Showing posts from 2020

Samantha and the Pieces of a Heart Chapter 5

  Samantha now has 4 out of the 7 pieces of a heart. Of course, as we learned in the previous chapter, not everything is cleanly resolved and not everyone gets their happy ending. In this chapter, Samantha meets a boy driven by hate and learns how some people become stronger in the face of adversity... and perhaps a little something about herself as well. Prepare yourself, there is only chapter left before the finale. Watch out for it this weekend --  I might show both chapters at once since they connected to each other.

Samantha and the Pieces of a Heart Chapter 4

  For the first time ever outside of Google Play, here is the 4th chapter of Samantha and the Pieces of a Heart.  In this pivotal 4th chapter, the formulaic approach is broken and you'll find out that Samantha can't really resolve everyone's problems with her charm and quick wits. After all, the world doesn't really work that way. Watch out for the next chapter this weekend. We're getting closer to the 7th chapter finale! Buy the VN on Google Play if you wish to support me:  Samantha and the Pieces of a Heart FULL - Apps on Google Play

Nagi Santa Illustration: Traditional To Digital

  Happy Hayanagi Day! Here's a quick illustration of Nagi for today. No blending used. Just some photoshop magic to make her blend in with the BG (done off-cam).

Samantha and the Pieces of a Heart Chapter 3 VN Playthrough

In the third chapter of the adventures of the little girl without a heart, we tackle more serious personal issues... Does Samantha's charm simply have the power to resolve even the most complex social conflicts with a few choice words? Perhaps, or perhaps you'd like to wait for the 4th chapter when the story will take a completely different turn. Watch out for chapter 4 on December 24! If you want to read the full story in text format for free: To support the author on Google Play (Android):

Samantha and the Pieces of a Heart Read Through On Youtube

By the way, I've been uploading video chapters of Samantha and the Pieces of a Heart on Youtube. Now up to chapter 2. Samantha and the Pieces of A Heart Chapter 1 - YouTube Samantha and the Pieces of A Heart Chapter 2 - YouTube This is a children's story meant to be read by children and adults alike. While the first three chapters may seem to follow a formulaic approach, not everything is as it seems. Please read and let me know your thoughts. Your heartfelt comments are really the writer's best reward.  I will be uploading a new episode every week. Support the app on Google Play:  Samantha and the Pieces of a Heart FULL - Apps on Google Play Official homepage on this site:  Jaded Perspectives: Samantha and the Pieces of a Heart: The Visual Novel -- Android Version (

Happy Birthday 2020, Nagi Sanzen'in (December 3)

Yup, time for some meaningless fictional character birthday post again. I'll keep this short... or at least I promise not to ramble on too much. Recently, me and good friend have been discussing (online) how I've (We've - plural) been infatuated with Gawr Gura from HololiveEn lately and yes, it's true. I'd now place Gura as my number three waifu just behind Miku.  Anyway, he said something along the lines of "just let it happen naturally" in the event that Gura eventually becomes my number one waifu. Of course I'm like... hold up there a minute, pardner! (and yes, I imagine this line in Gura's voice.) See, it's kinda different. Nagi was, is and will always be a huge part of my life. It's blind dedication, it's self-delusion, but it's also something that makes me happy and that harms no one at all -- not even myself, as much as some might like to believe otherwise. Also, yes -- I realize that in western cultures, what I'm saying

Scream - An Almost Tragic Story

“Teach men not to rape,” is an extremely controversial issue right now. If you ask me, I’d say it’s a futile cause. You cannot teach a criminal not to be a criminal – and before you judge me for making this statement, I will tell you right now that I am speaking from personal experience. Do not get me wrong however. I understand the good intent behind the statement. I get it. We should indoctrinate men early that rape culture is wrong – but, there is one glaring flaw that I find with this rhetoric. A balance must be struck. It is not “victim blaming” to tell a woman to learn a little bit of situational awareness and self-defense. A person who wants to rob, kill, or otherwise harm you cannot be taught not to rob, kill, nor harm you because this person is a deviant who does not mentally function the same way as a regular individual. The criminal mind seeks self-gain at the expense of the victim and no amount of “teaching” is going to change this. The criminal knows it’s wrong to rape. Th

Ms. Terror – A Tale Of A Wound That Never Heals

Gawr Gura fanart by me. Sad Shork Still a QT By Cynia Mirasol with assistance from lordcloudx Whether we like it or not, we all have our own particular weaknesses – parts of ourselves which we try to hide from others for fear that we may be negatively judged. This week, I am baring one such particular weakness – a different part of me that many of you are probably unaware of. While admittedly, I may pale by a lot in comparison to my husband when it comes to academic achievements, I have never been insecure about my own intellect – especially in a battle of wits. Indeed, while outwardly, I am always quick to point out how brilliant my two kids are and how they really take after their father, at the back of my mind, I’ve always secretly thought that: “It takes two to tango.” With that aside, if there is one subject that I really look upon with great disdain, it would be mathematics. I know, I know, some of you may be thinking: “but math is fun.” I’ll give you this much: while I may

Driven – A Tale Of Chasing Dreams

*Note: Name has been changed to protect the subject’s identity. It all started with a little girl who began to chase a dream. My name “*Candy,” is a bit of an irony. Oftentimes in life, fate had been quite bitter to me more times than it was sweet. You see, my family was many things but rich was never one of them. I was the middle child in a family of five – that is, “five eventually” when my youngest brother was born much later. As you might have already surmised, we were – to put it bluntly, poor – very poor. This is no mere exaggeration. To illustrate: One time, we were forced to eat nothing but rice and one big piece of botong-botong (a long cylindrical piece of candy) for lunch. Mother was slicing it into separate pieces for all of us, but just as she had cut it in half, the other piece fell off the table and through the floor. You read that right. It fell through the floor because our flooring consisted of thin-cut pieces of bamboo elevated off the soil by a wooden platform. With

Victim? – A Story of Injustice

by Cynia Mirasol with assistance from lordcloudx I am sorry to tell you this, but your assumptions about me are incorrect. Yes, it is true that I was often a victim of circumstances during my younger days, but allow me to tell you that in many cases, I was not a helpless damsel in distress. In fact, I have never once pictured myself as the miserable tragic heroine in my own life story – because, as you are about to find out, I wasn’t exactly a little angel and I was often the one doing the victimizing rather than the other way around. In the family, we were each known for our own unique personality quirks – every one of us at least, except for me, Cynia. I was simply the one with the most horrible personality. Our “Papa” (Grandfather) called me a “Katsila” (Spaniard.) This was actually meant as a derogatory term for someone who is headstrong and cruel. Well, I wouldn’t let this slide at all. Papa lived in a house not too far from ours. He had several fruit-bearing trees and vegetable

RABID – A Tale of Unrestrained Violence

By Cynia Mirasol with assistance from lordcloudx Growing up, I was not exactly brimming over with self-esteem. If anything, you could probably consider my outer façade of bravado as nothing more than a simple psychological defense mechanism. Certainly, I am not the most pragmatic of individuals – being an ENFP who is driven more by emotions and social links rather than cold, unfeeling logic. Still, I was never oblivious to the fact that I had very little to actually be confident about. After all, who was Cynia? – An absolute nobody who happened to be the 2 nd youngest child of a destitute family consisting of six children (at least the ones who survived infancy). I was smart – but nowhere near valedictorian level, and any of the skills that I had honed through the years (declamation, dance, oration) paled in comparison to my overachieving elder sister, Cynthia. The irony of my half-baked existence is viscerally obvious even in how my name was hewn from my sister’s.   I was Cynia

Fragments -- My Free Ebook of My Personal 90's Recollections.

 Here's an update on my free ebook consisting of my personal recollections from the 90's: Fragments. Now includes new stories my mother's personal recollections from her time as well. (60s-70s)   Download PDF

Daddy Pilis – A Tale of Childhood Trauma, Oppression, and Optimism by Cynia Mirasol with assistance from lordcloudx

If there is one thing in this world that is infinitely clear to my siblings and I, it would be the fact that our father was definitely far from perfect. We called him “Hudas” (Judas) after the much-hated and in recent times, seemingly misunderstood biblical figure. In fact, one of my sisters put it quite bluntly that: “Kon I rating sa pinakamaayo nga mga tatay, last gid ni si Daddy ya.” (If we were to rate who the best fathers are, Daddy would come dead last. Most of the time, our Daddy’s idea of parental care consisted of literally and begrudgingly throwing money at our mother and then scooting off somewhere else to find a drink or two – who am I kidding, he was an alcoholic who finished an entire case of beer in a single drinking session – and that’s when he doesn’t want to get drunk. Sometimes, I chuckle in hindsight thinking about the special snowflakes of today’s generation and imagining how they would (or wouldn’t) deal with this world of apparent “toxic masculinity.” Also, t