Latest Posts by whumpwhittler - Page 3

This is more inspo from my disaster character, Arvin, than anything (I really put him through the ringer whenever I draw/write him), but I was wondering if you could possibly write a small blurb about a creepy/intimate Whumper with a heavily defiant, and stubborn Whumpee? Bonus points if a bed is involved.

(tw: tied to a bed, biting, muzzles, intimate whumper)

Whumpee glared at Whumper while they tugged at the restraints keeping them tied to the headboard, feeling like they were being burned alive under Whumper’s unforgiving gaze.

“Would you cut that out?” They snapped, tugging especially hard on the restraints. “You’re creeping me out. Stop staring at me, you freak.”

Whumper’s smile grew as they leaned on the doorframe, taking in Whumpee’s every move. “Nah.” They moved away from the doorframe and started walking to the bed. “You’re too fun to watch.”

Whumpee pushed themselves back as far as they could go, growling and trying to bite the hand that approached their jaw. Whumper took their hand away quickly, grinning. “Feisty,” they murmured, amused.

“Come any closer and I’ll bite your damn finger off,” Whumpee spat. They despised the restraints that were holding them back. It was the only thing keeping them from going all out on Whumper.

Whumper only chuckled and knelt down, searching around under the bed. “I’d love to see you try, my dear.”

Whumpee thrashed even more when they saw the muzzle in Whumper’s hand when they returned. “No! NO! Get that the fuck away from me!”

Whumper had to tackle Whumpee down to be able to secure the muzzle. They got bitten a few times in the process, earning Whumpee a swift backhand each time. Once the muzzle was fully secured, Whumper brushed their victim’s hair out of their face and admired the rage in their eyes.

“There we are. Beautiful.”

whumper 4 & whumpee 14 maybe? :)

Whumper 4: “Let's see what's more important to you. Your dignity, or their safety?” / Whumpee 14: “I'll do anything!”

Okay so I'm trying to do some different things with these prompts, so here, have some team whump for once. And a defiant whumpee because I realized I go for quiet ones way too often 🙃 Anyways, I hope you like it Anon <3

-

It’s Whumpee’s fault that they were captured. If Whumpee had been a little faster, a little smarter, Whumper wouldn’t have reached them. If they hadn’t been caught with a blade against their neck, their team wouldn’t have been forced to let go of their weapons and let themselves be captured to save Whumpee’s life.

It is Whumpee’s fault, even if no one dares recognize it. Maybe it’s because they are the youngest member, the one the rest of the team sees as their younger sibling. But the lack of blame on their part does nothing to alleviate the knowledge – if it weren’t for Whumpee, the whole team wouldn’t be locked in a cell right now, hands shackled in front of them and the heaviness of anticipation in the air.

When the door opens, all four of them get up in unison. A true team, Whumpee thinks with a lump in their throat. A true family. One they might’ve ruined.

“So, I see you are all settled in,” Whumper smirks, walking inside with a line of guards close behind. “Have my men been treating you well?”

“Oh yes, feels like a much-needed vacation,” Whumpee replies dryly.

Leader shoots them a warning glance, but all Whumpee can think about is their family’s wrists surrounded by metal because of their failure.

Whumper raises their brows, utterly unimpressed, and looks around the room, eyes wandering through all of them.

“Tell me Whumper, how long did you spend planning this? Did you dream about the moment you’d catch us so you wouldn’t be so alone anymore?” Whumpee smiles, and then wider when Whumper’s eyes slide from Caretaker to them. “I bet it’s awfully lonely here. I mean, who would put up with you? So, my question is: is all of this just so you can have at least a little bit of company you didn’t pay for?” they continue, gesturing at the guards standing against the wall.

The smile on Whumper’s lips doesn’t move, but their eyes grow darker at each word that leaves Whumpee’s lips.

“Whumpee, shut up,” Leader says through gritted teeth.

“But I didn’t finish,” they pout, tipping their head and flashing Whumper a grin. “I was just about to give Whumper some tips. You know, if you want to seem intimidating, you have to work on your tactics sweetie, because right now all you look is pitiful. I’d say you could–”

“Say one more word, sweetie, and I’ll make you pay for each of them with blood,” Whumper says, any trace of a smile gone.

Whumpee only blinks innocently.

