#attack on memory

[punkrockmixtapes]

Cloud Nothings "Stay Useless"

[tuuneoftheday]

Cloud Nothings - Our Plans

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

These two kids are Hamza (the oldest) and Qusai (the youngest).

Their mother shares this video and bids them goodbye. They were both killed by Israeli bombardment 5 days ago. She says:

[Two days before Hamza and Qusai were killed, hamza asked me: "mom, when we die, where will I go?" And I told him: "you will be a bird in heaven, my love." He said: "and Qusai?" "Just like you inshallah."

And indeed, two days later, he left and took his brother with him. It's like he was preparing me for saying goodbye to both of them. Heaven is more beautiful than any place on this Earth, habibi. We will meet and be reunited one day, me, your dad and you two].

Our kids don't deserve to die already thinking about what will happen to them, they don't deserve to die already terrified, anticipating their death because the world failed them and decided their lives mean nothing. We are not numbers. Remember their names and their stories.

[ciderjacks]

dad issues

+

(I think they were all fundamentally affected by what they saw and just collectively decided not to share the upsetting details)

[musicandotherdelights]

Daily Listening, Day #988 - September 14th, 2022

Album: Attack On Memory (Carpark, 2012)

Artist: Cloud Nothings

Genre: Indie Rock, Post-Hardcore

Track Listing: 

"No Future/No Past"

"Wasted Days"

"Fall In"

"Stay Useless"

"Separation"

"No Sentiment"

"Our Plans"

"Cut You"

Favorite Song: "Wasted Days"

[lilybug-02]

Final Bug Fact:

The world NEEDS bugs. They keep the soil healthy, pollinate, control pests, and contribute to the worlds' ecosystem. By the end of the century, it is estimated 40% of insect species may go extinct due to habitat loss. Yes, that is very scary. But with even one beetle spared, one caterpillar rescued, and one Hollow Knight comic of all things, things will change. Because I know there's a lot more Dewi's out there than most people realize. Stay curious.

Thanks for going on this adventure with me. ♥︎

First || Prev // END

Masterpost

Comic Thoughts and Pictures Below!

I wanted to put here how amazing and sweet everyone has been with this comic. I finished a 75 page comic in 3 MONTHS. I am at a loss for words. That sounds crazy and it IS crazy. But man was it fun. Even on days were I wasn't able to draw due to fatigue or business, I loved working on it from start to finish. And guess what!? This is my first ever FINISHED comic :D I'm so proud of myself. I know there's some things I want to change and the art is wonky in most places...... but I'm content to let it be. What an amazing summer adventure!

I'm hoping to post the full comic on another Comic website. I may or may not edit some of the art ^w^ So I'll let y'all know when I release it.

Interested in learning what you could do to help your local insects? This is the basic stuff. Maybe make some Insect Hotels if you have the time!!! And never forget to spread the word about bugs. They need our help just as any animal on earth.

Still Here? Well you can look in the tags for little lore dumps if ur looking for stuff like that ;)

[goryhorroor]

horror sub-genres/techniques: anime horror

[helloilikepurple]

DC X DP - DeAged

The Nasty Burger explosion took a lot from Danny.

Stopping Dan meant nothing when Danny lost everything. His friends, his parents, his sister, his teacher - all gone. Danny, desperate to not become Dan, fled. He would not let Vlad destroy the only thing he had left; himself. He didn't turn human again if he could avoid it. Let Danny Fenton die with his family.

He did what he could, trying to keep it all together. Avoid Vlad. Catch havoc-wreaking ghosts. Try to not have a panic attack every time he saw his reflection. FentonWorks became out-of-bounds. No one was sure how to turn off the portal or any of the house's defence mechanisms so it was taped up instead.

Danny kept the GIW away. They wanted his parents' research, even if they had to bend the law to get it. Danny would not let them have it. Never.

But the GIW was persistent and Danny weak from nearly two months of being Phantom and nothing else. He was so tired. Tired from grieving, from fighting, from wandering around, completely lost and alone.

