#memory loss story

[tamsinswriting]

WIP Wednesday

@eriquin sent me lovely ask for my original Memory Loss story and I'm happy to share my snippet with you!

"Zarek frowned at the consol in front of him. He’d opened up a blank page and decided that the best course of action to help the units plan for their next simulation exercise was to guess at the type of simulations that the Doctor could require the units to perform and pan an appropriate course of action for each. But, the strange thing was, as soon as he contemplated a scenario, plans would spring into his mind, fully formed. As though they had been lurking in the corners of his mind, waiting for him to invite them forward. And, more than that, each plan had multiple variations that could be implemented if a single variable was changed.

There was something bothering him about these plans. They didn’t feel like vacuous ideas . . . they felt . . . they felt like memories."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Good morning, Sleepyhead.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[jesncin]

"Birthdays" a fancomic about grief and loneliness. A reimagining of John's relationship with Golden Boy.

Happy birthdays, Constantine 🧁

[scipunk]

Battle Angel Alita (1993)

[coquelicoq]

it's about...longevity? stability? it's about natsume believing he'll be somewhere long enough to plant flowers and see them bloom. it's about him taking touko seriously when she asks him to tell her what flowers he wants to plant. it's about making something with his own hands, building a future with the fujiwaras. it's about him repairing a rundown home for someone else, restoring it because it's beloved to them, because it's the home of someone they love. it's about him seeing touko's joy and thinking about the youkai saying we'd like to look upon her happy face forever. it's about the box garden making him think of the fujiwaras' garden and his parents' garden, about the flowers being both the memory of flowers that bloomed there before, and the flowers that he and the youkai planted earlier that day. it's about him waking up in both worlds with sensei. it's about touko finding the petal in his hair. it's about him feeling how he falls short and the youkai saying, but you have such gentle hands...

[whumpsoda]

WSFSP - M is for Memory

A third piece for this month’s event Alphabet of Whump by @alphabetofwhump! I really really like this one >:3

Masterlist

cw: memory loss/amnesia, nudity mention (non sexual), pet whumpee, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, Institutionalized slavery, conditioned whumpee, past abuse, recovering whumpee

——————

Mutt whined, a croaking sound that churned in his gut. The rain was only getting harder, faster, stinging against the wood and seeping in through the cracks, icy droplets plopping across his reddened skin.

Every inch of him was cold to the touch, with not a single luxury of clothing to provide even the smallest of warmth. The grass below him was pooling with mud, sticky and tainting him as he was balled up in a cage much too tight.

He couldn’t remember exactly what he did to deserve it - the cold and the fear was getting to his head and jumbling his brain all up - but no matter how freezing he was, Mutt was still sure he did indeed deserve it. Even if his leg were not chained and bolted to the wood, he would not have made the attempt to escape his punishment.

Stupid mutts who can’t seem to follow simple directions get the dog house. I thought you would’ve learned that by now, but it seems you’re just too dumb.

Say it, Mutt. Say it until you’ve gotten it permanently burned into your thick skull.

“S- st- stupid…,” his teeth chattered faster than his mouth could handle, tripping around his words and turning them to mush, “m- mutts get- t- t the dog houssse.” The last bit was left slurred and slushy, melting around his tongue. “Stuu- pid-,”

Interrupted by a crashing scream of the sky a wail of his own spilled out, aching in his chill throat. His knees dipped further into his chest, spine tapping the ceiling of his enclosure. It seemed even the outside was eager to discipline him.

Another flash of lightning, cracking close. Fat globs of tears mixed in with the rain, drooling down his cheeks.

Waking up, everything was a blur of darkness. Something flashed, just a swift flicker of light, as his eyesight worked desperately to adjust. Heavy breathing in his ears was found to be coming from his own lungs, quick with disorientation and panic.

It all died down to near silence once the still, blue room settled into sight, save for the creak of the walls and the continuous tapping on the roof. The dresser, the closet, the window, the bunk bed, his stuffed animal, all of it was there. So was Wesley, the only indication of his presence above him being the smallest shift in his sleeping position.

Even through his drowsy haze, the mere fact that Wesley was still nicely sound asleep allowed an easiness to wash through him.

Whatever woke Mutt, - that wasn’t right, but stupid mutts get the dog house - a booming roar rolling over clouds and through the sky, was loud and reverberating in his ears. The noise was terrifyingly familiar, and as soon as he caught a glimpse of the rain soaked window, he was sure what it was.

Making his way down the green soaked hallway, through the darkness he stumbled over his own feet and the blanket draped around his shoulders. Mutt hissed a whimper, curling in on himself as the thunder sounded once more, a chill shaking up his spine.

Stopping, holding himself steady with the wall, he wound his eyelids tight, as if that would block out the bitter noise.

Stupid mutts get the dog house.

Still too tired to clearly think, he didn’t know exactly why he left the room, where exactly he was going, until he got there. Their door was shut, the silence of slumber loud and clear, but he turned the nob anyway.

“Uh. I-,” he blanked, licking his cool lips. He stood at the foot if their bed, a surge of a dizzy daze tugging at the back of his brain. What was he doing? “I’m sorry.”

