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My version of “the swing” featuring Celes, Setzer, and Locke in the shadows. 🤫 Original version (in the last image of this post) by French painter Jean Honore Fragonard (Google it if you want to learn about erotic symbolism in fine art)
what I like best about my version is how Setzer is exactly 1 second away from being beaned in the head by that BOOT 👢 This image originally appeared in the FF6 2024 calendar.
Some of you may be asking, will this be available as a print? The answer is probably no. I have no experience in making and selling prints and I know that learning to make perfect prints at home is a long and involved process. But I thank you for asking anyway ♥️
#doing spoofs of famous works of art is so FUN#it also encouraged me to look closely at the original and learn what I could about color theory#coloring is forever a challenge so I did my best#favorite part is Setzer’s dopey expression#in the original painting the guy in that spot also has a silly face#final fantasy vi#final fantasy 6#the phoenix cave
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Famous Monsters #136 (1977)
#famous monsters#sinbad#sinbad and the eye of the tiger#vintage#film#movie#art#illustration#painting#fantasy#fantasy art#1977#1970s
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Virgil Finlay
#Virgil Finlay#art#artwork#painting#Illustration#cosmic#witch#witchcraft#The Moon Pool#ladys#witches#occult#fantasy#B&W#30's#30s#1939#Famous Fantastic Mysteries
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made some ff7 pokemon teams :]
#there are TONS of cross-team rival or parallel pokemon i've thought a lot about this hjlghkjkhjj#there are the obvious ones like the two lilligants or the spread out ralts line#but for example did you know that escavalier and sirfetch'd are depicted as rivals in a famous painting? teehee. incheresting#final fantasy vii#pokemon#sephiroth technically has 6 pokemon but deoxys joins in and lets him cheat bc jenova#willow whispers
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lyrics are from famous prophets (stars) by car seat headrest
woo more leo and chase because echo project brainrot is very strong. i wanted to try out something different from the way i normally draw and this is what came from it. i wanted the hug to come off as somewhat distant and stiff so i hope it shows. unrelated but i've been wanting to join a discord for echo but i have no idea where to look lol.
version with no text and sketch (also some rambling) below read more
on the left is no text (duh) and right is the doodle that spiraled into a little more than a doodle. this drawing originally came to me while i was listening to skyline to by frank ocean and i just threw down what was in my head and i loved it so much that i decided to put leo and chase in it :). i originally was gonna put the lyrics:
"On comes the evening, gold seeking ends Piece in my hand worth twice than a friend And two limbs over shoulder, carried away"
from skyline to but i feel like the csh lyrics better fit the two of them. i also finished arches and it the horror was so good that it had my stomach churning throughout the whole game. the opening was sickening(in a really good way).
#furry#furry art#furry vn#echo project#digital painting#digital art#art#anthro art#echo vn#leo alvarez#chase hunter#car seat headrest#twin fantasy#famous prophets (stars)
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the death of a’vaya fhey
(click for better quality!!)
#ffxiv#final fantasy 14#warrior of light#minfilia warde#G'raha Tia#a'vaya fhey#wolfilia#minvaya#this is a repaint of a famous painting!#its the death of mark antony with cleopatra at left#'minfilia isnt on the left' well you see i didnt realize the painting was flipped until right as i was about to post it.
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Houses and Figure (1890) by Vincent Van Gogh 🖌️🎨 Claim your free gift in my profile 🎁 #painting #art #drawing #vincentvangogh #vincent #vangogh #houses #figure #man #oilpainting #oilart #oldpainting #oldart #sun #famous #fantasy #green #gift #summer #hot #paintings #artist #artwork #amzing (at USA) https://www.instagram.com/p/CopGNb4PONQ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#painting#art#drawing#vincentvangogh#vincent#vangogh#houses#figure#man#oilpainting#oilart#oldpainting#oldart#sun#famous#fantasy#green#gift#summer#hot#paintings#artist#artwork#amzing
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Selfie? :D
#aesthetic#digital illustration#procreate#art#sketch#illustration#artists on tumblr#artoftheday#artwork#digital painting#portrait#fantasy#my art#orange#oc artwork#oc#oc stuff#oc art#selfiie#famous#character art#original art#my oc art#artistsoninstagram#instalove#instaart#black shirt#fashion#style#art style
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there is an emergence of a particular kind of white woman writer/filmmaker whose work is the equivalent of a long-form pastel instagram infographic at best & clunky self-insert fanfiction in period pieces at worst, which requires an astonishingly narcissistic suspension of disbelief to even get through let alone actively enjoy
it’s particularly prevalent in shows like the marvelous mrs maisel and minx, but i noticed it in promising young woman too (& greta gerwig to an extent but i don’t have time for that discourse rn). it’s this “fuck yeah girl power!” individualist fantasy that as long as a single white heroine rises above & succeeds despite the system, then everybody wins even tho often in the text itself that predicates on benefiting from the oppression of queer people & poc
#you could argue that in promising young woman the protagonist doesn’t even win at all but fennel certainly seems to thing she does lol#also i say self-insert period piece fanfic bc for some reason in SO many of these they insist on including famous people from the time#talk to & praise the white female protagonist like idk maybe keep ur weird validation fantasies from joan didion in the journal next time?#and they ALWAYS deal with other characters’ queerness like such an inconvenience to the MC#marvelous mrs maisel either painting them as villains or straight up ignoring it#minx outright dismissing it
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yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."
i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.
the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.
mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.
later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.
sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.
but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.
i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.
every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.
wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?
the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:
he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.
every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.
mahler's fifth still makes me sick.
give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.
give me back what you took from me.
#nosebleed club#sorry stephen not ur fault#just like. thinking#writeblr#spilled ink#warm up#every time nat is like - oh let me get that for u#im like .... this is a trick right like ur gonna be mean now bc u did something nice rn#so obviously if ur being nice now either u did something mean and im about to learn about it#or you're going to BE mean#or ur gonna hold this over my head forever and i'll never get a nice thing ever again?#and every time nat is like .... babe i just actually like u#lesbian jesus story is 100% real btw. she also told me not to be an event planner#literally changed the shape of my life
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Safe Harbor (Alessia X Singer!R)
Summary: R is a very famous singer at the end of a very long, very crazy tour. Alessia is there to take care of her.
Warmings: Established D/s dynamics. The use of Daddy, and Collars. No smut.
You knew that you were living a dream.
You knew that millions of people would trade everything to be in the position you were in.
They would do anything to have stadiums scream their name and for their songs to play on the radio for the world to hear.
You had been plucked out of obscurity after you unsuspectingly played a bar in Leeds in front of Ed Sheeran when you were 16. A year and a half later you had taken Billboard's Hot 100 by storm, broken the record for most weeks at number one by a new artist… twice, and you were opening for Taylor Swift’s 1989 tour.
That had just been the beginning.
Now you were on your 3rd world tour, selling out stadiums for yourself, with one of the best-selling albums of all time.
It was… crazy that a kid from Maidstone who barely had enough to eat growing up had thousands of people screaming your name every night, singing your lyrics back to you like they were anthems.
Your music was raw, personal. Painfully autobiographical.
Your fans picked apart every lyric, dissecting your words with obsessive precision. The heartbreak, the loss, the fear woven into every track—they clung to it like it was their story, too. Before You Go, Say Something, Thinking Out Loud—each song became a window into your soul. And they were desperate to see more.
It was why your first album had gone platinum overnight, and every album after it had debuted at number 1.
They resonated with your honesty, and that’s what made people fall in love with it.
You had expected that part.
What you hadn’t expected was that they hadn’t just fallen in love with the music—they had fallen in love with you.
The girl with the sunny personality, and the commanding stage presence. The girl who smiled brightly at every meet-and-greet, made them laugh at every interview, and always took time to meet fans, even after long days in the studio or on music video sets. They built you up as their idol, their friend, their fantasy. They flirted with you in meet-and-greets before you were 18 and treated you like you belonged to them. Like they were entitled to every part of you.
At some point, you became an enigma��Y/N Y/L/N, the nine-time Grammy winner. The infallible pop star. The face that was painted on the side of billboards, and smiling in Colgate commercials.
At some point, just Y/n failed to exist to them, and you liked it that way.
You did well to dodge their invasive questions, running interviewers around in circles, and answering fans with witty remarks to avoid answering. And over the years (and through 4 albums), you only got better at preventing the fans from learning anything of substance about your private life. The only glimpses they got were through your music, and you liked to keep it that way.
You did your best to keep it that way.
The only time you let them get close, let the world peek behind the curtain, was during the piano set of your concerts.
It was dubbed the surprise song set by the fans even though 2 of 3 songs never changed. It was where you sang your most emotional songs, and where you let yourself be vulnerable. Open. Real.
Tonight was no different. Or at least, you were trying to convince yourself of that.
You sucked in a long breath, your fingers tracing the black and white keys as the final chords of Bruises echoed through the stadium, curling off the walls and over the crowd. Their energy buzzed around you, rolling like an ocean wave.
You could feel it crashing against your chest, adding to the adrenaline bubbling through your veins.
You took another deep breath, the air catching in your throat as you tried to control your breathing enough so you could talk. So you could give your signature speech before revealing the night's surprise song.
Maybe tonight was different.
You felt more… exposed.
More… vulnerable.
