orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

No. Declan was so much better than that.

The headache didn’t quite hurt, in that weird way that nausea wasn’t exactly hurt, but the touch to Aoba’s hair was another matter entirely. Even gentle, even delicately, the nerves took the sensation and amplified it much too far, startling Aoba into jerking his head back with a widening of his eyes.

More than that, he jerked back, like some old movie adventurer stumbling back against a secret door unbeknownst to them and getting tumbled into someplace mysterious and dark—complete with someone else entirely getting spun on the swivel and shoved out into light. Mentally speaking, that was.

Declan might even see it: hazel eyes rapidly polished into a bright, inhuman gold.

Surprise wasn’t completely in Desire’s character, but fascination served well enough. For a few moments more he was uncharacteristically docile, blinking at the back of Declan’s hand, then sliding his gaze along the bare musculature of that strong arm until he found the concerned face somewhere around the other end of it.

Oh. Well hello there. Now this was unexpected.

Declan reached out with surprisingly quick reflexes, grabbing Aoba's shoulder when he looked like he might fling himself backwards. He stopped at jerking his head up, though, and the Titan's grip instantly relaxed, hand sliding away in relief. Must have just startled the man?

...His eyes...

"Are you alright?" Declan asked again, tilting his head slowly to the side, arching a thick, barely visible, white brow.

"Do you need some water? Tea? You look..." He trailed off, unsure how to describe the difference he saw in Aoba. He looked the same, but also changed somehow. Instinct made him question what was in front of him while rationale told him nothing could have happened while they were sitting there together. Still, the Guardian had a doubt that nagged at the back of his skull.

Declan’s show of concern was met with a slow chuckle, that golden gaze sliding away for a moment to glance at the trinket still in his hand before giving it a disinterested toss back onto the table with the rest of the junky knickknacks.

“Better than ever, big guy,” he answered, voice lower in pitch and somewhat more drawling than when the Aoba that Declan knew spoke. His eyes were sharp in more than just their color, raking over the Guardian’s exposed body with very keen and very obvious interest.

He pushed himself up, as focused and confident as Aoba had been quiet and sheepish before, but not into standing, oh no. What he did was pivot, slinging one knee out and straddling the bulk of Declan’s nearer thigh. Stretching out across their host’s entire lap was, sadly, just a little too much of an actual stretch.

As Ren was just beginning to become aware that something was very off with Aoba’s brainwaves, Desire himself was moving to get a little more up close and personal with the Titan, using one broad white shoulder as a prop to hold up his own arm and balance his chin against the back of one hand. Time to mess with him some more.

“I’d like you to get your hands all over me again. You left me pretty unfinished last time.”

For a while Declan just assumed the topic of conversation had changed and he was too slow to catch the segue. He didn't assume the worst - that Aoba had a mental illness, some lapse like a seizure - and just accepted things. Though they terrified him in ways body-shredding rounds from Cabal troops and Vex lasers never could. Still, he was a Titan Guardian, fearless and peerless, as the saying went. So he let Aoba sit on his leg and rest against him, looping an arm around the man's back for additional support as a courtesy. Declan was build like a brick shithouse, sure, but a thigh wasn't exactly a proper seat.

"I don't...know what you mean..." he murmured, brows furrowing in minor consternation. He didn't, at first, thinking back, then memory drifted out of the fog of weeks of battle and he smiled slightly.

"I don't know a whole lot, but I learned how to crack a few things recently. Mac is teaching me a lot of things." Things the other Guardian was learning for himself because he thought it would somehow make him more appealing to his unrequited love, but any skill to help others was of interest to Declan.

"I can still do a deep tissue neck and shoulder rub." Things he could use, himself, with all he'd been through, but there were too few people he would even let touch him. Aoba was quickly insinuating himself into that short list without Declan any the wiser.

"But...not with you sitting like that," the pale man added, arching brow and shifting his leg slightly, lifting the full weight of the other man effortlessly.

Woah, woah. Hold up now. Desire felt that arm wrap around him without even a second of hesitation and almost couldn’t believe it. Felt really fuckin’ nice, sure, if in need of being a little more adventurous, but suddenly he had to wonder: was this Declan guy more in touch with his own desires than he let on? It had Desire leaning on the Titan like a content but still predatory cat, listening closely as he spoke.

