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Watch "Dr. John Hall - Satellite Surveillance (Project Camelot Radio) 1/11" on YouTube
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happypeachsludgeflower · 1 month ago
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So, in PIDW, there was obviously wife plots that could bring back the dead (mushroom body being one of them), and since we know Airplane is a hack that reuses concepts over and over, there’s probably multiple wife plots that could work, so like, where’s the PIDW fics where Liu Qingge somehow comes back to life, memories of Shen Jiu trying to save him intact, and goes to hunt the asshole down so he can repay his life debt, and along the way accidentally clears Shen Jiu’s name of all his crimes and now everyone is convinced Shen Qingqiu is a saint.
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angelsdean · 10 months ago
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Dean remembering Hell in Supernatural: Bobby Singer's Guide to Hunting.
(for context they're up against a Greek Goddess that is feeding on their memories--preferring the good ones--so Dean starts remembering all his worst ones to hurt her)
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mayomkun · 6 months ago
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Rewatching dead boy detectives and I love the music box that starts playing when Charles started hitting the night nurse. Like, the haunting melody went so well with the shock of what we learned about Charles' past and his sudden outburst (spiralling out of control, the feeling of the world beating down on you over and over and even when you try your best, be your best self, it isn't enough and there isn't anything you can do). And then morphed to something more upbeat/thrilling when she fell into the sea, followed by complete silence with Charles' breakdown. Oughhhhhhhhh
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barksbog · 9 days ago
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i might drag meat creatures into november again
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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 1 year ago
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Whump Prompt #1231
Anon asked:
May I have some torture prompts please?*
TW: Non-con body modifications/gore/body horror/organ harvesting etc
I got a bit carried away with these...
Your whumpee is left cut open - perhaps with their organs exposed. Their flesh could be pulled back and held open. This takes the feeling of exposure to a whole new level.
^ This also entices anxiety/panic. As they may be able to see organs grow back, therefore as they get closer to 'completion' they start to panic when they remember the pain of removal.
^ Also the torturer could use this for 'science' in order to better calculate which organ is better value for time/money.
The torturer could also take blood at the same time to limit the mess during surgeries. Your whumpee is constantly nauseous/lightheaded/weak because of this. (Dubious science, but you get the idea)
The first time they're allowed to heal, even for a short amount of time, they're overwhelmed with relief.
Are they rescued while they're still 'open'?
Do they scar regardless of the injury type? For example, if a leg is taken, are they left with a ring of scarring where the initial cut was?
At what point do they stop feeling it/are so in shock that they just.. don't register what's going on?
How does the harvesting affect their sense of balance/bodily functions? Do they have nausea, but have nothing to make something to bring up? When they're able to stand after their rescue, do they feel heavy/full?
^ Are they so used to feeling empty?
Do the torturers take their eyes so they're unable to see what's happening/where they are?
What if, a long time after their rescue/recovery, they stumble across someone who received a limb/organ they needed - maybe they're so grateful for it, but the whumpee has to silently suffer knowing that it's their body part.
^ How does the whumpee know it's theirs? Do tattoos/pre-existing scars regenerate also?
After the rescue, the first time they have a day without pain is bliss. They sob.
*(The character context Anon gave is under the cut)
My whumpee is from a humanoid subspecies that can regenerate almost ANY lost body part - limbs, fingers, eyes, tongue, most internal organs, you name it - unless they've been fully chopped to bits. The only thing they cannot regenerate is their equivalent of a brain, because obviously that controls the regeneration process (if they've been lobotomized, they can still regenerate but slower). The regeneration process usually lasts from 3 hours to a week, depending on what and how much has been lost, but the process is painful, uncomfortable and it's usually for the best that the individual is asleep through most of it.
That makes whumpee's subspecies very attractive to organ harvesting rings, because their organs are compatible with those of many other species. One day, our whumpee wakes up strapped to a table...
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angelnumber27 · 5 months ago
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It’s so embarrassing and heartbreaking being in so much pain over losing someone while knowing they don’t give a fuck if you live or die. Your favorite person becoming a stranger is a special kind of hell.
