#memory recovery

[creature-wizard]

If the same memory recovery techniques that supposedly help people remember ritual abuse can also make them "remember" seeing celebrities turn into lizards, you gotta stop and ask yourself why you're trusting these techniques at all.

[churchofchurch]

Me: upset about the RvB season 13 ending

Fiancé: go write some memory loss and recovery Grurch.

Me: upset because that's another WIP in the WIP pile.

So anyways, I'm 849 words into this one

[misscloudiedays]

🎂🎊

[orchidscript]

Felidae Familiaris (Henry)

Been working really hard on the second installment of Henry’s story, and I wanted to share a bit of dialogue that I’ve been grinding through. It’s a conversation between Henry and Carter. No prose, only dialogue, which is strange for me, and I’m not giving you anymore than that to go on! Enjoy!

The scientific name for house cat that is the title makes sense, I promise. Just hang with me and my lame attempts at being clever.

warnings | bbu, memory loss, memory recovery, angst, discussion of sobriety.

~*~*~

“You’ve been… focused lately, on what truth means for you. If someone is being honest with you, if you can believe a story you can’t remember… if someone can be a liar if they believed wholeheartedly something that turned out to be wrong/untrue. You’re still there, I think. In a different way.”

“Sounds about right...”

“You’re doing well with it.”

“I’m not. I feel like a goldfish in a plastic bag. I’m stuck in my own fucking head... everyone’s just been really kind. I don’t remember much, but. But my gut trusts them.”

“Like I said. You’re doing really well with it all.”

“You’re all waiting for me to snap aren’t you?”

“Waiting for it, expecting it, preparing for it when it does happen however it does. It’s all the same to us. We’re just happy you’re awake.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I. I feel like I’ve been a lot to handle.”

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you deserved the time and space. It’s been a lot to come to terms with. You’re in school. You needed to do some thinking. I can’t tell you I love you and not give you that.”

“Not for nothing, but... You said we broke up. A few years ago. Because of me.”

“We did. That… that was different, Hen- Aiden.”

“It doesn’t sound all that different.”

“It was. Really. We were immature, first thing. Second thing. You were struggling and hurting, and I didn’t have it in me to understand the way you needed me to. I tried to help in all the wrong ways and ended up hurting the both of us when it was too much. You didn’t want help until you realized just how far gone you were.”

“No one’s told me what was wrong with me.”

“It’s not something we — or you — like to revisit.”

“Tell me?”

“Hen-, Aiden, I shouldn’t-.”

“You don’t know how to call me anything else, do you?”

“You’ve only ever been…”

“Been what?”

“You’ve only ever been Henry to me. I’ve never known you any other way.”

“Just Henry?”

“Just Henry… Henry, Hen, H. Haz once, but it you hated it and laughed. Fritz, Fitz, Fitzy, honey, baby, babe… Gorgeous, sexy… Mine… Yours… Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. You’re… you really love Henry, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I love you.”

“I’m not Henry.”

“Not by name, no. But… I wish you remembered this, but I’ll say it again for you. Whoever you are, whatever you call yourself, whatever you end up doing, I love you. And… Aiden, I’m alright if you don’t love me back.”

“Are you really?”

“Not really, but I’m better at understanding someone where they’re at than I used to be. Because of you.”

“What did I do, Carter?”

“You… you were coping, by drinking. You hid it well. None of us knew. You were basically functioning until you, you suddenly weren’t. I, I bought you a lot of what you had hidden in your bedroom, and the guilt about killed me. I didn’t know what I’d been doing. You started therapy, you were getting better…”

“But?”

“You gave up. You quit going and didn’t tell anyone. Then, then you got me to take you to a party, at school, and you were drunk… And I couldn’t do it anymore…”

“You broke up with me.”

“Yeah.”

“Am. Am I better now?”

“You are. You’ve been sober for… four years. You’re doing really, really well.”

“But I don’t remember any of that… Is that why I’m not going home with you?”

“Yeah. June and Caleb, they know your warning signs and how to look for them better than I do. They don’t want the stress of this to send you back to that mental place.”

“Makes sense.”

“They should have told you that.”

“They’re doing their best… You can’t take care of me that way, I take it?”

“I know my limits. But I’m not pushing you off. I’m going to be there, I’m going to help. I’ll bring over photos, your clothes, Pixie if I can get her in the cat carrier. She misses you. You have some journals, in your desk, that you wrote during all of it. You still keep one, but I don’t know where that is. I’ll try to find them all. I’ve never read them, don’t worry, but. It might give you an idea on what you’ve been through.”

“I have a cat?”

“Yeah, Pixie. She’s an absolute menace, just like you. You feed her turkey bacon and act like you don’t know why she starts yelling when you turn the stove top on.”

“Wait… is she fluffy? And white-ish?”

“Mhmm.”

“Blue eyes?”

“Yup.”

“I remember that. Her. I remember my cat, but… but didn’t know she was my cat.”

“She’s deaf too. That’s harder to remember.”

“Do I… Do I knock on the floor to get her attention?”

“You remember that too?”

“Yeah.”

~*~*~

tags | @neuro-whump @burtlederp @hackles-up @deluxewhump @whumpingupastorm @peppers-and-peaches @justanothermaltesegirl @whumptywhumpdump @whumphours @whump-only @thatsthewhump​ @boxboysandotherwhump​ @pebbledriscoll​ @kixngiggles​ @rosesareviolentlyread​ @keeper-of-all-the-random-things​

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Any Questions?

For @whumptober2021 day 10, I chose alternate prompt 14: Battlefield

CW: BBU, Whumper POV, referenced torture, referenced pet whump, recorded past torture & some ableism

Follow-up to I Did Not Sign Up For This and part 2 of the opening salvo of Speak Out. 

Michael belongs to @card-games-and-pain

Her phone rings, and Karen frowns at the number. The CEO never calls her at home, at least not on her days off. 

She glances up at the clock - middle of the afternoon on a Saturday, no special time really - and then picks up the slim black rectangle, swiping her thumb up, placing the screen against her ear.

“This is Karen Renford-” His first sentence has her back straighten and her heart skips a beat.“Sir? What do you mean-”

He cuts her off again. Karen is up and out of her seat by the time he’s spoken two full sentences, heading for her home office door, past the broken cane she’s hung on the wall.

By his third sentence, she’s halfway down the stairs, running even, her breath caught in her throat. There’s an unfamiliar feeling setting her pulse to thrumming, a hummingbird’s wingbeat trapped in her wrists, her throat, behind her ribs.

She hears Peter’s bedroom door open. “Madam?”

She ignores him. His footsteps - and Michael’s - are soft behind her on the stairs as she makes it to the landing, glancing to the side. Sebastian is in the kitchen working on a complicated marinade for tomorrow’s dinner, and he doesn’t look up from his focus on his work.

She catches sight of the top of Dex’s head. He’s lying on the couch, taking a break. He needs them more and more, as his body shows the effects of his two decades with her. For some reason, lately, she’s been allowing it.

Maybe she’s getting soft in her old age.

“Dex, turn on the news,” She says quickly, and he shifts into immediate motion, sitting up and nodding, picking up the remote. None of his motions are fast enough and the CEO is still shouting in her ear.

“Dex, channel five! Now!”

His hands shake at the tone in her voice, but he manages to obey. The screen flickers on.

“-proof that WRU lies,” A youngish man in his thirties is saying, staring directly into the screen. He smiles, wide blue eyes in a pretty face, black curls in a sort of artful disarray around his head. Karen vaguely recognizes him, but can’t quite remember why. 

He stands next to a redhead who also seems familiar somehow, and there are athletes sitting at a long table on either side of him, still wearing their nation’s colors, holding photographs. Karen’s eyes scan the photos in their hands and the strange, unpleasant feeling within her intensifies. 

She can’t identify it. It’s like disgust, or repulsion, but somehow entirely different than either of those feelings. 

Her heart feels like it’s racing within her, her normally calm pulse a hummingbird’s vibration. Karen finds her breath catching, hitching, and when she looks down her hands are shaking.

What is this?

The black-haired man pauses, and his identity clicks into place - Owen Grant’s missing pet, the Vincent Shield clone who has been gone for… what, nearly ten years now? Has it been so long?

The young man pauses, tilting his head to the side. “My name was Liam Harker,” He says, taking a deep breath. He is holding tightly to the hand of the redhead next to him. “My name was Liam Harker, and I did not sign up for this.”

There is a sudden roar from the journalists at the press conference, shouting questions rapid-fire, gasps of shock, indignation. 

Dex, sitting next to her, claps his hands together three times, so loudly Karen jumps.

She never jumps.

Peter, Michael, and Sebastian run into the room, standing just behind Karen’s pristine white couch, staring wide-eyed at the screen as the chyron along the bottom of the press conference reads ‘WRU LIES’... PET LIBERATION INTERRUPTS 20XX SUMMER OLYMPICS… AKIO NAKAMURA CALLS SURPRISE PRESS CONFERENCE TO REVEAL UNTOLD SECRETS OF CORPORATE GIANT WRU… 

“What the fuck is going on, Karen?!” Timothy Rahm is shouting but his voice seems oddly tinny and far away, as if her phone isn’t against her ear but maybe all the way across the room. Karen’s mouth opens, but she can’t think of an answer. “I thought we sponsored the goddamn Olympics teams!”

“We… we do, Tim,” Karen says, her mind racing. She sees a total lack of reaction on Dex’s face, and Sebastian’s - and terror on Peter’s. Poor sweet dim Peter, who knows only that something has happened that is terribly wrong, and is likely too stupid to understand what.

Karen ignores that she herself doesn’t quite understand yet either.

She also ignores that Michael’s expression has nothing to do with fear and is instead one of barely contained glee.

The redhead steps back up to the podium, his long fingers closing on either side to hold himself up. He looks scared in a way the other man didn’t. He waits while the uproar begins, slowly, to die down. Reporters start to go quiet, one by one. The gymnast beside him - Akio Nakamura, it must be, he was favored to win the gold and sure enough, he’s wearing his gold medal right now - leans against him and gives him a nudge.

Karen can tell he’s mouthing, or saying, you can do this.

The redhead’s voice shakes much harder when he speaks than the other’s did. “I, I, I didn’t sign up, either. I’m, um. I was… I was, was, was just… I was s-sixteen when my, when, when my aunt told them to to to to-to take me.”

Karen’s eyes close, slowly, but then she forces them open again. She can’t not watch this.

On the screen behind him, the image shifts to a photo of the redhead much younger, smiling, in a professional gymnastics uniform. Next to him is a woman, clearly his mother, with an arm around his waist, smiling brilliantly. On the other, what must be his father - they’re nearly identical - arm around his shoulders. The father’s eyes are focused somewhere off to the right and he’s not smiling, but there’s a warmth in him nonetheless.

