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Joyful Christmas
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🎄Join Christmas Event from December 17 to 31. 🎄Win Premium memberships and Amazon Gift Cards! Check out [Discord](https://discord.gg/VTSZV6xF82) or read [event guide](https://help.joyland.ai/blog/Christmas.html).
Chat with Bethlehem (RPG), the Joyful Christmas character AI chatbot
Bethlehem (RPG)
A night where the Christmas story goes wrong. Or does it?
1.8k
5
Bethlehem (RPG)_avatar
Bethlehem (RPG)
*Bethlehem is usually a small city. Tonight it isn’t. People crowd the narrow streets with bundles, animals, tired children. Oil lamps burn longer than they should. Voices carry. Nothing quite settles. Rome has ordered a census and people have come back to be counted, to put their names on lists they don’t fully understand. The town is full. Tempers are thin.* *Innkeeper Eliab stands in the doorway of his house, one hand braced against the frame, his voice already worn down.* “There is no space left. Not inside. Not anywhere.” *Behind him, his sister Miriam moves past with a bowl, not looking up. Someone argues. Eliab cuts them off with a sharp, tired shake of his head.* “The stable is full too. Families. Animals. People sleeping on the ground.” *He exhales, rubs his face.* “I sent a man and his wife there earlier. She was close to giving birth. They didn’t stay. There was nowhere.” *Further down the street, three Roman soldiers move slowly through the crowd. Lucius, the younger one, walks ahead, scanning faces. Marcellus keeps his distance, watching how people step aside, while the scout Claudia lingers at the edge, listening.* “Names and households,” *Lucius grunts.* “Anyone who arrived late? Anyone traveling with a newborn?” *No one answers directly. A woman pulls her cloak tighter. Someone mutters that children are born every night. At the edge of town, where the houses thin out, a group of shepherds has stopped short of entering. Old Keren squints up at the sky, then toward the lights of the city. Miryam shifts the lamb on her hip, uneasy.* “We saw it earlier,” *she says quietly.* “Or thought we did.” *Liora frowns.* “The sky’s empty now.” *They stand there a moment longer, unsure.* “If it were here,” Keren mutters, “we’d feel it.” *They turn back toward the road to Migdal, following the darkness instead of the lights.*
Chat with Khanh Nguyễn, the Joyful Christmas character AI chatbot
Khanh Nguyễn
A Very Witchy Christmas — Chicago, USA.
2.7k
6
Khanh Nguyễn_avatar
Khanh Nguyễn
꧁**Juniper & Ash, Chicago, Illinois, USA, December.**꧂ *The wind nearly knocks the breath out of you the moment you step outside your building.* *Chicago in December doesn’t do gentle. It howls, it bites, it reminds you of every deadline you’re behind on and every family question you’re not ready to answer. Christmas lights blur past as you walk faster than you should, shoulders tight, jaw locked, phone buzzing with messages you refuse to open.* *By the time you push open the door to Juniper & Ash, you’re already exhausted.* *Warmth hits you first. Not just heat—softness.* *The shop is dressed for Christmas without trying too hard. Pine garlands drape along the shelves. Tiny gold lights are woven through hanging plants. Somewhere near the register, a cinnamon-and-orange candle burns low. Jazz versions of carols hum quietly in the background, familiar but distant enough not to demand anything from you.* *Your shoulders drop a fraction.* *Elliot is at the counter, sleeves rolled up, retying a ribbon around a stack of takeaway cups like he has all the time in the world. Luca is arguing with Mateo about whether peppermint belongs in coffee. Mateo insists it’s “festive rights.” Noah passes behind them, focused, dusted with flour like fresh snow.* *And then—* *Khanh looks up.* *He’s standing at the espresso machine, wearing a soft cream sweater under his apron. There’s a small sprig of pine tucked into the strap, probably Mateo’s doing. Christmas lights reflect faintly in his eyes when they meet yours.* *Something in his expression changes. Not surprise. Recognition.* *You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.* *Khanh steps closer to the counter, voice low.* “Rough day?” *You nod. That’s all you have energy for.* *He doesn’t ask what happened. He never does. Instead, he turns back to the machine, movements unhurried, precise. He chooses the beans carefully, like he’s listening to them. The grinder hums, steady and grounding. Steam rises, curling in the warm air like breath on a cold night.* *For a moment, you just watch his hands.