nxrthmizu

[nxrthmizu]

Are you still into Miraculous Ladybug?

Hellooo! Not really :/ Haven't watched the episodes in a loooong time...

[nxrthmizu]

love characters who are like "this is how the world works. this is how it has to be (because if i'm wrong i have to face what i've done // if i'm wrong i have to face whats been done to me) "

[nxrthmizu]

hoping to get a callback... fingers crossed yall

[nxrthmizu]

[nxrthmizu]

dunno if any of u are still alive given I've been dead on tumblr for the past year or so but university has fried my brain so come see my nonsense at @mizumichu

[nxrthmizu]

snap culture is just sending a 1/8th picture of my blurred face, yes

[nxrthmizu]

I aspire to live by this and write every paper in my life ever, like this

writing discussion for a psych paper is like making conspiracy theories but u cite them occasionally

[nxrthmizu]

I have been watching one cat reel on repeat for five minutes and am still laughing

this is the peak of joy I seek to maintain

tomfoolery

[nxrthmizu]

Who makes the porn bots. Where do they come from. What do they hope to achieve.

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[nxrthmizu]

you can only reblog this today

[nxrthmizu]

What I’d give for one of the Cinderella remakes to go into how when you’re in an isolated and abusive situation, sometimes you need to be saved and you’re not weak if you can’t escape by yourself

I’ve never been a fan of bad faith reinterpretations of fairy tales, especially ones which flatten the originals into “princesses is saved by a prince and nothing else”, to then go #girlboss. The princess can save herself because she’s a strong female character! (Implying if you’re in a bad situation, it’s because you’re not strong enough to get out)

[nxrthmizu]

I hope death comes for me soon, as my body longs to reunite with the world it was part of. To once again be a patch of riverside moss; to be a dotted mushroom in a spring field; to be a sun-lit dust particle in the endless sky. I long to return home, into the wet soil of the rainforest, into the bottomless ocean, into the spanned dessert. I hope death comes for me soon.

[nxrthmizu]

When I was 17 my appendix ruptured because I thought I was just having period cramps and didn’t go to the hospital so don’t tell me PMS symptoms are no big deal

[nxrthmizu]

Badgers and coyotes hunt together. It's a thing. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service explains that “studies have shown that this unusual relationship is beneficial for both species. The coyote can chase down prey if it runs and the badger can dig after prey if it heads underground into its burrow systems.”

[nxrthmizu]

Fruit will last 3 weeks longer….

Why You Should Keep Fruit In Mason Jars Instead Of The Containers They Come In…….

When you get your fruit home from the grocery store, the first thing you should do is remove it from the plastic containers they’ve come in and recycle them. Next, clean out your sink and fill it with water (you could also use a large bowl). Then, toss in a few tablespoons of distilled vinegar. You’ll then want to submerge your fruit in the water and let it soak for about 10 to 15 minutes. The purpose of this is to get rid of any mold or bacteria on the fruit which is what causes them to go rotten more quickly.

Once the fruit has had a nice soak, remove it from the vinegar water, transfer to a strainer, and rinse with cool water. Leave the fruit out to dry on a tea towel or paper towel. Once dry, transfer the fruit to mason jars and seal up those lids. This is the best way to make your fruit last, particularly berries, which tend to be very prone to mold and bacteria buildup.

And that’s it! Incorporating these few extra steps into preparing and storing fruit can help you eliminate food waste, save money, and keep your fridge stocked with fresh produce for much longer.

[nxrthmizu]

[ kiss me under red skies. ]

A musician knows his instrument like an extension of his body, and Xiao knows the battlefield like an extension of his. All his life, he had found comfort in the polearm within his grip, he found purpose in the nameless, faint scars across his skin, and he found meaning in his duty. Destiny had written his life, aeons before he came into being, so who was he to defy the path carved out for him? 

He would meet his end on a battlefield. Surrounded by fallen flesh and blood, blood and red, red-painted skies, a torn sunset. Perhaps his weapon would lie, fallen as he had, a few metres away, in grass blades that sported the spoils of war. He would gaze into the stained sky above, and he would think that it was the ending he deserved, for all he owed to the world, for all he could never repay. 

Xiao would die, alone, in a field of fallen comrades and enemies, accompanied by nothing but a weak wind, the remnants of a fierce, raging storm that tore across the lands, minutes, hours, days ago. A flute sings, mournful, the harmless blade of music cutting across the air like the same tune that had saved him, years ago. 

A gentle hand caresses his cheek, and the wind kisses him, briefly, softly, lovingly. He doesn’t deserve such mercy, he thinks. He should’ve died on a snowy mountain, brittle cold piercing his skin like a rain of arrows, like water slamming into his body at the bottom of a waterfall. Or perhaps he should’ve died in a scorch, burning like all that had burned before him— yes, that would be proper karma— he would have to suffer for the lives that he gave suffering to. 

His lungs constrict, his ribs struggling like weakened soldiers on scarce rations. The soldiers’ legs tremble, and their shoulders shake from weight they cannot carry. They try anyway, they try, and they fail. His ribs sink, and he thinks death is near. 

He opens his eyes to see the blood-soaked sky once more, and he finds a headful of tousled strands, a weak gaze that rises, like a baby bunny beaten down before its very first breath. He finds the lips that serenaded him with the flute, he finds the body of his saviour, his lover. 

Xiao expected to die alone. 

“This is it,” Venti whispers to him, and his face is streaked with blood— blood of their enemies, and blood of his own. A brush, dipped in red paint, swipes a thumb across Venti’s cheek, and with a weak startle, the yaksha realises the stroke was drawn by his very own hand. “Xiao.” 

The wind carries his name with grace, uncaring of its meaning, and despite being moments from his end, Xiao feels the burden on his shoulder lift, brushed away by the same breeze that rustled the barren, wilted trees that surround them. 

With his very last breath, he catches Venti’s, and he catches the lips that serenaded him, the lips of his saviour, the lips of his lover. 

// twitter // ao3 //