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#but by the time they'd died they were completely over it and now they have their own love interests that they'd do anything for
darthstitch · 2 years ago
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10 Random Headcanons About Mr. Hart and Mr. Unwin
1. "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a certain senior Knight newly crowned as Arthur, must be in want of a Guinevere."
The above piece of wisdom was delivered by one Roxy Morton, a.k.a. Lancelot, complete with a rather Significant Look directed at Eggsy Unwin a.k.a. Galahad.
Eggsy's response was an equally eloquent: "Sod off." Also, he was blushing so hard that Harry even noticed it after he walked into the room five minutes later. Which prompted a completely awkward (and adorable, according to Roxy) exchange that consisted of Harry fussing and Eggsy getting all the more flustered, not helped by the fact that at some point, Harry actually called him: "my dear," seemingly by accident. Harry called for tea and Eggsy had to sit through the rest of the Round Table meeting hiding behind a mug of chamomile and scones.
2. Tristan might be a badass assassin who doted on his dog and could easily kill a dozen men with a dull pencil, but he was also interested in crafts and had a puckish sense of humor. He gifted a framed, cross-stitched version of Roxy's quote to Eggsy. Eventually, Eggsy did end up hanging the damn thing in his own office. This was long, long after Eggsy could finally get over the initial abject horror and sheer mortification that John fuckin' Wick had noticed Eggsy's hopeless affections for Harry Hart.
3. It gets worse. EVERYONE actually saw that Eggsy was arse over tits for Harry Hart. "There, there, lad," Merlin told him much, much later, when they'd finally sorted themselves out. "Actually, everyone else had also noticed that he was equally besotted with you."
"Oi," was Harry's reaction to that, in a very deadpan, accurate imitation of Eggsy's accent.
4. Eggsy's "posh" voice gets any number of reactions when he has occasion to use it. His mates have all died of laughter when they've heard him use it in the shop. His mum is also not immune to the giggles, but only because, as she's remarked, "It suits you, Eggsy-boy." Originally, it was a beautiful, dead-on impersonation of Harry himself. These days, when Eggsy slips into that accent, every syllable crisp, cold, and clear, he can actually be terrifying. This is how Galahad takes command of half a dozen Knights in order to go rescue their King and how he even gets Merlin to snap to attention.
5. What most people don't know is that Harry is equally capable of taking on Eggsy's chav accent. The following exchange was recorded for posterity:
Harry: Ah, yer th'guvna, Merlin. Fanks.
Merlin: You're welcome, Galahad.
Harry: S'Arfur, now, innit?
Merlin: ...
Eggsy: *in the background, giggling*
Merlin: Arthur?
Harry: Yeh, bruv?
Merlin: Don't ever do that to me again.
Eggsy: *loses it completely*
6. Harry Hart, of course, spent some time privately agonizing over the fact that he'd gone and fallen for a man half his age. He'd ruefully thought to himself that if he HAD to go through the obligatory "mid-life crisis" he figured that living the life of a Kingsman would have sorted all that out. But no, he had to go arse over teakettle for one beautiful, brave, bright young man who deserved to have the world laid at his feet. Harry was a gentleman of honor and he was quietly prepared to never openly speak of his feelings. If he could have Eggsy in his life as a very dear friend, then Harry would count himself fortunate. If he could have that familiar voice call him " 'Arry" and laugh and tease and generally be the impertinent, mischief-making, cheeky darling that he was, Harry would be content.
(Merlin has heard all this and had to pour himself a very stiff drink, prior to banging his head on his desk because, OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE, HARRY ARTHUR FITZWILLIAM HART.)
7. Harry had quickly become wrapped around the tiny, sticky fingers of little Daisy Unwin from the moment they were introduced. Daisy adored her 'Arry and immediately demanded to be picked up and even Eggsy couldn't completely pry her away, at least until she'd finally fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder, one little hand fisted around Harry's tie. Thus, Harry soon became a regular at tea parties, helped Daisy dress her dolls and also helped her invent fanciful adventures for the dolls to go on, involving kings and dashing knights and dragons and princesses.
8. It was Daisy, actually, who'd managed to finally drive home some very important truths.
"I wuv you, 'Arry."
