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  1. [Allowed] Vendetta-Vengeance

[center [font "Arial Narrow" This is a taken rolelpay. Sorry for the disappointment.]]


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Roleplay Responses

[center It didn't take particularly long for him to be weighed and so forth, but as usual, Gerard complained that he needed to gain more weight. Even with compact muscle he was too light, and he made a fuss about it for another minute or so, emphasizing the fact that his height was also a factor as he drew blood and so forth. He'd done an examination on his chest, had taken him to get some scans done, and by the time they were finished, Lazarus was exhausted. Even so, before they had left, he had told Gerard that he would see him later in the week about his blood.

After that he had told Philip that he would be over at his soon, but that he would want to shower before they really settled down to watch a film. He would be happy to fix them something to eat when came time for din as well, but for now, a nice hot shower and a good rest on the settee sounded like a brilliant idea.

With that said, soon he had kissed him goodbye, reminding him tha there was nothing to worry about, Lazarus had been on his way. He'd gone back out to his car, settling into the driver's side again and feeling partially sluggish as he drew on his safety belt and turned over the engine. They had some time ahead of them to relax, and after such a stressful trip, he figured Philip would need the time to recover, he kept this in mind as he headed over that way.

Even with all of this taken care of, howeve, Lazarus could feel the dread weighing heavy in his chest. He had always been worried about something like this happening. After all, he did have some serious susceptibility to chest colds and petty shyte like that. What he would be back to see, more so than his blood, were the scans taken of his chest cavity. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like what he saw there, but as a doctor, he also knew he would never be satisfied if he didn't get a good look himself.

For all that he was guessing it was, if anything, he was hoping it was fluid. There was scar tissue on his lungs from previous illnesses, but he was familiar with that. What he would be looking for was something different. ]
[center [pic http://imgur.com/939JFfX.jpg]]
[center [pic http://imgur.com/DNGTyYt.jpg]]
[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 Philip bit his bottom lip. Lazarus had caught onto his nervousness. He didn’t know whether to tell Lazarus some of it was because of the cars or just let him worry for only Philip’s worrying of sickness. So instead of saying anything he tried to think up a movie they hadn’t watched. Or something that he wouldn’t mind watching again. [b “I don’t know. We can throw in a random movie, yeah?”] He smiled slightly and looked up at his lover before looking over to find another voice. Philip shook the man’s hand and forced a smile and a greeting, but that was about it. Philip…didn’t like doctors. It wasn’t necessarily their fault. It’s just that they were bringers of bad news. Bad news he hoped he didn’t hear today. Especially not bad news directed toward Lazarus.]]]
[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 He took a deep breath as he followed the other, his hand slowly forcing itself loosen up and stop being so tense. He kept repeating to himself that everything was fine. That he was over-reacting. That Lazarus would die from old age and not from sickness. And that old age was very far from now and he had plenty of time with this lovely male before that ever happened. The thoughts helped a little bit. At least enough for him to be able to breathe properly and be able to look at Lazarus without thinking of death. He had to focus, of course, on other things. But at least now he was able to focus.]]]
[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 Once they were in the hospital room, his mind fogged up a little. To hide that, he smiled. A painfully obvious [i dying inside] smile. The last time he was in one of these was when he was talking to a doctor about treatment options with his grandfather. There were no treatment options, at that point. Even the doctor knew it. His grandfather was terminal. Nothing they could do would save him and they knew it. But they tried. They tried [i so hard] and still failed. This was why Philip feared sickness. Because to him, there was nothing anyone could do. If the sickness became terminal, they were gone. And Philip never wanted to say goodbye. Definitely not to his grandfather. And especially not to Lazarus. He nervously looked over at his better half, trying to picture him healthy. Trying to picture him without a cough or anything, without him ever getting sick again, and without him living in constant fear of losing Lazarus. But he couldn’t. Because Lazarus [i always] got sick. And that terrified him.]]]
  Philip / -fluid / 5y 29d 14h 33m 51s
[center With that, Lazarus had watched Philip go on his way, at least pleased to know that he'd taken that for something. If there was any way to distract him, he would have been more than happy to give it a try, and thus far, his efforts seemed to be well rewarded. It didn't take all that long to get to the hospital, but he felt horrid. After shutting himself into his Bentley at last, he couldn't explain exactly what it was.

