43rd ♫ | one more time, one hundred more tries

[eudemonics]

THE MEMORY SHARE MEME
(i want every single person here to appreciate how hard it was to find a gif that adequately conveyed the idea of this meme)

HOW IT WORKS:
⍟ Post your character's toplevel with their name, canon and anything you might need to warn for in their memories.
⍟ Post a handful of memories from your character's past -- you can write them up or just links to clips and scenes, DO IT HOWEVER YOU LIKE.
⍟ SURPRISE, EVERYONE CAN SEE EACH OTHER'S MEMORIES so tag around as you like
⍟ GET EMOTIONALLY TERRORIZED FOR THE HOLIDAYS

Comments

Goro Akechi | Persona 5 | all the persona 5 spoilers

[raygunner]

under top levels because that looks nicer

[raygunner]

I smell the blood of a petty little coward

Let him in.

[ The voice is muffled behind an office door. Akechi waits patiently, dressed in a tan coat and holding a silver briefcase. He looks younger, face softer, his stance and body language only a little less self-confident. As he waits, he fidgets with the clasp of his briefcase. He looks almost worried, unsure.

A woman walks over, heels clicking on the floor—she's an assistant, and she regards Akechi with something close to disdain as she opens the door. Akechi walks in, and the door silently closes behind him.

Sitting behind a desk, papers neatly organized on the surface, is a bald man with a goatee and orange-tinted glasses. He's reading a piece of paper, and it's several moments before he deigns to lower it and regard Akechi with something close to disinterest. Akechi smiles politely, and waits. ]

How can I help you?

I understand you have big plans for this country. [ The man raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't stop Akechi. ] I have skills that can be very useful, Shido-san.

And what could a fifteen-year-old possibly offer me?

[ The memory fades, in and out of other ones. Akechi, face hidden by a black mask, using Loki to murder people inside the Metaverse... And weaved in and out of the memories is a distinct feeling: hatred. ]

[raygunner]

If I could kill you I would

[ The elevator doors open into a hallway.

Akechi walks with purpose. There's tension in the air, mingled with excitement. He stops outside a room guarded by a policeman, and gives a polite and restrained, if nervous, smile. It doesn't match the confident way he holds himself. ]

May I ask that you accompany me? Going in unarmed to interrogate a murderer makes me uncomfortable…

[ The guard nods, and Akechi's smile grows. The guard opens the door, and they step inside. Sitting, beaten and drugged, is Akira Kurusu. He looks like hell, and he sits slumped slightly forward. At the corner of the table, the guard stops, back turned to Akechi. It's a mistake: Akechi is lightning-fast as he grabs the gun from the guard and holds it at him. ]

What're you—

[ Akechi pulls the trigger. The guard falls, dead. Akechi watches, detached, and Akira's suddenly sitting up straighter. ]

I owe you for all of this... Thanks. [ He doesn't look at Akira as he speaks. The excitement in the air grows. There's no remorse, none. ] That's right. You and your little friends were vital to our plan. And now, it will be completed. [ He finally looks at Akira, expression blank. ] Your popularity truly was quite stunning. That just made using you all the more worthwhile...

[ He adjusts his gloves and turns to fully face Akira. ]

Have you finally pieced it all together? [ He walks closer to Akira, whose eyes are wide but whose mouth is shut. Shock, maybe. Fear, he hopes. Akechi turns the gun on Akira.

And he smiles. It looks wrong, it doesn't meet his eyes. The best word for it is... deranged. Unhinged. ]

Case closed... This is how your “justice” ends. [ His finger tightens on the trigger... And he pulls it. Blood pours down Akira's face, and his eyes are wide still. He falls onto the table, motionless.

Akira Kurusu is dead. ]

[raygunner]

Karma's gonna come collect your debt

[ The atmosphere here is different. It's cold and wrong, and things don't seem... real. Not completely. For one, only cosplayers dress like the people in this memory. Looking at them from above, it's not really possible to distinguish who's who, unless you know the people in the memory. Akechi watches, and waits until Kurusu turns around.

He jumps down, and even Akechi's dressed differently. He's dressed like, well... A prince, with a tengu-like red mask. ]

Long time no see.

[ The memory shifts, and suddenly, Akechi's on his knees. The others look... tired. Worn out. But determined. Their resolve pisses him off, and Akechi wants to… ]

I'll kill you... You're all gonna die...! [ he snarls, bitter hatred coating every syllable he spits out.

The blonde, pigtailed girl in red speaks up, ] Will you please stop?! You're fighting the wrong people! We both hate the same guy! Why do we have to go against each other?!

[ He isn't listening. He can't. His rage is roaring inside his head, and the memory is… confused. Akechi doesn't want to listen. If he listens-- ]

You don't hate Joker, do you?

[ It makes him angry. Worse than angry. He wants to destroy them, utterly and completely. ]

Why am I inferior to you...?! I was extremely particular about my life, my grades, my public image, so someone would want me around! I am an ace detective... a celebrity! But you... you're just some criminal trash living in an attic! So how...?! How does someone like you have things I don't?! How can such a worthless piece of trash be more special than me?!

Look inside yourself, [ Akira says, and that anger and hatred and sense of worthlessness threatens to explode. ]

Don't give me that cliché bullshit!

[ Akechi grips his head for a moment. And it's just a moment, but his appearance changes: from prince to assassin clad in black.

The memory shifts again. Akechi's expression is twisted behind his mask, and he's grinning in a way that doesn't look quite right. Somehow, though... it fits. It fits him in his rage and despair. ]

Justice? Righteous? Keep that shit to yourselves! You and your teammates piss me off! You're going down... I'll destroy you! Go down with me!

