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Post by orinocoflow on Nov 12, 2010 22:24:47 GMT -5
im a little stuck right now. i have an ending, but need to get there first. glad you guys like it!
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Post by aliblast on Nov 25, 2010 19:27:09 GMT -5
I love this!!!! I'm sorry that you're stuck just update whenever you can
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Post by orinocoflow on Dec 4, 2010 16:37:54 GMT -5
dont really like the way this update turned out, but i'll psot it and change it later if i dont like it. CB, give it to me with both barrels, i need the criticism for this one! Paul walked into the Black Box, looking around at the stage hands running around setting up the stage for the play that night. In the middle of it all stood a tired teacher, telling them what to do.
A little background. The Black Box is used for both choir and drama club, so there is always a mixture of both. The auditorium is rather small for a high school, seating only about 250, maybe 300 people. The stage is medium-sized, larger than most but nowhere near the best ones in local high schools. The teacher in charge of drama is also the one managing both choirs; needless to say, she is exhausted by the end of the day, and usually in a sour mood if something is not going well.
Coming up to her office door, he knocked politely, hoping that she was in one of her better moods. Recently she had found someone to help her out and had more time to focus on other things than the two classes.
She looked up and blinked, registering his face before standing immediately and coming forward, smiling.
“You must be the student who was singing the other day!” she said excitedly, shaking his hand. “I have heard quite a bit about you from my other students—they all want to meet you and hear you sing again.”
Paul was surprised, not sure how to take it. “Uh…really? Because I was actually hoping that you would let me audition for the A choir. I know it’s late in the year, but—“
“Of course! Here, go to room E 104 to warm your voice up, and I will be there in a moment.”
“If it’s not a problem…”
“Of course not! How could it be, with a voice like that? We don’t have a tenor at the moment; as a matter of fact, Homeland High hasn’t had any male singers after their voices have broken for the past several years; they all ruin them by singing too much instead of resting them.”
“Sure…” trailed off Paul as the woman went to figure out some confusion with the set changes for the upcoming play. Looking around, he followed the map he had until he found the room he had been sent to.
Inside, it looked just like the room he had once practiced in back as a student. Putting his bags down, he warmed up his voice as he remembered. He could hear some people stopping just outside the door to listen, but continued, ignoring them to make sure that he did the exercises correctly. When he finished, he sighed and sat down to wait for the woman to come.
“That has to be the best warm-up I have ever heard a student perform on their own,” said the teacher as she came up behind him, startling him. Turning in his seat, he wondered how she had managed to come in without having made much noise, and figured it must have been a while ago, while he had still been warming his voice.
“Er…thanks,” he managed, turning red. Back in his original high school, this kind of warm-up was considered natural and he would never have been congratulated for it. Standing up, he leaned on the desk as he waited for her to give him instructions.
“I’m going to play some music that you no doubt have heard, and you sing along to it whichever way you had learned it. Afterwards, I am going to have you sing something, any song of your choice, a capella. Lastly, I am going to give you sheet music and see how well you can read it. And if won’t trouble you at the end, pretty much everyone out there knows you are in here and would like to hear that song again,” she added with a smile.
Paul nodded solemnly, and then he realized what she had said. Blushing again, he looked down for a moment before meeting her gaze.
She sat behind the piano and began to play but then stopped and looked at him. “Oh, just so you know, the songs I am going to play are all Christmas songs, since I need to know if you will be able to perform in our Christmas show. All right?” When he nodded, she continued playing.
First was “Silent Night,” and he smiled to himself as he began to sing. After a little bit, however, she stopped and looked at him over the piano, but since he had closed his eyes for that moment he did not know. When he opened them, he faltered to a stop at her expression.
What was wrong? What had he done wrong? Paul wondered, his mind turning.
“What language is that?” she asked, watching him curiously. Paul blinked a couple times before he realized that he had been singing the song in Gaelic like he had been learning for the new show with CT. Shaking his head, he started laughing. Finally, after he stopped, he looked at her, his eyes bright.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t realize how I was singing. I had learned this song in another language as well and recently had not sung it in English, so I automatically started in Gaelic. I’m sorry,” he repeated, hoping that she would let him try again.
