Memory Loss - Tumblr Posts

| FRACTURED 1 |

Summary: After a traumatic accident, you wake up with memories of a life, everyone around you denies you ever lived.

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Warnings: Angst, crime, mystery, kinda strangers to lovers.

A/N: This is clearly inspired by "Our Time" by @taestefully-in-luv Since I couldn't take it out of my head, I wrote this homage.

||||

FEVER DREAM

You were printing the remaining documents wishing for the machine to hurry up already, so you could drop them at court and finally go home.

"Still here?" asked Captain Min, peeking through the door of your small office.

"Yeah, I want to take this there today so they'll get the documents to check first thing tomorrow morning. I want her out of questioning and out of the city as fast as possible.

"Quite a complicated case though" he replied "I'm not sure they'll let you represent her as usual. Her statement could save tons of lives"

"I know, but I gotta try" reaching for the latest paper you started to organize them in a binder, already full of evidence "We are talking about girls and women Yoongi. I need them to give me the green light so I can work on getting the full statement to represent her in court. She doesn't need to go through this twice, that's why I work here, it's my job.

"I know, I'm just saying is unlikely"

In a somber mood, you checked your watch and realized you have wasted precious time talking.

"Gotta go If I want to make it on time. See you tomorrow captain" you said mischievously while squeezing through the door in a rush.

"See ya, victims advocate" replicated Yoongi laughing heartily.

Still laughing you left the precinct making sure to say goodbye to the new security guy and strutted across the streets trying to reach court in time.

||||

"Star... Star can you hear me?"

Blinking, you tried to remember where were you, but you couldn't. The last thing you recalled was walking to the local courthouse, but all was fuzzy before and after.

"Star, are you okay?"

Shaking your head you focused on the voice that was talking and groaned. Your head was pulsating and your throat was sore.

"Her pulse is fine," said another voice "And she is waking up now, I'll come back later to see how she continues but she should be okay now".

"Good, thanks doc. I'll take it from here".

Finally being able to focus you realized you were laying on a bed in what you supposed was a hospital room. But the place looked small and shabby.

"Where am I?"

"You scared us for a second Star," the man sitting in a chair right against her bed said, "When we took you out of the water we thought we had lost you".

Water? So you did have an accident... but you were nowhere near the water, your town isn't close to it.

"Do you remember, right?" the man looked around searching for someone, but they were alone in the room now.

"I-I... the last I remember is getting out of work and-"

"Yes, thank god, we were going out of work" The man looked relieved you were both on the same page "Since the accident, you have been having memory problems and I didn't know if you were going to wake up this time knowing us or not".

"Memory problems? I-I that can't be. I remember my life fairly well, how could I have lost it..."

"Star, you've been here for a few weeks, and every time you wake up you look more and more confused. The doctor said it was expected since, well lack of oxygen could lead to memory trouble".

"But I don't have amnesia!" you screamed stressed, your head was palpitating and you couldn't breathe well "I know who I am, and my fucking name is not Star!"

Apologetically, the man sighed and got up from the chair.

"This been going on for a while, I-I need to take a break," he said looking defeated.

Trying to calm your beating heart, you looked around and strained your ear to hear noises from outside, but it was silent.

You felt tempted to get up and look out the window but before you could do that, the door opened again and a different man entered the room.

"Star!" he exclaimed. His mop of hair bounced, as he hurriedly made his way to you, once he saw you were conscious "You’re awake!"

"Don't get your hopes up" said the first man appearing again and leaning in the door's lintel "She doesn't remember us".

"W-What?" the doe eyes of the second man looked impossibly big "Baby, you don't remember me?" He said with a pout while grabbing your hand.

"I-I what? Baby?" Retiring your hand from his grasp you put it over your heart. It was beating like crazy "I'm sorry, I don't know you".

"Oh. I see" replied the man, looking disappointed.

"Look I just wanna go home. Can I do that? Can I leave?"

"Sure. I'll take you home".

"Not yet," said the first man, now entering the room and sitting next to the bed again "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I already told you," you said, exasperated "I finished printing the paperwork at my work, I said goodbye to my boss, and was on my way to drop some documents at court. I don't remember anything else after that. Besides walking on the street, I mean."

"What should we do hyung?" asked the guy with the wavy hair. He looked defeated.

Sighing, the older man straightened his back and made eye contact with you.

"Ok. We'll have to believe something happened with your brain - as the doctor said - because what you just told us makes no sense".

"What do you mean?" You whispered, afraid of the answer he might give you.

"First of all, my name is Kim Namjoon and I'm the spokesperson of the village we are in".

"More like a leader, hyung"

"Whatever you want to call it, I'm the voice and face inside and outside of here".

"Ok".

"We know you by the name of Star and you've lived in this place for as long as I can remember..."

"That, that can't be... how?" Confused you looked around the room again. You were sure of who you were, but this made no sense "My name isn't Star is y/n, and I work at the 4th precinct downtown".

"Downtown? Where?" Kim Namjoon asked, looking exasperated "We live on an island. The only way out of here is by boat or by car. By boat is closer, hence why we always use it. Driving takes at least 12 hours to get us out the forest and out of the island".

Astonished, you remained silent.

"You've lived here since your parents died and my father heard of their passing. I'm not sure how they knew each other, but he brought you here and raised you as his own. I remember being childish while he tried to explain it to me, saying the only other option was an orphanage..."

"My parents aren't dead! They live across the country!" You yelled furiously. You knew this story wasn't real, it couldn't be. You remembered everything. "I don't know who you think you are, but I'm going home. I can't listen to any more nonsense".

Sighing, both men looked at each other.

"Fine. First thing tomorrow morning, I'll take you wherever you want to go. But hear me out Star" you could only roll your eyes at the constant use of a name it wasn't yours "I am not leaving you there. It could be dangerous, you'll realize you are confused and have nowhere to go. And when you see that and you'll see it, you'll have to come back with me. I won't put you in unnecessary danger".

"Don't worry Kim Namjoon, everything will be fine" she said defiantly "I'll be sleeping in my bed tomorrow night".

"Sure thing. Wanna sleep here tonight or in your house?"

"I have a house?"

"Yes Star, you have a house" he deadpanned.

||||

Hope you like it! Let me know what you think :)

| FRACTURED 2 |

Summary: After a traumatic accident, you wake up with memories of a life, everyone around you denies you ever lived.

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Warnings: Angst, kinda strangers to lovers, eventual crime, mystery.

A/N: Thank you for reading :)

||||

TRIP TO NOWHERE

"Um. I haven't had the chance to introduce myself properly" said the doe eyed man walking alongside her to Namjoon’s car "I'm Jungkook".

You nodded. You were still a little freaked out that he had called you baby.

"I think there is something you need to know before we arrive hom- I mean- at your house".

"What is it?"

