#lightning's writing

[saixria]

Somewhere in Apollo’s hospital on Olympus

[mournfulroses]

Margaret Randall, from her poetry collection Ruins: Poems; "Blood Lightning Speaks,"

[mydairpercabeth]

The scenes of Luke training Percy were so expertly written. He wasn’t just training Percy, he was actively recruiting Percy. He fuels Percy’s anger and mistrust of the gods. He didn’t even need to alter how Percy saw the gods because he could already see the resentment Percy had of his dad, mirroring his own. He was absolutely sure he had Percy on his side but he didn’t account for one thing, Percy’s fatal flaw. Percy’s loyalty to his family and friends supersedes all else. Luke can’t betray Annabeth, almost kill him, Grover and Annabeth, put his mother in a dangerous position, and then expect him to be on his side. That is where he fails.

[sirazaroff]

I love the way you draw it is so amazing. Especially your Glinda and Elphaba they look so cute 😍🫶🫶

Thank you so much!

MY CUTIES ✨ They’re such goobers <3 I wanna draw them more often but I’m all over the place with work lately. Bit by bit I’ll be back to help carry the gelphie message 🫡

[agencyboys]

it feels like i just got hit by a truck with this... i'm just thinking about how Edwin is running from the red lights of Hell and Charles is running from the blue light of tranquility... and yet they're always running alongside each other

i hope you see where i'm going with this because i don't have the words for how romantic this is

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in a Bottle - Chapter 5

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

ANGST, vomiting, Mention of the death of Mama Archeron

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Nesta could remember one time…the first winter they had spent in that godforsaken cottage…were Feyre had been so sick with fever, that Nesta had thought Feyre was going to die. 

It had reminded her eerily of her mother’s last days sick with Typhus…of the swelling scent of sick, the bright red cheeks and otherwise pale, clammy skin…

And she also remembered how she had behaved abhorrently. 

Eira had been the one taking care of Feyre. Their father had been useless as always. Nest had spit and snapped and Elain had…well, Elain had pretended like Feyre wasn’t a step away from dying. 

Elain was good at that. 

Eira had stoked the fire…Eira had made a bed out of blankets and pillows in front of it for Feyre…Eira had cooked soup and spooned it in their sister’s mouth. Eira had gone and begged their neighbour for her recipe for a cough medicine…and had then poured that down Feyre’s throat a well, cleaning up the vomit when Feyre threw it all up. 

Eira had done that. 

Eira had always done all of that. 

She had taken care of them all in these years in that cottage, had somehow managed to make sure that they all had two dresses to wear and that one was always clean…had managed to grow misshapen vegetables in that tiny patch of garden they had. If she hadn’t, Nesta was sure that they would have starved throughout one long winter. 

Eira was the second-born, right after Nesta. And somehow…while Nesta had always taken care of Elain…she had never done the same for Eira. 

Had never needed to. Eira had always taken care of everybody around her. 

Even now…She was still taking care of them all in her own ways, had gone out of her way to see Nesta every week, regardless of what Nesta had thrown at her head…took care of Nyx whenever Feyre asked, rocking him to sleep…helped Elain in the garden. 

And Nesta quietly wondered if anybody ever took care of Eira. 

Of Eira, who laid in her bed just like Feyre had done then…Pale and glowing with fever, covered with Azriel’s shadows, who did everything they could to preserve her modesty. 

She wondered what…wondered if he had given them that order. Or maybe they were self-aware enough to do it for themselves…

She wondered if it gave her sister any form of comfort from that, through that fledgeling mating bond. 

“If you show her naked form to him, I’ll burn you to crisps,” she hissed at the shadows who just ignored her. 

Rhys sat silently and unmoving, his face blank, chiselled in granite and Nesta swallowed at that. 

Maybe he could take some of the pain from her. Eira didn’t deserve the pain. 

Eira deserved nothing of this. 

Why had it been her? 

Why Eira? 

Why Eira, who had been turned into a fae just like Nesta and Elain had? And while Nesta had raged and Elain had spent weeks in that state between alive and dead, once again needing Eira to spoon soup into her mouth and take care of her…Eira had just…existed. 

And Nesta had taken it for granted. Had figured that maybe if one didn’t have the silver flame of death eating you alive from the inside out or have visions of death and destruction…maybe then it was easier to adjust to a new strange body, a new strange world. 

No mate for Eira either, a small mercy as far as Nesta was concerned. 

But the one thing she had noticed…it was that regardless of how well she seemed to adjust, Eira clung to whatever smidge of humanity she could dredge up. 

Starfall was something she hated, even when she never said anything…and when Nesta had her phase of going out and drinking every evening, Eira had one time and one time only come knocking at her apartment door, brought her food and then proceeded to ask her haltingly if this was what she wanted. If she didn’t care that her husband wouldn’t be her first. 

Eira and her romantic ideals of the future. 

Eira had clung onto that through anything. Her sister wanted a husband and children and that was that. He didn’t need to be particularly rich. He didn’t need to be anything other than kind. Eira would have been more than willing to be a farmer’s wife, to spend her days doing backbreaking labour if that meant…If that meant that she got a husband and children.

That was the difference between them. Nesta had been her mother’s prized possession. Elain her beauty. And Eira…well. Silent. Content in the background. Overshadowed by Elain’s beauty. 

It wasn’t like Eira wasn’t pretty on her own…wasn’t like that if she was given the chance, she couldn’t make polite conversation, once she had overcome her shyness…that she wouldn’t be able to keep a house running better than Nesta and Elain would have ever been able to. 

But none of that…none of that had mattered in the land of Prythian. 

And now this. 

Her little sister, lying in that bed, fighting for her life, because she had protected Nyx. 

Eira, who was clumsy enough that nobody had trusted her with a knife, because chances were, it was more likely that she would stab herself and not the other person. 

Eira, who abhorred violence and fighting and just wanted everybody to get along. 

Eira, who was sweet and soft and made dresses, little fingers dancing over fabric, stitching and tying off and embroidering and knitting, whose hands were always doing something…and if she wasn’t making something, she was cooking or canning or doing any other household tasks…now she was still.

For once in her life…she was not moving. 

She was just laying there, covered by shadows in a ripped and hastily torn apart dress. 

Nesta couldn’t fix this. Could fix none of this. 

Couldn’t fix Eira fighting for her life…couldn’t fix that mating bond that…

What would Eira think? Eira, who had fallen in love and tried to hide it so desperately and failed so horribly…what would she think about the mating bond snapping for Azriel? 

