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wrathfulrook · 10 months

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TGA

Deputy Patience Ekner x John Seed

Summary: Junior Deputy Patience Ekner falls into ice cold water and develops temporary amnesia. She knows that she knows the man who pulled her from the frigid current, but she can't quite place him.

Word Count: ~1k

A/N: This actually happened to me about 6 years ago at the Tamolitch Blue Pool the one and only time I went cliff jumping. (Don't go cliff jumping at the Tamolitch Blue Pool.) A bunch of the lines in this fic are ones that I said/repeated during my Transient Global Amnesia (TGA) episode. I reccomend looking up TGA. It’s really bizarre and interesting.

Read it on ao3.

Patience looked up from the campfire that was warming her wet, chilled form and suddenly realized she didn’t know where she was. Or why she had been in that river in the first place.

She looked around rapidly until she noticed John, startled to find him sitting beside her.

And Patience realized she had no idea how she knew John.

As they stared blankly at each other, and his brow began to furrow, she realized she had to speak.

“Okay, so, I don’t want to freak you out, but I don’t know anything.”

John didn’t appear any less confused. “What does that mean?” he eventually asked.

“Like, I know I’m not home. I’m out west in a different state. But I don’t know which one. And I moved here for a new job. But, I can’t remember what it is.”

Ignoring his bewildered stare, she plowed on.

“And I know I know you, but I don’t know how. And I know you’re John. And I know I know your last name, but I can’t remember it.”

Finally, John spoke. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

She knew she had been in the river, that it was cold. Frigid. So cold that she was gasping for air as she fought her way to shore. Her lungs just weren’t expanding, and she couldn’t get enough air. She put all her focus into getting to the shore. Her gasps were resounding in her ears, the loudest sound she’d ever heard.

And then, John was there, wading into the icy water, pulling her to shore. And then she was sitting on a log, wet and dripping, staring into a crackling fire.

In lieu of an answer, she asked another question. “Why was I in that river?”

He gaped at her. “You fell. You were rappelling down the side of the bluff and you fell in.”

“Oh.” She didn’t remember that at all.

“And you’re a deputy.”

Patience gave him a puzzled look.

“Your job,” he clarified. “You’re a junior deputy with the Hope County Sheriff’s Department.”

“Oh.”

“That’s in Montana.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“Why was I in that river?” she asked John.

He didn’t even look at her. Just continued to stare into the fire and spoke flatly. “I’ll answer your questions later, Patience. Be quiet for right now.”

So she stared into the fire and let time pass. But she was scared and confused. She didn’t know where she was, why she was there, what had compelled her to enter the freezing water, or how she knew the man seated beside her.

Eventually she whispered, “John?”

John let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes?”

She slid slightly closer to the man, laying her head on his shoulder, her cool, damp hair plastering to her face. He stiffened in surprise but then relaxed, tentatively reaching an arm around her in return.

“Will you answer my questions now? I’m kind of freaking out.”

He remained silent.

“I know I’m from Wisconsin, but I’m in a different state. Out west. But I don’t know where.”

“You’ve asked me that before,” he said calmly into her hair where she sat curled into him.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re a junior deputy for the Hope County, Montana Sheriff’s Department. My last name is Seed. You fell into the river while rappelling down from the top of a bluff and were having trouble getting to the shore. I pulled you out. You’ve been having some sort of amnesia, asking the same questions over and over. This is new, though.”

“What is?”

“Remembering I promised to answer you later. Usually I just tell you I’ll answer you later and to be quiet. You shut up for a bit before starting over again.” She could hear a small smile in his voice.

“Usually?” she asked. “How long have I been out of the water?”

He gently shrugged, slight jostling her as he did so. “About an hour and a half, an hour forty-five.”

That surprised her. It felt like minutes. That must have been obnoxious.

“Thank you for being so patient with me.”

He tightened his arm around her. “You were scared, Patience. I’m not a terrible guy.”

After a beat, she told him, “I think I’m feeling mostly normal now.”

“You’re not,” he said with a laugh. “You’ve said that about a dozen times now.”

“Really?” She really had thought she was back to normal. “How long have I been out of the water, now?

“A couple hours. Yes, really,” he said before she could ask it herself. Which she was about to.

“Why are we still out here then?”

“It’s night,” he said simply. “We’re waiting until sunup.”

That seemed like a lie. “Why? Couldn’t your men just drive out here and take us back to your bunker? I’m apparently in no state to stop you.”

From where she was curled into his side, she saw his blue eyes dart down to meet her gaze, a small, bemused smile tugging at the corner of his beard. “So, you remember me now, do you?”

She shrugged slightly, but didn’t pull away. “I technically always remembered you. I just forgot about the cult.”

“It’s not a cult,” he corrected her, but there was no heat behind it.

“So? Why didn’t you take me back to your bunker?”

“Because you need to be brought into the flock. You need to accept the Father into your heart. And that might be easier to do if you know we’re not terrible people, that we only want to help you.”

“I’m not going to go back with you willingly, John.” She sat upright, pulling herself off of him.

He kept eye contact, still smiling at her. “Not now, no. But when you feel your sin eating away at you, when you next need help, you’ll remember what I did here for you tonight. And you’ll know where to find me. You’ll say yes.

“And when you seek me out of your own volition, just to ask for my absolution, just to tell me that one little word, it’ll be all the sweeter.”

#my stuff #john seed x deputy #john seed #oc: patience ekner #john seed fic #fc5 #fc5 fic #far cry 5 #far cry 5 fic #high tag #transient global amnesia

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nevadancitizen · 1 month

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-> HURTING, LONGING, LOVING – DANCING TO DISCO MUSIC

synopsis: you wake up and have no memory of simon. you can only hope to find him among your fractured memories and the scattered lights of a disco ball.

word count: 2.3k

characters: simon "ghost" riley, amnesiac! gn! reader

trigger warnings: transient global (aka temporary) amnesia, mentions of canon-typical violence/interrogation

notes: heavily inspired by disco elysium and part one of @roosterr 's amnesia series. go give it a read if you haven't already (＊๑˘◡˘)

Nothing surrounds you. Only warm, primordial blackness – the pond you learn about in Biology 101, the one where everything and everyone comes from. You don’t know this, of course, because you’re curled up in it, your mind fermenting in it. You’re no larger than a grain of yeast. You don’t have to do anything anymore. Ever. Never, ever.

But you’re growing. Gram upon gram of yeast, slowly morphing into meat. Muscles and bones and organs and a beating pig heart, decaying as soon as they grow. Soon you’ll need to do things. There’s a faint tickle of an idea. Soldiers. Battlefields. IEDs and tanks. You don’t know what to do with this information.

Somewhere within the idea – a sensation! Pain. Arcing, shooting pain, lightning through every new nerve in your new body. The limbed and headed machine of pain and barely-dignified suffering is firing up again. It wants to walk the streets of Manchester. Hurting. Longing. Loving. Dancing to disco music.

It wants someone. You want someone. A blurred-out face, someone you’re kneeling at the feet at. A ghost of a man. So lost he doesn’t even know what his face looks like.

“I swore I wouldn’t let you go,” your barely-formed mouth mumbles. Your teeth are hot, melted-together plastic and your tongue is jet-fuel-fired rebar.

Look up. No. You were just talking to yourself. That’s all you ever do. Even in this primordial pool. And the act is wearing thin, the spots of the disco ball fade around you…

The warm blackness is instantly replaced with a cold, artificial light. You bring your hand up to block it – since when have you had these? Gangly things with a red wire further down in… your elbow. That’s not a wire – that’s a tube. Of blood? Your blood. You have blood.

You remember now. You were born with hands and elbows, knees, feet, organs and fat and a copious amount of blood. A collarbone you’ve broken more than once. A body that was molded in the crucible of battle.

And holy shit does that body hurt. That hindbrain wasn’t exaggerating when it said that you are a being of suffering.

A dull throbbing is behind your eyes as they rove around the room. They land on a button neatly labeled Call Nurse. You press it and wait.

Everything after that is a blur. Nurses, doctors, “Follow my finger with your eyes, but don’t move your head,” poking and prodding with various instruments, “Tilt your head back so I can feel your neck,” blue latex gloves, “How much do you remember?”, bright lights in your eyes.

One nurse checks the dressings on your forehead. It’s just above your temple. His hands are rubbery and unfeeling as he re-dresses it. A trickle of cold liquid dribbling down from an alcohol swab. Bandages press against your skin. “What’s your name and date of birth?”, “Can you name the members of the task force you’re a part of?”

A man cuts through the blur as he comes thundering through the door. A balaclava with a skull pattern. Three men are behind him, hanging in the doorframe, out of the way. But the man moves quickly towards you, standing on the edge of the crowd of medical professionals, pacing back and forth, eyes on you, like how a sheepdog circles its sheep. Longing, waiting. Held back by an invisible leash of respect.

