more than you can afford

“why do you use crayola colored pencils and copy paper”

“why do you use ms paint and”

“why do you draw with a mouse and not a tablet”

“why don’t you use a good digital camera and not your laptop/camera phone”

“stop showing me a picture of an empty wallet”

coming to the zones

1. The first thing that you notice is the stillness, the quiet- right before sunrise, right as dusk begins to fall. After the muted hum of the city, the pulse of electricity, the silence is unsettling.

2. After not eating for three days, you’ll find out what the inside of a rabbit looks like. You’ll throw up bile on the side of the road after you gut the animal, you’ll cry yourself to sleep with a full stomach.

3. You learn how to tell the difference between approaching footsteps and bushes being rustled by the wind the hard way. That same night, you are in your first firefight, you kill your first person. You stare into your campfire four hours later wondering if dracs even are people. The new blaster wound on your arm will be your first scar.

4. You feel like grime and sweat and dust have been ground into your skin, you don’t know if you’ll ever be clean again. You consider the morality of killing for a shower.

5. You get a car. You drive all night, just because you can, burning up more gas than you can afford. You don’t care, it’s impossible to care when you’re going 110mph down desolate two lane.

6. You bury someone that you love. Maybe, if the soil is too rocky, you burn them. Maybe there’s no time for any of that, you’ve gotta get out of you’ll be ghosted too, and you come back that night to find that their body is gone. It doesn’t feel real. You cry, and the little voice in the back of your head whispers that you’re wasting water.

Clue Starter Pack

“Yep. Two corpses. Everything’s fine.”

“Please, there are ladies present!”

“What are you afraid of, a fate worse than death?”

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing illegal about any of this.”

“That’s right! The head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation!”

”But look what happened to the cook!”

“I feel no personal shame or guilt about this, but I must keep it a secret, or I will lose my job on security grounds.”

“You’ve got blood on your hands.”


“Ladies and gentlemen, you all have one thing in common: you’re all being blackmailed. For some considerable time, all of you have been paying what you can afford, and in some cases more than you can afford, to someone who threatens to expose you. And none of you know who’s blackmailing you. Do you?”

“I suggest we take the cook’s body into the study.”

“Indeed no, ___. I’m merely a humble butler.”

“That was uncalled for!”

“Well, one of us must have killed ___!”

“Picked up the dagger, ran down the hall, and stabbed the cook!”

“There’s a homicidal maniac about.”

“Look, the bullet broke that vase on the mantle.”

“Well, you had the gun; if you didn’t shoot ___, who did?”

“I’m sorry, excuse me. ___’s absolutely right. Look, there’s a bullet hole here in the wall, see that?”

“We’ve gotta know who did it. We’re all in this together now.”

“___ secret? Oh, haven’t you guessed? ___’s the one who’s blackmailing you.”

Managing Splenda Expectations

While we all dream of one day meeting that mythical SD that can offer us $10k/month with presents and travel and mentorship and support, the truth is there aren’t many of those to go around. They’re called the 0.1% for a reason. 

What there are a lot of though, are kind, generous, wonderful potential Sugar Daddies - with limited budgets. These men are genuine about spoiling you, and for a lot of them, they would give more if they could - they are the perfect SD in all but budget. Right now, realistically, $500 or $1000 a month is all they can offer.

Now, if that doesn’t work for you, it doesn’t work for you. Don’t push them to spend more than they can afford. That just leads to unhappy SDs piling a bunch of expectations and pressure on you to justify their overspending. 

But if you’re thinking “Hey, yeah, $1000 a month from a man whose company I enjoy is nothing to sneeze at” - then it just becomes a question of making sure everyone is on the same page with expectations. 

Where things can go a little wonky is when these men with $1000 budgets want $10k worth of your time. They want to see you several times a week, and text all day, and plan trips with you, and it can be difficult to set limits on that without outright saying “I want $x/hour, and if you have $x spend, you get that many hours” - that can be uncomfortable for everyone involved.