Would she be happy? Delighted? 

Or feel that this was one step too far from her humanity, one step too far from…

Nesta didn’t know. She had never talked with her sister about the mating bond or the lack of it for Eira…They had never talked about what had gone on between Azriel and Elain…though a part of Nesta had waited for Eira to find herself somebody else to fix her attention onto. Waited for Eira to realise that…that it was never going to happen.

Now though…she wondered if the mating bond hadn’t been there for her sister already. A pull that made it impossible for her attention to be changed to any other. 

She would be fine. It would be fine. It needed to be fine. 

It wasn’t fair that Eira, Eira was the one who…

It wasn’t fair that this had happened now. Now, when the mating bond had snapped and it seemed like her sister could get everything she had ever wanted…

And if there was a man that Nesta was going to trust with her sister, with Eira in all her sweetness and softness…then Azriel…then Azriel, it would be. 

Nesta couldn’t fix this. 

But maybe she could fix the dress…maybe she could…

She let go of her sister’s lax hand, as she stood and walked over to the closet. She opened it, half expecting a whole flurry of gowns to fall out. 

After their wealth had been returned to them, then in the Human Lands…Eira had stocked up all their closets with many new dresses and clothes. 

She had made most herself, of course, keeping the cost down to where it was an indulgence but not outright ridiculous. 

Nesta had expected the same now. Instead, with a blink, she weakly realised that she couldn’t have been more wrong. 

There had been the dress that Eira had worn today…and then there were 4 more…all of them dresses that Nesta could weakly remember Rhysand purchasing for them in these first few weeks in the House of Wind...a pile of dresses from which Eira had taken and fitted them to Nesta and Elain both, changed sleeves and necklines until they were exactly like they had wanted them to be. Eira had taken the leftovers...the ones neither Nesta or Elain had wanted. 

Nesta hadn't ever thought about it before today. There were servant girls who had more clothing than Eira seemed to have. 

And none of these dresses were decorated with the embroidery that was her sister’s trademark…the embroidery that decorated hair ribbons given to her sisters for birthdays and other occasions…that decorated the hems on Elain’s gardening dresses that turned muddy anyway. 

Eira's own dresses were well-loved, mended in places, threadbare in others. Of course. They had been well-loved for the better part of 3 years now. 

One dress was new. Nesta could see that. Beautifully grey, with long sleeves cuffed at the wrists and mother-of-pearl buttons. Beautiful. Simple. Heavy silk. Reminding Nesta of human fashion much more than the one of the Night Court. 

Going through her drawers didn’t make this any better. Nesta found aprons…but once again, a far cry from the aprons with floral embroidery around the edges that Elain favoured…and then sometimes in between old, well-loved things, meticulously taken care off…There was a pair of new shoes, leather and a closed with a crystal-embellished buckle. 

Such an indulgence that Nesta couldn’t help but smile and bite back the tears that threatened to overcome her. 

But that dress and that pair of shoes…it was one of the few things that truly showed her sister’s personality…

Finally, Nesta found her nightgowns…picking one up, made out of white cotton, with buttons down the front, that maybe would make it easier to dress her without hurting her. 

She took the nightgown and returned to Eira’s side, the shadows not having budged an inch. 

“Can you help me?” she asked, wondering if they even could understand her, or if they only listened to Azriel…

They understood. Immediately. They became nearly opaque, shielding Eira from Rhysand’s glance if he opened his eyes…and then so very carefully, arranged her sister in a sitting position so Nesta could remove the scraps of the dress she wore from her, see the white bandages tinted with red that Maja had used to protect the wound…

Eira was limp, unprotesting…against the gentle grip from the shadows that arranged her limbs so Nesta could easily undress her, and then fluttered around to help her pull the new nightgown over her sister’s body. 

The shadows pulled the covers back from the bed, and Nesta stared in admonishment as they lifted Eira up, becoming solid underneath her…nearly levitating her off the bed, so that they could quickly put fresh sheets on the bed, could tuck her underneath her duvet and fluff her pillows for her…take care of her, quicker and more thoroughly than Nesta would have been able to. 

The shadows picked up a hairbrush and whisked it to Eira’s side, brushing her hair until it was clean and free of tangles…pulling it back into a braid, tendrils of shadows trailing over her face…nearly lovingly. 

It must be Azriel’s doing. 

Nesta had never seen the shadows…dote on anything like that. She had seen them, rarely, top up Azriel’s teacup, but even that seemed to be an occasional thing. But for Eira…the shadows seemed to be at her very beg and call. 

Just yesterday she had raged at Cassian, that this didn’t mean that Azriel had any right to Eira, not when he had tried to pursue their other sister the year before. 

Now…after she saw this…it was…startling. 

She mulled it over silently. Eira and Azriel…the more she thought about it…the more she wondered if they didn’t fit together so well… Both so happy in the background, so painfully polite…so kind.

She picked up her sister’s blood-flecked dress, folding it with shaking hands…then picked up the petticoats she had worn. No blood on these. 

Nesta hadn’t seen any in her closet, so maybe Eira kept them in the chest at the end of her bed? She would just put them there…She opened that cedar chest and the cotton skirts were quickly forgotten, by what lay within it. 

The first thing she saw…were glittering silver flames. 

Nesta could just stare. 

There, safely folded…laid away…was a dress. 

She couldn’t help herself. Couldn’t help as she picked it up, hands nearly magically pulled towards it. 

Shaking it out…

A deep, dark red bodice…a v neckline…just deep enough to be interesting…peaked shoulders, not unlike the ones on Cassian’s fighting leathers…and then the skirts…layers upon layers of grey silk, embroidered painstakingly with silver flames that seemed to flicker in the light. 

It was the most beautiful dress that Nesta had ever held in her hands. 

And it was….she didn’t need to try it on to know that it would fit her like a glove. 

This dress…Eira had made this dress for her. 

She carried it over to her chair in a trance, smoothing it over her lap…seeing every single tiny stitch it had taken to bring it to life. 

It was perfect. 

She was ripped away from staring at it, with Rhysand’s sudden wretching, her head snapping towards him. 

“Fuck,” he choked out as he stopped vomiting. 

“Are you sick?” she demanded. “What if you get Eira sick, you idiot!” she seethed, but he held up a hand, vomit already being banished with nary a thought of him, as he looked at her, violet eyes…darker and…tortured in a way she had never seen it before. 

And then his eyes fell to the dress draped over her lap. 

“Eira made that for you,” he told her hoarsely, shuddering nearly “She…”

What had happened to him? Was Eira’s pain so bad that even Rhys couldn’t stand it? Was it…

“What happened?” she asked him sharply. “Is she in pain?”  

“Her mental shields are nonexistent right now. She dragged me into her memories,” Rhys answered, another shudder working over his body. “It was…unpleasant.”

That seemed to be an understatement. 

Nesta stared at him, grey eyes wide, red hot anger shooting through her. 

“So what, you just wanted to rummage through her mind?”  She snapped. 

“This was an accident. I did not do that on purpose,” Rhys shot back. “I wouldn’t have…”

“She has a right to her privacy!” Nesta raged. Hadn’t Eira already lost enough? Hadn’t they all lost enough?! 

“She does,” Rhys agreed, scrubbing one hand over his face.“She has a right to privacy. As long as it does not interfere with...”

“As long as it does not interfere with what?” Nesta demanded. “Your plans?” 

He stared at her, violet eyes wide and…hurt. 

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with her safety and happiness,” Rhys corrected quietly. He stared at the dress draped over her lap. “It’s a wedding dress. She made it for you,” he said with a nod towards it. 

A wedding dress? Why had she never…why had Eira never even mentioned it’s very existence? Why had she never…

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Like make another ugly dress?” Rhys quoted, his voice quiet, deathly even. "Sounds familiar?"

Her breath caught in her throat. 

No. No. No, Eira couldn’t…Eira had taken that to heart? Eira had taken to heart what she had spat in her anger and desperation? Eira had…

“If it makes it any better…There was worse said by all of us,” Rhys said, looking away. “Every single one of us.”

What?

“I have news,” Amren’s voice suddenly came from the doorway. She stood there, Madja, behind her, obviously having come back to check on Eira.  “The lightning that was used to fell the three Darkbringers? The magical signature was unmistakingly female.” She nodded to Eira. “I think she finally decided to be interesting.”

The anger that flared in her chest was so bright and hot that it had taken her breath away. 

Rhys beat her to it. 

“That’s enough, Amren,” he spat out. “We need to have a talk.” 

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

a ghost in my lungs, a ghost in my mouth | buddie | explicit | 84k | read on ao3

happy birthday to my darlin @spaceprincessem

Buck is soaked to the bone. Skin puffy. Neck and chest lacerated by the cruel touch of lightning, as if it’s still contained within him and not eager to let him go. His curls are matted. Eyes charged but also vacant, like he is looking through two planes of reality and can’t focus.

Awful. Beautiful.

Eddie wants him to go away. Eddie wants him to stay. Eddie wants to shout at him until he wakes up. Eddie wants to forget this horrifying, pale version of his best friend, the man he loves. Eddie wants to touch him, make him real and whole.

Buck takes a single step forward and Eddie’s breath collapses in his chest.

He thinks Maddie is saying something, his name maybe, but it’s so muffled and distorted, and it doesn’t matter, not when Buck with his sad sad eyes is opening his mouth and saying, “I’m trying.”

or, in the aftermath of the lightning strike eddie is haunted by buck's ghost

AO3 link

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

So, that deja vu fic got me thinking.. and what if katsuki has a childhood friend (obvi friends w deku too) where he is always trying to impress her and class 1-a notices or ( if you’d like them older ) the agency notices and starts betting on when he’ll confess to her. turns out, she actually confesses first and everyone is happy (and slightly disappointed… nobody got their money) 😋😋

Also, when i saw the notification “@cashmoneyyysstuff started following you” i have never hit a follow back button so fast 😭🫶

Remember you’re amazing, take care of yourself, drink water, stay safe, and know that you are loved ❤️

bet on it, bet on it !!

there's definitely something going on between you two, and your classmates are determined to figure out when it'll finally happen

a/n: WAAAA @itzjustj-1000 this is soo cute ! especially since katsuki being a loser n tryin to impress us instead of just confessing is honestly adorable. ALSO ALSO ur LITERALLY THE SWEETEST !! ur the loveliest it's a given i had to follow u !! i tried to honour ur request as best i could, i hope you like it ! also say it w me yall: WEEWOOO WEEWOOO CHILDHOODFRIENDS TO LOVERS ALEEEEEERRTTT(yall r forcing my hand atp (not that im complaining tho))

fem reader, katsuki is a whipped little loser, katsuki likes getting praised by reader but acts like he doesn't challenge (fails miserably), kaminari n sero are little shits, m*neta (he doesn't say anything creepy don't worry <3) everyone is in their 2nd year in this one. lemme know if i missed something else !

for as long as izuku midoriya could remember, you and kacchan have always been a packaged deal.

deku remembers all the way back in primary school, how kacchan would bend over backwards to impress you, spending his days trying to win your praise like he was collecting it. whether it be showing off how good his reading skills were, or showing off his newly acquired quirk to you at any given chance. (away from the eyes of the teachers, of course)

or even with silly things. like the time he showed you how long he could hold his breath underwater. it didn't matter, as long as he could show it off to you, he would.

deku remembers how pride would fill his childhood friends face, cheeks practically glowing and a smile basically reaching his ears. a simple "woooah, you're so cool kacchan !" had the boastful blonde giddy for the entire day, chest puffed out as he walked ahead of everyone, with you right next to him, of course. (you were the only one worthy enough to stand by his side after all)

and though he spent his time trying to win your praise, he also needed your attention constantly. katsuki constantly demanded your attention. he's the only one who's allowed to sit next to you in class, you're always the one he picks first when it's time to pick teams to play dodgeball. he's your partner for every project and you're the one who walks beside him when you and your friends go venture out in the woods to go out on your adventures. and even though they would usually take place in the park, katsuki always claimed he'd be the one to protect you if anything were to happen.

as kids, deku was probably the only one who noticed how hard katsuki tried to impress you.

and he's probably the only one to notice how he still does it now.

"sooo...kacchan totally has a thing for yn, agreed ?"

"mhm. definitely."

"yup."

"'m suprised you just noticed that now, kaminari...actually i'm not really suprised." jirou drawled, twirling one of her earphone jacks around her finger.

okay, so apparently he isn't the only one who noticed.

kaminari pouts "i noticed ! i noticed, like, ages ago !" he huffs into his folded elbows on the desk " i just wanted to see if you guys did !"

