but honestly in the show itself it honestly looks like an open wound

Lead Me On; Part Six.

A/N: Aaah, I’m SO sorry for the long wait. I’ve meant to upload this sooner but I haven’t gotten around writing it. Nonetheless, it’s here and I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Fuckboy!Chanyeol x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Romance, AU

Warnings in this chapter: ABUSE, panic attack, sexual scenes.

Words: 3,265

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | to be continued…

Disclaimer: I in no way, promote abuse or try to romanticize it. Abuse is wrong. This story touches the subject of abuse. I am in NO WAY passing any existing person in is off as an abuser because they are not an abuser. If you are a victim of abuse, you can always message me. I am willing to help you or simply talk about it. I care. So do so many other people. Please reach out to someone if you are a victim of abuse. You are not alone.

Please give me feedback! I want to improve my writing!


If perfection existed, the universe wouldn’t.

You’re realizing that there is no utopia. To create utopia, all things need to be perfect. To create utopia, everything, literally everything has to be perfected. You’ve realized long ago that it is impossible to perfect everything. You’ve accepted that humans live in a constant state of dystopia. Even if it’s barely noticeable. It was a fact. A fact you have acknowledged and accepted. Simply because there is no other alternative.

Not the kind of dystopia you’d read in science-fiction books. Corrupt governments, rebelling groups, war.

Or do you?

At least, these last three weeks of Chanyeol being your boyfriend felt utopic.

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A Speedster’s Halo


Originally posted by imnotgrantgustin

DESCRIP: the daughter of Bruce Wayne shows up needing the Flash’s help. She has powers- but can’t control them. And it only gets more complicated from there.

(Maybe new series?? It gets good- i promise lol)

When the Flash had gotten the distress signal- he really had believed it was Oliver. I mean- it had said it was from the Arrow; who else would have had the right frequency for STAR labs anyway?


Well- he probably should have been more careful.


Barry sped into the small abandoned building from where the signal had come from- on the outskirts of gotham. The building looked like it had been closed for years, and maybe it used to be an old laundromat. Barry opened the dusty glass door, the creaking echoing throughout the store.


“Oliver?” The Flash asked, squinting into the dark.


No one responded.


Weird.


“Barry- is he there?” Caitlin asked, coming through his earpiece.


“I don’t know,” He replied, slowly moving past the cracked and peeling walls of the room. A piece of linoleum cracked under his foot, making him jump. “But this place is a lot creepier then it should be.” Barry continued, looking up warily. Just as he was about to move forward again, something stumbled out from behind the old counter top. It was a girl- at least he thought it was.


“Oh thank God it’s only you.” The voice said shakily, sounding like her throat was stuffed was cotton. She sounded happy- but Barry wasn’t entirely sure. He held up his arms.


“Hold up- you’re not the Arrow.”


“Well that’s pretty obvious- I’m not exactly wearing green.” The figure moved away from the old counter, starting to come into the dim light. Before she could, Flash pointed more forcefully.


“Hey, hey wait, you can’t just trick me into thinking you’re a different person and not expect me to be suspicious. How’d you get that signal?”


A moment of silence passed. The girl sighed, the breath echoing around the once empty store.


“It wasn’t that hard, and honestly I would love to explain that to you,” The girl said, slowly coming into the light, “but I don’t think I really have the time.”


That’s when Barry saw it, the dark blood leaking from between the girl’s fingers. She had her hands pressed up against her right side- which had already been wrapped in a jacket. The girl smiled up at him, her entire body shaking.


“I guess we really will have to talk about this later.” Barry rushed over, gloved hands brushing over the girl’s bloodied ones. For how much she was bleeding, she seemed to pretty tough- and handling it well. Except once she felt the Flash next to her, her body knew it didn’t need to try and keep itself up anymore. Her knees buckled, dropping her.


“Woah!” Barry yelped, catching her against his chest. The girl’s eyelids fluttered, head lolling. ”Hey, wait- no you’re going to die- I’ve got you. I’m taking you to the nearest-”


“No-no hospitals! please.” The abrupt urgency that immediately changed her hazy eyes to sharp and wild ones were what convinced him. This girl was in danger. He had to help her.


