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straight-to-the-pain · 9 months ago

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I don't know if anyone else in the whump community has read 'A Constellation of Vital Phenomena' by Anthony Marra but it is genuinely a really good book and also has some of the best depictions of torture and its aftermath that I have read in fiction.

I wanted to share some of my favourite quotes, hopefully without too many spoilers as it is out of context, but maybe skip this post if you don't want to know anything at all going in.

To give a brief summary, the book centres around the lives of people in Chechnya during the first and second war between the Russian government (Feds) and the separatist rebels. The main story focuses on a man (Akhmed) who is trying to save his neighbour's daughter from being killed by the Feds after her father is taken away in the middle of the night. He does this by taking her to a hospital where he then volunteers. One of the people in his village (Ramzan) becomes an informer for the Feds after being tortured, and this is explored in the excerpts below.

‘Information the Feds would torture them for was written here on the walls for all to see. It was well understood among the men that the Feds had as much sense as two bricks smashed together. It was also understood that pain, rather than information, was the true purpose of interrogation.'

'During his first detention in the landfill, in 1995, in the first war, he had refused to inform. They had wrestled down his trousers, shown him the bolt cutters, and still he had said no. Screaming, thrashing, with his manhood half severed, he had said no. He had done that, and now he was ready to start saying yes.'

'He would have confessed everything, but they didn't ask, weren't interested, threatened to cut out his tongue and put pliers to his teeth if he spoke one more fucking word. Electric wires were wound around his fingers. A car battery was drained into his bones. God might have been watching, but it wasn't God's finger on the battery switch. The interrogating officers didn't speak. Instead he was an instrument they played, performing a duet, and in their own way they conversed through his sobs. They both wore very shiny shoes. That was all he would remember.'

'He had trouble walking, He had forgotten torture could be so exhausting. The new interrogator, the one with less shiny shoes, held him upright, using his whole body as a crutch, and helped him walk. He carefully wiped Ramzan's forehead with a handkerchief before opening the door to the next room.'

'The interrogator with less shiny shoes crouched behind him. His hands were wet. Ramzan promised everything, and the interrogator, like the parent of a child too old to believe in ghosts, watched him with disappointment, his clear eyes saddened by Ramzan's sincerity. The interrogator took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, laid the live wires on Ramzan's chest and mapped the border of their shared humanity. Ramzan offered his soul. He begged to be enslaved. The known universe contracted to the limits of the cement floor, and on it, the interrogator was both man and deity, prophet and god. By ten o'clock the interrogator with less shiny shoes asked his first question. By eleven the electrical wires were unwound from Ramzan's fingers. By noon he was allowed to dress. By one he was on the FSB payroll. He kept thanking the interrogator with less shiny shoes.'

‘Greed didn’t motivate his informing, at least not primarily; primarily he informed by necessity, to survive, for his love and hate and above all awe of the power wielded by the interrogating officer with less shiny shoes.'

'That was his greatest fear. Could he stay silent? Could he withstand what awaited him? He told himself that his love for the girl should fortify him against any torture, but this, like so much of what he told himself, was a lie. After all, he was squeamish at the sight of blood, what would he say when lying in a puddle of his own? But he saw no other way. He would pray for the strength to stay silent, for a quick heart attack, and leave the rest to God.' (This is Akhmed POV)

'When they threatened to beat me, I said nothing, Akhmed. When they threatened to beat me, I said nothing. When they threatened to electrocute me, I said nothing. When they threatened to castrate me, I said nothing. I said nothing, Akhmed. Whatever you think of me, you remember that once I said nothing when a wiser man would have sung. And the interrogators, they couldn't believe it. They called in others to examine me. I was there on the floor, and above their faces were dark ovals silhouetted by the ceiling lights. They had beaten me hard and I couldn't hear right, but I kept saying no, with every breath I had. The main reason they let me go, the only reason they didn't shoot me right there was out of perverse respect, some sort of professional courtesy. But I wish they had shot me, Akhmed, because the good part of me died there, and all this, everything since, has been an afterlife I'm trying to escape.'

‘I knew what was coming. I knew it never stops. They put a shame inside you that goes on like a bridge with no end, the humiliation, the fucking humiliation of knowing that you are not a human being but a bundle of screaming nerve endings, that the torture goes on even when the physical hurt quietens. People treated me differently when I came back the first time.'

#torture #whump #s talks #a constellation of vital phenomena #idk what else to tag this with tbh #electricity torture #beating #I don't think it counts as gore tbh but like viewer discretion is advised #I really like this portrayal tbh #because like torture sort of is effective for the feds but they dont actually care about the truth #ramzan is mostly just giving up people who gossipped about him and then just whoever he is told he has to invent evidence on #and like obviously there are characters who do not choose to inform #akhmed does not give up the girl we know this #but yeah idk it's intersting to me #like torture as something functional but also completely empty of meaning #also I just really like the writing #and the way it talks about the aftermath and the trauma of it that alters ramzan forever in some ways #but it's also clear that it's not just the torture that made him do it like #he is a complex character and he is also trying to protect his dad who relies on insulin to survive #and he also agreed to inform to save his friend who had his fingers cut off

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thatsgonnaleaveamark · 9 months ago

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this or that - whump tropes (18)

Fight: facing any perceived threat aggressively.

Flight: running away from danger.

Freeze: unable to move or act against a threat.

Fawn: immediately acting to try to please to avoid any conflict.

#whump #whump tropes #whump poll #this or that poll #i like fight for characters i think but freeze is also good #i mean yeah it depends on personality and stuff but idk just pick a fave i guess lol

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f-liner · 24 days ago

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For as much as I love chocogummy, I feel like making Hanto die basically everytime the episode is ending is kind of becoming repetitive.

I like that they showcase how he is still a human, even with the Granute organ and kamen rider powers, he still is the weakest, which ends up making him the one who loses the most.

But at the same time he always faints in the same dramatic way, with Shouma screaming his name. It's kind of funny because of how often it happens.

Like, can you imagine the staff meeting with the actors? "So at the end you-" "I faint while Chinen screams my name? " "yeah, and then-" "and then next episode he cradles my dead body while I sleep on his lap? " "..."

Still I hope he realizes this and that it will be plot relevant in the future. Like whatever upgrade he will have will actually make him stronger.

