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#copper duo
ya-boi-haru · 2 days
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Oh I forgot to say this little detail about my recent Icarus cosplay...
The necklaces I wore:
2 potion bottle necklaces, wing with rainbow feathers, a crystal, a simple chain, and my personal favourite:
A gear onto a simple chain. The gear is from Seven.
They found it amongst the Lillies next to him and kept it as reminder of him.
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katiky-png · 2 months
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just some regular copper duo brainrot that @logan368 has cast upon me
thanks logan
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1-800-crystalball · 1 year
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Here you go, tumblr…
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morickkk · 8 months
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I minified the copper flower real
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R!owen is so me
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floweroflaurelin · 1 year
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Back in early November I had the pleasure of making these two illustrations for Scott Smajor! We’ve got Owen teaching Scott to tinker in his workshop and then a fun lil outdoor portrait of some of the gang 😄🐭✨
These were so much fun to make—playing with scale and filling up the background of the workshop with items swiped from the manor was a great time! Plus I’ve never really painted animal characters before! I went for a storybook kinda vibe and I learned a bunch, I’d love to paint more stuff like this someday 🥰
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gemandthescotts · 9 months
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As easy as a push of a button
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...push of a button
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push of button
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Push button?
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push button
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push...button
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Push button
Push button
Push button
PUSH BUTTON
PUSH BUTTON
PUSH BUTTON
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dawnfire7 · 4 months
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the one-two punch of pirate!owen leaving scott and the faction isles, and sparrow killing light!scott
just. in pirates, it's that this is how owen's always been. their close friendship wasn't enough to change him.
and in new life, sparrow's not acting like himself. he's changed.
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exiledsundew · 6 months
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Forgot to post this yesterday
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... to the people who are sick of seeing flower husbands stuff... you need to get over it and over yourselves.
Yes, people should calm the fuck down in Scott and Jimmy's streams, but that's it. That's all. If people wanna write/draw/whatever for it, they're allowed because neither Jimmy nor Scott minds.
Why am I bringing this up? Because some people are far too sensitive about people liking the ship. Like... it has nothing to do with you and you should take a step out of fan spaces if you can't be at least cordial about a fandom favorite ship. Especially since both men are more than fine with it.
Also, people have been making bets about who 'him' is from witchcraft SMP.
Two things. If it's Jimmy or people want it to be Jimmy/think it will be him. Shut up and get over it. If someone tries to bring it up to you, say you don't want to talk about it for whatever reason you have, but get over that others want it.
Second, if the 'him' is in any way a romantic partner, it will not be Owen. Owen and Scott have made their stance on anything romantic happening even in RP moments clear. It will not happen. They won't do it because they're not comfortable with it. Quit trying to push that something like that will happen because you are far worse than anyone who is shipping flower husbands off to the side.
Now, I want you all to think about how pathetic it is that you're getting up in arms about this kind of thing. Because that's what it is. Pathetic.
Yes, calm the fuck down in their chats about it, but other than that they don't care. Get over it and get over yourselves.
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obarona · 9 months
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RATS RATS RATS
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mostlyinconvenient · 1 year
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hey I haven't seen anyone else put this clip up. Please continue to be creative and supportive of this awesome project while keeping this in mind!
I think the link broke, so I edited it to just have the clip. We love tumblr
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katiky-png · 5 months
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why am i screaming and crying and wailing?
its because owen and scott are together in orange ocelots
if scott and owen are together in orange i have a right to scream and cry and wail i mean ITS COPPER HUSBANDS its FRUIT SALAD DUO theyre just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
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omgitsbeewave · 6 months
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gays in sweaters 2 / 5
i feel like i forgot how to draw curls and nothing helped
there's actually a lot of photos with them hugging each other, cute
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m0ther-of-p3arl · 1 year
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bury me six feet in snow
(robert aeor high au p1)
masterpost
-heyo! if you do not know, this is the first installment of an au i have decided to write. i speedran this today during school and it's finally finished, so here ya go *throws writing and runs away*
Half-gorgon, half-siren, the worst of both worlds. Instead of petrification, his eyes spew ice, freezing anything in his path. Instead of the bright green snakes and irises and scales he should have, in any of these spots that should be the toxic green exclusive to a gorgon, Scott is a light-hued cyan color. He’s an eyesore. His father’s told him this many times, how the only thing he’s good for is wasting his parents’ money and being a disappointment- how at least he could have had the decency to be born with the right colors, at least, maybe then Scott wouldn’t be such a terrible child.
or, Scott lives with abusive parents, and his best friend, owen, is a constant through it all. (yes jimmy'll be thrown in here soon dont worry i have it all planned out >:)
TW: verbal abuse, homophobia, internalized homophobia, depression, anxiety
(3444 words)
He hates peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. His breakfast sits there, unbitten and untouched, the jelly just a little bit too blue and the peanut butter just a little bit too gray. His navy blue uniform chafes against his skin, and he wishes now more than ever his parents hadn’t sent him to private school- but of course, they know best, so he won’t question it, even if the uniform hurts, especially when he pulls his shirt on over his head, his snakes hissing at the contact with the coarse fabric. His chair is just a little too stiff, and his feet don’t quite touch the ground- everything is just slightly wrong, just so slightly off that he knows he’s out of control-
Scott risks a glance up from his meager breakfast to see his father, seated far across the long table that takes up the middle of this windowless room, staring stonily down at him. His gaze is full of judgment and Scott would’ve flinched, if this wasn’t something he was used to by now. If he didn’t know how much a show of weakness could cause him, another lecture on how he needed to act, how he needed to be, so the world would know who he really is. Scott quickly looks back down, his heart rabbiting intensely in his chest from his father’s intense gaze.
Scott’s waiting, waiting for his father to say something, he knows it’s coming, and he steels himself for it, but his father just…stares. This is… a little strange. Is Scott’s father trying to petrify him? That wouldn’t make any sense, though. Father is smart enough to know that his petrification doesn’t work on fellow gorgons, and even if Scott isn’t really a gorgon, that’s like, the first thing you learn when you’re given your shades. Scott gingerly lifts his sandwich from his plate and takes a tentative bite, not daring to look up, hoping that it’ll taste at least a little different, hoping there’ll be something at least a little new-
Blech. Same as always. The grape jelly squishes between his teeth and the peanut butter sticks to the roof of his mouth as he chews and swallows, the familiar taste almost vomit-inducing at this point, the texture mealy and uncomfortable in his mouth. Scott’s been having the same breakfast since he was eight, and he’s always wondered why, given how much money his dad makes, he can’t just have something a little more…appetizing? 
Maybe something new, Scott really likes Indian food, and he’s not particularly inclined towards PB&Js. At least for lunch, he can sneak some food from Owen, who’ll make a fuss about it but in the end will always oblige Scott’s requests, because Owen knows that Scott’s particular about his food, and he doesn’t get much else- Scott wishes Owen was here now, to knock on his door and save him from his father’s withering gaze.
Scott’s father clears his throat, pulling Scott out of his thoughts, and he immediately looks up, mouth still full as he swallows quickly, snapping to attention.
“Scott.” 
Scott’s name on his father’s lips is dripping with disdain, the way it always is, loaded with disgust and disappointment, cold as the ice that carpets the ground wherever Scott looks. It burrows into Scott’s blood and even though he’s heard it oh so many times before, it still cuts a little each time, and Scott wants to do something about it, but instead he waits for his father to continue. Maybe if he doesn’t interrupt, Father won’t hate him, maybe he’ll be worth at least something, maybe Scott’s not a complete disappointment and “a wretched curse upon his family,” as he’s heard so many times before.
“It’s time for school.” It absolutely is not time for school, school doesn’t start for another hour, at least, and Scott opens his mouth to say so-
But he opens his eyes instead, to find he is still laying in his four-poster bed, the sun shining in through the window as his father looms over him. “W-what?” Scott’s still confused, his brain hasn’t quite wrapped itself around the fact that he’s just awoken, part of him wondering why he isn’t still sitting opposite of Father at the unfamiliar oaken table that takes up a whole empty, hostile room.
“I said, wake up. You can hear me, can’t you? Or are you deaf as well as defective?” Father’s voice is laced with venom and Scott wants nothing more than to burrow beneath his blankets again, because even the father in his dreams is less horrible than the one he has in real life. No, not horrible, he’s not horrible. He loves Scott. Father just wants what’s best for him, just wants to make sure he grows up to be a real man.
Scott can never tell his father that he’s- his insides reel with disgust even thinking about his secret, the slimy truth of his existence.
He doesn’t need to be thinking about that this early in the morning.
Scott sits up, eyes still blurry with sleep, his cyan snakes hissing in front of his face as he pulls them back behind his head, the icy feel of their scales causing a shiver to run through his veins. He sits up straight, trying to be presentable, because that’s important, he needs to be respectful to his father, but everything’s tinted ice-blue- Scott’s eyes widen in a sudden realization. He’s not wearing his shades and he needs to put them on now, quickly, or he’ll cause so much damage, if he hasn’t already- his hands scrabble over the bedstand until he finds them and he breathes a sigh of relief, pulling the dark glasses over his head.
Oh, no. He hadn’t been quick enough, he realizes, as he surveys his room, streaks of ice embedded from the wall, spiking out at odd angles, as dark and horrific as the way his father glares down at him, because Scott’s just done the worst thing possible, he’s reminded his father that he’s broken-
“I-I’m sorry,” Scott mutters, looking down at his feet, “I thought I was g-getting it under control.”
“Clearly not.” Father sneers, his own glasses blocking out his bright green eyes, eyes that petrify, the eyes that any real gorgon should have.
Eyes that Scott doesn’t possess. 
“Now get dressed and prepare yourself for school. Your mother and I did not pay this much money for you to be late. And let yourself out. I can’t stand the sight of you again this morning. Worthless boy.” Scott’s father turns, green cloak sweeping behind him as he steps regally down their looping spiral staircase.
Scott sighs. He had hoped that for once he might have a normal morning, one where he didn’t disappoint his father and one where maybe, maybe, the curse of being a hybrid would go away, the curse that isn’t even the worst part of who Scott is. He wishes his mother was here.
Not that she’d be any kinder to Scott about his situation, of course. But she was, at least, less aggressive. Her form of punishment for Scott was more often than not a session of intense siren hypnotization, trying to fix him, to get him to be one or the other. 
Scott’s mother has a gorgeous voice, so he doesn’t mind her luring him into that sleepy state where she can possibly figure out if there’s some way to eliminate one side or the other. Because Scott’s mother is not a gorgon. She’s a siren, and Scott doesn’t really understand how she and his father got together, as they’re both extremely conservative about inter-species breeding- and most things in general. And yet somehow, they’d gotten together and had… him.
Half-gorgon, half-siren, the worst of both worlds. Instead of petrification, his eyes spew ice, freezing anything in his path. Instead of the bright green snakes and irises and scales he should have, in any of these spots that should be the toxic green exclusive to a gorgon, Scott is a light-hued cyan color. He’s an eyesore. His father’s told him this many times, how the only thing he’s good for is wasting his parents’ money and being a disappointment- how at least he could have had the decency to be born with the right colors, at least, maybe then Scott wouldn’t be such a terrible child. 
Scott hates himself.
As he pulls on his navy uniform (that bit, unfortunately, was not a dream), his snakes hiss against the rough fabric and he growls under his breath, because why on earth would anyone make clothes of any kind in this burlap-like material, much less school uniforms? And the pants- Scott wishes he could wear something a bit more flowy on his legs, something that would let him breathe. He should start a rebellion, he thinks wryly, before his anxious brain speeds up and works out what the actual consequences would be if Scott did attempt something of the kind.
If news got back to his parents, he might have to go a week alone in this gigantic, cold house. He doesn’t want to do that again. Even horrible company is still company, Scott hates being alone- and the worst part is, his father knows it. Now (un)comfortably slid into his uniform, Scott steps quietly out of his room, closing the ice-covered door behind him, sighing and running a hand through his snakes, which hiss softly at his touch.
At the bottom of the twisting marble staircase, a familiar peanut butter and jelly sandwich is resting on the newel post. That had also not been exclusively a dream-world thing, and Scott hates the world for it. Why must he have this, day after day, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner? But he takes it anyway, because any food is better than no food, and begins to cross the expansive marble floor, making his way to the ornate double doors.
The entrance is emblazoned with two giant “M”s for Major, the family name. Scott doesn’t like to use that name. It reminds him of his father, and anywhere except home should be a reprieve from the constant scrutiny and judgment. So instead, he decided to use Smajor as his last name, combining his first initial with his legal last name. It feels silly and lighthearted, turning something he hates into something that makes him snicker whenever someone mentions it. He’s gotten to the point where he and his friends have gaslighted half the school into thinking that Smajor is his legal last name, and Scott loves it. 
Scott Smajor. It just has a nice ring to it. 
