#this is my first fully rendered piece in a while

[artbysconnor]

BdoubleO100 x Hermes

14/18 of LifeStyle: A Life Series Fashion Zine

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Ah, Bdubs... Bdubs was arguably the character that gave me the hardest time over the entirety of this art project, and not because of the styling like you would think, but the actual selecting of his brand! This final look and illustration you see here is actually not even the first fully styled, fully rendered, fully finished piece I did for him. When I finished his original initial illustration, I took a step back to look at it and immediately felt all sorts of wrong - the illustration was one of my best, but the style and brand were just unequivocally the wrong choice. And so, after finishing everyone else, I went back and did him all over again to give him a proper chance. And while I don't think it's as strong as the other piece, it definitely feels more 'right', at least to me. After all, who am I to deny a horse boy his Hermes?

[rawpastamoth]

So in the hit game Don’t Stave Together someone made a mod for Homestar Runner and Strong Bad and that’s awesome

[ramdotexe]

live with me

[jeanivere]

been thinking about them lately

[ghost-t-cryptids]

Im having emotions about him again....

[mooseonahunt]

I drew fanart of a TikTok mutual who cosplayed one of my all time fave video game characters but now I don’t know what to do with it 🧍🏻

[flyaflush]

zombie girl i made a few months agoooo im still not sure if i wanna keep her.........

[lunarphoria]

☽☾ The Huntress ☽☾

This is a devotional piece I drew for my beloved goddess Lady Artemis ! I'm really happy with the outcome even though I wish I could've done more with the background :/ but also this is the first fully colored piece I've done in a while and I'm glad I could do a more complicated one for my lady ! I hope she likes it , and you do too I hope <3

ALSO please cut me some slack on the rendering of the dog , I never draw animals and fully color them even less so , but I tried my best .

The little "print" on her clothing is supposed to be cypress branches & the white spots on her shoulders & cheeks are referencing the white spots of fawns ! The fur around her shoulders is from a bear and the bandages are stained with Ichor , the golden blood of the gods ( hunting isn't an easy job after all )

This piece was heavily inspired by one of my favorite paintings called " Diana the Huntress " by Gaston Casimir Saint-Pierre which I used as a reference :3

( the divider was made by me ♡ )

[maddragon15]

Obscenely late hermitaday day #23 & 25! - Impulse & Tango

Was this meant to be a simple cel shaded drawing on the 30th? Yeah, yeah it was lmao but somehow the power of fire excels at overtaking the rendering capabilities.

But since it's late I'll use this as excuse to ramble below about well, the headcanons and the process down yonder. Also there's variations.

(Also just realized that the compression is high with this one, please click on it to see the details pretty pleasee)

So! Let's talk about that haircut shall we? First off Tango's haircut is basically just me slapping my very neglected oc's haircut onto him lol. There's no function usage or any other lore about it, literally just I wanted to use that haircut more. But Miners and Crafters that's not all! The intensity of the flame actually has meaning believe it or not.

Since Tango in the headcanons is already a nether born blaze hybrid the redstone kinda didn't have an effect on him. This is because blazes produce glowstone which is a power source onto itself. He gets minor effects instead which is a mild (there's literally no other word) high, a intensified hair flame and a brighter eye night shine. Negative effects include mild joint & jaw pain, and a small localized headache behind the left eye.

I like to imagine that other blaze hybrids' hair flame aren't normally that intense, not white-hot heat but rather more red n orange hot similar to the flats. Mainly due to the fact that glowstone is not as powerful as redstone and it's also dependent on how strong a blaze is. Now imagine with me that blazes determine how strong each other are via the color they're emitting. Now remember the blaze boss Minecraft had a vote on to add or not to add? What if Tango is constantly mistaken as a high ranking blaze because of how intense his fire is and he doesn't get attacked a whole lot except for the few that want to challenge him. Meanwhile Tango is just highly infused with redstone like all the other redstoners and he doesn't know what's happening half time as seen by his terrified scream-laughs /hj

He's also semi modified with redstone for the pure purpose of comms just like the other redstoners minus mumbo. I also would've leaned into the steampunk aspect of this season but I figured I'd do a character sheet like etho for all of the redstoners and finalize the aspects on those.

Onto Impulse!

I like to imagine that Impulse was a regular human and over the course of redstone exposure he gained pointed ears and horns. For what reasons? I have no idea but redstone works in mysterious ways and mutates on whatever happens to be in their system. You may see that he has purple lines across his face but then red pupils, why is that? Well since he's cyperpunk themed this season he modified his redstone implants to be rgb. He can change everything else except his pupils because those are deeply affected by redstone and would require surgery to remove the build up of redstone. Will any of the redstoners ever actually get rid of it? No but you can beg all day.

You also might be wondering what's happening in their ears? Well those are the advanced comms that are actually used across all hermits except the ones who've opted out for glowstone variants. They kinda work like bluetooth except more hermit-magic way. I haven't had time to fully think of how it'd work down to the circuitry (that's my usual process for headcanons before I ship them out) but I'll post about it when I think of the full layout. Other design aspects on impulse are derived from his skin and the poster design by applestruda!

Process wise for this piece was kinda a rollercoaster heh. I had started this piece a while ago (can't remember the day on the dot) and then I got insanely busy during the last week of hermitaday. I had done sketch, refined sketch and flats in two days. Then events proceeded forth and we arrive on the 4th which I tried for an entire day to figure out how to render this piece. I then gave up and tried again the day after and pulled up references this round on Pinterest. Tango was surprisingly easy to paint with ref and went rather fast. I will admit the entire time I was rendering him I did say every minute or so "I love you man" because he was turning out so good. Halfway through I then realized I still had to render Impulse. That's when I pretty much ended that night because it was already 5 am working on Tango and demotivation was setting in fast. The next day I was able to continue with hesitancy on Impulse but I managed to keep on keeping on and in the early hours of today I finished up the piece. Where I'm now writing about it close to 2 pm in a restaurant. Man though it was kinda hard to make Impulse and Tango look like cohesive and as if they were painted together.

Enjoy!

(Side note I applied for inprint and if I am to be accepted this will be available along side the three different eefs I've drawn and doc.)

[sleepytoycollection]

One Way to Repair a Broken Doll Arm

Today I'll be walking you through how I repaired this Ever After High Lizzie Hearts doll's broken arm. While I wouldn't call this a fool-proof method, and I'm not sure that this repair would hold up to being played with, if you've got a beloved doll you want to repair, this should be just fine for a doll that's mostly going to be displayed.

The best part is, this will retain the articulation of the arm and/or knee (this method will technically also work for knee joints, though knees are harder than arms to work with). So let's jump in.

Tools required: Craft Knife, Jewelry pliers, Wire (gauge depends on size of joint), Super Glue, Hot Glue, Patience.

Let's start with our patient.

I thrifted this Lizzie doll a few days ago, along with a Venus McFlytrap, as shown in the above image. As soon as I saw the taped up arm, I knew the joint was broken, but hey, she was like 80c USD. I can apply some elbow grease for that cheap. Plus it gives me an excuse to finally make this tutorial.

They went a little overkill with that much tape, but whatever works?

I cut the tape off carefully with a craft knife. I didn't take a pic of that, but I think you can image what a broken doll arm looks like. Unless you have aphantasia I guess, but that's getting off topic.

First thing I did was use the craft knife to slice along the seam lines, then pried the upper arm open (slowly. seriously go slow.) with a pair of jewelry pliers. It will leave marks on the plastic, but I can buff those out later.

Why am I doing this if the arm's already broken? I want to remove what's left of the peg that's in there. You could also drill it out if you have a dremel, but I wanted to avoid this tutorial needing power tools.

So here's the arm, pried open, with the peg removed.

To close it back up, I used a tiny bit of acetone to melt the plastic at the seams, then held it together until it hardened enough to stay in place. Leave it for a few hours to make sure it's all fully cured, then you can sand the area smooth.

And here's the arm with the broken peg.

So what now? We need to remove the peg piece that's attached to the elbow. I couldn't get a photo of that since it's a delicate process and I only have 2 hands, but here's an artist rendering that would give you the idea.

Take a craft knife, and SLOWLY. CAREFULLY. cut into the ring that surrounds the elbow joint. YOU DO NOT WANT TO GO TOO DEEP, TOO QUICKLY. YOU DO NOT WANT TO ACCIDENTALLY CUT THROUGH THE ELBOW POST. Just go nice and slow. Just chip a little out at a time until you get to the center.

Use pliers as well to pull out the rest of the bits, though you might have to cut a good bit out before you can pull the rest out.

As for my doll, the operation went successfully.

This is what the elbow looks like with the joint peg removed.

Now we've gotten past the hard part, we'll cut off a few inches of wire and string that though the elbow joint. Once through, we'll twist it until it's reasonably tight to the joint. If that makes sense.

