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vocesincaput · 6 months

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OPEN STARTER: Izzy Hands

Each and every night for over a week, a seagull would land upon the makeshift at the head of a grave. Until one night, the top layer of earth began to shift, the disturbance in the soil growing more and more until fingers could be seen clawing out.

Frantic fingers became hands, became arms until finally the mans face appeared with gasps for air. Coughing up dirt that had filled lungs and nose as he dragged himself out from beneath the ground to lay sprawled out on the ground beside where his body had once led.

Both arms and both legs tired and pained from the chore of digging himself out from a grave.

Confused, delirious and in a panicked state, the man crawled along the ground until managing to make his way up onto his feet and looked around with unfocused and bleary eyes. Fingers pushing through his hair and clasping at his head, the man stumbled away and into the woods.

No sense of what had happened, where he was going or who he had been.

Word had spread throughout the pirates of the death of the legendary Izzy Hands.

So when the man was found stumbling around with no memory of who he was or what had happened to him before he had had to dig himself out from the ground, no one suspected that he was the great First Mate.

The group of men that came upon him saw the benefit of having someone with a completely blank slate that they hoped they could mould into someone to work hard. Someone they hoped they could control. And so they had acted like they took pity upon the man, offering to take him with them, give him a place amongst them. A home. To which he, with no other option, agreed.

Time passed and the man became an almost integral part of the crew. Working hard and gradually being seen as more than someone they could manipulate.

Though the Captain still saw him as something to be controlled. As leverage against others...

One day, the ship docked in what remained of The Republic Of Pirates and the man exited with instructions to gather supplies before returning to the ship. Orders from the Captain to not talk to anyone who he wasn't purchasing things from.

And so the man was walking through the streets of the Republic Of Pirates. With his hair cut short and beard grown long, dressed in the same clothing as the rest of the crew and with two legs... no one looked at him twice.

No one showed any recognition, not even to his easily recognisable voice.

The man had almost purchased all the needed supplies, some in the bag over his shoulder and some sent straight to the ship, when he felt eyes upon him. Shaking it off, he started to head back towards the docks.

Not knowing the voice he heard was calling him....

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kaesaaurelia · 6 months

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trembling with the beauty of the word

For @whumptober day 28, using the prompts "bloody knife," "sacrifice," and "you'll have to go through me."

This is the last installment of this fic.

Continued from Day 3, wherein Muriel went to Heaven to get access to their old records, from before they can remember things, and discovered some troubling things written in their own handwriting, and Day 12, wherein Muriel discovered some troubling things they'd written (implied to be after the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah) which were used as evidence against them in the trial where their memories were erased.

Content warning for attempted child murder.

After trying and failing to read their own strikeouts for a bit -- no miraculous restoration seemed to help -- Muriel moved on from that exhibit and kept going.

There were more entries from their journal there. One exhibit was a List of Collaborators, which was apparently a bad thing. They seemed to be angels, mostly, although a couple of the names looked human. What had Muriel done? Who had they got in trouble?

They flipped back to the front of the filing and read, but none of it made sense. It said they were intentionally sowing Doubt and these people were helping them, but Muriel didn't see anything to that effect in their writing, and they knew they wouldn't just lie about that sort of thing. Apparently everybody on the list had had their memories corrected, so at least any mistakes they had made weren't permanent, but they felt guilt clawing at the center of their being anyway.

There was also mention of a Prior Incident wherein they had (allegedly -- although of course, if Heaven alleged it, it was true) knowingly defied the will of the Lord, and they flipped back through the exhibits to see if they could find that, because that sounded dreadful and they couldn't imagine doing that, but it wasn't attached.

Was there an earlier filing? They decided to ignore the Petition to Recall Angel from Earth for now since it seemed to be based on some sort of mistaken reading of something, and flipped through the earlier parts of the folder. There was a handwritten note from someone -- one of the humans on the list, by the looks of the signature, who'd been some sort of scholar or student or something.

