#cw memory loss

[tangledinink]

Swanatello question: does Sheldon ever get to visit his dad? Does Donnie remember him okay? How is the little guy coping?

It's OK-- Shelldon is alive! And he does visit Donnie sometimes! Donnie has a pretty good track record in recognizing him! While the rest of the family is focused on Donnie, while they do still do some crimefighting, this has, in fact, mostly been taken over by Team Casey! Casey and Casey Jr. (and sometimes Shelldon) have been watching over NYC in the turtles' absence. Donnie typically isn't able to recognize Casey or Casey Jr; he just doesn't know either of them well enough.

[onejellyfishplease]

SnapDonnie, Confusion, Part 3

lol he forgor

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[hiro-doodlez]

People dont talk about inks memory loss/problems enough so i thought id draw it :3

[amaryllidaceaee]

he forgot

[artofmyraid]

Oooooo it's a Ghost!sif and Possessed!Siffrin based one-shot, spoooky.

(Technically, this can also count as Canon-compliant.)

Minor in stars and time spoilers, y'know island north of Vaugarde stuff and minor Siffrin backstory stuff.

Cws; implied death, depictions of drowning, panic attacks, and Siffrin-typical memory issues, read with caution :3

(he really goes through it in this one)

Also, this is my first time posting any writing of mine, so any feedback is appreciated!

(Especially about how I wrote Siffrin, wanna know how I did for my first time)

You hate potatoes, you hate them, their mushy and gross, and you're sick of eating them.

You are storming away from your house, ignoring the distant yelling of your parents telling you to come back, you have an idea...

Just... a small prank, to take your families fishing boat out to sea, just for a bit, you'd be right back.

You know how to operate the boat, you've done it plenty of times with your family members.

You won't go too far either, you just want to scare them a little bit.

You feel your shoes sink into the black sand. Shells and rocks glitter in the moonlight.

The beach looks like it's very own night sky.

It isn't long after you reach the beach that you see your families dock in the distance. You can see the fishing boat bobbing slowly up and down in the water beside it.

You speed up, you don't think they'll follow you, yet... but you don't want to get caught sneaking away with the boat until you're out in the water, at least.

Hopping into the boat, you feel the boat sway underneath your weight, and you bring out your arms, trying to keep your balance.

When you're sure you're properly balanced, you grab the rope that's keeping the boat tethered to the dock and begin to untie it.

You let out a tiny "whoop!" when the knot comes undone with little to no struggle!

You gently push against the dock, and the boat begins to float away, grabbing the oar you start to row away from the shore.

You row, row, and row, you look back when you feel like you've been rowing for long enough.

You look behind you, you can still see the shore, there are lights out on the beach, you can't make out many more details, it's too dark from this distance.

This is far enough, you decide.

You look to the sky and you stare at the stars.

They look so pretty out here...

The island is almost entirely unlit at night so that the light pollution doesn't pollute the sky and block the stars.

But looking at the stars has always been nicer on the water, in your opinion.

Their everywhere out here... they reflect against the water, everything around you is lit up, its almost like you're one with the stars.

You lay against the side of the boat, watching the stars. You start to point out constellations, you point towards Ursa major, a part of it is the big dipper, you trace it's path to the north star, Polaris.

Polaris, your mother always says that if you're lost to look for Polaris, and it will guide you home.

Polaris is a part of Ursa minor, you remember, you trace the constellation with your finger. Tracing Ursa minor until you land on the constellation for Draco.

You continue this for a while, letting the gentle sway of the waves lull you into serenity.

It's just you, the stars, and the sea out here. You and the universe

You breathe in, and out... your eyes begin to flutter close, it's so calming out here...peace and quiet.

. . .

Your eyes snap open, you're jolted awake when a particularly strong wave rocks the boat. You tense, feeling your body jolt up.

How long have you been out here???

Your head snaps behind you.

You can't see the shore anymore, you realize.

Your breathing hitches, you spin your body around, already grabbing the oar...

...

You realize...

You don't remember what you were doing...

What are you doing out here? Were you... looking for something?

You drop the oar in the boat, You look around, seeing nothing but water. You feel your anxiety start to rise, your breathing grows unsteady.

You don't remember, you don't remember, what are you forgetting.

You try to find answers, anything from your memory, any reminders.

But nothing comes up.

Suddenly, you're hit with another realization.

You can't remember anything, a home, a... family, a name even, you... don't remember who you are.

( Who are you? )

You are thrown into a full-blown panic attack at the realization, your head hurts, thinking is making it worse. Your hands move making their way under your hat as you start to pull at your hair.

You... need to find land, you realize.

You take a few shaky breaths, you breathe in. . . And out. You continue that a few more times for a while.

Once your breathing is steady and the pain in your head is duller, you start to look around again.

You're at sea, you know that, with nothing else but a boat and an oar.

...But which way do you go to find land?

You don't even think about it as you look to the sky... you stare at the bright lights looking for something...

...you aren't sure what.

You just remember their important, that's something... at least.

You breathe in.... and out.

Your gaze lingers on the brightest star in the sky... you look away.

You have a really bad headache again, it feels like your mind is rebelling against you, it's making you dizzy...

You flinch when another strong wave rocks the boat, and water splashes you, leaving puddles inside the boat.

You grab the oar, gripping it tightly... you feel like there might be a storm coming... that's not good.

You breathe in and out. You swing your body around, picking the opposite direction, you start rowing,

You continue to row until your arms hurt, your breath hitches as you start to hear a distant rumble, the lights in the sky start to fade as lightless clouds quickly take their place.

You try to row faster as the waves grow aggressive. Your progress is hindered with every crash against the waves.

You row forward, and the waves push you back. A desperate dance of push and pull.

Which is, of course, when it starts to rain, it starts suddenly, you don't notice at first, you're already soaked from the waves.

But the drizzle almost immediately becomes a heavy downpour, and with it, the sea gets more aggressive. Working against your boats every movement, you hear it creak and wobble.

"No, no, no, no!" You squeeze your left eye shut when a splash of salt water hits the side of your face, you don't stop rowing. You aren't even sure you're moving forward anymore.

The sea pushes you back, and moves you forward, the boat is basically stagnant as you moves back and forth.

You see flashes of light even with your eyelids closed, followed by the rumbling thunder.

You feel sacred. You're terrified, you realize.

This feels like the worst possibility, no land, stuck in a storm with the sea working against your every move.

You gasp out when another bad wave crashes against your boat, you let out a yelp of surprise as you're thrown across the boat, you slam right into its side.

The impact causes you to drop the oar, it falls to the wayside.

The waves don't stop there.

Right after the first one you see an even bigger wave, one of the biggest waves you've ever seen. You stare at it wide eyed.

You grip onto the sides of the boat, holding tightly, you screw your eyes shut, taking one big gulp of air as you brace for impact...

.

.

.

*CRASH

.

.

*SPLASH

You're startled when you feel the water engulf you, the water is freezing cold upon impact, but you don't feel it that much after.

the waves bounce you back and forth like children fighting over a toy.

You open your eyes, the salt burns them but you keep looking up.

You force your aching arms to move as you swim upwards.

You manage to break the surface, gasping for air, you only get a moment to take another gulp of air before another wave pulls you under the surface once more.

You feel heavy, your soggy clothes are making swimming difficult, but you keep moving up, you have to.

Just when holding your breath starts getting difficult you manage to get your head above water once more.

You breathe in- and are immediately taken underwater, taking in a big gulp of water instead of air.

You immediately start to choke, and your body locks up as you feel salt water burn your throat.

In a sudden burst of energy, you ignore your bodies' protest as you push yourself up again.

You cough and cough, when you're finally met with air, you spit out water, but you don't have time.

You take in a painful breath of air, and then you are once again taken under the surface.

You continue to swim up, desperate, but suddenly, you start to feel the weight of your cloak against your body.

You can't swim up, YOU CANT REACH THE SURFACE OF THE WATER.

The waves push and pull. Any progress you make upwards is swept away as the waves push you further down.

You keep moving, keep treading, you can't hold your breath any longer-

Your lungs hurt so much. Your body burns in agony, the waters thrash against your body, and you realize that you are going to die.

You are going to die here. Alone, confused, gone, you'll disappear under the waters of the sea.

Would anybody notice you died? Are there people out there missing you? You can't remember, and you'll never get to find out, either.

As you find your body too heavy to move any longer, the searing pain in your lungs makes you unable to hold your breath for a second more...

You can't move, everything is cold and hot, you feel it as water starts to fill your lungs, your body is in too much pain to fight any longer...

