#w: zane

[iyla-devar]

Fangs & Fury || Iyla & Zane

TIMING: April 14, Iyla’s Birthday Party LOCATION: Iyla’s Home/Shimmering Sky Ba PARTIES: Iyla @iyla-devar & Zane @rn-zane SUMMARY: Zane offers himself to be Iyla's date to her birthday party CONTENT WARNINGS: alcohol, blood mentions

So apparently, regular people did live in giant houses like this and that wasn’t just something from movies. Zane had checked the provided address three times before finally daring to walk up the driveway, readjusting the lapel of his maroon blazer for the umpteenth time this evening. It didn’t quite fit right anymore, the sleeves a bit too short for his arms now, seams a bit tight around his shoulders. It was either that or an old jean jacket, which coupled with his least fabric pilled black T shirt, didn’t really scream cocktail. Or so he assumed. 

This is what he got for not saying no, not even to strangers on the internet. Well, a stranger whose name he did know now. Iyla Devar, the owner of the intimidating house he was walking up to, the host of tonight’s party and someone who was apparently loaning him a tie. This could have been so easily avoided by some white lie about working tonight but perhaps, some small part of him was curious. 

He hadn’t been to a party in… well, a while, and the fact that Iyla was so happy to invite strangers either meant she was hoping to make new friends or didn’t have many people to invite. Zane could relate to both so he soldiered on, fixing the gifts in his hands before politely knocking on the door. He had no clue whether the ribbon decorated bottle of wine was any good, seeing as he had zero experience in that department, but it had been one of the more reasonably prized bottles in the fancier shelves so fingers crossed. The box of chocolate had been grabbed as an afterthought because everyone like chocolate… right?

Feeling like he was picking someone up for prom (probably, he hadn’t gone to any of his) as he waited for the door to open, Zane took one last glance up at the giant expanse of the house. Hoping Iyla didn’t live here on her own, thinking it would probably get lonely in a giant house all by themselves. Lost in thought as the door swung open, he startled, holding out the wine and chocolates almost like a peace offering. “Hi, uhm… Zane. Happy belated birthday?”

Iyla didn’t know how to feel. She’d missed her usual week (or let’s be real, month) -long of birthday events. None of her friends had so much as texted about it, let alone thrown something together for her. And to top it off, half the fucking town had their birthday this week. It was gearing up to be the worst birthday since the one immediately following her death.

But that wasn’t going to stop Iyla from having the time of her unlife. She wasn’t one to sit around and mope, she hadn’t been like that in decades. Moping didn’t bring you back to life, didn’t bring you the one person you truly cared for, didn’t bring the heads of those responsible on a platter. No, your own action did those things. They also brought complete strangers to her very nice home on World’s End Isle. 

Iyla had selected a number of fine ties, ties she’d foreseen giving to Tomas whenever she found him. The fury hadn’t anticipated it taking quite this long, but he wouldn’t mind her lending them to an altruistic nurse. Slinging about five or so ties over the back of a plush armchair in her formal living room, Iyla went to answer the knock on the antique heart pine door, her heels a crisp staccato on the hardwood. 

The door swung open, revealing Iyla in a Mochino gold and black embroidered bustier top with a flowing black satin skirt, her hair slicked back, hinting at the styles she used to wear in the 20s. Diamonds trailed from her earlobes and dark, smokey makeup surrounded eyes that now raked over the nurse in front of her. She smiled as he thrust out his offering, making no move to take it herself. “Oh, Zane, thank you so much. This means the world. Won’t you come in? I’ve laid out a few options for you just there,” the fury gestured to the armchair. 

Zane’s carefully plastered on smile faltered for a second as he was ushered inside, gifts outstretched for a moment too long before accepting the invitation to come in. It still felt odd, the feeling of gentle force making sure he didn’t cross a threshold to a home subsiding with an invitation but everything about his current situation was odd enough to make that part low on his list of priorities to think about. Wondering if Iyla had spotted the wine label and immediately recognized it as something she hated, Zane wandered into the large living room, feeling like he should be taking his shoes off as to not disturb the immaculate set up. 

Feeling that the best option was to go with the person that was clearly comfortable with this whole situation, Zane stepped up to the armchair and carefully put the presents on the plush seat. The ties all looked nice and he had no idea if it made a difference which one he chose to go with the jacket and very scuffed up dress shoes from another of the vampires. So he stalled, turning back to Iyla while tugging at his blazer sleeves for lack of something better to do with his now free hands. “You look really nice,” he offered, gaze focused on her stunning eyeshadow and light catching earrings. The bustier top was sure to get her attention tonight but the rest of the outfit he had no idea on - she definitely looked eye catching but he wasn’t one to judge on the whims of straight men. “Definitely a birthday outfit that demands attention. 

Clearing his throat, still working through the overwhelming sensation of being in a house this nice, Zane continued talking because how else would he quiet his thoughts trying to trample over one another. “Hope this,” he gestured lamely to the blazer and dark jeans, “makes the cut. I haven’t owned a suit since I graduated high school.”

Iyla was no stranger to people being awestruck around her. Her clothing, her accessories, her homes, her face, it all brought forth a sense of unease from people she was around. Usually due to their uncontrollable envy, but it was all the same to her. The man hovered in her doorway for so long Iyla wondered if he’d been stuck there, doomed to awkwardly enter a nice home for eternity. 

Iyla glanced quickly down at the gifts he’d brought along, wondering if the closest Tiffany’s had been too far of a drive. The wine seemed reasonably priced for a Bevmo. She’d regift that one for sure. Perhaps to that other birthday woman with the child who wanted her to have happy hour to celebrate. She scoffed to herself at the thought. 

