#yes two of these are animated I do not care

[jjmbbg]

"A first time together"

cw: clark kent x fem!reader, protected p in v, loss of 'virginity', insecurities, softie clark bc i'm not feeling well and i need a hug, looots of kissessss, c'moooon look at those pretty lipssss.

(pics from pinterest)

To tell the truth, neither of you knew if the heat you felt was a product of the summer in Smallville or because of the tremendous tension between the two of you. Maybe it was a little bit of both, maybe it was the sun's rays, maybe it was Clark's clumsy, inexperienced hands caressing your thighs over your skirt, maybe it was your own hands holding his head, tangling your fingers in his hair.

Your soft breaths filled his ears, which you caressed from lobe to helix, making him hum softly. His nervous hand was placed against your lower stomach —yes, he dared to move his hand from your thigh, that's brave!— pushing you against the old couch of his little relaxing-space at the barn. This completely daring move allowed him to have a little more control in the situation —even if he didn't know what the fuck he was doing.

He broke the kiss to let you catch your breath, his pretty eyes opening to look you in the eye, taking the time to appreciate every detail in your face: swollen lips from the kissing session, a little scar on your eyebrow which is only visible with sunlight at the right angle, some wrinkles, product of daily stress, and some other spots on your skin.

Oh good Lord, he loved you with his whole heart. To him, you were the prettiest little thing ever. You were also fragile, delicate like glass.

"We've been kissing for like... fifteen minutes?" you chuckled lowly, voice shaky and amused, still a little breathy. "I mean, not like I'm complaining, clearly, but you're gonna wear out my lips"

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck a little embarrassed about it. But he can't help it! You're just... ugh, perfect.

"I kinda got carried away" Clark said as an apology, smiling softly, his canines standing out in his smile as always. "We can stop, y'know. I may be being a bit intense right now..."

You shook your head softly, smiling amused. "Don't worry, Clark. We don't have to stop. I don't wanna stop. Do you?"

Clark grinned, shaking his head amused too, and obviously still a little nervous. "Good, good..." he mumbled, looking at you directly into your eyes again, then leaned forward and slowly kissed you again.

This guy, the one who turned 18 a few days ago was too nervous, but that that wasn't gonna stop him from caressing your lower belly, or sliding one hand to your nape and putting the other on the couch, gently pushing you now towards the cushions. He crawled on top of you, careful not to put all his weight on you, as you two kept kissing.

Your legs unconsciously opened for him to adjust himself right there, your hands went to his back, one of them caressing his upper back and the other slipping under his white t-shirt, slowly caressing his skin, tearing from his lips a soft whimper.

Suddenly he broke the kiss, he seemed even more nervous now, making you frown a little.

"Hey, you okay?" your question was soft, your voice was it too, as if you were talking to a hurt animal.

"Have you ever done this?" he replied back with another question, chewing his inner cheek.

"Kiss you? Yeah, I've done it before, Clark" you mumbled, smiling shyly, your frown fading from your face.

Oh, you were so cute he could die.

"No, not that" he chuckled, caressing your sides with nervous hands. He swallowed hard. "I meant... it"

The pink color flooded your entire face, making you giggle a little, shaking your head softly. "No, never... you?"

"No, no, no" Clark replied quickly, also shaking his hand. "I... I guess now I'm glad I'm not the only one who's a little lost with this..."

"Hey, it's okay" you said, cupping his cheek with one hand, the other unable to stop caressing his skin. "We... we can figure it out together"

Clark nodded, kissing your jaw softly then. His kisses were still a little shy, but gradually, they became more confident, more rude, more passionate. The hand that was next to you, traveled to your thigh again, moving towards your knee, reaching your calf, ending at your foot and getting rid of your boot, then the other one.

You smiled at him, Clark chuckling softly as he took off your socks, tossing them next to your boots, teasingly biting one of your feet.

"Hey! Don't bite!" you said, pulling your feet away from his mouth, but he pushed hard and grabbed them, pushing them apart and opening your legs again, leaning on you as he caressed your skin slowly and seductively. "Hi" you giggled kissing his lips gently.

"Hi" he replied against your soft lips.

You pulled him tightly against your body, your hands playing with the hem of his t-shirt, lifting it slowly exposing centimeter by centimeter in a fearful but determined manner. He helped you, taking it off of him, leaving his toned torso in your sight, which was caressed by your hands slowly, tasting and memorizing every part of his skin.

"You're really pretty" you blurted out, pressing your hands on his shoulders, pulling him back towards you.

"Oh, God" he whispered, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at your words.

With soft kisses, soft touches and soft whimpers, your hands undressed him and his undressed you, now both in their underwear, Clark scooped you in his arms effortlessly as he managed to sit on the couch to make you straddle his lap. His hands caressed your bare back as he pecked your lips, fingers finding the clasp of your bra nervously, and pulled back a little, his blue eyes searching yours.

"Is it okay if I...? You know..." his voice was soft, accompanied by a coy smile. "Can I take this off?"

You chuckled softly, nodding with your head, mumbling a soft "yes". Kent slowly unclasped your bra, sliding one of the straps of your bra down your shoulder, kissing your skin softly, nipping it, as he uncovered your chest. He moved your hair to the side so he could kiss your neck and collarbones, now enjoying the warmth of your bare skin against his, feeling shivers running down his spine.

"You're pretty too, God, so beautiful" he breathed out, his eyes roaming your torso in awe, enraptured by your naked beauty and purity, your exposed body was a work of art, one that only he could appreciate now. "I could just... I could stare at you all day"

You smiled, cupping his cheeks and gave him an open-mouthed kiss, sighing against his mouth, tongue delving into his.

He whimpered.

Oh, God. It felt like heaven. Your mouth was warm, it was a slight test of what was forbidden, what was kept away from him.

It was glorious.

He kissed you back with the same fucking lust, the same fucking love. His hands tugged the hem of your panties, playing with it until he decided to slide them slowly off your pretty body and leave you all bare to him. His eyes landed on your new exposed area, swallowing hard, feeling his throat and mouth dry and his boxers feeling tight.

"Please..." he whispered, now looking at your face with pleading eyes. "Can I... can I just touch you?"

It was a simple question, but goddamn... he looked at you with those blue eyes as if you were the prettiest thing that has existed on earth —yet he looked a little pathetic, furrowed brow in need, eyes shining, little pout on those red lips from kissing you so much.

He was perfect for you.

"Yes, Clark, you can touch me" you replied softly, feeling your body shudder. "Let me touch you too, baby, please?"

The farmboy nodded, hands going lower, caressing your ass and thighs, gently —and a little unsure— he touched your privates. He wasn't an expert, but he kinda had an idea of how to actually do it. His confidence increased a little when he heard you gasp softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders tightly.

"Clark..." you breathed out, eyes shutting in pleasure.

You pressed your forehead on his shoulder, your legs trying to close at his touch, but he kept them open with his other hand. His fingers with a bruising grip on your thigh, not allowing you to close your gates to Heaven no inch. His touch was gentle and reverent, his hand getting wetter with your sweet arousal.

His kisses and your own touches on his warmth skin made you two end up lying on the couch again —maybe the barn wasn't the better place to do this, but just... hormones blocking any kind of reasoning whatsoever—, his hands reached his jeans, pulling out a condom from his wallet —and maybe not the best place to save one, but hey, at least he had one!.

He was shaky, nervous, and so you were.

For some people, the first time wasn't a big deal, but for both of you it certainly was. It was also special, after almost a year of relationship, this could actually be the moment when your souls and bodies are used in harmony and as perfect puzzle pieces. Something that would mark an important moment for the relationship.

Between giggles, you helped him to roll the condom on his hardness and to aline him on your entrance. He took a shuddering breath, and his gaze moved from your almost connected bodies to your pretty face seeking for doubt, for insecurity, for rejection. His eyes were filled with a mix of desire and... pure fear. He was afraid that you would push him away, that you changed your mind at the last minute, that you think he's not what you want.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice betraying his worst feelings at the moment. "We can-... we can stop, y'know? I wouldn't mind, honestly"

But you weren't dumb. You knew his words came from fear, and you won't let him think that you don't want to do this, that you don't want to give yourself to him. You shook your head, caressing his cheek softly, with a little smile on your face. "I don't wanna stop. I don't want you to stop" you said, almost the same words you said earlier, and they were more than enough to make him feel confident again.

"Let me know if it hurts, yeah?" he asked softly, pressing the tip of his length on your slick folds, nudging your entrance gently. He heard you whimper lowly, shifting your hips a little for him. "Am I hurting you?" Clark stopped his movements, looking at your face.

You shook your head again, taking a deep breath and moving your hands to his back so you could ground yourself.

"On the contrary" you gasped softly. Your chest heaving with your shallow breaths. "Keep going, please..."

The farmboy sighed softly, relieved, and nodded, slowly finishing to push his hips towards yours, burying his cock fully in your warmnes. You both moaned at the sensation, being consumed slowly by the pleasure that was starting to form inside. He gave you a few seconds to adjust yourself to his size, to the intruder who was slowly and deliciously splitting you open.

He peppered kisses on your face as you took your sweet time to get used to him. It was a new sensation, one you could easily get used to. After a few minutes, you moved your hips towards his, indicating that he could start moving now. You knew that, anyway, and despite being patient so as not to hurt you, he was mentally fighting with the primal instinct of thrust into you.

Clark hummed when you moved your hips, the green light to keep going. He pulled back his lips just a little, pushing then gently back inside of you, his breath coming in short gasps as your walls enveloped his cock so good. You gasped softly once more, your nails digging painfully but deliciously on his back, making him groan on your neck.

He thrusted into your soft and warm heat, grabbing one of your hands and pinning it above your head, pulling out from the depths of your throat the most beautiful moans he had ever heard in his life. He rolled his hips slowly, angling them to hit the perfect spot inside of your pussy, making you shudder with pleasure. He whispered sweet nothingsin your ear, his voice, ragged and filled with lust, filled your ears, the exquisite melody that filled your soul.

"Oh, God... don't stop... Clark, don't stop" you whimpered, clenching around his shaft mercilessly. "You're doing it so good... so good..."

Your soft moans and pleas were driving him nuts. His hips picked pace, a little faster now, making the old couch beneath you creak a little. He growled softly, loosing himself in the amazing sensation of your body connected with his. It was beautiful and magical.

It was embarrassing to say that he wasn't going to last long, but could you blame him? He had the prettiest girl ever in his arms, moaning his name and asking for something only he could give you. He pressed his face harder on your neck, nose inhaling your musky scent and a little of your perfume.

"Honey, I... oh God... I think I'm g-gona cum" *he grumbled as his thrusts became more uncoordinated, desperate, your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. He gritted his teeth tightly, his jaw clenched, fighting his release. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

You squeeze his hand above your head, your legs wrapping around his hips and heels digging into his taut ass to push him deeper. His incredibly amazing movements making you see stars behind your eyelids, the orgasm building tight on your lower belly.

"I'm close too... oh, God!" you cried out, feeling on the edge from the orgasmic precipice. The pleasure was immense, your nails digging into his back, unable to contain for much longer that delicious sensation to which you were becoming addicted.

It didn't take long for you two to come, your orgasm finally pushing Clark to reach his —he had really taken it upon himself to make you feel good, like a goddess. Your juices dripped off your core, sliding down your ass and small drops falling on the couch as he emptied himself inside of the condom, his hips still moving trying to prolong a little more the pleasure for both of you.

He wondered to himself why, despite being too strong and being almost incapable of getting tired, he felt exhausted. Maybe it was the effect of your pretty body in display for him. He grinned at the thought of you being able to do that to him.

With some weird effort, he pulled out of you, taking off the condom from his softening cock and tying it, slumping on top of you, his lips finding your pulse point. Your skin tasted like your sweat, not like he cared at all. Your hands caressed his sweaty back, a small smile decorating your face.

"If your mom or dad finds us like this..." you said teasingly, catching your breath.

Clark chuckled, stroking your bare sides. "They'll be fine"

[soleilpinto]

Cruising in Papaya: Behind the Paddock ˚‧｡⋆🍁

“Life’s Better on Saturn ” ˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚ (Saturn, SZA)

Synopsis: Y/N Laurent, a glamorous socialite, meets Lando Norris during a race weekend, sparks fly between the two, but as their feelings deepen, they struggle to balance their secret relationship with their public lives, all while navigating the pressure of the fast-paced F1 scene.

Genre: (Some) Angst, Fluff, Romance

AU: Social Media and Written!au

Pairing: Lando x Afab!Socialite!Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: In all honesty, I hate how I’m already rushing out the chapters one by one, but my final semester is about to start and I have work so I probably won’t have the time to update like this soon. 😭

Cruising in Papaya Masterlist. (Prev./Next.)