This year was nothing short of a whirlwind. Eighty sold-out shows across the U.S. in the summer, followed by another thirty in Europe and the UK. Three back-to-back number-one singles—no small feat—only knocked from the top spot after 18 weeks by Taylor Swift herself.
It was amazing and incredible and exhausting all rolled together.
You dearly loved your fans, their passion, and their devotion, but you were drained.
Your eyes slid closed, allowing the bone-deep weariness to cut through the buzz from the crowd for just a second as you pulled your fingers from the keys, briefly rubbing the leather braided bracelet around your wrist as you reset for the next song.
It was the closest thing you’d had to your girlfriend's touch in nearly 2 months, and it wasn’t nearly enough. One soft touch from her would make it all melt away.
One touch and she would take away the burden of control that had plagued you since you started the tour.
You would finally be able to let go and just be.
There were only 6 songs left and then you would be with her, your lighthouse on rocky seas. Your anchor on stormy nights.
You took another deep breath.
It was the last show of an incredible year, and you had something very very special planned.
Something no one would see coming.
Your eyes blinked open as the crowd noise dipped, and you painted your signature smirk on your face as you leaned back toward the mic.
“So Wembley, how are we feeling?” You asked into the microphone, smiling widely at the roar from the audience that met you. “Fantastic,”
You brought your fingers to the piano, letting them dance delicately across the keys. They had no particular rhythm, though they were in the key that your surprise song would be in.
You wanted to avoid giving the surprise away yet.
“So you know, I was thinking about what song I was going to play tonight, trying to figure out which one would be the perfect end to such an amazing tour,” You couldn’t help the little laugh that left you as the audience got impossibly louder, cheering out an indistinguishable mix of song titles that you had yet to play on this tour. You paused for a long second, feeling their cheers only grow, popping your in-ear monitor out for effect.
It was endearing really, how into it they got (especially when you found out that they had created an entire fantasy league about what version of your outfits you would wear and what songs you would sing). They made it easy to pretend like you were having the time of your life instead of fantasizing about what you would be doing in 40 minutes.
You shook your head, popping the monitor back into your ear and your fingers returning to the keys, letting their chants fill you up, and drive you forward.
“And I was talking to one of my favorite people,” You continued, starting to pick out a tune that was a bit closer to the song you were going to play. “Now you all know I don’t normally take requests, but this being the final night of the Eclipse World Tour, and with such special guests in the audience I couldn’t quite say no,”
Your eyes instinctually found Alessia as you hit the opening chord, and though you could see her expression you could feel her gaze burning into you.
Seeing through you.
Even surrounded by people, her attention was the only one you craved.
“It’s a song I haven’t played for a long time, so I’m going to need your help.” You continued, Never breaking eye contact with her. “Will you help me tonight Wembley?”
The crowd roared in approval, and goosebumps erupted on your skin at the sheer energy they projected at you. It filled your chest and fueled your fingers as you finally hit the signature piano riff that opened the song.
You flashed the crowd your signature smirk, all essence of yourself slipping beneath your on-stage persona.
And when you opened your mouth to sing the first line; it felt easy. It felt right.
Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands
Closed your eyes and trusted
Just trusted
*****
Watching you perform was magic.
It had always been magic.
Whether it was a show in Wembley in front of 100,000 people, or one when you were small with a guitar the same size as you, Alessia had always been mesmerized by you. Even before the two of you were old enough to put names to what you were feeling.
It didn’t matter that she had seen you play thousands (hundreds of thousands) of times, nor that this was not her first time attending one of the shows on this tour.
She leaned forward on the barricade separating the VIP tent from the Floor sections as you began to play the piano break.
“She’s incredible,” Leah said, leaning closer to Alessia to be heard above the crowd. “They’re eating out of the palm of her hand,”
Alessia hummed. “She is,”
The audience was glued to every move, every breath you took on stage. She was too, and so were all of her teammates.
What made it even better was that you were hers, and she got to enjoy you from her favorite seat in the house.
They hadn’t originally been slated to be in the VIP tent.
Viv had organized the tickets, picking an area on the 2nd balcony because they were the only ones left. Alessia had gone along with it, only mentioning to you that 800$ was crazy for a 2nd tier balcony ticket in passing.
You had sleepily agreed, cursing Ticketmaster and reminding Alessia of the 10-hour meetings you had endured when your fans crashed the site during pre-sale. You hadn’t said anything about it since, so she assumed you had forgotten.
You did not forget.
There had been a team waiting to escort them when they arrived, and you had made sure the tent was loaded with all of their favorites. You had also refunded the tickets, and given them away to 23 fans outside of the stadium.
You liked to do things for her. It was a way for you to serve her even from a distance, and she enjoyed telling you how good you were afterward.
She definitely had plans to do that tonight.
She leaned forward on the barrier as you got to the final chorus.
There was a reason this spot was always her favorite to watch the show from, and why she had been hesitant when they escorted her and her friends to the tent.
They were close to the stage. Close enough that Alessia could see the cracks in your carefully crafted facade.
She could see the dark circles under your eyes, and how your smile never met your eyes. She could see the slight curl of your shoulders, and how you kept twisting your bracelet tightly around your wrist.
She could see the command you had of the crowd wearing on you, and just how in your head you were.
All of her instincts told her to protect you. To wrap you up, and take the reigns so you could just exist without thinking. So you could submit and know that she would take care of you.
And sure, her teammates had caught glimpses of the dynamic between the two of you, but you both liked to keep the heavier aspects to yourselves.
It was harder for her to do that when she had watched the toll this tour had taken on you, and knew just how close you were to being able to let go.
“Is it just me or does she look shattered,” Katie asked as the song came to an end, the final note ringing around the stadium as your eyes once again closed and you sucked in air through your nose.
Alessia didn’t take her eyes away from you. “Not just you,”
She followed the rapid rise and fall of your chest, and how your fingers silently fluttered over the keys before you began to play again.
“She’s barely slept at all this week because of end-of-tour meetings,” Alessia continued as you began picking out a new tune. “And she’s been co-producing an album that comes out next month, so she’s barely had time to think, much less do anything else.”
Leah hummed from her other side. “I’m just surprised you haven’t stepped in yet.”
Alessia made a low sound in the back of her throat.
It was… complicated.
While Alessia had rules that you followed (even while you were on tour) to help protect both your physical and mental health, you both had boundaries when it came to your careers.
She understood that you had responsibilities and that sometimes you had to prioritize work to make everything run smoothly. (She also secretly relished watching you in boss mode, knowing that you would be kneeling at her feet later.)
The agreement you had was that she would only interfere under 2 conditions. First, if you crossed the Limits the two of you had agreed upon years ago without communicating with Alessia first. Second, if you asked.
“Tonight I will,” Alessia said as your eyes opened and you leaned back towards the microphone, your fingers dancing along the keys.
“Since we have the incredible women of Arsenal in the audience tonight, I think there’s one more song we have to do before continuing the show,”
The audience roared in response.
Your smile was charming, even as your eyes danced vacantly across the screaming fans in the pit next to the small stage that held your piano.
Alessia could imagine the edits that would be online later, the people swearing that your expression was solely meant for them. They would think the way you twisted your bracelet was to show them how much you liked the copies they wore.
She shook her head.
The chords under your fingers changed, shifting into another familiar tune.
North London Forever
Whatever the Weather
You pulled back from the microphone, tilting your head to the sky as the fans picked up the song all around you.
The stage lights swelled around you, illuminating the crowd as they sang for you. Your fingers deftly played the background music for the song.
She could understand why it was a tradition for you. Why you always added North London Forever to the last show of your tours, especially when you ended in London.
And my heart will leave you never
My blood will forever
Goosebumps erupted on her skin as the crowd of 100,000 sang the rest of the chorus, and pride swelled in her chest, replacing her worry for just a moment.
You wouldn’t have done a sing along if you were too far gone.
Your relationship was built on trust, and Alessia trusted that you were ok for now. She would step in when the show was over, and you were ready.
****
“Thank you London,”
The final notes of Shut Up and Dance pounded through the stadium.
You held your arms out wide, as if to physically soak in their cheers as the stage lights dimmed, leaving only one shining against your back, silhouetting you for the audience In a perfect replica of your album cover. Then everything went dark, and the platform you had been standing on lowered so you were under the stage.
“Great show Y/n,” Your tour manager, Aubrey, said as you stepped off the lift, the crowd noise barely fading.
You nodded in response, your tongue suddenly feeling too heavy in your mouth to form words. it felt like you were trying to think through an old television with terrible reception, the images staticy and broken. Fatigue settled into your bones, heavy and cold.
A soft robe was draped over your shoulders by one of the production crew, and you twisted the bracelet around your wrist until the edges cut into your skin.
You focused on the pain, letting it ground you as you put one foot in front of the other and allowed your team to guide you from beneath the stage.
your security team flanked you the second you were out from under the stage, acting like a protective wall.
“You need to rehydrate.” Steve, your head of security said, pressing a blue Gatorade into your fingers.
They instinctively closed around the bottle, and Steve nudged you again to get you to bring it to your lips.
“Small sips kid,” Clint added from your other side, as the third member of your security team, Natasha, made eye contact with Steve
You tried to follow their directions, but your hands were shaking so badly you almost dropped the drink.
You felt Powerful.
You felt… floaty.
