#heli i love you and your art
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when @helijpspsps boy Martyr makes my Boy sky have a mental breakdown on Twitter and i jokingly wanted memes of him crying.
@helijpspsps came through. Love their art, they make everything so much fun on twitter too.
Art: Heli ( @helijpspsps )
Sky belongs to me.
#undertale au#dream sans#dreamtale#dreamtale au#fallentale#ink sans#inktale#inktale au#spilled dreams#orginal au#underswap sans#underswap#underswap au#spilled dreams au#fallentale au#orginal oc#orginal character#orginal art#heli i love you and your art#heli you’re the best#sky sans
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JSAB Gift Exchange
Further information below the cut. Sign up here!
Making artwork for other people like a "secret santa," but not expressly holiday themed. Mass art trade, if you will!
Rules
Must have a reference of how you draw JSAB character(s) or your OCs. Doesn’t need to be a turnaround, just a colored fullbody is fine! (Or, if you don't have a character, fill out this form instead.)
You are welcome to submit a non-JSAB OC if you feel they fit the general aesthetic. (Ex, geometric looking creatures from object shows.)
No sexual content, period. All ages event. Blood & other darker themes are ok if your assignment is comfortable with that, since these are present in the base game.
No bigotry
All skill levels & mediums are welcome. Please be kind to each other. Unkindness can bar you from entering future events.
It’s preferred to keep your assignment a secret, so your art is a surprise for them!
Timeline
September 30 form opens for 3 weeks
October 19 form closes
October 26 assignments are sent out via Tumblr message
November 16 reminders are sent, progress check-in
November 30 final art is due
Please let Thunder (host) know if you need to drop off the event for any reason, preferably minimum 2 weeks before due date. She will try to make up art for any drops.
This is Thunder’s second year hosting an art gift exchange. The first was a general one on ToyHouse with 20 participants. She has been doing freelance commissions & coordinating other online events for 5+ years.
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Optional art theme: cozy, family time, bountiful harvest (Relating to the fall season, not specific holidays like Thanksgiving.)
Thunder does not have the time/energy to maintain a discord server for this event, sorry. But I’m more than happy to talk 1:1, or if you have a small server of JSAB friends I’d love to join!
Image descriptions of your gifts are not required to participate, but they are highly encouraged. Here is a video and short article about how to make them. Message me for help if you need it. Basically they explain the content & context of your drawing. Make a good ID, and that piece of fandom is now accessible to screen reader users!
For comics & other complex interactions, I typically write a short fiction piece of the event / core content, not an exact image description.
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Comic Transcript:
“Hello..? Heli, are you sure this thing’s, uh..?”
“If the light’s blinking that means it’s on.”
There is a series of watercolored drawings. Cube tilts her head to the side, looking concerned.
“AAH! Sorry, hello there!”
She stands straight upright, holding out a piece of paper to look over. She looks it over with wide eyes.
“I come bearing news of a gift exchange! Two, actually, well, possibly two, depending on.. Ehm…”
She leans forward to re-read her notes, squinting in concentration, cat ears tilting back. Cyan points at the spot she’s looking for.
“Ah!! Ok, so. It says here that you fill out the Google form with your.. characters? Or how you draw us? And then you’ll be contacted on October 26th to draw for someone else.”
Cyan beeps, pointing at a spot further down the paper.
“Oh!! Sorry, not just drawings, you can also write or sew. Or make music, ooh! Is that like, writing a battle theme for someone?”
She looks over to Cyan excitedly, ears sticking up with alert. He just shrugs. She turns back to the camera.
“Ok, well, ah, have fun!!”
Cube waves goodbye to the camera.
#jsab#just shapes and beats#jsab cube#jsab cyan#jsab square#jsab blixer#jsab oc#jsab au#described#id in alt#id below the cut#JSAB Blocchetto
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Hello Science Heroes!!
It started with a boy being raised by scientifically tempered parents, on an abandoned island near the edge of an extinct volcano and in a gravity well.
The grand life of Tom Strong begins here. And the adventures continue as he battles exotic alien ants, fire people from the deep earth, a digital god from another universe, an ancient (like beginnings-of-life ancient) beasty and more. His adventures take him to deep jungles where he meets alien snails who hide in shells of ancient temples, into the world of the dead and into dimensions where his counterpart is a rabbit.
He encounters a variety of people … dimensional beings, three eyeD farmers on a mesa, a race of bat people living on the moon and of course, the flying squad of nazi superwomen. Heh, yea!
His family – a beautiful and strong wife, and an irrepressible daughter, with a British english speaking gorilla (at least that’s what I think it is) and a robot butler. Now if that doesn’t blow your socks off, I don’t know what will.
Brought to you in comic book format by Alan Moore with his fantastic storytelling and art by Chris Sprouse, this work far exceeds the boundaries of comic books in the superhero genre.
In my mind, what makes Tom Strong one of the finest comic book heroes is not the fact that he fight science villains, and monsters and men and aliens and men who are self replicating things – but he rehabilitates them – turns foes into friends. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a lesson we could all use in our lives.
Oh and apart from his way to cool Hypersaucer, his Heli-vest, his Pneumatic butler (Pneuman), his Entropy Gauntlets – the one thing I would love to get my hands on – Molecular Agitators. Read the comic to know why! And don’t forget the Goloka.
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1. Are you named after anyone?
nope
2. What was the last time you cried?
like a few months ago?
3. Do you have kids?
no
4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?
maybe a little too much
5. What sports do you play/have you played?
i tried a lot of sports as a kid, some (kick box, rock/wall idk climbing) i wanna get into again but i don't have the motivation and time. currently i go swimming twice a week but who knows how long i'll keep that up
6. What’s the first thing you notice about someone?
their expression ig?
7. What’s your eye color?
brown
8. Scary movies or happy endings?
scary movies! i love tragedies and horror <3
9. Any special talents?
uh not that i can think of rn?
10. Where were you born?
Hazádnak rendületlenűl Légy híve, oh magyar; Bölcsőd az s majdan sírod is, Mely ápol s eltakar.
A nagy világon e kivűl Nincsen számodra hely; Áldjon vagy verjen sors keze; Itt élned, halnod kell.
