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W h y can't I fit the Bee Movie Script here, mods?

HOLLERING FOR ROLEPLAYS FOREVER
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𝐈'𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇 𝐔 𝐍 𝐓 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡. 𝐁𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥, 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐈 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐲, 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐈 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬. 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐎𝐎𝐂 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐀𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐭. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬.
𝐒𝐨, 𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 "𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲" 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧.

【𝐈𝐟 𝐰𝐞'𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐏𝐌 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 : ' (】
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☾☾ 𝙄'𝙢 25.

☾☾ 𝙐𝙣𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙮𝙚𝙙, 𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙡𝙮, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚-𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚.

☾☾ 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙤𝙠𝙖𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙣𝙤 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚.


☾☾ 𝙄 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩𝙨, 𝙬𝙤𝙖𝙝.


☾☾ 𝙄'𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚 𝙊𝙊𝘾. 𝙄 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙟𝙤𝙠𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩, 𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙡𝙮.


☾☾ 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣, 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙨. 𝙄'𝙢 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝙖 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙧 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙝 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙢𝙚.


☾☾ 𝙄'𝙢 𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙙-𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙚 𝙦𝙪𝙤𝙩𝙖. 𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚. 𝙍𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙗𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙮. 𝙍𝙋 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙝𝙤𝙗𝙗𝙮, 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.


☾☾ 𝙄'𝙢 𝙖 𝙝𝙪𝙜𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧, 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙧. 𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙡𝙡 100 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙚.


☾☾ 𝙄'𝙢 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩. 𝙄 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙬 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩. 𝙄 𝙖𝙡𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙬 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩. 𝙃𝙖𝙧, 𝙝𝙖𝙧.


☾☾ 𝙄 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙨 𝙤𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙙𝙤 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚.


☾☾ 𝙄 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙣-𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙤 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙤, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙭𝙢 𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙜.


☾☾ 𝙄 𝙥𝙪𝙩 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙚𝙛𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚. 𝙃𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙧 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙒𝘾. 𝙌𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙦𝙪𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙮, 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙞𝙛 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙧 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚. 𝙄 𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙖 𝙗𝙞𝙩 𝙗𝙮 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚, 𝙨𝙤 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙡𝙡 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙖 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮, 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙢𝙚. 𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙩𝙝. 𝙃𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧, 𝙄 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚-𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙯𝙞𝙣𝙜.


☾☾ 𝙄'𝙢 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙄'𝙢 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙪𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨. 𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝 𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙨, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙨𝙮.


☾☾ 𝙄 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙤 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙖𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚. 𝙄 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙖 𝙝𝙤𝙗𝙗𝙮𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧 (𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙖 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡, 𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨). 𝙄 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡. 𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙨.


☾☾ 𝙄'𝙢 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝙄'𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖 𝙣𝙖𝙜. 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙥𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪. 𝙄'𝙢 𝙖 𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚, 𝙨𝙤 𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤. 𝘼𝙨 𝙖 𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙧, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙙-𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠.
↞↞↞↞↞↞↞↞↞ დ𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚.

☾☾ 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 ;
☾☾ 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

☾☾ 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙗𝙖𝙡 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧 𝙎𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨

☾☾ 𝙏𝙤𝙠𝙮𝙤 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡
𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙪𝙥 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 "*" 𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙.
𝙄𝙩'𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙎𝙪𝙗𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙪𝙥 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙨, 𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙭.


☾☾ *𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩|𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩, 𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩|𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩, 𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩|𝙎𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧

☾☾ *𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙙 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙁𝙖𝙩𝙚.


☾☾ *𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙨.


☾☾ *𝘾𝙪𝙡𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩|𝘿𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣


☾☾ *𝘾𝙪𝙡𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩|𝙂𝙤𝙙


☾☾ *𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩|𝙇𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩|𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩, 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩|𝙊𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙎𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝘽𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜


☾☾ 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙨, 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚? 𝙊𝙧 𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙖𝙨 𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝.


☾☾ *𝘾𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 {𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙚𝙛, 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙩𝙚, 𝙚𝙩𝙘.}|𝙊𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙧 {𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙪𝙥𝙩 𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙩}


☾☾ *𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮|𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙣, 𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙨, 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮. 𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩.

