Recent Statuses

5 days ago
Current *looks at PMs* *sees that some people have been waiting a month for replies* *guilt intensifies* I'M STILL HERE, I JUST GOT SUPER UNMOTIVATED, I SWEAR I'M NOT DROPPING ANYONE
10 days ago
Power's out at my apartment. Blizzards are fun. Thankfully I'm at work now so I won't be too bored. At least I have wi-fi here.
14 days ago
Slowly working my way back into the groove of posting. Will take some time, but I'm determined.
21 days ago
Friendly reminder to my partners; I'm still here. Just struggling with motivation right now. Please be patient while I try to find a new brain to replace my current one.
26 days ago
In light of recent life stresses, I've lost a lot of motivation. Replies will be quite slow while I try to get back to normal.



The Writing Housekeeper

Over 18, Male
Time Zone: EST
Hospital Housekeeper
If I had to describe my personality, I'd say I'm a cinnamon roll with a gun. That is all.

Check out my Youtube Channel for gaming, and my SoundCloud! If you like Ambient music, Dubstep, or something in between, I've got a couple of tracks there that may spark your interest.

Music I Enjoy

Because what's the world without music?

My all-time favorite band. I've been listening to them since their first EP! They're progressive metal, or "djent" as it's been called these past few years. My favorite album of theirs would have to be Juggernaut: Omega, though my favorite song is Habitual Line-Stepper from their most recent album. I actually met all of the band members up close and personal when I had VIP access at one of their shows in Boston. They are the most down-to-earth and kind men I've ever met. We talked and took pictures together, and it was a wonderful time. They put on an amazing show!

Jared Dines
Jared Dines is a Youtube comedian and musician who makes videos making fun of the metal genre and all of its quirks. He's an incredible musician and vocalist, and came out with two EPs last year, which I have signed copies of!

One of many European bands I adore, Gojira is another prog metal band (notice a theme here?). Their album L'Enfant Sauvage is my favorite, and their song Gift of Guilt is my favorite song.

Yet another prog metal band that's captivated my interest since the dawn of their existence, Tesseract has seen many vocalists (my personal favorite being Ashe O'Hara), but their music is always incredible. My favorite album would have to be Altered State, though my favorite song is Perfection, which has been done by all three of the different vocalists at different points in time. I actually like Elliot Coleman's version of Perfection the most.

Probably one of the more world-wide known bands on this list, Tool has transcended generations of metal lovers. My dad listen to Tool all the time when I was a kid, and I got hooked on it. My favorite album is 10,000 Days, but there are waaay too many good songs of theirs for me to just pick one favorite.

This band formerly had the current vocalist of Tesseract in their lineup, but they now have Eric Emery, who has the most wonderful slightly-raspy vocals I've ever heard. I'm impatiently awaiting the release of their next album, which is slow-coming. I know it will be worth the wait with the songs they've teased us with!

Another band that my dad introduced me to as a child, Mudvayne is a band very dear to my heart. My favorite album would have to be The End of All Things to Come, but I enjoy all of them.

Yet another band my wonderful dad introduced me to as a kid, Static-X is a nostalgia (wisconsin death) trip for me. My favorite album is probably Shadow Zone, but Wisconsin Death Trip and Cannibal are close behind. I really miss these guys. RIP Wayne Static.

I do art! It's not the best in the world, but if you'd like a character portrait done, I'm willing to make one. Here's my tumblr where you can view the art I've posted there!

If you have any questions about me, feel free to ask! I try to be friendly to everyone.

Most Recent Posts


Junkrat almost laughed, but he was certain that would have gotten him another knot on the skull. It was such a fitting name for the massive, pig-tatted man. Question was, was the tattoo the inspiration for the name, or was it the other way around? He supposed he could ask at a later time if he didn't wind up dead by the end of his dealings with the gargantuan bounty hunter.