#I fucking hate having bpd#while I’m at it I don’t understand the fuckin audacity some people have to say they love you and do horrible things to you#I feel so stupid#I feel so stupid for believing all the lies#but I was so in love and put him on such a pedestal that I just allowed it all.#thinking about someone constantly and grieving over them and knowing they’re perfectly fine and to them you don’t exist#I’m still in such a state of grief and I don’t understand why time hasn’t healed#it honestly feels like it’s gotten worse w time#I just torture myself but I can’t help it my brain wants me dead#it’s so painful I feel so fucking stupid#being abandoned with no closure by someone who’s your entire world#for someone they were unfaithful to you with multiple times (I don’t even know how many and dony want to know) immediately#like that was the plan all along#he took our cat hundreds of miles away and I don’t even know if he still has her or if she’s still alive and I miss her every day#I never loved someone like that and it feels like the heartbreak is actually physically killing me#i spent 1/5 of my entire life with him#I was my prettiest and had the best body at the time and I wasted it on someone who didn’t appreciate me#not wasted. it wasn’t wasted. we had some incredible times together#I’ll never be that beautiful again#and now idk what do so bc i can’t decide which is worse: being alone and isolating or loving deeply and ending up horribly hurt all over#it’s all just so upsetting.#and I feel so stupid for allowing it all#he knows more about me than anyone and he made me feel like he loved me so much sometimes and then did horrid things and it’s so fucked up#nobody read this I’m so embarrassed and horribly broken#it traumatized me so much there was so much abuse and pain idk if I’ll ever recover#I deserved it but it still hurts my heart#I was so mentally ill and sick I know it had to have been miserable to be around me#there are so many things only he understands and knows about me and I need to talk about them I j wanna b able to b there 4 each other#but that girl is so beyond insecure and controlling so. if I want to talk to who fuckin gets me I’m just fucked#why lead someone on like that for years knowing you’re going to abandon them the second it’s convenient
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selfishpresley · 13 days ago
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You know what they say… Save a horse ride a cowboy
https://www.instagram.com/p/DBRdlhGssGW/?igsh=MTZ1cWQ5cjhxcWhjcw==
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Well, call PETA. I’m going to save horse.
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fisheito · 17 hours ago
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NoooOOOOOOO MORVAY NOT AGAIN!!! Two haloween s?? When will you be freee!! 💦💦💦
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MR FATHER PLE AXSSE
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mythicalcrumb · 1 year ago
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a friend saw me looking at frobin art and said "really?? you ship them?? after what robin did to franky in water7??"
my friend
that is how robin flirts
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mrspockify · 1 year ago
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Suddenly had an idea for elitadream’s Body Swap au that merges the twin bond concept where the brothers can feel/sense the other’s physical pain. Even though Bowser can’t feel anything while he’s in Mario’s body, Luigi definitely can.
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shalom-iamcominghome · 6 months ago
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I never really thought about cultural xtianity, but I did notice it even when I "was" xtian and... why is it that when I enter a hospital, the literal first thing I see is jesus being crucified. I understand the significance of that, but I think if I'm at a hospital I don't want to think about that.......
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phagodyke · 11 days ago
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the masculine urge to take a saucepan off thr draining board and bash myself repeatedly over the head with it until I pass out and no longer have to experience feeling Bad 😍
#struggling to tolerate this one ngl its fucking dire this weekend. i just cant do this man#thr things i would fucking do for attention please. just one person to notice and care in the slighest i feel like im losing my fucking#mind out here how does every single person who has ever mattered to me in my lifr see me in distress and choose to ignore it or maybe they#dont even recognise im ij distress in the first place i dont know whats worse i dont think i hide it well at all im just so done#listen like ultimately its fucking fine. i will get myself through it like ive gotten myself through everything else in my fuckijg life#i dont even feel bad that often these days im doing so so so much better and its so much more tolerable to only have to deal with this#once or twice a week instead of it being a struggle every single day like i dont think i could go back to feeling like that again ever i#dont know how i managed to get througyh it before jesus fucking christ. but i can deal with it i can deal with this#ik ill feel fine tomorrow. its just thr fact im so desperately fucking alone with it that makes it so much worse than it has to be#i fucking hate repression i hate being so incapable of expressing myself that its easier for me to injure myself than it is to talk about#how i feel to anyone i hate being trapped in this stupif fucking torture labyrinth and not knowing how to get out of it and never being#given a single avenue anything to hold onto i hate having to do it alone every single fucking time and when i do try i just freeze out#entirely i cant form a coherent thought my brain enters total fucking shutdown pure static white noise fuzz and i dont know why please#its so unfair i dont think its that much to want a little comfort. just once just for someone to stay with me while i cry it doesnt have#to be more than that i just dont want to be alone like this i just want to feel safe around someone just close to someone just once#and well ill survive without it bc i always have i guess. so far at least. and there are many things im grateful for and i do in general#feel pretty okay my life is pretty good at times even. i feel so pathetic and stupid and ashamed for even feeling like this#but do i have to go my entire life without ever experiencing any kind of real intimacy with another person emotionally that is#i mean physical is nice too and they go hand in hand in some ways but i just want to feel seen and safe over anything.im tired#i feel like i try.but not hard enough i know its all my fault really but i dont know how to try any harder but nothing will ever change if#i dont i cant expect anyone to do anything if i cant rven communicate in thr first place. oh i dont want to think about it anymore#i have a headache from crhing and its not even 8pm ugh. okay. well it is what it is.#ill breathe until i calm down and then tidy up whatever i left in the kitchen and get my work stuff ready for tmr#and polish my boots maybe. and read and go to bed at 9:30 i think. and ill feel fine in the morning#my fault for thinking about it earlier i know i shouldve nipped it earlier on its such an easy spiral to fall into i need to get better#it happens. okay anyway. no cause for concern im good guys. weakly thumbs up at the camera all covered in blood#my period is late actually thats probably all this is lmao. makes sense thinking abt it#cant wait for it to finally start and all earthly desire to leave my body so i never experience pain again amen#.vent#ignore this sorry for being mentally ill im not even that mentally ill anymore so no excuse rly ummmm. bit embarrassing innit.