The GIW got a lucky shot in. Danny went down. He woke up, still ghost, somewhere white. He'd trained himself not to have to turn back. He was grateful he did.

The GIW studied him. Danny did not have the energy to fight back. The will to survive. Curled up in his cell, bloody and becoming less human with every passing day, Clockwork finally intervened.

He could not let the future High King wither away into nothing.

With Nocturn's help, he whisked him away. His world was dying anyway. With no one to maintain the portal, it would soon overload and explode. The radiation would kill all life on Earth, leaving nothing behind, and taking with it the potential for new life. One world among infinite realities meant nothing. But Danny, as High King, is a singularity. A unique existence, only found in one reality. Clockwork, for the sake of everything that lives and dies, could not let Danny fade away.

Danny slept at the Far Frozen, dreaming of his family, his friends, and the stars he would one day rule over. He healed, wounds knitting together into scars and fractured core slowly, ever so slowly, repairing itself. A future Ancient, bound to protect all that is and will be, was bound to be very badly hurt from such a loss.

Clockwork only wished he could have done more, but to remove Danny too early would have spelt disaster worse than the deaths of billions. This boy would someday be someone he'd proudly call his grandson. Seeing that future alone was enough to make his own core ache for the young one.

The Infinite Realms wept for its child, still but a babe yet having suffered so much. It embraced its future King, blessing him with its loyalty and adoration. The ghosts of the realms, spread far and wide over distant realities, timelines and worlds, felt the loss too.

Danny healed, unaware of how loved and precious he was to so many - how far he was from alone. The dead's sudden quiet unsettled many. Enemies froze in the silent mourning, animosity forgotten. Raging wars came to abrupt ends. So many, unable to bear the ever-reaching, unidentifiable pain in the air killed themselves. Good, kind people cried alone.

Magic users, like Constantine and Zatanna, hid, waiting out the Infinite Realm's despair for its child. No one spoke of it, for fear of disrespecting the dimension between dimensions. But they hid, and they waited, and they couldn't help but worry for themselves and everything and everyone else.

Danny got a lot of visitors. Ancients, regular ghosts, crowded around his bed, gifting him blessings and support. Danny slept, he healed, and his world died, taking with it all he'd known. He wouldn't remember or know of any of this when he woke  - even the memories of his pleasant dreams will have left him. He'll awaken and think himself entirely alone.

But he'll know, someday.

Clockwork will make sure of it.

---

Danny doesn't know where he is or who he is.

He has a vague idea. His name. His life and his death. But so much is so distant, like impressions on sand, washed away by the ocean. He knows he should be bigger. He knows this isn't home. He knows there is no home anymore.

He knows there are people he misses, but he doesn't know who they are or where they've gone. He knows so little yet so much. White walls and orange hair, green (toxic, writhing green) and hazmat suits, white and black and orange and blue. Expensive, Packers-branded cologne, burning flesh, the scream of an alarm and laughter and fear and hope and love and pain and loss. Disjointed flashes, snippets of another life.

And this isn't familiar - this city and these people. These crowded, filthy streets aren't home, but there's no home anymore so of course they aren't. And maybe Danny should be afraid. He doesn't know where he is, or how he got here. There are people, so tall, walking around him not sparing him a glance. It's loud and smelly and so much to process all at once.

But Danny doesn't care because he's so tired, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep the day away. But he doesn't have a home, so obviously he doesn't have a bed either. He looks around for somewhere else to sleep, rubbing at his chest subconsciously as he does.

There, a building, on the other side of the road. The windows are tinted, but the doors open and Danny, through the crowds and passing traffic, catches a glimpse of what has to be a couch. Maybe the people that own the building will let him sleep on their couch for a little bit.

So he crosses the street, sticking close to the legs of some lady with skinny heels that go tap-tap-tap so the cars don't go because they can't see him. The lady turns to go a different way after but it's okay because Danny is in front of the building now.

He pushes the door open and slips inside. It's quieter inside, and warmer. Danny wasn't cold outside but in here there's a nice heat that makes him feel even sleepier. He looks around at the fancy chairs and potted plants and lights, and is happy to see there are couches. Long couches, with lots of pillows and space for him to spread out.

He walks up to the desk. He's too short to see over it, and it makes him kind of angry because he's sure he's supposed to be taller. But he figures maybe he remembers wrong because people don't just shrink. Except, he's a halfa so maybe ghosts do?

"Hello?"

There's a lady here too, behind the desk, but unlike the one he followed across the street she has short, curly hair. Danny wonders if she's wearing skinny heels too. Leaning his head back, he can see her look up, glance around, and then look back down.

Danny pouts. Did she not see him?

"Hello?"

He waves an arm this time, reaching as high as he can to catch her attention. She finally sees him, eyes widening in surprise. "Oh, sorry! Hello." She has a nice voice.

"Your voice is pretty."

She smiles, and Danny decides her smile is nice too. "Why thank you. You have a pretty voice too. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Can I please sleep on your couch? Just for a little bit."

"Of course you can. Would you like a blanket? I could fetch one for you from the staff room."

Danny shakes his head. "I'm okay. Thank you."

"Alright. But if you change your mind, do tell me."

"You're very nice."

"Thank you, but it's really no problem. Not much to do today anyway."

"You should sleep too then. Sleep is good."

She giggles. "That is a very good idea. I just might take your advice." Danny nods. He has lots of good ideas. "Okay. I'm gonna' go nap now. Bye-bye."

"Sleep well."

There are a few couches, and for a bit Danny's not sure which one to sleep on. He chooses the one with the most pillows. It's very comfy, and the pillows are nice too. He puts one under his head and hugs another, curling up around it. He falls asleep in seconds.

-

When a toddler with black and blue eyes asked to sleep on one of the couches on in the reception hall of Wayne enterprises, May had assumed he was one of Bruce's boys. He certainly fit the type Gotham's favourite playboy liked to adopt, and it wasn't unusual for his wards to show up out of the blue.

Once she found Tim Drake passed out on the floor under her desk. Apparently, he'd been hiding from Dick who was visiting from Blüdhaven and forgot to bring his coffee with him, consequently falling asleep while he waited for her to arrive so he could ask her to go pick some up for him. That had been an interesting Thursday morning. 

On another memorable occasion, Cass, Bruce's only official daughter, and her girlfriend Steph had shown up, said hi, went upstairs, then came back down after about an hour, giggling as they ran out with a wave goodbye. Not even ten minutes later, Bruce himself stumbled out of the elevator, absolutely covered in purple glitter. May remembers raising an eyebrow and asking if Bruce wanted her to have another suit brought in.

He'd ended up collapsing on one of the couches with an exhausted sigh, and said he'd have Alfred pick him up instead. He left a sparkly trail behind him when he walked, and the couch he sat on had to be replaced because, even after numerous cleaning attempts, no one could get the glitter out. He had glitter in his hair for months afterwards.

So, May hadn't bat an eye when the little boy came in. Well aware Bruce had several meetings scheduled that day, she sent him an email saying one of his kids was taking a nap in the reception hall and resolved to look out for the boy herself. Throughout the day, she made sure to check on him often, making sure no one picked him up ran (this was Gotham after all).

He slept soundly for most of her work day, barely shifting. She ended up putting a blanket on him herself during her lunch break and leaving him a water bottle and little snack for when he woke up. She also made sure security kept an eye on him whenever she left for whatever reason.

It was well into the afternoon when Bruce finally replied to her email and asked if his kid was still sleeping downstairs. She said yes, and not long after he arrived on the ground level. He walked up to her desk and asked if his kid had caused her any trouble. She smiled and assured him no.

Then Bruce asked where Tim was.

"Sorry? Tim isn't here today."

Bruce frowned, looking just as confused as she felt. "My apologies. You said one of my wards was asleep here. I assumed it was Tim."

"Oh! No, no, it's not Tim. Well, I don't actually know his name but the little guy has been here since this morning." She gestured to the toddler in question.

Bruce turned around, saw him, and frowned. "He's not one of mine."

"He's not?"

"No. Are you sure he's not an employee's child?" He kept his eyes on the boy, eyes narrowed in thought.

