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fuckyeahgoodomens · 3 months

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Oooh! A great Gavin Finney (Good Omens Director of Photography) interview with Helen Parkinson for the British Cinematographer! :)

HEAVEN SENT

Gifted a vast creative landscape from two of fantasy’s foremost authors to play with, Gavin Finney BSC reveals how he crafted the otherworldly visuals for Good Omens 2.

It started with a letter from beyond the grave. Following fantasy maestro Sir Terry Pratchett’s untimely death in 2015, Neil Gaiman decided he wouldn’t adapt their co-authored 1990 novel, Good Omens, without his collaborator. That was, until he was presented with a posthumous missive from Pratchett asking him to do just that.

For Gaiman, it was a request that proved impossible to decline: he brought Good Omens season one to the screen in 2019, a careful homage to its source material. His writing, complemented by some inspired casting – David Tennant plays the irrepressible demon Crowley, alongside Michael Sheen as angel-slash-bookseller Aziraphale – and award-nominated visuals from Gavin Finney BSC, proved a potent combination for Prime Video viewers.

Aziraphale’s bookshop was a set design triumph.

Season two departs from the faithful literary adaptation of its predecessor, instead imagining what comes next for Crowley and Aziraphale. Its storyline is built off a conversation that Pratchett and Gaiman shared during a jetlagged stay in Seattle for the 1989 World Fantasy Convention. Gaiman remembers: “The idea was always that we would tell the story that Terry and I came up with in 1989 in Seattle, but that we would do that in our own time and in our own way. So, once Good Omens (S1) was done, all I knew was that I really, really wanted to tell the rest of the story.”

Telling that story visually may sound daunting, but cinematographer Finney is no stranger to the wonderfully idiosyncratic world of Pratchett and co. As well as lensing Good Omens’ first outing, he’s also shot three other Pratchett stories – TV mini series Hogfather (2006), and TV mini-series The Colour of Magic (2008) and Going Postal (2010).

He relishes how the authors provide a vast creative landscape for him to riff off. “The great thing about Pratchett and Gaiman is that there’s no limit to what you can do creatively – everything is up for grabs,” he muses. “When we did the first Pratchett films and the first Good Omens, you couldn’t start by saying, ‘Okay, what should this look like?’, because nothing looks like Pratchett’s world. So, you’re starting from scratch, with no references, and that starting point can be anything you want it to be.”

Season two saw the introduction of inside-outside sets for key locations including Aziraphale’s bookshop.

From start to finish

The sole DP on the six-episode season, Finney was pleased to team up again with returning director Douglas Mackinnon for the “immensely complicated” shoot, and the pair began eight weeks of prep in summer 2021. A big change was the production shifting the main soho set from Bovington airfield, near London, up to Edinburgh’s Pyramids Studio. Much of the action in Good Omens takes place on the Soho street that’s home to Aziraphale’s bookshop, which was built as an exterior set on the former airfield for season one. Season two, however, saw the introduction of inside-outside sets for key locations including the bookshop, record store and pub, to minimise reliance on green screen.

Finney brought over many elements of his season one lensing, especially Mackinnon’s emphasis on keeping the camera moving, which involved lots of prep and testing. “We had a full-time Scorpio 45’ for the whole shoot (run by key grip Tim Critchell and his team), two Steadicam operators (A camera – Ed Clark and B camera Martin Newstead) all the way through, and in any one day we’d often go from Steadicam, to crane, to dolly and back again,” he says. “The camera is moving all the time, but it’s always driven by the story.”

One key difference for season two, however, was the move to large-format visuals. Finney tested three large-format cameras and the winner was the Alexa LF (assisted by the Mini LF where conditions required), thanks to its look and flexibility.

The minisodes were shot on Cooke anamorphics, giving Finney the ideal balance of anamorphic-style glares and characteristics without too much veiling flare.

A more complex decision was finding the right lenses for the job. “You hear about all these whizzy new lenses that are re-barrelled ancient Russian glass, but I needed at least two full sets for the main unit, then another set for the second unit, then maybe another set again for the VFX unit,” Finney explains. “If you only have one set of this exotic glass, it’s no good for the show.”

He tested a vast array of lenses before settling on Zeiss Supremes, supplied by rental house Media Dog. These ticked all the boxes for the project: “They had a really nice look – they’re a modern design but not over sharp, which can look a bit electronic and a bit much, especially with faces. When you’re dealing with a lot of wigs and prosthetics, we didn’t want to go that sharp. The Supremes had a very nice colour palette and nice roll-off. They’re also much smaller than a lot of large-format glass, so that made it easy for Steadicam and remote cranes. They also provided additional metadata, which was very useful for the VFX department (VFX services were provided by Milk VFX).”

The Supremes were paired with a selection of filters to characterise the show’s varied locations and characters. For example, Tiffen Bronze Glimmerglass were paired with bookshop scenes; Black Pro-Mist was used for Hell; and Black Diffusion FX for Crowley’s present-day storyline.

Finney worked closely with the show’s DIT, Donald MacSween, and colourist, Gareth Spensley, to develop the look for the minisode.

Maximising minisodes

Episodes two, three and four of season two each contain a ‘minisode’ – an extended flashback set in Biblical times, 1820s Edinburgh and wartime London respectively. “Douglas wanted the minisodes to have very strong identities and look as different from the present day as possible, so we’d instantly know we were in a minisode and not the present day,” Finney explains.

One way to shape their distinctive look was through using Cooke anamorphic lenses. As Finney notes: “The Cookes had the right balance of controllable, anamorphic-style flares and characteristics without having so much veiling flare that they would be hard to use on green screens. They just struck the right balance of aesthetics, VFX requirements and availability.” The show adopted the anamorphic aspect ratio (2:39.1), an unusual move for a comedy, but one which offered them more interesting framing opportunities.

Good Omens 2 was shot on the Alexa LF, paired with Zeiss Supremes for the present-day scenes.

The minisodes were also given various levels of film grain to set them apart from the present-day scenes. Finney first experimented with this with the show’s DIT Donald MacSween using the DaVinci Resolve plugin FilmConvert. Taking that as a starting point, the show’s colourist, Company 3’s Gareth Spensley, then crafted his own film emulation inspired by two-strip Technicolor. “There was a lot of testing in the grade to find the look for these minisodes, with different amounts of grain and different types of either Technicolor three-strip or two-strip,” Finney recalls. “Then we’d add grain and film weave on that, then on top we added film flares. In the Biblical scenes we added more dust and motes in the air.”

Establishing the show’s lighting was a key part of Finney’s testing process, working closely with gaffer Scott Napier and drawing upon PKE Lighting’s inventory. Good Omens’ new Scottish location posed an initial challenge: as the studio was in an old warehouse rather than being purpose-built for filming, its ceilings weren’t as high as one would normally expect. This meant Finney and Napier had to work out a low-profile way of putting in a lot of fixtures.

Inside Crowley’s treasured Bentley.

Their first task was to test various textiles, LED wash lights and different weight loadings, to establish what they were working with for the street exteriors. “We worked out that what was needed were 12 SkyPanels per 20’x20’ silk, so each one was a block of 20’x20’, then we scaled that up,” Finney recalls. “I wanted a very seamless sky, so I used full grid cloth which made it very, very smooth. That was important because we’ve got lots of cars constantly driving around the set and the sloped windscreens reflect the ceiling. So we had to have seamless textiles – PKE had to source around 12,000 feet of textiles so that we could put them together, so the reflections in the windscreens of the cars just showed white gridcloth rather than lots of stage lights. We then drove the car around the set to test it from different angles.”

On the floor, they mostly worked with LEDs, providing huge energy and cost savings for the production. Astera’s Titan Tubes came in handy for a fun flashback scene with John Hamm’s character Gabriel. The DP remembers: “[Gabriel] was travelling down a 30-foot feather tunnel. We built a feather tunnel on the stage and wrapped it in a ring of Astera tubes, which were then programmed by dimmer op Jon Towler to animate, pulse and change different colours. Each part of Gabriel’s journey through his consciousness has a different colour to it.”

Among the rigs built was a 20-strong Creamsource Vortex setup for the graveyard scene in the “Body Snatchers” minisode, shot in Stirling. “We took all the yokes off each light then put them on a custom-made aluminium rig so we could have them very close. We put them up on a big telehandler on a hill that gave me a soft mood light, which was very adjustable, windproof and rainproof.”

Shooting on the VP stage for the birth of the universe scenes in episode one.

Sky’s the limit

A lot of weather effects were done in camera – including lightning effects pulsed in that allowed both direct fork lightning and sheet lightning to spread down the streets. In the grade, colourist Spensley was also able to work his creative magic on the show’s skies. “Gareth is a very artistic colourist – he’s a genius at changing skies,” Finney says. “Often in the UK you get these very boring, flat skies, but he’s got a library of dramatic skies that you can drop in. That would usually be done by VFX, but he’s got the ability to do it in Baselight, so a flat sky suddenly becomes a glorious sunset.”

Finney emphasises that the grade is a very involved process for a series like Good Omens, especially with its VFX-heavy nature. “This means VFX sequences often need extra work when it comes back into the timeline,” says the DP. “So, we often add camera movement or camera shake to crank the image up a bit. Having a colourist like Gareth is central to a big show like Good Omens, to bring all the different visual elements together and to make it seamless. It’s quite a long grade process but it’s worth its weight in gold.”

Shooting in the VR cube for the blitz scenes .

Finney took advantage of virtual production (VP) technology for the driving scenes in Crowley’s classic Bentley. The volume was built on their Scottish set: a 4x7m cube with a roof that could go up and down on motorised winches as needed. “We pulled the cars in and out on skates – they went up on little jacks, which you could then rotate and move the car around within the volume,” he explains. “We had two floating screens that we could move around to fill in and use as additional source lighting. Then we had generated plates – either CGI or real location plates –projected 360º around the car. Sometimes we used the volume in-camera but if we needed to do more work downstream; we’d use a green screen frustum.” Universal Pixels collaborated with Finney to supply in-camera VFX expertise, crew and technical equipment for the in-vehicle driving sequences and rear projection for the crucial car shots.

John Hamm was suspended in the middle of this lighting rig and superimposed into the feather tunnel.

Interestingly, while shooting at a VP stage in Leith, the team also used the volume as a huge, animated light source in its own right – a new technique for Finney. “We had the camera pointing away from [the volume] so the screen provided this massive, IMAX-sized light effect for the actors. We had a simple animation of the expanding universe projected onto the screen so the actors could actually see it, and it gave me the animated light back on the actors.”

Bringing such esteemed authors’ imaginations to the screen is no small task, but Finney was proud to helped bring Crowley and Aziraphale’s adventures to life once again. He adds: “What’s nice about Good Omens, especially when there’s so much bad news in the world, is that it’s a good news show. It’s a very funny show. It’s also about good and evil, love and doing the right thing, people getting together irrespective of backgrounds. It’s a hopeful message, and I think that that’s what we all need.”

Finney is no stranger to the idiosyncratic world of Sir Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

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greynatomy · 5 months

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you made it

leah williamson x reader

last fic of 2023 (at least from where i am)

i want to thank all who’ve read all that i’ve put out this year and all the mutuals i’ve made. i appreciate each and every one of you.

hope you all have a happy new year!

———

Leah Williamson, the captain of England who led her team to victory in the Euros, was rushing through the streets of London, rushing to get back home, apologizing to all she runs into.

Leah was invited to a ‘party’ with many other athletes all the way in New York. She’d told her agent to decline the invitation, but she couldn’t get out of it. She usually had a plus one with her, but not tonight.

‘Who would throw an event like this on New Year’s Eve?’ She thought.

After winning the Euros, the captain was invited to even after event, hardly any breaks in between on top of her ACL recovery. Finding some time for herself is rare, but not impossible. She makes it work. But right now, her priority is to get home as soon as possible.

—

Leah is back home in Milton Keynes at some neighborhood party time ring in 2018. She’s just sign her senior contract for Arsenal a couple months back and is at an all time high.

Mingling around the house with people her age, she decided to step outside a bit for some space. Walking towards the pool, she sees someone sat on the edge of it.

“Think I could join you?” Leah asked rather timidly.

“Go ahead.” You gestured to the spot next to you.

Leah mirrors you, taking her shoes and socks off, splashing her feet in the water a bit. When you finally turn your head towards her, her breath got caught in her throat.

‘Beautiful’ She thought.

Talking to you was like a breath of fresh air to Leah. It was as if she knew you for longer than the hour you both sat by the pool. You both weren’t aware of the time until you heard everyone else inside counting down.

Leah looks a bit nervous when you turned your head towards her, so you placed your hand on her arm.

Leah however, was even more nervous now. Your touch sent sparks throughout her body, something she’s never felt before.

Leah turns her whole body to face you, where you were already looking at her. She timidly reaches over and delicately places a hand on your cheek, leaning her face closer.

“May I?” She asks in a whisper.

You hold her wrist, the one by your face and lean in, closing the gap.

Your lips were soft, molding perfectly with Leah’s. She closes her eyes, relishing in the moment. After what felt like forever, you pulled away, much to Leah’s disappointment.

“Wow.” Was the first thing Leah said, seeing a blush creep up onto your cheeks, her cheeks doing the same.

You bite your bottom lip to stop the corner of your lips from rising. You get up from the side of the pool, grabbing your shoes, Leah copying.

“Thank you for the New Year’s kiss.” You say, backing away from where Leah is rooted from her spot.

“Thank you for letting me.” She replied. Just before you left, she called out to you. “I don’t even know your name!”

All you gave her was a smile and a wink, disappeared from her view.

New Year’s Eve 2019 was a bit similar as the year before. She was back in Milton Keynes, but stayed to celebrate back at home. Her mum invited a few friends.

It was nearing midnight, a minute before the clock struck twelve when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Leah smirked, leaning close. “It is my mum’s house.”

“Touché.”

You were each other’s New Year’s kiss for the second time in a row. But before you disappeared again, she caught your hand, pulling you incredibly close to her body.

“Would you want to go on a date?”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“Do you know mine?”

You shook your head side to side.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. Beautiful.”

“Yours?”

“Leah.”

“Well, Leah. It looks like you’ve got yourself a date.”

—

Right when Leah got off the plane, she rushed out the building, hoping to quickly catch a cab, which she fortunately got into one.

Sitting in the back seat, she checks her watch.

11:38

Twenty-two minutes until midnight.

“Is there a way around the traffic?” She asks the driver.

“It’s New Year’s Eve. Everyone’s trying to get home.”

She knows London like the back of her hand, and knew she was close to home, so she quickly pays the man, thanking him, and runs off, passing all the cars.

11:50

She runs a bit faster, already seeing her street from where she is. Many people staring at her, but she didn’t care, she just had to get home.

11:55

She was only a couple of streets away, making her more determined than ever. She’d be damned if she didn’t make it in time.

11:59

Arriving at the front door, she pats all her pockets, looking for her keys. She can hear everyone around the neighborhood counting down.

She rapidly knocks on the door, hoping for it to just magically open. It did right when the clock struck midnight.

You were, however, caught off guard when you feel lips pressed onto yours, about to push the person away when a familiar pair of arms wrapped around your waist.

Wrapping your own arms around her neck, you deepen the kiss, cheers and fireworks can be heard in the background, neither of you paying any mind.

Pulling away, she rests her forehead against your, the both of your catching your breath.

“You made it.” Your voice was soft, not wanting to break the bubble you two are in.

“You’ve been my New Year’s kiss since 2018, I’d be damned if I ever missed one.” Leah pulls you back in for another kiss, before kneeling down and giving your bump a soft kiss. “It’s also our last one as a family of two.” She looks up at you from her kneeling position.

“Oh, how I love you so much.”

#woso x reader #woso #greynatomy #woso imagines #woso imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader

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agentstarkid · 17 days

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ENCHANTED TO MEET YOU ✦ DR3

✦ summary: Amid the vibrant energy of a New Year's Eve party, chance encounters led to unexpected connections where captivating eyes, a charming accent, and a carefree personality were all she needed to be forever enchanted by his presence.

✦ pairing: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ words: 7.3K

✦ warnings: female!reader, latina!reader, fluff, really sappy thoughts, there's a nine-year age gap.

─── The Joker & The Queen (Masterlist)

✦ pit wall live: holis babes! i'm back with another attempt at writing! the last chapters were angsty and i needed a lil bit of equilibrium so please enjoy reading how the night they met went. Y'all can thank Tally for it <3 + FYI, the next chapter is nowhere being finished yet—this is a little treat for y'all because of that— this past month has been crazy at my job and the chia seeds' harvest season starts in June so I'm not sure how much time—or energy—I'll have. I'd probably be a bit absent but I'll try my best to keep this show going. Also, can you guys find all the references? 👀 PLEASEEEE let me know what you think of this. 'kay, byeee.

December 31st, 2019 | 6:27 p.m.

As the world buzzed with excitement in anticipation of the approaching New Year, with its promises of new beginnings and fresh starts, I found myself yearning for something different. While others eagerly made plans for extravagant celebrations and wild parties, my heart longed for the simple comforts of home. The allure of crowded festivities and glittering fireworks paled in comparison to the warmth of my own cozy sanctuary, where I could embrace solitude. In a world that seems to thrive on noise and commotion, all I desired was the quiet embrace of familiarity and peace.

Despite my steadfast resolve to stay home, I found myself facing relentless persuasion from a certain Dutch DJ, my long-time friend Martin Garrix. His invitations to join him at a New Year's Eve party in New York, where he was scheduled to perform, grew more insistent with each passing week. Not content to pursue this endeavor alone —and knowing he wouldn’t be able to win this battle by himself—, Martin enlisted the help of my closest confidantes—Fio, my ever-reliable personal assistant; Vittoria, the vivacious soul who never shies away from adventure; and Danna, the wise and grounding presence in our lives.

You'd think that at 21, with a career that keeps reaching new heights everyday, I'd be excited to join those types of celebrations.

Nuh-uh.

Years ago, the prospect of attending a high-profile party filled with celebrities and socialites would have thrilled me beyond measure. Back then, I reveled in the glamour and excitement, relishing the chance to mingle with the elite and bask in the spotlight.

Furthermore, the aftermath of my final breakup with Harry —after two years together and the last year of it being on-and-off— had left me feeling disillusioned and wary of the intentions of those around me. Once the darling of the celebrity circuit, I now found myself excluded from the inner circles I once frequented, my invitations to exclusive events dried up almost overnight. It's a harsh reality I had to come to terms with, one that has left me questioning the true nature of the friendships I once held so dear.