Honestly, he was worried it could be several things. Telling Philip his worries wouldn't exactly have gone over well, and to be honest, he didn't like the idea of being that vulnerable, either. True, he absolutely adored his lover, but at the same time. . . it had never been so easy for him to admit when something was wrong.

Now that he was alone, he didn't feel like he had to put up a front, buckling himself and coughing into his kerchief. God, he was exhausted. He had worked all week, and true, it was demanding, but falling asleep at the wheel, dog tired the second he began to wind down - now - that was brutal.

He'd taken a bit to get to the hospital, having pulled over once or twice to get his coughs out proper. It seemed like by the time he'd parked in the nearest lot he was already exhausted again. Lazarus, however, soon hauled himself out of the vehicle, tucking his kerchief away.

Next was heading into the hospital itself, and he did so at slower pace, taking his time but getting there soon enough. Unsure what it was, be it the cold or his lacking health, it was rather difficult to breathe in this weather. Especially with all of this moisture today. It thoroughly reminded him of similar days in the spring and mid-summer, when the heat was at its worst and you felt as though you were breathing in water.

Once inside, he took care to sign himself in, explaining that he was here to see Gerard, and soon gave Philip his full attention. "Heyy, dear." Dear lord, he looked nervous."Relax, it'll be fine." He reassured him. "That said, if I'm going to yours tonight, what should we watch?"

He leant against the counter nearby, glad for the help with some of his weight. Could he just take a nap? A nap would be nice. Maybe a four day nap would cover all of the sleep he honestly felt like he'd missed. And here he was just falling into a more relaxed state, too, when Gerard cropped up, coffee in hand as though he had just finished lunch.



"It's great to see you again, old bean."

"You too, mate, but we went to school together, so if I'm old, you're old too." He playfully punched the man's chest before he fell right into an introduction of Philip, thereafter introducing Gerard as an old friend.

With that taken care of, Gerard had beckoned them follow, and taking Philip's hand, Lazarus gently tugged him along with him, thinking about how he wasn't entirely sure if Philip was really alright with being here. He seemed so tense, and Lazarus honestly didn't know if leaving him would have been so wonderful, either.]
  [Lazarus B. Grimme] / Vendetta-Vengeance / 5y 48d 18h 20m 46s
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[center [pic http://imgur.com/DNGTyYt.jpg]]
[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 Philip smiled when Lazarus took a seat across from him, but a flinch came quickly after. [i Hospital. [#FF0000 Hospital. [b Hospital.]]] He took a deep breath and looked up to hear his lovely lover compare him the legend Keith Richards, which lightened him up slightly. He let out a small laugh and nodded. [b “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’ll try and stop worrying.”] He smiled at Lazarus, finishing up and biting his lip slightly. He wanted to think it was nothing but he couldn’t help worrying. This was the love of his life he was talking about. He had no idea what he’d do if he lost Lazarus. Nothing would seem okay anymore; that was for sure. He threw his sketchbook back in his satchel and put his coat back on. [b “To the hospital. And then perhaps tonight you can come over and we’ll watch a movie, yeah? I think you owe me.”] He smiles, standing and throwing his satchel over his shoulder, digging out the keys to his bike lock. He ran his fingers over the fingers, sighing softly. The hospital wasn’t [i too] far, but his legs were still sore. ]]]
[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 He sighed and averted his eyes, looking anywhere but his boyfriend. [b “I’ll meet you there. I’ll probably get there after you, but I’ll try to hurry.”] He smiles, kissing Lazarus’ cheek before digging out a tip and tossing it on the table. He hurried out the door to unlock his bike, starting on his way because he knew it wouldn’t take Lazarus long, since he had a car. Cars…were not Philip’s thing. Not anymore, at least. No, not anymore. He pushed the thought away and kept riding, looking up at the street to make sure he wasn’t run over. Cars were convenient. They moved you around faster. They were more comfortable. They kept out the rain. They had air conditioning. But they crashed. And sometimes they crashed out in the middle of nowhere. And sometimes people died in car crashes, and you got stuck inside and had to wait for someone to find you and hope that you didn’t die before they could. This was why Philip liked his bike. He took a deep, shaky breath, and looked around, hearing a few people honk at him and tell him to pay attention. He didn’t even know what he did. He turned and looked up, eyes scanning for a car he recognized. Something to distract him. He didn’t know what to do.]]]
[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 Eventually he pulled up to the hospital. The place he dreaded to be, because it was a place associated with sickness and death. He parked his bike and locked it up, looking around for Lazarus. He was probably here. Somewhere. He slowly, on slightly shaky legs, went inside the building and looked around. Sure enough, there was his lovely boyfriend. Despite his nervousness due to his lover, it was his lovers face that made him feel safer. He walked over and smiled, running a hand through his hair. [b “Hey.”]]]]
  Philip / -fluid / 5y 49d 17h 7m 19s
[center Honestly, Lazarus didn't know what else to do, so he guessed he had no choice but to fold. It was that or deal with Julien all morning, and he definitely wasn't feeling up to a whole day's work with this cough. Might as well go and see about it better to be safe than. . . Regrettable. Ha. With that in mind, he took the opportunity to draw on his coat and move back into the restaurant, satchel slung over one shoulder.