11. What are your hobbies?
art mostly, and i like reading about/watching history (20th century) but i also wanna get into making more jewelry, gardening, being more consistent with sports/working out and watching a shit ton of horror movies. so uh. yeahg
12. Do you have pets?
one really fucking stupid dog who i love so so much <3
13. How tall are you?
around 164 cm which is like 5'4 i think
14. Favorite subject in school?
i always hated school, but as a topic literature and history. plus in middle school i loved english (2nd language) bc my teacher was awesome
15. Dream job?
freelance artist ig? i wanna work on comics and illustrations, but i also wanna do tattoos and do theater shit with writing/set design so yeah. lot of things, we'll see how far i get
i was tagged by @dykevirgo w 15 questions for 15 moots!
1.are you named after anyone? no but my middle name has been passed down thru my family!
2. what was the last time you cried? i actually have an exact date bc i keep a cry log lmao june 19
3. do you have kids? no and i don’t want any 🙏
4. do you use sarcasm a lot? yes i am like if a dad wasn’t an asshole
5. what sports do you play/have you played? i swim for my highschool and throw for the track team
6. what’s the first thing you notice about someone? their height? idk depends on how close i notice them
7. what’s your eye color? blue :/
8. scary movies or happy endings? happy endings are soooooo 💞💕
9. any special talents? i can lick my elbow
10. where were you born? san antonio texas babeyyyy
11. what are your hobbies? knitting, reading, drawing
12. do you have pets? yes a dog and a crested gecko!
13. how tall are you? 5’8 or 172cm
14. favorite subject in school? history and biology!
15. dream job? marine biologist 🪼🦑🐋🪸
no pressure tags: @nonbinarywillow @twentythreesocks @axelotyls @meloneta @koheletgirl @nazumichi @zukkaoru @that-was-anticlimactic @fagpireautism @sunshine-fruit-of-the-vine @divorcedzukka @fixingher @cowgirlwizard @dreaming-while-asleep
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I bought a house in the middle of nowhere
“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.” It was something akin to that, at least. He didn’t mean any mischief, no deceit or planning. It was an honest take on what, at the time, was true. I saw the road into town on Google Maps, noted that it was closed during the winter, acknowledged the reality that a person can own a snowmobile, and I said, “we are not moving there.” But, all good truths are just dares in the making.
And here I am, living in the “there” I said I would not. Two years ago, I left my job at Headspace for a life reset. It was pre-pandemic, and Ben and I were planning a big road trip. Our perfect paradise in Topanga, CA, had crystallized itself as many people’s perfect paradise, and those “many people” all had more money than us. Our options to buy a home were nil, and home-buying was essentially all we wanted. Ben’s a builder and I’m a world builder, and we wanted somewhere to invest that didn’t belong to someone else. We packed the car with the tent and the bikes and the dog and all the things that come with tents and bikes and dogs, and off we went on our own Tour de l’Ouest, looking for a place to call home. We knew what we wanted, knew our odds of finding it, and hit the road anyway. Here was the dream list — concocted by two pie-in-the-sky dummies who married each other:
Not rainy or consistently windy
Notable access to the arts
Remote and challenging to get to/close neighbors
Wild West influenced architecture
Progressive community
Exceptional trail access out the front door
High-speed internet
In our budget
And my personal favorite: had to “feel right” Good luck to us with a list like that, but thus began our hunt. We camped in the snow, tried every dirty chai in the Rockies, and explored every town we could. Whatever a good time it was, it felt useless. Every town Ben was OK with, I hated. Every town I was OK with, Ben despised. And the few places we both loved required money we just didn’t have. We came home with our sails down, limping into the harbor of our rental. But as is the way with romantics, our dreams began to slowly eclipse our reality. Books fell victim to Zillow and Trulia. TV was replaced by the MLS. All writing time was dedicated to Realtor.com. Hours were spent pouring over maps, county records, and updating spreadsheets that tracked price per square foot compared to beds and baths. Over time, all that internetting led to one singular town of 180 people at 10,000 feet in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado with a road that said “Closed Winters” on Google Maps. Look, I don’t know what happened. Ben found this town on a map, I said don’t be ridiculous, and after a year or so of him telling people I'd never move here, here I am, being ridiculous. Was it reverse psychology? Maybe. Was it the charming “town plan” that mandated all houses be rustic cabins and forbade AirBnB? Could be. Was it the fact that when I looked at Strava’s Heatmap, it showed what seemed like thousands of miles of trails just out the front door? I mean, yes. All these things played a part, but all I know for certain is that one day I woke up and said, “we’re going to move there.” Ben doubted this conviction (and the realities behind it) thus cementing it into place in my head. In a town of 180 people there’s only ~60 houses, which means maybe 2 or 3 get listed per year — but my spreadsheet had the proof: we hadn’t missed our chance yet in this tiny town. The data showed a strong likelihood there would be at least two houses listed within the calendar year. This, however, was also our last chance. The spreadsheet also showed that if we didn’t find a house this year, we wouldn’t be able to afford one the next. We called a realtor, made our case, and harangued her until she believed us that we were truly the kind of yahoos who would move to an avalanche field and stay there. And then it happened. A pocket listing. It was a darling home built in 1890. It had the beds, the baths, and the views. We were the first and only to know. We put in an offer, they agreed, and we would come to see the house in a few weeks. But in those few weeks, the circumstances changed. The sellers lost their own sweet deal, and they couldn’t sell yet. Their agent promised we had right of first refusal, it was only a matter of time. Ben lamented, I preached patience, and we went to see the house that was no longer for sale anyway.
It was a quiet winter morning in Covid when we drove across the packed snow to meet our realtor outside the house. The sun was out and the 13 degrees Fahrenheit felt warm. I unzipped my jacket, mask on my face. I took long videos and talked about where I would set up my office and where we’d put the bikes. As we closed up and I settled into a future where this house would eventually be mine, our realtor told us there were comps in the area — other residents quietly interested in potentially closing out. Would we like to see them? Sure, let’s.
One home came with an incredible commercial kitchen. The whole house was a whopping 3500 sq ft if my memory serves me correct, which falls under the category of “houses too big to find your cat in."
Another home had an open-air-to-the-kitchen bathroom.
The third was dark and overpriced with cracked windows and open beer cans scattered about.
And then, plans changed. “Hey guys, there’s actually one more house we can see.” The last house we saw was a log cabin, nestled in the hillside by itself, with massive A-frame windows looking out onto the peaks beyond. Inside was a labyrinth of a life lived long and large. The cabin was built and loved by a man we’ll call Jack. Jack was 82, and as we walked toward the front door on that sunny winter morning, he exited with two beers in his pockets, headed to the mountain to ski. Jack was an attorney — in his life he’d been both criminal and defender — and from the stories, somewhat interchangeably. There were artifacts from running in the same scenes as Hunter S. Thompson and Willie Nelson; there were stuffed birds, bad books, sheet-covered couches, smoked spliffs, and piles and piles of mouse shit. Every inch of the house was lived in, and not just by people. You think millennials like plants? No. This man likes plants. The biggest monstera deliciosa I’ve ever seen, spanning some 10 feet wide and 15 feet tall. Draping cactuses, spider plants, massive aloes, and an ambitious hoya carnosa clawing its way to the top of the massive fireplace. But there were problems. I’m trying to be diplomatic saying the house was lived in. The wood by the door handles was dyed black from years of hand grease rubbing against it. The carpet in the upstairs was soiled almost everywhere with bat scat. Newspaper was stuffed between the massive logs to keep the wind out. There was cardboard taped over almost every window, blankets nailed over the others. Half the doors wouldn’t open. It was unnerving to touch the crusted light switches. It was early enough in the season of Covid-fear that touching anything felt like gambling. On our way back to our rental in the bigger neighboring town, we shared our awe and our no-ways, lamenting how long we’d have to wait for the little 1890s fixer upper. That night, I sent the video I took of the cabin to my parents. “Can you believe this?” I asked. And do you know what my dad said? “Great log construction.” After that, the cabin was all we could talk about. “Could you believe those plants?” “Did you see how big those logs were?” “I just googled Jack, look at this.” “Do you know what the insulating factor of logs is?” “How much did he say he was asking?” It came down to the plants. Amidst all the chaos in that house, the tender care of those decades-old plants sung the clearest. This wasn’t just a place Jack lived in, it was a place that wanted to be lived in. We made an offer the next day.
Jack had six months to clear out his 30 odd years of collecting, and the town had six months to speculate about the worrisome Californians moving to their high-altitude, high-risk town. The town itself is an old mining town. It rests in a high valley, surrounded by peaks over 13,000ft, and is over six hours from the nearest major airport. Five people died around this town in avalanches this past year. The dirt road into town is littered with avalanche fields, warning visitors to not stop when driving in. The other way out is a pass road, only drivable in the warm months, but you could skin out if it was dire. Most August days, the high is in the mid-60s. The valley is blanketed in wildflowers, and the aspens littering the mountainsides suggest a promising fall display. The town had a heyday, a low day, and now it’s a community of preppers, adventurers, appreciators, and “get all these idiots away from me”ers. We don’t know these people yet, but the ones we’ve met have the same like to live hard attitude we do. Heli-ski guides, ex-CIA agents, woodworkers, bakers, teachers, just a general can-do group of people. The kind of people that see a California license plate and peer with skepticism between the thin gap over their sunglasses and under their caps.
You might say I’m romanticizing the place, but the residents are worse. Like all good old-timers, they’re full of threats: “wait’ll you see the snow drifts,” “let’s see how you do outrunning an avalanche,” “good luck with the winds,” “the last Californians didn’t last a year.” God, what does that remind me of?
“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.”
With every taunt, my teeth ground more enamel, fingers rolling into a clench. And maybe Jack recognized this intensity, because on the day of closing, he hosted a gathering for us in the town's open space. He had us introduce ourselves to the skeptical locals, and I made my case in court, eyes narrowed and lips curled. “I’m the daughter of a smokejumper and wildlife biologist. I grew up watching the wind and the door. I’ve lived in big cities, small boats, and more than one cabin. I always take the stairs, I never use air-conditioning, and I’m a very good shot.” I’m just a girl, standing in front of a town, asking them to give her a fucking chance. Jack stepped forward to speak. “You know, I had my doubts about a couple Californians coming to look at my house. But these people? These are the nicest people you’re ever gonna meet.” And then I helped Jack set up his cot so he could spend his last night under the stars in the town that kept him young. Cooper ran circles with the other dogs. People brought homemade cocktails and bowls of dip and we felt welcomed. Even the mayor, a fellow writer, came and she struck up a conversation. “I hear you’ve got a little bit of a following on social media!” She teased. “I guess, nothing wild.” “Well I just wanted to let you know if you ever geotag this town, I’ll drag you out of it.” She grinned. This was a special place. And every visitor who couldn’t handle the realities of being here threatened the very wellbeing of the people who lived here. This town survives on a delicate balance. They source their own water, manage their own roads, and fervently protect the land and the people around them. Their stories about racing avalanches, snowmobiling in the dark of night to the doctor’s house, hunkering down in each other’s homes as the storms pass — these stories were bylaws. You can join when you’ve proven you’re ready to join. By their own projection, they are hardy and steadfast people, and when they see a Californian, they see something fleeting. Many years ago, I worked in the British Virgin Islands. The people born and raised there were called Belongers. At the customs office, the placards above the lines literally read, “If you belong, stand here” and “If you do not belong, stand here.” Whether or not we belong isn't up to the town council, and it's not up to these residents. It's up to years spent drifting my old Mustang in the snow on the way to school, up to Ben's months and months spent in the backcountry, up to my years of reading fire reports and assisting with evacuations, up to Ben's ability to read the landscape and the weather, up to my doggedness, his diligence, and our pathological love to do difficult things well. It’s up to us, to these old logs, and to this valley. Doesn't mean we'll belong, but it does mean we'll try. And for the record, the road is open in the winter. But do these sound like the kind of people who’d tell Google that? Next week, a tour of the house that we get to call ours — stuffed with newspaper, run by plants, and filled with mice. P.S. Here's where we get our mail.