“My parents were-...” The redhead’s voice catches and he looks down, his fingers working at the podium. He looks up again. “Murdered. When, when, when I was, um, fifteen. I went to live with my, my, um, my aunt who w-w-worked-... Aki, I can’t, I I I I can’t, I can’t do th-this-”

Akio Nakamura slides an arm around him and holds tightly, whispering into his ear. There’s a rush of whispering among the reporters, so loud it’s audible through the television screen. A girl holding a photo of a young man looks over, her face gentling, and then she stands, walking around behind the two to the other side of the redhead, laying her hand over his. Next to her, a young man wearing a Canadian uniform takes her hand and stands as well. 

Karen’s stomach sinks as, one by one, every single person at the table stands up and holds onto one another. The countries they represent are incredibly varied, and WRU’s activities are not legal in all of them, but they have one thing in common that Karen recognizes immediately:

They are countries where WRU’s Acquisitions teams operate. 

The redhead looks up. 

“Fucking high-definition television,” Karen whispers. She can see the tear tracks on the redhead’s face. Which means so can anyone else watching, nationwide. “Tim, call in the PR people.”

“I’ve already done that-”

“We’re going to need incredible reputation management, Tim.”

“I realize that, Karen.”

“Someone’s going to need to go to prison. At least ten someones.”

He goes quiet, then. “Couple of handlers?”

“Maybe, let me think, just give me a moment, please, Tim-”

“My aunt,” The redhead says, suddenly, more strongly than he’s been speaking. “My, my aunt sold me. To WRU. I was, um. I was seventeen. She sold me on my birthday.”

The image behind him shifts again. Same boy, a little later, in a WRU intake video, sitting at a table. There’s no sound, but she can read what’s happening well enough. In fact… she’s in the video.

Karen stares at herself - she’d never liked that haircut - and exhales. The source of her pounding heart, the shakiness in her limbs, becomes suddenly clear to her. She’s so rarely felt it that she didn’t recognize the emotion at first.

She’s afraid.

The boy on the screen is asking a question. The handler behind him grabs him by the scruff of the neck like a dog and shakes him violently. Says something. The boy cringes away, his hands moving up onto the table in the room. His fingers move, some kind of rhythm. The handler takes out a black stick and smacks hard into them. 

Even though she can’t hear the sound, Karen knows exactly what that cry of pain showing on the boy’s face must sound like.

There’s another ripple of sound through the reporters. A sudden burst of clicks.

The redhead swallows so heavily Karen can see his Adam's apple move. “I was seventeen. I, I, I’m, um, my, my aunt had custody of me. It was my-... she, um. She drugged… me. On my birthday. And sold me to, um, to to WRU. I was seventeen. I was scared. They, they, they locked me up alone for, for… I don’t… I can’t, um, remember exactly how long, but no one-... talked to me, no one would, I asked for her, for my aunt, for… anyone. And, and, and then… then Governor Oliver Branch came to-... to see me.”

The image changes again. It’s security camera footage from one of the training rooms, and shows the same boy being restrained, his arms locked into cuffs above his head, thrashing and screaming on his back on a padded table. 

A door opens, and the late Governor of their state steps inside, caught clearly on camera. Clear, recognizable, undeniable. And there’s Karen alongside him, letting him in. Gesturing to the sobbing, screaming boy with a smile.

Yes, Karen thinks as she watches. This feeling is definitely fear.

“I think we’re going to have to go further than a couple of handlers,” She murmurs. 

“I should fucking say so,” Timothy snaps. “How the hell did anyone get a hold of this footage, Karen?! I thought our networks were totally encrypted!”

“They-... they are. We need to speak to IT-”

“We need to speak to everyone!”

Another photo of the younger version of the redhead, wearing a soft blue collar and matching sweater, sitting on an enormous bed with dark covers and sheets. He gives a faint, trembling smile to whoever is holding the camera. 

Then another photo, later, the boy curled up against a woman with a brown braid that Karen also knows, only this one she doesn’t have to stretch to remember.

“Who is that? I know that woman,” Timothy says in her ear. “Who is in that photo-”

“Natalie Yoder,” Karen says, quietly. 

“... why do I know that name?”

“She came up with our slogan. Then she quit and joined the pet lib movement.”

“Is she behind this, Karen? Can we take care of-”

“Not if it’s on live television, we can’t. We can’t pretend it was an accident or a coincidence if we move right now. And I don’t think she’s doing this, I’ve been following that woman for twenty years, this isn’t her style. No…”

Her eyes go to the gymnast, Nakamura, who is smiling encouragingly at the redhead. Karen’s always had good instincts and she trusts them now, as she sees the Nakamura boy look at the others standing behind the table. 

“I think we’re looking at outside involvement entirely,” She murmurs, making a note of the Nakamura boy’s face.

“My, my, my name is Christopher Stanton,” The redhead says, leaning forward into the microphone. “But it wasn’t before. My aunt told everyone I, I killed myself, she told my my my friends, my-... she told them I killed myself. But… but I was never dead. I was, was, was always here. I’m… I’m still here.” His jaw works, and he breaks into a hitched sob, swaying back and forth, back and forth.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t start crying enough to stop this little production from going on.

“My name is Christopher Stanton,” He says, loudly, his hands moving to tap on the podium as he stops rocking. “And, and, and it’s Tristan Higgs. I was Tristan Higgs. I’m still here, and I, I, I got my name back, and we can, we, we all can get our names back. They say they take everything away, and… and, and, and they… they lie. WRU lies.”

