#brrbrbrrrrr head full had FULL

[grasslandgirl]

HELLO oh I am :eyes emoji: at every single thing on that list, your wips sound so. cool! absolutely dying to hear more about leverage ot3 amnesia ideas & juno steel and the case of the lost memories, whatever you are interesting in sharing <3

oh with JOY will i talk about these jade, with JOY!!

i'm gonna put this below a cut cause i'm gonna answer and give snips for both and it's gonna get LONG bc i Cannot Shut Up xox

for the leverage ot3 amnesia au i dont have a TON written, it was more just a collection of amnesia au ideas for all three of them that i was putting down so as not to forget them- i'm such a sucker for amnesia aus where the concrete memories are gone, but the sense memories and the gut instincts, and the muscle memory remains; and i think that trope carries over really interestingly to the leverage ot3-- parker who feels herself physically relaxed around these two strange men she doesn't know, eliot who instinctively lets these strangers touch him because some part inside of him he can't remember knows they won't hurt him, etc etc

i haven't written a ton of it, but i do have a dash of eliot pov i'll slide your way <33

Everything’s fuzzy. Eliot hates when things are fuzzy. He blinks against the crust in his eyes, but whatever room he’s in is clinically bright. His mouth is dry and his whole body is a single dull ache- heavy medication. Someone’s drugging him. In the back of his mind, Eliot’s furious about that; wants to rage until everything is burned out of his system and he can think clearly again, but he can’t remember why.  Why he’s- wherever he is. Why he hates mind-numbing medication so badly. Why he needs it in the first place.  The alarms in the back of his head are clanging- telling him, danger, threats, wake up, get up, fight your way out- but Eliot has to fight to open his eyes all the way.  He’s in a hospital. And- yeah, okay, that makes sense; even if it ignites the same anxious-angry pit in his stomach the meds do. Glaring halogen ceiling lights and clinical white walls and a softly beeping heart monitor and an IV plugged into his arm (he fights the urge to rip it out, if only for the moment) and- a man. Sitting in the chair next to him.

:)))) eliot pov my beloved....... i should write more leverage fic, huh?

and then SIMILARLY juno steel and the case of the missing memories is ALSO an amnesia au ksjvnskfjvnsfb

the concept was that at some point vaguely s3 on the carte blanche, juno gets a bad hit and loses all his memories of basically the plot of the show- so he can remember everything before the case of the murderous mask- but he doesn't remember anything with the kanagawas, or meeting nureyev, or the martian pill, or losing his eye, etc etc etc

so he wakes up on this ship- off mars for the first time in his life- still in a pre-s1 headspace, with only one eye and a bunch of people he doesn't know. and rita :)

tbh i only got like. a couple eps into s3 of junoverse and then never got caught back up (whoops) so like. idk what really happens during s3 and this fic was a big project in terms of like. going back to s1 juno characterization and foiling that against who s3 juno is and who s3 peter is, and how this kind of regression effects their relationship (or lack thereof, at the outset of the fic, bc they're not together yet) and while i did and do think it's really interesting, it was also like. a big thing to undertake and i got wary of like. characterizing juno effectively in it? and i wanted to slow roll him regaining his memories in bits and pieces and was having trouble pacing that effectively, and so it ended up on a back burner i never returned to </3 alas

but maybe someday when i finally go back and relisten to and catch up on tpp i'll go back and wirte more of it! in the mean time, have some snips:

He heard soft footsteps, almost silent, sliding across the hard floors of the ship behind him. Juno froze on instinct, senses sharpening to a knife’s point as he tried to focus on the steps over the blasting audio from Rita’s stream. If Rita noticed Juno stiffening, she didn’t say anything. Even though Rita had told him, again and again, that he could trust his fellow crew members aboard the Carte Blanche, that they were a family, Juno couldn’t shake the paranoia he’d known his whole life. He didn’t trust easy, he’d learned that the hard way over and over again as all the people he’d let into his life had betrayed or abandoned him. Except Rita. If he’d ever known how, Juno had long since forgotten how to be a part of a family, and this motley crew of criminals was no exception.  The footsteps neared, and Juno’s mind- as fuzzy and slow-moving as it still was, even three days after whatever accident he’d had- spun, trying to remember where the closest gun was, just in case. In his periphery, Juno saw the figure approaching. Tall, with taller hair and narrow shoulders- Ransom.  Some of the tension dropped from Juno’s shoulders. He still didn’t trust Ransom, there was something off about the guy, something about how he watched Juno and spoke so carefully around him that made Juno think he was hiding something. But there was something- a gut feeling Juno had about him. A deja vu kind of trust and comfort and uncertainty. Juno didn’t remember where it came from, but it was there. He trusted Ransom more than anyone else on the ship, other than Rita, even though that wasn’t saying much. Ransom came close enough to catch Juno’s eye. Raised his eyebrow in a silent question- the same one every person on the ship asked him every time they saw him: do you remember me yet? Juno shrugged, trying not to dislodge Rita too much. Ransom nodded, his expression never changing from the smooth, impassive mask he always wore. It itched at Juno, that impassivity. He wanted to know what was under it, wanted to know what Ransom was really thinking in that pretty head of his. The only people who were that careful and inscrutable were people with something to hide. Juno was a PI- he should know. As Ransom turned to walk away, Juno realized that the closest entrance to Ransom’s quarters was on his blind side. That he’d gone the long way around the ship to enter and exit within view of Juno’s periphery. Something uncertain and heavy and familiar squeezed in Juno’s stomach.

[i can't help another snippet, it's taking everythig i have not to give like three more on top of this, i forgot how good this au was skjfnvsfb sav from two years ago was crazy]

“Juno,” Ransom said, his voice infuriatingly even.  “Ransom-” that was the other thing. The other muscle-sense-memory bullshit that made Juno’s head ache. It felt- wrong, every time he called him Ransom. Every time Juno saw him, or thought about him or started to say his name, he had to correct himself, make himself say Ransom; instead of the other name he had rattling around in his head. He didn’t know where it came from, or why he associated it so strongly with Ransom, but Juno was ready to fucking know who Peter Nureyev was, and why he could’t stop thinking about him. Patience wasn’t ever a strong suit for Juno.  He bit the bullet. “Why do I have another name for you in my head, Ransom?” There. The flash of- of something, of emotion Juno had been waiting for. It was brief, something Juno might’ve missed if he hadn’t been looking so closely for any kind of reaction, but it was there. Shock, uncertainty, grief, flickered across Ransom’s face before settling back into his perpetual inscrutability.  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Juno,” Ransom said, but there was a tremor, barely there, under his composed tone. Juno had shaken him, and he was going to get answers, damnit, come hell or high water. “Really?” Juno challenged, and he’d forgotten a lot, but he hadn’t forgotten this: the chase, the interrogation, cornering somebody into admitting and confessing and telling Juno what he wanted- what he needed- to hear. “Then who the hell is Peter Nureyev?” There it was again; the flickering, uncertain emotion, the disappearance of Ransom’s composure, the twist in Juno’s stomach that meant he was onto something.  “I- Juno, do you-” “No.” Ransom’s face fell, if infinitesimally. “I don’t- remember. Not really, but there’s… I don’t remember you, but I look at you and my brain says Nureyev, and I don’t fucking know why.”

:))) i just reread this whole wip- and it's almost 7k long- bc i didnt remember a lot of it and. oohohohoho. god. i was deranged.

thank you again for sending in this ask, jade!! sorry (not sorry) it got so long skjfvnksfjbn

send me the name of a wip off of this list and i'll reply with a snippet and/or my thoughts on it !!