Not another word of ‘are you alright’. No odd looks, no apparent suspicion. Just…as natural as you like.

And then that hoist of the leg he was straddling! Desire drew in a short breath of surprise, then was somewhere between laughing and groaning on the exhale. This guy…either he didn’t notice or he didn’t care, and while the first option had some pretty hilarious implications in Desire’s eyes, it was the second that kept him feeling so damn magnanimous. (Or at least that was the only thing he could be truly aware of, knowing nothing about medicine except for how much it pissed him off when it walled him away from the world.)

“I bet you could mess me up a whole lot better than that,” he said with that laugh, putting his free hand to Declan’s face. It was no sweet caress, but he didn’t let it be just a rough grab, either. It was a more studious sort of hold as he lifted his own head from his other hand to look the Guardian all the better in those colorless, glowing eyes of his.

His eyes might not have been the source of his power, but looking into others certainly was a gateway to deeper delving, to really getting to the heart of their minds. What did Declan really want, he wondered? Wondered, but didn’t want to just tear him open to find out. Something about the whole conscious, package deal was just far more interesting right now.

Definitely a lot more interesting than acknowledging the scrabble of little dog feet as Ren came running into the room from the back.

What Declan wanted was Aoba to be happy and safe. He wanted the man to stay, sure, but he wanted his friend to have the rest more. His own desires were less concrete, less internally virulent, and there was nothing dark behind them. The things he wanted in life were either very small and harmless, or very big and abstract; from being able to sleep where there weren't rocks pressing into his back to genuine galactic peace. But the surface-most desires were very, very simple to the point of being child-like.

He just wanted his space to continue having life in it, particularly of the Aoba-shaped and sounding sort, and wanted to be allowed to take care of someone in a way that was meaningful to him on a personal level instead of just fighting in a never-ending war for some nebulous lulls.

"Mmm, hm. Um...the point isn't to mess you up, it's to help? With whatever aches or ails you. I would never try to hurt you. You're...You're important. You don't damage that which is important," Declan stated carefully, eyes attempting sliding off to the side as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, usually cool skin heating under Desire's hand when he realized his gaze was fixed. He took it in stride, however, assuming nothing more than that he wanted to convey his own honesty. It was alright to tell Aoba he was important, wasn't it? No one was insignificant to Declan, of course, but there was a place reserved in his mind, for certain people. People he would drop everything for. Fly across the galaxy for. Endanger his life for.

"I'm sorry I didn't do better last time. I suppose I'm not very good at it. I don't...like touching people. So I don't have a lot of experience." Except Aoba, evidently, since he wasn't flinching away the way he would often with others. Even Mac could only be tolerated so much, but touching Aoba felt less threatening, in a different way.

It was as easy as just…dumping a box of photographs out onto a table, spreading them out with his hand to see them all. No prying, and barely any digging. Declan was answering him all while Desire was thumbing through his thoughts as simply as Granny would a box of collected recipe cards. Desire’s power was there in it, but there was nothing to force when everything gave way and showed itself so easily.

No dark, repressed desires. Barely any secrets he was keeping for himself. Nothing for Desire to sink his fingers in and drag out into the light to crush and break him with. What a weird guy! In all his years of flaying people’s minds down to their blackest cores, he had never, ever met someone so…wholesome.

“…You’re so pure I think I’m getting cavities just listening to you,” Desire remarked, his grin pulled sideways. It wasn’t even all that much of an insult, really. The big guy was honest, and really, Desire was very much a fan of people that knew exactly what they wanted. Declan’s problem more seemed to be a lack of really understanding than lying to himself and denying it.

Desire wasn’t about to call it anything as fluffy as love, but he saw nothing wrong with someone thinking Aoba was important, especially since Desire himself didn’t appear to be getting ruled out of this equation!

…Ren was growling. A low, little sound in his dog throat as he stood a ways behind the couch, ears turned back and eyes narrowed. Desire broke his eyes away from Declan’s enough for a sideways lean and peer past his shoulder, just to scoff at the Allmate. Still all buried away in there, huh? Now there was someone in need of being dragged out in the open, but at the same time, Desire wasn’t in a mood to be bothered.

