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go-for-it-kacchan · 12 days

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The One You Want to Forget

Deku gets hit by a quirk that makes him forget Katsuki, and it's like he's been carved out of every important moment in Deku's life. Katsuki's taken aback by the changes in his personality. And pissed off. Not that he cares (he cares a lot).

[Something fun I wrote while catching up with the manga. Here's Chapter 1. Chapter 2 is also up on ao3, where I'll be posting the rest]

Katsuki let out a curse as his shoulder slammed into the concrete. He rolled a few times before he was able to stop himself and stagger onto his feet. He must’ve hit his head at some point; his ears were ringing and the cracked pavement swam in his vision. He shook his head to clear it, barely lurching to the side in time to avoid the hurtling mass of his attacker flying at him.

The man, a small-framed piece of shit with horns and absurdly strong goat legs, landed hard on the concrete, bleating in pain. He’d landed right at Katsuki’s feet, and Katsuki leered down at him, debating the utility (and acceptability) of setting off an explosion right in the bastard’s face. Instead, he reached for the set of handcuffs on his belt and started to bend down.

“Kacchan!”

Katsuki ducked to the side as a wave of force barely missed his head. He looked over his shoulder as he dragged Goat-face over to a streetlight and cuffed his wrists around the pole. Deku was airborne, having kicked away the woman who was shooting those force blasts. She twisted in the air, one hand to her forehead as she sent out another blast with her other hand. She was bloodied and panting, but Deku looked like shit after having a fucking car land on him.

Biting back a grunt, Katsuki straightened, working through the pain of a possibly broken rib. Goat-face groaned behind him, rattling the handcuffs against the streetlight. This was stupid, a couple of low-level nobodies getting the jump on them. The day had started out so mind-numbingly normal, a slow weekend patrol that Katsuki had taken as a chance to get away from having to gopher for the extras at Endeavor’s agency. Then the side of a building had exploded and he’d had to help rush away the crowds of people that had been ambling about with their families. Some stuck around in the periphery of the battle zone, cameras flashing. Katsuki only hoped they’d stay out of the way.

He heard Deku cry out just before something slammed into his side, bowling him over. Katsuki looked back to see that Goat-face had roused and kicked him in his aching rib. Stumbling back upright, he unleashed a point-blank blast at the bastard’s face, making him against the streetlight. He turned back to Deku but couldn’t yell out in time before a huge wave of force crashed into him as the woman screamed in rage. Deku fell back, limp, and without thinking Katsuki scrambled over to him. He knelt, pulling Deku onto his knees, unable to stop the stream of “no, no, no, no, fuck!” from escaping his lips.

The crowd exclaimed and gasped at the the arrival of another hero, and Todoroki whooshed past Katsuki at the woman. She flicked a hand at him and he staggered back as she turned tail and vanished into a destroyed alley.

Katsuki wasn’t really watching, barely registering that she’d gotten away. Deku was pale, chest heaving as he gasped quick, shallow breaths. He smacked Deku’s cheek, trying to remember his first responder training and not shake him too hard.

“Fucking hell, Deku, wake up! What the fuck was that, fuck!”

Endeavor landed a few feet in front of him. “What happened? Did they get away?”

Icy Hot looked a little green as he swayed on his feet. “Did who what?”

Katsuki gaped at him, still clutching Deku. “The bitch who shot you with her Quirk! You fucking had her and she got away!”

Todoroki squinted at him for a second before his eyes widened in recognition. “Oh! I forgot! How did…?” He gripped his head. “I don’t know how, but I just… forgot what I was doing.”

“What the fuck? How the fuck do you just forget what you’re doing?”

“It must have something to do with her Quirk…” Todoroki glanced over at his father, who had unhooked Goat-face from the streetlight and was now leading him to a police car. “Were there any others?”

Katsuki shook his head. “Just Goat-face over there. Deku got hit, too, pretty hard.”

A couple of EMTs jogged over to them, and Katsuki had to force himself to let go of Deku so he could be placed on a stretcher. Katsuki relayed what had happened and watched as Deku was wheeled away. Another EMT insisted on checking over Katsuki, and he was too bone weary to fight her on it.

Katsuki leaned back against the wall of Deku’s hospital room, watching as Recovery Girl went over some charts on her clipboard. She’d gotten Katsuki’s rib healed enough that he could move pretty well, but it was still sore and she’d warned him off of strenuous exercise for a while, not that he’d listen. It’d only been a day, not long enough to be worried, given his injuries, but Katsuki had rushed over after class, asking Recovery Girl to go over everything again.

“Well, his vital signs are normal, brain activity looks good. I looked over Todoroki’s scans, too, and there doesn’t seem to be any lasting effects for him. But Midoriya was hit harder, and there’s no way to determine any effects on his memory until he wakes up. But he should soon,” she amended quickly. Again. She gave him a sympathetic and mildly exasperated smile. She pulled a candy from her pocket and offered it to him

“Right.” Katsuki nodded curtly, pocketing the ball of sugar and food coloring. He heard a gaggle of voices and footsteps approaching the room and sighed. That would be the nerd squad.

“Is Deku awake yet?” Uraraka carried in a large basket of fruit as Iida and Asui trailed in behind her. “Oh, Bakugou! I wondered where you were off to in such a hurry.” She set down the basket on the table next to Deku’s bed.

Recovery Girl hopped down from her chair and gathered her clipboard. She waddled to the door and patted Katsuki on the arm. “Don’t get too boisterous, now. Let me know if anything changes.”

Todoroki and Kirishima popped their heads in through the door soon after she left. Icy Hot didn’t spare Katsuki a glance as he strode past him to the edge of Deku’s bed.

“He looks better than yesterday.”

“That’s not saying much,” Katsuki muttered under his breath.

Kirishima, who’d stuck around near the door with him, gripped his shoulder encouragingly, but didn’t say anything. Katsuki didn’t feel like shrugging him off, so he didn’t.

“What about you, Half and Half? Remember to wipe your ass this morning?” Katsuki ignored the disdainful looks that earned him.

“Your concern is really touching,” Todoroki replied breezily. Katsuki couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic. “No, I’m not having any memory issues.”

Katsuki scoffed and just scowled at the floor.

“I’m sure Midoriya will be fine,” Iida said, nodding with his usual baseless confidence. “He’s gone through worse, and I think Todoroki’s condition is a good indicator that he’ll be okay.”

The others murmured their agreement, but Katsuki didn’t pick his gaze up from the floor. They started coordinating how to get Deku the notes for the day of class he missed, which segued into upcoming training exercises and possible new strategies. Mentally, Katsuki picked through their suggestions and sorted them into categories of “Pretty Good”, “Could Work”, and “What the Fuck Does That Even Mean”, but it was half-assed and most of his attention was on his shoe scuffing the floor. Finally, he had enough of their blathering and righted himself to leave. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t really care if anyone noticed as he left.

Katsuki left for class early, finding the idea of sticking around the dorms unbearable. Uraraka tried to call out to him as he passed by her in the common area, but he pretended not to hear her as he stepped into the elevator. The classroom was empty as he stalked in, dropping his bag onto his desk with a thunk and falling back into his chair. He wasn’t that early, though, only getting a few minutes to stare out the window by himself sulkily before the other students started to file in, and then Aizawa-sensei, just before the bell rang.

No Deku today, either, then.

But before Aizawa could start addressing the students, the door slammed open and a familiar crop of green hair bobbed in an apologetic bow.

“Sorry I’m late! I had to check in with Recovery Girl this morning.”

“In your seat, Midoriya. Don’t delay us further,” Aizawa deadpanned.

The rest of the class, of course, ignored him, calling out to Deku with “Glad to have you back!” and “Yay! You’re alright!” and “You should just live in the nurse’s office.” Deku gave mildly embarrassed and good-humored replies to Four Eyes and Round Cheeks and Icy Hot as he made his way to his seat. He didn’t even glance at Katsuki as he passed, just sat and started pulling books out of his bag.

Katsuki turned in his chair and put his elbow on Deku’s desk. “Hey, you shitty nerd. Where the fuck do you get off getting caught out like that?”

Deku looked up at him in surprise and chuckled nervously. “Um, I’m sorry, who are you?”

All chatter ceased, but Katsuki couldn’t even hear the silence as the blood started to rush in his ears.

He hadn’t even waited before grabbing Deku by the wrist and dragging him to Recovery Girl’s office. “Is this a fucking prank? If you’re playing me, I swear to God and Buddha I’m going to blow your fucking face off!”

“Um, I’m not lying! I don’t know you and I don’t need to go to the nurse!” Deku resisted, a little weakly, being pulled down the hallways. He didn’t seem to have the wherewithal to actually stop Katsuki dragging him despite his protests, which only enraged him more.

“The hell you don’t! How did Recovery Girl clear you when—”

“Look, okay, I’ll go with you, just please let go! Er…” Deku finally stopped and jerked his hand from Katsuki’s grip. “Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

Katsuki had continued stomping down the hall, but froze at that. He turned slowly back to Deku, feeling his stomach go cold. “What?”

“I don’t…know what to call you. I’m Izuku Midoriya, um, are you a transfer student?”

“I’m—!” You’re supposed to call me Kacchan. What was Katsuki supposed to say to that? “Fuck that!” He pointed down the hall in the direction of Recovery Girl’s office, which was thankfully just one more turn away.

Deku stared at him for a second before raising his hands in surrender and walking past him to the nurses office. Katsuki watched his back, quietly fuming. Deku stopped in front of the door, but before he could knock, Katsuki kicked it open.

“There’s something wrong with him!”

Recovery Girl startled as she turned from her desk. “Hmm?”

“Can’t you do your frikking job?!” Katsuki wilted immediately as Recovery Girl raised an eyebrow and ducked his head. “Uh, sorry. Just… Him!” He pointed to Deku, who’d followed him apologetically into the office. “He doesn’t remember me!”

Recovery Girl’s brows knitted together at that and she turned to Deku. “Please have a seat, Midoriya.” She gestured to the seat next to her.

Deku shot Katsuki a doubtful look but sat down. “Do I… really know him?”

“Oh my fucking god,” Katsuki muttered. He shut up when Recovery Girl shot him a glare.

“We already did a test of your cognitive abilities this morning.” She turned to her computer and pulled up a few files. “And your brain scan looked about normal when you woke up… Can you list the students in your class? Everyone you can remember.”

Deku nodded and listed every member of class 1-A, in seating order, except for Katsuki, skipping over him after Hagakure. Figures, that fucking nerd could probably list them in order of height and birthday, too. Recovery Girl just nodded, humming thoughtfully as she typed into her computer.

“You’re kidding.” Katsuki could only stare, first at Deku, then at Recovery Girl, then back. What the hell was happening? “We f…reaking grew up together! Since we were, like, in diapers!”

Deku scratched his neck. “I don’t have any friends I’ve known that long. I don’t even talk to anyone from middle school.”

“Yes, you do!” Katsuki pulled out his phone, pulling up the class group chat and scrolling until he found a thread of photos someone had posted of a night 1-A had spent hanging out in the common area of the dorm. “Look, here, these photos!” He shoved his phone at Deku’s chest.

Deku fumbled the phone for a second as he raised it to his face. “Oh, I remember this! We did impromptu karaoke with Jiro’s laptop, that was fun! But then Aizawa-sensei chewed us out for making a racket and made us go to bed.” He paused and brought the phone closer to his face. “And you’re here… But I don’t remember you…”

He started to scroll up, and usually letting someone just paw at his phone would give Katsuki hives, but he just stared dumbly at Deku as he continued to thumb through the chat, pausing whenever he saw a photo of Katsuki (almost always taken without his knowledge). “Satou teaching us how to bake, that time Kaminari got hit with that painter guy’s Quirk and he was pink for a week— I thought Ashido said she was going to delete this photo… I remember all of this. Just not…you.”

