#but at least it’s not absolutely horrible

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 2

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

Bashing of like...every IC member? I think Rhys gets the worst though, kinda depression?, isolation, Cassian is an idiot, slut-shaming?, discussion of SA

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

Azriel kept showing up. 

And Zahra kept letting him in. 

She had no fucking clue what possessed her. 

And yet every time Azriel showed up at her doorstep…she let him in without protest. 

He always brought food or he cooked. Always something to eat. And he always stayed until she had consumed an entire serving in front of her. 

She should tell him to stop. She should tell him to leave her alone.

But Zahra never said a word. 

Zahra couldn’t manage that. 

It wasn’t like she had had many private conversations with Azriel before. And she did get t to see a side of him that…she never seen before. The kind, gentle side with a biting sense of humour. She could be as bitter and cutting with him as she wanted to be and he gave back just as sharply…but it never got personal. They never hurt each other.

And she got to know him. Not the spymaster, not Rhysand’s most trusted spy….but Azriel. The male. Not the Illyrian warrior, not the fae…but just him. as a person. Azriel who loved good food and good books. Azriel who smiled and who was gentle and kind…and coaxed mice back outside with never-ending patience. 

It was strange, how easy it was to talk to him. How easy and relaxed it felt to spend time with him. How natural it was that he was there. 

As if it had always been the two of them cooking together. 

She shouldn’t get too used to it. It wasn’t going to last. Zahra knew it wouldn’t. But she allowed herself to bask in it. Just for a little bit longer. 

Bask in the feeling of…having at least one person in this new life that…dare she say it? Was like a friend to her.

A friend. When was the last time she had had one of those? 

She didn’t want to think about that.

Just like she didn’t want to think about it, when Azriel started showing up earlier, reports in hand and joined her in working at the rickety old kitchen table.

Zahra worked on the ledgers, sorting through the numbers. And he sat right across from her, reading through his reports, quietly sipping his tea. 

(He had brought better tea with him.)

Zahra had thought that he would annoy her… but they were utterly content with ignoring each other for hours at a time. No need for words or unnecessary conversation. Just the comfortable silence of each other’s presence. It was oddly…pleasant. 

And somehow his presence…it lit something inside her. When she dropped off the account ledgers the next time, she made a quick detour to a cheap antique store just a few doors down.

Zahra browsed through the shelves on the inside. 

It was a tiny shop, filled up to the brim with old stuff and odd trinkets from the past. And then she found something that made her pause. 

An absolutely ugly, oversized armchair with the most horrible plaid pattern…but it looked like it was made for wings. The one chair in her kitchen worked for Azriel because the back was narrow enough to slot through the middle of his wings, while the one she preferred wouldn’t have worked in a million years…but the couch she had…that was another story. No way that couch was comfortable for him. 

But this armchair….

It was perfect, if you were willing to overlook the absolutely hideous pattern. But Zahra kind of grew to like it with each second that passed. So she pulled on her best haggling skills and bought that monstrosity. 

And then Zahra had the seething hot realisation that she needed to get it home somehow. She felt a tug at the hem of her skirt and stared down to find a tendril of shadows tugging at her.

One of Azriel’s. She just knew it.

The same shadows that liked prowling through her rooms and pruning the sad basil plant on her windowsill… She was also quite sure that they had started to oil the hinges on her door, but she hadn’t yet caught them in the act.

“You don’t to be able to bring that home for me, do you?” She asked them drily. The shadows coiled in a way that made her assume that they were laughing at her. Or at least having fun. It was honestly hard to tell. But another tendril popped into existence as if to say ‚Yes, I can do that!‘ 

A moment later, the chair had disappeared.

Zahra just hoped it actually had been Azriel’s shadows and not another bunch that liked stealing stuff. The thought that she had just given a chair away to some random shadows for free was a slightly concerning one. Oh well. Hopefully, it would arrive at her house soon enough and not at some random place. She had just paid for a pretty decent sum of money for that monstrosity after all. 

She bought other stuff too. Like actual spices, so Azriel wouldn't need to keep bringing all of that with him every time...another couple of plates...A blanket for the living room...

She didn’t even know what possessed her to do that. It was like something inside of her just…woke back up again. She had been dead in more ways than one. But Azriel was slowly coaxing her back to life. 

She felt more alive than she’d done in a long time. She could actually feel her heart beating. Her blood rushing in her veins. She could…feel again. And it was such an odd sensation. 

To her surprise, the armchair stood in the middle of her living room when Zahra arrived home.

A little shadow wrapped itself around her wrist as she gaped at the monstrosity sitting in her living room. The shadow seemed proud of itself.

"Thank you," Zara said politely and the shadow ruffled up as it preened. It was honestly kind of cute. And it was odd to see it like this. A small little bit of…personality. So different from what she’d always thought the shadows would be like. 

Then the shadow disappeared again and she was left with…the armchair. Which was now placed right in the middle of her living room.

Damn it. She forgot about how absolutely ugly it was. 

But oh well. It fit right in with some of the flaking of paint in the rest of her house...and the rotting floorboards in one corner.

At least that armchair was comfortable. She had to admit it. There was something oddly charming about that ugly old chair. 

She sighed, ignoring the chair for the moment as she organised her spices in the kitchen and then went back to work.

Azriel showed up in the evening that day, blinking twice at the chair.

“Where’d you get that eyesore?” he simply asked in greeting. 

"Antique shop," Zahra gave back drily. "And I bought it for your wings, thank you very much."

That made him blink in surprise. "For my wings?" he echoed and his eyebrows shot up.  "You bought an armchair for me?" 

