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getlancered · 5 months ago

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Okay guys whos ready who is locked in for one of 3 ace attorney turnabout bigtop rewrite ideas. if u guys are hyped for this i will drop the rewrite 7 years in the past where diego is the defense lawyer 🔥 OK LOCK IN

BULLET POINTS FOR LAZY PEOPLE AT THE BOTTOM

i wrote a lot. read it if you love me. also no read more because i hate you read it

rudinn’s painfully detailed rewrite of ace attorney JFA case 3 turnabout bigtop

so. this may be a little all over the place?! because ive never put it in coherent order i just spontaneously get new ideas and add onto it. maybe i should actually tell u guys about the entire rewrite of the original circus tragedy! yes that sounds like a good idea.

june-ish, 2017

it’s supposed to be like 6 months prior to the murder right

i made the idea of failed equipment... essentially russell decides to teach regina how the equipment is hooked up and taken down so she can do it herself when she ideally runs the circus one day. and before a very rushed show where everything is out of order regina decides to be helpful and hook the net up herself! she does it improperly but there isn’t really time to do anything about it befire the show starts. russell insists acro cant perform without a whole functioning net but he trusts his skills and theyve never actually had to put it to use becuase acro and bat are just that talented!

acro, mid performance, many feet in the air misses a catch. instead of falling to his death bat essentially dives down to act like his net and break his fall. they hit the ground, bat dies on impact, acro is permanently paralyzed.

regina doesnt ever see whats happening because ben shields her and himself from watching the fall, which leaves the crowd and moe to watch the death happen in very real time. he never recovers, the incident marks him with CPTSD and he will shut down at any mention of the accident.

☆

after moe breaks down on stage, the berry big circus holds a final performance before a long overdue break to give everyone time to process.

when they resumes performance, russell decides to hire max galactica as the brand new star of the show! he takes a liking to the anxious and unassuming benjamin woodman and is extremely curious about the person he is behind the persona of trilo. being the first person in the circus to take a liking to him as a person and not the crutch to his crippling anxiety, trilo quist, they quickly grow close over the 6 months following.

december 26th, 2017

russell berry is traveling solo for a networking event, and is extremely nervous about leaving the circus in moe’s hands. moe is extremely clumsy and immature. he’s not at all confident in moe’s ability to fire a gun (you know, in the canon game where he shoots a lion? i’m keeping that.) this fear is reinforced during a game of darts between the two of them, where moe rips a hole in the circus tent in an attempt at reassuring russell of his impeccable aim.

russell decides to teach his dear friend how to fire a handgun. and because russell has never fired while wearing gloves, he’s hesitant to let moe try it, so they practice without gloves on. (because how else would the defendant’s fingerprints be on the gun, silly?)

a few hours later…

6 months after his brother’s violent death and acro’s permanent disability by his own misjudgement, he can’t live with himself. he takes russell’s gun from his office up to his room, places a suicide note on his bed, and—

regina berry walks in.

there’s nothing she can do but ask why. having been spared the details and the moment of the death thanks to ben, she doesn’t understand. so acro explains it to her. they have a very heartfelt conversation clearing up a lot of resentment, and they begin their steps together to mending their relationship and acro’s mental health. regina takes his suicide note from his room because he doesn’t need it. she, ultimately, decides to keep it as the first harsh reality she’s had to face and as a milestone for acro getting better.

december 27th, 2017.

uh oh.

by now, the entire circus tent is well aware of maximillian galactica and his anger issues. it’s smart to let him win any disagreement out of fear of it turning into a heated argument.

russell berry laments to moe about this in his office, shortly before the murder. he’s nervous about leaving the circus when he tends to be the mediatior. (mostly between moe and max.) moe tells him, ever so gracefully, that it is russell’s circus and he should fucking act like it, and to please put max in his goddamn place already. aka, talk to him about it. russell, who is notoriously bad at confrontation, decides to go and finally have a long overdue chat with max, who is still in the dinner hall. so he leaves moe in his office to go and do just that. (chronologically, this translates to this scene, but like. with moe instead of max. i havent gotten around to redrawing it...)

meanwhile…

everybody in the circus treats acro and his disability like a forbidden topic, and max is sick of it! all he has for some damn context around here is a picture of the scene in action, which is supposedly in a tabloid somewhere. he’s not satisfied with this, so he decides to go straight to the source and demand that someone finally tell him what the hell happened to this shitshow of a circus.

acro, of course, attempts to calmly turn him down, but max refuses to take no for an answer. when acro gets defensive, their argument turns heated.

you all know this scene well as ben and max’s argument. however, instead, max breaks the bottle over acro’s head. he immediately goes limp, blood spilling down his split forehead a-la turnabout trump.

max fucking panics. he takes his obnoxious hat and uses it to cover acro’s wound, and then wheels the dead man straight to benjamin woodman in absolute hysterics over what to do.

ben proposes the idea of faking acro’s suicide, citing that he was already suicidal and that way no one goes to jail! max has no reason to deny it. so ben tells max to retrieve russell’s gun, a pen, and a piece of paper while ben takes acro’s body upstairs to his room.

at the same time max is heading out to retrieve the items, russell has finally gotten around to speaking to max after procrastinating with a few chores regarding regina’s animals. he walks into the dining hall to see a small pool of blood on the ground, a broken glass bottle, and no max.

what’s it like to be a murderer?

well, when you’re max galactica and moe is asleep at the desk in russell’s office? pretty easy after a quick heart attack. there’s papers on top of russell’s desk, though. looks like someone’s been snooping. he takes the items he needs, remaining undetected, and then meets ben in acro’s room.

ben creates the forged note while max removes acro’s headpiece and drapes his hair in a way that conceals the wound. he then attempts to work up the courage to shoot acro in the temple with russell’s gun. after some more hysterics from max trying to hold a gun, ben decides to do it on his own. while wearing max’s gloves of course, he’s not stupid.

he might actually be stupid though, because he later ends up leaving his beloved trilo quist behind. oops! ben and max carefully lay acro on the bed and leave their victimless crime behind. it’s better this way, isn’t it? now nobody has to be arrested.

not unless your name is moe and your life sucks!

upon waking up hours later, still very russell-less, moe decides to check in on acro because it seems long overdue given how late into the night it’s gotten. he opens the door to see acro lying dead in his bed, and he breaks.

he holds acro close for a long long time. he just holds acro and cries. when he’s too tired to cry anymore, he sits on the floor at the foot of acro’s bed, head to his knees in a state of shock. and he remains that way even when russell finds the two of them, even when russell attempts to shake him out of shock. even as police cars pull up and whisk him away from the scene of the crime.

at first, nothing is out of the ordinary. acro died by suicide, he left the note. regina is sobbing, insisting that he would never, but as a young girl who has never had to deal with grief to such a degree before, her cries aren’t taken to heart.

not until they discover the real cause of death, and a moe’s fingerprints on the gun.

gumshoe takes moe in handcuffs, attempting to calm the panicking clown under the guise of “asking a few questions.” when he lets the fingerprints slip, moe calls to russell to tell them what’s actually going on and to clear up the horrible misunderstanding!

russell does not. he stares in somewhat of a trance at the ordeal unfolding in-front of him. being a man who cannot act without a prior plan of what exactly to do, he isnt sure what to say to make sure moe isn’t incriminated further. so he says nothing, and moe is taken to the detention center.

umm the rest of this is. a little vague? i havent worked out the trials or investigation sequences yet.

i do plan for this little rewrite of mine to, one day, be a playable thing! i am so passionate about this case that i want people to see it through a new light and love it like i do.

i will give you all the unstructured rundown of my ideas further, including my evidence list, some fun little dialogue snippets, potential sprites i’d be drawing, and a couple of random ideas for what could happen during the playable bit of the game.

evidence list!

basically just everything phoenix will find/have on him throughout the case. sorted by room and in order of discovery. sort of. subject to change…

misc/given:

Attorney’s Badge - It’s my all-important badge. It shows that I am a defense attorney.

Maya’s Magatama - Slightly translucent. It radiates softly with a mysterious light.

Crime Photo - A picture of the crime scene. (recieved from detective gumshoe)

Moe’s Gloves - They’re covered in blood. Supposedly, because he was holding the body. (recieved from moe)

Incident Photo - A picture of Acro mid-air. (recieved from max)

Newspaper Clipping 1 - Acrobat Sean Dingling falls to his death. (recieved from russell)

Acro’s Autopsy Report - Time of death: 8:30 PM. Cause: Sharp force trauma to the forehead. (presented by detective gumshoe)

Pistol - Belongs to Russell. Two shots fired. Bears Acro’s and Moe’s fingerprints. (presented by detective gumshoe)

Broken Glass Bottle - The murder weapon. Found in the cafeteria trashcan covered in blood. (presented by franziska)

Newspaper Clipping 2 - Berry Big Circus closing it’s doors for the foreseeable future to watch the health of their performers. (presented by franziska)

ringmaster’s room:

Max G. Promo Poster - Covered in sparkles. His stage makeup is certainly flashy.

The Flying Dingling-Berries Promo Poster - It’s color is faded from years in the spotlight.

Letter of Resignation - An unsigned letter detailing someone’s desire to move on to better employment opportunities.

big top:

Torn Circus Tent - A large hole torn in the main tent of the Big Top. Not far below a hanging dart board.

Acrobat’s Net - A tightly-strung net for the acrobat’s performance.

cafeteria:

Bloody Footprints - Despite having seemingly no origin, a short trail of footprints lead from the cafeteria to the Ringmaster’s Room.

moe’s room:

Sentimental Photo - A framed photo of a young Acro and Bat with Moe wrapping his arms around them.

regina’s room:

Suicide Note 2 - Hidden in Regina’s drawer. Acro will never be able to put the accident behind him, but he doesn’t want to keep the circus in the past with him.

acro’s room:

Suicide Note 1 - Left on Acro’s nightstand. Acro can’t live with himself knowing Bat died because of him.

Trilo Quist - A ventriloquist's puppet. An operatic tenor who doubles as Ben's sidekick.

Headband - A golden headband with red gems. There’s traces of blood on it.

ben’s room:

Silk Hat - Made-to-order fedora that is a symbol of Max's fabulousness. There’s blood on the inside of the hat.

White Gloves - Pristine white gloves with a bit of sparkle. Also, traces of gunpowder.

WHEW. Done

some things i cooked up regarding evidence pieces…

Incident Photo - A picture of Acro mid-air. (recieved from max)

when interrogating max and presenting the acrobat’s promo poster to him, you get this line of dialogue.

Max: Oh, hmm…They were fabulous, I’ve heard. And believe me, I’ve heard very little. They’re something of a touchy subject.

Max: When I asked why, Ben gave me this photo and told me to never bring it up again.

Max: Apparently it was rather the scandal! They had to close temporarily until I came along, of course~

max gives you the incident photo, which you then show to the members of the circus. phoenix learns from regina and russell that, aside from acro, moe took the incident the hardest. russell also gives you the first newspaper clipping.

when you show this photo to moe in the detention center, he freezes up and puts up psyche-locks. i haven’t done much with those yet, though.

The Flying Dingling-Berries Promo Poster - It’s color is faded from years in the spotlight.

when you show this to moe, he absolutely loses it laughing. that’s it. just a stupid bit about how absolutely awful their name is. he cracks the expected jokes.

Newspaper Clipping 2 - Berry Big Circus closing it’s doors for the foreseeable future to watch the health of their performers. (presented by franziska)

franziska, at some point in the trial while moe is on the stand, attempts to make a case against him and how he’s mentally unstable using the clipping being about his breakdown on the stage. she also brings up his severe depression he experienced for some time after the accident, his unnatural behavior upon finding the body/his response to fear, and his tendency to severely dissasociate any time the accident is brought up.