After a while, most of the personnel disperse, leaving you with a transient global amnesia diagnosis, a nurse, and the men. But even then, they leave after casting a glance at the sheepdog.

He moves closer, then stares at you for a while. He’s expecting something. His brown eyes are like sodium lights. A small trickle of streets and the sky. In your mind, you know he’s the place to be. You’re still alive while he’s around.

Yeah. He’s groovy. You want to disco with him. He is disco. But somewhere, a deep unaccessed area of your mind is saying, “You don’t want to disco like this. Not really. Not in the deepest part of your soul, where blond eyelashes only make you sad.”

Wait – come on, what are you talking about? Sad blond eyelashes? Blond eyelashes are fun!

“Why do I hurt all of a sudden?”

“Hey, it’s alright, darl.” He kneels by your bed and takes your hand in both of his. They’re warm, rough, calloused in places you thought couldn’t be calloused. “It’s me, it’s Simon.”

“What?” You pull your hand away from his. “I don’t know a Simon.”

Simon scoffs, but it’s more of an exhale of disbelief. “Don’t you remember me?”

“No.” You narrow your eyes. “Should I?”

Simon crumbles before you. His sodium streetlight eyes go out with an explosion of guilt – the bulbs pop with a fizzy sound. He looks like he should be groveling at the feet of a feudal lord, providing excessive evidence of his crimes, or throwing a cat-of-nine-tails over his shoulder and ripping the flesh from his own back. Whatever made him this way – you can be damn sure it was your fault. Those three simple words, instead of “I love you,” are “No. Should I?”

“It’s me.” Simon’s voice cracks as he speaks. Tears flood his waterline. He takes off his mask, revealing his pale face and dyed-blond hair. “It’s your Simon.”

“Simon,” you say softly. You look at him and hurt. A hole in your still-beating pig heart. Blood spills out from where the bullet went in.

“No. Nothing.” You look down at his hand. It’s palm-up, splayed out where you let go of it. It curls up into a fist, then Simon pulls it into his lap.

He says nothing. Just stares at you like you’re familiar yet somehow unknown.

You don’t know what to say. You just can’t conjure up any thoughts as you stare back. The morphine can’t be the cause of your dumbness. And it certainly isn’t the new modafinil that was just introduced to your system.

You search his eyes and feel, above all things, lost. Lonely in a hospital full of people.

Simon pulls away. His breathing is heavy and labored. A single tear slips down his scarred cheek. He doesn’t look like he’s one to cry. The tear leaves a trail of wet that looks like a new scar.

He tugs his balaclava back on and shuffles out, casting one last longing glance over his shoulder before closing the door behind him with a soft click.

That’s where it is. He is disco. He’s stumbling through the streets of Manchester. Hurting. Longing. Loving. Dancing to disco music.

You’re stuck in the hospital for a week for physical therapy and observation. Simon visits intermittently. He brings things to jog your memory – men that are part of Task Force 141, small snow globes from where you and he have apparently been deployed. Some of them work. But none of them bring back any memory of your apparent relationship with Simon – your boyfriend.

Today he comes in with a small device. It’s not a phone, but resembles it. A small wire comes from the amp and ends in a small circle of plastic.

You point at it. “What’s that?”

“It’s a contact microphone.” Simon settles in the chair that’s set up by your bed. He points at the blocky part of it. “This part holds the recording. You can play it back if needed.”

“Are you going to play it back?” You ask.

“No,” Simon says. “This one is blank.”

You take it from Simon’s hand and turn it over, looking at it. Examining. “Then why are you showing me this?”

“You are…” Simon sighs, trying to find the words. “You were a profoundly talented interrogator. You used contact microphones to record the interrogation, the confessions, the works. There’s a specified interrogation chamber underground. Contact microphones pick up the noise better down there.”

You continue looking it over. Fiddling with the wire. Running your thumb over the mesh of the microphone.

“Anything?” Simon says.

You close your eyes and think. Contact microphone… violence, blood. There’s a welding torch in there somewhere. The smell of bubbling flesh and burning hair. Cauterization without anesthesia. It was that way on purpose.

You open your eyes and look at Simon. “Interrogation.”

“Obviously.” Simon huffs out a laugh. It sounds forced. “I told you that.”