Muriel began reading it, because, after all, it was addressed to them! Only a few lines in, they realized that this was a very... human... piece of writing, and decided to pretend it didn't exist. Had Old Bad Angel Muriel kept this? And not burned it? They were surprised it wasn't an exhibit as evidence of... well, it seemed awfully damning.

They kept going, though they didn't know what they were looking for. They found what appeared to be a shaky drawing in charcoal on the back of a blank report form. On one side of the picture there was a regular-size human, scowling, and brandishing a big... axe, maybe? and then a drawing of an angel (they could tell because of the wings, and the squiggly lines surrounding them, and the flying) clutching some kind of indistinct four-legged creature that seemed to be made mostly of swirls. The angel was smiling. On the other side of the angel was a small human, who looked very sad.

Something about this gave them that punched-in-the-stomach feeling again and they didn't know why, so they moved on.

And here was an incident report, once more written in their own hand. They winced, because this was going to be bad, but they were going to have to read it. They had to know.

As you are no doubt aware, amending humans' memories requires endorsements from the humans' attending Principalities, guardian angels, etc., for each individual human, all to be approved by the Office of Faith and Good Works. This process must be done for every single human whose memory is to be changed.

The Office of Faith and Good Works is currently dealing with a three century backlog while they sort through the 478 proposed Commandments. I believe they're trying to narrow it down something between one to three Commandments, as human memory unfortunately cannot retain 478 of them. I imagine it will take them quite a while.

I now continue my report, having hopefully established to your satisfaction that memory correction is not currently a practical option under the circumstances.

This seemed wildly irrelevant, and Muriel judged their old self once more for being inexplicably inefficient, although maybe they were making a point about how bad that policy was. It had definitely been changed, although Muriel couldn't recall when, so probably not very much after this incident. They read on.

My understanding of the mission was that it was to test and strengthen Abraham's faith in God, and I think in that sense it was a great success. However, I would strongly recommend against any further attempts to test humans' faith with child sacrifice, and I am so confident that you will understand my reasoning that I have gone ahead and told them that the Lord would never require such sacrifices. I was very clear on this. I told Abraham to tell everyone else he knew about this, because my experiences on Earth suggest that child welfare is one of humans' greatest motivators. I think it would be particularly good for our optics to be known as the faith option with a guarantee of no child sacrifice, and by now there should be several hundred humans who are aware of this policy, which I maintain can reasonably be inferred to be in line with current Heavenly policy from the following materials:

There followed a lengthy list of citations. Muriel was not familiar with most of them, but they looked real enough. Perhaps they were no longer relevant due to changes in policy since this incident. But the whole thing seemed horribly clear to Muriel. They had decided, without consulting Heaven, to claim something was policy and then make it impossible for Heaven to take back without undue strain on the bureaucracy.

On the other hand, Old Bad Angel Muriel was right; humans were very keen on child welfare. It was a whole thing with them.

They skimmed the rest of the report -- Old Bad Angel Muriel explained that it had been an alarming amount of work to convince Abraham that he had to kill his son, and that, as they had used up all their miracle allotment on Abraham, there had been none left for the child's mother, who had punched Muriel. Punching is something humans do when they're very angry. It can be very painful for everyone involved, they added, and I would suggest that this and other common acts of aggression be added to the standard curriculum for Earth agents. (It had been, although Muriel hadn't had time to actually go through that. They had happened to read about it when it was entered into the code at some point after the Flood.)

There then followed a lengthy account of purchasing the ram and getting the ram up the mountain without being seen, which seemed largely unnecessary except that Old Bad Angel Muriel was asking for the money for the ram back. They admitted they had been overcharged, but they pointed out that they did not have enough time to haggle, and that 52 of the proposed Commandments had to do with not stealing, so it seemed like a bad idea to steal the ram. (Muriel had to admit this was a good point.)