“Oh, this old thing?” Iyla feigned modesty, giving a quick twirl to show off the gown that may as well have been sewn together just for her. “I didn’t have time to go shopping for something new, so I supposed it has to do.” Of his own ensemble, however, the same could not be said. Iyla’s eyes narrowed at his jacket with too short arms, his scuffed shoes, as if she were solving a puzzle that didn’t ask to be solved. “Hmmm, I actually think I might have something for you! One moment -” Her heels clacked away to one of the many coat closets, this one specifically overflowing with coats and jackets she’d “borrowed” from ex lovers or Alan. Plucking out a deep navy number, she returned and immediately set about removing his old blazer. 

“Lucky for you, I’m a fashionista of all kinds. And I tend to have an eye for sizes…Aha!” Iyla stepped back from her human dress up doll, beaming. “Amazing what a simple coat change can do!” She crossed her arms. “Now I don’t believe I have shoes in your size, but no one will be watching your feet when the rest of you looks so good!” Or when she was stealing the limelight. 

“Why don’t you own a suit? Everyone needs one, at least one.” Iyla turned to touch up her lipstick in the mirror. “You can keep that, by the way. For the next situation where you need a fitting coat.” 

Zane was resisting the urge to squirm under the heavy gaze currently raking over his clothes, feeling overly scrutinized. Any attempt to object to more generosity from the woman died on his lips as Iyla was already storming off, continuing to demand control of the situation with the simple act of her heels clicking. The navy jacket she returned with did look nice, definitely nicer than what he was wearing. Again, his words didn’t manage to leave his mouth, the ‘thank you’ you going silent when swift hands were pulling at his blazer. 

Trying to keep up with the rapid movements, turning this way and that to allow himself to… well, be dressed in the jacket by this still-stranger, Zane almost could have laughed at the absurdity that the first person to ever remove his clothes like this was a woman. A very beautiful woman, sure, but not quite his type. It was over quickly, his old blazer discarded and the new one - as promised - fitting snugly. 

Iyla looked happy and well, if choosing some stranger’s outfit gave her this much joy then Zane wasn’t going to ruin that moment. Especially not on her birthday. “Very lucky,” he finally agreed, hands brushing over the fabric. It felt nice, probably more expensive than the whole of his closet combined. “And you’re definitely good with sizes.” A genuine smile finally found its way onto his lips.  Moving closer to the mirror when she did, Zane watched the woman deftly apply her lipstick, feeling a note of envy for magic of makeup. 

“I don’t know, there’s never been an occasion for me to need a suit in the last years. At least none that I’ve attended. Going solo gets a bit much after a while, anyway.” Zane slid his hands into the pockets, somehow even softer than the outside material, and smiled gratefully at Iyla’s reflection. “Thank you. I’ll try to get myself into more situations fitting of such a nice coat.”

If Zane was uncomfortable with her dressing him, Iyla paid him no mind. It wasn’t the first time she’d dressed a man and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. So hopeless, the lot of them. She stood back, admiring her work in the reflection. Just the simple change out of a blazer and the entire ensemble worked. It wasn’t perfect, the scuffed shoes, the wrinkled shirt, the slightly too short pants, but the fury wasn’t sure she had the time or permission to rip off Zane’s pants. 

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Iyla murmured, realizing she’d been so focused on the suit she never even bothered to realize there was no face above said jacket, not in the mirror at least. Interesting. Her eyes flickered back to the real person beside her, her gaze now more scrupulous than ever. 

“No occasions?” Not even a funeral suit? Iyla thought. “There’s always an occasion, even more so if you’re going solo. You never know when there’s someone out there to impress.” Suddenly this interaction seemed more interesting than her party, which was saying something. “If you ever need a date to a function, I will almost never say no,” she offered, knowing damn well if the event wasn’t up to her standards she would 100% say no. “Or does your work keep you from attending?” Or your non-reflection? 

Fine, there had been occasions. Staff parties, hospital galas, birthdays. Going solo meant more than just showing up without a date, though. It was quite literal, showing up alone and shuffling around people he knew from work while they talked about their personal lives, which were complete mysteries to him. Zane knew a lot of it was his fault, a combination of lack of trying and anxiety that he wouldn’t fit in even if he did. It always seemed better to not go. 

“I’m pretty rusty in the impressing department too. If my total lack of date clothing didn’t give it away,” he joked, turning away from his host to have another look at the ties. Now that he had an actual, nice piece of clothing on, the task of choosing seemed a bit less daunting. Zane settled on a nice blue one, a lighter color than the jacket he’d been given, a distant memory of someone mentioning that blue highlighted his eyes rearing its head. “Work. General lack of social standing. The fact that I don’t drink,” he rattled off, turning back to Iyla with the tie hanging limp around his neck. He wasn’t even going to attempt to make the knot and even if he had, something told him the fashion-forward woman would have fixed it afterwards, anyway. 

“And that’s a really nice offer but if I were trying to… impress someone, bringing you might give the wrong impression.” It felt nice to get it out there, to prevent any fumbled comment of his from being taken as flirting. “Aside from the fact that you’re way out of my league, you’re also on the wrong… team?” It was hesitant, a part of him still always expecting push back to the realization. The smile that followed was hopeful in a way. Iyla was… strange. But definitely not boring and underneath the glamorous house and general disregard for most things, there was a hint of something nice. At least Zane wanted to believe that, feeling his new gift on his shoulders as a reminder. 

Iyla stepped over to the array of gifts the reflectionless man had brought over. She attempted to hide her wrinkled nose at the wine’s brand, bringing it over to her silver bar cart anyway. It was the thought that counted, right? At least it was wine that might get him talking more. Did he know he was dead, like her? Did he even know there was no one looking back at him when he smiled at himself in the mirror? Iyla knew better than most how hard that transition was, from life to life after death. Her own stubbornness had made her what she was, and Iyla doubted that her relatively slow acceptance to her new fate had helped anything in that department. 

“Well practice makes perfect, you know.” Iyla popped the cork with ease, setting the bottle down to let it breathe while she selected two crystal glasses, her hand pausing as he said he didn’t drink. “Ah, so a little less fun, but no less in need of socialization.” She put one of the glasses back and poured herself a hearty cupful. “I have tonic or sparkling water?” Iyla offered, ever the hostess, her fingers already reaching for a rocks glass that had seen World War 2. 

Iyla nodded, a sly smile winding onto her face. “Ahhh, there it is. Is someone not comfortable in their own skin? Is that why you don’t go out to parties?” The fury had plenty of friends, many of them all over the spectrum. She, herself, didn’t like to be tied down to one gender. Perhaps being undead wasn’t his only hangup regarding hang outs. 

Iyla would have blushed had blood still moved within her. She was always a sucker for compliments. “What a shame,” she purred, setting her wineglass down as she set about preparing the tie he selected. “For someone who claims not to be fashionable or wear suits, you have good taste.” She was, of course, referring to her being out of his league as well as the tie he chose. “This one brings out your eyes.”

It was definitely a change, the instant acceptance of him not drinking. The excuses had already started forming on his lips when the cork was popped but died just as quickly. If anything, it made his stance on the whole thing completely flip, eyeing the now full glass with curiosity. It wasn’t like Zane was staying sober for a reason, more so a force of habit and general distaste for the bitterness or sting of all alcohol. “I should at least try it since I brought it.”

Not that thought out but this whole evening felt very spur of the moment, anyway. Zane was wearing someone else’s clothes, in a house that made him feel a little bit like a movie star and there was something about the woman that felt slightly dangerous but not in the life threatening way. Wasn’t alcohol supposed to be a bit of an anxiolytic, anyway? 

The questions that followed were slightly condescending in nature but they didn’t quite hit the spot of making him want to recoil like when the other members of the clan called him ‘the freshman’. It felt more teasing but not quite judgemental. More so just… the way Iyla seemed to be, from what little he was starting to learn about the woman. “I guess,” Zane admitted, chin tilting up as she worked on the tie. “Even though male nurse usually makes people assume correctly.” The smell of her perfume wafted into his nose, the scent nice. Classy. Fitting for the woman currently complimenting him, making him fluster and feel grateful for his inability to blush. 

“Thanks,” he stuttered out, nervous hands running over the perfect knot of the tie. His smile was lopsided as Zane reached for the glass she’d poured him after the rash decision made earlier, delving deeper into the unthought out plan as he took a sip. He’d never had wine before and would now never know how it was supposed to taste, but the faint sweetness and irony aftertaste was definitely… pleasant. Clearing his throat, he glanced over at the clock hanging on the wall. “We should get going, right? Guest of honor and everything.”

Iyla’s fingers lingered on the man’s tie, the whole impromptu evening feeling so familiar. She used to flirt and dress all her friends, men, women, gay, straight and everything in between. Of course, back in her prime things were much less accepted, but no less common. Her soirees were the talk of the town not only because they were lavish and second to none, but also because they were accepting. 

“Ugh, you’d think we would have outgrown the idea that nurses and handmaids are meant to be feminine and weak, as if you don’t do more than half the doctors where you work, am I correct?” Iyla’s nose wrinkled, this time from the misogynistic way the world worked. Even in the 20s and 30s, Iyla never liked to succumb to the female stereotypes laid out before her. Socialite, sure. Kept housewife? Never.

Iyla sighed, downing the rest of her wine like a shot - it honestly tasted better that way - and snatched her purse off the coat rack. She glanced at Zane out of the corner of her eye, watching how he sipped at the wine he said he didn’t drink. Vaguely, she hoped she hadn’t helped him break some important act of sobriety, but the thought was quickly banished. What would it matter to her if he had? So long as he didn’t ruin the party. In fact, Iyla hoped he might loosen up a bit, maybe even dance with a cute boy or two. She smiled and snaked her arm through his. 

“You’re right, we should be off.” Iyla nodded down at the glass in his hand. “If you enjoyed that, I have a bottle of Cristal in the car you can try. It’s vintage.” She wondered if he was as well, or if his undeath was shiny and new. “Now, let’s go make an entrance.”

The sensible part of his brain knew that one didn’t get drunk from two sips of wine, no matter their experience with alcohol. Even so, that was the feeling Zane had as the glamorous lady of the house led him outside to a sleek and shiny car, where the doors were opened for them by an elderly gentleman who addressed him as ‘sir.’ Not in the annoyed way that patients sometimes did when they were tired of waiting, calling it at his back as he tried to do five things at a time. No, it was respect. Granted, respect that radiated of Iyla and clearly seemed to affect everyone in her vicinity but the feeling was definitely a rush. 

Cristal - a quite fancy champagne, Zane learned - was nice. It didn’t taste like much to his very picky tastebuds but the bubbles made it very pleasant to drink and toasting with Iyla in the back of a freaking town car was making it easy to pretend he was someone else for a moment. Someone who drank champagne, went to parties and knew most of the people there, was greeted by everyone he walked up to. The feeling of being that person overwhelmed whatever sense he usually claimed he had and the bottle was empty by the time they reached Iyla’s party. Who had drank more, Zane wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t really feeling anything so it was fine. 

Just like when they’d left the house, Zane offered his arm to Iyla when she stepped out the car, finding himself to fit quite nicely into this role. With the way his companion looked, no one would really take notice of the pitfalls in his current outfit. If just for tonight, he could totally be chill and not overthink everything. The decorations inside were nice, the people dressed even nicer and it overwhelmed him for a second as he tried to remember the last time he’d been to an event. Despite the lack of practice, Zane had watched enough TV to know the next part his current role demanded of him. “Get you a drink?” he asked Iyla, already scanning the place for the bar. 

Towncars and limos were so commonplace for Iyla, she’d forgotten the wonder they had over people. Feeling like a rockstar, feeling glamorous even if it was only by association, Iyla was always the provider of these feelings, and while in the past it made for shallow friendships, she never minded. Not to mention, Zane seemed much different from the twittering girls who usually clung to her sequined skirts and leather seats. Leonard drove them in style while Zane tried his first Cristal, not an event he was sure to forget. Even if the popular stuff didn’t taste all that much better than a Dom Perignon, the experience was one to remember. 