“Yes.” You sigh, looking down at the contact microphone. You try to think more. Contact… physical contact. Your fist making contact. Something hard. Solid bone breaking under your hands.

But also… something soft. Something that smells good. Smells homey. A black hoodie with some cheesy skull pattern on it. Actually, a closet full of black and grey clothes. A monotone voice to match a monotone closet.

The clothes smell faintly of cigarettes. A carton that’s mostly empty. They taste better than regular cigarettes – they’re some European brand.

“Do…” You look up at Simon. “Do you smoke?”

“Why?” Simon asks. “Do I smell like cigs?”

“No. Just…”

You close your eyes and try to remember more. The carton is a brown-orange color. The back is plastered with warnings about nicotine being an addictive chemical. No filters. A smooth, walnut-esque finish.

“Revaality,” you finally say and look up at Simon.

“Yes! Yes.” Simon takes your hand instinctively, excitedly. He smiles. Like crying, it doesn’t really fit him, but you’re glad he’s smiling anyway. “That’s the brand I smoke. I smoke Revaality.”

He takes your face in his hand and guides you to look at him. His sodium light eyes are bright once again. “Anything else? Lovie, please…”

You cringe away from his touch. Again, Simon is punched in the fucking face when he remembers that you don’t know him. Not like that.

Simon pulls his hands away. “Shit. I…”

“It’s okay,” you say quickly. “I know.”

I know you know a different version of me. The thought lingers, loud and unsaid. Simon, you’re a man with a lot of past, but little present, and almost no future. I’m sorry we only live in your memories, because I don’t even have those.

“I’m trying.” You look down at the contact microphone. “Believe me, I’m trying.”

“I believe you,” Simon says. “It’s just… it’s hard.”

Silence for a while. The artificial lights above you buzz and cast harsh shadows on Simon’s face. He looks… tired.

“I still love you,” he says quietly. Almost a whisper. “I… you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

He rests a hand on the railing of your hospital bed. “I’m not the best. I drink. I smoke. I have a laundry list of mental issues and types of trauma. So much it’s not even funny.”

“But you…” he sighs. “You fell in love with me anyway.”

You look up at him. He’s crying again. A pang of empathy in your heart. You don’t know why, but you don’t want to see him cry. The tears that cut through the dirt on his face are unbefitting.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is a mirror of Simon’s. Soft and wavering. “I want to remember. I don’t even know what happened to me. The doctors always dance around it when I ask.”

Simon bunches the end of his sleeve up in his hand and wipes away his tears. “You were a fucking idiot. That’s what happened.”

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“Not in a bad way.” Simon lets go of his sleeve and rests his hand on the railing of your bed again. “You love too much and too hard. You saved me.”

“It… the building…” He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing his waterline to clear of tears. “The building was coming down. We thought we were out of danger close. But there was a piece of rebar that…”

Simon looks down at his lap. He’s ashamed. “It was supposed to hit me. I was supposed to die. I’m used to it. I’m used to close calls and blood transfusions.”

“But I’m not used to…” He glances up at you through his eyelashes. His long, blond eyelashes. “People I care about being hurt. Or people caring about me in general.”

“Simon.” You reach out and lay your hand over his where it rests on the railing. He holds his breath like he’s afraid.

A pause. You want to be sure of your words before you speak.

“I’m going to try my damndest to remember,” you say. “Even if I don’t remember everything, I – I want to try to learn to care about you again. Because, based on our limited interactions, I know you’re a good man. Even if you drink and even if you smoke and even if you have a laundry list of mental issues and an assortment of trauma.”

Simon slowly brings his other hand and rests it on top of yours. His callouses brush against your knuckles. Abrasive yet comforting in a way you barely remember.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Really, truly. Thank you.”

And, in this moment, Simon finally has some sense of control in an ever-turbulent world. The world that tried to take his one and only love. The world that has taken his one and only love and is only now feeding him droplets of what he knows – what he once knew. He must exercise this control carefully, lest he lose you again.

In the sky, there are no dogfights and no silverplate bombers. Only stars and the rabbit curled up on the moon and a singular winking comet. God is in Heaven. Everything is normal on Earth.

Somewhere, the spots from a disco ball freckle the dance floor once again.