"Uhh" he looked so uncomfortable you kinda wanted to take him out of his misery, but you barely knew him "What you should know is that- uh - wekindalivetogetherinthehouse".

"Jungkook" chastisized Namjoon opening the car doors.

"Sorry hyung, but she should know".

"We live together?" You asked, confused. Why would they live toget- Oh. That's why he had called you baby... But that made no sense! You weren't dating, you didn't have a partner.

"I won't stay with you because I can tell it bothers you. I just, I wanted to let you know in case you find something mine in there".

You nod curtly and remained silent. You didn't know the guy, as handsome as he looked, you weren't going to risk sleeping under the same roof with a stranger. Less, knowing something didn't add up in this situation.

Once in the house you finally had time to yourself. As soon as the men left, you started questioning everything they have been telling you.

"Star?" You huffed "What a ridiculous name, how can this be my name".

Jungkook had walked you to the door, opened it for you and handed you the keys. Eyeing him suspiciously you had took them and closed the door without further conversation.

Looking around you started getting creeped out, this house was exactly like the one from your memories. The kitchen was in the same layout, bathroom had the same curtains and the main bedroom had all your bedding and even the skincare. Sitting at the end of the bed, you felt overwhelmed. You could feel the anxiousness rising slowly through your body.

"Why does this look the same? I- It- It can't be".

Feeling nauseous you ran to the toilet and threw up. Your insides were burning and for a split of a second you questioned if you had really drowned. With all the adrenaline, you hadn't notice, but right now you were realizing everything ached.

With difficulty, you blocked both doors in the house and laid in bed crying. The next day would bring answers, you were sure of it. This wasn't right.

||||

The next day didn't come fast enough, and you barely slept, so when you heard a loud knock at the door, you didn't react quickly.

Dragging your foot you take out the obstacles and opened the door to see a chirp Namjoon and a worried Jungkook.

"Good morning" said Namjoon "Are you ready?"

"Ah no, sorry, let me clean up real quick" you answered, warm cheeks showing you embarrassment.

"Sure, we'll wait here" Namjoon sat, getting comfortable in your couch.

When you were ready, you grabbed a purse you found there and walked to where the men were waiting for you.

"Ready? Let's go" Namjoon said.

Jungkook hesitated, but then gave you a mug - your mug to be exact.

"I made you coffee, I hope you don't mind".

"Thank you" you said curtly while accepting the cup.

Once in the car Namjoon said:

"We could go walking, but since we are trying to make it to the city quickly we'll just drive to the dock and then we'll take a boat to the city.

"Sure"

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jungkook watching you with frown eyebrows. But you paid no attention, you just wanted to get to the city quickly.

Looking curiously through the window, you realized it was really a village. Lots of wood houses surrounding a small square with a well in the middle. People were walking and talking. There were some vegetable and fruit stalls but overall, there wasn't much going on besides that.

The car got away from the village quickly and followed a path in the mud.

"We are here" Namjoon said, getting out of the car.

You looked around but saw no boat.

"Where-?"

"Over here" called Jungkook, leading her to a small wood dock that was barely visible due to vegetation.

"Ok" you said and started walking confidently in his direction, but as soon as you put a foot on the dock you felt yourself shiver. You tried to keep walking, but your body didn't seem to obey.

"Star?" You heard Namjoon’s voice far away.

Shaking incontrollably, you tried to speak but your throat was sore and you vision was getting plagued by black dots.

Suddenly, Jungkook's face was in front of you. He looked worried.

"Do you need any help?"

You tried to answered him no, but couldn't move at all.

"I'm gonna carry you ok? Star?" He said, sounding comforting.

You didn't want that, but couldn't say no either.

With delicacy, he leaned to grab your legs and support your back so he could carry you bride style to the boat. Still trembling, you tried to move your arms but your body was frozen otherwise. The involuntarily movement pushed your head against his shoulder and the smell of his perfume or his body - you didn't know - surrounded you. It did seemed familiar and it relaxed you.

You were able to close your eyes and fairly quickly, you were inside of the cabin of the boat. The space wasn't as small as you supposed it was going to be, and if you sat strategically you couldn't even see through the few windows.

"Sorry" Jungkook said, helping you to the ground "I know it's hard, is just, this is quicker than by car".

"How long is by car?"

Jungkook was knealing in front of you after he helped you sit on the floor. He was looking at you with a soft gaze, but before you could start drowning in it, Namjoon’s voice filled the space.

"12 hours by car, since we would have to surround the entire island to reach the bridge that connects to mainland".

"I see"

"By boat is more direct though, so it'll only take an hour to reach land. It is a bit secluded, but we also have a car in that dock waiting for us".

||||

Everything was going wrong.

You insisted on going to your apartment first, but the door has been opened by an unknown woman, telling you she has been living there since she got married long ago. Kindly, Namjoon explained the overall situation and the lovely lady let you wander around the place.

You didn't find anything yours, but the woman had a similar decoration and the disposition of the place was alike. You tried to wreck your brain and find something only you could know, but nothing came to mind and soon enough you all had to leave.

In absolute silence, you walked out of the building. Wringling your hands and afraid you were truly confused, you looked at the sky. How could you create all this vivid memories in your head? It couldn't be. It just couldn't.

"Where to now?" Asked Namjoon, with little emotion in his voice.

"To the preccint" you answered, already making the path you used to take to go to work.

"Star? Where are you going?" Asked Jungkook, confused.

"To the police station?" You said unsure.

"Let's take the car" was the only thing Namjoon said, with no space left to argue.

"Oh, sure".

Once in the vehicle, Namjoon took different routes, never one you knew by heart. So, despite knowing where you were, you had no clue as how to move around if you were to go walking from here.

Sooner rather than later, the three of you were outside the preccint. Obviously, you didn't have your work ID with you, so your only hope was to go and try for the guard to ring you in.

Confidently, you went to walk in hoping the guard will recognize you, but he stopped you almost immediately.

"You aren't allowed to go in miss" he said, blocking the access "This is a private entrance-".

"For workers of the station, yes I know. I work here" you said "I don't have my ID as of now, but if you let me in I'll talk with Captain Min personally".

"Sorry miss, but I can't let you go in, you can try the public access though, just go around the corner."

"My office is this way, I usually don't go through that door".

Eyeing her suspiciously, he moved to block the door.

"You with them?" He asked, pointing at Jungkook and Namjoon.

"Yeah, but if that's a problem they don't need to go in with me" you stated without even looking at them.

"Let me ask about it, please face this way" he said indicating a camera placed high on the wall.

Impatiently, you dared to look at Namjoon who shoot you an unimpressed look, but on the other hand, Jungkook seemed nervous.

Nervous about what, you wondered. It was because their ruse was going to end or was something else at stake here?