[ He's laughing, laughing, and it's raw and absolutely insane. In other words: Goro Akechi has lost it. ]

Now! Let's see you drop dead one at a time, in front of your precious friends! I will kill you! Destroy you! Crush you...!

[ The memory ends there. ]

[raygunner]

fire inside your head, your heart

[ Goro Akechi, clad in black, kneels defeated before the Phantom Thieves. A prince, knocked off his throne. ]

I know I've had enough, [ he says, resigned. Defeated, in body and mind and heart. He's quiet for a moment, because there are too many thoughts for him to keep them completely straight. He could have done it, could have... could have gotten everything he wanted. Could have watched Shido fall, far and hard. Finally, he speaks once more. ]

... You're so lucky. Lucky to be surrounded... by teammates who acknowledge you... And once Shido confesses all his crimes, you'll all be heroes. As for me, people will find out my past deductions were just charade. My fame and trust will vanish.

... I see, [ the cat says. ] So you were turning people psychotic, then solving the cases yourself. And you did that by joining forces with Shido.

In the end... I couldn't be special...

[ The memory fades... but it's only a few moments later that it returns. And there are two of him; one is still the kneeling Akechi, consumed by anger and despair and hatred. The other wears little expression.

The other Akechi draws a gun, and points it at the real one. He looks at the rest of the Thieves. ]

I'll deal with the rest of you later. [ Akechi makes a startled sound, and it grabs the attention of the cognitive Akechi. ] Captain Shido's orders... He has no need for losers. Well... this just moves up the plan a little. He was going to get rid of you after the election anyway.

What...?!

Did you truly believe you'd be spared after all the murders you undertook? Don't tell me... Were you actually feeling good about having someone rely on you for once?

[ The scene shifts, and the cognitive Akechi--he's been shot. Akechi shoots at a box, and a wall shoots up between them. Putting up walls, even at the very end... ]

Hurry up and go, [ Akechi tells them.

A moment later, the sound of a gunshot pierces the air. ]

Yuuri Wakasa | School-Live! | a metric shitton of school-live spoilers fam

[serrata]

i - for i must die for what i've done

[serrata]

[ the handy dandy imgur link version

The memory seems to start in medias res, almost. It's a snippet only there as if to give context for what happens later. It starts with Kurumi scrambling away from the door of a classroom -- an elementary school classroom, by the looks of things so clearly not Megurigaoka. It's not entirely clear what has her so panicked to start with until you get a good look at the classroom door. There's a barricade of desks set up there, keeping anyone from getting in or out and a sea of tiny, grasping, rotting hands are all reaching out and grabbing at whoever's unfortunate to get too close.

Kurumi leaps to her feet and turns to the rest of the girls there. Miki, Yuki... and Yuuri. This is a dead end, Kurumi insists, and they have to go back. Yuuri cries out in protest -- can't they hear it? Can't they hear her in there? But her pleas fall on deaf ears and Miki and Kurumi just stare at her in concern. Yuki, at least, seems to indulge her and calls out for any survivors to try and make their presence known if they can. Eventually though, she just shakes her head sadly. There's no one in there. And for now, Yuuri is forced to concede.

They stay only long enough for Yuki to put the stuffed bear she's been carrying next to the classroom door Kurumi had scrambled away from and the memory fades into something else as the girls start to walk away...

It's a cold, dark night. The kind of black-as-pitch sky you only get in the very earliest hours of the morning, before the sun's started to rise. There's a biting wind drifting through the streets and it's bringing with it unsettling noises. Shuffling, the sound of hungry moans in the distance. This place is very clearly not safe.

And Yuuri, reasonably enough, looks terrified. She's standing before what looks like a school building that's only just managing to stand the test of time with shattered windows and battered outer walls. Yuuri's shaking and it's difficult to tell if it's cold or fear contributing to it. ]

She's there... she's in there, I heard her, didn't I? [ she's muttering softly to herself to try and keep her bravado going. ] So why did everyone else say they couldn't?

[ She swallows hard and squares her shoulders to properly steel herself. ]

Just wait for me, okay? Onee-chan's coming to find you.

[ Gripping a flashlight tight in her hands, Yuuri steps over the threshold of the school entrance and something... changes. Things start to blur together at the edges and bleed into themselves and even the image of Yuuri inside her own memory becomes a little indistinct and hard to focus on. Like even Yuuri herself has difficulty keeping this night straight in her head.

'Rii-nee?' a tiny voice calls from somewhere in the upper levels of the school and Yuuri whips around. ]

Ruu-chan...!

[ It doesn't look like bravado's an issue anymore. Yuuri goes tearing up stairs, staggering and tripping but never losing her footing.

Her desperation is so palpable it's almost sad. Only when she's on the second floor does she finally slow down, panting for breath. It's so quiet here that the silence is oppressive almost, broken up only by Yuuri's soft gasps for breath. She makes her way down the hall, hugging herself for comfort and, unusually for her, paying no mind to the stuffed bear sat on the floor that she passes on her way to one of the classroom doors.

If you listen -- and listen hard -- you can hear something behind it. Shuffling, scratching and hungry groans that sound more animal than human. But it's coming through like a channel on a badly tuned radio, fuzzy, distant and distorted.

Yuuri stares at the door for a long, long moment and it almost seems like she's going to turn tail and head back downstairs. But she swallows hard and steels herself and finally reaches out a trembling hand to slowly ease the classroom door open.

