I’m sure, by now, you all know my daughter, Kira. Or you might not, since she’s never actually mentioned anyone from school. Or brought a friend home, for that matter.
In love with biromantic asexual Kira Yukimura collecting loved ones and digging the fuck out of snuggles and warm blanket forts and coffee dates and yoga classes. She loves kissing and going to the library to watch the cute librarian perform story time for the kids and eating snowcones but not ice cream because dairy makes her a little queasy (not queasy enough to stop eating pizza, just… to not eat ice cream, you feel?). She makes origami animals for her paramours because they are cute, like her, and the smooth folds take practice, take work for her sometimes-clumsy fingers and often racing brain. She gives jars of her dad’s famous kimchi as gifts, because it’s delicious, but she gets him to make it, since she’s still not that good a cook. It’s okay. She has time to learn.
And she has girlfriends and boyfriends and poly relationships because she’s going to live for a thousand years and even that life’s too short to not love as fully and extensively as possible.
All I am saying is biromantic asexual Kira Yukimura, guys.