Letter of Resignation - An unsigned letter detailing someone’s desire to move on to better employment opportunities.

various reaction dialogue snippets incoming

Moe: Me? Quit? HAHAH! Yeah right, Wright! I think Russ would feed me to the lions if I even tried. Ha. Haha…

Moe: …I’ve got no reason to, anyhow. They’re like my family.

Moe: Give it to Max. I’ve always hoped its his. The whole circus would be better off if an attitude like his would magically disappear!

——

Max: Oh, darling, this circus wouldn’t run the same without me! I bring a fabulous sparkle that’s impossible to replace~

Max: Not to mention a fabulously packed audience. I make the circus all of it’s money, sweetie.

Max: Not a soul on this earth could resist the talent that is Maximilian Galactica!

Max: Hmm…Don’t let word slip, now, but Ben might know a thing or two. He’s been having a few…struggles, lately.

——

Trilo: Max and his big mouth…! He’s a huge gossip! Him and his fancy agency…

Trilo: Those flamboyant douchebags are used to spilling all sort of secrets, I tell ya!

Ben: W-What—um, Trilo is try—trying to say—

Trilo: Spit it out! Ugh. It’s not his, and it sure ain’t mine! Ben’s a quitter, but not me, no siree.

Trilo: I hate these looney-tunes bunch of jokes, but the entertainment industry is all about CONNECTIONS! Max is like a goldmine! No way I’m leaving now.

Trilo: Ben and this Berry-Big-Joke are stuck with me!

Trilo: It’s Acro’s. Gotta be. I thought he was gonna kill himself, which…Oops! Awkward. But he must’ve—

Ben: Tr-Trilo…! Goodness! Don’t speak ill of th—the…of the…

Trilo: Dead?! It’s not “speaking ill” if it’s just the facts! Are you trying to silence me?! Your own partner?!

Ben: …

Trilo: Thought so.

Trilo: Yeah, not sure what happened! He probably tried to quit and then gave up and killed himself or something. Who knows!

Ben: M-my gosh…

it’s bens btw. he’s a liar.

brief playable section outlined? i dont have a lot of specifics…

opens with a playable bit from the POV of moe waking up in the ringmaster's room. he walks around the berry big circus in a bit of a daze. when he leaves to see a dark sky, he comments on how late it is and that he should probably go check on acro. you find the body and get a bit of an emotion snippet before it fades to black.

maya calls phoenix and tells him to look at the TV, apparently there's been a death at the berry big circus that they went to see the day prior and they should check it out.

moe isn't visible in the detention center. that is, until maya presses her face to the glass and sees moe sitting on the floor, pouting. he tells phoenix and maya, who he mistakes for max galactica paparazzi, to go away. you show him your attorney's badge and get a dialogue bit about him being abandoned by russell, and also not believing this is genuinely a murder and just a suicide. when you get through to him that he is under arrest for murder, he essentially begs phoenix to represent him. like usual, maya guilt trips him into it.

russell is in the bigtop circus tent. you question him about the hole, and he tells you about moe's terrible aim. you bring up a dialogue bit about "abandoning moe" and he tells you about the arrest. you can show him the acrobat/max promo posters after picking them up and get a bit about that too.

you chase ben around the circus for a bit before finding regina in the lodging house and learning that he doesn't talk to anyone unless he has trilo. you also talk to regina about the murder, she reinforces that this can’t be a suicide because acro would never do anything like this. not after all they talked about.

talk to gumshoe in acros room, discuss what he knows about the case and get respective evidence pieces from gumshoe. and also get trilo.

give trilo to ben, talk to him about the circus. also, talk about the supposed new star of the circus and how great he is. after showing max’s promo poster.

break into moe’s room. find his very sweet photo of acro and bat

trial one, gumshoe first as per usual. trial 2-1, brief testimony from moe about his alibi. cross examine regina about her conversation with acro. then, cross examine her about the gunshot she heard and the time she heard it. trial 2-2, cross examine russell about his alibi. prove that he isnt really telling the court everything he knows.

second investigative period, this is where it gets way less structured LOLOL. meet max formally for the first time, get the incident picture from him. investigate more about the incident.

show the picture to regina, she gives you testimony about the accident and moe. show the picture to russell, he gives you the newspaper clipping. show the picture to ben, he tells you about him giving it to max.

you can show moe’s sentimental picture to ben and get a bitter little dialogue bit! nothing fun, yet.

show the letter of resignation around. get the dialogue pieces i showed earlier. unlock some psyche locks from ben to find out that its his

break into reginas room. find acro’s not forged very real suicide note

break into bens room. find everything incriminating max galactica

show moe the newspaper clippings and unlock some psyche locks and he cries to you for a very very long time about the accident

more psyche locks from russell probably. argument between max and acro revealed and the rest of the shit he’s been hiding. man i dont know

trial 4-1, cross examine moe and his testimony some more. franziska calls him crazy for a while. put him to the side while you get a very brief max galactica testimony, then some stuff from ben. trial 4-2 ben openly breaks down on the stand about feeling unloved and left out by the circus and that max is the only person who gives a shit. cross examine max and find out about the argument with acro. max galactica murder breakdown. thats it? we win? max goes to jail?

HOLD IT BITCH. the stupid clown is not done. he starts begging phoenix not to ruin their circus, that max can’t be a murderer because he’s the star and acro must have killed himself. phoenix gives moe acro’s real suicide note and then he just cries on the stand for a while.

comfort moe some more outside of the courtroom, convince him that acro doesn’t hate him forever and that the circus will be okay.

the end 🔥

BULLET POINTS FOR LAZY PEOPLE HERE‼️

regina fucks up the net for the acrobat performance. no one does shit about it. acro and bat fall and die. onlt bat dies though actually

moe is FUCKED UP over it. breaks down on stage and the circus shuts down PTSD PARTAY

enter gayboy stage left he flirts with ben like no freakin tomorrow dude

russell has to leave for work because plot purposes and moe is fucking stupid. tears a hole in the tent trying to prove to russell that hes not fucking stupid

so russell teaches moe how to fire a gun incase he needs to Fire A Gun while russell is gone. gloves off duh silly his fingerprints gotta be on there somehow!

yeah when theyre done with that gun acro tries to KILL HIS FUCKIN SELF

regina finds him and cries. they makesies upsies and become best friends. so regina takes his suicide note

MAX GALACTIA IS A FUCKING CUNT. — russell berry to moe in his room. moe tells him to Man the fuck up snd talk to him

moe falls asleep when russell leaves lol

while they talk about this shit max galactica proceeds to be a fucking cunt by killing acro with a glass bottle because acro didnt wanna tell him about his tragic dead brother

max puts his hat on acro’s head to hide the gaping fucking wound. goes to his forbidden gay lover to ask what to do with a dead body?! the Normal Logical Thing of course; stage a suicide

russell procrastinated btw so when he goes to find max he finds blood instead

max finds stuff to forge a suicide note, and because he’s too much of a pussy to shoot acro himself ben does it for him. like a good boyfriend

moe wakes up like 5 hours later after a terrible nap and stumbles around the circus until he finds a Body

holds acro instead of calling the cops. sits on the floor instead of calling the cops

when russell finds them in the morning and calls the cops they arrest moe after like 2 seconds of realizing its not a suicide and this dumb bitchs fingerprints are on the gun

Russell doesnt do shit btw. lets it happen. like the loser he is.

im not bullet pointing the playable stuff this shit took fucking forever

THATS MY ABSOLUTELY DERANGED BIGTOP RANT. thanks for reading if you love me. PLEASE READ THIS AND ENJOY THIS CASE AS MUCH AS ME

#this is for the single person who asked for my rewrite #ace attorney #moe curls #ken dingling #acro ace attorney #russell berry #benjamin woodman #max galactica #regina berry #spade rambles #phoenix wright #maya fey #this is so embarassingly detailed.#sorry to my bff and gf who have heard about every single step of this #im so proud pls read it #one day i will make it playable

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vikenticomeshome · 16 days ago

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Carl's Cool Kids and Hardee's Cool Kids Meal Toys (part 1/?)

Hello all,

Not too long ago, I made a post about the Cyberchase toys that were available from Carl's Jr. and Hardees back in 2003. This was a tiny part of the Cool Kids promotion that was shared between the two restaurants. The Cool Kids promotion itself lasted about 18 years, based on the archives that I have seen. It started with a "Cow and Chicken" promotion back in February of 2000.

The last promotion is unknown, as the links for November 2017 through April 2018 are missing their graphics, and their target pages are broken. The last one that has its image archived was an August/September 2017 promotion for "oddbods".

For the most part, I am going to stick to the "past promotion" pages, as those give us images and names for all of the products all in one image. If this is missing, then I will attempt to use the set of images from the "toy closeups" page. However, I will need to skip some of these promotions entirely, as I was unable to find images from them.

The year 2000

For February and March of 2000, we have a set of toys from the legendary old Cartoon Network show "Cow and Chicken". I remember watching this sometimes when visiting my grandma, who had cable. I don't really remember it though.

For April and June of 2000, was have "Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot". I have never heard of this before. It ran on Fox Kids in 2001, so I am a bit surprised that I didn't see it alongside other shows I watched back then.

For June and July of 2000, we get a version of Tom and Jerry that was airing on cartoon network. What can I say about these two that hasn't already been said? I remember watching a few incarnations of Tom and Jerry. I think this is the one with William Hanna and Joseph Barbara. It doesn't look like the Chuck Jones variant from what I remember.

For July and August of 2000, we get some superheroes from DC. One thing I notice about these toys is that they don't have a consistent art-style. Wonder Woman is a particularly obvious outlier. They don't seem to be associated with a particular cartoon incarnation.

For September and November of 2000, we have "Brothers Flub". My only opportunity to watch Nickelodeon was visiting my grandma. I don't think I ever saw this show. Apparently the brothers are space couriers.

For October of 2000, we get "Monster Buckets". This picture is grainy, so I cannot make out all of the art. I wonder if this was custom-made, or if this was pre-existing art.

For November and December of 2000, we get "Tiny Toon Adventures". I've only seen bits and pieces of this myself. I know it has a huge following that endures to this day.

For January and February of 2001, we got toys for "Godzilla: The Series". This is another one that aired on Fox Kids back when I watched that channel. However, I don't remember ever seeing this series.

For March and April of 2001, we got "Max Steel". I had never heard of this series before. Apparently, this kids gets attacked by the villain and nearly killed by nano-bots. In an effort to save his life, he is given T-Juice, which saves his life and gives him superhuman abilities.

For April and May of 2001, we get "Monster Rancher". This is not a franchise that I am familiar with, but it is apparently pretty big and ongoing.

For June 2001, we get Crash Bandicoot. He's kind of a big deal. And Spyro is here as well.

For July and August of 2001, we got Wallace and Grommit. This was before the "Curse of the Were-Rabbit" film, which was probably my introduction to the franchise.

And now, we reach a gap. In September 2001, there was a Nascar promotion. And then, in November and December of 2001, there was an "Olive the Other Reindeer" promotion. I couldn't find any official photos for these promotions.

2002

In January and February of 2002, we got Phantom Investigators. I find this promotion fascinating. The series only ran for 13 episodes, between May and August of 2002. These are probably the only toys that were ever released for the series. They may be the only merch of any sort released for the show. I need to sit down and watch it, as the art style is something really special.

For February and March of 2002, we get a Pokemon promotion with little cups topped with Pikachu, Totodile, Mewtwo, and Charizard.

For April and May of 2002, we get the legendary magical girl anime Cardcaptors, based on the manga Cardcaptor Sakura.

And now, we get another gap. I couldn't find any official images for the June 2002 Spider-man promotion.

For August 2002, we get some Digimon toys.

For September 2002, we get "Jackie Chan Adventures". I loved this show growing up. I didn't get to see it very often, but it was good.

