#attack on memory

[honysoytquimalpence]

bela blua disko

[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"

[goryhorroor]

horror sub-genres/techniques: anime horror

[iced-souls]

I couldn’t hold the urge back any longer—

I Don’t Want To Be A Magical Girl (by @ kianamaiart)!! It looks very fun and i am ever so intrigued

[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.

---

[aphroditaeon]

IM LOSING MY MIND AAAAAA I NEED A FIC LIKE THIS SO, SO BADLY

actually one is NOT enough i need A THOUSAND

original on tt by leviymx

[illmoraineakoi]

Just noticed something I thought was very interesting:

Victim depicts the Cursor as being giant in comparison to himself

When in reality this just wasn't true.

Victim's fear and trauma has caused him to re-imagine the Cursor into a much bigger monster than it ever was, something huge and horrible and capable of crushing him like a bug. A scale and strength fitting of how terrifying Victim considers it to be.

As opposed to the little thing barely bigger than his own head.

Except, those drawings look a little familiar...

This is literally Victim's worst nightmares made real.

Something tells me things aren't going to go very well, if the Cursor does end up being summoned into Rocket Corp...

[azureblooet]

Ok a concept for the “sif is out” au:

What if Siffrin starts… not remembering, but adjusting?

Every loop Mirabelle speaks up in the corridor to go find the switch, but eventually…

They start stopping before she speaks up.

He starts finding the keys just a little bit faster.

He doesn’t remember but his body starts to. Some part of him starts adjusting with each loop.

“I mean he hardly has a memory to begin with so why would wiping it reset him?”

Or at least that’s what Loop explains it as.

It’s convenient at first, but…

He starts remembering how cold the party has been.

He starts avoiding eye contact with Odile.

They jump at Mirabelle’s voice sometimes.

He starts avoiding the observatory room.

Folding in disagreements faster.

After countless loops everyone notices that Siffrin starts one level higher now.

He’s smiling more. But there’s something wrong about it.

Everyone notices when he smiles at the mirror for the first time.

They just assume it might be a tiny remnant, not much to be concerned about.

They notice that his face stops changing, the smile remains.

Stock still.

Practiced.

Then…

He stops comforting Bonnie after they snap at him one loop.

[ Siffrin got the memory of Something! They shouldn’t remember this.]

[ When equipped The rogue may find things faster! Guess the loops can’t catch everything~]

[chimerical-daydreams]

pre wish king battle portraits bc im Normal about him

[thefallenangel2008]

Thinking about how either of the Stans react to physical contact when having a panic attack. Ford, a man who usually isn't particularly too fond of touching other people/other people touching him NEEDING physical contact in order to calm down, like a hug for example. And Stan, a man who's usually the one to initiate physical contact and being happy when other people do it first (even if he's never gonna admit it) being TERRIFIED of being touched when panicking which also ends up worsening his panic attacks.

[stars-obsession-pit]

A black-haired, amnesiac teen comes to in an alleyway, hunched over an unearthly shadow.

There’s something in his mouth. Instincts kick in, and he chomps down, shattering the item. Whatever it was, its shards rapidly melt into a burst of liquid, and the shadow below him dissolves away with a shrill screech. He instinctively swallows the fluid, and it burns like acid down his throat. From it, a strange warmth suffuses through his whole being.

Something clicks in his head.

Jason Todd. His name is Jason Todd. He’d forgotten that, before.

He coughs. A few drops of the liquid spatter onto the ground, briefly illuminating the pavement in a vivid green glow before rapidly evaporating into the air.

He pushes himself to his feet shakily, leaning against the wall beside him for support while he catches his breath.

What the hell happened to him? What had he just eaten?

His recent memories were still muddled, feeling instinctual rather than logical. Not quite human. His older memories were still clear though, providing a bit more insight.

And the most recent of those memories was of… pain.

A timer ticking down. Trying to escape. Hoping desperately to be saved. Getting neither. The bomb going off.

He’d died.

He’d died.

Yet here he was. Alive, if disoriented. In an alley, not a warehouse.

After a couple more minutes of pulling himself together, Jason pushes off the wall and starts to walk towards the end of the alleyway. He has to find a way to contact Bruce. He’ll know what to do, surely.

[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.