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#*the arcane files
canibeanythingelse · 8 months
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arcane incantation
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catastofie · 2 months
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sinking together 🫧
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mazikomo · 2 years
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Silco & the people in his life
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ghostlysickle · 26 days
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Last night, his hair wouldn't load in while I was playing Pearl
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revelisms · 2 days
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Excerpt: Six Years
Vi wrestles with the realization of how much her sister has changed—and how many unwanted parallels she sees between Silco and their father. From a work-in-progress set after heron blue.
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In some ways, she was still so familiar. Her perpetual nest of a living condition and geriatric sense of humor; her inability (refusal) to tend to her hair, herself. Yet, in so many ways, she's nothing like the girl Vi remembers. 
A shell. A stranger.
Jinx—a name that doesn't belong to her sister, that christens a girl who spits at the name Powder; whose body bares sinew and steel, wears yellowed stains at her chipped fingernails and speaks a drawl decades beyond her years—isn't a child, anymore. 
Eleven years, enmeshed in each others' days and nights; eleven, that Vi had always been with her. 
Powder's rock and shield. Powder's everything.  
Then the cannery had happened. Stillwater had happened. That monster had happened—
A monster whose gait she could pick out from a crowd: hears prowling over the floors now, above the jukebox and the metal tickings and her sister's self-directed rambling—a heavy-heeled th-thumping up the varnished steps, his coat a devil's whisper against the walls.
Vi steels herself. Beside her, Jinx prattles on. 
"Y'ever thought of fighting in a ring, sis?"
Th-thump, th-thumping over the dark floors.  
"You'd be the scrappiest scrapper in the Underground. Bet they'd call ya the Red Devil—or Lead Lettie—or Sourmouth Suckerpunch—"
She stares, unblinking, plastic squeezed beneath her thumb. Through the sliver of her sister's cracked door, a polish-slick boot wades through the shadows. Stills.  
"What you really need," Jinx says, with a lax crook of her screwdriver, "is a pair of Vandie's old gauntlets—that'll set'em right."
Vi swallows. The hall's dark devours the wraith on the other side of the door: shrouds all but the unearthly cat's-eye that tips over the leather at his shoulder, burning like a funeral pyre over a rotting corpse. 
"Yeah," she says, stiffly. Comb-teeth bite into her palm. "That's all I need."
His stare lingers—three-four-five beats—before it flits to the floor, trails over the blue tangled within her fingers, traces its mess back to the girl lounged beside her. Jinx stays worlds away in her tinkering, head lolled against the floor. She wrenches another screw into place.
"It's late," Jinx huffs, without needing a glance. "I know."
Silence, for a moment. Then Silco agrees, "It's late, indeed."
Jinx scowls. "One'ta talk."
If the shadows weren't playing a trick on her, Vi might have thought he'd smirked. But that bastard never smiled—never did anything but glare over his paperwork, around the vile plumes of his cigars: eyeing her hyena of a sister like a stray in need of a meal, and Vi like a bull ready to charge. 
Signing a blood-pact to his enterprise (their city's scheme for fiscal independence; her sister's unfathomable choice for a homestead) had done nothing in the way of trust. He'd taken an overseer's scrutiny to her, from the day she'd put her name in ink: a dead-eyed panopticon hounding her every waking hour, as though she'd never left that molding cell.
On one hand, a part of her reasoned, he had a right—sizing up her methods, as he would any new recruit; strategizing where best to slot her in the arteries of a drug-machine already years on the march. A more cynical thread knew he was laying his cards flat and playing the long game. Slouching back, idly, with eyes unblinking, to find any reason to put her under his heel.
She stares at the unmarred side of his face: a dim halo in a coal-blackened sea.
Eleven years that she'd been with Powder.
Six—nearly seven, now—that Jinx has had this snake at her side.
From the doorway, his shadow gravels, "I take it you'll be off soon." 
"Soon as the bell chimes." Jinx flits her wrist, pinkie-promise. "Not a rhyme later—cross my hearts and hope to snore."
Silco makes a low chuff at that: strange, quiet, bemused. A not-quite laugh, like Dad used to do. 
For a moment, a breath tangled in her throat, Vi sees him. 
