#all the surprise cameos
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piratefishmama · 4 months ago
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i think Hugh Jackman needs to be studied, did scientists make him in a LAB?
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aroaceleovaldez · 10 months ago
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yknow i was gonna make a post about how happy I was to see the show acknowledge adhd/dyslexia/learning disability stuff and the way they handled and showed Percy's experience with that system, and how it influenced his reactions to things. But i'm honestly glad I didn't because WOW the show completely ditched all of that immediately. There was set-up for a really interesting arc about the demigods = neurodivergence metaphor and "You are singular" (pun off of "half-blood"/"demigod" and a very direct rejection of the "puzzle" metaphor for things like autism) and a very quick acknowledgement in like episode 2 of an off-hand "oh yeah all demigods are like that (adhd/dyslexic)" and then. nothing. absolutely nothing.
heck, they even changed the design of the zoo van (in the books very explicitly a black van with white text, which Percy notes specifically because white-on-black text is more dyslexia-friendly) which is a personal affront to me because That's My Dyslexia-Friendly Van, How Dare You.
i know some people have argued that maybe Annabeth pausing in the store was supposed to be her having a dyslexia moment, but if it was then we would have gotten the Dyslexia Effect™ on the text (and dont tell me they didn't have the budget for it cause HAVE YOU SEEN THEIR BUDGET FOR THE SHOW? They clearly haven't been using all of that). It's almost definitely supposed to show that Annabeth hasn't been in mortal spaces in a very long time and is, yknow, a kid, being indecisive of which snacks to buy.
i have said it before and i'll say it again: the core of PJO is disability. You can never remove that, or else it is no longer PJO. The heart of the series will always be a story made for an ADHD/dyslexic kid to help them learn about and be interested in mythology, and if you stray from that it's going to be very noticeable very fast. Almost every character in PJO has a learning disability. The entire series is framed as a way to introduce kids to mythology in a fun way and emphasize those themes of mythology being important even in modern day with how it still affects our lives, to ask you to look at what lessons we can still learn from these myths and how they apply to modern lives, and that you can be a hero not despite your disability, but alongside it. That is the core of PJO, always and forever. And the show failed that.
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solavelyan · 1 month ago
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Veilguard promo time is really highlighting how many people are actually fans of the fandom and not the games themselves
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lyriumsings · 2 months ago
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The assumptions people are making on Veilguard bc ALL decisions won’t carry over are insane to me “OH so morrigan won’t mention her ONLY SON!! or her roMANCE??”. We have no idea what context or capacity she’s going to be in the game? In skyhold, she stayed at skyhold for a while, so it made sense to chat her up and ask about her life. Also Kieran was THERE bc he was TEN. Kieran is now in his twenties and most likely living his own life. If we’re saving the world and fighting darkspawn WHY would her grown ass son come up? Esp when she doesn’t even know Rook?? Like i would understand if we had veilguard in our hands and people were complaining bc Morrigan actually had dialogue invalidating their canon but for fuck’s sake the game isn’t even out yet. They’re saying it doesn’t matter as in it’s not gonna come up bc Rook is busy doing other shit, rather than quizzing characters who aren’t companions on their lives. “What about Varric”. Varric seems to have a pre-established relationship with Rook which means you can headcanon that they already had the talk about Varric’s life story considering he called them his “second in command”. Like cancel your preorders, preorder, do whatever you want no one on the internet is the boss of you. But oh my fucking god complaining about something you don’t even fully know about is already getting so old. Best case scenario, you’re right and i guess your bitching is validated yay for you ig. Worst case, you’re wrong and like wasted so much time and energy bitching for nothing. Like I completely understand being upset the choices don’t carry over, it IS disappointing! But we don’t even KNOW what it’s going to affect if anything at all. It’s just so funny how everyone was like “it’s not about the Inquisitor” and now that the focus is confirmed to be pretty much entirely on Rook and the inquistor’s choices barely seem to matter in game and half of everybody has lost the plot bc of it and we don’t even actually know how this will affect the game like ????
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scarletspider2the2ndpower · 3 months ago
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Chasm: Curse of Kaine (Vol. 1/2024), #1.
Writer: Steve Foxe; Penciler and Inker: Andrea Broccardo; Colorist: Brian Reber; Letterer: Joe Caramagna
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ultraweirdgirl13 · 27 days ago
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I just wanna say Evan Peters is an absolutely insane actor. Like his range is DIABOLICALLY LARGE i hate how much i love it
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winteriron-trash · 4 months ago
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rdj the (whitewashed) electric boogaloo
This is a reminder to everyone who's excited about RDJ's casting as Doctor Doom that this casting is whitewashing. Victor Von Doom is a Romani character and has been a Romani character since his introduction in the 1960s. (Fantastic Four Annual #2 [1964]) Not only that, but his Roma identity and the persecution he and his family faced due to it is integral to his character, it is what forms his identity. (Books of Doom by Ed Brubaker) Even if on the off chance this casting is meant to not be Victor but instead be some variant of Tony or whomever else becoming Doctor Doom, it is damaging to the character to rob him of that important cultural background. Doctor Doom does not exist without that history. Fans have been pushing hard to cast Doom as a Romani actor for years, especially since the MCU has whitewashed other Romani characters. (Wanda, Pietro, etc) This casting is not a celebration moment, it's fucking heartbreaking that the MCU repeatedly ignores the important and nuanced cultural backstories of characters.
I know I can't change anybody's mind on whether or not you want to be excited about RDJ's return to the MCU. But I do think at the very least you should be mad that the MCU is baiting us all and destroying nuanced and interesting characters for the sake of self-referential easter eggs and nostalgia bait. Because that's what it is. Feel how you'd like to feel about RDJ's return, but personally, this is soul-sucking. I had such a deep love for the MCU as a teenager, it was obviously something incredibly formative to me, especially Tony Stark. This isn't recreating what I fell in love with the MCU for. This is turning a well-planned and artistic storyline of adaptations into cheap cash grabs and fan service. Because, I think we're past the point of being able to call the MCU an adaptation of anything. They can use existing characters' names and powers, but to say they're being properly adapted is laughable.
