♡Jealousy♡

𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚂𝙴𝙳!! ══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══ 𝙸'𝚖 𝙹𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚢/𝙴𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝙸𝚖 𝚊 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚕! 𝙸 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜! 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 ★

[env10usness]

Welcome to the Doll house!

✮ Its okay to feel jealous of the world your not in ✮

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ 𖤐

ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔬! :

Call me : Envy Or Doll ! !

I’m an internet doll with missing pieces… so I rewrite stories until I remember who I am. ꉂꉂ(ᵔᗜᵔ◍)

They/She/him/It!

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚( ⭑•̀ᴗ•́ )✧‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷

𝔉𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪𝔰 ℑ 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯

☻ ᴅᴀɴɢᴀɴʀᴏɴᴘᴀ (1,2,V3)

☻ ᴏᴜʀ ʟɪғᴇ ɴᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ғᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ

☻ ᴋɪᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ (ɪsʜ)

☻ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs ʜᴏᴜsᴇ ᴀ ʜᴏᴍᴇ (ɪsʜ)

☻ ᴀ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

☻ ʀᴀᴍsʜᴀᴄᴋʟᴇ

☻ ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ ᴄʜᴀᴛ

More coming soon!!!

𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 ℑ 𝔚ℑ𝔏𝔏 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢! ☻

☻ ɴsғᴡ, (sᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs ғᴏʀ ɴsғᴡ sɪɴᴄᴇ ɪ'ᴍ sᴛᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ)

☻ sғᴡ!

☻ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴs

☻ ʜᴜʀᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍᴏʀᴛ / ʜᴜʀᴛ/ɴᴏ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ

☻ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴀᴜs

☻ ᴍᴏʀᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇx ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄs

𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 ℑ 𝔚𝔒𝔑𝔗 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢! ☹︎

☹︎ sᴜᴘᴇʀ ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ᴅᴀʀᴋsʜɪᴘs! (ᴘᴇᴅᴏᴘʜɪʟᴇ, ʀᴀᴘᴇ, ᴀʙᴜsᴇ, ᴇᴛᴄ)

☹︎ ғᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ/ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ

☹︎ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴀʙᴜsᴇ

☹︎ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴅɪsᴏʀᴅᴇʀs

☹︎ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀs ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ʟɪɴᴇs! sᴏʀʀʏ

☹︎ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ғᴇᴛɪsʜ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

✦ ℜ𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱 ℜ𝔘𝔏𝔈𝔰 ✦

   ♡   ʙᴇ sᴘᴇᴄɪғɪᴄ ᴘʟs !!

   ♡  ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅᴇᴄʟɪɴᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ

   ♡ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀ sᴘᴀᴍ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs

   ♡  ʀᴇsᴘᴇᴄᴛ ʙᴏᴜɴᴅᴀʀɪᴇs ᴏʀ ʙʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ <3

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

[env10usness]

HOLY CHARACTERIZATION I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE FOR IZURU SM🤤🤤🤤(I HOPE YOUR HAND HEALS AND PLEASE TAKE AS MUCH TIME TO TAKE A BREAK EVERY NOW AND DONT OVERWORK URSELF PLEASE🖤🖤🖤)

Heh... please ignore my ask if you're beginning to get sick of writing for izuru..🥰🥰 but general headcanons for him would be greatly appreciated.. nsfw or sfw it's okay as long as it comes from u🤤🤤🤤🖤🖤

Or hajime if you don't wanna write for izuru..😳🖤

(DO YOU ACCEPT Q&AS BCZ I HAVE THIS HABIT OF ASKING WRITERS QUESTIONS SO THEY HAVE SOMETHING TO ANSWER FOR FUN🥹🥹)

love

⛓️ anon!🖤(DONT OVERWORK URSELF MLL🥹)

Doll notes : Thankk youuu for the worry!! I'll be fine soon, just some of the cuts were deep so I'll be fine, just slow.. And for the Q&A, Ask away!! Tbh I could care less if you ask 20 questions or none!

✩ 𝖡𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 : 𝖡𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗈𝗆 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝖺𝗎𝗅𝗍: 𝖧𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗏𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾. 𝖶𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗎𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎

✩ 𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗋. 𝖨𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗎𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒: 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖭𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈, 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋

✩ 𝖡𝗅𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗒: 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖨𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗂𝗍. 𝖨𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗅𝗒. 𝖭𝗈𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖨𝗄𝗋 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝖿𝖿.

✩ 𝖲𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉: 𝖧𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖽𝖾𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗒.

✩ 𝖤𝖿𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖨𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖧𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍.

✩ 𝖯𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁: 𝖧𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖧𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽. 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖿𝖿, 𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆.

✩ 𝖭𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍: 𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒. 𝖧𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆. 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗒.

✩ 𝖧𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗑 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗁𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗆𝗌, 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗉, 𝖼𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗈𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅.

✩ 𝖨𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 "𝗋𝖺𝗐 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖺" 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌.

✩ 𝖧𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗌 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗍. 𝖧𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝖽𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗍.

✩ 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉, 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄. 𝖨𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆.

✩ 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗃𝖺𝗐 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. 𝖶𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖲𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍. 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌.

✩ 𝖡𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖴𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖠𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗒𝗌𝗍, 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖫𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗑 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾.

✩ 𝖮𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖫𝗒 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆, 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗋. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖾𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒, 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝗀𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽.

✧༺♡༻✧

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀʀɪʟɪɴɢs <3

[env10usness]

Some of my requests are gonna be delayed sinc I'm gonna TRY. KEYWORD TRY to make a master list!

[env10usness]

Do you have a masterlist or writing queue?/genq

Uhm.. I wanna make a master list! (But I'm just lazy)... And for a writing queue, not really.. I post when I finish my drafts and I post when school isn't killing me with hw...

[env10usness]

Hii I saw you taking requests for Killer Chat fanfics… and I was wondering if you could do hurt/comfort V x Reader fic?^^ 👀👀

(Sorry this is my first time requesting something and I’m so nervous typing this)

Doll notes : OFCCC!! I barely requested anything from my favorite writers cause I'm too scared I feel you!! V x GN Reader.

Warings : Dark content, vigilante violence,emotional instability, manipulation, crime themes, and semi unhealthy relationship dynamics.

𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗓𝗓𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖿𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗋, 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗋𝗁𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗆 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗉𝖺𝗇𝖾. 𝖨𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗎𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗌𝗁, 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋, 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖪𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗍!, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗍’𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗎𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗅. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇’𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝖵𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇.

𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝖿𝗎𝗋𝗒. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗌𝗎𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽, 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐, 𝗋𝗁𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗆𝗂𝖼 𝗍𝗁𝗎𝖽𝗌. 𝖴𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽—𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗉𝖾𝗅 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝗐, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽. 𝖡𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗈𝗎𝗍. 𝖳𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇.

“𝖲𝖺𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀,” 𝖵 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽, 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋. 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗐, 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗏𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖧𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋. “𝖣𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖨’𝗆 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗇 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖳𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾.”

“𝖵𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇, 𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗋,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗎𝗉. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗏𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾. “𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖪𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗍room, 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗀𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇... 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖨 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗌𝗒𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗎𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍. 𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖨’𝖽 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽… 𝗒𝗈𝗎.”

“𝖠 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋?” 𝖵 𝗌𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗌, 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗉, 𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽. 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍. 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗓𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗌. “𝖠 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗌𝗒𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄? 𝖨𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎? 𝖠 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗒?”

“𝖭𝗈!” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗌. “𝖠𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍, 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖣𝖬𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖱𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗋 𝖠𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗉𝖾𝖽. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾.”

“𝖡𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝖾!” 𝖵 𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾. “𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖨 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇. 𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗓𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝖨 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇’𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄!”

𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗇𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄. 𝖧𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀—𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗋, 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗒𝖺𝗅 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖵𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗍 𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽, 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗄𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝗂𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾,” 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝖼𝗍𝖺𝗏𝖾, 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗅𝖾, 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌. “𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍… 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇… 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾.”

“𝖨 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗀𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝗈, 𝖵𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒. “𝖨 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇’𝗍 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗎𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄. 𝖨 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍… 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌.”

𝖵 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾, 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋, 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗐. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝖺𝗐 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽, 𝗎𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾.

𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗂𝖽 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌.

𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄. 𝖨𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗉, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄, 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖾𝗍. 𝖠 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝖺𝗍.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾,” 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗍, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖺𝖽𝗈. “𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝗀𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗍. 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗄. 𝖨 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀… 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗑𝗒… 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇…” 𝖧𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍, 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗒. “𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗍𝗁. 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝖾.”

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒, 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗎𝗉. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖧𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗂𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄, 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾, 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁.

“𝖨’𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨’𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖾,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋, 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. “𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝖵. 𝖨 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝖿𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 . 𝖨’𝗆 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. 𝖨’𝗆 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀.”

𝖵 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗎𝗇𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖵 𝗂𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇.

꒰ᐢ´ඉᯅඉᐢ꒱

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀʀɪʟɪɴɢs <3

Ps : I SUCK AT angst so I'm soo sorry if this is ooc or just sucky

[env10usness]

Should I do a master list..? But only problem i don't wanna doo alll thattt workkkkkk! Eughhhhh

[env10usness]

Dude you are actually like THE best izuru writer ever. Like I'm not even joking you are so pro like wtfreak dude that's insane talent you possess since izuru is lowkeu so hard to write for 😢✌️ but you do it amazingly well and you genuinly capture all his izuru-ness😳😳

if it isn't troubling maybe some more izuru....?👀👀👀 Like maybe a reader who's a drummer for a band...?👀👀👀 Like the ultimate drummer....👀👀👀👀😳😳✌️✌️

CAN I BE ⛓️ ANON 😳✌️🖤

Doll notes. : BHTGHVTV AHHH THINK YOUUU!! I'm also being extra slow since I cut my hand with a kinfe... Yeah... Haha... Fun.. ALSO MY FIRST ANONN!! YESS YOU CANNN!!

GN reader x Izuru No warnings...?

✰ 𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗋. (𝖨𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎) 𝖧𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗂𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖧𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖭𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖱 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗒𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌.

✰ 𝖧𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗆𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗄𝗌. 𝖨𝖿 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝖽-𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖧𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒. 𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝖼 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗆 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀.

✰ 𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖴𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖬𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗍he 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇. (𝖵𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒) 𝖧𝗂𝗌 hands 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇.

✰ 𝗂𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗆 𝗄𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽, 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗊 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗅𝗎𝗀, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖧𝖺𝗇𝖽. 𝖴𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖴𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖤𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖴𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖠𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝖧𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗎𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗊𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝗒𝗅𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗒𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝖧𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇.

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𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗂𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗓𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝖼𝗄. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗆 𝗄𝗂𝗍—𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀—𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗀𝗎𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖺 𝗀𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗅. 𝖧𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒 𝗅𝗎𝗀𝗌, 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗌.

𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗅𝖾, 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗆𝖾𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖾𝖽, 𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾-𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗎𝖻 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝖺 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗅𝗍. 𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽.

“𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎… 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀?” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽, 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗎𝗉 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗋.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒,” 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗆 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗅. “𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝗆𝗎𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾.”

𝖡𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗇. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖴𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖤𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗃𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖴𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖠𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌, 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖻𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗏𝖾.

𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗇𝖾.

“𝖳𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗍.”

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇, 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗒𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽—𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍, 𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇, 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗎𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗋𝖾.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗉, 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗈𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆, 𝗌𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗏𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾. 𝖨𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝖺𝗐𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗄.

“𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎… 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎? 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾?”

𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅, 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾.

“𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗏𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝖼.”

𝖧𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅.

“𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗒. 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋.”

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✰ 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅y 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗍he 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 the 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽. 𝖧𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗏𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒, 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖨𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗑𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗊𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗉𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖧𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍.

✰ 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄, 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗉 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍, 𝗆𝗂𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗁𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗌. 𝖨𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗍. 𝖨𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗌.

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𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄, 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗆, 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗋-𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖭𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎, 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗂𝗍.

𝖠 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽, 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗉 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖳𝖺𝗉, 𝗍𝖺𝗉, 𝗍𝖺𝗉.

𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖻𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗉𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗀𝗇𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒—𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗆 𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽’𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖿𝗍 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗆. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀; 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝗁𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗆𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖴𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗉𝖾, 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖾, 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗍.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍, 𝖺𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗎𝗆.

“𝖨𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗋𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀?” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗓𝖾. 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎’𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇,” 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗐, 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾. “𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗎𝖾. 𝖠𝗇𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 ‘𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗏𝗂𝖺𝗅’ 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅.” (𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌)

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖨𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 ‘test’ 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍.

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✰ 𝖡𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖺𝗀𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗍, 𝖺𝗌 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎'𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗉𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗓𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗊𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇, 𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖨𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝖧𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖧𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 "𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖾."

˃ 𖥦 ˂

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀʀɪʟɪɴɢs <3

[env10usness]

Lowkey back in my OLN&F phase (i never left but still) when I get the money (i won't) I NEED TO MAKE A QIU AND TAMMA ITA BAG!! I LOVE THEM SO MUCHHHH!!!

[env10usness]

𝖰𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗒𝗅𝖺 <𝟥. 𝖭𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌!!

(𝖠𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝖪𝗈𝗄𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗂 (?) 𝟣𝟨-𝟣𝟪) Kokichi x GN reader

1 :

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖴𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖠𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖪𝗈𝗄𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗂 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗎𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗋𝗁𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗌.

𝖪𝗈𝗄𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋. 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗋 𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗅𝗒. 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝗈𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾.

“𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇,” 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗉𝖾𝖽, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖾 could 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗉𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌, “𝗐𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝖪𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗈’𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗃𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗒𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌! 𝖧𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 ‘𝗀𝖺𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗋’ 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍. 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾, (𝖸/𝖭)! 𝖣.𝖨.𝖢.𝖤. 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽!”

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾, 𝖿𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋. 𝖣𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗒, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅-𝗄𝖾𝗉𝗍—𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗄, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗉𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗒, 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖺? 𝖠𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅, 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌.

“𝖠𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀? 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽-𝖽𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖿𝖿!” 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍. 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗉, 𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌. “𝖨’𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝗎𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾 𝖫𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝖤𝗏𝗂𝗅... 𝖨 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈... 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋-𝗌𝗍𝗒𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾...”

“𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝖪𝗈𝗄𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗂,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗅𝗒.

“𝖠 𝗅𝗂𝖾! 𝖠 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇!” 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽, 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖨𝗇 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍, 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽—𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖾 (?), 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗌.

𝖠𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝗂𝗀𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇. “𝖠𝗇𝖽... 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖦𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖾... 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗍... 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾... 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾... 𝖸𝖾𝖺𝗁!" 𝖧𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽.

𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗉, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 “𝖲𝗎𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾 𝖫𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋” 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽—𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖺 𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗅 𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝖾, 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗒𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄. 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝖿𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅, 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗎𝗉, 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 “𝖿𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗋𝖽”—𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍.

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𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗄𝗒 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝖽𝗎𝗌𝗄𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗀𝗈. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖪𝗈𝗄𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗂 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽. 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅, 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗀𝗀𝗒 𝗆𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇.

𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽, 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽—𝗏𝗎𝗅𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 “𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇” 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾.

“𝖭𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂~ 𝖣𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉, (𝖸/𝖭)? 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗋!” 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽, 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. “𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗌. 𝖳𝗈𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌!”

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾, 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾. “𝖨𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗈? 𝖶𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖺 𝗀𝗂𝖿𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎.”

𝖪𝗈𝗄𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗂 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒, 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝗉𝗂𝗀𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗓𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋. 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇—𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝗎𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾 𝖫𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝖤𝗏𝗂𝗅, 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗋’s 𝖽𝗈𝗅𝗅.

“𝖶𝗈𝗐,” 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋. “(𝖸/𝖭), 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌... 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗏𝗂𝗅𝖾, 𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾! 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌!” 𝖧𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝖿𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾. “𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗍! 𝖨’𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗃𝗈𝗂𝗇 𝖣.𝖨.𝖢.𝖤!"

𝖧𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍, 𝗀𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗇 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋. 𝖡𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖽𝖺𝗌𝗁 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗈𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗍, 𝖺 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗉.

“𝖡𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒,” 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎, “𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝖾. 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍... 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆. 𝖣𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗌!”

𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽, 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐.

2 :

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗂𝖾𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖻𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖪𝗈𝗄𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗏𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗓𝖾𝗇 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗃𝗎𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗋𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖿.

“𝖲𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀, (𝖸/𝖭)! 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾—𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗒!” 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗉𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗈. “𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝗎𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾 𝖫𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝗎𝗅𝖾 𝖾𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗐𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽. 𝖲𝗈... 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖿𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌!”

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗇𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗉𝖾𝗋; 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝗎𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗒’𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌.

“𝖮𝗄𝖺𝗒, 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒. 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗇, 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽, 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾.

“𝖭𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝗌!” 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗅𝖾𝖽. “𝖧𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝖮𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗒𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍!”

𝖠 𝖼𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗉, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍, 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉.

“𝖴𝗀𝗁, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾. 𝖨𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗇𝖾?”

𝖪𝗈𝗄𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌. “𝖶𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀! 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 ‘𝖦𝗋𝖺𝗉𝖾 𝖦𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖣𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍’! 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝟫𝟢% 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗒𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌! 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗎𝗇𝖾, (𝖸/𝖭)! 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖺!”

𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖺 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖻𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗏𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗒 (𝖺 𝗌𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾!), 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗎𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝗒𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗎𝗄𝖾𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗍𝖺𝗉 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝖤𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗉𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗎𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝖼𝗅𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒 𝖼𝗎𝗉𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗍𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗉𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗋, 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗆.

“𝖠𝗅𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍,” 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝗄𝗒, 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗇𝖾. “𝖫𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖴𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺. 𝖨𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋.”

“𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾, 𝖪𝗈𝗄𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗂,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗂𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗋 𝗋𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗉. 𝖨𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖾𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝗌𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗉𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗒.

“𝖦𝖾𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒...” 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗉. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗌𝗁 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌, 𝗇𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋𝗒. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍, 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗉𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗉𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽. 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖿𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾.

𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇, 𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗇, 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗎𝗆.

“𝖶𝖾𝗅𝗅?” 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗆𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁. “𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍, 𝖣𝗎𝗆𝗆𝗒? 𝖶𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖴𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺? 𝖮𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝖽𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗉 𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖺?”

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗒𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖿 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖪𝗈𝗄𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽, 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗉. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗂𝖾𝖿, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌... 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄.

“𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄...” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌, “𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾.”

“𝖭𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂! 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍!” 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒. “𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖻𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅! 𝖨𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍, (𝖸/𝖭)! 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗎𝗅𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗎𝗒 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾!”

𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗎𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆. “𝖠𝗅𝗌𝗈, 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗌! 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄! 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐! 𝖬𝖺𝗄𝗂 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍!!”

𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗌, 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗋 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗒𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗆.

♡(◍ ´꒳` 人 ´꒳` ◍)♡

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀʀɪʟɪɴɢs <3

Doll notes : idk why I write longer ones at midnight..?

[env10usness]

im back with another request... may i have some headcanons of how Izuru would handle a reader with chronic pain (male or gender neutral reader)? think stuff like chronic headaches, random aching in the arms and legs, back pain and stuff like that..

ps I AM SO OBSESSED WITH THE LAST THING YOU MADE FOR ME THANK YOU SO MUCH you are like one of the only writers were i like how they write Izuru its so in character im just???? genuinely thank you for writing

𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗑 𝖦𝖭 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 !! 𝖧𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖲 !! Not Proofread!

𝖭𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌?

(𝖲𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖲𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 ) Doll Notes : 𝖠𝖧𝖧𝖧 𝖮𝖬𝖦𝖦𝖦𝖦 𝖳𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖪 𝖸𝖮𝖴𝖴 𝖲𝖮𝖬𝖴𝖢𝖧𝖧

☯︎ 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗋𝗈-𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗋𝖾-𝗎𝗉. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾; 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖻𝗋𝖺𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗎𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝗂𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖺 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗒𝗓𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾.

☯︎ 𝖧𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 "𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀" 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾. 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖼 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇. H𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

☯︎ I𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍. 𝗈𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅, 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽.

☯︎ H𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝖿𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎. If 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾c𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗆'𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍.

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𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁, 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗿 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽... 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍.

𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖼𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅. 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖼𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍.

"𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗉. 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗋𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗿 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁.

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝖾𝖽, 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾, 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝖽 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 "𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾"—𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝟦𝟧-𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾, 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗌𝗈.

𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝖺𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗍. 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗓𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽.

"𝗂𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎... 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖿?" 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽, 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌.

𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗆𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗒𝗌𝗂𝗌. "𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗄𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗃𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗒 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗌."

𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒. 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗉 𝗉𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋.

"𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎—"

"𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍," 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗅𝗒. "𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌."

𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝗒𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝖺 "𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇." 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗁𝖾'𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽. 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅

"𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉," 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖾. "𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗈𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝗊 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒. 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍."

𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝗍 𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

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☯︎ While 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗌𝗒𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗒, 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗌𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 "𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾" 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆. He 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗂𝗑 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗎𝖾, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 "𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀" 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝖾. (𝖳𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒𝗒𝗒)

☯︎ 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋; 𝖧𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗐𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖾𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗒.

☯︎ 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗉, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗇𝖾. 𝖨𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾; 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗇𝗂𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗏𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗎𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒. 𝖨𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌. 

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The 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗃𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽. Y𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗐, 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗅𝖻𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗉, 𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗒.

"𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌," 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗋𝗒 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆.

𝗂𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋. "𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗏𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌... 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈."

"𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗌, 𝗂𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎," 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁. "𝗂'𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇."

"𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗑𝗒𝗀𝖾𝗇," 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽, 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄. "𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗂 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿."

𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗍, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗉𝗍. 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍, 𝗅𝗎𝗑𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗋𝗎𝖻; 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅. 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆—𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗒 𝖺 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖻, 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖿.

"𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇," 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗋. 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾, 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. "𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗌𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗂c 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾. 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇?" despite his annoying tease his voice still gentle and something not so carless.

𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌, 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅. 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒.

"𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗍𝗂𝖼," 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅. "𝗌𝗁𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁. 𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗂 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖺."

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁. "𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝗃𝖾𝗋𝗄, 𝗂𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎."

"𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝖾𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀," 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝖺 𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗌𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾. "𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌."

𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗒𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽. 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗒, 𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒.

•*¨*•.¸¸☆*

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀʀɪʟɪɴɢs <3

[env10usness]

𝖨 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖠𝖧𝖧𝖧𝖧! 𝖠𝖫𝖲𝖮 𝖨 𝖶𝖠𝖲𝖭'𝖳 𝖨𝖦𝖭𝖮𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖨 𝖯𝖱𝖮𝖬𝖨𝖲𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖰𝖴𝖤𝖭𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖸 𝖧𝖠𝖣 𝖨𝖳 𝖲𝖤𝖳 𝖥𝖮𝖱 𝖭𝖤𝖷𝖳 𝖸𝖤𝖠𝖱 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖨 𝖭𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖱 𝖱𝖤𝖬𝖤𝖬𝖡𝖤𝖱 𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖨𝖳 𝖨'𝖬 𝖲𝖮𝖱𝖱𝖸𝖸𝖸!!! 𝖠𝖧𝖧!!

𝖪𝖾𝖾𝖻𝗈 𝗑 𝖥em 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋! 𝖭𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌?

★ 𝖫𝗈𝗀𝗂𝖼 𝗏𝗌. 𝖫𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍: 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗄, 𝖪𝖾𝖾𝖻𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗆 (𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗎𝗋𝖾). 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 "𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾" 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗌.

★ 𝖠 𝖭𝖾𝗐 𝖥𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇: 𝖧𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗉𝗌 𝖺 "𝖲𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖣𝖾𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇" 𝗌𝗎𝖻-𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖨𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋 𝖺 "𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗁𝗎𝗀" 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗎𝗉.

★ 𝖡𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖱𝖾𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖧𝖾’𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 (𝖽𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗈𝗉𝗁𝗈𝖻𝗍𝖼 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝖻𝗈) 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. (𝖳𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀... 𝖧𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗁𝖺... 𝖧𝖺...)

★ 𝖦𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖤𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍: 𝖡𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖴𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖮𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗈𝗋. 𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗄𝖺, 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 (𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋) 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾.

★ 𝖫𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖫𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁: 𝖧𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌. 𝖨𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿-𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖾, 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖿𝗎𝗅. 𝖧𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄, "𝖨 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝗈𝗄𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗿𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖽𝗎𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋!"

★ 𝖢𝗎𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝖠𝖽𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌: 𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗐𝗄𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 "𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽" 𝗈𝗋 "𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽" 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖧𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗋𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝖳𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗋. 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗅, 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀.

★ 𝖲𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 : 𝖨𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝘃𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗅𝗅, 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋-𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗒—𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 "𝖶𝖾𝖻𝖬𝖣" 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿.

★ 𝖲𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖧𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗂𝖾𝗌: 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝗎𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋—𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 "𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇" 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖧𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 "𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾," 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗆 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌.

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★ 𝖤𝖼𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖥𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖥𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖾: 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖪𝖾𝖾𝖻𝗈 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾velop 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿-𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖠𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝘃𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌.

★ 𝖭𝗈𝗌𝗒 𝖢𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗒: 𝖧𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖪𝖾𝖾𝖻𝗈’𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖧𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 "𝖡𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝖪𝖾𝖾𝖻𝗈" (𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗁𝗎𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾)

★ 𝖯𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖲𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄: 𝖨𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝘃𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗎𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝖬𝗂𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆. 𝖲𝗁𝖾'𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾, "𝖧𝖾𝗒! 𝖮𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖨 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝗈𝗅𝗍-𝖻𝗎𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌! 𝖫𝖾𝖺𝘃𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾!"

★ 𝖨𝗇𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖴𝗉𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌: 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 "𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗎𝗉𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌". 𝖬𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗑𝗎𝖺𝗅, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖪𝖾𝖾𝖻𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝖾𝗐𝖽.

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀʀɪʟɪɴɢs <3

[env10usness]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔓𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔰 𝔈𝔵𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢

𝖬𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂 𝗑 𝖦𝖭 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋. ! 𝖥𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖥𝗂𝖼 !

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(Semi short Srry!) Not Proofread!

Doll Notes : I 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 <3

ding!

Ding!

DIng!

DINg!

DING!

DINGGGGG!!!

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖬𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂'𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖺. 𝖡𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽, 𝖽𝗂𝗆𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖼 "𝗅𝗎𝗑𝗎𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍" 𝖽𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖨𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗍.

"𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒, 𝖨 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍!" 𝖬𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽.

"𝖠 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖺𝗀𝖾!! 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍"

"𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗑, 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎?" 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖫𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝖫𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖺.

"𝖨'𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗌 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐," 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝗒, 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗑 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒.

"𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾-𝖫𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗑 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝗌𝗒𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗆." 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋.

"𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝗎𝗉 𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇," 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖲𝖺𝗒. "𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖨 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗆𝖻 𝗂𝗍."

"𝖭𝗈! 𝖬𝗒 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋!" 𝖬𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂 𝖲𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋.

"𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺l... 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗃𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍? 𝖡𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖨 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍. 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 the "Killer Looks" 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆."

(𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗉 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝖺 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽.)

"𝖨'𝗆 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖬𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽. 𝖨'𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎-𝖺𝗁! 𝖲𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍? 𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗇𝗎𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗂𝖼 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍? 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎!"

𝖬𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂 𝗉𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗌, 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝗒𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 "𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗅" 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋.

"𝖸𝖾𝖺𝗁. 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗇𝗎𝗍𝗌. 𝖯𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗎𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾. 𝖠𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒... 𝖬𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗆𝖾 𝖨'𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇."

"𝖶𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼" 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾, "𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖨'𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖺𝗀𝖾." 𝖬𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂 𝖲𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒.

"𝖯𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾! 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗀𝗈𝖽. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾, 𝖨 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖳𝗁𝖾 '𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾𝗍𝗒 𝖢𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄.' 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾."

𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀. "𝖨'𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗀𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄𝖾𝗋𝗌."

"𝖨'𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗐 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗉 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗑 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍! 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗅, 𝖸/𝖭!"

:♡.•♬✧⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾*+:•*∴

𝔄 𝔚𝔢𝔞𝔨 𝔏𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯

𝖠 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗎𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗅. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗑 𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽: 𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗎𝗆-𝗌𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝖺𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗇𝖾𝗈𝗇 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝗉𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗁𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒, 𝗉𝗂𝗑𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗃𝖾𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽. 𝖮𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗉, 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗄, 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄𝖾𝗋, 𝖬𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗐𝗇 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗒𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 "𝖣𝖮 𝖭𝖮𝖳 𝖮𝖯𝖤𝖭 𝖴𝖭𝖳𝖨𝖫 𝖶𝖤 𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖮𝖭 𝖢𝖠𝖫𝖫" 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗅𝗍𝗌.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗎𝗅 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗓𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗏𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽. 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝖬𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗍'𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋.

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗉𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒'𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗏𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇. 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖳𝗈𝗄𝗒𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗓𝗒, 𝖽𝗂𝗆𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖫𝖤𝖣 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗌.

"𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾!" 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝖲𝗅𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝟦𝟪 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌, 𝖿𝗎𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. "𝖣𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖲𝖾𝖾 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗑?"

𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇, 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗃𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗒, 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇.

"𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒, 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒, 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗉𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗌," 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗑, 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖲𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖫𝖺𝗉. "We’re doing a synchronized unboxing. 𝖮𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖢𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍, 𝖨’𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆-𝖨 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇, 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖢𝖺𝗅𝗅!"

𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗆𝖺𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖳𝗁𝖾 "𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆" 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽?

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝖺𝗉𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖬𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂’𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗎𝗆𝖾—𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗐𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗁 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗋𝗒—𝗐𝖺𝗿𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗑.

"𝖢𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅! 𝖣𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗇!" 𝖬𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂 𝗒𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒’𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗋𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗋.

𝖠𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗉. 𝖬𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀; 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗐𝗇, 𝖱𝖯𝖦-𝗌𝗍𝗒𝗅𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗉. “𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝖴𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖲𝗇𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀,” 𝗂𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝖻𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖳𝗂𝗇𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗏𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗅𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗋.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 "Killer Looks" 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍. 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒, 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍. 𝖠𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖮𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗏𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅, 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗐𝗇 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗉𝗂𝗑𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗁.

"𝖯𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇! 𝖯𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐!" 𝖬𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗉𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝗇𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾. "𝖮𝗄𝖺𝗒... 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒, 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗁. 𝖨𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗆𝖾. 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗍. 𝖨’𝗆 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝖺𝗆 𝖨?" 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒.

𝖡𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖺𝗅𝖾𝖽:

♡ 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖲𝗇𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌: 𝖠 𝖻𝖺𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖺 𝖪𝗂𝗍𝖪𝖺𝗍𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗒 𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖱𝖺𝗆𝗎𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾: “𝖣𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝖨 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾.”

♡ 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖢𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆 𝖦𝖾𝖺𝗋: 𝖠𝗇 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖬𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂’𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗍.

♡ 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝖶𝖾𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗇: 𝖠𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗆, 𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝖾𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖼𝖺𝗉 𝗆𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂'𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌.

"𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖼𝖺𝗉 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗈𝗇𝖾-𝗈𝖿-𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝖸𝖭," 𝖬𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗂 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾. "𝖲𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖿𝗎𝗅, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 '𝖤𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖾' 𝗄𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖾’𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅."

𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍. "𝖭𝗈𝗐, 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖪𝗂𝗍𝖪𝖺𝗍𝗌, 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗆 𝖨 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝗒 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿"

ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀʀɪʟɪɴɢs <3

(A little note : I'm really sick rn so I can't be on my phone alot but I will get to you guys soon! I also love misaki and I can't find anything about them!!)

[env10usness]

ǫᴜɪᴄᴋ sᴏɴᴀ ʀᴇᴠᴀʟ!! ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴅᴏʟʟʏ ʜᴀs ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ!

ɪ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴ ᴘɪᴄʀᴇᴡ sɪɴᴄᴇ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴡ!! ɪ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ɢʟ2!!

[env10usness]

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽, 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽, 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖫 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗋, 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗁𝗍𝗍𝗍?

𝔇𝔬𝔏𝔏 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 : ǫᴜɪᴄᴋ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ɪ'ᴍ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ!! ɪ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇ ɪ'ʟʟ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ's ᴀsᴋᴋss!! ɪ ᴀʟsᴏ sᴜᴄᴋᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ɴsғᴡ sᴏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴇs!

You should knock anymore. He wouldn't hear it over the sound of his own racing thoughts anyway.

The door clicks shut, a small tsk pops from it. He doesn't flinch, doesn't turn. The tension in his shoulders actually tightens. How much stress does he give himself?

You slide one palm flat against the leather headrest and lean down until your lips brush the shell of his ear.

"Still pretending you're going to finish this tonight? Your eyes are bloodshot, baby"

"I am finishing it," he snaps, his voice raspy but maintaining that softness he trys to hold for you.

"Go to bed... I.. Eugh.." His hand finding itself in his hair tugging it rather harshly.

"I'll help you." You smile against his neck.

Your free hand finds his shirt and unbuttons it loose. He lets out a shaky huff but doesn't stop you. his muffled whispers continued as your hands reach to his skin. Your fingers are at his collar dragging your hand inside the opened shirt and your thumb circles one nipple with lazy, maddening patience.

A single, shaky exhale finally betrays the wall he’s built.

"There it is, my good boy" you murmur, pleased.

"You're insufferable," he sighed. His eyes drating towards your touch and the paperwork.

"And you're hard." Your palm settles over the obvious bulge in his tailored trousers, giving it one firm, slow squeeze that makes his fingers stutter over the keys. "So maybe we're both struggling with focus."

He hisses through his teeth, hips twitching upward despite his best efforts to remain concentrated.

you don't tease for long (despite your urge to) you know he needs the release more. When you tug his Trousers and briefs far enough down his Thigh, he springs free, already flushed dark and leaking at the tip.

His knuckles go white as he grips the armrests, slight whimpers coming out due to the lack of clothing.

"Keep working," you command gently.

He trys, but his eyes fluttering close once in a while, hips bucking for friction, his hands shaking slightly for something he doesn't even know for. 

You pull his chair back slightly, before sinking to your knees.

The moment your tongue touches him, he chokes on a curse, quiet and strangled, nothing like the workaholic a few minutes earlier.

"You're... Hm..," a low, frustrated rumbles in his throat refused to come out fully. You hum in agreement and swallow him down in one smooth glide.

His head drops forward, forehead thumping against the desk edge. His paperwork is finally forgotten. One of his hands are now gripping the edge of the wood like it's the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. While the other covering his own mouth. You continue with slow, deep pulls, tongue curling on the upstroke, one hand stroking soothing circles into the trembling muscle of his inner thigh.

"Why don't you thank me?" blabbers of thank you came out, most of them muffled due to his hand.

"Thank-hm-you..thank yo-hmm baby.."

"Good boy."

He shudders violently at the praise. You reward him by taking him to the back of your throat and holding there until his hips jerk helplessly. When you finally pull back, he's panting, blown, the "overworked executive" completely replaced by a man coming apart at the seams.

You wipe your mouth, and wrap your hand around his length.

"I wanna hear you"

"You're insane," he laughs coming out shaky.

You move your hand, going quicker as time goes on, and his laugh fractures into a moan.

Every time you move, the desk creaks, and his breathing hitches higher. His words becomes total nonsense. You don't care. You just keep the rhythm steady and deep, one hand braced beside his, the other wrapped around him.

When he starts to tremble in earnest—when the little punched-out "ah—ah—" sounds turn into your name—you know his stubbornness has finally met its match. You press your lips to his tip.

"Cum for me. Right here. Forget the work."

That does it. He cums with his whole body, his back arching, thighs shaking, a choked cry muffled against his own sleeve. You feel him pulse around you.

For several long seconds, the only sounds are harsh breathing, and you standing up.

"...im never allowing you back in here..."

You slaugh against his shoulder, kissing the sweat-damp skin.

"I'd said I'll help you, never said what way"

He huffs, but when you finally pull out and help him straighten, he leans back into you, finally letting someone else carry the weight for a while.

All your favorites!

(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀʀɪʟɪɴɢs <3

[env10usness]

hii sorry im not good at making requests but i loved youre Izuru x reader stuff !! i was wondering if you could write some hurt/comfort Izuru x sick male (or gender neutral) reader stuff? like reader has a bad cold and has been feeling really ill and Izuru takes care of them.. i am unwell right now so.. yeah- its perfectly fine if not!!

𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔒𝔲𝔱𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 ℑ𝔰 𝔘𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶

𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔡𝔦ℭ𝔱𝔞𝔟𝔏𝔢.

I'm so sorry for not seeing this sooner, I was on a camping trip!! I apologize, I hope you feel better darling!

Izuru Kamukura x Male Reader. ! ! Full Fic ! !

(Its short I'm sorry!! Camping was a lot for a internet doll!!)

No warning? 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽...

𝖯𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖣𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗄, 𝗈𝗇... 𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇? You’𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖽𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋-𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝗐, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝖽𝗎𝗏𝖾𝗍, 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐-𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿-

"𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎?... 𝖨𝖹𝖴𝖱𝖴-?!" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽. 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼. 𝖣𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖽𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝗂𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗄.

"𝖠𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒."

"𝖸𝖾𝗌, 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝖨 𝖺𝗆"

"𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗆." 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐.

"𝖨𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗆." 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍.

𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽, 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖠 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗁, 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗄.

"𝖠𝗁?"

"𝖠𝗁." 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗆𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒. 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗆.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾.” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾𝗍𝗒.

"𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾. 𝖡𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀." 𝖳𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽.

"𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇?"

"𝖱𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗑."

"𝖶𝗁-"

"𝖱𝖾𝗌𝗍."

"𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎!"

"𝖱𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝖣𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀." 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽. 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗉 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗅 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗇𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁,

"𝖲𝗂𝗍 𝗎𝗉." 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎'𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗏𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾: 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌.

A spoon was brought to your lips.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖤𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾, 𝗇𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝗎𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗑𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽, 𝖽𝗂𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿.

𝖠𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗅. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽.

𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗇. 𝖣𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅. 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋... 𝖫𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗒.

𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇, 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽𝗅𝗒—𝗂𝖿 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾, 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾,” 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 , 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗋, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗋, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇.

"𝖪𝖺𝗒..."

“𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗒𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗈𝗆𝗌.” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋.

“𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇,” 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾.

"𝖴𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍" 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝖾𝗍, 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 , 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋.

He will not leave you behind.

⊱ ───── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

(◍•ᴗ•◍)❤︎

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀʀɪʟɪɴɢs <3

Thank you to @anitalenia for the gif divider!

[env10usness]

"𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔤𝔲𝔶𝔰" ?

"𝔉𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔰..."

𝖧𝖺𝗃𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗑 𝖦𝖭 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 & 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗑 𝖦𝖭 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ! ! 𝖧𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌 ! !

No warnings?

(𝖲𝖾𝗆𝗂 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝖲𝗋𝗋𝗒!) 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝖯𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽! Doll Notes : I enjoy writing this <3

ℌ𝔞𝔧𝔦𝔪𝔢 ℌ𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔞

★ 𝖨𝖿 𝖧𝖺𝗃𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗇 ultimate, 𝗂𝗍'𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾.

★ 𝖧𝖺𝗃𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 realize it at first, 𝖧𝖾'𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽.

★𝖧𝖺𝗃𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅. (𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖼) 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

- it was a sunny day, which usually was daily, but a murder hasn’t happened in a while so it was rather peaceful..You guessed. You stayed with Hajime to the dinner to treat yourself to something nice, or rather talk.

"How did you gain your ultimate?" Hajime asked before biting into his burger, You rambled about getting it when you were younger, you were promised to get it as an ultimate and if you didn't it was stupid.

"You know, What could be your ultimate Hajime? I mean you must've have one." You asked subconsciously, not thinking of the outcome.

"Nothing. I mean I know I must've have one. I just felt empty, maybe I was so prideful my life surrounded my ultimate...Just can't imagine who I was with it." Oh fuck Hajime let out a breathy laugh before chugging down his water to avoid eye contact.

"Sorry, ha.. That got kinda heavy so quickly"

"I mean.. you listen to people, you notice people don’t...you-" You rambled listing off Hajime’s traits

“Thats..not really an ultimate." He laughed, or choked? He did drink a hell lot of water.

"I mean an ultimate could include does traits?"

"Even if its true... It's still nothing compared to you." you hated that you hated that’s slightly distance he kept putting between you guys. You kicked his shin under the table

"What was that for?!" He choked out

"For deciding what I decide to think of you"

"Why does that matter so much"

"well it sucks to watch someone who’s worth so much more than they think. Hajime." you said purposely singing out Hajime's name.

There was a long pause of silence, before Hajime mumbled-

"Idiot"

"Your friends with an idiot then" Friends.

-

★ 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁, 𝗁𝖾'𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖲𝗈 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾.

★ 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 accused 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖧𝖺𝗃𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗒. (𝖬𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗌)

★ 𝖧𝖺𝗃𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 to accept compliments even if he doesn't believe them. Hajime doesn't have an talent so he feels like it's unbelievable to get a compliment from someone who's the best at their 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍.

- "you did really good during the trial" You spat out, despite being saddened from his friends death.

"No I didn't.." Hajime broke any sense eye contact he had with you saying that.

"Your really good at staying calm. you you handle the trial so well"

"Thats not- I mean anyone could've.-" He cut myself off, and exhales slowly rubbing the back of his neck.

"Thanks.." it comes up a bit stiff. You smile anyways. and for a second you think he may argue again. He doesn't though, knowing if you just smiles at him he'll fold. 

"Though, do you really mean that?" Nevermind. This is Hajime Hinata your talking to.

"Hajime." You dropped your smile immediately.

"Okay okay... Thank you."

-

★ 𝖧𝖺𝗃𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗌. 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀. 

★ 𝖩𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌. 𝖧𝖾'𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗉𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝗎𝗍 absolutely refuses to talk to you about it.

ℑ𝔷𝔲𝔯𝔲 𝔎𝔞𝔪𝔲𝔨𝔲𝔯𝔞

𖤐 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍'𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖩𝗎𝗇𝗄𝗈.

𖤐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖲𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝖺 𝗏𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 

𖤐𝖨𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆.

𖤐He tests you sometimes. Asks weird or heavy questions, just to see how you think.

𖤐 𝖧𝖾 𝖬𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. (It mostly starts off with him 'helping' you with something you never needed help with.)

- you were making your plan or rather decorating Junko's plan since its was basic! especially for Junko!!! You were humming a tone that you didn’t even know where it's from. honestly Junko version was kinda disappointing.

"That Melody." Your glitter pen stoped, you never heard him walk in I mean, of course you didn't! It added so much thrill! You looked up seeing Izuru standing there, observing you.

"What about it?" You joked

"It's inconsistent."

"Kayyyy????" you singed out

"it does not follow a structured pattern. You altered it three times within the last thirty seconds."you stare at him. 

"Were you here counting?!"

"Yes."

"Such a stalker!" you tease, before turning your focus towards Junko plan. There’s a pause and he doesn’t leave. Of course!

"You are also modifying her plan"

"No duh!"

"It was already sufficient"

"Sufficient is boring!" you snort lightly. That word was silently reserved for Izuru and Izuru only.  . . .

"Why are you still here! Shouldn't you find something not 'boring'" you imitated him with the word boring.

"You are more interesting than the plan"

"Wow a feel so honored!" You say before humming again.

"you changed the melody again"

"... I literally did not "

"you lowered the pitch slightly at the end"

"Meanie!!!"

-

𖤐 𝖨𝗓𝗎𝗋𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍. 𝖸𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𖤐 He starts prioritizing you without realizing, out of all possible choices, outcomes, paths, he keeps choosing the ones that involve you.

- you going on a project despair mission, and you all were going solo. Since everyone had a different human subject. Junko decided no one was going to overlap, despite knowing she was going to overlap with the others.

You skim over your file, already half-focused on execution. Timing, entry points, psychological pressure..Kinda easy enough.

"I will accompany you" you looked up and..

"Nope!" across the room, Izuru Kamukura stands completely sti, file closed, his expression unreadable as always.

"This is a mission solo!"

"I'm aware"

"Then why are you-"

"There is no disadvantages" You blink. Clearly caught off guard.

"... That's not the point!" you whine.

"It is. Your assignment presents the highest variability" Huh???

"So your saying I'm unpredictable?" You cross your arms, eyes shining with a despair filled sparkle.

"Yes."

"Woww! I feel soo special, and not boring!" You teased mocking his Signature line.

"You are."

"Fineee! You can join me"

-

𖤐 You are, statistically, his favorite variable. He would never say that out loud. 

:♡.•♬✧⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾*+:•*∴

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀʀɪʟɪɴɢs <3

[env10usness]

𝖢𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆 𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗈 ꒰ ᐢ ◞‸◟ᐢ꒱ ! ! 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀...

(𝖯𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 ˶ˊᜊˋ˶)