You're so tired...

One, last time, you ignore the stinging in your eyes as open them, you look to the surface, and you see... light

So many lights, they feel...familiar to you.

You can't remember why, but seeing them again... makes you feel comforted.

...stars, your mind provides...

You feel your thoughts...start to become as murky as the water... slow, distant.

...you stare at the blurry streaking lights above you... closing your eyes... as you make out one last coherent thought...

You want to live, you wish to live, please!

The universe, the stars, anybody....

You just know there is so much out there... You...

You don't want to give up here!, you just want to live.

You... want to...

Sinking deeper into the lightless abyss with only the company of the streaking lights above you.

You find yourself unable to hold on any longer.

And

You

let

go...

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I like to HC that when Killer is in Stage 4, when Determination is at its highest peak, his zero concept of self and autonomy just makes it extremely Determined to be obedient and loyal to Chara— which means Chara can order it to do something that most wouldn’t be able to—other than come back after death and mess around with time itself of course—and ST4 would be so Determined to obey it’d find a way to do it.

Like, suppressing and altering his own memories is just something Killer is able to do in Stage 4 when it’s ordered to.

Like Killer encounters something that brings up happy memories of being Sans and it trigger him into Stage 1, and all Chara has to do is say/do something to trigger him into stage four, then tell him to suppress/forget that ever happened, and then tell him to forget that interaction between them entirely. Can tell him to go lay down and sleep somewhere, forget it all ever happened, and all Chara has to say is that it was a dream if ever confronted.

[avasefullofnations]

When I first watched Bly in 2020, I had to pause the show and take a break for a few hours because I was so angry when Owen called his mother an anchor. At that time I was my grandmother's on again off again caregiver who was expected to drop everything any time she needed me or my parents needed me as she had dementia and needed extra support. When watching the show I remember thinking 'how could anyone ever call someone with dementia that they care about their anchor? That's so demeaning to the person and it minimizes their humanity by reducing them to a thing weighing their caregiver down'.

My circumstances have changed now though. My grandmother passed away in January of last year and the last memorial service was held last summer.

I thought about Owen and his thoughts post funeral today and I realized that this has been the first year since I turned 18 that I didn't have to put my life on hold at any moment any time I needed to be a caregiver. I can actually build a life for myself. It was in that moment that I finally got Owen's monologue -- Owen cares about his mother but the act of caregiving is a draining sacrifice that will weigh down a person no matter how much love there is towards the person being cared for.

Bly Manor is such a special series because it talks about how draining caregiving is and shaping your life around another person, but, in the same breath, says do it anyways.

[fernsnailz]

i love reading your sonic loreposts i was wondering if you could please explain archie charmy to me, i have heard stuff and i am so curious but i am not a comics in general kinda person. the lsd poisoned friend or the brain damage literally just anything that happens to him your pick

hi anon i’m just going to go over everything that happens to archie charmy pre-reboot so i hopefully never have to talk about it after this. i'm sorry i'm so so sorry

Archie Charmy is subject to a lot of controversy and discussion because despite his limited role in the comics, he goes through some of the most batshit insane character and plot beats in the whole series (and that you’ve already mentioned). I’ll be skimming over some of the more boring parts, but the wild stuff I'll go pretty in-depth with.

I’ll also be attempting to explain WHY all of this happens to Charmy Bee of all characters, taking into account the context of the story, what was happening behind the scenes in the writer’s room, and even comic trends in general. I want to try and keep away from the very reactionary “wow archie sonic is sooooo crazy” discussion that happens around this stuff and hopefully provide a little more useful analysis. i talk about comic PSAs for a while so be warned

There are some very, very important content warnings that are coming with Archie Charmy lore: warning for non-consensual drug use and overdose (specifically LSD), child death, genocide, implied ableism, memory loss, implied age regression, breif homophobia mention (not related to charmy)

this is going to be a very long one. charmy lore under the cut

INTRODUCTION - CHAOTIX

Charmy Bee’s first appearance in Archie Sonic is in the Knuckles’ Chaotix special, which adapts the first game he appeared in. This issue introduces the entire Chaotix cast (six new characters) in a mere four pages, so Charmy doesn’t make much of an impression other than “bee who likes to explore and adventure.” He lacks that annoying little brother personality that he has in most Sonic media, and he’ll often speak with language that feels extremely out of character for the Charmy that most people know.

This is because this version of Charmy is based off of his character description from the Knuckles’ Chaotix game manual. Despite the series being based off of the video game franchise, the Archie Sonic writers were often given very little information about upcoming game releases from SEGA when they were asked to adapt them into the comics. Often they had to go digging for the canonical materials themselves - for example, the only way they were able to adapt Sonic Adventure into the comics is because Patrick Spaziante (one of the comic’s artists) had a Japanese version of the game that he bought himself. They had no English translation and zero guidance from SEGA, so they had to attempt to piece the story together without SEGA's help. This was the case with most of the game adaptations, and it was honestly a miracle that they had access to the manual for Knuckles’ Chaotix at all.

There’s just one problem: the manual for Knuckles’ Chaotix describes a version of Charmy that is very, very different from the one we know of today. It describes a 16-year old that is… sophisticated?

(sorry for the low quality, there aren't many images of the manual. also fun fact, there was no age for Charmy listed in the original Japanese manual)

Charmy's differing age and personality will lead to many, many problems, as the writers decided to give the “sophisticated” Charmy darker stories. This brings us to the Knuckles the Echidna mini-series.

The Knuckles mini-series is. Bad. Charmy Bee is certainly there for the first few issues (as are most of the Chaotix), but he doesn’t get much focus until issue 13.

I don’t know how to put this in a way that doesn’t sound extremely blunt: This is the issue where Charmy’s best friend overdoses on LSD and dies.

PART 1 - MELLO

Charmy's best friend is named Mello Bee. This is his first and last appearance in the series.

Mello started feeling strange on their return trip from Happyland, a sketchy theme park that recently reopened under new management. Charmy isn't sure why Mello died, but Constable Reminton (essentially the sheriff of Echidnopolis) reveals that there have been a series of cases similar to Mello's - cases where people were suffering from… Lemon Sundrop Dandelion poisoning.

The Chaotix go to Happyland to see if they can find the source of the poisoning, but what they don't know is that it's actually laced into the food. The manager of Happyland, Renfield T. Rodent, has been lacing the park's chili dogs with LSD in hopes of making everyone addicted to them. However, the amount of LSD he's been putting into the food is too much for most people to handle. This is probably the most insane paragraph I've had to write for one of these loreposts

Unknown to the Chaotix, they all start eating the chili dogs during their investigation (except for Julie-Su and Knuckles, who is absent) and start tripping balls.

Continuing the story into issue 14, Charmy’s LSD trip reveals that he’s actually the prince of a bee colony and has been running away from his responsibilities as a member of the royal family.

Charmy is knocked out for the rest of this arc as he goes through his trip - they have to operate on him and some other stuff happens I guess (Julie-Su gets thrown off of a roof, Knuckles fights some guys in a desert, Vector is a misogynist, stuff like that). At the end of issue 15, Charmy learns from his trip and returns to his family, temporarily leaving the Chaotix to return to his royal duties. Mello's family and his all mourn Mello's death and bury him back at their home.

So. What was the fucking point of all that

In the long-term, Charmy returning home to his family essentially writes him out of the story for a while. Knuckles the Echidna issue 15 released in 1998, and Charmy doesn't really return until 2001. While I'm not entirely sure what the reason for this was, there were so many members of the Chaotix that I honestly think this was an okay decision.

However, there's one very important question left to answer: Why was LSD and a drug overdose included in this arc at all?

When I first read this arc, I had a burning thought that I couldn't get out of my mind:

PART 1.5 - wait is this an anti-drug PSA?

(if you want to avoid me talking in-depth about the abilities of LSD and my ramble about comic PSAs for a while, you can skip to PART 2 where I continue the Charmy lore)

Comic PSAs (Public Service Announcements) and propaganda are a fundamental part of the medium’s history, whether it be to aid their country’s war efforts, give health information to their readers, or warn kids about the dangers of drug abuse. While a comic being used as a PSA isn’t inherently a bad thing, it’s usually VERY obvious. One of the most interesting ones I've found is a PSA that features Green Lantern debunking misinformation about the AIDS crisis. The image quality isn’t great, but the comic doesn’t hold back when talking about how the AIDS crisis is spreading homophobic ideology - if you read this, you know it’s a PSA and you know what message it’s trying to send. Sometimes propaganda can be subtle, but PSAs are usually loud.

(cw: homophobia)

This is why anti-drug PSAs are so common and so remembered - they’re over the top, they’re blunt (lol), and they have a very specific message they’re trying to send. For example, there’s an issue of New Teen Titans from 1983 that introduce a character called the Protector to teach kids about drug awareness where the issue literally starts with the Teen Titans in an auditorium telling kids about a dangerous drug. This issue also includes some bad trip imagery, and it’s uh… honestly i kinda love this

Anti-drug PSAs usually don’t work for this very reason - showing how a drug affects fictional characters can increase interest in the substance, and a single superhero telling someone to stop smoking is not going to break someone’s addiction.

So. Is Knuckles the Echidna issues 13-15 an anti-drug PSA?

Probably not, but if it is it’s doing a fucking terrible job of it

Some of the main factors of a PSA are the information it's presenting, the opinion it wants the consumer to develop, and the bluntness of its presentation. While this part of the Knuckles series is certainly over the top, the rest of these factors are really muddy. First, anti-drug PSAs usually don’t create a fake drug to replace the one they’re advising against. An anti-weed campaign will just tell you that weed is bad because that’s the opinion it wants you to walk away with. So when Knuckles issue 13 introduces a substance called “Lemon Sundrop Dandelion” and never actually refers to it as LSD, it’s less of a message about “drug bad” and more just a sly nudge and wink that goes “hey you see that? yeah, that’s drug.”

Then there’s the problem that there isn’t really much of a lesson to be had from these issues regarding drug use. Yes, Mello dies horrifically of an overdose, but most of the cast is able to walk off the trip like it’s nothing. Charmy needs to be operated on, but the doctors literally treat it like it’s fucking NOTHING

he's literally talking about how he told a patient that couldn't afford surgery to go to the butcher like HUH?????

In fact, Charmy’s trip seems to help him in the long run - he’s forced to face his past, and eventually returns to his family because of the literal guilt trip he has. It’s a fundamental part of his character arc.

This isn’t to say that I wish these issues were explicitly drug PSAs - I bring all of this up because these issues were released in 1998, in an era where the anti-drug movement was arguably at its peak. The people working on these comics would KNOW its content is similar to and even promotes the anti-drug movement. While I don't consider these issues to be an anti-drug PSA, they can definitely serve as anti-drug propaganda.

With this in mind, considering Knuckles the Echidna as a form of propaganda really opens up how utterly terrible these issues are. These comics can be genuinely harmful pieces of anti-drug propaganda because the way they use LSD to advance they plot is untrue to how the drug actually works and relies entirely on fear mongering. While LSD can be laced into other substances like drinks, it probably wouldn't last long in cooked meat - LSD usually degrades at higher temperatures, and telling comic readers that they need to be afraid of LSD-laced fair food is fucking stupid and likely based on false urban legends. Not only that, but Renfield T. Rodent’s plot to addict everyone to his LSD chili dogs is also fucking stupid because LSD is not considered an addictive substance. It can be extremely dangerous at high or multiple doses, but LSD does not normally lead to compulsive use.

I don’t talk about all of this to be a cinemasins guy or to nitpick a comic from 1998, and I also don't want to imply that PSAs can't spread lies and misinformation (anti-drug PSAs famously over-exaggerate things). I bring all of this up to show an ineffective and possibly dangerous use of something that could be considered anti-drug propaganda. Spreading blatantly untrue information and placing false fears into a reader’s mind is truly incompetent on the writer’s behalf, especially considering that this comic was targeted at kids. And that’s not even mentioning that there’s barely any moral to all of this. There’s no lesson and they never talk about this again.

Do I think this was all intentional on the behalf of the writers? I have no idea. I have no goddamn idea what they were thinking with this one, and I honestly don't think much thought was put into this arc at all. Maybe this was a strange attempt to make a Sonic-themed anti-drug PSA, maybe they were just inspired by the drug PSAs of their time when writing this, or maybe they just did not care. I don't know man. Anti-drug propaganda is stupid and it doesn't work and these comics drive me crazy

alright enough of that. let's talk about genocide

PART 2 - SAFFRON

don’t worry this part will be shorter (cheering and clapping)

Like I mentioned a while back, Charmy is essentially written out of the story for a while after the Mello incident. While living in the Golden Hive Colony, he reunites with another friend, Saffron Bee. Saffron becomes Charmy’s girlfriend, and they’re together for basically the rest of the comic. Usually if Charmy shows up, Saffron is there too.

(image of Charmy and Saffron I stole from... the Shipping Wiki??)

They eventually return to help Chaos Knuckles, a green version of Knuckles who is uh. Kinda going through it. Not much important Charmy lore needs to be discussed here, but some of his actions do eventually lead to him creating a genocidal villain that will cause many problems later. Don’t worry about it.

Things are quiet for a while for Charmy and Saffron. That is, until Eggman attacks their colony and wipes out most of its population.

Charmy and Saffron are the only survivors we see from the Golden Hive Colony. Eggman transforms the colony into a new base and traps its residents in an invention of his called the Egg Grapes - basically, he puts Mobians in these little pods that sap all of their life force, powering his empire. Most people do not survive the Egg Grapes.

The two bees return to join the Chaotix for a little while, and the rest of the Chaotix confirm that the Golden Hive Colony and its residents are truly gone. Espio destroys what’s left of the colony so Eggman can’t use it as a base, and no other survivors from the colony are found.

So. yeah what the fuck

Archie Sonic is known to have a LOT of characters - I’ve talked about the sheer number of echidnas the series has before, but there are a lot of characters that have massive extended families. The arc where Mello died introduced like eight new bee characters, but most of them were background characters that didn’t need to stick around.

Most people cite writer Ian Flynn’s debut to the series as when a lot of these unneeded/background characters were written out or killed off, and I agree since one of his objectives as a writer was to tighten up the story. However, the trend of “Archie background characters getting killed off or written out” started a little bit before he joined the team. There’s the destruction of the Golden Hive, and many echidnas in this arc suffer from the horrors of war - a number die off after Charmy and Saffron rejoin the Chaotix. yeah it's kinda fucked up

This is the second major arc where Charmy has lost people close to him - first Mello, and now his entire family and kingdom. The same goes for Saffron - they only have each other left. I mean the Chaotix are also there but still, trauma is trauma

How could it get any worse?

PART 3 - CHARMY

Remember how Archie Charmy is based off of the Knuckles’ Chaotix manual? The one that said he was sophisticated and 16?

This is about to cause a few problems.

At this point, it’s around 2007. The Knuckles’ Chaotix manual is terribly outdated, and most versions of Charmy within canon are 6 year-old kids. Charmy is known to be the annoying comedic relief, which is the exact opposite from how he’s portrayed in Archie Sonic.

So when SEGA asked writer Ian Flynn to change Archie Sonic to be like his video game counterpart, the solution was uh. well. it could have been handled better

Like how he obliterated the Golden Hive Colony, Eggman’s next target to destroy is Knothole, the city where Sonic and the Freedom Fighters all live. It’s a surprise to all of the residents, and he manages to teleport most of the population into his Egg Grapes. Before Sonic can save them, Eggman singles out Charmy to be used as an example of how the Egg Grapes work.

Sonic and friends manage to get Charmy out, but not before the damage is already done. In the limited amount of time the Grape sapped his life force, Charmy’s memory was partially wiped and personality changed forever. After this, Charmy has very little memory of the Golden Hive Colony at all, only seeming to remember Saffron and his friends. His becomes much more child-like, similar to his game counterpart.

the fucking sigh i just sighed

For clarification, Charmy is still 16. The only thing that was altered was his mind, with the intention to make his personality more in-line with his goofy video game counterpart. The problem is that giving a character brain damage to turn them into a comedic relief character is fucked up and unintentionally ableist.

This is something that writer Ian Flynn identified pretty early and openly regrets (I’m not sure what the source of that statement is, I’m assuming an episode of Bumblekast but I’m don’t know which one. I’ll edit this if I find it). Because of this, he mostly kept Charmy out of any comedic situations for the rest of the series. Charmy has a very limited role in the series after this until the reboot, only appearing sporadically and in one Sonic Universe arc. When he does show up, his childish demeanor is usually met with the patience of the Chaotix and their sad expressions.

Although the intention was to make Archie Charmy more like his game counterpart, in practice I honestly think this action only made Archie Charmy even MORE distant from his game character. From the Egg Grape incident to the reboot, Archie Charmy’s trauma never leaves my mind and leaves me feeling strangely hollow.