It was so… weird. It usually took you hours to come down from the high of a show, and devolve into… whatever this was.
To finally give in and call your girlfriend for help.
You had been… reluctant to bother her in the last few weeks.
She had been busy with international friendlies, and you didn’t exactly like exploring your dynamic while you were separated.
Dropping into sub space was hard for you on a good day, guided by Alessia‘s firm but comforting presence. Doing it while the two of you were doing long distance was a painful impossibility.
The few times it had actually worked were misery for you. Like your brain was made of broken glass and no one was there to help you knit the fractured shards back together.
Even with her voice on the other end of a video call, it had been brutal.
You had put it off, and put it off, and now it seemed that your body wasn’t going to give you a choice.
“I’ll be back.” Natasha said, turning on her heel as Steve shifted to shield you from the people buzzing around backstage.
You didn’t even acknowledge her, blinking slowly as cling helped you bring the bottle of Gatorade to your lips.
“Take deep breaths.” Clint said gently. “We have to get to the tunnel.”
You tried, but it was like you were under water, or sucking air through a straw.
You were crashing, and you still had to face the public one last time before you could let go.
You swallowed hard, forcing the fog in your brain away and your signature smirk on your face.
It would satisfy the people waiting for you to make your way out from behind the stage and into the safety of the stadium halls, away from prying eyes.
“Let’s go.” You muttered, pushing the Gatorade back towards Steve.
It took all of your strength just to utter the word, and you knew it would take every bit of mental fortitude you had to wave at the fans as you passed.
But it was required.
It was the least you could do for the people who bought obstructed view seats. A thing you had done for every one of your other shows. A thing fans would absolutely notice if you didn’t do it.
It didn’t matter how much you didn’t want to.
“Let’s do it.” Clint agreed, positioning his hand on the small of your back, while Steve did the same on your other side.
You straightened and squared your shoulders.
You could do this one last act for your fans. Then you could let go.
*******
“That show is incredible,” Beth said, leaning against the VIP barricade. “I don’t know how she runs around like that for 3 and a half hours,”
“A lot of cardio,” Leah shrugged. “She released a whole behind the scenes video of how she trained for the tour.”
“That video felt staged though.” Viv said. “She was very different then she usually is with us, or you Less,”
The English striker hummed. “She likes to keep separation between her professional life and her private life.”
“Makes sense.” Katie agreed. “Did you see how many people had braided bracelets in all different colors?”
“I did.” Alessia nodded, her eyes trailing across the area near the stage, looking for your personal assistant. “But they have no clue what hers actually means. You all know her, but the fans just know the idea of her. It’s easier to keep it all separated.”
It was strange that she hadn’t seen your assistant yet. That she hadn’t come to retrieve her and the team.
Chloe was usually waiting at the VIP tent to take her backstage before the last fireworks of the show had even finished.
It had alarm bells swirling in her brain.
“It’s kind of amazing how confident she is on stage.” Beth agreed. “It’s like she’s 2 different people.”
“Sometimes she is.” Alessia trailed off spotting a different redhead coming around the stage. Your security instead of your assistant.
It was hard to wrap her head around the dichotomy between your loud, confident persona on stage and the quiet girl she knew you were, and as your career grew, that difference had only gotten larger.
Her eyebrows furrowed as Natasha approached them, nodding towards her friends before meeting her eyes. “I need to borrow you, please,”
Katie whistled. “Get it Lessie,”
“Gotta get that post concert energy out,” Kyra snickered, and the tear erupted into laughter behind her.
She shot a glare towards her cackling team. “Of course,”
Natasha was a part of your personal security. She didn’t need words to convey that you needed Alessia, and you needed her now.
“Alone please,” Natasha said, her eyes flickering towards the girls who tried to exit the tent with Alessia.
The laughter stopped around them, and Alessia nodded once, turning back towards the team.
“We’ll catch up with you lot tomorrow?” Alessia said, authority that the team rarely heard leaking into her tone. “We can do lunch, or maybe Dinner.”
Leah stepped forward and nodded, knowing this was not the time to argue with her. “Tell y/n thank you for the tickets and that we send our love,”
“Go take care of your superstar,” Beth nodded towards Natasha.
“I will,” Alessia nodded, stepping out of the tent.
She meant it.
You had taken care of yourself for most of the tour. It was her turn now.
******
You didn’t remember how you got to your dressing room. You didn’t remember waving to the fans, smiling widely and sending them hand hearts.
one second you were backstage, and then you blinked and Steve was gently closing the dressing room door behind you.
You paced the room, pushing the dark robe off of your shoulders. You didn't know what to do with yourself.
It was too warm and too cold. The dress shirt you wore on stage was too soft and too scratchy. Your mind was racing too fast and moving too slow all at once.
your breathing hitched, and you brought your trembling fingers of one and to your lips to prevent the sobs threatening to bubble out. The other tugged useless at your collar, trying to get air. This was not normal. It was rare you dropped, let alone this hard or this deep.
It was like quicksand, sucking you into the chaotic spiral deeper, faster, with more force the more you tried to fight it. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, and your brain was going to rip itself apart trying to untangle them.
You were in free fall, plummeting faster than you ever had before with no net to catch you. You had put it off for too long, and now you had no choice.
You knew you needed to do something, but making the decision of what you should do felt impossible.
You were done making decisions for the foreseeable future.
The sound of the door clicking open and shut again was nearly drowned out by the buzzing in your ears, but you Instinctively turned towards the presence that entered.
The air shifted around her as she stood in front of you like a mirage, immediately capturing all of your attention. For just a split second, your racing thoughts went quiet, and you were wholly consumed by her presence. It crackled like a warm fire on a cold day, or like a lightning storm over the sea. You couldn't decide.
You didn’t want to decide.
And you knew you didn’t need to.
Alessia- No, your Daddy was here and she would take care of everything.
Her gaze swept over you, taking in every twitch of your fingers against the buttons of your shirt, and the tremble that snaked its way across your shoulders and down your spine. You felt naked, despite the clothing scratching at your skin.
She crossed the room in 3 long strides, her hands catching your wrist before you even registered that she had moved.
”That’s enough, little one.” She said, keeping her voice gentle despite the command clear in it. “You’ve done so well, and I’m so proud of you, but I’m here now.”
She carefully unwound your fingers from here they were tearing at your shirt, placing them on her hips before deftly undoing the buttons. “I’ve got you. Just take deep breaths for me, love,”
You tried, but it felt like it was stuck in your throat, trapped by the inhuman sound now bubbling past your lips.
She carefully slid the thin material of your shirt from your shoulders, and you met her eyes.
The sob you’d been holding in finally broke free, your knees weakening as the weight of it all hit you. But before you could completely crumble, Alessia’s arms were around you, pulling you into her chest. Her scent, her warmth, everything about her surrounded you like a safety net.
Her fingers tangled in your hair, and she rested her cheek on the top of your head. “You’ve done so well, you can relax now. I’m here with you and I’m not going anywhere,”
Her other hand ran soothing circles on your back, easing the prickles on your skin like the world's best Aloe. “Just breathe, love.”
Her comforting touch seeped past your skin, settling deep into your bones. It eased the knotted panic in your chest, and dulled the sharp, frantic edges of anxiety that raced through you.
“That’s it little one,” She cooed, her grip on your firm and unyielding. It was tether to reality. An anchor in the crashing storm that was your mind. A lifeline when you were being pulled beneath the tide.
“You’re safe. You’re here with me, and I will always keep you safe. Just relax,”
Her voice was as steady as her grip on you. Commanding in a way that couldn’t be ignored, but soft enough that it didn’t bristle your sensitive instincts. It was a mixture that only Alessia seemed to be able to achieve. A tone she could modulate to perfectly match the situation.
You melted into her chest, nodding weakly as your tears slowed. Your entire body shuttered with each inhale, and hitched with each breath you blew out.
You were moving past the uncomfortable phase of the drop where your brain felt like a shattered glass mirror, fractured and sharp, and into the lapping warmth that only Alessia seemed to be able to bring you.
Alessia’s hands continued their slow, comforting path up and down your back, her breath even and calm, giving you a rhythm to sync your own to.
“That’s it, little one,” she hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re such a good girl for me. You’ve done so well. Just let it all go.”
You whimpered.
It felt too raw, too exposed. But Alessia knew—she always knew.
Her fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze. Her eyes were soft, but her tone left no room for argument.
“Look at me.” She said, using a finger to gently tilt your chin up. “You’ve done so well being in charge. You’ve run this entire tour, and made so many people happy. I’m so proud of you, but you can let go now. Let me be in charge for a little while,” She capped the statement with a gentle peck to your lips.
You tried to lean in to continue the kiss, but she pulled away.
“Later,” She promised, and you nodded once, sinking back into her chest.
You understood that she didn’t like to start anything while you were like this unless it was well discussed beforehand. While there was any chance that you couldn’t consent, or feel like you could remove consent.
You weren’t sure how long she stood there and held you, rocking gently from side to side and scratching your scalp. Long enough for the storm in your chest to mellow and for your brain to slowly begin knitting itself back together, grounded in the gentle pressure of your girlfriend. Your daddy.
“Let’s get cleaned up and then we can go home,” She said, when you pulled back enough to look at her. “Do you want your collar?”
you nodded against her chest, kissing gently under her chin.