"I love you too, poppet."
"Eggy wuvs 'Arry too. Wilf you marry Eggy, 'Arry?"
Harry's normally brilliant brain had temporarily gone offline at that innocent question but he must've sputtered out some suitable answer: (Perhaps if Eggsy says yes... / O'course 'e will, 'Arry! Eggy wuvs you muchly!) And right on the heels of that, Harry had heard Eggsy respond in this broken, ragged tone that Harry dearly hoped he would never hear again:
"Eggsy would say 'Yes' - that is, if Harry would only ask."
Needless to say, the two idiots eventually managed to bring Daisy back to her Mum, so that they could have a private talk that involved several heartfelt confessions, kisses and other interesting things best left to the imagination.
No, Merlin, Harry and Eggsy absolutely did not end up defiling the Round Table. Why on earth would they do that when there was a perfectly acceptable bedroom?
In any case, the above incident had convinced Merlin that Daisy might well be a worthy "Morgana" to take his place one day.
9. After Harry and Eggsy, in their friends' own words, "finally got their respective heads out of their arses and sorted their shite out," Eggsy has observed that Harry is apparently incapable of at least going one day without addressing Eggsy by some sort of endearment or the other. "My dear" used to slip out quite accidentally, back when they were both mutually pining, which pretty much confirmed everyone else's suspicions about Harry's real feelings. These days, Eggsy will often hear Harry call him "darling" or "dearest" and it never fails to make him blush and feel all warm inside.
Of course, Eggsy has his own endearments and calling Harry "love" or referring to him as "my Harry" never fails to bring out the smile that Eggsy loves the most, the sweet, shy smile that will eventually give way to the one with the dimples.
10. In the wake of the former Arthur's treachery and the clear weaknesses he had in running Kingsman, Harry as Arthur took a different approach in rebuilding and making sure that changes for the better were made. Going out on missions was one of those changes. "Code Excalibur" became an official thing when it became patently clear that while Arthur and Galahad were already deadly working by themselves, they were absolutely lethal when working together. Of course, this was only invoked in missions where basically the fate of the world was at stake.
The most epic case in which a Code Excalibur was invoked happened during what should have been just a simple intelligence gathering mission that the trainees would be watching from the feeds in Merlin's office. Up to this point, the trainees had not realized that the apparently senior Knight known as "Harry" who so often shamelessly flirted with Agent Galahad and regularlymanaged to wipe the floor with the more arrogant trainees, was actually Arthur himself. Somehow, explosions, potential doomsday weapons and Arthur and Galahad being magnificently badass together happened, at which point Merlin just gave up and called the rest of the Knights in to help.
(Merlin: God help my sanity)
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witch-hazels-musings · 4 months ago
what about a GN reader who has a crush on Kaeya but is completely oblivious when it comes to flirting and misses all the signs? Like he could literally be confessing and they'd just be like "Aw thanks, I love you too best friend :D" (Love your writing btw! You're my favorite genshin writer)
^ poor Kaeya, he doesn’t give up no matter how far his advances fly over the reader's head - you got this Kaeya! 
Warning -> none*
Includes: Kayea 
character x GN reader  |  Anthology
It was kind of incredible how oblivious you were when it came to romantic cues and gestures 
It was almost like a special power as if your skin was made of bird feathers, any hints of attraction thrown your way just roll off of you and into oblivion 
So it wasn’t a surprise that you weren’t very good at relationships - maybe it was because you just liked most everyone, maybe it was how you couldn’t imagine someone liking you that way, or maybe it was because you really weren’t interested - this reason remained a mystery to the dozens of suitors you shrugged off through your life 
That was until you met Kaeya
The definition of determination and adaptability 
“Hey, Y/N.” Kaeya entered your line of sight as you sat on a bench, a book in your hands. He elegantly glided into the spot next to you and placed his arm over your shoulders. 
“Hi, Kaeya.” you pull your eyes from your book and look at the captain. His leg is resting on his knee and he’s giving you a kind smile. 
“What are you reading,” he leans forward and enters your space. His hair spilling over his shoulder and rubbing against your arm. You can smell him and find the scent rather enjoyable. 
“Oh, just some storybook.” 
