#Memory manipulation

[aventurineswife]

A kinda specific and maybe long but fun idea i had for a req:

Essentially, {and bare w me, i’m half asleep writing this lol} Reader x Sunday, and Reader is a childhood friend of his, who he loved, and someday when they were older, Reader was tragically killed in an incident. Sunday however, in a grief stricken state, decides to rebel against his original goal for the sweetdream paradise (penacony arc reference) and decides to shape it into a dream instead where he’s happily married to Reader, although for the sake of the dream he’s altered their memories. ending is essentially up to you!

{some additional ideas i had if you wanted to, were things like an argument between gopher and sunday, or robin and sunday, in whichever points of the story you wanted}

alternatively, a different Aventurine version would be interesting, mostly w the same set up but Sunday met Reader during Aventurine’s mission on Penacony, liked them, and Aven has to basically fight off the dream and Sunday.

but yeah, that’s pretty much it, everything else is up for creative liberties! i hope this one is at least somewhat interesting lol xx and srry if some of it doesn’t make sense 😓🤍

“Sometimes, the hardest part of letting go is realizing that the dream was never real”

Summary: In the idyllic yet hollow world of Sweetdream Paradise, Sunday crafts a perfect life with you—his lost love, altered memories and all—to escape the sorrow of reality. But as others begin to break through his illusion, and you start to remember fragments of a different fate, the dream begins to fracture. Torn between love and the harshness of truth, Sunday must finally face the choice to let you go, or remain forever in his self-made paradise.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, unrequited love, grief, loss, dreamscape, bittersweet ending, altered memories, memory manipulation, moral dilemma, angst, hurt/comfort, alternate reality, surrealism, slow unraveling, denial of reality.

Warnings: Grief, themes of manipulation, psychological trauma, implied death of Reader, reality distortion, emotional conflict, bittersweet resolution, morally ambiguous decisions.

A/N: Don't worry, anon! I appreciate all the details, the more details the more I can try to understand what you want exactly! Though I probably changed some bits of it here 😪

Sunday had always been proud of his role within Penacony, the creator of Sweetdream Paradise—a place where sorrow could be stilled, where suffering dissolved into an endless realm of serene dreams. It was a comforting reality he believed people needed, a soft oblivion to cradle them. Yet, in the depths of his mind, his peaceful philosophy hid a darker purpose, shaped by the ache of a loss he could never endure.

You had been his friend, a constant light in his youth, a companion who grounded his dreams. For as long as he remembered, you were there, with laughter that melted his worries and eyes that could see through his layered philosophies. But the day you were lost, taken too soon in a tragic incident, the world itself had hollowed out for him. The pain of your absence haunted him like a shadow, feeding a grief so deep that he was willing to defy his original purpose. In that moment of desolation, he turned Sweetdream Paradise into something far more personal—a realm where you still lived, where you loved him just as much as he had loved you.

In this new dream, Sunday made alterations. He reshaped your memories, softened the sharp edges of reality, and wove a seamless history where you had married him, where together, you built a life free of tragedy. In this dream, he could protect you eternally, shielded by his crafted illusion.

You woke to sunlight filtering through the windows, lying beside Sunday as the golden morning glow danced over his features. His eyes opened, catching you with a familiar warmth, and he reached over, brushing his fingers across your cheek.

"Good morning." he murmured, voice low and rich, as if savoring the simplicity of that greeting.

Every day was like this—a gentle, perfect rhythm that never seemed to break. You didn’t remember a world outside of this home, this life with him. And as you looked at him, you felt safe, loved, yet there was always a faint unease, like a fragment of something forgotten.

But the days went on, filled with laughter and love. Sunday seemed devoted to making sure you never doubted this world, his every word a reassurance that here, you were whole and happy.

One evening, as Sunday worked quietly at his desk, a visitor shattered the peace of his dream. It was Robin, standing just inside the doorway, her expression dark with a kind of wary sadness.

“Brother, you need to stop this,” she said, folding her arms. Her gaze fixed on him, seeing through the veneer of the dream. “This isn’t right. This… this paradise you’re keeping isn’t reality.”

Sunday straightened, his face hardening at her words. “Who are we to deny people peace, Robin? Haven’t we seen enough pain? Haven’t they?” His voice broke slightly, the facade slipping as he glanced toward where you sat by the fire, unaware of the intensity in his voice. He softened, as if trying to protect the dream from any trace of discord.

“You’re keeping people trapped. Yourself included. And for what? A fantasy? Is that really what they would have wanted?” Robin’s voice grew more urgent, her frustration showing. “They’re gone. You have to accept that.”