There was something about the absolute surprise in his voice that made her want to laugh. "Yes, I did, Shadowsinger," she confirmed. "And just for you, I will ignore that horrendous plaid pattern that is covering every inch of that hideous thing." 

His lips curved into a smile, something like fond amusement playing in his eyes. "What a kind thing of you," he returned with equal amounts of dryness. "To give me such a wonderful eyesore to keep my wings company." 

He dropped down into the chair and she had to admit that it was perfect for his wings. They slotted through the gap in the back and seat without problem and he looked like he melted into the cushions. 

"It may be the ugliest thing I have ever seen, but it is the most comfortable too," he admitted with a sigh.

A small smirk edged up her lips. "I know," she simply said. "So you are stuck with it now. Consider it as a present for all the food that you give me." 

He snorted in amusement.

His head dropped back and he looked up at her, his hazel eyes glinting in the dim light. His wings were flared all over the back of that chair and she couldn’t help but notice how damn huge they were. 

He was big. She knew he was, of course, but it was easy to forget when she saw him next to Cassian. But Azriel was broad and muscular all on his own…and his wings flared all over her living room really emphasised it. 

And for some damn reason, she had the sudden mental image of his wings wrapped around her. The thought was absolutely ludicrous and completely inappropriate. 

She firmly squashed the mental image and instead just focused on the fact that Azriel was still looking at her through half-lidded eyes. There was an amused, almost fond smirk on his lips. 

"Where do I get paint from?" she blurted out.

That made his eyebrows raise. "Paint? Why do you need paint?" he inquired as he sat forward and his wings folded back against his body. 

"I should probably do something against the flaking-off paint around here," she admitted with a shrug.

He pursed his lips in thought. “And I assume you’ll try to do this all by yourself.” That wasn’t a question. He sounded pretty damn certain what her answer would be. 

"Have you talked to your landlord?" he asked her. "Are you allowed to do that? I mean, whoever it is is probably going to be happy that you do something...to stop this whole house from falling apart, but still.” 

She rolled her eyes at him. "You know, this house is mine," she gave back drily. "I can do whatever I want with it."

Azriel’s brows shot up at that, an amused surprise in his eyes. “You own this place?” he echoed, clearly not having expected that. 

"I won it in a game of cards," she admitted drily. "The guy I won it from inherited it and wanted to get rid of it. Nobody wants it because it's out of the way, but I like it."

Her one and only time in a tavern had left her with the house. She should probably consider that beginner’s luck. 

“You won it in a game of cards…?” he repeated again, a note of genuine surprise in his voice. “Are you joking?” 

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Nope,” she said with great amusement. “Nine men's morris to be exact. The idiot lost it fair and square.” 

He was looking at her in a sort of disbelief, yet there was something like respect in his eyes. “Remind me never to play cards with you,” he said drily. 

She just shrugged. "It was just once," Zahra said with a sigh. "I went to one of the taverns...decided to get utterly wasted," she snorted. "I don't think becoming an alcoholic is for me, because I spent 3 days afterwards throwing up."

“The hangover must’ve been brutal,” Azriel commented dryly. "So you won a house in a game of cards."

She just gave a nod. “Pretty much, as ridiculous as it sounds. I do think it needs some paint though."

Azriel just snorted. "I think it needs more than paint," he said drily. "It probably needs to be demolished and built up again."

“It’s not that bad,” she protested, but even to her, that sounded weak. The place was a dump. It was a literal dump. "It has character," Zahra said, her resolve growing. "Just because it's a little broken, doesn't make it garbage," she whispered.

There was something sad in her voice and Azriel just looked at her, a certain quiet understanding in his eyes. And she cursed him inwardly, because he saw too much. 

He always saw too much. Saw through her defences and the walls that she’d built up. 

"You are right," he agreed. "It's a little bit broken. But I am sure can be fixed."

A sharp pang flared up in her chest at his words, as if that gentle acceptance and quiet understanding from him hurt. She pushed it down, refusing to examine the feeling too closely. 

"And there a few different shops in Velaris that sell...paint...and other...things to...improve a house."

"You mean to stop it from falling down onto my head?" she asked him wryly

“Exactly,” he responded with an amused smile as he folded his wings again. “And stop the drafty windows from letting in a constant, cold breeze.” 

Damn it…she had been hoping he hadn’t noticed that. But of course, he had, because he was observant. Far too observant. 

“And you know, maybe put in a proper lock at the door,” he continued drily. “And fix the leaking tap in the bathroom…”

Zahra rolled her eyes at that. “I like that dripping sound, it’s very melodic,” she said with sarcasm drizzling from her voice. 

It made him chuckle lowly. The shadows around him rippled and coiled in response to their master’s amusement.  “You have a strange concept of melodious sound, if you find dripping water to be in any way pleasing,” he told her drily. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, should I be swooning over the sound of a harp or the violin?” she rebutted with a sharp little snort. 

“Not necessarily,” Azriel replied with an amused smirk. “Any other sound would be better than that constant drip…Though I have been known to enjoy the symphony on occasion," he admitted to her. "Or even some of the taverns."

A snort of laughter left her lips at that, despite herself. “I can’t imagine you in a tavern,” she told him honestly. 

He shot her a dry look at that. “Why not?” he asked, raising a single eyebrow at her. 

“It just doesn’t fit,” she gave back bluntly. “You in your leathers, standing in the middle of rowdy drunks. Just seems so odd.” 

He rolled his eyes at that. “I know how to dress down,” he rebuked her drily. “And I also know how to blend in.” 

“You’d stick out like a sore thumb, even if you wore absolutely normal clothes,” she retorted. “Your muscles betray you, Shadowsinger.” 

He huffed at that and then leaned back into the armchair, arms folded. “Now you’re just being insulting,” he groused and she snorted. 

