#you never know how many of your characters don’t actually have a full body reference until the artfight shows up.
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> I prep for artfight with half a month left
> oooh I got plany off time
> does not have plany off time
#Rudy I gotta DRAWWWW SOMETHIN#you never know how many of your characters don’t actually have a full body reference until the artfight shows up.#cotton speaks
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Bitter Ends Turn Sweet in Time
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader
Word Count: 7k+
Summary: There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.
Rating: T
Warnings: Pokémon au (but not 100% true to canon, just elements + some characters), time skips in non-linear manner, fluff, angst, bittersweet ending, storms, language, Reader and Frankie are same age + grow up together, high school au ish(?), inspired by 500 Days of Summer + Song of Achilles' 'name one hero who was happy' scene + this quote by photographer David Alan Harvey:
"Don't shoot what it looks like. Shoot what it feels like."
- Reader has no official name and no physical traits described in detail. However, she is mentioned to have hair, a career, wear a dress (no description), and eat sandwiches
Author Note: I've been wanting to write a Pokémon au for a long, long, long time and I've also been wanting to write a non-linear fic for a long, long, long time as well so this is the result of both those wants combining forces *awkwardly throws it into the universe* It is what it is.
-- all moodboard photos found on pinterest
-- shinx, luxio, luxray // pikachu photo references
Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me through my breakdowns 💜
Day 1,695
Luxray’s a silent wall of black and blue fur for your body to brace against as the sky bleeds a deep shade of orange, and you know he knows. Doesn’t even have to use his x-ray vision to confirm what’s etched into every line of your expression. Anguish—when it’s real and unbearable and deeply-rooted—is impossible to hide. Everyone who looks at you will know.
Everyone except the one pair of brown eyes that’ll never look your way again.
“I’m such an idiot,” you say quietly, and it’s embarrassing how thick the lump of emotion is lodged in your throat. You wipe at your nose with your sleeve. “So damn stupid.”
Luxray lets out a low growl, chiding in nature, as if to say don’t talk shit about yourself.
“He was never going to stay,” you continue, ignoring the vibration rattling your bones. “But I got my hopes up anyways. What we’ve accomplished these last few weeks together, I thought there was a chance…a slim one, you know? That maybe–maybe we could actually stick together this time.”
And you don’t realize you’re crying until Luxray’s twisting his head to nuzzle against your temple, encouraging you to bury your face into the thick fur along his chest and shoulders. With your eyes squeezed shut, you can almost block out the all-encompassing numbness emanating from the cavity your heart used to reside in.
“He’s gone…” you choke out through sobs, grabbing fistfuls of Luxray’s inky black mane. “And I think it’s permanent this time.”
Day 1
The first day of classes at Uva Academy is a whirlwind of meeting teachers, racing from one floor to the next against the clock, and making sure you never lose track of Shinx in the chaos of it all, but when the last bell finally rings, you feel no sting of regret about coming here.
You split a sandwich with Shinx underneath a tree in the school courtyard, brain buzzing with the overload of information absorbed throughout the day. Maybe signing up for a full schedule of classes was a bit excessive, but unlike most of your fellow students who have some semblance of a plan for their futures your next steps are plagued with uncertainty. There are so many paths one can take with their Pokémon—the course of a Trainer, a Coordinator, a Professor, a Ranger, the list goes on and on—you don’t know which direction to take.
When you lock eyes with a boy with brown eyes across the yard, there’s nothing special about the moment. No sparks, no forgetting how to breathe. He’s just a boy with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.
“I saw you in Mr. Jacq’s class,” he says in lieu of a greeting when he draws closer, purple Academy tie loose and crooked around his neck. Recognition stirs in the back of your mind, a flash of dark brown curls towards the back of the room spotted before taking your seat at the front.
Actually, now that you think about it…
“Weren’t you in Ms. Dendra’s class too?” you wonder, passing the last bite of sandwich to Shinx, his little body wiggling eagerly. “And Ms. Raifort’s…?”
“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t really know what I want to do yet.” He scuffs at the ground with his shoe, grin turning a bit crooked at the corner, strangely endearing in its awkwardness. “I figure life’s short, you know? Why not try as many things as you can when you have the chance?”
“Right,” you agree, finding yourself smiling back. “Nothing wrong with making memories.”
"I'm Frankie, by the way."
“Nice to meet you Frankie,” you say, shaking his hand. It’s warm in your grip, firm and secure, thumb grazing over your knuckles. “Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
And so it starts after that—the counting of days. Days when you see him in class, when he smiles at you, when he does homework with you in the library, when he and Pikachu have a battle against you and Shinx–winner buys lunch. It’s a subconscious quirk you keep to yourself. Even after he’s gone, chasing after legends to the far corners of the earth, you still continue counting days.
Days when he crosses your mind. Days when you leave the door unlocked in case he stops by. Days when you swear you catch a whiff of his citrus shampoo on the pillowcase despite the impossibility of it.
There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.
Day 183
“I want my name in one of these books,” he tells you, Ms. Raifort’s assigned reading on the lost explorers of Area Zero spread out in front of him.
You look up from the text, fatalities and disaster and other sharp words with teeth still swimming in your head. “It won’t be easy.”
You’ve only known him six months—long enough to be certain you’ll never meet anyone else like him, but too short to realize the hidden depths of his stubborn ambition.
“No,” he agrees, mouth curling up at the corner, “but it’ll be one hell of a story.”
Day 8
The air is heavy with the sharp, pungent scent of ozone as thunder rumbles overhead. You take in the ominous black clouds, adjusting the hood of your yellow coat to better defend your hair against the pattering raindrops. Doesn’t do much to ward off the chill of the wind though.
Shinx is darting about the meadow in zigzagging lines, wet to the bone and having a blast. Pikachu follows at his heels, electricity sparking from the red circles of her cheeks before fizzling out harmlessly. If there’s any rules to this game they’re playing, you haven’t a clue. Still, their obvious excitement over the weather has you smiling despite the numbness of your toes in soggy shoes.
To your left, Frankie watches the pair of Pokémon nimbly leap over a puddle, studying their graceful movements. His dark hair is flattened against his head, curls beaten into submission, but there’s something in his eyes, a sort of wistfulness that snags your attention like a moth to a flame.
A bolt of lightning burns a gleaming white strip across the gloomy sky, halting Shinx and Pikachu’s play as they elicit squeaks of awe, but you can’t stop looking at Frankie. He’s grinning now, a wide and ecstatic thing with his head tipped back, rain streaming down his face.
“Amazing, isn’t it? Seeing one of nature’s tantrums,” he says, voice low and wonderstruck. “My mother always said it takes someone extra special to train those who can summon such raw, uncontrollable power on cue.”
You’ve never thought of yourself as someone unusual or remarkable. Looking at him though, soaked and shivering and absolutely beaming, you think if anyone’s extra special in this world it’s him.
Day 1,987
It’s a long time before you can look through photos of him without a wound violently tearing open in your chest. Longer still before you can hear his voice on the phone. He calls more often these days, mostly because you’re knee-deep in another mystery and only a little because he misses you, and that’s okay. You can smile at his jokes and it feels real. You can love him and know better than to be in love with him.
You stay busy. You photograph every inch of the nature park on Florio, even convince Professor Mirror to let you take the NEO-ONE to some of Lental’s other islands for further research. You spend hours clicking through photos on your computer, frowning at blurry ones, printing some out for the Professor to take a closer look at as well as a few for your own personal collection of albums.
Your coworker isn’t an intimidating figure by any means, but something about watching him study and scrutinize your pictures never fails to make your hands shake and feet shuffle. Even after all these months, practically living inside each other’s pockets at the Laboratory of Ecology and Natural Sciences (or L.E.N.S. as the Professor affectionately calls it), studying the Illumina phenomenon and all its effects, there’s a part of you still terrified it could all come crashing down.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” Professor Mirror tells you, glaring disapprovingly over the frames of his glasses. It’s not the first time you’ve heard that remark and it won’t be the last either.
“More analyzing the photos and less analyzing me please,” you reply, nodding your head at the small stack in his hands.
He grumbles under his breath, but resumes evaluating the latest shots of your walk along Blushing Beach. There are Wingulls performing loops in the air, an Exeggutor snoozing beneath a palm tree, the splashings of a pair of Corsola playing in the waves. Luxray looking at the contents of a tide pool. A Pikachu eating a fluffruit after you’d scared her by your loud gasp, mistaking her for another of her kind. You don’t mention that tidbit to your coworker though.
That should be the last one, except then Professor Mirror’s letting out a surprised little hum, holding up a photo you never intended anyone else to ever see. Not even the subject. Especially not the subject.
It’s from your sophomore year at Uva Academy. You would call the picture ugly, edges a bit hazy due to your unsteady hands, still learning the tips and tricks of photography, except it’s Frankie. And he’s looking at you behind the lens with a fondness so sweet it makes your teeth hurt, holding a newly evolved Luxio to his chest, with windswept curls your fingers will always long to tame.
You should’ve thrown it out a long time ago. The man in the photo isn’t the same man who will call you later tonight from half a world away just to ask how your day went and if you’re willing to admit you need his help with the Illumina project. But you’ve always been too sentimental for your own good, holding onto things until there are only scraps left, slipping through the gaps of your fingers.
At the very least, you shouldn’t have reorganized your albums so close to your work station.
After what feels like the longest stretch of silence of your life, Professor Mirror finally says, carefully neutral as if wary of provoking a negative reaction, “Someone special, I presume?”
“It’s complicated,” is all you offer in response, snatching the picture back and telling yourself the ache behind your ribcage is a side effect of a papercut.
Day 389
Uva Academy teaches you battle strategies, the effects of Berries and how to better understand your Pokémon amongst other vital lessons to prepare students for a career outside the ancient brick walls and dorm rooms.
It’s Frankie who teaches you how to find beauty in thunderstorms, how to enjoy each day like it’s your last, how to dream a little bit bigger, a little bit bolder—or maybe that’s something you teach each other.
On the weekends you head into the city center together, trying different eateries and watching fellow students challenge each other on the plaza battle court. Afterwards you’ll walk along the cobblestone streets side by side, sometimes discussing classwork or pointing out items in shop windows, but usually the time is spent in companionable silence. Just sharing the same space.
You buy your first camera acting on pure impulse, drawn to it inexplicably and handing over money to the salesman in a matter of minutes. It fits in the palm of your hand, heavy and solid, buttons and knobs staring back at you, waiting to be pressed and manipulated. For the first ten or so minutes of ownership, you simply hold onto the device, studying its shape, its lens, fingertips running over the bumps and grooves.
“Well?” Frankie prompts, gentle voice breaking the silence, brown eyes flicking between your face and the camera. Pikachu echoes the question with a tiny pika?, sensing the fragility of the moment.
“I don’t know what to do,” you answer, shoulders curling with self-consciousness. At your feet, Shinx sits on your shoe and rubs his cheek against your leg comfortingly.
“Well,” he hums, a teasing smile growing on his lips as he presses a button. “Maybe start with turning it on first.”
“Shut up.” You swat at him, but there’s no real heat. “I meant, I don’t know what to take a photo of.”
“It doesn’t matter what the sight is,” Frankie tells you, grabbing hold of your hands and raising them up until the camera’s in front of your face. He steps back and you peek at him through the viewfinder, watching as he spreads his arms out wide with Pikachu still happily perched on his shoulder. “What’s important is how it makes you feel.”
You take a breath, taking a moment to hold the shutter button until it focuses, and then take the photo. No count down, no say cheese!—you simply heed his advice, focusing on how it makes you feel.
The preview screen asks if you’d like to keep the picture or delete it. Your thumb hovers over the buttons.
Focused on the way Frankie’s hair has a golden aura in the light, how Pikachu’s nose scrunches when she’s grinning, you nearly jump out of your skin when he’s suddenly at your side again, wondering, “What do I make you feel, shutterbug?”
Like I’m falling and flying at the same time, you think, quick and startling. A bolt of lightning amongst storm clouds.
You press save.
“Like spending a hundred bucks wasn’t a total mistake.”
Day 448
You take a seat in the cafeteria across from Yovanna and her Sylveon. You’re lucky she shares the same lunch hour as you. Even more lucky she likes you enough to also share her space. Her knack for securing a table each day despite the scrambling rush of hungry students is a gift from the gods. Or maybe it’s a perk of being the president of the Academy’s student council.
“You haven’t stopped smiling for days.” She points with her fork at your grin, a giddy, bubbly thing not even Ms. Tyme’s pop quiz last period could stifle. “Spill it. Who’re you crushing on? Is he a student here? You got a picture?”
“Not with me.” It’s a lie, ever since you bought your camera it’s been glued to your person and there’s always at least one picture of him stored within the device’s gallery of Luxio shots and library aesthetic and other things that make you happy. “He is a student here though.”
Yovanna drops her fork onto her plate, jostling the pieces of fruit waiting to be eaten. Sylveon catches a flying strawberry midair by jumping in her seat and landing neatly on four paws like it’s a regular trick to perform. “Shut up. It’s him, isn’t it?”
You feed Luxio a pickle off your sandwich, neither confirming nor denying.
But your grin does get a little bit impossibly wider.
“Aw man, I owe Santi twenty bucks now.”
Your eyes narrow shrewdly. “Did you seriously make a bet?”
“You two are joined at the hip, of course I did.” Yovanna leans back in her chair, arms behind her head, not a single hint of shame for her actions. “Santi said you’d realize you had feelings for him before winter break. I thought it’d take you until the end of the semester ‘cause you’ve got the self-awareness of a piece of concrete most days.”
“Rude.” She dodges the crumpled napkin you toss at her with a laugh.
“Hey, this is a good development. Now you just gotta keep the momentum going and tell him how you feel. You’re perfect for each other.”
Tucking back into her meal, she misses the brief slip in your smile.
“Yeah.”
Day 8
Ms. Dendra is the only teacher without a classroom, preferring to use the battlefield in the middle of the courtyard for her lessons rather than a whiteboard. She weaves along the line of students with her Medicham, offering suggestions and correcting forms to make the most out of their Pokémons’ moves. You keep one eye on her drawing steadily closer and one on Shinx pawing at the ground, charging up electricity in his forelegs. He still hasn’t mastered thunder shock yet, maybe Ms. Dendra can–
“Storm’s coming tonight,” a voice drawls behind you, a curious blend of casual and enthusiastic.
You turn around, finding Frankie standing there looking up at the sky. The dark gray clouds do seem indicative of bad weather, now that he’s mentioned it. Rain is definitely on its way.
And then he asks, a little sudden, “You ever seen one up close?”
A strange question. Still, you think about it, searching your childhood. All you remember are memories of cowering under the blankets in your bed and playing in puddles the next morning when the monstrous rumbling and harsh flashes had long passed. You’ve seen rain up close, felt the drops on your skin, inhaled the scent of petrichor deep into your lungs. But storms?
“No,” you shake your head, shivering as the temperature seems to drop. “Never.”
He hums, a bland note that could mean anything. At your feet, Shinx and Pikachu sit and stare at each other, little sparks of blue and yellow static crackling in the air between them like morse code.
“No wonder you’re having trouble with your partner. Can’t teach him about electricity when you’ve never seen it in action.”
“That’s not how training works,” you retort defensively. “Also storms aren’t exactly harmless, in case you forgot. They’re loud and dangerous and—”
“Beautiful,” Frankie cuts in with such firm conviction you reel back in surprise. “Absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.” A pause follows, and you hate the smirk that grows on his face, how it taunts you, how it makes his eyes glitter with mischief. “Or maybe not. I could be lying. Only one way to find out for sure.”
A raindrop lands on your cheek. Then another on your arm. And another on your nose. It’s pouring now. Students are complaining about their lesson being interrupted and Ms. Dendra’s shouting for everyone to head back inside. Through it all your eyes remain locked in an intense staring match, neither one willing to surrender.
“Fine,” you reply with a sharp jerk of your chin. “Show me.”
Day 1,448
Your internship with Professor Oak is—good. It’s the start of a brand new chapter in your life, except the last chapter ended on a terrible note and the upcoming pages are terrifyingly blank if you fail to impress your new boss, so. Yeah.
You get along with the Professor’s other intern, a local boy named Will. He teaches you how to drive the ZERO-ONE around the sanctuary. You spend hours out on the trails, memorizing everything about the wild Pokémon who call the island home. You enjoy the assignments Professor Oak gives you, staying busy, filling up albums with photos and journals with research notes.
But when it’s quiet, when you’re staring up at the ceiling waiting for sleep to come…you’ve never felt more lonely in your life. Even with Luxray within reach, loyal and constant, there’s a persistent ache you can’t shake. A loose thread dangling in your mind, tormenting you, and you know if you were to tug on it exactly where it would lead.
Everything leads back to him.
Frankie hasn’t tried to call you. Hasn’t had any contact with you since graduation. Not even a postcard from whatever corner of the world he’s trying to accomplish his dreams.
You haven’t tried to call him either. And yes, it’s true communication is a two-way street, but he’s the one who left and took your heart with him. Why should you give him more of yourself? You hate yourself for even contemplating picking up the phone.
You hate yourself even more for wondering what your relationship would’ve been like if you’d gone with him. If it’d hurt less to just have stayed friends. If you’d been better off never knowing him at all. If, if, if…
Day 485
The problem is, you think your feelings for Frankie are just a little bit stronger than a crush. You’re pretty sure you’re in love with him. Or at least halfway there.
As much as you hate to admit it, Yovanna wasn’t wrong saying you have the self-awareness of a piece of cement. You don’t know for certain if the fluttery Butterfree sensation in your stomach or galloping heartbeat whenever Frankie smiles at you is love. But you are certain he’s gotten under your skin, triggering as many irritations as he is encouraging new ways of growth. You’re a better person, you think, simply by knowing him.
You also think it’s actually kind of scary to imagine something so strong and life-transforming could be anything else but love. Regardless, you hope it stays with you forever. This precious, nameless thing.
It won’t be until many days later—until you know what it’s like to kiss him, and hold his face between your palms, the heat of his breath tingling against your skin; until he’s fluent in myths and legends and fables, swearing he’ll be the one to make them truths and facts and verities; until you can’t picture a future without him in it, not a happy one, at least—you’ll realize you do love him. And he loves you, too, as it turns out.
But nothing lasts forever. Someone’s always got to be the first to let go.
Day 1,375
You receive an offer for an internship with Professor Oak in Pallet Town to help him complete his Pokémon Report by taking photos on a nearby island sanctuary. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime to work with such an esteemed researcher, but thinking about graduation creeping up, about leaving behind this realm of familiarity now that you’ve learned everything Uva Academy has to teach, it’s—moving forward is harder than you anticipate.
It doesn’t help that Frankie's becoming more and more restless, unable to stand still as if it physically pains him to do so. No matter how many walks around the city, how many storms chased after, he’s always looking out towards the horizon, aura so thick with discontentment it’s as if he’s physically cloaked in it.
Lately the only moments he seems to settle within his own skin are when he’s talking with Ms. Raifort, discussing ancient prophecies and ruins scattered around the globe. You don’t understand it, his passionate fascination–no, obsession with mythology. Why not let sleeping dogs lie?
Frankie won’t talk to you about the future, evading the topic like a cunning Nickit. Still you cling to his hand, to hope, to the belief love conquers all, until the morning of graduation he comes to your dorm room and stares over your shoulder rather than meet your gaze. Even Pikachu hides her face in his curls, ears lowered despondently.
You let him in, the beginnings of dread stirring in your stomach, sensing whatever he’s got to say will have irreparable consequences.
“Did you have breakfast yet?” You gesture towards the kitchen, an unspoken can this wait? laced within the question.
“Not feeling very hungry today,” he answers, glancing about the room aimlessly. No, it can’t.
“That’s a first.” You take a seat on the sofa next to Luxray, grounding yourself by stroking a hand along his back. “You gonna tell me what’s on your mind or are you gonna make me guess?”
At that, Frankie finally turns to you, and his torn expression fractures something delicate inside of you, coldness flooding your lungs.
“I’ve been thinking. About us.”
“What about us?”
“I love you.” There’s no sweetness to the words. No tenderness. They are words of blood, of pain, scraping against his throat on their way out. “I’ve loved you from day one and I’ll love you ten thousand more. But what I want, what you want—it’s not the same thing. And it’s only going to hurt the longer we keep pretending otherwise.”