It should look like this. Give it a test fit and cut the wire shorter as needed so there's no gap in the joint.

My test fit. Yep, I recycled this for the top photo as well. The blue is just painter's tape.

If you find you can't get it tight enough, and it feels too loose, I'd add a drop a super glue in there. Just keep moving the joint as the glue dries, and it'll add some friction so your arm will hold a pose.

Speaking of glue, I also add a dab of hot glue to the top of our new peg. The coating will add thickness that will help it stay in the upper arm. Tape works too, but hot glue holds up better.

Here's our newly repaired arm back on the doll. Aside from a slight glimmer of silver, the repair is not very obvious I think.

Lizzie can now enjoy having two functional arms again. Whoo-hoo.

While not 100% a beginner repair, it's not particularly difficult either. Just takes some patience and a reasonably steady hand.

Before I go though, some disclaimers/notes: Some wires can rust overtime, so keep an eye on your doll to make sure the wire isn't degrading and discoloring them.

Also, if you do a repair like this, then sell the doll, do let the buyer know. I feel like I shouldn't have to say that, but don't be one of those sellers okay?

This same method can be used for knees, but thighs tend to be made of a harder plastic, and it can be more difficult to pry them open to take the old, broken peg out with out major damage to the upper leg.

Good luck with your repairs! Love y'all. c:

[k-hotchoisan]

Congrats on 500! I’m requesting number 5 😁🫶🏻

5. Get spanked by San or Dom Hongjoong?

wE’RE ALMOST TO THE END MY ANGEL and obviously how could I NOT write spanking if it’s not Choi San and his love for asses 🍑

ENJOY 🩷🌶️

Bad kitties need to be punished and San knows just the way to do it

Warnings: smut, spanking kink, suggestive, cat hybrid!Reader, degradation & punishment, impact play

Tag list: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies

San has kept cats. He has a pet cat back home. But when finds out your actual form, he’s rendered speechless—when he wakes up one day , feeling something soft curl around his leg and he spots a pair of fluffy cat ears twitch under the covers, San pulls back the sheets frantically and he stares at you in your hybrid feline form. Your eyes slowly open as you rub your eyes, your slits turning circular when you spot the shocked male before you.

He likes the way you always curl around him, pawing at his lap, and some times just lying your head there while he does his work. Despite the fact that you’re part human, sometimes you just grow mischievous, enjoying poking fun at your human partner, even teasing him by grinding against his crotch when you’re both comfortably cuddling, before you leave him completely high and dry. San tolerates it at first, but it’s starting to drive him insane at the way you’re constantly teasing him like that, especially when you look at him with those fuckin feline eyes.

The final straw was when you had you head nuzzled on San’s lap as usual, with San stroking your hair, and sometimes he massages your ears, and you let out soft purrs, pressing your head into his bare thighs. You stick your tongue out, giving kitten licks, and you feel San squirm slightly in his seat as you travel dangerously close to his crotch.

“Kitty”, he calls endearingly, despite the warning behind the soft tone. You ignore him, giving his thighs a couple more licks as San shifts beneath you, and you don’t miss the way you see his cock pressing against the fabric of his pants. You wonder how much you should push him.

It turns out, not much. That’s mostly because when you bare your small fangs and bite down onto his inner thigh, he jolts with a low groan, and the hand on your ears grip your hair instead, as he tugs your head up to face him.

“I think I’ve been patient enough, kitty”, he mutters, pitch low enough to send electricity down your spine from the anticipation. You only stare back with a small smile.

“Have you?” You ask, your tail trailing across his jaw. San stares down at you, and you see something flash across his eyes, something that makes you want to bolt.

But for once, he’s faster, his muscled arm curled around your waist, holding you down and essentially trapping you. You claw at his arm, almost flailing and his free arm grabs both your wrist, pinning them before you. You severely underestimate his strength, because he pulls you onto his lap as if you’re a rag doll.

You mewl, your tail flailing, as you feel your shorts being tugged off you, only your bare ass out with your pretty panties which is slowly starting to soak.

“Bad kittens need to be punished”, San hums, his palm grazing over your soft and supple flesh. Your tail instinctively coils around his arm.

San has always prided himself as an ass man, and deep inside, he’s always wanted a piece of yours, but you were always teasing him, and he finally snapped. Among all of the times he’s been teased by you—the lap grinding, your kitten licks, the worst was by far whenever he sees you stretch. You always had your back arched, your tail fully erected, and your ass fully out, especially right when he walks into the room. He knows you do it on purpose, because when you stare at him, you accompany your alluring stare with a smirk.

But now, he has you trapped in his arms, right where he wants you.

He doesn’t give you a warning before his hand lands on your ass, the sound of the slap louder than your squeal. Your eyes are blown wide open this time, not from the sting, but from the shock.

And for some fuck ass reason, it’s starting to make you wet.

“How many times did you do that? Teasing, licking, biting. What else is there?” You hear San’s voice above you, feigning being lost in thought.

When he doesn’t get an answer, the sound of your ass being slapped echoes in your shared apartment, and you hiss, jolting forward as San shifts you back into position.

“Kitten, tell me, what else did you do?”

You barely form the thoughts to even answer him. But you try, “grinding?”

Another slap. Your mind is starting to melt as the sting begins to make you leak more.

“You’re partially right. But it’s the worst when you stretch. Bad kitty, having your ass up in the air whenever I walk in. You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?”

Fuck. You really did underestimate him. You feel his hard cock pressed against your hip. The tip of his shorts is starting to get wet.

You jolt when his palm meets your skin, this time a moan leaving your lips as you shudder. San cocks an eyebrow. His eyes cast down at the growing dark patch on your panties and scoffs.

“Just how dirty is my kitty? Getting off being punished like this?” He lands another one, but lingers to grab a fistful of your ass, groaning at how your ass spills between this fingers. San cannot keep his eyes off at the way it jiggles whenever he lands his palm on it, and it’s driving him up the wall.

He rubs your ass gently, admiring at how the pink tint is gradually flooding your cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry”, you manage to choke out, fighting against the pleasure pulsing in your gradually wet cunt.

San doesn’t answer you, but he yanks your panties off, tossing it somewhere on the couch, you don’t know. You gasp at the cold breeze tickling your bare cunt now. He soaks two fingers in his mouth, and soon you jolt from the feeling of two digits rubbing against your clit.

“S-Sannie”, you mewl, struggling against his grip. He doesn’t relent, or rather, his grip only tightens. “P-please!”

“Count your spankings. One for every way you’ve teased me. We’ll start over from one if you don’t do it right. Is that clear, kitten?”

You whine. Another smack.

“Y-yes”, you spit, this time the sensitivity at whole another notch now that your bare cunt is exposed.

“Good kitty.”

San raises his hand.

Smack.

“One”, you begin, biting the inner of your cheek.

Smack.

“Two…” you trail, once you’re able to relax your hips.

Smack.

For some reason, the third smack had your eyes rolled back. You feel more slick leak, now your inner thighs are so dirty with your juices. It’s beginning to stain San’s lap, but he doesn’t seem to heed attention to it.

“Kitty”, San coos, and another smack echoes through the apartment. “We’re starting over.”

You’re beginning to sob, from how sensitive your ass is getting from all the spanking, and the more he does it, the more you feel your mind about break from good it feels. Your ears are pointed forward.

Smack.

“One.”

Smack.

“T-two.”

Smack.

“Three”, you whimper, trying to lick the drool that pooled at the corner of your lips.

Smack.

“F-four”, You shift uncomfortably, wanting some sort of friction on your clit. It’s getting too much.

Smack.

“F-five”, you sob, your thighs contracting as more slick oozes out of your neglected pussy. You are so unbelievably drenched that your mind has completely gone hazy, and you don’t register the way San is stroking your ass to relive some of the numbness of the sting.

San releases your wrists, and has you sit on his lap while presses gentle kisses on your temple, showering you with praises.

“That’s my good kitty. You took them so well. Did I hurt you too much?” He asks, combing your hair from your face before he wipes the tear stain from your cheeks. Your ears twitch.

You shake your head. If he did, you’d probably stop him, and he would have definitely stopped. A soft smile spreads across your partner’s lips as he cups your cheeks, and you feel all ounces of rationality slip out of your mind when his lips are on yours, and your tail coils around his arm by instinct, your ears completely relaxing in his touch.

You push him back when your lips part from his, and you’re sitting directly on his stiff erection. His shorts are so stained from the mixture of his precum and your dirty juices.

“Hit me more when you’re fucking me stupid, please”, you mutter as you grind softy against his hips, San’s groans filling your sensitive ears.

His fingers press against your hips and his tongue peeks at the corner of his lips.

“Naughty kitty.”