This is not an adaptation of Doctor Doom. This is RDJ the Electric Boogaloo because Marvel's fear of losing the interest of dedicated MCU fans overrides their willingness to tell stories that are genuine to the characters. I don't know what there is to be excited about that. The MCU has lost its authenticity and aside from a few projects, feels heartless. Every movie is a copy of a copy. This announcement isn't something celebratory, it feels like a death knell of a cinematic universe that's so desperate to cling to relevancy it's resorting to nostalgia for a character/actor who hasn't even been dead for a decade. We're not getting anything new, we're just rinsing and repeating the same song and dance.
I get it. I love Tony Stark, his death destroyed me and I to this day, rue the ending he got in Endgame. It misunderstood his arc and it robbed him of a satisfying conclusion. But the solution to that isn't dragging the corpse out of the grave five years later to whitewash an existing character with rich and interesting nuance, just to forcibly tie his existence in the MCU to Tony. Whether he is a variant or not. Why would you want someone else's fave's legacy to be destroyed simply so your fave's legacy can go on? Hell, if we were really all so hellbent on the return of RDJ and/or Tony to the MCU, we have the multiverse for a reason. There were other ways to do it that didn't whitewash and ruin someone else. This just. Isn't something to be happy about.
#... we will not be addressing that i'm a dead blog#no one say a WORD about my inactivity for 4 years this isn't about that /lh#also if anyone tries to get smart about “romani isn't a race” i don't care and you can shut up.#it's an ethnic and cultural identity. and it should be portrayed correctly.#ESPECIALLY for a character like *victor von doom* of all people. like it is fundamental to him.#i would've included panels of the comics mentioned but most of them use the g-slur and i don't wish to encourage that here#like listen i don't think you need to be a comics fan to be an mcu fan. they're so divorced from each other atp#nor do i think the mcu owes complete comic accuracy. but i do think you should at *least* care when characters are whitewashed.#look. i really don't want this to be a debate on if rdj's return is good or not#i've been frankly baffled at how many old mutuals are excited but. whatever if you want him back i get it.#but it shouldn't be like this. not at the expense of a different character.#this whole thing made me realize i'm *far* more jaded and turned off to the mcu than most of you guys are.#which is fair you can still be an mcu fan. if it brings you joy i'm so happy for you#but how does this like. bring joy i don't get it.#this is soulless. it's uninspired. it's done purely for shock value.#i occasionally get asks to this blog about why i left and asking me to come back#and i get it. i *want* to come back.#but i don't *care* about the mcu anymore. this is not the franchise i fell in love with.#i don't recognize what once meant everything to me.#winteriron will always hold a special place in my heart (as will tony stark)#but like. i just don't have love for it. and it sucks that this bullshit from marvel actively kills the love i had.#this sours tony stark to me. i'm sorry but it does. because was it really worth this? is this what his legacy has become?#this does cheapen his legacy btw. like without question. it turns him into a cheap cameo reference. heart of the mcu my ass.#my fandom circles have *massively* changed#i'm now entirely surrounded by comics fans bc my primary fandom is dc comics. that's what i'm up to these days#and the difference was actually baffling to me. everyone i follow now is *pissed* about this. comics twitter is so mad.#and then i see ppl on here excited and i'm just genuinely surprised this is something you want. i don't get it.#i don't say that to be rude. i just don't get it. how is *this* actually something people *want*.#do i still care about marvel? eh.#i like winter soldier comics and i could give a comprehensive rec list. and i read some other characters i deeply enjoy.
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kit-kat-bard · 10 months ago
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@aquaquadrant and @lunarcrown 's Hels to Pay has had me absolutely captivated, especially the recent tidbit of Imagine Dragon's Sharks being an apt Bravo song...
The fic has got me in enough of a choke hold to finish my first ever animatic! Even though my art level is below doodle and more into scribble territory lol. This idea simply would not let me rest until I brought it into the world, well done or not.
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mwagneto · 3 months ago
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anyway like fun movie made 4 me coz i get to point at the screen and go holy shit thing from the thing!!! 🫵 roughly 10 times per second but still an mcu movie which is so sad... no heart just an insane amount of references + whatever cameos they need to make ppl wanna watch it
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dungeons-and-dragon-age · 20 hours ago
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Something i'm surprised hasn't come up yet: How did Solas clean that dagger off of taint? At the very least Varric knows about the idol, pretty intimately in fact, and uh. considering the blight is a very major threat right now, wouldn't something like that be Important?
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pastafossa · 2 years ago
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🎄The Biggest Tree In All The Kitchen 🎄 (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)
Right so despite the craziness of the plagiarist and the BIGGEST BLIZZARD MY CITY HAS EVER SEEN IN ITS HISTORY, I managed to get this done! As promised, Matt and TRT’s Reader deserve a goddamn Christmas tree, and you all deserve some fluff after the rough few chapters we’ve just hit in TRT!
Rating: SFW, some language and slight innuendo and a few kisses, but other than that, just fluff and humor and Matt being absolutely determined to get you the biggest goddamn tree he can find and Foggy’s Christmas movie/ references. Wordcount: 5,855, you are going to get FED. Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader. Specifically TRT’s reader, but the fic isn’t required reading. Just know you haven’t had a Christmas in a very long time due to Enhanced Abilities reasons.
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The second Matt heard your heart skip, he made his decision.
“What do you mean, ‘it’s not a big deal?!’” Foggy bellowed, throwing his hands up as you circled the pool table for your next shot. “It’s absolutely a big deal!”
