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jaeyleo · 1 year

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could we perhaps get puppet pink interacting alone with someone from the outside world for the first time when pseudo takes him someplace?? if that makes any sense

yesss!!! this is when chase is pretty much completely puppet pink.

tws: food, brainwashing, captive whumpee. lmk if i should add more!

. . .

"Can you stay in the car for a while?"

Pink nods at his caretaker, holding close his bowl of frozen yogurt. It's a sweet spring day, with warmth and life slowly urging its way back into the world. Pink adores the sight of it.

"I can," he smiles. "H- how long will you be away?"

"Just a few minutes," Pseudo replies. "Can you be brave? Stay in the car?"

The puppet nods. "Yes, Pseudo."

"Good. I'll be right back."

And with that, the doors lock, and Pink is by himself.

He takes a moment to look at his surroundings. Bright tulips and tree blossoms reach for the sun, aching to split open and parade their pretty colors. He can see ladybugs and bees flying about, gnats twirling in the grass. Weeds spring up from the cement, and although most would find them ugly, Pink stops to admire those, too.

He takes a bite of frozen yogurt, gazing more upon the gardens that line the houses around. He isn't sure what neighborhood he's in, or whose house Pseudo just walked into. Whoever's inside isn't very happy to see him, and Pink wonders what words she spits out at him as he backs her away from the window.

He raises the spoon for another bite-

"Hello!"

Pink startles, almost dropping the bowl entirely. A clumsy show of snatching it to and from the air lands him with frozen yogurt dripping on his fingers, lucky to have that be his only spill.

He turns to the open window, only halfway rolled down to let in the air. There is a small child standing outside, with black hair and eyes dark as dirt. He wonders what flowers grow from her irises.

"H- hello," he finally responds, wiping the frozen treat away on his pants.

"What are you doing here?" she asks him. Her eyes wander his face, his hair, as his do the same to her.

"U- um, I'm waiting for Pseudo," he says. "He'll be back soon."

"Who is Pseudo?"

Curious child. Pink turns more towards her, resisting the seatbelts pressure to pull him back. "He's my- my best friend. Takes care of me, lots. Lots, lots, lots."

She smiles, stepping closer to the car. Once she peeks inside, she spots his frozen yogurt.

"What do you have?!"

The sudden holler makes him jump, but he settles quickly.

"I- ice cream. Ice cream."

"..... Can I have some?"

Tulips in her eyes. Ladybugs and bees and blossoms. Pink remembers little voices like hers, little hands like hers, curious eyes like hers. His heart aches.

"You can have all of it," Pink whispers, handing her the bowl. He feels an odd urge to protect her. Ruffle her hair. Tell her not to stand in the street.

The little girl bursts into a smile, bouncing up and down in her excitement. "Thank you!" she exclaims, and doesn't waste a moment to take a bite.

Pink smiles, smiles. "Do you li- like it?"

Nodding, she asks the next question.

"Why does Pseudo take care of you?"

"Oh, I... I'm not... I can't do it."

"What can't you do?"

"Well.... anything, anything.."

"Why?"

Pink has to wonder. Why can't he? He can't remember. Maybe that's why.

"I don't remember how," he says, deciding it's the easiest way to explain, as long as she doesn't ask anything else.

"Why not?"

Shoot.

"Um..... u- um.... I... I don't remember why."

"Why?"

Pink sees vines growing from her mouth. Proteas from her irises, ladybugs and bees and twirling gnats inside her mind. She asks so many questions he can't keep up.

"You sh- shouldn't stand in the street, kiddo," he tells her. The word feels familiar and foreign at the same time. Kiddo, kiddo, kiddo, who was kiddo before this little girl?

"Oh, I guess you're right.."

She opens her mouth to speak again, but is cut off by a woman across the street standing at the doorway.

"Mina!" she yells. "Who are you talking to??"

The little girl giggles, giggles and giggles and shoves the frozen yogurt back at Pink's clumsy hands.

"Bye sir!"

Pink sits up, grasping desperate at the window as she skips away. "B- bye, bye kiddo..."

He sits back into the seat as he watches the door close.