“Oh, did your ego get bruised, Shadowsinger? How terrible,” Zahra dead-panned, making him roll his eyes again. 

"Let's just see if I bother making dessert, for you if you continue that," he groused at her. "I got all the makings of caramel pudding."

“What?! No, wait.” She leaned forward, something like panic on her face. “You cannot dangle that in front of me and then not give in! I even bought you an armchair!" she told him, making him snort.

“It’s a hideous armchair,” he pointed out with a smirk on his lips. “You really think it’s a gift?” 

“Hey! You agreed that it was comfortable,” she protested. “And you can’t deny that your wings like it too.” 

He snorted as he stood up and walked into her kitchen.

She did get caramel pudding in the end. Of course, she did. Even Azriel wasn’t immune to some good old puppy eyes. 

***

Zahra bought him a chair. He wasn't quite sure what to do with that knowledge. 

The fact that she had thought of him enough to buy one for him…it was something he was still trying to process in his mind. 

With the idea that she had spent her own money not on something to make herself uncomfortable...with the fact that her own bed was a mattress on the floor...but she had made sure that the next major piece of furniture she bought hadn't been a proper bed...but instead an armchair for him.

The fact that she had deliberately put his comfort above her own…yeah, he still didn’t know what to do with that information. 

He also didn't know what to do with the information that he actually...he actually really liked her.

Maybe it had been there since the beginning and he just hadn’t noticed it. But the more time he spent with her, more she made him laugh or argue or just…talk. The more he started to like her and appreciate her company. 

She was quick-witted and smart...and so quick to bloom if anybody paid her any attention. And when it was just the two of them at her house...well, then it was...it was so easy. So comfortable.

He forgot to remember to make sure to not give her any reason to be scared of him because she never was. She didn't even blink twice if he came home with the carcass of a deer slung over his shoulder, only cleaned off the table so that she could help strip it.

She asked questions about what he was doing and genuinely seemed interested. Never judged or looked at him weirdly, because she just seemed to get it. Just took him being the spymaster in stride, because that was who he was. Accepted it almost like she accepted his shadows.

He didn't think he would even need to hide the blood that coated his hands, because Zahra didn't seem to care one way or another.

She didn’t even ask him where he had been during the day or what he did. She just accepted the blood and dirt that came with it. 

And quite frankly…if he did his work at her dining table or locked into his room at the House of Wind…who cared?

That dilapidated cottage at least had better company than his own brooding one.

And it never felt felt he was intruding on Zahra when she used him as free labour for whatever redecorating she was doing that day.

They replaced the floorboards…he helped paint the door…

In fact, he was willingly going to her house every night, like it was the most normal thing in the world to do. It probably wasn’t, but he didn’t care. Every evening, when Azriel was done with his duties, he simply dropped into her house. 

They cooked together. Illyrian recipes that he knew…then some that he didn’t know that he had asked his mother for, who had answered into a sprawling letter…recipes that Zahra knew from her human years…and then he brought a cookbook from the library in the House Of Wind and they did that too.

The one thing the two of them did agree on though, was that no dinner was complete without dessert.

They both had a horrible sweet tooth.

Unspokenly, Zahra was the one who lit the fire of the fireplace and the oven…who put food in the oven and pulled it out again.

Zahra didn’t say a word about it. She just did it.

He didn’t even think about who was doing what if he was being honest. He just enjoyed having a shared dinner and the easy conversations that were taking place. It became as routine as breathing, just being in her house and spending the evening with her. 

He tended to linger too. Kept staying with her. So that he doesn’t need to return to the House of Wind, try and fail to sleep and listen to Cassian’s and Nesta's enthusiastic lovemaking.

That was why he stayed. He really needed to avoid the lovebirds at all costs, because they were…just too damn loud. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so damn annoying. 

“If you want and ruin your back on my couch, be my guest,” Zahra said one evening and he froze, staring at her.

She had gained some weight. It looked good on her. No longer a back of skin and bones as she had been, but her cheeks were fuller, Her clothing filled out more.

His gaze briefly flicked up to the couch and the frown on his face grew. “Honestly, that thing is probably the worst place to sleep,” he muttered. “But…I think I prefer it over listening to my brother and his mate going at it.” 

“Nice,” Zahra said with a snort, seemingly unbothered by the comment. “Seems like they know what it means to respect your need for sleep.”

Azriel snorted at that too. “Not quite,” he retorted with dry amusement. “They just don’t care.” It was the damn truth. Cassian and Nesta didn’t even bother putting up any kind of noise-mutting spell to spare his already poor sleep. 

Still…if he stayed there…” Aren’t you worried that I…” he trailed off.

“What? Ravish me?” Zahra drawled. “You had every chance at it for weeks and you haven’t touched me. So no, not really, Azriel.”

“I simply don't want to overstep my boundaries,” he found himself saying quietly. "I wouldn’t force myself on you," he continued with a quiet severity in his voice. "Not ever." I am not a brute," he added firmly. 

“Oh trust me, I don’t think you're a brute,” Zahra told him dryly. “If you wanted to force yourself on me, then you would have done it weeks ago.” 

He nearly flinched at the matter-of-fact way she said that. 

“I would never do that,” he choked out. 

“You are a good man,” Zara said quietly.

Something in his chest flared at that. A mix of shame and guilt, because he was so far away from being a good man. “I don’t want to give you any reason to fear me,” he said quietly, the words tumbling out of him before he could even stop them. 

Her expression softened at that and he held his breath. His shadows coiled, as if they were holding their inhale as well, waiting for her response. 

