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𝘕𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦. 𝘔𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘴. 𝘈𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵; 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘐𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯, 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘴. 𝘏𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯, 𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴--𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘚𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘌𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘥? 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯; 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴. 𝘈𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘍𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴, 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘚𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦. 𝘞𝘩𝘰, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦? 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺? 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯...𝘸𝘩𝘰...𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥? 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰, 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯.

𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴. 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘢, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘕𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳; 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦. 𝘈 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭, 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵, 𝘧𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮. 𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘴 𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺...𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘈𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘍𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘝𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘗𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺. 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺? 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥.
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˗ˏˋ ↷Art Credit: kanadekana
↷Artist profile: [ Ссылка ]
↷[ Ссылка ]
↷ Link to original post: [ Ссылка ]

↷ spotify playlist: [ Ссылка ]

✧ [ *song timestamps are listed in the pinned comment* ] ♡




══════⊹⊱ 𓆩 ❅ 𓆪 ⊰⊹══════
↷All audio & art is not mine! I claim no ownership of it. I am only responsible for the compilation of various songs & audios within this video. This is for entertainment purposes only and all credit goes to the rightful artists. "Copyright Disclaimer under Section 107: allowance is made for fair use for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, scholarship, and research. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use."

↳ tags ༉‧₊
#honkaistarrail #characterplaylist #honkai #hsr #SundayHSR

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