“I need a verbal response, little one,” She said, dominance leaking into her tone to help you wade through the thick fog coating the crevices of your brain.
It took you a long second to think of the words, and another to push the fog in your mind back enough to actually verbalize them.
“Yes Daddy,” You said, frowning at how horse and garbled your voice was.
she hummed, carefully maneuvering you back towards the door. One hand stayed securely wrapped around you as the other reached into the bag you hadn’t seen her enter with and pulled out your soft, brown leather collar.
You hadn’t seen it since you left for tour, and just the sight was almost enough to send you back into a drop.
“Easy,” Alessia murmured, guiding you towards the couch that existed in all of your dressing rooms. She sat you on the edge, and kneeled in front of you so she was slightly shorter than you.
She trailed her hand down your arm to the bracelet around your wrist, carefully unclasping it and tucking it into her pocket. She then brought the soft leather of your regular collar to your neck, gently buckling it closed, making sure it wasn’t too tight.
Your shoulders immediately relaxed, the full weight of her claim settling on you.
“Let’s get cleaned up,” She said, catching your hand and standing you up. You went with her easily, leaning your weight on her as she led you to the bathroom.
The way she undressed you both and got you settled into the warm water of the shower was familiar, routine even.
You could feel yourself settling as she washed your hair, and cleaned your body of the sweat from the show.
She touched you like you were delicate, but not like you were fragile, and it was everything you needed to wade back to reality.
By the time she was using a towel to dry you off, and slipping one of her old UNC sweatshirts over your head you felt almost like yourself again. Your thoughts didn’t hurt anymore, and you were more grounded then you had been.
“Kneel for me,” She said softly, settling herself on the couch, and placing a pillow at her feet.
You hummed, and did as she asked, letting her guide you to lean back on her legs.
You sunk into the warmth of her sweatshirt, surrounded by the scent of her perfume as she toweled off your hair and braided It for you.
The rhythmic movement of her fingers through your hair and the feeling of safety and Alessia that encompassed you were enough to have your eyelids drooping.
You blinked heavily at the knock that sounded on the door, and the blonde head of your head of security poking his head in.
Steve didn’t look at you, steadfastly keeping his eyes on Alessia. “Miss Russo, we have the car ready whenever you are ready to leave.”
“Thank you, Steven,” She said softly, authority still dripping from her tone. “We’ll be out in a few minutes,”
He nodded and closed the door quietly as he exited.
“You’re all done, little one,” Alessia said, rubbing gentle circles in your shoulders, as you leaned further into her, your eyes sliding closed without your permission.
They only opened when she shifted behind you, and you turned to look at her sleepily.
She smiled gently at you, unable to stop herself from leaning in and pressing a quick peck to your lips.
This was her favorite version of you, soft and sleepy, unguarded and completely trusting. It was the version that only she got to see, and she was honored that you had chosen her to be your safe place.
”Alright little one,” She said, her finger hooked into the O-ring at the front of your collar, tugging lightly as she stood. “Let’s go home,”
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"YOU'RE AS BEAUTIFUL AS THE DAY I LOST YOU" (katsuki b.) !
features: katsuki bakugo
contents: fantasy au. angst. hurt/comfort/more hurt. mutual pining. barabrian!katsuki. fem!reader. childhood friends to lovers to strangers to lovers again. kidnapping. grief. crying. implied panic attack. major character death. no beta we die like men. 3.9k
notes: i've been yearning desperately to make bakugo say stoick's famous line from httyd2 (my second favorite movie)... if there's interest i'm considering continuing this into the canon verse with it being these two 'reincarnated'.
tagging: @saexy (for enabling and encouraging me in killing off characters) & @meristryker (for enabling me in the gc like a real one)
never in all his life did the great katsuki bakugo think that he would ever love someone enough that he could die. watching the loving smiles of his parents, the gentle caress of his father's hand to soothe his mother's unbridled anger: it made his stomach churn.
yet, at the tender age of seven, while on a trip to a nearby village to discuss the war shifting on the horizon, he finds himself absolutely smitten by their chieftain's daughter. wide e/c eyes peeking out from behind her mother's leg, hands clutching onto the hem of the long skirt.
katsuki finds himself enamoured in that instance, seeing sweet you, looking at the boy with such curious eyes. he stomps over to you: temper even fiery in his youth. his hand grabs onto yours as he hauls you out from behind the safety of your mother.
under the dim candlelight of the meeting room, flickering flames cast dancing rays across your skin. his chubby little face is scrunched into a scowl, tugging you out of the room and into the courtyard with a tenderness that betrayed his expression.
"i'm katsuki and you better not forget it!" his pitchy voice calls, still dragging you behind him. he looks over his shoulder, soft red eyes narrowed in what was an attempt to be intimidating.
but when he sees the relaxing of your eyelids, falling slightly in contentment, with a warm smile that rivals any feeling of victory: the mask of indifference slips in a blink of an eye. red dusts over the slops of his face, baby-fat painted the same carnelian as his eyes. his small hand grips tighter onto yours, as if he never would let you go.
your chubby little face stretches as your smile widens into a toothy grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. "got it, katsuki, i'm y/n!" he swears your voice is just like the lullaby his mother would hum while rocking him to sleep, bringing a rush of warmth through his chest.
that day, katsuki bakugou falls terribly in love with y/n l/n.
the two of you are deemed inseparable, hands always connecting like opposing poles of a magnet. pinkies intertwined stronger than any woven cloth. it's as pure and innocent as it can be.
if one were to see y/n, then it was irrevocably certain that katsuki was a few steps away. it sends rumors spiralling through the lands that there will be a union between the bakugo barbaricum and l/n dynasty. you're only eight when there's an attempt made for your hand.
the thought of two families as powerful as you and katsuki's joining was a fearful thing to many. it spelled doom for many weaker civilizations, those who had dug their own graves with their actions.
your family, blessed be you to have been born to loving parents in a world such as this, easily rejects the many proposals. the l/n dynasty is in a state of power where they are not forced to fend for their village: allowing you this freedom.
running through the streets of his stronghold, chasing each other for the sake of some game that was the farthest thing from either of your minds. katsuki feels whole when you are at his side. the world doesn't seem so ugly, he doesn't feel so angry, everything sings the hymns of the heavens.
he can't pull his ruby eyes off of your form by the age of fifteen. the katsuki you had known, baby-faced with a slight stutter, has began to fill out into a man. his shoulders broaden and begin to carry thick cords of muscle. the chubbiness of his cheeks begins to give rise to sharper angles. his whiny voice is pushed aside by a more gravelly tone. he shoots up like a sprout, hunching over slightly in faces that used to fit him so easily.
but he isn't the only one who is growing into his frame. your shoulders soften at the corners, collarbones visible with every slight movement. your baby fat begins to settle and collect on your hips, rounding them. those toothy grins of yours become framed by pretty lips, always looking soft as a pillow. clothes that used to drape over your like a sheet now feel tighter in certain places, stretching over curves that popped up overnight.
the two of you don't know what to do with yourselves, stolen looks when the other isn't looking. you still hook pinkies, but the touch sends flares of heat running up the back of your neck. it's like you were just meeting each other for the first time all over again.
katsuki feels like a damn sap with the way his heart thunders under his skin: threatening to burst out. he's too taken to notice the heat that was rising to your face whenever he was around, the way your hands nervously would grip onto the swaying fabric of your skirt. too blind to see that you were just as infatuated with him as he was with you.
hurried words, lingering touches, sneaking glances, the two of you had every hint of love right in front of your faces. yet, there's a hesitance that lingers in the back of young minds: afraid that falling in love would end up with no one catching them.
unsurprisingly, katsuki is the one who jumps first. it's a quiet night, the moon is high in the sky. his breath puffs out in front of him like smoke, winter beginning to show herself once more.
you looked too beautiful under the soft azure glow that the celestial sky casts upon you, he simply couldn't bear another moment without you known how much his very soul ached for you.
on the eve of his sixteenth birthday he whispers the words like a prayer, voice softened and gentle for once in his life. "y/n... you plague my every waking thought, i cannot let my heart beat any longer without it being yours."
e/c eyes widen as your head snaps to him, lips parting in shock. katsuki beats you to it, rough palms (once baby-soft) cupping your cheek with a tenderness he was unaware he possessed.
the stars illuminate the sunkissed slopes of his cheekbones, showing the fine lashes that fan out over his eyes. katsuki was ethereal, in every sense of the word, it catches your breath in a hitch. your mind stumbles through everything you could say right now, desperately trying to find the perfect response.
but when the pads of his thumbs drag over the apples of your cheeks, leaving a buzz in the wake of his touch, all rational thought leaves as you allow words to flow like a stream. "i have loved you longer than i have known you, katsuki." your voice is hushed, only filling the small space between the two of you: like a secret that only he and you would ever know.
it sends a trill up your spine when his eyes visibly soften, his face had been growing more and more sharp by the day but only when he was with you did the curve of his cheeks soften. he turns back into a boy around you, as you turn back into a girl when held so gently between his hands.
katsuki surges forwards, nose clumsily knocking against yours, teeth colliding with your own. he's inexperienced, never having kissed a girl, much less even though of kissing anyone but you. you both are a mess, giggling softly through messy pecks smearing over each other's faces. it feels like you're both those giddy kids once more, chasing the other through the cobbled streets of your village. he makes your heart sing.