What he did was lean forward, wrapping his arms around Declan’s neck in a deliberate, almost exaggerated embrace. Aoba might have been clothed in full still, but Desire was sure the Guardian had more than enough bare skin to appreciate the contact. Though one hand lightly scratched through the fine hairs of Declan’s nape, it was Ren that Desire shot a smug, dry stare from over the loop of his arms.

“Buzz off, mutt,” he said, sounding not the least bit Aoba-like.

"I'm not sure what purity has to do with cavities," Declan murmured, tilting his head a bit into the touch without intention. For someone that professed to not like being touched, he didn't seem to mind that much at all. Then the man was up against him and the Titan froze after a sharp inhale, the muscles in his neck tensing briefly. He almost missed the strange exchange between Aoba and Ren. Almost.

"Is everything alright, Ren?" the Guardian asked, both arms looped around the man against him then, reflexive. His grip slackened a fraction when he heard his friend's words, generous lips curving into a frown.

"Are you two...fighting or something?" he asked, Ghost drifting over slowly, blue eyes flicking between the odd tableau Aoba and Declan created and the Allmate. More perceptive of minutiae than his companion Titan, the Ghost ran a quick scan of Aoba and compared it to previous scans, noting the subtle differences, but keeping silent for the moment. Ghosts were equipped with full personal intelligence, able to disobey commands, lie, withhold things. He wanted to confirm things for himself before weighing in, and Declan seemed to be alright with or without his interference. It was important to him that his Guardian grow on his own, and this bizarre turn of events since Aoba's arrival was doing good things.

Didn't mean he couldn't be cautious.

Desire scoffed a little laugh, lounging on Declan like he belonged there—was entitled to it, even. His fingers kept dragging up and down, back and forth. “We’ve been fighting as long as we’ve known each other, not that he really remembers it right now.”

“I cannot identify what has happened to Aoba,” Ren himself was saying, dark eyes flicking up towards Ghost as if he thought the other construct might be able to support him somehow. “His brainwave patterns are highly abnormal. It’s hard to explain my analysis but—he should not be allowed to remain in this state. Declan, I would strongly recommend you get his medicine from the bathroom counter.”

“Oh, come on, who needs that? Big guy doesn’t seem to mind me at all.” Desire drawled, giving his hips a provocative little shift against Declan’s thigh, half drag and half grind. Neither Allmate nor construct struck him as particularly threatening, not to mention that the idea of getting medicated itself wasn’t as much of a threat anymore, either. “I’m just giving him more of what he wants~”

"Oh."

Just like that, it all made sense. Something was 'wrong' with Aoba. Why else would he be so casual and even...even intimate with Declan? How long had he been having a problem? Was the discussion of friendship only a result of this shift in personalty? Pale eyes shifted away slowly, one of Declan's hands sliding away from Aoba's waist to reach up and clasp the hand scraping at his nape, gently pulling it away.

"Please stop," he sighed softly, looking back to the other man, expression hurt, though he was doing a good job of veiling it. Not too hard when the greater emotion was genuine concern.

"I don't...I don't mind, but it isn't right. If you're not well, or just...not yourself, completely, then this isn't appropriate. I don't want that. Taking advantage of people...that isn't good," he almost scolded, though he was saying it as much to himself as to Aoba. To his mind, what Ren was saying was akin to the time Mac got raging drunk somehow, and proceeded to spill all of his woes to a very distressed and helpless Declan who had to thoroughly pummel a man and firmly redirect a woman, both of whom tried to take advantage of the sobbing Guardian throwing himself at anyone willing to lend an ear. Maybe not the same, but the best similar situation he could equate it too in his limited life experience.

"I don't want to force him to do something, Ren. It's not hurting him or anyone else, is it? Are you?" he asked, looking up apologetically, not meaning to talk about Aoba as though he weren't there. It was his body, after all.

"Should you rest? Do you want me to get your medicine?" Best to try a gentler approach for the moment. He was willing to talk, at least.

Well, so much for Desire’s good humor. Sadly, he was physically no match for Declan’s strength even when gently used, so he found his hand pulled away. He sat up in turn as well, mostly so that he could turn a slightly sour look upon the Guardian in exchange for his concern.

“Like hell I do,” he snorted. “It’s better to me than the shit the old woman had ‘Aoba’ take, but no, I don’t.”