Iyla, impressed with Zane’s manners as they exited the car, felt on top of the world. This was her playground, her native surroundings. A party, all for her. Not for all those other birthdays, just her, even if a few of them swung by for a drink. She took his arm, proud to be dangling from the altruistic and now well dressed Mr. Invisible Reflection, ready to begin the night’s festivities in earnest. 

“Thank you, such a gentleman,” Iyla purred, intent on not fidgeting over the misplaced centerpieces or lack of ice sculpture she’d ordered last minute. How hard was it to carve an ice dancer in less than five hours? “I’ll take a vodka gimlet, make sure they use Rose’s Lime Juice.” Her eyes were already roaming over the crowd, a bit light for her taste, but it was still early enough. For a moment, she had a flash of that disastrous night, flames licking up the curtains, Tomas’ face disappearing behind a wall of fire. 

Iyla cleared her throat and smiled. “I’ll just be a moment, have to make the rounds of course. Come and find me when you get those drinks, doll.” 

Something flashed in Iyla’s eyes, barely visible in the room’s faint glow but it was there. Only for a second, her previous persona returning almost instantly. Zane wondered if she was worried about the party, wanting it to go well, but he didn’t ask. She was already moving on to other thoughts, whatever the fleeting one had been about, it was dismissed, and Zane decided to let her. His self assigned job tonight was making sure Iyla enjoyed her birthday. She probably didn’t need any help with that but as of right now, she was the only person he knew here, however little he did know. 

Her drink was ordered with utmost care, the bartender giving a pleased nod at Zane when he made the special request. As if he knew anything about what he’d just ordered. The order was made for two drinks, if only so he had something to hold onto and better blend into the crowd, and then the mission of finding Iyla began. People were chatting happily all around, sipping various drinks and seeming to be having a generally good time. A brief thought, wondering just how many of these people Iyla actually knew. As he stood, thankful for the extra height in allowing him to better survey the crowd in the hopes of finding Iyla, a woman approached. She seemed tipsy but friendly. 

“Ah, who’s the lucky lady getting a drink delivery?” she asked, hand unnecessarily running over his upper arm. The first thought was that he didn’t have a lucky lady but, in the weird twist of events that this evening was, Zane was indeed delivering drinks to a lady. Looking around for said lady, with no luck, he smiled sheepishly. “The host actually. I was on my way to find her, so-” His sentence was caught short as the woman scoffed, grabbing one of the drinks from his hand with not so much as a hint of hesitation. “Iyla? Why bother with her. Honestly.” Zane shifted uncomfortably, making one last attempt at spotting the woman currently being trash talked by this stranger. 

This was Iyla’s element. Drinks flowing, music pumping, people dressed to the nines, all for her. This town wasn’t the most happening in the country, nor was it the highest class, but the Sky Bar offered at least a modicum of quality. She stopped chatting for just a moment, gazing out over the peaks, a faint glow emanating from behind the mountains. It was almost magical.

Iyla’s magic wasn’t beautiful like that. Sometimes it could be, but it was tinged with something darker, something bitter. Revenge may be sweet, and it certainly tasted that way to the fury, but it could be hollow too. Especially when it wasn’t her own. Coming back to the party at hand and wondering what was taking Zane so long, Iyla smiled and excused herself from a banal conversation, just in time to hear her name. Her name accompanied by the words ‘why bother with her’. 

Fury rose within her, not an uncommon feeling but one she hadn’t thought her party would induce. Iyla stomped in Zane’s direction, her attention on the drunk woman beside him, the woman holding her drink and tarnishing her name. “Funny, I was about to say the same about you,” Iyla snarled, crossing her arms over her sequined bodice. “Apologies, but I don’t remember stating ‘Messy drunk bitches’ on the invitation.” Power rolled off her, and even though she couldn’t do anything with it, not until someone asked her to, Iyla knew it was felt. She might not be able to use her magic, but she could still use one thing. 

Iyla slapped the drink upward so quickly the vodka missed the woman’s face entirely, though the martini glass didn’t. Shards of glass sprinkled her cakey foundation, small droplets of blood blossoming while fresh tears started. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I’m so clumsy sometimes!” Iyla feigned innocence, snapping for a waitress to come and call a med kit. “Here, Iris will get you all fixed up, but I do think you should grab a cab home…you don’t want to bleed all over the carpet.” She turned to her date who wasn’t a date but also was. “Let’s go get another drink while Messy Martha here gets fixed up.”

Iyla’s appearance was a tangible relief, loosening the knot in his chest because she could definitely take charge of this situation and get Zane out of it. There was no way she had the same response as him to awkward scenarios as these, which usually ended way too close to the ‘freeze’ spectrum of stress response. This instant relief was very short lived however as another feeling washed over him, seeming to resonate off his non-date for the evening. She was angry in a way he had somehow assumed someone as composed as Iyla couldn’t get. His longing to end this situation finally overpowered the awkward politeness but it was too late. 

There was blood and crying and a small commotion, controlled completely by the woman Zane was now realized he didn’t really know at all. Instinct told him to help the injured woman but what he assumed was the champagne from before seemed to be settling in, making his head feel like it was filled with cotton. Which made it really hard not to focus on how good the blood smelled, even through the stinging smell of vodka. So he let Iyla usher him away from the scene towards the bar where it felt safer, the piercing look that had been in his companion’s eyes seconds before the glass exploded still reeling in Zane’s head. 