[potatogratins]

— first winter, then spring

꒰ summary ꒱ against the cold winter air, yuki ishikawa accidentally pulls a woman with him while running away from his fans. after an awkward interaction, they learn that they live in the same apartment complex. an unexpected relationship forms from hallway glances and cinema sessions.

꒰ genre ꒱ fluff ꒰ pairing ꒱ | ishikawa yuki/nameless female-identifying oc ꒰ w.c. ꒱ 7,924 ꒰ published ꒱ august 16, 2024

Conversations have always passed by me more than I probably realized. My eyes averted from the eyes of others, running away into the endless landscapes of vanilla-colored, semi-gloss-painted walls. There was something about the eyes that felt more vulgar than the parts we normally hid because, in retrospect, they are the most truthful parts of our body, more than our lips and hands. So when an outrageously tall and obviously strong Japanese man was looking straight at me in the eyes, there was something in me that knew that he knew who I was, even if I had nothing worth confessing about.

“I wanted to… thank you,” he said carefully.

Everything about this man was so meticulous.

“It’s no problem. You look like you needed helping,” I replied quickly.

He was, however, not so meticulous with his tracks.

 Just about twenty minutes ago, I began one of the most gut-wrenching runs in my life. This man, running from a small alleyway, tried to dash away from a swarm of what I would assume to be his loyal admirers. I happened to be in his way; instead of running right past me, he pulled me by the arm. It seemed that his running had preceded his thinking—it took him a minute or so to realize that he was dragging a woman along with him. The dry, cold winter air felt like a slap to the face every second I had to run with this man because now I had to help him–the both of us–get away from the crowd. 

Twenty minutes later, we’re in a hidden restaurant. There were no more screaming fans. All that there was were empty dining sets, niche Italian memorabilia, and bored employees. A confused set of customers would not stop them from moving on with their dull lives. The only thing missing was the plates of pasta, which this man insisted on paying on his behalf, that I wished would arrive faster to break any possible point of contact.

No, I don’t dislike him. In fact, he is a fascinating person—as all human beings are. But I would rather know about them from afar and not when they are trying to lock their eyes with yours every second you have to be with them. I’m more nervous about the idea of first meetings: the utter and complete awkwardness that renders a first meeting to stay a first meeting. I’m scared of saying anything that might make him run away—therefore, making me pay for the pasta.

An employee walked towards our table and as she was about to place the dishes on the table, my eyes looked at the food to his eyes.

Soft, but strong. Determined, but capable of surrendering. Cheerful behind such nonchalance. Flames that have never been extinguished. Nevermind the color of his eyes. At that moment, I knew who he was.

“We should eat,” he told me. I smiled. Yes, we should.

The near-ivory-colored pieces of pasta were fully consumed. There was happiness in my stomach. But I couldn’t uphold the proverb of “beggars can’t be choosers” because I was begging myself to stop eating these stupid cherry tomatoes. For me, tomatoes always tasted good processed, but disgusting in their raw form. It always perplexed me, but I guess that’s the magic of cooking.

“You don’t like the tomatoes?” he asked me.

“No, I don’t. I’m sorry,” I smiled bashfully.

He laughed, “Don’t be. I used to not like it a lot.”

“At least we have something in common.”

A few laughs. Then there was that excruciating silence. This began to feel more like a first date. We both took another set of deep breaths. We would be a fascinating pair to a set of psychologists.

“Why were they chasing after you?” I asked him. He tilted his head.

“Your fans, why were they?” I clarified.

He waved his hands and shook his head. “I… I don’t know.”

“You must be very popular for a reason.”

“I still don’t know why I’m very popular.”

“Well, you are quite handsome.”

He looked up at me quickly. Then he laughed loudly. I felt my cheeks grow as red as those cherry tomatoes.

“I’m just saying that you’re attractive. Nothing more, nothing less,” I explained as I put my hands up. He should know I’m not attracted to him, right? Fuck, he should know.

“I mean I play volleyball. I don’t think my uh… face… you know…”

It was clear to me that he underestimated the power of aestheticism. He didn’t realize how beautiful he was. Many men I have both understood and not simultaneously, but I know that not understanding how attractive you are was a good trait. Was it a case of humility? No, it was a matter of naivety for this man.

“I think it’s best to not know why you’re popular.”

“Why?” He raised his eyebrow.

“It makes you a better character. Just–don’t ask.”

He nodded slowly as he downed another piece of pasta. I turned away from him and checked the time: 9:37 PM. I felt my heart drop, then beat faster. My hands began to sweat, and my eyes and mouth widened, taking in the Italian restaurant dust.

He must have checked the time too because he had a more violent reaction to the time. He sighed, before looking at me and offered to take me home. I assumed he had a car in the parking lot waiting for him. Do you know what else is waiting for him?

“You don’t think your fans will be waiting by the parking lot?” I sighed, “It’s alright. I can book a taxi.”

I showed him my phone and pointed to the apartment complex on the map. He nodded slowly.

“Ahh, well I live there too,” he told me.

I felt my muscles pull my eyebrows. It was damn near impossible that we lived in the same place. That building wasn’t even tall. How could I not have bumped into him? That’s impossible. I’ve gone in and out of that complex many times for a variety of reasons. I should have all my hours covered: I left at two in the morning once to prepare for a road trip. Another at six in the morning to get ready to be a corporate slave. Seven in the morning when I was still taking up classes. All the hours leading up to twelve when I would oversleep and leave despite missing the acceptable hours to be late. Afternoon to return to my house. Night to buy food and do other shenanigans. How could I have possibly missed this man?

“Really? How come we’ve never bumped into each other?” I asked him.

“I moved a few months ago.”

There were then two of the greatest mysteries that arose: how have I never met this man and why did it take a Hollywood-like meet cute for us to meet? I would not try to attempt to solve them. I’ll leave it to the experts to tackle these critical questions.

The waitress walked up to us and told them that they were closing. It was right that we had to leave. Imagine having the most perfect day with no customers, then a pair arrives at the very last minute you could have chosen to close the restaurant. I would have comforted her and told her that I was just as ready to go home as she was.

We had to walk out of the tiny street and into a bigger road in order to find the taxi driver that the man had booked through his phone. For a few minutes, we stood there like idiots, but I was taking in the serenity of this silence. This was the quietest moment of my day.

When the taxi arrived, we sat in silence, sitting, again, like idiots. I turned my head to the window, watching the stores close as people walked by. What I always enjoyed about quiet rides was that you were able to observe people from afar and imagine the scenario they were going through before moving to the person behind them. You could think of the lives they were living until you were forced to push the thought away because you knew you would never see them again. We left the thought as it was.

I understood that it would not be the case with this man.

Though the trip was short, I began to feel groggy. We got into the tiny elevator, which could barely handle his height. I was curious to see the floor number he would press, but the thought was so shameful to me that I looked at the floor counter instead, seeing it go higher. When the elevator reached my floor, I turned to him, nodded, and left the elevator… a farewell that was guaranteed to be useless because he followed right behind me.

The man and I walked in the same direction for a few seconds before I turned to my door. I felt him tap my right shoulder.

“I cannot believe we never met,” he exclaimed.

“Our first meeting was certainly unique. Makes for a start of a good friendship, don’t you think?”

He smiled and held his hand out.

“Before I forget, my name is Yuki, by the way.”

The night proved to me that we were just both little idiots making their way into the world for the both of us could only nod and smile at each other. I shook his hand and told him my name.

“I hope you have a good sleep,” he said, and before I could say anything, he walked away. The window to chase after him began to close. When he got to his door, I looked away and went inside the apartment.

The following week, I began to look out the hallways to see if Yuki had come around. I was curious to know what happened to him since that night. What happened to his fans? Did he eventually get his car back? Did his teammates bring his stuff home for him on that day? However, I began to accept that this was just one of those moments where you meet someone once and never see them again.

“Hoy! Over here!”

My aunt called me from the other side of where I was trying to look for Yuki. She popped up with a son of one of our family friends, Charles, a mischievous tot at the age of five. He ran towards my legs. I picked him up and carried him while walking all the way to her.

“Charles wanted to pass by the playground, but I figured we could stop by to see how you were doing first.”

“Oh. Am I part of the play date?” I asked her. 

“You wanna come with us? I don’t mind if you do. Charles has been asking you for the past week, you know.”

“Looks like I’ll have to make up for the time lost then,” I looked at Charles and rubbed his nose. The three of us went to the elevator, and although elevator trips are short, there’s something about these that felt so excruciating. I thought to myself, “What if Yuki’s on the other side of the door? What should be my first greeting?” No, no, I’m not in love with him. People mistake general loneliness for romantic desperation. It’s just exciting to know someone who lives on the same floor as you. 

The elevator doors opened, and there was not even a human waiting on the other side.

