#How To Use CBD

[cbdnorthcanada]

CBDA vs CBD: What's the Difference?

CBDA vs CBD: CBDA and CBD are similar and belong to the same family; they have different interactions with the body caused by their different chemical structures. Explore the the Differences, benefits and use.

Among the growing world of wellness and natural remedies, CBD has gained popularity and is praised for its numerous advantages. Yet, there’s a lesser-known compound making waves: CBDA. The argument of CBDA vs. CBD gains popularity by the day as many people appreciate the subtle differences between closely related compounds. Though both provide distinct benefits, consideration of the differences…

[biblicalhorror]

Thinking about one of the loser men I dated directly post-college who, after I showed them Dirty Computer [the emotion picture] by Janelle Monae, said they "prefer rap that has something to say"

[leesh]

seeing people on twitter say they don’t want harry to tour stadiums in the US because of traffic is so funny to me like it took me nearly three hours to leave the slane car park and i walked the streets of bologna alone at 4am post reggio and am fully traumatised by it but seeing harry in a stadium (or big ass field in those two cases) is absolutely life changing. the pure energy and charisma is insane

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

why is google's AI being a little creepy

i googled 'shops like the body shop nz' and it srsly responded with 'In [my town name], [my postcode], similar shops-' like DID I ASK FOR YOU TO TRACK MY LOCATION?? I JUST ASKED FOR SHOPS ANYWHERE IN THIS COUNTRY

[wellthatsclever]

\

[vaurien]

ordered some CBD flower samples to try!

[hemppharmacist]

CBD Tinctures vs. Gummies - Which is the Right Option for You?

Explore the key differences between CBD gummies and tinctures in this informative guide from The Hemp Pharmacist. Learn about their benefits, usage, and which option may be best suited for your lifestyle, whether you're seeking convenience, dosage control, or faster effects.

[nufarmcbdgummie]

NuFarm CBD Gummies Promotes Healthy Sleep

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[sydneycbdrepaircentre]

❤ Apple explains how to use Do Not Disturb on iPhone

Do Not Disturb mode lets you work or have fun without distractions from your iPhone.     When you want to work or watch a movie without distractions, turn on Do Not Disturb on your iPhone. A new Apple video shows how to activate this mode. The activation process is simple enough that this Apple Support video mostly serves as a reminder that Do Not Disturb is available. How to turn on Do Not…

[anas-aspiration]

Shotgun

A/n (middle picture from iwishyouloveo on pinterest, they have really cute edits for arcane characters)

Summary: Vi invited you over to try a new strain she got a hold of and you guys shotgun it. this is kind of like head cannons idk haha

Warnings: Weed, nsfw at the end

𖦹She’d text you in the evening asking if you if you wanna smoke with her

Vi : babe, fucking finally got my hands on girl scout cookie😇, -6:02 wanna take a few hits or whatt

The fuck😭😭 -6:04

Vi: What? -6:04

What is girl scout cookie? - 6:04

Vi : It’s the strain I told you ab. -6:05

Ohh bet, CBD?? - 6:05

Vi : THC and CBD 🩷 - 6:06

I’m outside🩷 - 6:17

𖦹She’d only get the best to share with you, in fear of buying fake shit and getting you laced or sick

𖦹She always uses the ashtray you decorated for her with your initials written on it and violet hearts drawn all over

𖦹When you first take a hit she gets worried about letting you take more than three, whether or not you had a high tolerence

𖦹Eyes get super droopy and pretty after it hits and she just looks at you with puppy dog eyes talking about how greatful she is for you

𖦹 She’ll stare at you like she just discovered the sun and say “C’mere“ so softly

𖦹Takes a hit and hands immedietly go to the side of your face as she kisses you while blowing the smoke into your mouth

𖦹She never wants you to smoke any other way again

𖦹Kisses slow and very messy

𖦹Every five minutes “how are you feeling baby?“ “Mm i love you“ and non-stop touching

𖦹Once your down from the high and feeling melancholic and chill she takes you to stargaze on the roof and talk about her childhood and yours

𖦹“Do you think we would have been in love back then too, you know, if we knew each other?“

Nsfw

𖦹The only type of sex she wants to have while high is when she’s eating you or scissoring with you

𖦹Once again verry slow but messy. Loving, soft and kind.

𖦹Kisses to her destination

𖦹Aswell as kisses on your boobs

A/n! Go girl give us nothing😊!! Sorry this is short. I just had to make one like this I love dat za

[woodsfae]

For usamericans who may not know how to support decolonization and indigenous people in their every-day lives, may I suggest checking this list of native-owned businesses, curated and maintained by indigenous folks. There's food, candles, cbd pre-rolls, clothes, jewelry, hats, baby things, handicrafts, art, and hundreds of other useful and wonderful things. I check this list before I buy non-native owned as often as I can.

Also check out the native-owned (pulitzer-prize winner Louise Erdrich started it!) bookstore and press Milkweed Editions (dot org) for an amazing selection of books by indigenous authors. I recommend Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer (a collection of essays that will change your thinking if your mind is open at all) that's great for sitting down to read for bite-sized chunks. For book recommendations, check out this infographic!

Do you own property and want to support landback but still need a place to live? Odds are good that there's established precedence in your area to transfer its jurisduction to a local tribe and pay your land taxes and etc to them instead of the settler government!

Here is a list of charities and fundraisers for indigenous support.

Other ways to educate yourself and learn what indigenous people are working on nationally and locally is to follow indigenous people online! Many Native peoples on various social medias tag with #indigenous, #native, and by looking at those you will find many other tags and people to follow.

If you have extra cash, consider paying indigenous people's bail, donating to some of the causes linked above, or look for local initiatives to support in your own community!

[julymusings]

Jason "California Sober" Todd who 100% smokes weed to take the edge off, per your suggestion. He tries it and it's such a game-changer. It feels like a cheat code. Constant soreness and/or chronic pain paired with PTSD— you know he's blazing it almost every night after he gets in from patrol. How else is he supposed to fall asleep? He sits out on the fire escape after stripping his armor and dressing any wounds, head leaned back against the brick wall and eyes closed with the blunt between his fingers. A pleasant numbing sensation flows through his body as his muscles loosen and the heaviness in his bones subsides. His mind clears of all unwanted thoughts and memories, the perpetual static in his head quieting enough for him to pass out for a solid 6-7 hours.