At the end, there were no less than three pages about the boy, Isaac. Old Bad Angel Muriel had described his character and personality, what his favorite color was, what he thought of every member of his family down to the dogs, what every member of his family thought of him (excepting anyone who couldn't talk, such as the dogs), and what he wanted to do when he grew up. He said he wanted to be an angel because he wants to be able to fly, but I told him that unfortunately Heaven is not hiring, so he's considering his options. It was... irrelevant, Muriel knew, but it was a portrait in writing of a human, a person who was irreplaceable and individual.

The last sentence was I will not be taking further actions that cause humans to attempt to harm children. No at this time, no until further notice, no unless you confirm it with the relevant committees. No justification or explanation.

Muriel closed the folder, because it was making them feel unpleasant things, Bad Angel things, and it suddenly occurred to them that perhaps Crowley needed help finding the thing he had forgot, which he was looking for, and which definitely existed. If they were helping someone they couldn't be a Bad Angel. Although perhaps because he was a demon, that wasn't true. But he was a Good Demon, so, therefore...

Well, all right, no, that was a nonsensical line of reasoning, but they still didn't want to look at the folder anymore.

So they got up to go and find him. "Crowley?" they called.

The bookshop wasn't actually all that large, but it was surprisingly easy to get lost in, Muriel reflected, some time later. Perhaps there was more of it than they'd realized. Perhaps the books all got together in secret while they were out, up on Heaven retrieving files they shouldn't be retrieving. Perhaps Muriel really was inexplicably going in a circle, and the room they thought was behind those shelves wasn't there, and instead it was just a really long corridor of nearly identical bookshelves.

Or, also, perhaps demons had ways of hiding themselves in bookshops they knew extremely well, from angels who were new to Earth and also to said bookshops.

Muriel sighed, snapped their fingers, and the endlessly repeating bookshelves dissolved, and there was the room they thought they were looking for. Crowley sat at a circular table. There was a dark glass bottle in front of him, and an empty drinking glass, one of those miniature ones that didn't seem to hold enough liquid to be worth it.

He did not look very happy, but Muriel was glad of the company anyway.

"Did you find your thing that you forgot?" Muriel asked.

"No," said Crowley, sounding mournful. "Nope. 'Snot here."

"I thought you said it definitely was?"

"Mm." He put his head in his hands.

"Why were you hiding?" they asked.

"Didn't want to be bothered," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh," said Muriel, feeling unaccountably guilty.

"By you," he added.

"Oh," Muriel said again, supposing that accounted for the guilt. "Am I... bothering you?" they asked.

Crowley looked at them for a long moment. He seemed very sad. Finally he said, "Nah. Come on. Sit down. Have a drink."

"No thank you," said Muriel, because things in dark glass bottles were alcohol, and were therefore sinful, and also smelled terrible.

"Did you find out what the nightmares were about?" he asked, pointing at the folder. Muriel had forgot they brought it with them.

"Erm. Not really," said Muriel. "I found out some other things."

"Oh?"

"They're all horrible," Muriel said. "I was definitely a very bad angel."

Crowley grinned. "Yeah? Did you forget to submit a form or something?"

"No, I. I made up something and told the humans it was God's new policy, and then I made sure Heaven couldn't contradict what I'd said without a lot of paperwork."

"You what?" Crowley's dark glasses slipped slightly down his face as he leaned forward.

"I did it on purpose, I think. Either that or Old Muriel was very stupid, and I don't think they were."

"What did you tell them?" Crowley asked. At least he was feeling cheerful now. Or spiteful. It was hard to tell.

"I told them God didn't want them to sacrifice children," said Muriel. "I think I thought it... was policy, somehow, even though it clearly wasn't. And I remember later, I remember there were things where... I mean. It wasn't God's policy. It... it would have been a good policy, though, if it had been," they said. "I remember there were... things God authorized... that weren't... I mean I didn't realize... it was..."

They recalled a long scroll unrolling before them, and the then-Principality, now-Supreme Archangel standing in front of them being a bit silly (they'd thought at the time) about human children not being easily replaceable. They hadn't met any humans back then.

