#|| Lost Time Memory || Amnesia

[metamatronic]

“It makes sense why ASGORE took so long to hire a new Royal Scientist. After all, the old one... Dr. Gaster. What an act to follow!” “One day, he vanished without a trace. They say he shattered across time and space.” “Well, I needn't gossip. After all, it's rude to talk about someone who's listening.”

it’s 2024 and i’m drawing undertale fanart of *checks notes* the gaster followers??? yeah sure alright.

((also i know goner kid is monster kid’s sprite but baby alphys intern has my heart))

[destinysbounty]

I know I have wayyy too many fan projects on my to-do list to warrant adding another one onto the pile (cough cough the 30-minute love triangle video essay), but for years now I've been wanting to do a rewrite/novelization of the Shadow of Ronin video game. Because like, the lore of this game has so many fucked up implications that never get acknowledged - but unlike with most fucked up Ninjago lore, the game is just obscure enough that not as many people are familiar with it enough to facilitate a broader discussion about this stuff. And dammit, I need at least one fic talking about how messed up SoR actually was and if I cannot find it I guess I'll just have to create it.

[starry-bi-sky]

I had a thought, dear However scary About that night The bugs and the dirt Why were you digging? What did you bury Before those hands pulled me From the earth? I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask you, neither should you

-------- an extension of this excerpt because I've been thinking of Femme Danny and Jason all week. It's mildly suggestive, but that's really the only heads up needed. --------

Music blaring, bass heavy in her ears, Danny finds him in a ditch at the bottom of the bluff. She was leaving the observatory, and she nearly misses him as she turns out onto the last stretch of road leading back into the city.

She catches sight of him, just barely. A glimpse in the corner of her eye; something reflecting on the light. She thinks it's a deer at first, and instinctual terror that only the idiocy of a deer denting her car can give her, strikes her hard. There's no one behind her, so she slams the breaks.

Her car stops; there's no deer. She looks and looks, but there's no deer, no deer buddy — they always come in pairs. But something still catches her eye; light reflecting off leather, in the ditch below just a few feet in front of her.

"What the fuck is that?" Slips out of her mouth before she can really think it through, and she's pulling off to the shoulder, wheels crunching gravel, before she thinks that through either.

Danny's climbing out of her car within seconds, putting it in park and hitting her hazards as her door clicks open and she stands up on the ledge. The trees block the sky, and there is no moon beholden to brighten the land, only the dull light of the stars and the brights of her car.

There's a man in a ditch. And he's not moving. From the distance, Danny's not sure if he's breathing.

She breathes out for him; "Fuck." She's running around the front of her car, not thinking it through. Her feet crunch the gravel, bugs buzzing at her ears, and she's sliding down the small hill into the ditch to reach his side.

"Please don't be dead, please don't be dead." Repeats in mantra under her breath, she can smell blood; heavy and iron, mixing with the dirt and the grass. Her hands find his side, Danny rolls him over onto his back. Her fingers find his pulse, and she breathes relief. He's alive.

—---------

Danny finds no less than two — no, three guns, four knives, and an actual, goddamn shiv on the half-dead ditch man. But not a single ID or wallet.

The man reeks of danger, even in his unconscious state it lingers on him like a rich cologne. It's the human instinct to be curious, and maybe it's the blood and dirt that tells her he's bad news. Common sense, naturally.

She doesn't know what to do with him. Danny wants to help him, but the ghostly part of her, the one that seeks safety above all else — for herself, for her loved ones. Because growing up in a house of weapons on the tables for sticky, pudgy fingers to play with, and food that needs killing twice, and labs full of half-broken beakers and radioactive substances spilling onto the floor robbed her of it entirely, — tells her to leave him.

He's dangerous. Her core hums cold, freezing the tips of her fingers, making her ears ring. She forgets to breathe, her hands going numb. Leave him for the coyotes to find; for the bugs to feast on; for the mud to swallow whole. Leave him for the land. Nobody carries this many weapons on them unless—

He groans. In only the light from her high beams, his cracked lips split and makes a noise of pain. His chest rises, shuddery and slow, and he doesn't wake. The man slips back down into unconsciousness. But he's alive.

He's alive.

Danny exhales. It's springtime, wreathed in life. It's cold; he's cold. But alive. She shakes the chill from her fingers, resolution warms her lungs.

Carrying him up to her car isn't easy — dressed like fucking Dean Winchester and wearing half as many layers, the man is probably two hundred pounds. But she's been working out and taking boxing classes since sophomore year of high school. She throws him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and hikes them both up the hill.

She drives them home. Don't ask her why she didn't take them to the hospital; she can't give an answer. Not one that makes sense. She knows enough first aid to fix almost anything he might have.

Danny blasts the heat and turns the music on low; switches to something softer, more comforting, in case he wakes up. She kicks the passenger seat back far enough so that if he does, he's reclined comfortably.

He doesn't wake up, she can't keep her eyes off him anyways.

—---------

Danny lays him on the couch in her house. He gets blood and mud on the fabric, and she'll need to get a new one because of it. But she takes off his boots, strips him of his shirt and jackets, and flies to the bathroom to get her first aid kit.

He doesn't wake up the entire time she's putting stitches in his side. Nothing is broken, but he's bruised and cut. Some get band-aids, others get bandages.

The man has half as many scars as Danny does. Stabs, cuts, a few burns here and there. Danny has those too, but she doubts the man has been impaled before like she has. The luck of ghosts that they can't die by mortal means. Or curse, depending on how you look at it.

(There's a thin scar on his throat, like someone tried to slice it open. She sees it while she's stitching up a laceration near his collarbone, and Danny can't stop herself from huffing.)

("We match." She murmurs, joking dry and ingenuine. She doubts anyone's survived a botched decapitation like she has. At least his scar is thin and hard to see. That wasn't a good night for her; she had to sew it closed herself, alone out of refusal to let her friends help.)