He had wandered over to Philip's table to seat himself across from his lover, running his fingers through his long hair. [i [+midnightblue "You want to take a trip when you're done here? We can take a trip to hospital and have this seen to. Gerard's got a babe on the way, his wife needs him more. Wouldn't want him in the office more than he needs to be. Especially not for a silly chest cold."]] He explained, studying the man's food.

[i [+midnightblue "I swear, you're going to get worry lines and look like Keith Richards before long. You're too young to look like that intense of a legend. Stop your fretting."]] He chided, clicking his tongue. [i [+midnightblue "You know very well how easily I catch cold since I was a boy. I might have been sickly then but I've eaten all my veggies and I'm doing quote well, yeah?"]]

He cocked a brow, but a smile soon came to his lips. [i [+midnightblue "Anything we can do to stop you worrying would be more than fine by me. I'd rather it was nothing than to have you losing sleep over a tickle."]] He added, lids lowering.

Problem was, it wasn't in his throat, it was in his chest, and it was honestly beginning to hurt. That much he hadn't told Philip. That was normal right? You wheezed, you coughed your lungs out, you hocked up mucous like disgusting fictional beast slime, but then you got better and all was well.

He couldn't see the sense in worrying over something so trivial. Especially now. It was just. . . He supposed if he began to fret as well he would worry about what had caused it and get overly paranoid. No thanks. Lazarus preferred best case scenario, or at least, to be realistic until given proof. He was, after all, agnostic. What could you expect?]
  [Lazarus B. Grimme] / Vendetta-Vengeance / 5y 68d 19h 3m 41s
[center [pic http://imgur.com/939JFfX.jpg]]
[center [pic http://imgur.com/DNGTyYt.jpg]]
[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 Philip only nodded in response, and looked down to hide his nervousness. Yeah…he knew Lazarus caught colds easily. It was the very thing that made him wonder how he hadn’t died of stress while dating this man. He had to dismiss it though. That thought and the worry that something was wrong with his partner. It’d be better for them both in the long haul if he’d just…stop worrying he guessed. So he forced himself to smile, which was a little easier now that he was warming up a bit. It was easier to be happy when you weren’t an ice cube. He got up from his seat, kissing Lazarus’ cheek before heading out to a seat with his soup and focusing on eating and warming up. He didn’t know what to say. He just…wanted his worry to go away. But he knew it wouldn’t until his partners cough was gone. He couldn’t…he couldn’t handle sickness. He could try…but he couldn’t.]]]
[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 When Julien passed, Philip lifted his head up from the bowl and smiled weakly, saying that he was good and talking for a bit before Julien had to go serve the family. Looking around, it was amazing how many different types of people there were here. Unlike that fancy restaurant he just painted the side of, everyone was welcome here. It didn’t matter who you were, what you believed in, or what you were. It was quite…comfortable. Enough to calm him down slightly, at least. The warm towel helped with that, too, as he let the worries soak into the warmth.]]]
[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 He sketched for a while, until the warmth was no longer enough to keep him distracted. For all he knew, Lazarus could still be sick and not better. For all he knew, it could be bad. For all he knew, he could lose the only person that really mattered. He debated slipping into the kitchen to check up on him, but he knew he’d understand exactly why he was in there. He knew Philip too well. His hands were shaking slightly, so he dropped his pencil and pushed he sketchbook aside and dug out his phone again. There were only too people who could calm him down about sickness, and those people were his mothers. He open Crystal’s chat, knowing she was off work but Lana wasn’t. It was all he could think to do. He typed as quickly as he could with hands shaking. [b [font "Candara" You don’t think he could be [i really] sick, do you?]]His mother replied with reassurance that Lazarus would be just fine, , and that he needed to stop worrying. But…he wasn’t so sure about that. So he argued nervously back and forth with her until his pie came out. They were always too good to ignore.]]]
  Philip / -fluid / 5y 70d 3h 28m 48s
[center Offering Philip a nod, Lazarus turned away to fetch him a bowl of soup. He was careful as he ladled the stew into the heavy glazed clay work and set it on a saucer soon after. Then he was setting down bread, butter and organising it on a tray, balancing it in one hand and grasping Philip's in the other. It was then that he began to lead him off, knowing all too well the nervous tendency he was trying to play off.

[i [+midnightblue "Dear, it's but a cough. The weather's been rubbish and you know I catch cold easily."]] While he too had a British accent, his was rather strict, unaffected by where he had lived like that of some could be. His pronunciation was crisp.

Setting the bowl, small plate and such down, he turned to Philip and took his hands to rub them. His were warm from handling the hot flatware and such. Then he was gesturing towards a seat. [i [+midnightblue "Promise you'll have the first pie out. In the meantime, get something in your belly and warm up, yeah?"]]

Then he was wandering back into the kitchen, he nearly walked into Julien, who expertly turned to avoid the collision with a chuckle. He was serving a small family, but in passing he had greeted Philip as well, asking how the man was.

It must have been plain rubbish to be out in that weather. Especially with how nippy it tended to get. All the rainfall made the air raw. He'd been a fisherman, so he knew much about it, naturally. Weather like this, you didn't want to be in for long. He eventually brought about a warm towel to drape over his head and shoulders. Maybe that would get rid of some of the chill as well.

Julien was more or less like a second elder brother to Lazarus, and they'd been close for a number of years. Now the man dipped back into the kitchen to find Laz coughing into a small kerchief, in the corner, away from the food or anything remotely active. He would have to go and wash up a-gain, but what could you do.

[i [+olivegreen "Maybe you should go and see about that cough. Even for a chest cold, sounds raw."]] He was Irish himself, so his words lilted.

Lazarus shook his head. [i [+midnightblue "If I leave. We'll be short."]]

[i [+olivegreen "If you don't leave, I will. And we'll still be short. AND, I'll tell Philip you're coughing your lungs out."]] He threatened, a smug little ghost of a smirk on his visage.

[i [+midnightblue "Bastard."]] Lazarus chuckled. [i [+midnightblue "I suppose it couldn't hurt. I've been taking medicines but they haven't been helping much."]] For some reason.]
  [Lazarus B. Grimme] / Vendetta-Vengeance / 5y 80d 1h 25m 33s
[center [pic http://imgur.com/939JFfX.jpg]]
[center [pic http://imgur.com/DNGTyYt.jpg]]
[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 The smell was distracting. It smelt so good that he could hardly focus. It was times like these that he remembered exactly why he loved to hang out into the kitchen. He was zoning out. That was, until the kiss happened. Then he had to focus. He smiled, kissing back and letting the words sink in. [b “Soup sounds perfect, love.”] Honestly, he would have been happy with anything…as long as it came from his lovers kitchen, of course. He just wanted food. And perhaps a warm blanket. The coldness from the rain was finally sinking in, and making him shiver. Despite that, however, he dug his phone out of his pocket with icy cold fingers and unlocked it, scrolling through his pictures to find the picture he’d taken of the piece. [b “Eh, I’d say it went well. I painted it on the side of that fancy restaurant downtown that gives you basically no food that people go to just to prove their status. The owner didn’t go out to look at it though, although he liked the idea when I was explaining it.”] He chuckled slightly. His explanation…hadn’t been that descriptive, honestly. Just the colors, the fact it would be a lady’s profile, and that it would look runny. He’d left out that it represented the fakeness of the very people that paid so much to leave starving. They were – you see – rather fake, and runny. They’re appearance, and their wealth, did nothing to disguise the fact that they, in reality, had no more than that. And money, was not wealth. At least, that’s was Philip’s opinion on that topic. He slid his phone over to Lazarus to let him see the artwork, smiling slightly. [b “Have to admit, the rain was a pain to work with. Had to go over everything a few times. But I’m glad I did. Finished piece turned out nice, eh?”]]]]