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pre-t-pickles · 2 months ago
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inspired by some traumatic events of the past week in the life of pre-t-pickles
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unforgivenn · 10 days ago
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WHUMPTOBER - DAY 21 BODY HORROR
Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.”
CW: Torture, Body horror, Non-con marking/tattooing, mutilation, physical transformation, Psychological manipulation, Descriptions of blood, bile, and flesh decomposition
The low hum of the machine cut through the air like a whisper from Hell. Whumpee's wrists were strapped down, their skin cold against the steel cuffs, as Whumper prepared the tattoo gun.
Whumpee’s chest heaved, heart hammering inside their chest “Please,” they whimpered, their voice a fragile, broken thing. “Please, I don’t want this.”
Whumper’s face was unreadable, their eyes dark with something far colder than malice. “This is going to hurt,” they murmured, their gloved fingers gently brushing Whumpee’s tear-streaked cheek. The touch was so tender, it almost felt crueler. “But pain makes the body remember. And you? You need to remember me.”
“Please… don’t…” Whumpee’s voice cracked, every word soaked in desperation. Their body trembled, weak tremors against the restraints. “I-I didn’t mean to lie—I didn’t—”
“I know you didn’t,” Whumper replied, calm, like they were discussing nothing more than the time of day. “But you need to learn. There are consequences for secrets.”
The gun buzzed, the sound louder now as the needle hovered near Whumpee’s skin. The ink inside the gun wasn’t black. It wasn’t even red. It was a sickly, yellow-green sludge, thick like bile. Whumper dipped the needle in again, the liquid dripping slowly, like something rotten.
Whumpee’s breath hitched. “No… please…” Their words were barely audible between sobs, tears trailing down their face. “I don’t want to be marked like this…”
Whumper smiled, soft and sinister. “Oh, this isn’t a tattoo,” they whispered, pressing the needle to Whumpee’s collarbone. “This is your punishment.”
The needle pierced flesh.
Whumpee’s scream tore through the room, raw and guttural, the sound of something breaking inside them. It wasn’t just the sharp sting of the needle, though. No, this pain was something far worse. The ink—whatever it was—burned as it seeped into their skin, not like fire, but something alien, something wrong. The liquid crawled under their flesh like it was alive, twisting, writhing, spreading through their veins like a parasite.
Whumper leaned in, their breath hot against Whumpee’s ear. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? This ink binds with your nerves. You’ll feel everything.”
Whumpee’s body convulsed, their chest heaving in violent jerks. The skin around the tattoo puffed and swelled unnaturally, veins bulging and darkening, almost black beneath the surface. The flesh itself began to split, cracking like brittle paper, slowly tearing apart as though something inside was trying to escape.
“N-no… please!” Whumpee gasped, thrashing against the restraints. “It’s spreading—stop it!”
Whumper’s hand came down on their shoulder, pinning them in place with a firm, almost gentle pressure. The touch only made the skin there split further, a nauseating crack and wet squelch filling the room. Whumpee’s body jolted, spasming uncontrollably.
The ink wasn’t staying inside them anymore. It was leaking out, a thick, oozing sludge that dripped onto the table beneath them. The stench hit them instantly—like rotting flesh, festering meat left to decay. It bubbled under the skin, crawling and pulsing, stretching the flesh until it tore further, revealing raw, glistening muscle underneath.
“Look at it,” Whumper whispered, their voice dripping with twisted admiration. “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears. This is what you’ve always been underneath.”
“I-I can feel it—please, it’s moving inside me, please…” Whumpee sobbed, their voice barely holding together.
Then the convulsions became violent. Their bones shifted beneath their skin, cracking with sickening pops in ways bones were never meant to move. Their spine arched unnaturally, jagged pieces of bone pushing through their back, shredding through the already torn skin. Flesh peeled away like paper, hanging in strips, their body dissolving, mutating into something grotesque.
Whumper watched, their eyes gleaming with cruel fascination. “You always hid something disgusting under that pretty face. Now everyone can see.”
The air was thick with the smell of blood, bile, and rot. Whumpee’s throat burned as bile surged up, choking on the taste of copper and decay. Every nerve in their body felt like it was being torn open, the ink still slithering beneath their skin, turning their flesh into a horror of twisted limbs and pulsing, swollen veins.
“Just… kill me…” Whumpee begged, their voice barely more than a ragged breath. “Please…”
Whumper knelt down, gently brushing a bloodstained tear from their cheek. “No,” they whispered, voice soft, almost loving. “Not yet. You still have so much more to feel.”
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whattraintracks · 7 months ago
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30. Wrestling - TMNT 1990s
"You are unique among your brothers, for you choose to face this enemy alone. But as you face it, do not forget them, and do not forget me. I am here, my son."
Splinter breathes deeply, allowing the flow of air to guide the outside world to the forefront of his awareness. Stale subterranean scent, cushioned armchair beneath him, dim candlelight, footsteps. Someone has drawn him out of meditation. Perhaps his sons are home earlier than expected.
"You may enter, Raphael," he offers to the hovering shadow. The turtle creeps inside, halting but a moment before bowing deeply.
He smiles warmly, "Have you and your brothers returned?"
"The guys are still out." Raphael's shoulders hunch; from what emotion, he cannot tell. "I, I didn't go with them."
The scattered candles flicker. A great darkness seems to cross Raphael, and he glimpses someone very much unlike his passionate son. Someone exhausted, worn down, nearing the brink of collapse.
Raphael's voice brittles, "Can I stay with you?"
Splinter's not sure what is more alarming, that Raphael has declined an opportunity to go to the surface—with his brothers, no less—or this weariness so evident in him.
"What troubles you?" He implores.
Raphael shakes his head mutely.
He insists, trying to keep his disquiet at bay, "I cannot help you if you do not tell me what is wrong."
A coarse whisper, "It's nothing."
"This is not nothing," he creaks to his feet, "You must—"
"Dad."
The sudden plea stills them both.
"Master Splinter." His heart wrenches at the self-conscious amendment. It is not one he needs to make. Not about this. Not ever.
"Please, can I just," Raphael cuts himself off, breathing shallowly. Another flicker of candlelight and Splinter catches the sheen of tears in his eyes.
"Oh," he breathes. What a fool he is. His son has come seeking comfort and company, not interrogation.
"Yes. Yes, come." He beckons, reseating himself. "Sit with me."
Raphael shuffles deeper into the train car, kneeling stiffly. Splinter clucks softly, reaching for his arm to pull him against the chair. He curls forward without resistance, breath hitching.
"My son," he says, soothing with hands and words. "I am sorry. You may always come to me. You need not tell me what is on your mind to do so."
He is unsurprised but nevertheless heartbroken as Raphael releases a heavy sob, giving in to whatever weight he has been carrying. Tears prick in his own eyes at the openly hurting sound. He internally chides the parts of himself that demand answers over acceptance with open arms. Wrapping them now around as much of Raphael as he can, he mourns with his son so clearly wrestling with a great burden. He sends a prayer of gratitude to his Master Yoshi for guiding Raphael to him when that weight grew too large to bear alone.
Much time passes before the rest of his sons return. Long after Raphael cries himself past exhaustion into sleep. At some point, concerned at the angle of his son's neck, Splinter maneuvers out of his chair to rest them more comfortably on the floor. His ears prick at a whisper of movement. Ah, three movements.
Michelangelo peers into the train car, his brothers close behind. "Oh," he blinks, "he really did stay here."
Protectiveness flares within Splinter. "We should not begrudge Raphael's need for comfort or rest," he reproves.
Michelangelo's eyes widen in dismay, "Of course not!"