For October 2002, we got some Spider-man Halloween buckets.

For November and December of 2002, we go back to the classics for Peanuts, specifically "A Charlie Brown Christmas".

2003

Before we get into the 2003 promotions, let's bring back Cyberchase for a moment. While surviving bags of the togs show that they were released at Carl Jr's and Hardees in 2003, we don't know exactly when they were out. They were never given a promotion of their own. Instead, they were the backup toys when the currently running promotion was sold out. I'm not sure why they didn't give Cyberchase its own promotion.

For January and February of 2003. we got a promotion for the original Ice Age.

For March and April of 2003, we got a promotion for Cubix. This was a South Korean production that got a 4-Kids English dub. I don't remember it.

For May and June of 2003, we get a promotion for Dragon Ball. I hope I don't need to explain what this is. It's kind of a big deal.

For July and August of 2003, we get a promotion for "The Martians".

Now, hold on a second, I don't remember a cartoon called "The Martians" from back then. And I cannot find a cartoon by that name. Wait a minute...

Yeah, I guess Carl Jrs. and Hardees weren't comfortable with the original title of "Butt-Ugly Martians", so they renamed it to "The Martians" and re-did the logo. I couldn't find anything on the Wikipedia page about the show being renamed for different broadcasters or countries, so this may have been just for this toy release. How bizarre.

For August and September of 2003, we get a promotion for everyone's favorite mummy movie.

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cnschedulearchive · 5 months ago

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In the past decade, which year do you think was CN and AS Best year for their schedules? Same question for the worst.

Since 2015, whenever I started actually paying attention to these things (it'd take until 2017 for me to actually make this blog though), I'd say CN's roughest year was 2020. They had ZERO new shows save for ThunderCats Roar (which they buried instantly) and any momentum they had from the start of the year with Infinity Train and Steven Universe Future got thrown to the wind in favor of moving CN's entire slate of new originals like Fungies and Tig n' Seek and shows like Summer Camp Island and Infinity Train to HBO Max, where CN failed (and still fails!) to advertise them on-air, leaving only the social media to be able to promote them, and that doesn't do as much as you'd think it could. So CN didn't have much to premiere that year outside of TTG or Craig or whatever. I almost considered calling it quits before early 2021 and the shakeup Tom Ascheim was wanting to do.

CN's having a more interesting time nowdays, if anything I'd say 2024 seems to be one of the more varied years I've seen yet. 2022 had the anniversary, but there wasn't too much with the schedule until September that year. Things have been building up ever since, to the point where Regular Show airs for 2 hours a day and the Scooby-Doo Show from the 70s somehow has an hour on Sundays. It's an interesting time, interesting schedule.

Adult Swim's best year schedule wise is probably 2020. They still had Family Guy for guaranteed ratings success at peak hours but the limits they had on it, Dad, and Bob's encouraged them to experiment a lot. A lot of fun marathons happened that year, including a couple of viewer created marathons (yours truly got to schedule a Rick and Morty marathon, AnnieSchoolie got to schedule an Aqua Teen marathon, my friend coolkevin54 got to schedule a Cowboy Bebop marathon). Worst? Uhhh idk. 2022 was sorta bland. KOTH and Futurama flooded the schedule after coming back and DVR Theater was frequently gone entirely.

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denimbex1986 · 6 months ago

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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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bylrndgm · 2 years ago

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Did S2's finale give us a clue about S4's final shot?

Today, in this post, I want to go down a really interesting parallel between S2 and S4 with you.

But, to do that, I need to take you back to 2017, when the final episode of S2 aired. It's Oct. 27th, and people are watching this exact scene on their screens:

I have never paid attention to it... until recently. That is what I'll be focusing on: Mount Sinai.

Please, stick around, and dive with me into this under the cut.

𝟏. 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐩

Before getting into, it, we will need Hawkin's map. Here is one, updated to S4. I highlighted the places that will be useful in this post.

Circled in red -> The Creels' house (thanks to @pinkeoni, since I'm blind af)

Circled in orange -> Location of Cerebro

Circled in yellow -> Hopper's cabin

Highlighted in green -> Mt. Sinai.

𝟐. 𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐢'𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲

If you, like me, had to go through endless hours of Religion Education in school, then the name Mount Sinai will... ring a bell in your mind.

Yes. The Bible. Once again.

Mount Sinai is "the mountain at which the Ten Commandments were given to Moses by God".

You know, interesting.

I was thinking about why they would mention it in Stranger Things. Perhaps it was nothing... perhaps it could mean something.

It scratched the top of my head, but it was a fleeting thought, and I couldn't exactly put my finger on it.

Until this very day.

𝟑. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞

Let's fast forward to Jul. 1st, 2022. Volume 2 of ST4 just dropped and many, like me, really thought Will and Mike were about to hold hands, there, on that hill - oh, delusional me.

I am sure there is no need to remind you of the final sequence of S4, but for this post's purposes, here we go:

It starts outside Hop's cabin and follows on top of a hill.

That is where I asked myself which hill was that.

Could've been the one where Cerebro was installed

Or, could've been Mount Sinai.

𝟒. 𝐂𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬?

I pretty much think the place they're in it's Mount Sinai. For two main reasons:

It's near the Creels' house

Look how Mt. Sinai is described in the Bible:

Interestingly similar to the final shot, right? Here are some paintings that portray Mt. Sinai:

(Open for better quality) -> you have to agree with me that they do look a lot like the scenario shown at the end of S4.

𝟓. 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

I have no idea what may be the implications of this, so I'll leave it to the clever minds of this tag.

However, here is another thing:

It could very much be that God = Vecna. In the sense that Vecna is the God of Evil -> don't forget about the Creel's house nearby.

In S4, there were a lot of callbacks to S2. You can't disagree: the snowball, the Jaws poster in Will's room, his birthday too - apparently.

I would not be surprised if Lucas telling Max to make a left on Mount Sinai meant something... and if that something came back in S4, as it had heavy callbacks to Christianity and satanism.

And even if it did, why did the writers choose to set the final shot on top of Mount Sinai? The very same that has such a rooted legacy and a deep meaning in religions like Judaism and Christianity?

According to some, Sinai comes from sin, and sin is a recurring motif in Stranger Things' latest season. You can't deny it's all tied together.

#byler #<- target audience lol #ST4 #mine #mom #made by elz with love

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jules-has-notes · 7 months ago

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2017 VoicePlay winter activities — ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

With a new year came new projects and collaborators, as well as several personal milestones for the guys.

Auld Lang Syne

VoicePlay started the year on someting of a bittersweet note, finally making the offical announcement of Tony's retirement from the group. Fans had been remarking on his increasing absences from VoicePlay's content and concerts over the preceding year, so the formal confirmation that he had left was sad, but certainly less upsetting in knowing that it was an amicable decision.

youtube

Five years of frequent, extended travel had taken their toll. Tony wanted to spend more time at home with his family, and refocus his creative energies on new projects through PattyCake Productions, the studio he and Layne had been building over the previous year.

On a happier note, Eli and Ashley entered the home stretch in preparing for their wedding.

Hot and cold

As they said in the audition video, the remaining guys didn't let a vacancy disrupt their other plans. They continued to alternate between Erik Winger and J.None as their stand-in baritones as they hit the road almost immediately.

First they picked up Winger and headed south for a stylish wedding in the Florida Keys.

Then they scooped up J.None and returned to snowy NYC for the annual APAP conference after skipping it the year before.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by J.None 🧈🎶 🎙📝🎬🎹🎸📽🤣 (@itsjnone)

instagram

Once they got home, it was time for some more rehearsals before they performed at a couple local private events and filmed their next video.

youtube

This song wasn't fast enough already, guys? Yeesh!

Jacobson nuptials

And of course everyone gathered to celebrate at Eli and Ashley's wedding.

From the road to the air

Toward the end of the month, Layne and Tony gathered up a few family members and friends and headed to southern Florida for their next PattyCake project.

When they got home, VoicePlay snagged J.None again and flew out west to "crash Eli's honeymoon" and headline the annual Napa Valley A Cappella Extravaganza.

Part of the extended family

During their week at home between road dates, Earl got to meet Jodi Benson, voice of the animated Ariel, during a Nemo post-show meet and greet session.

Round and round

The next weekend, the guys and Winger headed up to New Jersey for a show in Rahway with opening act Garden State Sound Quartet. The concert received some preliminary hype in the local press, and a very nice recap.

photos by Love Imagery, via New Jersey Stage ; and by Garden State Sound Quartet

Then they popped home long enough to pick up J.None and Max Herskovitz for a five day trip to the Bahamas aboard the Disney Dream. While the other guys were at sea, Layne got into some tech geekery for an interview with Lens Depot as part of their customer spotlight series.

Once they disembarked, they bade farewell to Max and scooped up Layne for a quick jaunt to Maryland.

Making a name

After a few quiet days at home, they met up with Winger again to sing the national anthem as the opening to Full Sail University's annual alumni Hall of Fame induction ceremony.

During a shopping trip the next day, Layne found a hat with surprisingly accurate embroidery. He joked that it "should have a question mark at the end", and his sister noted that a needle and thread could easily amend it. I'd argue that, like a lot of performing artists, they're more "situationally famous".

Frozen treats

The weekend took VoicePlay (again with Winger) north to St. Joseph, MN for a show attended by several longtime fans and local gent Chris Rupp.

sleepy Layne, Paul, and Erik heading north very early in the morning

Home time

Over next week, Layne, Tony, and Earl were busy filming PattyCake's next project, "Beauty and the Bieber", at several locations around Orlando. Meanwhile, Geoff and Kathy took advantage of the slight lull in their schedules and had a babymoon date night at a Take 6 / Manhattan Transfer concert.

But, of course, the VoicePlay momentum picked up again at their weekly planning meeting.

Ahoy-hoy

The week after that, they gathered up J.None and Max again for another loop around the Caribbean on the Disney Dream.

When they got home, they headed over to a local art school to perform at a fundraiser for their theater program. The lineup for the evening also included Brian Fortuna from Dancing with the Stars and Orshi Horvath, and a newly formed local boy band called the Beatline Boys.

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VoicePlay accompany Brian and Orshi for a dance

Family time

The next few days were spent doing their own thing and marking some big milestones. Geoff and Kathy had their baby shower. Earl and Nick bought a new home.

Back to work

The final weekend of the season was bookended by video shoots with new collaborators. Friday saw them team up with theme park pal Matthew Darren for a club jam mashup, while Monday brought a peppy breakup song with Broadway performer John Pinto, Jr.

Once those were in the can, it was time to hit the road again, but that's a story for a another time.

#VoicePlay #traveling musicians #behind the scenes #music #video #long post #link-o-rama

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likeadevils · 1 year ago

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2012 Lover Diaries Transcripts

Feb 2012

Holy Ground Lyrics

Mar 2, 2012- Perth, Australia

So here we are in Perth. It’s a beach town on the Indian Ocean and it’s beautiful. It’s 85º and sunny and yesterday I went to Cottesloe Beach – I’ve never seen water that crystal blue before. And white sand. There was this art festival going on, so there were all these sculptures set up on the beach. We laid our towels out and got tans and frolicked in the water. After our beach afternoon, we went to this restaurant right on the beach called Indiana. It was built in 1910 and looked like an old fancy hotel. It’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve been, with old world arches and moldings, antique tables and big french doors opening out to views of azure blue ocean. We sat there for hours drinking strawberry mojitos and eating calamari until I was so tired, I went back to my fluffy hotel bed and slept. I’ve been thinking a lot about getting older and relevancy and how all my heroes have ended up alone. I wrote a song on the plane ride from Sydney to Perth on the appalachian dulcimer I bought the day of my flight. I bought it because Joni played on most of her blue record. I taught myself to play ‘A Case of You.’ Anyway, I wrote a song on it called “Nothin New” and it’s about being scared of aging and things changing and losing what you have. It says “I’m getting older and less sure of what you like about me anyway.” And in the chorus it says “How can a person know everything at 18, and nothing at 22? And will you still want me … when I’m nothing new.” It’s a really vulnerable song, but I think it’s important to say.