Sunday’s fists clenched at her words, every fiber in his body resisting the truth. “How could you understand?” he whispered. “In this place, they’re alive. I’m not hurting anyone. I’m giving them peace. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Robin stared at him, her gaze a mix of pity and sorrow. “At what cost, Brother? You’re keeping yourself from moving on, holding them hostage in a world that isn’t even real.”

In an alternate version of Penacony, Sunday’s paradise faced an even stranger twist. Aventurine, the cunning Stoneheart known for his strategic mind, was on his own mission in Sweetdream Paradise, seeking information that only Sunday could provide. But as he delved into the fabric of this dreamscape, he found himself questioning the reality around him, the shimmering dream where Sunday lived an idyllic life with you.

Aventurine confronted Sunday one night, his tone half-amused, half-concerned. “Interesting setup you have here,” he remarked, eyes gleaming with curiosity as he took in the flawless surroundings. “I almost believed it myself… almost. But what happens when the dream can’t hold itself together anymore?”

Sunday’s gaze narrowed, his protective instincts flaring. “What do you mean by that?”

Aventurine shrugged, his gaze flicking to you, sitting quietly, oblivious to the tension. “Everyone in this place… it’s all too perfect, isn’t it? You’re clinging to a memory, one that doesn’t belong here.”

In a rare flash of anger, Sunday stepped forward, his eyes darkening. “This isn’t any of your concern, Aventurine. Leave.”

Aventurine met his glare, his smirk slipping. “You think you’re the only one who’s loved and lost? Reality has its flaws, Sunday. It’s messy, painful… but it’s real. This—this is just a prison you’re keeping yourself in.”

Sunday’s voice trembled, caught between anguish and fury. “Better a beautiful dream than a brutal reality.”

Aventurine’s gaze softened for a brief moment, though he couldn’t abandon his sardonic tone. “But at least in reality, they would have remembered you for who you are, not a god in a gilded cage.”

In the end, it was you—within the dream—who finally confronted him, feeling the intangible pull of memories you didn’t recognize. “Sunday… something doesn’t feel right,” you whispered one night, as he sat beside you. “I keep��� remembering pieces of something different, something that feels like it wasn’t supposed to end this way.”

Sunday’s face grew pale, fear creeping into his eyes. “No, you don’t have to worry about that. You’re here. We’re together. Isn’t that enough?”

But as you searched his eyes, you could feel the truth breaking through, the dream trembling under the weight of reality. “Sunday, what are you not telling me?”

He looked away, his heart shattering as he realized he couldn’t keep you here forever. Slowly, he whispered, “I… I just wanted to keep you safe. To give us a life that didn’t end in sorrow.”

With a trembling hand, you reached out, brushing a tear from his cheek. “It’s okay to let go. You have to keep going… even if it means letting me go.”

Sunday’s shoulders shook, the dream beginning to unravel around them, pieces of the illusion fading as he looked into your eyes one last time. “I… I don’t know if I can.”

But in the final moments, he felt your hand slip away, leaving him alone in the vast silence of his own grief. And as he awoke from his dream, Sunday found himself in a world still plagued by loss, his heart hollow yet somehow freer. Though you were gone, he understood, at last, that he had to face reality, no matter how painful it was.

And in that pain, he found a fragile hope—a sliver of light breaking through the dark.

*cutely posts all my drafts that have been dying to see the light* 😇💖

[tsartistry]

Apollo may be a god, but Lester's brain is very human, with some very human security risks.

More doodles from that fic idea where Niobe kidnaps Lester Apollo and brainwashes him into thinking he's her human son, to get some long overdue revenge on Leto.

Niobe's covering her bases. She's not just relying on Circe's magic manipulating Lester's memories, she's stacking those effects with some hypnosis & even some (banned for being dangerous) attachment therapy techniques. Poor Lester's head is gonna be such a mess, it's gonna take more than water from the River Mnemosyne to sort him out.

[sapphireginger]

Chasing a Memory

Summary:

Derek had bothered with a quick shower but only spent a few minutes after that to tug on clothes, grab essentials and pile into his car. Nothing else mattered to him than finding who needed him and why.

AO3 Link

Derek sped towards the city limits not knowing exactly why but consumed by the overwhelming urge to be somewhere. Someone needed him and that was a bone deep revelation but every time he had tried to focus on exactly who it was, he got lightheaded and the knowledge would escape him. He spent three days chasing his tail and it was time for him to take drastic measures. He had picked up the phone and made the call.

“Nephew? Well my my, what a surprise this is.”

“Believe me I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t of utmost importance.”

“I take it that seeking the status of your favorite uncle’s wellbeing is not your reason?”

“You’re my only uncle. So, not even close but hey you’re still kicking. So, that’s lovely.”

“For all you know I went back to the dirt as often as you check in.”

“Peter! I’m not interested in this right now. I need you to meet me.”

“Where?”

“You know where.”

The call hadn’t lasted long but it was long enough for Derek to feel slight regret for the entire predicament he found himself in and he had tried to talk himself out of it many times. It had taken a full five days before he wore down enough to consider it and that was when Derek realized that if he felt so strongly about this, then calling his uncle was the obvious next step. That meant it must be serious and had to be taken seriously.

He wouldn’t put up with any baiting or tolerate any teasing nor entertain his uncle’s antics for even a millisecond. This was something clearly evidenced on his face based on the fact that one look made his uncle snap his mouth closed before he could utter something that he realized would result in a tussle.

Derek had bothered with a quick shower but only spent a few minutes after that to tug on clothes, grab essentials and pile into his car. Nothing else mattered to him than finding who needed him and why.

Peter was unusually quiet as if the state his nephew was in was evidence enough that something was definitely wrong but first they needed to get to the root of the situation to fully understand what they were dealing with.

After offering Derek a cup of tea which Derek accepted graciously albeit with hesitancy, Peter felt it was safe to proceed yet still to do so with caution. “So, Derek? Tell me everything.”

Derek took a sip of the tea and felt himself settle but only slightly. “Something is clawing me up inside. It’s nothing like when my wolf is restless although it is restless. There’s more to it than that. I have this overwhelming urge that something is wrong and someone needs…me.”

Peter watched his nephew with assessing eyes. “Describe the feeling.”

“Well it’s like my heart is pounding but I’m just sitting there and I’m terrified but there was a freaking song I love playing on the speakers. It’s like there are shadows even when the sun is blinding and it’s like I’m cold and I never get cold but what really gets me is the all consuming belief that I’m alone and awash with utter despair.”

Peter was tense as he recalled hearing of things like this before but he had not expected to ever deal with it personally nor for any who shared his blood to experience it. Still, he shoved aside any qualms about helping when he saw the shattered look on his nephew’s face. “I’m going to help you but answer me one question first, Derek, okay?”

Derek gave a nod, keeping his gaze on his uncle though his eyes seemed glazed over slightly.

“Whatever has happened is not your fault. You know that, correct?” he asked, almost certain Derek would argue that it was, in fact, his fault and that would mean a delay. He only hoped that whoever needed Derek would be able to hold on long enough for Derek to lose the belief that he was somehow responsible but this time his nephew surprised him.

“Realizing that this person is in trouble and that their feelings match ones I’ve felt in exact detail many times in my life makes me think there’s a possibility it’s my fault but I won’t know until I find them,” he stated before setting the cup down on the coffee table and resting his head in his hands. “If only I could latch onto their face or their name.”

Peter tilted his head. “What do you mean by that?”

Derek sighed. “I get this inkling of who it is but when I try to focus on it, I get lightheaded and the knowledge fades to the far corners of my mind. Then it’s completely unreachable. I just need to fucking know because someone’s in danger. Someone is hurting and I—” He choked up. “I need to know who they are and I need to know why this is happening to them and to me!” he ground out, his chest rising and falling faster and faster.

Peter’s wolf growled as he moved closer to place a comforting hand on Derek’s arm. Derek got a distinct feeling that his uncle was doing one of two things. He was either humoring him or he knew something and was going to help Derek.

“I know, pup and I’m going to help you. I think I have a pretty good idea of what is happening.”

Derek perked up and looked at his uncle. “You do?” His tone was full of hope and trust.

Peter figured the least he could do was be open with the guy but he had to refrain for just a little longer. There were two very important details he still needed to figure out. Details that may not have seemed crucial but if provided would change everything.

They decided to take the night to regroup and then when the sun had just barely brightened the sky, Derek sat in a wooden chair, straddling it with his claws digging into the wood.

“Are you ready, nephew?” Peter asked as he lined his claws up with the back of Derek’s neck.

The alpha grit his teeth and with a snarl said, “Just do it!”

Peter’s claws sank into the tan column and both men gasped as they were thrown into memories long forgotten by the mind but never by the heart.

FLASH

Pale skin with moles and amber eyes like melted gold and whiskey.

FLASH

A blue jeep older than its owner but as reliable as the boy himself.

FLASH

Paralyzed, sinking down, down, down and then a tug and a strength guiding him up, up, up, inhaling sharply as they break the surface. How?

FLASH

Death, both unnecessary and at his own hands, and a firm but gentle grip on his shoulder, a touch the alpha leaned into and took comfort in the scent of the one grounding him.

FLASH

Fear, plain in the expression on the boy’s face, ivory skin even paler as a yell to ‘Get down!’ erupted from the wolf’s throat, and he listened, trusting the wolf, allowing the wolf to face the feral alpha.

FLASH

A closed door up against which the wolf shoved the sarcastic teen, but thoughts of violence were far from his mind which was instead consumed with the thoughts of how it might have felt to kiss those perfect pink lips, even more tempting when a pink tongue swiped over them to wet them.

FLASH

Derek roared as Peter pulled his bloody claws out of the wolf’s neck and then everything was silent.

After a few minutes had passed, Peter spoke softly. “That must be Stiles.”

“Stiles,” Derek whispered in agreement and a sense of awe. Then, guilt socked him in the gut. How could he have forgotten Stiles, HIS Stiles? How could he have forgotten his mate?!

“We will fix this, nephew. I promise you that.”

Derek nodded, swallowing thickly. “Good. He’s waiting for me and being the smart little shit that he is, he’s using the mate bond to bring me to him.”

Peter gave a feral and sharp grin. “Please tell me that I get to murder someone?”

With an equally terrifyingly sharp and feral grin, Derek stood. “Definitely. Anyone and everyone who had anything to do with my mate’s disappearance and the meddling with our memories, will die and I don’t care if you choose to bathe in their blood. So long as my mate is safe and in my arms alive by the end of it, that’s all I care about.”

The two wolves smirked, their eyes glowing in the dark as they descended the loft stairs later that night. Their fangs glinted in the moonlight and silent as shadows, on the wings of death they rode to deal swift justice on those who harmed Stiles Genim Hale, Alpha Mate, Nemeta Guardian and the boy who ran with wolves.

[unwelcome-ozian]

In 2013, a landmark paper published in Science described how researchers used intracranial optical stimulation of hippocampal neurons to introduce a false memory of fear in a mouse. While the clinical applications are limited, this experiment demonstrated that memories could be manipulated by altering the firing patterns of key neurons. Building on this experiment, another group of researchers showed that memories can also be transferred between animals. When researchers recorded the hippocampal firing patterns of a rat learning (and encoding memories of) how to perform a task, and transmitted those patterns to another rat via intracranial stimulation, they found that recipient animals could successfully perform the same task without any training. While these experiments used stimulation probes requiring surgical implantation, the emerging ability to plant memories is reminiscent of brainwashing attempts by the Soviets and Chinese during the Korean War—and presents the possibility of creating a neuroscience-enabled “Manchurian Candidate.”

[djohnhopper]

new memory, new reality. What are your real memories? What is really your life story? Dark, out of synch fiction. Just follow the link for tons more: https://johnhopperwriter.blogspot.com/

[soapbbox]

Ooough I just know op is gonna take Meg to everyone else and elita is gonna be pissed while bee is just OMG HIIII ITS SO NICE TO SEE YOU!!! Bc that's his friend even if he is evil

That’s one of his first ever friends, of course he’s happy to see him!! Continuing from this comic.

[bluerosefox]

One in the Same

Hmmmm

Hmmmmm

So we know during the time Tim lost in spleen (his Red Robin run) and wakes ups next to the pit he almost believed he had been tossed in the Lazarus Pits.

What if

Now hear me out.

What if he actually was.

But what if instead of gaining Pit Madness, he unlocked his past life memories.

His memories of being Daniel 'Danny' Fenton and Danny Phantom.

And once the memories returned so did his ghost form and powers.

And as Tim sits at the bottom of the pits, crossing his legs and letting all his memories slide back into place he questioned what to do now. He pondered for a moment and hummed tapping a finger to his chin.

Maybe he'll play the Pit Madness card? After all Ra's chucked him in here to either turn him into a mindless rage machine he could manipulate or see what the Pits would do to a mind like Tim's. Or Tim could pretend to be a silent rage, a calm before the storm.

Well, Tim grinned his eyes glowing green as he stared at the surface of the Lazarus waters above him, he was very good at lying this life time around. After all he was Tim 'I can even lie to Batman and get away with it' Drake-Wayne and he did used to be Danny 'Commit to the bit' Fenton/Phantom.

He was going to have fun playing that fruitloop named Ra's like the cheap kazoo he was.

[cspcrashing]

bleach au in which mydei is phainon's zanpakuto but they both live in oblivious bliss (+ a written snippet of what they were like before it all went to shit)

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 14

Tim was the best thing to ever happen to Danny.

He didn't mean that just because how much of a sappy romantic he was to Tim, but because he literally saved him from his own mind.

Danny was never going to leave Amity Park so long as the portal was open.

The portal would always remain open between his parents practically treating it like thier third child and thier ability to simply make another if anything would have happened to that one. Not to mention the super creep named Vlad.

So Danny would have stayed in Amity forever, cleaning up after his parents and being miserable.

Or ya know. Until they managed to kill him.

But then Tim came into his life and fixed everything. He befriended Danny over nightime rooftop rendezvous and groaning at his dumb (read awesome) puns.

As they got closer Sam and Tucker seemed to get both anxious and angry. Were they jealous? What right did they have after the Gregor incident?! Its true that they'd both been to busy to hand out with Danny for the past few weeks, leaving Danny with only Tim to turn to for company.

Tim pointed out that they may feel threatened knowing someone else knows his secret and Danny couldn't help but agree.

Tim pointed out that Danny was going to be stuck here cleaning up after his parent the rest of his life if he didn't find a way to stop the portal. Danny had nearly broke down at that and admitted he didn't know what else to do, so Tim devised a plan with that big beautiful brain of his.

They created a machine that ran on ectoplasm and magic that could wipe information from both technology and the human brain. They could remove all traces of ghosts ever existing in this town and erase 20 years of knowledge and research from Vlad and the Fentons minds, but it would come at a cost as magic usually does.

They would have to forget Danny existed as well. Tim offered that they could run away together.

Danny decided that was okay. The only person he had left in this town who had cared about him was Jazz and she was better off without him there to get her hurt.

Tim also had a plan to strip Vlad of his powers as well as his knowledge, and Danny was looking forward to not having to deal with him anymore

It was the day after everything went down, Tim was driving the GAV while Danny flew in the Ops Centers Jet form. They had made sure to swipe everything they could from the labs as well as everything the thought they needed to travel to Tims home dimension.

Danny had promised to help Tim uncover the secrets of his past and who he really was and to do that they essentially planned to travel around the Earth being wandering criminals.

Between Tims intellect and Dannys powers they were undefeated and unnoticed. They stole whatever they wanted and did whatever they pleased, making sure no one had to get hurt unless there was no other options.

Of course they stole cash from bank vaults as well as whatever else was in there. They couldn't stop Phantom from entering since anti-meta tech didn't affect him and couldnt track Phantom due to him being whatever he was plus the collar Tim had helped Danny design that covered up his ecto-signature.

They lived like this for over a year, breaking in to abandoned places, having waterfights in large city waterfountains (and running when they heard police sirens), tagging some of the places they'd hit when they wanted to leave a message, long romantic walks at night, lots of laughter, going on dates to restaurants (they never dine & dash. Some places make the wait staff pay which is bull and they might want to return to that establishment at some point), that one time they stole a $900 wedding cake from a homophobic bakery owner, lots of Fake out-Make outs to avoid getting sent to jail, ect.

They were having the time of thier lives up until they stopped in a little 24 hour diner in Bludhaven. They were doing what they usually do, flirting and laughing until the waiter takes thier order, when a guy approached thier table. Tim and Danny exchanged worried looks before the guy held up his hands in mock surrender, "I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise, I'm Dick Grayson." The man held out his hand to Tim, who hesitated before shaking it, "Tim," he answered honestly.

Danny nudged him with his foot under the table.

The man smiled wide, "Like Tim Drake?"

Tim and Danny looked confused, "Like who?" Danny asked and Dicks smile faltered

[zishuge]

The only thing I remember is killing people. You say I'm someone who saves people. I won't kill you — but I don't believe you either. Do you think I'm a fool? You're not a fool. Mysterious Lotus Casebook (2023) | Ep. 20

[c7arisse]

things i drew but never posted, ina11 edition

[terrorbeauty]

[dorkafricska]

Little sketch I drew of Ed because I thought maybe he is having reoccurring nightmares of Mr. Cheng. And I have this headcanon/idea that when having strong emotions during the nightmares he would accidentally change to his big form.

[mori-me-daddy]

[rafamonzo]

From the series ¨Manipulated Memories"

http://rafamonzo.tumblr.com   / http://tanaka-clan.tumblr

[snakesinsocks2005]

Does anyone ever think about how Varmen never once questioned all the people she ran into who claimed to know her. Like she doesn't even think twice about it. I reckon faculty must've run a few UNfamiliar faces by her and told her some sort of series of clever half lies