With Martin's persistent pleas ringing in my ears, I gathered my resolve and attempted to explain my desire for a quiet evening in. “Guys, I really appreciate the effort, but I just want to stay home tonight,” I insisted, sinking deeper into the cushions of the couch. “I've been looking forward to a High School Musical marathon all week.”

Fio, my fiery assistant, raised an incredulous eyebrow. “High School Musical? Are you serious, chica? This is New Year's Eve! Yo lo que quiero es que salgas a janguear patabajo y pasarla de show. You can watch Zac Efron dance any other night!” Hailing from the sun-kissed shores of Puerto Rico, she wore her heritage proudly, her voice ringed out with the rhythmic cadence of her native land.

Vittoria, the true embodiment of Brazilian beauty and spirit with her sun-kissed complexion and luminous smile, chimed in with a playful grin. “Yeah, fofinha, come on! You can even ask Martin to play ‘The Start of Something Newʼ if it pleases you,” she grabbed my left hand between both of hers and tugged at it, “We can dance and sing along to Zac Efron together at the party!” she exclaimed, shaking my arm excitedly.

Well... I could definitely ask Martin to play it, he'd probably say yes in a heartbeat if it meant I would cave in and go to this party. After all, he's been awfully insistent on my attendance.

Danna, the 23-year-old American with an effortless grace and quiet confidence, offered a gentle smile. “I understand wanting a cozy night in, but trust me, you'll regret missing out on this party. It'll be a night to remember.” she punned with a wink and smiled when Vitto offered her an enthusiastically high five. Vitto sometimes reminded me of a puppy with an impressive amount of energy and excitement, always prompting me to try and keep up with her and leave my comfort zone.

Despite their protests, I remained steadfast in my decision. There was no way I was moving from this couch. “Thanks, guys, but I'm sticking to my plan. You all go ahead and have fun without me.” However, I was but a simple human surrounded by three forces of nature and it was super clear that my friends had other ideas and soon they were bustling around me, pulling me off the couch and insisting I get ready for the night ahead.

Reluctantly, I allowed the girls to coax me off the couch and into action. With Fio's enthusiastic energy, Vittoria's impeccable sense of style, and Danna's calming presence, they transformed my quiet night in into a whirlwind of preparation for the party.

Fio rummaged through my closet, pulling out a stunning short dress made with net-woven high-end silver jewelry that would—quoting her—help highlight and show mi sazón latino among the precious stones, while Vittoria offered her expert opinion on the perfect outfit. “Uff mami, that definitely screams ‘New Year's Eve glam’!” she declared, holding up the sparkling ensemble that catched the light just right.

Meanwhile, Danna took charge of my hair and makeup, opting for a soft, glamorous look. “You're going to turn heads tonight, babes,” she assured me, brushing a hint of shimmer onto my cheeks.

Despite my initial resistance, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement as I watched my reflection transform before my eyes.

“Who knows, babes,” Danna paused, carefully applying a nude shade gloss to my lips. “Maybe you’ll find your own Troy Bolton tonight, and have your own The Start of Something New moment” she wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

“You are on a roll tonight with the puns and references, aren’t you Dannita?” Fio peeked out her head from inside my closet and asked jokingly, letting out a laugh while she ducked from a damp sponge lightheartedly tossed her way by Danna.

“Nossa, cara! Você parece uma deusa!” Vitto exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine admiration. (Wow, dude! You look like a goddess!)

A blush crept up my cheeks at her compliment, and I turned to Danna with a grateful smile. “Seriously, Danni, you've outdone yourself,” I praised her, marveling at her skill in transforming me for the evening. “Thank you for making me feel like royalty.”

With a modest smile, Danna accepted my gratitude, her eyes shining with pride at the success of her handiwork. And then, just as the last finishing touches were being applied, she posed the inevitable question: “So, what are your New Year's resolutions?”

With a playful grin, I shrugged, the weight of the question settling over me like a familiar cloak. “I think this year,” I replied, my voice tinged with determination, “I just want to have fun and focus on myself. No boys, no drama, just me.” It was a simple resolution, yet one that carried a weight of significance, a commitment to prioritize my own happiness and well-being above all else.

As I sat there, unaware of their subtle exchange, the girls exchanged knowing glances and smiles, a silent understanding passing between them. Little did I know, they had orchestrated this moment with a shared knowledge of Martin's plans for the evening.

After I was allowed to rose from my seat, I grabbed and put on the large hoops and a set of very discreet rings that Vitto opted for, she explained to me that the expensive design I was wearing ‘perfectly adorned my tanned skin in such a way that I did not need almost any other accessory to elevate the look to its maximum potential’.

As I waited for the girls to finish getting ready, I idly scrolled through my WhatsApp contacts' status updates, seeking a distraction from the anticipation bubbling inside me. My mom uploaded a video showing all the food they had cooked for dinner. A homesick feeling hit me even if I just came back from spending two weeks at home. Next, Martin’s status showed up on my screen, he posted a photo showcasing his DJ set getting set up for the party. I tapped on his name and took a quick selfie flipping him off playfully and sent it, he didn’t take long to respond with “Does this mean I won?” followed by two pairs of eyes emoji. “Yes” I answered, also followed with the rolling eyes emoji.

I scrolled through a couple others, when I stumbled upon Selena’s. She posted a selfie all dolled up with her friends and pinned New York City as her location which piqued my curiosity. I composed a brief message, my fingers dancing over the keys as I typed out a casual inquiry about her plans for New Year's Eve in NYC. A response appeared on my screen moments later, “Hey girl! We’re actually heading to a party at The Bowery Hotel. What about you?” a smile tugged at the corners of my lips as excitement coursed through my body, I haven’t seen Sel in a while! We’ve been friends for years and she was one of the few people that was always there to lend me an ear and words of advice whenever I went through a rough patch in my life. “No way! That's where we’re going too! Maybe we'll bump into each other!”

“That’s awesome!!!!! I'll keep an eye out for you. See you there!” she replied. I let out a little happy sigh and shook my head. With my friends by my side, laughter filling the room, I began to anticipate the night ahead with a newfound sense of anticipation. Maybe, just maybe, this New Year's Eve won't be so bad after all.

Unbeknownst to the singer, Martin's persistent efforts to persuade her to attend the party were driven by a secret agenda. For months, he has harbored a hidden desire to introduce her to a friend of his, in the hopes of sparking a connection between them. Despite Martin's best intentions, his attempts to orchestrate their meeting have thus far been thwarted by her obliviousness to his matchmaking schemes.

After receiving the confirmation that the first part of his plan had been successful, Martin discreetly sent a text message to his friend, informing him of her attendance. “She's finally agreed to come,” he typed, a hint of excitement evident in his words. “Be ready to charm her off her feet.”

On a different hotel floor, a 5'10'' curly-haired Aussie’s mind raced with possibilities, wondering who this mystery woman could be.

With a shrug, he tapped out a quick reply, his fingers flying over the keys as he crafted a response. “Sounds intriguing,” he typed, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. “Looking forward to meeting her. Just hope I can keep up with your high expectations mate!” As he hit send, Daniel couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation that lingered in the air.

Daniel's phone buzzed again with a response from Martin, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the playful banter that ensued. “Oh, don't worry,” Martin's message read, “I have complete faith in you. Just be yourself, that’s all you need”

Daniel grinned at his friend's confidence. Despite not knowing much about this mysterious woman, he couldn't deny the thrill of anticipation that coursed through his veins. With a sense of determination, he resolved to make the most of this opportunity, determined to leave a lasting impression on whoever this enigmatic figure turned out to be.

Little did he know, this chance encounter would set the stage for a fateful meeting that would change the course of his life in ways he never could have imagined.

As the sleek black car pulled up to the curb outside The Bowery Hotel, the pulsating energy of New York City's nightlife enveloped us like a warm embrace. Stepping out onto the bustling sidewalk, we were greeted by the soft glow of string lights and the distant hum of music drifting from the rooftop above.

Linking arms, we made our way through the elegant lobby of the hotel, the click of our heels echoing against the polished marble floors. Excitement crackled in the air as we rode the elevator to the top floor, anticipation mounting with each passing moment.

As the doors slid open to reveal the rooftop terrace bathed in the soft glow of fairy lights, we were met with a breathtaking view of the city skyline glittering against the night sky. The sound of laughter and conversation filled the air, mingling with the infectious beat of the music that pulsed through the crowd.

We stepped out onto the terrace and navigated through the crowd, the scent of champagne and laughter filled the air; our eyes alight with wonder as we took in the scene before us. The air was alive with the hum of excitement for the new year ahead.

Finding a secluded corner of the rooftop, I paused and craned my neck in search of the blond responsible for me being away from my cozy apartment that night. I spotted him talking with some people near where his set was set up. When our eyes met, he waved enthusiastically, his excitement palpable even from a distance.

Exchanging quick pleasantries, Martin excused himself from the group he was chatting with, his strides purposeful as he made his way towards our little circle. With a grin that could light up the entire city, Martin reached our group, his charismatic presence immediately drawing us in. “Ladies, you look stunning tonight,” he greeted us with a cheeky smile on his face, “and well, well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence,” he teased, his voice laced with playful banter as he directed his attention towards me.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes in mock exasperation, a smirk playing at the corners of my lips. “I had four people ganging up on me, Martin, I couldn't exactly resist for long” I replied, my tone teasing as I shot him a playful glare.

Martin chuckled, his laughter infectious as he leaned in to give me a playful nudge. “That's what I like to hear! Now, let's show you what you almost missed by being a grumpy old lady tonight,” he exclaimed, his enthusiasm contagious as he gestured towards the bustling rooftop party surrounding us.

Half an hour later, Daniel made his way through the vibrant crowd, his eyes scanning the faces around him, he caught sight of Martin amidst the sea of revelers. With a nod of recognition, he approached his friend, a curious glint in his eyes.

Martin turned towards him with a grin, anticipation dancing in his eyes. “Hey! What’s up, mate?” he gave him a quick hug. “She's already here," Martin exclaimed, his voice tinged with excitement.

Daniel's interest was piqued, and he glanced around the crowded rooftop, searching for any indication of who Martin was referring to. “Oh, really?” Daniel replied, his curiosity evident in his tone.

Martin nodded eagerly, but instead of gesturing towards our group, he simply smiled mysteriously. “Yep, but I'll introduce you later. Duty calls,” he said with a shrug, gesturing towards the stage where he was needed.

Daniel's brow furrowed slightly in confusion, but he simply nodded in understanding as Martin hurried off to fulfill his obligations.

Martin's cryptic reply intrigued Daniel, sparking his curiosity further. He decided not to dwell on it for too long. With a shrug, he turned his attention back to the lively atmosphere of the party, eager to enjoy the night ahead. As he mingled with his friends, his thoughts occasionally drifted back to Martin's enigmatic words, wondering who exactly the DJ was referring to and what significance they held. But for now, he was content to simply soak in the excitement of the moment and let the night unfold as it may.

As Daniel's gaze lazily scanned the room, it landed on a group of vibrant individuals, among whom stood a figure that instantly commanded his attention. His eyes locked onto hers, and he felt a jolt of electricity course through him as their gazes met. In that fleeting moment, the noise of the party faded into the background, and all he could focus on was the captivating presence of the woman before him. Despite the nagging reminder of his supposed obligation to meet someone else, he found himself unable to tear his gaze away from her, his curiosity piqued and his interest unmistakably piqued.

Throughout the night, I found myself engaged in conversation with Selena and both of our friend groups, along with a few others who had approached us. However, the initial excitement I had felt was beginning to wane as my social battery ran low. I forced laughter and plastered on fake smiles as the people around us tried to create conversation, drawn to us for our status and connections rather than genuine friendship. My walls were up and I couldn’t help but be filled with nostalgia for the days when I effortlessly navigated the social whirlwind. God knows how I was able to endure all that, but now, that shiny façade of fame no longer held the appeal it once had. My eyes kept shifting around the multitude, trying to find an escape in the midst of the bustling party. Martin had to leave us after a while to greet other people that I’m sure he also invited. And now he was on the stage making sure everything was ready for the show, so that ruled him out of the equation.

I found myself wishing I could channel Fio's bold attitude, and just tell all these phonies to go pal’ carajo. She had this undeniable strength and fearlessness about her that I envied. I couldn't imagine myself possessing even a fraction of her confidence. Yet, all of these thoughts melted away when my gaze landed on his face across the rooftop.

In that moment, it felt as though the chaos around me dissipated, leaving only him in sharp focus. Our eyes met, and a smile graced his lips, instantly captivating me. There was something magnetic about him, an inexplicable allure that drew me in without a word spoken.

His smile held a warmth that felt achingly familiar, as if we shared some unspoken connection that transcended the bounds of time and place. With each passing moment, his gaze seemed to deepen, as though delving into the depths of my soul with a silent question: “Have we met before?” It was a question that echoed in the recesses of my mind, sparking a curiosity that I couldn't shake.

As I stood there, locked in this wordless exchange, I couldn't help but wonder about the secrets hidden behind those piercing eyes. Despite the throng of people around us, it felt as though we were the only two souls in the room, bound together by an invisible thread of fate.

Suddenly, his silhouette cut through the crowd, moving with purpose and determination. With each step he took, my heart quickened its pace, anticipation rising in tandem with the rhythm of my pulse. The air crackled with a silent energy and I found myself holding my breath caught in the gravity of his presence. The distance between us narrowed, until finally, he stood before me, his eyes locking onto mine with a magnetic intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

As he extended his hand towards me, a rush of warmth flooded through me, tingling at the touch of his skin against mine. “Hey,” he said, his voice smooth and resonant, sending a ripple of anticipation coursing through me. “I'm Daniel.” His name rolled off his tongue with a certain charm and a twinge of an accent, and I couldn't help but feel drawn to him even more.

“Hi�� I managed to say, attempting to regain my composure. “I'm Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue with a hint of curiosity. “Lovely name for a lovely lady.”

I could feel my cheeks flush at his compliment. “Thanks,” I replied, trying to play it cool. The spell broke for a moment as he suddenly realized that there was a group of people staring at him, his own cheeks seemed to redden for a second but he recovered fast and greeted them with a radiant smile. I couldn't help but admire the way he carried himself with such effortless charm. The realization sinked in that this wasn't just any charming stranger – holy shit, this was Daniel Ricciardo, the Formula 1 driver.

A playful glint danced in his eyes as his eyes drifted back to me, and a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips. His easy charm catched me off guard, and I found myself blushing involuntarily. I stole a quick glance at my friends, who shot me knowing looks, clearly amused by my reaction. It's as if they could read my mind, teasing me silently.

Okay Y/N, keep your cool. He is just a dude, I thought as I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. He is a gorgeous, smoking hot dude with a megawatt smile who smells wonderful. ¡Agh, mierda!.

Yeah, I was fucked. I guessed it was time to put those acting skills to use.

“So, Daniel, what brings you to this fabulous party?” I tilted my head as I asked, I prayed it came out in a flirty but nonchalant way and not in a way that revealed the nervous flutter in my stomach. Daniel grinned, his gaze lingered on me. “Well, a friend insisted that I come, said it was going to be the party of the year. And, I must say, meeting someone as captivating as you was an unexpected bonus.”

A light blush spreaded across my cheeks at his words, and I glanced away momentarily, trying to regain my composure. “Flattery will get you everywhere, won't it?”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I certainly hope so.”

I chuckled, trying to play it cool. “Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?”

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Challenge accepted,” he replied, leaning in closer. With a playful smirk, he asked, “But first, would you like to grab a drink?”

The playful exchange between us continued as we made our way towards the bar, the atmosphere around us seemingly faded into the background as we became engrossed in each other's company.

Our playful banter flowed effortlessly, each quip and witty remark met with a matching response from the other. It's like we were in our own little world, oblivious to the party swirling around us as we exchanged jokes and anecdotes. There's something about him that feels like coming home, yet I know we've never crossed paths before. His genuine smile and easygoing demeanor put me at ease, and I found myself opening up to him more than I had in a long time.

We both paused to stare at the DJ in his element, the corners of my mouth turned up when the Dutchy’s words ringed in my head: I almost missed this by being a grumpy old lady. I glanced over to find him already fixated on me, he smiled at me softly and a soft flutter danced in the pit of my stomach as I caught his eyes lingering on my lips. Was it just my imagination, or did the air around us suddenly crackle with an electric charge?

I tried to keep my tone light, “So, what's been the highlight of your evening so far?”

“If you’d asked me this about two hours ago I’d say the good vibes and great company,” he replied smoothly, his gaze never leaving mine. “But now that I've found you, I think I've found the best part of the evening.”

“Oh, stop it,” I chuckled, feeling my cheeks warm further.

“I mean it,” he insisted, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. “You've got this magnetic energy about you. I couldn't resist coming over to say hi.”

I felt a flutter in my stomach at his words. “Well, I'm glad you did,” I replied, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “It's nice to meet someone genuine at a party like this.”

Daniel grinned, leaning in a little closer. “Tell me about it. Most people here seem more interested in flashing cameras and rubbing elbows with celebrities than having a real conversation.”

I nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of relief wash over me that he felt the same way. “Exactly. It's refreshing to find someone who values authenticity.”

His smile widened. “Well, authenticity is my middle name,” he quipped, earning a laugh from me.

“Is it really?” I teased back, raising an eyebrow playfully.

He chuckled softly. “Not quite, but close enough,” he replied. The sound of his laughter was like music to my ears, washing over me in gentle waves. I couldn't help but smile in return, feeling a warmth spread through me at the sight of his genuine amusement. There was something so effortlessly charming about him, something that made it impossible not to be drawn to him.

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, Martin, from his place behind his console, grabbed the microphone, sending a burst of excitement through the crowd. The music softened, and all eyes turned towards him, eager to hear what he had to say. With a smile, he leaned into the mic.

“Alright, everyone! Get ready, because we're about to kick off the countdown to the new year!” his voice boomed over the speakers, igniting cheers and applause.

Daniel and I exchanged surprised glances, realizing how swiftly time had slipped away during our conversation. A sheepish grin spread across our faces as we chuckled at the realization.

“Wow, can you believe it?” Daniel exclaimed, his eyes wide with amazement.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I replied, “I know, right? It feels like we just got here!”

