#yeah i love found family basically

[muscariii]

A few quick drawings from today :3

(sorry if the quality is bad procreate keeps messing it up and idk how to fix it)

[23z567]

[moeblob]

Karen: LMAO every guy I meet reminds me of my big brothers that's so funny except if Paul is already my brother and you're also a brother that's a bit awkward, huh Hot bartender: THATS MOVING REALLY FAST AND I LIKE YOU AS A PERSON BUT - Karen: having my brothers date would be SO WEIRD Hot bartender: Well on the bright side I literally cannot speak more than five words to him so we aren't dating because he's so cute

(Everyone else: that is somehow the most depressing bright side we never want to hear)

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

May I ask where the "bart absorbs the whole speedforce" happens? I've seen it referenced and it soulds like a really wild read.

Oh that's from Bart's short short short short run as the Flash.

I do not recommend reading it at all. It was hot garbage. Terrible writing, almost zero understanding of the characters and it just kinda spat in the face of the Flash as a concept.

The lore implications are neat but they don't go anywhere and they don't explore it at all. So yeah, I mostly just take the cool lore and forget literally everything else about the series.

[inthethickofbleeding]

I’m realizing that one of the many reasons I can’t help but love all the pain and questioning and love and fear and joy that’s come from Good Omens S2 is that I’m dying to reconcile the heaven and hell within me.

I find myself, for the first time ever, on the outside of my religion. I was always so afraid I’d be kicked out or let go, so I worked so hard for so many years to do what I thought was necessary to warrant the love of God and the congregation. I was really good at it, too. So, when it was me that did the letting go, as I take scary steps away from something I once thought was everything- I’m scared. For two years my anxiety has been tearing me up inside. But this summer was different. Because I’m still afraid of so many things and I feel sort of untethered? Like very free, but like I’m not sure where I belong? And yet, I’m now so… alive in it. If that makes sense.

I feel awake to myself. It does feel manic some of the time but it’s exhilarating for the rest of it. It’s such a niche and specific and gentle comfort that I’ve found in this gorgeous fiction and its fandom. Because religious trauma is crazy. And it’s easy to slip into thinking I’m crazy. But there are so many of us sharing vulnerable thoughts and art about all the things I’m terrified to face or ask or feel right here in the Good Omens space. And if it’s more than just me…maybe it really is an “institutional problem”.

I just know that I feel like I’m caught between heaven and hell all the time. I want to be the angel I want to be the demon. I hate the angel I hate the demon. I love the angel I love the demon. And finally, finally- here in this space- I feel okay with that. I feel less afraid. It’s like a miracle.

Thanks for this miracle.

[astralmarionette]

im currently writing an atsugawa (I hate the name shin soukoku or whatever I'm sorry but I'm actually not. also I cannot pronounce soukoku {this is the real reason I don't use soukoku}) and I don't even ship it lmaoo

[vanyafresita]

actually, you know what ? im glad my ex gf ghosted me, i dodged a bullet it seems

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

Wondering if I should put the elf marriage wip up on Wattpad again ... She's so silly but I love her <3

I remember when you talked about this wip a while ago. Omg I would love to read her 💅💅

I also had to ask: what's your favourite genre for books and games/IFs? Do these genres differ from what you write or are they relatively similar in terms of its genre?

I think I'll slap it up on Wattpad again just for shits and giggles. I've written like 60k and it's probably barely halfway into the story so like. Lmao. What am I even doing???

ANYWAY.

My favorite genres of IFs? I dunno, I kinda vibe with whatever in terms of genre, my pickiness comes from writing style and story focus.

I prefer ones that are more specific in scope and focused on character development and plot progression.

So games that describe themselves as "open-world" I shy away from, as well as like big, stat-based RPGs. If I wanna play something where I can fuck around and be a rogue-mage-warrior elf, I'll just play Skyrim, not read a fuckin 100k word book about nothing at all except stats and action scenes and interchangable bit characters. I come to IFs to read something interesting and to make choices that impact the narrative in interesting ways. To me, IFs are interactive books, and to me the pleasure of reading a book is about characters, narrative, and story. Adding interaction to that means I get to influence things, but not that I get to derail it like I can in Skyrim by ignoring the main quest line and fuck about collecting cheese wheels.

I do also gravitate toward ones with romance, obviously, but it's not a requirement if the story is good enough. Generally I also prefer fantasy over sci-fi, though mainly because sci-fi tends to frontload all the exposition and wordbuilding and is generally harder to get into. I also think that shooting lightning from your fingers is objectively cooler than shooting laser guns.

As for books, it's a bit more complicated, because I read mostly romance nowadays (don't have the spoons for anything heavier because I have brainrot), but I generally dislike romance as a genre. Not because EW GIRLY FEELINGS or EW SEXY MEN, but because mainstream romances tend to be very formulaic, both in terms of characters and relationship progression. And I get why that is, and that's probably why I keep finding them so easy to read. But for someone who loves to explore weird dynamics, funky tropes, new twists, reading romance gets kinda stale. I have fun writing romance, but when I read it, I feel like the authors don't? Like they're just boxing themselves in because that's what the genre says.

I also love fantasy romance in particular, because it lets you add a bunch of different layers to your relationship dynamic, plus it's just fun with elves and fae and shit. It's fun! But I love to also put some emphasis on the stuff that's outside the romance, but also keep it relevant to the romance? Idk how to explain it. Like my dragon wip where the princess dates a dragon sounds really tropey and stupid and it is, but I also touch on like ... culture differences, and generational divides, and prejudice and cycles of violence and stuff.

People always say "If you like romance in your media but hate the genre itself, read fantasy/sci-fi/etc with romance in it!" not taking into account that 1) That shit's really hard to find unless you mind spoilers because "[genre] with romance in it" doesn't always advertise itself as such and you'll need outside sources to recommend it to you and 2) the romance sometimes is so minor in these books that it's not really worth your effort, or it's prominent but entirely disconnected from the main plot, so it feels tacked-on even if it's well-done, which it isn't always.

I want romance where the romance is the main plot, but it's not the only plot, but other plots are also relevant to the romance. I want characters who are there to be smashed with other characters, but they're also their own characters, and the plot would still happen even without the romance, but it's only happening because of the romance.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND MY DILEMMA?! I can't even define what it is I want, so finding it in the wild is pretty much impossible.

