#Always a struggle finding what media can be my before school and work media

[a-vibing-potato]

Andnow, approximately 12 hours later, I FINALLY get to spend 2 to 2 1/2 hours doing whatever the heck I want, which includes: 1 episode of Supernatural, 1 episode of Demon Slayer, and finishing the episode of MrBallen's Medical Mysteries that I started this morning.

[writingwithfolklore]

How to read more

In my last post, I talked about how professional authors need to be reading always, not just for skills or inspiration reasons, but also to understand their own market and what’s going on in their industry. But if you’re someone who struggles to read that much, here’s some things you can do to help:

1. Schedule a time

Even if it’s only half an hour before bed or the fifteen minute train ride you take to school/work, reading for any amount of time consistently will finish the book. Build it into your routine somewhere that ensures you always have some sort of time to spend putting pages behind you.

2. Turn to digital content less

If the choice is between an easy to put on and turn your brain off TV show over a book… how often are you going to choose the book? Try powering off your phone/other devices when you’re looking to get some reading in. I found I started reading a whole lot more the less time I spent on social media.

3. Join a club or pair up with friends

Book clubs or finding another person to read with you is a great way to hold you to finishing a book. Plus, some of the best parts of reading are connecting with others over a story, and sharing theories, art work, head canons, etc.

4. Try other formats

If physical books aren’t your style, try an e-reader or an audio book. I sometimes get a bit car sick reading a book on the bus, but I can listen to it on my phone and finish it far faster. It doesn’t matter how the book gets done if the book gets done.

5. Don’t be afraid to DNF

If you’re not enjoying a book and coming back to read it is a chore—you don’t have to finish it. It’s okay to put down a book and choose something new if it’s not grabbing you. Reading, while informative for the reasons we already talked about, is also supposed to be fun. Put it down and move on if you aren’t having fun.

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(Psst... Did you know I launched a website?)

Head on over to www.gatesannai.com (or click here!) for exclusive blog posts, updates on my work, and pictures of my dog.

While you're there, consider signing up for my newsletter too :-)

[nylaboon]

hi there! can you please write akito with a reader that has a crush & its suuuuuuper obvious about it, so he can't help but tease reader and get them super flustered? thank you!

Rabbit Hole — Akito Shinonome

"Gonna be a smitten mitten till the day you die?"

— in which An gets you to confess to Akito.

akito shinonome x fem!reader

tags: fluff, characters might be a little ooc, probably shit lmao i wrote this at one in the morning, cut me some slack

note: i literally squealed when i read this request i love akito sm

You've been in school for nine years, yet you still struggle with paying attention in class. It wasn't just the teachers who had poor teaching tactics, which didn't help you activate your brain for the remainder of the day, but it was also the lack of sleep you got each night. You spent more time scrolling on social media than you did working on your homework. It was the poor attention span that troubled you. It was your fault, though. You knew you should've been responsible enough to better yourself in these situations. You were getting to that age, anyway. Soon, you would be independent and no longer under the wing of safety connected to your parents.

But until then, you would continue to feed off your friends.

It helped you get things done faster, so it couldn't have been that bad. You weren't entirely dependent on them, but only just a little. Both An and Mizuki were in the same class as you, so that gave you even more of a reason to slack off whenever they attended. They didn't really mind, either. It just gave you three another reason to hang out after school, therefore it was more of a blessing than a curse. Sitting in the corner booth of Weekend Garage, sipping on piping hot coffee, chowing down on sweet treats, and praying to whatever god up there that one of them had the answers to the homework. It was the highlight of your year.

This afternoon was the same as any other. You rested your chin against the table, tapping the end of your pen against your workbook and staring off into space while An yapped Mizuki's ear off about whatever the hell they were talking about. Another part of your guys' "study session" was that it always took at least thirty minutes for you all to actually get to work. It was a lengthy process, but you still somehow managed to get work done.

After yawning and raising your head from the table to lean back comfortably against the booth seat, An switched her attention from Mizuki to you. She smirked pridefully and played with a strand of her hair. "Y'know, y/n, me and Akito did some talking during practice yesterday, and—"

"What did you do?" You asked in horror, slowly sinking down the seat. An shook her head, a sign that your fear was unnecessary. "I didn't say anything, okay?" She took a large gulp of her coffee before continuing her explanation. "We just played a little game of 'what if'."

"By 'we played' do you mean you forced him to answer your questions while he tried to get work done?" Mizuki interjected, to which An rolled her eyes playfully. "Yes, but that's not the point. The point is..."

She paused, leaving you in suspense. Her mouth stayed open for a bit, before shutting—but there was still a smirk on her face. You raised an eyebrow. "The point is?"

She shrugged. "Actually, I'll let you find out on your own."

You couldn't help but get butterflies from that sentence alone. Whether they were good or bad was unknown, but it made you feel nervous, nonetheless. "C'mon An," you begged, "don't be evil..."

You turned to Mizuki, desperation written on your face. "Do you know anything?"

"No," she answered, "nothing for sure. But can I offer my two cents?" You nodded eagerly and waited for her to speak again. "He never snaps at you, but he sure does tease the hell out of you. Odd, don't you think?"

"Right?" An agreed. "He even snaps at Toya sometimes, and that's his best friend."

"What if I just get Ena to put you on?" Mizuki questioned, to which you immediately declined her offer. You chuckled humorlessly and played with the hem of your shirt. "Absolutely not! She would totally make fun of me until the end of time. Maybe even criticize my taste in guys, if she's feeling extra mean..."

Mizuki scoffed and mocked you. "As if she can't already tell you're crushing on him."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you can't act normal around him for the life of you," the bluenette answered for her. "He doesn't even have to be in the room. We could just be talking about him and you'll start giggling like a little girl."

"No, I don't! I didn't even giggle today!"

"Yeah, because you were too busy trying to not have a panic attack over whether I told Akito about your feelings for him or not," she countered, to which Mizuki agreed.

"Yeah, it's, like, painfully obvious how bad you have it for him. I wouldn't be surprised if he already knew. Maybe that's why he teases you so much."

If that was the case, you wouldn't know what to do. If he already knew, then why wouldn't he just tell you instead of making you wait so long for a fifty-fifty answer? The thought made you want to throw up. Not that it was bad, but it was nerve-wracking. It would be nice if he did know, but what if he didn't feel the same? What then? You placed your hand on your stomach and pouted subconsciously. "All this stress is making my stomach hurt."

"And all this pussying out is making my head hurt," Mizuki joked. Meanwhile, An was scrolling on her phone, barely paying attention to the conversation now. "C'mon, y/n! I'm sure if you tell him, he'll be nice about it."

"No, he won't," you whined. "Guys are never nice about this stuff. The last time I confessed to a guy, he told the entire class and they all made fun of me for a month."

"That was in primary school, y/n..."

"So what? It still happened!"

"Y'know what?" An spoke up as she tidied up her area, putting her books and pens back into her schoolbag. "What if we help you practice a confession?" You raised an eyebrow and asked what she meant. "Mizuki will cover your eyes, and I'll pretend to be Akito. Then, you work your magic and confess!"

"Why does Mizuki have to cover my eyes—?"

"Because it'll help you focus on envisioning his presence." It didn't take a genius to know that she completely pulled that claim out of her ass, but you chose to just let her get away with it. "C'mon, y/n! It's getting sad watching you drool over him without knowing if he feels the same or not."

You let out a defeated sigh and threw your head back. "Okay, okay. We can practice, or whatever."

Little did you know that agreeing to her idea would be the best and worst decision you've ever made.

As to why you were doing this outside was a mystery. Maybe it was to avoid getting weird looks from people inside the cafe, but it was equally as bad—and probably worse—to do outside the building. You stood in front of An, awkwardly rubbing at your arm to distract yourself from the pure embarrassment you felt every time someone walked past you three. Mizuki and An, however... You really needed their confidence, because they did not seem to give a shit about gaining people's attention.

"Alright," An said cheerfully, "close your eyes and just imagine that I'm Akito. Mizuki, you cover her eyes so she can't see for sure." Mizuki did as she was told, lightly cupping her hands over your eyes. With that, An cleared her throat and spoke up a second time. "Are you imagining him?"

"Uh," you muttered nervously, "sure, I guess." It took a while for her to speak up again, but you assumed that she had gotten distracted by her phone again. "Now say what you have to say. Don't think about it; just let it flow out."

"...An, this is stupid."

"Trust me! It'll help!"

You sighed and took your time to think. Let the words flow out, you thought. It couldn't be that hard. It was like you were talking to yourself. All you had to do was just forget about An and Mizuki, and you were good. You imagined a world where everything was perfect. A world where it was just you and Akito, for the time being. A world where no one could make fun of you for expressing yourself. A world where everything went your way. You clenched your hands into fists and swallowed hard, preparing to vocalize your thoughts and feelings.

"...since you're totally Akito," you began sarcastically, still finding the whole concept to be ridiculous, "I guess now's the time to finally tell you about how much I'm soooo in love with you, and how annoying it's been to have to deal with these feelings, knowing damn well that I was way too scared to actually tell you about them without my friends forcing me to. And I guess I have to talk about how irritating it is to have to deal with your teasing without knowing if it's platonic or not. And I guess I have to talk about how this is probably a huge waste of time because I know that I'll just pussy out when I actually want to try to confess to you."

You could hear Mizuki sigh behind you. "You're not taking it seriously, y/n!"

"What's the point? It's not like I'm gonna tell him anything anytime soon, so what's the—"

During your mini-rant, you pulled Mizuki's hands away from your eyes and opened them. Instead of An standing in front of you, she was beside Akito, who was now where she stood before. You felt your entire body freeze up at the sight of him. Not only that, but your heart fell all the way down to your ass. He was smirking at you, seemingly finding the situation to be amusing.

"—That's the point," Mizuki finished for you. Not that you were even listening. You were too busy trying to not start hyperventilating. "Why are you here?" You timidly questioned. He was supposed to be at work, so why the hell was he here now?

"I'm on my break and An told me to come here," he answered smugly, not once breaking eye contact other than to blink. "What was that about you being soooo in love with me?" Your jaw clenched and your head became light. Is this what dying felt like? Because, honestly, you were hoping that your next breath was your last.

"It was just a joke," you blurted out and internally cursed at how stupid that lie was. Akito sneered and let out an 'uh-huh'. You weren't getting out of this easily, so you might as well just give up. "Akito," you muttered, "don't do this to me."

"I already knew before this," he admitted nonchalantly. "I just wanted to see how long it would take for you to tell me."

"It would've taken longer if An didn't set me up..." Maybe your crush on him was obvious, as much as you didn't want to believe it. "Can you just, like, tell me what you think so I can rest easily tonight?" He nodded and laughed a bit with that same annoying grin on his face. "I think you're cute, or whatever."

An let out an excited squeal before you could even process what he said. "And I think that you should come clean about this beforehand so we could actually…y'know."

"I don't know," you replied, to which Mizuki quickly spoke up with a grin of her own. "He wants you!" Akito sent her a glare but didn't deny it.

"You're making this a lot less enjoyable for me," he advised the girls. "But I guess that's one way to put it." It felt like the entire world was crumbling beneath your feet but in a good way. You couldn't help but play with your fingers as a nervous tic, but despite your anxiety, you were smiling. Wide. Before you knew it, you walked up to him and pulled him into a tight hug. Akito was caught off guard, but only for a bit. He eventually wrapped his arms around you as well and applied a sweet kiss on the top of your head. It was like a dream.

"Thanks, An…" you mumbled against his chest. You totally owed her after this.

written by @nylaboon

[kisessei]

Ok, so, after a little bit of mulling, I've found that I'd love to see your take on Akashi dealing with an unruly reader with a strong personality who others struggle to challenge in general? Not necessarily someone who's really mean, just someone who enjoys rough housing and playful banter a lot?

If that would work for you, you'd make my day if the reader could be a bit taller than Akashi and have a small crush on him!

Thanks so much for your time and replies- and cheers to a bright future for your blog! >:D

A/N: I present to you the disappointment of the week, but I hope it'd be worth the reading. Anyway, I might have gone overboard with the bullying, but that's one of my love languages and he is my favorite lol. Enjoy and thank you so much. Sorry for any mistakes.

Akashi Seijuro x Reader

You were used to things going your way. Always. If you wanted to do something, you did it. If any rules were inconvenient for you, you bent them, bypassed them, or simply ignored them. You knew what you did was right and acted how you wanted. Not many people had the guts to object to you; they preferred to stay peaceful, not wanting to get on your bad side, and the unfortunate ones who tried usually failed miserably. Well, you didn't have problems until your eyes landed on the student council president. Was this short, annoyingly polite, expressionless person the guy everyone was talking about?

The first encounter with Akashi Seijuro was a disaster the whole school recalls to this day. How were you supposed to know that the guy who was allegedly one of the smartest and most athletic people at school was also incredibly stuck-up and insecure? When he gave you a task to complete that was your responsibility as a student council member, along with strict deadlines and instructions, your initial reaction was to raise an eyebrow at his audacity. Did he think you were his assistant or something? With a raised eyebrow and the most condescending tone, your response was.

"Sorry, I can't quite hear you from here," you lowered yourself to be face-to-face with him, "Can you repeat that?"

You swore if a look could kill, he'd be in jail for homicide. The way his whole face dropped immediately; his sharp red eyes pierced through yours. For a moment, you experienced the excitement of being challenged. As you studied his features, your heart pounded as though it was on the verge of going into cardiac arrest. His demeanor remained mostly the same, even though his once polite smile now appeared forced, and his face lost its color. Most likely, he was trying to keep his composure so he wouldn't tear you to pieces.

To ease some tension, you attempted to explain yourself, "Come on, it was just a joke about your height."

Oh god. He let out a small sigh, then coughed, and before you could insult him again, the other council members, who cared enough to save your life, stepped in to stop the interaction.

That day, you went home and told your friend about the interesting encounter. Your friend quickly caught up the excitement in your voice, and in response to her comment to be careful not to fall in love, you laughed.

But was it pretty funny when you found yourself scrolling through his social media in an attempt to find pictures of him? Why did you do that? Because you solely wanted to understand what others saw in him that you failed to observe. As simple as that. Nothing more, nothing less. As expected, he didn't have many pictures, but there were some outdated pictures of him winning different competitions in several fields and you grew increasingly annoyed at how good he looked in those. After more research, you discovered he was an absolute menace on the basketball court. You found countless videos of him playing against people who were far taller than him and far taller than you. You figured it must have hurt his ego rather badly. Then you found another video that was taken not during the game, but before it started; you saw how he dropped someone to their knees. Effortlessly. The guy was much bigger than he was, and you began to wonder just how lucky you were not to share the same fate as the poor guy in the video.

It was also funny when you, for the first time in a while, tried to do something nice for him and complete the task he had given you. Because it was the only way to get him to look at you after the 'incident.' He had chosen to gracefully ignore you after you dared to insult his precious height. He was pretty surprised when you dropped the papers onto his desk.

"I am going to say this once and never repeat it. I'm not your assistant; I'm not going to worship you. I'm only doing this because I offended you, although if you ask me, it's not my fault some people don't grow."

He smirked and replied, "Sorry, I can't quite hear you from here, but this is your next task."

There was the thrill again, as you looked down at him. Turned out he was not as insecure as you imagined him to be, his sense of humor was as sarcastic as yours.

As more time has passed you’ve learned to be more and more creative with the teasing and jokes. Starting with how he should quit everything and become a hairdresser judging from the haircut that he had given himself. Ending with questioning his age every time he dared to mention one of his hobbies outside of basketball. At first, he was visibly irritated, but soon enough he adapted to your ‘difficult’ personality. He found his way of dealing with your jokes and teasing. He was a pretty serious person, so having someone who did not obey him immediately and did not try to please him, was an interesting change. You were out of his control and he had to put effort into analyzing your behavior in hopes of getting you to do what he wanted. Everyone was surprised you two hadn’t killed each other yet. But with changes from both sides, your cooperation was rather successful.

So successful that you found yourself thinking about him way more than you anticipated. You did start to see in him so much more that was never seen by others. You noticed his small dimple when he smiled, his long eyelashes, his nose bump, his small habits, his kindness and selflessness and instead of feeling hatred towards him, you found him endearing. But the newfound feelings never stopped you from dropping different yogurts on his desk that were advertised to be helpful for growth.

“Are you taunting me this much because you do not have any other method to express your interest in me? Is this an attempt to conceal your emotions?”

He asked you one day, to which he got a very disrespectful, absolutely not refined “fuck you” in response. But he managed to catch the slight pink in your cheeks. He was right. Moreover, he absolutely predicted the defensive reaction from you, however, what he could never predict was what words you would use each time.

[monster-disaster]

Hey! Saw that your requests are open and wanted to submit a request (more of a general idea, really):

A human reader who’s lover is a high-ranking demon/Archdevil/Prince of Hell. Because of his position in the infernal hierachy, he’s quite serious and doesn’t always grasp irony or figures of speech. Like the fact that humans say they hate someone doesn’t necessarily mean they wish ill fortune for that person. Or their "love" for something isn’t equivalent to love between partners.

Just a serious demon monarch confused by human rhethorics. Thanks!

I’d say you’re doing the Lord’s work but that might be an ufortunate choice of words on my part…. Anyway, keep being awesome! :)

Thank you for your request! :)

demon!Vinar x human!Reader Good to know: high school stereotypes

now The recognition strikes you with a gasp. "It was all you!" Your voice is accusing but not angry; you're too shocked to be angry. "Took you long enough, love," Vinar sounds proud. He even smiles as he opens the car door for you. "Vinar!" You gasp again, mentally retracing every mishap and misfortune of the night. It was all him the whole time! The curve of his lips slowly disappears as he frowns at you in confusion. "What?" The demon asks. "You hate them."

not long ago Vinar's arm tightens around your waist, pulling you closer to his body as you struggle to keep your jaw from hitting the floor. You both stand near the bar, each holding your own drinks. The fruity cocktail your boyfriend ordered for you a few minutes ago still lingers on your tongue. "What the hell is happening here?" You breathe out, shocked. Vinar smiles at your choice of words but remains silent. The demon tries to conceal the satisfied curl of his lips behind his drink. Little do you know, you've just answered your own question.

When you received an invitation to your high school reunion a few weeks ago, your immediate reaction was dismissal. The four years you spent with them were more than enough, and there wasn't a fiber in your body that wanted to experience it again.

But the thought didn't leave you alone.

High school was long years ago, and you left your awkward teenage years behind after graduation. Things changed for the better, and a not-so-small part of you wanted to show it to them. Curiosity also played a role. You made sure not to follow anybody on social media, but now that memories flooded back, you couldn't help but wonder how their lives turned out. Did they make their dreams come true?

So after thinking it through, you decided to accept the invitation. It's just a night anyway, you told yourself. Whatever happens, you can survive it.

You're still preoccupied with watching the ex-cheerleader limp to the restroom, completely oblivious to your boyfriend's suspicious satisfaction. Her ankle seems to bend at an awkward angle every few steps as she hurries away, hunched over. Maybe it's rude of you, but you can't find any sympathy for her misfortune in yourself. After all, the only reason she approached you upon your arrival was to shamelessly ogle Vinar. It took all of your self-restraint not to snap at her to stop drooling. So no, you don't feel bad about her heels.

"Do you think she will come back?" You ask your demon, still staring at the narrow corridor where she disappeared moments ago. Vinar scoffs. "If she wants to leave, she has to come out at some point." "The heels of her shoes just come off," you tell him. "Both!" The male's chest rumbles with a quiet chuckle as he looks down at you. "Are you laughing?" "No," you lie, deciding to drown your amusement in your cocktail before anyone notices it. After one of your ex-classmates leaned down and tore the bottom of his trousers, you are not sure people would appreciate your reaction. You glance at the man from the corners of your eyes. He stands at the wall with his friends, making sure he can hide his accident. "It's certainly not their night," Vinar hums under his nose.

He is definitely right, and the icing on the cake comes when the man who was the football star of the high school once upon a time reaches his alcohol limit and starts vomiting on himself, not sparing the others around him. "Oh my god!" You gasp, eyes wide. "Oh god!" Your boyfriend grimaces at the sight, slipping his large hand to the small of your back. "I think it's time for us to leave." "Yeah," you reply, putting down your glass. "We should." "Do you want to say goodbye?" You scan the room with disinterest. You barely talked to anyone more than a few words, and to be honest, you're fine with it. Some of them have changed, and some of them haven't. A lot of them have families now, with kids, while others are busy with their jobs or with anything that interests them. Now that you've met them, you don't even remember why you were curious about their lives. "No," you tell Vinar, letting his fingers curl around yours. "We can go."

You leave the building side by side. It's already dark outside, and the parking lot is filled with your ex-classmates' cars. The city is bustling around you with people and long rows of traffic, but your attention turns back to the building behind you when a muffled thud reaches your ears. "What was that?" The demon shrugs. His posture is easy and relaxed. "Who knows." You frown at him with a new-found suspicion. "It was a strange night," you comment. Vinar grins. "It was."

now Your eyes follow him as he rounds the car to take his place behind the steering wheel. His smoky, dark scent fills your nostrils, and for a moment, you forget everything. You calm down and let yourself rest in your seat. Every tension you carried the whole night fades from your muscles. A soft sigh leaves your lips before you start speaking again. "Vinar…" "What?" he asks again. "You told me you hate them!" The tall demon, the prince of hell, the love of your life, almost sounds like a kid who knows he's in trouble but still tries to get out of it. "I'm not angry," you tell him, putting your hand on his thigh with a reassuring squeeze. The black fabric of his slacks feels soft under your palm. "But do you remember when I said I love that orc who plays in my favorite rom-com?" A grimace pulls on Vinar's face. "Yes," he grunts. "What did I tell you when you threatened to kill him?" There is a slight amusement in your voice as you watch his profile. Your gaze wanders down on the slope of his nose and the hard line of his jawline. "That it doesn't mean you would leave me for him." "Exactly! I love his talent, not the male himself." You feel like you have to remind him again. The topic of you loving others besides him and your family is still a sensitive spot. "And when I ranted about how much I hate my job?" "You said it doesn't mean you want to lose your job." The demon licks his teeth in distaste. He doesn't like this conversation. "So, do you think I wanted to ruin their night and almost put them in danger just because of some bad memories?" He grunts in answer. "No." "That's right." "Are you really not angry?" He asks, glancing at you. You squeeze the hard cords of his thigh again. "No. But let's go before they find out it was you the whole time." There is a laugh in your tone that makes his rigid posture relax. "As if they could do anything about it," the prince smirks arrogantly.

[ryxiez]

Rekindled Flame.ೃ࿐

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

genera ➛ angst -> fluff

paring ➛ idol!keeho x reader

word count ➛ 2.1k

warnings ➛ drinking {y/n is of age}, misunderstandings, both y/n and keeho are very mature, talk of both high school and college, possible smut in part 2.

A/N: i wanna write more for p1h especially after seeing their amazing concert! pls leave suggestions <333

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

It has been 10 years since you last saw his face. For 10 whole years, you have been left wondering if you could have been anything more.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. You've seen his face on your FYP from time to time while scrolling through your favorite social media apps. Its like your phone loved to torture you.

However, you couldn't bear to stare for longer than a minute. You couldn't let those feelings you once shared come back.

Keeho left you. He left you with nothing more than a letter in the mail.

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve been struggling to find the right words, but I know it’s time to be honest about what’s been weighing on my heart.

You’ve been my rock, my confidante, and my best friend. The time we’ve spent together has been nothing short of incredible, filled with memories that I will cherish forever. But as much as it pains me to say this, I have to be truthful about the future.

You know a bit about how much I’ve always dreamed of pursuing a job in the music industry, and now that opportunity has finally come. Moving to Korea is a chance to follow my dreams, connect with my past, and grow in ways I’ve always hoped for. It’s an opportunity I can’t pass up, but it’s also one that takes me far away from you.

This decision hasn’t been easy. I’ve spent countless nights thinking about us and what this move means for our relationship. The distance, the time apart—it’s something I’m not sure we can overcome without causing each other more pain and heartache. We both deserve to be happy and to fully embrace our futures, even if that means being apart.

You have been such a significant part of my life, and I will always be grateful for the love and support you’ve given me. I hope you understand that this decision is not about us lacking love or commitment, but about me needing to take this step for myself.

I believe that both of us deserve the chance to pursue our dreams and live our lives to the fullest. I hope that, in time, you can see this as a new beginning for both of us rather than an end.

I wish you all the happiness and success in the world. You are an amazing person, and I know you will go on to do incredible things. Thank you for everything you’ve brought into my life and for the memories we’ve made together.

Please take care of yourself, and remember that you will always have a special place in my heart.

With all my love,

Stephen

The words were still burned in your memory; you read the letter for weeks on end. You tried to contact him in every way possible, but your messages never seemed to be delivered, let alone even read.

That was until you realized you spent your entire summer before college sulking over a man who left you on a whim, the same man who you thought was going to be your high school sweetheart for the rest of eternity. You knew you shouldn't have let your hopes for the relationship develop as far as they did.

From then on, you decided to grow up and leave men—more like boys—in the past. You focused on your studies, climbed higher and higher in your line of work, and created a stable life for yourself and, of course, your pets.

However, it all seemed to feel like it was all crumbling down when you got a message from a very old group chat after you sat down to watch your favorite show.

"Class of ----, 10 year reunion!"

Of course, the thought of him was the first to come to mind.

Oh, how you wish you had outgrown the teenage heartbreak. It seems only a few things ever change.

There were plenty of random numbers in the chat, but in the back of your mind, you hoped that one of them might be his.

Days passed, and time drew closer to the large reunion. The world had seemed to slow down as your mind was clouded with too many conflicting emotions to even count.

You didn't know what to wear. You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what to do because, god forbid, Keeho actually showed up to this event. For all you knew, he was still in Korea, living out his idol dreams. It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

As the night on the fated day rolled around, you made your way to the bar your former classmates rented out for the night. Let's just say you guys raised a lot of money back then.

Your dress was black and fitted. It had off the shoulder straps with a slit on the right side showing off your admirable figure (you all are beautiful <3).

Squeals filled the large open area as you walked through the door. Old faces surrounded you as you all shared laughs and smiles together.

On the other hand, you noticed your own eyes straying from those of your old friends. You were searching for somebody.

A small sigh left your lips when you didn't see his face. Was it disappointment? Was it relief? You didn't even know yourself. What you did know was that you needed some drinks while catching up with the girls.

The night went on; it was almost, if not past midnight. You shared laughs, smiles, and even tears while listening to everyone and their stories. Oh, how you would love it if your life were ever that interesting.

That's when you heard someone behind you.

"Y/N?" it said.

You froze in place.

You recognized the voice. Maybe it was just your imagination. Maybe if you ignore it, it will go away.

So you continued to listen to the girls talk, but you soon realized they all stopped to stare at whatever was behind you.

"Y/N, please."

You stood straight up, gathering your belongings while getting ready to walk right out the door. You weren't ready for this. Not yet. But how many more years did you need?

A firm hand grabbed your arm and stopped you from walking any further. You froze yet again, and the hand slowly turned you around.

You were now face-to-face with nobody other than the man himself, Keeho.

His hair was a deep black, just as you always remembered it. His outfit was all black, coincidentally matching your own. A pair of glasses rested on his nose, complimenting his features nicely. But his eyes? They looked concerned.

You could've sworn you noticed a little blush appear on his face after he noticed you checking him out up and down.

You felt like melting into a puddle on the floor right then and there, but not because of the butterflies in your stomach, but because of embarrassment.

"Please, let's just talk." He pleaded yet again.

You were not having any of it. You could feel the anger bubble up inside of you, but you did not want to do anything you would regret, at least not yet. The alcohol in your body may make you think differently later.

"Talk about what, Keeho?" You made sure the venom leaked from your teeth when you spoke his name.

He flinched. "About us, Y/N. I've missed you so much."

"There is no US," you spat before thinking, "We haven't been together for 10 years, and this is how you say hello?"

Keeho's eyes widened. "Wha-what do you mean?" he stuttered in disbelief.

You couldn't help but laugh. There is no way this man is standing here acting like the victim in this situation.

"Why are you laughing?!" He cried out despritley. Everyone in the whole bar was easily staring at you both now.

You're not a monster. You could see the hurt and betrayal in his eyes. You knew something wasn't right, and you knew you needed to listen to him talk.

"Okay, I'm sorry," you said in a hushed voice, trying to calm the man down in front of you with a deep breath of your own. "Let's talk, but not here; come on." You grabbed his sleeve, pulling him out of the bar.

You didn't bear your farewells. That was the least important thing on your mind in this moment. You were focused on getting the truth. What exactly did Keeho mean?

Rain came down suddenly as a flash of light flew through the sky.

'Just great,' you thought.

"Y/N..." Keeho whispered from behind.

You stopped tugging on this jacket to turn around. Unexpectedly, you were met with sad and pleading eyes. Ones that threatened to spill with tears as the rain rolled down his face—his goddamn pretty face.

"Kee..' the nickname slid off your tongue just like it did many years ago. 'I promise to listen, and I'm sorry I was irrational. Let's get back to my place and we can talk, okay?"

All he could do was nod before taking your hand in his and taking you to his car. He knew you were too tipsy to drive safely yourself, but you couldn't help the faint blush that appeared on your face at the contact.

The car ride was silent. His eyes seemed lazzer focused on the road while you couldn't help but steal glances his way every other second.

You mumbled a few directions to your house. Your head was pounding, whether from the few drinks or the fact that so much had happened all at once.

The last thing you expected was to be in Keeho's car while he drove you back to your place. But wasn't this what you wished for deep down?

The breaks slightly screeched to a stop as he pulled into your driveway.

"Wait," he said before jumping out of the car to open the door for you.

He grabbed your hand as he helped you out of the low car.

"Still a gentleman, I see."

He chuckled a little. but his mind still seemed to be elsewhere.

As you unlocked the door and let both of you in, he immediately led you to the couch. Sitting you down, Keeho then ventured to go find you a glass of water.

Handing you the cup, he spoke, "Y/N, where have you been?" He paused. You were taken aback. "I've tried contacting you a countless number of times, and all I've gotten was radio silence. I didn't even expect you to still be in our old town."

You took his words in, and they hit you hard. However, you knew you had to be mature about the situation and talk out whatever misunderstanding you had.

"Keeho, I haven't heard a thing from you since the day you randomly up and left." You spoke after taking a sip from the glass of water. You tried to gather your thoughts to the best of your ability.

"I know it was sudden, and I still regret leaving so quickly. I just don't understand how you've heard nothing from me this whole time." He paused to think. "I've tried to call, text, and even write letters; I swear Y/N. I just don't understa-" He cut himself off.

You could tell something clicked inside his mind once his hands clutched together and his eyes became glossy.

"What is it, Kee? I don't understand this whole thing either." You said softly as you reached out to hold his tense hands.

"I-I don't know for certain... I think my company is behind all of this. It explains why they had me get a brand new phone and phone number. They also asked a lot about my romantic life and your basic information. Oh my god, I bet they probably blocked your number in my phone before I even got it." He looked up from his spot on the floor as he was taking everything in himself, his eyes making contact with yours. "I am so sorry, Y/N. I-I never meant for any of this to happen I-"

"It's okay." You cut him off.

You couldn't believe what you were saying. How could this be okay? This man has left you basically broken and helpless for a decade, and in less than an hour you already forgave him.

On the other hand, you could tell he was hurting the same as you.

"No, no," He felt conflicted, "I have to make it up to you. I've missed you so much, and I hope you've missed me too. Please let me show you how much I still love you."

≫ ──── ≪•◦ to be continued ◦•≫ ──── ≪

[ivyrosewater]

Here's a preview of all of my upcoming works! I'm doing my best to work on them but it's definitely a slow process! 🫶🫶

QH43 -- Can I Get Your Number?: When the Hughes Bowl rolls around, otherwise known as the Canucks vs. Devils game, you obviously have to come and support your boyfriend. The only problem is, no one knows you two are together, and all Quinn’s given you to help is his jersey.

JH86 -- Teach Me?: As Jack’s new girlfriend, all he wants to do is show you off. You’ve been on a few dates before, but your first real opportunity to present it to the public is at the family skate. But. the thing is, you don’t quite know how to skate even the slightest bit.

LH43 -- I Hate Horror Movies: On a cozy night in on one of Luke’s off days, you decide on a movie date night. You both decide to surprise each other with your movie choices, and you decide on a horror movie, not knowing how much Luke hates them.

SJ24 -- One Beautiful Mistake: You and Seth have been dating for over a year, everything going in the right direction, even moving in together already. But one day, you find out you’re pregnant, and you just don’t know how to tell him.

NH13 -- Under Wraps: Keeping a relationship hidden from the media is one thing. Hiding one from your nosy and protective brothers was even harder, especially one involving the younger two’s team captain, the one and only Nico Hischier.

CM8 -- Behind the Scenes: a Hockey Boyfriend: When you first start dating a hockey player, there’s much to learn. One of the most important is learning all about hockey, especially when your boyfriend is the one and only Cale Makar, and when you are completely lost when it comes to all things hockey.

WJ53 -- Home is Where the Heart Is: You and Wyatt have been together as long as he’s been playing in the NHL, having gotten together senior year of high school in Ontario. Long distance has been a struggle, to say the least, but you do your best to show up to a few games here and there with your busy college schedule. After a contract is signed to keep Wyatt on the Stars, you decide to surprise him by moving to Dallas too.

LD29 -- Take Me Into Your Loving Arms: Leon has always tended to be hard on himself, especially during losses. When his team makes it all the way to the Stanley Cup Finals, only to lose it all in the end, he’s distraught. Thankfully, he has you waiting at home for him just a flight away, more than ready to comfort him through it all.

CB98 -- Meet Me in Chicago: Connor knew you were special from the day he met you, all the way back in middle school. He had the biggest crush on you for years and years, but he never had the courage to ask you out, missing out on his opportunity when hockey took over his life. When he got drafted by Chicago, the last thing he expected was for you to follow, but it turned out you also were going to college there. It was a sign, and now that he was in the big leagues, there was no way you could say no, right?

TZ11 -- Break the Ice: Trevor’s life has revolved around hockey for as long as he could remember. He’d been taught all his life that ice was meant to be used for hockey, not by dainty figure skaters. So what happens when a scheduling mishap makes the Ducks have to share the ice with you, an up and coming figure skater, for a week?

AS37 -- Good Luck Charm: Andrei has never believed in silly superstitions, finding them a waste of time when he had plenty of other things to worry about. That is, until you, his girlfriend of a few months, shows up unexpectedly to one of his home games, and he scores not once, not twice, but gets a hattie.

MR73 -- May Flowers: Matt, your long-time boyfriend knows your two favorite things like the back of his hand; spring and flowers. So, when his team is officially knocked out of the playoffs, it’s the perfect spring weather he needs to take you on a picnic date of your dreams in blossoming Central Park.  

LN4 -- Dumb Ways to Meet: Lando has always been a reckless and aggressive driver on the roads, everyone knew that. You, on the other hand, have been anything but, always managing to keep your cool even in the stupidity other drivers cause. The last thing you expected was to meet an F1 driver, and especially not in this situation; in a car crash.

CL16 -- Life In the Fast Lane: Charles often got frustrated with the engineers of Ferarri. Often times, the strategy didn’t make sense, and the races usually ended poorly because of it. When the new season rolls around, they have replaced his race engineer, bringing you in instead, a talented engineer that used to work for Mercedes. Things immediately start to look up, him ending up on the podium for the past few races, and all because of you. On top of it all, he can’t help but fall for you, loving to hear your voice guiding him to victory. Will he risk it all by getting with you, or will he let you drive by just as fast as the cars around him do?

MV1 -- Hey Jealousy: Max was a person that got upset easily, that much was obvious. So when he gets with you, one of the top mechanics for Ferarri, something is practically certain to go wrong. Everyone else knew you and Charles were only good friends, but in Max’s eyes it was anything but friendly, resulting in a jealous and grouchy Redbull racer.

OP81 -- All Fun and Games: You and Oscar loved to play video games together, as it was something simple you two could bond over. The only thing that you haven’t played before is his racing simulator. When you bring it up that you want to try, Oscar is only the slightest bit hesitant, but he does let you try one round on it. It certainly caught him off guard though when you ended up beating his best time on the circuit.

LH44 -- No Risk, No Reward: Lewis was always a calm and collected driver, making calculated decisions and overtakes. So, when he gets crashed into during qualifying and spins out into the barriers, you can’t help but immediately panic and worry about him the entire time until you know he’s okay.

CS55 -- How Do You Say It?: Carlos has always loved to call you countless nicknames and give you sweet messages in Spanish. The thing is, you don’t always understand them. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands and learn Spanish on your own, but it’s not nearly as good as being taught by your Spanish boyfriend.

The Grid -- The Art of Being Spoiled: the times your sugar daddy boyfriends have tried (and succeeded) in spoiling you.

[pseudophan]

wait i'm new here and i'm curious, if you're okay talking about it what happened before in the uk / why did you move back?

longass story but i've complained about this whole ordeal so much on here i think if i do the whole thing again people will get mad at me like omg we get it. anyway here it is again:

i moved to england (milton keynes specifically which all brits find very funny) with my mum in 2016 to go to high school because norway requires you to do six thousand subjects even if you "specialise" in something and i just did not have that in me. every subject combined with an instant fail if you miss more than like three lessons? absolutely the fuck not. in mk i did a level 3 creative media btec which is known as a bit of a joke because it won't make you kill yourself as much as a-levels, but lowkey i enjoyed it SO much. i've heard media btecs are very hit or miss depending on your tutors but mine were really good! half my class was only there because they flunked out of their a-levels and wanted something easy, but by like week two i'd say most of them were really into it

after college i started a film and tv production course at uni in london, none of the fancy unis because rip my grades lmao but it was a good time. year one went alright, but then when i applied for a loan for the second year months went by and i didn't hear anything until literally DECEMBER, halfway through the year, when they got back to me and were like oh sorry you don't qualify for the loan. oh and we're also taking back the money you got for the first year, so now you're in immediate debt to us for that and to the uni directly for the months you just did where we just couldn't be bothered to tell you you didn't qualify for any funding. hope this helps!

basically because i'd already lived in the uk for a couple of years before university i could apply as an english student rather than an international one, which is much cheaper so that was great. i also, IN THEORY, qualified for a loan through the student loans company, which is, IN THEORY, much easier and less annoying than the norwegian one because you don't start paying it back right away, you can wait until you're actually making x amount of money. all good. the problem was that the only reason we could afford to just fuck off and move to england in the first place was that my mum got to keep her norwegian job and work from home, meaning we weren't sure if i DID actually qualify for the loan because the way she was paying taxes was like kind of confusing. i still don't know exactly how it works, but i guess you pay it all to one country and then they split it? cause you're effectively paying taxes to both norway and the uk but you're not supposed to have to pay More so idk. who knows. not me. but yeah so we called them Multiple times to ask if i was in fact eligible for a loan and every time they were like yeah it's no problem. my bad for not getting it in writing by the way, always do that. then like i said they fully accepted my loan for the first year after looking through all our documents so clearly it WAS in fact fine, or at least enough people working there believed it was.

i have no idea what actually happened with the second year application, or which one got evaluated wrong. might have been the first one, might be the second, i'll probably never know. the real kicker though is that if they just got back to me earlier i could have gotten a norwegian loan and it would probably be fine, but because they were months late i only had like two weeks until the application deadline for the norwegian one and because the whole situation was so complicated and confusing, and i was struggling really hard with any paperwork or essays because of my super cool then-still-undiagnosed adhd, i just didn't have it in me to fight it. i was like whatever, guess i have to just drop out. didn't actually have to drop out, they suspended me for unpaid fees. i kept going until they turned off my key card though and banned me from campus lol, my tutors were just like eh keep showing up until it doesn't work anymore, it's not like they can suspend you out any more 😭

fuck knows what my plan was after dropping out. in my head i was like, well i can probably get a shitty job for a bit and yeah it probably won't go very well but it's not like i've tried, who knows! and then uhhhh covid happened LMFAO, so nevermind that shit! turns out getting a job in covid lockdown london is Difficult. my mum moved back in the middle of covid and a few months later i had to follow and now half a decade later here we are </3

[sixeyescurseuser]

Tattoo/Neurosurgeon

Modern AU where Satosugu were best friends in high school but Gojo who went off to the best uni for his medical studies and Geto who went off on his own to find his calling. 

Gojo got really busy with uni so he couldn’t reach out as often and Geto had known (read: assumed) he was no longer a priority in Gojo’s life. So they drifted apart. 

Ten years later, a lot has changed. Geto is now a respected tattoo artist whose style is very bold and usually black/white. He has his own tattoos that really speak to his identity over the years, being an artist, struggling to find his path, joining a gang, coming out as gay, etc.

Satoru was always in the back of his mind; the best friend who he never thought he’d part from. A lot of his art portfolio pieces were sketches he had refined that were originally inspired by Satoru... 

Meanwhile, Gojo has been studying to become a neurosurgeon, and is currently in residency. He’s very sharp, swamped with work, and takes great pride in helping his patients.

Gojo could not give less of a fuck about tattooing his skin, which is why he didn’t pay much attention to Shoko as she was showing their colleagues the social media page of the tattoo parlor she recently went to. The place is called Ink Domain, with three tattoo artists and one piercer to pick from. 

Who would’ve thought that when Shoko scrolls past the tattoo designs and onto a post introducing the employees, Gojo does the most wicked double-take that leaves a sting in his neck. 

Discreetly, Gojo scans the picture: he sees a man with purple makeup and twin buns, a younger man with pink hair smiling widely next to him, another man with pink hair and black markings on his face, and a woman with long blond hair who has her arm around the shoulders of a man in a baseball cap and black a face mask pulled over the lower-half of his face.

Black side bangs peek out from the cap.

Gojo stares hard at the last figure, a rush of complicated feelings pooling in his gut.

“Who did you say did your tattoo again?” Gojo shakily asks, holding his breath.

The moment the name “Geto Suguru” leaves Shoko’s lips, Gojo feels as if the air has been punched out of his gut.

***

Gojo thinks long and hard about what his next steps should be. Long and hard meaning he books a consultation appointment with Suguru for the next week.

Gojo is sweating. 

Why did he do that? Especially on one of the few days he doesn’t have to go in at the crack ass of dawn into the hospital? To get a consultation for a tattoo he hasn’t given a second thought about, with the best friend he lost touch with nearly a decade ago?

Gojo isn’t sure what he’s hoping to get out of this. He just… he’s missed Suguru, and wants to see how he’s doing.

When Gojo walks into the studio fifteen minutes before his appointment, a boy with pink hair and the name tag “Yuji” greets him. 

“Hi, welcome to Ink Domain. Do you have an appointment?” Yuji asks.

“Yes, a consultation appointment with Geto,” Gojo answers, feeling light-headed and ready to pass out. “My name is Kento Nanami.”

“Okay, checking you in riiight now, and yep! You’re good to go. You can wait on the couch, Geto-san will be with you shortly,” Yuji says brightly.

Gojo waits while anxiously tapping away at his phone, checking his calendar to make sure his shifts are all in order, then takes a look around and sees all the portraits of the artist’s past work - pictures of small moments that they seemed to want to frame. 

Before Gojo knows it, a tap on his shoulder has him looking up into familiar soft hazel eyes, narrowing in mischief.

Gojo swallows thickly, eyes sliding from Suguru’s signature bun and bangs combo, to the tattoos that peek out from his black t-shirt, and the muscles that strain the said t-shirt.

Suguru looks good. No, MORE than good. He looks fucking delectable, giving Gojo the same expression he’d give when he’d catch Gojo stealing his clothes whenever Gojo had slept over.

Oh ho ho, Gojo was screwed.

“Sorry for the wait, Kento,” Geto says while smirking. “Ready for your consultation appointment?”

Gojo stands up abruptly, choking out a weak “yep” to Geto’s question while the rest of his mind is too scrambled to say anything else. Geto chuckles, lifting his chin slightly once he noticed Gojo had surpassed him in height.

“All right, follow me into the back.”

Once they arrive at Geto’s station, Gojo plops his bum onto the patient seat.

Geto rummages around for his sketchbook, lightly lecturing: “Whose poor soul did you commit identity fraud against, Satoru?”

Gojo gives a small smile, happy to see Geto isn’t angry with him. 

“A friend. And a co-worker,” Gojo answers, crossing a leg over the other. Geto hums, searching his station for a pen, a pencil, and a sharpie. 

“Where is work for you?” Geto asks. He pauses for a moment, then remembers he had placed the sharpie in his bun, and proceeds to pull it out.

“JR Tokyo Hospital.”

“In Shibuya?”

Gojo nods, eyes following the way Geto’s biceps bulge when he brings a water bottle to his mouth, gulping it down quickly.

“I’m in residency right now. Gonna be a neurosurgeon,” Gojo says.

Geto’s eyes widen, and he puts his water bottle down.

“A neurosurgeon? Satoru, that’s- that’s amazing,” Geto says, voice filled with awe. He scoots his roller-chair close enough so their knees are a hair away from touching. “I always knew you were going to excel at whatever you pursued. But neuroscience? God, that’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

“Okay, okay stop. Enough about me. Believe it or not, I’m very much interested in what you’ve been up to. A tattoo artist? You never talked about wanting to tattoo!” Gojo exclaims.

Geto’s eyes crinkle, becoming bashful under the slightest amount of praise. As per usual.

“Yeah, well, I must say it was quite a road to get to this point. Doesn’t feel real, sometimes. Getting to do art and make a living out of it? And also loving what I do? I never imagined it before either, trust me,” Geto says, gaze becoming softer as he reflects on the past decade of his life.

It’s bittersweet, thinking about how much time has passed, spent without Satoru by his side. 

It’s never too late though. Satoru is here now, in his shop, listening to his every word.

Satoru and his brilliant brain, and drive to be the best, bound to do great things, which now includes being a fucking neurosurgeon! He’s insane, Geto thinks. Insane in the best way possible. 

Geto is so proud of him.

“But we can save that story for another time. After all, it’s a tattoo consultation you’re here for, isn’t it?” Geto questions, readying his pencil on his sketch pad.

Gojo wants to melt into the ground. Can't Suguru just drop it already?

But after sending a pleading lookover to his former best friend, expressing that he did not fucking come all this way (into a tattoo parlor) for a stupid tattoo, Geto still won’t bite. 

He’s gonna make me say it, Gojo thinks with vengeance. This bastard.

“What if we…skip the consultation part and…just talk?” Gojo suggests. He belatedly shoots two finger guns Suguru’s way for effect.

Geto raises a brow. “But you paid for a consultation.”

“No, I paid for your time,” Gojo clarifies, leg bouncing nervously waiting for Geto’s reaction. “And I would love to use it to catch up.”

Geto’s blinks once, then twice. Slowly, a fond smile spreads across his lips. He puts down the sketch pad, pen, and pencil - and slips the sharpie back into his bun.

“There’s this cafe down the street that I know you’ll love. Give me five minutes and we can head over together,” Geto says, standing up to reset his station.

“Gah! You remember! I hope they have mochi, maybe some cheesecake!” Gojo cheers, standing up as well. He readjusts his pants that had slipped down a little while he sat, then makes his way back to the front.

A hand on his wrist stops him.

“Satoru,” Geto says in his honeyed voice. Crystal blue eyes lock on the face that’s been the subject of bone-deep nostalgia and yearning that’s already made a home in Gojo’s heart. “I’ve missed you.”

Instead of answering, Gojo wastes no time in wrapping his arms around Geto’s shoulders, bringing him in for a long hug. Geto melts into the hug, as if it was the most natural thing on earth, holding Gojo’s waist because he was precious precious precious. 

He still smells the same, Gojo thinks. A little more mature, a little more cinnamon-y, but still the same Suguru.

“I missed you more,” Gojo murmurs, nudging his nose in Geto’s neck. “I’m sorry for losing touch.”

“Don’t be. I didn’t do the best job either,” Geto responds, rubbing comfortingly up and down Gojo’s back. “But we’re here now. You found me again, Satoru.”

“Hehe, I did, didn’t I?”

《2》

[successblueprints]

How I Deal with Tough Days When My Brain Won't Let Me Work

We all have those days where productivity feels impossible. It’s like no matter what we do, we just can’t seem to get started. I’ve come to realize that, for me, these days aren’t just about laziness or lack of motivation—it’s more complex. When I procrastinate, it’s often my creative brain, or what I like to call my “inner child,” throwing a tantrum.

Step 1: Understanding the Procrastination

The first thing I do is pause and try to understand what I’m running away from. Is it the overwhelming amount of work? In that case, I break it down into smaller, manageable bits. When the material feels boring, I add some fun—by creating colorful and funny interpretations of definitions or concepts. I turn words into weird characters, almost like a cartoon in my mind. Sometimes, I’ll turn it into a game, like seeing how many questions I can get right, or even trying new study techniques like rewriting a sentence or reading it out loud.

I find that when I’m bored, it’s a perfect opportunity to experiment. I might try drawing funny sketches of the material or use quirky interpretations to make it more interesting. The key is that I have to figure out what’s causing the procrastination—is it fear, perfectionism, or just the sheer volume of work?

Step 2: Naming My Inner Child

Once I understand what’s happening, I like to give my inner child a friendly name. This helps me communicate with it when things get tough. Every time I mess something up and feel like quitting, I know that it’s just my inner child reacting to the idea of perfectionism. Naming it makes it less scary, and I feel more in control of the situation.

A perfect example would be the time I noticed that my inner child shows up in my skincare routine, but not because I’m lazy—it's because I feel unmotivated when I don’t have enough of those colorful, trendy products, like the ones all over TikTok. You know, the Drunk Elephant skincare, with its fun packaging that every influencer seems to have. It taps into the same idea as “Sephora kids,” where even as adults, we’re drawn to overconsumption of things we don’t actually need, just because they’re colorful or trendy or aesthetically pleasing.

But I’ve realized that I don’t need fancy, colorful products to wash my face before bed. My inner child might crave those items, but recognizing that helps me let go of the unnecessary pressure to follow trends. I focus on the routine itself, rather than what’s missing from my shelf.

Step 3: Clearing the Distractions

Next, I clear my desk. Anything that’s not a school supply or a tool I need for work can be a distraction, especially if it’s colorful or unrelated to my task. I set a 5-minute timer and start working, just to show my inner child that it’s really not that scary. Once the timer’s up, I double it, taking short breathers in between. I repeat this until I feel like I’ve done enough for the day.

Step 4: Knowing When Enough Is Enough

After a certain point, I trust my own judgment. I ask myself honestly, “Is this enough for today?” If I feel like I’ve given it my best shot, I let go of the need to do more. I accept that some days will be harder than others, and that’s okay. The important thing is that I’m not fighting my inner child, but working with it.

It’s a simple process, but it’s effective. Instead of battling myself, I’ve learned to communicate with that part of me that gets overwhelmed, bored, or perfectionistic. By understanding and breaking things down, I can get through even the toughest days without feeling like I need to drop everything.

P.S.: I’ve struggled to stay productive most of my life, and a part of that was because I didn’t grow up in one of those aesthetically pleasing, western-style homes you always see on social media. I live in the Balkans, and my bedroom looked nothing like that. It wasn’t perfectly curated or full of trendy decor, but over time, I grew to love my culture and my surroundings. Even though I wasn’t the richest or living the most "aesthetic" lifestyle, I’ve learned that what I have is enough, and it doesn’t define my ability to be productive or happy.

[fairuzfan]

It's the zionist concern anon again. I will say for now that with what you said about prioritizing Palestinians I do agree. The people going through a genocide are a bigger priority than people who are not going through a genocide. I just fear that due to the fact I am neither Palestinian or Jewish that I may end up embracing stances that I do not actually understand and that innocent people may suffer because of it. I do not want to be irresponsible. I am also someone who lives in a country built on stolen land, so that does to some sort of extent influence my feelings on Isreal as I imagine many people in Isreal share my thoughts on the fact we have lived our entire lives on stolen land. As I said before, I also do not know any Palestinians personally so I find it hard to know who I can ask about the history, Hamas, technical details of politics, etc without risking being taught the wrong things. On a much more selfish note, I also struggle with debilitating mental health issues that make it very difficult to navigate moral issues especially if the moral issues do not impact me on a personal level. So if I am being honest, my questions are not entirely selfless as I have very self-centered fears on if I am actually a horrible person. I thank you again for being so understanding, but I figure the right thing to do here is admit I am likely not as pure intentioned in my questions as I should be when a large factor to why I worked up the courage to ask is in hope I am worrying too much about my quality of moral character from a selfish perspective. Again, I thank you for being so understanding and willing to answer these asks instead of just brushing me off as a horrible zionist.

I don't think you're a horrible person at all I just think everyone has underlying zionist biases because it's a product of the society we live in.

And I do understand where you're coming from, honestly. Something that always helps me is remembering something that my parents taught me as a kid: always stand on the side of the oppressed. Now as I grew up I realized you have to define what oppression means and I think exploring that will also help you get a better understanding of how to combat other forms of racism/antisemitism/transphobia/etc.

If you do want to learn about hamas tho, I would suggest taking a look at Tareq Baconi, he has a lot of writings about the history of Hamas and he's Palestinian. There are also Palestinian podcasts and social media accounts. I understand that not knowing a palestinian personally to help you guide yourself through these things is daunting, but there are plenty of resources to help! It's why I'm here on this blog honestly, I don't mind you reaching out to me for questions or anything.

A good principle to remind ourselves with is "how can I ensure that justice can be had?" And to find the answer to that you need to look into multiple types of antizionist thought. Some blogs I like to check out for a diverse antizionist opinion are @el-shab-hussein and @bringmemyrocks as a couple of examples. Plus I'd look to Black American thinkers on antiracism (like Angela Davis and James Baldwin and Kwame Ture) because they do a good job of showing you how to examine your internal biases which we are all subject to.

I don't think this selfish to want to be a good person. I have the same worries. I actually do get worried that sometimes I'm *actually* a bad person secretly without me realizing and I reach out to friends and family to talk it out. Something that helps me through this is realizing that you have to forgive yourself for previous beliefs you've had and promise yourself to do better because at the end of the day youre human and you make mistakes.

But really my biggest advice is to read and listen to a variety of schools of thought and if you can, interact with local communities dedicated to antiracism. Even if theyre digital communities! That will help a lot with identifying any problem points.

Again, feel free to reach out with any questions. I don't think you're a zionist at all! Please don't worry and thanks for reaching out :)

[bengiyo]

Marahuyo Project Eps 7 & 8 (Finale) Stray Thoughts

Last time, the kids struggled to pick a name for their LGBTQIA+ organization while discussing their strategy before the school board. They eventually decided to focus on connecting their hopes for the island's future with its past, and set about researching. Archie gave Venice some files from the church, Lorie looked through files her dad had, and Ino suggested interviewing people after providing equipment. We learned that Archie is struggling with the path to holy orders (manifested in his neck scratching), Ino said aloud that he was gay and kissed King, and Lili is probably intersex. Each of our our kids is holding confidence about this. Lili read Marco for filth, read him for blood, but unfortunately we left at Marco outing her.

Episode 7: Aswang

You know King isn't the violent type, because some of my people would have curb stomped his ass by now.

Oh, Ino. I understand.

Okay, Lili's story is so sad and lonely. I'm glad she told Lili before this.

Oof, Lorie was not ready for the friends to lovers kiss.

That was difficult, but King is right. He shouldn't ask Ino to come out, but it doesn't stop him from getting hurt.

King's grandmother is great. It's making me sad that Ino has no one else to talk to after that.

Wow, Marco is really doubling down on being an asshole.

I appreciate this show now disguising the kinds of casual homophobia you run into.

It's hard to recognize when you need to give someone you love space when you want to help.

I do like the idea of them reclaiming the balagtasan as a way to present their ideas to the island.

I knew it was Ino who graffitied the mural.

Gay people really will turn their relationship problems into a public spectacle.

This poetry is beautiful.

Oh, Ino, I'm proud of you.

My boy is bleeding!! Marco, it's on sight!!

Man, what a concise breakdown of how it feels to know your truth and have your caregivers try to stifle that in you for the sake of appearances.

Episode 8: Babaylan

Ino and King opening up old wounds.

Yes, King, tell your mom. Shame is learned at home. A kid can face the world if they're safe at home.

I love King so much for not sugarcoating how bad public scorn can get.

Swimming at night is very dangerous, but I'm always happy to receive an underwater kiss BECAUSE IT STILL BELONGS TO THE GAYS.

Oh good. Lorie and Lili are finally talking.

See, this is the thing about doing queer media versus making QL sometimes. Apologizing for loving someone is such a queer experience. Your love isn't something that you should be ashamed of, and you shouldn't have to apologize for caring a lot about someone.

This feels like the right place for these two as friends to possibly more.

Oh shit Lili got me when she held back tears at getting best friends.

It really is exhausting how hard authority works constantly to police and enforce heteronormativity. There are so few of us. Why is it always this constant bullshit?

Oof, I actually like this choice to have Archie vote to impeach Ino, become the new president, and then immediately return to the site where they honored Christina to cry about it. Venice understands that taking care of other queers is a long term project. At least Archie said her name.

Many of my beloved elders have passed. I wish I could talk to them sometimes. Especially Barry.

I love that Venice is eating in almost every scene.

Hey! They finally picked a name!

I love how homophobes talk about history, and then storm out when confronted with uncomfortable truths.

Crying over these outfits. They're so right. Formal acceptance by the status quo doesn't erase our existence, or the bonds between us. We will make space for ourselves and those like us.

Oh, Archie. I understand you, too. I hope you find peace with yourself and others.

I love Sue Prado, but does the mom really deserve to be here? I'll accept them trying to extend grace to struggling parents since Grandma has been with them the whole time.

This march works though. Before it was only three of them. Now look at them.

A post credits scene! Wait, I love the idea of Juvy and Jose going to visit them!

Final Verdict: 9.5, Finally Some Good Fucking Food. I am just so relieved to have another show from JP Habac. It's clear he and his friends have such strong ideas about where queer people fit in our society today, and I love that his work is never about defeating homophobia and is instead about connecting others to queer joy. Despite how this show stirred up all sorts of old hurts in me, I feel so much love for these characters, and I'm so thankful that I can point to a show with a wide spectrum of queer experiences delivered in such a beautiful package. It's so rare to see a show treat the closet seriously, and I will be thinking about this show forever, alongside JP's previous work: Gaya sa Pelikula (aka Like in the Movies).

[adriberry]

Vil Shoenheit in the Years Before

summary: This is Vil Shoenheit in the years before his overblot.

characters: Vil Shoenheit, Neige LeBlanche, Leona Kingscholar, Rook Hunt, Ruggie Bucchi

cw: LeoVil (but toxic), language, suggestive (?)

a/n: This is another one of those headcanon dumps that took the form of a fic. This one is shorter than my Leona one, but Leona was at the school for an extra year than Vil was and I'd like to think his time at NRC is not nearly as dramatic. Vil's time at work on the other hand...

Reminder that this can be standalone or be read alongside the fics of other characters mentioned. You can find them on my Twisted Wonderland Masterlist.

If you asked Vil if being in show business since he was a child had any negative effects on him, he’d deny it. Vil wasn’t exactly one to lie, but this was the one exception he supposed. It wasn’t all bad, really- learning to always play the role, to be on at all times because you never know who’s watching, to maintain a perfect reputation for future employers, paparazzi, and fans. These were helpful skills in his trade which he worked hard to perfect. And it could have been worse. Vil had seen plenty of young actors grow up to have all sorts of identity issues and he clearly knew who exactly he was, but there was one lasting ache in his chest that could have been the result of working in the way he did: he craved nothing more than to be the best, though he also knew it needed to be a title that was earned. 

Vil spent his whole life on movie sets, watching as his father made a name for himself in Maquillaville by clawing his way from being the pretty boy hunk of a casting choice to a multi-media mogul. And Vil was so beautiful himself, even as a child, that it was natural to follow in his father’s footsteps. It was also natural to take every one of his father’s successes as a personal challenge. After all, if Vil was set to be the best in everything he did, this included outdoing his father’s legacy on his own terms one day. 

Though Vil never needed to invent new ways to keep himself on his toes when honing his craft since the entertainment industry itself presented its own challenges. He had the unfortunate pleasure of a short run of films playing opposite Neige LeBlanche, a pesky up and coming ingenue the public adored. Gossip rags couldn't get enough of LeBlanche’s story of being plucked from obscurity, having a tragic upbringing with several foster siblings, and still having the ability to ooze a saccharine kindness despite years of struggle. Now normally Vil never cared for what a few trashy magazines had to say, but the public’s constant defense and support of LeBlanche quickly got under Vil’s skin. What appeared to be a mere fleeting fascination with a new actor turned into complete adoration overnight- an adoration hardly earned compared to the work that Vil had put in for a decade. And this fact ate at him, leaving him with the hollow ache he’d known since he was a child. 

For Vil, to be just handed something was an insult, so when the invitation to attend Night Raven College arrived, he had just the slightest hint of doubt about exactly why he was invited. He was a talented young mage, of course, but he was also a high-profile celebrity that would bring a lot of publicity to an already world-renowned institution. Through this initial reaction, Vil quickly envisioned the opportunity before him. This was an excuse to retreat- not necessarily to give up the publicity battle but to further his goals outside of being in front of the camera: an eventual empire of film production and cosmetics development. Vil was just taking a break to focus on his education, nothing more. Being away from the public reminder that someone young, new, and flashy would usually win out in his line of work was a pleasant bonus. Besides, Night Raven would look fantastic on a resume. Vil accepted the invitation figuring it was an equivalent exchange. 

Vil was sorted into Pomfiore, which was an exciting honor though somewhat unsurprising for him, but the most memorable moment of the night occurred when Leona Kingscholar, the drop dead gorgeous Housewarden of Savanaclaw could not take his eyes off Vil the whole night. Naturally, Vil approached him to flirt and charm but he didn’t think anything of it other than a chance to see this beautiful boy up close. That was until Leona came calling a few days later. The thought of a relationship never crossed Vil’s mind. He was always too busy with work and now with school to even attempt having a partner. But the feeling of being chosen by the hottest student at Night Raven was just too good a thrill to pass up. So even if he didn’t feel he had time for a real relationship, a fling would do just as well.  

Vil made it clear to Leona up front what he wanted, and it seemed like they were on the same page for a short while, but the two were like oil and water most of the time. All they’d do was bicker and usually Leona would be the one to start it. He was just so frustrating with the way he’d constantly skip class and then have the gall to ask Vil to come along. Plus, for a prince, he was hardly put together most of the time and he’d whine every time Vil pointed it out. And it wouldn’t have hurt Leona to actually take him someplace decent on a nice date before fucking him... Not that the activity itself wasn’t incredibly enjoyable. 

Vil often turned up at Savanaclaw, but wouldn’t stay longer than to fight with or make out with Leona before leaving. He avoided most of the muscle headed brutes that resided there but one of them eventually trailed along behind him. Rook Hunt, one of the rare human residents of Savanaclaw with a level of biting snark and sarcasm that would make you think otherwise, was unwanted company at first. In fact, one of the first things Rook attempted conversation about was Neige LeBlanche. Though Vil had only just sat down for lunch, he immediately stood, threw out his food, and left the dining hall to go seethe in private at Pomfiore.  

Not even a week later, Rook appeared beside him out in the courtyard while Vil was getting some fresh air after another spat with Leona. Rook was apologetic for being forward during their first meeting, which seemed to be a rare trait amongst Savanaclaw students, but them immediately began inundating Vil with unsolicited advice, claiming that he was a fan. And as much as it annoyed Vil, he couldn’t even be all that upset since each critique was incredibly spot on. It took a while for him to admit it out loud though. Besides, Rook was quite pretty underneath the acne, ratty clothes, and greasy hair. Any time the two would run into each other, they would exchange advice: Rook with commentary on Vil’s work and Vil with commentary on what Rook could improve physically. He took the criticisms so much better than Leona did, anyway. 

And Vil really did find Rook’s suggestions and observations to heart since he was still working while he could. Though long movie and television shoots were out of the question with his current school schedule, Vil could still model on occasion as well as collaborate with brands to create influencer content. He enjoyed generating and pitching ideas for content and the creative and time freedoms which came with it. Making videos in the comfort of his dorm between study sessions in cafes in town, the rare peaceful lunch date with Leona, and film research club meetings- Vil had always lived a life of celebrity, so he had to imagine that the calm, mundanity of his current lifestyle was what it felt like to be a normal person. It was a shame he had let his guard down. 

The interview came across Vil’s Magicam feed first thing in the morning. It was Neige, who was only a year younger than Vil, talking about how he missed his senior on this movie shoot and press tour of all things. He was sickly sweet as usual, but just a few sentences of his hit Vil like a truck: 

“Vil has really inspired me! You know, I’m hoping to go to a mage academy just like him next year. That means I’ll also need to take a hiatus to focus on my studies, too.” 

The comment section was filled with praise for LeBlanche’s maturity and steadfastness. People wept over not seeing Neige in major projects for a whole four years and vowed to continue to support his endeavors. Algorithms are a bitch so once Vil saw one clip of the interview, it was everywhere: constant reminders of how the public beloved this over-sentimental, fresh-faced child and were ready to forget the seasoned entertainer that they had already known for a decade. That familiar ache reared its ugly head. Something inside Vil snapped, and his new preoccupation was trying to hide what broke from those around him. 

Vil doesn’t remember how his and Leona’s final fight started, but he knows that it was likely something minor as most of their arguments did. But Vil had been in a sourer mood than usual which set off Leona. They were at Savanaclaw so all his dorm-mates heard everything and watched as Vil stormed off. The two avoided each other for the next few weeks. Vil was grateful for the brief peace and anytime he’d spot Leona somewhere he was miserable anyway. 

It was hard for Vil to admit, but he was lonely during that time. Rook didn’t even show up at their usual spot in the quad. He had to track the boy down and almost begged for some commentary on a self-tape he completed earlier. And Rook, with his incredible ability to see nearly anything, understood what didn’t need to be said out loud. The two stuck together like glue after that. They took to each other so well in fact that Rook put in for a nearly impossible dorm reassignment and it passed. It was just as well though since Rook had a habit of running his mouth a bit too much and apparently had exchanged words with Leona. 

They broke things off at the end of the spring semester. There was just too much on Vil’s plate at the time and Leona’s moping certainly didn’t help things, so Vil initiated the end. A weight lifted off Vil’s shoulders but as for Leona... well, Vil was incredibly surprised the two were both second years come the next school year. 

Vil’s second year went off with much less drama than the first since he was truly able to balance his priorities. He was announced as Housewarden of Pomfiore at the end of his Summer Semester to go into effect this year, after all. He had already set a good example of the kind of tenacity expected of their dorm, so Vil kept his daily schedule much more exact. Having Rook as Vice Housewarden greatly helped. 

Vil was, on occasion, tempted by the gorgeous Lion again since they ran into each other during Housewarden meetings. A full summer without time together, even with their last moments alone being awful, unfortunately did make the heart grow fonder. What harm would it be to steal away after a meeting and make out behind the botanical garden every once in a while? It couldn’t become a habit of theirs once Leona’s new lackey kept intruding and cock-blocked the two.  

Vil supposed it was for the best since Leona was still so hyperfocued on the events of last years’ and the current years’ Magift tournaments. He didn’t have time to coddle his ex about a silly little game while he had a career to worry about. LeBlanche started his own entertainment hiatus that year, so this was Vil’s chance to get a leg up on his competition, determined to not fall out of the public eye. His morning checks of social media were more of a drive than a dose of caffeine even though they became more frequent during the day over the course of the year. 

All this and Vil stayed booked and busy, up to his third year, pushing down and ignoring that hungry, hollow ache. He figured his plans for the SDC come Spring Semester would finally put a stop to it anyway. 

[armoreddragon]

how did you first get into making this stuff? do you enjoy it?

There's a lot of possible answers here.

For a couple years after college, I worked at a laser engraving and cutting shop. Leather was a material we knew we could cut, but nobody ever asked for it, so I looked up some basic info and put together some masks as demo pieces. Then I got fired for unrelated reasons, but decided to keep going with the masks on my own. A decade later, I’m still going.

I've always enjoyed making things. The focused calm of working a craft, the challenge of finding the problems that need solving, followed by the satisfaction of holding in your hands something that hadn't exited before. It’s hard to beat that feeling. If you haven’t done it for a while, I highly recommend making a habit of it.

Sometime in college I realized that if I kept making things just for myself, I would eventually run out of both space in my closet and money in my bank account. So I took the best photos I could of what I had, and started posting it up on Etsy.

In high school ceramics class, I had an idea to try and make a flexible dragon skin out of little bits of clay, all glazed differently. I had no idea how to do this. A friend of mine was like "Yo it sounds like you want to look up how to make chainmail for that." She was right.

I work in architecture by day, and the decision to do that was unrelated but definitely related to my crafting obsession. Designing a kitchen, a café, a house, takes months or years of work, most of which is tedious details like picking tile patterns or looking up exactly what order to layer different sealant tapes to make sure the walls are watertight. Designing a crafting project gives me a creative outlet that is immediate. I can sit down for an afternoon and take an idea from a sketch on trace paper, to a final mask formed up out of leather. There's an excitement to that. A reminder that, yes, I can make cool stuff quickly, without needing to sink two years into a project.

For a while I worked to teach myself to draw. I managed to get pretty decent at sketching from life, with a moderate understanding of anatomy and perspective. I liked art, so I thought I wanted to make art. But I struggled with it. If I was drawing something from my imagination, no matter how well I managed to put the lines down on the paper, I would ultimately look at it and just be sad that it didn't exist in the real world. So eventually I gave up on the drawing part, and focused on the part I seemed to actually care about.

I can't envision a version of myself that doesn't make things. I think on some fundamental level, I measure my worth as a person based on what I put forth into the world. I don't know what else to do.

When you decide to turn a hobby into a business, it of course takes some of the delight away. It's no longer something you do when you want to relax and have some fun. It becomes an obligation, to make and ship orders on time, to pack up your stuff and bring it to craft fairs, to track your expenses and file your taxes, to stay on top of the constantly changing social media landscape. But it also lights a fire under your ass. You can't just keep making the same thing you made three years ago–you have to keep making new stuff, keep improving your techniques, keep reaching for new ideas that have never been made before. You lose some of the joy, but you gain a lot of satisfaction.

All through my childhood I filled my closet with little handicrafts kits, that I got as gifts or that caught my eye when following my dad to the art store. Calligraphy, wood carving, weaving looms, boondoggles, spirographs, knitting, crochet, fancy nautical knots, sculpey, and more that I can't remember. After all those different things, I’m so glad that I found a couple specific crafts that really grabbed me, that take enough work to develop expertise, that have expansive enough applications and possibilities, that I could devote a decade or more of my time to focusing on them.

I’d been interested in the furry fandom ever since little fantasy reading teenager me tried looking for stories where the dragons were the main characters, and I found people online who were doing just that. There’s a powerful do-it-yourself attitude that’s baked into the core of the fandom: The world isn’t giving us the art that we want, so we’re going to make it ourselves. I keep having ideas for things that I want, that don’t exist yet. If I want them to exist, I have to be the one to make them.

My dad was a photographer, and I spent many childhood afternoons with him in his darkroom in the basement, delightedly washing negatives, turning them gently over in their canisters of chemicals, sitting still in the dark as Dad unspooled the sensitive film, squinting in the red light as the projected images magically re-emerged on the clean white paper. What could be more amazing, more normal, more right, than having your own little space to work such magic for yourself.

In about 2008 or 9 I ordered my first batch of metal scales, with the idea of trying to make a dragon tail in time for Halloween. It took probably a couple weeks to figure out how to make it, and within a week I had thought of how to do it better and disassembled the entire thing. By the 3rd or 4th time I'd rebuilt it, I thought that it was probably good enough that I wouldn't feel embarrassed to post it online and see if someone might want to buy it.

Of course I love working on these things I make. But I don't think that's exactly why I make them.

[animehouse-moe]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks....

You're all good! This is the first time I've been asked this. I'm usually terrible with favorites so I always feel like I don't pick the "best" in hindsight, but I'll try to be as accurate as possible. These will also be in no particular order since they all occupy such different areas.

(edit: I just realized in my incredible morning brain state that this said male or female, but I only read the female part haha. So this is just the female lineup, I guess).

Iwakura Lain - Serial Experiments Lain

Lain's a character that has, and will always remain enigmatic. Subjectivity and personal experience remain intertwined with works like Serial Experiments Lain, so what each individual takes away from it will change. Personally, what makes me love Lain is her desperation to communicate, to connect with the people around her. To make friends, to do fun things with them, to understand the people that comprise her life. But that desire spirals, she gets absorbed (like so many do) and becomes something else entirely. Fracturing and separating herself, spreading those instances across the internet in a desperate way to connect. For existing prior to essentially all forms of social media, it depicts the struggle and addiction that trouble countless people in freakishly accurate fashion.

Iwakura Mitsumi - Skip and Loafer

Had to put them next to each other on this list haha. Iwakura Mitsumi though. I don't hate the approach of a lot of Shojosei in terms of high school slice of life/romance, but I find much more to love with the more grounded ones than the more fantastical, just a personal preference. Anyways, Mitsumi. She's just the perfect representation of high school life. A dash of confidence, a good bit of deep seated anxiety, lots of stress over school and friends, but a positive and hopeful outlook in spite of her stumbling and struggles that's wonderfully accented by blossoming feelings of love. She just occupies a space that is very rare these days, so of course I love her.

Ryougi Shiki - The Garden of Sinners

Okay, hot take since (spoiler) Saber's not going to be on the list. I just haven "completed" Saber's story if that makes sense. I've read a lot, experienced a lot, but I haven't gotten 100% of it like I have with Shiki. That said, Shiki's story. I mean, as a character they're so damn hard to really capture. After all, there's more than one of them, and their story is told through the experiences of others. Shiki as a character, and The Garden of Sinners as a series, just holds a special place in my heart as Nasu's first real creative work that remains untethered by the requirements of a visual novel. If Nasu's work on the VNs is the base level, then The Garden of Sinners stands a cut above from start to finish.

Hatsuseno Alpha - Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou

A robot that is startlingly human, but surprisingly childlike. Alpha was is just the perfect vehicle to experience YKK through. Vast understanding and interest, but meaningful naivete and curiosity. She explores a world peacefully accepting its death, and is able to pull such beautiful moments from it. She doesn't struggle or bemoan the end, but rather takes it in stride and focuses on the beauty of humanity, how it's adapted, what's been lost and what's been created in its stead. It brings it all together under this character that is so deeply passionate about exploring life even under these circumstances, that you can't help but feel an indescribable warmth in her story.

Biwa - Heike Monogatari

Okay, maybe I'm cheating a little bit with Biwa here, but it's just a character that I think is incredibly beautiful. Witnessing the murder of her father, she's taken in by a clan doomed to death, where a man possesses a similar ability to Biwa. Together, she struggles to create the family she never had, all the while forced to come to terms with their deaths. She fights tooth and nail to keep them alive, but her attempts are futile. In the end, she is given her adoptive father's ability and completes what one might call the "cycle". Seeing life and death, the eternal struggle that will never change, she experiences her life, her family, her future and past to its fullest, and commits her life to telling the story of the Heike that she was so fond of. It's a beautiful story centered around Biwa's experiences, and her fear of death and not having a family, truly wonderful stuff. Also Aoi Yuuki kills it as Biwa.

Kusanagi Motoko - Ghost In The Shell

This was baby's first big kid series for me. I'd always watched anime here and there, but mostly things like Bleach/Naruto/DBZ. Ghost in The Shell was the first really big series I'd dip my toes into via those 4 minute YouTube videos at 480p. Kusanagi's nature as the bridge between technology and humanity is endlessly explored and just such a great idea, that through the countless (good) iterations, there's a wealth of her to experience. Undoubtedly an iconic series, and one that's certainly remembered very fondly by me.

Kirigoe Mima - Perfect Blue

Mima's an incredible character driven to the psychological breaking point. Under the scrutiny and pressure of being an idol, the facade begins to crack and what seeps out from the gaps is nothing short of incredible. Satoshi Kon remains a wizard in what he did with his works, and for me, Mima's character in Perfect Blue is the pinnacle of that. An implicit story of the stress and strain placed on idols (and the entertainment industry at large) by those that string them up and sell the souls of these girls, Perfect Blue and Mima remain in a realm of their own in a lot of ways.

Nozomi - Sonny Boy

Well as they say, the proof is in the pudding, and the pudding in this case is Nozomi's name. Translating from Japanese it means "wish" or "desire" in English, and is the personification of Nozomi's role in Sonny Boy. As close to a catalyst as one can be, she spurs on the wishes of the characters around her, providing the foundation for our main character Nagara to grow and develop. In the end, the desires of each individual can be connected to Nozomi, even in her death. She's arguably more central to the plot of Sonny Boy than Nagara, so of course I see her as a deeply special character.

Kamikoshi Sorawo - Otherside Picnic

A somewhat different pick to help round out the list. Sorawo Kamikoshi, and Otherside Picnic at large, are certainly things that I don't think most people would fall in love with. But I did. The vitriol that her character expresses, the toxicity and self hatred and destruction. Her character is a very damaging and "bad" one, but that's what I love about it. There's no grand scheme behind Sorawo's personality, or any ideal that her character chases. She follows the whims and curiosities of her life as she willingly casts herself into the abyss of the Otherside alongside Toriko, and along the way, she learns to slowly grow and improve as a person while maintaining her core personality.

Osaki Nana - Nana

The duality of Nana as a character is just so well done to me. A character with two sides isn't anything special, but I think the way that Yazawa approaches her as a character, and introduces those cracks in her façade and the struggle that they represent is just really, really good. It has me really desperate for Yazawa to return from hiatus and continue on with Nana.

And that's the list. I know I've left off characters like Tohru or other massively popular (and well written) leads and characters from shojosei series, but a lot of what I desire out of a character can't quite be found in a lot of what ends up popular and translated (and what I tend to remember) I feel. If you take a look at the list, for example, you'll find that the majority of my favorites are from older series, as well as ones that feature more "tragic" or "twisted" characters. Personally, I find a flower most beautiful after you've understood how it's wilted and withered before it fights to bloom once more. Endless blooms that grant an eternal summer are undeniably beautiful, but that beauty tends to lack context and in turn can become simplicity. So that's my list, as imperfect and everchanging as it is. If I'm asked once more in a year, it will probably look startlingly different, but that's how these things will go with me.

[mineofilms]

Perfection is just another kind of fake

Faking It: On the Ethics of Fake Musicianship, Perfection Culture, and Why Intention is Important

This isn't gonna be some finely tuned thinkpiece or perfectly structured deep dive. It's more like a sprawl of thoughts I've been having while in a two-week mental and creative rut. I am sitting there watching Adam Neely's The Ethics of Fake Guitar and thinking back on my own creative past and present. I’m not here to lecture anyone on how to do it, and I’m not pretending I’ve got a definitive answer to anything, but I do have a compass, and that compass always points to intentionality. I still feel all I have that is truly my own is intentionality. So let’s talk about what it means to fake something, what it means to chase perfection, and what happens when the internet—and especially social media—gets ahold of all of that and changes that intention to an expectation. With that expectation based on a lie for monetary gain.

Part 1: NO-Budget Filmmaking, Perfection Culture, and Reflections in the Mud

I went to film school from 1999 to 2004. A community college that no longer exists. Part-time. Full-time job just to stay afloat, and I was lucky enough to have family that kept a roof over my head and a plate of food in front of me. But camera gear? Editing bays? Glossy production? Even Time… Forget it. I was scrapping together Mini-DV setups and busted PCs, praying they wouldn’t crash before I could save the project file. That’s where I come from—NO-budget filmmaking. Capital N-O. That mindset never left me. After college I struggled to find stable employment. I basically kept truckin’ along filming what I could and make something out of it. I still make things with what I have. If something sucks in the final product, it’s not because I didn’t care. It’s because I couldn’t afford better. And even if I could, I probably wouldn’t obsess over it. I care more about what I’m trying to say than how glossy it looks. People chasing that “Aesthetic of Perfection” are chasing ghosts. They’re chasing a version of a thing they think they saw, not what’s actually there. Could be a statement on our human society experiment. What happens if you stop chasing that and start creating from where you are instead?

Because Here’s the Truth: Perfection is Just another Kind of Fake.

Part 2: The Line Between Editing and Faking Ain’t as Clear as People Pretend

Now let’s get into the thick of it. Is editing a live performance “faking”? Depends. If you’re just sweetening the sound—cleaning up the EQ, leveling things out, maybe patching a glitchy mic—that’s post-production, not deception. I don’t think anyone should be faulted for wanting to make their performance presentable. Especially if they’re filming on a cell phone in a garage or bar with poor sound and/or acoustics.

YouTube’s compression algorithm noticeably degrades audio quality during upload, especially in the higher frequencies—cymbals, vocals, and clarity tend to get flattened. After extensive trial and error, I found that exporting the final video using VSDC in the .mkv format with PCM S16LE audio encoding preserved far more of the original sound. Unlike standard .mp4 exports with AAC compression, which YouTube compresses more aggressively, the .mkv + PCM combo seems to bypass some of that automatic degradation. It’s not perfect, but the improvement is real—especially for trained ears—and it’s become my go-to method for getting cleaner audio onto the platform. That's not me trying to deceive anyone. That's me working with the limitations, trying to squeeze as much juice out of the lemon as I can with the controls I have. But yeah, if you’re miming along to a studio-recorded track and selling it as live, you’re crossing into a different territory. And here’s where it gets messy: It’s not just what you do, it’s how you frame it. Your, ‘intention…’ If you tell the audience what you’re doing, most people are cool with it. It’s the hiding part that rubs people wrong. Transparency covers a lot of ethical ground. The ones that actually can do these amazing things. They worked incredibly hard to get there. AND in many cases most of them never really got the recognition and real profits from their work, which they should be credited and even paid in my more cases than not.  

Part 3: Social Media and the Great Monetization Lie

Here’s where the whole thing twists into something nastier. This drive for perfection—this impulse to fake your way through—it’s not happening in a vacuum. Social media monetization has created an entire ecosystem where people aren’t making art anymore. They’re not even really making products. They’re making content. And more specifically, they’re selling themselves as content. Their personality, their lifestyle, their vibe.

Somewhere between 13 and 45, an entire generation got convinced that if you were fun at parties and worked retail that one summer, you were just a ring light away from being a brand ambassador. What they’re selling isn’t just a product—it’s the belief that if they say it’s cool, it must be cool. And sometimes? That works. Some people can sell that illusion. But most people can’t. Most end up chasing something that was never actually real to begin with: the idea that charisma alone can substitute for experience, skill, or hard-earned credibility. What we’ve ended up with is this fake hustle culture. People “working hard” on building their brand—but it’s all image. It’s cinematic. You know how movie characters only face the parts of life that move the plot forward? Nobody in a movie spends three hours troubleshooting why their WiFi won’t connect to the printer. That’s what we’re doing now. We’re cutting out all the unglamorous stuff—the years of grind, the failed attempts, the dead ends—and presenting a highlight reel as if it were a documentary.

And the result? People think they’re working hard, but they’re not actually doing anything. Because in real life—especially with tech, with music, with film—you have to know what you're doing. There’s work involved. But the illusion sold on social media says you don’t need that. You just need to be seen doing the work.

And this is the part that really gets under my skin: what people now call “influence” or “reach” used to be called resources. It was marketing budget. It was connections. It was a studio or a label or some angel investor quietly bankrolling the whole thing while pretending it was just some quirky girl in her bedroom making videos on her phone. It’s not grassroots. It’s AstroTurf. There’s a whole industry out here trying to convince you that these influencers are “just like you,” and some are. However, in many cases the reality is they’ve got deep-pocketed support, production teams, and years of unseen infrastructure propping them up.

What they’re selling isn’t a product, or even a skill. They’re selling belief. They want you to buy into them. And that’s wild to me. That’s televangelist territory. And yeah—not everyone online is doing this. There are legit creators, legit businesses, real product testers that influence product trends.

A “confidence game,” or con, is a method of manipulation where someone gains your trust (your "confidence") in order to exploit it. It's not always about outright lying—it's about framing something believable enough to get you to invest, commit, or act… even if what you're committing to has no real foundation. This solely operates on trust and belief, not substance—a more nuanced and stronger word for it could be is "speculative branding" or more sharply, "belief-based marketing." A term that captures the illusion of substance—where the product is really just the belief in the product—without a clear product, goal or vision.

This type of influencing has now krept into the social media world of performance art like guitarists, drummers, even vocalists, all trying to sell the idea that if you "buy in," you’ll be part of something profitable.

But in truth:

The asset is often unproven.

The odds of success are downplayed or hidden.

The story is polished to hide the risk.

You're investing in their ability to attract others, not in a tangible return.

This is classic con structure:

Gain trust through charisma, social proof, or flashy success stories.

Present belief as product, appealing to your emotions or FOMO.

Shift risk onto the buyer, while keeping the seller insulated.

Profit off belief, not substance.

But like anything else—music, politics, religion—the scene gets polluted by people who are just gaming the system. You see it in politics all the time. New tax law drops? Within a week someone’s already figured out a loophole. That’s the American tradition now: don’t work harder, just find the cheat code. Circumvent the rules so you can look better than you actually are. Especially online, where one rarely has to actually prove anything they do. Numbers, views, hearts, likes, even comments can be generated by AI in mass to manipulate how much “influence” a channel, account, business or single person has. That mindset has bled into how we think about success. It’s no longer about doing the most logical, skilled, or creative thing to reach your goal. It’s about finding the path of least resistance that still looks good on camera.

So yeah—when someone fakes a guitar solo, or mimics a live performance, or cuts corners in post and sells it as raw talent, it’s not just annoying—it’s part of a bigger problem. It’s another symptom of a culture that values perception of substance over actual, real substance.

Part 4: Intention Matters More Than Tools

Let me be clear—I’m not anti-AI. Not even close. Hell, this whole essay was structured with the help of AI. When I’ve got too many thoughts colliding in my head and can’t quite nail the phrasing, I bounce ideas off it. I test tone. I reorganize arguments. I care deeply about semantics, and sometimes it helps me not butcher my own meaning. That’s a gift, not a threat. I’m also a scatterbrain, if I’m being real. And AI helps me reign it in. That doesn’t mean it wrote this. It means it helped me shape this. Like a co-writer, or an assistant editor. I’m still driving—it just helped clean the windshield.

What bugs me isn’t people using AI. It’s people pretending they didn’t. Acting like every word or note or design choice sprang perfectly from their untouched genius. Like, why? Most content isn’t made by one person anymore. It’s usually a team, or at least a couple of close collaborators. If your buddy helped with camera work or gave you feedback on your mix, you’d thank them. You’d credit them. So why wouldn’t you do the same with AI, if it helped shape the thing? And honestly, I don’t even mind if AI does a lot of the work. Sometimes that’s necessary. Sometimes that’s how you get unstuck or get something done at all. But just say so. Give the tool its due. Don’t slap your name on an AI-written book like you typed it all out on a typewriter in a cabin. That’s not authenticity. That’s performance.

Same deal with music production. You want to use backing tracks, drum machines, pitch correction—do it. We’ve been doing that since the tape deck. But be up front. Don’t roll out a video where you look like you’re playing note-for-note perfection when it’s really comped to hell and back. The problem isn’t the tool. It’s the pretending. It’s the whole “fake it and act like you’re not faking it” loop we keep finding ourselves in.

But—and this is important—I also get the weird beauty in it. Sometimes the fake stuff does lead to real growth. A kid sees a faked guitar solo, and maybe they don’t know it’s fake, but it lights a fire. They want to play like that. They go chasing that sound. And in the process, they get good. Really good. Better than the faker, even. That’s the contradiction. That’s where I agree with someone like Rick Beato or Adam Neely—it’s complicated. Sometimes the illusion plants real seeds and the fruits from those seeds we all enjoy and get emerged in. And that’s not nothing. That absolutely is something.

So I don’t think it’s a question of “should you use AI or not.” It’s about your intention. Are you trying to express something? Or are you just trying to appear impressive? That’s what separates art from content. One is a reflection of the self. The other is a pitch deck with candy flavored vibes.

Part 5: Genre Codes, Gatekeeping, and the Woke Redefinition Game

The genre stuff at the end of that video? Yeah, that wasn’t just noise to me. What Adam Neely was getting at is that a genre or sub-genre isn’t just a checklist of sounds and styles—like tempo, tuning, instrument choice or technique—it’s a kind of social contract. A shared code among a community about what’s authentic, what’s fake, what’s sacred. And that hit home for me. I’m a metalhead. I’ve watched these battles happen in real-time—arguments over what counts as “real” metal, or who gets to fly the flag of some niche sub-genre like they invented it. Is deathcore “true” death metal? Is nü-metal a joke or a gateway drug? Is Djent a sub-genre at all or just a sound, like an effect? The tribal lines are drawn in every comment section. But here’s the twist: this isn’t just about sound. It’s about values. Identity. Cultural territory. That used to be messy enough on its own. Now throw in woke subculture, and the whole thing gets distorted beyond recognition.

Woke thinking—at least how I see it—tries to take minority arguments and attempt to make them majority arguments. Take a widely agreed-upon bad idea, strip away some of the baggage, repackage it with newer language, and then scold anyone who doesn’t clap along. It’s not progress. It’s marketing. And now it’s invading art, music, genre, and scene dynamics. Suddenly, people aren’t just fighting over whether a band fits a sub-genre. They’re fighting over whether that genre itself is problematic because of what someone said on a podcast or tweeted in 2007 about social dynamics at that specific time to them. You’ll see this play out in ways that sound harmless at first. Someone says a genre is “too masculine” or “too violent” or “too whiney,” and suddenly, the subculture has to shift to accommodate a narrative that was never really part of the music’s DNA. These criticisms start as niche takes, but thanks to social media and algorithmic validation, they balloon into mandates. Then comes the guilt-tripping, the digital shaming, the weird re-education process: This sub-genre is actually about this now, and if you don’t agree, you’re a bigot, gatekeeper, insert buzzword here.

And if you push back? You’re “toxic.” You’re being “negative.” “Out of touch.” Just another troll who doesn’t “get it.” Never mind that the whole point of subculture was to resist conformity in the first place.

It’s like every genre has to go through a weird spiritual audit now. Not just “what does this sound like?” but “what does this say about your politics? You as a person?” Which is insane. Music is supposed to be a place for escape, for release, for raw emotional reaction and entrainment—not a damn TED Talk with fake playing guitar solos.

And then there’s this individualist twist where people experience one thing, and suddenly they try to rewrite the entire genre canon around their feelings. “Well, I listened to X and it helped me through Y, so now this genre is about Z.” I get that it meant something to you. That’s valid. No one is saying one or a few cannot come together and share this thing in a different light. But your emotional reaction doesn’t overwrite the cultural framework that genre came from. Not every genre needs to be soft and affirming. Not every lyric needs to be therapy. Some of it’s supposed to be ugly, aggressive, nihilistic—because that’s what it’s channeling. We’ve got a generation trying to fix things that were never broken to begin with. And what we lose in the process is the texture, the risk, the rawness that made these subcultures worth fighting for. You can’t remap black metal or punk or horrorcore through some feel-good HR training lens. You’ll sand off everything that made it matter.

Community norms didn’t collapse because people stopped caring. They collapsed because people started pretending anything goes as long as you can spin a social virtue out of it and gas light people into treating you like a victim. When you are a victim of your own making. It’s not creativity. It’s control—dressed up in the language of inclusion. And I’m not saying “keep things pure” like some frothing elitist. I’m saying stop treating cultural identity like it’s a choose-your-own-adventure morality tale. Some things actually have context. History. Meaning. Rules. That’s what makes them genres. That’s what makes them powerful. Its ok to change things. That is what sub-genres are for. A variation of the original with nuanced twists. Nü-metal isn’t a joke or a gateway drug to nonsense-core but a nuance of fusion from a decade before. That is all nü-metal is; a fusion of different styles and it was heavy and closer to metal than hip-hop, funk, electro or reggae. At the time it was a huge shift from where metal was in the 1990s. The labeling name makes sense. That is how these things happen. But more importantly ‘why’ they happen.

Part 6: In the End, It’s Still About Intention

Look. I’m not here to say don’t fake anything. I’m saying know why you’re doing it.

If the goal is to share an idea, an emotion, a perspective—and you’re using every tool you’ve got to get that across—cool. Go for it. Cheat the lighting, filter the hell out of it, remix, repackage, whatever. If it’s in service of something real, that intention comes through.

But if the goal is to game the system, farm dopamine, and dress up clout-chasing as “authenticity”? That’s not creativity. That’s commerce wearing a cosplay wig. That’s performance art with no art. And yeah, the internet’s always had fakery—but now we’ve got people with delusions of grandeur being handed tools that amplify those delusions at scale. Taking away from real creators just trying to get some momentum in life with the talents and creative things they do. To fake it to directly take away from lesser people’s efforts and propped one’s self higher than they actually are is the worst kind person out there. The damage isn’t just in the trick—it’s in pretending there wasn’t a trick to begin with.

Social media was supposed to be a quick peek into someone’s day. A way to stay connected during the in-between moments of life. But now it is the day. It’s the job. It’s the hustle. It’s a 24/7 grind machine full of fake smiles, fake stories, fake lives—people living like avatars of their best guesses at what other people might want to click on. This isn’t a shot at real salespeople with real track records who just adapted to new platforms. Sell stuff. Talk about what you love. No shame in that. The problem isn’t sales. It’s when the entire persona is a lie, built to manipulate good intentions for personal gain. That’s where I draw the line. Intention is everything. If your intention is pure—even if the result is messy, flawed, imperfect—no one with a conscience is gonna fault you. But if you use sincerity as a prop, if you twist trust into currency, if you hijack empathy just to raise your stock... that’s not just wrong. That’s objectively wrong.

And yeah, I said objectively. That word still means something. It means something is true regardless of your feelings, your preferences, your influencer score and your influence upon it. It doesn’t need you to function. The universe doesn’t care if you’re trending. It doesn’t care if your lighting is good or if your truth gets applause. The universe is indifferent. It gives zero fucks. But we should care. Because the moment we stop caring about intention—the moment we start pretending that subjectivity is objectivity—we lose the thread. We let the algorithm tell us what matters. And we forget that what we intend is what makes us human in the first place.

So yeah, maybe this all gets me fewer views. Less reach. No monetization. So be it. If I’m gonna be seen, I want it to be me being seen. Not some echo of someone else’s polish. Not a mask of greatness I haven’t earned.

Just me.

Raw, flawed, real.

And that’s enough.

Perfectio est aliud genus ficti Latin: Perfection is just another kind of fake by David-Angelo Mineo with editorial assistance from a Generative Pre-trained Transformative Artificial Intelligence 5/4/2025 3,504 Words