#fucking memory issues

[korespace]

I’ve been writing!

So I got locked out of my old Ao3, so all those works are lost (I cry cause I really wanted to continue the Ouihaw stuff but I can’t), so my new Ao3 is where I’ve been sparsely posting fics on there. There’s not alot up cause writers block has been kicking my fucking ass! but there’s stuff so yeah, if you liked my writing before, please check out the stuff I’ve done since then. I want to do more mini one shots and also focus on my big project too! 

https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoreSpace/works

[svtskneecaps]

i also just want to point out the qsmp members' commitment to like never letting the inactive members die. like dantdm logged on twice and is canonically dead and everyone continues to blame mysterious happenstance on him. spreen is canonically dead and yet people are still like namedropping him even tho the house façade he built has been demolished and also probably consumed by a mountain. they meme on kameto who's barely been on except that time he was a fed spy that was iconic as hell. they just immortalize their members and they're always so happy to see old faces come back and it lowkey makes me emotional lmfaoo like missa barely logged on for a while but goddamn nobody forgot his name bc philza can't go one day without mentioning him and mariana barely logs on but every time fit saw the homeless mariana in roier's city no matter what he'd stop dead and tell it "come home" and when slime came back to the server for elections after having logged off for the last like two months everyone was still excited to meet him bc the others had kept his memories on the server fresh and alive, maxo died canonically in the nuke and pierre pasted his face all over the server, luzu vanished for months and we never forgot him either thanks to the computers and foolish's wack ass family tree. like when purgatory teams were chosen and team red constantly joked about how it would be so over for the other teams once germán logged on despite the fact that germán had only ever logged on ONCE, the way they cheered when they snatched rubius in the split of green despite the fact that rubius hadn't logged on more than twice since march. they just keep the names alive all the time and it's like

it just makes me really happy to see. like it makes me really happy. like the admin team and the members alike are like 'no way in HELL are we letting your memory go' like damn once ur on isla quesadilla you really are stuck as an islander forever :D

[valtsv]

made a curry specifically so i could eat it with greek yoghurt (not because it's too spicy for me it's just tastier that way) and then forgot about the yoghurt until i'd already eaten it because it was so good and i was hungry

[levemetal]

Day 2: Timeloop / Xiao Qi and Jiu Ge

I am cringe and I am not even free

Feel free to reuse this idea but 24 hours are not enough for me to finish an entire comic. I could have taken the simpler prompt but nOOOOOO timeloop is too tempting. Past me why are we like this

[0fps]

BLADE ❖ death approaches until your sin is cleansed, my vengeance will pursue you

[jorrated]

idk man i wont hold comics from the 90's to modern standards of representation of mental health, but how Mighty's dad was written always rubbed me the wrong way

[electricdisco]

Sometimes I draw these idiots

[starry-bi-sky]

i have... ✨Danyal Al Ghul Headcanons✨ but specifically for my yaelokre danyal oneshot

There's also the tumblr post here but I recommend the link in the title because its the ao3 version, and that one is edited and has some stuff in it that's not in the tumblr post, and will be the version I'm using.

So for summary: this Danyal is also from a Demon Siblings Au where Danny is five years older than Damian. However, things turned out a bit differently, and Danny and Damian had a fantastic relationship with one another. Danny loved music and regularly came up with songs to sing to Damian with. Specifically the folk band Yaelokre's EP "Hayfields" (seriously go fucking listen to it its sooo good. Harpy Hare is the second song but its my favorite. Special shoutout to @gascansposts for introducing the band to me)

He falls off a train when he's twelve and Damian is seven while the two of them and Talia are on mission. He ends up with magically induced amnesia and wakes up in Arkansas while the Fentons are on their yearly Divorce-iversary visit to Aunt Alica, and since he can only remember his name, he ends up being taken into their care.

---------------

Yaelokre Danny has the same facial scar as Things in Threes Danyal, since he was initially another version of him where things turned out better. I'm debating on whether or not I should take it away however, and give him a different scar (maybe from when he fell off the train?), just because the scar is a pretty key identifier for Ti3 Danyal.