“It’s just a tree, Foggy.” You wrinkled your nose while lining up your next shot. “Ciro’s daughter was allergic, so we had a fake one. After I left at eighteen, I never saw the point of getting one if there was no one but me around. It’s not like it bothers me.”
Lie.
Matt, waiting at the bar for all of your drinks, tipped his head as he listened. Slowly, a devious plan began to form in his mind.
“I’m with Foggy. I call bullshit,” Karen laughed, her shirt rustling as if she’d just crossed her arms. “We’ve all seen you stopping at windows that had Christmas trees.”
“You look like a puppy staring up at a cookie jar,” Foggy sighed. “Tell me you and Matt are getting a tree for your first real Christmas together. I’ve seen your ceilings. You could fit a giraffe in there.”
“Or a giraffe-sized tree,” Karen snickered.
You shrugged one shoulder, eyeballing your next shot. “I figured we’d get one of those little plastic ones and put our ornaments on it. I haven’t really thought about getting a big one.”
Lie.
“I swear to God,” Foggy said grimly, “if I walk in there and see some sad little Charlie Brown plastic tree, we cannot be friends. Just admit you want a big tree.”
You took your shot, your stick sliding smoothly forward. The crack of the cueball rang out a moment later. “I admit nothing outside a court of law.”
“Or inside the court, let’s be honest,” Karen said, biting her lip. That turned into another snicker when you rolled your eyes without actually denying it.
“Swear!” Foggy demanded, jabbing a finger towards the bar where Matt stood. Matt helpfully waved. “Swear on Matthew!”
You snorted. “Foggy, I do not—”
Lie.
“—want—”
Lie.
“—a big Christmas tree.”
Huge lie.
Matt frowned.
“Besides,” you said, moving to your next shot. “All I need for Christmas is Matt and you guys. That’s all I need to be happy.”
Truth.
His lips quirked up in a little smile.
Foggy sighed. “That was sappy, even for you. Get it? Sappy? It’s because you’ve got Christmas sap inside you, I just know it. You’re one step away from dancing yourself into a Christmas movie.”
“Hey, Joe,” Matt asked, tilting his head at one of the regulars at the bar. “Do you know if those guys with the Christmas trees have set up on 43rd yet?”
“Think so,” he grunted, reaching up to scratch at his beard. “Saw them hauling their shit by earlier. Got some big fuckers this year.”
Perfect.
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“Morning, sweetheart,” he hummed as he crawled up over your blanket-covered form, dropping a fond kiss here and there to the blankets as if it were your skin.
You let out a muffled grunt but didn’t otherwise stir, buried somewhere beneath the mountain of blankets. Like this, to his senses, you were a sleepy lump, only vaguely shaped like yourself, and a lump that barely moved even when he straddled your waist. Or what he thought was your waist, anyway; it was a little hard to tell, even with his senses. He’d already tried and failed to lure you out with the scent of coffee, which meant it was time for a more serious attempt.
He leaned forward to nuzzle at what felt like your head, a sleepy growl buzzing beneath him. It took him a minute to get the angle just right as he hunted for where the heat from your breath had warmed the blankets, but eventually, he managed to orient on just how you were laying. Then he veered off to the side, aiming for what he hoped was your ear, and murmured, “I know you’re awake.”
“Birds are awake,” came the muffled, grumpy reply. “The love of my life is awake. I am not awake. ‘S eight. Come back at nine when I’m open.”
He snorted, rearing up and grabbing the blankets. Before he could so much as tug, you’d burrowed in deeper. From there it became a tug of war, as he yanked and you squirmed around beneath him, the motion oddly familiar.
“You… are you rotating—” he laughed in disbelief, and you were, growling and spinning, rolling over and over again like a rotisserie chicken, winding the blankets around yourself. A moment later he lost the blankets as the edge was yanked underneath you, every last blanket on the bed now wound around you.
“Checkmate,” you said, your smugness losing some of its impact now that you were shaped like a particularly large and beloved burrito.
He shifted around until he could pick up the massive, fuzzy cocoon you’d become. Your noise of protest was muffled, but he ignored you, settling himself back against the headboard with your blanket cocoon in his arms. But that was fine; he knew exactly how to lure you out.
“I suppose we could stay in today,” he said innocently. “I may have had something planned, but it’s not important.”
The you-shaped blanket cocoon vibrated, as if mildly curious. “…Planned?
There it was. You could never resist that tone.
“Mhm.” He sighed theatrically so that you could hear him. He had you on the line. Now he just had to reel it in, very slowly. He adjusted you until your blanket-covered legs lay over his, your body tipped sideways to lay against his chest. “I thought maybe we could go out and do a little shopping.”
You grumbled, settling in as if you were determined to fall asleep again. “‘S too early. Shops are closed.”
“Not this one.” He laid his head atop yours, and with your head still covered in blankets, there was no way for you to see his grin. Still, he kept his tone innocent as you squirmed around, getting comfortable. “Besides, Foggy told me all the good trees go early.”
The rustling went still, and even beneath all the blankets, he heard your heart start to race.
“…Tree?” you said hopefully. And yet the barest edge of skepticism lingered beneath the word as if you couldn’t quite believe you’d heard him right. “Like… a real tree?”
“Real as I can find. They open at nine.” He rolled one shoulder, his smile softening. He wound his arms around you a little tighter. “I thought we could… go look for one.”
There was a long pause, and he rubbed his hand up and down the blankets over your back. He knew this was something of a sensitive topic for you—allowing yourself to do what you wanted after having been in hiding for so long, after being alone for years. But if this was something you wanted, he’d find a way to make it happen. You deserved this, after all the things you’d missed out on in your life. It wouldn’t make up for all of it, not even close, but it was a start.
And maybe… maybe it was for him, too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a tree. Even as a kid, it was a rare thing to have enough money laying around for one. Him and his dad made do where they could, and every now and then managed to snatch up a small tree for cheap. God, those Christmases had seemed so magical, no matter how many needles fell off the patchy branches strung with paper ornaments and glittering tinsel. Funny how all that magic could drain away so quickly in a darkened alley, drain away like drying blood over cracked asphalt.