She looked at him for a few moments and then said, “Sing the rest—I like it this way better.”
Paul grinned and continued singing in Gaelic while she played. When he finished, she looked at him for a long time thoughtfully before telling him to sing a capella for her.
What should he sing? He wondered. ”Because we Believe?” “She?” “Nights in White Satin?” “Sway?” Grinning to himself at the last song, he decided to sing “She” since that was what had gotten him the role last time, and hopefully the song still had some luck with it. Rolling his shoulders under his jacket, he was about to sing when she stopped him again.
“What song? Oh, and take off your jacket—you look too nervous to be comfortable in it right now.”
Paul answered her question and followed her advice. And sure enough, he felt better as soon as he hung it on the back of the chair, folded. She raised an eyebrow at that but did not say anything.
When he began to sing, she leaned back in the chair she was in and watched him, checking his posture, ability to hold his note, how well he could breathe evenly while singing, absolutely silent when he sucked in a breath before starting the next part of the song. Outside, people crowded around the doorway; when they pried it open an inch, the teacher noticed that they were stacking heads one on top of the other to see him. Paul did not seem to be affected by any of this, his eyes closed from the emotion of the song, completely buried in it.
I am addicted to singing. I can never do anything without this, he thought, smiling to himself.
When he finished this one, applause erupted from the door until the teacher stood up and came to him.
“Very beautiful song,” she said, smiling at him. “But don’t close your eyes every time you sing, all right? Otherwise, that was amazing. Now, the last part of the assignment: I want you to read this sheet music and sing it how you read it, understood?”
Paul nodded and then his jaw dropped at the song. After a few moments he glanced back at the teacher, not sure he had read correctly, but she nodded, unfazed. Coughing, he looked at the sheet again, reading the notes and began to sing “Danny Boy.”
This time, after he finished, there was absolute silence as the kids waited for the verdict—was he in or out?
The teacher stood there, watching him, the suspense building until one of the kids broke it with, “Oh com’on, you have to let him join with that voice of his!” She smiled at him and nodded; immediately, wild cheers exploded from the mass of students gathered and they rushed in, the guys slapping Paul on the back and the girls crowded around him, congratulating him.
“Sing something else!” called out someone, and the whole group took up the chant, “Sing! Sing! Sing!”
The teacher led him out into the auditorium and ushered him onstage.
“That was part of the deal,” she said, laughing as the students cheered and stood near the stage to listen. Standing there looking out at them, Paul realized just how much he missed singing, especially to an audience. Sighing, he nodded in agreement.
“Why don’t you sing something else?” suggested the teacher. “Most of us had heard you singing yesterday, so why don’t you sing something that we haven’t heard yet.”
Paul played through the massive playlist in his head, finally coming down to the ones he had considered before. Yes, they were technically from CT, but they were some of his favorite ones.
First was “Because we Believe,” and there was a stunned silence as they listened to his opera training kick in full gear. Following that, he switched into “You Raise Me Up,” and he saw some students murmur along if they knew the words. Finishing that one, breathing deeply from the magnificent ending, he looked over to the teacher as the students burst into applause, asking for another one, but the teacher came over and saved him.
“That’s enough for now—he needs to save some for the winter show,” she said, laughing.
When they were in the classroom again, she turned him around and looked him straight in the eye.
“You be careful with that voice, you hear? It is probably the clearest tenor I have ever heard, and I am going to invite a few scouts to the winter show to listen to you sing. With that voice, it would be a terrible waste to keep quiet about it.”
Paul nodded and walked back into the air outside as he thought about what she had said. It seemed that, no matter where or when he was, his gift would lead him to a possibility of fame.
* * *
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Post by celticbear on Dec 4, 2010 20:28:41 GMT -5
ORI! DON'T CHANGE A THING! PAUL WAS IN HIS TRUE ELEMENT! YOU CAN TAKE PAUL OUT OF CT,BUT YOU CAN'T TAKE THE CT OUT OF PAUL BYROM! AND YES I'M BEING HONEST! SO GET WITH IT AND UPDATE SOON!