I have decided to call what I write "epic fairy tales" because I want that focus on romance that fairy tales have and true love wins but where everything else also matters and is impacted by the love but also impacts the love in return, where the couple are the main characters but not because they must be in love but because they fell in love. AUGH. I don't know man my brain is broken!!!!

[astrxealis]

all my faves are ngl very similar (i can explain but it's difficult. that or i'd take a very long time explaining)

[orcelito]

Actually it is SO weird to me to remember that I was an engineering student and that later on I had been pursuing a minor in statistics

I may be a IT & com person in the end, but I do have the foundations of engineering and statistics in my brain too. Wild !

[trashyandtiredsol]

I like dis one :3

[arolesbianism]

hello gamers minor life update I have been doing Real bad lately so I will likely continue to be very inactive, but hey on the bright side I have been fleshing out some eternal gales lore I reworked a while back and I can happily say that Dodie no longer completely contradicts the very nature of reality in eternal gales and the fog tower™ officially has a real reason to exist again so hell yeah to that

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [6]

Weapon design always came easy to Jack Fenton. He grew up with it, all the way back in Atlantis, when he was just a little guppy.

What he wasn’t aware of at the time was that his parents were from a long and prestigious line of scientists and weapon manufacturers in Atlantean society. But things had been getting dangerous. 

The King at the time cast them out when they refused his demands of greater, stronger, deadlier weapons. The kind of weapons they knew would not only destroy their enemies, but themselves as well.

They fled and went where they thought they would never be found, the surface.

Jack had the easiest time adapting, being as young as he was getting used to breathing air was a lot less of a struggle. 

He adopted one of the most generic male names he could, and adapted the family name of Fenestratus into Fenton. And then it was just living as a human, as humanly as possible, nothing to see here.

By now Jack basically doesn’t know any better. but this piece of heritage is coming back now all these years later, when his son is looking to him for help from the government.

But first he holds his boy close and apologizes, because he sees the fear, and he understands a little too well, and he doesn’t like the picture he’s seeing now that all the puzzle pieces are falling into place.

“I almost became the thing I hate the most. I’m so sorry Danny, I’m sorry I made you feel unsafe in your own home”

The hug is long and warm and tight and Danny isn’t ashamed to admit he might have clung a little bit.

Then Jack holds Danny tightly by his shoulders and gives him a big grin, “Good news though, you’re only half ghost, the other half is not only human but also Atlantean, and there are laws protecting us now” Jack mutters to himself, “I wonder if the whole ghost stuff would actually be put under the meta protection thing… hmm”

Danny blinks for a moment, Jazz gapes, Maddie is suddenly no longer spiraling about how her baby boy got in a terrible accident in their lab and she didn’t know.

“I’m also what?”

“Dad!?”

“oh did I forget to mention that? I thought I did, I know for certain that I had been meaning to”

“Jack sweetie, are you-”

“oh yes, and I remember now, I decided to tell you after our big breakthrough because I didn’t want to distract you, and-” Jack looks sheepish, “I hope you aren’t too mad at me Maddiecakes”

“mad? oh I would never be mad at you about this but we could have- I don’t know, accommodated- Atlanteans are aquatic, well I guess that explains how you could always put away so much water, and when you gave me your umbrella and I thought you were just making an excuse when you told me you didn’t mind and in fact loved getting pelted by the rain-”

Maddie goes on, and Jack thinks to himself that this is exactly the reason why he kept it to himself at the time, Maddie never half asses anything, he’s sure a lot of things are going to change in the house now, it honestly only makes him fall in love with her even more.

Meanwhile Jazz had filled up a bucket of water and then dunked her head in, then came back out not even slightly gasping for breath, just saying “oh my god” over and over.

Danny timed it, “yeah okay, I guess that proves it. now I’m starting to wonder if my weird relationship with air is ghost related at all”

[xo100]

i’ve been thinking about this for so longgg

okay so basically a fic where lando and you met at a grand prix while you were doing a tour of the paddock you accidentally meet and start talking and lando asks for your number, you and your whole family have always been huge f1 fans and so you hide it from them when you start dating him but eventually bring him to meet them and it’s a big surprise and everyone is so shocked that lando is your boyfriend

Under the radar - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: request by anon as you can read above this!

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1384

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

You were on a tour of the paddock, weaving through the bustle of teams prepping for race day, while you tried not to be overwhelmed by the atmosphere. Your family had always been Formula 1 fanatics, and being here was a dream come true. You were taking it all in—savoring every moment of walking through the garages and team areas that you'd only ever seen on TV.

Your family had been buzzing with excitement when you told them you won tickets for the paddock tour at the Grand Prix. They were envious, of course, but you had promised to snap plenty of pictures for them. None of them could imagine the turn your day would take.

As you followed the group through the McLaren garage, something—or rather, someone—caught your eye. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw a figure rushing toward you. You stepped to the side instinctively, trying to avoid a collision, but your foot snagged on something, and before you could blink, you were falling backward.

Except, you didn’t hit the ground.

A pair of strong hands caught your shoulders, and you gasped, steadying yourself as you regained your balance. When you looked up, your eyes met warm brown ones, sparkling with amusement and a hint of concern. Lando Norris.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a grin slowly tugging at his lips.

For a second, your brain went blank. Was this actually happening? Was Lando Norris—McLaren's star driver, F1 wonderkid, and easily one of the funniest guys on the grid—really holding onto you?

“I—yeah, sorry!” you blurted, trying to compose yourself, though your heart was beating too fast. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No worries, happens to the best of us,” he chuckled, still holding onto your arms. “But I have to say, it’s not every day someone literally falls for me.”

You blinked at him, then laughed, the tension breaking. “Does that line work often?”

“More than you'd think.” He winked, releasing his hold on you, though he seemed reluctant to do so.

The tour group was already moving on, but you hesitated, still standing in front of Lando, unsure of what to say or do next.

He tilted his head slightly, noticing your uncertainty. “Are you with the group?”

“Yeah, but…” You waved a hand dismissively. “It��s fine. They won’t miss me.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your response. “Hmm, playing hooky already?”

You shrugged, biting back a smile. “Maybe.”

“Well, if you’re gonna skip out, you might as well do it properly. Come on,” he said, jerking his head toward the pit wall. “Let me show you around.”

You blinked. “Really?”

“Why not? You already tripped into me—seems like fate, doesn’t it?” His grin was contagious, and despite the voice in your head screaming that this was all surreal, you found yourself walking beside him as he led you past the rows of McLaren engineers, their heads down in concentration, and into areas the tour definitely wasn’t going to cover.