When she's done, she collapses into the recliner beside him, and falls asleep. She slips in and out of dreams all night.

—---------

When she wakes up, the man is staring at her, sitting up on the couch like an animal listening for the predator nearby. It's a good thing she hid his weapons in the floorboards when they arrived. She stares back at him, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

He's handsome. She thinks, and wakes up fully.

—---------

His name is Jason Todd, he doesn't remember who he is.

That's... a problem.

—---------

She makes them both food, and she'll never stop appreciating the fact that she no longer needs to fight her fridge before the food inside lets her eat. She hasn't lived with her parents in years, and yet the awe still hits her some days.

"I thought I told you to stay seated." She frowns when Jason Todd enters her kitchen, a hand hovering over his bandaged side. They're both tense; awkward and wrong-footed. Off-kilter. It's not a surprise to her. He's amnesiac, she's a stranger.

Jason Todd blinks at her, leaning against the doorframe. From her periphery, he shrugs, only to suck in his teeth in pained regret moments later. "I got bored." He tells her.

"Well, I don't have painkillers," Danny retorts, cheek comes easy to her. Too easy, sometimes. "if you tear your stitches then I'm giving you a rag to bite into while I redo them."

Well, if anything, it gets a snort from him.

—---------

"So, do I have a shirt, or did you just find a half-naked, half-dead man in the woods and decide to take him home?" Jason Todd asks her from the table a few minutes later. She can see, even standing a few feet away, the gooseflesh rising bumps against his skin.

Her cheeks color pink, and she moves to the hallway. "You have a shirt," she says, "you have two actually, and a jacket. I threw the shirts in the wash because they were filthy."

The jacket was leather, so during the night, when she woke up from her many bouts of restless sleep, she got up and cleaned it by hand. "I would've done the same with your jeans, but I can take a half-dead man home," she opens the dryer and pulls out the shirts, "but I draw the line at taking off his pants when he's unconscious."

It gets a short laugh out of him; harsh and brief, and it makes her relax, just a little. Laughter meant just enough comfort to not be tense... most of the time. She returns to his side and drapes the still-warm clothes onto the table.

"What if my legs were hurt?" He asks her, raising an eyebrow even as he reached for the first shirt.

"Then that is called an exception to the rule, ditch man."

—---------

He stays with her. He has nowhere to go — and trust her, they looked. Or they tried to. But he has no social media that shows up under the name ‘Jason Todd’. Oh, there are Jason Todds, but none that match the way he looks — none of them his age, none of them with black hair and blue eyes, no white streak in the curls at the front.  

Well, there was one possible candidate. A Jason Todd-Wayne, infamous adoptive son of Bruce Wayne. But he died the same year Danny did, and unlike her, he didn’t come back. 

“Great.” Jason Todd sighs heavy, “I match with a dead kid.”

“I’m honestly kind of impressed.” Danny tells him, frowning despite her laughing disbelief. She scrolls through every social media she can find, and he just doesn’t show up. There are no warrants out for his arrests, no celebrity interviews with him in it, no missing news reports matching his description. Nothing. “How do you not have any socials? You’re like a ghost.” And she knows a thing or two about ghosts.

It’s equally as suspicious as it is impressive. Who are you, Jason Todd? She wonders, looking over to him.  

He merely shrugs, careful of his injuries, and slumps into his chair. “Don’t ask me, I don’t remember.” 

She gives him the guest room, and they go out and buy him clothes with what budget she can afford. She drags him to a thrift store first, to every thrift store in the city, and they come back with a decent enough haul that he has clothes for at least two weeks. 

—---------

“Danny, what is that?” 

She takes a long sip of her drink, Jason lingering at her side like a shadow. “A smoothie, Tucker.” She says, deadpan like it's the most obvious thing in the world as she slides into their favorite booth with practiced ease. “You know this, I always get one on Fridays.” 

Jason follows her easily, slow and careful, mindful of his sides. He’s back to awkward, tense, acting like an outside looking in. Like he’s not quite sure what to do in the face of her friends. They’ve been together for a week now, and she asked him if he wanted to meet Sam and Tucker with her. 

(“You’ve been cooped up here all week.” She says when he asks her why, her hands shifting the purse at her shoulder. In shorts and a tank-top her scars lay on display for the world to see, and while she's long since shed the worst of her self-consciousness, it still creeps up on her. She can feel his eyes on them, even after a week. “Some fresh air and a change of scenery might do you some good. Maybe even jog that noggin of yours.”) 

Sam and Tucker stare at her, expressions unreading on their faces. Their eyes flick to Jason at her side, and then back to her. Danny takes another longer sip of her drink, and when she lets go with an obnoxious smack, she jerks her head to Jason. “Oh,” she says like an afterthought, an impish smile shadowing over her lips. “This is Jason, I found him in a ditch on Sunday.” 

"You what!?"

—---------

She doesn’t know how it happens. It sneaks up on her like sunlight creeping across the grass, melting away the morning dew and warming the dirt. She loves him. She loves him, she loves him, she loves him. It’s a terrible, choking thing. Wonderfully beautiful, melting her from the inside out. 

She loves him, she loves him, she loves him.

It’s greater than anything she’s felt before. Different from when she nearly dated Valerie in high school — but so, so similar to it at the same time. Warm in its certainty, in its similarity, burning in its difference. 

Danny doesn’t even realize it until half a year living with him, maybe just a little bit longer. But she realizes when she comes downstairs in the early dredges of the morning, sleep clinging to her lashes and sunlight unfurling through the windows, and finds him in the kitchen making food already. 

It’s not the first time she’s woken up to him doing this. But it’s, for some reason, only now that it hits her how fucking domestic it is. With music playing soft through the speaker of his used phone, barefoot in nothing but sweatpants, and humming along under his breath. He’s gotten so comfortable here; he laughs easier now, smiles easier. It was like watching a flower bloom in real time. 