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dearparrishh · 21 days

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i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again. i understand finding adam’s behaviour sometimes a bit infuriating. like, i do, but if you hate him for it we definetly won’t get along🤗no adam doesn’t accept gifts/any offers really from gansey obviously because his entire inner monologue is ‘i worked my whole life for this’ if he just let gansey give him stuff that would erase it. adam loves him so much - don’t pretend he’s just ungrateful, when the only time he lets people give him things is when he doesn’t need them (he hasn’t been working for them) or the one time he suffered transient global amnesia due to stress…he didn’t move into monmouth because he’s spent his entire life working to the moment he can leave that house and it would just erase everything he’s gone through to get there.

#adam parrish #yes you can hate him i mean opinions are opinions #but i cant trust ur opinion if you view him so 1 dimensionally #the raven cycle #ronan lynch #blue sargent #richard gansey #trc #pynch

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

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AITA FOR POTENTIALLY KEEPING IMPORTANT MEDICAL INFO FROM MY DAD?

⭕️⭕️⭕️

((Emojis so I can find it when it’s posted))

(Cw for terminal illness)

Honestly this situation has long passed but it’s weighing on me so I wanted to see what people thought.

My grandfather had been very very ill for the past few years, and passed recently. Before then, while he was still capable of speaking, he and my dad were talking on the phone, and they got into an argument and my grandfather ended up saying something that was incredibly earthshattering for my dad. I was in the room during the conversation. My dad is not very emotional, but it’s the kind of thing that left him sobbing. It broke him. I remember him saying specifically “I’m never going to forget that.”

Except he did.

Later that night my dad called me in a panic because he thought he forgot to do something that he was supposed to do that morning, and I reminded him that he did, in fact, do the thing. But then he kept calling me frantic because he didn’t do the thing. And after some conversation with him I realized that he was just straight up not remembering anything he did that day, and even when I would remind him, he still wasn’t absorbing it. He even drove somewhere, but he just couldn’t recall doing it. I was very afraid about this memory loss ; my dad has a problem with his blood pressure so I was concerned he may have had a stroke. So we went to the hospital and they did a bunch of tests on him. I had to tell the doctors about what happened because my dad couldn’t remember no matter how many times he was reminded. Something that came up frequently was if something major had happened before the memory loss occurred.

But I said not really. Because the conversation he’d had with my grandfather absolutely destroyed him, so badly that his brain just threw away the whole day so he wouldn’t have to remember. And honestly, I didn’t want him to remember something that made him feel like that. So I would tell the doctors that my dad spoke with my sick grandfather but it was just a routine call.

Now, ultimately, my dad ended up going through several rounds of neurological testing, and it turned out he was just experiencing transient global amnesia as a result of the trauma of that conversation, and he’s fine now. Still doesn’t remember that day and can’t absorb information I tell him about it, but neurologically he is fine. My dad did not receive any less treatment as a result of my not sharing the details of what was said.

My grandfather has since passed, and I don’t want that interaction to live in my dad’s head as one of the last ones they’ve ever had, so to this day I’ve never told him what my grandfather said. But sometimes I feel like it was wrong of me to keep that information.

AITA?

(Side note: my grandfather is not an unkind person. He was extremely well loved within his community and among us. I can’t speak highly enough about what a good man he was. but as he got closer to the end and as his mental facilities began to decline, sometimes he could get hostile. I know he would never intend to hurt my father or any of us, so I would never want to leave that impression with you. )

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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minefield-of-a-ninja · 11 months

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True Romance

Passion, established relationships, and coming home.

Bring It On Home - Dean Winchester x female reader

Summary: Let’s pretend Dean wouldn’t be terrified to welcome love into his life.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, established relationship, comfort, fluff, handsy Dean

Words: 1,200

Communion - Dean Winchester x female reader

prompt: Fluffy dean or Jensen smoking weed plz, ty

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, marijuana use

Words: 1K

Drag You To The Shore - Dean Winchester x GN reader

Prompt: Dean Winchester settled in between someone’s legs on the bed. Like his back to their chest, their legs wrapped around him, heels keeping his thighs open while they jerk him off, explicit but soft vibes.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY

Words: 800

Equilibrium - Dean Winchester x female reader

Summary: They have balance.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, established relationship, cock warming

Words: 1,400

God Only Knows - Dean Winchester x female reader

Summary: One weekend, years ago, lives rent-free in both of their minds. Three-part mini-series.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, pining, clothed sex, couch sex, hungover sex, fluff, roomies to lovers, idiots in love

Words: 5,500

If We Make It Through December - Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Summary: Donna is horrified to learn that the boys have never had a proper Christmas, so she invites them to her house for the holiday.