“What’s it about?” he turns his head to look at you and your faces are dangerously close. Instead of noticing, or having any reaction, you just answer his question. 
Kaeya starts to wonder if his skills are starting to fade, is he really as suave as he believes he is? He might go and flirt with some of the other ladies in town to test his hunch
He’s been flirting with you for weeks and it seems you just aren’t really understanding him - so he just keeps trying, one of these times it’ll work out
Kaeya notices you making your way down the large stairs below the main courtyard. He makes his way toward you, and as if Barbados himself was giving him a chance, you slip on something, your flailing hands reaching to steady yourself. 
You find yourself falling, but into the arms of Kaeya instead of down the stone steps. 
“Ah!” you exclaim, gripping tightly onto his arms, his sturdy body slowing your momentum. 
“Careful now,” his voice sounds in your ear and you wonder why your face is so much hotter than it was a few seconds ago. I almost died, you think, and disregard the reaction. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you purposely did that so you could fall into my arms.” He laughs as he helps you down the remaining steps. 
“Oh, no,” you turn to point at the place where you fell, “Something must have tripped me. How wild.”  
Undeterred, Kaeya tries again. He holds your hand in his and pulls it to his lips, “No matter, I will be here to catch you any time.” 
“That’s sweet of you; you knights are so kind.” You smile and continue on your way, leaving Kaeya staring at his hand in disbelief.
This thick-headedness of yours was driving Kaeya up a wall, he just … didn’t get it? So after attempt after attempt and none of them hitting their mark, he dropped all the hints and just gave it one last shot 
One morning you woke up to a bouquet of flowers at your door, a small package next to it. Inside was a book, one you’d been searching for for years. There was a note inside which said, “Come to the large windmill in the garden - Kaeya.” 
When you finally got to the designated spot, you find Kaeya already waiting for you there. 
“Hey!” you greet him, the note and book in your hands. 
“Afternoon.” Kaeya makes his way toward you.
“Did you leave those flowers and this book outside my door today?” 
“Yup,” once he approaches you, he runs his fingers down your arm. You find the action strange but don’t shoo him away. 
“Did you know, I used to have this book when I was younger but it fell into a river and was ruined. I’ve never been able to find one since.” When you look at Kaeya he is smiling.  
“I knew.” He takes your hand in his and leads you to one of the benches under the windmill.
“Are you okay? You’re acting strange …” you take a seat on the bench and watch him take the spot next to you. 
“I have something to tell you, will you listen to me.” He holds your hand in his and looks at you before speaking again, “I like you.” 
“Ha, Kaeya, I like you too!” a huge grin spreads over his face and there is so much joy in his eyes. 
“You do??” 
“Yeah! Of course, I do, you’re like my best friend.” 
He drops his head before standing up. “No … hmm.” he’s pacing back and forth, his hand wrapped around his mouth. 
He rushes back to where you are sitting and places his hands on either side of you, one against the armrest and the other on the back of the bench. 
“Y/N. I like you.” 
“I like you … too?” 
“Barbados help me, I LOVE YOU.” You’re stunned, absolutely dumbfounded. 
“You … love me?” 
“YES.” His gaze is piercing. You realize how close he is, and the blood rises in your face. 
“Seriously? You’ve never shown any signs that you … like me that way.” 
“Are you …” he’s so flabbergasted he can barely get a response out. “For week’s I’ve been flirting with you” 
“That’s what you were doing!? I thought you were just being nice.” 
“Ugh.” His confidence is shattered, he bends his knees and rests on the balls of his feet, absolutely defeated. 
There is so much emotion building inside of you that you can’t help but burst into laughter. He looks at you, slightly irritated. 
“I’m sorry.” you put your hand over his. “I’ve never been good at reading those kinds of messages. You must have worked so hard.” 
His face perks up a bit, does this mean? “I did, and you ignored me every time.” 
“I’m sorry. I’m listening now.” 
“And?” You cock your head, not sure what he means. “Do you … feel the same?” 
“Yes!” The smile that takes over Kaeya’s expression could demolish buildings. It stabs your heart and you can’t help but smile back at him. He pulls you up from the bench and into a deep kiss, his hands cupped around your face. 
When you pull away for a breath both of you are radiating joy. 
“Sorry, for being so oblivious.” 
“It’s okay, we’ll work on that.” He pledges before returning his lips to your own.
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yandere-wishes · 5 months ago
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👹 Yandere Ryomen Sukuna x Reader
👹Summary: Monsters aren’t born they're made, but Sukuna stumbles across the rare exception...
👹Warning: dehumanization, mention of gore, blood, slight dub-con mentioned in passing, death, past trauma, and abuse
👹 Edited: By the lovely @tealyjade-libran !
👹 Wordcount: 2,480
👹Alternative Tittle : If Roxanne ( from the Police song) lived in ancient Japan.
👹First Jujutsu kaisen fic! I hope you guys like it, please let me know your thoughts! Likes and reblogs appreciated!
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Monsters were made. 
Slowly created as once blazing ideals, withered and died under harsh strokes of reality. Stitched together with broken promises and the ashes of rotting memories. 
Monsters were made
whisked into a role they once dreaded, once feared. Beaten into the role of the villain, the reprobate, the sinner. 
If anyone ever asked Sukuna when was the exact moment he turned his back on the laws of "good" and "evil", shedding his human skin to regrow a pelt of hate and destruction,
He would simply answer, "Never".
Because skin is skin no matter how much it decays. Even if the epidermis turns into a rotting orange shade, littered with eyeballs and teeth that shouldn't grow there.Even if the blood from all those he's slain has finally stained his dermis, tainting it in a permanent crimson that all the waters of Lake Biwa could never wash off. Even if his hypodermis is no longer made of fatty tissue but rather spiritual energy sucked from the atmosphere. It's still skin, the same old skin he was born with.
Sukuna had never shed his skin, he'd only perfected it, enhanced it, molded it into its perfect form, until he was no longer held back by foolish human limitations.
He'd never been "reborn" only recreated; only perfected. 
Spike, talon and teeth covered arms sprouting from oozing, bleeding scars, charred over by begriming infections that burned worse than the strikes he'd endured as a child. Knuckles and bones cracking over and over and over again until they grew as solid as the rocks that were thrown at him when he was all too little to understand the malice behind the insults and threats. Breaking until they could break no more, until they'd become strong enough to split a boulder with a mere flick.
There had come a time when he'd given up licking his wounds, leaving them to be kissed by the mold-covered worms who left an urticating sensation he'd soon come to associate with victory. Rotting flesh growing covered in thick layers of black tar tattoos that hid every cut he'd endured when he'd once been too weak. 
Monsters were created from quarter truths buried neck-deep in fables that snipped like red-eyed scorpions. 
Until the blood dancing through their veins was as black as the void they now called home. 
Sukuna knew the exact moment he realized he was a monster. The day he realized he liked the crunch of skulls beneath his feet, the pitiful spark in mortified eyes staring at the heavens for a scrap of mercy. Mangled mouths barely held together by fractured jaw bones, uttering prayers and pleas that died in the scorching air. 
Sukuna knew he was an abnormality, patched together by broken heirlooms and shattered family traditions. Sitting on a throne made from skulls of those who thought they could ever kill him. 
You can't kill a monster, for you can not kill that which was never born. 
You can't slay something made from good intentions with malevolent methods, something so vile that it might actually be pure. At the end of the day, no monster really admits that it is a monster, a nightmare that should have never existed. 
Tattered hearts and cruel orbs are never quite enough. No monster is complete until they dive off that last edge, plummet into the sea of nothingness, and finally, finally break their souls on the spiked soil. Monsters, spirits, curses any malicious being that had been mended together like a half-done ragdoll was not complete until they truly let go. Until they erased all the former humanity that they had been born with. Until their eyes reflected nothing, no emotions, no malice, no want, no need. Just the absolute emptiness. 
The void in all its glory.
that was the symbol, the true markings of a real monstrosity. The void that took over their existence, that had replaced every inch of their former self. Only then could it be said that you were above all other beings, the true perfection of this world. 
There are worse things created than monsters, things that are made from nothing and everything. Things above "Yin" and "Yang". Things that have no scrap of humanity, monstrosity, or anything in them.
Things that are just empty.
So maybe -just maybe- that's why when Sukuna's rotting orange eyes landed on the epitome of emptiness, a...girl, whose face was sculpted to disreflect emotions and intents. Someone who was the void of darkness itself. The true personification of nothingness. 
His heart -for the first time in countless centuries- began to throb.
a truly dead face swarmed by a sea of buzzing ants, chasing their routine happiness. Smiles of delight and carelessness carved on their aging faces with sunlight knives and the melody of golden coins. The lust for life leaking from every pore of their bodies. 
With every face being a carbon copy of each other it was no wonder yours stood out.
There was a silver chain of attraction, dragging Sukuna towards the village girl. Not love, never love, the king of curses was beyond certain, that neither you nor he could feel such a honey-laced sensation. It was more like....something. Something paranormal, inexpiable. Some magnetic force outside of everything's control. 
It was easy enough to explain why he liked you. Why you stood out from the other insects of this middle-of-nowhere-village. 
You had dark matter for blood and dead seas for brains. 
Your eyes radiated an endless abyss. Making others shy away from your lifeless gaze. Scared to look into the void in fear that it may respond. 
You were a thrown away doll,
A living dead,
A dying star,
You were the daughter of the number zero,
The monster that had no maker nor mother. 
Something not born nor created. 
Just an entity that roamed the earth, with no desire nor hope, no wish nor dream. Not leaving, not dying, just existing in the space between today and tomorrow. 
There'd been no need for pleasantries, for hiding behind ghostly tree branches and frozen windows. There'd been no need to kill or ravage for you. No competition to eliminate, because no one ever came near you. Humans don't like what they can't explain, Sukuna knew that all too well. 
Sukuna watched from a close enough distance to almost touch. Lingering around like a phantom begging to be noticed. Orbs trailing over you, but never approaching. Until one day he'd just stood still. Waited for you to turn your head just a fraction to the left, just to see him in all his menacing terror. To finally notice the clawing, crawling sensation that had been creeping up your spine like a hoard of spiders. 
And when your dead eyes did finally land on him. Sukuna could swear that his breath hitched in his throat for the first time in his seemingly endless life.
You weren't human. Humans didn't have hollow faces or marbles for lips. 
You weren't a curse. Curses didn't lack venom dripping from their souls.
You were something better than a monster. You were the divinity of monstrosity, the void itself. Black holes for eyes, answerless paradoxes for hands, and an endless maze where your torso should have been. 
 Exploding suns danced around you, burning, burning, till they died out, leaving behind no trace that they once lit up the universe. 
The space after the end, that's what you were.
Perfect, to Sukuna you were perfect.
You hadn't run, hadn't screamed, hadn't even bothered to talk. You didn't care about him, couldn't care about him. That's what made him want you, made his mouth salivate with the thought of your flesh between his teeth. 
That night the world stood still, as Sukuna's claws penetrated your flesh like twirling needles. You were as light as a feather. You weighed nothing, were nothing. All so easy to pluck and throw about. You never made a noise when your body collided with the bamboo walls, just letting gravity and Sukuna play a twisted ball game with your lump of a body.
You hadn't protested when he violated you. As his lips bit every inch of your body raw. For some unearthly reason that even the gods couldn't understand, would never want to understand, you had found the Curse's violent actions rather...adoring. Taking every slap and slash with the earnest pride of a small child getting praised for a day of relentless chores. letting the dawn-tinted-haired monster adorn your body in blue and purple jewels. It felt right, in a  pathetically, nauseating, twisted just felt right.
 It was disastrous, sure, but it was right. Like two universes crashing. Destroying each other with every kiss and every bruise. 
For the first time in your meaningless life, you had truly understood what "happiness" felt like. 
For the first time in his endless life, Sukuna had truly understood what "intimacy" felt like.
Was it wrong to kiss you? For a fraction of a second Sukuna hesitated, blood tinged lips hovering millimeters away from your own stone-set ones. The moon's cursed rays acting like an unnoticed barrier, keeping two things out of each other's grasp. His lips curled back revealing two rows of knife-like teeth. The last resort, a final hope that you'd run away, that you'd act somewhat normal. The king of curses, the evil among men, didn't mind your lack of regularity. He didn't mind how you leaned into every bitter strike, every painful display of fading affection . He adored how you merely giggled as he slashed open your uncharged skin, creating slits for your blood to spill through, onto his waiting tongue. He admired your lifelessness, the way you radiated death. 
Oh, how you filled him with a startling aftershock every time he touched you. Every time his tongue lapped at your bleeding skin he'd feel the sort of electric shocks that came after the storms had passed. Your body had no shape, it molded to his touch, turning his favorite shades of red, with just a little pressure. 
But sometimes, in fleeting, endless seconds. He wished he had a name for what you two were. You weren't his per se, you could never be his. Being his would indicate that he cared about you, or heck even loved you and that could never be true. The king of curses did not love, nor care. He merely tolerated you; you fascinated him, that's all. 
It had been many moons since he first found you in that no-name village. Months upon months since you'd been by his side. You'd watched as he'd destroyed cities, helped him even. Eyes never shedding a single tear. Mouth never uttering a single protest. 
The two of you had become the best, the King of curses and the Queen of nothingness. With the dying speed of laboring bees, Sukuna had carved himself inside of you. Twisted emptiness into flower-covered destruction. Into molten gold lava. 
Leaving you with wounds that were stuck in a cycle of healing and opening. Until they began to harden like his. Until the need for spilled blood lingered on your tongue like the burn of boiled tea. Until under your nails were coated in a decaying crust of dried blood. Sukuna hadn't turned you into a monster, he'd simply showed you the powers that came with your apathy. With a heart as torn and cold as yours, it was a shame to let it go to waste. 
"You're not half bad," his tone is never approving. It's always laced with a strictness that keeps you nailed into place. His words are oxymorons sounding like praise, but once you peel back the lather layers they're just taunts in disguise. 
You don't answer, words die on your tongue as quickly as they are born. Sukuna can't even remember what your voice sounds like outside of small whispers in heat filled nights. 
 However, to the two of you, things like that didn't matter. Your lack of being even semi-alive and Sukuna's endless abuse had become a norm for the two of you. Where else were a two-faced monster and a lifeless girl going to find love anyway? 
Sukuna was all you had, all you ever had. You'd die for him, kill for him, turn into anything for him. Because he gave you life. 
A purpose to life, made out of raging fires and endless screams. A life fabricated from the pain and suffering of others. That was what the king of curses had given you, all wrapped in a human skin parchment. Maybe that's why all logic withered away the first night he kissed you, maybe from the first second that you sensed his presence you had finally gained a reason to be alive. 
Whoever said the end of the world was beautiful? Whoever said the final days would be bright and glowing and pure? 
It's just a blaze of stray flames and red crystal droplets that may or may not be your blood. Funny, Sukuna had always thought that your blood would be as black as the moonless sky, not a mundane red like everyone else's. He'd expected a grander death from you. Some sort of black hole opening to swallow the world whole. Not just another corpse motionless in a pool of their own blood. 
Although he's not one to talk. His own 'death' is lingering on the horizon. Sukuna's head tilts back looking for the flashing jujutsu sorcerers. 
He smirks, fangs sticking out at odd angles. Your voice is sweet, for the first time in forever he'd even dare say it held some semblance of emotion. 
What that emotion is, he doubts he knows or even really cares. He'd long since stopped trying to identify all those "feelings" and their associated names. 
His orange eyes lock with your fading orbs, one last time. No, not the last time, just the final time in this lifetime. He's sure he's going to see you again. In any other life, Sukuna knows he'll be able to recognize you despite whatever flesh suit you'd be wearing. 
"Shh little one," he's halfway gone before he finishes his sentence, leaving you to relish in his memory in your final moments. "We'll see each other once more, someday in another life..."
His four eyes lock on the approaching sorcerers. He finds it humorous how desperate they look. How alive and ready they seem, such a stark contrast to your ever lifeless face and dead eyes, it repulses him. 
"Or maybe in one of the circles of hell." 
The flames encircling his fingers remind him of the heat your body radiated in the dead of night. The crack from bones hum as they meet his knuckles, flash memories of your days wasted together doing nothing and everything. 
The two of you will meet once more, he's sure of it. After all...
Monsters never die. 
How could something that was never even born in the first place, ever die?
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