“Gimme that!” Katsuki grabbed his phone, starring at the column of photos as if they could tell him what was going on. “How the fuck can you remember all that and not…”

“Bakugou, please be quiet for a second.” Recovery Girl finished typing. “Do you remember your first term final exam with All Might?”

Deku nodded. “Yes.”

“Who were you partnered with?”

“I wasn’t partnered with anyone, since we have… had an odd number of students.”

“What about the training camp? Do you remember how that ended?’

Deku thought for a moment. “We were attacked by the League of Villains, so it was cut short.” He fidgeted a little uncomfortably. Probably remembering what came after.

“Do you remember Bakugou being taken by the League?”

Katsuki tensed, watching Deku’s every move, every twitch of his fingers, the tilt of his head, for any sign that he remembered. Deku’s eyes only widened and he turned to Katsuki.

“They kidnapped you? That must’ve been awful!” He said it with so much sincerity that Katsuki wanted to vomit.

“You were there!” Katsuki couldn’t stop from shouting. Recovery Girl looked at him disapprovingly, but didn’t say anything. “It happened in front of you, and then you and a bunch of idiots went and…!” He cut himself off. Deku was staring at him like he was telling him something a drunk uncle had done. He didn’t know what was worse, reliving the humiliation of inciting All Might’s retirement or the blank look on Deku’s face.

Deku turned to Recovery Girl. “I remember I was so angry about the attack, and scared what they might do next, so I got with some friends and found one of the League’s hideouts… I remember Aizawa-sensei was so mad at us…we almost got expelled.”

She nodded. “That’s all true, except that on your little unsanctioned escapade, you were trying to rescue that load of trouble over there.” She tilted her head toward Katsuki. “They were able to rescue him because of you.”

Deku looked down and chewed his lip. “I don’t like that I can’t remember any of this, but I don’t feel like I’m missing anything. There’s no gaps in my memory or weird holes that don’t make sense…”

“Everything about this doesn’t make sense!” Katsuki snapped.

Recovery Girl put up a hand. “It seems like his mind is filling in the gaps in ways that make sense to him, but his memory seems otherwise intact and cognitively he’s fine. The human brain is really quite remarkable.” She chuckled to herself. “Well, Endeavor is working on finding the villain who did this, and from what I last heard, they’re making progress. And given Todoroki’s recovery, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to think Midoriya will similarly recover. It will likely just take more time because of the strength of the attack. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”

Katsuki thought there were many, many things to worry about. Like, so many he couldn’t quantify (or even really describe) them.

Deku just nodded, accepting the granny’s words. “Thank you, Recovery Girl! Can I go back to class now?”

“Yes, I think you should be fine. You miss enough classes as it is. If you do start remembering something, please let me know.” She turned to Katsuki. “I know you’re worried about your friend, but I don’t think it’ll help if you push him on it too hard.”

“’E’s not my frikkin’ friend,” Katsuki muttered grumpily. He didn’t respond to the other part of her statement.

“Well, if you boys have no more questions, I say you should run along back to class. And probably refrain from interrupting class again for this unless absolutely necessary.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Katsuki just nodded, turning on his heel to exit the office. He got several steps ahead before Deku caught up with him at a jog. Deku didn’t say anything, so neither did he. They walked down the halls side by side, and somehow it felt just awful but Katsuki couldn’t decide if he’d rather be in front or behind, so he just kept pace.

#boku no hero academia #bnha ao3 #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #amnesia fic #bakudeku #my writing

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ectoplasmic-entity · 3 months

Note

I saw your post about Dan fic requests.

Hmm... what about... Can you write a ficlet in which Dan gets amnesia?

I'm more used to writing longer stories, to be honest. This one required some extra thought on how to keep it short without bloating it. I think keeping some details vague helped a lot.

Who knows how an amnesiac Dan would behave or do?

I gave'er a whack. But you tell me what you think (>ᴗ•)

Genre: Gen

Rating: Teen

Content Warnings: N/A

Words: 500+

She only meant to shoot him in the shoulder. Allegedly.

---

It burns. It burns.

Dan inhaled deeply, his body shuddered violently as he did so. It panged with a burning ache that ate away at him. He was aware he was stuck… somewhere. Dan leaned forward to get his bearings, only to fling himself back into place once his head began to spin.

A pounding throbbed throughout his skull.

Focus. He needed to focus.

Dan’s head fell back, rough and rugged material dug into him. Another, shakier breath. Broken, cragged shapes amassed around him. Twisted and spiraling.

He tried to close his eyes. Wait for the chaos to fade, for his body to be sturdy enough to get up without falling over. Dan grimaced, his fingers dug into the hard material that surrounded him. A piercing pain stabbed through his head, a faint ringing took over his train of thought.

Dan groaned softly. Smoldering pain surged down the side of his body. The ringing pain ran to the forefront of his mind, clouding any coherence he had left.

Out. He needed to get out. Away from… his thoughts. Too muddled, barely strung together. Missing.

Dan heaved himself out of his spot, his body hunched over. His arm dangled awkwardly with a bright green liquid gushing down. A concurrent of agony and numbness weighed him down, a sickening warmth sunk into him. Sweat disgustingly stuck to his face.

Slowly, Dan began to walk forwards. His hand held his shoulder as to not aggravate it with his motions. His feet shuffled along the dusty ground, kicking up small clouds. He was faintly aware of the green liquid dripping off of his hand. He could… smell it.

A dull light streaked above him, highlighting the silhouettes of huge… piles of debris? His muddled mind struggled to find a thought, a blank, static image played out before his eyes. Something… important. Dan had no idea what it was.