He does his research, familiarizing himself with the science. He knows Indica is better for winding down after a long night, and Sativa is helpful when he needs that extra push to get out of bed. (Both have their aphrodisiacal benefits too, he discovers, but he tries to focus his research on pain relief, no matter how much that subtopic intrigues him.) He tries several CBD oils until he finds the perfect concentration and strain blend for his muscle and joint pain. Oil massages become a staple of your routine. When the pain is too much, you lie him on his stomach in bed, straddling his hips as he makes a pillow with his arms. After warming the oil between your palms, you knead his shoulders and back, working out the knots and alleviating the tension. Multiple times he's fallen asleep mid-massage, something that is so sweet to you that you end the night with a kiss to his bare back, right between his shoulder blades, before draping a blanket over him and turning off the lights. Sometimes it takes all your weight channeled into one elbow to achieve adequate pressure, and he's gritting his teeth and squeezing the comforter as you press hard on his back, but the cooling effect of the oil matched with the sudden lightness of his muscles makes it all worth it for him.

(The squirming and high-pitched, breathy noises he tries so hard to suppress when you work your way down to his thighs make it all worth it for you, too.)

During a routine grocery trip, while he's busied with the spice racks, you wander further down the aisle when a specific row of boxes catches your eye— brownie mix. After doing the necessary research, you prepare the cannabis butter in advance, hoping to use it very soon. But with vigilante life getting in the way, it stays in the freezer for a few weeks before you finally find the time.

Cut to your next date night where you're rained in by classic Gotham weather, full on one of his home-cooked meals, and a little too excited by having him home with you tonight. You crack the eggs and stir in the powder and he watches over the butter on the stove, ensuring it doesn't exceed the temperature restriction while he melts it. You sit on the floor in front of the oven while the brownies bake, lightly massaging his stiff neck as you wait. They come out delicious, of course, and you spend the evening lazily making out in your relaxed high (clearly his research paid off) and ending the night in each other's arms where he has the best sleep of his life— they were so good you barely made it to the bed, just passing out on top of the covers. Unfortunately, as knocked out as you were, neither of you had the clarity to notice Steph and Tim climbing through the window in search of spare tactical gear and helping themselves to the leftovers on the counter. Suffice it to say, after a string of long, angry voicemails from Alfred about why his siblings came home giggly and spaced out with the urge to eat Bruce out of house and home, you and Jason decide it's best to stick to rolling up.

this idea came to me in honor of.....

yayyy!! ty LMFAOO

(pausing my hiatus for 5 minutes to post this before dropping off the grid again. my finals aren't done yet but i sure am.)

disclaimer this is not me telling you that weed will solve all your problems. idek anything about weed this is just stuff that came up upon a quick google search

[crippleprophet]

let me open by saying I Know How This Sounds (fem whose undergraduate chemistry professor recommended ze take turmeric to cure zyr arthritis, etc) so no hard feelings if you keep scrolling, but hopefully folks who know me know i'm speaking honestly about my experiences, even if those don't end up being the same for other people. so!

2 Tbsp of a common kitchen spice is doing as much or more to manage my ME/CFS as any of my meds or self-medicating drugs

@lakeeffectbitch outlines a way of trying this with a control in their reddit post (link); i just went directly to the one they thought might work so i'll put my experiences & the science/theory behind this under a cut for folks who want to avoid potential placebo effect :)

i'll get more specific about this in the "spoilers" but please be aware, especially folks with diabetes or other blood sugar conditions, that this substance may cause a blood sugar drop. it's less likely at this dose but probably keep a sugary snack on hand just in case

if you experience post-exertional malaise & want to try this but don't have spare money to spend on spices feel free to dm me & i'll see if i can help!

my experience:

i took 2 Tbsp ground sumac mixed with warm water on February 11. i tried taking it with a straw first because that's what my colonoscopy prep had said would make that go down easier but because the sumac particles were so big they didn't want to remain suspended & trying to get them in the straw was difficult, which then made it harder to swallow without, yknow, noticing that you're slurping down sediment

what worked better was getting the powder wet, putting a big clump of it on my tongue, then swallowing it with water like a pill

within about half an hour of taking the sumac it was like my fatigue just faded around me where i stood. it dissolved to the background & when i thought "oh i want to do this" or "i should do that" suddenly i found myself just doing it. i had spent the past week at least bedridden except for the bathroom, & though i took the sumac on a better day, i'd been planning to return to bed with a snack after taking it.

instead, i made myself lunch, and i sat on the couch to eat it. all of this was without taking an edible that day; usually i've gotta take at least 25mg delta 8 + 25mg cbd to even consider sitting on the couch. also, it was storming.

from my write-up the day of: "everything felt very sharp & clear & lucid." i washed the dishes from my lunch. all of these activities were about 2 hours, & at that point i emphatically needed a nap. waking up felt like after taking a muscle relaxer & sleeping: my muscles were more relaxed, & my whole body felt like it'd gotten a bit of a break

i've taken sumac at least 8 times since then on at least 5 different days (this time by modifying this sumac tart recipe to include a lot of sumac powder in the crust, which has been much more enjoyable than the Glass O' Sediment lmao) & adjusting for factors like weather, the effect has been comparable every time:

i watched Inception on the couch with my husband, & understood when she explained things to me

i watched leverage on the couch all day when it was below freezing

i worked a bit on fanfics i've barely been able to touch in a year

i "meal prepped" measuring spices, gathering ingredients, & soaking beans to make beans & rice in the instant pot later that day. i literally can't remember the last time i was able to use my instant pot, after thinking about it i think it was when i made palak paneer last summer, but that was a one-off special occasion thing, i've used it maybe 3 other times since developing ME

i wrote this post

the science:

okay a lot of this shit was over my head before i developed ME so i'm gonna be summarizing at my level lol, look to @lakeeffectbitch for a higher-level analysis

but what i do know! (all images from "The malic acid inhibiting inflammation in ankylosing spondylitis by interfering M1 macrophage polarization" by Ji et al., January 2025)

sumac contains high levels of malic acid, which is found in certain fruits (apples, peaches, etc)

the drugs.com page classifies malic acid as an inactive ingredient, so there are no known drug interactions

mice with ankylosing spondylitis had lower levels of peripheral malic acid than control mice

ID: bar graph showing mice with AS had about 0.03 micromoles per milliliter of peripheral malic acid, compared to the control mice level of over 0.2 micromoles per milliliter. the difference is labeled significant via asterisks. end ID

mice with higher malic acid concentrations had lower ESR and CRP (inflammation markers)

ID: two graphs showing lines with a downward slope. the top graph, ESR versus malic acid concentration, is labeled: r=-0.6802, 95% confidence interval =-0.8843 – -0.2578, p=-0.0053. the graph shows ESR, an inflammation marker, decreasing as malic acid concentration increases. the bottom graph, CRP versus malic acid concentration, is labeled: r=-0.6068, 95% confidence interval =-0.8537 – -0.1371, p=-0.0165. the graph shows CRP, an inflammation marker, decreasing as malic acid concentration increases. end ID

mice treated with malic acid had lower levels of TNF-alpha than the mice with untreated ankylosing spondylitis. humira & similar biologics that treat autoimmune diseases are TNF-alpha blockers

ID: a bar graph of relative mRNA expression of TNF-alpha. M0, the control mice, has a relative expression of 1. M1, the mice with ankylosing spondylitis that did not receive treatment, has a relative expression of slightly less than 4.5. M1+MA, the mice with ankylosing spondylitis who received the malic acid treatment, has a relative expression slightly less than 3. this indicates that the mice treated with malic acid had lower expression of TNF-alpha than the untreated mice. asterisks between M0 and M1 and between M1 and M1+MA indicate significance. end ID

the mitochondrial function of M2 macrophages in mice treated with malic acid "was significantly enhanced"

analysis of the mice's spinal tissue blew my fucking socks off. trying not to jump to conclusions & i know journal articles are full of errors but that looks potentially disease-modifying.

ID: a 5x3 presentation of samples of mouse spinal tissue. the control mice, which are healthy, have thick, undamaged, glowing tissue. the mice with ankylosing spondylitis have thin, curved, cracked-looking tissue. the mice treated with celecoxib, a common prescription NSAID for arthritis, appear very similar to the untreated mice. the mice treated with 250mg/kg of malic acid per day have tissue in between the untreated and healthy appearances; the tissue is "glowing" like the healthy tissue but still narrower and curved, although less so than the untreated tissue. the mice treated with 500mg/kg of malic acid per day have tissue which looks even closer to the healthy appearance, with less curvature than the other treatment groups. end ID

since i started drafting this post i've started taking these malic acid supplements from Nature's Life – the full dose made me feel weird including some heartburn so i cut the capsules & take roughly 2/3 – 3/4 of it at a time (i drop the rest into a spare pill jar to make more doses from). it's been similarly effective for me

please be aware that the supplement instructions say to only take it once a day, i haven't had any issues but everybody is different & this avenue is definitely under-researched! (the mice were given 250mg/kg per day which for me would be like 27 grams but i am not a mouse lol)

[ms-demeanor]

I appreciate you starting a conversation about the harms of homeopathy, and I just want to mention that homeopathy/alternative medicine is also largely BS when it comes to treating our pets. A lot of essential oils and herbal remedies are toxic to cats and dogs even in small quantities, but people still try using them as flea and tick prevention because they don’t want to use “toxic” medicine that actually works. CBD isn’t FDA approved for dogs because it’s not been proven to be effective and safe, but a lot of folks have pushed me to try it for my dog because he’s on medication for extreme anxiety. Some folks will seek out animal chiropractors to “treat” their dog’s IVDD or hip dysplasia instead of pursuing pain management or surgical treatment. People think that vets look at their pets and see dollar signs instead of an animal needing treatment and turn to snake oil salesmen instead. It’s maddening.

Yeah that makes me fucking crazy.

@drferox and @why-animals-do-the-thing are great resources on tumblr who have spent a ton of time discussing animal woo in the past; both have slowed down on posting because life is hard and tumblr is tumblr, but both have done a lot of excellent writing about things like animal training, raw pet food, vaccination, and how to be a good human to your pets. If you've got questions about animals, search their archives and you're probably going to find a ton of useful information.

Folks, I swear veterinarians aren't coming for your wallets and they are generally criminally under-compensated for the work that they do. They're brilliant professionals who are driven by passion and fucked by the market.

Sorry i went to go find some studies on dogs and cbd and i ended up finding a reprint of a small study from the american holistic veterinary medical association and I found this on the pdf and i'm going to murder somebody

for those who are not aware young living is an essential oil mlm largely targeting mormon housewives that was started by a man whose child died being drowned at birth in an at-home-water-birthing incident and who himself likely died of cancer he tried to treat with essential oils.

This is one of those things that's like a big flashing neon sign that the study/journal you're looking at is a hot pile of bullshit.

Anyway. Yeah. Research supporting the safety and effectiveness of CBD on dogs is pretty thin on the ground. Your pets depend on you. The choices you make determine their health and wellbeing.

Listening to woo-peddlers who tell you not to vaccinate, or who hype up untested "healthy grain free diets," or who promote and sell cbd in absence of evidence of its effectiveness is putting your pets hands in the health of someone who doesn't care about your pet, they just care about profit.

Also, while I'm here: don't feed your dog grain free foods unless they have a diagnosed allergy, grain free foods can lead to liver and kidney problems, dogs are more omnivorous, not obligate carnivores like cats and grain is not bad for their diet nor unnatural for them to eat, and there are very few brands that have done decades of feeding tests on dogs (Royal Canin, Hills Science Diet, Pedigree, Eukanuba, and Iams) and none of them are Blue Buffalo.

Appeals to nature are extremely common in online woo discussions of pet food and vet care. Your dog is not a wolf and does not need to eat like a wolf. Your cat is not a lion and does not need to claim territory like a lion.

Vaccinate your pets, don't let them wander, feed them tested diets, and listen to your vet's advice on their care.

