#It’s one of life’s great mysteries isn’t it. why are we here
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i’m afraid that it’s red versus red and blue versus blue it’s i against i and me against you
#Hey#Yeah#You ever wonder why we’re here#It’s one of life’s great mysteries isn’t it. why are we here#are we a product of some cosmic coincidence or is there really a god. with plans for us and stuff.#i don’t know man. but it keeps me up at night
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I'm more curious about the reverse!Monster au, how are the others test boys and Fellow honest and Skully are like in this version?
I like to believe they’re generally the same as the dorm leaders actually. Unlike regular Monster!Twst who have the 7 wonders as the biggest wanted bounty in the monster hunter field, as well as their pesky magic capabilities, the seven in Reverse Monster!Twst, are basically regular people who are just highly capable at their jobs. The same thing goes for everyone else, they don’t have the super abilities their monster counterparts have, so they’re regular people as well. I can give a general consensus on how all of them meet readers though!
Pairings: Fellow, Skully, Neige, Chenya, Heartslaybul, Savanclaw, Octavinelle, Pomefiore, Diasmonia x Reader
First however, We should go over the others, as some of them aren’t officially apart of the Monster Hunters. Also, there is 100% spelling errors in here, so sorry!! Reversed
These men are supposed to be Monster hunters… So why… Why do they act more fiendish than a Monster like you?!?
Fellow - A con artist on sages quarter who regularly scams people on the streets. Karma catches up to him when he finds you hiding in the shadows, attempting to sell you a fake artifact, only for him to catch a closer look at you, and realize you’re the monster the Hunter organization has been looking for. He should run, but the closer he looks at you… You’d be quite the attraction… Many people would pay to see the all-famed beast in a cage! Synopsis: To which Fellow pathetically attempts to catch you, realizing as time goes on, maybe there’s more to you than just money… Leading to his obsession.
Skully - The information logger of the organization. He doesn’t hunt any monsters down but collects info brought back to make records. He's been obsessed with knowing more about you, as your existence is shrouded in mystery. Imagine his surprise when he’s working late at night, only to look up and realize his (few) pictures of you are missing! His long limbs stumble over to search, he trips when the feeling of a monstrous trait lies on the ground. He’s prepared to run out when he stops and finally realizes who’s sitting there. You look down at him, your eyes following his every movement. Well now… Now that he knows it's you and not some random, how could he ever let those other Hunters defile you?! Synopsis: Skully finds the love (or monster) of his dreams in his decrepited study room! Now all he must do is hide you away from everyone else… But how is he supposed to do that when you won’t even answer what you’re doing there?
Neige - A support Hunter, who rather than do the hunting, acts as medical backup on the field. There’s not much to complain about when it comes to him, unlike the other factions. People like the 7 Highers and their upper ranks are looked upon with admiration for their skill, but in the same breath spat at due to their more than disagreeable personalities. Not Neige though, he’s the only sweet person in the field. This is why his co-workers are in shock when they succumb to their wounds, watching Neige tend to the monster who has practically sent them to their graves. Neige looks back with a sad smile, but when he turns it shifts to a smile with great joy. Synopsis: The only healer in the work field, realizes he recognizes you, perhaps from a dream, or maybe another world. But all he remembers is how much he strived to find you again in this reality, slowly abandoning his life, in turn, to live this new one with you.
Chenya- The weird citizen who somehow always finds you. No matter how many trees, rocks, or even heads you throw at him, he just always seems to come back with a smile on his face. He’s not a part of the monster organization hunting you down, but he isn’t normal either. All you know is his name is Chenya, and he wants… You don’t know what he wants but he’s always there! You wonder if he’s a monster too, but the way he answers no so casually tells you he is just a regular human. So why is he everywhere??? Synopsis: This human holds too much mystery to be sure of his motives, but one thing is for sure, he has a great interest in always staying by you.
Heartslaybul Upper Ranks- They find out about you when they follow Riddle one day on a private job. The moment they see him confront you they silently cheer him on, completely expecting their tyrant of a unit leader to immediately behead you upon sight. When he doesn’t they’re left in a state of confusion, only further enriching the feeling when Riddle doesn’t kill you, but cages you. You escape his grasp once more and all of them overhear the way he whispers.
“I shall not let you escape…!” Now they’re curious as to why Riddle is so set on taking you, not because of the rules of his job, but because of his wants. You’ve successfully swayed the strict Rule-Followers heart, it only makes sense his soldiers have grown curious about you… They scramble away when Riddle walks in their direction, though now that they look closer… Are his cheeks blushed red? Ace’s snickers immediately alert their leader's attention, his face instead red with anger. “Are you the reason they’re gone?!” They’re all quick to run as Trey attempts to calm him. Surely, it can’t be that serious, You’ll get that monster next time! Trey is the only one who hears Riddles's confession of not beheading you, but rather… No, this should be a secret between them.
Ace and Deuce - Officially meet you on a mission, where their luck randomly has them crossing paths with a disguised you. When that cloak falls, the beginning of their infatuation is sparked. They can finally see you up close… and now they finally understand why Riddle is so obsessed with you. Ace throws a quick smirk at Deuce, silently communicating a plan. They feign worry as they pose as travelers, worried about your safety. They’re lucky you assume them to be innocent merchants and not secret hunters. However… are merchants usually this close to their clients? They’re basically breathing on you…!
Trey and Cater - You sneak into Trey’s part time bakery on Sages quarter, attempting to try all the food you have never tried. The both of them are assume you’re just a random monster that showed up, giving them extra work. They’re proven wrong when they instead find you. They’re quick to put away their weapons and beckon you over with sweet promises.
Savanaclaw Upper Ranks- First introduced to to the idea of you when they see Leona covered in scratches and bruises, they assume he either went out on a mission, or something else entirely. Their suspicions are proven wrong when they quietly hear Leona mumble your name, kicking rocks as he plans his future trap for his prey (you, though, not even Leonas sure if he can can call you prey. The moment he catches you, he already knows he’s gonna treat you way better than the meat slabbed on his plate). They remember the name quickly, a top rated bounty. Jack is proud at their unit leaders strong strive that hasn’t been seen in so long, while Ruggies wondering if there’s a way for him to get some of that money. One thing is sure, Leona certainly has them interested in you too (accidently).
“Damn monster… Ruinin’ my sleep…” The two of them watch Leona glare at a flower. They think he’s gonna sand it down to dust. They’re thrown off when he plucks it and pockets with a swiftness that’s honestly funny. Now they need to know who has their unit leader so starstruck.
Jack & Ruggie - Meet you when they’re training. It’s pure chance when the leaves of a tree rustle, a body falling out of its branches. They rush over, assuming it to be an innocent towns person who most likely broke a rib or two. They’re frozen when the body picks its head up, the pretty sight of the most heinous monster in existence (you) blinking at them in a daze. Ruggie laughs as he leans you on his shoulder. Well, now he doesn’t think he wants thatbounty money anymore. Jack was never in it for the reward, but he can’t deny he thinks the same as Ruggie.
Ocatvinelle Upper Ranks- They’re already aware of you from the get go. They were both hiding behind a tree as they witness Azuls first meeting with you. So, in a sense, their first meeting with you was right then, beating Azul with dark bruises before fading into shadows. They never tell him about their excursion though, acting oblivious when Azul vents to them about his encounter with you. Ohh…! He really thought he could get you…! They nod along, subtly feeding into his confidence. My, and they thought he only wanted the status! To think you changed Azul from just one meeting alone… You are quite the entertainer.
“I’ll get them next time…!” Azul slams his fist down on the desk, his weapons clattering at the impact. Usually, he would care about such damages, it’s expensive furniture! But the look on his face is something entirely different, as if he couldn’t care about that fortune anymore. What would it matter if he can’t lavish you in it? He buries his head in his hands, glancing over at the golden conch on his table. Monster like shiny things don’t they? Perhaps you’ll come out to him when you see it’s glimmer. Jade and Floyd giggle as Azul scrambles to form a basket of glittery objects. Jade shines the gold necklace in his hand, it’s comforting to know they all had the same idea~
Jade & Floyd - They finally meet you face to face after such a long time of only knowing your elusive nature, all because they flashed diamond and gold in the moons light. Despite the way you snarl and throw insults at them, they don’t seem fazed one bit. “Ehh, Shrimpy’s kinda pretty up close huh?” Jade nods along. That uniform of theirs looks familiar... That slimy hunter..! Though… You think you might prefer him over these two…
Pomefiore Upper Ranks- Another pair (#3) who stalk their unit leader. Though, Completely unwilling for Epel. The sight of a disheveled bruised and beaten Vil is distraughting for Rook, he’s only narrowly held back by Epel who clings to him. He whispers warnings to the blonde, if you got out there you’ll die! But to let a comrade in arms perish despite being so near must be a much more horrible fate! He’s already pulling back the string of his bow to kill an ugly beast like you. But then, Vil ducks out of the way, the moonlight hitting you, and allowing both of them to see the sight Vil saw so up close. The bow drops down as Rook gasps. My... You are the epitome of beauty.
“How horrible…” Vil sits up from the dirty spot on the floor, dusting off his uniform. Rook and Vil are ready to run up to him, but stop when they notice Vil lift an object up to the light, a sadistic laugh of victory escaping his throat. “Yet amazing.” a bottle of crimson liquid illuminates with the moon behind it. “You and I, should be the fairest together.” he covers the glass container in a sack. “But first, I should strive to become much fairer.” Epel is left quirking an eyebrow at a teary eyed Rook. He doesn't know why… But he feels like Rook wants to both hunt you, and court you.
Epel & Rook - Meet you because of Rook somehow picking up your disguised figure in an overpacked crowd. You’re unsuspecting to the hunters that lurk behind you, wanderingly aimlessly in your next feast. You’re about to open your mouth and take your first bite of a meal, when a gloved hand covers your mouth and brings you into the body heat. A mysterious blonde man look at you with a smile while he tugs. Non non, your face would be sullied with blood! Our queen wouldn’t like that, right Epel? The other hunter nods, tightening the rope in his hands. Something tells you it’s not just Vil who’s determined to see your beauty up close.
Diasmonia Upper Ranks- They’re alerted to your continuing existence when Malleus bursts through the door, his overwhelming strength almost shooting the hinges. It's been a while since he’s acted like this. The first time happened when he first became unit leader, his cause of disarray being a sighting of you he missed by two minutes because Crowley kept the sevens meeting running long. It doesn’t take much to assume this next cry is caused by you as well. They’re proven right when Malleus tightens his fists, cracking the statue near the door with a strong hit. The utterance of your name proves them right. He takes a glance at the pictures of you ripped from books, each one adorned with a flower he believed to fit your aura in the frame. He turns back with anger and sorrow, walking away from the board.
“I finally saw them… But was it even worth it if I couldn't speak to them?” The confession leads to panic. Malleus… Finally met you? So… You do exist! They’re about to cheer for him, but remember his current unpleasant mood and deter from the decision. Though, the only thing left to do then is get you for him, is it not? They all collectively look at each other before leaving the chambers with great haste. Lilias laughing with joy, Silver is dazed yet still determined, and Sebek… Well, he views you with disdain, as you are a filthy monster, the things they’ve sworn to kill and protect the world from. But, you are the object of Malleus’s interest, so… He should most likely pursue you.
Lilia & Silver & Sebek - Meet you through a sucessful plan, where you glare at them from above the fire they have you dangling over. You’re shouting curses at them, hoping at least one will cast and bring misfortune to their lineage. You grunt in frustration when nothing lands due to your panic. Lilia tilts his head at you, questioning if this is really the monster blessed with the highest bounty in history, as well as Malleuses infatuation. Though he can’t deny it, he’s quite curious too, and he can confidently say the other two feel the same way. Silver is fully awake for once as he stares at you, even Sebek doesn't seem as uptight. In both of their minds, you’re a danger to Malleus, but you’re also his in the same breath, which is why... They feel so guilty for feeling the same way he does towards you. Lilia laughs as he swings you towards his arms, catching you with a strength unbefitting his frame. It seems you’ve captured both Diasmonas Unit leader and his uper ranks.
And perhaps… Maybe all of Sages Quarters key people.
To every ones misfortune, their traps fail and Monster!Darling escapes from them everytime, further increasing the missing count of Sages quarter, and perhaps the world.
#monster!twst#askves#and I really feel bad for ppl who requested like months ago and still haven't gotten an answer#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#malleus draconia x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#yan twst#leona kingsholar x reader#lilia vanrouge x reader#yandere malleus draconia#vil schoenheit x reader#yandere vil schoenheit#ace trappola x reader#deuce spade x reader#skully j graves x reader#skully x reader#yandere riddle rosehearts#yandere azul ashengrotto#floyd leech x reader#jade leech x reader#yandere jade leech#yandere floyd leech#rook hunt x reader#ruggie bucchi x reader#yandere twisted wonderland x reader#yandere
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DRUNKEN DECISIONS
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x fem!reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your night takes a turn with a sexy stranger on his birthday.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: VERY SUGGESTIVE, swearing, drinking, making out, ass grabbing, spanking
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 505
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭��: this is part one out of (possibly three if i decide to make a part two of this) for their birthday fics! matt’s will hopefully come tomorrow… it depends on what happens with my move.
this song is such a club song in my opinion, so that’s why i chose it. i pictured them grinding tf on each other to this😋
how could “i’m chris; i’m y/n!” turn into this? the position you are in right now is a great one, but how you got here involved a lot of alcohol and 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.
to put it simply enough, on this particular thursday, you and your friends decided to have a girls' night out. schedule conflicts and life overall have made it harder for you guys to get together, but tonight was the only free night you have until further notice.
because of typical girlhood, your friends ushered you to go and talk to him when they caught the mysterious boy giving you eyes from across the room. “the night is young!” they kept telling you, so, you went for it. this isn’t your first rodeo with a random guy at the club. did you have any ounce of thought that you’d be in a limo sucking face with him? absolutely not.
you have not a clue as to where you’re going. all you remember is chris telling you to come join his brothers and friends to a birthday after party at his house. you didn’t even know birthday after-parties were a thing. before getting insanely drunk, you learned that it was his and his triplet brothers' 21st.
it’s ridiculous how turned on you are right now. your nipples are perked to their hardest, his hands gripping your ass beneath your short dress while his tongue explores your mouth. he tastes like alcohol, but so do you. pulling away to take a breather, you gulp the smirnoff vodka bottle you dug out from the limousine cooler before he dives in for more of your taste.
“can this not wait until we get back to the house? fucking christ.” nick, who’s surprisingly the most sober out of you two, snarks in disgust.
chris pulls away, looking at you with bloodshot eyes as you smile wide, taking your thumb and rubbing some spit from his bottom lip. the lipstick you were once wearing is now smeared on his mouth messily, his lips puffy from kissing you for so long. “you’re just mad i can score a bitch and you can’t.” he slurs, smirking smugly at his sibling while smacking your ass hard. your cheek rests on him as you two look at the grossed out nick next to you.
“fucking nasty.” he murmurs a reply, turning his head to block you guys from his point of view. you grip onto chris’s jaw, turning his head back to you and hungrily smacking your lips on his once again. you’re too out of it to notice, but he’s hard beneath you, and you’re wet on top of him. your moans rush down his throat, hoping this ride back to their place is never going to end.
if it were up to chris, he’d fuck you in front of everybody here without a care in the world. he doesn’t do that, of course, but perhaps he does do something later on in the night. alas, that’s a story for another time.
𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @sturnlcvr @tpvmz @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew @fratbrochrisgf
#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo smut#Spotify
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Hiii, could you please do a live action jet x reader smut? Where the reader is a water bender and he meets her when he meets sokka and Katara, she knows hes kind of a bad person but she can't help being into him. You don't have to do exactly that, just a idea!
Rude Boy
Jett x Fem Reader Smut
Summary: Needing to take a break from travel, your group stops to rest in the Earth Kingdom village of Gaipan. After meeting Jett and the Freedom Fighters, you can't help but be charmed by his bad boy persona. He invites you out to the city for a wild night.
Word Count: 1.0k+
Ref Account: @kaionyx
TW: Rough Smut.
<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
You guys had been flying for hours and the sun was starting to go down. Anng decided that they would find somewhere to set up camp for the night. Appa was getting tired so they needed somewhere soon and Gaipan was the nearest village. Nothing seemed off at first, Katara and Sokka were arguing about the most efficient way to set up their tent. Anng made sure Appa was comfortable when Jett and the Freedom Fighters made their appearance. After they explained their disposition, they joined you around the fire. Jett was sitting right next to you, telling these lavish stories of glory and riches. Katara wasn’t impressed by his show boating and was disappointed you weren’t seeing it. After he was out of ear shot, all she could talk about was how he was a bad guy and not to be trusted.
It wasn’t that you didn’t see the signs that he was up to no good. You just didn’t give a fuck. His dominant personality was quite charming. How he didn’t tolerate anything he was unhappy with. You loved everyone in the group and have grown to be like family. However, being happy-go lucky and optimistic all the time was emotionally taxing. As Katara used her water bending to put out the fire, Jett pulled you aside.
“Hey I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come into town with me later tonight?” He asked.
“Oh uh- yeah I think I would be able to sneak away,” you said, looking over to see if anyone was watching.
“Great, I'll meet you here, in an hour or two,” he says while catching up with his group.
You were practically snaking with excitement. For so long, you’d been surrounded with morality and sunshine. You were excited to break away from that, do something that made you feel alive. Laying on your back in the tent, waiting until you felt everyone was actually asleep. Your heart was racing, trying to avoid anything on the ground that could make noise. Jett was waiting for you where he said, resting his hands on the handles of his hook swords. He smiled once he saw you, joking about how he was starting to think you bailed.
“No, not at all! I’m really looking forward to seeing the night life in the city,” you explained.
“Well, I’m excited to show you.” he said, holding his hand out for you to take.
It wasn’t long before the two of you reached the night market he was intent on visiting. It was really nice, several food stands that were making your mouth water. He pulled out a large bag of coins, and made your eyes widen a little. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw that much money in one place. Never giving you a straight answer when you asked how he acquired the money. The mysteriousness was only adding to his bravado. After walking the full length of the market, he took you to a really scenic spot. At the top of a hill, overlooking all the lights in the city. Laying on a bed of soft grass while enjoying the view.
“So how did you really get all that money?” you asked, laying your head against his shoulder; admiring his side profile.
“The less you know the better,” he chuckled.
“It’s okay if it’s bad. I know the group I'm with isn’t the most open minded but the Fire Nation made the world like this. Impossible to survive so why can’t we break a few rules to withstand their wrath you know?” you explained.
“Finally, someone that gets it,” he said, turning to face you.
Your lips were only a couple inches from his. Smelling the alcohol on his breath from a drink he’d gotten earlier that night. Everything about him was just so unacceptable, his attitude, outlook on life and his moral compass was so wrong. You were tired of trying to figure out why that was so intriguing. Shamelessly giving in to your temptations. Wanting to test the waters slowly, you brush your bottom lip against his. In return he melts his mouth into yours. Running his tongue over your lip, grabbing your face with his hands. Breathing hard out your nose, trying to get air in when you could. He rolled on top of you, pressing his pelvis into yours. Starting to kiss and nip at your neck as the two of you rock your hips together. He sits up abruptly, your lips separating with a wet pop sound. Now on his knees, he pulls out his hook swords and tosses them to the side.
For the few seconds he was hovering over you with the blades, your skin prickles with goosebumps. He looked so powerful and menacing, it made you feel hazy. Dropping back down, his hands coming down hard on either side of your head. You flinched a little, which made him chuckle before pulling your top off. Of course, you eagerly help him remove it. Your back arched off the ground as he took one of your nipples into his mouth. Swirling and flicking his tongue while pinching and pulling at the other. Your head falling back against the grass, both mind and body fully engulfed with pleasure. Your clit was aching and feeling yourself getting wetter wasn’t helping.
“Can I ride you?” you asked.
“No, I wanna fuck you until you’re braindead,” he says, flipping you onto your stomach.
Pushing your ass up and grinding against his leaking member. Spreading his pre-cum all over your skin before focusing his tip on your entrance. Teasing for a few moments before burying himself inside your heat. He started rocking his hips slowly, pulling out fully before sliding back in. Biting and sucking hickies on your shoulder. Trying his best not to animalistically pound you into the ground. Moaning every time he fully pressed his cock inside you; his head kissing your cervix every time he snapped his hips. Your head was turned to the side, perfect angle for him to shove two fingers into your mouth. Massaging your tongue and prodding down your throat. Letting out a moaning as you gagged and drooled. Wet slapping sounds came from how hard he was thrusting. Taking his hand out of your mouth and brushing the hair out of your face so he could see your expressions. Spreading your drool all over your face in the process, while making patronizing cooing noises at you. Your body went limp, barely audible uh-uh-uh’s coming out of your mouth. Seeing you turned into a fucked out pile of need was steering him closer to climax. Having no remorse and using your body for pleasure was his only goal. Pounding away at you with such force, your skin was becoming sore and reddened. Pressing his full body weight into you, pulling your hair to expose your neck and biting down as he came. Snapping his hips into you every time he shoots thick ropes of cum into your belly. Grunting and growling into your neck as he rode out his high. He got the two of you semi dressed before passing out where you two laid in the grass. Too fucked out to care about the repercussions and responsibilities that tomorrow holds.
#jett atla live action#jett x reader#jett x y/n#jet atla live action#jet atla smut#jet x y/n#jet atla#jet x reader#avatar the last airbender#netflix avatar#netflix atla#jet avatar#jet avatar smut
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Secret Daughter?
Summary: Fans are speculating as to who the child Jack and his girlfriend were spotted with is.
Liked by trevorzegras, jhugheswag, and 3,539 others
Nhlplayernews: Devils alternative captain & superstar, Jack Hughes, spotted looking pretty comfortable with alleged girlfriend & mysterious child. Could it be the center has been hiding a kid from the world?
user: remember when hockey was about the game?
user: You are on an insta page literally called “player news” dumbass.
user: guys it’s me and Jack’s kid leave us alone!
user: hey girly, I hate to be the one to do this…
user: Trevor liking this 💀
trevorzegras’s story
Replies:
Jackhughes: you are a fucking asshole you know that right?
Trevorzegras: 😎🫶🤑👍
Jackhughes: what the fuck-
It was a widely known fact that Jack Hughes was never one for interviews. No professional athlete ever really was into them with how often they were asked the same questions. But given his most recent injury, and his time off, he finally agreed after being forced asked to do one from the comfort of his own apartment.
After 30 minutes of having to speak about his team’s playing in recent games, as well as details on his injury and when he is expected back, the end was finally in sight. There was little talk about Jack’s personal life, apart from if he had been talking to his brothers recently, which was quite frankly the most idiotic question. But he was happy, given the most recent rumors, the interviewer had not asked about Jack’s mysterious child he supposedly had and he had thought he had made it out, until…
The soft footsteps were almost inaudible, but as Jack had become accustomed to listening for them at all times, he had immediately heard Eva’s approach. After politely stopping the interviewer who was in the middle of asking what Jack did to fill his days now, the center turned to see his girlfriend’s little sister holding her blanket tightly with tear stained eyes.
“Aw Eva, didn’t have a good nap?” Jack cooed.
“Bad dream” was all the child said. At this, he beckoned the child forward, letting her sit in his lap as she tried to calm down, still fighting those post-breakdown tears.
Seeing that Jack was clearly locked in his own world, the interviewer cleared his throat.
“So, I assume this is the secret child we have been hearing a lot about recently?” He pressed.
“She is, but she isn’t my kid. She is my girlfriend’s little sister who is staying with us for a bit.” Jack was fine to clear up the fact that he was not a dad, but he didn’t feel the need to go into the heavy details on why Eva was staying with them. It wasn’t his place.
The interviewer went on to ask the 3 year old a few questions. What her favorite color was, what animals she liked, if she had a best friend, were all discussed at length. Jack was happy to have the spotlight off of him in his own interview, and his large smile as he looked down at the now happy and energetic girl was not unnoticed.
Once Eva’s interview was done, Jack, begrudgingly, went back to answering his, now with Eva settled into his lap. As he talked, she nuzzled into his chest as she went back to sleep. After noticing that she had dozed off, Jack knew he wasn’t going to be able to focus again on this interview, but luckily the man interviewing him had also noticed this.
“Well Jack, I’ll let you get that little one to bed. It was nice talking to you and Eva, hope to see you back on the ice soon.”
—
Eva went back to bed soon after, waking up in a much better mood than before. She was now sitting in the living room playing quietly while Jack made dinner, awaiting his girlfriend’s arrival.
He turns as the door opens, seeing his very tired girlfriend in the doorway.
“Oh wow, don’t you look like the perfect housewife.” She said pointing to his apron.
“You will have to wife me up soon, too many people are out here looking for a partner as great as me.” He quips back.
“Maybe… we will see. How was Eva today?”
“Had a nightmare and woke up early from her nap but she went back to sleep on my lap… during my interview.” His girlfriend turned around at that.
“Shit, I forgot you had that today. I am so sorry Jack I would have arranged a sitter for her.”
“No, no, it's fine I promise. Although now everyone knows about her. He asked her a few questions, nothing crazy just like her favorite toys and such.”
“What did you say about her?” She asks, concerned. Understandably, his girlfriend didn’t want her family’s dirty laundry out there for people to judge.
“Just that she was your sister and staying with us for a bit. If you don't want that I can ask my team to get it cut out. I would have asked you but I didn’t really have time.”
She is quiet for a moment while she thinks. Eva and her family situation was… complicated. Jack knew that. A three year old staying with her 22 year old sister and boyfriend was going to raise some questions from fans.
“It’s okay. People will find out eventually and now they know you don't have a secret child. I’m sure that is a relief.”
“Honey, you know damn well I didn’t care. And I see Eva as a daughter. She has been in my life almost as long as you have and I adore her. It was kind of cool to see people thinking I was a dad, and a good one at that.”
She was on the brink of tears hearing this. Bringing Eva home and raising her wasn’t easy, and despite how long they have been together, she was always insecure about how Jack truly felt, even though he had been nothing but accepting and loving to Eva.
“You’re right. Hey, maybe now she can go to games. She always asks when we watch at home.”
Jack lights up at the idea. “I'll get her a mini version of my jersey. I'll try to get you guys good seats. That will be great.” He immediately walks over to Eva, taking her in his arms as he asks her if she wants to go to one of his games.
Even after all this time, there is no better site than watching her sister laughing with Jack, a man that had no obligation to love Eva the way he did but did so tenfold.
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Defend Myself
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (hockey fan & self-defence teacher)
Summary: During a hockey game, you get into a fight with the drunk man sitting beside you. When Tim Bradford arrives to break up the fight, he decides he'd like to see you again.
Warnings: fight between r and drunk man, unwelcome comments and grabbing (nothing overtly sexual or descriptive), fluff at the end, Tim and Aaron are sarcastic
Word Count: 1.9k+ words
A/N: Why I go back and forth between American and British spellings is a mystery.
Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
“Alright, ladies,” you call to the self-defence class you’re teaching. “What’s the goal here?”
“Defend ourselves and protect our minds,” they reply.
“Right. Because learning how to fight and keeping yourself physically safe isn’t all that matters. Focusing on what can go wrong in life isn’t any fun, so while we work on self-defence, use it as anger management. Have fun with this!”
Your last class on Friday afternoons is one of your favorites. The women are always excited to learn, they listen well and use good form. Most importantly, they really understand your goal in teaching them. In addition to how great the group before you is, you also get to look forward to hockey after they leave. Whether it’s a game or just to watch practice, you find yourself at the rink most Fridays, and as many other chances as you can get. Hockey and self-defence are two of your favorite things, so afternoons like this are borderline magical.
“Uppercut,” you signal.
As you demonstrate the proper way to move into an uppercut after the warmup, you watch the class.
“Can I ask a question?” a woman in the back row asks between moves.
“Of course,” you reply with a smile.
“Have you ever had to use these moves in real life? Like, to defend yourself?”
“Unfortunately, yes. But that’s why we learn it, right? If we know how we don’t have to live in fear about the when.”
“Which is why we chose the bear,” another girl murmurs.
“Can’t always choose. Preparation is key, and knowing how to react is the most important thing you can learn as a woman.”
“Fighting can be boring though,” someone groans.
“Clearly, you’ve never been to a hockey game. Let’s focus, ladies. Take a breather before we move into strength drills.”
You grab your water bottle from the floor and survey your classroom. Hockey fights are certainly more entertaining than fighting to defend yourself, but you enjoy both.
Los Angeles isn’t necessarily known for its hockey scene, but the arena is packed tonight. Your season pass with the seat on the ice is getting plenty of use this year, and as you sit back to watch warmups, you can’t help the smile that grows on your face.
As the crowd grows and the first period gets nearer, two men take the seats to your right. You nod politely when they greet you, but quickly return your attention to the players preparing to skate out. While the announcer introduces the teams and prepares the fans for a good game, you glance toward the men beside you. The one closest to you seems to already be buzzed, and the oversized cup of beer between his legs doesn’t instill confidence in you. Hopefully, he’ll stay quiet, you think. Cheering for your team is one thing but you know too well how quickly a drunk hockey fan can ruin a night. Anyone who’s been to a hockey game can probably imagine your concern.
You try to ignore him as he gets more talkative, but in the middle of the first period, he drains the remainder of his beer and turns toward you.
“Pretty little thing like you prob’y has some questions,” he says. “I can explain it t’ya.”
“I’m good,” you answer firmly.
“If t’changes,” he slurs as he turns away.
It won’t.
The bell rings and the teams leave the ice as the crowd rises in mass. You stay seated comfortably in your seat as your drunk neighbor leaves with his friend. Since you told him you didn’t need his help, he’s left you alone. As long as that continues, you’ll be able to enjoy the rest of the game, and maybe witness a hat trick from your favourite player.
“Here,” your neighbor says as he returns. “Looked thirsty.”
He shoves a cup of soda toward you, and you push it back. “I don’t want that.”
“Just try’na be nice!”
As he falls back into his seat, you lean toward the side to get some room. His arm moves to the armrest between you as he reaches his fingers toward your leg.
“Don’t touch me,” you tell him as you knock his hand back into his lap.
“Jus’ a pretty lil’ thing,” he murmurs as he leans over the armrest.
“Sir, get him under control,” you say to his friend.
“He’s not my problem,” the other man answers.
“Stop.”
He rolls his eyes as if you’re overreacting and sits back in his seat. Your fists are clenched tightly as you watch him move away from you, and you’re mad that he’s causing you to miss so much of the game and keeping you from enjoying it.
“Los Angeles, make some noise for the third period!” the announcer yells. “We’ve got a tight game and tighter teams. Make it a night to remember, LA.”
“Night to r’mem’ba sounds pre’y good.”
You take a deep breath before you raise your eyes. Somehow, your neighbor got more drunk in the short break between the second and third periods than the rest of the game combined. He reaches toward your arm, and when you pull away, he frowns and steps to stand over you where you sit.
“Leave me alone,” you demand as you stand.
After you put a bit of space between you, you notice that the people sitting behind you are watching you. You don’t care, however, as he throws an empty cup toward you. You move out of the way, and it isn’t until he lunges toward you that you truly react. Your fist makes impact with his jaw before he finishes stepping forward.
“Fight!” someone yells behind you.
You plan to do just that. If he can’t understand no or stop, maybe he’ll understand some of your favourite self-defence moves.
“Reports of assault at Honda Center: fight in progress. Attendees have made numerous reports of disturbance,” dispatch alerts.
“Responding,” Tim replies. “Code 3.”
“Aren’t there supposed to be fights at hockey games?” Aaron asks. “That’s, like, half of the draw.”
“On the ice. Fights off the ice are a regular occurrence,” Tim answers. “Usually drunk rival teams.”
“Easy to break up?”
“Sure. If you think pulling a guy who can’t feel anything off of another guy who doesn’t even remember why he’s trying to kill someone else easy, absolutely.”
“Could’ve just said no,” Aaron mumbles as Tim turns.
“Man, back up!” a security guard demands.
He grabs your attacker’s shoulder and tries to pull him backward, but it doesn’t work. As you prepare to throw another punch, you see that the drunk guy’s eye is black and swelling, his lip is busted, his nose is bleeding, yet he still isn’t quitting.
“Jus’ stop playin’!” the man demands as he grabs for your waist.
You push his wrists away and shove him against the glass dividing you from the ice. He elbows backward, but you block it with your forearm as he yells at you.
“The police are on the way!” someone yells from higher in the seats.
“Get off me!” the man roars as he pushes himself backward.
You manage to catch yourself before he shoves you against the seats. When he raises his hands toward your chest, you raise your right leg into a front kick and momentarily stun him into remaining still.
“Kick his butt, lady!” a man cheers.
“LAPD,” Tim announces as he and Aaron enter the arena. “Where’s the fight?”
“Follow me,” the guard replies.
He leads them into the section where the crowd has gathered to watch the fight. The moment Tim sees the number of people invested in the fight and the suspended timer above the rink, he expects the worst.
“Call for backup, Bradford?” Aaron asks.
“Not yet. Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” Tim answers.
“I doubt the guy can go for much longer anyway,” the guard adds. “She knows what she’s doing.”
Tim doesn’t get a chance to ask what that means before he reaches the center of the crowd. He watches you elbow the man under his chin. As Aaron takes a step toward you, Tim extends his arm to stop him. You’re clearly winning, but the guy is too drunk to realize that he can’t keep going. He’ll realize just how badly he lost once the alcohol wears off. A night in lockup would do that nicely, Tim thinks.
The man steps back and prepares to jump at you, but Tim grabs his shoulder from behind and throws him against the glass before he shoves the man to the floor. With his knee pressed into the man’s kidney, Tim secures the handcuffs on his wrists.
“Take him,” Tim tells Aaron.
Aaron nods and yells for the crowd to clear a path. He follows a small group of security guards as he walks back to the shop.
The crowd around you begins to spread out the moment your attacker is ripped away from you. You take a deep breath and nod at the officer who helped you.
“You alright?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you answer with a smile. “Little tired. Thanks for the assist, Officer Bradford.”
Tim watches your eyes rise back to his face after reading his name tag. He smiles at you just before the buzzer over your head rings as the game resumes.
“You wanna stay?” he asks over the sound of skates and cheers.
You shake your head and follow him to the staircase. Once you’re in the main area of Honda Center and the noise of the game is muffled, Tim turns toward you.
“That was impressive,” he applauds. “I’ve been called to more fights than I can count. Never seen one under control like you had it. You, uh, you clearly won.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to commend me for getting into a fight, officer,” you tease.
“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” he asks.
“I teach a self-defence class for women,” you explain. “Been fighting for a while but honed my skills for safety more than entertainment.”
“Then they were wrong.” At your confused look, Tim clarifies, “911 dispatcher said there was a fight. You were just defending yourself.”
“He was drunk and didn’t understand when I told him to stop.”
“Which I am allowed to commend you for.”
You smile at Tim again, and he decides that he needs to see you again. More than being impressed by the thorough beating you delivered to the man who was harassing you and trying to touch you, Tim finds you incredibly beautiful, and he knows you’re talented and care about others. He doesn’t want this to be a one-time encounter.
“Have you ever considered hosting a class for the police department?” he asks, looking for a way to ensure he can talk to you again soon. “We bring in instructors from the city occasionally to host free classes. You’d receive compensation, of course.”
“I haven’t, but it does sound nice. If more women knew how to defend themselves, it might make your job easier.”
Tim agrees as he hands you his card. “Call the station in the morning and we can work something out. If you need a teacher’s assistant or anything, I’d be happy to help, too.”
You tap his card against your thigh as you say, “I’d like that.”
“Bradford!” his partner, Thorsen – you feel like you should recognize the name but don’t – calls. “We got another call.”
“Sorry,” Tim tells you. “Hopefully I’ll see you at the station soon.”
“I think you will.” When you smile at him this time, Tim feels like you punched him, too.
#tim bradford x reader#tim bradford x fem!reader#tim bradford x y/n#tim bradford imagine#tim bradford x you#tim bradford the rookie#tim bradford#the rookie x reader#the rookie abc#the rookie#fem!reader#requests#hanna writes✯
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Partners in Death…and Life.
Part 6: Radio’s Last Broadcast
|Part 5: Gimpse of Me and You: Part ii| |Part 7: Me and You In Eternity| |Masterlist| Ao3| Taglist| Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, Asexual! Alastor, Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, dishes, being a simp for your partner Warning: blood, dead bodies, stitches Good luck.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
1933
There are too many dishes in the sink. Bowls and saucer plates stack together in one organized pile. On the counter, spoons and kitchen knives are arranged by height. Well . . . at least Alastor has the decency to sort this whirlwind of dishes for you.
The first bowl lines the edges with streaks of mystery sauce. You open the tap, rinsing it with your fingers to wash away the stubborn spots. A mixture of sliminess and wet wet wet wet harass your hands. It’s a bad night to have all five senses. It’s pure and plain . . . ew . Just ew, and ew, and another ew, and a dash of yuck. Someone please end the suffering.
“There’s like a thousand dishes here!” you exclaim, discarding the bowl for what seems like a million others. “Why do we even have so many bowls? It’s doubled ever since we got married. Do you just go around buying every bowl you see?”
Alastor reaches out for your face, holding you with both of his hands. He smoothens your scowl with the soft pads of his thumbs. Water runs out the faucet . . . but the heat of his palm warms your cheeks. “You’ll get wrinkles all over this pretty face of yours if you keep scrunching your nose.”
You pull away to continue rinsing.
Heh . . . hehehehe . . . pretty . (You need to get it together.)
Against your best efforts, a dopey smile replaces your scowl. It was a good try, though. “Did you do this on purpose?” A sigh escapes you when you notice the softness in your tone. Get it a grip! At least try and keep the bite in your tone. “Please tell me you did—it would give me a great reason to decorate your head with this bowl.”
Alastor places a hand on his chest with the fakest offended expression lathered on his face. It’s so fake it has a masters degree in fakeology. “You think that I would take time out of my very busy life to meticulously use different types of dishware, and trouble myself with using each and every single one to force my wife to wash them?”
. . . Somehow, that dopey smile manages to get dopier. Heh . . . hehehe . . . he said the words. ‘ My wife ’.
You cringe into your shoulder. Oh my God! Stop! This is so embarrassing.
With a deep breath, you make it a point to show off how you roll your eyes. “I’m not hearing a ‘ no ’.”
Alastor shows you his most innocent smile.
With a long and painful deep breath, you continue the dishes. There’s a smile on your lips even as your fingers feel the absolute horror of soggy food. There isn’t a life out there better than washing the dishes right here with Alastor.
Alastor stares into you with the brownest of eyes. His sleeves are folded into his elbows, arms crossed together. Sleeve garters. That’s it. There isn’t much to say except . . . well . . . sleeve garters .
The bowl threatens to slip from your grip.
Alastor reaches from behind you, placing his hand over yours to tighten your grip on the bowl. “Careful,” he says in a voice so low that it almost brings you to enlightenment. “This would be your fourth broken bowl this week, and the week just started.”
You blink at his hand a bit idiotically. It’s warm—he’s warm. “ Oh . . . uh . . . ,” you say because there’s nothing else running through your mind, not when every breath Alastor takes brushes your ear. “ . . . I’m not at fault here.”
Alastor squeezes your hand. “Really now? And it’s somehow my fault that you break ten bowls a week?”
“Well, dearest, you can’t really expect me to focus when you’re standing there . . . looking all . . . uh . . . looking quite . . . nice . . . ?”
‘ Nice ’ was the safest option your pride would allow you to give him. You might not be a poet, but even you knew that ‘ nice ’ was at the very bottom of the list of words you would use.
Alastor pulls away, laughing like you said a joke. “Funny,” he says. “And you still wonder why I buy so many bowls.”
You laugh as well as if you did say a joke.
Alastor bumps your shoulders with his. “How was your day?”
“You first.”
“I received the most delicious cup of coffee today,” he says, humming. “The flavors were so rich that I couldn’t help but gulp it down.”
You accept the smile that his words put on your lips. “Oh, shut up.”
“It was less than a dollar as well!” There’s a grin on his face that tells you he’s aware of exactly what he’s doing. “I bought it at this little café that just opened. Should I take you? I think you would like it.”
The grip you have on the bowl tightens, and you show him the widest smile you could summon. “It’s so lucky you think I’m pretty.”
Alastor laughs into the air, breathy and light. He inches closer and plants a hand on your cheek, thumb brushing up and down your skin.
The bowl slips from your grip when he steals a kiss.
Alastor catches the bowl, and secures it back in your grip. “I had a typical work day—played some songs, swooned some hearts, and all the usual,” he says, smiling from ear to ear. “Then, I made dinner with exactly twenty-one dishes, minus the pots and pans.”
“ Oh my God! ” you exclaim, glaring. “You did do it on purpose.”
“What a preposterous accusation to make!” Alastor inches closer once more to press a kiss on your cheek. “Can I hear about your day now?”
There’s an urge to swing the bowl at him . . . but . . . well, Alastor presses a second kiss on your other cheek. “I made coffee today,” you tell him. “And I was driven to work by a man who swoons hearts with every step he takes.”
Alastor hooks his chin on your shoulders, snaking his arms around your chest for a hug. It makes washing the dishes a bit more tedious. There are hundreds of reasons to push him off. You ignore each and every single one of them.
His nose nudges your neck. “Is that jealousy I hear?”
“Maybe, but you aren’t hearing it from me,” you say, wiggling your ring finger. “After work, I went home, got called pretty, shared some kisses, and some asshole decided to cook dinner with exactly twenty-one dishes.”
“Minus the pots and pans,” Alastor adds, pulling you tighter into his chest. “You mustn’t forget that.”
“Yes, minus the pots and pans,” you echo. “I mustn’t forget about how some asshole made dinner using exactly twenty-one dishes . . . minus the pots and pans.”
“Such vulgar words.”
You meet his eyes, showing off your teeth as you smile. “For you, dearest? Always.”
Alastor releases his hug, and takes his place beside you. He grabs the bowl from you, and soaps it with the sponge.
These blasted eyes of yours glance at him. You have to pull your eyes away to return to the task of washing the dishes. Alastor’s hair is getting longer. Should you offer to cut it for him? Although, the longer strands frame his face quite handsomely. Give it a year and he would be sporting a small bob. You could braid it for him. Alastor would look amazing with neat braids.
Egg whites cling to the surface of the plate. It takes absolutely every ounce of your self-control not to shudder at the mixture of water and egg whites touching your skin.
“Dad called me,” you say. “He’s going to close the shop for a few days—something about wanting to go into the woods.”
Alastor tilts his head, and a portion of his bangs shift to the side. “What exactly does he do there?”
You hand Alastor the plate, and your fingers brush together. Soap transfer to your hand. It takes even more self-control not to intertwine your fingers. It would be difficult to wash the dishes with one hand . . . hmmm, difficult but not impossible .
Alastor sponges the plate, and the chance to hold his hand disappears. “Are you listening to me?”
“I don’t know?” you say. “My father does whatever men like to do in the forest. Just woods stuff—camping or hunting or fishing. He does his own thing.”
Alastor glances at the calendar behind you.
You hand him another plate. Should you just grab his hand? He would complain, but you want to feel the mixture of calluses and warmth against your own. You should just take it. Come on, take it! It’s easy. All you would need to do is reach across and slip your hand in his hold.
Alastor glances back at you for a second, then filters his eyes back to the calendar.
With a sigh, he reaches out, eyes still planted on the calendar, and intertwines his fingers with yours. “You’re ridiculous,” he mumbles. “Just take it if you want to.”
Ridiculous giggling escapes your mouth. School-girl type of type or ridiculous giggles. You press your face into his arm. Alastor stumbles as you hide your big and stupid grin into his shirt.
“Stop laughing like that.”
You laugh harder, pressing deeper into him. “Oh, you are so foul!” you exclaim, squeezing his hand. “What an unfair thing to say to me. How dare you, honestly. It’s like you want me to drop this bowl.”
Alastor tugs on your hand. “I’m going to pull away.”
The grip you have on his hand tightens, and you stick out your tongue. “Too late! This is mine now!”
Alastor smiles at you, and once more you think you’ve reached enlightenment.
You cringe into yourself. . . . Please . . . just keep it together for one second .
This man . . . this husband of yours. He’s unfair. Too unfair. How dare he say the most ridiculous words that tug on the strings of your heart. How dare he look at you with those too brown eyes like you’ve hung the sun and the moon and the stars when he’s the one who does so. How dare he smile at you with a look that is oh so soft.
You will never be able to compose yourself when his very presence drives you to an insane type of bliss. Nope! Not at all. Not for one second. And you won’t have it any other way.
It’s difficult to wash the dishes with one hand. Neither you or Alastor complain.
Alastor caresses your hand with his thumb, moving it up and down your skin. He brings it to his lips and presses a kiss on your ring. “It’s been almost five years since we got married.”
You smile to yourself. “We should do something special.”
“Like what?”
“Use less dishes.”
With one hand, you grab a spoon, holding it out as Alastor uses the sponge to soap. What a sight to behold. Such impeccable teamwork deserves an award.
Alastor glances at the clock, then shuts off the faucet mid rinse.
He reaches for a kitchen cloth and wipes your hands dry. Now, both of your hands are intertwined in his. “I should go before it gets too late,” he says. “Is Jasper in pieces yet?”
You pull one hand off his hold, and open the faucet. Alastor closes it again.
“Let’s just finish the dishes first, and I’ll have him ready in a few minutes.”
Alastor squeezes your hand. “Let’s do it now.”
You squeeze back. “The dishes—”
“Can be done later,” he says, tugging on you. “I’ll help you finish it when I get home.”
Alastor pulls you to the basement, fingers still intertwined. It’s significantly less creepy now. Lightbulbs illuminate the space. You forced Alastor to add more lights with a promise that you wouldn’t step a single foot back inside his basement. (Well, it’s your basement now as well.)
Alastor twists the knob of the radio, and music fills the air. It’s just a simple piece of hardwood, but he leaves it in the basement for you and only you. Well, the music certainly lessens the creep factor.
Your fingers brush when Alastor releases his hold to hand you a butcher’s knife. It’s one specifically for chopping people in your shared murder-basement (Hehehe . . . . shared .) Afterall, it would be unsanitary to use the same knife for the food you eat.
The knife lies heavy in your hold. You alight that shard edge between the joints of Jasper’s elbow. One slice is all that’s needed to halve his arm.
Was his name actually Jasper? Maybe.
It would be a funny coincidence if his government name was actually Jasper. He looked like a dog, so you gave him a dog’s name.
Alastor’s staring at you. He’s leaning on the table with his arms crossed . . . and well . . . you’re not going to go back into it again.
(But . . . but . . . like . . . the way the shadows paint his hair does something to you that your pride isn’t willing to voice. And he’s looking at you with those dangerous brown eyes again. And that fucking smile of his. It’s the warmest thing in this cold basement. Second to the heat growing on you if he keeps staring at you like that. Sleeve garters .)
“You’re staring,” you mumble. “Stop it—staring is my job.”
Alastor laughs and it’s better than the music playing from the radio. “Is it now?”
“Yes! Stop staring and distracting me. Go turn around or something,” you say, waving the knife in the air. “I could accidentally cut myself.”
Alastor raises his hands, and turns his back to you. “We wouldn’t want that.”
Well, that was a mistake. You forget how nice his back is. (Hint: it’s really nice . . . like unfairly nice.) Should you just kick him out?
That’s a really nice back . . . You continue cutting.
It takes a few minutes longer to cut Jasper into pieces. It would take significantly less time if you were alone, but eh .
Alastor takes an arm and places it into the cadaver bag. What a weird night this is. It went from dinner to washing the dishes to stuffing a man into a bag. Alastor takes his feet, and you take the legs.
You try to grab the other end of the strap to help carry Jasper up the stairs, but Alastor swats your hand away. Okay then, suffer. A dead body, no matter how many pieces, are still bound to be quite heavy.
The both of you still at the front door.
You grab the edge of his pinky finger, tugging on it a bit. “Spare me a second?”
Alastor slips his hand into yours as he drops the bag containing Jasper. It lands with an audible thunk. “Always.”
The strands of his hair brush through your fingers. Its softness tickles. You let it linger for a second as you smoothen his hair. The lapels of his coat are next. You adjust the fit, securing it around him. His bowtie is crooked. Alastor inches lower, and you straighten it for him. How ridiculous of him to wear his favorite bowtie even in the comfort of the home he’s building with you.
“It’s going to be cold tonight,” you say. “Be quick. I’m not going to nurse you back to health if you get sick.”
Alastor knows that was a lie. You know it as well.
“Well,” he begins, smiling at you, “who am I to refuse the request of such a lovely lady?”
You smack his arm. “Be serious.”
Alastor brings your hand to his lips, pressing a single kiss on the back. “I am being serious,” he says, staring directly at you. “I think you’re pretty, remember?”
A small giggle escapes, but you kill it with a cough. “Funny.”
“Don’t touch the dishes without me.” Alastor drops your hand, and opens the door. Cold air rushes into the warmth of your home. “Let’s finish it together.”
You lean on the doorframe, smiling as you stare. “It’s a date, then.”
He stills by the entrance, crossing his arms. Jasper lays forgotten in his bag. “You’re staring.”
“I am, indeed,” you say. “You have such great observation skills.”
“You have the face on again,” he says, snorting. “You know, the one that says you’re just desperate for me to kiss you.”
It’s your turn to snort. “I think you’re just describing my everyday face.”
“You’re flirting with me again.”
“With you? Always,” you say. “But if you’re willing to permit me a taste of you, I’m not going to deny it. After all, doting husbands kiss their wives all the time.”
Alastor brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. He lets his hold linger for more than a few seconds. “And you’re the expert on what a doting husband entails.”
“I am, actually.”
Alastor laughs at you, smiling. “Alright, fine.”
“ Really ?” You slip from the doorframe, stumbling into a trip. Not your finest moment. Probably one of your most embarrassing moments actually, but oh well.
Alastor catches your shoulders, steading you with his hold. “You are too excited for this.”
“Nope! No, no, no! You can’t take it back anymore. You already said yes!” You close your eyes and inch closer. “Come on, pucker up, pretty boy.”
There’s a finger where his lips should be.
Alastor presses his finger on your mouth, pushing you back a little. He kisses your cheek instead, lingering on your skin. “I’ll be distracted the whole night,” he says. “I’ll give you a proper one when I come home to you.”
“My dearest husband, is that a promise?”
Alastor rolls his eyes, and grabs Jasper’s bag. Right . . . you forgot about the dead body currently stuffed into a bag. He finally walks out the door with a small wave. “Don’t touch the dishes!”
The door closes with a click.
Alastor stands outside the entrance, counting until five whole minutes pass before he slides down the wood. He’s sitting outside a door, leaning his head on the wood. It’s been a while since he’s done this.
It’s indeed cold, but the air doesn’t bite him at all.
He presses his face into his arm, hiding a smile you couldn’t see. You were ridiculous. He was ridiculous, and a very . . . very silly man. . . . Silly for you . . .
Fuck! Alastor runs a hand over his hair. What is wrong with him? But . . . ha . . . you said the words. ‘ My dearest husband .’
His head bangs on the very solid wooden door. Alastor clutches his head, hissing. He’s been acting embarrassing all night. The foolishness he displays around you borders on painful.
. . . Please . . . . Please, just keep it together.
Alastor touches his lips. It wasn’t a lie to say a kiss would distract him the whole night. When did he become the type of man who steals kisses left and right? He wasn’t even the type to enjoy a kiss either, but each press of his lips on you felt like a conversation instead of a chore.
An intimate language translated by the rings on your fingers.
There were words he was telling you, whether you understood them or not. Alastor’s not even sure he understands what he’s trying to say either.
He groans into his palms.
All traces of composure leave the window at the sight of you. He’s such an idiot for you. There isn’t a thing you could do that doesn’t drive him into the brink of insanity.
When it comes to you?
Oh, he’ll gladly be a bumbling idiot for the rest of his life.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
That one,
right there.
Him.
He who likes to leave presents.
He who brings me gifts he thinks I will enjoy.
He who is a fool, for I am not his wife.
To you, who thinks he can do a god’s job.
To you, who decides for others.
To you, who loves to smile.
I, too, have a present.
A joke.
You might not laugh, but she will.
It goes like this:
A father takes his gun,
and the hunter becomes hunted.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
A knock sounds on the door.
Alastor never knocks, because why would he? There’s no sensible reason to knock on the door on the home you’re building.
Cautiously, you peek out the window, moving the curtain as the drum of heartbeats echo in your ear. It’s your father . . . oh . . . it’s your father . With closed eyes, you take one single deep breath.
You rip the door open before the question could fully form in your mind.
There’s a smile on your father’s face, even as mud cakes the edges of his pants. (It’s mud. It’s nothing else but mud. It’s water and soil, and nothing less and nothing more. Mud is supposed to be brown. It’s mud. Nothing less and nothing more. )
It’s funny. How have you never noticed you and your father have the same smile?
He reaches out, and you stay frozen as he smooths your hair with a pat. “Hello, sweetheart,” he says. “I apologize for knocking so late.”
A smile forces itself on your lips because Alastor doesn’t like it when you frown, and there’s no reason to frown. There’s absolutely no reason for the ringing in your ears. “Who did you kill this time?”
His smile wobbles and it becomes apologetic. Why does it look apologetic? What does he need to apologize for? It’s only mud that stains his fingers. “Oh, my sweet girl, I think you already know,” he tells you, forcing you to confront that no, it’s not just mud staining his nails. “Alastor’s in the trunk.”
A part of you expects to crash to the floor, knees weak, and sobbing as you choke on your tears because your husband is stuffed into a trunk . There’s none of that. Alastor would be a bit disappointed.
Is there something you should say? He needs a response. What do you say to the man who birthed your past when he has the blood of your future on his boots?
“I thought he was a deer,” he says, plain and simple. It’s how you would have said it as well. “Some dogs got to him before I found him.”
The door swings wider.
“Bring him down the basement,” are the first words that come out of your mouth. Were you smiling? It seems like you are. Alastor would be proud. “It’s down the hall—first door you see.”
He turns back to the car, whistling a tune as he walks. You don’t watch him pop open the trunk.
There’s weight anchored to your feet. It makes the trudge to the kitchen longer that it should be.
The first thing you grab is a bowl . . .
You exchange it for a plate. There’s some slimy film coating the surface. You use your fingers to scrub out the slime. It doesn’t feel gross because it doesn’t feel like anything. The next couple of minutes are spent washing the dishes. Porcelain clinks when you stack the dishes to the side. At least you think it does. It’s easier to rinse with two free hands, and just as easy to soap when there’s nothing tying your hold.
The dishes are completed. Quickly? Not so quickly? Not at all quickly? You don’t know.
It takes a moment to count how many dishes Alastor used tonight, minus the pots and pans, of course, because you mustn’t forget about that.
There’s only fifteen tonight.
That liar . . . he used less dishes today. What happened to twenty-one dishes minus the pots and pans?
It was sixteen with the pots and pans. Alastor didn’t even use a pot, just a singular pan.
Alastor’s mug sits next to your own. You skip over his, grabbing yours to make coffee. It’s a matching mug set—it’s a stupid little thing you saw while you were in the city. It’s ugly, and it’s neon colors, a total eye-sore. Yet, he was determined to purchase it because you said it looked funny, and even more determined to use the matching set. It’s not funny anymore.
His mug goes into the trash.
You think you’re in the living-room now, a warm cup in your hands. There’s a book in your father’s hand as he lounges on the couch, skimming through the pages of Alastor’s book.
His eyes turn to the coffee. “Can I have some of that?”
“I never make coffee for guests,” you say. “The beans are in the kitchen. Go make your own if you want one.”
“Is that what I am?”
“Would you like to be called something else?” The mug warms your hands. It’s not enough. “The beans are on the counter.”
He stands, walking over to press a kiss on your forehead. “Alright. I’ll leave you here for a minute.”
The couch cushion presses on your legs. It’s soft and lumpy. Lumpy? When did you start feeling the lumps? You stare at your hands, feeling the way your muscles contract and stretch as you open and close your fingers. It’s weird. You feel absolutely everything and absolutely nothing.
There’s a mug in your father’s hand when he returns.
He clasps your hand. The warmth of the mug transfers to you. It’s all wrong wrong wrong wrong. The wrong kind of warm. These wrong hands were thick with roughness.
Alastor’s hands are smoother. They’re longer and daintier, and held your world.
The hand that grasps your own holds the blood of your world. “Time will heal you,” he says, searching for your eyes. “ . . . Eventually.”
The heat of the coffee scorches your tongue. It should burn. Logically, it should but it doesn’t. “We were supposed to have a lifetime together,” you say. “The only time we have now is lost time.”
He pats your head again. “I’m truly sorry.”
You stare at him, and the same set of eyes stare back into you. It’s still all wrong. “It’s late,” you tell him. “There’s a guest room upstairs. I’ll take care of him, and we can feed him to the neighbor’s pigs tomorrow.”
“Goodnight.”
You don’t say it back.
There’s no point in delaying the inevitable. The walk to the basement door is a familiar one. It still takes longer than it should. The hallway isn’t even that long.
There’s a picture of you and Alastor hanging on the wall.
It’s the only photograph in this house that’s framed. All other pictures are stored in a box, carefully hidden. Alastor hates having his picture taken, but he’s smiling in this one with a hand placed over your shoulders.
You didn’t even want the picture. It was just a silly little thing you suggested because you wanted to know how far he would entertain your requests.
It only took one ask, and he agreed to the photograph like it didn’t cost him the last fee dollars in his wallet. You stopped asking for things you knew he would hate ever again.
The photo goes into the trash as well.
The doorknob to the basement twists easily, and you have to take a seat on the steps. What happened to not delaying it?
Just a second . . .
You only need a second.
Alastor hates your frown. It’s something he’s never said out loud, but you know. You’ll always know.
It’s not exactly a secret. There’s always some kind of ridiculous story or some lame joke. The worst distractions are the absolutely annoying stunts he likes to pull. It gets on your nerves. It ranges from mild to thirty dishes in the sink.
All that trouble, just to pull your frown away.
You run a hand through your hair, summoning the courage to take the remaining steps. There’s the smallest of smiles on your lips. It’s nothing compared to the ones Alastor hangs on your face, but it’s better than nothing.
Alastor lays on the table.
His glasses are nowhere to be seen. He needs those to see. How is he going to see if his glasses weren’t here ?
You approach him, taking one step after the other. The weights on your leg grow heavier. Alastor allowed you to hold his hand whenever you wanted. You grip the very edge of his pinky finger, playing with it until you find the courage to intertwine your fingers with his. The texture was all correct, but this is nothing but a cold hand now.
You squeeze his hand.
He doesn’t squeeze back.
You stand in this cold basement, holding his hand even when he doesn’t hold you back.
The back of your fingers caress down his cheek. His eyes are closed. He wouldn’t be needing his glasses after all. Where are those too brown eyes that shine brighter than starlight? They don’t look at you anymore. They won’t be looking at you anymore.
Dirt sticks to the edges of his jaw. It clings to him tighter than the grip you have on his hand. His clothes are ripped, some fall split at the seams. Those nasty dogs really devoured him. His favorite bowtie is missing, and that’s all you’re willing to say about that subject.
You take a cloth, dampening it a bit with some water. The dirt wipes away easier than you thought. A memory taunts you. Didn’t Alastor do something like this for you once? Ah . . . but you were in a bathtub, not in a basement.
. . . You shouldn’t cry.
Not yet.
Not now.
Not in front of him. Alastor would hate it. If you cry now, there would be no ridiculous story or lame joke or annoying stunts. There would be no one to pull your frown away.
He isn’t smiling.
You drop the rag, reaching for your bag to grab a needle instead. It takes three tries to fully thread it. You squeeze his hand, and still, there’s no one there to squeeze back. “A frown doesn’t suit you, my love.”
Rigor mortis hasn’t fully set into his muscles yet. Good. It means there’s still time. You push up his lips until his cheeks resemble a smile. The needle pierces his skin easily. You pull on the metal, letting the tension pull on his cheek until half a smile paints his face.
You turn towards the other cheek, sewing a permanent smile on his lips.
“Did you think of me?” you ask, not bothering to expect a reply. “I hope you did. Some selfish part of me hopes I was the last thing in your mind.”
The silence stings, even when you didn’t expect him to answer your question.
“I hope you thought about me,” you tell him, tracing the scar on his arm. It’s the very same scar that brought him to your clinic. The very same scar that began the story of you and him. “I hope you thought about how you’re breaking your promise. About how I would have to wash the dishes alone.”
Alastor’s still wearing his ring.
It was you who placed it around his finger, and it’s you who removes it as well.
You place one final kiss on his cheek. “Goodbye, Alastor,” you say. “You were correct—it was a pleasure to meet you.”
And huh . . . you’re in the living-room again, curling into Alastor’s chair. It’s no longer a mystery why he enjoys sitting here. The window opens directly to a view of the garden. It makes sense why he would enjoy a cup of warm coffee and the soft tunes of his radio right here.
You trace the wood of his radio.
A blink .
Suddenly, you find the radio lying broken on the floor. The wood split open, spilling the contents like a broken egg.
How did that happen?
You stride to the shelf of knick knacks. There’s so many now. It’s filled to the brim with rows of key chains, postcards from places he’ll never be able to visit with you, stuffed toys, and weird statues. Every single items is unique and chosen for you and only you because . . . because it’s you who wears the ring that matches his.
There’s a bat in your hand. And since when did you own a bat?
You raise it, letting its hard wood smash through the shelf. All your presents scatter on the floor with an audible crack . It doesn’t stop with one swing.
What are you doing?
The piano catches your eyes. The jumble of keys scratches the air when you smash the bat over it.
There are no tears. There are no screams. It’s just the sound of the bat smashing over the keys over and over and over and over again.
Why aren’t you crying?
The bat tightens in your grip when you knock the legs of Alastor’s piano. It crashes to the ground. He would be furious. He took good care of this thing, and here you are destroying it. You would destroy a thousand pianos to hear him scold you.
The bookshelf happens to be your next victim.
There’s a tiny box on one of the shelves. You open it, staring at the paper ring. Alastor gave this to you. He made it out of the paper of his notepad. The same notepad he uses to write his future ideas. There’s probably a metaphor somewhere there. You can’t find it. Maybe Alastor would.
The paper ring owns obviously fold-marks. A testament to its age. Would Alastor be happy to know you’ve taken such good care of this ring?
It’s funny how a single piece of paper changed the course of your lives. A single piece of paper holds so much joy. It held the promise of so many tomorrows.
The box goes into your pocket, safe from your bat. The books don’t get the same treatment.
It’s easy to see the traces of Alastor between these walls.
It’s the traces of you that have you bring out the gasoline cans from the garage.
If Alastor was in the radios, then you were in the artworks. If he was in the dents of the chair, then you were in the stains of the couch. The traces of him combine with the traces of you. Time will make it so that it will only be you. The traces of you and him will disappear until this will be a home that holds nothing but a glimpse of you.
There’s a radio that managed to escape your bat.
A soft waltz fills the air.
You raise an arm, one shooting into the air and the other to your front. Waltzes were danced with a partner. Yours is lying in the basement with a bullet in his head after being mistaken for a deer. It shouldn’t make you laugh. You do so anyway.
The music captures you in a frenzy, and you dance in the middle of the carnage, filled to the brim with the ruins of your love.
If you close your eyes, you can feel the whisper of his arm ok you. It’s all still there. The memories of how Alastor twirls you, pulling you closer to him with an ever present smile. The tips of his fingers play with yours before he finally intertwines them. Alastor places a hand on your face, swiping his thumb up and down. It forces you to lean into the embers of his touch.
The gasoline scatters as you twist and turn with nothing but the flickers of Alastor as your partner.
It goes absolutely everywhere and absolutely nowhere. You dance and you dance and you dance and you dance and you dance and you dance and you dance until the cam empties.
The waltz ends, and you bow to an audience of emptiness.
It takes half a box of matches to finally get a decent flame. You stare at the house, at the home you’ve built, and drop the match.
It’s plain and simple, even when it shouldn’t be.
There’s a gentle smile on your face as you walk away. There’s no need to look back at how the flames char the wood.
You burn the memories.
You burn the traces of you and him.
You burn everything and everyone inside.
Ah . . . finally . The tears refused to be held back any longer. That’s good. Tears are good. Alastor deserves these tears. It means the words he’ll never get to hear aren't a lie.
Alastor, look at me.
Look how I cry for you.
Look at me.
You place a hand over your mouth, stifling your laughter. The irony pains your side. That could also be the laughter paining your side. “I’m sorry, my love,” you say into the sky. “It’s too funny. It’s all too funny. A deer, my love. You were mistaken for a deer !”
The roaring blaze of the fire mixes with the sound of your laughter.
“Alastor . . . ” His name leaves your lips oh so gently.
The fire that holds your rage is the only reply.
“Alastor.”
The howl of the wind.
“Alastor.”
He doesn’t answer you.
You offer a small apology to Alastor. A better wife could build him palaces out of paragraphs. All you can offer are cathedrals of . . .
Why?
Why?
Why?
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ḥ̸̙̓͝ỳ̸̳w̴͍͎͆̑h̷͔͗͂ȳ̸̜̠w̴͓͖͂͘h̶͎́̒y̴̲̌w̴͓̣̍̃h̵̙͛ỳ̸̭̙̐w̷͕͛h̸͉̬̚y̶̙̣̋w̷̟͂̕h̸͎̀̿y̷͕̗͆̋w̶̱̌͝h̵̜͘ỵ̵͆ẅ̸͔ͅh̶͙͊y̶̰̅ẘ̵̹͉h̴̦̙̏ỵ̴̘͌w̷̛̠h̶̲̬͋͆y̷̹̒̕w̶͙̽͊h̸͎̺̓͝ỷ̶̺̠ẇ̴̯̱h̶̜̠̾̔ý̶͍w̸͚̽͘ḣ̸̩̘̕y̸̟̑ẃ̴̞̫̏h̵̦͚̀̀y̸̩̜͊̀w̶̡̥̱̼̩̻̮̖̎́h̸̝̖̱̺̞̻͔͉́̀͌̉̈͝y̶̹͇͓͘w̷̡̛̱͚͉̦͎̗̅̎̓̈́ẖ̵͚̒̉̈́̃͋͛y̵̘̮̣̭̙̼͐͐́͊͆͗̚͝w̴̬̖̻͉̬̞̘̄̀h̸̢̼̐̄̂͂̅́̑ÿ̶̢͖͉̖́w̶̤̖̣̝̙͖̰͑̊͘ͅh̶̨̛̞̞̼̥̯̺̭̓̀̏̃̋̅͠y̶̡̼͚͙̓̆̐̉̆͆̄͝w̴̧͈͎̬͆̏̿̑̋̒͘h̶̛̹̭̳̺͖̪̙̗̀̅͂͂̂̋ÿ̸̜̥̠͕́w̴̬̪͓̰͎͍̘̔͊ḧ̷̗͊ŷ̴̭͒̾̄͆w̸̟̯̟̑͌̑̉̀́͜͝ͅh̸͓̣͓̉͆̏͝ẙ̵͓͓̙̫̟͊̔̃̈͜w̸̨̪̲̬̟͉͍͌͂̌̌͌́̚ͅh̶̗̘̔̀̿́́̒̅y̶̙̻̯̙͗w̸͓̯̟͔͚̲̤̼̓̈́h̷͔̘͚̦̔̏̿̇͋̄̚͝y̸͖̝͠w̴̜̣͔̹̙̪̲̱̽͒̃̑͒h̴̲͂͌̔̀y̴̧̪̍̀͋́͋͘w̴̺̉̽ḩ̷̱͖̣̂̍͊̋͛͘ỳ̸͙̹̘̮̈́̏̀͐͂̐w̶̡̥̻̘̘͚̅͐̏̕h̶̻͔̯̥̀̆̃̔̏́͝ỷ̷̧̟͔̳̗̹̮͠͠w̷̺͕͋͑ẖ̷̡̺̼̥̂̈́̀͜y̴̝̲̼̖̋̄͒̀͝w̷͔̏͐̆̆̄h̶͓̞͉̩̭̬̓͂͌̃y̵̡͓͇̍͑̐̔̊͌̕w̵̡̿̀̃̔̕͝h̷̨̦̒̊̇̏̇̆̌y̷͕̖̒̀ŵ̵̢̢̨̯̤̯̜̄͘ͅh̵̨̢̛͖̩̀́̉ÿ̸́̈̈́̀͆̓̏͜w̵̛̟̬͌̈́͛͜͜ḩ̴͕̻̫̒͗͆y̷͈͉̗̏̓̿̈́͆̂͠w̶̨̟̺͉͖̰̒͋̄̉̉̔̍́͜ͅh̴͍̖͕̆̌́̌͊͑̚y̵̛͙̩͇͇w̵̝̖̉̎ͅh̸̭̠̗̺̤̀͑ͅy̸͕̾̿͋̅̕w̷͍̠̖̾̃́h̶̡͖͉͓͑ͅy̴̛̩͍͇̖͔̋̽̆͋̉̕͝ͅͅw̸͔̖͎͇̞̦̺̉̃̎̀́̚h̶͓̝͔͙̼̓͐́̈͘y̴̘̘̦͔̥̽̈́́̆̑w̷͍̉͒̿͝h̸̳̬̱͗͗̉̀y̷̨̜̠͎͊͘w̴̢̛̩̌̀̐̄̕̚h̸̡̠̯̝͋͛̄̈́̈͘͜͜y̵̪̔w̶̫͖̟͛̒͌̋͝ẖ̸́y̷͎͉̦̮̝̦̼͋̍̀̇͌̐͜͠w̷̰̮̪̣̐̿͝ĥ̶̗̦̳̺̜̜̃͑y̵͕̱̜͔̝͉̍̅w̵̩̲̼̘̹̮͌̎̓͆̈́̚͘͜h̷̳̣͈͈̩̝̣̽̄̐̓͗̒̚͜y̴̟͑͗̕ẘ̶͈ẖ̶̨̡̡̘̎̑̐̌͌̇͘y̷̹̝͈͔͔͓̻͌̽w̵̨͕͖̺͙̆̂́h̴̨̩̞̓y̴͇̲̼͇̠͇̟͚̓̌̃̈̈́̈͗͒w̷̨͎̼̫͖̗̰͆h̶̨̳͖̋̾̇̚͝y̶̱͖̗̯̪͓̑̍̀͗͑͜w̶̝̱͛̚h̵̳̀̌̽̐̊̽͝y̴̹̔w̶̳̫̪̰̟̲͚̚̕ḥ̴̛̥̼̠̤̼̣̥͐̍͐̈́̾͑͛y̴̛̗͎͊̒w̵̧͔̰͔͝h̶̗̱̻͉̘͆͌͂̚y̷̮̭̾̌͆͠w̵̨̡̛̝̓̾̈̂h̷͙͙̻̤̼̅͌̊y̷̧̞͕̩̼̞͒̆̃̏̄̈́͝w̷͓̠͌̋̃́̎̕h̶͓̻̝͚̾͜ỵ̶̬͈̹̙̭͚̅̑̔͝ŵ̸̢̖̙͖̣͕͂͊ẖ̴̭̭̂̽̑́͌̔y̴̡̲̲͐̌̏̒̈́w̷̭̳̖̝̍̀̽̊͐͊̅͜h̸̺̘͔̻̼͍̑̆̓̈́͝y̷̭͈̳̺͎͕̻̎w̶̧̞͈̃͜h̷̼͂̄̏̾y̴̡͇̤͕̰͗͝w̸͓̰̙͎̻͈͆̏h̷͚̹͋̊͜y̸̡̧̡̛̤͕͖͊͊̀ŵ̴̮̠̫̼͓̳͖̓ḩ̴̢̘̹̣̝̘̟̔̎̀̄̊̀̕y̵̞̹̽̓̓w̸̳͈̘̣͇͆h̵͔͕͒͝ỵ̶͍̱̳̭̆͆̄w̶̙̼̟̼͓͇͊̌ȟ̴̳̳̰̩̜̂͑́͘y̴̛̺͎̲̘̔̎̆͝͝w̸̦͓̒̆h̵͚̪͚͚̯͍̺͎͋́̄͐̽̎͝y̵̻̪̆͆̍̂͐̅w̵̧̙̮͛h̸̗̜̏̀̔y̶̩̪͊̀́̓̈́̎͌ẅ̴̜̜̰͑̿͆̚͝ͅh̶͚̲͎̗͘y̵̯̦͈̥͂͒͐̄̌͘w̸̡̹̤̩̱̹̤̯͝h̵̨̗̭̊͆̏͗͊̈́̈͝y̶̺̣̖̹͐̆̓͑̏͠w̷̡̟̽͛̋̈́͌̑̕͠ḫ̸̝̼̤͈̹̟̩́̓́̽y̷̢̤͈̱̟̓̍̍̒̊͌̂͘w̶͈͔̲̱̆̄͌̅́̓͝ͅh̶̟͎͙̰̝̮̑̓̋̾̈̓̃y̸̘͌̀͂̑͋w̵͉̱̳͔̌h̶̲̩̰̣̟̪͘͠y̸̮̙̬̥̲͙͊̆̌͐̓ẅ̵̳́͠ḫ̸̙͔̣̼̓̔̉͆͋͝͝y̸̢̝̖̯̬̗̣̟͇̐̔̎̀̃w̷͌̚͠ͅḧ̴̢̜͕̘̮̥̺̤́͗͆̄̀̋̈́̔y̷̢̻̭̰̝̭̽̓̿̎̂͆̾̍̚͝w̴̙͖̠͉͇̘͑̓͐͒̾́͝͝h̴̠̳̱̜͈͙̩̥͚̗͒̑̃̕ý̴̛̟̎̎̑̈͋̆w̸̗̲̪̲̳̱̦̻̻̪͒h̷͕̤͎̦̦͕̀̉͌̀͋̔̎̉͜ỹ̴̭̖̝̆w̶͓̲̋h̸̨̢̬͖̣̬̓̈̌͌͜y̷̹̻͕̰̔̑̊w̷̢̱̼̘͔̘̯͋̋̒̂͒ͅh̷̯̑͐̅̕͝y̴̙͑w̷̛̲̥̟̣̩͕̘͇̍̉̎̓͗͌h̵̢̹̼̺͎̠̬̼̆̔̎̏ỷ̵̨͎͍̘̞̍́̈͒̓̓̈́͘̕͜w̸̙̺̠͊̓̈́̎h̴͉̗͈͖̙̜̤͎́̌̇͗̓̇̇̌̽̆ͅ
ẙ̴͔̺̦̺̫̮̳̿́͛̌̈́́̕w̸̡̯̺̼̰̲̱̥̹͐ḥ̷̩͚̟̖͓̪̮͍̠͂̈́̌͂͘̚͝͝ẏ̸̛̬̳̺̺̜̯̈̉̾̇̌͌͝w̴̦͔̱̣͔͍̄̋͗ĥ̸͓̻̠̪̬͕̻̝͆͜y̵̯̤͕͉̗͔̘͂͠w̷̡͎̪̓͂̈́h̸̳̬͎̦͈̺̟̳͙̏̎̽͌̈́̄́͠y̵͉̱̘̓̈͌͂͗̎̀̏͝ẉ̶͊́h̵͉̳̀̓̌y̸̨̡̧̰̻͓̭̳̑͘ͅw̴̡̨̬̥͚͍̟̱̯̄͗͑̿̈́̍͠ͅh̷̞̊y̵̡̢̟̝͙̫̫̗͜͠ͅw̶͎͖̝̭̙̆̽̑͋h̸̡̞͖͕̹̖̟̪̪͊̂̾͒y̶̝̳͇͖̹̪͗̈́̀̂w̴̳̻̯̞̱̳̘͚̔̄͊̒̃̽̌̑̕̚ͅḧ̸̰̺͔͓̘͇͙͕̱́̀̌̈̒͐̀͘̕ÿ̷̛̗̻̱̞͔̠̙̘̯́̾̀͗͗͗̕͘ẅ̸̲͕͚͕̱̟̩͂̌͌̈́͆̄͠ͅh̸̻̝̭͖̜̱̀̿y̷͕̋͑̉͛̅͂̾̎̕͠w̵̨̗̻̤͕̯̻̻͕̜̅̋h̷̢̝̞͎̙͔͋̃̍͆̋͒y̸̢̠͙͚̫̫͇̍͊̒̊̀̔̅͐ͅw̴̛̘̞̦̘͕̼̳̠͖͐̃̔͌̀̈̐͘͝h̸̨͕̼͕̝̘̫͙͓͛͒̕͜ȳ̶͕̝̝̥͝w̶̰̜̫̖̬͕̺̽͆̊̃̀̒̿͌h̷̢̑͐̽̓́͊̒̈́̈y̶͍̬̽ẁ̸̥̤̅̑̌́́͐̏͝h̶̜̺̗̋̀͆̊͐̿̄̏̑͐y̴̻͎͙͆̿͌̏̀̇͐̚͝w̸̡̰̻̪̲̘̪̣̪̹̽̿̿́̉̐̇̚̕ḧ̸̰́ÿ̷̭͓̗͎̻̄͐̔͜w̷̺͈̝̝̰̫͓̿́̈́̊̅̑́̑̕͝h̷͚̖͕͈̊̽̍̊̃̋͒ȳ̸̛̲̰͋͛͊͘ẅ̸̡̦̤̠̣̮́̀̋͐̓͑͒͌̓͊h̸̢̛̻̪͙̞͙ý̵͓̙̺̺̻̈́̓͂w̷͖̹̗͖̜̥̱͗̒͜h̴̝̙̩̣͗̽̈́̂͐̈͋y̶̡̲̠̬͓̥͙̐̑̐̍͆̎̍̒͘ẅ̴̢̧̢͖̯̻̜͇̲̩́͋̋͘ȟ̷̛͉̬̗̞͖ÿ̷͎͕̠́̄̈́̑̋̾͝
w̶̲͖̰̫͚̻̲̋̋͘͝h̶̨͎̣̠̰͎̤͔͊̈́͆ͅy̴̨̬̣̼̯̣̪̙̬̲͒̈́̈́̈́̐w̴̧̦̲̲͋̾̾̐͒̿̈́ḧ̸̢̫͌̈̏̓͌̐͝y̵̨̲͙͙̣͎͍̟̿̂͂̄ͅw̵̥͔̜͓̹͐́̋ĥ̸̛̳̟̠̱̹̱͔̿͐ỳ̴̡̧̭͎̣͙̗w̵͕̦̬̘̳̻̉̿͗̆͛͘͝͠h̸̢͉̙͉̯̠͈͕̋͂ÿ̴̝̙̙̹̤̻͍̀w̴̛̭̟̰̟̥̻͓̗̅̓̐̂́̀́̈́ḧ̶̛̛́̔̎̋͊͠͝͠ͅy̸̡̫͍͔̣̣̟̝̝̦̓̑̐w̴̹͕̖̗̦͑h̵̖̩͉͐̔̆̊͘͠y̴̝̹̻̩͉͂̿͜w̴̧̜̻̩̔̍̕h̵̖̳̼̪͚̮̥͂͘y̵͎̰͐͜ẁ̵̧̜͎͈̖͕͇͊́̅̑͠͝͠ḧ̷͖͖͍̈̔̓̑̋͒͘ỵ̶͚̱̰̹̫̆́̈́͋͒͊͑ͅw̶̨͎̯̣̰̭̕ͅh̵̻̘̭̐̒͐͒̊̀͐̿̏͝ÿ̵͓͍̼̪̖̣̤̮̍̋͊̉̅͑̈w̸͙̻̬̱͖͝h̸̟͉̩͍̾̀̾͘ý̷̘̯̚̚w̸̧͙͔͎̣̠̤͎̾̓͑̄̓͋h̸̨̡̙̮̹̻́̈́̈́͛̑̀̀̕͠y̷̦̘͒̚ẅ̷͎̮̩̺̙̮͖́̄̐ḧ̶̤̭͕̝͚̅̃́̚̕͝y̵͕̻͎̗̺͈̆̐͜͜ͅw̶̪̱̙͙͓̋̈́͋͆̈́̅h̶̛̖̣̹̋̈̈̑́̃̎y̴̧̟̬̘̆̇̋͒̒̉̐ẅ̷̨̧̢͕̜̼̯͎̗̣́̓̽̑́̍͘ḫ̵̛̯̲͍̺̦͕͖̅̎̓̍̊̿́͘͠y̶͎̓͐͜w̶̡̮̭̙͔͚͍̺̄̑̇́͗̈́̾͝͝h̴̡̨̢̛͈͎̰̱͈͒͋͂͂͗̃̈́͊̔ẏ̴̧̢̹͖͑̐̇̑̽́͆̃͠w̷̛͙̬̪̹̞̍́͒̒̀̾́̌͠h̴̠̱̐̀y̶͓̿̐ŵ̶̖̭̄͂̓̂̈́̂̋̈́͜h̷͔̼͔̄́̂̄̋͋̕͘͜ͅy̴̰̱̱͈̏̏̍́́͠͝w̷̡̜̦͖͕̤͍̆̽͂͂̄͊̃̄͒͠
h̶̨̫̜̠̪͚̺̐͌̓͛͒̓̈̔͘͝ͅy̷̥̘͍̥̙̻̫̮̎̏͐̒͝ͅw̷̢͖̘̲̟̦̝̟̹͝h̷͖̣̪̳̯̝͍̿͐̍͊̅y̴̘̯͉̪̫͔̺̳̌͆̈w̵̧̧̞͚̗̙̗̓̂͋̐͌̍h̴̛̠̼̟̯͎͕̩̖̒̀̌͑̃͠͝͝y̸̥̜͍̣͚̟̤̟̰͓͒̿̍̀̈͘w̸̼͉̘̙̘̩̯͕̠͉͎̱͎̑̏h̸̻̻͓̆̑̄̆̿̌̓̉̂͂̐͛̆̓̓͘̕͝y̵̧̛̯̜̬̤͍̬̪̟͉̞͓͒̏͗͊̈́��̿͆̽́͂̀͐̍́̚͘ͅw̴̧̡̟̣̠͉̮͕̥̤͎̱͒́̿̈́͋̽̈́͂͛̄͜h̴͇͖͓́̏̅̉̄͋̿͌͜͝y̷̨̺̩̲̟̰͈̩̻͔̺̹͉̜̔̎̃̄̀͌̍͜͝w̵͙̘͍̻̰̥̹̲̰̪̪̿̃̆̀͆̾̒̋̓̐̏͊͘̕͜h̶̭̬̹̘̝͖̭̭̗̎̏̾͂y̵̨̰̗̳̱̹̘̭̹̦̼̗͍͕̠͖͙͉̩̠͕̜͍̰̆͗͑̽̂͒̆̈́̓̀̓͑́̄̈́̈́̽͘w̵̛̥̼͉̅̊͑̿̾̀̐͗̅̓͐͘̚͝h̶̡̛̻͉͖͎̪̻̬̮̜̥̞̫̤̬͎̜̹̒͒̿͐̓̌̚ý̴͉̫͂͒͝ͅw̷̨̢̡̙̼̗̜̼͈̘͍̺̲͎̰̥̬̺̲͛̑̈́͊͂ͅh̴̡̨̻͍̤͙̤͇̞̉̄̒̑͆̔̅̾͐͛̉̉̿͋̏̌̈́̔͛͝y̶̨̨̳̪̲̺̟̣͕̥̱̼̝̮̳̻̦̯̺̼͒͑̔͊͌̂̑͊̿̾̉̌͌̒̇̏̓̅͘͜͠͠͠ͅw̸̡̡̦͓̣͙̠͙̮̯̱̬͍͔̤̩͓̤͆͑̀̂͆̈́̅͑͘̚͜͜͜h̵̡̢̖͇̜̘̗̤͔̣͎̟̟̱̫̳̘̜͚̣͇̖͊̕ͅͅy̸̡̢̧̟̭͕̺̪̜̩̤̺̯̘͉͖̭̥͉̐̄ͅw̷̨̻̱̮͇̪̤͎̰̲̯̪͊̓̒̓̏̒̾͋̍̈́̾̋̐͒̓͘͜͝ͅh̵̨̧̻̲̺̬̦̞̮̮̝̫̻̳̮͕̰̤̩́̈̔̓͛̉̈́̀̀̓̀͐̔̍͒̿͝͝͝͠͝ͅy̴̡̖̝͎͇̣̥̪̭͎̼̭̫͋̔̌͆̆̋̈́́͋́̔̈̏͆̃͗̇̍̒͘͝͠ẘ̷̢̢̢̥̩̙̙̝̞̞̜̟̼̩̘͎̆̾̆̾͗̔͌́ḧ̶͓̯̳̝͙͚̟͕̣̥͉͚́̍̏̀͊̎͛̍̾̅́̓͂̿͠͠͝͝y̸͓͖̙̣͚̳͓̭̺̩͈̭͉̟͛̃̇̍͌̃̎̄̀̌͑͐̄̃͋̌̐̚̕͝w̴̢̯̹͓̺̳̹̩̣͍̪͚͖̻̻̮̯͐͊̀͊̕͜͝h̵̢̢̧̺̠͓̬͈̼͙͙̦̼̮̩͙̙̩̬̫͙̞̓͐̋́͆̌̃̄̌̚͘y̶̗̯͉̪̖͙͚͈̫̝̪̣͉͉͚̞̮͉͚̹̎̽̾̔̅̐̒̇̀̉̽̔͑͑̑̚͜͜͝͠ẁ̸̡̗͇̩̠̭̪͎͍̽̑̂͐̈́͒̈͘h̵̢̗͚̠͉͙̥͎͎̦̻̮̞͕̳͔̳̭̥͙͆̄͑̿̒̆̈́ỷ̸̨̡̰͖͇͙̜̭̣̗̯̳̠̦͎̦͔̤̽̓̔́̈͂͂̃̀̿̒͑̅̏̇̕͜͠w̷̡̡̹̩͈̹̺͇̗͇̦͙̦̭͕̟̪̲̅͛̔͆̑͂́̍̾̐ḧ̴̨̠͕̖̭͎͚̝́́͊͗̂͌̉̓̓̀͋̚y̷̨̡̧̢͎̺͈̲̪̻̥̹̲͐͊̍͋̓͒̏̋̂́͗͆̒̔̈́͒̔̓͜͝͝͝w̵̢̧̗̩̹̦̬͕̤̰̫̳̻̮̥̖̦̖̟̼͎͒̈̆̆́̌̑͛͜͠͠͝͝ḩ̷̛̜̗͎̙̦͙̲̱́̿̎͛̽̋͌̄̕͠y̵̛͍̟̞͎̟̯̲͙̞̻̗̤̬̼͑̍̅̈̆́͋̌̉̈́̓̍ͅẅ̵̨̨̛̼̫̭̜͈̪̘̳̖͍̳̤̲̽̎́̍̇͋̇̆͑͌̒́͂̈̽̂͛̑͜͝h̸̨̨͙͕̘͍̤̱̣̣͈́̔̈́̅̌͝ÿ̷̡̬͕̣͓͇̖̱̤͈̟̙͔̖̞͚̿̅̊͋͝w̷̳̤̦̦͙͕̯̍̋̊̔͌̂͊͐͝h̵̡̢̢̧̘̪̼̰̤͎̪͍͉̭̜̞͈͕̲̺̮̠̐̿͑͛̀̏̍̋͜͜͝͝ŷ̶̧̱̲͍̀́̅̾̍̀̌͛̓͠ẅ̷̢̛̻͑̈̏̋̅̃͋̆̏̓̈́̇̒̿̋̏͋͐̾̚͘͝h̷̥͍͓̲̓̽͊̿̾̈́
y̷̘̙̮̩̌̃̉̓͊̓̂̽̌̆͛̅̃̅̎̚͠w̶��̼̠̙̮̟̗̳̽͒̓̊̍̓̍͜ḩ̷̢̝͎̫͔̟͚͚̺̲̺͍̜̤̳̯͕̰̔̇̃̑͆̓̅̀͌́͋̾̒͘͝͝ͅỹ̸̧̨̨̧̘̳̱̮̹̳̼̫̼̗̻̝̰̝̠͈̱̞͓̭̾̊͑̔̔̄̉͛̾̈́͊̏̚͠͝ẃ̶̨̨̲̭̻̮̣̯͖̰̳͚̖͚͓͕͕̹͜h̸̡̦̪̗͙͎͓̞̺̝͈̗̦̭͔̘̤͎̆̿͌̈́͂̇̇̒͋̊͒̑̀̓͋͌͂̑͊̉̒͜͝͠ͅy̶͍̏́w̵̛̛̬͎̤̦̼̬̼̯͖͈̬̳̜̰̞͚͎͈͗́̅̽̀̓̏̇̓́̈́̑̒͋͐͌͑̉͐͝͝ͅh̶̨̢̢̗̜͇̳̺͍̰̳̫͉̫͍͖͎̥̭̪̮̯͆̈́͆̊̽͌̎̓̽̑̒͐̚̚ỷ̶̨̛̩̻͍̺̽̇̋̃̇̀̐͌̇̈́͗͆̋̊̒̕͝͝w̵̯̭̥̜͉̤̱̦̮͔̦̲̅̄̎̿̀́͑̏̀͆̇̂͆͝ḩ̴̢̡̛̛̫̳̘̞̟͍͎͇̮͇̥̬̬̣̩͇́̇̔̆̊́̿͗͋̈́̅̀͋̇̇̽́̒̎̇̚̕ͅy̴̨̧̢̛͖͉͇̞̖̣͎͇̼̫̻͇̮̙̼̳͈̐͌̋͂̊̈́̄͐̌͐̄͗͜͝͝ͅw̸͈̬͈͈͈̺̳̘͈̥̪͖͈̹͙̣̖̱̙͈̏̍̀̉̎̍́̿͗͌͒̀͋́͊̀̋̇͋̕͜͠͠͠h̸̨̧̩̲̹͙̼͚̥͑͌̿͜͠y̴̡̪̲̟̗̣̘͉̘̘̥̣͙̣̯̦̱̖͔͗̅̌̓̋̓̏͌̎̅̏̿̚͘͜͝w̷̡̡̙̪̱͖̰̭̯̯̘͇͚͙͇͎̝̗̺̬̍̀̐͌͛̇̔̐͋̈̀̅̍̋́̂̆̂͊̓̍͑̚͠ḣ̸̢̢̢̦̹̱̥̖̻̫̱͙̝͌͗̀̓̾͊͐́́̓̿̄́̋̏͋̚̕͘͜ͅy̴̧̛̛̳͍̩̱̖͇̹̺͚͈̺͚̖̰͑̓̈́̒̄̅́͌̐̾͛̆̂͠w̵̧̡̠̦̗͕̩͔̃͛̾̋̀͊̆̇̔͂͘ͅh̸̢̛͖̟̠̗̜̥̰̙̱̀͂͌́͋͌̍̇͌̓͑͌̈y̶̨̢̨̡̫̺̝͈̩̰̼̘͖̮̥̦̬͉͕̯̼̹̋̈̇̐̓̏̐͛͛̀͝w̷̨̛͉͇̜̱̞͈̮̞̮̜̞̲͎̺̲̌̒̍̀͋͑̄̿̄̒̃́̌͛̋̕̕̚͜ͅḩ̴̡̻͎̼͖͓̬͈̬͔͈̹̙̖͖̂̇̆̌̓̀͊́̆͛̅̐́̇̄͜ÿ̸̨̢̠̖̰͔̝̠̦̮̩͖̖́̃̓ẁ̵̛̳̥̥͇͌͑̓̈́͌̒̾̂̐̈̿̉̋̔̈́̚͝h̵̡̟̭̟͇͇̬̅̄͑̏̇̍́́̓̔͛̓̈́̌͒̄̅̈́̽̈́̚͝͠y̷̡̩̲̲̘͎͗̏̌͒͝ẅ̷̰͉́̾̒̆͛̌͑̔̏̽̀̅͛̂͝͝͝͝͠ḩ̶̢̛̛̩̳̜̠͈̫̩̞͍͕̻̙̳̹̫̞͓̱̊̏̈́̂̏͌̾̑̋͊̏̑̈́̔̀͒̈́͆́͋͘͘y̸̡̱̩̘̭͙͕͚͍͆́̈́̾̓̌̿͊̌̀̅͊w̸̼͉̘̙̘̩̯͕̠͉͎̱͎̑̏h̸̻̻͓̆̑̄̆̿̌̓̉̂͂̐͛̆̓̓͘̕͝y̵̧̛̯̜̬̤͍̬̪̟͉̞͓͒̏͗͊̈́͗̿͆̽́͂̀͐̍́̚͘ͅw̴̧̡̟̣̠͉̮͕̥̤͎̱͒́̿̈́͋̽̈́͂͛̄͜h̴͇͖͓́̏̅̉̄͋̿͌͜͝y̷̨̺̩̲̟̰͈̩̻͔̺̹͉̜̔̎̃̄̀͌̍͜͝w̵͙̘͍̻̰̥̹̲̰̪̪̿̃̆̀͆̾̒̋̓̐̏͊͘̕͜h̶̭̬̹̘̝͖̭̭̗̎̏̾͂y̵̨̰̗̳̱̹̘̭̹̦̼̗͍͕̠͖͙͉̩̠͕̜͍̰̆͗͑̽̂͒̆̈́̓̀̓͑́̄̈́̈́̽͘w̵̛̥̼͉̅̊͑̿̾̀̐͗̅̓͐͘̚͝h̶̡̛̻͉͖͎̪̻̬̮̜̥̞̫̤̬͎̜̹̒͒̿͐̓̌̚ý̴͉̫͂͒͝ͅw̷̨̢̡̙̼̗̜̼͈̘͍̺̲͎̰̥̬̺̲͛̑̈́͊͂ͅh̴̡̨̻͍̤͙̤͇̞̉̄̒̑͆̔̅̾͐͛̉̉̿͋̏̌̈́̔͛͝y̶̨̨̳̪̲̺̟̣͕̥̱̼̝̮̳̻̦̯̺̼͒͑̔͊͌̂̑͊̿̾̉̌͌̒̇̏̓̅͘͜͠͠͠ͅw̸̡̡̦͓̣͙̠͙̮̯̱̬͍͔̤̩͓̤͆͑̀̂͆̈́̅͑͘̚͜͜͜h̵̡̢̖͇̜̘̗̤͔̣͎̟̟̱̫̳̘̜͚̣͇̖͊̕ͅͅy̸̡̢̧̟̭͕̺̪̜̩̤̺̯̘͉͖̭̥͉̐̄ͅw̷̨̻̱̮͇̪̤͎̰̲̯̪͊̓̒̓̏̒̾͋̍̈́̾̋̐͒̓͘͜͝ͅh̵̨̧̻̲̺̬̦̞̮̮̝̫̻̳̮͕̰̤̩́̈̔̓͛̉̈́̀̀̓̀͐̔̍͒̿͝͝͝͠͝ͅy̴̡̖̝͎͇̣̥̪̭͎̼̭̫͋̔̌͆̆̋̈́́͋́̔̈̏͆̃͗̇̍̒͘͝͠
ẘ̷̢̢̢̥̩̙̙̝̞̞̜̟̼̩̘͎̆̾̆̾͗̔͌́ḧ̶͓̯̳̝͙͚̟͕̣̥͉͚́̍̏̀͊̎͛̍̾̅́̓͂̿͠͠͝͝y̸͓͖̙̣͚̳͓̭̺̩͈̭͉̟͛̃̇̍͌̃̎̄̀̌͑͐̄̃͋̌̐̚̕͝w̴̢̯̹͓̺̳̹̩̣͍̪͚͖̻̻̮̯͐͊̀͊̕͜͝h̵̢̢̧̺̠͓̬͈̼͙͙̦̼̮̩͙̙̩̬̫͙̞̓͐̋́͆̌̃̄̌̚͘y̶̗̯͉̪̖͙͚͈̫̝̪̣͉͉̎̽̾̔̅̐̒̇̀̉̽̔͑͑̑̚͜͝͠w̷̢̧̯͚͇̺̹̪̫͚͛̔̋̔̂͑̀̀̋̒̆̈́̉̋͋̃̅̀́̚͘̚ḩ̶̢͙͙̞̖͔̥̙͇̣͉̲̣̞̅̇͛͊̑̿̏̀̽̄̄̈́̅̉̏͊̓̚͝͝ÿ̷̨̛̼̫̰̮̱̝͔͉͙̻̰́͋̂̌̂͐̾̈́̄̈́͂̀̅̽̈́̊̆̕̕͠w̶̨̡̡̛̛̛͈̠̝̣̗̹͛̍͂̈́̐̋̋́̿̋̇̏̾̉͋̕͠͠ͅh̵͕̏͆̓y̸̢̧̹̠͇̩̩̙̥̱̪̰̗̙̦̤̟̖͓̤͓͙̼̔͒̋̆̌͑́̅͝w̶̛̛̭̺̮̮͙̮̹̩̻̏̈̋̃͒̂͊̈́̑̏͊͊̍̈́͜͠ḩ̵̡̹̤̫͔̭̼̓͂̓̊̉͘͘y̴̨͎͙̻͈͓̩̰̮͓͍͔͈̭͍̳̯̙̹̍͐͑̓́̋̌͋͗͑̈́̒͝w̷̖͍̫̋̊̇ḧ̴̛̬̥̖̜͖̫̖̗͕̻͎́͗̆̎̑̈̐͐̂̔͗͝͠ͅy̸͖̜̣͖̫̰͚̺̠̥̩̿̔̃̋̈́̎͆͊̄̋̓w̴̨̻̪̗̙̙̣̾̓̉̉̉̇̓̅̈́̒̄̚h̷̢̡̞̱̰̘͙͍̪̼͈̲̤̞̹͖̯̦͖̟̞͛̾̓̈̀̒̀̚͜y̴̧̨̧͈͈̺̮̦̯̺̪̙̩̞̥̱̻̾̏̈́̊̉́ͅẘ̵̢͈͈̱̺͍̳̟̝͒̆̂̍h̵̛̜̠̪͓̙̯̹̖̼͛̇̓͆́̊̀̀͋͐̃̓͌̆́̕͝͝ͅy̶̞̗̺̤̫̙̤͖̺͈͕͇̙͒̔̇̐̾͛͋͗̀̔͊̆͊͐̎̆͆̈̓̃͛̇̅̚w̴̨̛̛̺̖̳̤̤͈͛͌̑̿̋̎̀̊̋̏͆͌͐͛̌͂̚͠͠ȟ̸̤̫̤͙͓͈̏̉̎̔̉̽̓͛̑͐̌̿̆̐͗̋̏͆͂̆y̷̡̧͔̗̩͙̻̜͔̪̹̮̼̲̋̈́̓͊̇̒̓̽̾͗͋̐͊͘͘͘͝͝͠ẘ̸̧̼̻͈̖̩͖̖̜̜̠̹͓̯̞̝̹̼̗́̅̔͐̄͘ḩ̴̮̩̥̦̎̀̈́̕͝ỷ̵̨̧̛͎̱̰̝̟̗̳̠̯̳̭̥̖̱͖͔̖͉̝̞̘͒̔̐̈̊̋̔̔̑̃̉̿͐͑̔̿͗̔̍̎̎͘ẅ̷̛͉̇̑͊̓̀̽̑̄̅̑̀̎̍̆̀̌̚̕̕͝͠ḣ̵̢̧̜̯̦̪͉̿̈̈̿̿̒̿̆̍͒͋͒͒̇̔̈́̕̕͘͝͝ÿ̸̡̨̢̛̮̥͉̩̩̦͍̼̞̥͎̼́͛͋̂͛̔͊̆́̈͘̕ͅw̴̨̼̰̝̳͔͔̖̘̣̖͖̒͘͝h̵̨̨̥̯̟͓̺̞̟̮̜͕̩̯̜̠̪͂̋̓̆͆͌̐͐̏̆̌̎̊͌̅̕͝ͅy̴̨̛̟͔̪̣̠̹̖͔̲̺̹̟̖̼̯͍̖̱̜̍́͗̈́̈́͐͗̀̌̑̔͒̂̍͠͝ẅ̶̢̠͍̱̺̫́̐̄͌͋̒ḧ̶͉̙͚̥́̈́͂͌̆̂̑̑̚̚͜͝y̵̡̟͍̻̝̮͕̖̼̌͆̆͐͆͌̆̽̂̆̓ͅw̸̨̟̭͈̖̬̝͂̀́̃̈́̔̿͝h̴̛̳͔͇͍̑̾̋́̽̿̈́́̑͊͌̎̋̄́̕y̶̦̪͍͇̮̥͎̌͜ẃ̵̢̠͔̭̹̮̊̓̂̈̎͆ḧ̵̢͖̹̮̜͙̪̳̖̟̟̩͚̹̳̰̳̤̠̯̗̲͙́͋̓̒̈́̓̓̒̽̄̆̀͐̽̃̅͛̚͘̚͝ͅy̷̡͕̩͚̞̑͐͑̚̚ẉ̴̢̛̘̖̞̳͍͎̥̭̟͎̳̣̗̦̝͔̮̓͂̂̾̊̽̽͊͗̊͠ͅh̶̫̲̟̜̭͙͓͉͇̗̤̑̍͊͐͒͋͋̊̏̒̚͝y̷͖̙̬͈͙̻̥͙̻̺̙͕̳̼͍̦͆́͊̑͌̈́̒̈͗̔̈̓̈́̇̀̇̆͗̑͐͊͋͘͝w̷̘̜̌́̆͊́͌̆͌͒͗̎̚͘͠͝ḥ̶̢̢̡̣̲͖̜̰̭͚̰̣̯͈̟̜̈́̔͗͜͜ͅͅy̸͉̖̹̹̲͉͓̠̗̜̿̒̇͜ẉ̷̨̥͇̺̘̭͕̠̦͔̥̥̀̆̆̓͊͊͗̍̈̈́̈́̐̐̐̉͜͠
h̵̡̢̲̺̮̲̱̰͙̭̲̖̜̣̭̩͈͛̒̎̆͆̋̐̑̒̉̎̕ỳ̵̨̳̭̜̻̳̝̻̳̹̒͐̈́̉̆͑̅̍̿̀̎͜͠w̶̨̪͈̤̟̰̳̫̖̗̙̤͚̺̳͌̾̀̍̎̔͊̅́͐̾̽̌͌͌̈̃̔̅̌͝ȟ̴̤̀̌̉͋͆y̴̞̦̥̮̝͍͓̻͇̪͖̳͍̬̏́̎̄̇͋̎̆̈̋͋̈́w̷̨̡̨̧͖̝̹̣̯̬̺͈͉͓̙̗̗̒̊̏̈́̀̆̈̓̒͐́̄̈́̚͜͜͠h̵̨͖̙̩̲̣̭̹̠͔̙̖͕͓̭̅͌͌̈́́͌̿̄̄͐̑͊̏́͘ÿ̷̖̬͇̺͍̻͇̞̩̫̪̻̥̼̜̗̟̞̙̲̼͔̫́́̆̍̎͑̇͗̇̾̋̕ẇ̷̧̪̤̱̘̩̯̣̠̘̍́̓̓́͌̀̇͘ḩ̸̢̺̘̰̙̰̭͈̬̻̦̰̜͙̰͚̤̩͍̳̖͚̝̂͊́̃̒̀͊͌͌͂y̶̢̨̧̼̟͖̱͙̳͚̹̰͇̺̪̘̻̱̼̼̼̬͓̱̌̅̉ŵ̶̧̜͉͎̖̩̙̰͈̪̣͚̮̲̞͓̙͕̰̇͊̀̑͋̊̈́͗̓̌̍͂̊̓̇̊ḩ̵̛͈̜͚̱͉̼̗̹̼͚͖͍̩͌̆̈́̇͂́̒̌̒̌̌́̅͊̆̀̋͗̎͌̑̒͝y̵̢̢̨͇̙̜̪̺͇̭͙̔w̵̨͉̣̭̟̫̘̝̳̻͎̣͖̯̠͖̳͛̍̇̇̓̀̋͊̈́̅̾́̏̃̄̄̕͘͠͝h̶̢̞͈͉̯̦̟̤͇̙͈̫̟͎̜̗̮̤̪̖͙̉͌̅̉̽̾́͐̋̄̌̉̿̓͑͐̚͘ͅy̸̨̢̨̧̢̮̭̹̻͍̞̪̦̞͔̺͚̰̞͊̈́͜͝w̸̧̨̡̱͙̰͔̹̫̖̭̖͔̞̹͒͂́͒͒̂͗̓̓̓̊̽̅͝ḩ̸̛̛̹̜̪͚̯͚̠̤̪̭̿̍̇̂̑̀̐̍̂̅͌͂̐͒͊̈́̒͘͝y̵̨̦̮͍̹̯͖̦͍̠͎̠͓͓̘̐̽͐̓̔̎̀̿̂̓̀̒̆̅̚͠ͅw̴̨̡͇̪̳̲̬͚͎̼̺̟̩̣̭̯̭̳͔̺̜̅͌̉̿́̑̓͊͆̈́̈́͑̄̈̌̄̃͠h̴̢̧̫̲͚̼̹̯̩͈̳̲͉͈̹̙̺̬̪̘́̈͊͌́͊̌͒̌̓̎̄̔͒̽͂̀͆͝͠͝y̸̢̢̡̥͉͓̠͓̰̤̻͉̠̩͉̹͚̞̮͉͚̹̋̇̇̋͌͊̊͌͋͒͗̊̏͜ẁ̸̡̗͇̩̠̭̪͎͍̽̑̂͐̈́͒̈͘h̵̢̗͚̠͉͙̥͎͎̦̻̮̞͕̳͔̳̭̥͙͆̄͑̿̒̆̈́ỷ̸̨̡̰͖͇͙̜̭̣̗̯̳̠̦͎̦͔̤̽̓̔́̈͂͂̃̀̿̒͑̅̏̇̕͜͠w̷̡̡̹̩͈̹̺͇̗͇̦͙̦̭͕̟̪̲̅͛̔͆̑͂́̍̾̐ḧ̴̨̠͕̖̭͎͚̝́́͊͗̂͌̉̓̓̀͋̚y̷̨̡̧̢͎̺͈̲̪̻̥̹̲͐͊̍͋̓͒̏̋̂́͗͆̒̔̈́͒̔̓͜͝͝͝w̵̢̧̗̩̹̦̬͕̤̰̫̳̻̮̥̖̦̖̟̼͎͒̈̆̆́̌̑͛͜͠͠͝͝ḩ̷̛̜̗͎̙̦͙̲̱́̿̎͛̽̋͌̄̕͠y̵̛͍̟̞͎̟̯̲͙̞̻̗̤̬̼͑̍̅̈̆́͋̌̉̈́̓̍ͅẅ̵̨̨̛̼̫̭̜͈̪̘̳̖͍̳̤̲̽̎́̍̇͋̇̆͑͌̒́͂̈̽̂͛̑͜͝h̸̨̨͙͕̘͍̤̱̣̣͈́̔̈́̅̌͝ÿ̷̡̬͕̣͓͇̖̱̤͈̟̙͔̖̞͚̿̅̊͋͝w̷̳̤̦̦͙͕̯̍̋̊̔͌̂͊͐͝h̵̡̢̢̧̘̪̼̰̤͎̪͍͉̭̜̞͈͕̲̺̮̠̐̿͑͛̀̏̍̋͜͜͝͝ŷ̶̧̱̲͍̀́̅̾̍̀̌͛̓͠ẅ̷̢̛̻͑̈̏̋̅̃͋̆̏̓̈́̇̒̿̋̏͋͐̾̚͘͝h̷̥͍͓̲̓̽͊̿̾̈́y̷̘̙̮̩̌̃̉̓͊̓̂̽̌̆͛̅̃̅̎̚͠w̶͇̼̠̙̮̟̗̳̽͒̓̊̍̓̍͜ḩ̷̢̝͎̫͔̟͚͚̺̲̺͍̜̤̳̯͕̰̔̇̃̑͆̓̅̀͌́͋̾̒͘͝͝ͅỹ̸̧̨̨̧̘̳̱̮̹̳̼̫̼̗̻̝̰̝̠͈̱̞͓̭̾̊͑̔̔̄̉͛̾̈́͊̏̚͠͝ẃ̶̨̨̲̭̻̮̣̯͖̰̳͚̖͚͓͕͕̹͜h̸̡̦̪̗͙͎͓̞̺̝͈̗̦̭͔̘̤͎̆̿͌̈́͂̇̇̒͋̊͒̑̀̓͋͌͂̑͊̉̒͜͝͠ͅy̶͍̏́w̵̛̛̬͎̤̦̼̬̼̯͖͈̬̳̜̰̞͚͎͈͗́̅̽̀̓̏̇̓́̈́̑̒͋͐͌͑̉͐͝͝ͅh̶̨̢̢̗̜͇̳̺͍̰̳̫͉̫͍͖͎̥̭̪̮̯͆̈́͆̊̽͌̎̓̽̑̒͐̚̚ỷ̶̨̛̩̻͍̺̽̇̋̃̇̀̐͌̇̈́͗͆̋̊̒̕͝͝w̵̯̭̥̜͉̤̱̦̮͔̦̲̅̄̎̿̀́͑̏̀͆̇̂͆͝ḩ̴̢̡̛̛̫̳̘̞̟͍͎͇̮͇̥̬̬̣̩͇́̇̔̆̊́̿͗͋̈́̅̀͋̇̇̽́̒̎̇̚̕ͅy̴̨̧̢̛͖͉͇̞̖̣͎͇̼̫̻͇̮̙̼̳͈̐͌̋͂̊̈́̄͐̌͐̄͗͜͝͝ͅw̸͈̬͈͈͈̺̳̘͈̥̪͖͈̹͙̣̖̱̙͈̏̍̀̉̎̍́̿͗͌͒̀͋́͊̀̋̇͋̕͜͠͠͠h̸̨̧̩̲̹͙̼͚̥͑͌̿͜͠y̴̡̪̲̟̗̣̘͉̘̘̥̣͙̣̯̦̱̖͔͗̅̌̓̋̓̏͌̎̅̏̿̚͘͜͝w̷̡̡̙̪̱͖̰̭̯̯̘͇͚͙͇͎̝̗̺̬̍̀̐͌͛̇̔̐͋̈̀̅̍̋́̂̆̂͊̓̍͑̚͠ḣ̸̢̢̢̦̹̱̥̖̻̫̱͙̝͌͗̀̓̾͊͐́́̓̿̄́̋̏͋̚̕͘͜ͅy̴̧̛̛̳͍̩̱̖͇̹̺͚͈̺͚̖̰͑̓̈́̒̄̅́͌̐̾͛̆̂͠w̵̧̡̠̦̗͕̩͔̃͛̾̋̀͊̆̇̔͂͘ͅh̸̢̛͖̟̠̗̜̥̰̙̱̀͂͌́͋͌̍̇͌̓͑͌̈y̶̨̢̨̡̫̺̝͈̩̰̼̘͖̮̥̦̬͉͕̯̼̹̋̈̇̐̓̏̐͛͛̀͝w̷̨̛͉͇̜̱̞͈̮̞̮̜̞̲͎̺̲̌̒̍̀͋͑̄̿̄̒̃́̌͛̋̕̕̚͜ͅḩ̴̡̻͎̼͖͓̬͈̬͔͈̹̙̖͖̂̇̆̌̓̀͊́̆͛̅̐́̇̄͜ÿ̸̨̢̠̖̰͔̝̠̦̮̩͖̖́̃̓ẁ̵̛̳̥̥͇͌͑̓̈́͌̒̾̂̐̈̿̉̋̔̈́̚͝h̵̡̟̭̟͇͇̬̅̄͑̏̇̍́́̓̔͛̓̈́̌͒̄̅̈́̽̈́̚͝͠y̷̡̩̲̲̘͎͗̏̌͒͝ẅ̷̰͉́̾̒̆͛̌͑̔̏̽̀̅͛̂͝͝͝͝͠ḩ̶̢̛̛̩̳̜̠͈̫̩̞͍͕̻̙̳̹̫̞͓̱̊̏̈́̂̏͌̾̑̋͊̏̑̈́̔̀͒̈́͆́͋͘͘y̸̡̱̩̘̭͙͕͚͍͆́̈́̾̓̌̿͊̌̀̅͊w̶̨̨̡̨̨̦̼̼̪̘̣̦̥̲̣̺̗̜͆̏̌͆͂̉́͊͆̅̃̎̽́̽̒͐͛͊̈́̈̕̕̕̕͝͠͝͝��̴̡̧̹̰̦͕̝̝̻̜̘̗͈̦̭͎̫̞̼̹̺͓̞͓͔́͒̊̆̈́̃͑͘͝͝y̵̨̬̻̯̭̺̫̬̙͉̌͋̑͌͐̒͐̒̐̽̿̔̽͋͝͝͠w̸̡̡̧̧̧̛̩̠̮̩̰̼̯͍̤̘̻̲̦̙̭͍̥͖͚̘̥͉̃̐̀̀̒̒̐͒̕͜͝͝h̵̛̞͙͓̖̞͎̱̿͆͛̌͋͗̅̒̑̅̔̀̏͛͌͌̉̆̀̊͊̕͜y̴̭̹̞͓̞̥̬̓͂̓̌͐̔w̷̢͓͇̭̺̟͇̩͖͉̹͇̲̪͕̝̫͙̰̪͓͕̪̻͗̈́̽̂̌͆̋̄͌͒̉́̄͌̃͑̅̍͒̾͒̐́̄̆̅̓͛̾͗̚̕̕̚͜͜͝h̷̨̦̻̝̖͝ẏ̸̛̰̹̦͚͔́̋̆̈́̔͆̑͌͂̈́̓̉̂͐͗̌͐̈̅̏̇̉͌̀̀̊̍̕͘͝͠͝͠ẃ̸̧̞̰͙͈͓̦͈͇̘̯͖̱͎̰͇̲̥̮̭̤̀̽̈́̍̉̈̌̈́̀̎̆̚̚͘͠͝ḧ̵̡̢̨̺͍̪͇̟͍̯͍̩̜̘͎̞̟̼̠̮̮̹̥̠̼͙̫̤̙̰̻̗̺̄͒̈̌̓͛̐͑̀́͛̓͊̿̀̀̈́̉̆̚͝ͅy̴̛̗̻̙̫̞̹̬̬͓̖͖̼̘̟̬̬̘̬̳̜̦̫̥͇̖͒̈̋̑̕ͅͅͅw̴̨͈͉̝̫̻̥̯̦̜̱͕̗̫͙̩͇̳̱̘̟͕̫͔̜̘̥͖̲̘̺͈̺̦͗͒́̇̎̌͆͊͘͜h̸̢̛̖̖͍͓̳͖̥̻̝̪̬͇̱̺̠͙̗͙̗̐͌̀͜͜͠ͅỵ̴̨̧̧̧̝͚̥͍̜̞̩̳̺̭̩̜̳̺̮͇̻̦̙̃̄̇̂̒͗̾̄̚ẅ̶̨̢͇͚̞͇͇̫̫̫͉̖̮̯́͊̈̀̓̊̋̐̓̆͑̊̎̄͛͒̂̂̊͒͆̈́̋͘̕͝͠h̶̨̨̛̯͚̳͉͓͔̲̮͈̥̦̻͎̖̮̹̅͋͌̇̈́̀͂́͌̐̄͋̀̄́̄̿̈̉̈́̍͂̅̃͌̈́̕͘͠͝͝͠ͅͅͅẏ̵̢̢̧̧̡̛͍̫̫̱͈̪̝̥̹͈̗̻̟̞͖̯͔̙͔̜̦̳̪̀̇̈̓͛̂̓͑͋̒̔̊̈́͛́̊̈́̕͜͜͝͝w̸̧̡̧̨̡̢̜͎͈̹͍͔̯̖̟̱͕̬͇͉̠̺̭͇̞̻̌͗͌͊̇̓h̴̨̖͎̝͚̔̓̆̒́͐̂́͗̀̓̂͊̃̓͌̈́̾͂̋̓̄̑̕̚͝ŷ̴̡̡̭̮̼͉̹̘̦̳̘̼͚̩͎̞̃͌̊̏̽̉̎̈́̍̉̈́͒̑̀̐́͑̿͗̉̓̉̐̈́̃̑̅̇͗͘͘̕͜͝͠ͅẅ̸̡̤̱̲̙̞̤̼́͋̓̀̄̉́̋͒̚͘͝͝͝h̶̛͈̫̬̿̀̄͌̍̏̅̏́̓͆̄̄̈́̀̾͂̀̂̏̂̅̕͘y̷̧̢̛͇̘̥̘̩͙̤̠̠̬̻̥̬͚͖̲̭̦͎̳̒͑̄̒͗́̎͌̋̇̅̀̍̎̒̔̈͝ẁ̶̩̠̼͖̙͓̊̒̾̋̔͌̚h̷̛͖̠̑̂̈̀͌̅̂̊̌͂͋͛͗̂̇͠ý̶̡̨͉͈͓̻͕̠̘̤̳̤̫͖̣̟͊͝ͅw̵̢̧̡̮̣̤͓̯̩̖͈̯̠̬̤̫̞̬͉̣̥͋̍̀̽͑͌͗͂́̍͌̐̊͒̍̋̐̾̑̓̓͊̍̆̅͐̚͘̚͘̕͜͝ḩ̵̧̨̢̲̯̝̪̥͇͎̙̦̫͕̝̼̻̙̮̞̞͙̱̬̮̘͙͕̲́̅̓̄̏͗̈͆͋͌̐͗͊̈́͑͗͌͒̓̾̓͂̈̀̿̈́͗̇̈́͐̚̕̚͜͜͝y̷̡̧̨̢͚̗͕̪̙͉̤̮̝͙͈̞̪̝̝͖̭̱̖͚͈̥̣̳̩̞͐͐͗͗̅̓̈́̂̈̾̋̏̂̓͛̿̍͂̆͗̕͝w̵̠͙͕̅̈͐̄͛̈̊͊͆͘h̵̡͖̣̪͍͎͍̘̳̺̩̥͇͋͆y̸̨̧̹̮͚̩͎̰̥̞͎̞̬̯̲͙̝̭̯͚̰͔͈̣̪̟̪͉̙̻͋̒̐̽͑̄̈̓̍̀͂̍̿̂͘͜͠
w̶̡̡̨̙̞͕̬̣̯̮̤̖̣̗̘͍͎͚̔̊̓̿ḣ̴̨̨̨̖̺͖̞̞̫͈̳̞̻̜̪̬̰̖̥͇͚̗̺̥̳͉̪̙̜̄̀͑̓͛̾̓͋̈͒͊̊̃̾̇̋̐̒͝͝͝y̸̰̬̜̺͉̙̤̻̜̼̬̥̩͉̟̲̫̞̕ͅw̵̨͓̭̩̩̳̟͖̰̠͓̘̫̘̱͙̱͈̮͓͙͓̣̱͚̰̠̟̣̹͗͜ḩ̸̢̘̘̝̙͎̫̞̟̫͓͖̣̬̘̹̆̐y̴̧̳̯͙̺̙̞̯̩̭̫̾̄͛̓́̌̑͒̂́̓̒̈́̅̀̐̌̅̓̕͜w̴̨̢̢̮͓͙̹͉̬̤͔̺̪̪̥̘͒̍̆͋̎͐̓̍̓́̽̾̀́̎͂͘͘͝ͅh̸̨̧̢̩͈͈̤͚̫̫̼̯̱̝̠̯̲͎͇̖̟̫̼͖̗̒́̄̈́͛̈͆͒̔̊̐͜͝͝y̶̧̧̻̼̩̻̦̬͓͈͇͛̃̾̀̿̾͒̿̓̈͆͊̈͆͑̆̂̆̂́͂͂̊͘͜͝͝͝͝ͅẅ̸̫̱̮̪̖̣̑̈́̚ͅḩ̶̧̨̡̘̞̬͔̱͓͕͙͉͙̝͚̺̤͉̦͇̋͐̓̇̂̈̃̃̈́̌̆̂̆̏̓̃̀́̒̎̊̈́́̌͘͘͝͠͠ͅÿ̴̨̭̝͓́̔̆͑̑̈̂̋̐̽͑͒̋̔̇̍̑̈͘͠w̴̨͙̱͉̫͖̹̻͈̪̮̆ḧ̷̡̬̬͈̗̲͕͚̯̩̬͚̺̖̞̹̫̥͔̩ͅy̸̨̢̮̳̟̰̣͚͇̤͛̉̐͒̋̈́̅͆̉͗͊̐͘͜͠w̸̨̨̛̤̮͓͎̪̞͔̦̖̪̜̗̻̤̣̥̫̬̰̯̤̦͎̮̟͌͑͛̈̄͐͋̒͌̓̉͐̍̌̈́̒̋̈́̀͌̓͘͝͠͝ͅͅh̵̨̢͎̖̘̣͔̺̱̗̘̳̥̘̖̘̳̘̻̻͔͙̩̥͙̫͉͎̏̄̇̇̐̏̽̓͂̾͌͂̾̽̍̌͂̏̉̌̐͛̊̚̕͠͠ỳ̶̢̡͚̳̟̦̟̀̅̓͋̋̒̈́̋̿̑̅͊͑̈́͛̎̀̎͒͘͝͝͠͝w̶̡̨̧͙͇̲͍͚̞̞̠̦̠̻̯̬̣̩̬̬̼̏̈̿̔̾̋̈́̀͆̄̆̎̐̎̽͛̚͜͜͜͝͝ͅĥ̴̡̡̤̥̯͈̦͔̼̟̱̻̪̭̝̎͂̈́̑̕y̷̨̨̧̢̡̡̱͎̯͇̭͚̲̗̞̻̬͚̞̳͍̭̯̣̞̾̈̐́͛̽͊͊̕̕ͅw̷̢̨̢̡̦͕̥̖͉̞͍̱̮̪͍̱͇̪̘̬͕̤̟͇̭͎̟̩̝͉̞͊͗́̆̎̇̈́͒̆̐͆̀́͛͛̐̎̔̑̋͌́̈͘̚͜͝͝͠͝h̸̢̟͓̲̦͖̞̤̫̹̲̟̠̱̯͓̘̭͕̊͑́͊̍̂͛͗y̴̢̡̡̢͇̖͚̹̭̗̝̙̜̭̯͇͈̯͌͒͌̓͊͗̔͂̓͊̀̔͐̾́̍̀̇́̊͋̽̓̿͑͘͝͠ͅw̶̨̛̘͇̘̺̥̖̥͚̦͇̱͈̩̳̤̤̰̤̮͙̬̫̓̏͊̃̀̏̇̏̔̋͆̎̒̈̏̏̆̀͗͛́̔̈͆͊͂͒̇͘̚͜͠ͅh̷̡̧̡̫͚̲̣̹̘͓͙͕̼͓̩̻̪̥͓͎̣͚͇͖͙̟͈̳͚̻͆̐̈́́̑͆̃̎͗̃̃̈͛̀́͐̓͗̈̌͋̉̄́̂̚͠͝͝͝ý̶̧͖̄͑͊w̶̢̡̯̳̭̘̲͓̞̳̻̗͔͉͙̤͎͖̥̲̥͆̀̅̐̓̒̈́̏̔̋̓̿̌͒̊̊͒̚͜͜͠͝͝ḩ̷̨̦͖͓̣͎̭̰̰̞͖̹͎̫͔̮̩̪̩̖͚̘͔̟͔͎̝̼̲̙̐̏̑̓̒͊̐̉͆͒͐̅͆̃̄͂͊̕͜ͅͅͅy̶̧̛̛̗̝̞̽͆̑̓͋́͊͒͊̐̈́͐͊̒̾̐̈̊̈́͂͘͘͘͘͜͝ẘ̸̨̧̨̡̢̡̳͔͙̹̲̟͓͎̥̼͇̫̤̺̜̝̼̦͍̼̠̩̝͌̐̎͊͊ͅh̸̡̧̗̝̣̺͚̞̟́̀̽̎͌̏̃͋͑̌̃̑̏͆̓̀͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝y̴̡̧̡̩̤͚̱̮̦̹̰̫̜̩͕̪͙͓̦̟̹̟̲͍̥̮̳̗̐͒̾̽̉̓̇̇̏̇̊̏̍̔͊̚͝͠ͅw̷̢̢̠̬̩̭̝͙̯̙͎̥͎̙̯̣̠̓̅̌̇̊̓̾̂̽͑̌̈́̂̽͠͠h̸̛̲̮͚͍͒̇̒̀́͌͐̿͒̔̎̓̌̇̃͘͝͝͠͝ẏ̴̧̨̖͚͙̹̥̣̗̝͚̯̣͓͉̞͖̣̬̬͚̳̘̞̫ͅw̴̧̢̛̥̰̬͙͇͓͙̏̓̌̋̄̒̓̿̊̈́̎̂̾̄͊͗̀̉́͛̈́̈̽̃͠h̷̢̝̪̦͖̬̣̜̰̱̜͎̘͖̹̲͍̠̥͖̩̓̏͒̀͒̌̐̓͗̈́̋ͅy̸̡̢͕̹̎̿̀̋̀̈́̍͐̂͆͑͐͂̆͌̋̀̏͜͝ͅw̸̧̪̣̬̹̟͈̲̗͙̤̰̩̼̞̥̭̲͉̮̖̫͒͐́͒͆̔̄̀͋͜͝ḩ̶̢̝̘͖̤̼̞̙͔̙͎̻̖͙̖̺͚̱̫͈̹̄͊͋͌̍̋̈́̍͊̈́̊͂͐̑͆̋̿̐̔̌̂̚̕͜͜͝y̵̧̘̰̥̩̠̬̥̦͂́͒̉w̴͉̒̑́́͛̈́ͅh̵̛͙̥̊̊̌̽͊̉̏̇̀̉͗̋̄͋̈́͐̾̅̒͌̿̑̑̋̽̌̃̾̆̈y̵̡̢̨̢̧̗̤͎̜̬̤̩͓̠̘̖̬͚̣̣̤͖̯̺̩̤̥̜̳̙̠̗͂̔̏̇͗̈́̌͗̎̋̚w̶̛̯̋̽͛̏͑͆̊͋̒̂̽͋͒̋̆̂̋̐h̷͇͈̞͔̤͎̿̄͜͜y̷̨̨̡̨̛̻͙̞̩̩͚̹̠͕̖̻̝̯̥̖͇̜̱͕̪͕̘̘͎̓̿͐͑̈́͌́͋̈́̌̿̾̒̓͘͘̚͜͜͜ͅw̴̧̨̨̛̭̮̮̙̼̮̭̗̗̺̠̉̏̔͆͌̀̚̚͜ͅͅh̷̨̨̦̪̙̜̞͓̗̹͕̤̮͉̺̤́ͅͅỳ̶̧̡̢̺͕͕̺̻̳̂͂͆̍͛͛̉̈́̀̎͗̆͒͂̈́̈́̀̂̆͑̾̇̋̚͝ẇ̸͓͇͍͕̣́͆
h̶̨̡̼̲͍͙̖̩̰͓̤̝̺͇͕̘̓͆̈́̈́̔̀̈́͒̓͑̇͋̚̕͘͝͝y̷͇̼͍̞̦̲̯̝̤͔̹͆͊̑́͋̐̈̂́̕͠͝ͅw̴̡̗̳͑̌͗͊̒̽͌͝h̷̨̨̧̨̛͍̤͉̼͖̫̜̤̗̭̻̠̱̻͚̞͈̮̫͍͓̙̖̣̮͗̅́̿̉̉̑͜y̸̲̗͙̮͙̤̗͍̱̋̎̏̀̆̄͌̂͐͑͛̉͗̌̈́̒̎̚̕̚͠͝ẅ̴̡̘͖̱̱̲̖̖̣͍͈̥̙̮͖̥̹̼̈̒͒̒̀͛͋͂͗̀͆̈́̓̉̓̑̔̋͛̅́̆͗̚̕̕͜͠͠͝ḧ̸̨̛̛̺̰̞̹̬̪̮̗͙̫͖͔͚̻̖̱̯̳̫̩́͗́̓́͐͊̽̋̉̈́̈́͆̋̒͂̂͗́͛̅̍̌̾̌͝͝͝y̵̦͇͎̰̭̦̬̥̤͗͊ͅẃ̷̢̛̦̠͙̱̯̟̣̜͕̰̼̺̤̮̗̹͉̙̙̝̗͌̓͐̑͜ẖ̷̦̳̬͉̳̬̳̰́̑͒̈́͛̓͜ͅỹ̴̡̨̢͓̠̩̫̙̠͉̙͖̟̳̞̲̞͈̘͖̓͋̏̔̔͛̍̉̒̈̓̑̉̐̐̄͐̋̋̊̅͆̊̇̈̕̚̚͜͝w̴̢̧̨̨̨̨̛̦̬̥̙͓̥̣̰͎͎̗̲̗͍̟̖̠͇̞̦̟̫̲̺͑̆̏͛̃͛̈́̐̃̉̓̈́̒̉̌̅̐͊̒̔̓̆͘͠͝h̸̲͒y̷̡̧̨̡̞̣͕̞͖̖̬̦͉̜̤̬̖͕̫͚̺̭̦̙͇͎̹̍̏̔̅̈̀̒͒̆̓̿̍̀́̚̚̚͝ͅẃ̴̡̢̧͙̻̪̮̩̲͕̙̬̯͇͔̠̝͍͖̪̝̹̣͉̝͈̻͊̐͊͗̆̈́̄̑̒̕ͅh̷̡̻̰̮͓̩͖̮̣̫̻͍̞̾͋̂̅̓y̶͍̬̙͉̍͐͗̆͗̿̒̔̓͠w̴̡̛̼̳̙̭͔̮̠̤͖͈̘͔̗̫̦̙̬͚̦̼̳̺̓͋̆͌̿̀̊̈́̉̌̀̇̎̍̓͒̀͒͋͌̇́͐̋̈́̑̉́̉̔͊͠͝͠ͅḩ̴̢̧̛͙͍̰̤̦͓̜͚̱̖̮͔̤̩̰̜͓̎̍͗̓̃͆̆̒̀͛̔̀̀͘͝y̷̧̨̨̫̬̼̥͕̯̤͓͕͍̟͉̫̖͔̙̱̰̯͓̬͚̠̤͛̽̍̅͂͗͌̈́́̋́̃̈́̇̀͋͐͊͆̐̾̇̔͘̕w̵̫̓̈́̅̊͊͗̓̋́̋̈́͊̒́͆͌̑̾̒͛̚h̴̨̫̯̫̻̞͍̯͙̤̜̯͙̣̮̬̣̍͒̓̽͘͜͜y̵̡̛̞̤̰͎̜͚̯̺͍̻̲̖̠̞͕̩͓̰͙̰͚̗͖͋͗͊͒͑́͆́̐̂͒̊͛̋͝͠͝ͅw̸̧̭̲̩̗̳̜͚͉͔̪͕͇̬̰̙̻̙̬͖̱̠͇̱̦̦͈̥͇͎̯̅͆̑̇̈́̃̅͛́̌́͂̚ͅͅͅh̸̛̛͈͍͉̉̾̆͋̈́̊̇̃͆͒̅̌̿̀̋̋̎̈̿̀͛̐́͒̈̏͂̎̏͗͌̚͝y̸̨̨̢̨̫͙̼̻̜̞̼̝̦̬̦̫̺̱̯̯͚̲̳̫̱̹͚̠̖͇͔̮͛̄̓͌͒̏̄͐̾̿̏́̆̐̀͌̚͝ͅw̶̡̡̨̙̞͕̬̣̯̮̤̖̣̗̘͍͎͚̔̊̓̿ḣ̴̨̨̨̖̺͖̞̞̫͈̳̞̻̜̪̬̰̖̥͇͚̗̺̥̳͉̪̙̜̄̀͑̓͛̾̓͋̈͒͊̊̃̾̇̋̐̒͝͝͝y̸̰̬̜̺͉̙̤̻̜̼̬̥̩͉̟̲̫̞̕ͅw̵̨͓̭̩̩̳̟͖̰̠͓̘̫̘̱͙̱͈̮͓͙͓̣̱͚̰̠̟̣̹͗͜ḩ̸̢̘̘̝̙͎̫̞̟̫͓͖̣̬̘̹̆̐y̴̧̳̯͙̺̙̞̯̩̭̫̾̄͛̓́̌̑͒̂́̓̒̈́̅̀̐̌̅̓̕͜w̴̨̢̢̮͓͙̹͉̬̤͔̺̪̪̥̘͒̍̆͋̎͐̓̍̓́̽̾̀́̎͂͘͘͝ͅh̸̨̧̢̩͈͈̤͚̫̫̼̯̱̝̠̯̲͎͇̖̟̫̼͖̗̒́̄̈́͛̈͆͒̔̊̐͜͝͝y̶̧̧̻̼̩̻̦̬͓͈͇͛̃̾̀̿̾͒̿̓̈͆͊̈͆͑̆̂̆̂́͂͂̊͘͜͝͝͝͝ͅẅ̸̫̱̮̪̖̣̑̈́̚ͅḩ̶̧̨̡̘̞̬͔̱͓͕͙͉͙̝͚̺̤͉̦͇̋͐̓̇̂̈̃̃̈́̌̆̂̆̏̓̃̀́̒̎̊̈́́̌͘͘͝͠͠ͅÿ̴̨̭̝͓́̔̆͑̑̈̂̋̐̽͑͒̋̔̇̍̑̈͘͠w̴̨͙̱͉̫͖̹̻͈̪̮̆ḧ̷̡̬̬͈̗̲͕͚̯̩̬͚̺̖̞̹̫̥͔̩ͅy̸̨̢̮̳̟̰̣͚͇̤͛̉̐͒̋̈́̅͆̉͗͊̐͘͜͠w̸̨̨̛̤̮͓͎̪̞͔̦̖̪̜̗̻̤̣̥̫̬̰̯̤̦͎̮̟͌͑͛̈̄͐͋̒͌̓̉͐̍̌̈́̒̋̈́̀͌̓͘͝͠͝ͅͅh̵̨̢͎̖̘̣͔̺̱̗̘̳̥̘̖̘̳̘̻̻͔͙̩̥͙̫͉͎̏̄̇̇̐̏̽̓͂̾͌͂̾̽̍̌͂̏̉̌̐͛̊̚̕͠͠ỳ̶̢̡͚̳̟̦̟̀̅̓͋̋̒̈́̋̿̑̅͊͑̈́͛̎̀̎͒͘͝͝͠͝w̶̡̨̧͙͇̲͍͚̞̞̠̦̠̻̯̬̣̩̬̬̼̏̈̿̔̾̋̈́̀͆̄̆̎̐̎̽͛̚͜͜͜͝͝ͅĥ̴̡̡̤̥̯͈̦͔̼̟̱̻̪̭̝̎͂̈́̑̕y̷̨̨̧̢̡̡̱͎̯͇̭͚̲̗̞̻̬͚̞̳͍̭̯̣̞̾̈̐́͛̽͊͊̕̕ͅw̷̢̨̢̡̦͕̥̖͉̞͍̱̮̪͍̱͇̪̘̬͕̤̟͇̭͎̟̩̝͉̞͊͗́̆̎̇̈́͒̆̐͆̀́͛͛̐̎̔̑̋͌́̈͘̚͜͝͝͠͝h̸̢̟͓̲̦͖̞̤̫̹̲̟̠̱̯͓̘̭͕̊͑́͊̍̂͛͗y̴̢̡̡̢͇̖͚̹̭̗̝̙̜̭̯͇͈̯͌͒͌̓͊͗̔͂̓͊̀̔͐̾́̍̀̇́̊͋̽̓̿͑͘͝͠ͅw̶̨̛̘͇̘̺̥̖̥͚̦͇̱͈̩̳̤̤̰̤̮͙̬̫̓̏͊̃̀̏̇̏̔̋͆̎̒̈̏̏̆̀͗͛́̔̈͆͊͂͒̇͘̚͜͠ͅh̷̡̧̡̫͚̲̣̹̘͓͙͕̼͓̩̻̪̥͓͎̣͚͇͖͙̟͈̳͚̻͆̐̈́́̑͆̃̎͗̃̃̈͛̀́͐̓͗̈̌͋̉̄́̂̚͠͝͝͝
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ẃ̷̢̢̱̝̤̗̭͓̖̯̰̪̰͎̺͈̙͇̦̝̞̤̹͚̫͜͜h̷̢̧̨̨̧̡̧̫̺̟̫̘͉̜̖̼͓͕̜̥͚͓͓͇̳̹̲͔̩̳̱̹̉͐͋̍́͌̾͌̿̌̋̑̽̊̒̈́̇̄̍̃́̓̿͒̃̄̚̕͝͝͠͝y̴̨̧̨͈͎̗͉͕̥̬̻͔͎͚̣̞̭̳̻͖̻̬̮̼̖̩̱̲̹̑͛͛́̑͋̓̀͗̐̏̊̒̌͑̊̈́͠ͅw̶̢̧̢͖̜͎̮̬͓̗̝̹̓̿̉͌̏̇̀̇͗̓̕͜͠ͅh̵̡̧̧̛̥̠̝̭͚̗̩̼͔̐͐̅͒͛̈́͛͌̌̏̆͊̒̃̌̈́̄̆̅̈͑̌̀̚͝͝ỷ̴̧̡̫̜͈̹̳̺̖̟͛̈́͊̔̽̇̏͌̈́͘̕̕͝ͅẅ̶̛̪̙͔͉̪̣̝́͌̇̀͛́̍̃̎͛͐͆̌͊̀̀̍͐̃̊̐̍̑̚̕͠͝h̶͔͔͇̘͔̝͓̻͈̖͇͙̠̺̺͉͎̰̰̊y̸̧̢̧͓̭̺̖̯͎͔̝̰̼̳͓̝̯̟͖͇̞̯͋̓̋̽̾͊͂͛̀̓̿̊̇̈́̌̊̌̋́̃̔́̾̀̄͆̕͝͠͠͝ͅw̶̟̺̺̣̼̮̯̖̱̖̬̳̜̖͉̲̉͑́̄̄͑̌̽͊͂̈́̉̋͒͛̓͒͐̓̄̓̀̐͝͝͝͠ĥ̵̢̢͓̻̰̱̼͎̗̬͚͉̘̝̘̮̮̗̾̌͜͜͝ͅy̷̧̢̯̻̮̞͓͔̮̮͚̭̞͕̹̥͎̼̋͒̽̒̔̓̐̈́͑̂͊͋̈́̓̈́̽̎́̌̋͐͗̑̓̍͌̊̓͑͊̚͝͝ͅẇ̷̡̡̦̫̼̲͙̜͙͓͎̩̱͗̌̄̃̀͆̓̒́̌̈́̉͂̓̈͆̽̄̒̅͆̉̕̚͜͝͝ͅḩ̴̦̺̣͍̹̜̫̺̎̇̌͑̈́̏̒̓̓͋̈́͊̅̎̈́͋͐̎̓͂̓̄̉̇̾́̚̚̚̚͝͠͝ỷ̴̧̨͍͚͖̠͕̮̱̻̳̂́͋͊̀̐́̍̏̆́̈́͋̊̎̀͗̌͑̅̄̄̌̈́́͐̂͗͛̂͠w̷̨͎͖̗̰̻̟̲͉̲̬̲͖͔̘̜̙̻̼̱̗̼̩͉̖̔̎̃͝h̶̢̯̠̩͚͈̥̺̥̬͚̰̦͌y̷̢̢̢̢͙̲̙̤͍̲̲͍̺͓̦̥̝̤̗̩̻̻͇̦̲͐̓̅̓͛̐͊͒͋̀̏̐̀̊͘͘͜ͅw̴̦̘̝̗̘͒͊̓́͂̿̎̿̆͑̈͒̀̓͆͘͜ḩ̷̡̧̡̨̫͈͎͕͓̯͇̞̳͍̺̺̲͕͙̮̯͕͙̭̗̘͕̻͒̔̍̇̐͊́͜͝͝ͅͅͅÿ̵̧̘̫̝̰̯̬͚̤̼̜͓͎̞̪̮̉̇̌̐̂̒̓͑̿̈̉̎̍̓̈́̈́̆̽̅̾̉̆̚͜ͅw̷̨̢̛̭̮̠̩͎̗͙͈͖̯̲̳̯̪͉̱̬̪͚͙̤̩̞̦̖͖̙̣̙̦̺̑̑͆̇̿̒̋́̍͐̓̎͊̉̽̊͌̓͊͑̔̔́̋̀̌̐̽̚͝͝͝͠͝ͅḥ̸̡̛̠͍̗̞͔͖͓̮͓͔̳̝̺̻͍͍͕̬̂̀̏́͆̍̅̑͊̇̋̌͐͐͂̉̚͘͜͝͠ͅͅy̷̧̢̨̨̻̰͎͙̝͔̻̙̣̺̝̿̄͛͝ẉ̸̧̨̨̨̛̖̮͙͙̲͚̤͍̤̬̲̜̖̼̞̰͚̞̘̞͓͚̤͖̠̳̦̥͋̉̌̆̔͛͑͌̏̈̓̿́́̈́͌̊͒͂̒̏̉̆͘̚̕͝͝͠͝ḩ̸͎̗̝̟̦͈̦̬̜̌̈́̇͐͂̏̄̈́͝y̴̧̡̧̡̢̘̞̗͍͈̥̣̠̥͓̩̤͕͖̻͍͇͙̗̼͍̱̅̌̋͊͆̿̒̀̏͛͗̾͌̎͒͗̌̈́̒̐̀̏̎̚͜͜͝͠͝͠͠ͅw̷̛̬̠̪̭̩̉̎̽͑͆ȟ̸̨̙͚̳̜̟̺̻̻̣͙̤̜͓͓̞̺̙̠͉͔̺̀͑́̊́͛̃̑͒͂͆̋͐̈́̏͂̋̊̉͋̀͆̿͂͊̽̆̈́̀̕̕͘̚̚͜ỳ̴̧̛͔̥͎̲͕̠̞͙̣͔̤͚̰͔̹̯̫͎̤̫̮̮͚͉̭̖͚̄̎̄̉̍̋̆̌̈́͒̈́͑͂͆͒͒͝ͅͅw̴̬̩̻̋̃̓̓̈́̊̆̈́̏̀͂͘͘͘͘h̸̛̜̬̗͖̬̲̺̯̀̔͗̔̎̚͜y̶̛̩͎̞͙̼͑͊͑͗́̀́́̓̒̾̕͠͝w̸̨̭̩̌͗͌̿̈͒̚͝h̶̢̖̺̯̝̝͍̭̝̭̪͕̯̺̥̘̱̹̤͚̞̪͉͔͈̻͈̟̠͍͖͚̦̤̫̻̱́͂̾͂̈̃̔̐̃͛̒̇͂̑̂̓͂͐͘̚͘͜͜͝ͅy̷̨̢̧̡̛̭̙͚͙̬̣̟̻̻̼̦̺̲̫͙̝̠͓̦̺͚̞͍̮̹̬͚͋͋̒̊̈̈̀̈́̍͋̽̀̉̐͊̿̑͂͗̓͑̇̽̈́̑̿͆͋͆͌͆͘̚͜͜͜͝͝͠ͅw̶̢̡̛̪̱̪̻̲͕̞̓̀͐̌̈́̄̿̾͆̈̉̂̊̄̎͂̂̈́͂̐̈́͒̇͊̆̄̌̾͒̈́̌̓̏͒̓̊͑͂͑̎͗̕͘̚͘͠͝͝͝ḩ̴̨̢͚͍̗̣͎͙͖͉̣̘̻̮̳͚͙̞̦̭̱̥̯͈̤̮͍͇͚̱̭̤͉̹͖̞̘̘͇͍͖̗̯͙͖͇́̃́͛͊͗̀̍́̒̉̒̍̑̈́͗̿̏̉̅͌̋̐̄̄̐̋̚͘͘̕͘͝͝͠ͅͅy̵̧̡̧̛̼͎̫̣̬̟̰̙̠̬̤̠̩̤̝̜̠͈͖̰̙̳̹͐̀͗͆̈́̃̃͒̓̿̏̓̆̅̀̌̌̐͌̿͂̅̌̾͜͜ͅͅw̸̭̝̩̬͇̋̍̀h̵̨̡̨̡̧̳̺̯̼̬̖̝̖͍̘͖̬͎̮̲̣̲̮̲̥͗̓́̀̑̂̃͂̄̈́̾́̒̋̒̄̈́̓̈́͐̐̀̆͛̄̕͜y̷̨̨̛̹͍̼̲̲̫̜̜̞͖̥͍̤̬̳̰̱̩̰̦̗̑͂̈́͊̐͂̀̔͗̒͋͒̇̌͊̎̈͐̒͆̄̅̅́̓͊͑̑̍̀̊̅̾͋̆͐̀̎̆̈́̅̈͘̕͜͠͝͝͠ͅw̶̡̨̡̛͉̪͖̻̝͓̪̯̯̱̫̮͎̪̘͉̲̗̜̣̦̼̯̹̰͚̪̫̗͇̬̌̍͛̑̅͑͌̈́͆͗͐͑̌̎̈̏̀͑́̅͂̈́̐̇̄̎͊̚͘̕̚̚̕͜h̶̲̱͉̩̰̠̻̞̺͊́̌̓̍͂̍͐̋͜͠͝y̵̡̦̖̹̦̤̺̪̻̜̝̟̖̦̳͔͚͉͖͉̝͓̤͎̰͙̼̠̼̩̬͇̒̀̉̐͐͠ͅw̷̡͎͇̝̘̖͓͔̭̣̜͗̏͛̐̃̀́͒͌͂̾̉̅̆͌̚͠h̸̨̧͓̜̲͖͈̪̲̫͔͍̩̗̀̋̀̾̋͋́̉̊̐̿̋͆̎̀͋̿̚͘͝͝͝y̸̧̨̢̡̡̨̛͇̣̹͔̭͈͍̹̞̭̻̪̬̺̠̖͈̤̗̝͎̫̯͎̞͍̳͚͚͇͖̥̲̻̮̞̣̓̃́̈̒̏́̒̃̈́̇̉̀̊̒͗͜͝͠͠w̷̧̢̨̡̨̡̛̪̼̩̮͉̜̬͓̦̪͍̫͍͙̣̜̫̼̲̫̲̼͕̜̪̦̲̖̖͋̈́́̈́͋̅̍͆̅̓̃̎̀̍̽̈́̾́͋̊͒́̿͆̈͜͜͠h̷̨̧̛̯̳̘͔͕̤̪̣͙̱͙̮̬̻͖͉̥̝̏̈́̑̋͂̓̅̉̌̽̌͋͛͋̐̈͋̏̏̌̌͂̑̏́̑́͐̐͘͘̕͝͝y̸̡̧͇̠̪̪̯̗̲̖̩̜̺̞̯̘͙̯͚̜̻̰̜̥͇̬̟̯̣̣͔͒̃͆͗͊̍̃́͗̌̀̄͆̔͑̇̽͋̈͊́͜͠ͅẁ̶̨̢̧̢̲̪̙͙̯̯̜̞̠̘͙̘̱̤̬̲̞̗̘͕̞̰̦̺̝͎̙͕̻̬̼̮̥͙̗͎̠̼͊̏̐͒̑̓̿̓̅͊̽̽́̒̈͌͆̈́͗͗͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅͅ
h̴̢̧̛̠̻̪̫̖͎̗̬̝͈̟̖̙̼͕̙͙̹̼͇̰̦̭̖̠̤̞͙̭̬͙̼̥̹̖̜̝̉̈́̉̋̎̌́̀̊̾̇̈̊̏̋̀̓̅́̇̃̽͌͂̊͐̓̒̉̒̈̈͛͛̇͑͑͒̐̌̾͗͊̎̚̕̚͜͜͝͝ͅͅͅy̸̨̢̛̳̯͕͚̤̺̹̜̘͔̤̱̯̠̮͍̬͔̥̤͙̘̗͇̻̅̆͛̾̽́̎̑͆̈́̈́̆͂̀̅͊͌̈́̊̌͌͒̔̍̈́̾̍͘̚͘̚͜͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅẃ̶̧̛̮͇̹̱̪͕͈͉̙͔͂̈́̈̆̓͂̀̒͋̓̓̓̋̀́̽́̎́̎̓̈̇́̓̈́̓̆̎̕͝͝h̵̛̛̘͔̱͖̳̪͍̟͖̯̽̾̇̆͌̓̑͑͂̐͂̈́̈̂͐̃̀̋̇̾̊̈́̆͗̐̈́̿̒̈́͒͋͐̈́̈́̚̚͘͜͠͝ͅẙ̸̢̡̧̡͚͍̬̠̖̮̙̳̹͖̉̀̀̒͑͂̿̌̍͂̈́́̕͜͜w̶̧̢̢̨̡̨̛̥̥̥̜͇̙͎̭̥̜̰̱̗̼̩̳̤̼͔̼̘̦̲͖̣̮͔͇͙̖̝̱̦̠̲̫̳̝̽́͆̊͐̏̈́̊̑̊̾͒̅͐̇̾͒̈́͆̊͋̈͑̃͌̀̈́̿͑̓̑͋͒͑̚̕̚̚͜͠͝͝͝͝͝h̶̨̡̡̡̨̛͕̤̜̤͚͚̗̱̖͓͇̬̺͕̖̗͈͈͚̱̺̰͙͓̪̻̜͎̠̳̦̥̞̟̼̼͈̫̹̹̔̅̍͊̌̿͋̌̃̔̽͛̓̌̿̚̚̕͝͝͝͝ͅy̸̨̢̢̳̩̘̥̺͇͇̳̮̗͔̤̤̘̠͙̼̣̘̜̺̰͇̣͕̦̜̙̣̫̳͈͓̗̜̘͕͍̥̲͋̎̐̽̑͒͋̅͌̇͊̌͊́̈́̒͐̓̌̅̍͊̈͛͂̉̅̉͐̈́̈́̑̉̃͛̕̕͘͝͝ͅẅ̸̢̡̨̖̻̞̹̺̹̣̮͚̣̣̳̗̼̭͔́̋̆̐͝h̵̨̛̤̳̹̦̯͈̱̺̺̞̤̪̣̞͖͖̳̤͎̦̼̭̪̼͚̖̀̓͊̄̅͂̓͌́̂̎̒̒͛̈́̌̿͊͌́̏̾̕͘̚̚͘̕͜͠͝͝ͅỹ̷̨̬̩̯͚͚̠͙̻̗̞̫̎̓̃͐͆̓̈́̀̊̈́̅̌̐̇́̀͊̊̌̐̍̈́̂̀̔̽̎̅̃̋̈̇̕͝͠͠͝͝͠w̶͇̭̠̞̲̯̐̆̂́͛̃̇̈͋̎̓͋͑̈́͂̅͑̋̀͒́̅͑̓̓̌̋̉́͆͘̚̚̕͘͘͝h̸̢̡̻͚͇̰̫̞͖̝͓̥͖͚̦̤̞͉̠̥̞͎̦͖̦̺̗̗̰̞̤̜̗͑͛̌͋́̾̎̈́̐̀̀̈̄̒̽͗̓̿̚̚͜͠͝͝͠͠͝ͅý̴̢̢̨̱̫̼͎͙̮̥̤̲̰͙̱̪̥̼̭̗̥̪̲͓͉̹͎͚̮͔̦͚͉̱̰̱̗̔̈̃̍̀́͌̇̐̔̊̆́̋͆̆̂̕͝ͅw̶̘̱͕̲̻͉̠̐̄́̽͆́̈́͐̈́͌͗̿̓̍̃̅̊́̿̔̀̏̋̋̀̕̕͘͠ḩ̸̧̖̱͍̬̼̼͎͚̙̗̮̰̰̫͓̠͖̞̩͚͈͖͈̬̖̭̩͔̺̱̌̈͂͗̿̎̏͊̈́̐̽̀͆̅̒̍͆̒̎̀͘̕͜͝ͅy̶̨̮͈̳̼͍̥̟̹̘̬̝͍̺̻̠̳͙̜̆͂̓̉̿̎̈͌͊̌͑͒̉͌̄̀͑̈́̊̿͐̇͌̚͜͜͜͝͝ͅw̴̡̧͉̼̦̲͙̠͉̫̭͍̖̮̼̦̠̹̼͈̬̮̹͔̲̝͔̥̱̹̜̝͍̯̱̲̳̺̝̣͂́̆͊̍̑̔̔̓̅̏̎̀̌͒̈̏̅̀͘̚͜͝ͅḧ̵̨̘̞͈̭̘̱͙̲̤̥̯́̌͂̈́̿̆͝ͅy̷̢̢̢̡̨̢̛̙̼̘̜̗̫̘͉̗̝̩̩̱̱͓͚̖̪̯̮̼̘͓͉̰̬͕̙̰̋̎̊̈́̔̐͂̈̏̒̊̓̒̾͒̎͋́͊́̀͗́̑̀͗͐̓͋́̄̓̐͌̏̃̾̈́̐̒̂͠͝ͅw̵̧̡̢̨̱̘͉̖̗̮̼͚̗͚̝̠̳̥̗̻͍͔̱̩̤̹̼͚̗̙̠̦̜͉̼͔̓̈́͆͛̽̉̆͛̾̐́́͒͒̇̓̌̆̃̎̿͊̾̀̈̈́̇̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅͅh̸̢̢̡̢̨̹͍͓̣̣͙̣͕̟͎̬̪͉̳̝̰͎͖̘̣̘̪́͗͐͠ͅy̵̢̡̛̛̛̩͓̪͇͓̻̻̙͍̠̜͓͎̲͎͈̩͚̯̠̱̪̮̻̳̲͂͗̎̊̈̿̌͛̾̀̔͗́̓̎̀̈́̀͋̀͐̈̄̓̓̾̋̀̄͗̀̋͐̃̊͊͆͗͛͊̊̓̚͠w̴̢̡̟͙̹̫̖̼̠͚̙̤̳̼͍͉̦̤̣͓͖̬̫̳̠̫̯̮̰͆̀͂̄͊̏̅̊͗́̿̈́̓́̎̆̓̊̄̈̅̉̐̍̿͑̕͜͝͝ͅḩ̵̡̢̨̛̙̗̯̞̫͔͖͈̭̫̖̩̗͈͔̜͇͙̟̦̼̦̦̖͔̞̦̹̝͇͖̠͎̈́̃̀̐̿̍̐̍̒̽͐̈͗̃́̉͒̎̿̏̈͗̓͌̐̉̽̑͜͠͝͝ͅy̸̋̈̽̾̆̍̒̓́͐͆̈́̕͝ͅw̵̧̧̧͇͎̭̻͔̰̲̖̻͎͎̺̙͓̲̎̅̾̌̓̔̄͒̈̀͋͆̍̀̀̎̒̄́͑̃̈́͑͆̏̈́̍͆̓̔̾̂͂͋͗̈́̚̚̕͠͠͠͠͝h̸̨̢̢̛̛̛̛̛͍͍̙̫̮͎̲͉̠̜͈̝̠͍̰̺̬͇̦̰̤̦̲̫͕̟̰͚̝͍̱͔̯̙̞̰̤̫͙͊̀͑̏̅̃̎̿̉̃͐̎͋͂͋̈́͑̉͒̿̒͑̌͌͆̇́͌̒̀͒̏̿͊̏͑̈́͑̈́̚͘̚͜͜͜͝͠͠y̵̡̨̢̻͓̥͔͙͈͚̬̩̞͕͔̘̳͖̠̙̞͇̪͐̀̑͊̽̀͋̐̓̽̂͊̿̎̉̓̀͌́͂̈́͛̓͂̒̅̚͜w̴̺͋́̓͋͑́̌͂̂̆̋̈́͋̾̔́͗̿͗̾̈̋͌̀̔̽͆̓͘͘͘͝ḧ̷̡̧̡͔͙̣̜̳̟͈̤͖̪͉̦̙̘̥̮̹̩̺̱̖̮̼̗͓̪͎̙̯̺̠̹̜̩̹͖̪̬̤̼̹͚́͊͒̀̀͗͋̂̒̆̀̅̾͒͐̃̅̉̑̀̕͠͝͝͝ͅͅy̸̧̨̨̛͖̫̙̖̺͎̣̘̹͕̟̖̦̭̱͕̺͈͚̤̟̭͎̜̦̳͓͕̝̳̰̝͕̬̮̟̩͉͊̌͒̈́͋̀͆̍͗̉̈́͑́͘͝ͅw̴̛̻̯͎̝̠̲̣̲̹͓̝̹̱̳̭͔̐̂͑̓̉̑̐̽͛̔̓̀̽̋̈́̽̎̌̈̏̈̍̓̄̽̅́̈́̀̈́̈́̽̓̀̂̓͋̎͑͂̋͊̕͝͝ͅͅh̵̨̨͖̯̤̞̩̹͓̲̠͎̟̫͙͉̠̒̃̅̈̀́̈́̈́͜ͅy̷̨̡̢̟͔̺̥̞̪͍̩̻̥̫̘̤̹͖͍̦͇̼̲̘̼̫̗̻̹̹̲͎͉̺̭̆̐͗̓̋͂͋̏̐̊͑̂͗͐̉̀̀͒̔̓̉̓́͒͑͂̿̐́̊̈́̀̏̌͆͘̕͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̵̡̧̧̦̖̯̠̞̳̠̼̩̲̗͉̼̬͖̯͖̪̥̞͙̹̯͕̮̯͎̹̻͈̤̪̘̰̇̒̌̈̄̂̈́̀̒̄́̈́́̏̈́̀͑͆̽̆̐͝ͅͅẖ̴̡̢̧̛̻̦̗̭̜͕̮͇̯̝̬͕̣̗̙̖̣̤̄̐̅͊̐̃̈́̊̿̄̇̃̔̈́̃͌̈̓̊̀̈́̈͑̃̈́͆̏̑̃̎͐́̄̎̓̒̆̈́͐͂̓͘̕͘̚̚͜͝͝͝ͅý̴̧̡̧̰̯̯̖̞̣͕̥͎̥̙͔͕̜̯̹̰͖̥͕͇̞͉̬̫̻̮͋͗͒̀͐̍̆͒͋̎̀̓̌̔̈́̉̌͑͋̍̔͛̓͋͐͂͊̈̽̅͒̏̂́͗̇̈̎͘̚̕̕͘͠͠͠͝͝ẅ̴̡̟̱͇̙̲̱̙̼̤͓͍̭̼̣̭̜͕̦͕̙̬̜͇̥̣̲͚̥̰́̇̀̃̔h̴̥̙͚̝͔̺͕̦̠̰͒́͊̉̔̅̿͊̓̆͑̂͌͆̀̎͛̐̓͌̊̑̑̀̈́͋̀̂͑̾̿̽̿̋͊̏́̃̓̅̐͊̈́̑̕̚̚̚͘͜͜͝y̷̝̭̗͇̳̲̟͍̤̤̩̜̮̫̗̝̰̬̖̥͂͌͂̀́̒͆̇̈́̔͌̃̓͑̈́̊̚̚̚͠͝͠w̷̨̧̧̢̮̟͙͎̗͖̤̙̖͙̱̦̳̦̱͎̮͉̅̔͆̏̂̄̉̂̐̄͑̓͛͋͜ͅh̵̛̰̫͉̜͓͇̻̠̦̓̃̀̀̊̃̐͐͆̏̈̍͗̃̋̒͆͌͗̔̒͋́̉̉̾͐̅̈̒́̊̋̋̔̌̂̂̚͝͝͠ͅy̵̧̨̨̤̹̠͖̖̮̹͙͎͎̦̫̖̭̼͍̳͍͙͔̻͙̥̪̝͎̘̪̮̯̯͚͉̪̣̬͖͇͎͗̅̈̋̊̎̚ͅͅͅw̸̢͍͇̯̼̭̥͔̥̭͆́̿͛̌̈̈́̂̈̈́̄̎̿͌̎̚͝ḥ̶̙̹̿̽̌͒͊̄̇́̓͐͊̋͋̓̈́̀̇̍͂̉̌̎̐̈́̏̆̐͒̒̚͘̕͝͝͠͝y̴̢̢̡̡̛̘̱̦͎͚̳̰̼̪̩̱̞͓̖̜̰͍̭̦͔̞̗̯͙̭̘̤̲͍̱̭͓͇͇̥̭̒̔̈́̽͗̔͜ͅͅẉ̶̢̧̛̞̣̣̦̟̰̺̥͙͉̦̻̮̭̩̠͔͓̼̬͖͒̈̾͒̌̊̉̆̕̕ͅh̶̡̢̢̦͓̫̪̟̻̮͔̥̗͈̼̳̘͇̪̼̦̤̣͍̱͈̬̥̙̮̘̳̰̘̞͚̼̭̞̱̻̫̪̙̙̥̖̿̐͛̏̾̾̌͛̈́͆͂͆̈̈́̿̈́̔̉͑̈́̽̇̕̕̚͝͝y̵̅̆͛͐́̓̉͌̆̓͂͜͠͝w̴̢̢̡̨̮͓̝̤̝͓̘͓̲̖̼͖͖̱̘͓̞͔̦̱̞̬̹͚̙̰̼̹͕͙̥͕̓̆̅̀́͒͜͜͠ͅh̸̢̧̢̡̨̧͙͍͙̩͇̼̯̠͉̲͎͚̯͔̤͈̠̺͇̗̼͇̗̦̘̹̯̬̳̣̟̤̩̾̎̈̌͜͜͠ͅͅ
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ẇ̵̨̡̛͉͎̊́͛́̐͐̍̊̑͒̃̍̀̉͆̽̐̉̽̀̂̋͌̌̏̽̄̄̀̍͊͑̎́̕̚̕͝h̶̞̜̯̬̬͙͇̤͋̀́͂̌̔̇͌̕̚͘͜͜y̶̨̡̨̧̛̛̙͚͉͖̻̞̘̤͇̺̝͉̲̞̝͉͇̻̰̻͚̮͉̙̜̰̳̝͕͕̙͍̥̞̤̜̥̏̾̾̐͒͑̐̓̇̔͌́̈̐̓̐̀̀̆̒̍̃̓̈́͊͐͆͊̐́̎̚͘͝ͅẅ̴̨̡̨̡̧͎͉̬̙̱̩͍̥̲͈̭̺͚̫̦̙̰̯̩͎͖͓͍͇͙̻̻̯̹̜̲̩̜͍̘̪͈̼̖̣̑̒̌̄͛̚͜ͅͅh̵̨̧̢̭̟͍͈̺͓̻̙͚͍̮̱̫̮̠͍̙͖͍̹͔̆̃́͗͌̇̎͐̈́̋̓̅͜͜͜͝ͅͅỵ̶̢̨̘̱͔̲̖̳̖̰̞̯̞̼͚͈͔̣͎̩͙̮͓͕̲̭̟̱̟̤̯͇͛̀̑̍̀̍̌̽̋̾̿͌͑͗̃͑̉̒̍̇͛̏̂̇̆̐͋́̓͋̄͐͑̇̏̑͘̚̕̕̕̕̚͜͝w̴̡̼͈̰̰̙̙̦̘͇̠̲̝̯͔̳̹͎͇̜̪̗͙͉͕͉̮̣̾̈́̃̆͗̅̽̿̓͋͑͜͝͠͝ͅͅĥ̵̨̛̛̬̳̭͉̾͗̊̋̊͒͂̈͑̓̐̓͛͐̑͂̊̈͗̈̏̈́̕̚̚͜͠͠y̷̨̨̨̡̛͓͈͉͍̳̝̝͔̣̟͚̯̤͕̠̞̥͔̘̩̫̼̥͕̤̝̔̏́̔̐̋̽͒͑̋͋̌̉̔̀͂̇̾̓̎̃͊̈́̈́̂̀̋͝͝͝w̵̡̡̡̧̳̼̭̗̙̘̥̘̞̱̙͇̗͖̯̺̣͉̣͉̭̠̙̳͚̘̐̓̿̃̅̋̾͂͒̎̓̃̒̀͐͒̑̿̎̋̾̈́͒͐̓̐̆̊̚͝͠ͅh̶̻̲͓͕̣̯͎̪̟̦̬͇̠̯̍̇͆̈́̓͑̂͌̽̃̏̏͗̅͋̄̿͐̈́̏̈́̋̈̐̀̍͂̽͂̑̇̆̽̂̍͘͘̕̕͘͝͠͠ͅy̷̨̢̦̗̩̟̭̞̟̪̱̭̬̗͔͕͉̬̳͚̥̫̌̄͐̆̀͛̓̓̂͐͑̑̈́͆͆͐̉͋͛͒̎́͆́̃͑̇̿́̍͂̐̈́̃͋͛̓̃͜͠͝w̷̧̢̨̡̛̤̗̯̣͍͎͈̮͙͓̰̤͙͙̜̜̥͕͔̖̗̯͋͐̆͊̿̑̾͒͌̇̐̇̍̀̽͆͆̉͊̓̓̈̐͋͊͗̀͋̄͛̉̐̇̾̈̑͘͘͠͝͝h̷̢̡͉̗̥̲̞͎̦̖̼̥̘̩̠̘̫̼̱̮̬̩̦̱̘͓̠̒̍͌̈́͂̃̎̔̈́̅̊͌̈̍͆̋̃̇͑̓͂̋̃̊͆́̃̑͆̃̆͛͊̿̔͐̆̒͐͗̈͘͜͜͜͠͝͠ͅͅy̴̧̢͙͕͕̭̳̳͚̥̝̱͙͈̥̹̤͈̙̗͕̝͚͓̥̘̫̜͓͙̩̕w̸̨̢̛͚̦̻̦͇͍̟̠̪͇̰͖̲͔͙͚̪̰̱͎͉̳̜̦̬̤̮̬͖͓̻͖͕̼̥̥̯̪̼̜͓̤͖͙̣͓̃͆̈̐̎̇̉̀��͊̌̀̀̐̿̒̽͗̍̽̄͒̑͋̊̅͗̉̾͛̋̀̇̇̈́̕͘͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅh̴̢̧̧̛͇̫̤̱̺̞̹̮͇̦͊̀̄̽͐̏̐̇͒̐̂̀̈̅͐̑́̉̇̓̎̉̉̎̔̂̊̏̌̑͘͘͘̕͜͝͠͠͝ͅÿ̵̡̲̳̬̞̣̗͙͕̫̟̦́̽̓͋̈́̓͊̉̃͗̑̇͆̀̾̂̈́̎͐̂̐̽͝w̷̡̢̨̢̨̢̢̨̨̯̰͉̖͚̙͕͈̞̫̼͍͕̞̭̯̫̗͚͓̩̱̠̹̺͙̲̃̔͜ḩ̷̢̛̛̖̰̭̣͉̦̤͕͕̟̻̪̞̱̗͖̫̼̫͔̠̩̪͇̩̝̮̘̝̮̠͊̋̓͑̒̏̿̎̌̎̃̂̌̓̈́̊̽̓̃̾̀̀͆͒̀̉͂̄̈́̊̊̆͂̉͛͌͗͊̆̀͂͗̓̈̽͘͜͝͠y̵̡̮̼̙̥̬͇̤̭̝̲̲̼̘̼̥͕̼͂̍̀͑̽̎̑͛͋̚͝͠w̸̨̭̩̌͗͌̿̈͒̚͝h̶̢̖̺̯̝̝͍̭̝̭̪͕̯̺̥̘̱̹̤͚̞̪͉͔͈̻͈̟̠͍͖͚̦̤̫̻̱́͂̾͂̈̃̔̐̃͛̒̇͂̑̂̓͂͐͘̚͘͜͜͝ͅy̷̨̢̧̡̛̭̙͚͙̬̣̟̻̻̼̦̺̲̫͙̝̠͓̦̺͚̞͍̮̹̬͚͋͋̒̊̈̈̀̈́̍͋̽̀̉̐͊̿̑͂͗̓͑̇̽̈́̑̿͆͋͆͌͆͘̚͜͜͜͝͝͠ͅw̶̢̡̛̪̱̪̻̲͕̞̓̀͐̌̈́̄̿̾͆̈̉̂̊̄̎͂̂̈́͂̐̈́͒̇͊̆̄̌̾͒̈́̌̓̏͒̓̊͑͂͑̎͗̕͘̚͘͠͝͝͝ḩ̴̨̢͚͍̗̣͎͙͖͉̣̘̻̮̳͚͙̞̦̭̱̥̯͈̤̮͍͇͚̱̭̤͉̹͖̞̘̘͇͍͖̗̯͙͖͇́̃́͛͊͗̀̍́̒̉̒̍̑̈́͗̿̏̉̅͌̋̐̄̄̐̋̚͘͘̕͘͝͝͠ͅͅy̵̧̡̧̛̼͎̫̣̬̟̰̙̠̬̤̠̩̤̝̜̠͈͖̰̙̳̹͐̀͗͆̈́̃̃͒̓̿̏̓̆̅̀̌̌̐͌̿͂̅̌̾͜͜ͅͅw̸̭̝̩̬͇̋̍̀h̵̨̡̨̡̧̳̺̯̼̬̖̝̖͍̘͖̬͎̮̲̣̲̮̲̥͗̓́̀̑̂̃͂̄̈́̾́̒̋̒̄̈́̓̈́͐̐̀̆͛̄̕͜y̷̨̨̛̹͍̼̲̲̫̜̜̞͖̥͍̤̬̳̰̱̩̰̦̗̑͂̈́͊̐͂̀̔͗̒͋͒̇̌͊̎̈͐̒͆̄̅̅́̓͊͑̑̍̀̊̅̾͋̆͐̀̎̆̈́̅̈͘̕͜͠͝͝͠ͅw̶̡̨̡̛͉̪͖̻̝͓̪̯̯̱̫̮͎̪̘͉̲̗̜̣̦̼̯̹̰͚̪̫̗͇̬̌̍͛̑̅͑͌̈́͆͗͐͑̌̎̈̏̀͑́̅͂̈́̐̇̄̎͊̚͘̕̚̚̕͜h̶̲̱͉̩̰̠̻̞̺͊́̌̓̍͂̍͐̋͜͠͝y̵̡̦̖̹̦̤̺̪̻̜̝̟̖̦̳͔͚͉͖͉̝͓̤͎̰͙̼̠̼̩̬͇̒̀̉̐͐͠ͅw̷̡͎͇̝̘̖͓͔̭̣̜͗̏͛̐̃̀́͒͌͂̾̉̅̆͌̚͠h̸̨̧͓̜̲͖͈̪̲̫͔͍̩̗̀̋̀̾̋͋́̉̊̐̿̋͆̎̀͋̿̚͘͝͝͝y̸̧̨̢̡̡̨̛͇̣̹͔̭͈͍̹̞̭̻̪̬̺̠̖͈̤̗̝͎̫̯͎̞͍̳͚͚͇͖̥̲̻̮̞̣̓̃́̈̒̏́̒̃̈́̇̉̀̊̒͗͜͝͠͠w̷̧̢̨̡̨̡̛̪̼̩̮͉̜̬͓̦̪͍̫͍͙̣̜̫̼̲̫̲̼͕̜̪̦̲̖̖͋̈́́̈́͋̅̍͆̅̓̃̎̀̍̽̈́̾́͋̊͒́̿͆̈͜͜͠h̷̨̧̛̯̳̘͔͕̤̪̣͙̱͙̮̬̻͖͉̥̝̏̈́̑̋͂̓̅̉̌̽̌͋͛͋̐̈͋̏̏̌̌͂̑̏́̑́͐̐͘͘̕͝͝y̸̡̧͇̠̪̪̯̗̲̖̩̜̺̞̯̘͙̯͚̜̻̰̜̥͇̬̟̯̣̣͔͒̃͆͗͊̍̃́͗̌̀̄͆̔͑̇̽͋̈͊́͜͠ͅẁ̶̨̢̧̢̲̪̙͙̯̯̜̞̠̘͙̘̱̤̬̲̞̗̘͕̞̰̦̺̝͎̙͕̻̬̼̮̥͙̗͎̠̼͊̏̐͒̑̓̿̓̅͊̽̽́̒̈͌͆̈́͗͗͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅͅh̴̢̧̛̠̻̪̫̖͎̗̬̝͈̟̖̙̼͕̙͙̹̼͇̰̦̭̖̠̤̞͙̭̬͙̼̥̹̖̜̝̉̈́̉̋̎̌́̀̊̾̇̈̊̏̋̀̓̅́̇̃̽͌͂̊͐̓̒̉̒̈̈͛͛̇͑͑͒̐̌̾͗͊̎̚̕̚͜͜͝͝ͅͅͅy̸̨̢̛̳̯͕͚̤̺̹̜̘͔̤̱̯̠̮͍̬͔̥̤͙̘̗͇̻̅̆͛̾̽́̎̑͆̈́̈́̆͂̀̅͊͌̈́̊̌͌͒̔̍̈́̾̍͘̚͘̚͜͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅẃ̶̧̛̮͇̹̱̪͕͈͉̙͔͂̈́̈̆̓͂̀̒͋̓̓̓̋̀́̽́̎́̎̓̈̇́̓̈́̓̆̎̕͝͝h̵̛̛̘͔̱͖̳̪͍̟͖̯̽̾̇̆͌̓̑͑͂̐͂̈́̈̂͐̃̀̋̇̾̊̈́̆͗̐̈́̿̒̈́͒͋͐̈́̈́̚̚͘͜͠͝ͅẙ̸̢̡̧̡͚͍̬̠̖̮̙̳̹͖̉̀̀̒͑͂̿̌̍͂̈́́̕͜͜w̶̧̢̢̨̡̨̛̥̥̥̜͇̙͎̭̥̜̰̱̗̼̩̳̤̼͔̼̘̦̲͖̣̮͔͇͙̖̝̱̦̠̲̫̳̝̽́͆̊͐̏̈́̊̑̊̾͒̅͐̇̾͒̈́͆̊͋̈͑̃͌̀̈́̿͑̓̑͋͒͑̚̕̚̚͜͠͝͝͝͝͝h̶̨̡̡̡̨̛͕̤̜̤͚͚̗̱̖͓͇̬̺͕̖̗͈͈͚̱̺̰͙͓̪̻̜͎̠̳̦̥̞̟̼̼͈̫̹̹̔̅̍͊̌̿͋̌̃̔̽͛̓̌̿̚̚̕͝͝͝͝ͅy̸̨̢̢̳̩̘̥̺͇͇̳̮̗͔̤̤̘̠͙̼̣̘̜̺̰͇̣͕̦̜̙̣̫̳͈͓̗̜̘͕͍̥̲͋̎̐̽̑͒͋̅͌̇͊̌͊́̈́̒͐̓̌̅̍͊̈͛͂̉̅̉͐̈́̈́̑̉̃͛̕̕͘͝͝ͅẅ̸̢̡̨̖̻̞̹̺̹̣̮͚̣̣̳̗̼̭͔́̋̆̐͝h̵̨̛̤̳̹̦̯͈̱̺̺̞̤̪̣̞͖͖̳̤͎̦̼̭̪̼͚̖̀̓͊̄̅͂̓͌́̂̎̒̒͛̈́̌̿͊͌́̏̾̕͘̚̚͘̕͜͠͝͝ͅỹ̷̨̬̩̯͚͚̠͙̻̗̞̫̎̓̃͐͆̓̈́̀̊̈́̅̌̐̇́̀͊̊̌̐̍̈́̂̀̔̽̎̅̃̋̈̇̕͝͠͠͝͝͠w̶͇̭̠̞̲̯̐̆̂́͛̃̇̈͋̎̓͋͑̈́͂̅͑̋̀͒́̅͑̓̓̌̋̉́͆͘̚̚̕͘͘͝
h̸̢̡̻͚͇̰̫̞͖̝͓̥͖͚̦̤̞͉̠̥̞͎̦͖̦̺̗̗̰̞̤̜̗͑͛̌͋́̾̎̈́̐̀̀̈̄̒̽͗̓̿̚̚͜͠͝͝͠͠͝ͅý̴̢̢̨̱̫̼͎͙̮̥̤̲̰͙̱̪̥̼̭̗̥̪̲͓͉̹͎͚̮͔̦͚͉̱̰̱̗̔̈̃̍̀́͌̇̐̔̊̆́̋͆̆̂̕͝ͅw̶̘̱͕̲̻͉̠̐̄́̽͆́̈́͐̈́͌͗̿̓̍̃̅̊́̿̔̀̏̋̋̀̕̕͘͠ḩ̸̧̖̱͍̬̼̼͎͚̙̗̮̰̰̫͓̠͖̞̩͚͈͖͈̬̖̭̩͔̺̱̌̈͂͗̿̎̏͊̈́̐̽̀͆̅̒̍͆̒̎̀͘̕͜͝ͅy̶̨̮͈̳̼͍̥̟̹̘̬̝͍̺̻̠̳͙̜̆͂̓̉̿̎̈͌͊̌͑͒̉͌̄̀͑̈́̊̿͐̇͌̚͜͜͜͝͝ͅw̴̡̧͉̼̦̲͙̠͉̫̭͍̖̮̼̦̠̹̼͈̬̮̹͔̲̝͔̥̱̹̜̝͍̯̱̲̳̺̝̣͂́̆͊̍̑̔̔̓̅̏̎̀̌͒̈̏̅̀͘̚͜͝ͅḧ̵̨̘̞͈̭̘̱͙̲̤̥̯́̌͂̈́̿̆͝ͅy̷̢̢̢̡̨̢̛̙̼̘̜̗̫̘͉̗̝̩̩̱̱͓͚̖̪̯̮̼̘͓͉̰̬͕̙̰̋̎̊̈́̔̐͂̈̏̒̊̓̒̾͒̎͋́͊́̀͗́̑̀͗͐̓͋́̄̓̐͌̏̃̾̈́̐̒̂͠͝ͅw̵̧̡̢̨̱̘͉̖̗̮̼͚̗͚̝̠̳̥̗̻͍͔̱̩̤̹̼͚̗̙̠̦̜͉̼͔̓̈́͆͛̽̉̆͛̾̐́́͒͒̇̓̌̆̃̎̿͊̾̀̈̈́̇̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅͅh̸̢̢̡̢̨̹͍͓̣̣͙̣͕̟͎̬̪͉̳̝̰͎͖̘̣̘̪́͗͐͠ͅy̵̢̡̛̛̛̩͓̪͇͓̻̻̙͍̠̜͓͎̲͎͈̩͚̯̠̱̪̮̻̳̲͂͗̎̊̈̿̌͛̾̀̔͗́̓̎̀̈́̀͋̀͐̈̄̓̓̾̋̀̄͗̀̋͐̃̊͊͆͗͛͊̊̓̚͠w̴̢̡̟͙̹̫̖̼̠͚̙̤̳̼͍͉̦̤̣͓͖̬̫̳̠̫̯̮̰͆̀͂̄͊̏̅̊͗́̿̈́̓́̎̆̓̊̄̈̅̉̐̍̿͑̕͜͝͝ͅḩ̵̡̢̨̛̙̗̯̞̫͔͖͈̭̫̖̩̗͈͔̜͇͙̟̦̼̦̦̖͔̞̦̹̝͇͖̠͎̈́̃̀̐̿̍̐̍̒̽͐̈͗̃́̉͒̎̿̏̈͗̓͌̐̉̽̑͜͠͝͝ͅy̸̋̈̽̾̆̍̒̓́͐͆̈́̕͝ͅw̵̧̧̧͇͎̭̻͔̰̲̖̻͎͎̺̙͓̲̎̅̾̌̓̔̄͒̈̀͋͆̍̀̀̎̒̄́͑̃̈́͑͆̏̈́̍͆̓̔̾̂͂͋͗̈́̚̚̕͠͠͠͠͝h̸̨̢̢̛̛̛̛̛͍͍̙̫̮͎̲͉̠̜͈̝̠͍̰̺̬͇̦̰̤̦̲̫͕̟̰͚̝͍̱͔̯̙̞̰̤̫͙͊̀͑̏̅̃̎̿̉̃͐̎͋͂͋̈́͑̉͒̿̒͑̌͌͆̇́͌̒̀͒̏̿͊̏͑̈́͑̈́̚͘̚͜͜͜͝͠͠y̵̡̨̢̻͓̥͔͙͈͚̬̩̞͕͔̘̳͖̠̙̞͇̪͐̀̑͊̽̀͋̐̓̽̂͊̿̎̉̓̀͌́͂̈́͛̓͂̒̅̚͜w̴̺͋́̓͋͑́̌͂̂̆̋̈́͋̾̔́͗̿͗̾̈̋͌̀̔̽͆̓͘͘͘͝ḧ̷̡̧̡͔͙̣̜̳̟͈̤͖̪͉̦̙̘̥̮̹̩̺̱̖̮̼̗͓̪͎̙̯̺̠̹̜̩̹͖̪̬̤̼̹͚́͊͒̀̀͗͋̂̒̆̀̅̾͒͐̃̅̉̑̀̕͠͝͝͝ͅͅy̸̧̨̨̛͖̫̙̖̺͎̣̘̹͕̟̖̦̭̱͕̺͈͚̤̟̭͎̜̦̳͓͕̝̳̰̝͕̬̮̟̩͉͊̌͒̈́͋̀͆̍͗̉̈́͑́͘͝ͅw̴̛̻̯͎̝̠̲̣̲̹͓̝̹̱̳̭͔̐̂͑̓̉̑̐̽͛̔̓̀̽̋̈́̽̎̌̈̏̈̍̓̄̽̅́̈́̀̈́̈́̽̓̀̂̓͋̎͑͂̋͊̕͝͝ͅͅh̵̨̨͖̯̤̞̩̹͓̲̠͎̟̫͙͉̠̒̃̅̈̀́̈́̈́͜ͅy̷̨̡̢̟͔̺̥̞̪͍̩̻̥̫̘̤̹͖͍̦͇̼̲̘̼̫̗̻̹̹̲͎͉̺̭̆̐͗̓̋͂͋̏̐̊͑̂͗͐̉̀̀͒̔̓̉̓́͒͑͂̿̐́̊̈́̀̏̌͆͘̕͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̵̡̧̧̦̖̯̠̞̳̠̼̩̲̗͉̼̬͖̯͖̪̥̞͙̹̯͕̮̯͎̹̻͈̤̪̘̰̇̒̌̈̄̂̈́̀̒̄́̈́́̏̈́̀͑͆̽̆̐͝ͅͅẖ̴̡̢̧̛̻̦̗̭̜͕̮͇̯̝̬͕̣̗̙̖̣̤̄̐̅͊̐̃̈́̊̿̄̇̃̔̈́̃͌̈̓̊̀̈́̈͑̃̈́͆̏̑̃̎͐́̄̎̓̒̆̈́͐͂̓͘̕͘̚̚͜͝͝͝ͅý̴̧̡̧̰̯̯̖̞̣͕̥͎̥̙͔͕̜̯̹̰͖̥͕͇̞͉̬̫̻̮͋͗͒̀͐̍̆͒͋̎̀̓̌̔̈́̉̌͑͋̍̔͛̓͋͐͂͊̈̽̅͒̏̂́͗̇̈̎͘̚̕̕͘͠͠͠͝͝ẅ̴̡̟̱͇̙̲̱̙̼̤͓͍̭̼̣̭̜͕̦͕̙̬̜͇̥̣̲͚̥̰́̇̀̃̔h̴̥̙͚̝͔̺͕̦̠̰͒́͊̉̔̅̿͊̓̆͑̂͌͆̀̎͛̐̓͌̊̑̑̀̈́͋̀̂͑̾̿̽̿̋͊̏́̃̓̅̐͊̈́̑̕̚̚̚͘͜͜͝y̷̝̭̗͇̳̲̟͍̤̤̩̜̮̫̗̝̰̬̖̥͂͌͂̀́̒͆̇̈́̔͌̃̓͑̈́̊̚̚̚͠͝͠w̷̨̧̧̢̮̟͙͎̗͖̤̙̖͙̱̦̳̦̱͎̮͉̅̔͆̏̂̄̉̂̐̄͑̓͛͋͜ͅh̵̛̰̫͉̜͓͇̻̠̦̓̃̀̀̊̃̐͐͆̏̈̍͗̃̋̒͆͌͗̔̒͋́̉̉̾͐̅̈̒́̊̋̋̔̌̂̂̚͝͝͠ͅy̵̧̨̨̤̹̠͖̖̮̹͙͎͎̦̫̖̭̼͍̳͍͙͔̻͙̥̪̝͎̘̪̮̯̯͚͉̪̣̬͖͇͎͗̅̈̋̊̎̚ͅͅͅw̸̢͍͇̯̼̭̥͔̥̭͆́̿͛̌̈̈́̂̈̈́̄̎̿͌̎̚͝ḥ̶̙̹̿̽̌͒͊̄̇́̓͐͊̋͋̓̈́̀̇̍͂̉̌̎̐̈́̏̆̐͒̒̚͘̕͝͝͠͝y̴̢̢̡̡̛̘̱̦͎͚̳̰̼̪̩̱̞͓̖̜̰͍̭̦͔̞̗̯͙̭̘̤̲͍̱̭͓͇͇̥̭̒̔̈́̽͗̔͜ͅͅẉ̶̢̧̛̞̣̣̦̟̰̺̥͙͉̦̻̮̭̩̠͔͓̼̬͖͒̈̾͒̌̊̉̆̕̕ͅh̶̡̢̢̦͓̫̪̟̻̮͔̥̗͈̼̳̘͇̪̼̦̤̣͍̱͈̬̥̙̮̘̳̰̘̞͚̼̭̞̱̻̫̪̙̙̥̖̿̐͛̏̾̾̌͛̈́͆͂͆̈̈́̿̈́̔̉͑̈́̽̇̕̕̚͝͝y̵̅̆͛͐́̓̉͌̆̓͂͜͠͝w̴̢̢̡̨̮͓̝̤̝͓̘͓̲̖̼͖͖̱̘͓̞͔̦̱̞̬̹͚̙̰̼̹͕͙̥͕̓̆̅̀́͒͜͜͠ͅh̸̢̧̢̡̨̧͙͍͙̩͇̼̯̠͉̲͎͚̯͔̤͈̠̺͇̗̼͇̗̦̘̹̯̬̳̣̟̤̩̾̎̈̌͜͜͠ͅͅy̸̢̨̨̡̛͇̳͖̥͕̬̠͉͓̠̩̫̩͕̼͕̞͈̪̺̹̱̺̝̘̮͍̘̞̬̓̾͋̐̋͌̅̒̀́̀̄͛̓́̊̈͜͝ẇ̴͍̳̖̯̣̣̩͉̩̻̲͙̘̩̜̳̭͓͕͔̖̪̀̈́̂̍̉͋̍̏͒̅̽̀͛̀̂͌̊̈́̐̂̚̕͜͝ḧ̵̨̦̼͚̙͔̜͔̫͕͚̙̻̰̲͍͖̪̝̪̱͖̭͔̗͈̩͇̞̘͉͍͕͓́̾̓́̈̂̂͗̐̈́̽̃̈́̓̉̈́̒͌͛͒͋̿̀̔̃͊̉̕͘͜͜ÿ̴̢̛͈̟͔̬̺̖̹͇̻̗͓͔̺̮̲̫̜̹̻̠̯̣̤̬̳̈͊́͗̽̽͆̐́̕̚͝͠w̶̨̧̢̛̛̛̩̟̝̬̫͕̯͇̳̝͍͔̭͉̣̻͍̹̘̜͕͇̪̾̿̀̏̈́̏́̀̎̅̌̊̆̈́̄̌͛̓̈́̓̿̈́̽̓̚̚͝͠͝h̶̛̛͖̙̳̫̻̜̲̝̦͓̬̀͛͂̓̒̿̏̈́̏͋̐̾̋̄͒̅̈̎̍̾̇́̈́̐͗́̎͛̅͐̓̏̍̄̅͗̈́͋̕͘͘̕͝͠y̶̪͕̰͛̀̌͗̄̓̏͌̐̆͆̾̓̌̓̌͝w̴̧̡̙̪̟̪͉̭̹̤͈͚͕͔̫̦̱̯̝̭͉̠̺̟̯̜̠̼̘͙̣̬͙̳̜̞̺̯͉̜̜̻͕̒̑̈́̏͗́̀͐̀̓̔̿̿͒͂̀̉̐̈́̋̈̅̍̔̆̂̂̋̽͒̏̔͛͋̌̎̐̅̌͑͑̒̿̚͝h̶̨̢̡̭̜̘͖͍̮͇̝͓͕̱͉̼̭̭̼͔̯̃̏̈́͗̒͛̈́̀̌̒͌̾̃̓̂̇͛̔̂́̋̿̇̓̒̀̀̈́͊͗͊͌̑̐̓͂͘͘͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅý̵̢̛͍̰̠̖͖̩͎̙̼̣̦̮̻͚́̀̌̊̊̈̑̃̓̓w̶̡̥͓̻̟̳̟͎͇̹̣̤̪͕̝͎̺̱̣̺͈̱̝̪̻͉̻͔̦̺̱͚͚̜̏̂̽̓̈́̑̔͌͗̑̂̏̄̀̀̾̓̊̓̆̀̿̋̍̀̌̈͛͌́̈̿̆̋͆̊̾̐̓̔̍̑̊̚͜͠ͅh̵̡̡̧̛̛͎̜̠̮̗͉̠̰͔̹̣̼͍͖̫̘̰͎̘̙̟̞̬̫̻͚̘͖̽̄͗̆̇̇͑̾̋̓̄̑̈͘̚͝
y̴̡̡̛͙̰͉̰̮̙̗͍̼͍͓̭͓̫̩͔̠̱͖͎̱̮̙̫͖̹̻̜̖̖͙̜̳̮̠͗̏̈́̾̔͋͊͒͆͂̂̎͋͆̀͂̽͜͝ͅw̴̛̛̛͙͊͂̂̄̔̍̇̏̆̈́̒̄͂͗̍́͋͊̎͒̅̿̑͗̉̓̓͂̌͋̇̆́̌͋̿͋̾̎͌͛͛̽͠͝͝͝h̵̨̨̢̢̢̻͔͇̜̳̹̳̰̺̪̹͎̞̱̞̭͓͖̬͕͈̭̹̟͖͔̖͕̙͉̺͍͉̪͍̝͔̲̭͍̘̗̾̉͊͂̀̑́̅̔̌͐̍̇̃̀̔̐̈́̍̀͊͐̽̐̕͜͜͝͝y̵̨̧̧̻̦͎͇̦̣̖͚̝̞̙̗̟̮̭͎̫̠̼͕̖̙̗̜̗͇͕̳̺̤̠̥͓̝̑̃̈́̊͒̅̄̒́̽̔̍́̃̆̅̋̈͆̀̀͐̄͂͂̀̀̚͜͜͜͠͝͠ŵ̴͈͈̮̙͉͖̣̩̬̻̜̌̀̊̎̓̏͝h̷̛̛̹̗͑̇̈́̿̋̈͂̇͐͌̏̈́̇͑͌̍̿̈͐̃͂̆̔̌̚ý̴̨̛̛̘̭̻̰̬͙̙̠̺̘̯̪͕̝̹̱͉̼̲͖̤͇̩̥̮̰͕̃̇̉͊̈́̏̽̀̿̋́͛͊̈́̂̔̿̀̇̅̔͂͆̏̽̿́̀͗̎̉̏͊̔͆̈͘͘͘͘͝͝͠͝ͅͅẇ̵̢̧̙͙͎͉̲̪̘̹̙̫̲̖̮̮̭̰͕͉̘̱̻̲̤̤̰̙̭̘̯̰͚̤̟̙͑̈́̅͑́̒̾̅̀̏̚̚͘h̵̡̢̧̨̢̛̛̞̰̞̪̬̲̜͉̮̙͖̣͉̦̫̪̭̙̤̯͚̤̠̩͉̬̼̫̥͉̪̗͓͖̠̯̻̱̅͒̑̏̂̑̒̓́̋͗͐̍͆́͆͐͛̑̊̓̍̕̚͘̚̚̚͜͜͝͝͝ÿ̵̨̡̡̧͍̤̪̭͖̺̠̻̠̬͖͕͔͎̺̠̣͕͚̠͔̹̬̲́̾̆́̐͒̊̈́̈́͐͋͗̽̐́̐͛̐͒̽́͂͋̃͛̇͒͋̎̀̔͗̾͋́́̿͒̾̉̎͌̊͊̕͘͜͝͝ͅw̷̢̧̧̨̖̭̜͍̟͓̳̻̤̪͈̰̯͙̜̭͉͔̭̖͇̤̻͇̗̬̠̥̼̫̦̤̰̠̖͈̣̰̻͗̈́̍͂͛̓͊̉̋͋̂̂̔̾̾̅͛̔̈́͌̓̄̚͜͜͝͝ͅͅͅh̵̨̛͇̞͈̫̟̼͍̪̟̝̗̮̰̻̱̟̖͑͒́̈́̄̾̉̀͊̀͐̅̋̉̔̕͜͜͠ÿ̷̨̛̤̪̟͈̰̹̗̗̫̳̺̳̖̯̲̱̮͍͖̤̻̣̹̥͖̥̗̺̥̬̟́̿̃͊̔̀̄͋̀͛͐̎͊̍͌̈́̔̃̎̔́̓̅̃̃̀̀͋̀̕̕͘̚͘͘͜ͅͅͅw̵̡̛͎͙̱̺̹͌͆̆͋̇̅̏͆͌̉͑́͒̍̓̃͐̑͛̐̈́͒͐̑̋͆́̒̚̚͠͝͝ͅh̸̺͈͒̈͌̂̅͐͗̉̓͛͋̏̉̐̎̌̾́̓̈́̽̕͝y̸̢̨̢̨̛̛̲̪͖̹̖̞͙̗͉͓͈̮̻̫̥̞̬̱̦̣̘̱̙̩̯̓͌͂͒̏̏̑̃̆̈́́̀̊̄̂́͌̉̆͌̕̚w̴͍̠̙̑̈́̍̀͑͐̇̆̇̋̈́͆͒͌͗̀̂̓̀̀̇̏̍͒̏́̾̓͠͝ḧ̸̨̧̛͈̲̘̻̞̳͇͓̭̻̪̘̘͍͚̳̬̼̯͖̝̠͈̈́̔̎͊͆̅̋͋̇͐͆̊̉̓͒̿́̈̅͗͆͝ͅy̸̧̧̢̨̧̢̟̱̼͖̯̦̲͉̼̪̬̣̭͖̟̩̝͓̝̮̠͇̳̙̖̯̽͂̎́̆͌͐̏̉͌́̆̅̀̐͋̓̓̑͆̈̄̈́̅́͒̓̅͋̀̎̀̃͑́̉̑́̃͗̓̕̚͘͠͝ͅw̷̡̢̡̮̰̣͚͍̪̝̤̟͕͇̻̺̘̺̖̝̯̪͇͇͍̭̭̖̦͈͉̄͑̏̾̒̈́̈́͋͐͌͘̚͜ͅͅh̷̢̡̘̰̳͉͖̯̮̬̥̪͚̜̞̱̺̝̼̳͓̪̮̩̝̤̣̠̗̯͎̦̘͎̳̮̬̖͖̺͇̯̞̬̗̲̃̈́̐͂͗̾͗́̓̋̓̔̐̽̎͌̄̿͌̏̊̈̀̔̚̚ͅͅỹ̷̧̨̧̡̡̢̡̦̞̜͚̪̺̗̳̗͖̠͇̣͕̭̞̹͙̪̼͚̫̳͕͍̪͕̘̀̓̇͂̏̓̈́̄͗̌͋̍̕͝w̶̢̢̛̯͓̬̝̤̺̹̲̱̻͊͂̈͛̉͆̈́̄̍̓͋̑̀͠ḫ̴̱͓͙̣̱͙͙͉̮͓͚̹̼͍̲̦͇̫̻̮͖̥̩̀͌̈́̍̓̅͑̿̐̉͑̐̉̑̏̊͌̓͌̽͆̀̎̈́̀̐͆͂͋̕̚̕ÿ̴̧̨̧̡̡̧̛̛͈͙̱͎̜̠̝̬͈̠͉͓͖͖̰̫͚͙̟̳͕͖̥̥̜̺̲̟́̈́́͛͒̏̌̓͛̍̽̌̆̈́̃̂̽̎̽̇͌́̿͂̈́̈̒̌̓̇́͑̃͐̌͐̃͊͘̕͜͜͠͠͝͝͠͝͠w̸̡̞͕̦̯̥̘̖̲͈̳̔͑̆̈́̀̊̓̉͠ḧ̶̗̞̹̥́̄͌̓̈͂͋̑́̌̑̽̔͋̽̒̎͑̿͂͘̚͘̚͠y̸̨̧̡̨͈̗͙͍̦̦͔̬͔̥̻̪̳͎̳̬̮̲͈͈̘̯͇̫̜̅̾̌̾̽͑̓̀̎̈́̀̈́̏̄͑̌̀̈́͂̿͆̔̏͆͐̑̔̋͑̒̃̏̈́̔̓̕͘͜͠ͅw̶̢̡̳̜͓͍̞͚̼̱̫̟̜̫̟̣̙͉̫̹̪̖̠̮̎̒͜͝͝h̷̢̨̨̨̨̼̱͚̹̼̲͓͉̪̯͉͓͕̮̤͖̝͓͖̫̗̞̼̜͓̖̲̮̟̗̹͚̜͙́̍̿̐̈́̓́͆̅͐̚͝͝͝ͅy̴̧̢͔̝͎̮͚͍̮̮̰̤̘̰͔̖̣̣͉̩̠͔͈̯̰̣̙̤͋̓̄̔͐͌͐̍͑͑͒̑̚̕w̸̢̨̢͈̜̱̲͚̹̰͓̘̙̞̰̪̯̤̦͍͖̲͖̣̼̘͕̖̣̯͇̟̄̌̈́̇̌͊̊̀̔̔͛͛̂̈́̊͋̔͊̇̿̀̔̒̀̾̂͛͘͘͜͠͠͝ͅͅh̶̡̨̡̛̭͖͔̙̺͚͔͓̝̘͇̤̦̞̗͇̝̖̙̲͇̲͔̹̥̪̥̹͖̪̞̪̪̺̤̣͙͖̿͊̇̆̅̏̓̅͑̄͗͐̍̇̋͐̐̀́̌̀̽͋͗̔̀̒̀͆̀͑̌̏̋̆͊̎͐̈̏̚͘͘͘͝͝͠y̴̢̝̲̙͈̞͖̼̫̖̝̋͊̎͑͊̎̃̓̑͗̎̋̔̈̒̄̀̒̃̔͒͜͠w̶̡̛̼͙̫̩͔̘̠̲̰̼̮̳͔̠͔̣͎̃͛̽̿̒̆̓̓͑͛̄͐̀̍́̀̉͌̈́͊̆͗͑̇̔̉̊͂̊̑̾̚͜͜͝͠͝h̵̡̨͙̘͍̹̠̯̲̯̐̎͛̏̂̄̀̈́̈́̈́̎͌̔̉̅̓̉̾̆̌͒̍̽̈́͑̄̿̈́̑͌̄̈́͂̄̏̎͌̀̕͘͝͝͝͠y̶̢̼͙̩̲̱͚͇̲͈͍̝̹̣̰̘̘͔͉͔̼͔͔͎̩̗͔͇̥̥̓̾̀̀̋̆̊̏̑̏̐̒̋̓̌̊̎͊̂̊̍͌͛͆́̽̋̚͘̕͠͠͝͝͝ͅͅw̸̨̧̛̯̩̤̫͔̫̬̤͍̝̹̹͖̞͍̝͓̲̜̫̠̪̜͓͈̞͔͖̌̈́̃̔̑̿̓̊͋̈́́͛̈́̉̐̋̊̍͐̑̿̔̈̔̓͆̅̓̊̀̚̚͜͜͝͝͠h̷̡̛̰̜͈͇̪͕̱̘̲̲̬͛̎͘͜ý̴̧̧̢̛̭͖̫̭̗̣̲̺͓̗͔̹̹̪̻̘̞̝̗̘͚̲̼͕͔̜͔̦̘͚̞̦̝͖͛̋̆̀̒̅͒̔̔͗͂̐͐̓̇̽̒̽̌̐̅̊̾̂̍͗͋͒́́̈́̃͘͘̕͘͘͘͜͝ͅẇ̵̨̡̛͉͎̊́͛́̐͐̍̊̑͒̃̍̀̉͆̽̐̉̽̀̂̋͌̌̏̽̄̄̀̍͊͑̎́̕̚̕͝h̶̞̜̯̬̬͙͇̤͋̀́͂̌̔̇͌̕̚͘͜͜y̶̨̡̨̧̛̛̙͚͉͖̻̞̘̤͇̺̝͉̲̞̝͉͇̻̰̻͚̮͉̙̜̰̳̝͕͕̙͍̥̞̤̜̥̏̾̾̐͒͑̐̓̇̔͌́̈̐̓̐̀̀̆̒̍̃̓̈́͊͐͆͊̐́̎̚͘͝ͅẅ̴̨̡̨̡̧͎͉̬̙̱̩͍̥̲͈̭̺͚̫̦̙̰̯̩͎͖͓͍͇͙̻̻̯̹̜̲̩̜͍̘̪͈̼̖̣̑̒̌̄͛̚͜ͅͅh̵̨̧̢̭̟͍͈̺͓̻̙͚͍̮̱̫̮̠͍̙͖͍̹͔̆̃́͗͌̇̎͐̈́̋̓̅͜͜͜͝ͅͅỵ̶̢̨̘̱͔̲̖̳̖̰̞̯̞̼͚͈͔̣͎̩͙̮͓͕̲̭̟̱̟̤̯͇͛̀̑̍̀̍̌̽̋̾̿͌͑͗̃͑̉̒̍̇͛̏̂̇̆̐͋́̓͋̄͐͑̇̏̑͘̚̕̕̕̕̚͜͝w̴̡̼͈̰̰̙̙̦̘͇̠̲̝̯͔̳̹͎͇̜̪̗͙͉͕͉̮̣̾̈́̃̆͗̅̽̿̓͋͑͜͝͠͝ͅͅĥ̵̨̛̛̬̳̭͉̾͗̊̋̊͒͂̈͑̓̐̓͛͐̑͂̊̈͗̈̏̈́̕̚̚͜͠͠y̷̨̨̨̡̛͓͈͉͍̳̝̝͔̣̟͚̯̤͕̠̞̥͔̘̩̫̼̥͕̤̝̔̏́̔̐̋̽͒͑̋͋̌̉̔̀͂̇̾̓̎̃͊̈́̈́̂̀̋͝͝͝w̵̡̡̡̧̳̼̭̗̙̘̥̘̞̱̙͇̗͖̯̺̣͉̣͉̭̠̙̳͚̘̐̓̿̃̅̋̾͂͒̎̓̃̒̀͐͒̑̿̎̋̾̈́͒͐̓̐̆̊̚͝͠ͅh̶̻̲͓͕̣̯͎̪̟̦̬͇̠̯̍̇͆̈́̓͑̂͌̽̃̏̏͗̅͋̄̿͐̈́̏̈́̋̈̐̀̍͂̽͂̑̇̆̽̂̍͘͘̕̕͘͝͠͠ͅy̷̨̢̦̗̩̟̭̞̟̪̱̭̬̗͔͕͉̬̳͚̥̫̌̄͐̆̀͛̓̓̂͐͑̑̈́͆͆͐̉͋͛͒̎́͆́̃͑̇̿́̍͂̐̈́̃͋͛̓̃͜͠͝
w̷̧̢̨̡̛̤̗̯̣͍͎͈̮͙͓̰̤͙͙̜̜̥͕͔̖̗̯͋͐̆͊̿̑̾͒͌̇̐̇̍̀̽͆͆̉͊̓̓̈̐͋͊͗̀͋̄͛̉̐̇̾̈̑͘͘͠͝͝h̷̢̡͉̗̥̲̞͎̦̖̼̥̘̩̠̘̫̼̱̮̬̩̦̱̘͓̠̒̍͌̈́͂̃̎̔̈́̅̊͌̈̍͆̋̃̇͑̓͂̋̃̊͆́̃̑͆̃̆͛͊̿̔͐̆̒͐͗̈͘͜͜͜͠͝͠ͅͅy̴̧̢͙͕͕̭̳̳͚̥̝̱͙͈̥̹̤͈̙̗͕̝͚͓̥̘̫̜͓͙̩̕w̸̨̢̛͚̦̻̦͇͍̟̠̪͇̰͖̲͔͙͚̪̰̱͎͉̳̜̦̬̤̮̬͖͓̻͖͕̼̥̥̯̪̼̜͓̤͖͙̣͓̃͆̈̐̎̇̉̀̑͊̌̀̀̐̿̒̽͗̍̽̄͒̑͋̊̅͗̉̾͛̋̀̇̇̈́̕͘͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅh̴̢̧̧̛͇̫̤̱̺̞̹̮͇̦͊̀̄̽͐̏̐̇͒̐̂̀̈̅͐̑́̉̇̓̎̉̉̎̔̂̊̏̌̑͘͘͘̕͜͝͠͠͝ͅÿ̵̡̲̳̬̞̣̗͙͕̫̟̦́̽̓͋̈́̓͊̉̃͗̑̇͆̀̾̂̈́̎͐̂̐̽͝w̷̡̢̨̢̨̢̢̨̨̯̰͉̖͚̙͕͈̞̫̼͍͕̞̭̯̫̗͚͓̩̱̠̹̺͙̲̃̔͜ḩ̷̢̛̛̖̰̭̣͉̦̤͕͕̟̻̪̞̱̗͖̫̼̫͔̠̩̪͇̩̝̮̘̝̮̠͊̋̓͑̒̏̿̎̌̎̃̂̌̓̈́̊̽̓̃̾̀̀͆͒̀̉͂̄̈́̊̊̆͂̉͛͌͗͊̆̀͂͗̓̈̽͘͜͝͠y̵̡̮̼̙̥̬͇̤̭̝̲̲̼̘̼̥͕̼͂̍̀͑̽̎̑͛͋̚͝͠w̶̨̭̎͠h̶̼̖͙̓̑͘
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
Next Part: |Part 7: Me and You in Eternity| Listen, Listen okay. If you’re not a massive simp for your partner then what’s the point? These two are such idiots for each other that it’s almost painful. There’s actually more to this chapter. There’s supposed to be like a whole scene underneath the wall of whys, but it took away from the vibes. I’ll just add it to the next chapter lol. If it’s any consolation, at least Alastor and Reader are still married in death? And thus, we end the saga of human! Alastor. Next chapter will go back to hell. I’ll make it up to you guys, I promise :D Taglist: @mybrainautocorrect @ray-rook @teavibesaf @valentique @qardasngan @alastorssimp @aestheticgals-blog @slaggylemon @reikamasama @obessivlyonline @okay-babe @lyralibra @holymusicalmothman @amoraneuro @tobyisher3 @sooha-neul
#alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor the radio demon#alastor x wife!reader#alastor x you#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x wife reader#human alastor#hazbin alastor x reader#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel headcanons#hazbin hotel headcanon#hazbin hotel fanfiction#Hazbin Hotel#hazbin hotel imagines
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whether you like it or not, YES, obsessively reading love/your person/crush/FS/etc. tarot readings is bad for you.
even if you’re just reading them for fun (like i was), you have to really think about it. first, every reading you click on requires some kind of energetic connection with the reader. if you read/watch multiple of these things a day you’ve got a bunch of strangers all up in your energy all the time and that’s just not going to be a good thing. buying personal ones is included in this.
youtube randomly recommended me a video of a woman explaining that we as clients come to these readings because, most likely, our situations are so unfulfilling or confusing so we seek answers through tarot. this is natural imo and isn’t a sign of bad character or anything, but we have to accept that some things are meant to be a mystery to us. beyond that, a tarot reader (especially one doing PACs or collective readings) can only pick up on the energy of the querent. the other person’s energy cannot be picked up on without consent, which means that tarot readers read your energy and the way you interpret your person’s energy. this means that if you see your person as hot-and-cold and are holding onto hope for a connection that clearly isn’t working, the reader is going to tell you exactly what you’re thinking because the only way that 3rd party person’s energy can be accessed is through the footprint it leaves in your aura.
not only does this mean that — if you consume these readings often — you’re consistently getting told a false one-sided narrative, but it also inherently establishes its own reward system that keeps you coming back for me. for example, you tell yourself that your person likes you (and maybe they do!) but they’re scared of their feelings for you which is why they ghost you. when you receive a reading that says this, it affirms to you that you were right, and the reading was “accurate”. worse than that, these readings and your dependency on them can easily be used to justify clinging on to a relationship or connection that isn’t working. your person goes cold and you run to a tarot reading basically to be told that there is some hope, actually, and now instead of dealing with the difficult feelings that come with romantic disappointment and growing through that, you’re stuck in the stagnant state of waiting for reality to match up to the picture in your head. realistically, the healthiest thing for you to do is move on from this person and work on yourself.
this isn’t to say that all tarot readings are terrible, because i don’t think that at all. tarot can definitely be a great tool for self-discovery and just for getting some direction in life. i also don’t think there’s a problem with doing love readings for yourself as long as it’s not constant and obsessive.
if you find yourself looking for affirmation from these readings, you should instead shift your focus to readings about your shadow self, where you need to grow and heal, and other things like that. we cling on to these lackluster connections because of something in our past that makes disappointing people attractive to us. i know a lot of you on here are very defensive about your precious PAC readings, but the fact of the matter is that you read them because either your love life is nonexistent and you have to consume what is essentially self-insert fanfiction to cope (i’m not coming for you bc i’m in that camp) OR you do have some connection with someone but they are falling short or disappointing you in such a way that direct communication is not possible and you have to turn to an outside source for some kind of answer.
at the end of the day, if you actually care about yourself, you’re going to have to do the (very hard) work of finding security in yourself and who you are. these readings and any relationships you have or aspire to have are never going to replace that. and frankly a few of you seem to put too much weight on the meaning of these readings. i remember someone said they don’t bother to put any effort into their current relationships anymore because they “know” their current partner isn’t the one bc it doesn’t match up to what they’ve read in FS readings. at some point you need to use your common sense. the readings get hundreds of notes and thousands of views and there’s no way you can rationally justify making decisions like that based off of something meant to apply to everyone who watches and not just you specifically.
i’m making this post because i’ve stopped consuming readings like this and i actually feel so much better mentally and spiritually. they actually are fully capable of making you completely delusional as well, which in some contexts isn’t exactly a bad thing but it’s not a great state to be in when it comes to your interpersonal relationships. ultimately i hope that i’m able to at least of few other people break their pattern and kickstart a genuine healing journey.
i don’t use this app often, tbh so if you get mad in my replies you might as well take it up with god because i’m not looking and if i am looking i’m not caring at the same time. toodles!!
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SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hello again, gendarme.” He smiles at you— not from his usual post, but from one of the cafeteria tables. A small sketchbook is laid out in front of him, along with some odd gray sticks.
ENCYCLOPEDIA — Compressed graphite. Not quite as bold or blendable as charcoal, but certainly less messy.
EMPATHY — Garte will appreciate it.
“I’d like to talk about the case again.”
“You moved! I didn’t know you could do that.”
“What are you drawing?”
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “That’s the question, isn’t it?” His smile turns a little rueful. “I found one of my old sketchbooks and thought I’d like to fill the last few empty pages, but I’m finding myself a little… uninspired.”
CONCEPTUALIZATION — The accursed artist’s block. Staring down an empty page only for it to stare back, mocking you.
EMPATHY — He is unsure of himself. He said this was an old sketchbook. Maybe he’s afraid of drawing something new beside his old work and seeing that nothing has changed.
“Ah, yes. Artist’s block. I know it well. In fact, I don’t know when the last time that I actually *made* any art was.”
“You could draw the cafeteria.”
“You could draw one of the other diners.”
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “A life drawing exercise, huh? And who would you pick as a subject, gendarme?”
“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”
“Maybe Garte? The skua could be a fun challenge.”
“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”
“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”
“Kim, how about you pose for him?”
[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”
KIM KITSURAGI — “No.”
He has nothing more to say on the matter.
“Aw, why not? You’d make a great model!”
Let it go.
KIM KITSURAGI — “I do not get paid to model for portraits. I get paid to solve murders. Such as the one we came here to investigate. Several days ago. Which has not been solved yet, for some mysterious reason.”
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — In case you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm.
“Come on, Kim. You’re the perfect subject! A true man of the people. And there’s this sort of radiance about you… I can see the portrait already, just looking at you. Really clearly, actually.”
Maybe don’t say that. He’s just not gonna get it.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs. “Sorry, gendarme. It’s not right to use someone’s image without permission, you know? Maybe some other time.”
KIM KITSURAGI — “No.” And then, a little awkwardly, “But thank you.”
“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”
“How about Garte? Though, you’d have to draw the skua, too…”
“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”
“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”
“Kim, how about you pose for him?”
[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”
CHECK SUCCESS
YOU — “Why not me?”
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He considers you with some amusement, but still, he does consider. “You’re not too busy?”
“On second thought, you’re right, I have some work to do right now. Another time, maybe?”
“Nope. Not at all.”
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant sighs audibly.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — What did I *just* say?
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He chuckles to himself, apparently quite tickled by the little comedy act you two are making of yourselves. “Beautiful. Why not? Have a seat. I’ll try not to keep you too long.”
KIM KITSURAGI — “Much appreciated,” he says drily.
YOU — [Take a seat.]
SAVOIR FAIRE — Time to strike a pose. Let’s go with something cool. Something that really captures what you’re all about.
ENDURANCE — But make sure it’s something that you’ll be able to hold comfortably.
Wink and shoot him your signature finger guns.
Look at him with big sad eyes like a shamed puppy.
Look thoughtfully into the middle distance, as if contemplating your own future masterpiece.
Stare straight at him with eyes that have seen how this world will end.
Hold your head up high. With *honor.*
Just sit and act natural. No need to put on airs.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He looks you up and down, thumbing his bottom lip. His eyes look brighter and more alert than you have ever seen them. And then, he picks up his graphite and begins to work.
His eyes dart between you and the page, his hand sweeping across the page in bold, practiced strokes. All traces of his earlier hesitation have vanished.
VOLITION — Sometimes, a little push is all we need.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — Every now and then, he pauses to look up at you, and it’s almost unnerving to be the subject of whatever calculations are going on behind his eyes. He holds out his graphite, squinting just slightly.
VISUAL CALCULUS — This is called sighting. He’s roughly measuring the relative proportions of your figure and checking them against his sketch.
KIM KITSURAGI — Even the lieutenant is watching now, interested in spite of himself.
“Are portraits your specialty?”
“Have you been drawing anything for school lately?”
Better not distract him.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hmm…” He ponders this for a moment, not looking up from his work. “Not exactly. I’m more interested in the graphic arts than this sort of thing. But it’s best to build a strong foundation before branching out, you know?”
YOU — “Graphic arts? Like what?”
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Printmaking.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he speaks, seemingly without him even noticing. “Monotype, especially.”
ENCYCLOPEDIA — Monotype is a printmaking technique that is singular from other techniques, in that it produces only *one* unique print, rather than an edition of multiple prints.
YOU — What, really? What’s the point of printing it, then?
ENCYCLOPEDIA — I don’t know. I didn’t invent it.
“Why monotype? Wouldn’t a different technique be more… practical?”
“I see.” [Drop the subject.]
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs slightly, smudging a bit of graphite with a bare finger. “Depends on how you define practical, I suppose. If I had my own studio, and I was selling my prints, then maybe. But we make do with what we have, gendarme.”
EMPATHY — And what he has is very little.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Besides, I think monotype has its charms.”
The young man does not elaborate, instead focusing on the work at hand. He picks up an eraser that has been shaved down to a point for fine detail work, and begins on what are likely the finishing touches.
EMPATHY — He has already talked at uncharacteristic length about this. It’s making him a little uncomfortable.
SAVOIR FAIRE — He doesn’t like to share too much about himself because it makes him feel *uncool.* He prefers to maintain an air of mystery.
RHETORIC — It’s safer, too, that way. He’s learned that passion exists to be exploited. False promises and admiration are the offerings of Sunday friends.
“If you say so.” [Back off.]
“What kind of charms?” [Press on.]
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His eyes flit back to you, sizing you up now in a different way. And then he looks back down at the page with a quiet bre ath.
“Well, it doesn’t take as much time or labor as other methods. Or expensive tools, or dangerous chemicals. Just paper, a plate, ink, and something to apply it with. And I can use the same plate over and over again, even use it to create different layers for the same print.”
RHETORIC — In other words, it’s cheap and can be done from home. An attractive option.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “And with monotype, it’s not so hard to go back and change your mind. You can start over as many times as you’d like, right up until the moment you lay the page on the plate.”
INLAND EMPIRE — That really does sound attractive. To be able to wipe the slate clean, over and over again…
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There aren’t as many limits on what kind of textures you can create, too. Brushstrokes and fingerprints… They can really come out beautiful.”
His brow creases a little, and he picks his graphite back up to rework a particular area.
DRAMA — He’s still holding out on you, sire. Too self-conscious to admit what he really likes about the medium.
YOU — Which is what?
EMPATHY — Fragility.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — An image which is only complete after being mirrored and translated, never to be recreated except as a ghostly afterimage. An exercise in surrendering to chance. What will be, will be. And then the moment will pass, and it will be time to start the next piece.
VOLITION — This man knows disappointment intimately. It is his closest companion. He has learned to make peace with it. He passes the time with his Sunday friends, lays his paper on the plate and hopes, despite himself, for the best.
YOU — Is that… a good thing?
VOLITION — …It’s hard to say. But we make do with what we have.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There.” The young man sits up straight, and it’s only now that you realize just how close he brought himself to his work.
DRAMA — His face may not betray him, but the body does not lie. He was having *fun,* my liege.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “All done.” He tears the page from his book and holds it out to you with a small smile.
ITEM GAINED: Portrait of a Disco Holdover
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hope I didn’t keep you too long.”
KIM KITSURAGI — “Don’t worry about it,” Kim says, rather resignedly.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — If you’d declined, the lieutenant thinks, my partner would have just found some other way to get sidetracked.
KIM KITSURAGI — Still, he cannot stop himself from glancing at the portrait over your shoulder.
PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — It’s you! Unfortunately. Not even the most masterful hand could make the Expression less unsettling to look at. Your posture is poor, your face is swollen and blotchy, your hair is thinning, your clothes are shabby and out of place… I could go on.
Oh god, you could?
Please don’t.
PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — But, you know… it’s nice. The smoker’s technique is bold and rather lovely, broad strokes of graphite intersecting in just the right places to create surprising depths. Somehow, even though it’s you… it’s not hideous.
EMPATHY — Because you’re seeing yourself through another person’s eyes.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — There is an odd tenderness to the portrait. Something amusing in your grimace, a touch of sympathy in your hunched shoulders. With the eraser, he has lifted small spots of pigment from your face, as if it were illuminated by flecks of light from the karaoke disco ball.
There are no disco lights tonight, but still, he sees them when he looks at you. Your moment has passed, but it left quite the impression. A ghost print, superimposed over you.
“Not bad, but the bicep girth is off. Right, Kim?”
“Oh god, is that really what I look like?”
“Hmm. It’s okay, but you should consider a backup career plan.”
“Whoa, you’re amazing! Can you draw me again, but this time in the costume from the cover of Man from Hjelmdall and the Devil Woman? And like, with a really cool warhammer? And Queen Lydiaana standing in the background, all like, ‘boohoo, where will I ever find another man like Ha— I mean, the Man from Hjelmdall?’”
“Beautiful.”
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His smile climbs up into the corners of his eyes, warming his entire countenance.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — If you were to capture a portrait of him in this moment, it would be beautiful, too.
#disco elysium#harry du bois#the smoker on the balcony#kim kitsuragi#this one is. so self indulgent. i like the smoker i like to think abt him#and assign him my art student interests#anyway. oh the joy of making art and showing ppl what they rlly look like in your eyes#and oh the beauty of monotypes and printmaking and hoping for the best#GODDAMMIT I FUCKED UP THE FORMATTING AGAIN AND DIDNT CATCH IT UNTIL LIKE 12 HOURS LATER.#if you saw that. no you didn’t.
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Forbidden love trope with Jason grace plss
⋆·˚ ༘ * this love is difficult, but it’s real
warnings: renaissance era, I changed a bunch of things from the play because shakespeare was on something, one sexual insinuation, tons of dialogue, this honestly isn’t my best work
pairing: romeo coded! jason grace x juliet coded! reader (daughter of ares and aphrodite)
a/n: forbidden love trope? you know my literature loving ass is gonna do something romeo and juliet inspired
two households, both alike in dignity- just kidding that’s not where this is going
a crowded room, the sound of people talking around you. a banquet set up by your parents- unexpected but it’s typical for them, you assume they’re trying to set you up with another boy when they drag you to meet another prince- percy jackson wishes to take your hand in marriage and your parents agree with it. you don’t even know the man! small talk doesn’t get you places and that seems to be the only thing this boy knows
“lovely weather today” he says
you lean your head against a pillar “I suppose”
“what do you enjoy in your free time?”
“many things”
“such as…?”
he won’t give up will he?
“reading, painting, not very much”
he nods his head “I adore sword fighting, but often swimming when I’m not”
your eyes scan around the room as he continues on about his many hobbies, nothing you care about, although when you think about it you don’t care about percy himself. boys, boys, boys! all mean at this absurd party, why can’t you chose a husband on your own? your eyes stop when they meet electric blue ones, yet covered by a mask, who is this strange boy? you must get to know him!
“percy?”
“yes?”
“could I be excused for a moment? I have to use the restroom”
“yes that’s quite fine, when you get back I’ll tell you about my great adventure over mountaintops”
you give him a half-smile before rushing off. would a mysterious look be okay? or should you approach the boy immediately? yes! let him approach you first
you take a drink from a waiter and lean your back against the nearest pillar. a mysterious look will do you good in this situation
waiting, waiting… will the boy ever talk to you?
“quite a boring banquet don’t you think?”
you turn around, the blue-eyed boy stands behind the pillar, you move to the opposite side with him
“my parents want me married off to that boy” you point to percy across the room who seemingly found another woman to torture with dreadful stories
“do you want to?”
“want to what?”
“marry him?”
you shake your head “who are you?”
he hesitates “why don’t we ditch?”
“I can’t do that”
“why not?”
“my parents will be furious”
“so what? they’re busy anyways”
you sigh “only for a little while”
he takes your hand in his and you allow him to drag you outside the palace to the garden, flower filled courtesy of demeter
“what is your name?” you ask
“If I tell you will you kick me out?”
“why would I do that?”
“you’ll realize”
“so what is it?”
he removes his mask “jason grace”
oh…
“oh my gods, son of zeus! I should have known. what are you doing here? our fathers will kill us!”
“I had to see you” he takes both of your hands in his yet again
“why? what is so important that you had to risk your life?”
“I’m in love with you” he puts your hands over his heart, you feel his rapid heartbeat
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ve been pining over you for so long, I came here to ask for your hand in marriage”
“oh my gods oh my gods, we can’t marry and you know that!”
“please. In secret even would be fine”
“how the hell do you want me to secretly marry you?”
“I have a friend who will be willing to do it”
“don’t you think this is sudden?”
“would you rather marry that other boy?”
“I suppose not…”
“then will I see you tomorrow morning?”
marry the son of poseidon who shows interest in every woman, not loyal, and talks a lot, or the son of zeus who has supposedly been in love with you for years and risked his life to see you?
“meet me at my bedrooms balcony, seven sharp” you point to your balcony
“I won’t be late” he gives you a heart-stopping smile
before he runs off he places a kiss on your lips, quick but lovely. you await his next arrival
⚔️
you hate waking early in the morning. you were the one who arranged the time though and in a half an hour you would be getting married to a boy you barely knew, a handsome one though you wouldn’t complain
you followed your morning routine like usual, careful to stay silent as you assume most of your family will be asleep after the long party the previous night
should you dress fancy since it’s a wedding or casual because it’s secret? makeup or natural look? too many decisions to make! you put on a simple pink dress, nothing too much but still good enough for a wedding. a few touch ups with makeup and check the time on your wall clock 6:58 it reads. he would be here any moment. you rush to your balcony and catch sigh of the blond boy walking up to your castle
you manage to climb over the railing to grab hold of the vines to climb down, nearly impossible to do with your dress on. when you (finally) make it to the bottom you hold up your dress and run to the boy
out of breath you put your hands on your knees but not before holding up a singular finger to indicate you needed a minute
“do you run much?” asks jason
“not at all”
you go back to regular posture as your breathing slows back down “let’s get married now, shall we?”
“we shall”
you loop arms and go on your way to- wait… you don’t even know where you’re going. hope it’s not dangerous
when you arrive you see a worn down house, belonging to who? you don’t know
“the person that’s going to marry us lives in there? Is he certified?” you inquire
“I don’t think so. he’s cool though”
when you walk in the house your greeted by a hyperactive boy, assumed to be around your age
“I’ve been waiting, what took so long?” the boy says
“long walk” jason shrugs “anyways- y/n this is leo, and you already know her so…”
leo beams “great! let’s get this ceremony started!”
not much of a set up, not much of a big ceremony. It was a simple ‘say your vows then kiss let’s get this over with’ for reason one because leo was not legally certified to do this and two because you knew zeus had many eyes and took forms of exotic animals (he could be anywhere- this horrifies you)
not only was leo not certified, he additionally didn’t know how to officiate a wedding. a bunch of nonsense about love spilled from his mouth and you couldn’t find it in you to care anymore
“you may now kiss the bride! but not in front of me, please don’t do that in front of me”
you give him a concerned look. and mouth and mutter an ‘okay’ with a slow nod of your head. he was weird wasn’t he?
once you exited the house you got your chance for a kiss- to cement your marriage. however jason has other ideas
“why don’t we go to your palace to consummate our marriage?”
#xoxochb#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo series#pjo fandom#percy jackson#pjo#percy series#pjo hoo toa#jason grace imagines#jason grace x y/n#jason grace x you#jason grace x reader#jason grace
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🔔 It's December! That means it's One Direction Advent fic season! Advent fics are generally posted daily from December 1 to December 24/25. Don't forget you can subscribe to the author to get a daily email reminder to read their Advent fic! 🔔
🌟 Baking In December by Itstilliswhatitis
Louis can't believe it! His sisters signed him up for a competition at some bakery and they won! Now he has to spend every day of December baking something with a random dude. Except, the random dude is named Harry and he's hot! Louis realises that this Christmas might be extra special!
🎁 Be Merry All by @justanothershadeofblue {Fic post}
there is a specific sort of oppression that comes with a miserable so-cal christmas, when it’s dark and dirty and rainy or else it's too hot and too bright and everyone’s hustling, and your family is all far away and the laundry machines in your building are broken and you’ve eaten too much take-out and all you want is two seconds of quiet and maybe a morsel of holiday joy.
🕯️ Can I Fly Home by @sadaveniren {Fic post}
“Nothing? A seventy-eight year old woman just gave birth. It’s clearly supernatural stuff at work. How could you say no?” “No.” “Come on, the mystery has to be getting to you just a little.” “Granny being horny isn’t a mystery, Lou. We’re supposed to be on a break until the new year. The real mystery is why you aren’t content to just stay in one place. We’ve hunted everything imaginable to hunt.” “And yet weird shit still ends up happening, fancy that.” He saw Louis change tactics, sticking out his lower lip, pleading. “Please? Check it out with me and then maybe we’ll come back here for Christmas.” AKA Louis and Harry have been hunting together since they were teenagers and it's beginning to take a toll. Harry wants to retire. Louis plans to die hunting. Maybe a "Christmas Miracle" is just what they need. An advent fic.
🦌 Christmas Advent Calendar by enchantedlandcoffee / @alarrylittlechristmas {Fic post}
A collection of holiday drabbles written and posted leading up to Christmas. One posted per day.
🥁 Heart Beat by @allwaswell16 {Fic post}
Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums.
⛄ the holiday remix - choose ur adventure advent series by warmcuppatea / @hlplease {Fic post}
“I love you so much, yeah? And we’ve talked about moving in together when my lease ends. And we’ll be spending so much time together for the holidays, and you know, we get on so smashingly-” “Louis-” Harry laughed. “Spit it out!” “-So I was thinking,” Louis laughed, rubbing his face. “Fuck, I don’t know why I’m so nervous!” He laughed. “I was thinking we should test-run living together this month.” Harry and Louis are very in love, but moving in together feels huge. So, naturally, Louis has the idea to do a holiday test-run.
🔔I'll Be Home For Christmas by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 {Fic post}
Harry's life seems to be going well. He has a great job working at Festive Furnishings, he has an amazing three year old son called Danny, and his favourite time of the year is approaching. Just as Harry thinks everything is finally going to plan, he finds out that he is going to be losing his home just before Christmas. Louis Tomlinson is happy enough with his lot. He's the CEO of a company he started years ago, Festive Furnishings, he has great colleagues, especially his assistant Harry, and he has the best nephew in the world. But the thing is, Louis is lonely. He has a beautiful house but it's too quiet, especially at this time of year. Not that he'd admit that to anyone. While struggling to find somewhere warm and safe for himself and Danny to stay, Harry makes a decision that might just change the course of everything... and bring himself and Louis closer together as well...
🍪 I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours {Fic post}
Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on now, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype. It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words...and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.
🎄 kay's 25 days of smutmas by shiptattou / @wecantalktomorrow {Fic post}
Starting on December 1st, I will be posting a new smut fic everyday until Christmas! These are all one shots of varying lengths and content. As they are posted, I will add the links to this post, summaries and lengths will be included under the break! All fics will be Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson.
💌 Lonely Cards Club by @hellolovers13 {Fic post}
Harry's life in Cardiff is rather uneventful. Until he receives a strange Christmas postcard. It gets even stranger when he finds another one the next day. An Advent story about missed opportunities and second chances.
❤️ Love Actually [L.S.] by @louisthiccsexyglitteryass {Fic post}
Louis Tomlinson has just became Prime Minister of the UK. Harry Styles is a housekeeper at 10 Downing Street. Louis can't help but be enthralled with Harry. But, unfortunately, love has a funny of fucking punching you in the gut.
🎅 Neondiamond's 2023 Christmas Ficlet Party {Fic post}
If you know me at all, you’ll know that two of the things I enjoy most are writing fluffy ficlets, and Christmas. This year, I decided to combine the two and create my own little Christmas ficlet party all throughout December! 8 ficlets, 4 different pairings, many different tropes—all short, fluffy and festive! Perfect for a quick reading break with a warm drink!
☃️ Snow In Love by @lululawrence {Fic post}
Harry and Louis are best friends and have been for basically as long as they can remember. For the first time since middle school, they are both single for the holidays leaving them with the brilliant idea to take each other as their dates to work events. To make things easier they will pretend like they’re dating. But then they learn something funny. People thought they were already dating. Weird. An advent fic featuring childhood friends, fake dating turned actual dating, really horrible secret keeping, and a winter weather surprise.
🌲 'tis the damn season by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf {Fic post}
Harry returns to her small hometown over the holiday season and starts to think about the road not taken.
🔔 they're singing 'deck the halls' (but it's not like christmas at all) by doesanyonehearrunningwotah
Louis Tomlinson is no fan of Christmas. Between his douchebag ex-husband/co-parent, his two teenage kids, and the awful fact of his torn-apart family, the holiday season isn't looking to be all that festive. But maybe a boy's trip with his closest friends will lead him to something that'll make the season a little more bearable. Or the one where Louis' a bit of a grinch, Harry's a gorgeous present, and there's more weight to the past than either of them would like.
❄️ We Can Roll in the Darkness by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 {Fic post}
Top and Bottom Construction Co. - “We’ll get the job done, however you prefer it!” Louis looks up from the flyer, and back at Niall. “You must be joking?” Niall shakes his head, his mischievous grin only going wider. “Nope! I already researched them. They have glowing reviews AND they’re affordable. It’s perfect!” He pauses then to give Louis a cheeky wink. “Besides their website says they’re full service.” (Or the one where Louis and his best mate Niall decide to take the plunge and open a pub. The goal is to open Christmas Day, but the building renovations are proving trickier than expected. Insert: a construction company with a questionable name, a certain curly haired builder who catches Louis’ attention, and a little festive chaos along the way).
✨ You Ain’t Gotta Feel Fear Just Mingle by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup {Fic post}
Harry has been at his dream job for less than three months, and he knows two things for sure; first, his project manager doesn't know what he's doing, and second, someone in the office is apparently pure evil, and no one will tell Harry who it is. Oh, and the guy who works in conservation at the other end of the building is the most beautiful man Harry's ever seen, even when wielding a hot iron as a weapon. Happy Christmas, here's to many more.
#these are in alphabetical order because that's how I roll#adventfics#advent2023#hlcreators#hljournal#trackinghome#trackinghappily#1dficvillage#ficsfor4am
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Doppelganger and Reincarnation or how I believe new Vad / Wat isn’t what she seems to be in Century of Love (ep 6) :
Century of Love plot relies heavily on the idea of reincarnation. San made a deal with the goddess Nuwa. He has 100 years to find the reincarnation of his lover. In the meantime he is suffering from great pain every night. San has only one purpose and it's to find her. Over the years, he hasn't made progress. He is stuck in the past and the years are starting to weight on him. That's why, despite staying young he is acting a lot like a meanie grandpa.
It's the second series directed by Worawit Khuttiyayothin where you can find the representation of Chinese culture. Thai Chinese culture were represented a lot in another of his work To Sir, With Love. If in this work, Worawit Khuttiyayothin showed how the local the local Chinese community was dominating the domestic commerce of Thailand, in Century of Love, he shows a story inspired by the Chinese Folk religion and Buddhism. The goddess Nuwa is considered as the creator of mankind in Chinese mythology. I found weird that she was the goddess they decided to use for this series as she doesn't seem to have anything to do with the afterlife. I guess it's because she indeed used the five-colored stones and it was a device that could be used for the story. After all, when written a work of fiction, we don't always have to select the right god of goddess to use in your stories.
As she is presented in Buddhism and reincarnation is an important part of the plot of the stories, I believe it's important to show the link between the two. I'm not well-knowledgeable on Buddhism. I just knew reincarnation is a part of the belief. Karma influences your rebirth and the cycle of birth and death is endless. The story capitalize also on this idea. While looking for information about reincarnation in Buddhism I came upon the idea that there is no soul moving from one reincarnation to another. Also the consciousnesses of the new reborn is neither identical neither entirely different from his previous incarnation. I guess the screenwriter didn't want to rely too much on the different beliefs of Buddhism to make the story easier to follow by everyone. However, I think it would have been great to introduce this idea because it would explain why Vee could be considered the reincarnation of Vad / Wat even though he doesn't look or acts like her. Even if he is different from her, he still has the same care for others as she had and it would emphasize this “continuum” that is supposed to exist between different reincarnation. San could gradually accept the idea that Vee and his Vad / Wat would be the same being.
However, they decided to keep the idea of the reincarnation who has to look like his/her past self and he/she is able to remember some part of their past life. That's why the confusion of the arrival of New Vad / Wat works. By the end of episode 6, when San has finally accepted his feelings for Vee and the idea that he could be the reincarnation of his lover, New Vad / Wat came to his door. No doubts she is here to cause trouble. I think we can already accept it's going to confuse San. Previously, he met Third, the doctor and childhood friend of Vee who had the same face as Lord Trai, Vad / Wat's fiancé. Several time, Third admitted he felt like he already knew San and lost to him. The story seems to make us want to see him as the reincarnation of Lord Trai. San was even confused by the fact he was the copy carbon physically of the Lord, while Vee isn't looking at all like Vad / Wat. Tao has the best answer about that and it's simply that he can't explain everything. It works perfectly for the story because anything that is as magical as reincarnation shouldn't be something you can rationalize. It keeps the mystery open and it's good for the series. It engages the viewers and keep us entertain. Not being able to have all the answers, let the possibility for New Vad / Wat to exist into the story.
As for me, I don't want to see New Vad / Wat has the true reincarnation of past Vad / Wat. I know there are viewers who believe Vee is the true reincarnation and others who don't think he is. That's perfectly fine because this is what the story wants us to think. We are always presented with these two possibilities. However, since I'm not in favor of New Vad / Wat being the true reincarnation. I will explain why. In fantasy genre you can find the figure of the Doppelganger. It's a someone who looks exactly like someone else but who is not related to that person. It works perfectly well with New Vad / Wat as she looks like past Vad / Wat. Sometimes the Doppelganger is used as an evil twin in stories. New Vad / Wat is physically nearly identical to the past Vad / Wat, but she could have a radically inverted morality. Past Vad / Wat was a very caring and loving person, that's why San fell in love with her. However, we know that there are people who seek the power of the five-colored stone. They know it must be willingly given if they want to access the power of the stone. They also know San is looking for a woman and his family and Tao used a drawing of the person they are looking for. It wouldn't be too complicated to find someone who look the same and who can act as her to get the stone. Vad / Wat is inherently link to the stone.
I may be wrong, of course. After all, it's just pure speculation. I just like to imagine how things could be. It's also fun to compare reincarnation and doppelganger. This series is just fit for all these thoughts.
#thai series#thai bl#bl drama#bl series#century of love#century of loves the series#episode 6#episode 5#sanvee#san x vee#vad / wat#reincarnation#doppelganger#my thoughts
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sooooo, i wanted to make this because i apparently cant reblog and i have no idea why. (i'm referencing the little...challenge? however you want to call it by @drinkyourvillainjuice.
anyway here it is, i also added a few fanfics just cause.
The Second Sight @spoiledblog (demo) You’re an urban legend in a county full of them. When you were thirteen, you were found passed out in the road by one of the local cops. No missing persons report. No fingerprints on file. No memories. Just a name.Oh, and some bizarre psychic powers.You're content with simplicity. You like your isolated cabin and helping Carter track down missing persons. You know that in theory there are more people like you out there, but you've never wanted to look behind the curtain to find out.However, with the disappearance of a local teen named Casey Powell and a recent attempt on your foster father's life, your serene, isolated life comes abruptly to its end and a new chapter begins.
After The End @albywritesfiction (demo)
Your former fiancé and heir apparent of the Aurelian Kingdom, Prince Ædan, has married the love of his life, the fair Saintess Helene. As the nation celebrates their union, you are left alone to pick up the pieces of your broken heart... until you receive two letters. One is an invitation to the office of Prince Ædric, the crown prince's younger brother and rival for the throne. The other is a letter filled with concern from your childhood friend and secretary-in-training, Cyfrin, who is currently assisting your father at your family’s ducal estate in the countryside. Each letter contains a proposition that will change the course of your fate forever.
Which one will you choose?
God-Cursed @wings-of-ink (Demo)
you were found as a newborn, clutched in the arms of your dead mother at the base of a tree. No family came to claim you, but the men who came to your rescue adopted you as their own and became the only parents you’ve ever known. Growing up in the village of Stonebrook, you never want for much, until the day you first fall ill. Life plagues you with a mysterious condition that no one can diagnose or cure. You never know when it will strike or if it will eventually kill you. Living between fear and hope as you age, you try to come into your own as an adult with the ever-looming threat above you. As years pass, your condition seems to improve, until a mysterious mark appears on your body and opens up new questions.
It appears that you’re marked for death with no answers as to why, and your only chance to survive is to go out and seek them.
Journey through the land of Iroda, a fantasy world where the gods have abandoned their people and magic no longer prevails as it once did. Something is brewing that may change this world forever, and you’re in the middle of it, though your role is a mystery you must solve. Wanted dead by some and alive for mysterious purposes by others, you just want to survive. With the help of a few friends, find the answers that you need, and make your choices.
Before We are Ghosts @anjiefiction (DEMO) When a powerful villain threatens the safety of Metamora, you and the city’s heroes go to great lengths to stop him, and ultimately you are forced to pay the biggest price of all.(Against all odds, the heroes win. The victory is hollow.)The doctors are professional, if not sympathetic. They tell you that your body is in the process of slowly shutting down. No, they aren’t sure why. No, there isn’t a cure. When you ask how much time you have left, the faces grow dark. Perhaps a year, they say. Two if you’re lucky.(You thought you could rest. You thought wrong again.)For as threats resurge and the past rears its ugly head, you can only wonder: Do you have the strength to see things through? Will there be enough time?And when the end comes, can you find the courage to say goodbye?
more than me @ryanstillwrites-if (Demo) On a Wednesday morning, you leave your doctor's office with the diagnosis of an inoperable brain tumour and the knowledge of an estimated four months left to live.Suddenly left without any direction in your life, you find yourself in a support group for the terminally ill. Where you expected to find sadness, melancholy and a looming sense of dread at thought of a fast approaching death - all the same feelings you harbour - you find smiles and laughter instead.You're drawn in by the people you meet there, curious and confused by their carefree attitudes. They're kind to you, they take you in, they turn your frown upside down - literally and figuratively. And just when you think you might be beginning to accept your fate; they decide to throw all caution to the wind and whisk you away on the adventure of a lifetime.You don't know what will come of the next four months but with your new friends at your side, you're excited to find out. After all, this is the only life you've been given, and though it may be ending soon; you might as well live it to the fullest.
Omen of Ice @omen-of-ice (no demo) The North has been all that you’ve known your whole life— residing within its icy landscape as part of House Eirlys; Wardens of the North. You’ve never thought you’d one day leave to head south to Vela’thian— the kingdom of the elvhen— much less that you’d head there due to your betrothal with the king himself.What will await you once you arrive? Is everything as it seems? Or is there something more brewing beneath the surface of the seemingly pristine nation?Will you find your way back home? Or will you find something, or someone, worth staying for?Let’s see how your story unfolds…
Mons Immortalium @mons-immortalium-if (DEMO) Mons Immortalium is a fantasy romance interactive story. Human MC falls into the magical land of the faeries, a mountain island that has been secluded from the rest of the world for over a millennium. Break curses, fall in love and beware of wicked faeries. Whatever you do, never give them your true name!
In the Cards @inthecards (demo)
You've always had psychic powers. Reading auras, speaking with the dead, and channeling spiritual energy through runes - these number just a few of the things you're capable of. It's not an unusual gift in the kingdom of Khepris, though it's uncommon enough that you've only met a few other people with such abilities in your small hometown.
After a plague sweeps through the kingdom, unrest bubbles up in the realm known as the Beyond, home to fae and spirits alike. A group of fae who call themselves the Butterfly Court are testing the boundaries between your worlds, and they don't seem to care what harm they may be causing along the way.
With a deck of tarot cards imbued with mystical powers in your possession, you're pulled into the struggle against the Butterfly Court. You must join one of two organizations - the King's Guardians or the Hounds - in order to fight back against this mysterious court… or risk losing everything.
Parasitical @parasitical-if (DEMO)
His flesh, our sustenance. His blood, our drink. His bones, our foundation, His body, our haven.
Five hundred years ago, the Earth was dying. Water polluted, dirt infertile, forests and meadows crumbling to the wars of steel and fire. And so the Order called His Grace, the Lord of Communion, down from where he rested before and He allowed humanity to rest inside his body.
Or at least, that's the story the Order tells.
You grew up under the masked faces of their Exalted, under the stories of Earth past. Rusted metal and cracked plastic; His bone and His flesh. Conflicting worlds, conflicting times, and soon, it might all come to a head.
crown of ashes and flames @coeluvr (demo) The war had taken everything from you.King Luceris had taken everything from you.You were just nine years old when all of this happened. One moment you were in your room sleeping and the next you were walking through smoke and ash trying to find your parents.Love, he said, was the reason he started the war. Ironically, you lost everything you loved but you also lost yourself when he let you survive and dragged you away to his home.In a new Kingdom with no one on your side what choices will you make to survive? Who will you become?Inside of you, there’s something burning for revenge and there’s only one thing I want to tell you. Let it out.
Bleeding Heart @bleedingheart-if (Demo) Congratulations, you got engaged. Whether that is good or bad is ultimately up to you.Shortly after your engagement, your fiancé sets out on a journey to the distant lands of Transylvania, a real estate opportunity that proved too irresistible to decline.With your wedding temporarily on hold, you don't hesitate to respond when your childhood friend Lucy implores you to pay her a visit, seeking your company and counsel with an urgent matter concerning her very own future.The strangeness begins as you arrive in Whitby, a charming coastal town where the Westenra's estate resides.
checkmatein 3 moves @checkmatein3moves (DEMO) YOU are the heir; the child of one of the most powerful women on Oracle Island. When she’s accused of murdering her sister almost forty years prior after the revelation of a suspicious anonymous tip, her power falls to you — but so will her reputation.Many questions present themselves: is your mother a killer? Who wants to see her fall for it? Who will make the next move in the inevitable game? Can you play as well as the rest of them?The Elite Class are full of blood and schemes. Your generation carries the scars of those before them, and thus you all must join the game or face the consequences. But dark intentions are cloaked in silk and diamonds, and the heady taste of power corrupts like an infection.
The Abyssal Song @ri-writes-if (DEMO) In the underworld kingdom, where demons fight for survival against the abyssal monsters, you are just an Oracle. In the distant past the Oracles were at the top of the demonic hierarchy, but those golden days are long gone. You did what you were most afraid to do and now sit under arrest in the royal palace.When the Abyss sends you a vision of a terrible disaster that will happen in the future, you make an inevitable “deal” with the Sovereign to try to change the future and improve your abilities, not only to become stronger and learn more about the coming disaster, but also in an attempt to achieve mind stability.However, what has been happening to you since you received the vision makes you think that you are already slowly but surely losing your mind.Will you be able to maintain your sanity and help others protect the kingdom, or will you become just another name in the long list of Oracles gone mad?
the lonely shore @thelonelyshore-if (DEMO) Meet me at the cabin. Please.You weren’t sure what to make of it. A cryptic late night text sent from your younger sibling, begging you to meet up at your family’s old lake home. The plea for help was as concerning as it was confusing. As far as you knew, neither of you had set foot in the cabin in a decade. You had your hesitations, but Willow seemed desperate. You couldn’t help but oblige.Everything goes downhill fast when Willow's research into childhood ghost stories lands you in a town that doesn't exist. A town where people go missing at an alarming rate, where things that aren't quite human run businesses with hungry eyes, where time runs differently.A town you can't leave.Something about Easthaven is wrong. A supernatural fog permeates the town, so thick you could choke…but you’re one of the only people who seems to notice it. You’re quick to realize the fog keeps the residents ignorant, keeps them passive, keeps them trapped. When people who have long since gone missing start coming back home, you realize Easthaven’s mysteries go deeper than you could have ever imagined.
Kenneski @devilishmango (here)You were ripped away from your home, your life- all because you were accused of using magic. Sent away on carriages, bursting full of others like you, being brought to Kenneski Prison. It’s a prison made specifically to hold those that can wield magic, making it so you are powerless. It’s a death sentence for most that go there. But not for you.
stagnation @stagnation-if (DEMO) It's the year 2524, and you're a defeated God/Goddess/Deity in a place and time where your kind is rarely needed anymore. After being locked away and thought to be dead for nearly a millennia, you wake up.
The Fall of House Black @endemise (DEMO) The fall of House Black, your house, was an imminent thing. A name had never been so cursed that all it could do was bring about death.First, your younger sister in a swimming accident, then your older brother in a case of mistaken identity. As the rest of your family sought to grieve and bring justice to your brother, your older sister was killed in a hunting accident at the end of your father’s bow.The three of you, mother, father, and child, became inconsolable. Broken beyond repair. Your mother unable to bear the weight of life any longer took her own while your father disappeared, gone into the night. When you remain the sole survivor of House Black, you know you must leave, and on the night of your decision, your home goes up in flames with you inside.Then, you awake, dazed with no recollection of anything, and when you look down at your body, you scream. It is wrong. So wrong.
Drink Your Villain Juice @drinkyourvillainjuice (demo) Everyone knows that superpowers come about through three distinct methods.One can be born to their abilities, see them emerge in a moment of great strife, or acquire them through extensive cybernetic augmentation.Everyone is wrong.You’d know. If only that knowledge—and your snazzy slash horrible powers—didn’t come with a host of strings attached. Too bad that was an offer you couldn’t refuse.Did I mention one of the strings was supervillainy?Thrown headlong into a life of crime, balance conflicted loyalties, personal scars, and navigating a web of secrecy and deception, all while maintaining your cover.Above all, remember to drink your Juice. Your life depends on it.
The Gilded @the-gilded (Demo v1.2) Your younger brother, Leo, went missing three days ago. Your parents called the police, and they started investigating quickly. They were too late. Leo had already disappeared into the deepest part of the forest, where the mortals have vowed never to return. The police have offered to contact your family if Leo crosses the barrier back to the mortal side, but their investigation can’t go any further without inviting the wrath of the Fae.The winter solstice is approaching fast, which means that the High Fae are likely gathering mortal children for their great feast. The only way to get your brother back is to follow him into the forest and steal him back from the palace of the High Fae… If you can get there in one piece. The Fae forest is full of tricksters and killers, and you'll likely need some allies to help get you both back home.
VANGUARD @vanguard-if (PLAY) As a faering, you should want to keep to yourself. Your home is a safe haven where your dragon kin people reside; a place of true neutrality. There are no allies to the Midlands, nor are there enemies. Your people simply are, and this will not change.But you were never one much for rules, were you? With whispers of a certain prince in the Northlands allegedly receiving death threats from your docile leader, Cirrus, you could only slip away into the depths of the North to go see for yourself. It's so hilariously outrageous that your peace-loving ruler has such rumours teeming about them.You did not expect to find a bounty hunter bleeding out from her abdomen. And most of all, you did not expect her to know you by name, even through her raggedy breaths. And most of all, you did not expect her to have leads on the one you seek: the Northern Prince.
TWISTED GOLD @icaroif (DEMO) In the wake of an attack on your village that left your father dead and everybody you had ever known missing or the same, you are given one option; find your uncle in the Capital or else run for the hills and never look back. It was never really a choice anyway.
NINE BLOOD DANCES @nineblooddances-if [DEMO] You were a gift. Now to whom? No one knows.All that matters is that you are a gift and not like any of the others of your species. Uniqueness and importance oozes from every fiber of your being. You're important. Everyone says you're important. But why you're so important?Who knows?You must figure out what makes you so special and different. You must figure out what drives you through all circles. And you have to figure out why the nine commanders of Hell all have their eyes upon you and wish to have you by their side.All before the fall of the ninth moon.
Trouble Brewing @troublebrewing-if (Demo) it's all fun and games until someone loses a head!Quinn, your best friend, has brought you some awful news: your illustrious parents, having run out of potential mates for their brood, have set you up with the worst person you know -- Devon Bainbridge. Your intended is uncouth, self-indulgent, and ten years your senior.Of course, if no one can find you, the wedding's off, right?Make daring escape from your family's castle, get pressed into joining a rebellion, and find yourself fighting alongside a plucky bard, a brooding bandit, a naive idealist, and a fool-in-training. Escape marriage, join a rebellion, and find love… or sabotage it all.
ANECDOCHE @anecdoche-if (Demo) You wake up chained to a chair by one of the most notorious gangs in the country, only to be saved by one of the most famous hero organizations only a few moments later. Who wants you so badly that they would hire an entire gang to abduct you, and can you really trust the Supers that have been put in charge of your protection?
Blood of Morana @blood-of-morana (demo) You are one of the people, cursed with Morana’s magic, which gives you power over both winter and death. You can imagine that being one of the White Deaths hasn’t exactly made you the beacon of hope or the icon of popularity among your people. Worse yet, some of your magic has been sealed, making it impossible to witch away the inquisition.
The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - An affair of the heart @doriana-gray-games (demo)
Play as your version of Sherlock Holmes in this romance detective game!
Make an enemy of a friend and a lover out of an enemy. Solve the case of boredom. Have a pet bird—and best of all, play as a romantically and emotionally stunted genius detective!
nemisi @elegy-if (demo) The struggle between cosmic deities — now worshiped (or abhorred) as gods — tore its way into your planet not long before you were born. Unlucky for you, you were one of the first generations to be born exposed to Excinate, the name given to the radioactive-like sickness that comes from being exposed to magic not of your world. As you've built up a bit of an immunity to the more dire consequences, you were promptly ripped from your family after a doctor's visit when the Excinate got a bit too close to your childhood home. Since then, you’ve been shipped around and transported from facility to facility to be poked and prodded at.Until now. No, now you’re free.Aside from that lingering hunger for flesh you’ve had since becoming infected, of course. Just a little side effect from the radiation, along with a mouthful of jagged teeth and a jaw that can unhinge like a snake.
Burning Academia @burning-academia-if (Demo) You never thought you'd go to college, due to your circumstances. But you especially didn't dream you'd be forced to attend the prestigious Vales Grove University after being attacked by wraiths in their library. What started as a visit to a long time friend, ended with your hands burned, your innocence questioned, and the startling realization magic is real.To apologize for what's happened to you, or more accurately, to keep an eye on you, the Headmaster himself offers you enrollment with all fees waived. With no real choice in the matter, you become a student, and try to ignore the suspicion everyone throws your way. Besides, you have worse things to deal with.Like how you've started to attract ghosts and other dead things, or the fact that there is a very living thing inside your head, waiting for you to lower your guard and take control. And most pressing of all, managing your obligation to a family that hasn't been such a thing in years.Tread carefully, if the ghosts don't devour you, the university certainly might.
lightweaver: Chosen @lightweaver-chosen-if (DEMO) A world where elemental deities share a fraction of their powers to their chosen, bringing upon the age of weavers; humans with the ability to manipulate the elements of their patron.You have been chosen by a mysterious lightning deity—blessing you with the power to weave lightning. But with a troubled childhood haunting your every step, your new abilities present a double-edged sword.The choices you make, the support you receive, and the inner strength you harness define your journey—a journey fraught with anguish, but one that promises a life outside Mother’s grasp.Two divergent paths lay ahead.Will you let yourself heal and grow, or will you fall deeper into the void?
Talon's End @asheepinthenight (DEMO) You were never destined to marry for love.As the third child of the Earl of Eastthorn, your purpose is to marry to your family's advantage, but after one failed engagement already, your prospects are less than promising. So when the Crown calls upon you to infiltrate the lair of an Elven sorcerer in search of a powerful magical weapon, the offer is too good for your family to refuse.But leaving your respectable home to marry an immortal being of immense power quickly puts you in uncharted territory. Between your secretive, disagreeable spouse and their labyrinthine spire infested with strange creatures, your mission to uncover their secrets is risky from the start. But as you come to know both your partner and your new home at Talon's End, you discover terrors and wonders unlike anything you've known–and the true price of your mission.
Leas: City of the Sun @sailingshellsgames (demo) Enter the city of Leas, where humans dwell in safety behind city walls while strange and powerful Fey roam the wilds. Play as one of a rare few skilled enough to explore the outside world, an agent of Den Zarel.After making a dangerous discovery you are sent on a mission that unfolds into an adventure that will unearth more than expected, and more than you alone can handle.Fortunately, you’ll have help along the way: a lifelong friend hiding a dangerous secret, a mysterious and taciturn rogue, and an eccentric and charming mage unite under your banner to help save your city, and possibly, the world
#OMG#IT FINALLY WORKS!!!!!!!#btw this is like page 6 of a 45 page list#all of these are GOOOD and would recommend#my brian goes 'nom#NOM NOm
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I understand things have been dry in Outlander land but even desert dry has me smh. Ladies, if you have to try that hard to shit all over SH, I’m not saying it makes you a hater but it sure as shit doesn’t make you a liker.
Back after a bit- admit it, we all need to occasionally take a break- I feel I needed to pace myself during the drought. But after a bit of scrolling, I felt compelled to dive right in. Isn’t this fandom about fun, entertainment and guilty pleasure? That’s why I’m here. So why the endless posts from the SH haters? Do people dislike SH, enjoy the snark or just think the man is stupid?
So just for fun (or insomnia) I thought I would play a short game of SH: Stupid, Smart or just SMH?
1. SH and Cons/Private events for $
Why do people have such a problem with SH trying to make a living? Most if not all actors part of a series or movie franchise participate. In my opinion SH is doing it now, so he won’t need to in his 60’s to pay the rent. While most fans are priced out of the more exclusive events, all I can say is the paying fans are the only ones that never complain. Supply and demand. If any charitable component is part of the deal, great. So can we finally put a line under this?
Verdict: Smart as hell
2. SH always “Shilling” SS to his Fans and on SM
Uhm, he is the brand. It’s his company. Can it be a bit much? Yes. Promotion to the fan base and the use of sm is marketing 101. In order for people to try the product they need to know about the product. We can disagree as to his methods or success to date, but fans are not the only ones buying bottles. As for the constant and consistent presence of AN with SH during events? Suddenly they are a couple? WTF. AN is a business partner. He owns part of the business. They both work hard promoting SS, and so far it looks like they will continue to release more SS. Ladies, don’t put your lawn chairs away yet!😉
Verdict: Smart
3. SH and boundaries with his fans
Regardless of the letter you attach to SH, he is a recognized actor around the world. Definitely a people pleaser, in imho, he will happily take a selfie with anyone. Obviously, he never wants to disappoint any fan, but his lack of boundaries and security at events can be cringe worthy at times. If a female actor was touched, mauled, or asked to sign fans boobs or t-shirts it would be a #me too moment. Someone, anyone in security or a handler needs to be bad cop if he won’t. How far is too far?
Verdict: Stupid with a side of SMH
4. SH as a Philanthropist and Charitable Causes
This one really bugs me. MPC has raised over $6m for charity. SH’s name attached to any cause raises awareness and $. The BS from the haters who discount this based on the fact SH apparently never donates his own money is petty nonsense. Gentleman’s ride is one example. Agree it was his female fans that made it happen. And? This is my only fandom but SH is held to an impossible standard. Apparently he is a hypocrite in his support for clean oceans because someone on his team had a catered lunch using single use plastics. Great topic for discussion, but the man didn’t throw the containers in the ocean. Also let’s not judge a person’s commitment based on sm posts. SH can literally, yes ladies literally never win. Thankfully the causes he supports do. I dare you to disagree.
Verdict: Smart
5A. SH’s dating life
According to an extremely ardent part of this fandom, SH has dated😉 every fit blonde 👱♀️ within a 250 mile radius of everywhere. I wish that someone would keep track of all the mysterious initials and lack of any literal proof of these women. This is where I separate the snark from the hater’s. While I’m in owe of the investigative skills of some, and enjoy the gossip-even though mom thought gossip was a sin, sorry mom- not all women aka initials welcome the attention. Any woman save CB that SH is remotely warranted or not attached to, has an avalanche of hate comments and 💩emoji in their future, welcome or not. Personally, I believe SH, goes out of his way to protect the people he cares about, and perhaps even those he may not. I think we can agree he is not a monk. However an actor is entitled to privacy. Ginger Jesus included.
5B. SH ‘s Sexuality
From the beginning, 3 years for me, I’ve read posts about someone who knew a friend of a friend of a bartender’s friend who knew for a fact SH had a boyfriend. WTF. You know the drought is real when this bullshit gets recycled. We all know the question has been asked and answered by SH. More than once. Next.
Verdict: SH keeping his private life private: Smart as hell.
6. SH and the use of all things Outlander related
If you don’t get it, I don’t have the time and am too lazy to explain it to you.
Verdict: Smart. Smart as hell
7. SH and CB
The only real problem here is obvious. And I don’t know why the fans or even the haters- btw, I use the term haters like I do profanity- perhaps not the best word, but like GFY, FU, MF, C, etc. I’m lazy and it saves time and no confusion to whom I address. So where the actual f&ck is the audition tape we all want to see? You know the part of which I speak. If only the fandom investigators could put aside any petty differences and uncover the SH, CB chemistry kiss tape? I’m not saying it will be a unifying and CTJ moment, but it would give SH fans something to make the drought less….thirsty.
No verdict necessary. 👩❤️💋👨😚😉
And last but definitely not least…
8. SH and Thirst Traps
Ladies, because of Outlander and all things Outlander related, we’ve had the pleasure to observe SH from every view and lovely angle. Come on, if you 👀 closely it’s all there. Why the actual f&ck people in this fandom have a problem with his shirtless posts is beyond me. Not only is he promoting the results a good fitness regime can produce, he is literally, yes literally giving his fans something they want. And don’t even try me with- you’re treating him like an object. This is a 100% consensual relationship. And if the word “hater” seems harsh about the same gang that complains and shits all over his shirtless thirst traps, then please find me a better name.
Verdict: Smart as hell and thank you
So for those who may not get it, this post is silly and something for my handful of friends or any SH fan to have a laugh. If anyone has the patience to read the entire thing😉 So any comments are welcome, but to the people or person sending awful and cowardly anon messages: save your time. Or GFY. See what I did there?🤓
#outlander#outlander season 7#sam cait#sam heughan#sassanach#men in kilts#men in kilts 2#waypoints#clanlands
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Ipomoea, Reach For The Sky: The Dakkar and Margaret Essay
(spoilers for Searcher Part Two!)
Hi, hello, I predicted this and I’ve never felt more like a prophet in my life. Allow me many, many moments of screaming over this, please! But, to more serious analysis: Can't you see me? Can't you see me reaching out? Am I not one of your own? We're together, but alone. We would have staring contests like we were children, like we are in this moment, and I would never cease to be the first to blink.
Margaret…she’s talking to Dakkar, isn’t she?
Staring up at the moon, staring at her brother. It's the closest she can get to seeing him from here. He's her whisper in a daydream, her melody that lingers - he's a face that she recognizes.
These two have been reaching out to each other this whole time, and we never even knew it. Margaret and the Moon, Destiny Strange and Sublime - they're speaking to each other, waiting for each other.
It was never only about the moon she was looking up at. It was never only a mystery he was haunted by. It was about looking up at the same moon, about the mystery that only one of them knew the truth to.
But I’ve been on my own for so long! Please, I beg of you. How can I search when I don’t know what’s missing?
But she was. That’s what we all can see! Margaret was always searching.
She modelled her room in New York after her brother’s in the Blazing World! We hear her leitmotif in Dakkar's room, after all. She searched through thousands of scientific books, just like the ones her brother would have loved. She stared up at the moon, and was reminded of him. Even without knowing, she was looking. She was reaching out. Staring at her brother from a distance. She knew, she knew even talking to Samuel, that she had once not been alone in this life. I would even venture that when she took in Rose and Samuel, she looked at them and felt something familiar. She recognized a face, a relationship, siblings who loved each other so deeply, in people she'd just met.
Dakkar was her phantom limb.
But while Margaret was lost because she knew nothing of who she once was? Dakkar was lost because he was alone, and he knew exactly why. Here I am, as promised. I’m ready.
He’s been waiting. Dakkar was left. He was left alone. Left as the only one with the weight of the memories the two of them shared. He took on the history that Margaret had to forget, left alone with every memory that Margaret has been so hungry to have back. He knows the destiny the two of them shared, the plans they’ve made - and he wants her to know them once more, too! Burdened with knowledge. We know he trusted her to have his back, even when she had no idea who he was, because that’s his sister. He trusts her wholeheartedly, even in the midst of his desperation and rage. What else could he do but that?
These things remind, to make the most of time, now let me find the answer to the test of time. It’s all that I can see, in the faces in my dreams, in the moonlight and its beams.
Dakkar is speaking to her! He’s been trying to find an answer to the test of time, the time he spent alone. Time is so central to him, moving within the moving element! He's been moving in the world without Margaret by his side. He’s been trying to find an answer that will bring his sister back to him! He's so focused on finding that answer. It's all that he can see, the chance to see his sister in more than dream. To see her in person once more. He has his promises to keep, and he will see them through. To know his sister once again, and to have her know him in turn.
We see him calling out to Margaret - I can see you, I can see you reaching out, Margaret, you’re one of our own! He sings out her theme, one we’ve known since The Great Moon Hoax, something that’s hers. Hoping she’ll recognize him enough to reach back.
But, not yet.
The scene moves on, but...
Something tells me Margaret’s got my back on this!
Dakkar is tired, and he has been filled with so much rage. Because he is first in line, first to know exactly what he needs to do to have her back. He’s getting his hope back, no matter what it takes.
The test of time rarely comes at the best of times!
The first time we hear them harmonize, and it’s them agreeing that this needs to happen. Dakkar will do anything just to have her back. He’ll risk his own life to have her look at him with that love, that recognition again. That recognition he’s missed for years and years. Margaret has lived in only his memory for so long. Here she is in front of him again. How is he supposed to wait any longer? He needs to bring her home.
Margaret is so determined to find her answers, and to know the weight of the history she’s been missing. A part of her is searching, reaching out. Her voice is unshakably confident - and I have to wonder if a part of that is because she knows Dakkar is by her side again.
The two of them are in perfect harmony once more, as they do whatever it takes to get Margaret’s memory back. They’ll share their plans once more, come out of the shadows together. Even before Margaret fully remembers, that connection is there.
And then, Sia strikes.
Dakkar's plan works.
Margaret, after so long, remembers. Remembers everything. Remembers exactly who she is standing next to.
You know where to find me.
The theme of Margaret’s we’ve heard since The Great Moon Hoax. Margaret has been adrift in the world, a child throwing stones in the firmament. Dakkar has been waiting, as promised, with his destiny strange and sublime. Their destiny.
And how does it end?
Sister. You found me.
#dakkar#margaret cavendish#the searcher in the shadows#pulp 4 spoilers#pulp musicals#the searcher in the shadows spoilers#snarky speaks#and that's not even getting INTO dakkar's protection magic!!#“i see you're still protected against my spells!”#i *wonder* who could have been protecting her#even thousands of miles away he was keeping her safe!!#god!!#dakkar pulp musicals
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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 ೀ 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨
𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: you're scouted for love island and you and your manager think of it as a business opportunity but what happens when you actually want to find love?, you're in for the summer of your life.
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: 2
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of y/n!
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k!
𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: moments in this cringe me out but it isn't love island without cringe is it? Still introduction vibes so i'm sure it'll get smoother as we go on, basing the structure off love island uk s5 since it's my fav, but they are american!
“say hello to cade!”
you all cheer trying to give him a solid entrance, he walks around the corner shouting “what’s up girls?!”, you feel yourself cringe, you couldn’t tell if it was because of him or the environment you're in.
he walked down from the double doors and stood next to ariana. he was taller than her, had blonde hair, black trunks, and a few tattoos on his right arm, i mean you thought he was attractive sure, but you quickly realize it’s going to take a lot for you to step forward.
you're so used to getting to know someone before putting your cards on the table so a “what’s up.” isn’t going to do him justice.
he stood confidently with his hands on his hips, observing you all one by one.
“how are you feeling today?” ariana asks, looking up at him.
“i'm good. this is cool! you guys are all so beautiful. this is like a dream.” he quickly replies, you turn to look at the other end of the hearts, noticing abby’s excitement you can tell she quite likes him.
“so cade, "love island" is all about finding your perfect match. it all starts right here with a decision about who you want to couple-up with, but first it’s up to the girls to decide if they're interested in you.”
ariana looks at the girls then back up to him, “nerve wracking huh?”
“a little bit.” he replies nervously.
“girls, if you like what you see, please step forward.” there is a long pause, a moment of silence before abby steps off her heart and moves forward.
ariana cheers, “abby, why did you step forward?”
abby squeals, “oh my god!!, for one i really liked how he came in with lots of energy, he seems like a talker which i looove, and he’s like….really hot.”
“okay, cade you can choose to couple up with abby orr, you can couple up with any of the four girls that didn’t step forward, what will it be?”
he takes a little time to think, redoing what he did when he first walked in, analyzing all of the girls.
“abby, i want to couple up with abby.” he says proudly, abby almost jumps up and down with excitement.
she cheers in response, “yay!!”
you all clap as cade walks over to abby’s heart, they share a hug and he stands next to her.
“so we have our first love island couple of the year…cade and abby.”
“abby, how are you feeling?, ariana adds.
“eee!, so happy, he's definitely my type so i’m excited!” she says looking back and forth between the two, he smiles from her comments, his cheeks turning a red hue, he seems to feel comfortable enough to slither his hand onto her waist.
ariana smiles, “good, cade?”
“i’m feeling good.” he squeezes her side, “she's beautiful and seems really cool so yeah, excited.”
“clair, why didn’t you step forward?” ariana questions, projecting her voice, making eye contact, you appreciated her hosting “abilities”.
“i need someone chill, and he also gives me the vibe he would break my heart.” she giggles delivering the last bit of her sentence. she looks over to you, maybe wanting to feel validated for feeling that way off first glance. you nod at her, giving her a smile.
“damn..” he says, putting his hand on his heart dramatically, then putting it back on abby’s waist.
“well kaia, leah, you both like heartbreakers, what happened?”
they both look at eachother, “he's cute but i just like someone more mysterious, quieter…you know?” leah softly responds.
“kaia?”
“i think i have to agree with leah, he has a lot of energy, which is great just not for me.” kaia hesitates, not trying to sound like an ass.
“it seems like you guys have really similar types..” ariana says ominously. they both laugh and look at each other.
“alright, are we ready for the next boy?”
you all cheer, “alright everyone, please meet romeo.”
he walked out the big brown doors, the first thing you noticed was his green shorts on his tanned skin, he was a brunette and his hair was shaggy. you definitely felt a tiny butterfly.
“this place is sick,” he says softly.
he walks over to ariana, a smirk present on his face.
you fiddled with your bikini, he caught stolen glances from you every once in a while.
“romeo, welcome to love island.”
“look at these gorgeous women in front of you.” she kindly adds.
“they are all beautiful.” he says trying his best to project his voice.
“as you can see, we already have one couple, cade and abby, then these four single ladies.”
“leah, kaia, clair and y/n.” she continued.
“you can couple up with any of these ladies, including abby who is already in a couple.”
you notice abby shaking her head then looking up towards cade.
“but before we give you that choice, let’s see if any of the girls are interested enough to step forward.” he silently nods.
“okay ladies, if any of you are interested in romeo, please step forward.”
there is another pause, you all anticipating eachothers moves, you were definitely interested but this would be a bold move from you.
your taking too long is all you can think in your head when you notice leah stepping forward, seconds later kaia. you step forward, your legs taking over and moving without your brain's permission.
he looks shocked, “wow, three gorgeous women have stepped forward for you, what are you thinking?”
“i’m speechless, really, i don’t, i don’t know.” he stutters
“that is pretty shocking, let's go in order here, leah, why did you step forward?”
“i think he’s super cute and i've felt him eyeing me up so i would assume it's mutual.” she says it in a “rubbing it in your face” tone. causing your eyes to discreetly roll.
“kaia”?”
“me and leah really do have the same type.” she giggles “ he seems quite quiet but he also has that “bad boy” aesthetic going on.”
“are you a bad boy romeo?”
“i don’t think so..” he says bashfully.
“lastly, y/n? i noticed your hesitation, what's that about?”
you scoff, “well i thought he was attractive, i was just a bit nervous.”
"make sense,
alright, romeo, who would you like to couple up with?”
“i think y/n intrigues me quite a bit.” he says quickly, your heart feels like it bumped out of your chest. you look down to get a look at leah, she looks pissed.
“okay, go get her!” he walks closer to you, you open your arms for a embrace, you almost stick together from the sweat beads on both of your chests,
he puts his arm around you making your stomach flip.
“you guys look great together.”
“thank you!” you both say at the same time making you and him giggle.
“you alright leah?”
“just fine ariana, thank you.”
ariana quickly moves on, “kaia?”.
“all good here.” she smiles
“great.”
⋆˚。⋆୨୧˚
the coupling went on for a while, a guy named robert came out next, immediately snatching clair up, she seemed really happy about the coupling.
cyrus ran out next, he had a lot of energy but he seemed to wear it better than cade having kaia and leah stepping forward, he ended up picking leah, which seemed to be a bit of a let down for kaia but she quickly let it go remembering there is still one boy left.
aidan being the last guy to come out, he seemed more mature than the other guys, whether it was his mannerisms or the way he spoke, he ended up stealing leah, having cyrus couple up with kaia.
“congratulations, we now have our five couples,”
you all clap and cheer, “these couples you just made will decide how long you stay in the villa.” you look at romeo, he smiles at you.
“in your couples, you’ll spend time getting to know each other, taking on challenges together, living together and even sharing a bed together.”
“in eight weeks time, the public will be voting for their favorite couple. that couple stands to win a massive $50,000 cash prize and be crowned the winners of ‘love island’ 2024.
but don’t forget this is love island, and the path to true love is never that simple. there may be a few surprises around every corner, and the first surprise might be sooner than you think.”
you all laugh nervously, sharing smiles with the person next to you.
“i will see you very soon.” ariana says ominously,
⋆˚。⋆୨୧˚
the rest of the islanders greet each other, but you and romeo seem to be in your own bubble.
“how are you?”
you wipe your arm, “sweaty.”
he scoffs, “me too.”
“i didn’t expect you to pick me.” you scoff.
“why not.”
“i don’t know.” you say awkwardly.
“so, i “intrigue” you?” you mock his tone from earlier, he puts his hand behind his head, “pretty much.”
robert comes up to hug you, followed by the rest of the guys you never properly interacted with, you were able to greet them with a few words before romeo interrupted, hoping to have a more private conversation with you.
⋆˚。⋆୨୧˚
you both laid on a day bed overlooking the pool, some of your fellow islanders were already dipping their feet into the pool while having conversation.
ironically “it’s so pretty.” were the first words to leave his mouth, you both admire the villa while enjoying a moment of comfortable silence.
“you know what i hate?” he says rolling his head back to get a better look at you, you can’t help but smile.
a quiet “what?” is the only thing that can leave your lips when he is staring into your eyes, he adjusts himself making the bed squeak, “small talk.”.
“me too!!” you exclaim.
he chuckles, “okay lets play a game then, rapid fire.”
“okay…, i'm assuming you’re gonna quickly ask me questions..?”
“pretty much, how old are you?”
“i’m 21.” you answer quickly, “you?”
“23, job go.”
“i own my own business." you hesitate, "sell my own designs, it's whatever.”
“are you kidding? that’s sick.”
“thank you.” you shyly reply, “what about you.?”, you change your position on the bed from laying down to sitting upright.
“i work with a bunch of animals, my dad has owned a pet store since i was a kid so i kinda just grew up around them.”
hearing about his job excites you, you like someone that can be passionate about their career.
“that’s really cu–” you attempt to reply but you’re interrupted by the sound of heels coming up from behind you, it was leah.
“do you mind if i pull romeo?”
“it’s not up to me.” you quickly respond.
he starts sitting up, leaning in to give you a hug, you hesitantly reciprocate.
“i’ll see you later, okay?” he says whispering into your ear, he pulls back from the hug fully standing up leaving you on the day bed.
⋆˚。⋆୨୧˚
shortly after your interrupted conversation, abby and clair asked you to join them exploring the villa. you obviously say yes and get off the day bed, quickly following them inside.
to the left of the ‘backyard’ doors is a living space, followed by a pull down bed with a neon “dog house” sign. you all laugh when you first notice it, abby throws around jokes, “where cade will be sleeping if he pisses me off.” making you and clair giggle.
you turned around going to the door on the other side of the room, inside were seven beds lined up against the wall, “holy shit!” abby says from behind you, she walks ahead of you touching the first bed in the room, then looking at its bench to notice “abby.” and “cade” signs at the end of it, she jumps on it.
“clair, you'll probably be down here next to me.” you say excitedly, she chuckles. you and clair walk down to the fourth and fifth bed noticing your names, you both sit on your assigned beds.
“can you believe life right now?” abby says, even from “far away” her voice is still easily heard.
“not at all.” clair comments, looking at you, “do you think the other girls are done with their chats?” abby comments. “why?” you respond, “we need to have a girl chat.” you look at clair and she looks at you with an unreadable expression on her face.
“about our couples?, duh.” abby continues.
⋆˚。⋆୨୧˚
you and the rest of the girls decided to head upstairs to find a place to have ‘girl chat’. you walked behind clair, right up the stairs are the showers, bathrooms but most importantly the makeup room, you all piled in taking a seat at a vanity.
“this place is so fucking beautiful.” abby states, starting the conversation as usual.
“so how was everyone's chats? me and cade got surprisingly deep?” she adds, almost saying her last few words like a question.
“i mean that's good, does he match your energy like you wanted?” kaia chimes in curiously.
“oh 1000%, i already feel lucky to have already met someone that ticks so many of my damn boxes.”
“don’t forget it’s day one, you have to get to know everyone else.” clair states, taking leah and abby by surprise.
“damn, didn’t know you were like that.” leah says, flicking her hair behind her head.
“i mean she's right.” you add.
“clair, how is your sitch.” kaia questions her.
“it’s good, we only had a quick chat but he seems chill, i'm just not sure yet.” “why?” abby expresses genuine confusion, “you guys seem like a good match.”
“yes on paper.” she rebuttals, “but i don’t know him yet, i’m typically a grower so it'll take me some time.”
you all nod at her comment.
“so.., kaia, leah, hows your ‘sticky’ situation.” abby asks nonchalantly.
“well, my convo with cyrus went well,
obviously we're attracted to the same guy so i'm not going to hold it against her when she inevitably talks to him.” kaia quickly but carefully responds.
“wait..you haven't talked to cyrus yet leah?” abby asks, trying to get more information.
“he was talking to kaia so i just let it be, was able to pull romeo earlier though.”
abby and clair quickly look at you with those ‘sad’, ‘puppy’ eyes, you gave them a sarcastically confused look in return.
“how did it go?” kaia asks her genuinely.
“it was good, we have some things in common, i’ll definitely talk to him again, maybe later tonight?”
“don’t forget to talk to cyrus later, i want to see how he’ll move.” kaia persists.
“how was your chat y/n?” abby quickly takes back the conversation. hearing your name quickly snaps you out of your zone out.
“it was good, we didn’t get to talk much before he was pulled.” you say awkwardly, the whole room going silent for a bit.
“you know who needs to talk tonight?” abby quickly says, breaking the silence.
“you two.” she says pointing at leah and you.
you both look at each other, “the tension is obvious and i'm not having my new girl friends hate each other,
especially over a man.” abby continues.
“i don’t hate her.” you say quickly after hearing abby, you fidgeted with your bikini, suddenly it felt hotter than it already did.
“annnyyyway..” abby drags out the word, trying to get rid of the awkwardness, “leah, how's aidan?”
her face scrunches up and you can already tell what she’s gonna say, “he isn’t for me, too serious, and lowkey boring..”
“yikes.” abby responds.
“but he expressed interest in clair, so maybe..?” clair’s head immediately snaps up,
“seriously?”
“oooooo.” you say teasingly, abby joins in with you.
“stop it.”, you notice her flusteredness.
⋆˚。⋆୨୧˚
you were called to the beach hut for your first confessional, you were nervous to be in front of a camera again,
yes there were cameras all around you but at least they were hidden.
you walked in and immediately plopped down in the chair, the lighting looked a bit harsh, you wondered if it was flattering or not,
all you had to do was answer a few questions from the producers, easy.
“how are you feeling in your couple?” a deep voice from behind the camera questions.
“uhm.” you took time to think about what you wanted to say,
“good, he makes me feel nervous, which i think is a good sign?”
“how do you feel about sharing a bed in your couple?”
“i haven’t shared a bed with a man in a while so i'm a little nervous, but it’ll be fine.” you quickly respond, trying not to sound like a moron on national television.
you adjust your bikini as the next question is dished out to you.
“how do you feel about leah?”
you awkwardly smile, “she seems nice, we obviously got off on the wrong foot earlier so that's unfortunate. but i'll talk to her, one on one, later, hopefully clear the air.”
⋆˚。⋆୨୧˚
after answering a few beach hut questions it was time to unpack your suitcase, you walk up the stairs and down the hall to find you and all the girls' suitcases lined up against some closets.
you find the one with the big “y/n” on it, grabbing it and crouching on the floor to open it up. that’s when you remember why you’re here, your designs, not for romeo or the friends you were making,
but to show off your designs.
you think about what rhia would be saying right now, “bitch, get it together, this is work.”, it makes you giggle,
now you’re sitting on the floor reminiscing, missing rhia and your family. that's when the rest of the girls pile in, interrupting your thoughts, you now think about how many times you’ve been interrupted today.
“unpacking time whoo!” abby exclaims, hyping the rest of the girls up.
clair comes next to you, seeming to notice your somber expression, “you okay?”
“i’m great, thank you.” you smile at her and she reciprocates it. now it’s chaos, suitcases being thrown open, clothes being snagged onto hangars.
“what are you guys sleeping in tonight?” kaia asks.
the girls talk over each other at once, “a t-shirt.” is what you reply with, “that's it?”
“no, oh my god.” you quickly say with a giggle.
“i was about to say.” she chuckles over her words.
⋆˚。⋆୨୧˚
evening meant it was time to get ready again, which meant getting out of those bikinis and into something else, you didn’t realize how much your feet hurt until you peeled your wedges off.
you were sweaty and sticky all day so you decided you needed to shower before changing into something clean.
you had a quick, soapy, rinse, since you felt awkward, the shower door was clear except for the part that just barely covered your bits.
you quickly put your towel on, deciding to lotion up in the makeup room where the rest of the girls were. minus the tension from this morning you felt really comfortable with them all.
you lotioned up and put on a pair of undies and a bra, the dressing room and the makeup room were connected causing girls to walk back and forth while having conversation, you heard laughter, the sounds of zippers, heels, for some reason it made you really happy, you chose to sit next to clair at the vanities,
just like earlier. she was appreciative.
you did your hair and makeup at the vanity, the lighting was really nice making you feel extra confident, you decided to wear one of your favorite designs, the girls in the room hyping you up bringing a smile to your face, you adjusted yourself in the outfit making sure everything sat perfectly, grabbing some heels that complimented the rest of your outfit and slipping them on.
you walked in front of a wall length mirror, posing a little,
you looked gorgeous.
⋆˚。⋆୨୧˚
you all walked outside, this was the first time you saw it at night and it was beautiful, a little chilly but the fairy lights above the villa made up for it, they were even in the trees!
the kitchen was tucked in a corner between when you first walk out and the day beds, everybody slowly picked off, abby and cade going for a convo first, followed by clair pulling aidan for a chat, you gave her a thumbs up as she walked off with him, six of you still stood in the kitchen, you decided it was time to take leah off for a conversation.
you grabbed a glass off the counter that was filled with champagne and walked over to her, “wanna have our chat?”
“sure.” she replied taking a sip out of her glass, you both walk over to the fire pit a bit away from the kitchen.
“how are you?” you start.
“good.” she replies back
“you look nice.” you compliment her, she was wearing a silver glittery dress with her hair in a bun,
she really did look nice.
“thanks, you too.” you nod your head appreciatively, not sure if you should bring up the tension from this morning or ask her to forget about it, you both sit in silence not sure what the other will say.
“sorry..” she says quietly
you snap your head to her, “what was that?” you ask genuinely.
“i’m sorry.” she states it this time.
“why?” you quickly ask.
“i was a sour puss about romeo picking you over me, i shouldn’t have.”
you look at her, then at romeo who was chatting in the kitchen.
“sour puss?” you giggle, you’ve heard the phrase but never heard it come out of someone's mouth before.
“yeah.” she chuckles.
“it’s fine, really, i don’t want us to have any tension or anything, the energy has been so good between us girls.”
“i agree.” she stands up, you follow suit bringing her into a hug. you hear cheering from somewhere, pulling out of the hug, you look around noticing abby and cade, sitting on bean bags that were arranged a little away from the pool.
it makes you and leah laugh.
⋆˚。⋆୨୧˚
a little after your conversation with leah,
you, abby and kaia were chatting at a swing placed on the right hand side of the villa. you and the girls didn’t even notice romeo approaching you, “can i steal you?”
you look over at him, he was wearing a black dress shirt, and gray pants, he looked nice.
“mhm.” you replied, getting ready to stand up but the girls did it before you. “we’ll go, you stay.” abby says, walking away with kaia as they continue the conversation you were just having.
“you good?” he questions, sitting on the ‘couch’ swing, it moves when he adjusts himself to face you.
“i’m great, feeling less shy, i guess?”
“i noticed you’re talking a lot more, i'm glad you’re comfortable.”
“me too, i was worried it would take a lot longer.” you go back to forth with him as you notice him observing you.
“you look really nice.”
“thank you..” you say shyly.
“so, how was your chat with leah?” you question, you remember leah telling you “it was good.” so you wondered how he would reply.
“it was nice, she's chill, we have a few things in common.”
“that’s cool.” you comment, not really knowing what to say next.
“how do you feel about sleeping later tonight?” he changes the subject.
“i’m fine with it, i’m actually already really tired.”
“it has been a long day to be fair.”
⋆˚。⋆୨୧˚
you all gathered at the fire pit to play a game of truth or dare, the rules were simple, abby was at the head of the fire pit so she would start first, asking anyone ‘truth or dare’, when they finish their dare or their truth next they can pick any islander to continue the game.
you all sat comfortably around the fire, you sat opposite of abby, next to romeo and of course, clair.
“cade, truth or dare.” abby starts.
he laughs, “of course.” he says knowing she was gonna pick him.
“dare.” he says confidently.
“i dare you to give a lap dance to an islander of your choice.” she winks at him.
you all laugh and cheer after hearing the dare, he gets up putting his glass on the floor, he stands over abby, moving his hips back and forth, putting his leg behind her and gyrating in her face, you couldn’t stop laughing and you could tell everyone around you felt the same.
he stopped, sitting back down next to her, smirk on his face, grabbing his cup off the ground and taking a sip.
abby was shocked, you could tell because her mouth was basically on the floor, “that was too quick.” she complains.
once cade stops laughing, he looks around, not knowing who to choose, “my guy robert, truth or dare?”
robert scoffs, “truth.”.
“boooringgg.” cade shouts, “have you ever had a threesum?”
robert chokes a little on his wine, “yes..” he says shamefully, for some reason that shocks everyone.
“damn, my man!” cade exclaims, getting up to dap him up, abby playfully hits him on the arm, making him laugh and sit back down.
the laughter is interrupted by a ring, all of your faces slowly drop, nerves quickly setting in.
“was that you?” robert questions clair.
“i think it was.” she responds.
“i got a text!” clair shouts, “islanders, it’s time for the real games to begin, please welcome your new arrival.” she reads it out ominously, making all you look around at each other frantically.
your heart goes to your stomach, your mind racing with questions. you adjust your outfit and take another sip out of your glass.
clair continues, “#one out of three.”
“what does that even mean? abby asks, clearly confused.
seconds of silence later a brunette comes from behind the corner, “hi!” he says cheerily
clair looks at you knowingly, you quietly snicker.
everyone slowly stands up to greet him, you take your time adjusting yourself and taking a few more sips before having the courage to walk closer, he daps up the guys and hugs the ladies that have already come up to him, you notice his eyes, they look brown in the night light, his hair, his jawline, you feel flustered.
in your zoning out he already made his way through everyone, you were the only one left to greet, you smiled at him and he smiled back. your mic raised against your chest, rising with each deep and heavy breath.
he put his arms out, you did the same, sliding your manicured hands around his torso, making for a cuddly hug,
weirdly it felt just right.
who is this new islander?, find out next time on love island.
hope you enjoyed!
#zabe's finest pieces 👚#the sturniolo triplets#sturniolo triplets#christopher sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris x reader#matt x reader#zabebabe
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