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#borgiacest
girl-bateman · 8 months
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You know where the scandal is. /Playlist
Part 1, Part 2
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Today's problematic ship is Cesare Borgia and Lucrezia Borgia from The Borgias
Brother/sister incest
Requested by me
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romangoldendreams · 7 months
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Her beauty was so divine that never italy had seen a woman like her before, since Aphrodite altars were left for the love of Christ. And any Man on God's Earth loved her more than her own brother; Cesare Borgia.
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scaryhaven · 7 months
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Yeah, yeah, so maybe I have my own deep issues, but I can't help it, I love characters that are hopelessly devoted, in love, nearing on unhealthy or outright, obsessed with, one person that they'll always be loyal to above all else, because they are truly incomplete without them.
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darklinaforever · 22 days
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I ship Daemyra, Jonerys, Persades, Lucesare / Borgiacest, Yume (Yuki & Kaname), Valerio & Lucrecia, Dracmina, Snowbaird, Warnette (Warner & Juliette), Jurdan, Addie & Luc, Lamen, Corien & Rielle, Marya Morevna & Koschei, Catradora, Charleimy, Phole (Phoebe & Cole), Heathcliff & Catherine, Jane Eyre & Mr Rochester, Erikstine, Raistlin & Crysania, Reylo, Darklina / Alarkling, Nina & Matthias, Mareven, Zutara, Taang, Azulaang, Rayaari, Dramione, Snily, Rumbelle, Zelena & Hades, Hans & Anna, Charlastor / Radiobelle, Aragorn & Eowyn, Wyler / Weyler, Sylki, Sareth, Saurondriel, Namuri / Nashuri, Mergana, Glenya, Elizabeth & Maximilian, Xiao Yao & Xiang Liu, Jo & Laurie, Hannigram, Clannibal, Villaneve, Spuffy, Nabrina, Sessrin, Kishigo, Darkness & Lily, Beetlejuice & Lydia, BatJokes, Jarley, Rhett & Scarlett, Chair, Bonkai, Delena, Steferine, Klaroline, Haylijah, Bamon (books), Clarke & Hope, Loustat, Lestat & Jesse, Tentoorose, Chise & Elias, Livius / Livi & Nike, Akigure (Akito & Shigure), Chocola & Pierre, Nygmobblepot, Ed & Lee, Whoufflé / Whouffald, Carlos & Lidia / Alba, Thomas & Edith, Dani & Pelle, Nuala & Nuada, Charlie & India, Billy & Dinah, Billy & Krista, Ruby & Clancy, Veronica & Jason, Jessigrave / Kiljones, Jack & Sandie !
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Only ships that can cause controversy.
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And you know what ? I don't really give a damn.
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lizzie-queenofmeigas · 3 months
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I think there is a correlation between incest and cannibalism and an inherent eroticism in that.
I also see the incestuos feelings in certain ships as being homeless, desesperate for a home but never having one.
Something something, same blood, something something, you are in my sistem, something something, our hearts are the same/ we share a heart.
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lostinfic · 4 months
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Fic: Winter happens, like a secret
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Cesare x Lucrezia | Rated E | 3k words
Summary: Cesare has been gone for many weeks, fighting in the Romagna after the Sforza’s downfall, but one snowy Christmas Eve, he returns home to Lucrezia. Has she forgiven him for killing Alfonso?
The box was wrapped in a handkerchief, tied together with a velvet ribbon. Rather than look inside the box, she unravelled the red ribbon and slipped it around her brother’s neck. He chuckled. “What are you doing?” “You are my present this year,” she said. She pulled on the ribbon lightly, coaxing him closer though he could easily resist it if he so wished. He didn’t resist.
Loosely based on the infamous Folgers commercial, but set in Renaissance-era Italy.
Read on Ao3 or under the cut ↓
Lucrezia woke up in the middle of the night, her light slumber disturbed by a change in the luminosity beyond her eyelids. The night sky seemed aglow behind the curtains. The fire had faded down to embers, and warmth had seeped out of the room. She slipped on a red, fur-lined robe and went to the window. Outside, snowflakes drifted down from the sky, draping the garden in white. It was so bright, moonlight seemed to emanate from the ground itself.  
She laughed, delighted by the snow, though the feeling in her heart was closer to melancholy than joy. 
Tiptoeing down the stairs, she made her way to the kitchen. The cook and servants had been hard at work preparing food for tomorrow’s Vigila di Natale feast. Lucrezia filled a pot with water, added mint, honey, orange peels, ginger and tea leaves to it, then hung it above the fire in the hearth. Djem had introduced her to tea, and she was pleased to find some Asian ships, trading in the port of Naples, carried the leaves even though few locals drank it. She stirred the simmering water with a wooden spoon, and delicious aromas rose from the pot. She could have woken up a maid to make it, but she wanted to be alone. Admiring the falling snow through the frosted window, she warmed her hands on the earthenware cup and sipped her tea. 
Inevitably, her thoughts turned to Cesare.
Lucrezia had spent the Novena— the nine days before Christmas— reflecting on the Bible, singing carols and praying in St. Peter’s. The Pope had commissioned a splendid Nativity scene, and boughs of evergreen perfumed the space with their scent so deeply associated with Christmas. The populace filled the basilica with joyous hymns and brightly coloured attires, unlike Lucrezia who wore her widow’s blacks and whose heart was too heavy to be lifted by music. Six months had passed since Alfonso’s death, regrets rather than grief filled her heart now. Soon, her father would seek to marry her off again. Though who would take her, when rumours of Cesare’s hand in murdering Alfonso circulated around Rome which in turn reignited the gossip of an incestuous relationship. Had anyone heard the prayers she whispered in her mind, it would only have added fuel to the fire: she prayed to rid herself of this sinful desire for her brother, prayed to hate him, but in the same second, she prayed for his safety, his return and his eternal love. She promised God a life of holy devotion yet longed for her brother’s presence and dreamt of his lips at her neck. 
Cesare had been gone for months now, on some mission for the Holy Father— punishment for killing Alfonso and ruining their shaky alliance with Naples. Since capturing Caterina Sforza and killing her son and both her cousins, he had made many enemies. Yet he still pursued control over the Romagna. She and her parents hadn’t heard of him in a long time. And it seemed to Lucrezia that half her mind and heart were with him, somewhere beyond Rome. She willed each of her breaths to fill his lungs and each beat of her heart to push blood through his veins. In her darkest moments, she worried he had died, or worse, travelled back to France, to spend the holidays with his new family.  
Still, she had made garlands of dried citrus slices to hang around the house and infuse her gloomy mood with merriment, for Giovanni’s sake. The scent of lemon and firewood filled their home. Cousin Adriana would arrive soon with her family, as well as cousins from Spain, seeking some favour from the Pope, no doubt. Would she be able to keep a smile on until Epiphany? 
Lucrezia sighed. She’d drank half her tea without savouring it. Snow fell in big, fluffy clumps now. 
A man on horseback came through the gates. The horse’s clip-clopping disturbed the silent night, and hoofprints marred the pristine snow. Fear clutched her guts— at this hour, he could only bring bad news. Sweat beaded down her spine as she imagined he would tell her Cesare had died. 
The man appeared in no hurry to deliver the news. He stopped in the middle of the courtyard and waited for the stable boy to stumble out. She recognized the familiar grace with which he jumped off his horse, but she dared not hope. At last, the man lowered his hood and looked up in the direction of her bedroom window. Moonlight highlighted dark curls, stubbled cheeks and green eyes. Her heart leapt in her chest. 
Lucrezia rushed towards the kitchen door and yanked it open just as he was reaching it. 
“Cesare!” his name came out with a cloud on her breath. 
She jumped in his arms, and he caught her as he had so many times before. His cold nose tip pressed against her neck and sent a shiver through her. The snowflakes dusting his hair melted against her flushed cheeks. Her other half was back, and her whole body sang with relief. 
Holding her up, he carried her in, kicking the door close behind them with his foot. He murmured her name and sagged against her, tension released from his shoulders. 
“Why are you slipping in during the night like a phantom?”  
She kept her voice down. She should have woken up her mother who worried about Cesare too, but she wanted a moment alone with her dear brother. 
“I could not wait any longer,” he said. 
He slipped his hands under her dressing gown. However, the minute his frozen fingertips met her waist, she squirmed away with a squeal. He laughed at her reaction.  
She loved his laughter, she had missed it. The way it came out of his throat in a burst of giggles, more high-pitched than expected, and how he would try to contain it, pressing his lips together but a smile always remained, like a mischievous kid.  
Lucrezia took his large hands and rubbed them between her small palms, blowing warm breath on his fingers.  
“I have missed those hands,” she said. 