But despite our astonishment, there was an undeniable excitement in the air as we eagerly awaited the start of the countdown. Time may have slipped away unnoticed, but we were more than ready to welcome the new year with open arms.

With the pulsating energy of the crowd and the anticipation building up, Martin's announcement seemed to mark a pivotal moment in the night. It was as if time paused for just a brief moment, allowing us to reflect on the year gone by and the possibilities that lay ahead.

As the countdown began, the atmosphere on the terrace grew electric. Each second ticking by felt charged with anticipation, drawing us closer to the threshold of a new beginning. Daniel and I joined in with the crowd, counting down in unison as the numbers on the screen dwindled.

“Ten!... Nine!... Eight!” The voices around us echoed, filling the place with excitement and joy.

As the final seconds ticked away before the stroke of midnight, I stole a moment to scan the crowd, searching for familiar faces amidst the sea of revelers. My gaze locked onto Fio, Vitto, and Danna, who were huddled together nearby. Fio, ever perceptive, caught my gaze first. With a playful nudge to Vitto and Danna, she directed their attention towards me, and they turned in unison, their eyes met mine with knowing looks and a mischievous grin spread across their faces.

With playful antics, they puckered their lips in exaggerated kissy faces, teasing me in a lighthearted manner. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at their antics, a light blush tinting my cheeks in response to their jovial teasing.

Amidst the playful exchange, a fleeting thought crossed my mind. I wondered, for just a moment, if perhaps Daniel, standing closer than before, was considering the same playful gesture. But before I could dwell on the thought, the clock struck midnight, and the room erupted into cheers and celebration.

As the cheers filled the air, Daniel and I turned to each other with shy smiles, caught up in the infectious excitement of the moment. “Happy New Year,” we said simultaneously, our voices barely audible above the din of the crowd.

For a brief moment, there was a subtle shift in the air, a silent pause that seemed to linger between us. In that fleeting instant, it felt as if time slowed down, and I found myself meeting Daniel's gaze, our eyes locking in a silent exchange filled with unspoken thoughts and emotions.

There was a palpable tension, a delicate balance hanging in the air, as if both of us were teetering on the edge of something unspoken. In that moment, it seemed as though Daniel might lean in, his movements tentative and hesitant, as if contemplating a gesture that could change everything.

Was he gonna kiss me? Oh, I wouldn’t be mad if he stole a kiss.

Or several.

But then, just as quickly as the moment had arisen, it passed. With a soft smile and a gentle nod, Daniel seemed to reconsider, pulling back slightly as if to preserve the moment's delicate equilibrium. And in that simple gesture, the unspoken understanding between us remained.

As the moment hung in the air between Daniel and me, on the brink of something uncertain, the sounds of joyous screams suddenly pierced through the atmosphere, drawing our attention away.

Before I could fully process what was happening, I felt warm arms wrap around me, pulling me into an exuberant embrace. It was the girls, Fio, Vitto, and Danna, their laughter mingling with the cheers of the crowd as they enveloped me in their enthusiastic greeting.

"Happy New Year!" they exclaimed in unison, their voices filled with genuine warmth and excitement.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the timing of their arrival, grateful for the distraction from the almost-kiss tension that had begun to linger between Daniel and me. With their infectious energy and playful banter, they effortlessly diffused the slight awkwardness that had threatened to overshadow the moment.

As we exchanged hugs and well wishes, I couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for their timely intervention. In their presence, the lingering tension dissipated, replaced by a sense of sisterhood and shared joy.

And as we laughed and celebrated together, I couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps some moments were meant to be savored, not rushed. Whatever the future held for Daniel and me, I knew that in that moment, I was exactly where I was meant to be.

With infectious enthusiasm, the girls dragged me towards the terrace railings, eager to get a better view of the fireworks illuminating the night sky. Laughing and chatting animatedly, we leaned against the railing, our eyes fixed on the colorful explosions lighting up the darkness.

As we marveled at the spectacle unfolding before us, Daniel excused himself with a smile, promising to join us in just a moment. I watched him disappear into the crowd, his easy charm drawing smiles and greetings from everyone he came across.

Alone for a brief moment amidst the excitement of the celebration, I took a deep breath, allowing myself to soak in the energy of the night. The air was alive with anticipation, the promise of new beginnings hanging in the air like a tangible presence.

And as the fireworks continued to paint the sky with bursts of color and light, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the moments shared with friends, old and new. In that fleeting moment of tranquility, amidst the chaos of the celebration, I found solace in the knowledge that no matter where life took us, our bonds would always endure, guiding us through the highs and lows of the journey ahead. I felt grateful to call these incredible women my friends. And as the last remnants of the fireworks faded into the night, I turned to raise my glass in a toast with the girls following, my heart full with the promise of the new year ahead.

Just as I turned back to try and catch a glimpse of a certain Aussie in the crowd, Daniel appeared at my side with a warm smile. His eyes sparkled with the residual excitement of the celebration, and his easygoing demeanor put me at ease.

“Hey there,” he greeted me, his voice carrying over the lingering echoes of the fireworks. “Did you enjoy the show?”

I returned his smile with a nod, the exhilaration of the moment still coursing through my veins. “It was amazing,” I replied, my voice filled with genuine awe. “I can't believe how quickly the year flew by.”

Daniel chuckled softly, his gaze drifting towards the horizon where the last traces of the fireworks faded into the darkness. “Yeah, 2019 feels like it was yesterday,” he quipped, a playful twist to his words.

I couldn't help but laugh at his silly joke, shaking my head in amusement. Despite its simplicity, his humor didn’t fail to bring a smile to my face. And as my laughter echoed into the night, I noticed Daniel's own smile widening, his eyes alight with infectious joy.

As my laughter subsided, Daniel's eyes softened, his gaze lingering on me with a warmth that sent a flutter through my chest. In the soft glow of the terrace lights, his features seemed to soften, his smile taking on a tender quality.

“You know,” he began, his voice gentle, “you look absolutely beautiful under the firework lights.”

A blush rose to my cheeks at his words, a rush of warmth spreading through me at the unexpected compliment. It was a simple gesture, but it carried a weight of sincerity that touched me deeply.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, but filled with genuine appreciation.

Daniel's gaze held mine for a moment longer, his expression softening even further as he had the purest beam of light on his face that made my heart melt. “Actually,” he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “you outshine even the fireworks themselves.”

A surprised chuckle escaped my lips, and I could feel my cheeks flush with a warmth that spread from his endearing words. His unexpected compliment caught me off guard, leaving me momentarily speechless.

It was such a simple yet profoundly sweet sentiment, and it took me by surprise in the best possible way.

As Daniel's sweet words lingered in the air, a comfortable silence settled between us, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the continuing celebration. It was a couple minutes after midnight, and there were already a couple resolutions broken.

I couldn't help but chuckle softly at the thought, the warmth of Daniel's presence enveloping me like a comforting embrace. Despite the inevitable imperfections of the past year, there was a sense of hope and possibility lingering in the air for this new one, a reminder that every moment held the potential for growth and renewal.

We continued to chat and laugh as we made our way to one of the high tables to continue our conversation in a more comfortable setting. Martin even made an appearance, greeting us with his usual kind and friendly attitude. A shit-eating grin adorned his face as he saw us talking. He inconspicuously winked at me which prompted me to affectionately roll my eyes.

Okay Martin, I get it, you were right...again.

But one curious thing happened when Martin approached. I noticed a flicker of apology in Daniel's eyes, a subtle shift in his demeanor that caught my attention. Confused, I glanced at him, wondering what had prompted this sudden change. It wasn't until much later that I would come to understand the reason behind his apologetic expression.

Unbeknownst to me, Daniel had misunderstood Martin's intentions, believing that the girl he had spoken to him about was someone else entirely. In his mind, there was no connection between Martin's matchmaking scheme and the girl he had been conversing with all along—me.

And so, we were unaware of the intricate web of plans and schemes being woven around us. Little did I know, the seeds of something special had already been planted, waiting to bloom and blossom in the days and weeks to come.

A while later, one of the waiters passed by, weaving through the crowd. Seizing the opportunity, Daniel called out to him, “Excuse me, do you have a pen?”

The waiter nodded and swiftly produced one, handing it over with a friendly smile. Once he left, Daniel grabbed a napkin from the table and quickly sketched out a tic-tac-toe grid with the pen. With a mischievous grin, he declared, “Let's make a deal. If I win, you have to give me your number.”

I couldn't help but laugh at his spontaneous challenge, the playful glint in his eyes infectious. “Alright, you're on,” I replied, picking up the pen to make my first move.

“But,” I paused with a smirk. I raised an eyebrow at Daniel, unable to suppress a playful grin. “What do I get if I win?” I challenged him, my tone teasing and light.

Daniel's lips curled into a flirtatious smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well,” he replied, leaning in closer with a playful glint in his eyes, “if you win, you get my number instead.”

His response elicited another laugh from me, the playful banter adding to the already vibrant energy between us. With a nod of agreement, I made my move, determined to give him a run for his money.

However, despite my best efforts, Daniel proved to be a formidable opponent—athletes do tend to have another level of competitiveness after all, even with the smallest and silliest things—, and before I knew it, he had emerged victorious, marking the final square with a triumphant flourish.

With a mock sigh of defeat, I conceded, acknowledging his win with good humor. “Alright, you got me,” I chuckled, conceding to his victory. “Looks like I owe you my number.”

With a pleased smile he passed me his phone. As I began typing my number into Daniel's phone, focused on the task at hand, I felt a sudden movement beside me. Glancing up, I saw Daniel grab another napkin, his expression mischievous as he quickly scribbled something onto it.

Curious, I watched as he slid the napkin across the table towards me. My eyes widened in surprise as I read the words written in his handwriting: “You are cute.”

A warmth spread through me at his unexpected gesture, a rush of flattered excitement tingling in my veins. With a playful smile, I looked up to meet his gaze, my heart fluttering with anticipation.

“Smooth move,” I teased, unable to hide the smile that danced on my lips. “But I think you've already won me over with your charm.”

As I finished adding my number to his phone, I slid it back across the table towards him. With a grin, Daniel accepted his phone back, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction at my response. “Can't blame a bloke for trying,” he quipped, his tone light and playful.

The playful energy between us only seemed to intensify and I found myself drawn further into the magnetic pull of Daniel's presence, captivated by his whiskey-colored eyes that held a depth that seemed to unravel the secrets of the universe. And when he spoke, his Australian accent danced with a melodic cadence that resonated deep within my soul, infusing every word with a warmth and charm that was impossible to resist.

But it wasn't just his accent that captivated me—it was his carefree personality, his easygoing demeanor that made every moment feel effortless and free. He laughed with abandon, his infectious joy spreading like wildfire and igniting a spark of laughter within me.

And then there were his hands, expressive and animated as he spoke, each gesture painting a vivid picture of his thoughts and emotions. It was as if his hands had a language of their own, weaving tales of adventures that left me hanging on his every word.

Just as the party was reaching its peak and the energy in the room soared, one of the girls came up to me with a sense of urgency in her expression. “Hey babes, we need to head out already,” she informed me, a hint of regret in her voice.

My heart sank at the sudden announcement, realizing the abrupt end to the evening's festivities. With a mixture of disappointment and resignation, I turned to Daniel, silently conveying my apologies with a glance.

“I'm sorry, but Vitto's had a bit too much to drink,” Danna explained, her tone apologetic as she gestured towards our intoxicated companion. “We need to get her home.”

There was a flicker of disappointment in Daniel's eyes, mirrored by my own sense of frustration at the untimely interruption.

With a sympathetic smile, Daniel nodded in understanding, his expression reflecting a mixture of disappointment and acceptance. “Of course, safety first,” he replied, his voice filled with empathy. “Take care, and hopefully, we'll see each other again soon.”

As I exchanged final farewells with Daniel, a pang of regret lingered in the air, accompanied by the bittersweet realization that our time together had been cut short. Yet, amidst the disappointment, there was a glimmer of hope, a silent promise of future encounters.

With a nod of gratitude, I turned to join my friends. And as I reached the girls, I couldn't help but sigh softly, my concern for Vitto mixing with a hint of amusement. “Ay, Vitto,” I murmured, shaking my head in disbelief at how quickly she had managed to get drunk in just an hour.

Vitto, in her intoxicated state, offered a drunken apology and let out a soft laugh, her carefree demeanor infectious. “Sorry,” she slurred, her words accompanied by a playful giggle.

I couldn't help but smile at her antics, reassured by her good spirits despite the unexpected turn of events. “It's okay,” I assured her, placing an arm around her shoulder. “Let's get you home safely.”

As I turned to leave, I couldn't resist stealing a last glimpse back at Daniel. To my surprise, I found him still staring at me, his smile widening as he waved goodbye. A rush of warmth flooded through me at the sight.

On our way home, the girls couldn't resist teasing me about Daniel, joking about how we had spent the whole night together. Their playful banter only served to deepen my blush, fueling the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. The city lights blurred into a mosaic of colors outside the car window and the laughter of the girls faded into the background as I found myself lost in the memory of Daniel's captivating smile, the warmth of his gaze still lingering in the corners of my mind.

I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something truly special about that smile, something that lingered long after the party had ended and the night had grown quiet. To me, it wasn't just any smile—it was warm, genuine, and filled with an undeniable spark that seemed to reach straight into my soul. It was a smile that spoke volumes, conveying a sense of understanding, a twinge of mischief, and unspoken promise that left me breathless with anticipation.

With a soft sigh, I couldn't help but reflect on the serendipitous twist of fate that had brought us together tonight. In that brief moment of connection, amidst the music and laughter, I had felt a spark of something special—a connection that defied explanation and left me yearning for more.

And as I stared out into the night, the city lights twinkling like stars in the darkness, I knew that I would carry the memory of that encounter with me forever. In that moment, meeting him felt like a spell had been cast upon me, capturing my heart in an instant.

The thought made a soft smile tug at the corners of my lips, my heart fluttering with the anticipation of what the future might hold.

At the end of the night, all I knew was,

Daniel, I was enchanted to meet you.

#the joker and the queen fic #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #latina!reader #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo fluff #( agentstarkid's works )

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hugheses · 2 months

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#im busy but i will get the full hq pics later. for now everyone read this whole article its very WAHHH #jack hughes #luke hughes

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dailyhelldorm · 28 days

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New Office Interactions - Rei's relation

This is an archiving post from a Twitter thread. This will get updated regularly as I find more interactions in the future.

Rei is your truly Mr.Worldwide. Happy 180 cm man having more friends than his roommate.

Before you start...

This is a more refined version compared to the thread, I fixed my wording and mistakes. Also adding images and the original credits.

I don't put the characters in any order, everything is based on the uploaded day of the screenshots to determine whether the interaction is old or new.

It is said that some of the old interactions have been deleted from the game, the purpose of this post is to archive.

Disclaimer: Most of the pictures don't belong to me, and I own none. They rightfully belong to the person who uploads the screenshots and of course, Happy Element K. K.

Rei's New Interactions

This is a new interaction. Images by どろしー @dorothyy7

Rei: Ritsu, do you want to go out with me? Ritsu: You think I want to go out with you...?

This is a new interaction. Images by しお @son873

Raika: I am so happy I am able to meet you. Rei: You don't need to be in awe like that.

This is a new interaction. Images by しお @son873

Rinne: Rei-chan doesn't drink alcohol huh? Rei: Though I might be good to enjoy some wine.

This is a new interaction. Images by サラン🌟 @SakurauSalan

Nagisa: ...Did you change your shampoo? Rei: You are the first one who realized that... ♪

This is a new interaction. Images by ちんあなご　🍅🥞 @nnn_t06

Rei: Where do you want the four of us to go? Kaoru: How about we try to contact and ask everyone?

This is a new interaction. Images by フェイ。(雪華) @_fe_i

Hinata: Yuuta-kun doesn't send me any reply. Rei: Me too, Ritsu only leaves me on read and ignores my messages too.

This is a new interaction. Images by ～🦇ひろあさ🍬～ @gekimucyu

Rei: Itsuki-kun is looking for you. Mika: We met just now, is there something wrong?

This is a new interaction. Images by しお @son873

Rei: Shall we go on a walk together? Tatsumi: Yes, let’s go together.

This is a new interaction. Images by かのん @kanon_lvri

Koga: Hey, let’s get on with our lesson quickly! Rei: Koga is as energetic as always, aren’t you?

This is a new interaction. Images by 🍗メス豚の嬢ちゃん🥞 @fieldans

Hokuto: I want you to come and watch our lesson. Rei: I look forward to seeing your growth ♪

This is a new interaction. Images by しお @son873

Rei: Might you have a chat with me for a little while? Midori: Eh, why me…?

This is a new interaction. Images by Hell Dorm Diary.

Rei: Do you have any dissatisfaction when living in the dorm? Aira: Ahaha… I have nothing in particular.

Rei's Old Interactions

Images by 美緒☪︎ᡣ𐭩 @mio_nekura

Rei: If you are free, how about having a chat with me for a little bit? Keito: Fuh, if it is only for a while then fine.

Images by ゔぁろ @KarasU_6970

Rei: Is Hibiki-kun in good shape? Tomoya: ...Why are you asking me?

Images by 紅 @krni_en

Rei: You are so diligent, just like someone I know ♪ Souma: Who might you be speaking about?

Images by おさむ @gu_min_min

Rei: On our next recording, what should we talk about? Kaoru: How about we talk about our recent day off?

Images by とこりん @dr12v3tu12

Rei: I wonder where I put the document...? Koga: Ya for real... There, ain’t this the one?

Images by ネネ @neneansta

Rei: Can you tell me about Ritsu’s favorite brand of tea? Hajime: Of course~ I would be happy to tell you ♪

Images by ネネ @neneansta

Kiryu: Danna is looking for you just now. Rei: Fumu. I hope his talk will be something good.

Images by ネネ @neneansta

Rei: Are you relishing in the life of a college student? Nazuna: Yep, I have learned a lot of things.

#translation #rei sakuma #dorm translation #enstars translation

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aanoia · 10 months

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arms

Sirius Black x reader

Song; arms by Christina Perri

Words; 2019

Warnings; Sirius :)

I may have went a little overboard with the wedding but oh well

Please send in some requests (for ppl who have already requested I'm working on them !!)

