While going through the timeline, their forehead slowly crumpled into a concerned frown. Disbelief.
They did not expect their screen reader to utter such eldritch phrases. Not here— not now! It is too soon for the Awakening!
How did a random stranger obtain the occult Braille runes, and how did they fathom they should unleash such ancient power casually in a furry shitpost?
With a heavy sigh, the inevitable is accepted. Soon, there will be only darkness, for everyone, snuggling for eternity into the warm, fuzzy embrace of non-euclidian floof beyond mortal comprehension.





