of your face. You found him in a similar state, skin flushed and wind-broken around and across his nose.

Zayne led you to the fireplace with a hand to your back. Heat instantly washed over you, and you tugged off the heavy coat that still clung to your shoulders. 

“You say I need to warm up, but you're the one who gave up your coat,” you said, hanging it on the hook off to the side of the hearth. He'd insisted you take it, once you realized the hard way that your own coat was highly insufficient for the weather.

“You're right. Come sit.” Zayne had seated himself in a wicker chair a few feet back from the fire’s glow. You paused to consider whether there was enough room to join him. If you were expected to fit next to him, you’d practically need to be sitting in his lap.

…Not that you minded. You never minded that.

As anticipated, you found yourself crunching your knees up to settle yourself next to him. You were squished against him, legs to legs, warm body to warm body.

It occurred to you, though, that there was plenty of sitting space throughout the cabin suitable for two people, much unlike the chair you had just forced your way into. You looked at Zayne and smirked. “I get it. You're using the fireplace as an excuse to cuddle, aren't you?” 

Zayne tilted his head and met your gaze. His lip curled so subtly you had to squint to see it: “Well, if you knew that was my goal, why did you still join me?” 

You nearly got lost in his eyes, aglow with a sunset orange reflection of the flames. “Because… I may or may not have the same goal,” you finally admitted, nestling the rest of your body to Zayne’s. Your head settled perfectly against his chest, like a puzzle piece to its match.

“I'm honored to be your personal heater after serving as your navigator.” 

A comfortable silence followed Zayne’s words. Your attention honed in on the crackling of the fireplace, the flames within wiggling their unsteady dance and casting a faint, smoky scent into the air. You inhaled deeper, chasing the nostalgic memories of summer bonfires lingering behind. The air was dry, but warm enough now that you didn’t feel moisture chasing every breath in through your nose. But the same couldn’t be said yet for Zayne, based on the still frequent sniffling above you. It really was dreadful out there…

The whole reason for your journey here slowly crept back into your mind. Today the blizzard would keep you both within the safety and warmth of this cabin, but you knew there was still a long journey in the cold ahead of you. As Winters Emissaries, it was your duty to complete the task given to you. The whole of a village was counting on it. 

As to what it was though, you still weren't completely sure.

“Hey… do you think the treasure the villagers mentioned is something like this?” 

You felt Zayne move above you at the sudden sound of your voice. He pondered your question. “A treasure that brings warmth in winter… the concept is similar enough,” he eventually said. 

“But visiting the palace just to get firewood for them would be pointless. They could just go into the forest themselves, couldn't they?”

“Perhaps the treasure is a self-heating energy stone. Winters Emissaries are like torchbearers. They've been entrusted with the responsibility of bringing energy to the village.”

An image of yourself and Zayne wearing special ceremonial attire during an Olympic opening ceremony, sacred torch and all, flashed in your mind. It was far more flashy and loud than your actual reality, traveling alone together in the winter wilderness of the mountains as the elements assaulted you. “Zayne, your imagination got a little wild there,” you giggled. 

“Oh? Then what sort of fantasy would you prefer to listen to?” Zayne sniffled again. Outside, the world had begun to turn dark.

“Something real, maybe.” Your eyes searched the space above the fireplace, as if the answer would appear there for you. “Hmm… talk about your childhood memories. When we were kids, wasn't there a time a snowstorm trapped you at my house?”

Long was the history between the two of you. You spent your childhood together, grew up together, and now Zayne was a unique combo of your primary doctor, lover,  and a formidable fighter you could rely on in any Wanderer encounter. 

So, you were a little hopeful Zayne would still remember your early days, after everything you'd been through. 

Zayne’s hand fidgeted at the small of your back. “...I remember that,” he finally began. “My parents and I went to your place for dinner. And then it suddenly started snowing. It was getting late, and we tried to head home but the car wouldn't start. We had no choice but to spend the night there.” Zayne paused, swallowed, and cleared his throat. His voice was noticeably rougher when he spoke again though, as if he hadn't cleared anything at all, “But you had already returned to your room. We had barely talked that day…”

There was a tremble you noticed in his voice too, as though the memories themselves manifested within the language he spoke. He wasn't always the most straight forward with his sentimentality of your shared youth, but there were always signs he cherished them the same way you did.