I ran into this uncomfortable conversation a time or two, and I didn’t always handle it well. But after a couple hits and misses, I developed the following short response that adjusted “$1000 for a couple of meetings a month and weekend trips” to “1 weekend a month and some pictures”

“In the same way you have a financial budget to work with, I have a time budget. I have a lot of really ambitious goals that I am working towards, and I need to make sure that I’m investing my time in ways that best support me. I really enjoy our connection. And it’s important to me that this arrangement be mutually beneficial, and doesn’t involve either of us overextending ourselves. I hope you can respect the amount of time I have available the same way I respect the amount of money you can spend”

something that bugs me about backlash to a living minimum wage with statements like “but they can’t afford it!” and “they won’t hire as many people!” is that… yes. yes, that’s the point.

Maybe this is basic 101 stuff but normally you can’t or shouldn’t spend more money than you take in. You can only afford to open as many locations as you can pay for, have as many workers as you can pay for, use as much materials or have as many facilities as you can replenish and service. Theoretically, the size of a business is limited by how much it can pay to sustain.

But to compete in an environment where being unsustainably huge is the norm, businesses do not want to be limited by basic principles of budget. So businesses that pay their workers less, buy from suppliers that undercut by also not paying their workers a minimum wage, etc. outcompete in size and income businesses that ensure their workers and pay living wages.

This leads to the destruction of local economies, local businesses. Instead of an environment with a great many companies that each pay less employees more money, there are now far fewer companies with vast amounts of employees working for much less. This is also why it’s often a sham when people say, “the job market is up! thousands of jobs have been added!” because often times? Those jobs suck. They aren’t local businesses that need skilled employees and will pay to support a household, they are large businesses that will pay the least amount of money they can to get the most amount of work possible. And even then, it’s a stretch to hire a minimum amount of workers, because even a pittance is still money they have to spend. Pointing to dozens of people getting hired and saying the job market is saved because unemployment is down means relatively little if they are still in poverty or need significant assistance to support themselves.

There’s also no incentive to be competitive in wages or benefits. A “competitive wage” now means, “you’re competing with other workers for who can offer the labor at the cheapest price,” and not “the employers are competing to appeal to you, because they need your work and you are now much more valuable.”

But if businesses were limited in a sensible way, there would be more of them because you need more businesses locally to cover the turf of one damn walmart or whatever. and all of those additional businesses need people to work in them. Probably far more positions would open than just what that damn walmart or call center is willing to open for peanuts. More positions at higher levels are needed. Because ten stores that each need high level positions, will employ more skilled employees than just one store ten times ordinary size.

Basically what I am saying is that we desperately need major corporations to pay what they can afford. If they can’t afford to pay all their employees a living wage, they shouldn’t have been the size they are in the first place. That they need such-and-such specs to be competitive doesn’t overturn the basic reality of. you should only be paying what you can afford. Because when something as big as a large corporation can’t, everybody down the line can’t either because they’re not being paid what they’re worth.

OK so this avocado toast thing is not only hilarious, but just to give you a bit of perspective, the guy in the article is Australian, and here avocados cost about $2, out about $12-15 if you’re having it on toast, and the median house price in in Sydney is $995,804 so all you Americans talking about cheap avocados and $250,000 houses need to know that this is even stupider and more patronizing than you thought because fucking no one can afford a house in Australia’s major cities even if they lived off air. 

Klaine one-shot - “The Life You Think You Deserve” (Rated PG13)

Blaine is making a huge change in his life. He’s starting by going to Kurt, a man with a specific talent that will help him move on. (5274 words)

Notes (or, in this case, petty commentary. Read if you want, or skip to the warnings down below): This is the re-write that I was actually the most excited about because it’s kind of a huge f-u to everyone in the K*urtbastian fandom who’s ever sh*t on my work. When I wrote this, it was a character study. But it actually got torn apart by two fandom writers - one K*urtbastian and one multishipper. One of them even made a post on tumblr about how I don’t write Sebastian, I write badboy Blaine and pass him off as Sebastian, and this fic was the focus of that. Well, I thought this one was touching and brilliant, and hopefully, now that I’ve changed it, it will get the love I think it deserves! (See what I did there? I … well, never mind.)

Warnings for mention of self-harm scars, mention of blood, and mention of Blaine being married to Quinn.

Skank Kurt. Closeted Blaine.

Read on AO3.

