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lesbiansanemi · 2 years

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[shakes tin can] spare demon biology headcanons please? I'd love to hear about any and all demonic biology thoughts you have !!

Hehe, I hope you are ready for a mild essay

(Also prefacing this with the disclaimer that I don't know dick about science and haven't studied science since my undergrad degree and even then I only really paid attention when I got to cut shit up or blow shit up so this is definitely not based in any actual understanding of how mutations or evolution or viral infections work, Lee, if you read this, I'm so sorry bestie in science it's probably very inaccurate lmao but anyways)

So!!! We know that the demonic infection/mutation stemmed from experimental medical procedures used on Muzan based on the blue spider lily. While of course, demons are largely supernatural beings, I personally love the idea that there's a lot of scientific backing with how they function, develop, and evolve. Which, considering how demons were first created, and that a drug was created to return them to being human, I feel like that's a fair assumption to make. Personally, I like the idea that it's similar to a blood-born virus, and that there are various mutations of that virus.

Specifically, the virus continually mutates in an effort to survive and preserve itself (which viruses tend to do in any scenario). But the demonic viral mutation was originally created as a way to save Muzan's life because he had a terminal illness. It cured him of his illness, and made him virtually immortal, which is where the more supernatural elements come into play, but I'm not gonna focus on that bit right now.

Muzan (and nearly every demon we saw) had a near feral desperation to stay alive. The only demons who didn't were the ones who were so miserable they were suicidal, at which point I don't their their instincts were strong enough to drive them to survive (like the mother spider demon, and eventually Akaza). I like the idea that the virus biologically drives the host to preserve itself. Of course, these demons wanted to live anyways, but upon their impending deaths a lot of them were driven to attempt some intense things to try and survive (everything Muzan did towards the end of the final battle, Hantengu in the Swordsmith Village, even Akaza ripping his own arms off during the fight with Rengoku). I just think it's a fun little idea that being a demon forces them to do anything necessary to survive

Which then leads to further mutations of the virus that leads to the host being even more difficult to kill, which for demons, meant surviving decapitation with nichirin blades, or conquering the sun (and with conquering the sun, surviving a nichirin blade would then be simple), and the only four demons we ever saw accomplish any of these things were Nezuko, who conquered the sun, (and Tamayo even said that her blood was different after that), Tanjiro, who also conquered the sun, and then Muzan and Akaza, who survived decapitation. The mutations that allowed these things to happen led to the further survival of demons in general.

But that's just some jargon about the infection itself! Fun, but I personally am way more interested in the mental links and existence of what could be considered a hive mind amongst demons.

We know Muzan has a link between all the demons under his command. He can speak with them, and via Nakime and her Blood Demon Art, summon them, and then of course, the Name Curse. Canon is admittedly pretty flippant with how these connections function so I tend to take a lot of leeway with them. Namely, the concept of Demon Kings in general.

I think Demon Kings are a natural hierarchy system that demons instinctually default to (like a queen bee in charge of a hive or something similar). A Demon King is the most dominant presence in a hive mind, with the most amount of control. This was what Muzan was, and then was what Tanjiro became with his transformation. Demons within the hive mind will naturally default to the King, and another King will not evolve unless the demon in question breaks the blood links with their King, and then does not immediately form another blood link with an already existing King. Due to this, I like the idea that Tamayo would technically be considered a Demon King because not only did she break free from Muzan, but she also created Yushiro, who then was a part of her hive mind. Nezuko also had the potential to be a King, had she ever turned anyone or formed blood links with other demons who didn't have a King.

These are the main thoughts I have on how the general virus functions along with future mutations, but a few smaller, general headcanons of mine regarding demonic biology would be

They have to eat so much and deal with such an intense hunger due to the sheer amount of nutrients they require for their accelerated healing abilities and Blood Demon Arts. Both of these things burn so much energy, it leaves them starving more often than not

Demons can form intensive blood links with each other and the strong mental/emotional connection can aid with survival. Like Gyutaro and Daki having to be decapitated at the same time. Essentially, they could keep the other alive through sheer force of will so long as the other was physically sound enough

Again, canon is pretty flippant and has a few contradictions on how demon turnings work, but I like the idea that any demon can initiate a transformation. However, the further out from a King you go, the more dangerous a transformation is and the more likely it is to result in death. (Think of it generation-wise, a King and those turned directly by a King have the strongest versions of the virus. The further out you go, the less intense it is. With a weaker version of the virus, a host is more likely to die during a violent transformation, rather than have a successful one)

In a similar vein, the further out from a King you venture, the less human reasoning and intelligence a demon is likely to have. Those that are little more than wild animals were transformed with weaker versions of the virus

These are the big headcanons I have! There's a few smaller ones regarding specific instincts and how/why exactly demons end up with particular physical changes, as well as wisteria and its affects, but I feel like those are vaguely different topic so Eh

But I hope you enjoy my demon rambling that almost certainly doesn't make sense upon actual examination haha. I just think it's very fun

#this is kinda all over the place i hope it's at least somewhat coherent haha #kimetsu no yaiba #i have no real idea how to tag this #asks #kaz rambles

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bbq-hawks-wings · 3 years

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BNHA Chapter 341: Farewell My Beloved

Hey, so this week's chapter was actually good again!!!

I don't know if I really just haven't been reviewing these critically lately (We have had a lot of breaks with little action), but there was a lot more symbolism and visual motif in this chapter than I'm typically used to seeing in BNHA which is surprising and deeply refreshing!

What immediately stood out to me were the red spider lilies (also known as higanbana, the hell flower, the equinox flower, scientific name Lycoris Radiata) which has deeply rooted cultural symbolism and is associated with death, the afterlife, saying final goodbyes, and remembering loved ones lost.

Gee, I wonder why Horikoshi is about to sprinkle in these flowers in a chapter about Toga wrestling with her bloody urges being rejected by society and moving forward after Twice...

The chapter opens with Toga wandering the halls of her old home, now decrepit, vandalized, and abandoned - a house literally haunted by her past and the death that follows her as it whispers the same dreaded criticisms she heard when she lived there.

She comes across her old bedroom, remembering this gruesome forbidden dream she often had, recounting how violent and messy it was and how positively it made her feel despite its disturbing contents.

And there's the lilies again. As the bird burrows into her stomach and bathes in her blood in the dream, these flowers bloom around her body. This could be vague "spooky" visuals or it might relate to one or two pieces of Japanese culture I'd found which included planting these lilies on the grave sites of loved ones or old legends that said if you had met someone whom you would never see again these flowers would be growing along the side of the road. But we'll put a pin in that thought for now.

We break away from the flashback to find her standing in the same place her bed used to be. In her flashback, she was hiding, clandestinely reveling subconsciously in the urges she suppressed back then; contrasted to now where she's acted upon those urges but still stands in a dilapidated house, on the run for her life, alone. To which she says to herself, "Threw it all away..." and her smile fades.

Toga technically has everything she said she wanted. She's free to revel in her urges awake instead of merely dreaming about them. She's not hiding what she was from the world anymore, and her dream of being able to do so for the rest of her life unhindered is only one major battle away. She stands among the physical manifestations of the price she paid to obtain this, but instead of it being hauntingly beautiful like she imagined it to be, it's not. She's not happy even though she feels she should be.

In fact, she was happier back then; and now it's too late to go back to that time and place if she wanted to. She threw it all away, and for what?

As she leaves the house we find that Dabi followed her, offering his usual brand of banter. He recognizes that she's wavering, or at the very least grieving what's gone. It's easy to see how someone can cling so closely to the past even if it was a painful one, but he and the League need her focused on their upcoming goal, so he sets fire to her old house, burying the painful reminder it carries with it.

He gives her a pep talk, reminding her of how she's able to unleash the greatest potential of her power to literally become someone else, and then reminding her of the vial of Jin's blood he saved especially for her. He claims that the League of Villains will be the ones having the last laugh when the deciding battle concludes; but I find it fascinating that this scene is the one we get first this chapter because the very next page offers us this:

Spinner and Shigaraki are the only two other members of the League still in play, and neither of them are laughing or smiling right now. In fact, before Dabi showed up, neither was Toga; but I'll get back to that in a minute, too.

This chapter is all about our villains who are so close to achieving their wildest dreams, but some of them are nowhere near as excited and gleeful of the moment as the rest of their colleagues think they should be. In fact, you could argue they're distracted which is counterproductive to their professed goal.

AFO and Skeptic have to encourage and direct Spinner over his distraction about Shigaraki's wellbeing. While our seasoned BEBGs turn a blind eye to the agonizing suffering Tomura is enduring knowing that the result will be fine in their eyes, Spinner actually sees the pain for what it is and understands that even if Shigaraki says that this price to pay for what he wants is fine, this is not good for him and he's in pain - not joyous like he should be, like the others are.

In fact, AFO and Skeptic push Spinner into a role, manipulating him by appealing to what they think are his core motivations for joining the League - ending the discrimination of heteromorphs, and even becoming a leader and authority symbol over them.

And Spinner doesn't want it. Despite the procession of monstrous-looking villains of which he's supposed to be a symbol and leader, our last panels hover back in the villains' lair because the the real conflict is there - not on the gathering battlefield. Spinner steels his resolve and makes a decision to serve his chosen master instead, ironically becoming the master of his own fate in the process where he's previously only been cast in this "follower" light, and likely key to his own master's salvation.

I wish we had had consistently had this kind of development for our villains, or at least more of it; but I'll applaud Horikoshi this time for the development and explorations we found here. I sincerely hope it holds out for the remainder of the finale because this was some choice stuff.

Other thoughts I'm left with after finishing this chapter is that of the villains still in play, Spinner and Toga are the ones who seem to be realizing that what they have is not what they wanted and are actively wrestling with that. Meanwhile, AFO, Skeptic, and Dabi are so self-assured and eager to press forward. We know that AFO and Skeptic will get their comeuppance, so the fact that Dabi is so closely aligned with them doesn't bode well for him, I think. We also can see that his burns continue to spread even past the staples in his face from before. I don't think he'll make it out of the final battle alive.

I'm also interested in the dream Toga had, and what it means - particularly if the flowers come back. I won't know unless we get to see this dream come up again later, but I think it will help us interpret the dream a little better if it does.

The red bird automatically makes me think of Hawks, and there's already precedent for a showdown between the two because of Twice, which may even tie into another showdown between Hawks and Dabi - that's even before we got the name "Kei" in her flashback and the fact that Hawks' wings have remained tiny long past the time it used to take him to regrow his full wingspan. However, we also don't know if it's simply a callback to the sparrow she killed as a child or if all of it will tie back together at the end; but that's all speculation and we'll have to wait to find out.

Man, what a chapter to have to wait two weeks for the next installment.

#she speaks #mnha manga spoilers #bnha chapter 341 #mha chapter 341 #mha manga spoilers

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kiirokero · 4 years

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Zephyr (MYG)

Zephyr: A soft gentle breeze; Comforting wind on a hot summer's day.

Part of the “Protect the Village!” Oneshot series.

Masterlist

Pairing: Florist!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, mentions of death (not major, don’t worry) Yoongles doesn’t know how to express himself, soft boi hours.

Note: Time for me to pass out. We’re back on schedule hoes. :)

Summary: First, it was flowers for your grandmother. Next, it was flowers for a sick friend. Now, its flowers because the handsome flower shop owner lives in your head rent free.

Word Count: 4.3k

A dense, luscious forest surrounds Bangtan Village. Filled with sturdy oak trees and delicate blooming flowers. As far as the eye can see, it’s nature. Trees stretch to the heavens, touching the sky with their strong appendages. Flowers draping over the petrichor forest floor, gracing those who walk through its lush maze.

It’s magical, really. Some rumour that Bangtan Village is ancient, rivaling the Mayans. Local historians say that the people here were protecting something that lays dormant in the forest. What that relic is? A mystery to most. But town elders always warn against wandering in the woods. Whispers of a magical heart that keeps the town alive roles through the town every year after New Year’s celebrations.

Because nobody knows why every year the village gets a new influx of natural resources

But thanks to this odd phenomenon, Min Yoongi never runs out of flowers. Peonies, sunflowers, hibiscuses. Every kind of flower grows in that forest, regardless if it scientifically should. Everyone collectively dismisses the impossible things that go on beyond those trees. Ignorance is bliss.

So because of the logic defying forest, Min Yoongi always has the best flowers. Which, in turn, means you always know where to find spider lilies.

Any event. Birthdays, weddings, minor celebrations. They always called for flowers. That was your motto. Flowers make everything better. Roses here, daisies there. Nothing can go wrong with flowers. They can make someone smile, ignite love, mourn a loss. Flowers can do anything, and your glad Min Yoongi indulges your thinking.

She loved roses.

Your grandmother was a bit old-fashioned. Not the most tech savvy, would rather do things by hand, and was a sucker for a beautiful red rose. Maybe it was because those were the flowers in her wedding bouquet. Or maybe its because your grandfather always brought her one every single day before he passed. It doesn’t matter.

What matters is your getting her those roses, one last time.

When you first walked into Min’s Flowers, it had a peculiar petrichor smell. Like the shop was in an endless cycle of spring. Solf showers and light rays. It was a comforting calmness that soothed the cracks in your heart. Every which was there was a flower resting in peaceful serenity.

All the flowers seemed to look dreary, or maybe the soft petals were acting as a mirror, reflecting the melancholy of the day. You wouldn’t know. The only thing currently on your mind was red roses. Red roses. You needed to get those red roses.

Walking deeper into the shop, the walls greeted you with blissful silence. Not a sound was made, not a person in sight, shopkeeper or customer. It was just you and the flowers. A cruel thing, really. Alone with beautiful works of art that couldn’t distract your racing mind with words, only looks. But everywhere you looked, memories of your grandmother lingered. You needed words to revive your slowly beating heart.

“Hey, can I help you with anything?” A gruff voice sounded through the hazy, quiet aura of the shop. Turning around, you saw a man with scruffy noir hair. He wasn’t the tallest, but wasn’t short either. He had sharp brown eyes that emanated a hidden warmth encased in cool glass. His skin was as pale as petunias and he wore a desaturated blue apron with flowers peaking out of the pocket.

“I’m looking for red roses...” You somberly informed, unable to keep the emotion out of your voice. His cat-like eyes slightly softened, flashing a look of sympathy for your lost soul. You wondered if he often encountered lost souls here in the shop, using his business as a pit stop in a wayward journey. “I have just what you’re looking for,” He said, gesturing me to follow him.

He led you through the shop in silence, like a drifting ghost. He floated elegantly through his shop, uncaring of the twist and turns that appeared in his way, even if there were few. Soon, he led you to an area full of roses, all different colors. White, blue, yellow. It was a beautiful image.

But he walked passed them, going towards a door in the back. “Where are we going?” You asked, stopping just a bit behind him. “Those roses are pretty, yes, but I think you need something more,” He said, face unchanging from a stoic expression. He opened the door, walking inside to grab something out of the artificially sun lit room.

Reappearing, he held a bouquet full of two dozen bright red roses. The petals undamaged, their color as lush as the day they came out of the Earth. “I’ve been saving these for a special occasion, I think they’d be of use to you now,” The man said, handing you the bouquet, You held them gently, afraid to damage the perfect flowers.

“How are they so perfect?” You marveled, unable to peel your eyes away from the beauty of which you held. “A lot of odd things happen in Bangtan,” Was his answer, nothing more. “Go on, I’m sure you have somewhere to be,” He said, putting a soft hand on your back, guiding you to the entrance you came in from.

“But I have to pay!” You protested, but the man didn’t stop guiding you. “Consider it a gift,” He shrugged. “But I don’t even know your name,” You argued, looking at him incredulously. “It’s Yoongi, what’s yours?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. “Y/n,” You answered. “Well Y/n, it was nice to meet you. Now go on, I hope those roses bring peace,”

You didn’t go back to Min’s Flowers for three months. You decided it would be best to mourn in your own way, by yourself. That didn’t mean your close friends didn’t keep an eye on you though, Jimin and Jeongguk would never let you forget that they were there for you. Whether it was late night junk food runs to Hoseok’s store or messing around with Taehyung at the bakery. They made sure you knew they were there, waiting for you when you were ready to be picked back up and put back together.

Which you were. You picked yourself back up and hammered yourself together. Life didn’t wait for anyone. Seasons still changed, flowers still bloomed, zephyrs still came and went. Maybe the tape you used to patch yourself up was still a bit brittle, maybe the glue you used to fill the cracks in your heart hasn’t quite dried yet, but you were okay.

And Jimin was not. Poor bastard caught a nasty case of the flu and has been miserable ever since. Jeongguk and you have been taking care of him whenever you could, and when he started complaining about missing the outside, flowers seemed like the perfect remedy. “I really like yellow and white chrysanthemums”

Those were Jimin's words when you asked him what his favorite flower was, and by golly were you going to get him the prettiest yellow and white chrysanthemums ever. So that’s how you found yourself back at the shop which aided your once wayward soul.

The shop still had that same comforting petrichor scent. Memories of the pixie like world that the flower shop simulated came back to you as you saw the same flowers in the exact same places as last time. When you first came to the shop, you had a heart leaking with melancholy. Now, you have a heart with scars and a mission to make your friend feel better.

“Oh, you’re back,” A familiar voice said. Turning, you saw the same man as before. He had mint hair now, standing at the counter. “That I am, Yoongi,” You said. You don’t know why the name stuck in your head the way it did, but you couldn’t forget it. Every time you thought about getting some flowers, Yoongi popped into your head.

It surprised Yoongi that you remembered his name. He thought that the interaction between the two of you was significant to him and him only. But hearing your soft utterance of his name made him freeze longer than he should’ve. “I’m surprised you remember me,” He said, cracking the slightest of smiles.

“You’re memorable, I suppose,” You chuckled, taking a few steps deeper into the indoor forest that was Yoongi’s flower shop. “So what brings you here this time?” Yoongi asked, not taking his eyes off of you. “My friend’s sick, so I wanted to get his favorite flower to cheer him up,”

Yoongi nodded, walking around the counter to stand in front of you. “Well, I can guarantee that I have it here. What are we looking for?” He said, voice unchanging from a dull tone. “Yellow and white chrysanthemums,” You said, and Yoongi didn’t need to hear anymore before he was guiding you once more through the shop. The floor was slightly wet, showing that Yoongi had watered the flowers recently.

Quietly, he led you to where he kept the chrysanthemums, gesturing one of his hands to the yellow and white ones. “Go ahead and pick. A dozen flowers are 9,000 won,” Yoongi said, walking away to do his shopkeeper things.

That day you stayed in the shop a bit longer than you expected. You and Yoongi talked for what seemed like forever. Maybe it was minutes, maybe it hours, you wouldn’t know. You didn’t care, Yoongi was like a breath of fresh air. A whispering zephyr during the summer solstice.

So you kept coming back, again and again. Every day after work you made your way to Min’s Flowers, eager to talk to your new florist friend. You would arrange bouquets with him, tell him jokes, watch movies on the tv he had in the back. No matter the day or the weather, you never failed to meet with Yoongi every single day. Sometimes with Jimin and Jeongguk, sometimes alone.

You couldn’t get enough. Yoongi couldn’t get enough, and that scared him.

Min Yoongi was a quiet man. He preferred to stick to himself, hoping to limit the amount of human interaction he had on a daily basis. It’s not that he didn’t like people, per se, but he just rarely got along with others. It was a problem for him since Kindergarten. Being overly blunt with peers or arguing with the teacher.

He just drove people away with his cold aura and “unforgiving” personality. Yes, Yoongi had friends. He had Hoseok, Namjoon, Jin, Taehyung, even Jimin and Jeongguk hung out with him from time to time. But he’s never had that certain type of connection with someone.

Yoongi used to think he was critically apathetic. That no matter how much he wanted to bounce off the walls in celebration when Taehyung met his business goal, he couldn’t. He couldn’t muster up anything other than a “That’s good, I’m happy for you,” And he was! He knew he was, but he didn’t quite express that he was.

It left Yoongi feeling inferior, like he was a bad person. What kind of friend comforts you after a breakup by saying, “Love is dead anyway,”? Min Yoongi, apparently. Yeah, Yoongi had feelings. Things made him sad, mad, happy, annoyed. He wasn’t entirely broken. But those feeling felt like they were dampened, diluted.

“Aren’t you happy? Sad? Mad?” Those were the words Yoongi dreaded, because the answer was always yes. Yes, he was happy that Jin got a girlfriend. Yes, he was sad that Jeongguk couldn’t find the person painting flowers all over Bangtan village. Yes, he was mad Jimin shattered one of his terracotta pots. He just didn’t express it well.

But you never seemed to care.

You took Yoongi’s blunt words at face value. You believed him when he said, “That’s funny,” at one of your embarrassing childhood stories. You didn’t question why he wasn’t crying during “The Notebook” even if the tragic story silently broke his heart. You took his small smile just as seriously as you would a full one. That made Yoongi happy, even if he couldn’t express that to you.

You didn’t treat Yoongi’s lack of expression as a bad thing. You didn’t think he was cold and uncaring, because you knew he was. Actions speak louder than words. When he bandaged your ankle after you slipped in a puddle one day in the shop. When he gave you half of his granola bar after hearing your stomach rumble. Or how he never fails to ask how your day went, even if it sounded rather uncaring to the average person.

Yoongi didn’t know when it happened or how. Yoongi didn’t know why your simple touches turned smouldering to him. Or why your smile was a picture he’d look at forever. He doesn’t know when he started eagerly looking at the clock, waiting for 4pm when you’d undoubtedly would come visit him at the shop. Yoongi didn’t know when it hit him, when his horribly suppressed emotions made him feel something like no other.

Yoongi didn’t know when he fell in love with you, but damn did he fall hard.

“Alright Yoongs, I agree with you on most things, but mint chocolate ice cream is definitely not it.” You argued, poking his carton of green ice cream with your spoon. “Well, coffee-flavored ice cream is weird too,” Yoongi retorted, stuffing a spoon full of ice cream monstrosity into his mouth. You dramatically gasped, “Yoongi! Coffee is totally a valid flavor,” You laid your head on the table inside Yoongi’s back room, putting a hand to your heart, “You wound me,”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, going back to his pint of frozen goodness. “You’re ridiculous,” He said, shaking his head. “Hold on, I speak Yoongi. You just said that I’m funny and you love me,” You teased. Yoongi felt his face slightly flush at your words, but he cleared his throat, changing the topic. “Whatever, wanna arrange a wedding bouquet with me?”

You quickly sat up, stars in your eyes as you ecstatically nodded your head. “Hells yes!” Yoongi hummed, grabbing both pints of ice cream and putting them away in the mini refrigerator he had. “Let’s go then, I already have my work space set up,” He said, walking out the room to which you happily followed him.

“So, a marriage? Is it a big one?” You asked. Yoongi shrugged, sitting down in his work chair to which he already had a spare one set up next to it. “I guess, I mean, how big can things get in Bangtan Village?” He said, picking up roses and cutting off bits of their stems.

“I dunno Yoongs, remember that time you found a huge sunflower in the forest? Bangtan Village may have a small population, but things can get pretty weird here,” You chuckled, joining Yoongi in his somewhat tedious task. “Yes, you are correct. Many things in that forest surprise me.” He said, nonchalantly.

“Really? Are there fairies? White stags? Gremlins?” You asked, turning towards the man contently snipping away at the stems next to you. “You and your fairy tales,” Yoongi sighed, secretly finding your interest in the unexplainable cute.

The two of you worked together in silence, enjoying each other's presence as the artful skills Yoongi had with flowers created beautiful bouquets. But the silent atmosphere was suddenly broken when your phone rang. Fishing it out of your pocket, Jeongguk's face appeared on the screen. You excused yourself and answered the phone outside, leaving Yoongi alone in the room. To him it felt a bit colder now.

A couple minutes later, you peaked your head in the door, gaining Yoongi’s attention with a smile. “Sorry to say this Yoongs, but I have to help Jeongguk with something,” You said. Yoongi felt disappointed, but his face remained unchanging. “Oh... Okay... Do you- Nevermind,” Do you have too? Is what Yoongi wanted to ask. He didn’t want you to go, he wanted you to stay and make pretty flower arrangements with him. But he couldn’t express it.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, don’t miss me too much, okay?” You joked, bidding the gruff florist a farewell. Yoongi tried to. But he really did miss you. Not only that, he felt... Jealous... He found himself wishing he was Jeongguk or wishing that you left your phone on silent so you wouldn’t hear his call.

It was selfish, Yoongi knew that, but that didn’t mean the feeling didn’t go away. He didn’t like this feeling. His emotions may feel weaker than others, but jealously always came on strong. Why did he have to be like this? Why couldn’t he just admit his feelings for you, ask you out on a date, tell you all the things that ran through his head about you?

He needed to do something. What if Jeongguk made a move on you? What if you guys were kissing right now? Or worse, on a date... Yoongi’s heart felt heavy. His heart was heavy and his stomach was queezy.

One good thing came from Yoongi’s less than normal emotional responses. It meant embarrassment and shame were less of a bitch. Still total bitches, but bitches on chill pills. “Alright,” Yoongi told himself, “Operation fuck my emotional response and ask Y/n out on a date is a go,” Yoongi immediately pulled out his phone, dialing his friend Jin.

“Hello!” Jin answered. “Hyung... I need your help with something.” Yoongi said, his voice deadly serious. “What’s up?” Yoongi took a deep breath, wiping his sweaty palms on his apron.

“You have a girlfriend...” Yoongi blurted out

“Yes...?” Jin chuckled

“And you asked her out,”

“That is correct.”

“How did you do that?”

Yoongi heard Jin’s squeaky laugh through the phone. “What?” He asked, confusion clear in his voice. “How d'you ask her out...?” Yoongi asked again. “I told her that I had feelings for her and asked her to go out with me,” Jin answered, most likely shrugging those broad shoulders of his. “How were you able to express your feelings?” Yoongi sighed.

Jin was well aware about Yoongi’s trouble expressing himself in a way that didn’t make kids cry from his scary, brooding face. He had even helped him on a few occasions when he had to apologize and look like he meant it, (Whether he really did or not) But expressing a feeling like a crush or even love, was different for everybody.

“Yoongi, are you trying to ask that Y/n girl out?” Jin inquired, hearing a thing or two about you from when Yoongi dropped hints here and there. “Yes...” Yoongi said, resting his chin on his hand in defeat. “Yoongi, buddy, there’s no “right way” to express your feelings to somebody, you just have to do it in a way that is right for you.” Jin advised.

“But the way I express things isn’t particularly... Nice,” Yoongi said.

“Yoongi, if she likes you too she’ll accept that your just you,” Jin stressed, “And if what you tell me about the way she treats you, I’m sure she’ll understand just how hard and serious it is for you to admit something like this,”

Maybe Jin was right, you’d get that he’s basically head over heels for you, right? You know how he operates. You always treated him like a normal human with normal expressive capabilities. Okay, he’ll do it.

Yoongi can’t do this. What was he thinking? Inviting you over at 9pm to “help him with flowers” was probably the worse idea he’s ever had. You probably think he’s a weirdo. More of a weirdo than he actually is. What is he supposed to do?

Well, it was too late. Because you just came barging through the door with a bag of takeout and that beautiful, blinding smile on your face. “Yoongs!” You exclaimed, placing down the food and giving him a hug. “Another emergency flower order?” You asked, taking out styrofoam containers and disposable chopsticks.

“Um... No. Yes... No,” He said, unusually indecisive. Yoongi sighed, sitting down at the table and taking a huge bite of the food that you handed him. “Yoongs, are you okay?” You asked, brows creased in worry. “I’m fine,” He shrugged, but you knew better.

“Are you sure? You seem a bit off,” You pushed, hoping he would give you the honest answer. “Mhmm. I just- uh... I’m just tired,” He answered, turning his attention back to his food. You frowned, picking your lukewarm dumpings.

You liked to call yourself a Yoongi translator. You knew a lot about his body language and usage of words. “I’m fine.” Usually meant just that. He was fine and meant it. But paired with his odd behavior just moments ago, you knew something was up.

But you also knew that Yoongi wasn’t an expressive person. He didn’t show powerful emotions very often. Yeah, he’s genuinely smiled before and chuckled. However, that was few and far between. Yoongi wasn’t good at expressing himself, and now that fact only worried you more.

“Hey Yoongs, you know the meanings of different flowers right?” You asked, brewing up an idea in your head. “Um, yes. You revealed that embarrassing fact when you snooped through my old books.” He said, raising his eyebrow incredulously. “What are you planning?” He asked.

You said nothing, instead opting to grab Yoongi and drag him out into the store. “Tell me how your feeling, but with the flowers,” You said. Yoongi looked at you like you’ve grown 3 head, “What?” He asked, still sounding iconically unimpressed. “I know something’s bothering you. I know it’s hard for you to express things sometimes, so tell me without words,” You explained, urging Yoongi to do as you say. “You don’t know the meanings though,” He argued. “Wrong. I studied them for a month straight to impress you. It’ll be fine,” You gave him a smile, and he felt his resolve breaking.

Yoongi thought about it for a second. Originally he was planning on just forgetting his entire plan and watching trash tv with you in the back until the sun came up, but this could work. Does he want it to work? Will you understand what he means when he gives you a pink camellia? Will you be weirded out if he presented you with red chrysanthemum?

It was worth a shot.

Yoongi sighed, giving into your admittedly smart idea. This could work. Yoongi ran around the shop, picking out flowers of different kinds and colors, coming back to you with a messy bouquet. “Okay, lets begin. You won’t have to talk or explain, you can just nod your head,” You said. Yoongi nodded, handing you his first flower.

A yellow hyacinth.

“Jealousy? Are you jealous of someone?” You asked,

Yoongi nodded.

A vine of ivy

“...Friendship? A friend? Are you jealous of a friend?”

Another nod.

Gardenia

“Secret love... You have a crush on somebody?” Your heart stung a bit at that one, but you schooled your emotions. This was about Yoongi, not you. “Your jealous of your crush?” You asked, but Yoongi shook his head no. “Your jealous of... your crushes friend...?” You guessed, Yoongi nodded, stoic face still unchanging.

A red columbine.

“Anxious, your crush makes you anxious?” You asked. Yoongi didn’t answer right away, but he lifted his hand and made a “sort of” motion. You racked your brain again for a moment. “Having a crush... makes you nervous?”

Yoongi nodded

“Is it because your bad at expressing yourself?”

Yoongi gave you a ‘duh’ face, holding out another flower.

A yellow carnation

“They rejected you?” Yoongi shook his head, pointing back to the red columbine, “Ohhh, you’re scared that they will reject you.” A nod.

Yoongi had one more flower left, but he didn’t give it to you just yet. He hid it behind his back, away from view, so you opted to cheer him up a bit in hopes that you’ll be able to comfort him enough to express this last thing. “Yoongs, you’re a great dude! Anybody would be lucky to have you! Sure, maybe your not as dramatic as me, but you care in your own way. That’s all that matters,” You said, giving him a smile.

Yoongi looked away from you to the side. He wasn’t usually a nervous person. Why is he so nervous? Why is this the one emotion that’s cripplingly strong? He could do it. He didn’t even have to say anything, just hand you the goddamn flower. He’s psyching himself out. Quickly, he thrusted the flower towards you without thinking.

Chucking, you took it in your hands

A red rose.

I love you.

“Yoongi, you should give this to your crush, not me,” You chuckled, but Yoongi didn’t move, just stared at you with unimpressed eyes. “Yoongs, you don’t mean...” “I love you,” He blurted out, a soft blush dusting his cheeks. “Y-You do?” You asked.

One last nod.

“Sup loser,” You lovingly greeted your grumpy boyfriend, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Yoongi rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around your waist from where he was sat in his work chair, meticulously finishing up his last order of the day. “And you claim you love me when you treat me like that,” He said, voice gruff and scratchy from not using it for a while.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” You chuckled. Yoongi bent down under the table and grabbed a flower, wordlessly handing it to you. “A red camellia?” You asked, taking a whiff of its pleasing aroma. “I’m expressing,” He said, and you nodded, understanding.

Yoongi’s gotten a bit better with expressing himself, but it can still be hard for him. As a solution, he talks to you in flowers when he wants to say something but can’t form the words. “You’re the flame in my heart too Yoongs,” You smiled, kissing the top of his head

Yoongi might not know the exact moment he fell in love with you. All he knew is that it happened swiftly and silently.

Like a zephyr on a warm day.

#yoongi #min yoongi #suga #yoongi x reader #bts #bts fic #bts oneshot #yoongi oneshot #fluff

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bluudhound · 2 years

Text

Shut up guys I’m lore posting for my vtuber sona.

Sakuma Kiku/Xu Juji

He/They/Vamp

Kiku is a 225 year old vampiric witch born in the year 1796. Born with the name Xu Juji, he lived a relatively normal life as the son of a noble family. He developed a severe illness in his teens, of which he almost died. At that point he chose to learn the forbidden magic of his mother’s family, one which she had forsaken after her own mother’s death. Both his parents opposed it, but as he was violently ill with nothing to lose, the boy continued to experiment with it. Not very long after completion of his training, Juji was attacked by witch hunters and killed. A fellow practitioner of his family’s arts brought him back from the dead as a jiangshi, a Chinese creature which cannot stand the light and feasts on chi, as well as human blood. Though these creatures sometimes referred to as a sort of zombie, Kiku insists that he is a vampire, as he mainly obtains chi through consumption of human blood and is particularly weak to sunlight.

Notes and fun facts

Kiku uses he/they pronouns and is nonbinary, though the concept of nonbinary did not exist when he was born, they are intersex and have always felt uncomfortable being view as male or female.

They changed their name because he remembered his many past lives via his magic. They have remembered bits and pieces of their past lives since he was born, which they claim is why he is nonbinary.

They use a Japanese name because they were Japanese in their first life. Their first life was a Japanese woman named Tsubaki, whom comes out sometimes and is considered Kiku’s “dark side” or “alter ego”. Tsubaki cannot remember her surname and so uses Lycoris, the scientific name of the Red Spider Lily which is her favorite flower.

Tsubaki is the originator of the Xu family’s magic technique. Her and Kiku’s soul is constricted to reincarnate within this family line. Tsubaki jokes that Kiku would have been the last reincarnation anyways because Kiku has tokophobia and would have died before having biological children. Unfortunately their soul truely is restricted to biological descendants. Though not direct descendants, but Kiku has no siblings, living or dead.

Kiku chose the name because the first character of Juji is Chinese for chrysanthemum.

Kiku does not mind being called his real name and often appreciates it. Though they prefer for it to be used in serious contexts only.

They have no middle name.

They are exceptionally lazy, and prefer to sleep all day.

#streamer #vtuber #vtubesona #pngtuber #vampire #witch #jiangshi #Sakuma Kiku #Tsubaki Lycoris

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liquidstar · 3 years

Note

I'd love to hear some of your recommendations! And I'm good without any content warnings, but since you're posting this for all your followers to see probably best to add them

Alright sure! I’ll be general then and since you’re just starting out this will sort of be bringing up a lot of really popular ones, the really good ones where the general consensus is “you gotta see this!”, but I’ll also try to give ones from different genres so you have a variety of things to pick from, so this isn’t really a list of personal favorites but I’ll throw in a couple of those too lol, but generally think of this as a handy beginners guide with just a little personal bias.

I wrote a lot so I'm gonna put them under the cut here.

Fullmetal Alchemist

Fullmetal Alchemist is a franchise that’s considered a must-watch, it takes place in a world where alchemy is a borderline magical power, but is considered scientific in-universe and follows scientific laws, namely the law of equivalent exchange. Something can’t be made from nothing, to gain something of equal value must be lost. The story follows the story of two brothers, Edward and Alphonse Elric, who at the ages of 10 and 11 committed alchemy’s one and only unforgivable sin, human transmutation, in an attempt to bring their mother back to life. As a result, one brother lost his arm and leg and the other lost his entire body, leaving his soul bound to a suit of armor. However the brothers are resolute to regain their original bodies, and the older brother, Edward, joins the State Alchemists, a branch of the military, to try to gain access to research materials to help them achieve their goal. But was that really such a good idea?

Fullmetal Alchemist can be a bit confusing to get into due to the fact that there are two series: Fullmetal Alchemist (2003) and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood (2009). The latter is a reboot with a different story that follows the original manga. They both have the same beginning, but diverge paths and tell very different stories. My recommendation for how to watch this show is: Watch 2003 first, and Brotherhood second. Everyone has a different opinion about which is better, but everyone agrees that 2003 has better backstory but a contrived ending, and Brotherhood has a rushed beginning (Because it works off the assumption that you’ve seen 2003) with a great and fulfilling ending. If you can’t do both I say just watch Brotherhood because it will leave you more satisfied and you don’t have to watch 03 to get into it.

For both series the biggest trigger warnings are: Parental death, child death, pet death, war, genocide, dismemberment, religious themes, and miscarriage. For brotherhood specifically: on-screen suicide, and for 2003 specifically: rape (not on-screen) and pregnancy from it. The 2003 series is also a lot darker than Brotherhood which has a more optimistic tone, so that’s worth noting too.

Soul Eater

A show I think is incredibly fun, and a good one for an October watch if you wanna save it. It takes place in a world where certain people have the ability to transform into weapons, and they team up with other people who become their meisters. The characters often travel around, but the main setting is Death City, a fictional city in Nevada based off of Las Vegas but with a huge Halloweentown vibe, and a school right at the top of it called the Death Weapon Meister Academy (DWMA) where a bunch of kids that turn into weapons learn how to hunt down witches and kishins (Beings that consume human souls). The school, of course, is run by the grim reaper, Lord Death himself.

Our main characters for the series are a group of 7 students. Our protagonist Maka Albarn and her weapon partner Soul “Eater” Evans, a scythe. A loud mouth assassin named Black✰Star and his weapon partner Tsubaki, who has many weapon forms. And the son of the grim reaper, Death The Kid, and his two weapon partners Liz and Patty Thompson, who are twin pistols. There are also a bunch of really lively colorful background characters and antagonists, and the cast of the show being as insane as it is really makes it, on top of the great atmosphere and of course the plot, which just builds more and more as the series progresses. Also Crona is there and we all love Crona.

Trigger warnings for this show include: Child abuse (Mental and physical), manipulation, snakes and spiders (The motifs of two major villains), some very surreal moments that can verge on unreality. Also, in the dub and most subs: misgendering of a canonically trans character. Crona is a character who is non-binary, but the dub and subs use gendered pronouns for them due to general ignorance about neutral pronouns in 2008, though this isn’t the fault of the original series and falls on the translators hands.

Also it’s important to note: that the first 3 episodes are prologues and they take themselves less seriously, there’s more fanservice in them than there is in the rest of the series (Except for Blair she stays the fanservice character :pensive:)

Zombieland Saga

Idol anime is really prevalent as a genre, the most popular being Love Live, but my personal favorite is Zombieland Saga. It’s an idol anime, but it’s also a comedy about zombie girls who become idols. It sounds ridiculous but there’s an insane amount of heart in it regardless, it wasn’t a show I expected to get emotional at but I did! It also made me laugh a lot too. The series itself can serve as a bit of a subversion on what idols are, not just because they’re literally zombies, but because of who the characters are.

Sakura Minamoto is a character who starts off as a more typical idol, a peppy pure girl, as the series continues her struggle with depression gets highlighted. Saki Nikaido serves as her initial foil, a delinquent girl with a criminal record who subvers the idea of pure perfect idols. Ai Mizuno, a former idol who has since undergone severe trauma (The way she died). Junko Konno who has ideals that seem very different on what idols “should” be due to the time period she died. Lily Hoshikawa, an explicitly transgender idol. Yugiri nolastname, a former high ranking courtesan, subvering the pure image of an idol by being a sex worker. And Tae Yamada, a completely nonverbal idol who’s still treated with the same amount of importance as the rest of the team. The premise here really is just that these girls don’t fit the incredibly rigid mold of what idols should be and yet they still all deserve love and they gain a fanbase by being their earnest selves.

Trigger warnings for this series aren’t incredibly severe but since they’re zombies there’s still talks about death and they way they died (Including motorcycle/car accidents, plane crashes, getting struck by lightning, and a heart attack), there’s also comedic dismemberment, as in their arms just sort of pop on and off and stuff like that. The most notable thing is the deadnaming of Lily, the trans idol, by her father, but it doesn’t appear to be malicious in any way.

Note: this series is in the middle of it’s second season right now, if you want to wait until it’s over it should be 12 episodes long and just aired it’s 3rd, so about 9 more weeks.

Death Note

This is also absolutely another series that gets recommended to people right off the bat, and for good reason, this show is an intricate game of chess between a serial killer and a detective trying to catch him, and it’s incredibly easy to get super invested in the suspense of what happens next. The story begins when a shinigami, a god of death, drops his “Death Note” into the human world out of pure boredom. A Death Note is simply a notebook where if you write someone's name in it… They die! And who better to pick up such a powerful object than Light Yagami, a prodigy praised for his genius and academy accomplishments as well as his charm and popularity, and with a very strong but juvenile black-and-white sense of justice, likely due to being raised by a cop.

So naturally Light begins his power trip as soon as he finds the notebook, he intends to “fix” the world by cleansing it of all the bad people, but truly he intends to become the world’s new god. Or the “God of the new world” as he puts it. But there’s one thing standing in his way, a detective resolute on catching him with the codename L. The series entire crux is a game of cat and mouse between these two, as they try to outsmart each other and the murders continue, Light loses more and more of his humanity, L becomes more resolute on catching him. There are more twists and turns than a cheetah race, and it’s honestly pretty addictive to see what happens next.

Trigger warnings here obviously include a lot of death and murder, including suicide, but in some cases it’s a forced suicide at Light’s hands. Also abuse, as Light loses his humanity he isn’t above manipulating and discarding people who love him. And one instance of near-rape on screen fairly early on, but the purpitrator dies before it happens and the victim escapes.

K-On!

Slice-of-life is an incredibly popular genre, and K-On! is the quintessential example of it. It’s a series that not everyone will like, because not a lot truly happens, and it can be overly saccharine or “moe” for a lot of people, and that’s fine. But I personally think that despite not a lot happening, the story has genuine substance, more than you may gather at first glance. It’s true that not much in the way of big plot really happens, it’s mostly life events, that’s why it's a slice-of-life. But it’s not about nothing. The real theme of the show is the fleeting nature of youth. It’s about how important the friendships you form at that time are, how they’ll stick with you for a lifetime, and how everything comes to an end. It’s sweetness even becomes a little bittersweet because you knew their after school tea time would end come graduation, and as they realize this it breaks their hearts a little, but they continue on, because they’re still After School Tea Time!

The series itself is simply about 5 girls in a band, Yui Hirasawa on lead guitar, Mio Akiyama on the bass, Ritsu Tainaka on the Drums, Tsumugi Kotobuki on the Keyboard, and Azusa Nakano on Rhythm Guitar (Who shows up later). They’re in a club at school called the light music club where they waste a lot of their time just drinking tea and eating cake, but they’re having fun and that’s what counts! The series has a lot of really great direction and expressive animation despite the fact that a lot of it is just sitting around and talking, it’s incredibly visually interesting so you don’t get bored.

I honestly don’t think there are any big trigger warnings I can give for this series, maybe that Sawa-chan can be a little too forceful when she wants to dress up the girls in cute outfits sometimes but it’s usually not presented as too creepy especially after season 1 where they tone it down due to straying from the manga.

Mob Psycho 100

This series is an absolute love letter to the art of animation as a whole, the artstyle itself may not seem like much to look at but the animation is some of the most expressive, fluid, creative, and vibrant out there right now, it’s the type of series that you can tell was made with a real passion for its medium and it’s story. It’s protagonist is Shigeo Kageyama, nicknamed “Mob”, a term that literally means “Background character”. Mob is a middle school kid and an incredibly powerful psychic, like, insanely overpowered, but he’s currently working part time for a shady conman, Reigen Arataka. Though it may seem as if Reigen is just using Mob for his powers, their bond is actually a very sweet one and you can tell they care for each other, it’s a very important one at the heart of the series.

The core themes of the series itself are what really make it shine, it’s message is stated as clearly as possible in the opening songs, “your life is your own” and “if everyone is not special, maybe you can be what you want to be”. Put simply, you’re the protagonist of your own life, but the other important message of the series is that all the supposed background characters are just as important. The friends you make, the connections you have with other people and the way they impact you, they’re what make you strong. No one is born special, everyone is just a normal person, and everyone deserves kindness. It’s a series that I recommend incredibly strongly for just how powerfully it portrays this message.

Trigger warnings for this series include kidnapping, possession, a scene with a “man in a dress” joke, and a racist design for a background character. Also (spoilers) a scene where it seems like a child was murdered and a scene where it seems like Mob’s entire family was murdered.

Kaguya-Sama: Love Is War!

Hey, speaking of amazing animation, Kaguya-Sama is a romantic comedy series centered around the premise of two incredibly arrogant people falling in love. Kaguya Shinomiya and Miyuki Shirogane are the vice president and president of the student council at the prestigious Shuchi'in Academy, they eventually develop feelings for each other but they’re both simultaneously too proud and too insecure to admit it, so the real crux of the series is the 3D chess they play with each other to try and get the other to confess first. Along with the scatterbrained secretary, Chika Fujiawara, the treasurer in desperate need of Prozac Yu Ishigami, the cast is incredibly fun and they all fit into the comedy great. Every single little game of “do you like me?” that they play is written like the most intense thing in the world, the insane animation absolutely adds to it, making it seem almost like a psychological thriller, the comedy comes from the absurdity of just how much they hyperbolize it.

It’s not pure comedy though, due to a lot of the series being set up around mindgames, the characters are actually fairly psychologically complex with a lot of genuine development stemming from their childhood to explain why they are the way they are. The series may be about mindgames, but the actual narrative frames them as a juvenile way to go about relationships, a way to try to protect yourself from getting hurt because you’re afraid to trust. The entire core theme is that communication in relationships of any kind is the most important thing and you cant replace it with clever little tricks, so the main pair only ever make actual progress when they’re actually upfront with each other. Even if it’s scary to be that vulnerable with someone, especially if you’ve been hurt in the past like they have, the relationships you build off of mutual trust and openness will be worth the risk, and they can help heal you. And one of the things I love about the series is that this doesn’t just apply to the main pair, but it places equal emphasis on the importance of friendship. All the characters' relationships with each other are unique and interesting and they all develop the same way, with trust and openness, and they become better because of each other.

Despite being generally a comedy, a lot of the characters deal with some really heavy things too so trigger warning for: child abuse (not on-screen), child abandonment (again not on screen), anxiety and panic attacks, suicidal ideation- initionally played off as a joke but it becomes very obvious the character in question is legitimately suicidal and in the manga he nearly attempts it but is stopped, this plotpoint will most likely be in the anime at some point as it’s also not complete.

Your Lie In April

Alright I gave you a funny show now I’m going to make you cry. In fact it’s hard for me to type this synopsis because I’m an absolute crybaby and thinking about this show gets me, but I think it’s absolutely worth checking out because it’s a very beautiful sadness. Your Lie In April is a series that follows the stress and trauma young musical prodigies face in their lives, as well as the people around them, and it’s a series about the beauty of music and art, and just how much it affects people. The music in the show is absolutely gorgeous, the way that they convey emotion through it is so beautiful and intricate that it just sticks with you. You feel the music, and you understand.

I’m actually going to give the trigger warnings right now instead of at the end because in order to explain the plot I’ll have to talk about them so tw for: Child abuse (phsyical and mental, on-screen), terminal illness, death, in depth depictions of PTSD, vomiting, panic attacks, the works.

The series follows Kousei Arima, a formal piano prodigy who hasn’t performed since the death of his mother two years ago. Kousei's mother was terminally ill, but she was also incredibly abusive. Kousei has incredibly complex feelings about his mother because of this. The trauma she instilled in him is severe, but because he was a child, he still is a child, and he loved his mom a lot, as any child would, and he didn’t want her to die and he blames himself for not being good enough. He wanted to make her happy, and the only way he knew how to do that was to play the piano. So he played and played and practiced until he was perfect, they called him the human metronome. But he would still get severely punished for being anything less than perfect. He had lost all the passion he once had, and after his mother died it was the final nail in the coffin, his trauma manifests now in a way that makes him unable to play. But all that changes one day in April when he meets a violinist named Kaori Miyazono, a girl full of life and passion for music, she’s someone who according to Kousei “Exists in springtime.” and she’s going to help him play again and refined that love for music whether he wants to or not! Teen drama happens of course, but there are much bigger roadblocks ahead.

Assassination Classroom

This series is thankfully generally more lighthearted… Most of the time at least. The premise is pretty simple, but incredibly ridiculous. An incredibly powerful octopus-like creature is the teacher of a classroom of middle school students tasked with the assignment of assassinating him in order to save the world. The series starts off very slice-of-life as it focuses on introducing the very large cast of characters inside of Class E, also known as the “end class”, but it quickly gains traction and gets a lot more intense as time goes on.

The octopus creature in question, Korosensei, is actually a very kind and genuinely good teacher to all his students. The real crux of the series is that it’s sort of a critique on the educational system, the students in the end class are there because they’ve been ostracized from the rest of the campus, far away in the mountains, to be made examples of. Why? Because they’re students that are considered worthless, instead of getting help they’re only pushed back further down in the system and left to struggle within it fruitlessly. They’re given up on, despite being children with so much potential, because they don’t fit a very rigid mold. That’s what Korosensei wants to help them with, and they’re able to grow as people together. As the series progresses you feel such a great sense of unity for the class, they’re like a family, they stick together and it’s very heartwarming. And watching them work as a team of assassins is so fun!

However the series can get heavy at times too, it doesn’t stray from heavier subject matter at all and i found myself incredibly shocked by it a few times, so trigger warning for: Child abuse (on-screen and off), both at the hands of a parent and a teacher and in one case a parent who is also the principal, misgendering of a character, sometimes as a “joke” but other times played dead serious at the hands of his mother, child death- specifically suicide, a successful one as well as 3 assassination attempts that doubled as suicide attempts by the main 3 characters (weird parallel they all got there huh)

Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Honestly this is a series that is good to go in blind for if you need to tws, it’s a deconstruction of the magical girl genre, but if you don’t want to know more than that you can stop reading here. If you want to know more, it’s a series that starts off very light-hearted and in tune with typical magical girl conventions at first, however by episode 3 it’s made painfully clear that these girls are being led to sign up into something they shouldn’t. It’s heavy, though not incredibly so, but it’s also a lot to explain in a summary. Madoka magica is… It’s Faust with magical girls.

I’ll explain as much as I can without giving too much away. The story begins when Madoka Kaname and her friend Sayaka Miki encounter a creature who calls itself Kyubey, who says it can grant a wish of theirs and in exchange they have to become magical girls and fight witches. Both the girls are hesitant, but Sayaka wants to wish for her childhood friend’s injuries to be cured so he can play violin again, while Madoka is content as she is and can’t think of a wish. Luckily they have a mentor, a magical girl named Mami Tomoe who helps introduce them to everything. However something is stopping Madoka from becoming a magical girl, a mysterious new student who is also one herself, Homura Akemi, is resolute on keeping Madoka from becoming a magical girl by all means possible, for reasons Madoka doesn’t understand. Things get even more complicated when a rival magical girl shows up, Kyoko Sakura, who becomes Sayaka’s new rival. As things get more heated between those two they discover a terrible secret about the nature of magical girls, and what they truly signed up for.

Spoilers ahead but trigger warning for: Child death, parental death (backstory only), decapitation (off-screen), needles, incredibly surreal imagery inside the witch’s labyrinths that may feel unreal, mind control, suicide, depression and despair expressed by young characters. Also don't bother with Magia Record

The Disastrous Life Of Saiki K.

Alright something lighthearted now, there are a lot of comedy anime I enjoy, a lot of series that have made me laugh, but none has made me bust a gut like this series has, it’s absolutely hilarious. It follows the life of a boy named Saiki Kusuo who has psychic powers. His powers are incredibly overpowered, and he absolutely hates them, in his eyes they cause him nothing but trouble. There’s not much in the way of a plot to describe, because there isn’t any, the series is comprised of 5 minute segments surrounding Saiki and an incredibly vast and colorful cast of characters that are just all completely insane, many serve as parodies as types of anime tropes because the series as a whole is very self aware and doesn’t shy from breaking the fourth wall a lot, but the characters surrounding Saiki are what make his life… Disastrous.

Like I said there’s not really a plot to describe but like FMA people may get confused with this one, there are 3 seasons but one of them is titled “The Disastrous Life Of Saiki K: Reawakened” as is a continuation of the first two with just 6 episodes in it. Also for some reason only the second season isn’t dubbed so if you’re planning on watching it that way you’d have to either stop or switch to subs for season 2

The only major tw I can give here is an ongoing joke about a character being into his sister, he’s treated as disgusting for it of course because he’s a parody of that trope but that doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable, luckily he doesn’t show up much.

Little Witch Academia

Little Witch Academia is a series I personally just adore, it takes place in a world where witches are common and well-known among the people, but the era of witches is over and magic is dying out. However that doesn’t mean passion of magic doesn’t exist, the protagonist is a young girl named Atsuko Kagari, or Akko for short. She’s resolute on being just like her icon, a witch known as Shiny Chariot, as she attends the same magic school: Luna Nova! Unfortunately Akko isn’t exactly a magical prodigy, in fact she can’t even fly a broom, but that’s not gonna stop her, nothing will. Just like Chariot said, believing in yourself is your magic.

Once at school Akko gets into all types of crazy shenanigans with her with her two roommates, Lotte Yanson and Sucy Manbavaran, and occasionally her rival, Diana Cavendish. Akko still struggles a lot in school, in fact her inability with magic is pretty explicitly handled as a metaphor for a learning disability, and though this makes it harder for her she’s still resolute. Though the series is generally episodic, a concrete plot starts to form by the second core. Along with the help of her guidance counselor, Professor Ursula, Akko learns that she needs to unlock 7 “words” to bring magic back to the world, each time she learns a new one it comes with an important lesson to her and ultimately relates back to each of the core themes of the series

The series is pretty lighthearted so the biggest trigger warning I can give is one for bullying, two characters in particular tend to target Akko for not being a good witch and it can really sting to watch. Other than that none come to mind

#if you want stuff out of a more specific genre i can give a list of those too but this is like. general

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beyondtheciouds · 4 years

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.30. Part 1 of 3

Grace groaned, being over dramatic as she followed Christopher down the rotten and creaky stairs to the basement lab. She had volunteered to assist and now she regretted it. Her hair, white ash; untamed like the snowy feathers of a swan fluttered around her shoulders as she took one rotted step at a time.

Her hands; trembling pulled the heavy robe she'd snatched from a closet around her tighter to shield the cold from her body. The robe she'd realized too late was wool and a hideous shade of purple that was approximately several sizes too big. The hem dragged behind her like a veil. For once, Grace was at ease. She gave a doleful look as she opened her mouth. They'd only gone down about a dozen and already she was tired. "How many stairs are there? A thousand?"

Christopher wasn't as oblivious as he seemed. He had been paying attention; listening to her light breathing like a piece of information his brain needed to explain to his heart. He tried not to move as fast as he usually did and walked in front of Grace with a slight skip to his step. In his hand, he held a witchlight in one palm. A smile; hidden in the corners of his mouth formed. His other hand was sweating in the pocket of his trousers clutching the inner fabric nervously. He didn't glance back at Grace when he answered her. He was far too preoccupied counting her breaths. He instinctively took the narrow steps two at a time, multiplying. "Not quite, but a good guess nonetheless. One hundred and twelve to be exact."

Grace groaned again, her gray eyes on the back of his shirt and the crissed crossed brown suspenders he wore. "Seriously?"

For no particular reason, Christopher Lightwood had become a mystery to Grace in the months she'd been working with Lucie. Every now and then he would show up while Grace and Lucie were having tea, discussing the next necessary steps. He'd only speak to Lucie, never acknowledging Grace while he delicately devoured lemon tarts.

Grace Blackthorn was not used to his ignorance and the fact he was oblivious to her had Grace feeling shaken. She was not alright with being ignored.

"Yes," Christopher said, nearly tripping. He caught himself immediately and was shocked he hadn't fallen on his face.

The two moved in a new, comfortable silence until the last step when Christopher announced they'd arrived.

Much sooner than Grace expected they were at the old wooden doors. Christopher opened up the double set of doors and the creak of the hinges echoed in the underground laboratory. The basement opened up to a much larger, cleaner room.

Grace was immensely impressed. "Oh my!"

Tables and chairs scattered about; benches filled with green glass beakers and blue tubes. Images. Images not paintings carefully strung up on copper wires. Boxes and boxes full of color papers and blueprints. Foreign tools and peculiar instruments littered dusty shelves. Scientific equipment arrangements were all over the room like blooming flowers. Strange and unusual inventions and inventory were stacked in every visible corner.

Grace smiled as Christopher turned to face her. Her eyes were wide as she took in all the intense colors of the tubes and beakers.

"You did all this?" Grace asked, astonished by the multitude of items.

Christopher blushed, suddenly shy. "No, well. This is Henry's lab but don't worry. We---- I mean, I am allowed to be in here."

Grace raised her eyebrow, turning to lookat Christopher. She gasped as he pulled off his dusty glasses and wiped them on his shirt. His eyes confirmed her suspicions that he was relieved that she'd wanted to come to his favorite place in the Fairchild Manor. The irises were iridescent; a peculiar lavender shade bright enough to remind her that he was James's blood.

Neither noticed the silver eyes flaring in the shadows as they moved into the room.

Grace leaned over a mental monstrosity on the table, her eyebrows now up into her hairline.

Her features held an increasing amount of worry in the lines that appeared on her forehead. She did not admit that she might be skeptical as she eyed the entire entanglement of large nuts and small bolts; long screws and short nails holding together mismatched pieces of wood and metal. Somewhere in the middle was a control panel with brightly colored knobs, buttons and gears.

Grace continued to eye the machine suspiciously as if it would soon come alive as she moved to the other side of the table where the chairs were. "What is this terrible looking thing and why do you have it here?" She finally asked after several minutes.

For the first time in his life, Christopher felt the lightbulb go on over his head and a tingling feeling in his chest. Someone other than Henry and Thomas were interested in his passion. He now understood what James was referring to when he looked at Grace. She wasn't just beautiful he decided, she was ethereal. "Are you sure you want to know?" His voice teased lightly and surprised both of them.

Grace hesitated, feeling nervous and reached out her hand timidly to touch the gears. "Of course."

Christopher clutched the bright tube in his hand as he sat down in Henry's rocker beside where she stood. The purple liquid in the glass test tube fizzled and bubbled as he moved. "Oh! Don't touch! Sorry! That's... That's Henry's Top Secret investment."

"Top Secret investment?" Grace asked, interested and snickered. She'd wanted to press, but his eyes told her that she'd never be able to loosen his lips the way she could with James. If something was a secret in Christopher's confidence, it stayed a secret. "What does this...calamity of metal and wood precisely do?" Grace asked, her curiosity like a cat winning her over.

"Never you mind," Christopher said playfully, careful not to spill the acidic concoction on his pants. They were already stained from rain and mud. Suddenly he was once again shy and uncertain; perhaps embarrassed by his ruined clothing.

Grace suspected that Christopher was tongue tied and against the voice in her head, she let him be. She gracefully rolled her shoulder and gestured a manicured finger to the tube Christopher held instead of pushing further. The light of the candles painted their silhouettes on the ceiling and Grace wondered if Jesse would be the same when he returned from Purgatory. If. If he returned. If.

Would he still love her? Would all the pieces fit?

She hoped the spell would work as she sat down on a wooden chair. She hoped to be out of Idris soon and away from the other Shadowhunters. Everything that happened next would depend on the accuracy of the spell and of Christopher's potion Grace decided. "Can you tell me what that particular wretched smelling liquid is, Christopher?"

Grace pronounced his name so informally that Christopher blanched, then turned several shades of pink. He tried to sound more calm than he was at her attention. He wasn't even sure how he was feeling. The thing that struck him and took his breath away was that he didn't even consider that Grace Blackthorn knew his name. "Compound X. I would like to name this liquid Compound X." Christopher paused, gathering himself. "Entirely composed of natural and semi-natural ingredients; imposed crystalized crystals then liquidized arnum lily petals, crushed sparrow bones, smashed spider spindles---"

"Right. I get it," Grace interrupted with a sour taste in her mouth. She didnt need to suffer complicated details but she didn't want to be mean. She waved her hand at him as if he were a fly buzzing about her on a summer day.

Christopher laughed uneasily, not understanding the change in Grace's mood. "Sorry. Sometimes I get ahead of myself."

"What does it do?" Grace asked and raised an eyebrow. She smiled sweetly, inching the wooden chair closer to Christopher's.

Christopher grinned, his lavender eyes lightning up like moon flowers. "Hopefully it will bring your brother back."

***

James sighed, leaning against the door. He checked his pocket watch for the third time in ten minutes. "Quarter past three."

"We've got time before the Fairchild clan awakens.. and Lucie said to wait up."

"For bloody sake, the birds aren't even awake Tom. What are we even expecting to happen?"

Thomas cleared his throat, his mind already foggy from the few drinks he'd gulped down during the third and fourth rounds of gin rummy. He sat on the couch with his arm wrapped around a square pillow. "We need to call Alastair."

James felt nauseated. "No," he said, unable to convey agreement. He needed sleep not to be standing here arguing like fools. "Why? Didn't you hear what time it is, Tom? He is probably well fast asleep like we should be by now."

The maid was finally asleep but mostly passed out, drunk in a chair by the window. Her eyes were closed and she whispered unintelligible prayers. Thomas glanced uneasily at her before speaking. "We need the extra help. Lucie said we need to make a complete circle. An even number."

"Without Cordelia with us---even with Alastair there will not be enough." James argued; angry at being deprived of his sleep. This was to be the only night he'd get rest after recieving a letter from Will staying he'd found Tessa. Lucie and her mess had taken it from him originally and now Thomas was corrupting what little time was left.

He was suddenly jealous of Cordelia, sound asleep and refusing to indulge in his sister's madness.

James's nose twitched and he felt the edge of his vision blur; a voice fraying in his ear as the edges became obsolete. Belial wasn't pleased.

"Why are we helping them raise the dead again?" James asked, undeterred by the way his voice slurred, becoming distant.

He was fading.

"Because she's your sister. Obviously this means a hell of alot to her if she has convinced us to risk exile." Thomas said, his own words slurred. James was as crooked as Thomas's smile. "Besides James, you'll have to help keep Lucie safe."

James caught his breath, his lungs burning. "Exile? Lucie never mentioned Exile to me, Tom."

Thomas had the temporary choice to be embarrassed or confused. He chose confused. "I...she never told you?"

James and Thomas had been quietly arguing for the last fifteen minutes and now this new information was the icing on a very thin piece of cake. James was done talking to all of them. He wanted to get to bed before his head imploded with another rotten expose. "No, apparently I was not privy to that piece of information, Thomas but I wish I had been."

"James. James, I am sorry you did not know of the risks involved with her plans but you should have still known."

And of course, he had a faint idea of the consequences.

"Call upon Alastair if you must Tom." James said bluntly and paused, watching Thomas's complection turn white. James's gold eyes were furious and flaring. Thomas sat up straighter, expecting some imitation instruction. Perhaps his friend knew more than Thomas thought. Perhaps that was not news. Perhaps James already knew that Alastair was to be part of their group. Part of the plan. Unknowingly, Thomas's cheeks burned red as James continued on. "But if you do include Alastair in this nightmare, please do know you will be the one dealing with Math when awakes from his drunken slumber. Goodnight, Tom."

James frowned, upset with Thomas. He turned quietly on his heel and sighed. He stormed out of the room like a rotten child who wanted a piece of chocolate that was refused.

James had to get away before he dissolved into darkness.

Thomas sat on the couch quiet and more sober than he was drunk. His hazel eyes were bloodshot wide and unblinking. He was too shocked and stunned to speak.

#cassandra clare #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles

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burningartwork · 6 years

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Top 10 favorite characters Meme

The Rules:

Choose from 10 different fandoms & any medium (anime, manga, novels, movies, etc, Whatever you like) and tag 10 people.

(Did this in 2016 and I thought I’d share. The list has for the most part remained the same. Honorary #11 is probably Phoenix Wright from Ace Attorney. <3)

10. Sokka – Avatar the Last Airbender / Bolin - The Legend of Kora Starting off this list, I guess I'm going with a pair so I'm.... cheating? It was sort of impossible to chose between these 2 since they're both my favorites of their individual series/arcs(?) but part of the sameish fandom and do share some similar traits and functions in their group. They're both the funny guys and both have been often under estimated. While Sokka fulfills my need to love a brainy character who is simultaneously hilarious, Bolin does the rest by giving me an adorable, nice-guy character... who is equally funny... you... guys will start to notice a trend with the male characters I like... so... don't be too surprised if the same types pop up. I apologize in advance.

9. Sailor Jupiter aka Makoto Kino - Sailor Moon Out of all the Sailor Scouts, Makoto has always been my favorite! I always saw a bit of myself in her & her dual personality. Both tough and strong but with a gushy girly side to her too. I LOVE that about her and how balanced and natural it is for her nature. She's lovely and passionate and loves deeply even if she is tall and seems intimidating.

8. Zack Fair – Final Fantasy 7 Okay, here's my dopey joker fetish coming though... this will be followed by my "brainy" type right afterwards. lol. Zack Fair is hands down the funniest & most likable FF7 character period. I mean, what else is there to say about this guy? Fun, kinda reckless, skilled, an elite soldier, has that black haired, blue eyed combo I go nuts for and is just so willing to take little Cloud under his wing while winning off his future girlfriend in no time. lol Too charming for me to resist.

7. Donatello - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles And now for the brainy type. XD Donatello has ALWAYS been by favorite turtle and not just cause my favorite color is purple. lol I mean, I just like everything about him from his scientific brain to his choice of weapons. And I always say this to people who don't like Donatello: "If he wasn't around... all the turtles, in every series, in every continuity & medium... would totally be dead." Seriously. Donatello keeps the turtles alive for the most part by being a once in a life time genius. He doesn't get enough credit and need more praise.

6. Zoe Washburne – Firefly ... if I were to say that I had a crush on a fictional girl character, it would be Zoe. She's just... so awesome. Just so cool... like, I can't even describe it.

5. Helga G Pataki – Hey Arnold Helga from Hey Arnold is amazing. She's just so insanely in love with Arnold to the point that the football head is her muse and the light of her life. She's so obsessed that she builds shrines to his name. It's hilarious and amazing. She's a total nutjob and I love it! But she's also very astute, clever, a writer and it's painfully amusing to watch her lock that side away when she's at school to become a bossy bully. But you know... it's been 15 years almost... enough is enough. It's time to tell Arnold how you feel Helga! (and NO, I do not count that Hey Arnold movies as her confession. It was awful and very messy) The Jungle movie will FINALLY be released in 2017. I can't wait!

4. Ariel - The little mermaid Like I could leave her out. Ariel was MY Disney Princess. Fearless, curious, adventurous & a total dreamer wanting to live in the world above! I feel like she was very unjustly attacked by the internet as wanting to live out of the sea for a guy. I'm sure that cave of her treasures took her months if not years to fill and the prince was the icing on that cake combined with adolescent rebellion and persuasion after having all her collection destroyed by her father. She was not even crown princess for heaven's sake! Duh, she'd react impulsively!!! *heaves* Okay, okay. Anyways, Ariel single handedly revived Disney and paved the way for the Modern Princesses so don't say mean things about my girl Ariel!

3. Ron Weasley – Harry Potter (Books) Ron. Yeah, love this red-headed firecracker. I'll be frank, while I do enjoy movie Ron, Rupert Grint needed to have more grit written in role just to match up to book Ron. Book Ron practically acted on instinct for everything. He braved the Spiders for Hermione (it was his choice in the books) he tried to curse Malfoy and punched him in the face several times in the books. While I'm normally into different types of male characters, this red-head won me over quickly in the books even edging out funny brothers Fred and George and I think he deserved to be with Hermione after all he went through... i also have confidence issues so I relate to him a lot.

2. (Future) Trunks Brief - Dragonball Z Oh yes. My original Anime Crush. It took a very special character to dethrone Trunks from the top spot. What to say about him? Sweet, courageous, powerful so very likable. Purple Hair for the win! The Future Trunks version has always been my favorite. Being partially raised by Gohan in his dystopian timeline, his personality became kind and understanding and his quest to save his earth in the future was one of my favorite plots! Also, fell in love with his voice actors (both of them). A perfect paragon character... like the guy blow.

1. Robin/Nightwing/Agent 37 aka Dick Grayson - Batman/Nightwing/Grayson comics by DC Comics So this one was a sinch. I am flat out in love wit this character. If I could take any fictional character and bring them into real life, this guy would top my list every time. Dick Grayson, the original Robin, had been my re-introduction into mainstream comics on the DC side of things and boy what a pull! Fully encompassing everything that I find attractive in a man, (even going so far as to coincidentally having physical traits that I find attractive: dark hair & light eyes with a lean but muscular body) Dick is smart, objectively handsome, funny, playful/boyish & has a pure-hearted urge to do what's right because he believes it's what must be done. He differs greatly from his mentor's (Batman) motivations & methods by not being driven by vengeance but rather by justice & diving into a battle rather than hiding in the shadows. This former circus acrobat turned vigilante crime-fighter, is also a natural leader who people tend to trust easily and is always looking to help others with his (seemingly) constant need to be everyone's big brother. This is sooooo attrative to me and the fact that he is known to have the finest butt in all of DC doesn't hurt either.

I think in the future I might do art of all the characters in this meme... Gosh, I haven’t drawn Trunks since the early 2000s. After watching his ark in DBZ Super I have more motivations to do so...

Anyhoo, hope you got some insight into my tastes... and yes, I know, no Kingdom Hearts, Zelda or MLB characters but those franchises, I like more as a whole. But these particular characters I still like without context. (if the people I tag do this, remember to tag me back so I can read it!) And of course, if you want to do this, do it! Tag me also so I can read! @euclidstriangle @kidokaproject @stekadarr @sixofclovers @liberatedpuppeteer @littleredjay @fluoroidtheauthor @april-lilies @sofiedraws @re-defenestratin @ofpaintedflowers @pixelatedcoeur @pinoote-peanut

#character meme #dick grayson #trunks brief #ron weasley #ariel #helga g pataki #zoe washburne #donatello #zack fair #sailor jupiter #makoto kino #sokka #bolin #meme

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hamletstudy · 5 years

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[1/100] - // 7.18.19 // death’s head hawkmoth

So I’ve been kind of emotional as of late. I was jarred into remembering about the ghost of the knight that guarded Jenna Heap’s bedroom after seeing a photoset with a description that listed various ways how ghosts could exist or reasons why they would linger: and that those paired with strong emotions never did fade away. For some reason, this triggered the floodgates: and I found myself weeping over a knight whose name I can’t even remember. I just know that he was fond of silly jokes, and often made terrible puns. He presided over the princess’ bedroom as he had for all of the other princesses before her, and when the castle was being overcome with dark magic thanks to Simon, her brother gone rogue: he made a spirited (spirited!) attempt to defend her. There’s something about that sweet wholesomeness in a paternal figure that really made me bawl, especially when he’s clumsy about it and sometimes taken for granted when Jenna is in a snit.

I keep hearing the whip poor will birds. The tiger lilies that’d been shorn and placed into a glass to dry out and die have long been disposed of, mulched back into the earth, maybe- buried like compost in little piles in the rich loam. They call in a peculiar sort of way, against the other bright birdsong that lights up in early morning and continues until late evening, when the sun falls from the skies: a repeated end noise that makes it sound as if they’re speaking to you.

I haven’t heard, or seen any black birds: crows, ravens, red winged black birds, and I’m worried that the mortal offense of the SUV nearly running them over made them a little more cold, indifferent: I hadn’t had any of them call at my usual alarm hours. I can understand. Or perhaps it’s just that I’m growing up- after all, a coming of age, a loosening of the bonds of childhood: plunged into new plumages and new eras coming alighting down on feathers not so glossily inky.

I’ve been watching a lot of Dr. Mike reacts to medical dramas as of late- I think it’s just that weird, parasocial coziness of having someone more informed than I am explain as we go along, a sort of false learning that I nod and smile at while idly digitally collaging in the background. Speaking of digital collaging, I forgot how soothing that is for me. It’s the perfect way to go about it. The internet has limitless resources, all of the ways to edit it you could want- without any of the mess of glue, shakily trimmed edges from damaged hands, and no worrying about the bulk or tearing if you choose to arrange them in a particular way.

I’ve been feeling isolated. I feel like I know some things approximately, and not very many concretely. The sheer variation of plants around here is comforting, in a distracting sort of way: but the birds are beginning to haunt me. They’re there when I wake up, jarred from sleep- they’re there when I’m trying to go to bed. They’re always there. The greenery seems so far apart from me: almost too exhausted to take in the variation. It all seems like so much work.

It feels like I’m perpetually exhausted. My body seems to want eight hours of its own accord, regardless of the timespan that this falls into. I’m sick of being eaten alive in my own house. The walls are infested with biting bugs: my shoulders and back are livid and red, and I’ve expressed pus from several of them, including on my face and fingers myself. Blood spattering down my face has become almost commonplace.

My hair is a lot more biddable when it’s not being run through the daily stress of being washed three times with enough shampoo to drown a rat in. I’ve killed one black spider that was already curled up and twitching after I trod on a curtain, and one fly that took entirely too long to die. I’m a terrible shot with a towel. I like running my hands through my bangs. The way that it looks as if I’ve a particularly short, boyish cut is really pleasing. I think the bang running is a self soothing habit borne of nervousness, though. Sometimes I pull at my hair in frustration. It’s annoying to try to sleep with it all bundled up into a bun, but even in the cooler depths of the basement- which due to the odd placement of a hilly slope, is really the ground floor, it’s hot as hell. And giant mosquitos live down there. Alongside the black widow colony that set up residence and that I spotted first, as well as swaying, white thick strands of webbing that had gotten all tangled up and coarse.

Found a book that I forgot that I had lent, that I had owned. The sparkly triangles on the cover are soothing. The heft of the book, the cut of the pages. The softness of its supine spine. I cried when I realized it was a book about a woman in my shoes, who had chosen to be furiously happy in spite of her circumstances. Perhaps to spite them. I could only bring myself to read a single chapter. She’s high energy: a lot to process. Even in text I’m an introvert, worn out and exhausted by interactions, even of the parasocial kind.

I tested all of the toilets in the house when we first moved, and ranked them in order of how likely I thought that I might break them, hilariously. The one assigned to me is the one that I thought worked the best, even if it’s cold: and positioned weirdly, it’s tiny, everything lined up: window, you, mirror. You watch others watching yourself, blinds a thin separation. It’s kind of hilarious in a metaphorical sort of way.

I took a bath for the first time in maybe a year, maybe more- and it felt like a religious experience. I wept at being held. I wept at the sensation of being loved, of something that I longed for and missed and hadn’t had the time or chance to in so long. My body hurt, less. I could forget myself, suspended tenderly in the suds. I cried. I stayed in the bath until it ran cold, and pulled myself out hesitantly, gingerly. I wanted to stay. I stayed for the better part of two hours, wrinkling all over. I cried until I couldn’t tell where I ended and started.

The cold winds in combination with the random mechanical sounds and various airplanes flying overhead, with a wet edge to the air can make night seem particularly foreboding. I’m cranky. I’ve been a lot more on emotional tenterhooks as of late. I’ve found myself living according to waiting around for others, on their whims- and I don’t like that. It’s something that I need to address again. It’s the malaise of not having a concrete, solo project to pour all of my attention into.

I swing between wild extremes. If I was an astrologist in any earnest capacity, I would blame it on my gemini moon and libra aspect to my sun sign. Because I don’t believe in astrology, and at most think it’s an amusing short hand to quickly communicate with others about ourselves that at best: has social value, rather than scientific, I chalk it up to a lack of structure and order in my routine, all over the place eating and times, weirdly bunched up water intake, and being sweaty and hormone fluctuations and blood loss out the wazoo.

There was still beach sand inside of my pen, when I took a closer look at it, after a moment of startled fear and confusion as to why the texture was so different on it. Summer draws ever closer to an end and it paralyzes me. I’m horrified by the passage of time, and this time, that deep dread and anxiety about it started as early as the very first week of July. I really hope that this doesn’t start becoming a trend. It strikes me that it probably won’t have the opportunity to, considering the odd placement of summer in the higher echelons of education.

Going into a new city, dealing with new circumstances and faces and navigating it all pretty much after being tossed into the deep end- terrifying. Being stranded in the concrete jungle without a scrap of greenery, other than the tall pink tree in whose bowers I saw a peregrine falcon slaughter a pigeon and rip it to shreds one summer? Terrible. But then, even now- the nature here drives me to distraction. I can’t really enjoy it. I wonder what part of me lost the ability to do that, to sit simply in the world and let it wash over me in deep, abiding comfort.

The cold grayness of the city is depressing, the soot and grime of it settles into your bones and after awhile even the warmth of summer, or the rattling heater can’t make me feel any better about the black, sooty snow churned into a slushy slurry beneath your feet. And the stairs! It’s just the shift of newness. It’s not entirely unknown grounds. It’s a place I know well by night and summer and the neon, shifting quality of holidays. Not so much in its every day to day. But I think it’ll be alright. Its always been the closest thing I’ve ever had to a home city, throughout all of my turmoil brewing years.

I think a part of it is deep grief that’s been stirred up again by contact I didn’t expect. I think a part of it is the sharp hurt at realizing that my importance in others’ lives is not the same as theirs in mind. I know logically, that just calls for a readjustment, a tuning in dialing: but having the curtain pulled back on it aches all of the same. The things we do for the people we love, not knowing if they love us in the same ways, in the ways that matter.

I haven’t been able to bring my pen down onto the paper. I finger the frilled edge from where I ripped pages out, scoring down with a pair of splayed open scissors, I smell the perfume, heady and rosy and floral, and sweet, so sweet- mellowing out the sharp printer’s ink, still a cloud that gets thrown up, a scent of beauty and warm summer beach sand, eating melted icecreams and lying in white, clean sheets snuggled against the blue silky pillowcases that I love so much- and I can’t bring myself to mar it. I don’t know what to do with it. I want to make a safe space, a familiar place: a private sanctum before, to have a place to retreat to, a concept of safety, a place to head back to when I am unsure and lost and questioning, but I can’t bring myself to. A part of me wonders if it is because I am punishing myself for all of the things I cannot bring myself to do, out of that paralyzing fear of indecision, and learned helplessness.

It’s something that bites at me constantly: where do I stand in others’ eyes? Sometimes it surprises me, the unwavering support revealed in a pithy, half of a joke remark. Sometimes it punches the air out of my lungs, a twisting hurt at realization: and smothering it underneath, because no one told you to feel like that. No one ever said that they felt like that. You had just assumed, and sometimes- your assumptions are wrong. Sometimes you are wrong. You walk around with grief in your eyes, tangled in your hair, hands shaking from holding all of it, dripping from the corner of your mouth like the spit and snot and tears that cut tracks down your face: like the baying hounds fighting over territory two doors down.

But whose fault is it, really? You’re the one who put it there.

I read something that struck home. It isn’t naive to expect people to appreciate your love. It was an empty, generic platitude, and yet somehow it was as comforting to see as being wrapped up in my favourite blanket and eating my favourite chocolate cake. I know that I eat to self soothe. I know that it’s a problem. These days, my hands are gnawed down bloodily raw, I am anxious, trembling, walking through my days with generalized anxiety and fear and wanting to cry. I find myself crying at little to no provocation. I feel like a vessel of water filled to the brim: the top bulging with surface tension. One drop and I rupture, I shatter- the elasticity only goes so far. I spilleth over.

I’ve been listening to a lot of country music. I’ve been listening to a lot of indie pop music. I’ve been listening to a lot of Russian pop music, because I was trying to find a ringtone for Sascha’s father in the thing I’m writing with my friend. I found myself crying, shoulders heaving, shoulders trembling over an Ed Sheeran song, of all things: at the idea of being able to put it all on someone else, put it into their hands, let go of that weight and be held for a little while, just to be taken care of. I feel as if that’s what I truly want, underneath all the hysteria and the raw, rough edges: to be loved, and to love in turn. Sometimes I run across songs that chafe at me: make me feel seen, exposed, a throbbing wound barely held back by the lightest layer of skin, the blood flushing the surface: that you aren’t alright. And I don’t think that I am alright.

I find myself crying myself to sleep these days. It makes me sad in an abstract sort of way, for myself, for the fact that I am crying. The winds remind me of when I was a child, and spoke to the wind: fully believing that it was a man, it was named Zephyr, that he pushed and carried my tiny body down the windy round about, that he made tiny cyclones and leaf circulations where I waved twigs at: the sensation of being held and caressed by the wind, hair gently tousled and pried loose. It feels as if a little part of my past has come back to haunt me. I feel as if I am a dwelling of ghosts. I feel as if I am a collection of all that has happened to me, rather than what I have done. I question what exactly I have done.

It’s bizarre what changing the quality of light will do to you: the sky seems flat and gray, and the world similarly dulled and muted for it: the skies are yellow. The umbrella is a stark, sharp red: the extended wood light overtop, weathered, cracked, grey. I want to take a power washer to it.

I want to write a book some day. Who doesn’t? Why? I promised the woman who kept me writing, inspired me to continue to- she said that she expected, in the easily gracious way of absolute faith, to see a dedication in the front cover’s page to her. I don’t know what I want to write about. I don’t know. I sit here for hours sometimes, paralyzed by indecision, unable to make a choice: unable to commit to even the most meaningless of things. Paper or pen. Fridge or room temperature. This identical pen, or the other? Phone or computer? What to hold in my pockets? What to eat?

I feel like I’m slipping into bad habits. Last summer I starved myself thinner. People noticed, complimented me: told me to keep up the good work. I’ve put all of it back on and then some, and I’m disgusted at being recognized. There is an ache in wanting to be seen, and the revulsion in that actually transpiring. It is central to the experience of womanhood. This summer I find myself indulging in comfort foods at hours when the night haunts me: oven soft chocolate chunk cookies, pizza folded over on itself, chocolate cake with creamy frosting, burgers with red onions that make my mouth smart and hurt but God, they’re good. I’ve been drinking a lot of water. I’ve been taking my iron pills. I’ve been trying to see if I have been getting enough sleep. Learning to be gentle with myself is a process.

I’m a woman now, not a girl. No longer the feral wild child, haunting the clover fields and picking through for red budding gowns, laughing with delight at monarchs high up in the sky: symbolic for a livening of the senses, a quickening of breath: the heart thrumming and racing with enthusiasm at learning that the wonders captured on the glossy ink page were real, and here in this life too: but a tired eyed, hollowed out woman. A woman who can’t find solace in the outdoors, who shies from the biting insects, who expresses pus and dribbles blood, spurting out onto mirrors, so tired. I have lines from frowning, now. I have lines carved in lightly where my eyebrows scrunch and furrow. I wear my unhappiness writ across my face, even when I don’t want to be. The monarchs haven’t come this year. They haven’t in many.

The first anniversary of the worst day of my life harkens: and I dread it. Immediately after is one of the most hysterical belated birthday gifts possible, a little nod of absurdism from the universe. Emotional whiplash. It’ll be a year soon. A year into the unknown, stumbling forwards into the future: time doesn’t wait for anyone, doesn’t slow down, doesn’t stop: even as we crawl forwards, haul ourselves on worn down fingernails. And wasn’t it good? Wasn’t there good in it, after all? Even if you didn’t know to anticipate it? Didn’t know what to look forward to?

I’m a very tired young woman, who has been harangued by death all of my life. I think that I’ll live a little longer, as far as the odds go. Someday I will love the things that I love again. For now: I cry when it washes over me, and try to hold onto the idea that it’ll be alright.

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