anxietyrat
Straight outta the garbage.
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𝕎𝕖𝕝𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖.
‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗
Another thread, another day.
Sup, I am Rat.
I'm looking to grow a certain boy of mine in terms of development. For me, the best way to do this is to roleplay them out.
I, subjectively, consider myself advanced as a writer.
This fellow is suited for a wide variety of plots, and I have got a wide range of ideas for him.
I'd love to spin him with someone else's OC.
I'm currently open for MxM or MxF and any non-binary pairings as well.
I can write in third-person or first-person.
I will love you forever if you indulge in first-person with me, I'm craving it currently. However, I am happy to do third-person, of course.
As a note, I love getting artwork of this babe, so, bonus points to roleplaying with him is I may purchase a scene from a professional artist of our OCs.
I have done it before, aha.
⋞Behold, the boy⋟
He has a realistic FC if that's your preference!~
Elias Dawn {Realistic}
ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕀𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕤/𝔽𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕞𝕤/𝕊𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 & 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕤
‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗
Note, he is pliable and can fit into a multitude of plots/settings or fandoms.
Italics are my role.
‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗
𝕎𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕤
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A gale that bore frigidity bit at his extremities, to the bone or so it felt and Elias cursed beneath his breath, which expelled a wispy, vaporous cloud spiraling into the cutting air. Not even his gloved fingers knew freedom from the sharp nip.
Moreover, Elias found himself reflecting, having completed business at a time suitable to his liking. Ole Sky-vine, where satisfied clients remembered their biases only when backs had turned from each other and the transaction born from coveting an inebriation met its end.
That was when the yawning schism between the impoverished and the affluent flourished again. Akin to weeds that grew before festering and blooming once more on its remnants in a circle of continuity. Those youth born prosperous grew to detest the poor, older generations sowing the seeds of such. Here, the wolves ate their young.
However, there lay a convoluted beauty within Elias's line of work which saw him connecting with individuals from all avenues of life. The latest, and last being a lad clad in a tweed three-piece, complete with the sheen of black Oxfords shined to finish and a watch lined with tricklings of gold.
All in all, it did not take much scrutinization to tell the man sang exuberance from head to toe.
Oh, and how that wristwatch was a temptress, indeed; however, Elias did not steal from paying clients, if they were in good standing, at least.
Ah, and yet Elias held inclinations towards remaining a blur amidst these dealings, dressed so to obscure his economic standing, not outfitted to match stereotypes. Although his attire did not propagate a sense of overabundance, it did enough to gratify his wealthier clients. A requirement, lest he attracted the attention of a traipsing police officer, better he did not resemble the common descriptor of a Rockie. Or anyone who might display an inkling that they were up to no good. Which, in actuality, was his constant state of being. Did not mean he could not deceive the public in regards to that, wool over the eyes and such.
With a cigarette suspended between two practiced fingers, Elias forged ahead through the bitter frost, teeth chattering between long drags. Yes, Elias loathed the cold. Furthermore, he near enough held a sensitivity to it with his emaciated frame, bony prominences offering him scarce fragments of protection against these elements, leaving, of course, the fraction of sprawling warmth beneath his winter-wear precious.
Ah, how he pined to settle down in a tranquil location with the comforts of isolation. Alongside, of course, the delectability of a high. A straightforward yearning, yet the ease of acquisition seemed elusive when life bustled around him.
Regardless, flicking the rusted gear of his lighter, he bore a flame to kiss the end of his cigarette. Which, to his chagrin, appeared to maintain resistance, staying lit due to the relentless gusts of wind.
In truth, he ought to go back to Clifford Heights, returning the bottles of prescription medication to their proper place of hiding. However, Elias found it strenuous and burdensome to pivot around and do such.
The insatiable beast known as hunger began to gnaw at him, tormenting him, urging him to binge. Just another reason to get high; he could focus on that as opposed to the dreaded sensation of wanting to devour a whole meal. With a viewpoint distorted by what he saw in the mirror, hunger left him miserly and bounded by guilt.
No one deals drugs if they fit in the confining and well-structured, unbudgeable box society conceived for those labeled "normal."
Furthermore, despite a stoicism in his countenance, Elias's nerves were frayed, becoming threadbare by each lapsing minute.
Aware of the reasoning, sourced from a letter addressed from the residence in which his Grandfather- a bad memory- dwelled. For now, Elias strived to suppress the remembrance until it dissipated and slipped from his mind like granules of sand sifting through an hourglass although he could not shake the perturbation.
While it was true, he tiptoed on a taut rope, and his woes were both mountainous and continual, he declined with a fervency to accept any aid from the bastard. A given, since Philip was manipulative, and the cyclic nature did not allure him.
Regardless, focalization upon another subject would help. So Elias toyed with an unlabeled bottle tucked within his jacket pocket, the rattling of the medications proving soothing in a peculiar way. Akin to a lullaby. Despite their lack of labels, Elias knew which drug was which. Each had an indicator of a sort, be it a symbol to the very form of the pill. Despite it being illegal, he prided himself on being a good dealer, and an even better thief.
Of course, he had hoped for something more, unexplainable and better, enigmatic almost, yet one must play the hand life deals them, even if with complicated cards. In the meanwhile, so consumed by his ruminations and pondering, Elias's foot went straight through a weak layer of ice. Thus, fracturing it so that it dampened it with the gelid water that snared him.
"God damn it."
Wincing as the stinging bite of cold surged through him like a parasite, Elias reached into his boot, denoting his sodden sock with an explicative. This blunder is where being lost in musings instead of being analytical of surroundings gets one, a foot deep into the cruel, lapping waters of a glaciated lake.
Beyond exasperated, Elias shook his foot as if to shake the freeze and increase circulation. Had anyone seen his blunder? Having traversed away from the mass of humanity by the accord of his own feet, he hoped fortune favored him in not looking like a jackass publicly speaking.
To his dismay, two women were adjacent to him, one whose ebony locks made a stark contrast between the ivory purity of the snow beneath her. The other stood, looking downwards as if engaging in conversations and speaking utterances Elias was too far to discern.
While one of the girls he knew naught, the one with noire tumbling, tendrils he knew in a unique, yet intriguing, cocktail of friendship and business combined.
Damned, if she did not look stoned.
Time as a dealer versed him in the cues of intoxication rendered by alcohol and narcotics, or perhaps an accumulation of both. Visage alone was enough to unravel the inquiry of someone's sobriety.
Almost forgetting his drenched foot, Elias ambled towards the two, humored, a wry grin, minute, playing on his features. Never had he ran into Boulevard outside of a transaction, it seemed fate made it so never would they meet unless it was to delve into drugs. Although, that changed now.
"Well, well, well Boulevard and-?"
Idling, he studied the other girl, and she looked like the pinnacle of sobriety, so, he imagined Boulevard had not shared.
"I don't believe I've met nor seen you in town. Either way, I'm Elias, a- friend, of Boulevard's."
𝕎𝕖𝕝𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖.
‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗
Another thread, another day.
Sup, I am Rat.
I'm looking to grow a certain boy of mine in terms of development. For me, the best way to do this is to roleplay them out.