Jun 10, 2012- Los Angeles, CA

I’ve been in the studio non stop. This week I was in with Max Martin and Johan Shellback, the guys I wrote ‘Getting Back Together’ with. The first day, I had to do this corporate performance for an arena full of managers. I played Love Story and Mean, solo acoustic and Justin Timberlake was MCing so he introduced me. Hilarious sense of humor. He was making the whole arena laugh. When I finished there, I got on the plane and this idea came to me “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22.” I wrote the entire chorus on the plane ride to LA. When I landed, I went straight to the studio and played it for Max and Johan. They loved it. I was so excited. I wrote 22 about how much fun I’ve been having this summer and this year in general. It’s so carefree and sounds like a summer anthem. I was floating on a cloud after we wrote it. The next day I brought them a chorus called 'Trouble’ that’s about how I should’ve known what I was getting into. We came back to 'Trouble’ and it turned out to be absolutely amazing. It’s so edgy and unexpected. It’s almost dub step. My friends love that one the most. I love writing so much. It’s the only thing that makes total sense to me. If I missed a day in the studio, I’d be so mad at myself. God I’ve been having such a beautiful life lately. I can’t believe it. It’s like there’s magic in the air. Friday was my day off. I woke up and went hiking. Then went home and showered. painted my nails, daydreamed about our trip for 4th of July. Taylor

Oct 17, 2012- Los Angeles, CA

This Love lyrics

(2003 • 2004 • 2005 • 2006 • 2007 & 2008 • 2009 • 2010 • 2011 • 2012 • 2013 • 2014 • 2015 • 2016 & 2017)

#lover diaries*#note: dates and place names are from my notation not taylors #and i didnt transcribe the specific lyrics bc the formatting was giving me a headache #so go to taylorpictures.net if you want those

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pinturas-gran-guerra-aire · 2 years ago

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1917 01 04 Von Richthofen's 16th victory - Thomas La Padula

Richthofen's 16th Victory.

The First Canadian pilot to fall under the guns of the Red Baron was Flight Lieutenant Allan Switzer Todd. As part of the Royal Naval Air Services, 8th Squadron, Todd was flying a Sopwith Pup, No. 5193 on January 4, 1917. Todd and his Squadron were sent to the Somme Front to counter the aggressive activity of the German Albatros aircraft. The British pilots attacked aggressively when Richthofen’s Jasta arrived on the scene. So much so that Todd \pilot \out the Red Baron and began his attack. Unfortunately, as Richthofen puts it,” the enemy plane was superior to ours. Only because we were three against one, we detected the enemy’s week points. I managed to get behind him and shoot him down.”

Todd’s plane fell apart while falling through the sky, landing in the vicinity of Metz-en-Couture. Cause of death was either from gunshot wounds or crash trauma. Some valuables of Todd were collected by the Germans and returned. Over time his gravesite became lost due to the turmoil of war. Todd’s name is on the Arras Memorial to the Missing.

Two days after shooting down Todd, Richthofen received a telegram from the Kaiser. It read simply: ‘His Majesty, the Kaiser, has awarded the Orden Pur le Merite to Leutnant von Richthofen’. The Orden Pur le Merite could be awarded to any military officer regardless of his branch of service, however its most famous recipients were German Pilots during the Great War. The medal was to be worn whenever the recipient was in uniform. Informally known as the Blue Max, it was supposedly given that name in honor of the German ace Max Immelman, who awarded the medal on the same day in 1916 as Otto Boelcke, Richthofen’s mentor. Originally given for 8 Aerial Victories the number was later raised to 16 in early 2017.It was awarded to Richthofen on January 12, 1917. It was Prussia’s highest Military award, and it was awarded to MvR for the successful confirmation of shooting down 16 enemy planes.

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dystini · 1 year ago

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Indycar Driver Lore

Indycar Driver Lore Masterlist

Jack Joseph Murray Harvey

Birthdate: April 15, 1993 Hometown: Bassingham, England Residence: Indianapolis Height/Weight: 5’10”/168lbs

Rookie Year: 2018

Team: Dale Coyne Racing

Follow him on: Instagram Twitter

Career Stats

2017 1 race w/ Michael Shank Racing w/Andretti Autosport, 2 races w/ Schmidt Peterson Motorsports - 28th Overall 2018 1 race w/ Michael Shank Racing w/ Schmidt Peterson Motorsports, 5 races w/Meyer Shank Racing w/Schmidt Peterson Motorsports - 24th Overall 2019 10 races w/Meyer Shank Racing w/Arrow Schmidt Peterson Motorsports - 21st Overall 2020 Meyer Shank Racing - 15th Overall 2021 Meyer Shank Racing - 13th Overall 2022 Rahal Letterman Lanigan Racing - 22nd Overall 2023 Rahal Letterman Lanigan Racing - 24th Overall (Fired with three races left)

A two-time INDY NXT by Firestone championship runner-up,

Has lived in both the United States and France but has remained grounded in his sense of home – the small village of Bassingham in Lincolnshire, England.

Among the drivers who have won on both the oval and road courses at Indianapolis Motor Speedway, with wins on both circuits in 2015 while racing in INDY NXT.

Has 10 racing championship wins in his career, including the British Formula 3 title in 2012.

enjoys baking, target shooting, watching Star Wars and Marvel movies and watching soccer and American football.

has been roped into collecting baseball cards and star wars trading cards

-big star wars fan

-bakes, and is known to make very good cookies

Iconic/memorable moments

Jack Harvey Takes Flight with Red Bull Air Race Pilot Kirby Chambliss 2022 PACE CAR LAPS // GRAHAM RAHAL AND JACK HARVEY Christmas Questions with GRAHAM RAHAL and JACK HARVEY! GRAHAM RAHAL and JACK HARVEY Answer Thanksgiving Questions! HONDA PACE CAR // HELIO CASTRONEVES AND JACK HARVEY TRACK WALK WITH JACK HARVEY // FIRESTONE GRAND PRIX OF ST. PETERSBURG Jack Harvey reflects on the time he lived in the IMS president's basement Jack Harvey Explains His Dislike For IndyCar Silly Season IndyCar Driver Jack Harvey Joins Us at Indy 500 Media Day Who is Jack Harvey? Motorsport101 Interviews… IndyCar's Jack Harvey! Indycar driver Jack Harvey trains at gym to be race ready Jack Harvey, Max Chilton, and Simon Pagenaud go skeet shooting Jack Harvey snatches last spot in the Indianapolis 500 from teammate | Motorsports on NBC Doug and Drivers: Jack Harvey Almost Didn't Want To Race in America IndyCar driver Jack Harvey shows off his RV at IMS You Don't Know Jack! Playlist Go BTS with Jack Harvey at our Hy-Vee Commercial Shoot! Colton Herta & Jack Harvey Are Pumped For "Kenobi" | Indy 500 Happy Hour

Sweet and kind, Jack often spends extra time interacting with fans at races. A huge Star Wars nerd, he was thrilled to meet Adam Driver when he was the honorary starter at the 2023 Indy 500. Jack loves baking, especially cookies.

Fanfic Lore

none

#indycar #indycar rpf #fanfic #driver lore #jack harvey

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slvrarrwswrites · 2 years ago

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We Said Friends Forever, But I Made Myself a Stranger

Rating: Teen Fandom: Formula 1 Individuals: Pierre Gasly, Charles Leclerc, Christian Horner, Max Verstappen Tags: alternate universe, angst, self-doubt/imposter syndrome, working too hard to escape your problems and as a form of self-punishment, somewhat self-destructive behavior, depression probably, 2019 F1 Season, 2020 F1 season, Piarles if you squint, mentions of covid quarantine Word Count: 11,672 Playlist: Spotify Summary: Pierre and Charles have been best friends for almost as long as either of them can remember, but as time goes on, Pierre feels them slipping further and further apart as Charles’ stars continue to rise as his own remains the same. Notes: This fic very loosely follows the early part of Charles' time with Ferrari but instead of being a Toro Rosso and Red Bull driver, Pierre is a sim and reserve driver for RBR.

At the end, there’s mentions of covid as it pertains to the 2020 season (delay to the start of the season, quarantine, mask wearing, no fans at races etc.), so just a heads up!

Read on Ao3 Instead

September 2019 Italian Grand Prix; Monza, Italy

Pierre watched from the crowded Monza pit lane as, for the second time in two races, Charles stood proudly on the middle step of the podium, his eyes shining brightly as he hoisted his first place trophy up in the air, the Tifosi in the stands screaming and setting off cans of red colored smoke in celebration, flags emblazoned with the prancing horse waving freely. His heart ached, the pride he felt for his best friend unable to outweigh the wish that he was the one up there celebrating, that he was the one Hamilton and Bottas were soaking with champagne. Instead, Pierre was the lone Red Bull employee standing behind a pack of Mercedes staff who were cheering for their drivers as they relished in the satisfying feeling of a job well done.

As the drivers traipsed off the podium and their assembled teams began to disperse, Pierre made his way back to the Red Bull garage, head down. He knew that some kind of lecture from Horner to the rest of the team was imminent, especially after such a mixed result, but being able to see his best friend celebrate a victory in person was more than worth it.

As a sim driver for Red Bull, Pierre spent most race weekends at the factory, where he tested various setups in various scenarios and relayed his feedback to the team, but it meant that he was rarely able to spend a weekend at the track. As such, he'd missed Charles' maiden victory, having watched the celebration from the race day command center with the other factory employees who provided support to the onsite staff. But despite the separation, as soon as the on screen celebrations had concluded, Pierre was on the first flight to Nice, not caring about the cost of the ticket or the cab ride to Charles' Monaco apartment where he waited patiently on the doorstep until his best friend returned.

The pair had celebrated into the early morning, finishing off the bottle of champagne Pierre had picked up at the airport and a bottle of wine from Charles' kitchen as they chatted about the race until the sun had risen, the light reflecting brightly off the water as they made their way to bed. It was only as Pierre was grabbing his stuff to drag into the guest room did Charles say the words that still echoed in Pierre's mind, haunting him weeks later. "It'll be you up there one day, Calamar."

Pierre and Charles had grown up together, two kids with bad haircuts and the same dream. Although they were fierce competitors on track, they were even better friends off it and they rose through the ranks together, trading wins in karting races, before making their way through F3 and F2 together, always by each other's side, always inseparable.

But, in 2017, things began to change. Charles got the call that he would be joining Sauber's F1 Team for the following year with the unspoken promise that if he performed well, one day he could find himself in one of the coveted Ferrari seats, the bright red iconic even to those who knew nothing about racing. For Pierre, his only chance to drive an F1 car came from his stint as a test driver during pre-season testing before heading off to Japan to compete in Super Formula.

However, even after a successful season in the lower category, the call that came wasn’t the one Pierre wanted. He did his best to hide his disappointment when Helmut had told him that there weren’t enough seats and Pierre would be sidelined yet again, and instead they wanted him to move to Milton Keynes to work as a sim driver. Despite being worried that the new role would be detrimental to his career long term, he accepted after a week of weighing the pros and cons, praying that a close connection to the F1 team would pay off in the long run.

By 2018, Charles had moved to a top team and was the rising star for Ferrari, their Il predestinato, bringing with it the promise of Ferrari's return to dominance after so many years spent behind Mercedes and Red Bull. And Pierre, well, it seemed like his dreams of even getting back on track were slipping away.