And the sunlight cards through his hair like fingers, caressing over his face in that loving way it does when it wants someone to see the breathless beauty of their eyes. 

Something constricts in Danny’s chest, tight, fond, wanting. Mine, her mind whispers, faint and distant, and knocking the air from her lungs like a fucking train. Her fingers curl tight around the stairway rails, she has half a mind to crack it in two. 

Then he turns and sees her, he always notices her quickly, and Jason smiles at her. 

Somehow, Danny manages to smile back smiling with the ease of breathing, even when her mouth runs dry.

(If she kisses him, will she taste sugar? She hopes not — white sugar is unfilling, sweet but with nothing else to it. If she tastes Jason Todd, she hopes she tastes caramel.) 

—---------

“Want to go throw axes with me?” Danny asks, draping over the back of the couch and hanging her arms off Jason’s shoulders. Her hand finds his hair, and her fingers tangle with the dark curls. She can smell his shampoo when she hooks her chin on the top of his head.

Jason stills, a book in hand — he’s always got a book, and Danny’s never had much artistic talent but she always want s to find a pencil, maybe some charcoals, and sketch the sight down on paper. Memory isn’t enough, she needs it burned into something tangible. She wants to burn everything he does onto paper, wants to remember every little thing about him.

Then he hums, questioning and low, and Danny tries not to shiver with greed to hear it again. She hums back, her next inhale clearing her head. “Well, it’s not just me, but Sam and Tucker too. A new bar opened up downtown and we were gonna check it out, and we have enough time to add another person to the reservation.” 

A silence, thick and thoughtful. Jason tilts his head back to look up at her, and she removes her chin and hand to look down at him. Her hair curtains over them both, locking her into his eyes — impossibly blue, and beautifully so, with teal lining the iris. 

He wears his thoughts on his sleeve, his brows furrowed and mouth puckered in lighthearted thoughtfulness. Quit making me want to kiss you, Danny thinks, and forces her eyes to remain on his face. Idly, her hands trace over his shirt, rising slowly to drag the back of her nail over his collarbone. 

Jason shudders, sighs out slow, and smiles easily. “Sure, what time are we leaving?”   

—---------

Danny sighs as if she aches; she does. Her fingers find Jason Todd’s hair, soft and slipping between her fingers like silk. He’s so close to her face she can feel his breath on her lips, it’s driving her crazy with it. 

“My god.” She murmurs, her voice slipping out without her consent as her fingers drop from his hair to trace featherlight touches down his temples, down his jaw. His eyes haven’t left hers, half-lidded they are, and heavy, staring at her like he might just swallow her whole. 

Please do, she thinks, tilting her head to the side to slot their noses next to each other. His hands tighten at her waist, fingers digging through her hoodie into her skin. He hums, questioningly, low and rumbling like a thunderstorm on the horizon. As if he can’t trust his voice to say something instead. 

Danny chokes on nothing’s heat and runs her thumb over his bottom lip, the flesh catching briefly on her nail. She can’t think straight with him so close to her. Not when he’s so close she can smell his cologne, not when he’s so close she can lean down and sink her teeth into his throat and leave a bruise. She should, it might clear her head. 

Instead, she sighs again, her mouth so close to his that she brushes over his lips when she says; “You’re divine.” 

In the end, she doesn’t need to think about leaving bruises on his throat, because Jason closes that centimeters’ worth of distance between each other and kisses her like he needs air. 

—---------

“Do you have to go, love?” Arms snake around her waist, slipping easily over her dress, and Danny laughs, soft and easy, as Jason pulls her flush against his chest and drops his head into the crook over her shoulder. He dwarfs her in the mirror, capable of curling around her entirely, and she raises a gloved hand to rake her fingers through his soft hair.

Danny hums deeply, tilting to bare her throat as Jason starts pressing kisses to the skin. “Vlad will be upset if I don’t show up.” She wasn’t sure of the importance of this party, but Vlad had promised her a hefty bribe to show up, and call her greedy but damn if she wasn’t going to turn it down.  

Teeth bite gentle at the underside of her jaw, and Danny laughs out of surprise. Jason smiles, indenting it into her skin, and his hand finds the slit of her dress and covers the burn scar on the outside of her thigh. “What about running late?” He asks, something impish in his tone. “I’ve never seen you wear this one; you look good in red.” 

Danny laughs again, turns her head to catch his lips against hers, and kisses him long and sweet. “Yes, he’ll be mad if I’m late.” She says when she pulls back. 

He pouts, and really, how else is Danny supposed to react other than kiss him again? So she does, happily. “Wake me up when you get back,” Jason murmurs against her mouth, chasing after her, “I want to help you undress.” 

—---------

Some days, death creeps up on her, and the phantom pains of it render her coiled into a ball in her bed. She wakes up at three am burning, her starburst scars rooting down to her bones to remind her of the feeling of being torn apart by the atoms and stitched back together again. 

Danny can feel her heart beating in her ears, fast and panicked like she ran a marathon, filling her mouth with iron and the urge to cough out her lungs. There’s a scream stuck in the back of her throat like a spider sac, and she writhes with her head in her arms for what feels like an hour before she forces herself out of bed, mind half-muddled like a zombie. 

Jason is still asleep, Danny doesn’t have half the mind to be grateful, she shuffles herself down into the garage and grabs a compressed canister from the fridge, hidden in a false shelf. She might not keep ectoplasm in the kitchen, but she does in the garage. 

She returns on second nature to the bathroom. She locks the door, shuts the drain, and runs the water to boiling, and doesn’t stop the faucet until the water reaches the little drain in the wall beneath that prevents overflow. The compressed canister cracks open with a hiss, and Danny dumps what’s probably an ounce of ectoplasm into the steaming water.

The effect is instantaneous, the water swirling and turning bright with ectoplasm all the way down. It’s diluted, and Danny only remembers to take off her sleep shirt before she slips into the water. 

Relief sinks into her, and chases away the worst of the pain. She sighs, she can breathe again, and dunks her head beneath the water. 

Then doesn’t get out until she’s freezing again and nearly peeling with wrinkles. 

(She goes downstairs when she’s changed into dry clothes and her hair is damp, and then collapses into Jason’s lap. Her face finds the crook of his neck, and Danny slumps, arms wrapping around his neck.)

(Jason’s hands find her waist, and his thumbs rub circles into her side, slipping under her shirt to run over the raised skin of the burn there. “What’s wrong?” He asks, murmuring low and close to her ear.)

(“Phantom pains.” Danny mumbles.)

(“Where?”)

(“Everywhere.”) 

—---------

When Danny returns home after finding Jason again, she feels numb, she feels cold. Her engagement ring is heavy on her finger and she feels like an outsider looking in when she looks down at it. 

She can’t get the way he looked at her out of her mind. It’s seared into her brain. 

Her back hits the door, and slowly she slides down it, a sob building in her throat. Her lip curling, her heart aching, her heart breaking. Too many questions inside her head for her to try and sort through them, but one is prevalent; Jason Todd is a liar.  

Danny shrieks his name so loud that she breaks her ceiling lights, and takes out the power throughout the entire block. There are dogs howling, cars wailing outside. There’s broken glass beneath her, scattered across the ground, cutting into her palms, and she hurts so much she wants to take the biggest shard and shred herself into ribbons. 

—---------

The memory fades away back into its small star-shape, and floats back up to the ceiling of her lair’s observatory. Danny watches it go, something small and aching still in her chest. Two weeks since she moved into the Zone, and she hates that she still loves him. She loves that she still loves him. 

She hates that she still misses him. She still visits Sam and Tucker, but Amity Park is tainted with the memory of Jason Todd; she needs away from it for a little while. Maybe a long while. She’s not too sure right now, she just needs to stay away. Somewhere where she can’t run into him. 

Danny pulls down another star to watch another memory again. One where they're dancing.

[spotaus]

Thinking about Orchid and her connection to my take on Gender (because this was meant to be about her and the Crew but it just devolved into a character analysis kinda??? More trauma-dumping maybe???) This is very much an oc/personal rant so feel free to ignore it 🫡

So, Orchid started off as a character I didn't really think much of (hear me out this is going to be relevant) because I wanted to add a 'girl' character but didn't know what to *do* with her, y'know? She was always going to be the strongest one there, she had the odds stacked in her favor with her parents. She was always going to be the gloomy side-character to match Reset's energy. But I think she's gone through every stage of Generic Woman I could possibly find.

At first she was angry and abrasive (think Fell!Sans) where every other word was a curse and she was likely to throw the first punch then laugh as she kicks her enemy while they're down. This was when Reset was a cartoonishly self-centered villain whose goal was simply to prove others wrong. Then Orchid became a sort of sisterly figure. This was short-lived, but she was the one comforting people who Reset would torment, but would ultimately follow his orders, because at this point he was actually a danger and sadistic. And then there was the phase where the story mellowed out and she became the token Goth Girl who, yes she was strong, but was heavy on the 'whatever' energy. Then there was her Era of deep self-loathing and anxiety about her worth that held her back and made her a much more timid and meek character who would only lash out on occasion.

Now, Orchid is the best of those iterations I've written yet. She's calm, level-headed, and a natural leader. Her father raised those traits into her. But she's very reactive, and can be silly, and when she's comfortable it's likely that air of importance transforms into something more comfortable and familiar. She laughs loudly and grins wide, she likes loud video-games but loves to read in the quiet. She's extremely disciplined, and normally no one can get through her tough exterior besides her best friend, Reset. She does what she does for her own enjoyment, sure, but she's thought of every angle and makes her choice to help Reset and control the others with her whole chest. She still worries she won't live up to her invisible expectations, and that and her loyalty are her two driving forces.

I know that Orchid is important to me because she's the longest-running female oc I've had. I have a rough relationship with womanhood/girlhood and I know looking back that Orchid recieved every ounce of my distaste for being a woman that I could shovel into her. That never made her less of a character, she was actually always one of my favorites, and rarely was she a 'punching bag oc'. I just... projected onto her a lot. And she's a good sign of how I've learned who I am. I've decided that my own femininity is something I could live without. I'd rather not associate myself with it, and I'd like to leave it in my past, focusing on a future where I'm not tied down with any gender roles or expectations. That won't happen, but I've come to terms with it myself. Orchid though? I figured out through her that I don't have to hate women characters. My own distaste for my circumstances doesn't mean I have to push it onto my characters (on God I've never expressed anything rude to actual people, that'd be rude as hell and uncalled for, but I have a bad habit of disliking fictional women in media). So, Orchid is a well-roubded character finally. She has motivations abd goals and a *lot* more depth than I ever expected her to. She's happy with being a woman, she's content. She's not treated differently for it in unfair ways by those she cares about, so she doesn't mind it. She likes to wear pretty outfits and lets Reset add bows to her ribbons. She doesn't let being a woman hold her back in the slightest.

So, yeah. Orchid is one of my babies. If I ever leave this Fandom behind for good, she's one that's coming with (Ichor, Orchid, and Pretender all have human designs I can use elsewhere lol-) but in the meantime I'll just rotate her around in my brain for a while longer.

If I'm right, she's been with me for nearly 5-6 years and I went through a *lot* with her as an outlet. So, she's kinda just like an old stuffed animal. A lil ripped, matted fur, maybe a stain or two, but there's a story there and that makes it important beyond belief.

[sunnylighter]

New Chapter of Memories Lost to Time.

[alibonbonn]

Memory struggle gfs

[fruitsyrups]

i think your hat post is really cool and interesting but susan’s hat is a cat and i will die on this hill

this is true!!! when i was talking about the modern human hats not resembling animals i meant all of these ones

(excluding the minerva-bots and finn of course)

[mxdotpng]

best part abt having an ff14 oc is creating side content for ur wol's character development, completely unrelated to the msq going on

[gaylizardowner]

I’m used to amnesia lost memories being a wildcard game and I’m usually prepared for whatever the hell they’re gonna put on my screen,

HOWEVER,

Toma having to lie and imply he was into BDSM to avoid admitting to kidnapping in front of Kent and Ikki did startle me slightly

[weewoo911]

Because I like making several different flavours of the same AUs I also want all of the above except they’ve also recently adopted or had a baby via surrogate and they’re going through all of this while they have a baby thats only a few months old

Tommy trying to hold it together because he really wasn’t sure about being a dad but doing it together with Evan felt so right and now Evan is still right with him but he doesn’t remember anything

Buck waking up in a life he doesn’t recognise where he’s a husband and a father and even if it’s not what he expected it’s a life he’s wanted for a long time and he doesn’t want to screw it up for himself

Amnesia fics are a classic and I’d love a bucktommy one where Buck gets injured and loses a good chunk of his memories and wakes up to find he has a beefy hot firefighter husband

Evan Buckley, severely concussed, looking at his wedding ring and husband: Hmm well I AM an ally after all! 🏳️‍🌈

[allisonreader]

Lost Memory

He groaned as he woke up. His head hurt. Even without opening his eyes.

His body was sluggish as he raised his hand to his thumping head.

It was bright as he tried opening his eyes. Wincing he tried to see why he was so uncomfortable and hurt. He felt bruised all over as he tried to sit up from his splayed position. Gravel bit into his palms.

Where was he?

He groaned again.

It was still hard to see. After blinking a few times and rubbing his eyes carefully, everything still seemed off. His vision not quite clearing. But he could make out the he was in a alley way filled with wooden crates.

He closed his eyes again. Where was he?

He hissed in pain as he tried to rub the back of his head. His hand a little bloody from such.

What happened to him?

Panic was starting to build.

Why couldn’t he remember anything?

He got to his knees, trying to get up. Stopping as his head spun and felt like he was going to throw up. He sat back down on his butt.

Heaving. Trying not to throw up.

He should take reference of what he had.

As soon as his head stopped spinning.

He took a few shaky deep breaths with his eyes closed again. Slowly opening them to take stock.

Oh. He had no shoes. Why didn’t he have shoes? He must have had them. His socks were fairly clean and he was outside? There was nothing in his socks.

He move up, patting his trousers all the way. His pockets were out turned. He grasped at his pockets, feeling them for anything that might remain in them before turning them right way in.

He didn’t have a coat. Was he supposed to? He had a waistcoat on. Pockets out turned again.

That couldn’t bode well for him could it?

He must have something that would tell him where he was going and maybe who he was. He checked all his pockets again. Not finding so much as a receipt or calling card. He even checked in his socks. Nothing. Not a single piece of identification. Nothing on him, or nearby.

His sleeves caught his attention. Something wasn’t right. He shook his arm in front of his face, the sleeve flapped at the cuff slit. He couldn’t tell what was wrong. He couldn’t stay here.

He tried getting up again. Slower this time. His head spinning slightly less. He stumbled as he got up.

Moving shouldn’t be this hard. He leaned against the crates.

He needed to go… but where? What had he been doing?

Signs weren’t pointing to anything good.

He stumbled down the alley way. Hissing in pain when he felt something sharp on his foot. He didn’t dare sit down again though.

There was no one along his path until he stumbled onto a main road. Here people swarmed. Giving him plenty of space though. Avoiding him.

"Help," his mouth was dry and hard to form the word. He was given disdained looks.

"Please, help…" words were hard and coming out slurred.

"You’re drunk! Go sober up,"

He wasn’t!

"S'not drunk," he swallowed, "need help."

"Stay away drunkard!"

"Not drunk-" he tried to say clearer, "don’t know who am."

A man and his lady companion moved by him quickly.

He heard the lady remark to the man, "how deep in the drink do you have to be to forget who you are?" She wasn’t the last to say say such.

Every person he tried to approach thought he was drunk and wanted nothing to do with him.

How frustrated he was. His head hurt. He felt sick to his stomach, and getting more tired by the moment. He still didn’t know where he was, other than having figured out he was in some random port. No one would tell him where, saying he should know. But he didn’t.

Aches and pains were making themselves more known with each passing moment. And he didn’t know who he was. No one was willing to help him.

What was he going to do if he didn’t find help?

It’s not like he had money or knew where to go. Food was another issue. Hunger was making itself known along with being sore. When had he last ate? What had happened to him? Did he have a family who was worried about him?

He didn’t know.

He tried to see if he could pick out anything remotely familiar. Staring at his surroundings. Anything that might help him figure anything out. He was getting desperate.

He didn’t want to wander too far from where he woke up in case there were any clues. But it was starting to get late and he had been wandering for what felt like hours. His feet hurt and he was pretty sure they were cut, but he hadn’t dared to check.

He didn’t know what to do or where to go. Wondering if he was going to have to sleep on the street somewhere. He shivered at the thought.

There must be another option. He didn’t know what it would be though. He scanned the buildings around him again. The crowd was large, swelling with people now nearly bumping into him as much as they were avoiding him.

He jumped when someone tapped his shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir? Are you alright? Are you lost?" a young lady asked him.

"Yes, lost," he let out a sigh of relief. Maybe this was help and thankfully that didn’t sound quite as slurred.

"Are you sure you’re alright?"

"No," he cleared his throat. "I think I dragged…"

"Dragged?"

"No- I mean-" he reached up to the back of his head again and grimaced when he touch his sore spot.

"Are you injured?"

"I think so. Nothing is clear. Not drunk- Not drunk."

"Shh, I believe you. I don’t think that you’re drunk. Do you know where you were trying to go?"

"I- I don’t know…"

"Your name? Mine’s Juliana Henderson and my companion who has been silent so far is Jacob Withers."

"I don’t know… I- can’t- remember…" he hadn’t even noticed her companion.

"Jules, I think we need to get him off his feet. Get him a doctor."

"I agree, but Dr. Morris would probably be the closest. Though I’m not sure whether he’d be in port currently or not."

"Why don’t we get Mr. Posh there set up at an inn, then I can go see if Dr. Morris is in."

"Sir? Do you think that you think that you can make it to an inn? It’s only a couple of blocks from here."

"Yes."

"Help support him?" An arm wrapped around him to help steady him as they started directing him to what he assumed was the inn.

Once he was lead inside the pair helped him into a seat in the dining hall of the inn.

"Why don’t the two of you stay here, get something to eat. I’ll go get us some rooms and see if Dr. Morris is in or if I’ll have to try for someone else."

"Thank you, that would be wonderful."

"Hopefully I’ll be back in an hour or so."

She nodded and sat in the chair across from him. The two of them were quiet until food was ordered and brought. He had a simple broth and a chunk of bread. Neither sitting as well as he’d like them to. Leaving him to pick slowly at his meal.

The lady was staring at him, he shifted uncomfortably.

"How are you feeling?"

He needed a moment to ponder her question.

"Sick. Sore. My head hurts, twirls- not twirls-"

"Dizzy or light-headed?"

"Yes, that."

"You looked off balanced. Do you know what happened?"

He shook his head slowly, trying not to get his head spinning again.

"No… I- think- robbed. It’s hard to- think. Feeling slow. Words are hard to form. Everyone said I’m drunk…. I’m not drunk. No one cared…"

"I would think that you’re right about being robbed. I also know that you’re not drunk. I’ve seen many a drunk man, and while there’s similarities I can tell that you’re not drunk. And the fact that you have no shoes adds credence to the idea that you have been robbed. As well as the fact that your- what I can only assume had been a suit, has seen better days and is missing pieces. Something must have scared away who ever robbed you that you still have a much left on you as you do. Or they weren’t as desperate to completely strip you."

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. Though grateful that he did at least still have some clothes on. The conversation didn’t pick up right away. He didn’t know what to say, so he focused on trying to eat his bread and broth. At least until he couldn’t anymore more and his head was bothering more again.

He hadn’t noticed when she had left the table, only noticing when she came back.

"Let’s get you to a room. Mr. Withers has already arranged rooms for us."

He agreed. Getting out of the noise of the dining hall sounded wonderful. As did getting some sleep.

She lead him up to the room he’d be staying in. She helped him into the room.

"I want to get you cleaned up before you see the doctor a little. Just enough to make his job a little easier. It might hurt a little."

"You should anyway…"

"I will try to be gentle."

"Thank you-"

"I would wait until after I clean you up a little before thanking me."

He shook his head.

"You’ve been helpful."

"Try and keep still, I’m going to start with your head."

She got him to sit on a chair and brought over a bowl of water with a cloth and carefully started to clean the back of his head. Removing the dried blood that had clotted into his hair. She hissed lightly at seeing his injury a little clearer. But he wouldn’t be able to see it easily, if at all even with a couple of mirrors.

There was a light knock at the door before she could move onto his feet. She dried her hands before answering the door.

"Dr. Morris, please come in."

"It’s good to see you Miss Henderson. Mr. Withers was explaining about our gentleman with the concerning injuries. Though he didn’t have much that he could tell me."

"I suspect that he wouldn’t. I’ve started cleaning up his head wound a little. It’s a rough looking cut and bump."

"Cuts can be stitched if large enough to need them. I hope you’ve been managing to stay away from unruly passengers who throw dishes?"

"I do try and avoid getting such cuts such as those ones. They’ve healed well."

"That is good to hear my dear. Now let’s see this man who has this head injury."

[nightingale-prompts]

God's TV- DC x DP prompt

Accidentally summoning a god from another dimension can happen, especially when cults are involved. However, no can could predict that the not only was the god a teenage boy but also a very bored teenage boy who didn't want to leave.

So he stayed and moved into Titans tower.

Danny is helpful (when he wants to be) but rarely goes out on missions. He says they are boring and nothing is dangerous enough to exert the effort. Instead, he minds the medical bay. Having a healer more than made up for the lack of help.

It's not like anyone disliked Danny or thought he didn't do anything it was just that he was unpredictable. Danny could be nice, considerate, and even sweet if he was working in the medbay. He could also be a pain in the ass anywhere else. He loved pranks and scaring people with his powers. He was harmless though.

No one really knew what he did all day. He was usually in his room doing something they guested. Said room was an anomaly. It was larger on the inside having been made into a pocket dimension. The appearance and organization of the room changed every time you went in.

It was after one mission that the team learned what was in the room.

A rogue had used their invention to erase Superboy's memories and they didn't know what to do. They took him to Danny who was currently rearranging the medicine by color. They hoped that his powers covered mind-altering afflictions. Unfortunately, Danny couldn't wave a hand and fix this.

Instead, Danny took the group to his room. The decor was neon Tokyo meets space right now. The furniture was currently floating and almost hitting Wonder Girl in the head with an end table. Of course, there was no gravity here.

"Stay here while I grab it," Danny said flying up the vertical corridor.

While he was gone the room rearranged itself into a contemporary format. The furniture grounded itself and shifted into a normal living room.

Danny returned with a cart and a headset. He placed a card he pulled out of the cart into the headset and put it on the dazed Superboy's head.