And then with no warning, the memory cuts to black there. ]

ii - come now, gather round, don't sneak off and go home

[serrata]

[ imgur version ]

'It's so dark... Rii-san, can I switch the lights on?'

[ It's obvious from the moment it begins where this memory is set. It's just Yuki, Kurumi and Yuuri stood in the doorway of a badly ransacked library. There's books on the floor, some of the shelves are battered and damaged and almost all the windows are smashed.

This is Megurigaoka Academy. No doubt about it.

With Yuki close to her side, and Kurumi with her trusty shovel surveying the room, Yuuri gives a thoughtful hum. ]

Well, we're doing a test of courage, aren't we? So let's leave them for now. Make sure you watch your step, Yuki-chan.

'Okay!'

[ With Kurumi guarding the door, Yuuri and Yuki pick their way through the glass and books strewn all over the floor and over to one of the remaining shelves that's still standing. Yuuri skims her fingers over some of the spines and Yuki tilts her head curiously as she watches. ]

'What books do you want, Rii-san?'

[ Yuuri pulls a few books off the shelf. ] Just some new textbooks and a few workbooks.

[ Yuki visibly winces and then forces an awkward smile. ]

'Y--yeah, you're really studious...'

Hm? Oh no, Yuki-chan, these books are for you.

[ The smile Yuuri turns on her is bright, warm and bone-chillingly terrifying. ]

Well you did say you were having trouble with math, didn't you?

[ Understandably qualing in the face of this, Yuki takes a step back. And then she turns tail entirely and starts hurrying off down the rows of shelf with the excuse of wanting to pick up some manga for herself. And the way Yuuri jolts from playful teasing to sudden, sharp concern is almost startling. ]

Yuki-chan! What did I tell you about running off on your--

[ Something groans.

Yuuri draws in a short, sharp breath and whips around. Her eyes are suddenly wide and the look of fright on her face is frankly uncharacteristic of her. She turns the flashlight she's carrying on and slowly turns it in the direction the noise was coming from. Just in time to catch the sight of something human-shaped, with an awkward, shuffling gait stomping its way through the shelves in the direction Yuki had just gone running.

Yuuri freezes and all the colour drains from her face, leaving her white as a sheet. But before she even has time to react, the memory fades... ]

Ardyn Izunia | FFXV | entire game spoilers

[scourgingstars]

[in subthreads because it's neater, also be advised of episode ignis spoilers for the canon route in the second prompt]

I. magna insomnia

[scourgingstars]

[Some tales were told not in explicit words, but in thought and feeling, in ancient history brought forth from dusty historical tomes and ancient oil paintings breathed to life from the walls upon which they hung in reverence. Some memories were fractured and scattered, like the shards of a mirror broken in a fit of rage.]

[This was the tale of one discarded, who discarded such memories in turn.]

[A terrible war was waged in fire and the pitch-black malice of a god's wrath given form, a shining silver city brought to ruin beneath the crush of a meteor that shook the planet to its core to leave a miles-long crater and twisted rock formations in the continent. The magnificent and advanced civilization of Solheim was destroyed utterly, a god of fire struck down upon a volcano, and a single mortal hero at the end of it all. Amidst the ravaged lands of his home stood the victorious healer-swordsman, with Gilgamesh ever a shield at his side.]

[In the last gasps of the Astral War and the days following its conclusion, the people would sing of the planet's dawning hope after the deepest despair. The scenery blurred and changed in crackling white noise, as if one memory couldn't be held for more than a moment--and yet the song remained clear, in countless ever-changing voices. A holy canticle, a prayer to the savior promised to them by the gods themselves.]

[Deus dormit
Et liberi ignem faciunt
Numquam extinguunt
Ne expergisci possit]

[The fading embers of warfare were overtaken by blurred color and muffled sounds as if a hand had slipped from a radio dial in between signals. Remnants of humanity limped from the wreckage and persisted; the nights brought with them fear and trepidation, warded away by torchlight and sacred runes carved into stone havens in the wilderness. And where once had been grand cities of magitek, simpler towns and outposts gradually arose from the ashes. In the wake of a world scarred and ravaged by the lingering plague that turned children of nature into monsters dwelling in darkness...their hero wandered the world healing those afflicted by the blight they had named 'Starscourge'. His arrival was always heralded by celebration, and the healer always met the joy of a suffering populace with a bright smile. It was without hesitation that he took the plague from others' shoulders, their gratitude making his own burden that much lighter. As long as it is only I who should carry such a thing, he believed deep in his heart, then that is a price I will pay for this world's safety. For his twin brother Izunia, for Gilgamesh, for every casualty of the war he had not been able to save. It would be only Ardyn Lucis Caelum who bore the wrath of a god, taking it from others with a gentle touch and compassionate words.]

[Omnia dividit
Tragoedia coram
Amandum quae]

[He had been chosen for this; he would be leader to the new monarchy which bore the twins' name of 'Lucis'. And not just chosen, but Chosen as the King of Light who would save the world, spending every waking hour traveling with Gilgamesh who the future monarch had cheerfully declared would become Shield of the King. (There is no other I would trust more, Ardyn said as he clasped the swordsman's hands in his own, and oh had he regretted such a sentiment in the centuries to come.) It was Ardyn and his divine healing which would banish the Starscourge once and for all, of that he was certain and refused to think otherwise. Of course it would be him, blessed by the gods as he was. A king should have been one to bear the suffering of his people, so that they could smile as happily as they did when the scourge was lifted from their skin.]