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laurant.yn busy busy

flavy.barla 💋

— laurant.yn merci ma chérie !! x (thank you my darling)

alexandrasaintmleux si magnifique 😍 (so gorgeous)

— laurant.yn merci ! x

liked by laurant.yn, kimi.antonelli and 687,073 others

lando My tribute to a hero of mine 🇧🇷

Senna is a true legend of our sport and has inspired not only me but every driver who races today. He's the greatest to ever race around Monaco and I wanted to capture that in this helmet. His iconic design combined with mirrored chrome to reflect the streets he was so great on.

The balmy Monaco air carries the scent of the sea as you sit on the terrace of a chic café, the soft hum of luxury cars passing by blending with the chatter of your friends.

The group is animated as always, a mix of socialites who’ve grown up frequenting glamorous events like the Monaco Grand Prix.

They sip their rosé with practiced elegance, their conversation weaving effortlessly between fashion, parties, and—of course—Formula 1.

“I swear, Charles looked straight at me during the paddock walk last year,” one of your friends gushes, flipping her sunglasses onto her head. “He’s even more gorgeous in person.”

“And don’t get me started on the adrenaline during qualifying,” another chimes in. “There’s nothing like it. Y/N, you must be so excited—it’s your first Monaco Grand Prix, isn’t it?”

You glance up from your glass of sparkling water, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“It is,” you admit, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I wasn’t really into F1 before Miami, but I guess I’ve had a change of heart.”

One of your friends narrows her eyes playfully. “A change of heart? Y/N, you practically rolled your eyes every time we brought it up. What happened?”

The group leans in, curiosity piqued, and you hesitate for a moment, trying to choose your words carefully.

“Well... I’ve been getting to know one of the drivers,” you say casually as if it’s not a big deal.

The table erupts into a chorus of gasps and playful shrieks. “Oh my God!” one of them exclaims, practically spilling her drink. “You’ve been holding out on us! Which driver?”

You laugh, trying to downplay the situation. “It’s not like that. We’ve just been talking a bit. I met him in Miami, and we’ve stayed in touch.”

“Stayed in touch?” another friend teases, raising a perfectly sculpted brow. “Y/N, do you realize how impossible it is for anyone to get paddock passes casually unless they’re very well-connected? And or loaded, like us, and you’re telling me you just ‘talked a bit’? Spill.”

You can feel your cheeks warm under their teasing gazes. “Okay, fine,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Lando invited me. Apparently, I’m one of his ‘special guests’ for the weekend.”

The table explodes in a mix of disbelief and excitement.

“Lando Norris? Are you serious? He’s adorable!” one of them exclaims, while another pulls out her phone to scroll through his Instagram.

“So, that’s why you suddenly care about F1,” someone else teases, her tone light but knowing.

You roll your eyes with a smile. “It’s not like that. He’s... nice, okay? Funny. Easy to talk to.”

“And cute,” another adds, grinning. “Don’t forget cute.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Yes, and cute. But seriously, it’s nothing. He was kind enough to invite me, and I didn’t want to turn down the opportunity to experience Monaco like this. I usually turned you guys down, remember?”

Your friends exchange knowing looks, their smiles mischievous. “Nothing, huh?” one says. “Y/N, you don’t just end up as a ‘special guest’ for no reason. He’s clearly into you.”

You sip your drink, trying to hide your smile.

“Let’s just say I’m keeping an open mind about the whole F1 thing. For now.”

As the conversation shifts back to race predictions and paddock gossip, you glance out at the shimmering Mediterranean, the soft hum of excitement buzzing in the back of your mind.

The weekend hasn’t even started, but something tells you it’s going to be unforgettable.

@MonacoGlamWatch 🚨 Spotted: Y/N Laurant casually strolling through the paddock with her girl squad at the Monaco GP. No PR team in sight, just her and her friends. But why was she later seen in the McLaren garage? 👀

@EliteInsider Y/N Laurant is serving elegance at the Monaco Grand Prix today, but all eyes are on her unexpected appearance in the McLaren garage. No official work, just her and her very fashionable crew. What’s the connection? 🤔

@VelvetScene Y/N Laurant was all smiles in the McLaren garage today, and we’re dying to know why. No cameras, no campaigns—just her and her friends in their chicest outfits. Lando? 👀

@PaddockChic Okay, but why is Y/N Laurant in the McLaren garage with no professional ties and just her friends? She’s not even pretending to hide it. The tea is brewing. 

The Monaco paddock buzzes around you like a hive, the air electric with the chatter of fans, media, and the occasional roar of engines.

You stand with your friends near the McLaren garage, their conversation flowing effortlessly about the latest F1 gossip and weekend plans.

“So, Y/N,” one of them teases, tilting her head slyly. “How does it feel to be the paddock’s new It Girl?”

You roll your eyes, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrays your attempt at nonchalance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” another chimes in, nudging you lightly. “But I saw Lando giving you that look earlier. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“Okay, first of all,” you start, but your voice trails off as you notice a McLaren team member motioning subtly in your direction.

“You’re excusing yourself, aren’t you?” one of your friends guesses, her grin wide.

You sigh, smoothing down your outfit. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” another quips, her smirk far too knowing. “We’ll just be here... observing.”

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping as you turn and walk toward the motorhome.

Once inside, the hum of the paddock fades into the background, replaced by the cool quiet of the space. You spot Lando almost immediately, leaning casually against the counter, his water bottle in hand.

He’s dressed down compared to the chaos outside—team polo slightly rumpled, sneakers tapping lightly against the floor—but somehow, he looks even more at ease.

“Hey,” he greets, his smile lighting up as he sees you. “Surprised you made it through the crowd in one piece.”

You chuckle, walking over to him. “Barely. It’s chaos out there. I don’t know how you deal with it.”

“Years of practice,” he replies, pushing off the counter and gesturing toward the couch. “Come on, sit. You look like you could use a break.”

You settle onto the plush cushions, smoothing your skirt as he sits across from you.

“So,” he starts, leaning forward slightly, “what do you think of your second paddock experience?”

You tilt your head, considering.

“It’s... overwhelming, but in a good way. The energy here is incredible.”

“And the constant cameras?” he asks, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

You groan, dropping your head back against the couch.

“Don’t even get me started. I’ve never had so many people try to take my picture. It’s like they’re waiting for me to trip or spill coffee or something.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Welcome to my life.”

“Yeah, but you’re used to it,” you counter, sitting up again.

“You’re Lando Norris. People are obsessed with you.”

He shrugs, his grin softening.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not annoying. Especially when they start making stuff up.”

