childhood memorise

bottomtothetop  asked:

i think I already sent one in for the prompt thing (if you're still doing that) but can you either do 6 and 19 or 15 ? tq :))

Omg I wrote waaaayyy too much! Ahhh I’m a clutz!
Forgive me! (And thank you for the prompts)

6 - “Don’t you die on me”
19 - “I’m scared”


“FIRE!” Was the only warning Jeremy received before he was violently pushed into a wall by a group of stampeding girls. The party was thrown into chaos as more and more people began to notice the very real threat of a fire as the smoke from the next few rooms began to spread though the residence. Jeremy couldn’t think properly, maybe due to the abundance of teenagers pushing past him or the fact that he had just finished downing a few cans of beer after what had happened with Christine.

The Squip had turned on a few minutes after the incident and had immediately started shouting at him about his reputation, his image and his stupidity. After calming down, the Squip had suddenly felt the need to get Jeremy out of the house, to which Jeremy responded by getting drunk… again.

He wasn’t in the mood for the Squip’s antics and his attempts at getting Jeremy higher on the school map - and leaving the party at that very moment wouldn’t have benefitted him anyway. He had still asked out Christine and she had still said no. That was that, there was no point running from it - or at least, that’s what Jeremy thought the Squip was taking about.

Now, stood in the midst of all this mess, he knew exactly what had happened. The Squip must have seen a future in which a fire had started and told Jeremy to leave the building before it got out of control. God, if he had only listened. But now wasn’t the time for dawdling. Rubbish sudden sense of adrenaline, Jeremy pushed through the crowd and once everyone was through into the living room he shut the door tight, barricading it with a sofa chair. He tried to calm everyone down but it was no use, no one could hear him shout over the sound of screaming and mass panic. All the guests of the party were trying to squeeze through the tiny front door of Jake’s house which was clearly not working. At this rate, the fire would catch up to them in no time.

Spotting the large glass window through which he could see the party people running out of the house in panic, Jeremy grabbed onto the nearest throwable hard item and launched it at the window, smashing it instantly. The sound was enough the gain the attention of the majority of the crowd, now aware of the second escape route. Jeremy cleared out the remaining shards of glass before ordering half of the crowd to exit through there, an order they happily complied with.

Jeremy stood on the sofa, coughing into his cyborg costume as the fumes from the room next door began to seep through. He spotted Jake outside, dragging something on his shoulders and limping to safety. That something was clearly Rich, Jeremy could recognise that fashion sense anywhere. He knew that the girls had left the party early after the earlier fiasco with Chloe and Christine had left with Jenna to take her home safety. That meant that everyone was safe, everyone except…


He had left Michael in the bathroom after shouting at him earlier, calling him a loser under the influence of alcohol, lack of Squip and irrational thinking. God, what was he thinking?! That was his best friend for gods sake he needed to find him. He needed to know that he was ok.

Racing towards the door, Jeremy pulled out his phone and dialled the number he had memorised since childhood. He turned and watched the burning house as he ran out into the crisp cold. Everyone seemed to have made it out, which was good except… Michael wasn’t answering. Jeremy stared down at the blank screen on his phone, Michael always answered!

He tried to reason with himself. ‘Of course he wouldn’t answer, you called him a loser!’ Jeremy told himself, and it made sense. Michael had all the right in the world to be upset with him so of course he wouldn’t answer his call. He probably went straight home after their argument and was in his basement right now getting high. Still… what if…

Jeremy pulled up his iMessage and started typing frantically:

“Ok I know you’re still mad at me and you have every right to be I was an asshole and a prick and I deserve all of this but please just listen for a sec and text me back. It doesn’t have to be anything, just a blank message, a middle finger emoji I DONT CARE! Just- trust me when I say I really need to hear from you right now. Please Michael.”

A few minutes later, Jeremy was getting restless. The flames were getting bigger and bigger and there was no denying that everyone who could have gotten out had… but…

Suddenly, his phone lit up with the familiar ringtone of the Apocalypse of the Damned soundtrack, level nine to be exact. Their favourite. Jeremy’s heart did a double take when he saw the caller ID. His fingers immediately went to pick up the phone.

“MICHAEL! Oh thank god I was so worried. Something happened at the party and there’s a fire and I thought for a split second that… you… Michael?”

Michael wasn’t responding. All Jeremy could hear was a soft, crackling noise at the other end of the call.

“Michael!” He said again, a little louder.

Suddenly, a voice came thorough.

“Jeremy- can you… me?” It was faint, and there was barely anything there but Jeremy could recognise his best friend’s voice anywhere.

“Michael what’s going on? Are you ok?”

“…. it’s locked Jer-…. can’t…. closer-…. help me!” Michael sounded panicked and distressed, his voice coarse and rough.

Jeremy didn’t need another second to think. He ran back into the flaming building, ignoring all those behind him who were telling him that he was crazy, that he would die. He needed to save his best friend.

“Michael tell me where you are, I’m coming in.” He ordered down the line.

“Bathroom…” he barely heard over the flaming world around him but Jeremy knew exactly where he was; exactly where he had left him. Jeremy threw the barricade off of the door and buried himself and his phone in the cloth of this Halloween costume to prevent anymore smoke filling his lungs.

If the Squip was active right about now, he didn’t want to know what he would say…. he didn’t really care.

“Jeremy…” he heard his best friend whisper in his low yet soft voice, “I’m scared.”

Jeremy’s heart broke in two. He had never heard something like that come out of Michael’s mouth in all the time he knew him. Michael was the highlight of his life, the one good thing that got him through high school and yet he had never seen him without a smile on his face.

“Hang… hang in there Michael I’m almost at the door,” Jeremy tried to comfort his best friend despite the suffocating fumes around him. But he couldn’t hang up the phone, he couldn’t leave his best friend alone. He needed to save him.

Jeremy eventually came to the bathroom door. The flames had made the structure extremely weak so he knew that if he were to force the door open the whole floor might collapse.

“Ok Michael, I’m outside,” he said calmly despite the burning sensation in his lungs. He tried the knob, no dice. The door wasn’t budging. Michael must have locked it from the inside.

“Michael, you have to listen to me. You need to open the door, we need to get out of here now!” Jeremy yelled over the flames, hoping his best friend would hear him through both the phone and the thick walls.

He waited a few seconds until he heard the soft click of the door. Flying it open, he threw his phone to the ground and ran into the bathroom, cloth still covering up most of his face from the smoke.

Michael was slumped up against the wall, weak and dying. His eyes were closed and his hand was gripped over his hoodie which he had zipped right up to his neck to help him breath. Jeremy’s heart skipped a beat before returning to reality and lifting his friend up off the ground.

“Come on Michael, don’t die on me dude.” He whispered, hauling his best friend over his shoulder. Jeremy limped towards the window and smashed it open with his remaining strength, knowing the fire below was now too great for both of them to make it out that way alive. The drop from the bathroom wasn’t too bad, considering it was situated on the second floor. Jeremy could see a reasonable sized bush below which would break at least some of their fall.

“Ok Michael, look at me. Open your eyes and look at me, we have to jump ok?” He shook his best friend awake who barely responded with a brief nod. Jeremy could only take that before he climbed out the tiny window and threw himself out of the house.


Michael slowly opened his eyes as the voices all around him started to invade his mind. He didn’t want to, they hurt like hell, but he knew that he should. His whole body hurt too, he felt like he had just thrown himself into a fire. Ironic, once he realised what had happened.

Michael was lying on the concrete pavement just outside of Jake’s burning residence. The sounds of firetrucks sirens filled the air as the vehicles drew closer to extinguish the flames. The sounds of drunk teens also filled the air, telling Michael that at least most of the party must have escaped the fire.

He slowly sat up despite the pain, wanting to get a better perspective of the situation, but was stopped by a hand abruptly meeting his chest. He looked up to meet the bright blue eyes of his best friend, who looked just as worse for wear. His costume was burnt to the brim and his hair was disheveled and filled with ash. He smelt like smoke, a drastic change from the sweet vanilla scent that Michael was used to. Before he could say anything, Jeremy’s eyes started to fill with tears. He clutched onto Michael’s hoodie as he launched himself at his best friend.

The two sat there, on the pavement, embraced in each others arms. The rest of the world was a blur, it was just him and Jeremy. Nothing else mattered but him and Jeremy.

I have been staring at walls, trying to decide if I should blast Linkin Park at full volume, just to listen you know, my coping mechanism suggests I should listen to the songs and sing at the top of my lungs but I swear I don’t have the courage to do so.

I hope you find peace Chester, God knows you helped us find some.

★ Spoiled Rotten / Brandon Larracuente ★

So I’ve come to the conclusion that I find Brandon the hardest to write for. This was supposed to be written hours ago by the way…Also, what was supposed to be a day of writing turned out to be a day of binge watching Wong Fu’s Lunch Break videos…

Words: 1301

You had almost forgotten what waking up alone was like after almost two years of being in a steady relationship and as you awoke this morning, you found that you were by yourself.

Your frown and confusion soon disappears as you find a single red rose and a card resting on top of Brandon’s pillow.

Sitting up, you let the sheets fall to your waist, reaching an arm out for both items. Smelling the rose, a smile forms on your face before you place it on your lap-opening the envelope to retrieve your card.

The sweet words on the front alone make your eyes water, Brandon’s own handwritten message inside making mix of emotions arise within you. Wiping your eyes, you take hold of your rose in one hand, still gripping the card in the other, as you make your way out of your bedroom.

You find Brandon in the kitchen dishing up your breakfast. Placing what you held on the bench, you approach your boyfriend and wrap your arms around his waist-hugging him from behind.

He releases a startled laugh and takes your hands in his, “You aren’t supposed to be up yet,” he insists slightly disappointed, but his smile was evident in his voice. “Happy birthday, (Y/N).”

“Thank you,” you murmur, against his back, your voice being muffled by his shirt.

Brandon turns around in your arms so he was facing you, drawing you in for a proper hug. You sigh in content as he presses a gentle kiss against your temple. “Your day is only just beginning,” he grins. “I have a few plans for today.”

Pulling back so you could see his face, your brow furrows. “Brandon…I didn’t want to make a big fuss out of today.”

He chuckles, moving his hands to your hips, “It’s your birthday and if you think I’m just going to treat today like any other day, you are mistaken, my love,” he says. “Now, go sit down and I’ll finish getting breakfast ready.”

Reluctantly, you pull away from his hold and start heading over to the stools by the island bench. You take a seat and finally notice the vase of flowers in the centre. “Are they for me?” you ask quietly, letting your fingers gently toy with the petals of a matching rose to the one you had found beside you just minutes earlier.

“Of course, do you like them?”

Admiring the mix of flowers, you nod eagerly, taking note of the large white lilies and small red carnations that matched the roses-the assortment of greenery evening out the combination. “I love them.”

Brandon’s smile widens as he turns back to the counter, adding the final touches to your meal. He moves to sit in the stool beside you, two plates in hand.

“Thank you,” you say, already eying off everything on the plate.

“It was no problem,” he brushes off, taking his first bite.

Focusing your attention on the man beside you, you tilt your head, “What else do you have planned for the day?” you question, remembering his earlier words.

“Well after we eat,” he answers, “I’ll give you your presents and then we’ll head out.”


He jumps at the increased volume of your voice, “What?”

“When I asked you not to get me anything-I actually meant it.”

He rolls his eyes, “(Y/N), I promise you’ll like it.”

“I’d love pretty much anything from you, you know that. But that’s not the point.”

Brandon sighs, “What if I tell you it’s not anything too grand? It’s more sentimental stuff. Does that help in any way?”

Sighing, you nod, “I guess, as long as you weren’t put out of your way.”

“When it comes to you” he says, “never.”

After you had both finished breakfast and gotten ready for the day-you had requested to open your gifts later that night and instead just continue with the plans Brandon had set out.

The first destination took you completely by surprise. Brandon took you to the place where so many of your favourite childhood memorise rooted.

When it was time for lunch, the only bit of information he shared with you was that you two would not be alone, but instead be joined by a few people whom he had not been inclined to disclose.

You had spotted your friends and family the moment you walked through the restaurant. A ‘few’ people turned out to consist of everyone in your life who was important to you-many of which you hadn’t seen in person for what felt like forever.

After lunch, you had said your goodbyes to everyone after making plans to meet up very soon and thanked them for coming. Brandon had lead you to the park where you both swung on the swings, filling the air with your laughter and mindless chatter.

Brandon had stopped swinging and was instead just watching you.

“We have to go in a minute,” he announces, glancing down at his watch.

“What else is there to do?” you ask with a small laugh.

His sends you a small smile, “Tired already?”

“A little,” you admit, slowing the speed of your swinging.

Brandon rises to his feet and takes a few steps backwards, waiting for you to join him. “I promise we only have one more stop then we can go home. Unless you want to skip this one,” he suggests.

You shake your head, finally coming to a stop and standing. “No,” you deny. “I want to go.” You were silent for a moment. “Where are we going?”

Brandon laughs as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his side and starting to guide you in the direction of the cinema. “I thought we’d go see that movie you wanted to see.”

You halt your movements, causing Brandon to stop walking. You place a hand on the side of his face and lean in to kiss him. “Thank you,” you state firmly.

“It’s just a movie,” he says, using his free hand to rest on your outer arm.

“No,” you deny. “It’s not just a movie. It’s the sweet card and the beautiful flowers and the breakfast and the mini trips we’ve had throughout the day and the lunch with my friends and my family-you’ve done so much for me today and I want to thank you.”

Brandon chuckles as you wing your arms loosely around his hips. “You’re welcome,” he whispers.

You peck his lips once more before resting your head on his chest, a shiver running down your back as Brandon’s hand slowly trail along the length of your back.

“I love you,” he says.

Smiling into his shirt you tighten your grip, “I love you too.”

Collapsing on the couch you let out a small laugh, “Today has been amazing,” you tell Brandon as he sits down, pulling you feet onto his lap. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to keep thanking me,” he reminds you. “I’m just so glad today was a success.” Brandon gently rubs your leg, “So you really had a good day?”

You gently knock his chest with your foot, “Of course I did. I would have been ecstatic if we spent the whole day in bed watching movies or something. You really didn’t have to do any of this.”

“You still haven’t even opened your presents.”

Throwing your head back against the cushion, you cover your face with your arm. “Which are completely unnecessary by the way.”

Oh!” he says, his face lighting up, “we still have cake too! And you’re going to absolutely love the gifts,” he insists, moving to stand. “I hope so anyway,” he mumbles.

The sound of your laughter echoes around the room as he retreats to collect your gifts.

Hannibal and the Importance of Memory

The halls of Doctor Lecter’s mind palace open on immense and well-lit spaces; everywhere are the exhibits, well-spaced and each keyed to memories that lead to other memories in geometric progression.

To say that Hannibal erases painful memories, especially after Mizumono, is, I think, a misunderstanding of him as a character and of what his memory palace does.

Hannibal has trained himself since his childhood to be incapable of forgetting – as a youth he suffered from amnesia after the death of his sister and went to great lengths to recover his memories. It is a matter of needing control over himself, of being able to decide his actions based on his experiences.

In order to be able to remember he developed an elaborate memory palace, incorporating many grand old buildings and locations from his youth.

In this technique the subject memorises the layout of some building, or the arrangement of shops on a street, or any geographical entity which is composed of a number of discrete loci. When desiring to remember a set of items the subject literally ‘walks’ through these loci and commits an item to each one by forming an image between the item and any distinguishing feature of that locus. Retrieval of items is achieved by 'walking’ through the loci, allowing the latter to activate the desired items.

In short, Hannibal memorises things by building a room in his mind, which is connected to everything else he remembers. The strength of this technique comes from it’s structure, where one memory/ location leads naturally on to the next and the next.

It is also why the idea of Hannibal erasing memories or emotions is contrary to his established characterisation and development – imagine your own home, in as great detail as you can manage, picture the rooms, from the door where you enter, into the rooms one at a time, the furnishings in place, everything just as it is.

Now erase a room. Take this mental walk through your home again and remove a room, travel through your home as though this room had never existed.

Chances are it’s not so easy to do.

The memory palace method uses the part of your brain that deals with physical memory in order to fix other kinds of memory, this type of memory storage is more stable than the kind that we usually rely on for memorisation, it will enable fast and accurate recollection once the palace is established and the individual is practiced at using it.

Hannibal has been using this technique since childhood, he would memorise his med school textbooks and return them to the store within the week, he stores music and art and history and literature. Everything is stored away.

Even the bad stuff.

In the descriptions of the memory palace in Hannibal and Hannibal Rising, there is emphasis placed on the disadvantages that Hannibal experiences with this style of mnemonic – mainly that there are places in his own mind that are filled with horrors.

“… rooms filled with old fears — great snakes wrestling and heaving in the dark and lit in flashes. Pleas and screaming fill some places on the grounds where Hannibal himself must never go.”

In some ways Hannibal does have an advantage in that he can organise his traumatic memories, decide where they are placed and whether or not he will confront them, but due to the way that he structures his memories they aren’t going to disappear, and he’s certainly not able to get rid of them.

As well, if you look at the final scene of Mizumo his expression doesn't look, to me at least, like one of triumph. Actually he seems to look more worn, even haggard than he has at any other time during the series.

That doesn’t look like an expression of triumph or gloating, and actually the posture he takes, head tilted back, eyes closed – similar to what he did after leaving his home – resembles the gesture that he described when he and Will were discussing Will’s safe place – laying his head back into the quiet of the stream.

It seems more likely to me that this gesture indicates that he's accessing memories about Will, rather than attempting to distance himself from them; laying his head back and joining Will on the bank of the stream, perhaps – of course this is only my interpretation.