it was even harder to be apart from him now, hands fully clasped together as you walk through the streets of either of your hometowns. yet, no one is surprised. neither of your parents nor his even bat an eye when you announce the courtship at a family dinner.
love is as natural as breathing for you and katsuki. inherently you have always known exactly what the other needs. he knows just how much you like the wildflowers that grow en-route between your homes. you know just how much he likes when you rise on your tiptoes and press a kiss against the corner of his lips.
it's young and dumb, a rush of big emotions and smiles that stretch your cheeks so far they ache. once you both are eighteen, katsuki turns the courtship into a betrothal. an elegant gold ring, with a garnet slotted right in the center, it sits pretty on your ring finger. his band is thicker, small e/c gemstones scattered along the surface. when in battle he loops it through a chain around his neck: pressing a kiss to the ring before charging forwards.
the world has known y/n l/n and katsuki bakugo have been in love for nearly twelve years, official for three, and betrothed for one. the bakugo barbaricum and the l/n dynasty have began making their plans to unify upon the wedding. it sparks a wave of unease in the badlands.
all it takes is an emissary sent from the dark forest for your world to crumble into shambles. a demon who seems to be the land's scourge reincarnated, hand that turn all to ash, pillages your beloved village. he comes in tow with a mimic and a fire mage. destruction rains as you are brought to the center as their singular demand is you.
your eyes lock with the demon's red eyes, a color that had made you feel so safe until now. the hair on the nape of your neck stands pin-straight as his hand extended towards you: palm up.
a flurry of emotions rush through you like a burst dam, memories of katsuki at the forefront. you want to be selfish, to damn him and his band of criminals to hell, to fight back despite the gravity of the situation. but he is bringing terror upon the people you swore to protect with your life.
so, you step forwards, soft hand sliding into his own. never had a rough palm felt like daggers against your skin, never had you so violently despised the way carmine shines in the light of blue flames.
to save your people, your family, the home you have known your entire life: you go. swept away in black mist. the last thing you see of that place is the bakugo horde rushing towards the gates, your eyes lock with katsuki's before the void claims you.
katsuki lets out a guttural scream as her charges head first into the miasma, falling onto the ground as the last wisp flows just through his fingers. his fist slams against the ground, hands gasping at the dirt you had just been on. he allows himself to cry in front of someone other than you, a wail echoing through the ruins of your village.
that day, you disappear off the face of the realm. no matter how many search parties are sent into the dark forests in the badlands, they all return empty-handed (if they return at all). katsuki keep his ring around his neck, so it beats against his bare chest with every movement: like a reminder of how it felt when his heart actually beat .
scars wind around his arms, around his biceps, over his forearms, across his shoulders. his face is hardened, permanent frown on the lips you used to kiss so tenderly. he's angrier than ever, fuse short as his attention span.
he is a shell of the man he had been, going through the motions of survival but never truly being alive.
this persists for a grueling two years. for seven-hundred and thirty days. for seventeen-thousand five-hundred twenty hours. he is separated from the only person that has ever felt like home, the woman he has loved longer than he knew how to read.
he masks it behind his ego, boisterous laugh to hide the ringing in is ears that hadn't been able to stop. he's more violent the field, less forgiving when in training with kirishima. the explosions that thunder from his palms produce a blackened smoke that lingers and settles in his lungs like a fog.
yearning hits him late at night when he lays alone in bed, a bed that you had once shared with him. silent tears pour, running down the sides of katsuki's face as he stares blankly up at the ceiling. his breath feels short as his chest heaves to get air in. the man's mind is clouded with the look on your face as those bastards took you. he can still remember every single little twitch of your expression when you finally saw him. he remembers the way your breath hitched. he remembers the tears that began to pool at the corners of your eyes.
but, most of all, he remembers not seeing you: for what feels like the first time in his life.
katsuki cannot recall when he finally fell asleep, or if he ever even truly did. his dreams are plagued with you anyways, so the line between memory and dream is thin as a tightrope.
he has a dream that he makes it in time to save you and wakes up alone. that one sticks with him for months, hanging over him like a shadow. if he was only a minute sooner, a stride faster, reacted quicker. maybe you would be in his arms right now instead of gods know where.
relief comes in a rumor that circles in a tavern that a woman with h/c hair and e/c eyes was spotted wondering through the dark forest. katsuki doesn't hesitate, he makes no effort to send out a scout party. he rides at dawn, horse hooves beating against the grass in a frenzied gallop as he makes his way into the badlands.
none of the rouges or thieves hope to stand a chance with him, the smart ones don't even try. he vanquishes the less fortunate with a single swing of his cutlass. the man doesn't stop to rest, only to water his horse and allow it to graze while he catches a brief nap.
his horse comes to a stop right outside the dark forests, whinnying in rejection to enter. katsuki doesn't blame the poor thing, this was the kind of place people went with no intention to come back from. he dismounts, not tying his horse off: it would return with a whistle.
the forest is eerie, yawning opening that is reminiscent of a gaping mouth. but he didn't fear. because at this point, he'd rather not come back if it meant he wasn't coming back with you.
footfalls crunching against leaves and sticks echo through the dim lit treeline. the canopy is so thick that it completely obscures the bright sunlight katsuki has just been under: the perfect place for criminals to hide. the trees creak and groan, as if the land itself was breathing and living.
only when he hears the snap of a twig does he stop, his head snaps around, a flash of h/c darting just out of the corner of his visions. the man's heart stops as he stumbles to pursue, not minding the whipping of low handing branches against his face. not when he could see you darting through the underbrush.
he finally sees you in the full when you run into a path dead-ended by brambles. it's really you. y/n, his y/n.
but you look over your shoulder with such a forlorn look it makes his heart ache in his chest. you don't believe that it's really him. "toga, this isn't funny, it's cruel to keep making me see him." your voice is rougher than he remembered, as if your throat had been worn. it makes his fists clench at his sides.
the mimic had been wearing his face, just to torment you?
just the thought of it sends a rage burning deep in his chest. he has no way of knowing what you have been through. katsuki couldn't protect you: like he always feared he would fail to do.
his steps toward you are hesitant, ruby red eyes softening the second he sees your face. his heart is pounding out of his ribs, it makes him wonder if you can hear it.
a rough hand reaches up to roughly tug the chain that held his engagement band around his neck, the links snapping and clattering to the ground. he doesn't even look at it. with a gentleness, he holds out the ring to you.
your eyes dart back between the metal and him, hands tentatively reaching for it. the thundering race of your heartbeat is all you can hear. your hands, once soft, now rough as his bush against his own as you roll the ring between your fingers.
katsuki's heart breaks when he feels the callouses on your fingertips. he lowers slowly to his knees in front of you, tears fighting their way to prick at the corners of his eyes. he looks up at you like you are the light in the world, a goddess before him. in a way, you are, because he had prayed to every deity to hold you again, even if it was only once more.
"you're as beautiful as the day i lost you." his words come out in a rasp. thick emotion coursing through his chest; nearly choking him.
he watched your eyes widen, tears pooling as you too crash onto the ground. your arms wrap tight around his neck, face pressed side-by-side with his own. strong arms encircle your waist in an instant, pressing you closer with an urgency.
"katsuki... oh gods, katsuki..." you don't even know what to say, just repeating his name like a desperate prayer. your cheeks are wet and your chest aches but you don't care, because he's finally here.
lips clash desperately, just as messy as the kiss the two of you first shared five years ago. it's a mess of teeth and tongue as your fingers tangle into ash-blonde hair, his hands finding the back of your head and your hip. he sucks the breath out of you, as if wanting to absorb you into his being.
and you'd let him if he asked.
carmine eyes search for e/c, his hands cupping your cheeks as he pulls back to study your face. it's like you never left. your eyes are tired, there's some grime on your cheeks, a soft scar above your eyebrow that you've had since you were thirteen.
the softest smile spreads on his face, forehead pressing against yours as his lashes flutter shut. katsuki lets out a deep sigh, one he had been holding for nearly two years now.
warmth blooms in your chest as everything finally settles back into place like puzzle pieces. your hearts beat in sync, you draw breath when he exhales, everything is right in the world once more.
but your heart skips a beat as your eyes open to see that cursed white hair with horns peeking out from below it. tomura shigaraki. a wicked smirk on his lips as he's leaned back against a tree, simply watching.
your hands grip tighter onto the back of the shawl draping over katsuki's shoulders, breathing turning shaky and ragged.
no. no. no. they couldn't take this from you. not again. not after how hard you fought to escape the league just at the fleeting chance of being able to see the man you love. this had to be some cruel joke, right? a trick of the light, maybe...
even you aren't naive enough to believe that, your eyes close as you lean against katsuki, head burying into the crook of his neck. your fiddle with his hands to slip the ring back onto it's rightful place on his third finger. a part of you had already resigned to being ripped away again.
after two years with the demon, you learned firsthand what shigaraki was capable of. and you were not going to allow katsuki to find it out as well.
your legs shook as you stood, a weak smile given at your lover's confused look. "i'll always love you, 'suki, you know that." his eyes widen as his head nods, brows furrowing.