"Name?" Asked the police guard, interrupting your thoughts. You answered and awaited nervously, moving from foot to foot.

"I'm sorry miss, they say you don't have clearance to go in".

"W-What? How-?" You stuttered, starting to feel afraid "W-who is at the desk?"

"I'm afraid I can't give you that information. Sorry for your trouble. You still can try through the main entrance".

"How can it be! A month ago I was working here! I need to talk with Captain Min Yoongi, he'll know me" you pleaded with the guard, feeling your stress starting to rise and rise.

"Let's just try the other door Star" you heard Namjoon’s voice next to you.

"I- yes, okay" starting to walk away, you suddenly thought of another idea. Turning around you said "Just a second, hey could you asked for Captain Min to check the camera?"

The officer seemed worried and you saw him looked around.

"Miss I can't bother the Captain with these affairs".

"Please, just please" you begged him, there was not point in going to the public entrance if you couldn't talk with Yoongi.

"Ok, I'll ask" he nodded moving aside. You saw him speaking through the radio, but couldn't hear all he was saying.

"Miss? They informed me Captain Min isn't available to fulfill your request".

"Oh, thank you. I'll be out of your hair now" you replied, disappointed "Thanks again"

Nodding, the man shared a look with the three of you, but you didn't acknowledge it. You just wanted to go away as fast as possible.

Coughing, he looked at you and spoke again.

"They informed me that, eh- that he isn't available because no one under that name works here".

Stopping in your tracks, you just inhaled. Shaking your head you refused to acknowledge that information and kept walking. You didn't know what were the thoughts going through Namjoon or Jungkook's head and you didn't want to know.

Disheartened and trying to think what to do, you cursed yourself for not knowing the number of Yoongi. He had to be worried, you knew that. You had been working together so many years that you became friends and barely a day went by that you didn't see each other or talked with one another.

But the only number you knew by heart was the landline your parents still had in their house.

Wait! That could work!

"Namjoon do you have my phone?" You asked, stopping yourself in the middle of the street.

"Yeah, in the car though" he answered.

"Let's go then"

"What about the station?" Asked Jungkook, still looking conflicted.

"If Yoongi isn't there - doesn't work there - is of no help".

"To the car then" Namjoon said, changing the direction of his steps.

Sitting in the car he gave you your phone but it was turned off.

"Sorry, you fell to the water with it. I don't think is working".

Sighing at your bad luck, you tried to turn it on, but nothing happened.

"Okay, can you lend me yours?"

Before you had to repeat yourself, Jungkook took out his own phone and placed it in your hand.

"Thank you" dialing your parent's number, you waited for the line to pick up.

"The number you have dialed doesn't exist. The number you have dialed doesn't exist."

Gulping and feeling tears pooling in your eyes, you kept trying until Jungkook took the phone away from your trembling hands. Listening to the message, he shook his head at Namjoon, who just sighed and started the car.

"Let's go home Star" said Namjoon, patting your shoulder. You only had energy to nod.

||||

You had been laying in bed for a month now. After the disaster that your excursion to the city had resulted to be, you had refused to leave the house until something made sense. But everything was still confusing.

You could understand that the police officer couldn't recognize you, but the one working at the cameras? The guy that usually had that job was one you knew well, you even had dinner with him and his wife!

The same thing happened with your parents, they have had that phone number since forever and despite you telling them numerous times that they should get rid of it, they had never wanted to. It was rare for them to do it right when you needed it the most. The only logical explanation was that all that Namjoon and Jungkook were telling you was the truth, but you had no recollection of any of it.

You only had the memories everyone seemed to think were fake. But how could your brain construct such a complete life without you having lived it?

Another thing that confused you was your newly acquired fear of water.

According to your memories you never were afraid of it, but you reaction to the river had been puzzling to you. Even now, thinking of it made you shudder.

That was the only thing that ring true about everything Namjoon and Jungkook had said.

And even if you kept the silent treatment, Jungkook didn't fail to leave you warm food everyday or just drop by to deliver whatever you might need, despite the lack of response from you.

You didn't know where he was staying, and you didn't want to know. But at the same time you still felt a little guilty, if this was indeed his house, you were keeping him out of it.

"Hey, I'm just dropping by to leave you dinner" you heard his voice while he closed the front door.

Tired of not knowing and curious about what he could tell you about yourself, you left your bed. For the first time in weeks, you went out of the room and joined him in the kitchen.

"Hi"

Surprised, he turned around and smiled at you.

"Hi" he was busy fixing your food and saving some groceries in the pantry "Want to eat something?"

"Sure".

If Jungkook was surprised again, he didn't show it. He just got to it while you watched him in silence, until you couldn't handle it anymore.

"Jungkook?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you tell me about Star- I mean, me?"

"I don't know if I should" he said, looking conflicted "Namjoon said that he was going to talk to you when you feel better. We could call him later".

"Do you really have to ask for his permission?" You said, knowing it might hurt him but not caring at all. You wanted answers now.

You could handle it.

Serving your food, he sat in front of you in the tiny kitchen.

"I know the same he told you. Is what- is what you said when we met aswell. Your parents died in some sort of accident, Namjoon’s dad brought you here, sort of adopted you and I met you when he did the same for me. He, well, I'm thankful because he saved me from orphanage life and you never said it, but I think you are too".

Stunned and and unable to speak, you tried to process the information, but it was so strange to you it just felt out of reach.

"We met as childs or-?"

"Well, sort of. We indeed met as kids, but we never really lived together. For a while, you lived with Namjoonie hyung but then we were all sent to study in the city and we mainly stayed there. I lived with hyung all those years while you went to a different school. We didn't really eh - connect - until we all cameback from university.

"Okay" she said softly, trying to piece all the information together. Didn't ring any bell, but at this rate it seemed nothing ever will "If I spent so much time away from here, why did I got back?"

Smiling at her, his big eyes searched her face warmly.

"We never explicitly said it, but I guess we both felt we owned this place all we had. Here we both work for the village and honestly? We have all we could want.

"Am I happy here?" Coming back to live at a secluded island did sound right up your alley though. Like something you would actually do. Especially if you knew you could help someone in the process.

"I think so" he said "I hope so".

Exchanging an unknown, but comfortable look, you thought to yourself that as long as you were confused about your life, the smartest decision was to continue with this life as Star.

"I was thinking, where are you staying? This was your house too right?"

"Oh don't worry about it, Namjoon hyung has enough space to share and since I work with him everyday, is easier this way".

"Oh, okay" you replied, doubtful "Well if- if at any time you want to comeback, you can do it. I don't mind- since is your house aswell, that is."

Reaching out for your plate, Jungkook stood up and started to rinse it.

"I'll think about it" he mentioned "It's kind of hard to be next to you, but not with you".

"Ah".

"Go get ready, I'll accompany you to see Namjoon hyung, so you can talk to him too".