Blaine paces outside the run-down, red-bricked, residential loft that he had to bribe a taxi cab driver to take him to. He can honestly say that he has never feared for his life before tonight, so he can chalk this up as a first on his list of life experiences. He runs his hands up and down his arms while he tries to decide whether he will push the buzzer for the door or not. No matter what happens, he came here willingly, so he has no one to blame but himself.

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anonymous asked:

Part 2 of your older Damian and the son one? Maybe about Talia taking the kid

Hi, unfortunately, no matter how many times I have tried writing a part two to this, it just did not come out like what I wanted. Initially I was not even going to go ahead with a part two which is why this probably short. Nevertheless, hope you enjoyed! Thank you for requesting!

Damian storms in to his old place, narrowing his eyes at the sight of his mother. He grabs the swords and storms up to his mother. “How dare you take him away from me!” He roars before attempting to attack Talia. Talia, anticipating her son’s moves, immediately dodges before doing something unexpected.

Talia grabs on to his son, causing Damian to immediately pause at how scared his son looks like. “Talia, give him back!”

His son lets out a whimper as he struggles to leave out of the woman’s arms. He feels scared and he wants his Father and his mother. He could almost feel the tears welling up. “Father,” He calls out to Damian.

Damian grits his teeth when Talia simply gives him a smirk. “How about we strike a deal, my son?” Talia asks coyly as she ran a finger down his son’s cheek causing his son to let out another whimper. “It is most unfortunate that my own grandson does not even know who I am – what have you been teaching him, my son?”

“Nothing that should surprise you, Talia.” Damian growls as his mind races, coming up with plans and making sure his back-up plans had their own back-up plans. He wishes you were here but as much as he would love for you to come with him as he takes his mother’s place by storm, he rather you stay at home to look after yourself. You had broken your arm from a mission and were still recuperating. “I need my son back.”

Talia pouts. All she wanted to do was to spend some time with her son and her own grandson. “How about you listen to what I have to propose?” She asks, not quite giving up. After taking her grandson earlier, she had been immediately taken with the little boy who had been the spitting image of her own son. He would make the perfect weapon giving some training.

But before Talia could even propose anything else, suddenly her grandson turned around to bite down on the hand she had around him and Talia lets out a shout, surprised to feel the very sharp teeth. She immediately let go of her hold on her grandson and he immediately runs to his father. Damian hugs his son close to him.

“You have forgotten who his mother is – I may have let you off easily today, mother, but I will show you no mercy the next time you cross me.” Damian exclaims, narrowing his eyes at his mother’s figure. “See to it that you remember that – you would not want to lose any more men than you can afford too.” He mutters loud enough for his mother to hear before leaving the place with his son wrapping his arms around Damian’s neck lovingly. He cannot wait to get back home!

What A Weird Relationship (2/5) - Peter Parker x (f)Reader x Brother!Stark

Originally posted by captain-pizzamaster

Words: 1518
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader x Brother!Stark
Featuring: Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson
Warnings: sad/mad reader, lil bit of yelling
Requested: Still part of the 1000 follower special series
Authors Note: REMINDER: this is set like after Civil War, and there is still the two teams. I love this a lot more than I thought I would. ALSO, IVE ALMOST COMPLETED MY LIFE GOAL. 1234 FOLLOWERS.

One Two Three Four Five Six


“He was beyond pissed.” You told Peter as you kicked his hand. It was Friday, and you guys were training together.

“I’ve always hated that teacher.” He shrugged. “Ouch! Watch it.” Peter told you when you accidentally kicked his arm.

“Oops, sorry.” You laughed a bit, causing Peter to laugh. “Want to take a break and go get some food?”

“I’m always down for food.” Peter smiled at you. You both began to unwrap your hands and you walked out of the training room together.

“Hey (Y/N)- oh, hello Mr. Parker.” Natasha came up behind you two.

“Hi Miss Romanoff!” Peter smiled.

“Hey Nat. What’s up?” You asked.

“Tony’s going insane and yelling at somebody..I heard your name a few times. Check on him for me?” Natasha asked.

You sighed. “Tell him I have a boy over and that’ll freak him out enough to stop from killing someone.”

“Please.” Natasha said to you.

“I’ll see what I can do. Order Peter and I a pizza, please!” You said as you began to walk down the hallway.