Yet you always felt strange, separated from yourself whenever you reflected on it, everything being the same and yet so different from what you had with him today. As children, could Zayne and I have ever imagined ourselves nestled by the fireplace one day, enjoying idle conversation?

“Maybe it's because I went to bed too early that day. If only I had known…”

You waited for Zayne to respond, or continue, but it never came. His breathing steadied and slowed above you, and you craned your neck to look up at him. 

His eyes were closed, long, dark lashes completely still. No surprise sleep took him so quickly; for as often as he would lecture you about getting enough sleep, you knew his line of work didn't allow him to rest as well as he'd like. He was known for taking any time he could between surgeries to nap. This quiet time in a cabin was the perfect environment for Zayne to take advantage of.

You were careful not to disturb him as you settled your head back where it was most comfortable. The warmth you shared between your bodies had only grown, stealing away any drive you had left to stay awake. The fireplace became a blur as your eyelids drooped.

Against your ear though, you were still awake enough to notice the slight wheeze in his breathing. And from his nose, the tiniest whistle when he exhaled. Both were not typical for him, in all the times you had rested together.

Mentally, you winced, remembering the pity taken on your poor choice of winter wear once the blizzard hit. Zayne assured you he still had enough layers on, and initially you believed him. 

Now though, you realized he would've told you that anyways. Of course he would've; he was prone to worrying more about you than himself. 

You wondered if this wasn't normal tired for him, but sick tired. Had he been hiding it from you? Or was it too early for him to even realize?

You were only barely awake yourself anymore, unable to think clearly. “Zayne?” you murmured, quiet, still hesitant to wake him. You heard nothing back, and then you heard nothing at all, as sleep stole you away too. 

—

You woke up suddenly, somewhere soft, warm. Pillow under your head, and layers of blankets draped over you. Sluggishly, you picked up your head. The grey light of morning seeped through the windows, pale and too early to be awake. You squinted to make out flecks of snow billowing past the window, just as energetically as the day previous. 

This wasn't where you had fallen asleep. So how did you…? 

Oh, right.

Somewhere in the night, you vaguely remembered being lifted and held to Zayne’s chest before he settled you somewhere else- it was in this bed, you now knew. You stretched and whined beneath the blankets before rolling over. Next to you, the comforter was pulled back and the fitted sheet wrinkled, implying Zayne had slept there next to you. The bed suddenly felt cold.

As you sat up, you frowned. Something had woken you, but what? It was quiet in the cabin. “Zayne…?” you called out groggily.

“heh’tSCHh-!”

Oh.

“hegH’SCHUhh-!”

Sneezing. Zayne sneezing, to be exact. Muffled and echoey beyond the half wall immediately behind you, you concluded he was too far away to have heard you, in another room of the cabin. 

You heard him sneeze again, after a longer delay. You internally winced as you had the night before. For all the time you'd known Zayne, you'd never heard such frequent disruptions, except for when an outside factor- such as illness- was actively aggravating him.

The urge to investigate dragged you out of bed. Your ears pointed you towards the bathroom across the way. As you got closer though, you stopped. The sound of rushing water could be heard, loud and clear with the door of the bathroom wide open. Your approach to the door was a little more hesitant- was he showering this early in the morning?

Beyond the steam cloaking the room, you found Zayne not in the shower, but hovering just to the side of the sink. His hair was slightly disheveled from its usual neatness, and damp, implying he'd been standing in there for some time. Even from where you stood in the doorway, his body language read of discomfort.

Though you stepped lightly, your bare feet weren't quiet enough to avoid alerting him. Zayne turned to look your way. His posture instantly straightened, but it didn't hold, wavering in tune with his breath. 

“Y-Y/N, hih…! hH’gnx’SCHhh-!” He notably pressed into his wrist, cutting the volume. That wrist flipped, and his fingers clamped over his nose, pinching tightly over the bridge in a fashion you'd seen before, when he was either annoyed or- “heh-NGTt-uh!” -suppressing a sneeze. 

“Bless you… thanks for the wake up call.” You couldn't help yourself from teasing him.