He was tower of a man, thin as a string. His voice itched with smoke-pocked lungs and dreams that glittered like the stars. He kept chewing tobacco sweetened with cinnamon under his tongue, and he wore the mines on his clothes; gave hugs that made one's soul feel like it'd been wrapped in down-feathers; made the moonlight seem like nothing more than hand-sculpted glass: some beautiful thing he'd spooled on a thread and hung up there for all to see.
He'd been everything to her—her image of whistle-toothed optimism, her laughter, her guiding light—until he wasn't.
Freckles smattering her cheeks, her unruly hair the color of redmilk tea, a younger version of herself had shrieked over the idea of having to share her plates, pillows, toys with some snot-nosed little girl—a blue-haired, rambunctious, wailing thing—a sister. She'd stomped her feet and thrown fits over it. Told Dad, flat out: I don't wanna have her!
He'd stood slouched over her, hands bracketed at his thin waist, a glitter in his pale eyes, and chuffed. You'll do great, Lettie. His smile always pulled a touch crooked at one corner: a sincerity that, without fail, made her believe him. 
She'd always believed him, then. 
She was too young, too naïve not to.
Staring into an empty threshold, into a shadowed hall, a ghost of footsteps thudding down the dark floors, Vi fights to forget their father's voice. To block out the echo of a rasp no part of her wants to compare to it. To ignore the remnants of smoke on the air—tower of a man, thin as a string, heels heavy-footed from those damn mines—that belonged to a man she'd sooner wring the neck of. Wouldn't dare put in the same vein of everything their father was.
(Complicated. Self-loathing. Hellishly tempered. Kind.)
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ten characters ❧ ten fandoms ❧ ten tags
tagged by @thegreatdivide, @dani-the-goblin and @luvwich. Thank you so much 😊
Judy Alvarez - Cyperpunk 2077
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2. Ellie Williams - The Last of Us
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3. Vi - Arcane
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4. Max Caulfield - Life is Strange
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5. Don Karnage - Tale Spin
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6. Dana Scully - The X-Files
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7. Leliana - Dragon Age: Origins
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8. Oberyn Martell - Game of Thrones
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9. Mr. Davis (Henry Fonda) - 12 Angry Men
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10. Éowyn - The Lord of the Rings
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Thank you for tagging me <3
Gonna tag a few of my lovely mutuals, NO PRESSURE, NO EXPECTATION: @jlovely913, @deadletterpoets, @emstefani, @moonbiscuitsims, @moonlovingbutch, @haveyouseenmymarbles, @wtfjd95, @retinalense51515fps, @jimitherainbow, @peaches-n-screem, @therealemilyalter, @7bethblackheart9, @pholcidae3
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mmartos · 1 year
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Shower Thoughts
Silco x f!Reader Summary: It was supposed to be a relaxing morning shower, until Silco decided you needed company. Rating: Mature (18+) Words: 2.3k Warnings/Additional Tags: nudity (showering together), referenced sex, silco is a perverted bastard but we knew that already, inappropriate (but consensual) touching, MDNI
You sigh in relief under the hot water, warmth and pressure working the sleep out of your body. It’s still early, but the day ahead promises to be a long one, and thoughts of all the things that need to be done flit around you like the shower’s steam.
You’re to cross the bridge into Piltover, for the purpose of meeting with some potential business associates. Their names aren’t familiar to you, but you have it on good authority that they’re bankrupt only in the way of morality. Still, it probably won’t do much to stop them looking down their noses at you; a Piltie’s a Piltie, at the end of the day.
Just the thought of having to deal with self-aggrandised Topsiders all day resets the tension in your body. 
“I’ve never seen someone so offended by a shower wall.”
Silco’s voice interrupts your brooding as he steps in beside you, hair tousled from sleep (and lack thereof). His hands reach for your waist, clearly intent on stealing the good morning kiss you had deprived him of when you slipped out of his hold to get in the shower, but you’re quicker than that.
“Oh, no.” You point an accusatory finger, putting as much distance as the shower allows between yourself and his hands. “You stay away from me.”
He pauses in brief confusion before a smirk curls his lips and his eyes rake up and down your naked form with less subtlety than a drunk Zaunite in a Topsider’s mansion.
“I’m sorry, is something funny?”
He shrugs as if he has no clue what you could be talking about. “That’s a far cry from what you were saying earlier.”
Asshole.
“If by ‘earlier’ you mean, like, three hours ago — and my eyes are up here, by the way — then whose fault is that?”