“It’s funny…” she began quietly and he had to forcibly keep himself from leaning in. “You have never given me a reason. Never.” He blinked at that, a small sense of surprise flaring up in his chest. 

“I…have never once been scared of you,” she told him bluntly and he stared at her incredulously. Because how could she ever say that? How could anyone not be scared of the spymaster of the Night Court? The male who was rumoured to be the spawn of nightmares and death? 

“Don’t look so surprised,” she deadpanned at the sight of his undoubtedly shocked face. “Honestly, you’re the biggest softie I’ve ever met.” 

“I am not a softie,” he protested with a sharp frown on his face. “I am a literal Shadowsinger. I am anything but soft.” He told her firmly. 

“Sure…” she said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes, clearly not believing a word he said. “You are a terrifying man for sure, Shadowsinger.” He bristled at her cheeky tone. “That’s why you come over here every night and feed me.”

“I-” he paused, not knowing what to rebut with that statement. It was true. He came over every, single night to share dinner with her, to…just spend time with her. 

Zahra just laughed, patting his cheek and then disappeared into her bedroom. “Good Night!”

Azriel let out a long breath and just shook his head at her retreating back. Sometimes he had no idea what to do with her.

But he also couldn’t resist the smile that tugged on his lips and he moved over to the couch, curling up on it and trying to make himself comfortable as much as possible. 

Even when it was a far cry from a massive bed in the House of Wind…it was the best night of sleep he had in ages.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he fell asleep fairly quickly. And even his shadows seemed to rest easy, coiling around his body and the couch like a cocoon. 

And for the first time in a long time, his dreams weren’t plagued by nightmares. 

He was awake before dawn, stocking up the fireplace and moving silently across the cottage so that Zahra could still sleep a few hours.

And then he winnowed to the House of Wind for a quick breakfast. He was out there preparing the training rings before anybody else.

It also meant that the shadows were happily trembling around him.

Which was good, because he still had a question to ask them.

“How high are the chances that you cheated at cards so that Zahra would get that house?” He asked the shadows drily.

There was a tendril of shadows assigned to each family member. Only so that Azriel would know where they were at every given moment. He never asked the shadows for more, he respected everybody’s privacy as well as he could…but…But this hadn’t let him go for weeks.

No answer.

He hadn’t expected one.

“Of course,” he said with a sigh. “You like her.” It wasn’t a question.

We do! The shadows answered brightly. She treats Master well!

His lips curled up into a slight smirk at that. They were right. She did treat him well. She never treated him like an intimidating male…she just treated him like any other person. With respect. With kindness. 

Teasing him.

He chuckled to himself at the memories of her teasing him, the way they bickered as if that was the most usual thing in the world. 

She isn’t scared of us like the other ones, the shadows whispered softly.

It was clear who they meant with that comment. Elain and Mor both. Zahra seemed to find the shadows more fascinating than anything. Talking to them even sometimes. In response, the shadows doted on her. Happy for once not to be ignored and outright feared.

He hummed his agreement at that. She wasn't scared of them…and they were growing quite fond of her. Which…he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. 

She’s pretty too, Master, the shadows commented quietly.

Azriel paused in his work at those words. Yes, she was pretty. With her tawny skin and dark brown hair…and green eyes….Her skin seemed to bloom with health. The way her body had filled out, her hips gaining more curves, her face getting softer. 

Though it did surprise him that the shadows made that comment. They had never done something similar about any other female…even females he had bedded.

That was certainly a surprise. He had to pause and think about it for a few moments. The shadows had never made any sort of comment like that on another female. On any female in fact. Yet they thought her pretty. That…was a thought he filed away for later. 

She doesn’t have a mate either…she’s free of…romantic entanglements, the shadows continued quietly. If you wanted her….

He froze at that. “Are you trying to convince me to pursue her?” He spoke out loud to the shadows. 

You like her. She would make you happy, the shadows responded. What’s the harm? 

“There is no harm,” he mumbled to them quietly, his fingers curling tighter around the handle of the spear that he was holding. “Nothing except that she would likely not be interested.” 

And he was done with that. Done with being turned down. Done with never being a choice.

If he just stayed her friend…he got to spend time with her…he got to listen to her laughs and giggles. He got to be treated by her with kindness and respect. Why destroy that?

It would be cruel and selfish to ruin the friendship he had gained by trying to turn that into anything else. She trusted him. She treated him like a person. And he wanted to keep it like that. 

And Zahra deserved better than him still being half hung up over Elain. Her sister.

Though to be quite honest…he had let that go. Elain had chosen Lucien and that was that. Azriel was more pissed off about how Rhysand was treating him than anything.

Though he never showed it, he was quietly furious at how Rhysand was treating him. After he had agreed to back off…he had hoped Rhysand would stop acting like an overprotective mother hen. 

He didn't.

And then Mor's Mating Bond with Emerie had snapped and apparently that meant that Rhys was now waiting for Azriel to have a meltdown.

Which he wasn't going to have, thank you very much.

He could think that how Mor had treated him had been utterly unfair...and he could still wish her nothing but the best.

The only thing that he had wished for had been a single conversation with his friend. But she didn't seem to want to have that and so Azriel hadn't pushed. Maybe it was better that way.

It was better that way, he was sure of that. The…closeness they had once shared was gone. Maybe forever. But he was more or less alright with that.

They could all leave him in peace and he would do the same for them.

He made that calculation without Cassian, who came bounding into the training ring with all the energy that Azriel was never quite sure where his brother got it from.

He had barely even put down his spear that Cassian bounded into the training rings, his face split into a broad grin. It was clear that his…morning activities with Nesta had been enjoyable as usual. 

“There you are,” Cassian said with a boisterous grin, clearly not noticing the rather sour mood that Azriel was in. “You look....surprisingly well rested," Cassian said, cocking his head to the side.