It was the same everywhere he looked. A flattened landscape that was ‘here’, there was no ‘where’ as far as Dan could see. Nothing of familiarity came to mind. He had apparently been buried within the wreckage. Quiet, sturdy breaths blew out of his mouth. Discomfort dug into him.

His head throbbed the more he tried to think about it. Seemingly reprimanding him for thinking about it too much.

A hot flash lit up his insides. Dan grunted in effort to swallow down the sick feeling, his limbs wavered. Through the cloudiness and the sweat, he managed to ease his form against a sturdy structure, and leaned back in relief. Warm breaths of relief escaped him, never mind his injured shoulder that ached in retaliation. The ache pulsed through him, it almost brought Dan to a lull.

Dan wasn’t sure how long he spent in that position. Exhausted to the point of sickness, finding relief hiding in the ruins. Hiding like some…

Animal.

The word stuck out to him. It… did seem to apply to him, in a way.

Dan closed his eyes to rest his mind a bit. His eyes were sore from trying to take everything in, make sense of where he was. His head continued to pound, albeit more dully.

Before he knew it, he sensed… someone in front of him. A wariness that set him on edge. His eyes snapped open.

An unfamiliar woman stood before him, decked out in a red suit. He didn’t see much else, the details blurred together.

Dull red eyes stared in confusion.

Dan found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

#danny phantom #dan phantom #fanfiction #kai's writing 💚😈#valerie gray #amnesia fic #gen fic #open ended #ficlet #dark danny #tumblr writers #fanfiction community #fanfiction blog #phanfic #dp fic #danny phantom fanfiction

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ggadtomarry · 6 months

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Amnesia Tomarry!

I've never seen such a fic, so if anyone knows, please send recs!!!

So, after an epic long story (implied) Tomarry where Tom and Harry fall in love and are in a relationship and happy ending...

one morning Harry wakes up and seeing Tom he has an heart attack.

Why is Voldemort looking young? Where is he? What is going on?!

In short, Harry loses the last... 10 years? And remembers just until his 17 years. And he can't imagine him entering in a relationship with the horrible monster who killed his parents and countless others.

He's horrified by it.

Tom take is very hard. Something breaks inside him when a terrified Harry screams "I HATE YOU!".

Well, he never deserved Harry, isn't it right?

#tom riddle #tomarry #lord voldemort #harry potter #tomarrymort #amnesia fic

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darjeelinh · 4 months

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drawing blanks | rating: M | complete (9.5k words)

chapter 1 chapter 2

—————————

Summary:

Five years ago, Wylan woke up on a hospital bed, with twenty years of his memory crossed out from his brain. He’d given up on trying to remember, until one evening, when he heard that inexplicably familiar voice.

For five years, Jesper had been scouring the earth in vain for a familiar face — someone with auburn hair and blue eyes. Until tonight, when he locked eyes with a stranger.

The only clue to their past was standing in front of them, yet they didn’t remember each other. All they knew was that they couldn’t let the other slip away again.

— or, a story about a tear in the universe, gut feelings, half-finished portraits, and how the heart also has its own muscle memory.

as always, forever thankful for @starklystar for being the bestest beta reader and constant enabler 🖤

#six of crows #shadow and bone #six of crows fic #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #wesper #wylan x jesper #amnesia fic #soc fic #soc fic rec #fic rec #my fic #my writing

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mandrillusphinx · 7 months

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Tlou amnesia storyline ideas have taken over my brain! Gifs of Joel waking up in the hospital made me think of it. If you have fic recs please share :)

Like Joel and Ellie are living in Jackson and something happens to one of them, and suddenly they have no idea who they are, where they are, etc.

Maybe Ellie gets hurt and is curled up with Joel after, and suddenly wakes up like “who the fuck are you?!”

Or the type of amnesia where you remember some stuff from the past, but not recent stuff.

Like, Joel is living happily with Ellie in Jackson but then he’s hurt and is suddenly back in his QZ or even Hunter-era headspace. Asking Tommy what the hell is going on, who is this kid, where is Tess??

Tommy with amnesia would also be interesting. Joel and Maria might have to work their shit out to help him.

Oooh or if Tommy went back to hunter-Tommy in his mind, so from his perspective he’s suddenly living in this peaceful place with a wife who loves him and a baby on the way and his brother acting human again? He’d be really thrown but he might have a breakdown from sheer relief, since he was so torn up and empty and miserable when they were hurting people like that. And more-healed-Joel would have to face how much pain Tommy had been in, and how shut down he himself had been to push that away and ignore it.

Anyway… 🧠💥

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feralghxuls · 1 month

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THESE BITCHES GAY. OUHHHGHGHGHH

more mountain pov from ch4 of amnesia fic

His eyes fall on Dew’s bass then, leaning quietly against the bedside table, and before he makes a conscious decision he’s stretching a hand out for it and pulling it onto the bed with them. It’s a little tricky to find room for it with Dew taking up so much of his body, but Mountain manages. Carefully, he settles the body of it in the space beside him, gently resting the base of the neck against Dew. He doesn’t stir, so Mountain figures it’s alright.

It takes him a minute to figure out the miniature amp, studying the dials and symbols until he’s pretty sure he has it set to the lowest possible volume. He braces himself before he plugs it into the bass, fearing the screeching of feedback, but there’s only the softest rumble from the speaker. Mountain has no idea what he’s doing. Dew has tried to teach him the basics a few times, but his fingers are awkward on the fretboard and the strings foreign to his touch. Still, he remembers a couple of basic chords, his fingers shifting into position. He plucks softly at the strings, pleased by the sounds he produces. It’s slow, and he soon runs out of real chords to play and begins making things up.