The second glass he’d gotten for himself, mostly as a prop, was raised to his lips for a lack of something better to do as Zane tried to get a hang on what had just happened. Iyla ordered her drink and he watched her curiously. She was back to the persona he’d witnessed for most of the evening, seeming completely unfazed by the whole thing. “I’m sorry about your drink,” he finally said dumbly, not sure where else to begin. “She sort of just… took it.” A pause. “Are you… okay?” Asking Iyla that and not the woman who was being escorted out with napkins pressed to her face was odd but it seemed the safest question to ask at this moment. 

A flurry of waitresses and bar staff surrounded Martha, a woman who for some reason thought she was always invited to Iyla’s parties even though she always made a scene. Someone had screamed and there were hushed whispers, wondering what happened, but just like any other party, it dissipated quickly. There were other, more fun, events happening, and one case of a spilled drink or a few flecks of blood wasn’t going to keep a crowd down for long. 

Iyla ordered them another pair of drinks, this time taking hers directly from the bartender. She raised it to her lips, finally tasting the perfectly crafted cocktail, one her mother had taught her how to make to perfection but so many got wrong. “Ugh, I’m sorry you had to see that. I know it wasn’t your fault, that bitch always thinks she can just take anything that’s mine. Drinks, men, women, shoes…” Iyla settled against the bar, leaning her elbow on the surprisingly unsticky surface and looked up at Zane. Poor thing looked like he’d seen a ghost. 

Iyla’s voice went from annoyed to sincere in a matter of seconds. “Oh, and I’m sorry about the blood. Was that hard for you? Or if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine too. We can just drink and dance and stargaze.”

Zane drank when she did, knowing that alcohol for worry and stress wasn’t recommended for a reason but this evening was already a mess so he let the sour-sweet taste of the drink soothe him. It seemed that Iyla had a long standing feud with the woman and even though he couldn’t say he agreed with the host’s methods, it was definitely rude to show up to a birthday, drunk, and start berating the birthday girl to anyone willing to listen. His shock over the whole situation was fading, whether under the comfortable blanket of alcohol or because he felt a bit sorry for Iyla having an unwanted guest, and Zane found that he much preferred the sincere version of Iyla. 

“The blood…?” Had she noticed him staring? His eyes hadn’t changed, had they? No, this was way too calm of a response to anything like that. She was just being kind. “Oh, no! I mean, I see way more than that at work, just… caught me by surprise is all.” It was easy to forget that Iyla had verbally and physically hurt a woman, literally moments ago, when she was being kind and almost genuine now. And trying to enjoy this evening in the way they’d been having fun before in the town car, letting her dote over his tie and chuckle at how much Zane liked the champagne, seemed much more appealing than the evening being ruined by this. Ruin the risk of friendship. 

“I have two left feet but if you’re willing to risk it, me dancing can definitely be your worst birthday present this year.” 

“Yes, the blood.” And the no reflection. Iyla was constantly grateful she hadn’t been made into a vampire, losing her ability to see herself in the mirror, plus the taste of blood…the though had her wrinkling her nose. To anyone else, it must have come off as someone who simply couldn’t handle the sight of blood. “Mhm…” She placated, her eyes narrowing just a bit. A newbie, then, she decided. Most older vampires she knew wore it proudly, once someone was in the know. But perhaps that was just the crowd she ran in. No point in pretended we aren’t what we are, she thought. Might as well embrace it.

Iyla smiled at her date for the evening. Sexual attraction or not, Zane here was her lovely ken doll for the evening, a perfectly wonderful plaything that she wanted to drag out of whatever shell he was hiding in. She downed the rest of her drink, all the alcohol she’d ingested finally making its way to her brian. Curses of being undead. “Well then let’s forget that ugliness, and cut a rug.” Iyla held out her arm, waiting for Zane to be the gentleman and lead her out to the floor. “I can think of no better present.” And for once, for one inexplicable moment, she actually meant it.

[nicsalazar]

Moth to a flame || Nicole & Zane

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @rn-zane  & @nicsalazar SUMMARY: Nicole comes to the ER with a cut. Zane's super chill about it. CONTENT WARNING: Medical blood

Eleven. That was the last time Nicole set foot in a hospital. A sprained wrist after a tree climbing accident. She always enjoyed climbing, despite her mother’s numerous warnings. What she first recalled of that day, however, wasn’t her mother grounding her for two weeks (though that did suck), but how much she had hated being asked questions and prodded by professionals, and fuck— did it make her feel like a freak. 

So she decided, after that, that she was done visiting hospitals for the rest of her life. 

It was clear in her demeanor that she didn't want to be here, waiting to get that nasty cut on her arm checked. It wasn't even her fault. And it was fine. But the boss insisted she got it checked. Doing as much as to send someone to chaperone her. A fucking chaperone. Nicole slumped, face wrinkled in displeasure, mind going over incident reports and other paperwork she wasn’t looking forward to get done. She almost missed the nurse that was fast approaching to her side.

Straightening up her back slightly —she wasn’t rude, okay?— Nicole gave a nod of acknowledgement. "Believe me, this is unnecessary. I can just... rub alcohol on it myself" thank you very much, she didn't say.

Zane rarely had much time to do a proper reading on patients before he saw them, usually getting the highlights thrown at him before running to the next bed. This time, he’d actually managed to find a free computer at the nurse’s station, sitting down mostly to get his mind back on track. He wasn’t supposed to be here right now but when the handsome charge nurse asked Zane for… well, anything - his automatic response was an enthusiastic yes. One day, he might end up accidentally curtsying to the man if he wasn’t careful. 

So here he was after his already 16 hour day shift, filling in for a sick nurse and heading into hour 20. And he was hungry. 

The smoothie glass with his shift ‘snack’, very clearly marked with his name and a ‘do not touch’ sticker, had held him off for some time but… besides, his replacement would be here in less than an hour. He had other things to think about, like the - oh, wow - literal firefighter waiting for him. 

Head slightly clearer, he maneuvered past the gurneys posted in every hallway and pulled back the curtain to the assigned spot. A courteous nod to the man standing by the hospital bed was all Zane managed before the patient, the firefighter, spoke up. 