"Kiddo, kiddo, kiddo," he sings. His lip quivers, and a deep, horrible ache breaks into his chest. He misses someone, two someone's, whose voices remain hushed in his mind. Blurry faces and far away touches tap at the walls of his heart, a love ingrained so deep within him he couldn't escape it if he tried. He can't remember who they are. He can't remember who they are, he can't remember who they are. He loves them, he knows them, he misses them, but he can't remember who they are.

"Kiddo, kiddo," he chirps again, staring into the empty bowl for an answer.

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whumpflash · 1 year

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cw: slavery, dehumanization, noncon strip/nudity (nonsexual), adult language, alcohol mention

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

×××

The sun was rising when they reached the slavers' camp. The journey has dampened Judd's unwanted hangover enough for him to focus, and he made an effort to determine their direction of travel.

East. Right into the fucking sun.

He angled his head to avoid the light, doing anything he could to lessen the pounding in his skull.

Fucking wine. He almost wished Skye would've just kicked his ass instead of resorting to creativity. It had been almost a whole day since he'd had any water, and the booze only served to rush the dehydration process.

Water first, he thought. Then I'll get the hell out.

The slaver camp was a lot smaller than the site Judd called home, just a few makeshift buildings and a public area protected from the sun by a tarp. There was a weapons rack, and a pile of what looked like spare speeder parts. Tools he could use to escape, or fight his way out when the time was right.

He tried to ignore the other objects in the area. Shackles. Whips. A metal pole with a length of chain welded to it, and a small rusted cage a foot away from that. Cage and manacles were both empty. He'd find no allies here, but there didn't seem to be many enemies either. Aside from the two that had snatched him, there were only a handful others, coming out of their huts or getting up from cleaning their weapons to see what their buddies had returned with.

Judd was dumped just shy of the shade, struggling to lift his head as a pair of boots came into view. They were attached to a woman, well-muscled and covered in freckles.

"Brought me back a treasure, eh?" she said, lifting his chin with the toe of her boot. He jerked away, falling back onto the cracked dirt, and wincing as the movement drove a fresh spike of pain through his head.

"Wreck was deserted by the time we got there, but this idiot made the mistake of sticking around," Rika replied.

Sticking around? Yeah, picking on the kid had been a mistake, but Judd wasn't fucking stupid.

"What do you think, Sonora?" Rika's partner said. "Good haul?"

"Should make us a pretty penny," the other woman said, approval in her voice. "Get it settled in."

It. He was already written off as an object to them, something that had no value aside from a price tag.

The pair moved to obey her, dragging Judd under the tarp and into the marginally cooler shade. His arms—by now well past aching—were freed at last from Skye's bindings. Rope was swiftly replaced with metal cuffs, each one connected to a long chain that trailed upward, wrapping around a beam that sat a few feet above his head.

Not just a beam, he saw, noticing gears on either side of it, interlocking all the way down to hip height, where a handle jutted out. Some kind of mechanism, probably designed to shorten his leash whenever they saw fit.

Clearly the group had way too much time on their fucking hands, but if nothing else, the machine told him this was their permanent base.

Good. When he got out, he'd come back here with a hoard of scavs. Burn it down.

"Let's get a look at it," Sonora said, and Rika moved to the handle, confirming his suspicions as she cranked it until the chains were taut and his arms were suspended above his head. Maybe it was procedure, maybe she'd just made up her mind to give him misery, but she didn't lock the mechanism in place until Judd's feet were barely touching the ground.

He cursed through the gag, shooting her a hateful glare that was pointedly ignored.

Sonora selected a knife from the weapons rack and closed the distance on him. He did his damnedest to jerk back as she set the blade against his chest, but she didn't cut him, instead slicing through the fabric of his shirt.

Judd let out a muffled yell of protest as she moved to his jacket, a fancy sun-reflecting thing he'd paid out the ass for. She didn't seem to care what it was, cutting it away without hesitation and discarding it at his feet.

His pants and boots followed it, but Sonora didn't stop there, slicing away in cool-eyed silence until he was stark naked.

Judd tried to reign in his pride and breathe steady through the gag. If he let the frustration, the humiliation, get to him, it would just make his headache that much worse.

Nudity didn't bother him. Water was too scarce for showering to be a private affair, and scavs were generally too pragmatic to find a lack of clothes taboo.

This was different. This was being put on display, stared at by his captors while they figured out how much he was worth.

I'll break out. Pick the locks. They'll be sorry.