"Okay".

Walking slowly and without looking back, you heard him hum a familiar tune while he kept tyding your place.

||||

"Well, hello Star, what brings you both here?"

"Hmm, Jungkook and I were talking about- about me. And he said you also wanted to talk".

"Sure" Namjoon was sitting in a desk in his office "You can leave us Jungkook" he dismissed it, and gave you a smile.

Jungkook patted your shoulder and left you both alone.

The room had a big window at Namjoon’s back, and you could see the movement of the town through it.

People came and went, some carrying boxes, other dragging carts, but overall everyone was busy.

"Honestly, I just wanted to talk with you so I can know if I can expect you at work soon".

"Work? I don't- don't really know what I did- do, its a bit confusing".

"Of course, I understand that. It's just that I've been covering for you and on top of that I've been doing my job, so you'll understand I'm beat".

For someone, who had supposedly lived with you as family for a few years, Namjoon looked really stoic and goal oriented. You wondered if your relationship was always like that.

"It's not that hard anyway, you could jump right in" Namjoon said, looking for something in his desk "Here, this was you notebook, since internet is not that good here, we saved everything in paper first".

Looking through it, you realized it was full of numbers and products.

"Did I do inventary?"

"And other tasks" he confirmed "You checked the numbers aswell. Before everything goes through Jungkook or me, you were the person in charge of the accounting.

"Accounting?"

"Yes, maybe that's why you are confused that you worked as a police station secretary's..."

"I was a victim advocate! I worked representing the survivors!" You yell, getting ofuscated "And don't get me wrong, there is no shame in working as a secretary, but I am so tired of hear that line".

"Sorry" he replied, not looking regretful at all "Going back to business, do you feel like working again? It would save the rest of us the extra work.

"Sure, but I'm not confident I'll know how to do it correctly".

"Don't worry" said Namjoon, smiling mischievously for the first time. His dimples made him look as if he was up to no good "That's what Jungkook is for".

||||

(La lleva a la casa y es muy parecida a la de sus recuerdos y tiene todas sus cosas, lo que la confunde

La llevan a la ciudad y luego de 1 día de viaje llegan a su departamento y otra familia (pagada) vive ahí y el lugar luce nada que ver, confundida va a la policía y se ingresa con credencial, el guardia (pagado por la mafia) no la deja pasar insistiendo que no la conoce y que no trabaja allí.

Trata de llamar a sus padres y nadie le contesta, suena como número no existente (los locos se lo bloquean)

Confundida decide devolverse a la villa, wlnjefe compra cosas y las llevan de vuelta y otro día de viaje y ella se aclimata a su casa

Le dicen que su trabajo consistía en llevar el inventario de la cosecha y la venta de los vegetales y que quizás por eso ella estba confundida que trabajaba de secretaria de la policía  "no de secretaria! De victim advocate! I was their representant!"

She starts to live there everyone greeting they have light and water and wifi but supposedly bad signal

||||

| masterlist |

Prompt 27

Geralt is fighting a mage who takes his memory of the last 30 or so years and plops it in a jar before fucking off. Geralt is confused, but even moreso when he returns camp and some guy in obnoxious clothing is waiting for him. The man gasps at Geralt's appearance - No big deal, humans always do - Before rushing over to him and pouncing to attack. Geralt does the smart thing and flings the human away. The human slides in the dirt a bit and looks up at him with hurt in his expression, which is... odd. Roach also seems a bit peeved. Maybe because there's a strange man in their camp? "Geralt, what's gotten into you? That- That was rather rude. You could've just said you didn't want me to hug you today." "Today?" "Yes, Geralt! I hug you after every hunt gone well! Every day! What are you, a doppler?" "Are you?" "Hah hah, very funny Geralt, I'm laughing, truly, I am." "...How do you know my name?" And suddenly the human looks very worried. "Oh fuck- Did you hit your head or something!? Do you have a concussion? Can witchers even get concussions!?" The bright man screeches, reaching for him again. Geralt very awkwardly flails his arm up to swat his hand away with a harsh "Don't touch me." and the man glares at him, before slowly just looking... sad. Deep down, Geralt dislikes seeing this man look upset. It causes this odd ache deep to his core. Geralt begins interrogating this man about why and how he knows him, and the man keeps talking to Geralt as if he's some poor wet puppy in a box. Eventually Geralt tells him to leave the camp and not follow him. The man doesn't listen. Geralt is getting really fed up with him, until the man tells him he'll leave Geralt if he takes him to some woman named "Yennefer" because "She'll hopefully know how to help." This in turn becomes Yennefer saying Geralt's lost all his memories of Jaskier, Jaskier sobbing into Yennefer's shoulder as she awkwardly comforts her weird gay friends, and then her sending Jaskier and Geralt (and or also coming along) to track down the mage and get the jar of memories back, even though the entire time Geralt is adamant about Jaskier not coming, fearful for the human who seems to care so much about him for some reason. Either he can't trust this "Jaskier", or even worse, this Jaskier who seems too perfect to be true is real, and does indeed care for Geralt this much, and thus Geralt can't let ANYTHING bad happen to him.

The Dissociative amnesia literally doesn’t even bother me, I can write stuff down and ask other people about stuff my brain purges. The real problem is how hard it can be to retain media. And it’s stupidly selective. I can’t remember a damn thing that happened in Assasination classroom nor any of the characters barring the one, in spite of having rewatched it only like a year ago. Even with media I engage in regularly, the trivia of my hyperfixations elude me. It was nice exactly once, because I got to rewatch Banana Fish blind by actively pretending it didn’t exist for a while, but it’s generally a nuisance. It’s not that big a problem and it’s not exactly hard to recap stuff, but specifically rn, I forgot I was rewatching tmnt 2012, and reading over my notes, I remember like 5% of this. I don’t wanna have to read through the wiki to pick it back up. That’s annoying and the nuance of my observations is gone. It fucking sucks

forgot i had tumblr lmao

I feel like shit today and on top of that I burned my bed with a cigarette, I don't even know how and when because I have such memory lapses. FUCK MY SHITTY LIFE.

This is my first fanfic post on here. I'm not sure how long it'll be.

Protocol 19

What if Bell isn't dead?

"Heros have to make sacrifices. That's why when I ask you to make one more, I hope you understand..." He said.

Then he shot me.

The last thing I remember is a sharp pain and falling.

"Shhh, Bell, the job's done." He said.

The world went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 1

"Late night again, Catie?" Helen said

"Well, we can't all have glamorous journalism careers, can we?" Catherine said, turning to her sister.

"Still, I can't believe you actually enjoy working at the pub."

"I enjoy meeting new people," Cate said

"And getting into fistfights with them, apparently.

"Well." Cate shrugged with a laugh. "It's a living."

