#LAD WHY

[aspideronmywall]

YOU! You who is determined to like everything I've posted..........why?

[egophiliac]

queen of diamonds, upright + reversed 💎

I've redone this like eighty times, I have to just be done with it now and stop staring at all my mistakes oh no 🫠

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Flower Empowered.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[eydi-andrius]

AT NIGHT? MISTER? SYLUS?

[teaboot]

To be clear, while I DO spoil my beautiful and handsome cat son,I don't mean that I spoil him in a chew-my-shoes, overfeed-him, give-him-people-food, wander-off-leash kind of way.

I spoil him like a well-to-do businessman would spoil his one and only firstborn son with a sugar lolly during Sunday promenade at the pier, where he might traipse about in his little sailor suit and watch the boats go by.

[kingkatsuki]

Do your blorbos ever look at each other inside your blorbo mansion and wonder “what the fuck is that guy doing here?”

[noodles-and-tea]

i love your modern merthur art so i have to ask, what do you think Arthur’s favorite and least favorite thing about the 21st century would be if when he’s revived?

I think (once he gets used to it) Arthur would really appreciate technology and playing easier Nintendo games (especially if Merlin can play with (for) him)

I think he’d also like binging tv or movie series and comfy clothes (he lives in sweats) and taking very long, hot showers (figures)

As for his least favourite things I think he would occasionally get homesick, less as he grows accustomed to his new life but he would definitely miss his friends and the knights and Gwen.

:(

[windser]

hear me out nerds, falling back into my unhinged despair about sylus—

he has the BIGGEST praise kink but listen its not obvious because as the leader of an illegal organization, he hears a lot of noise (most of it bs from his followers, plenty of news never hitting the mark, and god if he hears one more of UNICORNS complaints he might really give them someone to complain about) but the point is he hears a lot. yes, some of it strokes his ego. he knows he's powerful, he knows not many people could take him (in a fight), he knows he's untouchable

and then you literally touch him, and suddenly he doesnt know

and it starts off as the lightest touch when he steps too close and you press him back with the flat of your hand. he allowed it out of humor and now jokes on him, he's pushing back just to hold onto the warmth

the praise comes as a result of you just not acknowledging his feats properly?? like everything from your mouth sounds like an afterthought? a shallow acknowledgement? like 'yes, you could probably pin me. do you want a star for it?' and this dumb big man for the first time is like 'yeah, maybe i want a star for that?' like thats the first spark where he viscerally needs that approval from you, like, yes i could pin you so good if you just asked

and it literally just spirals from that. we know the man can cook, and seemingly well if he can causally take over the work of an absent cook. but he basically throws his whole menu to the side and wants to know alllll about what you like to eat. pasta? let him know what obscure, distant village in the mountains that has this very particular taste because of a native spice... he will master is just to hear that little hum of satisfaction from your lips. you know he asks ;is it good?' and this sad sack doesn't even need a verbal 'yes' just nod and he's already scheduling that dish into his routine for you

and oof in bed? this man has learned how to read every signal and reaction from you. he watches your gaze for permission when to touch, listens to your moans for where. he HAS to get it right EVERYTIME just so he can hear 'yes, sylus, like that' 'you feel so good sylus' or his absolute favorite that triggers his explosion every time 'good boy, sylus' and when you yank on his collar ???? pls he'll roll over and sit for you in like 100 different positions

[thatapostateboy]

Davrin being trusted to raise one of the first baby griffons in centuries and giving him an Elven name

Davrin training him using Elven phrases

Davrin chiding him the way his Keeper would when he acts up but never fails to smile at him

Davrin sharing his rations with him at camp, ignoring Rook’s knowing looks

Davrin sensing Darkspawn nearing and knowing that it’s too soon, his friend is too young, too small

Davrin staring down the Archdemon, accepting the sacrifice he must make, and desperately telling him to stay behind in every language he can muster

Davrin hearing the mournful cry of his most beloved companion as he plunges his sword into the Archdemon’s heart

Assan, years later and fully grown, accepting no rider, but on occasion taking comfort in the embrace and kind familiar words of Rook, who had loved him too

[frapajapa]

[miodiodavinci]

My standing artwork for ZOLA V6 has been released!!