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ghostcreaturetypething · 10 days ago

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Alright. So I am very new and naïve to the Supernatural fandom. But I am also autistic as hell, meaning I get very into things very quickly, and I’ll be damned if I spent all that time in A Level English lessons and doing endless revision for nothing, so listen up.

I am halfway through season 1, episode 12, Faith. Quick synopsis of the first few minutes, maybe quarter: Dean gets electrocuted and almost dies; he’s in the hospital, looking like hell, and Sam has just found out that the amount of electricity that Dean accidentally tazed himself with caused a heart attack that severely damaged Dean’s heart. Suffice to say, Dean did not just almost die: he is dying. Dean has weeks, tops, and he knows this. So when Sam comes into his room, distraught, Dean says,

“I know it’s not easy, but I’m gonna die. And you can’t stop it.”

And Sam says, “Watch me.”

Now. Now. By god do I have feelings about this.

For some quick context, I am an older sibling, and I see my relationship with my sister as being quite similar to that between the Winchester boys, give or take a few traits.

That said, I… Hm. To me, this short exchange holds an unbelievable amount of weight. Just to begin with —

“I know it’s not easy, but I’m gonna die. And you can’t stop it.”

The first phrase,“I know it’s not easy” is directed at Sam. Dean is in hospital, dying, in pain, and his first focus is to acknowledge that the situation is not easy for Sam. Because that is his baby brother, and even at this very early point in the series, we all know that he loves him an unbelievable amount. And, god, the way he says it — “I know it’s not easy.” It’s so matter-of-fact, and yet so gentle. It’s almost as though Dean is apologising for being at death’s door, almost like he only cares at all because of the effect he knows it is going to have on Sam. That — yeah. That makes me feel… things. But moving on swiftly:

“I’m gonna die.”

Stupidly casual. Not that we would expect anything less from Dean but, dude. Now is not the time to be using contractions. But more than being very casual and very typically Dean, it is very certain. More so even than a phrase like “I’m dying”, which describes a state of being but not a definite destination. “I am going to die” leaves no room for nuance or last minute rescues. This coupled with the “I know it’s not easy” implies that already, despite everything the boys have been through and overcome, Dean is resigned to his fate. He has given up. He believes he is going to die, and the only concession he has made to this not being an ideal situation is his acknowledgment of how difficult it must be for Sam. I mean. Fuck.

Now, the second phrase: “And you can’t stop it.” This. This is three things and all of them stab me directly in the heart. Firstly, I wanna talk about the fronted conjunction ‘And’. It’s unnecessary. Without it, the statement is gentler; less combative, and more of a way of saying to Sam, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you can do, and we both have to be okay with that. But, BUT. With the addition of the “and”, Dean has made that statement into a challenge. A mock dismissal of anything Sam may or may not be able to do to save him. The two phrases now have the very typical structure of the way one would talk to a sibling: “I’m going out tonight and you can’t stop me.” “I know you don’t want to do that and I don’t care. Let’s go.” It’s PETTY. It’s unnecessary, and it makes it sound almost like Dean is… triumphant, in some way. Like he’s won, in his blunt laying out of what Sam can’t do.

“I know it’s not easy, but I’m gonna die. And you can’t stop it.”

It’s a juxtaposition of gentle and combative, the most sibling-relationship-coded combination known to humankind, and it just goes to show that, on a meta level, the writing for the interactions between these two is incredible. But going back to the second half; I said it was three things. This is the third: as well as being contradictorily resigned and strangely triumphant, this phrase is also proof that actually, Dean is decidedly neither of these things. “And you can’t stop it” is not a definitive condemnation of Sam’s ideas. It is a plea. For help. For Sam to save him. “I’m gonna die”, aren’t I? “You can’t stop it” can you? I’m fucked, right? Dean is scared. This is proven to us later when Sam says, “You know, this whole… ‘I laugh in the face of death’ thing? It’s crap, I can see right through it.” But here, here is his very first admission of it. And that realisation would be emotive enough, but it gets better. Or possibly worse. Because Sam really does see through Dean. He already knows he’s scared. And so, he… Well. In my opinion, as an older sibling… Sam’s response is… staggering.

He says, “Watch me.” He says fucking “watch me.” Are you fucking kidding??? Because hell, Sam is the younger one. He is and always will be Dean’s baby brother. There are four whole years between them. He very well could have taken Dean at his word. He could have accepted his brother’s fate alongside him, and then sat by his bedside and watched him die. But he doesn’t. Because, as Dean said to him over the phone in Scarecrow, Sam is his own person. Dean tells him, “you’ve always known what you want, and you go after it”, and he’s right. Sam is not just the baby brother. He is incredibly smart and incredibly driven and most importantly, he does not take orders. From his dad or from Dean. So he does not take Dean at his word. He does not believe him when Dean says that he is dying and there is nothing Sam can do. He lets Dean tell him that, and then he lifts his chin and he says, “watch me.” Watch me save you.

And it is an act of unimaginable love.

Furthermore, it is, yet again, the most sibling-coded way he could have gone about it. Like Dean before him, he is pushing back. He is challenging his brother. He is disagreeing, he is being stupidly contrary, but it isn’t actually against Dean, like it might be normally. It is for him. And, like, fuck. Sam sees that Dean is scared, and he tells him not to worry in a way that is not only incredibly familiar to Dean due to the fact that it follows the pattern of their normal conversations, but is also incredibly confident. “Watch me.” Like there’s no possible way he’s going to fail at this. Because he knows Dean needs to hear it, but also because Sam cannot imagine a world in which he fails. In which Dean actually dies. And he’s going to make sure he never has to. But then. But then. Sam calls his dad. And it is a perfect fucking parallel to when Dean calls their dad in Home — except it isn’t. Both brothers call their dad when they are faced with their worst fear. Dean’s? It could be argued that it’s having to face whatever is in his childhood home, whatever it is that killed his mum. But the first thing he says to explain to his dad what’s going on is, “I’m with Sam” before following it up with “we’re in Lawrence and there’s something in our old house.” Dean is scared of his old house, there’s no doubt about it. But I would argue that his worst fear is something happening to Sam. And Sam’s is the same. But Sam’s attitude towards his fear is very different. When Dean, the daddy’s boy out of the two, calls his father, he is crying. He says he knows he’s left messages before but “I don’t know what to do”. He asks his dad to “get here”, because “I need your help.” Faced with his worst fear, he asks his dad for help — as he should, by the way — because he has spent his life under his dad’s rules and mentorship, he’s never left home, never lived alone, and even at twenty six he trusts his dad to keep Sam safe more than he trusts himself. Now Sam, Sam’s phone call is very different. He’s crying too, for obvious reasons, and at the beginning he mirrors Dean in other ways too, acknowledging that his father probably won’t even receive his message before saying his brother’s name — “It’s Dean” — and laying out the problem. But then he takes on a very different tone. Because Sam decidedly does not ask his father for help. He simply tells him what’s happening before saying, “don’t worry, because I’m gonna do whatever it takes to get him better.” I. Not you, or we. I, as in, just Sam. Because Sam is the independent one. He is the one who always pushed back against his father, he is the one who went off to university and has been living alone for years by the time Dean comes to find him. He knows he can take care of himself, and he trusts that he can take care of Dean, too. In this way, Sam is actually more mature or grown up than Dean, despite being the younger, and I think he knows it. Furthermore, I think Dean knows it. He knows that in this area, his baby brother is ahead of him, and I would argue that his phone call to Sam in Scarecrow is proof of that. I believe that it was this knowledge that allowed him to, even incredibly indirectly, ask Sam for help.

For those of you reading who do not have younger siblings, you should know that that is not something older siblings tend to do. Ask our younger ones for help. I can only ever speak for myself of course, but this is definitely something I have noticed outside of my own family.

But Dean asks Sam for help. Because he trusts him. Because he knows what Sam is capable of, and that he is capable of this. Therefore, as well as being a plea, Dean’s “And you can’t stop it” is also a fragile admission of hope, proving that he is not nearly as resigned to his fate as he would have Sam believe. Which brings us to the NEXT point:

Later, when Dean stumbles into Sam’s hotel room, looking like he already has one foot in the fricking grave, Sam tells him his plan to save him, and Dean says, grumpy as ever: “You’re not gonna let me die in peace are you?” And Sam smiles and says, “I’m not gonna let you die, period.”

I mean COME ON. Yet again we have Dean pretending to be stoic, yet feeling the tiny hesitant flicker of hope that his little brother is lighting for him, and Sam, said little brother, being so damn confident that he can save Dean’s life it’s almost cocky. And then, to add to that, we have the word “let”. “Let me die”, “let you die”. A word not typically associated with things that are outside of one’s control. And a word which Dean uses first, despite his alleged resignation. As thought it’s a choice. And Sam agrees. “I’m not gonna let you die, period.” And then he doesn’t. That crazy motherfucker actually pulls it off, snatching his big brother from the jaws of death seemingly with never more than a second’s doubt that he could.

Are you fucking kidding me???

Anyway, I have to stop now, abruptly, before I either lose it completely over this or before it becomes a full blown essay but IN CONCLUSION: The Winchester’s have probably the best, most realistically written sibling relationship I have ever come across in media, and I love them, and they are fucking insane. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

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little-peril-stories · 5 months ago

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This bitch (me) really looked at this scene (the meanest, most intense scene in the book) and thought, huh. this could be better (longer, meaner, more intense, WORSE).

here. have a strangely apropos quotation to go with this post

“Leave it. Just. Stop. Please. Before you make things w . . .”

#lps the prince of thieves #i know it seems like i should be done making edits to this book #but i swear to god i have my reasons #and the changes are fun #for us i mean #not the characters #whump writing #whumpy things #whump

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s0fter-sin · 8 months ago

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is there any actual catharsis in the boys or is it all just suffering and scrambling for a crumb of relief

#bc i cant handle whump without a bit of silver lining #its why i didnt like game of thrones #theres just so much suffering and the entire time you want just something to go right for the characters you like #but its just bad thing after bad thing #and the people you dont like keep getting worse and getting away with it #i already know homelander will exhaust me #theres enough celebrities and rich people that do horrific shit and get away with it in real life i dont need that in my shows too #like for a while? i can deal #but season four is airing and this mother fucker is still adored even if he is being sued or something #i know its not the type of show with clear cut good guys and bad guys thats not what i mean #but yeah is there any relief? or any good things?#or is it just it starts off bad and gets worse and thats the point #i need there to be a reason for all the suffering you know?#so far i like black noir (though i know what happens to him) butcher and a train #and a little bit of the deep but i can also see him annoying me for long chunks of time #is it bc elliot knight is in the new season and i can do a cod crossover with it? maybe so #either way i’ll probably end up not watching it and just watch vicariously through gifs and fic lmao #coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt #the boys #homelander #billy butcher #soldier boy

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b0amagination · 3 months ago

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Tastes of Whumptober: Day 31

My beloveds are here to send off Whumptober <3 It's been a truly incredible experience to not only stay on track with, but to actually complete. I still can't believe I did that. I'll be continuing some of what I started here, just give me a minute to rest my typing fingers <3

Content warnings for: mental health evaluation, mentions of suicide, and suicidal ideation.

Therapy

“Seriously?”

“Come on, Dec. Lay down, relax.”

Declan frowned and reluctantly reclined back on the couch, resting his head against the arm.

“On your back…”

“I could not give less of a shit, Hasan.”

“You can’t calm down when you look at me.” Hasan crossed their knees, settling a clipboard in their lap. “This is supposed to be a therapeutic environment.”

“Therapeutic my ass.”

“Yes, darling? Shall I give it a massage?”

“Shut up.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes.

“A spanking then, love?”

“Fuck off, Hasan!” He shot up and bared his teeth, but they ignored his discomfort.

“How often would you say you experience little or no pleasure in doing things?”

“Every single second I have to deal with your sorry self.”

Their clothes rustled and something clinked on the coffee table next to him. His eyes flicked over to see Hasan setting down their belt, the heavy buckle meeting glass.

“Tell the truth and I won’t use it today. Or anything else for that matter.” Well, his attention was piqued but he still leveled his gaze, glowering. “Now tell me again. How often do you experience little or no pleasure in doing things?”

“What kind of things?”

“Let’s say hobbies. Watching television, playing games, and so on.” They were clicking their pen in the silence.

“Probably half the time,” he mumbled.

“Would you say several days this past week, or more than half the days?”

“Picky much? The latter.”

“How often have you felt down, depressed, or hopeless?”

“It’s a little hard to separate my mental health from your influence.”

“Estimate, my dear. You’re stalling.”

He was, but his question didn’t come without merit either.