-----------------

Danny frequently visits Aunt Alicia in Arkansas! Well, only after he gets settled in and stuff. He doesn't really like the city that much and prefers the countryside where Alicia lives. I know she lives in a cabin but I'm changing it to a farm, so she puts Danny to work and gets him to help her.

I don't want to confine his hobbies to only being star stuff, because people tend to have more than one hobby and I feel like it reduces him to one-dimensionality, so he likes to garden, and learns guitar. His room becomes filled with plants, and he turns their roof into a rooftop greenhouse right below to OPS Center.

He has a complex relationship with the weapons from his past, but he's not... like... appalled by it? When he finds his weapons in the Fenton attic all he thinks is that they're his weapons, and he starts carrying a knife on him afterwards. Essentially he becomes fascinated with weaponry because its one of the few physical ties he has to his past, and while he's not training like he is in the League, he allows his strong muscle memory to guide him through his katas.

Danny likes climbing things. This causes Problems For Everyone Else.

----------------

Danny was not the "kinder Al Ghul" in the League. His kindness extended to his brother and family, and that's it. To everyone else he had high expectations out of them, and the pride you'd expect from the grandson of Ra's Al Ghul and trained by its top members. While he wasn't like, unnecessarily cruel or anything, he wasn't merciful either.

This transfers post-train fall as him coming off as no-nonsense and unforgiving. He's not fond of the idea of giving people second chances, and is skeptical of the idea. He's disgusted by incompetency and views it as an unforgivable offense, especially if he thinks that the person should know better, although he's not sure why. Some egocentrism for the soul.

He doesn't like being touched by anyone who isn't family, and gets irritated when anyone grabs him or holds onto him for extended amounts of time. Dash has gotten hit so many times. With Jack Fenton's tendency for abrupt physical affection, it doesn't make it any better. I'd argue it'd make it worse because Danny doesn't want to be touched more often than not.

------------------

Danyal had a red scarf in the League that he wore on his last mission, it came off before he fell off and caught itself on the roof. Damian still has it and took it with him to Wayne Manor. He's got it locked in his room and takes it out when he's alone and missing Danny the most. One time he forgot to put it away before leaving his room, and Dick was visiting the manor for something and found it. Damian found him holding it and freaked out.

Dick could only say "I've never seen you wear this, Damian, this is really pretty--" before Damian shoved him to the floor and stole it out of his hands, before screaming at him; "Don't touch this! You don't ever touch this! This is mine! You hear me!?"

It caused such a commotion that the rest of the family present came to see what the fuss was about, and Damian kicked them all out of his room. Dick is the one brother Damian's the closest with, so the fact he reacted so strongly shocked them all.

This is likely what leads to the "Danyal" conversation.

[mamawasatesttube]

not to be a bitch but like. i can never take "ohhhh kon is soOOoOoo sad about tim/ber uwaahhhh he's in love with tim but it's unrequited waaahhhh" angst seriously because like... i get it, the only thing you know about kon is that he's the other half of a popular m/m tim ship, but uh. rebirth kon is living an existential fucking nightmare. i think he's got way bigger fish to fry than whether the tim who only kind of remembers him at all is dating some other guy lmao

[helga-grinduil]

Okay, so. Um. Chapter 423.

Seeing people's reactions I have to say some things. And let me preface this by saying that I don't believe this is truly it. But.

The issue isn't even that Izuku (seemingly) failed to save the person he wanted to save from AFO (well, it is an issue, actually, but not the main point. Also, the fact that his and vestiges' plan to reach Tenko is also what ensured Tomura's death is just so... ), and it's not that he's weirdly distant and cold in this chapter.