"then let me keep you safe."
carnelian irises widen in realization as his head turns to look back, growl ripping from his chest at the sight of the scourge of the realm's protege. his hands immediately reach for the hilt of his sword, explosions popping in his palms.
but you're already beginning to approach. katsuki seizes you in one arm, hauling you away like the day you first met. he runs through the forest with you: knowing that shigaraki would not allow the both of you to leave.
he bounds over winding tree roots, holding you steady and tight against his chest. the impending sense of doom begins to crawl up the back of his neck, but he needs you to be safe.
with you in his arm, he stumbles out of the forest, shrill whistle leaving his lips as the sound of hooves grows closer. with ease he sets you up on the saddle, but he does not join. you realize immediately what is about to happen. "katsuki-"
"no. it's my turn to keep you safe, y/n. i've always loved you, and i always will. in every life i will find you, and in every life, i will protect you." his words bring tears to your eyes as you desperately stake your head, sobs bubbling past your lips.
shigaraki creeps out of the forest and he delivers a harsh smack to the horse's haunches, sending it galloping away. within a second later a hand is reaching through katsuki's chest, mocking laugh against his ear.
"how heroic. i'll make sure you die slow, barbarian."
never in all his life did the great katsuki bakugo think that he would ever love someone enough that he could die.
that was until he lay on the edge of the forest floor, lifeblood leaking from the gaping hole in the center of the chest. but he wasn't anguished: because he died for you, the only person who he would ever love.
okkotsuus 24
#mha#mha x reader#bnha#bnha x reader#my hero academia#my hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia#boku no hero academia x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo#bakugo#bakugo x reader#bakugou#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki#bakugou katuski x reader#bakugo katsuki#bakugo katuski x reader
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Kodaka April Fools tweets 2024
Lying just because it's April Fools' is so dull. Honestly painful to watch. Lying in general doesn't do you any good. In my younger days, I told every lie I could, saying some genuinely insane stuff about being a supreme leader of evil and whatnot, and thanks to that, now that I'm in my thirties, I got famous for all the wrong reasons and can't find a stable job because people think I'm associated with the yakuza... Sigh, I wanna deck my cringe younger self's face. Quit lying for fun while you can.
My classmates aren't doing great either. Thinking you're hot shit during your school days always comes back to bite you... My advice to my past self: slow and steady effort is worth more than any talent. Also, the part of life you spent larping with that silly horse laugh is not going to be one you'll want to remember later. I wish I could make that clear to him. White lies aren't a thing. Talent is never enough. My class is proof of that. Wanna know what my classmates are like now that we're in our thirties?
Akamatsu became a piano teacher. Her player skills capped off in her teens, it seems. But she's not that good at teaching so she's considered kinda mid at her job. And now she's struggling with the father of a student incessantly hitting on her. Tough world to live in.
Toujou opened a housekeeping company but she was too strict with her employees so everyone quit. And now she's doing everything on her own. Sucks to be in your thirties without any successors or employees. She's a prime example of how being so much better than anyone else doesn't do you any good. Well, she's always working for celebrities, so she's doing well financially, but I heard about some major court fight about a missing item under suspicion of theft from one of her clients. That can't be nice.
Yumeno got to her thirties still saying magic is real, so she's past the point of no return. She agrees that's an unhinged way to live, but she's too old to suddenly change gimmicks. Work takes her all over the country, but her gimmick doesn't allow her to publicly drink, so she has to get plastered alone in her hotel room after shows. I wish she could fix her life with real magic.
Harukawa? ...Haven't heard that name in a long time. Now she was a living edgy fantasy. The past tense was because I hadn't heard of her in a long time. I don't know the details, but apparently, she went to some war zone outside of Japan because her first love didn't want to date her. Takes some real edgelord to react to a broken heart like that, but if she's still alive, I have no idea how her thirties are treating her. My personal guess is that she's a mother of many.
Chabashira opened her Aikido school but is having a hard time attracting students. So she had the idea of starting an anti-sexual-harassment campaign that could double as advertisement, but thanks to her cluelessness when it comes to romance, she got canceled for mistakenly tossing men in regular couples. She's still doing the "degenerate males" bit in her thirties. Girl really needs to get on with the times. Rumor goes that she still downs huge packs of tequila bottles with Yumeno every now and then. Really don't think there's any salvaging her reputation.
Shirogane is an office lady still continuing her cosplay hobby on the side. She could be doing well if she knew how to keep her mouth shut but frequently rambles about cosplay history and etiquette, so no one likes having her around. Stay emotionally dependent on a single hobby long enough and your passion starts to close you off to others. That's her problem.
Angie was the most successful in the class! She made big money both on the art and the religion fronts. However, there were some controversies about her devotees selling counterfeits of her paintings at exorbitant prices and one magazine made a huge news coverage of it, which resulted in her catching the police's attention. She's been recently untraceable, with the rumors saying that she'll never be back to Japan.
Oh, and Iruma... Up until some point, she had the best life of all of us. She made big money off of her inventions' patents. So far so good. Things only started going off-rails after she married an ex-stripper. The two started a YouTube channel together. And later, her husband ran in last year's elections and lost big time. They got an awful debt from his election campaign and she had to get into side jobs to pay it off. And her husband? Disappeared. No word from Iruma herself about what happened. Tough world to live in.
No further updates from Kodaka in the past 3 hours, so I assume he went to sleep and will come back to tweet about the 7 remaining boys in the morning.
#kokichi ouma#kaede akamatsu#kirumi toujou#himiko yumeno#maki harukawa#tenko chabashira#tsumugi shirogane#angie yonaga#miu iruma
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— BOULEVARD OF BROKEN DREAMS
SUMMARY : sharing a room with sam when dean has the sex drive that he has usually means he has to be quiet when he’s doing the dirty with his girl.
PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader
CHARACTERS : sam winchester
WARNINGS : smut, nsfw (18+), fluff, alcohol, sub!dean, exhibitionism tbh, ✨saliva✨
WORD COUNT : 2.9k
A/N : title from green day’s song. I believe in subby dean and I love him! so, here’s the first dean fic I wanna share. I really appreciate y’all :’) Xx
Dean grunted softly as he moved his hand up and down his cock. He smirked beside him at his sleeping girlfriend, and then looked ahead at the silhouette of his hand beneath the sheets moving up and down, outlined by the street light shining through the thin curtains. The sound of the sheets ruffling was loud in the nighttime, almost muffling the sound of his cock, and he carefully shoved the sheets off himself while keeping Y/N blanketed.
He closed his eyes, bit his lip and started to picture Y/N sucking his dick. He pictured her awake comfortably naked between his legs with her hot mouth wrapped around him. It was more exciting knowing that she was sleeping next to him, that he was imagining her pleasuring him the way he knew she could if she were awake. He was so turned on, but he was mostly teasing himself, being quiet enough that Sam wouldn’t wake up, but loud enough so that Y/N would.
Sam had gotten drunk with Dean, but unlike Dean, he blacked out as soon as his overgrown body hit the bed. That meant nothing was waking Sam up anytime soon, not a monster, not an apocalypse, not even the way Dean panted trying to get himself off. He didn’t mind edging himself a bit longer, he was willing to wait as long as he had to before she woke up and gave him what he needed. And he needed her real bad, so he wasn’t gonna stop, but he wasn’t gonna let himself finish either.
After the hunt, a successful case of killing a pack of werewolves in the woods, Dean decided to take Y/N and Sam out for drinks. The thing was, when Dean got drunk, he became more clingy than usual and he would start acting cute. He remembered bits and pieces of what he did when he was drunk. From getting her into his lap while he talked to Sam and some random hunter in a green, leathery booth. To the way he clung to her the whole time, when he’d drunkenly gone and played pool with a bunch of idiot college students trying and successfully hustling them.
He remembered constantly kissing her cheek, holding her soft face in his hands to make out with her when he dragged her around the bar finding different things to do with himself. And he remembered flirting with her. He remembered that cute little smile on her face and the even more adorable blush that painted her cheeks when he gave her his famous smoulder.
He remembered that she’d stopped drinking after just one drink. She was taking care of him and Sam. She��d driven them back to the motel and she babied him into bed despite the fact that he was trying to seduce her. He blushed at the memory, the way he kissed her neck and groped her beautiful body, making it hard for her to take his clothes off so he could sleep comfortably.
He moaned softly at a particular twist around his cock, and he changed his fantasy, preferring to imagine all the dirty things Y/N would say to him as she fucked him. He could faintly remember how her walls felt around him, her sweaty body pressed against his, setting his skin on fire with her touch. Her name fell from his lips, spilled into the quiet room, and she shifted beside him at last. He whispered her name again and again, praying that she would wake up and make him cum herself.
He slowed the pace in which he jerked himself off when she nuzzled into his bicep, her soft lips still against his tense muscle. She mumbled something against his skin, but could only hear the sleep in her voice and was unable to decipher a word she said. He gazed down at her and squinted his eyes to make out her face, but he couldn’t see much as she was shadowed by his body. He only felt her hand move down his chest, warm and soft against his body. He gasped, squirmed when she brushed her fingertips against his tummy, and squeezed his eyes shut when she wrapped her small hand over his.
“You’re so loud,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
“Y/N,” he moaned, letting her fingers replace his. She stroked him lazily, felt her little smirk against his arm when he moved his hips up in search of more friction. “Please,” he whined quietly. He turned his whole body to face her so she changed her hand’s position, squeezing his cock torturously and rubbing her thumb over the leaking slit of his cockhead. “I can’t,” he gasped, pressing his forehead against hers.