“Did I wake you?” He paused to sniffle, thick, unproductive. “I tried to be quiet getting out of bed, but I suppose that didn't last…” Zayne’s voice cracked and he coughed, hoarse. 

Concerned, you stepped into the bathroom, closing the space between you. “What's with the shower?” you said. 

“Clearing out my sinuses. You can turn it off.” The steam in the room was pleasantly warm, but the humidity was a little much, you thought. You shut the water off.

“Did it help?” you asked. 

“Well, it made me sneeze through the worst of it.” With the water off, you can hear congestion in his voice more clearly, and you shuddered to think this was an improvement from when he'd first awoke. His illness had set in, and it had done so quicker than you thought possible. Zayne took one step back from the counter, touching one temple and wincing. You saw him sway.

Your brow furrowed. One of your hands drew up to his forehead before Zayne had the chance to stop you. Your fingers brushed his bangs aside with a gentle sweep, and the pads of your fingers ghosted heat, searing his skin deeper than any steam could create on the surface. 

“You have a fever…” Zayne swatted you away, but you grabbed at his wrist in rebellion. Instantly, you gasped and froze in place. Under your palm and fingers was an icy cold, etched across his skin and leaving purple welts in his wake- it could only have originated from his abilities. “Your Evol, why…?”

In one quick move, Zayne shook his head at you, tugged his freezing wrist from your grasp, and twisted away with a wrenching sneeze. 

“hegH’NSCHhih-! Hh…” The exhale carried exhaustion. You allowed him the space to recover but refused him another inch beyond that. As you examined him closer, you realized that white, crackling frost glazed not just his wrist, but his neck too. 

“Are you…okay? Why is your Evol doing that?” you asked.

But Zayne couldn’t seem to catch a break. “I'm f-fine…hih…!” His denial was drowned out in a shuddering hitch of breath. He managed to retrieve a bunched up wash cloth from the counter, just in time to jam it under his nose before he-

“hih’MPFSChh-!”

Punctual.

“Bless you,” you said, wincing. “Uh, you were saying? About being fine?”

He was even slower to recover, as though the very last of his energy had seeped out through his sinuses, dampening the already soiled cloth in his hand. “I'm not denying that. Obviously I'm not well.” Zayne slid past you to leave the bathroom, and you followed nervously behind him to where he dropped down on the couch. He barely seemed to be present, tilting his head back, eyes closed. The dark shadows under his eyes told you he hadn’t slept much. “I just meant… the ice. I'm fine, this always happens when I'm unwell.” 

From where you sat next to him, you took the chance to touch his forehead again, and Zayne didn't protest this time. It was worse than you initially thought. “You're really hot, Zayne…”

One eye opened. “Flirting with me while I'm sick?”

“Hey, you know what I mean…” You smiled and felt at ease- at least he wasn't so ill that mirth failed him. 

It couldn't cure all your worries, though. Your touch trailed down his cheek, to his jawline, and then his neck. It was there that the temperature under your fingers went shockingly cold, as though he'd just been outside in the winter elements without a scarf. Zayne’s brow knitted at your touch, and he shivered. 

“You're freezing,” you commented. It wasn't a question, but Zayne nodded anyway. “Let me warm you up, then.” This too, wasn't a question of permission, but rather a warning that you would try regardless.

Again though, Zayne nodded. Even a doctor as work-driven as he was knew when it was time for someone else to do the caring.

You looked first to the fireplace across from the couch, in front of the chair where you had both dozed off last night. The flames weren't flames but small, smoldering ashes- certainly of no substance to subdue a fever and keep the chill of winter out. 

You tossed another couple logs on and allowed a moment for the fire to catch.

Then, back on the couch, you adjusted your knees under you. “Here, let me squeeze in.” You sidled close to Zayne’s spot on the sectional. He hesitantly straightened his legs, allowing you space between him and the back cushion of the couch.

“It'll get nice and warm here soon,” you assured. Zayne hummed, glassy, hazel eyes fixed to the ceiling above. Your attention drew back to his Evol, still vicious and frosty at his wrists and throat. The warmth of the fire couldn't sedate this- this cold came from within, and the longer you lingered on it, the more uncomfortable it looked. You feared self-inflicted frostbite was in his near future.