[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 Philip tried to continue to smile, but he had to admit the hoarse sound in Lazarus’ voice worried him a little. At least enough to let his smile fall a bit. He always worried. Perhaps because he feared sickness a little bit. And if there was anything worse than him getting sick, it was someone else getting sick. Sure, he was coming [i off] from a chest cold, not onto one (hopefully), but Philip couldn’t stop his worrying. He’d lost his grandfather to lung cancer a few years back. Ever since, he’d been dreading it anytime someone got sick. With Lazarus…it was even worse. Hell, he didn’t know how he’d cope if he lost him to. But he shook the thought away, and regained his smile. [b “Feeling better, love? You still sound…well…hoarse, obviously.”] He opened the sketching app on his phone, knowing it was likely the only thing to keep his mind…occupied.]]]

[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 Damn, he worried too much.]]]

[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 He started a sketch, but paused in his work to slip off his coat. Too cold…next thing you knew he was going to be the sick one. He sighed, focusing instead on the smell coming from all the things cooking.]]]
  Philip / -fluid / 5y 80d 17h 35m 22s
[center Lazarus had just been straightening from behind the counter when Philip had made his appearance. They had more patrons finally filtering in, and it seemed to be getting busier and busier, but he was just glad even in this weather that they were getting such good traffic. It was as if a number of the persons there just needed a place to duck in, keep dry, have a good meal and perhaps chat a while with a friend.

At the counters there were a few writers, a couple tapping away on laptops, but the last wrote his work by hand. In the corner booth an artist sketched. The atmosphere there was simply warm. It was remarkably easy to feel at home, which was really the best part of it all.

They hosted events every now and again, theme nights for holidays, wedding receptions, birthdays and other celebrations. There would be none of those tonight, but it certainly looked like they would have their work cut out for them. [i [+midnightblue "Julien, can you just take these two orders out?"]] The male agreed, accepting the two plated meals and carried them out to be delivered.

Lazarus in the meantime leant forward to press a kiss to Philip's lips, smiling. [i [+midnightblue "They'll be done in ten or so. Would you like anything else in the meantime? I just finished a soup."]] The male tilted his head, reaching up to brush a bit of his mate's hair from his forehead.

[i [+midnightblue "How did today go, anyway?"]] He wondered what masterpiece he had created that day and if there had been a lucky patron of such, what they thought of it.

Lazarus reached up behind himself to re-tie his apron, and he did so, clearing his throat. He sounded a bit hoarse, but he was just coming off of a chest cold, so he supposed it was only to be expected.]
  [Lazarus B. Grimme] / Vendetta-Vengeance / 5y 87d 15h 46m 14s
[center [pic http://imgur.com/939JFfX.jpg]]
[center [pic http://imgur.com/DNGTyYt.jpg]]
[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 Maybe he was a little weird. Most artists wouldn’t even [i think] of doing this out in the rain. But it looked cool. He might catch a cold, but it looked cool, and that was more important. He looked up at the spray paint mess of a portrait, and grinned. Perfect. The rain definitely added to the finished look, by making it appear to drip.]]]

[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 Philip was a graffiti artist. Sometimes illegally, he supposed, but not always. Thanks to his talk about creativity to all the important people in town, the governor had given permission to all artists to paint the walls of the local recreational building. Sometimes the walls there just didn’t fit what he wanted to do, though. Like today. No, today he was painting a brick wall on the side of a fancy restaurant. Because it was the perfect spot for such a meaningful piece. He finished his masterpiece with a signature, and slipped inside to thank the owner for allowing him to paint on his walls. Today, was not an illegal day. He waved the owner good bye and took a glance at the clock. It was time for food. His stomach growled in agreement.]]]