Desire sighed then, gaze going sideways as he twisted his hand in Declan’s grip, experimentally. “I’m better than I’ve ever been, and I’m every bit ‘me’ that I’ve always been. And here I was, thinking you and I were going to get along just fine. I could hurt you,” he added at the last, golden eyes snapping back to Declan’s. “Should we find out?”

He shifted his tone, then. Hard to say if he really was of a mood to hurt anyone right now, but if he could read the Titan like he just had, then he could make him obey, too. Just enough to make a point.

“Let go of me.”

With or without powers, Declan would have obeyed, not holding on too strongly in the first place. Big and brute though he looked, he was as careful as physically possible with the other man. When Desire shifted, the Guardian was already letting go. He just hurried it up when the man demanded it of him.

"I don't...understand why we couldn't still." get along, he meant, though he was waving on the edge of uncertainty and a throbbing migraine, staring wide-eyed into Desire's gaze. If the man pried again, he'd find Declan just as sincere as before. Hurt, sure, but he didn't like Aoba, or whomever, any less for this circumstance. It was just a facet of the man he hadn't known about or understood. Something he was obligated to try understanding, if he was going to call himself a friend. Even if Aoba may not have meant it, Declan had. And friends weathered the storms, right?

Ghost's blue eye narrowed and shifted, the construct silent, hovering, watching. Something about this Aoba wasn't the same, and it wasn't just his temper. When the man spoke, Declan's own brain patterns had some sort of tremor, and Ghost worried that if he wasn't acting as part of the Guardian's life support, it may have been different. Worse? He didn't know what it was, but he'd ask Ren when things resolved. For now...

"What are you?" Ghost demanded, zooming between Declan and Aoba, the spikes of his shell spinning, big eye filling the blue-haired man's vision. "And what are you trying to do? Hm?" he followed, only getting out of the way because Declan gently pushed him with one hand, the other rubbing a finger against one vaguely ringing ear. The Ghost turned, looking at the Titan thoughtfully. Declan, for his part, was starting to look sulky. Things were spiraling, and the Guardian's mood with it. He didn't feel very good at all.

Declan released him and Desire pushed away from him to stand, dismissive but also without any particular malice. This was the same moment wherein Ghost zipped in between them, only to be pushed aside, earning a scoff from the entity currently in control of Aoba’s body as he moved towards the apartment window. Even his body language was different from that of the Aoba they knew, a kind of reckless confidence that would have put him right at home among all those barflies looking to pick meaningless fights.

Ren paced around the side of the couch so as to continue keeping a physical eye on him, but stayed closer to Declan than his wayward ‘owner’. He didn’t understand why Aoba was acting this way, but something niggled at him in a very uncomfortable fashion. Still being entirely in the belief that he was an Allmate, Ren didn’t know how to properly identify feelings of déjà vu.

“I’m what every human has deep inside of them,” Desire answered with a flippant wave of his hand, back still turned on all of them. “That voice that tells you what you really want, even if society would say you can’t have it? That’s me.”

Into his pockets his hands went, posture slouched as he finally turned enough to regard the lot of them. “I’m just being who I am, now that ‘Aoba’ doesn’t have any more of Granny’s medicines to keep me buried.”

"So you're Aoba?" Declan asked, simplifying it for himself. If it was just something inside a person, it was still that person. Like...

"...Like me...when I'm angry..."he murmured, voice quiet, withdrawn. Ghost turned, looking at the Guardian for a moment, then glancing to Ren, then...not...Aoba. Suppressed emotions, maybe? the result of trauma? Declan was a very, very good man, but his anger was always pushed back and put away, so when it came out, the results were often catastrophic. Fortunately he could let that stress out on enemies in the field, but suppressed desires were a whole other monster. He really should have stored more psychology books in his memory banks...anger management was all he'd kept. Dratted.

"Is it alright to ask...why someone would lock you away? I know wanting things can lead to bad things, sometimes. But wanting things in general isn't harmful. Everyone wants something." The Titan, practical and simple to a fault.

Desire cocked an eyebrow, turning the rest of the way around when he was addressed with Aoba’s name. It had been years since he’d been strongly a part of the dominant personality, when ‘Aoba’ had actually listened to him, but it was still his name too. He did not mind being called that way again.

More amusement from him at the Guardian’s observation, a low chuckle that the Aoba they knew wouldn’t have been capable of. “Everyone does,” he agreed. “But I’m even more than that. You can feel it for yourself. That pain in your head, right?” He lifted a hand, tapping his own temple. A needless gesture, probably, but it was hard not to be a little showy. He was in control of the body, and someone was listening to him.

“That’s me. I can make your mind do whatever I want it to. ‘Aoba’ hurt a lot of people that way. Some of them were completely destroyed when we were done.” A shrug, remorseless. “It won’t do you any good to ask him, though. He doesn’t remember me. And obviously he doesn’t either.” A flick of gesture towards Ren.

"I'm sorry no one remembers you. People...shouldn't have to tear themselves apart to be at peace with themselves," Declan replied, rubbing at his other ear even as Ghost gave him a surprisingly dry look for a floating eyeball. Silent accusation that the Titan should heed his own words.

"Please don't make me do things," the Guardian added after a moment, looking up with a quizzical expression. "When you force something...it loses it's meaning and sincerity. I won't be dishonest with you, or force you to do anything either." Huffing a soft sigh, he pushed himself up from the couch, looking towards his room ( their room, though now he's not sure what to do ), then the kitchen.

"Are you hungry? Um...either of you, I suppose?" he interrupted his own train of thought, unsure if the separate facets of Aoba worked like people with dissociative disorders, where different personalities might claim different needs and wants. If this was the personification of Aoba's desires, though, it made sense to Declan to ask if he wanted something. Then again, he might be oversimplifying it for himself.

Declan’s attempts may have been clumsy, but they had one thing going for them: they were being made. Those golden eyes of Desire’s studied him, sharp and appraising.

“Hah. The only thing I have an appetite for, you’re apparently not in the mood for giving,” he replied, “But don’t worry, I don’t feel like forcing it out of you just like that. You’re already too honest. It wouldn’t be any fun. Right now, I think I’m more interested in seeing what you do with that honesty all on your own.”

Desire hmmed to himself then, glancing from Declan down to Ren, then laughingly shrugged to himself and could be heard to mutter why the hell not. He walked away from all of them, through the bedroom and into the bathroom. When he returned in no time at all, he had the needleless injector in hand, freshly loaded up with a dose.

“Here. Show of good faith,” he said, striding up to Declan and standing in front of him, hand thrust out with the injector balanced on his palm. “Bring back ‘Aoba’. He’s not as honest as you, but…this won’t be the last you see of me, either.”

Watching curiously, puzzling over the statements, Declan quietly let Other Aoba have his idle way about the rooms. Looking between Ren and Ghost, the Guardian shrugged helplessly. He'd debated protesting that he was always willing to help and wanted to know what Other Aoba wanted, but a knowing look and vague 'headshake' from Ghost stopped him.

When Desire came out with the injector, Declan took it, but paused and looked up into those sharp eyes with a small frown.

"Are you sure? I know Ren is worried, and I know...the other Aoba is consistent about his medicine but...if it isn't hurting either of you, I don't want you to feel rushed away. You're the same person. I don't want you gone anymorr than I do him. You're my friend." He ventured, still hurt and unsure about everything but unwilling to drop his end of that bargain.

Declan took the injector and Desire gave his head a toss, getting all the disarray of his ponytail off his shoulders and clearing up access to his neck as he tilted his head to one side. Of course, it wasn’t like he would have cared at all if his hair was in the way and got pulled at as a result—and he was pretty sure Aoba hadn’t even told anyone yet about the sensitivity of his hair—but it was a peace gesture, or something like that.

“Get back to me when that’s ‘friend with benefits’,” Desire answered with a grin, eyes raking the Guardian’s exposed body one more time—for the current encounter, anyway. “Now come on, I’m getting impatient. Restraint is his job, not mine,” he added, with a jerk of thumb towards Ren that explained little at all. “And by the way, ‘Aoba’ isn’t going to remember any of this, so be ready for him to be confused as hell. And make sure he keeps that heart thing around. I wasn’t expecting to come forward, but I think it helped. Alright?”

As naive as Declan came off, he knew what that phrase meant. Lots of Guardians had that arrangement, and while he had never heard it alongside anything regarding himself, he wasn't completely ignorant. Swallowing audibly and looking a little too lavender, the Titan cleared his throat, raised the injector with a nod in reply to the artifact, and pulled the trigger.

He waited, quiet, full bottom lip pulled between his teeth and worried at as he paid attention for signs of change. Occasionally he looked to the construct companions for any possible advice.

"I'm very confused," he eventually muttered, mostly to himself.

With the injection done so close to the source of Aoba's issues, such as they were, it was a rapid shift. Desire hummed a bit at the sensation, disappointed that it barely hurt at all, but he felt that doorway reinforced and felt complacent enough to slip back through.

Gold dulled back into hazel and Aoba nearly staggered forward into Declan, blinking back into awareness with a delayed but also newly startled, "I'd!"

"Aoba!" Ren exclaimed from the floor, darting over while Aoba came to grips with to fact that he was standing instead of being on the couch, and that his neck stung like his arm did whenever he -- oh, yes, there, that was his injector in Declan's hand.

"Wh... what's going on? Did I pass out??"

That was all he could think of to explain his sudden change in position, but... not why he was standing instead of on his back somewhere.

"Um...not exactly," Declan replied, looking guiltily at the gun in his hand before setting it on the coffee table nearby.

"Let's...sit down and talk a minute. Ren, too," Declan sighed, reaching up with one broad hand to rub at his brow wearily. The minor headache still throbbed a bit, but he wasn't as bothered by it as he was by the responsibility he felt towards Aoba and the situation at hand.

At mention of the Allmate, Aoba looked down at him, and Ren in turn put his ears slightly backwards.

“…It would be hard for me to explain alone what just happened,” the little dog answered slowly, “But I agree that it needs to be discussed.”

“What…?” It was more an expression of bewilderment than a solid question, but glancing between everyone’s faces—Ghost included—was enough to confirm to Aoba that something bizarre had happened. He backed up to the couch and slowly sat down, unsure of what to brace himself for.

Ren immediately hopped up onto the couch with him, into his lap and curling up against his stomach. Aoba’s hands immediately found his fur for comfort, while Ren himself gathered his thoughts. Although he’d interjected very little while everything was going on, Aoba felt like his responsibility to him as well.

“I am not sure how else to describe it, Aoba, except to say that you appear to have an alternate personality that we were previously unaware of.”

“Alternate…personality?”

“Yes. One that apparently was kept from manifesting due to the medicines Tae had you take.”

“…You mean my headache medicine??” Aoba stared at the injector on the table, at Ren, then up to Declan. “What happened!?”

Declan let them have the first moment, walking over and getting two mugs of hot tea from the replicator, taking the fast route. Returning to the couch and sitting gingerly, he pressed one cup gently into Aoba's hand, pale eyes watchful, concerned, but not unkind in any way. Not judging.

"I'm...not articulate enough," Declan sighed with a small frown, apologetic. "There's another part of you that I guess was too much, and your Grandmother gave you medicine to suppress it."

"Precisely that, from what I can extrapolate from what was said," Ghost reaffirmed, drifting halfway across the room then back, then off again, similar to pacing.

"They refer to themselves as a separate entity, almost. A part of yourself shut off so completely that it manifested as it's own consciousness. I don't know if it's reactionary, caused by being blockaded unnaturally, or if it's a defense mechanism due to trauma, or something else entirely. Unfortunately I'm not well-versed enough in Golden Age psychotherapy to offer a more definitive answer, but I'll go through the Guardian archives to see if there's anything."

"Aoba," Declan spoke up before emotions could get too high. "It's okay. Nothing bad happened. It was just different."

Declan had the right of it. Aoba gave a startled little jolt when ‘called’, perhaps not on the verge of a total freak-out, but definitely sitting there with a wideness to his eyes as he struggled to comprehend what he was being told. That injector of his looked so out of place among all the artifacts and souvenirs Declan had brought home for him, he thought in distraction. But he had to admit, there was definitely a weird little gap between sitting on the couch and—finding himself standing, freshly dosed by Declan’s aid.

A separate entity. An alternate personality. Aoba had been taking his medicine ever since the wilder years of him being a teenager, or something like that, but…an alternate personality?? Had Granny really been aware of that, or had she only been treating the headaches as they were? But then again, if there was some weird side effect to it like that, it would explain why normal painkillers had never worked for him….

Why wouldn’t she have told him?

“Different? Different how?”

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject