𝒫ℴ𝓇𝒸ℯ𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃

𝙿𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝙰𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚝. 𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 “𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚅𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚕.” 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎.

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𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙲𝚘. 𝙰𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜.

𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍. 𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚢, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑.

𝙵𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔.

𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝙼𝚎 — 𝙿𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 — 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 — 𝙰𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚟𝚎

𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙲𝚘. 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝙲𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚎 —𝙰𝚜𝚔 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

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𝙷𝚎 𝚆𝚊𝚜 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍. 𝙸𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜. 𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛… 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍.

𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟻 😭 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎’𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 (𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚢), 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚗. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚒𝚗, 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚍. 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 — 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚕𝚢 🖤

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚙 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑, 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙. 𝙷𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎, 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝙸𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖.

“𝙷𝚎𝚢,” 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚍, 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍.

𝙸𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 — 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝, 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕 — 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝙶𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚢 𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔, 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛-𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.

“𝙳𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕?” 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍.

“𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚑… 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢. 𝙽𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍.” 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍, 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚐. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚢 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠, 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎.

𝙸𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍.

𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚒𝚛 — 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚠.

“𝙾𝚑,” 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚕𝚢, 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢. “𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎.”

“𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, 𝙸𝚛𝚒𝚜.” 𝙷𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎. “𝚆𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗. 𝚆𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎.”

𝙶𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚡𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚡𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚢.

𝙽𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝙸𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏.

𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚏.

𝚂𝚘𝚘𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙽𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜. 𝙽𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔. 𝙽𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢.

𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚕.

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚘.

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝.

𝚈𝚎𝚝—

𝚄𝚗𝚋𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗, 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚒𝚝𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗—

𝙰 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛.

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎.

𝙽𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎.

𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕.

𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚙 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚜 — 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 — 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔, 𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝.

𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝… 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎.

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝.

𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚍. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝.

𝙷𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚍.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚒𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝙸𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚙, 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍.

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛?

𝙰 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚗?

𝙰 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛?

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 — 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝.

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍.

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.

𝙾𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢.

𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝.

𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎.

𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜:

𝙱𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎.

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 — 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 — 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝.

[leydraw]

Lily Lovebraids ✨✨

I loved my girl so much. 😭✨

[mikage-lilicoco]

Harley & Yarnaby❤

[teebagartzz]

Harley Sawyer art + my human design from last year !! I love seeing everyone’s different versions of human Harley, they’re all so cool 🫶🫶

[ludwigplaytime]

What’s your favourite memory with Poppy, while she was… you know. Properly alive.

“‘Properly’ alive…?” A tic pulls at Elliot’s eye.

There’s a long pause, wherein he seems to be deciding whether or not to bother challenging you.

In the end…

“…We… would sing together. My dear girl. She w— is destined for the stage, I believe.”

I shan’t go into detail— no, you all do not deserve access to such a precious thing.”

But those days, when there were no obligations to work, to education, and it was simply the two of us singing, playing the piano…”

She always shines the brightest, in those memories.”

[paper-starz]

The final night before chapter 5

[porcelain-protocol]

𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙲𝚘. 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝙲𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚎

𝙰𝚜𝚔 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢, 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝙸’𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 🖤 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝙸𝚛𝚒𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚝, 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚜, 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢, 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 “𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏” 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚜 — 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚜 (𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 👀). 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍, 𝚘𝚛 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎, 𝚖𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚋𝚘𝚡 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 ✨

[porcelain-protocol]

𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙹𝙴𝙲𝚃: 𝙱𝙸𝙶𝙶𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝙾𝙳𝙸𝙴𝚂 𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙴𝚇𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟼-𝙱

𝙰𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚜: “𝙸𝚁𝙸𝚂”

𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜: 𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴 — 𝚄𝙽𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙴𝙳

𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝: 𝚅𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴

𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢: 𝙾𝙱𝚂𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙴 — 𝙳𝙾 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝚅𝙾𝙺𝙴

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗.

𝙻𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢’𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 — 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚎, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝙸𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚎. 𝙽𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎. 𝙽𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜. 𝙽𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚜. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 — 𝚊 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚟𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢, 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜.

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝙸𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝. 𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝. 𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚙 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 — 𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗-𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗, 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚢𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜, 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜-𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚕, 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚢. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎.

𝙼𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜… 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝.

𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕. 𝙴𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 — 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝.

𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝, 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢.

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝙹𝚘𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢, 𝙸𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚍. 𝙾𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙰 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 — 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗, 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎, 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚍.

[porcelain-protocol]

𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 𝙲𝙾. — 𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙲𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙷𝙸𝚅𝙴

·̩͙།† ͝ ︶ ͝ ⏝ ͝ ︶ ͝ †། ·̩͙

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚛

𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟼-𝙱 (𝙸𝚛𝚒𝚜)

[porcelain-protocol]

𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙾𝚈𝙴𝙴 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: [𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 / 𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝙳]

𝙰𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙲𝚘. (𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚏𝚏)

𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜: 𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙴 — 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴 𝙵𝙰𝙲𝙸𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈

𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛.

𝚃𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍, 𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚅𝙷𝚂 𝚝𝚊𝚙𝚎. 𝙽𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝙽𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢… 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎.

𝙼𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚝, 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎, 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 — 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙳𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔. 𝙻𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗. 𝚂𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚘. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚏𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚢.

𝙷𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛. 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎… 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚜. 𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎.

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗.

[porcelain-protocol]

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙲𝚘. 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎-𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢’𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚍.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚅𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚕 (𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢)

𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 (𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝) ⚙️

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚅𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚕

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟷 (𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 🖤)

𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝙷𝚎 𝚆𝚊𝚜 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 (𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍. 𝙸𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜. 𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛… 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍.)

[porcelain-protocol]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚅𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚕

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𐙚

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗.

𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙲𝚘. — 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝. 𝙼𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗, 𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕, 𝚘𝚛 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚘𝚛, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛.

𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚎. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖. 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝. 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍. 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚝. 𝚄𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚜. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝.

𝙶𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝚃𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙺𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚢. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚕. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝚃𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚞𝚡𝚞𝚛𝚢. 𝙲𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚛.

𝚂𝚕𝚘𝚠-𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗. 𝚃𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙼𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚢. 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚕. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎… 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎.

[porcelain-protocol]

𝙷𝚒! 𝙸’𝚖 𝙿𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝙿𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎-𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 “𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚅𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚕” 👁️🖤

𝙰 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎:

𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎, 𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚕-𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚢 𝚊𝚝𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜

𝚂𝚕𝚘𝚠-𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚓𝚊𝚖

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚖𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝙰𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐… 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚢

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚞𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜, 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎, 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚢𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠-𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜… 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎.