#and for what. i don't need to impress people with a title in front of my name

[poetka]

Realised my main motivation in life is that i want to have a good enough job to be able to live comfortably by myself

[abbotjack]

This City Doesn’t Forget (part three · impression management)

part one - part two

summary : Hospitals are full of ghosts. But the worst ones wear perfume and know your full name. What follows is a slow unraveling: whispers among staff, a curated “gift,” a rooftop encounter with Jack, and the quiet realization that the real threat isn’t scandal—it’s perception.

word count : 4,548

content warning: Emotional manipulation, gaslighting, covert workplace harassment, implied power imbalance, past infidelity, family tension, grief, trauma references (including pediatric death), subtle bullying and ostracization, emotionally intense dialogue, mentions of burnout and medical stress, allusions to PTSD, and ambiguous threats. Contains heavy themes of reputation, control, and the weaponization of grace.

a/n : I dedicate this to everyone whos been waiting for part three, deepest apologies.

TUESDAY

The hospital doesn't hum in the mornings so much as it breathes shallowly. Paper rustles. Shoes scuff. Machines beep in staggered time like a slow, mechanical heartbeat. And somewhere between the coffee pot in the lounge and the trauma board, your phone buzzes with a text that shifts the center of gravity under your feet.

URGENT: Compliance Office needs your signature on file. Sublevel 1. Ask for Jenna.

You stare at the screen a little too long. Your fingers are raw from double-gloving. There's a streak of dried something on your scrub top you can't identify, and you haven't eaten anything solid since a protein bar at 6 a.m.

Still, you go.

Because when you're a first-year resident and someone from Admin says "urgent," you don't ask questions. You obey.

The elevator ride feels longer than it should. Sublevel 1 is clinical in a different way than the trauma bay—quieter, unnerving in its civility. The air smells like toner, laminated badge sleeves, and lemon-scented floor polish that always feels slightly inappropriate in a place where so many people die upstairs.

You push open the door to the Compliance suite—and stop cold.

Charlotte Abbot is sitting at a table by the far wall.

The mother. The matriarch. The woman who once held your wrist too tightly at a holiday dinner and smiled with all her teeth while calling your thrifted dress "a brave choice."

Today, she's dressed in something pale and bone-colored that belongs in a luxury SUV ad. Her scarf is knotted with precision. A small gold pin gleams on her collarbone—medical caduceus, stylized and expensive. She looks like she came here to chair a foundation meeting, not ambush her son’s former mistake.

"Doctor [Y/L/N]," she says. Not Ms. Not you. Not even dear. The title slides out like she's trying it on.

Your first instinct is to flee.

Your second is worse: to apologize for something you haven't done yet. Instead, you nod. Not a bow. Not a smile. Just acknowledgment.

"I was told to meet Jenna," you say.

Charlotte gestures to the empty chair across from her. "Jenna's indisposed. I asked if I could borrow a moment of your time. Just a moment."

Her voice is low. Elegant. Practiced. A velvet rope across a locked door.

You don’t sit right away. There’s a French press and two cups on the table—one chipped at the rim, the other stained inside from something darker than coffee. Who the hell brews a full pot down on Sublevel 1? You glance around. No Jenna. No admin staff. No compliance officers lurking in the corners. Just silence and the slow drip of something that doesn't belong here.

Just her.

You sit.

"I'm sure your schedule’s relentless," she says, voice light but eyes tracking you too carefully. "I remember Jack’s intern year—he’d stumble through the front door looking half-dead, still in scrubs, sometimes with blood or charcoal stains on his sleeves. He’d sit down to eat and fall asleep with his fork halfway to his mouth. Hand would shake so bad he couldn’t get it to his plate without missing."

She laughs, like it’s endearing. Like Jack’s exhaustion was some charming, character-building footnote in his medical career. Like nodding off with a fork in his hand meant he was determined, not dangerously burned out. But you weren’t there for that part. Not really. Not when he came home wearing two uniforms at once—one stitched with rank, the other with a hospital badge. Not when the war hadn’t quite let go of him yet, and residency piled on top like a dare. Still, you can picture it. The tremor in his hand that no amount of caffeine could explain. The way a dropped tray probably made him flinch before his brain could remind him he was safe. The tightness in his jaw that didn’t come from stress, but from memory—old, buried, clawing its way back through fluorescent lights and sterile hallways.

You stay silent. Because even if you weren’t there, you know enough to recognize the ghosts.

"It's impressive," she continues, pouring into your cup without asking. "Emergency medicine. That's a battlefield discipline. You always struck me as more of a philosopher."

"I don't remember us talking much."

Charlotte smiles. "No. You were always in the kitchen with the boys. Laughing too loud. Taking up too much space."

There it is.

You wrap your fingers around the cup. It's porcelain. Bone white. The handle too small for a comfortable grip. Made to look delicate even when it's boiling.

"I wanted to speak before the year progresses," she says. "Before people get attached. Or ideas get… cemented."

You raise an eyebrow. "Ideas?"

Charlotte folds her hands. "About what your presence here might mean."

You hold her gaze. "What does it mean?"

"That depends on you."

She pulls a folder from her bag. Cream linen. Gold-trimmed. Heavy paper.

You already know what's inside before she opens it.

"There are other options," she says. "Other programs. Less crowded. Less emotionally… volatile. One of our family donors is on the board at Wake Forest. They’re looking for someone like you. Quiet. Capable. Willing to start fresh."

You don’t touch the folder.

Charlotte sighs.

"Jack is… loyal to a fault," she says. "He carries things long after they’ve stopped serving him. Pain. People. Promises. He’s never learned to distinguish between guilt and love."

You feel something twist in your stomach.

“What happened that summer was… regrettable,” she says, each word carefully chosen, lacquered in control like she’s rehearsed this line a hundred times. “You were young. My other son made foolish choices.” She doesn’t say his name. Doesn’t have to. “But Jack—Jack almost didn’t come back.” Her tone falters just enough to make you notice, but not enough to admit guilt. She lifts her cup, taps her nail against the rim—once, twice—before continuing. “He wrote me from overseas. Said he couldn’t sleep. Said every time he closed his eyes, all he could see were porch lights humming in the dark and knees scraped open on the pavement. He didn’t say your name, but I knew.” Her eyes flick to yours. “He said he felt failure. Like he’d left something bleeding and didn’t know how to stop it. Like no matter how many wounds he patched over there, it didn’t matter, because he hadn’t fixed that one.”

She lets the silence breathe. Lets it grow.

"I won't let him do that again."

You blink. “Do what?”

"Lose himself," she says.

You take a sip of the coffee. It’s not what you expect—light, almost delicate, with some floral note clinging to the edge like perfume on a collar. Not the kind of coffee brewed for comfort or caffeine, but for image. It tastes like someone tried to soften it on purpose, like bitterness was something to be ashamed of. Like someone poured rosewater over something burned and hoped you wouldn’t notice. It tastes like curated grace. Like someone trying to dress a wound in lace and call it closure.

“Are you in on this with him?” you ask. No soft lead-in. No mask of civility. Just truth, raw and bleeding.

Charlotte doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. She picks up her coffee, takes a sip, and sets it down on its delicate saucer like she’s discussing dinner plans—not the fact that her son cornered you in a garage with a decade old photograph.

“I assume you’re referring to my youngest,” she says, tone light, almost bored. “The one you left.”

“I didn’t leave him,” you say, jaw tight. “He cheated on me. He lied. And the second he told me, I ended it.”

“I was wondering how long it would take you to bring the photo up,” she says smoothly, like she’s been waiting for this moment since you walked in.

Your throat constricts.

“You were heartbroken,” she says, like she’s narrating a memory that belongs to her. “And Jack has always had a weakness for things he thinks he can fix.”

Your pulse hammers in your ears. “He didn’t try to fix anything. He listened. He sat with me. I was the one who—”

Charlotte raises a hand gently, silencing you without needing volume. “I’m not interested in the choreography. It’s a mother’s job to notice patterns. That summer—you and Jack thought you were discreet, didn’t you? The long nights. The mornings he didn’t come home. The way you stopped flinching when his name came up. You were both too careful. And not careful enough.”

Your stomach twists. “You knew.”

“I suspected,” Charlotte says. “Then I watched. Jack is many things, but subtle has never been one of them.”

You force your voice steady. “And your other son? He took a photo. He followed me. Cornered me in a garage.”

She doesn’t react. No flicker of surprise. No maternal concern. Just a slow inhale.

“He’s angry,” she says. “And embarrassed. You made him look like a fool. And Jack let it happen.”

“He cheated on me,” you snap. “I left him. Jack didn’t steal me—I wasn’t his to keep.”

Charlotte leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, the picture of composure. “Be that as it may, the story isn’t about what really happened. It’s about what people think they saw.”

She taps one manicured finger against the rim of her cup.

“The image that remains—the one on that porch—isn’t of a woman scorned. It’s of a woman with her ex’s brother, legs around his waist, dress pushed up, eyes closed. You know what that looks like to everyone else? A scandal. A poor decision. An opening.”

You go rigid. “You’re going to use it.”

Charlotte’s smile is thin, almost pitying. “We don’t need to. All it takes is a whisper. A well-timed doubt. The photo is just a prop—your presence here is the real threat.”

“I didn’t come back for Jack,” you say, voice low, sharp. “I came back because I earned this. I built this life without him.”

“I’m sure you believe that,” she replies. “But tell me—how many people will see it that way once the story shifts?”

You stare at her, breath tight in your lungs.

Charlotte leans forward, her voice dropping.

“Reputation is about narrative. And you let yours tangle itself with both of my sons. That’s not ambition. That’s carelessness.”

You clench your jaw. “So this is what? Punishment? Gatekeeping?”

“This is protection,” she says. “For the legacy Jack still has left. For the family name. For order. You weren’t supposed to come back, and you definitely weren’t supposed to matter.”

You push back from the table, heart hammering.

“I won’t let you rewrite what happened.”

Charlotte exhales, slow and deliberate.

“We don’t need to rewrite,” she says. “We just need to remind people what they’re most willing to believe.”

And with that, you finally understand: she’s not afraid of the truth.

She’s counting on no one caring about it.

She stands. Smooths her blazer.

"You’ll think about it," she says. "I know you will. You always overthink things."

She gathers her purse. Steps to the door.

Then pauses.

Looks back.

"Do send my regards to Dr. Abbot," she says. "But let him rest. He’s done chasing ghosts."

She leaves.

And the air doesn’t move for a long, long time.

You don’t go straight back to the emergency room.

You say you’re checking vitals on 3. You say you’re waiting on a consult. You say your badge isn’t scanning on the trauma locker again. All of it is a lie.

You just need a minute.

And the cafeteria, sad as it is, doesn’t ask questions.

You take the far corner, near the vending machine that’s always broken. Slide into a seat against the wall and uncap your water bottle like you’ve got time to drink it. Like your stomach hasn’t been hollow since the moment Charlotte Abbot said “You always overthink things” and left you alone with your silence.

You don’t eat. You don’t scroll.

You listen.

It starts like a faint breeze. Two tables away. Two voices. Women. Breezy, clipped vowels that belong to people who’ve worked here long enough to stop pretending the place is sacred. You catch the first name—Renee—and the lilt of the second—Kirstie, maybe? RN tags. Hair tied back in uneven buns. One’s reading an email on her phone while eating baby carrots; the other’s folding a napkin into quarters like she’s trying to reduce the space she takes up.

“You see her this morning? Came in late. Or maybe she just looked it. Like she’d been crying or hadn’t slept or both.”

“Table Nine girl?”

“Mmhmm.”

“She matched here?”

“Apparently.”

A pause. The sound of chewing.

“Didn’t think they let that kind of drama through the Match algorithm.”

“They don’t. Unless someone made a call.”

That makes your stomach tighten.

You keep your eyes on the condensation dripping down your water bottle. Watch it bead. Slide. Pool against the label like it’s trying to escape.

“I mean, I don’t blame her, really. I’d sleep with Dr. Abbot too.”

“Wouldn’t. Too intense.”

“Exactly why I would.”

Laughter. Soft. Familiar.

“Still. Wild to go from one brother to the other.”

“I heard it happened before the cheating. Like she was already running hot for the older one while she was still with what’s-his-face.”

A beat.

“God. I sat at her table at the wedding. You could feel it. Like… heat. Not the sexy kind. The kind that curdles.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like Jack wouldn’t look at her. But also like he wasn’t not looking. You know?”

“Mmm. Dangerous.”

“Yeah. Like one of those things where no one says it out loud, but everybody knows? And now she’s on the trauma service?”

“What could go wrong.”

They laugh again.

But not cruelly. Not like they mean to hurt you.

Worse.

They sound curious. Intrigued. Entertained.

Like your life is a late-night case they didn’t have to chart.

And that’s what hurts the most.

Not that they’re wrong.

Not even that they’re talking.

But that it doesn’t occur to them—not for a second—that you might be sitting in the same room.

You rise slowly. Controlled. Leave the table. The air behind you buzzing with assumption and familiarity and the easy rhythm of women who’ve worked too many shifts to care about collateral damage.

You’re almost at the door when you hear one last thing—soft, almost inaudible.

“She doesn’t look like trouble.”

“They never do.”

You take the stairwell back up instead of the elevator. The motion helps. Forces breath into your lungs. Pulls your body back into your skin one step at a time.

You tell yourself it’s fine.

They didn’t say your name. They didn’t know for sure. They’re not malicious. Just bored. Just reading the signs you left behind.

But the signs were never yours to post.

They were hers.

Charlotte’s.

And now they’re blooming like mold on the walls of this hospital—impressions, innuendo, a photo no one’s seen but everyone feels.

You push open the stairwell door and nearly collide with Whitaker, who jumps like you slapped him.

“Oh—shit, sorry, didn’t mean to—uh.” He steps back, almost trips over his own feet. “Didn’t know anyone used this stairwell. Thought this was, like… pigeon storage.”

You stare at him.

He stares back.

Then frowns, softer now. “You okay? You look kinda—like your soul left but forgot its keys.”

You force a breath. “Caffeine’s crashing.”

He nods. Way too seriously. “Yeah. I had three Red Bulls before noon and then started crying in the elevator for, like, no reason? So. Vibes.”

His pager buzzes. He checks it. Grimaces.

“I gotta go help Santos find a vein in a dude. But, uh—if you die in the stairwell, just… don’t haunt me, okay?”

And then he’s gone—half-jogging, granola bar still in his pocket.

And somehow, that helps. A little.

You don’t move for a moment.

You just stand there in the middle of the hallway, scrub top wrinkled, ID lanyard sticking to your neck, pulse too loud in your ears.

Because this is the moment you understand something new.

They’re not going to ruin you all at once.

They’re going to let you rot slowly—beneath the surface, behind polite smiles, under the weight of stories that only have to feel true to become fact.

You rejoin the floor. You check on the elbow dislocation. You re-chart the beta. You even manage to laugh—half-heartedly—when Santos makes a joke about Whitaker falling asleep upright in the break room with his eyes open like some kind of burnt-out trauma raccoon.

You act normal. Because that’s what they expect from you. And you’ve already given them enough to whisper about.

You don’t see it until you swing by the resident lounge.