I, subjectively, consider myself advanced as a writer.
This fellow is suited for a wide variety of plots, and I have got a wide range of ideas for him.
I'd love to spin him with someone else's OC.
I'm currently open for MxM or MxF and any non-binary pairings as well.
I can write in third-person or first-person.
I will love you forever if you indulge in first-person with me, I'm craving it currently. However, I am happy to do third-person, of course.
As a note, I love getting artwork of this babe, so, bonus points to roleplaying with him is I may purchase a scene from a professional artist of our OCs.
I have done it before, aha.
⋞Behold, the boy⋟
He has a realistic FC if that's your preference!~
Elias Dawn {Realistic}
ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕀𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕤/𝔽𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕞𝕤/𝕊𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 & 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕤
‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗
Note, he is pliable and can fit into a multitude of plots/settings or fandoms.
Italics are my role.
Modern
Historical (ask me about this one, there are some time-periods I'm not well versed in.)
Fantasy
Futuristic
Utopic/Dystopic
Fantasy
Sci-Fi
Post-Apocalyptic
Any mixture of the above, to be honest.
Open to suggestions.
themes; angst ; slow burn; psychological ; gritty & dark; macabre; slight fluff; survival; thriller ; mystery ; the human psyche ; beasts ; revenge ; moralistic complexities ; phobias ; toxicity ; musically inspired ; romance ; platonic ; mental illness (but only if played accurately) ; addiction ; death ; noire ; mafia & crime ; darker twists on the red string of fate; darker twists on fairy tales; rivarly to romance; cthuloid shenanigans; things based off of Stephen King's works; exploration of life after death;
Historical (ask me about this one, there are some time-periods I'm not well versed in.)
Fantasy
Futuristic
Utopic/Dystopic
Fantasy
Sci-Fi
Post-Apocalyptic
Any mixture of the above, to be honest.
Open to suggestions.
themes; angst ; slow burn; psychological ; gritty & dark; macabre; slight fluff; survival; thriller ; mystery ; the human psyche ; beasts ; revenge ; moralistic complexities ; phobias ; toxicity ; musically inspired ; romance ; platonic ; mental illness (but only if played accurately) ; addiction ; death ; noire ; mafia & crime ; darker twists on the red string of fate; darker twists on fairy tales; rivarly to romance; cthuloid shenanigans; things based off of Stephen King's works; exploration of life after death;
Wolf's Rain
Hero Academia
Parasyte
Tolkien, though I could be better versed.
Probably wouldn't mind doing setting in some of Stephen King's novels.
Fallout
The Elder Scrolls
The Last of Us
Lovecraft
Dragon Age, another I could be better versed in, tbh.
Mass Effect
FNAF
Gravity Falls
Rick and Morty
Anything by Junji Ito. I suppose that's a bit niche.
Silent Hill
Law and Order: SVU, CSI
Amnesia and its counterparts.
Dark Souls.
Homestuck.
The Purge
Bioshock
Red Dead Redemption
GTA
Animal Farm, 1984
Flatland
F.E.A.R
Condemned: Criminal Origins
Haunting Ground
The Cat Lady, Downfall
Dead Space
Okami
Amnesia
The Hannibal Lector Series
Hero Academia
Parasyte
Tolkien, though I could be better versed.
Probably wouldn't mind doing setting in some of Stephen King's novels.
Fallout
The Elder Scrolls
The Last of Us
Lovecraft
Dragon Age, another I could be better versed in, tbh.
Mass Effect
FNAF
Gravity Falls
Rick and Morty
Anything by Junji Ito. I suppose that's a bit niche.
Silent Hill
Law and Order: SVU, CSI
Amnesia and its counterparts.
Dark Souls.
Homestuck.
The Purge
Bioshock
Red Dead Redemption
GTA
Animal Farm, 1984
Flatland
F.E.A.R
Condemned: Criminal Origins
Haunting Ground
The Cat Lady, Downfall
Dead Space
Okami
Amnesia
The Hannibal Lector Series
Criminal x Cop
Demon x Mortal
Demon x Cultist
Vampire x Mortal
Vampire x Werewolf
Vampire x Supernatural Hunter
Werewolf x Supernatural Hunter
Werewolf x Werewolf
Werewolf x Mortal
Mortal x Ghost
Drug Dealer x Drug Addict
Drug Deal x Sober
Drug Addict x Drug addict
Open x Closeted
Reaper x Immortal
Time Traveler x Regular person
Obsessive x Object of Obsession
Seasoned apocalypse survivor x Clueless Apocalypse Survivor
Apocalypse Survivor x Apocalypse Survivor
Popular x Unpopular
Cultist x God [or any otherworldly creature]
Soulmate x Soulmate [preferably with darker twists]
Dragon shifter x Dragon Hunter
Shifter x Hunter
Kidnapper x Kidnapped
Angel x Demon
Disordered x Stabilized invididual trying to help [would be nice to have some fluff with this]
Grumpy Detective x Rockie Detective
Rival x Rival
Gang member x Mafia member
High-rank gang member x Undercover officer
Monster x Mortal
Witch x Outcast
Witch x Regular human
Experiment x Scientist assigned to observe said experiment
Experiment x Experiment
Demon x Mortal
Demon x Cultist
Vampire x Mortal
Vampire x Werewolf
Vampire x Supernatural Hunter
Werewolf x Supernatural Hunter
Werewolf x Werewolf
Werewolf x Mortal
Mortal x Ghost
Drug Dealer x Drug Addict
Drug Deal x Sober
Drug Addict x Drug addict
Open x Closeted
Reaper x Immortal
Time Traveler x Regular person
Obsessive x Object of Obsession
Seasoned apocalypse survivor x Clueless Apocalypse Survivor
Apocalypse Survivor x Apocalypse Survivor
Popular x Unpopular
Cultist x God [or any otherworldly creature]
Soulmate x Soulmate [preferably with darker twists]
Dragon shifter x Dragon Hunter
Shifter x Hunter
Kidnapper x Kidnapped
Angel x Demon
Disordered x Stabilized invididual trying to help [would be nice to have some fluff with this]
Grumpy Detective x Rockie Detective
Rival x Rival
Gang member x Mafia member
High-rank gang member x Undercover officer
Monster x Mortal
Witch x Outcast
Witch x Regular human
Experiment x Scientist assigned to observe said experiment
Experiment x Experiment
(* 𝙄𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙧 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩. 𝙄'𝙢 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨.)
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*𝙎𝙤𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙐𝙩𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙖 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙖, 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽, 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙪𝙖𝙡, 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙, 𝙖𝙣𝙙, 𝙞𝙣 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼.
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*𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙥𝙨𝙮𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙮 (𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙗𝙖𝙡 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧, 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙣 𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙢𝙖.
↞↞↞↞↞↞↞↞↞
*𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝, 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨, 𝙪𝙣𝙗𝙚𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢.
↞↞↞↞↞↞↞↞↞
𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙜 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙧.
↞↞↞↞↞↞↞↞↞
𝙊𝙧 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙨𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧.