F1 celebrations were something Pierre hoped he never got used to, but he wouldn’t deny how awkward he’d felt arriving at the venue Charles had invited him to a few hours before. Ferrari’s staff and guests had taken over the VIP section of the club, the more secluded area somehow noisier than the crowded dance floor as the alcohol flowed freely. Winning was always fun, but winning at your home race with a promising young talent like Charles, who was poised to become the new face of Ferrari, meant the team was in high spirits and celebrating hard.

Charles had greeted Pierre loudly when he’d seen him, the young man extracting himself from a conversation with a small group to hug his best friend, a drunk Charles clinging tightly to Pierre as he chattered about how happy he was Pierre was there and how excited he was to celebrate together. But soon enough, Charles was swept away by members of his team who wanted to celebrate with their race winner and Pierre was left alone, watching from a distance.

Pierre left the club just after midnight, leaving behind a drunk Charles who was still surrounded by a handful of members of his team and an assortment of admirers who were willing to do whatever it took to get close enough to bask in Charles’ aura. He opted to walk back to the hotel Red Bull were staying at instead of taking an Uber, the cool night air pushing away the last hazy remnants of a night of celebration. He hadn’t really partaken in the bottles of champagne and shots of various liquors that had been in steady supply that night and had remained fairly sober despite the fact that everyone around him was happy to drink in honor of Charles’ victory. As a result, his mind was clear as he walked through the quiet streets of Monza, the stillness of the night only interrupted by passing groups of people, their laughter fading away as Pierre continued through the city.

His room was quiet, lights from the street below softly illuminating the furniture, the faint light guiding Pierre as he made his way over to the bed, the Frenchman not bothering to turn on the bedside lamp. He was exhausted, but knew with how his mind was racing that sleep was going to evade him again. It had felt good to celebrate with his friend, but the selfish part of him had wished that Charles had finished in any place other than first. The fact that it was Charles’ second win, one of many that was expected to come, meant that the veneer of winning hadn’t worn off just yet; couple that with the fact that it was his second win in two races and that it was Ferrari’s home race meant that the post-race celebration was wilder that usual, even by F1 standards.

The rational part of Pierre’s mind knew that Charles deserved this, that Charles deserved everything, but to witness his best friend accomplishing everything they’d ever dreamed of first hand made Pierre’s heart ache with a jealousy that had no place in the midst of such a joyous occasion. But jealousy was a nasty thing and instead of continuing the celebration into the early morning, Pierre was sitting at the edge of his bed, head in his hands, once again lost in thoughts of what could have been.

Twenty-three wasn’t old by any means, but with every passing season, the chances of Pierre getting a chance at an F1 drive were getting slimmer and slimmer. Rookies were getting younger every year, teams were putting their faith in younger drivers thanks to the success of drivers like Max and Charles, and Pierre knew that there was a promising group of Red Bull Academy drivers who were gunning for the same seat Pierre sought. His chances at a seat with another team were even slimmer, most had their own driver academies and even if a seat became available, it was doubtful any team would take their chance on an unproven talent without serious scrutiny.

Pierre told himself that he just needed to keep working hard, needed to prove his worth and that eventually an opportunity would come. But late at night, when self-doubt had firmly settled into the furthest corners of Pierre’s mind, he knew that he wasn’t good enough for Red Bull, he wasn’t good enough for Formula 1.

He wasn’t good enough for Charles.

And here, alone in a hotel room in Milan with the weight of his dream threatening to tear him apart from the inside, he wondered whether it was time to find something else.

The rest of the season continued to pass with little deviation from Pierre’s regular routine. Races came and went with him doing whatever he could from behind the scenes to help the team be successful, but as it became clearer and clearer that there was little hope for Red Bull to catch Ferrari in the Constructors Championship, he spent less time testing various setups for Max and Alex to use during race weekends and switched his focus to testing concepts for next season’s car.

Long hours in the simulator left Pierre exhausted. Sim work wasn’t nearly as exhilarating as throwing a real car around tight corners or sending the car hurtling down impossibly long straights despite the ever evolving technology that made the experience more and more realistic and the nature of the work meant he went through more set up changes in a few hours than any driver experienced during a weekend, leaving him mentally drained by the time he left the factory for his Milton Keynes flat.

With every passing day, the self-doubt that had intensified after Monza threatened to consume him and the rare compliment from Christian or Max’s praise for his work during meetings did little to reassure him that he did belong here, that he was worthy of some kind of role within the team, even if it wasn’t the one, he so desperately wanted.

Subconsciously, he began to withdraw, throwing himself into work, into doing whatever he could to prove his worth. Weekdays were spent working to get everything perfect, running scenarios over and over again until he was able to pull whatever he could from the car, while off weekends found Pierre in the gym or running along Caldecotte Lake until his lungs burned and his muscles felt like jelly. By night, he was too tired to do anything more than throw together a quick dinner before collapsing in bed with exhaustion, only to wake up and do it all again.

His mother expressed concern one day over the phone, mentioning to Pierre that one of his brothers had told her that he hadn’t reached out lately, unusual for Pierre as his family was the most important thing, but he brushed her off, using the excuse that he was being worked harder than ever (true) and once the season was over, he’d have a chance to take a break (half true). The excuse had worked for now and she’d bid Pierre good bye with a plea that he not work himself too hard and he agreed with no intention to keep his promise.

Texts from Charles went mostly unanswered, his best friend sending him photos from various circuits or funny memes that encapsulated their relationship perfectly. In return, Pierre only responded when necessary to ensure that Charles wouldn’t get suspicious and ask if something was up; Pierre had always been a bad liar, especially when it came to Charles, so it was easier to pretend like everything was fine when in reality, for the first time, Pierre just wanted Charles to leave him alone.

Maintaining the charade was easier than it should have been, the success Charles had had all year continuing as the season began to wind down, making him a hotter and hotter commodity with little time for his mostly anonymous best friend. While Charles was out basking in the glory of success with one of the top teams in Formula 1, Pierre was struggling to not drown in his own self-doubt and while his motives for keeping Charles at arm’s length were selfish, he also didn’t want to bring down his best friend when he was deservedly relishing in everything life had to offer.

But despite how well Pierre was able to keep his issues under wraps, it all threatened to fall apart at the last race of the season. Aside from the usual race weekend prep work, there was little that needed to be done that couldn’t be pushed back until after the season’s end, which meant that as soon as the week was over, Pierre was on a flight to Abu Dhabi. There was little at stake that weekend, Mercedes had taken both the Drivers and Constructors Championship a few races before and so long as Max finished ahead of Charles in the race, he’d be guaranteed 3rd place in the Drivers’ standings, achieving his best finish of his career. Things had been so bad lately that Pierre had considered skipping the last race all together, but despite all his personal problems, he was still a racecar driver at heart and didn't want to pass up the opportunity to watch the race from the garage.

It was hard to quiet the voice in the back of his head that whispered that this might be his last race as an F1 employee. The team was happy with his work and even if it were a mere facsimile of what he wanted to be doing, he was still a valuable resource that wasn't easily replaced. Rationally he knew that there was little chance he’d be let go at the end of the season, but even the most straightforward logic was no match against one’s own self-doubt, and Pierre rationalized his thinking by convincing himself that being surprised was better than hoping for something and ending up disappointed.

December 2019 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix; Yas Island, Abu Dhabi

Pierre arrived late enough in the evening that all there was time for was a quick check in with Christian before heading up to his room. Max had sent him a message asking him if he wanted to play FIFA when he got in, but Pierre had declined, giving the excuse that he didn’t want to disrupt Max’s pre-race routine despite knowing that Max didn’t strictly prescribe to such measures like most of the other drivers. For the same reasons, Pierre didn’t bother to text Charles to let him know that he was also in Abu Dhabi, knowing that his own presence would probably be a distraction. There would be plenty of time after the race for them to catch up.

The lead up to lights out was uneventful for Pierre, who spent most of the afternoon chatting with Alex and Max during their downtime between meetings and press obligations before they had to retreat to get ready for the race.

The race itself was fairly uneventful, but there was a buzz in the garage after the podium ceremony, the energy distinctly distinguishable from the normal post race chatter. Max’s second place finish secured his third place finish in the Driver’s standings, the highest finish for a Red Bull driver since Daniel three seasons prior. That success coupled with the relief that the long season was finally over was palpable as the mechanics and pit crew chatted about their off seasons plans as they packed up the garage.

Once the last of the post race photos had been taken, Pierre made his way back to Red Bull Energy Station, weaving his way around various members of the paddock and carts of equipment, not in any hurry to get out of there and end up in the post race traffic that flooded the area as fans made their way away from the circuit. On a normal day, most of the crowds and cars would have dissipated by the time Pierre was ready to leave, the lengthy post race debriefs every team conducted ensuring that even the most dedicated fans would have made their way home by the time their favorite drivers left. But today, there was little need for such a meeting, not when it was the end of the season and the new year would bring a new car and new challenges. No, instead, Pierre was all but dragging his feet not wanting to be alone with his thoughts.

He almost didn’t hear the shouting of his name until he was almost to the glass doors that were the only thing separating him from the chaos of the paddock and temporary salvation. “Pierre, wait!”

A hand closed around his elbow and he looked up to see Charles standing next to him, face still sticky with champagne from the podium celebration, red race suit mostly unzipped, the upper half hanging off his body, the only salvation he could find in the hot Abu Dhabi air.

Charles looked as exhausted as Pierre felt, but there was a relaxed look of satisfaction on his face. Pierre knew that he wasn’t satisfied knowing that third place in the standings had been in his grasp, he also knew that Charles could also see the big picture and would find his overall result at the end of the season a kind of victory itself. He’d proven that his promotion to Ferrari wasn’t premature and that he deserved to represent the future of the team.

“I didn’t know that you would be here this weekend,” he said, voice louder than usual as to be heard over the elevated noise of the paddock.

“I got in last night,” Pierre shrugged, glancing at Charles’ hand that was still wrapped around his elbow.

Charles let him go, frowning now, a look of hurt flashing in his eyes.

Normally the wounded look would have made Pierre’s heart lurch, he hated hurting Charles, his best friend had experienced too much pain for someone his age that he never wanted to be the one to ever add to Charles’ burden in anyway, but after the year he’d had, Pierre was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep for the next week, even if it meant ditching his best friend.

“But you didn’t say anything,” Charles repeated earnestly, as if wanting to believe that Pierre wouldn’t have intentionally left him in the dark, not when it had been months since they’d seen each other and even longer since they’d had a proper conversation.

“I’m here for the team,” Pierre shrugged, for Max and Alex, hanging unsaid in the air between them and Charles took a step back, the look of hurt now reflected on his face, no longer fleeting but permanent.

Pierre knew that the rivalry between Charles and Max had fizzled out a long time ago, that the intense hatred that they felt for each other as kids, as rivals going head-to-head in go karts had turned into mutual respect as they had grown and matured as both drivers and people. But at the same time, hearing that your best friend had chosen someone other than you still stung and upon hearing this, Charles looked away, his hand nervously running through his hair.

Despite everything, Pierre still wasn’t that cruel and even in his exhausted state he didn’t want to permanently damage his relationship with Charles even if, in the moment, it would have given him some satisfaction to hurt Charles, to make him feel the pain that Pierre had been carrying around with him for months. But logic won out and he did his best to bury the feelings of inadequacy that had been plaguing him, instead, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t Charles’ fault that Pierre felt like a failure.

“I was going to text you after the race.” A lie, but not one so outrageous that would give Charles a reason to doubt him. His mother always told him that he had an honest face; maybe it was the product of being the youngest, the baby of the family, or maybe it was part of the endless optimism he used to have— a quality that he seems to have lost as he’d grown older, more jaded. “You wouldn’t have been able to see me until later anyway.”

That part was true. Between final strategy meetings, race prep, and the chaos of it being the last race of the season, coupled with the fact that Charles still had his final place in the standings to fight for, there was no way the two of them would have been able to spend any significant amount of time together; and even if they could, there’s no way either of their teams would have appreciated them hanging out, not with Charles and Max being so close in the championship.

Charles nodded, the look of hurt still on his face, but seemingly willing to accept Pierre’s excuse. “We must go out then,” he said, stepping back to make his leave. “Later of course.”

“Of course,” Pierre echoed despite the bone deep exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders. There was the end of season party that Red Bull would be hosting too, but that would be so busy that he’d only need to make an appearance if he wanted to; be seen by all the right people before sneaking off to crash in his hotel room for a few hours before flying back to the UK. Most of the Red Bull staff would be so drunk that it really didn’t matter if he was there or not. He could sleep on the plane, use the time between Christmas and the new year to catch up on all the rest he’d missed out on over the last few months. He wouldn’t have much to do then, it would just be him alone with his thoughts.

Despite the bitterness and jealousy that had made a home in Pierre’s chest, Charles was still his best friend and he missed him. Missed the ease that came with knowing someone better than you knew yourself, the ease of being able to talk about anything or to sit in silence, both equally as comfortable. He missed the feeling of being known, of being understood, of being loved and appreciated unconditionally knowing that he didn’t need to keep proving over and over that he was worthy of that love and appreciation. But most of all, Pierre missed the silence that came with being with someone who knew you as well as Pierre and Charles knew each other. The thoughts of self-doubt, of uncertainty, it all went away when they were together because none of that was important so long as they were friends. Pierre wanted that feeling back, he just wasn’t sure if he was worthy of it.

“Dinner?” Charles suggested, briefly glancing over his shoulder at the chaos of the paddock behind him. He’ll be all but required to meet up with the rest of the team later to celebrate the end of the season; Pierre could come along if he wanted, but they both knew that he shouldn't if he wanted to remain in Horner and Marko's good graces.

Pierre nodded. “And drinks.”

Charles scoffed. “But of course, mate. That is a given.”

A genuine smile tugged at the corners of Pierre’s lips, the first in who knows how long, and the sensation made his cheeks burn at the exertion. “Text me when you’re finished.” He gestured generally at the paddock around them knowing that even though the season was now over, Charles probably had a million and one things to do before he left the track.

“Of course,” Charles repeated with a grin of his own before heading back toward the Ferrari motorhome.

Late December 2019 Red Bull Racing HQ; Milton Keynes, UK

Pierre was no stranger to Horner's office; he'd spent many days sitting in the brightly lit room with its big windows and photos of historic Red Bull moments hanging from the walls. The man behind the desk didn't have a commanding presence when you first looked at him, but looks were deceiving and in Pierre's experience, it never did anyone well to underestimate Christian Horner. He wasn’t as scary as dealing with a post race phone call from Helmut, Horner dealt with drivers on too regular of a basis to ever be an effective boss with such a domineering personality, but that didn’t mean he was a pushover. Not in the slightest.

No, this man could make or break Pierre’s career and he knew better than to cross him.

"We've been looking at the data," Horner began, sliding a tablet across his desk for Pierre to look at. Displayed on the screen was telemetry data that compared his sim times with the actual times of the two Toro Rosso drivers. He flipped through the graphs as Horner continued, "and you've done an excellent job in the sim, we'd like to give you the chance to prove yourself."

Pierre's head shot up, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but Horner said nothing, instead watching Pierre with that intense look, his hands folded neatly in front of him. Once he was sure he had Pierre's undecided attention, he continued. “A spot has opened up, and as part of Toro Rosso’s rebrand into Alpha Tauri, and we want to promote you into that seat.”

Horner was smiling at him as Pierre hesitated, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was the end of December and all of the driver lineups had been confirmed for months at this point, including Red Bull and the newly named AlphaTauri. Objectively, Pierre knew that there probably wasn’t anyone as qualified as he to fill in the role on short notice; as far as he knew, none of the rookie drivers had enough license points to qualify and none had logged nearly as many hours in the sim as he had, but that didn’t explain why a seat was suddenly open and who he’d be replacing.

When neither of them spoke, Pierre half shocked into silence, half waiting for further explanation, he finally said, “You’re joking. You’re pulling my leg.”

His reaction made Horner laugh, but even with the ease that his boss was demonstrating, Pierre was still on edge, not sure what to expect or how to respond. Recognizing that Pierre was in a state of disbelief, Horner opened a drawer and pulled out a file folder and set it on the desk in front of Pierre. "This is the initial offer, take it to your team and we can schedule a date to discuss the full terms and details. Welcome to Formula 1, Pierre."

Pierre took the folder, not daring to open it just yet, his grip so tight on the shiny Red Bull Racing folder that he was probably creasing the pages within, his fingerprints smudging the otherwise pristine navy-blue surface. “Was there anything else that you wanted to discuss?” he asked, still not believing what was happening, certain that there were other reasons why he had been summoned to Horner’s office.

But in response, his boss shook his head, a knowing smile on his face, the look of a man who had given the same news to several drivers before Pierre and knew that sometimes it took some time to sink in. “Go home and take the rest of the year off, Pierre. Call your family, get spectacularly drunk, do whatever it is you want to do to celebrate. Come back in the new year ready to work.”

He nodded and stood, Horner following suit and offering Pierre his hand in congratulations, which Pierre shook, still a little dazed by the news. “We’ll set up a meeting for you to meet with Franz and the two of you can make plans for you to meet the rest of the team.”

Nodding again, he cleared his throat, not quite trusting his voice, but pressed on. “Thank you so much, this is a dream come true.”

Horner smiled, not quite as unnerving as Marko’s, but there was still something behind it, something shark-like that even after all this time as part of the Red Bull program, Pierre wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Enjoy your holiday, Pierre.”

He waited until the lead up to Christmas to tell his family, he and his brothers and their families all crammed under his parent’s roof to celebrate the holiday, accidentally elbowing each other at the dinner table, his youngest nephew screaming with delight at something only he could comprehend.

His family had been elated at the news, all of them jockeying to try and hug him, maneuvering around the dining room table difficult with so many people, their voices growing louder and louder as they all tried to make their congratulations heard. Some of his younger niblings didn’t quite understand what was going on, but they cheered and screamed too, wanting to be part of the celebrations, their shrill voices rising above everything else.

The reaction of his family made everything feel real, like the volume of the rest of the world had been on mute while Pierre glided through it, unsure of where he was or what he was doing; but now, now it was like the knob had been turned up to eleven, the joy and praise of the people he loved most, of the people who would love him unconditionally breaking through the fog that he’d been lost in for the last several months. His family who had given everything up for him to chase this dream, the ones who would cheer him on on victory and would console him in defeat and yet would love the all the same no matter where he finished, these were the people he raced for.

His dad joked that Pierre better get him and his mom paddock passes for his first race, his brother teasing him, asking Pierre if he’d be able to steal the keys to his new F1 car to take it for a spin, fully knowing that formula cars didn’t use keys. Across the table, one of his sister-in-law’s and his mother were asking another of Pierre’s brother’s about AlphaTauri, how well they did last season and how well they could expect Pierre to do in the car they’d developed.

It was overwhelming, their reaction, and for as much as he loved them, for as much as he wanted to celebrate this accomplishment with them, the people who had seen how hard he’d worked, who’d seen where he came from and where he was going, but looking at the table at all of them, there was still something that had settled in Pierre’s chest long ago that even all the love and support of his family couldn’t quite shake it. As much as he wanted to relish in their praise, to selfishly be the center of attention even if just for a night, what he wanted more was to make his escape to his old room and curl up in the small twin bed he’d long outgrown, seeking out the silence and the loneliness that he’d grown accustomed to.

When things had settled down and dinner had been consumed, he helped his mother clear the table and clean up the kitchen as his brothers and their families went into the family room, using the time to get the kids settled, the anticipation of opening presents was so exciting that it threatened to overwhelm them and evolve into a full-on meltdown if not handled properly. As he diligently scraped the plates clean and arranged them neatly in the dishwasher, his mother paused to look at him.

“What did Charles say when you told him? He must have been elated.”

Pierre looked down at the plate in his hands under the guise of continuing to clean as to avoid his mother’s eyes. Charles had been the second person he’d wanted to tell as soon as he’d gotten out of sight of Horner’s office, the first being his parents, but he’d waited, rationalizing that it would be better to break the news in person. Waiting the extra week plus to see the pride and excitement his parents and the rest of his family had been more than worth it and, in his mind, he rationalized that waiting to tell Charles would be the same.

Continuing to look down, he told his mother this, missing the sad but knowing smile she gave him.

Charles had mentioned hanging out during the winter break before things got too busy with car launches and testing, the time between the end of the season and the start of the next getting shorter and shorter as more and more races were added to the calendar. He had initially mentioned the time between Christmas and New Year’s when things were as busy; most of the factory staff was taking a much needed break before the ramp up to the new season and the drivers were scattered to the four corners of the earth, some at home, some with family, some on vacation relaxing before they were expected to get back into the car and do it all over again.

Except there was no all over again for Pierre. It was going to be a brand new experience and he was equal parts excited and terrified that he’d mess everything up. When he took to the track in Barcelona in a couple months, it wouldn’t be his first time in an F1 car, but he knew that this was his chance to prove himself, to prove to Red Bull, the people in the paddock and to the fans that he belonged in F1. He knew that Red Bull could be a little ruthless with it came to drivers, even in a sport as competitive as F1, the organization had a reputation for tossing drivers aside when it looked like they weren’t getting up to speed quickly enough, and he was determined that he wasn’t going to be another driver who was talented, but not talented enough for F1. No, once he got that seat, he was going to keep it.

With that in mind, he threw everything he had into prepping for the new season. He studied track layouts until they were committed to memory, practicing every track on next year’s calendar on his home sim until he could drive them with his eyes closed, his dreams filled with visions speeding down the main straight at Paul Ricard, the home crowd cheering for him, distinguishable even over the sound of the engine. He worked out even more than he did before, now under the careful eye of a performance coach, his shoulders getting broader, arms thicker with corded muscle.

He pushed himself more than he had before, but instead of spending countless hours at the factory testing setups and running simulated runs for the benefit of other drivers, he was doing it for himself, ensuring that when the season started, he would be ready for anything.

But with all this extra work, it meant that he didn’t have time to hang out with Charles. This season's other new drivers, Pierre’s former friend turned rival Esteban Ocon returning after a season without a seat, and newcomer Nicholas Latifi had a head start of several months to prepare for the upcoming season while Pierre was stuck playing catch up. Every time that Charles texted, asking if Pierre could fly out to Monaco to escape the rain and fog of the UK in favor of a slightly warmer climate and the weak winter Mediterranean sun— even if just for a weekend— Pierre always declined, worried that a day he wasn’t working on racing would be a day he’d fall even further behind.

Pierre hated to blow off one of his best friends like this, and he suspected that now that Charles wasn’t dealing with sponsors and flying off the new countries several times a month, he was starting to catch on that Pierre was disengaged from their friendship, but even the knowing that his friend was no longer buying his excuses, Pierre was still making them. He rationalized his behavior by telling himself that they’d have more time to catch up this season when they be at the same place almost every weekend, but the voice inside his head kept telling him that if he kept blowing Charles off like this, he might not have a friend to hang out with come the start of the season.

All of this could be avoided if Pierre were honest and told Charles why he was busy, but for some reason, he hadn’t yet told him about his promotion to F1. Rationally, he knew that he should tell him sooner rather than later; AlphaTauri and Red Bull had yet to announce anything and as far as the press were concerned, AlphaTauri’s line up was still the same one that was announced part way through last season. There was no reason not to tell Charles, the deal was already complete, modifications to the original offer had only taken a few days to negotiate and the ink on the contract had been dry before the holidays. Pierre knew that his best friend wouldn’t have wanted to hear it from anyone but him, but there was something about admitting it before it was announced, like there was the possibility that it could all be taken away before it was put into the world.

