#Harry Potter films | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beware-of-pity · 8 days ago

Text

Cinnamon Girl - I

Masterlist I Ao3 link I Previous Chapter - Next

Harry James Potter x Reader

Summary :

Dreams we can’t remember are reality that we crave

Chapter I: Oh, who is she? (A misty memory, a haunting face)

. ⚯ ͛

Dreams, such a fickle thing they are. Up until three years ago, Harry thought dreams could only be that, mere dreams. No more realer than the idea of Ron finally confessing his feelings for Hermione. Unimaginable things, those were what he believed them to be.

However, by his fourth year, everything had changed.

He believed his vision of Barty Crouch Jr., whose identity he did not recognise, accepting his new mission from the considerably weaker Dark Lord was simply a terrible nightmare.

He simmered over it all summer; he spoke of it to very few, and no one had proved helpful in clearing his mind of the doubt it lingered with. Until he had watched the very same man be exposed for the snake he was, in one of Dumbledore's memories, swimming in the pensive which he had stumbled upon. The moment it was revealed by Igor Karkaroff that Barty Jr was a death eater doing the Dark Lord’s dirty deeds and that he had a hand in the capture and torture of Neville’s parents, he knew then that that dream was no dream but rather reality, a passive memory that someone had witnessed.

Since then, he has rarely experienced peaceful nights as he once had. His scar would throb all the same, the burning sensation of the scarred flesh on his forehead intensifying the pain caused by the visions he was forced to endure by his other half. Last year, they had nearly driven him mad, reaching levels of exasperation he had not known until then. When he was made to watch that serpent attack Mr Weasley at the Ministry, it all culminated in his breaking point. He was handled like a fragile, overfilled, vase about to break— pale and scared out of his mind he was, and probably looked the part.

The reality into which his dreams had twisted was the cataclysms that led him to believe that Sirius was indeed being tortured by Voldemort, as well. But he wasn’t, and he paid the price of believing so first-hand.

The isolation he endured because people refused to believe that Voldemort was back, the judgmental glances that his defensive behaviour got him, the murmurs and whispers following him along the halls he walked in loneliness. Everything was too much for him to handle, to the point where everything could get the best of him and lead his senses astray. That was his plan all along. He realised too late. He wishes he could go back and tell himself not to listen to what was meticulously presented as the perfect bait for the taking.

The moment he snapped, everyone around him became aware of his predicament.

Everything about him could never remain a secret, nothing of his could ever be privy to his persona. Somehow, everyone had to know, either for their protection, to get further help, or they found out in the worst of times. Nothing of Harry could truly be his and his alone.

His life was not his; he had to share it with the man who had killed his parents so he could kill him, too.

How tiresome it could get to be him. There were times when Harry wished he was anyone but Harry, that he could, one day, get to live a life that was his own, of his design, one of his choosing. His life had been so hectic, so chaotic, so all over the place, that were it up to him, he would choose a calm, quiet life, a domestic one, filled with the people he cared about most, with those he loved most, where the light shines bright in the sky and where darkness did not exist. Where he was content, and no trouble would find him. Where he could do as he pleased, walk where he pleased, breathe the open air.

Think, sleep, and dream freely without worrying about his mind being filled by some unknown entity.

He had tried to struggle against whoever was trying their hand at entering his mind, a fight for dominance he realised much too soon that he could not.

His hands were tied, his resistance not strong enough. His adversary was leagues ahead of him in this department, someone with much greater experience.

But strangely, or thankfully enough, they had not proved a threat to him, for now at least. That did not mean he enjoyed their presence, flanking about his mind. Memories of all the unpleasant times he’d been unable to withstand Professor Snape’s violation of his mind for him to grow stronger against the Dark Lord were just as reminiscent of what he was enduring now. What the man had taught him seemed to not work this time.

The mind and the dreams filling it were two different things, forecast by his senses, senses he had no control over, therefore, whilst he could counter at times, by sheer luck, the legimency spell, he could not, to his misfortune, counter back whatever this natural state he fell to was.

He did not possess neither the instruments nor the mastery on how to handle such a thing.

Nonetheless, the first time he had felt the gushing forth of another presence in his mind had not been a pleasant ordeal.

He had been able to catch only a brief sight before he woke in a cold sweat; his shirt dumped around the collar from both the nightly summer heat and his body having a natural, convulsing reaction to him trying to get as far away from his dreamland the instant he realised what was happening. That time, he’d been able to escape the imminent, the second, he had not been so fortunate.

He had practically fallen off the bed, waking Ron in a frenzied startle, who was sleeping in the corner beside him, making him jump out of his wits. He had stood from the floor, with his head convulsing in pain from the hit he got the moment he met the floor and his stomach churning from the sudden fall. He must have been trashing in his sleep, and as panic rippled through him as he felt a shuddering breath run at the nape of his neck as he urged to pull away from the avalanche coming his way, he must have also flipped himself off the comfort of his bed.

"You look like hell." Ron had pointed out one of those mornings after, at the breakfast table, snapping Harry out of his silent thoughts. Ron glances at him over the cup of orange juice he held up in his face to sip.

Harry shook his head "i'm fine," he said "It's just the hìeat”

“Yeah, the heat” replied Ron, not at all convinced by Harry reasoning for looking like crap.

"You know you can tell us if something’s wrong, Harry," reassured Hermione, from where she sat beside Ron. Ginny, who sat beside Harry, eyed him curiously, but she, too, was concerned about the way he was continuously spacing out of reality and into his mind.

Ron nodded in agreement. "Yeah, mate. We're here for you.”

“I know, guys, but I’m fine,” he said as he grabbed his fork to indulge in the food that had gone too long untouched. Ron and Hermione look at each other with the same understanding of the situation.

Alas, perhaps pushed by his curiosity, on his fifth or so night, he wasn’t sure, he had stopped counting a long time ago, of restlessness, he had decided to be the brave Gryffindor he was supposed to be and face whatever entered his mind at the darkest times of the night and the deepest hour of his sleep. He had faced worse things in the years since he had begun attending Hogwarts, what could be the worst that could happen to him?

Usually, each night, as a lump rose his troath, the fog in his mind became thicker, and his body convulsed slightly, twitching as if he were a ferret, and then he would wake. This time, it would wait it out, awaiting that which he had begun to fear.

And there he found himself, with nothing but darkness surrounding him. No one in sight, but he knew they were there — they always were, the shadows enjoying themselves as they chuckled and murmured to themselves, watching him as if he were a prey ready for the taking.

But, even as his heartbeat to a pace it only did when the worst circumstances presented themselves to him, Harry wasn’t met with horrible visions of the times that pained him most or with images of the dark doings of his other half —rather, little balls of light, white and as pure as freshly laid snow on a cold winter morning at dawn, flocked around him, one by one, attaching themselves to his body, in all places, as they ‘helped’ him through the darkness and vastness that succumbed this strange place he found himself in. They tugged, pulled, the force being their actions stronger than he thought them possible.

He did not know where they were taking him. Despite this, the warmth the balls of fuzz emanated around his skin had an almost soothing effect on him.

He tested how far he could go with them when he tried to touch one, but the vibration it emitted, caused by the strong energy inside it, did not permit him to get too close to its core. Harry’s feet slushed through the apparent dark waters he had sunk into, sometimes stumbling into nothing at all, as his senses began to grow weary of the journey he was being taken on. The cold seeped at him through the freezing waves entering the palm of his feet that felt almost chilling at the contrast it created with the warmth of these little creatures, surrounding him like the gentle embrace of an old friend.

At the end of the tunnel of darkness, he found the light he’d hoped to meet.

The one that would keep him safe from the murky gloom that had led his senses astray. The same warmth those creatures stuck to his skin emitted blinded him. It was calling him to approach, beckoning to be followed.

He was safe.

