#Before the light

[replenaryindulgence]

Before the Light: Chapter 2

Azriel x Calida (ka-lee-duh)/Reader

Summary: Calida wakes up disoriented, her captors' intentions unclear. As she learns more about the world around her, her path home becomes more uncertain.

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: alcohol

a/n: Now we're getting into ittttt. I'm so excited to see where this fic goes. I love leaving things open-ended. can you tell lol? This series is based in my mind right after ACOSF, hence the tension between Az and Elaine. How would you react if you were Cal? I tried to put myself in her shoes & not in the shoes of someone familiar with the world (P.S. there are probably typos, I'm rereading it as we speak & I'm on the lookout lol plz forgive me)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The throb at the base of your skull echoed to your temples. Groaning, you pulled the blanket up further to hide from the flickering light. 

Sifting through your thoughts was like trudging through molasses; the events of the past day came reluctantly. The bite of the early morning air, the laughter that echoed over the lake. The pain in your head grew sharp and you rubbed circles trying to ease the pressure. Moments flashed in your mind. Toes in the water, the burnt taste of instant coffee on your tongue. The gleam of silver water through the trees as you ran. 

It all hit you suddenly, dizzyingly; the forest, the strangers. You shot up. A wave of nausea had you clutching the stiff cushion beneath you. You took deep, burning breaths, forcing it to pass. For long moments you sat like this, taking careful glances, afraid to move too quickly. 

The room was dimly lit. A small fireplace crackled before you, the light sharp in your eyes. The smell of rotting wood and smoke hung in the air. To your left was a door; the wood gnarly and weathered. The whole place was. There was little furniture; a small work table sat to the right of the fireplace, at the end of the bed a large armchair. The dark material glittered slightly in the firelight. It looked out of place, less subjected to the elements. There was nothing else — no one else. No light peered through the small windows. 

The door flung open, the tall man with the stern face from the forest entered carrying pieces of wood under his arm. You heard the thudding of your heart in your ears. He didn’t speak. In three strides he hovered over the small work table. That’s when you noticed it, barely illuminated; the dagger at his side. 

He spoke and you met his gaze, blinking through the panic as he held out a glass of water. You couldn’t move. He sighed, setting it on the stool next to the bed. Your eyes trailed him as he sat upon the small stool by the fire, stoking it with another piece of wood, keeping it alive. He looked over his shoulder and gestured to the glass, repeating the unfamiliar phrase. Your tongue felt like cloth in your mouth but the fear held you frozen in place.

He stood once more and walked to the table, searching through a small bag. The thud of chopping filled the cabin and you watched as he added ingredients to a small black pot. Several minutes passed, your gaze fell to the glass of water and you gave in to your thirst. The water streamed down your chin, dampening your collar. 

“Where am I,” you choked out, voice sounding like you’d swallowed gravel. You knew he couldn’t understand. “What did you do to me?” 

You tried to form a plan. It was dark, this place was unfamiliar. Your face heated. Your friends. They were probably scouring the woods looking for you; you had to find them. You reached into your pocket.

They’d taken your phone, your watch. Everything. 

You tried to stand, or make for the door, but whatever they’d done to your head had the floor shifting beneath you. You couldn’t make it back like this. You sat back, leaning on the wall for support. ”Please,” you begged, though you weren’t sure what exactly for. You couldn’t make it three miles, not like this. You watched as the man hung the pot over the small fire and took a seat before it. He finally looked to you, and you held his stare. A minute passed like this, the two of you silent and unwavering. 

His attention turned back to the fire, stirring the pot slowly, and you closed your eyes in defeat. Your mind led you through every twisted possibility. 

When he spoke again, you found a wooden bowl sitting on the stool by the bed. He sat, watching you, his own bowl in hand. Your stomach snarled. You waited for him to take a bite. You looked at the stew inspectingly; vegetables peeked out of a thin broth. You brought it to your nose. He muttered under his breath. You hesitantly took a bite. It didn’t feel safe, eating what he’d made, but the aching in your head persisted and you’d do anything for it to stop. 

