Hold On Chapter 6, a my hero academia/僕のヒーローアカデミア fanfic

Title: Hold On

Summary: Heavily inspired by the song (Hold On by Chord Overstreet). Katsuki had gone back for his school book. He never thought Izuku would listen to him. He was stronger than that. It was infuriating how unwavering the nerd was in his goal, so why... why was Katsuki holding him, drenched in his childhood friend's blood, begging, praying for him to just...hold on.

Anime: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Izuku/Katsuki

Rating: M for Katsuki (I mean, Language) and other sensitive topics. Warnings will be listed as needed.

TRIGGER WARNING:

-Mentions of Attempted Suicide

-Mentions of Bullying

Chapter Six

"I thought he would have the common sense to change schools."

"Leave the Deku alone, or he'll jump off the roof again."

"Whatever, not like it's our problem. We all know Bakugou's the ringleader responsible for bullying Deku the most."

"Shh! He'll hear you!"

Like he was going to do something? Fuck no. He spent the better part of the last half a month working on his shit. He still got angry too damn easy, and yeah, it helped him with his quirk, but at the cost of something too fucking important to lose again. Well... maybe he hadn't lost Deku... but he'd come pretty damn close to it! His parents had told him that therapy wouldn't be necessary unless he requested it, so long as he talked with at least one of them. He'd been talking with his dad. He talked with his dad about what was on his mind every night, how he was feeling, and his thoughts going forward. He wrote shit down. He wrote a lot of shit down, and he would keep writing shit down until he had himself put back together. The way he was before he got a fucking quirk.

"Kaachan, are you okay?"

No, "yeah."

Izuku nodded, staring at the gossiping trio that had followed them inside the classroom.

No one said anything directly to Izuku. No... they chose instead to whisper about him just within hearing range. He squirmed uncomfortably under their gazes. Shifting as he listened to them judge him.

It was only his first day back, and already the shitfaces were starting drama. Katsuki let off the warning blasts. Nothing that would constitute a threat in his book, but it was a fucking promise as far as he was concerned. As in, anyone fucking messes with Deku, and he promised to let off an explosion so far up their asses that the school would be cleaning shit and tears off the walls for years to come.

Everyone chose silence. Katsuki looked over to Izuku. His friend was smiling. A small, bashful smile, still nervous but feeling safe. Good. They'd make it through the day, then the week, the month... and before they knew what happened, U.A would be there, right in front of them. Everything would be okay now.

One day. One week. Schoolwork and homework caught up. Physical therapy was going well. Izuku was great as far as walking and running were concerned. He didn't like heights anymore, though. He had made the shit poor choice of going up to the roof for days after returning to school. Not to jump! To hide...

Katsuki had spent the better part of lunch looking for him and nearly lost his head when someone told him "the loser went up to the roof again," Clearly, no one cared enough to stop him. However, when Katsuki found him curled in on himself, crying, he realized that Izuku jumping again was the least of his concerns. He was too afraid to even look out at the courtyard, much less leap to certain death.

The rest of lunch that day was spent holding Izuku and making sure he was okay to continue school.

Since then, Izuku steered clear of the roof and anyone who would try to hurt him verbally or physically. It wasn't an easy feat in a school where 99.98 percent believe you're worthless without a quirk and go out of their way to make sure you know.

Shouta buried his head under his pillow, trying to ignore the buzzing of his phone on the side table. 'No, not going in early today. There are plenty of other heroes who can help. Call one of them!'

The buzzing subsided, and he relaxed and went back to sleep.

...

"...shit..." Shouta pulled the pillow from his head, snatched his phone, and held it up to see who had messaged him. His calls were all muted without vibration, and the only texts he received were from his husband and best friend. Both were at work... leaving the only other possible option... "Looks like they're ready."

They weren't. The physical assessment of their skills and abilities had placed a clear fissure between their skill level. It was no surprise, but Izuku was ready to do whatever he had to do to catch up and even surpass Katsuki. Meanwhile, Katsuki felt himself wanting to hold back. This was not normal behavior for the blonde, normally explosive boy who could sometimes be emotionally evasive.

Shouta, who had spent the better part of the past week watching over the two from the shadows, was already aware of their personalities. He knew some of their triggers, probably better than they did, if they could even recognize them for what they were. Pushing the two with harsh physical drills, nothing too extreme, but enough to build up a heavy layer of sweat and make their bodies ache.

"You won't be using your quirks during this training," Shouta said, looking down at the two trying to catch their breath. Izuku lay on his back, the sun beating down on him mercilessly. Katsuki was bent over with his hands on his knees, still standing, but his breathing was labored and his face a glistening mess of sweat. "Not for a few months, at least. When we do start training with Bakugou's quirk, I will be on standby during your sparring. We will discuss that more later when it's relevant." Walking to a bag, he pulled out two water bottles, "here, drink up. Stay hydrated."

The two took the bottles with thanks and finished them off almost as soon as they took them.

"Honestly, you two are still young, and that makes you eager... eager means more likely to make mistakes." Looking at where they'd come to a stop, he stood looking out at the beach. The shore was gorgeous, but the beach was full of litter, junk, and discarded scraps. "What a way to treat the environment." He muttered more to himself before looking down at the kids, "take a break, and we'll get started in ten minutes with your endurance training."

Izuku nodded, looking at the beach that Shouta had stopped them in front of. He turned his eyes to the mountain of trash and frowned. Musutafu had one beach, and it was Dagobah Beach. Not the prettiest sight, considering how poorly it had been treated throughout the years. He stood up and walked past the wooden posts that separated the sidewalk from the beach. "I bet it would be beautiful if it were cleaned up."

"You think so?"

"If the community worked together to clean it, I bet it would be great."

Nodding, Shouta looked down at the sand under his boot, "Is this also your community?"

Katsuki stepped up beside Izuku, who answered Shouta with a nod. Pointing to a not too far-off apartment complex set in the distance.

"Then be a reflection of that community. I will give you your first real lesson about being a Hero. You can't look any further than your reflection when seeking a hero to take responsibility for your own desires and goals. Something like a cleaner beach can be made possible with your own two hands."

The two looked up at him as if he'd lost his mind, but Shouta was dead serious. Their eyes retraced the path to the beach before a look of determination settled inside them. "Sensei?"

"Hm?"

"What will our training schedule be like?" Izuku was already putting together a plan as he thought about how many hours were in a day.

"Do you intend to clean the beach?"

"Yeah. I-it's my community, so you're right. I should take responsibility for it!"

"Haaah!? You're not the only one in the community, loser." Bringing a hand to the back of his neck, Katsuki growled, "I'll help too. You'll never get this shit done if it's just you."

"R-really, Kaachan!?"

"Did I stutter?!"

"Ah! S-Sorry!" Holding his hands up in defense, Izuku smiled brightly at the blonde. He wasn't afraid. He really wasn't. He looked happy.