[center [font "Poor Richard" [size17 He threw his bag on the back of his bike and hopped on, riding off into the rain until he saw that familiar sign. The Owl’s Eye. He’d been waiting all day to finish that piece and swing in for a meal. His mate’s Shepard pie – it was the best thing in the god damn world. He hopped off his bike and locked it, and walked inside, straight to the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, smiling at Lazarus. [b “Almost done with those pie yet, love?”] His British accent in his voice came through quite clearly. His accent wasn’t strict or refined. The queens English was not for him. Instead, it was loose. Like that beanie on Lazarus’ head. He reached over and fixed his partner’s beanie, the slight crookedness bothering him. [b “Sorry for being late, by the way. I’m normally stricter with time, but that piece took longer with the rain.”] He pushed his hood off of his head, glancing around the kitchen. ]]]
  Philip / -fluid / 5y 87d 17h 38m 58s
[center Today was just one of those days. The weather was shyte, so a number of persons who'd come into the restaurant that afternoon bordering early evening were in a bad way. That didn't mean they couldn't have a good time, though. Mr. Grimme had taken good care of his customers all this while, so there was no reason that he would slack off on such duties now.

The man floated about, with his long graceful stride and piercing blues all alight. Since he'd gotten into business owning, it had done nothing but significantly pay off; he was literally earning money doing exactly what he loved for hours on end, and honestly? Best job he could ever have. Even better, he was his own damned boss, so if he wanted a day off, he could very well take it.

However, since he had re-opened The Owl's Eye for business, he hadn't taken a single 'day off'. The only exceptions had been sick days, and those counted solely when he couldn't physically get out of bed. Those were the grandma-please-fix-me-soup-I'm-dying-of-influenza days. Luckily, his grandmother, who really was his second mum after his mum had passed many, many years previous, was always happy to spend time with him regardless.

He swore that woman actually enjoyed when he was sick because it was the only time Lazarus ever sat down to have a long and proper conversation with her aside from the holidays. That aside, their chats were limited since the evenings when she would be up and about were too busy and in the morning she only had so much time herself to chat. He'd been working on that recently, though, and to his pleasure, she'd mentioned bringing his grandfather by.

Smoothing out his apron, the male cleared his throat and re-rolled his sleeves. He was head chef, which had been the basis of this business to begin with, but he didn't dress in fancy chef's garb. He wore tight-fitting black trousers cuffed at his ankles where they met his dark cognac brogue boots. His upper half was clad in a navy button down, with a black button down jumper too large for him that fell past his mid-thigh.

Being that he'd recently cut his hair, he found it now more convenient, but even so, besides his fringe, the lot of it was tucked back and away into an matching over-sized beanie, which effectively kept his pierced ears warm.

This had been one of the longer days, with the way the rain descended upon them in a torrential downpour that cast everything in a haze of slate blue and steely grey.

As they wound back the shutters and opened the windows, he turned his nose upward to catch the scent of the refreshing rain-cleansed air that rolled from the immense bay windows and swept across the stained and lacquered cherry wood floors. This felt just as much at home to him as home did sometimes. His home away from home.

[i [+darkolivegreen "We finished the last of those bar pizzas, I'll bring them out and take them round to table four, yeah?"]]

[i [+midnightblue "That and the beef n' stout pies. I fixed some filling for the shepherd's but I'm not sure if I'm going to do the originals or the potted?"]]

The irishman he'd been speaking to shrugged, contemplating. [i [+darkolivegreen "I'd say, make 'em as rustic as you do. Bes' pie I've ever had was the first one you made when we were cockin' about round back, New Year's day. Speaking of, though, where's your mate?"]]

[i [+midnightblue "I'll do the old fashioned kind, then. No pot, thick crust, moulded tops. And that's a very good question. ."]]]
  [Lazarus B. Grimme] / Vendetta-Vengeance / 5y 92d 3h 57m 38s

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