"And on that note, I'd best get to bed. Big football game tomorrow, Charlie scheduled a double shift"

The next night, the pub was bustling. It was almost standing room only as rival soccer teams played a championship match.

"Oi, Catie!" Charlie yelled in his thick London accent. Table in back 'asn't been served yet."

" Alright, Charlie," said Cate as she poured beers for the patrons at the bar, then swiftly turned to grab a pen and pad of paper before heading to the table.

" 'Ello loves, what is it tonight for ya?"

She approached the table where three men sat. One with combed back and graying dark brown hair, stress etched on his face. One with slightly spiked black hair, grey in his trimmed but still bushy moustache and beard, and anger in his eyes. The last had a shaved bald head, aviator sunglasses and a scowl.

"Stop being such a sourpuss Hudson, we're here to celebrate." The one with the moustache said.

"A celebration, eh." Said Cate. "What's the occasion?"

The one with the slicked back hair gestured toward the one called Hudson. " Our friend is one month sober." he said happily.

" I hate you both." Hudson said through girted teeth.

"In that case, welcome to the Drake and Clover. I'm Cate, and the first round is on me." She said before turning to attend to her other tables.

After a few moments, the men flagged her down and decided on a couple of beers and a scotch-less scotch and soda.

" I heard this place had some fucking delicious fish and chips." Said Frank.

Cate laughed. "Best this side of the Thames."

"We'll take three." Said Alex.

"You lads are my favorite table tonight."

-----‐------------------------------------------

Closing time came faster than Cate expected. It was a good night. Her favorite team had won their match, and she made out like a bandit on tips tonight, not to mention she'd also gotten a cute guy's phone number. Being on cloud nine was an understatement.

"Helen, I have wonderful news." Cate said, as she danced her way into the flat they shared.

"She's home now, yes just walked through the door." She heard Helen whisper into the phone. "Alright then, be ready." She immediately hung up when she heard Cate call her.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing, dear, just catching up with some old friends. What was is you said about wonderful news?"

"I can finally pay my half of the rent." Cate excitedly said, as she pulled out the wad of cash and counted out the bills. "200 quid...in advance, you won't have to pay my share too this month." She said with a wide grin.

"Oh! That is wonderful," said Helen, hugging Cate.

But she didn't let go. "I hope you understand," she whispered as she stabbed Cate in the neck with a needle.

A sharp pain and falling...

Catherine stumbled off the sofa, letting the money she held cascade from her hands.

"Wha' fa?" she slurred out, while holding her neck. The room seemed to spin faster and faster by the minute. Then, to her amazement, the men from the Pub entered.

She tried to say, "A'yeesh, F'ank, Yushnin' wha'?" as she crawled to safety.

"I hope you know what you re doing," said Hudson

"Do you have any better ideas?" asked Woods.

" Stop squabbling, we have more pressing matters," said Helen, kneeling by the now limp woman on the floor.

"BELL, WE HAVE A JOB TO DO."

The world went dark.

https://joyfulpolicehologram.tumblr.com/post/671871152613916672/protocal-19

Hey y'all, I don't know what's going on in my life anymore but if like to make this blog into a public account of my life and struggle against mental health. I plan on posting my feelings and and vent into the void and hope it says something back. I plan on placing the necessary trigger warnings at the top of all of my posts. I will occasionally post pictures of myself and what little art that I have been up to.

The purpose of this is to hopefully raise awareness of mental health and to effectively post a public diary and track my personal progress through this crazy, wild ride.

It's really hard to not hate yourself when you only remember the bad things that people have said you've done. That's the one of the worst parts about losing your memory of who you were.

you know your memory loss is bad when you have to write down the stuff to remember to talk about with your therapist

I'm getting increasingly frustrated with my unawareness of time. There have been times where I swear I just... blinked... and a couple of days have passed.

Did I eat? 🤷‍♀️ Did I do anything important? 🤷‍♀️ Did I take my medication? Probably not. But happening constantly. Days. Weeks. Months. Pass by and I just... have no idea what I've done. I've obviously existed? But what else? No idea. ✌🏻🫠

Doesn't eat or drink water for an extended period of time:

Why do I feel like DEATH

Credit: Sarah Andersen - Sarah Scribbles

Spliced Meme

My cup of tea.. 🖤🤍🖤🤍

He was hiding.

It was shameful.

Ingo knew that but the noises of the bustling station and rumbling rails hurt deep inside his bones.

Overstimulated.

That’s what the therapist would say.

Ingo didn't think it used to happen.

Not before.

Or at least not as often.

So he was hiding, standing off to the side and in the shadows, barely holding it together. Tearing apart at his badly worn seams after having stitched himself together over and then over again. He'd always been observant. Had to be. Both here in the subway and back in Hisui.

But he was exhausted from being on alert all the time. From stringing together all his missing pieces by reading between the lines of Emmet's telling silences. His head ached. He was exhausted. Still, the trains ran.

The rails roared.

Ingo hid.

“Um, e’excuse me?” The passenger before him looked uncertain; hands clutching, worrying, the straps of their bag in such a way that laid bare their nervousness. “I’ve. I’m. I missed.” Young. Eyes glossed thick with tears. It took him too long to parse out what they were trying to say, syllables clashing together in his ears like the echoes of footsteps down a long corridor. If Ingo hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought they’d been speaking the language of another region. He tilted his head, closed his eyes. Willed himself to understand as they continued their stilted explanation, thankfully unaware of the Subway Master’s current struggle.

Ah.

A missed connection.

And here they’d caught him without use of his words, mouth gaping uselessly when he went to reassure them that this was an error easily fixed. Reflexively, Ingo passed a closed fist across his chest in apology, guiding the passenger towards a nearby depot agent with a hand at the small of their back. From the corner of his eye, Ingo saw them watch, fascinated, as he conveyed the issue through sign, apologizing again.

“Not a problem, Boss Ingo.” The agent flashed him a kind grin. “I’ll sort this out in a jiff.” Ingo nodded in thanks, patting the youth gently on the head and offering them his version of a smile before returning to his post.

It was his own stubborn resolve that forbade him returning to their shared office.

“--Ngo!” He surfaced from the bottom of a deep well to Emmet repeating his name. Not touching. They’d learned the hard way that Ingo couldn’t stand to be touched when he was like this. Not until he'd come back from wherever he'd gone anyway. Sluggish, his eyes slipped from Emmet’s face to his Noble. Traitor. Though he couldn’t be mad. He’d needed help. She’d fetched it. “Hullo!” Forced cheer and a megawatt grin.

He’d been back for months. At work for weeks.

Struggling for days.

Why now did it feel as though everything was impossible? Emmet’s smile softened in understanding.

“We will go home.” Ingo shook his head, already halfway to the office by the time his untrustworthy mind sorted out what his younger brother was saying, words still caught somewhere in the short length of his throat. Lady Sneasler chirped in worry when he went to fingerspell with shaky hands and Emmet only paused in his stride to hold them still as the crowd broke easily around them, like water flowing around stones. “It is alright.” He continued to reassure, speaking slowly and signing alongside when Ingo had visible trouble keeping up. “You are not well.” And when that didn’t work, “you promised.” Though the sting of his reminder was tempered by the brush of a palm beneath the brim of his cap. “Yup. Not at all.”

Oh.

Is that why he felt so tired? Eyes hot and skin clammy? That made a certain amount of sense. It wouldn't be the first time Ingo pushed through an illness without noticing. Drove Calaba and Irida and Melli up cliffs. Ingo's chest felt hollow with remembering. Filled up with sorrow and loss and for once he allowed it to derail him.

Gently, Emmet guided Ingo down to the office couch, displacing at least half a dozen Joltik on the way, and coaxed him into taking some medicine before starting the somewhat lengthy process of buttoning up the station.

Cool hands woke him and Ingo only felt worse for his nap, head packed with Jumpluff fluff and thoughts sticky and slow like Combee honey. The tickle in his throat blossomed into a cough and tumbled into a choking fit, those same hands pushing him forward so he could catch his breath. He whimpered low when moving hurt, a thousand aches lighting up like there were pinpointed Swift stars at the ends of each of those careful fingers. Water touched his lips, soothed the threat of another attack.

“Ingo?” His own name nearly slipped away from him and he didn’t catch what followed, too disorientated by the change in gravity as he was lifted into Lady Sneasler’s capable claws. So he drifted. Accepted the pills offered up with another swallow. Turned his face away from the noise and the harsh concussions of too many consonants and into soft warm fur and the comforting beat of his Lady’s heart.

“Thank you, Elesa.” Absent-mindedly, Emmet tried to keep hold of his manners while directing Lady Sneasler in loading his older brother into the gym leader's car. She hushed him, buckling Ingo in from the other side before removing his cap and gloves. Though his complaint was nearly soundless, his shivering was profound, and Elesa spared the time to card delicate fingers through his silver hair. “This came on so quickly.” Emmet fussed, tucking his own station master jacket around Ingo’s shoulders and pressing the back of his hand against a hot cheek, smile wan when rewarded with a brief flash of gray.

“He’ll be okay, just a bad flu or something, I’m sure of it, Emmet.” He wasn’t convinced, fretting a moment more before tugging Ingo into his arms. Lady Sneasler folded herself into the seat beside, mindful of her claws and the delicate upholstery and Elesa tapped her driver on the shoulder, sparing a glance at the packed backseat. “Clinic, please.”

“Breathe in.” Emmet mimed with his hands, holding Ingo’s bleary gaze like a lifeline as the doctor passed the smooth diaphragm of the stethoscope over the scarred planes of his back. Behind them Elesa nibbled her thumbnail, leaning against the wall and watching in worry. “Again.” It was the second time she’d listened in that spot, expression creased but unreadable. Sneasler chuffed impatiently as her Warden shivered in the thin gown. Next, she removed the earpieces, slinging the whole instrument around her neck, before bending close and thumping her fingers alongside his spine.

“Well??” Ingo jumped at Emmet’s demanding tone and Emmet couldn’t find it in himself to feel too badly about it, not when he needed answers and Ingo desperately needed rest. She indicated his folded clothes set aside for the exam, stepping aside to wash her hands as Emmet helped guide Ingo back into his undershirt and button down. With a groan, his forehead came to rest in the hollow between his younger brother’s neck and shoulder as he finished up the buttons.

“As long as the fever is manageable with medication, he can recover at home.” She fixed them both with a stern look. "If you can't get it down or he becomes confused or has trouble breathing, call an ambulance."

“Emeh–” Ingo coughed, deep and painful and wet, muffled breathlessly against Emmet’s collarbone and behind closed lips, sliding limp fingertips from his ear to the corner of his ever-present frown before his hand dropped listless in his lap.

“I am Emmet. We will go home.” Ingo shuddered, burrowing closer.

“Before you leave, I’d like to administer an antiviral.”

“Another delay?” Elesa held up her hand in a placating gesture, motioning for Emmet to be calm and wait.

“Just how long would that take, Doctor?”

“Fifteen minutes or so. Long enough for his additional prescriptions to be filled here at our pharmacy. I really do think it would be for the best, considering how hard these symptoms are hitting him.”

“Emmet?”

“If you think it will help.”

“I do.” She nodded. Decisive. “He can lay down for the procedure, I’ll be right back.”

Both Emmet and Lady Sneasler grew increasingly concerned (agitated) when the physician couldn’t find a suitable vein in Ingo’s arm. Dehydration. Not uncommon, she explained, with the flu, they would just add some IV fluids at the same time. That would go a long way to making him feel better and he didn’t even have to move. Could just stay where he was curled loosely against Emmet, watching through half-lidded eyes limned with shadow as the doctor slid the catheter home into the top of his hand, securing it with tape before patting it gently.

“You just rest for a few moments, Subway Boss Ingo.” Elesa followed her out with the intention of completing the necessary paperwork, leaving the twins and Lady Sneasler to their quiet. The large Pokemon wasted no time in butting up to Ingo’s other side, stoking her engine and grooming his face with gentle swipes of her rough tongue. He sighed, the remaining rigidity in his trembling frame melting away pressed as he was safe between them.

“Careful, just here.” Emmet helped Ingo sit on the rim before dipping his hand into the tub to test the temperature of the water. Not too hot, not cold enough he’d catch a chill.

“Can. I can…do it.” Eyes still closed, Ingo plucked at his buttons with clumsy fingers.

“I am Emmet!” He rolled up his own sleeves before lending his assistance. “Of course you can!” Emmet braced his brother when he threatened to tip sideways. “But some help would be nice, right?” Slipped his socks off with one hand, trousers next, helping Ingo swing his legs into the tub, the one with the stiff hip giving them both some trouble. Elesa was putting together a simple meal and feeding their Pokemon while Emmet helped Ingo in the bath. He was sleepy, mumbling soft incoherent things as Emmet worked shampoo into his hair and rinsed, tipping his head back over his arm to keep soap out of his eyes. “Nice, hm?”

“...Nice.” Emmet chuckled, swiped a damp cloth over his shoulders, cataloging the scars there, ones he knew nothing about, and cleansed away the last of the fever sweat. Dried with the fluffiest towels they had and dressed in the softest of his pajamas, Ingo sipped Elesa’s soup from his mug all bundled up on the couch, nearly nodding off listening to the conversation happening around him.

“Could’ve brushed his hair, Emmy. He's as shaggy as a Shaymin.” Manicured nails scratched lightly over his scalp and Ingo leaned into her touch. “Little Nuzzleleaf here.”

