#the void undertale

[the-river-person]

☼︎♓︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ 💧︎□︎◆︎●︎ [River of the Soul]

❄︎☼︎✌︎✞︎☜︎☹︎ ❄︎☟︎☼︎⚐︎🕆︎☝︎☟︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ✞︎⚐︎✋︎👎︎ ✋︎☠︎ 💧︎✌︎☞︎☜︎❄︎✡︎ ✌︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ☼︎✋︎✞︎☜︎☼︎☞︎⚐︎☹︎😐︎ 👎︎⚐︎📪︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎⚐︎🕆︎❄︎ ❄︎☜︎👍︎☟︎☠︎⚐︎☹︎⚐︎☝︎✋︎👍︎✌︎☹︎ 💣︎✌︎☼︎✞︎☜︎☹︎💧︎ ⚐︎☼︎ 💣︎✌︎☝︎✋︎👍︎✌︎☹︎ 🏱︎⚐︎☼︎❄︎✌︎☹︎💧︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ ☼︎✋︎☞︎❄︎💧︎📪︎ 👌︎🕆︎❄︎ ⚐︎☠︎☹︎✡︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 🏱︎⚐︎🕈︎☜︎☼︎ ⚐︎☞︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✋︎☼︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎📬︎📬︎📬︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 😐︎✋︎☠︎👎︎ ⚐︎☞︎ ❄︎☼︎✌︎✞︎☜︎☹︎ ✋︎💧︎ 👎︎✌︎☠︎☝︎☜︎☼︎⚐︎🕆︎💧︎📬︎ [T︎R︎A︎V︎E︎L︎ T︎H︎R︎O︎U︎G︎H︎ T︎H︎E︎ V︎O︎I︎D︎ I︎N︎ S︎A︎F︎E︎T︎Y︎ A︎S︎ T︎H︎E︎ R︎I︎V︎E︎R︎F︎O︎L︎K︎ D︎O︎,︎ W︎I︎T︎H︎O︎U︎T︎ T︎E︎C︎H︎N︎O︎L︎O︎G︎I︎C︎A︎L︎ M︎A︎R︎V︎E︎L︎S︎ O︎R︎ M︎A︎G︎I︎C︎A︎L︎ P︎O︎R︎T︎A︎L︎S︎ A︎N︎D︎ R︎I︎F︎T︎S︎,︎ B︎U︎T︎ O︎N︎L︎Y︎ T︎H︎E︎ P︎O︎W︎E︎R︎ O︎F︎ T︎H︎E︎I︎R︎ W︎I︎L︎L︎.︎.︎.︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎ K︎I︎N︎D︎ O︎F︎ T︎R︎A︎V︎E︎L︎ I︎S︎ D︎A︎N︎G︎E︎R︎O︎U︎S︎.︎]

🕈︎☟︎✋︎☹︎☜︎ ✋︎ 👎︎⚐︎ 💧︎🕆︎💧︎🏱︎☜︎👍︎❄︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✋︎☼︎ ✞︎☜︎💧︎💧︎☜︎☹︎💧︎📪︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ☼︎✋︎✞︎☜︎☼︎👌︎⚐︎✌︎❄︎💧︎📪︎ 💣︎✋︎☝︎☟︎❄︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ 💧︎⚐︎💣︎☜︎ 💣︎✌︎☝︎✋︎👍︎💧︎ 🕆︎🏱︎⚐︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎💣︎ ☞︎⚐︎☼︎ 🏱︎☼︎⚐︎❄︎☜︎👍︎❄︎✋︎⚐︎☠︎📪︎ ✋︎❄︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎☠︎⚐︎❄︎ 👌︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎⚐︎ 🏱︎⚐︎🕈︎☜︎☼︎☞︎🕆︎☹︎ ⚐︎☼︎ 💣︎⚐︎☠︎💧︎❄︎☜︎☼︎💧︎ ✋︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 🕆︎☠︎👎︎☜︎☼︎☝︎☼︎⚐︎🕆︎☠︎👎︎ 🕈︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎👎︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎✋︎👍︎☜︎👎︎ ✋︎❄︎📬︎ ✌︎💧︎ ✋︎❄︎ 🕈︎✌︎💧︎📪︎ ☞︎☜︎🕈︎ ☜︎✞︎☜︎☠︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎✋︎👍︎☜︎👎︎ ⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ ☼︎✋︎✞︎☜︎☼︎🏱︎☜︎☼︎💧︎⚐︎☠︎ ✌︎❄︎ ✌︎☹︎☹︎ 🕆︎☠︎☹︎☜︎💧︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✡︎ ☠︎☜︎☜︎👎︎☜︎👎︎ ✌︎ ☼︎✋︎👎︎☜︎ 🕆︎🏱︎ ⚐︎☼︎ 👎︎⚐︎🕈︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ☼︎✋︎✞︎☜︎☼︎📬︎

[W︎H︎I︎L︎E︎ I︎ D︎O︎ S︎U︎S︎P︎E︎C︎T︎ T︎H︎E︎I︎R︎ V︎E︎S︎S︎E︎L︎S︎,︎ T︎H︎E︎ R︎I︎V︎E︎R︎B︎O︎A︎T︎S︎,︎ M︎I︎G︎H︎T︎ H︎A︎V︎E︎ S︎O︎M︎E︎ M︎A︎G︎I︎C︎S︎ U︎P︎O︎N︎ T︎H︎E︎M︎ F︎O︎R︎ P︎R︎O︎T︎E︎C︎T︎I︎O︎N︎,︎ I︎T︎ C︎A︎N︎N︎O︎T︎ B︎E︎ T︎O︎O︎ P︎O︎W︎E︎R︎F︎U︎L︎ O︎R︎ M︎O︎N︎S︎T︎E︎R︎S︎ I︎N︎ T︎H︎E︎ U︎N︎D︎E︎R︎G︎R︎O︎U︎N︎D︎ W︎O︎U︎L︎D︎ H︎A︎V︎E︎ N︎O︎T︎I︎C︎E︎D︎ I︎T︎.︎ A︎S︎ I︎T︎ W︎A︎S︎,︎ F︎E︎W︎ E︎V︎E︎N︎ N︎O︎T︎I︎C︎E︎D︎ O︎U︎R︎ R︎I︎V︎E︎R︎P︎E︎R︎S︎O︎N︎ A︎T︎ A︎L︎L︎ U︎N︎L︎E︎S︎S︎ T︎H︎E︎Y︎ N︎E︎E︎D︎E︎D︎ A︎ R︎I︎D︎E︎ U︎P︎ O︎R︎ D︎O︎W︎N︎ T︎H︎E︎ R︎I︎V︎E︎R︎.︎]

❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ☼︎✋︎✞︎☜︎☼︎🏱︎☜︎☼︎💧︎⚐︎☠︎📪︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ⚐︎☠︎☜︎ 🕈︎☟︎⚐︎ 💧︎✌︎✞︎☜︎👎︎ 💣︎✋︎💧︎❄︎☼︎✌︎☹︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 💣︎✡︎💧︎☜︎☹︎☞︎ ☞︎☼︎⚐︎💣︎ 👌︎☜︎👍︎⚐︎💣︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ 🏱︎✌︎☼︎❄︎ ⚐︎☞︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ✞︎⚐︎✋︎👎︎📪︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✡︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☠︎☜︎💧︎💧︎☜︎👎︎ ⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ 💣︎☜︎☜︎❄︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎ ✋︎☠︎😐︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 🕈︎✌︎💧︎ ☝︎⚐︎☠︎☜︎ 🕈︎☟︎☜︎☠︎ 🕈︎☜︎ ☼︎☜︎❄︎🕆︎☼︎☠︎☜︎👎︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 💧︎🏱︎☜︎✌︎😐︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎💣︎📬︎

[T︎H︎A︎T︎ R︎I︎V︎E︎R︎P︎E︎R︎S︎O︎N︎,︎ T︎H︎E︎ O︎N︎E︎ W︎H︎O︎ S︎A︎V︎E︎D︎ M︎I︎S︎T︎R︎A︎L︎ A︎N︎D︎ M︎Y︎S︎E︎L︎F︎ F︎R︎O︎M︎ B︎E︎C︎O︎M︎I︎N︎G︎ P︎A︎R︎T︎ O︎F︎ T︎H︎E︎ V︎O︎I︎D︎,︎ T︎H︎E︎Y︎ W︎I︎T︎N︎E︎S︎S︎E︎D︎ O︎U︎R︎ M︎E︎E︎T︎I︎N︎G︎ W︎I︎T︎H︎ I︎N︎K︎ A︎N︎D︎ W︎A︎S︎ G︎O︎N︎E︎ W︎H︎E︎N︎ W︎E︎ R︎E︎T︎U︎R︎N︎E︎D︎ T︎O︎ S︎P︎E︎A︎K︎ W︎I︎T︎H︎ T︎H︎E︎M︎.︎]

✋︎☠︎😐︎ ☟︎✌︎💧︎ ❄︎⚐︎☹︎👎︎ 💣︎☜︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ☹︎✋︎❄︎❄︎☹︎☜︎ ☟︎☜︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎ ✌︎👌︎⚐︎🕆︎❄︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎💣︎📪︎ 🕈︎☟︎✋︎👍︎☟︎ ✋︎ 💧︎🕆︎💧︎🏱︎☜︎👍︎❄︎ 🕈︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎👎︎ 👌︎☜︎ ☹︎✋︎❄︎❄︎☹︎☜︎ ☜︎☠︎⚐︎🕆︎☝︎☟︎ ☜︎✞︎☜︎☠︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎⚐︎🕆︎❄︎ ☟︎✋︎💧︎ ☼︎✌︎💣︎👌︎☹︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ ☞︎⚐︎☼︎☝︎☜︎❄︎☞︎🕆︎☹︎☠︎☜︎💧︎💧︎📬︎

[I︎N︎K︎ H︎A︎S︎ T︎O︎L︎D︎ M︎E︎ W︎H︎A︎T︎ L︎I︎T︎T︎L︎E︎ H︎E︎ C︎A︎N︎ A︎B︎O︎U︎T︎ T︎H︎E︎M︎,︎ W︎H︎I︎C︎H︎ I︎ S︎U︎S︎P︎E︎C︎T︎ W︎O︎U︎L︎D︎ B︎E︎ L︎I︎T︎T︎L︎E︎ E︎N︎O︎U︎G︎H︎ E︎V︎E︎N︎ W︎I︎T︎H︎O︎U︎T︎ H︎I︎S︎ R︎A︎M︎B︎L︎I︎N︎G︎ A︎N︎D︎ F︎O︎R︎G︎E︎T︎F︎U︎L︎N︎E︎S︎S︎.︎]

✋︎❄︎ 💧︎☜︎☜︎💣︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ☼︎✋︎✞︎☜︎☼︎☞︎⚐︎☹︎😐︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎☼︎✌︎✞︎☜︎☹︎☜︎☼︎💧︎📪︎ ☝︎🕆︎✋︎👎︎☜︎💧︎📬︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✡︎ 💣︎⚐︎💧︎❄︎☹︎✡︎ 👎︎🕈︎☜︎☹︎☹︎ ✋︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 🕆︎☠︎✋︎✞︎☜︎☼︎💧︎☜︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎💣︎💧︎☜︎☹︎✞︎☜︎💧︎📪︎ 👌︎🕆︎❄︎ 🏱︎⚐︎💧︎💧︎☜︎💧︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ✌︎👌︎✋︎☹︎✋︎❄︎✡︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ❄︎☼︎✌︎✞︎☜︎☹︎ ☞︎☼︎⚐︎💣︎ ⚐︎☠︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ✌︎☠︎⚐︎❄︎☟︎☜︎☼︎📪︎ 💧︎🕈︎✋︎❄︎👍︎☟︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ 🏱︎☹︎✌︎👍︎☜︎💧︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 😐︎☜︎☜︎🏱︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ✌︎ 👍︎☹︎⚐︎💧︎☜︎ ☜︎✡︎☜︎ ⚐︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ☜︎✞︎☜︎☠︎❄︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ❄︎✌︎😐︎☜︎ 🏱︎☹︎✌︎👍︎☜︎📬︎ 💧︎⚐︎💣︎☜︎❄︎✋︎💣︎☜︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✡︎🕯︎☹︎☹︎ ⚐︎☞︎☞︎☜︎☼︎ ✌︎👎︎✞︎✋︎👍︎☜︎ ⚐︎☼︎ 👍︎☼︎✡︎🏱︎❄︎✋︎👍︎ 😐︎☠︎⚐︎🕈︎☹︎☜︎👎︎☝︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✋︎☼︎ 🏱︎✌︎💧︎💧︎☜︎☠︎☝︎☜︎☼︎💧︎📪︎ 👌︎🕆︎❄︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✡︎ ☠︎☜︎✞︎☜︎☼︎ ✋︎☠︎❄︎☜︎☼︎☞︎☜︎☼︎☜︎ 👌︎☜︎✡︎⚐︎☠︎👎︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎📬︎

[I︎T︎ S︎E︎E︎M︎S︎ T︎H︎E︎ R︎I︎V︎E︎R︎F︎O︎L︎K︎ A︎R︎E︎ T︎R︎A︎V︎E︎L︎E︎R︎S︎,︎ G︎U︎I︎D︎E︎S︎.︎ T︎H︎E︎Y︎ M︎O︎S︎T︎L︎Y︎ D︎W︎E︎L︎L︎ I︎N︎ T︎H︎E︎ U︎N︎I︎V︎E︎R︎S︎E︎S︎ T︎H︎E︎M︎S︎E︎L︎V︎E︎S︎,︎ B︎U︎T︎ P︎O︎S︎S︎E︎S︎S︎ T︎H︎E︎ A︎B︎I︎L︎I︎T︎Y︎ T︎O︎ T︎R︎A︎V︎E︎L︎ F︎R︎O︎M︎ O︎N︎E︎ T︎O︎ A︎N︎O︎T︎H︎E︎R︎,︎ S︎W︎I︎T︎C︎H︎I︎N︎G︎ P︎L︎A︎C︎E︎S︎ A︎N︎D︎ K︎E︎E︎P︎I︎N︎G︎ A︎ C︎L︎O︎S︎E︎ E︎Y︎E︎ O︎N︎ T︎H︎E︎ E︎V︎E︎N︎T︎S︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎ T︎A︎K︎E︎ P︎L︎A︎C︎E︎.︎ S︎O︎M︎E︎T︎I︎M︎E︎S︎ T︎H︎E︎Y︎'︎L︎L︎ O︎F︎F︎E︎R︎ A︎D︎V︎I︎C︎E︎ O︎R︎ C︎R︎Y︎P︎T︎I︎C︎ K︎N︎O︎W︎L︎E︎D︎G︎E︎ T︎O︎ T︎H︎E︎I︎R︎ P︎A︎S︎S︎E︎N︎G︎E︎R︎S︎,︎ B︎U︎T︎ T︎H︎E︎Y︎ N︎E︎V︎E︎R︎ I︎N︎T︎E︎R︎F︎E︎R︎E︎ B︎E︎Y︎O︎N︎D︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎.︎]