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*𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙥, 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧, 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨, 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙜/𝙢𝙤𝙗 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙚/𝙢𝙤𝙗 𝙗𝙤𝙨𝙨.
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*𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧, 𝙖 𝙙𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚, 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽'𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙥𝙨, 𝙞𝙣𝙟𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙥𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙤𝙣 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼.
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*𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙖𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙒𝙤𝙡𝙛'𝙨 𝙍𝙖𝙞𝙣. 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄'𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨, 𝙤𝙠𝙖𝙮?
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𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙩, 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙜𝙚.
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𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽'𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚-𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙩. 𝙊𝙧 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙧, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚
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𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙤, 𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙮, 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙧, 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼.
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M𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡, 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙨, 𝙪𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢, 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽, 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙮. 𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙞𝙨 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮’𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙚𝙩. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙪𝙥𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢-𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙, 𝙖 𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙠𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙖𝙥𝙨 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼.
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𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖 𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩, 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙒𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨. 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙤𝙤𝙣, 𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡, 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙧, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙥, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨, 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙨 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙝 𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚. 𝘼𝙨 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚, 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩 ‘𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨’ (𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧) 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙠 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙬. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢 𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙣 𝙊𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣, 𝙖𝙡𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙝𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚. 𝙏𝙤𝙬𝙣𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙨, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼’𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚. 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮’𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚.
𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙤𝙤𝙣, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣’𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙧 𝙖 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙛𝙚𝙬 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨. 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙧, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨, 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙯𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙖 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚; 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙩, 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽; 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙬𝙖𝙮. 𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙘𝙖𝙣’𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨, 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙢𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖𝙢𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙖 𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙚, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽, 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢, 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙.
𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙨 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙚. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼’𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙖𝙩, 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙜𝙤 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚. 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮’𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚. 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨, 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚, 𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩’𝙨 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙩.
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𝘼 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙮𝙩𝙝.
𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙨.
𝙎𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙆𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 (𝙊𝙧 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡)|𝘿𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚
𝙊𝙧
𝙔𝘾 (𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙)|𝙈𝘾(𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙) **𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 & 𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙨**
𝙔𝘾 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝘾 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨. 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙚.
𝙊𝙪𝙧 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧.
𝙄𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧𝙨. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙖𝙡𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙚. 𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧.
𝙈𝘾 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙡𝙪𝙘𝙞𝙙 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙔𝘾’𝙨 𝙢𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨 (𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨), 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙧 𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩.
𝙈𝘾 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨; 𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙣 𝙔𝘾’𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙥𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨. 𝘼 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙜, 𝙫𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙨𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙙𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨, 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝘾 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙔𝘾’𝙨 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙔𝘾’𝙨 𝙫𝙤𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮. 𝙔𝘾 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙥 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙜, 𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙔𝘾 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙈𝘾. 𝙇𝙤𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚. 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙨 𝙔𝘾 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚? 𝙈𝘾 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙨 𝙚𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮.
𝙄'𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. 𝘽𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙛, 𝙖 𝙙𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙘 𝙖𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩, 𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙖 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙛𝙩 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙩. 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙢𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩. 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 f𝙖𝙩𝙚. 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨.
𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨: 𝙔𝘾 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧. 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩. 𝙒𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙪𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡. 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚. 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨. !𝘼𝙡𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙄𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙨!: 𝙔𝘾 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙙𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣 𝙪𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣, 𝙤𝙝 𝙗𝙤𝙮. 𝙊𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙚. 𝙄𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙏.
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𝘼𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖 𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙧-𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙, 𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧, 𝙪𝙥 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙨 "𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩" 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧, 𝙗𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙙. 𝘽𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙖 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙪𝙥𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚. 𝙃𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙩, 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨, 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮.
𝙐𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙧𝙠 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙖 𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙨, 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙣𝙚𝙛𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝, 𝙪𝙣𝙗𝙚𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙞𝙢, 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙫𝙪𝙡𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙧𝙪𝙞𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙥𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨.
𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 "𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨" 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙢 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙮- 𝙣𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣, 𝙣𝙤𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡, 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙢𝙗𝙤. 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙞𝙢𝙗𝙤 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮, 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙨 𝙘𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙘𝙮𝙘𝙡𝙞𝙘 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙥, 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙨 𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚.
𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙎𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼. 𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙣, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢. 𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙥𝙨𝙮𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙝𝙖𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙. 𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙛𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙪𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣. 𝙁𝙤𝙧, 𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙, 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙫𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙.
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*𝙎𝙤𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙐𝙩𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙖 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙖, 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽, 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙪𝙖𝙡, 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙, 𝙖𝙣𝙙, 𝙞𝙣 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼.
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*𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙥𝙨𝙮𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙮 (𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙗𝙖𝙡 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧, 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙣 𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙢𝙖.
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*𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝, 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨, 𝙪𝙣𝙗𝙚𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢.
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𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙜 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙧.
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𝙊𝙧 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙨𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧.
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*𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙥, 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧, 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨, 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙜/𝙢𝙤𝙗 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙚/𝙢𝙤𝙗 𝙗𝙤𝙨𝙨.
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*𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧, 𝙖 𝙙𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚, 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽'𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙥𝙨, 𝙞𝙣𝙟𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙥𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙤𝙣 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼.
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*𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙖𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙒𝙤𝙡𝙛'𝙨 𝙍𝙖𝙞𝙣. 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄'𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨, 𝙤𝙠𝙖𝙮?
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𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙩, 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙜𝙚.
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𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽'𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚-𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙩. 𝙊𝙧 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙧, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚
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𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙤, 𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙮, 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙧, 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼.
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M𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡, 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙨, 𝙪𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢, 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽, 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙮. 𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙞𝙨 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮’𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙚𝙩. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙪𝙥𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢-𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙, 𝙖 𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙠𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙖𝙥𝙨 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼.
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𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖 𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩, 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙒𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨. 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙤𝙤𝙣, 𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡, 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙧, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙥, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨, 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙨 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙝 𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚. 𝘼𝙨 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚, 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩 ‘𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨’ (𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧) 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙠 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙬. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢 𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙣 𝙊𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣, 𝙖𝙡𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙝𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚. 𝙏𝙤𝙬𝙣𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙨, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼’𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚. 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮’𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚.
𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙤𝙤𝙣, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣’𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙧 𝙖 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙛𝙚𝙬 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨. 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙧, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨, 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙯𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙖 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚; 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙩, 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽; 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙬𝙖𝙮. 𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙘𝙖𝙣’𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨, 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙢𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖𝙢𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙖 𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙚, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽, 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢, 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙.
𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙨 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙚. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼’𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙖𝙩, 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙜𝙤 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚. 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮’𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚. 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨, 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚, 𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩’𝙨 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙩.
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𝘼 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙮𝙩𝙝.
𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙨.
𝙎𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙆𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 (𝙊𝙧 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡)|𝘿𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚
𝙊𝙧
𝙔𝘾 (𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙)|𝙈𝘾(𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙) **𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 & 𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙨**
𝙔𝘾 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝘾 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨. 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙚.
𝙊𝙪𝙧 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧.
𝙄𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧𝙨. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙖𝙡𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙚. 𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧.
𝙈𝘾 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙡𝙪𝙘𝙞𝙙 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙔𝘾’𝙨 𝙢𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨 (𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨), 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙧 𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩.
𝙈𝘾 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨; 𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙣 𝙔𝘾’𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙥𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨. 𝘼 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙜, 𝙫𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙨𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙙𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨, 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝘾 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙔𝘾’𝙨 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙔𝘾’𝙨 𝙫𝙤𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮. 𝙔𝘾 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙥 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙜, 𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙔𝘾 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙈𝘾. 𝙇𝙤𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚. 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙨 𝙔𝘾 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚? 𝙈𝘾 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙨 𝙚𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮.
𝙄'𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. 𝘽𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙛, 𝙖 𝙙𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙘 𝙖𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩, 𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙖 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙛𝙩 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙩. 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙢𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩. 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 f𝙖𝙩𝙚. 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨.
𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨: 𝙔𝘾 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧. 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩. 𝙒𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙪𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡. 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚. 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨. !𝘼𝙡𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙄𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙨!: 𝙔𝘾 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙙𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣 𝙪𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣, 𝙤𝙝 𝙗𝙤𝙮. 𝙊𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙚. 𝙄𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙏.
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𝘼𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖 𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙧-𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙, 𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧, 𝙪𝙥 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙨 "𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩" 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧, 𝙗𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙙. 𝘽𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙖 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙪𝙥𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚. 𝙃𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙩, 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨, 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮.
𝙐𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙧𝙠 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙖 𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙨, 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙣𝙚𝙛𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝, 𝙪𝙣𝙗𝙚𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙞𝙢, 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙫𝙪𝙡𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙧𝙪𝙞𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙥𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨.
𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 "𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨" 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙢 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙮- 𝙣𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣, 𝙣𝙤𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡, 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙢𝙗𝙤. 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙞𝙢𝙗𝙤 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮, 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙨 𝙘𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙘𝙮𝙘𝙡𝙞𝙘 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙥, 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙨 𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚.
𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙎𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼. 𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙣, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢. 𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙥𝙨𝙮𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙝𝙖𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙. 𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙛𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙪𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣. 𝙁𝙤𝙧, 𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙, 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙫𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙.
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*If I Believe You - The 1975
“I thought I'd met you once or twice,
But that was just because the dabs were nice,
And opening up my mind.
Showing me consciousness is primary in the universe
And I had a revelation.
I'll be your child if you insist
I mean, if it was you that made my body
You probably shouldn't have made me atheist”
𝙂𝙤𝙙/𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 𝙭 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡.
𝙂𝙤𝙙/𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 𝙭 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡
𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 𝙭 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡.
*The Other Side Of Paradise - Glass Animals
“When I was young and stupid
My love left to be a rocking roll star.
He told, “Please don’t worry.”
Wise little smile that spoke so safely.”
𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛𝙡𝙮, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙤. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙚, 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙖 𝙤𝙣𝙚-𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙨𝙩. 𝙂𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙞’. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽, 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙙, 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼’𝙨 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨, 𝙨𝙤, 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣. 𝙃𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧, 𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙡𝙨 𝙗𝙮, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙤𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡, 𝙖𝙗𝙧𝙪𝙥𝙩𝙡𝙮, 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙚𝙛𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙. 𝙔𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽, 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙤𝙧, 𝙢𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙖, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙨, 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙, 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙢𝙚, 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝙄𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙬𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙠, 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩 𝙗𝙮. 𝙄𝙣 𝙖 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙗𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤, 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙤, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙠. 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙛𝙖𝙧 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙣?
*Like Real People Do - Hozier
"I knew that look dear
Eyes always seeking
Was there in someone
That dug long ago
So I will not ask you
Why you were creeping
In some sad way, I already know.
I will not ask you where you came from
I will not ask you and neither would you."
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
*Cane Shuga - Glass Animals
"Burn through my love
Just like your drugs
I've had quite enough
Or lack thereof."
𝘼 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩/𝙨𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙭 𝙄𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
**Craving Unravel - Jonathan Young {Cover}
"𝙄'𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣
𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.
𝙀𝙣𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝙙𝙞𝙚.
𝙎𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙄'𝙢 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚, 𝙪𝙣𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙄'𝙢 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚, 𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪."
Cryptid/Supernatural/Monstrous being/Previous Experiment|Either a former friend/partner, or alternatively someone they've met and connected with.
Can incorporate red string of fate into this.
I have a lot of ideas for this, I mean a lot.
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
The Beers - The Front Bottoms
"There's Beer,
In coffee mugs, water bottles, and soda cups.
And it's clear, as the windows I came through,
That you,
Are in one of those moods.
And I am in one of them too.
And it's hard, to communicate, anything.
I'm holding on to hope I'm sure was never even there."
𝙀𝙭|𝙀𝙭 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽'𝙨 𝙚𝙭, 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙, 𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽, 𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙮, 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝙈𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 {𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡} 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨.
*You Can Be The Boss - Lana Del Rey
He had a cigarette with his number on it,
He gave it over to me, "Do you want it?"
I knew it was wrong but I palmed it.
I saved it, I waited, I called it.
The liquor on your lips, the liquor on your lips,
The liquor on your lips makes you dangerous.
I knew it was wrong, I'm beyond it,
I tried to be strong but I lost it.
You taste like the Fourth of July
Malt liquor on your breath, my, my.
𝘾𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙭 𝙊𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙧
𝘽𝙖𝙙 𝙭 𝙂𝙤𝙤𝙙
𝙎𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙧.
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
*The Night We Met - Lord Huron
"I am not the only traveler,
Who has not repaid his debt.
I've been searching for a trail to follow again.
Take me back to the night we met.
And then I can tell myself,
What the hell I'm supposed to do.
And then I can tell myself,
Not to ride along with you.
I had all and then most of you,
Some and now none of you,
Take me back to the night we met.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do
Haunted by the ghost of you
Oh, take me back to the night we met"
Demon|Demon Slayer
Demon|Angel
Demon|Mortal/Cultist
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
*Wait By The River - Lord Huron
"If I can't change the weather
Maybe I can change your mind
If we can't be together
What's the point of life?
If we can't be together
I will leave this world behind
If I can't touch your body
Can I touch the sky?"
𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩/𝙎𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙩|𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
**A Sadness Runs Through Him - The Hoosiers
"Time and again boys are raised to be men,
Impatient they start, fearful at the end.
But here was a man mourning tomorrow,
Who drank, but finally drowned in his sorrow.
He could not break surface tension,
He looked in the wrong place for redemption.
Don't look at me with those eyes,
I tried to unheave the ties.
Turn back the time that drew him,
But he couldn't be saved,
A sadness runs through him."
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
**Great White Bear - Dear Reader
"Oh, what a fix they're in,
Oh, what a terrible sin,
Oh, what a fix they're in,
Oh, what a terrible sinister game
The hunter did play
To give them the hope
That they could get away
When biding his time
He did wait down the line
To bring a disaster
On their youthful dreams of escape"
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
*"Personal" - Stars
"Sorry to be heavy,
But heavy is the cost,
Heavy is the cost."
𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙎𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝘼𝙐. 𝙏𝙬𝙤 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙣𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩. 𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨.
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
*In Cold Blood - Alt J
"01110011,
Crying zeros and I'm hearing 111s."
𝘼𝙣𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙞𝙙/𝘼𝙄 𝙭 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡.
𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙨 𝙖 𝙢𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙨? 𝙎𝙘𝙞-𝙛𝙞 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝘼𝙄/𝘼𝙣𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙞𝙙𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙙.
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
“I thought I'd met you once or twice,
But that was just because the dabs were nice,
And opening up my mind.
Showing me consciousness is primary in the universe
And I had a revelation.
I'll be your child if you insist
I mean, if it was you that made my body
You probably shouldn't have made me atheist”
𝙂𝙤𝙙/𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 𝙭 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡.
𝙂𝙤𝙙/𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 𝙭 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡
𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 𝙭 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡.
*The Other Side Of Paradise - Glass Animals
“When I was young and stupid
My love left to be a rocking roll star.
He told, “Please don’t worry.”
Wise little smile that spoke so safely.”
𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛𝙡𝙮, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙤. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙚, 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙖 𝙤𝙣𝙚-𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙨𝙩. 𝙂𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙞’. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽, 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙙, 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼’𝙨 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨, 𝙨𝙤, 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣. 𝙃𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧, 𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙡𝙨 𝙗𝙮, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙤𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡, 𝙖𝙗𝙧𝙪𝙥𝙩𝙡𝙮, 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙚𝙛𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙. 𝙔𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽, 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙤𝙧, 𝙢𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙖, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙨, 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙, 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙢𝙚, 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝙄𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙬𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙠, 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩 𝙗𝙮. 𝙄𝙣 𝙖 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙗𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤, 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙤, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙠. 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙛𝙖𝙧 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙣?
*Like Real People Do - Hozier
"I knew that look dear
Eyes always seeking
Was there in someone
That dug long ago
So I will not ask you
Why you were creeping
In some sad way, I already know.
I will not ask you where you came from
I will not ask you and neither would you."
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
*Cane Shuga - Glass Animals
"Burn through my love
Just like your drugs
I've had quite enough
Or lack thereof."
𝘼 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩/𝙨𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙭 𝙄𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
**Craving Unravel - Jonathan Young {Cover}
"𝙄'𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣
𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.
𝙀𝙣𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝙙𝙞𝙚.
𝙎𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙄'𝙢 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚, 𝙪𝙣𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙄'𝙢 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚, 𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪."
Cryptid/Supernatural/Monstrous being/Previous Experiment|Either a former friend/partner, or alternatively someone they've met and connected with.
Can incorporate red string of fate into this.
I have a lot of ideas for this, I mean a lot.
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
The Beers - The Front Bottoms
"There's Beer,
In coffee mugs, water bottles, and soda cups.
And it's clear, as the windows I came through,
That you,
Are in one of those moods.
And I am in one of them too.
And it's hard, to communicate, anything.
I'm holding on to hope I'm sure was never even there."
𝙀𝙭|𝙀𝙭 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼, 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽'𝙨 𝙚𝙭, 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙, 𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡. 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘽, 𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙮, 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘼 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝙈𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 {𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡} 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨.
*You Can Be The Boss - Lana Del Rey
He had a cigarette with his number on it,
He gave it over to me, "Do you want it?"
I knew it was wrong but I palmed it.
I saved it, I waited, I called it.
The liquor on your lips, the liquor on your lips,
The liquor on your lips makes you dangerous.
I knew it was wrong, I'm beyond it,
I tried to be strong but I lost it.
You taste like the Fourth of July
Malt liquor on your breath, my, my.
𝘾𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙭 𝙊𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙧
𝘽𝙖𝙙 𝙭 𝙂𝙤𝙤𝙙
𝙎𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙧.
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
*The Night We Met - Lord Huron
"I am not the only traveler,
Who has not repaid his debt.
I've been searching for a trail to follow again.
Take me back to the night we met.
And then I can tell myself,
What the hell I'm supposed to do.
And then I can tell myself,
Not to ride along with you.
I had all and then most of you,
Some and now none of you,
Take me back to the night we met.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do
Haunted by the ghost of you
Oh, take me back to the night we met"
Demon|Demon Slayer
Demon|Angel
Demon|Mortal/Cultist
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
*Wait By The River - Lord Huron
"If I can't change the weather
Maybe I can change your mind
If we can't be together
What's the point of life?
If we can't be together
I will leave this world behind
If I can't touch your body
Can I touch the sky?"
𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩/𝙎𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙩|𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
**A Sadness Runs Through Him - The Hoosiers
"Time and again boys are raised to be men,
Impatient they start, fearful at the end.
But here was a man mourning tomorrow,
Who drank, but finally drowned in his sorrow.
He could not break surface tension,
He looked in the wrong place for redemption.
Don't look at me with those eyes,
I tried to unheave the ties.
Turn back the time that drew him,
But he couldn't be saved,
A sadness runs through him."
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
**Great White Bear - Dear Reader
"Oh, what a fix they're in,
Oh, what a terrible sin,
Oh, what a fix they're in,
Oh, what a terrible sinister game
The hunter did play
To give them the hope
That they could get away
When biding his time
He did wait down the line
To bring a disaster
On their youthful dreams of escape"
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
*"Personal" - Stars
"Sorry to be heavy,
But heavy is the cost,
Heavy is the cost."
𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙎𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝘼𝙐. 𝙏𝙬𝙤 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙣𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩. 𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨.
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
*In Cold Blood - Alt J
"01110011,
Crying zeros and I'm hearing 111s."
𝘼𝙣𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙞𝙙/𝘼𝙄 𝙭 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡.
𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙨 𝙖 𝙢𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙨? 𝙎𝙘𝙞-𝙛𝙞 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝘼𝙄/𝘼𝙣𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙞𝙙𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙙.
𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. {𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙.}
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐮𝐦 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝, 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲-𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐲 ‘𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜’ 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐎𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟? 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞?
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𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟒.𝟎 𝐠𝐩𝐚, 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐭, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫. 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟐.𝟎 𝐠𝐩𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐮𝐩. 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠?
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𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐜, 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐬 !!! 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫.
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𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤-𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞’𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 … 𝐨𝐡, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬!!! 𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.
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𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐀 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥. 𝐲𝐞𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 / 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 / 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.
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𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝟐 𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞. 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 – 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐬/𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐫 & 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐞 – 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐬. 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚’𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚, 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐬.
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𝐰𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐬, 𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝟏𝟏:𝟓𝟗𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲.
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𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬/𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬: 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛. 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 (𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚’𝐬) 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛, 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
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𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧. 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛, 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞. 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚’𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧
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𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚. 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫, 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 ‘𝐜𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲’ 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞.
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𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐩, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲-𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛, 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬. 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.
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𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟒.𝟎 𝐠𝐩𝐚, 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐭, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫. 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟐.𝟎 𝐠𝐩𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐮𝐩. 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠?
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𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐜, 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐬 !!! 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫.
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𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤-𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞’𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 … 𝐨𝐡, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬!!! 𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.
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𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐀 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥. 𝐲𝐞𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 / 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 / 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.
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𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝟐 𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞. 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 – 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐬/𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐫 & 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐞 – 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐬. 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚’𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚, 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐬.
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𝐰𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐬, 𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝟏𝟏:𝟓𝟗𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲.
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𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬/𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬: 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛. 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 (𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚’𝐬) 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛, 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
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𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧. 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛, 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞. 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚’𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧
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𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚. 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫, 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 ‘𝐜𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲’ 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞.
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𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐩, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲-𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛, 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬. 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.
𝕎𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕤
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A gale that bore frigidity bit at his extremities, to the bone or so it felt and Elias cursed beneath his breath, which expelled a wispy, vaporous cloud spiraling into the cutting air. Not even his gloved fingers knew freedom from the sharp nip.
Moreover, Elias found himself reflecting, having completed business at a time suitable to his liking. Ole Sky-vine, where satisfied clients remembered their biases only when backs had turned from each other and the transaction born from coveting an inebriation met its end.
That was when the yawning schism between the impoverished and the affluent flourished again. Akin to weeds that grew before festering and blooming once more on its remnants in a circle of continuity. Those youth born prosperous grew to detest the poor, older generations sowing the seeds of such. Here, the wolves ate their young.
However, there lay a convoluted beauty within Elias's line of work which saw him connecting with individuals from all avenues of life. The latest, and last being a lad clad in a tweed three-piece, complete with the sheen of black Oxfords shined to finish and a watch lined with tricklings of gold.
All in all, it did not take much scrutinization to tell the man sang exuberance from head to toe.
Oh, and how that wristwatch was a temptress, indeed; however, Elias did not steal from paying clients, if they were in good standing, at least.
Ah, and yet Elias held inclinations towards remaining a blur amidst these dealings, dressed so to obscure his economic standing, not outfitted to match stereotypes. Although his attire did not propagate a sense of overabundance, it did enough to gratify his wealthier clients. A requirement, lest he attracted the attention of a traipsing police officer, better he did not resemble the common descriptor of a Rockie. Or anyone who might display an inkling that they were up to no good. Which, in actuality, was his constant state of being. Did not mean he could not deceive the public in regards to that, wool over the eyes and such.
With a cigarette suspended between two practiced fingers, Elias forged ahead through the bitter frost, teeth chattering between long drags. Yes, Elias loathed the cold. Furthermore, he near enough held a sensitivity to it with his emaciated frame, bony prominences offering him scarce fragments of protection against these elements, leaving, of course, the fraction of sprawling warmth beneath his winter-wear precious.
Ah, how he pined to settle down in a tranquil location with the comforts of isolation. Alongside, of course, the delectability of a high. A straightforward yearning, yet the ease of acquisition seemed elusive when life bustled around him.
Regardless, flicking the rusted gear of his lighter, he bore a flame to kiss the end of his cigarette. Which, to his chagrin, appeared to maintain resistance, staying lit due to the relentless gusts of wind.
In truth, he ought to go back to Clifford Heights, returning the bottles of prescription medication to their proper place of hiding. However, Elias found it strenuous and burdensome to pivot around and do such.
The insatiable beast known as hunger began to gnaw at him, tormenting him, urging him to binge. Just another reason to get high; he could focus on that as opposed to the dreaded sensation of wanting to devour a whole meal. With a viewpoint distorted by what he saw in the mirror, hunger left him miserly and bounded by guilt.
No one deals drugs if they fit in the confining and well-structured, unbudgeable box society conceived for those labeled "normal."
Furthermore, despite a stoicism in his countenance, Elias's nerves were frayed, becoming threadbare by each lapsing minute.
Aware of the reasoning, sourced from a letter addressed from the residence in which his Grandfather- a bad memory- dwelled. For now, Elias strived to suppress the remembrance until it dissipated and slipped from his mind like granules of sand sifting through an hourglass although he could not shake the perturbation.
While it was true, he tiptoed on a taut rope, and his woes were both mountainous and continual, he declined with a fervency to accept any aid from the bastard. A given, since Philip was manipulative, and the cyclic nature did not allure him.
Regardless, focalization upon another subject would help. So Elias toyed with an unlabeled bottle tucked within his jacket pocket, the rattling of the medications proving soothing in a peculiar way. Akin to a lullaby. Despite their lack of labels, Elias knew which drug was which. Each had an indicator of a sort, be it a symbol to the very form of the pill. Despite it being illegal, he prided himself on being a good dealer, and an even better thief.
Of course, he had hoped for something more, unexplainable and better, enigmatic almost, yet one must play the hand life deals them, even if with complicated cards. In the meanwhile, so consumed by his ruminations and pondering, Elias's foot went straight through a weak layer of ice. Thus, fracturing it so that it dampened it with the gelid water that snared him.
"God damn it."
Wincing as the stinging bite of cold surged through him like a parasite, Elias reached into his boot, denoting his sodden sock with an explicative. This blunder is where being lost in musings instead of being analytical of surroundings gets one, a foot deep into the cruel, lapping waters of a glaciated lake.
Beyond exasperated, Elias shook his foot as if to shake the freeze and increase circulation. Had anyone seen his blunder? Having traversed away from the mass of humanity by the accord of his own feet, he hoped fortune favored him in not looking like a jackass publicly speaking.
To his dismay, two women were adjacent to him, one whose ebony locks made a stark contrast between the ivory purity of the snow beneath her. The other stood, looking downwards as if engaging in conversations and speaking utterances Elias was too far to discern.
While one of the girls he knew naught, the one with noire tumbling, tendrils he knew in a unique, yet intriguing, cocktail of friendship and business combined.
Damned, if she did not look stoned.
Time as a dealer versed him in the cues of intoxication rendered by alcohol and narcotics, or perhaps an accumulation of both. Visage alone was enough to unravel the inquiry of someone's sobriety.
Almost forgetting his drenched foot, Elias ambled towards the two, humored, a wry grin, minute, playing on his features. Never had he ran into Boulevard outside of a transaction, it seemed fate made it so never would they meet unless it was to delve into drugs. Although, that changed now.
"Well, well, well Boulevard and-?"
Idling, he studied the other girl, and she looked like the pinnacle of sobriety, so, he imagined Boulevard had not shared.
"I don't believe I've met nor seen you in town. Either way, I'm Elias, a- friend, of Boulevard's."
Granted an allowance to exit the perimeters of the facility to which he knew himself bound by the behest of an enigmatic higher-up amongst government ranks. A mystifying figure that went by a coined moniker of "The Fetcher.'
For the time being, Eli knew only rumors and gossip, and that fed him little in regards to valuable information.
Moreover, putting that aside, Elias found himself free again.
Before being ushered away, they outfitted him with a snug and vexatious collar. Of course, the collar served as, from what Elias inferred, a device engineered to track each one of his very movements. To his ire and chagrin, a sharp, biting shock stung him should he traverse further than the designated zones to which his imprisoners sanctioned.
Damn, how often, indeed, had he ran the metaphorical ball and chain through a multitude of trials defined by persistence. If only to find the irksome hunk of metal to be both impenetrable and impossible to dupe.
Ah, such was the life of a government dog. All in all, what is a dog without his muzzle and leash? Without the ability to give an instantaneous heel when commanded? Without fangs suitable to strike down the foes of his master?
To his disdain, Eli had risen to become a favored pet of the government- a tool utilized with a singular, primary purpose, and this was to annihilate cryptids.
Indeed, molded to fit the whims of the government. As if sculpted by an artist with preferential for the macabre. One of whom that damned him to a fate not enviable nor one to pine after. Regardless, as Elias ambled down a dilapidated sidewalk, his lips twisted into a sneer of utter revulsion. Furthermore, musing on how uncomprehending- how fucking oblivious- the mass of humanity was.
As his mood was fractious, he averted eyes to the occasional passerby in a glower with no residual pity.
An endless hunger panged in his core. Gnawing away, festering- and being amidst those that retained normalcy only exacerbated it until he felt his skin begin to crawl and itch. However, if he were to act upon or fancy the instinctual urges that roused beneath his surface, he would meet the electric touch of the smothering collar. So, in that end, he had taught himself to maintain composure, no matter the creeping insatiable void within him.
Although should he fulfill the requirements of the operation given to him by designation, the reward was what he coveted most. Although, the sanguine liquid so essential to his being never quite fit the specifications of his inclinations, instead, becoming more akin to that of meager table scraps.
Why would the government that utilized him as a tool to suit their twisted ideologies - the very same collective that fragmented his trust- care about what contended his longings?
Either way, he jolted his ruminating mind back to the task at hand, which had proven to pique his intrigue.
The government deemed it a necessity to silence fellow cryptids through the embrace of death unless chosen for experimentation. As such, Elias oft faced foes so alike it became mundane after a certain point. Of course, with this assignment, his quarry was, in particular, a rare breed of cryptid. A necromancer, to be specific, and despite his reluctance to play the part of a pawn, he found himself nearing exuberant to meet the fellow of which he sought. A great pity indeed that it would only end in bloodshed. Most certainly tragic, especially since Elias would have savored scrutinizing and formulating inquiries regarding the victim's exact nature and skill behind his necromancy.
Alas, the government did not allocate time for interrogation, only for the hunt itself.
In regards to the hunt, Elias found himself nearing the destination where his prey awaited, proceeding to an apartment complex. While the trek to this complex was lengthy at best, Eli did not feel wearied nor diminished in energy. After all, his innate strength gave him the capability to journey long distances without suffering from the hindering complications a human might.
Given that it was the eve, Elias might go as far to state an invigoration held him, a particular shade of energy coursing through him that bordered on manic.
Clad in black, he blended into the darkness wreathing him, only furthering his elation.
Regardless of his pointed viewpoint on his "masters," Elias did, in thoroughness, procure a grand gratification from hunting assigned quarry. Beneath the splendor of the silvery moon, it seemed to solidify to him, that at this moment, he lavished in what freedom would taste like, so close yet so far.
Putting the fascinating idea of being freed from his shackles aside, Elias came to an abrupt halt at a unit that displayed the numerals given to indicate the correct address.
So, this was the residence that a supposed necromancer resided in, perhaps not the imagery one would envision.
Despite holding within its confines a rarity, in stark, it lacked in anything engrossing to its exterior. Regardless, Elias tested his weight against the door, calculative and knowing it to be a weak barrier against the brunt of his impending force.
Without hesitance, Elias collided his body into the frame of the door, demolishing it into mere shatterings of its former self. All in all, the least problematic and lesser task of his duties.
For the time being, Eli knew only rumors and gossip, and that fed him little in regards to valuable information.
Moreover, putting that aside, Elias found himself free again.
Before being ushered away, they outfitted him with a snug and vexatious collar. Of course, the collar served as, from what Elias inferred, a device engineered to track each one of his very movements. To his ire and chagrin, a sharp, biting shock stung him should he traverse further than the designated zones to which his imprisoners sanctioned.
Damn, how often, indeed, had he ran the metaphorical ball and chain through a multitude of trials defined by persistence. If only to find the irksome hunk of metal to be both impenetrable and impossible to dupe.
Ah, such was the life of a government dog. All in all, what is a dog without his muzzle and leash? Without the ability to give an instantaneous heel when commanded? Without fangs suitable to strike down the foes of his master?
To his disdain, Eli had risen to become a favored pet of the government- a tool utilized with a singular, primary purpose, and this was to annihilate cryptids.
Indeed, molded to fit the whims of the government. As if sculpted by an artist with preferential for the macabre. One of whom that damned him to a fate not enviable nor one to pine after. Regardless, as Elias ambled down a dilapidated sidewalk, his lips twisted into a sneer of utter revulsion. Furthermore, musing on how uncomprehending- how fucking oblivious- the mass of humanity was.
As his mood was fractious, he averted eyes to the occasional passerby in a glower with no residual pity.
An endless hunger panged in his core. Gnawing away, festering- and being amidst those that retained normalcy only exacerbated it until he felt his skin begin to crawl and itch. However, if he were to act upon or fancy the instinctual urges that roused beneath his surface, he would meet the electric touch of the smothering collar. So, in that end, he had taught himself to maintain composure, no matter the creeping insatiable void within him.
Although should he fulfill the requirements of the operation given to him by designation, the reward was what he coveted most. Although, the sanguine liquid so essential to his being never quite fit the specifications of his inclinations, instead, becoming more akin to that of meager table scraps.
Why would the government that utilized him as a tool to suit their twisted ideologies - the very same collective that fragmented his trust- care about what contended his longings?
Either way, he jolted his ruminating mind back to the task at hand, which had proven to pique his intrigue.
The government deemed it a necessity to silence fellow cryptids through the embrace of death unless chosen for experimentation. As such, Elias oft faced foes so alike it became mundane after a certain point. Of course, with this assignment, his quarry was, in particular, a rare breed of cryptid. A necromancer, to be specific, and despite his reluctance to play the part of a pawn, he found himself nearing exuberant to meet the fellow of which he sought. A great pity indeed that it would only end in bloodshed. Most certainly tragic, especially since Elias would have savored scrutinizing and formulating inquiries regarding the victim's exact nature and skill behind his necromancy.
Alas, the government did not allocate time for interrogation, only for the hunt itself.
In regards to the hunt, Elias found himself nearing the destination where his prey awaited, proceeding to an apartment complex. While the trek to this complex was lengthy at best, Eli did not feel wearied nor diminished in energy. After all, his innate strength gave him the capability to journey long distances without suffering from the hindering complications a human might.
Given that it was the eve, Elias might go as far to state an invigoration held him, a particular shade of energy coursing through him that bordered on manic.
Clad in black, he blended into the darkness wreathing him, only furthering his elation.
Regardless of his pointed viewpoint on his "masters," Elias did, in thoroughness, procure a grand gratification from hunting assigned quarry. Beneath the splendor of the silvery moon, it seemed to solidify to him, that at this moment, he lavished in what freedom would taste like, so close yet so far.
Putting the fascinating idea of being freed from his shackles aside, Elias came to an abrupt halt at a unit that displayed the numerals given to indicate the correct address.
So, this was the residence that a supposed necromancer resided in, perhaps not the imagery one would envision.
Despite holding within its confines a rarity, in stark, it lacked in anything engrossing to its exterior. Regardless, Elias tested his weight against the door, calculative and knowing it to be a weak barrier against the brunt of his impending force.
Without hesitance, Elias collided his body into the frame of the door, demolishing it into mere shatterings of its former self. All in all, the least problematic and lesser task of his duties.
With a scintilla of humor, I analyzed Rose when she plucked the cigarette from my fingers fiddling with it before distinguishing my handwriting etched into one of its sides. Afterward, sputtered laughter escaped her once she discerned what the print read, and I reckoned recognition at once struck.
A phone number, an indicator of my fascination, bestowed with a particular uniqueness suiting of my craftiness and I discern how flustered she is as her cheeks begin to redden.
In mentioning my unorthodox approach, I could not contain a kittenish grin. Out of habit, I ran fingers through the ebony tendrils of my hair where the wind mussed it to tame it — a bit of a fruitless endeavor. However, the idling of my hands did not match the speed of my diminishing high, and, I grappled with meeting the gravity of sobriety.
The attempt to both obscure my come down and retain flirtatiousness proved arduous. However, it was something I acclimatized to long ago.
As it stood, I surmised she knew of neither my inebriation nor my crash from the skies of ecstasy. Moreover, I preferred it remained as such. Especially since it did not take keen intellect to conclude there was distinct implausibility she delved into the depths of drug usage. Thus, I would face disapproval, the sort I did not want to rouse any kindling of if not to avoid whatever outcome it would stir. At the moment, methodical, I played my hand with all intents to obscure habits that would lead the stray lamb from the flock to turn a nose. What fun would it be if she knew everything about me with immediacy?
Indeed, it emanated from her that she did not oft attend parties nor engage in the use of illicit substances.
"You don't smoke, and you don't take numbers, so, why pocket that cigarette?"
Perhaps I knew the answer, and yet, I fabricated and wove an utter emotive of being mystified in response. Of course, my inquiry reflected this feigned lack of cognizance.
All in all, I ascertained razzing her a bit further to be worthy of the humor gained. Beyond that, she did look adorable with her complexion florid.
Regardless, when she articulated incredulity of my weariness of what transpired back inside, I hummed aloud before giving a hefty shrug of my shoulders.
"See one party and you've seen them all, kitten."
Not that I, in particular, received the invitation letter for this party- no, I had business here to settle, and beyond that, I stayed in the know of events held in extravagance akin to this.
Indeed, ivory marble flooring with rooms embellished so that despite the stifling hoard inside, the house exuded an air of opulence.
When she gave way to a chortle, I almost found it virulent.
So, she saw little of herself, noted.
"Is it such a reach I find you curious amongst all the other girls here only to get wasted?"
Afterward, I chuckled and gave her a wink.
"Three letters too many, I'm glad you'll tolerate Rose because it's what I would call you even if you despised it."
That was always how I operated with names, fickle things- I often concocted nicknames for others that suited their visage and 'Rose' fit her like a ring.
Once trepidation emerged from her in regards to tagging alongside me, I sobered in expression, although the glimmer of mirth never left my eyes.
In my perspective, it seemed she engaged in a tug-of-war on how to proceed with my proposition. Yes or no, yes or no.
Ah, and it did not dazzle me that she retained reluctance, and I dare not push, however, I could not force myself to quieten.
"Sure, you don't know squat about me, yet I can tell you likely don't play it fast and loose too often, so, why not try? Anyway, routines are stale, break them, or-"
Now, I dawdled, looked at the vast star-speckled sky, inspired crisp air.
"Remain here; I give you options, not commands."
At that moment, I felt a relentless itch to slink away, with her in tow, if my preference mattered. Furthermore, I pondered that when I find a moment amidst this all, I will do another line and intrigue flourished on if I could manage to get Rose to partake. Unlikely.
If anything, she would be obstinate, and despite the dimming of my high, there is no lack of entertainment in our banter. All in all, differing it up by conversing with someone so varying in inclinations than me is stimulating enough I can tolerate doing without the pursuit of intoxication. Even my migraine had dissipated.
"What's it going to be, Rose? To go, or to stay?"
A phone number, an indicator of my fascination, bestowed with a particular uniqueness suiting of my craftiness and I discern how flustered she is as her cheeks begin to redden.
In mentioning my unorthodox approach, I could not contain a kittenish grin. Out of habit, I ran fingers through the ebony tendrils of my hair where the wind mussed it to tame it — a bit of a fruitless endeavor. However, the idling of my hands did not match the speed of my diminishing high, and, I grappled with meeting the gravity of sobriety.
The attempt to both obscure my come down and retain flirtatiousness proved arduous. However, it was something I acclimatized to long ago.
As it stood, I surmised she knew of neither my inebriation nor my crash from the skies of ecstasy. Moreover, I preferred it remained as such. Especially since it did not take keen intellect to conclude there was distinct implausibility she delved into the depths of drug usage. Thus, I would face disapproval, the sort I did not want to rouse any kindling of if not to avoid whatever outcome it would stir. At the moment, methodical, I played my hand with all intents to obscure habits that would lead the stray lamb from the flock to turn a nose. What fun would it be if she knew everything about me with immediacy?
Indeed, it emanated from her that she did not oft attend parties nor engage in the use of illicit substances.
"You don't smoke, and you don't take numbers, so, why pocket that cigarette?"
Perhaps I knew the answer, and yet, I fabricated and wove an utter emotive of being mystified in response. Of course, my inquiry reflected this feigned lack of cognizance.
All in all, I ascertained razzing her a bit further to be worthy of the humor gained. Beyond that, she did look adorable with her complexion florid.
Regardless, when she articulated incredulity of my weariness of what transpired back inside, I hummed aloud before giving a hefty shrug of my shoulders.
"See one party and you've seen them all, kitten."
Not that I, in particular, received the invitation letter for this party- no, I had business here to settle, and beyond that, I stayed in the know of events held in extravagance akin to this.
Indeed, ivory marble flooring with rooms embellished so that despite the stifling hoard inside, the house exuded an air of opulence.
When she gave way to a chortle, I almost found it virulent.
So, she saw little of herself, noted.
"Is it such a reach I find you curious amongst all the other girls here only to get wasted?"
Afterward, I chuckled and gave her a wink.
"Three letters too many, I'm glad you'll tolerate Rose because it's what I would call you even if you despised it."
That was always how I operated with names, fickle things- I often concocted nicknames for others that suited their visage and 'Rose' fit her like a ring.
Once trepidation emerged from her in regards to tagging alongside me, I sobered in expression, although the glimmer of mirth never left my eyes.
In my perspective, it seemed she engaged in a tug-of-war on how to proceed with my proposition. Yes or no, yes or no.
Ah, and it did not dazzle me that she retained reluctance, and I dare not push, however, I could not force myself to quieten.
"Sure, you don't know squat about me, yet I can tell you likely don't play it fast and loose too often, so, why not try? Anyway, routines are stale, break them, or-"
Now, I dawdled, looked at the vast star-speckled sky, inspired crisp air.
"Remain here; I give you options, not commands."
At that moment, I felt a relentless itch to slink away, with her in tow, if my preference mattered. Furthermore, I pondered that when I find a moment amidst this all, I will do another line and intrigue flourished on if I could manage to get Rose to partake. Unlikely.
If anything, she would be obstinate, and despite the dimming of my high, there is no lack of entertainment in our banter. All in all, differing it up by conversing with someone so varying in inclinations than me is stimulating enough I can tolerate doing without the pursuit of intoxication. Even my migraine had dissipated.
"What's it going to be, Rose? To go, or to stay?"
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