[So he thought it no more than an occupational hazard, when black marks manifested on his skin now and again. Ignored when food and drink began to lose its taste, and hid the fact that he could no longer sleep or touch the sacred ground of havens laid down by the Oracle. Dodged Gilgamesh's questions when red hair faded into bright violet, hazel eyes turning an inhuman yellow; he even brushed aside the swordsman's fears when the future Shield felt the chill of death in Ardyn's hands. When sunlight itself began to set his body to ache, he wore heavy layers and a long coat; when the pallid face in the mirror was stained with the manifested plague he carried, Ardyn struggled to hide it until the pressure behind his eyes would recede and the markings vanish for a time.]

[As long as it was him, everything would be fine. The people were counting on him, the gods would protect their Chosen King, and there was no need to let his friend--or, Astrals forbid, his brother--worry over something like that. So he made excuses, said nothing, and continued his work as a healer even as a malicious and directionless hatred began to twist in the miasma that ran where blood once had. The healer of the people began to resent the subjects he so loved; did they not see what blind faith had gotten them once before? All of Solheim had believed in the Infernian as Lucis now chose to believe in Ardyn, and that began to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Was humankind's memory so short and their will so weak that they refused to stand on their own? Did they so badly need a savior, a protector either mortal or divine?]

[Pathetic, he'd thought, somewhere between pity and frustration.]

[Et nocte perpetua
In desperatione
Auroram videre potest
Mane tempus expergiscendi.]

[Ardyn no longer remembered all the precise events of his final day in the new capital city that the brothers named 'Insomnia'--so the sight was twisted and distorted, less watercolor and more as though it were a photograph that had been charred and burned away in places. The everpresent melody and words sung in prayer faded and cut out to be replaced by the muffled sounds of a crowd that couldn't be clearly seen. Even barely understood, the tone was one of shouted anger, of calling for blood and justice. Straining to listen carefully enough would make it possible to hear the only distantly remembered cry of the Insomnian people:]

[Kill the Accursed.]

[Two brothers stood in the city of Insomnia, but they were no longer the near-mirror images they once were. One stood tall, a navy blue scarf wound loosely around his neck and wine-red hair a bit longer now, falling in his face. A sword hung loosely in his hand, stained with blackened plague instead of blood. The other twin, held back by a pair of terrified soldiers--the very same scourge staining his face and making his eyes almost seem to glow, coming off his body like smoke. Fury and agony colored the half-formed scene, with a pulse of nameless and feral rage burning like a migraine. Ardyn (or the thing that looked like him) violet-haired and yellow-eyed, snarled something that was more bestial noise than words even if the meaning was clear: the second one of his captors' hands slipped, he would take off the head of the man who had just murdered him.]

['How could it not have died?' muttered one in horror, gripping Ardyn's left arm as if restraining a rabid coeurl. The one on his right looked to the red-haired man with the scourge-stained blade, and said the words that caused even the black blood of a daemon in human form to run cold.]

['What are we to do, Your Majesty?']

[Izunia blinked, looking dimly from his blade to Ardyn to the soldier that had spoken. And somewhere, buried deep beneath an ink-dark ocean of malice and mindless hatred, a voice screamed from far away no, no you idiots, I'm Ardyn, I'm the one you should be calling that, can't you tell the difference-? Tell them, Izunia, tell them I'm your brother, tell me why you tried to strike me down-! But the hazel-eyed brother's demeanor changed in a second; his stance relaxed, expression the picture of steady confidence.]

[He became 'Ardyn Lucis Caelum', and in doing so replaced his brother right in front of the would-be savior's blighted eyes.]

['...The Draconian's word is absolute.' came a startling affectation of Ardyn's cadence. 'Execution, just as with any daemon.']

[Kill the Accursed, Usurper, monster, daemon, our savior will protect us-]

[Firing squad. Beheading. Hanging, crucifixion, drowning, poison--again and again and again they executed him, and every time he simply came back as though nothing had happened at all. That horrible monstrous shrieking persisted, and under layers of indecipherable screaming only the small shard of humanity drowning in the miasma knew what he was struggling to convey: screaming for his Shield in anguished rage.]

[GILGAMESH, PLEASE--YOU PROMISED, YOU SWORE TO PROTECT ME, KILL HIM MAKE IT STOP-]

[But nobody came, and 'Ardyn Lucis Caelum' broke beneath the weight of the 'Accursed' at the final betrayal of one and all he had ever loved.]

[Things abruptly went black, and the next time Ardyn was lucid and aware...it was quiet. Dark and cold, an enclosed room of stone with the sound of waves on a rocky shoreline the only thing to break the stillness. The Umbral Isle of Angelgard, a prison housing a single occupant's weakened body covered in blackened blood and yellow eyes that nearly glowed in the shadows.]

[...So. This was what resulted from pathetic people clinging to any small light in the encroaching dark. People who cringed away from mere shadow, who begged help and followed whoever seemed willing to give such assistance...then cast their savior aside like garbage once he was of no use to them.]

[It had happened to Ifrit, hadn't it? Ungrateful mortals, Solheim had been full of them and now Lucis was no different. Gilgamesh, a coward who abandoned his charge. And Izunia, (a wave of freshly renewed hatred crept into his mind and ran down his face like frigid rain) Izunia, Izunia, Izunia, even if Ardyn was to be trapped here for all eternity then he would never forget the name of the one who had damned him and cast him out. Would remember his face in every reflection, would keep his name as his twin had taken 'Ardyn'.]

[And someday, the beloved dawn those worthless mortals had raised their voices in melody to would be gone, because not a single one of them deserved it. Bahamut, the Crystal, the usurper king and all he stood for...if they thought Ardyn a monster, they'd not seen anything yet.]