"Yes, I am. Only three employees brought in their children today, and all of them are ten or above. He can't be older than five." She frowned now too, turning to her computer to double check. "I'll send out a company-wide email to be sure. I should have done this sooner. I'm sorry, I was just so sure he was under your care."

"It's alright, May. I'm not upset. I'm just worried about him. When about in the morning did he get here?"

She glanced up, but Bruce was still looking at the sleeping boy. "A little after nine."

"And he's been sleeping all that time?"

"Yes, as far as I'm aware."

"Alright. Thank you for looking after him. I'll take it from here."

"Of course, sir. I'll reach out to you if anyone identifies him."

He nodded appreciatively and walked over to the boy. She watched, frustrated with herself. She's worked as one of Wayne Enterprise's receptionists for over four years. She should have known better than to just assume some random, black haired blue eyed child was Bruce's kid. She should have at least reached out to make sure that was the case.

She sighed as Bruce knelt down by the couch and gently shook the little boy awake, resting her head in the palm of her hand. This poor child. His poor parents. They must be worried sick.

She has to make this right.

---

[sinceileftyoublog]

METZ, Spiritual Cramp, & Stuck Live Show Review: 12/16, Metro, Chicago

BY JORDAN MAINZER

METZ’ self-titled debut album came at a time when guitars re-entered indie rock in full-force. 2012 saw breakout albums from bands like Cloud Nothings, The Men, and Parquet Courts, a paradigm shift from the baroque pop of the 2000s towards something like it was during the heyday of the 90s. But similar to Attack on Memory, METZ was bleak, what seemed at the time like a pummeling expression of desolation after the 2008 financial crisis, akin to the waning optimism from the early Obama years. Ten years and three METZ albums later, the world has gotten worse, and the Toronto-via-Ottawa punk band has retained its hard edge. What better time to celebrate their first and arguably still their finest statement?

At the Metro on Friday, like every other night of their tour, METZ played their first album front to back. As the band walked onto the stage, drummer Hayden Menzies played the abrasive opening notes of “Headache” with the lights still off, remaining dim as guitarist and vocalist Alex Edkins’ siren-like lines began. Only when bassist Chris Slorach entered the fray did we see the band, and they were off to the races, burning through “Get Off”, “Sad Pricks”, and “Rats” at a breakneck pace. From the off-kilter instrumental of “Nausea” to the build of “Wet Blanket” and noisy, dynamic breakdown of “Wasted”, the band showed themselves to be, to quote one of their 2012 contemporaries, masters of their craft.

Including the encore, METZ had time for 5 additional songs, including two from their most recent album Atlas Vending (Sub Pop): “Blind Youth Industrial Park” and the swirling, epic closer “A Boat to Drown In”. II’s “Spit You Out”, a live highlight since it came out, was especially disorienting in its chaos in conjunction with the light show. And, to my pleasant surprise, the band did the motorik “Demolition Row”, released earlier this year as part of a split 7′’ with Adulkt Life. The show served as a reminder that METZ are capable of effectively delving into different subgenres but are still at their best when bashing you over the head with noise.

Opening for METZ were two more punk bands, albeit with different aesthetics. San Francisco’s Spiritual Cramp combined screamy, political post-punk with self-aware, self-deprecating, self-hating dance jams on tracks like “I Feel Bad Bein’ Me” and “The Erasure”. Vocalist Michael Bingham was filled with banter contrasting the bitter cold lack of pretension in Chicago with California’s sadsack sunniness. “You can’t tell if I’m being sarcastic,” he said to the crowd, following up with, “I can’t tell if I’m being sarcastic.” The vagueness of tone is certainly a feature of the band, the type to artfully sample vocals at the same time as featuring a barely-audible-but-theatrically-played tambourine on stage. When Bingham declared, “Fuck the cops, fuck the president, and fuck you, too,” you could sense a sneering sincerity, one that made the band ironically even more likeable.

And taking a victory lap were local heroes Stuck, a year removed from their most recent EP Content That Makes You Feel Good (Exploding In Sound), two years from their debut album Change Is Bad (born yesterday). As such, they played four (!) new, unreleased songs, including jagged set opener “Punisher” and the disco beat-laden “Freak Frequency”. Live, lead vocalist Greg Obis’ yelped personal and sociopolitical litanies echo the urgency of someone like Squid’s Ollie Judge, backed by the band’s gnarly rhythms and burning tempo changes. The jangling tremolo and rusted edges of a song like “Invisible Wall” encapsulated what the band does best: reel you in, but not let you get too comfortable.

[bunnieswithknives]

Dev this is serious stop beatboxing.

[codacheetah]

Your Memory of Touch meta strategy is absolutely hilarious by the way.

Gamer strats

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 118

Everyone is freaking out. The titan tower was broken into, no signs of who it was, and Tim- Robin- is missing. There’s blood on the walls, taunting them, implying that Tim is going through agony, and they can’t deal with another dead Robin, they can’t- 

Meanwhile Tim is bemused, maybe a little concussed because that would explain things maybe, as he’s found himself in a living room full of books and there’s a pair of kids too? One is straight up adoption bait- wait no there’s three, with two of them being adoption bait and the third being a redhead. There’s a trio of small children there already playing by the couch he’s been bundled into. 

Where the heck is his mask- or his bo staff or any of his supplies- is that the fucking Red Hood?! No, couldn’t be, must be the concussion, because why would the Red Hood be feeding him a bowl of soup?

[brucewaynehater101]

The Memory of Bodies AU:

Jason has been making amends with Tim in his own stilted way. He keeps his distance, but he'll put a blanket on Tim when the kid passes out somewhere (since Tim is always falling asleep in random places). The teen will find his favorite snacks in various places. Red Hood has shown vicious protection for Red Robin.

Tim has noticed and acknowledged these changes. As far as Jason is aware, Tim's forgiven him. They're good.

During a YJ mission, a magic user "gifts" Tim nonconsensually with a spell that makes him forget some of his more traumatic memories. One of the memories targeted was the TT attack.

At first, the Bats don't realize Tim's missing any memories. They don't like to talk about it and usually avoid that topic.

All the Bats see is that Tim's shoulders have lost a tension they didn't realize he was carrying. He allows himself to be physically closer to Jason, even going as far as falling asleep on him during a movie. The teen smiles more, makes more jokes, and isn't as guarded around the Waynes.

He wasn't unhappy or distrustful with them before, but he wasn't nearly as open as he becomes post spell.

Eventually, someone makes a comment about TT. Tim asks them what they mean by that.

Cue the Bats freaking out.

Once they figure out it was magic, they have a discussion on whether Tim *should* get his memories back. He's obviously happier like this.

Tim is extremely uncomfortable with the idea of someone controlling his memories and him being unable to remember such important details. He doesn't care if it will cause him to be more stressed out and cold. The idea of him not knowing freaks him out. Besides, what other memories could he be forgetting? What if none of the Bats were there when they happened? What does he not remember?

Anyways, Tim's having a few mental breakdowns.

Jason's having a few mental breakdowns (he thought they were good. He thought Tim trusted him. He thought he made it up to him).

The Bats restore Tim's memories, and he can feel the weight of them as they settle. His eyes become sharper, less bright, and they keep track of the exits as well as everyone in the room. The other Bats knew better, but they still feel slightly disappointed and sorrowful.

[lynaferns]

Do you guys have seen this movie?

Because I have a bunch of memes I drew for it.

[agendercryptidlev]

Torchwood gets massive props from me for using the "character gets tricked into thinking they did something terrible and confesses it to their loved one" trope with the loved one instead of freaking out just going "no you fucking didn't. We're going to figure out what's actually going on here"

[tangledinink]

Swanatello's memory problems hurt me way more than they should Like wtf I read CAS and LFLS I thought I was more immune to this But no tears are streaming down my face at Swanatello not fully remembering his bros aUgh

I offer you-- the first time Swanatello was able to recognize one of his brothers. And, in the same vein, the first time that Swanatello realized that something was wrong.

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