He’d lost interest in Christmas for a while, after that.
Foggy’s insistence on a dorm tree had been the first time in years he’d had one, and after that, the Nelson and Murdock office tree had been enough for him. There’d been no reason to put one up in his apartment. It wasn’t like he could see it, and he hadn’t… had anyone else who might want one. The few ornaments he’d managed to save from before his dad died hadn’t been enough of a reason to get a tree, not when it would feel… feel so empty, and remind him of just how alone he was in the world.
But now…
What would it be like to have a real Christmas, one with someone he loved, in the home that you and he had both created?
God, he wanted that with you.
“Wouldn’t the smell bother you?” you asked hesitantly, your face still hidden. The blankets, if he had to guess, had now become less of a tactic to retain warmth and more of a defense mechanism as you hunted for the catch. “Some smell really strong. Or so I heard, I haven’t, uh, really looked.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, “you’ll need more blankets if you want to hide a lie that big.”
You snorted, the blankets shaking as if you’d sneezed. The mountain of fabric began to shift as you squirmed around inside, and eventually, your head popped free, a ball of warmth and scent and stirred air currents. You rocked yourself around a little until you could get one arm free, too, and then you lifted your hand to cup his face. You considered him for a moment, as he leaned into your hand, pursing his lips to kiss your thumb fondly when it swept over his mouth. The taste and scent of your skin made him sigh, his eyes fluttering closed. And when you spoke, your heart beat truthful and steady. “I don’t want one if it’ll bother your senses. The tree’s not worth it if you’re miserable.”
Something in him softened at that, and he leaned in, dragging his nose against yours just for the way it made you smile before he tipped his head and pressed his lips to yours. He stayed there for a time, sighing with you as he pulled you in, his mouth working gently against yours. You stroked your thumb against his cheek, stubble rasping under your touch, tingling ripples of pleasure when you curved your fingers to gift him a little scratch with your nails. He let out the softest little moan, content as he’d ever been, warm and happy and loved here with you. “I love you, and thank you, my little burrito alleycat.”
“A burrito alleycat that loves you, too, Devil-man.” You kissed him again, short, fond kisses that made him feel slack and lazy, the usual aches and pains in his body fading beneath the warmth of your touch. You lifted your hand to scratch lightly through his hair, making him purr into your mouth. “Tree. Bothers those senses or no?”
He tilted his head to lazily kiss your wrist, before he groaned and lolled his head back into your hand when you hit a sore spot, his voice growing thick and glutted beneath your affection. “I, mm, may have called ahead and asked about some trees with gentler scents. They’ve got some that should work. Big ones, too.”
And oh, the way you drew in a slow breath, your fingers pausing in his hair. He knew, then, that even if there hadn’t been a mildly-scented tree for miles, it would have been worth it to travel farther still.
“A big tree?” you whispered, something like awe in your voice. “How big?”
“How big do you want?”
“I measured the apartment, we can fit an eighteen-foot tree in here right by the stairs, it’d have room to go up and spread out and there’d still be room for you to get your suit and also I found bulk ornaments for sale that we could use to fill it out until we have enough special ones of our own—”
“You… you measured—”
“I drew a diagram, do you want to feel it?” You lurched away from him and before he could catch you, you’d rolled yourself out of bed with a thunk and a low grunt, the blankets padding your fall. He listened in disbelief as you rolled along on your side, the blankets unwinding until at last, you were free.
Abruptly a laugh burst out of him as you scrambled up, darting out the bedroom door.
“Matt, put a shirt on!” you shouted, practically bouncing as you tore around the kitchen. “They open at nine, there might be a line!”
“I’m going to point out that you’re also still in your pajamas, sweetheart.”
Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump—
You raced back into the bedroom like a tree-obsessed gazelle, and he caught you with a grin as you leapt back onto the bed with him. That grin only got wider as you kissed him, kissed his cheeks and his forehead and then his smiling mouth, your hands in his hair, affection he soaked in with a quiet sigh as you whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”
“Don’t thank me just yet,” he huffed in amusement. That huff turned into a groan when you dipped to kiss along his throat, too, blatant affection along vulnerabilities that he bared only for you. He melted beneath the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, head rolling back in invitation when your warm lips passed over his pulse. “Mm, we still haven’t figured out how we’re going to get it into the apartment.”
“Trust me. I have ideas.”
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 “Not this one,” he said with a hum. “Smells too dry.”
“Not this one either.” You stepped back to narrow your eyes in thought. “Trunk is crooked.”
The worker had long since left you both alone to browse the tree lot. Even though you both had a short list of preferred trees, it had seemed wise to work your way from the front to the back and inspect every tree currently available, just in case there was a surprise hiding somewhere. One by one, the two of you had gone through a rigorous, solemn inspection with all the gravity given to one of Matt’s legal cases.
Too small.
Too many open spaces between the branches.
Needles smell like cat pee inside.
You hadn’t known that was something to worry about, but you trusted Matt’s judgement, just like you trusted the stinky cat face he made upon circling that tree in particular.
Neither of you were looking for perfect. Perfect didn’t exist, you knew. All you wanted was good: a large-ish, relatively-healthy tree, and one that wouldn’t make Matt’s nose itch or fill the entire apartment with prickly needles. You’d made note of a few potential trees, keeping them in mind as you approached the back of the lot. You’d seen a noble fir halfway down that had looked promising—it wasn’t all that tall at eight feet but it would still look good by the stairs. You were halfway into a turn, intending to track the tree down again when you saw it.
The one.
“Oh,” you breathed, your head tilting as you stared up.
And up.
And up.
Matt taped his cane as he stepped up beside you, his head tipped as he considered the tree with you, his brow furrowed.