“Tell me about it,” you sigh. “People are already speculating about why I’m here, and it’s barely been a day. Gossip accounts are relentless.”

Lando leans back, his gaze flicking briefly to the window where the paddock chaos is visible.

“They don’t even need a reason. One picture, and suddenly I’m marrying someone I’ve barely spoken to. It’s ridiculous.” You nod, fiddling with the edge of a pillow.

“Or they’re claiming you’ve got some secret feud going on. I can’t even go to lunch without it becoming a thing.”

He grins, leaning in slightly. “Feuds and engagements? You’re really living the high life.”

“You’re impossible.” You laugh, nudging his knee lightly.

“Maybe,” he says, his tone lighter now. “But honestly, it’s nice having you here. Even with all the noise, you make it easier to ignore.”

You glance at him, catching the sincerity in his expression. His blue-green eyes hold yours for a moment, and there’s a warmth there that makes your chest tighten in the best way.

“Thanks,” you say softly. “It’s nice having someone who understands what it’s like.”

He nods, his smile small but genuine. “It’s not easy, but... I think it’s worth it.”

Before you can respond, a faint knock on the door reminds you of the world waiting just outside.

“Looks like our quiet time is up,” you say, standing and smoothing down your outfit.

Lando rises too, his grin returning. “For now. But hey, maybe we’ll give them something to really talk about.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you open the door, the noise of the paddock rushing back in. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he teases, his voice light but his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary.

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes and others

laurant.yn monaco with a twist

iamrebeccad 😍

lettiemng obsessedd

littlefoxhermes i smell a new motorsport fan

The low hum of the McLaren 720S fills the quiet Monaco streets, its sleek curves illuminated by the city’s golden glow.

Lando waits outside your building, casually leaning against the car, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other fiddling with his phone. When he looks up and sees you, a soft smile spreads across his face.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice warm. “Hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.”

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Not at all. Midnight drives with F1 drivers aren’t exactly a regular thing for me, though.”

He chuckles, opening the passenger door for you. “Well, let’s change that.”

You slide into the car, the luxurious leather seats cradling you as he closes the door and rounds to the driver’s side. The engine purrs to life, the sound deep and resonant.

As he pulls out onto the winding roads, the city stretches out below you, the harbor glittering like a sea of stars.

For a while, neither of you speaks, content to let the drive and the scenery fill the silence. But eventually, Lando breaks it.

“So,” he begins, glancing over at you briefly before focusing back on the road. “How are you feeling about all... this?”

You furrow your brows, though his tone makes it clear he doesn’t mean the drive. “About what, exactly?”

“Us,” he says simply, the word hanging in the air between you. “Whatever this is.”

You lean back in your seat, your gaze drifting to the passing lights.

“Honestly? I don’t know yet. It’s... different. But not in a bad way.”

“Different is good,” he agrees, his voice thoughtful.

“I just—” He pauses, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “I don’t want to rush this. Or put unnecessary pressure on it.”

You turn to look at him, your expression softening. “Me neither. I think... it’s okay to take our time. To figure out what this is without trying to label it right away.”

He nods, his lips curving into a small, appreciative smile.

“Exactly. I like spending time with you. A lot. But the media, the expectations—it can mess with things if we let it.”

“Then we don’t let it,” you say simply. “We keep it between us, no labels, no pressure. Just... whatever feels right.”

He glances at you again, his gaze lingering this time. “You’re surprisingly good at making things simple.”

“Maybe it’s you who complicates things, Norris.” You laugh softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

He grins, the tension in the car easing. “Touché.”

The car slows as he pulls into a quiet overlook, the harbor stretching out below like a postcard. He parks and leans back, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel as he looks at you.

“For the record,” he says, his tone light but sincere, “I like this. Whatever it is. I want to see where it goes.”

You smile, warmth spreading through you at his words. “Me too.”

For a moment, the world outside the car fades away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble. No cameras, no fans, no expectations—just a boy and a girl, exploring something new and uncharted.

“Alright,” he says finally, starting the engine again. “No labels, no drama. Just us.”

“Just us,” you echo, leaning back in your seat as the car glides back onto the road.

The drive continues, the conversation light but tinged with the promise of something deeper. Neither of you knows exactly where this road will lead, but for now, the journey feels enough.

© soleilpinto 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

Taglist: @bakingpiastries @linnygirl09

[calamaroo]

Dashi Masina Dachshund & Kwazii J. Rackham III Redesigns ====================

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE I LOVE THIS DUO SO MUCH, THEY ARE SUCH AN UNDERATED DUO

DASHI : For Dashi's redesign, I wanted more red-leaning hues to better match the pink skirt of her uniform. Her hair was a struggle, and her entire design tbh. I've always loved Dashi and her character, so making a design for her that I like has always been kind of intimidating. I know it's not at all close to canon, but I don't mind all that much. She's gorgeous, and I love her. Once/If I ever get around to doing a full body of her, it'll look more accurate.

Anywho, the hair is my favorite part of Dashi ( along with her dimples, eeee X3 ) I've always adored the creative ways people have done her hair, and all the absolute drop des gorgeous inspiration pictures I see all over Pinterest. Her design is very self indulgent, but alas, I do not care. She's my favorite girl boss so I get to make her even more pretty. (It's a show of affection)

@hers-underwraps How do you like it #1 dashi fan queen? 👉👈

KWAZII : For Kwazii, I wanted to add more dark colors to better match his grandad (Calico Jack). My redesign was inspired by @oatzimir and how he (and others) gave Kwazii dark accents here and there.

Also, I gave him my signature facial/forehead fur to show off the fact I think he'd be more in tune to his animal side. Because yes ✨️✨️✨️🤎

These two have always been a particular struggle for me to design, as you've seen through their frequent changes. But I had a good art day yesterday, so I'm very proud of these. I hat making full bodies (because my anatomy is shit), so headshots are all I can offer. I hope another good art day comes around soon so I can draw the others like this, I'm extremely proud of this piece 💪

====================

Their designs are very self-indulgent. They are so attractive to me 🫣 I definitely did that on purpose, and I am not ashamed to admit it 🤭

@animalsalvationassociation hiiiiii tehehehehe

[aninipanin1]

omg omg lavinho and adult manager reader where theyve previously met at a club/party outside of blue lock where lavinho tried to hit on one of reader's friends lol

IT'S YOU!

Notes: Ya'll are cooking with the ideas lmaoooo, (F/n) stands for friend name.

"C'mon, Y/n! You'll be back in that prison/asylum in like two days! Live a little and have fun!" (F/n) cheered, hands attached to her wrist as she dragged you inside the establishment she had been raving about to you, both in texts and conversations.

Garbed in a (f/c) sequined cocktail dress and a two-inch pair of heels, you can say you dressed up pretty well tonight. Although, you wish that you were on your bed instead under the flashing lights and banging music of the bar.

Your job in the Blue Lock facility was nothing less than stressful, and since everyone, including you, was given a 2 week break after Blue Lock's win against the U-20 National players, you wasted no time in spending the days just catching up on your naps and tv shows.

If you weren't doing normal household chores or watching on your phone, you were dozing off to sleep. But whatever you did in the past week and a half was inside the premises of your house only.

That is why you were here now. Dragged by your friend who insisted that there were other ways to destress than just sleeping like a sloth or watch anime.

"Ugh, a drink is the farthest thing in my mind right now, (F/n). I want to nap when I still have the chance to. You know how busy I get in the Blue Lock facility. I legit, sleep at like 4 AM only to wake up at 6 AM at times."

She sighed before patting your back and running her hand up and down your arm.

"I know. But, you need a bit of socialization. C'mon!"

(F/n) cheered, giving you a glass of whatever drink she ordered for the both of you as she chugged 3 glasses straight, which impressed you. She has always been quite outgoing and friendly, a little opposite to your quiet and almost shy nature. So, you always found yourself dragged by her in things you normally would be too shy to do.

And that included dancing in the middle of the damn dancefloor in which she was doing now, and even dragging you with her.

"Woah, woah, woah! Hey! You know I don't dance, especially not infront of-" you protested, but she only laughed and held your arms, dancing with you, her platform heels clacking against the tiled floor.

"Loosen up, girl! No one is watching you anyways, theyre all having too much of a good time to notice!"

And there she went again, moving her hips and arms to the music as you just smiled at her. Even if you didn't feel that comfortable with some of her shenanigans, you know she always means well. And besides, she makes the shameless in you jump out of the curtains at times.

You wished those moments came now, but the crowdedness and strong smell of alcohol from the many people made you quite restricted and stuck, so you just stood there, moving your feet a bit, but not dancing too hard. You stayed there mainly because you wanted to make sure that (F/n) was safe and won't get hurt or taken advantage of any ill-willed people in the crowded space.

Were you too protective of her at times? Yes, but you cared about (F/n), and wished that no peril will ever come her way, so you always make sure you were there in times where her immature and guillable nature strikes.

You both were on that dance floor for who knows how long. Songs came and went, and (F/n) was still jamming to whatever Western pop song was playing, and the crowd wasn't thinning either. In fact, it felt more cramped than before, and you were starting to feel a little sick due to how crowded it was.

The heavy smell of alcohol did not help either, as the assorment of the heavy drinks the people on the dancefloor drank mixed within the air. Not finding the strength to tolerate it anymore, you softly tapped your friend's shoulder.

She turned to you, cheeks a bit flushed now due to who knows how many drinks she had. But, you knew she wasn't a lightweight and only had a few drinks, meaning her cognitive is still probably in tact.

"I'm just going to sit in one of the lounges! I'm feeling a bit dizzy. Dance in where I can see you, I don't want us to be separated!"

It was kind of annoying that you had to shout over the music, but you pulled through and she nodded her head before returning her attention to the next song that popped up, especially since you know its a favourite of hers.

"Are you sure you'll be fine, alone? I can join you." She managed to ask before you leave.

"Yeah, I'll be okay. Continue having fun! I don't wanna ruin the night for you!" You gave her a reassuring smile that at first, she did not seem to buy, but after a few looks, she returned to dancing and jamming to the song again as you found yourself walking out of the crowded space into one of the lounges where you see a few people also hanging out on, drinking or busy on their phones.

Sitting on an empty spot with a not-too heavy drink in hand, you always made sure to peek through the dancing crowd to make sure (F/n) didn't wander off or get too out of hand (she can become a bit crazy when drunk), but a message from your mother caught your attention for a few minutes.

By the time you said your goodbye to your mother in the messaging app, you didn't see your friend anymore, which made you blink in a bit of a panic. Mainly because you were worried for her and also, a bit anxious about being alone in the said bar.

After all, you can definitely feel stares boring to your figure, a lot of them from men, of course, and you legit don't know how you will get out in a situation where one of them tries to approach and flirt with you.

Geez, you really need to learn how to reject people you don't want around you, especially guys in these situations.

Craining your neck up, you tried to find where the hell (F/n) went. After a few minutes of copying a giraffe, extending your neck and body posture higher to look, you found your eyes looking at the bar where she was.

She probably got tired from the dancing and ordered a drink to refresh, but she wasn't alone. She was talking to a guy who was quite tall, even if he was sitting down. He had tanned skin, a few tattos across his arms, his blonde hair in some type of mullet, and he looked to be the same age range as you and (F/n).

He seemed almost familiar. His face, his build, his many features...it felt like deja vu, really. You felt like you've seen him somewhere, somehow before. You tried to remind yourself where, but it just won't come up to mind. Like the answer was under a blanket, sillhouette shown to give a clue, yet what's under still a mystery and the only way to know is to look under the fabric.

But you just shrugged it off, chalking it up to be just some sort of resemblance to someone you saw before. By just the look in (F/n)'s eyes, you can tell that they seem to be hitting it off pretty well. (F/n) had that slanted, dreamy eyes as she listened to whatever the blonde was saying. And the man looked more than happy to talk to her. Well, hopefully it was genuine? Besides, he wouldn't approach her if he wasn't interested in her, right?

You didn't really want to interrupt them. Sure, you were protective, but you were also more than supportive of your friends, and you knew that even if she was clumsy, (F/n) was an adult who can handle herself well. And besides, what if there was indeed a romance brewing between them? You didn't want to intrude or destroy what was slowly forming.

Opening your phone, you opted to send her a small message.

'Hey, (F/n)! Just wanted to tell you that I'll be heading home. Don't wanna interrupt you and your possible Mister Right. Enjoy your time with him, but don't be too trusting and remember to put your guard up when you feel in danger, okay? Stay safe, love yaaa.'

You gave the two one last look and see her laughing at whatever the guy was saying. You rolled your eyes yet a fond smile on your face, knowing that the guy will probably be one of her newest fixations that month that she won't shut up about.

"And! AND! He was just so good with his words! Like, I know he's not Japanese, can't even speak our language. But when he speaks English, oh god! It's too attractive. Oh my god, I am so glad I paid attention to English class!"

You let out a laugh at her squeals, although being mindful not to let out a loud one. You were, after all, in the bus headed to the Blue Lock facility to finally start your job again.

Just as you predicted, (F/n) as absolutely taken by whoever that blonde guy was. As she usually does, she likes people quite easily, either romantic or platonic as long as they fit the so-called 'vibe' for her.

Turns out, the guy was actually Brazillian and lives in Spain, but he was just here in Japan for some sort of 'work,' that he had.

"I remember asking him about what he do and he answered, but geez...the hangover took over my brain more than his answer. I feel so disappointed! I didn't even get to ask him for his number!!"

"Well, that sucks. But, hey, if it's meant to be, then it's meant to be, right? I'm sure fate will make you two meet again, one way or another."

Oh, if only you knew how you were both so right yet so wrong at that moment.

"I got it, Ego-san! Have a nice day!"

You smiled before exiting Ego's office, stacks of paper in hand. It was all full of information about each stratum's players. Such as health concerns and history for the clinic, stats for the editors to edit on the episodes of Blue Lock TV, hell, even some preferences they might like for you to cater to them! (You didn't have to do that, but you still did since you are a people pleaser, shush)

Looking down at the newer schedules around the place, you knew you had to make a new timetable for yourself and the players to allow the Neo-Egoist League matches to shine and be given time in certain days while still taking to account the usual things done around the facility.

Too focused on brainstorming ideas, you did not see someone walking past you in time and accidentally nidged your shoulders against theirs. The papers fell to the ground due to the pack of support, the flicking noises of the material panicking you a bit since there were so many of them, and now they're all scattered on the floor.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking!"

"Está bien, yo también lo siento, bonita." The man let out an amused yet deep chuckle.

Blinking at the unfamilliar language, you suddenly remembered the earpiece Anri gave you, given by the Mikage Corps to help with the language barrier between the foreign players and the Japanese ones.

Taking them from your pocket before putting them on in your ear, you finally turned your head to face the person you bumped into, and the familiarity of him couldn't make you stop the visceral reaction to speak.

"It's you...from the bar!"

You gasped before covering your mouth, now feeling a huge wave of embarrassment. The blonde hair, the tanned skin with tattoos, the grin, it was familiar. That was why he seemed so familiar.

The man your friend was with that night was Lavinho, the so-called 'Dancer' due to his creative dribbling on the field, like he was dancing, with the ball as his dancing prop.

You felt so stupid. Why did you not recognise him so easily when you have watched some of his games online before? Meanwhile, Lavinho seemed confused by what your outburst meant.

"Oh uh, sorry...I just...I saw you in a bar, like 2 days ago..."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, you were talking to my friend..."

"Oh, her? (F/n), right? Yeah, I remember her. Heh, she was really pretty. But, I didn't know she had a fine friend as well." He said, a mischievous grin on his face as he helped you pick up the paperworks on the ground.

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, eyes slanted in suspicion.

'This guy...I'm glad (F/n) didn't get his number, he seems like a loose guy.'

"Thank you...? Um, thank you for helping me."

"No problem. Glad to help a beautiful woman."

'Yeah, okay...he is THAT type of guy.'

You gave a smile, one that is not so genuine yet you did not want to be rude to him, since he was visitor from a foreign country and who knows if there was a camera in the halls watching you both.

"How else may I help you, Lavinho-san?"

"Oh, maybe you can help me with this!"

He turned a bit more serious as he showed whatever training schedule the Blue Lockers themselves created for themselves (since Lavinho was a master who preferred the players make it since they know their own strength and individuality), reading the tables and messy handwriting of what the players thought they wanted or needed in their training, you just nodded at some of them.

"Hmm, these are really good! I'll recommend some things though to make it better."

You were recommending different suggestions, pointing things out with a softer and kinder tone, and entertaining any ideas or questions from him. Smiling wider as more questions pass, enjoying the challenge and widening your knowledge on the sports.

Meanwhile, Lavinho found himself enjoying his time with you. Throwing ideas back and forth, hell, he was even a little bit closer to your body now, wanting to make sure he heard you better. His movement towards your figure unintentional, like a magnetic force was dragging him to you.

But why? He didn't know. All he knew was that you were an interesting person to talk to, especially when it came to the sport he was very passionate about.

'She's not just fine, but smart and individualistic too, huh?'

ADDITIONAL TIME!

Otoya: Which type do you want-

Lavinho: Preferably a woman who is (height), has (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes, likes (color), is smart, responsible, beautiful, and is a manager of the Blue Lock Facility.

Hayate: That's just Y/n-san.

Lavinho: Exactly.

Bachira: *Already prepared to pounce*

Otoya: I meant what type of workout we should do today, old man.

This was longer than it should be lol

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[babyseraphim]

2024 Writing Year In Review

tagged by @nix-nihili thank you!! This all starts in May because I was not writing before then 😅 I've written over 150k words for this fandom this year and every second has truly been a joy

May

The Case of the Selkie's Skin - Dead Boy Detectives

“Your book,” Charles mumbles brokenly, teeth chattering. “The water–” “I do not care about the book,” Edwin replies shortly, taking his own overcoat and placing it over the top of Charles’ jacket. Charles reaches for the book anyway, attempting to move it out of the water’s reach. “Damn the book!” Edwin snaps, snatching it from Charles’ hands and tossing it to the far side of the dock. He grips Charles’ shoulders tightly and looks him directly in his eyes, pupils blown wide with poorly-concealed panic. Charles freezes in place, the heavy feeling of guilt and misplaced shame clawing in his chest like a feral animal.  “Charles, I would have never allowed you to search for Riosh’s skin if I had known you were unable to swim,” Edwin says shakily, gripping his shoulders a little tighter. “You should have told me!”

June

By Lantern's Light - Dead Boy Detectives

Instead, there is Crystal, holding the blessed lantern aloft. The light halos her curly hair, and for a moment, Edwin’s mind wanders back to the various Saints he had learned about in Catholic school.  “He’s gone,” she says softly, wiping what looks like blood off of her hands and onto her jeans. “And I swear to Christ, I’m never letting either of you out of my goddamn sight again.” Edwin looks at her, more than a little awestruck, before burying his face in Charles’ shoulder. “Thank you,” he says quietly, though loud enough for all three of them to hear. “Both of you.”