She let go of his cock and pressed her lips firmly against his, “I’ve got you, baby,” she murmured against his mouth. His fingers dug into her waist, pulling her closer to him. “What do you want? Tell me, Dean,” she teased, moving her lips along his jaw and neck, thrilled to hear his heavy breaths.
“You,” he whispered, “I need you, need to be inside you right now,” he moaned. He pawed at her hips and started to tug her underwear down impatiently. She giggled, helped him get them off her, and laughed when he hung them over the lamp. He smiled softly at the sound and moved on top of her, settling between her opened legs before he leaned down to kiss her.
He slid his cock through her wet folds, felt her wiggle her hips, and gasp against his mouth when he pressed the head of his cock against her clit. “I thought you were too needy,” she whined playfully. He felt her pout against his lips and pulled away slightly attempting to make her face out in the darkness, only the yellow glow from outside illuminated her. He chuckled at her and grasped her hip, pinning her down to the mattress as he panted against her parted lips.
“You’re such a little tease,” he laughed softly, smirking at her when he sat back on his legs, lifting her legs onto his thighs.
He used the streetlight to guide his cock to her slick entrance, his plump lips parting with satisfaction at the sight of her glistening cunt stretching around his cockhead. He slid into her smoothly and he stared—utterly enchanted, as she took every inch of him until he was buried fully in her warmth.
“Like that?” He asked smugly and she rolled her eyes, her hands flexing on her thighs, squirming from how big he was. Dean smirked down at her when he noticed, swivelling his hips tortuously just to feel the clench of her walls around him. He collected saliva in his mouth and watched it drip down to her pussy, right on her folds.
He licked his lips to clear the lingering spit on his swollen lips and brought his thumb to her clit to smear his saliva over the sensitive nerve. He gently moved his hips against her, turned on at the sight of the black shirt she wore haphazardly scrunched around her waist from the angle he had her positioned in.
He leaned over her, placed his arm by her head, and dropped loving kisses along her jaw. Her heavy breaths mingled with his, the only sound bouncing off the cheap walls besides the gentle sound of the bedsprings. He used various methods to massage her clit until she was squirming beneath him again. Her walls continued to pulse around him, wet, warm, and driving him crazy. “I’m not gonna last,” he whispered shyly against her shoulder.
She pushed up against him gently with her hips, her hands held onto his triceps, so he moved back a little to check on her. “Everything okay?” He asked softly, distractedly slowing down the circles on her clit to study her flushed face.
When she nodded, he kissed her forehead, and started to pull out slightly to thrust back into her again, but he didn’t expect her to shove him back slightly, forcing his cock to slip out of her all the way.
He looked at her with confusion, “wha-“
He caught himself with his arms behind him, stared at her as his shirt she wore slipped down and covered her naked body again. She climbed onto his lap again, “you’re so pretty,” she murmured. Holding his chin with her fingers, she swiped her thumb across his bottom lip and his breath hitched. His cheeks started to warm up at the tingling that followed her finger along his lip and he whined again. “Shh, stop being so loud,” she told him quietly, and leaned forward to silence him with a heated kiss.
He slid his hands between her legs, shoving two fingers into her without a care, pumping them in and out, moaning into her mouth at the squelch his fingers and her cunt made around him. She sucked on his bottom lip and he groaned, grinding his palm against her clit and adding a third finger, feeling like he could cum just from the wetness that started to cover his knuckles and wrist.
“I love it when you get needy,” she panted, moving his hand away by grabbing his wrist. She lifted his wet fingers to her lips and licked her arousal off them, keeping her eyes on his as his lips parted in surprise. “Are you gonna cum?” She teased, placing his hands on her hips under the shirt she wore.
“Stop teasing me,” he whispered, swallowing some saliva to moisten his dry throat. She laughed quietly and he bit his lip, becoming flustered with her confidence. “Please,” he begged softly, lowering her hips to press against his so her wet pussy could brush against his throbbing cock.
She let out a faint hum, letting him fuck himself with both amusement and fascination. He closed his eyes despite wanting to feel demeaned by the look on her face and got lost in the tiny fragments of pleasure he was feeling. He pressed his forehead against her shoulder, focusing on teasing her soaked entrance with the soft head of his cock until she gave in and shifted to let him slip inside her.
“Fuck… yes,” he moaned, gripping her hips tightly as her warmth and her slick coated his cock. She ground her hips against his, squeezing his cock until he whined and bucked his hips up into her. “Fuck, don’t do that,” he hissed.
She chuckled mischievously, then shushed him as she slowly rolled her hips against his, his mouth parting. A broken moan left his lips, but it was immediately muffled by him when he bit her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist. He thrusted his hips upwards, slowly moving in and out of her until she was pushing him onto his back and riding him.
He screwed his eyes shut, biting his lip so hard he thought he’d taste his blood soon. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips, bruising her soft skin with his desperate touch. His eyes fluttered open to watch her lift herself up and down with her lips parted and swollen. He felt like cumming just at the sight of her and she must have expected a loud moan to fall from his now open mouth because she put her hand over it just as a groan rumbled in his chest, deep and hot.
Her walls spasmed around him, a quiet curse falling from her lips. She looked over at Sam cautiously, picking up the pace and keeping her hand over his mouth. He felt even more turned on, noting the way she shifted her hips to add friction to her clit. He whined against her hand, desperately meeting her thrusts as the bed springs started to squeak louder.
He didn’t even care if Sam woke up anymore, he tugged her hips forward, wanting her full attention on him. He felt his cock swell and twitch inside her, so close to spilling hot inside her. She was driving him crazy, especially with the way her walls squeezed his cock so tight as if it would shut her up.
It drove him over the edge and he came inside her almost involuntarily. Another moan from him heated her palm. She gasped from the unexpectedness of it, leaning over him, her soft hair tickling his skin. She moaned loudly into the bed, pressed her face into the sheets by his head as she trembled and came on his cock. Her warm walls quivered and dripped around him, her hips moving on his cock slower as she rode out her orgasm, his sweaty skin sticking to hers.
She turned her face slightly, her warm breath tickling his ear. He lifted his hand up to move her hair behind her ear and she removed her hand from his mouth, resting it over his thumping heart. They both laid there for a few moments, unmoving, panting in an attempt to catch their breaths and clear their hazy minds. He lovingly pressed kisses along her cheek, temple, and the tip of her ear, rubbing his hand up and down her sides under her shirt.
“That was so hot,” he said after a while, sounding breathless and hoarse. She laughed tiredly and she started to lift the top of her body off him, only to lean forward and kiss him deeply. He was smiling, his mouth readily open for her. His tongue slipped into her minty mouth, soft tongues rolling over each other languidly.
Both of them smiled into the kiss and he wrapped his arm around her waist, moving her onto her back and slipping out of her, careless about the mess he was making between their bodies. She hummed softly against his mouth, a little laugh making her part from his lips. He continued to admire her, fixing her sex hair as best as he could before he dropped a kiss on her forehead, trailing his lips down to her warm cheeks and neck.
“We have a long drive tomorrow, D,” she murmured, her nails gently scratching his scalp, “you should sleep now, I’ll take care of the mess.” He moaned quietly, agreeing with her, pressing his face into her neck and kissed the spot his lips were closest to.
“Mkay,” he mumbled, moving up off her. He looked around for his boxers and felt the bed shift as she made her way to the restroom to clean herself up. He grabbed her underwear off the lamp and grabbed his phone, using the lowest light level to check if they’d stained the sheets.
Despite having told him she’d take care of it, he didn’t listen. He shoved the clean sheets away, feeling both shy and prideful at the mess, and pulled the dirty covers off to hide them as best as he could and replaced them as quickly as he could with clean ones he always made sure to ask for beforehand when they got a room.
He moved out of bed when he was done, waddling to the bathroom with her underwear in his hand. He smiled fondly when he found her washing her hands with the water hardly turned on so it wouldn’t be loud and wake Sam up.
“Your underthings,” he said with a grin, holding them up for her. She turned to look at him and chuckled, drying her hands with a towel to take her underwear from him. “Allow me, my love,” he said dramatically, stopping her from taking them. She gave him a look but played along.
He squatted down in front of her and lifted her leg with his hand around her ankle. She held onto his shoulder for balance, allowing him to help her into her underwear with an amused and affectionate smile on her face that glowed in her eyes.
“Thanks, Dean,” she murmured. She pecked his lips when he stood back up to her face, after having pulled the soft cotton up her legs and comfortably in place around her hips. He squeezed her ass playfully, drawing a laugh from her.
She followed him with her eyes when he moved towards the sink to wash his hands with soap and warm water. She waited for him patiently, leaning against the doorway and playing with the hem of the black t-shirt. She admired him this time, took in the messy and soft spikes of his hair, his teeth pulling at his plump lip. He was gorgeous and he looked over at her, his eyes warm and loving as he took her in too.
“Let’s go to bed, my little flower.” Dean dried his hands with the same towel she used and reached out for her hand, seeing her roll her eyes and snort at the new pet-name he was trying out for her. “You know you like all the names I give you,” he smirked down at her, turning the lights off after her to make their way back to bed.