“Pepperoni, please!” Peter called before you grabbed his wrist and pulled him around the corner to take him to Tony’s office.

“You do not want to fight me on this!” You heard Tony yelling. “I’ll do everything in my power to show how horrible my daughter and I were treated the other day to everyone! But, of course, if you fix this, then only a few people will have to know.”

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(hi my name is FIRST CHILD,
the real first child
of a woman i call my mother
and a man six feet under
and my mother did her damnedest
to keep me away from my father
for reasons kept a mystery.
when he talks to his new kids,
my name is preceded by “sister”
so they never forget this ghost is a
half-sister, barely there
on the edges of their reality
and then he died
and i came by
and we spent time together
and we love each other
aunts and uncles to my own kids
half-related, full-hearted)
hi my name is FIRST CHILD
call me canary in the coal mine
i don’t want you to teach me
i don’t want you to hug me
i don’t want you to pity me
i’ve done it all myself from day one
lies drip from my mouth like
blood drips from yours
if i can hold it, it’s mine
and if i can dream it, it’s mine
and if you touch what’s mine
you’ll pay more than you can afford
i’m the example and the leader
but don’t insult me with your pedestal
i’m no shining white angel
from my sins and discoveries
i’ll build my own throne
hi my name is SECOND CHILD
head in the clouds, heart on my sleeve
and if you want disaster,
if you want a story told true,
if you want blood self-spilled,
if you want tales told to trees,
i’m your go-to pal, gal.
i’ll bloody my knuckles for kith and kin,
but lock me in my bedroom,
set me to sleep in the bathroom,
give me bread and water once a day,
leave me bruises when you go,
and expect my tearful apology
in 1-3 business days.
text, don’t call, or i’ll assume the worst
no, you can’t come into my room
approach softly, no sudden movements,
and my bleeding heart may slow.
hi my name is THIRD CHILD
the likes of which you’ve never seen
a mind like a steel trap
and a soul like a ship bottle
though a boy, i am a mother
of a hundred spiders, a thousand tadpoles
and a language born of my tics
and jokes and calls and stims
and am i ever a whiz at math and science!
how many beatings till blood flows?
how many skipped meals till sobs stop?
how much can my fragile body take?
how many wrong ways are there to
be a normal person?
be a good son?
be a real man?
according to my calculations,
when abuse is set to zero
i do just fucking fine.
who’d have thought?
hi my name is FOURTH CHILD
but don’t call me that
i can’t wait to be out of here
perfect attendance, stellar grades,
fine-tuned appearance to all peers.
image perfected by blows and neglect.
fewer, now, i mellow him out.
that’s what happens with perfection.
but if you have CHILD blood like me
i will rip you apart
and wear your body parts as ornaments
so my friends tell me i’m marvelous
i’ll sell family secrets for love
i don’t know where to love
i can harm whoever i want because
my family will always love me
my family will never leave me
…. right?
oh, who needed you, anyway.
hi my name is FIFTH CHILD
and if i raise my voice, you’ll hear me
from a scalding mother and icy father
i’ve arrived with a warming charm
by now, the others have taken the blows
but they’ve also taken the titles.
but don’t tell me what’s left, i’ll find it
trust me to find the scapegoats
trust me to defend the friendless
trust me to help the weak
trust me to heal the hurt
i cried when the picture came from iraq
and i saw my dad with a sidearm
i was the only one who was worried
i knew he wouldn’t come back safely
i don’t know the right thing to do
i don’t know the right thing to be
but i’ll do the searching myself
and don’t you ask what i’m doing
you know i’ll answer
“my best”
hi my name is SIXTH CHILD
and i don’t know if i count just yet
i was mostly spared the cruelty
but my father died when i was too young
and i can’t remember his voice
no trophies on the shelf have my name
when the others’ minds outpace mine
and they don’t give ribbons for heart.
and just as i am growing into myself
my family is leaving me alone
one by one, right after the other
and coming back a year later
FIRST, by learning the hard way
SECOND, by doctor’s orders
THIRD, just for the summer, why not
my eyes see color like no one else sees
my heart sees pain like no one else sees
my voice is too tremulous to be heard
but my hands heal what they can
and more than anyone else’s
if you see me, wave hello,
and maybe you’ll see me smile
—  DYNAMICS by nephopsychus

someone: oh you can totally travel the world and go to europe you just have to save enough money and save right so that you can go

me: you sound like someone who doesn’t pay their own bills

So why is it funny that people got swindled out of their money and are stranded outside of the country on an island in less than hospitable conditions? 

Basically everyone thinks its funny because these people are wealthy, as if because they have more money than you they somehow deserve this. People are always gonna have more money than you, but it doesn’t mean that because someone can afford something ridiculous like this that they deserve to be stranded in unsafe conditions.

 People are passing out due to dehydration and dumblr fucktards are laughing about how much money they spent to do so. These same people would probably throw a fit if something like this happened at Coachella or EDC.

You same fucking assholes who will sit on this site and claim to accept all types of people, march in fucking rallies and shit but its fine if someone gets fucked over if their income is higher than yours.

You guys are a fucking joke. 


Sugar Tree is dying. I am shaking writng this.

Sugar was just rushed to the emergency room. She was bitten by a rattlesnake. She may die. And I just really need that to not happen because I can’t lose my Sugar. I just really can’t.

Please think about her. She is hospital getting treated with antivenom. Her prognosis is not good, but it is not terrible. In 16 hours after running two blood clotting tests they will have a better idea if she is going to live.

I am beyond devastated. I can’t do anything ever again with her, I swear.

This is after I took a very risky chance at crawling under my house to save the rattlesnake and relocate it far from the property, instead of harming him.

I’m disappointed with myself and I let her down– by taking a very risk chance of crawling under my house. In an attempt to capture the rattlesnake alive and re-locate him from the from the property. I risked my own life in a tight situation with a rattlesnake at striking distance.

If that snake kills Sugar Tree. There isn’t anything in the world that will ever make it right. I love all animals, but that snake wasn’t worth an ounce to anyone what Sugar Tree meant to me. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.

Please, please, please think of Sugar Tree!

Post pictures of her, talk about her, re-blog this, Anything. I believe that if you think enough about someone that the energy helps them to recover internal damage more so than if they were lost and forgotten.

Just think of her all you can.

She’s going to be okay would be a good start. Though she is not okay at all. She was bit and injected by both fangs of a young Western Diamond Snake. Her vitals on some ends do not look well. This was after making it over to the vet in an hour from the attack. With me driving 100mph swerving in and out of traffic.

I think she would be dead already had we not acted quickly. M god I am crying writing this. She’s at the hospital still and will be there up to 48 hours. They said in 15 hours they will have a better chance as to whether she is going to make it or not. And that even if she is done with the anti-venom she still has a risk of death. I would do anything to go back and take the bite for her. anything.

I am just in agony and I needed to post this. She could even be dead this very moment and I have no idea. She is my moosh. We have been through everything together over the last 9 years. so much we’ve seen and done and I just can’t imagine life without her.

Moosh, I love you so much. I will never forgive myself for putting that waste of a boot’s life over yours. I put my own life in danger, too. Crawling into a tight corner with him for relocation away from the property. I should have beat that highly aggressive waste the second I saw it.

But I wanted not to harm him. I wanted to help him to go live a life where someone is less likely to come along and kill him….

Now I know: Try and help a snake

And it will turn back to you as it always was a snake will always shed his skin to reveal another snake within.

Anyone want to take the skin from this snake and make Sugar Tree a collar out of it? She deserves it. I nearly died, too and Buttermilk and Baladi were struck at!

But no matter how much I need this more than anything right now, I hesitated to mention the fact that antivenom and my contract to do w whatever they can to save her life is more than I can afford and I need your help. Even if you can just chip in a few dollars.

Walked out of the emergency vet a few hours ago with a $4,000.00 bill. It may be as much as $10,000.00 at the end.

Sugar Tree is more important than anything else and money means nothing to your dog and your dog means anything to you. :(

But I have no idea how to pay for this and I doing everything I can to save her. No matter what.

Please help if you can. Reblog this. I cannot. Cannot lose her.

I don’t have a kickstarter or anything this just happened, btu I can make one.

I still feel awful for asking, but I love Sugar Tree so much I’d go out and rob a bank for her right now if there was no other way.