A bag.

Sitting on the counter near the fridge. Small. Black. Matte paper with matching ribbon handles—expensive, but subtle. One of those gift bags that looks like it came from a boutique that sells candles named after abstract emotions.

Tucked inside: tissue paper, crisp and folded. Something pale blue beneath it. And a small envelope. No name. Just your initials. Neat. Slanted. Familiar.

You glance around.

No one.

You peel the tissue back.

Inside: a travel-sized set of things. Lotion. Lip balm. A roll-on essential oil labeled “serenity.” A tin of mints. A tiny mirror shaped like a peony. The kind of kit someone would give a bridesmaid. Or a nervous girl. Or a mess.

Your hands go cold.

You open the envelope.

The card inside is thick, soft cream stock. Gold-foiled edging. Real stationary. Not drugstore. Not impulse-buy.

The handwriting is deliberate. Feminine.

“You seemed overwhelmed at the wedding. A little grace goes a long way. Hope this helps.”

That’s it.

No name.

But you know.

Of course you know.

Because the font on the “grace” matches the embossing on the brochure Charlotte tried to hand you this morning. Because the lotion is the same brand she used to leave in the guest bathroom during holidays, with the lavender sachets and the monogrammed hand towels no one was allowed to use.

Because grace is a word women like her wield like a scalpel.

You set the card down.

Slowly.

Like it might explode.

You want to throw the whole bag out. Shove it in the trash and light it on fire. But that would make it a scene. That would give it shape. And this isn’t a story with witnesses. It’s a pressure game.

You pick up the bag.

And gently—very gently—place it in your locker, behind your trauma clogs and extra compression socks. You close the door like you’re sealing something inside.

You don’t tell anyone.

Because it’s just lotion, right?

It’s just a card.

It’s just concern.

It’s not a threat.

Except it is.

You feel it in your teeth.

The door creaks when you push it open.

You don’t mean to be here. Not really. You’d just kept climbing—one flight, then another—chasing silence like it might let you breathe.

And now you’re standing on the roof of Allegheny General, the wind catching at the edge of your scrub top, the sky that sickly shade of late-shift blue, and the city stretching wide in every direction like it knows how lost you feel.

Your chest’s still tight from the last case. You can feel it in your ribs, in the place behind your sternum where the monitor beeped too long and too steady. You shouldn’t have run it. You weren’t even the first assist. But Langdon barked something about moving faster, and suddenly it was your hands in that kid’s chest, your voice counting off compressions, your breath stuck in your throat while the mother screamed in the hallway.

You keep trying to forget the sound.

You can’t.

The wind’s colder than you expect. It bites at your fingers, tugs strands of hair loose. You cross to the edge of the rooftop and lower yourself onto the concrete, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tight around them, jaw locked as the city yawns open below.

You don’t cry.

You just sit there. Still in the scrubs with someone else’s blood drying under your sleeve.

You breathe.

One in, one out.

Don’t fall apart. Don’t flinch. Don’t let them see it.

That’s what you’ve been telling yourself since orientation. Since you saw the bag. Since you caught the two nurses whispering about you in the cafeteria.

And now you’re here. On the roof. Alone.

Except you’re not.

You don’t see him at first.

But you feel him—before he says anything. That shift in the air. That low, deliberate kind of stillness he carries with him, like he was built in the silence between artillery rounds. You don’t turn. Not right away.

You just stare straight ahead and say, “If you’re here to tell me I’m being dramatic, you’ll have to wait your turn.”

A beat of quiet. Then—

“That bad, huh?”

You glance over your shoulder.

Jack stands a few feet away, hands in his jacket pockets, watching you like he’s not sure you’ll let him near.

“I didn’t know you came up here,” you murmur.

Jack shrugs. “Only on the days that end in Y.”

You almost smile.

Almost.

He watches you for a second longer, then walks over and sits beside you—carefully, like he’s still measuring the space between you, still remembering what it felt like to want more than he was allowed to ask for.

“You good?” he asks.

You let out a laugh that isn’t really a laugh. “I think I broke a rib trying to crack a five-year-old’s chest, so no.”

Jack doesn’t flinch. He just nods.

“That was a shit case.”

You don’t respond. You just look out at the skyline.

Jack leans back, eyes on the clouds. “First time I lost a kid, I punched a vending machine and bled through three sets of gloves before anyone noticed.”

You glance at him.

He looks tired. Not the kind of tired sleep could fix. The kind that lives in your joints, your blood, your bones.

“I didn’t punch anything,” you say quietly.

He turns his head to look at you. “No. You ran it.”

You stiffen.

“Bad call?” you ask.

Jack’s expression doesn’t change. “No. Right call. Just a hard one.”

You nod. But your hands are fists in your lap now.

Silence.

Then—

“You always did show up when it was already burning.”

You say it before you mean to. And instantly regret it.

Jack’s jaw flexes. But he doesn’t argue.

You don’t know why you said it. Maybe because you’re tired. Maybe because you’re still bleeding somewhere inside from the last time you let him close.

Or maybe because being on this roof, with him sitting too near and not saying enough, makes it too easy to remember that summer. His hands on your skin. His mouth at your throat. His voice in the dark, low and wrecked, whispering your name like a confession.

You loved him. You never told him, but you did.

And when he left—God, when he left like that—you told yourself you’d never feel that weak again.

You nod toward the door. “I should head back.”

He doesn’t move. Just watches you rise.

Then, just as your hand touches the door handle, he says—soft, almost inaudible—“You know it wasn’t just about me, right?”

You freeze.

He doesn’t clarify. Doesn’t explain.

But you know what he means.

That it wasn’t just about him staying away.

It was about who else told him to.

Who else never wanted you there in the first place.

You look back at him—just once.

And the thing that breaks you isn’t the distance. It’s the fact that he still looks at you like he wants to close it.

But you can’t let him.

Not now.

Because if you let him back in—if you let any of this happen again—you’ll lose more than your grip.

You’ll lose him.

So you just say, “I know.”

And then you leave.

Because sometimes protecting someone means becoming the thing they believe they’re better off without.

Even when it kills you.

The hallway you’re walking is the kind that always feels too long at the end of your shift—too fluorescent, too still. This stretch of the hospital doesn’t carry voices well. Just the sound of your own footsteps bouncing off cracked tile and the occasional hum of overworked vents. The air smells like bleach and something older, something settled deep in the walls.

You pass a hand sanitizer dispenser that’s half broken, a light that flickers once and dies. And still, you keep moving. Until something catches in your chest and you stop—just for a second. Just long enough to press the heel of your hand to your sternum like pressure might calm the panic clawing up from somewhere you can’t name.

Jack’s words are still in your ears.

You know it wasn’t just about me, right?

You knew. You’ve always known. The whispers at the wedding. The long looks from his mother. The fact that she wouldn’t speak to you unless his brother was in the room.

You remember the way she smiled when you'd leave. The kind of smile that doesn’t reach the eyes. That says: finally.

You make it to the break room without seeing anyone. But someone’s already there.

Langdon’s leaned against the counter, sipping coffee like he hasn’t run three traumas back-to-back. He glances up as you walk in. Doesn’t say anything at first—just narrows his eyes like he’s assessing damage.

“Hell of a shift,” he says eventually.

You open your locker. Your hands are still shaking.

“Rooftop help?” he adds.

You freeze.

Slowly turn your head.

“I was up near Step-Down a few minutes ago,” he says, tone casual but not careless. “Caught a view of the east side.”

You freeze at your locker. Your hands still.

He sips once. Doesn’t blink.

“Saw you and Jack up on the roof.”

The air tightens.

He leans back against the counter, eyebrows lifting, expression unreadable. “You two okay?”

You force your voice not to crack. “Fine.”

Langdon sips his coffee again. “Uh-huh. That why he’s still up there?”

Your blood goes cold.

You blink. “What?”

Langdon nods toward the window. “Still saw him when I came down just now. Just standin’ there. Staring like the whole goddamn city did something personal.”

You don’t respond. You just shove your granola bar into your bag and close the locker harder than you mean to.

Langdon watches you. “You sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine.”

He lets it sit there. Doesn’t push.

But then he says, casually, “There’s been talk.”

Your body goes rigid.

“What kind of talk?”

Langdon shrugs. “Couple nurses. Something about you. Something about Jack. And something about the Abbot family not being too happy to see you walk through the front doors.”

You meet his gaze.

“Let them talk.”

Langdon snorts. “They will.”

You shoulder your bag. Turn to go.

Langdon calls after you, voice low but serious.

“Whatever this is, it doesn’t scare me. But it scares him.”

You stop in the doorway. Don’t turn around.

“Good,” you say. “He should be scared.”

And then you’re gone.

You don’t look back.

You can’t.

Not when the person who’s still standing on the rooftop hasn’t moved an inch since you left.

[evilminji]

Okay, as I have mentioned, I'm Ace AF. And you know that plot line in kids cartoons where the alien or foreign Warrior Royalty just sort of *violently kicks down door in full armor* "We Will Marry."? I?? Always said:

"Sure!" (#OhThankFUCK!)

Like what do you mean "No"? The powerful, attractive, monarch that is very into you has travel a great distance JUST to marry you! Now you don't have to date! They seem nice! You can skip the whole "trying to find a life partner" awkwardness.

So, Sudden New Fiancee(tm) how we doing this? Blended customs? Two weddings? One in your peoples traditions, one in mine? Should we invite your family? Tell me more about yourself.

God, this solves just... SO MUCH for me? No having to make small talk. No "do they like me?" Or "am I reading the signs here right?" No failed dates! It's positively ideal! AND they announced why they were qualified, in a VERY impressive show of power and prestige, when they arrived! Good lineage AND accomplished!! Very nice.

Don't get why everyone's so upset.

Sure the "we leave at once" thing that usually follows would have to be discussed, but that's what you DO as spouses. Really guys, it's like you think I'm incapable of common sense here.

And you know who probably agrees with me? Damian Wayne.

Hell is other people, INDEED. You expect him to just... randomly go up to people and try Courting them? What do you MEAN it's "creepy" to compile portfolios on eligible individuals of worthy bloodlines? How ELSE is he supposed to know if they are worth attempting to talk too?!

There are BILLIONS of humans on this gods forsaken rock, Richard! Is he supposed to just GUESS? Gamble and hope for LUCK? This is a MARRIAGE not a "best friends club"!

Then? Danny showes up.

Gotham heard her baby talking. Heard her KING being harassed by clearly plotting Observants and power hungry ghosts MANY times his age. Connected some dots. Formed themselves a new OTP.

Danny says "Fuck It". Worst he can say is No. According to Gotham, he is neither Shy not the meek obedient sort. Is in fact, VERY stabby. So if he's not interested he'll no doubt be BRUTALLY clear about that.

So? Danny gets Fright Knight. Go get him a horse. Someone fetch Cujo some armor. He's been told the guy like weapons and animals.

TIME TO BE IMPRESSIVE.

He goes FULL Regalia. Armor of solid night sky. Cape of frost and stardust. Crown like crack in reality itself, through which the cosmos gleam and shift. He gets a horse from the far frozen. They're wooly and carnivorous. Gets THE most impressive sword he can find to wear.

It's gonna be a gift, since he doesn't need it.

He does the whole "rend the skies open" thing. Fan fair and knights. Every title he's ever been given, no matter how embarrassing he find them in reality. And announces his intentions. Declares that ONLY Damian Wayne, aka. Robin, is WORTHY to Marry Him. And (in the traditional Ghost proposal of "either accept or tell me to fuck off" /w violence) Demands Damian accept his offer of Marriage.

Right there.

IN THE WATCHTOWER.

In front of EVERYBODY. And yes, ESPECIALLY the Bats. Who are making glitching, vaguely threatening DEMONIC NOISES. Because? You... you THREATEN the BABY? Death. Ten thousand years DEATH.

People are :O ing and backing away from the visible heatwave of unadulterated FURY being put off by Batman. Danny is nano-second from every bone his ANCESTORS had being reduced to a fine paste.

Then? Damian consider him... considers the sword being thrust in his direction, still held aloft in a steady and armored hand... contemplates those titles for a second...

And goes: "Acceptable. Very well, but I have demands."

N..... Nani the FUCK? Says local Bat-Dad. No??? You are NOT GETTING MARRIED.

Try to stop him. He very obviously IS, according to Damian, the man brought him a kick ass sword and has a giant green dog. Is the king of an ENTIRE REALITY. Yes, he realizes he probably COULD do better... but frankly? This one's cute. But if it upset you so... extended engagement. There. Happy?

NO! Because the JLA Dark are LOSING THEIR SHIT. Damian is still UNDERAGE. We don't even know how OLD this being is! NO MARRIAGE.

Damian is unimpressed. A whole six months? That he's likely already LIVED thanks to various timeloops, temporal shenanigans, and reality warping bits of fuckery? You're reaching.

Just? Marriage Meet Cute.

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe

[zzthekaiju]

So...Lumi's out

First of all, my initial thoughts:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIT'S PEAK! GO WATCH IT NOW, THE REST OF YOU! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!?!?!

Okay, how about a bit more detail.

Let me get something out of the way here. The fact that this pilot is mostly an animatic as opposed to a fully-completed animation...is an absolute non-issue, and in fact a blessing. We need to take this mindset of "if it's not as crisp and borderline industry standard-looking as something like Hazbin or Lackadaisy then it doesn't deserve attention", put it in a casket, and BURY it so far below the ground it makes the remains of Precambrian lifeforms jealous.

Besides, the animatic release of the recent indie pilot, "Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want to Be a Magical Girl" is absolute proof that you don't NEED to have a fully completed episode to wow others (Seriously, we all need to thank @kianamaiart for being such an inspiration). You just need a good concept, endearing characters, a ton of effort on full display, and a can-do attitude.

Lumi delivers on all of those fronts.

First of all, Evan Besser, AKA @starteas, needs a titanic pat on the back for releasing this during Autism Acceptance Month. Because simply put, speaking as someone on the spectrum, this is a cartoon made by autistic people, for autistic people.

Take main character Siona for instance. Aside from being canonically autistic, she really feels like the neurodivergent experience personified. She has really niche interests, tons of knowledge/enthusiasm regarding said interests, and struggles with expressing that in a society not quite built with people like her in mind. It's quite relatable when you think about it.

Other major autism-coded aspects include just the fantastical setting/characters in general and the themes of finding acceptance and belonging via friends. I'm not going to act like a total expert on the matter, but I do speak from experience.

Now what about the pilot itself? Well, what can I say except it's everything I wanted it to be?

Ah, I can do it in note form:

-I...did not expect to sympathize with Hala like I did by the pilot's end. I don't want to give anything away, but my opinion of her did a complete 180 upon seeing the big twist. From "you are terrible" to "you don't deserve this, but you're out of control". Impressive!

-Siona is such a treasure throughout. Just a cute kindhearted autistic slug girl doing her best. I vibe with her immensely. She'd be my favorite character if not for someone else having that title.

-Davin...what can I say, I've been in love with this character's design and personality since Day 1, and they did not disappoint. It was heart-melting seeing them being so supportive and close with their best friend. Their hugs are just so casual and warm and aughghghgh...I wish I could be more like them.

-Holden kind of felt like he was constantly skirting the line between "lovable rogue" and "unconcerned brat", but we don't watch these things for everyone to be squeaky-clean, now do we? Either way, I like the dynamic he provides with the others.

-I know I've spent the longest time bullying Felicity for being the typical rich brat, but I was honestly surprised by how emotionally vulnerable she turned out to be. Yeah, she still has the hallmarks of characters I detest, but I ADORE how it's shown right out the starting gate that she's capable of being a multi-dimensional person who clearly has a lot of baggage AND is capable of being a good person.

-Mika is NEVER going to beat the simp allegations. And he sounds like Hermes from "EPIC: The Musical". He's hilarious and I love him for that.

-Lumi...OH MY GOD THEY'RE SUCH A LITTLE BABY THEY'RE SO CUTE!!!!!!!!!!!! I can't take it, they were so adorable with the smallness and the "pyu" noises and the way Siona is so gentle and welcoming with them. The way they bond with Davin is a major bonus as well.

-...yeah, this whole pilot is basically "Exhausted parents give their gremlin son a little sibling while aggravating the royalty". I will accept no counter-arguments.

-Spoiler alert but, to a certain character I thought I was going to support every step of the way...

If you know, you know.

-I should also note that the expressions in this thing are just as funny as they would have been fully-animated, if not funnier. Below are the ones that had my sides hurting from laughter:

-Background aliens were really neat, some REALLY amusing Easter eggs if you know where to look. But I find it rather hilarious that one of the aliens is literally Just A Penguin. Reminds me of the bear gag from "Avatar: The Last Airbender".

Altogether...I'm so happy to have been a part of this journey. As some of you probably know, I've done a sizeable amount of fan-arts/fan-comics for this show since I really started getting into it last year. I've worked really hard on them, and I'd highly recommend you check them out (plus for those of you who want to dub the comics I've done, you are VERY welcome to do so provided you give proper credit and such).

But this isn't about me. This is about the artist who has inspired me and undoubtedly so many others. Evan, if you're reading this, I want you to know that you have come SUCH a long way, and I am more than glad to have discovered you and known you as a fellow artist. You may have your doubts and your resignations, but you need to look at where your hard work has gotten you. You've made something that not only radiates creativity and charm, but helps neurodivergent people like us feel more seen than ever. You and your crew(mi) deserve every bit of praise and support you've received and more, and I don't think the latter could have done this without you at the helm. And it's paying off in ways you probably couldn't even imagine. That writing gig you got at none other than Glitch Productions is a clear indicator that the next generation of animation is looking upon you with a bright smile and a guiding hand towards the future.

So rest for awhile. You've more than earned it. Maybe the wait will be short, maybe it'll be long. Either way, when you're ready to once again break out this amazing great big galaxy you've crafted, we'll all be there there. And until then, we'll support whatever decision you make.

You're gonna truly rattle the stars, one day.

(Oh, and I'm going to be making a Vo Memes -style tribute video with some help over the week, just thought I'd let you know that).

[valkierrie]

ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀꜱ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀꜱ.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warning(s): (Liam Gallagher smut), swearing, alcohol.

Plot: Y/N was considered by others to be tied down by her religion. She didn't think she needed anything apart from her bible, but upon meeting Liam Gallagher, he shows her the pleasures of life she was taught was taboo and opens her up to a world of Enlightenment.

Word count: 6.4K

A/N: A story I've been dying to get out, don't worry, I will be back on the requests for the Damon girlies and the one Noel request as well as Ian Brown. This story was hell to write and even worst to edit. Enjoy.

X

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The chapel was packed, as it normally was on Sunday mornings. The church was bigger than most and could hold twice the size. The soft smell of freshly baked chocolate chip biscuits filled the air as worship leaders served them to entering bodies of people. I chose to sit towards the front. Not the front row, but two or three rows behind it. My own biscuit rested on top of a white napkin and set beside my Bible on the wooden bench.  

As people filed, filling up the seats left and right, I wore the usual. A long-sleeved shirt tucked into a long skirt, finished off with the usual smile that was on my face when my eyes met someone else’s. There was the familiar sound of chatter as couples greeted couples and families greeted families.  

Pastor Thomas took his place on the high platform, behind the large, white altar. His tall figure stood before the church, looking over all of us with an intense level of authority. Which to some extent, one could argue he had. The chatters turned to murmurs before it went to silence. He had that power. He didn’t need to speak to command a room, but when he did, everyone listened. Myself included. I admired him dearly. Always impressed with his self-control and discipline—qualities I lacked and wished dearly to grasp with the same firm hold he had on them. 

“Good morning.” Pastor Thomas greeted. 

There was a chorus of greetings all throughout the congregation. 

“Now, today’s sermon is going to be a little different.” He glanced around at the rows of families, his face in an expression that I couldn’t quite decipher. “Let’s have our little ones onto the room next door, please.” He signalled for one of the worship leaders, who was guided the kids towards himself.  

Parents ushered their small children towards the worship leader, some tinkering or fixing their clothes before nudging them towards him. He led them out of the large worship hall we were in and took them elsewhere. There were small conversations and shuffles as the transition occurred. 

Pastor Thomas gathered everyone’s attention back. “Right.” He coughed. “Dear brothers and sisters in Christ—” His voice falters, as if the titles were poison at the edge of his tongue. “Though, I hesitate to call you that. Let’s not lie in the house of the Lord, you are all sinners.”  

There was an echo of whispers all around the flock. 

“Yes, each and every single one of you.” Pastor Thomas didn’t waver; his tone was cold and convicting. “As I am very clearly pure in the eyes of the Father, I am your shepherd, and it is my duty to make sure your souls aren’t dragged to the pits of hell.”  

There was a small pause between his words, allowing us to take it all in. I wasn’t too sure I was taking it in well. I understood what he was saying, and it wasn’t anything new. He always spoke in this tone, but lately something strange had been simmering. I didn’t know how to go about it, really.  I found myself doing less of the expected head-nodding and seal-clapping, instead my brow rose.  I may have looked up to the man, but one couldn’t help but...inquire on his choice of words when he preached. I tried to orient myself in the way he preached, and the more I tried, the harder the feeling unsettlement settled. Even now, I was uncertain, but there wasn’t exactly anyone I could go about my thoughts with.  

“Today, I bring upon you a topic that has been plaguing our youths and poisoning them, worse than any alcohol and drug in the world.” He spoke gesturally, using his hands to emphasise his point. “Fornication. Sexual intercourse before marriage.” Pastor Thomas’ hands touched the pulpit softly, though his grip was firm. “This topic isn’t up for debate, it is clear in the book, First Corinthians, chapter six, verse eighteen. You are to ‘flee from sexual immorality’ but instead today what do I see? The complete opposite. One can only wonder what our Lord in heaven and what I think about it all.” 

There was silence, only sounds being made was the silent shuffling made by the movements of heads in agreement.  

“Even something as small as the thought of fornication is destined take you to eternal hellfire. Unless you follow me, your fate is sealed.” 

I adjusted my posture uncomfortably, moving my shoulders slowly. That last sentence felt targeted towards me specifically. Though there wasn’t any logical explanation or concrete evidence that it was, that didn’t stop my mind from betraying me. As of recently, I’ve been having... less than holier thoughts. The fleeting, unbidden thoughts. The kind that left small yet remanent wet patches on my undergarments. The yearning desire was strong, I didn’t understand why I felt this way, nor did I want to know. There was no way I was going to talk to anyone about it and risk the inevitable judgement that was to come. I couldn't. I picked up my Bible, like a sigil that was meant to protect me from the civil war in my mind. It wasn’t me anymore—the girl who found peace in a place like this. The sentiment was nothing show of a distant memory; I wasn’t so sure that I fit in anymore. 

“I decree today...” Pastors Thomas set his gaze firmly on the congregation with importance, as if the following words that would come out of his mouth would become the next testimonies of the New Testament. “That as long as you abide to my words, your soul will be saved. If you don’t, don’t expect to be remembered for anything aside from choosing to separate yourself from God, after all, no one mourns the wicked.” 

That was the last of what he said about it, and it left a dry taste in my mouth. Something felt wrong—something was wrong. Ironically, it felt like God was trying to tell me something at that moment. Pastor Thomas’ words covered my ears and his presence blinded my eyes. As the rest of the service went by, rather forgettably, my regard shifted to the glass windows. For what seemed like a few seconds, my thoughts drifted to what could have been, without any of it. The judgement or the expectation. The light peering through was bright, enticing, almost beckoning. Pastor’s Thomas’ words still lingered in my head as I walked home.  

“You finally back to the land of the living, love?” Eliza called out as I walked into the flat. Eliza, my darling antithesis of a flatmate, laid on the sofa, feet tucked under her as she applied layers mascara over her eyes. 

I sighed, removing my flats and leaving them beside the door. It took a few strides for me to reach the sofa and plop down beside her. 

“How was it?” She asked, her gaze still fixed on the small mirror on her lap. 

“Fine.” 

“Uh, oh,” she teased, “that sounds eventful.” 

“Eliza, please, save the sarcasm for another time. I’m not in the mood.” 

Eliza smirked, moving her gaze from the mirror to me. “What’s going on?” 

“Why do you think anything’s going on?” 

“You usually have that stupid smile on your face after ev’ry church visit.” 

A tired sigh escaped my lips. “Do you...” There was a flicker of hesitation in my tone. “At church today, something felt off...” 

Eliza rose a brow. “What do you mean?” 

“Well...” I sat up, straightening my back. I wasn’t exactly sure how to sum up what was going through my mind in simple words. “Pastor Thomas was preaching about fornication.” 

“Is that what’s got your knickers in a bunch?” Eliza rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you once and I’ll say it again a million times, getting a few good shags once in a while won’t kill ya.” 

“It wasn’t what he said, it was how he said it.” 

Eliza adjusted her position, turning her crossed legged self towards me, her head tilting ever-so sightly. 

“He was authoritative, it felt as if he was playing God—or he thought that he was God. It felt cultish.” I sighed, this time not out of tiredness, but in discord. “It’s stupid. Maybe I’m just overthinking it...” 

“It’s not stupid, you’re just...curious, that’s okay.” 

“It shouldn’t be like that though...right?” 

“How should I know, I haven’t been to a church in years, let alone picked up a bible.” Eliza snorted. 

The humour in the situation hadn’t caught up to me, Eliza could see that. She placed the tube of her mascara on the coffee table, grinning. “Tell you what—I’m going to the pub downtown with a couple mates, why don’t you come?” 

“A pub, really?” I blinked. 

“Hey, don’t knock it,” She laughed, using her knee to nudge mine. “A change of scenery’ll do you some good. In addition, you get to see me in ideal element—chugging down pints.” 

“Of course.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. I wasn’t sure what prompted me to accept her invitation, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt, especially since it I was adamant that this was going to be a one-time thing.  

Eliza squealed, pulling me into a small hug as a reluctant smile tugged at my lips. 

The evening took over quicker than I had anticipated, and I found myself stood at the entrance of a dodgy building, adjusting the blouse Eliza had begged me to wear. 

“If you’re not going to wear anything flattering,” She had told me, rummaging through her closet. “Then at least wear this.” She had pulled out a small white blouse. The shirt was cropped at the bottom, the neckline was a low V-neck. Not low enough to give my mother a heart attack—just low. 

Eliza pulled me by the arm into the pub. The place was packed despite the size.  

“I swear,” Eliza tried to speak over the other loud conversations. “It’s never this crowded, must be a match day or summat.” She pulled me through the crowd of people. Her theory might have held validity because a few—a lot of a them wore jerseys. They stood, crowded near the bar, their gazes fixed on the small TV mounted on the wall. Screams and shouts were all over. 

Eliza led me to a small table towards one of the corner windows. She greeted the strangers sat there with a smile and a simple, “Alright?” 

There was an ensemble of greetings returned to her.  

“I brought me mate, Y/N.” Eliza nodded towards me.  

The row of eyes that fell onto me felt a bit intimidating. I gave them a simple wave before taking an empty seat. Eliza began chattin’ up one of her mates. It was clearly one she was very familiar with; anyone could tell by the way she moving her hand up and down his shoulder. From how he looked like and how Eliza had described him in prior conversations, I assumed it was her boyfriend, Alexander. I sat there awkwardly, not really sure what I could’ve done. My mind was all over the place and contrary to what Eliza had claimed, this was doing nothing to help. The yelling and rowdiness of it all rendered me unable to think clearly in the sloghtest. 

“I leave my seat for 3 seconds, and some bird’s already nicked it.” A voice broke my thoughts. 

“Excuse me?” I turned to the side, where the source of the voice came from, only to be greeted by a tall bloke. He stood with a lanky build, and short, shaggy, dark hair. He had a light blue jersey worn over his torso; the colour was almost as blue as his eyes. A lit cigarette dangled from his lips. I couldn’t lie; he looked quite fit under the low lights. 

“I said,” he repeated. “You’re in my seat.” He took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling the fumes, tapping the butt of his cigarette. 

I was taken aback by the tone, and bit annoyed. “I didn’t see you sitting in it, nor did I see a name on it.” 

“Got a right gob on ya, don’t ya.” He crossed his arm.  

I opened my mouth, ready to say something, but whatever was about to come out of my mouth was cut short when Eliza approached. “Liam, finally. Didn’t see ya, was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.” 

Liam, scoffed. “I wouldn’t show,” he mocked. “Yeah right. City’s playing United, like I’d miss that.” 

“’Course, good old Liam Gallagher just couldn’t stay away.” Eliza chuckled; she turned towards me. “Y/N, you’ve met Liam, right?” 

“Can’t say that I have.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Liam smirked; he turned to Eliza. “You’re—uh mate here stole my chair.” 

“Can’t steal something that doesn’t belong to you.” I retorted.  

“That’s Y/N for ya.” Eliza shook her head, laughing. She turned towards the bar. “I’m gonna get a drink. You two want anythin’?” 

“Just a pint for me, yeah?” 

I simply shook my head. 

“Suite yerself.” Eliza shrugged.  

“You not drinkin’?” 

I shook my head. “What’s it to you?” 

“Nowt, just askin’.” he chuckled, pulling up another chair that was left unattended. “You’re at a bar, figured you’d get a drink or summat, but then again...” His voice trailed off, and his gaze lowered to my chest, where a small, gold, crucifix necklace laid. 

“So, why’d you ask?” 

“Didn’t wanna assume.” Liam shrugged. He exhaled another cloud of smoke, allowing it to curl between us. His gaze was set on necklace once more before his eyes met mine. “What brings a bird like you out here, then?” 

“Stretching my horizons.” I responded light and sarcastically, placing my hands on my lap. 

“Right.” He rolled his eyes, tapping his cigarette against the table. “And I’m the bloody Queen.” 

“Eliza’s idea. She needs someone who isn’t pissed to take her back to the flat at the end of the night.” 

“Nice thing, that.” Liam nodded, as if processing the information. “That shirt also her idea?” He nodded towards my top. 

“Why d’you think that?” 

“It’s actually got a neckline. Gives a blokes summat interestin’ ‘bout ya to look at.” 

The statement caught me off guard, before I could respond, Eliza interrupted me once more, this time coming back with a long glass cup filled with the beverage Liam had requested, a cloud of foam overtaking the top. 

“Cheers, love.” He thanked Eliza. 

Eliza gave him a smile before returning to her other mates. Liam took sip of his drink.  

“You’ve ever had one of these?” 

I shook my head. 

“Tragic, you’re missin’ out. This is heaven, this.” 

“Oh, I’m sure it is.” 

“It is,” Liam nodded in agreeance. “You should get one.” 

“I don’t drink.” 

“Ah, you one of ‘em proper good girls?” He smirked. 

I didn’t like that question, at all. Liam could tell; the smirk grew wider. He kept going, as if getting a rise out of me was some kind of funny humorous thing. I didn’t feel like dignifying his taunts with a response. I stood up, ready to find Eliza or elsewhere to sit.  

Liam’s hand caught my arm with a gentle grip. “C’mon, I’m just takin’ the piss. Fair play an’ all that.” His tone was still the same, but I could tell that he wasn’t outright trying to mock me. 

“Right.” I pulled my arm away. 

Liam raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, I’ll back down.” 

I sat back down.  

Liam smiled. “Let’s try again.” He stuck out his hand towards me. “Liam. Liam Gallagher.” 

My eyes flickered from his hand to his face. “Y/N,” reluctantly, I took and shook it. “Y/N L/N.” 

Liam leaned back, his grin widening. “So, Y/N. You ever head of Oasis?” 

“Oasis?” I repeated, trying to figure out if the band held a place of familiarity. “I’m not sure that I have, what is it?” 

Liam chuckled. “Only the best band in the fuckin’ world.” 

“Is that right?” I rose a brow. “Why’s that?” 

“’Cause I’m in it.” Liam stated it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“That sounds biased.”  

“It’s not biased; It’s just a fact.” 

That was the first thing that evenin’ that managed to get a smile out of me, I didn’t know why. His confident demeanour almost made me want to believe him. The rest of the evening went by pretty fast with Liam keeping me ‘entertained’ with stories about his band. They were unusual for sure, but somehow, they had managed to tug at the corners of my lips or made a chuckle escape my lips before I could stop myself. 

By the time Eliza made her way back to me, the time was well past when I’d be in bed, and Eliza was stumblin’ about. 

“That’s my cue.” 

Liam nodded. I placed Eliza’s arm over my shoulders, my arm going around her waist for support, and helped her out of the pub. I wanted to say that I had a lousy time, but it wasn’t all bad. 

Eliza mumbled some slurred intelligible statements in an effort to convey something, whatever it may be. For someone so tall, she was pretty lightweight. It was darker outside than a had been when we arrived, the temperature seemed to have dropped as well, the cold air hit me like a slap to the face. Almost made me regret leaving the flat without a jacket. It made sense as to why Eliza had gone without out. She’d be too out of it to complain about the cold.  

We passed a strange-looking building; one I saw frequently on my way to church. It hadn’t paid much attention to it—mainly because it blended in well with the other buildings. Tonight, however, it was lit up. Coloured lights everywhere, mainly red ones. Women, many in various stages of scantily clad clothing, stood outside. Some leaned against the lamp posts while others were near the entrance or likely inside. 

I paid them no mind, I had no business with them—plain and simple. As I gently dragged Eliza forward and down the street, something caught my eye—rather someone. Coming out of the building was a tall man, a woman’s arm interlocked with his. I recognized him immediately, and holy fuck. 

Pastor Thomas. 

Pastor Thomas grinned as the woman pulled him forward. Their lips were moving, but I couldn’t quite make out what was being said. But from the smiles on both of their faces and the ease between them, as well as the way her face lit up with a grin when Pastor Thomas handed her a few note, it was obvious what was going on.   

There wasn’t a single bible in sight.  

Of course, I was aware that people had lives outside of church, but seeing him coming out of somewhere like that? There was no logical way to put the pieces together without something being wrong. I couldn’t make sense of it. 

It should have been obvious what was going on, but my brain supressed the truth. My head didn’t want to allow me to get to that point of acceptance. Not yet. I almost dropped Eliza from my shock. I adjusted my grip around her waist as I quickened my pace, hoping to pass unseen. As we did, I turned back, silently praying that it wasn’t who I thought it was—that fatigue was just playing a cruel joke on me. 

Pastor Thomas’ eyes met mine. I couldn’t possibly tell you what going on in his brain. His expression changed, not to that of guilt, or embarrassment, or anything of the sorts. This moment felt like a page out of Animal Farm. I didn’t recognize him. His gaze felt like a was sort of a silent threat, a challenge of sorts. One that told me that he was aware of what I had seen and dared me to say something about it. I moved Eliza and I along until we reached the flat. I fumbled with the key until the door unlocked. Kicking it open, I helped Eliza inside.  

I helped her out of her shoes, taking her to her room. I wasn’t exactly sure how much she’d to drink, but I was certain it wasn’t enough to let her sleep on her back. I adjusted her position, letting her sleep comfortably on her side. 

In my own room, I changed out of my clothes and into my pyjamas. As I laid on my bed, sleep just wouldn’t catch up to me. My mind was begging for a conclusion—anything. It replayed what I had seen, searching and scanning for answers and loopholes. What I saw wouldn’t suffice. Was that what God was trying to tell me?  

God, I sounded crazy, getting warnings from God. Now I knew how Joan of Arc felt. Was this what I was warned about? That my pastor taught one thing and did the opposite. I was undeniably disappointed.  

If he couldn’t hold himself to the standards he had set, what did that say about what I stood for? 

My thoughts didn’t keep me up for too long. I wasn’t sure when I had fallen asleep, but I knew I had when my eyes fluttered open and bright light spilled into my room from the small available cracks on my shutters.  I blinked rapidly, allowing my eyes to get adjusted.  

In the kitchen, Eliza leaned against a counter, one hand on her temple and the other on a glass of water.   

“Remind me to never drink again.” She groaned.  

“That’d be in vain.” I spoke with a dry tone. 

Her head lifted, a small yet weak smile on her face. “Thanks for last night. Who knows where I would’ve ended up if you weren’t there.” 

“It was nothing.” I shrugged. “It’s what a friend does.” 

Eliza turned so her lower back hit the counter, she took a sip of her water. “How’re you holdin’ up?” 

“What?” I blinked. 

“Did last night help you clear your mind?” 

“No,” I shook my head. “If anything, it made things worse.” 

“How?” Eliza’s brows knit in confusion; her smile was replaced with a frown. “Was it Liam? You were talkin’ to him all night—did he say summat?” 

“No.” 

“Then what?” 

There was a hint of hesitation before I spoke.“When I was walking you back home, I saw something.” 

“Really?” 

I nodded. 

“Okay, well tell me.” 

“I saw Pastor Thomas coming out of a building—” 

“Is that it? ” She blinked. 

“I think it was a brothel.” 

Silence. 

“A brothel?” Eliza repeated, in surprise. “Are you sure?” 

“I know what I saw—” I said, my voice firm. “—and I didn’t see a bible or anything.  

“wow...” Eliza's mouth was still ajar from the semi bomb I dropped. “You plannin’ on going back to that church?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“I honestly wish I could help, really, I do.” She spoke, her fingers massaging her temple. “But this hangover is doin’ me head in.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.” 

Eliza gave me a sympathetic smile, placing her hand on my shoulder and squeezing it. 

—  

Days of loitering about on the sofa occurred. Times where I should have been at church, where spent in the flat, doing nothing in particular. Luckily, Eliza kept me fed and kept away anyone from the congregation who was “too curious” about my absence from the church. The weigh of it felt like a heavy rock pressing down on me. 

It felt ridiculous, something so small, yet it held significance and I wasn’t sure why. Was my “belief” truly a belief if it had managed to be shaken by something like this? 

“You can’t keep sitting around like this.” Eliza said, one morning.  

I sat on the sofa, pulling my blanket higher over my shoulders. “Sure I can,” I argued. “I’m doing it right now.” 

“You can’t.” Eliza rolled her eyes, settling beside me.  

I didn’t say anything. 

“If you’ve got nowt to do...” Eliza started.  

I rose my brow, I knew where this was going. “No.” 

Eliza’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “You didn’t even lemme ask.” 

“Didn’t have to.” 

Eliza rolled her eyes. “I was gonna ask you to take me to the pub. Again.” 

“No way, that was a one-time thing.” 

Eliza stuck out her lips in a small pout. 

“That’s not going work.” 

“It works with Alexander.” 

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not Alexander.” I turned towards her, giving her a look. “And didn’t you say you were going to stop drinking.” 

“People change.” She shrugged. 

“Right.” I deadpanned. 

“C’mon, please.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.” 

Eliza grinned triumphantly. 

— 

Eliza and I found ourself in the same place we had been. It was like déjà vu, minus the blouse. I chose to stick with clothes that came from my own closet, much to Eliza’s annoyance. The pub was tamer than it had been the other time. There were actual visible empty chairs. Eliza greeted her mates near the bar. I sat further away, not really having much interest in them.  

The scraping sound of a chair being pulled back caught my attention. My gaze turned to the side, there he was again, Liam. An ever-present and cocky smirk accompanied him. “Back again?” 

“Yeah, I am. You got a problem with that?” 

Liam shook his head, the smirk remained as he leaned back. “Not at all, didn’t see you for a while—got worried I might of scared ya off.” 

“Great, now you’ve seen me.” I deadpanned. 

“I would, but it’s not as fun, y’know what I mean?” 

I rolled my eyes. 

“What’s got you in mood, then?” 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but these last few days haven’t exactly been a cakewalk.” 

“Lemme guess,” Liam leaned back. “You havin’ trouble deciding which bible verse to read before bed?” 

My eyes narrowed slightly. That didn’t bother Liam one bit, if anything, it made his grin wider.  

“My problem isn’t exactly that simple.” 

“I’m sure it isn’t.” He chuckled.  

My expression remained very much the same. I adjusted my position, placing my elbow on the table and my chin on my palm. 

“Y’know what’ll be bound to make you feel better?” 

“What?” 

“A cold pint.�� 

“I don’t drink.” I reiterated. 

“C’mon, love, why sit and stress when you can drink and forget?” 

I just stared at him. From the short time I’ve gotten to know what he was about, I learned that he wasn’t what you’d classify as Harvard-level intelligence, but he wasn’t stupid. I wanted to get out of this funk—I really did. He seemed to know what he was talking about, and Eliza always did look happy when she drank.  

“...Fine.” 

Liam’s brows shot up, as if he didn’t quite believe what I’d just said. “Alright.” he nodded, standing up. He went towards the bar, telling something to the bartender. The bartender handed him two glasses. Liam sat back down at my table, sliding one of the drinks towards me.  

“Try it.” Liam encouraged, taking a sip of his own drink. 

I did so. The taste was...unique. I’ve had alcohol before, if you count the wine they offered at church. The liquid burned my throat, it tasted bitter. After I swallowed it, a strong taste remained. I shook my head a bit.  

“Atta girl,” he grinned. “You’ll get used to the taste.” 

“I’m not sure I want to.” 

“It’ll grow on ya.”  Liam encouraged with a chuckle.  

I took a few more sips of the liquid and true to Liam’s words, the bitter after taste was almost numb to me. 

“Feelin’ better?” 

“A bit.” I chuckled. “My head feels fuzzy.” 

I leaned back, unbuttoning some of the top buttons of my shirt. 

“Look on the bright side, you look fit.” 

I turned my head to look at him, a ghost of a smile playing at my lips before I could stop it. Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Is that what you tell all the girls you trick into buying a drink?” 

“Only if they’re fit.” Liam shrugged. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” 

I leaned in close; Miscalculated my move. My drink to spill right on my lap. I quickly sat the cup right side up. 

“Bloody hell.” Liam burst into a fit of laughter. 

I stood up quickly, causing some of the drink to spill on to the ground. I released an aggressive sigh.  

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.” I rolled my eyes. “I swear, I’m never drinking again.” 

“C’mon,” Liam stood up, grabbing my arm. “I’ll help ya.” 

He didn’t give me a chance to give him an answer. Eliza saw us as we passed, her brows knit, I had barely had time to register it. 

Liam led to the restroom, pulling me inside after him and closing the door behind him. He picked up a stack of paper towels, dabbing them over my clothes—uselessly. his efforts did less to help than he had likely hoped. I placed my hand over his, stopping him.  

“It’s alright, I got it.” 

“Lemme help.” he insisted. 

“I don’t think what you’re doing qualifies as help.” I giggled.  

“Counts as summat.” 

My shirt was tainted by the beverage. I was certain I looked absolutely ridiculous. Liam just stared at me. I wasn’t sure what expression he was conveying to me. 

“What?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, as if atmosphere between us was sacred.  

“Go on then, tell me what’s been doin’ ya ‘ead in.” His voice was soft. 

“Just stuff with my church.” I spoke vaguely, hoping he wouldn’t pry deeper. 

“What happened?”  

There was the hesitation again. I looked at his face for any hint of malice or insincerity, but I found none. With a sigh, I spoke. “My pastor preaches about abstinence before marriage, while he goes to brothels.” 

Liam’s eyebrows shot up, laughter escaping from his throat. 

“Shut up, it’s not funny.” I hit in the chest; Liam only laughed harder. 

“Nah, it’s fuckin’ hilarious.” He grinned, wiping the corners of his eyes. “A brothel—now I’d pay good money to see that.” 

My eyes narrowed.  

“I don’t see how that would bother ya.” 

“He’s a pastor, always goes on and on about how that kind of thing is bad then goes around and does? He’s a hypocrite.” I looked down at my hands. “I looked up to him, now I just feel stupid.” 

Liam’s laughing subsided, fading. His expression fell to something softer. “Hey, c’mon, don’t say that. The tosser had no right to order you lot like that, ‘specially if he was doin’ that shit. You’re not stupid, alright?” 

I looked up at him, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. The warmth of his words spread all throughout my chest. “Thanks Liam.” 

Liam smiled, stepping closer. For a brief second, his eyes darted downwards to my lips, then back to my face. He just stared at me.  

Then, before I knew it, his hands cupped my cheeks, pulling me close and our lips met in a kiss. A startled sound escaped my lips. My hands found his shoulders, my conditioned state yelled at me to pull back—to push him away, but I couldn’t. Liam’s hands slid down, finding my waist. His tongue had made its way inside my mouth, wrestling with mine. 

He pulled away briefly, attempting to grasp as much oxygen as he could. I did the same, before I was pulled back, lips locking on to his.  

The buttons of my shirt were slowly coming undone until it was completely off. Left in my bra, the cold had goosebumps slowly making their way up my arms. It was strange standing like this in front of him, but I had a feeling, an almost animalistic desire—primal. It didn’t Liam long to get his shirt off and on the floor. At the moment, there wasn’t a care in the world about how dirty they were. Liam’s hands grasp my waist firmly, his fingers digging at them. It wasn't painful, there was just a feeling of pressure. 

His lips moved with mine, there was a strange sensation I felt as we moved together. I wasn’t entirely sure how to describe it, but it was...good. 