Zane smiled, a soft smile reserved for children and the more nervous of patients. “I really won’t be a minute and from what I heard, you might not even need… stitches…” His voice faltered at the end, eyes dragging to the wound on her arm. It was still weeping blood despite the fabric pressing down on it and the smell wafting up…

He cleared his throat, dragging half of his attention back to the patient. Nicole. Human. Not a meal. “I’m Zane. Do we need to worry about any debris in there, Nicole?” 

Maybe they’d be done soon. And she wouldn’t have to tell Leah about her ER visit. Nicole lowered her gaze, snuffing out the small flame of hope in her chest. Instead her eyes fell on the makeshift bandage, willing to accept –for the first time– that it still seemed to be sticking with fresh blood every now and then. And that couldn’t be too good, right? She tilted her head to figure out a proper answer to his question.

“I— probably” Nicole admitted, jaw tightly clenched before she let out a weary sigh. Some of the tension evaporated in her breath. After all, these people were here to help. No matter how terrifying she found their shiny tools to be. When she spoke again, the edge was gone from her tone. “They patched me up with what they had in the field. We don’t really get too…” she snapped the fingers, fishing for the word in her hazy brain. “Cómo se dice? We just got the basics up there, y’know? But should be clean enough”. 

Nicole glanced at her crewmate, but he remained quiet, as if scared to contradict her. “Someone in handcrew slipped, they were carrying fuel… branches, weed, anything that can—” did nurse Zane need the whole story? She paused, heat rising to her cheeks. “It might be a little dirty, anyway” she concluded, releasing the hold she had on her left bicep, silent permission for the nurse to go ahead and get to work. 

For the first time ever, Zane was relieved to have a nervous patient. Nicole seemed way too preoccupied with her own discomfort to notice how jittery the blood was making him but her guest on the other hand… Feeling like he was getting rid of a witness, he politely asked the man to hang back in the waiting room due to lack of space, which definitely wasn’t a lie. With curtains on every side giving staff just enough space to squeeze in next to the beds, one extra person could definitely fill up the space. 

“Right, I noticed the firefighter thing. That’s really cool, y’know,” Zane started, falling into the habit of talking to distract patients and, in this case, hopefully distract himself as well. “Not sure I’d willingly run into a burning forest, even if I was getting paid for it.” Practiced hands busied themselves with preparing an IV line, his attention focused on the non-injured hand for now as he swiped over the skin of her forearm, tightening a tourniquete. “Small pinch,” he warned, settling the IV needle in place and making quick work of bandaging it down, definitely not entranced for a moment at the droplet of blood that managed to leave the line before he screwed the cap back on. 

“I’ll need to draw some blood, maybe get a little fluid in you. Are you feeling woozy at all?” Turning from Nicole, he busied himself with preparing supplies for the wound, really not in a rush to expose the whole thing to his nose. 

Nicole offered a small, thankful nod once the nurse finally dismissed her chaperone. She planned on slipping past him when she was free to go, but her escape ideas and other petty thoughts were interrupted by the nurse’s voice. Breathing out a laugh, her eyebrows pinched together. “It really isn’t like that—unless you’re a smokejumper… or a hotshot, which I’m not. They’re the cool action heroes” she explained. There was nothing glamorous about digging up a fireline or reducing fuel. “You work in the ER, I bet people think it’s… y’know, stuff out of a movie”.

Her eyes landed on Zane, as much as she hated staring. Nicole’s options were limited in the secluded space. For the first time in the evening, her thoughts went to someone other than herself. Knowing a thing or two about exhaustion, it was easy to recognize the signs on him. So she acknowledged the pang of guilt at her previous behavior, mentally promising to be more cooperative moving forward.

At the sight of the needle, Nicole tried to distract herself by sneaking a look past the curtains. She couldn't really make out anything but white coats and varied colorful scrubs, but it did the job of taking her attention away from her arm as the nurse set the IV line. “No…no. I’m—” fine, she almost said, stubbornly. But the words died in her tongue. No one was here for her to prove a point anymore.  “Not woozy, but— guess my arm kinda hurts” she conceded, bringing her thumb and index finger as close together as possible, “barely”. That part was true, she had endured far worse. Meanwhile, she appreciated the play by play, wondering if that’s what she had needed when she was a kid. No one seemed to explain much to her, referring only to her parents. She could do the whole introspection thing once she was back on her feet. “Right, blood, take it”. She gave him a nod, ready. 

She was talking now, visibly less stressed now that her coworker had left. The answers about Zane’s firefighter inquiry seemed rehearsed in a way, as if she was used to making sure people didn’t think she was an actual hero. It was stupid, obviously, if only judging by the giant cut on her arm that she definitely wouldn’t have gotten working at some desk downtown. “Yeah, your job seems really safe and this definitely doesn’t make me think you’re an action hero,” Zane joked, nodding towards the cut and just as quickly looking away from it again. Keep it together, man.

Smiling as Nicole finally let go even further, admitting to her pain, Zane gave her good arm a soft but comforting squeeze. “Secret’s safe with me,” came the conspiratorial reply as he gathered up the vials, took the samples and set them aside. He was running out of tasks to do that didn’t involve assessing the wound and a phantom heart was starting to beat wildly in his chest at the thought. This hadn’t been a problem any other time, he’d literally gotten covered in blood a few shifts ago and only felt a mild pang, like when you dropped a fresh cookie and realized you couldn’t eat it. Now it felt like a tug, this hunger, egging him on to get to the source of blood and then… what? He’d never bitten anyone, didn’t plan on it and especially not in here. 

