a mananangGAL
I remember watching this interview of Hajime Isayama where he said that, when he presented the story of Attack on Titan to its current publishers, he was at the lowest possible point of self-esteem in his life, about himself and about his work, so much so that he was on the brink of giving it all up. It marked me so much because… I was watching this interview precisely because I deeply admired this man’s artistic work. I could not fathom that he would have ever doubted it himself.
It reminded me that you can only trust the work. It really doesn’t matter what your opinion of yourself or your abilities as a creator is. It is entirely irrelevant, even. Worse: it gets in the way of creation. When you focus too much on it, you stop trying and doing. And if there is one thing that cannot be doubted, it is that nothing is achieved without trying and doing. Nothing bad and nothing good.
So really, as long as the desire to create burns your insides and keeps you awake at night and makes your fingers shiver from the need to grab a pen or a brush, there is only one option: keep making. Doubt won’t ever disappear. Creating shall remain this uneasy, vertiginous activity, keeping you on the brink of the abyss.
Follow your guts and have faith in the process. Trust that the work needs to be done, no matter the whims of self-confidence. At the end of the day, your creation may have sprung out of your mind and your knowledge, your experiences and your emotions, your time and your dedication, but it is not you. It may be better; it may be worse; but it is a thing of its own that needs to be done and that only you can do.
does it ever drive you crazy— just how fast the night changes?
PHILIPPINE GODS AND GODDESSES: Bathala
Bathala, also known as Abba, is said to be the creator of everything. He dwells in the sky which is called Kawalhatian together with the lesser gods and goddesses. He is kind, giving the people everything they need to the point of spoiling them. This was where the Filipino saying “Bahala na” (come what may) came from. It is also known that Bathala sends anito (ancestor spirits, nature spirits, and deities) to help mankind with their daily activities.
photo credits: ledsetgo & melisica
No thoughts, just sexy aswang
Van Gogh, Monet, Waugh, Degas; pastel touch.
Armin: Eren, do you have a favorite artist?
Eren: Yes, your parents.
Armin: Why? What did they made?
Eren: You.
Back in the pre-colonial period, Tagalogs already believed in the final judgement of men— that is, the punishing of the evil and the rewarding of the good. The souls of good men were said to be taken to Maca, a village where they enjoyed eternal peace and happiness; a paradise.
However, those who deserved punishment were brought to Kasanaan, the village of grief and affliction where they were tortured forever. The souls that ended up in Kasanaan were kept by the leader of the ancient hell, Sitan.
It is said that all the wicked went to that place, and there dwelt the demons, Sitan and his four agents, who embodied evil and punishment.
Due to the arrival of the Spanish in the 16th century, Roman Catholicism was forcefully introduced to the Tagalog. In Roman Catholicism, a good person is sent to Heaven while a bad person is sent to Hell to burn in scalding oil.
Source: In outline of Philippine Mythology by F. Landa Jocano; Juan de Plasencia’s in 1589 “Relation of the Worship of the Tagalogs, Their Gods, and Their Burials and Superstitions”
Atsumu had always been the one to make the first move, may it be through messages or asking Kyoomi out for dates. Kiyoomi got so accustomed to it that he panics when Atsumu doesn't message him for an entire day. He goes back to their messages and rereads them.
Everything's fine. Atsumu used emojis, sent him some memes and even some selfies. So, he evaluates his responses to make sure he didn't sound uninterested or check if he could've said something that might've offended Atsumu or put him in a bad mood. But in the end, he found nothing out of the usual.
"Stop overthinking it. He tells you things he doesn't like, so there's no need to panic," Kiyoomi whispers to himself, but he still finds himself pressing the call button.
Kiyoomi hears the ringing, and his heart immediately starts beating erratically.
What if he's busy? What if he finds it annoying? What if everything's fine and I look like I'm too clingy? What if he gets mad?
All these questions keep running in Kiyoomi's head, making it difficult to make the first move. He sighs as his thoughts get the better of him, but before he could even turn off the call, Atsumu's voice pulls him out of his head.
"Hey, Omi-kun! What's up?" Atsumu asks on the other side. Kiyoomi gulps and straightens his back as he tries to keep his composure.
"Nothing," Kiyoomi answers, there's silence on the other side of the line, and this makes Kiyoomi panic once again.
"Oh, then why'd you call?" Atsumu asks. His tone's normal, and yet Kiyoomi still feels like something's off.
"I just missed you," Kiyoomi whispers, it was so small that Atsumu almost didn't catch it, "I'm sorry for bothering you so late at night,"
"What? No, don't apologize! I like it, actually," Atsumu says, "it makes my heart really soft hearing you say you miss me,"
Kiyoomi can imagine Atsumu smiling on the other end of the line, and this made him feel silly for panicking over Atsumu not messaging him.
"So, what now?" Kiyoomi asks as he lays on his bed with a calmer heart and a smile on his face.
"I don't know, tell me about your day. I just slept the entire day, so I don't have much," Atsumu answers.
Kiyoomi smiles, "okay,"
Kiyoomi then proceeds to tell Atsumu about his day, and they ended up talking until past nine. Once Atsumu notices, he says, "Omi, we have to go to sleep. We still have Saturday training,"
"Oh," Kiyoomi says and turns to the clock, "I guess this is good night then,"
"Yeah," Atsumu says, "but before you hang up,"
"What is it?"
"I just wanted you to know that it made me really happy that you called," Atsumu says, making Kiyoomi grin wide, "Then I'll call you more often,"
Kiyoomi doesn't hear a response, but he does hear a muffled scream which makes him chuckle, "Okay, I'll call you tomorrow morning,"
"Okay, Omi-kun, good night. I love you," Atsumu says, making Kiyoomi's heart run wild.
"Good night, I love you too, Atsumu," Kiyoomi says and hangs up before turning on his side and sleeping with a smile on his face now that he knows that making the first move won't annoy Atsumu.
‘laser tag’
.
“Yoo Joonghyuk,” says Dokja, warily, “why did you bring me here?"
"Tactical retreat,” Joonghyuk replies. He’s doing that thing that’s in all the substanceless fluff romance novels, with his arm on the wall next to Dokja’s head and caging him in– not that Dokja reads those sorts of novels, of course, it’s obviously just osmosis– and his distressingly good-looking face is equally distressingly close to Dokja’s. This is not at all how Dokja had planned this day to go.
“We’re on opposite teams,” Dokja points out. Then they both pause while the outraged yell of probably-Kim-Namwoon echoes faintly from the other side of the field. “And I’m pretty sure that was your teammate. Whom you abandoned.”
“I have something more important to do.” Joonghyuk leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth before Dokja can formulate a response. “So? Planning to shoot me?”
The expression on Dokja’s face is probably not very attractive right now, stunned as he is. “I guess not,” he says, faintly.
Joonghyuk kisses him on the lips this time, tilting his head for an angle that lets him slide his tongue deep into Dokja’s mouth. Dokja can’t do much else other than wrap his hands around Joonghyuk’s unnecessarily thick biceps and kiss back, messy and eager.
When Joonghyuk finally leans back, they’re both flushed, hips pressed against each other still. “Are we still playing?” Dokja asks. Joonghyuk runs a hand down his side and he shivers.
“We are,” Joonghyuk informs him, and unceremoniously shoots him right in the chest.
Watching Yoo Joonghyuk saunter arrogantly away as his vest lights up and the stun sound plays in his ears, Dokja discovers, to his lasting shame, that he’s entirely capable of getting turned on by sheer bloody annoyance.
“ Eremin is canon,“ I say into the mic.
The crowd boos. I begin to walk off in shame, when a voice speaks and commands silence from the room.
"He’s right,” they say. I look for the owner of the voice. There in the 5th row, Hajime Isayama himself