#new version

[dianamit]

It's been a while since I made fanart for this fandom. So I decided to redraw this old one from 2021. ✨

(old one from 2021 on the right, new one from the end of 2024 on the left)

[ahiruartist]

I absolutely love Vash the Stampede ✦

He’s my favorite character (together with Korra from Avatar) 💫

This is already one of many fanarts of him — and probably not the last one!

Which version of Vash do you prefer, the newer or the older one? I’m curious to know — let me know in the comments!

✦Have fun✦

[blogjhm]

This is for @cyndavilachase a collection of screenshots of Steven and Connie from her animatic of them with dialogue from MailBoxes. Still wish her one minute animatic can get some finished animation or I wish to help her make a full animated version of MailBoxes with Steven and Connie in the roles of Lionel and Gertude but having them call each other Steven and Connie and the swear words changed with appropriate words and have them kiss in the end.

[bey-life]

[refinedtaste]

[babsdeaguiar]

[superfajalisticexphidalaossias]

Wish I were heather

Summary- you wore just the sweater, she got the heart

Angst starring- heather, manager!reader , yukimiya kenyu (from blue lock)

Inspired by the song "heather" by conan grey

(this is a newer version with some grammatical changes of the old fic!!)

“I still remember the 3rd of December.”

The day lives in your memory like frost trapped under glass.

Cold. Clear. Unforgettable.

December air curled around the training field, the icy breeze nipping at your fingers as you flipped through the clipboard in your hands. Being the team manager meant responsibility — schedules, sponsors, diets, games. Everything had to be perfect.

But there was one thing that always made the work a little easier.

Yukimiya Kenyu.

Just thinking about his name made something twist in your stomach — warm and terrifying all at once.

You hated how much power he had over you without even knowing it.

You always loved watching him play.

Those soft brown eyes of his sharpening with focus the moment he stepped onto the field. His gaze locked onto the ball like nothing else existed. His movements were so precise, so smooth, it almost looked like he was flying across the grass.

You loved him most in those moments.

Completely focused.

Completely untouchable.

“Me in your sweater.”

You wrapped your arms tighter around the sweater he had given you only minutes ago, the fabric still warm from his body.

“You looked cold,” he said with a careless smile. “Can’t have my favorite manager freezing out here, can I?”

Your heart skipped.

“It looks better on you than it did on me anyway.”

He said it so casually.

Like those words hadn’t just cracked something fragile inside your chest.

If only you knew.

If only you knew how much I liked you.

Your eyes hesitated before meeting his.

You always felt unworthy looking into them.

But God… you loved those eyes.

You loved the way they softened when he laughed.

The way they sparkled when he talked about football.

But oh—

How you hated the way they looked at her.

You noticed it the first time without meaning to.

God, you wished you hadn’t.

Because once you saw it… you could never unsee it.

The way his eyes lit up whenever she walked by.

Heather.

Her name sat heavy in your chest.

You envied her more than you wanted to admit.

But deep down… you understood why he loved her.

She was everything you weren’t.

Her eyes shone just like his — bright with excitement.

Her smile reflected the same warmth that lived in his.

Sometimes, in your quietest moments, you caught yourself thinking something awful.

I wish I were Heather.

“Do you think she would like this, (Name)?”

That was the moment your heart truly broke.

He held up a sweater, turning it slightly so you could see the sleeve.

Small stitched initials rested on the fabric.

H + YK.

Tiny.

But painfully obvious to you.

Your throat tightened.

You would have loved that sweater if he had given it to you.

You almost said it.

I would love it.

But the words died before they could leave your mouth.

Instead you forced a smile.

“I’m sure she’ll love it, Kenyu.”

Your voice sounded steady.

“I’m sure she will.”

He smiled at you.

God.

That smile was dangerous.

Because for a moment — just one moment — it felt like your opinion mattered more than anything.

Like gold.

Like he genuinely cared what you thought.

And maybe he did.

Just… not the way you wished he would.

He broke your heart that day without even realizing it.

You tried to stay professional.

You really did.

You handed him his schedules.

Listed the brands asking to sponsor him.

Planned his diet.

Organized his matches.

Everything.

But every accidental brush of his hand against yours sent your heart spiraling.

Beating too fast.

Breaking all at once.

And he never noticed.

He never lingered.

Never held eye contact too long.

Not like he did with her.

And that was when you understood.

Watching them together told you everything you needed to know.

His hand holding hers.

His arm resting easily around her shoulders.

You had never felt colder in your life.

And he talked about her constantly.

“Did Heather call my phone while I was shooting?”

“Heather would love this, wouldn’t she?”

“Can you clear my schedule for Heather, (Name)?”

Your heart couldn’t take much more of it.

But every time he looked at her…

The way his eyes softened.

The way his brows relaxed.

The way his smile became something gentle and real.

It confirmed the truth you had been trying to ignore.

You were never meant to stand beside him like that.

And every December after that…

Heather was the one wearing his scarf.

Heather was the one wearing his sweater.

Not you.

Never you.

Her.

And God…

You wished you were Heather.