“No hospitals. I promise. Now hold on.”


And with that- they were gone.



Y/n’s POV



The first thing you heard was loud chewing.


You hated loud chewing.


You grimaced, feeling an oxygen mask strapped to your face. A bright light hung above your head, turning your eyelids red. The chomping continued- but it was joined by humming. Turning away from the noise, you slowly opened your eyes.


You laid in what looked like a hospital bed, tucked under white sheets with what you gathered was either one really big pillow or three smaller pillows supporting your head. Turning your head again, you winced at the bright light above. You looked up at the loud eater, and saw a guy who you assumed was your age. So this was the culprit. You looked him up and down, as he had his back to you. He did a small kind of dance- he was humming- single ladies as he looked at one of the machines.


Honestly- it was pretty funny. But having that bright light in your face was not. You looked down at your body, which was covered with EKG stickers. They monitored your steady heartbeat, keeping everyone informed on whether or not your where dieing.


So you ripped them off.


The machine monitoring you flatlined, and the boy who had been dancing jumped.


“Holy sh- What?” The guy stopped, his momentary shock giving way to disbelief, “Why would you do that?” He said, drawing out the word why longer for emphasis. You looked at him, still lying with your head sunk into the pillow. Removing your oxygen mask, you pointed up at the light.


“It’s kinda bright.”


“Well you could have just asked!” The loud chomper ran over to the light, and begrudgingly turned it off.


“Thanks.” You said, smiling. The guy looked down at you, keeping a disapproving frown on his face.


“Sure…” The guy looked around, tucking his longer black hair behind his ears, making them look bigger then they were. And not in a bad way- a funny way.


“Listen-” The guy pointed at you with both hands clapped together, “ I have to call my friends- please don’t do anything- like what you just did. Okay?”


You nodded, making a serious face.


“Yes sir.” The ‘sir’ snorted (he’d never been called sir before- it sounded weird. Or maybe cool?), but quickly covered up his laughter with a frown.


He went to go call his friends. You watched as he walked out of the medical bay, and into the large room outside. Once out of sight, you leaned forward in the bed. A burning pain raced up your side, and you let out a small grunt. Your back fell back onto the pillow, letting your side relax while still letting you evaluate your situation. You lifted up the edge of the once white shirt, exposing your bandaged wound to the world. You cursed, happy that they had actaully treated you- but also frustrated because you couldn’t look at your own bullet hole. You looked up at the ceiling, a sigh escaping your nose as you trailed your hands over were you assumed the damage was.


Well- there was nothing so far…


But before you could figure it out, a burst of wind rushed through the room. You snapped up, this time ignoring the pain. You wanted to see it.


You looked out from your room, seeing him.


You thought you had been hallucinating when you first saw him- but now it was real.


You hoped.


The Flash stood in the middle of the room, clad from head to toe in red. Before, you didn’t think it was going to be that red- but there he was, looking like a big maroon twizzler. You admired his guts, so you decided if you ever got a suit you would want it to be just was bright and obvious as his. The Flash was close to the guy who had called him, talking excitedly.


And then he looked at you.


Right then you realized- this was going to be a long one.

Jacob Frye x Reader - The Fight

Originally posted by assassinscreedstuff


[A request from Anon(s)? where Jacob loses his temper at the reader. There’s not much I can play with this in this scenario (well, I could, but I refrain, because I like characters to remain in character and also because of my own, personal, tragic back story in regards to abusive men), but I will do my best to make it as enjoyable as possible for the ones that requested it.]

Your name: submit What is this?

You had found him wounded before—in an alleyway of all places and looking as though he were dead. His back against the surrounding wall, you had to realize he was breathing before announcing such a thought to yourself. Dragging him to your place, you did your best to let him heal under your care, but he was brutish and almost acted offended that you would dare rescue him.

With every bit of him snapping and pulling away from your touch, you tried to excuse the fact that he was hurt, but his temper was hardly something you could handle after awhile as you were doing what you could to make sure he’d find his feet again.

One day, you found yourself coming home and this Jacob Frye had fastened himself into his attire you had stripped from him before. Seeing such a thing, you frowned. He was still healing from that gunshot wound to his side and the several punches you noticed he took. If anything, his bruised skin showed that truth every time you changed his bandages.

