#You Never Forget

[vidalinav]

You Never Forget (4)

The other chapters

Summary: Nesta loses her memory when she falls down the stairs and all that jazz.

~

Nesta isn’t sure when it happens, but a light bulb flickers on. A flash of lightning pierces the room, and suddenly, for a moment, Nesta blinks wide at the brightness of all she can see... and just for a moment, it all seems like a trap. 

For a moment, Velaris feels menacing. 

She can see it outside of her window like a monster hidden in the depths of the  night. She’s tucked beneath covers, in a house so high above, but the lights below flicker in the distance chanting up a summons. 

Remember, remember, remember. 

Remember who you are. 

Remember what she feels, would be the better retort. Nesta’s not so sure anymore. 

She feels... unsteady. As if she’s standing on a ledge of a very tall tower and one push of the wind might make her tip. Cassian says he’ll explain everything once they get home, but he only lays her down in bed. He won’t let her go from his arms the whole way, mumbling something about her injury. Her head does hurt so Nesta doesn’t argue. 

But it’s her chest that hurts more. Something heavy sits there, pressing there like Cassian does his fingers to her head. Tap taps like the pitter patter of rain and the summoning of a storm that may or may not be coming. For surely, if there’s lightning, there must soon be rain. 

He rubs at her head and Nesta thinks of storms. He combs his fingers through her hair until she blinks so slowly she might already be floating, sinking into that flooded Sidra. Cassian turns off the lights with promises of tomorrow, “tomorrow I’ll tell you everything” and Nesta sees that flash of lightning. Like a lightbulb flicking on and off again.  

Velaris in the distance winks cruelly and Nesta thinks of that tiny fae female with eyes that might bite, and an ugly, bitter taste floods her mouth. It tastes like blood... and wine... and hurtful, aching words. 

It feels like falling. 

It feels like hitting tarmac and cement. 

It feels like never getting back up. 

Nesta wills her eyes shut, praying she forgets it all. She doesn’t want to remember the taste, the touch, the feel of knowing. She only wants to feel Cassian’s hands as they were before he shut the door and turned off the lights, before they even made it down the mountain. She wants to hear his voice and the humming in his chest where his heart beats a melodic song. She wants to feel the warmth of his body against hers, protecting her against the cold, piecing wind as they fall.  

Nesta wills herself not to remember. 

For something cruel and dark lives there in the depths of her memories. 

~

But morning comes too soon and Cassian takes her hand. They’re going down again, he explains, to meet the people she’s forgotten. 

Forgotten like they don’t even matter at all.  

“I should have mentioned them sooner,” he keeps remarking, but Nesta’s not so sure she wants to know who they are even if that thought drums up so much guilt that it makes her nauseous. 

That heavy feeling is back again and her heart beats a bit faster, her limbs are a little more stiff, her back stands a little bit straighter. She keeps clenching her fists. Cassian keeps unraveling them, kissing at her palm and rubbing at the indentation of her nails. It reminds her of teeth and bite marks and cruelty. 

A few days ago, there was nothing but dreams and today, the drums sound in anticipation and the noise rings in her ears. She can barely comprehend what Cassian says as her head aches, pounding away.   

“Feyre will be happy to know you’re well.” 

Feyre, she breathes. Feyre is her little sister and Rhysand is her sister’s mate. It’s all she knows of them. That and the fact that they live down below and Nesta lives high above, so high that she must be trapped in this place. 

It’s a thought that persists, for no one should live so high and away from the rest of the world. 

Cassian only looks her up and down, and it’s further proof that there must have been something wrong with her to be kept so far away. He’s caution against cradling her in his arms. She’s never seen him so hesitant in these past days and it has her eyes stinging, but she wills herself not to reach for him. She must stand on her own two feet. 

This is how she’ll remember. 

His eyes settle on her hair, and Nesta tries not to fiddle with the straying pieces. “You’ve braided it back,” he notes. 

She resists touching the twists it pulls on the scab of a wound still healing. But for some reason, Nesta likes the pain. It’s the one thing she can’t forget. It’s there persisting, nagging her forward. 

The sooner you get this over with, the sooner you can take it out. The sooner you’ll be free.

So Nesta shrugs in answer, because she doesn’t know what to say. 

“It’s familiar,” she says quietly and those are not the right words for a sadness so deep she could drown in it flashes through his eyes. This time she doesn’t stop herself from rushing to him and finding solace in his massive frame and he doesn’t stop himself from holding her close.  

Cassian holds her tight, one of his hands settling on the back of her head as if he can keep her there permanently. She doesn’t know why this feels like a goodbye, but she wants to pull at his hand and plead for them to stay here where it’s safe, where nothing exists but them and this house. 

But soon enough, she’s wholly in his arms again, his wings catching the wind as they fall. 

The house they arrive at is much less grand then the mountain, though large in its own right. Nesta wonders if it will also grant her everything she wishes... perhaps all houses do that here. Perhaps there is nothing really special about it. Just like her, who only boasts pointed ears and nothing else. 

The door opens for them and Cassian merely walks through like he’s been here before and she’s sure he has because it’s she who doesn’t remember. Lives have been lived without her knowing this entire time. 

Cassian leads the way and when they enter what seems to be a living room, Nesta’s gaze catches a wall of pictures just as a set of arms move around her frame. 

“Oh, Nesta, are you okay?” Feyre, Nesta presumes, says. She squeezes the life out of her, but Nesta does nothing but hold her arms to her waist in a way she wishes Cassian would instead. So she wouldn’t feel so unsteady within these walls and within her sister’s arms. “I’ve been worried sick. Amren told me she’d seen you and Azriel wouldn’t say a word.”

