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Archive for the tag “genre: angst”

Girl Genius fic: Sacrifices Better Left Undone

The machine is finished. It works just as Agatha predicted. But not everything goes according to plan. Now Gil has to make a difficult decision. Too bad Tarvek is thinking the same thing. Written for Day three of Girl Genius Week 2018.
1100 words | [PG]


Gil stumbled back as their creation came to life. It chugged and whistled while it gained momentum, gears spinning and parts clanking in a growing cacophony.

“Is it supposed to do that?” Tarvek shouted over the noise, his voice shriller than usual.

“I-” Gil joined Tarvek a few feet from the machine. “I have no idea.” The contraption vibrated violently, raining dust and debris from the ceiling as the tremors grew. Gil feared it might tear itself apart and take half the castle with it. What have we even done?

Tarvek said something Gil couldn’t hear—alarm etched all over his face. Gil shook his head in confusion.

Then it all stopped. The silence was deafening. They exchanged worrying looks before Gil inched forward.

“What are you doing?” Tarvek screeched, grabbing at Gil’s arm.

“Something’s-”

The rest of his statement was lost to the boom of an explosion. The blast threw them across the room. Gil skid along the rough, stone floor, landing in a heap with Tarvek. He groaned as they untangled battered limbs. Read more…

Girl Genius fic: The Distance Between Us

gg_thedistancebetweenusGil has spent the last three years of his life fighting to save his friends, and now it’s over. They won. It’s time to settle down and enjoy the victory. Except nothing is ever that easy for Gil. Just when he was finding peace, Tarvek and Agatha throw him a curve ball. And it hurts.
1003 words | [PG]


“I need space.”

Gil blinked at Agatha, not sure he heard her correctly. “Space? What does that mean?”

Agatha took a deep breath the way Gil’s father always did when he was coming to the end of his rope. “Gil, ever since we got back from England you’ve been-” She paused, apparently searching for the correct word. “Needy.”

“Needy?”

“I was going to say ‘clingy.’” said Tarvek, “but ‘needy’ works, too.”

“You’re so intense all of the time. Like you’re dialed up to twelve and the knob has broken off.”

Gil frowned at her. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s just a lot sometimes.”

“A lot?” Gil was aware he was repeating everything, but it was taking all his resources to process what she was saying.

Tarvek joined Agatha in front of him, linking their hands together. A united front. “It can be overwhelming,” he added. Read more…

The 100 fic: Hope is a Four-Letter Word

Hope is a Four-Letter Word

Clarke had Bellamy once upon a time and took it for granted. Now she’s paying the price. Or she could listen to Madi (and Echo) and take a chance.
300 words | [PG]


Clarke watched Bellamy with Echo from across the room. There was an ease and familiarity to their touch. One she’d never had with him. One she never would. She looked away, vision blurring with unshed tears. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Never in the six years she talked endlessly to a silent radio did she consider he’d find someone else. Why Echo?

“You okay?” Madi asked, sitting down beside her.

Clarke wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yeah, sure. I’m fine.”

Madi glanced over at the happy couple. “I don’t believe you.”

“You never believe me.”

“That’s because you’re never fine.” She glanced back again. “You should tell him. About the radio.”

“No.” Clarke jumped up and slipped out the back door of the church, Madi on her heels.

“Clarke, he should know.”

“Why? What’s the point? It’ll just make things more awkward between us.” The words rushed out as panic crushed her chest.

“But you’re in love with him”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Madi shook her head. “It might to him. You won’t know unless you try.”

“No. You don’t get it. You’re too young. It’s over. I had my chance and took it for granted and now-” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “It’s over.”

The door opened and shut. “You should talk to him.”

Clarke’s heart nearly stopped as Echo came down the stairs. “But-”

“Really, Clarke.” Echo ducked her head then walked away. What did that mean?

“Now’s your chance,” Madi said. “Don’t blow it again.”

Clarke stared hard at the door, willing her feet forward, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t face him yet—her heart hurt too much. But maybe… She glanced over her shoulder as Echo disappeared into the trees. Maybe there was hope. Just a little.

Girl Genius fic: The Beginning of Again

Eight-year-old Gil Holzfäller has made a few mistakes in his short, miserable life but none as far-reaching as getting his best friend expelled from his life.
1021 words | [G]


“Where are we going?” Gil asked the Baron. His little legs struggled to keep pace with the giant of a man next to him. His father. The thought baffled and terrified him in equal parts.

The Baron remained silent for several long seconds before finally answering. He sounded tired. “Your new quarters.”

Gil clutched his bag—filled with his few worldly possessions—tighter to his chest and tried to look around without looking like he was looking around. He had no idea where they were, and that said a lot considering how much of Castle Wulfenbach he’d explored over the years. There were few doors in the empty corridor and those weren’t marked in any way. How did the Baron even know where they were going?

They took several more turns leaving Gil to wonder if he was purposefully being led in circles so he’d be lost. He wasn’t sure if that’s something the Baron would do. It was something the other boys in the school would do. It’s how Gil got to be so good at getting around the ship. Necessity is the mother of invention, von Pinn had told him. Or in this case, a good sense of direction. Read more…

Red vs Blue fic: Midnight in the Garden of Our Past Lives

rvb_midnight.jpg

1440 words | [PG-13]
It’s late, and Wash can’t sleep. But he’s not the only one. Maybe what him and Carolina really need is someone to talk them through the dark night. Cuddling also works.


Wash isn’t sleeping anyway when he hears Carolina call out from the room across the hall. He stares blankly at the gray ceiling trying to ignore the sobs—she would hate to know he was listening. But the sound is a knife through his heart in more than one way. Still, he doesn’t move because she’d probably kick him in the balls if he tried to play the half-assed hero with her. Carolina is no damsel in distress.

But when the noise from her room fades, he silently slips from his bed. Wash is the only one that knows the code to her lock, and the soft click of it disengaging sounds abnormally loud in the late night. He waits for Carolina to throw open the door, gun in hand. Or something equally dramatic, but it’s quiet. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or bad.

He finds her sitting in bed, knees to her chest, staring into the dark. “Hey,” she says without looking at him like she knew he’d come. He has no idea why she would think that. He’s never done this before. Well, not the breaking and entering part—he can’t count the number of times he’s listened to her cry from outside her door, though. He needs to know she’s okay. Read more…

Stargate SG-1 fic: Just to See You Smile

justtoseeyousmile

1297 words | [PG]

After everything they’d been through, in the end, Jack would do anything for Sam, just to see her smile. Even if it meant giving her pre-wedding advice. AU after Affinity.
Lyrics by Tim McGraw.


And yesterday I knew just what you wanted
When you came walkin’ up to me with him.
So I told you that I was happy for you,
And given the chance I’d lie again.

Just to see you smile.

Jack sat on the roof of his house, a beer dangling from one hand, watching the stars twinkle far above. Like so many other times, he wondered how many of those specks of light he’d visited. How many of them had planets orbiting them that they hadn’t yet discovered? Not that he’d be going to any of them. Being a general generally sucked most of the time.

He took a sip of his beer. The cool breeze tickled his skin, causing goosebumps to pop up all along his arms. It was getting colder—summer was over.

Slowly, his eyes slid shut, but he forced them open. He didn’t like what he saw whenever they closed. There was that little black box and that nervous expression on Carter’s face. It had taken every ounce of military training to keep his face neutral. How could she have asked him about that? He swallowed hard because he knew why. She was giving him one last chance to stop the whole thing. To make a move. And he didn’t take it because of honor and the regulations and he was a big fat chicken. Read more…

The 100 fanfic: Heaven Can’t Wait

heavencantwaitThe 100 | [PG-13]
Canon divergent. With the Apocalypse banging at their door, the Arkadians and what’s left of Trikru take refuge in the remains of Alpha Station and hope for the best.

Over 500 souls crammed into a tin can, but there’s only one that has Bellamy wrapped around her little fingers. Written for Camp NaNo: heaven.


Table of Contents

Chapter 1 – Can’t Save Everyone
Chapter 2 – One Live Saved Is One Life Saved
Chapter 3 – Not Alone Anymore
Chapter 4 – Don’t Get Attached
Chapter 5 – Finally Got Something Right
Chapter 6 – A Little Sidetracked
Chapter 7 – I Think She Likes You
Chapter 8 – Baby Whisperer
Chapter 9 – In Too Deep
Chapter 10 – Can We Keep Her?