You weren’t sure if it was just the hunger, but you’d never tasted anything like this. You barely swallowed before taking your next bite. Unfamiliar spices stuck in your nose. Setting the bowl aside you noticed the refilled glass. You reached for it, this time taking small sips as you settled against the wall, cautiously surveying the cabin once more. The only exit was the door, the windows were too small for you to fit through. You’d have to wait for him to leave or to be distracted, but you weren’t sure you could outrun him. You felt hopeless; you hadn’t outrun them before, when they wore those ridiculous wings. Maybe if you cried enough he’d let you go from annoyance. You tried to recount what exactly happened in the woods. All you could remember was the fear, and the pain. 

The man walked over to the stool, grabbing the empty bowl. You watched as he moved through the space. He made his way to the end of the bed, settling into the armchair. You clutched the glass tightly as he fidgeted in his seat.

“I need to leave,” you gestured toward the door, pronouncing each word, though it’d do no good. “My friends are out there looking for me,” you patted your chest, ”just, please,” you were begging now, tears burned your eyes, “let me go.” 

His head fell back onto the chair in dismissal. The tears that fell were hot. Panic filled your veins, taking over as you leapt up, but he was quicker. He slammed a fist to the door, blocking it. You stumbled back, legs hitting the cushions.

“Move,” you forced out. You pointed to the door again. He shook his head, this you understood. 

“Yes.” You seethed.

He shook his head again and spoke a single word. ‘No’, you assumed. He pointed towards the bed.

You repeated the word he’d said to you. He shook his head, amused, avoiding your resolute stare. You tried for the door again, but he grabbed your wrist. That’s when you noticed — his hand. It was covered in scars. Both of them were. They rippled in silver and pink swirls of raised skin. He tore away his grip, crossing his arms. He stared past you with a cold gaze. 

You fell backwards onto the bed, dragging yourself to the corner. He set the stool down with a loud thud before the door. His head fell back, eyes looking vacantly through the room. Your head mirrored his, leaning on the wall for some sense of support. You were stuck here — at least for the night. 

…

You’d gotten little rest. You kept yourself curled up to the wall uncomfortably, eyes on the stranger. He never moved. You weren’t sure if he slept either. You’d spent the night contemplating every terrible scenario until your lips were puffy and your eyes swollen. You were thankful when the fire died down and you were able to cry in the cover of darkness. Exhaustion eventually took hold of you.

You woke abruptly as a loud knock sounded. Lifting your stiff head, your eyes squinted in the light as your captor stood, cracking his neck as he reached for the door. The man that grabbed you in the woods appeared beneath the frame. Your heart began to race. 

He took a step in, ducking, as he looked at you with a small, tight smile. He handed over a small satchel. As they spoke, you listened to the words with intense focus, searching for familiarity. Their demeanor was casual despite the situation. The second man had taken off his wings too. They wouldn’t have fit into this cramped cabin, anyways. He rubbed the back of his neck, and turned to look at you. The muscles in your body stiffened. He took a step toward the bed and crouched. 

Holding his hand to his chest he spoke. You stared at him. ‘Cassian’, he repeated gently, patting himself. His name? You looked between them, the other man stood back with his arms crossed. This must be some ploy to try and gain your trust. The man before you hit the other and gestured toward you. He rolled his eyes, stating his name. You repeated it and his eyes shot to yours. 

The man before you nodded with a kind expression and gestured to you encouragingly. You took a breath. If you played along, played nice, maybe you could persuade them to let you go. Maybe this was some big misunderstanding, you let yourself hope.

“Calida,” you stated quietly. 

‘Calida,’ he repeated, standing. He spoke a quick word to the scarred man before turning back through the doorway. He hesitated, nodding to you once more before disappearing and shutting the door tightly behind him. 

That’s it? 

Where was he going? Were they letting you go? You tried to stand but your captor moved before the door. It was useless trying to argue with him. You were a prisoner. You sat back, staring at the door, at the light peering in through the curling wood, visualizing your escape over and over in your mind.  A bird chirped, pulling you from your angry haze. Light poured through the small windows, illuminating specks of dust. You watched despondently as they floated freely around you.

…

You weren’t sure how much time had passed. You’d been given water and more soup. It had been simmering over the fire and tasted even richer than it had the night before. The man left the cabin, taking guard just outside as you relieved yourself in the tiny bathing area covered only by a thin sheet. You scoured the place for a weapon before he returned, but cursed when you found nothing. He must have taken the knife he’d used for dinner. He came back in as you were reaching for the small bag near the armchair and were met with a scowl.

Perhaps your body had run out of anxiety, or perhaps your stillness had fooled it into peace as you sat, legs crossed, watching through the small window as the day passed. As birds and small animals roamed and sang through the forest, and the light filtered through the trees. You heard movement outside just as the door swung open. 

The man with the violet eyes entered, his companion, Cassian, just behind him. No sign of the woman. “Calida,” he spoke, tilting his head toward you. You held your legs in a failed attempt at comfort and prepared for their next move. He reached out and set a small object on the stool next to you. A ring. You looked at him confused, but he only gestured to it. 

You hesitantly reached for the ring, holding it in your palm. It was a gold signet with three deep green stones in the center. Dull metal and shallow scratches showed its age. They watched you silently, expectantly, so you slid the ring on your hand, finding its place on your pointer finger. You twirled it with your thumb.

“Now what,” you spat.

”Now, we find out if this was worth the hassle,” the violet-eyed man spoke, his voice clear and familiar. Your eyes went wide.

”Seeing as to how it went last time, I’m going to have to rely on your candor,” he continued. Your mind ran wild, a million questions on your tongue. ”How did you find yourself in these woods?”

”These woods?” You questioned through the shock.

He raised a brow. 

“I… I’m camping near the lake with a group. I went for a run and… got lost. They’ll be looking for me,” you threatened. 

“You’re not a human spy sent from Autumn with a mind full of riddles to throw me off of your trail?”

“I… what?”

He squinted at you, assessing as he’d done before.

“These are public lands."

“These are Night Court lands.”

Night Court? Reservation land was miles East from where you camped, and none of them were called the Night Court; there was no private land.

“You can’t keep me here, this is kidnapping—“ 

“These woods aren’t safe for you,” Cassian interjected, his voice even.

“I ran three miles without trouble, I can make it back just fine,” you argued, your heart in your throat. “So what, you think you’re locking me away for my own safety?” You mocked.

“Yes,” the man with the violet eyes began, “we are. You are not supposed to be here, and the more you can tell us, the better the chance we have at returning you.”

Returning you? Nothing made sense. 

“How can you understand me?” 

“Magic,” a sly smile grew on his face. You shook your head, your lips pressed in a thin line. This wasn’t a game, but he certainly treated it like one. 

“When you were running, what did you see? Anything strange or unfamiliar?”

“You mean, besides the men with wings?”

“Yes, besides that.” He crossed his arms.

You took a breath, thinking back to the forest, to the lake disappearing, to hitting your head. “I turned to avoid a boulder and ran into a tree. When I looked up, the lake was just… gone. I thought I was concussed,” you admitted reluctantly.

He sighed. “I needed to make sure you weren’t a threat. Clearly, you know nothing,” he sauntered over, settling into the armchair and crossing his legs. “Although… what I saw in the woods, it was intriguing. Where are you from Calida?”

“Washington,” you spat. 

He tapped the armrest with his finger, assessing you. 

“There have been reports of strange happenings in these woods. Herds gone missing only to reappear out of thin air. It’s not unheard of, though there hasn’t been a tear in…” he pondered, “thousands of years. Long before most of our family walked these lands. At least not that we know of. This one seems to be stuck open, for now, though we’re having trouble locating it.”

You blinked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Would you believe me if I told you the truth?”

Cassian and the other man watched your conversation silently. You looked for any sign of humor or mischief on their face, but they were unnaturally stoic. 

“Tell me then, and I’ll decide for myself.”