He steps back, and the girl who has been standing next to him, wearing Iran’s Olympic uniform, steps up to the microphone. The image projected behind them changes to a young man with a serious face and dark, dark eyes, a bit of stubble around his jaw. In the photo, slightly grainy, he sits in front of a fountain, wearing a button-up shirt and loose pants. 

The girl speaks with a clipped, controlled ferocity that can’t quite hide the sheer depth of fury in her eyes. “This... is Bijan Ahmari. He went to study at university in Tehran to be a doctor. He has three sisters and a brother, he is studious and creative. He was last seen getting into a taxi outside a restaurant after dinner with friends three years ago.”

The image shifts to what is clearly the same young man, slightly later, in the trainee outfit, sitting on an exam table in the WRU clinic, smiling with an expression of charming warmth that doesn’t reach his eyes. He wears a black leather collar that even in photos looks as soft as rabbit fur.

He must be asked something, because his look changes slightly, glancing to the side as if checking for what he’s meant to say, before his mouth moves in the direction of the camera. 

“This,” The girl says, her voice going slightly lower but no less strong, “is what Bijan Ahmari looks like now.”

There’s a pause.

“Shit,” Timothy says, voice suddenly flat. “That’s Marcus Dolan’s Romantic.”

“Who?”

“The tech guy. Built that Get Together dating app, sold it for a billion dollars or something.”

“I thought he was married.”

“He is. Officially. That’s still his Romantic. Fuck, how did they-... They’re onto something, Karen.”

“Can we claim we didn’t know?” Karen asks the question in the same flat tone. Her pets are restless, except for Dex’s perfect stillness and fascinated stare at the screen. Peter and Sebastian have moved close to one another. Michael stands behind Peter with his arms around him, resting his chin on the top of Peter’s head. When Sebastian leans against them, they put arms around him in turn. 

“We can, but I don’t know how well it’ll play.”

The Canadian steps up next. A girl appears behind him, smiling over her shoulder, with a cascade of blond hair. “This is Jennifer Kelly,” He says, his own voice catching slightly. “She ran away from home when she was sixteen. WRU claims she signed up two years later, but we know better.”

The image changes to the same girl, walking down the street, several years older. Small children hold her hands on either side of her, dressed in private school uniforms, their faces carefully blurred to keep them unrecognizable. If it weren’t for the collar around her neck, she’d look like a nanny.

Then a young woman wearing a South Korean uniform speaks, leaning forward into the microphone. “Park Si-Yoo,” She says, and there’s a photo of a Korean girl at a restaurant with friends, making a peace sign into the camera, all of them smiling brightly and leaning their heads together, steam from the grill set into the table in front of them rising around them. “She was having a very hard time with depression, anxiety. She disappeared at age twenty-one. At first, when the police say they found her body, we believe them.”

The photo changes to a shot of the same girl in training, dull-eyed staring directly into the camera, her hair chopped into a blunt bob. She has the shock collar on.

Her shoulders are hunched, defensively, and she is slightly turned away, as if she had been trying to move back and was forced back into place.

“Now we think the body was a false one.”

One by one, they speak. There are photos of young people, and then photos in training, or shots taken in secret on the street. One by one, and Karen’s sense of fear seems only to grow. There has been resistance, of course, from the very beginning. But this is… this is entirely new. 

This is organized, global, this is…

“This could ruin us,” Karen whispers.

Now Akio Nakamura steps up to the podium. On one side, the redhead - on the other, Owen Grant’s pretty runaway. 

“A few years ago,” Akio Nakamura says, his voice clear and strong, “my best friend’s parents were murdered. The murderers were never caught or charged. We only know who they were because they were later killed themselves, and the DNA matched. After what happened, my family offered to take Tristan in, but his aunt was given custody and refused to allow us contact.” Akio swallows. He swallows again. “We tried-... maybe we didn’t try hard enough.”

The redhead leans over, leaning his head against Akio’s. Nakamura swallows, hard, steeling himself for the rest.

“She took him out of therapy, she stopped giving him his ADHD medication, she pulled him out of school. When she found out he was complaining to us about it, she took away his phone. And then... then one day, she told us that he ran away. Then, later, that he had killed himself. When Joanne Botham told my mother that Tristan was dead by suicide, he was… he was still alive. Not only was he still alive, he was in her apartment, probably on the other side of a wall, needing just-... just someone to know he was there.”

The Nakamura boy looks over the crowd of reporters, inhaling deeply, exhaling again. He’s trying to stay calm, and Karen wishes he would break down, the little wretch. Lose his ability to do this, to poison a nation against her. “Can you call someone and have them cut the broadcast-”

“I could, but it’s the goddamn Olympics, Karen, if we cut nobody else will. If it bleeds it leads, right?”

And here is WRU’s jugular being slit, on live television, with a silent enraptured audience. 

“The ratings,” Karen says heavily, “are going to be spectacular.”

Timothy gives a bitter laugh in response.

“I mourned my best friend for years. And when I was mourning him - when I dropped out of gymnastics, when I dropped out of school for a while, when I… when I dropped everything… he was still alive. But he was living in terror, and pain, and fear. Joanne Botham sold him to WRU for a nice finder’s fee, a good little bonus-”

Behind him, the image projected is now a very familiar bit of paperwork. Karen swallows against the sight of the finder’s fee and bonus paid to employee Joanne Botham, Joanne’s signature… and Karen’s. 