“Scent level?” you asked him softly.
He twitched his nose, the tip of it red from the cold. “Not bad. It’s a white fir, I think. I can definitely smell it, but it’s not unpleasant. The scent’s a little like citrus, actually. Density? Shape?”
“I can’t see the trunk at all. Room for ornaments. Perfect triangle shape. Rot? Damage inside?”
He started a slow circle around the tree, his lips parted minutely as he tasted the air. With each step he tapped his cane a few times, his head tipped towards the tree as he listened to the way it resonated. You watched nervously, biting your lip as you waited. There had to be a problem with it, there had to be. No tree was perfect, especially not your first real tree.
Matt came back around the tree, humming as he returned to your side. “It’s fresh. One of the freshest here, I think, or it sounds like it. And it smells clean. No rot.”
You reached out to take a branch gently in your hand, and when you pulled your gloved fingers down the line of it, your hand came away clean and free of needles. Another test passed as you sighed longingly. “Oh, Matt, it’s perfect.”
You both stepped back, staring up. Or, well, you did. Matt stared in spirit, if not in body.
It was perfect.
It was also… absolutely huge.
If it wasn’t eighteen feet, it was damned close, easily one of the tallest trees in the lot. The tree easily towered over you both, thick branches reaching up towards the heavens as if it longed to achieve the same height as the trees of the steel-and-concrete forest around it. That presence was undeniable, and even bound as it was, it was wide: broad and thick, its branches as big around as your wrist, each needle a vibrant blue-green touched with silver. It was the type of tree you’d only ever seen in movies, likely meant for building lobbies.
Or…
…for a couple with really, really high ceilings thanks to roof access.
“We could fit so many ornaments on it,” you breathed.
“How big did you say the ceilings were?” Matt asked, the cock of his head making you think he was running the numbers himself.
“Technically twenty. I left two feet for space at the top,” you said absently, already envisioning just how you might decorate this tree. Which was ridiculous.
It wasn’t even your tree yet, the common sense voice in your mind said. Besides, there were smaller, more suitable trees back up the lot.
It would cost too much, the sensible part of you said, even though you’d… maybe sorta been setting aside money for a tree this size for months now.
It was too large to be practical, the logical section of your brain howled. It would be a nightmare to get inside. An absolute, full-fledged, Christmas nightmare.
But it could fit.
You could make it fit.
You would make it fit.
“I can hear your pupils dilating,” Matt chuckled, the corner of his mouth tilted up into a small smirk. That smirk grew into a full-blown grin when you poked him, and he leaned over to press his mouth to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is this our tree? I know you’ve been setting money aside just in case.”
You reached out longingly to pet the branches, soft needles kissing at your gloved fingertips as if to return your affection. God, even the needles were perfect, far less prickly than some of the other trees. It would make it easier for Matt to help you decorate. This tree… it was like it was made for you and him: made for your home, for his senses, for your first real Christmas since fleeing Los Angeles years ago. It had everything you wanted. It was healthy, and ready for a mountain of ornaments and tinsel and as many strings of lights as you could get your hands on.
“Do you think we can?” You bit your lip again, daring to glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “I know it’s big, and it’ll be hell getting it inside. More practical to get a smaller tree.”
“When has practicality ever stopped me?” He tipped his head, kissing your temple as you laughed, letting him wind an arm around your waist. He tapped his cane again a few times, humming thoughtfully. “It doesn’t sound like it’ll fit through our front door, but the new rooftop door’s a bit wider. If we come through that one, I think we can get it inside. We can make this work.”
“Jesus,” you breathed, staring up as he set his chin atop your head. “We’re really gonna do it. We’re gonna drag an eighteen-footer into our apartment.”
“We are.” He let out a pleased noise when you sidled in, nudging at him until he wound both arms around your waist, draping himself contentedly against your back. “There is admittedly one thing I’m not sure about.”
“What, transport?”
Matt shook his head. “I had Foggy drive over. He’s borrowing one of his family’s delivery trucks. Him and Karen should be here in about ten minutes, and they’re very excited to see what we picked out. No, the real question is…”
Oh.
“How,” you said slowly, “the fuck are we going to get this onto the roof?”
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  “Pi-vooooooot!” Foggy howled from one flight up.
“I understood that reference, so ha, but also: which way do we pivot?!” you wheezed, shoving at the tree. “Matt, push.”
“I am pushing,” he groaned from down near the base, his teeth grit, feet wide.
“I’m sor—” you started.
“Don’t you finish that sentence,” Matt growled, ducking his shoulder and heaving. The tree shivered and moved a half-inch. “You-you wanted… a-a big tree for our first Christmas, and we’re getting one, so help me God.”
“And he’s Catholic so he means that literally,” Foggy puffed, yanking at the ropes. The tree sympathetically moved another inch, its needles shivering as if in apology over its own size. “And he’s—gah—right, cause this’ll take an act of God to-to get it inside. Ok, I don’t know what direction you’re pivoting, but it’s the wrong pivot. Pivot the other way. Pivot.”
“You guys are doing great,” Karen said innocently. Probably because there was only room for three of you on the stairwell and she’d drawn the good straw.
Matt groaned again. “There are three other directions we can pivot, Foggy.” And yet he tried, tendons straining in his neck, his jaw clenched as you and him tried to shift the tree in a new direction. He was, admittedly, taking the majority of the tree’s weight of the three of you since he was the strongest, but he was also the only one who’d rather let the tree crush him to death than admit he couldn’t simply levitate it up the stairs through masochism and sheer stubbornness, so you got your own shoulder farther under it, taking more weight while Foggy decided where to go.
“Uh, left pivot, left pivot.”
There was a crunch as the three of you hit the wall.
“I swear to Catholic Jesus, Foggy,” you announced grimly, “if you Friends-pivot our tree into breaking, I will come up this tree at you like a rabid squirrel.”