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Post by aliblast on Dec 4, 2010 23:22:34 GMT -5
I agree!!!! That was awesome!!!!!! I love how Paul keeps drawing off CT. keep it up
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Post by orinocoflow on Dec 4, 2010 23:32:35 GMT -5
ok, good to know i was worried that he was coming back to CT way too much.
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Post by orinocoflow on Dec 5, 2010 21:25:23 GMT -5
hey all readers,
I wont be posting any new updates until after christmas because i have literally no time to write them, so bear with me!
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Post by orinocoflow on Dec 12, 2010 15:41:58 GMT -5
this is based off of our homecoming rally this year. i have another update for the dance in the evening, but im posting that after the readers catch up on this update since its long. hope you like it! Paul walked into the Quad just as someone on the loudspeaker said, “Welcome Homeland, to Homecoming Week! Today, our marching band will be giving a performance. Freshmen, there is hot chocolate for you in the Student Center—all you need to do is present your student ID and you can get a cup.”
The band started playing some songs that Paul had heard around campus but did not know the name of, then the school song, the drums having a long three-minute solo half-way through, and then the horns set in. Just as the bell rang for third period, they turned and ran down the steps from the Senior Stage, around the Quad, and chased after horrified freshmen, playing the whole time. Grinning, Paul followed to class, wishing he knew how to play an instrument.
The next day, there was another performance by the band in the Quad, and then the seniors dragged out a boom box and turned on the radio, screaming and gathering around to dance when the current favorite song came on.
That whole week, there was one thing or another, with classes dressing in different themes each day, competitions going on at Brunch and Lunch, music blaring from the loudspeakers. On Friday, however, Paul found about the Homecoming dance later that evening. Buying a ticket before they shot up in price, he went to find Shay.
“Hey,” he said as he walked up to her in the hallways of the language building. She turned to him and smiled in recognition.
“Hey yourself. What’s up? You look very enthusiastic about something,” she teased.
Paul grinned and nodded. “You going to the dance this evening?”
Shay’s face fell and she looked away. “No, I don’t like the school dances. Are you?”
Paul nodded again, the grin replaced by a confused expression. “Why not?”
Shay shrugged nonchalantly. “Too many people, and you can't really dance to the modern music. All you really do is jump around with another couple hundred sweaty students in the Quad. Or, actually, in the large gym, since this is Homecoming. It’s not that fun. Are you okay?” she asked, seeing his face.
He looked absolutely gloomy, his spirits sinking. “I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me,” he mumbled sadly.
“Oh…” she seemed uncomfortable, not sure what to say. “Well, I guess…I guess I can come this time. It is Homecoming, after all, and this is our last year here.”
Paul glanced back up at her, eyes sparkling with hope. “Can you please?”
Shay smiled at him. “Sure. Now, let’s go to the rally—it’s in the large gym right now. Leave your bag in the classroom—they don’t let you take them with you.”
Happy, Paul dropped his bag off in his next class and caught up with her as they made their way to the rally…whatever that was.
The rally was anything except what he had expected. He was about to go in when Shay grabbed him by the shirt and tugged him back, shaking her head.
“Seniors come in at the end,” she explained. “Oh, and you will need some sort of costume.”
Paul frowned. “Why?”
Shay stopped what she was doing and stared at him. “Have you ever even been to a rally? Or Homecoming? Anything?” she asked when he shook his head uncertainly. Sighing, she looked at his shirt, trying to figure out what to do…
Grabbing a cowboy hat from another senior running by who did not even stop, having not felt it disappearing, she put it on him, unbuttoned his plaid shirt and pulled it from his jeans so that his white undershirt was showing, took his red handkerchief out of his pocket and tied it around his neck so that the end result was a rugged cowboy. Fortunately, he had worn boots that day since it had rained, adding to the effect. Giving him a criticizing look, she took off his borrowed hat, rumpled him meticulously-spiked hair so that it was ruffled and soft again, falling onto his forehead, and replaced the hat. Taking a step back to inspect it, she smiled when she saw the astonished expression on his face.