It's the fact that not a single one of them actually acknowledged anything that they saw and heard in Shigaraki's mind. Neither of them talked about what AFO told Tomura - the fact that Tomura didn't say anything about what he learned about his quirk, his purpose and the fact that he never truly wanted to kill his family is especially mind-boggling. And Deku didn't say anything about the revelation that Tomura never really had a chance or a choice from the very start either. There was no self-relfection on either side, no real conversation, and there also was no real understanding between the two being reached. It's the fact that Deku instantly stopped caring or wondering about Tenko/Tomura the moment AFO came back, being completely willing to pulverise his body when just a few chapters ago he refused to do that when Nana told him to. It's the fact that he didn't react to Kurogiri pleading for Tomura and Bakugou just killed (???? maybe not, it's hard to understand) the man. It's the fact that the vestiges still being alive and Nana saving Tomura (oh hey, guess her whole family actually all died to AFO, unable to truly smile) was off-screened.

This is not people blaming Izuku. This is just people complaining about straight up bad writing.

Even if Tenko is still alive (And Kurogiri wasn't killed by Bakugou too, but I feel like Kurogiri is just too doomed to survive anyway), that doesn't erase the weirdness that this chapter was. It would still be salvageable, I guess, depending on what happens next, but good lord, the damage was certainly done.

And if Tenko is really dead, but we'll just see more of Midoriya's reaction to that in the following chapters, this would still be fucking horrible.

I love Deku. I love his emotions, how genuine he is, how empathetic he is. He is just a kid forced into an awful situation. This is not a jab at him as much as it is a jab at the author and the writing here. Because how in the world does the protagonist fail at doing what he wanted to do harder than the supporting cast with their villains? Why was Toga and Uraraka's final chapter more genuine and emotional that THIS - the protagonist and the main antagonist's last conversation????? Why was Ochako more upset about realising that Toga is about to kill herself than Deku was in those chapters?

[iamfuckingsorry]

"Do you know where we are going next?" I asked ART.

Y'know what, I think maybe I don't need any more Murderbot books. I think maybe ending things here is fucking perfect and as much as I love Wells's writing I'm genuinely not sure it can get better for me.

Like, so much of the books are about MB learning how to be a person, about becoming okay with being a complete individual with everything it entails. The first thing it does once it's actually allowed to decide on its own is it runs away from it all (admittedly to go on a mission to confirm some things about its past, because it genuinely just wants to be *good*). It shoves all its emotions away as much as it's able to. Then shit happens, and it makes its first friends, makes decisions based on these friendships, goes through a lot of emotionally intense situations...

And we get to this point here. MB having zero doubts about going with ART says a lot about its relationship with ART, but it also says a lot about its relationship with its humans - it knows that wherever it goes, when it comes back, the humans will still be there. Its humans actively acknowledge its struggles with being a now-free SecUnit and MB is willing to entertain the discussions to an extent and share information about its deeply personal experiences. Hell, System Collapse ends with MB admitting it might be somewhat broken, but that's okay as long as it can keep doing its job, and agreeing to basically do counselling - this is the guy what would rewatch its favourite TV show again and again in order to avoid acknowledging it even had Emotions a couple books back.

Reading this, I know that MB will be okay. It has hopes and goals and genuinely believes in itself and it has an amazing support system that its willing to lean on for the first time in its life. I'm convinced it'll go on to do great things with ART. And that's really the only thing I need to know.

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

"Jason was the happy robin" this, "jason was the angry robin" that. Let's all be fully honest here Jason was the lonely robin

[beanghostprincess]

Now that I've been talking about Sabo's eye... I wish I knew how to draw to show you but-- I have a very specific view when it comes to Sabo's design.

I think he shouldn't have an eye, for starters. He should have a very fucked up scar and no eye at all. He wears a glass eye sometimes but it's funny to him to just... Not wear it at all. Also, Koala finds it disgusting and creepy the way he jokes about it but Luffy loves every second of it.

Not to mention that the scar isn't only on his face but pretty much all half of his body. But already knew that.