July

Overloaded - Dead Boy Detectives

“This has happened before, then?” Charles asked. “Today was the first time I have experienced anything of this severity.” Crystal cleared her throat, giving Edwin a pointed look. He shrunk in on himself further, wishing he could phase through the floor and avoid this conversation entirely. “This was the first seizure I have had,” he clarified, “but I have been in near constant pain since our last encounter with Esther. We believe my ailment may somehow be tied to her energy harvesting machine.” A long silence stretched between the three of them, pulled taut across the room like a funeral shroud. Edwin couldn’t bear to look at either of them. “Bloody hell,” Charles said quietly. “You’ve been in pain all this time?” 

August

foolish flame - Dead Boy Detectives

The wisp obviously didn’t reply, but instead moved to float above Charles’s bag-of-tricks. “Put something in there, did you?” Charles asked. He racked his brain for anything that Edwin had handed him earlier that day. Charles had put in a jar of pennies, two lengths of rope, a canoe oar, a packet of sea monkeys, a magic pocket watch that changed to match the timezone, a keyring full of keys with no locks to match… had Edwin handed him anything at all? Finally, he snapped his fingers in recognition, a memory coming to him. A book, with frayed edges and a dark pink cover. “Of course it's a book,” he said, reaching into his pack. “It’s always a bloody book with you.”

September

dye it all, rosary - Dead Boy Detectives

“Alright, love?” Charles asked, after giving Edwin a moment to come back to himself. Edwin’s body trembled slightly, as if he were vibrating. “Yes, Charles,” Edwin said, voice still muffled by Charles’s shoulder. “I’m alright.” Charles hummed. “It’s okay if you’re not, you know.” Edwin was silent a moment longer, contemplating his response. He sniffled, and when he spoke, his voice cracked with grief. “I’m afraid not to be.” Charles kissed his temple. “I’m here to stay, even if you aren’t,” he said, tracing his fingers down Edwin’s spine. “I promise.” “I know,” Edwin said quietly.

October

my healing needed more than time - Dead Boy Detectives

Edwin squeezed his shoulder a bit tighter, pulling him from his thoughts. “Charles,” he said patiently. “Do you understand?” Right. If he was afraid, he was supposed to tell Edwin. Edwin didn’t mind. Edwin wouldn’t hurt him. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess.” Edwin smiled approvingly and sat on the floor, crossing his legs beneath him. “You can sit with me, if you’d like. There’s no obligation, of course, but—” Charles clambered into his lap without question, settling his back against Edwin’s chest. Edwin wrapped his arms around his middle and rested a cheek atop his head, letting out a soft sigh.  An unfamiliar warmth bloomed in Charles’s chest, delicate and wanting. He had never felt so safe in his entire life.

November

my healing needed more than time - Dead Boy Detectives

Edwin squeezed him tightly in response, letting their conversation fade into a long, comfortable silence. He focused intently on slowing his breathing, counting each inhale like his Charles had taught him to do.  Eventually, the phantom burn in his chest faded, leaving a spreading pool of warmth in its place. Charles looked up as Edwin’s desperate hold on him began to loosen. “Is it working?” Edwin blinked. “I’m sorry?” “The cuddle. Do you feel better?” A small smile tugged at Edwin’s lips. He had thought that Charles’s sudden plea for affection had been driven by a childish need for comfort, but no. He’d done it solely for Edwin’s benefit. “I feel much better,” Edwin murmured, dropping a quick kiss on the top of his head. “Thank you.”

December

my healing needed more than time - Dead Boy Detectives

Charles held the cat up between them, comparing it side-by-side with Edwin. “Looks a bit like you, doesn’t it? With the bowtie, and the eyes?” Edwin gave a fond huff. “As far as I can recall, my eyes are green, not bright, electric blue.” “They look a bit blue to me,” said Charles, running the cat’s tail between his fingers. “Like the sea after it rains, I guess. Or the sky in the morning, right before the sun comes up.”  “Oh,” was all Edwin said in response. His blue-green eyes went a little shiny, then, and it really was like Charles was staring into the sea.

I tag: @many-gay-magpies, @emryses, @deadtwinksdetectiveagency, and whoever else wants to get involved!

[arashway]

AISH. He's only saying that because he hadn't seen her wield it. What was the last thing she had accidentally burned? Ah, yes, the tiny, but very ancient grove of ash trees right at the border of Autumn - & is now banned to ever setting foot in the woods without wearing protective gloves that stopped her from accidentally incinerating everything if she gets a little pissed.

"Might comes from skill & I am just raw talent without a form. If it ever came to a battle, I would be more of a liability than an asset." she spoke. It wasn't really a secret, so she didn't care how it painted her - she did not care if it made her weak or an easy target.

if it came to it, she could burn the Dusk to cinders.

Oh, well she didn't expect that! It was a very welcome step from the ordinary, from the expected - if anything, she has heard many horror tales about fae who glanced at Illyrian wings the wrong way & here he was, allowing her to inspect one.

from a distance, of course.

But, it was an opportunity rarely presented, so she was quick to turn a leaf in her notebook, dedicating it solely for the sketches of his wing - the way is caught light, the miniature veins barely trembling with the flow of blood ( so they were well circulated. interesting. not like the Peregryns. ), the density & lightness of the... batlike texture.

interesting.

It wasn't as scaly as a dragon's, but smooth as a bat's, though there were similarities in shape & size between the two. But, he kept speaking & she allowed her focus to shift between sketching & chuckling at his remarks.

"If it's any consolation, ships are made to weather storms & they sink more often than they survive. So, I'd say you're doing pretty well. Then again, you are lighter than a frigate, unless your bones are made of steel. Though I suspect that would just be impractical. Not to mention weird. I doubt even the Cauldron Made have bones of iron, though one of them would certainly like me to believe that." Ara chuckled, then shut her sketchbook ; "All done!"

"So, is it ture all Illyrians just have goo-goo eyes for combats & battlefields, or do you happen to enjoy something mundane as well? I, personally, am very fond of stuffed animals, I have this light purple dragon plushie I made when I was bored one day & I'm still very partial to it." she chuckled.

"Just don't tell my cousin that. He already thinks I'm unserious enough as it is."

𝔞𝔫 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔯 is one aware of his own weaknesses, and fire is vyros'. but the general considers her self-deprecating barb with a throaty chuckle rather than a step backward. though he has no plans to reveal his underbelly so quickly to anyone, he is, at the very least, honest in his response. as he speaks, he hoists himself in a swift lunge over the railing that marks the ring's boundary and moves towards her. ever-aware of his size, he does so slowly, feeling like a wolf spiraling around a little fawn.