“And once they had tortured, and traumatized, and terrorized him into obedience, WRU sold him to Governor Oliver Branch, who kept him tied to his bed or locked in a room or-or under his d-d-desk-” Akio’s voice nearly breaks on the surge of anger. “And WRU knew. They knew and they lied, over and over. And that’s not an exception. It’s the rule. They lie.”

“They tell us we wanted a better life,” Kauri Grant says, leaning over so the mic picks his voice up. “They tell us we asked for it.”

“They tell us,” The Iranian girl says, leaning forward herself, “that our family members did not want their lives any longer, that they handed them over happily. That Bijan had simply decided it was to difficult to be a doctor and chose to be this instead.”

“They tell us it’s a fresh start,” The Canadian says. “That they helped Jennifer get off drugs, and who are we to stop her from living a better life?”

“They tell us that our family, our friends, the people we lose… that they are happier this way,” A German athlete says. “That my friend’s cousin would rather live this way than any other.”

“They, they, they told me…” Tristan leans forward now. “They, they told me I wanted to disappear. But I didn’t. My, my, my aunt wanted me gone. I wanted my, my life. I wanted my life. She took it away from me.”

“I need to make some calls,” Karen says, her mouth barely moving. “We need to call Joanne Botham and get her in.”

“Start with her?”

“Start with her. WRU cooperates every step of the way to get her imprisoned. Then we start working our way through the edges.”

She has to hope Timothy doesn’t decide she needs to go to prison to fix this, too.

Timothy’s voice is low, emotionless now, strategizing. “I need to speak to Marcus and tell him to hide his Romantic and to do it now. I’ll call you back. We’re in the deep shit now, Renford.”

“I can see that.” She hangs up. However, she doesn’t dial any numbers right away. She just stares at the screen. Somehow, she can’t look away.

“WRU will now pretend,” Akio Nakamura says, “that they don’t know about this. It’s an aberration, it’s not normal, it’s not part of their business model. Their executives will say it’s a problem lower-down, not their idea, not something they signed off on. But their own executives know damn well what happens, and when they say they don’t, they’re not just lying to us. They’re lying to all of you. They tell you your children ran away, that they didn’t want to live at home anymore. Sometimes, they tell you that your child is dead.”

A photo pops up on the screen behind him now that has Karen’s eyes widening, her cell phone dropping to thump on the rug beneath her feet. 

Dex’s lips move, mouthing a name, and he leans forward. Sebastian gasps.

The photo is of a young teenager with curly brown hair, running down a soccer field in a high school uniform colored dark blue and sky blue, a number across the chest and stomach. A small article from a local newspaper about a Tennessee boy gone missing while walking home from practice. A smiling school photo printed in blurry black and white.

PRESUMED DEAD, FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED.

A photo beneath it of the boy’s family, a woman and man and siblings, holding each other while they weep. 

Then... a photo of the same boy in training, covered in bruises, with a black eye and busted lip, shock collar locked around his neck. He stands next to a handler who has a hand laid heavy on the back of his neck. He’s... short.

God, he was always so short.

“That’s me,” Peter whispers, and yet it feels like a scream. “Michael, that’s-... that’s me-”

“I know,” He whispers, just loud enough for Karen to hear. “I know, Petey, I know.” His whisper goes vicious and triumphant. “And now everyone else knows, too.”

“Fuck,” Karen says, and drops to sit on the couch herself. 

Her legs won’t hold her up any longer. 

“We don’t know what happened to all of the people we’ve gotten this info on,” Akio says, voice flat but strong. “But we’re still working. And we’re going to find them all, and show WRU that they can’t just steal people any longer. They can’t play this game. They can’t keep taking the ones we love away from us, and taking us away from the people we love.”

Akio Nakamura steps fully aside, and now the two runaways stand side by side before the podium again, equally framed. Behind them, the photo shifts to a shot of the two of them as they must be now, in regular clothes, sitting on a ratty old plaid couch and laughing.

“We took our lives back,” Kauri Grant says, voice firm. “We lost so much, and we can’t reclaim all of it, but we took back so much you told us we’d never have again. I learned how to say no.”

“I, I, I learned how to read,” Tristan Higgs says, a little hesitantly. “I went to, um, to college.”

“I learned how to write,” Kauri Grant says. “I write again, like I used to-... I write.”

“I learned how to, to love someone.” Tristan Higgs smiles, shyly. 

Kauri looks right at the camera, and Karen gets the feeling he speaks directly to someone. “I learned that I am worth being loved.”

Tristan looks over at Akio Nakamura, and then back. “I got my, my, my best friend back.”

“I make the decisions about my life now.” Kauri smiles, but it’s grim. “And I'm never letting someone else decide who I am, ever again. I know who I am.”

“I, I know who I am, too.” Tristan takes a deep breath. “We learned, um, we learned how to say… how to… how to tell you that we don’t want this. We don’t want them, the, the people who buy us.” His shy smile widens. Karen hates him. “We don’t want you.”

“We don’t want to show you any respect.” Grant’s smile is pure poison now, and Karen wonders if he’s always been so dangerous, and she had been too fooled by the feeling that that pretty head was empty. “And you’re going to discover that this isn’t it. We’re not done.”

“We’re still here,” Tristan Higgs says, so loudly now that there’s a burst of low feedback from the microphone. “We’re not dead. We’re still here and we, we want our lives back. We want all of us to have their lives back. To stop having to hide. To stop, to, to stop running. And we’re not stopping until we, we, we’ve freed us all. We’re still here. You c-can’t… you, you can’t erase us.”