“Yours, darling.” His voice is rife with smugness and thick with remnants of sleep, an ample distraction to his moving closer. “You were the one asking for it, after all.”
You shoot him a thoroughly unimpressed look, sharp enough to slice through the steam like a harpoon, though it does nothing to stop his hands curling around your waist and pulling you flush against him.
“Begging for it, actually,” he adds, wholly immune to your morning mood.
“This is why I always sleep in, you’re a pain in the mornings,” you grumble, refusing to let his low voice and gentle touch affect you.
His fingers trace a path down your thighs. “Surely there’s other reasons.”
It goes without saying that there are indeed other reasons as to why you tend to sleep through the mornings; and were it not for your schedule, today would have been no different. You knew you would regret not telling Silco to keep his hands to himself last night, but credit where credit is due, the man makes a very compelling case.
And it seems he’s interested in a rehearing, if the way his fingers press into your hips and his mouth trails down your neck is anything to go by.
“Here—” you shove a bottle of shampoo into his otherwise preoccupied hands, lest you fail the same lesson twice. “Since you’re so keen on using them, you can wash my hair.”
“As you wish, darling.” He places another kiss on the hinge of your jaw before uncapping the bottle. “Are your arms tired?”
You mumble your confirmation and he hums in thought, smiling like he’s just heard a joke you’re not in on.
“What?” you ask cautiously.
“If I remember correctly, your legs were under far more strain than your arms.”
“Silco, I swear, one more stupid comment and you’ll be blowing soap bubbles out of your cigars for the rest of the week.”
His smirk widens in the face of your impassive gaze, taking the opportunity to steal a kiss before turning you around to work on your hair.
“You didn’t deserve that kiss,” you huff.
“No? I would argue that I very much earned it.”
“For washing my hair?”
“For how many times I had you screaming my praises last night,” he says lowly, mouth grazing the shell of your ear, and you have half a mind to turn around and scrub that stupidly self-satisfied smile off his face.
“Y-yeah, well thanks to you I’m gonna be late to meet with those Piltie pricks now.”
“I hope you’re not planning on greeting them like that,” he says, massaging your scalp in a way that threatens to coax you back to sleep.
“Hmm? When did you get so defensive of Topsiders?”
“On the contrary, I can think of many worse names. But directly referring to them as such may hinder your chances of acquiring their partnership.”
You can’t help but snort a laugh at that, shutting your eyes when he begins to rinse the shampoo out. “‘Partnership’ is an interesting choice of words,” you comment while reaching for the soap, “considering we’re gonna go behind their backs before their signatures have even dried.”
“Let me, lovely,” he offers, taking the soap to lather it across your back. “But they will be none the wiser, thanks to that silver tongue of yours.”
You give in to temptation — just a touch — and allow yourself to lean against Silco’s front as he runs soapy hands gently up your arms and down your sides. “Really, Sil? Flattery at this hour?”
“I’m merely making an observation,” he says slyly.
“That’s assuming they won’t be pissed from… um, what are you doing?”
“I thought you would be aware by now that I never do things by halves.”
“You know, normally I’d be inclined to believe you,” you say, eyebrows knitting together as your eyes flick downwards. “But I’m having trouble with that at the moment.”
“And why is that?” Silco asks, uncharacteristically innocent.
“Because your hands are very preoccupied with my boobs.”
“I’m simply making sure I haven’t missed a spot.”
“Give me the soap, Silco.”
He huffs a laugh at your demand, felt more than heard from his rumbling chest before hands slide indulgently to your hips, revisiting fresh bruises as he turns you around. “Or else?”
“Or else you won’t see me topless again til those Pilties realise they’ve been screwed over.”
The spark of humour in his eyes flickers, shadowed over by a look you’re more than familiar with. “Threats don’t suit you, sweetheart,” he whispers, grip tightening just enough to communicate a warning that doesn’t need to be spoken.
It’s the difference between the two of you.
“F-fine,” you stutter. “Then how about consequences?”
You shiver at the feeling of cool tiles against your back, then again at the finger trailing a line upwards, passing your torso, sternum and neck before its journey comes to an end at your chin.
“I would wager you know a thing or two about consequences,” Silco murmurs, lips curling into a smirk as they hover over yours.