“And I have missed that face.” 
They took comfort in repeating those words they had said years ago, as if they could have their innocence back. In that moment, they could pretend their relationship had not changed, that despite sharing a bed and killing Juan and Alfonso, they were the same boy and girl who had once reunited in a deserted Apolostic palace. 
He kissed her hands, though with some restraint. His hasty departure, not long after Alfonso’s death, had left some things unresolved between them.   
“I’m starving,” he announced. 
Lucrezia lit a candle as he surveyed the food laid out in the kitchen.  
“Ah, good food, at last,” he said, picking candied fruits and chestnuts from a silver plate. 
She pushed his hand away. “It’s for the feast tonight.” 
With a cheeky grin, he popped a few honey-coated pistachios in his mouth. She offered him some tea which he sipped gratefully. The stone floor was cold under her feet, so she hopped up on the wooden counter, pushing aside a bouquet of dried rosemary. As he drank and warmed himself, he kept stealing glances at her, studying her reaction to his return. 
To be honest, Lucrezia was ambivalent. Though she was beyond happy to see him safe and home, of that there was no doubt, she questioned what form their relationship would take now. She knew what her body craved, what her heart hoped, but her rational mind cautioned her against it.  
“I brought you something, sis, from far away.” 
He should have waited until the 25th, but he never could restrain himself when he had an opportunity to cheer her up. And this proof that he had been thinking about her while he was away could only bring a smile to her lips. 
The box was wrapped in a handkerchief, tied together with a length of velvet ribbon. Rather than look inside the box, she unravelled the red ribbon and slipped it around her brother’s neck. 
He chuckled. “What are you doing?” 
“You are my present this year,” she said. 
She pulled lightly on both ends of the ribbon, coaxing him closer, though he could easily resist if he so wished— he didn’t resist. He stepped closer, leaning on his hands, placed each side of her knees. Sitting up on the counter, she was almost the same height as him. Suddenly serious, they looked into each other’s eyes, and she knew all too well these moments of tense silence in which one of them had to do the right thing. Neither of them looked away. She held onto the ribbon, and he stared at her, steadfast, intense. Anticipation made warmth pool low in her stomach. 
She had tried taking a lover, but quickly grew bored of the affair. Cesare had ruined her for other men, it seemed— and wouldn’t he like to know that. 
“You were my present too,” he said, in a low voice. “The day Mother put you in my arms, I had never held anything so precious.” He touched the ends of her loose blond waves as if it were spun gold. “I knew, even as a boy, that I would do anything to protect you…” 
She realized then, this was about Alfonso. 
“Do you forgive me?” he asked. 
“We are Borgias, brother, we never forgive.”  
He squeezed his eyes shut, pained to hear those words as much as she was to have voiced them. 
“And so, I cannot forgive even myself,” she continued, finally saying aloud the thoughts that had plagued her but which she could not share with anyone, “for I also am to blame for my husband’s death.” 
Cesare rested his forehead against hers, shaking his head in disagreement. She ran her fingers through his hair and gripped a fistful of curls. 
“It is the truth,” she said. 
“It was my fault. I wielded the blade and I—” 
“Yes, you wielded the blade,” Lucrezia said, working open his leather doublet, stiff with cold, “but I wield your heart.” She slipped her hands inside, spreading them over his chest. “As you do mine.”  
Under her palms, his heart was beating so fast it threatened to escape his ribcage. He could not deny the truth of her words.  
“Peace, brother,” she murmured soothingly, caressing his chest. His skin was damp under the leather. 
He rubbed his nose against hers, slowly, eyes closed, with none of the usual playfulness. He didn’t try to kiss her but neither did he step away. She tasted his honey-sweet sigh across her mouth. 
“Lucrezia,” he whispered her name with such adoration, but tainted with pain and reluctance. 
Why try to resist the inevitable? Was there virtue in a half-hearted effort? 
“Make me yours again.” 
His chest rumbled with something like a growl.  
When she brushed her lips against his, he captured her mouth. He kissed her deeply, hands tightening in the heavy fabric of her robe.  
Though she had not forgiven him in words, it was a kiss of absolution. Ardent and tender and so full of love, tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. 
She loved him, always, in spite of everything. He had made her that way, with his gentleness and indulgence, with his jealousy and adoring gaze. She could not even hold it against him. She had blossomed in his light and always would seek it. Nothing else would do. No one else would do.  
