[There's no response for a few minutes. Because Tyler is just raging, and kicking over a trash can IRL and then getting in trouble for it and having to clean it up.
He's still mad when he gets back.]
Are you fucking serious, I have work tomorrow and it's a fucking two-week hike back to Goldenrod!!
Yeah, no, we'll get it taken care of. Even if you work in data, Jack's in your chain of command. He'll make it so you don't get in trouble.
And. It's not *quite* as bad as all that. If you go down Route 38, you'll hit Ecruteak in three days and then you can do a warp to Goldenrod. Get something to ride on from the farm--it's P5000 or so? hopefully with bonus and stipend that's enough?--and that can cut your time down by about a third.
You've got your 'company card,' right? Bring something back for quota and just expense everything as traveling costs.
Yeah, I've got my card. [He's gonna charge Team Rocket out the ass for this shit.] I'm crossing two routes and a city to get there, I'll get them three. Keep them off my ass twice over, cover my bases sort of bullshit.
I'm actually pretty close to Olivine, aren't I? I might as well stop in there for the night, register with the warp there. Because why the fuck not.
[The next text comes about a minute later.]
You're teaching me how to use the shit you gave me when I get back.
Why the fuck not indeed? I think it's something like six or seven days from Moomoo Farms to Olivine? So that's about four if you're mounted, although then you still have to come back the way you came since the farm itself doesn't have a warp. So. Hm. I *think* it might be faster to go to Ecruteak first (two days if mounted), then back to the farm (another two days), then from the farm to Olivine (four days) than it would be to go to Olivine (four days) and back (another four days) then to Ecruteak (two) though, despite how backwards that sounds, because you can just warp back to Goldenrod once you've got everything registered.
And yes I am very *much* teaching you how to use that shit. You are *definitely* going to need it.
[It's a very uneventful eight days of travel, at least. Tyler texts Steven on and off for some random conversations and a few photos of Pokemon he's seen, or caught (the Hawlucha, however, remains an undocumented surprise until he gets back), but eventually he's finally back in Goldenrod; and luckily he stayed in a relatively decent hotel the night before, so he got a decent night's rest, before he comes back to dump the Pokemon he doesn't care about with the Rockets, and find Steven again.]
Come to Jack's, the text had said. You'll need a safe place for this if it's your first time, because we don't know how you'll react under the influence and fuck knows the dorms don't have *real* privacy. And even if you're a grunt you're *not* a mook, so. It's cool if I invite you over. Bring the ball and maybe an overnight bag, in case you have to sleep this off.
That was then. Now is Steven's long fingers deftly rolling a joint for them, before setting it down to text, We're not going to do this exactly how Jack did it first with me. You wouldn't appreciate being shotgunned. But I'll show you how to do it and pass it onto you.
Don't be like Bill Clinton. *Do* inhale.
He lights the joint and takes the first drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs, then passes it to Tyler.
He's more nervous than he'd like to admit about this - honestly, he feels like he's more anxious about this than he was about killing his boyfriend's doppelganger, is that fucked up or what - but he has an excellently stoic face about it, as he reads Steven's text, before watching him carefully. He makes it look so easy.
He nods, as Steven passes the blunt, and there's a moment's genuine hesitation before he finally puts it between his lips and takes a deep, slow breath.
And then starts coughing, because he gagged and panicked, making Isis jump off his shoulder in surprise.
The coughing passes quickly, at least, but he can feel a bit of colour burning his cheeks.
He glances down at his gear to read the text; then nods, looking a bit more determined this time. Now it's a challenge.
At least now he's fucked it up once, so he's less nervous when he takes the second attempt; so he doesn't cough when he feels the smoke enter his lungs properly, even if it still tickles a bit.
Better, Steven texts, approvingly, even as he plucks the joint from Tyler's fingers and takes another pull on it.
I hated my first couple days in your room, he texts. The fucker with the other bed hadn't left on assignment yet and he was such an *ass* about needing total darkness to sleep, as if he couldn't have just bought an eye mask.
He's a *mook*, Steven texts back one-handedly, passing the joint back. I've made the executive decision that they're fair prey for my spite, whether or *not* I'm high.
Steven looks thoughtfully back at Tyler for a long moment, before nodding a little to himself, as if he's made a decision. He takes another pull on the joint, then texts,
I suppose it must be if you're not used to it.