“Stop, please don’t—” your voice cracks, the cold gripping your heart now. Please don’t say it. Please don’t do this. “We’re—we’re good together. You know we are.”
“We were,” he amends, voice so unbearably gentle it’s a jagged blade against your soul. “We were so good. But we’re not ready for what comes next. We’ve become thunder and lightning, one ahead of the other. Our timing is off, shutterbug.”
Day 765
It’s drizzling a little when you return to campus. You shiver in your wet dress, grimacing as you accidentally step in a puddle, thoroughly soaking your flats and bare feet. Hopefully you won’t slip on the stairs and break your neck. That’d be the cherry on top of this disappointing evening.
You just want to shower, put on your comfiest pajamas, and fall asleep as fast as possible.
Except when you reach your floor there’s a figure curled up on the floor outside your door, fast asleep with a snoring Pikachu curled on his chest.
“Hey, sleeping beauty.” You nudge at Frankie’s knee with your wet shoe, raising an eyebrow at him as he jerks awake, blinking rapidly. “What’re you doing here?”
“Oh, you’re back,” he says through a yawn, stretching his arms over his head. Pikachu grunts, displeased at the movement and sounds, and stubbornly curls into a tighter ball, forcing him to cradle her in the nook of his arm as he stands up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just–I wanted to make sure you got back from your date okay. How did it go?”
Your date, Tom, is in Mr. Hassel’s art class with you. He invited you to see a new photography exhibit at the city’s museum. He was nice, if a little overzealous, and seeing lovely displays of art seemed like a better way to spend the evening instead of once again hopelessly pining over your best friend. So, you’d said yes, changed into a nice dress, and swore off any and all yearning.
Except that’s exactly what you ended up doing anyways.
Every time a photo left you breathless, you’d instinctively turn to look for brown eyes that weren’t there. Every joke Tom made you’d compare it to one of Frankie’s. Throughout the entire evening, you couldn’t stop your thoughts drifting back towards the Academy, wondering what he was doing.
You weren’t surprised Tom cut the date short, correctly sensing your heart just wasn’t into it. Still stung a bit though watching him leave you behind to join up with some other classmates hanging out in the plaza.
“Poorly,” you answer with a slight grimace.
“Oh.” Frankie blinks, looking at a loss for additional words. He’s wearing the hoodie he got from his trip to Montenevera over the holiday break and sweatpants, warm and rumpled and cozy, a complete contrast to your entire wardrobe. “Did he–did he hurt you? Because if he did anything inappropriate, I swear–”
“What? No, no, nothing like that happened.” You shake your head, ignoring the flutter of your heartbeat, touched at his protectiveness. He’s still staring at you, and you know he’s not going to let this slide under the rug. “Relax, tough guy. Tom was fine. I was the problem.”
“Tauros shit,” he immediately rejects the notion. “You could never be a problem.”
The hallway feels too hot all of the sudden despite the icy raindrops still clinging to your skin. “That’s sweet,” you say, trying to flash a grin except the muscles in your face refuse to cooperate. It feels stiff. Forced. “You say that to all the girls?”
His mouth tugs upwards into a smile, dimpled and boyish. “Once or twice,” he says, “but I only mean it with you.”
It’s dangerous and stupid to get your hopes up, but there’s something about the quietness, something about his brown eyes and his nearness, that makes you take a leap of faith. Makes you think screw it and reach for his free hand, lacing your fingers together.
“I was the problem,” you tell him softly, watching his expression sober, “because I kept looking for you.”
Silence follows, interrupted by a quiet snore from Pikachu.
Then, just as softly, Frankie says for a second time, “Oh.”
You swallow, feeling like you can’t breathe. “Yeah.”
“Silly girl, you didn’t need to look.” He squeezes your hand, leans in just enough to bump his nose against yours. “I’ve always been here.”
Day 1,375
Later, you won’t remember the particulars of how the rest of the conversation played out. There are words, so many words. Angry and inconsolable, spat out through clenched teeth and pleaded with numb lips. Tears, too. So many damn tears it’s a wonder you don’t drown yourself.
You will remember how he looks at you though. Brown eyes deep and golden, reflecting the morning light streaming through the window. He’s beautiful, and you think that’s the final straw of it all, the definitive proof that even as he’s ripping out your heart you will never feel anything less for him than love.
No passage of time or miles of distance will ever change that. You know this like you know the sun will rise tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that.
Still, this certainty doesn’t stitch up the gaping, bleeding hole in your sternum.
No, that self-healing won’t begin until many, many days later.
Day 610
In another life, if you hadn’t discovered your love of photography, you think you would have been a great astronomer. You know each of the constellations’ names, the best times during the year to spot them, even the tales assigned to them.
Tonight, the night sky is full of stars in every direction you look, not even the distant city lights strong enough to overpower their shine. You lie on your back in the soft meadow grass, hands resting on your stomach, the scent of wildflowers as thick in the air as the fireflies Luxio and Pikachu chase after. To your left, he mimics your pose, except he’s got an arm pillowed under his head, silent except for his breathing.
“There’s Kingler, cursed to hold up his heavy claw for eternity,” you say eventually, raising a hand to trace the starry outline with your fingertip. “Cubone’s next to him, forever mourning his mother.”
He remains silent. You turn your head to look at him, discovering he is deeply absorbed in his thoughts. Physically, you could easily reach out for his hand, but the blankness in his eyes suggests internally he’s half a world away. Somewhere you can’t follow. An irrational spark of jealousy burns hot in your veins, upset your presence isn’t enough of an anchor to keep him locked in the present moment.
You emit a quiet sigh, mentally rolling your eyes at your own childishness, and start to turn back to the sky when his voice catches you off guard, asking, “You ever notice they’re all tragedies?”
“Huh?”
“The myths behind the constellations.” He looks at you then, eyes dim with an emotion you can’t recognize. “Can you name one with a happy ending?”
You think about Pinsir, exiled due to his uncontrollable rage; Koffing, releasing toxic gases as he dies; Dugtrio, punished by an angry Groudon for gouging too many holes in the earth. The list grows longer, the tales grow sadder.
“No,” you say at last. “I guess not.”
He shrugs a shoulder, like it’s nothing, like his next words aren’t going to hurt something fierce. “That’s because happy endings are the biggest myth of all.”
Day 1,375
He kisses you. It is perfect and excruciating all at once. His hand is cupping your cheek, and his touch is so tender and intimately familiar you can’t stop yourself from indulging and it’s cruel of him to leave you like this. Shattered and wanting. Falling and flying.
But when Frankie’s right, he’s right.
This split in your paths has been a long time coming. You’d just refused to read the writing on the wall, content to keep counting the days, pretending the number would stretch on into infinity.
Infinity is just another word for forever though.
And there’s truth in that old saying: when you love someone—
“I love you,” he says again at the door. His eyes drift over your face, as if memorizing every detail. “And I’m proud of you. Remember that.” There’s the briefest of glimpses of tears in his eyes before he’s wrapping you in a hug, so tight your ribs painfully protest. You savor every second of it. “This isn’t the last of us. We’ll meet again, I swear it. One day, shutterbug.”
—you let them go.
Day 1,669
You’ve been dreading his arrival, dreading how he might look at you. What might be different. What, if anything, might be the same.
All communication thus far has been directly with Professor Oak. You haven’t heard a single peep even though your number’s stayed the same. Even though you know he knows you’re here.
Luxray stays close as the hour draws closer, trying to soothe your nervous energy. You stroke his mane, eyes flicking between your computer, the window, and then back again. The cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for you to finish adding the last details to the report you’ve been developing on the Pokémon signs you and Will discovered. Bizarre occurrences where the environment manifests the likeness of specific Pokémon—always the same ones in the same places. But why they existed and what they meant remained unsolved mysteries robbing you of sleep.
It had been the Professor's idea to invite another set of eyes to examine the clues after months of no solid progress. For every one step made forward it felt like the universe would shove you five steps backwards, the hidden connection remaining just out of your reach.
If you had known Professor Oak and Ms. Raifort were old friends, that she would’ve recommended her favorite pupil…well, you’re not sure if anything would’ve really changed. What fate wants, fate gets one way or another.
Frankie arrives at eventide, bringing the warmth of the fading sun into the lab with him. He looks…unchanged. Maybe a little broader, thicker with muscle from his journeys. But still familiar in all the ways that matter. You wonder if the same can be said for yourself.
He’s looking at you, and it’s—it’s less painful than you expected. No tight band wrapped around your middle, no spontaneous bursting of tears. He’s just a man with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.
“Hey shutterbug,” he says, and it feels abruptly like slow motion, like you’re watching through someone else’s eyes as he comes closer, closer, closer and pulls you into a tight embrace. His arms are just as strong as you remember them, memories of graduation screaming in the back of your mind and you’re in your dorm room again watching him walk out of your life with your heart in tow.
You want to…
(kiss him, hit him, hold him, scream at him)
You want too many things.
“Hey,” you echo lamely as he pulls back. If Frankie hears the faintest of quivers in your voice, he thankfully doesn’t show a sign of it. You shoot a small grin at Pikachu, mouth stretching wider when she returns it with a cheerful pika pi, waving her paw. “Ready to help solve a mystery?”
“I always wanted to make history.” He’s smirking that same damn smirk, an intense pang of nostalgia striking you. Your fingers twitch, wishing you had your camera. “But I think it’s better this way, yeah?”
“What way?”
Distantly, you’re aware of Professor Oak and Will watching the conversation ping-ponging back and forth, both smart enough to pick up on the unspoken something between you and Frankie.
“Making history together,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “We make a good team, you and I.”
The words bounce around inside your head for a moment. A good team. Is that all we are? is what you want to ask, but the answer’s a double-edged sword shoved between your ribs no matter how he phrases it.
So you swallow the question down and bury it.
“C’mon,” you gesture towards your computer, “I’ll show you what we’ve got so far.”
Day 128
Winter sweeps in, all frigid winds and frosted windows. Together you stay at the Academy during the holiday break. It’s days of no homework, snowball fights, and parka coats. Nights spent by the fireplace, hot chocolates topped with whipped cream, wishing you could bottle these memories in a jar and keep them on a shelf.
If Frankie knew about it, he would say Jirachi heard your wish, but it’s your opinion that fate’s just got a funny sense of humor. Either way, a few years down the line you’ll have the collection of memories you desired, almost all of them starring him. They won’t be kept in fragile jars, but in captured photographs unaffected by the withering flow of time. Little glimpses of a happy life, and how much you've lost.
Day 2,000
You kiss Frankie on the front deck of the L.E.N.S. the night before he’s scheduled to leave. It’s stupid and impulsive, but he’s just right there in front of you, bathed in starlight and high off the elation that comes with solving another Pokémon mystery, further securing his place amongst the pages of historic exploration, a legend in his own lifetime, and there’s no thoughts in your head so—you kiss him.
It isn’t your first kiss, but it feels like something new. He’s got stubble now, you’re wearing a lab coat—little details of proof you’re far from the kids you used to be. He smells the same though, like coffee and evergreens and fresh rain. The quiet, awed exhale of your name, like you’re something wonderful, something mythical come true, is the same too.
And for the briefest of moments, you can almost imagine you’re together again.
But in the end it’s just a kiss, not a time machine.
Day 1,762
“For someone with a new career, you don’t look very excited,” Will says, knocking his shoulder against yours good-naturedly. You try to summon up a smile, but it isn’t fooling anyone.
Professor Oak’s treating you both to a fancy dinner at a restaurant you can’t pronounce the name of, celebrating the news of your new job as an official field research photographer working alongside Professor Mirror in Florio. It’s an amazing step forward, resulting from the success of the Rainbow Cloud discovery with Frankie, certain to give your name another added boost of recognition in the photography community.
“I am,” you say, remembering how you’d nearly passed out when you received the offer. Another attempt at a grin yields better results. “It’s gonna be great.”
Will tilts his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “You’re thinking about him. Again.”
“Not intentionally.” Your lips curl into a rueful grimace, fingers twisting together in your lap. “He just…never leaves my thoughts.”
Frankie told you before he left he didn’t have a home, not anymore, too much of a restless spirit to stay in one place. You wonder if his answer would be different, if he knew it’s been 1,762 days and every one of them he’s spent occupying your head.
“Even when he’s gone and left you behind?” From anyone else, the question would’ve been harsh, but your friend’s eyes are kind, full of empathy.
There’s a second where you contemplate lying, but you can’t. Not to him, and not to yourself.
“Especially then.”
Day 2,000
“Sorry.” It comes out of your mouth stilted—not because you don’t mean it, but because your heart’s beating like a thunderstorm. A wildness you haven’t felt in years.
“I’ve never needed an apology from you.” Frankie looks at you softly, the brown of his eyes getting lost in the dark. “Two thousand. Can you believe it? Seems like just yesterday I watched you walk into class.”
You forget sometimes that he’s the sentimental type too when it comes to those he cares about. It’s why he doesn’t give Pikachu a Thunderstone, and why he only knows how to play one song on a guitar, his mother’s favorite. How sweet it is, to learn he must care about you to keep count, maybe even love you a little bit still.
“Frankie,” you start, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder. His nearness is a comfort as much as it is a distraction, but this conversation is long overdue by hundreds of days. “What are we?”
“You tell me.” A hand comes to rest on your waist, a searing brand through the fabric of your clothes. “What do you want us to be?”
You think about the question for a long moment, wondering what words pack enough meaning to give the answer it deserves.
What you want is another storm to chase, another constellation to trace. What you want is for your hands to brush during walks, never having to hear his voice on the end of a phone again because he’s right there by your side. What you want is everything that once was to align in perfect harmony with the immediate now.
“I want us to be together.”
“We are.”
“No, we’re not,” you murmur, staring down at the mud stains on his boots.
“Listen, shutterbug,” his hands move to your head, one tilting up your chin and the other gently palming your neck, forcing you to meet his gaze, “a lot can happen in two thousand days–”
“I know, I know.”
His fingers spasm, like he’s resisting the urge to tug on your hair, eyes sharpening at the interruption. “A lot can happen in two thousand days,” he repeats, and you hear it this time, the heavy weight in his tone. Rarely is he this serious. “We’ve changed, we’ve grown, we’ve been on opposite ends of the earth from each other. But tonight, of all places, I’m here and you’re here.”
And maybe it really is that simple. People say lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but twice now you’ve watched him go and twice he’s been brought back to you.
You reach up, wrapping your hands around his wrists, holding him there. “Do you think we’ll ever be what we were?”
“No.” He steps impossibly closer, lips brushing against your forehead. “I think one day we’ll be better.”
Better, you mouth the word. It feels like a promise, like a turning point.
“Yeah, one day,” you agree, heartbeat steadying, matching the rhythm of his beneath your fingertips. “It’ll be worth the wait.”
#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#triple frontier fanfiction#pedrostories#my fic#my writing#frankie morales
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Ok I’m going on anon because I’m pretty supportive on SMAU posts and I have been reading awhile. The author of that post talks about specifically Asian women, however in my time reading fic across multiple kpop and pop culture fandoms,I have seen white, black, latinx, desi, east/west asian face claims (yay diversity I guess?) though specifically east asian women are used as face claims more in kpop fics (not always though, I have seen the whole spectrum). I think you’re right that using someone’s face is a little touchy. And yes. For kids—minors in general—that’s a full on no. You can post a pic of baby shoes or something. There are plenty of free/no copyright/fair use photos online of like a smaller kid hand holding and bigger hand or something like that where it’s an image intended for use in multiple ways and no one’s identity is compromised.
I know a lot of kpop fics and other genres use either female kpop idols or actresses as their face claim as well. I kinda feel like that’s maybe less problematic? (Especially since we are already using the male kpop idols as face claims and name claims for what are technically our OCs) Those are public figures and their images are publicly shared to promote content and content creation. I guess I’m saying an author could always use like one of the NewJeans girls as a face claim. I mean if I was writing a SMAU about Karina then maybe I would use Sunghoon or Hee as a face claim (no idol shipping for me—strictly face claim). So I guess I’m saying if an author is wanting to use a face then…maybe just use another idol? Or an actress? Though some people make the same argument about influencers. That they can use their images because they are also posted online for a large audience? I personally don’t know where the line is (except with kid’s faces—that’s a clear no) and since I don’t write SMAU… But if I did… I would probably use a kpop idol or an actress as my face claim—IF I even chose to have one. (I know some people get really touchy about face claims in general though because…I mean no matter who your face claim is—even if it’s a pic of YOU the author—putting a specific face and a body to yn is less ‘reader insert’ for some readers. I mean it has never bothered me one bit, even in writing if there are distinctive features described—to me it’s just a story—but some people do get truly upset.)
i'm the author of that post just to clarify!! i just screenshot that from my twitter, but that's very true there's definitely more diversity in the face claims people use out there, i just think east asian face claims are more widely used in kpop and anime spaces maybe 🤧 diversity rep is great i just wish we could move towards more faceless ones?? idk just publicly posting people's faces in certain contexts just feels a little like an invasion of privacy but i'm sure people feel different ways toward that
and i agree in the context of smaus i think it makes more sense to use an idol/celebrity as a face claim !! i sort of see face claims as like casting someone in a role, so it makes more sense to use actors/idols who are already in the spotlight and have their pictures spread on the internet because their career depends on exposure and publicity (unless of course said actor/idol has stated that they don't want their face being used for such things). i was referring to a different sort of fic actually (not smaus) but yeah smaus could be a gray area too and i feel like the same rules should apply. i've read plenty of twitter social media aus where no selfies/pictures are used at all even from the idol and they've been some the best smaus i've read
children/babies are a hard no for me :( there's just so many ways to go about it without inserting a child's face,, so i rlly don't get it !! oh yes i've never exactly cared about how a reader insert looks because i always just imagine a character anyways but the privacy issue of whoever's the face claim is my main concern with it 🧎♀️
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Naruto Fanfic Recs
A great crack OC/SI-insert. I just wish there was more!
Summary:
Being somehow reincarnated into a world you previously thought was fictional and is filled with bullshit ninja magic killers isn't fun. It is even less fun to find out that any foreknowledge you may have been able to use to your advantage is pretty much as useless as your ability to quote pop culture references like a champ.
Preview:
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, and very, very far away, I did not have to deal with this shit. This kind of language may shock you, but while I look like an adorable eight year old, in actuality I have almost twenty eight years of experience and the temperament of a crotchety old man. If I had a lawn – oh man you can bet no one would be stepping on it.
I raise a darkly tanned hand to the sunlight and sigh, blowing a wisp of blue hair out of my face. I had initially been overjoyed upon realizing that I had maintained a relatively similar skin tone to my original body. My curly hair also returned for a second round. But, of course, I cannot have nice things.
I may be in an anime, but my hair color is just ridiculous. I have blue hair. When I say blue, I mean blindingly bright HEY I’M RIGHT HERE CAN YOU SEE ME I will burn out your eyes aqua blue. Not even the nice shade of blue main characters get. It is pretty awful. And with this whole ninja gig it’s probably gonna get me killed.
Oh, yes. Ninjas.
Lucky me, I was reborn in the Narutoverse. Apparently. Huzzah.
Honestly, this was not a hit my already waning sanity could really afford. Not only was I pushed on into reincarnation instead of facing the pearly gates, but I found out I was spit out into a supposedly fictional world.
I mean, after a couple months of my baby self drooling all over myself, I could kinda get over it. The whole “reincarnation” thing. Well, as long as I never think about my family, all my friends-
-painpainwhyaretheygonecomeback-
-Yeah. As in, can’t think about that at all. Ever.
…Hm, where were we?
Ah, yes. Basically, I can get over the whole “reincarnated” part. Not so much the whole “living in a military state that fully endorses the use of child soldiers and freedom is a thing of the past” part. I am an American. I was practically suckled on the sweet nectar of freedom.
(I may no longer take myself or life in general seriously. If you hadn’t guessed.)
One must also consider the blazingly ridiculous things that happen to this world. I could only stomach so much bunny goddess before I was out. Like, how would I even go about fighting half of these things without OP to the max abilities? Well I’m not planning on it, so I suppose it’s a moot point.
To put this in perspective, while it has some relative good points, I really dislike most of the Leaf’s dictatorship, freedom sucking, shove-you-full-of-propaganda self. My life is in ruin.
I sigh again and gaze at my elevated hand, “Poor Yorick. Alas, alas.”
Hm. What was the rest of that quote?
I hear a sigh, “Miki-kun, please stop interrupting class.”
I look up and see Iruka-sensei staring at me, his gaze slightly pained. His hand is frozen half-way in his now habitual motion of massaging the bridge of his nose. Ah, that poor man. He is some of most fun I have in this life. I can’t help but feel a bit bad though. The only other kid that gets his blood pressure this worked up in Naruto.
Even then he tends to resort straight to yelling with that one. I can tell he doesn’t know how to deal with me. I’m too out of the norm from what he’s used to. My personality, or mostly my seeming babbling words, tends to put most people off kilter. I don’t make many friends this way. But I also tend to be able to do whatever the hell I want without much censure. Are you going to talk sense into crazy?
I blink guilelessly, my arm still posed in the air, seeming to be ignorant to the stares of the whole class. The kid next to me slowly scoots away. I say, “Ah, sensei, I am very sorry. I’m sure no one could concentrate, that having been such a half hearted recital. Perhaps again…”
I sit up straight as if to project my words, but only get out an “Ala-” (ah, now that I think of it, “Alas” goes first, right?) before being cut off.
“NO, no, that’s just- fine. Miki-kun. Please keep further comments in your head unless they are related to class.”
The rest of the class laughs as I bob my head complacently. I consider the pros of telling him why the works of Shakespeare are relevant to all matters of life, but decide not to push him. Iruka-sensei is a good guy all things considered. I don’t like to mess with him too much.
Too much.
He goes on to lecture about whatever this class is on. I think I’m in history. It would be super interesting if the amount of propaganda being shoved down my throat didn’t make me want to choke. Like, this is North Korea level of censorship right here. I’m kinda surprised we don’t pray to the first Hokage, given how much he’s propped up in our books. To the point he is literally called the god of shinobi. Then again, I guess the appointment of real Ninja God goes to the Sage.
I mean, it’s not that I think all the facts in this damn book are straight wrong. If Konoha wins (we always win), it’s recorded as a win. If we lose (Konoha has a history of very few tactical retreats), we lose. This happened then. These institutions were established here. The spin they put on everything is what makes me dizzy.
“The honorable first Hokage singlehandedly brought the entire world of shinobi out of the dark ages. He established Konoha and brought prosperity to the land, making a safe haven for all of her citizens. Now it is your turn to uphold the First’s Will of Fire and keep Konoha safe for the generations to come. Blah, blah, blah.”
Come on, the textbooks tell you to do things. This is not even trying to look like unbiased learning. It hurts us.
Most of the cultural and historical stuff goes like this in every book available to civilians and academy students. I can’t vouch for stuff available to ninja level, but it’s overall disappointing. Having been an International Studies major, cultural stuff is kinda what I do. Did. Whatever.
I can piece stuff together from what I knew previously and what I can get wading through politically charged texts, but it’s not easy going. If I had been a Clan Kid I may have been able to get my dirty paws on some choice info, but no such luck. You’re looking at an Oliver Twist. Olivia Twist? I still can’t quite grasp the state of gender equality here. Kunoichi are generally badass, but a significantly less amount fill out the forces. In fact-
I’m ripped from my musings by the ring of the bell. The kids quickly fling themselves from their seats and run to the door, ignoring whatever Iruka is trying to yell over them. The kid next to me seems particularly eager. I casually take a look at my hand and see that I had accidentally been carving pieces of wood from my desk. Again. Oops. Time to go before sensei notices.
I push my hands against my mutilated desk and attempt to casually mosey my way to the door. I skip down the steps, not trying particularly hard to avoid the stragglers. I take a glance at Iruka out of the corner of my eye. My inattention causes me to bump into someone. Red fills my sight.
Small hands quickly push me away, causing me to stumble. Bright blue eyes glare into my brown ones, and a sharp tooth scowl fills my vision. “Hey, watch where you’re going!” Uzumaki Naruto growls at me, his spiky red hair disheveled.
Ah yes, did I forget to mention that Naruto has red hair and the plot is shot to hell and back?
Silly me.
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Like so many fans of Wicked, Ariana Grande was just a kid—10 years old, to be exact—when she saw the Broadway show for the first time, and it immediately imprinted itself on her. “I loved it to death,” she says. “I know my life in two chapters: before seeing Wicked and after seeing Wicked; before seeing Harry Potter, after seeing Harry Potter. And”—she adds with a laugh—“before Little Antonio, after Little Antonio.” The latter is a reference to her performance in the viral SNL sketch “Castrati,” in which she played a young boy with a bowl haircut who’s able to hit the highest of notes after being castrated. Beyond having a once-in-a-generation voice and two Grammy wins under her belt, Grande, now 31, is famously a master of impressions—particularly of people and characters she adores, from Celine Dion and Jennifer Coolidge to Shakira and Hermione Granger. But for Wicked, she was determined not to merely impersonate Kristin Chenoweth—who originated the role of Glinda in the original Broadway production—or any Glindas who came before her, for that matter. Instead, she and Cynthia Erivo, as Elphaba, made the characters distinctly their own. Now they’re up for Golden Globe awards—with Oscar nods for both well within reach.I know you loved Wicked as a child, but did you also love The Wizard of Oz?Yes! I used to sit in front of the TV in my little gingham dress and study Judy Garland’s body movements, how she held herself and Toto. My first impersonation may have been Judy Garland. I’ve always had a fascination with sounds and tones and different accents—my first memory is singing with my mom in the car to Barbra Streisand or *NSYNC or “Over the Rainbow.” I don't remember a time when singing wasn't a part of my life. Strangely, I remember watching The Wizard of Oz in the gingham dress paired with a Scream mask.Why the mask?It was my creative vision for it. I said, "I need to put a spin on this and wear it with a Jason mask or a Scream mask" or something. But I was a huge musical fan in general. This is kind of controversial to say, but I loved Avenue Q, even though it won the Tony for Best Musical over Wicked. But Wicked, of course, is my number one.So how did Wicked the movie come into your life?I heard little murmurs of, "Oh, they might start auditioning people for the movie sometime soon." That was actually three or four years before my first audition. I remember asking my team to check in every now and then and say, "Hey, is this happening? Because if it is, she will pull the plug on just about anything and begin training and vocal lessons." Train my voice to sing the operatic bits, and get into acting lessons to make sure that all my tools are available to me when I need them to transition back over into being an actress, so that I could earn it. Because what was most important to me was that I earned it. I wanted to do the work.How did you feel when they told you that you got the part?I have never in my life felt the way I did when I found out that I got the role of Glinda in the film. I thought, Everything’s going to be okay forever now.Did you scream?I sobbed. And then we got to do the work!You’re credited as Ariana Grande-Butera in the film. What compelled you to use your full name?It was a decision that I made because this whole experience truly felt like a homecoming to little Ariana. I wanted to capture it. Also, Grande is my mom's last name; Butera is my father's last name. This feels like the most important, full-circle thing I've ever done, so I wanted to have them both be a part of this.What was your first acting gig?I was the bumblebee in a school play. I spontaneously did a bit onstage that I didn't ask the teacher permission to do. I ripped the stinger off of my costume and stung one of my fellow actors. I had to have been around 5 or 6.Grande wears Swarovski bra tops and earrings. Do you get starstruck?Imogen Heap is my idol—my number one favorite musician, songwriter, producer of all time. The first time I got a message from her, I thought I was being catfished. She invited me over, and I thought I was going to be murdered because I didn’t believe it was real. She was so nice. She’s brilliant in every way.What was your first red carpet outfit?A little green minidress. It was the premiere of Fantastic Mr. Fox, and I had bright red hair because I was on Victorious at the time. I had a little cat eye because even then I loved that. I remember being really proud that I was invited to anything at all, but also thinking, This is so weird! Why do we do this? Why is this a thing? I'm able to have fun with it now.Is there a movie that makes you cry?The Waterboy, with Adam Sandler, makes me cry. When they're mean to Bobby Boucher, I cry. I don't like it. I love Bobby Boucher. He says,“Would you please still be my friend?” and I lose it. But I cry at everything.Do you think you're more like a cat or a dog?I think I have both in me. My sun is in dog, and my rising is in cat. Just because cats are so boundaried, and I have a little bit of boundaries too now, but I have the openness and emotional availability of a dog. So I have the emotional landscape of a dog, but with the boundaries of a cat.And you land on your feet. Do you like Halloween? What was your favorite Halloween costume?I love Halloween. My best friend, Liz Gillies, and I take Halloween pretty seriously. One year we did Showgirls, which was a favorite. The other favorite was Best in Show. I was Eugene Levy. I had two left feet, and I put gum in my Invisalign and stuffed it up so my teeth looked crazy. We hired dogs—a beautiful terrier to play Winky. I got lost in the sauce, and you couldn’t tell it was me at all.Do you have a favorite reality show?Probably Love Is Blind. That series is just fantastic to me.Do you have faith that the people will stay together?Of course, I do. Some of them do. I check sometimes. I'll go to Instagram and find these people and make sure they're still together. I need to know what's happening.What’s your astrological sign?I am a Cancer.And what are Cancers like?Cancers are watery, emotional, and open-hearted and creative. We like to be home and cozy and warm.You have a shell.Yes, we have a shell. But mine's a soft shell. I feel like you can see through it and there's a lot of openness that leads the way. But it's there. You earn your way in, and you get to stay.Hair by Gabor Kerekes at Milton Agency; makeup by Michael Anthony for R.E.M. Beauty at Opus Beauty.Style Director: Allia Alliata di Montereale. Hair for portfolio by Paul Hanlon at Dawes & Co.; makeup for portfolio by Sam Visser at Art Partner; manicures for portfolio by Michelle Saunders James. Set design by Gerard Santos at Lalaland.Creative producer to Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott: Leonard Cuinet-Petit at January Productions; producer to Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott: Kevin Isabelle; produced by AP Studio, Inc.; executive producer: Alexis Piqueras; producer: Anneliese Kristedja; associate producer: Kimmy D’Ancona; production manager: Hayley Stephon; production coordinators: Miranda Dos Santos, Susan Lucas; photography assistants: John Neate, Jed Barnes, Chris Whitaker, Kendall Peck; digital technician: Niccolo Pacilli; digital assistant: Cassian Gray; postproduction by Dreamer Post Production; fashion assistants: Tyler VanVranken, Molly Cody, Celeste Roh, Raea Palmieri, Tatiana Isshac, Haleigh Nickerson, Lauren Marron, Savannah Steilner, Sage McKee, Frankie Benkovic, Kaley Azambuja, Tatum Sanchez; production assistants: Gigi Rosenfield, Lily Cordingley, Eli Cash, Lex Vaughn, Anderson Renno, Kat Saravia, Kyle Dekker, Wyatt Noble, Brandon Martin, Moose Krupski, Josh Muwwakkil, Bradley Gonsalves, Drew Carter, Thomas Lynch, Alex Kofman, Jackson Schrader, Anatalia Zavaleta, Joseph Wride, Matt Flynn; first AD: Steve Kemp; location manager: Kyle Hollinger; hair assistants: Kim Garduno, Ben Gregory, Marco Iafrate, Hyacinthia Faustino, Chris Foster; makeup assistants: Shimu Takanori, Laura Dudley, Brian Dean, Beatrice Sandoval; manicure assistant: Cheyenne Vander Schuur; set design assistants: Seth Powsner, Denver Stoddard, Ryan Johnson; tailors: Irina Tshartaryan, Ripsime Vartanyan, Jackie Martirosyan at Susie’s Custom Designs, Inc. 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Like so many fans of Wicked, Ariana Grande was just a kid—10 years old, to be exact—when she saw the Broadway show for the first time, and it immediately imprinted itself on her. “I loved it to death,” she says. “I know my life in two chapters: before seeing Wicked and after seeing Wicked; before seeing Harry Potter, after seeing Harry Potter. And”—she adds with a laugh—“before Little Antonio, after Little Antonio.” The latter is a reference to her performance in the viral SNL sketch “Castrati,” in which she played a young boy with a bowl haircut who’s able to hit the highest of notes after being castrated. Beyond having a once-in-a-generation voice and two Grammy wins under her belt, Grande, now 31, is famously a master of impressions—particularly of people and characters she adores, from Celine Dion and Jennifer Coolidge to Shakira and Hermione Granger. But for Wicked, she was determined not to merely impersonate Kristin Chenoweth—who originated the role of Glinda in the original Broadway production—or any Glindas who came before her, for that matter. Instead, she and Cynthia Erivo, as Elphaba, made the characters distinctly their own. Now they’re up for Golden Globe awards—with Oscar nods for both well within reach.I know you loved Wicked as a child, but did you also love The Wizard of Oz?Yes! I used to sit in front of the TV in my little gingham dress and study Judy Garland’s body movements, how she held herself and Toto. My first impersonation may have been Judy Garland. I’ve always had a fascination with sounds and tones and different accents—my first memory is singing with my mom in the car to Barbra Streisand or *NSYNC or “Over the Rainbow.” I don't remember a time when singing wasn't a part of my life. Strangely, I remember watching The Wizard of Oz in the gingham dress paired with a Scream mask.Why the mask?It was my creative vision for it. I said, "I need to put a spin on this and wear it with a Jason mask or a Scream mask" or something. But I was a huge musical fan in general. This is kind of controversial to say, but I loved Avenue Q, even though it won the Tony for Best Musical over Wicked. But Wicked, of course, is my number one.So how did Wicked the movie come into your life?I heard little murmurs of, "Oh, they might start auditioning people for the movie sometime soon." That was actually three or four years before my first audition. I remember asking my team to check in every now and then and say, "Hey, is this happening? Because if it is, she will pull the plug on just about anything and begin training and vocal lessons." Train my voice to sing the operatic bits, and get into acting lessons to make sure that all my tools are available to me when I need them to transition back over into being an actress, so that I could earn it. Because what was most important to me was that I earned it. I wanted to do the work.How did you feel when they told you that you got the part?I have never in my life felt the way I did when I found out that I got the role of Glinda in the film. I thought, Everything’s going to be okay forever now.Did you scream?I sobbed. And then we got to do the work!You’re credited as Ariana Grande-Butera in the film. What compelled you to use your full name?It was a decision that I made because this whole experience truly felt like a homecoming to little Ariana. I wanted to capture it. Also, Grande is my mom's last name; Butera is my father's last name. This feels like the most important, full-circle thing I've ever done, so I wanted to have them both be a part of this.What was your first acting gig?I was the bumblebee in a school play. I spontaneously did a bit onstage that I didn't ask the teacher permission to do. I ripped the stinger off of my costume and stung one of my fellow actors. I had to have been around 5 or 6.Grande wears Swarovski bra tops and earrings. Do you get starstruck?Imogen Heap is my idol—my number one favorite musician, songwriter, producer of all time. The first time I got a message from her, I thought I was being catfished. She invited me over, and I thought I was going to be murdered because I didn’t believe it was real. She was so nice. She’s brilliant in every way.What was your first red carpet outfit?A little green minidress. It was the premiere of Fantastic Mr. Fox, and I had bright red hair because I was on Victorious at the time. I had a little cat eye because even then I loved that. I remember being really proud that I was invited to anything at all, but also thinking, This is so weird! Why do we do this? Why is this a thing? I'm able to have fun with it now.Is there a movie that makes you cry?The Waterboy, with Adam Sandler, makes me cry. When they're mean to Bobby Boucher, I cry. I don't like it. I love Bobby Boucher. He says,“Would you please still be my friend?” and I lose it. But I cry at everything.Do you think you're more like a cat or a dog?I think I have both in me. My sun is in dog, and my rising is in cat. Just because cats are so boundaried, and I have a little bit of boundaries too now, but I have the openness and emotional availability of a dog. So I have the emotional landscape of a dog, but with the boundaries of a cat.And you land on your feet. Do you like Halloween? What was your favorite Halloween costume?I love Halloween. My best friend, Liz Gillies, and I take Halloween pretty seriously. One year we did Showgirls, which was a favorite. The other favorite was Best in Show. I was Eugene Levy. I had two left feet, and I put gum in my Invisalign and stuffed it up so my teeth looked crazy. We hired dogs—a beautiful terrier to play Winky. I got lost in the sauce, and you couldn’t tell it was me at all.Do you have a favorite reality show?Probably Love Is Blind. That series is just fantastic to me.Do you have faith that the people will stay together?Of course, I do. Some of them do. I check sometimes. I'll go to Instagram and find these people and make sure they're still together. I need to know what's happening.What’s your astrological sign?I am a Cancer.And what are Cancers like?Cancers are watery, emotional, and open-hearted and creative. We like to be home and cozy and warm.You have a shell.Yes, we have a shell. But mine's a soft shell. I feel like you can see through it and there's a lot of openness that leads the way. But it's there. You earn your way in, and you get to stay.Hair by Gabor Kerekes at Milton Agency; makeup by Michael Anthony for R.E.M. Beauty at Opus Beauty.Style Director: Allia Alliata di Montereale. Hair for portfolio by Paul Hanlon at Dawes & Co.; makeup for portfolio by Sam Visser at Art Partner; manicures for portfolio by Michelle Saunders James. Set design by Gerard Santos at Lalaland.Creative producer to Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott: Leonard Cuinet-Petit at January Productions; producer to Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott: Kevin Isabelle; produced by AP Studio, Inc.; executive producer: Alexis Piqueras; producer: Anneliese Kristedja; associate producer: Kimmy D’Ancona; production manager: Hayley Stephon; production coordinators: Miranda Dos Santos, Susan Lucas; photography assistants: John Neate, Jed Barnes, Chris Whitaker, Kendall Peck; digital technician: Niccolo Pacilli; digital assistant: Cassian Gray; postproduction by Dreamer Post Production; fashion assistants: Tyler VanVranken, Molly Cody, Celeste Roh, Raea Palmieri, Tatiana Isshac, Haleigh Nickerson, Lauren Marron, Savannah Steilner, Sage McKee, Frankie Benkovic, Kaley Azambuja, Tatum Sanchez; production assistants: Gigi Rosenfield, Lily Cordingley, Eli Cash, Lex Vaughn, Anderson Renno, Kat Saravia, Kyle Dekker, Wyatt Noble, Brandon Martin, Moose Krupski, Josh Muwwakkil, Bradley Gonsalves, Drew Carter, Thomas Lynch, Alex Kofman, Jackson Schrader, Anatalia Zavaleta, Joseph Wride, Matt Flynn; first AD: Steve Kemp; location manager: Kyle Hollinger; hair assistants: Kim Garduno, Ben Gregory, Marco Iafrate, Hyacinthia Faustino, Chris Foster; makeup assistants: Shimu Takanori, Laura Dudley, Brian Dean, Beatrice Sandoval; manicure assistant: Cheyenne Vander Schuur; set design assistants: Seth Powsner, Denver Stoddard, Ryan Johnson; tailors: Irina Tshartaryan, Ripsime Vartanyan, Jackie Martirosyan at Susie’s Custom Designs, Inc. 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Like so many fans of Wicked, Ariana Grande was just a kid—10 years old, to be exact—when she saw the Broadway show for the first time, and it immediately imprinted itself on her. “I loved it to death,” she says. “I know my life in two chapters: before seeing Wicked and after seeing Wicked; before seeing Harry Potter, after seeing Harry Potter. And”—she adds with a laugh—“before Little Antonio, after Little Antonio.” The latter is a reference to her performance in the viral SNL sketch “Castrati,” in which she played a young boy with a bowl haircut who’s able to hit the highest of notes after being castrated. Beyond having a once-in-a-generation voice and two Grammy wins under her belt, Grande, now 31, is famously a master of impressions—particularly of people and characters she adores, from Celine Dion and Jennifer Coolidge to Shakira and Hermione Granger. But for Wicked, she was determined not to merely impersonate Kristin Chenoweth—who originated the role of Glinda in the original Broadway production—or any Glindas who came before her, for that matter. Instead, she and Cynthia Erivo, as Elphaba, made the characters distinctly their own. Now they’re up for Golden Globe awards—with Oscar nods for both well within reach.I know you loved Wicked as a child, but did you also love The Wizard of Oz?Yes! I used to sit in front of the TV in my little gingham dress and study Judy Garland’s body movements, how she held herself and Toto. My first impersonation may have been Judy Garland. I’ve always had a fascination with sounds and tones and different accents—my first memory is singing with my mom in the car to Barbra Streisand or *NSYNC or “Over the Rainbow.” I don't remember a time when singing wasn't a part of my life. Strangely, I remember watching The Wizard of Oz in the gingham dress paired with a Scream mask.Why the mask?It was my creative vision for it. I said, "I need to put a spin on this and wear it with a Jason mask or a Scream mask" or something. But I was a huge musical fan in general. This is kind of controversial to say, but I loved Avenue Q, even though it won the Tony for Best Musical over Wicked. But Wicked, of course, is my number one.So how did Wicked the movie come into your life?I heard little murmurs of, "Oh, they might start auditioning people for the movie sometime soon." That was actually three or four years before my first audition. I remember asking my team to check in every now and then and say, "Hey, is this happening? Because if it is, she will pull the plug on just about anything and begin training and vocal lessons." Train my voice to sing the operatic bits, and get into acting lessons to make sure that all my tools are available to me when I need them to transition back over into being an actress, so that I could earn it. Because what was most important to me was that I earned it. I wanted to do the work.How did you feel when they told you that you got the part?I have never in my life felt the way I did when I found out that I got the role of Glinda in the film. I thought, Everything’s going to be okay forever now.Did you scream?I sobbed. And then we got to do the work!You’re credited as Ariana Grande-Butera in the film. What compelled you to use your full name?It was a decision that I made because this whole experience truly felt like a homecoming to little Ariana. I wanted to capture it. Also, Grande is my mom's last name; Butera is my father's last name. This feels like the most important, full-circle thing I've ever done, so I wanted to have them both be a part of this.What was your first acting gig?I was the bumblebee in a school play. I spontaneously did a bit onstage that I didn't ask the teacher permission to do. I ripped the stinger off of my costume and stung one of my fellow actors. I had to have been around 5 or 6.Grande wears Swarovski bra tops and earrings. Do you get starstruck?Imogen Heap is my idol—my number one favorite musician, songwriter, producer of all time. The first time I got a message from her, I thought I was being catfished. She invited me over, and I thought I was going to be murdered because I didn’t believe it was real. She was so nice. She’s brilliant in every way.What was your first red carpet outfit?A little green minidress. It was the premiere of Fantastic Mr. Fox, and I had bright red hair because I was on Victorious at the time. I had a little cat eye because even then I loved that. I remember being really proud that I was invited to anything at all, but also thinking, This is so weird! Why do we do this? Why is this a thing? I'm able to have fun with it now.Is there a movie that makes you cry?The Waterboy, with Adam Sandler, makes me cry. When they're mean to Bobby Boucher, I cry. I don't like it. I love Bobby Boucher. He says,“Would you please still be my friend?” and I lose it. But I cry at everything.Do you think you're more like a cat or a dog?I think I have both in me. My sun is in dog, and my rising is in cat. Just because cats are so boundaried, and I have a little bit of boundaries too now, but I have the openness and emotional availability of a dog. So I have the emotional landscape of a dog, but with the boundaries of a cat.And you land on your feet. Do you like Halloween? What was your favorite Halloween costume?I love Halloween. My best friend, Liz Gillies, and I take Halloween pretty seriously. One year we did Showgirls, which was a favorite. The other favorite was Best in Show. I was Eugene Levy. I had two left feet, and I put gum in my Invisalign and stuffed it up so my teeth looked crazy. We hired dogs—a beautiful terrier to play Winky. I got lost in the sauce, and you couldn’t tell it was me at all.Do you have a favorite reality show?Probably Love Is Blind. That series is just fantastic to me.Do you have faith that the people will stay together?Of course, I do. Some of them do. I check sometimes. I'll go to Instagram and find these people and make sure they're still together. I need to know what's happening.What’s your astrological sign?I am a Cancer.And what are Cancers like?Cancers are watery, emotional, and open-hearted and creative. We like to be home and cozy and warm.You have a shell.Yes, we have a shell. But mine's a soft shell. I feel like you can see through it and there's a lot of openness that leads the way. But it's there. You earn your way in, and you get to stay.Hair by Gabor Kerekes at Milton Agency; makeup by Michael Anthony for R.E.M. Beauty at Opus Beauty.Style Director: Allia Alliata di Montereale. Hair for portfolio by Paul Hanlon at Dawes & Co.; makeup for portfolio by Sam Visser at Art Partner; manicures for portfolio by Michelle Saunders James. Set design by Gerard Santos at Lalaland.Creative producer to Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott: Leonard Cuinet-Petit at January Productions; producer to Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott: Kevin Isabelle; produced by AP Studio, Inc.; executive producer: Alexis Piqueras; producer: Anneliese Kristedja; associate producer: Kimmy D’Ancona; production manager: Hayley Stephon; production coordinators: Miranda Dos Santos, Susan Lucas; photography assistants: John Neate, Jed Barnes, Chris Whitaker, Kendall Peck; digital technician: Niccolo Pacilli; digital assistant: Cassian Gray; postproduction by Dreamer Post Production; fashion assistants: Tyler VanVranken, Molly Cody, Celeste Roh, Raea Palmieri, Tatiana Isshac, Haleigh Nickerson, Lauren Marron, Savannah Steilner, Sage McKee, Frankie Benkovic, Kaley Azambuja, Tatum Sanchez; production assistants: Gigi Rosenfield, Lily Cordingley, Eli Cash, Lex Vaughn, Anderson Renno, Kat Saravia, Kyle Dekker, Wyatt Noble, Brandon Martin, Moose Krupski, Josh Muwwakkil, Bradley Gonsalves, Drew Carter, Thomas Lynch, Alex Kofman, Jackson Schrader, Anatalia Zavaleta, Joseph Wride, Matt Flynn; first AD: Steve Kemp; location manager: Kyle Hollinger; hair assistants: Kim Garduno, Ben Gregory, Marco Iafrate, Hyacinthia Faustino, Chris Foster; makeup assistants: Shimu Takanori, Laura Dudley, Brian Dean, Beatrice Sandoval; manicure assistant: Cheyenne Vander Schuur; set design assistants: Seth Powsner, Denver Stoddard, Ryan Johnson; tailors: Irina Tshartaryan, Ripsime Vartanyan, Jackie Martirosyan at Susie’s Custom Designs, Inc. 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Like so many fans of Wicked, Ariana Grande was just a kid—10 years old, to be exact—when she saw the Broadway show for the first time, and it immediately imprinted itself on her. “I loved it to death,” she says. “I know my life in two chapters: before seeing Wicked and after seeing Wicked; before seeing Harry Potter, after seeing Harry Potter. And”—she adds with a laugh—“before Little Antonio, after Little Antonio.” The latter is a reference to her performance in the viral SNL sketch “Castrati,” in which she played a young boy with a bowl haircut who’s able to hit the highest of notes after being castrated. Beyond having a once-in-a-generation voice and two Grammy wins under her belt, Grande, now 31, is famously a master of impressions—particularly of people and characters she adores, from Celine Dion and Jennifer Coolidge to Shakira and Hermione Granger. But for Wicked, she was determined not to merely impersonate Kristin Chenoweth—who originated the role of Glinda in the original Broadway production—or any Glindas who came before her, for that matter. Instead, she and Cynthia Erivo, as Elphaba, made the characters distinctly their own. Now they’re up for Golden Globe awards—with Oscar nods for both well within reach.I know you loved Wicked as a child, but did you also love The Wizard of Oz?Yes! I used to sit in front of the TV in my little gingham dress and study Judy Garland’s body movements, how she held herself and Toto. My first impersonation may have been Judy Garland. I’ve always had a fascination with sounds and tones and different accents—my first memory is singing with my mom in the car to Barbra Streisand or *NSYNC or “Over the Rainbow.” I don't remember a time when singing wasn't a part of my life. Strangely, I remember watching The Wizard of Oz in the gingham dress paired with a Scream mask.Why the mask?It was my creative vision for it. I said, "I need to put a spin on this and wear it with a Jason mask or a Scream mask" or something. But I was a huge musical fan in general. This is kind of controversial to say, but I loved Avenue Q, even though it won the Tony for Best Musical over Wicked. But Wicked, of course, is my number one.So how did Wicked the movie come into your life?I heard little murmurs of, "Oh, they might start auditioning people for the movie sometime soon." That was actually three or four years before my first audition. I remember asking my team to check in every now and then and say, "Hey, is this happening? Because if it is, she will pull the plug on just about anything and begin training and vocal lessons." Train my voice to sing the operatic bits, and get into acting lessons to make sure that all my tools are available to me when I need them to transition back over into being an actress, so that I could earn it. Because what was most important to me was that I earned it. I wanted to do the work.How did you feel when they told you that you got the part?I have never in my life felt the way I did when I found out that I got the role of Glinda in the film. I thought, Everything’s going to be okay forever now.Did you scream?I sobbed. And then we got to do the work!You’re credited as Ariana Grande-Butera in the film. What compelled you to use your full name?It was a decision that I made because this whole experience truly felt like a homecoming to little Ariana. I wanted to capture it. Also, Grande is my mom's last name; Butera is my father's last name. This feels like the most important, full-circle thing I've ever done, so I wanted to have them both be a part of this.What was your first acting gig?I was the bumblebee in a school play. I spontaneously did a bit onstage that I didn't ask the teacher permission to do. I ripped the stinger off of my costume and stung one of my fellow actors. I had to have been around 5 or 6.Grande wears Swarovski bra tops and earrings. Do you get starstruck?Imogen Heap is my idol—my number one favorite musician, songwriter, producer of all time. The first time I got a message from her, I thought I was being catfished. She invited me over, and I thought I was going to be murdered because I didn’t believe it was real. She was so nice. She’s brilliant in every way.What was your first red carpet outfit?A little green minidress. It was the premiere of Fantastic Mr. Fox, and I had bright red hair because I was on Victorious at the time. I had a little cat eye because even then I loved that. I remember being really proud that I was invited to anything at all, but also thinking, This is so weird! Why do we do this? Why is this a thing? I'm able to have fun with it now.Is there a movie that makes you cry?The Waterboy, with Adam Sandler, makes me cry. When they're mean to Bobby Boucher, I cry. I don't like it. I love Bobby Boucher. He says,“Would you please still be my friend?” and I lose it. But I cry at everything.Do you think you're more like a cat or a dog?I think I have both in me. My sun is in dog, and my rising is in cat. Just because cats are so boundaried, and I have a little bit of boundaries too now, but I have the openness and emotional availability of a dog. So I have the emotional landscape of a dog, but with the boundaries of a cat.And you land on your feet. Do you like Halloween? What was your favorite Halloween costume?I love Halloween. My best friend, Liz Gillies, and I take Halloween pretty seriously. One year we did Showgirls, which was a favorite. The other favorite was Best in Show. I was Eugene Levy. I had two left feet, and I put gum in my Invisalign and stuffed it up so my teeth looked crazy. We hired dogs—a beautiful terrier to play Winky. I got lost in the sauce, and you couldn’t tell it was me at all.Do you have a favorite reality show?Probably Love Is Blind. That series is just fantastic to me.Do you have faith that the people will stay together?Of course, I do. Some of them do. I check sometimes. I'll go to Instagram and find these people and make sure they're still together. I need to know what's happening.What’s your astrological sign?I am a Cancer.And what are Cancers like?Cancers are watery, emotional, and open-hearted and creative. We like to be home and cozy and warm.You have a shell.Yes, we have a shell. But mine's a soft shell. I feel like you can see through it and there's a lot of openness that leads the way. But it's there. You earn your way in, and you get to stay.Hair by Gabor Kerekes at Milton Agency; makeup by Michael Anthony for R.E.M. Beauty at Opus Beauty.Style Director: Allia Alliata di Montereale. Hair for portfolio by Paul Hanlon at Dawes & Co.; makeup for portfolio by Sam Visser at Art Partner; manicures for portfolio by Michelle Saunders James. Set design by Gerard Santos at Lalaland.Creative producer to Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott: Leonard Cuinet-Petit at January Productions; producer to Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott: Kevin Isabelle; produced by AP Studio, Inc.; executive producer: Alexis Piqueras; producer: Anneliese Kristedja; associate producer: Kimmy D’Ancona; production manager: Hayley Stephon; production coordinators: Miranda Dos Santos, Susan Lucas; photography assistants: John Neate, Jed Barnes, Chris Whitaker, Kendall Peck; digital technician: Niccolo Pacilli; digital assistant: Cassian Gray; postproduction by Dreamer Post Production; fashion assistants: Tyler VanVranken, Molly Cody, Celeste Roh, Raea Palmieri, Tatiana Isshac, Haleigh Nickerson, Lauren Marron, Savannah Steilner, Sage McKee, Frankie Benkovic, Kaley Azambuja, Tatum Sanchez; production assistants: Gigi Rosenfield, Lily Cordingley, Eli Cash, Lex Vaughn, Anderson Renno, Kat Saravia, Kyle Dekker, Wyatt Noble, Brandon Martin, Moose Krupski, Josh Muwwakkil, Bradley Gonsalves, Drew Carter, Thomas Lynch, Alex Kofman, Jackson Schrader, Anatalia Zavaleta, Joseph Wride, Matt Flynn; first AD: Steve Kemp; location manager: Kyle Hollinger; hair assistants: Kim Garduno, Ben Gregory, Marco Iafrate, Hyacinthia Faustino, Chris Foster; makeup assistants: Shimu Takanori, Laura Dudley, Brian Dean, Beatrice Sandoval; manicure assistant: Cheyenne Vander Schuur; set design assistants: Seth Powsner, Denver Stoddard, Ryan Johnson; tailors: Irina Tshartaryan, Ripsime Vartanyan, Jackie Martirosyan at Susie’s Custom Designs, Inc. 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Like so many fans of Wicked, Ariana Grande was just a kid—10 years old, to be exact—when she saw the Broadway show for the first time, and it immediately imprinted itself on her. “I loved it to death,” she says. “I know my life in two chapters: before seeing Wicked and after seeing Wicked; before seeing Harry Potter, after seeing Harry Potter. And”—she adds with a laugh—“before Little Antonio, after Little Antonio.” The latter is a reference to her performance in the viral SNL sketch “Castrati,” in which she played a young boy with a bowl haircut who’s able to hit the highest of notes after being castrated. Beyond having a once-in-a-generation voice and two Grammy wins under her belt, Grande, now 31, is famously a master of impressions—particularly of people and characters she adores, from Celine Dion and Jennifer Coolidge to Shakira and Hermione Granger. But for Wicked, she was determined not to merely impersonate Kristin Chenoweth—who originated the role of Glinda in the original Broadway production—or any Glindas who came before her, for that matter. Instead, she and Cynthia Erivo, as Elphaba, made the characters distinctly their own. Now they’re up for Golden Globe awards—with Oscar nods for both well within reach.I know you loved Wicked as a child, but did you also love The Wizard of Oz?Yes! I used to sit in front of the TV in my little gingham dress and study Judy Garland’s body movements, how she held herself and Toto. My first impersonation may have been Judy Garland. I’ve always had a fascination with sounds and tones and different accents—my first memory is singing with my mom in the car to Barbra Streisand or *NSYNC or “Over the Rainbow.” I don't remember a time when singing wasn't a part of my life. Strangely, I remember watching The Wizard of Oz in the gingham dress paired with a Scream mask.Why the mask?It was my creative vision for it. I said, "I need to put a spin on this and wear it with a Jason mask or a Scream mask" or something. But I was a huge musical fan in general. This is kind of controversial to say, but I loved Avenue Q, even though it won the Tony for Best Musical over Wicked. But Wicked, of course, is my number one.So how did Wicked the movie come into your life?I heard little murmurs of, "Oh, they might start auditioning people for the movie sometime soon." That was actually three or four years before my first audition. I remember asking my team to check in every now and then and say, "Hey, is this happening? Because if it is, she will pull the plug on just about anything and begin training and vocal lessons." Train my voice to sing the operatic bits, and get into acting lessons to make sure that all my tools are available to me when I need them to transition back over into being an actress, so that I could earn it. Because what was most important to me was that I earned it. I wanted to do the work.How did you feel when they told you that you got the part?I have never in my life felt the way I did when I found out that I got the role of Glinda in the film. I thought, Everything’s going to be okay forever now.Did you scream?I sobbed. And then we got to do the work!You’re credited as Ariana Grande-Butera in the film. What compelled you to use your full name?It was a decision that I made because this whole experience truly felt like a homecoming to little Ariana. I wanted to capture it. Also, Grande is my mom's last name; Butera is my father's last name. This feels like the most important, full-circle thing I've ever done, so I wanted to have them both be a part of this.What was your first acting gig?I was the bumblebee in a school play. I spontaneously did a bit onstage that I didn't ask the teacher permission to do. I ripped the stinger off of my costume and stung one of my fellow actors. I had to have been around 5 or 6.Grande wears Swarovski bra tops and earrings. Do you get starstruck?Imogen Heap is my idol—my number one favorite musician, songwriter, producer of all time. The first time I got a message from her, I thought I was being catfished. She invited me over, and I thought I was going to be murdered because I didn’t believe it was real. She was so nice. She’s brilliant in every way.What was your first red carpet outfit?A little green minidress. It was the premiere of Fantastic Mr. Fox, and I had bright red hair because I was on Victorious at the time. I had a little cat eye because even then I loved that. I remember being really proud that I was invited to anything at all, but also thinking, This is so weird! Why do we do this? Why is this a thing? I'm able to have fun with it now.Is there a movie that makes you cry?The Waterboy, with Adam Sandler, makes me cry. When they're mean to Bobby Boucher, I cry. I don't like it. I love Bobby Boucher. He says,“Would you please still be my friend?” and I lose it. But I cry at everything.Do you think you're more like a cat or a dog?I think I have both in me. My sun is in dog, and my rising is in cat. Just because cats are so boundaried, and I have a little bit of boundaries too now, but I have the openness and emotional availability of a dog. So I have the emotional landscape of a dog, but with the boundaries of a cat.And you land on your feet. Do you like Halloween? What was your favorite Halloween costume?I love Halloween. My best friend, Liz Gillies, and I take Halloween pretty seriously. One year we did Showgirls, which was a favorite. The other favorite was Best in Show. I was Eugene Levy. I had two left feet, and I put gum in my Invisalign and stuffed it up so my teeth looked crazy. We hired dogs—a beautiful terrier to play Winky. I got lost in the sauce, and you couldn’t tell it was me at all.Do you have a favorite reality show?Probably Love Is Blind. That series is just fantastic to me.Do you have faith that the people will stay together?Of course, I do. Some of them do. I check sometimes. I'll go to Instagram and find these people and make sure they're still together. I need to know what's happening.What’s your astrological sign?I am a Cancer.And what are Cancers like?Cancers are watery, emotional, and open-hearted and creative. We like to be home and cozy and warm.You have a shell.Yes, we have a shell. But mine's a soft shell. I feel like you can see through it and there's a lot of openness that leads the way. But it's there. You earn your way in, and you get to stay.Hair by Gabor Kerekes at Milton Agency; makeup by Michael Anthony for R.E.M. Beauty at Opus Beauty.Style Director: Allia Alliata di Montereale. Hair for portfolio by Paul Hanlon at Dawes & Co.; makeup for portfolio by Sam Visser at Art Partner; manicures for portfolio by Michelle Saunders James. Set design by Gerard Santos at Lalaland.Creative producer to Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott: Leonard Cuinet-Petit at January Productions; producer to Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott: Kevin Isabelle; produced by AP Studio, Inc.; executive producer: Alexis Piqueras; producer: Anneliese Kristedja; associate producer: Kimmy D’Ancona; production manager: Hayley Stephon; production coordinators: Miranda Dos Santos, Susan Lucas; photography assistants: John Neate, Jed Barnes, Chris Whitaker, Kendall Peck; digital technician: Niccolo Pacilli; digital assistant: Cassian Gray; postproduction by Dreamer Post Production; fashion assistants: Tyler VanVranken, Molly Cody, Celeste Roh, Raea Palmieri, Tatiana Isshac, Haleigh Nickerson, Lauren Marron, Savannah Steilner, Sage McKee, Frankie Benkovic, Kaley Azambuja, Tatum Sanchez; production assistants: Gigi Rosenfield, Lily Cordingley, Eli Cash, Lex Vaughn, Anderson Renno, Kat Saravia, Kyle Dekker, Wyatt Noble, Brandon Martin, Moose Krupski, Josh Muwwakkil, Bradley Gonsalves, Drew Carter, Thomas Lynch, Alex Kofman, Jackson Schrader, Anatalia Zavaleta, Joseph Wride, Matt Flynn; first AD: Steve Kemp; location manager: Kyle Hollinger; hair assistants: Kim Garduno, Ben Gregory, Marco Iafrate, Hyacinthia Faustino, Chris Foster; makeup assistants: Shimu Takanori, Laura Dudley, Brian Dean, Beatrice Sandoval; manicure assistant: Cheyenne Vander Schuur; set design assistants: Seth Powsner, Denver Stoddard, Ryan Johnson; tailors: Irina Tshartaryan, Ripsime Vartanyan, Jackie Martirosyan at Susie’s Custom Designs, Inc. 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What Does Our "Motivations” PSA Mean?