☾☾ 𝙀𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙨?

𝙎☾☾ 𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙃𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙡 𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙖, 𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮, 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜. 𝙂𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙨.

☾☾ *𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨! 𝘽𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙩.

☾☾ 𝙏𝙤𝙭𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥𝙨 𝙤𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙤𝙧 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝.

☾☾ 𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙤𝙧|𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙤𝙧 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩-𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙮𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙧-𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜.

☾☾ 𝙎𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝘼𝙐𝙨, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠, 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚?

☾☾ 𝙍𝙞𝙫𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙍𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚.

☾☾ 𝙀𝙭|𝙀𝙭

☾☾ 𝘾𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙡𝙤𝙞𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙨

☾☾ 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙧|𝙉𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙡 𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣, 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙧|𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙧

☾☾ 𝘼𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙣|𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣

☾☾ 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣 𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧| 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣 𝙃𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧

☾☾ *𝙆𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙧|𝙆𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙙

☾☾ 𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡|𝘿𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣

☾☾ 𝙈𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧|𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣

☾☾ 𝙄𝙢𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡|𝙄𝙢𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡

☾☾ 𝙄𝙢𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡|𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣

☾☾ *𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧|𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣

☾☾ 𝙀𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩|𝙎𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩

☾☾ 𝙀𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩|𝙀𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩

☾☾ 𝙋𝙤𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙧|𝙐𝙣𝙥𝙤𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙧

☾☾ 𝙊𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙|𝙊𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙮. {𝙄𝙙𝙚𝙖 𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙤𝙣𝙚. 𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙊𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚, 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙩, 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙗𝙪𝙙𝙨.}

☾☾ 𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙|"𝙉𝙚𝙪𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡" (𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡)

☾☾ *𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙤𝙧| 𝙄𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙤𝙧

☾☾ *𝙒𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙬𝙤𝙡𝙛|𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣

☾☾ 𝙒𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙬𝙤𝙡𝙛|𝙒𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙬𝙤𝙡𝙛

☾☾ 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

☾☾ 𝘿𝙧𝙪𝙜 𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝘿𝙧𝙪𝙜 𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩

☾☾ 𝘿𝙧𝙪𝙜 𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙭 𝙎𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧

☾☾ 𝘿𝙧𝙪𝙜 𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩 𝙭 𝘿𝙧𝙪𝙜 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩

☾☾ 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙄𝙢𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡

☾☾ 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙧 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣

☾☾ 𝘼𝙥𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙮𝙥𝙨𝙚 𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙤𝙧 𝙭 𝘼𝙥𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙮𝙥𝙨𝙚 𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙤𝙧

☾☾ 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙭 𝙊𝙪𝙩𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙩

☾☾ 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙧 𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣

☾☾ 𝘿𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙭 𝘿𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚

(* 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.
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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 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙠 𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙮 𝙞𝙩, 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙. 𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘, 𝙨𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩𝙨.

*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.
Now I'm turning to dust in a world that's twisted,
Don't come searching when I go missing.
Close your eyes or just try to look away,
Don't want to hurt you.
We live in a world someone else imagined,
The ghost of what's left of me all but vanished

Remember my heart, how bright I used to shine."
Cryptid/Supernatural/Monstrous being/Previous Experiment|Former friend/partner[/FONT]
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?
↞↞↞↞↞↞↞↞↞
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?
↞↞↞↞↞↞↞↞↞
↞↞↞↞↞↞↞↞↞ დ𝙒𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙨. 𝙏𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙚.


To leave the confines is to sleep with death, to stay in the confines is to wish for death.
Born abnormal, as they said. Perhaps presumptions stemming from stigmas attributed to being an orphan, or rather- Thom's favored theory- set framework structured by an overbearing adoptive "mother" whose compassion echoed hollow, bound by vanity entwined with pity that sickened him, doting only for appearances, not from tender seeds of love.
In regards to his parental relations, if that was all he knew, what would render desire to stay?
'There shall be nothing here to miss, and no one shall miss me.'
A thought- one dripping with vitriol, so saturated with a cynical venomosity. Acute enough that it wavered Thom's focus. All those about him appeared to align with the belief that he lived in a senseless reverie, sundered from reality, yet, if he were to have a say, they lived within an illusion molded by foreboding and mythos, and he grasped conceptions they condemned out of ignorance.

Since youth, Thom felt allured, magnetized, to the world that lay beyond the banal visage of the town, where no strict rules and regulations governed his life nor his dreams; where foliage grew dense, and a provocative sense of mystery flowered and enveloped like ivy. However, forever did the ability to elope eluded him until finally, chance revealed itself and two eves prior he slunk away when all fell into the embrace of sleep, set to venture, brimming with exhilaration in a stark almost humorous opposition to the present tense. Where, for now, Thom floundered with a sliver of regret, utterly lost, pining for the quench of fresh, unsullied water, perhaps accompanied by the warmth of liquor and a hearty meal. To at last curl into bed with promises of comfort a simplistic sleeping bag placed upon frigid earth could not provide.

Regardless of a situation not particularly fortuitous, Thom concluded ambling without aim within the woodlands proved ever more titillating than the mundanity he grew accustomed to. Often had he heard rumorous whispers that spoke of remote villages, landscapes distinct and foreign, beasts that devoured, their hunger perpetual, yet, all Thom unveiled thus far from within the forest were only trees and their littered leaves- green growth as far as the eye could see.
Albeit, traces of life subtly presented themselves as if the undergrowth tucked away secrets of its own. However inconspicuous, Thom noted trodden paths- a sign of humanity, perhaps,- and marks upon the trees he could not decipher.
Coming to a fork amidst a clearing, wearied, Thom settled against a grand oak, whose limbs sprawled skyward.

Well, this is a lovely predicament.

With little in the way of forethought, Thom found himself calling out, his voice reverberating, fragmenting the ghostly silence that seemed to haunt him throughout his trek.

"Hello?"
Chiding himself at once for such a foolish action, Thom shuddered, a peculiar sensation of trepidation beginning to gnaw away at him. What amongst him could he have awoken; fluttering the eyelids of creatures with snarling maws, perhaps?
Moreover, Thom began to reflect if he had made a grave mistake, one of which would lead him to starve in depths where none of those he left behind would find, yet another statistic to be fodder for the local fairytales.
Oh, how new quarries oft led to unfurling opportunities, tantalizing as they were endless, entwined with the high of the pursuit and yet, Alexander found himself lacking any semblance of wonder nor traces of elation. Despite his sizeable distance from Boston, he had been the agent above all chosen for this case. Particularly one of profound renown- this, of course, should have incited an exhilaration of sorts. Perhaps it would have if he knew he could work with more autonomy, however, being sent to another district to take the reigns always pinched nerves and carried the tendency to make everything arduous for all those involved.
An inclination towards a particular shade of mania, if you will, for the job had its benefits, however, and he owed his position to this. Since, overall, Alexander had amassed a reputation of maintaining an unshakeable devotion that might border boundaries befitting the title of "unhealthy,"- although, that was something of which he would dispute with fervency. Regardless, he did not lack in proficiency, and the tenacity landed him a well-known case alongside a free ticket and stay in Boston miles from good, ole New Orleans.

Humoring the satirical, Alexander reflected upon receiving the call, specifically on how he was in a shoddy motel relishing the endings of a high induced by ecstasy mixed with shots of vodka. Remembrances of being curled around his latest indulgence, their bodies tangled with bare flesh more than brushing struck him. Settled adjacent to them on a bedside table his phone began to vibrate, and he had stifled a groan as his partner sniggered, blue eyes piqued with interest.

Dallying fingers trailed his chest.
"Important?"

Sobered in expression, he eyed the girl, her cascading tresses golden in hue and wild from their heated tumble, an appreciable curvature noticeable beneath the almost sheer sheet that veiled her body, her plump lips curved in a coquettish simper. Not the norm in regards to his type, but molly tended to blur the lines for him, and indeed blurred they were.
Damning himself for lack of foresight, Alexander finally fumbled for his phone, outreached fingers trembling- remnants from the high- and recognized the number at once- his boss, of course, rather timely, at that.

"Nothing you need to worry yourself about, it's work. Fortuitous for me, I’m sure."
A sardonic utterance, however, Alexander entertained little in the way of appeal in divulging his life with a lay that would trickle from recollection in a week's worth.
With a sharp inhale and prayer to no god in particular for a collected composure, Alex endeavored to steady his pulsating heart- which seemed to reverberate in his ears in pounding thumps- and overall, not sound utterly wasted as he was.

"Hey, chief."
While a simple greeting, the words came slurred, thick like honey.

"Bad time, Alexander?"
Curt, surely not the response Alex hoped for in regards to the circumstances.

"Nothing terrible with your timing, Lucas, I've had a bit to drink, that's all."
Although, a bit to drink was, well, certainly an understatement.

"A bit?"
There was no excusing that especially probing tone, yet Alexander refused to budge.

"Yes, a bit. Now, it's rather late Lucas, and you only call like this when something needs doing."
With a suppressed giggle, the girl untangled herself from beneath his embrace, swaying her hips to entice as she sauntered to a nearby window, flicking the switch of a lighter and kissing a cigarette to the flame it bore.

"I've got a job for you; however, it is... far from our district."
Calculating, he gave no reply as he hoisted himself off the bed, meeting his affair o' the night to share in the vice of smoking, returning a sliver of a grin as she lit the cigarette he plucked with practiced fingers from the pack between them.

"How far?"
How far, indeed, and who would cover the subject of fees for such a trek?
Matters of a family were a non-issue, there was little he would pine over should he opt to leave. So, why not pursue an opportunity that lay ripe?

"Boston, that far, Alex, expenses paid."
Amusement laced Lucas' voice.

"You had me at expenses paid, alright, I'll take the case."
Not long after the call that eve, he jilted his fling early, floundered home, intoxicated, lavishing in a high, and went to his flat to collect what belongings would prove necessities and scheduled the flight, from there by the morn, he was Boston-bound.
All in all, an uneventful trip spent in the extravagant indulgence of first-class with expensive wines aplenty, yet, once he arrived, his demeanor grew solemn lacking the exuberance held during the evening he received the call. Thoughts of the macabre were gnawing at his core as he prepared to delve into the depths of these murders that afflicted the city like a sickness, permeating airs of dread.

Traversing the city, he noted the bolded print on the newspapers served to arouse further a sense of foreboding among the civilians with woven re-tellings written on The Terror case, queries formulating about when the killer would strike once again, and, in the midst of it all, Alexander found himself centralized within.
Finally arriving, stepping out of a taxi, he heaved an exasperated sigh, glancing towards the building where he would be conducting operations, although, not particularly on his own; not this time around.
Unwilling to dally, he trudged onward, feeling as though he were trekking through thickened mud and slop.
Incognizant to the reception he would receive, the unknown left him nothing beyond a vast realm of pessimism.
Ambling through the doors, nonchalant, Alexander promptly met with a detective with a gruff visage, stoicism keeping his expression leveled.

"Who are you?"
A simple query, although one with tracings of vexation that Alex could scarcely grasp onto, endeavor or not.


"Alexander Thomas, I'm from the FBI, I'm here to assist in the workings of The Terror case, I believe I am to meet with a detective."
Blinking, as if processing the utterance, the officer crossed his arms, and, beyond that stoicism, Alex reckoned there lay buried intrigue.
When eyes trailed to his badge, Alexander flashed it, causing the man to nod, brusque.

"Right, come along, Myers is right this way."

Undeterred by the officer's mannerisms, Alex, quietened by way of rumination of this detective he would be working alongside with, trailed behind, feeling like a lost duckling in a vague sense. An unfamiliarity enveloped him like a gale, threatening to topple his composure, yet, he endured, expression leveled.

"Detective Myers, agent Alexander Thomas is here to see you, I imagine, of course, over the case."
Hints of a tautness Alexander did not quite understand laced his tone.

"Indeed, The Terror case."
Piping in, Alexander put his hands in his pockets, awaiting this detective with a creeping, sprawling interest.
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- one going by a coined moniker of "The Fetcher," Eli found himself free again. Albeit, outfitted with a rather vexatious and snug collar before being ushered away. Of course, the collar served as, from what Elias inferred, a device engineered to track each and every one of his very movements. To his ire and chagrin, a sharp, biting shock derived from an electrical flow emitted from it should he traverse further than the designated zones to which his imprisoners sanctioned him.
Damn, how often, indeed, had he ran the metaphorical ball and chain through a multitude of trials defined by persistence, only to find the irksome hunk of metal to be both impenetrable and impossible to dupe.

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, in honesty, 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, he began to muse on how uncomprehending- how fucking oblivious- the mass of humanity was, eyes averting 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, and yet if he were to act upon or fancy the instinctual urges that roused beneath his surface, he would meet the electric touch of the collar that felt smothering enclasped around his neck. So, in that end, he had taught himself to maintain composure, no matter the sprawling 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. However, the sanguine liquid so essential to his being never quite fit the specifications of his inclinations in particular, instead, more akin to that of meager table scraps.

Why would the government that utilized him as a tool to suit their particular, twisted ideologies and, furthermore, the very same collective that fragmented his trust give a toss about what contended his longings?

Either way, he jolted his ruminating mind back to the task at hand, which had, in fact, proven to pique his intrigue.

As the government deemed it a necessity to silence fellow cryptids through the embrace of death unless chosen to become ensnared within their covert facility, 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, Elias would have savored scrutinizing and formulating inquiries into 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, his innate strength giving 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 and to be beneath the splendor of the silvery moon above seemed to solidify to him, that at this moment, he lavished in what freedom would taste like.

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.
Forging forward through the house, at once, he denoted a peculiar aura in the air, something sinister and foreboding. In an instance, a sense of perturbation tingled the length of Eli's spine, and what he saw next left him awestruck.
In the center of the room, beside a fellow svelte in his form, if not emaciated, was a human, although the energy pulsating in thickening waves from the person was far from human-like. Slobberings of inky hued viscous liquid came tumbling from the being's mouth in a foul spillage, and a guttural noise rumbled in its chest as it leered, focalized on Elias.
As if by an unspoken command, Elias began to lumber forward, however, his footing soon became lost amidst the ebony fluid coating the floor, and he felt himself beginning to tumble, hands grasping at nothingness in a desperate attempt to right his slipping body.

Then, he felt his hand hit a table adorned with a variety of unusual items and, still falling, the piece of furniture came toppling alongside him, crashing with him to the earth.
In the meanwhile, the beast chortled in a distorted, garbled laugh, a flash of light emitted in a circle surrounding it that soon dissipated and faded out, and in a swift, dashing motion, the humanoid began darting around the room.
Taken by befuddlement, and, in admittance, sickened by the liquid now coating his hands, Elias watched on, jaw agape.
"What the fuck is going on here?"
With an enunciated "fuck," he straightened, leaping to his feet, fangs bore as he went to an immediate defensive posture as if he stumbled into the jaws of a trap set by the necromancer before him.

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐲.
 
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Kittenkitten

W h y can't I fit the Bee Movie Script here, mods?
Hello! You seem like someone who has a lot in common with my likes, I'd love to start something with you if you'd be open to do a supernatural m/f RP. c: ((I prefer to start a rp by playing the female role however later I can definitely expand to more diverse characters.)) If not, that's okay!
PM me. <3
 

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