So he rambled on as he gathered up the rest of the materials, moving to give Nicole some painkillers. “I remember the first forest fire I ever saw, we were in California and it almost started out of nowhere. The news had all this footage of people doing what the could, helping families from their homes or spending hours cutting down trees and digging ditches, I was pretty much in awe and wondering if would ever be able to make an impact like that. Then when they covered the deaths I realized that a job that dangerous is definitely not my style, I mean, Grey’s makes hospitals look like the most dangerous place ever to work but that’s TV and here…” Zane finally looked up from the gauze he was unpacking, mild horror dawning on his face. “Sorry, I’m… rambling. Let’s get to that wound, yeah? Get you out of here.”

Without giving himself time to overthink it, Zane positioned himself next to Nicole’s wounded arm, removing the material that had previously been keeping her blood where it was supposed to be. It wasn’t too bad, would definitely need a few stitches and a little bit of cleaning up but there didn’t seem to be any damage to muscles or nerves. A small artery had gotten cut, still dripping out fresh blood. Zane swallowed. “You’re going to… you’re going to need a stitch or two.” His eyes were locked on the wound now, gums aching with pressure. 

Nicole bowed her head, shaking it in disagreement. “I’m not!” she doubled down, a hint of mirth betraying her words. The optics were there, she couldn’t pretend they weren’t. If she were slightly removed from her situation, then she could probably see it a lot clearer. She let the topic go, unwilling to agree with him, but unable to find the arguments to persuade him.  Zane, on the other hand, was doing a great job at turning her perception of medical care around. She felt further at ease once he offered a friendly squeeze.

The gentle hum of understanding was the only sound Nicole made as he recalled his memories of wildfires. It never got easier, dealing with families losing all their belongings. Arguing with those who refused to live their livestock behind. And then, of course; the casualties. Civilians and firefighters. It was a lot, but any sort of commentary she made would tilt their previous argument towards Zane’s point of view.

“You’re fine” Nicole never minded ramblers. If anything she always held quiet appreciation for them. It made conversations so much easier. She was a listener, and if somebody else wanted to take the spotlight, well… it was the perfect scenario, wasn’t it? “Getting out of here sounds great, but I don’t mind your chatting” she raised her gaze to offer a reassuring smile, but his face gave her a pause. “Um. Are you—” okay? She closed her mouth, let him gather and prepare what he needed. Meanwhile her mind raced, searching for an explanation. Maybe he was new. Hadn’t gotten used to all the bodily fluids yet. He looked very young. it would make sense. 

Nicole knew direct questions were uncomfortable. Sometimes provided no results. So she had perfected the art of the roundabout. Finding a parallel thread to pull from, until the truth came undone. “Long day?” She tried, instead. Maybe she was doing that thing again. What was it called? Projecting or something. “You look a little rough, is all” Or like you’ve never seen a bloody arm before. Only then, she realized she should be concerned about that. From a logical point of view, not a sentimental one. Because this person was about direct all the pointy things into her skin and if he wasn’t completely comfortable… “Sure we need that? I— I need that, I mean. You think I need that?” she looked pointedly at the suture kit. “I scar pretty well, actually”. She was stabbed in the shoulder once, not a single was stitch needed. But Zane couldn’t know that was because a jaguar had overtaken her body for five years. “Maybe a bandaid’s enough”.

“Hmm?” Lips pursed tightly together, Zane tore his attention away from the wound and looked up, straight into Nicole’s worried eyes. So he obviously wasn’t hiding his raging thoughts well, or at all. She was looking at the suture kit like he’d proposed cutting off the whole arm to make things better and honestly, he didn’t blame her with the way he was acting. “Oh, uh… yeah, extra shift today. Sorry.” Hands working on their own accord, practiced movements dousing some gauze and wiping it around the wound, most of his attention on the opposite wall in the hopes of shutting up the clawing voice in his head. 

“Think I might ask the doctors to stitch it up, actually. Since it cuts a little deep.” He’d done a few sutures in his time here, most of them shallow but sometimes, on the really busy days, a junior doctor would throw the suture kit his way and run off to some other, hopefully more sick, patient. Theoretically, Zane could do a good job of stitching up the wound. At this very moment, though… 

The gauze moved over a nice, clotted part of blood, tearing it away and -joy- exposing even more blood from the wound. Zane felt it before he realized it, the shift in mindset and the distant feeling of his eyes gaining more focus on what mattered. His gaze was downcast, thankfully, as now red eyes were staring down at the wound. “Let’s, uhm…” he stuttered out as he moved to stand, briskly enough to make the stool he’d been sitting on tumble backwards. “I’ll go get them now,” he blurted out, turning away from Nicole and grabbing at the bridge of his nose, which was a mistake with a blood splattered glove still on. “Sorry, I… sorry.” It was almost incoherent, words spoken through gritted teeth as he stood tense for a few seconds too long, willing his body to move. 

It finally did, clattering into the nicely prepped table of supplies and sending a few things scattering to the floor. The brisk walk away from Nicole, away from the temptation, was closer to a run than a walk as he retreated to the nearest bathroom and locked the door, leaving him only with the blood spattered gloves, eyes still gleaming red and head pounding. 

Nicole opened her mouth, deciding to ask a follow-up question. Something that would shed light on why the young nurse's behavior suddenly changed. But he interjected before she could say a thing. His suggestion earned him a frown, and Nicole’s latent annoyance surged up again. A doctor? Wouldn’t that take more time? Time that she absolutely didn’t want to spend in a fucking hospital? She shook her head, making the mistake of clenching her hands into fists. She let out a hiss as her wounded forearm protested the action.

But the pain reined back her anger, allowing her to put things into perspective. Neither Nicole nor this guy were having the best of times, clearly. It was better to part ways. He certainly didn’t look in the headspace to shove a needle into her arm. She sighed. “Ah…Y— sure, whatever you…” her words were cut off once more by his jolting movement. Jesus. She winced at the clattering sound the stool made as it flew back. She sat there, dull ache forgotten, watching this man become an incoherent, twitchy mess. The apologies spilling from his mouth barely registered, as another clumsy movement ended up with supplies scattered on the ground. Oh, the guy had lost it. Nicole almost felt sorry enough to reach out. But she didn’t, because having to wait for a doctor still pissed her off .

