#is posting edits here advertising itself?

[diyaokonel]

Yey! New Edit by Welsh and Shedar!I wanted to post it in a month, but decided to do it today! Hope you like it, other videos can be found on YouTube!

In any case - I really enjoy working with text and light!] ✨✨

[dominiqueramseyart]

Some positivity in these turbulent AI times

*This does not minimize the crisis at hand, but is aimed at easing any anxieties.

With every social media selling our data to AI companies now, there is very little way to avoid being scraped. The sad thing is many of us still NEED social media to advertise ourselves and get seen by clients. I can't help but feeling that we as artists are not at risk of losing our livelihoods, here is why:

Just because your data is available does not mean that AI companies will/want to use it. Your work may never end up being scraped at all.

The possibility of someone who uses AI art prompts can replace you (if your work is scraped) is very unlikely. Art Directors and clients HAVE to work with people, the person using AI art cannot back up what a machine made. Their final product for a client will never be substantial since AI prompts cannot be consistent with use and edits requested will be impossible.

AI creators will NEVER be able to make a move unless us artists make a move first. They will always be behind in the industry.

AI creators lack the fundamental skills of art and therefore cannot detect when something looks off in a composition. Many professional artists like me get hired repeatedly for a reason! WE as artists know what we're doing.

The art community is close-knit and can fund itself. Look at furry commissions, Patreon, art conventions, Hollywood. Real art will always be able to make money and find an audience because it's how we communicate as a species.

AI creators lack the passion and ambition to make a career out of AI prompts. Not that they couldn't start drawing at any time, but these tend to be the people who don't enjoy creating art to begin with.

There is no story or personal experience that can be shared about AI prompts so paying customers will lose interest quickly.

Art is needed to help advance society along, history says so. To do that, companies will need to hire artists (music, architecture, photography, design, etc). The best way for us artists to keep fighting for our voice to be heard right now is staying visible. Do not hide or give in! That is what they want. Continue posting online and/or in person and sharing your art with the world. It takes a community and we need you!

[ckret2]

✨⚠️ Wasting Away Again in the Goldilocks Zone ⚠️✨

If you're new here, this is one of those "human Bill in the Mystery Shack" redemption fics: Bill illegally escapes death via reincarnation; the Shack crew imprisons him til they can figure out how to kill him; but they won't, because Bill's gonna make friends with them and literally everybody else in town. Whether they like it or not.

Featuring!! The slowest redemption arc you've ever read; "human" Bill that ISN'T fine with being trapped in an alien body; show-style episodic plot structure; individual plot arcs for characters you've never even cared about; so canon compatible we even include the dang coloring book; and so TBOB-compatible over a year before TBOB came out that I'm considering taking up a position as the Oracle of Delphi just so Apollo stops barraging me with dodgeballs.

New chapters every other Friday, 5pm CST! Old chapters edited, updated, and posted to AO3 on the alternating Fridays! Yes that's a chapter either on here or on AO3 every week! Yes that includes this week!

For art, doodles, upcoming scene excerpts, and posts about characterization & plot plans, see my #bill goldilocks cipher tag. For the fic itself, you can read it on AO3 or here on tumblr.

If you started reading this fic on AO3, go back and keep reading it there. It's the more up-to-date/accurate version of the fic.

⛓️ 1 Part 1. Bill returns, in a bedsheet toga.

⛓️ 1 Part 2. Bill tries to murder the Stans & Soos (with time travel).

⛓️ 2. Dipper and Mabel save the day (with time travel).

⛓️ 3. A tense evening as the Pines prepare to get rid of Bill.

⛓️ 4. Plot twist: the Pines physically can't get rid of Bill.

⛓️ 5. The gang goes to a diner at 3 a.m. for hostage negotiations.

⛓️ 6. Bill escapes from Theraprism. [NEW!!!]

⛓️ 7. "How'd Bill get here" flashback; plus, entering his new prison.

💇‍♀️ 8. Bill gives himself a haircut and depression.

💇‍♀️ 9. Bill & Ford grudgingly have a sincere conversation; regret it.

💇‍♀️ 10. The kids decide Bill won't ruin their summer. Also: Pacifica!

🧚 11. Mabel gives Bill the most beautiful makeover ever. (It's not.)

🧚 12. Pacifica advertises Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula. Bill wants it.

🧚 13. Pacifica refuses to share; the twins discover its side effects.

🧚 14. Mabel wins Bill's eternal friendship with arts & crafts.

💭 15. Bill, Ford, and Dipper have nightmares that are Bill's fault.

💎 16. Ford has a fun day with Mabel but everything goes wrong.

📓🔺📓 TBOB BOUNDARY: Everything above this line has been edited for 100% compatibility with The Book Of Bill and posted to AO3! Everything after this line has not been edited... so it's only 98% TBOB compatible. 📓🔺📓

💎 17. The day goes right again thanks to healthy communication.

🎥 18. Mabel's Guide To Local Animals, co-starring Bill Cipher.

🧊 19. Wendy snoops into the weird things happening in the shack.

🧊 20. Wendy meets the weird thing (it's Bill).

🎂 21. Stan & Ford's birthday party! Bill gives evil gifts.

💭 22. Bill "helps" Dipper's nightmares; no one knows his motive.

👁️ 23. Bill's ex is back in town and nobody's happy about it.

👁️ 24. Everyone's even less happy to learn Bill has a sex life.

🧿 25. Mabel and Bill make friendship bracelets! :)

🧿 26. The Pines take Bill to the mall. He wears terrible things.

🧿 27. Bill breaks Mabel's heart (and panics to fix it).

🏳️‍🌈 28. Bill talks his way into going with Wendy to Rainbow Club.

🎃 29. Bill contacts the Henchmaniacs on Summerween morning.

🎃 30. Costume making. Mabel pries into Bill's past, with crayons.

🎃 31. The Trickster's pals trick-or-treat; and Bill terrifies Dipper.

🪮 32. Dipper & Mabel make a poppet to control Bill.

🦷 33. Stan takes Bill to the dentist. In handcuffs.

🦷 34. Dentist & tooth fairy attack. Stan & Bill are still handcuffed.

🦷 35. Bill & Stan reach a painful understanding and stop the fairy.

🛁 36. Anime night; and Mabel makes Bill do community service.

🛁 37. Bill plots escape and runs into Wendy. Dipper panics.

🛁 38. Bill has the worst and stupidest day of his afterlife.

🌅 39. A cultist finds Bill; Bill tries to re-recruit Ford.

🚙 40. Gideon broadcasts car commercials; invokes Bill's wrath.

🚙 41. Bill apologizes for bullying Gideon. lol no he blackmails him.

🌕 42. Bill tells Dipper secrets of the universe; predicts an eclipse.

🌖 43. Gravity is disappearing; Ford and Fiddleford investigate.

🌗 44. Ford & Dipper drag Bill hiking; Bill faces his death.

🌘 45. Ford demands answers Bill can't give as totality looms.

🌑 46. Totality. Bill decides whether Ford lives or dies.

🌒 47. Bill feels rotten but finally explains the eclipse.

🌓 48. Bill has a complete mental breakdown.

🌔 49. The gang limps home. (Plus: a second dimensional eclipse.)

💿 50. Bill finally processes that mental breakdown.

💿 51. Dipper and Mabel try to remember the Axolotl's poem.

📖 52. The gang reads Flatworld. Bill isn't thrilled.

📖 53. Mabel tries to get Bill to talk about his home world.

⚛️ 54. Dipper, Ford, and Fiddleford do paradox physics.

📖 55. Mabel learns college-level geometry.

📖 56. Mabel & Bill have fun; Dipper & Ford prepare for murder.

💀 57. The execution of Bill Cipher.

💀 58. Everything you wondered about how Bill escaped.

💀 59. Everything you didn't wonder about how Bill escaped.

💀 60. Everything you never imagined about how Bill escaped.

✨✨ THE APOXOLOTLYPSE ✨✨

🪐 61. The Axolotl finds the second dimension's corpse. ✨

🪐 62. The 2D massacre is so much worse than the Ax thought.

🪐 63. A building inspection in the Nightmare Realm.

🪐 64. Even when Bill fixes things he breaks them.

🪐 65. A shape meets Bill as the world burns.

🪐 66. The gods & Bill negotiate him leaving Dimension Zero.

🪐 67. The gods deal with Bill not leaving Dimension Zero.

🪐 68. Bill is so much worse than the Ax thought.

🪐 69. THE END: the gods and Bill settle into a new status quo.

📙 70. Soos vacuums the attic (wow exciting)

📙 71. Soos decides how he feels about Bill's treatment.

📙 72. Fixin it with Soos: home redecorating!

🎥 73. The gang makes plans for the night.

🎥 74. Dipper's Guide to the Fremont Nightwigglers

🎥 75. Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers

🎥 76. The aftermath of everybody pulling all-nighters.

🏖️ 77. Beach episode! The Pines fish! Bill tans!

🏖️ 78. Bigfoot, Agent Powers, and the cool teen gang.

Hey!! I posted chapters 61-69 AFTER this chapter, so if you've been reading along and HAVEN'T seen those yet, go back and make sure you've read them!

🏖️ 79. A post-fishing trip evening. The calm before the feds.

🕴️ 80. The government investigates the Mystery Shack... again.

🕴️ 81. What are they gonna do about the feds??

🕴️ 82. They're gonna seduce the feds. Bill learns human flirting.

💅 83. Pacifica gives Bill a makeover; decides he's a creep.

💅 84. Pacifica gives Bill a makeover; decides he's cool.

💅 85. Final prep. Hope nothing goes wrong at the last second!

🕴️ 86. Bill does his best to flirt with the world's most boring agent.

🕴️ 87. A dinner date with (and scheming against) Agent Powers.

🕴️ 88. Bill tells the gang how they'll con the hell outta the agents.

🕴️ 89. Bill & Ford go to the museum; get oddly chatty.

🕴️ 90. Powers suspects something's up with "Goldie."

🕴️ 91. Powers has "discovered" who "Goldie" "really" is.

🕴️ 92. The government recovers their flash drive.

🕴️ 93. This is how cult recruitment works. (& the gang celebrates!)

⛓️‍💥 94. Bill and the Stans renegotiate his imprisonment.

⛓️‍💥 95. Sleepover! Bloody Mary! And: Anime Night!

COMING SOON:

⛓️‍💥 96. The gals get into Bill's love life; & a cryptid visits the shack.

The chapters have been renumbered! Chapter 61 about the destruction of Bill's dimension was scheduled to post the week TBOB came out, so I skipped it and posted chapter 62 with Soos. By the time I rewrote chapter 61... it was 9 chapters long. I've now renumbered all the chapters to squeeze in ch 61-69.

This post was last updated June 13, 2025! If you're seeing this post as a reblog and it's been a while since then, check back on the original post to see if more's been added!

[inkandtension]

Infertile & Expecting

for: my fav @minniebbang

I hope you like this!

Paring: Hyunjin x Reader.

JYP wasn’t always what people assumed it to be. To the outside world, it was a sleek, powerhouse advertising agency dotted across Seoul’s business district, with too many interns and not enough espresso. But inside, it was chaos. And inside that chaos, there was AWs — Abroad Works, a sub-division that specialized in foreign campaigns, international collaborations, and very weird visa paperwork.

The CEO of AWs was Minho. Terrifying in his management style — pounce without warning, disappear without explanation.

Jisung was the editor sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued, and constantly muttering about how coffee should be a basic right, not a privilege.

Hyunjin was the model with chiseled features, dramatic sighs, and allergic to punctuality. Changbin handled business talks but today, he wasn’t around. Something about a family emergency, a cousin’s wedding, and a goat.

Which brought us to the meeting room on a Tuesday afternoon that smelled like rain and ramen.

Minho, slid a folder across the table to Jisung. “You’re going to the US next month. Florida. Big project. Only you and Hyunjin are here today, and you already know…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Everyone knew. If earth split open and Hyunjin fell in, Minho might ask for receipts before helping.

Jisung blinked. “Okay. Thanks?”

Two hours later, Jisung was editing a banner of Hyunjin standing next to a suitcase for an ad titled “Pack Light, Travel Bright.” He smirked and added a mosquito near his perfect jawline. Payback for last week’s snide comment.

Suddenly, the door creaked.

Hyunjin.

Big eyes. Very big eyes. The kind you make when your pride has been crushed, marinated, sauted, and served on a plate with grass.

“Can I have… one hour?”

Jisung blinked once. “What?”

“One hour. Just one. Please.”

“…why?”

“Just… come. I’ll pay.”

They ended up at a tiny dumpling shop near the station. Hyunjin didn't touch the menu. Just leaned forward like he was about to propose.

“I want to go to the US.”

Jisung narrowed his eyes. “And?”

“And… if you decline the offer, since Changbin-hyung is out, I’ll be next in line. Minho-hyung won’t have a choice.”

“...Why should I give that up?”

Hyunjin’s lips twitched. There it was. The ego crack.

He leaned back, groaned once, rubbed his face like this physically hurt him.

Then launched forward.

"Okay, listen. All my friends went abroad, okay? All of them. Seoul National, USC, NYU, some went to san francisco—I didn’t even know that was a real place! Every single one of them posts stories in their dumb little fake American accents like “It’s snowingg guyssss!” and “Starbucks hits different here.”

You know what I post? Selfies with cutouts of detergent brands!! I have ONE wish in life, Han Jisung. Just ONE!!"

He paused dramatically. Then said, slowly, “I want to pick up the phone and say in the most forced American accent ever: ‘I'm in Florida. It’s raining like hell. Ohhh ma gawwwd.’”

Jisung’s face remained unimpressed. “No.”

Hyunjin blinked. “No?”

“Why would I give up this opportunity for a.....joke?”

Hyunjin’s face contorted. His hands clenched. His jaw twitched.

And he whisper-screamed, desperate, The rarest word in his vocabulary.

“PLEASE.”

The next month was approaching fast, and with it, Jisung’s all-expenses-paid trip to florida, complete with fancy accommodations, American coffee, and a glorious break from office drama.

Unfortunately, “drama” had legs, a jawline, and an endless supply of turtlenecks.

Hyunjin had entered full pestering mode. Like Jisung’s success was a war crime.

He started small — delivering Jisung’s coffee exactly the way he liked it (which was suspicious in itself), complimenting his editing work “Wow, this is almost art, Jisung-ah” (he cropped the picture), and even offering to carry his tripod bag. Jisung did not own a tripod bag. So Hyunjin bought him one.