The thing is- I really, really, really liked him with that missing tooth when he was a kid. I loved it. He was adorable. And I think that he should get into a fight and lose the same tooth so Luffy goes "Oh! You look like when we were little!" and Sabo decides to ignore the thought of getting another tooth because it makes Luffy happy and also it looks cool. So now he has a missing tooth and he looks hotter.

So, yeah, missing eye. Missing tooth. Scars all over his body. AND! He can't hear from one ear. Right ear? It's alright. Perfect hearing. The left one, though? A fucking mess. And he often uses that as an excuse to say he isn't hearing things he refuses to hear, like, idk, Koala telling him to do his work.

His leg is also a bit too messed up and sometimes he has difficulty walking. Which isn't a problem anymore when he eats the Mera Mera fruit, but it still bothers him. So the metal pipe is mostly to beat the shit out of people but also to walk. It's just that nobody knows that bit.

Also, random outfits I found on pinterest that I imagine Sabo wearing because my mind has no limits:

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

a knife in the dark

[adar/oc]

This is a slightly unhinged WIP AU for my longfic, Awake, Arise or Be For Ever Fall'n. Highly recommend (ask/beg/implore) you to read at last the first like, 8 chapters of that first or you'll be... um... maybe a lil confused? PREMISE: Erenyë is reembodied in Valinor, but Mandos shrouds her memories of Utumno, hoping to spare her pain in her new life. But she is restless in Aman, sensing that something is missing... She boards a ship heading for Middle Earth, hoping to discover just what that is. [DON'T @ ME ON REINCARNATION MECHANICS, THIS IS PURELY A NONSENSE DRABBLE THING THAT WILL HOPEFULLY EVENTUALLY LEAD TO SMUT BUT MORE REALISTICALLY WILL JUST BE A LOT OF RIP-YOUR-HEART-OUT ANGST BECAUSE APPARENTLY THAT'S ALL I DO HERE. 🫠 ]

She makes her voyage on an elven ship that is nearly empty.

Why would you go across the sea, the other elves ask her, mouths agape, in the days before her departure. Bliss lies here in the West—you will find little comfort on the shores of Middle Earth.

Erenyë cannot answer them, cannot explain why the eastern expanse calls her so. She has heard many among the eldar who made passage home from the Hither Lands speak of the sea-longing that precipitated their journey—but this feels like something even stronger, a yearning for a place, yes, but something more… something that she cannot name.

Whatever it is, she surmises it must be the reason she has never felt quite at home in Valinor, even surrounded by her Noldoran kindred, the ones who had remained after the terrible kinslaying of old.

As she watches the waves pound against the sharply angled bow, wind whipping through her hair, she speaks a silent promise to the waiting horizon: I am coming.  

...

The tides of fate flow, and the sea is treacherous.

Their vessel is beset by perilous storms that rage by day and night, and no prayer to Ulmo seems capable of assuaging them. Their instruments fail, and the gale proves too powerful to hold their northward course to Lindon.

She asks how far off course the storm has flung them.  

Toward the Southlands is the answer.  

...

They make port in an abandoned Numenorean harbor that the captain calls Pelargir, and it is here that Erenyë takes her first steps into Middle Earth.

The landscape is lush and green, and different from Valinor—for it strikes her as more rugged and wild than the place from which she’d come. The climate is temperate and the air is moist, the trees here are massive, with thick trunks and sprawling branches, growing as they do only in Oromë’s woods across the sea. The forest calls to her—as all forests do—and she wanders eagerly toward the treeline, ready to lose herself in this new world.

But she is stopped by raised voices as a party of men emerges from the woods with warning. They are downtrodden, starving and traumatized, bearing the scars of war and disaster. In due course she learns that they have fled their homeland, several leagues to the east and over the mountains.

With terror-laced voices, they speak of a fire mountain, lately awakened, belching fire and cloud so high that it swallows the sunlight, rendering the land a waste, overrun by orcs. They answer to a single leader, the men tell her—a villain who calls himself Adar.

....

Adar.

It is a perplexing name for a servant of darkness, an elvish word.

