bakerstreet | the intimacy meme

Entry tags:

the intimacy meme

The Intimacy Meme

Intimacy is the glue of any relationship, albeit romantic or friendship. It's getting to the root of humanity, and expanding upon ourselves and letting others in.

Rules:

1. Post with your character.

2. Go to rng and roll from 1-10.

3. Post to others.

4. Profit!!

Scenes:

1. First Kiss. Maybe you've been harboring feelings or maybe this is random. But it feels good to be that close to someone.

2. Love Confession. You have been head over heels for this person and now it's time to try and get close to them.

3. Secrets. You've been hiding yourself from someone and now it's time to stop. They need to know the real you.

4. First Time. First time you have sex is always nerve racking, but it's in these moments that you show how much you truly care about someone.

5. Shower. Perhaps you've been together for awhile. Maybe you've told each other everything. Maybe you're just dirty and need to get cleaned up. But letting the water flow between two people is still pretty intimate.

6. Post-Coital Bed. Do you feel talkative after sex? Want to ponder the meaning of life / if you guys are more than a one-night stand? Better to do it after the deed probably... at least your partner will be in a good mood?

7. Road Trip. Good for that bonding experience you never had! Bad diner food and weird landmarks you never knew you wanted to see! Will it bring you closer to your friend / lover?

8. Drunk. Are you the happy or sad kind? Clingy, or flighty? Maybe you just need a hug, to snuggle close... to whoever's around at the time!

9. Winter. What could be a better time to curl up with a book, or exchange soft words in the glow of the fire? Hot chocolate time!

10. Free verse. Did I leave something out? Want to combine? Make up your own or pick from the others.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

[ Loki had always been able to hold his liquor. Whether this was a fact of his need to be in constant control of his actions (after all, what king of liars could not effectively retain authority over the mechanisms through which he lied) or through some miracle of frost giant biology was unknown even to him, but the fact that it was very, very hard to get him even remotely tipsy was a steadfast given.

So to see the trickster now, face warmed by mead and his body slumped upon furs before the fire of the dining hall, would be quite a sight. Thankfully, the last of the revelers had cleared out nearly an hour ago, too drunken and merry to approach the mischief god even to jeer at him in his moment of insobriety. It wouldn't have been as though Loki would have minded in either case; with his eyes fixed upon the fire and his fingers to his lips, he was the very image of concentration.

If one were to ignore the way his body swayed as he regarded the fire, anyway. ]

[ Thor, by contrast, makes little attempt to hold his liquor, which usually has the perverse effect of leaving him with more control over his faculties than many; he's had lots of practice, after all. He's as full of mead and food as the rest of them when he finds Loki in the great hall before the fire after the feasting has died down, but he can see at a glance that his brother is far more drunk than he. Perhaps he'll need to throw him over a shoulder later and carry him to bed, a not displeasing thought, but for now Thor sits down with him upon the furs and bumps him companionably with a shoulder. ]

You are well, brother? It was a good feast, was it not?

[ Things are hardly the same in Asgard, or between them, since before betrayals and battles, before the revelation of Loki's ancestry and the war on Midgard and bringing Loki back to Asgard as a prisoner. But if things are not the same at least they are no longer at their worst. It does him good to see his brother in the feast hall rather than in a prison cell, and Thor keeps a close eye on him. ]

Brother. [ Loki's acknowledgement is slurred at the edges, the collision of his syllables into one another barely noticeable save for the thickness in his voice. He sends Thor a crooked grin, one bordering on a goofiness that may or may not be feigned. He had never been a touchy-feely sort, and while he wasn't keen on revisiting their childhood days (were such a thing even possible), the mead certainly brought a bit of the camaraderie that had been lost between him and Thor back. It was troublesome, to be sure, but Loki was willing to ride the wave; things seemed fuzzy from his position before the fire, and fuzzy wasn't such a bad thing to be. ]

Indeed. The sweetmeats were well-cooked, and the Lady Sif looked positively ravishing tonight. Her raven locks suit her, if I do say so myself. [ Distasteful as it was, Loki gave a light chuckle at his own joke, turning his gaze away from Thor. The debacle with Sif's hair was not one readily forgotten within the halls of Asgard, and even now, Loki brought his fingers to his lips unconsciously, as if tracing invisible twine and needlepoints of entry. ]

But I suppose that I digress. What brings you here, oh brother of mine? Come to be my... my keeper? [ Turning his eyes to Thor once again, Loki's mouth twitches into a grin. ] Afraid I may sic a few snakes upon some unwitting guardsman? Or that I may-- [ He turned and slumped forward, catching himself upon his hands on all fours before looking up at his brother again. ] --Attempt to commit genocide of some sort? Or claim a throne that was rightfully mine all along?

[ Oh, this is alarming. Thor only stares, at least for a moment or two before catching himself, and then he curves a hand around the nape of Loki's neck and brings their faces close, then reaches the same arm around his shoulders. ]

Come to carry you to bed, if need be. [ But yes, he is his brother's keeper even if no one speaks the words aloud, and has been since bringing him back to Asgard. It's no surprise that Loki has noticed. ] Which I am beginning to think likely. How much did you drink, Loki?

[He chooses to ignore those comments about snakes and thrones and genocide. Instead Thor cups Loki's face and turns it towards him, gripping his chin, and then brushing a few errant dark strands off his forehead with calloused fingers, noting the flush in his pale skin, the glitter of his eyes. ] Come, brother, will you let me take you to your room? You are becoming maudlin.

How valiant of you, brother. [ Though Loki all but hisses the word, the look with which he regards Thor is one of mild amusement. ] I must admit, having you carry me off like one of your conquests into the night is rather thrilling. [ Good-natured as Loki's ribbing may seem, a darkness enters his tone as Thor sets about tidying him up. Loki's own hands reach up to tangle within his brother's hair, mussing it in a way that only the god of mischief can, responding to Thor's attempts at restoring orderliness with a bit of his own errant destruction in the form of hair dishevelment. ]

Would you have me take the form of a comely lass? [ Loki's voice dips low and breathy, his eyelids lowering. ] Perhaps I should wear the face of our dear Lady Sif, to lend credibility to your gathering me up in your big, strong arms? [ At this, Loki laughs, soft and uneven, the hands in Thor's hair grasping the taller god for balance. ]

[ Thor sighs inwardly as Loki's fingers dishevel his own hair; he smooths back another dark strand and then lets his touch fall away. ]

The lady Sif would no more let me carry her to bed than she would let herself be bundled into skirts. That was a poor example, brother. [ He puts his arm around Loki's waist to pull him upright, keeping a steadying hand wrapped around his elbow once they are both standing; he doesn't trust his brother to keep his own feet. ] And I needn't bear you in my arms like a maiden. You can lean on me as we walk.

[ He tries to keep worry from his voice. There's a gleam in Loki's eyes that he dislikes, vivid and dangerous. He's seen it there before, and it makes him more anxious than ever to get him to the privacy of his room. ]

No, but I was simply trying to appeal to your tastes. I would have you be desirous of me if you were to take me to your bedchambers. [ Loki's nails lightly slide against Thor's scalp as he continues to muss with the storm god's hair long after his hand falls away, and the crooked grin on Loki's face never once fades. Their sudden shift in position is the only thing that prompts one of Loki's hands to drop in order for him to facilitate Thor's propping him up. The trickster leans against Thor then, pliant and warm, his feet no more than stumbling blocks heavy with mead. ]

Your concern for me is positively charming, brother. [ Loki's voice lowers once more to the devious purr so characteristic of the chaos god. ] What is it that troubles you, exactly? [ And he stumbles slightly before steadying himself, a snicker erupting from his lips in a short burst. ] This would be the perfect opportunity for you to lock me up and throw away the key, you know. I am in no position to stop you. [ Loki's voice is a hissing murmur as he turns his head to look to his brother, his face a visage of that same vivid danger that Thor had taken notice of. ]

I am not taking you to my bedchamber, I am taking you to yours. [ Thor holds him, keeps him close with an arm around his waist, his brother's weight nothing; he is small and slender in his arms, like a shadow apt to slip away. His arm tightens after Loki stumbles, hitching him against the solid frame of his own body. ] Be still, Loki. You are very drunk.

[ What troubles him? What doesn't trouble him? His brother is here--his brother is free, at least in the sense of being unchained--but he is not well, and Thor has known it since the day he has brought him home: has watched him very closely. But behaving is not healing, and he can see in Loki's eyes those threads of darkness, of madness, that still lurk. All the more now with his brother unrestrained by drink. ]

Do you think of me as your jailer, Loki? [ He cannot keep his unhappiness out of his voice. Thor sighs, and lifts his brother into his arms after all to carry him out of the hall, without waiting for his answer. ]

I suppose that if we are to soil anyone's sheets, they should be my own, hmm? [ Loki presses his full weight against Thor's, the hand in his brother's hair falling in order to rest upon the back of his neck. His fingers lightly scratch nonsense symbols against the skin he finds there, amusement eking into his voice once more. ] No, am I really?

[ The madness had, indeed, always been there, and it was clear that it wouldn't go away. Loki knew how to behave and how to fake most anything save for his ambition and insanity (though he made a very, very good go at concealing both when he needed to), and he was certain that there was none more aware of this fact than Thor. Loki was not reformed in the least, and he likely never would be. Caging an animal would not quash its bad behavior unless it was broken, and Loki remained unbowed and, worse, willing to exploit the hope and affection that his "family" still held for him.

As far as any of the other Aesir (and Loki himself, honestly) were concerned, the trickster was beyond redemption. He was not worthy of forgiveness nor compassion, and that suited him just fine. ]

Isn't that what you are, brother? [ Loki does not protest when Thor hoists him up; he can better see his brother's face from this position. Reaching a hand up, Loki palms the side of Thor's face, his thumb smoothing over the stubble upon his cheek. ] The hero, the golden one? The one that keeps the bogeymen and villains like me at bay? [ The grin on Loki's face turns dark as he speaks, and he allows the contempt he feels to color his tone. ]

Enough, Loki. [ His voice is stony. He doesn't pull away from the touch, the hand to his cheek, but he doesn't lean to it, melt to it, the way he might have once when they were younger, before his kingship and Loki's ancestry and all the rest of the nine worlds came between them. ] Keep quiet until we are in your room; I would not have you overheard.

[ For Loki's sake, not anyone else. Thor knows very well how most of the Aesir regard him. If not for their father, if not for Thor himself, perhaps he would have been put to death to satisfy the justice of Asgard; better a dead prince than a mad trickster, but Thor refuses to lose hope, Thor refuses to believe that the darkness cannot be defeated and the great wounds within his brother healed.

He carries Loki to his own bedchamber, as promised. At least it is empty, private and silent; even guards were eventually banished. All that remains now are the layers and layers of enchantments, to hold Loki's power in thrall; he is permitted small magicks, little more than that. In the hearth the fire has died to embers, glowing orange in the dark room. Thor hefts Loki onto the mattress, smoothing a hand over his brow--he cannot help such gestures, small and tender and utterly, utterly revealing--before going to work his boots off of his feet. ]

Will you sleep now?

[ Loki's hand slips from Thor's face when he speaks, complying to his orders. Loki took very little issue with anyone hearing their discourse; after all, it wasn't as if he was spouting information that the Aesir hadn't, at the very least, thought of before. His treachery and deceit were well-known throughout the nine realms. What was the use of posturing and propriety in the face of that?

Loki chuckled at the very thought. Was he really wondering why people hid beneath such carefully constructed facades? He, the king of lies?

As they enter his room, his body suddenly feels that much heavier; the room is the source of his bound power, and to find himself directly beneath such powerful magics, coupled with the influence of the mead he'd consumed, left him feeling wearier than ever. As Thor sets him on the bed, Loki sits up on his elbows even as his brother sets about mothering him. ]

If you will stay. [ Even while drunk, he knows exactly which tone of voice to use to beseech Thor: colored slightly with desperation as well as with a dash of longing. Whether Thor will continue to bend to the same tone remains to be seen, but Loki is spurred on by the alcohol coursing through his system as he places one hand upon Thor's and the other to rest upon the flat of his chest. Though Loki's expression may have reflected the intonation he had so masterfully affected, the inebriated flush of his cheeks all but seemed to glow in the minimal lighting of his chambers. ]

Edited (what is grammar i don't know) 2012-05-08 00:13 (UTC)

[ One boot on the floor, and Thor's hand around Loki's ankle when he speaks, making him pause in the midst of undoing straps to look at him. If you will stay. Such simple, effective words. And then they are coupled with his brother's hand on his hand, his brother's hand on his chest, and Thor swallows, and looks back down to draw off the second boot, letting that fall over the side of the bed as well. He sits heavily on the edges of the mattress. ]

If you wish it.

