⚠️ TW: mentions of murder, gore, funeral, fire, mentions of death ⚠️

Ash's POV

People had gathered in the lobby for our meeting today. They wanted to hear that we'd successfully killed The Anax.

That wasn't what they were gonna get.

I cleared my throat and cracked my knuckles. "Would ANYONE care to tell me why that bomb killed Shelby and not the limp bacon sandwich we were trying to kill?"

The room filled with questioning chatter.

"Construction, get over here now!" I shouted.

They stepped forward, fear and confusion evident in their manner.

"You wanna explain why that bomb was strong enough to kill Shelby but too weak to kill The Anax?" I asked. "One of our decent members die and we don't even get anything in return!"

"I-If I'm not mistaken, E-Emily suggested the design with the... chemicals..." One of them stammered.

"You're trying to pin this on someone in a higher position than you?" I asked sarcastically. "Yeah she suggested it. But as construction, it's YOUR job to research how accurate that is! Emily isn't in construction, you are!"

"W-we're terribly sorry--"

"'Terribly sorry' doesn't bring Shelby back you ignorant crushed peppermint!" I screamed. "You wanna end up like Jason Dean?"

They looked at the ground. "N-No, Golden Trashnesty..."

"That's what I thought," I replied. "So was it the chemical solution that was bad, or was it the chemicals that were fucked up?"

"We think the hydrogen peroxide was old," Someone from construction said.

"What?" I asked.

"H-Hydrogen peroxide is just... water with some more oxygen. If it gets too old, it decomposes and just becomes... water." They explained.

"So how did it kill Shelby?" I asked. "If we were using water in the first place, why did it kill?"

"We're thinking it partially decomposed, so it was strong enough to kill the nearest person, but not... you know..." They trailed off.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "So, it was a weak ass bomb because you didn't bother to get new materials, right?"

"In retrospect, yes--"

"So Shelby's blood is on your hands." I said. "You're responsible for this."

"Wha--"

"You're the reason she died!" I screamed.

Emily cleared her throat. "Ash, you're, uh... your face..."

I felt my face, and at that moment I realized I was crying. Tears were streaming down my face.

"Meeting dismissed," I grumbled, knowing it wasn't good to get upset in front of them.

Seemingly unfazed by anything that just happened, they left and resumed what they were previously doing.

"How could this happen?!?" I whisper-shouted through tears to no one in particular.

"We'll get that asshole another time, Ash." Emily comforted.

"It's not about The Anax!" I shouted. "We lost a valuable member of our cult! Did you see what that badass bitch could do? She snuck into The Anax's place, she went with us to drop the bomb, she offered to hold the damn thing while you and I got the kid!"

Emily shifted uncomfortably, taking Jocelyn by the hand. "I know... I'll organize a funeral."

Briar, completed distracted by GC's dog, hadn't paid attention to most of this. "Am I allowed to be ACAB if I'm an ex-detective?"

Aston's POV

"What's the latest gossip?" Edge asked jokingly.

"Word on the street is that the Trash Cult tried to kill The Anax last night." I replied, stirring my coffee.

"Tried to?" She asked.

"They didn't succeed. Kidnapped a kid and lost a member named Seashell or some mermaid ass name." I explained.

"Ash didn't die, right?!?" I asked in concern.

"Nah, your lil' lover boi is still alive." I replied.

"Shut the hell up," Edge scoffed.

"Am I wrong?!?" I asked. "You're gonna look at me and you're gonna tell me that I'm wrong?!?"

"Not wrong, just a jackass." Edge replied.

"But, you know what this means, right?" I asked.

"No..?" Edge replied.

"You can kill him," I said.

Her expression fell. "Kill... him?"

"As much as I love the no-violence policy in this shithole, we can't apply that to everything." I explained. "We need to kill one guy to bring peace back."

"That was almost deep," She replied. "But if you want the bastard dead so badly, kill him yourself."

"I don't lead a gang." I said. "And, frankly, I don't give a damn. If they kill me, fine. They could kill anyone they wanted and I wouldn't give a single fuck. You, on the other hand, care about too many people."

Edge crossed her arms. "I hate that you're not completely wrong."

"I hate that you won't stab a bitch to save the person you love the most." I retorted.

"Ash can defend herself," Edge said.

"Until she can't," I replied. "You like to think she's the toughest bitch around, but you and I know that's impossible in these conditions. Ash is the greatest force until The Anax takes her--"

"Don't say it--"

"--And kills her." I said, ignoring her. "So either you stop caring about Ash or you kill a man."

"He's not just a man!" Edge shouted.

I flinched at her sudden outburst.

"The hell do you mean by that?" I asked.

Edge looked away. "Nothing, Aston. Nothing at all."

Emily's POV

Sad music played in the background. Everyone had changed into black clothing. It was a depressing sight, even for a cult with bitter members that co-exist amongst each other underground.

Ash stood by the portrait of Shelby. A beautiful person, really. Ash couldn't find a large portion of her body. Just... chunks. Miscellaneous bits and pieces of skin and muscle and bone. And blood, Ash had told me.

"We're here and shit in remembrance of Shelby. Now I've gotten a lot of questions as to why we're holding a funeral for Shelby but not JD. And my response to that is, JD was a useless absolute baboon who deserved nothing short of being punched into the sun."

Mumbles of agreement filled the crowd. Ash continued with the eulogy. It was well-written, sorrow flowed through her words.

"Sorry to inturrupt this tRaGiC eVeNt you assholes-"

The entire crowd turned to the person who had just entered the room.

Aston.

Bitch.

Almost everyone pulled out a weapon. And maybe they weren't aiming at him, but when an entire room pulls out a weapon at the sight of you, that's not exactly a good thing.

"I'll take care of this ass," Briar said, ready to take him out of the room.

"I'm coming with you," I muttered. "Ash, just... go on, I don't know."

GC didn't need to announce she was leaving. If Briar was going somewhere, GC was going to make sure she didn't do something stupid. And if GC was going somewhere, Briar was always going with to make sure something stupid happened.

We walked out of the room, basically dragging Aston out with us.

"What the fuck?!" Aston whisper-shouted. "You guys crash our funeral, it's all fine and dandy, but I come into some pathetic death fest without even a coffin and everyone's got a weapon pointed at me!"

"That's because your stupid cult doesn't have the balls. You guys are pushovers. Ash would kill us if we showed even a hint of being pushovers." Briar replied. "Now, tell me, do you know what it feels like to have a loaded and cocked gun against your head?"

He rolled his eyes. "Do you even wanna know why I'm here?"

"Not really, but we're gonna ask anyways." I said.

"I'm pretty sure Edge is hiding something," Aston replied.

"She's basically the parent of a ton of people and now has to take care of a kid on top of that. No shit she has secrets." I deadpanned.

"But this is different!" Aston persisted. "She's always so open about everything!"

"What lead you to this dumbass conclusion?" GC asked.

"I was talking to her about The Anax and I said you gotta kill a man. And then she said 'he's not just a man'." He explained.

"Why is this significant?" I asked. Briar held her gun, looking at me for approval. I shook my head 'no.'

"The way she said it... I don't know, but something's off?"

"Not just a man, huh?" GC pondered. "Maybe The Anax is trans?"

"Doubt it," I replied.

"Does she... know him? Like on a personal level?" Briar asked.

"He's a grown ass homophobic man, she's a pan nineteen year old. If they know each other on a personal level, it's some creepy bullshit." I replied.

"I never said they know each other." Briar said. "She knows him. Edge could be stalking him."

"The only time she's been out is to see Ash." Aston replied. "Basically impossible."

"Unless... she stalked the guy before all his happened?" GC suggested.

"She would've been a child." Aston defended.

"Briar did some creepy things as a kid. Memorized her enemies' lockers, found their addresses and phone numbers in the directory." GC admitted.

"But we're talking about someone who was president at the time." Aston replied. "A child couldn't stalk a government official for very long without being caught."

We were stumped.

"Maybe we're jumping to conclusions here," I suggested. "All she said was that The Anax isn't just a man. Obviously, he's a man in charge. These theories are getting pretty out there."

"But... you don't know Edge." Aston said. "She said it so... suspiciously."

"So descriptive," GC rolled her eyes.

"But he's got a point," I admitted. "As much as we all ship Trashprince, we don't know what the 'Prince' side of that ship is like."

"She fucked Ash, we all know exactly what she's like." Briar deadpanned.

"Briar!" GC scolded.

"I'm kidding!" Briar replied defensively. "No one fucks on a rooftop. Too cold-"

"Shut. Up." GC said through gritted teeth. "Also are you speaking from experience?"

Briar laughed. "Yeah speaking from an experience with yOUR MOM-"

"My mother has higher standards than you." GC scoffed.

"Your mother was pretty fucking high when she called me daddy-"

"Enough!" I said. "There's a funeral going on right now. No one needs to know who fucked who."

Aston raised an eyebrow. "I kinda do-"

"You're the reason the acronym STFU exists." I cut him off. "Here's the plan. Dumbass author knows this chapter is bad but she really wanted to get something out because she's been dead as shit for longer than socially acceptable. Next chapter, you're gonna introduce us to Edge. We sit down, have a PROPER conversation, meet her. Get to know her. Then we find what she's hiding. If this secret is about The Asshole, we can use it against him."

"Chapter..?" Aston asked.

"It's an inside joke," Briar covered.

"Can we get back to the funeral?" GC asked. "You're disrespecting the person who died to try and kill The Anax."

"Right, I'll go." Aston said. "You guys are probably gonna shoot me anyways."

"What make you think that?" Briar asked, pulling her gun out.

"Stay," I insisted. "Pay your respects."

"Huh?" Aston asked. I knew he wanted to get out. But there was a dead person involved. I wanted to make him feel as uncomfortable as possible.

"It's a tradition here." Briar began, bringing us back into the funeral room. "It's a little myth that when good people die, they meet the gods, who basically decide fate of our world. And they're allowed to take wishes up to them before she goes to the next life."

"So when a valuable member of the cult dies, we light a candle of their favorite color, mint green in Shelby's case, and we write on pieces of paper the wishes we want to come true. Then we burn the papers with the candle to get the intention up there." She explained.

I couldn't decide if it was a sad or inspiring thing. A tall, mint green candle in the middle of a large metal plate thingy. Tons of pieces of paper folded, full of wishes. Most of them were probably for The Anax to die.

"You guys... actually believe this?" Aston asked.

"Some do. Some don't. We still follow through though. It's tradition." Briar replied.

"No offense but that's kinda stupid." Aston muttered.

"No offense but fuck off." Briar replied. "You're participating."

Aston rolled his eyes. "Fine."

He jotted something on the paper before placing it on the tray. I didn't mean to, but I read what he wrote on his paper.

ℐ 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒜𝓈𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℰ𝒹𝓰ℯ 𝓉ℴ 𝒷ℯ 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎. ℰ𝓋ℯ𝓃  𝒾𝒻  𝒾𝓉 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝓉ℴ 𝓁ℯ𝓉 ℰ𝒹𝓰ℯ 𝓰ℴ

What..?

That doesn't even sound like Aston.

I'd expected some type of selfish wish, honestly. Maybe a boyfriend or the death of The Anax. But this? What the hell? Did someone knock him over the head?

He looked at me, then back at the paper he'd placed, as if he knew exactly what I saw. Aston broke eye contact.

"Don't tell them," He said. "I mean, I know this is all sentimental bullshit, but still."

"What, you don't want Edge to know you care about her?" I asked.

"...Fuck off..." Aston mumbled.

Ash picked up each paper, one by one, burning each and every one of them.

I wonder if Ash peeks at the wishes too.

~

Hi! That was a weird chapter!

Sorry that updates are kinda wonky and inconsistent at the moment, shit happened.

Anygays

If you're in the discord, the thing I was talking about didn't happen this chapter but there were some hints at it kinda?

Uhh there was something else i wanted to say but ya bitch forgot

So uh have a nice day and adios amigos!

𝘏𝘪 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴!

𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦?

𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘪𝘵 !

𝘚𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘣𝘺.

𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦?

𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵, 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩.

𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦... 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭.

𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯... 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦.

𝘰𝘳, 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘥.

𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦.

𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦... 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬, 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺.

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭. 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦... 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘦.

𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘎𝘰𝘥-𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦... 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.

𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩... 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸.

𝘪 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦.

𝘪 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥.

𝗦𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆? 𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂?

𝘰𝘩, 𝘩𝘦𝘺. 𝘪''𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴.

𝗖𝗼𝗼𝗹! 𝗖𝗮𝗻 𝗜-

ψ Ḣ̶̨̳͎̹̪̬͉͖̱͉͙͚̓̉͐̔̆͊͋́̿̌͐̐̄̾͋̈́̓́̎̇̚̚͠ȩ̴̢̮͉̻̦͕̝̩̘̠̖̠͚̻̝͓̫̇̋̍͂́̑̽̽̓́͗̑͑̄̉͌̎͝ÿ̵̢̡͍͖͍̰̟̟͙̙͉̟̳͕̠̞̯̪̯̳̤̳̤̠̽͗̒̈́̀̈́̏̌̾̈́̀̿̈́̽̐͑̀̈́̄͆̉͠͝ͅͅ!̵̨̧̨̨̡̳̺̺͇̯͔̦͇̬̰̺̹͚͔̗͔͖̗̭͓͓̠͕̾͒͒̇̋̀͂̐̓̌̀̃̈̍̌̂͐̎̾̒̃͊͐͌͒̓͆̕̕̕͘͝͝ ̴̛̛͔̪̺̺̳̥̹͉͕̥̖̩̤̲̪̟̱͋̾̾̓͐͐̾͛͗̅̉͑̄̋̏̂̒̍̒̄͋̓͐̈́̀̒̓̔̀̍̾̍͘͘W̶̨̧̛̠̻̙̮̰̭̭͓̗̹̱̰̞͇͚̜̮̤̰̫̪͍̼̞̼̙̰̜̥̰̦̺̗̳͎̲͕͋̾͋̔̾͗͐͊̈́̔̉͐̊̚̚͜͜͜h̸̛͚͙̱̗̰̖̗̪̻̥̙̱̜̪͓͚̱͔̻͙͖̟̱̠̹͕̟̟̼̏̎̏̅̊̒̄̾̉͑́̄͋̾͌̓͌͗̀̐̆̎̂̈́̉̈́͛̎͘͘̚͝͝ͅä̵̭́͆̽̔̊̒̀̇̈́̉̈́́͋̓́̎̑̍͂̔̅̓̒̓̔̆̐̕̕̚͠t̶̛̙̦̣̙͕͔̮̺̺̱̺̳͕̫̗̰͌͐̉̈̒̂͐͌͑̐̈̈́̀̓͌͒̇̿̈̚͝͠ ̷̧̢̢̨̡̧̱̤͈͇̲̰͇̮͚̯̣̟̲͚̬̳̫͕̱͗͐͌̔̽̎́̒̅͊̀̍̍̇́̈̒̄̔̐̃̏͐̏̈́̌̅͒͋͌̾̏͐͗̀̊̑̋̓̊̏̔̊̂̓͗͝͝͝͝͠t̵͇̗̼́̆̄̇̈́͛̑̋͒́͑̓͂̕h̷̨̡̛͈̲̰͈͇̳̬̪̰͕͚̺̝͉̘̣͉̹̪͔͖͔͛̔̋̇̔̌͒̀̐̏̒̓́̂͌̏̈́̎̍̑̐̉́͘̕͜͜͝͝͝͝ͅȩ̵̡͙̬̣͖̺͔̙̪̙̺̤̖̼̰̫͚͚͎̗͉̺̱̬̮͔͎̔͗͂͒͛͂̀͐͑̑̊͘̕͜͜͜ ̵̡̢̧̛͕̘̝͇̹̱͙͇̼̠̦͙͙̫̯͓̱̟̼̯̜̮̱̗̠̮̹̹̮̀̿̇̉̉̈̏̄͗̑̈́̾͂̈̈́͒̋̍͗̾͘͜͜͠ͅf̴̨̡̡̢̼̜̫̩͍͙̱̪̻̭̝̥̞̳̻̞͔̯͈͍͚̩̗̠͍͕̦͇͎̫̟̱̺͎̩̟̠̱̤̫̘̺̳̪͎͎͇̜̖̟͌̊̀̀̾̀̆̍͌̌̈͒͒͛̒͛̅̅̈́́͜͝͝ͅͅu̴̧̟͍̞̯̖͓̅̅͐̂̌̌͊́̒̓̓͂́̈́̓͂͐͌̈́̈̾͆̔̑̌̓̑̑̕͘͘̚̚͘͜͠͝͝͝c̷̨̨̛̘̰͕͈̱̘̦̖͔͎̱͙̫̰͉̱͇̳̼̺̳̞̝͎̤̦̽̂̊̒́̒̏͋̎̉̀̔̈́̉͛͊͑̅̂͗̃̏̈̎̌͌͛̐̓̃͌̆̎̿̏̈̐͂̎͊͂͌͘̕͘̚͘͘͝͠͝͠͝k̸̨̢̨̡̛̛̮̲̺̥̰̞̮͍̙̞͎̬͖̩͙̭͙̥̤̥̼̪̠͈͕͙̳̜̩̱̺̱̗̗͖͊̆̿̂̋̓̊͂̄̌̈͒̀͑̒͛̀̾́͊̋͑̑͐̓̽̑̈́̉̓̈͒͛̎́̀̆̅̓̑̎̀̂̅̚͘͜͠͝͠͝ͅ?̷̧̬͈͕̣̪̣̭̠͓͕͓͓͎̣̼̳̣̀̿̎̒͐̊̀̆͜͜͝͝ͅ!̶̨̢̢̧̪̱̰͖̱̩̦̜̮͓̜̯̬̻͍̼͓͇̫̝̳͇̳̝͖͙̏͐̒͗̌͋͊̇̓͑̀̍̀̀̀͛̏̔̓͗͒́̋̂͛̂́̎̓̌̂̇̀̄̏̌̕͘̕̚̕͝͝͝ͅ?̵̨̢̱͍͓͙̭͈͎̺̜͚͈͉̥̙̳͉̣͇̟̠͚̳̜̼̭̈́̈́ͅ ⛥

𝘶𝘩, 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦

ψ ψ̸̛͙̿́͗͗̓̐͌̔́̍̌̏͊̑̉̉̿͌̈́̔̾̎̂̽́̈̈͆́̅̚̕̚̚͝͠͝ ̴̢̨̛͕̫̗̥̤̤̹̭̲̖̮̰̮̲̬̫̹̤̼͔̭̞̖͉̺̰̮̝̱̥̻͂͌̚͘͜͜ͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̡̡̩̰̱̰͔̺̙̺̘͓͓͉̲̘̞̝͖̹͈̃̏͊̈́̊͂͌̉͐̃̑̈͐̈́̈́́̽́̆̒͛́̉́̋̃̌̂̀͐̆̀̿̀̓̿͋̈́̿̊̊̄̇̊̌͑̍̎̔̂̎̑̿͋̓̌̊͂̆͌̾̽͊̐͆͛̕͘͘̕̕̕̕̕͜͝͠͝͝͝ͅN̵̨̨̢̻̯̮͚͉̱͉̤̞͎̼̯͉͔̯̝̘͇̟̜̯̪͉̬̟̖͎̻̫͚̜̤͉̗̺̪̲̜̥̤̰͎̪̻͕̮̼̙̫͇̖̼͛̽̐͒̾̔̌̄̑̊͊̋͜͜͜͜͝͠͝ǫ̵̡̡̥̱͇̱͈̣͉͖͈̙͙̩̬̘̦͚̞̯͕̩͇͔̼̻̙̫͔́̒́͋̂̊̏͑͒͊̀̀!̶̛̙̯͉͔̯͚͇͕͇̗̝̠͓̠̪̯̙̺̫̙͇͖̩̲̳̜̣̖͛̊͆̒̽̂͂̅̆̆̐̿̈́̅̍̀̍̍̈̂̈̂̈́̋͑̆̓̇͋͒̔̔̎́̿͛̅̍̇͆́͌̏̕̕͘̚̕̕͘͘ͅ ̶̡̢̢̡̧̛̛̘̟̫̞̝̻̘̱̗̦͈̳̰̘̣̹͉͚̱̹̗̫̘̤͕̓͑̈́̈́͆̊̄͆͒́͛͋̓̆͋͊̋̇͐̊͊̈́̎͌̔̎̆̌̈́̐̉͗͛̒́͑̌̈́̏̋̏̈́͂̽̔̎͘͘͘͘͜͝͠͝͠͠͝͝͝T̶̡̡̛̺̳̼̭͕̠͉͎͎̪̝̒̿͐́̋̿͒͗̃̈́̏̈́̾̈́̑̉͌͌͂͋̀̅̅̓̌̿͗̑̇̾͛͋̌͛͊́̽̈̇̓͒̏͆͂̌͋͊̊̉̏̊͗̅̎͗̅̆͂̎̄̀̇̌͘̕̕͠͠͝h̶̡̨̧̡̨̨̡̛̛̯͎̝̯̱̱̣̭̦̬̮̭̦̻͚̰̘̬̥̠̥̮̙̦̥̠̦͙̜̬̞͕̠̱̣̺̥̺̦͍̮̬́͊̐̽͆͛͆͑̐̈́̈́̀͆̑̈̈́̾̃̇̃̉́̕̕͝ͅa̵̧̨̛̛̬͕̲̥͈̼̲̟͙̼̲̰͙̯͈̬̰̳̞̘̝͇̖͕͖̱͗́̎̆͐̏̿̈̑͛̄͆̈̈̋̓̏̎̒̔̊͋̎́̈́̈͛͜͜͜͝͝͝͝ͅţ̸̢̢̧̨̡̡̨̨̛̺̜̹̟͚͕̩̝̥̝̺̱̙̞̞͇̥̼͙̳̫̝͍̹̘̣̙̳͙̝͇̫͚̫̖̬̥̜͓͕̱͔͉̗̼̹͙̹̻͎̹̹̙̺̘̺̈̆̇̎̌̓̓̇́̀̏̏̅̆̿͌̿̿͌͑̀͌̅̐͛̂̑̆̀̄̾͆̇͆̓̓̀̑̎̈́͆̀̀̀͗̔̊̿͐̌̎͌́͊͑̏͒̑͋̃̅̉̇̓͘̚̕͜͜͜͜͜͝͠'̴̧̧̨̩̠̬͈͎̲̣̜͎͖̳͖̪̥̟̦͚̹͖̰̟̪͖̥̯̮̣͈̝̞͔̥̗̺͇̼͚̞̠̩͋̈́̋̌͆͊͒͂̑͆̉͌̅̒̀̏̑͐̈͛̔̑͂̉̋̍̈͒̋̄̚̚͜͜ş̵̧̜͉̩̠̜̩̰͔̤͓̦̜̤̤̏͐̂͑̉͑̿̈́̈́̎͒͠͝͠͝ ̴̡̢̢̨̢̮͔̗̹̯͇̱̟͕͚̥̯̙͉̦̩̟̠͉͕̟͇̜̟̺̬̦͓̮̪͖̰̩̩̮͖̑͋̍̇͐̃̓̋̈́̎̇̄͌̕m̸̢̨͇͕̤̰̝̩̜͓͚̹̰̙̯̜͓̜̠̝̙͂͂̀̓͛̽̔̃̔̂́̔̄͌̇̐̄͑̀͑͑̈́̕̕͠ỳ̷̢̧̰͉͍̟̖͍̮̹͍͇͔̹̯͙̗̰̖̗͕͕͈̩̮̪̬͔̩̖̲̫̣̥̪̯͙͕̮̹͔̝͍͎̳̼̰̟̖̜̳͙͍̙̬͎̜̲̖͚̟̲͙̟̲̟̟́͜͜͜ͅ ̸̢̢̧̡̡̧̨̧̧̨̛͈̱͈̞̯͕͉̪̞̙̬͎̳͎͙͉̦͖̝͔̰͔͙̰̖̘͕̰͔͕̮̱͚̫̼͇̱̺̬͕͔̙̦̤̭̰͚̻̟̘̝͚̪͕̫̰͚̤͍̰͚͚͊͛̓̿̈̌̆̊̐̆̅̏̃̋̒̿̈́̾̑̅̿̍̐̾̅̆̈̔̓̽̔͊̆̈́͌͘̕͘͜͠ͅͅͅț̵̡̡̡͉̰̝̠͕͍̱͖̥̺̲̙̠͈͚̫̣̘̥̭͈͎͎̳̖̫̝̜͔̬̰̮̦̬͖̰͕̖̳̠̱̟̘̯̻̜̰͈͓̰͕̫̺̤̠̭̭͍̫̅͐̂͗̚̚͜ͅh̴̢̨̢̨̛̛̻̮̪̭͔̝̘̮̪̺̜̜͕̦̬̹̙̰̺̟̖͍̖͕͎̦͖̜̰͎͎͔̣̦͔̻̖̣̭̼̲͚̦̣͎̝͓̠͍̰̦̹̀̈̎̒̉̑̎̒͐͊̎͋̎̏̔̾̊̋̀̀́́͑̓̔́͐̈̀͋͂́̽̉̃̓̍̆͑͂̕͘̕͝͝ͅͅͅî̶͙̰̣̘̺́̅̀̑̋̄̀̀̐̑̋̃̈́̍͒̃͒͛̿͒̐͌̒̕͝͝ņ̷̨̧̜̤̹̮̙͈̩̳̞͇̮̙͈͉̼̦͇͔̒͒̽̓̃͋́̈̈͑̋͆͗́̓̊͒̔̆̀̅͐̓͂͒̆͌̏͌̊͗̇́̔̆̌̆͋̀̇̓́̇̾̋̃̃͛̇̀̾̔̍͂̕̚̕̚̚̕̕͜͝͠͝͝͠͠ġ̷̡̢̡̧̛͇͎̰̖̣̘̰͚̻͖̳̖̝̯͔̩̭̙̜̘̟͎̫͓̬̼̦̪͕͎̞͇͉̯͕̃̏̐̃͑͒͒͋̾̏͑̈̌̽͂̕͜ͅ!̷̡͕͎͖̱̹̗͍͓̮̹̭͙̟͎̹̙̤̰̖̈́̑̓̏͋͛̆̅̎̇̐̍͑̽̋̔̓̋̄͐͆̾̄̍̑͘͘͝͠͝͝ͅͅ ̷̧̡̛̛̟̺̘̟͚͔̩̹̮͎̼̦̞̺̹͉̥͉̹̝̼͍̣̝̝̜̪̱̜̺͓͖̬͖̘̯͚̹͓̹̞̝͙̮̥̉̑͊̀͊̎̎̉͛͗̑̓̄̀̀̈́̈́̓͑̄̒̐͐̒̚͘͜͜͝ͅ

𝗪𝗲'𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗶𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗻'𝘁 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝘂𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗼

𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵

ψ Ḁ̵̢̡̢̢̬̪͍͓̦̖̩͔̗̫͓̗̱̥̪̠͙̪̣͕͍̻͈͍͍̣̋̐̈́̋̉̉̽̓̃̓͒̅̉̓̈́͋̂̄̈́͐̊͌̅̚͜͜͜͜͝ͅh̷̨̛̥̠̙̦̰̭̯̦̪̭̱͕͍̋͂̈́͐͜ͅ,̶̛͕̪̂̓͌͐̔̍̾̐̏̑̆̍̒͒̓̏̏̍̒̔̋̎̄̅̋̂̎͊̉̀́̈́̌͐̆̑͛̌̎̓͛̑͗̀́̎̅͆̊̈́͗̕̚̕͝ ̴̢̡̧̨̛̖̻̦̙̠̟̥̥̯̺̳̲̭͖͉̗̤̯͇͔̘̱̭̝͕͙̰̭̙͎̪̜̩̻͇͖̗̜͖͕̅̂͒̑̏̓̄͆̈̽͂̑́̆̌̾̈̆̄͌̃͂̀̍̽͊̌̈́̄̆̎̌͊͊̍͘̕͜͜͝͝͝ś̸̡̧̧̧̢̨̛̥͎̳̘̪̺̥̹̭̻̝̜͕̩͎͓̖̞̣̠̲͈̠̘̺͕̍̂́̽̓̈̊̇̈̀́͌͒̔̚͜͠ͅų̴̨̧̛͚͍̪̥͈͎̩̲̘̱̬̰̖͇̗̰̙̙͕̘̳͚̫̤̝̖̭̫̲̯̯̆̊̏̾̈́͑̂̈́̈̈́̈͐̃͌͗͐͗̈́̈̌̒͊̓̚͜͝͝͝͝ċ̵̡̡͕̺̫̠͚̺̹̟̯̯̝̭̲̱͍͙̘͎̯̳͇̜̳̩̜͎̣̹͍̜͉͙͇̘̪̙̭͇̥̆̒̒̋́͆̅͌̄͊̉̏̈́̇͒̐̑̆͑̍̚̚͝͝͝͝͝ͅh̵̡̨̧͔̜̹̣͚̘͓̱͉̻͙͚̘͈̝̦͓̰̲̥̖̥̹̹̬͇̣̘̝͇͙̠̜̪̙̖̹̜͙͇͖̉̑̊́͒̍̉̀̔̚͠͝ͅ ̷̡̢̡̡̛̥͍̺̯̙̦̗̫̙͕̟̱̬͚̬̱̭̞̺̟̫́̾̃͒͊̎̊̎͌̔͋̆́̆̅̑͋̀́̓̆̀͑̔͛̔̔́̇̍̏͋̈́̚͘̕͠͝͠͠ͅa̵̢̧̧̡̢̞͖̰̱͙̱̫̥͓̼͍̥̳̝͔͖͎̤͍̫͕̜̺͍̣͇͙̺̭̪͍͉̰̩̞͉̱̳͓̰͎̬̙̣̦̪͆͂̍̑̊̀̓̈̊̈́̂̀͘͜͜͝͠ ̶̛͉̫͚̫̠̝̇̂͂̌̑̇̀s̴̡̱̘̯͚̳̖̭͇͚̩̰͈̲̗͓͕̻̬̮̿̆̂̋͋͐̈́̋̔̂̿̈́̂̕ḫ̶̨̡̡̧̧̧̨͍̰͔͇̜̠̱̗͎͔̮̤̩̲̜̣̟̈́̈̿̄̈́̈́̏̎͗̂̊̈͋͋͌͘͠a̵̢̡̡̡̨̡̹̙̜̞͖̭̲͎̞̣̥͓̦̩̦̣̗̱̰̻͇̯̮̱̰̞̪̞̬̜͈͈̗̮̯͎̳͔̪̾͑̕m̷̛̛̛̞͑͋͗̎̑́̄̍̋͌̽̊͋͌̏̔̀̒̈̀̌̍͌͋̃̆͛͑̚͘͜͝͝͝͝e̵̡̨̧̨̛͔̦̩̳͎̖̯̜̩͚͓̝̰̠͔̖̭͍̳̪̟̳̟̠̖̺̖̗̻̭̠̲͕͍̫͔̫̞͚̙̼̙̤͇̅͊̋̔̔̂͗͛͜͜͜͜͜͝͝.̴̡̡̘͉̟̰̩͚̼͇̱͍̯͕̻͖͉̼̞͍̬͎̹̪̫̖̙̜̹̦̞̱̩͎̯̳̥̻̙̳̝̯͔͇̮̱̖̖̥̦̰̠̞͔̇̾̅͑̈͐̌̏͑̚̚̚͝͝ͅͅͅ ̵̫̦̮̅̂͌͋̍̊̂̐́̎̑̉̔̈͐̾̀͌̆̓̇̽̇̆̈́͊͋̑̇̀̽́̓͒̃̓͌́̔̒̿̚͝͠͝Ţ̵͙͙̼̦̘̭̪̦̉̎̏̂̀͆̍͘̚ǫ̶̧̨̧̗̩̟͖̲͈̯̰͉͇̬̯̱̗̯͚̩̬̬̺͓̤̜̭͖̳̯̪̬̳͔̦̥̲̟̅̔̃̉̏̀͒͌̍̒̉͘͘̚͜ͅḍ̴̡̢̡̢̘͖͚̝̱̯̲̻̩̜̲͖̱͕̜͉̜̹̼̦̤̖̬̰̺̻̉̅̃̽̓͆̑̈͑̋͌̾͐̄̀͋͛͐̊́́͗̈́̔̽̒͛̀̔́̀̾̌͆̆̊̕͠͠͝͝ą̴̢̧̨̥͖̖͎̤̠̖̞͇̼̭͉͍̪͚̭͇͕̪͎͇̖͎̙̰̩͚͙̝̠̩̠̪͓̝̙͕̬͔̙̙̠̔̈̅̋͂̉̈̀̓͛̓̅̈́̌̒͐͒͛̈́̑͐́̆̍̓̚̚͝ỵ̴̨̧̦̼̪͕̝͇͚̘̭̖͍͍̯̹̼͍̜̞̣͈͖̙̠͕͉̂̊͗́̈̅͑̊̾́͐̈́̄͋̂̕̕͘͜͠͠͠͠ͅ ̶̢̡̧̹̟͉̟͓͙̩̞̙͖̯̦͉͍̻̹͚͉̈́̎̒̊͛͆w̴̛̛̞̩͓̝̠͕̟̝̠͈̤̆͐̉̊̿͐̉̉̑͂̅͛̂͗̉͗͂͆̈͌̏̄̀͌͆̒͂̓͊̏̈͂̈̓̓̍͗̈́́̇͛̓̀͘̚͘̕͘͠͝ͅa̵̧̧̭̖̗͎͔̭̻͙̲̬̦̗̫̰̗̫̻̹͚̻͍̯̤̲̱̱̯̰̤̠̱͆̇͛̅̄͛̓͑̊̍͊͊͋̋̈̓͑̓̒̀̒̈̇́̽͑̀́̎̍̚̚͜͝͝͠ŝ̶̡̖̜͚̦̼̳̱̪͕̜̳̲̠͋͒̑͜ ̵̧̡̨̡̢̡̨̛̖̯̘͈͔̦͙̥͉̫̙̩̺̞̙͖͈̱̟͙̼̥̫̭̗͇̮̻̞͕̟̫̭͕̲̜͕̝̖̩̲̹̬̯̹͍̔̄̽͊̇̈͑̅͛̇̌̊̊̒̈́͛̐̏̌̿̚͜͝ͅg̵̢̨̢̘̰͙͚͚̲̬̳̥̝͖̺̲̪͈̼̣̤̻͎̰̜̖͓͓͕̳͚̺̣̗̮̫͔̹̻͗́͗̀͆̈́͂̄̂͆̀͒̋͌̈́̔̿̐̓́͋̎̂̏̈̽̋͠ͅͅǫ̷̧̞͉̲̺͚̞̤̞̲̳̹̩̣̣̖̙̫̮͖̪͔̻̝͙̠̻̜̝̰̬̀̋̊͒̉̈́̂̉̐͗͋͂̈́̈́̈́̊̏̽̾̏̐̏́͊̄͌̉̾͛̀̈́̉́͛̐̓̓̌̒̽̌̔̇̈̓̈̉̅̈́̕͘͘͜͝͝͠͝ì̸̡̡̨̧̢̨̛͇͈̰̫̞̱̣̦͍̺̫̺͍͖̰̞̗̝͉̥̣̹̮̹̖̮̲̤͉̪̳̝̹͈͇̤̻̠͇̗̗̰͍̬͇͔̟̓͊̍̈́͋̒̈́̌͊̀̽̎̐̀͆̄̀́͛͋̿͋̎́͂̒̃̚͘̚͜͜͝͠͝͠͝n̸̡̧̨̧̛̟͙̹̥͍̲̖̫̣̙̟̭͍̩͎͓̮͍̯̞̲̤̯̙͕̘͖̣͕̙̼̳̗̮̰͖͉̯͈̣̳̭̫̳̙̱̲̑̇̌̃̍̏͑̈́̏͌͑̓̄̌͌͌̂̌́͆́̄̅͘͘͜͜͝͠͝g̸̢̛̛̛̛̻͉̙̲̹̰̗̤͍̻̰̭̺̤̺̱͎̖̻̫̺̩̠̘̯̜̺̙̳͉̱̫͖̐̔̈̋̈́͋͌̎̇̑̑̋̽́͊͛̽̓̒͛͂̍͌̒̾́͒̄̂̔̾͋̊̚̕͜͜͠͝͠ͅͅ ̸̧̢̨̡̛̰̣̰̘̖̣̜̤̠̥̖͇̪̖̖̪̥̥͓̬̠͖͈̻̻͈̣̤̟͔̻̗̫͚̟͍̼̰̻͓̣̭̘̘̏͒́̓̈͊̊̑͋̽̑͐̔̈̓͆̄̇̓͛̋͒͂͛̒̃̂͛̄̿͂͜͝ͅt̵̨̡̛̫̤̝̗̲̲͔͚̣̆̋̀̌̇̈́̽̓̍̇̈́̔̀̒̋̌͐̋̏̆̇̂̑͊̒̚̚͝͝͝͠ͅo̴̡̨̡͙͍͎̱̦̼̗̟̙̦̮͇̪̯͖͎̥̣͇̰̲̠͔̰̤͍̞͔̦͖͔̻̘͕̠͖̪̣̫̫͗̋̑̎̉́̓̉̄̊̾́͐̑̃̊̃̎̋͛̂̚͜͜͝͝͝ ̵̧̢̧̛̯̪̻̮̰̱̤͖̭͖͚̬͓͍̮̜̥̩̼̭̳̻̼̮̈͌̍̏͂̾̿̍̊̍̿̃̈́̓̇͐̒̃͗̏͑̓̌́̕̕̚͝͠͝ͅͅb̴̧̡̧̡̡̛͔̗̞͚͈̯͕̣͈͙̹̘̟̥͔̻͕͈̝̻͚͎̱͍̣̤͙̘͎̪͍̳̹͕̦͍͇̻͉̯͖̙͖͈͖̲̫̤̙͑̊̒̒͑̇̑̔̊̈̎̈́̽̀͐̇͌̽͋͌̾́̇̈̃̎͗͒̎̾͂̽͝͠ḙ̴̢̨̢̛̛̱͕̖͖̩̪̥̘͖̪̙̬͕̟̣̤͓̞̝̰͉̤̘̭̫̖̬̹̹̝̫͎̭͈̙͇̫̩̱͐̀̈́͑̋̅̐́̌̊́̅̆̆̃͘͜͜͜͝ ̶͕͙̯͚̩̤̙͙͖̦͈͍͉̻̰̝͙̤̱͙̲̥̬͇̓͜͜ͅͅm̴̹͇͙̬̒̍͒̓̓̉̀̏̀͒̃̏̎̈͛͘͘͜͠y̸̨̧̧̢͖̰̟̣̮̭̼͙̫̖̻͓̙͉̺͈͙̘̤͇̜̺͈͇̦̜͔̱̤̭̜̗͇͇͉̰̙͗̆̇̄̾̈́͐̓̂̌͑̑̓̀̌̅̐̊̓͋́̿̆̃̋̒̏͛̏͑̊̈́͌́̎̊̆͊͘͜͠͝ͅ ̸̨̧̛͙̩̮̙͇͙͖̘̤̪͔͎̣͔̠͍̥̗̪̲̥̿̈̍̓̎̈́̊͑̎̑́͊̒̉͌̒̈́̽̐́̽̿͒̏̌̇̌̀̈́̅͋͐͂̎͌̐̈́́̐̓͒͂̓̃̓̓̐͐͘̚̕͠͝͝͝ͅn̶̨̤͂͌́̀̀́͊̈́̄́͂͊̑̀̾̅̋͆́̐̈́͗̃̂͘͝͝ä̴̢̢̛̬̥̩̗͎̙̙̗̤̗̜̳̳̰͈͈́̆́̂͗̊̐̇͂̄̆̔͊̏̓̆͋̊̓̈́̏͛́͛̃̀̓̈́̾̀͑̌̓̔̊̌͛́̏̇͐͑̅́̌̐̾̚͘̚̚̕͜͜͝͝m̵̢̗̾̾̄͌̄̈́̓̍̍͊͑̐̈̾̐͐̈́̑̍̌̓̀̑̐͒̈́̿̑̉͂̋͑̽͊̒͆̈́͗͒͗̏̍͋̂͗̅̚͘͝͝e̶̡̮̗̟̭̪͈͇̺͓̱͆̀̏͐̊̄̆̑̑͂̽͂͂͒͊̎͆́̑͋͑̂͛͐̚͠͝͠͠ͅ ̷̨̢̢̢̛̪͎̯̩̙̗̪̗͙̲̹̺̥̣͕̗̩̲̤̺̞̠͎̩̮̦͇̪͎̲̘͎̙̺̮͓̪̼̙̞̦̞͖͛͌̿̍̈͂͛͛̔̾̃̂͆̿́̎́̓͊͒͋̎͛̆̓̌̓̅̀͗̏̊̑̚̚̕͘͜͝͝r̸̨̨̖̦̰̤̤͍̱̗̯̣͚͖̝̰̼̬̤̮̖͍̠̬͚̲̭̳̹͍͙̈́̔͐́́͋̊̔̈́͑̇̒̿̈́͗̌͆͒͑̎͑̊̂̉̐̄̈́̋̀̄̈̐̊̽̊́́̌̌̿̈́͒̓͘͘̕͠͝ͅȩ̴̨̧̢̡̖̩̲̣͖͙̲̯̦̗̱͙̪̙̱̫͇̙̪̘̼͙̖̣̦͍̼͚̰̠̯̜̮̟̖͑͛́̄͐͗̉̑́̈̄̃̈̌͋͋̅̈́̈̑̿̊́̂̏̊̅̽̔͘̕͘̕͜͠͝͝ͅͅv̷̧̢̧̡̦͕͖̪̟̩̱͇̟͓͚͓͚̯̺̗̺̫̝̼̙̦̊͆͂́́́͐̿͂͒͒͝͝ȩ̶̧̨͉̼͍̹̼͖͖͇̪̩̗̝͎̘̺̤̦̞̯͕̥͉̬̗̝͙̻̮̳̭̯̜͉͚͊̇́̓͛̋̉͋͊͑͂̄̉̂̈́͆̇̀̆̎͑̌́̊͋̂̅̈́̒͂͌̊̏̒̆̿̈̋͆̓̇̋̈́̊̋͂͗̈̈͊̚̚͘̚͜͜͠͝͝a̵̧̨̡̡̧̛̗̟͓̦̟̹̳̫̖̟͈̱̟̝̻̬̤͓̹̦̬͇̳̯̥͓͎̲̠̝͔̣̮̺̮͖̹̗͈̞̼̼̩̤̤̐̀͊̐͐̋͆̈́̐̂̐́̾̆͊̾̀̀͑͛͊͐̇̊̂̏̍͗͜͜͝͝͠ͅl̶̨̢̡̢̢̡͚̥͔̞̰̼̪͚͕̺̻̯̟̪̘̣̠͐́̏̈́̆͐͋̽̓̀̍̀́̐̽̀͜͜.̸̧̡̢͔͔̹̘̰̪̮̼̺̘̺̠̠̯̫̜͙͔̖̮̙̺̳͙̝̗̆̆̽̀͜ͅ ψ

𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤. 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦.

⛧ F̷̨̧̢̢̢̛̝̦͙͙̖͓̯̞̺̳̞͕̩̞͕͓̯̯̯̺̯͉͎̺̤͉̼̘͕͖̲͈̥̼̘̰͙̿̀̊̿͌̿̉͋̀͐̓̑͒͒̈́͑͐̎̅̈͂̑̋͒̍͑̊̋̊̕͠͝͝ͅu̷̢̡̠̹̪̹͎̟͉͇͈͎̙̰̻̭̤͚͚̱͖͎͇͚͍͈͓̤͉̻̦͎̤̬͍̞̗̠͖̩̠͗̓́̾̒̿̽̒̚̕͜͠ͅc̴̢̧̨̧̢̨̛͉̲͚̘̭̻̼͙̞̜̗̝̯̲͉̩͈̮͇̘̤̬̝̩̺͔̙͎͉̞̲͍̜͚̈̊̉͊̅̔́̂͒̐̈̏̏̒͊̈́̆̍͋̔̿̓̌̌͆͐͛͐̊̅͛̀̆͜͠͝͝͝͝͠k̸̢̧̢̨̢͖͍̘̺̣͇͍̯̳̞͚̼̗̬̼̭̭͈̪̦͚̦̱̞̲̘̒͑̍̓̾̓͗́̽̀͗͛͋͆̏̋̾̃̈́̽͘͜͜͝ ̵̢̨̡̢̛͔̹̗̖̠̱̖͚̦̯̼̝͇̩͕̲̠̬̜̺͎͉̗̠͇̺͔̤̟͎̉͂̃̅̃̆̄̔̓̈́̚͠͝ͅy̴̧̨̬̗̫̻̯͎̩͇͔̺̩͖̱̺̬̗͎̣̻̦̥̥̪̲̭̤̗̯͖̠̞̼̻͍̼̻̼̮͌͒̾́̌͝ō̵̢̨̼̫̤̞̫̬͖̼̤̻̠̞̙͙͔̘̭̘̭̂̌͒̿͊͛̀̓͂̌̃̃̈́͆͌̀̆̄̏̉̍̅̏̚͝͝͝u̵̢̢̢̨̧̨̺̣̖̹͉̗̣̤̹͔͓̼̭̠̪̹̗͍̩̯͇̖͖͍̺̮̰̣̜̝͈̿̂̽̂̔̓͗͛̈́̊͗̋̀̉̽̓̔̌̈́̅͂̆̀̀̂̽͝͝͠͝!̷̧̫̙̩͍̎̀̆̌͆̍̀̈̀͆͊̈́̉̃̄̔̀͌̉̃̈́͊̏̌͐̏̊͋̌̇̎̆́͛̀͊͑̎͂̈́̓̅̍̏͋̐̚͘͝͝͝͝ͅ ̷̡̧̧̢͔̜͕͇̤̟̣̤̱̬̠̫̬̝͈͉̲͕̬̼͎̬̠̹̣̙̤̩̥̤̼̖̙̠̻̹͖̮̮͉̺̊́͐̈̑͛͌̓̆̾̀̾̀͑̑̈́̈́͐̿̄͜͠͝͝ͅG̴̨̡̨̧̢̫͍̙͓̜͇̰͇̙̱̺̺̮͇̩̞̖͇̣̫͔̣̬̦͈̯͎͍̘̼̙̞̘̬̣̩̰̝͚̟̑̀̑̀̿̃́̄̅̐̀̾̌̓͗̿̓̑́̒̑̈́̀͐͛̓́̊̽̄̿͒̕̚̕̚͘̕͜͠͝͝ͅr̶̨̨̛̻̠͔͓͇͕̹̖͔̲͈̙̝̞̹͓̬̣̗̩̥͕̥̤̙̬̝̱̰̖̱̼̫̭̖͚͇͉͈̪̫͔̆̌͋̈́̽̾̂͐̑͌͋̽̐̆̂̓̔̇̊͆̊̈̾̀̀̒̆̐̏̕͘͘̕͠͠͠͝͝͠͝e̷̢̛͈̣͙͇̣̟̺͚͉͖̎̓͑͌̆̓̍̋̈́̈́̑̆̀̍̇̓̒̄͊̓̔͐́̊̃̅̌͛̚͜͝͠͝ę̸̱̼̝̫͕̤̣̪̱͖̰͔̺̰̤̥̪̺̦̟̰̑̈́̽̇́͝k̶̢̧̡̢̢̡͎̟̟̙̭̤͚͔̜̥̻̥̠̜̠͓̤̙̘̮̝̤̪͇̗̠̺̣̰̜̝̮̘̯̼͕̙͍̲͈̮̣̱̗̐͊͒͗͑̉̆̋̀́̕͜͜͠ ̶̢̡̡̰̻̳͓͈̫̬͇̱̫̫͔͓͕͓̫͇̘̩̞͍͔̰̹̮̥̯͖͉̖̯̳͚͕̝͕̌̓̿̀͂̆̉̌̐̆̆̀̉́͑͘͝͝͠ͅņ̸̨̧̨̹̤̞̮̺̼̜̳̭̪̖̙̝̳̭̝̲̲̲̣̘͓̖̳͈͇̯͉̜̖̲͖̬̪͍̘̤̲̗̘̲̦̮̒̈́͂͛́͒̊̅͛͒̔̓͊̎́͊̋̅̒̂̈́̓̽̉̒͂̾͌͗̓̽̕̚̚͜͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅa̵̫̟͈̭͙͍̯̻̬͐̎͑͑̇̇̽̅̒͌̋̔̈̓̑̒̍̕͠͝ͅm̵̢̢̡̢̡̻͈̯̰̼̳͕͚̯̖̙̠͙̺̖̥͍̯͙̝̗̤͈̗̖̞͍̬̱̳̫̤̪̟̻̳͉̰̦͙̪̼̱͎̭͇̥̦̈̿̂̅̏́̓͗̀͗͒̈́͘͜͝͝ͅͅe̵̛͈̪͙͇̫̠̣̮̪̮̲̠͙̪̳̞̭͎̝̘͇̯͉͎͓̜̦̝͕͋̓̇̇̌̒̔̾͊̃͛͆̈́̎͆̎͆̇̈́̒̄̈̋͌̂̇̀̈́̓͑̃̈́̌͑̈̚̚̕̕͝͝͝͝ͅş̸̧̧̧̢̛̛̗͕͚̭͎͎͓̹̩͔̝̬̠̯͓̪̯̹͍̝̗̯̳̼̳͓̗͔͔̞͎̫̻̝̳̼̯̬̻̮͓̥̺͍̭̳́̀̔̽̂̉̒́̀̆̑̏̈́́́̉̉̑̈́͋̄͒́̃͂̈́̒̋͋̾͒̑́̊̚̕͜͝͠͠ ̵̞̖͍̜̭̯̘͔͔̱̩̲̤͈͇̯̦̠͕̮͈͕̮̼̱͙̹̮͉̱̒̍͒͊́̔̃̀̏̒̒̂͂̉̑̊̎̐̓̉͆͐̾̊͘͘͘͘͘͝͠ļ̷̢̢̨̛͙̹͇͕̬̝̗̟̖͇̹͎̫͖̱̘͖͈͙͉̰̘̲͓̯͐̌̓͗̑̈́̆͛̀̍̒̆̀͌͑̾̊̑̽͐̑̌̈̿̉̽̓̎̓̕̚͝i̴̥̪̲̅͐̀̔̐̀̀͗̎̆̊̿͑̈́̅̃̈́̄̋͆̋͊̀̈́̚͘͝͝k̶̢̢̧̪̥̹̱̫̫̦͔̬̭̫̝͇̠̮̬͖̭͍̭̝͓̣͉̼̝̗̼̹̣̦͈͚̖̹̣̀͛̒͒̇̉̆̀̌̿͐̎̄͗̾͌͂̓̈́̈́̉͑͒̀͛̐̒̅͋̾͘ͅͅḛ̷̢̧̨̫̯̼̜͖͎̥̦̘̱̥̠̭̪̬̰̠̱͔̠̫̾̒͋̆͒̊̆̒̀̇͌͐̈́͊̂̑̐͗̈́̓̽̋̿̇̓̓̐̎̌͒̕͜͠͝ ̸̨̨̨̟͕̘̦́͆̔̒̿̃̈́̀͆̚͝͝Y̷̛̫͕̞͔̟̥̥̩̙̥͎͋̽̀̀̔͒̏́͊̽́̽͋́̈́͜͝O̸̧̧̟͎͍̦͔͉͇̺̗͇̥͈͙̻̠̼̖̜̗̟̗̘̝̼͓͉̔͂́͊̀̓̐̚̚͜͝Ư̶̢̡̢̛̟̲̻̜̜̠̣̈̌̄͑̄̿̾̿̾̈́͆̍́͆̏͛̊̔͐̿͊̓̋͆͂̾̔͛́̅̎̉̿͗̆̀́̿̋͘̕̕͝͝ͅR̴̢̨̨͖̯͉͖̺̬̙̟͍̭̯̻͕͍̜̥͖͖̘̞͚̹̤̰̲̘̖̬͇͖̹͙̟͇͚̘̞̤̘͖̰̹̺̞͕̥̝̘̜̠̤̎͑͌̀̽̀̂͂͂́͑́̀̓̊͊̀̂̑̌͜͠ͅŞ̶̡̞͉̜͙͉̦̱̰̭͔͓͙̯̪̠̩̖̫̞͈̙̱̣̳̱̼̫̠͚̑̈́́̅͂̊͋̍̄̊̊̀͌͒͆̽̋̀̑͌̐̂̀͛͒͛̐́̀́́̏́̌̈͂͊̈́͛̄̕̚͜͠͝͠͠͝͝͠͝ ̷̨̡̗̙͎͎̭̩͇̯̲̳͙̳͙̗̤̪̞͚͍̰͚̱͓̺̭̜͓̙̰̱̰̪͕̘̮̠͚͙͈̜̝̬̳̜͈̪͔̌̀̄͌̉̒́̃̋̾̊̃̀̄̐͑̈́͒͒́̏̌̔̈́̍́̆̀͑́̆̎̄̋̿͋̂̈́̍̃̀̚͜͜͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅa̷̭̞̮̲̥̼̮͚̠̤̹͈̹͙̝̖͙̟͕̝̲͛̈́̈́̈̉̂̇͛͠͝r̷̢̢̛̪̫̗͍̺̣̼̖̻͇͉̰̭̩̟̣̬̤̰͇̾̂͆͐͌͊̈̆̎̀͒̓̓͐͜͠͠e̸̪̼͚̤͎͍̦̣̲̩͉͎̤̤̬̹̩̲͕̖̤̯̒͒̒̆̾̏́͋͑̅͛́̅̃͘͘ ̵̡̼̙̟̟̭̗̻͔̦̼̜̦̠̟̻͔̇l̶͎̮͚͓̘͓̫̪̬̫̳̣͈̪͚͋̉͌͂̈́̊͋̈́̏̑̾͋͊̽̂̿͛͗͋̃̀̏̃̓͐̅̈́̈́͌͊̅̍͆͒̊͗͛̂͂̏͘͘͝͝ä̵̡̧̢̧̧̛̮̹̭̣̥̱̮̩̤̣̠̤̦̙̰̦̭͔̰̟̙̦̠̗̣̥̯̺̦͕̝͚̹͙̹̳͖̘́̔́̓͒̍͋̀̀͋͋͆͑͊̓̋̓͆̒̉̋̄̓̿̈́̎̀̒̽̀̓̆̉̅͂̈̈́̀̋̅́̀͐̓͂̓̕͘͜͝͠͝͠ͅṁ̶̢̢̛̟̼̼̙̹͎̣̮̲̰͙̜̰̥̫̥͓̗̼̲̼̼̘͖͎̰̼͕̲̬̗͎̠͎̪̰̠̰̖̞͎̱̤̩̦̱͂͆̐̒̑̅̉͒̊̃͛̀̽̋̂̎̾̇́̀̈͊̿͌̌̇̄͘͜͠͝ͅͅȩ̶̜͈͙̭̽͌̊̅͒͆́͒̒͗̋̏̅̅́̐̽̍̽͂̊͆̿̀̏̊͌͛̔͌͗̏͐̿̐̋̎̂̄̓̈́̃͌͘̕̕̕̚͘̕͠!̸̧̛̛̛͖̤̮̗̝͙͔̜̗̩̟̥̺̼͎̞͇̣̤̬̖̈́̏̐̒̈̀͐̈̅́̐̋̏́̎͑̑͛̾͒̚͜͠͝͠ͅ ̸̧̡̝̣̘͈͍̺̬̼͖̮̜̺̬͎̖̰̗̩͖̻̲̞͍͚̲̜̬͖̜͇̫̺̬̭͚͓̤͈̮̥̮̱͈̙̬̖̻̝̬̆̽͗͊̆̄̊͜͝ ⛥

𝗪𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻'𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗿𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲?

⛧ F̶̢̢̛̤͈͕̣̜̭̲̦͇͚̗̙̜͖̯̹́͋̐̓̋̍̿͌̀̏́̍̀͆̓̒̈́̍͋̍͂̓́̉̎̃̈́͆̄́̋̔̉͂̌͛̋̾͐̒͌̋̈́̾͐̍͘͘̚̕̕͜͝͝ͅi̴̧̢̧̦͖̜̦͕̪̜͙̙̜̠̬͖̯̾̔͒͌̿͒̀̇̌͑̽̓̓̈̒̊̌͘̚͝͝͝n̴̡̨̧̧̦̟̹̣̲̫̹̤͎̠̝͚̥͓̟̙̱̜̫͇͙̺̤̼̱͙̠͇͉̝͕͙̰͂̓̄̌͊̅̑̓̏͑̓̃̍̽́̀̽̊̄̿̂̈́̑̕̕͠ẹ̸̡̡̡̢̢̢̧̛̹̭̤̣̲̪̣̗͎͕̺͚̘̝̰͖̺̜͓̹͖̲̻̲̼̰̲̓͋̀͋̈́͛̌͗̑̑̓́̎̐̂̏̑̄̈́̅͑̓͂͑̈́̄͑͛̄̓̋̓̌̋̿͊͌̀͂̓̈́̃̕͘͜͠͝͝͝͝ͅ.̸̨̧̡̢̡̛̳̥͔̝̘̟̰̗̹̩͙̘͍̭͈̰̦̦̞͉͍̥̹̺̙̣̱̺̙̲͈̮͇̙̯̯̪̰̗͓͖̀̽̈́̾̍̾̀̋͋̃̅̊̓̂̀͌̈́̕̚͘͘̕ͅ ̴̢̖̠̞͈͔̘̩̝̪͉̭͉̟̟̠̤̤̜̖͚̈́̅̿̉̑͊̎͊͗̀͋͊̑͊̀͗͗̚̚̕̚B̸̢̨̢̢̨̧̛̭̜͎̪̥͍̹͚̬̟͍̠̳̫̹̖̺̳͖̼̳͈͍͍͎̙͍̱̳͖̣̗͎͖̜̮͎̲͊̓̌̔̅̾͑̉̿̒̐̑̀͂̀̏̄͌̑̿̾̌͆͐͛̀͆̌̈́͑̂͐̿̊̉̈̽͐͐̐̐̐̌̅̋͗̅̅̎̈͐̽̕̚̕͠ͅư̵̩͉͙̦̬̱͚͔͚͎̜̤̰͓͇͈͎̺̜͕͚̆̌́̃̈́̇̏̔͋̊́̇̅̈͑̋̿̓̏́̋̀̈̅͌̌̈̎͝͠͝͝͠͝t̴̨̡̧̢̢̛̛͙̞̫̟̟͍͈̩͎̣̱͖͎̱̲͓̺͔̻̳̮̺͕̥̝̪̻̩͔̱̦͇̩̱̖̘̬͍̦̪͖͇̦̝̟͎̤̉̀̌̒̍́̐̒̋̒̋̅͛̀͌̃͂̾̆̉́̈́̋͗̈̉̈̋̃̔̏̈́̌̍̏̈́͗̾͋͂̐͘̚͘̚̚͜͝͝͝͝͠ ̷̧̡̢̢̡̯͕̙͓͇̱͇͖̝̘͉̹̗̤̪͔̘̺͉̜͍͙̖̼͇̲̜̫͈̰̱̓̊̔̇̋̾̑̔̅̑͝͝Ǐ̴̧̢̧̧̛̛̙̮͈͔̖̗͇͙͓̣͔͙̪̹̰̯̌̓͆̅́͛̀́̂̀̆̃͛͑̽͗̃́̓̌͆̂̓̅͗̓̔̏͒͒̂̑̐͒̓͘̚͘͘̕͠͝ͅ'̵̧̢̯̫͕̼̤̼̻͚̳̭̪͈̤̭̯̣͍͈̆̈́̑̓͒͊̍͑̇̇̓̿͊̐̑́͛̕̚̕l̷̢̺̰̼̫̝̟͈̹̦̪̲̟̭̫͕͎͓̻̊̑̓̀͒̄̒͑̆͗̿̓̓̑̍̔́̆͊̀̎̓̓̾̋́͑͂̑̇̎̇̌͗̃͌̐̆͑͋̇̕̚̕̕̕͠ͅḷ̶̨̡̧̢̜̳̖̳̱̞͚̭̱̘͉̼̘̺̤̝̺̫͕͚͕̰̖̣̲̠̦̤̩̫̤̦͉̃́͗̿͌̋̓̐̿̈́̌̄̍̎͛͗͊͜͜͝ͅͅ ̴̢̢̧̛̞͎͙̪̰͚͎̺͍̹͇͍̜̰̬̭͇̤̝̝̭͕̲̱̗͉̹̳̯̖͓͎̖̮̤͈̦̗̮̫͜͜ͅc̵̡̡̧̢̢̛͕̯͎̟̫̘̳͕͈̫͇̙̭̞̣͖͍̮͔̫̰̦̳̳͔̥͚͙̖̭̭̮͍̿̌̇͗̅͗̏̋͋͗͑͗̒͑͑͛͑͒͆͒̈́͐̆̌̇͘͘͝͠͠o̵̡͓̼̳̖͕̞̺̤͓̝͍͇͖̺̰͚͕̯͇͔͇̦̣͙̿̓͂̆͌̋̎̏̓͒̒̀͛̑̓͂͂̐̊̏̽̐̊͘̚̕͜͝m̸̧̢̢̛̛̹̰̭̮͕̯̠̞͓̬͊͑̏͛̎̑̑̋͆͗͐̈́͑̎̽́̒̀͂̾́̒͛̌̋͋̎̽̔̏͗͑̀̐́̃̌̄̅̆̒̾͘͘͜͠͝e̶̢̢̡̱͎̥͓̞̠̤̰̞̞̻̖̺͈̞͔̫͍̰̪̱͚͈͒͛̋͌ ̴̨̡̨̢̧̛̩̙͓̜̼̤̱̙͔͙̤̖̤̦̱̦̪͇̻̘̪͈͍̞̭̦̱̖̖̫͔̩̠̱̣̘̘̳͈̲̯͔̪̝͕͕͌͊̂̆͂̀͋̇̿̌̕̚͜͜͜͝͠ͅͅͅḅ̷̛̪̈̌͂̀̐̑̆́̎͛̊͐̽͑̉̄̄̋̔̽͒͛̌̾̌͐̃͘̚̕ă̸̧̧̧̧̧͕̜̝̯̣͈̖͖̠̼̳͍̰̩̻̱̰̭̜̱̮̝͔̜̳̠̮̲͖̦̗̜̻̻̤̳͚̱̈́͂͘ͅͅc̸͉̟̖̈́͛̏͆́̋̊͐̿̄̎̾͛̚̕͝͝͝k̷̛͓͈̮̰̺̫̪̺̹̲̩̰͎͖̙͚̖̉̌͆̌̌̑̊̏̄̊̚͘͘͠.̶̢̡̧̞̰̮̭̠̰͍̦̻͔͚̬̱͍̟̟̳̖̤̗͎̣̬͓̘̖̙̬̲̩̳̜͔͈̣͎̣͉͔͉̞̭̲̟͓̭͔̭̤̆͛͊̀ ̶̢̩̥͎͍͓̘͖͍̜̣͔̪͇̖͈̤̝̥̗̝͙͎̗̖̤̈́̏͋͆̐̍͌̆̑͗̉̽͗̓́̑̽͆͆́̉͑͑̃̽̀̽̄̇̔͑̾͂̀̍̂͋͊̀̏̉͊͛̕̕̚͜͜͝͝͝͝͝B̶̢̧̨̢̠͎̝̜̺̙͇͓̗͇̠͔̤̦͙͒̀̌͊̈̅́̾̆͌̿̑̉̆̃̏͋̌͋̊͊y̸̨̛̦̪͖͉̦̲͆͑̂͛͑͋̀̏̑̔̾̽͋́́̓̃͌͐͑̈́̒̔͗́́̾͆̇̏͂̄͂̈́̃͛̈́͐̋͆̕̕̚̚͠͠ȩ̸̢̢̨̛͙̺̙̺͍̬̮͚̠̘͎̟̗̼̭͔̫͖̝͉̼̳͖̰͉͇̐͐̊͋̎̾͑͌̔͆̓̿̇͐̐̑̂̉͛̍̇̅̎̎̀͋̄̒̓̊̈́͆̆̋̎̅͗̈́̍̀̽̚͝͝͠ͅ-̶̨̧̢̢̧̨̺͖͇̬͉̩̙͎͇̘̙̙͖͈̮̠͔͈̹̗̙͓̬͓̥̘͔̖̣͚̰̣̫̺͖͈̮̖͎̯͔̖̯̦̼̙͌̈́̈́͒͂͗͂̓͒͆̓͒̂̀̕b̶͕͍͖̳͙̯̠̠͉͉̱̣̺̯͋̿̐̊͒̐̀͋͗̽̀̍̊̇͗͘̕̕ẏ̵̡̡̧̢̢̪̙̪͖̠̘̙̯̻͓̣̭͕͓̠̙̯̗̫̱̞̲̈́̒̇̈͒͌̂̏ȩ̶̢̧̥͎͉͍̳͇͇̰͔̖͔̙̫̼̗͔͔̘̺̮͉̞̰̮̘̥̗͇̘̣͎͙͕̪͕̗̰͕̑͌̓̀͛̀͂̐̾̈́̇͆̄̀̒́͂̀͋͘͝ͅͅ,̴̢̧̛͉͖̘̯͓̖̜̘͔̞͖͔̙͉̦̝͔͓͉̠͔̲͉͙͇̜͕̫̏̀̈̇́͒̂͒̏̾̌̽̐̏͛̉̅́͂̄́͒͑́͊̀͗̽̀̄̽͠͝͝͠͠͠͝ ̸̨̧̨̛̠̞̬̬̪̖̖̜̫͇̪̪̥͍̰̬͇̥̜̗̖̩͎̯̟͙̥̳̘̗̦̞̲͐̉̀̊̽̅͛͋̃̋̃̂͛͆͑̾̒͌̓͑͐̏̎̉̎̌͂̋̈́̑̏͊́̍̃́̈́́̌̈́̾͊̐̿̌̄̉͊̚̕͝͝ͅw̴̧̧̧̡̡͓͙͙͔̼̳̯̙͈̙͚͚̗̦̗̮̻͉̭͎̱̪̻̯̝̥̘̳͍̙͍̪̩̯̝̖͆́͛̅̏͐͆̔̉̆͑̒͑̋̈́͜͝ͅá̷̭̒͗̊̕̚t̸̖͛̉͛͘t̷̡̛̗̜̜̭̮̠̜͔̯̫̯̺̩̥̬͎̝̥͔͓̤̊́̑̐͋͛̀̄̃̏̌̅͊̓͒̉̑̿̾̈́̈́̽͂̀̔͛̈́̆̅̓̏̇́̈͛̎̎̈́͆͛̕̚̕͝ͅp̵̡̻̗̠̹̭͙͉̗̭͖͗̈́̍̏̅͋͛̈́̿ä̸̖̫́̐̍̉̈́̔̾̀̅͒̇͗͗̀̍͛̂̓̂̅̕͘̚̚̕͝͠͠͝͠ḏ̴̢̨̨̨̧̛̣̘͎͙̱͙͎̼̦͚̫̟̫͓͎̭̱̙̭̲̱̤͎̮̰͈̯̘̥̜̞̻͎̻̘̘̱̘̠̩͕͖̳̻̠̃͆̊̅̽̆̋̈́͆̑̍̀̿͑̐̿̑̇͌̏̈͛͌̓͂͋̾͋̃͊͊͘̚͘͘̕͘͜͝͝ ̵̨͉̬͈̝̣͍̯̣͍͖̖̟̖̠͉͈̜̹̙̮͎͕̎̈́͌́̀͊̔́̈́̎̄̉͑̈́̀͛̌͛͆̐̇̈͊̾̀̍̍͆̅̈́̓̿͛̀̈́̇̇̿̈́̍͜͜͝͝ͅw̶̗͎̲̭̱̺͔̪͔̌̄̈́̈́̀͛̊̓̍́̅̑͋̊̽̀̈́̄̅̌̈́̎͗̎̈́̒͛̉̅̄̀̃̈̈́̎̇̂̋͌̔̌̏͑̓̍̚͘͘̕̚͝͠͠͠h̵̠̬͗̓̐͐̈́̀͌̓̏͆̓̍́̂͂̋̓̀͒̾̎̈́̆̒͋̀̾̂̈́͒̅͂̆͊̒̌͛̎̎́̋̒̚͘͘͝͠͝͝ǫ̶̢̙̲͇͖̩̪̞͈͙͎̥͔̩̣̝͔̗͖͓̜̞̤̙̣̬͑̏̊̃̋͝r̵̡̨̛̝͚̣͇̫͖̲̞͉̟̲̥̟͎̗̩͚̩̖͙̪̻̔͊̆̋̐̅̃̈́̑̉͗̈̏̓͊̆̈́̈́̈́̀̌͂̌̉̅̔̿̂̿̐̀̈́̒̌̓̀̒̔͂̊̽̚͘̕͘̕͜͝ͅȩ̸̡̛̦̟͙̩̙̙̠̼̀͛̂̇͛͌̄̒̔͛̆̓͘̕͜͜͝͝s̶̡̧̡̧̛̛̯̗̥̰͉̙͚̳̗̝͍̜͈̤̬̥̗̮̬̀̀̆́̂̋̀͑͐̊̈́̈̏̂̉̊̍̽͌́̌͌́̈́͛̉͐͑̚͘͘̚͘͜͝͠͝͝ͅ.̷̛͇̼̼͍͇̰̬̺̰̖̯͈̭̰̗̭̱͖̱̦͎̰̞͙̳̫̲̬̘̞̤̹͚͙͂͑̈́͆̌̽̇̐̈́̉̅̆́̊̔͑̏͗̉͐͊͌̋͛̾̇̇͆̆̓̎̓̃̚̚͘̚͝ ⛧