They felt that punching feeling again. Maybe they had been punched in the stomach before. They hadn't specified in their report.

"I think I might still be a bad angel," they admitted to Crowley, in a very small voice.

"Yeah, maybe," said Crowley. "But like I said, all the best angels are bad angels. Any angel worth knowing, certainly."

"Also I think a human wrote me a love poem?" said Muriel. They had just remembered the child's drawing, realized it was probably Isaac's, and then, seeking refuge from the weight of this thought -- the child they had endangered with their miraculous vision and then saved with their overpriced ram had used some of his tiny human lifespan to make something for them, and Heaven had wiped him entirely from their mind until now -- their mind had sought refuge in the absurd.

"What?"

"I don't know, I didn't read it. I didn't read, er, much of it, anyway," said Muriel.

"Was it any good?"

"No! I mean, I don't know, I didn't read it," said Muriel, horrified.

"Can I see it?"

"No! You don't want to anyway, it was... surprisingly anatomical."

"Oh, yeah, humans do that," said Crowley, making a face. "I thought you didn't read it."

"I read enough of it to know I didn't want to," said Muriel. Crowley laughed at that. "What was the thing you came here to find, anyway?"

Crowley shrugged. "Dunno. I forgot."

"You forgot the thing you forgot?" Muriel asked.

"Yup. You're sure you don't want a drink?" Crowley asked.

"Maybe I'll just... look at it," said Muriel.

He produced another of the miniature glasses and poured from the bottle. It was a warm amber liquid. It smelled terrible, and as per usual, they did not taste it, but it looked all right.

While they were examining the drink, Crowley stole their folder. They let him; if he went looking for stupid poetry and ended up stumbling across a long-dead child's drawing instead and having too many feelings, that wasn't on Muriel, and he probably deserved it.

#whumptober2023 #no.28 #bloody knife #sacrifice #you'll have to go through me #good omens #fic #child abuse cw #child murder cw #memory loss cw #muriel good omens #anthony j crowley #abraham & isaac #sorry this one's late I had a lot of feelings about it!#fun fact this is the second fic I have written about that story #a lot of feelings!#(the first fic was not for good omens)

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flownintothesun · 5 months

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⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── for @wehavefoundthestars ; a new beginning

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐎 since his father’s regime had begun properly — Francis has felt as though he’s trapped in a snow globe or glassed in a cage like a poor animal at a zoo, something removed from his natural habitat to be gawked at and spoken about as though he doesn’t have ears. ‘Have you seen Henri Devereaux’s son?’ ‘Yes, I heard he’s studying at Oxford — International Relations and Politics.’ ‘Oh, he’s home for the holidays, and quite the looker too.’ His father adores the rumors, as much as his father is capable of adoring anything.

As for Francis — never in a million years would he have thought that the trajectory of his life would lead him here. He was always meant to have his beautiful, gentle mother to counteract the harshness of his father. He was always meant to have Valéry as well, to bring music into his world — a weapon greater than Excalibur to vanquish any darkness that his own light could not immediately, until only beauty remained. All that is left of his tutor is Francis’s precious violin, painted black. All that is left of his mother is her smiling face on the days that she remembers him — those days grow fewer and fewer. He’d never wanted to be Peter Pan — it’s only...he hadn’t thought that growing up would be quite so difficult. Or quite so lonely.

Since Valéry’s death, the music has been underwater — muffled by his snow globe prison, where once it had been vibrant and beautiful. He can read the notes, he can play the song — but he can’t hear the music. Music isn’t meant to be played technically — it is art, and every rendition of it should be different and speak to the individual musician — playing it without heart does a disservice to both composer and musician. If he could just reach out and seize the notes, maybe there would be something that belonged to him that his father couldn’t take away, not entirely.