"you'd be stupid to miss it." sero cuts in smoothly. their grouchy homeroom teacher somehow ended up absent, leading to an impromptu free period. which in turn caused for loads of gossip he had somehow gotten roped into. kirishima, kaminari and sero were talking about you and katsuki, happily chatting off about something they couldn't hear from where they were sitting.

"maaaannn, bakugou's way too lucky, scoring such a pretty girl. what's he got that i don't ?!" kaminari whines. kirishima shushes him lightly, afraid to rouse the attention of a certain blonde they just so happened to be talking about

"now that i think about it.." sero wondered, leaning onto kirishima's shoulder "midoriya, you guys are childhood friends, right ? have they always been..." he cuts himself off, pointing over at you both with his chin for midoriya to look back. ".. like that ?"

you're chatting about something that's apparently funny or exciting, with katsuki listening along attentively, his head resting in his palm like he's admiring you. his full focus entirely on you, as it usually was.

you're using your hands a lot while you're talking and deku recognizes it as the thing you do when you've gotten to the juicy part of the conversation, deku almost wishes he could listen in, then remembers it's not good to be nosy and shakes the thought away. every once in a while katsuki interjects with a subtle smirk on his face and his remarks have you either giggling or playfully pouting at him unable to hide your smile. the playfulness in his heavy lidded red eyes remains at any reaction you give him, though. kacchan's worked on his poker face over the years but it seems he can't control himself when it comes to you.

izuku realizes he's been openly staring for too long and quickly turns back to look at sero who raises an eyebrow, awaiting a response.

izuku chuckles to himself "yeah, pretty much." he hums, playing around with the ends of his tie as he speaks.

"oooouu~" kaminari sings, suddenly lifting his head up from where it was hidden into his shoulder with a sudden burst of energy, startling kirishima. "juicy details about kacchan, i'm in !"

"i don't know if it's exactly 'juicy'" izuku sweatdropped, chuckling awkwardly. "but kacchan and yn have always been really close. when we were younger, kacchan would always be seeking out yn's attention. he'd be really possesive..or protective over her, i guess ?—it was all pretty harmless though." he recounted, smiling softly at his childhood memories nostalgically pouring into his mind.

both kirishima and sero let out quiet hums when he finishes while denki simply pouts "s'not as juicy as i thought it would be" he huffs petulantly, receiving a knock on his head from jirou who hisses a "he told you that, idiot"

kirishima places his head into the palm of his hands and sighs dreamingly "man, that's so cute. bakugou's been a major softie for yn for so long.." he clenches his fist and izuku thinks he sees a little tear in his eye "so manly !" he exclaims through his sharp teeth.

"yeah, i don't know if 'manly' is the word i'd use to describe someone who's been whipped for so long and still doesn't have the balls to confess" sero ribbed, snickering to himself with denki joining in shortly after.

"hey, don't be assholes !" jirou shot "i think it's kinda cute y'know ? not really..manly..but—cute." she said.

"how much you wanna bet he's not gonna confess until graduation?" kaminari challenged.

"wouldn't put it past 'im." a voice suddenly chimes in. the five of them all turn their heads left, right then down at the voice that came from none other than mineta, who had somehow wormed his way into the conversation.

"and what the hell do you think you're doing sneaking into our conversation, freak" jirou sneers, glaring down at mineta who had already dragged his chair over, including himself into the group.

mineta decides to ignore jirou as he places his arms onto the desk seriously like he's imitating some type of mafia don. " bakugou's never gonna confess any time soon, he's too much of a pussy" he waves off nonchalantly "i bet he won't even have done it by the time we've finished school ! "

" and i bet you wouldn't say that to his face !" kaminari guffaws and the purple haired boy sputters. izuku can't hold back his grin as he watches them bicker.

" kacchan's always been pretty..sure of himself" he settles "i don't think it'd take him that long to confess" he guessed, pressing his thumb onto his chin "though maybe the fact that he's so sure of himself could hold him back.."

ah, there he goes again.. the rest of them thought as they watch midoriya babble on and on into theory land.

denki suddenly slams his fists on the desks, startling everyone. he sucks in a breath "alright ! i bet a thousand yen and the entirety of my lunch box that bakugou won't confess by the end of this year !" he exclaims, not too loud but loud enough so everyone in the group could hear him.

"oooouu~ what're we betting on ?" mina chimes in, suddenly appearing behing jirou and in turn startling her. she flashes her a little glare causing the pink haired girl to offer a weak apology and a hug.

"kaminari just bet a thousand yen and his lunch that bakugou won't confess to yn by the end of this year" sero smirked, clearly enjoying the drama

" ou, that sounds fun ! lemme join in too !" the pink skinned girl pleaded giving her best puppy eye and pout combo.

"sure ! just don't come cryin' to me when you lose" kaminari agrees, playfully jabbing at his friend.

"this is so stupid. i'm not betting money on this.."jirou scoffs rubbing at her temple. "c'moooonnn, don't be chicken, jirou ! " denki whines

"mhmm, c'moonn jirou give into peer pressure !" mina joins in, wrapping her arms around the purple haired girl and swaying her side to side.

jirou groans before finally conceding "..five hundred yen. that's all you're getting from me." she concludes sourly crossing her arms.

" i'm gonna go with kaminari's and say his balls won't drop 'till graduation" sero says simply, smirking almost mischieviously at the display of sudden chaos. he looks a little too pleased, izuku sweatdrops.

"i'm not betting on my bro, that's so unmanly." kirishima refused " i say just let them go at their own pace" he finishes, receiving a nasty look from his chaotic classmates.

needless to say kirishima gave in to peer pressure soon after, offering a modest 1,100 yen by this summer for his friend to confess.

"well i stand on what i said, i don't think he has the balls to say it at all. and i put that on all the money in my pockets ! " mineta proudly spoke.

"how much is that, like, one fruit roll-up ?" mina deadpanned, not missing a beat causing the group to erupt in laughter. mineta's objection's falling on deaf ears.

meanwhile, katsuki notices you've stopped talking all of a sudden. it takes him by surprise as you were so into it a minute ago. "what's up ?" he asks. his question snaps you out of your trance and you jump slightly, turning back to look at him "oh , nothing ! they just seem to be having fun " you gasp, a smile crawling up on your face as you look back at your friends having a good time.

katsuki on the other hand has a slight pout forming on his face, displeased at how his loud mouthed friends distracted you from your conversation. and from him he thinks, but that makes him feel like a snot nosed little kid again and his expression turns even more sour.

