Slice-of-life. What is important is good characters. Genre sometimes feels like window dressing.
In order of preference: shoujo, yuri, bishounen, yaoi, moe, shounen. Obviously there are exceptional works within each category, but If you put a dangerous weapon to my head and told me browse a single category (of those listed) I'd go with shojou.
ps: Where are "seinen", "josei", "reverse-harem", "gender-bender", and "magical-boy"?
Fruit of the Loo Uhh… >_> <_<… Hold still; let me think for a moment. * makes a scrunched up face *
Blueberries?
Because, Ninile Shijinno, you're the biggest troll this side of Betelgeuse. * makes a dead-as-a-fish poker-face *
* sage mode: stroking invisible beard level * That, dear child, is the nature of questionnaire memes. Why do humans make war? Why do the kitsune wed on rainy days? What does the fox say? The only permanent thing is impermanence.
A mouse and keyboard. Or a pencil and crappy paper. :3
* badpokerface.jpg *
Not in the formal sense.
Pirate Elf, Obvs.
Is it not this question? Yes?
I liked ABShii's questions, and decided to answer them as a bonus round.
Having an important person die.
Don't have one. Never played.
<sappy>One conducted with an important person. :3</sappy>
No. I was a clean freak though. Still am. * dons surgical gloves *
Immortality for all sentient and non-violent lifeforms. Or, perhaps, for the expansion of space to cease, and the heat-death of the universe to not happen—I wish for the controlled reversal of Entropy.
Taking a shower.
Inspect for fleas and pet furiously.
Inspect for fleas and pet with the respect of ten-thousand dynasties.
The eternal non-existence of Kyubey, his kin, any creature of similar power or motivation, in all of space and time, in every dimension of each universe.
Winter, early Spring, and Autumn. Cold, crisp and still days for the win.
A shadow has set upon humanity. All infrastructure is gone. All knowledge is vanished from the minds of men. You alone are untainted, nobody else can read, write, or do arithmetic. Books are no more, save one. A Modern Trivium, written in the 21st Century. Filled with terse and meaningful summaries on geometry, algebra, logic, art, music theory, astronomy, physics, the scientific method, basic survival, first-aid, some practical chemistry, a few poems, a song, two plays, and five legends. It is the last refuge of mankind's knowledge.
You find yourself in a hallway. Searing flame consumes the walls. Something unseen collapses, the roof, or a distant floor, perhaps. There is only enough time and strength in your body to escape through one end of the hallway. Looking down, a small gap suggests of a looming basement. You grit your teeth. The signs of imminent structural failure scream at your awareness.
Up the hallway you see a shattered window. Your eyes follow the glittering dust. Sunlight filters towards a book, delicately teasing out the title, A Modern Trivium sits upon the sill. Greedy flames encroach, desperate to swallow the pages. Desperate to live. Suddenly, a strong burning scratches at your throat. Perhaps you can rescue the book on your way out.
Down the hallway is a foyer, you see an open door—cluttered by small debris. A weak cry catches your ears. You strain your vision and sharply inhale. Then you see it. A child is pinned underneath a shoe-rack. Your lungs goad you with a suffocating dryness. Perhaps you can rescue the child on your way out.
What do you do? Run up, or down, the hallway? You have one option.
* So far I have only used Deviant Art to follow artists I like, this is my first "community act", so I don't exactly have anyone I'm comfortable tagging. I'd love to tag a wild runesael, but seriously doubt they'd stoop down to engage my tomfoolery.
More questions answered!
I suppose that I can admit to having observed the body in which I reside whilst standing before a highly-polished surface. Well, that is once I've overcome the initial surprise and mild shock at the unfamiliar sight of a humanoid emanating from a polished surface. Bipedal featherless skin-covered tubes with four appendages and flat nails are strange things. Even stranger that everyone seems to enjoy piloting one about.
Uncapping my thesis pen†.
Ice Water. Nilgiri or Earl Grey tea. Espresso. Water with ice. Cold blood orange flavored carbonated cans of fluid. Ice cold grape juice. Chilled black tea with liquid sugar and Lemonata soda added.
Watch the effects of my quarks vibrating, and wishing I could resist the merciless non-consensual acceleration through space caused by the poorly-named "big bang". Oh, wait, you weren't after the literal answer. Uhh. Apparently I sometimes answer a stranger's questions between releases of my favorite anime episodes.
Cello. If violins contain awesome, then Cellos contains even MORE awesome. Stringed music is my favorite, it can make me feel like dancing, or keep me on the edge of tears. I dislike metal guitars/drums/bass. Metal violins and cellos? Count me in. Air violin† is a specialty of mine.
2.4π rads per butt-circle.
No. The pitter-patter of FDA and EPA certified droplets shattering themselves against an unwavering bulwark of moldy tile culminates into a white noise that hallmarks first-world privilege, and ultimately, serves as a time of reflection and brainstorming.
All day every day, regrets are held at bay. Redemption is a wish, but will I act on it? I don't know. Certainly do spend thousand of hours fantasizing about writing fourteen quadrillion apologies and delivering eighteen million works of repentance. So. Yeah. badpokerface.jpg
I cannot distinctly recall the last time I experienced the sensation of boredom. (Clearly, this is evidence for an unreliable memory, but don't worry, we'll ignore that, and give this story lots of egomaniacal spin.) A few ephemeral sensations hailing from the age seven and fourteen come to mind… But, you see, the world is so vast, so amazing, so filled with adventure accessible through books, wookiepoodia, and the internet at large, that my mind, being filled with the wonderful works of grand men, is unable to be bored. Strap me to a chair, toss me into an abyss of eternal darkness, and I would not yet become bored.
Some people feel that "magic" is taken out of a thing by understanding said thing, for me the removal of mystery has always added to the "magic". Moar science, plox.
Well, that's the story I tell myself. Anyways…
Numerous independent and contingent goals, plans, backup plans, and aspirations forever roam and gnash their teeth within the bowels of my grey-matter.
* Adirasu is slapped by his left hand. *
* cough *