"Wait what is that?" Tim asked.

"It's his memories. I kept a backup in case this happened." Danny shrugged.

Immediately everyone began asking what the hell does that mean and why does he have that.

"Oh please, this dimension has this happened all the time. Amnesia is so cliché and cheap. I saw a pattern and decided the easiest way to prevent you from losing the entirety of your lives was to make save states of your memories." Danny said matter of fact.

Robin pinched the bridge of his nose.

Impulse studied the rack of cases and looking for the card with his name on it.

Wondergirl sighed, she was used to this from Robin but even he wouldn't go this far.

"What? It's not like just anyone can find these. Only you can access your own memories anyways. I just decided to repurpose my RE:Viewer." Danny pouted.

"What is a reviewer?" Wally asked flipping through the cases. Each one had titles like moves or shows with an arrangement of stickers.

"The RE:Viewer is something I created to catalog things I've seen looking into other dimensions. I don't have an infinite memory you know. But the longer I have my title the more I'll lose touch with my mortality. These things help me stay close to people by giving me the chance to remember how it feels. I also have been using them to get the stories of others. Keeping their experiences like you'd keep a TV show or movie. So many stories could have been lost to time but now they are saved. I use them to teach myself." Danny smiled.

The concept genuinely sounded interesting. Like experiencing a movie in 4d.

It had been 3 minutes before Kon took off the headset and back to his old self.

Danny pulled the input card out and it disappeared into another realm with a flick of the wrist. Danny was completely honest that the copies were inaccessible to everyone but him.

"You feeling alright Superboy? Your memory should be backed up until a week ago." Danny said shining a light in his eye.

"I'm fine. I think. What happened?" Kon asked batting the light out of his eyes.

"Explanation later. Take a nap first. You aren't concussed at least." Danny informed.

"What are the stickers for?" Wally said pointing at the rainbow of colors the card cases had.

"Just the emotions associated with the experiences. Orange is comedy, red is action, pink is romance, and blue is tragedy." Danny listed. "That one with the pink is one of my favorites. I meddled a bit in that world. Two people who had never met fell in love at two points at different times. One of them was doomed to die but I worked my magic on a mirror that allowed them to meet once. They shared notes left in different places for the other months ahead. Makes you believe in true love. A real tear-jerker."

"What about the black stickers?" Wally asked.

"Don't touch the black ones," Danny said darkly, smacking his hand away. "You don't need to know about those. I don't like thinking about them."

"So you just take the memories of others and put them inside your machine to replay later?" Batgirl asked. "Isn't that kind of wrong?"

"No, I asked permission. I usually pull them aside at some point and ask. If it's my memories (that's the green stickers) I don't need to. The rainbow ones are simulations. Like a video games." Danny responded patting her on the back for not being to hard on him about this admittedly weird situation.

"So what's the black one with the rainbow sticker?" Wally asked picking up the case that was obviously stuffed in the back.

"STOP TOUCHING THOSE!" Danny yelled pulling him away.

[inkykeiji]

Hii Clari, i agree that a lot of dialog and character development in genshin is very lacking, and the characters become interesting AFTER they go through the readers' filter and we fill their personalities. I know you are no longer writing for the genshin men but do you plan to share any of the pieces you were working on even though they are discontinued? Regardless, have a great day <3

hi anon bb!! exactly!!!!!! exactly. the characters are pretty much just a collection of traits and a handful of memories with a name slapped on them. we, as the players, can then take those traits and make something out of them—make them more cohesive, or explore how we personally think the character would act and behave in a specific situation based on the collection of traits the game gave them. and for the type of game genshin is, that’s fine! like it clearly isn’t a game that’s super focused on character development and depth, especially since again the main goal is to keep players spending money and grinding for the new characters that are constantly being churned out, making the other characters feel just like cardboard acquaintances you meet once or twice and then move on from as they stay static or disappear completely. it’s a lot more focused on gameplay and combat, and that’s okay, it just isn’t my thing.

i do plan to share those pieces, but they’re being reworked for other characters that aren’t the genshin men. so the alhaitham x reader x ajax piece will either be for keigo n dabi or chuuya n dazai; the tutor!alhaitham piece is now for clive, and the royal!au with ajax n thoma i have no idea what to do with, but i’m sure i’ll figure it out. the point is, i put so much work into those stories and love them way way waaaay too much for them to just sit abandoned in my documents. when will these be released??? no idea. i’m so dang behind on literally all of my writing; work has me totally swamped atm, life has just been super chaotic in general, and yesterday someone very close to me suffered congestive heart failure, so i’ve just been having trouble finding the time to work on anything other than my tiny lil prompt pieces :( you’re so sweet, thank you so much!! i hope your weekend is going splendid <3

[prompt-heaven]

the ultimate list of AUs, kinks and tropes to inspire you for kinktober 

some of these are darker in nature since that is fitting for the spooky season. 

AUs

academic / teacher / professor / tutor 

addams family

babysitter / nanny

bartender

biker

bodyguard

bonnie and clyde

bounty hunter

boxer 

camp counselor

circus / carnival

cult 

demon / angel

fairytale retelling

fantasy 

farmer

firefighter

guardian angel 

historical 

hybrid

mafia / mob 

magic 

maid / butler 

mechanic 

modern 

monster / mythology / supernatural

paranormal investigator 

pirate / mermaid

post-apocalyptic

priest

prison

rockstar 

royalty

serial killer

sex worker / porn / camgirl/boy / stripper 

slasher

soulmate

spy / secret agent

steampunk / cyber punk

sugar daddy

tattoo artist 

time travel

treasure hunter 

vampire

werewolf 

wild west

TROPES

a/b/o

against a wall 

age gap

amnesia / memory loss

anonymous sex

balcony sex

boss x employee 

brothers best friend / dad’s best friend (dbf)