“What?” she asked, laughing when he continued to stare at her. Blinking, he shook his head to clear it.
“No, nothing…” he murmured, tugging the hat lower over his eyebrows. Then, snapping out of the trance he was in, he assumed a swanky pose and flicked his hat back, thumbs hooked in belt loops. “How do-a look?” he drawled, using what he knew from Ryan. Laughing, Shay nodded and turned him around.
“Almost, hold on a little.”
Paul’s eyebrows shot up when he saw the costumes other students had on—there were four Ghostbusters chasing down a ghost in a white sheet; a full cast from the final game from the movie Dodgeball, complete with dodgeballs, colors, and sweatbands; several gorillas of…black, hot pink, yellow, and neon orange fur colors…okay…; a group of football players came out in their jerseys, Ron and his gang among them; a few—Paul’s eyebrows flew up even more when he saw some unrepeatable costumes run out there, and then the deans zeroed in on those kids and pulled them outside; and several more costumes. Finally, when he felt Shay nudge him out, he turned to look at her, but she was already swallowed up by the group.
Running through the gym, Paul laughed as some seniors dressed as Indians gave chased and he beat them effortlessly, leaping over a pile of football players and into the fifth row of the stands, jogging up to the top so that he could see everything. The Ghostbusters had tackled the poor ghost to the ground, revealing a laughing girl under the sheet. The dodgeball game was underway, and the Average Joe’s won, of course.
A tall guy, well over six feet with long, straight, streaky blond hair and a strip of cloth tied around his head walked into the middle of the gym with a microphone in hand, dressed in green from head to toe. The theme had been “jungle,” so he was probably a tree.
“Good morning, everyone!” he boomed; Paul knew that the mic only did so much—he had heard the guy around campus, and he had one loud voice!
“Welcome to our annual Homecoming Rally of 2010!” he said, turning about in a circle to see all of the students gathered, the stands overflowing onto the basketball courts. “Let’s hear it from our Juniors!” he yelled, running along the stands to create a wave as ear-splitting cheers rang out. Paul felt his ears twitch as the sound was deafening, and it did not help when the sophomores yelled; the freshmen were a treat, since they were actually pretty quiet, awed by all of the decorations in the gym. But then the announcer paused, and said, “And now, let’s hear it, from the Class of 2011!” the sound was so loud, Paul raised a hand to his ears as they vibrated.
But the guy was shaking his head and turning to the other announcer, a girl. “I don’t know…let’s try again, Juniors!...Soph!...Frosh!...and…the mighty Seniors!” And this time, Paul joined in the cheering, his strong voice booming above the others’, but drowned out as this time, he completely lost hearing in his left ear and his right sounded like he was hearing through water. Groaning, he rubbed them, trying to ease the weird feeling.
“Let’s welcome our Dance team…The Equestriettes!”
Paul looked up as a group of about twenty or so girls ran out in…dear Lord, those are some VERY short shorts! And tight white t-shirts with “Homeland” printed across the back…wow…they actually were willing to wear that?
They danced in unison to some modern song, and then broke off into a symmetrical wave-like movement, twirling. Paul found himself watching a girl in the front who was the best out of all of them, dancing clearly; a few minutes later, the lights suddenly dimmed, and then, from a spark of bright white light, a tall guy, not quite as tall as the announcer but close, in a black leather jacket, white t-shirt, black jeans, and black leather Converse jumped out with a microphone in his hand as the music changed to heavy rap. He began to sing, his deep voice rapping out the text quickly and actually quite well; despite himself, Paul found that he was nodding along, the beat catchy. Out of all the rap music he had heard since coming to Homeland, this was the best by far.
As the music ended, the announcer ran over and raised his hand to the rapper. “Let’s hear it for JD the DJ, one of our seniors, singing,” Paul tuned out the name of the song, “from his album,” Paul was surprised when he heard the album’s name, since he had seen it a lot in stores.
