⚠️ TW: kinda gore, blood, death, bomb, gun, mention of running away⚠️

Ash's POV

"Waitwait, hang on a second-- she basically asked to be your girlfriend at, like, one or two in the morning, and you DON'T REMEMBER your response?" Emily said.

"Yeah, that's basically what I said," I replied.

"So you either broke her heart or started dating her, and you have no clue which one?" Emily asked.

"We've established this," I replied. "And now I need to ask her if she can babysit a child for Satan knows how long."

"I mean if socializing isn't your thing we can always let the kid--"

"Are you fucking insane?!?" I shouted. "We're not killing a kid you lightbulb slurper!"

"Let me finish!" Emily said. "Let the kid on their own. You're gonna get the throne. You're gonna fix Kawali, fix everything, right? By the time Jocelyn's safe, The Anax and his wife will be dead."

"Good point, but we still need backup in case The Anax doesn't die or we can't drop the bomb. Plus, they're still a kid." I replied. "Also I just realized-- why are we killing his wife? Did she do something?"

"She insisted on making the blood test that doesn't even work. And wanted some executioners to patrol in tanks. Of course, that motion didn't go through, but there's no saying it couldn't in the future." Emily explained.

"Wonderful," I scoffed. "Dick... tator husband, power crazed wife, and an abused kid. Does construction have the bomb designs yet?"

"Yeah, the options are stomp, lever, and twist designs." Emily replied. "They heavily suggested stomp because it would be easier to avoid accidentally setting off the bomb, but it's ultimately your choice."

"I was gonna say stomp just because it's badass but okay. Stomp bomb." I said. "And I wanna drop the bomb by tomorrow night."

"Meaning you're gonna have to talk to Edge," Emily said.

"Don't fucking patronize me you dusty fish I know I have to talk to Edge," I grumbled.

"Speaking of, didn't she try to form an alliance with you to do this exact thi-"

"dON'T FUCKING REMIND ME OF STUPID SHIT I DID OR SAID WE DON'T NEED TO REVIEW." I shouted.

"Alright," Emily laughed. "I'll give them tthe message."

(le time skip to Ash at Edge's place)

I stood in front of the ladder.

If I climb up, there's no going back.

Unless I wanna jump out a window or something...

NO!

Okay... just... pray she's suffering from severe amnesia?

ALSO NO!

Fine. I started to climb the ladder.

As I put my hand on the top rung, a shoe stomped on my fingers.

I looked up... it was the guy talking to Edge last night.

"State your name and buisness here." He demanded.

"Ack! Bitch, you know who I am-"

I was cut off by another stomp to the hand.

"Name. And. Buiness."

"Ash Hsart, I'm here to talk to Edge!" I whimpered in pain.

He lifted his foot, allowing me to climb up.

"Is this always how you greet people, or am I just special?" I asked sarcastically.

"I just don't trust you," He replied.

"Ohh, I get it. To you, I'm being framed as the bitch who wants to whisk Edge away to some magical world of romance and garlic bread, and you're taking on the overprotective older brother role despite the fact that you're not even related to her." I said.

"You brutally killed someone in front of her." He deadpanned. "It's not that I don't trust you because you like her, I don't trust you because you're a murderer."

"I wouldn't trust me either," I replied, walking inside.

Oh... uh... lots of people here...

"Hey do you know where Edge is?" I asked some guy.

"Kitchen," He replied, pointing in some vague direction.

I walked towards the room that smelled like food... chicken? Baked... chicken tenders... Tyson brand...

"Ash?" A voice asked.

I snapped my head up. Edge.

Ah shit how do I do this--

"Do you know what happened last night?" I blurted.

As soon as she said that, she looked away from me.

Ah yes, two awkward gays in a kitchen panicking.

"We, um... Actually, I was hoping you could tell me..." She mumbled.

"You don't remember either?" I asked. Edge nodded.

"I remember me saying something... personal... and then saying something stupid. I didn't remember your reply-"

"It wasn't stupid!" I defended.

Edge scoffed. "So you actually wanna be my girlfriend?"

"Hell yeah I wanna be your girlfriend!" I replied.

Wait I just said that...

Out loud...

With words...

"Um... do you... wanna be my girlfriend?" I asked, a little more soft-spoken this time. "I-It's okay if you say no--"

"I quite literally initiated the question, Ash." Edge cut me off. "Of course I wanna be your girlfriend."

I blinked. "Really?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, I'm toying with your feelings because it gives me immense pleasure to see you in pain."

"Oh that makes sense sorry to-"

"I'm being sarcastic!" She laughed.

Oh that's a relief.

"So... does this make us girlfriend and girlfriend now?" I asked awkwardly.

"Isn't there a better way to ask that?" Edge patronized.

"You're cute has hell. I would most appreciate if you would engage in an advanced relationship known as dating. I do not wish to proceed with this solely because of societal expectations, but I adore every goddamn aspect of your personality." I replied.

"Lil' much but alright," Edge smiled.

"So that means--"

"Yes, we're two bros chillin' in a hot tub slightly less than five feet apart because we're gay for each other," Edge replied. "and we're dating."

I pumpes my fist in victory.

"You dork," Edge teased.

"You dated a dork," I retorted.

I know it seems so stupid to date someone when I'm not sure if I can go outside and come back alive, but I just... need someone. She needs someone. Someone other than friends, someone you can be with and flirt with and tease and just do normal things with. Pretend the world isn't as broken as it is. I'm nineteen and plotting to kill a world leader, leading a cult, and fearing for my life every day. In the 2020's, some adults couldn't even handle that.

I've cried over the fact that we're too young to be like this many days in the past.

Today's not one of those days.

"So, as your girlfriend, I was wondering if you could do me a little favor?" I asked.

"What'd you do?" She fake rolled her eyes.

"So, uh... the Trash Cult has a plan to kill The Anax... and it turns out he has a kid, so we kinda need someone to take care of Jocelyn after their parents are dead," I explained.

"And you thought I could do that?" Edge asked.

"I know it sounds absurd but they're thirteen and I'm sure they're super mature--"

"What about them? What if Jocelyn loves their parents?" Edge asked.

"You mean The Anax and his wife?"

"Doesn't she have some fancy title too?" Edge asked.

"Who knows, they're assholes either way," I muttered.

Awkward silence. Wonderful.

"I can take care of the kid," Edge said.

(time squip to bomb drop night)

"Alright, who wants to drop a bomb on a tyrant with me?" I asked with newfound enthusiasm.

"Me," Shelby volunteered.

And then silence again. Fucking hell.

"C'mon pussies. You don't wanna be seen as heroes?" I scoffed.

"I'll go," Emily sighed.

"GC and I," Briar volunteered.

GC looked at her. "Bruh you can't just--"

"C'mon it's gonna be fun," Briar smiled. "Kill a leader, blow up a mansion, sounds great."

"M'kay, good. Is the bomb ready yet?" I asked, checking my watch. Midnight.

A guy from construction walked up to me with the bomb.

"There's two capsules, set it down upright and step on it with full body weight to set it off. You have fifteen seconds to run if you don't want it to kill you," He explained.

"Great," I replied as he handed it to me. "To The Anax's Residence we go."

(time skip to The Anax's place)

Shelby, Emily, GC, and Briar hid in the bushes with me.

"What's the plan?" Shelby asked.

"Emily and I are gonna break Jocelyn out. We get them far away from this hellhole and drop the bomb in The Anax's room. Run away after the bomb drop. Be quiet the whole time. Don't die." I explained. "Who wants to be the bomb dropper?"

Shelby looked up at me. "I'll do it."

I handed the bomb to her. "The Anax's window is two yards from this bush. Don't bomb it until I say so."

Shelby nodded. I glanced to Emily, who nodded with me as we left the bushes.

"Where's Jocelyn's room?" Emily asked.

"The one with the LED lights still on I assume," I replied.

Her attention turned to the purple-lit room. "I'm gonna break the window."

"Or just open it," I scoffed. "They're thirteen, the windows aren't locked."

Emily pulled up on the window, confirming my theory.

"Well I'll be damned," She replied.

The two of us climbed inside to find the child we presumed to be Jocelyn, wearing a Sanders Sides hoodie and eating a piece of lasagna.

Their eyes widened as soon as we stepped in. "W-Who are you?"

"We're gonna get you out of here, Jocelyn." I replied. "I know things seems scary right now, but we'll explain later. You gotta come with us."

"Great, take me outta this place." They said, grabbing a bag

Emily and I exchanged confused glances.

"You're not suspicious of us?" Emily asked. "No pushback or absurd questioning?"

"Wherever you're taking me, it's probably better than this place." Jocelyn replied. "We gonna go or what?"

"Yeah, out the window." I whispered, helping them out the window. "Run fast, run far. Stay out of view of The An- ... your dad."

Jocelyn smiled. "Got it--"

"Hands in the air!" A voice shouted, busting through the door. Three guards and The Anax himself, all armed.

"Run!" I shouted at Jocelyn, who was already out the window but standing outside.

"NO!" The Anax shouted desperately. "Jocie, please!"

"S-- Dad..." They said. "I'm not staying here. Not with you."

"Please for the love of God," The Anax pleaded, tearing up. "Not Jocelyn. Take anything else. You wanna enslave a guard? Money? Anything but my little girl--"

"I'm not your little girl!" Jocelyn shouted, running away fast. I couldn't tell if the emphasis was on the 'your' or 'girl.'

He looked bittersweetly sad at his child, watching them run so quickly away from the man who raised them. But the moment his eyes locked on Emily and I, his sadness quickly turned to rage.

The Anax pulled a gun out. "You... you're gonna teach--"

"We're gonna teach your child what a normal life is supposed to be like." Emily snapped. "A life without a dictator as a father. A life where you don't go to bed with bruises. A life where they're not cut off from every other non-family human Jocelyn has spoken to. A life where it's okay to not be straight or cisgendered."

His brows furrowed. "Don't go there."

"I'm fucking going there!" Emily shouted. "Everyone knows how you isolated Jocelyn from their friends even before you became a maniac! And how you mistreat and abuse--"

"I do not abuse my children!" The Anax shouted. I could see the veins in his neck enlarged in anger.

Wait... children?

More than one...

"Believe it or not, punching and slapping is abuse!" Emily screamed.

Emily and The Anax's intense bickering became white noise as I tried to figure out how to proceed with our plan. I looked around the room for a blunt object--

Baseball bat. Aluminum. Within reaching distance.

As The Anax and the guards were focused on Emily, I grabbed the bat. Running up to the guards, I slammed them across their heads in one shot. The Anax held a gun to my head. I dropped the bat, which rolled across the floor to Emily's feet. He wasn't looking at her anymore.

She grabbed it and clonked it over his head, knocking him unconscious on the floor with the guards.

"Let's get Shelby," I huffed.

We climbed out the window and into he bushes.

"He's unconscious on the floor in the purple room," I whispered to Shelby. "Briar, GC, get the kid and make sure they're okay. Check for wounds and bruises."

They nodded, going to the designated places. Emily and I ran with GC and Briar to find Jocelyn and get away from the explosion. Fuck, I hope Shelby can run.

The Anax's POV

I'm awake.

I faked falling unconscious. They think they're getting away with this.

A girl with dark brown hair came in through the window, placing what looked like a bomb on the floor.

I stood up as she stomped on it.

"Y-You..." She stammered.

"Me," I replied. "I can give you power over an entire nation."

"W-What?" She asked in fear.

I wasn't gonna give it to her. I just had to tempt her.

"You could have all the control you want," I smirked, locking the window without her noticing.

"I-I don't want to be like you!" She shouted in panic.

"Who said you had to be?" I replied. "You could make any laws. Prohibit assault rifles. Make ace people legally part of the alphabet soup people--"

"Shut up!" She shouted. "Y-You can't--"

"Oh, but I can." I replied. "Just stay here. I'll get the paperwork. You know you want to."

I left the room, closing and locking the door.

Boom.

Ash's POV

"That's weird. Shelby should be back by now." Emily said.

I scoffed. "Yeah, no shit Sher--"

Boom.

I didn't see her running towards us.

She's coming, right?

"Stay here," I said.

GC and Briar exchanged concerned glances once again.

"What the hell are you doing?" Emily asked.

"Shelby's sure as hell dead if we can't see her by now. I'm making sure that this was an eye for an eye," I replied, running towards the mansion.

The world blurred in my peripheral vision. Shelby can't be dead. She helped us with this plan. No. Not happening. I know Shelby. She's smart. She's a fighter. She's too stubborn to die.

The purple room had exploded.

Blood...

Dark brown hair...

Raccoon shirt torn to shreds and blown over the room.

That sure as hell wasn't The Anax's usual attire.

"Lost another queer?" A voice asked. I looked up from the destruction to see a gray-haired narcissist.

"You... You KILLED HER!" I screamed. "You piece-of-shit, good-for-nothing, homophobic-ass piece of heterosexual trash!"

"Your pain is my pleasure," He chuckled, staring at the tears streaming down my face.

"Fuck you!" I shouted. I wanted to stab him right then and there. Watch him bleed. See him pay for the pain he's caused every one of us.

But I ran.

I ran like hell. Panic overruled my adrenaline. Flight over fight.

"What happened?" Jocelyn asked as soon as I was with the group.

"The bastard's alive," I panted, trying to ignore the tears. "Shelby's gone."

"Son of a bitch," Emily grit her teeth. Briar punched a nearby tree. GC muttered curses under her breath.

"I'm sorry," Jocelyn whispered.

"It's not your fault," I said.

"It is." Jocelyn cried. "He's like this because of me. Ever since Bubba left. I told her to run away."

"Jo, I don' t know what that paint water bucket of a human being told you, but none of this is your fault," I comforted them.

"No, it was," they mumbled. I reached out to hug them. "She was my sister..."

"What..?" Emily asked, looking at the kid.

Jocelyn looked up. "My sister ran away on June 23rd."

~

Hi! Thanks for putting up with my incredibly inconsistent update schedule. I know it's been so long and I'm sorry lmao.

Just so you guys know, if you're in this story and ur pronouns or names change at any point, please let me know! I'm happy to change pronouns and names. You can pm me or comment anytime. However, I gotta say, my pm's lag slower than other notifications for no reason, so if you have my discord or phone number, message me there. But I will reply to pm's! I'll just be a bit slow ._.

Also if my dumb ass forgets to put trigger warnings again PLEASE let me know. I'm really sorry for not putting them in some of the past chapters. And if I need more, let me know.

Kanggang sa susunod na kabanata, guys!

