#𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝗒 ✿.

[s-telar]

𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗂𝖺, 优质的 | 𝖿𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖿𝗂𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 ���𝖾𝗅𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈, 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖻𝗈𝗍𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝖺𝗅𝗁𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗈𝗌.

𝗈⠀⠀⠀颤抖,⠀⠀⠀𝗉𝗈𝗋.⠀⠀⠀───⠀⠀⠀𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑒.

𝐟𝐨𝐦𝐞,ㅤㅤ𝖺𝗍𝗈ㅤㅤ𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗌.ㅤㅤᎥ.ㅤㅤ𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋.

𝖼𝗋𝗎𝖾𝗅.ㅤㅤ𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗑𝖺ㅤㅤ𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝖺,ㅤㅤ𝟢𝟥:𝟦𝟥.

tortured saint

that made his pain at the beginning of his hellish reign. his army of deniers across the heavens made him a legend, both among his peers and among mortals, who feared him.

⠀ 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗇 ⠀⠀( ⠀𝒙𝒖, 𝒊⠀ )⠀ ⠀ 𝗎𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽

𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌;ㅤㅤ𝗂́𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗈ㅤㅤ𝗈𝗋ㅤㅤ(...)ㅤㅤ𝟣𝟫𝟪𝟢.

𝖥𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇.ㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤ𝖠𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅.ㅤㅤ𝖲𝗂𝗑𝗍𝗁ㅤㅤ𝖧𝖾𝗅𝗅.

𝑚. ─── 𝖯𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖳𝖮𝖬𝖲 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖣𝖤𝖬𝖮𝖭𝖲. 𝟣𝟥𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖼𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋, 𝟣𝟫𝟪𝟫. ♡; 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇.

[espuor]

⠀

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ 𝟢𝟥𝟣𝟢⠀ ‹𝟹⠀ 𝟤 𝗆⠀ 𝗈𝖿 ⠀ ꒪⠀⠀❀⠀ 𝗆𝗎︦𝗌𝗂𝖼⠀ ꒱

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏

⠀ 🍋🪈🧂⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀🦢🔌☁️⠀ ⠀⠀♡　 ⠀🗞️🥛🐨

⠀ 🐄🍴🍙⠀ ⠀⠀♡　 ⠀🍎☘️🐜⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀🌸💡🧾

⠀ 🥜❕🚿⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀🧹🍶🪑⠀ ⠀⠀ ♡　 ⠀🖋️🎐🐚

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏

⠀ 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗃Ꭵ ⠀ 𝖼𝗈����𝖻𝗈 ⠀ 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 ⠀ 𝖻𝗒 ⠀﹫𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗎𝗈𐐲

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏

[v6que]

ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝑇𝖺𝗒𝗅𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝖿𝗍ㅤ✿ㅤ𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝗂𝗈𝗌 ­

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝘸𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀' 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅

ㅤ 𝖿𝗅𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆, 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝘱𝘰𝘤𝘬𝖾𝗍𝖿𝗎𝗅

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ—ㅤ 𝚂𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝙱𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁ㅤ���

ㅤㅤ𝘥𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝖾, 𝒍𝗈𝗏𝖾⠀𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝘤𝘳𝖺𝗓𝗒

ㅤㅤㅤ 𝖨𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝘢𝗂𝗇'𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇' 𝗋𝗂𝘨𝘩𝗍

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ(՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞)ㅤ𝙲𝖺𝗇 𝖨 𝗀𝘰 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝘰?

𝘤𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝘸𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝘴𝘦 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝘦𝘷𝖾𝗋 ?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ— ㅤํ ­ ­­ ­ ㅤ𝓛 ♡𝘷𝘦𝘳 ⠀ ㅤ ♩

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐈𝗍'𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝘦𝘭 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋ㅤ𓇼ㅤུ ᩧ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 '𝖾𝘮

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝗇𝗈 𝗋𝗎𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝘪𝘯 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝘷𝘦𝘯.

ㅤ

[drewsarms]

♱⃓: 𝗋𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

➜: 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄!𝗋𝖺𝖿𝖾, 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝗇𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝟣𝟪+ 𝗆𝖽𝗇𝗂

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗒. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. 𝖲𝗈, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖥𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗀𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆, “𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾…𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗌.” 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎. “𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍? 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇’𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎?” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. “𝖭𝗈. 𝖨’𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍.” 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈𝗍, 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖾𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆. 𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁. 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. “𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌.” 𝖧𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌, 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗉, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌. 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗐𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. “𝖰𝗎𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍, 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍? 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾. 𝖣𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇.”

𝖬𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁. “𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾. 𝖢’𝗆𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍.” 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗂𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋. “𝖨’𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀.” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾’𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽. 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝗎𝗉, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆. 𝖠𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗎𝖻 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆, 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗋.

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆. “𝖫𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗏 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝖾. 𝖨 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖨’𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗇𝗍. 𝖣𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽?” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗒. “𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝖨’𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎.” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝖼𝗄. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗒 𝖼𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋. “𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍? 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗂𝗌��𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎? 𝖶𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝗇𝖺𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝗎𝗁?” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗒 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗃𝗎𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗈𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗁𝗂𝖼 𝗆𝗈𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅’𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗁𝗂𝖼 𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾’𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉, 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗒, 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌. “𝖫𝖾𝗍’𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝖬𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀.”

𝖳𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍: @fae-of-prey @shawtycoreee @starkeyisthelastname @starkeysprincess @starkeysbebe @rafescokewhore @drewstarkeys-world @nemesyaaa @bunnyrafe @rafecameroninterlude @venic-bxtch

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͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏𝖡𝖮𝖱𝖭 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏(✬) ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏𝖠𝖦𝖠𝖨𝖭.

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏𝖡𝖮𝖱𝖭 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝆞 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝖠𝖦𝖠𝖨𝖭 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝖻𝗒 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝗅𝗂𝗌𝖺.͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏✬ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏· ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟧.

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝖾𝗀𝗈 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𝄞 ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗇 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇.

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗇 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏♡ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝖿𝗍. ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏𝗋𝖺𝗒𝖾 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏& ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝖽𝗈𝗃𝖺.

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏

͏͏" ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏𝒊𝒇 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗒𝗈𝗎 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 ͏͏ ͏ ͏𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 ͏͏ ͏ ͏𝖺 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 ͏͏ ͏ ͏𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌

͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𝒊 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 ͏͏ ͏ ͏'𝗏𝖾 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗒𝗈𝗎 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝖺 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋. ͏͏ ͏ ͏"

͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏

͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽'𝗏𝖾 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 ͏͏ ͏ ͏𝗒𝗈𝗎 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 ͏͏ ͏ ͏(𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾)

͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏☾. ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝗍𝗈 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𝖻𝖾 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏♡ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝆞 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗇 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇, ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒. ͏͏

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏

[ ͏͏ ͏ ͏𝐛𝐨𝐧 𝐨'𝐠𝐞𝐧 ͏͏ ͏ ͏] ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏──── ͏ ͏ ͏𝗍𝗁𝖾 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 ͏͏ ͏ ͏𝖺 ͏͏ ͏ ͏𝖭𝖾𝗐 𝖶𝗈𝗆𝖺�� ͏͏ ͏ ͏𝗐𝗁𝗈 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗁𝖾𝗋 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗈𝗆 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗍𝗈 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗌𝗁𝖾 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗌 ͏͏ ͏ ͏ 𝗍𝗈 ͏͏ ͏ ͏𝖻𝖾.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏

[lokiswhqre]

𝗱𝗮𝗿𝘆𝗹 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝖾𝗅𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗓𝗈𝗇. 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗅, 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗈𝗁 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒, 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆; 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈. 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾’𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽. 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗋𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆，𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗎𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗉 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗉𝗂𝗀𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗌, 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝖼𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄. 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 “𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗌..“ 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿𝖿. 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗒 𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗋. 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗋𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗋𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽, ���𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗆𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗇. 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝖿𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝖽 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾． 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝖽 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗂𝗍, 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌. “𝗆𝗆𝗆 𝗂 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎..” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗈𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗎𝗉, 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗒𝗅’𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝗍, 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍. “𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎－ 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾.” 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗇. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆．

[mafleur]

𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝗒 ＠𝗈𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗋.

[rexlroze]

ʜᴏʙɪᴇ ʙʀᴏᴡɴ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

𝑁𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

dividers by @saradika, @cafekitsune

∘₊✧───ೋღ Symbols ღೋ───✧₊∘

ᰔᩚ — Fluff

ꪉ — Hurt/Angst

☁︎ — Comfort

𖤐 — Dead dove

○ — Haitus // ◐ — On-Going // ● — Complete

ғᴀɴᴀʀᴛs

ೃ༄ ➳ 𝖯𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾! 𝖧𝗈𝖻𝗂𝖾, (𝟣), (𝟤)

ೃ༄ ➳ 𝖥𝖺𝖾! 𝖧𝗈𝖻𝗂𝖾

ೃ༄ ➳ 𝖢𝗈𝗐𝖻𝗈𝗒! 𝖧𝗈𝖻𝗂𝖾

ೃ༄ ➳ 𝖣𝗈𝖼 𝖮𝖼𝗄! 𝖧𝗈𝖻𝗂𝖾 & 𝖲𝖾𝗅𝖿-𝖨𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗍

sᴇʀɪᴇs

ೃ༄ ➳ 𝖠 𝖯𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 ○ (To be rewrote)

ᴏɴᴇ-sʜᴏᴛs

ೃ༄ ➳ 𝖳𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖤𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖤𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 ᰔᩚ

𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝗒 𝗆𝖾. 𝖨 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌🫶

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

@katkusuo sent me the idea for this. Here's the gist/her HC and how terribly far I strayed from it:

I just had the hc but forget 2 post it on hanma saying random stuff when high fucking and saying something like "She's completely mine now. Soaking everything in my sin and punishment." As he like fingers you brutally 😭

𝘈/𝘕 ::: 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴. 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘒𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘏𝘊 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘥. 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘕𝘰. 𝘐'𝘮𝘢 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵. 𝘐𝘵'𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦 - 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵! <3

𝘊/𝘞 ::: 𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘮𝘢 𝘹 𝘍.𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧: 𝘔->𝘍 𝘖𝘳𝘢𝘭, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘸 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘣. 𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘮𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘮𝘢. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮. 𝘠𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦.

𝘞𝘊 ::: 1749

MDNI UNDER THE CUT, PLEASE AND THANK YOU

█▓▒▒░░ DRIPPIN' WITH IT ░░▒▒▓█

𝖧𝖺𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖣𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 at his place 𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾.

𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖮𝗇𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗍 5:54 𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗃𝖺-𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽.

𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗉 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍-𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗇𝗀.

𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍: 𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅, 𝗌𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌. 𝖧𝖺𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝖾��𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗅𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗅𝗒. 𝖣𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 - 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 - 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗅𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗆𝗈𝖺𝗇 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾.

"𝖥𝗎𝖼𝗄, 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗇𝗈 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 '𝗆 '𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝖺. 𝖫𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇' 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌. 𝖦𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗇𝗍," he whispered to you.

𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗍. Pulling his pants down, he climbed onto the bed and reached out for your warm skin.

𝖯𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍, 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝖻𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖾𝗓𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝗎𝗆𝗉 𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖧𝖺𝗇𝗆𝖺. 𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌. 𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗍.

𝖶𝗁𝗒? 𝖡𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖺 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗑. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖧𝖺𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒'𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾.

𝖨𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 love to 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗍. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗇𝗈. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗂𝗌.

𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾'𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗆. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝖿 𝖧𝖺𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒. 𝖧𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 ��𝗐𝗇 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗈𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁. 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍.

𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗌. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗋. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝖨𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 (𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈) 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾.

𝖧𝖺𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 so 𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖠𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝗁𝖾'𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝗈. 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍, 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗉 𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋. 𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇.

𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍, 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗂𝗍.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗎𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝗎𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇.

"𝖪𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 '𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾, 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍. 𝖢𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 … 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇' 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿." He tugged at the shirt you still had on.

"𝖣����𝗇𝗇𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝖧𝖺𝗇. 𝖨'𝗆 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉. 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒?"

𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗅𝗒.

"𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇' 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝖾. 𝖭𝗈𝗐, 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿𝖿 '𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾 my favorite 𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗌." 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. "𝖥𝗎𝖼𝗄, 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝖫𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎."

"𝖧𝖺𝗇. 𝖣𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇' 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒."

"𝖳𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎? 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎. '𝖬 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝖼𝗄. 𝖸𝖾𝗍 ... 𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾. 𝖶𝖾'𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇' 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍, 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗁? 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅, 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌?"

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗀𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀 𝗁𝖾'𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗌��𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 and h𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗃𝖾𝗋𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝖾𝗂𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗎𝗆. 𝖧𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝗎𝗆 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝖾𝗍. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽.

𝖧𝖺𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝗂𝗌 … 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼. (𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽.) 𝖨𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌/𝖺𝖼𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒'𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄.

𝖫𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾. Y𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖧𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗈𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 his favorite 𝗍𝗈𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝖼𝗄. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿, 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝖧𝖺𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗎𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗍. "𝖲𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝗂, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒. 𝖲𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝗂 … 𝖿𝖿𝖿𝖿𝗎𝗁𝗁𝗄𝗄𝗄. 𝖥𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇' 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗌'𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽." 𝖸𝗈𝗎 mindless𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌. 𝖧𝗈𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖾𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗒. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍.

𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗇'𝗍.

𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗁𝖾 - 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖸𝖮𝖴 - 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝖲𝗂𝗇 & 𝖯𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆.

𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗋𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽, 𝖼𝗈𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗃𝗎𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇. 𝖧𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗇𝗌. "𝖥𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇' 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾. 𝖲𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄. 𝖢𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 '𝗇 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍." 𝖧𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝖼 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗒. 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒. 𝖳𝗂𝗆𝖾.

𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗅𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝖠 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗆𝗈𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖧𝖺𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗍. "𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌?"

"𝖬𝗆-𝗁𝗆, 𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾, 𝖲𝗁𝗎."

"𝖲𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝗍 again. 𝖥𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇' 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝗍."

"𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗆𝖾, 𝖧𝖺𝗇."

"𝖶𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍. 𝖨'𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁' 𝗇𝗈𝗐. 𝖦'𝗇𝖺 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍. 𝖦𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖾𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇, 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖮𝖭𝖫𝖸 𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖭, 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖨 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗍. 𝖦𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗍, 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍?"