“Merry Christmas, shitter was full!” Foggy bellowed, yanking hard enough that the tree, surprisingly, moved another inch. “Karen, how we lookin?”
“I’m going to get so many views on this,” Karen snickered, her phone aimed upwards.
“Karen!” Foggy barked, and you squawked beneath the increased weight of the tree as Foggy let go with one hand to point back down the stairs. The motion almost took you out until Matt shoved a leg out, bracing when your feet started to slide back, his face covered in sweat, teeth bared as if he were fighting someone in an alley and not the laws of physics and the equally dangerous laws of girlfriends who wanted very large Christmas trees. “Don’t you—ok, actually, send me this video later. But mechanics first! Status?”
“Right, you guys are, uh…”
“Are we almost to the landing?” you wheezed hopefully, spitting out a pine needle that had, somehow, wound up in your mouth.
Unfortunately, Matt was below you.
“I love you, too,” Matt said tiredly, the wet pine needle now stuck in his hair.
“Sorry.”
Karen cleared her throat, and you leaned your head over the railing… to meet her eye where she stood, roughly two inches below you. She gave you a weak thumbs up.
Matt groaned, leaning forward to faceplant on one of the branches.
“Right,” you said. “I have… a different plan.”
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  “You stole this from While You Were Sleeping, didn’t you?” Foggy said, his voice crackling through your cell’s speakerphone where you’d set it on the rooftop’s A.C. unit.
“Admitting to nothing,” you wheezed. “Just-just keep an eye on the-the tree. Right, again!”
You, Karen, and Matt all yanked.
The ropes groaned once more, drawn up taut as the three of you attempted to pull up the massive tree over the side of the building. You’d been at this for ten minutes, and managed to make it to the second story, according to Foggy. But it had taken a lot out of the three of you, even Matt. He, of course, declared that he was fine, but you’d once heard him say the same thing about a bullet wound roughly three minutes before passing out, so you took that with a container’s-worth of salt grains.
Karen growled, digging her heels in as you all huffed and puffed, Christmas spirit driving you forward like the crack of a whip. “W-when did you—ugh—say your friend was… gonna get here?”
“Not quite a friend,” you grunted, leaning back so sharply you almost rammed into Matt behind you, who was making a strange wheezing sound as he no doubt attempted to pull the entire tree up by himself despite there being two additional people. “And she just kinda—ngh—shows up if she feels like it. Fifty-fifty chance. Matt, do not tear something.”
“Can meditate—”
“No!” you bellowed, gritting your teeth as you all yanked, the rope slowly coming with you. “N-no meditating! Need your-your back healthy for ornament hanging—”
“I knew you loved me for something,” he mumbled.
“—and tree-topping—”
“And the other kind of topping,” Karen said, somehow sly despite the fact that you were all soaked in sweat and wild-eyed, smelling like pine needles and rabid determination.
“Oh my God, Karen,” you wheezed, your feet skidding on the cement.
“What? It’s true.”
“It’s fine,” Matt grunted. “She can top if my back goes.”
“Are we talking about trees or…?”
The wind picked up.
Which wasn’t that unusual. But then again, you weren’t normally all hanging onto ropes tied to an eighteen-foot hanging embodiment of all your Christmas hopes and dreams.
Just like that, the rope snapped you all forward as if a giant had taken hold and yanked. Matt crashed into you, and together, your tangled bodies took out Karen at the knees. You all tumbled forward, the rope flying free.
Oh, no you don’t.
You did not go over a decade without a fucking Christmas tree just to lose your first eighteen-footer.
You were going to have a merry fucking Christmas if it killed you.
You leapt for the rope with a snarl, and Matt, predictably sensing that, for once, he was the one with an excess of self-preservation, darted after you. You only just managed to snag the rope, throwing yourself back, your feet shoved forward to brace yourself against the edge of the rooftop. Unfortunately, while you did a lot of walking and running, you didn’t quite have the muscle to hold it. Few did.
Matt caught you a moment later, bracketing your own legs with his, his arms around you until he could grab the rope, too. And, not for the first time, you found yourself grateful for all the muscle in those massive thighs of his when he shoved his feet up against the wall, locked up with a growl, and held.
The tree lurched to a stop.
"Fuck, I love your beefy thighs," you panted. "Remind me to show them appreciation later."
He groaned, trying to lean his body back farther. "Now's not the best time—nngh—to make me think about you and my thighs, sweetheart."
“Right,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “Unless that was intentional and you tried to throw your tree down like Hans Gruber off the Nakatomi Building, I’m glad to inform you that you stopped it six inches from the ground.”
“Matt—” you panted, shoved up against Matt's chest. Karen had already caught the slack behind you both, but there wasn’t enough leverage for you both to back away. If even one of you let go… “I don’t know if we can-can make it—”
“Don’t say that!” he hissed, muscles straining, his chest heaving at your back. “I-I can save it, we need the tree, so we can have Christmas like you wanted—”
“The only thing I need for Christmas is—nngh—you, Matt.”
“Should I be filming?” Karen panted. “This is-is touching, but—”
“Really?” Matt asked you quietly. “You’d be happy… even if we—”
“I’m always happy with you.” You leaned your sweat-soaked head back against him, twisting as best you could to kiss his chin. “Tree, or no tree.”
“Jesus Christ, that was disgusting. You owe me an extra bottle for this.”
The rope suddenly tore free from your hands—
—and snapped taut as someone lifted it up and began to pull.
And it went, with all the ease of a dog being tugged along on a Sunday stroll.
“Holy shit,” Karen whispered.
“Karen, Matt,” you puffed, waving back. “This is—”
“I’m not drunk enough for introductions so don’t bother,” Jessica grunted as she walked backwards, casually winding the rope around one hand as she considered the bottle in her other hand, one you’d left by the door as an offering in hopes that she might smell what amounted to paint thinner and show up like the world’s most foul-mouthed elf. “Not my usual shit, but it’ll do.”