@luminalalumini said:
I've been on your blog a lot and it has a lot of really insightful information, but I notice a theme with some of your answers where you ask the writer reaching out what their 'motivation for making a character a certain [race/religion/ethnicity/nationality] is' and it's discouraging to see, because it seems like you're automatically assigning the writer some sort of ulterior motive that must be sniffed out and identified before the writer can get any tips or guidance for their question. Can't the 'motive' simply be having/wanting to have diversity in one's work? Must there be an 'ulterior motive'? I can understand that there's a lot of stigma and stereotypes and bad influence that might lead to someone trynna add marginalized groups into their stories for wrong reasons, but people that have those bad intentions certainly won't be asking for advice on how to write good representation in the first place. Idk its just been something that seemed really discouraging to me to reach out myself, knowing i'll automatically be assigned ulterior motives that i don't have and will probably have to justify why i want to add diversity to my story as if i'm comitting some sort of crime. I don't expect you guys to change your blog or respond to this or even care all that much, I'm probably just ranting into a void. I'm just curious if theres any reason to this that I haven't realized exists I suppose. I don't want y'all to take this the wrong way because I do actually love and enjoy your blog's advice in spite of my dumb griping. Cheers :))
We assume this is in reference to the following PSA:
PSA to all of our users - Motivation Matters: This lack of clarity w/r to intent has been a general issue with many recent questions. Please remember that if you don’t explain your motivations and what you intend to communicate to your audience with your plot choices, character attributes, world-building etc., we cannot effectively advise you beyond the information you provide. We Are Not Mind Readers. If, when drafting these questions, you realize you can’t explain your motivations, that is likely a hint that you need to think more on the rationales for your narrative decisions. My recommendation is to read our archives and articles on similar topics for inspiration while you think. I will be attaching this PSA to all asks with similar issues until the volume of such questions declines.
We have answered this in three parts.
1. Of Paved Roads and Good Intentions
Allow me to give you a personal story, in solidarity towards your feelings:
When I began writing in South Asia as an outsider, specifically in the Kashmir and Lahore areas, I was doing it out of respect for the cultures I had grown up around. I did kathak dance, I grew up on immigrant-cooked North Indian food, my babysitters were Indian. I loved Mughal society, and every detail of learning about it just made me want more. The minute you told me fantasy could be outside of Europe, I hopped into the Mughal world with two feet. I was 13. I am now 28.
And had you asked me, as a teenager, what my motives were in giving my characters’ love interests blue or green eyes, one of them blond hair, my MC having red-tinted brown hair that was very emphasized, and a whole bunch of paler skinned people, I would have told you my motives were “to represent the diversity of the region.”
I’m sure readers of the blog will spot the really, really toxic and colourist tropes present in my choices. If you’re new here, then the summary is: giving brown people “unique” coloured eyes and hair that lines up with Eurocentric beauty standards is an orientalist trope that needs to be interrogated in your writing. And favouring pale skinned people is colourist, full stop.
Did that make me a bad person with super sneaky ulterior motives who wanted to write bad representation? No.
It made me an ignorant kid from the mostly-white suburbs who grew up with media that said brown people had to “look unique” (read: look as European as possible) to be considered valuable.
And this is where it is important to remember that motives can be pure as you want, but you were still taught all of the terrible stuff that is present in society. Which means you’re going to perpetuate it unless you stop and actually question what is under your conscious motive, and work to unlearn it. Work that will never be complete.
I know it sounds scary and judgemental (and it’s one of the reasons we allow people to ask to be anonymous, for people who are afraid). Honestly, I would’ve reacted much the same as a younger writer, had you told me I was perpetuating bad things. I was trying to do good and my motives were pure, after all! But after a few years, I realized that I had fallen short, and I had a lot more to learn in order for my motives to match my impact. Part of our job at WWC is to attempt to close that gap.
We aren’t giving judgement, when we ask questions about why you want to do certain things. We are asking you to look at the structural underpinnings of your mind and question why those traits felt natural together, and, more specifically, why those traits felt natural to give to a protagonist or other major character.
I still have blond, blue-eyed characters with sandy coloured skin. I still have green-eyed characters. Because teenage me was right, that is part of the region. But by interrogating my motive, I was able to devalue those traits within the narrative, and I stopped making those traits shorthand for “this is the person you should root for.”
It opened up room for me to be messier with my characters of colour, even the ones who my teenage self would have deemed “extra special.” Because the European-associated traits (pale hair, not-brown-eyes) stopped being special. After years of questioning, they started lining up with my motive of just being part of the diversity of the region.
Motive is important, both in the conscious and the subconscious. It’s not a judgement and it’s not assumed to be evil. It’s simply assumed to be unquestioned, so we ask that you question it and really examine your own biases.
~Mod Lesya
2. Motivations Aren't Always "Ulterior"
You can have a positive motivation or a neutral one or a negative one. Just wanting to have diversity only means your characters aren't all white and straight and cis and able-bodied -- it doesn't explain why you decided to make this specific character specifically bi and specifically Jewish (it me). Yes, sometimes it might be completely random! But it also might be "well, my crush is Costa Rican, so I gave the love interest the same background", or "I set it in X City where the predominant marginalized ethnicity is Y, so they are Y". Neither of these count as ulterior motives. But let's say for a second that you did accidentally catch yourself doing an "ulterior." Isn't that the point of the blog, to help you find those spots and clean them up?
Try thinking of it as “finding things that need adjusting” rather than “things that are bad” and it might get less scary to realize that we all do them, subconsciously. Representation that could use some work is often the product of subconscious bias, not deliberate misrepresentation, so there's every possibility that someone who wants to improve and do better didn't do it perfectly the first time.
--Shira
3. Dress-Making as a Metaphor
I want to echo Lesya’s sentiments here but also provide a more logistical perspective. If you check the rubber stamp guide here and the “Motivation matters” PSA above, you’ll notice that concerns with respect to asker motivation are for the purposes of providing the most relevant answer possible.
It is a lot like if someone walks into a dressmaker’s shop and asks for a blue dress/ suit (Back when getting custom-made clothes was more of a thing) . The seamstress/ tailor is likely to ask a wide variety of questions:
What material do you want the outfit to be made of?
Where do you plan to wear it?
What do you want to highlight?
How do you want to feel when you wear it?
Let’s say our theoretical customer is in England during the 1920s. A tartan walking dress/ flannel suit for the winter is not the same as a periwinkle, beaded, organza ensemble/ navy pinstripe for formal dress in the summer. When we ask for motivations, we are often asking for exactly that: the specific reasons for your inquiry so we may pinpoint the most pertinent information.
The consistent problem for many of the askers who receive the PSA is they haven’t even done the level of research necessary to know what they want to ask of us. It would be like if our English customer in the 1920s responded, “IDK, some kind of blue thing.” Even worse, WWC doesn’t have the luxury of the back-and-forth between a dressmaker and their clientele. If our asker doesn’t communicate all the information they need in mind at the time of submission, we can only say, “Well, I’m not sure if this is right, but here’s something. I hope it works, but if you had told us more, we could have done a more thorough job.”
Answering questions without context is hard, and asking for motivations, by which I mean the narratives, themes, character arcs and other literary devices that you are looking to incorporate, is the best way for us to help you, while also helping you to determine if your understanding of the problem will benefit from outside input. Because these asks are published with the goal of helping individuals with similar questions, the PSA also serves to prompt other users.
I note that asking questions is a skill, and we all start by asking the most basic questions (Not stupid questions, because to quote a dear professor, “There are no stupid questions.”). Unfortunately, WWC is not suited for the most basic questions. To this effect, we have a very helpful FAQ and archive as a starting point. Once you have used our website to answer the more basic questions, you are more ready to approach writing with diversity and decide when we can actually be of service. This is why we are so adamant that people read the FAQ. Yes, it helps us, but it also is there to save you time and spare you the ambiguity of not even knowing where to start.
The anxiety in your ask conveys to me a fear of being judged for asking questions. That fear is not something we can help you with, other than to wholeheartedly reassure you that we do not spend our unpaid, free time answering these questions in order to assume motives we can’t confirm or sit in judgment of our users who, as you say, are just trying to do better.
Yes, I am often frustrated when an asker’s question makes it clear they haven’t read the FAQ or archives. I’ve also been upset when uncivil commenters have indicated that my efforts and contributions are not worth their consideration. However, even the most tactless question has never made me think, “Ooh this person is such a naughty racist. Let me laugh at them for being a naughty racist. Let me shame them for being a naughty racist. Mwahaha.”
What kind of sad person has time for that?*
Racism is structural. It takes time to unlearn, especially if you’re in an environment that doesn’t facilitate that process to begin with. Our first priority is to help while also preserving our own boundaries and well-being. Though I am well aware of the levels of toxic gas-lighting and virtue signaling that can be found in various corners of online writing communities in the name of “progressivism*”, WWC is not that kind of space. This space is for discussions held in good faith: for us to understand each other better, rather than for one of us to “win” and another to “lose.”
Just as we have good faith that you are doing your best, we ask that you have faith that we are trying to do our best by you and the BIPOC communities we represent.
- Marika.
*If you are in any writing or social media circles that feed these anxieties or demonstrate these behaviors, I advise you to curtail your time with them and focus on your own growth. You will find, over time, that it is easier to think clearly when you are worrying less about trying to appease people who set the bar of approval so high just for the enjoyment of watching you jump. “Internet hygiene”, as I like to call it, begins with you and the boundaries you set with those you interact with online.
#PSAs#asker concerns#diversity#motivations in writing#writing with diversity#blog housekeeping#internet hygeine#asks#WWC
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Hun if you could do like nsfw hcs like what their like in bed and/or what their kinks are that would be great✨also you're amazing✨✨✨✨✨
What The Maze Runner Characters are Like In Bed
First and foremost: No, You're amazing!! Secondly, I did just a sort of broad "What they're like in bed" one but I will also do their kinks, in a seperate post. Just to keep this from becoming too long because I do so many characters.
Warning: Sexual references, sexual themes, no explicit smut
Alby
Definitely cares about your pleasure above his own and always takes care of you first before himself. Eats you out like a champ.
Is slow and thorough and would worship your body, specifically anything you’ve admitted to being insecure about/he’s noticed you’re insecure about.
Aris
He is incredibly enthusiastic about every aspect of your sex life. He is always ready to try new things, and eager to figure out what you like best.
When he’s feeling playful he’s a little cheesy and uses dirty pick up lines to let you know he’s in the mood, but when he’s feeling more serious or you guys haven’t had the opportunity to do anything in a while he’ll full on start teasing you in public like brushing his fingers up your thigh or against your ass.
Ben
Ben is a hopeless romantic and would love the stereotype of having your first time being special with rose petals and silk sheets and candles, but obviously in the glade that’s not really feasible so let’s just close our eyes and pretend.
Gets embarrassed very easily when thinking about anything outside the box and will blush like a sinner in church. Eager to try anything you want to but gets kind of nervous the more adventurous they get. Refuses to try anything that could hurt you and it takes a lot of convincing for him to try anything like choking.
Brenda
Very kinky. Like the queen of kinks. And 100% a switch but dom leaning, if that makes sense. Very adventurous and always trying new things.
Doesn’t have many boundaries, and keeping it to the bedroom is a conservative idea to her. Will tease you in public, like full on getting you off with her hand under the table, or pulling you around the corner of a building to make out with you.
Clint
Very gentle and loves to take his time. Not really that vocal, and any sounds you make will make him blush but he loves them. He uses the noises you make to let him know what you like best.
Has to build up a lot of courage to let you know he’s interested but the more he does it the easier it is for him and he slowly becomes more and more shameless about it.
Frypan
Frypan has a very high sex drive. Any time you’re interested, he’s interested and he can last for a surprising amount of time.
Makes jokes during sex, but only in the begining when things are still a little playful. After that he gets a little more serious and then he’s down to business, doing his best to make sure you both get thoroughly satisfied.
Always makes sure you guys don’t have anything planned after sex because you will be too tired to do anything.
Gally
Sort of intense and serious in the moment but that just means he’s passionate. Very passionate.
He has a lot of stamina but not like ‘multiple rounds’ stamina, instead ‘one round lasts over an hour’ stamina. This is because he’s a builder and is in pretty good shape.
Because he’s so strong he has a habit of manhandling you whenever he wants something. Picking you up and laying you on the bed, positioning you far too easily right in the middle of sex so he can get a better angle, holding your hips down while he eats you out so you’re not squirming so much.
Harriet
100% A top all the time. Full fem!dom style, but in a different way then Brenda. Brenda gives me ‘latex suit and heels to step on you with’ dom whereas Harriet gives me ‘holding you by your hair while she pegs your ass doggy style’ vibes.
Will pointingly leave marks on you to let other people know you belong to her.
She’s also shameless about sex and will make innuendos in front of anyone.
Jeff
This is surprisingly good with his hands, and that’s really all he needs to get you off, tease you, or absolutely drive you mad.
He loves to see you riding him, not only because he’s a switch leaning towards a bottom and loves to see you on top of him and completely in control while he’s fucking you but also because he loves that he gets to see very inch of you.
Minho
Hate to say this but his pleasure is definitely more important to him than yours is though I don’t think he realizes that.
Amazing with his mouth, though. That man is very very talented with his mouth, his confidence had to come from somewhere.
Very confident in bed and this comes out by him being very dominant. He is always in control and not in a conscious way but in the ‘I want to do this so I’m going to do this and you’re not gonna stop me’ way.
Newt
A very thoughtful lover. Will spend hours upon hours just figuring out what you love best/where all your sweet spots are.
Will use these sweetspots against you to get you to do things he says outside of sex. He also uses them to tease you in public/get you horny.
Loves a vocal lover. Those are his favorite, every sound you make is like music to his ears and he will make it a little challenge with himself to see how loud he can get you. But on the same side of the coin he loves when you have to try and be quiet cause it just accentuates how much he affects you, watching you choke down moans and whimpers.
Teresa
She’s sort of scientific about it, not to be stereotypical but she definitely read some sort of medical book first to figure out all of the erogenous zones.
Likes to mark you up but in a subtle way, like under your clothes and out of sight, just for her to see as a reminder of your guys’ past times together.
Will ride your face while praising you. It just makes sense.
Thomas
His favorite time to have sex is early in the morning, when you guys are both still half awake and it’s all lazy and slow and you guys just take your time and appreciate it.
As we know he loves to do crazy shit without thinking of the consequences, so he most definitely is adventurous in bed. The second he discovered bondage, ofr yourself or for him, he fell in love. That is definitely his biggest kink.
Sonya
Very sweet and caring lover. Takes care of you thoroughly before taking care of herself, but isn’t completely selfless because the second you’re satisfied she is taking what she wants.
Teases you verbally the entire time, and despite being a sweet and caring lover she is absolutely into degrading her partner. She also loves to tease you in public, leaning over to whisper in your ear what she wants to do to you/have done to her later.
Winston
Loves foreplay. He could make out with you and grope like teenagers for hours before sex, he literally never gets tired of it.
So good with his mouth. Like surprisingly good with his mouth. Takes you apart in moments good with his mouth.
Very rough during actual sex and he feels sort of bad about it at first and tries to be gentler, especially if you bruise easily, but the minute you give him the go ahead it’s like unleashing an entirely new person.
#tmr winston#tmr sonya#tmr ben#tmr aris#tmr teresa#tmr brenda#tmr gally#tmr alby#tmr thomas#tmr minho#tmr newt#tmr clint#tmr frypan#tmr#tmr jeff#winston x reader#sonya x reader#ben x reader#aris x reader#teresa x reader#brenda x reader#gally x reader#alby x reader#thomas x reader#minho x reader#newt x reader#clint x reader#frypan x reader#jeff x reader
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if fans wanted to include peach in stuff they write, would that be okay? and how would they write peach's personality? aside from "FIGHT ME" anyway, i think that much is a given lol. i only really write the anime characters 'cause that's what i know, but it sounds like it'd be kinda fun to try making a version of ash that fits into this blog's universe! nerf'd Obviously, but i think she'd probably appreciate how hands-on he gets when training his pokemon!
Ok, I get a lot of these messages, and I often hear folks wanting to throw peach into their stories and comics and writings, and I will always simply ask that if it’s published online publicly, to be linked to it so I can snoop and enjoy the content too. If someone asks about her in your work, let them know about the blog I guess? But literally I love that people take this stuff, these characters and stories, and make new stuff with it. No ones making money off my work here? So where’s the issue? Go for it buddy, knock yourself out, I’m all for it.
For you, and all the others out there who want to add peach, and other characters to your world building, I will give you a detailed rundown of the main lot, and how they behave, what they do, how they function. You can use that, use bits, or use none of it, I do not mind at all. If you’re creating something, you’re in control, not me.
So, peach doesn’t actually fight people as much as you’d think. She’s very aware most cannot and do not want to do that, and so she likes to keep to herself with regards to that aspect of her life, she doesn’t ask to spar with people, or even bring it up at all, but people ask her all the time, even if they clearly would lose or become hurt should she miscalculate during the fight. She looks at people like they usually create problems, and often has a somewhat reserved nature to other humans. You have to work quite hard to get anything more than formalities out of her. She will dead-pan handle people with blunt and very to-the-point statements, aid whenever possible, but very quickly get back to handling the Pokemon she so carefully tends. Her focus is clear, she’s all about hard work, her very small select family, and the Pokemon.
Her brutal, loud and brash personality only comes out with friends, family, difficult humans, OR any Pokemon. She will joke and laugh and play with Pokemon, but clam up around humans, maintaining tight body language and generally will be a little cold by regular standards. She does however have some weaknesses in this emotionless shield she puts up. When peach was young she was always angry, which swung so fast to sadness, back and forth. Her teenage years it just got worse and worse, it was crippling at points. She is to this day, full of fire and rage, even sadness, but now she has learnt to control it, to use it. When she sees that in others, it’s familiar, and she is pushed to drop the front, and be very real with the person. Underdogs I suppose, people who get bad reps, but deserve the same as everyone else. She can’t ignore it.
Once you start to pry open her personality, you’ll find she’s a lot more laid back and fun than originally appeared, you just have to work hard to find that side of her. She will meme reference, can’t dance to save her life, loves her coffee, and can be caught in quiet contemplation while gardening. This hobby is her calmest, and often is why she can stay so level headed when her quiet rage boils up again. Without time outside she will become grouchy, a little snippy, and lethargic. Will not go in the ocean for any reason other than life or death, is fine with ponds and rivers, or water at wading height. Likes the rain.
With regards to her training others, they usually have to tolerate her somewhat strict nature. She is a little....unforgiving, holds a grudge if you make a lot of mistakes, and has no tolerance for ignorance in the age of information that we all live in. In previous posts I’ve mentioned she’s only recently selected two students, after many years of testing kids who want to learn from her. Hundred tried out, only two have ever been approved. How she teaches is very fast paced, be prepared to get some scrapes and bruises, she will test your physical and emotional tolerances with intense tasks, carefully watching students like a hawk. Bad posture in your stance? She’ll be the first to tell you to sort it out. Not hearing your Pokemon partner? Right, now you spend the day without using words trying to communicate, let’s see how you like not being listened to.
This is a woman who has spent her life saying very little, and watching everything, she watches Pokemon and can see an issue from a mile off, and in battles, her observations are why she can react fast, and chose effective strategy to avoid damage and achieve results. Don’t let her body fool you, her strongest asset is analysing, watching, planning. Those skills have over the years transferred to people too. As a student, mistakes don’t go unnoticed with this professor.
Her methods are harsh but fair, and should you prove yourself, she will protect you with her life.
Because of her disinterest in kids and lots of noise, she does pass the training of students on to the other staff members whenever possible. Grey takes on the lions share of battle lessons, he is far calmer, more open and friendly, with patience for people, and an empathy that peach sometimes struggles to have. When you go through a lot of harsh training, and difficult events, it’s hard to change how you feel or think, with peach, well, she’s been through it. Most do not come out the other end in one piece, but she did, and it made her strong. You may think I mean strong like buff and big, and yeah sure she is, but I mean it mentally more than anything. Peach will not quit. She has learnt to destroy the boundaries that stop people getting hurt, gone is the fear that freezes you in your tracks, that feeling that you’ll pass out if you go one more step. She’s learnt to ignore it.
This means she’s a little forgetful at how it is to be normal, to be vulnerable and soft and squishy like students so usually are.
She has her issues, but for the most part, visitors get a laugh, a smile, a calm assertive confidence, and facts. She will indulge those who have genuine interest, or show a connection with nature, an understanding of the balance that needs to be struck for everyone to live well together.
Despite her many flaws, she’s fiercely protective, and will go above and beyond to defend the island, it’s staff, the Pokemon and the visitors. Injustice is her biggest gripe, along with littering, and she doesn’t stand by quietly if something happens that seems unfair.
You will not see her without Valka, her vulpix, close by. That Pokemon doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, at all, and will run the second someone comes at her with that intent. Peach will scold you for pushing yourself onto her, should you persistently try to get close to pet Val. They are in sync, if peach is sad, Val is sad, if Val is stressed, peach is stressed, and so on. They are inherently connected, it’s just been that long, the psychic bridge between them has been built, and reinforced over the years.
The only other Pokemon who follows her so endlessly is Booker, a teddiursa who’s pretty rough looking. He quietly trots behind, grouchy and stoic, they fight closely together a lot. He lost his mom a long time ago to poachers, and peach took him in, and changed her whole life for him. Not many people know, but Booker was the reason she left the rangers, changed career, and got so strong. Will tolerate people petting him but isn’t keen at all, grumbles a lot and tries to move away.
You may also need to know about the others, for the sake of writing, she here a few more bits that may be important to you, or others wanting to do this.
Grey is very tall, very burly, composed, tells bad dad jokes, is a bit of a goof if allowed to be. If he sees a pun, he’ll say it. Can’t help himself. Very nice guy to work with, good at keeping people calm and grounded. Pokemon are drawn to him like a moth to a flame, he gives off warm energy, and has inhuman amounts of patience. If you wrong his family however, he will snap back.
He grew up in the city, loves to swim and hike and cycle, can snowboard, is really sporty. A total brain box with held items, and boosting stats. He will explore many paths, to make sure visitors and students get the information they need, in a way that can be remembered and retained for later. Is a huge guy, but will get on the floor to play with a tiny Pokemon. Treats big “meaner” looking species like babies, very good with all pokemon.
His free time is spent either tinkering, swimming, or trimming his bonsai trees. This guy stares at screens a lot, so appreciates time away from them. Peach built him his own little greenhouse for his trees and tools, which he keeps clean and loves dearly.
His methods as a teacher are built around fun and games, he makes hard work easier to do by distracting trainers from the difficult bits, and focusing in on something more interesting or compelling.
His most commonly seen Pokemon would be a houndoom, Saxon, old battle veteran, retired now to herding and being a good boy. Very gentle, loves a pet.
Pari, now a fully fledged nurse, often oversees the labs front desk and pokecentre features, such as healing pokemon, and informing trainers who come to visit. Her skills with eggs and hatchlings is high, she’s great with younger Pokemon, and hands out good advice to trainers a lot. She’s not a fighter, never was, but can find any file, any study, any book, and any refrence you may need. A true bookworm, loves her romance novels, chat shows and upbeat celebrity gossip mags. Will cry at a lot of stuff, be it sad or happy.
She’s got a seriously upbeat personality, but if caught off guard or shocked, she gets a little flustered. Too much chaos will overwhelm her, but usually she’s on top of things. The years spent on the island have made her better at maintaining composure in emergencies. With lots of siblings, she’s very competent with others, and has a good ability to disarm cagey people with her jolly nature. Because of this, she can sometimes gain information from trainers that some of the more harsh professors may not have access to. Charming is a word for it.
Her partners are an eevee, and a happiny. They are quite sweet and well adjusted, the eevee gets a bit bouncy if you get it too excited.
#if you dont want to use the refs#im really cool with it#just enjoy yourself buddy#pokemon#prof.peach#peach talks#prof.grey#pari#dotaku island#dotaku staff#PLEASE#just ask me if you dont know something#or feel i missed something in what i wrote
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Memory - Bucky Barnes smut
The one where Bucky's a vampire but still manages to develop a breeding kink
Warnings: smut, breeding kink, vampire!AU, creampie, daddy kink, mention of blood because of biting
A/N: this is for my darling cousin @whisperlullaby‘s challenge, and also my own! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them, instead of on Thursdays, which are my usual one-shot posting days. I hope you guys will enjoy this silly idea of a vampire with a breeding kink 💛 I had a blast writing it! Unbeta’ed because I almost died this week and cannot be bothered to stare at my writing for any longer.
Bucky’s P.O.V.
“Okay, let’s play truth or dare!” I groaned as silently as possible at the proposition. One of the downsides of dating someone in college was having to deal with the immaturity of their friends, especially when I was unable to escape yet another invitation for a weekend getaway.
There were only so many encounters a man could refuse before mysterious became annoying, and I knew I was toeing the line, even if my girlfriend never complained.
She understood just how irritating these gatherings could be to me. It would have been easy to imagine if there was a realistic age gap between us, but considering the centuries that separated our birth dates, it was laughable that anyone would entertain the idea of me with a bunch of young adults who only wanted to get laid, smoke some weed and drink their asses off.
Of course, her friends didn’t know my true age, so they only thought I was a little bit irked by their behavior. Y/N knew the truth, and so evidently she tried to get me out of it, but I resisted.
I wanted her to take part in the normal experiences people her age were having. There was already so much that she was missing out on just by being with me - and I wasn’t even referring to the blood that she granted me every night.
I’d accepted to be there with her that evening. I was going to immerse myself in the full experience, if only to learn a bit more about her and those she surrounded herself with.
Her best friend let out a little excited yell when she noticed that we were joining the circle and I forced myself to smile at her. “Alright, let’s do this.” One of the male friends rubbed his hands before reaching for the bottle, making it spin as I frowned. I thought that was a different game, but apparently I was mistaken.
It landed on a girl I had yet to get acquainted with, and so I disconnected myself from the conversation as I watched my beloved laugh and have fun with her friends. It made me feel warm. It made me grateful I had decided to join.
A few more rounds went by without anything of essence actually happening. I was about to excuse myself when the bottle surprisingly stopped while pointing at Y/N.
She gasped as she stared at the man who was responsible for deciding her fate, and I already knew I wouldn’t like what was coming next. But she was smart, so she avoided the dare that would undoubtedly enrage me, leaving her to answer a question that I also would have preferred not to hear.
“So… Y/N…” He began, taking far too much pleasure at the situation, and by the way she rolled her eyes, I knew she was thinking the same.
“Yes, Simon.” He opened his mouth to say something, but instinctively looked my way. I was trying my best not to let any emotion slip through the cracks of my perfectly constructed mask, but whatever it was that he saw seemed to make him change his mind.
He closed his mouth and frowned, for a second deep in thought, before he sighed and finally voiced his question. “Just tell us one of your kinks.”
It sounded like he was trying to get this over with, and although Y/N seemed just as confused, she cleared her throat and gave him an answer.
“Oh, I don’t know… I guess.. Creampie?” Little giggles and comments rose around the circle, but nothing really stuck out and they were quick to motion her to spin the bottle so another person could have a turn.
It was a different reaction that I was expecting, especially considering what everyone did for much tamer answers, but the explanation for the lukewarm crowd was made clear by a groaned comment from Simon to the man beside him.
“This is no fun now that she isn’t single.” A small giggle resonated by my side, and I turned in the direction it came from to find my girlfriend trying to suppress her amusement behind her palm.
“Something funny, little one?” I knew they’d take notice of the pet name, but I honestly couldn’t be bothered to even pretend to care, and the fact that she smiled openly up at me showed me that she didn’t, either.
“Not at all.” She pulled me closer to deposit a quick peck on my lips and I was sure if my heart was still beating, it would have fluttered at the way she looked at me. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
“Of course.” Thankfully, the game didn’t last much longer - for us, at least. Somehow, the bottle didn’t land on me once, and Y/N started to yawn, her head resting against my shoulder after the third consecutive “Who would you rather bang?” question.
“I think we’re gonna leave for the night,” she excused us even though I knew she wasn’t really sleepy. She really could be an excellent actress when she wanted to.
We walked up the stairs to where the bedrooms were located, quickly getting in what had been assigned as ours for the weekend. She smiled softly at me as she reached for her backpack, no doubt looking for the one shirt of mine she always slept in, but I had a few things in my mind I wanted to ask her about.
“Why do you like creampies to much?” The words spilled out at me so unusually, considering the silence in the room, it didn’t surprise me that it took her a while to answer. When she did though, I was surprised to find her biting her lip, a look between amused and horny in her eyes when she approached me.
“Dunno.” She shrugged, taking my hands in her and playing with my fingers. I knew it was a way to avoid my intense gaze. “Guess I have a bit of a breeding kink, actually. It just felt too personal to share with those guys.”
The answer took me by surprise as I stared down at her, blinking a couple of times as I made sure to really process what she had said.
“A breeding kink?” I confirmed, and she rolled her eyes in that way I knew she did when she was embarrassed but trying to play it off as annoyed.
“Yeah, you know.” She pulled away from me to sit on the bed, legs dangling off of it almost like a child. “I like the idea of being bred. Even though I’m in no way ready to become a mother,” she added in a serious tone, making sure I understood what she meant.
But I didn’t. I didn’t and I guess it was clear in my face, because she quirked an eyebrow and jumped out of the bed, coming to stand before me once more.
“Why is this so weird to you?” She inquired, head tilted in amusement. “You’re over a century old, I’m sure your expectations regarding sexual relationships were related to impregnation for most of your life.”
And I mean… she wasn’t wrong. But I hadn’t thought about that for so long, I guess it didn’t occur to me that there was an actual term for it these days.
“There’s no way you don’t have a breeding kink.” The affirmation sounded almost like a dare, so my instinct was to fight it, wrap my arms around her torso so I’d keep her close to me, but deny it.
“You know I can’t ‘breed’ anyone anymore, darling.” But she wasn’t giving up. Her fingers softly traced my jawline, eyes sparkling with a dangerous glint as she countered, “Doesn’t mean you can’t like the idea of it.”
Even though I didn’t need the oxygen, I inhaled sharply, suddenly fascinated by her every movement, the way she gently unwrapped herself from my arms to slowly unbutton her simple dress, the one she made it look like a fucking gown.
“Think about it, Buck…” Every inch of skin that became exposed to my eyes still had my mouth watering, desperate to taste her all over.
“Wouldn’t you want to see me round with your child?” The question provoked my imagination, playing with her features as I thought about what she proposed. Her breasts fuller, stomach protuberant, and maybe a little feet rubbing against the skin, something I could kiss.
“See me carry your genes, continue your lineage… Wouldn’t you want that?” Her innocent eyes spelled trouble when she stood before me again, close enough to touch.
And I couldn’t deny that the idea did something to my heart - even though it didn’t beat anymore. Most undeniably, it definitely did something to my cock, which now strained against my pants, the arousal that the image of her impregnated by me provoked bursting as I looked at the creature that I loved in wonder and fascination.
“Are you trying to tempt me, doll?” She bit on her lower lip to stop herself from giggling before I pulled it away from her teeth when I took her in my arms again, naked breasts rubbing against my shirt.
“Is it working?” She breathed out, eyes connected to mine while she tried to gather my feelings about her attempt. I pressed her body closer, making sure she’d feel the hardness in my pants before I even voiced it.
“Very well,” I whispered in her ear, enjoying the way my cold breath awakened goosebumps all over her warm skin. She never complained about the difference in temperature, something that I was profoundly grateful for, since I loved to feel her hot blood pumping underneath my fingertips whenever I trailed my digits over her flesh.
“So tell me,” she pressed, still going for seductive even though she sounded slightly out of breath, her desire evident in the way her pupils had dilated. “Would you like to breed me, James?”
A shiver went down my spine at the question and I closed my eyes for just one second, just to relish in this sensation before I opened them to confess, “You have no idea how much I’d like that.”
My hand easily spread her lower lips, middle finger running between them to test her wetness and finding her soaked, like she always seemed to be for me. The knowledge had me smiling as I lifted my hand to taste her before making quick work of my belt, observing her slowly walking backwards towards the bed as I followed, almost like there was a thread connecting us, keeping us close.
Y/N’s P.O.V.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned against my ear as he buried himself inside of me and I clutched at his shoulders, desperate to feel every part of him connected to every part of me.
Only he could get me this way. Chest heaving, mouth open just from the simple act of feeling him stretching me open. It didn’t matter how many times he took me, it still burned the same - and I loved it.
“Tell me, doll,” he panted, hypnotizing eyes connected to mine, unwilling to let my gaze escape his hold. “Tell me you’d want to have my child. You’d look so beautiful with your body changing because of me, wouldn’t you want that?”
I groaned, throwing my head back as James fucked me senseless, his cock ramming against my sweet spot over and over again. He knew no mercy, I knew that. I just never anticipated to have such an overwhelming reaction to a silly little kink I never even thought I’d ever get to explore.
“Answer me, little one.” His fangs came into play then, piercing around the nipple that he sucked, galvanizing me into actually responding, “I would, I would, daddy,” while pulling on his hair without even realizing.
He let go of my breasts to look at me with dark eyes - not because he had come in contact with my blood, oh no. It was clear that this was the reaction to the name that escaped me so easily, waving its way into him until it broke the last bit of his control and left him completely undone, only determined to fuck me.
I watched him lick his lips before he ordered, “tell daddy you want his cum inside of you.” Hearing him acknowledge this other secret kink, refer to himself as it had me delirious, unable to formulate any words to obey him, so I opted to hide my face in the crook of his neck, hoping the feeling of my burning cheeks would satiate him.
What a mistake.
“Oh, so now you’re shy?” He mocked, rubbing his jaw against my cheek as I whined against him. “Want daddy’s cum so much but can’t be a good girl and beg for it?”
I came with a long drawn-out gasp right then, my body twitching underneath his as his cock dragged along my walls once, twice, a third time until it spilled his cum inside of my channel. The act was so hot to me that it had me pulling on his hair, whispers of “I love you, I love you,” tumbling out of my lips.
He silenced me with a kiss, still managing to keep on thrusting until I had to push him away because of my sensitivity.
“Spread your legs for me, little one…” He ordered, brushing his tongue over his lower lip in contemplation. “Let me see the mess I left there.”
I was still a bit nervous about the whole ordeal now that the wave of horniness had left me, but I did eventually spread my legs for him, whimpering as he bit down on his own lip at the sight of his spent dripping from my abused pussy.
“Oh, you look so good like that, darling.” I could barely contain my giddiness as he laid down by my side and pulled me to rest on his chest, pressing a kiss to my temple while he caressed my arm. “But one question remains unanswered.” To my almost sleepy hum, he proceeded, “Why do you like the idea of breeding so much?”
That got me thinking, wiping the tiredness off of my muscles like a bucket of cold water. It felt weird to admit it, but at the same time, I wanted nothing more than to bare my soul to the man I loved, to have him aware of every little thing about me…
So I admitted, “I like the idea of being yours… in this very scary, slightly territorial way.” At his silence, I giggled, hiding my face on his chest as I waited for his response.
“But you are mine,” he reminded me, and even as I rolled my eyes, a silly smile painted my lips, loving that he felt like he needed to tell me that.
“I know I am,” I recognized. “It’s just another way I’d like to be claimed by you. Besides, I can just imagine how well you’d take care of me…”
Silence filled the room as we both got lost in the images of what could never be. Me with a fully-grown belly, walking like a penguin as he held up tiny onesies that looked ridiculous in his huge hands.
My heart ached for what could never be, surely, but I couldn’t really grieve a future I’d never have while I was so happy with the man who wanted to give me one.
“I’ll always take care of you.” He kissed the back of my hand, and even though he knew it wasn’t exactly what I meant, it was just enough. “I’m sorry that I can’t ever give you children.”
The guilt in his tone was almost palpable, and I wanted to do anything in my power to make it disappear. This wasn’t what I intended when I shared my sexual fantasies with him. They were just that - fantasies. I wouldn’t trade my reality for any alternative version the universe could offer me.
“It’s alright, babe,” I assured him, depositing a kiss on his chest, right where his heart would be beating for me if it could. “I think the way you want to claim me is just as territorial… and much more final.”
Bucky held me close, breathing me in - even if he didn’t need to do that to survive - before he asked me the last doubt that still hovered in his mind.
“Aren’t you scared?” And as I laid there in his embrace, feeling loved and cared for, I knew the only acceptable answer that I could give him was, “It’ll be worth it.”
#whispers700challenge#my 2k challenge#my fics#bucky barnes smut#smut#vampire au#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes reader#bucky barnes reader insert#bucky barnes reader inserts#bucky barnes fanfiction
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what's the difference between what wanda did to those people in wandavision and what tony did with ultron?
I have so many asks about this. Hate asks, and people wondering what’s going on. This is the only one I’m answering.
Both of them are responsible for their actions. I’ve seen people try and take away either Tony’s responsibility for that or Wanda’s engagement and accountability.
In Tony’s case, the Ultron program was supposed to be a global peacekeeping program to protect the people, acting as a suit around the world to prevent events like the Battle of New York. He was doing it in the name of peace and safety. Tony was rightfully scared because he was the only one who knew what was coming. Wanda intentionally enhanced that fear in him and this drove him to create Ultron with Bruce. He has responsibility for it. Same as Bruce. He owns up to this, he took full responsibility and agreed that they needed to be regulated.
Tony Stark: A few years ago, I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits. Then, we had to mop up HYDRA... and then Ultron. My fault.
--
Tony Stark: There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.
--
Tony Stark: That's good. That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stop manufacturing.
--
If people think he needs to be in jail for it, then I’m guessing the rest of the Avengers too since all of them have made mistakes and killed people too. As a matter of fact, after the events of Wandavision, I’m sure that Wanda should be in the Raft, but because she’s ‘a poor baby’ yall won’t think she deserves that.
SPOILERS
It’s a big possibility that we don’t have all the info about what happened in Wandavision but we’re going to go with what we know so far.
In Wanda’s case, she did it to appease her grief and pain, and I can understand why she would get to that point, she’s been through a lot and maybe she was about to lose her mind. Instead of recruiting Wanda after the Sokovia incident, they should’ve given this girl treatment for her mental health problems. She just lost her brother and passed through a very traumatic war zone, of course she needs assistance. Cap and Natasha were the ones responsible for her because they were training the ‘new’ avengers. Sam was with them and he used to be a counselor to veterans with PTSD. He could’ve helped Wanda with some of her traumas. As shown in the series, Wanda did the whole hex business before meeting Agatha, which means creating that little reality was all Wanda’s responsibility. Hayward and Agatha did exactly what Wanda did to Tony (and the avengers/other people) in AOU. They manipulated her and played with her emotional traumas. Hayward showed her Vision’s body parts and Agatha started to pull strings to know how Wanda did what she did and her real powers while orchestrating against her.
Both of them have made mistakes. No one is better than the other. I don’t understand why some fans want to make someone responsible more than the other or blame one character for the other. While Wanda gave Tony that vision and pushed his self-destructive side to obsess over saving the world, he did create Ultron, what Tony didn’t predict was that the robot was going to corrupt itself. Same with Wanda, while Agatha and Hayward contributed to her trauma, she held hostage and isolated 3,892 people to create her perfect reality, ripping these people away from their identities and free will to fit her own fantasy. Don’t turn this into ‘omg poor her, it’s Tony fault that she’s this way'. I can’t believe I have to repeat this but you don’t see Peter Parker obsessively looking for the person who manufactured the gun instead of the criminal who actually killed Uncle Ben. Ridiculous that I have to repeat this example.