He’s staring up at all of the holiday lights when he backs into someone, nearly sending them both into the unnaturally large cake his father had ordered for this gala. Francis read a book that started like that once. No matter. He reaches out, steadying the man he’d knocked into, looking at him with soft eyes steeped in apology. “I’m sorry, I was staring at the,” he gestures upward toward the lights — because words are rather hard when your heart has leapt to your throat. Probability of literally bumping into someone his own age is next to nothing at events like these, it would be a handsome stranger whose name he should know. He’s meant to know everyone’s name. “I’m er...Francis...Devereaux,” he says, his lips turning upward into a tender smile. Please say your name, please say your name...

#wehavefoundthestars #➤ 𝚠𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 ┊ elio & francis ➷ (𝟎𝟎𝟏.)#➤ 𝚅𝙸. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂 ┊ francis devereaux.#⋆ ⚓︎ ⋆ ── 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 ┊ 𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑.#death cw #death mention cw #illness cw #grief cw #memory loss cw

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ashtraysystem · 7 months

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uh major cw in this one, procede with extreme caution. anxiety spiraling about potential traumas and memory loss.

i feel like im sitting here overanalyzing this and looking for some sort of trauma to explain my life when i already have enough trauma and am valid but at the same time my brain refuses to hear that and searches for more trauma and to pinpoint exactly when i started having did but thats literally not possible to do.

im thinking about the fact that i used to refer to my dad's friend as my boyfriend, and how i was really grossly close to him, and im. im scared that theres something there ive forgotten. bc i dont have any specific memories with him. even with when ive seen him as an older human being, my brain doesn't /see/ him. like, i can see others in certain memories, like family friends and old friends, but his face just becomes a blur. i can recognize him when i see him, but if you were to ask me to tell you any of his features even after looking at a photo of him i couldn't tell you a thing.

like, with family friends i havent seen in a while i could describe them to you; their general physique, their hair, a unique trait they have, something, ya know? but with him, even after directly looking at a picture of the two of us together his face just. disappears.

i dunno, i might just be overanalyzing things and it might be fine. i might just be searching for problems, might just be searching for some sort of tangible trauma for myself. but it also makes me feel sick thinking about him. i dont. i dont know. im scared ive forgotten something.

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vinlynce · 2 years

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I think you could do some interesting stuff with the fact thatUltra Wormholes often (but not always) erase memories wholesale in the Warden E AU. Like, maybe Elesa/E has fewer surface memories than Ingo thanks to the head injury she received, but she still has most of her memories: they're just hazy and buried. On the other hand, Ingo can remember more, but most of the stuff he can't remember is just gone thanks to a very rough transit through Ultra Space. (That's my own theory.)

Getting it out of the way, I very much operate on the idea Ingo got ultrawormhole'd xD I have to as a certified Faller Enjoyer! We know different fallers can remember different amounts and areas of information (Look at Anabel vs Mohn, for example!) So I absolutely go off the idea that lingering wormhole energy effects every faller differently, such as....

Ingo has a lot of more photographic memory, and remembers what things looked like and such, along with muscle memory and sayings he used to say a lot! We know this for fact, but it doesn't hurt to re-state. And it seems his memory comes back pretty easy by just.... Talking about it, if the cave scene is anything to go off of. But there seems to be some blocking in memory. Elesa, or well, E, ended up Ironically enough being better with the names of stuff (Though that doesn't mean she has no image related memories, just less compared to Ingo)! Like she recognizes the arc-phone as a weird rotom-phone once she got a good look at it, and she knows the names of pokemon when they're described pretty easy! Along with, y'know, remembering Emmet's name but not who he was. She knows what Swanna are, and was actively confused as to why they looked different then what she did remember, same with Liligant and Braviary! She's still good at recognizing things, it just takes prompting... Even when it's awkwardly realizing people she sees remind her of people she knew.

Now you may be asking, June, who's the third figure?! And to that I reply, a surprise tool that will help us later! The mystery person is someone also displaced by space and time, who arguably remembers more compared to either Elesa OR Ingo. They have their pokemon still, and somewhat easy to grasp memory due to still being in modern day (Though, it's all foggy and thing aren't exactly as they remember). They're going off a concept I think about a lot when it comes to fallers, but if I say what that is it might spoil the surprise :p

#asks #warden e au #pokemon #memory loss cw

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solarflareanon · 1 year

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What if ghosts are Like That because they’re just like Extra Old People?