-

The rest of the tour passed in a blur—Lando showed you parts of the garage up close, pointing out the intricacies of the car, telling you little jokes about his teammates, and talking about life on the circuit. It felt strangely…normal. The kind of normal where you could forget he was a famous Formula 1 driver and just see him as the charming, cheeky guy he was.

By the time you both circled back around to the paddock entrance, you’d learned that he loved golf, he was obsessed with video games, and he had a dry sense of humor that had you laughing far too easily.

You didn’t want the conversation to end, but you knew it had to eventually. “Thanks for, um, the tour,” you said, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“No problem. You should come back, you know.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder toward his team, who were undoubtedly waiting for him to rejoin them. Then he turned back to you with that grin that made your stomach flip. “Give me your number.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?”

He chuckled softly, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. “Your number. So we can keep in touch.”

You blinked, processing what he was asking. Lando Norris wants your number? This was a conversation you were definitely not ready for. But despite the swarm of butterflies in your chest, you handed over your phone.

As you typed in your number, you couldn’t help but wonder how you were going to explain this to your family. Oh, nothing major, just met Lando Norris today…

-

You didn’t tell anyone. Not at first, at least.

After that day, Lando had texted you the very next evening, something casual about how he hoped you hadn’t tripped over anything else after you left. You laughed out loud, and your reply had been easy, comfortable. Before you knew it, the two of you were talking almost daily—texts that quickly evolved into phone calls and, eventually, meeting up at a few more races.

By the time you realized what was happening, you and Lando were dating. Quietly, but officially.

Your family had no idea.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell them—it was just…complicated. Your parents, your siblings—everyone in your family was obsessed with Formula 1. They knew every driver, every stat, every bit of news before it even hit the headlines. The idea of telling them you were dating an F1 driver—their favorite driver—felt impossible. You could already picture their reactions. The shouting, the questions, the disbelief.

So you kept it to yourself. For now, at least.

-

Months passed, and things with Lando grew deeper, more serious. He wasn’t just the famous driver anymore—he was Lando, the guy who made you laugh when you were stressed, who sent you goofy selfies from the hotel on race weekends, and who listened when you vented about your day. He was sweet, thoughtful, and maybe a little too good to be true.

Eventually, the time came when hiding him from your family wasn’t an option anymore. You had to tell them.

-

“I have a surprise for you guys,” you said nervously, standing in your living room with Lando by your side. You hadn’t told them yet—hadn’t explained who your ‘guest’ was.

Your mom and dad were sitting on the couch, your siblings sprawled around the living room, all eyes on you.

“What kind of surprise?” your sister asked suspiciously, glancing at Lando with a raised brow. He was wearing a baseball cap, pulled low enough that it wasn’t obvious who he was, but it wasn’t going to take long for them to figure it out.

You swallowed hard, glancing at Lando, who gave you a reassuring smile. He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently before stepping forward, taking off his cap and revealing his face.

For a split second, there was silence.

Then your dad nearly choked on his drink. “L-Lando Norris?” he stammered, eyes wide. Your siblings were frozen, mouths hanging open as they stared at him in disbelief.

“Surprise!” you said, giving them a nervous smile.

Lando, ever the charmer, grinned and waved. “Hi, nice to meet you all.”

Your family erupted into chaos. Your mom jumped up, asking a million questions at once, while your siblings started shouting over each other, and your dad was still trying to process what was happening.

“I can’t believe it,” your brother said, eyes wide as he stared at Lando. “Are you really dating my sister?”

Lando chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist. “Yep. Guess you’re stuck with me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, relief flooding through you as you realized everything was going to be okay. Your family was shocked, yes—but in the best way possible.

And as you stood there, watching Lando joke with your siblings, you realized something else.

You weren’t just dating an F1 driver. You were dating Lando, and somehow, that was even better.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also hey anon! If you read this, I hope that this is what you had in mind!

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley Imagines List

Before you ask, yes I been meaning to use @ave661 renders ever since she posted the Dad!Ghost part 2. Did I use most of them in this post? You know damn well I did.

Did I put in so much work into this one post? Yes. Am I going to be upset if it doesn't do as well as the ones I didn't put much effort in (Ahem the quokka Price imagine)? Also yes.

Tagging people who I think would like this: @puff0o0, @blingblong55. Honestly that was it but if y'all wanna be tagged in the next post then tell me in the replies :)

Parings: Ghost x Wife!Reader

❥ Dad!Simon who values nothing else over spending time with you and your child, even if it's something as simple as him and your little one laying down on your lap while you watch tv together. (Top left pic 🥺)

❥ Dad!Simon who gives the baby a bath for the first time, doing his best not to get soap in their eyes. Him rubbing the baby's head gently with his thumb to wash the suds off the little one's head and hair while they look up at him and coo.

❥ Dad!Simon who had a heart attack the moment he heard the baby cough while they're still in the baby bath net. He just turned away for a second to grab the towel behind him, the one moment he took his eyes off them, the little rascal tried to drink the bath water.

❥ Dad!Simon who's ever so gentle with dressing the baby, they're too little and too fragile in his eyes. Watching the baby try to chew on their own fist while he puts their little socks on. (Matching skeleton mittens for the little baby 🥺)

❥ Dad!Simon who loves hearing his baby let out such loud giggles whenever he kisses them, it's music to his ears to hear his little one let out such a hearty laugh, their little arms and legs flailing because their face is being tickled by his stuble.

❥ Dad!Simon who absolutely adores when his baby attempts kissing him or you (their momma) because it's basically just them having their tiny hands on his or your face while they're open-mouthed and almost headbutting their little lips on either yours or your husband's face.

❥ Dad!Simon who absolutely love nap time, mainly because he takes the naps with them. Nothing more sweet than waking up with the little one's life you two brought to this world.

❥ Dad!Simon who you found awake in the middle of the night to put the baby back down to sleep.

"Come on now pumpkin, you should let your momma rest. She's extremely tired of taking care of both of us.." Simon whispers while he cradles the baby in his arms, trying to lull them back to sleep.

You couldn't help but smile, knowing that what you do doesn't go unappreciated.

"I would never get tired taking care of you two" You said in a hushed tone, making Simon's head snap to the doorway.

To see you, his loving wife look at him as if he was the most important thing in this world reminded him if why he wanted to marry you a few years back.

