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Viral Yuri Manga 'The Guy She Was Interested In Wasn't a Guy at All' Released in English

On Tuesday, Yen Press released the first volume of Sumiko Arai's popular Yuri manga The Guy She Was Interested In Wasn't a Guy at All (Ki ni Natteru Hito ga Otoko Janakatta) digitally and in paperback.

The manga, which started its weekly run on X (formerly Twitter) in 2022, follows gyaru Aya Oosawa, who develops a crush on the alt clerk at the CD shop she frequents, unaware that it is her female classmate, Aya Oosawa. Yen Press further describes the series:

Fashionable and upbeat high schooler Aya falls head over heels for an employee at a local CD shop. He’s got an air of mystery about him, always dressed well, and has impeccable taste in music. Little does she know―this supposedly male employee is actually her female classmate Mitsuki! Mitsuki generally keeps to herself, but since her seat is right next to Aya’s, she can't help but be extremely aware of the other’s crush. Revealing the truth is out of the question―but perhaps getting closer to Aya wouldn’t be so bad...

The series became incredibly popular after its release online, with fans internationally drawn in by the series' distinctive artwork, character designs, and green-color pallet. According to the English publisher, the manga was one of the most demanded series in the recent past and is set to become one of Yen Press's biggest releases of the year.

In April 2023, Kadokawa published the first volume of The Guy She Was Interested In in Japanese. The manga began serialization on Pixiv Comic the same month. The series also won Kadokawa's 2023 Next Manga Award in the web manga category. The second collected volume was released in Japanese in April and is scheduled for English release on February 18, 2025.

The series is translated into English by Ajani Oloye.

You can check out Volume One of The Guy She Was Interested In Wasn't a Guy at All in English digitally and in paperback: https://amzn.to/3YxI0kW

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“Hamas shouldn’t have attacked”

🙃

The Israeli genocide of Palestinians has been ongoing for 70 years.

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"No one remembered my birthday-" Well, but did YOU tell anyone it was coming up and you wanted to celebrate it with them?

"I wish someone would see through it when I tell people I'm fine-" Well, but have YOU considered not lying when people ask you how you're doing?

"I am so resentful of my friend because they keep doing this thing that really bothers me-" Well, but have YOU directly communicated that the thing is bothering you?

"I am burning out because my friend keeps expecting me to help them with serious struggles-" Well, but have YOU tried to establish the boundaries you need to feel okay?

"No one ever asks me about this thing I really care about-" Well, but have YOU brought it up yourself?

"I miss my friend but they haven't texted me-" Well, but have YOU been reaching out to them?

Sometimes people are mean, uncaring assholes, in which case you get to be mad. But sometimes you just need to communicate better. Try communication before you assume someone doesn't care!

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https://twitter.com/jijijibli/status/1391829463630024704?s=19

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“When I travelled to Palestine in the summer of 2011, with a delegation of women of colour and indigenous feminists and activists, it was actually the first trip for all of us, but all of us had been involved for many years with Palestine solidarity work, we were all totally shocked by the egregious and visible nature of the oppression. The israeli military made no attempt to conceal or mitigate the violence they were inflicting on Palestinian people, gun-toting military men and women were everywhere. I was in South Africa before the downfall of apartheid, and I also had travelled to Northern Ireland at one of the most difficult periods, neither place was as bad as I witnessed in Occupied Palestine.”

— Angela Davis (via theyoungradical)

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Aker Ajak by Alena Saz for Schon Magazine September 2023

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With every "sheesh" and "bussin" I hear another piece of my soul is chipped off

Every time someone picks up a word or phrase from African-American vernacular and uses it over and over in the wrong contexts because it's "funny", we take a step back into the age of minstrel shows.

I'm tired of black culture being a meme. I'm tired of black features being a joke. I'm tired of ghetto being tossed around by middle class white people like it's a funny little competition, while real ghettos (-and the people who live in them) are trampled as the dirt beneath their feet.

(Look it up yourself lol)

((i don't feel like educating y'all!))

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happy 10th anniversary steven universe. without you i wouldn't be the person i am today. without you i wouldn't have learned to look after myself better. without you i wouldn't have met the coolest people i know. without you... without you i don't know where i'd be. you're still the most important and most meaningful piece of media i've ever come across, and nothing has come even close to what you've done since you've been gone.

miss ya to death, bud. hope you're doing well 🌺💎✌️

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names not numbers

The Palestinian Ministry of Health released a report on Thursday, including the names of more than seven thousand Palestinians who were martyred in the Israeli bombing of the Gaza Strip.

Red color highlights 0-4 years old age group

Green color highlights age group 5-17

White color highlights the age group between 18 and 59 years old

Gray color highlights the age group over 60

These are not just names, but people killed in the midst of a brutal war. Remember their names.

(Designed by @georgedeebstudios on insta)

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I decided to finally write about some of the struggles I face as an independent artist. Tumblr has always been an incredible space for me to introduce my music to new listeners. So withy get if you come across this check out the links and enjoy the words ❤️

IG: justymusic

TikTok: justjustymusic

An open love letter to music.

Why is music feeling like watching every kid in the school yard get picked up before me.

My mind flashes back to that feeling seven year old me embraced knowing I would sit on the cold after school lunch tables until the final call. A late evening met with an early morning every day.

But music was supposed to be safe. When I found room to be above mediocre I clung to it for dear life. Remembering the words of the first teacher who saw me, truly saw me, and how she believed in my own lyricism even at its earliest stage.

I was so hungry when I was young. Staten Island could never offer the hug a queer black kid needed, but music could.

Home didn’t understand the sadness underneath budding teenage frustration, but music could.

I met music on a first date with no expectations but in queer fashion, maybe I fell too fast.

She took up my days. Multifaceted and engaging.

She became home and a safe space. She brought out the best in me. Introducing me to all of her friends and favorite places, putting me in rooms with people I’d be invisible to until I opened my mouth, hit the mic.

Maybe in my bliss I never stopped to consider this to be unrequited love.

We never needed all of affirmations when we first fell and yet now I find myself watching the single digit counts of comments or lack thereof.

I wonder if anyone is listening as I go to share another piece of myself to no avail.

Maybe I was sharper when I met her, yet now I watch as seemingly everyone around me makes it to those places I told her I’d take her- and even worse, I ration with if I never will.

There’s guilt as I see 29 stretching out to me, how lucky am I to meet another year of life- luck not offered to my cousin, yet how terrifying to know the projection the industry throws at me.

Even as I dodge, I become scorned thinking of how easy it seems for everyone else. The virality and colossal rise. Their talent not mine, their shine not mine, their wins not mine.

When will it be my time?

Will it ever be my time?

My days are spent helping future leaders secure their future, and yet I write and erase Plan B on what used to be my “anything is possible” journal.

Still, there is that hopeless romantic in me.

Wondering if maybe it wasn’t the right time, but the time may simply be on the way.

I know time waits for no one, but as I keep throwing my heart at the wall, I wonder where I will stick.

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by @mexicanjihad on Instagram http://ift.tt/1Tt0KsS

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