Looking over to Roadhog as he asked about the treasure, Junkrat couldn't help but grin. It excited him to talk about his amazing find, his lucky break, his treasure that made him more valuable than anything else in this god-forsaken wasteland. Since he really had no choice but to tell the hog what he wanted to know, otherwise the information would probably be beaten out of him, the ex-Junker started.

"Imagine something so powerful that even suits outside the Outback would envy it. Something that makes me more important than even the Junker Queen herself. What I found is a source of power that she would use to keep herself on her throne permanently. That's what I have, and that's what everyone wants. If they get their hands on it, they could kick the Junker Queen out, or they could sell it to the suits for more money than anyone could imagine. And I can imagine a lot of money, mate."

Turning his head forward, looking at the terrain around them to make sure they were heading the right direction, Junkrat smirked as he finished speaking, hardly able to contain his smugness.

"I found an Omnium fusion core."
Junkrat curiously turned his head as he too heard the noises outside. There were certainly not many animals left in the Outback, so it was unlikely that a dingo or anything of the sort would be rummaging around outside. Watching his captor get up and stand by the door, the battered Junker had no choice but to sit and wait to see if it was a threat. Damn it, he'd really fucked this up. He didn't want to have to share the treasure with anyone, especially not someone who slammed his head into a countertop. He'd have a lump on his balding head for weeks, he was sure. He was lucky to have some hair left despite all the radiation and explosives he'd gone through, but that wasn't enough to protect him from much of anything hitting his head. Hell, none of his clothes were suited for protection. Most of the time he didn't need it, considering lobbing explosives from a distance and setting traps was his expertise. But close combat wasn't his specialty. Maybe he deserved that lump. A reminder that he should set more traps next time he decided to hunker down.

The tattooed brute tossed a tin can towards Junkrat, and in quick response to the noise, two scrappy-looking bounty hunters entered the room, excited in their luck and apparent triumph. Junkrat couldn't help but laugh a little, shaking his head. "Big mistake, mates."

It was almost as soon as the words left his mouth that the gargantuan man who'd somehow yet to be noticed despite his size, sprang into action, instantly mortally wounding one of the poor blokes. While that one collapsed to the floor next to Junkrat, bleeding profusely, the other was promptly slammed into that same counter and held tightly by the throat. Junkrat almost wanted to laugh; hey, that's my countertop, he hit my head on it first!

Listening closely to the brief conversation between the choking man and the pig-bellied hunter, the Junker found no surprise that the Queen was involved. She was tied up in everything in the Outback, especially if it had to do with notable people like Junkrat himself. Okay, maybe he wasn't very notable until he'd found the treasure, but still! He was important enough to send people to their deaths for now. A grim thought, but this whole Outback was worse than a couple of dead bounty hunters.

Hearing a stomach-churning crack come from the neck of the subdued guy, the room was now filled with two dead men and two living ones. Junkrat half expected when he was approached by his captor to be slugged in the face or something, but instead, those massive hands reached for the cuffs and undid them from his wrists. Standing up now, the confused Junker rubbed his sore head as he followed the man out to his motorcycle. It even had a sidecar.

"Well..." he muttered, before his arm was harshly grabbed and a threat was snarled into his face. Sufficiently convinced, Junkrat nodded quickly before he was let go. "Right, well, head north from here and I'll tell you what directions to take, mate."

"What's your name anyways?"
As Junkrat's head was smashed into the counter, his vision went blurry for a few moments, and the pain was enough to send him to the floor. He felt consciousness wavering, but stayed awake. He dared not try to scurry away; even if he could get to his feet and stumble away, he'd just get hooked again. This hog sure as hell didn't care if his bounty came back in good shape. Alive, even if barely, was usually the only condition that mattered. The tattooed bloke's heavy steps left the room for only a moment before lumbering back. Before Junkrat knew it, his arm was yanked to the side and cuffed to a wooden pole. Now sitting upright on the cold floor, the ex-Junker had a moment to shake off that blow to the head.

He held his free hand over his now-swollen scalp, staring at the floor, thinking on what he was going to do now that he was most definitely not getting away. Not easily anyways. Maybe he could convince the big lug to let him go so he could get the treasure and bring it back to him? No, he'd have to be an absolute dumbass for that to work, and this round-bellied brute had more smarts to him than it looked like he would.


Junkrat shoot his head slightly, furrowing his brow in frustration. His head hurt so damn bad, he couldn't think of a plan. He couldn't make a way out of captivity so quickly. There were some very extreme thoughts that came to mind; breaking his own hand to escape the cuffs, or blowing his arm off, or chewing through the wooden pole, or... Nothing practical. Those would be too obvious, and even more painful than the bump on his head. Maybe not the chewing through the wood one, but it wasn't like his teeth were all totally secure in his skull anymore. There weren't exactly dentists in the Outback.

When the pig-tatted man returned to the room with wood scraps and lit a fire to keep them warm, Junkrat looked up to him with a confused look. What, he wasn't just gonna leave him here in the cold until morning? What bounty hunter gave that much of a fuck about his bounty? Then, the big guy asked a question that was to be expected.

"Not here." Junkrat answered. "Ya think I'm dumb enough to keep it on me, mate? I may have a few screws loose, but I know better than to keep something that valuable with me when people are looking for it."
Junkrat had been so engaged in his thinking and scribbling the he hadn't heard any noise from outside until it was far too late. By the time he turned his head to see who had practically thrown the door off its hinges, he was already grabbed and squeezed by a pair of huge hands. He vaguely recognized this gargantuan, tattooed bloke, like he'd seen him before somewhere. Junkrat almost paused to think on where he'd seen the masked man before, but his attention was obviously needed elsewhere. He had to get out of this grasp, otherwise he'd be dragged somewhere and probably turned in as a bounty. Paid more to bring in live bounties, after all.

Living up to the rat part of his name, Junkrat chomped down on the hog-bellied brute's hand, and surprisingly, it actually worked. Granted, the teeth had broken skin and it probably hurt like a bitch, so maybe it wasn't so surprising after all. He expected to be dropped from the action, but not thrown. The scrappy Junker hit the ground hard and had to take a moment before he could make his escape. Shaking off the hurt, Junkrat got to his feet (or foot and peg, rather), and looked upwards towards the hatch in the ceiling. There, that was his way out. He knew it'd come in handy!

Jumping up, the surprisingly tall Junkrat grabbed hold of the edges of the roof, but the son of a bitch who was after him was quicker. And he had a god damn chain with a hook at the end. Like a god damn fish on the end of a line, the hook wrapped around his chest and started digging into his skin as the bounty hunter yanked at the chain, pulling him down from the ledge, and inching the resistant Junker closer and closer to what would be a painful lesson in how not to run away from an enemy.

"Wait!" He shouted, putting on a pained smile as he made a last ditch effort to bargain for his freedom. "Wait, you're after the treasure, aren't ya? That's what everyone wants, right? Listen, I'll split whatever profit I get from this thing, however much it is, I'll split it with ya! How's that sound? You get a cut, I get a cut, and you don't have to take me to Junkertown! Or whoever you're working for!"
There was no place like home, the old saying went. No place like the Outback, full of dangerous critters and plantlife that'd kill you more than help you. Some would call natives crazy, but only some of them were. And even then, the damn Omnics seemed to make the desert landscape more of a hellhole than it already was. Raging heat complimented by emotionless robots constantly attacking, always an onslaught against the humans occupying the land. To top off the madness, the government signed a peace treaty with the bots. A peace treaty! With the omnics that would rather see them dead!

The Australian Liberation Front had an answer to that, an answer of violence and explosions. One which altered the very way of life of those in the Outback. A detonation like no other at the Omnium which produced the bots resulted in a nuclear fallout that swept along the Outback like a blazing fire, irradiating everything in its path. Jamison Fawkes had been a simple man, a resident of the Outback, a smart man who somehow wound up living in the middle of the desert. But after the radiation changed everything, changed him and the way his mind ticked, Jamison was no more.

He'd donned scraps of clothes, fashioned his own explosives out of the wreckage, picked up scrap through the radiated wasteland like the madman he'd become. He and some other fellas had made themselves a living among the scrap, peddling it for what they could, building anew and dismantling anything salvageable they could get their grimy hands on. Called themselves Junkers. His name became simple, easy to say, easy to remember, and exactly what he was. Junkrat, scrounging the wastes like a rat in search of cookie crumbs, had been born from the radiation.

It'd only been a month since he'd found it in the ruins of the old, radiation-plagued Omnium, and already he had bounties on his head from those in charge. After he'd killed off his fellow Junkers because he knew they'd be greedy and want to take it from him, Junkrat traveled until he found a place small and secure, where he could rest for a little while. Hunker down and think of is next move. What would he even do with the damn thing? It was so valuable, should he just keep it like a trophy, or sell it to the highest bidder, or just bury it somewhere like a squirrel with a nut? The possibilities were endless, but damn it, he didn't have time to think with these nearly constant attacks from bounty hunters most likely sent from the Queen. That bitch, always giving him a hard time.

He'd found the town of Marla. Used to be a tiny tourist destination, now just scraps of buildings no one lived in for years. Good place to try to get some plotting done, if nothing else. He'd set up in a ramshackle little building that appeared to have been a petrol station at one point in time, though there was no certainly if it had been in use prior to the Omnium explosion. Not that it mattered anyways.

There was a storage room in the back with an intact door. All it took was some old-fashioned elbow grease and the crafty former-Junker had made a makeshift lock to hold the door shut for now. It wouldn't hold against any kind of grenade or anything of the sort, but it'd take some effort from your average scrappy bounty hunter to get through. By the time they got through it, Junkrat would make an escape through a hatch in the ceiling. Used to be part of an air ventilation system, but whatever had once been there had fallen through and now there was a big square hole in the ceiling. The building itself was pretty short, so if Junkrat stood straight up and reached his hands all the way up, then jumped, he could grab onto the edge and pull himself up. From the roof, he'd jump on down and run off wherever he could.

Sitting on the floor, facing the walk, Junkrat scrawled on the wall with a piece of chalk, trying to plan out his next move. Head out of the Outback, try to find a buyer? No, he hated associating with civvies. Especially suits. Those scheming bastards were always out for themselves. Junkrat laughed at this thought; he wasn't so different from a suit, all things considered. He was out for himself right now! Hah!

"Alright jamie, let's see here, what can we do with this..." He muttered to himself, bringing a hand to his chin in contemplation. He'd run out of chalk eventually, but writing things down always helped sort things out in his head. Stuff tended to get pretty scrambled up there. Staying focused was hard. Writing things down helped him keep focus on what he needed to do, and helped him remember how to make things. He had blueprints for the stuff he had with him; his trusty frag launcher, his concussion mines, his steel bear traps, and his personal favorite... a motorized explosive tire he could control remotely. He carried the tire on his back, and with how heavy it was, he hunched over because of it. But it was damn worth it to see the explosion in the distance, killing off anyone who wanted to steal from the one and only Junkrat.

My name's Dewey. I'm in my twenties, I have a full time job, and I love roleplaying! I've been on the Guild for roughly 3 years, and have seen many partners come and go. The good ones tend to stick around. My rules are simple, as are my wants. Hopefully we can work together to make an enjoyable, lasting RP!