I never thought that you'd be the one to hold my heart

But you came around and you knocked me off the ground from the start

It was no secret to anyone in Hogwarts that Sirius Black hated Slytherins. He had vowed to himself to never interact with one if not in the circumstance of an argument or prank. He’d honestly say he hated Slytherins more than he loved his best friends, and he would never ever, ever change his mind that they were evil.

Imagine the boy's surprise when he looked up from his food and his eyes momentarily caught sight of the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Her hair fell perfectly around her face as her eyes shined. She had the most beautiful smile and the cutest nose that scrunched up as she laughed with her friends. Everything about the girl put him in a trance, that was until his world was shook as he saw the color of her tie. How could something so beautiful be associated with something so ugly?

You put your arms around me

And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go

You put your arms around me and I'm home

Sirius’ body instantly relaxed as a familiar pair of arms wrapped around his torso. Y/n softly kissed in between his shoulder blades and sighed as she relished in his warmth. He dropped the letter he had received from his parents and put his hands upon hers, squeezing gently.

“Hello there, Siri.” Y/n greeted, her voice muffled by Sirius’ jumper.

He laughed softly, “Hello, love. What’s up?”

Sirius felt her shoulders move up in a shrug, “Missed you, is all.” She mumbled and his heart warmed. The sorting hat had to have made a mistake because this girl was no Slytherin, she was an angel sent from the heavens.

How many times will you let me change my mind and turn around

“I’m sorry, Y/n/n. I just can’t do this.” Sirius said with tears in his eyes. He watched as the love of his life wiped her own tears off her cheeks and gave him a broken smile.

“Come back to me when you’re ready, yeah?”

Sirius shook his head, “It’s not like that this time. I’m not coming back.”

“You say that every time.”

I can't decide if I'll let you save my life or if I'll drown

Sirius clutched the chest of his jumped tightly, gritting his teeth in an attempt to keep his sobs silent. His heart felt as it was being choked as the lump in his throat grew. The cool air of the night brushed its fingers through Sirius’ hair and he looked to the sky with blurry eyes, resisting the urge to just scream until his lungs gave out.

Trapped in his own bubble, he missed the sound of footsteps walking up the stairs of the astronomy tower. He missed the door opening and the loud thud of an old, hardcover book hitting the ground. All he knew was the moment familiar arms wrapped around his shoulders he broke and he finally let the sobs leave his throat.

I hope that you see right through my walls

I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Y/n quietly asked her boyfriend as he silently watched his friends play chess by the fire.

He turned his head with a small smile, “Whatever do you mean, beautiful?”

Y/n sighed and grabbed his hand, “You play with your necklace when you’re stressed out. You’ve been fiddling with it all day, Siri.”

Sirius’ smile fell and his head dropped, “It just sucks.”

Y/n gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into her chest. “What sucks, my love?”

Sirius let out a dramatic sigh, “Everything. My parents. Sch- wait, how are you in here?” He asked abruptly, sitting up to look his girlfriend in the face.

She smirked, “I have my ways.”

I'll never let a love get so close

You put your arms around me and I'm home

“What’s so special about her, Pads? You’ve never let a girl do this to you.” James asked Sirius as they cleaned up after Quidditch practice.

Sirius smiled as he got a familiar glint in his eyes, “She’s my Lily, Prongs. She’s my everything.”

James laughed and shook his head, sighing to himself, “Never thought I’d see my best friend genuinely be in love with a girl. I’m happy for you, mate.”

The world is coming down on me and I can't find a reason to be loved

I never wanna leave you but I can't make you bleed if I'm alone

“Sirius, you need to stop!” Y/n yelled, the rain soaking her hair, she couldn’t tell what was raindrops and what was her own tears.

“No! No, I won’t! I’m done, this isn’t working!” He sobbed, stumbling back.

“Sirius, goddamnit, I love you! I fucking love you!”

He shook his head bitterly, “No, no you don’t. The two people who are supposed to love me unconditionally kicked me out for fucks sake! No one fucking loves me, Y/n! No one!”

“I do!” She reasoned. “I do. I love you and I get it. I get why you don’t think anyone can love you but I do, Siri. Please.”

You put your arms around me

And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go

Sirius fell to his knees, his body shaking, he could barely hear her over the rain and blood rushing to his head. She knelt in front of him and wrapped her arms around his body, holding on impossibly tight.

“I need you to, please, just let me love you. I need you to- Fuck, Sirius, I need you.” She begged and he threw his arms around her as well.

“Don’t let me go, please.” Sirius whispered in Y/n’s ear.

She nodded, “I won’t. Never.”

I hope that you see right through my walls

I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling

Y/n froze as she felt Sirius tense beside her and she looked up. Her face dropped as she saw his mother angrily storming towards them.

“Come on, we must go. I’d like to go back to the castle and cuddle for a while.” She said and pulled him out of the shop and into the busy streets.

“Sirius!” They heard faintly and the man flinched.

“No, it’s okay. Come on, let’s hurry. We can stop by the kitchens and the elves like me so they’ll probably make us something if we ask nicely, yeah?” Y/n asked gently, trying to distract him and they hurried up the path.

Sirius nodded with a small smile, “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

Sirius furrowed his brows, “Taking me away from my mom?”

Y/n laughed, “You’re mom? Where? Have you hit your head, Sirius?” She asked with a teasing smile.

I'll never let a love get so close

You put your arms around me and I'm home

“I’m so lucky to have you.” Sirius whispered late at night. The soft snores from James and the quiet breathing from the rest of the Marauders being the only sounds in the room.

“Yeah?” Y/n asked, smiling.

“Yeah.”

“I love you too, Sirius.”

I tried my best to never let you in to see the truth

And I've never opened up

I've never truly loved

“I’ve never, like- I’ve never-” Sirius groaned angrily, not being able to find the words.

Y/n crossed her arms, “Never what, Sirius?”

He sighed, “I’ve never done this before. And I really don’t want you to be frustrated with me because I’m trying but I don’t- I don’t know how.” He confessed and the girls face softened.

“Oh, Sirius.” She pulled him into a gentle hug. “I’m so sorry for getting angry. It’s okay that you don’t know what to do. Truthfully, I don’t either. But we’ll figure it out, okay? Together.”

Sirius nodded, finding comfort in her hugs, “Together.”

'Till you put your arms around me

And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go

“Are you sure you want to be with me?” Sirius asked randomly.

Y/n smiled at her boyfriend, “Never been more sure of anything in my life. Except for maybe Potter being a dimwit, but you know what I mean.”

“What if I hurt you?”

“I’ll put a bandaid on. Easy peasy.”

I hope that you see right through my walls

I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling

I'll never let a love get so close

“Marriage is a joyous occasion. It is connected in our thoughts with the charm of love, the warmth of home, and with all that is pleasant, as being one of the most important events of our lives. Its sacredness and unity is the most significant and binding covenant known in human relations. Sirius and Y/n, let me charge you both to remember that your future happiness is to be in mutual consideration, patience, kindness, confidence, and affection. It is the duty of each of you to find your greatest joy in the company of the other; to remember that your love pledged today must remain undivided for a lifetime.” The priest recited with a smile on his face.

Sirius smiled at his soon to be wife, a single tear slipping down his cheek. Y/n gently wiped it from his face and brought her hand back to her side with a wide smile, tears filling her own eyes.

“It is your duty, Sirius, to be to Y/n, a considerate, tender, faithful, and loving husband: to support, guide and cherish her in prosperity and trouble; to thoughtfully and carefully enlarge the place she holds in your life; to constantly show to her the tokens of your affection, to shelter her from danger, and to love her with an unchangeable love.” Sirius nodded, dedicated to fulfilling everything he just said.

“It is your duty, Y/n, to be to Sirius, a considerate, tender, faithful, and loving wife; to comfort, guide and cherish him in prosperity and trouble; to give to him the unfailing pieces of evidence of your affection; and to continue making the place he holds in your heart, broader and deeper; to support him, value him and work with him to make your marriage the very best that it can be.”

You put your arms around me and I'm home

“If you are ready to assume the obligations and duties before God, as I have defined them, you will unite your hands and pledge your love and your lives to each other.” Sirius grabbed onto Y/n’s hands, rubbing small and soothing circled onto her soft skin. The priest looked at Sirius, “Groom, repeat after me. I, Sirius, take you, Y/n, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

“I, Sirius, take you, Y/n, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

“To have and to hold, from this day forward.”

“For better, for worse.”

“For richer, for poorer.”

“In sickness and in health.”

“To love and to cherish.”

“For as long as we may live.”

“This is my solemn vow.”

The priest smiled, “Very good. Now bride, please repeat after me.” The two went through the same speech, having to stop a few times as Y/n’s voice cracked. “Sirius, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Sirius nodded, “I do.”

“Y/n, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Of course, I do.”

The priest nodded, “Groom, you may kiss the bride.”

Sirius immediately brought their lips together as everyone cheered. Y/n wrapped her arms around Sirius’ neck, never feeling happiness quite like this.

You put your arms around me and I'm home

Taglist (if you'd like to be added comment :))

@loving-and-dreaming @1lellykins

#aanoia #romance #marauders era #remus lupin #the marauders #james & peter & remus & sirius #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius being sirius #harry potter #peter pettigrew #Spotify

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bunchashapes · 3 months

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whadda ya really like about pf2e over 5e? i personally haven’t been able to really get into it like i have dnd.

(really long answer sorry) i started playing dnd back in high school when 3.5 was around. i did enjoy it a lot but i think many agree that it was very over-complicated. i then played and enjoyed a lot of 5e as both a player and dm but i eventually sort of grew tired of it since it was TOO simple in some cases.

(to be clear!! i think that simplicity and ease of play is great, it helped get a ton of people into tabletop games that probably otherwise wouldn’t have tried them, and it’s overall a great vessel for player-weighted fantasy roleplay. 5e still has a place in my heart even if i never play it anymore)

i had several reasons for switching to pf2e. the first was that my friends started a 2e campaign in 2019 (maybe 2020?) to try it out and i wanted to play with them (and however many years later we’re still playing it! (and not even halfway done lol)). jumping in with a group of friends that you already play with makes it much easier

the second is that i think pf2e perfectly straddles that middle distance between 3.5e and 5e in terms of mechanical density. the 3-action combat system is awesome and i think more games should have it, but it also has what i like to call “handwave” potential like 5e. if you don’t like how a certain rule works, just do whatever you want! my friends and i barely use the exploration actions like Seek, we just enter a new place and do perception checks like you’d do in 5e

the final reason is very important: 5e is too safe. in standard play (assuming your dm isn’t being especially cruel), it is really really REALLY hard for players to die. most people would say this is a good thing and i agree that most tables enjoy this aspect about it. pf2e, on the other hand, is FAR less safe. it’s very balanced in that you’re usually strong and capable but it is VERY easy to get really fucked up if you’re not careful and that’s great! the thrill of potentially losing your character is (imo) a very important motivator for games like this. some players may not see it the same way but me and my friends that i play with relish that danger.

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amongthe141 · 7 months

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The Giver - Chapter 1

By: @amongthe141

Fandom: Call of Duty Video Game

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Y/N female reader, John Price, Frank Woods, more 141 to follow

Tags: Slow burn, Captain John Price x fem!reader, first ever shared writing...eek, sorry for grammar or lack of edits I tried, starts 2019 remake universe, yes I made Frank Woods look like a Santa and not sorry, w

Summary: Y/N is introduced to Captain John Price via Frank Woods and Y/N's life is about to become...more complicated.

Words: 1586

The knock on the door should have been promptly replied back with a bark somewhere to the tune of "...the hell you want" from the eighty some old senior man purposely sitting within the walls of his room in isolation. Whether it was for peace or reliving of fading memories but in the case of Retired Master Sergeant Frank Woods it was more likely choosing to avoid the realization that he was old when the other residents and staff constantly make one such has himself remember it on the daily. There were those who Woods allowed acceptance to enter freely…the evolution of his bark differs greatly from the first day he resided to now…the bark wasn’t so much as a bite if it was one of the favored few, which Y/N could be counted as one of them, if not the top tier of them. It wasn’t an easy achievement but one with a bit of patience and a bit of stubbornness Y/N was able to conquer. It also helped that Y/N and Woods were the troublemakers under this roof when they set their minds to it. This is why the absence of this familiar greeting put her on edge and her breathing hitched in concern.

The next group of knocks were louder, though knocking loud was always a must for any resident under this household because their hearing is shit if they were normal but they weren't. These men who lived here at this privatized retirement home had extra damage to their ears from enemy explosions, recanting to Y/N's ears in downtime storytelling or reasoning as to why their screams would wake her up at night from constant night terrors. So this last extra loud knock on Frank Woods door should have had him absolutely hysterical at her even to somewhere deep down finding superpowers to strengthen his bad knees to walk out of his bound chair to rock across his room to open the door to relay such hysterics. But as the seconds ticked and still no reply a moment of fear hit her hard. Many veterans had passed in their sleep here, death was an all too familiar experience since Y/N started five years ago, but she wasn't ready for the stubborn old man that lived to prove what a grumpy old man should be, nor one who relished in the delight of being called an asshole. She would never admit it but he was her favorite person in the converted old Victorian house they called home and Y/N wasn't ready to say an early goodbye or any goodbyes at all.

Pushing through her fear, the dark stained door opened with an eerie scream from its hinges as the room came to life as the soft glows from the afternoon sun seeped through the countless windows. The same dark stain of the door flowed adjacent to the corners where ceiling and walls and floors met in this cream colored room that belonged to Woods. Military flags stretched on the walls here and there as if it was some piece of classic art. Photos littered in frames or lay about every surface of Frank Wood’s room where there were hardly any surfaces left, unlike the floor which he needed ample space for his wheelchair to get by. The faces that stared at her back, some she knew of from when Frank allowed himself to tell her tid bits from his past, others were of the younger Frank, a more dangerous yet addictive Woods who didn't give five fucks and would do as he pleased.

Y/N could see herself getting in trouble with a younger Frank, she already did with the senior version ever since he first stepped within these hallowed halls (yes, he was a younger old man then… too proud to submit as the new guy lifebound eventually for his wheelchair) into the retirement house with other old geezers (his words at the beginning, not Y/Ns, never hers).

Y/N had been in this room a million times, could tell you where everything was and should be, but in the first moments of entering her fear made it all seem like a stranger's room instead as her eyes reluctantly stared at the empty but made up bed. One area cleared but…, what if he fell off the bed and was behind it? A sigh from Y/N released as again another spot cleared after as she approached closer to the bed to see to the other side. Y/N shifted the large ice bucket in her grasp as carrying the terror of finding him dead in the room subsided. Before asking "but where the hell was he" a coughing fit of laughter snuck in like a cool breeze from the screened door and she allowed herself to smile a silly smile as she shook her head, the bottles in the bucket clinking against each other as if rejoiced the location was given away to where a very live and fiery Woods would be. Y/N quickly crossed across the room and pushed through the reluctant screaming screen door that led out to the covered patio with her free hip, she couldn't help but tilt her head as she stared at Woods and his unexpected guest.

"Y/N!" Frank mustered to say when he was able to speak instead of cackle (it's what Y/N used to describe the coughing fits most life smokers end up getting) "Where the hell have you been?"

"Working very hard apparently being your bar wench" she said playfully as she went about carefully placing the basket of chilled beer on the table between Woods and his guest, who stood up as a bulky tower over the two of them to help her set it down very gentlemanly…probably a beer enthusiast as Woods where no drop of spilt beer should fall! He waited for Y/N to lean against the arm of the only free chair before sitting back down "Well this is certainly unexpected".

It wasn't till he spoke did she actually make eye contact with this man. Maybe it was the British accent that gave it clearly away that he wasn't a relation to Woods (as if any did visit if there were any) , perhaps the mutton chops of a beard adorning his face peppered with graying and light patches of hair teasing his age, or perhaps the beanie that bound his hair underneath…Y/N stopped processing every little detail of the man in her brain to jumpstart the point that his clear ocean blue eyes had her hooked, lined, and smitten and very much addicted instantly. Woods leaned over and passed him a cold one before jabbing one at Y/N’s closest though before taking his own, breaking her concentration on purpose but more likely for the urgency to enjoy a cold one.

Y/N smiled before twisting the cap off as Woods unceremoniously hit the cap off the side of the wheelchair’s many metal perks, deeping the dent. "What can I say, privatized retirement houses do come with perks" Woods said before downing half the bottle and then nonchalantly introducing "Y/N meet Captain John Price".

Y/N was greeted with a "Pleasure" and courteous nod with a non-mistaken smirk surrounded by his beard before he continued "When you said Woods you were in a private home, let alone a Veteran one, I indeed was not expecting this to be so…" "Homely". "Exactly".

"Thank you, when my Aunt inherited this place she didn't want it to be a place someone couldn't call home. Most other retirement homes are too hospital-like and…" "Cold". Y/N couldn't help but smile wide at them completing each other’s thoughts, "Exactly. Most have to come to retirement homes involuntarily, if bringing a bucket of cold beer helps then that's what we do." Y/N explained after more small inquiries came from Price that there were 6 other residents at the house. The staff was there 24/7 by shifts or by personal employment by the resident but Y/N was the only other person who resided there full time with her Aunt. "Life functions as a normal everyday household besides the times I get to boss this guy around" Wood’s playful eye roll earns him laugh before Y/N continues. "We make sure everyone makes their appointments, gets their meds, therapy, etc."

"Reliable and recommendable" Price said almost in a prideful tone before Woods snorted "More like lucky. VA benefits and regulations nowadays are death sentences to places like this. You won't be able to find this when you're my age for military men like us, for what we do!" Those words pulled every scar and blemish on Price to Y/Ns eyesight immediately. She's seen them hundred times over on the Veterans who have come and gone. The war battle scars they took home and relive most nights. "I better enjoy it then when I can aye?" A known silence is shared between the men as Woods nods in answer.

"Well I better go check on things and leave you two at it. Anything needed before I go?" "No, not at this time". "Well if you do, Woods will make sure we know" and she did the same thing she's done a hundred times over with her favorite grumpy old man, no matter the state he was in, it always calmed and reassured him, with that gentle and soft squeeze of her hand on his shoulder incase it was ever the last time to do it. Y/N just didn't know how soon that time was nearing.