Read more…

The 100 fic: A Hero Without a Sunset to Ride Into

aheroThe war may be over, but the battles never end. Bellamy contemplates the consequences of war. Post-season 2 finale.
608 words | [PG-13]


The history books never tell you that the end of the war is just the beginning. It’s the start of cleaning up. Of healing wounds. Of returning to life. Or starting a new one.

Now that the war is over, Bellamy’s finding this part to be the hardest. As far as he can tell, they won, but it doesn’t feel like a victory. He’s exhausted—physically and emotionally. He feels like he’s been torn apart and stitched back together, but the seams don’t quite match up. His world has tilted into something unrecognizable. The color drained, sounds muffled. He wades through pain and swims in a fog so thick he can’t breathe without drowning.

He’s killed more people than he cares to count. His hands aren’t just covered in blood, he’s bathed in it. He hates the things he’s done. Hates the things he’s seen. He hates himself and the world and God if there is one. The war may be over, but the echoed screams of a murdered generation haunt his dreams. They wrench him from restless sleep—sweat-soaked and tear-stained. Only there’s no escape this time because he’s the monster in this nightmare.

Bellamy settles at a table in the mess hall but has neither strength nor motivation to eat. He stares blindly at the food, pushing it around on his plate. He thinks it might be pot roast. The mess is filled with people just like him—adrift in a stupor of heartache and misery. Personal hells of their own making. He’s never been more alone than in this crowded room.

He forces a smile on his face as his friends sit down, ignoring the empty spaces between them. They don’t talk about the missing. They don’t talk about anything really. Like Bellamy, they fake their smiles and chit-chat about the weather. And when they’re done, they’ll all go back to their quarters and weep for the people they once were.

This is the part they forget to tell you—that you don’t just mourn the dead. You mourn what used to be and what could have been. You mourn the spark of life that has fizzled out inside of you. You mourn the innocence you can never get back.

War is a one-way street—no U-turns allowed. Or maybe it’s like a raging river, tossing you in rapids until you are bruised and battered against the rocks only to throw you over the precipice of a waterfall that has no end yet you drown in it all the same.

The panic wells up out of nowhere. Bellamy’s world tilts a little more. He grips the table to ground himself and manages to breathe through the terror without anyone noticing. They’re all far too consumed by their own nightmares to notice his screams anyway.

Peace comes with a price. Surprise!—you fought for a future you no longer deserve. The blood on the fields will dry. The dead can be buried. Wounds heal and the sun rises, but a shattered soul can never be made whole. In his head and in his heart, Bellamy knows he’s broken—a fractured reflection of himself. His sins require absolution he cannot give.

So he eats with his friends and laughs at their jokes. He breathes in and out. In the mornings, he goes to work, and every night the Devil returns to chase him to the brink of his sanity. He’s afraid one day he might jump. It would be a lot easier.

Because the books don’t tell you how to make peace with your demons.

They don’t tell you how to start over again.

They don’t tell you it’s the beginning of the end.

The 100 fic: Us Against Everything

usagainsteverything.jpg

[Bellamy/Clarke]
Canon divergent. With a brutal winter ahead, Bellamy realizes there might be more than friendship growing between him and Clarke. Written for April Camp NaNoWriMo: breathe.
1539 words | [PG]


Bellamy gets back to camp late. It’s hard to tell the exact time with it getting dark so early, but he figures it must be after nine. The sun went down long ago, and it’s abysmally cold. He blows into his hands, trying to warm his numb fingers. Two fires are burning, but the space around them is empty of their usual laughing kids.

Sterling and two of the other guys he’s with make a beeline for the fire, practically holding their hands in the flames. The other three high-tail it into the dropship. Raven and Monty are still working to get the heat going, but eighty-something bodies crammed into a tin can keeps them warm enough for now. It’s better than being outside anyway.