“I slept well,” Azriel answered simply, pointedly avoiding eye contact with his brother. He knew damn well what Cassian was going to be asking. 

“You slept well,” Cassian repeated, drawing out every word and making it clear that he was not going to let that go. “Care to specify where?” He asked point blank and Azriel’s jaw tensed. 

Azriel could not suppress the low growl that came from him at that. He was not in the mood to be teased by his brother. And he was also not in the mood to listen to another innuendo-filled conversation about Cassian and Nesta’s sex life. 

“Not one word about that,” he told his brother firmly and Cassian just laughed. 

“Oh come one.” He drawled. “I have to get my fun somewhere. Everyone else is mated already. I have to bother someone!” 

It wasn't supposed to hurt him. He didn't think so. But it still did. It cut. Sharp and deep.

The words cut deep, much deeper than Azriel would have wanted to admit. His jaw tensed and his hand clenched around the spear so hard that it might have creaked. He knew it was a joke…but it didn’t change the fact that it had stung. 

And Cassian didn't seem to notice that at all. "Come on, give me details!"

“There are no details to be given,” Azriel said simply, his voice carefully neutral. “Just because I am not spending the night and listening to the two of you going at it like rabbits, does not mean I have someone in my bedroom.” The words were harsher than he had intended. 

“Don’t tell me you do it in some grimy back alley with a random wench?” His brother teased him and Azriel’s temper flared. The Shadows curled and snarled around him, his temper snapping. 

“I would thank you for not speaking about females that way, and no I am not ‘doing it in a back alley’”, he retorted with a low growl in his voice.  “You should stop talking before you piss me off,” he warned his brother through gritted teeth.  It took all his willpower to make sure that no shadows lashed out. This was Cassian. His brother. 

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Cassian raised his hands, clearly seeing how his words had affected his brother. “I was only teasing. You can be so damn tense about some things. You need to relax,” he said and Azriel had to resist the very real urge to throttle him. 

[wiisagi-maiingan]

Universal healthcare would be a game changer in the US. It wouldn't solve everything, of course, and it still has its issues especially in a medical system that is poorly funded and understaffed but it would change SO MUCH.

Even aside from saving lives, which we all know politicians do not care about, it would be a massive boon to the economy to let people spend money on things other than paying off medical debts, paying expensive insurance fees, and paying for medication and treatment abd doctors visits. Like a household that isn't spending a few hundred (at least!!) on life-saving medicine every month is a family that can instead put that money towards luxuries.

And yet, even the most "left-leaning" politicians in the US just completely refuse to back universal healthcare. Full stop. A basic part of many other countries, countries that are frankly doing much better than the US financially, is treated as so absurd and radical that it's not even really a discussion by Democrats.

I know I've ranted about this before. You haven't seen it, obviously, but I've also had horrible breakdowns about this irl. I voted for Harris but thinking about her vague, completely milquetoast stance on single-payer healthcare genuinely makes me feel like I'm going to throw up because that is still the best fucking option we have.

I don't know how we can fix this. I don't know how we as a country can possibly continue like this, when even the absolute bare minimum in so much off the rest of the world isn't even a consideration by mainstream politicians here. I feel sick.

[browneyedbeauty5725]

Was scrolling through Polin twitter and was reading on the Penelope/Marina discourse again and I have more thoughts. Just rewatching the show and the whole situation you really start to see Whistledown was genuinely Penelope's only option. When you really look at what the other options were they all end up in the same ending except Whistledown.

Firstly Penelope did everything she could to talk Marina out of it before resorting to Whistledown and I see people say how could Penelope do that when Marina was so nice to her. Marina was nice to her until it no longer benefited her. The first chance she saw Penelope was no longer going to help her trap an innocent man Marina turned on her and became extremely cruel.

Pen's other options outside of Whistledown were limited. She could've gone to Violet or Anthony or like Colin himself said she could've told him herself. Say she did,say they believed her. Which Violet and Anthony probably would have, Colin probably wouldnt have he probably would've dismissed Penelope again. But say he believed her if he didn't choose to marry Marina anyway, Penelope telling any of them or all three would've more than likely not helped. Because they would've had to prove it true.

The way things were back then only the female could break off the engagement, which the only way Marina would do was if George had come back. So say Penelope tells them and they confront Marina and Portia, it more than likely would've ended with Colin being stuck because Marina could easily say Colin was lying. That he compromised her and got her with child and they had no way to prove it wasnt true. It wouldn't have mattered when the babies were born too early but were clearly full term. And them trying to elope made it look even more like they were Colin's. And Marina had made it perfectly clear she didnt give a damn about how anybody felt about her trapping Colin. So when you really truly think about it outing Marina in Whistledown was really the only option. Because there was absolutely no way to prove Colin wasn't the one who compromised Marina and got her with child.

And also when you think about it even Portia was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She had three daughters out in society, and suddenly she has to get this cousin married who happens to be with child before anyone finds out because her husband has put them so far in debt and her daughters reputations would have been ruined. And her trying to marry Marina to the old men was because they knew and didn't care about her situation they just needed an heir and were willing to claim her child and Portia thought they were so old they'd die soon anyway and Marina's child would inherit everything. She herself tried to talk Marina out of choosing Colin because she knew the risk was too great because of how well known and loved the Bridgertons were in society and only went with the Colin scheme when she realized Marina was not letting it go.

Was Marina's situation sad,yes it was. But Marina was not just a victim in this situation. She was a victim of her own circumstances and she put herself in the situation she was in. Point blank George shouldve married her before he left,he should've married her when he compromised her. And based on the fact she knew what missing her courses meant means she at least had some idea about what she and George were doing and what could happen. Marina was a victim of her own making and it was horrible and unfair,but she was also very much in the wrong for trying to do what she did to Colin.

[knightotoc]

Trying to wrap my head around Fight Club 1996 vs American Psycho 1991. Both written by gay men making fun of "straight" men during the AIDS epidemic, but I'm having some trouble finding discussions of the stories through this lens.

They're making me think of how people idealize the 90s, considering them the peaceful "end of history" before 9/11 restarted it. These books are about men who have more than they need and are absolutely miserable, even thinking that a "Great War" would give them more purpose. But the authors themselves were living through a historic plague that the average person was ignoring and continues to downplay.

I think one huge difference between the books is Fight Club is genuinely funny and hot, and American Psycho will absolutely kill your libido. FC has edge, and AP is a smooth slide into hell. This might be because "Tyler" is middle class and Patrick is rich. Or because "Tyler" does at least appear to be making human connections, even if they are fucked up or just in his head, while Patrick is unable to connect with anyone, even himself.

Both of the movies deserve their great reputations, but there were a few passages in these books that made me think the stories would be better suited to a more abstract adaptation, even an animation or hybrid rotoscope project.

There's a huge motif in AP about all the men looking the same, and this turns out to be key to the ambiguity of Paul Owen's death, that is iirc lost in the film. It's such an big detail that the film gives me the impression that Patrick didn't do it, and the book gives me the impression that he did. In a similar way, in FC, I pictured the narrator and Tyler looking much more similar than they do in the movie. I'm pretty good at faces (though I did totally mix up Elijah Wood and Daniel Radcliffe yesterday LOL) so the live-action casting loses a lot of the effect from the writing.

I was also reminded of these books while I was reading, parodies with unreliable narrators in ridiculously horrible situations: It Happened In Boston?, Candide, Don Quixote, The Quest for the Holy Grail, The Knight of the Cart, The Song of Roland sorta (lots of medieval literature is like this imo)

[demigod-shenanigans]

Anyway Valgrace chore splitting for when they live together hcs because I just felt like it:

-Leo cooks. Jason cannot cook to save his life and should in fact be banned from the kitchen. Leo has tried to teach him several times and Jason always at least kills a minimum of one household appliance in the progress (including the time they were just trying to make a salad, somehow). He’s also the one putting items away and wiping down the counters when he’s done. The only thing Jason is allowed to do in the kitchen is the dishes, which Leo proceeds to use his powers to dry.

-They handle shopping together. Leo is the one cooking and also the only one who knows what he needs for said cooking but cannot remember what’s actually in the fridge for shit. He’s also got the out of sight out of mind problem where if something he buys vanishes behind another container in the fridge he will promptly forgets they have it at all. After he bought hot sauce four weeks in a row that one time, Jason went through the kitchen meticulously documenting everything they have, and he’s kept a list ever since. Leo just adds whatever else he needs for what he’s planning to cook. 

-Leo is usually the one stocking the fridge after shopping because he insists Jason has a weird system that makes him unable to find anything. However. He cannot reach the top shelves. Jason ends up hovering Leo up and down so he can stock those because he’s trying to avoid another chair stacking counter climbing situation (short people have to help themselves somehow okay)

-Jason does the laundry. Leo regularly forgets laundry is a thing that even exists and honestly everything is going to end up oil-stained again in like a day anyway so eh. Jason irons and folds all of their clothes too but Leo just stuffs his into drawers where they’ll inevitably get incredibly crinkled.

-Tidying up depends on the room. Leo has a system, but that system is organized chaos. When it comes to his work bench/the workshop Jason isn’t allowed to touch anything because if he does Leo will spend hours trying to find things again. It happened once because Jason was trying to help and he felt horrible about it for ages. When it comes to minor stuff it’s absolutely Jason. Leo will drop the remote/his bag/his keys in a random place and Jason appears out of thin air to put them in their spot bc Leo won’t do it and they both know if someone doesn’t they’ll spend ages searching for them in the future. 

Jason can handle a certain degree of chaos (even comes to sort of like it because it’s cozy and lived-in and they have a home now!! Not just a random space they bought but a home filled with proper memories and little trinkets and everything!! It also makes him feel less anxious about the times he forgets/doesn’t have the energy to put his things away). But if it gets too bad his eye starts to twitch because he grew up with cohort sleeping quarter inspections and hated getting points docked on those. He will trick Leo into tidying up together if necessary (usually by suggesting they invite their friends over).

-Jason does most of the cleaning, because he just has way higher standards when it comes to that than Leo does (again, Camp Jupiter inspections). Leo will join because he’s very aware he’s the one causing most of the messes with his work, but he’ll definitely insist on background music and will also inevitably end up trying to convince him to do sword fights with the brooms mid-sweeping. Jason loves him for that.

[strawberrygummiess]

when you know you know.

Trey Clover x Gender Neutral!Reader 1.3k words cross posted on ao3 "One of the things Trey loved about you was your stubbornness. You were a tough cookie: no one could push you around. He bore witness to that when you combated Riddle’s overblot. And then Leona’s. It was clear to everyone that you meant business; he admired that about you. Lord knew it was something he needed to work on. But now that stubbornness led to this disaster you called muffins."

Trey never thought he’d marry anyone in his life.

It's not that he didn’t want to get married. But he barely had time to date, between trying to control Hearyslabyul chaos and running his parents’ bakery at home. By the time he had a break, all he wanted to do was be alone. He had long accepted that he would never date anyone, let alone get married.

That was until he met you.