"tch. the fuck are those losers so loud for" he grumbles under his breath. you catch it though, and you giggle. his eyes brighten and his brows unfurrow the slightest bit when he hears it.

"don't be such a buzzkill katsu, s'not their fault you're no fun." you jest, chuckling to yourself when he scowls at you.

"fuck off ! m'not a buzzkill" he rolls his eyes, huffing indignantly "an' i'm plenty of fun" he finishes grumpily. you laugh a little more, covering your mouth with your hand when you catch a peak of him narrowing his eyes at you making fun of him. he simply rolls his eyes and sighs, shaking his head. he'll let it slide, he always does with you.

"right, right. my apologies, sir dynamight" you chuckle, bowing slightly at him, he huffs out a laugh "that's sir lord explosion murder god dynamight to you" he snorts. you throw your head back and laugh and katsuki feels the same pride he used to feel when he'd found something cool to show you back when you were brats. his stomach feels fuzzy and his head feels clouded the way it used to when you'd offer him your big, bright sparkly eyes and a "you're so cool kacchan !""

god, it never failed to remind him how much of a whipped loser he was for you.

and unfortunately still is.

you scoot your chair a little closer to his and katsuki has to use all of his might not to blush at the sudden proximity, as miniscule as the distance between you both was to begin with.

"well okay then, sir lord explosion murder god dynamight" you say rapidly, laughing to yourself. katsuki let's out a breathy chuckle, it's cute. he's cute. " i'm sure it doesn't mean much, but i at least think you’re plenty fun to be around"

katsuki feels his heart skip a beat too many.

you whisper, like it's a secret. you're in your own little corner while all your classmates are chatting away yet you say this to him like it's something between you and him. batting your eyelashes up at him. god, it's like you're out to kill him and honestly katsuki thinks for a second he wouldn't mind dying by your hand.

he's such a whipped loser.

he can't think straight. you're sitting so close to him, you're lips are glossy from that lip gloss you always have on you. you smell nice, katsuki feels like a creep for smelling you like you aren't a breath away from him.

"yeah, well.." he utters lowly. he licks his lips, feeling himself grow dizzy as he watches you watch the movement intensely and swallows. his adam's apple bobs and he can feel himself blushing like an idiot. " i don't think you're all that bad either" the end of his sentence comes out a little breathy, he barely realizes he's speaking. like his body is deciding for him, he doesn't mind much.

you give him a sweet little smile and your eyes shine like stars and you look up at him like he's everything, like he's the coolest. he wants you to look at him like this all the time.

you suddenly lean in and kiss him, right next to his lips, just at the corner. it lasts for about 0.3 seconds but katsuki feel his entire body exploding from the inside like he's let off his quirk onto himself.

"i take it back actually" you start " you're super cool to be around,kacchan " you whisper bashfully. katsuki huffs out a little laugh once his heart had stabilized itself a little bit, a small smile growing on his face—

" AW MAN? WHAT THE HELL ?!"

you both turn to the sound of your electric classmate, sporting a little pout on his face. proceeding to get dog-piled on by your other classmates surrounding him, causing him to let out whines and moans of complaint.

"i-ignore him !" mina waves off nervously "just keep doin' what you were doin !— i mean, we weren't watching or anything !" she splutters.

"nice one." jirou deadpanned sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "look, we don't mean to pry or anything, but who kissed who first ?"

at that, katsuki's cheeks flare up, turning a damn near violent shade of pink. he's about to yell obscenties at his classmates, about to tell them it's none of their business when-

" i did !" you giggle, a cat-like grin on your face

"you sneaky fuckin minx-" katsuki growls, shoving his index fingers into your sides and you let out a squeal mixed with a giggle. you're quickly drowned out by your classmates releasing a group groan, with sero and kaminari yelling and booing at katsuki, who in turn starts threathing them, his hands crackling and popping.

you don't exactly know what's happening, but you can't help but feel extremely joyful and happy.

"soo.." mineta starts "since i said bakugou wouldn't confess first doesn't that technically mean i-"

" IN YOUR DREAMS ! "

[f1version]

LIGHTNING MCUTE ★ CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x girlfriend!reader (she/her)

summary: You are still obsessed with Charles as Lightning Mcqueen, Charles is still obsessed with you. Here’s how that goes.

note: this is so chaotic, sometimes full crack and sometimes pure fluff

part two of the life is a highway series ★ next part

joris__trouche’s insta story

yourusername’s insta story

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 835,826

yourusername baby photo dump ❤️🩵

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landonorris the pics were not loading and I THOUGHT YOU HAD A BABY?????

yourusername WTF LANDO

charles_leclerc YEAH WTF LANDO I WISH

yourusername CHARLES DON’T PUSH HIM

yourusername’s insta story

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 1,245,018

charles_leclerc Got a new car before Barcelona! ⚡️

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pierregasly pretty cool charles

landonorris 💍💍💍????

charles_leclerc Please stop

carlossainz55 CABRÓN‼️

yourusername It was the best day of my life

yourusername Family car ✅

yourusername’s insta story

joris__trouche’s insta story

yourusername • Barcelona, Spain

Liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 976,825 others

yourusername Ferrari red? This is KACHOW-red (sorry scuderiaferrari)

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scuderiaferrari Ferrari red? Who is that? I just know KACHOW-red! ❤️

charles_leclerc KACHOW-ingly cute

yourusername in the 5 years of our relationship, that is the best thing you have ever said to me.

charles_leclerc it’s not but whatever you say mon amour

carlossainz55 How has Ferrari not banned you?

yourusername extortion.

yourusername’s insta story

INTERVIEW — SPANISH GP

charles_leclerc and yourusername

Like by lewishamilton, scuderiaferrari and 2,752,917 others

charles_leclerc Forever ❤️

tagged. yourusername, joris__trouche

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yourusername Forever 🩵🩵🩵

yourusername guys the box WAS the lightning mcqueen one, just saying

charles_leclerc AND it was custom

yourusername And it was custom, with our names engraved on the inside (he’s very proud of it)

[tinyetoile]

I drew this for a timeline thing for my original zelda story but TBH that's coming along pretty slowly and this is funny enough to post on its own.