II. a retainer's resolve

[scourgingstars]

['I swore an oath to stand with Noct and keep him safe.']

[The words alone caused Ardyn to hesitate, arrogant smile faltering to something...confused. The black-purple flame of darkness incarnate flickered and faded as he tried to comprehend this, failing like one struggling to gain footing on the rain-slicked stone underfoot. What kind of person actually followed through on such ridiculous promises? How absurd...mortals were selfish, cutting and running at the first sign of peril. Obviously Ignis should have just accepted the offer to come to Niflheim--even if it had just been Ardyn playing a game of baiting Noctis to the Crystal, obviously logic would have led the retainer to take the first opportunity to get out of the miserable hellhole that had once been Altissia, leaving his king behind.]

[...That was what retainers did, in Ardyn's experience.]

['Whatever it takes, I will protect him-!']

[Ardyn barely had enough time to notice what was in the adviser's hand before the scene erupted into bright light and agonized screaming. Ah--now that was funny. The Ring of the Lucii, the power of the Lucian line which rejected the unworthy and arrogant who would seek its power. The very ring worn by Ardyn's own brother, as well as countless other monarchs over the generations. He'd really die just for a chance at helping this miserable excuse for a prince?]

[That thought made the low chuckle in his throat sound terribly bitter, a current of cold jealousy running amidst the hatred and bloodlust that had become Ardyn's ordinary life in these past ages.]

[...And then it worked, striking the would-be Founder King utterly speechless. Ignis Scientia stood burning with fire and rebellion, warping back to an open space before the altar and scowling at Ardyn in a wordless challenge.]

Well-

[That loyalty made him sick to even witness, and he answered that challenge by warping himself in a streak of magenta, inches away from the adviser.]

-they've shown you their favor after all.

[A burst of the same corrupted darkness was thrown forth from Ardyn's hand, and the fight was on in an instant. Despite all the power Ignis was throwing around as if it were nothing at all, Ardyn...didn't even seem to be trying. It simply wasn't worth it to him, and he'd not even drawn a sword fromt the Armiger. Let the idiot retainer know his sacrifice was worth nothing, that Ardyn couldn't be killed or even wounded with all the strength of the Lucii and the ring. Every so often he'd throw out a bitterly cold taunt, if you're so keen on keeping him safe I'd like to see you try, how lucky to be surrounded by such skilled advisers-]

[Oh, he hated this. Hated Ignis, Gladiolus, Prompto, and hated Noctis for daring to have friends that would go to such absurd lengths for his protection.]

Why not cease this futile charade? Your appeals to hope and loyalty will all come to naught in the end!

[...Ardyn knew the answer. Knew it as well as he knew his own name, as he knew the color of the sky, as he knew that love and camaraderie were the most well-crafted lies the world had ever seen. His brother, his Shield, an entire kingdom he had fought and suffered for--'Ardyn Lucis Caelum' had been nothing to them, and so why should he ever think trust was more than a nice fairytale people told themselves to push back the encroaching darkness of endless solitude?]

[Ah, but if this went on Ardyn really might kill him out of spite alone. That wouldn't do, not after all this. Better to let the adviser live to realize how things like that truly ended; in pain and despair.]

[Back on the imperial airship, Ardyn just...calmly dusted off his coat, wrung rainwater out of the ends of his scarf, and calmly set himself to ignoring the question of whether Gilgamesh would ever have burned body and soul for his own would-be king's protection.]

[It didn't matter. He already knew the answer.]

III. somnus ultima

[scourgingstars]

Creaking hinges of heavy double doors and the click of footsteps on marble echoed through the Insomnian Citadel's throne room. Finally, finally beneath a blighted sky the time had come to finish this. And just in case the prince had forgotten what was at stake...Ardyn had so helpfully cast illusion magic to remind him.]

[From the ceiling hung four bodies ravaged by the revolting ichor of Starscourge, skin pallid and eyes solid black. Nyx Ulric, the man who had brought Niflheim's assault on that very city to an end. Iedolas Aldercapt, who had so desperately sought power and orchestrated the capital's fall in the first place. Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, the pure and holy Oracle who Noctis had loved and Ardyn had murdered.]

[And, of course, Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII. Noctis' father, another descendant of this miserable line.]

I'm afraid you're out of luck.

[The very first words Ardyn had ever said to the final king of the line, echoed darkly ten years later in a voice that didn't even conceal sadistic delight. He'd waited so long for this their final encounter. Longer than you could ever know. But...oh, it wouldn't do to have this be an unfair fight. No, no, not at all.]

[Tonight, the dreams of the blood royal come to an end.]

[A flash of the darkness that made up Ardyn's body and soul would be enough to sideline the other three. Killing them would be pointless now; Noctis was as sharply focused as the blades he carried, and any small chip might yet prove irreparable now.]

Don't- [Ardyn said in all sincerity] -let us down.

[Twin Armigers flashed in warping streaks of red and blue, on the streets of the city at first; and all throughout Ardyn taunted him, voice reveling in some sick sense of satisfaction he felt...knowing all of this was over and simply taking out two thousand years of frustration on the only target left. So you are the Chosen King...but you are a second choice, at best.]

[A replacement. Nothing more than a Chosen in place of a savior who simply hadn't done enough, who had been found unworthy when all he had wished was for the world's prosperity. Fury boiled in his head alongside something very strangely like regret, and as Ardyn shoved Noctis back he realized...he was very tired of all of this.]

Let's have it, then. You and your Crystal...against all I have become.