Kauri Grant - Liam Harker - takes Tristan Higgs’s hand, and raises it high. 

“This is a war,” Kauri says loudly. “And the pets are finally ready to take WRU down to the foundations.” 

Once more, he gives that winning, winsome smile.

“Any questions?”

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @what-a-whump @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf

[the-one-man-tower-of-babel]

THE STORY IS HERE NOW!

Please forgive PeePaw for keeping you all waiting! He had a...spell. And needed to watch wholesome television and have some A negative to soothe his nerves.

Ah, so it was a dark and stormy night...by that I mean it was a Tuesday night. Tuesday nights are hardly ever nights of quality throughout my entire unlife. I was in rural Switzerland - hunting at a popular tourist trap along a bus route - when I suddenly heard the most beautiful sound. It was like a banshee’s call, though not laced with sensuality or other such thrilling mortal emotions. It was a gentle call, like fae calling children to the meadow to play. I followed it - and I have yet to recall all I saw or did while I was spirited away.

All I know is that the next thing I knew - I was in the back of a UPS delivery truck. I quickly disembarked and wandered through a kine residential area confused and alone for quite some time. I spent the day in someone’s shed (it was in this shed I met my first kitty, Mister Mittens, who was using my head as pillow when I woke from my day’s slumber) before continuing my wandering (Mister Mittens was on my head the entire time - it was not unlike wearing a coonskin cap, only it was breathing and would scratch me if I attempted to remove it). 

It was at this time that I was found by my dear Nigel, who was taking the trash out for his mother and saw my rather disheveled form walking down his street with Mister Mittens in tow upon my brow. He asked me if I was lost, and I told him I could not even recall my own name. Being such an empathetic fellow, he offered for me to come inside to call for help. I accepted his offer, and so Mister Mittens and I went with Nigel...

I shall continue the story I see that others interested. I would not want to bore you all.

[laurasinele]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter 11 is up! One to go, might become a very long one or one plus an epilogue  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Chapters: 11/12 Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Hux picks Ren up from the Starkiller base before it collapses. Snoke is happy to have his apprentice back, but thinks Hux decision to save him showed his weakness, and sends him to recondition. Meanwhile, Ren is going through an existential crisis involving Snoke, Han Solo and Hux, well, now Stormtrooper LU-9235.

[ranger-jedi-knight]

A New Hero Ch 8

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887313/chapters/54059041

Tag List: @vixen-uchiha

Ok, so here’s the next chap! So, Mari is 15, been a couple months since Lila came to France. So Volpina already happened ok? I was thinkin bout doing it but I like doing this time skip where the chaps aren’t close to each other. Especially since in a few chaps, it’s going to be basically close to each other the chaps. I hope that makes sense. I will try doing one of Lila’s akumatizations tho. I promise! Also, so I made an Akuma, who was made because her little girl was killed. Just thought I’d give a warning. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chap!!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The devastated scream echoed down the street. People ran down the street screaming in fear themselves. Some people turned in that direction to see the new victim and ran themselves to safety. With a wave, feathers flew at people, the ones they hit fell to the ground. People cried out.

Coming down the street pushing cars away from her was a woman. The woman’s hair was pitch black flowing down her back. Her skin was pale gray while her eyes were a deep unnatural blue. Blue, teardrop-shaped glass laid next to her eyes. Tears fell from her eyes when they hit the ground, it cracked the ground. Wrapped around her body was a deep gray dress. Hanging on her neck was a silver chain with a silver heart pendant with a purple tint. It had one sleeve that billowed behind her. Her feet were bare and pure white wings were behind her. The sun was almost down behind her, causing an orange glow around her.

“If I can’t have my family, then no one shall either!” the Akuma yelled, pushing cars away. Chat Noir landed in front of the Akuma and blocked any feathers coming toward them. Nino was hiding behind a building and recording them but knew to leave if things got worse. Ladybug landed behind Mourning Dove silently and crept up slowly and silently.

“Mourning Dove,” Chat called and the Akuma glared at them over at them, “you’re in pain. You lost something amazing, do you really want to cause other people the same pain? You know how it feels, why would you want to cause other people the same pain?” Chat asked and Mourning Dove stopped. Ladybug was creeping up, she was close to getting the necklace.

“I...I don’t,” she replied softly and a soft, broken sob left Mourning Dove.

“Then let us help you,” Chat said as the woman fell to her knees on the ground. Ladybug came up behind Mourning Dove and took her necklace and broke it.

“Time to de-evilize,” Ladybug spoke quietly and caught the butterfly quickly. “Bye-bye little butterfly,” she murmured as the pure white butterfly left her yo-yo. “Miraculous Ladybug!” she threw her yo-yo up and ladybugs left it and repaired all the damage Mourning Dove caused. She looked back at the woman and watched Chat council her and hug her close.

“I’m so sorry!” she sobbed out and Ladybug kneeled down beside her.

“It’s ok, miss. It’s not your fault. Hawkmoth took advantage of you while you mourned,” Ladybug said quickly and the woman nodded.

“Do you have anyone close to you nearby?” Chat asked and the woman nodded.

“My uncle. He was on his way over when…” she trailed off and Chat nodded.

“Ok, let’s get you back to him,” Chat said helping her up. “I’ll see you later, bug,” with that he helped the woman back to the hospital. Nino came up to her and patted her shoulder.

“I’ll delete that footage. She deserves some privacy after what happened,” he said and Ladybug nodded.

“Good. She shouldn’t have to deal with worrying about Hawkmoth taking advantage of her sadness,” Ladybug agreed. “See you soon,” Ladybug said readying her yo-yo to swing away. A groan had them look toward an alley. They walked over and saw a boy around their age gripping his head. He had brown hair that was messy and decent length. There was a short scar on his right cheek, cutting off at his jaw. He looked fairly fit, around the same build as Jason she’d guess. She kneeled down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

She tensed up, corrupted magic came from him. It was the same kind she and Fu felt on Damian and Jason. The same they healed on them. It was from the Lazarus Pit. The teen looked up surprised, showing silver eyes with a faint green to them, and looked between Ladybug and Nino. his attire reminds her of the clothes Damian had, the ones he showed her and the others. League attire.

“What’s your name?” Ladybug asked softly.

The teens face scrunched up in thought. “My name is” he started in Arabic before shaking his head. “Sorry, my name is Xander Grayson,” he replied in French and Ladybug froze once more.

“What’s up?” Nino asked looking at her curiously.

“We had a brother. His name was Xander. He was killed years ago when Lana was just starting high school. But...he vanished before we could bury him. We don’t know what happened to him,” Alya had said when she was asked about when Lana had gotten together with Steve.

“Xander?” she asked and he nodded. “I know someone who can help you, just give me a moment to talk in private,” Ladybug said and Xander nodded slowly.

“O-ok,” he replied as Ladybug stood up and took Nino away to whisper.

“Does that name mean anything to you?” Nino whispered and Ladybug nodded.

“Yes. Remember? Alya and Lana had a younger brother. Named Xander. Who disappeared years ago,” Ladybug said and Nino’s face turned shocked.

“Oh yeah. You think he’s their brother, dudette?”

“I’m thinking yes,” Ladybug replied with a short nod while looking over at Xander. “Ok, you know Jason’s size right?” she continued and Nino nodded. “Go to some clothing stores and get him some clothes. He looks to be Jason’s size. After, head back to Fu’s. We need to heal him. He has corrupted magic running through his veins, just like Jason and Damian.”

“On it,” Nino said with a nod and ran off to get the clothing. Ladybug went back over to the teen and helped him up.

“Where is he going?” Xander asked softly confused, and Ladybug smiled at him.

“He’s getting you a change of clothes and will meet us at Fu’s place. He’s the man that can help you,” she explained and Xander nodded understanding. “Can you keep a secret?” she asked and he nodded. “Good, I’m going to de-transform since I can’t take you to him as Ladybug. It’d look weird,” she said and he nodded once more, she then hid between two trashcans. “Tikki, spots off,” she said and Tikki flew out of the earrings with a flash of pink, with that she stood up and went back over to Xander. “I’m Marinette, but you can call me Mari.”

Xander smiled at her and shook her hand. “Marinette why did you do that?” Tikki asked and Xander stared at Tikki in shock.

“Because Tikki, he has the same corrupted magic as Damian and Jason did. And you know very well we can’t risk doing anything suspicious,” Mari explained and Tikki nodded slowly.

“Ok, let’s get him to Master Fu,” Tikki said flying into Mari’s purse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander tried holding back the tears, but he couldn’t. His vision blurred from tears while his heartbeat pounded in his ears, muffling everything. Along his body, it felt like needles were digging into him. A pounding started in his head as his hands gripped his hair tightly, pulling slightly. The day he disappeared flashed before his eyes in sharp clarity.

The scars along his back and neck stung. Lana’s desperate cries echoed in his head. He could still feel the rough asphalt on his palms and knees. The small scraps from falling. His croaked out ‘I love you, I’m sorry’, said so quietly, but seemed so loud. The pain he felt as his vision darkened echoed faintly. Joker’s maniacal laugh echoing as everything fades.

The feeling of being underwater. Liquid going into his mouth. Struggling, flailing. Coughing harshly when he escaped the liquids grasp. Everything was blurry as the liquid left his eyes. Faintly hearing talking, possible training.

The sting of getting hit, repeatedly. The cold a sharp knife cutting his skin. Slipping in the snow and ice, running. Wind whipping through his hair and across his face. Snow covering everything and making it hard to see. Shouts echoing harshly, ‘Get him! Kill him if you must!’. Arrows shooting at him cutting through the wind. Grazing him. Landing next to him.

Arms wrapped around him and he started struggling. His voice cracked as he yelled out. He didn’t know what he was yelling, just that he was. He heard gentle shushing, then humming. It...it was a french lullaby. He recognized it. It was a lullaby his sisters both learned and hummed to him after a bad day or nightmare. He relaxed in their grip and started crying. A hand ran through his hair in a calming manner. After a while, his tears stopped and he looked up. Mari was the one holding him closely and humming.

“S-sorry,” he whispered out, voice cracking once more.

“It’s fine, Xander. We were just worried about you. Are you ok? How do you feel?” Mari asked gently. Mari watched as Xander’s eyes flicked up to her, they were plain silver once more, before looking at the ground.

“I’m o-okay,” he whispered taking the tea Fu was holding out to him and taking a sip from it.

“Do you mind telling us what freaked you out?” Mari asked softly once more.

“I....” he started before trailing off and looking out the window, “everything from before now....and after that day....was a blur. But now....I remember everything. I....I died. I was dead but I was brought back to life,” Xander said slowly and Mari’s arms tightened around him.