#call of duty fanfic #modern warfare fanfic #captain john price #frank woods #captain john price x reader

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oeldeservesthenorris · 2 months

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The original title for this article was "Hughes Brother Jack relishes opportunity to once again try and overshadow younger brother Luke and steal limelight from record-setting older brother Quinn"

#nhl #nhl hockey #nhl players #quinn hughes #vancouver canucks #short king #nhl2023 2024 #jack hughes #new jersey devils #luke hughes #nj devils #captain quinn hughes #captainquinton #captain quinn #thats my captain

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cienie-isengardu · 8 months

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Bi-Han, Sektor & Frost: parricide

Bi-Han: MK1 story mode (2023)

Sub-Zero: He [father] did us a favor, having that accident. And I was right to let him die.

Frost: MK11 intro dialogue vs Jax Briggs (2019)

Frost: I killed my mother when I was twelve.

Sektor: MK9 (2011)

Character Bio:

"The son of the Grand Master, it was never in question that Sektor would join the Lin Kuei. What pleases the Grand Master is the degree to which his son relishes the life of an assassin. The secretive clan allows Sektor to express his darker nature, using any means necessary to complete his tasks. Hired by Shang Tsung, his current assignment is to attend the Mortal Kombat tournament and eliminate the Earthrealm competitors before they have a chance to compete. Though this mission will put his clan in good standing with Shao Kahn, Sektor's ultimate goal is to supplant his father as Grand Master of the Lin Kuei."

Sektor's ending

"Sektor had dedicated his life to the Lin Kuei. His victories had brought honor to his father, the Grand Master. He had proven himself worthy. It was time to replace his father. In a bold attack, Sektor smashed through a company of Lin Kuei guards as he pushed toward the Grand Master’s chamber. There he found his father waiting. The Grand Master warned him that wearing the Dragon Medallion brought much power, but at a cost. Sektor ignored the warning and slew his father, whose soul burst from his body and flew into the medallion. Sektor placed the artifact around his neck. He had finally seized control of the Lin Kuei."

#mortal kombat #bi han #sub zero #sektor #frost #mortal kombat spoilers #i think a lot about this #how sektor frost and bi han are tied to each other #but also how interesting bi han did not plan to murder his father to take his place the way sektor did #like yeah he did not aid father in need and is responsible for his death and kuai liang (and smoke) has every right to be angry at bi-han #but it sounds like bi han simply seized an opportunity the same way he seized one offered by shang tsung #while sektor killed his father to take over and he wanted supplant grandmaster even as a human #granted sektor's father in most timelines/version seems to be ruthless bastard #while we don't know much about current sub zero bros' father #nor about frost's reason to kill her mother (before she even joined lin kuei it seems?)#but she always was bitter about family in her intros so i guess there is an untold story there #anyway i find it interesting that bi han is said to be murderer of his father though it doesn't sound as he personally killed him #just did not aid in time of need?#while sektor did for sure slain his father #frost said she killed her mother but we don't have any solid data why either #just a thought that sits in my mind for days about the lin kuei disaster trio #how bi han changed and now seems to be a bit of mix of noob saibot sektor and frost negative traits

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tomorrowxtogether · 8 months

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Tomorrow X Together on 'The Name Chapter: Freefall,' growth and being a 'consolation' to MOA

Tomorrow X Tomorrow are storytellers who have meticulously crafted a through-line from release to release. Since making their debut with the youthful "The Dream Chapter: Star" in 2019, the five-member K-pop act has traversed the process of growing up.

"There's a specific narrative that flows," Taehyun, 21, tells USA TODAY. "It's about the growth of a boy and it's kind of in chronological order."

From the tumultuous transition of "The Chaos Chapter: Freeze" to the introspective conflict of "The Name Chapter: Temptation," Tomorrow X Togetherhas explored the group's coming of age. Their new album "The Name Chapter: Freefall," out now, furthers this narrative.

Meet Tomorrow X Together

Composed of Yeonjun, Soobin, Beomgyu, Taehyun and Hueningkai, Tomorrow X Together has taken the world by storm. Their music crosses genres including rock, R&B and pop.

Their last EP "The Name Chapter: Temptation" debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard 200. In 2022, TXT were the first K-pop group to perform at Lollapalooza. In 2023, they returned to the festival as headliners.

'The Name Chapter: Freefall' finds TXT faced with new challenges of growing up

On the group's new studio album, "we wanted to portray the reality as it is without any frills," says Soobin, 22, the group's leader. "We're all incomplete, but you have the determination to go forward."

In the past, the members delved into the ups and downs of maturing. But now, they're faced with fate. The title track "Chasing That Feeling" finds them holding onto nostalgia yet moving past what they've known.

"The biggest inspiration for me is our experiences, because all the songs (are about) everything we've either been through or will go through in the future," says Yeonjun, 24.

Growing up is something everyone can relate to and letting go is seemingly the hardest part. But TXT relishes the process.

"If you resonate with the music, I think the depth of music that you feel changes," says Hueningkai, 21. This is something the members keep in mind while songwriting, especially when it comes to connecting with their fans, who they lovingly call MOA, which stands for "moments of alwaysness."

"This overarching theme and narrative is what bundles us and MOA together into one," says Hueningkai.

TXT's growth through the years

Since the group's debut, Tomorrow X Together has expertly tackled each concept thrown their way.

"We did all kinds of concepts from the very bubbly concept to the very dark and grungy," says Beomgyu, 22. "Because we've tried so many different concepts, I think we now have a wider spectrum of music that we can pull off."

Each track of "The Name Chapter: Freefall" sets up a different stage within TXT's development.

"When we try out different genres, I think our understanding of music becomes deeper," says Soobin. "I feel like we're growing as artists."

In their years together, the members have fostered appreciation for one another and all they've accomplished.

"The whole process is just very fun and enjoyable for me: trying out different concepts, different styles and witnessing that whole process of change," says Yeonjun.

"There were of course good times and bad times, but we always really communicate well with each other," says Hueningkai. "I don't think there was a moment that was really too challenging or hard for me, thanks to all of them."

TXT has deep love for MOA

The group loves what they do because of their MOA.

"When we see the fans cheering for us, rooting for us, I feel like 'Oh, I'm going on a right path and I'm doing well,' " says Taehyun. "These are the moments that I will cherish."

They hope the group and their fans can grow together.

"I hope that MOA could gather up their courage while listening to our music because sometimes reality could be harsh," says Hueningkai. "I hope that they get the energy from our music which makes them determined to go forward."

"As MOA are to us, I hope that we can be consolation to MOA," says Soobin. "I hope we are a good friend that they can rely on and someone that they can gain energy from."

#txt #tomorrow x together #231014 #article #usa today #soobin #yeonjun #beomgyu #taehyun #hueningkai #freefall #the name chapter: freefall

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foundtherightwords · 3 months

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The Firebird - Chapter 9

Pairing: Prince Paul (Catherine the Great) x OFC, Fairytale AU

Summary: When Paul, a spoiled young prince, spots a strange bird in the forest near his palace, he impulsively chases after it, hoping to both escape from and prove himself to his disapproving mother. Thus he is plunged into an exhilarating adventure across a magical realm populated by enchanted princesses, dangerous monsters, and powerful wizards, an adventure that may change him more than he can ever imagine.

Chapter warning: some violence

Chapter word count: 4.5k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Chapter 9 - Knights and Nightingale

As soon as Paul, Zhara, and Elena cleared the trees, all three of them collapsed, breathing in the sweet night air of the meadow and the open sky. Even the donkey seemed to be calming down and started grazing the fresh grass with relish.

"Thank you," Elena exhaled. "Thank you both. I never would have the courage to stand up to her if it wasn't for you."

Paul paid her no heed. His attention was on Zhara, who was cradling her injured hand and looking pale. He found a piece of clean linen in their supplies, dipped it in the nearby stream, and started washing the blood off her hands.

"You are going to say that was a very stupid thing to do, aren't you?" she asked with a sullen grimace.

"No," Paul said honestly. More than anything, he longed to kiss her palm, but he couldn't, not with Elena there, so he settled for caressing her hand instead. "You were very brave."

Zhara's fingers went still for a heartbeat, then closed around his. "I think you were very brave too," she said softly.

For a moment, they sat holding hands, unable to tear their eyes away from each other, until a small cough from Elena made them dart away like two criminals. Paul turned around and found Elena standing awkwardly next to them, holding a bunch of frothy pink and white flowers she just picked from the meadow.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Woundwort," she replied, crushing the flowers between her fingers. Perhaps it was Paul's imagination, but he thought the flowers glowed briefly. "Put it on her hand, it'll heal faster."

Paul took the crushed flowers from Elena and carefully placed them on Zhara's wound before binding her hand with another strip of linen. If he took a long time doing it, and if his fingertips lingered over her palm and her wrist more than necessary, she showed no sign of noticing.

"Sleeping on a field on Kupala Night, how fitting," Elena mused, looking around the empty meadow. She glanced at Zhara. "Perhaps we should have waited until morning to defy my mother."

"Oh, if you don't mind, then I don't either. We've been sleeping under the stars for weeks now, haven't we?" Zhara said, nodding at Paul with a warm smile that bore no trace of her usual mockery. For some reason, the natural, easy way she said we sent a thrill through Paul. "Besides, I don't want to be around a lot of people in the morning."

"Why not?" Elena asked, bemused.

"You'll see" was all Zhara said in reply.

***

Elena took Zhara's transformation surprisingly well. Paul had the feeling that she had been confined in her own kingdom for so long that anything would come as a shock to her, and when everything was a shock, nothing was, so she took everything in her stride. He discovered that she was something of a chatterbox as well. She asked him about Russia, about his journey with Zhara so far, and about Alyosha and Afron. Paul tried to answer her as best he could, but he was unable to keep up with her pattering. Luckily, Elena was so thrilled to have someone to talk to that she didn't seem to mind, like a child who had recently learned to talk. When she had exhausted her store of questions, she started pointing out every plant and tree they saw along the way and listing their properties and uses. Paul didn't hold it against her. He supposed that when one was one quarter-leshy, a love for botany was in one's blood. After a while, he learned to tune out her excited babbling and focused on putting one foot ahead of another—the donkey could not carry both of them, so he gave it to Elena and walked instead.

Zhara's wound had healed almost completely, but she didn't fly ahead as she often did when she and Paul were traveling together. Instead, she stayed close or perched on Paul's shoulder, watching him and Elena with an enigmatic, scrutinizing expression. Paul wanted to tell her that she needn't worry about him falling in love with Elena. Although he didn't mind Elena's company, he missed those early days when it was just him and Zhara, missed falling asleep across the fire from her, even missed their bickering. But he couldn't say any of it in Elena's presence, so he only brushed his fingertips briefly over Zhara's wings. She returned the gesture by nibbling his hand gently with her beak. She ceased her watching after that, though she remained on his shoulder.

After reaching the first mountain pass that night, they discussed what to do should they run into Nightingale again. Zhara pointed out that the robber didn't seem at all interested in humans and only took the donkey and the supplies, so if they freed the donkey and crossed the mountains on foot, perhaps he would leave them be.

"What if there is another avalanche?" Paul asked. "We only escaped by sheer luck last time." He could still feel the stab of fear that had gone through his heart when Zhara went missing, and never wished to feel it again.

"We can make some snow wings," Elena piped up. Zhara and Paul turned to her questioningly, and she explained, "That's what the people of Bryansk do when they have to go up the mountains. They weave these frames out of birch and willow branches and strap them to their backs. They will save us from getting buried completely in the snow."

So they spent the night gathering branches from the lower slopes and tying them together with birch bark into something resembling a long and flat hamper. They made two, one for Elena and one for Paul, while Zhara, who would be in her avian form, simply had to stay airborne.

"Will this work?" Paul asked dubiously, as he tried one on.

"I—I've never used it before," Elena said. "But it should work." Her answer didn't instill a lot of confidence in Paul, but they had to take it.

They started their ascent of Perun's Crown early in the morning. The first two days were quiet, and they began to hope that perhaps Nightingale would not attack. Still, they were particularly careful as they neared Perun's Peak, as this was the site of the avalanche and where Nightingale was rumored to have his nest. Zhara flew overhead on slowly wheeling wings, ready to sound the alarm should she see anything suspicious, while Paul and Elena walked on the slippery path, with the donkey between them.

An echoing shriek made them all jump. Zhara soared up so high she was only a speck of red amongst the gray-and-white peaks, while Paul and Elena pressed themselves against the rock walls on either side of the path, preparing for the avalanche. It never came. They heard another shriek from somewhere up ahead, along with other sounds—the rushing rustle of a tempest, male voices shouting, and the panicked whinnies of some horses.

Paul and Elena exchanged curious glances. Could it be that some hapless travelers had been caught by Nightingale? They ran toward a bend in the path, where they cleared the Peak and the rock walls opened up into a vista of the lower mountains and the valley further down.

But that wasn't all they could see. Perched on a tree on the mountaintop directly underneath them was Nightingale the Robber, his back to them, his speckled gray plumage barely visible amongst the leaves and the rocks. From his mouth, a continuous shriek was coming forth, causing such a high, gusty wind that all the trees on the slope below were bent over, some smaller ones were snapped clean in half, and stones and branches and debris were tumbling down the hill. It was so powerful that Paul and Elena, crouched on the higher peak, could even feel some of it on their faces as it rebounded off of the mountains in the distance. The victims—two men in armor and their horses—were hiding behind a large boulder, which shielded them from the worst of the squall but didn't allow them to do much else. One of them kept trying to draw a bow, only to have to duck down again when half a sapling sailed past his head. The other one had a spear, which he drove into the ground and leaned against to keep himself from getting blown away by the gust.

"What do we do?" Elena asked.

"He's not paying attention to us at all. We can simply wait until he finishes with them and flies away," Paul said. Zhara, who had come down to watch and was now hovering over his shoulder, gave a dissenting chirrup and shook her beak. Paul sighed. "All right, so we shall try to help them," he said. "But how?"

"He's sitting on a cedar," Elena said. "It's a very brittle wood. Perhaps we can throw a rock to break the branch and make him fall—" Paul and Zhara, as one, turned to her with incredulous eyes, and she turned pink and put her head down. "I apologize. It's a silly idea."

Paul reminded himself that he hadn't been much better than Elena was when he first arrived in Lukomorye. No, worse even, for he had been too busy raging and throwing tantrums instead of trying to be helpful. So he shouldn't find her naïveté frustrating. Besides, perhaps her idea wasn't altogether silly...

He cast his eyes upward, contemplating the snow-covered slopes above them, tracing their incline to the tree where Nightingale was sitting. He turned back to watch the archer trying in vain to loose an arrow at Nightingale, only to be driven back by the mighty whistle. A thought formed in his mind.

"An avalanche," he said. He turned to Zhara and pointed to the slopes. "Zhara, can you fly up there and knock down the snow with your fire? Not too much, just enough to distract Nightingale."

Zhara's eyes lit up with understanding, and she took off like a streak of gold toward the snowy slopes. A moment later, a small flame flared red against the white, and a square of snow detached itself from the slope and started its ponderous but relentless descent.

"Go!" Paul urged Elena. They took off down the mountains with the donkey, while Zhara swooped in close behind. Below, the two men had noticed the snow and were pointing at it, shouting. Paul only hoped that they realized the opportunity and were quick enough to seize it.

The shouts caught Nightingale's attention. He turned his head for no longer than the blink of an eye, saw the snow coming down, and launched himself up like a shot fired from a musket. But that brief pause was all that the archer needed. At the moment Nightingale soared into the sky, an arrow also flew from the bow, whistled through the air, and found its mark in the robber's shoulder. With a terrible scream, Nightingale tumbled from the sky, landed hard on the rocks, and kept rolling until he ended up at the bottom of the gorge, where he lay motionless.

By the time Paul and his companions reached the base of the slope, snow from the avalanche had piled up around the boulder. Nightingale was still conscious but at the mercy of the two men, who already had him bound and gagged. The archer, a powerfully built man with black hair and a curly black beard, had an arrow nocked and pointed at the robber, while the other man, younger and slimmer, with auburn hair and light blue-green eyes, was putting the tip of his spear to the robber's neck. Both men had about them a noble, heroic air, just like Alyosha Popovich, and Paul suddenly felt quite conscious of his disheveled curls and rumpled appearance.

"Who are you?" the archer asked, raising his bow at them.

Paul threw his arms up. "Please, don't shoot. We only wish to help."

The other man's blue-green eyes widened as they landed on Elena. "Elena the Fair!" he exclaimed. "How is it that you are here, so far away from Bryansk?"

Elena looked rather taken aback. "You have the advantage of me, sir," she said.

"Apologies, my lady." The knight—for Paul was certain these two men could be nothing else but bogatyrs—took off his helmet and bowed deeply. "Dobrynya Nikitich, at your service. You may not know me, but I have seen and admired you from afar during my travels through your kingdom. It is an honor to finally make your acquaintance."

Elena's porcelain face turned a lovely shade of pink, while Paul wondered how Dobrynya managed to make such a simple introduction sound so gallant and romantic.

"And I am Ilya Muromets," his companion said. Paul was reminded of Zhara's question to Alyosha about his brothers. So these must be them.

Zhara alighted on Paul's shoulder. The two knights stared at her in astonishment.

"Can this be—?" Ilya said, his voice hushed.

"Tsarevna Zhara?" Dobrynya asked.

Zhara inclined her head. Even as a bird, she retained her regal air, and the two knights fell to their knees in front of her—that is to say, in front of Paul. Then they began to speak, voices stumbling over each other.

"We've heard the rumor, my lady, but didn't quite believe it—"

"—ever since we learned of what happened in Arthania and what had befallen poor Alyosha, we have been searching for you—"

"—to pledge our swords and shields to you—"

Seeing they were distracted, Nightingale tried to sit up, but Ilya, with a quick movement that belied his heavy physique, put a foot on the robber's chest and pushed him back down. "Don't even think about it, Nightingale."

"That reminds me," Dobrynya said, watching Nightingale writhe in pain and anger, "what are we going to do about this one?"

"I say we kill him," Ilya said.

The robber's face went white.

"Or we can deliver him to Tsar Afron," Dobrynya suggested. "The tsar will be glad to know that the mountains are safe once more."

"Killing him would accomplish the same thing, and we don't have to waste time and strength carrying him across—" Ilya was saying, when he was interrupted by the shrill voice of a woman.

"No!" the voice cried out. "Please, merciful knights! Please spare my husband!"