“Very well,” He clasped his hands with a casual grace that made you want to roll your eyes. “You must have slipped through a tear, or a door between worlds, because you, Calida, are not where you believe yourself to be. I attempted to read your mind in the forest, and saw nothing familiar. We don’t know where you slipped through. You’re in Prythian, a land of humans, like yourself, as well as Fae and magic,” he pointed to your ring, “the reason we can understand one another.”

You stared at him in disbelief.

“The humans here look and smell like you, but you are wholly different. A glimpse into an unfamiliar world.”

You sat still, looking at the men in the room, deciding drugs must be involved. Your mind pulled you back to the scarred man, Azriel. He watched you, and you could’ve sworn pity lined his eyes.

“I see…” you started, “I appreciate your protection and hospitality, but I’m sure I can find my way back.” You spoke calmly, afraid of their reaction.

A deep laugh filled the cabin as the violet eyed man stood. 

“Very well, we’ll see you on your way.” He reached into a small bag and set your belongings down beside you. 

“Rhys-” Azriel began, but the man held up a gentle hand to silence him.

He nodded toward the door, and Cassian opened it apprehensively. They seemed to share a wordless communication. You grabbed your things before they could change their mind. Azriel’s worried eyes followed you through the door. The cool forest air bit at your lungs, a flutter of hope filling your chest. The men behind you made no attempt to grab you. You didn’t dare look back; your feet skipping below you as you began to run through the thick trees. Moments passed and the hope sang louder in your ears as you blindly headed West, your eyes searching wildly for something familiar as your feet skipped across the forest floor.

After some time you came to a stop, leaning on a large rough tree while you caught your breath. You heard nothing over your loud breathing. Eventually it slowed and you realized you heard nothing, no birds sang, no creatures skittered. It was silent. Hairs stood on the back of your neck. Your eyes scanned the forest. There, in the distance, something caught your eye. You were flooded with a sense of familiar dread. You squinted, afraid to move, to breathe. You leaned ever so closer.

As if day was marrying night, a thick, dark swirl of shadow appeared before you. Along with Azriel. Your scream was muffled by his hand as he grabbed your arm with his other. He hushed you and you froze. His head snapped to the right, scanning the trees. You felt your breath in his hand.

”Shit,” he breathed. Before you could blink a darkness washed over you. It swallowed you whole, its gentle claws pulling at your ankles and combing through your hair. What kept you in place was not gravity, but Azriel as he held you to his chest. And just as the darkness had appeared, in a shadow, it had vanished before the light. The cabin filled your vision and you fell promptly to the soft ground, the world around you swirling.

”What was it?” Cassian questioned.

”Naga,” Rhysand spat.

You propped yourself on your elbows, your mouth hanging open, brows furrowed. You looked at the cabin, shocked. Suddenly, a swirl of shadow appeared and dissipated just as quickly as before, and a woman, the woman from the woods, stepped through. Definitely a concussion. 

”Let’s go,” Azriel pulled his dagger from his leg, nodding to Cassian. Wings, the giant membranous wings appeared on their back. This time, they moved as gracefully as the rest of them. Your breath caught in your throat. Your neck fell back as the men leapt up twenty feet in the air, their wings beating the wild grasses flat as they ascended. A cry left escaped your lips. You heard voices in the distance; you stared unblinking at the bright sky.

”You said yourself she’s harmless.”

”I said she’s not a threat. We’ll keep searching. Azriel will watch-“

”You want to keep them cooped up in that cabin? They’ll be at each other's throats. These woods aren’t safe,” She gestured toward the forest.

”The cabin is warded. We can find a spot for her elsewhere-“

“There is a spot. The River House.”

”Feyre, we’re not opening our home to her. There’s too much unknown.”

"Just for a day, Rhys. She’s human," she emphasized.

"Human, yes, but from a foreign world."

The woman stilled and they stood looking at each other for a long while. 

“You knew when you read her mind she wasn’t dangerous. She’ll be my responsibility. Madja will look over her again,” she held a hand up to stop him from arguing. ”That was me Rhys, this could have been me.”

It was decided. The woman made her way to you and knelt.

"Don’t be scared," she began, “but this may be uncomfortable.” She grabbed your arm and again you were swept up in rolling darkness.

…

“I was asleep for a day and a half?” You questioned in disbelief, eyes vacantly set on the wall before you.

The woman, Feyre as she’d told you, nodded, sighing. She was much better at calming your nerves than her husband had been. She’d expressed sympathy for not being there when you woke, something about dealing with a disgruntled citizen. She’d also apologized for Rhysand’s hostility. ‘You look similar to the people we have… political disagreements with,’ she’d said. ‘People, or “fae?”’ You’d questioned, but she’d just given you that same careful smile. 

When Feyre had brought you to the house you’d vomited on the floor, a reaction from what felt like being thrown a thousand feet in the air. Winnowing, she’d called it. You’d laid your cheek on the cool dark tile, steadying your breath. An older woman with a cautious face had appeared. She kept her distance as she moved her arms above you in slow circles. With a simple nod, she was off. Feyre seemed relieved by this and slowly guided you up the stairs and down the hall. 

You'd since decided that you died in the woods, or were clinging to life somewhere having fever-induced dreams. Now you sat on a bed in the grandest room you’d ever seen, unsure of how you’d imagined something like this. Swirls of gold decorated the walls, the wallpaper a faded, clear night sky. Painted portraits and landscapes filled the room. They glowed, the color so rich you swore you could step into the frame. The sheer pale curtains stretched high above the windows, breathing in and out with the uncertain breeze. 

Feyre had confirmed Rhys’s story. Prythian, Fae, the tear between worlds. You half-absorbed it, overwhelmed to the point of numbness. She handed you a small vile that the older woman had left, and you sniffed it suspiciously. ‘It’ll help with the nausea and the headache. I took it all the time when I was pregnant,’ she’d said. You took a sip and puckered. It tasted like lemon thyme. 

“So those men can fly.”

She chuckled, setting a pair of shoes down by the mirror and muttering something about the males being dramatic. “They can. So can Rhys and I, but we can conjure them. We had a glamour-” she paused, “we hid their wings with magic so you’d be less afraid.” 

Less afraid. You scoffed. Thinking back to the way Azriel had walked about the space so carefully, it was clear now. Maybe you hadn’t seen his wings because you didn’t want to.

“That man,” you interrupted the silence, watching as Feyre sorted through a box of clothing she’d brought to the room. “Azriel,” you continued, picking at the skin around your nails, “what happened to him?” 

She stilled. “I’m not sure that’s my story to tell.” She folded a gray sweater, and walked to the wardrobe, setting the pile of clothing inside. “As scary as these past days have been for you, there’s much worse beyond these walls. As long as you’re here, until we can get you back to your family, you’re safe.” 

You weren’t sure why, but again you felt a peace settle into your chest with her words. You read her sincerity. She spoke with a sureness that would ease any anxious mind. You refused to think about what else laid beyond these walls. Your imagination had never been kind to you.

“Rhysand was afraid to bring me here,” you responded.

She nodded, folding her arms. “He’s protective of our family, our son. So am I.” She tilted her head. “But, I saw into your mind through his, you’re not dangerous…” She continued after a pause, “I was lost once. And I was lucky enough to have someone to help guide me back.”

You hummed in response. ‘Saw into your mind.’

“Dinner is at sunset, but until then, rest. If you don’t want to join us you’re more than welcome to have dinner in your room.”

You nodded in thanks, as she reached the bedroom door. 

“There’s a bath waiting for you, whenever you’re ready.” she gestured toward the arched doorway that led to the bathing room. “Drink the rest of that vile,” she stated pointedly. The door shut softly behind her and you fell back, arms spread behind you. Your mind twisted around her words.

You grabbed your phone; dead. With a huff you plugged it into your charger and prayed.

… 

The bath water was still steaming hours later. You’d slept for a while, the adrenaline finally retreated, leaving you a heap of heavy limbs. The knot in your stomach loosened only slightly as you stepped in. You let your head fall back onto the cool porcelain as the hot water licked your tense body. You sat, watching the sun sink slowly beyond the windowsill. You scrubbed your body and inspected your hand. Flexing your fingers, you realized the scratch was gone. A dream, you thought to yourself. You stepped out, combing your lavender-scented hair.