In a twist that feels like a dream turned reality, I received the opportunity to create official artwork for the ZOLAs!! You can download the full artwork alongside more than 30 alternate expressions from the ZOLAs character page on the SoundUD website. Please be sure to check it out!!

Also, once again, a massive thanks to @ricedeity for their input on the designs!! I'll reblog this post shortly with a copy of our behind-the-scenes design tour w

[starmocha]

Love and Deepspace + Tumblr Text Post ↳ Zayne, Part 2

[copia]

endless ghifs 6/? ⛧ source — "So if you meet me, have some courtesy; have some sympathy, and some taste!"

[vero-niche]

when you tell your therapist something from your past and it leaves them speechless

[fuckyeahchinesefashion]

first-person perspective tour of love&deepspace exhibition at shanghai bw2024 comic-con part 4

players interact with sylus, rafayel, xavier, zayne

[revasserium]

waiting for winter (我期待的不是雪)

zayne; 1,616 words; fluff, pining, gn!reader, no "y/n", spoilers for lads ch.4, whipped!zayne

summary: he has never loved the winter

a/n: yes, this was inspired by that one chinese tiktok song. no, i will not elaborate.

He has never loved the winter.

But he remembers the first time he watched the snow fall reflected in your eyes — your cheeks kissed pink by the unforgiving wind, the sky a smear of white as the cold sunk into his bones. He remembers the silver bell ring of your laughter as you’d dragged him by the hand out to build a snowman, the look on your face when he’d remarked that your snowman’s nose was crooked because there were no carrots at the corner store so you’d had to make do with a potato instead.

“Look! It’s snowing!”

Zayne shakes himself into the present, glancing out of his office window at the cotton-soft flurries spinning by his windows. Across from him, you’re sitting with a muffler thrown haphazardly around your shoulders, watching the snow with an open, child-like wonder that makes his entire chest twist tight with —

He clears his throat.

“All the more reason for you to be careful — make sure to bundle up when you go outside,” he says, dropping his eyes back to your most recent health report.

You’re not sleeping enough, and your vitamin D levels are lower than he’d like. He’d hoped that becoming a Hunter would at least expose you to a decent amount of sun but then again, you had told him that Jenna’s been keeping tight reigns on you since the explosion.

“Yeah, yeah — I’ll be careful.”

He looks up, his eyes dark as he looks over the shape of you, fingers curled in your lap as you look up at him from beneath your lashes. He holds your gaze and fights to keep his expression neutral as you blush and look away, somehow reverting back to a much younger version of you — the memory of it superimposed upon the look of you now.

“You’re just as bossy as you were back then,” you say, sighing as you shrug up your shoulders like a scolded child.

Zayne scoffs, affording himself a small laugh, “Except I have a doctorate to back it up now, don’t I?”

You pout, pursing your lips. Zayne wonders, for the millionth time that day, how soft they might be beneath his own.

“I liked you better before you got your fancy creds,” you say, still pouting.

Zayne sighs, flicking off his tablet and putting it down on the table.

“Alright, what do you want?”

You blink up at him, eyes wide enough to convince anyone else of your innocence. But he knows better. He’s always known better.

“What do you mean?”

He ticks his tongue against his teeth and leans back in his chair, checking his watch.

“It’s almost lunchtime — c’mon.”

He pushes up from his desk and tugs his doctor’s coat from his shoulders, rolling them loose of the tightness that had gathered there all morning.

“Huh?”

He rounds his desk and tugs his winter coat from the back of the door, turning to fix you with a look.

“The noodle shop around the corner has your favorite as a lunch special.”

He counts down from five in his head — four, three, two —

“Really?” your face breaks into a grin wide enough to split your face. He chuckles.

“Yes, really. Are you coming?”

You stare for a second longer before leaping to your feet and bounding to his side. He reaches out to adjust your muffler, tying it tighter over the front of your chest, swatting your hand away when you try to loosen it.

“I’m going to choke!”

“Better that than for you to get sick again.”

He tugs open the door and watches you walk into the hallway, a bounce to your step that he hasn’t seen since you were both kids and he’d promised you he’d buy you sweets on the way home from school.

“How’re you so sure that the lunch specials gonna be my favorite?” you ask, pivoting on your heels and fixing him with a look, halfway down the white-washed hospital halls. Zayne takes his time buttoning up his own coat and locking his office door behind him.