"Hm," Sonora said, and he flinched as she ran a finger across his abdomen. "Strong enough for the pits, pretty enough to be a pet. What do you think?"

Rika snorted. "I think it's the highest bidder's choice."

"So it is." She stepped back, kicking away the remains of Judd's clothing. "Go ahead and let it down. Can't put it up for auction half-dead."

Rika pulled back on the lever, and the chains went slack. Judd cried out as he hit the ground, pain shooting through his knees as they took most of the impact. It was becoming more and more difficult to want to get up, but he did, pushing himself to a sitting position with a groan.

Sonora had reappeared beside him, a canteen in her hand.

Water.

She was close enough that he could probably grab her. Get her weapon, use her as a bargaining chip. But he was too thirsty to try.

She reached behind his head, untying his gag and removing it from his bone-dry mouth.

Despite the burning urge to start cussing her out, Judd held back. Drink first. He reached for the canteen, but Sonora took a quick step back.

"Ah ah. You get what I give you or you get nothing," she chided. "And I only give what is earned."

Because of fucking course she did.

"Kneel," Sonora continued. "Hands on your knees, head bowed. Show me you can be obedient."

As debasing as it was to follow her commands, Judd wasn't about to give up the water. He moved to his knees, glaring up past sweat-damp hair.

"That snarl could use some work, but we have time," Sonora said. "Good boy."

All reason fled his body at her words, his head snapping up. "The fuck did you just call me?"

Behind him, Rika let out a short laugh. "Told ya it had a mouth."

"It just needs to learn some respect," Sonora said, looking vaguely annoyed.

"My name is Judd," he spat.

"You don't have a name anymore," she replied, not flinching as he lunged forward, the chains halting his movement before he got within a foot of her. The sudden stop, combined with his bound ankles, unbalanced him, and he landed gracelessly on his side.

He saw Rika reach for a whip, but Sonora held up a hand to stop her.

"It has enough scars as is. We don't need any new marks before auction."

"My name is—" He was cut off by a boot to the gut from Rika.

"Bruises will heal," she said, in response to the stern look from Sonora, who sighed and shook her head.

"I'm sure they will. You and Bo go ahead and get some sleep. I'll take it from here."

As Rika and her partner disappeared into one of the huts, Sonora moved to the mechanism Judd was attached to, adjusting the upper bar until it was level with the ground, then reeling in the chains until he had no room to move, arms once again restrained behind him. Once that was done, she left.

Judd let his head drop, drawing his knees up to his chest. Maybe he was stupid. Letting his anger get in the way of fucking survival.

She'd be back, wouldn't she? They'd gone through the trouble of taking him, they wouldn't just let him die and miss out on their payday.

He pulled at the cuffs. Just needed to wait until Sonora tried again. He'd choke down his pride and comply. Get her to drop her guard.

It hadn't been long before she returned, still holding the canteen. She knelt in front of him, much closer now that he was locked up tight.

"Good boys get water," she said, but held the canteen to his lips anyway.

He drank so quickly he almost choked, feeling relief wash over him as the liquid ran down his throat. It wasn't until he'd drained the entire thing that he noticed the strange aftertaste.

Sickly sweet, like something on the verge of rotting.

He knew what was coming then, the kind of bullshit these people would resort to in order to keep him down. Sonora smiled at him as she capped the canteen.

"Bad boys get Compliance."

×××

tag list:

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

#whoops forgot to add tags #whump #whump writing #judd harlow #tw slavery #tw alchohol mention #tw noncon drugging #nonsexual nudity #tw violence #tw adult language #forced stripping #tw dehumanization #defiant whumpee #it as a pronoun

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the-whumper-takes-it-all · 9 months

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~ Prompt 3 ~

Munchausen By (Adult) Proxy Syndrome

Whumper loves Whumpee and to ensure that Whumpee stays with them, they secretly poison them with meds/mild poison and then take loving care of them. Will Whumpee (or Caretaker) find out about everything? Will Whumper eventually take it too far? You decide.

#whump #whump prompt #whump writing #whumper #whumpee #caretaker #munchausenbyproxy #munchausen by adult proxy

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whumperofworlds · 1 year

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CRACK WHUMP

Whumper: We have your child.

Caretaker 1: We don't have a child.