[flattocatto]

Viktor Modern!AU uni headcanons

ohhh hes in my head i have so many thoughts i have so much to say about him. you guys just let me cook. ok. okay thanks. please reblog like whatever im new here LOL

warnings/key takeaways: mention of recreational drug use, freshman/sophomore year of uni, lots of studying, goofy meet cute, oblivious nerd viktor, both of you live on campus in dorms (same building), GENDER NEUTRAL (use of ‘you’, no specific pronouns)

HE SMOKES WEED

IDGAF HE SMOKES WEED

not like some crazy stuff. no. he smokes weed ti not feel PAIN. yeah you heard me. he smokes shit w high CBD content. doesn’t smoke it for the high, smokes it to feel better

think he would have it medically and everything

ohhh uni viktor would be the only fucker allowed to smoke in his dorm because if his leg got bad how could he go outside huh?? he didn’t share this news (of him being allowed to smoke indoors) but people knew since he’d have a window cracked open all the time. not fooling anyone

on this note i feel like he would only smoke if he absolutely needed to. yk how people go “i can quit anytime!” but never do? he’s the kind of guy to say that but MEAN IT. he just prefers his joints over painkillers because he finds they work faster

ok enough weed talk. he’s getting his masters in biomedical engineering. its obvious you guys ive seen this everywhere.

he wants to make people better prosthetics. he also got a degree in prosthetics and orthotics techs but it was only a 2 year so its ‘just a paper’ as he says

he studies hardcore. its surprising he even makes friends (sorry viktor) but he saw a lot of potential in jayce as a student from people watching. like in canon au :D!

on that note, biggest people watcher. its actually kind of how he got his friends. extroverts pick up introverts from introvert daycare (the corner of the room)

relationship headcanons

if you guys were to meet, it would be one of those silly meetcute things.

hear me out. you book a study room with your friends to study for exams, but none of them show. shame. one got sick, the other had to go home to see their parents or something. all in all, you were DITCHED by your homies

now. someone coordinating the rooms messed up. viktor had that room booked the SAME time you did! gasp! he just likes the space of the rooms to properly spread out his work.

anyway you were already in the room and he shows up. and just stands there. awkwardly. standing man emoji.

instead of apologizing, he STANDS HIS MFING GROUND. “i have this room booked for three hours.”

“thats crazy because ME TOO.”

you go back and forth, before you both realize the confirmation email you got was from the same person or whatever. who had booked the room for you two. not two separate rooms.

after viktor makes a small mumble of “of course”, you offer to let him stay anyway. and explain that you originally had friends going over but they dipped.

its exam season, you aren’t leaving and you aren’t gonna kick him out! thats so cruel!!!

at the end you end up exchanging numbers. and find out you’re in the same dormitory building!!!

he invites you to study with him in a study room next time, to ‘prevent the coordinator from messing up again’ — he just likes your presence

bing bang boom friends. occasionally one of you begins to break silence, asking silly questions about futures and families and holidays. conversation is limited, you are both locked in to studying most of the time

unfortunately YOU are the one to ask him out. viktor is literally just comfortable with your presence and too in his head to think you’d ever LIKE him romantically.

you take him to a museum. yeah. the local one had a free day for students. you’re also 100% chill with sitting whenever he looked uncomfortable. even if he denied needing rest, his face did that little scrunch thing and you just knew

after that you went to the uni again, to the dining hall. and he insisted on giving you a meal off of his meal plan. he said he ‘barely uses them all anyway,’ and forces you to take it. even if it kind of wasn’t allowed. he just lied to the clerk and said he was going to take it home.

very sweet if him, breaking RULES?

thats like the only rule he breaks for you

no, he won’t let you sleep in his dorm

no, he won’t sleep in YOUR dorm either

no, he won’t sneak out past curfew

(unless ur dying)

there was a time you texted him ‘help’ at midnight and he made his way all the way to your dorm very quietly.

turns out you had burnt popcorn. and it tasted horrible and you were honestly stressed to the point of tears. he thought you had gotten hurt. he proceeded to lecture you on appropriate texts to send at midnight past curfew. for like an hour.

glorious ovulation i need to smoke with him.

[anonymous-dentist]

Um, It's Kind of a Lot…

Or: Lukey's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Or: Have you considered a supervillain au?

Read on AO3!!! (It's 5k words lol, you might be better off reading it there.)

The Pangolin's design is officially inspired by @imhyperfixatingrn's art!

-

When Lukey steps out of the coffee shop to take his break and he’s immediately met with a gun to the face, all he can do is sigh because, somehow, being held at gunpoint is not the worst thing that’s happened to him in recent memory.

He still has his apron on, and his cellphone is in his hand with his thumb hovering over Newt’s contact (he’s still working out how to actually call people, but at least he knows where the contact list is!) His fingertips are stained brown from coffee grounds, and flour is practically caked onto his right cheek after a mishap with the electric mixer earlier in his shift.

Lukey, these days, is a barista, and a shitty one at that. He’s better with the baking, but the kitchen’s electric oven still gives him problems even after four entire shifts trying to learn it. He does the math in his head when someone tries paying in cash, and he has to fight with the cash register to get their change out without having to put their order into it.

He is a barista. He is twenty-one years old, and he is a community college student, and he is a barista.

“Hands up,” his assailant barks, voice hardly muffled by the black bandana tied around the bottom half of their face, “scientist. And drop the phone.”

Slowly, Lukey lowers himself to the ground. He raises one hand, keeping eye contact with his attacker, and he uses the other to turn his phone off and place it gently on the pavement.

And then the bastard slams the heel of their combat boot right into the screen, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

Lukey looks up at them in horror. “Ex-cuse me? Do you know how expensive those things are?”

He knows. He was there when Newt bought it for him, and his eyes just about fell out of his head when he saw the price tag.

The gun is pointed at the top of his head in response, cold steel digging into his scalp; he shivers and raises his other hand and shuts the fuck up.

“Don’t say a word,” his, what, kidnapper(?) snaps, “stand up, and follow me.”

Lukey nods shallowly.

They’re in the shady, smelly back alley between the coffee shop and the CBD store behind it, alone. Nobody would even hear if he screamed.

So he stands, hands firmly raised in the air.

Lukey, somehow, is a barista. He doesn’t know how to make anything fancier than a black coffee, but he can bake a mean croissant.

But he nods his head again in acknowledgement as his kidnapper orders, “Move, scientist. There’s a car that way.”

They put the gun against the small of Lukey’s back and push him to the left towards the mouth of the alley near the neighborhood drugstore.

And so Lukey walks, hands up and face flat. This isn’t his first kidnapping (he thinks), he knows the drill.

There’s a black van parked in front of the drugstore with someone leaning against the outside of it holding an honest-to-God whip in their hand; as Lukey approaches, the whip cracks and ends up tied around one of Lukey’s wrists.

“Scientist,” Whip lowly says. “Nice of you to join us.”

They yank their whip, pulling him a few stumbled steps closer.

He smiles as placidly as he can. “Of course! Anything for a fan.”