Like, they’re so old they’ve forgotten everything except their familiar routines in their familiar places and things like poltergeists are just ghosts trying to do the things they used to be able to do but getting confused or frustrated when they can’t. And the ghostly whispers you hear from them are really just them mumbling to themself because they assume no one can hear them because they’re also hard of hearing?

#ghosts #just a thought #memory loss cw #not to get melancholy #but sometimes my 99 year old Bedstemor exhibits ghostlike behaviors #wispy songs she'll sing to herself as she moves slowly through the house #creaking over every floorboard #warbley mutterings from down the hall #clattering around the kitchen as she tries to do the chores she used to be able to do

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hasmephydoneanythingwrong · 1 year

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Scenes From An Event I Will Never Write Part 4: “The Holy Grail War of Romance and Usurpation”

“You… you DEGENERATES! Do you have ANY idea what I’ve been through to GET to this point!?!”

“I think you’re the only degenerate here…”

“No… no, you DON’T know!! Because YOU!! Always get!! To WIN!!! You’re HEROES!! And I… am nothing…”

“Now, Master, what happened to being the level-headed of us two~?”

“Wha…?”

> ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️

> “You didn’t go back to Chaldea?”

“Why would I have~? Yu Mei-Ren didn’t, did she~?”

“But that’s because…”

“…!”

“You came here on your own?!”

“Wait, really!? I thought you were… a walking memory…”

“Hey, if a minute Singularity pops up, and someone as interesting as Bryndhildr goes missing, obviously someone’s going to connect the dots~! And it seems my suspicions were correct! This has been one hell of a time~.”

“Wait, you enjoyed it…? But… but I made you fight… THEM!! I mean, if you were a memory, that’d make sense, but they… they CARE about you! They know ‘you’ personally!”

“…”

“You really didn’t know?”

“Did you honestly believe I would just sit back and watch the fun if I didn’t remember?”

“What…?”

“Wait… you knew who this person was the entire time?!”

> Well, that explains why you just called them “Master…”

“Yes, it seems the Throne… ‘buries’ memories sometimes~.”

“I see… so the Singularity itself helped you remember.”

“The Singularity did nothing~.”

“I remembered because of you!”

#Sky Rob don’t look #Orb Rob don’t look #kids don’t look #s/dl #Mami don’t look #not safe for Zach #ask to tag #Consort Yu #Brynhildr #Guda #writing #my writing #fanfiction #my posts #text post #violence mention CW #memory loss CW

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dabunnybuns · 8 months

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I’ve been workshopping this horror idea of like a monster that makes you forget right

But like not The Silence or False Hydra

Like it makes you forget

Like imagine the horror or realizing something is really wrong, running to your car, and realizing you no longer remember how to drive

For some reason your walks seem so much shorter

If you even remember how to walk

Or talk

#horror #memory #my writing #bunnybuns #memory loss cw #loss of autonomy #horror tw

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2hufacts · 10 months

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I'm fascinating by the idea of immortal beings going through a kind of "reverse dementia". Essentially, after living for thousands of years, hitting the upper limit on the number of neural connections the brain can have, and their minds just sort of stop functioning.

#ik the neuroscience of this isn't properly grounded but w/e #dementia cw #memory loss cw

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alteredcanon · 1 year

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V; Not Quite Tahiti

[character death CW, resurrection cw, amnesia cw, memory loss cw, drug use cw, drug dependency cw]

Natasha Romanoff died about how she expected, going down in a hail of bullets. But that was the beginning of this story...

Killed by Ultron in Sokovia, after her body was recovered, she was put on ice. The world mourns, and she was quietly revived by SHIELD in a process similar to Project T.A.H.I.T.I. Utilizing the Rejuvenation Cradle technology developed by Helen Cho, and the knowledge given to Cho by Ultron, Natasha was quietly brought back from the dead.