“Do you think you might be overdoing it? Your Evol, I mean.”

“It's…” Zayne paused, shivering violently as though simply acknowledging the sensation made it worse. You swore you saw vapor as he exhaled, as if the air of winter itself were contained around his head in a bubble. “It's against my will, mostly…”

His discomfort was nearly palpable to you as you realized this was completely out of his control. This was the same cold extreme enough for Zayne to use in combat, after all, and now it was acting of its own accord, attacking him. 

“Think of it as a flight or fight response,” Zayne went on. “My temperature is up, therefore my body is responding by trying to cool down.”

“It's just too much, isn't it?” you said, finishing his thought for him. Zayne nodded, casting his gaze towards you. He'd never looked so openly vulnerable underneath you, except in distant memories, and you felt your heart soften despite the circumstances. 

You laid your weight heavier into him, shuffling so that one leg intertwined between his own. He caught your eye when he moved his hands out of your way. 

Maybe… if you resonated with him…?

You reached for one hand. “Here, let me just…”

Zayne shrunk away though, tucking his arms to his sides. “No, you shouldn't…touch me when I'm like this. Not on my skin.” Worry, genuine worry flickered in his eyes, and you felt that soft glow in your chest trip and falter.

“Zayne…” Your hands remained hovered at his wrist. Begging him with your eyes. He tensed, but he didn't stop you from closing your touch over his wrist. His skin was frigid, burning against your warmer palms, but only that. “You won't hurt me. I promise.”

You seemed to get through to him, and Zayne found it in himself to relax, finally. Your squeeze over his wrist was firm, but gentle, wringing your grip back and forth. You slowed your breathing and sought his Evol’s frequency, and it met you with a chaotic and unusual rhythm. A warm light glowed from your palms. In a matter of seconds, his skin took the warmth of yours.

“Better?” You asked. 

Zayne nodded, brow raised just slightly as though he didn't expect this outcome. You weren't sure you had expected it to work either. Discomfort crept back into his features, and he breathed through clenched teeth- you healed his other wrist with more urgency.

Briefly, you chewed the inside of your cheek. You couldn't deny that you found it all alarming, try as Zayne might to act casual about the whole thing. The nature of Evol was different person to person, but was it really okay for it to attack its user? Even under circumstances of illness? What if there was more to this?

…No, no. You had to shake this out of your head, stick to the task at hand. Interrogating him in the midst of being miserable wasn't good for either of you.

You forced the frown out of your expression, before Zayne could read it and interrogate you instead. “Your hands look better,” you said. “Is it just your shoulders now?”

“Yes. I think.”

“Get comfortable, then.” Both having lost their icy touch, he tucked his hands under you, and you properly draped yourself over him like a weighted blanket. Zayne tilted his head up to accept your arms wrapping over the back of his freezing neck.

You suppressed a shiver of your own as you nuzzled your cheek into the crook of one shoulder, the cold seeping into you through his shirt. Then, you remained still, focusing to match the frequency of his powers again, further resonating. Any remaining anxiety drained out of you. Maybe you couldn't cure his cold completely, but a small win was still a win in the war against misery.

Zayne sighed above you in relief. ”hh…hih…!” And then in urgency. He fidgeted under you, prompting you to lift your head.

You were greeted with the sight of a man most definitely about to sneeze.

And it had you a little mesmerized, to say the least- the stoic type, you rarely ever witnessed his face so obviously contorted. Somehow, Zayne always maintained a calm and collected demeanor, even when he was feeling anything but. This expression he currently wore though, was scrunched up, needy. His brow pinched together, eyelids taught. And the pink rims of his nostrils ticklishly flared, lip curled back into a snarl.

“Y-Y/N, my…hands…!” His breathy voice barely hung above a whisper.

You didn't get the memo- at least not fast enough. His hands remained trapped under you, and with nowhere else to hide, Zayne twisted toward the couch cushion, squelching the sneeze into submission by willpower alone.

Willpower didn't carry him very far, however. “hH’NXTt’shih-!” The burst of moisture that broke through was audible. Zayne’s chest swelled under you to gear up for a second one, and you braced a little tighter around his neck- “hegH’SCHUhh-!” The force his sneezes wrought nearly folded him at the waist, even with your full weight on top of him.