“I do,” she admitted after a while, biting her lip to stop her happy smile. He could see her thanks to the bright lights outside and the drawn curtains. A delightful feeling filled his stomach and made him feel warm all over. He took her face in his hands, giving her the type of kiss people would give each other if they were saying hello after missing each other their whole lives.
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#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#deanwinchtser#dean winchester smut#supernatural#supernatural smut#1.1
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Terrible Visions
A scrambled timeline is a timeline that has proceeded much like ours, except that some particular facet has been mixed up all over the place. For example, in the scrambled timeline we will consider today, our world's fictional stories have been told by different people, and in different ways.
Bryan Lee O'Malley, in this alternate timeline, is best known as the cartoonist responsible for Homestuck, a popular comic series about a group of children who become embroiled in a cosmic-scale video game known as Sburb. Although Homestuck is probably most often associated with the cult classic Edgar Wright-directed film adaptation released in 2016, the comics themselves are highly-regarded, and the film brought a new audience to them. Netflix has commissioned an animated continuation, The Homestuck Epilogues, which is due to be released soon.
Andrew Hussie, on the other hand, is a figure you're likelier to know if you're overly online. His "MS Paint Adventures" series - most notably including Scott Pilgrim Vs The World, which is kind of like Homestuck but weirder and hornier - have firmly remained a fixture of obsessive Twitter fandom culture. It doesn't help that the best-known iteration, Scott Pilgrim Vs The World, is infamous for stretching thousands of pages of meandering digressions out of a simple and focused narrative starting point. Scott Pilgrim fans have developed something of a toxic reputation, which is not entirely deserved - although of course Knives discourse is interminable, and back in the fandom's heyday there were reportedly incidents of fans assaulting each other "for being evil exes".
Scott Pilgrim fandom was very big back in the day, though, and consequently it was a nexus for other creative figures who would go on to surpass Hussie. Perhaps foremost among these is indie developer Toby Fox. He was literally living in Hussie's basement when he produced ROSEQUARTZ, a universally-beloved retro Goonies-like RPG about a human hybrid boy born to a race of gem-based aliens. He's now developing an episodic spiritual successor, RAZORQUEST, with more overtly dark themes. It revolves around an inheritance dispute among a demon-summoning family.
Other foundational figures in this timeline's internet culture include Alison Bechdel, who helped get the webcomic scene started. Although she's now more seriously acclaimed for her personal memoirs, her gaming webcomic Press Start To Dyke, which premiered in 1998, was once everywhere. It had a broad appeal, and at its height, it was common to see even straight guys sharing pages from it. Time has not been especially kind to it, though, and at this point its main legacy is test.png, a meme spawned by one of the comic's most ill-advised pages.
Then there's John C. McCrae, more often known by his pseudonym Wildbow. A prolific and reclusive author of doorstopping "web serials" - long-form fiction published online - McCrae's best-known serial is still his first, Wind, a noir superhero story set in an alternate history where capes are mostly just a subculture of unpowered vigilantes. Wind landed in a culture already rife with comic book deconstructions, like Alan Moore's 2002 graphic novel Worm Turns, but it nonetheless managed to stand out from the pack with its extensive cast of characters and its themes of coordination problems and the end of the world. Later McCrae web serials include Part (the first "Otherverse" serial; an urban fantasy story about a couple who die in a car accident and find that they have become ghosts), Tear (a "biopunk" story set in a collapsing underwater city), Warn (the controversial Wind sequel), and Play (the second "Otherverse" serial, set in a small Indiana town that helps hide a psychic girl from the CIA).
Last and perhaps least, we should discuss J. K. Rowling. Far and away the most famous of any of these authors, Rowling's name is inseparable from the YA series that she debuted with, the Luz Noceda books, which remain her one successful work. Although it was heavily derivative of older fantasy novels - like Jill Murphy's Academy For Little Witches, or Philip Pullman's Methods Of Rationality trilogy - Luz Noceda was still a monumental and unprecedented success in the publishing industry, and the film adaptations were consistent blockbusters. The final book, Luz Noceda and the Watcher of Rain, contained some allusions to a romantic relationship between Luz and her recently-redeemed associate Amity. Rowling confirmed that this was her intent in subsequent interviews and indicated that she had fought her publishers for it; the film would then go on to escalate matters slightly further.
There have been many lengthy and heated online arguments as to whether the references in the book itself constitute text or mere subtext. Whatever your stance on this discourse, a new complication has been introduced recently: although she has put out no official statement on the matter as of yet, it has become quite apparent from Rowling's shrinking network of contacts and her conspicuous silences that she is certainly TERF-sympathetic, and likely an outright TERF herself. For many, this is leading to a critical reevaluation of the social values inherent in the Luz Noceda series; others, to say the least, are holding off on that kind of reappraisal.
Anyway, Scott Pilgrim just beat Luz Noceda in a Twitter poll for Most Gay Media, and people are piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissed
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Template can be found here.
Background & Personality:
Maisie is sweet, energetic, kind and empathetic, some people would even describe her as naive... Which couldn't be farther from the truth. She's born into a wealthy family that taught her and her sister everything there is to know about music and art, and just like her older sister, she pursued a music career at an early age, being known for her angelic voice. Still, despite her sweet personality and loving persona, Maisie can be very feisty to those who test her patience and wrong her or her loved ones; as she puts it: "my good opinion once lost is lost forever", which makes her susceptible to holding grudges.
Maisie is the youngest of two sisters, having an 11 year age gap with her oldest sister, and she's the aunt of Grace — @4necdote's OC. Grace and her family lost their fortune for a few years due to her sister's music producer taking advantage of them; during this time, Maisie did her best to support and help her family in every way, shape and form, working herself to the bone despite her young age to make sure they were safe and sound. Once her sister fell in love with a good man and got her fortune back, Maisie remembered her childhood dream of falling in love and building her own family, her own romantic fantasies that were once lost and locked deep into her subconscious due to what happened to her family came flooding back into her heart after this. Still, despite this, the damage of what happened to her sister made Maisie more wary of people in general, making her too difficult to please and really picky when it comes to her romantic partners, being scared of opening her heart to most people that weren't her family.
Fun facts: Maisie is a jazz singer, and despite being well-known, she's less famous than her older sister, who's an opera singer; Maisie is often mistaken for being much younger than she actually is, and it's one of her insecurities; Maisie has only had 1 boyfriend despite her age, due to her unrealistic standards, and her first kiss was awful and she prefers to not talk about it please; she's albino
Basic info:
Height: 160cm
Age: 25
Nicknames: Mai (by friends and family), Whiskers and Ribbons (by Fellow)
Birthday: December 11th
Dominant hand: left
Favorite food: sole meunière
Occupation: singer
Hobbies: playing the piano, painting
Homeland: Shaftlands
Unique Magic: [to be added]
Relationships:
Grace ( @4necdote's OC): Maisie is Grace's aunt, but due to their small age gap, Maisie and Grace feel more like two sisters. They're very fond of each other, especially because of the period of time where Maisie had to take care of her family; Grace is often referred to as Maisie's favorite nephew, and Grace is always the one to receive Maisie's clothes when she needs to get rid of her old ones. Maisie usually tries to give Grace advice, and despite her lack of experience, she's usually wonderful at helping Grace with her romantic life, helping her realize her feelings towards Floyd once she complained about the boy to her aunt.
♡ Fellow Honest: because I still need to know more about Fellow due to not knowing the full story of Playful Land, I can't go into detail about their story, however! Fellow and Maisie are exes, him being the only boyfriend she's ever had. His playful demeanor and charming persona managed to sweep her off her feet, and Fellow genuinely fell for Maisie as well... But due to issues relating to Fellow's life, Fellow betrayed her trust and they broke up, but both of them still have strong feelings towards each other.
Gidel: Maisie had, and still has, a soft spot towards Gidel. She sees him as a sweet and wonderful boy, and often encourages him to seek his dreams and grow as a person. Gidel clings to her and views her as an older sister, and because of this he was deeply hurt once they had to part ways due to Fellow and Maisie's breakup.
Vil Schoenheit: after learning he's Grace's housewarden, Maisie keeps an eye out for him in order to know if he treats her nephew well, and upon learning about his personality and how he treats others, Maisie is very pleased with him, even taking an interest in his work and complimenting his acting and singing in the times she manages to see him.
Floyd Leech: Maisie finds Floyd... Interesting, to say the least. Despite this, she can see how much he cares for and loves her nephew, and because of that she gives him his full support, often helping him out and making ways for them to spend time together, much to Grace's dismay.
Sam: Maisie and Sam are childhood friends. They went to school around the same time, and Maisie was a victim of many of Sam's tricks and schemes — although they were all made with light hearted intentions. Although they went to different schools, they saw each other rather frequently and keep in touch even today, Sam sometimes attending her shows and Maisie making sure to advertise his business whenever she can.
Crewel: Maisie met him when she grew up through Sam, and they hit it off right from the get go. They usually talk about fashion together and often shop together when they want to catch up, and at some point, Crewel tried making attempts to flirt with her. Unfortunately, due to still having feelings towards Fellow, Maisie wasn't able to reciprocate, so their relationship is purely platonic, however Crewel wouldn't mind taking her on a date if she ever decided to give him the opportunity.
Character reference:
#💙! maisie#twisted wonderland#twst#oc x canon#NEW OC IN TOWN LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO#*ahem*#twst oc#twisted wonderland oc#art#digital art
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