Keep her in your thoughts, please. I will update frequently. I don’t know how I can survive the next 15 hours until I know how bad it was and it may be bad enough that nothing known in science today will be able to save her. she is 9 years old and I can’t say much more. And i won’t live without her.

Sugar Tree, I love you. I WILL see you soon. You are strong and I know you’d never let me down.

You protected me from a snake, when all I did was try to protect the snake from having to be killed when it tried to kill you or any other of the animals.

Thank you, thank you so much. Please send love all you can. Post to Facebook everywhere. she is such a special dog. she just really is. Thank you for your support in any way. I am rushing now to see what I can do to pay to continue her treatments at any and all cost.

This is the fourth installment in this series. You can read the first one here, the second one here, and the third one here. They’re also all on AO3 here

Summary: Sansa is a physical therapist doing her clinic hours in Milwaukee for the winter. Jon, her downstairs neighbor, is a veteran who’s come back from Afghanistan. They first met during a power outage, and have been getting to know each other since then, sharing a meal every Tuesday. They’ve had some Thanksgiving and Christmas adventures, and have been friends for about six months. Now Jon’s leaving for a summer sailing vacation with his army buddies, and he wants to write to Sansa while he’s gone. He has trouble telling her how he feels when they’re together, but he opens up when he writes.


“I’m so jealous, Jon! A trip to the Virgin Islands with your old army buddies.” Sansa had finally gotten the news out of Jon at the end of their meal. They were sitting on the couch in her apartment. She had the AC cranked up. Summers in Milwaukee were hot and muggy. The old, single-pane windows were fogging up, but at least she and Jon were comfortable.

Plus Jon wore t-shirts all the time, so she called the summer a win.

Jon started clearing away the dishes. She followed him to the kitchen. He tried to keep her from helping, since she’d cooked. She took a towel and shot him a just you try it look, so he gave in. Her galley kitchen had a double-basin sink but no dishwasher. They formed their own little assembly line as Jon washed and Sansa dried.

“We planned the trip a long time ago,” he said. “For when Sam turned 25. We fly to Miami first. Ten days, five ports. It’ll be about three weeks total. We’re chartering a boat, so we’re not doing the big cruise ship thing. We all know how to sail. I almost cancelled, I haven’t got much money-“

Sansa put the glass down a little too forcefully. “Jon, how could you? Sam’s counting on you and you deserve to have fun, even if it costs a little more money than you can afford. You can’t put a price on-“

“Memories, I know.” Jon’s mouth quirked. “Trust me, you convinced me about a week ago.”

“You only told me about it tonight!”

“I have conversations with you in my head.” Jon sloshed the soap around. “Okay, that sounded really strange. I mean, you give me good advice, and I remember it. Sometimes I ask you questions even when you’re not there….And that sounds weird too.” He paused. “I-“

Sansa took pity on him. Actually, she was touched he thought about her when they weren’t together.

“I’m just a little mad that I’m so predictable, is all.”

“Don’t be. You’re really easy to talk to.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls who cook you pizza.”

“I don’t, Sansa.”

“Yeah, because I’m the only girl who makes you pizza.”

“You are, but–“ Jon stopped scrubbing the plate. He closed his eyes. This weight in the air between them came up more often now that they’d been friends for six months. Sansa didn’t know whether to lean into it or shy away from it.

She took the easy way out. “So when are you leaving?”

He handed her the last dish.

“This weekend. Can I – Can I write you while I’m gone, Sansa?”

“You’re only gone for a few weeks, Jon, you don’t have to go to all that trouble.” She would miss him though. A lot.  She wondered if she looked distraught. He was leaving for less than a month. She was a big girl. She’d be fine.

She tried to lighten the mood. “Besides, we do this thing called texting in the 21st century, remember? I text you about a blackout in our apartment and you come save the day. You text me about a burned turkey and I talk you into ordering fried kitchen when your buddies visit.”

“You saved the day, too, on Thanksgiving,” he said.

“And we even managed to have a fight about mousetraps over text.”

“We figured it out though.” He was smiling.

“See? Texting it is.”

Jon glanced away. He took the dishtowel from her and hung it to dry, then looked at her again.

“May I write you, Sansa?”

There was so much yearning in his expression that she felt like he was asking if he could kiss her.

Read more below or continue on AO3

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