This guy is famous? He was surprised, watching as JD thanked him and walked off to where the seniors stood.
Next, the marching band played while two lines of a different group of dancers came out with long performing flags, whatever they were called, some silver, some gold, and began to twirl and flash them around expertly to the music, not dropping them even when they threw them into the air, turning several times.
After they left, there were a few games and competitions, with either the juniors or seniors winning, and then they were excused. As they filed out the doors, Paul saw the girl that he had been looking at from the dance team watching him, and she smiled when he caught her gaze, raising a hand at him. Forcing an awkward smile, he returned the gesture before making his way outside.
Way too much make-up, really short shorts, tight shirt…yeah, not my type, he thought, grimacing.
“So, what did you think?” came a familiar voice from behind. Turning Paul smiled at Shay but his smile froze when he saw her costume.
She was wearing…oh, how to describe it? He really could find no way to, except that she was beautiful, and…yeah, that was it. Beautiful. She blushed under his stare, smoothing her hands over her shirt, which was skillfully wrapped around her body, not too tight but just enough for him to see that she had some very good genes in her, something that he could not tell with the jackets and loose shirts she usually wore.
“Paul, stop staring,” she mumbled, her cheeks red. Catching himself, Paul blinked and smiled at her for the third time in only 30 minutes. He stepped forward and put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her up against his side awkwardly, feeling her tension in the way she warily put her hand on his waist, half holding him close and half pushing him away.
“Sorry. It was great!” he said quickly, his eyes lighting up as he remembered everything. And just like that, the tension was broken and they talked easily, walking to their next class together.
* * *
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Post by orinocoflow on Dec 12, 2010 22:07:15 GMT -5
bump? guys, i updated this!
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mandy4525
Newbie
Long may the Thunder roll. Just like the Energizer Bunny! =D
Posts: 37
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Post by mandy4525 on Dec 12, 2010 22:13:25 GMT -5
ori that was really good! I wish the pep rallys at my high school were like that!
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Post by orinocoflow on Dec 12, 2010 22:31:33 GMT -5
this is only HALF of what we had! lol I tried to remember more, but its been a few months and we've had two more rallies since.
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Post by celticbear on Dec 13, 2010 0:30:31 GMT -5
Ori! Great Update! Man I wish my own Highshool Rallies where like this! Can't wait to find out what happens at the dance! UPDATE SOON! PLEASE!
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Post by orinocoflow on Dec 13, 2010 10:17:49 GMT -5
thanks CB! alright, i was a little nervous writing this one. is it ok? rating-wise, i mean. you'll see what i mean towards the end... That night, Paul spied Shay standing at the corner of the gym, waiting for him. Cursing his broken alarm clock, he ran over, smoothing his hair back as it fell forward since the gel had not worked, given the rain.
“Sorry I made you wait,” he said sheepishly, coming closer. Shay nodded and smiled at him, but then returned to watching the gym door cautiously, from which wild music pumped.
“Com’on, it’ll be fine,” Paul assured her, excited. He had always liked dancing in clubs, and from what he had learned from Marc, this was no exception. If there weren’t any deans around, the students danced however they wanted.
The first 15 minutes were spent dragging Shay onto the dance floor; the next 15 they danced on the sidelines, where the teachers patrolled with flashlights in the pitch black, but Paul was getting bored, wanting to get into the middle. Then, he grabbed her hand and shouldered aside freshmen and sophomores, getting into the middle easily while trying not to trample wide-eyed freshmen who stared at him from at least half a foot below him, if not more.
The next hour he spent enjoying himself in the cluster of students and sure enough, it was just as Shay had said it would be—hundreds of shoving, sweaty students all crammed together and wanting to be in the coveted center spot. Shay finally eased up and surprised him with how well she could dance, but she made a point of sticking close to him; not that he was complaining, of course. So far, all of the songs had been fast, and after so long without any breaks, Paul was getting tired, sweat rolling down his face and soaking his collared plaid shirt—another one, not the same one as the morning cowboy one, and his feet were protesting, but he ignored them as much as he could.