[ Loki is drunk, but Loki is still clever. Thor braces his own hands on his knees, resolutely averting his gaze from his brother's face, his flushed skin and beseeching eyes, for if he looks at him too long he knows he will be endeared to anything his brother might wish of him--it has happened before. Even knowing it, it's a strain to care what Loki may want or may try to trick him into: staying the night? He's already agreed to that. Letting him free? Thor can't, he knows a world's worth less than Loki does of breaking enchantments. He does look at him after a few moments, resting a gentle hand on Loki's knee. The room is dark and glowing and in the red light his brother looks fevered, his eyes luminous and glittering. ]

Would you have me hold you? [ As he did when they were boys, sharing the same bed. Protecting his brother even in sleep, sheltering him from dreams. ]

[ Loki can feel Thor's heartbeat beneath his hand, strong and steady, much like everything else about the storm god. With his boots removed, Loki draws nearer to his brother, his hands repositioning themselves to rest upon Thor's leg and shoulder. He grins that same crooked grin of his, fingers curling against the fabric of Thor's trousers. ] Would I have asked if I did not?

[ Ever clever and ever cunning, Loki treats Thor's hand upon his knee as an invitation to sidle closer to him until he is flush against the heat he seems to radiate. Loki himself feels warmer than usual, likely due to the amount of drink he had consumed previously, and it emboldens him. ] If you would deem me worth holding.

[ The statement is somewhat of a challenge, softened by the slight slur of his words and the way Loki's hand palms against Thor's thigh, roving back and forth in a maddening, teasing fashion. ]

[ Loki's hands against him make his skin prickle. He watches his clever, clever brother draw closer to him, pressing against him, Thor's arm sliding around his waist as though by its own volition, and when Loki is flush against him he lowers his head to press their foreheads together, his eyes closing. ]

You are worth more than that, brother.

[ The longing in his own voice is undisguised. What does it matter, Loki is just as likely not to remember a moment of this when the morning comes. And if he does, no doubt he will treat it as a game like all else. The hand on his thigh rubs and insinuates; Thor bears it for a time, his jaw shifting, and then catches Loki's hand to pull it away. He turns and climbs fully onto the mattress, nudging Loki over to make room for himself, stretches out on the bed and pulls his brother into his arms, bringing his head to his just. One of Thor's hands moves down his spine, slow and caressing, to the small of his back. ]

Sleep now. [ He doubts he will manage it himself, with his brother pressed full-length against him, but one of them ought to have some rest. ]

[ Loki is more than painfully aware of the longing that tinges Thor's voice, and he leans his forehead into his brother's, content in the victory he has claimed. Though the storm god's eyes are closed, Loki keeps his wide open, studying Thor's features from his newfound position. ]

Oh? I'm not entirely sure what you're getting at.

[ Thor is right in the assumption that Loki will treat his longing as a game, even as the tide shifts and he finds himself laying down, warm against Thor's chest. With a low hum of contentment, Loki allows himself to simply be held for a few moments, reveling in the way his brother's hand smooths along his back. The trickster doesn't allow the peace to last, however, as he suddenly pushes his weight against Thor's, coming astride his hips and pinning him down, his elbows supporting his weight as he hovers over the god of thunder. ]

Elaborate, brother. [ Again, that dangerous glint enters Loki's eye as he speaks. ] Elaborate, so that I may know exactly what I am worth to you.

[ Loki is not pinning him, Loki could not pin him if Thor did not allow it, not without his arts to avail him, and Thor--being in little mood to play games--thinks of pushing him aside, but he is in even less of a fighting mood than he is a gaming one, and Loki is no fit opponent these days, anyway. Not with his power so tightly controlled.

His own eyes smolder as he stares up at Loki. His brother's weight on him is nothing, as teasing and insinuating as a feather-touch. ]

Why do you ask such questions? [ His voice is a rumble, a warning. His hand stays caught at Loki's waist. ] How am I to answer you?

[ What has it any of this been worth? Thor does not know, but he knows what he has given up for the sake of saving Loki. He knows what he would give. ]

You are my brother. There is nothing more to say of worth.