Shaking his head, Shouta closed his eyes as he thought about how to rework this beach into his plans. "I'll give you two days a week to focus on the beach, anything else you can do on your own time, after school on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Then, the last Sunday of every month will also be focused on the beach. Now, let's make this more interesting. I will give you a time limit."

"T-time limit?"

Shouta peered around at the beach. Theoretically, it would take a team a few months to clean the beach on a schedule. For two kids who still had school and training on top of that, a year at least? He nodded to himself, "six months. You have six months to finish the beach."

"SIX MONTHS?!"

Yes, that should give them a nudge in the right direction. The boys needed a challenge, and this was it. Did he think they could finish the beach in six months? Well, that wasn't the goal. He was sure they could if that was their intention, and if they managed it, all the power to them, but the end goal was muscle building and endurance. He couldn't wait to see what happened. He was going to have to change his clothes, though. There was no way he could continue wearing all black in this heat on the beach. The sun would kill him.

"K-Kaachan...we can do this."

"..." Kastuki frowned for a moment before a grin formed on his lips, "Of course, we can!" As he brought an arm over Izuku's shoulder, two loud explosions accentuated his words.

"Great, now that this has been taken care of, I want the two of you to run. I shouldn't be able to catch you. Ah, I guess we can call this tag. You lose if I tie you up and leave you dangling from a street lamp."

The two weren't sure if he would seriously tie them up and dangle them from a street lamp, buuuuut...neither did they want to find out.

"Well? Run! I'm giving you thirty seconds head start, AND NO QUIRK!" He yelled as the two scattered. He cackled under his breath before pulling out his phone to check his messages. He'd received one earlier from Hizashi but had been busy with the boys. Sending him a quick response, he pocketed the phone and took off in a run in the direction Izuku had shot off into. The two had split up, which was smart, considering it would take Shouta longer to find them both if he had to go one way than the other. However, that wasn't the goal. It wasn't that simple. Things were never that simple.

Mitsuki and Inko were walking to the apartment from the grocery store. Masaru was at Inko's apartment getting food started while the ladies had gone to pick up a few missing ingredients. After all that had happened, the two families thought that maybe getting together once a week for dinner would help repair some of the festering damage between them.

"-it wasn't like I'd told him to build a bridge. I told him to clean his room. You don't need to start a war over something so small!"

Inko laughed beside Mitsuki. "But how did you tell him?"

"The normal way! I said, "Hey, brat! You got eyes? Use them! Don't make a mess you can't clean up!" then he started yelling and stomping around his room while cleaning. I could hear him making small blasts as he got more and more revved up."

They continued talking about their boys, rounding a corner only for Inko to let out an ear-piercing scream. Mitsuki turned in shock and stared up at what the woman was looking at, her face twisting into that of humor once she realized why the woman on her left had screamed. "Hey, boys, what are you up to?"

Izuku blushed from where he was swinging, "j-just hanging around, Auntie."

"Right," she laughed. "What's the story behind this one?"

"We're training!" Katsuki barked out.

Finally coming down from the fear she'd felt moments ago, Inko giggled behind her hand, "Is this what constitutes as training these days?"

"Well, listen," Mitsuki fought back her laughter and schooled her face into a hardened glare, "don't over-exert yourselves, or I'll have to reconsider letting you train with Aizawa-Sensei!" The look on her son's face had her breaking out into another fit of laughs. "Come on, Inko. We don't want to interrupt their training."

"Dinner is at seven, boys!" Inko called over her shoulder before continuing home with Mitsuki beside her.

Neither lady noticed the shadowed man who had been watching and listening to the exchange. He stepped out of the darkness that had hidden him and gave the two a lazy smirk. "Ready for round four?"

"Fucking let us down and find out!"

"That sure sounds familiar. Didn't you say the same thing last time?" He undid his capture weapon, and the two quickly dropped. He caught them both, not letting them get close enough to the ground that they'd hurt themselves. "This is the last time for tonight, and then you can head home for dinner. Now...run!"

He started with Katsuki this time. The boy rolled out of his reach when he sent his capture weapon after him. Ducking behind a tree, he ran in a pattern that was becoming familiar to Shouta. When he dropped down in front of the blonde, his hand shot out and twisted the blonde around into an arm lock. Tying him up with some of his capture tape again, he ran after Izuku next. He was quieter than Katsuki. Something he'd picked up from years of being bullied was hiding quietly. This was a great skill set to have, but the cause for retaining it made Shouta feel physically ill.

He moved with the shadows along the street and found Izuku hiding tucked away beneath a storefront sign. His breathing was gone. He'd become so invested in becoming invisible that Shouta couldn't even hear him breathe anymore. The cast of the boy's shadow was the only reason Shouta found him. Stepping up in front of the sign, he crouched down and looked at the boy. "Your shadow betrays you,"

He looked down, and Shouta could see him mentally beating himself up. "How do you always find us so quickly, though?"

"I'm an underground hero that deals with villains that try to hide from me on a nightly basis. I would be ashamed of myself as a hero if I couldn't find two kids." It was meant as a joke, but he really would have had to reconsider his current job if these two were able to elude him on their first try. "Come on," he held a hand out and helped Izuku from under the sign. "Let's go get Bakugou before he blows a fuse."

"There they are," Masaru motioned the boys down the hall, "go shower. Katsuki, you've got a change of clothes on Izuku's bed."

Growling, Katsuki made his way to the All Might shrine Izuku called a bedroom. Izuku practically dragged himself into the kitchen, pleading for a glass of water as he sat at the table.

"Sweetie, you look terrible!" Tears sprang forward, but Inko kept them at bay. "Are you hurting anywhere? Is the training really that hard?"

Laughing, he waved his mom's worry off, "it was fun, hard... sure; but it was fun. Although, I could have done without being strung up from the street lights."

"So tell me about that," Mitsuki laughed, "what did you do that got you strung up?"

"...we got caught. The exercise was basically tag."

Placing a cup of water on the table, Masaru frowned, "How do kids play tag these days?"

"Uh, the same way it's been played since the dawn of dinosaurs."

A hearty chortle sounded from Katsuki's old man, shaking his head as he realized his question was probably weird. "I mean, the point of tag wasn't simply to run away. It was all about outsmarting the one who's it. You run, sure, but you can outmaneuver a hand, can't you?"

"He uses his capture weapon usually,"

"Same thing. The subtlest movements can keep you from being touched or grabbed. So, maybe, you should rethink your strategy. When you're done with your water, go shower. Katsuki shouldn't be long."

"Y-yes, sir." Izuku thought about what his Uncle said. 'Dodging, something as simple as sidestepping and eluding his weapon. Is that the point of this exercise? If that's it, then Kaachan and I could probably figure something out. We're meeting Aizawa at Dagoba Beach tomorrow after school, oh...school. We need to finish our homework still.'