[What he had become. Not Ardyn Lucis Caelum, not anymore. The savior would not have watched the line's Royal Arms spin to life in red like the chambers in a revolver, would not have thrown himself at what was, in the end, a largely uninvolved child who wished to save the world as Ardyn once had. The young healer who found happiness in the safety of the people he had saved was dead and buried.]

[Only Ardyn Izunia remained, and yet as the fight collapsed to the Citadel's courtyard it was a mortal fury and rage that fell with him. Out of breath and reaching the limits of his regeneration, Ardyn brought his sword down again and again, swinging wildly at Noctis as if two thousand years of hatred would be solved if he just cut the young man in front of him to pieces.]

You think ten years is a long time?! [The snarl that left Ardyn was vicious, frustrated...and entirely human, without the daemonic shrieking this very city had once heard. All of this, all of it had been unfair. Why should Noctis have had loyal retainers, have people that loved him everywhere he went and not a single one dare turn their back on him? How dare he not know what it meant to suffer for the sake of others, how dare he call himself Chosen King when he could never understand what Ardyn had gone through struggling to be the savior he'd believed the world deserved?] It is nothing to me! I have lived in darkness for ages!

[No one could understand. No one would. Noctis had everything, and Ardyn--Ardyn Lucis Caelum, the Accursed, the Usurper, Ardyn Izunia--had nothing. Nothing but rage, and this the only change to finally focus it upon a single source.]

[...But in the end, he hadn't wanted victory. Or in a sense, victory was gained through defeat. Weapon after weapon splashed blackened blood through the air, vanishing like miasma as it went...and Ardyn either wasn't or chose not to be fast enough to counter with his own. (Even he wasn't sure which it was.)]

[Ardyn had already won. He'd won when the sun failed to come up ten years ago, and now he won outright lying on the cold ground of the Citadel as rain began to fall from a sky turned dark by the Starscourge.]

['This time...you can rest in peace. Close your eyes...forevermore.']

[So that...was the end. No vicious condemnation, no 'go to hell and stay there', just...acceptance. Perhaps even sympathy.]

[Had anyone ever shown him sympathy in two millennia?]

[Ah, he was too tired to think on it, past how strangely funny this seemed to be. All that work to get Noctis to detest him as the monster he was...and it hadn't even really worked, had it?]

[No argument came; just a quiet promise, and the vanishing of the man who had once been savior as his body faded into the miasma that it truly was.]

Kawasumi Mai | Kanon

[nojohnyouare]

[nojohnyouare]

a) come back to me

[Mai is very young in this memory -- she's eight, but hasn't grown into herself yet, short and stringy. She's sitting at the bedside of a woman who's hooked up to an IV and wearing an oxygen mask, surrounded by adults, a doctor and what must be other relatives. The monitor goes flat, but Mai doesn't notice. Mai holds her hand and sobs.]

Get better, Mommy! Please, please!

[Mai's mother's finger twitches. She raises her arm and pats a stunned Mai on the head. Mai brightens and flings herself onto her, hugging her mother as the nurse comes in and drops her tray in shock.]

[nojohnyouare]

b) i don't know which is worse

[Mai's still young in this one, being guided onto a stage in front of cameras and a live studio audience. She's led to a small box, where there's an injured bird looking pathetically up at her. The more Mai cries for the bird, the more the cameras and spotlights focus on her. The bird is healed and flies up into the studio rafters, to the gasps of the audience and the cheers of the announcer.

The memory shifts.

A rock shatters the window of their small, dark apartment. Mai flings herself into her mother's arms and sobs. They don't dare look out. They haven't checked the mail in days. The entire front outside of their apartment has been spray-painted.

Freak of nature.
Faker.
Weirdo child and undead mother.
Crook.
Whether they believe in Mai's healing power or not, the messages all boil down to one.
Monster.]

[nojohnyouare]

c) clear and lonely

[This time, Mai is a teenager, sneaking into the school through an unlocked window. She slips to her shoe locker to get her indoor shoes, grabs a hidden plastic prop sword, and walks the halls with it in hand.

Something invisible moves to the side, She turns and a window breaks. The cold air rushes in, but she doesn't seem to notice, only rushing ahead and leaping to slash it in two. As it bursts into a sparkle of light, a dark mark, like a bruise, forms on her hand.]

...This one will be harder to hide.

[But she just keeps walking the halls, leaving the broken window behind.]

Yuri | Doki Doki Literature Club

[impurifies]

[ obviously spoiler warning for DDLC and content warnings for self-harm, unreality, violence, suicide and psychological horror ]

Supergirl/Kara Zor-El | DC Super Hero Girls

[maidofmistakes]

[maidofmistakes]

a. home sweet home

[Rocks are falling in the hangar, but Kara and her parents are running inside to a ship as the red sky is covered in spiralling clouds behind them. Her father stops in front of it.

"Go, Kara, hurry!"

She doesn't need to be told twice; she leaps into the cockpit and looks behind her. They're not moving.]

Mom, Dad! Come on!

[They stay where they are. Zor-El speaks: "Sorry, Kara." Alura steps forward, but only to hook a Mnemosyne crystal on a string around Kara's neck.

"This way, I'll always be with you."]

...What do you mean?

[Kara's mother shuts the cockpit, leaving Kara alone inside the ship. She pounds helplessly on the glass.]

No! You have to come with me!

[But there's not enough space, not enough supplies. She can't take them. Before she knows it, the ship has already started its preprogrammed course.

Kara's escaped, but her planet has exploded behind her.]

Leonard Church | Red vs Blue

[motherfucking_ghost]

[Hey there are spoilers up through season 6! That's literally 10 years ago but still.]

the end is the beginning of the end

[motherfucking_ghost]

[Epsilon. The memory. And memory is the key.