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Barista Shoulders & Haleing Hands

Dashed off for @omgsterekplease , who has the barista!shoulder in question, and who is also (probably reluctantly) my muse.

Stiles, of course, is the barista in question. He works long hours at the most hipstery of hipster coffee shops, which is ideally located between the business district and the university, hugely popular as a result, and the current bane of his existence.

He’s too poor to quit and too busy with an intense course load to even consider searching for a different job. His boss isn’t terrible, the work itself isn’t half bad, the hours are flexible enough to fit his odd schedule, and he only burns his hands a few times a week. (One of his coworkers came to work in delicately pretty flats, despite their initial training; she quit in tears after nearly splashing burning coffee over the bare tops of her feet. The owner had to hold a special staff meeting to reiterate their training and the fact that there had never been a lawsuit filed against Finstock’s Roasts, and there never would be, if he could help it.)

The thing no one had ever told him about this type of work, though, was how horrible the constant, repetitive movement was on the baristas’ shoulders and lower backs. He was too tall for their machines, which meant he had to spend most of his hours standing hunched at a low counter, his muscles tight and tormented by the end of each day. 

Some nights, he had trouble even sitting at his computer, or holding a pen. He’d collapse on his thin university mattress, his back screaming at him, his muscles throbbing in unpleasant, painful spurts, his mind filled with dread over the next essay he’d have to power through. (There were other things a healthy single man would like to be doing with his hands, he told Scott mournfully, who tried to look sympathetic but crossed quickly into disgusted. Which was rude, honestly, when he kicked Stiles out of the room three or four times a week so Kira could come over.)

At a certain point, something had to give. His studies obviously couldn’t. His job couldn’t, if he wanted to keep paying for those studies. His back and shoulders definitely would if he didn’t do something about it, and soon.

Which is how Stiles wound up in another student’s room, stripped down to his boxers and with his face shoved into a hole in a fold-up massage table. Erica was a friend of a friend and a masseuse in training, still working on her hours, and thus considerably cheaper than the other options he’d half-heartedly looked into when his complaining and limping (I don’t care if it’s not leg pain, he’d snapped at Lydia, limping still makes it feel better) began to concern his friends. Erica had an abundance of curly blonde hair, hands that honestly kind of hurt - he wasn’t sure massages were supposed to be quite that rough, but the pain probably meant the knots were getting worked out? - and was quite pretty, in an unapproachable sort of way.

This was only partially because of the guy who always stayed in the room during the massages, either broodily reading a book or creepily leaning against the wall and staring at Stiles to make sure he didn’t try anything. Stiles couldn’t tell if he was Erica’s bodyguard or boyfriend (they didn’t seem to ever flirt, but who wouldn’t want to hit that gloriously muscled, even more gloriously bearded man) but either way, knowing those inexplicably multicolored eyes were fixed on his naked body did far, far less to reduce the possibility of boners than Glowery Brows probably intended.

Stiles had asked, early on, trying to make conversation to distract from how awkward he felt stripping in front of Beautiful Bodyguard, whether he was also working on his hours. Derek - it took four appointments and a lot of attempts at “casual” conversation to draw out that name - had simply snapped NO at him and then looked away when Stiles sheepishly took off his shirt. It was confidence-shaking but not surprising; he was probably appalled at the sight of all that pale skin. He had to suffer through a lot for his friend, Stiles supposed. It made him a good person, maybe. It didn’t make Stiles feel any better, or any less pointlessly attracted.

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Soft and Safe Chapter One

(My first phanfic. Judge me. I don’t care)

To be fair, life had been extremely stressful for Dan. For the past year and a half, he had written an entire book and co-directed a stage show. Things that he literally had no training in before he had taken on the tasks. The small vacations that they had taken did nothing for his anxiety and while he was pretty decent at pretending he was alright around his friends, Phil knew that Dan was wound too tight. The moment that they would enter their flat, Dan would deflate. His shoulders would sag and his head would hang and it was obvious that the world just felt too heavy for him. Phil would ask if he wanted to talk about it, but Dan would weakly laugh it off.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m just tired”.