“See, this is what I mean, you have to up your captor game, Whumper, you look like–”

“Please excuse them, Whumpee doesn’t know what they are talking about,” Caretaker cuts in, wide eyes locked on Whumper’s. “They do that when they are scared, they don’t mean it. Just tell us what you want for our freedom.”

“What? I am not scared, I'm biting my tongue trying not to laugh–”

“Whumpee stop,” Healer says from their side. It’s barely a whisper, but it carries all of their fear, and Whumpee feels it like a punch to their gut. Their fault. That fear is their fault.

“As I was saying, you look pathetic Whumper, and–”

A hand around their throat stops them this time, pushing them back against the wall with a loud thud. Whumper looks down at Whumpee as they squeeze, only tight enough for Whumpee to know who’s in control.

The team loses it. Three screams sound at the same time and through the corner of their eyes, Whumpee sees Leader, Caretaker, and Healer throwing themselves forward, only to be held back by the waiting guards.

“Go on Whumpee. Tell me all about how pathetic I am.”

They open their mouth, but only a breathless gasp leaves their lips. Whumper smirks.

“Not so funny anymore, huh?”

They open their mouth again, and this time, Whumpee spits right at Whumper’s face – saliva hits and stays on their nose. Whumpee smirks back.

Whumper blinks once before letting Whumpee fall to the ground clutching their throat and fighting for air. They look up just in time to see Whumper wiping the spit away.

“Please, they don’t know what they are doing!” Caretaker shouts, thrashing against the two guards that hold their arms.

With a wave of their hand, Whumper sends one of their guards to grab Whumpee by the arms and pull them up, shoving them toward the door when they don’t resist.

“Whumper! If you want to hurt one of us, take me. Torture me if you will, I won’t fight,” Leader says in a calm voice that barely betrays the fear underneath the words. Whumpee can still see the stiffness on their shoulders and the clenching of their jaw, though. Whumper can too.

“We’ll give you what you want, just don’t touch them,” Healer tries.

Whumper simply turns to the door.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give them back to you,” Whumper says over their shoulder. “As soon as I’ve taught them a lesson or two on how to treat their betters.”

Whumpee doesn’t look back when their team shouts threats and pleads behind them. The mere idea of how much despair must be etched on each of their faces is enough for Whumpee to feel tears pricking their eyes. They are the reason their team was captured, Whumpee tells themself as they hear the door lock behind their back. It is only fair for Whumpee to be the one to hurt.

They aren’t taken far. A door right beside the cell is opened for them, and all Whumpee does when they are pushed inside is suck in a sharp breath and square their shoulders.

“Where are all the jokes now, Whumpee?” Whumper enters the room right behind them and flips the light switch.

The room isn’t big – it’s about the same size as the cell. The only addition to the new one is a small cabinet on the side and a mirrored wall. Whumpee doesn’t dare look at the stains on the floor that look disturbingly like dry blood.

The guard places Whumpee in front of the mirror, and there they stay.

“Jokes?” they repeat, mock shock lacing the words, “I was trying to help you be a better bad guy and you call it jokes? This is exactly why you look like such a–”

“Say one more word, and I’ll have my men bring Caretaker here instead of you.”

The words die on their tongue, swallowed along with the bitterness of fear.

“Ah. I thought that might be it,” Whumper nods, pacing around the room. “You got them captured and now you want to make up for it, huh?”

“And then people say I’m the one who can’t stop talking,” Whumpee rolls their eyes, trying to ignore the squeeze in their heart.

“Do you see that mirror behind me, Whumpee?” They do. It’s the one right in front of them, of course they do. “That is a one-way glass. Do you know what that means?”

“My team is watching this,” they breathe, looking at the mirror for the first time. Only their wide eyes look back.

“Yes. Pity we can’t hear them,” Whumper takes a step closer, stopping right in front of Whumpee. “Because I bet they’ll scream beautifully when I do this,” they say as their closed fist flies into Whumpee’s stomach, making them gasp and double over in pain.

Whumper chuckles and steps away as Whumpee holds back a moan and leans against the wall to keep standing.

“Now, what are we going to do about all those insults?” Whumper muses, crossing their arms and staring at Whumpee as they fight to breathe.

“How about you let my team fucking go and then–“

“Did I allow you to talk, Whumpee?”