By Friday, Jisung had enough. He slammed his sandwich onto the desk and turned, half-bread, half-murder in his eyes.

“You know what? If you wanna go to the US so bad, just buy a damn ticket and leave! Not that hard!”

Hyunjin stared at him like he’d just said “jump off a bridge.”

“I can’t,” he said, voice dropping like tragic violins in the background. “I literally can’t.”

Jisung squinted. “What, do you owe someone money?”

“No.” Sigh.

“My dad,” Hyunjin began, “is deeply religious. Like...‘calls a shaman before ordering takeout’ religious.”

Jisung blinked.

“My mom too. And my grandma — don’t even get me started, she calls me ‘sin magnet.’ Anyway, this one shaman my dad adores — some guy named Master Jido or Judo or something — apparently saw my face in a rice bowl and said I have bad travel omens.”

“A rice bowl?”

“Yeah, and since then, my dad’s convinced I shouldn’t cross the Korean Peninsula. He cancelled my trip to Japan in high school, he deleted my US college applications. Said, and I quote, ‘the wind outside Korea will swallow his luck and spit him back without eyebrows.’”

Jisung stared at him like he’d just aged 15 years. “You have GOT to be joking.”

“I WISH,” Hyunjin cried, hands flailing. “Do you know what it’s like to watch your school friends post beach pictures from Malibu while you’re stuck doing toilet flush product commercials in front of a green screen rain cloud?!”

Jisung squnted his eyes, then exhaled deeply. “Hyunjin, you think I’m that dumb?” Jisung asked.

There was silence. Then—

“Because...Mr. Lee only listens to you,” Hyunjin blurted. “You say the sky’s green, he believes it! Say your grandma died, and boom — you’re free.”

Jisung paused, jaw twitching. “You want me to say...my grandma died?”

Hyunjin grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently. “YES! If I said it, he’d call the hospital to check if I was lying. You say it, he’ll send flowers, plus a free trip to fiji for your mental well-being.”

Jisung yanked himself free, appalled. “Hell no! What’s wrong with you?!”

But Hyunjin wasn’t stopping. He was already on his knees, quite literally begging on the carpet Minho once declared “imported Italian” hands clasped like he was auditioning for a soap opera.

“PLEASE!”

Jisung sighed.

“Enough diversions and lying.” Jisung snapped, getting up.

“I WASN'T LYING!”

“okay, half lying.”

Hyunjin pulled out a small blue notebook.

Opened it.

Then… lifted it up.

And hid his face behind it. Peeking from behind the page… were two guilty brown eyes. Wide. Dramatic. Trapped.

“See, man. Be honest with me. We’ve had unnecessary beef for, like, forever. You mocked my editing, I insulted your hair — that’s history. But now, suddenly, you throw away all your pride just for a wish to go to the US?”

Hyunjin let out a dramatic sigh and took a mighty slurp of the cold drink before him — one of those neon-colored, sugar-overloaded concoctions that looked more dangerous than hydropower. The moment the freezing hit the roof of his mouth, he jerked in his seat.

“Brainfreeze—owowowow—okay, listen,” he whimpered, eyes squeezed shut like he was physically preparing to relive a decade-old heartbreak. “I’ll tell you.”

He placed the drink down, straightened his shoulders, and began:

“There was a girl.”

Jisung blinked.

“A girl?” he echoed, already unimpressed.

“She transferred to our school when I was thirteen. A foreigner, one of the two foreigh transfer students. Always carried this clunky DSLR, like a third arm. Nobody talked to her much. But one day, my bicycle, which was a girls one, was parked next to hers and—”

“Wait.” Jisung frowned. “Why were you riding a girl’s bicycle?”

Hyunjin looked mortified. “…The shaman. He said the top tube on boys cycles was dangerous for my family lineage.”

Jisung snorted so hard his straw jumped. “Bro WHAT.”

“I didn’t question it! I was twelve!”

Jisung was full-on laughing now. “What, it was gonna erase your family tree or something?”

“Yes!” Hyunjin cried in frustration. “They said I’d never have children and the family name would end!”

Wheezing, Jisung wiped his eyes, doubling up. “Oh my God, man.”

Hyunjin glared but pushed on, determined. “Anyway. She didn’t laugh at my bike. That mattered. Most people did. Like you. she didnt laugh even when i told her.”

“She and I became…accidental friends. We never hung out alone or anything. She would laugh at everything I said. And one Christmas, I wrote her this card. It had a picture of Amelia Island on it, super random, no snow or anything — just a beach. But I don’t know, it reminded me of her. I gave it anonymously.”

Jisung tilted his head. “That’s kinda sweet.”

“She read it during recess. No expression. Blank. Next day, she comes to me, asks, ‘Did you write this?’” Hyunjin scoffed. “I panicked. Said no. Then mocked the card I made. Called it lame. Said it looked like a brochure for lost tourists.”

Jisung winced. “Smooth.”

“She didn’t laugh. Just… stared at me and said, ‘That card made me feel something for the first time this winter.’ Then she walked away.”

Jisung, now slightly invested, raised a brow. “Oof.”

“I never told her I wrote it” Hyunjin admitted.

A pause.

Jisung squinted. “And what does this possibly have to do with you going to the US?”

Hyunjin waved his hand. “Let me finish.”

Jisung looked at the half-drunk cold drink, then back at Hyunjin.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I can reject the offer. You’ll get the slot instead. But then... how will you convince your family?”

Hyunjin sipped the last of his drink slowly.

Looked out the window.

And grinned.

Hyunjin leaned back in his chair, that infuriatingly smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His eyes sparkled with something Jisung could only describe as unearned confidence.

“I already took care of it.”

Jisung narrowed his eyes. “Took care of what, Romeo?”

Hyunjin simply crossed his arms and nodded to himself like a villain finishing a chess game he started in his own head.

“Clarity” Jisung said. “Give it. Now.”

In the JYP Building, another sub-branch office buzzed with quiet chaos. HR. Finance. And there she was — the shaman’s daughter. Mid-twenties, blunt-cut bangs, and permanently unimpressed with the universe.

She worked in HR, or maybe Legal — Hyunjin hadn’t actually checked. All he knew was that she existed.

He’d found his window.

Hyunjin stood outside a quiet break room with the phone against his ear, pacing in dramatic arcs like he was rehearsing for a movie.

He called.

Ring. Ring.

Click. “Hello?” came the aged voice on the other end. The very Shaman. His enemy. His nemesis since age seven.

Hyunjin’s voice dropped into sugar-laced sarcasm.

“Hello, Master Jido. This is Hwang Hyunjin. Your favorite client's son.”

“Oh, it’s Hyunjin! What is it, son?”

“I just had a little doubt,” Hyunjin said, sweetly.

“A doubt?” the man chuckled. “Ask away, child.”

Hyunjin’s voice changed. From fake-sweet to quiet-deadly. “If I kidnap your daughter…”

“…Eh?”

“…And elope with her…”

“WHAT?”

“…Then marry her…”

“Are you—”

“…And two months later… dump her, throw her out of the house, emotionally ruin her, and disappear from the family registry…”

The silence on the line grew nuclear.

“…Then, Shaman-nim,” Hyunjin asked, voice as cold as a weather app warning, “Whose horoscope do the bad omens belong to? Mine, your daughters, or yours?”

“What do you want.”

Jisung stared, blinking. “You blackmailed a seventy-year-old spiritual consultant.”

“Gently intimidated,” Hyunjin corrected.

“With the emotional threat of fake marriage and divorce.”

“Wasn’t fake in the moment” Hyunjin said, sipping from the straw like a man who just solved world peace. “I committed to the bit.”

Jisung just stared.

“I didn’t actually do anything! I just... helped him consider some new astrological angles” Hyunjin said.

“Now, apparently the stars have changed or something. A fresh wind of fortune has entered my celestial corridor.”

“I can’t believe you dragged a whole girl into this—”

“She doesn’t even know. It’s fine. Her Insta bio says ‘Engaged to coffee’ anyway.”

“…What does that even mean—”

Hyunjin suddenly stood up and raised his arms like he’d won a national award. “San Francisco! It’s rainin' like hell, OH MAH GAWD!!!”

The cafe went quiet. Everyone turned. A kid started crying. The waiter dropped a glass.

Jisung sank into his chair, hiding his face and muttering, “It's Florida.”

You were thirteen when you landed in Korea, still jetlagged, still unsure how far Seoul was from anything familiar — your school, your grandma, the small room in Florida that always smelled like oranges.

Your dad had one rule: “No Korean boys.”

You blinked. He leaned in like he was whispering ancient wisdom.

“They’re into shady stuff. Like... gambling and prostitution.” You nodded. Not because you believed it — but because the jetlag had won, and your brain had clocked out somewhere over the Pacific.

You started school in March, jetlagged and freezing, with only two phrases in Korean: "Hello" and "I don't understand."

The only other foreign transferee was a boy named Felix, who looked like he’d been born with bubble tea in his hand. Korean-Australian, bleach-blond, and soft-spoken, he spoke Korean in scattered syllables and English with an accent that made teachers squint and classmates swoon.

You and Felix became a team by necessity. You copied each other’s homework, traded cafeteria pickles for extra milk, and sat side by side during any group project, acting as one two-headed confused foreigner.

Then there was Hyunjin.

The Korean boy who looked like he walked off a shampoo ad — with his floppy fringe and moody aura, and that stupid girls’ bicycle he parked next to yours every morning.

He tried to speak to you.

Often.

“Hi. Me am… Hyunjin… boy… I am goose pinples. No.—wait—I mean, I have the goose pinples.”

You and Felix burst into laughter so loud, the homeroom teacher glared.

Hyunjin, unbothered, nodded proudly. "Funny. You laugh. you like me."

“No,” Felix wheezed. “Because you said you are goose pimples.”

“Goose pinples happen when heart is... too loud!” Hyunjin declared, without understanding a thing.

“My English is very… constipation.” “I feel you, I have many… hormone today.” “This snack is… how do you say? Explode in mouth? Like… popsex?”

“Today is Constipation Day in Korea!” and what not.

You and Felix lost it every single time.

You never corrected him. Because he always looked so damn confident. Like the world should revolve around his pronunciation.

Felix would record some of it. You’d play it back in the dorm at night, wheezing into your pillows, whispering:

“Popsex. He really said popsex.”

But there was something endearing about him. Or maybe something tragic. You couldn’t tell.

The sun was setting. You were taking a photo of the schoolyard. He walked up, fiddling with something behind his back.

He didn’t say anything. Just dropped a card on the bench and left.

The cover was of an island. Amelia Island. Inside, written in broken English:

“You make my heart like dance. Happy marry Christmas.”

You didn’t smile.

Because it was sweet. And embarrassing. And probably from him.

The next day, you asked him, straight-faced:

You: “Did you leave this?”

Hyunjin: “What? Me? This??” (Laughs too hard. Slaps his knee.) “This very funny! Haha. Island card! Very joke.”

you told him you liked it very much. that for once you felt like someone gave you something worth keeping. His eyes widened and he was about to say something when you walked away, a bit hurt.

“No dating Korean boys” Your dad said again, while reheating soup and watching Korean dramas like a hypocrite. “Keep that in mind.”

You’d just nodded.

He didn’t know about Hyunjin. Not really. He was your friend. Mostly. Kind of. Not technically anything that violated international treaties or fatherly warnings.

Even when he gave you that Amelia Island card — anonymous but obvious — you said nothing. He denied it. Called it lame.

So you shrugged, hurt a little, and moved on.

Eventually, your parents moved again. Another town. Same country, but a new school, new skyline, new loneliness.

You never saw Hyunjin after that.

Your sister was the golden one.

She smiled brighter. Spoke softer. Her eyes watered during shampoo commercials and she once cried when a stray cat let her hold it for a minute.

So when she came to you — eyes big and trembling — and said

“Can you tell them? Please? I don’t think I can. He’s Korean. You know how Dad’ll be.”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want her to be happy. But because the moment she asked, you felt it — that old familiar weight settling on your shoulders again. The one you carried through your teens, through immigration, through every rule your father ever carved into stone.

You sat on the edge of the living room couch, your fingers digging crescents into your thighs, while your father’s silence sharpened the air like a blade.

Your mother’s voice cut in, pleading — but soft, rehearsed, like she already knew the end.

“She’s never asked for anything her whole life. Let her marry him, please. We have Y/N, don’t we? When have you ever said no to her? She’ll marry whomever you ask her to, it's the least she can do.”

You blinked. Felt the ground vanish a little under your feet.

But you didn’t say anything.

You smiled. A small one. A polite one.

You didn’t know then that smile would cost you something.

The wedding was small. Rushed. A white dress borrowed. A groom with tired eyes and a job in tech. Your sister looked happy, though. For a while. With you as the photographer.

Eight months later, you were at the hospital. Premature baby.

“She’s in labor. Come if you can.”

You went. You held her hand when her husband was at work. You remember the way she looked at you — sweaty, scared, but still somehow calm, like you were the only solid thing in the room.

Then the baby didn’t cry.

And everything after that blurred into this cold, sterile memory of machines and silence and a doctor’s voice trying to be gentle.

They named him Noah. He was perfect. For ten minutes. Then he was gone.

The funeral was the kind of heartbreak people don’t talk about because there are no right words for something that brief and permanent.

Her husband blamed her for not taking care of herself while pregnant.

“You said you didn’t want kids. You remember? You told me a year ago. That maybe... you’d regret it.”

And your sister just stood there. Frozen. One hand still resting on the tiny urn in her arms.

They never recovered.

You held her until her breathing evened out. Until her voice cracked open.

And you just kept rubbing her back, trying to hold her together with hands that were already so used to holding other people’s pain.

Later, your mom pulled you aside while helping pack up some things for her.

“At least you… you should listen to your father. You don’t want to end up like your sister.”

You didn’t respond because she's right.

Years later, you’re still in Korea. Still taking jobs from strangers who don’t know your language but trust your eye. You have clients. You have your quiet little life.

But something in you had started to twitch.

A thread pulling tight.

It stirred when you saw your sister's hands shake over her tea.

It stirred loudest when you saw Hyunjin again — in that photo. The boy who once said “goose pinples” with his whole chest. Who looked at you like you were a language he wanted to learn.

It started with a hand graze.

James had bumped into you at a small book café in the quieter part of the city, apologizing so earnestly for a moment you barely noticed. “Sorry—wasn’t watching,” he said, British lilt and coffee-stained fingers holding onto a stack of art books. You glanced up briefly from your own pile of screenwriting guides, nodding once, distracted.

He returned a few minutes later, leaned against your table, and offered you a smile that held no arrogance, no performance. “You like writing, I guess?” he asked. “Or maybe just collecting intimidating books?”

You smirked at that. He sat. He talked. He stayed.

And you didn’t expect that you’d like him so much.

He was sweet. Not in the manufactured way you’d grown used to—he didn’t send flowers, didn’t quote poems he didn’t understand. But he remembered the books you liked, bought a matching notebook when you mentioned needing one, and waited outside the film school for two hours on rainy days with an umbrella and half a chocolate bar.

He met your sister. Made her laugh, even. Played card games with her in the cramped corners of the house when your father wasn’t around.

But when you finally told him—quietly, anxiously—that you wanted him to meet your father, he hesitated.

“Give me a month,” he said, voice low. “Just one month. I want to have a job by then. I want to come to him with something in hand. I know what your dad is like.”

You frowned. Not because he was wrong—but because that month already sounded like an escape route.

Still, you nodded.

You always wanted to believe the best of people.

One month turned into two. Then four.

He kept trying, he said. But you were the only one holding onto his promises anymore.

2 years later.

Your father came into your room. He had a printed photograph in his hand. A boy in a navy blue shirt, smiling politely.

“His name is Joseph,” your father said. “Son of Thomas. Studied in Delhi. MBA. Good job, salary, family, and most importantly, nice and respectful.”

You stared at the picture, you knew Joseph from church. But it wasn’t even Joseph you were reacting to—it was the sudden realization of what this meant.

He thought you were ready for marriage.

“dad” you said slowly. “I… I want to show you something.”

You opened your phone. Scrolled to the gallery. Your thumb hovered for just a second before you turned the screen toward him.

It was an image of a printed brochure for a photography course abroad.

“I want to apply for this,” you said. “I think it’ll help with my work.”

There was a long pause. He didn’t react for a full minute. Just stared.

Then, finally, he placed the photograph of Joseph on the table and sat back.

“You know I’ve never denied you anything,” he said quietly. Not angry.

“Don’t take it for granted.”

“I’m not,” you said. “I promise I’m not. I just… I really think this will help. With the way the industry’s changing, and—”

He raised a hand, stopping your excuses mid-way. You felt like you were shrinking.

He nodded once, a little stiff. Then, after a moment, rested his callused hand on your head the way he always did when you were little. Gentle, warm, still.

“Go” he said. “Make sure you do it properly.”

You smiled.

But your eyes had guilt.

Packing didn’t take long.

Neither did the goodbyes.

You kept your room clean. Hugged your sister a little tighter. Stared too long at your walls and the half-torn posters you’d never get to finish decorating.

Then came the early morning of departure.

The airport lights felt too white. Too quiet. Your sister walked next to you, carrying your hand luggage while you tugged along the suitcase. You were wearing a hoodie.

“Is that him?” your sister asked softly, referring to the guy who sat on the waiting lounge, very far away, the matching hoodie you wore was a hint.

You told her everything last night.

You nod and stop.

Right outside the terminal glass doors, you turned toward her. And your face crumpled.

“I’m sorry,” you said suddenly, voice cracking, your breath stuttering. “I didn’t mean this, I didn’t—”

You swallowed. Clenched your teeth. Covered your mouth with your hand for a second, trying not to let it shake.

Your sister didn’t say anything. She just looked at you the way she always did—waiting, quiet, gentle.

“Please” you whispered, “don’t tell them.”

And that was all.

You picked up your bag again.

And walked through the doors.

You made it through security in silence, your hoodie pulled low over your eyes, your steps heavy. The air inside the airport felt sterile—metal chairs, quiet voices, the hum of announcements you weren’t really listening to. You held onto your passport like a lifeline.

And then you saw it.

A lone suitcase just a few feet ahead, with a grayish denim jacket draped lazily over it. The chair beside it was empty.

You paused. Tilted your head slightly. Maybe the guy had gone to the washroom. You didn’t care.

You didn’t even want to care.

You sat down with a gap of one chair in between, resting your small handbag on top of your own suitcase. The weight of the flight, the course, your family, James, and everything you didn’t say sat on your chest like bricks.

A headache was already blooming behind your eyes.

You stood again, rubbing your forehead, and made your way to the tiny pharmacy stall just across from the waiting area. Bought a strip of pills, a small water bottle, and pressed your palm to your temple as you walked back.

And then you saw him.

Long legs stretched out.

Foot tapping on his suitcase and kicking it forward like a bored child playing air hockey with himself.

And then pulling it back with his heel, only to do it again.

You stared at him for a solid ten seconds.

He didn’t even notice you—he was too busy whistling a terrible, off-key rendition of some unknown classical tune. Probably something he made up.

Your brows twitched.

You moved to sit down anyway, deciding to just pretend he didn’t exist.

But the moment your hand touched your suitcase handle, he looked up.

And his face lit up like he wasn’t twenty-four years old but actually five.

A slow, mischievous grin crept onto his face. He tilted his head, blinked dramatically, then—because he had no self-preservation instinct—shifted one chair closer, leaned into your face from the side.

He pointed a finger and poked your shoulder. With far too much confidence.

“Ma’am,” he said, in the most suspiciously fake tone you’d ever heard, “have we met before? Or… are you just the reason the stars look dim tonight?”

You blinked.

Squinted.

And then smacked his shoulder with a loud thwap.

“Hwang Hyunjin!” you snapped. “Stop overacting! What the hell?! I’ve been searching the entire airport like a lunatic—!”

“I told you I was inside—!”

“You were not! You left your suitcase here like you live here. Is this a goddamn palace?! Were you taking a heritage walk or what?!”

“It’s my first time in this terminal!” he defended, eyes wide and innocent, “I got excited, okay?! It’s like a mall but worse!”

You glared. “You’re unbelievable.”

He leaned in closer, voice full of pride. “But also really good-looking.”

You deadpan-stared at him. “I’m this close to checking in my morals and leaving you in the cargo.”

“Noted.” He nodded solemnly, then grinned again. “Oh, by the way—Florida’s gonna be awesome, baby, Imagine all the white sand and palm trees and—ow, ow—okay, sorry, stop hitting me—!”

You had shoved him lightly on the chest, but he reacted like he was dying.

“Oh my God,” you groaned. “Grow a spine.”

“Oh my God,” he mimicked in a high voice, holding his chest. “Grow a spine—You hit me! I might never emotionally recover from this moment.”

You turned away, cheeks puffed in exasperation.

He leaned in again, wrapped an arm around your shoulder without asking, and pulled you in close like a clingy koala. You squirmed, tried to push him off, but he was already launching into another act.

“Milady,” he said in a terrible British accent, “I humbly beg your forgiveness. I was so very bewitched by the splendid architecture of this steel-and-concrete airport that I momentarily forgot I had a beautiful lover waiting for me.”

“‘Beautiful lover’?” you raised a brow.

He straightened, chest out like a knight. “I would doth die a thousand deaths to bask in thy gaze.”

“…Are you high?”

“I took two mints. Close enough.”

You started laughing despite yourself.

You hated that he always knew how to twist your mood—how to flip the script, to go from heavy and aching to ridiculous and warm. Like he could sense exactly when you were on the edge.

And even though you were still mad… you rested your head on his shoulder for a second before standing up.

“Come on,” you muttered, grabbing your boarding pass. “Let’s go. Before you get distracted by another vending machine and try to marry it.”

Hyunjin gasped, following you with exaggerated shock. “That was one time! And it said limited-edition banana milk—!”

You walked ahead, shaking your head.

And behind you, suitcase rolling, Hyunjin trailed after you with that same stupid smile—already reaching out to hold your hand like it was muscle memory.

This is a notice from the heavens: what in the ever-loving hell just happened ?

Flashback.

Hyunjin barely sat down at his desk when the dreaded voice pierced the air.

“Hwang Hyunjin. Office. Now.”

His eyes lifted like a man being summoned to court. Minho never calls. Minho appears like a spirit of mild annoyance and sarcastic judgment. But this? This was serious.

He stood, heart hammering, already mentally cycling through everything he might’ve done wrong—was it the extra-long lunch break last Tuesday? The incident with the bubble tea explosion in the studio? That one time he accidentally hit ‘Reply All’ and sent a crying cat meme to the entire office?

No time to wonder. He walked in.

Minho sat at his desk, arms crossed, face unreadable. Very Minho. Behind him, the screen glowed with a blank spreadsheet—deadly in its own way.

“We’re changing the face of the AWs campaign,” Minho said, without even looking up.

Hyunjin blinked. “...Okay?”

Minho leaned back. “We can’t afford celebrity models. The budget is ass. So. New idea—we pick someone from the team.”

Hyunjin tilted his head. “Oh… That’s actually kinda genius. Like… relatable marketing. ‘We are you’ type vibe.” He nodded, warming up. “If we do a shoot with banners and everything, it’ll look organic. Sales will go up.”

“Exactly,” Minho said, drumming his fingers. “So now comes the real question…”

He stared straight into Hyunjin’s soul.

“Who should be the model?”

And in that moment… Hyunjin knew he was absolutely screwed.

Minho never asks for opinions. Which meant—he already had someone in mind. And he was called here, which meant—it was him.

An intrusive image assaulted his brain: A massive banner over a subway station. Hyunjin. Smiling. Thumbs up. Next to a toilet seat.

“AWs: Flushing Problems Away.”

He swallowed thickly.

“Jisung,” he blurted. “Han Jisung’s got that—like, you know—model energy. Face like a K-drama second lead, right? Like the nice one that dies?”

“Hyunjin,” Minho said flatly. “You’ll do it.”

“No—no no no,” Hyunjin stammered, waving his hands. “Minho-hyung, listen—my family’s got… issues. Yes. Terrible issues. There’s a… a spiritual curse, actually. We can’t be on printed material. It invites demons. My mom said—”

Minho didn’t even blink.

He turned to his monitor.

“Do it or resign.”

There it was. Classic Minho. Dropping ultimatums like it was Monday morning Sudoku.

Hyunjin stood frozen. He sighed. Long. Dramatic. Almost award-worthy.

He turned to the door. Put a hand on the handle. Then paused.

“Give me one hour,” he said, turning back.

Minho didn’t glance up. “Take it.”

“Your time, sir,” Hyunjin added with unnecessary formality, voice full of noble defeat.

Minho finally looked at him, eyes squinting with the exhausted patience of a man being begged to let a golden retriever run a government agency.

“What now?”

The lighting is warm, jazzy music hums faintly, and there's a rustic charm to the place. The only thing out of place is the sheer tension radiating from one side of the booth.

Minho sits like a man about to order his final meal before heading into a warzone.

Hyunjin sits like a man who is the warzone.

The waiter approaches with a notepad.

Minho: “Dakgalbi. Extra spicy. Add cheese. Double portion.” Hyunjin: “...A glass of hot water. Please.”

The waiter blinks. Looks at Hyunjin. Then at Minho. Then back at Hyunjin, silently judging his life choices.

“Hot… water?” “Yes. Plain. Hot.” “Lemon?” “No. I’m not here to feel joy.”

The waiter backs away slowly.

Minho sighs. “Are you starting or should I just punch myself in the head and save time?”

Hyunjin takes a dainty sip of his steaming hot water, wincing like it burned his soul. Then places the cup down like he’s just returned from a war front.

“Sir. I asked you here tonight because I needed to explain why I absolutely cannot��be the face of this campaign.”

Minho: “Uh huh.”

“There’s a girl. She never judged me. Not when I was in my girls cycle.”

Minho freezes mid-napkin-unfold, he remembers something.

“We were 13—”

Minho cuts in, deadpan:

“Yeah. I know. You gave her a card for Christmas and it had an island on it and blah blah blah.”

Hyunjin freezes. “Wait… how do you know that?”

Minho sips his water now, mocking.

“You also asked for one hour during your job interview and told me the same sob story.”

Hyunjin seals his lips, humbled into silence. For a moment.

Then:

“There’s… more, sir. But I’ll have to go with the flow—”

Minho cuts in again, already halfway through his meal.

“Come to the fucking point. I’ll only be here till this plate’s empty.”

Hyunjin mutters under his breath:

“Didn’t know you were gonna inhale the damn dish…”

Minho: “What?”

Hyunjin (straightening): “Nothing. So—what happened was…”

He breathes in deep. Eyes down.

Minho looks pained.

“one night… I opened Instagram. And there she was. With another guy. Matching hoodies. Holding hands. At the zoo. I saw the giraffes in the background, hyung. Our giraffes.”

“You had giraffes?”

“We once watched a giraffe documentary together in the office pantry. That was OUR moment.”

Minho slows down. Just a little.

“And she was dating a guy who was a small time struggling photographer, looking for another job, and hence, I quit getting photographed out of spite”

Minho paused eating. “What”

“I archived my entire gallery. Stopped taking selfies. I haven’t touched my camera in half a year. The guy at Canon messaged me to check if I died.”

Minho tosses his chopsticks down.

“Hyunjin. During your interview, you also told me you quit riding bikes because your dad bought you a pink one. Are you the son of JYP that we should excuse your behavior like it’s performance art?!”

Hyunjin looks mildly insulted. “It had a bell shaped like a bunny. It traumatized me.”

“Okay. Shut up. You’re coming tomorrow at 7 AM sharp. You’re shooting a campaign for room spray. If you cry, I’ll make you do deodorant and drain cleaner next.”

“Sir—my aura is not compatible with room spray.”

“Neither is your soul compatible with employment, apparently.”

Hyunjin looks like a dying goldfish.

“But hyung—sir—I’m emotionally unavailable. I won’t be able to concentrate!”

“It’s not like you ever achieved anything while fully concentrated anyway.”

He stands. Leaves.

Hyunjin sits there, stunned, insulted, and still clutching his hot water like a widow.

The waiter brings the bill.

Hyunjin also starts to get up, following Minho… when—

“Hyunjin,” Minho calls without turning.

“Pay the bill.”

He disappears around the corner.

Hyunjin opens the bill and his soul leaves his body.

“Of course. I love being financially exploited right after emotional trauma.”

The lights are dim. Not in an artistic, mood-lit way. In a “someone forgot to turn on the switches” way. The studio smells faintly of coffee, industrial cleaning spray, and vague regret.

Hyunjin stands in the middle of it.

Half-dressed in an orange jumpsuit with “AROMA WHISPER™” stitched in cursive over the chest. Someone handed it to him like it was a privilege. Like he wasn’t just betrayed by the concept of personal dignity.

He’s brushing something off his shoulder. A bit of lint. A speck of despair. Maybe both.

The shirt underneath doesn’t sit right. Too stiff. The kind of material that squeaks when you move. Corporate cosplay.

His hair’s been half-slicked back, the way Minho said it would “photograph clean.” His soul, however, remains smeared across the floor.

He adjusts his collar. Winces.

The fabric itchy. The zipper mocking him. Every fiber of the jumpsuit screams,

“You used to be an artist. Now you are a mascot for air particles.”

Hyunjin mutters under his breath, eyes down.

“Room spray… Room slay. Whatever makes it hurt less.”

And then—

“...Hyunjin?”

A voice.

A very specific voice.

He freezes.

Not like, subtle stiffening. No. He freezes like a man whose worst emotional enemy just pulled the fire alarm inside his chest.

His heart flinches so hard, he forgets how to breathe for a moment.

Slowly, like in a drama that’s low on budget but high on intensity, he lifts his head.

And there she is.

HER. The girl. The she of all his tragic Instagram stalking. The one who never judged him during his Girl Cycle™. The one he once sent a pressed hydrangea and poetry-level card to.

She’s standing there—slightly confused, holding a clipboard, wearing the company vest.

She’s dressed like a part-timer in production, but to him, she looks like the goddess of Febreze herself descended from Olympus to ask why he stopped posting mirror selfies.

And then—

CLICK.

Suddenly, someone hits the main camera lights.

They beam on like interrogation spotlights. White. Blinding. Glorious.

Hyunjin flinches as it hits him in the face—full beam. But he doesn’t close his eyes.

Because hers are on him. Just her eyes. On just him.

And even though he’s dressed like a traffic cone—

Even though his ego is currently six feet under a pile of product sponsorship—

Even though his knees feel like a newborn deer’s and he knows he’s about to be told to hold a fake daisy-scented bottle next to a toilet prop—

All he can think is:

“Damn. I’m in love again.”

And this time, worse than before.

A few moments after the blinding lights switched on and his soul left his body temporarily, Hyunjin starts piecing things together.

She’s not just standing around. She’s not observing. She’s holding a camera.

No. No. No, no, no—

“Y/N,” Minho’s voice cuts through the silence like a very smug dagger, “Let’s start the shoot. Just get a couple of green mat shots for the catalogue, we’ll fix the color grading later.”

Green mat.

Green mat.

Green mat.

Hyunjin’s eyes twitch toward the green rectangle of synthetic shame rolled out like a yoga mat meant for humiliation. A little fake potted plant sits next to it. He’s told to hold the "Rain Breeze Blossom" spray bottle and “smile with your eyes.”

He doesn't even know what that means.

She’s behind the camera. Adjusting the lens.

Professional. Focused. The way she bites the inside of her cheek while testing the lighting makes him want to throw himself out of a very medium-height window.

He’s smiling in the photos.

But only his teeth are participating.

The rest of him is trying not to dissolve into a puddle on the floor and flow straight into the studio’s drainage system.

Click. Click. Click.

He poses. She shoots. They don’t say a word.

Until— It’s over.

Minho walks up, grabs the camera from her hands casually, scrolls through the display.

He stops at a photo of Hyunjin holding the room spray like it’s the antidote to his broken heart.

“Good job,” Minho mutters.

Hyunjin exhales.

“Thanks,” he says quickly, too quickly, heart blooming just a little—until Minho looks at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Not to you,” Minho says, not even hiding his disgust. “To her.”

Hyunjin wilts.

“Thanks,” you say, smiling lightly, taking the camera back.

It’s worse than rejection. It’s non-existence.

You’re not sure how you ended up here.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s the only room still lit up in the whole building—like it remembered you both still had things to say.

Or maybe it’s the way he looked after the photoshoot.

Like he was trying not to look at you. Like looking might hurt. Like not looking already was.

You sit across from him, the table between you unnaturally clean, like the both of you are too polite to leave even a teaspoon of mess anymore.

He’s wearing a plain shirt now. Something soft and pale and very him. His curls are messier. Looser. The way you remember them from last year’s winter, when he used to post black-and-white mirror selfies captioned with song lyrics and emotionally concerning emojis.

You wrap your fingers around your tea mug. It’s hot, but the warmth doesn’t quite reach your chest yet.

“You’re really a photographer now,” he says, half-laughing, like it snuck up on him.

You shrug.

“You’re really a model now,” you say back, with a smile that almost counts as teasing.

He groans dramatically, dragging a hand down his face.

“Don’t say that. That’s the worst moment of my professional life. I’ve peaked in a citrus jumpsuit.”

You laugh a little.

Not because it’s particularly funny, but because he’s always been good at saying things just wrong enough to be endearing.

There’s a pause. The kind you used to fill with banter, or stolen fries, or your fingers brushing his across a couch cushion when no one was looking.

Now it just hums.

“So…” he starts, drumming his fingers lightly against the table, “You’ve been good?”

You nod. Slowly.

But he notices. You don’t say yes.

And he doesn’t press.

Because he knows you.

The same way you know his silence is always louder after 10 PM. The way he brushes the back of his neck when he’s anxious. The way he always shifts his gaze to the corner of the room when he’s afraid of hearing something he wants.

He’s doing it now.

Looking away.

Like he’s scared you’ll say something real.

“So… uh. You and that guy from Instagram. You broke up?”

You raise a brow slowly, suspiciously.

“What, are you stalking me now?”

“No—I mean, no! I just—it was on your story. Publicly. With, like, the couple hashtags and everything,” he mumbles, going red. “I just saw it.”

“Stalker,” you whisper behind the rim of your mug, lips twitching.

He groans.

“I’m not—! Ugh. Whatever.”

You tilt your head, eyes sharpening just slightly.

“Yeah. We broke up.”

“Oh,” he says, a little too quickly. “Good—I mean—uh. Not good. I meant… interesting.”

Your lips quirk.

“He cheated on me.”

That wipes the color from his face in less than a second.

He stiffens.

Hands clenched into weak little fists on the table. Eyes darkening like storm clouds, like he was just given permission to go commit arson.

“Hyunjin,” you say lightly, “You look like you’re gonna punch someone.”

“No,” he says, deadly serious, “Just… imagining kicking him into a trash can and sealing the lid shut.”

“Tempting.”

“If you give me his workplace location, I swear I can pull up with a bat and an apology card.”

You laugh again—softly. Only a little.

But his eyes flick up instantly.

And then, suddenly—he goes dramatic.

He straightens, hands gesturing wildly now, dead serious like he’s about to drop the philosophy of the decade.

“So—when you go to a salon, right? And you get a new haircut, it feels… weird at first. Like, who is this?You stare at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you just ruined your entire look. Right?”

You nod slowly, amused.

“But then,” he continues, “the next day, you see yourself again and go, hey. Wait. It’s not that bad.”

His eyes widen for emphasis.

“And then, one week later, you look in the mirror like—damn. I'm kinda cute. Actually, wait. This is the best haircut ever.”

He places both hands on the table like he’s just proven the theory of relativity.

“That. That’s what your breakup is.”

You stare.

He waits.

You narrow your eyes, biting your lip to stop yourself from cracking a smile.

He scratches the back of his neck, sheepishly grinning now.

“I mean… I did go to the salon yesterday, sooo…”

You blink again.

And then— You snort.

And then you actually laugh.

Hyunjin freezes. Mouth parting slightly.

“Wait. Did you just laugh?”

He gasps dramatically, standing halfway up from his seat like he’s discovered light.

“Manager—turn off the lights! We’ve got enough sunshine here! Go green, baby, let’s save the planet!”

You roll your eyes, still laughing.

“Sit down, idiot.”

“Hey, hey, turn that side and smile a little. We could take a photo and put it in the lobby. You just solved the building’s electricity crisis with your solar power.”

You shake your head, trying not to smile too much. But it’s too late.

He sees it.

And for a second, he just stares.

Like that one smile of yours could pull him back into orbit.

The room is packed.

Slides are changing slowly on the projector as Minho paces at the front, pointer in hand, talking about fragrance variants of the new room spray product like it’s a matter of national security.

Hyunjin’s eyes, however, are glued to his phone.

Not the screen on the wall. Not the notes in front of him.

Your text thread. Your name. Sitting there in his messages like a tiny piece of serotonin.

He types under the desk with the subtlety of a kid cheating on a test.

Hyunjin:

where are you you weren’t at the shoot you didn’t reply this morning are you okay is minho making you quit blink twice if you need rescuing

Three dots pop up.

Then:

You:

Going to a friend’s wedding! Wanna come?

His thumb freezes.

Then moves so fast he almost stabs the touchscreen.

Hyunjin:

I’M COMING I’M COMING OMG

Then GASP.

An actual, audible gasp in the dead quiet room.

Minho pauses his monologue mid-sentence. Everyone looks up like they just heard a fire alarm.

Hyunjin is on his feet, clutching his phone like he’s just received life-altering news.

“No… no, no, no—this can’t—this can’t be happening…”

Minho narrows his eyes. “Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin staggers dramatically toward the door, hand to his mouth like he’s going to faint.

“I… I have to go. I—It’s—It’s personal. Very personal. Family. Emergency. Sad things. Crying things.”

He wipes an invisible tear from his cheek and sniffles audibly.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Minho stares at him, completely unmoved.

“You’re not even crying.”

Hyunjin forces a high-pitched sob.

“NOW I AM.”

Minho doesn’t blink. Just folds his arms, sighs, deadpans.

“Go.”

Hyunjin immediately drops the act, grins.

“Thanks, boss!! Love you!”

He darts out the door in a blur of limbs, nearly knocking over the intern carrying sample bottles.

Minho sighs deeply, clicking the pointer with the weariness of a man who has seen too much.

“Okay. Back to lavender mist and cinnamon-sugar sorrow. Slide twelve, please.”

The sun’s dipping low, painting gold on the windshield. The soft hum of the AC fills the silence.

He’s in the passenger seat, hoodie slightly wrinkled, hair a little messy from air playing with it five minutes ago. His bag’s in his lap, untouched.

Your cars parked right outside his house, engine off, not saying a word.

Neither of you are.

Until suddenly you reach across the console and hold his hand.

Hyunjin blinks.

Looks down at your fingers.

Then up at you.

You’re serious.

Your expression doesn’t wobble even slightly as you ask—

“Will you marry me?”

He freezes like someone just told him he won the lottery and the prize is you.

“Wait—wait. Hold on. What.”

You nod. Still serious. Still holding his hand.

“You. Me. Marriage. What do you think?”

He stares. Then swallows.

Then stares some more.

And finally, very softly:

“You tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.”

He’s lying in bed. Lights off. Blanket up to his chest like he’s in a horror movie.

Only the horror is… His father.

Hyunjin sighs dramatically into the void.

“Appa’s going to kill me.”

His eyes widen.

“No—worse. He’ll disown me. Then resurrect me just to kill me again.”

He turns to his side. Opens his phone. Stares at your name in the messages. Doesn't dare text. You’re probably thinking about the same thing.

“A foreigner. An artist. A photographer. With opinions. Style. Confidence. Love. And—God forbid—humour.”

“I’m dating everything my father prayed against during family offerings.”

He throws the blanket over his face.

You're lying flat on your back, eyes glued to the ceiling fan.

It’s been spinning for hours. It has no answers. Neither do you.

“How do I explain this? Mom’s going to be confused. Dad’s going to have a nosebleed.”

You pull the blanket over your face. Scream into it.

“I’m marrying a Korean guy. A model. An AD model.”

You sit up.

They’re lying in their beds, phones still in hand, both sighing at the ceiling.

Then simultaneously:

“Maybe we should elope.”

Beat.

“But we can’t. My mom would find me in whatever continent I hide in.”

“So would my dad. With a shaman.”

You’re already there when Hyunjin shows up.

You're pacing.

Hands shaking.

Mind spinning.

He sees you from across the street—crosses quickly, no goofy wave today.

You're chewing your lip. Hard.

"Hey," he says gently. "Let’s sit inside?"

You shake your head. Eyes sharp, voice sharp-er.

“Why did you call me here?”

“plan” he says, raising a finger. “I have a plan.”

You squint.

He opens the door. You walk in with him—reluctantly.

Small booth. Two cups between you—one coffee, one untouched hot water.

You're silent. Hyunjin keeps fidgeting with the sugar packets.

Then:

“Let’s elope.”

You stare at him.

Like stare stare.

As if he just said “let’s skydive into a pit of sharks.”

“Are you actually serious?”

“Deadly.”

“Hyunjin—my parents—”

You slam your palm on the table, rattling the spoons.

“Do you know how many hopes they have for me?! Do you know what kind of deal it was for them to send me here? Do you know what my sister’s going through? Do you think I’m just going to throw everything away and—elope?! With a guy who models room spray?!”

Hyunjin’s mouth opens. Then shuts. He nods slowly.

“Cool, cool, cool. I see where the disrespect is.”

“What?”

“No, no, continue. Ruin my entire bloodline.”

“Oh my god—”

“As if my father’s ever looked at me and thought: wow, my son’s going to make wise, marriageable decisions. No! He once told me I should have been born a turnip. At least turnips don’t take photos in orange jumpsuits.”

You blink.

“Turnip?”

“YES, TURNIP. That’s what I’m dealing with. So don’t come at me like you’re the only one with cultural pressure, alright?”

You stand up suddenly, chair scraping loudly.

“I won’t run away like a coward. I won’t mess up everything my parents worked for!”

You begin walking away—heels clicking, exit in sight.

And then—

Hyunjin stands too.

Loud.

Passionate.

Chaotic.

“THAT’S WHY GANDHI SAID!”

Everyone turns. You freeze mid-step.

Turn back slowly.

“…What did Gandhi say?”

He blinks.

Raises his finger again like he’s summoning wisdom from the heavens.

“He said: ‘If you ask me everything—what the fuck will you do, you shithead!’”

Pin-drop silence.

A waiter spills a fork in the corner. A kid starts crying.

You stare at him.

Hyunjin’s chest is rising. He looks like a revolutionary who forgot the script.

You blink. Once. Twice.

“Gandhi said that?”

“Absolutely,” he lies confidently.

Your lips twitch.

You fight it. But it’s coming.

And then—it breaks. You laugh.

Covering your mouth. But laughing.

“You’re such a dumbass.”

“And you’re the dumbass who proposed to me in your car.”

“…Touche”

You sigh, walking back to him, rubbing your temples.

“So what do we do, Gandhi?”

“Let’s go home for now”

It’s dark, except for the soft amber glow from your bedside lamp. The world feels slower at this hour—still, almost forgiving.

You’re curled up in bed beside him. One leg thrown lazily over his, your cheek resting against his chest, where you can feel the steady rhythm of his heart. It’s comforting. So is the weight of his arm around your waist, his fingers tracing thoughtless circles over your back.

But your thoughts won’t stop. They keep chewing at you like cold air under a thin blanket.

You’re stressed. You don’t even have to say it—he can feel it.

“Hey,” he whispers, mouth brushing your forehead. “You’re still thinking about it.”

You don’t answer. Just nestle in closer like maybe silence will erase the pressure sitting on your chest.

He shifts, just enough to tilt your chin up and look at you.

“What’s the rush?” he asks, eyes soft, voice even softer. “We don’t have to get married tomorrow, baby. Chill.”

You blink at him, mouth parting like you might argue—but you can’t. Not when he’s looking at you like you hung the moon.

“We’ll figure it out. Okay?”

Still, you frown. “But what if they hate me? Your dad—my mom—my sister—”

“They probably will,” he replies without missing a beat, grinning. “That’s fine. Let them. They can start hating me and end up loving me. Happens all the time.”

You let out a quiet laugh, but the nerves don’t go away entirely.

He notices. Of course he does.

“Hey,” he murmurs again, voice low and warm like honey. “You and me, we’re good. We’ve got time. No one’s waiting at the altar yet.”

You nod slowly against his chest.

“Okay,” you whisper.

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Besides,” he adds with a smug smile you don’t even have to see to know, “your mom’s gonna love me.”

You shove his chest, laughing for real this time.

“You’re so full of it.”

He tightens his grip on you.

“Full of love, actually.”

“Jinnie”

“What? Let me have my poetic moment.”

Your fingers are lazily tangled in Hyunjin’s hair.

The sun’s barely up. Golden light spills through the curtains in sleepy ribbons. Hyunjin’s breathing is deep and even, his face turned into the crook of your neck, lips slightly parted. He’s fast asleep—smiling faintly like his dreams are filled with you and snacks.

You’ve got one arm on him and your phone pressed to your ear with the other.

Your sister’s voice is soft and cheerful on the other end of the line.

“I’m pregnant again.”

You blink.

“Wow”

“Mhm! Found out last week! Everyone’s so happy.”

You glance down at Hyunjin’s messy hair, then back up at the ceiling with a small smile. “Congratulations… that’s amazing!”

“Yeah, well… now that I’m knocked up again, he’s pampering me like crazy. Foot rubs, back rubs, breakfast in bed... as if my value exists only by a fetus.”

You snort softly.

“You have to talk about kids with Joseph before marriage, though, just so you don’t end up like me.”

You freeze.

“…who?”

“Joseph.”

“…who the hell is Joseph?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Wait… Dad didn’t tell you?”

Your heart rate spikes.

“Oh no. Oh my god. He’s probably planning to surprise you. Y/N, don’t tell him I told you, okay?! Promise me—promise! I don’t want to be the reason you get overwhelmed.”

“What the fu—”

“BYE! Love you!”

Click.

The call ends. You stare at your phone in horror.

A full three seconds pass before you whip the blanket off like it personally betrayed you.

You shake Hyunjin by the shoulder—gently at first.

“Hyunjin.”

He groans sleepily.

You slap his arm.

“Hyunjin.”

“Mmmphh—five more minutes, sunshine”

You yank the pillow out from under his head.

He shoots up like he’s been drafted into war.

“WHAT?! WHAT?! Are we being robbed? Did I leave the stove on? DID I ACCIDENTALLY LIKE YOUR MOM’S INSTAGRAM PHOTO FROM 2017?!”

You grab his face.

“My dad is trying to arrange my marriage to some guy named Joseph.”

He stares at you. Blank. Blinks once.

“…who the fuck is Joseph?”

“EXACTLY.”

You’re already stumbling out of bed, throwing on whatever sweatshirt you find.

Hyunjin finally wakes up for real. He throws off the blanket.

“Get me my pants. We ride at dawn.”

THE PLAN.

You’re curled up at the foot of your bed, knees pulled to your chest, your arms wrapped tight around them. Hyunjin’s sitting nearby, hands in his lap, eyes locked on you like the whole world’s balance depends on your next word.

You’ve been silent for almost twenty minutes.

He finally speaks.

“You haven’t said anything since you ran out of the kitchen. Talk to me.”

You look up, your voice tight and soft. “We’re talking about lying to our parents, Hyunjin.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it again.

You bury your face into your knees. “I already feel disgusting for knowing Joseph exists and not confronting my dad yet. And now I’m supposed to say I’m pregnant—just so they’ll let me marry you?”

He stays quiet, waiting.

You lift your head, eyes watery.

“My sister went through hell after her first baby died. My whole family’s grief was shaped around that loss. It’s why they’re treating this new baby like a gift from God. And now I’m supposed to use that pain? To manipulate their hearts?”

A tear escapes without permission.

“I’m the worst person alive.”

He moves to the edge of the bed, his knees nearly brushing yours.

“Then I’m worse. Because I’ll lie be saying I’m infertile just so my family treats you like some self-sacrificing angel.”

You laugh through your tears.

He pulls you gently into his arms.

“I’m scared too,” he whispers into your hair. “But if we tell the truth, they’ll try to tear us apart. I’m not sure I’ll survive watching you walk away again.”

You press your cheek to his chest, heart aching at the way his voice shakes.

“I don’t want to lose you either.”

A pause.

Then, very quietly, he says, “We can lie. Just… for now. Until they know us. Until we’re so much a part of their lives that they forget the lies ever mattered.”

You don’t reply for a long time.

He breathes in like he was waiting for your approval to live again.

“I’m in love with you” he says.

He cups your face gently, brushing your cheeks with his thumbs. “So much it’s ruining my organs.”

Your mouth trembles. “I still hate this plan.”

“I know,” he whispers. “So do I.”

“But we’re doing it anyway?”

He nods, forehead resting against yours.

“Till death—or Joseph—do us part.”

You let out a weak laugh, and for the first time that night, it doesn’t feel like your whole world is collapsing. Just… rearranging.

Messily. Painfully.

But with him.

You decide to go to Florida, because lying from a distance is so much less scarier. And Amelia island was there. You always wanted to get married there, you told him once and hence it was decided that you both exchange rings there, just for formality.

“But how the hell do we go to Florida?”

He grinned.

And hence……

To jisung:

“Can I have… one hour?”

Jisung blinked once. “What?”

“One hour. Just one. Please.”

“…why?”

“Just… come. I’ll pay.”

To your dad:

“dad” you said slowly. “I… I want to show you something.”

You opened your phone. Scrolled to the gallery. Your thumb hovered for just a second before you turned the screen toward him.

It was an image of a printed brochure for a photography course abroad.

“I want to apply for this,” you said. “I think it’ll help with my work.”

Part-2, final!

[mareastrorum]

These are just initial thoughts, and perhaps I’ll learn something that changes my mind on it, but I’m glad to see Critical Role making the leap to their own subscription service with Beacon.

As a lead in: I’m an attorney that has some background in IP law, though it isn’t what I practice currently. I’ve kept in contact with several active practitioners, particularly those that represent small-time creators either in their own independent practice or via nonprofits. I do not have an extensive Rolodex of IP peers, nor do I spend the money to keep up on IP CLEs. I’m just someone who used to know a ton because I did heavy research and work in that space, and that hasn’t been the case for years.

So here’s my thoughts a bit on the IP angle:

The primary reason I’m happy to see this leap is that CR is taking active steps to keep control over its IP. It’s a boring thing to most people, but when I start paying attention to a specific creator (authors, directors, companies, etc.), I tend to be very attentive to how they use their IP. How freely do they license their marks to partner with other creators to make merch? How often do they allow others to make adaptations or derivatives of their copyrights? What is the quality of those products? What is the supply chain like? Are those third parties objectionable in some way? Were the other parties faithful to the original works or marks? Was this a cash grab or an earnest effort to make something worth the price tag?

Honestly, I like how CR run their business. They have a history of tapping fans and fellow small businesses when making new merch or spinoffs. They embrace the culture of fan-made derivative works, both by featuring fanart/cosplay and by sharing their success. Do you know how rare it is for a company to pay fan artists for their already-made and freely posted work and then sell books of it? Let me be clear: CR bought a limited license from each artist so they could print and sell each work in a physical book, then paid the cost of publishing that book with no guarantee that CR would make that money back, let alone profit. I have a copy of the collector’s edition art books: they’re actually very well made and the packaging definitely cost a pretty penny. That’s not a rainmaker idea, that’s genuinely risking financial loss to sell something people could access for free if they wanted to.

The art books aren’t a one-off either. Darrington Press is CR’s separate LLC for tabletop games. (It’s good business practice to split off companies that handle products in different industries.) CR has also made shows based on those games, and the Candela Obscura series has quite a dedicated audience. Everything about Candela belongs to them: the game itself, the rule book, all the art in the book, the web series based on the game, and merch. It’s so successful that they invested in scheduling a live show for Candela later this month. That’s HUGE.

Contrast that with the distribution of Campaign 1 and the first 19 episodes of Campaign 2. CR cannot host those videos themselves; Geek & Sundry still exists and still holds what I presume to be distribution rights (but I don’t have the contract to review). So G&S gets to host those videos on YouTube and reaps the advertising. I can’t speak to whatever share CR gets from that, but considering that CR is locked out of hosting their own copies of those videos, I doubt it’s much, if any, revenue. (If you’re wondering why CR just didn’t buy those rights back, I ask: what incentive does G&S have to sell something that’s making them money for no cost?)

Knowing that background about G&S, I was wary of CR choosing Amazon to host and distribute The Legend of Vox Machina. Originally, TLOVM was not the plan; CR had a kickstarter for an animated special based on C1. It was only because they blew past the goal that CR was able to make an entire season. The reasonable assumption is that choosing Amazon had to have secured CR additional funding for future seasons of the show, which seems evident from how quickly season 2 was announced, Mighty Nein Animated is also going to be a thing, and that season 3 of TLVOM is scheduled for fall 2024. CR had the option of just doing 1 season and keeping it purely in their control, but going with Amazon meant they could animate more of their works. Animation is expensive. I cannot stress enough how doubtful I am that CR would have been able to afford this many episodes and both campaigns if they had not gone this route. As wary as I was in the start, it paid off, and it’s going well—so far. Hopefully CR doesn’t regret that decision if Amazon tries something sleazy. But, as before, we don’t have the contracts and can’t know how secure CR’s position is if any dispute came up.

CR also partnered with Dark Horse Comics to make Vox Machina comics and Might Nein Origins comics. What’s especially surprising is that each of the cast had a hand in writing the MNO comics for their characters, with Matt listed for multiple. That isn’t very common with comic adaptations. Often times, IP owners let comic companies go ham with minimal oversight. Being listed as one of the authors comes with IP rights that have to be negotiated. That means that Dark Horse had to talk with CR about whether that warrants more or less revenue going to which party in exchange for that—or, alternatively, whether the comic gets made at all. That’s a ballsy move. You think people can just demand to write the comics that a publishing company is going to pay to print? Pffft. CR wanted some creative control, and that is a big ask. However, Dark Horse still has the distribution rights, both digitally and for physical copies. You couldn’t buy the comics from CR until they came out with the library edition, a book bound compilation of 4/8 comics. But the publisher is still Dark Horse; CR is just allowed to sell the book directly from their own site as well.

Contrast that with the novels about CR characters. CR partnered with Penguin Random House to publish novels about Vex and Vax (Kith & Kin), Lucien (The Nine Eyes of Lucien), and Laudna (What Doesn’t Break). Liam and Laura were vocal about having some say in K&K, whereas Madeline Roux said in an interview that she had full control over TNEOL. Both of those novels were narrated with CR voices, but narrating a book doesn’t come with IP rights, it just brings in a paycheck. There’s a lot less IP control in there compared to the comics, but this isn’t abnormal for book publishing. To be blunt, I doubt PRH would have agreed to publish the novels if anyone from CR had been a co-author or had heavy oversight over the author or the editing. I don’t think PRH even considered that as an option. Either an author that has already managed to sell X number of copies or nothing. Creative control over a book a huge ask, asks come with reduced revenue, and switching to books from a web series is already a leap. The fact that Laura and Liam had any say is surprising, really.

That was a long meandering tour of what we’ve seen CR do with its IP. The reason I bring up each of these things is that navigating the way to protect an IP in this space is rife with challenges. Different types of IP warrant different strategies because of the cost involved in creating each medium and the challenges placed by industries that have already sprung up around them. Any time that a third party is tapped to create an IP, it’s usually because they already have the funds and resources to create the work, and CR has to negotiate for revenue, creative control, distribution, and—the big one—who gets to be the owner. These are not easy, quick, or fun conversations, and CR is always going to be the smaller company at the table.

Knowing that, I’m not surprised or worried that CR is creating its own independent subscription service with Beacon. It tells me that they’re being careful with their IP whenever they can. A subscription service means they don’t have to trade away distribution rights or give up ad revenue to a third party. They’re in this for a long term investment, and that requires solid income not tied to third parties that can definitely outspend them in litigation in the event of a dispute. A subscription for bonus content is one of many parts in a diverse revenue stream.

(All that said, this isn’t meant to criticize creators that cant afford to do this type of thing. It took 9 years for CR to get to the point where Beacon is financially feasible and a desirable business decision. They have enough ongoing, popular content to warrant paying for a subscription, and they’ve built sufficient trust with their audience that more will be added. That takes time and an awful lot of money.)

As a final note, I take this step as a sign that CR definitely intends to stick around. This isn’t a move people make when they plan on ending the business after the current campaign. I’m glad to see CR is taking steps to secure their foundation and keep making new content.

I’m sure people will chime in on other issues (cost, content exclusivity, etc.), but I hope my perspective gives an idea of why this sort of thing is good for business generally and why it would be good for CR.

[demonslayedher]

You might recall I made a comic about Tanjiro's most dastardly Taisho Secret being that he adds charcoal as a secret ingredient in his rice.

EDIT: Please note that charcoal itself is indigestible, and Japanese charcoal is cooked to a very high level of purity. Please do not randomly stuff for lighting a barbecue into your rice, as I cannot make any claims about how safe that stuff is.

@reicchel remembered the aforementioned comic, and when we saw bamboo charcoal being sold with this advertised purpose, she gave me a look that said she wasn't going to let me get away with not putting it to the test. After all, I am kind of passionate about Japanese charcoal and its cultural implications, as well as how that gets used in Kimetsu no Yaiba (see here and here and here). I also usually only bother cooking if I'm doing a Kimetsu Kitchen thing (the posts specifically about the characters' favorite foods are here, but everything KnY-food related is in the tag.)

I have had no chance to even open the package of bamboo charcoal until now. This is partly because I have been busy out of my brains with work and partly because I hate cooking and am therefore loathe to add even one more step. However, this was the easiest Kimetsu Kitchen experiment I've ever done.

Bamboo charcoal is often sold as a natural dehumidifier, odor absorber, and bug-repellent to throw in your cabinets and stuff, but this was sold as clean enough for using in rice cookers and jugs of water for making mineral water (which I haven't done yet, seeing as I was too lazy to even open the package until today).

Speaking of today, I was having Mugen Ressha feels so I decided to recreate Tanjiro's dream meal, which happened to include Rengoku's favorite, satsuma-imo miso soup. That's become one of my favorite Kimetsu Kitchen recipes, though I haven't made it for a while, because I am lazy and busy. I do make a lot of miso soup because once you open a container of miso you have to use it really consistently to have any chance of using it all up, but satsuma-imo miso takes a little extra time and effort to get the potatoes all nice and soft, so lately I just through in some tororo konbu (Iguro's favorite food). I also picked up some nice big yellow takuan to make it closer to the Mugen Ressha meal, and since I was experimenting with bamboo charcoal and Takeo has bamboo in his name, might as well as what dream!Takeo likes to snag from big bro.

So anyway, the charcoal!rice got done.

Since I'm been so busy with work, that means I am in the habit of slamming food quickly instead of taking the time to enjoy it, so I'm just eating quick and easy and not especially enticing food while distracting myself with YouTube videos. This evening, after doing more weekend work, cleaning up the kitchen so I could set up the above photo, and putting aside leftovers, I was pleased with the photo result but then automatically went back to the YouTube video I had been semi-watching as I sat down and started putting food in my mouth without pausing to consider saying something like "itadakimasu."

But then I paused--

----what had I put in my mouth?

Why was it... so heavenly????????

Like, I legit froze with my chopsticks in the air as I started chewing that first little bite of white rice. It was exactly as I had Tanjiro describe it in that silly piece of fanart: "The natural minerals in the charcoal act on the rice to make it soft and fluffy."

Softest, fluffiest rice I've ever had, easily. But it's also exactly as the other Corp members cannot help but exclaim--how is it so freaking good!?

So like... I took my time with that meal. I chewed, slowly, thoroughly, like you're supposed to. The takuan and satsuma-imo miso soup likewise tasted simple and wonderful. It was best while the rice was warm, and I don't know how my leftovers will taste tomorrow, but I'm looking forward to it.

And I'm gonna make some mineral water too. The charcoal enthusiasts sure were not kidding about this rice.

[stellafrin]

Looking threw the Exedra tag it seems the way things have been done during the Scene 0 update has caused some confusion so I guess I'm gonna make a quick post about them instead of replying to random people.

First and foremost is how Scene 0 itself has been implemented for the time being.

It seems it's been introduced as Event to lower the requirements to access the story for now but it will not be staying in the Event section. In the in-game news post it clarifies it'll be added to the main story section at some undisclosed date instead of the Event Archive.

Next is the change/addition to the new daily Free Fate Weave and how the notification advertised being able to get a free 5☆ key.

The event's Free Fate Weave will actually be giving out Medals like the other Fate Weaves with it's own shop that let's you buy keys (like the Legacy Medal shop) instead of specific characters.

If you're doing your free pulls that's a single medal every day with a total of 31 (maybe 32?) for the entire banner period.

With the costs and stock given that'll be:

15 days for the 5☆ key

15 days for all 3 4☆ keys

10 days for the 5 normal keys

And 5 days for the Cubes

So after you've gotten you 5☆ key on the 13th you'll have to decide on weather you want the 4☆ keys or normal ones. Not much of a decision really...

(EDIT: redoing the math, you may get 1 more medal than I was expecting in those 7 hours after everything refreshes on the final day but before the banner ends so you'd have enough for an extra normal Key instead of wasting your final Medal on a Cube.)

And finally, not something I've seen anyone mention yet but the last time these kinda Missions showed up tied to the Heartphial Quests there was a huge discussion about them all being worthless other than a few.

At the time I decided to work threw the numbers but ultimately gave up on making a post showing what'd actually be worth it depending on how far you were but since I've already done that work I'll just dump that info here now.

First of all, the 4☆ Key and 4☆ Medal are givens.

It starts getting more complicated when you get to the Heartsand and rest.

Uh, or it was last time. I was double checking my math and it seems I don't need to for the Heartsand, instead of the absurdly low quantities they gave us last time, this time it's 8 of the large ones totaling 80k Heartphial EXP which is FAR more than what even the Farris Wheel Nightmare gives in a single fight (almost 26k split across the whole party)

Ok, so, moving on to the rest then.

The remaining 4 Missions will give you 100k, 150k, and 200k EXP and 300 Prism Gems.

You'd basically be trading a Hearphial Quest (5hr 48min) for about 8hr 17min, 12hr 30min, and 16hr 34min worth of EXP and 6hr 13min of Prism Gems if you're at Rank 20 Upgrade Quests.

Ultimately it depends on whether you think that is a good trade or if you're working on getting Heartphial levels for the 4 3☆ that don't have 4☆ versions and still finding how far you can push them.

tldr on the Heartphial Quest Missions. Key, Medal, and Heartsand are more than worth it while the Upgrade Quest rewards are up to you to decide on your own.

[zeehasablog]

"Rutherford" - Victorian Button-Gaiter shoes

I have been sitting on this for a little while because I had no idea how to take good pictures of shoes O_Ou

Thus; I don't have several pictures to accompany this post, like I normally would!

I have liberated the swatches from the Vampires GP , and applied them to more Victorian-era shoes.

These are called "Gaiter", or "Button ", or "Button-Gaiter " shoes or boots: the leather bottom part is attached to an upper which closes with buttons instead of laces (which look like spats, which are separate, and arrive more during the Edwardian era). The upper could be leather, but also could be a different fabric altogether; and is usually in a different colour to the rest of the shoe.

(Above is an advertisement from 1881 from Henry Arthur Co.)

The Vampires GP shoe has 12 swatches, and I haven't changed this - personally, I would only use a couple of these, but I've kept the rest should you feel the need to go wild haha. These are found in Masculine, Teen to Elder in CAS.

(please ignore any issues you see with the images above, believe me it looks better on a Sim in the game, and also it was a lot harder than I expected to get it where it is now)

I also made 3D buttons, which by itself didn't seem like an issue, but attaching them to a piece of clothing is REALLY ANNOYING, they don't natively move with that piece of clothing, and I had to go through a lot of learning to try get weights right, and have fixes done in CASTools. So much testing, so much head banging. I ALMOST gave up on them.

So! Now they're done, I am not going to touch them again 🙃

I have uploaded the "Rutherford" shoes for you to download at Curseforge here!

Enjoy!

(Footnote: are people okay with me uploading these things to Curseforge?? I am only uploading things I've made, or adapted from 3D models and EA stuff; not any recolours, edits, or conversions from other cc creators. Any downloads I get in Curseforge will go towards a points system, which eventually turn to dollars, which helps support me)

~~ Terms Of Use ~~

[eswel]

The Gojo memorial: the whole story

You may already seen that here in Chile people created a shrine in the subway in order to honour Satoru Gojo. I'll try to recreate the entire chain of events as far as I could gather in social media for everyone's convenience, so you can read about the whole thing in just one post. Buckle up, because we're in for a ride, this story is really good. More under the cut.

Thursday (september 21)

There was an advertisement by Crunchyroll promoting the series at some subway stations. A few people decided to bring some flowers and messages as offering to the character.

(Source)

The thing started to quickly escalate and soon more people started to leave messages, flowers and candles.

I remember seeing a picture of someone from the staff of Metro cleaning the offerings with a broom. I tried to search for it now, but I can't find it anymore. It got buried by the flood of tweets.

*Edit* I found the picture. Someone shared it again.

Friday (september 22)

The next day the memorial became huge. You may think that people were being serious about the whole thing of setting a memorial , but most messages and drawings were humourous. A few of them:

"Steal the sky"

"Paradise won an angel"

"The sky is bluer because of your eyes"

"Fly high"

"The moon will be more beautiful with you up there"

"You'll be the brightest star"

"You broke my heart in two"

"Exorcise the sky"

"You gave everything, my king"

"Gojo lives"

There was even drawings making fun of what happened to him. People patched him up with band-aids and tape. Well, that's our kind of humour, we chileans can have a dark sense of humour.

(Source)

Even some people in cosplay showed up.

In the late hours of the day, the security guards started to dismantle the shrine, just like the previous day. Then they were assigned to custody the advertisement.

(Source)

(Source)

Saturday (september 23)

The next morning Metro changed their minds and allowed the messages and drawings, but they said that candles were forbidden, because they're dangerous. Understandable.

The event had started to make it to the online versions of the news media, but also in the print version for it appeared on the front page of one of the major newspapers. They dedicated 3 pages surrounding the whole thing. One for the memorial itself, one for the cultural importance of the religious practice known as "animitas" and one for the social impact of anime.

(Source)

The shrine continued to grow and people started to leave other offerings like sunglasses and even gummies and chocolates. You see, in our culture when people set up animitas usually they leave things that the person liked. I've never seen this anime and I don't know the character. Does he likes candy? You guys tell me.

(Source)

Sunday (september 24)

By the time I'm writing this post is sunday. I heard the rumour that Crunchyroll called Metro to retire the advertisement, but I cannot confirm if this is true or not. Also, I have the feeling that the whole situation can even appear on TV, considering that we have 2 TV channels dedicated solely to anime, but that would be on monday. We'll see. If I see any new development in the saga of the Gojo memorial I'll update this post.

UPDATE:

Part 2

Part 3

[diyaokonel]

New Edith and again Welsh and Shedar !

You can watch it here :

You can also find this video on YouTube :

[wingzie]

Speaking to the media as a UK Army

Earlier in the week I mentioned in a local group chat that the UK’s attitude towards BTS and KPOP overall had changed. It felt like everyone was excited during Dynamite and then interest was quickly lost. Things got worse after the Festa Dinner. Because of previous experiences with a certain boy group, it was reported that the members would never return. These stories were soon edited, but it was obvious that there was a certain bias against the members now. The previous hype posts for them and their new releases were less present. Instead, we have gone back to having to do everything ourselves during chapter 2. 

As I am sure many of you are aware, it has already been a tough week for UK Army. We found out that MUSE had inclusions, making it harder to chart. We got backlash from solos for something that wasn’t our fault and the emails we sent were ignored or received weird responses. We are a resilient bunch though and we continued to promote and gain more funds. I figured that things for us couldn’t get any worse. I was wrong. On Sunday I was sent an article from the BBC by a friend. They asked my thoughts on it and I quickly understood why. Something else worried me though. I recognized the journalist. He is someone that we have history with. He kindly wrote about Persona and Wembley in 2019, but he also sneaked in a line that he thought that the members were miming through the concert. At the time, a few Army tried talking to him about it on Twitter and he was receptive to the feedback. I decided to try and do the same and to do it privately in the DM’s. Something which he told me himself that he appreciated. I spent a good amount of time drafting my message. I made sure that it was polite, but also included the reasons why a certain part of the article was troublesome. During this, a friend of mine also made a detailed thread correcting the misinformation. Once the message was sent, I went on with my day and waited to see if I would get a reply. Much to my surprise, I did indeed get a reply. I don’t have consent to share our messages, but we replied back and forth a few times and he said that he would look into changing the wording. I quoted my friend's thread, explaining that I messaged him privately and that he was working on it. As someone who posts about Jikook on a regular basis, you could say that I am used to getting unnecessary abuse. However, I was not fully prepared for the response to this. As more hours passed and there weren't any changes made, the more anger and hate I received. This greatly confused me, as I wasn’t the one who wrote the article itself. I just wanted to try and help and we had to be patient. 

A day later the edit was made. I messaged the journalist again to thank him and he responded back, explaining that the reason it took so long was because there was a debate internally about the best way to respond. I then shared on TL about the edit being made. It wasn’t the best edit, but that’s all we got. Unfortunately, the hate towards myself increased even more. Some said that the article was my fault, that I failed BTS or that I was an anti. Plus a few words that I daren’t repeat here. Some saw what was happening to me and sent kind support. These included people who I have never interacted with before and I will be forever thankful for that. I also spoke with some about the response of the general public towards the article. The article was heavily advertised so there were discussions in relation to Seventeen going to Glastonbury. This hasn’t been done before so some were curious and some were confused. It was interesting to see the reaction to it, even if it was poorly written. I was personally exhausted though.

This whole ordeal started on Sunday and I woke up on Tuesday still feeling a bit wary of receiving more hate. On top of this, I had gained around 300 more followers from all of this and didn’t know how they would react once I started posting Jikook. If I’m honest, I felt a bit uncomfortable with everything going on. What did shock me though, is that some of these new followers were going through my “pinned” post and liking the threads on Jikook. It made me a bit self-conscious, but I didn’t want it to overcome me and Jimin’s promotions though, so I came up with an idea. 

July is my Birthday month and to celebrate I am doing a giveaway for other UK Army. This gives them a chance to get any albums they currently do not own and to try and boost sales for Jimin at the same time. The UK fanbase don’t really want to be associated with me because of my account, so I decided to do everything myself. To help boost morale, positivity and the community spirit that Army has. Overall, I do not regret reaching out to the journalist. He was rather difficult to speak to, but an edit deserved to be made for the way in which it was written. I appreciate the discussion we had and those that supported me. My focus will continue to be on Chapter 2. Look after yourselves and each other. 

[aesethewitch]

Advertisement Adversaries #1: "Narcissist Shield Spell"

Hello, and welcome to Advertisement Adversaries! I'm Aese, a witch of many years with a background in marketing/advertising and business writing/editing. This series aims to dissect unethical, unfair, deceptive, and just plain Not Good marketing strategies found in the witchcraft community. We also cover legitimate sellers to highlight good marketing, listings, and business practices! The goal is to improve the legit witches' businesses and educate folks on scams, grifts, and marketing manipulations.

You can read more about this project here (Tumblr) or here (my website).

Each entry covers one listing from a seller's catalogue. I score the listing on a scale of one to five in six categories: Clarity, Transparency, Presence, Genuineness, Verifiability, and Morality. Legitimate sellers get an extra category of Attractiveness/Advice for Improvement.

Now, let's have a look at today's entry into this series:

Advertisement Details

Who is the advertiser -- or who do they claim to be? Who is their apparent primary audience? What are they selling? What's their tone? What's the vibe? What are the first impressions?

This post covers a seller who will remain anonymous. They claim to be a hereditary magical practitioner of some renown, descending from (or, at least, related to) Famous Witch Trial Witches. The hereditary part may be true; they talk elsewhere about their family's practices, but it's all in very general terms, so it's tough to tell. The Famous Witch Trial Witches thing is nonsense, if only because the witch trials weren't actually about trying Real Witches. I suggest @/breelandwalker's podcast Hex Positive for a good, basic rundown of this.

They sell a variety of spell services via the Ko-Fi shop function. I settled on this particular listing at random. In general, the vibe is… not good. The first impression is positively rancid. Check out just the shop image:

All of the pictures for these spell service listings are AI generated. Check out the smudged, nonsensical details in the crown above the shield. Note, also, how it's uneven; an actual artist would've used their software to copy parts of this shield to make it symmetrical.

Now, this would be a big red flag on its own, but the seller claims to do magic primarily (or, at least, most powerfully) by doing art. Sit with that for a moment and really consider the implications here.

The overall tone of the shop is one of authority and superiority. Not so bad on its own, but again, the listing claims that the caster is of dubious hereditary lineage. A reddish flag, personally. But most listings you'll find claim authority and superiority, because confidence sells. That part is very normal.

The primary audience for this particular spell is obvious: vulnerable people who are in abusive situations and who either don't know or don't care about using ableist language.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder and various conditions categorized as "sociopathy" are mental health conditions, not insults. People with these conditions are not naturally villains, and people without these conditions can be fucking horrible. Using the popularized demonization of these conditions to sell hundred-dollar "spell services" to people dealing with abuse is, and I cannot emphasize this enough, shitty fucking behavior.

Any seller who tries to take advantage of abuse victims, people who are ill mentally or physically, young people, or assortedly vulnerable and/or desperate people is automatically suspect. Even if their services are legitimate, their marketing strategy hinges on preying on the unwary. And that makes them an actual piece of shit, in my humble opinion.

Clarity

How clear is the language? Does it use a bunch of obscure terms or talk in circles? Is it obvious what the buyer will receive based on this listing alone?

The language itself is pretty much fine. This description is pretty straightforward. It's expressive and doesn't use a ton of jargon or obscure terms to describe what it's selling. Overall, not bad with regards to clarity of language.

The only head-scratcher for me is this mention of the "three bodies," which are apparently physical, astral, and dream:

It isn't clear from the listing alone what this actually means. It scans as someone either trying to sound mystical or someone who is using technical terms that they use all the time and don't realize aren't in common use elsewhere. Six of one, half a dozen of the other.

The listing is clear in that the seller is going to cast a spell on your behalf to create a shield which is tethered to you and which will protect you from various abusive people and energies. However, it isn't clear how this actually works, how you're going to know that the spell is done, or what method is being used to cast this spell.

Under the "how it works" heading, we get one sentence: "Upon purchase, you will receive your Digital Spell Instruction Guide within minutes."

Hang on. Why do I need instructions? What do the instructions tell me? What steps am I going to have to take? Do I need to have some kind of expertise in energy work, or even just a rudimentary understanding of it?

I don't know, because that's all it says. This is my primary issue with this listing, I think, aside from the obvious ableist bullshit. I know nothing about this service except that the seller promises to do it. I don't know how proof is provided or if it's provided at all.

As far as the quality of Clarity goes, I'm giving this listing 2/5, docking one point for not explaining the weird three-body thing and two for the obscurity around how this spell actually works and what that "instruction guide" is.

Transparency

Is the seller honest about their refund/returns policy? Is it obvious where materials are being sourced? Is the seller being honest and clear about their credentials and/or qualifications?

The refunds policy is clearly stated near the end of the listing. Some sellers (like myself) put it in the terms and conditions section under Ko-Fi listings. Either way is fine by me, as long as it's somewhere.

I do have one problem here… The listing says "following Ko-Fi's guidelines," yes? Well, take a peep at this official link from Ko-Fi's refunds policy page). Note how it doesn't say anything about forbidding refunds on shop purchases. On the contrary, that link tells you exactly how to give a refund on a shop purchase and what'll happen if you issue one (the buyer won't be able to re-download any digital content, and they'll get their money back via whatever method they used to make the purchase).

Having a no-refunds policy is honestly whatever. That's a personal choice; there are processing fees all over the place, and it's draining to have to cover those. And there are issues with people buying from shops, downloading their goodies, and then demanding unfair refunds, essentially stealing from the seller. Again, whatever. But hiding behind a non-existent policy? Not exactly transparent, is it?

Now, again, as stated before, we can't know based on this listing alone how the spell is being cast, what materials are being used or where they're sourced, or really anything else about the actual process of the spell. We know what it's supposed to do once it's been cast, but nothing else. That's major points docked.

And again, I'm not buying the whole generational wizard thing. I did some digging, which I won't detail here as it would be really uncool (erring on a call-out, which this is not). But just know this: The dubious nature of the Hereditary Magic is… certainly dubious. A family of practitioners, sure; the rest? Uncertain.

In total, I'm giving this listing a generous 2/5 for Transparency.

Presence

Is the seller present anywhere other than their shop? Do they share anything about their process, method, or practice anywhere? Are they actually part of a community, or are they just selling something?

So, this seller has a Tumblr blog. It's how I found them, actually. This seller is, I shit you not, the reason this project kicked off.

So, yes. I dove into this person's online presence, and I didn't really like what I saw. What I generally look for is original content that isn't paywalled, talks about the individual's practice, is informative in some way, and/or is having an active conversation with someone else.

What I found was inane commentary on other peoples' posts, wordless reblogs of beginner witch content, reblogs from one of their other blogs (an art blog, if you're curious), and posts advertising their shop. I found some older posts that were, like, reblog games and very surface-level boasting about how Cool And Powerful They Are.

The only original post I unearthed in my two hours of scrolling was also on their Ko-Fi page, actually. It detailed research they'd done into… um. "Mana." Their sources were… about as dubious as their claims to Witch Trial Ancestry. Pop culture witchcraft is extremely cool, and I respect practitioners a whole lot. You go, PCM/PCP community.

I really can't stand people who declare that their way is the Only Way, and that people who believe differently from them are Fundamentally Wrong. As if there aren't many ways of doing magic.

I'm being pretty ungenerous here, but that's mostly because this same article's "research" cites a "scientific article" which directs to a website selling you Law of Attraction manifestation journals. I shit you not. It's barely-researched, unverified personal gnosis stemming from anime, one book, and an article I'm 95% certain they didn't read past the title.

Anyways, this person gets a 1/5 for Presence in my book. If you're not actively and genuinely engaging with the community you're trying to sell to, you're not worth my time.

Genuineness

Are listing photos genuine? Are any images AI, or is any copy written by an AI? Is this a real person selling something, or is this a bot account?

Holy actual shit, though. An Art Magician using AI-generated images? That's a level of bullshit I didn't think I'd get on the first entry in this series.

This person gets exactly one point for being a real person. They've changed that shop name and their stated expertise/most powerful magic too many times for this to be a bot.

They get another point for writing their own shop listings, as far as I can tell. A lot of it is copy-pasted (badly, sometimes), but I'm only grading this one listing for the purposes of this review. So, they get the point.

There are no other photos in the listing. All you get is that shitty AI-generated shield.

Genuineness gets a very kind 2/5.

Verifiability

Is it obvious how a buyer will know their service is completed? Is it possible for the buyer to know? Are there any reviews verifying the quality/existence of the products or services? Are there negative reviews available?

That's a big, fat fuck no on all counts, folks. As covered above, there's no way for a prospective buyer to know or understand how the service will be completed or how it's even done in the first place based on this listing alone. Even if you wanted to see this person's casting methods, you couldn't! They don't really talk about their methods anywhere except in vague terms. Which, okay, fine, keep your secrets, it's a classic Magic Thing to be secretive. But when you're selling your services, your buyers have to know what they're buying from you! They gotta be able to VERIFY the services!

There are also no reviews, period, that I can find -- positive or negative. Part of that may be that very few of these listings have any sales. I know they don't, because a couple of them do, and they show the number in the shop. Either nobody's buying, or they cycle through listings so the numbers don't show.

This particular listing gets a 0/5 for Verifiability.

Morality

Are they offering services related to health, mental health, legal services, or other dubious subjects? Are they knowingly targeting a vulnerable audience using buzzwords and inflammatory language? Is the listing sharing misinformation or encouraging belief in conspiracy theories? Does the listing contain debunkable information? Does the listing participate in bigotry, cultural appropriation, bioessentialism, or anything of that nature?

This particular listing doesn't discuss anything medical, legal, or otherwise questionable. Nothing about bigotry or anything like that, either. No outright misinformation that I can spot, unless you're considering this whole listing misinformation. No points given or taken away, because the bar is honestly in hell for this category. The absence of shitty behavior is not praise-worthy.

We've talked already about how this listing is specifically targeting people in abusive situations. That alone is really shitty, and I've made my case about it. I've also made my case about the ableism thing, which is straight-up not acceptable. No need to beat either dead horse.

I want to draw attention to the little blurb right at the top of this listing. This one, that talks about buying sooner rather than later due to limited offerings:

Let me state, there's nothing inherently wrong with using "limited" advertising language. I've done it for my own limited time listings. It's pretty standard.

However, remember who this listing is for. If an abuse victim reads that, they're already likelier to be desperate and willing to overlook red flags to jump on a deal before it's gone forever. For reference, all listings do use this language. Therefore, I'm interpreting this as simply thoughtless and in bad taste, rather than actively malicious.

Overall, this listing gets a 1/5 for Morality from me.

Average Score & Summary

The average of all six scores comes out to a rating of 1.3/5. Really, really bad.

Now, I want to be clear, this review isn't an accusation that this listing (or this shop) is a scam. I do think this seller has some grifting tendencies that need serious fixing.

If this is a legitimate seller, they're clearly copying shitty scams they've seen elsewhere -- Etsy, for example. This honestly strikes me as someone who doesn't really know what they're doing with regards to selling their services, so they default to the worst possible practices. Either that, or this is someone who's made up an identity to sell you absolutely nothing at $100 per empty promise. I'd like to give the benefit of the doubt and believe that this seller is just trying to make a living.

To that, I say, go make a living without deliberately taking advantage of people.

This listing, and this seller's entire shop, are emblematic of the biggest sins of magical marketing. It's full of catchy buzzwords and no substance. Promises made without explanation or proof of product. This seller has nothing to offer you but fake pictures and their word. Again, even if these services are genuine, and I very much doubt it based on what I'm seeing up for sale, this listing (and all other listings on this Ko-Fi page) prove that this seller is willing to do whatever it takes to get your money into their pocket.

Personally, I wouldn't buy it.

Final Notes

Many sellers in this series anonymous for a reason. Please do not go find these people. Even if I'm exposing a blatant scam to warn people about it, do not harass anyone. Harassment of any kind will not be tolerated. When appropriate, I attempt to contact the seller(s) to discuss their ads and listings or report them where possible. Again, do not attempt to contact or bother the sellers, even if my coverage of them is negative.

If you spot an ad or a product listing in the wild that you want me to see or cover, send me a link, a screenshot, or the name of the shop. You can send it via ask or DM on Tumblr or to thewitchaese@gmail.com. Or, if you're a legitimate seller and want me to take a look at your listings (anonymous or not), shoot me a message or an email to chat about it! Examples of what to do are just as important as examples of what not to do, after all.

And, if you enjoy this series or my other work, please consider dropping a couple dollars in my tip jar! Writing is my full-time gig, and contributions help keep this boat afloat.

Thanks for reading!

[kazoosandfannypacks]

Here's a few rules of internet ettiquette, particularly for tumblr and ao3. You aren't required to do any of this, but if you'd like to make the internet a nicer place to be in, follow these simple guidelines:

Comment on any fic you finish. If you enjoyed it enough not to click away, you can leave a "hey I enjoyed this!" If you don't know what to say, just mention a favorite scene or line or add a "thanks for writing this!"

If you're reading a fic on tumblr and you made it to the end of it and enjoyed it, it's courtesy to reblog it.

If you reblog an ask game from someone, you should send them an ask with a couple questions from it. If someone reblogs an ask game from you, you should do the same.

Remember, ask games are not about "I desparately need to know what color socks my mutual is wearing," they're about "I care about my mutual, and my mutual would love to know I care about them enough to ask them to talk about what color socks they're wearing."

If you request a drawing from an artist, a fic from a writer, a gifset or moodboard from an editor, or anything from any creator, you should reblog it. Just like the best advertising is word of mouth, the best way for your author to get their work seen and reblogged by others is for you to reblog it.

Don't steal gifs. If you see a gif you want to add onto a post, click the "GIF" box and search for it. (Most of tumblr's search is often screwed up, but this isn't. If you type several of the unique tags from the creator's post into the GIF search bar, you'll probably find it.)

The above also applies to using other people's gifs to make edits— don't steal gifs. If you're making an edit and the only clip of that scene is in a gif you didn't make, that's not an excuse to steal it. However, creators are community, not competition. As a gifmaker, if someone said "hey, I wanna use this scene in an edit, where did you find it?" I would be more than willing to send them a link to it, or even find a way to send them the scene itself.

If you want a creator to keep posting stuff you love, encourage that stuff. Do you like someone's creations? Reblog them. Leave a comment when they post. DM or message them about your favorite scenes. Your encouragement is the difference between posting and giving up for a creator out there.

[jasper-book-stash]

April 2025 Reading Wrap-Up

Tried something new this time, I made this post early in April and updated it with the books I read as I finished them so I still had my thoughts fresh in my mind. I think I like this approach, I'll be continuing it until I forget.

I read a total of fifteen books this month. I was in a big "study Shintoism" mood because I'm doing a lot of writing for my blorbos over on @azzie-beastbinder, but overall a lot of the books I read were in the nonfiction or occult part of my shelf. I really need to get back to reading all of this fiction I have on my bookshelf, I'm running out of TBR room.

Anyway, the moral of this month is "it's bad enough if your book is boring, it's a bigger sin if your editing is shit".

1/10 - Why Did They Publish This?

None applicable.

2/10 - Trash

None applicable.

3/10 - Meh

Elemental Spirits: Building A Magical Practice In An Animistic World | Jaq D Hawkins

I wanted to like this book, I really did. It was so promising. But the problems just kept stacking up over and over. Between the unsafe offering recommendations (putting HUMAN FOOD like CAKES into WATERWAYS), jacking off about Stonehenge, using faeries and spirits interchangeably which just got weird after a while... And the worst sin of all was that it got repetitive. There were things that made me think in this book, but I eventually tapped out because I just couldn't take it anymore.

Easy Reading Series: The Yengishiki Or Shinto Rituals | unknown author

So, this is basically a paper version of a free PDF I could have gotten. The formatting sucks actual ass, there are nearly no paragraph breaks (which is worth its own bitch in and of itself), and the translation is janky as hell. There aren't even 25 pages of information in here, most of it is just...bad. Not worth the money.

Scorpion Chronicles: A Comprehensive Exploration Of Arachnid Predators And The Realm Of Stingers. | M.sc. Ava Arachno

So this is one of those poorly-formatted books that feels like a bunch of blog posts were made into a book. Despite having around 190 pages, there is very little information in here that just gets repeated over and over in large font. It's like if a children's encyclopedia didn't have any pictures. And that's to say nothing of the shitty editing work.

4 to 6/10 - Mid-Tier

Shinto: The Way Of The Gods: Introduction To The Traditional Religion Of Japan | Vincent Miller

First and foremost, I cannot stress enough that they needed a proper fucking editor. Half of my time going through this book was spent fixing editing issues or making notes about where paragraph breaks should have been. The information isn't horrible, it just had quite a bit of weird phrasing and helped define a lot of stuff, it's just...looking at the writing and the editing, I cannot, in good faith, give it anything higher than a 5 out of 10. (Also, the publisher seems to pump out a lot of dieting books that they advertised in the back...not great.)

The Municipalists | Seth Fried

This was not a bad book. It just was not interesting to me. There's a lot of worldbuilding in here, which is great for something sci-fi, but it often cut down on the characters actually having a conversation; they would just summarize the conversations about half of the time, even with the ones that are, you know, crucial for character development and interaction. It also took me 70 pages to finally get into it, only to tap out at page 106 and just read the last two chapters. I'm sure it's plenty interesting, but it wasn't that interesting to me. Also a 5 out of 10.

Pegasus 1977 | National Poetry Press

This is one of those "I picked up some random poetry books from a secondhand store" type of books. For the most part, the poems were...passable? Not bad considering the year...I think? I can't actually find information on this book online anywhere. Also the mythological pegasus never gets mentioned even once. If anyone knows what the fuck is up with this, uh, let me know. Giving it a 4 out of 10 because it dragged on so long.

7 to 8/10 - Good With Caveats

Mimusubi Essays On Shinto 5: Shinto Practice For Non-Japanese | David Chart

So this is actually a published duo of Patreon essays, but none of the other duos of essays have paper versions that I could get easily. There's a lot of good info in here that built on what I got from Vincent Miller's book. The font is so fucking small though, which I imagine is how the author got all that detail into so few pages (the book is marked as having 49 pages on my spreadsheet). 7 out of 10, hard for me to read but I liked what I got out of it.

DISCLAIMER! One of the shrines referenced in this booklet as an American shrine is apparently bad enough that it has an entire blog dedicated to exposing information about it. That can be found here: Exposing Tsubaki Grand Shrine of America.

Amaterasu: Return Of The Sun: A Japanese Myth | Paul D Storrie, Ron Randall [Juvenile]

This is an incredibly short and simple graphic novel/comic book retelling a version of the Amaterasu myth, with enough given context of previous myths to figure out what's important here. Very generic looking artwork, but lovely character designs. The author and artist chose a version of the myth appropriate to its target age demographic. This is an 8 out of 10.

The Gay Agenda: A Modern Queer History & Handbook | Ashley Molesso, Chess Needham

This is overall a fine enough book that I enjoyed and learned from, but there are some problems I had with it.

While there's a strong aesthetic present thanks to the artwork of Ash + Chess (I actually have a tarot deck by them and didn't realize this was by the same people until I recognized the art style because I just…don't read the author names of books at first), it also has the problem of being really hard to read thanks to small font and background and font colors that don't work together well on several pages. It's very United States-centric, which I did not realize going in. Some of the terminology used in here feels like they're trying too hard to be "hip" and there are a few places where things that were objectively bad were referred to as "really lame". Finally, I found the last chunk (the "handbook" section meant to include guides and information) to be…far less useful than a dedicated book to queer identities, and it suddenly has a section pointedly addressing non-queer people even though the assumption across the rest of the text is that the person reading this book is already queer. There's also some parts back in the handbook section that treat asexual and aromantic as the exact same thing, and a focus on drag queens exclusively in the parts about drag throughout the book.

Despite these problems, this is still a pretty good book for a look at queer history in the United States, though I haven't dug into their sources myself just yet. I'd give it an 8 out of 10. I'm glad this book exists, I just think it could have been better if they had another pair of eyes on it.

9/10 - Very Very Good

Starter Villain | John Scalzi

It's so fucking stupid, I love it. You are sitting down across the bar from this guy while he fixes you a drink and tells you about the weirdest shit ever in his life. The dolphins get unionized. The protagonist blows up a satellite with a laser funded by the US Department of Agriculture. The cats type on keyboards. The events of this book are only going on in the course of about a week. Please read this book.

The Book Of Japanese Folklore: An Encyclopedia Of The Spirits, Monsters, And Yokai Of Japanese Myth: The Stories Of The Mischievous Kappa, Trickster Kitsune, Horrendous Oni, And More | Thersa Matsuura, Michelle Wang

This is a book I picked up on a whim from a "local" (read: 1 hour away) bookstore because I've been doing research to better write my blorbos. For the most part, I enjoyed this book, though I do have some mild complaints that not every entry has artwork (particularly those entries that could use the help of a few pages to get them on par with other entries). Other than that, I quite enjoyed it and got through it in the span of two days, which is pretty quick for a nonfiction read for me. It also introduced me to the bean man, which I cherish greatly.

A Popular Dictionary Of Shinto | Brian Bocking

Less of a book that one reads cover-to-cover and more of, well, a dictionary, it is nonetheless quite thorough and useful. I will be picking up my own copy, and I'm thankful that my library system had it so I could check it out before buying it.

10/10 - Unironically Recommend To Everyone

The Serviceberry: Abundance And Reciprocity In The Natural World | Robin Wall Kimmerer

So, if you know anything about me, it's that I loved Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer. It was one of my favorite books of 2023 and the Young Adult adaptation was one of my favorite books of 2024. So when I saw this in the little bookstore an hour away from my rural home (I shit you not, that's the most local bookstore I have), I scooped it up to give it a read too. And honestly? It was really fucking good. It's given me plenty to think about. If you're at all interested in Indigenous science, gift economies, or getting a new perspective, I recommend picking it up.

Ada Lace, Take Me To Your Leader | Emily Calandrelli, Tamson Weston, Renee Kurilla [Juvenile]

This is actually part of a slightly longer series of kid's books, but my family's had it for a little while (...but had never read it) because we're amateur radio ("ham radio") operators, just like Ada Lace in-story and Emily Calandrelli out-of-story. This is a delightful little book if you or someone else has never heard of ham radio before, or if you know a kid a young age bracket with a love for science. It doesn't get bogged down in the scientific details but it also doesn't hesitate to pause and explain things in-story.

A Quick & Easy Guide To Queer & Trans Identities | Mady G, Jules Zuckerberg [Young Adult]

This is basically a nonfiction graphic novel, and it is incredibly approachable and easy to read, even if the font is a little small. It's an easy introduction to the concept of queerness. I would definitely recommend it as a book to pick up if you're questioning or you know someone who's questioning. It's marked as being YA on Amazon but I could easily see this added to the Juvenile section of a library without issue.

[funkii4-blog]

NOTE: IGNORE ANYTHING WRITTEN IN BLUE, AS A MISUNDERSTANDING OCCURRED AND I TALKED ABOUT IT TOO SOON.

This take is most likely gonna be a piping hot one but it’s only fair I share it here too and do some ranting along with it since I’ve said it everywhere else:

The recent changes to the writers team as well as the supposed complete lack of communication within it is actively sabotaging the show and I would be perfectly fine with the show taking a hiatus if it meant that the team would take that time to get their shit together to improve their writing overall.

As you may or may not have known, early on in the year Kevin seemingly stepped back as head writer (not officially that I can recall but he’s had very few writing credits ever since chapter 4 of the PV saga began) and some new writers were hired starting with the episode Trash Friends, said writers being the Zamination bros Zach & Micah; X/Aaron and Medi/Paul have also been promoted to the most prominent major writers since then.

However, since these changes we’ve seen a very noticeable and steep decline in writing quality, most evident via the lore sections of 2024. They’ve all felt completely disconnected from the 2023 lore and even disconnected from each other at times. Not to mention there’s been a pretty severe mismatch between how the chapter-ending specials are advertise and how they actually turn out, but that’s a whole different ramble for another time.

Several months ago one of the Zam bros even admit to not having caught up on the early PV lore before writing for the later, which is a huge fuckup in itself that should not have happened; I made a post about it back in July when that circulated.

“But Funkii, where did you get the lack of communication thing from?” Hoo boy, allow me to present something I learned while chatting in the official discord yesterday.

We were discussing our dissatisfaction with the wotfi and the recent writing overall and someone stepped in with this (read bottom to top)

[MEDIA REMOVED]

I already wondered if the communication between writers for each episode was poor but it’s apparently literally nonexistent. Yikes, not a good look and definitely not a tactic that makes for good writing.

So basically Zach & Micah don’t know nearly enough about what they’re writing for, and then there’s Paul who notoriously relies too much on fanservice (+personal desires to a certain extent) for both his editing and writing. All of that makes the messiness of this year’s lore make a lot more sense to me.

Things of course got a bit crazy in chat after this and a large number of us reached this conclusion: the show needs to take a break, man. It doesn’t have to be for insanely long, it just needs to be long enough for the writers to fix their communication and overall consistency. I know I tend to be very impatient when it comes to waiting for new smg4 content, but if this were the circumstance that initiated a hiatus then I’d gladly wait as long as I had to.

I genuinely think that would improve the show’s writing drastically and for the better in the long run. Things have been such a mess this year and I really really don’t want to see things continue to decline.

[shinesurge]

I think it's a side effect of having a slightly bigger audience than before, but this year I've been getting a LOT of questions about offering digital editions of the KC books so I wanted to talk about it out loud for a bit.

There are a bunch of complicated reasons I've never offered the volumes as digital downloads, and I think they mostly boil down to concerns about the pretty embarrassing lack of significant internet presence Kidd Commander has accumulated over the 11 years it's been running. The audience I DO have is very enthusiastic, and let me be clear that I appreciate how unique and cool that is, especially in the era we're in where I really have no business running things the way I do lmao

The problem is, in refusing to do any of the predatory social media bullshit that tricks people into doing advertising for my comic while pretending it's a fandom, and by taking initiative to build fandom spaces for people to hang out in myself, I've created an extremely insular community where folks don't really feel any need to help it grow. "If you build it they'll come" is true, but the other half of that is people going "hey neat this thing builds itself!" and you end up with dozens of fandom posts, hours of discussion, and even fanwork locked away in inaccessible spaces while the pages on the site consistently get no comments or interaction and the public tags are empty.

WHAT does this have to do with digital editions lol

The idea was, a thing that helps set KC apart is the webcomic thing where you're not only checking a site regularly as a routine, but you're building some impression of the author as well. My little news posts are bundled with the pages, the site gives a sense of Environment in way static editions don't. In return for offering nearly a thousand pages of completely free content the reader has to Encounter Me at some point, and be made aware that this is an operation being run by a single person, and that its survival is entirely dependent on other people reading it and supporting it. Going to the site ALSO at least lets people know a comment section /exists/, and there COULD be a community to participate in. You don't get that with the books as much, but the books are almost exclusively going to folks who already read the comic, I don't think they're floating around out there to many people who didn't buy them directly from me after reading it online.

It is objectively easier for people to binge an archive they can carry around offline with them, I completely get it. But I've watched SO many new readers fall in love with this thing in real time as they leave comments behind them through the archive, and even just forming the habit of checking the site regularly really goes a long way towards forming enough of a connection with a reader for them to stick around for the long haul. If you just read it all isolated on your phone, it stops there; it's easy to forget it's an independent operation that desperately needs your support, /I/ have no idea whether you liked it or if people are even reading, and when you're finished you'll move on to something else because there's no visible fandom to engage with.

I don't WANT to think this is what will happen, but it's already been happening here for years even without proper channels. I sort of feel like this would just be facilitating my own demise lmao. All the comics who run the way I do were ALREADY popular back before the landscape shifted to fast-fashion sensibilities, so Girl Genius offering digital editions doesn't really harm them, you know? By the time forums died their community was already so stable and self-sufficient they could quit updating the main story for a whole year and not even feel it. Gunnerkrigg is signed on with fuckin Dark Horse now. People doing the things KC does got in early and stabilized before I even got started, fandom is a different world now and I'm already barely keeping this train running on my own as it is.

But on the other hand: accessibility!! HOW many times have I wanted to engage with something but they WONT LET ME PAY THEM FOR THE THING I WANT so I just leave!! The alternative here isn't "oh if i FORCE THEM to read it online they'll stick around" it's "if i can't read it how i want then i'm skipping it". That makes total sense, /I/ do that! What about people who want the extra content in the books but can't pay international fucking shipping!! It's also an Archival issue, which absolutely kills me, but that's a whole other post lmao. There are extremely good reasons to offer another option for reading my work, but I am so anxious this would just be putting a nail in this stupid coffin I've been building already.

I've been having this conversation a lot, mostly with Lee, but it came up again this morning in an email and regardless of my own feelings: this is a thing people want, a very reasonable thing, and if I fail to provide it that's just bad business. Do y'all here have any thoughts about all this? I would like to give the people what they want and y'all are The People.

Anyway buried way down here so far I'll make another post about it: I /am/ going to offer the specials as digital downloads, permanently in the shop. They're old books by now, I'm having issues keeping them in stock anyway, and they DON'T exist online anywhere, so this isn't technically any skin off my back outside of piracy issues, which. would be a stupid thing to fret about lmao

thanks for reading all this! I'm gonna go sort through pdfs for a while