CONCLUSION - WHAT THE FUCK

I find the Archie Sonic series unfathomably fascinating. While I love the series, I can’t deny that most of the events I went over are poorly handled by the writing team and leave the series with such a strange legacy. With Archie Sonic, it’s often incredibly easy to see the biases of the writers and how they affect the characters and stories, leading to some genuinely fucked up moments that could have easily been avoided in my opinion.

Archie Charmy was really one of the characters that got it the worst, but it's honestly so strange that all of this happened to him specifically. The fact that all of this shit happens to a silly little bee is so, so Archie Sonic to me. Charmy is such a simple character to understand - he's a funny kid who's kinda annoying and hard to handle. So when I look back and see the 3,000+ words I just wrote about Archie Charmy... fucking hell why did i do that

In conclusion. I am sorry and do not become a comics person

thanks for reading if you got this far. as always let me know if i need to tag any other content warnings or if there was anything i got wrong! alright good night tristate area

[shaanks]

I wrote something. Lmfao. It was initially just meant to kind of expand on my text post from earlier, but it turned into a little ficlet so I figured I'd share it. Why not, right?

fem!oc x Eustass Kid. sfw, cw: memory loss, unreality. (everything will be tagged in the actual tags section for blacklisting purposes)

word count - 2392

genres: hurt/comfort, horror if you squint, fluff towards the end, modern AU for the aesthetic lmfao.

**

There was a sound like an explosion, the blare of a car horn wailing over screaming metal, the scent of rubber hot and acrid in the air. In the light of the vending machine, Av jumped, whirling around, air catching in her throat only to find—nothing.

The street behind her was empty, devoid of everything but the blinking yellow of a streetlight, and the gentle pattering of rain. The asphalt was pristine, the clean lines slick with rain shone gold in the intermittent light, the sidewalk empty of trash, of age, of anything that might suggest human interaction.

Av craned her neck, head half-turned away from the bright white glow of the machine, looking up at the apartments around her. Neat, identical rows, 10 across, 10 high. All of the windows were darkened, the curtains drawn; each balcony held one or two suggestions of an occupant—a hanging plant here, a chair there, the peek of a bike seat or a laundry line extended across the space, but it was impersonal. Nondescript. A facsimile of habitation, without any indication of personhood, of decision, of individuality.

She looked down, frowning at her shoes, the light of the vending machine ever-present in her periphery. Her sneakers, at least, looked old. Well-worn, if a little plain, the white soles marked with dirt and use. She could see that the shoelaces were wet from the rain, could feel the water soaking through the threadbare canvas, her fingertips grasping at her jacket sleeves in absent concern. That was real. She felt real. Beneath her the ground felt solid, her face felt cool and damp in the slight breeze.

But what had made that sound? Another glance behind her confirmed the space to be empty still, and she hadn’t heard anything else. No voices raised in alarm, no distant car alarms blared to life, jostled by the impact—or what she had assumed must have been one. The night seemed undisturbed, save for the pounding of her heartbeat, just a little too loud in her ears.

Worrying at her lip, she turned back towards the glass display case, eyes flickering along the rows of drinks for sale. Black coffee with sugar, black coffee with no sugar, coffee with cream, with sweet cream. Six different energy drinks, a glass bottle of 7-UP that looked like it was from 30 years ago, and a solitary bottle of unlabeled water.

Surely that sound had been important, hadn’t it? It had been real enough to make her ears ring, to spike adrenaline through her like a live-wire.

Black coffee with sugar, black coffee with no sugar, coffee with cream—

Av frowned deeper, digging around in her pocket for the soft pack of cigarettes and her lighter. She was forgetting something, she knew she was, something that fluttered infuriatingly around the edges of her mind like a disoriented moth. She slotted the cigarette between her lips, the paper filter sticking slightly from the damp, the flame of the lighter momentarily adding a heat and warmth to the night that felt almost alien.

Smoke filled her lungs, hot and acrid like burnt rubber.

Six different energy drinks, a glass bottle of 7-UP that looked like it was from 30 years ago—

Inhale, exhale, plumes of breath and smoke that rose from her lips towards the dreary, impenetrable darkness of the sky above her, towards clouds that roiled thick and heavy with rain and nothing else. Surely, she thought, nothing else, although part of her knew that even when she’d tilted her head up to examine the apartment building, she’d been careful not to look any higher.

The worn rubber of her sneakers tap tap tapped against the sidewalk, making small wet spattering sounds as the movement displaced a puddle, and still she stood, smoking, making no decisions.

‘I should be cold,’ she thought, exhaling again, flicking ashes onto the street in a move that felt almost spiteful against the unnatural perfection upon which she stood. ‘How long have I been out here? What time is it?’

Her body shook a little, though she felt no colder than she had moments ago. She couldn’t bring herself to speak, her voice stopped in her throat—by disuse, perhaps. Or by fear.

The sound of sizzling brought her attention momentarily to the present, as a fat droplet of water fell, extinguishing her cigarette halfway through. Av took it from between her lips and stared at it. It felt...cruel. Intentional, perhaps. Irrationally, she wondered whether the street itself hadn’t responded to the slight bit of ash by extinguishing its source. Something about that wording made her shiver again, and she glanced around for a trash can, somewhere appropriate to throw it away, but of course, the street was devoid of any such thing.

A desire welled up inside her to simply throw it on the ground, to grind the ash and paper and unused tobacco into the sidewalk just to see what would happen...but in the end she thought better of it, and tucked it into her pocket instead. Her clothes would probably stink, but that was okay, she could just hang them out to dry.

Hang them out to dry. Out to dry.

Black coffee with sugar, black coffee with no sugar—

Did she have a clothes line? A balcony? She couldn’t remember for some reason. Had she even locked the door on her way out?

Av glanced around, the bright blue-white of the vending machine blinding in her periphery. Did she live on this street? Had she walked far to get here?

Was one of these nondescript apartments hers?

—the blare of a car horn wailing over screaming metal, six different energy drinks, a glass bottle of 7-UP that looked like it was from 30 years ago—

The sound was deafening, the smell of coffee like cigarette smoke like burned rubber like asphalt like hot metal stinging her nose and she squeezed her eyes shut, tepid fingertips curling into fists over her ears, she wanted to scream, to run, but she couldn’t remember where she lived, where to go, the sky pressed down on the wet asphalt and the white-blue burned out the gold of the street light and the darkness was bright bright bright through her eyelids and—

“You okay?”

Av yelped, her voice tearing free of a throat that felt like musty old paper, as she whipped around towards the sound. The voice.

There was a man standing about ten feet away from her, the campus buildings behind him looking ghostly and pallid in the blue-white of the vending machine light. Av blinked, the ghosts of a car horn, of a flashing yellow light, of melted rubber and blank apartments and a roiling dark sky fading from her mind like a half-remembered dream.

They were at school, she thought, the words wafting over her mind like a cool breeze, like rain. School. University? He was an adult, at least, and she felt like she must be one.

The man had retreated several steps at her startled sound, and he raised his hands slightly in placation before tugging at the straps of his backpack, pulling them tight in a motion that seemed too absent to have been intentional. He was nervous?

‘Most people get nervous when strange women linger by vending machines and scream when you address them, I’d wager,’ she thought, sighing with something between exasperation and relief.

The sound was normal enough to lower the man’s hackles. He was awfully tall, and seemed aware of it, ducking his head slightly and squinting into the light of the vending machines to see her better. Golden-orange eyes flickered in the light like traffic lights, on and off, on and off as he took a tentative step towards her. Calculating, like he was trying to make himself seem less threatening, like he didn’t want to spook her further.

It had been too long since he’d spoken to her, too long that she’d just been staring at him with distant, distracted eyes, but the startled noise had done little to awaken her actual voice. It was an effort, like raising an anchor from the bottom of the sea, to answer him, the words sounding willowy and thin in her ears.

“Ah yeah—sorry. Long day,” Av rasped softly, gesturing around. The big guy grinned a little, droplets of water falling from thick, red hair, and she found herself frowning again.

“Figured,” He said, tilting his head slightly, watching her expression carefully before continuing, “stopped by chem to bring you lunch and they said you didn’t show. S’not like you,” He paused, tilting his head the other way, and she felt her heart begin to race.

She knew him. They had classes together, he was bringing her lunch. Friend? Brother? Boyfriend? She felt her cheeks heat up at that last, glancing over him, and decided perhaps that must be the case. He’d closed the distance at some point when she’d been digging through her memory for clues, and she almost jumped when he smudged a thumb over her cheek, running a raindrop across the blush. Would have jumped, in fact, if the motion hadn’t seemed so tender, so intimately familiar.

“I don’t remember why I’m out here, Kid,” his name fell from her lips without thinking, more muscle memory than conscious thought, that willowy quality of her voice accompanied by embarrassment, by a fear that made her feel small.

He didn’t answer her for a long moment, those strange golden-hued eyes flickering intently over her expression. If he felt anything beyond concern, he gave no indication of it, instead lifting his hand from her cheek to ruffle it through her hair. Eustass Kid was warm. She sighed into the contact. Maybe she had been cold before. Maybe there just hadn’t been enough contrast to notice.

Eustass Kid. Black coffee no sugar. Black coffee with sugar. Black coffee with c—

“Hey hey,” he finally said, pushing her hair back from her forehead, tipping her head up to look at him in the process. The sky behind him loomed, too dark, too thick with clouds, wrong in a way that she couldn’t settle upon.

They were at university. She was taking a chemistry class. This was her boyfriend.

Six different energy drinks, a 7-UP b—

Her eyes settled back on his, her hand moving to grasp at his shirt and she breathed. Breathed.

Kid seemed to mull over his words, rolling them around in his mouth as he tried to find the right order, the right tone. He opened his mouth, thought better of it, closed it again, and then sighed softly, running his thumb over her forehead now, in an arc up into her hair.

“Doc said this was gonna be a shitty day. This time of year’s probably gonna suck for a while.” His voice sounded rough too, she noted, his expression pinching into a grimace around the words he seemed reluctant to say.

A scar, still angry and red and new, dipped jagged over his eye, down onto his cheek, spilling like red paint into her vision. How had she not seen that before? Had it always been there? She raised her hand from his shirt, fingertips ghosting up towards his face. He made no move to stop her, just watched until her hand was close enough to lean into, his skin warm against her palm.

There was a sound like an explosion, the blare of a car horn wailing over screaming metal—

Av’s face crumpled as she stroked her thumb over the scar.

“Because of the accident.” she whispered, her voice soft and wet like pattering rain.

“Yeah,” he kissed her palm. She nodded.

She still couldn’t remember much about the street, about the car that had swerved into them, about the hours and days in the hospital. Just the sound of the car horn, the way the tires had screeched and bled acrid smoke into the night air, the way not one light had turned on in the balconies overhead.

The doctors had said that memory loss was common in cases like this, with head injuries, with sudden traumatic events. The symptoms would fade, she’d been assured. Routines would help. Familiar scenery. A return to normalcy. All these things would speed her recovery. And yet, as with everything else, she still couldn’t quite remember how long they said it would take.

Her therapist had suggested grounding exercises for when she got lost, or her mind began to race, but the only thing she seemed capable of remembering with any consistency was the stupid vending machine outside of the dorms.

Kid followed her gaze to the faded offerings behind the glass, expression twisting into something half amused as he knocked against it with his knuckle, releasing her head to do so.

“S’funny, you’d think they’d restock the fucking thing eventually,” he said, the gravel of his voice low, thoughtful. “Hasn’t had anything in it since we’ve been here except—”

“A solitary bottle of unlabeled water,” Av supplied, grimacing a little at how practiced and robotic it sounded, but Kid just laughed.

“Yeah, that. Couldn’t even spring for some fuckin Dasani,” he muttered, fumbling in his pocket for a second before retrieving his wallet. He fished out a crumpled dollar bill and fed it into the old machine, fighting with it for a moment before it finally accepted the offering. The sound it made when he hit the button was like grinding metal and she tensed at the sound; wordlessly, he pulled her against his large frame, and this time when she breathed there was no hint of burning rubber or wet asphalt. He plucked the water bottle from the basin when the thing finally decided to relinquish it, and pressed it into her hands with a flourish.

“Bone apple teeth,” Kid intoned, grinning as if to show off his, and it was so absurd in that moment that she laughed, breath pluming up towards the sky. His grinned widened, clearly pleased that the joke had landed—relieved to hear the warmth in that sound.

“C’mon,” he squeezed her, turning her away from the blue-white light of the vending machine, towards the comforting darkness of the night. “Let’s go, it’s fuckin freezing out.”

Av, fingers blissfully cool around the water bottle, smiled back. “Yeah.”

**

[darkcotl]

Sometimes, Shamura will forget that they aren’t divine anymore. This wouldn’t be an issue— just a matter of putting them back in their place— except… they forget that they have a mortal body. That they need to eat. So instead of the divine punishment for their hubris or whatever, the Lamb needs to delegate people to care for Shamura.

and, if they perhaps choose people who would much prefer to kick shamura around a little… well, even gods must have fun!

[clever-pennname]

Memory Recall

Limbo Prompt first draft! Prompt from [post link]

Summary: Sidney is having troubles remembering somebody important.

Content warnings: Amnesia and memory loss, minor (accidental) self harm, distressing thought patterns, repetitive thinking/phrasing

Sidney trailed off from her diary entry, something she had been struggling to keep up with for the last few months. It was supposed to help her memory recall, her therapist said, though he still didn't understand the fact that her memory issues weren't, normal ones. Sure she was traumatized, deeply, but he didn't understand when she tried to explain the first dozen times that it is impossible to remember somebody who doesn't exist anymore, no matter how hard she tried.

OCT 27th - 2053

“Daniel had another episode about him today, much to his credit though he handled it a lot better than the last few times. I couldn't quite figure out what set him off again, though I usually never can anymore. God knows what he's seen, I probably couldn't begin to understand it all even though I was there…”

Remember someone who…

She felt something in her brain zap again, her eyesight going blurry as she stared down at the page in front of her, her right hand twitching and dropping the ballpoint pen. She couldn't hear as it rolled on the white desk, nor could she hear as it hit the floor with a clink.

What was she writing about again? She blinked rapidly, urging her eyes to focus, knowing the signs of what was happening before it even fully started. She picked at the skin on the side of her thumb with her index finger, a habit she had been trying to break but just couldn't seem to in her worst moments. The pain grounded her a touch.

As she leaned in and zeroed in on the page, she reread her entry over and over. An episode, right, Daniel had a flashback. She could recall that just fine, as much as it hurt her to. She hated seeing him in pain, especially over this- What was this? What was it he had an episode over again? She reread again: “Him”. Who is him? She bit her lip hard, wringing it through her teeth methodically as she attempted every memory recall strategy she could remember at the moment. Everything her therapist taught her.

What were the facts of the situation? Daniel lost something, somebody, she knows that. She sees it every day. He misses them- Him- So much it hurts just to watch. He says his name a lot- Why could she never remember his name? Daniel says she knew him, knew him well, too. 

She sighed loudly in frustration, balling up her fists so tight her nails dug into her palms before she got an idea. She started flipping back through past entries, trying to see if she had left any clues for herself. Dates flew by her eyes, she could remember remembering, that's what was making her so angry. She knew it was in here, somewhere. Somewhere in her diary, somewhere in her mind, so why couldn't she just- 

“Fuck..!” She cussed as if forcing out a gust of air, her arm swiping the book off her desk to the ground. She had to relax, but it was on the tip of her tongue. His name, she just wanted his name. She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands grabbing at the hair that fell down by her temples and tugging just hard enough for her eye to start watering. 

Everytime she tried to think, she drew a blank. She could just barely see it- See him- But his face was just a smear, the details about his appearance fuzzy. Who even were they to her? Were they important? Were they friends? 

It was like a shadow lurked in her memory, an outline of a stranger at her side throughout the worst parts of her life, she could feel the ghost of a gaze, their gaze, his gaze? When they were beside Daniel, when she met him, when she… She trailed off, the train in her mind derailing as she remembered meeting Daniel. Was there actually anyone else there? Was it just the two of them? Had it always just been them?

Her eyes slowly opened, her vision fuzzy from how hard she had been squeezing her eyes shut. She let out a slow breath, one she didn't know she had been holding. 

Why was her heart racing again? She unclenched her fists, the hair that had been balled up came out in crinkled clumps, slightly damp from the sweat of her palms. She smoothed it out methodically, trying to think back to the last few minutes of her life. She had been writing a diary entry, yeah? That's what she told Daniel she had been doing. So then where was her…? Oh, huh. She glanced around, spotting the notebook open on the floor, spine upwards, the pages bending awkwardly. Shoot… She grabbed it, swiping up the abandoned pen in the process. She flipped through the pages, scanning for todays date to see if she had already written. Once her eyes landed on it, she skimmed the passage. 

“Daniel had another episode about [][][][][] today, much to his credit though he handled it a lot better than the last few times. I couldn't quite figure out what set him off again, though I usually never can anymore. God knows what he's seen, I probably couldn't begin to understand it all even though I was there…”

Huh, weird. 

She closed the notebook and stood up, shaking her head a little as if to physically clear the fog from her brain. She better go find Daniel to make sure he's still doing alright. The smudge on the page in her diary already leaving her mind as she left the room. She needs to stop getting so sidetracked, she thought with a huff and a small smile. She can't keep doing this to Daniel. 

[whump-card]

Forged Divinity Unnamed Sequel: Chapter 2

1446 words

CW: dead body, like a real nasty dead body, dissociation, memory loss, amnesia, anger issues, past TBI

Previous, Masterlist, Next

~~~

Enjolras decided, since Leannan was catatonic, that she need to investigate the body. Some sick, sorrowful part of her needed to know how Phineas had died, and Leannan wasn’t about to tell her. She took one last breath of fresh air before ducking back into the shack.

She avoided the body at first, opening a cabinet on the far wall. There were a couple small sacks of oats, but little else. She grabbed a handful out of one sack, letting it run through her fingers. It didn’t look contaminated, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t – Leannan’s Iowan immune system could handle a lot more than Phineas’ could have.

She cupped a hand under the tap of their water barrel, and dribbled some out into her palm. It looked clear. She couldn’t smell it, though, not with the overpowering stench of the corpse filling the room.

She tipped out the water and wiped her hand dry on her pant leg. Finally, reluctantly, she approached the corpse.

The bloat and maggots told her it had been around a week since Phineas had died. She couldn’t imagine what Leannan had gone through, how thoroughly he must have been in denial, to live next to a corpse that whole time.

She carefully pinched the blanket covering the majority of Phineas’ body and pulled it back. She immediately spotted what she was looking for.

Cloth bound their chest flat, as usual, but more strips were wrapped around their waist, strained dark with old, dried blood. Phineas had died of an injury – a slash or stab to the gut.

Enjolras threw the blanket beck over the body before she could digest any more details – the flies, the maggots, the no, don’t look – and covered Phineas’ mutilated face with it as well. Then she turned, and fled, stumbling out the door and gulping down fresh air, tears stinging her eyes.

If Leannan had been able to bandage up the injury while Phineas was still bleeding, still alive, that meant Phineas hadn’t died immediately. They had died slowly. The thought, the sight, the smell, it all made her nauseous.

Phineas was still a part of her, as horrible as they were. Rapist, arsonist, murderer, yes. Her little sibling? Also yes.

Her eyes settled on Leannan where he sat on the ground, and she quickly brushed away her tears. She couldn’t spare the time to mourn right now. She needed to get Leannan home, before anything else went wrong.

“Leannan?” She touched his shoulder. He was still… gone, his empty gaze resting on the ground. She scooped her hands under his arms and lifted him to his feet, then led him by the arm over to the pickup truck. This, finally, seemed to rouse him.

“Are we leaving?” he asked.

“Yes,” Enjolras said.

“Is Phineas coming with us?”

Enjolras’ heart sank. Something was really, really wrong with Leannan.

“Uh… Yeah. They’re riding in the back. Can you get in?” She opened the passenger door for him.

“Mhm.” He climbed into the cab, and Enjolras shut the door. Then she looked back at the shack.

A part of her wanted to do something – to bury Phineas, maybe. But the ground was dry and hard-packed, and full of rocks, and she didn’t have a shovel anyway. It didn’t feel right to just leave them there, to be scavenged by animals, but there was nothing she could do.

Then she remembered the gun.

She steeled herself, and went back into the shack and looked around. It wasn’t immediately visible, but there were only so many places it could hide. She found it soon enough, tucked behind the cabinet: the Barrett M95 sniper rifle. She slung it over her shoulder, not bothering to search for the ammo. She just wanted to have it, not to shoot it.

It was Mom’s. She couldn’t leave it there.

She stashed it in the bed of the pickup, and glanced back at the shack one last time.

She wished she could make it right. But things had gone wrong a long, long time ago.

~~~

Leannan slept as they drove, leaning his head against the window again. Enjolras couldn’t help but glance at him constantly, trying to take in every detail while still watching the road.

He still wore the clothes he had taken with him when he left Goat Island. They were weathered and dirty now, and too big on him. The scar on his left temple looked like a gnarled lightning strike or tree branch growing out of his hairline. The soles of his boots were peeling away from the uppers. He was tanned and freckled, and his hair was sun-bleached even paler than it had been when they first met. There was dirt under his fingernails, and crusted into the lines of his face.

They had been driving for about two hours when Leannan awake with a small yelp, and started looking around frantically.

“Hej, what…?” Enjolras started.

“Where’s Phineas?” Leannan demanded.

Enjolras couldn’t answer. She kept her eyes on the road, her jaw clenched.

“Where’s Phineas?!” shouted Leannan.

“They died, Leannan,” Enjolras said quietly.

“No! No, you left them behind! You left them behind on purpose!” Leannan was working himself up into a frenzy, “You promised! You promised they could come with us! You lied to me!”

“Phineas is dead.”

“Fuck you!” Leannan shrieked, with a level of vitriol Enjolras had never heard from him before, “Fuck you! I hate you!”

Without warning, Leannan grabbed the steering wheel and yanked it to the side. Enjolras slammed on the brakes to keep them from careening off the road. While she was occupied getting the car back under control, Leannan flung his door open and jumped out of the slow-moving vehicle.

“Leannan!” Enjolras shouted. She finally got the car to stop and threw it into park, then jumped out to follow him. He was running back down the road towards where they came.

“Leannan!” She caught up with him easily, between her taller height, better nutrition, and better shoes, and grabbed his arm. “Leannan, stop!”

He swung around and punched her in the face. It was a pretty weak punch, but it surprised her nonetheless.

“I hate you!” he screamed, twisting in her grip, “You always ruin everything!”

Those were Phineas’ words. Enjolras would recognize them anywhere. She pulled Leannan close and wrapped her arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides, his back to her chest.

“I’m sorry, Leannan, but I need to take you home!” she said through gritted teeth.

Leannan screamed wordlessly in return, struggling like a wild animal.

“Don’t you want to see Shannon again?” Enjolras coaxed.

“Not… without… Phineas!” Leannan insisted in between attempts to twist himself free. Enjolras held him tighter.

“Leannan,” she felt a lump rise in her throat, “Phineas is dead!”

Leannan paused his fighting, panting hard. Enjolras could feel his thin body swell and deflate in her arms with each breath, rife with panic and anger. She felt the anger fade.

“I didn’t mean to,” Leannan whimpered.

Enjolras carefully loosened her grip.

“Didn’t mean to what?” she asked softly, already anticipating the answer.

“I just get really angry, sometimes, now, and I don’t know why, and Phineas was being a real jerk, and I just wanted them to stop…” Leannan’s words dissolved into soft, hiccuping cries.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is!” Leannan wailed, “It’s always my fault!”

Enjolras released him fully, turning him around to face her.

“When did you start getting angry?” she asked.

“When I got hit… in the head,” Leannan gulped, his hand going to the scar on his temple, “Phineas says it made me stupid and weird.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“No,” Leannan shook his head miserably, “Phineas says it was an accident.”

Enjolras tallied up the symptoms. Memory loss. Mood swings. Disorientation. A bad enough head injury, combined with some psychological trauma, would certainly explain everything.

“Leannan, I promise it’s not your fault.”

Leannan frowned up at her.

“You also promised you’d take Phineas with us!”

Enjolras sighed.

“I would have, I really would, if Phineas had been alive. But they’re not, they’re dead, they couldn’t come with.”

Leannan’s red-rimmed eyes drifted to stare past her. For a moment Enjolras was afraid that had dissociated again at the mention of Phineas’ death, but then he spoke.

“What am I supposed to do now?” he whispered.

“Come home with me,” Enjolras offered, “We’ll take care of you.”

He slowly shifted forward and, to her surprise, leaned against her, resting his forehead against her shoulder.

“You’ll take care of me?” he murmured, muffled by her shirt.