Waiting for him there, there was no darkness. No shadows of the past, no pain, no ghosts coming back to haunt him. No, instead, staring back at him, standing in the light, there they were, his parents, James and Lily Potter, looking as young as the day they were killed, healthy and unmarred. They smiled, waving to him warmly and invitingly.

He could hear his mother calling his name, smiling the same way she did in those photos he spent countless nights flipping over. However, her voice was distant, far away, static, and muffled as it reverbed through the hall of light they were standing in and into his body.

Nonetheless, he could feel the sweetness and melody of it. He stumbled as his feet began to charge him forward.

“Mum” he whispered, his eyes wide in disbelief.

The voice grew louder, beckoning him forward. They were waiting for him, after all, and they didn’t have much time. Lily called once more, her voice clearer now, her tone of voice urgent. "Harry, come here."

James was also waiting for him, standing beside Lily and looking just as young and handsome as his wife. "come to us, my boy”

"Mum, Dad," his feet rushed him forward against the protest his mind urged him to listen to. This could be a trap, well planned by whoever was entering his mind to trick him. But Harry had thrown all caution out the window the moment his eyes seared the figure of his parents standing before him.

Both James and Lily had wide smiles on their faces as they watched Harry approaching them. James held his arms open wide by the minute as Harry grew closer.

"Harry." They called together.

He crushes into their awaiting arms, clinging to their form like a lifeline, as if the moment would end soon. He knew that regardless of whatever this way, he didn’t have much time with them, and he wanted to savour all the time he would be given.

James held him close, pressing his cheek against Harry's hair. "We're so happy to see you." Lily pulled him into her arms, kissing the top of his head.

He had grown so much since he had begun his journey at Hogwarts; he had been dealt a hand in so many tribulations that no one before him had ever had to, and yet no matter how stronger or weaker he grew, how older and wiser he became, he was still a boy, who missed the parents he had never got to know, the ones he wishes he had, those that had died when he was just a baby. The man and woman he wished been there to raise him instead of the Dursdley, the two most important people in the world that he knew would have raised him with love, would have never had him want for nothing and would not have made him sleep under the cupboard beneath stairs. The ones that would have never hidden the existence of magic from him, that would have introduced the world they were well known in ever since he could talk, where he could have thrived even more under their guidance.

James chuckled, shaking his head as Harry sobbed. "Oh, you're all grown up now, aren't you? So much older." He said, looking Harry up and down. James stroked Harry's hair lovingly as he held him. "We've missed you so much." Lily buried her face into the crook of Harry's neck.

There was a moment of peace as the three of them embraced, a peace Harry was unfamiliar with, but one he wished he could always have. James eventually pulled back to look at Harry.

"We're so proud of you.”

"We always have been." Lily chimed in.

"You've accomplished so much," James said a proud smile on his face.

"Not enough" Harry crocked "I still have to.... fight and defeat him," he said "I have to avenge you two”

"You can do it, son," James said softly.

"You're a strong boy," Lily added, patting his shoulder. “We’ll always be beside you, Harry. Remember you’re not alone”

The reassurance of his parents felt like a balm soothing the ache his soul had been carrying ever since the events that scarred the end of his fifth school year. The hard knot in his troath clenches around the soft flesh, and he tries to gulp it down. He smiles at them, but it’s a smile that carries along the pain that he always tries to shield others from. The one he feels he has to carry to protect others from the cause of his pain.

Lily, ever the intuitive one, smiles in turn, noticing the pain behind her son’s smile.

“It’s okay to feel pain,” she told him." but you must not pain yourself any further than you're already been, baby”

"We don't want to see you hurting" James added, rubbing at Harry's back gently, "let it hurt, that's okay, but don't bury it inside.”

"Feel your pain, but don't let yourself drown in it" Lily instructed. “Make it your own, master it, and wield it against those that have hurt you”

With each reassurance, Harry began to feel his parents slipping from his grip, their once clear and homogenous forms beginning to fade, turning ghastly white, almost transparent beings he could see through. He knew he would wake soon.

"We love you," Lily said, "remember that always.”

"no" he murmured shaking his head "No, don't go!" his tone held the urgency of the adrenaline pumping through his body as he felt his parents slip away from him.

"You have to let go, Harry," the regret in his father’s voice was strong. No parent would wish to see their child in such a state of distress.

"We have to leave," Lily said, her voice laced with sorrow. “but she will bring us back to you, don't worry”

Harry wanted to ask, to question, to plead with his mother for the meaning of her words. He wanted more time; he deserved more time. Was it so bad for him to ask? Why had life been so unfair to him? What had he ever done to deserve such a thing? And who is 'she'? What did his mother mean that 'she' would bring them back?

"Trust us, sweetheart," James said, pressing a kiss to Harry's head. "She will take care of you”

"She will look after you, I promise," Lily assured her son. "just, don't fight her, let her into your mind” “She means no harm” reassured James “Trust us, Harry”

“Now, wake up”

Harry's eyes snapped open in a frenzy, his breath growing rugged with each broken breath that left the confines of his ribcage. His sight was a blurry mess of smudged blotches of colours that ran his mind wild. The images of his mother and father faded, to be replaced only by the light coming from the lining window atop his bed. The pain in his chest, however, still lingered. The warmth from the light had disappeared, and only the cold of the night remained, despite it being morning. He ran a hand over his face, wiping away the sweat that had drizzled down his temple as he slept, while his other reached for the nightstand for his glasses.

Once on his face once more, he squints at the suddenness of the light from the window. The sun looked too high for it to be early morning and the fact that Ron’s bed was empty of his presence and even made, a feat most time he was reprimanded for not doing, meant that he had overslept.

“Blimey, Harry” he heard a voice comment from the doorway, etched in concern and a hint of judgment. He must look a mess with the way that Ron’s eyebrows were raised and the slight shock that crossed his face. To say that the sight weirded out Ron would dismiss the fact that this would not have been the first time Ron had seen Harry this way, which it wasn’t, but Ron also didn’t make it a habit to get used to it.

“What time is it?” Harry stammered as he composed himself.

“It’s well past eleven” blurted Ron “didn’t want to wake you cause I know you haven’t been sleeping well, but when both mum and Hermione said you had not come down even after me and Ginny had finished training, I got worried and came to make sure you hadn’t somehow died in your sleep”

“Well, I’m happy to tell you that I’m still alive” Harry felt sticky, both his shirt and pyjama pants were slicked to his form in a way that made his wiggle in place once he stood from his bed.

“And, sorry about training, I should have been there”

“Oh forget about it,” dismissed Ron “Don’t think I’ll improve enough for the tryouts anyways, with you or not training me”

“That’s not true,” Harry chided back “I’m sure there’s nothing that a little more training can’t fix” Harry felt Ron look away from him as a blush began creeping up his neck. Harry could tell there was more on his mind.

"Are you okay?”

"i'll make a fool of myself" Ron whimpered in exasperation "I won't make it, and even if I do, I don't think I could get either myself or the broom on the pitch in my first match”

He tried, he really did, to hide the laugh that threatened to escape his lips, but the image of the time when Fred and George had enchanted a Quaffle bounced off of his head, was too clear in his mind for him not to find amusement as it reenacted in his head. Ron, however, didn’t find any amusement whatsoever, even if his own face tried not to break into a sheepish grin.

“You’ll do great,” Harry said, smiling at Ron. “You always do.”

“Like hell, I will!" Ron cried out "I heard Cormac is going for Keeper as well. How can I compare to Cormac of all people? Have you seen him? The guy's the size of a wardrobe!”

“So?” Harry replied, raising an eyebrow as he leaned against the doorframe with a smile on his face. “Cormac is also a bit of a prat.” He said playfully.

"as long as he keeps the quaffle out of the rings, who cares about how much of a twat he is!”

“The team will care,” Harry sighed “You can’t have a keeper that can’t keep the team together,” At Ron’s raised eyebrows, he added. “I don’t mean physically. Besides, Cormac is a hot-head, you can’t expect him to be able to control his temper when playing against a team like Slytherin who won’t play nice”

Harry knew he wouldn't be able to convince Ron anytime soon. Anxiety coursed through his body, travelling along the vein connecting his foot to his brain. Moreover, Harry wasn't particularly concerned about persuading Ron; he understood Ron's strengths and where his weaknesses lay, and as long as he put in his best effort, he could prove to be a convincing beater. He would just need to calm himself for that to happen… an impossible feat for Ron to achieve.

He also had other things to worry about, like the dream he had just woken from.

Ron’s expression relaxed as he stood. "C'mon, you need a bath, mate,” he said with a cheeky smile, adding swiftly, "You stink,” which earned him a playful hit on the shoulder.

“You cheeky slit” murmured Harry “I'll meet you there in a bit,”. He shook his head. He needed a bath right now.

A cold one.

37 notes · View notes

grangvr · 7 months ago

Text

⟶ 𝔾ℝ𝔸ℕ𝔾𝕍ℝ 𝕀ℕ𝕋ℝ𝕆 ℙ𝕆𝕊𝕋 ⟵

𝔸𝔹𝕆𝕌𝕋 𝕄𝔼:

⤑ 𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙖, 𝘽𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙫 𝙙𝙯𝙚𝙯, 𝙃𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙤, 𝙈𝙮 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝘼𝙣𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙮𝙖

⤑ 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙖 22 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙤𝙧 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙈𝙖𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙙, 𝙎𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙣

⤑ 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙖 𝙎𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝-𝘼𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 🇪🇸🇦🇲

⤑ 𝙄 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙠 4 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙨: 𝙀𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝, 𝙎𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝, 𝘼𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙖𝙣 & 𝙍𝙪𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙖𝙣

⤑ 𝙎𝙝𝙚/𝙃𝙚𝙧 - 𝙃𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙘/𝘼𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙖𝙣 - 🇪🇸🇦🇲

⤑ 𝙄 𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙏𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙧 𝙞𝙣 2019 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢𝙨 𝙄 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙚 𝙄𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙢 (𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮)

⤑ 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙢𝙪𝙡𝙩𝙞-𝙛𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢 𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙖𝙛𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚

⤑ 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙋𝙃𝘿 𝙈𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙨

𝕄𝕐 𝔽𝔸ℕ𝔻𝕆𝕄𝕊:

♛𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙪𝙡𝙖 1 🏎️

♛𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙋𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧⚡️

♛𝙋𝙞𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙗𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙣🏴‍☠️

♛𝙆𝙥𝙤𝙥 (𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙠, 𝘽𝙖𝙗𝙮𝙈𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 & 𝙉𝙚𝙬𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙨)🖤💗🧌🐰

♛𝙀𝙪𝙧𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣🎶

♛𝙈𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙣🧙

♛𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨🚲

♛𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙤𝙣👗

♛𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙣𝙚𝙮 𝘾𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙨🐭

♛𝙔2𝙆 𝙉𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙜𝙞𝙖⚕️

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

𝕄𝕐 𝕀𝔻𝕆𝕃𝕊:

❦ ʳᵒˢᵉ́

❦ ʲᵉⁿⁿⁱᵉ

❦ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏᵖⁱⁿᵏ

❦ ˡᵃⁿᵃ ᵈᵉˡ ʳᵉʸ

❦ ᵇⁱˡˡⁱᵉ ᵉⁱˡⁱˢʰ

❦ ᵃʳⁱᵃⁿᵃ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᵉ

❦ ˡᵉʷⁱˢ ʰᵃᵐⁱˡᵗᵒⁿ

❦ ᶜʰᵃʳˡᵉˢ ˡᵉᶜˡᵉʳᶜ

❦ ᵇʳᵘⁿᵉᵗᵗᵉ

𝕄𝕐 𝕋𝕆ℙ 𝟙𝟝 𝔼𝕌ℝ𝕆𝕍𝕀𝕊𝕀𝕆ℕ 𝕊𝕆ℕ𝔾𝕊 (𝕊𝕀ℕℂ𝔼 𝟚𝟘𝟘𝟘):

☁️1. 𝙇𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙣 - 𝙀𝙪𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙖 (𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙙𝙚𝙣 2012)🇸🇪

☁️2. 𝘼𝙡𝙚𝙭𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙍𝙮𝙗𝙖𝙠 - 𝙁𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙮𝙏𝙖𝙡𝙚 (𝙉𝙤𝙧𝙬𝙖𝙮 2009)🇳🇴

☁️3. 𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙖 - 𝙈𝙤𝙟𝙖 𝙨̌𝙩𝙞𝙠𝙡𝙖 (𝘾𝙧𝙤𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙖 2006)🇭🇷

☁️4. 𝙄𝙣𝙜𝙖 & 𝘼𝙣𝙪𝙨𝙝 - 𝙅𝙖𝙣 𝙅𝙖𝙣 (𝘼𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙖 2009)🇦🇲

☁️5. 𝘿𝙪𝙣𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙇𝙖𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 - 𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙙𝙚 (𝙉𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 2019)🇳🇱

☁️6. 𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙖 𝙈𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙤 - 𝙇𝙖 𝙣𝙤𝙞𝙖 (𝙄𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙮 2024)🇮🇹

☁️7. 𝙎𝙞𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙤 - 𝙌𝙚𝙡𝙚 𝙌𝙚𝙡𝙚 (𝘼𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙖 2008)🇦🇲

☁️8. 𝙂𝙟𝙤𝙣'𝙨 𝙏𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 - 𝙍𝙚́𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙯‐𝙢𝙤𝙞 (𝙎𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙯𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙 2020)🇨🇭

☁️9. 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙡 - 𝙎𝙡𝙤𝙈𝙤 (𝙎𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙣 2022)🇪🇸

☁️10. 𝙃𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙚 - 𝘿𝙪̈𝙢 𝙏𝙚𝙠 𝙏𝙚𝙠 (𝙏𝙪̈𝙧𝙠𝙞𝙮𝙚 2009)🇹🇷

☁️11. 𝙂𝙤_𝙖 - 𝙎𝙝𝙪𝙢 (𝙐𝙠𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙚 2021)🇺🇦

☁️12. 𝙃𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙚 - 𝙇𝙤𝙘𝙤 𝙇𝙤𝙘𝙤 (𝙎𝙚𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙖 2021)🇷🇸

☁️13. 𝙄𝙫𝙚𝙩𝙖 𝙈𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙘𝙝𝙮𝙖𝙣 - 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙒𝙖𝙫𝙚 (𝘼𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙖 2016)🇦🇲

☁️14. 𝙎𝙡𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙚 - 𝙈𝙤𝙣 𝘼𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙧 (𝙁𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 2024)🇫🇷

☁️15. 𝙎𝙤𝙛𝙞 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙖 - 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙙 (𝘽𝙪𝙡𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙖 2012) 🇧🇬

𝕄𝕐 𝕊ℍ𝕀ℙ𝕊:

★𝙍𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙚 (𝙍𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙚)

ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕀 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕍𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕕:

❃𝙐𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙙𝙤𝙢

❃𝙁𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚

❃𝙋𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙜𝙖𝙡

❃𝙂𝙚𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙖

❃𝙎𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙆𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙖

❃𝙅𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙣

❃𝘽𝙚𝙡𝙜𝙞𝙪𝙢

❃𝙋𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙

❃𝙐𝙠𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙚

❃𝙈𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙤𝙫𝙖

❃𝘼𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙖

❃𝙄𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙮

❃𝘽𝙪𝙡𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙖

❃𝙑𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝘾𝙞𝙩𝙮

𝕄𝕐 𝕊𝕆ℂ𝕀𝔸𝕃𝕊:

✏𝙄𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙢: @/𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙭𝙝𝙥

✏𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙗𝙚: @/𝙈𝙖̊𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙀𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙨

𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜!

72 notes · View notes