Warnings/tags: there was no rebar, 18+ ONLY, fluff, light angst, domesticity, holiday celebrations

Words: 12K

Laissez Les Bons Temp Rouler - Dean Winchester x female reader

Summary: He’s got a dirty mouth when he’s drunk.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dirty talk, a dirty public bathroom during Mardi Gras

Words: 600

Mind Blown - Dean Winchester x female reader

Summary: Mind-blowing orgasms can sometimes be literal.

Warnings/tags: mature, transient global amnesia after sex, dirty talk

Words: 560

One For Tomorrow, One Just For Today - Dean Winchester x female reader

Prompt: before leaving on a hunt, Dean sings “Love Me Two Times” to his lady.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLT, Dean can actually sing, and he does it during sex

Words: 660

Recompense - Dean Winchester x female reader

Summary: Dean is sorry for hurting the ones he loves.

Warnings/tags: mature, angst, Dean saying hurtful things then trying to make up for it

Words: 500

Seasons - Dean Winchester x unnamed female character

Summary: She is his safe haven, untouched by anything else or anyone.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, canon divergent - no Cassie or Lisa, non-linear storytelling, four seasons, angst, hurt/comfort, references non-con unprotected sex, loss of a pregnancy

Words: 12K

We Be All Night - Norman Reedus x female reader/you

Summary: The best sex, the most sex, the hottest sex, the raunchiest sex – the sex you’ll never forget, is with him.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, rough sex, semi-Public Sex, the jockey is my favorite sexual position, references to bloodplay, biting, sex that makes your neighbors hate you, fuck-you-into-the-floor sex, drunk in love, talking smack with your sex partner, squirting

Words: 2,060

With Pleasured Hands - Dean Winchester x female reader

Summary: He’s got secrets she has yet to uncover

Warnings/tags: mature

Words: 500

#dean winchester smut #norman reedus smut #master list shuffle 2023

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rebouks · 2 years

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“Uhm clearly I am a pirate; ‘cause I’m dressed like one, and I have a parrot. Duh.”

Julien Finley for @bobapplesimblr‘s The Krakens!

Following an incident with an overzealous apprentice and a rogue boom, Julien seems to have taken method acting a little too far. Upon waking; he became convinced he was the “Finn Redcap”; and Julien ceased to exist. Try not to call him Julien, he’ll get upset, offended and confused. Oh, and don’t try to pet Maggot, she bites.. and swears. A lot.

Self Assured

Romantic

Clumsy

A sweet, bear of a man with a nasty case of transient global amnesia, and a very loud voice.

#ts4 #sims 4 #cas portraits #thekrakensbobapplesims #extra #i love hiiiiiiimm #i wanna play with him too ;-;#ahaha #if you can dodge a wrench you can dodge a ball!

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alexiaugustin · 1 year

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when the dream thieves is the book where adam is the most consistently miserable and just goes from worrying about money and how the sacrifice he made is going to influence his life and take away from his autonomy to processing n dealing with his trauma to fighting with blue to suffering through an episode of transient global amnesia and forgetting gansey’s number thus not being able to reach out for help for hours to being broken up with etc etc but the dream thieves is also the book that starts off with a vague description of ronan’s second secret and closes with the line “ronan’s second secret was adam parrish”. so by the end of the book you know that through all of this misery there has always been someone who deeply cared about adam and loved him and ofc ronan was not the only person!.. but there’s still something so special and poetic about the implications of all this especially because they don’t even interact much on page in this book

#this essay is going absolutely nowhere. i don’t know how to articulate my thoughts abt this better #but I swear it all makes so much sense in my head #pynch

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fancifulpurposelesslovely · 8 months

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So Matthew's wandering episodes sure sound a lot like Adam's "transient global amnesia" in the Dream Thieves.

"Thanks for the straight teeth"

#fox reads trc #raven cycle #you know. the little things

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anon-skeleton · 1 year

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Hex #D8D2C8

He/him

Es hijo de Ink (de @/comyet) y Cross (de @/xtaleunderverse / @/jakei95 )

-Tiene 20 años

-Mide 1,51M

-Demisexual panromantico

-Es un chico amigable y calmado, además de inocentemente idiota

-El forma parte de WASD junto con Harom y Atenea

-El sufre de migrañas las cuales tienen cierta probabilidad de causarle episodios de amnesia global transitoria.