Liam slowly moved me back against the wall adjacent to the one that had the sink and mirror attached to it. The cold wall hit my back softly, lips still moulding against each other. Liam’s hand held my lower back, while the other grazed my thigh, slowly rising up and under my skirt. It moved gently, there was no haste nor rush in his touch, as if he wanted to savour every second. 

“You can... touch me, you know.” I told him. The brave tone in which I spoke with surprised myself. Perhaps the drink had an elixir-like effect on my brain chemistry. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” I confirmed, leaning back towards him for a hungry kiss. 

For once, I didn’t feel confined—trapped, that was how I felt and it felt fucking amazing.  

Liam’s hand flickered upwards, a soft whimper escaped my lips. I didn’t why it did, but it did. 

“Do that again.” I whispered. 

Liam complied; another sound was expelled from lips. The lace of my underwear was toyed with by Liam, brushing against my entrance with a frustrating slowness. 

Something between a gasp and a moan was the reaction that occurred when he slipped a finger inside. It stretched me in a way that made me shudder. The sensation felt odd—not in a bad way, just the unfamiliarity of it.  

I couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening. Maybe it was the weird buzz in my head from the drink, or maybe my thoughts had been cleared and I had subconsciously realised that maybe those standards that I held myself to wasn’t how I felt anymore. 

Whatever the case might have been, it felt liberating. A feeling of liberty. 

Liam’s finger managed to get a hold of a spot that had my head tilting back and my vision blurred. Then he inserted another one.  

“Ahh—” I gasped, my hand holding onto his shoulders tightly as his fingers thrusted inwardly. His angles changed ever so slightly, eliciting a feeling of anticipation. 

I wanted—no, I needed more. 

My hips bucked almost instinctively towards his hand. Incoherent babbles were all that were coming out of my mouth. Liam kissed the corners of my mouth, his wet kisses slowly trailing downwards. My breath hitched when Liam’s lips met a particular spot slightly above my collarbone. 

I could feel a smirk forming against my skin. Cheeky bastard. 

One particular thrust of Liam’s fingers made me jump, sending an intense feeling throughout my entire body. It felt as if I was having a heart attack, but without danger. My heart was racing, palpitations sending heavy vibrations throughout my body. The rate of my breathing increased rapidly, rising and the decreasing as the foreign, yet satisfying, feeling went away. 

Liam’s fingers pulled away gently as the intensity slowly dissipated.  

“You good, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” I panted. 

“Good.” Liam’s hand remained on my back. 

Liam’s face came close to mine once more until our lips met once more. His hands rose to my upper back, fumbling with the hooks of my bra until it came loose. The light under garment fell with ease. My hands instinctually fell over my chest. I’d never been exposed to this degree if front of anyone, it felt new. 

“None of that.” He gently pulled my arm down. “You look beautiful.” 

My breath hitched. His lips grazed my collarbones, going lower and lower. My hands raked him dark brown hair.  

Liam reached down to undue his belt, letting his jeans fall to the floor. His length looked firm, pressing against his boxers. 

His eyes flickered onto mine, as if he were silently asking me for permission. I nodded. Liam pulled me close. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I hadn’t anticipated the stretch I felt when Liam slowly pushed inside me.  

I took a sharp breath, my hands squeezing his shoulders. It hurt—it did. Liam did his best to accommodate that, moving slowly.  

Liam groaned softly, muttering obscenities. “Fuck...”  The pace wasn’t rushed—it was slow, but steady, slowly allowing the discomfort to be transformed to pleasure.  

I couldn’t believe it, genuinely. I was having sex, and in a pub bathroom no less. It wasn’t at all how Pastor Thomas had painted it out to be. This didn’t feel dirty or wrong, not at all. I felt connected, our pleasured sounds over taking the bathroom. 

It was simply too much. I caught sight of Liam’s damp forehead, his hair clinging onto his forehead. His pink-tinted swollen and moist lips kissed mine with ferocity. It was hard to keep up when his hips kept colliding with mine faster and faster... 

I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t think at all. I wasn’t even kissing Liam at this point, instead I gasped and moaned into his mouth.  

Liam’s pace quickened. “Fuckin’ hell... Yeah—fuck, so good...” Liam moaned. With a couple more sloppy thrusts, Liam let out throaty groan, his head falling on my shoulder. An intense feeling that I could only describe as pure euphoria took over. It felt like death. A heavenly way to die. My head tipped back once more; I was releasing sounds I didn’t even know I could make. I felt a warm, liquid-like substance filling me up. As soon as Liam soften inside me, he pulled out.  

As soon as he did, the liquid dripped down my thighs.  

I attempted to catch my breath, and he seemed to be doing the same. “You, okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah. You?” 

Liam nodded.  

There was a small moment of silence. It wasn’t awkward or anything, quite the opposite. 

“Reckon we’re proper filthy, eh?” Liam teased. 

I chuckled. “Yeah, I guess we are.” 

Liam helped with me get sorted with my clothes before getting to his. His hands shrugged mine off as he buttoned up my shirt. When he finished, his hands found my cheeks again. He didn’t kiss me this time, just looked at me, as if I was someone important. Someone worth looking at like that. 

My mind was racing, not with stress, just confusion. I wasn’t what this meant. Did this mean that my faith was tarnished?  

I enjoyed it, I did.  

What did it mean? 

[el-loy]

Along with the latest pic I've always wanted to share why ch12 is my favourite AK chapter, because... I've never actually talked about it, I guess? I know quite a lot of people regard this chapter as boring, slow-paced, overall skippable and uninteresting. But it is as “boring” as Remarque, as Hemingway, as any of the authors who wrote about the reality of war are. “All quiet on the western front” is literally in its title yet perhaps people expected something else from it, thus were left disappointed. Though blaming anyone would be weird because we all seek different things from the media we engage with. Ch12 matched my personal preferences and what I usually seek.

By default I am somewhat detached when reading fictional stories, while I'm able to appreciate a good plot, well-written dialogues and interactions, ideas etc. I can't always immerse in them in such a way that I can feel the moment. I often struggle with sympathizing with fictional characters, and when it's a piece of media like arknights I am completely unable to sympathize with the main characters who'll make it no matter what (the reason why Kal's “death” in ch15 didn't affect me). I have a hard time “feeling” the stories where everything is so grandiose, so pretentious and extra – I can't connect with that pretentiousness, it makes me laugh.

But there are things that never fail to touch me deeply – it's the stories that essentially boil down to the topic of loneliness and insignificance of a person in the eyes of history and Universe. And also I like finding something real and genuine in a media where I don't quite expect it. (Everyone liked ch14 for example, and it was good indeed, but to me it was something I expected: action-wise, emotion-wise, atmosphere-wise, that's why it failed to impress me and resonate with me on the same level ch12 did). Ch12 stood out to me for the exact reasons other ppl dislike it. It is slow-paced, heavy, hopeless, introspective. I think a lot about death and I seek media that explore this topic. I enjoy long monologues and I love existential themes, because it is what concerns me personally. I love authenticity. I need to feel what I'm reading/watching is real regardless of whether it's sci-fi, fantasy or, well, realism. And I am enjoying a story way more when it has the room to “think along”(?). Because of all this – I got to “feel” this chapter. And on the deepest level I felt it within the Damazti&Golding subplot. “Goodnight Golding” scene is legit one of my favourite ones in the whole AK, it was peak to me, it resonated with me, it touched me. Not because of the fact that Golding died, but because of the solemn atmosphere surrounding that moment, the melancholy, the crushing emptiness. Not because it was “heartbreaking”, but because it was hauntingly beautiful, how the Damazti shared that moment with her and how lonely it felt in relation to both characters. This is what sold them both to me, 'cause when a story explores such loneliness I can't help but love it and the characters involved. “I'm just so tired” lands heavier than any tragic deathbed speech and to me feels much more genuine. From what I've seen so far (maybe I'm just so unlucky) Golding is mostly being either overlooked in the fandom or actively disliked. People fail to remember her name and comprehend the meaning of her character. But this is exactly what she is about. She's essentially a “little man”, hers – is a perspective of an ordinary person without any superpowers, caught in the war, struggling, questioning the meaning of her work. When speaking about literature she also mentioned “I wasn't very attached to the protagonists, but I was indeed obsessed with those deaths.” And by “those deaths” she refers to heroic sacrifices for the sake of the protagonist which mesmerized her in the past. She used to imagine herself making a similar sacrifice, but she's not a hero. She's just a person, so very human, who made a very human mistake. Just a number in the statistics, but ch12 is all about such people. Fiction like that draws attention to them and lets us experience their fates too. Now, I didn't particularly care about the Damazti's character before ch12, but it's specifically their interactions with Golding that allowed me to rediscover them. Just how the writers draw our attention to the less fortunate and less heroic fates, the Damazti's attention, too, is not on the grand goals and personalities, they're searching for meaning and they don't shy away from doing it among the ordinary people, experiencing their lives and feelings. In that relation, to me Golding and Damazti are kind of like “a war fiction character” (/a typical ordinary ch12 char) and “the reader” who focuses on the said character. Just for comparison how they brush Eblana off with “you're too shallow, there's nothing to talk about with you” and their curiosity towards a simple teacher. Like, you read it and you get what kind of character they are. And it's my favourite kind.

As much as I enjoyed the Damazti's interactions with Logos, as much as I love their friendly dynamic, it's utterly unfair that all the credits regarding the former's char development usually go to him. Logos listened to them and suggested a solution to which the Damazti agreed precisely because of how Golding had influenced them. It's through her they could somewhat touch that feeling of “being human”. To them Golding is not just some name to get lost in their thousand-year-old memory, not a number in the statistics, but a person, a friend. And I can't help but be captivated by this. That's why I really wish Golding was appreciated more, (honestly along with the Damazti and ch12 in general) but I understand it's unrealistic, so I guess I'll just keep drawing stuff and providing on that front👍🏻👍🏻🤓

[im-probably-crying-rn-ngl]

some people say george isn't as good as the other "future wdcs" of his generation or he isn't even all that good in general. but don't you ever fucking forget the never ending terrible circumstances that plague his f1 career that he gets up and tries to beat every single damn race weekend. sadly i am also guilty of losing faith in him so as a reminder just some of george's achievements:

even before setting foot in f1, he won gp3 and f2 in his rookie seasons. he STILL holds the record for most points in a single season in one of the most competitive f2 grids ever.

williams in 2019 weren't capable of even getting a single point without 2 dsqs but george STILL out-qualified his teammate in all 20 races as a rookie.

in 2020 george sat down in a car he had never driven, put on shoes that didn't even fit him and STILL almost won the race. he continued his domination over his teammate this year.

george had one of the most impressive qualis in one of the slowest cars and brought williams to a front row start in a time where they were regularly knocked it q1. he earned his mr saturday title, multiple times. if mercedes weren't going to give him the seat, someone else would have.

in 2022 he was finally called up to go up against the most successful f1 driver in history in his team and he did his absolute best. to make it easy to visualise, george beat lewis this year by larger margin then nico rosberg did in 2016.

even in his scrappiest season in 2023, he matched the greatest qualifier in qualifying and in pace. he's one of lewis' closest ever teammates in both. this is lewis hamilton, the greatest of all time. there is literally no one else who could be a greater challenge for someone pulled up from the back marker of the grid.

multiple wdcs, drivers, commentators and tps have spoken about his talent. he continues to push to the limit in every car even if it fucks him over and even if it doesn't end up mattering. does he make mistakes? yes. but they don't at all take away from his skill.

mercedes already has their golden boy but if toto can't see that, then he can shine elsewhere. he has done what others have and more. he has the mentality because he knows what it means to pick yourself up even if you keep getting knocked down. he's a future champion and that's on that, all he needs is a car.

[spicyveggiesub]

[ENG] Revue Starlight -The STAGE Junior High- Rerise Pamphlet Interview

The pamphlet for Junior High's 4th (and for now, climactic and final) stage play, Rerise, included an interview with the whole cast, as well as handwritten messages from the Junior High cast to their roles. The images up there are the messages, the interview is just a wall of text you don't need to see that (and sorry for the ugly scans).

By the way, this pamphlet is ridiculously beautiful, and I don't say this lightly, I went through every pamphlet I own so that I could say this with confidence: I think it's the prettiest one so far in the history of Starlight!!!! If you like the Junior High/Romana or even just like any of the cast member's faces at all I think it is very much worth buying and a great way to show support (you can still get it here)

Translation under the cut!

HINA AOKI

Looking back on the activities for "The STAGE Junior High", what left the strongest impression on you?

During the third play, Remains, the five of us in the Junior High were all so braindead when we were done with rehearsal, we laid down on the stage and just talked about a ton of stupid things with each other. That's what I remember the most. It's a really small and mundane thing, but the time we spent laughing with each other like that felt really precious to me.

The title of this play is Rerise. Do you do anything special to boost your mood and make yourself Rerise?

When I'm feeling anxious or frustrated, I start writing on paper or on my phone, and try to visualize the emotions in my head at that moment. If I don't know the root cause of why I feel a certain way, I'll keep thinking about it forever, so I try to calm myself down by visualizing it and making it easier to understand.

What does shining on stage mean to you?

I think rather than standing on stage while thinking "I'll shine!", enjoying the stage myself first and foremost will lead to shining on stage. Acting together with my friends, the lighting, the audio, and embellishments like that, when all of those factors align and I feel so incredibly good—sometimes I think that might be when I shine.

This is a segment where we give thanks in a relay format. What do you want to say "thank you" for?

TO YURIA SATO

Thank you for always being exactly who you are, I guess (lol). When I'm in front of you, Satoyuri, I can be myself as well, and having someone like that by my side really helps me be less stressed. You laze around when you need to, but when it's time to get to work you can get into it easily, so you're a dependable member.

Please say a word to everyone who came to the theater.

Thank you for coming to watch. The Junior High stage play series has finally reached its fourth work as well. We hesitate, fight, and grow. We'll try our absolute best to polish the raw gems each of us hold, and show you all the best stage, and a dazzling brilliance!

KANON MATSUZAWA

Looking back on the activities for "The STAGE Junior High", what left the strongest impression on you?

There are so many memories, but it has to be when we were so tired after rehearsal that we all laid down and talked for almost an hour straight. No one tried to get up, and we just talked about stupid things and laughed.

The title of this play is Rerise. Do you do anything special to boost your mood and make yourself Rerise?

I play with and sniff my dog.

He smells like the sun and is so cute he could save the world.

What does shining on stage mean to you?

I think it's the ability to make people feel like the character is alive on stage. I think people who can make the audience forget about reality and feel like they're totally inside of their world are amazing. And, I think that people who can make the audience smile are people who shine on stage.

This is a segment where we give thanks in a relay format. What do you want to say "thank you" for?

TO HINA AOKI

Thank you for always listening to me talk, even when it's about something stupid. You're like an older sister to me, and I love how you're always so clear and decisive about everything (lol).

I love your face when you laugh to your heart's content, so I'll keep on making you laugh, Hinapiyo. Let's keep laughing forever 😊

Please say a word to everyone who came to the theater.