You match his salacious smile, leaning forward until even a wisp of steam would struggle to slip between the two of you. His good eye offers you a flash of green-hued satisfaction before it flutters shut, and you waste no time in clasping your hands over his.
In a flash, you’re slipping out of his hold and under his arm, leaving him face-to-face with the wall. “I was more so referring to the consequences of a failed business venture,” you tease, triumphantly flaunting the bar of soap you had snatched from the holder. “Sweetheart.”
The look he gives you is almost enough to send the water reeling back through the shower head. You can’t help but laugh, even when his hand extends slowly in a silent demand.
You go to hand him the soap, smile widening when you pull it back before he can grasp it. “Uh-uh. Only if you promise to behave.”
“Someone is very brave this morning.”
“Well, someone else is very horny this morning.”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time you’re begging me to let you finish.”
You don’t miss the way his mouth hooks just so at the crack in your composure. Tentatively, you place the soap in his waiting hand. “Fine. Please behave, so I can get this hellish job over and done with, sir,” you concede, imbuing as much sarcasm as you can into the last word.
“Better.” Silco places a kiss to the corner of your mouth before leaning down to run the soap over your legs. “Though I recommend you use up the rest of that attitude across the bridge. For your own good.”
“O-oh, don’t worry,” you say, praying he doesn’t pick up on how your voice wavers. “They’re gonna hate Trenchers even more by the time I’m done with them.”
“May I remind you the point of this is to gain their assets?”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun, right?”
“As much fun as one can have Topside,” he says, hands moving up to your thighs. “Run me through your plan again.”
“You don’t trust me to remember? What happened to my silver tongue?”
“I’m afraid I may have exhausted it after—”
You cut him off with a disdainful look, rolling your eyes at his coy smile. “You know, you’re not half as funny as you think you are.
“And to ease your concerns,” you continue, fixing him a deeply unimpressed look as he stands over you once more, “I’m gonna talk them into signing a dud mine contract in exchange for cargo ships. After a few weeks, a not-so-accidental cave-in — courtesy of Jinx — and thanks to some fine print conditions, we still get to keep our end. Happy?”
“Thrilled.”
“I’m so glad you appr—” you cut yourself off, wrenching his hand from between your thighs and holding it to his face indignantly.
“Is something wrong?”
“This is not behaving.”
“I thought I told you,” he gives you a look that could bring a blush to the Devil’s cheeks. “I don’t make a habit of doing things carelessly, and you left quite a mess here.”
Deciding you’ve had your fill of his sudden possession by a teenage boy, you reach for the tap. His fingers wrap around your wrist the moment you graze the cool metal and the bathroom spins around you moments before you find yourself pressed against the wall once again.
“Leaving so soon?” he all but purrs by your ear.
“Yes.”
“That’s quite unfortunate, because as it happens, my schedule is remarkably clear all morning.”
“Oh, how convenient for you,” you say, tone dripping with a derision that Silco happily ignores in favour of trailing kisses down your neck.
“Silco, I’m serious.”
His hand finds your hair, pulling until he has the access he desires.
“I really need to g-go,” you say under a hitched breath, barely managing to convince yourself.
Teeth find your jugular, leaving a mark that is promptly soothed over by the strokes of his tongue.
This time, your mind refuses to conjure up any words, instead leaving you with what can only be described as frazzled static. Silco takes note immediately, and the last thing you see before your eyes flutter shut is the knowing grin on his face, accompanied by large hands unsubtly moving your hips against his.
“I find an impatient Topsider is much easier to barter with,” Silco murmurs against your jawline.
“You’re just… making stuff up now.”
“On the contrary, darling. Once their patience is burnt up, they are much easier to convince and manip—”
Silco’s good eye snaps open in highly unconventional shock, pupil shrinking until the green of its iris almost drowns it. All in all, a very amusing response to the borderline arctic water flowing out of the shower head.
You immediately take advantage of his shocked state and free yourself from the cage of his arms, fingers still wrapped around the tap as you shut the water off. It’s a wonder how distracted the man can get by his own voice.
Wide as ever, his gaze flicks from the tap, to your hand, to the self-satisfied smile stretching from cheek-to-cheek; good eye narrowing when he realises your ploy.
“You,” he says in a low tone fraught with promise, “are going to regret that.”
The smile stays on your face as you slide the shower door open, ignoring him completely as you step out. “Maybe, but I’m sure the contract I come back with will atone for it.”