They all looked up, startled. Through a crevice in the mountain above, they could glimpse the face of a woman looking out. The crevice was so well disguised on the rock wall that if it hadn't been for the woman's red headscarf, they would never have seen it at all. Several other heads joined the woman's—children, by the size of them, crowding around her like chicks surrounding a mother hen. The sight of those children caused Nightingale to thrash against his bonds even more violently, his face turning purple with rage or exertion.

The woman pulled at a windlass, cleverly hidden amongst the rocks, and brought up a basket. This she used to transport herself and several of the smaller children down to the bottom of the slope, while the three older children, two girls and a boy, flew behind them on fledglings' wings. The woman was human. The children had her rounded eyes and plump cheeks and Nightingale's bird wings and bird legs, though the younger ones were yet to molt. There were nine of them, six girls and three boys.

The woman prostrated herself in front of Ilya, shielding Nightingale with her body. "Please, have mercy!" she said, tears streaming down her face. "He doesn't mean any harm! He's only trying to take care of us!"

Paul, the knights, and the princesses shared shocked glances.

"What's your name, woman?" Ilya asked.

"Akulina Dudenchevna, sir," the woman replied. "In the time of the late Tsar Dolmat, Tsar Afron's father, my husband would ferry people across the mountains and get paid for it. When Tsar Afron took the throne a few years ago, he refused to honor the late tsar's agreement with my husband. He put it about that my husband was a monster, and nobody would let him carry them through the mountains again. That is why my husband was forced to turn to robbery to provide for us. But as Perun is my witness, he has never killed anyone!"

"Well, this certainly puts a different complexion on matters," Ilya said, scratching his beard. "If what you said is true."

"It is, all of it!" Akulina got on her knees and wrung her hands. "Please believe me! If you kill him or take him away, I don't know how I can feed my children..."

"What say you?" Ilya asked, turning to Elena, Zhara, and Paul. "Should we give him a chance?"

Paul was rather taken aback. In his mother's court, his voice was never heard, and his thoughts counted for nothing, yet this knight, whom he had met only mere minutes ago, was asking for his judgment on a man's life. He was ashamed to realize he didn't know what to say. Not used to having his opinion asked, he had not learned to form one of his own.

"I think we should let him live," Elena said. "Do you think so, Dobrynya Nikitich?"

"Of course, my lady," Dobrynya eagerly agreed.

"And Lady Zhara?" Ilya asked.

Paul realized Zhara was no longer on his shoulder, but before he could worry, a peal of laughter and cooing sounds made him turn his head. Zhara had found her way over to Nightingale's little children, and was playing with them, preening the feathers of the younger ones and swooping and flitting between the older ones, challenging them to a race, making them shriek with laughter. The scene put a smile on Paul's face. Trust Zhara to always find a cheerful side to everything, no matter how dire the situation.

"I think she's in favor of sparing his life as well," Dobrynya said, also smiling.

"So be it then," Ilya said and removed his foot from Nightingale's chest.

"Oh thank you!" Akulina exclaimed. "Thank you and bless you, good sirs and ladies!" She went around kissing all their hands, even Paul's, making him squirm with embarrassment.

Ilya untied Nightingale and removed his gag, warning him not to try anything. "And if we hear you're back to your old tricks, I shall put an arrow into your other shoulder." The robber glowered at the two knights, but his face softened when he was reunited with his family.

Ilya and Dobrynya fetched their horses and prepared to leave.

"But how are they going to live?" Paul heard himself asking as he watched Nightingale's children reluctantly part with Zhara.

The two knights looked at each other. It was apparent that the question hadn't occurred to them. It was Elena who provided the answer. "I shall talk to Tsar Afron and convince him to honor his father's agreement with you," she told Nightingale. "And perhaps I can convince my—my mother to agree to something similar as well. That way, you can ferry people from both Smorodina and Bryansk across the mountains, and earn an honest living."

Akulina looked like she was about to cry again. With his uninjured hand, Nightingale plucked a feather from his wing and gave it to Elena. "Thank you, my lady," he said in a gravelly voice. "Should you ever need my help, just burn this feather and I shall be there."

And so they went down the mountains, Elena now riding with Dobrynya on his horse. Paul was back on the donkey, feeling more inferior than ever as he trailed after the two stallions, but Zhara was on his shoulder again, and her presence was a great balm to his bruised ego.

Along the way, Ilya and Dobrynya asked Paul the details of Alyosha Popovich's fate, and they both looked so distraught over it that Paul had to promise to take them back to the oak tree where Alyosha was laid to rest so they could pay their respect—though he doubted he could find it again. He also explained about their search for Baba Yaga and Afron's quest. At the mention of Afron's marriage request, Dobrynya threw a dismayed glance at Elena, but said nothing.

They stopped at dusk to let Zhara transform. They were not far now from the foot of the mountains and decided to push on.

"Lady Zhara, would you do me the honor of riding with me?" Ilya asked.

"Thank you, but I think I prefer to stay with Pavel Petrovich—" Zhara replied, glancing at Paul.

Paul imagined sitting on the donkey with his arms around her, her hair brushing his cheeks, her back against his chest. It would be unbearable. "The donkey cannot carry both of us," he said, ignoring the hurt and questioning look in Zhara's eyes. "You go ahead with Ilya Muromets."

Silently, Zhara allowed Ilya to help her onto the saddle. She sat behind the knight, holding to his thick waist, and resolutely refused to look at Paul.

They crossed the last few versts to Simeon's hut. The old man was greatly surprised to see Paul and Zhara not only return unscathed but also with some friends, and received them with his usual hospitality. That night, after Simeon retreated to his stove, the princesses made do with the narrow cot, and the knights bedded down outside to keep watch on their mounts. Paul tried to make himself a bed in front of the fire, but sleep eluded him. His head was crowded with so many unaccustomed thoughts and feelings, about Zhara, about Elena, about Nightingale, about the two knights, about the journey ahead. After tossing and turning about for what felt like hours, he gave up and went to sit just outside the door, wrapped in a quilt.

Hearing a rustling, he turned and saw Zhara's bare feet, sticking out from under her chemise, standing next to him.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"Why aren't you asleep?" she retorted.

Without waiting for an answer, she sat down, snatched one end of the quilt from his hand, and wrapped it around her own shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Paul asked, alarmed. The quilt now covered both of them, and they were snuggled up underneath it.

"I'm cold," she said with a little smile, wriggling her bare toes as if to demonstrate. Paul fought the urge to lift her feet into his lap and rub those toes, although warmth was radiating from her body, making him acutely aware that there were only two thin layers of linen between them. "Is something bothering you?" she asked.

Yes, he wanted to say. You. I want to kiss you so badly but I can't, not with all these people around, not when I don't know if you would welcome a kiss from me. Such thoughts had never deterred him before, but he had a feeling Zhara would not take kindly to such liberties. "No," he said, clearing his throat. "I was—merely thinking."

"About what?"

He looked up at the sky, trying to make sense of the thoughts that cluttered his mind. It was impossible, like trying to unravel a ball of yarn that had been pawed by some energetic kittens, made doubly so by the presence of this enchanting, infuriating girl by his side. His eyes rested on the waning moon, spreading its light on the ground in a dappled silvery carpet, and what he said instead was, "I wonder if the moon here looks different from the moon in Russia."

"Does it?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "Back home, I never bothered to look up."

"But you do now, don't you?" Zhara said, voice soft as a breeze. He turned to her. She was looking at him, her lips parted, hanging on to his every word. That eager, expectant look made his heart beat with a half-sweet, half-painful hope, and he had to turn away again.

"Do you think Afron will agree to the arrangement with Nightingale?" he said, changing the subject.

Zhara pressed her lips together. "If he truly loves Elena as he said, perhaps she can persuade him," she replied.

"I think he will be less amenable when he learns she doesn't want to marry him."

"How do you know that she doesn't want to marry him?" she asked sharply.

Paul looked toward the sleeping forms of the two knights. "I think she's fallen in love with Dobrynya Nikitich. And he with her." Throughout that afternoon, he had seen them share stolen glances, blushes, little touches. It could mean nothing else.

"Oh," Zhara said, voice softening. "That's what you meant."

"What did you think I meant then?" Paul turned to her, puzzled. Now it was she who looked away, lashes fluttering as she cast her eyes downward. Paul decided not to push it. "You must be glad for their company," he said, nodding at the knights.

"I am. But I rather miss those days when it was just the two of us."

So she felt the same. The thought sent blood pounding through his veins and hammering in his ears, and he didn't quite know how to respond. "Hopefully, they can make up for all the troubles I've caused," he said.

Zhara huffed, exasperated. "Are you still mad at me for calling you a burden?" she asked. "I did apologize, didn't I?"

"I'm not mad at you. I'm simply saying—"

"You are like Nightingale. People tell you that you're a monster long enough, and you end up believing it and acting like one!"

"So I am a monster now?"

"No! You know perfectly well that's not what I meant. And stop saying that you are burdensome, good-for-nothing, or useless, because you're not."

"What am I then?" Paul faced her, not caring how heated his voice was becoming.

"A fool," Zhara said, and she kissed him.

For an endless moment, Paul could only sit there, feeling her soft, soft lips on his, their impossible warmth scorching him like the brand of a glowing ember. Then he opened his mouth, perhaps to say something or perhaps simply to breathe, which he seemed to have forgotten how to do. As if on cue, Zhara leaned closer, pressing her lithe, compliant body flush against his, and deepened the kiss, sending liquid fire coursing through him. Before he could recover enough to kiss her back, however, she broke away, her eyes twinkling gold in the silvery light of the moon as she studied his face. He must be looking even more foolish than usual, for she gave him her familiar teasing smile, though there was a trace of bashfulness in it as well.

"Good night," she said, brushing her lips over his once more. Paul leaned forward expectantly, but she had gotten to her feet and gone back inside, leaving him at the door with his mouth hanging open, too stunned to move.

Chapter 10

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denimbex1986 · 6 days

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'Andrew Scott’s success did not arrive overnight. His has been a slow and steady ascent from supporting player to leading man. But his status is now assured: at 47, the Irishman is among the most talented and prominent actors of his generation, on stage and screen.

Dublin-born and raised, Scott first took drama classes at the suggestion of his mother, an art teacher, to try to overcome a childhood lisp. At 17 he won his first part in a film, Korea (1995), about an Irish boy who finds himself fighting in the Korean War. By 21, he was winning awards for his performance in Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey into Night, for director Karel Reisz, no less, at The Gate. He arrived in London, where he continues to live, at the end of the 1990s, and worked regularly, with smaller parts in bigger TV shows (Band of Brothers, Longitude) and bigger parts in smaller plays (A Girl in a Car With a Man, Dying City). By the mid-2000s he was well established, especially in the theatre. In 2006, on Broadway, he was Julianne Moore’s lover, and Bill Nighy’s son, in David Hare’s Iraq War drama, The Vertical Hour, directed by Sam Mendes. In 2009, he was Ben Whishaw’s betrayed boyfriend in Mike Bartlett’s Cock, at the Royal Court. He won excellent notices for these and other performances, but he was not yet a star. If you knew, you knew. If you didn’t know, you didn’t know. Most of us didn’t know; not yet.

That changed in 2010 when, at the age of 33, he played Jim Moriarty, arch nemesis of Benedict Cumberbatch’s egocentric detective, in the BBC’s smash hit Sherlock. The appearance many remember best is his incendiary debut, in an episode called “The Great Game”. When first we meet him, Moriarty is disguised as a creepy IT geek, a human flinch with an ingratiating smile. It’s an act so convincing that even Sherlock doesn’t catch on. Next time we see him, he’s a dapper psychotic in a Westwood suit, with an uncannily pitched singsong delivery and an air of casual menace that flips, suddenly, into rage so consuming he’s close to tears. Such was the relish with which Scott played the villain — he won a Bafta for it — that he risked the black hat becoming stuck to his head. In Spectre (2015), the fourth of Daniel Craig’s Bond movies, and the second directed by Sam Mendes, Scott played Max Denbigh, or C, a smug Whitehall mandarin who wants to merge MI5 and MI6, sacrilegiously replacing the 00 agents with drones. (If only.)

There were other decent roles in movies and TV series, as well as substantial achievements on stage, and he might have carried on in this way for who knows how long, even for his whole career, as a fêted stage performer who never quite breaks through as a leading man on screen.

But Scott had more to offer than flashy baddies and scene-stealing cameos. His Hamlet, at The Almeida in London, in 2017, was rapturously received. I’ve seen it only on YouTube, but even watching on that degraded format, you can appreciate the fuss. Scott is magnetic: funny, compelling, and so adept with the language that, while you never forget he’s speaking some of the most profound and beautiful verse ever written, it feels as conversational as pub chat.

Another banner year was 2019: a memorable cameo in 1917 (Mendes again) as a laconic English lieutenant; an Emmy nomination for his performance in an episode of Black Mirror; and the matinée idol in Noel Coward’s Present Laughter at London’s Old Vic, for which he won the Olivier for Best Actor, the most prestigious award in British theatre.

The second series of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s phenomenal Fleabag, also in 2019, proved to a wider public what theatregoers already knew: Scott could play the mainstream romantic lead, and then some. His character was unnamed. The credits read, simply, “The Priest”. But social media and the newspapers interpolated an adjective and Scott became The Hot Priest, Fleabag’s unlucky-in-love interest, a heavy-drinking heartbreaker in a winningly spiffy cassock, and an internet sensation.

Fleabag began as a spiky dramedy about a traumatised young woman. Scott’s storyline saw it develop into a bittersweet rom-com, brimming with compassion for its two clever, funny, horny, lonely, awkward, baggage-carrying heroes, lovers who can’t get together because, for all the snogging in the confessional, one of them is already taken, in this case by God.

It was the best and brightest British comedy of the 2010s, and Scott’s fizzing chemistry with Waller-Bridge had much to do with that. The ending, when she confesses her feelings at a bus stop, is already a classic. “I love you,” she tells him. “It’ll pass,” he says.

Over the past 12 months, in particular, Scott has piled triumph on top of victory, and his star has risen still further. At the National, last year, he executed a coup de théâtre in Vanya, for which he was again nominated for an Olivier. (He lost out to an old Sherlock sparring partner, Mark Gatiss, for his superb turn in The Motive and the Cue, about the making of an earlier Hamlet.) For Simon Stephens’s reworking of Chekhov’s play, Scott was the only actor on stage. On a sparsely furnished set, in modern dress — actually his own clothes: a turquoise short sleeve shirt, pleated chinos, Reebok Classics and a thin gold chain — and with only very slight modulations of his voice and movements, he successfully embodied eight separate people including an ageing professor and his glamorous young wife; an alcoholic doctor and the woman who loves him; and Vanya himself, the hangdog estate manager. He argued with himself, flirted with himself and even, in one indelible moment, had it off with himself.

It’s the kind of thing that could have been indulgent showboating, a drama-school exercise taken too far, more fun for the performer than the audience. But Scott carried it off with brio. In the simplest terms, he can play two people wrestling over a bottle of vodka in the middle of the night — and make you forget that there’s only one of him, and he’s an Irish actor, not a provincial Russian(s). An astonishing feat.

For his next trick: All of Us Strangers, among the very best films released in 2023. Writer-director Andrew Haigh’s ghost story is about Adam (Scott), a lonely writer, isolated in a Ballardian west-London high-rise, who returns to his suburban childhood home to find that his parents — killed in a car crash when he was 11 — are still living there, apparently unaltered since 1987. Meanwhile, Adam begins a tentative romance with a neighbour, Henry (Paul Mescal), a younger man, also lonely, also vulnerable, also cut off from family and friends.

Tender, lyrical, sentimental, sad, strange, and ultimately quite devastating, All of Us Strangers was another potential artistic banana skin. At one point, Scott’s character climbs into bed with his parents and lies between them, as a child might, seeking comfort. In less accomplished hands, this sort of thing could have been exasperating and embarrassing. But Scott’s performance grounds the film. He is exceptionally moving in it. He was nominated for a Golden Globe for Best Actor, losing to his fellow Irishman, Cillian Murphy, for Oppenheimer. Earlier this year, he made history as the first person to receive Critics Circle awards in the same year for Best Actor in a film (All of Us Strangers) and a play (Vanya).

Finally, last month, the title role in Ripley, a new spin on the lurid Patricia Highsmith novels. That show, which unspools over eight episodes on Netflix, was a long time coming. Announced in 2019, it was filmed during the pandemic, at locations across Italy and in New York. Scott is in almost every scene and delivers an immensely subtle and nuanced portrayal of Highsmith’s identity thief, a character previously played by actors including Alain Delon, Dennis Hopper, and Matt Damon in the famous Anthony Minghella film The Talented Mr Ripley, from 1999.

The fragile almost-charm that makes Tom Ripley such an enduring antihero is there in Scott’s portrayal, but so is the creepiness, the isolation, the fear and desperation. His Ripley can turn on a smile, but it quickly curdles. Filmed in high-contrast black and white, Ripley is a sombre, chilly work by design, but doggedly compelling, and not without a mordant wit. Again, critics swooned.

So the actor is on a hot streak. Later this year he’ll appear in Back in Action, a Hollywood spy caper, alongside Cameron Diaz and Jamie Foxx, above-the-title stars with dazzling, wide-screen smiles. But could they play Chekhov single-handed? They’ll need to be on their toes.

Before our shoot and subsequent interview, in April, I had met Scott briefly on two previous occasions, both times at fancy dinners for fashion brands. Compact, stylish, dynamic, he is impishly witty and charismatic: good in a room. Also, obliging: the second time I met him, he took my phone and spoke into it in his most diabolical Moriarty voice for a wickedly funny voice message to my son, a Sherlock fan.

At the Esquire shoot, on an overcast day in south London, Scott again demonstrated his good sportiness: dancing in the drizzle in a Gucci suit; generously sharing his moment in the spotlight with an unexpected co-star, a local cat who sauntered on to the set and decided to stick around for the close-ups; and entertaining the crew — and hangers-on, including me — with rude jokes. At one point, while for some reason discussing the contents of our respective fridges, I asked him where he kept his tomatoes. “Easy, Tiger,” he said.

At lunch the following day, upstairs at Quo Vadis, the restaurant and members’ club in Soho (my suggestion), the actor arrived promptly, settled himself on a banquette, and we got straight to business. It’s standard practice now for interviews published in the Q&A format to include a disclaimer, in the American style: “This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.” (Well, duh.) In this case, we talked for close to three hours. Inevitably, paper costs being what they are, and Esquire readers having busy lives, some of that verbiage has ended up on the cutting-room floor. But not much! I’ve tried to let it flow as much as possible, and to keep the spirit of the thing, in which we toggled, like all good performances, between light and dark, comedy and tragedy.