Donatello shakes his head, "No, we're not— We don't think Raph—" His eyes dart as they do when he's searching for the most precise explanation. "We're just worried about him."
"He's been having a rough week," Leonardo murmurs.
Oh, his sweet sons. He should not have been so quick to assume they meant anything uncharitable when they are but concerned brothers. As with Raphael, he wishes they had come sooner instead of struggling and worrying alone. He can be grateful they are here now.
"Tell me," he invites, resting a muffling hand on Raphael's tympanum.
They glance between themselves as they kneel, silently urging one another to speak first. He is careful to display only calm patience despite his inner turmoil.
Michelangelo finally bursts, "He's not eating." The other two look at him, befuddled.
"Okay, he's not, not eating," he revises, "but he didn't even finish a whole pizza at April's on Monday!"
Splinter trusts this is a remarkable incident, given their identically serious nods.
"I think he's having nightmares," Donatello contributes. "At the very least, he's not sleeping well. I keep finding him awake at odd hours, and sometimes he's pretty freaked."
Splinter huffs fondly. "Should I ask what you are doing awake at 'odd hours', Donatello?" The turtle shrugs cheekily.
He ponders these insights, soothing Raphael as he twitches. Do dreams haunt him now, even surrounded by loved ones?
"Leonardo?" he prompts, drawing his final son from deep thought.
Leonardo begins slowly as if unsure, "He's been more focused during training." As they all have. With their many hardships, each of his sons has increased their dedication to learning ninja, whether they realise it or not.
He listens keenly as Leonardo continues, "But when we're out, he hesitates. I've never seen so much slip past his defense."
He hums, "You are concerned he is a danger to himself and your brothers?"
"Never," Leonardo swears.
He tilts his head, not unkindly.
"Well, yeah, I guess," Leonardo concedes. "But not like that. Raph usually loves fighting." His eyes resonate with confusion and grief and fear. "He doesn't seem to enjoy it much lately. And he's always so tired, Master Splinter. It has to be more than him not sleeping."
"Maybe they're connected," Donatello suggests, "Maybe whatever's going on is affecting his sleep, and improper sleep is exacerbating the symptoms, on and on in a vicious cycle of—"
Michelangelo groans, "We get it, Donnie."
"Shh, quiet," Leonardo hisses.
They shush each other back and forth as Splinter watches Raphael slumber with a heavy heart. Holding up a paw, they fall silent. "You are right, my sons. Raphael is wrestling with something very grave indeed."
He reaches out to them. "My turtles, you have been through so much in your young lives." They lean in, allowing him to rest a hand on them, one by one.
"How do we help him?" Michelangelo asks.
Moved as he always is by Michelangelo's generous spirit, he is loath to admit he has no answer. He is stopped before he can.
"By following Master Splinter's teachings," Leonardo pronounces, looking at him eagerly. "Ultimate mastery comes not of the body but of the mind. Through mindfulness and unity, we draw each other up."
He is humbled to hear his own words in his son's voice. Warm with pride, he inclines his head.
"A break certainly couldn't hurt," Donatello rubs his chin, "A little downtime to focus on rest and healing together."
Michelangelo brightens. "Like family time!"
Donatello and Leonardo share a fond glance. "Yeah, Mikey," Leonardo says, tucking the turtle under his arm, "like family time."
"You guys are the sappiest suckers I've ever known." Splinter chuckles as Leonardo and Michelangelo startle at Raphael's sudden utterance.
Donatello laughs, "Please, you know like seven people."
"Yeah, an' the other three are normal," Raphael grumbles. Yet he unabashedly proves himself equally "sappy" as he shifts to nuzzle Splinter's hand.
Recovering from their shock, Michelangelo exclaims, "Raph!" as Leonardo yelps, "You're awake!?"
Raphael yawns widely, opening one eye briefly to check the room. "Hard to sleep with the lot of you yappin'." He appears, if only for this moment, at ease. It is a gift to see him comfortable and unguarded. More so, Splinter acknowledges, because these things have been absent in him for too long.
"I won't say no to a break," he mumbles. He lifts a hand to swat at Leonardo blindly, "But I refuse to participate in anything called 'family time'."
Leonardo evades the wild arm, a mischievous spark in his eye, "Fine then, we'll call it team building."
Raphael scoffs, "No. That's worse."
And as the four bicker good-naturedly Splinter knows they will find peace, as surely as he knows the love that binds them. However much healing Raphael needs, he will not do it alone. His family would not let him if he tried.
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