Whumper: Then who asked for warm chocolate milk and wanted the crusts of their PB&J cut off?

Caretaker 2: OH MY GOD THEY GOT WHUMPEE.

#whumpee is an adult dw #crack whump #whump humor #kidnapping #ransom #food mention #whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #multiple caretakers

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just-a-silly-little-whumper · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 7- The Way You Shake and Shiver

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

A monster puts Elze’ith out of commission. Altair has to take care of him.

Contains: Fantasy setting, monster hunting, poisoning, delirium, minor blood, minor adult language, queerplatonic whumpee/caretaker

~~~

Altair’s chest heaved. Fire danced from his fingertips; he had to be careful not to set any of the surrounding brush aflame with each burst he sent towards the monster. His pulse thrummed in his ears in time to the pounding of his feet. Elze’ith kept pace a half-step behind him, throwing up barriers in an attempt to slow the beast. Now that they had it in their sights, they couldn’t let it get away.

The monster they were hunting was built much like a panther, all lean muscle and powerful legs. The main difference lay in its scorpion-like tail, which curled over its head and dripped cerulean venom. Perhaps the large tail weighed it down, as Altair and Elze’ith were able to keep pace with it with ease.

Altair glanced back and gave a nod to Elze’ith. The other man nodded back and threw up his hands, manifesting a wall of magic right in the path of the monster. At the same moment Altair sent forward a gout of flames, and the monster yowled as its right flank burned. It collapsed snarling to the ground, its back leg charred and unusable.

“Cover me, Elze’ith,” Altair called, reaching for the dagger on his hilt. Without waiting for a response he dashed in. As always, Elze’ith’s shield apparated in front of him, slightly discoloring his vision. The monster growled and swatted at him as he approached, but its claws bounced off of Elze’ith’s barrier. Manifesting fire in his other hand further deterred the beast, and its eyes began to dart around frantically.

Several things happened in quick succession. Altair lunged forward to strike the killing blow. The monster narrowed its eyes. In the periphery of his vision, Altair saw the monster’s tail extend. From somewhere behind him, Elze’ith let out a choked gasp. Then Altair’s dagger sunk into the creature’s neck, and it thrashed for a moment before going still.

Immediately Altair let go of the dagger and whirled around, rushing to where Elze’ith was standing a few feet behind him. There was a hole in his tunic at his right shoulder. When Altair’s fingers pulled the fabric aside, he saw a puncture wound oozing blood and cerulean venom.

“That can’t be good,” Altair murmured. “But you can heal it, right, my love?”

“Right,” Elze’ith said, but his voice sounded distant. He brought a trembling hand up to his shoulder, and there was a flicker of white magic. Elze’ith frowned in concentration and flexed his fingers again, and his magic blinked once, twice, before fading entirely.

“I—I can’t—” Elze’ith was clearly alarmed, but there was a hazy overtone in his voice. He started to sway, and Altair had to grab him to steady him.

“Elze’ith, I don’t know how to heal. I can’t— I don’t know how to fix this.” The veins around the wounds were starting to take on the same cerulean color as the venom. Calm. He had to stay calm.

“Cottage— antidote—” Elze’ith murmured several more syllables that Altair couldn’t quite make out.

Then he collapsed entirely.

“No— Elze’ith? My love?” Altair guided Elze’ith to the ground, smoothing the hair out of his face. Elze’ith was unconscious but trembling minutely in Altair’s arms. Letting out a stream of cursing, Altair gathered Elze’ith up in his arms.

There was an antidote at the cottage. He could fix this. He just had to get them there.

---

It took him too long find the damned antidote.

Elze’ith’s condition had gotten worse during the arduous trip back to the little cottage they were holed up in. Now, laid out in the small bed they shared, he was shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm, drenched in sweat and breathing unsteadily. Altair had peeled off Elze’ith’s travel wear and bandaged the wound; the venom was snaking its way through the veins of Elze’ith’s chest, and Altair didn’t want to know what would happen if it reached his heart. He wasn’t sure if his partner was shaking from fever or the venom or cold or some combination thereof, so he covered Elze’ith in as many blankets as he could find and set the hearth ablaze, praying that it would be enough while he looked for the antidote.