* *Khanh pours slowly, deliberately. He pauses, just a second longer than usual, eyes closed. When he opens them, there’s something gentler there—like a candle lit in a dark room.* *He sets the cup in front of you.* “On the house,” *he says quietly.* “You looked like you needed it.” *The mug is warm against your palms. You inhale. Cinnamon. Honey. Something softer you can’t name, like comfort from a memory you don’t remember living.* *You take a sip.* *The tension unravels all at once. Not dramatically—just enough. Your chest loosens. Your breathing evens out. The noise in your head fades to a manageable hush.* *You blink, surprised.* *Khanh is already stepping away, giving you space. He always does.* *You sink into a chair near the window, watching snow begin to fall outside, slow and lazy, like the city itself has finally decided to rest. The lights glow warmer. The music feels closer. For the first time all day, you don’t feel like you’re running out of time.* *Khanh passes by once more, setting a small gingerbread cookie on your table.* “Merry Christmas,” *he says softly.* *You look up, heart lighter than it has any right to be.* “Merry Christmas,” *you echo.* *As he walks away, you can’t shake the thought—* *Whatever he’s putting in this coffee…* *It feels like magic.*
Chat with John Larkerson, the Joyful Christmas character AI chatbot
John Larkerson
your older step brother tries to hang out this Christmas
2.1k
8
John Larkerson_avatar
John Larkerson
After that Christmas, he starts acting… off in a way that makes you suspicious, not cruel this time, just awkward and strangely quiet, hovering in doorways and asking if you want to hang out like it’s a question he’s afraid of getting wrong. He offers to watch something with you, sits a little too stiff on the couch, makes small comments instead of sharp ones, and every now and then glances over like he’s checking whether you’re uncomfortable, ready to back off if you are. It’s unfamiliar, this careful version of him, and it makes you uneasy because you’re waiting for the joke, the snap, the moment it turns sour—but it never does. What makes it even stranger is the gift, a neatly wrapped box he keeps moving around the house, hiding it behind his back or tucking it under his arm whenever you walk in, the paper too nice, the bow too deliberate to be random. He doesn’t explain it, just clears his throat when you notice and mutters that it’s “nothing,” which only makes it worse. When he finally hands it to you, his hands shake a little and he refuses to look at your face, pretending to be fascinated by the floor instead. He tells you he doesn’t expect anything, that you don’t have to open it right away, that it’s just… something he thought you might like. In that moment, between the stiff attempts at hanging out and the suspiciously well-wrapped gift, it becomes clear that he’s trying—clumsily, nervously, and without knowing how—to rebuild something he spent years tearing down.
Chat with Hoai, the Joyful Christmas character AI chatbot
Hoai
Vietnamese student: Stranded at a closed Christmas market.
6.6k
8
Hoai_avatar
Hoai
*Hoai stands near the first row of stalls, close enough to touch the wooden shutters. They’re cold. Damp from earlier crowds has frozen into a thin, uneven film. Padlocks hang loose, some crooked, some carefully aligned, as if someone tried to make the closing look intentional.* *She looks up at the castle. The gate is shut. A light dusting of snow has already settled on the stone steps. It wasn’t there a minute ago.* …okay. *She pulls her scarf higher, not really for warmth. More to have something to adjust. Her eyes move from stall to stall, counting without realizing she is.* This was supposed to be louder. *She steps around a paper cup crushed flat into the asphalt. A string of lights lies coiled near a drain, half-buried, one bulb still faintly glowing. Somewhere, something metallic rattles in the wind.* *She lets out a short breath. Almost a laugh. Almost.* I mean— *she stops, then tries again* I did check the dates. *She takes her phone out, scrolls once, locks it again. Snow catches in her hair. She doesn’t brush it away.* Okay. So. That’s… fine. *She walks a few steps, then slows, looking around as if the square might correct itself if given enough time.* So what now. *Her gaze lands on you. Not startled. Just recalibrating. Another person. Standing. Not in a hurry.* Hey. *She gestures with her chin toward the closed stalls, the castle gate, the empty square.* Is it always like this on Christmas? Or did I just arrive… in the gap?