“Every day then.”

“Do you experience trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, or sleeping too much?”

“Sometimes. Depends how much you torture me.”

“Touché. Have you been experiencing tiredness or low energy?”

“Constantly.” The pen circled another number. “You know I’ve done this a million times before, right? I know I’m depressed.”

“You told me before that you were in remission.”

“Something like that, at some point. I’m not perfect.”

“I didn’t say you should be. I want to understand your state of mind, sweetheart. Have you had a poor appetite or been overeating?”

“Not really. Probably no.”

“Alright. And do you feel bad about yourself? That you’re a failure, or have let people down?”

“No, Jesus, you just want me to talk about being miserable.”

“Declan.” They raised a brow, flicking the belt buckle. “Truth. Now.”

“...sometimes.”

“Interesting.”

“Don’t interesting me-!”

“Have you had trouble concentrating on activities?”

“Yeah, on weekdays. Always checking the goddamn time for some reason.”

“And how about speed? Are you moving so slowly or so erratically that others would have noticed?”

“That’s a question for you, isn’t it?”

“What answer would you expect?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“I would agree. And in the past week, have you had any thoughts of hurting yourself, or thoughts that you would be better off dead?”

“I think you hurt me enough for the both of us, Hasan.” Declan crossed his arms and turned away, staring into the cushions. “Circle the one and leave me alone.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“Excuse you?”

“You know precisely what I’m asking.”

“No, asshole. No I don’t. But if you wanna pink slip me, then be my guest.”

“Just covering my bases.” Hasan stood, picking up their belt.

“Woah! You said you wouldn’t!” He shoved himself back into the couch, watching with wide eyes as they threaded it back through their belt loops.

“I did indeed.” They fastened it and picked up the clipboard, tucking it under their arm and tapping it again with the pen. “We’re going to keep that in check, whether you like it or not.”

#whumptober2024 #no.31 #therapy #original characters #writing #emotional whump #depression #mental health #suicidal ideation #suicide mention #ask to tag #threats of torture #defiant whumpee #creepy whumper #whumptober #whump writing #my writing #whump #tastes of whumptober #Hasan and Declan #Hasan Badeaux #Declan Labelle #normal conversations in the badeaux household <33333 #they're so messy and complicated i love them #so blorbocoded #hasan says i know you are mentally ill and i will be controlling that please and thank you. what do you mean i cannot control it #they want their boy to be in good shape he should be grateful <33333333 #i was gonna write a flashback of their genuine past therapy experiences because both of them have done real therapy before #but that was gonna be way too long and involved for whumptober lol #I DID IT I FINISHED A MONTHLONG EVENT FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER WOWOWWOWOWOWOW

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byteofwhump · 9 months ago

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to live without the dignity of people

(radmilla and elfreide belong to @dresden-syndrome ; thanks for letting me borrow them ehehehe. cw for noncon kissing, collars, muzzles, hair-pulling, creepy/intimate whumper. this is lady whump, dl;dr. if u saw the version where i mispelled elfreide's name no u didnt)

"you know, kitten," elfreide purrs, "from what i have heard, i expected more from you." she leans down, lifts a strand of radmilla's hair between her fingers, twisting it as if to inspect it.

radmilla glares, even as she can feel her eyes start to water. she wants to scream, to swear, to tear elfreide's throat out with her teeth. she wants to run, run as far from this place that was once her home to anywhere that will take her.

"all that talk," elfreide says, petting radmilla's hair with gentle touches, "and yet, for all you have lost, your precious comrades in arms have gained nothing. at best, they remain the same as they once were. at worst..." she slips a finger below radmilla's collar, a feather-light touch against her skin. "i do so hope they managed to catch the tall one. she would look marvelous on her knees, don't you think?"

radmilla growls, muffled by the muzzle across her face, and tries to swing her head up, pull away. elfreide's hand tightens, cutting off radmilla's growl into a gasp of pain. she pulls the girl's head back, tilts it up until her throat is bared, forces her to struggle to breath against the tension.

"you *lost*, little traitor," elfreide hisses. she flicks the tag on radmilla's ear, smiles to herself at the whimper it draws from the once-proud revolutionary. "now look at you." she forces radmilla's head to turn, angles it so she can see herself in the mirror, a pathetic *thing* kneeling on the floor, collar at her throat and muzzle across her mouth. "bound and gagged at the feet of the very enemy you sought to depose."

tears run down radmilla's face, dripping onto the muzzle. elfreide smiles, leaning down and bringing her lips to radmilla's ear. "*this*, my darling little rebel, is what it means to 'live without the dignity of people'." elfreide brings a hand beneath radmilla's chin, tilts her head so she can lean down and kiss her through the muzzle, licking her lips to taste the savory taste of radmilla's pain that pool there as she throws the girl's own words back in her face.

"i do hope," elfreide purrs, "that you will find it to your liking."

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citrine-elephant · 3 months ago

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abduction/ambush concept for good ol' agent kennedy..... ->

leon catches someone taking his picture. it's a creepshot for sure, but with his line of work.... he can't be too careful now.

immediately he can tell his young woman knows she's been caught, and immediately he tries to get a feel for the situation.

she's embarrassed. she's looking away. and leon's.... not so sure about it. so, he makes his way over nonchalantly.

this woman is sat by the exit of this truckstop restaurant, by the trashcans and such. leon tries to avoid bluntly intimidating her by steering clear and throwing his stuff away. only to gently throw a comment her way, one that's meant to be playful and now blunt, but quiet to avoid drawing attention to her.

if this woman is just being creepy, he doesn't exactly want to embarrass her. she looks fresh into college and, while an adult shouldn't be acting like this.... maybe he wants to give her the benefit of the doubt, yknow?

he comments, something along the lines of, "not who you think i am, but i'm flattered. coulda just asked next time." a way to ease any tension with a joke.

and quickly, she's apologetic. "it was for a friend, i'm sorry," etc etc.

leon kinda feels bad. for the most part, he was worried less about some random girl taking creepshots and more of espionage and assassination attempts. if she's just some weirdo, then he can try to be nice at least? make the world a better place by confronting a creep and hopefully changing their ways lol.

in the best way he can, he just puts it light and asks her to not do that again. steer her on the right path.

but aha! that is the trick! while she wasn't interested in him (or maybe she plans to NOT delete that image after sending it to the sketch number she was given ahah), she was interested in the money she was paid to take photos and then lie to him if she was caught. hell, she IS a broke college student. what's wrong with sacrificing her dignity for a couple hundred bucks?

classic, "use an innocent looking young woman/kid to keep the target's guard down as a red herring!"

he might be a little weirded out on his way out, but he's more distracted by social anxiety to notice the ambush.

bonus points if this woman somehow becomes actually involved when, whoops, her desperation led her to witness this man's kidnapping and... oh god she just wants to eat something better than ramen, dude. fuck, man. shit. oh no. oh god.

and boy, is she in for a surprise when it's not just some random handsome guy getting abducted. not some poor fucker caught up in crime, or someone who owes money. ..

it's a fucking government agent involved with stopping bioterrorism. she's in deep...