Whumpee looks up and bares their teeth. “I don’t need your permission to fucking talk, you fucking creep.”

“Alright, I know where to start. Whumpee, kneel.”

They only laugh. A genuine laugh, that shakes their shoulders and shoos fear away for the time it lasts. “Yeah, right.”

“You can kneel, or I can whip you until you can’t stand anymore. It’s your choice,” Whumper says.

“And you can kiss my ass. That’s all the choices I’m giving you though,” Whumpee smirks, straightening up.

Their captor sighs, but instead of keeping their promise, they tip their head to the side and smile back.

“Let me rephrase this. Whumpee, kneel, or I can whip Caretaker until they can’t stand anymore. And then I will whip Leader. And sweet Healer last, just so I can hear their lovely screams while the others have their backs ruined.”

The sound of Whumpee’s knees hitting the floor echoes around the room, but it doesn’t hurt as much as the idea of their team being hurt in their place. Neither does Whumper’s laugh.

They only watch as Whumper goes to the cabinet and takes something from the drawer. Something made of leather.

“Put it on,” Whumper says, handing it to Whumpee. They laugh when they look at it, but this time there’s only incredulity in the sound.

“You want me to put on a muzzle?”

Whumper raises their eyebrows.

“No fucking way,” Whumpee says, throwing the thing on the floor.

“Did you know that I can have the air passages to your team’s cell closed, Whumpee?” Whumper looks back over their shoulder at the mirror. As if Whumpee could forget that their family is watching this. As if they could ignore the despair they know they are all feeling. “How long do you think it’ll take until they pass out? How long until the air goes out completely and they start convulsing on the floor, fighting for one last breath that you didn’t allow them to take?”

Tears sting their eyes, and though Whumpee fights them, they can’t help the shiver that runs down their spine.

“I bet they would forgive you. They don’t even blame you for getting caught, do they? But you and I both know that all of this is your fault. You already took their liberty, will you take their lives now too? In the name of what, dignity?”

Whumpee looks down at the muzzle, thrown between Whumper’s feet and their knees. Pictures themself putting it on. They feel sick.

“Guards!” Whumper calls, and pure dread fills Whumpee’s veins.

Whumpee reaches for the muzzle. It feels cold in their hands, but the fear feels even colder when they look up at the mirror, watching themself kneeling on the floor, holding the muzzle in their shackled hands. What is their team thinking? Are they screaming and fighting to get to them? Are they watching in silent horror?

“Let’s see what’s more important to you. Your dignity, or their safety?” Whumper’s eyes are locked on Whumpee’s when they look up.

“If I do this, will you promise me you won’t hurt them?”

“Oh no, I’m not promising you anything, dear. Where did that idea come from? You insulted me in front of my men and my prisoners. Every time you open your mouth I debate cutting your tongue off. Why would I make you any promises?”

“Why would I do this if you'll hurt them anyway?” Whumpee snarls, clasping the leather and clenching their jaw.

“Guards, cut the team’s air off,” Whumper commands, eyes still boring into Whumpee’s with disturbing intensity. Drinking in their panic.

“Wait–”

“On second thought, bring me Caretaker first. I want to see this one scream for their family before they are all dead.”

“Whumper, I’ll–”

“Bring the whip along with them. We’ll have some fun.”

“Whumper, please–”

“What are their lives worth to you, Whumpee? Really? What would you do to save them? Because it sounds to me like you wouldn’t so much as put on a muzzle, so please tell me, what would you do for them?”

“I’ll do anything!” Whumpee yells, choking on the images Whumper painted so, so terribly vividly. On guilt. On love. “I’ll do anything, just don’t fucking touch them.”

“Well, then why am I still hearing your voice?” Whumper croons, nodding at their hands. Though Whumpee can see the amusement in their eyes, all they think about is their team’s screams when they were taken from the cell as they raise the muzzle to their face. With their family's voices sounding in their mind, echoing with each beat of their heart, they find that it isn't hard to do it at all.

It’s with Caretaker’s soft murmurs when Whumpee has trouble falling asleep in their ears that they bite on the bit. Leader’s gentle hands guiding Whumpee to the correct position when they were learning how to fight is the memory that guides them as they fasten the muzzle behind their own head. And it is with Healer’s affectioned smile whenever Whumpee asks them to bandage the most meaningless wounds shining in their mind that they hold still when Whumper places a finger under their chin and tilts their chin up.