He adds, a moment later, If you really want them to mean something you can always just look for reasons to get invested in them which is what I always used to do all the damn time.
That said there really is something to be said about what a goddamn relief it can be just to disinvest completely.
"Oh Tyler," he says softly, under his breath, out loud--and if Tyler isn't looking to see his lips move, he might not even know Steven said anything.
Well yes of course you would have had to wouldn't you?
Caring what happens to your *own* people is just as natural as not caring what happens to the people who *aren't* your own.
But most people aren't really aware that they don't really care because they've convinced themselves that they do even though it's a very rare and special person who can truly care about other people in the abstract.
Even though most people really are just faking it until they make it and doing so well they don't realize they're liars too.
There's a lot here to dissect. And right now he's not sure how.
Oh don't worry, I never really cared about people to begin with. Remember the part where I spent my whole life with people acting like I'm an idiot or an underdeveloped CHILD. The only people I ever cared about were my family, my boyfriend and the friends he introduced me to.
So like. It's not hard for me to not give a shit about random people I've never met. It's really not. I know for a fact that I don't give a shit when they die now.
It's not like causing a car accident didn't have collateral damage. But he'd been so caught up in trying to kill Nick's Fetch that he hadn't cared. He takes the joint back from Steven then and takes another puff.
I don't care if people lie. Everyone's an asshole anyway so why should I care what they say?
And as he exhales, blowing the remnants of smoke back out, he mutters something quietly under his breath, quiet enough that Steven might not catch the words - especially since it's not in English.
He doesn't. He's too busy reading over Tyler's text.
Steven Durante smiles.
It matters to me if they're all liars too but admittedly that's only because it means that I've been spending my entire life trying to pretend to be something that doesn't exist in nature and doesn't come naturally to me
I almost said for nothing but I suppose the polite fictions of society are reason enough I guess but at least I wouldn't have felt vaguely bad I had to lie to do it
He plucks the joint from Tyler's fingers and takes another pull from it.
But honestly I'm sure you don't care about my damage and I mostly care about yours as a way to gauge who I should be with you anyway
Tyler takes his gear, and the joint back from Steven, so he can lean back on the couch and read the next message. And holds the roll-up between his lips while he types with both hands. It's worth noting that his typing speed had slowed significantly since he started smoking.
I only care about yours in how you keep trying to make it my problem. With all the acting like I'm your sister or some shit. I don't have a very high capacity to give a shit about people anymore when I can just kill them without them ever realising it was me. It's a fucking
He pauses mid text with a light frown, passes the joint back to Steven and glances away so he can toy vaguely with his hands, trying to find the right word in his sign. And when that fails, he mutters under his breath again; that seems to do the trick, as he gives a slight nod at that.
tragedy. Like we're SUPPOSED to care about people and now I just can't. At all. I hate it.
If it makes you feel any better I don't think I'm going to be able to mistake you for Charley very much longer even when stoned to the gills given everything we've learned through this
Also I would say from long experience that with a lot of sustained effort you CAN still trick yourself into caring about people or at least faking it until you make it but it's fucking exhausting and stressful and honestly it is FINE if you never care about people again
Like seriously feel free to not care about people around me because it's a fucking relief to not have to care either
And he just looks at Tyler, with the same studied, thoughtful expression as before, and takes a long pull on the joint.
He looks faintly annoyed in the face of Steven's scrutiny. Or rather, he's giving his phone an annoyed look, and hasn't actually noticed Steven staring.
I don't WANT to not care about people. Like at least I had people I used to care about before, but now I can't even pretend to like my family. He scowls as he types. Especially since they took that fucking fake in and let it be happy there while I was suffering in hell. It got to have a boyfriend and a meaningful existence, while I spent every goddamn hour I can remember writing stories to make mine fuck his best friend and murder my ex in the most brutal ways I can fucking think of.