“Yeah,” she patted his back, “We will.”

~~~

Previous, Masterlist, Next

Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @thecyrulik

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

Vent post

Content warning: memory loss (I guess)

(This is for context) So yall know how having trauma fucks with your head-- especially if it was during your childhood and for an extended time. Well I've got a lot of issues with remembering things.

As some of you know, I went to a Qbomb + TLT concert a little short of two weeks ago. I remember that I enjoyed myself but I can't recall any specifics.

I can't recall most of the music.

I can't recall what was said during the performances.

I can't remember watching either band perform.

I can barely even remember meeting Yoav and Sam.

It's like when someone tells you that this thing happened when you were little but you were so young you can't remember it yourself. Like, I know I was there- that I danced- screamed- and had a fun time... but it's vague at best.

My whole life has, admittedly, been this way and I usually just joke about it enough that it doesn't bother me.

But this was something I was so excited for and ready to do; only to have fuzzy bits and cookie cutter feelings to paste to it.

I don't smoke weed, drink, or do anything that would interfere with my memories. My medications have changed many times and it's never done anything to my memories. So why the fuck can't my mind just, yah know, work..?

It's has been just pissing me off... Like, I want to be able to recall fun things and fun times but it's really hard for me to. Course my stupid ass didn't take all but like 4 photos.

Getting alzhiemers or dementia are one of my biggest fears-- I just... it makes me so tired some times. Humor is pretty much my only cope when it comes to this so when I can't find myself in the mood to be funny about it then... Then I just get upset.

. . .

Also, don't take this as me fishing for sympathy. I just needed to vent and Instagram has too many people that would try to text me about it (old friends and classmates).

Oh and just to add on because I hate leaving on a bad note-- Pretty sure I majorly fucked up my left knee at the concert lmao. My knee drifts really bad so my left foot is like a penguins. So me a very fat man who doesn't get out much and was wearing boots that had cardboard in them to keep my feet in a comfortable spot* probably shouldn't have been jumping around like I was. My ass was moving pretty much through whole like 1 1/2 - 2 hours of music (save for the last 2 songs, I felt super light headed *hadn't eaten or drank in over 12 hours at that point lmfao*). Can't kneel on my left knee without wanting to keel over and it feels sore still lmfaooo

*they're like size 11 and I wear 9 1/2 because I have wide feet; the 11 boots are left over from a theatre proformance in high school. They're like really nice leather boots tho so I wanted to wear them.

Okay I think that's all I've got for now. As a small bonus I'll let yall know that I have several TLT things I need to post and have been working on (maybe even a Rust comic 🤔 who knows).

Hope you all are doing well and make sure to drink lots of water. Much love yall, sorry again for the random ass rant.

[sour-heart-treats]

[Almnesia Was His Name Pt. 4 - CW: Memory Loss - Previous, Next]

The hospital lights were a lot brighter than Almond wished for them to be. Sitting in the waiting room of the hospital Latte had booked him for had the detective more than a bit fidgety. It reminded him too much of the times he was stuck inside waiting for a moment to escape and grab a smoke. Though rather than wanting to escape for a cigarette, he was more worried about his work and the discovery that there could be something wrong with him. His unfocused gaze stared so deep into the floor that he may as well be digging it out, he would only be interrupted from his anxieties by the shifting of his overcoat. Perking up and rubbing at his eyes to get a clearer vision, he'd look to his side and find Walnut trying to slink underneath his coat. "It's cold..." She'd complain lightly, the fact that there were metal arms on the chairs between them making this whole crawling situation more awkward for the both of them.

The older detective looked away for a moment, unsure of what entirely to do. He didn't even realize it was that cold until it was mentioned. Right... what would be the 'mom' thing to do in this situation? "Uh." Alm buffered a response, then decided perhaps it would be better to just give up his coat. It's not like he was wearing it properly anyway, even if the cold got to his body before it got to his brain. "Here, kid. You can have it until you get too warm, okay?" There was a happy little 'yay!' from the kid as she practically snatched the overcoat from Almond's shoulders and put it on herself with practiced ease. Ha. She looked cute wearing something way too big for her.

"Mothers always know best, huh?" The second voice nearly startled Almond out of his chair. Whipping around, he'd practically forgotten that Latte was here. Right... Walnut needed someone to watch over her while he was getting checked on. Whatever that entailed... he wasn't exactly looking forward to it. "Right, yea, Mother knows best," the investigator would echo half-heartedly, hoping that his heart that tried beating out of his chest would calm before he was called back. Right. Since he was here, he may as well pry some information out of his colleague. "So... how are they gonna go about this whole thing? Scan my brain with magic or something?" The medical magical field may be well-researched and strongly supported, but as someone who's run across so many uses of magic malpractice...

"Oh, no, not at all! This place actually uses a lot of alternative methods to magic instead! I know how you are when it comes to medmagic." He doesn't recall ever expressing distaste for it, but perhaps that's just his demeanor giving it away. "There's this one doctor that I've heard hasn't failed a patient yet! I'm surprised I was able to schedule something so soon... and something that matched your schedule, too!" "Sure, 'matched'... If my communicator goes off, then I will have to dart out of here. You know that, right?" "Well, at least you won't be leaving Walnut all alone again!" Almond does not want to acknowledge the multiple times he has forgotten Walnut at the local park or school from having to commit to his duties at his second job. If he has to pretend to be some child's mom, can't he at least pretend to be a good mom? Though... he does feel horrible about it, as much as he wants to push that into the back of his mind and forget about it. It's not as if he could remember the kid's name for more than ten minutes at a time.

"Almond Cookie. Almond, the doctor is ready to see you." Oh. It's time. The detective would take a deep breath and push himself up from his chair, feeling a lingering chill on his hands from the metal bars of the chair's arms as he'd take a few steps then pause. Alm glanced behind him, making sure the two were following before following whatever nurse was going to give him a briefing and whatever else. Height and weight gauging, going over the medical history he had- noting that he didn't have any form of memory issues beforehand. Whilst that was being mentioned, Almond side-eyed Walnut, wondering if she should really be hearing this part. She didn't seem to mind, though, clinging to Latte's side and just enjoying the coat that was far beyond her proper size. It made him... smile. Wally wasn't something he'd expect to care for much, but in fleeting moments like these, he'd find that there was something in his mind that liked it far more than just anyone else's child grinning from ear to ear.

Most general go-overs were a blur. They were nothing important and were promptly treated as such by the detective's mind. It wasn't until his mind was prompted back to focus by a slab of red coming into his vision. Oh... the doctor. Blinking back to take in his surroundings properly, he was sat on the cushioned bed-turned-chair of an examination room. To his side, seats filled by the two ladies that'd come with him. Latte seemed to be staring at him worriedly while holding the kiddo's hand. The little one on the other hand seemed to be curious about her surroundings and staring at the doctor who greeted them all warmly. "Good afternoon! I'm Dr. Cassonade... I heard that you all are here with some concerns about memory issues?" Latte would nod, turning her attention to the medical professional. Red suit, dark brown hair with orange-ish speckles of brown sugar darted through it, dark green tie, and glasses reminiscent of a certain lawyer... This was the one she'd heard about, certainly. "Yes! Yes, I'm certain you've heard about the oddities... We were wondering if you could see if something had gone on to cause this."

The doctor would nod, looking between the two in the chairs before raising their gaze to Almond, who stared back incredulously. "You must be Almond, I assume? It is very nice to meet you!" Such warmth would only be met with a gruff 'mhm'. Cassonade stood awkwardly still at the unfriendly response, though continued to smile and acted as if the moment hadn't happened. He'd head to the other side of the small room the four were all in, poking at some monitor with information that Almond couldn't see from where he sat. Probably a whole bunch of medical mumbo-jumbo he couldn't begin to understand. "Right," Casso would begin, "when it comes to things like this... I would first like to do some prerequisite testing. See what you do and don't remember- along with some general mental faculty tests! Now, most of it was done when you completed the check-in form-" he doesn't remember filling one of those out, but he does remember holding a pen recently for some reason, "-I still have other things I wish to check... Like response time and personal memory!"

The doc would lean out from behind their monitor and look at non-patients with a certain softness that Almond almost read as some form of empathy. "So, for that, I'll need to be alone with Almond here, if that's okay? You can stand outside, I just need the room for us." "Oh, sure!" Latte chirped, gracefully standing up and adjusting her hat with her still available hand. "Come on, sweetie. Mom's going to have the doctor make sure he's all healthy and happy, okay?" "Okay!" The mentioned 'sweetie' would follow behind Latte, though would keep the heavy door open for just a moment as she stared down the medic with something akin to scorn. Though she looked more like an angry puppy than anything else. "You better make mommy feel better!!" There was a laugh from Casso as they gave her a pat on the helmet that Almond found nearly gave him a knee-jerk reaction of a growl. Why would he...? He doesn't know this kid.