“Look,” Whumper whispers, shifting to the side so Whumpee can see their reflection in the mirror. So their team can see it too.

Their eyes shine with unshed tears. They had never realized how small they look when they aren’t using their words to make themself bigger. How their wrists look so very thin surrounded by metal. But there’s only so much Whumpee can look at before their eyes fall on the muzzle.

It covers half of their face, stiff leather locking their mouth shut. They look… defeated. Young. They look so terribly young with that thing covering their mouth, only big scared eyes and empty defiance left.

“So much prettier when you’re quiet,” Whumper sighs, letting out a low chuckle. “Why don’t we work on the lack of respect, now?”

When they unsheathe a knife and let the sharp tip shine near Whumpee’s face, they can’t help but pull away with a scared whine. The guards are there in an instant to hold them still as Whumper laughs out loud and presses the blade against Whumpee’s chest, delighting in their muffled screams as it draws a line of blood across their skin.

On the other side of the mirror, though Whumpee can't hear them, their team screams themselves hoarse as they watch Whumpee’s blood run and pool around them. They don’t stop even after Whumpee is left in a bloody, sobbing heap on the floor for them to stare at.

-

Prompts from this list

A few ways to say “I can’t”:

Angry and frustrated “I can’t!”: shouted at someone making another unreasonable request.

Or with regret: they couldn’t help even if they wanted to.

“I can’t, I-” between rapid breaths they can’t control, shaking, unable to calm down.

“I can’t”: Tired and worn out - they have nothing left to give.

Alternatively, spoken like a quiet surrender, finally admitting defeat.

Desperate and pleading; they honestly can’t and fear the consequences.

“I can’t” Choked up and breaking down because everything is too much.

I’m going to print this one out and frame it.

FEBUWHUMP2022 DAY 8, ALT 7: BLINDFOLDED

@febuwhump

CWs: creepy/intimate whumper, vague noncon touching, stress position

Whumpee is scared.

They try not to show it, but trapped in complete darkness, not knowing where or when Whumper is going to touch them next...it's hard. It's impossible, really, to hold back the gasps that come each time the monster's fingers trail over their back, and then disappear.

And then run over their chest, and gone again.

And then slide along the inside of their thigh, and again, gone.

Their mouth is free, but they promised, they promised themselves they wouldn't beg, just minutes ago when they'd heard the door open...

"You're really something else," Whumper tells them, and that makes them whimper again, helplessly, because this can't be happening. Not really. One moment they were on their way to Caretaker's, the next—

They don't know. They were just here, blindfolded and confused. But surely Caretaker will come for them. They will.

Whumper's breath ghosts over Whumpee's neck, and they flinch, swinging forward a bit, all their weight forced up on their aching tip toes, the rope around their wrists keeping them above their head cracking on whatever it's attached to.

"Wh...what do you want?" they ask finally, when they've gotten as steady as they can again, trying not to sound as desperate as they are.

Whumper takes Whumpee's chin in their hand, and pulls them forward, far too close.

They chuckle softly, as Whumpee wiggles, off-balance, and quietly say, "You."

“Good morning, Whumpee.” Whumper walked into the room, letting the door fall closed behind them. Their hands were clasped behind their back in a businesslike fashion.

Whumpee shifted in the confines of their cage, short enough that they had to sit- or kneel, by Whumper’s demand- and suspended in the air at about waist height. They had been left there for long enough that they didn’t know how much time had passed. That being said, they were a little salty.

“Found the time to visit? I thought you were far too busy. I’m not getting in the way of your appointments, am I?” They reclined in their cage as much as they were able to, pretending like the bars didn’t dig into their back.

“Oh, don’t worry, I cleared my whole schedule. I want to take my time with you.”

“How considerate.” Whumpee took a deep breath and yawned, hopefully looking bored. “Sadly, something came up while you were away, and I actually have to cancel on you. I hope you can understand. Which way to the exit?”

“You talk too much.” Whumper frowned, though the lack of any actual anger sent red flags flooding through Whumpee. “Luckily, I have just the thing to break you of that.”

They unclasped their hands from behind their back, revealing a leather muzzle dangling from their fingers.

Whumpee slammed themselves as far away as possible. The cage swayed unsteadily on its chain. “Absolutely not- you are not putting that thing on me.”