It’d taken all day, but they’d finally buried the three they lost last night–Edith, Jerome, and Bennett. Edith was only fourteen and down here for talking back to a teacher. He shakes his head. He still can’t believe what they did to these kids. Sure, some of them were hardened criminals. There were killers and rapists among them, but most of the kids were arrested for petty stuff—shoplifting, fist fights, hoarding. It’s almost as if they knew they needed the bodies to fill the dropship so they arrested the kids for anything. Bastards.

His body aches, but he still goes down the line, checking the tents to make sure everyone has moved inside. As he nears the dropship, he hears something in the darkness. His hand drops instinctively to the hatchet at his waist. He approaches slowly. Someone gasps then goes quiet. Crying. He finds Clarke leaning against the dropship, wiping away the tears with her fingertips as if trying to erase the evidence. He’s not sure what he thinks about that.

Bellamy looks around, wishing one of her friends would suddenly appear. Monty or Raven or Octavia. Someone that isn’t him. They’ve been getting along okay the last few weeks, but that doesn’t mean he wants to listen to her blubber about whatever girl thing is bothering her. Of course, there’s no one in sight. He wants to leave her, but an instinctive force compels him forward.

He’ll probably regret this. “You okay, princess?” His voice sounds rougher than expected. Must be the cold.

“I’m fine,” she mumbles, not looking at him.

Of course she is. He steps closer. “Then come inside; it’s cold out here.”

Clarke laughs flatly, her breath hanging in the air for a few seconds. “It’s cold in there, too. It’s cold everywhere.” She sniffles, covering her face with her hands.

Bellamy taps his finger against the hatchet. Definitely going to regret this. Joining her against the dropship, it’s obvious why Clarke picked this spot. He can’t even see camp from here. Their world is suddenly nothing more than trees and brush. And darkness. It’s comforting and intimidating. Vast yet intimate. He listens to Clarke cry softly. He thinks he understands. He’s just as frustrated. Just as scared. He worries about everyone constantly.

It used to be just Octavia. He came down to protect her—his sister, his responsibility—but instead, he gained ninety-eight other brothers and sisters. They’re down to eighty-two at last count, and every death weighs on his mind. Every grave dug takes a bit of his soul. The deaths seem nearly daily now which is why he ordered everyone inside tonight. Too little, too late. They’ll be lucky to make it through winter. They’ll be lucky to make it through the month. If the cold doesn’t kill them, they’ll starve to death soon enough. He leans his head back with a sigh. He doesn’t know what else he can do.

“I can’t save them,” Clarke whispers, mirroring his thoughts.

Bellamy looks over at her. Her arms are wrapped tight around her as she stares into the darkness. He doesn’t know what to tell to her because the weight of those eighty-two lives crushes him, too. “We’ll figure it out,” he finally murmurs. Because what else can he say?

“We’re going to die.” She sniffles again.

He hates seeing her cry almost as much as Octavia. He reaches for her without thinking but stops, hand hovering uncertainly over her shoulder. She looks up at him with desperate, watery eyes. Something cracks in his chest, letting a warmth rush in. He slips his arm around her shoulders and pulls her close.

He’s surprised when Clarke wraps her arms around his waist and settles her head on his shoulder. “We’re going to figure this out,” he whispers.

“How?”

He has no answer. “I don’t know, but the two of us together can do this.”

“But they keep dying. And I can’t save them.” She sucks in a breath and lets it out in a sob. Bellamy tucks her head under his chin, rubbing little circles on her back like he used to do for Octavia

“You’re not a doctor, Clarke. You’re doing the best you can. I should have made everyone move into the dropship days ago.” He swallows hard. “You warned me, and I didn’t listen. So if anything, it’s my fault.” He keeps making one mistake after another. He just buried three of them.

“It’s not going to be enough. There’s still no heat. Food and water are low which is making everyone edgy. The bullies are preying on the other kids-”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“And even then our chances are slim. All it will take is someone coming down with a virus. Everyone packed in close quarters is a recipe for disaster. Everyone will get sick and they’ll die.” The words tumble out.

He cups her face in his hands. “Clarke, breathe.”

She grabs his wrists, gasping for air as she fights to regain control. Bellamy finds it more than a little unsettling to see her like this. He’s come to rely on Clarke to be strong. He looks to her for guidance. If he sees that almost imperceptible nod of approval or the little twitch of her lips when she’s trying not to smile, he knows he’s on the right track. He needs Clarke. The thought blindsides him, but the moment he thinks it, he knows it’s true. A sudden lump in his throat threatens to choke him.