Zayne stilled after that. You were more timid as you looked back up to him. “Bless you. You shouldn't fight it like that…” you said softly.

“You shouldn't keep my hands trapped, then,” Zayne shot back.

You shrugged, although you did shift your hips up to free one of his arms. Zayne took to knuckling under his nose, before carefully dabbing at any excess dampness with the edge of his sleeve. 

“Really though, don't worry about politeness,” you went on. Your expression turned downcast. “You're sick because of me, after all.”

Several seconds passed as Zayne processed your words. Then, he gave you a look, the one he always had when you said something silly.  “You know people don't get sick just from being out in the cold, right?” 

“Says who?”

“Y/N, I'm a doctor. Your doctor,” Zayne deadpanned. 

You couldn't hide your grin. “Okay, but consider this: I saw it happen in a movie. A lot of movies, actually.”

Zayne shook his head. A yawn crept into his voice, and his eyes closed. “Right. Next time I need continuing education credits, I'll just watch some movies instead.”

“You better invite me over for a movie date night then!”

“But of course.” You held him a little tighter. The corner of Zayne’s mouth tugged into a smile. “Y/N… you really never grew up,” he said. 

“Oh?” You tilted your head at him. 

“You're just as unserious as you were when we were young,” Zayne went on. “More than when we were young, actually.”

To that, you stuck your tongue out. “Coming from the most serious guy I know? You should try it sometime.” 

Zayne opened his eyes, and there was That Look again, the Y/N-Said-Something-Ridiculous Look. For a moment, it even seemed like the feverish haze had left his eyes. But it only lasted a second, and the sorry state of him continued to be evident.

Your eyes shifted down to his throat. The skin looked healthy now, as though it had never been coated in a deadly ice. “So is this whole, uh, Evol thing gone now?” you asked awkwardly.

“For now. I imagine it’ll stay away now, so long as you're here.” 

A complicated knot of feelings sat in your chest, out of nowhere. For all the times Zayne had gone out of his way to protect you, save you, cure you, rarely could you return the favor. And it was a regular experience- you were good at getting yourself into trouble, after all.

But now, here you were, in a position where he needed you. 

“Good,” was all you could muster in response. 

Your hands snaked out from behind his head where they found his face. Cupping his cheeks, your fingers brushed over all the contours you now knew deeply, intimately. You let your eyes drift thoughtfully over his lips, threatening your resolve. 

Clearly you had grown up in some way- the idea of kissing Zayne would've been strange and wrong in your youth, but now you found yourself fighting with your better judgment not to. You could already hear him quietly scold you for kissing him while he was sick.

Only then did you realize Zayne was looking at you. You found yourself instantly shy under his scrutiny- for all the times you had kissed him, gone on dates, fully gave yourself to him, he still managed to make you nervous. 

Just as the tension of your eye contact threatened to become too heavy, Zayne sighed and melted a little deeper into the couch. You shook yourself back into a caretaker mindset. 

“Are you warm enough?” Zayne hummed his confirmation. “Okay… can I get you anything? Fever reducers, maybe?”

You sat up, preparing to get up from the couch, but Zayne’s hands held your waist firmly. “I already took some. Why don't you just rest here with me?” His words caught and he coughed into his shoulder.  

Zayne’s voice was growing ragged, even for how softly he spoke. You made a mental note to raid the cabinets for tea later, whenever he was ready to accept it. 

For now though, resting with him would be an easy task. The light filtering through the snow plastered windows was still too dim and early for your liking. And with the most concerning of Zayne’s symptoms relieved, you were content to relax a little. Your breathing synced with the slowed pace of his, calm.

For all the symptoms that had been relieved though, there was always another waiting to rear its head and break the moment.

Zayne suddenly stirred under you. He stiffly exhaled. “Actually, Y/N…” Zayne sniffled, and then sniffled again, sharply squeaking within his swollen sinuses. “Maybe…you should, hih…!”  You sat up in time to see the twinge in his expression take hold, uncertain, a will-he or won't-he battle. The fluttering of his eyes and twitch of his nares tells you he definitely will, though Zayne seemed intent on holding back. The rest of his words tumbled out in a rush, “...should get me some tih-! tissues, hH-!”