Telling his family had been one thing, but telling someone who knew you better than you knew yourself? Telling someone with whom you’d shared your hopes and dreams with since you were small children? For some reason that was far scarier.

His introduction as one of the drivers for the newly branded AlphaTauri had been announced at the launch of the new car, the press immediately running to be the first tweet out the news, journalist speculation fueling fan theories as to why things had changed in a matter of months. Immediately after the brand new white and navy livery was revealed, the press was all over him, asking questions about the upcoming season, looking for any clue as to why he would be in the car instead of who the team had originally announced.

Pierre wasn't used to the media wanting to talk to him. Sure, he'd given an interview here or there after winning the GP2 championship, had appeared once or twice on the French broadcast to promote the team and talk about the drivers, but other than those short stints, no one really cared about the mostly anonymous driver who had been sidelined for the last few seasons. The experience was overwhelming, the crowd of reporters jockeying for position as they swarmed him, the number of people and cameras so packed together that he couldn't see the room beyond.

He gave prepared, measured answers, careful to not reveal more than what the team wanted him to say, the media strategy having been carefully crafted by the team of PR specialists that Pierre had never needed to interact with until now. Daniil had been helpful, they had similar senses of humor and used it to their advantage, much to the amusement of the various journalists who were covering the event, but even their improv and off the cuff statements didn’t give away too much.

After what seemed like an eternity later, Pierre was free, the weight on his chest finally lifting as he escaped to the green room, finally able to change out of his race suit, the methodical, familiar motion of separating the Velcro at his neck then pulling the zipper down until he could shuck off the fabric was a comforting feeling that he hadn’t realized he’d missed until now. It wasn’t the same as peeling out of the suit like it was a second skin, the light fabric drenched in sweat after a good, hard race, but that was coming, all Pierre had to do was be patient.

There was a short media debrief that he needed to attend before he could head home and take care of the mass of notifications that no doubt had flooded his phone over the course of the last several hours, but first he wanted to post something to social media, his official announcement to the fans who had stuck by him as he’d waited for this opportunity. The dizzying number of WhatsApp messages, texts, and Twitter notifications coupled with a handful of missed calls and voicemails were all ignored as he opened up Instagram.

“FORMULA 1!!!!!!!” he typed out quickly, a photo of him standing proudly next to the new AT01 having been sent to him by someone from the PR team specifically for this purpose. “So excited to represent @AlphaTauriF1 this season! Thank you to the team and to @RedBullRacing for making a dream come true! #LetsGetToWork”

It was a pretty standard post as far as announcements went, it didn’t express even a fraction of how excited and nervous he was, but even if he had thousands of words to convey how he was feeling, he’d never be able to put into words the elation at finally achieving he’d been working toward for most of his life.

He sighed, remembering that this hadn’t been just his dream and that Formula 1 had been a dream he’d shared with others, including Charles with whom he still hadn’t told about his promotion. The guilty side of him wanted to wait until after the debrief, until after he’d gotten home and eaten to give him the chance to soak it all in, but that was a lie.

Pierre was still hiding from Charles, was still doing whatever he could to avoid him and had been doing so since Monza the previous year. The fact was that he’d been lying to himself for nearly half a year, pushing one of his best friends aside as he buried himself deeper and deeper into working, using his job and ambition as an excuse to avoid taking a step back and reflecting on how much he’d lost himself in the past year.

He was punishing himself, there was no denying it, but what was a little more pain at this point? He’d probably hurt Charles more than enough lately, so maybe he deserved it. The sooner confessed and let Charles be mad at him, the sooner he could apologize and beg Charles for forgiveness. His friend had a gentle heart and while mad, would probably forgive Pierre, but Pierre wasn’t sure if he deserved it.

Against his better judgment, he swiped down on his phone, scrolling through notifications until found what he was looking for.

Missed Call Calamar 🦑(5)

Pierre shook his head and swiped away the missed call notification. It was just like Charles to call him multiple times and not leave him a voicemail despite knowing that Pierre was probably talking to the media, but usually when Charles was excited or upset, logic often went out the window.

Knowing that there was no escaping it now, he switched over to his texts, ignoring the notifications with messages of congratulations from other drivers and colleagues, seeking out his thread with Charles.

From Calamar 🦑: ???????!!!!!!! From Calamar 🦑: What the fuck Pierre, I had to hear the news from Arthur???? From Calamar 🦑: How long have you been keeping this a secret??

His fingers hovered over the keys, not quite sure how he should respond. Pierre couldn’t deny that he’d been avoiding talking to Charles about anything, not just the fact that he’d be on the grid this upcoming season. He’d been relying on the fact that AlphaTauri had waited until just before the car launch to announce that there had been changes to their diver duo, not revealing who would be in the car until everything was announced, the new team, new branding, and new driver combining to hopefully be the most exciting reveal leading up to testing in a few weeks.

Theoretically, he could justify not telling Charles because he had been afraid that any leak would have jeopardized his seat. It seemed more often than not that the rumors that seemed to come out of the paddock were true— or at the very least, had some basis in fact— and Red Bull had wanted to avoid the PR disaster of having the fact that they had to replace one of the drivers on their junior team during the offseason.

Without racing as the focus, any minor scandal that occurred in the off season could have the potential to blow wildly out of proportion as journalists and fans have little to talk about or discuss, resulting in wild speculation fueled by conspiracy theories and the barest of facts to back up their claims.

While Pierre could make up such an excuse, doing so would mean telling Charles— albeit indirectly— that he hadn’t trusted him to keep his promotion a secret, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

The truth was Pierre hadn’t wanted to tell Charles. At first, he didn’t know how to, but then he came to the realization that the prospect of telling Charles about his promotion filled him with a dread that he couldn’t describe or pinpoint the reason behind. He wasn’t excited to tell him that the dream they had shared as kids was becoming a reality and it made him feel like a horrible person. Pierre knew he couldn’t tell Charles all of that without his best friend demanding they immediately meet face to face to work things out, so instead, he’d done what he’d gotten good at in the last year: throw himself into work to escape his problems.

Choosing on taking the cowards way out once again, Pierre fumbled to write a quick response, hoping that Charles was so happy for him that he didn’t dig too deep into Pierre’s reasoning.

To Calamar 🦑: I signed the contract a little over a month ago and have been drowning in pre-season prep ever since 🤣🤣🤣 To Calamar 🦑: I feel like I haven’t had any time to think let alone do anything else 🤪

It was a feeble excuse, although not entirely untrue, but it would have to do.

It was strange, facing the fact that you’d been running from something, but even with acknowledging that he wasn’t fine, it wasn’t something that Pierre wanted to examine too closely right now. He was on the verge of being able to call himself a Formula 1 driver, something that he’d been working toward since he was a kid, and he didn’t want to taint the memory of finally making it by spending too much time examining his behavior the past few months.

No, his dreams were finally starting to come true, and he knew that if he just waited a little longer, everything was going to be fine.

How could they not be?

February 2020 Testing; Barcelona, Spain

The bright Spanish sunshine did little to warm Pierre up as he jogged from the garage back to the joint Alpha Tauri/Red Bull hospitality building, the sleeves of his race suit swinging freely from his hips as the click of a camera’s shutter followed him as he exited the garage.

His first session in the car had gone better than expected with him ending up in the top five for the day— at one point even taking the fastest lap of the session— a feat he hadn’t expected when he got in the car that morning, but there was still work to be done. He’d spun early on, not quite to grips with being back in a racecar, but overall, the team had been pleased with what he had shown in the morning session and he was excited to get back out on track.

“Pierre!”

Max was heading toward him with his hand raised in greeting, dressed in his Red Bull polo, his racing gear not necessary today with Alex taking over driving duties for both sessions. He stopped, waiting for the other driver to catch up to him so they could walk inside the motorhome together, but Max didn’t seem to be in a rush to get inside just yet, choosing to lean against the railing that separated the hospitality building from the rest of the paddock despite the chill that hadn’t quite abated in the late afternoon sunshine.

“You looked good out there. How did it feel, being in the car for the first time?”

Pierre shrugged with a laugh, “I think my arms are going to fall off and my shoulders and neck are killing me.” Max joined in on the laughter as Pierre rolled his shoulders and neck with a grimace to emphasize his point, his muscles protesting at the movement, but for now it was the good kind of pain, the kind that hit you after a long workout. “All the working out I did over the break doesn’t seem to have helped me in any way.”

“It doesn’t matter how often you work out, I think,” Max explained. “You can do all the exercises in the world, but nothing compares to the actual G-Forces in the car and it takes actually driving to get used to it.”

Max trailed off and raised his hand high in greeting, focused on someone walking through the paddock. Pierre half expected it to be Daniel who was often by Max’s side during the weekend despite the pair no longer being teammates, but Pierre followed Max’s gaze and saw Charles leaving the Ferrari garage with Sebastian and several members of their team, his eyes locked on Pierre and Max not listening to what looked like a lively conversation between Sebastian and one of their mechanics. Pierre tried to work up the courage to call out to Charles, to do something familiar, but as soon as he realized Pierre was looking at him, Charles looked away and continued following his teammate into the Ferrari motorhome.

Guilt swirled in the pit of Pierre’s stomach, but he did his best to try and push it away. It was his fault that he and Charles weren’t talking, but he couldn’t worry about it now, he had a job to do.

Next to him, Max’s forehead furrowed in confusion, trying to take in what was happening. “What’s wrong with him? Is Ferrari’s car shit again?”

There were times, even after he’d known Max for as long as he had, that Pierre wasn’t sure if Max was joking or not. He wasn’t sure if it was a Dutch thing or a Max thing, but despite having a great sense of humor, his jokes and criticisms were often said in the same blunt tone and this was just another occasion where Pierre wasn’t sure if he should laugh, not that he was able to.

Charles hadn’t reached out after Pierre had texted him his excuse as to why he hadn’t told him that he’d been given a seat, and Pierre was beginning to suspect that Charles had started to put the pieces together and had realized that Pierre had been purposefully avoiding him.

He wanted nothing more than to have his best friend by his side, to be able to share this experience together, but Pierre was so deep in his self-loathing it consumed him, and at this point, he was more afraid of Charles' rejection than anything. He'd rather have his best friend mad at him than not be a passing thought in Charles' mind, so he kept to himself and didn't offer an explanation.

By the time Pierre was free to leave, the sun had set and a chill had settled over the shadowy paddock, the yellowish light coming from the lights mounted on the sides of the garages casting long shadows along the pavement. He shivered, wishing that he had his sweatshirt but it was probably stashed away somewhere in his driver’s room with Pyry who was waiting for him so they could drive back to the hotel and go over tomorrow’s schedule.

He started jogging in that direction, wanting to be out of the cold and hoping that by getting his blood flowing he could get some feeling back into his fingers, but as he rounded around a tire cart, he ran into someone, sending them both to the ground.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” a familiar voice said and Pierre looked up to see Charles pushing himself up off the ground, unaware of whom he’d just run into.

“I— yeah,” Pierre mumbled, wanting nothing more in that moment to disappear. Of all the people, it had to be Charles. He debated on not getting up, on staying on the ground, waiting to be swallowed up, but he couldn’t, so instead he sighed to himself and slowly got to his feet. He sensed rather than saw the moment Charles realized who he’d run into, his body stiffening as he recognized Pierre.

“Sorry,” was all Pierre could offer, still not looking at Charles, instead checking his hands for any scrapes or bruises, flexing his arms and rotating his wrists to see if he’d hurt anything as he’d fallen.

“So you do know how to apologize,” Charles said bitterly, his tone making Pierre look up at him in shock. “I’d thought you had forgotten.”