They broke the kiss well before they’d had their fill. 
Cesare searched her face for a sign of reluctance or regret, but he found the opposite. There was still time for one of them to pull away— usually Cesare. Instead, his hand slid up her back, along her spine, to cup the nape of her neck. That touch always filled her with such a delicious haze. Even back when she was too innocent to understand what it kindled in her, she sought it, luxuriated in it. And just like that, God was sitting in the room with them again. Her chest swelled with elation and the top of her head tingled from a shower of invisible, yet tangible light which descended upon them, shielded them. And the silence, only broken by the crackling fire, became almost musical. 
She touched Cesare’s chin, and he smiled. 
“I’ve missed this,” he whispered before kissing her again. 
She parted her lips for him, welcomed his tongue, and spread her legs. 
Hips cradled between her thighs, he assailed her neck with ravenous kisses. In his hunger, he nearly ripped open her shift. Her dressing gown slipped from her shoulders. Her short nails raked down his abdomen, towards his belt.  
The cold draught in the room was no match for the fever overtaking them. She made quick work of his codpiece, and he tugged her to the edge of the counter.  
He pushed her shift up her thighs and, for a moment, seemed lost in the softness of her skin and marvelled at how small she was next to him.  
Slipping her hand inside his pants, Lucrezia spurred him back into action. He bucked his hips into her palm with a ragged moan and found her wet and wanting under her bedclothes.  
Cesare sought her gaze then entered her in one long, luxurious thrust. Pleasure knocked the breath from their lungs as they clung to each other.  
She used to think time and longing had embellished her memory of their lovemaking. Surely, it could not have been as amazing as she made it out to be in her mind. But it was. A miracle. Rapture. She could not doubt they were two halves of the same whole, meant to be together lest they withered apart. 
Already pleasure made her toes curl and her core clench with each thrust. 
“Oh, God!” she moaned, throwing her head back. 
“I don’t think God wants anything to do with this,” he joked. 
“Then he should not have made you so well-endowed.” 
He grinned, and she kissed him, wanting to taste his joy, to take it inside herself. 
Laughter and sighs of pleasure mingled as they moved together. 
Anyone could have walked in on them, embracing passionately in the kitchen, but they were too far gone to care. 
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Out of breath and utterly satisfied, Lucrezia slumped down on the counter, “Happy Christmas,” she said.  
He smiled, gazing down at her, admiring her body where her shift clung to her sweat-damp skin. The ribbon still hung around his neck, and she used it to pull him down to her for a kiss. 
“I think I’d better not let you get used to having me on a leash,” he said as if that had not already been the case for years. 
He removed the ribbon from his neck and tied it in a bow around hers. 
“Beautiful,” he said. 
He was still in her, half-hard, her legs locked around his hips. There was a risk, she knew, that she might become pregnant. Would the Pope believe it was another Immaculate Conception if she said so? The thought amused her rather than scare her. 
After gathering food and wine, they headed upstairs to her bedroom. 
Cesare put another log in the fireplace and stirred the embers. He spared a moment to check on his godson, sleeping in the adjoining room. 
“Giovanni asked for you yesterday,” she said. 
“Perhaps that’s why I was in such a hurry to come back and rode through the night.” 
“Or is there another reason, perhaps?” 
She tilted her head with an impish smile. 
He hooked a finger under the ribbon at her throat and brought her lips to his. His kiss warmed her to her toes. 
“Will La Befana bring your son sweets or coal?” he asked. 
“Sweets, of course. He’s a angel.” She smiled proudly. 
“And tell me, my love, what will she bring me?” 
“We shall make our own sweetness, Cesare.” 
She picked a sweet from a plate and fed it to him. He sucked the sugar from her fingertips and peppered kisses down her wrist. In one swoop, he picked her up and carried her to bed. 
They cuddled under the covers, and talked of nothing important until the room was warm enough they could undress completely. Skin to skin, bodies entwined, they reaffirmed their bond and commitment to each other. 
It was one of the longest nights of the year, but the sun seemed to dawdle beyond the horizon just for them. 
In the morning, he would pretend his room was too cold without a fire or that he’d lost his way in the dark palazzo after weeks away. Outside, snow still blanketed Rome, it would melt in the daylight, but for now, it protected them with its silence and purity. 