His arm tensed over your back, and he swung up with the intent to cover above you. You moved quicker though, tucking his face against your shoulder. Another gasp shook him beneath you, fluttering against your skin. You only held him tighter.

“heH’MFSCHHeh-!” Throaty and violent, the sound was squashed into your shirt. It was a warm and damp rush in the fabric, and Zayne jostled you as his nose betrayed him a second time. “hH-! ‘ESCHh’uh-!”

Several peaceful seconds came and went. You propped yourself up and met his gaze sheepishly, exposing the damp spot that now soiled your shirt. Zayne’s face was hard to read, but his ears were noticeably pink. “You know, when people ask for tissues, they don’t usually mean someone else’s shirt,” he mumbled.

“I- wasn’t thinking, I guess…” you said. One hand lazily traced along the curved top of his ear. “You don't need to be so embarrassed.”

“I have a fever, remember?” Zayne retorted, so casually that you almost couldn’t detect it as an excuse- almost. He sniffled again, wet and productive. “Listen, I could still really use those tissues… unless you’re expecting me to use your shirt for that too.” His eyes shifted away from you.

The heat on his face seemed to possess your own cheeks, as it occurred to you just how compromised he was under you. Completely at your will, or at least as completely as he would allow, and so far it seemed to be a lot. Your mind threatened to drift to places far from innocent. 

“No, not unless you- asked to, I mean…! N-not at all.” Your words tripped over themselves as your tongue knotted itself with your inner desires. You shimmied back to the other end of the couch, part in preparation to get up, but mostly to hide yourself from Zayne’s intelligent gaze. He could always read right through you.

You managed to pull yourself together while fetching a tissue box from the bathroom. And a glass of water- you were sure he needed it.

You stopped in your tracks exiting the bathroom. Zayne still laid on the couch, eyes closed, somehow serene despite  being in the throes of a bad cold. 

Cute.

He stirred once you approached close enough to be heard. “Here,” you said, passing the box of tissues to him.

“A whole box? How generous,” he playfully remarked. Zayne plucked a tissue from the box, and then another. You looked down at the glass of water still in your hands, for whatever shred of privacy it would offer him as he loudly blew his nose. Soiled, he tossed the tissues into the wastebasket nearby. At this rate, and with the way that had sounded, you had a feeling that the bin would be full of them by the end of the day.

“Thanks,” Zayne said in a thick voice as he took the water from you next. He made quick work of it, and you mentally patted yourself on the back for thinking of his needs before he had even voiced them. 

You checked that the fireplace was still lively, and then you turned back to Zayne where you stood before him.

“Can I get you something else?”

Zayne looked at you with warm eyes. “I don't know… I’d just really like my blanket back.” You frowned, only to falter when Zayne winked at you. Duh.

You needed no other prompting to crawl back into your original position, settling yourself over Zayne like a large lap cat, or a blanket, as he had put it. A new sense of ease washed over the two of you. 

You turned your head where it was more comfortable on its side. Snow still billowed past outside, and you found yourself reflecting again on why you were both here. Although there would be much to do later today, or more likely tomorrow, when the snow had slowed, you could both have this moment. You didn't get to lay and nap together at home nearly as often as either of you liked, but right now, you were free to indulge in it. 

You had each other's comfort. And you had each other's warmth.

“Ya know, maybe what you said yesterday was right,” you suddenly spoke.

“Hm?” Zayne opened one eye, brow raised.

“About the treasure being something warm within winter, or however you put it.” Your limbs twitched, and you curled a little tighter into Zayne. “Maybe it's cheesy, but I feel like we have our own little treasure here, ya know?”

Zayne exhaled a laugh, but it was genuine. “Perhaps you're right.” He closed his eyes, and through a yawn, “We had to find our own little treasure before we could find one for the whole village.”

“Exactly.” You smiled, closing your own eyes. Your ears zoned in on the cracking and popping of the fireplace, coupled with Zayne’s soft breathing. 

Flashbacks of the cozy night prior crept into your mind. “Can you tell me the rest of that story from last night?” Your words were slurred by almost-sleep. Zayne only responded with a soft snore. 