Behind her sister, leaning up against that wall, a male’s gaze flickers to hers and then to Cassian’s. Dark and dangerous... Velaris’s flickering lights. 

“Cassian told us you fell,” he says and at his voice, Nesta wills herself once more to not fiddle with her hair. So instead she focuses on the pictures that fit so fully on the wall. Family and joy and warmth and smiles of people she should recognize, she knows. She hopes it fills her, hopes it calms her racing heart. 

“We’ve been worried sick,” Feyre says, but at Rhysand’s stern gaze, Nesta wonders if that’s a lie.  

But some truth settles in Nesta’s chest as she looks back up at those smiling faces. A truth so heavy she wants to cry. 

A lightning bolt strikes and Nesta knows. 

No love for her lives here in this house.  

[sporkinventor]

i don't watch supernatural, so my only consumption of the characters has been through tumblr gifs and text posts. i don't know if you guys edit the captions but?? the intimacy and bickering of the conversations between dean and cas are that of a married couple and you're telling me they're victims of the bury your gays trope?

[alynnl]

Here’s a little snippet of what I wrote for my Ace Attorney project today!

We are getting to the heart of the matter, y’all. ❤️

[frosthetix]

some dudebros: tom hardy must be held at gunpoint to still be doing these sony venom movies

tom hardy: WRITES the movie, PRODUCES the movies, repeatedly states how much venom and eddie means to him, reads all the comics, #1 veddie shipper

[prouvaireafterdark]

listen I know it's heartbreaking that Claudia dies and it's understandable to wish she didn't, but let's please not accuse the writers of fridging her. to do so is a fundamental misunderstanding of the story and is frankly insulting to the intelligence and skill of the writers of the show.

Claudia's death, and the overwhelming grief and regret her parents experience because of it, is quite literally the point of the entire story. she dies because Anne's daughter Michele died of leukemia when she was five years old and there was nothing she or her husband could do to prevent it.

writing IWTV was how Anne coped with the unimaginable loss of a parent losing her child. she created a story about a little girl that could not die and then killed her anyway. Claudia's death is a senseless, unavoidable tragedy, just like Michele's was. the grief that haunts Louis and Lestat for the rest of their lives is the same grief that haunted Anne and her husband.

so when you're accusing people of killing Claudia off to benefit a story about two men, please remember that in real life sometimes parents lose their children. please remember Michele Rice.

she's the reason Claudia exists.

she's also the reason Claudia cannot be saved.

[an-internet-introvert]

When burning pasta is so traumatic you have to rewrite history in your head

[caramelldansenu]

[hemaris]

was walking along a stream and kept seeing these little flower boats go by, and i was like "how nice is it that someone took the time to make these". and then 15ish minutes layer i came by a bridge where a guy in his sixties/seventies was sitting down with a huge bucket of freshly plucked flowers and leaves making the little boats, and another guy in his twenties who was fluent in english explaining to passers by that yes it's free, yes you can take pictures, yes it's just for fun. the older guy kept telling everyone that succesfully dropping them into the stream upright and having them sail away meant good luck in the future, and i'm like 98% sure that they were folded in a way where they're *always* gonna end right side up, but that didn't stop him from clapping/cheering every time one landed right. i sat down for a bit and hung out and chatted with them for like half an hour and they were SO fucking nice that i genuinely cried a little afterwards and anyway thank u for coming to my ted talk about the restoration of my faith in humanity

[bacchuschucklefuck]

no more fan-ta-sizing about it! everything's already changed~

[lungthief]

listen. i know it's not 2014 anymore and i know it's just a throwaway line and that the russo brothers didnt intend for marvel action blockbuster captain america the winter soldier to become the tragic gay love story that never was but man. having steve say "it's kind of hard to find someone with shared life experience" in a conversation about romantic relationships right before the bucky reveal is so cruel. it's not just about steve and bucky obviously having the shared experience of being "out of time," it's the fact that they've both been stripped of their humanity in opposite directions. steve is a legend, he is an american hero and a national icon before he is a human being the same way that bucky is a weapon and a killing machine before he is a human being. steve knows that anyone who falls in love with him in the 21st century fell in love with captain america first, and that's just not him. but then the one person who knew him first and knew him best and loved him (not captain america, that little guy from brooklyn) so much he died for it is alive, impossibly. and it's a miracle because he's back and it's horrific because he's back under the worst possible circumstances. but to steve, the winter soldier is worth tearing the world apart for because he's always been bucky first. they find each other and suddenly they're human again. and maybe, despite it all, being "out of time" becomes a blessing, because in this century they'd finally be allowed to love each other the way they've always wanted to. like real people do.

like. no. the captain america trilogy isn't about two queer men traumatized and alienated by war and modern life rediscovering and reclaiming their humanity through their love for each other. but. i mean. it couldve been

[pocket-deer-boy]

Check out the character creator for Palworld, it lets you be legitimately fat

[somewhereincairparavel]

i will never understand how people have the heart to hate Jason even after they found out that his Ambrosia tastes like fucking sawdust. Ambrosia being tasty is like one single happy thing a demigod can have despite their tragic lives, because it reminds them of the home they once had, but lost. And Jason doesn't even have that, he doesn't even have a home to lose in the first place.

[alynnl]

Guys!

Can you have one character who's normally stubborn about asking for help quietly accept it by not pulling away...

And the other character pick up on that signal and decide they will take care of the first character "even if it meant staying up til dawn..."

And still have it be a gen fic?

Asking for me

[wizard0rb]

this is the gay video games website so it’s honestly such a shock that i never see people talk about the metal gear character who’s entire personality is being a butch lesbian

[bellowsthebard]

Happy 50th anniversary to the greatest mafia movie of all time. Goncharov(1973).