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Hi💕 can i get a matchup for free! & blue exorcist please?!
Age: I'll be 18 on may 3rd
Pronouns: she/her
Gender of match: male
Likes/Dislikes: I love, play or played a lot of sports, I play or dabbled in soccer, basketball, volleyball, gymnastics, tennis, motocross, surf, hockey, ice dancing, & I skateboard, I'm obsessed with wellness & fitness so I enjoy working out & things like yoga. I'm bit of a adrenaline junkie so I am a slut for things like rollercoasters, trampolines, ATVs, laser tag, bungee jumping, paragliding, heli-skiing & zero gravity flight. I'm into "techy' stuff too like drone racing, video games, coding & VR systems, I consider myself more artsy though, art is my life, I've always had a talent for singing & dancing & I actually attend a performing arts school, I love going to the mall & splurging on food, sneakers, tracksuits, basketball shorts & crop-tops, (that's all I own lol) I collect cute charms & key chains, I throw slumber parties a lot they're my jam, I need boba & cinnamon rolls to survive, I'm lowkey a stoner. I love sci-fi & fantasy movies but my favorite movie ever is clueless, I love to travel & daydream
You can match me with anyone! Thanks again, can't wait! 💗💗💗
Favorite song: Wannabe by the Spice girls (don't ask lol)
Thank you for requesting 💜
Free! I match you with.... Rin!
He would love to work out with you ( he would probably think of dates around it). He likes your sarcasm (he thinks it's cute and funny). He loves your confidence and independence. He would also definitely take you to theme parks (although he might not go on all the rides lol). He has been so interested in you when he first met you, and just loves you so much.
Blue exorcist I match you with... Rin!
He will always ask you to help him train (although that's an excuse to get to spend more time with you). He loves loves your personality because it's a lot like his. He will be by you as much as he can ( although he will give you space if you need it). He is also the type to just talk about you to people because he is so proud to date you. You both would be so cute together.
I hope you like it 🖤
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Just because it's stuck in my head: Nil/Helis + Knife (- bonecutter)
It was stuck in my head too, so I've just spent 90 minutes typing this up and thanks, I hate it. (putting this under a cut because it's long, and also a whole lot of Nil just being...Nil)
A bird cry rings through the night. A sharp trill, carrying far over the rustling leaves and the soft murmur of the nearby river, familiar enough so it could pass for just another note in the song of the darkness but still so strange it stands out to an eager listener. Another answers from further away. Nil exhales. He was right. They are moving tonight.
In that, they’re predictable. Boring, almost. A tribe is struggling to protect their border, and they’re drawn to that opening like flies to a wound, and there they settle and fester and multiply, turn into maggots eating away at the lands and people surrounding them. Everyone agrees that infection needs to be cleaned, the wound burned and cauterised. He simply follows the call, aiming to reduce them to what they always were, in the most final way: carrion.
It was not always like this, waiting in the underbrush for what can never be a long enough fight, a good enough plea in the eyes of those whose blood he’s claiming, an appraisal that will never come. Once, in a different life, under a different name, he was celebrated. Loved, even. Nil is the armour he donned the day they marched him out the gates of Sunstone Rock, your time is over, don’t come back, and it is all he’s ever been since.
The years he spent in the heat of the stone cells stripped him to his core, left nothing but his skill and the raw desire to use it, see the power he holds in his hands clear in those last desperate gasps he savours. What he was before—soldier, saviour, champion—is nothing more than whispers now, stories he has left behind.
All but one.
The trill sounds again, so close Nil can almost hear their footsteps now, and he draws the knife from his belt. Curved blade, the steel carefully inlaid with fine engravings, a polished wooden handle fitting snugly into his palm, it feels like a part of him, and in a way it is. Sunstone Rock has taken much from him, but this, it didn’t. Couldn’t. What’s your knife called, that Nora huntress he’d picked up for a passing partner had cheekily asked, and he’d replied with a question of his own, why would someone name a knife? She fights and kills well, if a little disappointing for a lack of pride, disgust even in their shared craft, but there is nothing about her that would compel him to share what he wears underneath the surface.
Of course, the blade has a name. His weapons are companions to him more than people are, with personalities of their own. Where The Voice of Our Teeth is sharp, impatient, eager to spring death from his fingers, The Bite of Our Hands is slow and deliberate, relishing in the intimacy of those final moments, a battle won and lost all at once in merely a question of sides. Killing is an art to him, and his knife one of his greatest means of expression.
It was not always his. Nil was but a lowly soldier then, remarkable only in his recklessness and efficiency, but it was enough to draw his eye. A killer recognises another killer, a truth the Nora huntress still has to learn. During the height of the raids, Helis took an interest in him—his skill, first, his person later—and as the months went by, they shared their passions. The Terror of the Sun and the Stalker in the Shadows, favoured by the Sun-King himself. Association turned to admiration, and finally, affection, presented in the gift he has carried with him ever since, a token of Helis’ love: the knife.
Then Jiran was killed and Helis fled, and for the longest time Nil didn’t know if he survived. He swore to die for him once, but what does it matter if death has already claimed him in his absence? So he stayed, facing Avad’s mercy and justice and the relentless heat on the Rock.
There are rumours floating past him now, rumours from the other side of the Daybrink, where the Shadow Carja have found refuge. They whisper of their leaders, young Itamen and the priests and a warrior, a man Nil has known so intimately before, and he has wondered if he should pursue them through the desert, to see the truth of it, but he hesitates. He’s no longer the soldier he was, and if the Nora girl is to be believed, neither is Helis. Weeding out bandits is easy, mindless work, free of consequence. Plunging head-first into yet another war isn’t.
The trill rings out a third time, right in front of his hiding place. The blade in his hands sings in anticipation of the feast it will partake of, and Nil eagerly follows its call. To honour the knife is to honour Helis, the legacy he carved with his blood, and that of others.
As the bandit’s muffled cry of surprise tears through the silence of the night, Nil’s heart thrums with the harmonies of death.
I still kill with you, Helis. For you.