Thank you for coming to watch. This is the fourth play, and first of all, I never even imagined that the Junior High-focused plays would continue this far, so I'm full of gratitude. While chewing on that feeling, I'll try my best acting with Shiro and my friends to show you how much I've grown. Finally, I hope that everyone will be able to reach the final performance with smiles on their faces✨

RUKA FUKAGAWA

Looking back on the activities for "The STAGE Junior High", what left the strongest impression on you?

Starlight stage plays have acting and fighting and singing and dancing. Every time I faced this work with so many things in one package, I ended up at my wit's end with so many different parts of it. But the Junior High are five! The five of us all have different strengths, weaknesses, feelings, and things to offer. I'm grateful that we were able to put on plays and concerts and the like every year, and every time I gain new memories. That's what I remember the most!

The title of this play is Rerise. Do you do anything special to boost your mood and make yourself Rerise?

I just sleep! When I'm at an impasse, no matter how much I think about it, if my brain is tired, I can't come up with a good answer, and if I keep making my tired body move it could lead to something unexpected, so even if it's just a nap, I sleep and give my brain a rest! It's simple, but we are humans! We have to give in to the workings of our bodies!

What does shining on stage mean to you?

I think it's when I feel the flow and atmosphere of things and feel satisfied with my own acting and I feel like I'm having so much fun that I can't handle it, but that's just me feeling good and it might not reach the audience fully. I think that if I could make myself, the audience, and even my co-stars who play my opponents feel the same way, if I could capture the gazes of everyone from atop the stage, then I would be shining the brightest.

This is a segment where we give thanks in a relay format. What do you want to say "thank you" for?

TO KANON MATSUZAWA

Zawa (Matsuzawa) is maybe the person who understands me the most, or rather a great person to ask for advice. I often talk to her about things from my private life to work related things, and she thinks differently from me, so she always gives me a fresh perspective, or I feel better because she listened to me, she's truly always helping me out…

Thank you Zawa…

Please say a word to everyone who came to the theater.

After watching Remains, you must have thought, what will happen to Ryoko, and the discord between Siegfeld and Romana…! All of you in the Stage Production Department who were on the edge of your seats for about a year… we're finally here! In this production, Ryoko fights to find her own brilliance, and everyone else faces their own worries and feelings. Enjoy it to the fullest!

KOKORO KUGE

Looking back on the activities for "The STAGE Junior High", what left the strongest impression on you?

The "Revue of the First Star" with Kuina in Remains. Satoyuri and I ran around the practice room while singing in order to build up our stamina! It was the first time in the Junior High that only two people sang a Revue song together, and an important scene that lead to a big change and moment of growth for Minku-chan, and I'm thankful to Satoyuri for rehearsing it with me so much.

The title of this play is Rerise. Do you do anything special to boost your mood and make yourself Rerise?

During the play's run, I just made sure to sleep properly! Sleeping puts your brain in order and is the most important thing for helping your body recover. I don't really have a routine that I have to do before a performance starts. I'd become anxious if I couldn't do something like that, so instead I just keep going as usual and start feeling like "It's time to shine!". Maybe it's about the same for Minku-chan too~

What does shining on stage mean to you?

As Minku-chan and as Kuge myself, it's to stand on stage while thinking "I love the stage!". I put that feeling of love into my voice and body, and I believe that it'll reach the audience in the form of brilliance. To borrow a line that's been in Starlight, sometimes I really believe that "the stage is responding". I think that I'm probably shining in those moments☆

This is a segment where we give thanks in a relay format. What do you want to say "thank you" for?

TO RUKA FUKAGAWA

Ruka-chan♡♡ You're always with us with your casual and carefree attitude and you're like a cute little sister to all of us in the Junior High. I'm always healed by your cuteness~. Thank youu!! I love you just as you are!! Please keep being you, Ruka-chan.

Please say a word to everyone who came to the theater.

It's already the fourth production where I've been able to shine together with the Junior High and Minku-chan. Having the chance to be watched over by so many people for such a long time really makes me happy as a Stage Girl. I still want to shine more as Minku, in her casual and carefree way☆ The five of us will try our hardest to take on challenges with one heart. Please watch over us from your seats in the audience.

YURIA SATO

Looking back on the activities for "The STAGE Junior High", what left the strongest impression on you?

This question just made me jump because it makes it sound like this is the last play, but it can't be the end… right?! My answer is pretty unremarkable, but I think it's going home or going out to eat with all five of the Junior High after practice. We're always going at our own pace in our own different ways (lol). Personally, I think it's amazing how much we've changed through working together, to this point where the five of us can do individual things collectively like that.

The title of this play is Rerise. Do you do anything special to boost your mood and make yourself Rerise?

For some reason, I listen to a lot of radio shows. When you're worried and feeling down, don't the words from a completely unrelated party hit you the hardest? When I listen to episodes where they give advice and stuff, it makes me think, wow, there are a lot of people in different places in this world working really hard to live in their own ways. And then I think, maybe other people see me as someone who works hard too..? And it's pretty nice.

What does shining on stage mean to you?

Maintaining the awareness that I'm a Stage Girl. The time when I studied so hard at my desk as a student, and the time when I swayed in a fully packed train every morning as a new grad OL. While embracing those as part of my past, I stand on stage with the determination to no longer be that person I was, and to be someone who lives on stage, where I'm being watched by others. That honest and direct feeling shines, I'm sure!

This is a segment where we give thanks in a relay format. What do you want to say "thank you" for?

TO KOKORO KUGE

When I didn't know my left from my right when it came to acting, and I thought for the first time in the first Junior High play, "Giving and receiving lines on stage is fun!", I'm sure it was because you were my partner, and you love acting so much, Kokoro-chan. We're the only ones who can be Minkuina. Thank you for being the best Minku-chan! Let's keep working hard together!

Please say a word to everyone who came to the theater.

Thank you very much for coming to watch this production! I started my life as an actor together with Kuina, and I've slowly encountered various roles since then. But in the end, her honesty and strong feelings always move my heart, and she always brings me back to how I felt at the beginning, so she's a special role to me. As always, I'll try to play her with the utmost care. Please look forward to it!

YUI KANARI

Looking back on the activities for "The STAGE Junior High", what left the strongest impression on you?

During rehearsals and the play period, we the five of us in Romana had review meetings about our dancing. In order to make sure our lines of sight, the height of our hips, how sharp our moves were, and everything else you could possibly think of felt in sync, we rewatched our videos over and over again and tried out different solutions together. Thinking back on it now, it felt like a really Romana-like conversation.

The title of this play is Rerise. Do you do anything special to boost your mood and make yourself Rerise?

I make some time for myself to do absolutely nothing and think about absolutely nothing. When I'm worried about something, I end up only being able to think about it from a very biased point of view, so I try to divorce myself from the thing that I'm thinking about for a bit so I can think about it objectively. I do different things depending on what's going on, but to be specific, I slept for 18 hours before.

What does shining on stage mean to you?

I think that someone working hard or trying to overcome something shines. I don't just mean the brilliance you can feel watching a character in a story work hard and grow. As an actor, I'm always facing the stage and acting to the best of my ability, and I think that gives birth to brilliance that reaches the audience.

This is a segment where we give thanks in a relay format. What do you want to say "thank you" for?

TO REI SONODA

Thank you for being my comrade in crying too easily. We were both taking part in our first play, and we both cried in rehearsals because we were too nervous about various things. But I could tell that you were crying so that you could move forward, Sono-chan, so seeing you like that helped motivate me to work hard as well. You're so human, and I love it. Let's keep on working hard together!

Please say a word to everyone who came to the theater.

Thank you for coming to watch! A play wouldn't be able to exist if it weren't for you who come to watch it. I'd be happy if you would continue to create the stage together with us.

KANON NAKAZAKI

Looking back on the activities for "The STAGE Junior High", what left the strongest impression on you?

It was the first time I'd experienced this full combo of fighting, singing, dancing, and acting. It was packed full of expressions that I love, so I was happy. Also, when we practiced singing Remains, one time all of Romana faced the Junior High while singing, and the energy in front of me and beside me was amazing, and it really hit me that we were creating one production all together, and it left a deep impression on me.

The title of this play is Rerise. Do you do anything special to boost your mood and make yourself Rerise?

I jam out to the music I love on full blast. I move around and work out. But I don't know if I'm doing the exercises properly… Satoyuri-san, please teach me!!! Let me join the workout club!

What does shining on stage mean to you?

Looking confident even if I'm not. If I do that, I slowly grow more confident, and before I can even realize it, I'm not Kanon Nakazaki anymore. I think that if I can have fun, then the people who watch me will have fun too, so I try my best to resolve all the things I'm worried about with everyone's help in rehearsals, and when it's time for the real show, I just try to enjoy and live as the role. That's what I try to keep in mind.

This is a segment where we give thanks in a relay format. What do you want to say "thank you" for?

TO YUI KANARI

Kanarin, I receive a lot of things from the Mikoto you play. Even when you're not in character, sometimes I think that you're pretty similar to her, and it makes me happy (lol). Thank you for always giving me motivation!! Let's keep working hard together✊

Please say a word to everyone who came to the theater.

Thank you for coming to watch! Continuing from last year, I'm really happy that I can stand in front of you all as Naoe Haruka from Romana Scuola d'Arte Drammatica once again. I'll sweep through all the performances at full power so that all of you can bathe in tons of brilliance!

CHIKANA ANDO

Looking back on the activities for "The STAGE Junior High", what left the strongest impression on you?

The first play.

If not for the Junior High, Romana wouldn't have come into existence, and when I think about that, I feel grateful to the Junior High members, staff, and all of you fans who have built up their story thus far. When you watch them from the first play, you can see how much they grow over time, and I think that's amazing. It makes me think that I need to work hard too.

The title of this play is Rerise. Do you do anything special to boost your mood and make yourself Rerise?

I don't really have a set routine, but when I'm nervous, or right before a scene starts, I hit my face and chest as much as I want. It helps me feel less nervous and gets me pumped up.

What does shining on stage mean to you?

I try to get whatever I'm trying to act out as that role 100% across to the audience. It's the character who stands on stage, not me, so if the audience can feel that fully, I think that's when I shine, and if there's an actor like that I find myself captivated by them.

This is a segment where we give thanks in a relay format. What do you want to say "thank you" for?

TO KANON NAKAZAKI

What a fun idea!! I'm thankful to Nakachi for giving so much energy to everyone in the Romana group! And, I think she's amazing for being able to say such difficult phrases so smoothly. The role she plays is so cool, but she herself is always so silly, and it's so cute and lovable (lol). Thank you for everything!

Please say a word to everyone who came to the theater.

Thank you for coming to watch! I'm very happy that I can appear as part of Romana again. I'll do my best so this can become a production that remains in your memory!

MEINA HAMAKAWA

Looking back on the activities for "The STAGE Junior High", what left the strongest impression on you?

They're all such precious memories, but I think it would have to be when we got a standing ovation for the final performance… No, it's when I saw everyone in the audience for the first time on the first day… No, but when we went into the audience during the concert part for the first time too… I can't choose, but all of the moments when I met eyes with the audience members who received our brilliance made me so happy, and I'll never forget them.

The title of this play is Rerise. Do you do anything special to boost your mood and make yourself Rerise?

When I'm feeling down, I sleep or eat something sweet! Also, before a performance starts, I always listen to Kukugumi-san's songs!! It helps me become a shining stage girl, and soothes the stomachache I get from being nervous… I always listen to "Butai Shoujo Kokoroe", "Watashitachi wa Mou Butai no Ue", "Hoshi no Dialogue", and "Star Parade" when I'm on my way there too!

What does shining on stage mean to you?

Enjoying the moments of living out the story on stage desperately, from the bottom of my heart. Right now at least, I think that's what it means to shine. But I think there must be other answers, too… Brilliance is kind of like, when you keep searching for your own answer, and stand on stage with a strong desire to shine, it's something born through that process. I think maybe that's brilliance too.

This is a segment where we give thanks in a relay format. What do you want to say "thank you" for?

TO CHIKANA ANDO

Naso-chan-sensei!! Thank you so much for teaching me things about dancing and stage fighting!! You're the strongest boss in Romana behind the scenes!!! You're always so cool!!!!! I love you!!!!!!

Please say a word to everyone who came to the theater.

I'm so happy and grateful that we at Romana Scuola d'Arte Drammatica, who only just joined in last year's play, Remains, received so many warm words of support. I turned those feelings into my driving force and worked hard in rehearsals, so I'd be happy if you all bathed in our powered up brilliance to your heart's content…!

REI SONODA

Looking back on the activities for "The STAGE Junior High", what left the strongest impression on you?

When I did special training on how to run. Until the play, I didn't know that the way I ran was different from everyone else's… Maybe that's why I was always so slow. I'm greatly indebted to Coach Chikanaso and Master Satoyuri. Thank you very much. I'll [she used ore here] take first place in track and field. (No I won't)

The title of this play is Rerise. Do you do anything special to boost your mood and make yourself Rerise?

If I'm in a space where I'm alone, saying something like "I'M GONNA MOVE!" or "I'M GONNA START WORKING NOW!!" helps my brain switch up and start moving. If I'm around others, chanting "everything has an end once you start it" in my head makes me feel like I'm the strongest no matter what situation I'm in.

What does shining on stage mean to you?

Going in pursuit of the role's life at full speed, and trying to be that role endlessly, is what I think it means to shine! I think that desperation is dazzling, and I want to be that desperate myself.

This is a segment where we give thanks in a relay format. What do you want to say "thank you" for?

TO MEINA HAMAKAWA

Meina, thank you for gifting me macarons for my birthday♡ There were orange and purple macarons, and we talked about it like "It's Jurina and Nadeshiko's colors~", too. They were so yummy! Thank you for the meal! Look forward to your present in return, too~!

Please say a word to everyone who came to the theater.

Thank you so much! For coming to watch! I'll devote my whole body and soul to living as Jurina, and try my best to make your hearts Rerise with Jurina's brilliance! 奴樽出! 釜死樽出! (I'll get it done! I'll kill it!) Thank you. [to explain this, she wrote yattarude and kamashitarude, which are Kansai-ben, and then wrote them as fake kanji, for the yankee manga vibes, I guess]

ARISA SHINOHARA AS KUROMI SAIKAWA

Looking back on the activities for "The STAGE Junior High", what left the strongest impression on you?

There's a lot… it's hard to pick just one (lol). The more recent things come to me first, so… In that case, it's the intermissions for the 13 performances of Remains, I guess. I've been asked to do them since the first play, and for the first and second, there were other ensemble members included, but for the third we couldn't do that… So I thought really hard about what I should do to entertain the audience, and that's what I remember most. It was fun.

The title of this play is Rerise. Do you do anything special to boost your mood and make yourself Rerise?

I'm pretty good at convincing myself of things to begin with…

(If I say "It doesn't hurt!!" when my stomach hurts, it stops hurting). So, when I need to snap myself out of it, say "Ah… Enough already! Yeah!! It's fine!!" and make myself listen, and then I feel better pretty quickly. If that doesn't work, then I beat my chest a ton. It's really loud. It's pretty wild, huh (lol).

What does shining on stage mean to you?

For me, I think it's "eyes and gaze". When I was in school, I was once told, "walk while thinking that someone else is watching you". When you do that, it makes you picture a circle of energy surrounding you. And when dancing and acting too, when my eyes "LOCK ON!!!" to my target, it feels like, I'm shining~!!! (lol).

MESSAGES

To Ryoko

I think your tendency to give in to those around you and your humble nature are good things,

but your exceptionally strong feelings for the stage are the most dazzling to me, and I really respect them.

Find the the brilliance you have within yourself, and make sure you never lose it.

From Ruka

To Shiro

At first, you felt really distant from me,

but since we've grown so much together, I feel like we've gotten a little closer now.

Your perfectionist, unyielding, tall back is always shining, Shiro.

But in truth, you have more love in you than anyone else, and I love you for that.

Let's keep aiming for greater heights.

From Kanon

To Stella

Your strength and weakness and kindness, all of it is so lovable to me.

You're filled to the brim with love, and I love you!

Let's keep seeing various kinds of brilliance together!

From Hina☆

Dear Kuina ♡♡♡

I love the down to earth and hardworking you!

You're the greatest Stage Girl, being able to turn your weakness of self-centeredness into your strength.

Hard work and muscles won't betray you, am I right😊💪

In the end, the person who's built up the most over time is the strongest!!!! Let's keep on running straight ahead.

From Satoyuri

To Minku-chan

Thank you for letting me meet so many roles and Stage Girls!

Your ability to smile and give others energy

has helped me so much. You're my brightest star☆

I hope we'll be able to see more exciting views together in the future.

I love you!

From Kokoro♡

Script and Lyrics

Ohine Ezaki

Hello, I'm Ohine Ezaki. It's been a year since "Remains". You've all waited a long time. Finally, the second chapter of the Junior High's story is complete.

The Junior High stage plays can only be performed thanks to the support of many people. I put my gratitude towards the cast, staff, and all of you in the Stage Production Department who have helped us up until this point, into the script and lyrics. You could even say this is a culmination of everything we've done until now.

Please watch until the end to see what "answer" Siegfeld Institute of Music Junior High and Romana Scuola d'Arte Drammatica arrive at.

I hope that after you watch the play, a rainbow hangs in the sky after the rain.

PROFILE

He has written many scripts for theater troupes and units, and is known for writing plays with dense dialogue. From music readers theaters which combine live band music with live reading; to theater that combines ballet, Japanese dance, orchestra, and reading; he has staged many productions related to "sound".

He works not only in theater, but also on anime projects, and in Shoujo☆Kageki Revue Starlight, he's in charge of the script and direction of the Starira readers theaters.

Direction

Takehiro Yoshida

I'm very happy to be able to direct for a series I personally love, and I also feel the responsibility that comes with that. I'd like to make this production soar to great heights with the brilliance of the play, the cast, the staff, and everyone involved.

I hope you enjoy it to the fullest until the end.

PROFILE

Having worked on scripts and directing for many productions in various genres, he's reputed for constructing flashy and beautiful worlds with the theme of "a view that can only be seen on stage".

In Shoujo☆Kageki Revue Starlight, he was in charge of -Edel Bühne- ~Readers Theater Elysion - Chapter of Gods~.

(JP text)

[szoboobszlai]

THEY DON’T KNOW ABOUT US

word counter: +1,8k

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x physiotherapist!female reader

warnings: none!

author’s note: hey everyone! first of all, i just wanted to wish you a very happy new year; 2024 was absolutely amazing for me, and having your notes and feedback on my writing is something that really made me grateful, so, THANK YOU!

this is a new part of my one direction lyric-based writing series, that you can find here. also, click here for my full masterlist.

liverpool football club has always been more than just a job for you. as the team’s physiotherapist, you loved every moment, every pass, every win and loss. it was your place, your purpose. but what you didn’t expect was that football would bring you face to face with a completely different kind of challenge.

trent alexander-arnold. his name echoed in your head constantly since he started being your patient. the young player, with an impressive skill, an unwavering dedication to the team, but also a quiet, enigmatic energy, something you always noticed but never dared to explore.

it all started with an ankle injury trent had. the need for more intense care meant you were the one who treated him most often. the physiotherapy sessions became moments of conversation that went beyond what was necessary; you talked about games, the team, the season’s expectations… but slowly, you started sharing more than just that.

“do you really think this injury is going to take us out of the title race?” trent asked one day, as you applied ice to his ankle, his brown eyes meeting yours.

“you’re strong enough to overcome this, and you know liverpool needs you.” you said, smiling at him, trying to stay professional, but there was something in his gaze that made you feel there was more to it. “you can’t give up now, trent.”

he laughed, a genuine smile that made your heart beat faster. “you know, you always talk like you’re our mental therapist, not just the physical one.”

“i am, i am.” you laughed back, trying to push the growing tension between you both aside.

but, in your hearts, you knew it was more than just a professional relationship. with every touch during the treatment, every furtive glance, the connection grew stronger. you couldn’t deny what you were feeling, but you both knew that something so delicate needed to be kept secret. what would people say about a physiotherapist and a football player being involved? the club, the teammates, the fans… no one would understand.

the view of his smile echoed in your mind when you thought about what was beginning to grow between you two — you had shared so many moments, but never in front of others. on the field, he was the icon, the standout player. you, just the physiotherapist who, with skilled hands, helped the team stay on their feet. but when you met in private, away from the curious eyes and microphones, it felt like the world was too small for the two souls that had found each other.

it was on an autumn night, after a hard game, that the tension between you two finally overflowed. liverpool had won, but trent, still exhausted, was feeling the pain in his legs. you followed him to the locker room for one last check, knowing he was in good shape, but also aware of how physically affected he might be.

after the treatment, you found yourselves alone, a rare moment in the busy routine of training and games. he looked at you, his brown eyes deep, locking with yours. the silence between you both grew heavy.

“y/n…” he began, his voice low, hesitant. “i need to tell you something.”

you felt your heart race, the professionalism you always maintained starting to waver in the face of the intensity of the moment.

“i have something to tell you too.” you smiled, trying to stay calm, but the anxiety took over you. you both knew what was about to happen. you were about to cross the thin line between what was acceptable and what was risky.

trent took a step closer, his hands now intertwining with yours. “they don’t know about us, y/n. no one knows how real this is.” he moved even closer, until your lips met for the first time, softly, like a silent promise.

the kiss was quick, but it was etched in your memory. it felt like time had stopped. but when you pulled away, the world started spinning again, and you were back in reality: you were hidden.

“i think we need to be careful,” you whispered as you pulled back slightly, trying to breathe.

“i know, but i can’t act like it’s not real anymore.” trent said, sincerity in his eyes. “i need you, y/n. but if this is too much for you…”

you interrupted him, smiling at him. “i need you too. but let’s keep this between us. just the two of us.”

in the following days, the tension grew in a different way: the chemistry between you was more visible than ever, but no one spoke of it. you and trent continued with your routine, keeping up the professional facade in front of everyone else. but with each meeting, each furtive glance, the connection between you two grew even more. you were being careful, trying to hide what no one could know.

this is how things had to be. a secret shared only between you two. when trent felt weak, you were his strength. when he won, you were there to celebrate, silently, always by his side, but never visible to others.

and even though the outside world didn’t know, you both knew what you had. a love no one could understand, but that remained strong despite the external pressures. a love that, no matter how much the world tried to ignore, was unbreakable.

and maybe that’s what made what you had even more special. the secret you shared in the glances and the silences. you both knew that, in the end, what mattered was what was between you. and that, no one could ever take away.

[leilianii]

Hello, I saw your post that you uploaded about Paul's writings😭😭😭, so I wanted to ask if you could make one of Paul x actress reader, I don't know, maybe he's going to see it behind the scenes or I don't know

REQUESTED: so i kind of got carried away with this, and i actually kind of love it. i'm deciding on whether or not i should make it a series, never done one before though😭 anyways...let me know what you guys think.

pairing: paul mescal x reader (fluff)

warnings: none

description: close, but not close enough follows two popular actors, you and paul, navigating a close friendship complicated by rumors and paparazzi. after a wild night, you both deal with the fallout of being misinterpreted as a couple, despite only wanting to stay friends. you both navigate your friendship with humor, understanding, and subtle flirtations, ultimately realizing how much you mean to each other.

word count: 2.2k

title: close, but not close enough.

song: lowkey by rochelle jordan

you wake up with a throbbing headache, which reminds you of the things that occurred last night but before you have time to reminisce… you all of a sudden have the urge to vomit. you quickly run to your bathroom and puke your organs out, it feels like never-ending vomit.

you’re about three minutes into just pure retching when you feel a pair of hands on ur shoulders, you’re too out of it to care who’s touching you, you just take the support and continue with your business. eventually the person’s hands pull back your hair, and as they graze over your neck that’s when you realize whose hands those belongs to

“PAUL? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?” you yell.

“jesus fucking christ, i slept over. do you mind?” he responds back

“do i mind? this is my house.” you respond lowering your voice. “do i mind?” repeating the sentence again wondering where he found the audacity.

“listen, i’m sure you remember we were all drunk. the others were able to get dd’s but i forgot to beforehand and when i tried to call an uber they hung up on me. i slept on the couch, don’t worry.” paul said clearly, trying not to piss you off any more.

“gosh paul, you know you can’t do shit like this. what if the paparazzi catches you leaving my house? i really don’t need another rumor going around.” you say, completely calm now.

“yeah, you’re right i’m sorry but at least we’re saving gas today.” he responds back, clearly not that sorry.

“pfhaha you think we’re driving to set together? you’re out of your mind, you sir are going back to your house and getting your own car.” you say matter-of-factly.

“really? you hate me that much?”

“yes..” you say watching his expression get mad. “now go get your stuff and i’ll see you in a bit.”

“fine whatever, hope you get even sicker.” he says as he walks out of your bedroom.

“FUCK YOU!” you yell back. you hear his laughter from across the house.

“love you too!” he says as the front door opens and closes.

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you and paul are both very popular actors, you guys have worked on a project once before and both of you guys are back to do another. he was one of your best friends and you genuinely enjoyed his presence but unfortunately because of the first film you guys filmed which was a romance, so many people have ‘shipped’ you guys together including fans, directors, writers and even your mutuals. it can be so frustrating when so many people want you together. you and paul of course don’t like each other, only friend feelings there, however you obviously take on more responsibility between the two of you, making sure that what you do doesn’t give people the wrong impression. unfortunately for you, paul doesn’t care at all.

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“i’m saying that we can’t be publicly hanging out, people will get the wrong impression” you say over the phone, currently on facetime with him.”

“who gives a shit? i mean we know exactly what we are and what we aren’t, people are going to come up with their own impressions anyways so we should just be ourselves.” paul responds not understanding your worry.

“yeah, i know but i don’t want to have to always worry about our outings being the headline of the next ‘people’ magazine” you say trying to get him to understand.

“we’re already in the ‘people’ magazine.” pauls retorts.

“okay, well this is my decision whether or not you agree with it. only private hangouts from now on.”

“fine,” pauls says clearly not happy with your decision “maybe we should just fake date and like give them what they want and then we’ll break up and no one will care about us again”

“you’re actually insane for that, tell me that wasn’t an actual thought of yours.” you chuckle.

“i’m just trying to think of ways where i can enjoy the company of one of my best friends.”

“i just told you, private hangouts. there’s no way around it, that’s that.” you say sternly.

“you’re hot when you’re serious.” paul says, expecting a reaction from you.

“okay and that’s where we end this call, talk to you never.”

“mhm, love you too sweetie.”

that conversation happened about three months ago and you must say, paul had done an excellent job making sure you guys were never seen together. that’s one of the things you loved most about him, he may not be happy with your decisions but he’ll always respect and follow them. you know paul loves you and just wants to hang out with his best friend, but you can’t afford the damage of one misinterpreted photo affecting you for months out of your life. paul may not know it now, but this decision is benefiting him a lot.

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you took a shower right after paul left, you definitely needed it especially with all the vomit on you. you took your hangover medications that you’ve had for years. 

after your shower, you got into some comfy clothes and tied your hair up. you didn’t feel like putting in any effort to your appearance today, especially since paul already saw you this rough.  you grab your keys, wallet and phone and head out the door. you walk to a coffee shop and order a matcha latte and have an uber pick you up and take you to set. 

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the uber has dropped you off, and you make your way to set. as you walk past everyone, you’re getting so many awkward looks. the tension is extremely high, you walk past your favorite producer and he just puts his head down. finally, you make it to your chair only to be interrupted.

“hey, umm the director wants to see you…” emily says awkwardly, she’s the director’s assistant.

“okay, where is he?” you ask.

“he’s over by the food.”

“mkay, thanks.” you respond as you start making your way to the food area.

on your way there you bump into paul…he sure knows how to clean up.

“hey, you heading to steve?” he asks.

“what? yeah, are you?” you ask clearly confused.

“yeah, emily told me he wanted to see me. you think we’re in trouble?” he asks.

“i mean we haven’t done anything wrong so he probably just wants to talk about a scene or something.”

“maybe, did you see how people were staring when you walked in?”

“yeah it was super weird, they did it to you too?” you ask him.

“yeah, they did.” 

you arrive at the food area and you see your director, steve. he’s grabbing some grapes and putting them on his plate. you and paul both give each other a stare and start walking towards him. you notice that some people around you were staring as you went up to steve.

“sir, you wanted to see us?” you say as you lightly tap his shoulder.

“ahh, hello guys. yes, i did want to see you both. i just wanted to remind you guys that dating while filming is not my preference, and although we’re almost finished shooting i will not hesitate to replace you guys.”

“i’m sorry…what?” paul asks, clearly upset.

“yeah, where is all of this coming from?” you ask irritated.

“next time you guys sleep together, try to be a little more sneaky.” he says as he throws a phone on the table and walks away.

you and paul both go to look what’s on the phone and to your disdain it’s ‘people’ magazine with the big and bold title of  “actor, paul mescal, was seen leaving co-stars apartment, proving all of the rumors true.” and right below that, is a picture of paul looking straight into the camera, only a block away from your apartment.

“fuuuuuuuuck” paul almost whispers.

“you’ve got to be shitting me. this is fucking ridiculous.” you say.

“listen, i’m so sorry. i really tried to be sneaky.”

“no, it’s not your fault. i knew this would happen eventually, i was just hoping it would be after we wrapped.” you say disappointedly.

“well, i guess we just have to explain ourselves to steve and hope for the best.”

“yeah, i guess so.” you sigh.

you honestly weren’t mad at paul at all, after all it’s not like he was the one who made these pictures surface. but you were however, mad at everyone else for believing that shit. you had assumed that over the year and a half you’ve worked with these people, they would be able to figure out what was false and what wasn’t. of course, you were wrong in that thinking…

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

you had just finished wrapping up filming for the day, you were so exhausted and honestly all you wanted to do was go home and get drunk again.

“hey, you did a great job today.” paul says, interrupting your thoughts.

“thank you paul, as did you,” you think for a moment “you wanna come over and have a drink?”

paul laughs. “you’re joking right?”

“what? why would i be joking?”

“well i mean you’re the one that’s always saying we can’t be seen together.” paul says, chuckling.

“well, we’ve already been ‘seen’ together so let’s just enjoy ourselves.” you say, really wanting some company.