Once the door was closed, Dr. Cassonade would take a deep breath and keep that damned smile on their face. They adjusted their glasses, then reached into a drawer underneath the screen that they were using earlier to pull out a whiteboard, marker, and sterile cleaning rag. "What is this, elementary school?" Almond would state with underlying scorn. How is this supposed to show that he has memory issues? "I know, I know... It may seem childish, but I promise it will help! Unless you'd... like to just tell me your answers verbally." "Yes. Yes, I would." "A-ah, alright then!" And thusly, the objects would be put away in favor of some flash cards. Two packs, one with shapes, colors, numbers... and one with people- with the second one looking handmade. Equally as degrading to see. He's not five! He's-... how old was he again? Ugh, that didn't matter! "Now, I'm going to show you some simple images, and I want you to identify them, okay? If you don't recognize one, just tell me and I'll tell you what it is and skip to the next one. Does that sound alright to you?" Almond rubbed at his face, reluctant but nodding all the same. "Sure, sure. Let's just get this over with."

Answering the cards was a breeze, truly. These were things anybody knew. Animals, shapes, colors, and numbers, all things someone would learn in early years of school. It was almost patronizing how delighted the doctor was to see him succeed at something so simple. Every time they'd write something down, he couldn't help but glower at the medic. This almost felt like being at a pediatric's office rather than being at an actual hospital. "Alright, I'm happy to say that things are going relatively swimmingly right now, but... this may be a lot harder for you." That second set of flashcards seemed to tease him the way it glinted under the room's lights, which were still too bright for him to enjoy. Perhaps he's been taking too many late-night calls and the brightness was becoming adverse for him. The doctor took off the rubber band that held the cards together, picking out the first of what was arguably a very thin deck. "These are people that I've heard you've been close to. Family, friends, coworkers... All of those. Don't feel bad if you don't remember all of them! Heck, even I forget some of the names of the ones I've worked with for months..." The doctor gave a light laugh, then turned over the first card for Almond to look at.

Some dark-eyed person with brown and white hair, looking sleep-deprived in his black and purple garments. Silence fell through the room, a bead of sweat forming on the investigator's forehead from the lack of recognition. "I... don't know." He'd admit in a low voice, trying to hide whatever shame was bubbling in his chest. "That's Cappuccino," the doctor would answer for him, "he's a friend of yours. He's a very famous prosecutor! From what I've heard, you two share case information all the time..." Odd. He should know this person. Hell, he saw those texts a while back with that name! Ugh, at least some of the dots connected. "Next card?" Casso would ask, earning a hesitant nod.

A person with slitted eyes, wearing a cloak with an oversized collar. With glasses like that, some suit that seemed to double as a lab coat... It took a bit too long, but Almond knew this one. "That's... Espresso, isn't it? One of the Parfaedia teachers?" A coworker, albeit one he didn't speak to much. Didn't he work on coffee magic or something with Latte? "Good! Next one!" "Eclair." "Yes! The museum curator. You looked into multiple cases of thieves trying to get into his museum every now and then... And who is this?" "Ruh... Phan..." Almond had to parse through his thoughts for a moment, but gave a proper answer to the expectant doc whose smile looked a little less infantilizing. "Phantom Bleu." "Yes, famous phantom thief! Who wouldn't know them?" Hypothetical question, of course. Especially since the detective barely held any memory of who that was outside of some newspaper bits that he'd read over the past few days... with the exact details missing from his thoughts. "And this one?" "Oh, Latte." "Nice, yes! She came in with you, just like..." Though there was a given hint, the image before him gave a blank. He'd just seen her. He'd given her something to stay warm- though Almond had to reach back to realize that his overcoat wasn't there to remember what he'd given-...

There was a sudden migraine in his head as something tried to claw its way out of his mind. Almond raised a hand to his head, to which the doctor looked at him worriedly. "No need to stress! You know her, certainly..." That didn't make things better. Squeezing a portion of his hair to try and lessen the pain, he'd try to pry out an answer. The little girl with the sweetest smile and ponytail that looked just like her name... what was... who was she again? What was her name? "I..." He didn't know. He didn't know the little one with the helmet and little detective garb, who felt so important in his heart but was lost in his mind. Stress-induced sweat dripped down the side of the commissioner's face before the card was inevitably given a name. "Walnut... you know her." He should. He should, and yet... "I don't... I don't know her." Why did his face feel red? Why did his head hurt so much? Where did this sudden spike of stress come from?

The doctor would write a quick note with his one open hand and approach Almond with haste at the sight of the other's mental starting to deteriorate with the onset of panic. "Ah, it's okay! You are okay, I promise-... Simply because you may not remember your daughter right now doesn't mean-" "How could I not remember my own daughter?! How is that in any way okay?!" The detective's raised voice would cause the doctor to flinch, a few specks of brown sugar falling from their hair before they composed themself and took the patient's hand. Not the best course of action, especially if the patient was adverse to touch- he was- but... "Deep breaths. Your mind may just be a little scrambled right now. We still need to run a few more so we can determine what's wrong with you...! If there is anything-" "Do you hear yourself?! Of course there is! How could I-" Almond paused, breath stifling to the point where Cassonade had gotten worried that his heart stopped. But no... Something had brought a sudden soothing sensation across him. Or- at least- it left him numb. The detective blinked and looked down at the card that was in the medic's hand, seemingly mildly confused. "...and who is that supposed to be?"

-

"Wally, sweetheart... you shouldn't be peeking in on your mother..." Latte would give a very light scold, looking up from her phone to see Walnut's back with her body pressed against the door. Her helmet was set on the ground so that she could more firmly press against the hardwood and determine what was being said. And though Latte wouldn't get a response at first, the moment she gave Walnut a light touch, the child would rip away from her. Swinging around to face Latte, Walnut would look at the teacher with tears in her eyes. "He... he forgot about me..." She'd whimper, one hand gripping the coat that was practically half on the floor from her lack of height. "Huh? Sweetie, no, he'd never-..."

"He doesn't remember me!! He- he knows you, but not me!" A sob tore itself from Walnut's throat as Latte would kneel to her height. Her hand would hover over the child's shoulder. "I bet mom doesn't even love me anymore!! How- how could he-?!" Latte's heart hurt. How does she even begin to explain the situation at hand? "Mommy still loves you sweetie, it's just that he's... his brain is being a little weird right now." "IT'S BEING MEAN!! HE'S BEING MEAN!!" Walnut whipped off the overcoat, pausing for a moment with the cloth balled up in her hands while her breathing stuttered from the emotional agony that coursed through her. Though it wasn't processing entirely, she knew that she was hurting. Her mother forgot her. Everything they did together- it meant Nothing to him!! With a screeching yell, Walnut would throw the overcoat she'd been wearing at Latte and run off. And though the teacher tried reaching for Walnut, being pelted in the face with the elder's jacket made her unable to see well enough- or at all, for that matter- to catch her. By the time the coat had been pulled off, dragging her hat off with it, Walnut was already turning the corner of the hospital hallway.

"...oh dear." Latte stood herself up, brushing herself off and picking up Almond's jacket to hold as she gave chase. "This is- This is going to be a long car ride home...!"

[muchmossymess]

My dealer: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called "Everything At The End of Time" 😳 you'll be zonked out of your gourd💯

Me: yeah whatever. I don't feel shit

5 minutes later: dude I swear I just saw my memories deteriorating in front of me

My buddy the caretaker, pacing: stage 4 temporary bliss state is lying to us

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I’ve mentioned before that I hc that killer eventually lost track of time a very long time ago in his timeline—days, hours, months, years, centuries—and eventually had to just track everything in the amount of resets.

and its due to this that a few things happen. 1. he’s not really sure how old he would be now, 2. its another reason he isn’t sure what is and isn’t real anymore. things were reset and no one seems to remember but him. chara says it never happened. 3. he does not remember his life narrative is chronological order, half of it feels like dreams hes misremembering as real. a lot of it is forgotten. theres no real evidence to prove it happened.

your hand is right there, safe and sound and attached. Killer supposes he has a lot of weird dreams about being dismembered.

other than resets theres also a chance that he only knows when it was supposed to be his birthday, and chara’s birthday. his birthday could also double as sorta anniversary to celebrate his and chara’s partnership, maybe even a celebration about the death of sans. what exactly celebrating actually means to them is up to interpretation.

if he was actually given an exact date, or if it was actually that date or chara just chose random days to celebrate, killer doesn’t know. if wikipedias exist out in the multiverse maybe thats how he knows the exact date.

Now the real question is if he celebrates his “birthday” “creation day” or not.