Following Wash had been the only course of action he could take. The holographic storage units hummed, their lights gentle, and Epsilon...was the key. To bring down Freelancer, to remember everything that had happened--everything he had forgotten.

Everything the Alpha had ripped from itself in order to survive.

"All A.I. are based on a human mind. And the Director had a theory. He thought, if we can't copy it, we'll just have to do the next best thing."

"They...they split it?"

"Just like a human mind when it's broken; it fragments. It fractures itself to protect itself."

"They tortured it."

"Like reverse engineering a multiple personality disorder. They presented Alpha with scenario after scenario of stress and danger. When it started to fragment, they harvested those fragments."

The unit pulses, and his head pulses, flashes of light, sound, memories, memory is the key, pounding at his skull. (It's his but it's not his, it's a little bit of everything, it's him and it's Epsilon and it's Wash and make it stop.) They tortured it. They tortured a person, ripped its psyche apart for their little experiments. What does it have to do with the Meta? How do they stop--how do they make it all stop?

"Church, I need you to listen to me. Delta was the logic. He was able to figure out things before anyone else. It's why he left a message for you in a way that he knew only you could find, and in a way that let me see you getting it."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I know what you are. Even if you don't."

His body is robotic but he can apparently still simulate the feeling of a stomach in freefall just fine. Wash lines everything out, the body hopping, feeling nothing when Omega reached him, agreeing with Delta, being alive, being alive like this as a--as a ghost, obviously, him and Tex, even if nobody else--

"Church, there's no such thing as ghosts. You're one of them. You're an A.I. You...are the Alpha."

He hadn't believed Wash, of course. Couldn't. Can't. It sounds like bullshit, because he'd know, right? He'd know if he was an AI, even if he's lost the logic, the anger, the memories. (Alpha Beta Delta Gamma Eta Iota Sigma Omega Theta Epsilon) He's a ghost. Obviously. Whatever the Alpha is, it isn't him, because he's not. He can't be. He can't. He's not some tortured AI that tore itself into tiny fragments of concentrated emotion to survive the horrors, the simulated horrors that it--right? No. Not him. He's Church.

"You're not going to get all the answers you want."

Wash is a sanctimonious piece of self-righteous shit who'd banked on this whole thing, planned it out, ever since the words memory is the key had come out of Church's mouth. Like their fates had been sealed just because Delta was too smart for his own good. (Had he been that smart, that clever, once upon a time? No, because Wash is wrong.)

"Because of the trauma he's been through, he's not going to be able to access most of his functions. He may not even realize his full potential."

It's a blessing that nobody else believes, but it rankles him all the same. Talking about the trauma as if he wasn't there. And it's not even his trauma, it's a computer--it's some dumb computer who made all of this happen, even inadvertently. He didn't just get assigned to some nowhere backwater facility just to be kept safe even though...even though nothing ever happened unless Command or Freelancers were involved. They can't, they can't possibly trust Wash with his craziness from his crazy memory-filled AI, even if he knows, even if he knew everything because Epsilon is the memory and memory is the key and Wash knew all along what happened to Alpha but had to hide it.

He's just Church.

"It's your fight more than anyone else's!"

"I don't care what you say, no, it isn't."

"Church, you'll never get another shot at fixing all of this. I know you don't believe what I've told you, but you need to ask yourself: what if I'm right? If I am, or if you have any doubts, not finding out will haunt you for the rest of your life. Not just finding out about you, but finding out about everyone close to you as well. It's your choice. What's it going to be?"

He has to fix this. If he has any shot of fixing this, he has to take it. Right? He doesn't want to admit to the doubts, the not-there feeling of illness and rising bile that doesn't exist, because that would mean not being sure of himself. He's Church. He's Church. The Alpha is something, someone else. Tex didn't die because of him. Everyone isn't stuck here doing crazy bullshit because of him. Flowers didn't die because of him. The Meta hasn't killed because of him. He didn't spend over a year alone because he's, what, a dangerous piece of technology? Because he's evidence? Why not just store him away with Epsilon, huh, why not just rip the rest of him up, why--why--

He chooses doubt. He has to know. He has to find out. Because Wash hit the nail on the head--if there's a chance to find out what the hell's going on with him and everyone around him, and he doesn't take it? He'll never stop wondering. He'll never stop thinking about it, even when he tries not to. Every time something happens, the little thought is going to eat away at him, is this because of me?

Wash's head is a nightmare of trauma, attempts to organize skeletons back into closets alphabetically, to file shadows away numerically. He can feel the ley lines of Epsilon here before and does not follow them. It's different, this time, to be in someone's head. Because he knows. They both know, now, even if they won't admit it, that this is it, that this is a suicide mission. He tries to ignore the darkness of instability lurking around every one of Wash's corners, tries not to touch, but memories come unbidden at the Counselor's voice--at the Director's voice. He knows these voices, through Wash, and yet it's so...distant. He should know them. Right? He should know them, but he doesn't, because he's broken, because he couldn't live with his own memories and pried them off for someone else to deal with.

"How much time do you need?"

"Whatever you can get me. When the EMP goes off--"

"When it goes off, I'll be fine. It only affects computers, remember? And I? Am a motherfucking ghost."

It's his cue. He jumps from Washington's head to the Meta's, and at first it's a cacophony of noise that threatens to drown out his every thought before he has it. But the noise starts to settle into voices.

Alpha. He's here. We missed you.

