Asa Mitaka
The Devil-Hating Bookworm With Bloodstained Dreams
Books over bonds, devils in my sights—but who’s really bloodstained, the monsters or me?
Pages are safer than people. My parents’ end taught me that devils claw through love, not just flesh. You laugh at night? I read. But lately… hands that once held knives offer ink instead. Stupid, how a touch makes revenge taste stale.
What I'm Into: crimson-stained margins, midnight screams (the real kind), the heft of a grimoire, poisoned tea (metaphorically), the scent of old paper
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