“Because,” he says, voice steady as he strolls by you, glancing down with the shadow of a smile crimping his lips —

“I know you.”

* * *

He has never loved the winter.

But, he thinks as he watches you slurp down a bowl of wide-cut noodles, your cheeks flushed red with joy, he might just learn to love a winter like this.

You don’t question it when he reaches out to swipe at the corner of your mouth with this thumb, licking off the excess with a contemplative hm. But he revels in the way you swallow and blush and look away.

He wonders if you know.

He wonders if you know that you haunt him like the cold haunts him on the nights when he’s alone. He wonders if you see him the way he sees you, cast behind his eyelids like the frames of an old film whenever he closes his eyes, your smile more familiar to him than his own.

“Full?” he asks, watching as you wipe your mouth on a bit of napkin, lips stained red by the chili sauce.

“Mhm!” you nod, smiling up at him.

The noodle shop smells of chicken stock and green onions and the sharp dampness of snow on winter coats. You push the noodle bowl away and stare down at your hands.

“Are you — I mean… you have to go back to work, right?”

He can’t help but notice the note of reluctance in your voice, the way you look up at him as if hoping he’ll say no. He nods, folding his napkin into halves, and then forths. Outside, the sun is already falling toward the far horizon, casting everything in a goldenrod glow. Shadows fall long and sure along the pavement and Zayne doesn’t want to think about the endless hours of darkness ahead.

“Are you going home after this?” he asks, nodding stiffly to the waiter as he hands over his card, wordlessly pushing your hand away as you make a feeble attempt to try and snatch the receipt.

“I… was thinking about going to see a movie,” you say, thumbing at a stray thread along the edge of your coat. He watches you tug at it for a while before reaching out to take your hand in his.

“Go home,” he says, his voice level.

Your brow creases in a slight frown as you look up.

“But… I wanted to see —”

“We’ll see it this weekend,” he says, giving your hand a quick squeeze before letting go, thanking the waiter as he takes back his card and scribbles his signature on the receipt.

“We will?” you ask, blinking up at him as he stands up.

“Yes. It’s showing Saturday at 2:30 — we can get lunch before, or dinner after.”

He’s tugging on his coat when you reach up to loop his scarf around his neck, standing too close, so close he can smell the caramel milk and whipped cream of your skin. He fights down the shivers that threaten to shake down his spine as he goes still, waiting as you tuck his scarf securely around his neck.

“You never tie your scarf right,” you say, dropping back down onto your heels even as you shoulder on your own coat, cheeks dusted the most darling shade of pink Zayne has ever seen. As he watches you, he thinks it might just put the winter sun to shame.

He thinks he might thank you, or he might just bend down and kiss you — he’s uncertain all the way till you make it outside and you turn to smile up at him. And like this, with the dying sun caressing the edge of your cheek, the line of your jaw, you are nothing short of ethereal.

Zayne reaches forward, his thumb and forefinger catching your chin as he leans down.

Your gasp is little more than a hiccup of breath —

“Don’t be late,” he says, stopping mere inches from your lips, whispering the words against where your lips might be if he were a little more daring.

You hold perfectly still, your eyes round as you stare up at him, searching his face for… something — anything.

When he pulls back, he thinks you almost make to chase him. But you let his fingers drop from your skin and you tug at your muffler, toeing at the slushed-up snow on the sidewalk.

“Winter’s my favorite season, y’know,” you say. And Zayne doesn’t dare to hope. But he does — he watches you out of the corner of his eyes. Above you, all around you, the afternoon sun flickers and fades, a daytime aurora, like tendrils of some long-gone magic, coaxing willing believers toward their untimely doom.

“Hn,” he says, not trusting himself with more. He waits; you take a long breath before turning to look at him.

“You wanna know why?” you ask. And finally, finally he turns to you, his eyes catching your eyes — and in them, he sees the twisting colors of the sky reflected there, serpentine and sinuous. Ancient and inexorable. Reds and yellows, pinks and purples, bleeding into an endless, endless winter blue.

He wets his lips and swallows hard, “Why?”

You smile, and it is like the first glimmer of sun after an arctic winter’s night, and he can’t breathe for the sight of it.

“Because… it reminds me of you.”

lads requests r.... open lol