The process was complicated and prolonged but at the end Natasha was alive. She was just not always Natasha. Her mind slipped and slid between cover identities and reality. The damage was considered irreparable. The solution was to rewrite Natasha's reality to give her the life that she deserved to have, and let her go free.

Nicole Abigail Robinson had a pretty good life. She used to be a ballerina, but an injury kept her from becoming a professional dancer. She'd been an army brat, always moving from place to place, so she had been happy to put down roots in a small town in rural Texas. She spent her days working the front desk for a small realtor company, and she enjoyed the job. It was a lot of answering the phones and greeting clients, but she liked her boss, who reminded her a little of her mother. It was a good life.

Unfortunately, it didn't last. Natasha, after all, was famous for taking down SHIELD, and she had more than a few enemies who wouldn't believe she was dead unless they killed her themselves. Vasily Karpov caught wind of the infamous Widow, and decided to use her for his own ends. Several of his agents captured her and brought her to his secret hideout where he quickly determined that this version of Natasha was not of use to him and cast her aside.

Natasha doesn't remember what exactly happened in the aftermath of this decision. Her next conscious memory was neither Nicole nor Natasha but something in between as she fought her way through a handful of soldiers and made her escape from Karpov's men.

Unaware that the Avengers and SHIELD thought she was dead, Natasha made her way to New York where it was discovered that she was alive and that Karpov's men had exposed her to a nootropic drug that allowed her mind to access her fractured memories. Unfortunately as the drug faded from her system, Natasha could feel herself slipping back into Nicole's life. It seemed that she could only remember her true identity while under the effects of the drug called VLK.

Nicole can't go back to the life she had before, she's clearly not safe, and Natasha can't remain in control of her own body without the drug in her system. What is a Widow to do?

#OOC ∞ VERSE INFO #V; Not Quite Tahiti #character death CW #resurrection cw #amnesia cw #memory loss cw #drug use cw #drug dependency cw

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vocesincaput-arc · 8 months

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“I’m here- I’m here, now” - Crowley to Aziraphale [or my Aziraphale to your Crowley up to you <3]

My muse had been kidnapped and tortured for the past week send “I’m here- I’m here, now” for your muse to save them. [x]

It would have been obvious to Aziraphale that Heaven wasn't being honest about making him Supreme Archangel for the reasons they gave but Metatron had done something to him with the coffee which had been infused with a powerful miracle. The angel was heavly influenced by Metatron's suggestions in their mind as he spoke to Crowley.

Once they were up in Heaven, the influence over Aziraphale began to slip. He began to ask questions before hands were placed upon his shoulders and they were forced to their knees. The angel began to practically demand an answer to what was happening when Metatron placed his hand upon Aziraphales head. Causing it to tilt back as his eyes glowed a shining white. The process to change his being into what they wanted began.

Sometime later, he awoke in small empty room with white walls and no lighting. As he looked slowly around the tiny space, his eyes widened when he realised that there were no thoughts in his mind beyond the small room. No memories of who or what they were. As the panic set in, he shuffled around the room (not able to stand in the small space) and tried to find an exit. Hands shaking whilst they tried to find something, anything, beyond the small, dark space.

Breathing came quick as he pulled himself back into one of the corners, knees up against their chest. They had no idea how long they were in the room, dozing in and out of restless sleep before suddenly being awoken by a sound.

Someone had entered the room and was speaking to him.

Someone who he didn't know.

"Wh-whoever you are, please... please leave me alone!" he cried whilst trying to back further into the corner.

#ic #muse: aziraphale #wayfaringstrangxr #wayfaringstrangxr: aziraphale #wayfaringstrangxr (crowley)#//adapted to fit our idea :)#hope it's alright #memory loss tw #tw: memory loss #memory loss cw #tw memory loss

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vocesincaput · 6 months

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Headcanon: Izzy Hands (Memory Loss)

His new Captain is Ned Low who managed to survive Stede's knocking him from the ship.