Whumper took a step closer, eyes glinting as Whumpee shrank further into themselves. “Oh, doll, do you think it’s a choice you get to make? What have I told you?”

Whumpee swallowed heavily. “I belong to you. I exist to- to please you.”

Whumper hummed in agreement and reached out.

“But- but you said you like to hear me scream,” Whumpee said desperately. They cringed at the flimsy argument, hating themselves for it. Hating themselves for the warring inside of them between obedience and rebellion. Hating that they were considering obeying at all.

“Oh, I do.” Whumper grinned. “And believe me, I will make you scream soon enough. But today I want to see you obeying me, and to do that, I can’t have you talking back.”

Whumpee’s breath caught in their throat. As they stared at the piece of leather in Whumper’s hand, everything else seemed to fall away. They suddenly couldn’t gather much thought past the repetition of what it was, trying to make sense of it. It was a muzzle. A muzzle. Like you would put on a dog that bit someone. The thought of wearing one was humiliating and degrading and so very wrong.

Their vision blurred.

“Whumpee? You still with me?”

Fingers snapped in front of their nose. They jumped, flinching. Whumper laughed and ran a thumb over their face. Whumpee quivered under the intimate contact that held them at the edge of panic. The hand drew back, and they found themselves leaning forward after it for half a second, desperate for the small comfort it provided. They quickly stopped themselves and pulled back again.

Whumper clicked their tongue. “Don’t pull back, you were being so good. Sweet. Come here for me, so I can put this on you.”

“I- please. No,” they whispered. Their eyes ached from holding back tears. They tried to muster up some courage, to say something clever, but nothing came to mind. They were numb with fear. Somehow, wearing that muzzle seemed like accepting Whumper’s crazy notions. If they couldn’t actively argue with Whumper, how long would it be before they started to believe them?

“Don’t be difficult.”

“It’s not being difficult for me to- I’m not a dog! You can’t make me wear that!”

Whumper raised their eyebrows, unimpressed. “You belong to me, don’t you? I can make you do anything I want, and it’s time you learn that. It’s perfectly reasonable for me to keep my belongings in line. Now, come here.”

Whumper’s tone edged into dangerous territory- the voice they used when they were done with Whumpee’s disobedience, and it would be punished if it continued.

Whumpee ground their teeth together and leaned forward, inches from the front bars of their cage. Whumper’s hands slid through, holding the muzzle.

They tapped Whumpee’s chin. “Open up.”

Whumpee did, closing their eyes. The bit slid into their mouth, weighing heavily on their tongue and not letting their mouth close properly. The leather stretched tightly over their face, digging into their cheeks and pulling at their hair while it was fastened behind their head. It would leave red marks, if not bruises.

Through the leather they felt Whumper’s hand on their face again, running possessive lines over them. Whumpee opened their eyes, shuddering at the sight of Whumper’s adoring grin.

“Oh, that silence is beautiful. I thought I’d like the sight of you like this, but this… you’re just so precious, Whumpee. With your eyes all wide and scared. That little crease between your eyebrows. You can’t talk back to me, can’t defend yourself. I might just have to keep you like this.”

Whumpee’s heart wrenched. Their eyes pooled with tears that fell before they could do anything about it. The tension seeped out of their muscles, leaving them empty and numb and wracked with sobs.

Whumper sighed dreamily and crouched level with them, cupping Whumpee’s face in their hands.

“How lovely,” Whumper murmured to them, tilting their face upward. “I can’t wait to see you break for me.”

Whumpee sagged against the bars, limp and pliable in Whumper’s hands.

——-

Tag list: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @twistedcaretaker @lonesome--hunter

Message me if you want to be added or removed!

I’ll Give All I Have

Fair warning guys, this one is really long! I don’t know how it got this long, but it did. 

The Whumptober prompt for this was Forced Mutism. I’d like to thank both @jinmukangwrites​ and @fidothefinch​ for being two enablers. 

Characters: Jason & Damian, some minor Bruce and Dick

Words: 10,261

Summary:

“The little one will do.”

“No!” Jason cried, tugging at his restraints as he tried to push himself forward, “Leave him be! Whatever you’re doing, it’s me who’s been after you not him. He’s got nothing to do with this.”

The smile the man gave Jason sent chills down his spine, “Exactly.”