Whip laughs. Gun shows their amusement by slamming the butt of their pistol into the base of Lukey’s skull.

He falls forward right into Whip’s arms, and the world goes dark.

-

(Pangi orders a croissant and takes a seat with it while he waits for Ros and Aimsey. The guy behind the counter- almost as pale as the flour stuck to his face- steps out back to go on his break.

The croissant is good.

The guy who supposedly made it doesn’t come back from his break.

A black van speeds down the road outside.

Pangi's phone dings, and he checks it.

With a sigh, he grabs his backpack from the chair next to him and stands.)

-

Cold.

Once upon a time, Lukey used to like the cold. The cold meant snow, and snow meant snowball fights with Newt and hot cocoa from the nice old lady from the flower shop. He used to try and catch snowflakes and put them under his (stolen) microscope to spot the differences.

Now, though, Lukey’s wavering consciousness tells him that he’s somewhere cold, and he almost wishes he was actually fucking dead, actually, instead of awake and blindfolded and tied to what feels like the world’s most uncomfortable metal folding chair.

Even with his eyes closed from the blindfold, the world is spinning around him. His stomach is in knots, there’s bile in his throat, he’s sweating despite the cold- concussion, almost definitely, which is fine. He’s gotten over concussions before, nothing new there.

Lukey grimaces down a wave of nausea. The concussion might not be a new experience, but that doesn’t mean it’s a pleasant one.

Okay, he thinks, take stock.

Blindfolded, but he isn’t gagged. His hands are tied behind the chair’s back, but they haven’t been tied long enough to go numb; he wiggles his fingers one after another, and they all cooperate well enough. Each ankle is tied to one of the chair’s front legs. Restraints are rough against his wrists- rope?

Wherever he’s been taken is quiet save for his own breathing and a faint rumbling. It smells of metal and, comfortably enough, blood.

Scientist, his kidnappers had called him. Hah! He wishes!

His memory is foggier than it used to be, but he remembers being handcuffed the last time he was kidnapped. So, really, these guys are a downgrade.

But. It’s cold.

Lukey bites his lip and huffs a tense breath out of his nose. He is fine. He’s fine, and he’ll be back at work, and he won’t even get fired for disappearing before end of his shift; he’s only met his manager once, but Bad seemed nice enough, he would probably excuse a kidnapping and just schedule Lukey for an extra shift over the weekend, it’ll be fine.

-

It isn’t fine.

By the time the kidnappers stomp their way into the room, Lukey’s hands and feet are all numb and his brain feels like it’s melting out of his ears. His teeth are chattering. He’s one bad memory away from a panic attack, and the horrible cold feeling in his bones is not helping any.

Still, he tries to sit up straight as the heavier of the two pairs of footsteps approach him- Gun was bigger, it’s probably them.

And, indeed, it is, because they laugh lowly and say, “Well, well. Looks like the scientist is a little chilly.”

Whip adds, “Poor guy’s nose is blue!”

Lukey’s nose sure feels blue. It’s so numb that he can only imagine that it’s already fallen off him from frostbite.

“Heh,” says the wise gunman.

And then, suddenly, there is light as Lukey’s blindfold is ripped off.

He instinctively flinches back and cringes into himself, a near-perfect recreation of his performance a week prior. This time, however, he makes a point of keeping his eyes open, even if it makes his head pound and his stomach coil in upset.

The walls are metallic and covered in frost. Slabs of meat hang from the ceiling from hooks, and cardboard boxes labeled with various vegetables are scattered about. There’s one door, and Lukey is looking directly at it; between him and it, though, are his two kidnappers.

Whip has taken their makeshift mask off, revealing… an absolute nobody, the most white bread-looking person Lukey has ever seen. Their whip is on their belt, rolled up, and they themselves are leaned against the door casually with their arms crossed.

Gun is still masked up, and their gun is still drawn.

Lukey looks at the gun.

The gun levels itself neatly with Lukey’s jugular.

Gun tilts their head, eyes squinting in amusement. “Alright, scientist, don’t look so scared yet. You aren’t gonna die.”

“Yeah!” Whip agrees. “We need your help!”

Lukey blinks. “Excuse me?”

Whip beams. “That’s right, scientist. We’ve heard aaaalll about you.”

God, they say ‘scientist’ like it’s a slur.

Lukey blinks again; there are spots in his vision, and they’re dancing.

“Ahm,” he tactfully says. “What have you he-”

His voice cracks.

He coughs and tries again: “What have you heard, exactly?”

(Step one of the scientific method: posit a question.)

Whip’s smile flickers like a dying lightbulb, their shoulders tightening minutely.

Gun’s aim wavers slightly, their grip on their weapon going white-knuckle.

(Step two: search for background information. Research.)

“Turn him around,” Whip orders.

Gun does as they’re told and grabs the back of Lukey’s chair with their free hand, elbowing him in the nose as they roughly jerk the chair onto its back legs and spin it 180 degrees.

Lukey’s stomach churns from the sudden motion; it’s enough to make him swallow his own vomit, ough.

The feeling doesn’t subside as the chair goes level again and he finds himself just a few short feet away from a corpse laid out on a plastic folding table.

Gun’s hand moves from the chair’s back to Lukey’s shoulder; it squeezes tightly, nails digging in like dull knives.

“Oh,” Lukey says.

The corpse’s skin is as white as the frost gathered on its clothes. Its eyes are closed, and its hands are clasped across its chest like a prayer.

There’s a big hole blown in the side of its head, and Lukey knows fire damage when he sees it.

“The Red got him,” Gun quietly says.

Lukey swallows. “I’m sorry. But I can’t-”

The gun presses against his temple; somehow, it’s almost warm.

“Nah,” Gun interrupts, “you can, scientist. We’ve heard all about your dad’s little experiments.”

“The Corruption,” Whip elaborates. “Dr. Lucas Teevee learned how to harness its power and control it.”

The Corruption…? What in the…

Gun snatches Lukey’s head by the hair and turns it harshly to the right, where one singular cardboard box sits on the floor. Just one box, small and taped shut with just one tiny piece of masking tape across its middle seam.

The gun shakes against Lukey’s head.

Gun breathes out ragged, says, “We read your dad’s journals. In the library. They say the Corruption can bring the dead back to life.”

That’s when Lukey notices the faint purple stain to the box’s corners.

He jumps in his seat as the box suddenly rattles and skitters an inch or two across the floor towards him.