-Tiene una relación con Lolita (de @shinestar06 )

He is the son of Ink (by @/comyet) and Cross (by @/xtaleunderverse / @/jakei95 )

He's 20 years old

He's 1,51M tall

Demisexual panromantic

-He is a friendly and calm boy, as well as innocently stupid

-He is part of WASD along with Harom and Atenea

-He suffers from migraines which have a certain probability of causing episodes of transient global amnesia.

-He has a relationship with Lolita (by @shinestar06 )

I still hungry- AhAHaa see ya

#xanthi fanchild #undertale fanchild #jas stuff #undertale au #sans au #sanscest child #fanchild #utmv au #utmv

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doodle-pops · 2 years

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Hi, I saw your reaction asks and I was wondering if you could do this please. It's a heavy topic, so do feel free to deny it or ignore:)

I have a condition thanks to a traumatic past called transient global amnesia, were I could suddenly forgot someone I know for years and I would be very scared and frightened of them until I remember them again. But once I remember them it's all right, though there's always 100% it will happen again . I can't control when it happens nor can I control my actions or thoughts. Which of the elves would try and adjust to this and which would find it too difficult to have a s/o with this condition

I read this and tears sprang from my eyes. I won't turn your ask down, I'll answer seeing that I understand the significance it would hold to you. ❤ I want to ask how do you manage, but I don't want to pry.

Your condition is truly one that they've probably never heard of, so when they learn about all the symptoms and causes, expect to be babied. All of them would be heartbroken to learn that you would sometimes lose memories of them, but because elves love so deeply, they wouldn't reject being with you. They would cherish every minute they can spend with you, even if you forget. They would stick by your side refusing to leave and doing all their best to keep you safe and loved.

Pre!Angband Maedhros, Maglor, Caranthir, Celebrimbor, Fingolfin, Fingon, Turgon, Finarfin, Finrod, Aegnor, Glorfindel, Galdor, Ecthelion, Egalmoth, Rog

I chose to stick with making it positive and light and wrote only for elves quick to adjust. Everyone I chose would all take the matter seriously, thus no one is in caps.

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wrathfulrook · 9 months

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I just read your TGA fic on ao3, It was such a cool and interesting read and i know in the summary/notes you said you specifically experienced this! I’m glad you’re okay!! (And the one shot was really good i loved it and the way john treats the situation!!)

Thank you so much!

I wasn't too worried about my episode at the time, actually. I'd assumed it was due to my injuries. (The cliff is 70 ft high and I ended up so bruised and sore from hitting the water that I didn't get out of bed for two days and then I didn't even know I cracked a rib until weeks later when everything else had healed lol.) Apparently transient global amnesia actually quite traumatic for a lot of people but I was lucky and had a reason that I thought it had happened, instead of just having amnesia for no obvious reason. I didn't even know what TGA was until like a month ago, six years after my episode. I read an article and was like oh. Oops. The water I hit was 30-odd degrees... that checks.

The line Patience opens with, "I don't mean to freak you out but I don't know anything" is what I opened with. I knew my friends' names and that we worked together with animals but I didn't know what kind (chimpanzees. I'm a primatologist lol idk why I didn't assume primates...). I knew I was out west, but didn't know what state (Tamolitch Blue Pool is in Oregon). I wanted to call my mom because I was upset and confused but the Blue Pool is the middle of nowhere, so I had no service. I wanted to know why I jumped off a cliff (I was afraid it was a suicide attempt lmao depression). And I was apparently very preoccupied about where my new yellow converse were. It's all very fascinating and googling and reading people's first hand accounts of TGA is fascinating as hell...

You can't recall recent memories from days to weeks before it happens and you can't form any new memories at all. Then after a few hours you start remembering that it happened and think you're fine but still can't form new memories. So a lot of people, me included apparently, tell the story to anyone who will listen and be like wow isn't that crazy! Good thing I'm better now! Except that you tell that story and say that repeatedly for hours. But then it usually stops after a few hours and ALWAYS stops within 24 hours. And then you're fine and have no more issues or any lasting complications. A TGA episode has no ties to future strokes, dementia, disease, anything. It's wild.

Sorry for rambling... I just think it's so fascinating. Especially that I just rolled with it for years without a second thought lmao. (Sorry for rambling. It's cleaning day so I'm high...)

Anyway tl;dr TGA is interesting af and John Seed is very sexy and manipulative :) Thank you for reading my fic!

#personal #high tag #transient global amnesia #tga #oc: patience ekner

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