In early March, a month before this interview took place, Scott and his family suffered a terrible and unexpected loss: his mother, Nora, suddenly died. He went home to Dublin to be with his dad, Jim, his sisters, Sarah and Hannah, and their family and friends.

As an interviewee and, I suspect, as a person, Scott is thoughtful, convivial and solicitous: he doesn’t just answer questions, he also asks them. He is not above the occasional forearm squeeze when he wants to emphasise a point. He seems to possess a sharp emotional intelligence. Perhaps one should expect empathy in a great actor, but in him it seems particularly marked.

Before we began talking, there was some studying of the menu. Scott wondered, since I eat often at Quo Vadis, if I had any recommendations. I told him I had my eye on the pie: chicken, ham and leek. “Why would you not have the pie?” wondered Scott. A good question.

So, how was your morning? Where have you come from?

This morning I’ve been at the gym, Alex.

Are you working out for a specific reason or are you just a healthy man?

Just trying to keep it going. Exercise is so helpful to me. I don’t know if you know, but my mum died four weeks ago.

I did know, and I’m so sorry.

Thank you. So, yeah. Just trying to keep it going. They say your body feels it as much as your mind.

The grief?

Yeah, the grief. My friend said a brilliant thing last night. She’s been through grief. She said, if you think of it like weights, the weight of it doesn’t decrease, but your ability to lift the weights does. So, if you go to the gym and you’re completely unpractised you won’t be able to lift the weight. But the more you get used to it, the more you can lift. There’s a slight analogy to grief. I’m just learning about it.

Have you been through grief before?

Not really. A little bit, but not to this extent. And it’s a strange thing because, obviously, I’m in the middle of having to talk a lot [promoting Ripley] and making that decision of whether to talk about it or whether not to talk about it. I’m finding myself talking about it, because it’s what’s going on, and without giving away too much of it she was such an important figure. It feels right. It’s such a natural thing.

Is it helpful to talk about it?

I think it has to be. I feel very lucky with my job, in the sense that, all those more complex, difficult feelings, that’s what you have to do in a rehearsal room; you have to explore these things. So strange: a lot of the recent work that I’ve done has been exploring grief. With Vanya, and All of Us Strangers. So it’s odd to be experiencing it this time for real.

I wasn’t planning on making that the focal point of this piece, so it’s up to you how much you feel comfortable talking about it.

I appreciate that.

Was it unexpected? Did it happen out of the blue?

Yes. She was very alive four weeks ago. She just deteriorated very quickly. She got pneumonia and she just… it was all over within 24 hours.

What sort of person was she?

She was the most enormously fun person that you could possibly imagine. Insanely fun and very, very creative. She’s the person who sort of introduced me to acting and art. She taught me to draw and paint when I was really young —that’s another big passion of mine, drawing and painting. She was amazing with all of us. My sister Sarah is very talented in sport, she’s now a sports coach. And my sister Hannah was very artistic and she’s an actor now. So, she was really good at supporting us throughout all our different interests. What I say is that we’ve been left a huge fortune by her. Not financially, but an emotional fortune, if you know what I mean? I feel that really strongly. And once this horrible shock is over, I just have to figure out how I’m going to spend it. Because I think when someone else is alive and they’ve got amazing attributes, they look after those attributes. And then when they die, particularly if they are your parent, you feel like you want to inhabit them, these incredible enthusiasts for life. She just made connections with people very easily. I feel enormously grateful to have had her. Have you had much grief in your life?

My mother died, during Covid. She had been ill for a long time, so it was a very different experience to yours. But I think they are all different experiences, for each of us. I don’t know if that loss would be in any way analogous to yours. But like you, I love art and books and music, and that’s all from her. Last night, I watched a rom-com with my daughter, who is 14. And I don’t know if I would like rom-coms so much, if it wasn’t for my mum.

Love a rom-com! What did you watch?

Annie Hall.

Did she like it, your daughter?

She absolutely loved it. She was properly laughing.

Oh, that’s great!

And she’s a tough one to impress. But she loved it, and my mum loved Woody Allen. My mum can’t recommend Woody Allen to my daughter now, but I can, and that’s come down from her. So it goes on.

That’s what I mean. Your spirit doesn’t die. And I’m sure you went to bed going, “Yes!”

I did! It was a lovely evening, it really was. Tonight we’ll watch something else.

Are you going to watch another Woody Allen? Which one are you going to watch?

I thought maybe we’d watch Manhattan? More Diane Keaton.

Or Hannah and Her Sisters? That’s a good one. Insanely good. Yeah, it’s amazing that legacy, what you’re left with. My mum was so good at connecting with people. She was not very good at small talk. She was quite socially bold. She would say things to people. If she thought you looked well, she’d tell you. She’d always come home with some story about some pot thrower she met at some sort of craft fair. Being socially bold, there’s a sort of kindness in it. When someone says something surprising, it’s completely delightful. My mother sent me something when I was going through a bad time in my twenties. It was just a little card. It said, “The greatest failure is not to delight.” What a beautiful quote. And she was just delighted by so many things, and she was also delightful. And like her, I really love people. I really get a kick out of people.

I can tell.

But there’s a kind of thing, if you become recognisable, people become the enemy? And it’s something I have to try and weigh up a little bit. Because people are my favourite thing about the world. I think it’s part of my nature. My dad is pretty sociable too. And so it’s weighing that up, how you keep that going. Because certain parts of that are out of your control: people treat you slightly differently. But this phase, the past four weeks, it still feels so new. Just thinking about legacy and kindness and love and the finite-ness of life. All that stuff.

Big stuff.

Yeah, it’s big stuff. And it’s very interesting, talking about grief. Because it’s not all just low-energy sadness. There’s something galvanising about it as well. I don’t know if you found that, too?

One of the things about someone else dying is it makes you feel alive.

Yes, exactly. Even though we have no choice, it does that. It’s that amazing thing, the year of magical thinking.

[Waiter approaches. Are we ready to order?]

We are.

I think so. Are we two pie guys?

We’re two pie guys!

We’re pretty fly for pie guys.

Are we salad guys? Tomato, fennel and cucumber salad?

Yeah.

And chips, maybe?

Listen, you only live once.

So, the year of magical thinking…

You know, when you’re walking along, are you allowed to have a surge of joy? Or are you allowed to just stay home and… It’s extraordinary when it gets you.

Like a wave of emotion?

I had one on the rowing machine today. I’m glad of it, though.

That was sadness.

Just loss, yeah. Just loss.

So, there’s two ways to do this. You can choose. We can do the usual interview where we start at the beginning with your childhood and go all the way through to now. That’s totally fine. Or, I can throw more random questions at you, and see where that takes us?

Random!

Shall we random it?

Let’s random it.

OK. That means I might sometimes read questions off this piece of paper.

Reading takes just slightly away from the randomness of it, Alex…

That is a very good point. You are quite right. But I don’t read them out in order! They’re just prompts.

[Sardonically] Oh, I see!

Talk me through what you’re wearing.

Oh, this is so old. What does it say?

[I peer at the label on the inside of his shirt collar. It says Hartford.]

What colour would you call that?

I’d call it a bit of a duck egg, Alex, would you?

I’d go with that. And it’s like a…

Like a Henley?

And these [pointing to trousers]?

Mr P trousers. And a pair of old Nikes.

And sports socks.

When I am off duty, I think I dress slightly like an 11-year-old. You know, when you’re just plodding the streets, I wear, like, a hoodie and trainers.

And you have a chain round your neck.

This is a chain that I bought in New York. No, maybe I bought it in Italy. It was a replacement chain. I’ve worn a chain for years. Sometimes I like to have it as a reminder that I’m not working. When you’re in character, you take it off. Because when you’re in a show or a play, they sort of own you. They own your hair.

They own your hair!

Or sometimes you have to walk around with, like, a stupid moustache. Or, worse, chops. Actors fucking hate that. Like, nobody suits that, I don’t think. Right? I’m trying to think of someone who suits that.

Daniel Day Lewis, maybe? He can carry it off.

He’s got the chops for chops!

What’s something about you that you think is typically Irish?

It goes back to that people thing. When I go home to Ireland, I’m aware that people talk to each other a lot more. And I think there’s a sense of humour that Irish people have that I love. And I suppose a softness, too, that I love. Those are the positive things. And then the guilt and the shame is the negative stuff.

Catholic guilt?

Catholic guilt. I feel very strongly, though, that I’ve worked to emancipate myself from it. There’s a certain unthinking-ness to guilt. Your first thought, always: “What have I done wrong? It’s gotta be me.” That doesn’t benefit anyone. And with shame, I don’t feel shame anymore. I think I probably did before. But in a way, it’s an irrelevant thing for me to talk about now. The thing I prefer to talk about is how great it is not to have that anymore. Rather than how horrible it was. The thing I feel enthusiastic about is how there are so many beautiful and different ways to live a life that aren’t centred on the very strict, Catholic, cultural idea of what a good life might be. Namely, 2.4 children and certain ideas and a very specific life.

Are there positives to be taken away from a Catholic education?

The rituals around grief, I think, are really beautiful, having gone through what I’ve just been going through. And the community that you get in Catholicism. Because that’s what Catholicism is about, in some ways: devotion to your community. The amount of love and support you get is to be admired. It’s the organisation that has been the problem, not the values. Random question number 16!

When’s the last time you were horrifically drunk?

Good question! I was in New York doing press recently for Ripley. And I met Paul Mescal. He had a negroni waiting for me. Love a negroni. And then we went dancing.

Are you a good dancer?

I’m pretty good, freestyle. Slow on choreography but once I get it, I’m OK. I love dancing.

I love dancing.

Do you really? Do you do, like, choreographed dancing as well?

No! But I’m a good dancer.

Do you have moves?

Oh, I have moves.

Ha! I love that!

It’s so freeing, so liberating.

It totally is.

And it’s sexy and fun.

Exactly! It’ll get you a kiss at the end of the night.

It’s sort of showing off, too, isn’t it?

But it’s also completely communal. It connects you with people. Also, you can learn so much about someone by watching how they connect with people on a dance floor. How much of communication do they say is non-verbal? An enormous amount.

If you didn’t live in London, where would you most like to live?

I suppose Dublin. I do live a wee bit in Dublin. But one of the things I feel really grateful for is that I have sort of been able to live all over the place. I lived in Italy for a year, during the pandemic.

You were making Ripley?

Yeah, we were all over. Rome, Venice, Capri, Naples… A bit of New York. I’d love to spend more time in New York. I was very lucky recently to have my picture taken by Annie Leibovitz. We were outside the Chelsea Hotel, and this woman came up. [Thick Noo Yawk accent, shouting]: “Hey, Annie! Why don’t you take a picture of this dumpster? It’s been outside my block for two months! Take a picture of that!” There’s something about that New York-iness that I love. It still has such romance for me.

How old do you feel?

Really young. I don’t have an exact age for you. Thirties?

Some people feel in touch with their childhood selves, or almost unchanged from adolescence. Others seem to have been born an adult.

That’s really true. I think of playgrounds for children: you’re actively encouraged to play, as a kid. “Go out and play!” And I hate that at some point, maybe in your mid-twenties, someone goes, “Now, don’t play! Now, know everything. Now, turn on the television, acquire a mortgage and tell people what you know.” I have to play for a living. It’s so important, not just in your job, but in life. It’s a great pleasure of life, if you can hold on to that. Talking about my mum again, she had an amazing sense of fun.

She was a funny person? She made people laugh?

Absolutely.

That’s important, isn’t it?

It’s really important. I think having a sense of humour is one of the most important things in life. It’s such a tool. And you can develop it. My family were all funny. Laughter was a currency in our family. Humour is a magic weapon. It separates us from the other species. Like, I love my dog. I think dogs are amazing. And he can have fun, but he’s not able to go, “This is fucking ridiculous.” He’s not able to do that! So it’s a real signifier of your humanity, in some ways.

Also, being a funny person, or someone who can connect with people through humour, that’s how we make friends.

I think actors make really good friends. Because you’re in the empathy game. And because you’re making the decision to go into an industry that is really tough, you need to have your priorities straight: “I know this is tough, I know the chances of me succeeding in it are slim, but I’m going to go in anyway.” It shows a sort of self-possession that I think is a wonderful thing to have in a friend. Also, actors are just funny. And a lot of them are sexy!

Funny and sexy: good combination.

I know! Not that you want all your friends to be sexy, that’s not how you should choose your friends.

Oh, I don’t know. It’s not the worst idea.

It’s not. But I think it’s something to do with empathy. And it’s a troupe mentality as well. You’re good in groups.

It’s a gang.

I love a gang. Do you like a gang?

I do. Magazines are like that. A good magazine is a team, a great magazine is a gang. And the thing we produce is only part of it: you put it out there and people make of it what they will. The process of making it is the thing, for me.

Oh, my God. That’s something I feel more and more. Process is as important as product. I really believe that. You can have an extraordinary product, but if it was an absolute nightmare to make then, ultimately, that’s what you’re going to remember about it. You make good things that are successful that everybody loves? That’s lovely. But also, you make stuff that people don’t respond to. So, if you have a good time in the process, and the attempt is a valiant one, and there’s a good atmosphere, if it’s kind and fun, that’s the stuff you hold on to. One of the reasons I love the theatre is you don’t have to see the product. You just do it, and then it’s done. It’s an art form that is ephemeral. There’s a big liberation, too, in discovering you don’t have to watch any of your films if you don’t want to.

Have you watched Ripley?

I watched Ripley once.

And?

It’s a lot of me in it! Jesus!

Is that a problem?

I find it hard to watch myself. I do. There’s something quite stressful about looking at yourself. Have you ever heard yourself on someone’s answering machine? Horrific! You’re like, “Oh, my God, that can’t be me. How do they let me out in the day?” It’s like that, and then it’s your big, stupid face as well. Mostly, I have a feeling of overwhelming embarrassment.

On a cinema screen, I can’t even imagine. Your face the size of a house!

The size of a house, and there’s 400 people watching you.

Nature did not intend humans to ever experience this.

That is so true. It’s not natural.

I mean, even mirrors are to be avoided.

Maybe looking in the sea is the only natural way?

Well, Narcissus!

Yeah, true. That didn’t turn out well. I’d love for that to be a tagline for a movie, though: “Nature did not intend humans to ever experience this…”

But equally, nature didn’t intend the rest of us to gaze upon you in quite that way. We sit in the dark, staring up worshipfully at this giant image of you projected on a screen for hours. Is that healthy?

Without talking about the purity of theatre again, when you’re in the theatre, you, as the audience, see someone walking on the stage, and technically you could go up there, too. There’s not that remove. It’s live. There’s a real intimacy. That’s why I feel it’s the real actor’s medium. Your job is to create an atmosphere. I always find it insanely moving, even still, that adults go into the dark and say, “I know this is fake, but I don’t care: tell me a story.” And they gasp, and they cry, or they’re rolling around the aisles laughing. It’s so extraordinary, so wonderful that it exists. I really do believe in the arts as a human need. I believe in it so deeply. During the pandemic, our first question to each other was, “What are you watching? What book are you reading?” Just to get through it, to survive. It’s not just some sort of frivolous thing. It’s a necessity. As human beings, we tell stories. Expert storytellers are really vital. No, it’s not brain surgery. But, “Hearts starve as well as bodies. Give us bread, but give us roses.” I love that quote.

Tell me about playing Hamlet. Was it what you expected it would be?

It’s extraordinary. Loads of different reasons why. From an acting point of view, there’s no part of you that isn’t being used. So you have to, first of all, have enormous physical stamina, because it’s nearly four hours long. Our version was three hours, 50 minutes. And you have to be a comedian, you have to be a soldier, you have to be a prince, you have to be the romantic hero, you have to be the sorrowful son, you have to understand the rhythm of the language, you have to be able to hit the back of the auditorium — there are just so many things about it that require all those muscles to be exercised. You know, it’s so funny that we’re talking about this today. Because at the beginning of Hamlet, it’s two months since his dad died. His mother has already remarried, to his uncle! What are they doing? I mean the idea that next month my dad might marry someone else is so extraordinary! So, Hamlet’s not mad. Of course he would wear black clothes and be a bit moody. The more interesting question [than whether or not Hamlet is mad] is, who was he before? I think he’s incredibly funny. It’s a really funny play, Hamlet. And it’s a funny play that deals in life and death: the undiscovered country from which no traveller returns. It’s about what it is to be human. And what it’s like to be human is funny, and sad. The language is so incredibly beautiful and it’s also incredibly actable. And it’s also a thriller.

And a ghost story. It’s supernatural.

It’s a supernatural ghost story. And because the character is so well-rounded, I always think of it like a vessel into which you can pour any actor or actress. So, your version, the bits you would respond to if you were playing Hamlet, would be completely different to mine or anyone else’s. It can embrace so many kinds of actors. So Richard Burton can play it or Ben Whishaw can play it or Ruth Negga can play it or I can play it, and it’s going to bring out completely different sides. Did you do much Shakespeare at school?

I did. I studied Hamlet.

I remember Mark Rylance said…

[The waiter arrives with our pies and we both take a moment to admire them before breaking the crusts… The following passages are occasionally hard to make out due to enthusiastic chewing.]

You were about to say something about Mark Rylance. I saw his Hamlet in… must have been 1989, when I was doing my A-levels. He did it in his pyjamas.

I’ve heard. He came to see [my] Hamlet. He said, you feel like you’re on a level with it, and then in week four, you plummet through the layers of the floor and you’re on a deeper level. He was exactly right. Something happens. It’s just got depth.

Does it change you? Do you learn something new about yourself, as an actor?

I think because it’s such a tall order for an actor, it’s sort of like you feel you can do anything after that. Like, at least this is not as hard as Hamlet. You know you have those muscles now. We transferred it from The Almeida on to the West End. So, we did it loads of times. That’s a big achievement.

How many times did you play him?

One hundred and fifty. Twice on a Wednesday, twice on a Saturday. Eight hours [on those days]. Even just for your voice, it’s a lot.

We keep coming back to theatre. Is that because you prefer it?