For whatever reason, he suddenly feels faint. Maybe it’s the concussion. Maybe it’s the lore dump- who do they think he is?

(Step three of the scientific method: construct a hypothesis.)

“If my…” Lukey licks his dry, chapped lips nervously, lets out a breath, “…father is the Corruption expert, just get him to help you. I’m not a scientist. I’m-”

He shuts up as the gun’s safety clicks off.

He swallows, nods.

“Your dad is M-I-A,” Whip explains. “But we have it on good authority that you’re just as good as he is. So here’s the deal, scientist. You use the Corruption in that box to bring our friend back to life, and you get to go free.”

“If you don’t,” Gun continues, “we’ll end the family bloodline right here.”

(Step four: experiment.)

Lukey’s dad died in a house fire in 1974.

The Corruption was called ‘Substance A-7-1’ when he last played with it. Epsilon called it ‘that fucking sludge’. Newt preferred never to speak of it at all.

Lukey is a community college student and a barista with a concussion and a gun to his head. He’s two seconds away from passing out, his hands are numb, he’s about to throw up all over himself and this stupid corpse in front of him, he’s twenty one, and he’s fucking cold.

So, naturally, he bites back a sob, tilts his head back, and offers his kidnappers a weak smile instead.

“I’ll do my best,” he promises. “But I’ll need my hands freed.”

He thinks he has frostbite. He tries to do jazz hands, anyway.

“And some gloves and a scalpel,” he quickly adds. “If that’s not too much trouble?”

He tries to look scared and adorable, which is easy enough to do when he’s one wrong word away from a bullet to the brain. He even bats his eyelashes (it always works on Newt, so it’s worth a try.)

Gun narrows their eyes.

Lukey politely asks, “Please? I can’t get into the lungs without one.”

(He isn’t getting into the lungs to begin with, but they don’t need to know that.)

“Oh,” Whip huffs, “just get him what he wants. If it’ll get Jeff back, do it.”

Gun sighs, but they back off and lower their gun.

Soon enough, the ropes are falling from Lukey’s wrists, and the show can really begin.

-

Before he wanted to be a scientist, Lukey wanted to be an actor. He even did a community theater production of The Wizard of Oz as the dog when he was a kid because it was easier to wrangle a child on stage than an actual dog.

Lukey rolls his sleeves up and tries not to flinch at the sight of his own goosebumps. He is cool.

(And very, very cold.)

The corpse formerly known as Jeff has had its chest shaved via a very irritated Gun. There should hypothetically be easy access to what remains of the lungs, Lukey will just need to break a few ribs to get there first.

Lukey’s feet were not untied, so he stands next to the body with the chair’s seat digging uncomfortably into the backs of his knees in an almost sort of straddle type position. His hands are mostly back (he can move his fingers again, at least), and his blindfold has been adjusted to act as a makeshift mask over his nose and mouth.

Gun is directly behind him with his weapon poking obtrusively into the small of Lukey's back. Their partner is gone, Lukey having (politely) sent them to the closest pharmacy for some painkillers.

("When he wakes up..." Whip had hesitantly asked. "Will he be, like... still in pain?" Lukey looked at the enormous hole in Jeff's skull and the shriveled remnants of his brain. "Maybe," he replied. "But it's better to be safe than sorry, right?")

There’s a series of cooking knives laid out on the top of a tall box next to him, a meat tenderizer, a stapler, a pair of scissors, and a pair of yellow rubber dish gloves. (As it turns out, Jeff’s parents own a restaurant, and they’ve teamed up with Whip and Gun to preserve their son’s body in their kitchen’s walk-in freezer like absolute freaks. Someone needs to call the health inspectors on them, because just how many people have eaten food corrupted by both a literal dead body and the literal Corruption??)

The box of Corruption is next to the body’s head. It smells like wine, but he knows from experience that it doesn’t taste half as good.

Lukey isn’t an actor anymore (as if he ever actually got to be one), but they do call it an operating theater for a reason!

“Okay,” he says, “my father didn’t tell me too much of what he’d been experimenting with, but-”

Gun cuts him off with a clipped, “Get on with it."

Lukey raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't argue.

He pulls on the gloves and picks up the meat tenderizer. He bounces it in his hand, tries a twirl of it, fails, flushes, and shoots a nervous look at the box of Corruption.

Right. Surgery on a corpse. A reverse autopsy, almost, considering how he's supposed to be bringing poor dead Jeff back to life.

As Lukey raises his arm, he tries not to remember the last time he ran this kind of experiment.

He slams the tenderizer down onto the body's ribcage; he full-body cringes as he hears the first 'CRACK!'.

"Hey!" Gun shouts. "Be gentle with him!"

"Sorry!" Lukey exclaims, more so to Jeff than to the asshole pointing a gun at him. "I just can't get to the ribcage if-"

He snaps his mouth shut as the gun pokes at him.

He nods, offers a silent second apology to Jeff the Corpse, and raises the tenderizer again.

Back in his day, he wasn't able to get any human test subjects, alive or otherwise. He made do with the rats that liked to live in the lab's walls and the occasional stray cat that looked one sneeze away from death's door. It was messy, but it was necessary.

(Step five of the scientific method: collect data. Step five-point-five: attempt experiment again should data be unsatisfactory.)

For science, Lukey thinks as a portion of the ribcage collapses beneath his mallet. He can't do any more science if he's fucking dead.

...Doesn't mean he isn't sick, though. The second he's home, he's going to crawl in front of his toilet and stay there for however long he can get away with- ouagh, gross, a rib is coming out of the skin, ewwww.

Lukey isn't a doctor. Not in this way, the medical way. He's always liked the little things more than the macro-organisms Epsilon was always obsessed with.

There's a peal of laughter from the kitchen outside, music blasting from the restaurant proper; Lukey wrinkles his nose in disgust. How can Jeff's creepy parents keep the party going when their son is literally dead and in their freezer?

But Lukey isn't a doctor. Even as he swaps the meat tenderizer out for the sharpest of the knives he's been given, he doesn't know if the Corruption will actually bring Jeff back to life; none of his old experiments showed evidence of resurrection, where did those so-called journals get that information from?

(Then again, it has been 39 years.)

Still, what else can he do but go along with his kidnappers' assumptions? Refusing would mean death. (Technically, failure will also mean death, but maybe Lukey will have actually figured out a plan by then.)