The clothing Feyre brought was far nicer than most of what you owned. It looked well crafted, handmade. The brown knitted cardigan fell gently over your cream silk pants that you’d slipped on, along with a white t-shirt. Everything was familiar, but not. Every detail of the clothing was slightly different than you were accustomed to. You stood, fidgeting with the ring on your finger as you stood frozen in the mirror. The hairs around your face curled as they began to dry.

Down the stairs and to the left was the dining room, you’d been told. With a breath you stepped out, your silk slippers patting gently on the tiled floor. The grand hallway was barely illuminated. Sconces lined the walls, their warm flickering glow mixed with the cool light that shone through the windows. Flickering shadows danced on the giant paintings that filled the hall; your eyes landed on familiar wings and you shuddered. With each step down your anxiety heightened. Even asleep you couldn’t escape it.

Conversation filtered through the house, growing clearer with every step. You hesitated, heart beating heavily. The voices hushed. Every gaze turned toward you inquisitively as you stepped into view. Some faces recognizable, some not. A woman with long golden hair looked over you. A dark-haired woman at her side leaned over her elbow curiously, eyes squinted. A handsome man with dark skin and pure white hair whispered into her ear. Opposite them, a woman who looked remarkably similar to Feyre sat beside Cassian. You met Rhysand’s gaze as he sat at the end of the long dining table, Feyre by his side. She stood, coming to walk you to the opposite end near Azriel. You felt their burning gazes as you stiffly took your seat.

For a moment, there was silence. You glanced around, in awe of the people before you. At the towering wings. Their unnatural beauty. That’s when you spotted their ears, Feyre’s hair had covered them before. Delicate, pointed ears. You glanced around, realizing they all had them. All except Azriel and Cassian.

“Sorry if we scared you, kid,” Cassian interrupted the silence, taking a swig of his drink with a mischievous grin. 

“Calida, you’ve met Cassian, the Commander of our Armies,” Rhysand began. “Azriel, our Spymaster, as well as High Lady of the Night Court, Feyre. These are her sisters Elain and Nesta.”

Elaine, sitting closest to you, offered you a small smile, while Nesta only stared. 

“Morrigan, my cousin,” he pointed to the golden-haired woman to your left, “Amren my Second-in-Command, and our friend Varian.” 

“Call me Mor,” She replied, before turning to Rhys. “What’s with the formalities? And why did I just get ‘cousin’?” 

“Third-in-Command, Queen of Velaris, take your pick,” Rhys responded smoothly, sipping his wine. 

“If she's the Queen, what does that make you?” You asked, eyes set on the man across the table. 

“High Lord of the Night Court, and more powerful than most everyone at this table,” he responded coolly.

“Most?” you questioned. 

“Most,” Feyre responded, a smile playing on her lips.

Cassian interrupted, “See Nes, you two will get along great.” The woman at his side chuckled. The atmosphere was tense. You weren’t helping. 

The focus turned to dinner. The scent of roasted meat and vegetables filled the air. You all loaded your plates and ate in near silence. It tasted so real. So many questions racked your mind, too many. You weren’t sure how to organize them, so you observed. For a ‘foreign world’, there was a lot of familiarity. Their mannerisms, the food. You stabbed a carrot with your fork. Light conversation skittered through the room. You felt Azriel’s eyes on you while you ate, as if he was waiting for you to pounce. You grabbed a slice of dark bread. Everyone seemed unsure of what to do with you. 

“Calida.” 

You looked up, startled. Elain offered you a smile. “That’s a beautiful name.” You felt lingering glances.

“Thank you,” you responded windlessly, “It’s Irish.”

“Is that where you’re from?” She questioned.

“My great-grandfather immigrated from Ireland to America,” you responded. “I grew up in Washington, near the city of Seattle.” You knew this meant nothing to them, but she nodded anyway.

“And what do you fill your time with?” She inquired.

“I’m a student,” you began, “or was. I studied English. Books and authors.”

“What kind of books?” Nesta chimed in.