❝ fire can cause more destruction than a skilled swordsman; his reach is only so long as his blade. fire, on the other hand, is its own master once it catches — making ash of ancient forests, scorching harvests, collapsing castles. if you wield it, you are mightier than you let on. ❞

an ardent listener, he tilts his head to the side and allows her to explain her motive, learning more about peregryns than he's ever committed to on his own. while he isn't one to exalt the knowledge of scribes and scholars, he understands their purpose — curious, as they are, to unravel the whole world down to its particulates. instead, he prefers older wisdom: the kind that comes from hardship, the kind that lives in ancestral knowledge: the way wolves signal and deer step lightly. the pull of the moon on the insurgent seas.

❝ i, personally, prefer the world to maintain an air of mystery, but you've won me over, ❞ he mutters. he knees for her, artfully extending one bat-like wing outward so that she might inspect it, sketch it, understand it in her way, to her purpose.

❝ i doubt there is much in nature that is completely waterproof, but my wings are resistant to it, ❞ he offers idly, amber eyes looking up through the limbs of the tree under which they are sat. ❝ i can fly in most weather, though navigating extreme conditions expends more effort. our wings are just as susceptible to the cold and rain as the rest of our bodies. perhaps moreso. ❞

[puddleglum-draws]

Most trans people have incredible and interesting transition goals. My goblin brain has decided it wants me to be a basic ass autistic white man (Yes I know Columbo is Italian but he is a pseudo outlier here).

Like why. I love it tho. Default settings of a man. I just want to be a kept and predictably dressed guy. Dear goodness the autism is strong here but still. I’m a white passing Latino but my brain says well you kinda look like that so white man it is.

[untitledgoosegay]

re last reblog I do see fanfic culture pushing/replicating a certain model of "what trauma looks like," "how trauma works"

this is a problem across all areas of society obviously, but transformative works are, well, transformative. they're about crafting and modifying narratives where the fan-creator sees a flaw or a lack -- often for the better! don't get me wrong, I've done my fair share of "I take a hammer and I fix the canon," it's the main thing that gets my creative gears spinning -- but what happens when that "flaw" is simply a narrative not conforming to popular expectations?

some people just don't get PTSD from events that sound obviously traumatic. they're not masking, and they're not coping; they just straight-up didn't get the permanently-locked stress-response that defines PTSD. they walk away from a horrible experience going "well, that sucked, but it's over now." some people do get PTSD from events most people wouldn't find traumatic. we don't really know why some people get PTSD and others don't. but fandom has an idea of events that must be traumatizing, of a "correct" way to portray trauma. you see the problems with this lack of understanding in e.g. fans pressuring the devs of Baldur's Gate 3 to add dialogue where the player character badgers Halsin about his own feelings on his abuse -- because he must be traumatized, and his trauma must fit a certain mold and presentation of sexual trauma, under the mistaken impression that anything outside that narrow window is somehow "wrong" and disrespectful or even harmful to survivors.

take, for another example, the very common trope of a traumatized character who hates touch or sex "learning" to like touch or sex as a part of their healing process. certainly that can be healing for some people; other people will never like, or want, touch or sex, because of trauma or because they just don't. the assumption that someone who doesn't want sex or doesn't like to be touched must be traumatized, must be suffering from this perceived lack, is seriously harmful -- to asexual people, to people with sensory issues around touch, and to people for whom healing from trauma means freedom to refuse sex or touch.

and there's a secondary trope, one that's slightly more thoughtful but ultimately repeats the problem -- that once someone has learned that their boundaries will be respected, they'll feel it's safe to soften those boundaries. once they feel safe refusing touch or sex, they'll feel comfortable allowing it on their own terms. but many people don't, and many people won't! many people will simply never want to be touched, and never want sex, and they are not suffering or broken or lacking because of it. the idea that proving you'll respect someone's boundaries entitles you to test those boundaries -- the paradox is obvious, and yet this is something i've seen hurt (re-traumatize) people i care for.

people are imperfect victims. people don't heal in the ways you expect. many people have positive memories of their abuse, of their abusers. many people hurt others in the course of their trauma, in ways that can't easily be unpacked in a 5k oneshot. very few narratives of trauma and recovery actually fit the ones put forward by popular children's media and romance novels -- which are the ones I most see replicated in fandom spaces, because they provide the clearest narrative and easiest catharsis, and so they're easy and soothing to reach for.

that's not necessarily a bad thing! i am not immune to goopy romance tropes. i am not immune to teary catharsis. not every fic has to grapple with ugly realities. but there's a problem when these narratives become predominant, when people think they're accurate and realistic depictions of trauma, when the truth of trauma is unpleasant and uncomfortable, and doesn't fit any single narrative, let alone one of comforting catharsis

[atoriv-art]

older designs for my specialest guy

[all-my-ocs-are-evil]

Grojband, but as a band from an early 2000s shoujo manga

[thret-rhett]

Adam, Eve, and Lilith. they’re my ocs now more lore in tags

[skylertheghost]

When your in that weird age group where your too young to remember more classic internet era memes and old YouTubers like Smosh or whatever, but your also old enough were you weren’t an iPad baby obsessed with skibidi toilet and rainbow friends

Anyway I grew up (sorta? Is grew up the right term?) with Dantdm, game theory, fnaf, undertale, BATIM, little nightmares, cuphead, baldi’s basic, slenderman Roblox games like survive the natural disasters, royale high, bake a cake, epic mini games, minecraft, animal jam, subway surfers, diary of a wimpy kid, Tom gates, 13th story tree house, captain underpants, that dog comic that was made by the same guy as captain underpants, Gacha life, animation memes, vine, ASDFmovie, nyancat, epic face, tattletail, Annoying orange, ALL of the story time animators and a lot more I’m forgetting. Anyway I’m glad I wasn’t a iPad baby lmfao.

[moeblob]

I have fallen down the anime sports hole and landed on Eyeshield 21 and I'm so sorry I'm adopting all these kids.

(I was actually going to like. Hold off posting my silly sports anime doodles until after commissions but no I wanna share them now. It's hard out here being me who thrives off interactions and this show is like "hey what if we gave you lots of interactions and also a secret identity for MORE interactions".)

[b4kuch1n]

fuck it sk8 sketches from da sketchbook. get sk8ed idiot

[sunflowermp4]

karma's gotta come for all of us

i just hope she comes for you first

[takitori67]

More about Magical-Girl Junas (+ Bhima)