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

*rolls up 15 years late with Avatar the Last Airbender thoughts*

So I've been rewatching clips from the show lately to refresh my memory while I'm writing my Zuko Alone fanfic. And last night I rewatched the clip where Iroh teaches Zuko how to redirect lightning and I have had thoughts about this scene for years so I might as well finally throw them into the void of tumblr.

So, this scene is insane to me, because at the end of learning how he could-hypothetically- redirect lightning, Zuko looks at Iroh and, completely seriously says "okay I'm ready to try it with the real thing now". Like, Zuko, the boy with a massive scar on his face from where his father burned him just looks at his uncle and says, "shoot me with lightning".

And yes, he's 16 and not thinking but that's part of the point because the amount of blind, complete trust Zuko has in Iroh to look at him and say "shoot lightning at me" after the insane trauma he had at the hands of his own father- that is WILD to me. Zuko literally trusts Iroh so much that he just assumes, without even having to think about it, that no matter how volatile and unpredictable the lightning is, Iroh won't hurt him because Zuko cannot fathom his uncle hurting him.

And of course, Iroh's appalled because Zuko's standing there with a massive scar on his face from when his father misused firebending against him and likewise, Iroh cannot fathom hurting Zuko. And since IROH knows how volatile and unpredictable lightning is and how it could literally kill his son nephew he is absolutely NOT going to use it just to let Zuko practice redirecting lightning, but he's so flabbergasted that Zuko would even ask him that that he just kind of splutters angrily that he will ABSOLUTELY NOT shoot lightning at Zuko. (it's also just another layer of how messed up Ozai is because he shot lightning at Zuko without a second thought later)

But I hope Iroh thought about it later and realized the amount of pure, unthinking trust Zuko has in him because ;-; the child didn't even THINK about it. "Okay uncle shoot lightning at me now. I know I'll be safe because it's you." I love them so much 😭😭

[mediumgayitalian]

i keep seeing sad posts talking about "may castellan making sandwiches every day waiting in hopes that her son will return" and.

guys.

there is no hope for may castellan. she is not waiting at the door with lunch and a tentative smile, waiting for him to come home even though he didn't yesterday, or yesterday, or yesterday, or yesterday. "in hopes" implies that there will come a day when that hope fades. in hopes implies she knows the odds are bad. in hopes implies reality will eventually catch up to her.

there is no hope for may castellan.

she is not waiting in hopes for her son to return. she is preparing, day after day after day (after day after day after day after day after) for the inevitability that luke will return to her. she does not know he is dead. she does not understand he is gone. she does not realize that time has passed; to her luke is nine, still. to her she is still placidly awaiting to return of a fourth grader. luke is not nineteen and betraying his camp. he is not twenty and housing a titan. he is not twenty one and watching his friends get slaughtered in an arena, twenty-two and forcing his sister to hold up the sky, twenty three and realizing, soul shuddering in his chest, that he has made a mistake he can never take back, that he can never undo what he has done.

luke castellan to his mother is a child who has not yet lost all his baby teeth. the cookies she makes for him are soft, because she remembers that. he still leaves the crust behind on his sandwiches. he has scrapes on his elbows and dirt on his nose. he flinches before he hugs her. he spends a lot of time outside, but he comes home before dark.

may castellan's tragedy is not that she is penelope waiting for odysseus to one day return and we know that he will not. may castellan's tragedy is that she does not understand her hero has left at all. may castellan's tragedy is that she will never understand, and she will continue to age, and continue to deteriorate, and one day she will die and she will spend eternity walking the dying poplar fields, whittled down to the memory of something missing from her.

there is no hope for may castellan.

[mydairpercabeth]

I would've worshipped Athena forever that way, in silence.

Then he came

And I felt like he saw me in a way l'd never been seen before.

[maximura]

[feketeribizli]

the type of vibes retired monty brings to the paddock

based on this pic of nico rosberg... continue pushing my lightning mcqueen is nico coded agenda 😁

my beautiful post here i just needed to have these side by side. by nico coded i firstly mean looks but i have a long list... dont ask tho i wouldnt be able to elaborate

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in a Bottle - Chapter 6

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

ANGST, Elain bashing, Visions of the future, also probably no update tomorrow

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

“It will be fine,” Cassian told him. 

Again. Cassian had already told him that multiple times. 

He had washed his mate’s blood from his hands…from underneath his fingernails. Eira’s blood. All over his hands. Literally and figuratively.

“Azriel,” Cassian said quietly, once again, trying to get him to give him something. “She’ll be fine. Madja is the best at what she does. She managed to save my wings. That poisoned knife was probably nothing more than a nuisance for Madja.”

A nuisance? The shadows hissed sharply. Our mate took a poisoned knife between her ribs nearly to her heart! And he says it’s just a nuisance?!

“I should have taken that knife,” Azriel whispered. 

He should have taken that knife. Him. 

Not her. Not Eira. Not…

“Azriel,” Cassian said quietly. 

“I should be the one,“ he insisted. “It’s my fault.” If he had just told her the day before. If he had just been there…if they had pushed that meeting at the Court of Nightmares…maybe if…

“How is this possibly your fault?” Cassian asked with a sigh. “Rhys asked you to wait, did he not? Wouldn’t that make it his fault?”

It wasn’t Rhys’ fault. It was on Azriel. Azriel’s mate was lying there, fighting for her life and he could do absolutely nothing to make this easier for her. At least Rhys could try and take her pain away…but Azriel? 

“Quite frankly, the fault is with Keir,” Cassian said quietly. “He was the one who wanted to kill Nyx. Eira was just collateral damage.”

What?

“She’s not just collateral damage,” Azriel growled, his hand twitching to Truthteller's hilt without even thinking about it. 

Eira wasn’t just a thing, wasn’t just a number, wasn’t just a…

Cassian seemed to realise how badly worded that was, but Azriel was already so fucking angry. 

“Az,” Cassian said quietly, holding up his hands. “That’s not how I meant that. I only meant that she was that for Keir.”

“She’s my mate!” Azriel spat out. His mate. 

Even when he didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve to even look at her after what had happened. 

“I know,” Cassian said quietly. “I know, Az.”

He reached out hesitantly, clasping Azriel’s shoulder…jostling him with his wing…Trying and failing to ground him in the here and now, when all Azriel could think about was the feeling of Eira’s limp hand against his lips, the scent of her blood, the grey pallor of her skin…

“Amren is back,” Cassian said nearly thoughtfully, but Azriel ignored that, going back to staring at his hands, at the gnarled scars that covered them…the absolutely ruined scar tissue that covered them and made them look like they belonged to a monster. 