Ah well, you thought. Another day, then; this treasure was treasure enough. 

[patfr8]

I will be completely honest, I will never understand why some people ship extremely toxic ships (one sided toxicity I mean)

Like, that dude only wanted your status and poisoned your body and mind, even joining your worst enemy’s side just to get luxury and ignore all the poor he could help by almost killing you, and YOU WANT ME TO BELIEVE THAT THEY LOVE EACH OTHER????? Hell nah, get that shit away from me. I like my ships with some flavour, but not this poison (I only allow poison from both sides, they both must be fucked up, and usually I only like it if it’s an au where they are fucked up)

[r26yz]

swan lake

[flowerflamestars]

Effloresce snippet

Trails radiated outward, tidal waves of long-ago receding water streaking pale across the forest floor until they bled together. One perfect ring outside another, eight trees caught in continual pink bloom, sheltering a salt-encrusted clearing. As though a whole sea had died, dried to nothing but salt and shore, here in a circle on the edge of ancient woodland. Here, over the grave. Nesta paced around where stone had been placed in the ground once, twice, desired speed visibly stymied by both her own wounded leg and Lucien, taking what were, for him, minuscule steps as he helped her remain upright. His gaze was a weight on Elain’s face, warm, but she found it hard to tear her eyes away. Set in salt, ringed round in cedar, eight points of silver-mottled alabaster stone made a star. At its center, laid clear, a single chiseled word: ARCHERON. Elain sank down to touch it, stone unnaturally smooth. Cold, as the misty night they’d passed in panic, waiting for more survivors, watching as the bodies were brought. How perfect, Elain thought, a compass for a grave. An Archeron knew always, where they were in the world, if only they could find the stars. “Something fae died here,” Lucien had been quiet since they’d left Velaris. Exhausted. “Something old.” Nesta sucked in a scathing breath. “Grandmother was human. So far as anyone believed.” A look up, in time to catch Lucien try to carefully pivot, to see Nesta shove him, to stand for a second alone, white-faced. Lucien sank down on his haunches, across from Elain. Dragged one long-fingered hand, surreally alive, through clumping sea salt, before pressing hard, palm down. Whatever the tree-roots told puckered his brow, gold eyes glinting bonfire bright in the dawn. “Two bodies.” Nesta looked at Elain. Elain wanted to stand, to go to her. To rise and run and- to stay right here on the ground until her weight sank into salt, until she was one with the soil, deep enough to demand answers from her ancestors bones. “She didn’t die at home.” Shore cedar, salt cedar, tamarisk- eight mortal trees blooming eternal in faerie to mark a human merchant. A human, and someone else. “She made another home,” Elain told her sister, brushing salt from her dress as she moved, stepping over the grave.

“She got out,” Nesta echoed, half hollow. She wasn’t shy about leaning on Elain, a fact that filled her with eye-stinging gratefulness. Nesta, her sharp familiar shoulder digging in, curious expression not enough to lighten the tense, tight lines around her bloodshot eyes, her worry-bitten mouth. Nesta, dehydrated and poisoned and perfectly herself, alive. “She wasn’t alone.”

[coquelicoq]

too bad this book three people recommended to me was just. not good. hate it when that happens.

[adriartts]

some griffons

[sp-growingpains]

I see God's plan, but does he see mine?!

I plan on turning that Jessica Rabbit/Roger Rabbit doodle into a little comic.

Also, if you think you've seen that Kyle design before, you have. You ever see your friends design for a character, and you just wanna -

Aaaaaanyway! Enjoy these doodles.

[warpedpuppeteer]

Isabel Diaz looking at Madney exchanging vows and telling Eddie "I hope you get your happy ending like this too Eddieto" and Eddie either getting interrupted by Buck coming over to tell him something or he ducks his head with his eyes soft and the camera pans to or focuses on Buck in the background instead.

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads

The Spider And Her Demons

YA Australian urban fantasy/horror

about a Malaysian-Chinese girl who’s half spider-demon, just trying to keep her head down and survive high school

when she accidentally kills and eats a man in front of the most popular girl at school, they strike up a strange friendship and she starts to learn more about herself and the supernatural world

aroacespec/sapphic ish