❥ Dad!Simon who receives a video you sent him while he's deployed of the baby waking up from a nap.

❥ Dad!Simon who doesn't notice you in the room while you were trying to collect laundry, he was working out, you caught him doing push ups and your baby's attempts in copying their dad.

❥ Dad!Simon who bought the baby a little stuffie that they now are emotionally attached to and bring everywhere, yeah the baby constantly signals Simon to kiss the stuffie too.

❥ Dad!Simon who had to train Riley not to lick the baby so much because dog slobber and even though Riley was well behaved, poor thing didn't have much of a self-control the first time you guys brought the baby home.

❥ Dad!Simon who thinks it's absolutely adorable that his little one likes Riley so much.

"Dada!" The baby called out for Simon.

"Dada, Ri-ley" They said, pointing out a little finger to your family dog.

"Yeah pumpkin, that's Riley" Simon said, letting the little one make a beeline and waddled quickly towards Riley, giving the dog a hug with their tiny arms.

❥ Dad!Simon who spends forever looking for the skull part of his mask only to find the baby trying to chew on it, couldn't really blame them because the sight was cute and he knew how agitated they were with teething.

❥ Dad!Simon who constantly washed his gloves and almost never took it off during your baby's teething stage because god they were a strong biter. The gloves helped cushion the pain of the bites a lot.

❥ Dad!Simon who swore his heart was about to burst when he saw you and the baby meet him before he was able to go home after deployment for a surprise. (Of course Price was the one who set it up, he wanted to see his grandchild (might as well be)

"Dadadada–dada—da" Your baby squealed out while reaching out, recognizing Simon almost too fast even with the mask on.

"Pumpkin," Simon says as he takes your baby out of your arms and into his "–yeah, dada's here now. Missed me like I missed you?" Simon asks the baby as if they could actually respond.

The little one let out a happy little gurgle, hands reaching out for Simon's face.

"I'll take that as a yes" Simon tenderly kisses the top of the baby's head through his balaclava.

❥ Dad!Simon who loves baby hugs, the tiny little arms providing a bit of warmth while he holds his baby in his, rubbing their little head with his gloved hand and fingers.

Taskforce interacting with little Ghostie

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 1

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, definitely disordered eating, kinda depression?, isolation

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

He found her deep inside the House of Wind. Far enough from the festivities of Starfall that it was startling to find her.

The second oldest Archeron Sister must have wandered off just like he had.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Azriel asked her as he spied her sitting in a puddle of her skirts on one of the couches, staring at the empty fireplace.

“Why aren’t you?” Zahra gave back drily, not even looking up at him.

What exactly was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I can't stomach watching your sister dance with her mate? And even if I could stomach that, Rhys's mental commentary to him about it had turned his stomach. Even when Azriel had kept away from Elain just like Rhysand had ordered him to do, ever since last year. So really...what was he supposed to answer?

“Dancing isn’t exactly my favourite activity,” Azriel finally replied. It wasn’t a lie. 

"Yeah, well, mine neither," she answered with a shrug. "Not that I ever learned."

"You never learned?" he asked surprised. Nesta had learned. Elain had learned.

"Bastard, remember?" Zahra said drily. "I am lucky that I got to learn how to read and write and do basic math. I was not going to be molded into a perfect lady, because no self-respecting man would marry me anyway."

The blunt way Zahra was talking stunned Azriel momentarily. There was something harsh, something almost...bitter and resentful in her voice as she spoke.

It seemed like it didn't matter if one was born a bastard in Illyria or the Human lands. It was horrible either way.

"Your sisters will miss you," he said instead quietly. "And you'll miss the spectacle."

"I don't really care for the festivities," she said with another shrug. "I don’t like the holidays. Humans don’t have any. We… they are too busy trying to survive," Zahra corrected herself quietly. "And besides, I am only here anyway so I don't end up being an indentured servant until some of you decide that I am back in your good graces,” she gave back caustically.

He grimaced. That Zahra had vehemently disagreed about their treatment of Nesta was well known.

It had surprised him too because it was just as just as well known that Nesta seemed to not care for her half-sister on a good day. They weren't particularly close, in any way, shape or form.

Something in his chest clenched painfully. Not from the insult she threw in his direction, but from the defeated way she said it. That she thought that they would just…toss her aside like that.

She was one of them.

"We won't," he said firmly. Her eyes slowly turned toward him and there were dark shadows in those eyes. Out of all the Archeron Sisters, she was the only one with green eyes. Azriel wondered if she had inherited them from her late mother.

Zahra was only the half-sister after all. The result of her father’s dalliance with a maid. Her age put her somewhere between Nesta and Elain. 

It was easy enough to pick out the differences between Nesta, Elain and Feyre and Zahra. Dark hair similar to Elain’s, but green eyes. Skin a few shades darker than any of theirs. Lips that looked like Feyre’s but a nose that looked like none of her sisters. 

Zahra seemed to belong but didn’t. 

And right now, these green eyes…something was wrong. Something was off with these eyes. 

"You don’t know that," she said with a humourless laugh. "Do you want to lie to me too, and  tell me that Rhysand has nothing to do with whatever happened between Elain and you?"

Azriel stiffened, a low sound escaping his throat. She knew. She knew.

"How did you-" he croaked hoarsely and Zahra cocked an eyebrow at him.

 "Do you really think that I hadn't noticed the two of you dancing around each other for months? Or the fact that you two can barely manage to be in the same room together?" she asked dryly and Azriel averted his gaze.  "There is no one as beautiful and kind as my sister," Zahra said drily. "I don't fault you for falling for her."

Azriel said nothing, the pain in his chest growing at her words. The pain...and the bitter realization that his feelings were not as well-hidden as he had thought they were. 

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "She has a mate. She deserves better than me anyway."

"Did Rhysand tell you that too?" Zahra said drily. "You never tried to hide the fact that your mate was dying from the same, so you have that on him."

Azriel gritted his teeth, the pain in his chest becoming almost unbearable. "It doesn’t matter," he repeated firmly, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "Elain is happy. I would do nothing to put that in danger." 

"Yes, she is," Zahra agreed. "For what it's worth, I am sorry," she apologised to him, her voice honest.

Azriel swallowed, the pain in his chest lessening only to be replaced by something else. Something...much more complicated. Something like…pity.