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗏𝗂𝗀𝗈𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒, "𝖸𝖾𝗌, 𝖧𝖺𝗇, 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 … 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗎𝗆 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌."

"𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗂𝗍, 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗂𝗍." 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝖽 2 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗓𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍. "𝖦𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅. 𝖦𝗈𝗈𝖽 … 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 … 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅. 𝖠𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾. 𝖥𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇' 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 '𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎."

"𝖧𝖺𝗇, 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒, 𝗌'𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽. 𝖣-𝖽𝖾-𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗋, 𝗀𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖿'𝗆𝖾?" 𝖧𝖾 𝗈𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽. 𝖧𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗎𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌.

"𝖦𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗎𝗆, 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍. 𝖶𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖾." 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝗎𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽.

"𝖨'𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗆, 𝖧𝖺𝗇. 𝖨'𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗆. 𝖮𝗁 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄, 𝖲𝗁𝗎! 𝖯𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉."

"𝖣𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒, 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌. Not gonna 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗎𝗆."

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗌.

𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗒𝖾𝗍. 𝖮𝗁, 𝗇𝗈. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖲𝗈 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇. 𝖧𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁.

𝖧𝖺𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾. "𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌? 𝖶𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇' 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒? 𝖬𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅. 𝖢'𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖾." 𝖧𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌.

𝖧𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗈𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 neck. 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍. ��𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽. 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍.

"𝖧𝖺𝗇, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗌𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝖾."

"𝖥𝗎𝖼𝗄, 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝖲𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇' 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗀𝗈𝖽𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗇 𝗂𝗍, 𝗒/𝗇."

"𝖲𝗁𝗎," 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽. "𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇' 𝗆𝖾."

"𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖨 𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖺 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝖻 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗄. 𝖢'𝗆𝗈𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝗐." 𝖧𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗋. Y𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖿. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽. 𝖲𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝖼𝗄. 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗃𝗎𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗀𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆.

𝖧𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖧𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗋. 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾.

"𝖢𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐," 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽. "𝖬𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍."

@southside-otaku @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82 @viburnt @kazutora-kurokawa

[jollyjotter]

𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍

𝑽𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒔 𝗔𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗣𝗼𝘀𝘁

𝗧𝗪: 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗈𝖼 𝖵𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗌 (?), 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋𝗌 and occasional double writing 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 (𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋), 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 (𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗒, 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝖾𝗌), not beta-read, 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 committing my undying love for Vanitas on paper (Tumblr)

𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀: 1st 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗏, 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖵𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 absolutely 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 as usually (𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 hold and 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾), 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖻𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 (𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿?), 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾 and johann 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿𝗅𝗒, 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉

The night was unusually still as Vanitas and I strolled through the dimly lit streets of Paris. The gas lamps lining the cobbled roads cast a faint golden glow, their light flickering like whispers of the stars above.

Paris was alive even at this late hour, but in our little corner of the city, it was quiet—serene, almost.

Vanitas walked ahead of me, his coat swaying with his movements, a faint, minty scent clinging to the fabric. He had gone to pick me up from the Palais du Garnier—where we had agreed to meet, after my rehearsal.

Now, as he was philosophing about everything under the sun, I wasn’t really listening. Not to the words, at least. Instead, I listened to the sound of him—the cadence of his voice, the subtle shifts in tone that hinted at his rare good mood tonight.

It was as if the tension that usually clung to him, the weight of his burdens and secrets, had momentarily lifted.

He glanced back at me briefly, catching my eye. His lips quirked into a smirk, as if he’d said something particularly clever and was waiting for a reaction.

I nodded vaguely, giving him the barest hint of a smile in return. Whatever he was talking about wasn’t important—not right now. What mattered was this moment, this strange peace between the us, and the way he looked so utterly breathtaking under the soft glow of the lamps.

As always, he had made a spectacle of himself, with an air of casual indifference that had belied the pointed stares of passersby.

Some of them had stood near, watching with thinly veiled envy as Vanitas took my hand and bowed dramatically, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. "Come along, mon bijou," he had purred, loud enough for everyone to hear. "The night awaits us."

I had wanted to smack him. Now, walking a step behind him, I still wanted to smack him, but for entirely different reasons.

Vanitas was in a strangely good mood tonight. But I barely heard him. I really wasn’t his words I was paying attention to—it was him.

Vanitas.

Even his name felt like poetry on my tongue, a melody I wanted to hum to myself forever.

His profile was sharp, the curve of his cheekbone catching the light just so, making him look like something carved from marble by a master sculptor. His dark hair, perpetually messy but in a way that only seemed to enhance his beauty, fell into his eyes as he turned his head.

His hands were gesturing animatedly as he walked. I wasn’t sure whether he even noticed how far ahead he was now, or if he cared. Vanitas was like that—always moving forward, always rushing headlong into whatever caught his interest.

It was one of the things that frustrated me most about him, and yet.. I loved him for it.

I loved him.

The realization still hit me like a weight being hurled into my chest, even after months of being with him. A goddamn wreckingball of a reality check.

How could someone like Vanitas—brash, reckless, and infuriatingly smug—hold my heart so completely in his hands?

How could I love someone who drove me mad with his incessant teasing and his refusal to take anything seriously? And yet, how the hell could I not?

His voice was smoother now, softer. I caught a word here and there—"Johann," "curse," "dominion"—but they barely registered. I was too busy watching the way his lips moved. He was always like this when he was excited about something, his entire being lit with a fire that was impossible to ignore.

Vanitas always spoke as though he were on a stage, his voice commanding, his hands gesturing just enough to accentuate his point.

And then there were the quieter moments, the ones he shared only with me. When the teasing stopped and he let the mask slip, when he became just Vanitas—flawed, broken, and so, so perfect.

I loved him then, too, perhaps even more.

Because those moments reminded me that despite his bravado, he was vulnerable in ways he would never admit.

Tonight, there was a boyish charm to his movements, a certain lightness I couldn’t quite place. He wasn’t weighed down by his usual cynicism, nor the self-loathing that I sometimes caught lurking in his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

Tonight, he was free. Almost carefree.

And it was beautiful.

I let my gaze linger on him, taking in every detail. The sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips—how they moved so fluidly when he spoke, as though the words weren’t just spoken but crafted.

His hair—again, black as ink, was catching the faint light in ways that made it almost look like silk. I thought of running my fingers through it and immediately felt my cheeks grow warm. Damn it all.

He glanced over his shoulder suddenly, catching me off guard. "Are you even listening?"

My heart stumbled, but I managed a small nod. "Oui.. Of course."

His lips quirked up in that maddening smirk of his. "Liar."

I didn’t bother denying it, and he—surprisingly, didn’t press. Instead, he turned forward again, his pace unchanging, the sound of his voice rising once more to fill the space between us.

I let him ramble. I didn’t mind.

There was something hypnotic about the way he spoke, anyway. The way his voice was like velvet, smooth and rich, slipping into the cracks of my mind and settling there. The words themselves didn’t matter—not when it was the sound of them that made my chest feel so weird. Such a good, weird feeling.

And his eyes. The blue of his irises—the color of the clearest sky—even from behind, I could picture them vividly. That deep, piercing blue, sharp as a blade and twice as dangerous.

They were the kind of eyes that made you feel seen, truly seen, down to the core of who you were. And yet, they were so full of secrets, shadows lurking just behind their brilliance.

He rambled on about the details of his latest inverse operation, peppering in exaggerated quips about his own brilliance and how Dante had once again underestimated him.

I didn’t say much, only offering the occasional nod or murmur of agreement. Instead, I watched him.

A breeze swept through the street, tugging at the hem of my coat and brushing against my skin, but I barely felt it. My thoughts were wrapped up in him, in the way his coat flared out with his every step, in the confident rhythm of his movements.

He walked as though he owned the world—or as though he were daring the world to try and own him.

Sometimes, I envied that.

But more than anything, I adored that.

My gaze drifted lower, to the way his hands swayed at his sides. Strong, capable hands. I’d seen them handle countless tools, the Book of Vanitas, weapons. They were hands that could destroy and heal in equal measure.

The hands of someone who carried the weight of too many lives, and yet somehow still found a way to carry himself with a kind of reckless elegance.

Hands that moved when he talked. The corners of his mouth quirked into a faint smirk when recounting a particularly clever maneuver—Vanitas was utterly absorbed in his own storytelling, and I found myself trailing behind, my gaze lingering on him.

My Vanitas.

He was like the night sky—beautiful, mysterious, and just out of reach.

He was a contradiction, both light and dark, hope and despair.

He was a storm, fierce and unrelenting, yet capable of moments of profound calm.

He was so very human.

And he didn’t even seem to realize how incredibly captivating he was.

When he suddenly glanced back over his shoulder, I froze. How awkward.

"Do I have something on the back of my head?" he asked, feigning innocence.

My cheeks burned. "No," I said quickly, rolling my eyes. "I’m just being attentive. Don’t get any ideas."

Vanitas slowed his steps, tilting his head to look at me fully. "Oh, but I’m full of ideas, ma chérie."

There it was—that infuriating smile. The one that made my heart stutter even as I fought the urge to throttle him. He stopped walking altogether, turning to face me as I caught up to him.

"In fact," he began, his voice dipping lower, "I was just thinking.."

He let the words hang in the air, his gaze steady on mine. There was a weight to it that made my chest tighten. The usual mischief danced in his eyes, but tonight, it was tempered by something else—something softer, almost wistful.

My heart betrayed me, quickening its pace against my will. This traitorous, unreliable double-crosser of a heart. "Thinking about what exactly?" I asked him, my voice sharper than intended.

Vanitas smiled, a genuine, warm smile that was so unlike him it nearly took my breath away. "I was thinking," he said slowly, "that we could run away together."

I blinked. "What?"

"Run away," he repeated, his tone light but his gaze unwavering. "Leave all of this behind. No more cursed vampires, no more missions, no more obligations. Just us."

I stared at him, utterly flabbergasted. My eyes widened, and for a moment, I seemed to have forgotten how to speak.

Vanitas chuckled softly, the sound low and uncharacteristically kind. He took a step closer, the space between us shrinking until I could see the faintest flecks of silver in his blue eyes. "You could stay by my side," he said, his voice softening. "And I’d keep you safe. You'd keep me safe. Just you and me."

The words were ridiculous, absurd even, and yet.. his tone was so quiet, so sincere, that for a brief moment, it didn’t feel like a jest. It felt real.

My face burned at his words. "Did you hit your head again?" I asked, my voice cracking.

Vanitas grinned, his expression unrepentant. "That is entirely out of question."

"Why on earth would you even suggest something like that?"

He shrugged, the motion deceptively casual. "Because I almost died today," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

My breath hitched.

"We were near Versailles," he continued, his gaze drifting upward as if recalling the events. "A cursed vampire—a strong one. It was touch-and-go for a while." His smile faltered, just for a second, before he forced it back into place. "Made me think about a lot of things."

"Vanitas.."

He shook his head, cutting me off. "I think I’ve always been afraid of losing myself," he said quietly. "Afraid that one day, I’d look in the mirror and not recognize the person staring back at me. But ever since you came into my life, you little pest.."

He paused, his voice catching.

"I’ve began to feel safe," he admitted."Like I’ve found myself again."

My throat tightened. Was that a confession? I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond to this rare, unguarded honesty from the man who never let his walls down.

Vanitas laughed then, a sharp sound that shattered the quiet of the night. He ran a hand through his hair, his grin returning full force. "You should see the look on your face," he said, shaking his head.

"Vanitas, I swear—"

"Calmez-vous," he interrupted, stepping closer once more. His grin softened into something gentler, and he reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "I’m not going anywhere. Not without you, anyway."

My heart was racing now, my cheeks burning as I stared up at him. "If anyone here is a pest, it's you," the tone of my voice was more subdued as I muttered, looking away.

"Comme c'est doux," he countered smoothly, cupping my face with one hand and brushing the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone.

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "Why do I even put up with you?"

Vanitas chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Because you love me," he said simply.

And damn him, he was right.

"Vanitas," I began, my voice quieter now.

"Hm?"

I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. What do I do? How could I possibly put into words everything I felt for him?

How could I tell him that he was the center of my world, that every thought I had somehow, inevitably, circled back to him?

That I adored the way he smiled, the way he moved, the way he laughed? That even his flaws—the lies, the arrogance, the recklessness—were part of why I loved him?

Instead, I reached out, my fingers brushing against his. It was a small gesture, but one that seemed to speak volumes. He looked down at our hands, then back up at me, his expression softening. Without a word, he took my hand in his, his grip firm and warm as he laced our fingers together.

We walked like that for a while. Paris slowly seemed to fade away, leaving only us and the sound of his voice, low and steady, as he began to speak again.

This time, I listened—to the words, to the rhythm of them, and the way they felt like music to my ears.

And as I watched him, my beautiful,

Maddening Vanitas, I thought to myself,

If this is love, then I never want it to end.

.

.

.

.

.

𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝖺 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝖿𝗍 𝗂 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝑫𝒖𝒔𝒌 𝑻𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑺𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝗈𝗇 𝖶𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖯𝖺𝖽.

𝗂 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 for myself, 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 likely 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗈𝗈𝗈𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗌𝗈 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗈𝗇 𝖳𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗋 ♡︎

that said, this 'oneshot' or whatever you wanna call it, is being narrated from Lucille's point of view, my OC.

[cyberfanzz]

𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨𝖿𝗌.

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖣𝖺𝗓𝖺𝗂 𝖮𝗌𝖺𝗆𝗎 (𝖡𝖲𝖣) 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝖠/𝖭: 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 @mrs—nobody ! 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅! 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀 "𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨𝖿𝗌" 𝖻𝗒 𝖪𝖺𝗇𝖾 𝖡𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇. 𝖤𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒! ♥︎

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝗀𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝖣𝖺𝗓𝖺𝗂 𝖮𝗌𝖺𝗆𝗎. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 ��𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝖳𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖣𝖺𝗓𝖺𝗂 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝖽𝖽𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖽, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗑𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗀𝗈 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽. "𝖣𝖺𝗓𝖺𝗂?" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾, 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌, 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾, "𝖧𝗆𝗆𝗆?" 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾.

"𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾-," 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀. "𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍? 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗒?" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽, 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾, "𝖶𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝖨'𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗐𝗇," 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍.

"𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎?" 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅, "𝖧𝗎𝗁?" 𝖣𝖺𝗓𝖺𝗂 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋, "𝖨 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇, 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗐𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾?" 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝗋𝗎𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗅𝗆 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖻. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝗅, 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌, 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽.

𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝗈𝖻 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝖿𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗂𝗍?

[stevxiee]

Can you write two bit x a male hockey player reader :3

✿༺ 𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗱 ༻✿

➵ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝗍. 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗐𝗌 𝗑 𝗆. 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

➵ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖺 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗀𝖺𝗒 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌

➵ 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 𝟨𝟩𝟪

➵ 𝖺/𝗇: 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍

✿ ༺ ✿ ༺ ✿ ༺ ✿ ༺ ✿ ༻ ✿ ༻ ✿ ༻ ✿ ༻ ✿

“𝖶𝖧𝖮𝖮𝖮!” 𝖳𝗐𝗈-𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋, “𝖦𝖮 𝖸/𝖭!” 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖳𝗐𝗈-𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗒, 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗋.

𝖠𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗄𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖼𝖾, 𝗀𝗅𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍, 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅. 𝖧𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗍, 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅.

“𝖮𝖧 𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖳!” 𝖳𝗐𝗈-𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗒𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖿 𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗐 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗅𝖾, 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗎𝗍. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗄, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖿 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁, 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖾𝖽. 𝖶𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝖳𝗐𝗈-𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝖾𝗋. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗋𝖺𝗇 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌.

“𝖦𝖤𝖳 𝖳��𝖠𝖳 𝖠𝖲𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖫𝖤 𝖮𝖥𝖥 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖨𝖢𝖤!” 𝖳𝗐𝗈-𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗒𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖿, 𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗎𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖿 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗈𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖳𝗐𝗈-𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁, 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗂𝗍. 𝖠𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝗐𝗈𝗇 𝟤𝟥-𝟤𝟨.

𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗆, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆. 𝖢𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗇, 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝗁𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝖿𝖿. 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽. 𝖠𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄, 𝖳𝗐𝗈-𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾.” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖧𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗇, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

“𝖣𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖨 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄?” 𝖧𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾.

“𝖬𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗍𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗁𝗎𝗁?” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖻 𝗋𝗎𝖻𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗅𝗒.

“𝖠𝗂𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖾,” 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌, 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋, “𝖨’𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋.” 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈��𝗌𝗅𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌. 𝖳𝗐𝗈-𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌: 𝗍𝗁𝖾 “𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗃𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗌” 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 “𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁”, 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾.

“𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝗈𝗄 𝗒’𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐,” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄. 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌,

“𝖪𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗁, 𝖨’𝗆 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾. 𝖨𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍.”

“𝖨 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾, 𝗒/𝗇,” 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌, “𝖨 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍… 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗌���𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍.” 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄, 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗋, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍. 𝖠𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖳𝗐𝗈-𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗀𝗎𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖳𝗐𝗈 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌.

“𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎.” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆.

“𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈𝗈,” 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌, 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, “𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝖨’𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝗂𝗆.”

✿ ༺ ✿ ༺ ✿ ༺ ✿ ༺ ✿ ༻ ✿ ༻ ✿ ༻ ✿ ༻ ✿

[valentiyne]

꩜ 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗒𝗇𝖾'𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ꩜

𝖱𝖤𝖰𝖴𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖮𝖷 𝖨𝖲 𝖢𝖴𝖱𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳𝖫𝖸: 𝖮𝖯𝖤𝖭

𝖢𝖠𝖫𝖴𝖬 𝖧𝖮𝖮𝖣 ☆

𝖱𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗓𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗉𝗍. 𝗈𝗇𝖾: 𝖠𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍! 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖢𝖺𝗅𝗎𝗆 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋.

𝖱𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗓𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗉𝗍. 𝗍𝗐𝗈: 𝖠𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍! 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖢𝖺𝗅𝗎𝗆 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝖾𝖻 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.

𝖱𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗓𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗉𝗍. 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾: 𝖠𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍! 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝖠𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 & 𝖧𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝖬𝖾𝖽𝖺𝗅𝗌: 𝖥𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿! 𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 4 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝗈-𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍, 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋.

𝖳𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖲𝖾𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖳𝗐𝗈: 𝖥𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿! 𝖠 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾- 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖻𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗐𝗄𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌?

𝖱𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗆𝖾: 𝖠𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍! 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖱𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖫𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖬𝖾 𝖻𝗒 𝖳.𝖲

𝖫𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎: Dark!Calum doesn't like getting his hands dirty, unless when people mess with you.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻

𝖫𝖴𝖪𝖤 𝖧𝖤𝖬𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 ❀

𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋: 𝖥𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿/𝖧𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖤𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! 𝖫𝗎𝗄𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝖬.𝖨.𝖠 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝗋, 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉.

𝖲𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖬𝖺𝖽𝖾: 𝖥𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿! 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗄, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾.

𝖠𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 716: 𝖥𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿! 𝖯𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗋-𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗌.

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𝖠𝖲𝖧𝖳𝖮𝖭 𝖨𝖱𝖶𝖨𝖭 ꕥ

𝖲𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽: 𝖥𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿! 𝖮𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖧𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌; 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗅 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌.

I𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇?: 𝖥𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿! 𝖦𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌.

𝖫𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗆𝗉: 𝖡𝗈𝗑𝖾𝗋! 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾?

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𝖬𝖨𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖤𝖫 𝖢𝖫𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖮𝖱𝖣 ♧

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𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐂𝐓

𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘹 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘳!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦.

𝙬𝙖𝙧��𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘱𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺

𝙖/𝙣: 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵—𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥.

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𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗃𝗈𝖻 𝖺𝗍 𝖠𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄, 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖻𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗌, 𝗆𝖾𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗉𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗅𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗋𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖣𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝗎𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗋𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝖺 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾.

“𝖠𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗒,” 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗇. 𝖧𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽, 𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝖼𝗄-𝗎𝗉𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄.” 𝖨 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖬𝗒 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾.”

“𝖨 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗌, 𝗌𝗈 𝗐𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖨𝗆𝗈𝗅𝖺. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇—“

“𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗌,” 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗆 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾, 𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍.

“𝖢𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾, 𝖫𝖺𝗇,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽, 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽.

𝖡𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝖿𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗇𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄. 𝖨𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁��𝖾𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽.

“𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗈’𝖼𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄, 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗎𝗌,” 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽, 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝗈—𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖠𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗍𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗒𝖾𝗍.

𝖧𝖾 𝗃𝗈𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗋. 𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖠𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗎𝗆𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬. 𝘏𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦.

“𝖮𝗄𝖺𝗒,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖽,” 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾.”

𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽’𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖧𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽𝗎𝗅𝖾—𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝖾 (𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽).

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽’𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍, 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋. 𝖨𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽’𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉.

𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾, 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾, 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗅𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖠𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗈’𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖧𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗍, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾.

𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝖽, 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗉𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗅—𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽—𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗒 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁. 𝖧𝖾’𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾-𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗇𝗈𝗐.

𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗍, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒. 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽’𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌.” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉, 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎?”

“𝖭𝗈,” 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽, 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝖺. 𝖠 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝖽𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎.” 𝖫𝖺𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇. 𝖨’𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋.”

“𝖫𝖺𝗇, 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇.” 𝖬𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗆𝗈𝖼𝗄-𝗎𝗉𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀.”

“𝖣𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍,” 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽, 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽. 𝖧𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄, 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝖫𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖾𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇�� 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾.” 𝖨 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝖽. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗆𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆.”

“𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖽, 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌. 𝖡𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖥𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺 𝖮𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍—𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾.

𝖴𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖿𝗌—𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗄𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝖯𝖣𝖠 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗆𝗎𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗈𝖼𝗄, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗈 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖫𝖺𝗐𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖨𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽.

𝖠𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗆. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇—𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯— 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌.

“𝖨 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐. 𝖡𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾, 𝖨 𝖽𝗈, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖲𝗈, 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾, 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍,” 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽.

𝖠 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗀𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝖺𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝗆𝖾—“

“𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍. 𝖨 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗂𝗍!” 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽.

“𝖨 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄. 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖨’𝗆 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽, 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵, 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗒.

𝖨𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗉𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗍. 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾, 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆.

“𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾!”

“𝖨𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋,” 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖠𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄, 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝖺 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽—𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗒𝖾𝗍, 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾.

“𝖲𝗁𝗎𝗍 𝗎𝗉,” 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗄 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗍, 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝖺, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗑𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆.

“𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇 𝗁��𝗎𝗋, 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝖺 𝗒𝖺𝗐𝗇 𝗉𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽, 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽.

𝖨𝗇 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗌𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗂𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗎𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉—𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌.

[levandright]

˗ˏˋ ⌗ ( 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚. emil )⠀﹕ “ only if she wishes it. ” ´ˎ˗

ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ── .✦ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 1:05 ❝ so dance under neon skies soak your soul in the neon lights ❞ 𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 : @k-films

@ levandright : 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝗒 𝗆𝖾

[friesitas]

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