Oscar groaned at that, weak with confusion as he flipped over in his spot, struggling to locate his glasses on the dresser beside him.

Edith shuffled around in the bed, tied around in blankets, squinting through a wave of drowning drowsiness and an unlit room. “Who…? Graham, dear?” She mumbled, cocking her head.

Yes. That was his name now. Graham. “Y- yeah, yeah.” Giving the slightest of a nod, he directed his gaze to the floor.

“Who’s it…?” Oscar mumbled, face stuffed into the side of his pillow.

Too focused on Graham to answer her husband, Edith propped up her pillow and slumped back against it. “Did… did the rain wake you up?”

“Um, mhm, yes. Edith.” The name came out awkward and unfamiliar. He hoped she wouldn’t notice and get upset with him more than he guessed she already was - he’d clearly been struggling as of late not to call her by any sort title.

She motioned for him, waving him forward as she pulled the covers up to her lap. “You can come over here, sit on the bed if you like.”

Graham took a few slinking steps, shoulders hunched. Furniture was still… new. Uncomfortable. Wrong. Clenching his fist over his blanket, he sipped in a breath before neatly falling to his knees. She looked a bit dissatisfied with that, but didn’t say anything.

“Graham…? What’re you doing here?” Oscar said, finally sitting up beside his wife as he adjusted his glasses over his nose.

“The storm woke him.” Edith whispered, trailing her hand down his arm. Graham couldn’t help but let a little spike of jealousy grip him at that. “I take it you aren’t very fond of storms, are you?”

Timidly, he shook his head.

She smiled, a source of calm and peace that caved over the ache in his chest as her eyes glittered in the sliver of light from the doorway. He was inexplicably fond of her smile, but at the same time it knotted this little throb in his head. “Well, that’s just fine. If you’d feel more comfortable you can sit in here for a while, or I can bring in your mattress so you can sleep on the floor.”

It’s alright bud, you can snuggle up with me and momma. We’ll keep you safe and sound.

The pain got worse then, the little glitter in her eye was someone else’s, which of course didn’t really make any sense at all and he let his expression twist.

“Whatever you need, kid.”

Anything for you, sweetheart.

“I- just…,” Graham blinked, once, twice, head only deepening in heaviness with each. The shapes around him were fuzzing, contorting with white and he couldn’t tell why, he only knew it wasn’t supposed to do that and something was wrong-

“Woah there-!” She reached down as he smacked himself upside the head, and he jerked back from her. “Please- please don’t do that.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry-,” choking on his words and the lump winding over them, he did his best - which never did seem to be enough - to stifle a sour sob. His ears were filling with stuffed cotton, a little ringing rising from the depths. He said something next that he wouldn’t remember after, too overcome by the blinding of white. “I’m so sorry, mommy.”

“Oh, honey.” She cooed, holding her arms out for him to collapse into. He didn’t have the mind to think about what he was doing, how terribly out of place he was, and in the moment could only focus on Edith’s radiating warmth.

“Hey, there,” The couple guided him between them in the bed, Oscar pressing a hand to his back as he sniffled and cried. “Let it all out.”

Graham didn’t really understand why he was crying, what - or who - he was crying for, but the strain in his belly, the tremble of his hands, and the tense in his chest surely did.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” She said, reassuring him, but at the same time he was so sure of the opposite.

Soon enough Edith was wiping his tears away with a soft tissue plush between her fingers, and Oscar was allowing him to rest his pounding head atop his shoulder. Slumber clawed at him and his fluttering, reddened eyes, but some part of him refused to drift off just yet, to relish in the heat of the moment.

“Doing better now?” Oscar rubbed circles into his shoulder blade, a motion that he couldn’t pry his focus from.

“Yes’r…” he mumbled, soft and faint, twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

Everything he touched had been poisoned by his dirtiness. Yet, they still touched him, allowing him to sit between them two - on their bed even - tucking their blankets up and over his tummy.

Warm. It was so warm. Not only physically, but emotionally.

The following strike of rolling thunder to come wasn’t welcomed, but no longer was he cold and alone when it happened.

——————

Masterlist

Taglist - @softvampirewhump @ivymyers @taterswhump @octopus-reactivated @tippytappytyping

@distracted-obsessions @starfields08000 @bitchaknso @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @scoundrelwithboba

@whumped-by-glitter @whumpering-heights @arlin-always-writing @bilightningwhumper @sharkyydoesnothing

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[ghost-proofbaby]

“I’m out of wine and flowers, so I hope an introduction will suffice,” his blood-red eyes meet hers, and something in her gut twists. As if she already knows. As if she’s just realized that she’s missed the obvious. “My name is Astarion. I was in Balder’s Gate when-” Astarion. Save Astarion. Astarion.  All the breath leaves her lungs as she interrupts, “You’re Astarion?”

summary: how far would you go to save the one you love? what about a stranger?

pairings: astarion ancunin x sorcerer!oc (aruna)

warnings: canon angst, canon trauma, canon violence, memory loss, sort of enemies to lovers?, sort of soulmates au?, overuse of pet names, eventual smut. 18+

cross-posted on ao3

spotify playlist

P R O L O G U E

S T R A N G E R S

C H A R C O A L A N D D A G G E R S

W I L D M A G I C

S H A R P A X E , S H A R P E R H A N D S

H E R S H A D O W

T H E K I N D E S T F O O L

I N T O T H E C H A S M

F A I L E D C O N N E C T I O N S

F R I E N D L Y E N C O U N T E R S

C I N N A M O N G I R L

A D V O C A T U S D I A B O L I

S O L D I E R D O W N

S T A Y W I T H M E

[asoftepiloguemylove]

Could you do one of suffering from an "almost something" relationship.