“Elesa, no.”

“Ingo used Cuddle.” She lifted the ceramic out of his hands before he dropped it in favor of falling into her lap, hoping for more attention and very handsomely rewarded.

“Nooo.”

“It’s super effective!” Emmet whined.

“This is verrry bad.” Ingo chuffed at Emmet's discomfort, the traitor. “You are going to make him worse with all your bad jokes!!"

Ingo didn’t know what woke him. Perhaps Little Lady or Mirage rustling around the yurt, but he felt pinned like one of the Professor’s specimens by the heavy exhaustion in his limbs. Gradually, his eyes adjusted to the dark and his breath caught in his chest, painful, like taking a Focus Punch to the ribs.

Where was this place?

It. This wasn’t. The walls weren’t the right shape. Or the right height and the shadows. All. Everything was wrong. Gone were the soft shapes of his yurt, replaced with the odd geometry literally boxing him in with its four strong barricades.

Ingo wrinkled his nose against the odd smell of this place and tried to rise, heel of his hand pressed to one aching temple, only to fall off of the raised platform he’d been sleeping upon and into the arms of Lady Sneasler herself.

“Lady, I. There is.” He was cut off by a harsh fit of coughing and she braced him through it, concern clear in her expressive face. “I. This–” Ingo cut himself off in frustration, anger. Everything was muddled, confusing. He hurt, felt ill, weak. What had he allowed to happen to himself? How could he put his Noble in such danger?

He had to get them out. Escape this prison. Even as he shook with cold and wasn't all that certain he could stand unaided.

Where were his clothes? What was he wearing? Thin things. Unfamiliar things the color of night sky. His shoes had been taken. Pearl Clan tunic nowhere in sight now that his blurry vision was becoming somewhat adjusted to the darkness.

It was a room. Sparse. Unknown. He staggered on newly hatched Stantler legs, grasping the offered claw to steady himself.

“Ingo?” A sharp line of light cracked one dark wall in two. A stranger silhouetted in flickering purple flame. “We heard– what is wrong?”

Sneasler could see the moment it all broke bad in the air thick with tension between the twins. The mistrust and disbelief that bloomed in her Warden’s face at home with the flush high in his cheeks. His accusation a damning whisper.

“Zoroark?”

“Wha– no!” Emmet stepped forward, hands up, open, and Ingo, her brave and ever stalwart guardian, stepped between.

“Stay back!”

“Okay, I can do that, yup, I am Emmet. You are Ingo.” The younger offspring stepped back, now framed in the doorway. Chandelure peeked over his shoulder in concern. “You have not been well.”

“We are leaving.” Ingo’s strength was waning; sweat darkened the hair at his temples and dripped from his chin with the effort of standing.

“No!”

It was the wrong move.

Ingo leapt, a coiled spring, shoving his brother aside hard and casting frantically around for an exit in the home he no longer recognized, and she followed, afraid of what might happen should he disappear from her sight. He collided with the door, using it to hold himself up, grasping at the knob and fumbling with the now unfamiliar locking mechanism all while buying Emmet precious seconds to pick himself up off the floor.

“Chandelure! Hypnosis!”

“Lu’lure?” Her hesitation was Ingo’s freedom and the bang of the door was loud as Lord Electrode’s Self Destruct as they left the pair behind them.

Ingo slowed, stumbled to a stop, his breath ragged and wet in her ears. The acrid smell of the adrenaline on his skin faded as he pulled her into one of the small green spaces next to the dark path. For a brief moment, it made her heart long for open sky and the swathes of green nestled between mountain peaks. The cries of familiar Pokemon carried on the breeze instead of the rumbling roar of metal machines. She’s jolted out of her reverie by her Warden all but collapsing to the ground, tucked into the shadows of a small shrub she didn’t recognize and shaking fit to fly apart.

“My Lady…” She settled in beside him, lending her warmth to his feverish body. He relaxed into her with a cough, a shallow, hard-won wheeze, and the scent of illness enveloped her senses. Thick. Cloying. It wasn’t good for her human to be out here in this cold. Not when he was so sick.

“Snea.” Said softly, placating.

“Need to.” He swallowed, wilting. Flickering. “Figure…wh’where…”

They needed help and she made to stand, laying a claw on him as a message to stay put, dismayed when Ingo merely clung to her.

“L’Lady…please, please stay. Cannot, I cannot–” cut off by violent chills, the rest of whatever he was going to say choked by groans of pain between clenched teeth. Sneasler didn’t know what to do. She could track her way back, they hadn’t gotten far, not in her Warden’s condition. He’d been so scared when he bid them run. So confused and upset. Trying to keep her safe. Gently, she licked his too-hot face, smoothed back his sweat damp hair with her sandpaper tongue as he pleaded with her to stay, please stay.

But her Warden needed humans. They would know what to do with their medicines and rituals. Like that wrinkled old female from the Pearl Clan. Like how the strange humans in white coats had cared for him when they first arrived in this strange place.

“Snea, snea…” She tried to soothe, to explain, nuzzling the pulsepoint in his neck. But his trembling fingers tangled in her fur and while she could easily dislodge him, it seemed cruel to do so. Ingo’s littermate would be beside himself by now considering what happened between them. He never liked it when Ingo drifted too far out of his sight.

“Stay, stay, stay…” Words a garland strung along a shuddering breath, eyes bright, overflowing, with tears, begging her to stay here where it was safe. Where he could keep her safe and when he finally succumbed to the heady combination of fever and weariness she apologized in her way before taking off to find Emmet.

She had to go. Had to bring him here.

Emmet crashed hard to his knees, cradling Ingo’s unresponsive face in both hands before freeing one to call an ambulance. Under the incandescence, like a steam engine beneath his palm, he detected a languid heartbeat, slow and thready. Ingo gasped, breathing agonized and labored.

“Ingo? Brother?” He shook his head, panic blooming in the shaky smile across his face. “I am Emmet, you are okay. I am here, I am here, Ingo, I am here and everything is going to be alright.” Sneasler’s sensitive ears picked up on the klaxons heading towards them at speed. “Lady…he is. He is so hot.” Distraught, fear scent rolling off him in waves, Emmet ran his thumb over the bone of Ingo’s cheek. “I knew. Knew he was not feeling one hundred percent operational, and I–” He couldn’t tear his eyes away, as though Ingo might vanish. “Ingo, please.” No response. So deeply unconscious he didn’t so much as twitch when Emmet tipped him into his arms. Shadows hung cavernous and deep below each eye above cheeks painted with the bright, hectic flush of fever. The damp, furnace heat of him sweltering through both their sets of clothes. Emmet boxed up the panic threatening to overwhelm him and put it out of his mind. He’d be no good to Ingo if he lost it. “Soon, now. Soon now, and it will be alright.”

“Sneasler snea.” The Noble echoed his tone, ear twitching in the direction of the oncoming sirens.

Emmet had to grab Sneasler by both arms to keep her from attacking the emergency personnel lifting Ingo onto the gurney and out of their sight when they would not let them follow.

“Lady, they will help. They will help him.” He provided the name of the hospital and promised her they would meet him there but there wasn’t room in the ambulance for the both of them no matter how badly Emmet wanted to go with.

The scene in the hospital room was chaos.

Ingo, surrounded by staff, was huddled in a ball at the head of the hospital bed, fingers clasped over his ears, eyes wide and unseeing as he rocked and shook. Someone was talking, hushed and calm, trying to coax him off the ledge.

But he was panicking, his hoarse voice crying out for Lady Sneasler, the beating of his heart like a scream over the monitor.

“Shh, shh, Brother.” Emmet rushed forward, gathering him up, fragile and light and this somehow both was and wasn’t his Ingo. “You have to breathe. Your Lady is here. She is safe. You are safe.” He let Ingo sob against his shoulder, glaring at the doctors and daring them to try and separate them. Lady Sneasler bathed his face with her sandpaper tongue until there was no more than the occasional shuddery, exhausted inhale. Emmet was sweating where Ingo’s body was pressed against his own, chin resting on his shoulder. Chest to chest, Emmet could feel each struggling attempt for air, each overheated exhale humid and fast against his pulsepoint. “Okay. Alright. I am Emmet and you are alright.”

“Whe…” gasping, deadweight. “Lady Irida…Cal–” he was gearing up for another panic attack, Emmet could feel it in his bones, the way his muscles twitched and jumped beneath his hot skin. “Who’re…? Em?” A nurse stepped forward, mindful of the large Pokemon towering over him, a promise in his sympathetic expression and a needle in his hand.

“This will help.”

Hidden and still beneath hospital sheets and ice packs, Ingo was nearly a stranger. Still Emmet stayed with him. It did not matter that Ingo had not recognized him. It did not matter that he ran. He was sick. Confused.

And it was Emmet’s fault.

Gently, as though he were made of glass, he traced the myriad scars. Some he knew. Some he didn’t. A nurse pushed another round of cool fluids in an attempt to stem the tide of whatever it was ravaging Ingo. The sound of heels clacking on the tile heralded the fall of tears from his eyes.

“Emmet, I came as quick as I could.” Elesa framed his face in her soft hands, urging him to look at her. “Arceus, are you okay? Emmet?”

“They. They do not know what is wrong.” His voice cracked. “Elesa, they. Do not know how to fix it.”

He was going to lose him and he’d only just been found.

Ingo didn’t wake when Elesa brushed her fingers over his hot, dry skin. He was an engine overheated with coals banked and burning inside the cage of his ribs like a furnace. Familiar panic gripped Emmet in its angry fist as his eyes remained fixed to Ingo’s inert face. It was hours before they saw any change, before the efforts of the hospital staff made any difference. They watched his head loll to the side and a sliver of washed out gray appear between barely parted lashes underscored by ink-dark shadows. Ingo swallowed, tongue darting out to wet chapped lips.

“Emme’– ” Breath stolen, Ingo struggled to get it back.

“You know me?”

“Mm.” Ingo didn’t need to be reminded that he’d run from his brother in a blinding panic almost a day ago. It wouldn’t help anyone, least of all the pair of them. Instead, he pressed a cold cloth against the galloping pulse in his neck, offering up a spoonful of ice chips for his dry throat. “‘M…”

“You don’t need to talk.” Soft and low, Elesa smoothed his hair back, pressing her lips to his blazing forehead.

An alarm chirped, some monitor attached to one of the many leads, lines, tracing a map that Emmet could not follow.

HEY EPIC FANS!!!! ⬇️

(Angst under the cut)

So I was rewatching some clips from Bridgerton (specifically Queen Charlotte) and it made me think about Odysseus and Penelope Growing old. Odysseus’ mind escaping him in his old age. At first it’s just a few moments Penelope notices he’s not entirely there, but as he grows closer to the end, his moments of lucidity are few and far between. He has confabulations of his past, of men in his palace when there are none. Penelope and Telemachus try their best to help him, but rumors quickly spread of the mad king.

One particular instance that seals this suspicion is when Ody mistakes Telemachus for one of Penelope’s old suitors and absolutely flys off the handles. Luckily Telemachus is a strong enough man he can hold his own against his aging father, but it shakes him up. It’s the first time his own father didn’t recognize him.

Though, as his condition progresses, his wife and son learn better how to adjust. For example Pen will sometimes hand Odysseus a baby doll (a trick used on irl dementia patients btw) and tell him to take care of Telemachus for a while, this helps calm the man down temporarily.

More Epic Angst

It’s the middle of the night and shouting can be heard from the king’s chambers.

“Get your wretched hands off of me! I am done enacting your vile fantasies!”

It’s happening again.

“Odysseus, my king, my love, it is I, Penelope.”

But he couldn’t recognize that. Not now anyway.

“You are not! You are not! Cease veiling yourself as my wife you evil witch!”

Despite his wife’s gentle words, he couldn’t see her as he rocked in the fetal position; squinting his eyes shut as if he were a child hiding from an imaginary monster.

“Why must you take joy in tormenting me! I just want to go home! I just want to be home!”

The poor man cried in vain. And all his wife could do was weep. For she could not help her husband escape the prison of his confabulated captor. She could not free him from the prison of his own mind.

Dad telling my husband he has a string of cheese hanging off his upper lip:

You've got some iceworms in your mustache...

Took Dad to his monthly war vet meeting. One of the Korean War Vets said how nice it was to have a young lady attend the meeting.

Oh she's A LOT older than she looks!

A lovely read...❤

The Curl of Time

Today at Longreads, Sarah Stankorb confronts a lifetime of literally outrunning her angry, alcoholic father as she attempts to find care for him and her mother, both of whom are struggling with dementia. 

Each evening until I moved off for college, my father drunkenly slurred and screamed, chasing me around the house until I caged myself in my room and he pounded outside. I’d stayed there safe, until his attention refocused on my mother, then I’d run out and draw his anger toward me again. I was faster, could outrun him.

Read the full essay. 

Meanwhile in 1987, Ines adding more drugs in Mikkel's mug:

c'mmon, poor Mikkel lost most of his memories, he didn't remember all that untill the last day of his life

#i love them too, and it's all really sad

Imagine how it must have felt for Mikkel to slowly watch his son grow into that boy who was his cool older friend when he was a kid, the boy who took him into those caves and abandoned him in the past. And yet he never held it against Jonas.

Bruh I can't sleep because I'm have been thinking about Cowgirl Ripley 8 & Call 🤠

And other stuff but can't remember them rn bruh 💀

Gonna sketch this idea at work or home🤧