He pitied her. This young female was so full of bitterness. He couldn’t even fault her for it either. She had been just a bastard. Even when they had first met the Archeron Sisters…Zahra had been working in the household as a maid. Half employee, half part of the family. Like their father couldn’t make up his mind what he should do with his bastard daughter. 

"You don't have anything to apologise for," Azriel finally told her quietly. "Do you really not want to watch?" he asked her. "You are supposed to wish for something when you see the stars fall."

She snorted, the sound bitter. "What I want, I am never going to get," Zahra said, her voice brittle.

He took her in in more detail at that moment.

The simple green gown she wore, high necked and long sleeved...that long gown that did little to hide how thing she was. The dark brown hair, pulled into a braid, obviously trying to hide the pointed tips of her ears and failing...the way her skin, darker than all of her sisters, was nearly ashen.

They had all thought that she was doing well. That Zahra at least was adjusting well.

But she wasn't. She wasn’t doing better.  She hadn't adjusted. Azriel would bet anything that all she wanted in her life was to be human again.

She hadn't adjusted. She just acted in a way that didn't bother anybody, that didn’t spell trouble for anybody.  Zahra had gotten herself a job, managing the accounting at an apothecary in the city.  She had gotten herself a little cottage to rent. She didn’t go out and get drunk. She didn’t use any money from Rhys or Feyre. She showed up for family dinners, staying quiet and polite. 

And if she was miserable…well, then nobody cared, because she didn’t bother anybody. Azriel could understand that. The same was the case for him.

Azriel clenched his jaw, watching her quietly sitting here. The way she was trying to hide away. The dress that was more like a potato sack than anything else. The way her skin was almost...grey. That bitter voice. 

The shadows were stirring and he was unable to look away from her. She looks upset, Master, they told him helpfully. 

"Do you want to go home?" Azriel offered quietly. Home to her cottage? Maybe some peace and quiet would make her feel better. 

Zahra shrugged, not looking at him. Not giving him an inch. That wall of bitterness and sarcasm was so firmly in place, that it was practically a solid wall between them. 

“Don’t want to end like an indentured servant, remember?“ she quipped drily.

“You won’t,“ Azriel said evenly. “You had a headache. I brought you home.“

She still didn’t look at him, her hands tightly knotted into her skirts as she sat there. She was so thin, almost fragile-looking. Her skin was sickly grey. “Come on,” he said finally, walking towards her.

Zahra finally looked up at him. Those green eyes. A bitter and lonely light in them. “What are you doing?“ she muttered. 

“I’m bringing you home,” he said simply, holding out his hand. “Come on, get up.“

Zahra looked at his hand, her gaze wary. “Why?“ she asked quietly. 

“Because you look like you are about to keel over,” he said, more bluntly than intended. 

“Gee, thanks,” she said dryly, her voice sarcastic and bitter. But she placed her hand into his own and let him pull her to her feet, even though he could feel the tension in her entire body. 

Azriel wrapped his arm around her shoulders, steadying her. “Come on. Let’s get you home and into bed,” he said firmly. 

He led her towards the balcony, the last few streaks of light painting the sky, and he grasped her tightly as they shout these few feet into the air until he could winnow to the cottage she rented. 

It’s ugly, the shadows complained. 

He had to agree with them. The cottage was an ugly little thing. Plain. Small. The type of thing that was more of a hovel in the outskirts, rather than anything else. 

“Home sweet home,“ Zahra said dryly, pulling away from him and a key out of her purse. 

That cottage was in serious need of some renovations when the red paint that was flaking off the door was anything to go by. 

As she unlocked the door it became obvious that while she kept it clean and neat.. even that couldn’t help much. This is a hovel, the shadows hissed.

Azriel was inclined to agree. He looked around with a frown, as the shadows scuttered around the tiny cottage. “You live here?“ he couldn’t help but ask. It was a terrible hovel indeed. 

Zahra shrugged as if she didn’t notice the disgust in his voice. “I couldn’t exactly afford anything else at first,” she said drily. 

At least not without taking any money from Rhys and Feyre, and clearly that was nothing that Zahra wanted to do. 

He was struck by how empty it all looked. There was a small kitchen space, a table with a few chairs a fireplace… And the door that led to her bedroom, he assumed. 

“How long have you lived here?“ he asked carefully, taking in the bare emptiness. There were no pictures on the walls. No trinkets and little belongings anywhere. It was…lifeless. She shrugged again and kicked off her shoes, making her way towards the bedroom. “A year?“

The room was equally simple and bare. A bed, a few clothes. A little bathing chamber. That was it. 

“You’ve lived here for over a year?“ Azriel repeated, his voice turning sharp as he looked at everything. There wasn’t even a mirror on the wall. 

When she just shrugged again, he was done. He grabbed her arm and towed her back into the main room. “Stay,” he ordered, pointing at the table and one of the two rickety chairs. 

“What are you doing?“ Zahra asked, raising both eyebrows at him. Her irritation had started to rise considerably. At least that had done something to the sickly colour of her skin. 

“Making sure you eat something before you pass out on me,” Azriel muttered, turning back into the kitchen area, looking around with a frown.

There was…nothing. His shadows reported as much. She literally had a few pieces of bread and some cheese in the whole house. He was more than fuming. That was not enough that she was living in…this hovel, she was apparently also starving herself.

He pointed at the chair again. “Sit,” he ordered a little sharper than he had intended. 

The glare she gave him did not surprise him. Zahra hated being ordered around. “No,” she said firmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not hungry.“

Azriel clenched his jaw, the anger flaring. How stubborn could she be? 

“You clearly haven’t eaten in days,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “You have nothing in your house to eat.” 

“I have what I need,” she retorted, her own anger flaring. Azriel gritted his teeth, the urge to snap at her almost overwhelming.

“You are skin and bones,” he hissed. “There is barely enough fat on you to keep out the cold.“ 

“Why do you care?“ she snapped right back.

The question hit him squarely in the chest. Why did he care? Why, he asked himself for a moment. Why indeed.

He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that it was just because she was Feyre’s sister. 

Thankfully, Azriel was saved from actually having to answer, when her stomach grumbled.

Loudly. Azriel almost chuckled at the sound of her own stomach betraying just how hungry she really was. “Clearly your body disagrees with you,” he said drily. 

“Shut up,” Zahra snapped, her skin flushing at the sound of her own stomach. 

“I will shut up after you’ve eaten something,” Azriel said firmly, folding his arms across his chest.