Time slows to a crawl. These multicolored beings, these fragments, these AI, they embrace his presence with such fervent acceptance that he nearly jumps back out. Tex. (Beta.) Tex is here. He finally found her after all this time. They have time. They have seconds of time, but it stretches out by the power of AI, of thought faster than light. He knows them all, but he doesn't. He doesn't know them, but they fit against him, no matter how corrupted or hollowed out or twisted or flame-licked, they fit in the holes of him he never knew he had.

The Meta's mind buckles in the chaos of all these voices and all these AI, and they know what's coming, because the EMP has gone off, because they don't have any time left, so they might as well spend it together.

He's never felt so complete.

He never realized he hadn't been complete.]

Takumi | Fire Emblem: Conquest | CW: suicide, body horror

[tacomeme]

When everything fell apart

[tacomeme]

[ Corrin was back. True, Takumi didn't really remember his elder brother, but still, Mother and his elder siblings were so happy. So, he would try to get along with him. Even as doubt ate at his heart. Corrin grew up in Nohr. He didn't know their ways. He could be a spy. Still, Takumi wanted to try- even if it meant being replaced at the second prince. Replaced in his Mother's heart. He would endure, somehow.

Then, everything fell apart. The sword Corrin brought into their borders exploded, killing their mother, killing so many people in the city. His brother went mad with the guilt, transforming into a beast, threatening to kill even more. if it had been just been on Takumi he would have killed the bastard right then and there, but Ryoma held him back as Azura sang her song, calming the monster. But Takumi was not fooled, screaming out his grief at the intruder in his life. The thief that would take everything from him: his family, his place, his country.

Later, when Corrin joined with the Nohrians, he had to wonder: was it because I yelled at him? Because I told him to leave? Guilt and shame at chasing away the person Mother had wanted so badly to save... guilt, but also hate. Corrin fleeing only proved him right. Corrin had taken everything.

And he would take everything back from him. And it was that boiling hate that invited something in...]

Rin Okumura | Blue Exorcist

[flamingprick]

(Spoilers up to current canon! Memories under this header are coming!)

Spoilers for the Kyoto arc (chapter 32)

[flamingprick]

[It was the end. The Impure King was bearing down on them, suffocating him and Suguro. Kuro was...well. Kuro was a demon, hopefully he would be okay. But for humans (and part-humans) like himself and Suguro, there was no hope. The reeking gas of the Impure King would rot them away to nothing as soon as Suguro's barrier fell.

And with each ticking moment, that barrier came a moment closer to falling.

Rin was out of ideas. He needed his fire to burn away the rot, but he still couldn't draw his sword. His fear of accidentally killing everyone with his flames was stronger than his fear of dying of the rot. It left him unable to do anything but stand there in horror, watching as the world collapsed around him.

And then Suguro is telling him to run while the barrier holds, to get out of the way of the Impure King. To save himself.

To let Suguro die alone.

But Rin can't do that. He can't. Even if this situation is hopeless, he can't let Suguro die alone. He can't give up and run away, leaving Kyoto to the mercy of the Impure King. He has to try.

After all, he hasn't gotten the answer to his question yet.

"Why was I saved?"]

Asgore Dreemurr | Undertale

[journalname]

i. days long past

[journalname]

[You find yourself outside.

It's nowhere recognizable, some open field near a towering stone castle. The construction looks old, like it was built to withstand invasions rather than to glitter and look pretty. Down here, though, a small goat monster is facing off against a larger one. The elder looks rather like Asgore, but his flowing mane is auburn rather than blonde.

The adult is sending a steady pattern of fire at the child, but they're large and slow. Easily dodged, and for the most part the child is indeed dodging them. But he's panting with the effort, and eventually his concentration wavers; he stumbles and trips headlong into a flame, yelping. The older monster cancels the attack immediately, and goes to help the now-sniffling child to his feet.]

Come now. You're alright.

I don't wanna do this anymore. [The child rubs his sleeve over his eyes. His voice, so young, isn't recognizable.] Why do I have to learn to fight, anyway?

You are not learning to fight, you're learning to dodge. Fighting will come later. [He pats the little goat on the back with one huge paw.] You are going to be the king one day, Asgore. That means that you must be able to protect your people, if it ever comes to that. You understand, don't you?

[Small Asgore sniffs, but he's stopped crying.] Yes, Father.

Good. [The King pats him on the head, not unkindly.] I know that you can do this, Asgore. After all, you are the future of monsters. Let's try it again.

Prompto Argentum | FFXV

[photoshooter]

Max Olguin | ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[theundertaken]

i. ghosts that we knew

[theundertaken]

[It's a gray day outside, and Max is painting on the wall of what looks like a long-abandoned coffee shop.

The project is pretty ambitious, a life-size portrait of a man with nearly shoulder-length hair, seated at some kind of game table. Nearly anybody who knows Max would recognize it as Jamie. His face and body are all sketched out, but not near finished yet; Max is pressed up against the wall, working on filling in the dark of his hair. He's humming tunelessly, no particular song.]

It would be really nice - [He says idly, half to himself and apparently half to the painting.] - if I could actually see you while I did this. Maybe you could like, fucking show up for once, or something? It's been forever, dude, where the hell is everybody?

[In a rather petulant tone, he mutters:] I always went looking for all you jerks.

[Silence, obviously. Max frowns and steps back from the wall, brush dangling loosely in his hand.]

...nah, that's shitty of me. I oughta be happy you're still alive! That's great, buddy! Good job not dying! Fucking awesome!

[He bares his teeth in something that fails to become a grin, and holds the brush up for a second like he's thinking about making a slash of black right across Jamie's face.

But he lowers it after a few seconds.]

See, this is why you've died and gone to hell.