Y̷̨̧̨͇̗͚̫̦̥͎̞͚͎̙̣̹̞̺̻̭̘̱͓̾̀̐̉͑̾̿̂͌̽̿̈́͆̚̚̕͠ǫ̴̠̲̝̥̘̲͍̥̲̝̫̖͍̫͙͓̈͋̚ử̴̧̢̧̧̛̻̜͙̲̘̭̻͈̰͚̞̫̥̪̘͚͖̋͗͂̈́̀͌̓̉̄̄̊́͜͜͠ͅr̸̡̡̢̨̗̙͙̬̱̩̖̺̯̼̤̰̟̩͈̰̞̪͕͇̝̱̬͈̖͓̖̺̬̀͗̍̈́̑̌̂͂̚͜͜͜͝ͅͅ ̸̨̧̟͉͇̝͍̤͇̰̬͈͔̬̮͎͎͎͇̱̹̜̲̎̈́͐͌̅̑̈́̅̊̎̌̿̄͂͒̽̊͛̏̋̈́̀͊͒̀̃́͐̏̅̚̕͘͘̕͠t̸̨̙̱͔̼̯͈̝̎̔̊̓̐͗̓̽̈́̕̕̕ḣ̷̤̞̥̳̗̀̎̽̌͋͂̄͛̓̋̌̋̽̐̊́̂̿͂̐̒̑͂͊̑̂́̚̚͘̕͝͠ŗ̸̨̛̙̦͚̺̫̳̲̭̪̗̪̘̦͇͔̤̙̰̬̗̹͇̻̥̆̿́͋͒̍͋͌̿̌̃̿͋͜͝͝͠ͅȩ̸̢͍̖̬̼̼̪̺̝̠̙̼̺̦͓͕̥̻͍̻̯̭̬̠̮͙̪̉̏̏̐̒̒̿̑͐̄͐̂̀͐̿͐̑̿̍̆͆̽̍̕̕͜͝a̵̧̡̧̢̹̲͚̹̜̲̼̘̟͙̯͚͉̳͈̳̼̯͈̯̥̝̤̦͈̝̘͈̩͍̖͊͗͗̍͂̀̂̈́̍͌͂̏̅̅̿̓́͑̈̀̌̓̀̏͑̌̿͌͌͊̈́̚͜͝͝͝͠t̵̨̧̯̺͈̝͉̭̞̗͈̼͎͖̗̣̖͈͙̯͉̻̼̾ͅs̷͉̲̭̋̔̉͑̾̈̃̾̅̀͐̏̐́́̾̈́̽̊͐̀́̑̿̈̈́͋̅̐͒̆̊͛̅͛̋̚̚͜͠ ̴̡̲̳̜̥̤̖̥͇̈̉̅̄̅ḑ̶̛̛̺̹̜̖̺̮̻͙̍̑͂̿͑̄̄̎̃̈́̾̅̿͛͐̃̂͂̄̽̎̕͘̚͠͝ͅͅo̷̧̙̟͉̞͈̳̼̩̣̳̥̝͎̥̮̦͐̃͑̅̾̈́̓͜͠͝ń̷̨̨̛̛̼͕̝̫̳̟̖̞̱͉̫͚͔̠̮͙͕̬̻̀͆̎̿̀̌̊̀̇̾̓̄͐̑̀̈́̌͘̕͠͝ͅ'̶̧̧̨̟͇͉̯͕̪͎̯͈̺̩̗̜̮̦̻͉̬̭̼̤̰̩̥͓̜̩͓̻͉̣̊̀͌̂̎̇͑̂͋̐̎́́͛͗͊̋̿̓͂͐͋́̚͘͜͜͜͠͝͠ͅt̷̢̻̗̣̬̬͖͎̙͈̼̋̔̐̈́͝ ̴̧̛̩̯̟͖̪̮̺̲̬̺͓̲̆̽̊͊̌̄̀̑̒͂͌̈́̐̓̏̂̒̎̾̕͝͠͝s̶̨̡̧͎͉̗͉̙̲̦͇̭̥̗̱̤̝̱̦͓̣͍̰̰͎̗̣͈̫̬̀̑͒̐͐̔̂̽͂̏̄̑̃̑̓̿̏̎̉̅͑̀͆̌͛̆͗̂̊́́͛̉͘̕̚c̸̨̧̨̛̛͎̮͈͕̲̠̤͇̲̥̝͚͓̞̲̩̝̼̤̞̩͖̦̼̻̾͒̊͛̋͌̊̊̅͒́̾͒̈́̍͗̈͂͑͋͌̈͐̿͊̐͌̚̚͘̚͘͝͠͝ã̷̛̛̬̫͇̯̤͈̩͂̋̿͂͑͂̈́̈̆̀̍̊͊̑͋̂̀͂̎́̄̋̎̑̇̚͘̕͠ř̵̡̢̡̘̖̲̩̻̠̖͔̯̺̟̙͇̖̭͉̬̫̟̣̠̼͉̳̮͈̥̤̄̀͂̀̐̿̄̀̓̈́̊͋͌̆̍̂̾̏̎̉̓̉͘̕͝ͅͅe̶̡̧̧̡̡̛̘̩͓̖̫͉̥̺̬̪̠̞̮̥͈̳̝̅̀̿̃̈́̅̈́̕͝͝ ̵͇̣̝͕̩̤̻͖̜̼͙̳͓̻̗̤̖̺̦̖̅̎́͋̾͌̐̅͛͘͜͜m̵̡͖̗͖̜̫͚̦̯̗͓̀́́̏͂̈́̏̍͗̾̍̀̒̍̑̀͘͜͠ḛ̸̡̛̛̛̛̰̦̮̫̩̪̙̯̘̗͚͈̖̤̝̠̙̣̣̭̗̺͇̦͔̮̙̼̮̏̅͌͂̆͊́͂͒̔͊̍͛̚͜͝ͅ.̷̡̧̢̥̱̝͔͎̠͈͚̝̳̯̤̳͍̙̝̬͎̣̭̬̖̪̬̗̮͉͐̂͛̂̄̾̒̓̄͛͋̔̇̀̃̈́̇̋́̕͜͝͠ ψ

☠ N̴̨̛̛̛̛̬̱͖̼͍͙̬̹̙̮͔̙͍͗̉̈́͂͊͒̃̒̀̃̔̆̑̃̾̿͌̓͋̉̈́̑̐̈́̽̈́̆͋͛̈͛̇̈̓̌̂̽̌̒͗̑͂̆̑̈́͊͊̕̚̕̕̕̕͝͝͝ǫ̶̢̨̛͔̜̮̟̝͉̞͇̠͓͓̱͚̯͇̠͙̰͕̹̻̬͉͔͙̰͉̠̯̺̳͙̙͚̳͖̬̼͔͕̜̤̻̳͚̦̎͗̿̈́͊͋̆͋̈̄̀̕̚͝ͅt̸̡̧̡̨̨̖̟͍̭̼͍͉̱̝̣̟̹͕͚̖͍͈̼̪̱͈͚̜͉̙̮͙̦̙̘̝̪͎̪̰̬̩͇̤͖͓̬̥̳͕̰̺̟̤̩̗͔̳͈̖̝͕̓́̆̈̽̔̊̓͘͜͜ͅḩ̵̡̢̧̪͙͔͕͓͓͉̜͉̮̬͓̣͓̖͍͕̥͇͉̘͈̗̳̯̮̤̥̬̻̼̥̥̗̄̌͒͒͗̀̿͋̽́̒̏̓̒̓̅̇͌͌͊͌̚̕͝ͅͅi̶̡̢̧̢̨̨̛̗̹͈̤̥͍̜̱͉͕̗̺͎̬̲̘̗̟̱̲̩̺͕͎̙͇̭̥̣͍̪̪̖̳͕̓̐̍̃̇́̀̊̌̑̿̀͌͝ͅͅͅn̵̡̢̡̡̡̡̛̗̥͎͍̱͖͙͎͍͉̣̦̪̗̦̞̥͍̳̜͔̣̳͖̼̯̟̥̫͎̥̦̬̻͖͊̀̎̄̏͋͆̌̊̀̉͜͜͜g̵̢̨̛̛̼̰̱̤̙̱̞̟̲̤͊̉̋̊̋̋̔̾͗͒̉̇̒̅͋̀͂̌̑̐͌͆̈́͒͗́̿̒̍̈́̉͘̕̚̚͝͝͝͠ͅͅ ̶̧̜̫͖͔̼̲͚̜͍̮̥̺̻͉̤͎͕̩͖̮̼͍͔͍̗͕̖̫̭̞̰̹̳͖̮̬͋̍̈͒͋̃̋̏̅̆̋̽͊̌̍̾̉͆̾͐͆̊̑̂̍͗̈́̈́̾̂͑̉̔̽͛̀̎̌̅̏̈́̌̆̚̚͘͘̕̕͘̚̕͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝d̵̢̧̢̧̢̧͍̟̲̠̬̲͇͉̥̻̱̤͔͖̺̙͚͚͈̦͖̣͍̼̜̞̹̫̪̙̖̳̳̠̩̱͔̯̖̰̼̥̮͉̲͔͚̱͍̰̩̮̾́̋͛̈́̊͗̾̍́̎̄̆̓́̓͑́͗̊͊͊̋̈̂̑̓̓̽̃͗̋̕̕͜͝͠ơ̸̲̲͉͍͖̖̖̭͚̥̤̏̈́͗͌̏̂̌̓̾̔̐̀̍̀͝͝e̴̡̡̨̨̡̢̨̡̱͈̥͈̹͍̭̹̥͇̻̫̟̝̥̳̗͙̬̦̺̙̪̞̻̜̩̞̦͙̳͖̙̪̯̣̤̜̗͚̩̩̜̙̪̰͉̱͖͓̓̅̒̈̓̃̏̒́̿͂͂̎̍̌͌̇̎̅͐̈́͑̊͂͆̅̂͐̎͒͆͆̽͌̆͗̒̈́̓̐̏̊́̅͆̍͊͊̄͗̊̕͘̕͘̕̚͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅş̷̧̡̧̨̢̭͙͍̥̗̖̠̤̟̳͉̦͇̩͍͎̤̪̪͚͍̭͔̲̪̹̰͔͚̞͙̲͓̤͓̤͇͇̩͔̩̹̭̞̲͍̞̟̰̪̯̎̀́̅̄̎͑ͅ ψ

☠ Ÿ̷̡̢̡̨̛̪̬͙̙̫̘̞̠͈̤̩̺̟̫̻̞̙̩̙̻͕͈̖͍͎̳͖̺̺̠͇̮͉͎̯͇̩͖̒̃̐̇͋̓̓̊̅͛͗̈́͗̓̈̑̍̑̃̒́̎̕͘̕͜͜͝͠ͅǫ̸̡̨̨̨̛̘͔̫̠̹̮͈̬͇̫̙͍̹̦̩̪͉͈̗̺̤̺̤̖̫̹̠̼͓͛̋̍̂̿̂̔̑̅̈́̈́̆̈́̊͋̍͂̑̄̈̎̆͊̂͋̋̈́͂̐͛̇̌̊͌́́̈͘̕̕͘͘̕͘̕̚͘̚͝͝͠͝͝͝ư̵̧̗̗͇͕̘̙̝̫̞̺̟̎͛̔̌̇̄͋̊́̀͐̀̈́̔̏̀͐̄́̃̎̊̀̄͋́̈́͂̅̂̈́́̈́̎̎̾̆̓͗̏̽̔́̉̌̊̕̚͘̚̕̕͝͝͠͝͝ͅ ̸̧̨̨̢̛̛̛̝̯͍̝̲̩͉̪̪̣̥͇̙̤̩̘̬͔̯͖̰̝͚̞̞̦̪̼̮̼̠̱̼͚̳̭̙͉̙̹̗̩͖̺̼͉͍̮̭́̈́̌̒̑͌̐̄̄̑́̇̓̈́͒̃͂̓͊͌̌̅̍̈́͑̊̂͋́̄̉̿̀̽̐̅́͋̎̊̎̽̉̍̒́̅̈͂͂͘͘̚͘̕͜͜͜͝ͅͅͅķ̵̢̧̜̫̣̮͙̙̜̤̥͚̘̘̯̻̣̱̺̫̆̅̀̽̆̂͑̿̎͂̑̌̾̈́̍͐̋̉̎͑͘͠͝ņ̵͖͈͇̥̩̱̹͇͙͔͈̟̩͎͚̻̗̝̲͙͎̘̩͔̹̣̞̗̜̻̲͚̜͓̖̤̌̈́̌͊̉̒̏͋͆͑̊̀̽̌̌̎͋̽̃̏̆͋̍̊̎̈́̈́̀̍͐͋̈́́̄̍̌́̑̏͂̔̈́̆̉̊́̓̑͑̃̽̊̍̃̎͘͜͜͝͝͝͠͝ȍ̸̡̧̧̟̬̩͕͉͕͍̱͕̞͇̹̱̙̰̥͍̟̦͓̦̭̙͍͎̙̖͔̙̰̦͚̻̫̙̻̹͖̘̖̘̩̘͉͇͚̥͙̟͉͓̻̪̻̾̂͆̀̄̈́̃͗̔̋͋͋́͂̈́̈́̒̇̈́̂́̆͒̈̊̽͗̉͛͋̄́̎͂̆̅͆́̚̚̕̚̕̚̕͘͜ͅẃ̶̢̧̨̗̞͍̩͍̝̪͎͍̘̭͈̰͕̬̙̗̫̼͉̹̞̦͚̠͉̗͔̙̥̥̳̘̜͕͉͖̼̖̦̙̟͇̤̪͙̬̩͖̻͓͍̬̳̭͒͐͆́͋̒̎͂̿̑̆̔͜͜͝ ̵̡̨̨̧̧̢͕̪̹̱͎̟̥̬͈̘̹̳̩̼̥̻̘͕̺̗̜͚̪͎͈̹̬̲̭̙̗͎̹̰͕̘̣͉̜̤̯̺̤̦̱̘̮̤̯̻̜̯̣̖̺͋̆͋́͊̽͒̑̀̀̀̕̚͜͠ͅn̸̡̧̨̜̼͓̬̝͓͔͉̮̹͙̼̲̖̠̩̞̖͕͕̳͍̞̯͚̪̫̺̙̪͎̲̦̤̓̊͗͜͜ͅơ̶̡̨̡̧̢̨̡̢͙̟͉̜̙̜̫̠̝̤̪̞̪̖̩̜̪͔̠͓̪̫̠̯̗̼̬̩̬̹͚̩̙̼̮͕̩̭̝͇͈̜̫̱̭̐͊̒̉̈́͂̀̈̋̉̂̾̄̎̓̎͌͛̈́̍̀͛̍́͆̔̀͗͊͒̽̇̈́̈͐̈́̀̾̓̎̊͆͂̍̐̌́̓̈́́̑̏̌̄̌͘̕͘͜͝͝t̴̨̧̛̠̲̗̩̳̭̣͈͍̣̯͉͎̤̻̯͕̪̫̱͍̥̹̋̅̽̈̏̾̑̊͊̅͆̈́̃̈̇́͛̔͝ͅͅh̸̨̘̞̟͚̤͕̍̋́͌̌̋́͗͑͂̀̿͂́̽̊̓́͂̀̂͊̀̃̀̿͝i̶̢̢̢̢̮͔͚̥̫͉̪͙̼̰̟̺̻̪͖̠̫͉̣̞͍͔͎̺̦̘̩̹͖̭͙͇̣̥̙̖̪͇̜̹̜͙͙̹͊̎̀̆̉̇̄̀̿̈̉ņ̵̧̨̛̣̳̯̖̳̗̙̞̗̞̝͇̤̹̙͈̙̮͚̲̭̖̜͚͎͔̯̜̭̪̜̬̥̥̞̣͇̗̤̗̦̫̤̫̝͙͚̣͖͉͓̜̜̦̯͍̇͋̀̇̏͌̍̾̿̏̒̆͛̂̃̆͂̎̊̇̒̎̄̆̌̅͆̌̾̏͆͘͘͜͠͠͝ͅͅͅg̸̢̢̧̡̡̛̥̳̘̟̙̹̖̰̲͎͎̖̹̤̯̹̪̪̹̹͎͎͇̲͙̦̭̫̺̫͓̹̹̯̺͇̻͔̰̊̈́̓̂̈͗̈́̾͛͐͑̓̿̌̀̆̒͆̓͆̓̈́͐͌̈̌̏̐̉̆̆̏̃́͂̂̅̈́̑̊̉̿͌̎́̿̚͘̕͝.̸̢̨̡̧̡̢̧̛̯̦͇͇̟͕̭̘̬̯̼͎͖͍̻̱͙̥̪̲͙̺̣̫͔͔̲͚͉̪̪̣̗̣̮̣̦̟͙͉̪̱͔̖͙̞̗̬̟̫̼̤͉̒̾̌̇͂̈͌͋̄̌̓͗̃̿̃̏͌̆̓̓̐́̄͒͐̒̈́́̍̎̄̀̀̂̈́̀̈́̏͋̈͋̄̒́́̃̆̔̈́̑̚͘͠͠ͅͅ ⛥

⛥ ☠̵̢̨̛̯̪̻̼̙͓̥͍̠̘̰̝͉͚̙̼̱͍̰̘̙̟̗͖͖̪͉̙̤̰̬͚̪̯̮͎̘͚͕͚͌̈́̔̏͋̌̉͛̄̿̆̈́̌̿̍̇̿̀̓̇̂͗̈̓̒͛͒͋̕̚̚͜͠ͅͅͅ ̷̡̢̨̨̧̛̛̮̥̬̭̟͓̮͈̣̼̦̹͔̯̠̆͐̆͌͐̿̈́̒̑̒̾̀͑̽̆̇̂̈͌̅̆͒̈́̄́̌͋̐̄̽̎̏̌̋̚͜͜͜͝͝͠͝⛧̷̨̢̡̧̧̡̛̛̛̖͕͖̦̭͖̖͖͙͔͖̤̟̻̳̮̼̯͓͇̯͚͎̫̅̀̆̔̈́̃͛̇̔͋̽̀̎̓̃́̃́̋͗̽̈̀̍̐̈́̈́̇̊̈́̇̅́́͋̔̄̍͘̕̚͜͜͜͠͝͠ͅ ̸̢̨̢̢̢̢̛̖͙͔̪͈͔̳͙͖̬̫̻͙̭̖̬̘̻̯͕͕̮̣̯̬͍̭͙̤͍̭̺̖̫̰̰͎͑̓̒͆̌̾̓͑̎̎̓͐̽̒́̏̀͑̓̂̋͗̇́͊͛̋̈͑̾̽͒̃̌͂̾̏͊̈́͆͂̕͜͝͠͠͝͝͝͝Ṉ̴̨̨̢̧̨̨̗̘̫̮̻͚̙̻̣̜͖̻̲̘̞̖̯͉̗̻͉͎̗͓͈͈̮̹̰̖͍͈͖̝̪̝͋̑̒͜͜ͅͅî̷̢̨̤͇̗̝̠̬̝͖͈͕̲̙̻͎͈̲̺̣̻͈͓͌̆͊͂͑̓̒̓͆̄͐̂͐͛̈́͑͊͒̓͑̔̀͊̀́͘̚̚͠͝ͅc̸̢̢̡̨̳̗̫͚͈͓̤̼͈̹̬͔͓͔̠̹̣̮̹̲̰͕̣̱̈́̆͗͋͐̑̄̍̍̑̍̒́̀̀̽̄̋̉̅̿̕̕̚͝ͅè̶̛̬̺̟̮͚͔̖̟̥̭͈́̌̃͌̍̆͆̅̆͗̌͒̇̈͆͋̒̎̅͂̉̆̀̒̒͌̌̑̈́̊̅̌͌̇̓̋̿̂͌̌͆̏̕̕͘̚̕͝ͅ ̷̢̼̯͙̠͓͉̠̰̟̜̩̘͍̣̲̥̺͖̪̥̩̘̳̗̱̹͛͜ͅͅt̸̡̧̳̬͍͈͖͙̤̻̯̰̳̺̭̻̜̠͓̻̫̗͚͎̲̫͓̖̹͈̟̹͖̦̱̦̣̫͉̥͛̿͜ơ̷̛̳̝͚̯͚̟̩̱̻̊̋̏͂̓̅͑͛̄̓̈́̂̑͐̐͑̈́̈́̾̽̍͘̕̕̚͝͝ ̶̨̢̡̛̙͉̬̹̫̰̺̣̳͕̗̤̠͕̹̥̻͓͔͈͓̯̝̏̒̈́̈́͊̆̑͂̓̽͐͑́̋́̿̑̌̂̽̑̌̄͐͛̅̌͑̽̀̌̀̒̇͑̾̉͌̇͘͘͜͝ͅs̴̨̢̛̞̳̲͍̫͙̗̗̻̰͇̳͍͓̜̘̫͔̻̹̤̦͉̯̦͓̻̰̲̦̆͆̈̽̉̎͊͐͌̓́̇͗͑̈́́̌̈́̔͋̂͗̎͜͝ͅȅ̶̢̢̫̗̝̱̼̜͍͖͎͈̖̱̣̲̘̻͖͎̮̠̦̩͚̙̭͇̺͔͍̗̯̜̗͕̩̖̣͉̙̣̺̘e̶̢̢̢̛̛͖̬̬̼͕̜̝̬̟̭̖̩͍͇̬̘̦̜̻̩͙̗̔͂́̐̅͛̎͊́́̇͆̔̾͆̋̍̈́̓͛͂̋͊̐̓̐̾̈́̃̋̎̐̉̓̔̓͘̚̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅ ̶̫͇̤̘̖͓̩̮͎̱̯͈͈͇͙̫̣̥͔̘͍̭̯͕͈͕̮̾̾̾̿̿̇̑̅̈́͐͌̈́̓̈́͌̄̀̃̋̓͗͊̈́̄̓̚̕̕̕͝͝a̵̧̛͔̺̱̮̞̩̝̤̗͖̬͍͆̂͒̎̅͊̄̀̒̀̂̑̍͆̇͝͝͝͠͠ͅ ̵̧̡̨̨̨̛̖̼̠̭̟̳͉̠̬͈̹̰͚̘̘̖̪̲̹̲͔͉̯͕̠̪̺̗̤̜̙̰̜̰̯̮͔̪̘̻͚̥̯̽̃̋̈́̐̔̾̔͐̎̇͑̆̏̄͒̌̈́̀̐̀̍̐͆͑͒̄̇̎̑̑͒̓͑͌̍̋̍͋͑̕͜͝͠͝ͅl̶̢̡̧̛͇̤̖̜̪͍̟͙̩͖̻̳̱͚͓͖͇̮̮̻̰̺̖̝̱̼̹̘̗̞͑͗̍͋̿͋́́̆̉̃̅̆͋̂͗̉̅͌̚͜͝ͅo̵̧̡̢̡̧͎̭̲̳̳͓̻̦͉̤͉̩̰͚̞͍̗̗̦͕̟̞͉̗̭͎̖͍̹̖̼͓͙͓͚͈̪͈͖͚̭͂͊͘͘̚v̷̡̢̛̛̛̭̗͈̠̮̞̩͕̞̞̟̖͈̼̘̲͕̖̞̫̙̠̲͙̽̈̐̓́̋̈́̋̑̋̈́́̌͂̂̉̾͛̃͋̐̀̅̓̇̒͋̆̿̕͜͜͝͝ͅȩ̵̢̧̧̡̛̤͔̯̲̠̹͔͖̦̯͚͔̙͇̰̤̺͚̥̺̫͖̱̤͍̺̩̮͕̼̦͖̥͉̀͑̅́́̏̇́́̏͑̉͛͛̉̈́͐̈́̄͒̋̈́̋͋͛̈́͐̐̋̃͂̍̇͌̆͘̕̚͜͝͝͠͠d̵̛͍̬͇̬͎̬̤̯̞͚̰̩̽̒̑́͑̿͛̀̋̂̕͜͝ͅ ̶̨̛̛͖̝̳͈̺̯͙͕͕̙̯̈͌̾͒̍͋̽̋̆͛̽̈́͛̎͒̿̅̅̊̉̍̆̆̈́̐́̆̋̈́͐̒̀̾͌̃̍̽̉͐̚͠͠ĉ̷̼͉̦̲̱̹̝̱̣̳̞̱̥͕̪͙͕̻̲͇͙̖͔̜̞͖͎̜̼͌͑̆̄̿̀̈́̊̓̿͊̎̀̓̏̀͛́̎̾͋̀̑̋́̎͋̃́̿̆̿̓͗͒̍̒͗̕̚̚h̷̛̛̘͂̑̍̃̾̔́̅̂͊́̕̚͝a̴̢̪̱̮̦͚͕̟̜̪̱̠̦̗͕̣͈̗̥̓̑̇͂͜r̵̦͇̤̙̤̱̺͎̺͖̰̳̞̳̣̤̭̯͍͙͎̗̟͈̞͎̤̹̩̽̌͛͆̒͌̈́͛̆̆̇́͑̈́͒̓̃͒́̅̅̂̎͛̽͌͌̚͘̕͝͠͝͝ă̵̡̧̧̛̛̙̺͔͔̭̻̟̭͚̮͓̟̹͓͉̥̠̰͍̠̠̦͖͚͕̥̯̲̖͎͚̺̲̳̞̪̻̌̒̀̾̄̈́́͆͊̑̀̉͆̃̑͆̉̐̈́̉̌͊̈̄̅̍͗́́̅̃̊̎̆̐̓͑̓̆̚̚̚̕͜͠͝͝͠ͅc̶̢̭̹̬̹̙͈̹̰͓͖̘̱͎͈̳̥̐̉̈̒͑̿̍́͋̄̔̊̐͐̕̕͜t̸̛͔͚̙̲̟͔̣͖̪̖̀͐̓̓̇̄͋̄͊̂̏̎̈́̂͗͌̓̏̈́̀̉̕͘̕̚͘͘͠͠ȩ̴̡̢̢̡̛̳̞͉̟̠̠̠̣̬̥̺̹̪̯͈̬̥̱̻̙̱̲͉̘̺͖̝̰̭͍͎̬̺̤̫̀̍͒͋͗̾̏̓̍̈́̅͊̔̀̒̂͐̽̾͋́͑̐̿͌̀͐̓̿̊̋͂̀͘͘͠͝͝͠ͅr̷̡̛̛͕̼̖̙̘͔͓̻͙͖̩̟̫̹̲̬̻͉̭̼̰͍͚̖̮̱̣̘͎̝̻̝̰͙̫͈̯̬̩̜̂̉͐̉̃͌̒̅̏̃̅̽̄̓͛̓̽̈́̉̈́́͒͐̓̈́̉͗͗̿̍̀̅͛͌̾͌̚͘͝͠͝ͅͅ ̸̢̨̡̨̟͉̠̪̫̘̰̘̯̭̲̟̯̭̯̫̼̺̙̫͔͎͍̖̹͉̥̺̝͙̜̞̞̗̗͚̜͉̥̮̞̪̮͖͎̀̍͛̐̈́̐͛́͑̆̊͜͝ͅͅǵ̵̨̢̧̧̗̤̻̘̜̬̫̦̫͕̼̟͙̩͙̝̗͈̦̻͈̙͉̼̩̲́͋̓̅͌̿̍̅͆̄͆̀͗̽̌͐̓̽͒̌̉͐̀͌̎̏̀̚͜͝͝͝ơ̷͍̜͖̪̬̦͉̲̙̪̟͚̹̬̤͙̻̏̆͛͋͋̅͛̾̍̀͐̇̆̾̅͂͌̉̀͆̄̃͐̀̏̅̂̍̆̾̈́̌̐̎͊̉̒̍͂̍̒̀͂̉͑̕̕͘ ̸̡̢͕̭̳̤̘̝͔͓̦̫̥̺̩̱̜͖͖̜͖̺̗̹̠̰̻̩̲̺̬̤̥͖̳̽̽͆̈́͂͛́̀͛̓̀̑͊͆̅̓̏̆̂̇̓̊̚͜͜͜ͅB̷̧̢̨̨̢̛̛͖̘̞̮̱̖̤̫̗͍̭̤̺̱̲̬̰̬͚̗̗͚͎̙̦̞̠͍͚̩͉̖͓̺͎͇͇̞̘̙͈͓̱̰̦̋̈́̃͊̾̈́̈́̏̂̄̅̀̈̅̐̋̾̊̆̋̾̂̆̍́̀̇̒̏͌͒̈̾̿͂̈̓̈̈́͂̈́̆̉͒͘͜͝Ô̷̯̦̤̗̟̞̟̬̬̟̄̈͛̅̚̕͘͜͜͝Ǫ̶̧̧̧̨̪̤͓̬̣̩͕̤̯̫̘͉̘͚̻͙̗͈̭̱̮͔͍̗̩͕̰̼̳̼̹̭̺̗̟̣̝̹̞̹̩̥̘̈́͊̊͆̀̓́̄͌̎̄̈͂͝M̶̨̨͕͎͓̗͎̱͇͗̈́̈̐̃͆͂͘ͅ,̷̨̨̢̧̢̻͖͈̦͔͇̥̩͍̳̭̣̖̼͙̦̖͔̖̭̩͓̣͕͍̪̦̯̹͚̹̪̄̀̾͐͋̑̅̈́͋͗̄̒̐̽͛̄́̽͌̎̕̚͝ͅ ̴̨̨̢̢̛͖̭̗̝͍̣̼̪̤̦̪͙̠͍̪͍̱̓̑̊͛̈́̎̆̀̅͂̇͐͋̾́̽̔̋̿̎̑̆̈̅̋̋̏̍́̿̓͗̽̒̄͘̕͠͝͝ͅr̶̨̟̼̺̩͕͎̈́̽́̌͛͂͂́̎͒̔̅͗͑̾̓͐̀̾́̔͒̈́̉̒́̚͘̚͝͠i̵̧̤̤͙͙̜̝̱͇͓̖̜̝̼͎͙̣̠̞̼̻͋̉̔͂̆̈́͜͜͜g̴̡̢̧̛̘̫̜̯̥̜̖͖̬̖̼͖͈̘͂̀͆͋̇̄̌̓͆̑̇͆͛̆̿́́̀́͆͂̈́̐̕̕͠͝h̶̡̧̢̡̨̹̱̼͔͖̙̥̼̜̤̭̗͚̼̩̥̣̹͔̼̤̟͚̯̣͓̪̪͚͖̙̻̳̻̹͇͇͖̳͍̏̆̾́̾̈́̅̒̽͒̾̌̀̑͂͑̊̑̓̋͋́̓̒̉̉̊̀̏̄̌̈́͊̀̔͌́̐̿̒̍̈́̓̚̚͘͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͝͝ͅͅt̵̢̡̨̡̨̢̡̰͚̤̙͈̼̘͉̣̹̟͇̬̠̘̥̬̮̖̬̖̫͉̜̞͖͈̠͔̤͔̝͉̜͚͇̘̲̿͗̇̅́͋̀͂͒́̿͐̾́̑̃̎̀̔̑͋̉̈̐̃̅͊͂̈́̇͋͋̄͗̚̕̕͝ͅͅͅ?̴̨̡̹̱̤̰̺̭͕̜̞͎̬̜̊́̋͑̏̄̔̓͒͆͘͜͜ ̸̢̯̮̠̻̺̫̘͕͖̳̯͉̜͕̻͖̣̼̫̫͉̼̳̭͗̽̔̇̄̋̅̐̔̾͆̉̆̈́̋̃̏͑͌̿̍̃̿͒͂͐̄̀̿̎̓̉͊̊̚̕̕͜͝͠͝ψ̴̗̰͚̪̗̤̹̪̞͈̝̜̱̜̤̟̥͖̤͔͍̯̬̿̄̃̓͌̄̈́̊̎̈͋́̈̎̍͛͊̌̋̓͊̀̽̈́͊͑̉͘̚͘͝ͅ ̶̢̧̡̨̭͕͓̱͈͚̣͎̜̱͍̥̘͚̘̥̙͕̫̺̘̺͓̻͖͙̜͙̲͙͙̳̜̻̗̜̤̲͊͋̌̐̇̽̃͗͜͜͜͝ͅψ̵̢̧̢̧̗͓̥͉̬̺̤͓͈̹̟̯̹͇̬̲̝̪̭͙̯̣̱̱̮̜̲̼̱͎͓͔̰͇̻̀̏̂͐͠ͅ ⛥

ψ Ş̴̦̩̤͍̹͍̫̯͔̙̖̥͈̗͋̐̎̋̏̈́̔̿͑̂́́̍̅̋͑̐̉̕͘͠͠͝ͅḩ̶̛͕̻̻͙̲̘̹͕̙̝͖̺̯͓͍̠̲̬̜͔̟̬͉̠͎̞̰̲̫̱̳͖̳͓̬̱̈́̈̃̉̃̾͐́͆̓̓̏̿͛̐̾̊̉̒̅̀́̐̋̃͛͗̅̓̓̕͘͘͜ͅͅę̸̢̡̨̧̨̧̛̙̤͕̫̜̪͇̘̻̺͉͈͍̦͖̞̺̗͉̠̳̺͚̗͎̺̩̣̬̺̘̰̰̫͋̊̔̏́̐̀̍͑̂̍̾̿͛͊͋̀̈́̎̎̈́͂̑͗̐̃̊́̿̃̇̌̌͂̈́̾̊̽͌̑̓̈́͜͝͠͝͝'̸̧̠͕̬̹̻̥͉̖̭̘̝̺̲̈̌̈̎́̍͐́̌̂́͒̒̋̈̈́́̈́̈͆͊̄̏͆̃͛̈́͑̾͆̚̕͝͠ś̵̨̢̡̢̡̡̧̨͈͓̰̹͚̠̤̗͍̦̞̯̩̜̪̳͎͍̗͓͙͉̬̞̞̦̭͚͚͇̟̣̫̝̜̓͌͆̈́̔̌̊̈́̆̈́͛̓̉͌̃̔̄́͑̊̾̉͑̂͌̆͌̓̀͂͛̎̅̓̾͑̃̎̃̃͋̎̍͆̓̀̽͊͒͊͗̚̚̚͜͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͠ ̶̧̡̡̢̡̹͉̦̙̯̤̙̫̬̯̤̪͈͕͔͙͕̲͇̖̻̮̞̯̣̠̭͍̤̣̺͚̥̯̜̠̥̺̜͉͖̥͍̖͚͖̦̠̬͎͈̊̀̀́̐̂̂͋̄̒͑ņ̸̢̢̡̨̡̢̢̢̛̛̥̳̝̩̩̼͉̼̮͉͔̥̻̻̜̘̖͇͕͈̲̺̹̟̯̪̪̖̠̱͙̤͈̭̜̺̠̟̯̗͙̭̝͓̭̹̳̬̱̩̼̝̘͕̳̪̄̆͊̑͊͒̅̂͛̈͆̽̀͂͂̔̊̂͋̽̒͛̈́͂͛̓̀̈́̑̅͊͛̎̃̈͒̓̇͊́̒̽̈́͊̂͑̒́̇̊̏̒͒̄͗̂̉̕͘͘͜͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅǫ̴̢̛̛̛̘̹̠̠̰͕̮̠̤̱̱͙̗͇͕͕̞̳̙̈́̊͊͌̉́̏̅̍́̀́̉̐̂̽̋̌̚̚͠ͅẗ̸̡̢̨̢̛̼̥͙̯̟̱̪̞̟̣͍̹̗̻̮͙̥̲̱̼̤̼̼̻̺̝̬̫̤̰͎̪͚̻̖̦͖̼̼̞̤͉̣͎̫̹́̏͋̓̈́̅̌̏̔̌̎͐̎̑͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͠ͅ ̴̛͚̹̞̯̥͕̺̖͈̲͖̹̲̙̜̤̼̩͎̣̲̜̩̔̒̑̐̀͋̔̾̅̾̇̌͋̇̃̊͆͒̔̎̆̈́͌̒̐͌̋́͐͌͒͛̉̄͂͒͐̂͗̐̀̆̎́̕̕͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅt̷̡̢̢̛̤̥̻̩̜̘̘̞̳̻̭͙̠͍̟͍͕̜͕͓̺͓̞̟̮̟̲̳͍͈̩͈͖̬͚̻͙̘͔̞̹̖̘̹͔͖̩͇͍̊̾͐̋̈̎̃̔̓̍͒́̊͒̓͌̿̎́̓̔̀̐͌͗̅̽͒̈̍̄͗̇̔͆̅͊̃̄̈́̐͊̅̀͊̀̇̍͂́͛̚̕͘̚͝͝͠h̷̨̡̧̢̢̛͚̝͎̙̬͍̖͖͙̥͖̗̖̲̦͙̰̜͉̘̰͓̫̭͍̱̲̤̦̲̖͈̳͇̜̻̤̻͇̮̀̄͋͛̾̽̃̈́̓̓̈́̈́̆͒̓͑̊̑̃̀̓͂͛̀͐̉͐̋̓̈́̓́̅̿̋͊̕̕͘͝͝͠ę̶̧̡̡̛͉͙̗͈̱̤̺̲͇̺͖̲̳͇̹̻̬͎̲̳̜̝̙̼̝͈͚̗̖̠̣̘̌͆̈́̏̉͂̍́̂̋̀̄̐̇̿̈̍̈́̽̈́̈̓͆̐͒̉̈́̏̀̉̃̆̄̋͑̏͑͆̑̋̑́̈́̚͘̕̚̚͝͝͠ͅͅ ̴̢̨̢̨̧̢̟̠̤͖̳̩̖̞̮̩̫̯̝̼͇̺̦̯̲̯͇͔̯͔̣̹͇̬̼̙̭͍͓̳̀̊͛͋̐̔͂̉̃̉̍͋͐̈́̇̅̇͗̉͐͋͜ͅl̶̢͓̯͔͈͇͈͖̲̖͎̻̱̲̮̊̌͂à̶̡̢̧̨̧̨̛̛̛̙̝̯̖̻̟͇̳̭̦̲̜͉̲̟̜͔̬̘̪̫̙̯͔̮̪̯̖̲̪̗͎̥͈̝̗͉͓͎̤̫̜̝͉̘͙͇̥̞͌͑̌̅͑͒̓̇͒̎̏̈̈́͆̄̀͐̀̑͒͗̈̈́̊͊̉̏̂̓̆̏͋́̔͋̾̐͛͗́̾̑͌́̃̔͊̋̎̎͆̈́̊͗̒̔̑̌̆͊̾̇͛͘̕͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅs̸̜̳̹͛̅̅̓̉͐̎̌͊̇̈͋͛̈̌͆̿̈́̊͑̓͐̐̐̇̇̿̓̇͛͐̈͑̚͝͝͝ẗ̶̢̨̛̛̛̤̮̩͙͚̪̦̻̩͇̘͚͉͉̠͓͖͉̠͓͕́́̑̓͌̍̔͑͒̑̐̊̾̈̈̍̎̎̄̍̌̔͊̅̃̊̓͊̈́́̑̃̐̓̚͘͘̕͝.̶̧̭̝̮̱̜͕̂̎̐͂̈̉̇͊͛ ⛥

⛧ Ư̷̩̭͂̄́͊̽̍̓́́̆͒̈́͗͂̾̿̋͗̀̑͗͊̀̐̓͗͊͂͋͒͗͆͗̒́̀̂͌͗͊̎̊̕͝ǹ̷̢̢̛̛͓͓̼̙͕̬̯͖̬͉̤̩̙̞̺̩͔̰̱͚̬̞̐̑͒̂̅̏͛́̅̄̌͒̍̉̽̀̓̈̓͒͑̌̃̽̃̊̉̈͛͋͊̌͂́̀̃͐̐͊̎̒́̇͐̌̇͑͑͆̐͛̾̽̑̕̕̕͘̕̚̕̚͝ť̵̢̙͙̩͈͚̮͙̠̘̦̟̘͙̩̮͕͍̻͙̜̬̹̘̹̲̻͉̞̞̮̞̯̘̤̙̰͔̮̲̃͂̽̓̐̉̑͊̉͋̂̔͜ͅͅi̸̢̡̢̧̧̡̛̛̼̫̫̺͈̖̱͎̥̼̼̮͙̱͖̲̖͎̼̘̠̙̖̱̯͈̩̭̠͚̜͈͙͓̞͚̱̦̟̬͔͔̪̱̙͂̆̌͑̋̎͛̇́̅̀̈̀̏́̐̽̊̃͆̑̐̂͌͑̾̄̐́̂͂̎͐̊̊͌̓͋͂̒̂̿́̆́͘̕̚̕̚̕͜͠͠ļ̸̢̧̡̧̧̼̱͉͎̥̼͈̤̩̟̫̬͙͎͉͎͍͚̫͉̺̬̭͉̞͖̞͇͍͓̳̹͕͈̲̙̙̥͓̼͉̥̬̞́̂̏̈́́̄̔̓́̈͂̈́̀͊̇̉̑̓̏̿̐́̀̓̋͌̄͑͗̕̕̕͜͜͝ͅ ̶̧̧̨̡̨͚͉̰̙͕͈̠̱̲̲͇̪̲̭̳̘͍̣̪̭̥̘̝̥͎͖̪̰͇̰̣̺͔͍̖͖̯̙̙̺̣̙̥͓̪̲̤̖̯̺͓̜̤̳̼̖͗̀͆̑́̌̈́̏̍̌͐͐̅̂͌̊̾̕͝͝ͅn̷̡̨̢̢̧̧̢͕̤̤̝̣͙̣͉̤̗̱̤̟͉̘͍͉͈̰͇̳̹̹̱̱͎̝̝̥̤̘̂̌̈́̋̐̾͐̎͝͝ḝ̷̢̨̛̛̛̯̼͇̱̣̠̞̻̰͇͕̝͚͈̫̤̖̮̤̮̠̮͓̳͚̟̲̱̣̼͍͇̻̯̤̟͉̘̖̻̪̾́́̉͛̍̿͂̔̔̍̋̊̀̀̊̇͗̔̃̔͂̋͂͌͑̐̓̀̆͂̂̿͒̔́̽̽̓̓̿̿̓́́̈́̽͘̕̕̕͘x̸̢̡̛̛̛̛̞̝̥͈̘͉̲̣̠̣̟̮̘̦̜͈̠͎͙̮͇͈͌̆͐̅͆̄̉͒͗̽̓̅̄͒̾̇͗̇̔̒̈́̾̈́̾̈̓̃̽̐̏̄̌̃̃̓̋͂̎̃̑͂̇̃̅̍͛͘͘̚̕͘̕̕͜͝͠͝͠t̸̡̨̧̢̡̡̧̧̪̩͉͔͉̻̹̼̼̟̳̬̠̫̤͕̠̖͖̻̱̗̫̹̜̹̙̠͇͔͔̖̟͇̞͓̣̮̙̬̤̗̭̜͓͙̥̦̰̠̝̭̫͓͙̫̙̹̖̗̖͎̼̝̗͍́͆̈́̆̏́͆͊̽̈͋̓̔͊̀̂̾̋̕̕͘̕͘̕ ̶̨̢̛̛͚̗͍̟̱̗̰̫̭͚̰͚̤̥̩͔̘̺͇̹̣̖̫̤̱̗͉͈͉̫͎̥͔̠̺͎͙̪͍͕͈̻͖̹̝̼̐̀̆̇̄̀̿͒͗͗̑̄̂̌̍̅͆̎̎͒̒̃̓̋̐͌͂͛̈̌̎͐̀́̋͋̍̎̄͗̄̐̆́͑̀̋͘͜͜͜͠͝͠͠͠ͅͅt̶̨̧̡̡̨̡̰̟̺̞̠̖͔̜̗͕͕̖̬͇͇̟̳̣̼̦̙̖͇̼͈̙̗̟͙̩̝͍̹̠̲͖͎̯̳̩̠̪̬̏̀̔͌̄̓͒̌̽͛̍̇̽̈́͐͂́̆̉̽̔̌̌̿̎̈́̃͐͌̾̾̓͑̈͒͌̾̓̒̈̍̑͗̒̍͋̐̍̎̂̽̈́͛̔̚͘͘͘͜͝͠͝ͅi̷̡̧̡̢͍̣̲̝̦̙̠͕̖̻̞̼̫̟͔̺͎͓͈̫̤̯͎̫̯͔̱̺̟̬͈̙̣̯͎̟̘̘̗͇͇̘̺͈̘͔̩͎̬͚͔͕̲̼̦̰̺̙̥̹͙͓̹̖̖̯̟͕̦̭͗̔̈́̓̐m̴̧̡̢̛͙̰̮̭̹͉͈͖̹̠̻͓̥͓̱̤̭̖̼̦͍̖̪͕̦͎͚̺̬̦͚̩̳̦͇͂͑͐̈́́́̊̈́̈́̒͌̇̓͌̓̑͘͘̕̕͜͠ͅͅe̶̡̡̢̨̨̧̧̥̱̻̫̮̻̬̝̝͚̘̙͈͓͖̳͖̳̮̩̬̣̙̥̞͈̰͕͚̪̥̝͕̘̮̤̟͓̮̣̱̫͈͙̘͕͎̯͔͖̝̻̠͔̭͇̜̫͔̩̫̯̪̤͍̮̜͒͆̅͊̐͑͗̉̔̾̑͆̈́̓̂͗͋̄̈́̿̔̀̅́̓̊̎͋̑͒̑̐̒́̆̈̏̎͒̓̈́́͐̀̓̈̅͑̇̂̊̔̋̒̍͛̍̕̚͘͘͘͜͠͠͠͠ͅͅͅ,̷̡̧̧̬̫̮̗͔̤͈̳͍͉̣͎̻̤͙͇͇̯̹̮̜͔͕̰̣͍̹̰̯͈̬͙͍̲̼͈̜̳̫̞̭̪͇̜͚̗̪̘͚̼̰̜̼͕̻̹̪̓̈́̎̈́͋͋̂̎͂͒̔̉͂̑̅̔͗͒̓͋͒̅̂̈́̊̉́̒̾̿̀̾͜͜͜͝͝ͅ ̸̗͚̘̇̽̀̈́̐͌̍̏͘͠h̸̡̢̛̛̛͓̫̙̙̗̘͑͊̓̀͐̈́̌́̋͗̽̍̓́̉̈́̄̈́͌̏̊̾̃͂̒̏̀̉̈́̒̆̋̈́̌̄̅̽̉̿̆̎̈́̊̉̓͊͆͐͊̾̔̍͒̓̒̂̚̕̕͝͝ȍ̴̡̧̨̡̡̡̨̢͔̭̜̜̘͕̰͚̲̙͎͎̞͉̱̱̲͖̹͔͈̪̙̭̣̗͓̮̮̱͇̙̺͍̞̗͉̯̺̦̬͚͇̭͇̟̼̪̣͈̥͕̩̻̖̭͉̱̹̺̝̼͇̿̇͐̏͆̀̽͂͂̎̈̂̒̈́͊̑̄̿̿͆̀́̇̊̃̏͑͐̈́̆̃̈̋͆̏̑̉̃́͂̿͋̒͆͒̓̔̆̋̎͒́͑̆̏̿̓͂̕̚̚̕̕̕̕̕͠͝͝͝͝ę̷̛̛̛̛̗̭̬̣̝̗̯̬̯͌̈́͂͂̎̏͒̅̇͌́̍͆̆̏̾̊̀̿̐̆̈́͒̎͛͆́̈́͌̆̀͆͒͛̂̇̓͒̋́͂̿̀͐̄̌͗̊̔́̒͆͐̎ṡ̴͓̖̗̲̻̲̰̟̯͔̳͊͂̑̋̽̒̆̀́͌̍̈̓͛̈́͆͛̐̅͆̉̊̓͗͆̽̇̆̏̔͂͌̀́̃̅͗̓͌͛͛͒̈́̿̓͋͆̏̋̏̔̂̒̈̒̅̅̂͘̚̕̚͘͝͠͝͝~̸̢̨̠̠̻̪͖̘̠̘̮̖̗̦̖̪̫̗͍̳͔͖̹̘̳̖̪̫̟͎̫̯̦̖̩̦̰̥̬̣̤̻̤̠̬̗͐͗̈̄̾̀̍͆͌̋́̐̽̅̍̆̔͋̒̄̄͐̈͊̐͐͑̔̍͗̇̈́̐͆̋̀̒̕̚͘͠͝͝ ☠