If thats too difficult, something about heartbreak it's okay ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹🥺

Helga Floros things i want to ask you. / Audrey Niffenegger The Time Traveler's Wife / unknown / @hamletmaschine unaligned (2016) / Natasha Trethewey Memorial Drive / Jan Heller Levi Writing for This Story to End Before I Begin Another

[kawareo]

Purely self indulgent but I think Astarion would be uncomfortable with Strike's body after the tadpoling. The guy is so horribly scarred, has bad muscle atrophy, and before the lobotomy, Astarion knew him only as an untouchable halfgod - must be difficult to see the evidence of his failures littered all over his ruined body.

They'd still have sex because manipulation and desperation between two people who never knew anything else leads to it, but I really like the thought that Astarion attempts to make it ~spontaneous and passionate~ as an excuse for Strike to keep his clothes mostly on and Ass can pretend that he didn't have to face his own mortality because the strongest person he thought he knew has so obviously been defeated.

Because i can see every other companion reacting in a neutral (Halsin, Wyll) or even positive (Lae'zel, Shart) way to the terrible state hes in, or at worst with concern (especially Karlach, sometimes Gale and Wyll), at least once he proves himself as a warrior even with his physhical limitations (sorcerer!), but Astarion just... I dunno. He is vain himself, and judgy, but I think he'd use those reasons to cover up how uneasy he feels with the great Bhaalspawn being so physhically ruined.

[yaoiconnoisseur]

I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his.

[vaguely-concerned]

I don't know what I love more, the fact that as rook you can make a statement in NO uncertain terms that you are NOT responsible one way or the other for the theological implications of the shit you're discovering in the 'regrets of the dread wolf' memories. not my jurisdiction. quite simply none of my business. not my chantry circus not my chantry monkeys. irrelevant to the matter at hand here we'll kill that god if we get to him he can get in line. or if the best thing about it is seeing the lone little 'lucanis approves' that pops up right after choosing it. corvid with a knife about to commit deicide keeping it real and sensibly, pragmatically, wilfully agnostic with me here in this magical lighthouse today

[write-it-motherfuckers]

Person A: "Do I know you?"

Person B: "If you do, then at least that will make one of us."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Alas, this beautiful dream could not last.

[violetaeons]

If/when Celeborn and Galadriel reunite next season, I hope it'll be at the end of the season.

I hope Celeborn is introduced at the start - but in a separate plot so we can get to know him as an individual. The "male wife"/trophy husband "I love my wife" memes are funny but in all seriousness, I'd really like them to make him interesting.

I've never been drawn to Celeborn in the series but they have a chance to flesh him out on screen in their vision of the story and that's interesting.

And in the meantime, I hope Galadriel has a separate plotline where she still believes him dead.

I'd like to see how/if they'll depict Galadriel's mirror. Or, how the crown's injury might affect her. Or any other direction that involves her working through internal stuff like her relationship with power. And once their respective plotlines have ended, Celeborn finds her/comes home.

(I'm assuming he'll be the one to find her and show up, as she's convinced he's dead. And that is kinda reminiscent of stories from WW1 where soldiers who were reported dead turned up years later.)

I think it would serve them well to develop as characters separately first, albeit for different reasons. And since they have many characters with storylines to cover, it seems it would fit best at the end of the season. And would give more emotional payoff with a whole season's buildup where we've gotten to know Celeborn as well.

[kafus]

and this dialogue specifically is why the original sun and moon have the best story of any pokemon game

[whumpsoda]

We Search For Stolen Personhood

-Pet whump, Box boy universe/BBU adjacent, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization, past abuse, trauma, recovery, memory loss/amnesia, brainwashing, conditioning

——————

Pre-WRU:

369719 and 836520 in Training:

Intake Paperwork: Graham (836520)

Intake Paperwork: Wesley (369719)

Lucky

Prince and Mutt With Atticus Gordon:

Perfect

No Smiles 

Lick it Clean

Daybreak

Lick It Up

Stranger

Say It

At The Safe House:

You’re Scared

Blue Walls

Bad morning

A Hard Day 

Early Birds 

Medicine for Mutt

First Baths

Apology

Favorite Rescue 

Wesley

Graham

Chaos

Home

Thunderstorm and memories 

“That’s all I am” 

More From Others at the Safe House:

Florence-

Downfall

Wiped

‘065 After the Drip

Josephine-

Cake

Otis-

Agnes-

Call for Help

——————