She ponders the mystery late into the night, after the newly established encampment falls still. The elves had wasted no time in offering aid to the refugees, and Erenyë had done her part, though the forest still calls to her, insistent.

She considers going off alone, but the threat of orcs roaming the hills seeking captives to return to this Adar gives her pause. She knows enough of orcs to understand that the safest time to move through their lands is in daylight, and though she has never encountered one, memories of the stories that had reached her ears in Valinor, and the accounts of the Southlanders strike a deep chord of fear within her breast. She passes the night restless, yearning to roam.

At dawn, a small party of elves from the ship sets off toward the mountains, and Erenyë accompanies them eagerly, taking up a sword and dagger from one of the men who had not survived the night. The elven leader, Telemnion, tells them they must discover as much as they can about Adar and his legions so that a report can be sent north with all speed to High King Gil-glad.

They set a northeastern course that takes them up steep hills as they near the borders of the Southlands. As the day wanes, she catches the scent of smoke upon the air—ash and scorched pine, the smell of instantaneous destruction. Without warning, she doubles over, bracing herself with one hand against the nearest tree, retching.

“Are you well, Erenyë?” Telemnion hurries to her side, his eyes wide with concern.

In truth, she cannot say why the smell affects her so—she only has the keen sense of having experienced it before.

Her mind is filled with visions of ruined land—even before they emerge from the trees on a high precipice just before nightfall and see the blackened remains of the Southlands for themselves—and she knows that the visions are not simply abstractions. They feel like memories.

But it does not make sense—there had been no destruction of that kind in Valinor. Yet as they stop to rest, she cannot shake the sensation of touching ruined ground: of trailing her fingers over blackened, hollow trees, over the bleached bones of dead animals, over ash-laden earth.

As day gives way to night, she watches the skies above turn color. It is not the natural, blue-black of a peaceful night, but a wicked orange glow, cast by flames and smoke. It is yet another strangely familiar sight, and it fills her with blackest dread.

...

Several nights later, they are attacked by a band of orcs.

They are far outnumbered, and Telemnion cries out to them, telling them to run. With a pounding heart, Erenyë flies as fast as she can through the trees. When she’s confident there is enough distance between herself and the skirmish, she climbs, seeking for the safety of the upper branches of a great oak tree.

In the distance, she sees torches gleaming, and the sound of orc horns pierces the night air. She hugs the trunk of the tree, pressing her body close as though hoping it might open and absorb her into the safety of its bark as the orc army presses closer.

They are chanting something in unison—something that sounds victorious—and it is not long before they are close enough for her to understand it.

Adar… Adar… Adar…

The orcs continue their advance toward her tree. She considers climbing down and fleeing, but the chant soon falls silent, and the flickering torches stop moving.

A new voice fills the air.

It is low and husky, speaking the guttural language of the enemy. She cannot understand a word, but she tips her ear toward it, for there is something, some phantom quality about it that she cannot place. The trees are close in the glen, and with great care, she makes her way from one to the next, sidling toward the voice.

The orc army comes into view, and she can see their leader standing before them. His back is toward her—she can see only his silhouette against the torchlight. He is tall and slender—strangely elven, compared to the other orcs, the majority of whom are stooped and stocky. His presence is commanding, though he does not raise his voice beyond what is required to adequately fill the clearing.

He finishes his address with what is clearly a command for the uruks to set up camp, for they break out into groups, busying themselves with assembling tents and unfurling bedrolls.

Adar, for his part, watches the flurry of activity, then retreats into the shadows of the treeline. He is outside the torchlight now, but Erenyë follows his shape in the dark as it moves deeper into the forest. Keeping a safe distance, she scrambles down from her tree, closing her hand around the dagger she carries. Her heart begins to thrum again, pounding with a mixture of intrigue and terror.

He weaves gracefully through the trees, making no sound. There is something about his bearing that seems ancient, as though he is a part of the old forest itself and she creeps closer, fearing that at any moment, he might be swallowed by the trees, absorbed into them.

Dawn is breaking when he pauses in a clearing, and she realizes that the trees around them have started to thin, their leaves charred. The scent of smoke is stronger here, and with a soundless gasp, she discovers that they have reached the line of the fire-mountain’s destruction.

He kneels down, and she is struck by how suddenly small he appears. The sight of his silhouette stirs something in her—something that originates from that same place of strange recollection.

Why, her heart cries in anguish, does he seem familiar?

Without a thought, she steps closer.

He is crouched beside a green sapling that the fire had somehow spared, fingering the delicate leaves with a reverent—almost loving—tenderness.

She takes another step, disturbing the ground in her wake. A twig snaps beneath her foot; his head whips around toward the sound, and she flies at him, unsheathing her dagger with a cry.

They collide, tussling in the ashes. Erenyë scrambles and struggles with all her might until she lands on top with a dagger to his throat, gasping to reclaim the wind that was knocked out of her in their skirmish. His face comes together in her field of view: grey, mottled skin, covered in scars, thin lips, and shockingly deep, green eyes. She loses herself in them for a moment, as she steps seemingly out of time itself, spellbound by their depths. Her heart accelerates, threatening to batter itself out of its cage within her chest. She leans closer, bearing down on the dagger that is still pressed against the flesh of his neck.

He draws in a sharp breath as the blade bites into his skin, drawing a few drops of black blood. His eyes close, and his exhale is a soft moan, she presumes of pain, but she recognizes it as excitement, somehow. Pleasure.

She squeezes own her eyes shut, striving to steady herself, for it seems as though the ground itself is now swaying beneath her. She feels it again—the familiarity, the certainty that she has heard that sound before—no, not just heard it, she has been the cause of it.

He is no longer struggling—his body is languid beneath her, boneless. She clenches her teeth, confused, weighing her next move. He is the enemy; he and his army are responsible for the fire-mountain, for the destruction of the forest, for the torment of the Southlanders. She should let the dagger finish its work—drag it across his throat, spill the rest of his black blood here upon the ashen ground.

He murmurs something, something in a language that sounds like elvish, but it is older: an archaic form—one that she has only ever seen preserved on ancient scrolls. A dream, this is a dream, he rasps over and over, in that same low, husky tone that sends a shiver rolling down her spine, but not one borne entirely of fear.

The sound of the ancient language comforts her. Inexplicably, she thinks of stars, and the sound of water falling gently over stone. 

She feels him shift and opens her eyes, preparing to defend herself. But he does not attack—instead, his hands seek for her hips, sinking softly into her flesh as he drags in another quaking breath. He wears an iron gauntlet on one hand, and it digs into her side, stopping just on the edge of pain.

Her stomach roils at the sight of this creature, this thing, this orc touching her, but her skin tingles beneath his fingers, even through her tunic.

She lets the dagger drag another quarter of an inch across his throat—she isn’t sure if she intends it to be a warning or an invitation—and he groans again. Tremors roll steadily through her body now; she feels she is dancing on the edge of a dangerous precipice, and she does not know whether to seek for safety or let herself fall into it.

He opens his mouth, and breathes a single word:

“Erenyë…”

Fear wins out—the sound of his name upon her tongue sends an earthquake through her body and she moves automatically out of shock and terror. With a strangled yell, she yanks the dagger into the air. He tries to rise, but she is too quick, slamming the butt of it against his temple—hard.

He falls back, unconscious, and she clamps a hand over her mouth to stop the scream that threatens to break free.

tagging @catz4ever @toddthekiwibird @eowyn7023 HERE YA GO MY FELLOW BADDYDADDY BRIGADERS

Read part 2 | part 3

[apollos-boyfriend]

i probably have some sort of dissociative disorder but i have a job so idrc about that rn

[ultra-raging-ghost]

Bad: i dont want a creation of mine to harm any of the eggs so i wanna make sure you guys can have offhand totems Dapper: we can claim tubbo made it! Bad: but i'd know i made it! At least for now i would!