Zahra gave him a glare that could strip the paint from the walls, (but then, the paint was already flaking off anyway). Still, she grudgingly sank down on the chair, her eyes avoiding his. 

He turned back into the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers and found absolutely nothing. There was nothing. Not even some fruits or vegetables. 

He slammed the last cupboard closed, almost causing the hinges to break, the anger flaring hotly in his chest. That stupid, stubborn, stubborn woman.

“I will personally come here every day and stuff you full until you burst,” he snapped before he could stop himself.

“Why?” she asked and he could hear the challenge in her voice. Her own anger rose to meet his own. “Why would you even bother?“ 

“Because you are starving yourself,” he said, spinning around to face her. “Because you are so thin, I could snap you in half with one hand. Because I’m pretty damn sure you haven’t eaten a proper meal in at least a year. That’s why.“

“Maybe I don’t deserve a proper meal,” she shot back and something inside of him snapped at the tone in her voice. 

Because he knew that feeling. He knew. For just a moment he froze. They were far more similar than they should be. 

It was a terrible realization. He knew what the self-hatred and bitterness was like. He understood it far better than he wanted to.

“Nobody is going to suddenly show up and care,” he told her quietly. He saw her eyes flare at the words and he knew she got the meaning behind them instantly.

She sat there, her jaw tensed. “And what do you know about it?” she snapped, her voice bitter. 

“I know what it feels like to starve oneself,” he said calmly. “I know what it feels like to have not a single person notice or care.“

The words rang truer than they should. Her eyes widened for a moment, shock flashing through her. 

“I know what it feels like to be the one be always at the edge of the family. I know what it feels like for everybody around me to meet their mate but not me.“

The words slipped out before he could stop them. The pain he had buried so deep, deep down flaring up. The pain and loneliness and bitter realization that would never have what everyone else had.

He realized only then how much they really had in common. How similar they were. 

“I know what it feels like to be the afterthought,” he continued, unable to stop now. “I know how it feels to be shoved aside. I know how it feels to watch everyone around me find someone while I’m the one left behind.“ 

He took a step closer to where she was sitting, towering over her. “And I know how it feels to hate myself enough to deny myself the basic needs I actually have.“ 

The last words made her flinch. He was so close he could almost see the pain and guilt and bitter realization flit across her face. Her eyes were on her lap, her fingers wrapped around the edge of the table. 

“I know what it feels like to feel as if I don’t deserve to eat,” he said quietly. “Because I’m not good enough. Not worthy enough. Not deserving enough.“

He knelt down in front of her, forcing her to look at him. To meet his eyes. 

She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. He wanted her to see. To understand that she wasn’t as alone as she thought. “I know what it feels like to punish myself by not giving myself what I actually need,” he said quietly. 

Her breath hitched at the last words, her eyes widening ever so slightly. She was listening. Really listening to what he said.

“You’re not the only one who hates yourself, you know,” he said quietly. The look in her eyes shattered him. The look of realisation. Of bitter understanding. The realization that they were so much more similar than either of them had thought before.

Zahra bit her lip, the guilt flashing across her face. Her hands started trembling, ever so slightly.

“You don’t deserve to go hungry,” he said quietly, his voice firm and quiet. “You don’t deserve to starve yourself. You don’t deserve to live in this… hovel.

“The cauldron should just have killed me,” Zara said her voice brittle. “I don’t like this life.”

And didn’t that break his fucking heart? 

She laughed bitterly, but there was no humour in it. “I’m not even surviving,” she said, a bitter smile on her thin lips. “I’m existing. There is a difference.“ 

The words hit him hard. She was right. She didn’t survive, she just existed. There was a difference and a huge one at that. “Then stop just existing,” he said quietly.

His hand was still cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking gently over her skin. 

“Says the guy that just keeps moping around,” she quipped.

It was a low blow but also true. Azriel’s jaw tensed at the comment. “I don’t mope,” he bit. “I just..“

He didn’t really have a good argument in his defence at the moment. 

He sighed. “We should both stop rotting away,” he said drily.

“Yeah, well, that’s easy to you to say,” Zahra said and he could hear the bitterness in her voice. 

“Eat your cheese,” he responded.

She rolled her eyes and snatched away the slice of cheese off the table. “Happy now?“ she muttered. 

“Delighted,” he gave back drily, as he moved towards her fireplace.

“You don’t need to do that,” Zahra said quietly. “I can do that.”

“Considering you’ve been too starved to think straight, you are going to let me do this,” Azriel cut across her calmly. “You are more than likely to burn yourself.” 

“Don’t the flames bother you?” She asked him quietly. He froze.

Nobody else had ever asked him. They had just expected him to be over it by now. He had 500 years to be over it. His hands clenched.

“Yes,” he answered quietly. “They still do.” It was the honest truth. A truth he never told anyone before, least of all someone like her. The shadows curled around his shoulders and arms as if to calm him down. The flames still bothered him. They always would. “But I learnt to deal with it a long time ago,” he continued.

“That’s not fair to you,” Zahra said, her voice quiet. “You are always the one in discomfort. And nobody cares.”

Her words hit him square in the gut. It was true. It was painfully true. He was always the one being uncomfortable. Always the one on edge. It had always been expected of him to be over it by now, the pain and the hurt. The fear and the bitterness. 

He finished building the fire. Using a match to light it carefully, then closing the door quickly.

“I can deal with it,” he answered quietly. “You should go to sleep,” he advised her.

“So should you,” Zahra told him just as quietly. “You look terrible.“ He knew he looked like crap. But that didn’t matter. 

“I’m fine,” he muttered, brushing off her comment. Even though he knew it was a lie. Even though he knew they were both terrible at taking care of themselves. 

“You are a terrible liar,” she quipped. He looked at her and was surprised to see a tiny smile on her face. 

“And you’re a very stubborn, very stupid, very annoying woman,” he quipped back just as quietly. 

The smile on her face broadened the tiniest bit at the comment. “I could say the same about you,” she shot back. 

“Sleep,” he told her again.

And then he left that little cottage to get back to the House of Wind. He didn’t bother winnowing, instead, he shot up into the sky with one flap of his mighty wings. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

His mind was whirling as he flew back to the House of Wind. So much had happened in the last few hours and it was all still a lot to process.

He had always been good at keeping a rein on his thoughts and his emotions. But this time, he simply couldn’t. 

Zahra and him, always on the outskirts of their family. Ignored and expected to get on with it.