Yeah okay shit I didn't realize when you said you can't care about anyone you literally mean ANYONE now no exceptions
I don't know if I even HAVE any good advice for THAT given my OWN innate apathy has always had one or two exceptions
Like I'm not even sure if faking it until you make it will work in this case though you can certainly TRY to just don't be too disappointed if it doesn't work
Also shit you win the prize for worst Durance all I had was darkness and isolation and El Pecador making me into the predator I'd promised myself I'd never become except I guess I would have inevitably but at least it would have been on my OWN terms and
RIGHT sorry you don't care I am going to do my best now NOT to keep accidentally reminding you about how much you don't care by giving you things not to care about it's the least I can do as a common fucking courtesy to you
That and look for things for us to do where our respective similar deficiencies will be assets which as common fucking criminals in the goddamn Pokemon mafia shouldn't be all that hard
Tyler just mutters something disparaging, loud enough this time that Steven will definitely be able to catch it; or at least, the sardonic tone. The language isn't anything on Earth - but it's still horribly familiar.
I was never like you before my Durance, I actually did genuinely care about people. Lots of them. I had so many little siblings I had to look after, I fucking loved them. I had a huge extended family, I had a boyfriend and friends that I LIKED. I've been out of the hedge for four months, I've killed two people and I thought
He pauses there (hits send, by accident), and leans over to take the joint back again so he can do a quick hit before he continues.
I don't know, I thought that maybe getting rid of them would get me something back that I lost. All it did was make me realise that I didn't CARE about anyone who showed up at that fucking funeral. And when they saw my dead Fetch, I didn't care about them screaming about it. I was only worried about not getting caught.
Steven thinks about just-- not being able to care about Charley anymore. Or his parents or the rest of his extended family. His handful of actual friends from Before. He shivers. It's. Fuck. It's awful. He needs another hit.
He hates how familiar Tyler's words are.
He takes the joint back from Tyler.
I mean I'm not a COMPLETE sociopath or anything I DO care about my family and I can love people or at least I think I can but I have to get hella fucking invested in someone before I start to give a real shit at all about them so I spent my entire goddamn life before my Durance doing everything I could to make sure I would make those investments as many as I can out of sheer stubborn principle to maximize the number of people who'd be safe from me if I cracked
Because without putting in that goddamn investment everyone is nothing to me even people I've known for years hell most of the people I've fucked have been nothing to me just another warm body who wants what I want for an hour and when they're gone they're still just nothing
But god all that investment shit is exhausting and I think whatever I lost in El Pecador's basement is whatever DROVE me to fight back so hard because I hate to say it but I don't see the point to it anymore when once upon a time it was the most important goddamn thing just to fight back for the sake of fighting back and all those principles I had set for myself based on what people I knew with working morals believed don't really mean anything anymore either and I KNOW they did once I do
Fuck it used to bother me so much that I don't see the point to them anymore I just fucking did everything the Winter Court told me because at least someone was telling me what I had to do but it was just inertia you know there wasn't a POINT to going along with them it was just easier than not going along with them
I think maybe the things we lose from our Durances just don't ever come back and that's a fucking depressing thing to think about but the point is I guess if we know they aren't coming back then we just have to accept that
I have to accept that I don't see the point in protecting the world from me or adhering to any second-hand principles I might have had once and you have to accept that you just don't give a shit about people anymore at all
He stares at the message for a while. Not just because it's long and thus a bit difficult to parse while he is definitely now high; he's only focusing on the last three paragraphs.
He just. Hates what they're saying.
You say accepting it like it's easy to just. Reconcile the fact that anyone I ever used to care about means less than nothing to me now. I escaped with one of my friends and I just. I can't bring myself to care that she's freaking out about being replaced. I tried and I TRIED to give her a shoulder to cry on but it never felt REAL.
He leans forward to prop his elbows on his thighs, lifts a hand to run his fingers through his hair, tightening his grip until his entire body tenses, his knuckles are white and his scalp stings like he's trying to punish himself for not caring. He takes the blunt back and it's looking very sorry as he puts it between his lips for another puff, and holds the smoke in there as he types again.
Why do you think I went after my boyfriend's Fetch to begin with. I thought maybe if I found It I'd FEEL something for Him again, and I got angry but it was wrong, it wasn't angry that I missed him, it was angry that It got to be happy and *I* didn't. So I thought maybe if MY Fetch feels something I might too. You know? So I made It walk into oncoming traffic and - Tyler's shoulders hitch slightly, and a faint noise escapes him - that might be recognisable as a sardonic little snigger - the guy that hit It was going so fast he swerved and T-boned a street light. I was there to watch the whole thing to make sure it went off without a hitch and I just didn't CARE. Not that I killed some random innocent person, or that I killed someone who looks just like my boyfriend, there was just.