“Second one will be delivered to your office as promised,” you panted, still leaning back against Matt.
“Now it’s three for having to listen to that sappy display. Now unless you want that tree to fuck you into the ground, I’d get the hell away from the edge before it comes up.”
You and Matt both scrambled out of the way as the first branches appeared over the edge, and even Karen took a few steps back.
“Right, I have no idea what’s happening,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “But holy shit, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”
“Open this,” Jessica said, shoving the bottle into your hands as she walked back down the rope, hand over hand before she got to the edge. She shoved one hand over the edge, snorting once she got a good look at the tree. “Shit, you’re one of them, aren’t you? Christmas psychopath.”
You shrugged one shoulder, unscrewing the top of the bottle—God knew it wasn’t expensive enough to need a cork or have a bottle cap. “If I’m in, I’m in.”
“Go big or go home,” Matt said, his grin only barely hidden behind mock solemnity.
“Applies only to good fucks and bottles,” she snarked back, casually lifting the eighteen-foot tree in one somehow-disgusted hand, pulling it up and over the roof like one might pluck up a filthy, crusted spaghetti noodle from the floor.
Karen’s eyes were wide, and even Matt had tilted his head beside you. “Is she…?”
“She is,” Karen breathed. “Jesus. I guess that’s one way to get the tree up here.”
“Don’t count on this next year. And you owe me, even with the booze.” She grunted and tossed the massive tree down, dusting her hands off. The sap on her fingers made her scowl. “Why everyone’s obsessed with nature is beyond me.”
“Christmas nature,” you corrected. “At least it’s not the giant turtle guy. I heard he’s gone to you since I wouldn’t go down again.”
“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. “He’s been in my office three times in the past month ranting about them coming up out of the sewers.”
You handed her the bottle as she passed you by, throwing her a salute, as did Karen. “Thanks for the help.”
“Remember: two bottles, my office. Then we’re even.”
“It was nice to meet you,” Matt said, the corner of his mouth tilting up as if he already knew the response that was coming.
“Nicer to leave,” she said, waving one hand before disappearing down the stairs, leaving nothing but the tree and the scent of discount whiskey in her wake.
“She sounded lovely,” Foggy said. “And also hilarious. Can we invite her to the Nelson and Murdock Christmas party? Is the tree up there at least?”
You stared at the tree.
The tree now on the roof.
“Matt, I’d open your arms,” Karen said with a grin. “Incoming.”
Matt grinned and pivoted, throwing his arms open as you leapt up into them. He spun you both in a big circle, your laughter torn away by the wind, the first snowflakes of the day beginning to drift down. “Fuck, we did it, Matt! We got our Christmas tree!”
“If my girl wants a big tree, she gets a big tree,” he said, his grin softening to a smile when you buried your hands in his hair, dark strands dusted with white, and tipped his head up so you could kiss him warmly, safely held in his arms, and if your eyes were maybe a little wet, he wasn’t willing to say anything but, “Love you, sweetheart.”
There was a quiet click as Karen took a picture.
“Thank you,” you whispered, as his nose brushed against yours. “Thank you for giving me a real tree, Matt.”
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It took time to get it inside, but once you managed, things came together perfectly. It was the perfect height, filling the open space with a mass of brilliant blue-green touched with silver, its branches stretched wide. It took you and Matt a good ten strands of lights to wrap the whole thing and at least five boxes of standard ornaments. Here and there, between them all, hung more personal touches:
Paper ornaments, carefully folded and cut by quiet memory alone.
A little penguin couple in Santa hats, flippers held tight above both script and braille that read, ‘Our First Christmas.’
And now…
“I like this one,” you murmured, hooking the final ornament onto the tree and standing back. Matt wound his arms around your waist, his head on your shoulder. “I’m glad Karen took that picture.”
“Do we look happy?” he asked you quietly. “Is it… does the tree look right?”
And you heard the unspoken:
Did I do this right?
You turned and let your gaze slide over his face. He looked… more content than he had in a long, long time. And yet there was a hint of vulnerability there, too, hidden beneath the softened glow of the Christmas lights, painted in shades of red and green and blue. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his cheek, and he turned, nuzzling in so he could kiss you back. “It’s the perfect tree,” you told him softly. “It’s bright and full of colors with all the lights and our ornaments. All our little ones look even more special. It looks like something out of a movie, or a Christmas card. It’s exactly what I wanted.”
He sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder and relaxing at last, as you lifted your hand to brush through his hair. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
“Merry Christmas, Matt. And here’s to many more, until we’re old and grey.”
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ratatatastic · 3 months ago
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"Battle of Alberta, right? It was my first game: Calgary, Edmonton. We would play them in the preseason, and you know—trying to make the team I'd always be asking him to fight in preseason, always. I'd be runnin' my mouth—like, tryna fight the biggest, baddest guys, tryna make an impression.
And he would never fight me. He'd always tell me, like If you make the team, I'll fight ya. You don't have to worry about that, but I'm not fightin' ya preseason. And I totally respect it, I'm not gonna chase him down. It is what it is. He's established—I'm looking for my chance.
So I get called up, we're playing Edmonton in Edmonton: Battle of Alberta. [He's] over there on the other side, and it's like the coolest thing ever... you know, the buildup was crazy 'cuz I knew if the opportunity presented itself—if the game went the way I hoped it would, I would get an opportunity to fight him.
I remembered in warmups tryna skate by the redline initially just kind-of gettin' a feel for it—to see if I have to say something or whatever... He's got no bucket on, his big, bald head is glarin' around, he skates by the redline with the biggest smile on his face, and just gives me the biggest wink...
At that moment I knew Okay, he remembers. It's gonna happen at some point.
We were up 1, I think it was 2-1 going into intermission or whatever—Oh, no, I think it was 1-1 and we had just scored so the position I'm like Yeah, I don't know if I can fight him now because we have the momentum and we're winning the game. I don't want to lose a fight, then we lose a game and now I'm, like, never getting a chance again.