He starts the incision without really knowing how far to cut. (He failed human anatomy! Twice! What! Is he doing!)

Sternum to abdomen seems right...

God, how did Newt say do it back then? One big cut, then smaller ones? Ugh, but Newt was a chemistry student, what was he doing trying to tell Lukey how to cut a patient open??

Luckily, Lukey doesn't get far enough to start experimenting with secondary incisions before the freezer's door is slamming open and he's jumping out of his own skin and dropping his knife to the floor in shock.

He swears and falls back down into his chair, but Gun doesn't try and force him back to his feet.

No, Gun is, instead, running towards the door and grabbing a gasping Whip and pulling them inside and slamming the door shut behind them.

Lukey scoots his chair around in a rough circle so he's facing them both. (Come on, if he's going to be a hostage, he at least needs something to keep his mind off of the surgery he's supposed to be doing!)

He gags and rips his gaze away and to the frosty metal floor immediately, though, because Whip is...

"Darla!" Gun cries. "Where did your fucking arm go!?"

Whip is bleeding. Missing an arm and bleeding. It's caked across their entire left side and still drip-drip-dripping onto the floor.

People are screaming outside, Lukey can hear them now that he isn't caught up in his own spiraling thoughts.

(God, it's cold...)

Whip groans and retches and audibly staggers into Gun's increasingly-distressed-sounding arms.

"Is that really what you're fucking asking right now?" they moan.

"Who did this?" Gun demands.

"We fucked up," Whip responds. "We fucked up, dude. We kidnapped the wrong guy."

Lukey can't help but snap his head up at that.

He meets Whip's eyes, and he can't help but smile just a little at how fucking terrified they look all of a sudden.

"I told you," he innocently says, "should've gone for my father."

Gun sneers at him. "You-"

But they don't get to finish their statement. Not before the freezer's door explodes, sending both Gun and Whip flying across the freezer and into the opposing wall.

Even Lukey's chair is tipped over; he falls with it to the side, just barely catching himself on his hands before his head has a chance to hit the floor and make his concussion actual brain damage. (He's already had enough of that, thanks!)

The world is silent save for a faint, annoying ringing sound coming from the inside of Lukey's poor battered skull.

Smoke pours in from the open doorway. Red emergency lights from the kitchen backlight the figure slowly picking their way through the rubble, but all Lukey can see from his position on the floor are a pair of bloodstained black combat boots and a pair of red-stained cargo pants.

People are shouting, Lukey thinks. But he can't tell, it's all so quiet. Quiet and cold like fresh snow.

Lukey blinks, and then he sees it: the box of Corruption has fallen from its spot on the table and is just inches away from his face.

The tape is gone.

Then, suddenly, the world erupts back into focus: Lukey bites back a cry as sound floods his ears again. Screams and sirens and the crackling of flames and crying- so much crying. And-

"No, please!" Gun is screaming. "We didn't know! Honest! We didn't know he was yours!"

Lukey grits his teeth and tries to push himself up, but the chair he's still attached to just weighs him down. All he can manage is a roll onto his stomach and some useless attempts to kick the damn chair off him.

He props himself up on his elbows, face scrunched in pain as he tries to sort of rotate himself into a position where he can actually try and get the ropes off...

Aha!

He sees the knife he dropped just a few feet away under the operating table.

Ignoring Gun's pointless platitudes, Lukey starts dragging himself towards the knife one painful inch at a time.

(He can practically hear Newt now: "Lucas! How was work today? ...What do you mean, you got kidnapped? You were blown up by a supervillain!? Oh, dear, we can't afford another relocation... you really need to be more careful!")

"Please!" Gun pleads. "Spare her! She's already-"

There!

Lukey reaches as far as he can and manages to grab the knife. He quickly pulls it towards himself and rolls back onto his side, pulling his feet towards his knees and the chair with them.

He's starting to saw at the first of his restraints as the supervillain (because, really, none of this exactly screams superhero) says their first words since their explosive entrance:

"Dude, shut up," they groan.

And then there's a single gunshot.

Lukey freezes mid-cut, eyes wide. He's never... not since the fire...

Gun's dead body falls to the floor with a heavy thud. Maybe it's a good thing that Lukey can't see them.

"Ugh, finally!" the villain groans. "I never thought they'd shut up."

The villain's voice is muffled- mask, probably, but there's a grainy quality to their words that just scream 'voice filter'.

Lukey's mind races as he gets back to trying to free himself: Maybe he hasn't been spotted yet. Who did Newt say he had to stay away from, again? Maybe they're waiting to kill him. Mr. X... the Red...

The box of Corruption is open.

Lukey is still tied to his chair.

He is in a room full of corpses.

And, still, he somehow manages to hold himself together as a heavy hand comes down onto his shoulder.

"Please," the villain says, causing Lukey to freeze, "allow me."

The knife is easily plucked from his hand.

Lukey can only watch as the villain kneels by his feet and pulls out a long serrated- holy shit, is that a machete?

The machete is, predictably, covered in blood; Lukey can only assume that it was what was used to cut Whip's arm off earlier.

The rest of the villain is just as messy as their boots made them out to be: long duster coat that was probably brown before today, dark hood pulled up over their head. A gas mask hiding their face with the lenses spattered with Gun's fresh blood.

Lukey has no idea who the hell this guy is, but he stays still as the villain cuts him free with a few easy movements.

He stays still even as the villain nods to themselves, stands, and tucks their machete away into a sheathe on their belt. They stand, crack their neck, and look down at Lukey the same way he used to look at Ego under his microscope.

"Well?" they ask. "You coming?"

They even extend a gloved hand down.

Lukey looks at it.

Lukey looks up at the villain's hidden face.

There's a fire in the restaurant. Lukey doesn't need to see it to know it's there, he knows fire.

He reaches his own hand up, and the villain takes it without a word.

-

Somehow, they end up on the roof of a bank four blocks away from the restaurant. The sun is starting to set, and the city below glows with the lights of rescue vehicles.

Lukey still has his work apron on. Criss-cross on the roof, he fiddles with his nametag.

'Hello!' it reads with a smiley face, 'My name is LUKEY!'

The villain is next to him typing away on what Newt had called a 'flip phone' in his lectures. The gas mask is still on, but the gloves have come off. Their hood has come down, too, revealing a head of slicked-back ginger hair.