Nothing.
So I went to the funeral and I could FEEL all of my family's emotions, everyone was so fucking sad and angry and they all cared SO MUCH and I DIDN'T. Even when my own Fetch saw me and tried to lay me out and I ran off and jumped over the fucking fence.
He takes out the dead stub of the blunt and flicks it onto the table, breathing out slowly.
My Fetch wasn't as fucking graceful as me. I made sure of it. It was like some tacky Christian symbolism, seeing my own fucking corpse impaled on a goddamn church fence. And like. I SAW my parents in the funeral. They looked like Nick dying almost broke them. I wonder what seeing their son did, because. I know what it's SUPPOSED to feel like, I can imagine that, I could write the most fucking tragic story about someone ELSE feeling that, but I can't fucking FEEL it for myself.
Jesus Christ. I killed my parents' son and I didn't feel a thing.
He lifts one hand and pinches the bridge of his nose. He knows he should be crying and he isn't. He's a fucking monster.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fingersandteeth) wrote2022-02-21 05:11 pm
no subject
He's still mad when he gets back.]
Are you fucking serious, I have work tomorrow and it's a fucking two-week hike back to Goldenrod!!
no subject
And. It's not *quite* as bad as all that. If you go down Route 38, you'll hit Ecruteak in three days and then you can do a warp to Goldenrod. Get something to ride on from the farm--it's P5000 or so? hopefully with bonus and stipend that's enough?--and that can cut your time down by about a third.
You've got your 'company card,' right? Bring something back for quota and just expense everything as traveling costs.
no subject
I'm actually pretty close to Olivine, aren't I? I might as well stop in there for the night, register with the warp there. Because why the fuck not.
[The next text comes about a minute later.]
You're teaching me how to use the shit you gave me when I get back.
no subject
And yes I am very *much* teaching you how to use that shit. You are *definitely* going to need it.
feel free to switch to prose whenever
Ugh. Fine. Ecruteak to Olivine and back it is.
[It's a very uneventful eight days of travel, at least. Tyler texts Steven on and off for some random conversations and a few photos of Pokemon he's seen, or caught (the Hawlucha, however, remains an undocumented surprise until he gets back), but eventually he's finally back in Goldenrod; and luckily he stayed in a relatively decent hotel the night before, so he got a decent night's rest, before he comes back to dump the Pokemon he doesn't care about with the Rockets, and find Steven again.]
an hour or two after armin's pokeshaming...
That was then. Now is Steven's long fingers deftly rolling a joint for them, before setting it down to text, We're not going to do this exactly how Jack did it first with me. You wouldn't appreciate being shotgunned. But I'll show you how to do it and pass it onto you.
Don't be like Bill Clinton. *Do* inhale.
He lights the joint and takes the first drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs, then passes it to Tyler.
no subject
He nods, as Steven passes the blunt, and there's a moment's genuine hesitation before he finally puts it between his lips and takes a deep, slow breath.
And then starts coughing, because he gagged and panicked, making Isis jump off his shoulder in surprise.
no subject
It's very hard not to make a joke about knowing where Tyler's towel is.
no subject
He glances down at his gear to read the text; then nods, looking a bit more determined this time. Now it's a challenge.
At least now he's fucked it up once, so he's less nervous when he takes the second attempt; so he doesn't cough when he feels the smoke enter his lungs properly, even if it still tickles a bit.
no subject
I hated my first couple days in your room, he texts. The fucker with the other bed hadn't left on assignment yet and he was such an *ass* about needing total darkness to sleep, as if he couldn't have just bought an eye mask.
no subject
He's honestly kind of curious if he'll be like that. He's got no idea whatsoever what to expect, or even what this is meant to feel like.
no subject
no subject
I mean, I guess so. It's just. Weird, I guess. To think about how LITTLE everyone means here.
He passes it back when he hits send.
no subject
I suppose it must be if you're not used to it.
He adds, a moment later, If you really want them to mean something you can always just look for reasons to get invested in them which is what I always used to do all the damn time.
That said there really is something to be said about what a goddamn relief it can be just to disinvest completely.
He studies Tyler's face, waiting for a reaction.
no subject
I am so good at disinvesting, don't worry. I had to disinvest in my fucking boyfriend for a few years so I'd stop feeling bad about killing him.
Instead he'd started resenting him. He's thinking about that, rather than focusing on maybe not spilling that shit, when he hits send.
no subject
Well yes of course you would have had to wouldn't you?
Caring what happens to your *own* people is just as natural as not caring what happens to the people who *aren't* your own.
But most people aren't really aware that they don't really care because they've convinced themselves that they do even though it's a very rare and special person who can truly care about other people in the abstract.
Even though most people really are just faking it until they make it and doing so well they don't realize they're liars too.
Dr House was right everybody lies.
no subject
Oh don't worry, I never really cared about people to begin with. Remember the part where I spent my whole life with people acting like I'm an idiot or an underdeveloped CHILD. The only people I ever cared about were my family, my boyfriend and the friends he introduced me to.
So like. It's not hard for me to not give a shit about random people I've never met. It's really not. I know for a fact that I don't give a shit when they die now.
It's not like causing a car accident didn't have collateral damage. But he'd been so caught up in trying to kill Nick's Fetch that he hadn't cared. He takes the joint back from Steven then and takes another puff.
I don't care if people lie. Everyone's an asshole anyway so why should I care what they say?
And as he exhales, blowing the remnants of smoke back out, he mutters something quietly under his breath, quiet enough that Steven might not catch the words - especially since it's not in English.
no subject
Steven Durante smiles.
It matters to me if they're all liars too but admittedly that's only because it means that I've been spending my entire life trying to pretend to be something that doesn't exist in nature and doesn't come naturally to me
I almost said for nothing but I suppose the polite fictions of society are reason enough I guess but at least I wouldn't have felt vaguely bad I had to lie to do it
He plucks the joint from Tyler's fingers and takes another pull from it.
But honestly I'm sure you don't care about my damage and I mostly care about yours as a way to gauge who I should be with you anyway
no subject
I only care about yours in how you keep trying to make it my problem. With all the acting like I'm your sister or some shit. I don't have a very high capacity to give a shit about people anymore when I can just kill them without them ever realising it was me. It's a fucking
He pauses mid text with a light frown, passes the joint back to Steven and glances away so he can toy vaguely with his hands, trying to find the right word in his sign. And when that fails, he mutters under his breath again; that seems to do the trick, as he gives a slight nod at that.
tragedy. Like we're SUPPOSED to care about people and now I just can't. At all. I hate it.
no subject
Also I would say from long experience that with a lot of sustained effort you CAN still trick yourself into caring about people or at least faking it until you make it but it's fucking exhausting and stressful and honestly it is FINE if you never care about people again
Like seriously feel free to not care about people around me because it's a fucking relief to not have to care either
And he just looks at Tyler, with the same studied, thoughtful expression as before, and takes a long pull on the joint.
no subject
I don't WANT to not care about people. Like at least I had people I used to care about before, but now I can't even pretend to like my family. He scowls as he types. Especially since they took that fucking fake in and let it be happy there while I was suffering in hell. It got to have a boyfriend and a meaningful existence, while I spent every goddamn hour I can remember writing stories to make mine fuck his best friend and murder my ex in the most brutal ways I can fucking think of.
no subject
Yeah okay shit I didn't realize when you said you can't care about anyone you literally mean ANYONE now no exceptions
I don't know if I even HAVE any good advice for THAT given my OWN innate apathy has always had one or two exceptions
Like I'm not even sure if faking it until you make it will work in this case though you can certainly TRY to just don't be too disappointed if it doesn't work
Also shit you win the prize for worst Durance all I had was darkness and isolation and El Pecador making me into the predator I'd promised myself I'd never become except I guess I would have inevitably but at least it would have been on my OWN terms and
RIGHT sorry you don't care I am going to do my best now NOT to keep accidentally reminding you about how much you don't care by giving you things not to care about it's the least I can do as a common fucking courtesy to you
That and look for things for us to do where our respective similar deficiencies will be assets which as common fucking criminals in the goddamn Pokemon mafia shouldn't be all that hard
no subject
I was never like you before my Durance, I actually did genuinely care about people. Lots of them. I had so many little siblings I had to look after, I fucking loved them. I had a huge extended family, I had a boyfriend and friends that I LIKED. I've been out of the hedge for four months, I've killed two people and I thought
He pauses there (hits send, by accident), and leans over to take the joint back again so he can do a quick hit before he continues.