How disappointing.

We walked our way to the playground, which was a lengthy walk for a tiny boy but much lengthier for the one carrying him. My aunt and I talked on the way, and before we even stepped foot on the edge of the playground, Charles signaled me to let him down. He ran straight to the swings. We looked at each other and sighed before sitting by one of the benches. We continued the conversation.

So, it was inevitable that I talked about Yuki.

“You don’t think he’s in love with you?”

“We’re just friends. We’re just acquaintances, neighbors who happen to be friendly with each other.”

“The way that you’re describing him just makes it sound like he’s in love with you…” she tapped her index finger on her chin before she said, “Or could it be possible that you described him that way because you’re the one who’s in love with him?”

The nerve!

“I’ve only talked to him for like an hour. I don’t know anything else about him, alright? He’s just… he seemed interesting to me,” and I hoped that explanation was enough for her.

“Alright, alright. I understand. It’s just different when it’s you.”

“Me? How?”

“Frankly, I've never seen you so invested in anyone”

I shook my head. She simply laughed, as she told me: 

“I’m just excited to see some developments in your life. You wanted some action after all, right?”

Most of the action in my life came in the form of a projector screen of a cinema. Films illustrated my biggest fears and desires, as well as situations we would never dream of going through. It’s one of the greatest man-made creations, and I am grateful for living in a time like this.

I watched a rerun of When Harry Met Sally, thankfully in its original dub but with Italian subtitles. I don’t think I would agree with the dubious morality of the film’s screenwriter, but the way she wrote her characters and of romances made you want to be whisked away by a heterosexual man, charmed by the most dramatic lines a man wouldn’t imagine saying in reality. Many romance films were never great critically, but they always seem so satisfying—especially when the man was written by a woman.

It was coincidental that this film was out again in the local cinema when I was at the crossroads of trying to figure out just why I was thinking of Yuki so much, even if I don’t think of him in that way. In summary, the film tried to answer the age-old question: Can a man and woman be friends?

The question just hurt my head, so I set it aside—in other words, ignored it.

As I walked home from the cinema, all I thought about was when Harry told Sally, “…When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” I wanted something like that for myself. I kept repeating the ending scene, keeping my head down, until as I entered the elevator, bumped into the chest of a friend—er, acquaintance.

“Are you alright?” A familiar voice asked me, and when I looked up, Yuki was looking straight down at me. I realized the difference in height between the both of us. I could only nod slowly at him.

“Are you sure? You were staring at the floor.”

I nodded profusely, stepping to his right. I still kept my head low. Come the elevator ride, which, again, always took a thousand years. As we went up, I could feel his eyes poke my unattractive slouch. Wish I could die right now! 

“Did you come from work?” He asked me, attempting to make small talk

The elevator doors opened.

“Ah, no. I came from the cinema.” 

We both stepped out. Every second turned into an hour, and though it took less than a minute to get to our doors, we seemed to be walking at a snail’s pace.

“You like movies?” He asked me.

“I love them. I watch one every day.”

“Wow. Are you actually a famous actress?”

“No, no,” I laughed, “But I wanted to be a filmmaker once.”

“You should recommend me some movies. I’m sure you have good taste.”

I smiled, “Thank you. But tell me what kind of films you like first. It might be too boring or too cheesy for you.” 

“I’m not really sure what I like. I mean I watch anime. But I want to know what your favorite movie is.”

I stopped. “Why?”

“Why not? You are a very interesting person.”

For a moment, I looked at him. His entire face, not his eyes. I’m not brave enough to look at them. I scratched my head and faced the floor again. He tilted his head, and I believed that for a minute, we turned into idiots again, waiting for each other to respond. He raised his voice to say something but changed his mind. I did the same thing. Eventually, I was the one who broke the silence that formed between us:

“I’ll slip in a list of my favorite films under your door.”

I mustered the courage to look at his face.

I don’t know if he was smiling through his teeth, but I knew that he was smiling with his eyes, and it made all the difference. I suddenly gained the motivation to write up a good list for him. I just hoped that he had the time to go through each and every one of them.

I didn’t know what men liked, especially with someone like him who didn’t seem too enthusiastic about cinema to me. You wouldn’t want something too violent, crude, dreamy, or fast-paced. Most definitely not too philosophical. It’s not that I wanted to impress him, I just felt like I didn’t want him to switch on the television and spend an hour and a half watching a film he wouldn’t even enjoy at all.

“I watched all of them, by the way,” Yuki told me when we bumped into each other again in the hallway. I guess it was the power of the first meeting: you just kept on meeting them again.

“All of them? But those were twenty films!” I felt my eyes widen. With a sports career like his, would you even have time for anything else?

“I watched all of them while stretching… or eating… or when I was bored,” he said as he walked towards me with a wide smile on his face.

“Did you enjoy any of them?”

“I liked all of them. Where do you watch them?”

Maybe I was too mean to his eyes. They were never meant to intimidate or to investigate other people but to comfort them. I now realized that he simply wanted to pay attention to me, which is perfect because I am, quite frankly, without attention. A few circuits in my brain exploded before I could give him a well-thought-out response.

“I watch them in the cinema just a few streets away. Or I watch them online.”

“There’s a cinema nearby?”

“Yes, it’s a fifteen-minute walk there. And it’s the perfect distance: fifteen minutes to the cinema to gather your expectations for the film you’re going to watch, and fifteen minutes from the cinema to ponder on what you just watched.”

“I never thought of walking that way. It’s an exercise for the body,  but I never thought it could be an exercise for the mind.”

“Well, Yuki, when you hate the idea of walking but have to endure it just to see something that could make you feel happy, you’d have to think of other ways to make walking enjoyable.”

“But why would you waste fifteen minutes just to see if you could feel happy?”

“It’s more than just the trip that could have brought me unhappiness. It could be a burnt egg during breakfast or a boss’ scolding in the afternoon. If I felt angry, sad, or both for more than twelve hours but watched a film that was an hour and thirty minutes long and had an extra fifteen minutes to myself just thinking about that film and how good it was, then at least I could say that the day was lived through well.”

For a minute, Yuki froze and stared at me. He then looked away from my eyes and nodded slowly, as if he had just processed what I just said. He laughed–no, giggled–and scratched the back of his head. It must have been a nervous reaction. Or maybe I was trying to read him a little too much.

“What’s your job?” he suddenly asked me.

“My job?”

“I-If you don’t mind, you know, me asking?”

“Oh, way different from the movies, for sure. I just work at a tiny office building thirty minutes away. Nothing too important.”

“You don’t make movies?”

“It’s just not practical. I hate my job, but at least it pays my film tickets.”

We both awkwardly laughed. My damn humor.

“Uh–Can I watchsome of the movieswith you sometime?” He asked me with a pace much faster than how he usually spoke.

“Of course.”

“But not all the time, I’m busy with training and games… of course…”

“It’s no problem. Just… tell me if you want to come with me. I go to the cinema on the weekends. I always leave at around six.”

“Okay. I’ll see you… next time.”

“See you around, Yuki.”

We exchanged our friendliest of smiles before Yuki walked to the door of his unit. For some reason, I didn’t want time to stop. I let out a loud sigh. As  I opened the door, I instinctively turned my head towards his direction.

He was looking at me.

“Goodnight,” I told him.

His smile was much weaker. Even if the only responsibility that was entrusted to his hands was to open the door of his unit, he seemed clumsy with it. Quite unusual for his character–even if all I really knew about him was based on limited interactions. He seemed to be in a trance; he shook his head and entered his home.

He didn’t greet me back.

Weeks had passed since we had a major interaction. There and then, we would greet each other a few times, but it wasn’t anything of importance for me to tell. Each and every greeting was filled with a pinch of half-crooked smiles and a teaspoon of inevitable awkwardness. In my case, I always seemed to enjoy our dishes of interactions but with a dash of overthinking. Did he hate me? I could never really tell with him, as the thoughts are always diminished every time he asks for my wellbeing.

“I hope the movie isn’t too long this time,” my aunt told me.

“I searched on the internet. It’s two hours and thirty minutes long,” I replied.

She sighed and told me, “Nothing I could do to stop you from your movie watching. Just text me if you’ll be home a little beyond 9:30. You know me.”

“Sorry for making you worry that one time.”

“It’s alright. I just don’t want your mom scolding me. You know how she is. Run along.”

I greeted her goodbye, as she turned her head to the television screen and watched a K-Drama that seemed to be all the craze these days. As much as I used to enjoy shows, I could never really commit to one, which is why I love films so much: it would only take one sitting for you to finish a story. As I waited for the elevator, a door opened, and a figure began to approach me. As I was about to turn to them, the elevator doors opened.

“Are you going to the cinema today?”

Ah, Yuki.