It wasn’t love at first sight; Trey isn’t naïve. He always felt drawn to you. Your relationship always felt right. It’s like he knew when he met you. You had similar interests, and even when you didn’t align, he was inclined to believe “opposites attract”.

So, where you were horrible in the kitchen, he was there to help you. Or try to, at least.

One of the things Trey loved about you was your stubbornness. You were a tough cookie: no one could push you around. He bore witness to that when you combated Riddle’s overblot. And then Leona’s. It was clear to everyone that you meant business; he admired that about you. Lord knew it was something he needed to work on.

But now that stubbornness led to this disaster you called muffins. And no one could say you weren’t trying. And Trey had to respect that, at least. Because there was nothing else respectable about what you were doing in this kitchen. You were a step above Lilia. You could at least cook; he’d give you that.

But bake? Trey was seconds away from a panic attack baking with you.

First, the kitchen was a disaster. Ingredients strewn about, station messy, you not much better. The recipe book was forgotten underneath a pile of stray flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and everything else you’ve accidentally spilled while transferring ingredients into your mixing bowls.

Second, you were (and he meant this in the absolute, most loving way possible-) horrendous. Your baking skills were elementary at best; he wouldn’t mind if you followed the recipe. But you insisted on experimenting and learning on your own.

“I’ve always wanted to be good at baking, I’ve just never had the time or money to practice. This is like a divine intervention,” you said to him once.

More like a bad omen.

Trey had long given up on trying to intervene. Trying to tell you what to do was like pulling teeth. Instead, he stood in the doorway, watching you run around the kitchen trying to create a semblance of a muffin recipe. His fingers twitched every time you chopped your apples haphazardly, wanting to push you out of the way so you didn’t hurt yourself.

The oven dinged! as it finished preheating.

You quickly added your apples into your muffin mixture and frantically began trying to fill your muffin tins. You weren’t originally intending to make “apple pie” muffins, but as you were mixing your maple batter your mind began to wander and experiment. And now your muffins would be less of a quick breakfast and more of a sugary dessert. Oh well, you could always try again later.

You sprinkle your maple crumble on the top of each muffin and shove the tin into the oven. After setting the timer you finally start to relax. You let out a sigh and lean against the messy counter and cast a look at Trey.

You had forced him to stand in time-out after you got too frustrated by his anxious hovering. Now he was staring at you with a nervous grin, happy to see you were finished making a mess of his kitchen.

“The hard part is done- you ready to help me with the dishes?”

“Oh no. This- “ he gestured to the destruction around the room. “Is your mess. I am not helping you clean up, Prefect.” He sounded playful as he scolded you, but you knew there was some truth in his words. He did not want to clean.

“Aw, c’mon, it’ll be more fun than standing in time-out!” You quickly grab his arm, scraping your hand across the counter and sending a cloud of flour into the air.

“This is terrible, you might make more messes than Grim,”

“We’re two halves a whole idiot!”

He chuckled at your joke, shaking his head and rolling his sleeves to prepare to clean the kitchen. As much as he didn’t want to help you, Riddle would freak at the sight of the mess. You smiled in victory before joining him at the sink. The countertops could wait.

The pile of dishes quickly shrank as you both worked in tandem to clean them. Trey mostly listened to you dominate the conversation- your project in Crewel’s class, Ace and Deuce’s daily shenanigans, and the excitement of finally having a “sweet treat” at the end of the day.

He could listen to you ramble forever; he thinks.

“Done~!” You say in a sing-song voice, happily drying the last dish and grinning at him.

“Thanks, Trey. I was joking about helping me, y’know,”

“I would’ve helped you regardless,”

“I know, you big softie,”

You lightly knock his shoulder with your own. You can’t help but linger against him for a bit longer than you should’ve. You hope he doesn’t notice.

(He noticed.)

You try to play off your longing, quickly turning around to face the rest of the kitchen. As you do, you remember the rest of the kitchen is in horrific disrepair, and you groan in annoyance. You had to get better at not spilling.

“How do you avoid making messes?” You asked, putting your hands on your head. You were already exhausted. The timer dinged! and you charged over to the oven, hoping to avoid as much countertop scrubbing as possible.

“It helps to follow your recipe, for starters,”

“This is an unrelated criticism,”

You pull the muffins out of the oven and grin. They’re lumpy and uneven, and certain muffins have a burnt crumble topping them. And yet, they’re the best-looking bake you’ve had in a while. Trey grimaces when you aren’t looking.

As they cool, you and Trey clean the rest of the kitchen. You prompt him to talk about himself for a bit before a lull in the conversation puts you two in a comfortable silence. You sneak glances at him, watching him meticulously clean the oven surface while you scrub the countertops. He’s just so careful: delicately removing the burner tops to clean the crumbs that spilled underneath. You never noticed how messy you are.

“Sorry. You’re doing a lot over there.”

“It’s fine, crumbs get under here all the time. I’m sure some of these aren’t even yours.”

“Let me make it up to you,” You grin mischievously, coming up beside him with a teasing look and your hands behind your back.

“You get the honor of tasting these first. Now close your eyes and say ‘ahh!’”

As he closes his eyes you think about pressing your lips on his.

Next time.

Trey waits until you gently push the top of the muffin to his mouth before taking a bite. They’re sickeningly sweet, the mix of brown and white sugar plus maple syrup is overpowering on his tongue. The crumble is over-baked and crunchy, feeling more like a crouton than a nice texture contrast. And while he was sure he saw you add the apples, he suspected you failed to add flour to keep them even though the batter- he tasted none in his few bites. The muffins themselves had a thick gummy texture- over-mixed and dense.

They were horrible, but when he opened his eyes and saw you beaming at him with an expectant look, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything bad about them.