“What are you on about? This is just my face.”

“Oh Phil, you silly guy. I’m constantly a hot mess. You should know this by now.”

Phil would play along, smiling just as weakly. He knew that Dan was stressed, because Phil was stressed too. There were so many deadlines and press conferences and people in their face CONSTANTLY. Phil’s stress manifested itself in illness. He felt like he had been coughing and wheezing for months. Even still, he worried because Dan had no reprieve. The music didn’t calm him and he couldn’t focus on anything enjoyable. He always looked like he was two seconds away from a cataclysmic meltdown and it broke Phil’s heart. He wanted to help his friend more than he could possibly say. He wanted Dan to have a little place where no one asked him to do anything too hard and he could unwind. He wanted to see Dan’s natural light shine through. Fuck, he honestly just wanted him to be comfortable again.

Little place…

The thought had barreled through him suddenly and Phil sprang from the couch and lunged for his keys much to Dan’s surprise. They had been sitting in the living room watching Battlestar Galactica when Phil all of a sudden moved with haste to leave their apartment. It was uncharacteristic for Phil to not tell Dan where he was going. Though they had no real obligation to announce their comings and goings, it was an unspoken truth that Dan and Phil had a slight codependency issue. It wasn’t as if they were incapable of being apart from each other and sometimes they really did like their own private space. However, as a general rule of thumb, it was a slightly unnerving feeling to be separated from one another. Eating without the other one present felt foreign; incomplete. Touring had honestly made that fact more prominent. They went to different states daily, and had come to realize that the only thing that stopped them from panicking or being devastatingly homesick was the fact that they had each other to lean on. It was all innocent in its own right, but the staff and their friends did have to stifle giggles when Dan would dramatically call for Phil from across the venue because he wasn’t in his line of sight and he needed to know if this line sounded too cheesy or if the pose was too awkward. As it were, Dan didn’t want to come off as needy so he didn’t ask Phil why he was leaving. Phil was a grown man, and he could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

The pang of worry and desperation that ghosted over Dan’s heart as he watched Phil put on his jacket would go away.

Phil skipped to the stairs with his keys and phone in hand. He gave Dan a hurried wave and headed towards the door. Dan put the episode on pause without a word and started messing around on the Internet while trying really really really hard to ignore how unbelievably silent the apartment was when Phil was gone. He tried not to let words like “stagnant” and “lonely” dance around in his mind. They were two separate people who needed to do things independently. Dan REALLY needed to accept that. The brown haired boy rolled his eyes at his actions and proceeded to do some premium shit posting for what felt like an eternity until he heard rattling downstairs that indicated Phil was returning. Dan didn’t move a muscle and tried very hard to show no excitement about the fact that his flatmate was back. The closer Phil’s footsteps got, the better he felt. Maybe it was weird, but he didn’t want to think about it too much. He just wanted Phil to come back so he could start breathing normally again.

When Phil entered the lounge, he looked winded and jittery. His awkward stance seemed even more awkward and he was chewing at his bottom lip while holding on to a paper bag for dear life.


Dan grunted, hoping that it came off as casual interest.

“Dan? Can we talk about something?”

Dan’s panic came back tenfold and he could feel his palms sweating as he placed his laptop on the coffee table. Why did Phil seem so serious and nervous? They were home.

“Sure, Phil. What’s up?”

“First off, I’m just going to be upfront. What I’m about to propose is weird and you 100% don’t have to do it. If you want, after I’m done speaking, you can act like this conversation never happened. Alright?”

Dan’s heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest from the anxiety. He didn’t know what was going on at all.

“Okay…”

“You’ve seemed a bit off for a while now. I think I know why. I mean, life has been crazy for the both of us what with the book and the tour and everything. “
“Yeah. Things have been intense. I keep thinking that I’ll get a better handle on everything. I mean, we did BBC and I even did a documentary but it’s just been more overwhelming than I had thought it would be.”

Dan sighed heavily as if he had gathered it from the bottom of his soul. He was embarrassed but relieved to finally admit to Phil that he was having a hard time. It helped him feel like he wasn’t keeping a big secret. Phil smiled gently and began to open the paper bag. He pulled out a pacifier. It was baby blue with a little cartoon puppy in the middle. He also pulled out what appeared to be a dog collar. It was black and basic looking. Nothing to call home about.

Dan looked at the items and furrowed his brows.

“What are those for?”

“I know this sounds fucking crazy…but I kind of think that I could help you relax. I think we could help each other.”

“I’m not following”.

Phil felt himself blush. This might have been the worst thing he’s ever thought to do. It just seemed like it would be worth it.

“I was thinking we could turn the house into a kind of safe place. We know each other well and we trust each other. If you wanted, we could…role play…together.”

They both sat in silence for what felt like ages. Dan and Phil weren’t dating. Dan honestly didn’t even know if Phil dated at all. With the exception of some drunken rendezvous, they NEVER addressed anything romantic regarding one another. That was just for the shippers. It wasn’t anything real. Dan felt like he had heard something wrong, but the pacifier and collar were still in Phil’s pale hands.

“I’m sorry. This was a bad idea” Phil said, disheartened.

“Wait.”

Phil looked at Dan who was studying the pacifier as if it was something he’d never seen before.

“What…what would we do?” Dan asked slowly.

“Whatever you wanted. I could wrap you in a blanket and give you the pacifier. You could watch your favorite movies and play video games. I could…I could feed you and bathe you.” Phil’s voice was little more than a whisper as if saying all of this too loudly would scare Dan away. When Dan started gazing at the collar, Phil cleared his throat and continued.

“If you wanted, I could put the collar on you and it could be more of a…pet…thing. I could pet you and you wouldn’t talk and I could teach you tricks and feed you treats out of my hand. Things like that.”

Dan was breathing shakily. It all sounded so nice, but it was so unexpected.

“Why…what made you want this?”

“I think we have a lot of responsibilities…and this could be an escape for us both.”

Dan looked into Phil’s breathtaking eyes and felt himself get light headed. He inhaled deeply, just now realizing that he was holding his breath.

“Th-that wouldn’t be weird for you? To do that? With me?”

Phil ducked his head down and smiled.

“No. I think I’d rather enjoy it. It doesn’t have to turn into anything sexual. I just want to be bonded to you.”

“What do you mean?” Dan asked while leaning in closer to Phil. The faint smell of his cologne made Dan feel warm and happy.

“I don’t know, Dan. Just…over the years, I’ve found myself wanting to be closer to you. I enjoy you. I just thought this could be something that we share. A little more intimate.”

Phil braved a glance, and was greeted with rosy cheeks and half lidded eyes. Dan looked as if he was under a trance, and Phil could feel his breath on his lips. Phil wanted to devour him. He wanted to kiss Dan breathless. He wanted to bite and lick at his pink lips and pale neck until he was littered with bruises. He wanted to place his hands around his throat and relish the noises of hearing an angel gasp for air. He wanted Dan so badly that he could barely stand it, but he didn’t want to push. He resisted the urge to kiss him and put the items back into the bag.

“Phil?”

“Yes, Dan?”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind? If…”

“Not at all.”

Dan closed his eyes and imagined it. He imagined Phil feeding him applesauce while he wore one of their comfortable onesies. He imagined sucking on the pacifier while Phil’s soft hands played with his hair. He shivered, and looked down at his lap.

“I want that, Phil. I want…you to take care of me.”

“I’ll take such good care of you. I promise.”

Phil put his hand on Dan’s cheek and rubbed lightly. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that Dan would say yes, but he was going to make sure that he gave Dan everything he needed.

Dan closed his eyes and leaned in to the touch. He brought both hands up to meet the one on his cheek. Then, he slowly turned his head and opened his mouth. Phil watched in shock as Dan took Phil’s thumb into his mouth and began to suck it. The older man froze, unsure of the appropriate action to take. Dan’s mouth was warm and he was sucking as if he were feeding from a bottle. His soft tongue was gently pressed to the pad of Phil’s thumb and he was letting out barely audible moans of gratification.

They stayed like this for a few precious moments until Dan let the thumb fall from his mouth. They stared into one another’s eyes without a word. There was too much to say. There was nothing to say.

“Soon, Dan. I’m going to make you feel better so soon. I promise”

Dan nodded his head in understanding and stood up to go to his room. He had been through too many emotions and all he knew he needed in that moment was to lie the fuck down.

Phil headed to his room as well, head spinning and half a hard on straining his black denim jeans. As soon as he closed his door, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He flopped down on his bed and roughly pulled down his pants and briefs until his penis was freed. He wasted no time, placing his hand around his cock and fucking up into his own hand. He put his other hand around his mouth, trying not to make enough noise for Dan to hear. He wanted to appear as neutral as possible until Dan gave him permission. Even still, images of fucking Dan into his mattress flooded his mind and he was bucking so erratically into his own hand that he was grateful that his headboard was too sturdy to hit the wall. He knew he wasn’t going to last long and after a few harsh thrusts and a twist of his wrists around his swollen head, he was spilling all over his hand. He panted for a few moments and then awkwardly reached for a towel from his laundry hamper.

Little did he know, Dan was in the room across from him, doing the exact same thing while gently whispering…

“Daddy…please…”

the meaning of time;

member- taehyung

genre- pretty fluffy, au

words- 1,325

summary- a boy who has never had an interest in the present day finds a reason to never leave it. timetraveler!taehyung

a/n- idkkk about this (i never know about my writing lol) but i think there’s a lot i can write with this topic, so if you guys like it, i may write more about this little time traveler. dear anon, i hope you like this! 

Originally posted by ygnj

Time has a wonderful way of showing us what matters. 

The concept of time has always been a mystery to Taehyung. He’s grown up his whole life with a distorted view of how the world really is, because, well, he doesn’t exactly know how the world really is. He’s never had the chance to spend much time in the present- for good reasons. 

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a not very comprehensive summary of the things i have learned about skincare after special interesting in it for 3 months

You need a good cleanser. It’s one of the most basic and well-known aspects of a skincare regime. It’s also been one of the hardest things for me to attack at the level of ingredients. I know some stuff that should not be in your cleanser, but have way less information about what should be.

First: No bar soaps. On your body either if you get acne there. It might make you feel nice and clean at the time, but the ingredients that keep that soap together in a bar clog your pores. Sorry, Dove. 

Second: No alcohol. This applies to all of your skincare products. Alcohol and other strong astringents are great disinfectants, but unfortunately they damage your skin barrier, opening up those nice newly-disinfected areas to the environment. And like an open wound without a bandaid, it gets dirt and germs in it and voila! You have more acne. Get yourself out of that cycle ASAP. 

If you wear full makeup (primer, foundation, etc), it’s probably a good idea to get both makeup removal wipes and a cleanser that takes off your makeup. You want to be sure to get all of that off. Makeup by itself doesn’t clog your skin, but makeup worn all the time and overnight will. You can also get some really neat cleansers that have added benefits like antioxidants (for anti-aging– I’ll get to it).

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You give love a bad name

Originally posted by itsdeanwinchesterr

Prompt: for @deanwinchester-af‘s 25 songs challenge! I chose You Give Love A Bad Name by Bon Jovi, couldn’t help myself! It’s a celebration for her reaching 2.5k followers, you deserve them all love!

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word count: 1299

Warnings: reader is a bitch and hurts Dean, that’s about it! A lot of teasing too

Authors note: thanks to my main girl @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname for beta reading this first and for your continued support! I really appreciate it! Sorry for the lack of posting, I had writers block! As always gif used isn’t mine and I really hope you enjoy it! I decided to switch it up a bit and it’s written from Dean’s POV. 

Tagged: @xxtaylorsingerxx @diesintheshower @aprofoundbondwithdean @gabby913 @marksthatsignify-her-fromtherest @imnotlikeyou0214 @my-name-is-alice-ayers @loveitsallineed @queensdontwaittobesaved @bowties-scarves-and-impalas @sushidoesntneedtoknow

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Can we take a few minutes to appreciate James Spader’s acting choices?

Cause guys, he has been in top form lately. Like always. I’m referring specifically to Red’s recent behavior towards Liz. Let’s examine, shall we?

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