They were so similar in so many ways. It was shocking to realize just how much they actually had in common.

The loneliness and solitude he had come to live with, she had experienced herself. The pain and the bitterness, he could recognize it on her, for he had felt it himself. 

Where are you, Az? Rhys demanded at that moment mentally. Azriel would like to scratch out his eyes, but he didn’t.

I’m flying back to the House, he sent back curtly. Zahra had a headache, so I brought her home.

A headache, Rhys shot back incredulously. Azriel could almost see the look on his High Lord’s face. You really think I will buy that?

I don’t care if you believe me or not, Azriel responded icily, his temper rising already at the tone. It is the truth and I really don’t wish to have a discussion over it.

There was a pause in Rhys’ mind. Then a slight huff. You can be so unbelievably stubborn sometimes, you know that?

Azriel didn’t bother reacting to that.

Elain and Lucien are figuring things out. So keep away from her, Rhys told him sharply.

I am keeping away from her, Azriel shot back, irritation flaring. You really think I will go and ruin this for her?

I don’t know what you are up to, Rhys retorted, and Azriel knew the High Lord was irritated. But I really don’t have the time to deal with your crap right now. That’s an order.

Understood, High Lord, Azriel snarled back and he felt Rhys chuckle in his mind at the tone. I will keep away from your precious Elain, I promise. 

Damn right you will, he heard Rhys mutter in his mind and the mental connection between the two of them snapped close. 

Azriel snarled in irritation as he landed on his balcony and stalked into his room. It wasn’t enough that he was wrestling with his own emotions, No, he also had Rhys all up his ass about it. 

And he was infuriated about the whole thing.

Nobody will suddenly show up and care, he has told Zahra. It was the truth. Nobody would care.

They only cared as long as they got what they wanted from him.

Chip away the pieces they didn’t like. Mould him into a person they could stomach. 

Either it was Rhys ordering to keep away from Elain…or ordering him to behave around Mor and Emerie… and to be quite honest…Azriel was done.

It was always him that needed to bend to make everybody else comfortable. Nobody bends for him.

So many years of following orders, of keeping his mouth shut, of bottling up the anger.

Even when everyone around him was getting what they wanted. They got their happily ever after. And he was left behind.  Not once did someone ever realize that he was struggling. Not once did someone notice that he needed something…anything. That he was hurting and in pain. Nobody even bothered to check on him, to ask how he was doing. 

They all got what they wanted. Mor, Emerie, even Feyre. They all got the mate that they wanted. Rhys, Cassian and even Amren had Varian. 

He was the one always helping everyone else. Always the one having to endure everything. Never anything for himself. No love for himself.

Orders, commands, demands…that’s all it ever was. He didn’t get a say in anything. They just expected him to be fine. And if he wasn’t…he had to push through it. 

He was the tool that did whatever needed to be done. The spy that got the order to do the dirty work. The shadowsinger that just had to endure everything. 

All for scraps of attention.

Azriel was done.

He was so done. With everything. With everyone. With the one-sided affection that he had given in a desperate attempt to feel…something, anything…. 

He needed to stop expecting to get anything from them.

Zahra did not. She seemed to have given that up a very long time ago

The cold realization that they had been doing the same to her hit him. She was also the tool they used when they needed it. She may not be a spy, but they used her just the same. Expected her to be fine. 

She was alone just as much as he was. 

Alone and isolated, an afterthought to their family just as much as he was. 

***

It was quiet in the little cottage. 

Peaceful. 

Comfortable.

Sie should be happy. Or at the very least…she should be content, should she not?.

Zahra had a roof over her head. And if she wanted to…she could afford food.

Her job didn’t pay that well, but it wouldn’t leave her starving. She just wasn’t hungry. She seemingly never was.

That was a lie and she knew it. Deep down she was hungry all the time. She just refused to give in to eating. She refused to listen to her body screaming for sustenance. It didn’t matter, anyway. Nobody cared.

She didn’t care.

Something inside her had broken during her bath in that cauldron. Her humanity had burned away and with that…with that everything Zahra had ever wanted.

She didn’t crave anything anymore. Not love. Not affection. Not attention. Not food. It was all gone. All she felt was numb. 

Cold, empty and numb. Like her shell had hardened and frozen over.

She had never thought it was possible to feel so damn tired without having done anything. 

Zahra forced herself to get up. Forced herself to heat some water on the stove… to make tea. The cheapest tea she had been able to find at the market.

It wasn’t the best. The taste was bitter and the color was more brown than black. But it was tea and she was thirsty enough to drink it.

It wasn’t very warm and left a bitter aftertaste on the tongue. Like her life itself. 

Maybe just dying would have been easier, she reflected bitterly. Was this how eternity would feel? Alone? Tucked away in this cottage? 

All her sisters had been given a mating bond. They had been given another person who loved them unconditionally…that was at their side. That wanted them around. That wanted to spent time with them. 

And then there was her. 

She had been closest to Feyre during the years in that cottage. Nesta gave her the fault for seemingly everything htat had ever gone wrong in her life, though Zahra privately thought that for Nesta, Zahra was just the evidence of another of her father’s failings…Elain…well, Elain was more embarrassed than anything about Zahra’s very existence. But Feyre…well, Feyre hadn’t cared. And so Zahra had tried to dote on her as much as she could. 

And then clearly she had been replaced in Feyre’s affections. 

She didn’t fault her for that. 

Feyre had made her own life. And she had every right to do that. She was busy with her mate and her son and Mor was her best friend and…there was seemingly no place for Zahra there. 

Which was fine. 

It was. 

But if Zahra was completely honest with herself…she was unspeakably jealous of the mating bond of every single one of her sisters. 

Of that promise of at least one person that would be on her side, come Hel or High Water. 

Clearly, something was wrong with her that she hadn’t been given a Mating Bond.

She wasn’t worth a mate. Clearly, something was broken inside her. Otherwise, the cauldron would have given her a mate, right? 

Maybe she was broken so thoroughly that nobody even wanted her. 

Why would they? She was a shell of a person, a ghost of the woman she was supposed to be.

She was cold, empty and numb. Everything that nobody could possibly want. 

Everyone else got a mate, love and happiness. Not her.

She had nothing.

Her hands clenched around her lukewarm cup of tea. 

Some random sparks of light sparked against the mug. A gift from the cauldron. They didn’t seem to do anything but warm whatever they touched. Maybe that was that random power the cauldron had given her. Neither future or death…but…warmth. She supposed it was something.

She wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, and she had never bothered telling anybody about it. 

Sometimes she allowed herself to play with them when she couldn’t sleep. They were strange and utterly useless. 

It wasn’t the power of foresight or the power of a death god…no. She had the stupid power to create sparks. Useless sparks of light. 

Oh well. 

Complaining about her sparks wasn’t going to help her either. 

So she pulled out her work and sat down to do her work as the sun came up and the day went on. 

Zahra balanced the account ledgers for one of the apothecaries in Velaris. Which meant she had a whole box of receipts to sort through and put into said ledger.

One receipt at a time, one name after the other. 

It kept her busy. It paid well enough. She seemed to have some kind of aptitude for it…maybe the fact that her father was a merchant had come through for once. 

She worked until the late evening. Until her eyes couldn’t concentrate on the numbers anymore.Until her back and shoulders ached with pain. She stretched her shoulders back. 

She wondered if she should eat something. Her cheese was gone, thanks to Azriel standing over her until she ate it…but she still had one or two slices of bread, didn’t she? 

She could go food shopping…buy another bread, another chunk of cheese tomorrow. 

Then Zahra heard a knock on the door. 

Confusion spread through her. Who would knock on her door at that very late hour? It was after 9 pm already. 

She got up, walked towards the door and opened it carefully.

It was the last person she would expected to be standing on the front porch. Azriel. 

“I am making you dinner.“

Her eyes widened at that announcement. “You are what?” she asked him dumbly. 

He just gave her a deadpan look and pushed past her. “I am cooking dinner because I am assuming that you haven’t eaten yet,” he told her plainly. 

It was true. Zahra hadn’t eaten a proper meal in god knows how long. But why did he care?? “Why?” she blurted out. “Why do you care if I’ve eaten?” 

He gave her a sharp look and pushed her towards the kitchen chair. “Sit down,” he simply ordered and she was too taken aback to protest against it. 

He had brought his own ingredients. His own knives, all tucked away in a little basket that he put on her countertop. “Can you peel potatoes?” He asked her as he rummaged through it. 

She could just stare at him. 

“Who do you think cooked the meat Feyre hunted?” Zahra replied drily.

Azriel froze in the process of digging something out of the basket on the counter. “You can cook?” he asked her and she heard the surprise in his voice. 

Zahra let out a snort. “Yes, I can cook,” she retorted. “What did you think I was doing this whole time in the cottage? Twiddling my thumbs?” 

He shrugged. “Honestly, I had no idea what you were up to,” he told her truthfully.  “I thought you were as useless as Elain and Nesta were at that point,” he admitted.

“Nesta did all the cleaning and hacked the wook,” Zara corrected him quietly. “Elain mended. I cooked. Feyre was the only one who hunted. And yes, we should have done more, but I did help run the household. The only one who never helped was our father.” The bitterness bled into her voice at that. 

There was a long pause after her admission. Then Azriel exhaled. “I guess I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am,” he muttered. “You don’t strike me as a pampered useless damsel.” 

“Thank you for that assessment, Shadowsinger,” she quipped back. “I will make sure to remember it when I need a pick-me-up.” 

He put a sack of potatoes in front of her. “I take it I’m peeling potatoes,” Zahra murmured, staring at the sack that was in front of her.

“Yes,” Azriel confirmed in that no-nonsense voice of his. “While I prep the meat. I do hope you like rabbit,” he added drily.

“Oh good,” she muttered, grabbing a knife and started to peel away at the potatoes. “Did you hunt it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice neutral. Zahra bit back a snarky remark and focused on the potatoes. 

They worked like that in silence. Him preparing the meat, her peeling the potatoes and the carrots.

It was odd. This whole thing was odd. Sitting and cooking with Azriel. She hadn’t even known he could cook. 

And yet…it was comfortable. Like the silence wasn’t awkward and neither of them felt the need to break it. It was a comfortable domestic kind of silence. Like they had done this a thousand times before. 

“How are you with spicy food?” Azriel asked her after he had taken the potatoes from her. 

Zahra blinked in surprise. “I have a pretty good tolerance, why?” she asked, curious. 

“All the food I can cook is Illyrian,” Azriel answered drily. “I learned from Rhys’ mother and later from my own. It’s spicy.”

“I can handle a bit of spice,” she assured him. “It should be fine.” He nodded in response. 

The sound of the fire crackling in the stove and him stirring up the meat were the only sounds filling the kitchen as they continued their work. 

Zahra honestly had no idea Azriel could cook. He didn’t seem like the type of male who spent time cooped up in the kitchen, making meals. It was a little surprising. 

And yet, the scents of spices and rabbit were filling her kitchen right now... It smelled almost heavenly. 

She hadn’t smelled something as heavenly in a long time. And her stomach growled in response to the delicious scents of food. Zahra tried to remember when she’d last eaten something actually decent, but she couldn’t think straight. The food was distracting her.

“You look half starved,” Azriel observed in a deadpanned tone and she snapped her head up only to find him looking at her. 

His eyes were focused on her, a frown playing on his forehead. “When was the last time you actually ate something properly?” he asked her, his voice firm. 

She averted her gaze. “I don’t know,” she muttered, looking away from him and to the pot bubbling on the stove. “Maybe a week ago?” 

He was silent for a moment. “That long?” he asked her, his voice carefully neutral. She just shrugged in response to keep herself from admitting that she actually couldn’t remember exactly. 

He poured hot, thick stew into a bowl for her and then put it in front of her, holding out cutlery for her to take. “Why are you doing this?” Zahra asked him weakly.

“Because I wish somehow had done it for me,” Azriel responded

That simple statement made her blink in surprise. It was not an answer she had been expecting. She bit her lip, not really sure what to say. 

And then he simply said. “Eat. You look like you’d blow away at the slightest breeze.”

She should have been angered by that blunt statement, but somehow she wasn’t. 

So Zahra ate.

The food tasted incredibly good. She had to admit that the Shadowsinger was talented with cooking. The food was spiced just perfectly, hot and filled with flavour. 

Every bite made her realize just how incredibly hungry she was. Her stomach filled slowly and the hunger abated with every spoonful. It was like her insides started to come back to life. The numbness was slowly disappearing, replaced by an odd sort of warmth flowing through her limbs. 

"Thank you," she finally said weakly.

Azriel just nodded at her, watching her eat. “Of course,” he murmured and continued with his own food.