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seredelgi · 5 months
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Cesare & Lucrezia| Mary On A Cross
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stromuprisahat · 21 days
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all of Rome, including Cardinals: *fleeing from French Army* Cesare @his father: They have Lucrezia as hostage. Have you heard? If they harm her…
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familyromantic · 1 year
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I swear that I'm already making a new video lol, but for now, here are some of my favorite Cesare/Lucrezia (The Borgias) fanvids. Enjoy! (Some of them live in my head rent free 😌)
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{Fancast} Isolda Dychauk as Sansa Stark and Mark Ryder as Sandor Clegane 💖💖
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“There she is!” Joffrey shouted, pointing.
Sandor Clegane cantered briskly through the gates astride Sansa’s chestnut courser. The girl was seated behind, both arms tight around the Hound’s chest.
Tyrion called to her. “Are you hurt, Lady Sansa?”
Blood was trickling down Sansa’s brow from a deep gash on her scalp. “They . . . they were throwing things . . . rocks and filth, eggs . . . I tried to tell them, I had no bread to give them. A man tried to pull me from the saddle. The Hound killed him, I think … his arm . . .” Her eyes widened and she put a hand over her mouth. “He cut off his arm.”
Clegane lifted her to the ground. His white cloak was torn and stained, and blood seeped through a jagged tear in his left sleeve. “The little bird’s bleeding. Someone take her back to her cage and see to that cut."
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Sandor Clegane Saves Sansa Stark During The Riot In King's Landing {A Clash of King's}
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jeweled-blue-eyes · 4 months
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cesare x lucrezia for song recs? 👀
A timeless classic! I present: the unholy family 🗡️🕊️
You find your way into my blood. You are the one that's one too much, and never enough. You'll be my morning after headache. You'll be my help-me-forget this heartbreak. Just like poison in my veins. You are the kiss I should forget, My one night gone too far, my favorite accident.
When they sold your soul to the highest bidder I broke down and cried Now I'm older and the road is clearer I got nothing left to fight Turn the light on call out to someone Thought I saw your face [...] Don't ever let go, my love We are the lovers, the dreamers You won't take us alive, believers Into the night, follow the sound We'll hold it down We'll be holding it down We'll have the last laugh
Let it all burn down around us Let the cruel consume the just Let the sin we swim in drown us Let the world shatter Into dust Nothing else matters Only us
And it's killing me when you're away And I wanna leave, and I wanna stay And I'm so confused, so hard to choose Between the pleasure and the pain And I know it's wrong, and I know it's right Even if I tried to win the fight My heart would overrule my mind And I'm not strong enough to stay away
Enjoy ✨
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sorceress-queen · 7 months
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I have waited for so long for another scene between Cesare and Lucrezia in Sarah Dunant's Borgia family historical fiction book duology. I am reading the second book now, about halfway in and adjskk... . The family dynamics and all the drama + political intrigue has been 👌.
And starting from p. 213-216/7. There is a scene of him coming to visit a sick Lucrezia and parts of it is just so s1/s3 (or whenever Morgana is sick) ArMor coded to me. 😅 + dark ArMor au vibes too, for sure.
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Bonus quote from Cesare's letter to her in the book + her reaction to it, p. 198-199:
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Also, the line from the letter made me think of a scene from Showtime Borgias in which he knocks on her door and she asks who it is or if it is her brother? I think the line was 'Is it the brother who loves me?' And he says 'The very same' or something like that 😅. I have to rewatch the series to be sure.
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bisognamorire · 1 year
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the directors of the borgias were ahead of their time with their portrayal of a consensual sibling incest relationship but good luck on finding a gay-sibcest high fantasy story like that. I dearly hope this desideratum will be no more one day
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darklinaforever · 10 days
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Sessrin / Sesshrin, Akigure, Persades, Sylki, Wyler / Weyler, Namuri / Nashuri, AddieLuc, Borgiacest / Lucesare, Sareth, Daemyra, Erikstine, Snowbaird, Reylo, Darklina / Alarkling, Zutara, Charlastor / Radiobelle, Dramione.
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lupines-slash-recs · 9 months
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Rec: Wings Are Made to Fly by EllaStorm
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Title: Wings Are Made to Fly Author: EllaStorm Canon: The Borgias Pairing: Lucrezia Borgia/Cesare Borgia Rating: Teen [PG] Word Count: 4,642 Summary: Alexander VI. doesn’t die in 1503 and the Borgia-empire grows under Cesare’s rule. Lucrezia is married in Ferrara
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