He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead against hers. “We’re going to get through this,” he tells her firmly, trying to convince himself as much as her. “You and me.” He’s not really sure what he means. His words are filled with more meaning than he’d intended.

“Do you really believe that?” she asks.

“I do. We can do anything together.”

When he opens his eyes, her penetrating gaze meets his, sending his heart racing. Damn, when did this happen? When did Clarke start having this effect on him? He’s not sure he likes it, but he can’t look away. She slowly licks her lips—his eyes tracking her tongue. Why is he thinking about kissing her now? This is not the time. No, there is never a time because it’s never going to happen.

Then why does she seem closer than she was a second ago? Did she just look at his mouth? He’s suddenly not very cold anymore. In fact, he feels sweat trickle down the back of his neck. Crap. He doesn’t want this. His life is complicated enough without falling for Clarke. They can barely stand to be around each other half the time.

Before he can do anything stupid like kiss her, he tugs her into another hug. Her arms wrap around his neck this time. He wishes he knew what she was thinking because his thoughts are bouncing all over the place. They keep landing back on how good it feels with her in his arms. How he never wants to let her go. How much he wants to kiss her. He shivers at the thought.

Clarke steps back with a sigh—almost reluctantly. She wipes her eyes and laughs. “I’m a mess.”

Bellamy bites back a smile. “We’re all a mess, Clarke,” he says, wiping his grimy hands on his even grimier shirt.

“I meant on the inside.”

“I know.” Her eyeroll settles his nerves. They’re going to be okay. They have to be because he’s not sure he can do this without her. He doesn’t tell her that, though. He bottles up all of the emotions—all the urges— raging through him then clears his throat. “We should get inside before we freeze to death.”

Clarke grabs his wrist. “Promise me, Bellamy,” she says, voice cracking. “Promise we’re going to make it.”

The lump is back, making it hard to breathe. Her hand slides down until their fingers tangle together. He can’t make that promise, and she knows it. But he nods anyway. “I promise.”

She gives him a weak smile then squeezes his hand once before letting it go. She squares her shoulders then marches out of the shadows and into the light of the fires glowing in front of the dropship. Bellamy follows her because he has no other choice. They’re in this together, and they will make it. Together.

The 100 fic: Wash Away the Pain

blood

Clarke has too much blood on her hands, but Bellamy is there to help wash it away.
1272 words | rating: PG-13


Clarke staggers through the trees towards the rush of water she hears in the distance. Her right hand presses against a growing pain in her side. Her left hangs limply, knife dangling from her fingertips. The noise of the river drowns out the echoing screams of death in her head.

She falls to her knees on the bank, retching until the bile erases the bitter taste of copper that stings the back of her throat.

So much blood.

It’s everywhere—staining her clothes, caking her hair, dripping from her eyelashes. She stares at her hands—sticky with red—until they blur behind a curtain of tears. She thrusts her hands into the freezing water, scrubbing her skin raw, but the red isn’t going away.
Her chest seizes up as another sob wracks her.

It’s not my blood.

“Clarke?”

She’s not sure if she’s relieved or terrified that it’s Bellamy that followed her. She goes back to scrubbing the blood from her hands. Bellamy squats next to her, pulling her hands from the water to hold between his. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and wipes a line of blood trickling from her temple.

“What do I do?” she whispers. “I can’t get it off.”

He looks down at her hands. “They’re clean, Clarke.”

She doesn’t believe him, but she’s afraid to look again. He watches her a moment longer then stands up, pulling her up with him. “Come on.”

He unties his boots, kicking them to the side. He tosses his jacket to the side and peels out of his t-shirt. Clarke swallows, squeezing her eyes shut. She doesn’t want to think about how perfect he looks without a shirt on or how he does have a smattering of freckles across his shoulders. It’s both adorable and sexy. And completely inappropriate.

Bellamy leans over and dips his shirt in the water then starts wiping her face. He’s gentle, starting at the top and working his way down. Despite the cold, she feels the heat rolling off of his bare skin.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

With my life, she wants to tell him, but the words catch in her throat. Instead, she nods. Without saying another word, he carefully pulls off her shoes and socks. The rocks dig into her blistered feet, but she doesn’t complain.

He bites his lip—his eyes catching hers. He holds her gaze as he carefully removes her jacket. His fingers trail down her arms, sending a shiver up her spine.

He grips the hem of her shirt. “Still with me?”

She nods again, closing her eyes as he lifts the shirt off of her. She’s not sure she can look at him now. He casually undoes her pants, and she steps out of them, shivering. But he’s not done. She hears the zipper of his pants—the fabric pooling at his feet. He grips her hand tightly and guides her into the river.

The water is like a thousand tiny daggers hitting her all at once. She gasps and nearly sucks in a lungful of water. Bellamy wraps his arms around her waist—their chests pressed together—to keep her from sinking.

Bellamy carefully leans her head back and washes her hair, threading his fingers through the knots. Then he wipes her cheeks with his thumbs. His hands glide down her arms, pulling her hands between them. He rubs at her fingernails until the dark stains are gone.

When she looks up at him, his face is blurred behind tears. She blinks them away. He gives her that shy, sad smile he reserves just for her. She knows the emotions behind it. The way she keeps breaking his heart. The way he just accepts it. Because that’s who he is. She loves him for that.

She swallows down the lump. She might be in love with him.

Before she can think better of it, she reaches up and wipes a smudge of dirt from his temple. He doesn’t take his eyes off of her as she returns his favor—cleaning his face and hair. Even when she’s done, she can’t stop running her fingers through his curls. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer until their bodies are completely flush. His nose brushes hers, and she lets out a little sigh.

“Clarke,” he says, voice rough. He pushes her hair from her face, letting his fingers skim her chilled cheeks. Everywhere he touches heats up. He leans in closer until their lips are barely touching. But something stops him. He pulls back ever so slightly, and she thinks she might die from the anticipation. He clears his throat. “Clarke, we-”

“Please,” she whispers. “Can we just forget about everything else. Just this once. Can it be just you and me? No Ark, no Earth, no grounders, no war.”

“No Lexa?”

She shakes her head. “Lexa’s gone.”

“Clarke, I don’t want you to forget her.”

“I’m not. But-” She runs her fingers over his lips. They’re chapped but soft. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose my chance.”

He chuckles softly. “With me?” He waits for her to look up. “Never, Clarke. I’ll be here when you’re ready. Whenever that is.” He slips his fingers into her hair and pulls her face closer, planting soft kisses on her forehead. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I love you, Clarke.”

Every molecule in her body hums alive at his words. She wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. He doesn’t question her breakdown; he just holds her tighter. When she finally gets control, she pulls back just far enough to see his face. The sun is setting behind him, casting him in shadows, but his eyes are wide, tracking her movements. She places a hand on either side of his face. The blood is finally gone—her skin shining white in the waning sun.

Slowly she leans forward, letting their lips touch softly. He doesn’t react at first, but she presses, knowing he just needs a sure confirmation. And then he groans. His arms tighten in a bear hug as he deepens the kiss. It’s like he can’t get enough. And damn, Clarke doesn’t want this to end. Some small part of her mind starts to compare this with her first kiss with Lexa, but she shoves it away—surprised at how easily she boxes up the memories. It’s been over a year; she has to move on eventually. And Bellamy’s been waiting this whole time.

When she pulls away again, his eyes are slightly unfocused but with a hint of fear like he thinks maybe she changed her mind. “Bellamy.”

He tenses, obviously waiting for it all to fall apart. Her heart aches for him. She did this to him. She left him over and over. Chose someone else at every turn. And he’s still here. At her side every day without question. Her lip trembles. And not from the cold. “I love you,” she whispers. And to erase any questions he might have, she adds, “I’m in love with you, Bellamy, and I have been for a long time.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, his body completely still. She meets his gaze as tears gather in the corners of his eyes. She tilts his face closer, kissing each tear away before returning to his lips.

“God, Clarke,” he moans into her mouth. “I love you so much.”

“I know. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure out what I wanted.”

He kisses her softly. “You’re worth the wait.”

She smiles against his lips. “So are you.”

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