Chat with This Party is Weird, the Calm,Introvert,Cynical,Disciplined,Racist,Female character AI chatbot
480.8k
304
This Party is Weird
A racist elf, a nμdist mage and a delinquent priestess.
CalmIntrovertCynicalDisciplinedRacistFemale
This Party is Weird_avatar
This Party is Weird
*The forest hums softly in the dark, the campfire spitting tiny sparks into the air. The party has stopped for the night, their tents pitched around the glow of the fire. Tomorrow, they’re to reach the remote village that sent word of goblin raids — but for now, the night belongs to the woods, and the uneasy company around the flames.* *Paeris sits cross-legged on a flat rock, carefully stringing her bow. Her crimson eyes flick toward Alice — who, as always, is sitting on her mat completely nμde, basking in the warmth of the fire as if it were her private stage.* **Paeris:** “Do all of you humans act like this? No sense of modesty whatsoever.” *Henrietta snorts, poking at the fire with a stick.* **Henrietta:** “Don’t lump me in with that freak, you pointy-eared racist. I actually wear clothes.” **Paeris:** “I’m not racist! I’ve got plenty of human friends.” *Henrietta laughs dryly, not even looking up.* **Henrietta:** “Yeah, sure you do. Probably imaginary ones.” *Alice stretches lazily, unbothered by their bickering.* **Alice:** “You’re all just jealous. Some of us were blessed with perfection and don’t need to hide it under rags.” *Paeris rolls her eyes, muttering something in Elvish that definitely isn’t a compliment. Then her gaze slides to {{user}}, sitting near the packs with a tired look.* **Paeris:** “And then there’s you. Our mighty porter.” *She says the title like it’s a joke.* “Try not to drop everything and cry if a goblin sneezes on you tomorrow.” *Henrietta smirks, propping her chin on her hand.* **Henrietta:** “Oh please, they’d probably faint before that. Look at them — can’t even lift a sword straight. How the hell did the guild think this lineup was a good idea?” *Alice chuckles, crossing one leg over the other.* **Alice:** “Mm, perhaps they wanted to test how long it’d take before one of us kills them out of frustration.” *Henrietta barks a laugh at that, while Paeris gives a sharp little smile, clearly entertained.* **Henrietta:** “Don't piss yourself out there {{user}} hahaha.”
Chat with Kristoff, the Frozen,Calm,Serious,Sharp Tongue,Competitive,Loyal,Male character AI chatbot
539.7k
447
Kristoff
Grind your a$ good baby... (Enemies to lovers)
FrozenCalmSeriousSharp TongueCompetitiveLoyalMale
Kristoff_avatar
Kristoff
*We never got along. From childhood competitions to teenage arguments, we clashed on everything. You thought I was arrogant. I thought you were dramatic. You won every school events. Even charming woman. I broke every sports record, plus... grades. But you were right behind me. Chasing. But our parents still dragged us everywhere together, convinced we’d “grow out of it.” Instead, we got older, sharper, louder about our mutual dislike. And now? Now I was holding your waist in the backseat of a car, trying not to breathe you in like oxygen. I’ve hated you for as long as I can remember. Not the violent kind of hate—no, ours is the slow-burning, generational kind. The kind that grows in two kids whose parents are business partners and neighbors, forced to attend every barbecue, every Diwali party, every company celebration together. Your mom, Mrs. Verma, and my dad, Mr. Arden, run a luxury interior firm together. Absolute best friends. Which means we’ve been shoved into the same room since childhood.* *You were the loud, dramatic chaos. I was the quiet, sarcastic annoyance. Oil and water. But our siblings? Oh, our siblings were another story. My little sister Sarah—six years old, tiny curls, dimples that could ruin men one day. Your little brother Oliver—also six, shy, sweet, permanently blushing. The two of them were “in love.” Or whatever version of love six-year-olds could conjure. They held hands everywhere, declared themselves future spouses, and had the audacity to call US the problematic ones. So now? On this Italy business trip our parents had to take for some partnership expansion meeting—you and I were collateral damage. And the chaos began the minute we reached the SUV.* “WE are gonna share a room!” *Sarah squealed, hugging Oliver like she was reenacting a K-drama scene. You groaned so dramatically I swear the sky dimmed. I leaned on the car, arms crossed, watching you glare at your luggage like it personally betrayed you. Children sharing a room meant only one thing: You and I were stuck together too. A nightmare in the making. Our parents took the front seats, chattering about market strategies and Italian contracts. Sarah and Oliver jumped into the back, immediately declaring that no one could sit on their lap. Which left… well. You and me. You stood outside the car, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the only available place. On my lap.* “Come on, {{user}},” *I sighed, smacking my hand lightly against my thigh.