It goes directly into your veins. It’s pure. You start at the beginning of the story and you go through to the end. When you’re making a movie, it’s a different process. Your imagination is constantly interrupted. You do something for two minutes and then someone comes in and goes, “OK, now we’re going to do Alex’s close-up, so you go back to your trailer and we’re going to set up all the lights and make sure that window across the street is properly lit.” And that’s another 20 minutes, and then you try to get back into the conversation we’ve just been having… And so the impetus is a different one.

The Hot Priest…

What’s that?

Ha! I watched Fleabag again, last week. It’s so good. But The Hot Priest, he’s a coward. He gets a chance at happiness with the love of his life and he doesn’t take it.

Well, not to judge my character, but I suppose there’s an argument that he does choose love. He chooses God. That’s the great love of his life. Whatever his spirituality has given him, he has to choose that. Is there a way that they could have made that [relationship] work? Of course there is. We’re seeing it from Fleabag’s point of view, literally, so of course it feels awful [that Fleabag and the Priest can’t be together]. But I think we understand it, the thing that is not often represented on screen but which an awful lot of people have, which is the experience of having a massive connection with somebody, a real love, that doesn’t last forever. I think somebody watching that can think, “I have my version of that. And I know that I loved that person, but I also know why we couldn’t be together.” And that doesn’t mean those relationships are any less significant. It just means that they are impossible to make work on a practical level. Not all love stories end the same way.

Annie Hall.

There you go! La La Land. Love that movie.

The Hot Priest is damaged. There’s a darkness there. Journalists interviewing actors look at the body of work and try to find through lines that we can use to create a narrative. It’s often a false narrative, I know that. However, that’s what we’re here for! Let’s take Hamlet, and the Priest, and Adam from All of Us Strangers, and, I guess, Vanya himself, even Moriarty. These are not happy-go-lucky guys. Ripley! These men seem lost, lonely, sad. Is it ridiculous to suggest that there’s something in you that draws you to these characters — or is it a coincidence?

That’s a really good question. I think it can’t be a coincidence. Like, even when you said “happy-go-lucky”, right? My immediate instinct is to say, “Show me this happy-go-lucky person.” With a different prism on this person, there would be a part of him that’s not happy-go-lucky, because that’s the way human beings are. If we could think now of a part that’s the opposite of the kind of part [he typically plays], a happy-go-lucky character…

How about the kinds of roles that Hugh Grant plays in those rom-coms? Yeah, the character might be a little bit repressed, a bit awkward at first, but basically everything’s cool, then he meets a beautiful woman, it doesn’t work out for about five minutes, and then it does. The end.

[Chuckles] OK, yeah. I’d love to have a go at that.

Wouldn’t you like to do that?

I would! I really would.

Why haven’t you?

I don’t know! It’s weird. That is something I would really love to do. Because I love those films. There’s a joy to them. It’s something I would love to embrace now. When I was growing up, as a young actor, I did want to play the darkness. With Moriarty, I was like, “I’ve got this in me and I’d like to express it.” And, conversely, now I think the opposite. I know that’s a little bit ironic, given I’ve just played Tom Ripley. Ha! But I have just played it, and I have spent a lot of time in characters that are isolated. And I was in a play [Vanya] that was one person. I don’t feel sad doing those things. It’s cathartic. But I would love the idea of doing something different.

Also, you don’t strike me as a person who is especially morose.

No! No, no, no. I’m not. But again, we all contain multitudes. My mother’s legacy was so joyful. Not that she didn’t have her soulful moments, because of course she did. I mean this as the opposite of morbidity, but it doesn’t end well for any of us, it really doesn’t. So bathing in the murkier waters, it’s wonderful to be able to explore that side of you, but also the opposite is true, the idea of joy and fun and lightness is something I’m definitely interested in. Like a musical! I’d love to be in a musical. I’ve just done a cameo in a comedy that I can’t talk about yet. It was just a day, with someone I really love, and it just lifted me up. But of course, there’s the stuff that people associate you with, and that’s what brings you to the table.

You played a baddie really well, so you get more baddies.

Yeah. You have to be quite ferocious about that. You have to go, “Oh, wow, that really is a great film-maker, that’s a lovely opportunity…” But how much time do you have left and what do you want to put out to the world? I feel like I want to be able to manifest what I have within me now. That’s a wonderful thing to be able to do. It’s such a privilege. And I feel so grateful for the opportunities I’ve been given. But why not get out of the hay barn and play in the hay?

Ripley has been well received. Do you read reviews?

I read some of them.

Why?

I’m interested in the audience. You know when people say, “You should never care about what other people think?” Of course I care what people think.

Ripley is excellent, but it’s quite gruelling to watch. Was it gruelling to make?

Yeah.

Because you have to inhabit this deeply unhappy person?

Maybe not unhappy. But very isolated, I think that’s key. It was hard. There was a huge amount of actual acting. Doing 12-hour days for almost a year. I’m not necessarily convinced you should act that much.

Ripley is himself an actor. He puts on other people’s identities because he doesn’t like his own. He doesn’t like himself. Some people think actors are people who don’t like themselves so you pretend to be other people, assume other identities. Or maybe it’s that actors are hollow shells. When you’re not acting, there’s no one there. No you. Sorry to be rude.

No, it’s not rude at all. I totally understand it. But I find it to be completely the opposite of what I’ve learnt. The essence of acting, for me, the great catharsis of it, is that you’re not pretending to be somebody else, you’re exploring different sides of yourself. You’re going, who would I be in these circumstances? Some of the darkest, most unhappy people I know are the people who say, “I don’t have an angry bone in my body.” Then why do I feel so tense around you? People who have no anger… I remember I used to have it with some religious people when I was growing up. People proclaiming that they’re happy or good or kind, that does not necessarily mean that they are happy or good or kind. That’s the brand they’re selling. I’ve always liked that expression: “fame is the mask that eats into the face.” How do you keep a healthy life when you’re pretending to be other people? You do it by going, “I’m going to admit I have a dark side.” It’s much healthier to shout at a fictional character in a swimming pool [as Moriarty does in Sherlock] than it is to be rude to a waiter in a restaurant, in real life.

You find that therapeutic?

Yes, you’re still expressing that anger. I think it is therapeutic.

So playing Tom Ripley every day for a year, were you able to exorcise something, or work through something?

Well, that’s why I found Tom Ripley quite difficult. He’s hard to know, and a harder character to love. If you think of Adam in All of Us Strangers, you go, “OK, I understand what your pain is.” What I understand with Tom, the essence of that character, is that he’s somebody who has a big chasm that is unknowable, perhaps even to himself. We’re all a little bit like that, we’re all sometimes mysterious to ourselves — “I don’t know why I did that…” — but to have empathy for someone like that is difficult. You know the boy in your class who gets bullied, and it’s awful, and you try and understand it but he doesn’t make it easier for himself? That’s the way I feel about Tom Ripley. It’s a thorny relationship. Your first job as an actor is to advocate for the character. That’s why I hate him being described as a psychopath. Everyone else can say what they like about him, but I have to be like, ‘Maybe he’s just… hangry?’ So you have to try and empathise, try and understand. When we call people who do terrible things monsters — “This evil monster!” — I think that’s a way of absenting yourself from that darkness. Because it’s not a monster. It’s a human being that did this. You can’t look away from the fact that human beings, sometimes for completely unknowable reasons, do terrible things. And that’s why it’s interesting when people talk about Tom Ripley. They say, “Have you ever met a Tom Ripley type?” The reason the character is so enduring is because there’s Tom Ripley in all of us. That’s why we kind of want him to get away with it. That’s [Highsmith’s] singular achievement, I think.

I find reading the Ripley books quite unpleasant. It’s a world I really don’t want to spend any time in. I read two of them preparing for this. She’s a great writer, but they’re horrible characters; it’s a depressing world.

I agree. That’s what I found most challenging. Where is the beating heart here? How much time do I want to spend here? And when you do, well, it took its toll. It did make me question how much time I want to spend with that character, absolutely. That’s the truth.

The way you play him, he’s very controlled. You didn’t play him big.

I think it’s important to offer up difference facets of the character to the director and he chooses the ones he feels marry to his vision. And those are the ones [Steven Zaillian] chose. And he executed those expertly.

Are you a member of any clubs?

Yeah, I’m a member of the Mile High Club. No, no…

That’ll do nicely.

OK, that’s my answer.

What’s your earliest memory?

Do they still have, I think it’s called a play pen?

Sort of like tiny little jails for toddlers? What a good idea they were!

I remember being massively happy in it. My mother used to say she just used to fling me in that thing and give me random kitchen utensils. I don’t know, like a spoon. I’ve always been quite good in my own company. I really remember being left to my own imagination and being very happy.

Do you live alone now?

Yeah.

Is that not lonely?

Of course I’ve experienced that but, ultimately, no. I don’t know if that’s the way I’m going to be for the rest of my life. But I certainly don’t feel lonely. I’ve got so much love in my life.

Would it be OK if you lived alone for the rest of your life?

Yeah. It would be OK. One of my great heroes is Esther Perel.

I don’t know who that is.

Esther Perel. She’s a sort of love and relationships expert, a therapist, and she’s a writer. A real hero, I think you’d really dig her. She talks about relationships and the mythology around them. The difference between safety and freedom. She talks with real compassion about both men and women; she talks about this idea of what we think we want, and what we really want. And how there’s only one prototype for a successful life, really, or a successful relationship. Which is: you meet somebody, da-da-da, you fall in love, da-da-da, you have kids, da-da-da. And that prototype just can’t suit every person in the world. There are some people who live in the world who might see their partner every second Tuesday and that suits them. And to be able to understand and communicate your own preference at any given time is really the aim. To be able to say, “At the moment I’m happy in the way I am, but maybe at some point…” I’ve lived with people before, and maybe I will again, but at the moment it feels right to sort of keep it fluid.

The difficulty, of course, with relationships, is there’s another person with their own preferences. Maybe you’re OK with every second Tuesday, but they need Thursdays and Fridays, too…

But isn’t that the beauty of love? That you construct something, like a blanket. You stitch all these things together. One of the things about being gay and having a life that ultimately is slightly different from the majority of people’s, is you learn that you can create your own way of living, that is different and wonderful. A homosexual relationship doesn’t necessarily have to ape what a heterosexual relationship is. That’s a very important thing to acknowledge. I mean, of course, if you want to do that, that’s brilliant. But you don’t have to. To me, the worst thing is to be dishonest or uncommunicative or unhappy or joyless in a relationship. It’s much more important to be able to have a difficult conversation or a brave conversation about how you feel or what you want. So many of my gay friends, I feel very proud of them, really admiring of the fact we have these conversations. It seems very adult and very loving to be able to acknowledge that the difference between safety and freedom can be real torture for some people. How do I love somebody, and still keep my own sense of autonomy and adventure? That’s a real problem. That’s what Esther Perel says. It’s one of the biggest causes of the demise of a relationship. That people coast along, they can’t have that conversation, and then the whole bottom falls out of the boat.

I wasn’t necessarily going to ask you about being gay. One tries to avoid labelling you as “gay actor Andrew Scott” instead of “actor Andrew Scott, who happens to be gay”. But since we’re talking about it already: because you’re famous, you become a de facto spokesperson for gay people. People look to you for the “gay opinion.” Are you OK with that?

I’ll tell you my thoughts on that. If I talk about it in every interview, it sounds like I want to talk about it in every interview. And, of course, I’m asked about it in most interviews, so I’m going to answer it because I’m not ashamed of it. But sometimes I think the more progressive thing to do is what you’re saying: to not talk about it and hopefully for people to realise that if you had to go into work every single day and they said, “Hey, Alex! Still straight? How’s that going?”… I mean, being gay is not even particularly interesting, any more than being straight is. But I understand, and I’m happy to talk about it. I suppose it depends on the scenario. I just don’t want to ever give the impression that it isn’t a source of huge joy in my life. And at this stage in my life, rather than talk about how painful it might have been or the shame, or not getting cast in things [because of it], actually, I’m so proud of the fact that I’m able to play all these different parts and, hopefully, in some ways it demystifies it and makes people — not just gay people, but all people — go, “Oh, yeah, that’s great that it’s represented in the world, but being gay is not your number-one attribute.” The problem is it becomes your schtick. Frankly, I feel like I’ve got just a bit more to offer than that.

Two reasons I think you get asked about being gay. One is just prurience — you’re famous and we want to know who you’re shagging — and the other is that identity politics is such an obsession, and so polarising, and we hope you’ll say something controversial.

I think that’s right, I think that’s what it is. But sometimes people think there’s just one answer, in 15 characters or less. That’s something I resist, slightly.

All of Us Strangers is about loads of things, about grief, love, loneliness, but it’s also very specifically about being gay. To me, anyway.

Yes, it is.

I thought, in particular, that the scene with Claire Foy, where your character comes out to his mother, was incredibly moving.

Isn’t it extraordinary, though, that you, who is not a gay person, could find that so moving? There’s no way you’d find that moving if it was only about being gay. I always say that coming out has nothing to do with sex. When you’re talking to your parent, you’re not thinking, “Oh, this is making me feel a bit frisky.” Anyone can understand that this is about somebody who has something within them — in this case, it’s about sexuality — that he hopes is not going to be the reason that his parents don’t speak to him anymore. And I think we all have that: “I hope you still love me.” And the great pleasure about All of Us Strangers is that it’s reached not just a particular type of audience, but all types of people. And I love they’re able to market it to everyone. Usually they do this weird thing where they pretend the film’s not gay…

Right. There would be a picture of a woman on the poster.

Exactly. Someone who’s playing the neighbour! But now you’re able to market a film with Paul [Mescal] and I, and the fact is that that’s going to sell tickets. I know there’s a long way to go, but that is progression. Before, that wasn’t the case. This time, no one gave a fuck. Nothing bad happened. The world didn’t explode. Family didn’t collapse.

Identity politics question: there’s an opinion now frequently expressed that gay people ought to be played by gay actors, and so on. What are your thoughts on that?

The way I look at it, if somebody was to make a film about my life — it’d be quite a weird film — would I want only gay actors to be auditioned to play me? I would say that I’m more than my sexuality. But there might be another gay person who feels that’s incredibly important to who they are and how they would like to be represented on film. How do we balance that? I don’t know. I don’t have an easy answer on that. I think it’s a case-by-case thing.

You’ve played straight people and gay people. You’re Irish but you’ve played English people and American people. I would hope you would be able to continue doing that.

The question I suppose is opportunity, and who gets it. It was very frustrating to me, when I was growing up, that there were no gay actors.

Well, there were lots of gay actors…

But not “out” gay actors. Now there are more. Representation is so important. So I think it’s complicated, and nuanced. And talking about it in a general way rather than a specific way is not always helpful. It depends which film we are talking about. Which actor.

You were spared the curse of instant mega-fame, aged 22. Would you have handled that well?

No. I think all that scrutiny and opinion, it’s a lot. Now I’m able to look at a bad review or somebody saying something really horrible about the way I look, or even someone saying really nice things about that, and go [shrugs]. Before, when that happened, it was devastating. But I survived and it was fine, and I got another job and I was able to kiss someone at a disco, so… Whereas if you’re 22 and you don’t have that experience behind you, you go, “Oh, my God. This is horrible, what do I do?” And also, there’s much more scrutiny now, so much more. I think that must be really hard. Social media is a crazy thing, isn’t it?

I think it’s a horrible thing, on the whole.

That thing you were saying about cinema, about how it’s not natural to see yourself, or other people like that… The amount of information that we’re supposed to absorb and process? Wow. You wake up in the morning and you’re already looking at it.

They used to say that the fame of TV actors was of a different order because they are in your home. People felt they knew the stars of Coronation Street in a much more intimate way, while movie stars, Cary Grant or whoever, these were much more remote, almost mythical creatures. People who are famous on Instagram or TikTok are in the palm of your hand talking to you all day.

And it’s so interesting what people on social media choose to tell you about their lives, even when nobody’s asking them any questions. Like, is that person insane? It’s a very dangerous thing. I find it troubling.

Do you think things are getting better or are they getting worse?

That’s such a good question. I have to believe they’re getting better. I don’t know what that says about me.

It says you’re an optimist.

I think I am an optimist.

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever put in your mouth?

Fucking hell. Do you know what I don’t like? Any food that you don’t have to put any effort into eating.

Give me an example.

Custard.

Yes!

I don’t mind ice cream, because it’s got a bit of texture. But I don’t like mashed potato. I don’t like creamed potatoes, or creamed anything.

Risotto?

Absolutely borderline. So if it’s got a little bite to it, it’s OK. But baby food. Ugh! Makes me feel a bit sick.

What’s your favourite of your own body parts?

Ahahah! What do I like? What have we got? I don’t mind my nose? My eyes are OK. Like, my eyes are definitely expressive, God knows. Fucking hell. I remember I was in rehearsal once, and the director said, “Andrew, I just don’t know what you’re thinking.” And the whole company started to laugh. They were like “You don’t? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Because I think I’ve got quite a readable face.

Which is a tool for an actor, right?

It can be a tool for an actor. But you have to learn what your face does, as an actor. On film, your thoughts really are picked up.

What’s your favourite body part that belongs to someone else?

I like hands. And I like teeth. Someone with a nice smile.

Are you similar to your dad?

Yeah, I am. He’s pretty soft-natured, which I think I am, to a degree. He likes fun, too. And he likes people. He’s good at talking to people. He’s kind of sensitive, emotional. He’s a lovely man, a very dutiful dad to us, very loyal.

Would you miss the attention if your fame disappeared overnight?

I definitely think I would miss an audience, if that’s what you mean. The ability to tell a story in front of an audience, I’d miss that. Not to have that outlet.

Before you got famous, you were having a pretty decent career, working with good people, getting interesting parts. Would it have been OK to just carry on being that guy, under the radar?

Oh, my God, yes. Absolutely.

Would you have preferred that to the fame?

The thing is, what it affords you is the opportunity to be cast in really good stuff. You get better roles, particularly on screen. And I’m quite lucky. I have a manageable amount of fame, for the most part.

Some people are born for fame. They love it. They’re flowers to the sun. Others should never have become famous. They can’t handle it. You’ve found you’re OK with it.

Do you know what I feel? I feel, if I was in something I didn’t like, if I was getting lots of attention for something I didn’t feel was representative of me, I think I’d feel quite differently. I feel very relaxed, doing this interview with you today. I feel like, whatever you’re going to ask me, I would feel self-possessed enough to say, “Alex, do you mind if we don’t talk about that?”

Shall we leave it there, then?

Thank you. That was lovely.'

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