Scott shoves open the massive doors and begins to walk through the impeccably manicured front lawn, the small cobbled path he treads upon surrounded on all sides by professionally trimmed hedges, perfectly cone-shaped birch trees, lavender bushes and poppies that ring the numerous ponds. The expanses of water are completely artificial except for the precisely placed lotuses floating serenely on the dark water, and even despite that concerning detail, anyone would think this was paradise. But Scott knew better. 
This garden is beautiful, sure, in the same way a postcard is beautiful. There’s always something… off about it. Maybe it’s the way the breeze doesn’t ruffle the leaves, the way that the ponds are always as still as ice. It just feels fake. Scott’s whole house feels fake, acres of space around it, a mansion in its own right. Made of stock-white marble, with sweeping buttresses and arching colonnades, it’s a work of architectural genius.
But just like the garden, it’s just about as genuine as the celebrities that pump themselves full of plastic and alter themselves so they resemble celestials, who are widely considered to be the most beautiful of the sentient species (though Scott personally thinks avians are the cutest, with their short stature and bird-like mannerisms). 
Scott quickens his pace, pushing open the wrought iron gate and stepping out onto a normal neighborhood street, typical houses lining the streets. Scott notices rain beginning to drip down from the sky. He sighs in relief, the cool water offering a reprieve from his destructive thoughts. His family are the only wealthy people on his block, and their estate covers most of the left side of the street- but if he ignores it, he can almost pretend he’s a normal gorgon with normal gorgon abilities, who’s just walking down the street to fetch his best friend. And that is what Scott’s doing, so at least he can have half of his fantasy.
He’s reached the small brick house at the end of the road, a simple, overgrown lawn and a cluttered pathway that offer a striking contrast to the perfectly manicured front garden of Scott’s house. He carefully walks up the dirt path, jumping left and right to avoid tripping on the toys strewn all over the walkway, presumably left there by Owen’s little sisters. And Owen has a lot of little sisters. But that’s to be expected with tieflings- the biological females are always born in pods of four or more, while the males are born only ever one at a time.
Scott makes it to the end of the path and gingerly climbs the rickety stairs up to Owen’s sagging front porch, rapping three times against the door with the old iron door knocker. Almost immediately, the dark mint green door swings open under Scott’s touch, paint flaking off and drifting into the air. Scott instinctively brushes the dried varnish off his clothes, the unpleasant sensation of the fabric against his skin tingling in his fingertips, as he looks up, straight into the bright smirk of his best friend.
“Scott!” Owen flashes Scott his trademark grin in greeting, his curly brown hair flopping down in front of his orange-tinted face between his two similar-colored horns. Suddenly, a screech erupts from inside the modest house, and Scott just near jumps out of his skin. Owen glares back into the house. “Pipe down, will you?” He rolls his eyes and slams the door shut. Scott can’t imagine having one sibling, much less the nine rambunctious little sisters that Owen has to live with daily. In this one aspect, at least, Scott doesn’t envy his best friend.
Owen sighs. “Sorry about that, how’s life at the mansion?” Their feet fall into synchronization as they begin the walk to school, the rain dribbling down even more now, splattering the sidewalk with dark stains. 
“It’s…fine,” Scott lies, turning his head to the side so he doesn’t have to meet his best friend’s eyes. Owen knows full well how much Scott hates it there, how much he wishes he could go somewhere else, anywhere else. He’s told Owen about his father and his mother and just…all that… multiple times, but Owen has never been the best at feelings, and though he’ll offer Scott a brisk hug on occasion, Scott’s learned it’s better just to not bring it up. He’s pretty sure Owen doesn’t want or need to hear about Scott’s trauma, if it can even be classified as trauma.
It can’t, really, nothing horrific has ever happened to him, just…his father. And though it hurts, Scott knows that it’s not half of what some people have to live through. But he’s still learned it’s better not to bring up his experiences with people, especially Owen. He doesn’t want to sour their friendship, doesn’t want to ruin anything he hasn’t already broken with his clumsy hands.
Owen surprises him this morning, though, grabbing Scott by his shoulders and turning him around to face him. “No, it’s not.” It’s not a question, and Owen’s face is serious, not his typical silly smirk. 
Scott tries weakly to smile, but he’s pretty sure it looks more like a grimace. “No, it’s not,” he mutters, repeating Owen’s statement as he stares up at the rain-heavy clouds.
“Is your dad being a dick again? From what I’ve seen, he’s a real unsavory man.” Owen’s not looking at Scott, which he appreciates. Scott doesn’t like eye contact very much, it always reminds him of how his father will stare at him, judging and prying and looking for any little imperfection he can pick at until Scott cracks and admits that yes, he is a disappointment. Sooner or later, Scott always has to admit that he’s nothing more. He knows that Father’s always right about that kind of thing.
“I don’t know if I would use that language, Owen- I’m sure he only wants what’s best for me.” Owen scoffs at his words. “What?!” Scott snaps, “He’s not a bad person, we just have differences sometimes.” Scott knows it’s not true, knows the words he speaks are false, but he can’t admit anything else to himself and he can’t let anyone else know how hard he’s got it, because in reality, he hasn’t got it that hard at all.
Owen throws Scott a skeptical glance, but he stays quiet about it the rest of the walk to Robert Aeor, the high school they both attend, and the conversations shifts to lighter topics, giving Scott a much-needed reprieve from thinking about himself, about how despicable he is, how he doesn’t deserve a friend like Owen-
He shakes the thoughts from his head, the rain beating down hard now, Scott’s uniform almost completely soaked through. “You couldn’t have thought to bring an umbrella,” he asks Owen sarcastically, a smirk lighting up the corners of his mouth.
Owen sighs dramatically. “No, Scott, I did not bring an umbrella. But neither did you!” He raises an eyebrow, poking Scott lightly in the chest. “Maybe you should think on that, eh, Mr Rich Guy? You’re the one with all the money.”
“I’m also the one who still eats a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day, Owen, as you may recall,” Scott jests, elbowing his best friend in the ribs. 
“Yeah, and what about that? You’ve been mooching lunch off me for the better part of five years, Scott Smajor, and when do I get paid back for all those pizza slices and bagel halves, huh?” Scott snickers slightly, and Owen’s face lights up. “Hah! I did it! I made you laugh!” Scott immediately quashes his grin. “What on earth are you talking about, young man?” Owen raises both eyebrows this time, a look that means he means business. “First,” he begins, counting off on his fingers, “I’m older than you-”
“By, like, a month,” Scott scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“A month and sixteen days,” Owen corrects, pointer finger raised authoritatively in the air. “And two, you’re always Mr Grumpapotamus- you almost never laugh!” He spreads his arms high in a wide, sweeping circle, as if to illustrate his point about just how much Scott never laughs.
“I do too laugh,” Scott grumbles, though he’s not really angry, he can’t remember the last time he was truly angry at Owen. “I laugh all the time.” “No, you absolutely do not!” Owen remarks incredulously.
“Do too,” Scott sulks, pushing his snakes out of his eyes. “You’re just not there to see it.”
“Scott, we’re literally together 24/7. That’s all the time, Scott. All the time!”
The conversation continues in this vein for quite some time, and before Scott knows it, they’ve reached Robert Aeor, the sizable brick building looming over his and Owen’s heads. Scott stares at the building, where he’s gone to school for the past three years. Soon he’ll be out of here, soon he’ll be eighteen, and then, as soon as he gets his college degree, he can get out of here.
Maybe he can even get a boyfriend- Scott’s eyes widen, realizing his mistake. No, that’s horrible, disgusting, what would Father think? He’s supposed to be fighting his imperfections, not leaning more into them, Owen’s the only one who knows Scott’s secret and that’s only because he guessed, he wheedled it out of Scott like only a best friend can do.
He can see Owen glancing over at him now, concerned, in his peripheral vision, but he doesn’t turn. He doesn’t deserve Owen’s worry and he doesn’t want it, he doesn’t need it. 
“Well, I guess we’d better-” Scott stops short in his sentence, because Owen’s hugging him, warm orange-tinged arms wrapping around Scott’s shoulders, and he thinks he might cry, he hasn’t been hugged in so long-
And then it’s over, and Owen’s whispering in his ear, “Stay safe, okay?” The thing is, Scott doesn’t know if he can. And that’s the part that hurts. 
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1-800-crystalball · 1 year
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As soon as I got to the bit in the beginning of Scott’s ws video where he says he wants to bring him back, my mind immediately jumped to empires s2 scott.
Like, colourful Scott, super happy and stuff, avoids magic because of his eye. Falls in love with someone (probably Owen or Jimmy). The empires get destroyed in another accident, and the person he loves dies and he stays alive.
He wears dark colours because he blames himself and sees himself as a harbinger of death and tries magic to bring him back.
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