[ Loki is more than aware of the false sense of security his position puts him in; his weight really is nothing in comparison to Thor's, and shoving him aside would take little to no effort on his brother's part. The fact that Thor doesn't is something that Loki relishes, and the smolder in Thor's eyes exists as little more than a challenge to the trickster. With his powers wrested from him and his existence under constant scrutiny, Loki is more than shamed. If he were to be completely and utterly honest with himself, as much as he would have rather died on Midgard, he knows he deserves any punishment the Aesir dole out. Fight it outwardly as he does, it does not change the fact that some part of him feels that he is beyond redemption, and that is precisely what drove him through his mad schemes time and time again.

It is only through toying with Thor in this way that Loki feels any semblance of control. The trickster knows that Thor will always seek to mend fences, and that is a ready weakness he is willing to exploit. ]

Truthfully. [ The word is bitter on Loki's lips, and gone is the smirk from his face. He settles his weight upon Thor's hips, sitting up in order to regard him from a higher vantage point. ] Surely you grow tired of chasing your wayward "brother" all over the creation. I ask because I know even you are not fool enough to continue pursuing a viper who does naught but bite you at every turn.

That is why I ask.

[ His hand slides from Loki's waist to his thigh when his brother sits back, and he doesn't let go; he fears to let go of his brother at the best of times, as though Loki will surely slip away if he does, as though his hands are all that hold him back from the precipice of his own madness, his misery. Sometimes listening to his brother seems apt to drive him mad himself. His hand tightens around his leg. ]

Do you truly care what your worth is to me, brother? Or do you speak so only in the hope that I will give you up as a lost cause?

[ He grasps him by the nape of the neck and drags him back down, drags him forward until their faces are so close their eyelashes nearly brush; nose to nose, mouth to mouth, and he speaks low and rumbling, with the same heat in his gaze. ]

Because I will not. I will not, Loki, no matter how you would like to convince me. You will not be permitted to leave Asgard. I will not abandon you to your misery and your schemes; you will not be alone, not while I draw breath. You may kill me if you would like to be free of me; that is your worth to me, brother.

[ Loki's eyes flicker to the hand Thor places upon his thigh, and he gives a breathy chuckle. The trickster's eyes return to his brother's as that same hand applies pressure to his leg, and he can't help but laugh, full and low, at what Thor says next. Before Loki can respond, however, Thor is quickly pulling him down by the neck, strangling a gasp from the lie-smith's lips. Recovering quickly, Loki's gaze simmers as it darts from Thor's lips to his eyes and back. ]

Such sentiment. [ Loki is sure that Thor can smell the mead on his breath at such close quarters, and he uses his own hands to to clutch at the sheets at either side of Thor's head, his fingers tangling through strands of blond hair. ] Had I wanted to leave Asgard, Thor, I assure you that I already would have. [ It is a loaded statement, one punctuated by the way Loki suddenly leans close and nips at the storm god's lower lip, taunting and treacherous. ]

[ Thor stiffens at the bite to his lip, turning his face from the taunting closeness of Loki's mouth. Sentiment, yes. He is nothing if not sentimental, but he is angry, too, tormented by Loki's nearness and every teasing, fleeting touch, by the scent of mead on his breath, by his skin flushed and feverish and utterly lovely. What he would not give to touch him, to smooth his hands over his skin and follow the trail of his fingers with his mouth. The desire for it feels as though it is leading him ever closer to some precipice from which there is no return. ]

Stop this. You are drunk and maudlin; you have no idea what you are doing, Loki.

[ But he still does not push him away. There is a guilty part of him which wants to let his brother tease and torment him however he would, for even a brush of fingers across his skin is better than Loki turning from him, refusing to allow him near--or Loki abandoning him, slipping his cage and invisible chains and falling away into the abyss again, leaving Thor behind. His hand caresses his brother's thigh. The other touches his face, fingers curving over his cheek with a tenderness at odds with the heat in his eyes. ]

[ From his position atop Thor and with his hands at either side of his head, Loki feels prematurely victorious. He can feel Thor's breath-- level and restrained despite the fire in his eyes-- against his lips, and it sends a thrill up his spine, though he shows no outward indicator of this fact. When Thor speaks, Loki laughs, his voice low and heavy. ]

I know precisely what I am doing, and the fact that you are not stopping me is telling.