“Yes, I am,” I replied cheerfully. We both went on the elevator.

“What are you watching tonight?”

“Cinema Paradiso. It’s an old film–I think it’s older than me. It’s one of my favorite films, it was why I loved watching films in the first place.”

“You didn’t recommend that to me,” he pouted.

I was surprised by his memory. “It was a sappy film. I didn’t know if you’d like it. But it’s an Italian film, so you might be interested after all.”

“Then is it okay if we watch it together?”

When the elevators opened, I walked out first, and jumped up and down to his request as he walked out after me. I led the way to the cinema, which, of course, took fifteen minutes to get there. He was inquisitive, asking questions about other movies I watched and Italian cinema in particular–considering where we were and what we were going to watch after all.

“Do you still go to the cinema even if it rains? Orrrr if it’s too cold?”

“Yeah. But sometimes I get stuck at the cinema cause I’d forget to bring an umbrella.”

He looked at my hands.

“I hope we don’t get stuck tonight,” he said with a smile.

"I think we should be asking more important questions," I began to tease him.

"Like what?"

"Your fans."

He scoffed

"Oh, don't worry about them. It was just that one time. They don't know where I live anyway."

We eventually got to the cinema, which was, as usual, barely occupied. I never really knew if they were the same people visiting–you could never tell who was who in the dark, and I never bothered to search for familiar faces when the lights went up. We sat in the center because, to me, it was never too near nor too far.

The entire time, we sat in silence, with a few laughs in between. Being the emotional person that I was, I sniffled–the tears dried thanks to the handkerchief Yuki had brought. Most of the time, he was still, but I hoped that he was taking the entire film in. In the middle of the film, there were a set of scenes that embarked, full of longing and yearning, caused greatly by something that was difficult to attain for the film’s couple: love.

It was around this time I could feel Yuki squirm a little, whether it was because it made him uncomfortable or thinking of someone else, I could never really tell. In the corner of my eye, I could feel him turn to me, then to the screen, and to me again. When I finally decided to confront him, I picked up a piece of popcorn from the bucket and showed it to him, like a child putting out their favorite toy to everyone.

He thanked me. I had expected him to pick it from my fingers, but he ate it straight away instead. The pressure and touch of his lips were minimal but it was enough to at least make me identify that they were… soft. Besides the projector, one of the greatest benefits of the movie houses was that many of our facial expressions were concealed–something that I am grateful for hiding my red face. I placed the popcorn bucket between us and he graciously got some more, to which I hoped that he had forgotten what had just transpired minutes ago.

When the film ended, my eyes were puffy. Yuki, though I would say less generous with his emotions (or maybe he was uncomfortable with me?), had a few tears in his eyes. I pulled out the handkerchief he had just lent me and dabbed the corners of his eyes. It was a little difficult to reach out to him, not because of his height, but because I was trying to contemplate what was the socially acceptable distance between us. When his tears had finally dried, I stared into the credits.

“Let’s stay here for a while,” I told him, “I always watch the credits till the very end.”

When the credits were done, we left the cinema in silence. We stood side by side. Normally, if I were with a friend, I would have started babbling about the events of the film. Now, I found myself saying absolutely nothing. Not at all what I intended, because Yuki is also my friend, right?

“Now I understand why you go there every weekend. It was a nice movie. The atmosphere is quiet and the seats are good, even for someone as tall as me,” he turned to me and placed his palm on my head, as if to mock my height. I laughed at him and playfully slapped his arm.

“There’s something about that cinema that feels magical, don’t you think? That’s why I enjoy watching with a larger projector screen than a phone screen at times.”

“It’s much better when you watch it with someone.”

“It is! Sometimes when the film’s funny, it’s great to crack jokes with them.”

“You go with other people? Who else?”

“Oh, just my aunt. Or sometimes with a couple of friends.”

“No boyfriend?”

I paused. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to have one.

“No, I don’t have one. I’m too cowardly to ask anyone out.”

The air grew harsher, and so did the snowfall. I placed my hands in my jacket, placing my arms as close to my torso as if to shake off the cold temperature. It’s only a temporary remedy. My teeth began to chatter—so much for coming from a place that has never snowed. Yuki watched me freeze to death, with his clothes looking much warmer than mine,

“May I?” Yuki placed his hand in front of me.

I didn’t know what he was referring to, but I could only say “Yes.”

We stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, facing each other. He took my hands, using them to pull me a little bit closer. He warmed my hands by blowing into them with his breath and rubbing them with his own hands. For a moment, I looked at him and for the first time since our first meeting, I could never conjure up any hypothesis that could explain this behavior.

“I feel much warmer now,” I whispered to him. The travel of his eyes from my hands to my eyes was slower, more hesitant.

“Are you sure?” he asked me, still holding onto my hands. I let my hands slip away from his slowly.

“We’re almost there to the apartment. I’ll be alright now,” I answered.

The rest of the way back home was filled with silence and emotions I was yet to identify.

When we got back, we both stopped in front of my apartment. I was back to normalcy. I couldn’t look into his eyes.

“I enjoyed it–” I started.

“Are you going again next week?” He asked me immediately.

“Of course. Why?”

“Is it okay if… I went with you–”

“Of course it is–”

“I just want to be your friend.”

Silence.

“I don’t bite, Yuki… I’ve always wanted to know you more anyway. Don’t be a stranger.”

He smiled softly, and I felt my stomach flipping.

Again, I am not interested in him that way. It’s just the feeling of not talking to people a lot, I promise.

“Well then. I’ll see you next week,” he told me. He patted my head and walked towards his apartment.

In the next month or so, Yuki found his way into my life. I wasn’t complaining. It wasn’t that I didn’t have any friends, but I never had a friend as engaging as him.

Do friendships also have honeymoon phases?

Forgive me, allow me to retract my previous question.

There were times when we would walk to and from the cinema talking about the film we were about to or just watched, discussing the philosophy of the film and our lives. On other days, we didn’t talk about the film at all–we talked about ourselves and what we went through from the week before the shenanigans with my coworkers and my boss or with Yuki and his teammates. Sometimes, I would confide in him my loneliness and he in me his deepest fears. Though my usual travel time from or to the cinema consistently took fifteen minutes, we would sometimes delay it by five minutes… ten… fifteen… because we spent so much time talking to each other that we never really realized how slow we both walked.

But there were times when we would just walk in complete silence. We didn’t hurry to get back to the apartment either. We walked with a certain rhythm and pace, and somehow, I enjoyed that the most. The most important sound in a film was never really the music or effects that would play, but silence. It amplifies the richness of the scene and more so the action of us walking without speaking to each other. 

It was also this silence that made me hear the beating of my heart, that I am most certainly in love with him. Romantically interested. Admired. Liked. Fascinated. Intrigued. And I knew that this was a dangerous path, knowing his quirks and the time spent between us, I knew that there was no door for me to walk in and take a hold of his heart. 

I think I’ve seen this film before.

So I decided to guard my emotions, and not do anything about it. I valued his thoughts, and to a greater extent, our friendship. I couldn't tell how honest he’s been to his other friends, but I am not open to the idea of him losing a friend he could talk to just because she’s in love with him. I’ve dealt with enough heartbreak; I’ve mourned more of the friendships lost than the romantic relationship that could have been.

These feelings would pass, as all things have.

One particular night, we had just watched The Moon Has Risen, a Japanese film made in the 50s by Kinuyo Tanaka. Yuki was thrilled to see a film from his homeland, much more a film that he had never heard of. He told me that he was never fond of romance but was willing to give this film a shot since I told him that I loved that film so much–which led him to jokingly say that I was much more cultured than he was because I knew more Japanese films than he did.

But before we even got to the gates, he stopped me.

“I have something to tell you…” he trailed off. I raised my eyebrows. I have now seen his nervous state: his sweaty hands, his avoidant eyes, and much softer voice. Whatever he was willing to say, I knew that both of us were not going to be the same when we went through that gate.

“I’ll be gone,” he simply said. It was short and plain.

“For how long?” I asked.

“When spring comes, I–I’ll be moving somewhere else in the city. Then I’ll leave the country in a few months, then return next winter.”

In other words, he’s leaving. We were never to meet again.

“Oh. It’s a shame,” was all I could say. Short. Plain.

Spring was visiting in two weeks or so.

“Yes, it is,” he told me, “It’s more of a shame that we won’t have time together anymore.”

“Just when I started to get to know you…”

“I know. I mean we can uh… talk on the phone.”

I simply nodded.

“Are you upset with me?” He asked bluntly.

“No, I could never be.”

“I learned so much from you. Not just because of the films we watched. I am seeing my life in another way because of the things you would tell me. And I love you–I mean I–You’re a good friend, for that. You are a good person. Even if I know you have a hard time talking to people. You make an effort. I like it.”

Though spring was about to enter our small world, the air felt colder.

Colder than all the times we traveled to and from the cinema. 

I’m not allowed to be upset. He chose this career, and it demands him to do all sorts of things. That path was set in stone for him long before we had met. But there’s a part of me that wants to damn the stars–Was there no other way we could meet? I agreed to keep a distance and to not make a move, and now I won’t be able to admire him from that reasonable distance. The volleyball games were always there, sure, but I won’t be able to hear his every thought—an "exchangeless" currency that I now realize had a rarity I hadn’t hoarded enough. Still, I could not allow selfishness to overcome my feelings, after he had just called me a good person.

“Didn’t I tell you that our meeting was a sign of a good friendship? Distance won’t take away the times we had together, even if it was just for a season. I’ll always be here–and so will the cinema–if you ever decide to pass by,” I told him as I felt my throat dry and sting, “You’re dear to me, nothing will ever change that. So let’s not be sad.”

Yuki took the deepest breath and quickly looked down at his feet. He shook his head before looking up at me. He smiled at me, which I quickly caught faltering before he was able to put his smile back up again.

There were many things that I could say–more that were worth shouting. If silences could bring about a new layer of comfort between people, it could also incite fear: the fear that the ending will inevitably come. Though my hands were freezing, I wanted to say something just so we wouldn’t have to go back inside and return to our apartments and distance ourselves and move on with our lives. Or say something that could change the trajectory of our lives together.

But a coward was what I was. The good minutes of silence between us was a terrible signal that we had to go home, and that we did. The elevator ride, for once, moved in its natural time; it did not slow. Our steps out of the elevator were slow and hesitant, but time still passed quickly. When we got to my apartment, he told me, “I’ll be packing up. I think I’ll be done by next week.”

“Alright.”

“I might pass by your apartment before I leave.”

I took those words to heart. Too much, I believe.

Because he never visited me before left.

The seasons change, and so do we.

Spring has passed, and so has summer and fall. Winter is about to end.

My aunt was disappointed when she learned that Yuki had left, knowing that my life had returned to normalcy.

“Why didn’t you confess to him!?” She asked, shaking me violently, “Do you know how long your mom–Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this!? I can’t let my niece be bitchless!”

“Yuki’s a really famous volleyball player, you know that? I don’t think he has time for someone like me.”

“Pfft–for someone like you. If he tolerated you like you said he did, he wouldn’t go out in the freezing weather every weekend to watch movies with you.”

“Hey–I didn’t say tolerating! I said he was a good friend. Good friends enjoy the company of other people.”

“Nah, nah… I’ve played the love game for so long. He’s in love with you. I know it, I know it.”

“Whatever suits you.”

I never bothered to ask Yuki about why he wanted to go to my apartment and what he wanted to say in the first place. He probably meant to give some biscuits and some parting gifts. But it probably expired, and he was too embarrassed to send in anything. Or so I believed. My aunt told me he was probably going to profess his love, but I don’t think that was the case. It would be uncharacteristic of him.

We still keep in touch. But I’m not much of a social media person, so I’m much less enthusiastic. I know it’s still him talking, but I would rather see him behind the screen, speaking to me. I want to see his lips move, and oh, see his infinite smile. I want to reach his head and ruffle his silly hair, as much as I used to make fun of it for looking so burnt.

He was around the area now and then, which could have been an opportunity for him to visit, but somehow, we never got the chance. He could probably be in the area right now for all we know, walking right under my very nose. I’ll find out sooner or later on Instagram.

Now, here I am, sitting by the window, eating a bowl of near-expired yogurt. It’s past one in the afternoon on a weekend, so I’m taking in my time watching the people pass by. When you’re lonely and boyfriend-less (Or, as my aunt likes to say, “Yuki-less”), you resort to doing ridiculous things such as this. Though I could have visited the cinema around this time, I decided to go against it–I am reminded too much of our time together.

Then there’s a knock on the door. Another. Afterwards, it becomes faster and faster, until I lazily stand up and open the door.

“There’s a doorbell—”

Yuki appears before me, with his hands ready to knock on the door once more. My eyes widen as much as his–which is funny because he should be expecting me by the door–and our cheeks redden. There’s a beat before either of us gets to talk.

“–You know…” I trail off.

“Hello,” he greets me.

“Hi. What brings you here?”

“I just wanted to see you.”

No other particular reason?

“Well, it’s nice seeing you again, Yuki. Come on in,” I sigh. I lead him to the dining set, where we both sit across from each other.

“Before I say anything, I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For saying that I wanted to visit you one last time and not visiting you anyway.”

I raise my eyebrows, stretching my arms. I look at my surroundings before I could really look into his eyes, “I have no problem with that. I know you’re busy–”

“I wasn’t busy–”

“You don’t have to lie–”

“I didn’t visit because I was afraid.”

Beat.

“Yuki… I know humans hate goodbyes. It’s only natural.”

“No, you don’t understand–let me explain. I wanted to come to your apartment before I left because I wanted to tell you what I felt.”

“About what?”

“About you. I–I–”

He lightly combs his messy hair. He looks around the apartment as if to look for something that could calm him down. Then he looks at me, before avoiding my face altogether. He takes in a deep breath… one… two… three… before he continues talking:

“I liked you–no, don’t interrupt me–I like you. Before we met, uhhh I passed by you when I was unpacking my things. Your voice was so loud that I could hear everything. But the way you said it… interested me. And I like people who talk a lot. But I couldn’t find a way to… talk to you…” He pauses, everything becoming a calculation to him, before continuing, “…And I didn’t mean our first meeting to go like that. But when I was running away, and I saw you, I had this… feeling… this… what do you call it… instinct… to pull you with me.”

He then tells me, “The reason why I didn’t want to talk to you after so many months was because I thought you were angry at me. Your responses are much shorter than how you spoke in real life. And I thought I messed up.”

He takes in a sharp breath, “I remember everything since when we first met. The days when you would tie your hair… and the days you do not. The outfits that you wore. But what I remember the most was the things you would tell me. It would be hard for me to not like someone whose eyes would go big and their hands would move around every time they talk about something that they loved. You’re just… full of… love.”

I did not know he was capable of doing this, nor was he withholding such emotions for so long.

I stood up and sat beside him. Months had passed when I had overcome the fear of looking into his eyes, but I fear that it’s all returned. I cannot look at him.

I say to him, with my head down, “Thank you for telling me all that.”

“Is that…”

“...I… feel just about the same way too.”

“You do?”

“Of course–do you not believe me? I haven’t gone to the cinema that much since you’ve left. And to think I’ve gone to the cinema for nearly every week of my entire life before you came along.”

“You like me? Why?”

I laugh at him and pinch his cheeks. “Do I need a reason to like you? I like you for who you are. And I’m sure you know who you are. Every bit of yourself–I admire it.”

He looks at me, and he nods at every word. He looks to the side as if to process everything, and then he looks at me again. He wants to say something, a syllable coming out of his lips, but nothing keeps coming out. He sighs over and over, before looking at me straight into my eyes.

So when his voice fails himself, all that is left is the language of touch. He puts his arms out first and reaches out to me. Slowly… inch by inch… Then an embrace. He covers my body with his large hands, as the words he wanted to put out are finally clear to me: the roughness of his hands translates to the command of his voice, the pressing of his fingers the depth of his words, and the more his skin is stuck with the rest of me, the more I could identify the unspoken sentences.

He breaks our hug to take a good look at me, capturing a photo only his memory can take, each shot separated by the blinking of his desperate eyes. Then he kisses me. 

To say “I admire you” too platonic, “I love you” too strong. The best I can do was to look into his eyes. To look into the eye of another was to become vulnerable, but to look into his eyes was a moment of submission and power in a gentleness I could not feel from any other person but him. He sees me, I see him—to the both of us, these meant more. He pats my hair to an unfamiliar beat. Immediately after, he places his hand on my forehead horizontally and slowly slides it down, closing my eyes. He kisses my left eyelid then my right. 

“Did you take some inspiration from Amélie?” I ask him.

“I was starting to like more romantic movies because I could learn a bit from them,” he laughs.

“Aren’t you an adorable idiot.”

“It took both of us a year to say what we wanted to say. I think it’s something we should work on–we’re both idiots, after all.”

We both laugh as we look out into the window.

The snow had already fallen, spreading out on the streets like fallen flowers. They’ve melted as they always eventually did. Winter has come and gone. Now comes spring, and our story begins to bloom with it.