#i've never written a piece i absolutely abhorred writing before#but was simultaneously a little intrigued#so thanks for this ask#i'm going back to syrup now that i've got this out of the way#come join our discord server!#i swear it's not always cursed crack like this#writing#hzd#hzd fanfic
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Shapetober2020 Winners!
I had these done for a while but never announced them, I’m sorry everyone ^^’’ life’s been hectic lately, but here are the winners for Shapetober2020!
Contact me for your free art piece, what you won will be next to your name.
First Place: @angelabsol - Close to Me : Watercolor fullbody + Watercolor Icon
Second: @eluy-unknown-arts - Literally every single one, I love your Heli tho! : Watercolor Fullbody
Third: @maoshimellow - Crown : Watercolor Bust
Fourth: @wanderingaviator - Corruption + Crown : Watercolor Icon OR Fullbody Lineart
Fifth: @that1randomname - Shovels & Knights : Fullbody Sketch
Watercolor art can be substitute for my other artstyle, just ask!
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Cork History | National Heritage Week 2021
by Richard Forrest
As part of National Heritage Week 2021, we take a look back at some of the more interesting history stories discovered by Cork City Libraries’ Local Studies department.
The Botany of the Bohereens
Cork polymath, Richard Dowden, fell very sick to fever at the time of the Great Famine. During a slow recovery he eventually felt up to walks in the countryside near the city. During these he found he had leisure and energy enough for botanical exploration, one of his many diverse interests. This eventually resulted in the publication in 1852 of his “Walks After Wildflowers”, subtitled “The Botany of the Bohereens”. Richard prefaced his “botanical chit-chat” with the beautiful illustration you see here. But who was responsible for it? Well, it was a mystery lady whose name we at Local Studies would love to discover. Richard simply tells us that he had a kind lady friend “to thank for the pretty and tasteful illustrative vignette which ushers in these pages but I may not give her name, dear reader, without hurting her modest secrecy”.
Diddledum Club
Admit it! You’ve always wanted to know what a Diddledum Club was. A folk music band? An Alice in Wonderland Appreciation Society? Well, neither. Local Studies can now assuage your curiosity. A Diddledum Club was simply a savings club in times when money was scarce. Their heyday was before the foundation of the national Credit Union movement and they were especially popular in the run up to Christmas. Indeed, the Yuletide Diddledum Club was the most common variant. Usually a neighbourly-minded individual got the ball rolling by collecting penny subscriptions and handling the paperwork, before releasing funds back to the payees for a spending bonanza. Unfortunately, embezzling opportunities sometimes proved tempting and in 1938, a fowl plucker for a city centre firm was charged with fraudulently converting sums entrusted to her by her colleagues. The court decided she was more of a “muddler” than anything else and had gotten all mixed up. Although witnesses did say she was down in Crosshaven in August (living the high life?) Anxious to defer prison, His Lordship described the accused as “an old woman, a grandmother and not in the best of health”. In a similar case, a defendant was admonished for leaving her clients vainly calling out, “Alice, where art thou?” for their money. Maybe there is a Wonderland connection after all.
The Victoria Hospital – a Snapshot from 1921
This largely charitable hospital on Infirmary Road was established in 1874. One hundred years ago, it had 50 beds and treated 391 internal patients and 2,005 external. It began 1921 £80 in debit but reduced this to £28 by the close of the year. Here we see a photograph of a salubrious looking Children’s Ward. Note the rocking horse and the large toy cow! The Hospital Council had a fair representation of Sirs, Colonels, Ladies and even a Countess in 1921. The Tabitha Guild supplied most of the wants of the children’s wards, including 70 garments and £8 5s. 6d. for further purchases. The Annual Report 1921 has a nice informal tone. It mentions that £32 was spent on the installation of electric radiators and that the absence of floor covering on an upper floor was a source of considerable noise to those below. That problem was addressed with less expenses than expected. Now, time to have a hunt through our collections at Local Studies to see if we can find a photo of a children’s ward in the North Infirmary in 1921.
A Case of What Might Have Been!
Here is one proposal that was mooted when Cork was searching for a downstream crossing of the River Lee. The City was frantically looking for ways to ease traffic congestion and stimulate economic growth and our picture is from a report by a firm of consulting engineers drafted in 1980. The eventual outcome was, of course, the Jack Lynch Tunnel. Just as well, walks along the Marina wouldn’t have been half so pleasant. The Library’s Local Studies department will bring you more of these alternative futures in the near …. future!
John Fitzgerald’s Diary 1793
John Fitzgerald, teacher and convivialist lived on Drawbridge Street (behind today’s Easons) in the 1790s. He had an insatiable curiosity for events both local and international and has left us with an evocative record of his life and times. Here’s what was occupying John’s thoughts this week all of 238 years ago: July 7th: Drank a share of 12 pots of porter at Cotter’s. Paid John Connell, the barber, 2s. 6d. July 8th: A fine warm day. Commencement of the new moon. Bandon races began. Old potatoes 11 d. per wt. and coal 7s. a barrel. John Hely Hutchinson, our M.P., and Sir William Clarke, our Sheriff, are both now fighting in the entrenchments at Vallenciennes. July 9th: Beautiful weather. Met Dr. Orpen on Wandesford Bridge and he told me to walk as little as I could. July 10th: Fine and warm. 500 recruits from Dungannon arrived at Cork for embarkation. Frigates and transports at Cove to take away the 58th and 63rd Regiments. The journeymen bakers striking. July 11th: Three troops of horse came from Bandon to quell the rioters in Limerick. They stayed but an hour to refresh. July 12th: At break of day there were tremendous claps of thunder and heavy rain. Several flashes of lightning. Mr. Sandiford was buried. July 13th: Gloomy sky, slight rain and close. Patty Chamberlain’s gown was stolen. Took mutton broth for my dinner. Drank three tods at Bat Murphy’s with John Baily and Jack Conway.