#leon whump ideas #whump #this uh... yknow this was semi-inspired by an actual assassination by proxy (i think is the term)#in which some random woman were hired to play a prank -> tricked into killing #as i was writing it just got deeper and deeper into plot #the idea of this poor girl blaming herself and now leon's gotta help her #but i like to imagine while he's mad he's not really too bent outta shape into regards of her situation #like damn capitalism is rough but that was stupid lmfao #i wanna imagine leon's not gonna be too mad unless someone's actions gets someone killed (vendetta where he's really to be brutal)#he seems to wanna see good in people while also being a reasonable person/not downplaying someone's actions?#do i read that right about him idk #i wanna imagine leon's good at analyzing behavior/understanding the human condition #she's gotta eat -> does something bad -> definitely didnt realize the shit she'd get into #he sees the best in people first and also wont hesitate to deal with true evil and greed kinda thing #i mean he'll sacrifice himself for someone he barely knows so i think im at least closse #look im insecure about misreading characters/lore lol

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rhinocio · 10 months ago

Note

So…can I ask for Paykey but Mikey dies? (Yes I like to suffer)

#sorry anon buddy this is all I got #I'm too fandom old for simple whump #I need characters to have prolonged emotional arcs where they anguish for things they cannot have and mistakes they've made #also the paykey dynamic of picking on each other as flirting brings me immense joy #but feel free to play with the characters! I mean payne's not mine but I have it on good authority that iggy would love that #ROTTMNT #TMNT #michelangelo #payne #paykey #rhinociart #rhin reply #anonymous #rise oc

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whumble-beeee · 9 months ago

Text

Into the Woods and Out of the Woods

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 9

Content: mentioned past capture, angst, mentioned (potential) character death, child in distress (only for a second there tho)

* * * * * * * *

“In this life, you need to do everything in your power to survive and thrive. Supers aren’t allowed to thrive in this world. We're forced to hide, we're forced to serve, we're taken advantage of. If we don't comply, then we're dangerous, we’re feared, then we're subjugated, imprisoned, or killed. Just look at what they did to me because of my power, weak as it is [...] [They] made an example out of me, knowing I couldn't fight back, and time and time again it has been shown that I am not the only one. The current system needs to be dismantled and started anew. And if– when– ‘The Man’ says no? Then he must be taken down too.”

– Supervillain Aurelias “Elias” Byrne, codename “Alias"

**Note: Danger Level Five: Any sightings of this individual should be reported to the police immediately. DO NOT INTERACT.

* * * * * * * *

[~Not long before Stan McKellen’s recapture (the events of Ch. 1)~]

"My legs hurt!" a high voice groaned from just behind Stan. He sighed deeply and simply continued walking, arms and legs burning for rest from the nonstop exertion.

"Yeah I know, mine too. But we're almost there. And you're not the one with a bad knee, you can make it."

"But you have a magic cane to help you! I just have my stupid normal legs!" Chloe stomped on the ground with each syllable to illustrate her point.

"I'm not using my magic right now, so the cane is just a cane and my leg still hurts just as much as usual,” Stan countered. “More actually. Not to mention my wrist is killing me because I didn't have time to grab my crutch. So that's just gone now, I guess."

"You should use your power to make it easier, like you do when you’re fighting. And use it on me too! Just make my legs walk for me!"

"Not happening, I don’t wanna pass out and die from exhaustion on this hill using my powers because your legs got tired."

"But I'm about to pass out and die on this hill from exhaustion because my legs got tired. You should teach me how to use my powers, then I could just do it myself.”

“Squeaks, I don't know if you noticed, but we're basically being hunted for sport because of those exact powers.”

"Chloe, you wanna ride on my back?" Marcus chimed in, exhausted from listening to his beloved fiancé and said fiancé's equally as beloved younger sister bicker back and forth. Nonstop. For the entire trip.

"Marcus, don't encourage her. We're literally almost there," Stan groaned. He actually had no idea how far they were from the 'campsite'. But Chloe didn't need to know that.

“It's fine Stan, she's tired, she's a kid, we've been walking a long time. I get it.”

“Nuh-uh!” Chloe said in an obnoxiously nasally voice.

“Nuh-uh?” Marcus questioned, at the same time Stan reflexively cracked out a “Yuh-huh!” without even knowing what the hell he was “yuh-huh"-ing.

“Nuh-uh, I'm not a kid!”

“You're thirteen actually, so you're a kid,” Marcus laughed.

“Nuh-uh, nope! Thirteen. ThirTEEN! Teen! Teenager! I'm a teenager! Not a kid!”

“You're not a teenager until you're sixteen, actually,” Stan stated, amused smile pulling lightly at the corners of his mouth.

“Sixteen is basically an adult already, you can't be basically an adult and also barely a teenager, Stan,” Chloe said matter-of-factly.

But at least she wasn't complaining about being tired anymore.

“And I am a teenager, or else why would it be thirTEEN!?”

“Well, only kids get to ride on my back,” Marcus retorted with ridiculously heightened haughtiness, nose raised and all. “So no riding on my back for you then, big teenager.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes at Marcus. “Fine, I didn't want to ride on your back anyw–!”

“AND we're here!” Stan announced cheerfully, cutting them off with a mighty huff.

And all fell silent.

Wind whistled through the branches overhead, swishing through leaves with a gentle rustle as the crunching of dirt underfoot came to a grinding halt. The chirps of birds in the distance became audible in their tentative silence, whistles and cheeps and squawks filling the air with a cheerfully chaotic melody. The smell of wet dirt and decaying leaves wafted through the cool air.

Chloe, of course, was the first to point out the obvious. “Uh. What do you mean?… There's nothing here…”

“Except for the beautiful sounds and sights of nature!” Marcus proclaimed, spreading his arms out and spinning around as if surrounded by the beautiful rolling hills of Austria instead of… Well, the same trees they’d been passing by unheeded for the last hour.

Stan pointed at a dinky circle of rocks on the ground, a slight char to the earth scorching the center of the ring. “Fire pit. This is it.”

“Oh okay, my bad, I guess,” Chloe sarcastically raised her arms in surrender. “Didn't know that a pile of rocks passes for a campsite now.”

“Well, it's what we've got.” Stan plopped his full-to-bursting backpack into the barely-packed dirt. “Hard to be picky when you're on the run from a buncha psycho government crazies trying to torture us or whatever.”

Chloe raised her brow and tilted her head at her brother, arms crossed in that know-it-all sort of way. “Stan. Just because you got a shattered knee doesn’t mean you need to break my back by making me sleep on the best choice owl bones and sharp rocks.”

“Chloe!” Marcus' voice nearly cracked with how high it went, appalled.

“No, no, it’s fine Marcus, she didn't mean it like that,” Stan said. She was just frustrated. “Look, it’s what we got for now. I’ll try to figure out something better for tomorrow. And hey, at least it's not under a bridge or something.”

“Or some mad scientist's lab,” Marcus pointed out.

Chloe shrugged. “I'm just saying, generally it's good to find a place where you don't have to wonder if someone might’ve been burned at the stake.”

Stan had to admit, he felt that same hopeless pit in his stomach that his sister must've been feeling. This was not how he had been hoping to spend his day. Or week, month, year. In fact, he had been hoping he would never have to flee again. Sadly, sometimes it's just not written in the stars that certain people get their way. Ever, apparently.

“... hey Chlo?” Stan called. “How you holding up?”

She pelted a rock she'd found somewhere into the endless void of the forest. “I'm fine. Wish we had like…” she gestured around, arms wide before throwing them back down to her sides. “Walls. Or like a roof, or something.”

Ditto.

“Stan?” Marcus called from behind him. Stan quickly made his way over to his fiancé so they could talk in private, as private as you could talk in the woods when the person you're talking about is a 3-second jog away.

“What is it? What's wrong?” Stan whispered quickly.

Marcus grinned conspiratorially at him, eyes flicking around the clearing as if searching for ninjas eavesdropping to learn of his dastardly plans.

“I think it's time–” he whispered dramatically, “for Plan 'Brother-sister-bonding-by-teaching-her-how-to-use-her-powers-and-get-her-out-of-the-mood-she’s-in’.”

Stan scoffed, failing to not let an amused shine crack through features at Marcus’ ridiculousness even as a very real worry took root in his chest. “I guess it probably is time she learned. It’s just hard for her, you know how complicated her feelings are about the powers. But I suppose if no one's around out here to see it, plenty of space…”

“And hopefully it'll help her out of that funk. I can't even begin to think what must be going through her head right now…”

“I can.”

Will I ever see my friends again?

What important things did I leave behind?

Where are we gonna sleep tonight?

When is the next time I'll get the chance to eat?

What if my brother is caught?

What if we're both caught?

Will I finally get to see what mom and dad and Stan had to go through?

I thought we were finally safe.

“It's… it's bad.”

Marcus just nodded sympathetically. The silence was excruciating.

“... but she's a tough kid, she'll make it through.” Stan finally managed to choke out. “We all will.”

Marcus pursed his lips, thinking for a moment. “How about this: you both go train, and while you're gone, I'll go back to that convenience store we saw a couple miles back and get some supplies. Y’know, the essentials, marshmallows, some chocolate, graham crackers…”

Stan lit up like the northern lights, eyes full of stars. “S'mores night!”

“Yeah! We can use that crappy little firepit you found!”

“Oh, she would love that!” Stan whisper-shouted, nearly jumping up and down, vibrating with excitement.

Marcus’ eyes glinted. His teasing smile nearly made Stan blush.

“She's not the only one, huh?” He poked Stan in the stomach, and Stan nearly squealed as he jumped back out of the way, even almost managing to avenge himself by thrusting the tip of his cane into Marcus’ chest. But Marcus grabbed the cane and yanked it forward, pulling a screech from Stan before he felt Marcus’ strong body pin his arms to his sides in a tight embrace before he fell flat on his face.

“Caught you,” he teased in a sing-songy voice. “Whatcha gonna do now?”

“Oh get off it Silva!” Stan yelled as he halfheartedly shoved to try and get away, secretly wishing he could stay here forever.

Marcus let Stan go, instead grabbing his fiancé's hands in his own and squeezing them tight, looking lovingly into each other's eyes.

"We'll have a nice night tonight,” he reassured. “I know things are horrible right now… but things always get worse before they get better. And hell, they could always be worse.”

Slight flashbacks so kindly reminded Stan of the horrors. Every day away from that hellscape was another better day.

“Things could definitely be worse.” Stan tossed his arms over Marcus’ shoulders with a cheeky grin. “ Like for example… I could be anywhere else in the world, and then I wouldn’t be with you.”

He pulled Marcus down into a soft kiss, one hand on the back of his head to gently guide him and feeling the warmth of skin against skin, Marcus’ body against his own, supporting him wholly. And in that moment, where the world was just the two of them, he let himself imagine that everything truly was okay. That they weren't being hunted down, that they hadn't just had to flee from their home again, that he wasn't alone in this world. Because he had Chloe, and he had Marcus, and he would always have them forever.

He pulled away just as he heard Chloe shout out an over-exaggerated “Ewwwww! Get a room!” From behind them. Stan rolled his eyes and pushed off of his fiancé, who was now practically giggling.

“You better get going if you want to get back before dark. Meet up in, say, three hours?”

Marcus gave a goofy grin and started on his way back up the trail with a big thumbs up. “Will do! Be back with yummy treats soon!”

“I'll see you in a bit! I love you!”

“Love you more!”

“Are you done eating each other's faces?” Chloe yelled. “Where's he going? What's happening, what are you planning?”

Then Marcus was gone. That small pang in his heart that came around when he couldn't see those who he loved most returned again. He'd gotten used to it, but it never stung any less.

Stan ignored the questioning as he made his way over to his little sister, who was now balancing with her arms out swinging wildly, stepping around and around from rock to rock of the small ‘fire pit’.

“Hey, Chloe?”

Her gaze shot up to his, sea-foam blue eyes peering into turquoise-green. His breath caught in his throat. The words died on his tongue for a moment as he remembered all that he had done for her. To keep her safe. To try and keep her happy. The times he clutched her in his hold, held her hand, shoved her behind him, shielded her from anything that could harm her in favor of harming himself instead.

And he would keep doing that, every single time. But that didn’t mean he would always succeed, and they needed to prepare for that.

It was finally time, huh?

Chloe tilted her head at him. “Uh… Stan? Why are you looking at me like a serial killer?”

Stan startled. “Ah, right! Sorry. I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go train your powers some.”

Chloe’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Really!?”

She jumped up as high as she could off the rocks and scrambled over to Stan. “I thought you said I couldn’t learn them because they’re dangerous!”

“I never said that!” Stan protested. “We just haven't had the chance to do it because other people want to hurt us over them. That’s why they’re dangerous. Not the power itself. Well, the power itself also can be dangerous... But you need to know it. To defend yourself. In case.”

“...in case?” Her eyebrows creased slightly.

“Uh… well, yeah, in case–”

“Boring! Let's go! I wanna learn!” Chloe interrupted a bit too quickly, grabbing Stan by the wrist and damn near tripping him flat on his face when she started to drag him toward… she didn’t even know, really. To learning powers!

“Augh! Chloe! Stop, I’m gonna trip and die and it'll be your fault!” Stan’s heart jumped into his throat and he struggled to keep his balance.

“Use your magic to fly or something,” she said giddily, though she did let up slightly on the pulling. “It's like a warm-up so you can teach me better! I bet I'll be even better at it than you!”

“Ha! In your dreams you'll be better than me!”

* * * * * * * *

Chloe was unusually quiet on their trek to find a spot to practice. Stan would say something, and then she'd brighten up for a moment, bantering and hollering as usual. But then her jaw would clench, her brows knit together. Staring into the middle distance as they walked, looking at nothing in particular. Thinking. She even ignored various cool-looking rocks and tree formations, never once trying to climb the haphazard structures.

She might be worse off than he originally thought.

They came upon a clearing in the brush. Flat ground, no trees or rocks in the way.

Perfect.

“Alright, Chloe,” Stan started, startling Chloe out of her walk as he took a ready position, feet apart and grounded for a steady base, cane at the ready. No going back now. “Now I've seen you trying to use your powers without permission before and honestly, you did pretty good.”

“Nuh-uh!” She interrupted obnoxiously.

“Yuh-huh! I've seen it!” Stan bit back without missing a beat.

“Nuh-uh!!”

“Yuh-HUH!”

“NUH-UH!” she shouted, and Stan barely managed to block when she jumped up and tried to bap him on the top of the head.

“What are you even ‘nuh uh’-ing here?” Stan cried, accompanied by a small screech as he ducked away.

“I thought you were about to say I shouldn't have done that. But then you said something else,” Chloe shrugged.

“So you doubled down?”

A pause.

“Yesssss...”

Stan rolled his eyes.

“You really shouldn't have used your powers, to be fair…” he considered, tapping his finger on his cane. “Especially since you know what would happen if the wrong people found out. You remember. The– the uh…”

The running.

The raids.

The people in the armored vests.

The guns.

The murder.

Our magic killing just as easily as it lifts a mug into the air.

My disappearance, the experiments I won’t talk about.

Our parents.

Stan cleared his throat. That was all in the past now.

Chloe’s eyes were downcast, holding her arms close in a self-hug.

Yeah.

She remembered.

“But uh– But I did the same when I was your age, so I can't judge. You did pretty good from… from what I saw. So I want you to show me what you've got so far.”

Stan lifted himself off the ground in a light float, the bottom of his good leg and his hands glowing a harsh bright blue as they lifted him away from the earth. “Then I can show you how it's really done.”

Chloe’s eyes raised, a tired smile forcing its way to her lips. “Show off.”

“Well, maybe once you learn, you can also get a big head about it.”

Chloe gave a small huff in acknowledgment, her smile slowly falling from her face as she stared blankly at the ground.

Stan carefully lowered to the ground. This wasn't something they could just ignore and hope would go away, was it?

He crept up to Chloe, the wind rustling the trees overhead creating an almost deafening cacophony in the silent spell that had befallen them like a thick blanket.

“Chlo?...”

She wouldn't meet his eyes.

“Talk to me, Squeaks, you’ve been off all day. What’s wrong?”

She took a sharp breath in, face scrunching up, eyes edged red.

“What do you think?” she whispered, hissed, practically. “I hate our powers. This is stupid, they’re stupid, I wish we never had magic. I don't wanna learn, I wanna– I just wa-anna be normal.”

Ah. Yeah.

Stan knew the feeling all too well.

He tried to find something encouraging to say to help lift her back up to normal, to tell her that everything would be okay and that she was perfect the way she was, powers and all. But he found that he really didn't have any words to say to make this better. Nothing that was true anyway. She wasn't wrong.

“... Chloe,” he finally started. “I need you to learn this for me, kid. I need you to be able to… to-to defend yourself in case… In case I can’t.”

Chloe’s body lurched with a held-back sob. “I don’t want to learn! I hate our magic! It’s not fair! I wish we never had powers, then I could still have a normal family. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about you not being able to protect me! I wouldn’t have to protect myself, I wouldn’t have to be strong, I don’t want to be strong! I wish Mom and Dad were still here! I just want my mo-mommy and daddy-y-y!”

She cried freely now, breathing shallow and fast as she tried to catch her breath over the shuddering and the tears, muscles clenched as she hugged herself in some small attempt at security, face scrunched and small and pained as she finally let out all that she’d been holding in the entire trip. For who even knew how long.

He gazed at her with glassy eyes; his sister weeping before him. She’d been through so much. His wonderful, amazing, annoying sister who he’d been through hell to protect.

She didn't deserve this.

They both didn't deserve this.

He pursed his lips. Tears burned at his eyes now too, threatening to wet his cheeks just as they were doing to Chloe.

He pulled her in close to his chest, heartbeat thrumming against her as he held her tight. A hug she didn’t reciprocate, didn’t need to.

“I know. Me too,” he whispered.

It was unfair. It was incredibly, heart-wrenchingly unfair. Just knowing everyone and everything they ever loved could be so easily ripped away from their desperate grasp as easily as wind blows leaves across the ground.