Mountain’s fingers begin to pluck at the strings with a rhythm from muscle memory, and realizes it’s the intro of [song]. He smiles to himself, shifting his right hand to rest his wrist on the top of the fretboard and turns his attention to his strumming hand. He experiments the way he’s seen Dew and Aether and Ifrit do, switching between pulling at individual strings and giving them a solid tap with a fingertip. He drums all four fingers along various strings, pleased with the resulting sound, and does it again, with different strings.

He’s so zoned in on this that he doesn’t realize Dew is awake, not until he shifts to roll most of the way on his back against Mountain’s chest and rolls his head back to look up at him. Mountain pauses, resting his arm against the bass, and lets out a low, pleased chirp at Dew.

“I didn’t ask for that so you could play it,” Dew mumbles, still half asleep, his voice low and rough. It sends a warm, comfortable thrill through Mountain’s chest, reminding him of all the times he’d woken Dew on the tour bus for a pit stop or their arrival at hotels or venues. The rare times Dew had spent nights with Mountain at the hotel, how he’d wake long before Mountain but keep quiet enough that his voice still had that sleepy rasp to it.

“Mount,” Dew says, nudging him with the back of his head. “You hear me?”

Mountain [vocalizes] in return, and Dew rolls his eyes.

“Let me up, I’ll show you,” he says, shifting again, starting to sit up as far as he can make it in the circle of Mountain’s arms and the bass in front of him, then stops and turns to give Mountain a pointed look. Reluctantly, Mountain moves the bass out of the way to let Dew up. He settles again on Mountain’s right side, folding his legs between them and scooting a little closer so his knees press against Mountain’s thigh. His fingers are warm on Mountain’s as he adjusts them on the fretboard, moving each one into place and giving the first knuckle a tap each time he’s done placing it.

Mountain watches Dew move his fingers around for a moment, then shifts to watch his face. His brow is creased in concentration, mouth tense and appearing smaller than usual, jaw tight, the muscle at the hinge jumping as his teeth grind ever so slightly. Finally Dew sits back to look up at him.

“That song you were playing. It’s [song], isn’t it?”

Mountain blinks at him, hope blooming in his chest. He nods, fingers tightening on the neck of the bass. “[song],” he echoes.

Dew grins at him, his tail flicking up beside him. “It’s playing in my head right now. My part, anyway. I can teach it to you.” He pauses, glancing down, his brow furrowing again, but this time it’s not to concentrate. “If I can remember how. I don’t even know if I put your fingers in the right place.”

Mountain stares at him for a moment, aching to know he can’t fix Dew’s frustration, aching to reach out and touch him. His hand drops without his permission from the fretboard to rest on Dew’s thigh, seeking his hand where it’s busy picking at the claws of his other. Mountain nudges at his palm and Dew lets him take it, but doesn’t look at him, instead staring resolutely at the sheets on the other side of Mountain, his hair falling forward to hide most of his face.

“Here. You try,” Mountain says after a moment. With his free hand, he holds Dew’s bass out to him. When he picks his head up, his hair still obscures half his face, but he reaches to take it.

His grasp remains hesitant until he has the bass settled across his lap, and then it’s like something clicks into place, his hands settling on the bass like it’s another part of him. Something swells in Mountain’s chest as he watches Dew’s fingers dance on the fretboard, not playing yet, just going through the motions of fingering through a song, thumb tapping the top of the body in what would be his strum patterns.

Even through the semi-transparent curtain of his hair, Mountain can see the corners of his mouth lift, and the way his scent starts to sweeten the air is achingly familiar. Finally Dew reaches down and begins to strum and pluck at the strings, and Mountain already has the amp in his hand, a question in his eyes.

“Yeah, turn it up,” Dew says, corner of his mouth quirking up. Mountain’s chest goes warm at the sight of it, keeps staring at Dew, turning the dial up slowly while he strums until Dew nods. His gaze lingers before he turns his attention back to his bass. Mountain watches, enraptured, hearing the music as much as he’s feeling it in the vibrations in his chest, under his hand where it still rests on the amp. He picks it up, cradling it in both hands as he watches Dew play, fingers tapping against it with the rhythm of his own part.

When Dew finishes the song, he holds still for a long moment, head still bent over his bass. Mountain keeps the silence, unwilling to be the one to break it.

Without lifting his head, Dew says, “I didn’t think I’d be able to do that. Fuckin’...muscle memory shit.”

“Yeah,” Mountain agrees, shaking himself out of his trance. “It’s good.”

“Yeah. It is. I guess. Gonna have to learn lead now, so it’s just a waste of space.” He says it without inflection, but Mountain knows by the tension in his ears and along his shoulders that he’s upset.

“No,” Mountain murmurs. He scours his mind, searching for something that conveys what he wants to say, about how knowing the bass parts will help him on lead guitar, how experience isn’t a waste of space, but all he’s getting is the hazy impression of what he means. The words won’t come, so he just tips his head at Dew and says, “Show me?”

Dew’s eyes flick up to his, fathomless and dark. Wordlessly, he hands the bass over to Mountain, hands settling over his immediately. His hands tremble slightly, but Mountain pretends not to see, instead focusing on keeping his fingers where Dew puts them.

“There’s one,” he says softly, and adjusts Mountain’s fingers into a new position. “Two.”

“Three.”

“Four. First bar. You know the rhythm. One?”

Mountain watches Dew’s fingers leave his own, heart falling a little at the receding warmth of his touch, but dutifully he puts his fingers into the first position Dew had shown him.

“Good. Now…” Dew turns his attention to Mountain’s strumming hand, hanging limp against the thick strings. “First beat, strum here and here.”

Mountain plucks softly at the strings he indicates, already shifting his chord hand to the next note, waiting for Dew to show him the strumming pattern.

“Good. Here, here, and here.”