[ Lowering his head, Loki allows his lips to brush against the side of Thor's neck, the trickster's hands entangling themselves in the hair at Thor's scalp. His teeth graze against skin, light and unsatisfying as he pretends as though the tenderness in Thor's eyes is lost on him. The storm god's expression is nothing short of exploitable, to be sure, but it also drives an uncomfortable wedge in his plans, one that Loki can't put a name to. ]

[ Thor sighs as his brother's lips brush his throat, his brother's teeth graze and tease. ]

Loki.

[ Just that; no more protest. To stop his brother now would be to push him aside and leave him here alone, seething in his lonely bed, and that Thor will not do. It seems that he cannot simply hold Loki close tonight and care for his hangover in the morning; that will not do, no, he must be made to bear his brother's sharp and torturous affections, teasing the edge of arousal within him until it threatens to burst into flame. Thor's fingers wind through the dark strands of Loki's hair, petting, caressing. His own touch is still tender, still gentle: demanding nothing, touching as though only for the pleasure of touch, the illusion of closeness. If only he could show his brother how he loves him--

Well, perhaps it would change nothing. Perhaps the bitterness in Loki runs too deep.

But still Thor cradles him, letting him do what he would, letting anger slip away as he pretends that love is all there is between them. ]

[ Loki hums low in response, dragging his mouth along the curve of Thor's neck, his mead-hazed mind unsure of whether he finds the storm god's lack of resistance to be amusing or infuriating. The touch of Loki's lips to skin is almost foreign at this point; while he wasn't sure of the exact amount of time that the Aesir had kept him muzzled with that damnable gag, it had been just long enough for him to find sensation upon his lips to be alien. The trickster is unafraid to revel in Thor's warmth now, impure as the enjoyment is, and he responds to Thor's hands in his hair with a light nip of approval to his earlobe.

The trickster shifts his hips, the movement deliberate enough to make him more keenly aware of the slow burn of inebriated arousal pooling in his loins. Love is the very last thing on his mind, though he had so desperately sought it in his younger days from the man beneath him. Bitterness rages within Loki like an ocean, tumultuous and abyssal, and in spite of the intimacy his lips create upon Thor's skin, there is nothing tender about the act.

Loki seeks to possess Thor, to use him for his own means, to bend and break him in ways he knows only he can. The gentleness with which Thor treats him throws a wrench in his plans and strikes a strange, sad chord in him, one that causes his fingers to curl and rake across the thunder god's scalp as his teeth cease their teasing, instead applying pressure that seeks to leave marks. ]

[ Thor shifts as Loki's teeth sink into his skin, almost punishing in their hardness. He cannot really be hurt, not like this, but it pains him that he has done something wrong again, something that has displeased his brother; Thor has always wanted, in spite of himself, to please him.

But perhaps it isn't only disapproval. He can feel Loki's drunken lust in the way he rocks hips against his, in the fingers carding through his hair, yanking the strands at the roots. Thor breathes deeply, his fingers curving over his brother's hips, and then pulls him against him, rolling his own hips up to meet the motion. He does it again, and again after that, finding a slow, rocking rhythm. Still gentle, on his part. Loki won't break him like this. Thor will take care of his brother, whether or not he wants to be taken care of. ]

[ Had Loki really and truly sought to hurt Thor, odds are that he probably would have found some creative and terrible way to do it in this compromising position, finding some foul workaround that didn't involve his bound magic. Instead, the trickster is content to attempt to make bruises bloom and blood vessels break at the surface of Thor's skin, disrupting its smoothness with something that was dark and brutal and impossibly Loki.

After all, there was nothing quite so intimate as claiming another as your own, as far as Loki was concerned.

At Thor's gentle reciprocation, Loki pulls back and removes his hands from Thor's hair to support his weight once more, his hips greeting Thor's with every roll and thrust. His eyes focus on those of the god beneath him, so light in comparison to his own, and in the dancing half-light provided from the fireplace, Loki supposes that Thor is beautiful. He had always taken the fact as given, but he had never explicitly thought it... Not often, anyway.

Grinning wryly, Loki keeps his thoughts to himself when he speaks. ] I knew you'd come around.

the intimacy meme

rng says 8!

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)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)