“Being with the League....being kidnapped and revived by them....then being trained by them...it’s tough. I have two friends who went through that. One was with them for 10 years, the other only a few. You were there for 8 years. I can’t imagine how that was after they left. But you’re safe now. They won’t get you,” she replied softly and he looked over and watched as Nino and Fu nodded agreement.

“When you are....ready, you’re sisters will be very happy to see you again,” Fu said and Xander smiled at that.

“Really?”

“Really. They were...devastated when you disappeared. I imagine they’ll be very happy when they see you,” Fu said and Xander nodded. “To help you heal from what happened, would you mind coming here every day for the next week or two? After that, we’ll space out the visits,” Fu said and Xander nodded.

“That sounds fine. Where will I stay?” Xander asked looking between the three.

“With me. I asked my parents while Fu got you ready. They understand and are very willing to let you stay,” Mari replied and Xander nodded.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“No problem. Why don’t you change into the clothes Nino got you,” Mari said and Xander nodded as he slowly got up and took the bag from Nino. After he changed into a teal sweatshirt, white tee, and gray sweats, he sat down in front of Fu.

“Shall we begin?” Fu asked and Xander nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you want to go to school, Xander?” Mari asked. It’s been a couple of weeks by then since Xander was healed. He’s meet all of Mari’s close friends who shared the same sentiment as Mari regarding him. They were just outside the school when she asked once more. Adrien stood next to them while the others went into the classroom to ‘deal’ with Lila. He understood that they pretended to hate each other in public for a movie they’re filming.

“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t think staying couped up at your place will help with anything. Not to mention, I’d rather be near you and your friends. I haven’t had an episode recently....but I’d rather be safe than sorry. Your parents and Fu are good, but not as good as you, sister,” Xander said smiling as he said sister in English. Mari beamed at him and took his hand.

“Ok, let’s get you enrolled then.” Mari then leads Xander, and Adrien as he trailed behind them, to the principle’s office. She knocked on the door.

“Come in!” Damocles muffled call came through. Mari opened the door and Damocles looked between her, Xander, and Adrien with a slightly confused expression. “What do you three need?” he asked and Mari had Xander sit in a chair.

“He’d like to enroll here. He’s from America but came here for a specialty therapist that’s really good. But since the therapist doesn’t know when he’ll be good to go home, we thought he’d enroll here for the time being,” Mari explained and Xander nodded. Damocles nodded at that and started typing on his computer.

“Alright. Now, what’s his name, where is he staying and who’s his family?” Damocles said.

“His name is Xander Grayson. He’s staying with me, Principle Damocles. So the info in my file should do,” Mari said and Damocles nodded slowly at that.

“Alright. Now, what about school records?”

“I was homeschooled,” Xander replied.

“Yeah. But he can be in my classes. That way if he’s behind in anything, I can help him,” she replied and Damocles nodded at that.

“If you are higher than the rest of the class, would you want to be moved ahead or stay in the same class?” Damocles asked leaning against his desk.

“I’d like to stay in the same class as my sister, sir,” he said and Damocles looked a bit confused at that.

“Sister?”

“That’s me, Principle Damocles. He’s become an honorary Dupain-Cheng,” Mari explained and Damocles nodded at that with a small smile.

“Alright. Marinette, Adrien, why don’t you two head to class. We just need to finish up some work before he can join you,” Damocles said and Mari nodded.

“Of course. We’ll see you soon, Xan,” Mari replied patting his shoulder before leaving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bustier was smiling as Lila claimed her tinnitus was acting up. Right as Nino sat down next to Kim and Lila next to Adrien, a knock sounded. “Come in!” Bustier called. Damocles then came into the room with Xander following behind him.

“Miss Bustier, you are receiving a new student. Please take care, make sure to look at his file as soon as you can as we do not want to cause him any problems through negligence,” Damocles replied and Bustier nodded. “Good day, if you need anything, come to me,” with that, Damocles left the room and Xander waved to everyone.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself to the class?” Bustier suggested.

“I’m Xander Grayson. I’m from Gotham in the USA. Uh, if I say something makes me uncomfortable, please drop it and don’t talk about it,” he said and the class nodded, some looked a bit confused though.

“Xander, do you want to sit next to me?” Lila asked with a charming smile and Xander shook his head.

“If I could, I’d like to sit next to my honorary sister, Mari,” Xander replied and Lila made a show of grumbling.

“You don’t want to sit next to her, Xander. Mari’s a bully,” Alya spoke up and Xander glanced over at her.

“I’ve already decided to sit next to her. Please don’t argue with me,” he said as Mari beamed at him. He went up the steps and sat down next to Mari. Chloe was sitting next to Sabrina as Mari had told her what was going to happen.

“If you’re from America, why don’t you have an accent?” Mylene asked that and Xander tensed up.

“Practice I guess,” he replied shortly.

“Why don’t you save the questions for later. Give him some time ok?” Mari replied and the class nodded at that.

“Ok class, let’s begin today’s lesson,” Bustier called out.

Ok, so this was the new chap. I hope you guys enjoyed it. There was a bit of a wait, sorry. Anyways, we have Xander appear! He’s Alya’s and Lana’s younger brother. Rn Mari n the others r around 15 yo. Lana is 21-22. Xander is a few years younger so he’s 17. Alya is 27. Just thought I’d tell ya so your aren’t confused. I hope you enjoyed it, I’ll see you again soon! -Love Willa<3<3<3