Oh and about Vision’s body (damn yall have a gift to turn everything into Tony’s fault for some reason). I can’t believe some of you think Tony (while grieving for 5 years) would give Vision to Hayward. You’re either pulling stuff out of your asses or you didn’t pay attention to the show. Maria Rambeau founded and was the Director of S.W.O.R.D. In 2018 (when IW happened), this is where she came up with a new policy within S.W.O.R.D. to ground snapped agents in case they ever returned. Maria was diagnosed with cancer, then two years later (2020), she passed away. Then, Hayward was promoted to Director of S.W.O.R.D., in his first years (2020-2022) he refocused the organization’s work from extraterrestrial operations to robotics, nanotechnology and artificial intelligence, etc. There, that was the 5 years. Then in 2023 it’s when he started project Cataract, which revolved around rebuilding Vision as a sentient weapon. Tony was dead when this happened. How come yall don’t get this part? I don’t understand, do you really think his dead corpse signed some papers to give Vision to those people? LMAO
Instead of thinking Tony would give up Vision just like that, think (possibilities):
Maria was the head of S.W.O.R.D., she might have just been keeping his body safe without doing anything with him. Maybe she trusted Hayward and he, obviously, betrayed her because he’s turning her organization into something else after her death.
One of the Sokovia Accords regulations states that the use of technology to bestow individuals (the term ‘enhanced individual’ in this book is defined as any person, human or otherwise, with superhuman capabilities) with innate capabilities is strictly regulated by the government, as is the use and distribution of highly advanced technology. Vision signed those accords ('I'm saying there may be a casualty. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict... breeds catastrophe. Oversight...oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand’) The Avengers were no longer be a private organization and they operate under the supervision of the United Nations. This means they (UN) were the ones that referred Vision’s body to S.W.O.R.D., to a trustworthy leader, Maria.
Vision died in Wakanda, not in New York. Tony was missing for 22 days after the snap, the rest of the avengers should’ve taken responsibility for his body.
Why is it always Tony’s fault but never consider that other parties are also involved in this?
I want to address some other asks with this one. I know some of you are angry because people are starting to blame Tony all over again, so a few things to remember:
Tony did not create the Accords. The Accords were the result of all the collective actions the Avengers have done in their superhero careers. All of them have made mistakes and the collateral damage of that was taken into consideration by the government and 117 countries around the world. He signed the accords because he knew that he could amend them with the support of the rest of the avengers and he knew about Thanos (something big was coming).
Obadiah Stane (it’s so bizarre for me seeing that some people don’t know who this guy is, I’m guessing that the people who are watching Wandavision are too young to remember or didn’t watch the Iron Man movies at all which is highly probable) was the one selling weapons to the wrong people, not Tony. Obadiah was the CEO of Stark industries and became second-in-command for two decades. He grew jealous of Tony and began cooperating with the Ten Rings in Afghanistan, selling them Stark Industries weapons illegally. Imagine blaming all of it on Tony when Obadiah basically murdered thousands only because he felt a little green. If someone who you trust (he had no reasons to doubt Obadiah since he was like a second father-figure for him) does something behind your back (take into consideration that people like Pepper; who was Tony’s assistant and had knowledge of all of Tony’s activities and responsibilities, Rhodey; who was the liaison between the military in the department of acquisitions and Stark Industries, and Happy Hogan; who was his personal bodyguard and Head of Security of Stark Industries, didn’t know what Stane was doing either), how are you going to know about it? Tony trusted him. And when he realized what was going on he immediately stopped all of it. He worked hard to be better and people overlook that because they want other characters to look better.
Don’t act like Tony was the only one assisting the military. All of the avengers assisted in one way or another. Natasha (who used to be an assassin) was in the Red Room, trained in the Black Widow Program in association with Leviathan and the Soviet Armed Forces, served for KGB, etc. Bruce Banner used to work for the United States government and was commissioned to create a super serum for them. Same goes with the rest, Sam, Clint, etc. Steve Rogers was a soldier lmaoooooooooooooo like, what happened to Tony with Obadiah happened to Steve with SHIELD/HYDRA in TWS. He trusted the people working in there (SHIELD), served for them, did missions for them and as soon as he found out what they were doing behind his back he turned against them.
Knowing all of this, how is Tony always the villain for yall? I’m guessing because Tony’s popularity in the MCU, but still, aren’t yall tired of not understanding the plot and having people repeat it to you constantly? Watch the movies if you want to understand the franchise, people. Stop following the crowd.
Also, Wanda is not a kid, she’s a 35 year old woman in Wandavision, she was 26 in AOU and 27 in CW. Hardly a child. Tony had almost her same age (38) when he realized Obadiah was selling illegal weaponry behind his back. The only reason people don’t fully forgive Tony is because 1. he’s a man and 2. he’s a billionaire. Even if Wanda was poor she still killed and hurt many people over the course of her life. Stop trying to make Tony the villain only to downplay Wanda’s actions.
Both have killed people, both have made mistakes. They’re both responsible for them.
#wanda maximoff#wandavision#vision#tony stark#avengers#marvel#mcu#this is the only ask I'm answering about this#exhausting
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𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮
Group : NCT
Pairing : Griffyndor! Mark Lee x gn! Reader
Genre : hp au, rivals to lovers, light angst to absolute fluff
Word count : 4.4K words | M.list
Warnings : injury, swearing
Summary : ‘He had nightmares of you slipping right past his fingers and him failing to catch you. He relives that moment.’
a/n: thank you for 1000 followers you absolute cuties!! sending lots of smooches and snuggles your way!!
“Aren’t you going to ask how the coolest champion is feeling about tomorrow’s match?”
You watched Donghyuck, your fellow housemate and best friend since you first stepped onto the Hogwarts train, expectantly. He spared you a quick glance as he plopped down beside you on the couch in your shared common room, too busy to munch on his chocolate frog to give you any further attention.
“I’ve already asked Mark.”
You would like to be able to say you were surprised at his answer, but his teasing character has become an usual by now
It still baffled you how you managed to even tolerate each other, much less get to share a bond as deep as the one you developed along the years. You two had next to nothing in common other than your cunning wit. While Donghyuck delved deep into his love for astronomy, which you despised with a burning fervor, you dedicated your time to Quidditch entirely.
You loved the sport dearly, it offered you that adrenaline rush you were born to chase, that quickened heartbeat as you rushed to catch the Golden Snitch. You spent every spare moment you could find in your hectic schedule on the pitch with the wind threading through strands of your hair and your hands clenched so tightly onto your broomstick your knuckles turn white. And you adored every second of that. But what you definitely didn’t adore was Mark Lee.
“And worst best friend award goes to surprise surprise Lee Donghyuck!”
He shrugged unimpressed by your weak attack and focuses back on his damned frog.
Mark Lee. Unfortunately for your sanity, you had to see him almost as often as you decided to practice on your own. If there was one thing you shared with him and you respected him for was his own commitment to Quidditch. More often that not, you’d have to share the pitch with him in your spare time, taunting each other for the entire period of time you spent practicing. He was the beloved Seeker of Gryffindor, their pride and joy and your rival ever since you were both accepted in your respective teams.
“So what’s your score against him?”
“It’s a draw.”
Yes, you were that petty. You and Mark kept the score on how many times you defeated each other in matches. It didn’t actually matter which team actually won, the only thing that mattered for your childish competition was who managed to catch the Golden Snitch.
“That’s why you’re so tense?”
“Bingo, smartpants.”
“What even is the big deal about your little game? It’s not like either of you actually gets something out of this.”
“I gain the right to stick my win in his face and vice versa.”
Teasing between you and Mark often stretched your patience to its maximum and ended up in one of you snapping like a chord under pressure. Donghyuck shivered as he remembered the final match of your fourth year when your house lost against Gryffindor due to Mark catching the Snitch before you. He could vividly remember the blood rushing through his veins in fear at the sight of you battling Mark shoulder to shoulder at a dangerous speed, arm stretched out so far he believed you’d topple over at any moment.
He doesn’t want a repeat of the miserable image of you he saw at the time, a defeated you, slumped on the bench in your changing room, head lowered in ultimate shame and disappointment as bitter tears rolled off your face, splashing against the floor as Donghyuck watched worriedly through the half opened door. Mark had really done a number on you that day.
“You have to win, Y/N.”
“Why the sudden change of heart, wasn’t our competition meaningless for your highness?”
“I don’t give a frog’s toe about your competition, but I want to spend time time with you this summer. And not just to watch you practice until you drop.”
You scoffed. You knew that he was referring to the summer after your horrifying defeat against Mark. Donghyuck could barely get a hold of you since you spent all day on your broom, tiring yourself out to your limit.
“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on losing.”
~
“Already wetting your pants, Y/L/N?”
You didn’t have to turn around to put a face to the taunting voice behind you.
“I don’t know, Lee, should I? You must know since you have more experience than me.”
Mark’s face scrunched up at the reminder of his first year when he lost control of his broom and he quite literally saw his life flash before his eyes. Not very Gryffindor from his part.
“Whatever, we both know how this is about to end. Save your cheap defense until after this final. My team will win this year’s tournament and I’ll beat you individually too.”
The reminder of the stakes of this match weren’t soothing your nerves at all, especially mere hours before you were facing Mark on the pitch. You curled your fists and kept a straight face, not daring to show him any weakness from your side.
“Shove that pointless confidence up your ass until you prove you’re worthy of it, Lee.”
“Oh so fourth year isn’t enough proof?”
The corner of your lips twitched and your eyes narrowed. zeroing on his tense featured in a chilling glare.
“You said matches don’t count, didn’t you? You were the one insisting that you didn’t consider anything a victory other than catching the Snitch before me. And in that aspect, last I verified, we’re equals.”
His lips moved soundlessly, trying to come up with a retort, but you didn’t spare him enough time to come up with anything, turning on your heels and marching away to meet Donghyuck.
“You’ll see, Y/L/N, you’ll never be my equal.”
His voice followed you tauntingly through the busy corridors, your rushed footsteps taking you anywhere but close to the only person who could make your blood boil.
~
It took three pep talks and four ‘friendly’ attacks of your personal space from Donghyuck to make you gather your spirits and stop the tremors shaking up your entire body. He walked you to the changing room’s door, patting you roughly on the back one last time
“Give your best, I’ll be watching from the stands. I trust that you won’t let me get bored. Also, remember that if you lose you’re sleeping on the mat in front of the entrance in our common room.”
And with that he skipped away, hurried to find a good spot in the stands that were already starting to fill up with students. You sigh, used to his weird way of encouraging you and stepped inside the room, greeting Jungwoo, your captain and your fellow teammates, starting to change into your Quidditch uniform.
As soon as you set foot on the familiar pitch, your eyes met Mark’s who stood straight and proud side by side with his own captain sporting his Gryffindor red cape and holding his broom, the newest Nimbus model.
You Keeper was talking your ear off about the ‘amazingly efficient’ polish he found, but you couldn’t seem to rip your gaze away from Mark who in turn seemed to burn through you with his gaze. He threw you a smirk as if provoking you to lose your cool. But you decided you wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction.
The stands were already roaring to life. Any match between you and Mark was very sought after by everyone in your school due to the intensity it held each time. Despite the already loudness surrounding the pitch, one high pitched screech couldn’t help but catch your attention.
“KICK SOME ASS, Y/N! Or the mat is waiting for you!”
Count on Donghyuck to be the embarrassing mom rooting for you at her child’s every sport event. You shoot him a warning look to which he only responded with an over dramatic wink and an even louder ’whoop’. You could only sigh, appreciating his support despite your lack of reaction to it.
“I’ll kick your ass, Lee Donghyuck.”
You muttered, trying to stop the smile forming on your lips. A snort came from the side, making your head snap in its direction.
“Try your best, Y/LN, too bad you’ll still disappoint lover boy over there.”
“Jealous, Lee?”
“You wish.”
Madam Hooch interrupted your banter with a shrill whistle, stepping in between the two teams while holding the Quaffle.
“Alright, boys and girls, mount your brooms.”
Within seconds all players were high in the air, adrenaline pumping through your veins, your heated gaze locked with Mark’s. It became kind of a tradition between the two of you, intense stare downs before the official start of the game. Madam Hooch’s voice which carried the same words every time sounded far away as she bent down, ready to throw the Quaffle.
“Alright, I want a clean and fair game, hear me? Good luck and may the best win.”
The long deafening whistle signified the start of the match and Chasers whizzed past you, speeding towards the Quaffle. You and Mark broke eye contact, each of you getting immersed in the game, your sole focus being on catching sight of the Golden Snitch.
The weather worsened as the game progressed, the unpredictable May weather acting up. The clouds darkened, completely shutting out any ray of sunshine trying to sneak past them, a thickening fog suffocating the school grounds. Slowly but surely, what started as a few scattered rain drops soon turned into a full blown storm, a cold shower falling atop of you, the harsh wind whipping your capes back and forth. The stands were barely visible, the cheers from below inaudible over the wind and the players’ yells.
If it wasn’t hard enough already to spot the small, golden ball, now it seemed close to impossible. You could make out Mark’s silhouette flying around, but you didn’t linger any longer on him, focused on catching sight of the Snitch. Bludgers were flying everywhere, the Beaters’ efficiency decreasing because of the lack of visibility, another worry to add to the list.
Gryffindor was in the lead with 20 points, the score remaining tight as the match dragged on and on. You had already been playing for a while, your uniforms were already soaked and your skin paling from the biting cold of the unforgiving rain, but the conditions only spurred you further. You had to catch the Snitch.
Just as your patience was running thin, you caught sight of a fast-moving golden spot, hovering on the sidelines. Without a second thought, you sped towards it, your surroundings blurring as your eyes focused solely on the already moving Snitch. Mark noticed your forceful actions immediately, whizzing past the others players and nearing you.
“And Y/L/N seems to have finally spotted the Golden Snitch! Both Seekers are bolting after it, I can barely keep track of them!”
The crowd exploded, cheering louder than ever, but you couldn’t hear anything, pushing yourself to the limit as Mark caught up to you and you battled side by side once again. The Snitch seemed to be angrier than ever, jerking furiously at every corner, but you didn’t let yourself be caught by surprise, keeping up with it.
Until it started speeding in a straight line, stopping its irregular twists and turns and you knew that was your chance. You flew at top speed, stretching your hand in front of you so much that your muscles almost protested and Mark followed suit. You were shoulder to shoulder with him, subtly knocking into each other in an attempt to make the other lose their balance.
“Move! It’s mine!”
His hoarse voice yelled right by your year, only making you grit your teeth harder.
“Fuck off, Lee!”
Your fingertips were a breath away from the Snitch, Mark’s arm pressing into yours, the cold wind biting at your cheeks. Desperately, you shifted your weight from your bottom to the hand clutching your broomstick, leaning forward on your arm and before Mark could react, you lurched forward slightly, encasing the running object in the palm of your hand, clutching it so tightly it left marks into the skin, but you didn’t care.
You did it. You caught the Golden Snitch.
“Y/N!”
Before you could regain your stance, a Bludger knocked into your broom forcefully. With your already unsteady grip on the broomstick, you toppled over in an instant, the broom slipping from under you, but you didn’t dare unclench the fingers trapping the Snitch in your hand.
Mark’s desperate yell seemed to be the only sound echoing in your ears as you plummeted. The last thing you saw before you knocked loudly into the ground with a sickening crack were Mark’s distressed features, a hand stretched to its full extent in front of him as he rushed to get a hold of you, your own outstretched fingers slipping right past his.
~
Surprisingly, as soon as you managed to crack your eyes open you weren’t hit with a blinding light. It still seemed to take a great effort to keep them open for longer than a second, your hand twitching in an attempt to bring it to cover your sensitive eyes, but being stopped by a weight forcing it down.
“Y/N?”
You groaned, scrunching up your face as soreness hit your body full force at your attempt to move.
“Merlin, Y/N, can you open your eyes?”
You could recognize Donghyuck’s voice anywhere, but the almost desperate tone he used was quite foreign to you.
“Come on, babe, open your eyes. Madam Pomfrey! ”
You realized the weight on your hand were actually his fingers which now squeezed yours encouragingly as his other hand came up to smooth strands of your hair away from your face. You clenched your teeth, forcing an eye open.
“Stop fucking yelling, punk.”
At your annoyed retort, he let out a relieved sigh, wrapping his arms gently around you while trying not to jostle you too much.
“Thank Merlin, you’re back.”
After Madam Pomfrey checked on you and updated you on your injuries which were a bit more serious than you expected, she left you with Donghyuck once again. He leaned back in his chair, a lot more relaxed than in the past days he’s had to spend by your bedside. You furrowed your eyebrows.
“The match. We won the match right?”
Donghyuck snorted as your first question was about Quidditch instead of your own health, but it didn’t even surprise him anymore.
“Yes, you crazy hag, you won.”
“Yes! We did it! We won!”
You’ve never felt more relieved in your entire life. You finally proved to yourself that all the time and work you’ve put into Quidditch wasn’t for nothing. And if this was the elevation you’d feel after winning cups, you were ready to spend the rest of your youth chasing the Snitch.
“You should eat some chocolate, gain your energy back.”
Now that he mentioned it, you finally focused on your nightstand that overflowed with sweets. You grabbed the closest one, a chocolate frog, not hesitating to stuff it all in your mouth and collect the card inside. Another Nicolas Flamel, you already had two of those.
“Those are a lot.”
“Tell me about it. Don’t worry, I’ll help you finish them.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
“Hyuck, tell me, did Jungwoo cry?”
“Should’ve seen him, like a baby. I’m pretty sure he filled half of that cup with snot-”
“Ewww, I didn’t need all the gross details. Ah, I’m sorry for missing that. And Lee’s face, I bet I’d sleep like a baby for the next 10 years if I had the chance to see that.“
Donghyuck’s lips were suddenly pulled into a smirk, eyes glinting with a dangerous mischief.
“You should see one of your beaters, damn nice nose Mark delivered.”
Your munching slowed down, gulping down the sweetness loudly.
“What do you mean? Did that petty git start a fight?”
“Wouldn’t say it was out of pettiness actually.”
Mark was the first to land beside your crumpled figure, dismounting his broom faster than ever and crouching hurriedly before you. His hand ghosted over your cold cheek, too scared to touch you in case he did more harm than good. His shaking pupils fixated on you, running a hundred miles per hour over your face, hoping, praying that you’d open your eyes and celebrate in his face.
“Hey, wake up, don’t play games on the pitch, you already won! Y/L/N!”
Mark knew deep inside that you had no games left to play after a fall like that, but it was his first time seeing you so small, so hurt, so defeated despite the shining Golden Snitch still clutched loosely in your limp hand. It scared him.
“Bloody hell, wake up! Madam Hooch! Help! Anyone, help!”
His head snapped around trying to catch sight of anyone coming to your aid, eyes scanning through the fog crazily. The rain seemed to fall faster and faster, the chill settling deep into your bones. Exhausted, Mark lowered his head in defeat, his forehead gently leaning on yours, his nose nudging against yours. One of his hands still touched your cheek, lightly caressing it, thumb running over the apple of your cheek as his other hand curled into a fist against the ground.
Jungwoo landed next, almost tripping over his broom as he rushed over to you and knelt next to you, opting to ignore the position Mark was in and focus on your well being. Mark’s head didn’t even turn as he spoke lowly.
“Do something for Merlin’s sake. Get Madam Hooch, or Pomfrey! Anyone dammit, just to something!”
Mark raised himself at the lack of response from Jungwoo who seemed rotten to his spot, freezing at the sight of you.
“Are you deaf?! Fucking help!”
That seemed to snap Jungwoo out of his frozen state as he jumped to his feet, sprinting towards the stand where teachers usually stayed during matches. One by one, your teams landed and gathered near you as Mark’s yells of help guided them to you.
“Merlin, that doesn’t look good.”
Mark’s burning gaze settled on your beater who stood a few meters away, leaning on his broom.
“It would have looked better if you did your part right.”
The beater rolled his eyes at Mark’s harsh remark.
“Relax, man, I just wasn’t playing attention for a moment.”
“And you think that’s a proper excuse?!”
Mark was fired up by now, lifting himself to his feet as one of your Chasers, a year younger than you crouched by your side, gripping your hand. He sauntered over, coming face to face with the beater who didn’t seem that interested.
“I’m just saying it’s not my fault their own incompetence landed themselves in the hospital wing, I’m not pulling anyone’s wight al-”
He didn’t get to finish his mocking words as Mark’s fist met his nose with a loud crunch, Mark’s powerful swing sending him to the ground as blood started dripping from his nose steadily.