[itadoir]

mighty stranger

# jujutsu kaisen, gojo satoru x reader

fluff, angst, set during geto defect timestamp, 2.1k wc

an: gojooooooooo oneshot!! not proofread or edited

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

your love for gojo satoru is boundless, and he knows it.

it didn’t take long after meeting him before he pierced your soul and pushed you down an abyss of love. there was not even a moment of fear, of peering down at the dark nothingness, as you fell.

he didn’t need his six eyes to see how pure the love you felt towards him was. he didn’t need to make a note of every small movement you made, any hint that there were ulterior motives other than the fact that you loved him, to be with him. with you, he didn’t need to keep up his iron walls of defense that accompanied him through all his younger years.

“and shoko’s too busy with her study to help me,” he whines. he digs his face further into your chest as he lays between your legs, long arms snaking beneath your loose t-shirt as he wraps them around your waist. your arms hang around the nape of his neck loosely. you shift your body so that your back presses comfortably against the wooden headboard of your bed.

“is that so?” your face crinkles in adoration.

satoru turns his head once it gets too hot to breathe comfortably. your eyes, curled into a crescent shape that charmingly accompanied your smile, trail over the messy strands of snowy hair and onto his ears and then onto the outlines of his nose and lips. satoru’s eyelashes were long enough to brush against his cheekbones, you note.

“yeah!” his bottom lips jut out, “how do i polish my technique if she doesn’t help me!”

your fingers find their way into his hair, brushing out the very few tangles, “because you’re the strongest, ‘toru.”

the pout quickly turns into a shy smile, like a kid who just received compliments from their parent. he pulls his head up, leaning closer to your face.

that was his indication for wanting a kiss. you giggled, giving in.

strongest.

in his younger years, as soon as he could piece together sentences, satoru noticed that the words ‘the strongest’ would follow closely behind his name in any given conversation. even as he looked at other children his age burying their faces into their parents’ necks or holding hands with a friend as they engaged in a casual playdate, he would never admit that those two words left a sour aftertaste in his mouth.

he spends much of his childhood either behind the walls of his clan’s compound or engaging in fights against curses. servants and clan members alike would bow their heads down and walk the other way around if they sensed the presence of the prodigy.

gojo satoru is the strongest, but he is human before that. and loneliness creeps up on him like a ghost, always trailing a few steps behind. it was like a stain in a shirt that was impossible to get rid of even if the epidermis of your fingertips had broken away while scrubbing it with your hands. those two words were branded onto him with an invisible scalding iron the moment he was born, haunting him like a curse. a curse that even the strongest could not rid himself of.

it wasn’t until his enrollment into jujutsu high and meeting you, shoko, and suguru, that it all changed.

he remembers his first mission with you. you, gifted with a powerful cursed technique. you, fully capable of defending yourself against a semi-grade 1 curse but rendered immobile as fear shocks your nerves. the neurotransmitter in your body seem to be malfunctioning as you chant ‘move! move!’ internally but still unable to make any physical movement.

satoru rolled his eyes, looking down on you. a powerful technique wasted, he thought at the time.

it barely took a flick of his finger before the curse was exorcised.

pushing his pride aside, he walks up to you and offers you a hand. your legs had given out on you. dust and dirt collect on the jujutsu high uniform skirt while you sat on the ground, still not recovered.

“i’m the strongest,” he proclaimed, “you won’t die on a mission with me.”

since then, you followed behind him like a lost puppy, replacing the ghost known as loneliness that previously loomed over every second of his life.

“yeah,” he smirked, pulling away from the kiss, “i’m the strongest.”

if someone were to ask when was the moment satoru fell in love with you, it would be the moment you first met his eyes. at first, you were like another one of those gutless weaklings in his clan, always keeping your head down and never looking him, or anyone matter of fact, in the eyes.

a few months after being acquainted with you, shoko and suguru came up to him to ask about what gifts you would like.

“gifts?” a slender eyebrow perked up.

“yeah,” suguru shrugged, “it’s her birthday next week. you spend the most time with her, so you probably know what she likes best, right?”

he pursed his lips. the concept of friends celebrating birthdays was still one that was foreign to him. though he sometimes thought of you as pesky by the way you always trailed after him, it was undeniable that you were possibly the closest person he could consider a “friend.” memories about daifuku, specifically strawberry daifuku’s, came to his head. every few weeks, you would bring him boxes of dessert, most of the time being daifuku, carefully wrapped before being placed in a white paper bag and handed to him.

“she likes desserts.”

he assumed you liked daifuku because it was the thing that you most often gifted him. you thought he liked daifuku because you caught him staring at it once when the two of you passed by a bakery.

shortly after the conversation, he embarked on a journey to buy “the best daifuku in japan!” gojo satoru put more effort into planning your birthday than he had for any other event in his life. balloon, confetti, banner, birthday hats, and a customized two-level cake.

his heart beats fast as he drums his finger against the wooden surface of the teacher’s podium while waiting for shoko and you. he felt sick, like he was about to throw up. suguru threw a knowing smirk at him when gojo voiced those feelings out loud.

the white-haired man’s head snapped towards the door as he hears footsteps–shoko stomping particularly loud just in case the two ended up bickering and missing your footsteps. he adjust the pointy birthday hat on his head and whispers at suguru to do the same.

utterly, helplessly in love and he didn’t even know it.

“happy birthday!” he gleams, twisting a confetti popper as the door slides open.

after months, you finally raised your head, meeting his piercing eyes with your shaky orbs as tears line your bottom lid.

“h-hey! don’t cry!” satoru panics, a rosy pink painting his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he rushes to your side. he digs in his pockets for a handkerchief, only to pull out a slightly moist piece of cloth.

he sweated more than usual today.

“sorry,” your future lover muttered, stuffing the cloth back into his pockets, “got kinda dirty.”

“no-! thank you, gojo-san,” a grin blooms on your face. to this day, he still swears that the world stopped right then for cupid to shoot an arrow through his heart.

from beside the two of you, shoko and suguru share a look.

it doesn’t take long before your boyfriend’s breaths even out as he gets lulled to sleep in the same position, ears pressed against your chest as he listens to the rhythmic beating of your heart.

fatigue was evident through your dark bags and droopy eyes but sleep did not come to you as easily as it did for him. you stayed awake, running your fingers through his hair until it felt like you could remember the placement of every strand of his silky hair. your eyes stayed on the side of his face and the smile never left your face, though at some point it turned from adoration to somewhat melancholic.

suguru’s question repeats over and over again like a mantra.

earlier in the day, you met up with him in the laboratory, forced to make up an experiment that you two missed whilst attending a mission. attending jujutsu high does not equate to being able to skip core classes you would attend in a normal high school.

“should be easy enough,” you shrugged as you skimmed over the instructions, “simple titration.”

“not as simple as it seems,” suguru busies himself with prepping all the materials, “you have to be very meticulous. one drop too little and the color disappears. one drop too much and the solution’s overly titrated, meaning the experiment failed.”

you and suguru have gotten closer. satoru has been hell-bent on becoming the strongest and shoko was never sent off on dangerous missions in the first place, meaning the two of you would embark on missions together.

and you two were rather similar. gifted with powerful techniques that come at the expense of burdening your own body.

a sigh escapes your lips as you rub your temple. migraines have become a frequent visitor in your life now. you wanted nothing more than to go home; instead, you had to spend more time in this lab and then go and wait for your lovely boyfriend.

it doesn’t take a genius to tell that you’re burned out. dark circles were visible even with the layer of foundation and concealer on. you run your tongue over your pale, dry lips as you dig in your bag for a tube of lip gloss. your friend would’ve made a comment about your lethargy if it wasn’t for the fact that he was almost in the same state as you–fatigued and exhausted.

he doesn’t say much at all, only carefully adding the standard solution drop by drop. you don’t say much either, hands clasped on the neck of the flask and you swirled the glassware carefully.

it was almost magical. when the liquids made contact, a bright pink color was produced, only to disappear seconds later. drop by drop, suguru adds the standard solution until the liquid in the flask finally turns light pink. almost perfect.

“hey, (y/n),” he starts off, “may i ask you a question?”

you nodded.

“do you think you can keep going as a jujutsu sorcerer? it’s not too hard for you?”

the world stops. the birds outside the windows stop chirping and the air suddenly feels suffocating.

if it was up to you, you would’ve never become a jujutsu sorcerer.

you were tired. tired of burdening and tormenting your body for non-sorcerers who gratefully thanked you one second and went on to curse someone else the next. it was a never-ending cycle, as long as humans were to exist, so would curses. and you would have to spend the rest of your limited days battling curses to the point of exhaustion until maybe one day you would come across a curse strong enough to kill you.

you never voiced your distaste for non-sorcerers out loud. there are one too many that walk away with their noses stuck up to the sky as they grunt about how you just made them late and ruined their day, right after you had just saved their lives. how could one blame them for their ignorance towards the existence of curses? but how could anyone blame you for wanting to leave all this?

but your parents, and satoru–most importantly satoru–, would want this.

and you love satoru so much that whatever souls are made up of, his and yours are the same. his miseries are yours, and so are his desires.

your eyes stayed glued on the flask, the surface of the light pink liquid still swirling in a spiral. accidentally, another drop of the standard solution falls in. in the span of a millisecond, the solution turns hot pink. a saturated color that was unpleasant to look at.

suguru sighed, standing up straight, “bleh. let’s just copy off of shoko.”

you bit your lips, “yeah.”

the first ray of sunshine peaks through your window when the sun meets with the ocean once again. you’re pulled back to reality.

perhaps you knew that the moment suguru uttered those words and planted the seed, your character would sway. perhaps that was why you spent your last moment remembering every curvature of his face, every freckle on his cheek as you offered your final farewell in silence.

right, suguru. you had a mission with suguru today.