I don't know, I thought that maybe getting rid of them would get me something back that I lost. All it did was make me realise that I didn't CARE about anyone who showed up at that fucking funeral. And when they saw my dead Fetch, I didn't care about them screaming about it. I was only worried about not getting caught.
no subject
He hates how familiar Tyler's words are.
He takes the joint back from Tyler.
I mean I'm not a COMPLETE sociopath or anything I DO care about my family and I can love people or at least I think I can but I have to get hella fucking invested in someone before I start to give a real shit at all about them so I spent my entire goddamn life before my Durance doing everything I could to make sure I would make those investments as many as I can out of sheer stubborn principle to maximize the number of people who'd be safe from me if I cracked
Because without putting in that goddamn investment everyone is nothing to me even people I've known for years hell most of the people I've fucked have been nothing to me just another warm body who wants what I want for an hour and when they're gone they're still just nothing
But god all that investment shit is exhausting and I think whatever I lost in El Pecador's basement is whatever DROVE me to fight back so hard because I hate to say it but I don't see the point to it anymore when once upon a time it was the most important goddamn thing just to fight back for the sake of fighting back and all those principles I had set for myself based on what people I knew with working morals believed don't really mean anything anymore either and I KNOW they did once I do
Fuck it used to bother me so much that I don't see the point to them anymore I just fucking did everything the Winter Court told me because at least someone was telling me what I had to do but it was just inertia you know there wasn't a POINT to going along with them it was just easier than not going along with them
I think maybe the things we lose from our Durances just don't ever come back and that's a fucking depressing thing to think about but the point is I guess if we know they aren't coming back then we just have to accept that
I have to accept that I don't see the point in protecting the world from me or adhering to any second-hand principles I might have had once and you have to accept that you just don't give a shit about people anymore at all
Then fuck I don't know we move beyond it
no subject
He just. Hates what they're saying.
You say accepting it like it's easy to just. Reconcile the fact that anyone I ever used to care about means less than nothing to me now. I escaped with one of my friends and I just. I can't bring myself to care that she's freaking out about being replaced. I tried and I TRIED to give her a shoulder to cry on but it never felt REAL.
He leans forward to prop his elbows on his thighs, lifts a hand to run his fingers through his hair, tightening his grip until his entire body tenses, his knuckles are white and his scalp stings like he's trying to punish himself for not caring. He takes the blunt back and it's looking very sorry as he puts it between his lips for another puff, and holds the smoke in there as he types again.
Why do you think I went after my boyfriend's Fetch to begin with. I thought maybe if I found It I'd FEEL something for Him again, and I got angry but it was wrong, it wasn't angry that I missed him, it was angry that It got to be happy and *I* didn't. So I thought maybe if MY Fetch feels something I might too. You know? So I made It walk into oncoming traffic and - Tyler's shoulders hitch slightly, and a faint noise escapes him - that might be recognisable as a sardonic little snigger - the guy that hit It was going so fast he swerved and T-boned a street light. I was there to watch the whole thing to make sure it went off without a hitch and I just didn't CARE. Not that I killed some random innocent person, or that I killed someone who looks just like my boyfriend, there was just.
Nothing.
So I went to the funeral and I could FEEL all of my family's emotions, everyone was so fucking sad and angry and they all cared SO MUCH and I DIDN'T. Even when my own Fetch saw me and tried to lay me out and I ran off and jumped over the fucking fence.
He takes out the dead stub of the blunt and flicks it onto the table, breathing out slowly.
My Fetch wasn't as fucking graceful as me. I made sure of it. It was like some tacky Christian symbolism, seeing my own fucking corpse impaled on a goddamn church fence. And like. I SAW my parents in the funeral. They looked like Nick dying almost broke them. I wonder what seeing their son did, because. I know what it's SUPPOSED to feel like, I can imagine that, I could write the most fucking tragic story about someone ELSE feeling that, but I can't fucking FEEL it for myself.
Jesus Christ. I killed my parents' son and I didn't feel a thing.
He lifts one hand and pinches the bridge of his nose. He knows he should be crying and he isn't. He's a fucking monster.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)