̵̤͚̩͓̯̉̈́̾̏̉͝

̴̫̼̉͑̓̓̓ ̶̞̹͍̥͖̉ ̶̨̻̼̍̈́ ̸̝̞̓

̷̭̣̞̋ ̸̬͓̗͓̰̣͊̆̇̏͝ ̴̡̮͙̇͆̀̑̓͜ ̷̻̟̜̜͐̀̐͝ ̴̟̲͎̣̏̃ ̵̘̱̽̋ ̵̢̛̖͈̳̺̀͂͒͝ ̶̲̓͂͗ ̵̰̥͐͠ ̴̫̫͍̹͐̋̋͒̕ ̵̠̋͆̈́͛͝ ̴̛͈̮̻̠͖͕͂̃̄͆ͅ ̵̛̪͇͖̪̐̾̄͌̚͜ ̵̼̲̰̗̯̼̩̽̅ ̵̢̬̪͖̝͕̔̔̅̿͆̋͘ ̶̱̦͉͓͓̬̇͂͗ͅ ̶̤͍̤̥͓̌̿͑͗̌͠͝ ̶̝̺͉̮͌͋̈͠ ̵̢̀͝ ̶̩͋̔̍͆͆̐̃T̷̨͈̞͙͓̙̐͂̚a̵̓͜ḳ̸͓̙̑͂e̴͖̫̼̅̇͋ ̷̖̳̮̬̖̍̑̋̿͛̚̚a̷̲̦̠̳͖̰̒̃͑̕͝ ̴̠̭͙͐͜S̸̨̉͝w̸̜͚͈̐̐̈́̇͘̚ä̸̜́̀̏̿̌͝͝n̷̟͕̝̩͚̥̤͆̃ ̴̛̝̰̰̳͐̐̎D̷͖̱̻̹̎̏̎̃̉͠ͅͅi̶̡̠̰̋̋͝͝v̸͚̳́e̶̡̼̗͂̇̂̆͝!̴͎̠̈́̄͘͘͠ ̴̛̮̺̗̍͑̈́͛̄̕͜ͅQ̶̛̮̦̥̌̉̓̿̐̽u̴̬̹͙͙̻̗̓͗̓í̸̱͎̭͉̝́̅ȓ̷̲̿ǩ̴͔̙̝͔̍̑̑ḽ̸̟̰̺͍̉̿̿͑͊̍͜e̶̦͆̾̊͘͝s̷͕͎̱͑̊̍̑͊͛s̶̛͈̖̲̑̐̾͘͠~̸̨͈͎͔̔̔̏͆̀ ̷̭̆̃͐ ̴̗̯̖͔͕͓͛̄̑̀̕ ̶̢̛̦̲̙ ̷̛͇͔̙̝̼́̄͆́̃ ̸̛̼̘͇̽ ̶̛̝̞͙ ̵̨͔͐̋ ̴̳̰́̕͘ ̷̥̫̮͇͖͎̬̃̑͗̾́͑ ̶͖͓̾͛̃̓̀̑ ̸̧̫̱̥͕̩͙̋͛̒̏̌̔̒ ̷͓͚͕̃͌͐͝ͅ ̸̙̔̈́̇̋͊͝ ̷̞̘̜̻̪̙͆̽̚ ̵̠͎̾ ̵̧̜̤̻̺̺̝̆̔̀̕̚͠ ̵̠͚̲̮̯͎̈́̐̅̓͋̎̕ ̵̮̮̻̠́̓͆͊͜ ̶̢̢̺͙͉̃̏̀́́̂ ̵̞͙̫͖̼̫̾̑̑̈͘

Ǘ̸͙̪̮̐͆s̵̨̠̲̺̠̹̘̕͝é̵̙̮̞̈́́́̒̿l̶̨̨̨͈͉͚̬̄e̵̘̜͓̹̅̓̑̑̚s̷̟̦͇̼̏̆͂ş̴̖͈̒̏̓̐̀̏́!̸̛̮̳͖̙̏̀̊͂͜͝!̶̡͎̱̺̞́̾̊̅͘̕͠ ̸͇̀̿̀̋̋̈ ̵͇͉͍̥̟̂̑̉͝ ̸̧̲̰̺̠̓̉̏ ̶̧̛̞̯̙̻̯̈̓̽̀͑̈́ ̴̮̜͙͎̼̝̲͛̍̓̈̇̄ ̶̟̤̠̭̎̐̐̌͑̓ ̶͖̪̣̲͚͓̮͈́̀͋̃̂̿̚ ̴͈̖͉͍̹̹̗͓̍͒͐̆̃̕ ̷̨̹̱̅̂͑̅̔̿̐̈ ̴̧̌́̄͋ ̴̬̹̀̓̓͝ ̴̥̠̣͖̅͐͑ ̶̨̰̹̞͈͛̀̔̂̇͝͠͠ͅ ̸̰͉͉̌́͒ ̴̛̝̠̻̰̭̺́͐́̎͝ ̴̢̧͇͉̗͕̪͋̃͋̅̌͋ ̵̤̬̪̋̈͘ ̷̜̪̜͓͉͈̩́́͋̎̂͗̓̚ ̶̘͐̊̊̇͗̿̚

̶̥̠̟̬͈͚̔͌̓͋ ̷͈̆͌͘ ̸̼͎̼̱͛̈́ ̵̲̗͇̭̼̺̝͈͘ ̶̱̏̽̀̌́̈́ ̶̨͕̗̟̫̮͗ ̸̧̨̤͖͗̓͛̂̆̇͘͜ͅ ̷̦͓̯̥̲̳̙̅̿̿̐͘ ̵̦̟̽ ̴̘̣͕͈́̊́̃ ̵͎̼̖̤͔̈́͒͌̿́̎̽ ̴̨̧̥͉̘̫͓̈̚ ̷̯̗̝̩̤̄̽͑ ̴͖̻̈͝ ̶̦͓̑̽͌͗̏̄͗̚ ̵̛̗̰͇͎̗̯̃̈͆̇͘ ̶̢̼̑̌̊͂ ̶̱̗̱̘͇̇̍̈̒͗͒̽́ ̶̫̠̘̗̯̳͕̋̌̿̆̕͘̚͝ ̴̡̦̯̫̿̾ ̸̢̢̭̺̘̯̭̂̒̒̆́ ̵̫̹͍͕̊̉͐̑̓̃͝ ̸̛̣̞͒̾̋͗̑̈́ ̶͍̋̿̾̾́̑̕ ̸͙̪͋̿̄̒̈́̋̌͝ ̷͚͕̪̹͖͕͙̋̔́̄͛̃̌ ̴̢̙̭͉͓̤͙̤́̉͑̅̚͠͝ ̴͎̼͖͒͐ ̶̢̞̞͎͓̗͔̿̎̉̕̚ͅT̷͚̉̈́͋̆̈́a̷̢̬͐̅̎͛K̴̘͂̋̐̔̄͋̈́͋e̶̢̤̬̪̼̍̐̈́̃ ̶̝̈́͐̃ạ̴̱͚͙͙̈̇̓͐̕ ̴̳̳̓̇͛̽͠s̸̘̜̑͐͝Ẁ̴̺̟̟͗̍å̵̧̯̘͎̹͚ṉ̷̡̯͕̘͗͋̉́ ̸͇̹͕̰̮̭͒͜͝D̷̯̟͖̱̉̽I̷̗̖̯͉͉͉̘͖̾͋̉̚͝V̴̲̄̄́Ȩ̷̼͉̲̺̺͗̿͑̚ ̵̦̭̙̥̮́̎̾̒̎̚o̵̞͒̀̀͋̾̑͘f̶̣̆̌f̶̧̩͍̏—̵̩͖̘̉̋̂̋R̸̨̠̰̝̒͒̍̐̈́͗Ō̸̢̹̲͔̤̙͙̥̐O̶̼͗̾̄̃̇F̸͚̙̔!̶̡͍̰͈̼̭̮͓͛̀́̈͂̾̈́̕

̷̟̞̫̘̟͑̄ ̷̡̝̜̜̹̀ ̶̝̞̠̬̮̔̈́̐̏̚͘͜ͅ ̸̧̭͉̗̤̎́ ̸̡̬͍͍̻͜͠ ̵̭̓ ̵̛͚͔̽́̈́̉̉͋ ̶̗͚̙͓̐̋̽̽ ̸̹̤̗̐̐̌̚ ̷̘̪̹̠͌͒̊̊̎ ̴̲̟̖̣̈́͑͂̏́̐̍ ̶̜̲̹͌̀̓ ̵̛̙͌̉͝ ̶̟̂͑Ḧ̸̨̢͖̪̲̰̥̩́͛͑̉͑̀̚o̴͈̞̊̊̈͂̐p̵̨̮̮͈̫̥̑̆̈́̽͌͋ę̸̛̲̮̻̭̘͒͑̀͆̏̊̽ ̵̢̈́͋͒̇͛͘t̶̛̹͛̃̅̈́̚͠h̷̥̻́́̔̅a̴̛͍̭̓̑̾́̚̕̚t̸̡̝͖̬̹͈͌̒ ̶̛͉̗͒̏̋̌̕y̷̞̌̔̇̈̇̊̈́o̶͕͍̱̬̬̟͐̄̏̉̋̋͒u̴̧͈̖̯̫͙̾̔͑̎͑̍͗͘͜͜'̵͉͋̄r̵͉̫̩͇͑͘e̵̪̭͋—̸̦͇͓̠̔̂̈͑̐ ̷͇̜̟͈̗͍̈̍̽͝R̷̡͎̘͙̹̖̣͘O̸̥̻͕̦͔͑̉̇̑͂̃̀̚Ơ̵̡̙͉̺͍̟̯̖͑̎͝F̶͖̜͉͓̯̦͊!̸̬̯̪̊͛̈́͜ ̴̛̮̼̝̳̺̓ ̵̢̘̭̫̩̂̀͘ ̴̝̙͎͙̱̣́̿̐̑ ̶̖̗̋̅ ̸̘͊̏̀͗̚͠ ̷̺̼̩̱̙̙̙͕̈̍̀̀̂͠ ̷̨̠̟̀ ̵̨̧͖̹͙͓̰̝̑̃̀͋͌͂̎͘ ̷͉͚͕̯͈͒̒̿̒́ ̶̱̱̖͛͆̆̀͑̓͆͜͜ ̷̦̊ ̶̫̜̻̅̿̽͘ͅ ̷̦̤̜̱̲̝͎̉̈́̽̃͑͆͐ ̴̡͕̮́ ̴̡͓̖͓͎͆̾̀̈̉̈̌͘ ̸̧̩̫̯̼͕̼̈ ̶̠̩̟̑̑ ̸̧̺̳̦̱͊͋̊̎̀̚ ̵̤̦̥̣̓̽͒̀

̷̨͉͍̆̀̊͛͋͛̓́͗̽̽̌̾̀̃͘͝ ̸̧̧̛̛̣̥̙̭̣̲͎̲̣͈̠̤͐̀̉̊̾̆̅̽͊̉̐́̊̍̚ͅ ̶̛̥̺͓͍͓͍̳̥̼̪̗͈͖͖̈́͂͂̐̓̃͌͑̀̚̕̚ͅͅ ̶̳͙̹͙̗̼̣̣͖̍̇̈̌̂̂̋̐̓͐̄͗͑͂ ̵̛̛̰̼̫̼̪̝͉̖̣̯̾͒̾̋̾͋̾̔̈́͒̈͜͝ͅ ̶̳̇̽ ̴̪͇͔̺͓̼̻̬͖͖͔̇̈́̓̿̽̆̄ ̴̩̬̪̹̊̾̀̆͝ ̴̜̤̟̤̾̾ ̴̞̝̻͍̈́̀̀ ̷̧͚̜͖̼̺̘͇̪̪͔̼̱̀͜ͅ ̵̡̢̠͍͚͚̗̦̟̣̳̗̜͋̾̀̊́̓̋͛͂̂̊͊̓̕͠͝ ̶̢̟͔̻̼͔̙̪̓͑̃̂̾̅̽͑͑̔̑͐͠͠ ̴̥̬̻͙̌̒͋̀͋̍͊̂̊̄̕̚͝ ̸̢̛̈́͆̒͒̀͛̇̎̇͌̌̅ ̸̧̪̳͚͕͙̜͗̋̍̄ ̵̡̔̐̾̓̈́́̈́͗̂̎͗̚̚͝͝ ̸̳̑̅́̽̌̌̑̊̂͌͘͜ ̴̡̜͓͔̺̞̭̤̅̌͗̀̑̈̽͛̄̈́̚ ̸̗̲̠͇͈̗͎͎̾̈̐̒̍̾̈́̔͘ ̴̡͉̤̼̭̱̝̳̺̪͓̲̰̠̼̩̼́̿̆̕ ̶͉͉̀ ̵͉̟̖̠̆̇̌̔̀̌̀ ̵̢̛͙̘̪̳̟͈͙̈̅̎̅̆͌̿̽̾́̽͝ͅ ̶̢̢͎̪͓̫̭͕̤͈͖͕̫̃͂ͅ ̵̢̲͕͎͇̫͓̰̩̼͉̠͍́̅͊̌̒̈̈́̿͠ ̶̛͔̳̼͎̆̉̑́͆̈́̒͗͋͛͝͝ͅT̴̛̞̫͉̥̲̬̥̤̞̳͉̝̯̦̻̽́͋̂͛̋̀͊́͂̄̂̈͜͜͠͝͝A̶̧̨̡̛̘̮̞̩̱̭͈̼͇͖͉̻̳͛̃̋͂͑͊̽͋͗̄̓̍̿̆͘ͅK̶̨̧̰̗̹̬͆͊́̍͛̑Ę̶̨̼̼͔̙͖̣͓̙̙̱̟͇͎́̀̿̾̋̕ ̷̨̨̯̌̽̓̎̐͐̌͛̈́̽̓̒̿Ȁ̴̡̢̡̛̘̳͎̗̰̜̻̝̦̖̳̘̂͆̆̀́̿̄͂͊̈͌͠ͅ ̵̛̻̯͖̭̩͊͛͋͛̍͘͝S̸̳͕̻̲͔̭̦̘̣̲͓̅͋̚͝ͅẀ̵̢̧̛͕̤͈̺̬̟̝̇͛Ả̶̧̻͙͉͈͕͖͇̯̰̔N̴̨̯͙̪͈͎̖̭̰͈͒ ̵͉̫̻̙͓̦͊̅̒͐͒͗͗͆̚̚͜͝ͅD̸̢̼͓̙̥̣͔̗̣͚̲̣̺͍̺͚͚̈̂͐̇̄̽Į̵̢̬̫̳͖̩͇̺̘͔̠̘̅̏̈͗̎̓̕ͅͅV̴̛̞̲̼͍̯̅̈́̕͘̚̚̕̚͜͝Ȩ̴̢̢̬̯̤̙̭̘̖̝͉̼̙̻̲͑ ̵̲̀͒̀̈́́͛͛̿̔͂̽̓̿O̴̹̐̽̈́͗̿̀̊̌̎̃͂̒͝͝F̸̨̡̧͓̮͖̺̰̬̻̰̝̟̉̋̌̀̅̈́̍͌͑͘F̷̨̟̼̦̙̹̲͓̤̠̹͍̟̦̠̦̀̐͛͛͛̏͂̇̑̕͝͠ ̴̧̨͓̘͙̻̞̋̓̊̐͛͗̉̽̎̉͒͂̏͒̏͝͝Ť̶̡̟̩͕̝̮́̆̈́H̶̛̤͍͎͖̙̽̈́̃̂̇ͅẸ̸̛̱̙̋͋̔͆̓̑̍̑́̕͝ ̶̻͕̳̩͙̙̞͇̝͒̐̓̇̾̀R̷̨̨̝̼͖̜͖̬̯͍̰̝̼͍̻̺̰̎̾́̋̚O̸̡͇̠̜̳͚͆͒͂̋͛̾̒̐͐̃̏͗͐̃̄̅̓Ờ̴̧̱̂̍̓̔͛̆ͅF̶̡͉̣̼̣̙̦̗̰̎͘͜!̴̨͌͒͂ ̵͖́͘ ̵̙̲̱͈̮̽͗͆̄̑̍̿̚ ̴̡̡͍̮͇͒͛̌̊̅͆͑̈̋͋͌̑̉ ̵̛̖͓̹͙̀͛̎̈́̌͗̂͐ ̷̧̡̡̨̨͓̲̦̞̖̼̭͇͙̺̹̻͊̑̅̄̑͑̑͠͠ ̴̢̻̜̝̻̲̜̄̓̃̔͐̽̉̊́̊̂̃̆̚ͅ ̴̢̛̗̜̞̦̥̟̹̖̮̔̌͊͛͋̑́͐͊̀̾̅̈́͋͠ͅ ̵̛̠͔̮͖ ̷̗̿̓̅́͒̿̈͆̌ ̶̧͎̌̅̎̀̄̅̕͜͝ ̵̡̛̘͍̩̻̣̪̠̞̝̈́̇̎̀̇̍̃͐̀̈́̎̐̒ͅ ̷̢̣̤͔̻̰̝͕̦̽̃̀͂̋̋̄̉́̍̔̔̆̒̆ ̴̥͙̝̮̣̀̃̏̿̍͂͆̾͑̀̓͝͝ ̵̧͕̻̣̲͈̫̤̤̘̩̅͛̊͆͒͆̇͆̔͐͑̾͒͠ ̷̧̡͍̾ ̴̧̛̹̫͈̜̩͙͚̯̣͋̓̒̅̇͌͜ ̸̪͍̺͑̒ ̶̧͇̹̲̺̲̬̘͓̟͉̰͎͓͕̼̓͒̐̇̈́́͗̕͝͝ ̸̡̝͉͙̥͕̹̩͊̍̈́̈̅̉͐̕̚

̵̧̝̺̱̘͇̘̯̾̆̾̅̀͑̀͌̐̈́̚ ̸̖͚͖̄̋́̒̿̓̾̓̈́͒͘̚͝ ̵̢̲͓̻̱̣̤͉̘̭͈̳͇̔͒ͅ ̷̡̧̮̣̼͈̯̫̝̼͇͑̆͆̏̐̈́͋̾̔̚͝ ̵̢̡̠̠̟͚͖͈͈̲̘̜͎̫̍͌ ̸̛̛̦͒̑͌̓̆̕͝͝͠ ̵͈̪͓͛̏͑ͅ ̷̡̬͚̝̗̝̫͕̓͌͐̓̾̓̈́͘ ̶̧̧̩̱͈̭̘̝͇͈̼͖̮̦̲͈̎͐̃ͅ ̵̨̢̡̧̖̼̖͖̣̣̖̬̹̥́̓̅͋̒̀̈͋͊̀́͘ͅ ̵͕̳̇̄͋̌̓̆̿͘̚ ̶̨̹͕͚̗͇̦̟͈͚̜̄̉ ̷̥͚̳̩͛̀̎͋̂͝ ̷͕͈̯̞̻̞̥͍̲̙̫͙͖̝̟͗̊̀̈́̒̎̆̌͌̈́͝ ̴̡̡̻̩̳̟̦͒̽̅̄͒̈́̓̓͠ ̷̯̚H̵̡̢̧̧̳̬̲̫̮̞̫̱̬̦͒̂̏̔̌̐̚͠ơ̵̪̺̩̓͋͛p̷̰͌̊̀̊̃̍̂͂̚͠ë̵̛̦̙̦̩͖̰͉̺̝̝͉̰̪͇̘̫͂̎͒͋͘͜ ̵̨͈̤̫̥̙͍̙̖͋̾͂̊̔̅̽̓͆̅͊̋̐̋t̸̢̧̠͎̞͔̗̝̬̩͎̟͚̳͎̋̎͂́̃̈́͋̉͜͝͝h̶̦͙͖͚͐̍̀̌͒̈͒̊͜ą̸̛̬̣̗̲͕̜̗͓͉͔̹̺̜͎̼͛̒̇̏͂̓͆̊̊̂̈́͒͝͝͝t̸̳̼̙̯̗̱̟̦̙͍̮̙̻̫͓͓͒̉̏͛͊͜͠ ̸̩̭͇̭̹̫̻͖̱͎͉͕͐͆̓̔̀̿̏̆͗͘̚̚y̴͚̩̒͆̀̂ͅo̸̧̞͕͔̘̯̭͓̮̦̟̤͇̣͆̎͐̂͂̿̊̇̌̾̋ͅư̵̡̛̪͕̼̥̬̫̈̓͑́̈̀̃̅͋͌̈́͗̕'̸̹͍̤̫̮̦̭̼̌̾̑̑̆̍͆̓̒̈̿̊͠ͅr̸̢̡̭̣̱̩̩̞̍̈̾̾̎͆̇̒ͅe̸͚͍̘͔̯͉͓͎͛͑́͋̚ ̵̧̪̺̘̝̪̬̈́̿̐ͅb̸̞͓̩͓̤̤͇̮̞̄̇̽ͅơ̷̡͚̲̣̭̘̳̹̙̤͇̜̗͚͔̺̮̓̌͆̔͂͐̎̋̈́̏͌͐̿͝͝r̶͈̟̄̈́̅͑̓̈́̒̌̍͌̓̈́͝͝n̴̢̉͒̎̊͊̀̓̄͆͋̎̉̂̓ͅ ̸̡͍̜͓̤̗̤͍͎̞͇́̔̿̌͌̒̎̐̈́͑̀͜ͅẅ̶̢̨̡͇̘͈͇̙̦̗͖̫́̉͐́̄̕̕̕͜ị̵̛̖̿̈̋̾t̸̢̺̼̪̟̺̣̬̳̻͇̉̋̾́͑ͅh̸̫̗̯͚͈̺̣͍̝͚͈̩̻̲̲̮͑͊̐͜ ̷̛̤͈̜͕͇̥͍̩̬̜̦̙̘̫̺̫̠̈̉͛̏̀̉͐̾̓͠͝a̷̧̡̮͓̫̙͍̦̘̝̺̙͈͖͈͑̉̑̀͋̑̓̐̋͒̏̚ͅ ̸̺̱͎̂͊͑͂̍̄̔̋̚͜q̷̛̦̘̬̼̭̟͙̞̀̂͋̽̐̈́́̓̾̀̕̚͜͝͝ù̵̧̢̢͓̯̞̠̠̖̖͎̹̤̮͂͘͜ͅi̶̳̟̤͚̲̲̓̐̌̍͌͒̍͠ͅr̴̟̪̩͇̭̪͓̍͜k̸̡͈̦͔̠̯̟̩̏͒̑̿̇͛͑̈́̑̏̓̿͗͘̕͜ͅͅͅ ̵̡̡̧̯̬̪̲̝̣̤̦̹͋̃͆̊͑̔̈́̀̓́͑̕i̷̫͉̓̓̌͛̈́̒̅́̉̓̅̾͘̚͝ņ̸̫̻͔̇̍͛̓͠ ̶̦̺̖̲͎͉̔̋͐̂͑̐̑̓̀͘y̷̡̮̳͌́͛͒̀̀̓̄̓̋̄͑̓̚̕o̸̡͍̰̱̭̒ư̶̡̛͎͖̜͈̠͑̿͒̀͝͠r̷̩̫̘̭̝̜̪̙̼̫̘̯̈̒̈ͅ ̵̧̣̯̞̣̣͈̭͍̬́͆́̒́͋̃͋̐́̋̾̑̄͠͝n̵̨̬̙̘̭̗̋͑͑́̽̓̑̀͗͆͒͌̂̉́̚͜ē̷̢̫̲̰̝̥̺̪̦̭̱̯̹͚̂̉͋͐̉̋͛́̀͂͊̚͜͠x̶̛̤̞̱̖̤̘̯͈̃̽̔̔͒̑̄̇̐͋̈́t̵̡̥̭̲̖̼̻̼̃̓͛͌͒̅͆̒͑͆̎͘ ̶̛̣͙̲̞̗̫͕̱̬̜̩̰͙͓̣̪̤̈̓̈́̆͒̏͒͗͂̉͝l̴̢̖̜͈̟̰̬̠̯̲̳̤̾i̸̢̨̳̝̋̈́́̈f̵͇̜̎́̌͒̈́͝ę̶͙̹̟͓̥̮̀̎̒̚͝.̸͍͇̮̻̘̭͇̩͇̦̰̬̰͙̻̇̇̎̃͆̓ ̸̧̡̭̭̟̝̩͍̳̜̰̟̉̄͂͐͊̋͐̓̈́̔͒͘͘͜͠ͅͅ ̸̦̤͈͋̐͐̐̆̀͌̍͗͠͝ ̴̨̼̫̩͓͔̪̃͗̉̐̌̾̔̂̈̈́̇̏͘͜͝͝ ̶͖̦͍̲̫̠͖̂̍̂͌́̕͘ ̴̨̳̣͇̖̭̜̘̞̻̘̼͚̳̬̱̑̑͒̌͌̕̚͝ ̸̢̙̙̬̤̖̈͛̂͋̊͝ ̶̛̤̲̻͕͔͖̲̹͎͛̋͊͜ͅ ̶̨̢͉̘̝̠̜͔̣̱͎̞̯̞͑̀̐̀̆̓͌̋͂̊͌͊́͝͝ ̷̡̧̢̩̩̜͚̬̼̤̱͙͔̺̻̯̩̋̀̚͝ ̴̡͙̯̘̪̘̫͇̭͖̳̻̲̖̫̱͊́ ̵̧͎͉̲̹̟̖̞͉̯̞͚̪̔̋̈́͌͝ ̶̢̝͓͇̗̩͖͕͉̞͕͎̥̽̆̏̓̅̈́ ̸̩̖͇̹͈͚͖̜̱͈̩̰̓̈́́̂̃́̇́̓̄͗̅̽̕͝͝ ̴̥͇͓̥̏̏̋̅̿͛͛ ̴̨̡̢̯̝̦̭͈̩͎̥̗͖̖̓̄͘ ̵̙͙̱̣͇̺͉͒̈́͂̍̀̆̊̐͒̀́̓͂͗̉͠͝ ̵̲̂̽͌̄̈́̇̍̉͌̂̇̔͘͠ ̴̧̡̧̼̝̤͓̼̬̼͗͒̄͊̏̌͋̔̆̈́́͂̾͘̕͝ ̴̣̬͉̬̯̲̥̹̲̖̗͖̠̹̮̈́͑̈́͐̊̆̐͐̆̎́͜ͅ

̵̨̛̰͈͎̱̞̠̹͋̄̏́̀̿́͐̃̕͘ ̴̗͖͇̣̣͗̓́̏̈̔͒̊̈͒̀̏͌̚ ̶̡̨̮̝͉̮͉̹͎̌͊͋̔̌̓ ̴̢̢̥̖̤̤̦̘̬̰̖̦̰̩̞̳̲́̐̈̋̃̑̔͝ ̸̨̧̛̪̥͓̰̬̳͓͈͖̠̇̒́̃̊̃̎̐̍̀̓͘ ̷̡͙̥̌̽͛̈̏̎̓̇̃̀̏̆̀͌̋͝ ̵̧̡͔̭̲͚͚͕͎͍̓̾̿̅̅̃͂̈́̓͛͝ ̶̡̺͕͎͚̮̘̣̝̦̱͖̮͚̀̍͋͗̈́̂̽ͅ ̶͎͖͎̭̳̼̄̿͋́̿̕͠ ̸̡̧̛̲͓̣͕̰͍̇̽́̎̌̂̈́̇̂͛͜͠ ̸̨̡͔͖̺̞̟͎̠͂̂́̓͌̒͛̔̐͐̈́̍̃͒̒̎͝ͅ ̵͉̩̖͈̳̠̞̭͖̖̗̿̊̓̈͜͠ ̴̧̛͖̬͉͔̼͈̻̒̂͐̌̂̈́͝ͅ ̴̣͈̤̫͙̹̩͙̲̦̌͂̿̆͘͘͘ ̸̛̤̼͎̺̮̜͒̃͗̒̕͠͝ ̷̦̂͐̾́͗̿͌͂͛͘͘͝͝͝ ̵͈̩͇͔͍͕̘͍͉̯͝ ̵̢̻͔̜̻͔̗͙̫̲̪̰̪͌̀̽̌̀̊͆̿̕͝ͅ ̶̡͚̮̩̤̻͇̮̩͖̟͇̰̊̀͆̀̄́̕͘ ̶̧̜͔̠̺̖̳̥̗̺̯͔̩͈̠̈́̐̐̈̍̋͜ͅ ̴̠̝̯̻̰́̿͒̋ ̵̲̗͐̉͐̏͘͜ ̸̹̪̬͎͍̒̾́̌̈́ͅ ̷̫̬̟̜̱͚̍̆͗͌́͗̾́̇͂͑̂ ̷̡̲̙͖͚͚̘͓͐͋̆̔̑̏͂̅̔͂͂͆͋̊͘͝͠ ̵̗̤̣̲͕̹̘̲̺̠̗̘͓̼̰̲͛̈́̓͌̕͠ͅ ̶̼̙͙̥̫̗̘̬̦̟͚̰̠̮͂̂͗̾̈͋̊͗̐͘ ̶̢̪̠̙̫͚̊́̍̇̀̽̈̾̇̓̊̃͠͠ ̴̨͓̰̘̞̫͉̝͙̺͖̟̆̌͒̎̎̂̐̈́̆̀̾̿͜ ̴̨̯̯̦̎͂͂̽̾͑̑͒̀́̓̄̚̚ ̶̠̱͎̙̹̻̥̲̾̃́ ̷̫̹͑͌̏̿́̎̀͌͛ ̴̝͚̪͇̭̬̻̟̠̫͕̟͕̭͋̿͋ͅ ̸̡̛̗̯̼͈͈̙̞̏́̅̐́́͑͗̒̄̓̀͋̂̚ͅ ̸̘̙̼͖̖̻̹͍̱͕͇̫̜̜̍̉ ̸̬̲͎̒̀͊̔̕̕ ̶̠̻̺̞͚͉̤̗̭̬̹̲̊̈́̍̏ ̷̡̦̥͇̺̩̙͓͍̻͙̳̦͌̿̄̑̈́̓͋̈̾͆̐͌̽̔̔̌͠ͅ ̴̙̪̞̞̻̰̲̮̪̀̅̓͝ ̵̛̫̣̩͔͉̠̄ ̴͖̯̹́̋͐̄ ̷̞̭̝̰̲̼̖̆͆̅̒́̉͑̌̀͌̽̌́͘͘͝ͅ ̴͐͐͂̐̾̌̔̏̽͛̃͘͝ͅ ̶̢̲̻͖̪͈̭͖̀̐̉̋̊̉͋̀̾̚͜ ̸̢̛̭͚̼̟̬͍̗͍̇̌͌͆́̔͐̆̓̐̄̔͝͠ ̵̹̟̪̗̺̠͔̟͉̣̓̇̉͂͊͌̈́̅̇̃͑̈́̓̚̕ ̴̡̛͇̺̣͇̞̉͘ͅ ̶̹̦͓̫̗͂͒̾͋̅͑̈̓͐͆ ̸̖̥͚͎̦̜̲͉̟͚̓ͅ ̷̯̦̘͓͓͈͍̺͎͈̖̤̭̮͍͎͍͆̓̋́̍̑̚̚ ̵̛̘̓̀͂͒͗ ̵͙̗̤̠͙͔̫̩͓̤͍̙͔̤̗̠̃̀̑̈̿̈͐̽̑̈́͗͝͝ ̶̡̝̪͖̣̱̯̦̟͕̖̮̈̐͐͐̋͗̓̈́̈͊̏̓͜ͅͅͅ ̸̨̡̭͙͚̙̣̪̲̥̥͚͖̥̥̣̅̃͗͂̑̔̀̎̈́̂́̊͐̈́̈̕̕ ̶̨̮͎̥̯̜̈̊̂͌͊̎̏͊̿̾̊̈́͒̅͘͠ ̶̗͖̭̫̞̉͒͊͆͑̌̈̕̕ ̵̨̢̲̘͔̩̩̞͉͖̤͖͇̠̈́̾͌̀̈́͋ ̵̫͔͇̩̝̈́͑̉͗͐̍̀̈́͒́͋́͒͊̈͑͝ ̷̡̡̛͚̬̜̍̐̌̓͛́͌̆̏͒̐̕̕͝ ̵̡̢̼̜͙͗̀ ̵̨͍͇̻̲͕̰͇̟̋̂̏̑̎͒́́͋̔̒̓̓͠ ̶̝̬̰̖̂̃̏͒̃͠ ̷̡͎̖̟͓̭̖̔̑̀̈́͗̐̍̈̽̉͌͘̕͝ ̷̨̡̛̛̦̯̱̯͕̰̰̖͎̬̪͗̌͊̇̅͋͆͛ͅ ̴̧̜̝̰͇͎̻͚͈̯̫͚͍̰̭̫̞̐̊͌͑ ̷̢̨̢̛͉͖̖̮̙̣̬̣̦̬̱̿͌̌́͜ ̴͙̩͍̼̓͆̓̇̌̂̆̃̃̋́̄̕̚͠͝ ̵̛̛̬̽̈̀̽̈́̌͛̓̀̇̽͌͝ ̵̧̖͚̹̰̥͚̤̱́̃̔̓͗͝ ̸͔̑̚ ̶̢̞̠͔͔̣̅͛́̒͒̏̍̑̆͋̐͠ͅ ̶̡͉̗̩̩͈̀͋̒̓̆̓͒̉̂͝ ̴̤͓͇̼̤̥͍͇̣͇͊̄̈͐̎͝ ̷̨̝͕̮͗̋ ̵̨̹̭̽̎̈́͂̌͊̅̊̾̆̃͝ ̴̢̢̢̛̤̯̬͔͎̰̬̪͎͙̺̻̖͐̃́̓̔ ̶̢̨̡̧̛̛̭̲̳̫̩͉̱̥̫͉̣̀̈́͑͆͑̇̏͊͆̓̂͒͘͘͝

̵̢̣̺̝͍̱̘͎̘͕̙̠̠̼̋̿̃̈͋͂̿͜ͅͅ ̸͖̥̙͎̯̌̇͒̄͒͛̑͆͠ ̶̱̝̅̎̋́̏́͘͘ ̷̛̼̈́͑̋̏͒͋̑̐̔͝͝ ̶̢̧̻͇̖͑́͜͠ͅ ̴̢̡̼̠͙̳̬͕̲͕͆̃͊̀͊͝͠ͅ ̸̢͓̯̦͖͓̖̥͚̭̳̜̹̉̑̔̃̋͆̈́̇ͅͅ ̸̧̧̹͉͖͓̩̱͕̤̙̖̯̤̞͛̈́̃̊͘͜ ̵̜̼̹͓̯̯̖̗̝̈́̏̇̅̊͗̈̈́̈́̿́ͅ ̷̡̛̛̦̱͎͔̪̟͔̯̗͇̘̲̪̳̹̥̒̈́̅͆ ̶̺̙͍̮͔́̂̀̈́̐̿̐̐͆̑̏̈͑̅͑́͝ ̴̧͖͉̯̱̾ͅ ̵̛̟̊̋ ̷̢͇̈́̔̑̀̾͆̊̅̎̈́͑̓̀͆̂̄ ̸̱͕̣͉̤̣̍͌ ̷̙͎͎̗̬̳̗̱̙͓̦̇̒̒̆͐͠͝ ̴̢̡̧̨̛̛͉̮̮̟̣̯͉̭͈́̊̄̂͗̊͌̑̾̈͠ ̴̞̼͖̜̮̈́̒͋͊̾̕ ̵̢͔̳̠̩̱̖͉̹̳̻̯̘̯̞́̐̏̇̈́̅͛̑͝ ̸̙̭̬͉̖̞̌̏͛̄̅̈́ ̶̧̛̙͉̺̖͔̦̣̟̣͙͈̟̅̄̆̎̏̎͂̿͜͝ͅ ̵̧̢͙̠͓͓̫̟͕͉̜̦̍͊̍̿͊̄̊̓̐͐̊̍͝ͅ ̶̛̛̺̪͎̏͑̍́͛͌̇̀͌̍͛̓͋͘͘ ̷̜̯͚̼̞̺̗̻̗̝̘̎̈̽̈͌̐̑͜ ̴̢̤͋ ̶̮̠̀͑͠ ̴̛̼̜̓̈́̑̆̄̈́͌̍͌̃́͒ ̵̧͉̟̻̑̽̑͛͗͊̑̑̈́̓͌͒̇̏̄̊̕͜ͅͅ ̶̟̣͚͗̄͌̉͒͛̀̌̿̐̒͘͝͝͠ ̷̧̧̯̗̜̭̭̠̙̱͇̟̬̹̼̄͗̿́̾̈́̎́̚ ̶͙̲͇͈͇̯̝͙͚̜̀̂̈̉̅̅͋͂̾͑̌̉͘͜͝ ̵̢̨̧͈̜̳̗̠̟̫̙̱̖̄̉́͛̔̄̈́͝͠͠ ̷̨̛̣̰̘̮͖̱͒̈̌̉̓̏͂̈́̽͒͘͜ ̷̢̛̛̝̪̲͇͙̦̯̫̠̺̾̔̊̀̌͑̾͐̒͐͛̔̽ ̵̡̳͖̞̖̝̭̺̲͎̱̘̝̯̰̓͐̎̒̄͝ͅ ̷̧͚̥̬͈̼̳̦̠̘̯̝̈́͌̈́̍̈́̆̌̀̌̄́̕̕͠ ̶̧̩̥̮̹̫̘̥̩͔̥̥͉͖̞̇̂͂̊̏ͅ ̵̨̜̖͕̰̭̗̖̪̯͍͐̎͐̊̀̉̐̿̏͂̓̒̆̄̂̕͘ ̵̼̻̮̲̖̘̳̟͓̠̎̋̑̔̈́̄͆̾̈́͒͘͝

̶̧͍͈͔̈͗̆̅̈͝ ̸̜̫̗̙̪̲͉̻̻̲̗̠̖̙̍̆́̀͝ ̵̛̛͖̩̦̘̩̣̱͐̌͛̃͆̑̔̊͆̐͐̃͒̕͠ ̵̜͙͖̭̱̱̀ ̷̬̥̥̦̓̈́̚ ̸̬̫̙͚̪͎͔͍̫̙͎̔͛ ̴̨̢̧͈̰̯̮͓͖̗͍̣͚̳̘͕̜̈́̃͐̈ ̶̢̛̤̖̪̖̘͎̖̜͆̾͒͋̉̓̾̽͑ͅ ̶̭̹͇̻̦͍̲̳͚̮̯̯͔̒ ̷̞̜͔̩̬͈͓̳̘͍̫̰͇̜̻̬̽̂̀ͅ ̸̡̛̦͎͕͓̙̭͚͑͐̏̐̉̊͂̀̈́̽̓̋͝͠ ̶̛͓̝̯̪̻̭̻̣̪͔͕́͋̐̇̂͗̈́̀͒͒̓̓̆̕̚̕ ̶̧̧̢̪̣͚̮̫̻͓̱͉̈́̀̽̔̌̃̀̄̍́̉ ̴̤͔͙̟͉͔̤̈͗͠ ̷̡̣̜̲͇́͐̉ ̵̤́̈͋͊̍͆͗̏̓̑̐̅͝ ̸̪̥̙̞̺̠̠̮̘͔̱̤̹͚̥̊ ̷̠̮̳͈̬̬̺͇̞̼͚̪̘̻̦̀̃̏́͑ ̷̡̘̻̦̺͎̹͚̹̖̇͗̓̆͛͂͘͠͝ͅ ̷̢͚̯̜͉̺͈̱̟̲̜̋̎̓̒͂̎̎͘͜