They haven't really spoken since helping Lukey out of the restaurant. Just some quick orders- 'This alley' 'Watch out'- and questions- 'Do you ever stop talking?'

(So what if Lukey is a nervous talker? Sue him, he was blown up half an hour ago.)

"Thank you," Lukey says, not for the first time.

The villain hums in acknowledgement.

"I mean, really, I did not want to go through with that surgery," Lukey continues, this time for the first time. (Again, nervous talker.)

He's surprised into looking up from his nametag as the villain lets out a confused little sound.

"The surgery?" they ask. "What?"

Lukey nods and tries to look as confused as the villain probably feels.

"Mhmm. They wanted me to use some, uh, Corruption to bring their dead friend back to life." He shrugs. "No idea why. I'm just a guy."

The villain looks at him. Keeps looking at him.

Lukey clears his throat and decides to look back down at his nametag. "I'm a barista, yeah? I mean, technically, I am, but I'm still learning."

"They kidnapped a barista," the villain slowly says, "to do surgery."

"Uh, yeah! See? Crazy, isn't it?"

He laughs a little, scared and more than a little confused about how those guys had even known who he was. Newt had assured him that all his records were sealed years ago; the I.D. he'd used to get hired at the coffee shop was as fake as his own last name.

Silence falls again, and Lukey... doesn't know what to do, really. Is he? Allowed to leave?

But then, soon enough, the villain next to him perks up as a new villain literally rises from the air in front of the both of them. This one, however, Lukey recognizes from the news articles that Newt had showed him.

Mr. X is currently the city's most wanted villain. Known for the ability to create and control shadows, and infamous for his kind of insane death toll, a lot of people call him the Grim Reaper.

But tonight Mr. X shrugs off his little shadow jetpack and immediately kicks Lukey in the side.

"I'm glad to see you're okay!" he cheerfully says, ignoring the way Lukey is kind of sort of now horizontal on the rooftop groaning in pain.

"Hello?" Lukey wheezes.

Mr. X waves. "Hi!"

"Mr. X!" the other villain cheers, hopping to their feet. "Finally!"

"Pangolin!" Mr. X sounds just as happy as the other villain- Pangolin?- does as he wraps them up in a tight hug. "Thank you so much."

"Eh, it's no problem. Just a couple of weirdos, ammiright?"

They look down at Lukey for confirmation; Lukey manages a sort-of half-nod, and Pangolin gives him a thumbs-up in response as if comforting him.

"Hello?" Lukey repeats, slowly pushing himself back upright. "Am I being kidnapped again?"

He sure hopes not. Newt would be inconsolable if he had to go on another rescue mission.

Mr. X, with his entire body hidden behind one big person-shaped shadow, almost looks amused at the question.

"What?" he asks. "Of course not! Your boss noticed you were gone, and he called me for help."

He breaks the hug; Pangolin, strangely enough, almost seems to deflate at the sudden distance.

Pangolin clears their throat and looks determinedly right into Lukey's eyes. "And he called me."

Lukey frowns. "Well, thank you, but aren't you both..."

"Villains?" Mr. X supplies. "Well, some people say that. Can't imagine why."

He sighs.

Lukey remembers the way Whip looked in Gun's arms without their arm, the way Gun's body was positioned over Whip's as if trying to protect them as Pangolin led him out of the burning restaurant, the burning restaurant.

"Me neither," he ends up saying. Because, well. They did rescue him, after all, and just because Bad had asked. (But, really, that just begs the question of how the hell Bad was able to contact Mr. X in the first place.)

Pangolin gasps and gestures towards Lukey appreciatively. "Thank you! Finally, someone else gets it!"

"Haha, yeah," Lukey awkwardly says, "I know a bit about being judged based of appearances."

(Newt dresses in all black and has an entire room in his apartment filled with various forms of weaponry; he also knits and cries when watching romcoms.)

(Butterfly Knight is supposed to be the city's most treasured hero. She also pointed her Spear of Justice at Lukey's chest and told him to start talking or he would end up wishing he was back at Null Tower.)

Mr. X hums consideringly. He looks down at Lukey with a shadowy finger on his shadowy chin, foot tapping against the rooftop.

Pangolin looks at him, head tilted. "What's wrong?"

Mr. X shakes his head. "No, nothing. I'm just... Lukey, do you work afternoon shifts often?"

Lukey is slightly taken aback at the sudden topic change, but he rolls with it. "Uhh, I don't know? I come in when Bad needs me to. I haven't been working for him long enough to have a set schedule, I think."

"That's true," Mr. X says, for some reason. "Well, tell him you're working mornings from now on, because you're going to be working nights for me."

Pangolin's shock can be heard even through their mask and voice filter. "Excuse me?"

Lukey feels like he's just gotten another concussion. "Yeah, what?"

Mr. X, though, looks proud of himself as he claps his hands together and rolls back and forth on the balls of his feet. "It's a great idea! What do you think, Lukey? You help us to not get caught, and we'll make sure nobody kidnaps you again. It's a win-win!"

Lukey and Pangolin look right at each other.

They look back at Mr. X, who seems to be absolutely clueless to the sudden uncomfortable atmosphere.

"And," he adds, "if you don't say yes, I'll have to kill you for hearing about our connections with your boss. Sorry, them's the rules!"

Ah, there's a third concussion. Or maybe it's just fear. Bafflement. Terror. Confusion.

"So, Lukey," Mr. X says, "what'll it be?"

-

By the time Lukey makes it through the front door, night has already fallen, and there's a Newt pacing in the entryway nervously.

He perks up when he sees Lukey, though his expression falls as soon as he actually sees Lukey.

"Lucas!" he gasps, rushing forward and pulling him the rest of the way inside. "What happened?"

Just as he's always done, he goes for a hug before he actually checks for damage.

Lukey immediately hugs him back, burying his face in Newt's shoulder.

"I got stuck in the freezer at work," he lies. "And then I almost got my head stuck in the oven."

Newt sighs, and Lukey is glad that he can't see his face because he's always been so good at telling when Lukey is lying. (It's almost like they've known each other their whole lives.)

Lukey doesn't protest as Newt drags him to the bathroom to get cleaned up, and he doesn't argue as he's sat down on the edge of the bathtub, and he doesn't even roll his eyes as Newt gets the first aid kit out from the cupboard and gets to work with his antiseptic wipes and bandages.

Tonight is Lukey's last night off before he starts his new job, after all. He doesn't want to spend it in an argument.

____

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