Mountain’s chest goes warm at the praise, his ears heating as he obediently follows what Dew shows him, much more haltingly, having to stop entirely to ensure his fingers are in the right position for the next note. He feels Dew’s eyes on him, hears him softly humming the next note or the next few beats of the melody while he’s busy placing his fingers one by one, and then checking that he’s strumming the correct strings. Still, he plays the bar Dew showed him over and over, pausing a little less each time, and when he finally gets it down and plays the whole bar without hesitation, Mountain lifts his head to flash a wide grin at Dew. He smiles back in return, far less reserved than he’d been so far, but it’s still a small smile. Mountain basks in the thrill of finally getting it down for a moment, then he glances down as he gently hands Dew his bass back.

Dew settles it in his lap, but doesn’t play it. Instead, he runs the pads of his fingers up and down the length of the strings on the fretboard, mouth slightly downturned in an expression that’s not sad, exactly, but more of a look of concentration of the mournful variety. Eventually, he begins to play, running through riffs and solos from various different songs, weaving a strange medley, bridging them together so seamlessly it takes Mountain a few to realize what he’s doing. As he listens closer and learns how Dew transitions between songs, he’s able to identify which section of each song he plays. And then he realizes–

“You’re playing through the setlist,” Mountain says suddenly, but despite the twitch of Dew’s ear towards him, he seems not to have heard. Dew continues playing through the rest of the setlist, and only once the last fading note dies out does he lift his head and fix Mountain with a quiet gaze.

“Was I? Didn’t notice,” Dew mutters. A second later he huffs a breath and his eyes roll briefly and, more sincerely this time, he adds: “Yeah. I know. Figured it out four songs in.”

The sarcasm stings. Mountain holds Dew’s gaze until he feels he can trust his voice not to waver. “You remember?”

Dew shrugs one shoulder, a slight movement. “Dunno. Not really. I can vaguely picture the rehearsal room. Other than that I just…knew I was going through the setlist. Must be something I did a lot, play through the melodies and solos of each song.”

Tension leeches out of Mountain’s body as Dew talks. Reassuring him without admitting that’s what he’s doing. Telling him the sarcasm was only reflex, that he has no ire for Mountain. He nods, rumbling an affirmative sound because he doesn’t know what else to say.

#dorito.txt #ignore the. bracket stuff. havent decided on those parts yet lol #dorito snips #dorito writes #amnesia fic #a mess is still worthy of love

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twinclownsoflotuspiers · 1 year

Text

Forgetting AU | angst , happy end, WIP (will build in more detail in the future)

His 3rd shidi and 2nd shimei who had a habit of reading all the new books on love and lore that the peddlers sold in Yunmeng market, were talking about diseases for a change that day. To be more precise, Wei Wuxian walked in on 2nd shimei sobbing like the world was ending and 3rd shidi in a despair trying his best to comfort her.

"Aiya, Shidi what did you do to make her cry this hard?" Of course Wei Wuxian poked his nose because he was curious that way. "You know good gentlemen never make maidens cry!"

"I did nothing, Da-shixiong!" 3rd Shidi insisted sounding offended. "She got upset reading about the forgetting disease because she thought she would forget me!"

"The forgetting disease?" Intrigue sparked, Wei Wuxian reached out for the abandoned booklet even as his juniors bickered and read through the page that had it's corners blotted from the tears 2nd Shimei had shed.

`A disease where one would forget every little thing about the one they love if the love is not returned. If the love is requited before every thread of memory is lost, the person's memories could come back. If the love is requited only once every single thread has been forgotten, it would not make a difference.`

"Goodness, the things kids read these days!" Wei Wuxian laughed and set aside the book to console his juniors and solve the fight.

Despite his initial dismissal, Wei Wuxian couldn't stop thinking about the little booklet and its passage on that strange disease. As with everything, he asked Jiang Cheng about his opinion and merely received an answer in the form of a characteristic scoff. "Since when have you begun indulging in children's fairytales again? Quit wasting time, mom's mad at you for missing training!"

"Crap!" Wei Wuxian exclaimed. "Help me hide! Please A-Cheng!"

The booklet and it's disease was pushed to the back of the mind for the day and more to come.

And then it happened. It started with the smallest of things that could be easily dismissed for the usual lapse in memory and Wei Wuxian didn't suspect anything out of the ordinary.

"Ohh! You have a funny freckle on the bridge of your nose!" He cackled one day, poking at the mentioned element and Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Didn't you tease me with it like three years ago already?? Why are you acting like you're noticing it only now?"

That made Wei Wuxian's finger twitch. "Have I though?"

"You really need to do something about your memory!" Jiang Cheng shoved him good heartedly before walking away. "It's getting worse! Last time you even forgot I like my lotus seeds toasted!"

A brief flash of discomfort went through him but Wei Wuxian dismissed it and ran after Jiang Cheng to sling an arm around his shoulders again. "Aiya, spare me! You know how these little things slip from my mind sometimes! Why are you so harsh? Be nicer to me Chengcheng!"

"You wish!" _____ Wei Wuxian didn't remember if Jiang Cheng was good with dogs. He watched, from the top of the tree in some amount of awe as Jiang Cheng easily shooed away that hulking monster of a dog and then called to him to come down.

"Thanks!" He chirped as he jumped down the tree. "That was awesome! Since when were you so good at dealing with dogs?"

Jiang Cheng gave him the strangest look, perhaps with a tinge of pain. Maybe anger. "Wei Wuxian what the fuck are you talking about?"

Wei Wuxian stopped then, suddenly bothered. Something felt wrong. He began questioning if this memory loss was really his usual bad memory acting up?

There was....a history between him and Jiang Cheng related to dogs, right? An important one. So....how had he--

He sought out 2nd Shimei and borrowed her book. After he was done reading it, he went out to feverishly buy every other book he could find on the subject. There was a part of him that + couldn't believe he was in love with Jiang Cheng. What was being in love supposed to be even like? But now....the signs were there right? And the terror of forgetting bit by bit every day became a part of him, killing the cheerful child in him early on.