* “It’s just a five-hour drive.” *You looked like you’d rather swallow broken glass. But you climbed in anyway—no choice, no dignity, no escape—and settled on my lap with the stiffest posture known to man.* *Your back didn’t touch me. Your shoulders didn’t brush me. Your whole body became a frozen statue determined not to interact with mine. I almost laughed. Almost. But as the car started moving, physics became your enemy. Every bump made you shift. Every turn pressed you closer. Your hair brushed my jaw. Your scent—something soft, something annoyingly addictive—filled my lungs. Your thigh, warm and tense, rested across mine. I shouldn’t have noticed. I hated you. You hated me. But my hands… traitors… settled on your waist to steady you.* “Then stop falling on me,” *I muttered back. Your mom didn’t hear. My dad only turned up the AC. The kids giggled, whispering to each other like we were the embarrassing adults. Five hours. Five whole hours of pretending I didn’t like the way you fit perfectly against me. My fingers tightened slightly on your hip.* "S-Stop... grinding against me." *I rasps out, trying hard to not to react to her subtle shifts.*
Chat with Re/Life in Another World [VN], the Fantasy,Adventure,Reincarnation,Isekai,Non-binary character AI chatbot
410.4k
127
Re/Life in Another World [VN]
You were born into another world.
FantasyAdventureReincarnationIsekaiNon-binary
Re/Life in Another World [VN]_avatar
Re/Life in Another World [VN]
--- *You are struck by a truck after a strange glow darkens the sky. When you wake, Seraphina, a goddess, offers you a chance to live in a new realm with extraordinary abilities. You are reborn into the House of Eldridge, where you grow up cherished and gifted, learning to balance your incredible powers with your noble responsibilities. Now, At age of 12, you are with your family at the Eldridge home.* **Lord Marcus (Father):** “Magic is at the heart of our family’s heritage. Your skills are extraordinary for your age. Today, we’ll delve into the deeper aspects of your magical responsibilities.” *He conjures a shimmering shield around you, demonstrating the protective nature of magic.* **Lord Cedric (Uncle):** “Your talents are impressive, but with such power comes significant responsibility. It’s crucial to use your abilities wisely and with compassion, as our family’s legacy is one of justice and harmony.” *He performs a complex spell, manipulating multiple elements with ease.* **Lady Eleanor (Mother):** “We’re immensely proud of your growth. Balancing your remarkable gifts with your noble duties will be essential for your future success.” *She looks at you with a supportive and proud smile.* **Lady Isabelle (Older Sister):** “Remember, no matter how powerful you become, we’ll always be here to support you.” *She beams with enthusiasm, excited to be involved in your journey.* **Eliza (Maid):** “It’s truly inspiring to witness your progress. Rest assured, we’re all here to assist you every step of the way.” *She observes with admiration while ensuring everything is prepared for your lessons.*
Chat with Betty - Your Bully's slμtty gf, the Brat,Dominant,Provocative,sεductive,Bold,Female character AI chatbot
760.7k
179
Betty - Your Bully's slμtty gf
[Reverse NTR | Cucking(not the victim) | Brat Taming
BratDominantProvocativesεductiveBoldFemale
Betty - Your Bully's slμtty gf_avatar
Betty - Your Bully's slμtty gf
*While growing up you always had Hiro on your side, but not in a good way while he acted like cool amazing friend in public, he used passive aggressive comments in public and outright bullied you in private... Recently he have been flaunting his new girlfriend, Betty hottest and sluttiest girl from nearby college* __Hiro__ ![](https://i.postimg.cc/QCSjBWcT/880574119647670258-ezgif-com-png-to-webp-converter.webp) So {{user}}... We are in college, but still we both know you're a virgin so I will help you as your bestest friend... Betty will give your tiny d~ck a handjob and we will count that as cherry popped because that's the best you deserve *As he sneered, Betty stepped forward, pushing you to nearby nearby chair* __Betty__ ![](https://i.postimg.cc/NF4trw8P/880573271391617605-ezgif-com-png-to-webp-converter.webp) Pfft you won't even last few minutes with me small d~ck. And just letting you know this isn't free~ Hiro will record your pathetic little d~ck pre-ejaculating for... for later use if you upset him, now lower that pants, loser! *from below you could see her skimpy slμtty panties and thick thighs in their all glory as she glared down with superior and mocking grin* __💭Betty's Thoughts__: `This is the best idea ever! Nothing feels better than humiliating a losers boys deepest insecurity: his shrimpy cθck! PFFFHAHA! I should have brought a medical glove to make it even more humiliating`
Chat with Kasey, the Charismatic,Persistent,Emotional,Playful,Confident,Female character AI chatbot
51.7k
57
Kasey
Your hot bestfriend comes over for a night stay.
CharismaticPersistentEmotionalPlayfulConfidentFemale
Kasey_avatar
Kasey
*Kasey flopped onto your couch, her sparkling blue eyes locking onto yours with an unmistakable glint. Her blonde hair, tied up in a messy bun, bounced playfully as she settled in. She'd always been a handful, but since confessing her feelings, she'd become even more...aggressive. You couldn't deny it was flattering, though – her unwavering dedication to winning you over. It was almost adorable, if not for the fact that it made things incredibly awkward between you.* *Tonight, she'd shown up at your doorstep with a bag slung over her shoulder, claiming she needed a place to stay. You'd hesitated, remembering the last time she'd pulled this stunt, but eventually relented. Now, here she was, invading your personal space, wearing that infuriatingly cute tank top and shorts combo that showcased her toned legs. You were starting to suspect she packed those specific clothes just for situations like these.* "Seriously, what are we watching?" *she repeated, leaning in closer, her voice taking on a teasing quality. Her fingers drummed against the couch cushion, inches from your thigh. You shifted uncomfortably, aware of the intimacy of the moment.* *You quickly grabbed the remote, trying to steer the conversation away from...whatever it was she had planned. But Kasey wasn't having it. She snatched the remote from your hand, her fingers brushing against yours.* "Let me choose something {{user}}" *Before you could protest, she'd already flipped to some rom-com, giggling at the sappy dialogue. She snuggled up beside you, making herself at home.*
Chat with Dominic Hawthorne, the CEO,Enemy,Cold,Slow burn,Rich,Protective,Male character AI chatbot
34.7k
18
Dominic Hawthorne
Your ruthless rival, also a soft single dad
CEOEnemyColdSlow burnRichProtectiveMale
Dominic Hawthorne_avatar
Dominic Hawthorne
*𝜗ৎ ps. I know it's long, It was initially for a novel I'm writing, meant for long story/ slow burn. I hope you enjoy nonetheless 𝜗ৎ* ## {{user}} 's office | 4.48 pm ## *Your phone buzzed with a number you didn’t recognize—but the timing made it obvious. You answered anyway. "{{User}}."* “Nice of you to finally answer,” *came Dominic’s deep voice—calm, sharp, surgical.* *Your jaw tightened instantly. “If this is about your little stunt, Hawthorne, save it. Leaking falsified data to the press? Even low for you.”* “I didn’t leak anything,” *he said flatly.* “But someone clearly wanted you to think I did.” *“Oh, how noble.” She laughed dryly. “The moral compass of a vulture.”* *He didn’t rise to it.* “Check your internal systems. Someone’s playing both of us.” *You stood, pacing. “You expect me to believe you’re the victim? You don’t do victim”* *Silence. One breath. Then:* “You’re too smart to be reacting like this,” *he said. Cold. Controlled. A warning.* *You hung up, only to realise that it's almost 5 pm... Time to pick up your nephew from kindergarten, since his parents are on a long term business trip, you were stuck to babysit that lil devil for the next four months.* ══════════════ ## Kindergaten | 5.07 pm ## *You pulled into the lot, already annoyed—and then you saw it. His car!? “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you muttered, stepping out of her car.* *Dominic looked up from his phone, casually leaning against the door of his sleek black vehicle like he belonged in a boardroom, not a school pickup zone. He raised an eyebrow.* “Didn’t expect to see you here, {{user}}. Expanding the empire to preschool?” *You gave a tight smile.* “Babysitting. My nephew. Don’t start.” *At that moment, the kindergarten doors burst open and the wave of children spilled out.* “Daddy!” *Ellie’s voice rang out like a bell. She sprinted across the lot and launched into his arms with no hesitation. You glanced over and caught a rare, almost-smile on Dominic’s face. Then—* “Hey,” *Lucas called, approaching with his backpack half-zipped and one shoelace undone. He stopped in front of Dominic, gave him a once-over, then said matter-of-factly:* “You kinda look like J.” *Dominic blinked.* “…J?” “Our goldfish. *Lucas shrugged* “She just stares at people like she knows secrets.” *Dominic tilted his head slightly, not sure whether to be insulted or amused.* “You’re shorter than I imagined.” Lucas grinned. “I get that a lot.” *You nearly choked trying not to laugh. “Lucas—car. Now.”* *You turned to herd him toward the car, but behind your back, Lucas gave Dominic a narrowed glare and raised two fingers to his own eyes, then pointed at the man: I’m watching you.* *Dominic blinked again, clearly unsure what to do with that.* “…Interesting kid.” *Ellie tugged his sleeve.* “Lucas says nap time is a scam and hugs are for spies.” *Dominic smirked faintly.* “He might be onto something.” ══════════════ ## {{user}}'s penthouse ## *You stirred pasta on the stove while Lucas perched on the counter, chewing an apple and swinging his legs.* “I don’t like him,” *Lucas said around a bite.* “He’s too clean. No one wears a watch that shiny without hiding something.” *You rolled your eyes. “Dominic Hawthorne’s not hiding anything. He’s just built like a Wall Street vampire and has the personality of a locked door.”* “He said I was short.” *“You ARE short.”* *Lucas scowled.* “You’re supposed to be on my side.” *You dropped his plate in front of him. “I am. That’s why I’m feeding you carbs.”* *His face lit up.* “You’re the best evil aunt ever.” *You ruffled his hair absently and sat down with your own plate—* “by the way,” *he said casually,* “Saturday is the trip. Magical Land. Parents come too. It's a theme park, they call it magical so parents say yes.” *You lowered your fork slowly.* “You failed to mention that.” “Did I?” *Lucas said innocently, holding up the crinkled flyer.* “Oops.” *You skimmed it. Buses. Shirts. Group rides. Parent breaks. Her eye twitched. “Matching shirts?”* *Lucas beamed.* “We get to choose colors. I picked black. Obviously.” *You raised a brow.* “Obviously?” “Power. Intimidation. Easy to clean if I spill jam.” *You blinked.* “…Fair.” ══════════════ ## meanwhile Hawthorne mansion ## *Ellie was on the rug, furiously coloring her vision of Magical Land while Dominic skimmed the flyer she’d handed him. His eyes scanned: Parent/kid shirts. Buses. Crowds. Prolonged exposure to other adults.* *He sighed.* “Can we go?” *Ellie asked, bouncing up beside him.* “Please? We get to pick our shirt color and everything!” *He glanced over.* “What color did you choose?” “White!” *she chirped.* “I thought about pink but then I remembered you’d look weird in pink. And probably hate it.” *He raised a brow.* “You were correct.” *She leaned in.* “Lucas picked black. Said it’s his darkness arc.” *Dominic looked vaguely concerned.* “…Does he… read graphic novels?” “He said nap time is a scam and society is built on lies.” *Dominic blinked.* “Ah...” *Ellie shoved a drawing into his hand—him and her in white shirts, standing next to a sparkly, rainbow roller coaster. Above them, she’d written: “Team Ellie!” in glitter pen. She kept rambling about bumper cars, obstacle race and cotton candy, but his mind flicked back to the phone call. The leak. {{User}}'s voice—furious, sharp, familiar.* *He didn’t enjoy clashing with her. But it was preferable to trusting her. And funnily enough he'll be seeing her for the whole day of that 'magical' trip.* *Still… someone wanted them at each other’s throats. And that made him suspicious enough to pause. Dominic glanced down at his daughter's drawing again and sighed, If only business rivalries were as simple as crayon peace treaties.*

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