~

Jason pulled his legs a little closer to his body and tugged at the cuffs on his wrists again, trying for what felt like the millionth time to get his hand to squeeze through. He was pretty close, they hadn’t tightened them incredibly tight, and Jason thought that maybe if he dislocated his thumb or broke it he could maybe slip them off.

He gave up for the time being, letting his hands flop to the ground, the metal of the cuffs clinking against the concrete. Even if he could get them off and get out of this far too tiny closet, Jason had no idea where they were keeping Damian. The last thing he was doing was leaving here without his kid brother.

If there was anything Jason was confident in, it was that Robin was still alive, and probably just as fine as he was. The guys who’d grabbed them could have easily killed them when the fight had gone sideways, but instead they’d been tied up and dragged here, to some kind of processing plant, with Robin being dragged in one direction, and Jason another.

There were a couple things to take from this, one the men hadn’t really cared whether or not Jason knew where he was being taken, and they hadn’t bruised either of them up more than was necessary. Though, to be fair, in both their cases they’d fought tooth and nail, so that was almost a negligible fact.

Whatever was going on, Mr. Evil Bossman, AKA Barnes, had a plan for Red Hood and Robin, and while Jason didn’t like the idea of sitting around waiting, he liked the idea of causing trouble and getting Robin killed even less.

Keep reading

Whump: Pinning

Y’all… pinning is my jam.

Why are they being pinned? Is it so they can be handcuffed? So their caretaker can tend to the bleeding without getting kicked in the face? So they won’t pop their stitches for the second time? So the caretaker or whumper can get a clear shot with that scary syringe? So many possibilities, it’s practically endless…

The bolt of panic that races up their spine when they realize they can’t free themselves. The hopeless thrashing that ends up tiring them out way too fast. The heart-stopping fear when a solid weight settles on top of them, immovable as a mountain. When they have to sit there and take whatever is being dealt to them because they can’t move.

Turning the whumpee’s head

-The whumper grabbing them roughly by the chin and forcing them to look them in the eye

-Or pulling them closer so they can cut/burn/whatever them in just the right spot

-OR carefully turning their head so they can “admire” their work, and the whumpee is either too exhausted or too conditioned to resist despite their gentle touch

-Caretaker trying to turn a semiconscious whumpee’s head to look at a face wound, but they flinch away thinking it’s the whumper

-”Don’t look at them/it. Look at me. Just me. Focus on me and everything will be okay.”

-Caretaker telling a feverish whumpee who’s lying in bed to turn their head to the side so they can hold a cold compress to the back of their neck

-Or so they can clean a wound 

y’all understand

Got any drug whump? Like the whumper wants the keep the whumpee docile. (Expecially when the whumpee is strong or sarcastic)

- “There, there…Just let the sedative do its job, let it take you down. No more struggling, no more fighting, that’s it…Nighty night, sweetheart.”

- Whumper strapping an anesthesia mask over Whumpee’s face. “Perfect. That’ll stop you from biting, won’t it?”

- “You feel that, don’t you?” Whumper whispers, pulling Whumpee’s chin up to look into their glazed eyes. “Soon you won’t be able to even lift a finger.”

- “I sure wish you had listened to me when I told you to stay quiet, Whumpee. This next dose is going to be even more painful.”

- Whumpee groggily mumbling. Whumper thinks they’re finally going to get them to talk, but it turns out Whumpee is just mocking them even in their stupor

- “Time for another poke!” Whumper singsongs as they jab the syringe into Whumpee hard. “I’m sure you won’t mind the bruises, you’re a tough guy/girl!”

- “I remember a time you would have been trying to tear me apart for touching you.” Whumper strokes a hand through the dazed, sleepy Whumpee’s hair. “Isn’t it better now that you’ve learned your place?”

- Whumper convinces Whumpee after they wake up from the drug’s affects that they told them everything they wanted to know (Maybe they did). It’s the first time Whumper sees real fear on Whumpee’s face and they’re living for it

Whump Prompt #289

“Stop it! Please!” The caretaker lunges forward. “I’ll do anything you want! Please don’t hurt them!”

The whumper smiles, leaning forward to caress the caretaker’s face. “Oh darling, I’m not going to hurt them.” They press something cold and hard into the caretaker’s open palm. “You are.”