But despite the fact that the one-room cottage they had taken over was tiny, despite the fact that there shouldn’t have been that many places to hide things, it had taken nearly an hour of searching to find the tiny bottle in question. All the while Elze’ith kept shifting and shivering on the bed, murmuring broken words in some combination of languages that Altair couldn’t parse. It had been getting to the point where Altair had been considering just feeding Elze’ith his entire medicinal drawer in the hopes that something would help before he finally found the antidote bottle hidden behind some of Elze’ith’s potion-making supplies. When Elze’ith was feeling better, they would need to have a talk about his organization.

Antidote in hand, Altair knelt at Elze’ith’s bedside and gently lifted his head. Altair’s own hands shook as he pressed the antidote to his partner’s lips and willed Elze’ith to swallow it. “I’ve got you, you’ll be alright, just take this and everything will be fine,” he murmured, hoping that what he was saying was true.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when Elze’ith took the antidote. When Elze’ith healed someone, it was painful, but wounds closed and symptoms vanished nearly instantaneously. But when he set the bottle aside and eased Elze’ith back onto the bed, there was no obvious change. His breathing was still labored. His forehead was still warm. His hand, when Altair cautiously took it in his own, was still shaking.

“Maybe it takes a while, since it’s not magical,” Altair said, mostly to reassure himself. “I’m going to get some water, and then I’ll be right back, okay, my love?”

There was no response.

For the next several hours Altair stayed kneeling at Elze’ith’s bedside, keeping a cool cloth on his head and making sure the fire was stoked. As time passed Elze’ith’s breathing grew easier and the tremors that ran up and down his body eased. When Altair peeled back the bandages to change them, the cerulean veins had receded. Worry still gnawed at him, but Elze’ith seemed to be improving.

It was past sunset when Elze’ith’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked at the ceiling several times in confusion before turning to Altair. “What happened?”

“The monster got you with its stinger. I had to bring you back to the cottage to get you the antidote. It was a bit touch-and-go for a while there, but I think the venom is out of your system, at least,” Altair said. He took Elze’ith’s hand in his own and gave it a light squeeze.

Elze’ith squeezed back, giving a drowsy smile. His grip was weak, but steady. “My hero.”

“You’re always taking care of me. I’m glad I could take care of you.” Altair smoothed damp hair out of Elze’ith’s face. “Do you need anything? I did my best, but I wasn’t sure what you needed.”

“Just—” Elze’ith’s eyes slipped closed. “Stay.”

Altair smiled softly. “I can do that.”

#whumptober2022 #no.7 #the way you shake and shiver #OC #fic #adult language #blood #whumpee/caretaker #fantasy whump #magic #Poison #delirium #flicker in the dark #altair buchannan oc #elze'ith sylrel oc #caretaking #silly writes #whump writing

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hittingthebrainsfunnybone · 1 year

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Ignition Point - Character Introduction? Featuring whump

Can skill be accumulated from the moment a child is born?

Zhu hefted his weapon and gripped it tighter than his master would have recommended. The dirt beneath them had definitely been treated to more of his blood than his opponents’ recently. But that was just all the more reason to accept this challenge.

The rough, unofficial arena Zhu now stood in had a couple dozen of his fellow students kneeling in the grass along the sides. The only thing denoting the boundary was where they had decided to sit and the stark contrast between the well-worn, scorched patch of earth that had long stopped growing grass, and the vibrance of the surrounding field. Zhu had heard that this spot was so ubiquitous because even their masters held their off-the-book spars here. No one would admit it at the main house, because this technically wasn’t allowed, but there was honor in getting to fight on this spot. It wasn’t the same hallowed ground as their dojos… but it was something. And a first step.

Zhu sensed a ripple in the crowd. They were no longer whispering about him. He turned to face whoever they were all looking at behind him. It was, of course, his opponent. Right on time, but within seconds of the given deadline.

Songyi’s expression was a guarded neutral, but to a crowd very well versed in reading the tiniest details in expressions, it was obvious he was annoyed. Annoyed by Zhu’s determination, or maybe just by his existence. Either way, this child many years younger than him had the gall to rush the process of climbing rank and displace the successes of his seniors. The will to fight to the last breath, the ferocity of an animal, and a stubborn unwillingness to surrender even an inch of ground were admirable traits in a soldier, tolerable traits in a young boy, and a hindrance in someone of higher breeding meant for bigger things. In short, Zhu was reckless and stupid, and the quicker he was irreparably disgraced, the more time he would have to rebuild himself as something else.