“Don’t you ever talk about Y/N like that. Not ever again. If I hear one bad word about them coming out of your worthless mouth, I’ll hex you into next year. You’ll never be half of the player Y/N already is, remember your place, asshole.”
Madam Hooch was already tending to you by the time Mark turned back to you, deeming it safe enough for you to be moved to the hospital wing. Donghyuck, who sprinted out of the stand as soon as he heard your name coming out of Jungwoo’s mouth, held your head in his lap, smoothed down your hair, pushing away wet strands that covered your eyes.
Mark strode over to you, taking off his cap and laying it over your body as he slotted an arm under your legs, his other coming around your back. He lifted your body, cradling you against his chest as Donghyuck also stood up to fix your position in Mark’s arms into a more comfortable one.
“Off to the hospital wing,now. Quick, quick, quick!”
Mark didn’t waste another moment before he hurried inside the castle with you in his hold and Donghyuck quick on his heels.
“Mark Lee stood up for me? The same Mark Lee who hates my guts since we first got in our Quidditch teams?”
“Do you know another Mark Lee? Maybe he didn’t hate you that much after all, or…not at all. After all, all these chocolate frogs are from him, said something about seeing you exchange some cards with his Griffyndor friend in class or something.”
“He visited?”
“We wouldn’t be able to get rid of him sometimes. He opened up to me once when we met outside the door trying to sneak in one night.”
“Why were you even sneaking in?”
“I was bored, okay? I had no one to tire me out during the day.”
“Hey!”
“Anyway, he said he had nightmares of you slipping right past his fingers and him failing to catch you. He relives that moment.”
“Did it really affect him that much? Accidents happen all the time.”
“Not to you, Y/N.”
“Maybe, but I’m just another player from the opposite team., right? …Do you think he…?”
Donghyuck brought a hand up to his head, massaging his temples as he sighed with annoyance.
“You’re too dense.”
“How could I have known? ”
“Look, just talk to him as soon as you can. That boy needs to finally sleep properly, even my grandma’s bag has a lighter color than his eye bags.”
You just nodded, a bit skeptic.
You were discharged on that same day. Jungwoo almost cried again when you met in the common room, hugging you tightly, praising and scolding you at the same time with a brotherly smile.
You first saw Mark Lee in the halfway, after your Potions class. He was sitting on the ledge of a large window, staring seemingly into space. Donghyuck’s words echo in your mind as you decide to approach him and hop onto the space beside him, settling comfortable against the window behind you.
“Woah, Lee, Donghyuck was right, you could really use some concealer.”
Mark jostled as if he only noticed you now. His wide doe eyes racked over your smiling face and he seemed to panic internally.
“Whe-When did you get here? Why are you out of bed?”
“Because I was discharged?”
“What? Since when?”
“Earlier today.”
“Oh…”
He cleared his throat awkwardly, eyes running wild everywhere but in your direction. You chuckled.
“It’s okay, I already know how much the almighty Mark Lee worried over poor little me.”
Mark scoffed, his embarrassed behavior vanishing.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I see that hit to your head didn’t help with your sharp tongue, disappointingly.”
He swiftly moved away, starting to walk away from you until your hand clasped around his wrist, stopping him mid step.
“Wait, I just… I wanted to thank you.”
Mark seemed confused now, turning back to you with furrowed eyebrows.
“Thank me? What for?”
“Standing up for me and uh, you know, taking care of me.”
Mark’s face darkened at the memory of your beater.
“That git was just asking for it and I barely did anything.”
“Then at least let me repay you for the chocolate frogs you brought me.”
Now he seemed to choke on a confused ‘huh?’ with a bewildered expression that just melted your otherwise cocky demeanor.
“W-what? How-”
Mark’s words died in his throat as you slotted your lips against his in a teasing kiss, your hand holding the nape of his next affectionately and pulling him closer you. Mark took a few moments to realize it was actually happening in reality, not just an illusion from the lack of sleep. His hands came up to your waist, wrapping you in his embrace and pulling you against him impossibly closer. Years of pushed down passion and longing were exchanged in that moment, dizzying both of you.
As you pulled away from each other for air, Mark could taste the faint sweetness of chocolate on his lips. He smiled and his whole rival image turned into a lovesick teenage boy with a smile brighter than the sun. He laughed quietly, thumbs caressing your sides gently.
“I see you enjoyed your chocolate.”
You leaned more into him, pulling his face so close to yours that your noses brushed against each other’s, your ravished breath fanning across his lips as you whispered.
“I did. I’m glad I’m so interesting to you that you observe me in class enough to know that I collect chocolate frogs cards.”
You expected a blush to paint his cheeks red, an elbow in your side or at least an annoyed huff but you got none of that. Instead, one of Mark’s hands came up to cradle your cheek as he stared deep into your eyes with an unreadable look.
“Excuse me but it’s hard not to look when I have the prettiest person I’ve ever seen who also happens to be my crush since 3rd year.”
Your eyes widened, searching his for any hint that he may be just lying or teasing you. But all you could find was pure, unadulterated fondness, a withheld fire burning low in his eyes. He leaned down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear and sending goosebumps across the expanse of your skin.
“It’s been so hard not to just pull you aside and snog you senseless, especially in your Quidditch uniform.”
You decided to play along. You brought your fingers to his heated neck, running them faintly over his skin and you smirked seeing him shiver at your touch.
“Having a kink for uniforms, Lee?”
Mark screeched lowly, pulling away from you as if burned. He smoothed down his robes, fixating you with a glare that made you laugh.
“Y/N, I’m serious, though. I like you, I really really lo-….like you.”
You noticed his stutter, but it only made your smile widen as you stretched out a hand to intertwine his fingers with yours and pull him along down the corridor.
“Hm, I’ll need some more proof of that.”
Mark squeezed your hand in response, chuckling at you sweetly. He leaned over, pressing a feather like kiss to your temple.
“Don’t worry, you’re nowhere done with your payment back to me. And I only accept it in the form of kisses and cuddles.”
You smiled at each other, your hearts finally settling satisfied in your chests after years of internal turmoil that finally burned out.
“That can be arranged easily.”
#cznnet#nct#nct 127#nct dream#nct mark#nct fluff#nct angst#nct fic#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct drabbles#nct hp au#nct hogwarts au#mark lee scenarios#mark lee fluff#mark lee imagines#mark lee angst#mark lee au#nct dream fluff#nct dream angst#nct dream imagines#nct dream scenarios#nct dream fics#mark lee fic#nct 127 fluff#nct 127 angst#nct 127 scenarios#nct 127 imagines
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let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)
summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.
(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)
quick note: i wrote this back in 2018 after meeting sebastian in greece but i redited it now, so if you see any mistakes or typos please tell me :)
pairing: sebastian stan x reader
warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning
part: 2/6
(other parts) (masterlist)
It’s Monday when they come back from their small trip to the south. You’re watering the jasmine in your balcony when you hear the engine of Argyris’ car slowly shut down and see two figures getting out of the back seats.
It’s him and a blonde woman. You remember meeting her that night in the terrace. You’ve learnt that she’s a great actress and will play the other main character in the film.
When she notices you looking at them, she waves.
“Hey, Sebastian it’s your friend there.” She gives his shoulder a soft nudge.
We’re not friends. That’s what you almost yell back at her.
His head shots up, smiling.
He’s always smiling. It’s getting annoying.
You can see him going through his bag as he calls your name.
“Look, I brought you some traditional sweets.” He’s holding a small wrapped up package. He starts wiggling it in the air.
He looks so jolly and proud of himself. It makes your throat dry.
And before you can control it, you laugh. You can’t see it from where you’re standing but he bites his bottom lip at the sound.
/
Two hours later he’s sitting in your kitchen devouring half of the pastries he got you.
“These are actually so good, how can you not like them?” He says and it comes out all garbled. His mouth is full of sugary dough.
You do like them. But he does too. And you can find them anytime you want here. You doubt it’s the same in New York.
“They’re just not my favorite,” he nods “but thank you anyway.”
“Well let’s say you owe me,” you furrow your brows in confusion “and will repay me by sending me some of those once I’m gone.”
He laughs before taking another bite.
And as you stare at him, you notice that he’s different. His gaze is tranquil, his voice is soft and he has some cream at the corner of his lips.
Like that, he looks more like a guy you met at college than a well known actor.
Like that, we could be friends, you think.
You talk a lot. He tells you about his time in Romania and his first audition. It makes you realize you are far more interested in acting than what you thought. You tell him how you think team Iron Man is the superior team. He gasps, as if he is hurt.
He doesn’t mention his girlfriend. You don’t ask about her. It’s easier for both of you this way.
/
A stifling heat rises to your body as you walk under the burning sun. You don’t realize how Argyris gets you to give Sebastian a tour around the city, but you can remember a pair of light eyes pleading you.
You can easily hear him humming to himself. You turn to look at him. He’s wearing a hat and his forehead is sweating. He doesn’t seem to mind.
“You’re in a very good mood today.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Well I’m stuck with you for the day so what choice do I have?” You shrug.
He makes a face at you. You crack and a huge smile forms in your face.
He leans closer, mouth to ear and then he speaks.
“You know, I can’t tell if you hate me or just like me too much.”
His breath hits your cheek.
You try not to blink at the sudden foreign touch.
His words find your skin and they’re so clear and powerful. Suddenly you’re an open page to him.
He crosses his arms in front of his chest and waits for an answer, a nod, a glance.
You are still standing close, the city sounds doing nothing to ease the heated silence between you two.
He realizes you’re not going to give him any response so he lowers his eyes.
And then, when he looks up again, it almost feels like he gives you mercy and agrees to let you get away with it this time.
He smiles.
“So where is Acropolis?”
/
When he’s lying on your couch after six hours of being a tourist and under the summer sun he looks exhausted. Still he’s his typical talkative self.
“You are always so pumped.”
“And you rarely are.”
“Doesn’t it get tiring?” you ask each other at the same time. It seems like you are two different sides of the exact same coin. One body. One heart.
“Today was nice.” He stretches his arms. “Thank you.”
You open the window. There is barely any wind out there. The air smells of hot cement and flowers.
The man on your couch has closed his eyes, breathing softly.
You try to ignore him over and over for the last days. Until you cannot ignore him anymore; your world has come to an end.
So many people know who Sebastian Stan is.
Only few will ever know him like this; falling asleep on a cheap brown couch with his hair messy, his chest rising and falling and his mind empty of thoughts.
These are photographs of your memories now.
An involuntary smile spreads across your face at the thought.
You see him swift and his hand clenches tightly around a throw pillow.
“Stop looking at me like that you creep,” he says.
“Come closer,” he means.
/
The sun is long gone and he’s still asleep when there’s a knock on your door. It’s Argyris.
“Please tell me he’s here.”
You nod and motion towards Sebastian’s drifted away body.
“When I left you this morning, I didn’t actually think you’d last this long together.” He tells you the moment he sees him.
The words fall out of his mouth too easily for your liking. “But I should have known better.”
You don’t understand much. You take a step out of your door. You don’t want to wake him up.
“Do you know how many times he mentioned you while we were away?’
Everything stops and falls quiet in the hall.
The words choke you. You shake your head.
“I need you to be smarter than him.” He says and touches your shoulder. “His world moves too fast for people like us.”
It’s effortless not to look at the man in front of you. It’s hard not to shallow his saying.
/
He wakes up an hour later. He looks at you and it feels sacred. His eyes are still red and the pillow has left a mark on his left cheek.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep here.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it was rude, you should have yelled at me to wake up or something.”
“But you looked tired.”
You carry on with doing the dishes and you hear the couch squeak as he stands up and steps towards you.
The water is refreshingly cold on your skin and the soap smells like lemon.
His hands find your waist and his touch is burning. You wish he disappears. You wish he stays for the night. You don’t even know what you’re wishing for anymore. He comes closer and rests his head on top of yours.
And then he wraps his arms around you and you get flashes of days and nights where there was not enough air for you to breath and your ribs ached.
His action is not so noble. It feels like his body steals all the rationality you have. But it gives you this feeling that there will be no more starless skies at night. And that’s enough for now, so you don’t complain.
His skin feels soft and he smells of sweat and vanilla. Somehow you find that alluring.
He looks at you for a second, like he’s trying to memorize your face. And then he pulls away completely silent.
You try to understand what he’s thinking but he gives nothing away. You were never good at reading people.
You blink and he’s almost out of your apartment.
“Goodnight” he shouts.
“Goodnight” you whisper.
/
You close the window. You wonder how he will spend the night. He probably won’t sleep soon. He just woke up.
But you can’t sleep either. You just move around in your bed. You sink into the sheets and try to close your eyes.
Your phone buzzes.
He follows you on Instagram.
I need you to be smarter than him.
You go through his profile. You want to think he’s doing the same. You want him to do the same.
His world moves too fast for people like us.
You sigh. Perhaps there could have been a time when you would have stayed away from him, but you can’t pretend to ignore it for much longer. And you’re scared of it. And you’re scared of him.
But you’re more scared of how hard it’s for loneliness to fade. And you wish this doesn’t end like a greek tragedy.
/
One day of the following week you go out for coffee. The curly haired woman comes with you. You don’t understand why. And while you’re adding more sugar to your espresso, she tells him she loves his acting. She uses all kinds of adjectives to describe it; hopeful and poignant, celestial.
You like the way she talks. She sounds beautiful. You almost envy her abundance of words.
But Sebastian stops listening.
He watches the way your fingers wrap around the sugar box. He can see your nerves and your synapses move underneath your skin and he thinks he’s watching a dance show.
He will never tell you, but it’s then; under the morning sun and with sugar in your hands, that he feels his heart beat with the power of cymbals for the first time.
He thinks you don’t have to know.
He’s wrong.
You learn the girl is an actress herself. They’ll be in the movie together. They look stellar together.
Looking at them, gives you a violent feeling that wrenches your stomach around.
You can’t hate her for that. You feel like it’s more your fault than hers. That feeling however, grabs you by the shoulders and doesn’t let go. You try not to let it show.
But for some reason when Sebastian almost touches your palm, you look at her and you’re certain this is entirely mutual.
You make a silent agreement to not include him in any of this.
/
“You were extremely quiet earlier.” He says as you reach the building you call home.
He wants to spend time together until his scheduled shooting. You don’t complain.
“You always say that.” You try to joke. He looks right at you.
And then you notice that his eyes aren’t the color of the sea. They’re more grayish blue. They’re like a frozen lake in December.
“I know,” he starts messing with his hair “But you can’t deny you barely talked back there.”
When you enter your apartment, he immediately throws himself on your couch. These last few days it feels like he owns that right spot there in front of your big window.
“I’ve told you, I talk when I have something to say.”
He smiles at your words.
“Then I must be lucky you talk to me.” He whispers softly.
You sit next to him. If you move a little closer you could touch him, feel his warmth. You don’t.
You never thought of how easy it has become to talk to him. You don’t keep your thoughts locked and your teeth clenched around him. And that’s a novice feeling for you.
You let your eyelids fall close and lay back.
There’s a language between you two. It starts with secret glances and whispers and now it contains words that build and ruin bodies and souls.
Sometimes you want to say them all together. Sometimes you just want to open your mouth and let everything flow out but then you’re scared you’ll make him mad. Or you’ll make him love you.
You can’t decide which is worse and that’s enough to stop you.
“What is this thing between us?” He sounds all tender-like, but his blood feels heavy at the moment. He’s not sure if he can keep breathing. He regrets the words that leave his lips, when it’s already too late.
You have the answer figured out long time before he asks. But you’re not ready to give it to him.
“I don’t know” you open your eyes “I don’t know.” You repeat.
/
He doesn’t tell anyone but sometimes he feels nauseous before a shooting. You can clearly see that now. His pacing up and down the room and his roaming eyes give him away.
You are surprised. You never thought he could be nervous. He looks so confident and radiant all the time; you sometimes forget he is still a regular human being.
“You have no reason to worry.” His lips twitch.
“I know.”
“But you still worry.” You grin and catch his arm to stop him from moving.
The look he gives you is acute.
“You have no reason to be sad,” he starts, without breaking eye contact “but you still are.”
You feel naked and hug yourself close.
It’s very strange to have someone scratch everything from you and see your raw truth. You’re not certain it’s something you enjoy. You wish it didn’t make you quiver.
Sebastian wishes he could scratch deeper under your dermis and your fingernails and slither there between your muscles and your heart where blood runs thick and melancholy hasn’t conquered yet.
“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head.
“You didn’t say anything hurtful.”
You worry your words may come out bitter. You don’t want that.
“It won’t last forever.” he says and then your name appears in his tongue. You like the way he says it. It almost sounds like poetry. “You won’t be sad forever.”
You smile and, in that moment, you aren’t a worldwide known celebrity and a girl in her early twenties. You are just two people seeking comfort.
/
The same night there’s a party for the first day of shooting. You don’t feel like going, but he doesn’t let you stay home.
What did you do last night?
Went to a party with Sebastian Stan, typical Thursday night.
You can picture the look on everyone’s face. It makes your lips turn upward just a little.
“I told you to be careful.” The voice sounds almost far away but your neighbor is standing right next to you as he mutters.
“I am.” You say with a laugh. He crosses his arms.
“No, you are here, watching him starry-eyed.”
Your fingers start playing with the rough fabric of your dress.
“I don’t know how to stop it.” You whisper.
He tells you to not entail yourself in something you don’t know the way out of. But what does he know about solitude and rushed breaths?
What does he know about a pair of eyes that look like a frozen lake?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
/
He’s watching you from afar while you talk with Argyris. He notices how your chest moves along with your breathing in a way it looks like it’s made of pure glass.
For a while he thinks of staying there and keep observing you but then Argyris leaves and you’re all alone. And he starts walking closer to you.
All eyes are on him as he goes through the main dance floor. The curly haired actress stops moving to the beat and follows him with her gaze.
They both reach you.
And you know he’s moving towards you before you can see him. It’s like your body is aware of his presence madly fast.
His eyes seem darker under the hazy light.
He grabs your hand.
You almost heave.
“Let’s get out of here.” He breaths.
/
You walk for some time. It’s late and Athens is quiet around that time. There is only a soft broken sound of cars and you think about that time you saw a car crash happen in front of your eyes.
You sit close in an old dirty staircase in a forgotten back alley. The city has a lot of those, but people don’t notice. They just walk past them, always in a hurry.
Sebastian sighs heavily. He looks at you in a way it makes you think he’s trying to memorize everything. The way midnight air caresses your body, the way red lighting falls in your hair from that street lamp. He looks at you for an indefinite and long period of time and it feels exquisite.
You place your fingers on his palm and the world flickers. He’s still wearing the rings they gave him for the movie and they feel cold against your skin.
“Do you ever miss Romania?”
The question startles him.
“Every day.”
You nod. Maybe he knows more about sorrow than you give him credit for.
“I remember the dog fence and our neighbors’ daughter and the orange sky through my window, minutes before sun set.”
Your hand locks around his and you stay silent for a while.
“This is the Lyra constellation.” His eyes light up as he looks up.
You remember reading about how much he’s into space. It’s intriguing.
“Where?”
He doesn’t let go of your hand. Instead he picks it up and guides it with his own. His body moves closer. There’s no cold in the air.
As your eyes search for the stars that your hands point at, he watches you and he’s certain that one day he’d love to lay on his back, with you on his side and show you all the little dead planets in the sky. Show you the secrets of the universe.
And he feels like this is the type of beauty that musicians try to write songs about.
“Ah!” Your grip becomes tighter and you smile. “I can see it!”
He laughs at your childish enthusiasm.
You laugh too.
And then you let your head fall on his shoulder, your hair touching his bare skin. You don’t blame them for making him wear sleeveless shirts for the film.
You can him feel shudder at your sudden motion, but then he exhales and his muscles relax.
He observes the features of your face from this angle. He almost traces them with his fingers.
“They’re probably going to kill me for stealing you away from the party.” You whisper.
“I think I was the one who grabbed your hand and left.” He laughs again and you can feel his chest pounding.
His phone buzzes. He doesn’t look at it. He closes his eyes.
“Δείξε μου όλα τα αστέρια. ”
He doesn’t understand a word but your voice sounds too close. You feel too close. And that’s almost tearing him apart.
“What does that mean?”
You turn to look at him. The neon sign on the old building behind him keeps trembling.
“It means, show me the stars.”
And he does. And he feels like he could burn alive.
And you will never tell him; but you still think of him when you catch a glimpse of burning stars.
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