Suddenly, the music turned into a slow song, and the DJ said, “Alright, boys, now is your chance to dance with that girl you have wanted to all year. If you don’t have someone to dance with, clear the floor.” As Shay made a move to escape, her face red, Paul grabbed her hand and tugged her back, putting his arms around her waist. She looked up at him in surprise, glanced around, but then slowly slid her hands up onto his shoulders, standing closer to him than ever before.
As the song continued, Paul gradually pulled her in closer still, until he could rest his chin on her head, her hair soft and tickling his jaw. There was a moment of uncertainty, but then she lay her head on his shoulder, moving her hand so that it was on the back of his shoulder, curling around it. Closing his eyes, Paul swayed with her gently to the slow music, unaware of the several pairs of eyes on them.
All too soon, “Right Round” pounded out of the loudspeakers and everyone rushed back in, breaking the moment. Opening his eyes, Paul moved Shay as the crowd ran into them, jostling them in their hurry to get back in the middle. Holding her close, he pushed his way out, this time not caring that freshmen leaped out of his way when they saw his tall form coming at them.
Finally breaking outside through the doors, Paul caught a deep breath of fresh, cold air before leaning on the wall. Shay stood beside him, mirroring his moves, her eyes closed as she rested her head on the cool wall. Turning to her, Paul took a step closer so that they were shoulder to shoulder. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, her cheeks red. From dancing? Or from the dance?
“Thank you,” she whispered, smiling up at him. Smiling back, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
“You’re welcome.” But when his lips touched her forehead, he paused, lingering. After a breath, she placed her left hand on his arm, holding it there, and then he felt a feather-light pressure under her touch as she hesitated mid-pull, leaning back away from him, but he caught her by both arms and looked into her eyes.
And the two of them leaned forward, inches away from each other, ignorant to the rest of the world.
The kiss was light and gentle, but before they could do anything else, someone cleared their throat. They looked up in surprise, and both turned bright red when they saw one of the deans looking at them. Nodding quickly, they rushed back inside.
The rest of the dance was all fast songs, and then the DJ spoke again. “We have time for one more slow song, so go find that special one again and have at it!”
They sure have a way with words, thought Paul to himself. Shay had stepped out for a drink, insisting that he stay there since it had been his favorite song, so he lingered outside the group and waited for her. When there was a tap on his shoulder, he turned with a smile, expecting Shay, but it quickly faded when he saw the girl from the dance team looking up at him.
She was still dressed pretty much the same as before, except this looked like what she actually wore in life—short skirt, super-tight shirt with a plunging neckline and open stomach, and painfully high heels. How she could stand being like that, he had no idea. Smiling weakly, he nodded and tried to step away, but she clutched his arm.
“So, did you like the rally?” she asked, stepping even closer to him. He opened his mouth to protest, but she continued, laughing, a piercing, creepy laugh, not at all like Shay’s beautiful, smooth voice. “It took so long to learn, but I think that it is the best we have ever had. Really let’s us show them all the moves that we know,” she added, displaying all hundred of her strikingly white teeth. She began to pull him to the floor, her hands gripping his arm. Paul tried protesting, but then another pair of hands grabbed his other arm and pulled him into the mass—Ron’s. His eyes widening, he tried to struggle, but Ron held him in place while the girl put her hands on his shoulders, still talking as she moved to the music, running her hands through his hair.
“You should spike this up, not let it fall into your face,” she said, pushing it back from his forehead.
Over her shoulder, Paul saw Shay hurrying out of the gym, tugging on her jacket as she went.
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Post by celticbear on Dec 13, 2010 23:06:16 GMT -5
Ori! If I was there I would have so Killed that Girl and Ron! PAUL BELONGS WITH SHAY! SO YOU BETTER FIX THIS IN THE NEXT UPDATE! Other than that, Great Update!
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Post by orinocoflow on Dec 13, 2010 23:45:00 GMT -5
lol, I'll see what I can do glad you like it! but is anyone else reading this?
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