“It’s very sweet. I like the maple syrup. It tastes like a spice cake.”

Your grin grows impossibly wide, and you take a bite of the same muffin. You seem to enjoy it and you hum contently.

Trey thinks about the next time he’ll bake with you. Maybe he can sneak a helping hand in and make something edible. Or maybe he’ll have to keep baking with you until you get better. He was happy to spend as much time with you as needed.

[bittertomato]

Me: Okay time to settle down as a Toaru fan for the time being!

FGO: Hey

Me: Oh no

FGO: Hey

Me: WHAT

FGO: We made Ordeal Call 2 actually worth the wait

Me: Oh come ON

[egophiliac]

(looks at upcoming card releases)

I'm in danger :)

[seventeendeer]

this isn't at all meant to be condescending or finger-waggy because 100% we all have blind spots like this, but I'm really, really hoping that the people who never found Gaiman's approach to his own fandom concerning in any way will take this all as a learning moment.

he was an older, hyper-famous author engaging directly and frequently with an online audience of largely vulnerable young marginalized people. he presented himself as cultured and worldly, and made himself approachable as someone to go to for advice, encouragement and "wisdom." his manner of speech was extremely pathos-heavy and clearly intended to be comforting and encouraging in exactly the way his target demographic needed it to be to swallow every word. the way he spoke about stories and creativity was designed to make young creative hopefuls feel special and important, while sweeping real analytical techniques under the rug - in hindsight, likely so no one would think too critically about the disturbing amount of patriarchal abuse played for cheap shock value and voyerism in his own body of works.

Gaiman saw a target demographic that was desperate for an older creative role model to tell them they were worth something, and he exploited that pain to twist a narrative around himself where he was king and any critique leveled at him or his works were the enemy.

to be clear, he could have been innocent. he could totally have been just an out-of-touch old man saying nice things to people because he wanted to be kind and he thought he was a lot smarter than he really was. red flags are warning signs, not a surefire way to tell if someone is actually "secretly shitty."

but if you used to look up to him, PLEASE take this moment to revisit the ideas you absorbed from him. did you take his words to heart because they seemed to have objective merit? or did you take them to heart because it felt good to believe what he said? do you still hold these values? does knowing he was intentionally manipulating his online audience make you less certain? do you need more information from a different source before deciding one way or another?

again, I'm just really, really hoping people on here will take a moment to reevaluate the ideas and opinions he's injected into tumblr fandom culture, because his reach is immense and he has absolutely been manipulating popular perception of relevant topics to gain further influence and control the narrative around both his own and Pratchett's legacy. please, please take this moment to notice what he's been doing - and next time someone tries to pull the same shit, hopefully we'll be able to apply what we've learned from experience.

[minalots]

🐺🐺🐺🐈‍⬛

First drawing is just me seeing how I would draw all the WWs (excuse the fact I used trimax ww’s assigned pen for the rest of them) (tbh I think it helps seeing the differences but next time I’ll draw em with their assigned brushes)

Second drawing is a redraw from WW’s expression sheet

[whump-queen]

good idea: whumper tying their whumpee up and forcing them to cuddle

whumper’s arms wrapped tight and possessive around whumpee’s injured form—too strong to be fought off, or perhaps whumpee is just too weak by this point.

a softly murmured "behave” into the crook of whumpee’s neck while spooning

whumper digging their nails into fresh cuts, getting a whine and hiss in response—but they stop struggling, and whumper leans in close to their ear with a growling murmer— “mmn. good boy.”

whumpee feeling slow kisses pressed into the side of their neck that make their skin crawl

maybe whumpee gets their hands bound in front of them this time, so they can fit in closer against whumper. and its more comfortable too. “shh, let yourself enjoy this.”

whumper cuddling with their hand around whumpee’s throat, not squeezing or anything, just… resting there.

knowing that if they tried to pull away, that hand would tighten instantly and squeeze until whumpee was dizzy and writhing back against them

and size difference… their throat, so small and soft and delicate under whumper’s rough fingertips

the way whumper’s hands would fit around their waist— the way they could press in under their ribs until whumpee is choking and their chest is spasming

whumpee shivering when they feel low whispers in their ear. just… so sticky and possessive

whumpee waking up with sore aching muscles from being kept in the same uncomfortable position all night. they sleepily try and flex their muscles and move around—then they’re hit fully awake with a jolt of cold panic when they realize where they are—and that they still can’t move at all.

waking up with whumper’s arms still tightly wrapped around them and trying desperately to squirm away, before they feel whumper’s hold tighten around them and hear a sleepy possessive growl in their ear, “mnn… no. you stay.”

just… any of the ‘tied up and kept like that’ tropes melt my fucjfen brain

(shoutout @unorganisedalienrubbish for helping inspire today’s episode of terrible sticky intimate whumper shit)

[gayestcowboy]

guy who gets scared by a rat and jumps into gale’s arms, crushing him

[painfully-unoriginal]

🎄🎅❄️⛄

[kurikorso]

he’s worth 60,000,000,000$$ and has every mental illness known to man but he WILL be your friend

[auspicioustidings]

OK OK so the way I would do a mafia au would be reader who was raised by a single parent into a normal life but when their parent dies it is discovered that they are actually the grandkid of some mafia boss.

Said mafia boss did not know their son had a kid but us eager to spoil this grandchild so takes them in. Problem being after their son died the boss had over the years adopted children who are now all competing to be the heir, none of which are happy that their is now a blood heir as competition, especially not when it's some innocent little lamb of a civilian who doesn't even know how to shoot a gun.

[deesi-academia]

i was solving cbse pyqs and ohmygod the 2021-2022 batch had it ROUGH in the 2nd term I'm so sorry for you all :((