His turn to disappear was marked by a flash of something red, but Nicole was too stunted to comprehend any of it. The detail would end up forgotten as she reported the story back to her crew. With the small cubicle now silent, there were no distractions to stop the steady wave of annoyance washing over her. She clenched her jaw, tempted by the idea of bolting.

Well, so much for Zane changing her perception of medical care.

[dryya-doesnt]

Hi guys…. I’m being extremely cringe and rewatching Minecraft diaries…. Here are some doodles…mostly self indulgent color practice

Garroth!!! The helmet guy himself go white boy go… love him I rlly liked early s1 garroth he was so serious 💀💀💀 actually hilarious

Laurence was done so dirty with that fire engine red hair…also his howl pendragon arc was rlly cringe then and still now LOLLL

Zane 🙁🙁 (he’s having a tantrum) still hate him he’s insufferable

[bubbi-pop]

Drawing Zanechan/Zana in 2024, the world is healing (+reference pic)

[spinchip]

STRANGER

[crowleycorvid]

Collect my polycule. My mechanicule perhaps

[paragox]

Harumi gets a Death Note but things don't go according to her plan.

A Saga.

"How do you write Montgomery?"

"Why would I tell you? I don't wanna die… Actually-"

"You don't know how is spell do you"

"I'm illiterate I only coursed until third grade"

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"You're Jay Walker? Are you sure that isn't made up? What about a more normal surname like ..." *Checks notes* "Gordon?"

"I AM Jay Walker, where did you even-"

"… Son, there's something we've to tell you"

"…"

"What do you mean I'm adopted?!"

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"I thought your last name was Brookstone?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Then why are you still alive?"

".. I'm surprised too"

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"Uh… Do you two even know your last names?"

"Yeah, of course! We're Smith"

"Nya.."

"What?"

Whispers "I don't really know our last names"

"..."

"..."

"… Have I lived a lie all this time?"

"… Yes"

"Kai, I'm gonna murder you"

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"Why isn't Zane dead?"

"… I think the Death Note doesn't recognize him as a living person"

".. Please don't tell Zane, I'm begging you, he already has enough crisis as it is, just tell him the book is specist"

Somewhere else Echo Zane is found dead and used as scrap.

Alternative: Zane keeps being turned on and off because Harumi is trying really hard to kill him.

[nyaskitten]

Autism art.

[dixoterin]

my laptop went out of commission in the middle of drawing this lmao

[just-a-pole-sir]

[theplatypusblue]

Zane wanders into a room in The Administration, only to find that it has a pile of other Zanes in it. Hopefully nothing bad will happen to him.

Drawing of a rough concept for a fan fic a wanna try and write someday. (Weird alt color ver below the cut cuz I thought it looked cool - there are bright colors tho so be careful)

over-saturated blue my beloved <3

[thesinglesock]

I like how all the Ninja have their strengths. None of them are really "better" than anyone else, they know the same martial arts disciplines, and sure, often the writers have just had them mastering the same techniques all at the same time for efficiency's sake, but sometimes (especially in the later seasons) they show us how they all learn differently and are all the "strongest" in their own ways.

Cole is physically strong. He's surprisingly nimble for his build, but his strong suit is Pure Power. He can Pack a Punch and usually excels at things that require him to perform in short, yet powerful bursts.

Nya is the most in tune with her elemental power. It took her some time to get there, but once she found the right frequency, she quickly became the most dangerous elemental master in the world. Controlling the tides is like breathing to her.

Jay's strength is his creativity. He may not be the most in control of his power, the strongest, or that great at honing his skills in martial arts, but because he's able to think outside of the box, he finds ways to use his strengths that no one else on the team would even have considered.

Kai is the most disciplined when it comes to martial arts. The elemental stuff doesn't come that naturally to him, but he has a knack for picking up the technical skills really quickly, and so the elemental powers follow suit.

Zane is the most precise. He can't always master the most complex moves at first, but he never misses a target, and always knows where to strike to end fights quickly.

Lloyd is the most spiritually inclined. New mythical powers just grow on him like rashes. He works hard too, don't get me wrong, but if the moment calls for a new magic trick that hasn't been practiced in centuries he's your guy.

idk I just think it's neat that this is a thing they've kept pretty consistent throughout the multitude of seasons

[minnowminn]

made some button designs for a con this summer lol to the ninjago fans i met there ily

[thatsalotoftoons]

zane saying he doesn’t experience heightened emotions as if THIS wasn’t his reaction to finding out he’s a robot

[nightbeamed]

zane

[imliterallysnakejaguar]

thinking ab zane and kai's friendship fr fr,

how zane admires kai's strengths (and knowledge about people) and expresses it explicitly (straight up asking what certain things mean or why people are doing what they're doing) and he's completely genuine about it. like theres no pity or condescending nature towards it, zane just believes that the others on the team know more about life and people than he does. but kai would take that to heart more than the others.

his parents left without telling him why, he wasn't a very good blacksmith leaving nya's heavy lifting to provide for the both of them, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't become the green ninja. he was even the last of the core four to discover his true potential. kai has never been used to genuine praise. kai probably never truly thought that he was the best at something, or better than someone else. but when zane (a literal prodigal nindroid with a heart of gold) asks him for help and holds him at such a high regard? that hits HARD.

and zane, this assumedly perfect nindroid, never seeming to understand how to get people to like him, or how to understand the meaning behind peoples' words, and kai just understands all of that so effortlessly. and instead of being jealous, he just genuinely thinks 'wow, this guy's so smart!' ???

also the underlying idea of them both feeling responsible for everyone and judging themselves bc they feel like they should have prevented something bad from happening or at least taken the brunt of the attack to protect everyone else,, like ouch. the heavy-hitting guilt and grief, the fear of being the only one left in their family, THEY'RE SO AUGHHHH