The Fingerpost
A fingerpost is a traditional signpost consisting of one or more ‘fingers’. Erected in cast iron or wood, the poles were painted black or white and the fingers had black lettering on a white background. It is thought that the oldest in existence is in England and dates back to 1669. It points to Oxford, Warwick, 'Gloster' and 'Woster'. Recommendations from 1921 advised 21⁄2 or 3 inch high upper case lettering and, from 1933, that poles be of alternating black and white bands. Mileage is typically measured to the nearest quarter mile although fifths and eighths of a mile were used in parts of Scotland. Cork’s fine fingerpost example at Douglas shews the city 2 ¾ miles, Passage 4 ½ and Carrigaline 5 ½. A major review of road signage in Ireland was carried out in 1977.Just how old is our Douglas landmark? Well, for a century or more, the post served as the meeting point for the South Union Hunt. Mind, they would look lost on their horses on today’s modern roundabout! A Grand Jury presentment dating from 1845 tells us that road repairs was under way between “the gate of the Douglas Lunatic Asylum and the finger post”. Further back again, the old ballad has it that one of the brave 1798 men, Phil Carty, was tracked when slipping home “to old Donnybrook” and “his bosom bled from the cruel lead, of a well-aimed musket ball”. After that, his body was hung from “the Finger Post, where walks his ghost, that they made his gallows tree”. Though still standing proud and prominent, perhaps the post has already, in fact, gone the way of Phil’s ghost. The current occupant of the historic spot is a metal recreation from 2004!
Follow us on Facebook and Twitter for further Cork related treats from the nooks and crannies of the Local Studies department.
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Author Spotlight: Donna Tartt
Donna Tartt is an American writer, who grew up in Greenwood, Mississippi. Her work has been translated into over thirty languages, and she won the 2014 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction for her novel The Goldfinch. She’s known for being incredibly well-read, and her work surely shows this off. Her attention to detail in her setting, plot, and characters is so thorough that each book exists as its own little world, one that’s often impossible to draw away from. Her intense exploration of art, individuality, classics, religion, friendship, love and morality makes her one of our favourite authors, and someone we would love for Harry to discover, too.
The Secret History (1992)
New England scenery, a backwards mystery, and an eclectic mix of young individuals all jumbled together into one tiny Greek Classics classroom. The Secret History is autumn personified, carrying a darkness and grittiness that’s as enthralling, unique, and slightly insane as it’s characters. The book pushes the limits of morality, of human thinking, of relationships, and of the concept of beauty. It grips you from the very first line and has you on edge until it’s last.
Favourite quotes:
“It's a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves?”
“Some things are too terrible to grasp at once. Other things - naked, sputtering, indelible in their horror - are too terrible to really grasp ever at all. It is only later, in solitude, in memory that the realization dawns: when the ashes are cold; when the mourners have departed; when one looks around and finds oneself - quite to one's surprise - in an entirely different world.”
“We think we have many desires, but in fact we have only one. What is it?” “To live,” said Camilla. “To live forever,”
“I liked the idea of living in a city — any city, especially a strange one — liked the thought of traffic and crowds, of working in a bookstore, waiting tables in a coffee shop, who knew what kind of solitary life I might slip into? Meals alone, walking the dogs in the evenings; and nobody knowing who I was.”
The Little Friend (2002)
The setting is Alexandria, Mississippi, where one Mother’s Day a little boy named Robin Cleve Dufresnes was found hanging from a tree in his parents’ yard. Twelve years later Robin’s murder is still unsolved and his family remains devastated. So it is that Robin’s sister Harriet - unnervingly bright, insufferably determined, and unduly influenced by the fiction of Kipling and Robert Louis Stevenson--sets out to unmask his killer. Aided only by her worshipful friend Hely, Harriet crosses her town’s rigid lines of race and caste and burrows deep into her family’s history of loss.
Favourite quotes:
“Running might take her forward, it could even take her home; but it couldn't take her back–not ten minutes, ten hours, not ten years or days. And that was tough, as Hely would say. Tough: since back was the way she wanted to go, since the past was the only place she wanted to be.”
“Even if it meant that she had failed, she was glad. And if what she'd wanted had been impossible from the start, still there was a certain lonely comfort in the fact that she'd known it was impossible and had gone ahead and done it anyway.”
“Restlessly, she stared at this. Like the woodcutter’s child at the beginning of a fairy tale, a mysterious longing had possessed her, a desire to travel far and do great things; and though she could not say exactly what it was she wanted to do, she knew that it was something grand and gloomy and extremely difficult.”
“All her grace was in her vagueness. Her voice was soft, her manner languid, her features blurred and dreamy.”
The Goldfinch (2013)
This is a sprawling tale of grief, devotion, memory; an ode to art and the lasting impressions objects leave on us when connected to the most significant moments of our lives. The Goldfinch spans years, and we’re taken on a turbulent journey through the eyes of the main character, Theo, as he attempts to navigate through his life and various relationships after his mother’s death in a gallery bombing, his displacement from his home out to Las Vegas and his eventual return to New York, all the while holding onto and obsessing over a piece of stolen art.
Favourite quotes:
“We looked at each other and just laughed; everything was hysterically funny, even the playground slide was smiling at us, and at some point, deep in the night, when we were swinging on the jungle gymand showers of sparks were flying out of our mouths, I had the epiphany that laughter was light, and light was laughter, and that this was the secret of the universe. For hours, we watched the clouds rearranging themselves into intelligent patterns; rolled in the dirt, believing it was seaweed; lay on our backs and sang "Dear Prudence" to the welcoming and appreciative stars. It was a fantastic night: one of the great nights of my life.”
“As long as I am acting out of love, I feel I am doing best I know how.”
“Isn’t the whole point of things—beautiful things—that they connect you to some larger beauty? Those first images that crack your heart wide open and you spend the rest of your life chasing, or trying to recapture, in one way or another?”
“We looked at each other. And it occurred to me that despite his faults, which were numerous and spectacular, the reason I’d liked Boris and felt happy around him from almost the moment I’d met him was that he was never afraid. You didn’t meet many people who moved freely through the world with such a vigorous contempt for it and at the same time such oddball and unthwartable faith in what, in childhood, he had liked to call “the Planet of Earth.”
Our top pick:
We’d love for Harry to read any of the books above, but if we could give him one, our pick is The Secret History. Nothing comes close to beating the dark academia genre, the gritty feelings, the lyrical wording of Donna’s prose, and the rag-tag group of impeccably and not so impeccably dressed students that inhabit the elite Vermont university. We think Harry would be drawn to Donna’s style, the story, the setting, and the deep character studies in The Secret History. We’d also love for him to play Henry in the movie adaptation that we hope never happens – let’s face it, the book is just too good to translate to the screen. They’ve already tried that once!
Discussion time!
What do you think of Donna Tartt and her writing? Have you read any of her books? If so, what are some of the stand out moments/quotes from the books that you loved? What would you like to see on the bookshelf next? We’d love to hear all of your thoughts!
#author spotlight#donna tartt#the secret history#the little friend#the goldfinch#this is the first of our author spotlights!!#let us know if there are any other authors you'd like us to talk about
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hey! sorry if this is a weird question but how did you learn english? (assuming finnish is your 1st) english is a dumpster fire language (pour, door, more, flour) that makes no sense so I was just curious lol
Hello!! So it all began when I was seven and on my way to my first English class. The first thing that happened was the teacher gave us all weird names for the class. Every Pertti, Teppo, Heli, Unelma and Pyry got themselves an English name and we all had to learn how to pronounce them. I don't remember my name but let's assume it was something cute like "Chloe" (which would have been near impossible for the little Finnish Julle to pronounce. Khhhh-looou-e.) Nowadays, 17 years later, I usually do my English courses independently from home and learn nothing new.
So yeah, I went to a Finnish school, that alone should explain some of it. We have a really good education system and not to brag, but our schools are the best ok? Japan and Singapore are cool but have you seen us?
We're taught English for nine years and even after that, whatever school you go to next, they will teach you relevant vocabulary. Our TV doesn't shy away from showing English speaking media, in fact most of our TV is in English with just a couple of Finnish programs here and there. We love our subtitles and they're a good way to keep learning the language while you're enjoying the 36th rerun of Friends.
But not all finns speak English this well! Most have a pretty brutal accent, their grammar is off or they remember like 50% of the words they've been taught, but in general if you ever need help during your trip in Finland, any random passerby will know English enough to help you out.
So how I got above average was by using the language a lot more than an average finn does. I consumed a lot of English speaking media as a teenager, mostly music and series, and I liked the language enough to start using it in my art. I might have written some songs in English or some short stories, which made me look up new words and to write out full sentences. At some point I preferred English over Finnish in my art and honestly quite often I think in English.
But I did have that gross Finnish accent for a long time. At some point I decided that I don't want it anymore, so I started talking in English more. Most of my accent disappeared simply by singing in English, but you don't really use words like jurisdiction, controversy and pneumonia in songs that often, so I legit started to talk to myself in English. When I was watching something, I listened to difficult words and tried to pronounce them after the actors until I got it right.
That's honestly it. I had a good basic education in English and the rest is from constant exposure and usage ✌
(And hey, try learning to conjugate just one Finnish noun. English is nOtHiNg.)
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Cherik fanfic tag game
Thank you @akasanata for the tag!
1. What is your favourite Cherik canon/ canon fix-it fic? Sub Rosa by tahariel, beautiful post-XMFC fic with gorgeous art. Technically a WIP but works brilliantly as a one-shot. It’s a Charles-centric mansion fic where Erik is compelled to return to the mansion every November. Just a very lovely fic all around, bittersweet and angry, but with the promise of hope and recovery. Charles’ voice and characterisation are absolutely impeccable!
2. What is your favourite AU Cherik fic? THIS QUESTION IS UNFAIR BECAUSE THERE ARE JUST SO MANY
...That said there’s always going to be a special place in my heart for Boden’s Mate and its sequel, the Inception AU by kaydeefalls, just because it’s one of the first fics I’ve read in this fandom and it’s so excellent on a technical level. Tightly-plotted, amazing twists and tension, really fantastic use of the dream-sharing, mind-manipulating aspects of Inception to create some gorgeous settings. There’s lots of layered and nuanced symbolism (especially in the sequel), and recurring motifs that pack an emotional punch.
3. What is your favourite slow burn, super long Cherik fic? For that particular flavour of ‘They raw each other in the first part of chapter 1, then spend 100k in denial, misunderstanding, and self-doubt‘: Anarchy in the UK by Yahtzee, definitely! It’s so far outside the usual genre of fic I read but it just works. Fantastic chemistry, one of the fics that sell me on the whole “sparks fly at first sight” thing. Loved how all the plot threads were character driven and develop so organically!
On the other side of the coin, my favourite 100k of pining would definitely go to The Marriage Bargain by @kianspo! Such wonderfully self-indulgent harlequin arranged marriage fic with the BEST young Charles, who is charming and cheeky and brilliant and warm-hearted and vulnerable all at once! Definitely one of those fics I go back to again and again
4. What’s your favourite short and sweet Cherik fic? This fandom has given me a skewed understanding of “short”, I swear! Everyone is so prolific! But here’s a few that I always go out of my way to read whenever I see them pop up :D
But The Cat Came Back by twelve_pastels: catfic! what more do you need? Heli Cases by Black_Betty: cute dad Erik! Also check out To Do List by the same author. Two words: coitus calendar Other Crabs Cannot Be Trusted by groovyphilia: one of the first fics i remember reading after the release of xmfc and I still remember it all these years later, that’s how delightfully amazing it is in its crackyness! The Holiday Lights Battle by so_shhy: mitosis!!!
5. Which Cherik fic gives you all the angst and the feels? what cherik fic DOESN’T give me the angst and the feels? But Us by Pangea stands out as one of those “i’ve read this once and it’s brilliant and i never want to re-read it again ever” sort of fics. Give it a try if you like Dark!Charles!
and also Residue by Tawabids, oh my god
6. What’s your favourite PWP/smutty Cherik fic? i’m too embarrassed to name specifics but anything by Red or by Gerec
Special mention to At Any Time by musical_emjay, and for something that’s heavy on the smut and sexual exploration but also on character development, check out you follow and i’ll lead by pearl_o and pocky_slash!
7. What’s your best recent find in the Cherik fanfic world? The Cherik isn’t the main focus of the piece but please check out this devastating little XMDP ficlet from @fatcatsarecats... Warning for serious spoilers if you haven’t seen XMDP yet!
Otherwise I’ve really been enjoying the ficbits from @freewithyourtempo I’ve seen popping up in the Cherik tag lately! They have some really cool ideas and really good range from angst to wow damn this is hot
8. If you could only recommend one Cherik fic, what would it be? Boden’s Mate from above would probably always be my ultimate rec (and most of the fics here are on my personal ‘top 10 fics’ list), but in the interests of mixing things up:
Limited Release by rageprufrock, one of my favourite ensemble cast fics with the sort of established relationship, bickering but fond and loving Cherik that I adore! If you like FBI-style fics definitely give this a try; most of the team works under Erik, who is a senior agent, and Charles is his usual Professor/activist self that gets too involved for his own good. I absolutely love it - every single character gets a chance to shine, it’s action-packed, there are some really fucking funny scenes, and some really gentle and intimate moments between Charles and Erik. This fic pretty much has everything you can ask for! \o/
Tagging @fatcatsarecats @jackyjango @amaranth42 @isamai @nesnalou @ice-cream-connie and everyone else at the Cherik discord server (sorry i can’t remember all your handles hdifsdf) and anyone who wants to do this!
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What's up folks 24/F/European
I am Heli. And I look forward to getting to know you.
My interests are very varied. I have studied art, love beautiful things, movies, music, people and their lives (yours!). Would love to eventually publish a book.
Prefer anonymity and love mystery.
I am introverted, openminded, very LGBT+ friendly and to be honest, almost nothing is really too out of range for me.
Would love to hear your thoughts, opinions, world views, life experiences, ups, downs, ramblings.
I'm looking for educated human beings. Who have the same need for meaningful conversations, and venting to understanding and openminded people without the repercussions of social anxiety, judgment and prejudice. (phew). This is what you can expect from me.
Message me your greatest desire (or other shenanigans) to: heliconiuslongwing @ gmail .com For the interested: infp - virgo - cis - little snarky but kind
#penpal#postcards#electronic mail#online friends#internet friends#18-20#20-25#25-30#penpalkingdom#submission
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What's up folks
24/F/Europe/gay. I’m Heli, and I would love to get to know you.
I’m interested in your life experiences, your secrets, opinions, ups, downs, interests, world views, hobbies, and prefer a little anonymity (because I’m pretty introverted).
I love art, music, movies, games, design, and people. I would love to eventually write a book.
For the interested, I’m INFP, Virgo, creative and openminded. Also a pretty fluffy useless lesbian.
Message me your greatest desire in life (or other shenanigans) to: heliconiuslongwing @ gmail .com
December 18, 2019
#PenPals#USA#Europa#Lesbian#Gay#Trans#Bisexual#Emailbuddies#16-20 years#20-30 years#30-40 years#female#music#movies#books#submission
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Hey there! I love your fanwalker Helis’s design! I was wondering though, is he meant to be a little chubby? I hope that doesn’t come off the wrong way, it’s just hard to tell with people’s different art styles. Anyway, thanks for putting together Fanwalker February!
Hello, thank you! :D Yes he is! I’m still new to drawing humans and trying to do some practicing, but it was my intention :3
And you’re welcome, I hope you (and others) are having fun with it! :D
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Personality By Andrew O'hagan - Book Review
The life of your novel depends on it, turn it into reality now! One judge is liberal and the other is conservative. Even silly, but sweet update, "Clueless," could a be.
So you experienced this idea floating around in your head for years, you want to write it. It's a story, fiction, additionally think it end up being the a novel. You can view gotten to the where it is almost bothering you. You need to write them. So you turn relating to the computer, make a cup of coffee, open a new Word doc, and the wind blows right out of your sails. You can barely get a sentence out.
So specifically is a guide review? Well, quite obviously it is a review connected with book, in this instance, a fictional book probably novel. So that we next be compelled to look at defining specifically 'review' will. The University of North carolina has a wonderful definition i always can utilization. It defines a review as, 'a critical evaluation of a text, event, object, or phenomenon. Reviews can consider books, articles, entire genres or fields of literature, architecture, art, fashion, restaurants, policies, exhibitions, performances, and many other kinds.' So, now we exactly what a review is, and also the fact that it needs in order to become aimed for the fictional amount of literature, here are what information you include things like in shape ? of a fictional book.
That means you don't just get to your final fullstop, then rush your manuscript off for assessment. It implies that you take care evaluation your novel, repeatedly, without help. Check for prose style, for characterisation, for plot weaknesses, for pacing. You should go on doing more of these until either (a) obtained the novel as strong as you may get it, or (b) are familiar with it's still not right but you find yourself going round in rings. Either way, that's the moment it truly is worth getting help.
The movie is controversial on two points, and so i shall address each. Initially, there is a disagreement as to whether an us actress (Anne Hathaway) should portray England's beloved Martha. Hathaway's portrayal of Austen is entirely heartfelt, bringing the author's warm, witty personality https://thelightnovel.com/ someone's. Her accent was well done, a few misses to sure, but overall quite believable. A good American, I contend I'll be less particular concerning this issue.
Sanditon by Jane Austen and "Another Lady," is another interesting a start. The first 11 chapters of the novel actually were authored by Austen shortly before her death. Document was added on with other lady. The first section is, with doubt, essentially the most effective part, nevertheless the rest can be a fun go through. The "other lady" does an admirable job of completing what promised to be another great Austen different.
Best Light Novel
Write several paragraphs about each character in the novel. Much more about the main characters. Exactly they are like? Where do they live, work, and take? Where were they born, what did their parents do? What where they in college (geek, jock, druggy and many more.) Review of love life, college, work, dark secrets, and vices (we all have vices and secrets fantasies, know them each and every character). Have an idea how long you want the novel to be; this may change or even be adjusted, but start by helping cover their an estimate, i.e., quantity of chapters, average pages per chapter.
Real author Steve Hely has written a fun book. Plain and simple, How I came to be a Famous Novelist is packed with absurd situations and almost believable plotlines. Hely leans on a dark urge that resides in the world. We all love a little revenge every now and then and better creative the higher.
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