You kind-of gotta play the game within the game like [...] there's an opportunity to fight, and there's an opportunities where you shouldn't fight. Things weren't looking good, then they score and now we need a spark. I'm like Fucking perfect.
I just skate by their bench and I'm like It's time, big boy! He jumps out, we line up, and he goes We squarin' up or we goin' right away?
I'm like I'm not fuckin' squarin' up with you right now! We're goin' right away!
Drop em, we go right away, grab each other. I know he's a lefty so he's gonna let go—let's go of my right arm before he throws one. I threw one. Big boy went down, he jumped back up pretty quick. I don't know, I tell people all the time, I'm like I would've been in the league fuckin' 2 years earlier if there was good footage of this fuckin' fight!
For some reason—For some reason, the cameras cut out. I don't know if [he] had his cousins working the cameras or something that night, or if they're in the video room or what happened.
That was my first NHL game.
It's funny 'cuz Chucky was there—Chucky's there and he knows, he saw, he always laugh when I say that I would've been in the league earlier 'cuz he knows how things like that go. You get a little bit of energy and buzz around ya, and then kind-of momentum takes you a little bit further but unfortunate[ly], I missed that opportunity but I don't regret a thing.
[...]
The opportunity was there, I just��unfortunately, for whatever reason, the Hockey Gods said not yet." (Ryan Lomberg reminiscing over his first NHL game/fight) (x)(x) (please go watch the second link to see lombos giant smile as he tells this story jfc)
and other genuinely bonkers things to say about a hockey player in your first fight... like why did this need to be said like that...what
#ryan lomberg#lombo what the fuck#for the sake of clarity lombo does refer em by name but i think its funnier to obscure it in this case for people who dont know who it is#im sure edm and the bald description gave it away of who it is#but youll never fucking guess who this bitch is waxing poetic about#the wha the huh#HIM??????#WE'RE ROMANTICISNG THAT FUCKIN GUY??? REALLY????#i hate it here#this just in the guy you adore just said the horniest shit about the worst person you know#completely forgot they both were on the flames at the same time its been erased from my memory#(guy who does not pay attention to anything that is not pantr related)#but also matthew giggling about lombos little I WOULDVE BEEN HERE EARLIER IF THE CAMERAS WORKED RIGHT#how dare we lose him to calgary again HOW DARE#hello special little matthew cameo#the homoeroticism of it all#the inherent homoeroticism of hockey fights#why did he describe it like that#do you know what “scrappy ahler tries to make it big by fighting everyone in sight to impress staff and even challenges the enforcer vet#knowing itll make him look good if he does and said enforcer vet does not give him the time of day and goes i promise ill fight you when yo#get called up during the regular season not now and to which said scrappy ahler gets called up during the regular season and doesnt expect#much but gets completely surprised when the vet 1. remembers who he is 2. the promise he made and 3. even gives him a cheeky wink about it.#and the game is chippy from the start the ahler isnt sure theyll be able to fight hin but low and behold the hockey gods bless him#and he does he even gets to decide the rules AND wins it in one punch. the downside? none of it was filmed.#but the memory of that vets wink rings clear“ does to me man?#also. a classic case of hockey gods giveth. hockey gods taketh away.#sweetheart you can be gay AND also want your cool fight filmed honey youre asking for too much#yeah lombo does like calling men bigboy yeah that's a thing
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sesamenom · 9 months ago
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Some design sketches for Bilbo and Lobelia, plus a bonus thorin
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age-of-moonknight · 29 days ago
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love ur blog!!! so curious how you keep up with every new moon knight and even just moon knight adjacent comic, do you get notified from somewhere/thing or do you just read all new comics 😂
Thank you for sending in an ask and I'm so glad you enjoy this blog! :D As for how I keep up with comics, 😅 well uuuuuuh
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but no, in all seriousness hahaha, I'm not quite the most well-informed comic reader out there, as there are plenty of fans who are far more attuned to upcoming solicits, while I tend to let myself be surprised week to week (perhaps why I was late to Moon Squire's official debut by a several months hahaha). I usually start with the Marvel wiki, though. I poke around in the "Appearances" and "Minor Appearances" sections for the characters I'm interested in to see what issues they show up in, read those issues, and then get an idea of what sort of series they're involved in. I'll also use the more general search function to investigate related characters or non-616 "variants." I'll branch out from there to whatever other fan sources I can dig up to see if I missed anything. Then it's just a weekly thing! I check what issues are dropping each Wednesday, particularly keeping an eye out for the monthly releases of ongoing series I'm tracking (which btw MOON KNIGHT: FIST OF KHONSHU VOL. 2 THIS WEDNESDAY LET'S GOOOOO), but I'll also skim through anything I think might be interesting or looks promising. Then throughout the week I will occasionally refresh those "Appearances" pages on the Marvel wiki to catch any late updates or cameos I completely did not foresee happening. Personally though, I only track that closely for the characters I have read every appearance of and would like to stay caught up on (e.g. Moon Knight, 616!Peter Parker, Kaine, Robbie Reyes, and someday, SOMEDAY I'll get caught up on Man-Thing comics too).
So yeah, my process, if you can call it that, doesn't involve any sort of notifications, I just have,,,,,Many tabs open in a designated "comics" section that I frequently refresh hahaha
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movedtodykedvonte · 1 year ago
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The only thing missing from across the spiderverse was a Man-Spider cameo where all the Spider-people (including Miguel) being either terrified of him EXECPT Miles who is more like “So how does his secret identity work?”
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samhainvenus · 9 months ago
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GEORGIE!? "THAT PODCAST"!? INTER DIMENSIONAL TIME TELEPORTATION!? GERRY AND GERTRUDE!? T H E E X T I N C T I O N ! ?
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