How…How in the world had the Mother thought it to be prudent to mate him to Eira? To Eira with her milk-pale, freckled, perfect skin…the epitome of a lady? 

How…

Rhys’ mental voice snapped through his mind at that:  *Dining Room. Now.*

He didn’t sound…Rhys sounded angry. 

Something had happened. 

It took less than a minute for them all to find their place in the dining room, Nyx upstairs with the wraiths, probably the only non-members of the Inner Circles that Feyre and Rhys would be willing to let near Nyx for the foreseeable future. 

“Do you want to tell us what exactly your problem is?” Amren asked, crossing her arms and Rhys stared at her, violet eyes sharp. 

“My problem?” he repeated, his voice velvet soft, betraying the anger that lay beneath it. “Amren, your reaction to Eira laying in her bed a few hours after being stabbed is that she’s finally turning out to be interesting!”

What? 

The shadows swirled tighter around him, a hissing running through them. They had never trusted Amren in the first place and right now that…that was just strengthening their stand. 

“She is finally turning out to be interesting. I have never heard of anybody controlling lightning,” Amren defended herself with a roll of her eyes. 

What? 

“Eira controlled lightning?” Cassian repeated, the question he also had. “Eira?” 

She did, Master, the shadows agreed. She was sublime. 

Lightning. She had controlled it? Like Nesta controlled the Silver Flames of Death? 

“Eira killed these males?” Feyre asked, sounding shocked. 

“She completely magically exhausted herself in the process,” Rhys agreed with a sigh. 

“I didn’t think she would ever…be able to do anything,” Mor admitted quietly and his hands turned into fists. Anything? Eira did a lot of things that neither Mor nor any other member of their family could do.  

“We’ll need to train her,” Amren said. “She has…untapped potential.”

“No,” Nesta snapped, quicker than he even could open his mouth. “You are not doing this to my sister. Eira does not want to be a soldier.”

No. Eira…Eira liked things soft and gentle and not…she didn’t want to fight. And nobody would make her do that as long as Azriel was alive. 

“We’ll talk to her, she’ll be…reasonable,” Amren said with a shrug.

“No, you won’t. I won’t have it,” Nesta hissed. 

“Nesta…” Feyre said quietly, thoughtfully, but Nesta cut her off. 

“The first time you killed a deer and she prepared it for dinner, she spent three hours crying hysterically in our back garden afterwards,” Nesta snapped. “I am not letting you take this from her.”

He hadn’t known that. There were so many things that he didn’t know about Eira…so many questions he had never gotten to ask her, so many questions that just…

“She already killed three males,” Feyre said quietly. 

She had. Though Azriel thought that killing in pure self-defense was something different than going into a fight and knowing that you would kill. Two very different mindsets. 

“Which just proves my point, she’s dangerous,” Amren agreed. 

And he was done. 

“So am I,” Azriel snapped. “You are not turning Eira into anything she doesn’t want.”

“She would agree,” Amren said with a roll of her eyes. 

Of course, Eira would agree to that particular request. 

“Of course, she would agree. She always just tried to make everybody’s life easier!” Nesta snapped, slapping her hands flat onto the table, as Cassian reached out to soothe his mate and she ignored the hand he carefully placed on her arm. 

“This is not up for discussion, Amren,” Rhys finally said evenly. “Eira is terrified of you. You are not going to request anything from her, because it wouldn’t be a request.” He sighed. “And that’s not what I wanted to talk about either.”

“You don’t want to talk about Feyre’s sister suddenly being able to summon lightning and having killed three elite soldiers in the process?” Mor asked with a snort. 

“Would you stop it?” Nesta asked, her voice sharp. “She’s not just Feyre’s sister or Azriel’s mate. Eira is her own fucking person!”

It was biting and razor sharp and Azriel swallowed. 

She was right.  Nesta was right. Of course, she was. 

“Nesta is right,” Rhys agreed, something that made everybody at the table sit up straight because these words were exceedingly rare. If not nearly unheard. Rhys and Nesta agree…it must be dire. “I would like to talk about the fact that Eira has spent the last 3 years so fucking miserable that that being pulled into her mind made me throw up…because it’s a neverending repeat of her feeling worthless and useless and like she’s not allowed to take up any room.”

What? 

What?

Eira had felt like this? His mate had felt like this?!

When had she felt like this? How? 

He watched Feyre’s blue eyes fill with tears…watched as she stared at her mate. 

“She hasn’t said anything. Why wouldn’t she say anything?” Feyre asked, her voice shaking. “Rhys?” 

“Because we gave her absolutely no reason why she should trust us, Feyre Darling. None of us,” Rhys answered with a sigh. “Her shields are nonexistent. I wasn’t careful and she dragged me into her memories. By the time I finally got to pull myself out, it already had been…”

“I didn’t do anything to her,” Mor said, crossing her arms. 

“So you didn’t say that as far as cauldron blessed went she’s useless? And you didn’t say that while at dinner, where we all heard it, or and we all laughed?” Rhys cut her off sharply. “Do not absolve yourself of the blame, Morrigan. This is on all of us.”

What? Had he been there? He couldn’t remember. he couldn’t….this had happened and he couldn’t…

It happened, Master, the shadows hissed. More happened too, Master. None of you have done anything to make her feel welcome or appreciated in…months, if not years. She has cried often. 

“Show me,” Feyre demanded at that moment. 

“She already lost enough of her privacy.” Nesta’s disagreed, her voice frosty. Azriel watched that particular match of minds carefully. Did he...

Yes. He wanted to know. He needed to know. What had he done? How badly had he fucked up? 

“Show me,” Feyre repeated.  “If she’s angry, It’s my fault. I’ll take her blame,” she told Rhys fiercely. “But show me, show us…when…”

Rhys sighed, but when he looked at Feyre, and Azriel watched the moment where he must have placed Eia’s memory in Feyre's mind as she clasped her hand in front of her mouth, her eyes welling over with tears. 

He looked over to Mor, who just nodded…then Amren, then Nesta…then Cassian…Azriel watched his brother steel himself, and then the way his expression crumbled. 

He felt Rhys’ mental touch against his shields…*Az…Are you sure you want this?* Rhys asked and he just… 

*Yes.*

The memory was dropped into his mind. 

Blue velvet box. Winter solstice. 