Damn rules, everyone's gotta have them! Thankfully, mine are very few.
1. I only ask for my partners to be decent writers. Collaborate towards plots, and carry the weight of the RP equally.
2. I require a minimum of one fully-structured paragraph as a post, with no limit on maximum! I tend to post anywhere from three to ten paragraphs, depending on situation and the skill of my partner.
3. I personally have no limits on violence, gore, or dark themes such as drugs. My only limits are no scat, vore, and such related things.
4. I don't require any strict consistency in posting, as I have many partners with very busy lives who can only post once a week, or even less! So long as the effort is put in, I don't mind waiting long periods of time. Just let me know if you're dropping the RP, or if you'll be gone for longer than a month! No hard feelings if you become disinterested.
5.And that's all! I try to match the effort that my partner puts into the RP. So, if you put in a lot of effort, you'll get plenty right back!


Now into the juicy bits, and what everyone cares about. Here's the list of fandoms, genres, etc. that I am currently interested in. If I update or change this list, I'll bump the thread. The ones that have *asterisks* around them are ones I am very interested in. Also note that for romantic pairings, I will do any gender couple. MxM, FxF, and MxF I all have experience with. Romance, however, is not a requirement. If you have interest in doing an RP with me, PM me and we'll talk ideas.

I will only play canon characters in specific fandoms. Ask for details in a PM!
Star Wars
Mass Effect

Disease/Plague (Non-Zombie)

If you are interested in an RP, PM me and we will talk plots! I will not reply to this thread!
Updated because I'm desperate for an Overwatch RP
Updated. Added a complete copy of the interest check in a hider, without the converted text I used for flair. Now mobile users and those with browsers that don't support the font can see the interest check.

Yeah, it's a font that can really only be seen on certain browsers, namely Chrome. When I get back home later, I'll include a hider with normal text so those on mobile or unsupported browsers can see it. :) I've already had a few people throw concern my way for it, but I already knew it wouldn't appear to those on mobile and certain browsers.

ℍ𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕠 𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣π•ͺπ• π•Ÿπ•–

𝕀'π•ž 𝔻𝕖𝕨𝕖π•ͺ, 𝕒 π•™π• π•€π•‘π•šπ•₯𝕒𝕝 π•™π• π•¦π•€π•–π•œπ•–π•–π•‘π•–π•£ 𝕨𝕙𝕠 π•π•šπ•§π•–π•€ π•šπ•Ÿ π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•—π•šπ•Ÿπ•– π•π•šπ•₯π•₯𝕝𝕖 𝕀π•₯𝕒π•₯𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕄𝕒𝕀𝕀𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕦𝕀𝕖π•₯π•₯𝕀.
𝕀'π•ž 𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕣 π•₯π•™π•’π•Ÿ πŸ™πŸ , 𝕓𝕦π•₯ π•ͺπ• π•¦π•Ÿπ•˜π•–π•£ π•₯π•™π•’π•Ÿ πŸ›πŸ˜.
𝕀'π•ž 𝕒 π•—π•’π•šπ•£π•π•ͺ π•Ÿπ• π•£π•žπ•’π• π•˜π•¦π•ͺ 𝕨𝕙𝕠 π•π•šπ•œπ•–π•€ π•₯𝕠 π•¨π•£π•šπ•₯𝕖 π•’π•Ÿπ•• 𝕕𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕑 𝕀π•₯π• π•£π•šπ•–π•€ π•¨π•šπ•₯𝕙 𝕠π•₯𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕑𝕖𝕠𝕑𝕝𝕖.
𝕀 𝕒𝕝𝕀𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝π•ͺ, 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝π•ͺ π•π•šπ•œπ•– π•žπ•¦π•€π•šπ•”.


𝕀 π•’π•ž 𝕒 π•€π•šπ•žπ•‘π•π•– π•žπ•’π•Ÿ, 𝕓𝕦π•₯ 𝕨𝕖 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕣𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕀. ℍ𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 π•žπ•šπ•Ÿπ•–. ℙ𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕀𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•₯𝕙𝕖𝕀𝕖.

𝕀 π•’π•€π•œ 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕒𝕝 𝕑𝕒𝕣π•₯π•šπ•”π•šπ•‘π•’π•₯π•šπ• π•Ÿ. 𝕀 π••π• π•Ÿ'π•₯ π•¨π•’π•Ÿπ•₯ π•–π•šπ•₯𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕦𝕀 π•₯𝕠 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕣 π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•¨π•–π•šπ•˜π•™π•₯ 𝕠𝕗 π•₯𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕖 ℝℙ. 𝕀𝕗 π•ͺ𝕠𝕦 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕀'π•ž π•Ÿπ• π•₯ π••π• π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ π•–π•Ÿπ• π•¦π•˜π•™, 𝕀𝕒π•ͺ 𝕀𝕠, 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕀𝕖 𝕀 π•¨π•šπ•π• 𝕕𝕠 π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•€π•’π•žπ•– 𝕗𝕠𝕣 π•ͺ𝕠𝕦. 𝔸𝕀 𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝 π•₯𝕙𝕒π•₯ π•žπ•–π•’π•Ÿπ•€ 𝕀 𝕖𝕩𝕑𝕖𝕔π•₯ 𝕑𝕠𝕀π•₯ π•π•–π•Ÿπ•˜π•₯𝕙 π•₯𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕒π•₯ 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕀π•₯ π•žπ• π••π•–π•£π•’π•₯𝕖𝕝π•ͺ π•”π• π•Ÿπ•€π•šπ•€π•₯π•–π•Ÿπ•₯. 𝟚-𝟝 β„™π•’π•£π•’π•˜π•£π•’π•‘π•™π•€ π•šπ•€ 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕀 π•’π•€π•œ 𝕗𝕠𝕣. π”Έπ•Ÿπ•ͺπ•₯π•™π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ 𝕝𝕖𝕀𝕀 π•¨π•šπ•π• π•π•šπ•œπ•–π•π•ͺ 𝕓𝕖 π•—π•£π• π•¨π•Ÿπ•–π•• π•¦π•‘π• π•Ÿ π•’π•Ÿπ•• 𝕕𝕣𝕠𝕑𝕑𝕖𝕕. π”Έπ•Ÿπ•ͺπ•₯π•™π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ π•žπ• π•£π•– π•¨π•šπ•π• 𝕓𝕖 𝕖𝕔𝕀π•₯𝕒π•₯π•šπ•”π•’π•π•π•ͺ π•£π•–π•”π•–π•šπ•§π•–π••.

𝕀 π••π• π•Ÿ'π•₯ 𝕖𝕩𝕑𝕖𝕔π•₯ 𝕑𝕠𝕀π•₯𝕀 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣π•ͺ 𝕕𝕒π•ͺ. π•€π•Ÿ 𝕗𝕒𝕔π•₯, 𝕀 π•–π•Ÿπ•”π• π•¦π•£π•’π•˜π•– π•₯π•’π•œπ•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ π•₯π•šπ•žπ•– π•₯𝕠 π•₯π•™π•šπ•Ÿπ•œ π•’π•Ÿπ•• π•¨π•£π•šπ•₯𝕖 𝕠𝕦π•₯ π•˜π• π• π•• 𝕑𝕠𝕀π•₯𝕀 𝕣𝕒π•₯𝕙𝕖𝕣 π•₯π•™π•’π•Ÿ π•£π•¦π•€π•™π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ π•ͺ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕀𝕖𝕝𝕗. 𝕀 π••π• π•Ÿ'π•₯ 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖 π•šπ•— π•ͺ𝕠𝕦 π• π•Ÿπ•π•ͺ 𝕑𝕠𝕀π•₯ π• π•Ÿπ•”π•– 𝕒 π•¨π•–π•–π•œ 𝕠𝕣 π•–π•§π•–π•Ÿ 𝕝𝕖𝕀𝕀. 𝕀𝕗 π•šπ•₯'𝕀 𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝-π•¨π•£π•šπ•₯π•₯π•–π•Ÿ π•’π•Ÿπ•• π•žπ• π•§π•–π•€ π•₯π•™π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜π•€ 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕, π•šπ•₯'𝕀 π•—π•šπ•Ÿπ•– 𝕓π•ͺ π•žπ•–. ℕ𝕠π•₯𝕖 π•₯𝕙𝕒π•₯ 𝕀 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒 𝕛𝕠𝕓, 𝕀𝕠 π•žπ•ͺ π•£π•–π•‘π•π•šπ•–π•€ π•¨π•šπ•π• 𝕦𝕀𝕦𝕒𝕝𝕝π•ͺ π•”π• π•žπ•– π• π•Ÿ π•₯𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕒π•ͺ𝕀 π•₯𝕙𝕒π•₯ 𝕀 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕠𝕗𝕗 π•¨π• π•£π•œ.

π”Έπ•Ÿπ•ͺ π•žπ•’π•₯𝕦𝕣𝕖 π•”π• π•Ÿπ•₯π•–π•Ÿπ•₯ π•šπ•€ 𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕. π•Šπ•–π•©, π•π•šπ• π•π•–π•Ÿπ•”π•–, π”»π•£π•¦π•˜π•€, 𝕄𝕦𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣, 𝕖π•₯𝕔., 𝕀𝕠 π•π• π•Ÿπ•˜ 𝕒𝕀 π•šπ•₯ π•šπ•€ π•£π•–π•π•–π•§π•’π•Ÿπ•₯ π•₯𝕠 π•₯𝕙𝕖 𝕀π•₯𝕠𝕣π•ͺ, π•šπ•€ 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕑𝕖𝕣𝕗𝕖𝕔π•₯𝕝π•ͺ π•—π•šπ•Ÿπ•– 𝕓π•ͺ π•žπ•–. 𝕃𝕖π•₯ π•žπ•– π•œπ•Ÿπ• π•¨ π•šπ•— π•ͺ𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 π•’π•Ÿπ•ͺ π•π•šπ•žπ•šπ•₯𝕀 π• π•Ÿ 𝕨𝕙𝕒π•₯ π•ͺ𝕠𝕦'𝕕 π•π•šπ•œπ•– π•₯𝕠 𝕀𝕖𝕖, 𝕀𝕠 π•₯𝕙𝕒π•₯ 𝕀 π•”π•’π•Ÿ 𝕒𝕑𝕑𝕝π•ͺ π•₯π•™π•–π•ž π•₯𝕠 π•žπ•ͺ π•¨π•£π•šπ•₯π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜.

𝕀 𝕕𝕖π•₯𝕖𝕀π•₯ π•—π•π•’π•œπ•–π•£π•€. 𝕀𝕗 π•ͺ𝕠𝕦 π••π• π•Ÿ'π•₯ π•œπ•Ÿπ• π•¨ 𝕨𝕙𝕒π•₯ 𝕒 π•—π•π•’π•œπ•–π•£ π•šπ•€; π•šπ•₯'𝕀 π•€π• π•žπ•–π• π•Ÿπ•– 𝕨𝕙𝕠 π••π•šπ•₯𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕀 π•’π•Ÿ ℝℙ π•¨π•šπ•₯𝕙𝕠𝕦π•₯ π•₯π•–π•π•π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ π•₯𝕙𝕖 𝕑𝕒𝕣π•₯π•Ÿπ•–π•£. 𝕀𝕗 π•ͺ𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖 π•Ÿπ•  π•π• π•Ÿπ•˜π•–π•£ 𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 π•₯𝕠 π•”π• π•Ÿπ•₯π•šπ•Ÿπ•¦π•– π•₯𝕙𝕖 ℝℙ, π•₯𝕖𝕝𝕝 π•žπ•–. 𝕀 π••π• π•Ÿ'π•₯ 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖 π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•”π•šπ•£π•”π•¦π•žπ•€π•₯π•’π•Ÿπ•”π•–π•€, 𝕛𝕦𝕀π•₯ π•”π• π•žπ•žπ•¦π•Ÿπ•šπ•”π•’π•₯𝕖.

𝕀 ℝℙ π•’π•π•žπ• π•€π•₯ π•–π•©π•”π•π•¦π•€π•šπ•§π•–π•π•ͺ π•₯π•™π•£π• π•¦π•˜π•™ ℙ𝕄, 𝕓𝕦π•₯ π•¨π•šπ•π• 𝕦𝕀𝕖 π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•₯𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕀 π•šπ•— π•ͺ𝕠𝕦 π•šπ•Ÿπ•€π•šπ•€π•₯.

𝕀 π•’π•ž π•¨π•šπ•π•π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ π•₯𝕠 ℝℙ 𝕒𝕝𝕝 π•€π•–π•©π•¦π•’π•π•šπ•₯π•šπ•–π•€. ⚒⚀⚣ π”Έπ•Ÿπ•• 𝕀 π•¨π•šπ•π• π•Ÿπ• π•₯ π•₯𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕒π•₯𝕖 𝕙𝕒π•₯𝕖 𝕀𝕑𝕖𝕖𝕔𝕙 π•’π•˜π•’π•šπ•Ÿπ•€π•₯ π•₯π•™π•–π•ž.

π•€π•Ÿ π•˜π•–π•Ÿπ•–π•£π•’π•, 𝕛𝕦𝕀π•₯ π••π• π•Ÿ'π•₯ 𝕓𝕖 𝕒 π••π•šπ•”π•œ π•¦π•Ÿπ•π•–π•€π•€ π•šπ•₯'𝕀 𝕑𝕒𝕣π•₯ 𝕠𝕗 π•₯𝕙𝕖 ℝℙ.

π”Έπ•Ÿπ•• π•₯𝕙𝕠𝕀𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 π•žπ•ͺ 𝕣𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕀 𝕒π•₯ π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•žπ• π•€π•₯ π•“π•’π•€π•šπ•”. 𝕀𝕗 π•ͺ𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 π•’π•Ÿπ•ͺ 𝕒𝕦𝕖𝕀π•₯π•šπ• π•Ÿπ•€ 𝕠𝕣 π•”π• π•Ÿπ•”π•–π•£π•Ÿπ•€, 𝕛𝕦𝕀π•₯ π•’π•€π•œ.


𝔽𝕠𝕣 π•ͺ𝕠𝕦𝕣 π•”π• π•Ÿπ•§π•–π•Ÿπ•šπ•–π•Ÿπ•”π•–, 𝕀'𝕧𝕖 π• π•£π•˜π•’π•Ÿπ•šπ•«π•–π•• π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•π•šπ•€π•₯𝕀 π•šπ•Ÿπ•₯𝕠 π•™π•šπ••π•–π•£π•€, 𝕀𝕠 π•₯𝕙𝕒π•₯ π•ͺ𝕠𝕦 π•”π•’π•Ÿ π•˜π•  π••π•šπ•£π•–π•”π•₯𝕝π•ͺ π•₯𝕠 𝕨𝕙𝕒π•₯ π•ͺ𝕠𝕦'𝕕 π•π•šπ•œπ•– π•₯𝕠 𝕀𝕖𝕖.

𝕀𝕗 π•ͺ𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖 π•šπ•Ÿπ•₯𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕀π•₯𝕖𝕕 π•šπ•Ÿ 𝕒 π•—π•’π•Ÿπ••π• π•ž 𝕠𝕣 π•˜π•–π•Ÿπ•£π•– 𝕠𝕗 ℝℙ, ℙ𝕄 π•žπ•– π•’π•Ÿπ•• 𝕨𝕖 π•¨π•šπ•π• π•₯π•’π•π•œ 𝕑𝕝𝕠π•₯𝕀 π•’π•Ÿπ•• π•šπ••π•–π•’π•€. ℝ𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕝π•ͺ π•¨π•šπ•π• 𝕀 𝕀𝕖𝕖 π•’π•Ÿπ•ͺπ•₯π•™π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ 𝕑𝕠𝕀π•₯𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖.

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