He got a new crew together and vowed to get revenge on Stede, Ed & the rest of the crew.

The perfect opportunity fell into his lap when it was he and his crew who found Izzy wandering around with no memory.

Ned knows exactly who Izzy really is.

He has gotten his hooks into Izzy, manipulating him to be easy for him to control. Using him.

Ready for when he encounters the crew of the Revenge.

Izzy has no idea of just how under Neds control he is.

#headcanon: izzy hands #verse: izzy hands : memory loss #cw memory loss #memory loss tw #memory loss cw #amnesia cw #tw: amnesia #non rp blogs do not interact #non rp blogs dni #non rp blogs will be blocked

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angstywuffle · 1 year

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You ever break a plate and try to put the pieces back together and somehow one is missing?

We had a conversation yesterday.

"Mmmph mmphh," you said.

"Mpphhmmmhhm," I replied.

And we went back and forth like this.

No.

Wait.

That's.

That's not right.

What?

What did we say?

It was...

It was about...

Ah!

It was about a-

fuck.

A doctor's appointment?

No.

Wait.

Yes.

A psychiatrist appointment.

When is that?

When when when when.

Fuck.

Fuck please help.

Please god please I can't remember it.

I can't remember anything!

It hurts so fucking bad.

It's just out of reach and stretching for it hurts.

Help me please.

Please!

PLEASE!

Please.

Please...

Please I can't...

I can't remember.

What was it?

It was important.

Something was supposed to happen today.

I thought...

Huh.

I don't know what I was trying to think about.

Funny how brains work like that.

So quirky.

#poetry #memory loss #memory loss cw

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flownintothesun · 6 months

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𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄-𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃 & 𝐒𝐀𝐃 :

Content Warnings for mentions of NPC death ; early-onset Alzheimer's, memory loss.

At the age of sixteen — two years after his mother was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s, and about a year before his violin tutor (and mother’s employer) Valéry died — Francis, with Valéry‘s help, was cast as none other than (the) William Shakespeare in a small local theater group’s production of Something Rotten! (Shh, is this possible, probably not, is it fiction, yes! Also, lest we forget — Francis’s very first love was the bard.)

To hide the news and production from Henri (Francis’s father), Valéry changed Francis’s ‘tutoring’ schedule and the four of them (Francis, Valéry, Valéry‘s husband Michel, and Francis’s maman, on her good days) kept the whole thing a secret, managing to sneak him around to most rehearsals. This is one of the crowning moments of Francis’s entire life — not because he slayed the role (he did, tight pants and all) or even because it was one of the increasingly rare times he was truly and authentically himself — but because his real ‘family’ was there opening night with so many flowers, cheering loudly as though it was a big-name production. It was one of the last big hurrahs with his mother before she was moved into a care facility with her condition gradually deteriorating, and before Valéry‘s condition took a turn. There was nothing in the world that could stop them on that night, it was well and truly a happily ever after.

His mother gave him kisses and told him how proud she was, how proud the Bard himself would be, and Valéry had spoken to him about queerness and identity following that, a glass of champagne in hand. Francis had felt so seen, and utterly loved at every level.

To this day, Francis has kept that memory close to his heart, and a secret for all of these years. He keeps a photograph of his ‘family’ in one of his books — The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. While most of Francis’s books are in pristine condition — this one is well loved, and so is the concealed picture of him in his costume, glowing like the sun alongside his loved ones.

(by the way ; here’s the role.)

#➤ 𝚅𝙸. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂 ┊ francis devereaux.#⋆ ⚓︎ ⋆ ── 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 ┊ 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑓 𝑤𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑓𝑎𝑡𝑒 . . . 𝑖𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑢𝑠.#probably not the case in every verse #also it is very late and words are not wording #*shrug emoji* listen it was a cute idea and it brings #me and francis joy #also this song is literally my writing jam #death cw #memory loss cw #illness cw #grief cw

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