112 residents of the village were killed, after which a fire…

(by the time jujutsu high investigated on september 21…

investigations confirmed that all 112 were…

residuals revealed to be the work suguru geto’s curse manipulation..

suspected accomplice, (y/n) (l/n)...

false.

suguru geto took a total of 113 lives that night. he violated the law of jujutsu sorcerers, using his curse manipulation to massacre a village he was tasked to help. 112 lives of civilians. non-sorcerers. and, on top of that, he took away the life of the strongest sorcerer, leaving behind an empty shell that was no longer gojo satoru but something he had always been known as, “the strongest,” in a world that suddenly turned into a mighty stranger.

[alienbabydraws]

PM me to inquire about details or get a price on something.

PLEASE cycle this around, I'd really appreciate it as this is my only income right now.

Pricing details and more examples under the cut!

The pricing above is a basic format, but depending on the amount of detail it can vary. 

Please consider commissioning me! This is my primary source of income, and basically All I Do...SO I can promise things in a timely manner if you need.

For additional characters:

+ $20 for sketch + $35 for Lines/Shading + $40 for Flat Color and for a fully rendered image pricing can be negotiated but starts at $75 and goes up from there.

NSFW:

+ $75 + Discuss this with me first, pricing can be negotiated depending on detail. (Drawing sexytimes is hard, but I’m not opposed.)

Backgrounds:

+ $125 + Price can be negotiated based on detail.

Paintings:

+ Painting prices vary based on detail  as well and can be negotiated, but generally I will charge 25 an hour, because they do take me quite a while to complete. 

My Terms:

+ Payment will need to be given in full upon receiving the initial sketch. After the sketch is approved, there will be no refunds. (Sorry!) + Allow me at least 1-4 weeks to complete your piece. Generally it will take less time than that, but if there are several slots taken up it may take me some time to get to yours. (I will communicate with you, but feel free to ask for a progress update!) + Non-Commercial use ONLY unless discussed. NO NFTs. + Feel free to use the art you receive for whatever you’d like, but please give me credit :> + Payment through Paypal or Ko-Fi

[cios-correct-opinions]

@evilkaeya @aaabatteryy @starrynightarchive

see my other post about this here

to tl;dr this: when it comes to fandom and content creators, ppl tend to make content of the characters they already love and thus think about most often, which leads to, at times, male characters getting genderbent into women either thru cis or trans hcs, bc they are both genderbending, thats the definition of the term bc youre changing their gender, and getting mad at people for not, in your opinion, "appreciating" the female characters enough, is not doing anything except making people feel bad for not having the "correct" feelings about a character at best, or making them actively angry and thus fueling them to create more of that thing you hate out of spite at worst (for you anyway, not for the people who like it).

this doesnt mean they dont give a shit abt the other characters who arent their faves, but to create a work of art, you need to be able to like. care enough to do it. and that requires more care than just a general enjoyment or appreciation of a character, especially if the work in question is time intensive/would be time intensive, like writing a chapter fic/thousands of words long oneshot, or making a fully rendered piece of art, etc. obvi this will depend on the skill and energy levels of the artist we're talking about but yknow, on a general scale

op of this post blocked me so i cant respond directly on it but, for context

first of all: i'm not illiterate but i'm beginning to think some people on this post might be, given this response, because it is so clearly Not what i was talking about it's a little wild, actually!

also i hate to tell yall this, but the reason you don't often see people genderbending female characters to male anymore is bc of the spread of radfem ideology thru fandom spaces like wildfire. ppl genuinely lose their shit when ppl even have transmasc or trans man headcanons for characters assumedly cis female in the source material (which is genderbending btw. them being trans doesnt mean it isnt genderbending anymore you are still changing their gender thus it is genderbending thats the definition fellas) bc they fucking hate men and the idea of men existing

sorry not sorry but if you get mad at ppl who genderbend female characters into transmascs/trans men (transmascs aren't always genderbends, bc you can be transmasc and also a woman, but i digress/for the sake of brevity...) and go "you're TAKING AWAY a GOOD FEMALE CHARACTER!" i need you to stop for a second and consider why these people - most of whom are trans men/transmascs themselves - might be doing that to a character they like.

9/10 times when i see a cis genderbend of a male character to be female, the person doing it is a cis woman. when i see genderbends, of any kind, of a female character to be male or masc? it's almost always done by a trans man and/or a transmasc. and inevitably, they are almost always dogpiled for it with disgusting levels of hate. i've seen it happen so many times i stopped attempting to count a long time ago

don't come up here saying "you NEVER see-" because actually i see all of those things happen all the time. ppl love genderbending men characters into women, or emasculating/demasculinizing/feminizing them in order to make them personally more appealing, or saying "[mlm ship] would be better if it was two girls/wlw/two fem-aligned/etc" all the fucking time. and while i realize this is often a way for the people who say this to like, try to lash out at common misogynistic/lesbiphobic/transmisogynistic/etc sentiment irl, in doing so, they are not doing it in a way that allows for a nuanced understanding of their fellow fandom-goers. they make blanket sweeping statements and then dogpile people who disagree

the moment you start treating entire demographics of people as if they are a hivemind or a single identity, the moment you decide that something "never" happens bc you personally have not seen it? youve already lost any possible chance you mightve had at making a good point

[red-water-dragon]

Raren demonstrating a suspicious spell in front of the royal court.

visual storytelling notes:

The bg was left blank until I started painting and the elements added to the bg were designed around the character. I didn't go into this with a little synopsis of what I wanted to convey. Only an abstract idea that Raren was going to be talking to someone, figure it out later. I decided he'd be presenting a new spell in front of a political chamber because he wears a crown and a blue crystal. So he has to be of some form of nobility and magical prowess. He also has blue eyes meaning he is an ice dragon and thus its a blue spell wow. The monarchs he's addressing are left dark and disapproving in the corner while Raren powers a statue beneath them. He could be demonstrating how the spell effects the world around them, maybe it freezes the stone? maybe it brings the statue to life? Either way its primed to eat Raren's opposition. Two of the bg guys are red one is blue maybe he's an arch nemesis who knows.

Art process and wips under the cut

I'm trying and failing to get better at visual story telling while keeping things simple. My long term goal is to have a frequent and consistent posting schedule. Most of the art would be stylized and simple like this and the rest could be fully rendered.

Art has been more of a "draw what's in you head and make it look pretty/ cool to hang up later" thing to me w/ the benefit of being a good source of self reflection as I create. Writing has more so been my go to for expressing that meditation. Writing I don't share because im unnecessarily cagy abt my emotions and my harshest critic lol. I want to tell stories with my art , convey tone, feeling, etc. and right now my paintings don't do that. I don't have the technical skill yet. This painting is the first of many to come that will hopefully change this.

The texture in this is chaotic and the line work is rough. Raren is the only part of this with a full sketch. All other line art was added to create the illusion of detail. There is less attention on rendering each section and more being put into the placement of characters and props. I had hoped this would make the painting go faster and...it has the potential to do so in the future. Sooo a piece that could have taken a couple hours took a whole day.

While im not overly thrilled with the final image im still happy about the process. Normally the dragon would be the only real focal point in my painting with the bg being a gradient, or a simple theme added last second. Conveying a message is more work but it gives more cool things for the eye to look at and the mind to ponder. So in theory even if the final result is aesthetically unappealing the theme can still salvage the work a bit.

what this taught me:

sketchy line work is passable in the final image

it can even add character to the art

plants are a great way of filling space without actually doing so

(hence the wip of the room looking empty af with out them)

the more clothing and eye candy you put on your character the more clutter you have to add to the bg to balance it out

the main oc was sketched the bg was painted on the fly

doing so saved time but harmed the natural flow of the piece

all of the storytelling is happening in quarters and it is almost abrasive to look at

what ill try in the next piece:

perspective guides

less shading and rendering

find a color palette to stick to

or work in greyscale first

write a little picture synopsis

or pick a theme

just find something that acts as a story guide

sketch out bg elements

toy around with the sketch more before moving to painting