Like a magnet, his hands are on your waist the moment your feet touch the bath mat. “A contract can be signed at any time,” he hums against your shoulder.
“No time like the present,” you rebut, reaching for a towel, but he beats you to it. 
“You’re uncharacteristically cruel today, my love.”
”How so?”
He wraps the towel around your back, tugging the sides until you’re pulled towards him. “First I am denied an adequate morning greeting, and now you deprive me of a proper goodbye?”
In truth, the temptation of leaving a few big-headed Pilties waiting in favour of spending the morning underneath Silco is much harder to resist than you’re letting on. And the combination of wet, unkempt hair; water droplets creating a path you’re desperate to follow; and a look full of unsweet promises does not make things any easier.
But you’ll be damned if you spend a day in Piltover for nothing.
“How rude of me,” you purr, walking your fingers up his chest. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”
Silco’s eyes darken as you cup his face, so accustomed to victory. “However you like, darling.”
Your hand skirts his hip, just barely ghosting a trail downwards, and his good eye shuts as he leans forward in anticipation.
You’re at the threshold of the bathroom door — towel in hand — when he realises he’s been outplayed for the third time in one morning.
“Bye, Silco,” you call out cheerily. “I hope you and your left hand have a splendid morning together.”
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uniquedeerwitch · 2 years
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This one looks so weird to me because I tried to avoid using the undo button as much as possible and it was a pain in the ass.
Edit: I kinda gave him mom hair…
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cage-cat-yt · 8 months
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Art dump but I'm eepy and it's lightninging outside
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I ran out of tags but I think the fandoms are all here so the image description has specific things! I'm watching wonder pets and listening to Jeremy by Pearl Jam. Definitely recommend, but the song is based on an irl tragedy and the music video made me cry lol. Also DG likes Pearl Jam cause 90s grunge.
Anyway, thanks for reading! Remember to hydrate and I hope you have a good day :)
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darkredmage · 3 months
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tmw a tornado spawns on your brig (i keep forgetting to post my art here lo)
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shimmershots · 3 months
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❝ GO AWAY ! just [...] you're not real , so i don't have to listen to you ! you're just another VOICE ; another GHOST lingering in the back of my skull. you're just that much LOUDER than the rest .... ❞
@gauntlets-shot dialog starter call ! ( still accepting. )
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divorceconnoisseur · 3 months
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sitting here pure fuming abt file naming conventions. as one does
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wethekidnappers · 9 months
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Hop on AO
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vapormage · 1 year
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been playing Arcane Odyssey roblox (lovingly referred to as Roblox Boat Game). here's my evil character, his name is Wendell and he is trying *so* hard to get a villainous reputation. wants so badly to enter the assassin syndicates base without getting attacked for Being A Good Guy.
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gideonisms · 9 months
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It's true, I find it interesting that in some fandoms you can just browse ao3 and easily stumble on something fantastic and in others you can't find shit with a find sieve. Anyway here are my top 3 caitvi authors: Misthios, featuring a modern mma au, a stillwater au, a regency au, and a 'fucking the thief that broke into my house' au; the characterization and dialogue are delicious and the writing is always full of heart, and the trans rep is so good and authentic. TheHomelyBadger, featuring a contractor vi au, a bodyguard noir-ish au, a hockey au, and many an excellent smut fic; there's a really engaging specificity to each of the settings that makes them feel real, the writing is incredibly fun and there's a certain edge I enjoy. paxbanana, featuring a truly sprawling, intricate, mesmerizing canon-compliant casefic-esque au that centers the relationship conflict and just crystallizes the character flaws. The characterization is so beautifully fleshed out, deep and rounded, the conflicts are SO human and sharp and affecting, the stakes are real, the emotion is staggering, the way the writing doesn't fucking flinch, I'm obsessed. But! The politics are terrible. Big copaganda. The writing is just soooo good that I can't not recommend.
Hi anon, thanks for the recs!! I believe this is my second person reccing thehomelybadger if I'm remembering correctly, so it seems like their fics are well liked! I will have to give these a look 👀 As for copaganda, god (hypothetical) bless I probably will not be reading that but as a fan of many a casefile/monster of the week show I know the struggle jgjjllk
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tykobrian · 2 years
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I am the monster you created.
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