“But…”

Stan had screamed and cried about it for many a night and day, mourning the loss of the person he could have been if anything else was different.

“That’s not the hand we’ve been dealt,” Stan murmured into his sister's nappy hair, clutching her even closer as she trembled. “It's unfair, it's so, so unfair. But that's just…”

Screaming.

Crying.

Begging.

Running.

Wishing for something different.

“That's just how it is.”

And that’s why I need you to learn.

She let out a sob into his shoulder. They sat like that for a long while; Listening to the sounds of nature which never ceased around them. The whistle of the wind through trees, the birds chirping all around them. The continuously quieter weeping as the girl in the center of it all tired herself out.

“Those ho-orrible people, Chloe?” he breathed. “They want to capture you. They want to capture me. They did capture me. Tortured me. It’s a… It’s a miracle I escaped, honestly. They captured Mom, Da-ad. And–... and they would do it to you too, if-if given the chance.”

Teary wetness started to soak through the shoulder of Stan’s shirt.

He squeezed her shoulders, breath shaking. “I need you to… I need to know you can defend yourself, okay? A-and as much of a curse as our powers are, they’re strong. So strong, just like you. You can learn how to use them to defend yourself, right? In case I can’t anymore, in case–”

“DON’T SAY THAT!!” Chloe cried out, angry, desperate azure eyes flashing angrily up at her brother as she pushed away from him. “Say that you’ll always be here for me! Always! You can’t get caught again! I need you! Marcus needs you! You’re gonna stay with me and we’re gonna find Mom and Dad and you’re never going anywhere ever again, and neither am I! And neither is Marcus, or Mom, or Dad, and if anyone tries to hurt them again then I'll kill them and then we can all stay together! An’-- an’ I'll get the guys who tortured you too and I'll make them pay.”

Stan felt a melancholy smile overtake his face through the running tears. Maybe not the exact right motivations, wanting to kill anyone who ever tried to hurt them.

But it was a start.

He knew he couldn’t promise that he would always be here to protect her. His parents had promised the same thing. And yet…

“Don't worry, Squeaks, I’m–... I’m not going anywhere. Nev-never plan to,” He sniffled. “Also, uh… maybe don't kill them… that wouldn't make you much uh, much better than them, would it?” He winked. “Maybe just maim them a bit.

Chloe nodded slightly, jaw set as she took a deep, shaking breath and a similar smile Stan's started invading her features as well. “Yeah… Jus’-just broken bones. Thr-throw them into the ceiling like you do a little. Pay them back for your knee...”

Stan snickered. “I would love to pay back the person who crapped up my knee…” and he couldn't help the welling pride in his chest as he raised his gaze to look his sister in the eye once more. It almost caused the tears to start pouring all over again.

“And if you were the one to get them, Squeaks? Maybe you let me get in on the action too? God, I would let you lord that over me forever.”

Chloe burst into a little laugh, still marked with the haunting ghosts of sobs. “I would never let you forget it.”

“So… you're on board then?” he asked tentatively. “Gonna learn your powers and defeat the bad guys for me? Marcus is bringing some treats back to camp for when we’re done too, though you’ll get them either way, we all need a bit of a pick me up.”

“Treats?” She looked up at him like an astounded little puppy dog. Stan couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah! So you wanna work the magic a bit? Or you just wanna head back and be lazy?

“I…” She was still shaking. “I… I think… magic. But uh, but… You-you can fight your own bad guys. I’ll be too busy floating around you to help you not get your ass kicked.”

Her eyes widened slightly when Stan raised his eyebrow at her.

“I mean… Butt.”

Stan scoffed. “Yeah, okay potty mouth–”

“Potty mouth? Are you five years old?”

“Am I five years old? You’re the one who can't say ‘ass’.”

“That's because you're my brother!”

“Well,” Stan theatrically cracked his knuckles and drew some power up through his cane as he grinned at her smugly. “You know any five-year-olds that can do this?”

He swiped with a grand flourish at the nearest tree across the clearing, a full sweep through air in front of him with all the force he could muster up, bathing the now sunset orange-red ring of trees in a blast of eerie aqua blue. A deafening crackle-pop came from deep within the trunk, as if the wood itself was screaming out in protest, in agony, as cracks started to explode outward, shining through with bright blue light bursts. The side of the tree exploded with a thunderous roaring creak, gnarled and deep and sharp and twisting as it showered bark and wood pulp down on the two siblings as the both screamed in what was terrified joy and dove to duck and cover.

Stan immediately realized his error with a playful screech, jumping in front of Chloe and pulling her in close to shield her from the flying wooden shrapnel machine that the tree had so unwittingly become.

Then once again, the clearing was safe, wooden rain finishing its downpour, a few stray splinters tip tapping into the ground. The only sound to be heard now was the breathless laughter of two siblings as they took in the full breadth of what just happened.

Stan had just exploded a tree.

It looked like a cannonball had been shot through it! But surprisingly, it was still standing. Tilting, sure. But standing.

Stan cleared his throat, blinking against the wood dust. Chloe now stared openmouthed and wide-eyed at the mighty tree, a deep eternal gash scarring to the very heart of the wood.

“I uh–...” Stan coughed with a curt laugh. He had to pant to get enough air into his system “I didn’t expect it to explode that much.”

Chloe’s gaze shifted back to her brother, open mouth and all.

“That. Was. AWESOME!!” She cried, jumping up and down like a child on a trampoline. “I mean, you basically killed that tree… but that was so cool! I didn’t know we could explode things!!”

“Well I mean, I didn’t really explode it, I just kinda hit it hard enough that it exploded. Kinda surprised it's still standing.”

“Show me!” Chloe exclaimed, bouncing over to the tree to examine the damage more closely. “Show me show me show me! Show me how to do that, I wanna hit that hard!”

“Careful, you’ll get splinters!”

“Shoulda thought of that before you exploded a tree!”

Stan hurried after her as fast as he could go without winding himself even more. He leaned extra hard on his cane as he walked, movements just a bit more sluggish. That had taken so much more energy than he had thought it would, even with the cane helping him along and aiding the power. But hey, at least Chloe was excited again. Happy. For now.

That’s all Stan could ever ask for.

* * * * * * * *

@paperprinxe | @tippytappytyping | @chaotic-orphan

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