Pearl Earrings. Beautiful. So beautiful. 

But for her…for her useless. Her ears weren’t pierced. 

He hadn’t even noticed that. It hurt worse than even his smiles at her sister. 

He had brought her a gift…but it wasn’t a gift that she could use, no gift that…no gift that was special to her…no thought behind it…jsut an item on a list to be checked off. 

Something for Eira. Beautiful and Impersonal and…

No attention paid to her. 

She didn’t deserve his attention. Never. 

But she wanted it. Just once…

Please, Please, Please, Please…

Azriel’s hands turned into fists. 

He remembered these earrings. Of course, he did. 

Each consisted out of one round diamond with a perfect oval pearl dropping from it. 

He had bought them for Eira. Had picked them out in fact. Had thought that they were…modest but elegant…simple but beautiful…that they would suit her so well. 

And he had only bought them after he had asked Elain what Eira would like for Solstice. 

And Elain had told him…had told him that Eira wanted earrings. That she had been thinking about having her ears pierced. And of course, Azriel hadn’t thought closer about it then…Neither had his shadows. They had believed Elain. 

Believed Elain’s pretty words. 

“You lied to me,” he spat out, his words so sudden, so menacing that it made everybody stop in their tracks…the shadows reached out, lengthening and he tightened his hold on them as he fixed Elain…beautiful Elain with his hard green eyes. 

Elain who always acted so soft…so sweet…

But she had done this on purpose. 

“What?” she squeaked out. 

“You lied to me, Elain,” he repeated, his voice hoarse with anger.  “I bought Eira these earrings because you said she wanted them. I knew that she couldn’t wear them. I knew her ears weren’t pierced, but you told me she wanted to do that, so I bought them for her. And instead, she thinks that I never cared enough to notice that about her?”

“Cauldron,” Rhys breathed. 

“Why?” Azriel bit out. Elain stared at him, brown eyes hard, lips pursed. 

“Does it matter? It’s Eira.” She spat out the words. 

And he had enough. 

So had the shadows. 

You stupid girl, they hissed, for once so loud that everybody could hear them, everybody flinching away from them. Of course, they did. 

“They can talk?“ Feyre asked, her voice small and shaky.

“On very rare occasions,” Cassian answered quietly. “Circumstances must be…exceedingly dire.”

And they were. 

This was about Eira. 

“What exactly is your problem?” Azriel growled. What was this about? Where was this coming from? He had never noticed any kind of…tension between them. Not from Eira at least. 

So why was…

“It’s Eira,” Elain said like that explained everything. 

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Nesta asked her voice, icy. “Do you think Eira doesn’t deserve Azriel?”  Nesta asked, her silver eyes fixing on her sister…the sister she had doted on…protected so thoroughly…and now…now they were on opposite ends. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course, she doesn’t,” Elain said with a roll of her eyes. 

It was so quiet in the room that one could have heard a pin dropping. 

“How can you say that?” Nesta challenged her sister, her voice violently even. “This is Eira. Your twin sister. What has she ever done to you?!”

And then the anger in Elain’s eyes seemed to boil over. 

“She doesn’t deserve him!” Elain snapped “What has she that I don’t? I am the pretty one!” It poured out of Elain and Azriel could just watch in horror. “I am the one that’s supposed to marry for Love and Beauty! She’s…she’s useless!”

“Useless?” Nesta interrupted her sharply. “Feyre and Eira kept us alive, Elain! Feyre hunted, yes. And Eira…Eira did the rest, Elain!  She cooked and she cleaned and she did the laundry and her fucking potato patch was what made sure that we didn’t starve on more than one occasion!” she growled. “You liked to pretend that it wasn’t that bad but it was!“

“I can’t listen to this,” Rhys said quiet. “Your sister did everything so that you could survive. Your sister spent her whole life taking care of you… You were gifted with a sister that loved you so fiercely, that would do anything for you...and you treated her like this? Your sister spent the last few years suffering. Because of things we said, things we done. I am not absolving any of us of that blame…but you…you did this on purpose…” Rhys stared at Elain and Azriel saw the minute blink, the way Elain’s hands tightened on the table…”I just wonder why?”. 

And he knew that Rhys had just gone into her mind… And then there was a thunderous expression on Rhys’ face. Without a word, he poured what he had gotten from Elain into Azriel’s mind…

A vision. 

A vision from a cauldron-blessed Seer. 

And he stared at it, his heart plummeting. 

Elain had seen this and still…still tried to drive Azriel and Eira apart. 

She had seen this vision of the future…of Eira…of Eira with a little girl in a garden, no older than maybe three…a pair of Illyrian wings sprouting proudly from her back…the girl's hair the exact shade of her mother’s hair…her eyes unmistakenly Azriel’s…freckles covering her face…Both of them kneeling in the mud, dresses sprinkled with it, and not a care in the world as they pulled carrots from the ground. 

And then Azriel watched himself land in front of the two of them, a smile on his face and lean down to press a kiss to Eira’s lips. 

She smiled at him…so incredibly happy as he picked up the little girl, settling her on her hip…and then the basket of vegetables…and then he helped her up and he watched as one of his scarred hands settled possessively on the slight swell of her belly. 

It was like somebody doused him in icy water. 

How dare you? the shadows hissed, flinging themselves at Elain, who screamed, as they wrapped themselves around her, nothing gentle about their touch. Do not ever…ever come near her again. Do not even look at her. You are not going to hurt her again. Ever again. And if you do…you will regret it. She cried over you. For hours. And you repay her like this?!

He didn’t know how he wrestled them back under his control…how he got them to not outright slaughter Elain right there…

He didn't know how. Because he wanted. Because he...

*Azriel, it's alright,* Rhys breathed into his mind. *It's alright.* But it wasn't. Because Elain...Elain had tried to stop this future from ever happening. Had tried to stop his children from being born. She had tried to take this from him. This perfect slice of happiness...of his very own paradise. 

His daughter. His mate. 

“I…I do not think that the Night Court is the right environment for you anymore,” Feyre said, her voice shaking and Azriel’s gaze snapped to his High Lady, the tears that tracked down her face. 

“You are sending me away?” Elain asked, sounding utterly aghast. 

“I’ll ask your mate to come fetch you, Lucien… you may remember him as your fiancé,” Feyre said pointedly. 

“I am your sister!” Elain snapped. 

“So is Eira,” Feyre gave back, crossing her arms. “And only one of you has tried to destroy the other.”