car sex

cheating

clothed sex

comforting sex

coworkers to lovers

cursed / fuck or die / sex pollen

dark / soft!dark

enemies to lovers

exes to lovers

fake relationship

forbidden romance

friends to lovers

friends with benefits

game gone wrong

hate sex / make-up sex

huddle for warmth

just the tip

library sex

loss of virginity

mirror sex

neighbours to lovers 

only one bed

opposites attract

period sex

pool / hot tub sex

predator / prey

professor x student

public / semi-public sex

revenge sex

reverse harem

romantic sex

roommates to lovers

rough sex

seduction

sex in an alley

sex in exchange for a favour

sex while camping

shower / bath sex

stalker

stepcest

table sex

unrequited love

yandere

KINKS

aftercare

anal 

begging

being recorded / taking pictures

body worship

dom / sub / bondage / bdsm / shibari

breath play / choking

cheating

cockwarming

corruption kink 

costumes / uniforms

creampie / breeding / forced breeding

cuckolding

cum in panties

cumplay

cunnilingus / face sitting / rimming / blowjob / deep throating / gagging

dacryphillia

dirty talk / voice kink

double penetration / double penetration in one hole 

dry humping / thigh riding 

dubcon / noncon / cnc / drugging

dumbification

exhibitionism / voyeurism

fingering

fisting

flashing 

food play 

footjob 

forced orgasm

formal wear 

free use

glory hole

glove kink 

hand kink

handjob 

hole inspection

humiliation / degradation

hunter / prey

impact play / spanking / whipping / hair pulling / pain kink

jealousy / sharing / possessive

knife kink / gun kink

lingerie / stockings / socks

massage

masturbation / caught masturbating / mutual masturbation

medical kink

monsterfucking / tentacles

multiple orgasms

orgasm denial / overstimulation / edging

threesome / orgy / gangbang

partner swap 

pegging

piercings

pillow humping

praise kink 

premature ejaculation / cuming untouched

pussyjob

roleplay

role reversal

ruined orgasm / cuming without permission

sensory deprivation 

sexting / phone sex 

facial / swallowing / bukakke

size kink / size difference / belly bulge

skirt stays on

somnophilia / getting fucked to sleep

spit kink

squirting

stripping / lap dance

teasing 

temperature play

thigh fucking

throat training

titty fucking

toys / object insertion 

OTHER PROMPTS

a ritual gone wrong 

a string of unexplained deaths

a summer fling gone horrible wrong, or right

alian abduction 

art come to life

basement wife 

being paralysed 

blackmail 

caught trespassing on private property

college party gone wrong

crazy ex

curiosity killed the cat

fate worse than death

final girl

getting stranded in a little town that’s not as wholesome as it seems

ghostface

halloween party

haunted house / abandoned house 

haunted object 

hitch-hiking gone wrong

hot neighbour that has an obsession with you

i was sent here to assassinate you but now i think i might be in love with you

Items moving and/or going missing

i’ll find you in every universe / century

kidnapping

lost in a maze

mad scientist 

magical healing 

marriage / wedding / arranged marriage/ forced marriage 

mind control / telepathy

mirrors playing tricks on the mind

oh, you had a long day? use me as your personal sex toy in order to unwind

oops, i summoned a demon 

oops, i’m dating a serial killer

playing games (like seven minutes in heaven, spin the bottle, hide and seek, etc.) but they have a slutty/dark twist to them

possession (ghost or demon)

power outage

ritual / sacrifice / blood magic

road trip

secret room

serial killers fucking in front of hostages

stalker landlord

stalker wearing the same costume as your partner 

stockholm syndrome

the return of a villain thought dead

torture

toxic frat boy

waking up from strange dreams and seeing bruises and marks on your skin that correspond exactly with the dream you just woke from

we’re the last people on the planet and you will be mine

you wake up strapped to a table just as a fuck machine is turned on

[ckret2]

So I wanted an excuse to imagine the modern characters meeting baby Bill and to do impossible sci-fi things to Bill's brain in Theraprism. And throw in an amnesia plot just because.

Since escaping Theraprism didn't work, Bill's decided to cheat. Unfortunately the only official way a patient leaves Theraprism is via reincarnation, which means losing his memories. But he's found a way to trick them into releasing him, AND guarantee he'll get his memories back.

All he has to do is REMOVE his so-called "traumatic" memories (which TOTALLY didn't traumatize him, he SWEARS), get cleared to leave, and then reabsorb his memories later.

And he does this by... physically separating his various traumatic experiences into separate people. With magic.

Each removed facet of Bill's past only remembers their own portion of his memories, with only hazy memories of anything before their assigned era.

In effect this means Bill's memory clones work as if some time traveler had plucked a bunch of Bills from different points in his life out of the timeline: a baby Bill with baby memories, a child Bill with child memories, etc. And one modern Bill who doesn't remember much of anything anymore.

It's totally working, though! This is the most mentally healthy Bill's EVER BEEN. He's. He's SO mentally healthy, guys. Menetally healthy. Mealthy. he's f ine.

Please believe him.

He's gonna convince the therapists there's nothing wrong with him in NO time.

(The irony is that, lacking the baggage of a trillion years of medical trauma, fear of captivity, and distrust of authority, he might actually go "Whoa, I think something's wrong with me. Don't discharge me, I need help." Another flawless Bill plan backfires!)

Meanwhile, he's smuggled all his memory clones out of Theraprism and they're just running around somewhere. It's fine! He can find them when he's free! Bill can't think of any reason why a bunch of lost children who look exactly like Bill Cipher would run into any trouble! Especially since he can't remember doing anything that would make a lot of people hate him or anything like that!

they'll be fine don't worry about it

[sunnylighter]

New chapter is up

Summary:

Rioichi whips Sly back into shape while Bentley and Murray go fishing.