#filedbyrangiku

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𝘾𝘼𝙎𝙀 002

𝙎𝙐𝘽𝙅𝙀𝘾𝙏: Pʜɪɴᴋs Mᴀɢᴄᴜʙ

𝘼𝙂𝙀: 28

𝙃𝙀𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏: 185𝙘𝙢 (6𝙛𝙩1)

𝘼𝙁𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙄𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉: Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ Tʀᴏᴜᴘᴇ (Gᴇɴᴇɪ Rʏᴏᴅᴀɴ)

𝘾𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙁𝙄𝘾𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉: 𝗘𝘅𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗛𝗶𝗴𝗵 𝗥𝗶𝘀𝗸 𝗦𝘂𝗯𝗷𝗲𝗰𝘁

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The first time you met him, he looked less like a man and more like something that had clawed its way out of a fight it refused to lose.

Your shift had ended nearly half an hour ago. The small neighborhood clinic was quiet, the waiting room lights already switched off while you carried a bag of medical waste toward the bins behind the building. It was routine, until you caught movement in the corner of your eye.

At first, you thought it was a stray animal. Instead, a tall blond man sat against a stack of wooden crates, one hand pressed firmly against his side. His black shirt was stained with blood, dark enough that it had begun dripping onto the pavement. His jacket had been discarded beside him. Despite the wound, there wasn't a trace of panic on his face. If anything, he looked irritated that he had to stop moving.

The moment your eyes met, his expression hardened.

"Keep walking."

His voice was low and flat, carrying the certainty of someone who expected to be obeyed.

You almost did.

Then another drop of blood landed near your shoe.

"...You're hurt."

"Not your problem."

It wasn't.

Logically, you should've listened. You didn't know him. You didn't know how he'd gotten injured, or why he looked so unconcerned by it.

Still, you sighed, setting the bag down.

"If you keep applying pressure like that, it'll slow the bleeding, but it won't stop. You're going to leave a trail halfway across the city."

For the first time, he actually looked at you.

You walked closer.

"I can patch it up."

"I didn't ask."

"I know."

Silence lingered between you before he finally sighs and moves his hand away from the wound.

"...Do whatever."

The injury wasn't as catastrophic as it had first appeared, but it was deep enough that leaving it untreated would've been a mistake. You cleaned it carefully, ignoring the fact that he never so much as flinched. He watched you work without asking questions, his gaze strangely focused.

"You've got a high pain tolerance," you murmured.

A quiet snort escaped him.

When you finished, you handed him a fresh roll of bandages.

"Change these tomorrow. And try not to lift anything heavy."

He stared at the bandages before letting out a short laugh.

"...Yeah."

You had the distinct feeling he wasn't planning to follow that advice. He stood, picked up his jacket, and walked away without another word. You assumed that was the last time you'd ever see him.

It wasn't.

Two weeks later, you were halfway through another evening shift when a familiar voice interrupted the clinic's silence.

"You again."

The blond man stood in the waiting room with his hands shoved into his pockets.

"You ignored everything I told you, didn't you?"

"...Probably."

You rolled your eyes.

"I figured."

He wasn't injured this time.

He claimed he was "just passing through."

You didn't question it.

People wandered into the clinic all the time. The conversation would've ended there if another customer hadn't arrived. He was one of the regulars. Not because he needed medical attention. Because he'd realized you usually worked the late shift alone. You recognized the smile before he even spoke.

"There you are." He slurred.

You forced the same polite smile you always used.

"Can I help you?"

"You could get off work with me."

"No."

"C'mon. Don't be like that."

He leaned over the reception desk anyway.

You reacted by taking a small step back.

"I'm working."

"So?"

Before you could repeat yourself, another hand landed on the man's shoulder.

Firm.

Heavy.

He turned.

"...Who the hell are—"

The sentence never finished.

One clean punch sent him stumbling backward into the chairs lining the wall. The room fell silent. The blond man looked down at him with complete indifference.

"Should've left when they told you to."

It wasn't shouted.

It sounded like a simple observation.

The man scrambled to his feet, muttering curses as he hurried out the door without looking back.

You stared after him before turning toward your unexpected rescuer.

"...You didn't have to hit him that hard."

"He'll live...probably."

For a brief second, you almost laughed.

"Thanks."

He shrugged like it hadn't been worth mentioning.

(A few minutes later)

You locked the clinic door behind the fleeing customer before letting out a long breath.

"Honestly..." I trail off.

"What?" Phinks questions.

"Guys like that show up all the time."

His eyes shifted toward you.

"They know I'm usually here by myself."

You leaned against the reception desk.

"Unfortunately I can't do shit about it because my boss is just as bad as those morons."

He didn't respond.

You kept talking anyway.

"He always schedules me for nights, then somehow finds an excuse to stop by before closing."

You gave a dry laugh.

"I don't know how I've managed to work here this long."

The blond man didn't offer sympathy.

He didn't tell you everything would be okay.

He only asked one question.

"...Your boss."

"Hm?"

"What's his name?"

You answered without thinking.

He gave a single nod.

The conversation drifted elsewhere.

By the time he left, you'd already forgotten the question.

He hadn't.

The changes were gradual enough that you almost didn't notice.

The regular customer never returned.

Neither did the man who used to wait outside my bus stop every Thursday.

Another familiar face disappeared.

Then another.

You mentioned it to a coworker once.

"It's been quiet lately."

They shrugged.

"Guess people got bored."

Maybe. You certainly weren't complaining.

Then your boss stopped showing up.

One day became three.

Three became ten.

Three weeks passed without a single unwanted comment or lingering stare.

It should've been impossible.

Yet somehow, the clinic had become peaceful. By then, seeing the blond man around the neighborhood had become oddly... normal.

Sometimes he'd be leaning against the vending machines across the street. Sometimes sitting on a bench with a canned coffee. Sometimes simply walking past while you were on your break. Though, you never questioned how often your schedules seemed to overlap.

One evening, you found him exactly where you'd expected.

You sat beside him with a drink.

"You know what's weird?"

He glanced sideways.

"What."

"My boss."

"What about him?"

"I haven't seen him in three weeks."

You laughed softly, staring at the evening traffic.

"I know I should probably be concerned...But honestly? It's kind of nice." You smiled.

"All the people who used to bother me just... disappeared."

You shook your head.

"Maybe I finally got lucky."

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he took another sip from his coffee.

"...Maybe."

The word was quiet, almost thoughtful. You smiled, content with the answer. Beside you, Phinks watched the street with the same irritant expression he'd always worn.

He remembered every face.

Every name.

Every complaint you'd spoken without a second thought.

To him, none of it had been difficult.

You'd said they were making your life harder.

So he'd made sure they couldn't anymore.

And because you'd never asked what happened to them...

He never saw a reason to tell you.

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𝘾𝘼𝙎𝙀 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙏𝙐𝙎: 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗗 𝗖𝗔𝗦𝗘

𝙁𝙄𝙉𝘼𝙇 𝙍𝙀𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙆𝙎:

Sᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴs ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ sᴜsᴘɪᴄɪᴏɴ.

Dᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇs ᴏᴄᴄᴜʀʀɪɴɢ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜsᴘᴇᴄᴛ, ɴᴏ ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ ᴇᴠɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴡɪᴛɴᴇss ᴛᴇsᴛɪᴍᴏɴʏ, ᴏʀ ғᴏʀᴇɴsɪᴄ ғɪɴᴅɪɴɢs ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛʟʏ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛ Pʜɪɴᴋs Mᴀɢᴄᴜʙ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛs.

Iɴᴠᴇsᴛɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ sᴜsᴘᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ɪɴᴅᴇғɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ.

𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙊𝙉: Iɴsᴜғғɪᴄɪᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇᴇᴅ.

𝙍𝙀𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙉𝘿𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉:

Sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀ ɪɴ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ sɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ ɪɴᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛs, ʀᴇᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴠᴇsᴛɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪᴍᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇʟʏ.

𝙄𝙉𝙑𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙄𝙂𝘼𝙏𝙊𝙍'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀:

Sᴏᴍᴇ ᴄᴀsᴇs ᴀʀᴇɴ'ᴛ ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʀᴇ sᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ.

Sᴏᴍᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ.

𝙄𝙉𝙑𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙄𝙂𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 𝙍𝙀𝙌𝙐𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝘽𝙔: @awkward-writes-shit

𝘾𝘼𝙎𝙀 𝘼𝙍𝘾𝙃𝙄𝙑𝙀𝘿.

𝙁𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮: ☾︎𝓡𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓴𝓾☽︎

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𝘾𝘼𝙎𝙀 001

𝙎𝙐𝘽𝙅𝙀𝘾𝙏: Hᴀʀᴜᴄʜɪʏᴏ Aᴋᴀsʜɪ (Sᴀɴᴢᴜ)

𝘼𝙂𝙀: 20

𝙃𝙀𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏: 172𝙘𝙢 (5𝙛𝙩8)

𝘼𝙁𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙄𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉: B̸O̸N̸T̸E̸N̸

𝘾𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙁𝙄𝘾𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉: 𝗛𝗶𝗴𝗵 𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗸 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝗷𝗲𝗰𝘁

𝘾𝘼𝙎𝙀 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙏𝙐𝙎: 𝗔𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗜𝗻𝘃𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻

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"𝔇𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔪𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔬𝔯 𝔦'𝔩𝔩 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔱"

- ᕼᗩ

The first time you met Haruchiyo Akashi, you were young enough to mistake curiosity for courage.

Your families had gone out together countless times before, but that afternoon was the first time you had paid any real attention to Senju's older brothers. Takeomi had been loud, perpetually involved in whatever nonsense Senju was causing, whereas Haruchiyo seemed content to remain at the edge of every gathering, existing just outside the circle of conversation.

The scars were what caught your attention. Children were cruelly honest creatures. Most would have stared and then looked away when caught. You simply walked up to him.

"Does it still hurt?"

Sanzu glanced up from where he sat on a park bench, one elbow draped lazily across the backrest.

"What?"

You pointed directly at your own mouth.

"The scars."

A brief silence followed before his eyes narrowed slightly.

"You know you're not supposed to ask people things like that."

"Why?"

"It's rude."

"…oh."

You considered this.

Then, after a moment, you added, "But I really wanted to know, though."

To your surprise, a laugh escaped him.

Not loud nor warm.

Just enough to suggest he found something amusing.

"You've got terrible manners."

"Huh?! But mom says curiosity is important!"

"Well, your mom’s a liar."

You pout, and somehow, despite the insult, that became the beginning.

Your friendship formed without either of you noticing it.

Whenever the families gathered together, you inevitably found yourself beside him. If Senju was climbing trees and Takeomi was yelling at someone, then Haruchiyo was usually sitting somewhere nearby, quietly observing the chaos while pretending not to enjoy it.

You quickly became an inconvenience he tolerated.

Then an inconvenience he expected.

Then something else entirely.

One evening, while the adults sat around a restaurant table discussing matters that seemed impossibly boring to children, you slid into the empty seat beside him.

"What are you reading?"

"A book."

"I’m not stupid; I can see that."

He sighed dramatically before turning the cover toward you.

Your eyes lit up.

"No way."

Recognition crossed his features.

"You know (favourite manga)?" He asked.

"Know it? It’s literally my favourite!" I exclaimed.

For the first time that evening, Haruchiyo smiled.

From then on, conversations became easier. Books led to films. Films led to music, and arguments followed naturally after that. The two of you disagreed on nearly everything, which only seemed to make the friendship stronger.

Unfortunately, childhood had a habit of ending when nobody was paying attention.

You and your parents moved across the city.

School became more demanding.

Lives diverged.

At first there were still phone calls and messages. Then the messages became occasional. Eventually they stopped altogether.

Only Senju remained constant.

And every now and then, when old memories resurfaced, you would casually ask about Haruchiyo.

The reaction was always strange.

One afternoon, you and Senju were on a phone call while she unpacked boxes into her new apartment; you found yourself reminiscing and laughing about something Haruchiyo had done years earlier.

"Oh man, he was always such an odd one. I wonder what he's doing now." You comment with your mind already in the clouds.

Senju remained silent.

The change was subtle, but you knew her too well to miss it.

"You shouldn't."

“Hmn?” You hum absentmindedly. "Shouldn’t what?"

"Wonder about him."

You paused.

The response was so oddly serious that you almost laughed.

"Why are you acting like that?" You said half-joking.

Senju carefully folded a shirt before answering.

"Because some things are better left alone."

The explanation made no sense, and when you pushed further, she refused to elaborate. Eventually, seeing how visibly uncomfortable the topic made her, you stopped asking altogether. And, given enough time, you stopped thinking about him as well.

Years later, life appeared to have aligned perfectly. You had secured a position you genuinely enjoyed. You had moved closer to your workplace. Closer to Senju, closer to old memories. It felt as though everything was finally settling into place.

The first odd occurrence barely registered.

A coffee appeared at your desk one morning.

Your exact regular order.

Feeling skeptical, you go ask the receptionist if they had seen anyone leave the drink at your desk.

“Your boyfriend!” They replied cheerfully.

You pause.

“I don’t have a boyfriend…”

Their face twisted in confusion. “You…don’t?”

I tried to brush off the look they gave and told them not to worry about it. However, the second occurrence was harder to dismiss. Then came the flowers. Then the persistent feeling that someone was watching.

Nothing obvious.

Nothing concrete.

Only a series of small incidents which, individually, meant very little and collectively felt impossible to explain. Still, you dismissed them.

Most people do.

After all, nobody wants to believe they are being observed. But then the truth revealed itself on a rainy evening.

The city gleamed beneath the storm, every streetlight fractured across wet pavement like shattered gold. You were halfway through the dim parking structure, the echo of your footsteps swallowed by the concrete silence. Rain hammered outside, urging you to dig frantically through your purse for the car keys—you refused to be drenched over something so trivial. But then, your fingers brushed against something unfamiliar. Nestled inside your bag was a small gift box, one you knew you hadn’t placed there. A chill crawled up your spine. Whoever was behind these twisted games had struck again. Without hesitation, you hurled the box away without giving it a second thought.

"That's a disappointing reaction." A familiar voice emerged from the shadows.

Your footsteps faltered.

The voice was older now.

Rougher.

Yet unmistakable.

Slowly, you turned.

And there he was.

Standing beneath fluorescent lights.

Pink hair.

Dark suit.

Scars you would have recognized anywhere.

For several seconds, neither of you spoke.

Haruchiyo studied you with unsettling intensity, as though comparing the woman before him to a memory he had spent years preserving.

When he finally spoke, there was something unexpectedly fragile beneath the calm.

"You don't remember me."

The statement wasn't angry.

That was what made it disturbing.

It sounded wounded.

You frowned.

"Haruchiyo?"

A strange expression crossed his face.

As though a tension he had carried for years had finally loosened.

"There we go." He praised.

The words were so quiet you almost missed them. Yet his expression was so sick and twisted that you couldn’t help but put even more distance between you both.

What followed should have felt like a reunion.

Instead, it felt like stepping into a memory that had never truly belonged to you.

The longer he spoke, the quieter the world around you became.

"The coffee," he said simply. "You always stop at the café on Fridays, but you started skipping it, so i made it my job to bring you one every Friday. Reception wouldn't give me access at first, so I told them I was your boyfriend."

Your breath caught.

"The flowers too?"

He tilted his head, studying your expression with quiet curiosity.

"I really thought you'd recognise the lilies."

Your pulse lurched.

"And the gift?" you whispered.

His gaze drifted to the small box lying where you had discarded it, rainwater collecting around its edges.

A faint sigh escaped him.

"You threw it away."

He crossed the distance between you, crouched, and lifted it from the wet concrete with surprising care. Brushing a thumb across the lid, he opened it as though handling something irreplaceable.

Nestled inside was a worn first-edition copy of the manga the two of you had devoured as children—the one you'd borrowed from him so many times the spine had begun to split.

Your stomach dropped.

"...How?"

"You left it at my house," he answered softly. "You said I should keep it safe until next time."

He smiled—not triumphantly, but with a shit eating grin that made your skin crawl.

"I did."

The rain drummed steadily against the concrete. I steadied myself as I got ready to run far away from the man I once called my friend.

"Don't move, or I'll shoot."

He warned in a low tone. I paused, immediately noticing the gun he had pulled from his back pocket.

"Haru..." Your voice trembled. "Why?"

He looked genuinely puzzled.

"Why?"

The word lingered between you.

"You were never supposed to disappear."

His fingers rested lightly against the cover of the manga as he closed the distance between you two.

"I let years pass, thinking you'd find your way back."

His eyes met yours.

Crazed yet certain.

"I won't make that mistake again."

You stood rooted beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, unable to look away from the boy you had once known and the man who had spent years preserving a place in his life that you no longer remembered occupying.

.

.

.

The rain continued long after the parking structure had fallen silent. By morning, there was no trace of the conversation—only a damp cardboard box resting beneath the fluorescent lights, its lid left open beside a small set of car keys that had never made it to the ignition.

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𝘾𝘼𝙎𝙀 𝘾𝙇𝙊𝙎𝙀𝘿.

𝙁𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮: ☾︎𝓡𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓴𝓾☽︎

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𝘾𝘼𝙎𝙀 𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙀 #0001

𝙁𝙄𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉𝘼𝙇 𝘽𝙀𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙄𝙊𝙐𝙍𝘼𝙇 𝘼𝙍𝘾𝙃𝙄𝙑𝙀

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𝘼𝘾𝘾𝙀𝙎𝙎 𝙇𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙇: 𝙂𝙍𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙀𝘿

𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙏𝙐𝙎: 𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙑𝙀

𝙇𝙀𝘼𝘿 𝙄𝙉𝙑𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙄𝙂𝘼𝙏𝙊𝙍: ☾︎𝓡𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓴𝓾☽︎ (𝙎𝙝𝙚/𝙃𝙚𝙧)

𝙔𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙎 𝙊𝙁 𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙑𝙄𝘾𝙀: 18

𝙎𝙋𝙀𝘾𝙄𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙕𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉: 𝙊𝘽𝙎𝙀𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙑𝙀 𝘽𝙀𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙄𝙊𝙐𝙍𝘼𝙇 𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙄𝙉𝙂

𝘾𝙐𝙍𝙍𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝘼𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙂𝙉𝙈𝙀𝙉𝙏:

𝗔𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗜𝗻𝘃𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗘𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗙𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗕𝗲𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝗖𝗮𝘀𝗲𝘀

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𝘾𝘼𝙎𝙀 𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔

𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗱𝘂𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝗲𝘅𝗵𝗶𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁, 𝗼𝗯𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗲𝘀, 𝗽𝘀𝘆𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆, 𝗲𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗰𝘆, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗿𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗹𝘁𝗵𝘆 𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀.

𝗘𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝘀𝗲. (ᵃˢᵏˢ)

𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘀 𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲.

𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗹𝘆.

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🆆︎🅰︎🆁︎🅽︎🅸︎🅽︎🅶︎

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁𝘀 𝗻𝗼 𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿

❣︎ 𝗘𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻.

❣︎ 𝗗𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗹𝗮𝗴𝘀.

❣︎ 𝗨𝗻𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝘁-𝗸𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴.

❣︎ 𝗜𝗿𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗳𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗵𝗿𝗮𝘀𝗲,

"𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮"

❣︎ 𝗗𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗰.

𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙙𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙.

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𝘾𝘼𝙎𝙀 𝙎𝙐𝘽𝙈𝙄𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉𝙎: 𝙊𝙋𝙀𝙉

𝙀𝙑𝙄𝘿𝙀𝙉𝘾𝙀 𝙇𝙊𝘾𝙆𝙀𝙍: 𝘼𝙑𝘼𝙄𝙇𝘼𝘽𝙇𝙀

𝙄𝙉𝙑𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙄𝙂𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙏𝙐𝙎: 𝙊𝙉𝙂𝙊𝙄𝙉𝙂

Oooo okay 😆

Nothing is in order btw, this is just what I can remember off the top of my head rn 😭

Top 5 anime:

• Saiki K

• Attack on Titan

• My Hero Academia

• Tokyo Revengers

• Bleach

HM anime:

• Gangsta.

• Death Note

• Ouran High School Host Club

• The Apothecary Diaries

Top 5 cartoon shows:

• The Amazing World of Gumball

• Adventure Time

• Inside Job

• Gravity Falls

• Old SpongeBob 😭

Top 5 movies:

• Scream 1–6

• 10 Things I Hate About You

• Feel the Beat

• Descendants 1–3

• Mean Girls

Stuff on / used to be on Netflix that I like:

• Full House

• Fuller House

• Tia & Tamera

There’s definitely more but my brain is drawing a blank rn 😭