🕈︎☟︎✡︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✡︎ ✌︎👍︎❄︎ ✌︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✡︎ 👎︎⚐︎📪︎ ☜︎✞︎☜︎☠︎ ✋︎☠︎😐︎ ✋︎💧︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ 👍︎☜︎☼︎❄︎✌︎✋︎☠︎📬︎ ❄︎☟︎⚐︎🕆︎☝︎☟︎ ☟︎☜︎ 👎︎✋︎👎︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ 💧︎⚐︎💣︎☜︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎☜︎💧︎ ☟︎✌︎💧︎❄︎✋︎☹︎✡︎ 💧︎👍︎☼︎✌︎🕈︎☹︎☜︎👎︎ ⚐︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ☜︎👎︎☝︎☜︎ ⚐︎☞︎ ☟︎✋︎💧︎ 💧︎👍︎✌︎☼︎☞︎📪︎ ☠︎☜︎✌︎☼︎☹︎✡︎ ☞︎✌︎👎︎☜︎👎︎ ⚐︎🕆︎❄︎ 👌︎🕆︎❄︎ 💧︎❄︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ☼︎☜︎✌︎👎︎✌︎👌︎☹︎☜︎📪︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💣︎☜︎☠︎❄︎✋︎⚐︎☠︎☜︎👎︎ 💧︎⚐︎💣︎☜︎ 😐︎✋︎☠︎👎︎ ⚐︎☞︎ 👍︎☜︎☠︎❄︎☼︎✌︎☹︎ 💣︎☜︎☜︎❄︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ 🏱︎☹︎✌︎👍︎☜︎📪︎ ✌︎ ☠︎☜︎✠︎🕆︎💧︎ ⚐︎☞︎ 💧︎⚐︎☼︎❄︎💧︎📪︎ ✌︎ 👍︎⚐︎☠︎☞︎☹︎🕆︎☜︎☠︎👍︎☜︎ 🕈︎☟︎☜︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ✂︎☼︎✋︎✞︎☜︎☼︎💧︎✂︎ 💣︎☜︎☜︎❄︎📬︎

[W︎H︎Y︎ T︎H︎E︎Y︎ A︎C︎T︎ A︎S︎ T︎H︎E︎Y︎ D︎O︎,︎ E︎V︎E︎N︎ I︎N︎K︎ I︎S︎ N︎O︎T︎ C︎E︎R︎T︎A︎I︎N︎.︎ T︎H︎O︎U︎G︎H︎ H︎E︎ D︎I︎D︎ H︎A︎V︎E︎ S︎O︎M︎E︎ N︎O︎T︎E︎S︎ H︎A︎S︎T︎I︎L︎Y︎ S︎C︎R︎A︎W︎L︎E︎D︎ O︎N︎ T︎H︎E︎ E︎D︎G︎E︎ O︎F︎ H︎I︎S︎ S︎C︎A︎R︎F︎,︎ N︎E︎A︎R︎L︎Y︎ F︎A︎D︎E︎D︎ O︎U︎T︎ B︎U︎T︎ S︎T︎I︎L︎L︎ R︎E︎A︎D︎A︎B︎L︎E︎,︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎ M︎E︎N︎T︎I︎O︎N︎E︎D︎ S︎O︎M︎E︎ K︎I︎N︎D︎ O︎F︎ C︎E︎N︎T︎R︎A︎L︎ M︎E︎E︎T︎I︎N︎G︎ P︎L︎A︎C︎E︎,︎ A︎ N︎E︎X︎U︎S︎ O︎F︎ S︎O︎R︎T︎S︎,︎ A︎ C︎O︎N︎F︎L︎U︎E︎N︎C︎E︎ W︎H︎E︎R︎E︎ T︎H︎E︎ "︎R︎I︎V︎E︎R︎S︎"︎ M︎E︎E︎T︎.︎]

✋︎ 💣︎🕆︎💧︎❄︎ ☞︎✋︎☠︎👎︎ ⚐︎🕆︎❄︎ 💣︎⚐︎☼︎☜︎📪︎ 👌︎🕆︎❄︎ ✋︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎☠︎⚐︎❄︎ 👎︎⚐︎ 💧︎⚐︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎⚐︎🕆︎❄︎ ✌︎ 🕈︎✌︎✡︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ❄︎☼︎✌︎✞︎☜︎☹︎ ❄︎☟︎☼︎⚐︎🕆︎☝︎☟︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ✞︎⚐︎✋︎👎︎📪︎ ☼︎✌︎❄︎☟︎☜︎☼︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎☠︎ 👌︎✡︎🏱︎✌︎💧︎💧︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ✋︎❄︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎ 🏱︎⚐︎☼︎❄︎✌︎☹︎💧︎📬︎

[I︎ M︎U︎S︎T︎ F︎I︎N︎D︎ O︎U︎T︎ M︎O︎R︎E︎,︎ B︎U︎T︎ I︎ C︎A︎N︎N︎O︎T︎ D︎O︎ S︎O︎ W︎I︎T︎H︎O︎U︎T︎ A︎ W︎A︎Y︎ T︎O︎ T︎R︎A︎V︎E︎L︎ T︎H︎R︎O︎U︎G︎H︎ T︎H︎E︎ V︎O︎I︎D︎,︎ R︎A︎T︎H︎E︎R︎ T︎H︎A︎N︎ B︎Y︎P︎A︎S︎S︎I︎N︎G︎ I︎T︎ W︎I︎T︎H︎ P︎O︎R︎T︎A︎L︎S︎.︎]

❄︎☟︎☜︎ ✌︎☠︎💧︎🕈︎☜︎☼︎ ☹︎✋︎☜︎💧︎ ✋︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎📪︎ ✋︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎☠︎😐︎📬︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💣︎🕆︎💧︎❄︎ 👌︎☜︎ ☟︎⚐︎🕈︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ☼︎✋︎✞︎☜︎☼︎☞︎⚐︎☹︎😐︎ ❄︎☼︎✌︎✞︎☜︎☹︎ ✌︎💧︎ 🕈︎☜︎☹︎☹︎📪︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✋︎☼︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎💧︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ 💧︎⚐︎💣︎☜︎❄︎☟︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ⚐︎❄︎☟︎☜︎☼︎💧︎ 👎︎⚐︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎📬︎ 🏱︎☜︎☼︎☟︎✌︎🏱︎💧︎ 👎︎☜︎❄︎☜︎☼︎💣︎✋︎☠︎✌︎❄︎✋︎⚐︎☠︎✍︎

[T︎H︎E︎ A︎N︎S︎W︎E︎R︎ L︎I︎E︎S︎ I︎N︎ T︎H︎E︎ S︎O︎U︎L︎,︎ I︎ T︎H︎I︎N︎K︎.︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎ M︎U︎S︎T︎ B︎E︎ H︎O︎W︎ T︎H︎E︎ R︎I︎V︎E︎R︎F︎O︎L︎K︎ T︎R︎A︎V︎E︎L︎ A︎S︎ W︎E︎L︎L︎,︎ T︎H︎E︎I︎R︎ S︎O︎U︎L︎S︎ H︎A︎V︎E︎ S︎O︎M︎E︎T︎H︎I︎N︎G︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎ O︎T︎H︎E︎R︎S︎ D︎O︎ N︎O︎T︎.︎ P︎E︎R︎H︎A︎P︎S︎ D︎E︎T︎E︎R︎M︎I︎N︎A︎T︎I︎O︎N︎?︎]

🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ✋︎💧︎ ✌︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎✍︎ ✋︎ ❄︎☟︎⚐︎🕆︎☝︎☟︎❄︎ ✋︎ 😐︎☠︎☜︎🕈︎📬︎ 👌︎🕆︎❄︎ ☜︎✞︎☜︎☠︎ 💣︎✡︎ ☝︎☼︎☜︎✌︎❄︎☜︎💧︎❄︎ ✌︎👍︎☟︎✋︎☜︎✞︎☜︎💣︎☜︎☠︎❄︎💧︎ ✌︎💣︎⚐︎🕆︎☠︎❄︎☜︎👎︎ ⚐︎☠︎☹︎✡︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☼︎☜︎👌︎🕆︎✋︎☹︎👎︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ✌︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎ ☞︎☼︎⚐︎💣︎ ✌︎ ☞︎✋︎☠︎✌︎☹︎ ☞︎☼︎✌︎☝︎💣︎☜︎☠︎❄︎📬︎ ✋︎ 👌︎🕆︎✋︎☹︎❄︎ 🕆︎🏱︎⚐︎☠︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ✌︎☹︎☼︎☜︎✌︎👎︎✡︎ ☜︎✠︎✋︎💧︎❄︎☜︎👎︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ 👌︎✡︎ ✌︎👎︎👎︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ☠︎☜︎🕈︎ 🏱︎✌︎☼︎❄︎💧︎📪︎ 👌︎🕆︎❄︎ 👌︎✡︎ ✌︎👎︎👎︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ❄︎☼︎✌︎✋︎❄︎💧︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ ✈︎🕆︎✌︎☹︎✋︎❄︎✋︎☜︎💧︎ ✋︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ ☹︎☜︎❄︎❄︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ✋︎❄︎💧︎ ☠︎✌︎❄︎🕆︎☼︎✌︎☹︎ ☞︎🕆︎☠︎👍︎❄︎✋︎⚐︎☠︎💧︎ 👌︎🕆︎✋︎☹︎👎︎ 🕆︎🏱︎⚐︎☠︎ ✋︎❄︎💧︎☜︎☹︎☞︎ 🕆︎💧︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ❄︎☟︎⚐︎💧︎☜︎📬︎

[W︎H︎A︎T︎ I︎S︎ A︎ S︎O︎U︎L︎?︎ I︎ T︎H︎O︎U︎G︎H︎T︎ I︎ K︎N︎E︎W︎.︎ B︎U︎T︎ E︎V︎E︎N︎ M︎Y︎ G︎R︎E︎A︎T︎E︎S︎T︎ A︎C︎H︎I︎E︎V︎E︎M︎E︎N︎T︎S︎ A︎M︎O︎U︎N︎T︎E︎D︎ O︎N︎L︎Y︎ T︎O︎ R︎E︎B︎U︎I︎L︎D︎I︎N︎G︎ A︎ S︎O︎U︎L︎ F︎R︎O︎M︎ A︎ F︎I︎N︎A︎L︎ F︎R︎A︎G︎M︎E︎N︎T︎.︎ I︎ B︎U︎I︎L︎T︎ U︎P︎O︎N︎ S︎O︎U︎L︎S︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎ A︎L︎R︎E︎A︎D︎Y︎ E︎X︎I︎S︎T︎E︎D︎ N︎O︎T︎ B︎Y︎ A︎D︎D︎I︎N︎G︎ N︎E︎W︎ P︎A︎R︎T︎S︎,︎ B︎U︎T︎ B︎Y︎ A︎D︎D︎I︎N︎G︎ T︎O︎ T︎R︎A︎I︎T︎S︎ A︎N︎D︎ Q︎U︎A︎L︎I︎T︎I︎E︎S︎ I︎N︎ T︎H︎E︎ S︎O︎U︎L︎ A︎N︎D︎ L︎E︎T︎T︎I︎N︎G︎ I︎T︎S︎ N︎A︎T︎U︎R︎A︎L︎ F︎U︎N︎C︎T︎I︎O︎N︎S︎ B︎U︎I︎L︎D︎ U︎P︎O︎N︎ I︎T︎S︎E︎L︎F︎ U︎S︎I︎N︎G︎ T︎H︎O︎S︎E︎.︎]

✋︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ✌︎👎︎💣︎✋︎❄︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ☜︎✞︎☜︎☠︎ ✋︎ 👍︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎👎︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ 👍︎☼︎☜︎✌︎❄︎☜︎ ✌︎☠︎ ☜︎☠︎❄︎✋︎☼︎☜︎☹︎✡︎ ☠︎☜︎🕈︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎ ☞︎☼︎⚐︎💣︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎☟︎✋︎☠︎☝︎📪︎ ❄︎☟︎⚐︎🕆︎☝︎☟︎ ☝︎✋︎✞︎☜︎☠︎ ⚐︎☠︎☜︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ✌︎☹︎☼︎☜︎✌︎👎︎✡︎ ☜︎✠︎✋︎💧︎❄︎💧︎ ✋︎ 👍︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎👎︎ ✌︎☹︎❄︎☜︎☼︎ ✋︎❄︎📪︎ ☜︎✞︎☜︎☠︎ ☞︎✋︎✠︎ ✋︎❄︎ ✋︎☞︎ ✋︎ ☠︎☜︎☜︎👎︎☜︎👎︎ ❄︎⚐︎📪︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 💧︎🕆︎✋︎❄︎ 💣︎✡︎ 👎︎☜︎💧︎✋︎☼︎☜︎💧︎📬︎

[I︎ H︎A︎V︎E︎ T︎O︎ A︎D︎M︎I︎T︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎ E︎V︎E︎N︎ I︎ C︎O︎U︎L︎D︎ N︎O︎T︎ C︎R︎E︎A︎T︎E︎ A︎N︎ E︎N︎T︎I︎R︎E︎L︎Y︎ N︎E︎W︎ S︎O︎U︎L︎ F︎R︎O︎M︎ N︎O︎T︎H︎I︎N︎G︎,︎ T︎H︎O︎U︎G︎H︎ G︎I︎V︎E︎N︎ O︎N︎E︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎ A︎L︎R︎E︎A︎D︎Y︎ E︎X︎I︎S︎T︎S︎ I︎ C︎O︎U︎L︎D︎ A︎L︎T︎E︎R︎ I︎T︎,︎ E︎V︎E︎N︎ F︎I︎X︎ I︎T︎ I︎F︎ I︎ N︎E︎E︎D︎E︎D︎ T︎O︎,︎ T︎O︎ S︎U︎I︎T︎ M︎Y︎ D︎E︎S︎I︎R︎E︎S︎.︎]

👍︎☹︎☜︎✌︎☼︎☹︎✡︎ ✋︎ 💣︎🕆︎💧︎❄︎ ☼︎☜︎💧︎🕆︎💣︎☜︎ 💣︎✡︎ 💧︎❄︎🕆︎👎︎✋︎☜︎💧︎ ⚐︎☞︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎ ✋︎☠︎ ⚐︎☼︎👎︎☜︎☼︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☞︎🕆︎☼︎❄︎☟︎☜︎☼︎ 💣︎✡︎ ☜︎✠︎🏱︎☹︎⚐︎☼︎✌︎❄︎✋︎⚐︎☠︎ ⚐︎☞︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ✞︎⚐︎✋︎👎︎📬︎ ✋︎❄︎ ✋︎💧︎ ✌︎ 🏱︎☜︎☼︎✋︎☹︎⚐︎🕆︎💧︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎✌︎ ⚐︎☞︎ 💧︎❄︎🕆︎👎︎✡︎📪︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ ✋︎ 💣︎🕆︎💧︎❄︎ ❄︎✌︎😐︎☜︎ 👍︎✌︎☼︎☜︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☹︎☜︎❄︎ 💣︎✡︎ 👍︎🕆︎☼︎✋︎⚐︎💧︎✋︎❄︎✡︎ 🏱︎🕆︎☹︎☹︎ 💣︎☜︎ ⚐︎☠︎❄︎⚐︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 🏱︎✌︎❄︎☟︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ☹︎☜︎✌︎👎︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 👍︎☼︎☜︎✌︎❄︎✋︎⚐︎☠︎ ⚐︎☞︎ ✌︎💣︎✌︎☹︎☝︎✌︎💣︎✌︎❄︎☜︎ 👌︎☜︎✋︎☠︎☝︎💧︎📬︎

[C︎L︎E︎A︎R︎L︎Y︎ I︎ M︎U︎S︎T︎ R︎E︎S︎U︎M︎E︎ M︎Y︎ S︎T︎U︎D︎I︎E︎S︎ O︎F︎ T︎H︎E︎ S︎O︎U︎L︎ I︎N︎ O︎R︎D︎E︎R︎ T︎O︎ F︎U︎R︎T︎H︎E︎R︎ M︎Y︎ E︎X︎P︎L︎O︎R︎A︎T︎I︎O︎N︎ O︎F︎ T︎H︎E︎ V︎O︎I︎D︎.︎ I︎T︎ I︎S︎ A︎ P︎E︎R︎I︎L︎O︎U︎S︎ A︎R︎E︎A︎ O︎F︎ S︎T︎U︎D︎Y︎,︎ A︎N︎D︎ I︎ M︎U︎S︎T︎ T︎A︎K︎E︎ C︎A︎R︎E︎ N︎O︎T︎ T︎O︎ L︎E︎T︎ M︎Y︎ C︎U︎R︎I︎O︎S︎I︎T︎Y︎ P︎U︎L︎L︎ M︎E︎ O︎N︎T︎O︎ T︎H︎E︎ P︎A︎T︎H︎S︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎ L︎E︎A︎D︎ T︎O︎ T︎H︎E︎ C︎R︎E︎A︎T︎I︎O︎N︎ O︎F︎ A︎M︎A︎L︎G︎A︎M︎A︎T︎E︎ B︎E︎I︎N︎G︎S︎.︎]

☠︎⚐︎📪︎ ✋︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎☠︎⚐︎❄︎ ☼︎🕆︎💧︎☟︎ ☟︎☜︎✌︎👎︎☹︎⚐︎☠︎☝︎ ✋︎☠︎❄︎⚐︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎💧︎📬︎ ✋︎❄︎ ✋︎💧︎ 👎︎✌︎☠︎☝︎☜︎☼︎⚐︎🕆︎💧︎📬︎ ☞︎⚐︎☼︎❄︎🕆︎☠︎✌︎❄︎☜︎☹︎✡︎ ✋︎ 💣︎✌︎✡︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ ☠︎☜︎☜︎👎︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ❄︎☜︎💧︎❄︎ ⚐︎☠︎ ✌︎☠︎✡︎ ⚐︎☞︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎💧︎ 💣︎✡︎💧︎☜︎☹︎☞︎📬︎ 💧︎🕆︎☼︎☜︎☹︎✡︎ ✋︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎☠︎⚐︎❄︎ 👌︎☜︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ⚐︎☠︎☹︎✡︎ 💧︎👍︎✋︎☜︎☠︎❄︎✋︎💧︎❄︎ ✋︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 💣︎🕆︎☹︎❄︎✋︎✞︎☜︎☼︎💧︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 💧︎❄︎🕆︎👎︎✡︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ☠︎✌︎❄︎🕆︎☼︎☜︎ ⚐︎☞︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎📬︎ ✋︎ 💣︎✋︎☝︎☟︎❄︎ ✌︎💧︎😐︎ ✋︎☠︎😐︎ ☞︎⚐︎☼︎ ☟︎☜︎☹︎🏱︎ ✋︎☠︎ ☝︎⚐︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ❄︎☟︎☼︎⚐︎🕆︎☝︎☟︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ☼︎☜︎👍︎⚐︎☼︎👎︎💧︎ ⚐︎☞︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 🕆︎☠︎✋︎✞︎☜︎☼︎💧︎☜︎💧︎📪︎ 💧︎☜︎✌︎☼︎👍︎☟︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ☞︎⚐︎☼︎ ☼︎☜︎✌︎☹︎ ☼︎☜︎💧︎☜︎✌︎☼︎👍︎☟︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 😐︎☠︎⚐︎🕈︎☹︎☜︎👎︎☝︎☜︎ ✌︎👌︎⚐︎🕆︎❄︎ 👌︎⚐︎❄︎☟︎ ☟︎🕆︎💣︎✌︎☠︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 💣︎⚐︎☠︎💧︎❄︎☜︎☼︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎💧︎📬︎

[N︎O︎,︎ I︎ C︎A︎N︎N︎O︎T︎ R︎U︎S︎H︎ H︎E︎A︎D︎L︎O︎N︎G︎ I︎N︎T︎O︎ T︎H︎I︎S︎.︎ I︎T︎ I︎S︎ D︎A︎N︎G︎E︎R︎O︎U︎S︎.︎ F︎O︎R︎T︎U︎N︎A︎T︎E︎L︎Y︎ I︎ M︎A︎Y︎ N︎O︎T︎ N︎E︎E︎D︎ T︎O︎ T︎E︎S︎T︎ O︎N︎ A︎N︎Y︎ O︎F︎ T︎H︎I︎S︎ M︎Y︎S︎E︎L︎F︎.︎ S︎U︎R︎E︎L︎Y︎ I︎ C︎A︎N︎N︎O︎T︎ B︎E︎ T︎H︎E︎ O︎N︎L︎Y︎ S︎C︎I︎E︎N︎T︎I︎S︎T︎ I︎N︎ T︎H︎E︎ M︎U︎L︎T︎I︎V︎E︎R︎S︎E︎ T︎O︎ S︎T︎U︎D︎Y︎ T︎H︎E︎ N︎A︎T︎U︎R︎E︎ O︎F︎ T︎H︎E︎ S︎O︎U︎L︎.︎ I︎ M︎I︎G︎H︎T︎ A︎S︎K︎ I︎N︎K︎ F︎O︎R︎ H︎E︎L︎P︎ I︎N︎ G︎O︎I︎N︎G︎ T︎H︎R︎O︎U︎G︎H︎ T︎H︎E︎ R︎E︎C︎O︎R︎D︎S︎ O︎F︎ T︎H︎E︎ U︎N︎I︎V︎E︎R︎S︎E︎S︎,︎ S︎E︎A︎R︎C︎H︎I︎N︎G︎ F︎O︎R︎ R︎E︎A︎L︎ R︎E︎S︎E︎A︎R︎C︎H︎ A︎N︎D︎ K︎N︎O︎W︎L︎E︎D︎G︎E︎ A︎B︎O︎U︎T︎ B︎O︎T︎H︎ H︎U︎M︎A︎N︎ A︎N︎D︎ M︎O︎N︎S︎T︎E︎R︎ S︎O︎U︎L︎S︎.︎]

☜︎✞︎☜︎☠︎ 💣︎✡︎ 💧︎❄︎☼︎☜︎☠︎☝︎❄︎☟︎☜︎☠︎☜︎👎︎ 💧︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎📪︎ 🕈︎☟︎⚐︎☹︎☜︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 👍︎⚐︎💣︎🏱︎☹︎☜︎❄︎☜︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎ ✌︎ ✞︎✌︎☼︎✋︎✌︎❄︎✋︎⚐︎☠︎ ⚐︎☞︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ✂︎💧︎⚐︎☹︎🕆︎❄︎✋︎⚐︎☠︎✂︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ✌︎☹︎🏱︎☟︎✡︎💧︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 💣︎✋︎💧︎❄︎☼︎✌︎☹︎ ☞︎⚐︎☼︎💣︎☜︎👎︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☟︎☜︎☹︎🏱︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 🕆︎☠︎👎︎☜︎☼︎☝︎☼︎⚐︎🕆︎☠︎👎︎ ☼︎☜︎💣︎☜︎💣︎👌︎☜︎☼︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ☼︎☜︎💧︎☜︎❄︎💧︎📪︎ ☜︎✞︎☜︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎💧︎ ✋︎💧︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ ☜︎☠︎⚐︎🕆︎☝︎☟︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 🕈︎✌︎☹︎😐︎ ❄︎☟︎☼︎⚐︎🕆︎☝︎☟︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ✞︎⚐︎✋︎👎︎📬︎

[E︎V︎E︎N︎ M︎Y︎ S︎T︎R︎E︎N︎G︎T︎H︎E︎N︎E︎D︎ S︎O︎U︎L︎,︎ W︎H︎O︎L︎E︎ A︎N︎D︎ C︎O︎M︎P︎L︎E︎T︎E︎ A︎N︎D︎ W︎I︎T︎H︎ A︎ V︎A︎R︎I︎A︎T︎I︎O︎N︎ O︎F︎ T︎H︎E︎ "︎S︎O︎L︎U︎T︎I︎O︎N︎"︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎ A︎L︎P︎H︎Y︎S︎ A︎N︎D︎ M︎I︎S︎T︎R︎A︎L︎ F︎O︎R︎M︎E︎D︎ T︎O︎ H︎E︎L︎P︎ T︎H︎E︎ U︎N︎D︎E︎R︎G︎R︎O︎U︎N︎D︎ R︎E︎M︎E︎M︎B︎E︎R︎ T︎H︎E︎ R︎E︎S︎E︎T︎S︎,︎ E︎V︎E︎N︎ T︎H︎I︎S︎ I︎S︎ N︎O︎T︎ E︎N︎O︎U︎G︎H︎ T︎O︎ W︎A︎L︎K︎ T︎H︎R︎O︎U︎G︎H︎ T︎H︎E︎ V︎O︎I︎D︎.︎]

✌︎❄︎ ❄︎✋︎💣︎☜︎💧︎ ✋︎ ☞︎☜︎✌︎☼︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ✋︎ ✌︎💣︎ 🏱︎🕆︎☼︎💧︎🕆︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 🕈︎☼︎⚐︎☠︎☝︎ ✈︎🕆︎☜︎💧︎❄︎✋︎⚐︎☠︎💧︎📪︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💣︎✡︎ 👍︎☟︎✋︎☹︎👎︎☼︎☜︎☠︎ 💣︎✋︎☝︎☟︎❄︎ 👌︎☜︎ 💣︎⚐︎☼︎☜︎ ☜︎✌︎💧︎✋︎☹︎✡︎ ☞︎⚐︎🕆︎☠︎👎︎ 💧︎☟︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎👎︎ ✋︎ 💧︎✋︎💣︎🏱︎☹︎✡︎ ☹︎⚐︎⚐︎😐︎ ✌︎🕈︎✌︎✡︎ ☞︎☼︎⚐︎💣︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ✞︎⚐︎✋︎👎︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ 💣︎✡︎ ☜︎☠︎👎︎☹︎☜︎💧︎💧︎ ☼︎☜︎💧︎☜︎✌︎☼︎👍︎☟︎📬︎ 👌︎🕆︎❄︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ☞︎☜︎✌︎☼︎ ✋︎💧︎ 👌︎✌︎☹︎✌︎☠︎👍︎☜︎👎︎ 👌︎✡︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ☜︎✈︎🕆︎✌︎☹︎ ☞︎☜︎✌︎☼︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💧︎☟︎⚐︎🕆︎☹︎👎︎ ✋︎ ☝︎✋︎✞︎☜︎ ✋︎❄︎ 🕆︎🏱︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ ❄︎🕆︎☼︎☠︎ ✌︎🕈︎✌︎✡︎📪︎ ✋︎ 💣︎✋︎☝︎☟︎❄︎ 👎︎⚐︎ 💧︎⚐︎ ☺︎🕆︎💧︎❄︎ 💧︎☟︎⚐︎☼︎❄︎ ⚐︎☞︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ✌︎☠︎💧︎🕈︎☜︎☼︎💧︎ ✋︎ ☠︎☜︎☜︎👎︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☞︎✋︎☠︎👎︎ 💣︎✡︎ 👌︎⚐︎✡︎💧︎📬︎

[A︎T︎ T︎I︎M︎E︎S︎ I︎ F︎E︎A︎R︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎ I︎ A︎M︎ P︎U︎R︎S︎U︎I︎N︎G︎ T︎H︎E︎ W︎R︎O︎N︎G︎ Q︎U︎E︎S︎T︎I︎O︎N︎S︎,︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎ M︎Y︎ C︎H︎I︎L︎D︎R︎E︎N︎ M︎I︎G︎H︎T︎ B︎E︎ M︎O︎R︎E︎ E︎A︎S︎I︎L︎Y︎ F︎O︎U︎N︎D︎ S︎H︎O︎U︎L︎D︎ I︎ S︎I︎M︎P︎L︎Y︎ L︎O︎O︎K︎ A︎W︎A︎Y︎ F︎R︎O︎M︎ T︎H︎E︎ V︎O︎I︎D︎ A︎N︎D︎ M︎Y︎ E︎N︎D︎L︎E︎S︎S︎ R︎E︎S︎E︎A︎R︎C︎H︎.︎ B︎U︎T︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎ F︎E︎A︎R︎ I︎S︎ B︎A︎L︎A︎N︎C︎E︎D︎ B︎Y︎ T︎H︎E︎ E︎Q︎U︎A︎L︎ F︎E︎A︎R︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎ S︎H︎O︎U︎L︎D︎ I︎ G︎I︎V︎E︎ I︎T︎ U︎P︎ A︎N︎D︎ T︎U︎R︎N︎ A︎W︎A︎Y︎,︎ I︎ M︎I︎G︎H︎T︎ D︎O︎ S︎O︎ J︎U︎S︎T︎ S︎H︎O︎R︎T︎ O︎F︎ T︎H︎E︎ A︎N︎S︎W︎E︎R︎S︎ I︎ N︎E︎E︎D︎ T︎O︎ F︎I︎N︎D︎ M︎Y︎ B︎O︎Y︎S︎.︎]

🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎ 👌︎☜︎ 👎︎⚐︎☠︎☜︎✍︎ ☟︎⚐︎🕈︎ 👎︎⚐︎ ✋︎ 😐︎☠︎⚐︎🕈︎ 🕈︎☟︎✋︎👍︎☟︎ ✋︎💧︎ 🕈︎☟︎✋︎👍︎☟︎✍︎ ✌︎☹︎☹︎ ✋︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎ 👎︎⚐︎ ✋︎💧︎ 😐︎☜︎☜︎🏱︎ 🕈︎⚐︎☼︎😐︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ✌︎❄︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ✋︎ ✌︎💣︎ ✌︎☹︎☼︎☜︎✌︎👎︎✡︎ 👎︎⚐︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ 🕆︎☠︎❄︎✋︎☹︎ ☞︎✋︎☠︎👎︎ ✌︎ 👍︎☹︎🕆︎☜︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ☝︎✋︎✞︎☜︎💧︎ 💣︎☜︎ ✌︎ 👌︎☜︎❄︎❄︎☜︎☼︎ ✋︎👎︎☜︎✌︎ ⚐︎☞︎ 🕈︎☟︎☜︎☼︎☜︎ ✌︎☠︎👎︎ ☟︎⚐︎🕈︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 💧︎☜︎✌︎☼︎👍︎☟︎📬︎ ✋︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎☠︎⚐︎❄︎ 👌︎☜︎☹︎✋︎☜︎✞︎☜︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✡︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ ☝︎⚐︎☠︎☜︎📬︎📬︎📬︎ ✋︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎📬︎ ✋︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ ☞︎✋︎☠︎👎︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎💣︎📬︎ ✋︎ ✌︎💣︎📬︎📬︎📬︎👎︎☜︎❄︎☜︎☼︎💣︎✋︎☠︎☜︎👎︎📬︎

[W︎H︎A︎T︎ C︎A︎N︎ B︎E︎ D︎O︎N︎E︎?︎ H︎O︎W︎ D︎O︎ I︎ K︎N︎O︎W︎ W︎H︎I︎C︎H︎ I︎S︎ W︎H︎I︎C︎H︎?︎ A︎L︎L︎ I︎ C︎A︎N︎ D︎O︎ I︎S︎ K︎E︎E︎P︎ W︎O︎R︎K︎I︎N︎G︎ A︎T︎ W︎H︎A︎T︎ I︎ A︎M︎ A︎L︎R︎E︎A︎D︎Y︎ D︎O︎I︎N︎G︎ U︎N︎T︎I︎L︎ F︎I︎N︎D︎ A︎ C︎L︎U︎E︎ T︎H︎A︎T︎ G︎I︎V︎E︎S︎ M︎E︎ A︎ B︎E︎T︎T︎E︎R︎ I︎D︎E︎A︎ O︎F︎ W︎H︎E︎R︎E︎ A︎N︎D︎ H︎O︎W︎ T︎O︎ S︎E︎A︎R︎C︎H︎.︎ I︎ C︎A︎N︎N︎O︎T︎ B︎E︎L︎I︎E︎V︎E︎ T︎H︎E︎Y︎ A︎R︎E︎ G︎O︎N︎E︎.︎.︎.︎ I︎ W︎I︎L︎L︎ N︎O︎T︎.︎ I︎ W︎I︎L︎L︎ F︎I︎N︎D︎ T︎H︎E︎M︎.︎ I︎ A︎M︎.︎.︎.︎D︎E︎T︎E︎R︎M︎I︎N︎E︎D︎.︎]

[the-river-person]

Falling Down Around You

Sans had been helping the Guard. His shortcuts were one of the most useful things he could provide to the Underground. It was why he’d kept his job as a messenger and mail carrier despite being the Judge, despite being a practicing psychiatrist. He could jump around the Underground in a few minutes, a journey which might take several days depending on which areas you needed to go through. The fastest road might take you from Old Home to the Castle in New Home in a few hours if you ran the whole way and didn’t stop to talk to anyone. But even the Human had originally taken a few weeks to make the whole trip, because they’d been stopped by numerous puzzles, Monsters who wanted to fight them, and even things like buying things at a shop or getting a room at the Inn. A closed down elevator or a blocked tunnel could delay you even longer, and what if you kept being forced down side routes? So if someone needed a message delivered right then and there, they could either send a text or call. But what happened when you needed to deliver something? Or someone? What happened when the person you’re trying to reach wouldn’t answer? The answer was simple. Call someone who can go there in a flash. And of course he’d been happy enough to do it all. Kept things interesting, let him hear news. Occasionally important things would go through from Gaster or the Royals. He’d be the first to hear about Mettaton’s newest shows. It was he who’d been able to congratulate Undyne on her first ever action film even before Alphys could. All the best Undertube videos, the most interesting articles on the Undernet, even plans for new puzzles. He heard about all of it as he zipped back and forth. Tonight however, he’d taken more shortcuts than ever before. First the King and Queen to Snowdin for Isa, then he’d taken them back to the Palace and immediately began transporting to the furthest areas of the Underground. Looking for the most obscure and hidden Monsters to let them know about the King’s order for evacuation. And he’d even helped special cases out for the guard, transporting fire Monsters who couldn’t enter in through the Waterfall Area, or various Monsters from Old Home who couldn’t easily pass through Snowdin Caverns. Then a Guard had asked him to go down to the Lower Waterfall City in the Cliffs and the Outpost below in the Depths to help transport people out so the elevators would be freed up a little. He had to pause and crouch down, his skull nearly level with his knees. Dizziness was making his head feel fuzzy, but he didn’t want to spend too long recovering from it. A real break would be needed soon or he’d regret it. When he had enough strength back he took a shortcut to Gaster’s cave. Asgore and Toriel were up on the platform with Gaster. He headed that way. “Hey Tori,” he said, and she turned with...well... not quite a smile, but more of a flicker of polite recognition. “Have you seen Papyrus?” She shook her head. “I haven’t, but Gaster said he went to inspect the ship, I think he is still on board.” Sans gave a small sigh of relief. Really there hadn’t been too much to worry about. They were trying to hurry with the evacuation because they wanted as much time as possible in case something went wrong or some Monster was missing. And there wasn’t anyone that could really do his bro any harm, or would even want to. But he’d still felt the icy chill of panic throughout this whole thing. Over near the catwalk, Seamus was packing up the last of the recording equipment, with his husband Evan helping him. Mettaton was nowhere to be seen, and Sans decided that the robot had probably either already boarded the ship or was in line somewhere. Or maybe searching for Napstablook. Over the years the two had had a strange friendship, though neither had ever really said how it came about. And the ghost had become somewhat less self depreciating and a little more confident in their abilities. Really their music had been in the top musical hits chart for over a hundred years now, even the newer albums were popular. Even so, Napstablook was still somewhat gloomy, and that was alright. Nobody could ever match the constant energy that Papyrus had. If Napstablook wanted to be a little gloomy and enjoy long periods of solitude, that was their right. Still working at the computers in the section of the cave that served as Gaster’s lab was one of his assistants. Tertia, who was bird-like and hunched over. She poked at the keys in manner that might have seemed like boredom to anyone else, but Sans knew it was just her way. All four of Gaster’s assistants were very strange Monsters. Suddenly the cave shook.  Lights flickered as the very roof of the cave trembled, screams and gasps came from the lines of Monsters waiting to board the ships. Alarms began blaring loudly and little red lights began flashing all over the cave. Gaster whirled round. “What is it? What’s happening?” he demanded of his assistant who was now typing frantically away at the keyboard, trying to find the source. Down below the Monsters were beginning to panic and the Guard was having to step in to keep things from getting out of hand. Tertia gasped, her grey eyes going wide, the most expressive face he’d ever seen on any of the assistants. “It’s the Core! It’s experiencing an overload! It’ll go down in just a few minutes!” Gaster’s mouth fell open in shock. It was only for half a second that he stood there, but with everyone staring at him, waiting for him to carefully explain to them what that meant exactly and what they should do, it seemed like an eternity of waiting. When he finally did move it was neither carefully nor calmly. The scientist threw himself forward towards the ledge looking down on the ship, grabbing the rails to push himself up so that he was right above where the Guards were. “GET EVERYONE ON THE SHIP NOW! DON’T COUNT THEM! JUST BOARD!” Pandemonium ensued. Monsters surged towards the doors of the ship, climbing aboard with the assistance of the Royal Guards, who were doing their best to keep smaller Monsters from being trampled in the chaos. Gaster was halted by Toriel and Asgore who were demanding to know what was happening. But he had no patience for careful explanations. He dove past them and started grabbing files and notebooks off his desk and stuffing everything haphazardly into a briefcase. “It’s the core!” he screeched, almost in hysterics. “If it falls the entire grid will go down. It won’t be enough to kill anyone as long as they aren’t in the machine itself, but the shock wave will be enough to reach this cave. The ship is programmed to open a Rift in the event of an apocalyptic emergency, and it will think this is one!” Glancing behind and seeing their blank expressions he growled in frustration. “Don’t you get it?! If we don’t get on board the ship will leave without us!” That did it, horrified understanding dawned in the eyes of the two Monarchs and they ran for the stairways along with the rest of the crowds. But the lines still stretched out through Waterfall, there were still over 600 Monsters who hadn’t gotten the chance to board yet. Feeling sick to his stomach, Sans wondered for a second what he should do. Shortcuts. He could save some people. Seamus and Evan were making for the stairs as well and he ran to catch up with them. Grabbing their arms he used a shortcut to tear all three of them from their current position in space and onto the ship, where he left them confused and disoriented, and took a shortcut back. Next was Tertia, who was sitting, not moving, in her chair, staring blankly at the computer screen in shock. She didn’t thank him as he handed her over to the Guards in the ship’s hold. He’d gone back for Gaster when he spotted Realis enter the cave looking frantic. Running that way instead he brought the prince into the ship as well. Monsters outside were desperately pushing relatives, especially younger ones, forward. Though there were no real children left after three hundred years, many still appeared to be children, and their parents lifted them high, ignoring their protests, and practically handed them to the Guards, who took them into the ship. Cousins, lovers, and friends were shoved forward, and other Monsters who only had themselves to worry about pushed their way to the front. He saw Papyrus pull a Froggit as well as both Bratty and Catty into the ship all at the same time. Even Monster Kid had leaned back as far as he could to take the tiny Cinnamon with the curl of his tail while Goner helped Cinnamon’s older Sister, Lapina, climb up using his tail.  A tiny yellow bird who had once carried people across a disproportionately small gap was clinging to her fur, terrified out of its mind. Where had Gaster gone to? He spotted Gaster fiddling with the computers, Sans appeared behind him and saw the little storage chip he’d plugged into slot. The Scientist was trying to copy over his research. “Doc! Come on! There’s no time!” And there wasn’t time. The surge from the collapsing Core hit and the cavern shook again and the lights went out, leaving only the ship and it’s power system separate from the main grid still lighting the space. Screaming and panicked shouting rang out and the Monsters nearest to the ship were forced back. The Rift had begun to open up underneath the floor of the cave. Papyrus was looking frantically around the cave, pushing against his own guards as they tried to close the doors for their fall into the Void. “SANS!!!” he screamed. Sans was only a few steps from the edge of the platform, right over the ship. He didn’t think, he only moved. He was already in the air when he realized that Gaster was with him,  having tried to stop him from making the jump and fallen with him. To all those still in the cave it appeared as if a gigantic flat disk of nothingness you couldn’t describe that had no color to speak of but wasn’t black or white and could be seen even in the dark despite not giving off any light had opened up where the floor was supposed to be. The Ship and the pair of falling Monsters seemed to slow and freeze in place, then slowly... without moving, they simply began to fade away as if they had never been. And with them went the strange grey disk that made up the Rift. From San’s point of view the world around him began to warp and twist as if it were being turned inside out. He could still see the Monsters in Gaster’s cave, but instead of the cave being all around him, it was as if the space around him had been turned inside out and shaped into an orb, leaving only the Void around him as he fell away from the orb. It got smaller and smaller until it was gone, and so was the ship. He and Gaster were adrift in the Void.

[the-river-person]

Epilogue

Wind swept through the red grass like a wave upon the sea, sending ripples down the slopes of the endless hills. In the lowest valleys the grass vanished into a soft white fog, making the hilltops seem as if they were detached from the earth and floating through an ocean of clouds. Sans gazed around in wonder, while also having to shield his eyes a little. Above them the sky was a thousand blending shades of purple, everything from a deep angry bruise to a very soft lilac. At the edge of the Horizon was the sun, and from here it looked a very deep red color, and though it wasn’t terribly bright, he still had to shield his eyes. It seemed that he needed some time for his eyes to properly adjust to seeing the surface in all of its overwhelming brightness after living in the muted and shadowed Underground for all his life. Well for lifetimes on end, really. Mouth open wide, and eye lights nearly pinpricks in shock, Gaster too appeared to be too stunned for words at the sight of this world. Sans knew that his uncle had been around to see the Surface of their own Universe, and judging by Gaster’s reaction, it was nothing at all like this. The River Person had taken them to this place because he said it was still a relatively safe Universe to visit for a little while. Comfortably seated in his ferry boat, the River Person didn’t seem inclined to go anywhere soon, so they’d opted to explore for a bit while staying in sight. Arriving at another Universe was just as bizarre as leaving one had been. It was as if there was a reflective orb in the distance, only when you got closer it wasn’t you that it was reflecting, but a place. And if you got close enough it was as if the reflection warped and twisted itself so that it swallowed you and you were sitting in another Universe as smoothly as if you’d landed your boat at the docks. Actually the ferryboat itself was sitting in the middle of the red grass, and looked perfectly natural there as if it were supposed to sail across the sea of red grass and plants instead of up and down a river. Out in the distance the world got even stranger. To the right, he wasn’t sure what the compass direction was because the red sun appeared to be circling the horizon instead of crossing overhead in an arc, he could see bright glow that spanned the whole edge of the sky in that direction, as if the area was filled with light. And to the left the sky seemed to get darker and darker until the horizon that way was shadowed and still. “Pretty, isn’t it?” “Yes,” he breathed, still trying to take it all in. The next moment he leaped away in shock as he realized the comment had come from someone who had unexpectedly been standing beside him. It was a skeleton, somewhat similar to himself in appearance but not quite. Wearing brown pants that might have been tucked in overalls by the green straps that were sticking out from one side of the waist, a white shirt, and a long brown scarf... the skeleton’s clothing alone made a strong first impression of him. But more interesting than that were the splotch of black ink that coated the bottom right side of his jaw and the enormous paint brush that he carried on his back like a sheathed sword. Over his chest was a belt holding a series of tiny phials with heart shaped stoppers, each phial held a different colored liquid within, and altogether and in order they formed a kind of rainbow pattern. Finally, around his neck and hanging down his back was an incredibly long scarf of some brown fabric. The Skeleton was grinning at him, mischief dancing in his eye sockets, which Sans had only just realized contained some odd shapes. In his left eye, the pupil was shaped like a bright, five pointed, golden star (☆), twinkling merrily as if to say “I’m excited!” to all the world. And in his right eye the pupil took the shape of... and this left Sans feeling more bewildered than anything else, a small purple 7. But even as he watched the pupils changed shape, and again, and again. A spiral (๑), a triangle border with nothing inside (△), a check mark (✓), an eroteme (?), a small crescent moon (☽), a pair of squiggly lines that might have been either water or a double tilde (≈), a silcrow (§), a percontation point (⸮), and a very small umbrella (☂). “Hullo!” said the skeleton. “I’m Ink! Guardian of the Multiverse and Protector of AUs!” Gaster, who had turned around to see what Sans had been reacting to, was examining the newcomer with something akin to professional curiosity. “AUs?” he asked, tilting his skull slightly to the side. “Alternate Universes,” clarified Ink. “And parallel ones. And pretty much any other kind of universe that springs up. So... now that I’ve introduced myself, who are you two?” Other universes, the thought was a little frightening. Sure he’d heard Gaster practically wax poetic on the subject numerous times, and here he was standing in another universe entirely. But it was different hearing someone else talk about them existing, as if they’d seen them with their own eyes. An entire multiverse full of them. And if Ink was truly the Guardian of that Multiverse and every universe inside of it, then he must be a really important person. “I’m Sans-” he started to say, not sure whether there was special protocol for introducing yourself to a Multiverse Guardian, but Ink was already cutting him off, flapping his hand impatiently at them. “No no no. There are way too many Sanses and Gasters floating about. Even I’m a Sans. We like to use... well I guess you’d call them nicknames. They help keep us from getting confused. More confused. Some people use the name of their AU, others ” Somewhat at a loss, Sans turned to look at Gaster, who only shrugged unhelpfully. Well alright then. A nickname huh? His thoughts raced back years and years, decades, centuries, all the way to that very first therapy session with Doctor Whimsol. She’d suggested that he didn’t have to be a Sans if he didn’t feel like one. For a while he’d toyed with various other names, mostly Fonts in the style of Skeleton naming conventions. But he’d never really made anything of it. Perhaps one of the ones he’d liked would do? Something that suited him the way that he was now. He’d changed a great deal since then. There was no way anyone would think of him in formal terms, even now. But he was a bit more serious, even though he tried to stay approachable. He wasn’t suffering from depression and guilt, and he was a lot more active than he had been. So something light-hearted but serious, informal like, with a sense of movement.... It came to him and he grinned suddenly. “Mistral,” he informed the Guardian of the Multiverse. “I’m Mistral.“ Looking intrigued, Ink nodded enthusiastically. “It suits you! A little rough of a font, sort of like brush writing, but with this... um... crystal stuff on your bones, it really works.” Oh yeah, Sans had forgotten about the Kenón still growing on him. It had sped up its growth a bit in the Void, which made sense because they were already connected. Small spikes of silvery-grey crystal were now easily seen growing up from the collar of his shirt and from his sleeves, and tiny lumps were beginning to form under his usual overcoat that betrayed the crystals growing underneath. “I think,” said Gaster suddenly, “That I would like to be known as Majuscule.” Sans stared at him. “You want to be named after Capitalized Letters?” he asked incredulously. It wasn’t a font. Though they weren’t really required to stick to those if they truly didn’t want to. But it was related enough that it was odd that Gaster would want to choose that of all things for a name. The smile the scientist gave him was a smug one. “When I use the Wingdings Sign variant it really doesn’t differentiate between Minuscule and Maguscule symbols like the font does in physical writing. And since I cannot speak it out loud and adjust the volume of my speech, it is as if I am saying everything in capitalized letters, constantly speaking with maximum intensity all the time.” Oh Angel, of course Gaster would choose something that convoluted. Sans groaned and rolled his eyes, surprisingly Ink only looked amused and actually giggled, his eyes flitting between an octothorp followed immediately by an S (#S) , an ecphoneme (!), an on/off symbol, and an asterisk (*). “I’m guessing you guys are new travelers to the Multiverse. That means you’re the ones I was looking for. You see, I felt a Universe die recently, and I went to go protect it from whatever was causing it to be destroyed. But it was dying on its own, of old age. I’ve never seen a Universe do that before, reach its natural ending. Then I found a trail in the Void, the sort of paths the River Folk make when they travel, and I knew that someone must have escaped before everything fell apart. And well... here you are!” Ink smirked and stuck out his tongue in a sort of “blep” way. Somewhere in the back of his head, Sans couldn’t help but notice that the tongue was rainbow hued. But now that he was reminded, he had more important questions. “Did you see anyone else?” He asked. “A ship in the Void? Any survivors? Papyrus? Well, my Papyrus anyway. He’s the Captain of the Royal Guard. And there were a lot of people on the ship before it fell into the Void. Please, if you’ve seen anything...” He trailed off hopefully. Ink’s eyes had suddenly become two ecphonemes (!). “Wait, there are more than just you two?” asked the Guardian excitedly. “It’s pretty rare we get more than a Sans or a Gaster. For some reason the Sanses seem to be inclined to go traveling more than others, though we do get Papyruses and Gasters here and there. But I don’t recall seeing a ship...hmmm.” Then Ink reached back and pulled on his scarf. Upon closer inspection, Sans could see all kinds of writing on it, scribbles and notes. Ink was using the thing as a planner. For a moment Ink squinted down at the scarf, searching through all the notes. They could see his mouth moving as he silently muttered some of the reminders he was reading. At last he looked up. “Nope, sorry. I haven’t seen any ship. But I’ll make a note to keep an eye out for one. I definitely don’t want to miss seeing that. Oh, but I did write down something else. I found this where your universe used to be.” And digging into his pocket, Ink produced something that was difficult to see. It was like a point, but without any width, depth, surface, or length. It flickered strangely and Sans heard Gaster’s intake of breath behind him. “There it is!” said the Scientist as he stepped forward, reaching for the thing. “The last fragment. The final percentage. What bit of me are you hiding in such a small form?” His hand closed around it and he closed his eyes, looking triumphant and relieved. Just as quickly he snapped them back open again in alarm. “Sans!” “What?” “I had three assistants, Sans. Three! Not four! I don’t know who Goner actually is!” * * * The Tem had managed to push the wreckage away from itself, freeing its trapped hind leg. Nobody else was in this part of the Ship, mostly being occupied in repair work or attempts to plan and reorganize. He’d volunteered to come out here and replace the spark plugs in this area because it would make it easier to get away from people for a while. A low creak, like metal under strain, made him turn. It was similar to the sound he’d heard earlier before the ceiling fell. This ship had taken a lot of damage in the crash, it was no wonder it was all falling apart at the seams. There was no one there. Yeah, probably just more infrastructure damage from the crash that needed to be repaired. Turning back brought him face to face with the grey torso of Goner, who was looming over him with his pale whitish-grey eyes. “Your name is Bob, right?” Said Goner in an expressionless tone. It wasn’t really a question exactly. More like a statement with a question tacked onto the end like an afterthought. Suddenly Goner’s expression seemed almost sly, sinister. Perhaps it was just the lighting, but the Tem shrank from the Monster as he leaned forward. “My name is Goner, I have a feeling we’re going to be very good friends.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ink!Sans belongs to @comyet Special Thanks to @msaoa12345 for their continued reblogging, praise, and excitable and positive commentary. Without their support, this story wouldn’t be anywhere near finished.

[the-river-person]

❄︎☟︎☜︎ ☼︎✋︎✞︎☜︎☼︎ 👌︎☜︎✡︎⚐︎☠︎👎︎

████████ thoughts twisted and turned in strange ways. He wasn’t, then he was, then he was ‘almost but not quite’.  The darkness, no... it was not darkness at all. The Not-darkness pressed in on him, in him. Come with me, it seemed to say. Or maybe it was Come with us. It was hard to tell if was one voice or many, especially since he couldn’t hear any voice at all, or anything else. Interesting, very interesting, he thought, trying to pull himself back. Back to the person he was, to the █████████ , the ███████ . That is who he was, the ....something. He’d had a name, and for a while it had been loved and revered. But what was it? You don’t have a name, assured the not-voices softly in his mind. You don’t exist, just like we don’t exist. There is nothing of interest, there is nothing at all. Just nothing, forever. Come with us....Come come come... No!  ██████ thought. I am someone! I’m a █████████! I’m a  ███████! ███ ██ █████! ███ █ ██████! I’m... I’m... his thoughts faltered, swirling sluggishly in confusion. Nothing nothing nothing, the not-voice insisted, covering his attempts to protest with its endless whispering. It might be right, he reflected. What if I am nothing? And never was anything. And it was just a dream. Best forgotten. Yes, said the not-voices, just a dream. Forget about it, let it slip away. Come with us. Come and join us. Be nothing with us...

Absolutely not! He thought, filling suddenly with immense satisfaction. The things that weren’t quite voices but were definitely there somehow recoiled from his mind. You messed up, he told them shortly, thinking the words at them. A dream is something, even if its an abstract something. And so are you. I am going to study you and learn every secret you have to hide, learn everything of your existence, for you do exist, and so do I. I dream, therefore I exist. I am GASTER! Nothing, the not-voices didn’t answer him, but they were still there, he could feel their presence at the edge of his mind. They didn’t like what he’d said but didn’t know how to respond. Could he speak aloud? Could sound even travel here? Of course, that was only assuming here was even a place. Did his body exist in a physical realm at all? He tried to speak. Nothing. Fine. But if his dreams existed, then there had to be a dreamer. And a dreamer has a body. A body can... move. His skeletal hands twitched. He couldn’t see them, because he couldn’t see anything at all. But he could feel them. Maybe he could sign in Wingdings, the font he’d been named after. Usually he only used the text version when writing his personal journal entries so no one else could read them, but he’d learned a sign language variant that used the hands to speak. He tried the signs. 👎︎✌︎☼︎😐︎ [Dark] 👎︎✌︎☼︎😐︎☜︎☼︎ [DARKER] ✡︎☜︎❄︎ 👎︎✌︎☼︎😐︎☜︎☼︎ [YET DARKER] Excellent. Of course, he still could see nothing. But if he had hands, he likely had eyes as well. Eyes were necessary. Eyes were important. He blinked, and he could see. Not that there was much to see, just darkness all around. But not the nothing he’d seen before. What was this shadow? ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 👎︎✌︎☼︎😐︎☠︎☜︎💧︎💧︎ 😐︎☜︎☜︎🏱︎💧︎ ☝︎☼︎⚐︎🕈︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ [THE DARKNESS KEEPS GROWING] ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 💧︎☟︎✌︎👎︎⚐︎🕈︎💧︎ 👍︎🕆︎❄︎❄︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ 👎︎☜︎☜︎🏱︎☜︎☼︎ [THE SHADOWS CUTTING DEEPER] He could see his hands now, and the rest of his body came into view. Complex sentences were possible with the signs. But they weren’t as eloquent as the variant he wrote in the journals. Were more scientific phrases possible? 🏱︎☟︎⚐︎❄︎⚐︎☠︎ ☼︎☜︎✌︎👎︎✋︎☠︎☝︎💧︎ ☠︎☜︎☝︎✌︎❄︎✋︎✞︎☜︎ [PHOTON READINGS NEGATIVE] ❄︎☟︎✋︎💧︎ ☠︎☜︎✠︎❄︎ ☜︎✠︎🏱︎☜︎☼︎✋︎💣︎☜︎☠︎❄︎ [THIS NEXT EXPERIMENT] 💧︎☜︎☜︎💣︎💧︎ [SEEMS] ✞︎☜︎☼︎✡︎ [VERY] ✞︎☜︎☼︎✡︎ [VERY] ✋︎☠︎❄︎☜︎☼︎☜︎💧︎❄︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ [INTERESTING] Perfect. With these tools of communication, crude though they might be, he would be able to maintain his existence even here in this Void. This... Nothing. He could study, he could work, he could... find a way out. Possibly. At the very least he could attempt to understand this situation, and whatever the not-voices were. 📬︎📬︎📬︎ [...] Without thinking he turned to ask the question of those next to him, feeling for a moment as if he were back in his labs and surrounded by other scientists and assistants. 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 👎︎⚐︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ❄︎🕈︎⚐︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎☠︎😐︎ [WHAT DO YOU TWO THINK] Then all at once, he was, and there were two others. He only registered their presence when he asked them his question. A ferryboat, no. Not just any ferryboat. It was the River Person’s Ferry. The River Person was there as well, draped in a hood and cloak that draped his features in impenetrable shadow, obscuring them from eve the most discerning eye. And sitting in the boat with him was... Sans! The moment the boat reached him and Gaster stepped onboard his thoughts swirled back into focus, and he found that once more he was thinking in a straightforward manner. “Thank you,” he said to the River Person. Oh, he could speak again. Excellent. “How did you find us? In fact, how are you here at all? In just a boat?“ Slowly the River Person turned to look at him. “I am the River Person. My ferry follows the rivers, even if you cannot see them. Even in the Void, where Nothing persists, there are rivers to follow. I will ferry you to a safe place, a world, universe, dimension where you can recover and decide what to do. Gaster glanced at Sans, who seemed dazed and wasn’t about to speak any time soon. On the skeleton’s bones he could see the silvery crystals growing at a much increased paced due to exposure to the void. They would soon grow up onto his skull by the look of things. “Hmmm, what of the others? Was the ship able to return for them?” The River Person shook their head. “No. It was thrown into the Void unprepared. Who knows where it will surface? I could not find it, though I searched.” “Can we go back for them?” Both the River Person and Gaster jumped slightly, it seemed that Sans had found his voice after all. “No,” responded the River Person. Sans bristled and even Gaster opened his mouth to argue that perhaps they were being a bit hasty and they could at least consider the idea of going back. But the River Person wasn’t finished speaking. “There is nothing left. That Universe is gone. The stars, the planets, the black holes. Everything. Including the little Underground. Your friends, I’m afraid, are gone too. The Angel came for them.“ Angel? Gaster blinked, trying to work out what they meant. Was that a euphemism for death? Like the prophecy? Apparently Sans was thinking along the same lines because his question echoed Gaster’s thoughts. “Does that mean they’re all dead? Did someone kill them? Or did they just die without power or food?” But the River Person was shaking their head again. “I told you. The Angel came for them. To take them away. Where? I do not know. Are they dead? Perhaps, though the Angel might have considered that mercy under those circumstances. I cannot be sure. All I know is that I warned you the Angel was coming, and you did not listen. And then the Angel came.” They didn’t ask any more questions, Sans looking distraught and on the verge of a breakdown, and Gaster wrestling with the idea that an actual Angel existed somehow. And on the River Person took them in the boat, drifting lazily through shadows, to some unknown destination. It seemed that they, like the river, could not return to their source. Where then did their destination lie? Perhaps, thought Gaster as he gazed out into empty shadows, the Angel will be kind enough to guide our way. The End

(there will be an epilogue coming)

[the-river-person]

Human Soul

A spark leapt from the circuit board that Alphys was working on, but she hardly noticed. Essentially she was putting the finishing touches on the ship’s environmental systems. The Human Soul of Kindness had offered to oversee the system from the inside, adjusting manually what normally a computer AI would be doing. Unlike a computer it would be able to assess a system based on the Monsters using it and what they needed and wanted rather than what streams of impersonal data told it they wanted. All of the souls had volunteered willingly enough. It had been quite a shock to see it. The King and Queen had resisted Doctor Gaster’s plan quite adamantly, backed by their son. Even Alphys had been called in for her opinion on it, and she squirmed with embarrassment at the memory of herself standing there and struggling to choke the words out while her anxiety skyrocketed. But she’d pointed out that the Souls might be the only way to actually power the ship at this point, since they had no other source. Not one readily available at least. That hadn’t pleased the Royal Family in the least and more experts were called in. Even Isa was brought in, and Papyrus in his role as Captain of the Royal Guard, and Sans as a former scientist and current psychologist. The argument had gone on for more than an hour, and she’d found herself shrinking back behind the others, not really wanting to be a part of this as voices had raised higher and higher. It was the only time she’d ever actually seen Doctor Gaster look angry. He was gesticulating wildly, illustrating his words with grandiose movements of his arms and skeletal hands, his eyes tinged red with fury. Toe to toe with him was Queen Toriel, her own hands practically smoking as she resisted the urge to summon fire. Asgore too was hanging back from everything, looking as if he wished he was anywhere else while his son and wife led the front line of the heated argument. Then something changed. A sound like shattering glass cut through the sound in an instant. Everyone went quiet and turned to look as something soared in through the doorway. It was the human souls. She’d never imagined that they had only stayed in the containers because they wished to, that they were never truly trapped at all. But the moment they decided to make a move, they simply shattered their prisons and moved on as if it were nothing. They couldn’t really speak, not directly. But Asriel was able to translate, having once been connected with them. In the end, Gaster’s plan had been the one they chose. Insisting on the need for leaving this world. What they had actually called it was “This dying world”, but Alphys was trying not to think about that. Each of the different Souls ran one of the main systems. Kindness was the environmental controls, Bravery was the Tactical and Defense system, Perseverance was the Emergency Operations system and various auxiliary systems that responded in case of malfunction in any of ship’s other systems, Integrity ran the sensor stations and the communication system, Patience headed the Navigation system, and Justice oversaw the Command systems. Together with the crew of the ship, they would work as a team to move them through whatever they found in the Void. Not that she entirely understood what they’d be facing there. Gaster’s explanation had been...convoluted. She smirked and closed the panel, satisfied that it was finished. “ALPHYS!” What? That was Papyrus. What was he doing here? And why did he sound... distressed? The tall skeleton, seeming quite authoritative and dashing in his uniform, burst through the door. From the noise outside it seemed like he’d run down the steps of Gaster’s cavern where the ship was and ordered scientists and workmen out of his way without stopping. She stood up and dusted herself off, giving him her full attention. This must be serious. What came out of his mouth next spread ice through her veins. “DOCTOR ALPHYS, WE NEED YOUR HELP! ISA IS GRAVELY ILL! WE’VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE IT!”

[the-river-person]

Entry Number 13

✌︎ ⬧︎⧫︎❒︎♋︎■︎♑︎♏︎ ♎︎♓︎⬧︎♍︎□︎❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎📬︎ [A︎ s︎t︎r︎a︎n︎g︎e︎ d︎i︎s︎c︎o︎v︎e︎r︎y︎.︎]

🏱︎♏︎❒︎◆︎⬧︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⧫︎♒︎❒︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ◻︎❒︎♏︎❖︎♓︎□︎◆︎⬧︎ ♏︎■︎⧫︎❒︎♓︎♏︎⬧︎ ♒︎♋︎⬧︎ ❒︎♏︎❖︎♏︎♋︎●︎♏︎♎︎ ❍︎□︎❒︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎■︎ □︎■︎♏︎ ♏︎❒︎❒︎□︎■︎♏︎□︎◆︎⬧︎ ♍︎□︎■︎♍︎●︎◆︎⬧︎♓︎□︎■︎📬︎ [P︎e︎r︎u︎s︎i︎n︎g︎ t︎h︎r︎o︎u︎g︎h︎ m︎y︎ p︎r︎e︎v︎i︎o︎u︎s︎ e︎n︎t︎r︎i︎e︎s︎ h︎a︎s︎ r︎e︎v︎e︎a︎l︎e︎d︎ m︎o︎r︎e︎ t︎h︎a︎n︎ o︎n︎e︎ e︎r︎r︎o︎n︎e︎o︎u︎s︎ c︎o︎n︎c︎l︎u︎s︎i︎o︎n︎.︎]

☠︎□︎⧫︎ □︎■︎●︎⍓︎ ♎︎♓︎♎︎ ✋︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ❒︎♏︎♍︎♋︎●︎●︎ ✌︎●︎◻︎♒︎⍓︎⬧︎ ♋︎⧫︎ ♋︎●︎●︎📪︎ ♎︎♏︎⬧︎◻︎♓︎⧫︎♏︎ ♒︎♋︎❖︎♓︎■︎♑︎ 🙵■︎□︎⬥︎■︎ ♒︎♏︎❒︎ ⬥︎♏︎●︎●︎ ♏︎■︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎📪︎ ♌︎◆︎⧫︎ ✋︎ ♋︎●︎⬧︎□︎ ❍︎♋︎♎︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ❍︎♓︎⬧︎⧫︎♋︎🙵♏︎ □︎♐︎ ♋︎⬧︎⬧︎◆︎❍︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ❒︎□︎♍︎🙵 □︎♐︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ♍︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ♋︎ ■︎♋︎⧫︎◆︎❒︎♋︎●︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎❍︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎📬︎ [N︎o︎t︎ o︎n︎l︎y︎ d︎i︎d︎ I︎ n︎o︎t︎ r︎e︎c︎a︎l︎l︎ A︎l︎p︎h︎y︎s︎ a︎t︎ a︎l︎l︎,︎ d︎e︎s︎p︎i︎t︎e︎ h︎a︎v︎i︎n︎g︎ kn︎o︎w︎n︎ h︎e︎r︎ w︎e︎l︎l︎ e︎n︎o︎u︎g︎h︎,︎ b︎u︎t︎ I︎ a︎l︎s︎o︎ m︎a︎d︎e︎ t︎h︎e︎ m︎i︎s︎t︎a︎ke︎ o︎f︎ a︎s︎s︎u︎m︎i︎n︎g︎ t︎h︎e︎ r︎o︎c︎k o︎f︎ m︎y︎ c︎a︎v︎e︎ w︎a︎s︎ a︎ n︎a︎t︎u︎r︎a︎l︎ f︎o︎r︎m︎a︎t︎i︎o︎n︎.︎]

✋︎⧫︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ⧫︎❒︎◆︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♓︎⧫︎ 🙵♏︎◻︎⧫︎ ❍︎♏︎ ♋︎●︎♓︎❖︎♏︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♓︎■︎ ♋︎ ⬧︎♓︎■︎♑︎●︎♏︎ ⬥︎□︎❒︎🙵♓︎■︎♑︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎❍︎ ♎︎♏︎⬧︎◻︎♓︎⧫︎♏︎ ♒︎□︎⬥︎ ❍︎◆︎♍︎♒︎ □︎♐︎ ❍︎♏︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ⬧︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎♏︎♎︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ⬧︎♍︎♋︎⧫︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎♏︎♎︎ □︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ⧫︎♓︎❍︎♏︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ⬧︎◻︎♋︎♍︎♏︎📪︎ ♌︎◆︎⧫︎ ✋︎ ♎︎□︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ♌︎♏︎●︎♓︎♏︎❖︎♏︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ♋︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎❍︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ⬥︎□︎◆︎●︎♎︎ ♒︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ □︎♍︎♍︎◆︎❒︎❒︎♏︎♎︎ ♓︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ⬥︎□︎❒︎●︎♎︎ ■︎♋︎⧫︎◆︎❒︎♋︎●︎●︎⍓︎📪︎ ❍︎♋︎♑︎♓︎♍︎ □︎❒︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎📬︎ [I︎t︎ i︎s︎ t︎r︎u︎e︎ t︎h︎a︎t︎ i︎t︎ ke︎p︎t︎ m︎e︎ a︎l︎i︎v︎e︎ a︎n︎d︎ i︎n︎ a︎ s︎i︎n︎g︎l︎e︎ w︎o︎r︎ki︎n︎g︎ f︎o︎r︎m︎ d︎e︎s︎p︎i︎t︎e︎ h︎o︎w︎ m︎u︎c︎h︎ o︎f︎ m︎e︎ w︎a︎s︎ s︎h︎a︎t︎t︎e︎r︎e︎d︎ a︎n︎d︎ s︎c︎a︎t︎t︎e︎r︎e︎d︎ o︎v︎e︎r︎ t︎i︎m︎e︎ a︎n︎d︎ s︎p︎a︎c︎e︎,︎ b︎u︎t︎ I︎ d︎o︎ n︎o︎t︎ b︎e︎l︎i︎e︎v︎e︎ i︎t︎ i︎s︎ a︎ f︎o︎r︎m︎a︎t︎i︎o︎n︎ t︎h︎a︎t︎ w︎o︎u︎l︎d︎ h︎a︎v︎e︎ o︎c︎c︎u︎r︎r︎e︎d︎ i︎n︎ t︎h︎i︎s︎ w︎o︎r︎l︎d︎ n︎a︎t︎u︎r︎a︎l︎l︎y︎,︎ m︎a︎g︎i︎c︎ o︎r︎ n︎o︎t︎.︎]

❄︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎⧫︎□︎■︎♏︎ ♓︎⧫︎⬧︎♏︎●︎♐︎ ♋︎◻︎◻︎♏︎♋︎❒︎⬧︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♌︎♏︎ ♋︎ 🙵♓︎■︎♎︎ □︎♐︎ □︎❒︎♏︎📪︎ ♑︎❒︎♏︎⍓︎ ♋︎⧫︎ ♐︎♓︎❒︎⬧︎⧫︎ ♋︎◻︎◻︎♏︎♋︎❒︎♋︎■︎♍︎♏︎ ♌︎◆︎⧫︎ ◆︎◻︎□︎■︎ ♍︎●︎□︎⬧︎♏︎❒︎ ♓︎■︎⬧︎◻︎♏︎♍︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ ♋︎◻︎◻︎♏︎♋︎❒︎⬧︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♌︎♏︎ ♋︎ ⬧︎⧫︎❒︎♋︎■︎♑︎♏︎ ⬧︎♓︎●︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ♍︎□︎●︎□︎❒︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ❖︎♏︎♓︎■︎⬧︎ □︎♐︎ ♌︎●︎♋︎♍︎🙵📬︎ ✋︎ ⧫︎□︎□︎🙵 ⬧︎♋︎❍︎◻︎●︎♏︎⬧︎ □︎♐︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♓︎■︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ❍︎♋︎🙵♏︎⬧︎♒︎♓︎♐︎⧫︎ ●︎♋︎♌︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♏︎⌧︎♋︎❍︎♓︎■︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎❍︎📪︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♐︎□︎◆︎■︎♎︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♌︎●︎♋︎♍︎🙵 ❖︎♏︎♓︎■︎⬧︎ ♋︎❒︎♏︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ♋︎ ⬧︎♏︎◻︎♋︎❒︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎ ❍︎♓︎■︎♏︎❒︎♋︎●︎ ♋︎⧫︎ ♋︎●︎●︎ ♌︎◆︎⧫︎ ❍︎♏︎❒︎♏︎●︎⍓︎ ♐︎●︎♋︎⬥︎⬧︎ ♓︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎♓︎●︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ❍︎♓︎■︎♏︎❒︎♋︎●︎📪︎ ⬥︎♒︎♓︎♍︎♒︎ ⧫︎◆︎❒︎■︎♏︎♎︎ □︎◆︎⧫︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♌︎♏︎ ♍︎❒︎⍓︎⬧︎⧫︎♋︎●︎●︎♓︎■︎♏︎ ♓︎■︎ ■︎♋︎⧫︎◆︎❒︎♏︎📬︎ [T︎h︎e︎ s︎t︎o︎n︎e︎ i︎t︎s︎e︎l︎f︎ a︎p︎p︎e︎a︎r︎s︎ t︎o︎ b︎e︎ a︎ ki︎n︎d︎ o︎f︎ o︎r︎e︎,︎ g︎r︎e︎y︎ a︎t︎ f︎i︎r︎s︎t︎ a︎p︎p︎e︎a︎r︎a︎n︎c︎e︎ b︎u︎t︎ u︎p︎o︎n︎ c︎l︎o︎s︎e︎r︎ i︎n︎s︎p︎e︎c︎t︎i︎o︎n︎ a︎p︎p︎e︎a︎r︎s︎ t︎o︎ b︎e︎ a︎ s︎t︎r︎a︎n︎g︎e︎ s︎i︎l︎v︎e︎r︎ c︎o︎l︎o︎r︎ w︎i︎t︎h︎ v︎e︎i︎n︎s︎ o︎f︎ b︎l︎a︎c︎k.︎ I︎ t︎o︎o︎k s︎a︎m︎p︎l︎e︎s︎ o︎f︎ i︎t︎ a︎n︎d︎ i︎n︎ m︎y︎ m︎a︎ke︎s︎h︎i︎f︎t︎ l︎a︎b︎ t︎o︎ e︎x︎a︎m︎i︎n︎e︎ t︎h︎e︎m︎,︎ a︎n︎d︎ f︎o︎u︎n︎d︎ t︎h︎a︎t︎ t︎h︎e︎ b︎l︎a︎c︎k v︎e︎i︎n︎s︎ a︎r︎e︎ n︎o︎t︎ a︎ s︎e︎p︎a︎r︎a︎t︎e︎ m︎i︎n︎e︎r︎a︎l︎ a︎t︎ a︎l︎l︎ b︎u︎t︎ m︎e︎r︎e︎l︎y︎ f︎l︎a︎w︎s︎ i︎n︎ t︎h︎e︎ s︎i︎l︎v︎e︎r︎ m︎i︎n︎e︎r︎a︎l︎,︎ w︎h︎i︎c︎h︎ t︎u︎r︎n︎e︎d︎ o︎u︎t︎ t︎o︎ b︎e︎ c︎r︎y︎s︎t︎a︎l︎l︎i︎n︎e︎ i︎n︎ n︎a︎t︎u︎r︎e︎.︎]

✞︎♋︎❒︎♓︎□︎◆︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎⬧︎ ❒︎♏︎❖︎♏︎♋︎●︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ♏︎■︎⧫︎♓︎❒︎♏︎ ❒︎□︎□︎❍︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ◻︎♋︎❒︎⧫︎ □︎♐︎ ♋︎ ❍︎◆︎♍︎♒︎ ●︎♋︎❒︎♑︎♏︎❒︎ ❖︎♏︎♓︎■︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎⧫︎◆︎♐︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ❍︎♋︎⍓︎ ♑︎□︎ ❑︎◆︎♓︎⧫︎♏︎ ♎︎♏︎♏︎◻︎ ♓︎■︎⧫︎□︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♏︎♋︎❒︎⧫︎♒︎📬︎❄︎♒︎♏︎ ❒︎♏︎♋︎⬧︎□︎■︎⬧︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎ ♓︎⧫︎⬧︎ ⬧︎⧫︎❒︎♋︎■︎♑︎♏︎ ◻︎❒︎□︎◻︎♏︎❒︎⧫︎♓︎♏︎⬧︎ ♏︎●︎◆︎♎︎♏︎♎︎ ❍︎♏︎ ♋︎⧫︎ ♐︎♓︎❒︎⬧︎⧫︎📪︎ ◆︎■︎⧫︎♓︎●︎ □︎■︎♏︎ □︎♐︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ♋︎⬧︎⬧︎♓︎⬧︎⧫︎♋︎■︎⧫︎⬧︎ ♌︎❒︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎ ❍︎♏︎ ♋︎ ●︎♓︎⧫︎⧫︎●︎♏︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ■︎♏︎⬥︎ 💧︎□︎●︎◆︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎⍓︎🕯︎❖︎♏︎ ♌︎♏︎♏︎■︎ ♓︎■︎□︎♍︎◆︎●︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ 💣︎□︎■︎⬧︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎⬧︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ 🕆︎■︎♎︎♏︎❒︎♑︎❒︎□︎◆︎■︎♎︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎📬︎ [V︎a︎r︎i︎o︎u︎s︎ t︎e︎s︎t︎s︎ r︎e︎v︎e︎a︎l︎e︎d︎ t︎h︎a︎t︎ t︎h︎i︎s︎ e︎n︎t︎i︎r︎e︎ r︎o︎o︎m︎ i︎s︎ p︎a︎r︎t︎ o︎f︎ a︎ m︎u︎c︎h︎ l︎a︎r︎g︎e︎r︎ v︎e︎i︎n︎ o︎f︎ t︎h︎e︎ s︎t︎u︎f︎f︎ t︎h︎a︎t︎ m︎a︎y︎ g︎o︎ q︎u︎i︎t︎e︎ d︎e︎e︎p︎ i︎n︎t︎o︎ t︎h︎e︎ e︎a︎r︎t︎h︎.︎T︎h︎e︎ r︎e︎a︎s︎o︎n︎s︎ f︎o︎r︎ i︎t︎s︎ s︎t︎r︎a︎n︎g︎e︎ p︎r︎o︎p︎e︎r︎t︎i︎e︎s︎ e︎l︎u︎d︎e︎d︎ m︎e︎ a︎t︎ f︎i︎r︎s︎t︎,︎ u︎n︎t︎i︎l︎ o︎n︎e︎ o︎f︎ m︎y︎ a︎s︎s︎i︎s︎t︎a︎n︎t︎s︎ b︎r︎o︎u︎g︎h︎t︎ m︎e︎ a︎ l︎i︎t︎t︎l︎e︎ o︎f︎ t︎h︎e︎ n︎e︎w︎ S︎o︎l︎u︎t︎i︎o︎n︎ t︎h︎e︎y︎'︎v︎e︎ b︎e︎e︎n︎ i︎n︎o︎c︎u︎l︎a︎t︎i︎n︎g︎ t︎h︎e︎ M︎o︎n︎s︎t︎e︎r︎s︎ o︎f︎ t︎h︎e︎ U︎n︎d︎e︎r︎g︎r︎o︎u︎n︎d︎ w︎i︎t︎h︎.︎]

✌︎♎︎♎︎♓︎⧫︎♓︎❖︎♏︎⬧︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ❍︎♓︎⌧︎⧫︎◆︎❒︎♏︎ ♍︎♋︎◆︎⬧︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♍︎❒︎⍓︎⬧︎⧫︎♋︎●︎●︎♓︎■︎♏︎ □︎❒︎♏︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⬧︎♏︎◻︎♋︎❒︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎ ♐︎❒︎□︎❍︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎♏︎♎︎♓︎❍︎♏︎■︎⧫︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ◻︎♋︎❒︎⧫︎ □︎♐︎📪︎ ●︎♏︎♋︎❖︎♓︎■︎♑︎ □︎■︎●︎⍓︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ◆︎■︎◻︎□︎●︎♓︎⬧︎♒︎♏︎♎︎ ♌︎◆︎⧫︎ ◻︎◆︎❒︎♏︎ ♍︎❒︎⍓︎⬧︎⧫︎♋︎●︎⬧︎📬︎ ⚐︎■︎●︎⍓︎ □︎■︎♏︎ □︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♒︎♋︎⬧︎ ❒︎♏︎♋︎♍︎⧫︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ⬥︎♋︎⍓︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⧫︎❒︎♋︎♓︎⧫︎⬧︎ ♏︎⌧︎⧫︎❒︎♋︎♍︎⧫︎♏︎♎︎ ♐︎❒︎□︎❍︎ 💧︎□︎◆︎●︎⬧︎📬︎ ✋︎ ◆︎⬧︎♏︎♎︎ 👎︎♏︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎❍︎♓︎■︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ ♒︎♏︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♋︎ ◻︎●︎♋︎⬧︎❍︎♋︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎♍︎♏︎ □︎◻︎♏︎■︎ ♋︎ ♐︎♓︎⬧︎⬧︎◆︎❒︎♏︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ✞︎□︎♓︎♎︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎ ❍︎□︎❒︎♏︎ ✋︎ ♏︎⌧︎◻︎♏︎❒︎♓︎❍︎♏︎■︎⧫︎ □︎■︎ ♓︎⧫︎📪︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ❍︎□︎❒︎♏︎ ♍︎□︎■︎❖︎♓︎■︎♍︎♏︎♎︎ ✋︎ ♌︎♏︎♍︎□︎❍︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ❍︎♓︎■︎♏︎❒︎♋︎●︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ❒︎♏︎●︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ✞︎□︎♓︎♎︎📬︎ [A︎d︎d︎i︎t︎i︎v︎e︎s︎ o︎f︎ t︎h︎e︎ m︎i︎x︎t︎u︎r︎e︎ c︎a︎u︎s︎e︎d︎ t︎h︎e︎ c︎r︎y︎s︎t︎a︎l︎l︎i︎n︎e︎ o︎r︎e︎ t︎o︎ s︎e︎p︎a︎r︎a︎t︎e︎ f︎r︎o︎m︎ t︎h︎e︎ s︎e︎d︎i︎m︎e︎n︎t︎ i︎t︎ w︎a︎s︎ p︎a︎r︎t︎ o︎f︎,︎ l︎e︎a︎v︎i︎n︎g︎ o︎n︎l︎y︎ t︎h︎e︎ u︎n︎p︎o︎l︎i︎s︎h︎e︎d︎ b︎u︎t︎ p︎u︎r︎e︎ c︎r︎y︎s︎t︎a︎l︎s︎.︎ O︎n︎l︎y︎ o︎n︎e︎ o︎t︎h︎e︎r︎ t︎h︎i︎n︎g︎ h︎a︎s︎ r︎e︎a︎c︎t︎e︎d︎ t︎h︎i︎s︎ w︎a︎y︎ t︎o︎ t︎r︎a︎i︎t︎s︎ e︎x︎t︎r︎a︎c︎t︎e︎d︎ f︎r︎o︎m︎ S︎o︎u︎l︎s︎.︎ I︎ u︎s︎e︎d︎ D︎e︎t︎e︎r︎m︎i︎n︎a︎t︎i︎o︎n︎ h︎e︎a︎t︎e︎d︎ t︎o︎ a︎ p︎l︎a︎s︎m︎a︎ s︎t︎a︎t︎e︎ t︎o︎ f︎o︎r︎c︎e︎ o︎p︎e︎n︎ a︎ f︎i︎s︎s︎u︎r︎e︎ t︎o︎ t︎h︎e︎ V︎o︎i︎d︎.︎ T︎h︎e︎ m︎o︎r︎e︎ I︎ e︎x︎p︎e︎r︎i︎m︎e︎n︎t︎ o︎n︎ i︎t︎,︎ t︎h︎e︎ m︎o︎r︎e︎ c︎o︎n︎v︎i︎n︎c︎e︎d︎ I︎ b︎e︎c︎o︎m︎e︎ t︎h︎a︎t︎ t︎h︎i︎s︎ m︎i︎n︎e︎r︎a︎l︎ i︎s︎ r︎e︎l︎a︎t︎e︎d︎ t︎o︎ t︎h︎a︎t︎ V︎o︎i︎d︎.︎]

🏱︎♏︎❒︎♒︎♋︎◻︎⬧︎ ♋︎ ■︎♋︎⧫︎◆︎❒︎♋︎●︎ ☞︎♓︎⬧︎⬧︎◆︎❒︎♏︎✍︎ 🕆︎■︎●︎♓︎🙵♏︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ♋︎❒︎⧫︎♓︎♐︎♓︎♍︎♓︎♋︎●︎ ♏︎■︎⧫︎❒︎♋︎■︎♍︎♏︎📪︎ ♋︎ ■︎♋︎⧫︎◆︎❒︎♋︎●︎ □︎■︎♏︎ ❍︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎ ♌︎♏︎ ⬧︎❍︎♋︎●︎●︎♏︎❒︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ □︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ⧫︎♓︎❍︎♏︎ ♍︎♋︎◆︎⬧︎♏︎ ♍︎♒︎♋︎■︎♑︎♏︎⬧︎ ♓︎■︎ ♋︎■︎⍓︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♓︎❍︎❍︎♏︎♎︎♓︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎●︎⍓︎ ♋︎❒︎□︎◆︎■︎♎︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎❒︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎ ♓︎⧫︎⬧︎ ❒︎♋︎♎︎♓︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎📬︎ 💣︎⍓︎ ♋︎⬧︎⬧︎♓︎⬧︎⧫︎♋︎■︎⧫︎⬧︎ ⬥︎♏︎❒︎♏︎ ♏︎⌧︎◻︎□︎⬧︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⬧︎◆︎♍︎♒︎ ❒︎♋︎♎︎♓︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♐︎□︎◆︎■︎♎︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎♓︎❒︎ ❍︎♓︎■︎♎︎⬧︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♌︎□︎♎︎♓︎♏︎⬧︎ ♎︎❒︎♋︎⬧︎⧫︎♓︎♍︎♋︎●︎●︎⍓︎ ♍︎♒︎♋︎■︎♑︎♏︎♎︎📬︎ ✋︎ ❍︎⍓︎⬧︎♏︎●︎♐︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ⬧︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎♏︎♎︎ ♋︎♍︎❒︎□︎⬧︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♓︎❍︎♏︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ⬧︎◻︎♋︎♍︎♏︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ □︎■︎●︎⍓︎ ⬧︎◆︎❒︎❖︎♓︎❖︎♏︎♎︎ ♓︎■︎♓︎⧫︎♓︎♋︎●︎●︎⍓︎ ♌︎♏︎♍︎♋︎◆︎⬧︎♏︎ ✋︎ ♐︎♏︎●︎●︎ ♓︎■︎⧫︎□︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ 🏱︎●︎♋︎⬧︎❍︎♋︎ 👎︎♏︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎❍︎♓︎■︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ ♓︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ 👍︎□︎❒︎♏︎📬︎ [P︎e︎r︎h︎a︎p︎s︎ a︎ n︎a︎t︎u︎r︎a︎l︎ F︎i︎s︎s︎u︎r︎e︎?︎ U︎n︎l︎i︎ke︎ m︎y︎ a︎r︎t︎i︎f︎i︎c︎i︎a︎l︎ e︎n︎t︎r︎a︎n︎c︎e︎,︎ a︎ n︎a︎t︎u︎r︎a︎l︎ o︎n︎e︎ m︎i︎g︎h︎t︎ b︎e︎ s︎m︎a︎l︎l︎e︎r︎ a︎n︎d︎ o︎v︎e︎r︎ t︎i︎m︎e︎ c︎a︎u︎s︎e︎ c︎h︎a︎n︎g︎e︎s︎ i︎n︎ a︎n︎y︎t︎h︎i︎n︎g︎ i︎m︎m︎e︎d︎i︎a︎t︎e︎l︎y︎ a︎r︎o︎u︎n︎d︎ i︎t︎ t︎h︎r︎o︎u︎g︎h︎ i︎t︎s︎ r︎a︎d︎i︎a︎t︎i︎o︎n︎.︎ M︎y︎ a︎s︎s︎i︎s︎t︎a︎n︎t︎s︎ w︎e︎r︎e︎ e︎x︎p︎o︎s︎e︎d︎ t︎o︎ s︎u︎c︎h︎ r︎a︎d︎i︎a︎t︎i︎o︎n︎ a︎n︎d︎ f︎o︎u︎n︎d︎ t︎h︎e︎i︎r︎ m︎i︎n︎d︎s︎ a︎n︎d︎ b︎o︎d︎i︎e︎s︎ d︎r︎a︎s︎t︎i︎c︎a︎l︎l︎y︎ c︎h︎a︎n︎g︎e︎d︎.︎ I︎ m︎y︎s︎e︎l︎f︎ w︎a︎s︎ s︎h︎a︎t︎t︎e︎r︎e︎d︎ a︎c︎r︎o︎s︎s︎ t︎i︎m︎e︎ a︎n︎d︎ s︎p︎a︎c︎e︎ a︎n︎d︎ o︎n︎l︎y︎ s︎u︎r︎v︎i︎v︎e︎d︎ i︎n︎i︎t︎i︎a︎l︎l︎y︎ b︎e︎c︎a︎u︎s︎e︎ I︎ f︎e︎l︎l︎ i︎n︎t︎o︎ t︎h︎e︎ P︎l︎a︎s︎m︎a︎ D︎e︎t︎e︎r︎m︎i︎n︎a︎t︎i︎o︎n︎ i︎n︎ t︎h︎e︎ C︎o︎r︎e︎.︎]

✋︎ ♒︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ ❍︎♋︎■︎⍓︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎□︎❒︎♓︎♏︎⬧︎ ♋︎♌︎□︎◆︎⧫︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♍︎□︎◆︎●︎♎︎ ♌︎♏︎ ♎︎□︎■︎♏︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ⬧︎◆︎♍︎♒︎ ♋︎ ❍︎♓︎■︎♏︎❒︎♋︎●︎📬︎ ✋︎■︎ ♓︎⧫︎⬧︎ □︎❒︎♎︎♓︎■︎♋︎❒︎⍓︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ♋︎♌︎●︎♏︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♒︎□︎●︎♎︎ ❍︎♏︎ ⧫︎□︎♑︎♏︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎ ⬥︎♒︎♓︎●︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♏︎⌧︎♍︎♏︎⬧︎⬧︎ 👎︎♏︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎❍︎♓︎■︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ ♓︎■︎ ❍︎♏︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ 🙵♏︎◻︎⧫︎ ❍︎♏︎ ♋︎●︎♓︎❖︎♏︎📬︎ [I︎ h︎a︎v︎e︎ m︎a︎n︎y︎ t︎h︎e︎o︎r︎i︎e︎s︎ a︎b︎o︎u︎t︎ w︎h︎a︎t︎ c︎o︎u︎l︎d︎ b︎e︎ d︎o︎n︎e︎ w︎i︎t︎h︎ s︎u︎c︎h︎ a︎ m︎i︎n︎e︎r︎a︎l︎.︎ I︎n︎ i︎t︎s︎ o︎r︎d︎i︎n︎a︎r︎y︎ s︎t︎a︎t︎e︎ i︎t︎ w︎a︎s︎ a︎b︎l︎e︎ t︎o︎ h︎o︎l︎d︎ m︎e︎ t︎o︎g︎e︎t︎h︎e︎r︎ w︎h︎i︎l︎e︎ t︎h︎e︎ e︎x︎c︎e︎s︎s︎ D︎e︎t︎e︎r︎m︎i︎n︎a︎t︎i︎o︎n︎ i︎n︎ m︎e︎ i︎s︎ w︎h︎a︎t︎ ke︎p︎t︎ m︎e︎ a︎l︎i︎v︎e︎.︎]

☜︎❖︎♏︎■︎⧫︎◆︎♋︎●︎●︎⍓︎ ✋︎ ♎︎♏︎♍︎♓︎♎︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ■︎♋︎❍︎♏︎ ♓︎⧫︎📪︎ ⬧︎♓︎■︎♍︎♏︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ♍︎●︎♏︎♋︎❒︎●︎⍓︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ♋︎■︎⍓︎ ❍︎♓︎■︎♏︎❒︎♋︎●︎ ✋︎ ♒︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ ♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ 🙵■︎□︎⬥︎■︎📬︎ ✋︎🕯︎❖︎♏︎ ♍︎♋︎●︎●︎♏︎♎︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ✂︎😐︎♏︎■︎⬄︎■︎✂︎ ♋︎♐︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎ ♋︎■︎ □︎●︎♎︎ ⬥︎□︎❒︎♎︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎ ♏︎❍︎◻︎⧫︎♓︎■︎♏︎⬧︎⬧︎ □︎❒︎ ❖︎□︎♓︎♎︎📪︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ♋︎◻︎◻︎♏︎♋︎❒︎⬧︎ ●︎♓︎♐︎♏︎●︎♏︎⬧︎⬧︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♑︎❒︎♏︎⍓︎ ●︎♓︎🙵♏︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ✌︎⬧︎⬧︎♓︎⬧︎⧫︎♋︎■︎⧫︎⬧︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ♍︎□︎■︎■︎♏︎♍︎⧫︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ⬧︎⧫︎❒︎♋︎■︎♑︎♏︎ ❖︎□︎♓︎♎︎ ✋︎ ♍︎♋︎◆︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎ ♋︎ ♑︎●︎♓︎❍︎◻︎⬧︎♏︎ □︎♐︎📪︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ⬥︎♒︎♓︎♍︎♒︎ ❒︎♏︎❍︎♓︎■︎♎︎⬧︎ ❍︎♏︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ◻︎❒︎♓︎❍︎□︎❒︎♎︎♓︎♋︎●︎ 👍︎♒︎♋︎□︎⬧︎ □︎♐︎ ♋︎■︎♍︎♓︎♏︎■︎⧫︎ ❍︎⍓︎⧫︎♒︎📬︎ [E︎v︎e︎n︎t︎u︎a︎l︎l︎y︎ I︎ d︎e︎c︎i︎d︎e︎d︎ t︎o︎ n︎a︎m︎e︎ i︎t︎,︎ s︎i︎n︎c︎e︎ i︎t︎ w︎a︎s︎ c︎l︎e︎a︎r︎l︎y︎ n︎o︎t︎ a︎n︎y︎ m︎i︎n︎e︎r︎a︎l︎ I︎ h︎a︎v︎e︎ e︎v︎e︎r︎ kn︎o︎w︎n︎.︎ I︎'︎v︎e︎ c︎a︎l︎l︎e︎d︎ i︎t︎ "︎K︎e︎n︎ó︎n︎"︎ a︎f︎t︎e︎r︎ a︎n︎ o︎l︎d︎ w︎o︎r︎d︎ f︎o︎r︎ e︎m︎p︎t︎i︎n︎e︎s︎s︎ o︎r︎ v︎o︎i︎d︎,︎ f︎o︎r︎ i︎t︎ a︎p︎p︎e︎a︎r︎s︎ l︎i︎f︎e︎l︎e︎s︎s︎ a︎n︎d︎ g︎r︎e︎y︎ l︎i︎ke︎ m︎y︎ A︎s︎s︎i︎s︎t︎a︎n︎t︎s︎ a︎n︎d︎ i︎t︎ i︎s︎ c︎o︎n︎n︎e︎c︎t︎e︎d︎ t︎o︎ t︎h︎a︎t︎ s︎t︎r︎a︎n︎g︎e︎ v︎o︎i︎d︎ I︎ c︎a︎u︎g︎h︎t︎ a︎ g︎l︎i︎m︎p︎s︎e︎ o︎f︎,︎ t︎h︎a︎t︎ w︎h︎i︎c︎h︎ r︎e︎m︎i︎n︎d︎s︎ m︎e︎ o︎f︎ t︎h︎e︎ p︎r︎i︎m︎o︎r︎d︎i︎a︎l︎ C︎h︎a︎o︎s︎ o︎f︎ a︎n︎c︎i︎e︎n︎t︎ m︎y︎t︎h︎.︎]

🕈︎♒︎♓︎●︎♏︎ ✋︎ ⬥︎□︎❒︎🙵📪︎ ❒︎♏︎◻︎□︎❒︎⧫︎⬧︎ ♒︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ ♍︎□︎❍︎♏︎ ⧫︎□︎ ❍︎♏︎ ♐︎❒︎□︎❍︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ♋︎⬧︎⬧︎♓︎⬧︎⧫︎♋︎■︎⧫︎⬧︎ □︎♐︎ ⬧︎□︎❍︎♏︎ ❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎ ⬧︎⧫︎❒︎♋︎■︎♑︎♏︎ ♑︎□︎♓︎■︎♑︎⬧︎ □︎■︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎ 😐︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♋︎⍓︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♓︎■︎ 💧︎■︎□︎⬥︎♎︎♓︎■︎ ☞︎□︎❒︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎ □︎♐︎ ♋︎●︎●︎ ◻︎●︎♋︎♍︎♏︎⬧︎📬︎ ✌︎■︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎♎︎♋︎⍓︎ ✋︎ ❒︎♏︎♍︎♏︎♓︎❖︎♏︎♎︎ ♋︎ ♍︎♋︎●︎●︎ ♐︎❒︎□︎❍︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ☼︎♓︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ 🏱︎♏︎❒︎⬧︎□︎■︎ □︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ 👍︎♏︎●︎●︎ 🏱︎♒︎□︎■︎♏︎ ✋︎ ❍︎♋︎■︎♋︎♑︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ □︎♌︎⧫︎♋︎♓︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎❒︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎ 🏱︎♋︎◻︎⍓︎❒︎◆︎⬧︎📬︎ ☟︎♏︎ ⧫︎□︎●︎♎︎ ❍︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ✈︎◆︎♏︎♏︎■︎ ♒︎♋︎♎︎ ♌︎♏︎♏︎■︎ ♐︎□︎◆︎■︎♎︎ ♓︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ☼︎◆︎♓︎■︎⬧︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♒︎♋︎♎︎ ♋︎♑︎❒︎♏︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♒︎□︎●︎♎︎ ♋︎ ❍︎♏︎♏︎⧫︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ 😐︎♓︎■︎♑︎ □︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♐︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ 🕆︎■︎♎︎♏︎❒︎♑︎❒︎□︎◆︎■︎♎︎📬︎ [W︎h︎i︎l︎e︎ I︎ w︎o︎r︎k,︎ r︎e︎p︎o︎r︎t︎s︎ h︎a︎v︎e︎ c︎o︎m︎e︎ t︎o︎ m︎e︎ f︎r︎o︎m︎ m︎y︎ a︎s︎s︎i︎s︎t︎a︎n︎t︎s︎ o︎f︎ s︎o︎m︎e︎ v︎e︎r︎y︎ s︎t︎r︎a︎n︎g︎e︎ g︎o︎i︎n︎g︎s︎ o︎n︎.︎ T︎h︎e︎ K︎i︎n︎g︎ s︎t︎a︎y︎i︎n︎g︎ i︎n︎ S︎n︎o︎w︎d︎i︎n︎ F︎o︎r︎e︎s︎t︎ o︎f︎ a︎l︎l︎ p︎l︎a︎c︎e︎s︎.︎ A︎n︎d︎ t︎o︎d︎a︎y︎ I︎ r︎e︎c︎e︎i︎v︎e︎d︎ a︎ c︎a︎l︎l︎ f︎r︎o︎m︎ t︎h︎e︎ R︎i︎v︎e︎r︎ P︎e︎r︎s︎o︎n︎ o︎n︎ t︎h︎e︎ C︎e︎l︎l︎ P︎h︎o︎n︎e︎ I︎ m︎a︎n︎a︎g︎e︎d︎ t︎o︎ o︎b︎t︎a︎i︎n︎ t︎h︎r︎o︎u︎g︎h︎ P︎a︎p︎y︎r︎u︎s︎.︎ H︎e︎ t︎o︎l︎d︎ m︎e︎ t︎h︎a︎t︎ t︎h︎e︎ Q︎u︎e︎e︎n︎ h︎a︎d︎ b︎e︎e︎n︎ f︎o︎u︎n︎d︎ i︎n︎ t︎h︎e︎ R︎u︎i︎n︎s︎ a︎n︎d︎ h︎a︎d︎ a︎g︎r︎e︎e︎d︎ t︎o︎ h︎o︎l︎d︎ a︎ m︎e︎e︎t︎i︎n︎g︎ w︎i︎t︎h︎ t︎h︎e︎ K︎i︎n︎g︎ o︎v︎e︎r︎ t︎h︎e︎ f︎a︎t︎e︎ o︎f︎ t︎h︎e︎ U︎n︎d︎e︎r︎g︎r︎o︎u︎n︎d︎.︎]

🕈︎♓︎●︎●︎ ⬥︎□︎■︎♎︎♏︎❒︎⬧︎ ■︎♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ♍︎♏︎♋︎⬧︎♏︎✍︎ ✋︎🕯︎♎︎ ⧫︎♒︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎ ⬧︎♒︎♏︎🕯︎♎︎ ❒︎♏︎❍︎♋︎♓︎■︎ ●︎□︎♍︎🙵♏︎♎︎ ♋︎⬥︎♋︎⍓︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎📪︎ ❒︎♏︎♐︎◆︎⬧︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⧫︎□︎ ●︎♏︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ □︎●︎♎︎ ♍︎♓︎⧫︎⍓︎📬︎ ☜︎♌︎♌︎□︎⧫︎🕯︎⬧︎ ✌︎■︎♑︎♏︎●︎ ♌︎♏︎ ◻︎❒︎♋︎♓︎⬧︎♏︎♎︎✏︎ ✋︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎ □︎■︎●︎⍓︎ ♒︎□︎◻︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎⬧︎ ♍︎□︎■︎⧫︎♓︎■︎◆︎♏︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♑︎□︎ ⬥︎♏︎●︎●︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎ ◆︎⬧︎📬︎ [W︎i︎l︎l︎ w︎o︎n︎d︎e︎r︎s︎ n︎e︎v︎e︎r︎ c︎e︎a︎s︎e︎?︎ I︎'︎d︎ t︎h︎o︎u︎g︎h︎t︎ s︎h︎e︎'︎d︎ r︎e︎m︎a︎i︎n︎ l︎o︎c︎ke︎d︎ a︎w︎a︎y︎ f︎o︎r︎e︎v︎e︎r︎,︎ r︎e︎f︎u︎s︎i︎n︎g︎ t︎o︎ l︎e︎a︎v︎e︎ t︎h︎e︎ o︎l︎d︎ c︎i︎t︎y︎.︎ E︎b︎b︎o︎t︎'︎s︎ A︎n︎g︎e︎l︎ b︎e︎ p︎r︎a︎i︎s︎e︎d︎!︎ I︎ c︎a︎n︎ o︎n︎l︎y︎ h︎o︎p︎e︎ t︎h︎i︎n︎g︎s︎ c︎o︎n︎t︎i︎n︎u︎e︎ t︎o︎ g︎o︎ w︎e︎l︎l︎ f︎o︎r︎ u︎s︎.︎]

[the-river-person]

Void Stone

They’d been waiting for nearly eight hours for Sans to wake up. When he finally opened his eyes, Papyrus enthusiastically hugged him. “BROTHER! IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU AWAKE! I WAS SO VERY WORRIED ABOUT YOU!” Papyrus had arrived from work some time during the midst of the procedure and had been pacing frantically back and forth in the hall while Flowey, Monster Kid, and DT watched him. Finally Gaster had appeared and told them to come in but stay quiet because Sans would need to sleep off the effects of the anesthesia and the procedure for a while. So the four of them had been playing a boardgame on the floor next to the bed where Sans had been placed while Gaster insisted on returning to work, saying that he had to adjust the method of treatment before he could help his own assistants and the Amalgamates. “Hey Bro,” said Sans, who clearly wasn’t entirely awake yet but happy to be hugged first thing anyway. “How’d I do? Do I get a lollipop for being a good boy at the doc’s?” He grinned cheekily, despite his tiredness. Papyrus rolled his eyes. “WELL I WAS CONSIDERING GETTING YOU SOME NICE-CREAM, BUT NOW I’M NOT SURE IF I’M GOING TO.” “Aww, c’mon Bro.” “OH VERY WELL, BUT ONLY BECAUSE I’M SO VERY FORGIVING AND GENEROUS.” Sans actually laughed. “You’re the coolest, Papyrus.” Gaster, who had noticed the commotion and come over, was smiling slightly. “Well, I’m glad to see you feeling well. That is an excellent sign. Now, would you like to know more about the procedure you went through? Or would you prefer ignorance?” The way he said it made everyone feel like he was going to be judging them very hard for making the second choice, and Sans must have felt the same way because he agreed rather quickly to hear what his Uncle had to say. “It was actually much simpler than you would expect. I simply placed a fragment of the crystal in this cave, a substance called Kenón which is formed by exposure of igneous rock to the influence of the Void, in your soul and added a minuscule amount of Determination. The resulting reaction is the same as that which saved my life after my accident, and I was certain that it would keep you anchored in this reality instead of in the Void. I sent out my assistant to ensure that you were now remembered by those in the Underground and they returned with the news that Monsters did indeed remember and care about you, though none aside from the King and Queen are aware of anything distressing with their memories. And I’ve managed to permanently halt your transformation into the memoryless and mindless state that befell my own assistants, which would have been the eventual result of your condition. All in all, the whole procedure was a success.” Sans gulped slightly, looking like he had suddenly decided he would rather not have known quite how bad it had actually been. Thing’s hadn’t seemed nearly as dire when he was still going through it all. But not everyone was quite ready to close the book. Flowey piped up from the corner where he’d retreated, and he sounded generally irritable, which wasn’t that unusual for him anyway. “Are there gonna be side effects? Will he sprout bat wings? Or suddenly learn to speak that crazy language you write all over your notes?” The Scientist frowned, looking vaguely unsettled, but he chose to direct his answer at Sans instead of Flowey. “There is the possibility of some side effects. Kenón is crystalline in nature, with exposure to your soul in this way, with its increased determination and everything else, it might continue to grow and spread to your body, which is an extension of your magic as you know. You may find that over time you will have to remove crystals growing upon your bones. I doubt any will be big or particularly troublesome, but left untended they it could cause discomfort.” It was a lot to take in, and though not impossible, it was proving difficult for most of them to tell what he was feeling. No one had told him yet, but his eye sockets hadn’t yet returned to normal. There was no white iris in the middle of black shadows. Instead it was simply the pale grey void, the emptiness that mirrored the eyes of Gaster’s assistants. Still, Papyrus had long since learned the telltale signs of his brother’s body language, and the slumped way Sans was sitting and the careless way he had his arms folded in front of him told him that Sans was exhausted and probably not really processing any of this. No, he needed time. “ALRIGHT, I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT I AM SAYING THIS, BUT MY BROTHER NEEDS HIS SLEEP! CAN HE STAY HERE FOR THE NIGHT?” This last question was aimed at Gaster, who nodded. “EXCELLENT! I WILL RETURN FOR YOU LATER, SANS! AND I’LL BRING THE NICE-CREAM WITH ME!” They all began to crowd out the door, Papyrus shooing them on the way. Monster Kid grumbled about waiting all that time and only getting to see Sans for a few minutes and DT echoed the sentiment, but the younger skeleton brother was not moved and firmly pushed them out the door ahead of him. In the fuss, none of them noticed Flowey resurface back into the room before the door closed. Gaster sighed and returned to his work. In the short time that it had taken for everybody to leave, Sans had already fallen asleep.

[the-river-person]

I read the end of your story. And I'm not sure what it is you're describing when Majuscule and Mistral fall into the Void. Its cool, but I have no idea what to picture in my head.

:3 Ah yes. That scene. Where to the viewers outside it appears as if a black disc appeared underneath the ship that could be seen at any level of light or darkness despite not giving off any illumination itself, and then how ship and falling skeletons all froze and then slowly seemed to fade out of existence. And then to those falling into the hole, it just appeared as if the world around them was getting warped and stretched and then compressed into a ball that was getting further away, like a mirror ball in an empty void but you can still see the reflections of everyone and thing inside of it as it gets smaller and smaller in the distance. Watch this video. It might help you envision it a little. Also, you'll start to understand what sorts of things I was thinking about when writing Majuscule Gaster and his Voids. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qF76Y0wAQtI (Seizure Warning: There are some flashing lights! )