You looked at her in surprise. “A little of everything. Classic literature, poetry, non-fiction.” 

She hummed in response, tilting her head and reaching for her glass.

Elain asked about your family and friends. You told them about Jack, Annie, and Brooke. A little about your parents. Sometimes they looked at you like you’d said something totally foreign. You were sure you had.

“How do you know each other?” you questioned. Cassian and Azriel looked like they could be related. They had the same large frame and dark hair like Rhysand.

“Cassion, Azriel, Mor, and I grew up together,” Rhysand answered, leaning back in his chair. You glanced at Azriel beside you, but he remained uninterested in conversation.

“My story is long and complicated. I was born human, and eventually found myself here,” Feyre added.

“Born human?” 

“Nesta and I were, too,” Elain emphasized. 

“How did you–”

“It’s a long story,” Nesta repeated, shutting you down.

This time, it was the dark-haired woman, Amren, who spoke. “I come from a different place, just like you, girl.” She set her glass down, crossing her arms on the table. Her stare felt cold. “About five-thousand years ago I crossed over from a different world. It seems we have that in common.”

“Five thousand years?” You scoffed. 

“Yes.” 

Your mind flew back to Rhysand’s comment at the cabin. You looked around the room for an answer, a rebuttal. 

“Amren’s ancient. I’m 537,” Cassian spoke, stretching his arm behind his head with a yawn. 

“I’m twenty-three,” Elain offered. You turned to her with a smile, a small laugh bubbling in your chest at the ridiculousness of it all. You decided you liked Elain. She reminded you of Annie. 

A thought crossed your mind, and you turned to Rhysand. “Why did you ask me if I was from Autumn? What does that mean?”

You felt Azriel’s gaze slip.

“It was mostly a joke. Your hair is red like the family from Autumn Court, but I knew you were human. Nevertheless, I wanted to see your reaction.”

“Autumn Court? There’s another court?” You questioned. 

Before he could answer, the scrape of Azriel’s chair pierced the air as he pushed himself further from the table, his wings flaring slightly behind him.

“We have an early morning.” He stated, focus turning to Rhysand. 

Rhysand ignored his interruption. “There are several courts. You don’t need to worry yourself. Tomorrow morning you’ll go back to the forest, search for the tear, and this will all be behind you.”

“Alone?”

“No. Azriel and Amren will accompany you. She may be able to spot the tear.”

May. Your mind and body grew heavy. You felt yourself falling deeper into the abyss of your mind. You reached out to grab the bottle of dark liquid closest to you. Azriel stole it from your hands.

“That’s not a good idea,” he stated, peering at you with dark eyes.

“I’m old enough to drink.”

“And how old would that be?”

“Twenty-two,” you rebutted. He scoffed, shaking his head. You looked at his hand that rested before you. A fresh cut sliced along the back of it.

“It's not real,” you whispered to him, staring into his eyes intently. They almost looked brown in the dim light. He furrowed his brows.

“A small glass is fine, Az,” Feyre offered.

He sighed, sliding it over. You poured yourself a glass as he settled back into his seat. You watched his wings as they moved. The candlelight shone through ever so slightly, illuminating dark veins. You stared, amazed as you sipped the wine. It was tart, tasting like cherry or currant. It made your head buzz.

“So you read minds,” you gestured to Rhysand and Feyre.

He smiled. “Yes. But I wasn’t very successful reading yours, what with you fainting and all.”

You nodded, thankful for the absence of the ache in the back of your head. “What did you see?” 

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist. 

“Faces, feelings; some things familiar, some not.” 

You hummed in response, swirling your glass on the table.

“You don’t seem upset that I was in your head,” he inquired.

You shook yours. “It reminds me I’m not making it all up.”

Taglist: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @latinxbipride @inkedinshadows @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1

[atalana]

the curse of adhd:

i will remember with absolute clarity, when the thought strikes me that i have a text to send someone, that this is the fourth time in three days i've attempted to send this specific text

i will forget, in the time it takes me to pick up my phone, that i picked it up intending to send a text

[badolmen]

People against piracy fail to realize that no, I can’t just ‘buy it.’ They stopped making DVDs and Blu-Rays. They’re barely offering digital copies for download. I am not spending money I could use for food or bills to pay for a subscription service just so I can always have access to a beloved piece of media. Especially not when the service will remove media on a whim without concern for how the loss of access to that piece will make its artistic conservation nigh impossible.

For example, I recently learned that Disney+ had an original film called Crater. It’s scifi, family friendly, and seems cool - I would love to buy it as a holiday gift for my little brother! But: it’s exclusive to D+ and THEY REMOVED IT LITERALLY MONTHS AFTER ITS RELEASE.

The ONLY way I can directly access this film is through piracy. The ONLY available ‘copies’ of this film are hosted on piracy websites. Disney will NEVER release it in theaters, or as something to buy, and it may NEVER return to the streaming service. It will be LOST because we aren’t allowed to purchase it for personal viewing. If I can’t pay to own it, I won’t pay for the privilege of losing it when corporate decides to put it in a vault.

So yes, I’m going to pirate and support piracy.

Edit: if you are able, use $5 you would otherwise use for a streaming subscription to donate to a GazaFunds campaign.

[interviewwiththevampireart]

Death and the Maiden (Marianne Stokes, 1908)

2.06 “Like the Light by Which God Made the World Before He Made Light”

[coffebits]

Redraw and redesign of this TOTK piece I did before playing the game✨

[hinamie]

oversaturate

[wanologic]

and they were roommates

[raynewolferune]

DC x DP Prompt: Bruce is bad at emoting but at least ghosts are empathic (too bad bat kids are not)

Was reading Twincognito on AO3 when I stumbled across this gem again:

~

" “Danny, Tim. I was just…checking in. Is everything alright?” Curse his inability to make meaningful conversation when it wasn’t a life or death situation.

They glanced at each other and shrugged.

Then Danny hauled himself out of the bed and walked over to Bruce.

Bruce tried not to let too much excitement show on his face. "

~

Now I really want to read a story where Bruce adopts Danny post Meta trafficking and is being his usual emotionally constipated self. His kids keep getting mad at him because he's treating their new meta brother who was trafficked poorly (generally being stilted in conversation with him, walking away hurriedly mid-conversation, avoiding Danny when he's feeling really awkward, etc). They think Bruce is discriminating against Danny for being a civilian, meta, dealer's pick, but really it's just Bruce being horribly socially awkward. Danny knows this because of ghost empathy and find the whole thing hilarious. The whole thing comes to a head with the Bat Kids staging an intervention in the Bat Cave.

[numbuh424]

this was literally their first date

original image

[caguaydreams]

boops might be gone but the experience will stay with me forever

[vounoura]

↳ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ ᴀɢᴇ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴇɪʟɢᴜᴀʀᴅ — ᴏꜰꜰɪᴄɪᴀʟ ʟᴀᴜɴᴄʜ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ

[t00thpasteface]

tone deaf

[thepriceofsurvival]

This is very unfinished but I needed everyone to see the vision I had

[yourneighbortoasty]

jar

[careful-please]

Into the gray

The world is full of colors. The yellow sun reveals everything. The blue ocean, the green grass, the brown bark, the white clouds. Everything is so vibrant and beautiful. And the colors change. When the clouds block the sun, everything becomes muted. The flowers aren't so eye catching, the birds not so distracting.

But when the sun sets, colors like no other come into play. The gentle orange and brilliant pink of the horizon fades slowly into the indigo of twilight. The pastel blue of day bleeds into the cool black tones of night. There the color is so rich and yet gentle. So hushed yet undeniable.

The break of dawn is loud and quick. You can miss it if you drag your feet. But always is it perceived by the gray dust of pre-dawn. The hour between the softened deep blue and the erratic bright red. The gray resets the world so life can blossom again in the daylight.

It is that hour, before the morning erupts with noise and color, where my thoughts finally stop. And I see the world differently. I clutch at my mug on the porch as my breath fogs into the gray.

"I will make this a good day."

[naberiuz]

legendary toxic yaoi