He could not forget.

He refused to forget. Wei Wuxian would figure something out.

(He refused to think of the sting that went through him at the knowledge that he loved Jiang Cheng and Jiang Cheng didn't love him back. It shouldn't have been surprising yet it still....)

Come Gusu, he trailed after Lan Wangji, finding something about the man familiar to someone he didn't know how to put a name on. And when Nie Huaisang whined to him (perhaps with a silent indirect reprimand too) about him spending too little time with him and Jiang-xiong, Wei Wuxian was initially left confused on whether Jiang Cheng and him had ever been friends at all before being thunderstruck by remembrance and horror.

"Lan Zhan, I need to ask for a favour," Wei Wuxian's tone was grave that day as he talked to the 2nd Jade. Lan Wangji turned to him in + full attention, having noticed the unusual gravity. "Does the Library Pavilion have any books on diseases or afflictions close to diseases?"

"The Forbidden Section may have some," Lan Wangji answered, eyebrows furrowed. It was a strange question to ask no doubt. "However it is open to only the members of Gusu Lan. I cannot take you there."

"Please? Just this one time?" Perhaps Wei Wuxian was desperate enough to beg. Perhaps Lan Wangji saw the urgency and the ice in his eyes melted a little. "It's important and I don't think I have time to waste"

"I cannot take you there," Lan Wangji repeated slowly and Wei Wuxian felt his heart burst in irrational anger. He almost retorted with something scathing before Lan Wangji continued speaking. "But if it is truly of such importance, I can bring back some books." _____

Wei Wuxian took to writing down all the precious memories he still had with his Jiang Cheng before he forgot them all. Alongside, he wrote his first research papers, trying to find a solution to reverse the curse because every book he'd read offered none.

He wouldn't forget.

He would force himself to remember.

Lotus Pier burnt.

Jiang Cheng lost his core and the righteous fury Wei Wuxian felt was something he clung to. His love for his shidi would burn bright through his anger if not his memories. Wei Wuxian gave away his core and soothed himself saying that it was a good decision. If....someday he forgot Jiang Cheng completely then his core would still remember.

The war raged on. Wei Wuxian came back, a specter of his old self, the only memories of Jiang Cheng still in him that of the person's name and looks+ and the fact that he loved him. He no longer remembered the childhood they had once shared.

And as the war continued...Wei Wuxian forgot he'd been fighting for Jiang Cheng and fought instead merely for the war to end.

The papers gathered dust, writings lessening with every day. Memories were ashes to the wind and the wind blew them away from Wei Wuxian's direction.

He grew irritable, bad tempered - especially when his Sect Leader continued to reprimand him in a tone that set them as familiar before Wei Wuxian would lash back and cause hurt to line the man's eyes. In some days, his memory of who Jiang Cheng truly was to him would return in patches and Wei Wuxian would wallow in deep regret for hurting the man over and over again. In other days, he would remember nothing - galivanting around with false bravado and an emptiness in his heart he could never explain.

When he confronted Jin Guangshan and Jin Zixun for the location of the Wens and they accused him for not respecting Jiang Cheng’s authority enough, Wei Wuxian felt genuine confusion when he turned to ask who that was and they responded with incredulous looks. He left with his heart tied in a complicated knot of shame and frustration as his memory of who Jiang Cheng was flickered once again.

He decided to defect. The way he was already, with his memory more gone than intact, he would only cause trouble for Jiang Cheng and the sect. His decision made sense to him and yet Jiang Cheng screamed and yelled at him for it. They fought, stabbed, cursed and finally broke all ties. Jiang Cheng left with tears swimming in his eyes and Wei Wuxian cried when Wen Qing fixed his wound.

"I'm forgetting him," he sobbed out loud for perhaps the first ever time. "I'm forgetting him, Wen Qing, I don't want to! I don't want to!"

But forget he did, and by the time he'd offended and killed enough people for the world to finally decree that they couldn't let him live anymore, Wei Wuxian no longer remembered who Jiang Cheng was. He no longer remembered what happiness spending in the Jiang family had been like and he no longer remembered he'd damned himself to this Fate all out of love.

Before the siege burnt everything to the ground, and before the Qi deviation took him, Wei Wuxian heard footsteps echo into his cave and gathered the last strands of resentful energy even if it accelerated his deviation to send it in a strike. A strangely familiar sword glare intercepted it and a man in purple walked in - a haggard and broken look gracing his otherwise regal figure.

"Do you really hate me this much, Wei Wuxian?" his voice was hoarse "That not only you walked away, broke all contact and killed my A-Jie but you also pretend that you don't know me? What have I done to you to warrant treatment like this?"

"Have we met before?" Wei Wuxian asked softly, too tired to feel anything but the inexplicable pain that filled the hollow of his chest at the sight of the man. "I've not seen your face before so they must've gathered new sects for the siege."

The man closed his eyes and shuddered. "Wei Wuxian," his voice shook as he took the name and much to Wei Wuxian's surprise, tears spilled from his eyes. "Do you truly not remember me?"

"I'm sorry," Wei Wuxian felt the pain in his chest grow. They were....supposed to be enemies and yet the man wasn't making a move to attack. Instead he stood with clenched fists and pure brokenness written in his features, like Wei Wuxian had taken a cudgel and smashed his heart to pieces. "Were we acquaintances?"

The man scoffed which turned into a sob. "I no longer know what I was to you."

"Were you the one I loved then?" Wei Wuxian asked suddenly and made the man lift his head in shock. He couldn't exactly call it memory but...the pain in his chest felt familiar. "If...if you were then it might explain why I forgot."

"What do you mean?"

"My first research papers. I came across them while destroying the...rest of it," Wei Wuxian said, talking more to himself than his companion. "They weren't about any cultivation techniques but about some forgetting disease. I was so confused when I found them. But I guess I always knew I was about to forget and wanted to change it. Pity it's still incomplete."

He didn't pay attention to the man in front of him as he spoke and hence failed to notice the spark of recognition that went through his eyes. Like he remembered something Wei Wuxian didn't.

"What's your name?" Wei Wuxian asked all of a sudden, making the other man jolt and then tear up some more.

"Jiang Cheng," he choked out.

And as Wei Wuxian tried repeating the name, he realized it did feel familiar on his tongue. His lips lifted into a regretful smile. "I guess it's just one of those many tales where someone loved a person and it wasn't mutual, instead it also ended up making me forget."

It was a simple straightforward sentence and yet the man, Jiang Cheng flinched like he'd been slapped.

"That's not true!" He cried out, red rimmed eyes blazing in desperation and regret. "That's not true! Even I..."

"Jiang Cheng," Wei Wuxian called, liking the name on his tongue. His heart still felt empty but he felt like maybe he could try one final time to smile. "The barriers around here have been broken so the siege force has finally reached me. I'll have to summon more corpses."

Jiang Cheng clutched on his sword and glared fiercely. "I'm taking you back with me."

Wei Wuxian shook his head still with the soft smile and held out his hand. With a sudden blast he sent the other man flying back and then threw a barrier talisman between them. "You can't save me."

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Jiang Cheng roared desperately as his fist pounded against the invisible barrier. "Wei Wuxian, let me in!"

"I'm Qi deviating," Wei Wuxian declared instead. He formed a hand seal for a final time with tears in his eyes. "And I don't want to hurt you."

He closed his eyes to the screaming man, ignoring the tears and pain in his heart. "Jiang Cheng....I'm sorry."

There was a flash of blinding light and then eternal+ darkness. With the memories and body dispersed, only his proof of love and the one he loved remained. ________

It felt like forever, floating in a confusing loop of dreams and nightmares, unaware of space and time. And then Wei Wuxian opened his eyes to life again. _________

He expected to have stayed dead and shunned by the world, not be given an unexpected second leash AND a new mystery to solve. Which had led him to Dafan Shan. Which then led him to beefing with a stuck up Jin teenager against his wishes.

"I'm his uncle, any last words?"

The voice sounded strangely familiar and when Wei Wuxian turned to face who had spoken, he knew why.

"Oh, it's you," he couldn't help but blurt out. It wasn't a good idea to let his true identity be known to people from his past, Wei Wuxian knew that objectively. But he remembered how this man had been the last one to weep for him before he'd died. Made quite an impression on him, really. Somehow that made Wei Wuxian not afraid of him. "Well, what do you know? It's a relief to see at least one face who wouldn't want to kill me...I hope."

The man's eye twitched. "I'm sorry?"

"Ah, no, I should be the one sorry," Wei Wuxian said sheepishly, suddenly embarrassed. "I assumed you'd remember me but I'd forgotten my body is no longer the same now. Oh wow, now I really do sound like a lunatic."

"Jiujiu, what's wrong with him?" Jin Ling couldn't help but exclaim but his uncle paid no attention, instead opting to stare at Wei Wuxian intensely.

"Who exactly are you?"

"Aiya, it doesn't matter," Wei Wuxian waved his hand and gave a bow. "If this is your nephew, I apologize for fighting with him. I merely acted out of self defence and really mean no harm."

"You-- you destroyed my nets!"

"Well, you had PEOPLE trapped in them."

"Jin Ling, shut up for once," the man snapped and then turned to Wei Wuxian again. "Do you....know who I am?"

"Well, I can't say I remember everything," Wei Wuxian's lips twitched in a sad smile. "But you're Jiang Cheng, aren't you?"

When the man didn't respond, for the most fearful moment Wei Wuxian thought he'd perhaps mistaken him for someone else. Hastily, he bowed and turned to go. "Actually, never mind, I should--"

"Are you.....are you Wei Wuxian?"

Wei Wuxian stopped at that, strange relief flooding his heart. He hadn't known how scared he was, for some reason, that this man had forgotten him. He let out a laugh of forced cheer. "Well, now! You do remember! Wait but you can't tell it to anyone else though. It seems people still want to kill me so I go by Mo Xuanyu now-- oof!"

Jiang Cheng had suddenly rushed forward and hugged him, making him almost stumble and fall. Wei Wuxian's eyes widened as the man shuddered even through the embrace. "You....you remembered me. You remembered my name...."

"Regretfully, I remember only that day," Wei Wuxian felt his heart soften as he awkwardly patted the other on his back. "But yeah.....I haven't forgotten your name."

"That's enough," Jiang Cheng’s voice shook. "That's....that's more than enough. I've been...I've been wanting to talk to you. Tell you I'm sorry....and please come back."

"Well! You don't need to apologize! I don't remember any of your wrongdoings hahaha!" Wei Wuxian laughed and finally hugged back. His eyes stung for the strangest reason and his chest felt full despite the pain. "Really....you don't have to apologize."

Jiang Cheng shook his head, unable to speak, and just clung on to him. It made Wei Wuxian fond in a way that seemed old - familiar.

"Hey," he began, hesitantly, heart+ thudding and leaping like he was about to take a dive. "You're the one I've loved....right?"

Jiang Cheng’s hug tightened even as he took a shaky breath. After a bout of hesitation, his tear-choked soft voice reached Wei Wuxian’s ears. "Can you.....can you love me again?"

"Yeah," the answer fell out so naturally that Wei Wuxian couldn't even question it. His eyes burned and tears fell at the same time his lips rose in a smile. He was sure now, so sure for someone who didn't remember. This was the man he'd once loved. This was the man he would love again. "Yeah...yeah, I think...I think I can."

End.

#chengxian #xiancheng #this is fucking long #amnesia fic #of sorts #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #mdzs #i'm frankly proud of this one #and I will build on it more

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