Pierre had dealt with a moody Charles before, knew that there were times that Charles could be petulant, more like a spoiled child than the twenty-something man he’d grown to be, but he had never been on the receiving end of his anger. And more than anything, he knew that this time Charles’ anger was justified, that he deserved Pierre dropping to his knees and groveling, begging for Charles’ forgiveness, but Pierre was too much of a coward to give him what he deserved.

Instead, he mumbled a quick “See you later, Charles,” and turned away, heading back toward the joint Red Bull/Alpha Tauri hospitality building, unable to see the anger and betrayal in Charles’ eyes any longer.

September 2020 Italian Grand Prix; Monza, Italy

Pierre was sticky with champagne, his race suit heavy, soaked with his sweat and the remainder of the podium celebration that he’d participated in from the top step mere minutes before. The crowd below in the pitlane had dispersed, mechanics going to pack up the garage— cargo needing to be shipped to the next track before they could head off and enjoy what little was left of their weekend— drivers having disappeared to clean up before having to endure yet another race debrief where every detail was picked over as the team of strategists and engineers tried to figure out where they could make up time, even a tenth of a second meaning the difference between a good result and a disastrous one.

He knew that he too would need to join them, to leave the podium behind, trophy in one hand, magnum bottle of champagne in the other, the black and gold hat crowning him the race winner fit snugly around his head, but he couldn't make himself do it, not yet. He needed a shower, needed to pluck off the confetti that clung to his clothing, needed to replace the mask that smelled like champagne and stuck to his face like a second skin, but he continued to sit, soaking it all in.

Footsteps approached him, probably someone from F1 or track management here to tell him that he needed to leave the podium and return to the team, but they didn’t. Whoever it was took a seat next to him on the top step and waited silently.

He looked up to see Charles, dressed in his Ferrari polo and a pair of jeans, looking at the empty grandstands and the main straight where a year ago fans cheered as he stood on this very step and hoisted his trophy high into the air, confetti raining down around him— the King of Monza, the Ferrari Prince, il Predestinato. There had been no cheering fans this time, not for Pierre, just what seemed like the entire paddock in the pitlane below, everyone seemingly excited for him and in many ways, Pierre preferred it that way. It was the people he worked with or alongside who knew what struggles he’d gone through while waiting in the wings, waiting for his chance to prove what he was made of, and it was those people who understood best what it meant to him. With no fans in attendance, he was able to relish the moment a little longer, able to soak it in and finally start letting go of all of the stress that had been weighing him down. He wouldn’t have any other way.

Part of him wondered what Charles was doing here next to him. They hadn’t spoken to each other that weekend and hadn’t been speaking much at all, not since their awkward encounter in Barcelona several months prior. Even when they had been forced to quarantine in their homes, when Pierre couldn’t go home to be with his family and was left alone in his small Bologna apartment they hadn’t bothered making up, both drivers stubbornly choosing silence in what had to be one of the most isolating times of their lives. Charles had filled up his time by streaming with some of the other drives, namely George, Alex, and Lando, the four of them forming a little F1 streaming gang while Pierre opted to keep his gaming away from the prying eyes of fans, only a few old friends and former GP2 rivals he was still close to as witnesses to his inability to pick up shooting games.

“I was cheering for you,” Charles said after a long stretch of silence, his voice barely audible over music blasting in one of the garages, loud enough to be audible from the podium platform. “Seb and I both asked to delay the briefing so we could watch you win.”

Sebastian was the only other winner in the Toro Rosso/Alpha Tauri team’s history, and like Pierre, he had claimed his first victory at Monza some twelve seasons earlier, back when Pierre and Charles were still in karts and could only dream about racing in Formula One. Pierre had looked up to Sebastian as a child, had watched him claim his four Championships and had dreamed of doing the same; maybe it was too early to hope to follow in his footsteps, to hope that his career could reach a fraction of the success Sebastian had achieved, but Pierre hadn’t gotten here by dreaming small.

But for now, it was enough to know that Sebastian had been rooting for him.

Guilt twinged Pierre’s stomach when he realized that he should be happy that Charles had been rooting for him to, that even after Pierre had pushed him away, Charles still cared enough to want Pierre to win, that he still wanted Pierre to fulfill their childhood dream, F1 Drivers, race winners, World Champions. Despite what countless people had told them, despite the kids at school that had bullied Pierre and had told him that he was wasting his time, that he wasn’t good enough, the two of them had managed the improbable and achieved the first two. They were here, together, both winners at Monza.

“You shouldn’t have,” Pierre said stubbornly, “I don’t deserve your support, not after everything.”

Charles huffed, “Yeah, maybe, but I did it anyway and you can’t do anything about it now.”

Pierre didn’t have a response to that, so he continued to sit in silence. He knew that if he didn’t take advantage of this, of the olive branch Charles was offering, then their friendship was probably as good as dead. But despite knowing that this was his last chance, there were so many things that he wanted to say that he didn’t know where to start; he was frozen, terrified of saying the wrong thing. So, he continued to sit there, soaking in the moment.

“I don’t understand, why didn’t you tell me you’d been offered a seat?” Charles said, breaking the silence again.

Pierre had asked himself this same question countless times over the past few months, particularly on the nights he had been alone and unable to fall asleep, his only company being the thoughts that still swirled around in his head, the ones that hadn’t been silenced when he had finally achieved his lifelong dream.

“I—” Pierre hesitated and licked his lips, not sure where to start, but where was a better place and the beginning? “Last year,” he said finally. “You won here, do you remember?”

Charles looked at him, confused, and Pierre continued. Of course, Charles remembered winning at Monza, they both did. “I stood in the pit lane, watching you get your trophy.” He gestured to the long straight below them, remembering what it had been like to look up Charles, to see the red, white, and green confetti raining from the sky as the loyal Ferrari fans sang along as the Italian anthem played, flags waving widely as the sea of supporters cheered for Charles, their future champion.

“I was jealous.”

There were a million words that he could say, countless ways to explain why he had acted the way he had, but when it came down to it, the root of why he had distanced himself from Charles was because he had been jealous.

Jealous that his best friend had achieved his dream of racing in F1 and that he had found success, that he had made it to a top team that believed him, who was willing to favor him over a proven race winner and champion, that he had not only made it, but that it was more than possible that he could add his name and signature to the Championship Trophy, that his legacy would be cemented alongside the greats of the sport.

“Watching you up here, lifting up the trophy above your head. I wanted that for myself.” Pierre looked down at his feet, knowing how selfish it sounded, but if he wanted things with Charles to return to some kind of normal, he needed to be honest, needed to be willing to have the difficult conversation that he’d been avoiding for a year. If Charles still hated him after Pierre bared his soul, then so be it, but now that they were here, he wasn’t going to allow himself to leave the podium without knowing one way or another.

“I was happy for you too, of course, and I hated myself for being jealous because you deserve all the success in the world.”

Pierre felt fingers wrap around his wrist and he looked up to see Charles watching him, eyes wide with concern. Knowing that maybe, just maybe Charles didn’t hate him gave Pierre the courage to keep going.

“I guess it probably started before Monza, jealousy doesn’t come out of nowhere, no? But that weekend was when I first realized. I went home after and didn’t want to feel anything. I kept pushing myself, working longer hours, doing more at the factory because I didn’t want to be alone, or have enough time to stop and think about how miserable I was.

“I didn’t want to bother you with my problems because you were so happy, deservedly so, so I kept it to myself thinking that it would go away and I guess it never really did.”

“But we hung out in Abu Dhabi, you seemed okay then,” Charles frowned, brows furrowed in confusion. “A little tired maybe, but we all were.”

Pierre smiled ruefully and shook his head, remembering what had ended up being the last time he and Charles hung out together. There were times that night that he had been able to forget that it felt like he was drowning in his own emotions— and in those brief moments of respite, things with Charles had felt normal— but when the conversation lulled, and especially after the two had gone their separate ways at the end of the night, remembering the moments of peace made Pierre feel even worse. It was like he was punishing himself for his brief moments of happiness and whatever good feelings the night had left him with had quickly dissipated.

“I never thought I was that good of an actor,” he chuckled, “but maybe if racing doesn't work out, I should give that a try next, no? I never thought I was good at keeping secrets from you.”

Charles’s frown deepened. “Don’t joke like that.”

His tone surprised Pierre, who wasn’t used to Charles speaking with this much force. Charles was usually more easy going, assertive at times when he knew what he wanted, but never sharp, not even when he was angry; at times he could be petulant, more like the youngest sibling rather than the middle child that he was, but even with all their years of friendship, Pierre had never heard Charles sound so defiant.

“You belong here, with us,” Charles gestured aimlessly around them, at the podium, down toward the paddock below, then finally at the trophy still clutched in his hands, the twin of the one Charles had lifted high above his head the year before as Pierre had watched him, jealousy curling in the pit of his stomach as confetti rained down and the crowd cheered for their hero. “That is proof.

“You won a Formula 1 race, Pierre, only about a hundred people can say that they’ve achieved that in like 70 years of racing. No matter what happens after today, you’re a part of history and they can’t take that away from you. Our names are forever tied to this sport; we made it together, just like we planned. You deserve this, you earned this through hard work and determination and never giving up. I’m proud of you.”

The look on Charles’ face— the fierce determination in his eyes, the stubbornness of his pout— reminded Pierre of when they were kids, dreaming about making it to Formula 1, of the times they stayed up while on vacation together and dreamed about racing alongside each other. As they had grown older, those dreams never wavered. When Pierre had been told that he’d never amount to anything, that it would be better if he just gave up, Charles had reassured him that they were going to make it, they were going to be the ones who defied the odds.

And he had been right.

Despite setbacks and hardships, despite the timing not being quite right at first, they had made it. It may have taken Pierre a little longer than it had taken Charles, but they were here, together, competing at the highest level of motorsport just like they had dreamed.

Pierre didn’t have the words to express to Charles how much he meant to Pierre in that moment, how grateful he was for Charles’ unwavering support, even in the wake of Pierre’s treatment of him over the past year. He knew that he’d have to work to feel like he’d truly earned the forgiveness Charles had given him so easily, but the fear that Charles hated him was easing knowing that after everything, his best friend was still by his side.

“You’re beginning to sound a lot like Sebastian,” Pierre said instead of what he was feeling. “Rattling off all those statistics, I think he’s rubbed off on you.”

Charles scoffed, but the way his eyes lit up betrayed his attempt at looking annoyed; Pierre knew that Charles idolized Sebastian, and that any comparison would be taken as a compliment and that this time was no different. “Mate, come on. He makes fun of me for knowing nothing about this sport, but anything is nothing compared to him.”

Pierre laughed for what felt like the first time in ages, head tipping back as he felt his chest expanding— not just from the gasping breaths that he was taking as Charles grinned next to him, proud that the joke had landed— but from the weight of jealousy and bitterness that had made a home there in the past few months starting to melt away. He knew that things weren’t going to get better immediately, that winning a race and more importantly, the knowledge that Charles was right there fighting with him, for him wasn’t going to fix all his problems, but it was a light at the end of the tunnel, a lifeline that he could cling onto when things were rough and it was more than what he’d thought he’d had when he had felt so alone.

But the laughter, as good as it had felt, was short lived; Pierre’s mask was still soaked with champagne and the damp fabric was sticking to his face as he inhaled, making breathing more difficult.

“We should do something to celebrate,” he said, cheeks still wide with a smile. “Not go out obviously, but—”

“Dinner,” Charles said firmly, cutting him off. “We can order room service and catch up.” That determined look was back in Charles' eyes, and even if he had wanted to, there was no way Pierre could have said no to him. When Charles got his mind set on something, there was no convincing him otherwise.

“I’ll text you,” Pierre promised, standing from the podium, his trophy clutched in one hand, champagne in the other.

“Mate, you better, or else I’m going to come find you.”

Charles stood too and wrapped an arm around Pierre’s shoulders, hip checking him as the pair of them walked off the podium.

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