Zhu carefully examined the weapon Songyi selected. He sneered, making no effort to hide his feelings. Zhu had been training with bladed polearms from the very moment his master allowed him to pick one up. It wasn’t really a weapon suited to his build, so it took a lot of work to even get permission to train with one, but Zhu persisted. He had poured hours into the strength training, mastered the forms, passed his master’s tests, and now he was the best student in the compound with the particular weapon. And here came Songyi, an archery specialist, waving a spear with its puny point in lieu of challenging him on his turf.

“Songyi… since when did your spite and envy build up and overwhelm you enough to make you pick that up…? It’s unbecoming to make a crude show of technique when you’re so talented! I really don’t mind sparring open handed if it helps you save face, big brother~”

Songyi ignored Zhu’s taunts for the most part. There was no subtlety to his words and the malice shining in his eyes was scarcely hidden by his aggressively cheerful and “accommodating” tone. The older boy stepped into the ring without relinquishing the spear. “I had to pick this up, would you really accept the loss any other way?” His question was uncharacteristically honest, but his voice was laced with more pity than cruelty. Songyi’s presence even translated to the audience. A few of them shifted uncomfortably as they realized what was about to happen.

Zhu practically growled, and the moment Songyi crossed the threshold, he sprang forward and thrust the point of his blade right for his dull, bitter, condescending face. Of course, Songyi side stepped and easily parried, but that hardly mattered. Zhu had indomitable stamina, to the point that he had no reservations exerting all his strength to throttle full speed and full force at Songyi with every slash and jab. Songyi was a good bit skinnier than Zhu, and he wasn’t the type to participate in this style of combat very often. He was just barely able to dodge and fend off the monster by sticking to defense and keeping light on his feet. Zhu’s feet pressed into the ground and kicked up dust every time he charged in for the kill- the metaphorical kill. The ones getting dust in their eyes didn’t leave or complain. As confident as they had been of the outcome moments ago, they collectively wondered whether Zhu would catch up to the artful dodger before Songyi succeeded in tiring him out. With how… Zhu was, one good strike could be the end, disabling even. It was hard to watch without holding your breath. The occasional crash as Songyi blocked a swing was the only sound rippling over the silent crowd.

Thunk.

The sound and sight of a weapon burying itself in a body strained the audience’s ability to withhold a gasp. For a moment, they leaned in and recoiled back again like a wave. Was someone going to carry him off the field…?

The very moment Zhu first sensed that exhaustion was starting to brush up behind him and he realized that he’d slowed down a fraction of a beat, he felt a heavy blow to his gut. It felt like the blunt force of a punch managed to penetrate his skin and muscle to strike the most vulnerable depths of his core. Then when Songyi yanked the blade out, Zhu tried to ignore that his hands were shaking as they traveled across his body to compress the wound. Seeing just how much of this warm slippery substance was flowing out of his stomach was making Zhu’s vision swim. He hated to admit it, but his first scream came from a mixture of panic and distress.

Zhu struggled to stay on his feet, with one arm clutching his side and the other clinging to his spear for dear life. Tears were streaming down his face now, but it was clear to everyone watching that it was taking a lot of effort for him to steady his breath and avoid exacerbating the pain by crying aloud. He glared at Songyi and moved his mouth to say something but it was inaudible to the onlookers. Zhu got about half way through a vicious lunge at Songyi before collapsing and passing out.

Songyi did give Zhu a glance over, just to confirm he hit his mark and avoided hitting anything vital when he skewered his cousin. As half the crowd lurched forward to tend to Zhu with the light first aid they brought, or sprint off to find something better, the other half lingered uncomfortably for a minute or so before leaving to continue going about their day. Before anyone was able to return with a doctor or one of their masters, Songyi left.

#whump #whump scenario #whump writing #whumpee #writing #oc writing #oc whump #oc - zhu fan #tw violence #tw blood #tw stab wound #ive barely posted my oc stuff lol #i hope this scene pulls you in xD #original fiction #original character #this is kinda backstory moment #rarely the age i write him #he's like 13 here #but probably young adult if when he gets a prop whump plot haha

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