“god, if only someone had said that before.” paul says sarcastically.

“are you coming or not?”

“sureee, since you want me sooo bad.” paul says teasingly.

“yeah yeah, fuck you.”

you grab your stuff and walk off set with paul. “did you bring your car?” you ask paul.

“no i got an uber this morning.” he responded.

“mmm okay, well i’ll give you a ride then.” you say.

you open your car door and paul walks over to left side, getting into the passenger seat. you both are in the car and you turn the heater on because of how cold it was. you have paul put on some music and you head back to your apartment. the music honestly became useless considering you guys were chatting the whole time, mostly talking about the rumors going around. 

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

you eventually arrive at your apartment, both you and paul get out of the car. you unlock the gate and head inside, taking off your slides once you reach your front door. you unlock your door and let paul shut and lock it.

“i’m going to get in some more comfortable clothes, liquor’s in that cabinet.” you say pointing your finger to a cabinet right above the fridge.”

“alright.” pauls responds.

you quickly go in your room and grab some loose shorts and a hoodie, changing your socks as well. you make your way to the kitchen and find two glasses of wine. you loved wine.

“good choice paul good choice.”

“what can i say? i know you better than you give me credit for.”

“it sure appears that way,” you say in response. “come on let’s go sit on the couch, i’ll put on a movie.”

you and paul head to the couch sitting next to each other, you grab the remote and turn on the tv scrolling through peacock.

“mmm, we should watch ‘speak no evil’ it just came out” you say.

“yep, that’s fine by me.” paul says.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“why the fuck wouldn’t they just go through the front door?!” you say, upset over the character’s choice.

you’re about an hour into the movie and seven glasses of wine into the night. over the night you and paul had managed to scoot closer to each other, you lay your head on his shoulder as you continue to watch the movie. you’re a lightweight when it comes to alcohol which is why you only ever drink around paul, you find yourself staring at paul as he’s watching the movie. his blue eyes appear darker than they actually are and his skin lighting up with every flash of the movie. paul eventually turns to face you, both of you just staring at each other. you look down at his lips as he looks down at yours, you bite the inside of your cheek. you continue to hold his gaze before finally returning back to the movie.

the movie comes to the end, and you guys both shuffle around. paul stretching and you doing the opposite, you were so tired. all you wanted to do right now was fall asleep. “paul, take me to my room please.” you ask, not even thinking about it.

“yes ma’am” paul responds as he picks you up and carries you to your room, laying you down on your comfortable and unmade bed. as soon as your body hits that mattress, a sense of relaxation clouds your body. you mumble a ‘thank you’ to him as you slowly drift off. 

“i’ll see you tomorrow then,” paul says as he walks to your door, he pauses for a moment before saying 

“i enjoy you so much, you don’t even understand.” 

“me too paul,” you tiredly mumble. “i love you, see you tomorrow.”

“goodnight lovely girl.”

hope you guys liked this, let me know if i should make it a series💕

requests and dms are opened, feel free to get in touch. also just turned on anonymous requests, i wanted to keep your thoughts private. love you guys !!

[cloudslou]

Abbi Pulling is on track for greatness

Abbi Pulling has a racing-related confession to make. “I've gotten worse at Mario Kart with age. Now I always lose,” the 22-year-old F1 Academy champion, whose go-to racer is Baby Yoshi, tells me. She’s quick to pinpoint her weaknesses though, as a racing driver would to their engineer. “I've not quite got the drifting right with the power boost,” she says. “And I always jump the start.”

Fortunately no such niggling console game difficulties exist when it comes to her actual driving skills. Pulling started racing actual karts when she was eight – taking a lead from her father, Andy, who used to race motorbikes – and has been winning titles ever since.

“When I excelled in my karting career, it was me and my dad,” she says. “He'd get the kart ready perfectly and we just knew how to communicate with each other.”

To get to where she is now, currently racing in GB3 Championship with Rodin Motorsport in a fully funded seat, Pulling has made her way up the motor-racing ladder, making a habit of winning, be it in Ginetta Junior, F4 British through to the W Series, which afforded her a big break in F1 Academy in 2023. In her house, one room is basically a shrine of trophies. “I don't know where you'd put them, I probably need a cabinet.” Instead, she’s prioritised something “probably actually cooler” than her trophy haul – a full huge oil painting by Paul Oz, a well known artist within motorsport. “It’s me celebrating a moment when I won the [F1 Academy] Championship,” says Pulling. It's frozen in time.”

It’s a moment that features prominently in Netflix’s new docuseries F1: The Academy, which is out this week. With Pulling’s championship-winning season set to get the attention it's due, we sit down to talk about her career to date, and the wild 12 months she’s just had. From run-ins with Brad Pitt trackside to hot laps with celebrities at Silverstone, it’s little wonder her Mario Kart form has gone off the boil.

GQ: How old were you when you first drove over 100mph?

Abbi Pulling: The first time I was probably 15, so I couldn't even drive on the road yet. People always go on about the acceleration and top speed, but for me that isn't the impressive part of motor racing. It's the cornering. You feel like a fighter pilot, because you pull loads of Gs, your whole body's getting thrown about.

Do you ever have to pinch yourself when thinking about what you’ve already accomplished in your career?

As a 22-year-old I feel like I've achieved so much and I'm really, really proud of that. It's been a whirlwind, especially last year, but there's still so much more that I want to go on to achieve. Winning F1 Academy and driving in GB3, all the hard work is paying off. It's the years where you're working so hard yet the results don't come, they're the ones that really mould you and make you a better athlete.

Last year, there was hardly a race where you didn’t feature on the podium. What does a season of success like that do for your confidence?

Having a year like last year proves you're capable of doing great things. Taking that forward into this year, I know I can compete at the front, especially in this [GB3] mixed category that I've stepped into. Boy or girl, I'm just a racing driver and want to show I can win and be the best.

Does it blow your mind how tiny the margins are between winning and losing?

It is amazing how all of us drivers get the car so close to the limit. It’s literally tenths if not hundreds of a second that divide us on the grid. We call it the tight rope. It's so easy to fall off of it, but whilst you're on it, you feel invincible. Hitting the brakes 3 per cent more or being delayed to the throttle by two metres can make such a drastic impact.

Why is it so important to have a women only championship?

A lot of people are against F1 Academy – they think it's segregation. I've grown up predominantly racing against lads so at first I thought I didn’t want to step away from that. But if it wasn't for F1 Academy, I would have stopped racing and wouldn't be going up the ladder. I'm a driver that has struggled with the financial side in the past but the F1 Academy kept my dream going. Without it, I wouldn't be doing this. This is what Susie is doing, helping so many females to continue racing or to get experience racing, ultimately getting us closer to Formula One. I owe a lot to Susie, I'm living breathing proof that it is working. Not only has it helped girls like me within it, it's helped girls watching that want to believe it could be them. They realise actually, it's not just a man's world – motorsport can be for anyone.

Do you feel like it’s another big win for women's sport?

Yes, as a whole women's sport is constantly on the rise and getting more popular. Everyone in their respective sports is amplifying that and being a part of that puzzle and creating the buzz around it. The Lionesses for example, I went to that [Euro 2022] final. What they did was such a big, big thing. The women's rugby team is doing well [ahead of the World Cup later this year] and then you've got the F1 Academy. This year there's 18 drivers, up from 16, so we’re showing what we can do, and what the younger girls that want to move up and go into it.

When you were growing up, how many girls were you racing against?

You'd get 200 drivers over a weekend in karting, there would be maybe four girls max. I was young and lived in blissful ignorance. If anyone did try to hurt my feelings like a lad at school or something, I didn't really care. Because I was there doing what I loved. And I thought at the end of the day they're probably just jealous. It was things like, Oh, I could beat you. I’d come back with, I don't think you realise what level I do this at. I do this at British Championship level.

When you were younger, did you come up against any drivers who are now in F1?

Gosh, yeah, I've driven with Ollie [Bearman] before, not directly raced against him. Same, I guess for Franco Colapinto, driven on a track with him before a few times. I might have actually raced against him.

Is it every motor racing driver’s dream to want to drive in F1?

We didn't want to go karting abroad, so probably at the age of 11 I started understanding what Formula 1 was, and started getting into that. By the time I was 15 I was like, I'd love to go into single-seaters down the Formula 1 route but it's very costly so we ended up deciding the GT route would be more realistic but since 2019 it's been full speed trying to go down the route to Formula 1. Any young driver sat here in a single-seater category would say the same but sometimes drivers can be so fixated on it and pass by opportunities that come about. I definitely am going to be open-minded if opportunities come my way. Maybe a stint in Formula E or WEC [World Endurance Championship], they're both two really, really prestigious championships, so to be racing in them would be really a great achievement.

You mention you struggled with the financial side of the sport. How so?

When I was 15, I started to understand the financial commitment that [being a racing driver] took and didn't want to put my family through any of that so at school I would sit in ICT and do sponsorship presentations when I wasn't supposed to be. Whenever I had access to a computer, I would be updating everything. And recently, any spare time I have, I do graphic design. I created my own little business digitally designing helmets. My own but also for other racers. I did some for Jessica Hawkins, Ben Barnicoat and Ferdinand Habsburg too.

Do you have a signature design?

Yeah, I really like a double pinstripe. It's just I've had it on a lot more recent helmets. I think it stands out, it's quite bold, but also makes it look quite tidy.

As a driver, do you have to know everything about the mechanics of the car?

You've got to have a good feel for what the car is doing, and you have to have a good enough relationship with your engineer. Their primary focus is to get the car in a better window for you, yours is to tell them what the car’s doing and where the good points and limitations are so they can balance that. You've got a drive through your bum is what they say. You feel your body moving and every little bump you go over. And if the car's twitching on the rear, you can feel it.

One of the stipulations of winning F1 Academy is you can’t return, right?

Yes, I can't go back to the championship, which I think is right. At the end of the day I'm there to try and keep progressing my career and move up the ranks. We've ended up going to GB3 and making the correct step in my career. Last year I didn't step off the podium once. So yeah, I graduated more than being kicked out.

Who from F1 congratulated you?

Esteban Ocon was really supportive and he reached out. And someone I didn't expect was Valtteri Bottas. Walking through the paddock, he stopped to congratulate me. He is a saint, Bottas, he's really nice.

What were some of the craziest things that happened to you as a consequence of winning?

I took Chloe Kelly around Silverstone. Mabel was so nice too, I did hot laps with her. Just rubbing shoulders with people like that, it is crazy. I don't think I'd ever have expected it but it just shows what F1 Academy is doing, getting the attention it deserves. It's the biggest thing I've achieved to date and it's been massive. I can't put it into words, and the attention that has come from it, and the support. And people that want to support me now this year. It is crazy to see in the last 12 months how much it has grown. The Netflix documentary that's coming out, that's going to increase the audience again.

Talk us through what it was like behind the scenes of filming F1: The Academy?

They filmed us for a bit in 2023 but I had no clue how big it was going to end up becoming. Going into 2024, we were told the film crew was gonna start following us around a lot more. Every race weekend we would sit down for 30 minutes with the production for recaps of what had just happened, feelings going into the race weekend and stuff like that. Then one question in Miami was ‘Who do you think this is going to be made for? And I was like, Netflix? The next week we had a sit down with Susie [Wolff] in Barcelona and she told us.

Did Susie Wolff have any tips for you?

Her advice was: show them your vulnerabilities, show them your strengths, and show them how hard you work. In Drive to Survive, there's a lot of politics within teams and drama, and there's so many more people involved. Whereas F1: The Academy is all about the journey [to becoming a driver]. There’s no engine or chassis differences like in Formula One so the racing is all down to the driver, which puts additional pressure on the driver.

It’s produced by Reese Witherspoon’s Hello Sunshine. How hands on was she?

Reese is a very busy woman so we never saw her trackside, but behind the scenes she was very involved in saying ‘let's do this’. I couldn't have thought of any better people [as Hello Sunshine] to be on board. I've seen Reese so many times on TV – Legally Blonde has got to be my favourite – then she’s stood next to me asking questions and being really interested in what I'm doing now. It’s mad.

What about the F1 movie starring Brad Pitt – did you clock much of the BTS of that too?

They literally did everything so low-key, you wouldn't even realise that they're there, to be honest. But I realised some of the people in the film I actually knew because some of the actual engineers were acting, which I thought was hilarious. I've worked with one of them before in the W Series. But when Brad Pitt walked down the paddock, there'd be a flock of people trying to get a photo of him – that's when you'd notice it.

[fairytaleendingss]

What Came Before

Summary: You have been taking care of Harry ever since Lily and James died. Sometimes he reminds you so much of his mother.

Pairing: Lily Evans x fem!Reader (kind of? I'll leave the specific nature of their relationship up to you.)

CW: Mentions of death.

Just a short little story. I decided to allow Harry a little support and comfort in this one. None for the reader though, unfortunately.

--

"Do you have everything you need?"

A train horn blew in the background. The platform was crowded, filled with people hurrying back and forth, saying goodbye to their children before sending them off for another year at Hogwarts. You looked down at the boy in front of you as he readjusted his glasses; the same ones his father used to wear. He was looking so much like James these days.

"Yes, Mum," he teased. "You do know it's my third year right? I know what I'm doing by now. You don't have to worry."

You smiled. He'd only started calling you 'Mum' a few years ago. It felt natural considering you'd been the only motherly figure he'd ever known, but the word still caused an ache to jolt through your chest. You loved him like a son - loved him more than words could ever describe - but you couldn't help but be reminded of someone else you loved. Someone else that the title of 'Mum' should have been reserved for.

"I know," you sighed, reaching out a hand to brush through his dark hair affectionately. "But I'm always going to worry about you. It's kind of my job."

He rolled his eyes but still opened his arms to pull you into a hug. You held him tightly, placing a kiss to the top of his head.

"I'll be okay, I promise," he muttered. "Besides, I'll have Uncle Moony there to look after me this year."

You pulled away, looking down at the boy before you. "I suppose you're right."

You knew he was. You'd been in correspondence with Remus frequently in the lead up to the school year. You had no doubt that he was going to keep an eye on the boy for you. God knows he had a habit of getting himself into trouble.

You took a moment to look at him. He was so much like his father. Everyone said it. And it was true in many ways. He was mischievous and loyal and had a natural gift for Quidditch. However, you could see the familiar warmth that lingered underneath. His patience and strength was all Lily's. You could see so much of her in her son, down to the green of his eyes. You only wished she'd had the chance to see it too.

"Alright. Go on. You don't want to be late."

He nodded, grabbing his trunk and turning towards the train. He looked back at you as he did.

"Bye Mum. I'll see you soon."

"Bye Harry," you called after him. "Don't forget to write."

"I won't!"

You watched as he clambered onto the train, chasing after Ron and Hermione. They laughed and chattered with each other as they went. You smiled, reminded of another time. One where it was you and your own friends hurrying to catch the train before it left.

You could still see it in your mind, as though it was yesterday. You still remembered the sound of James' laugh and the sight of Sirius' signature, cocky smirk. You could still see Remus rolling his eyes as Peter made a fool of himself in an attempt to impress his friends.

Most of all you remembered her. They way her eyes lit up when she smiled. The freckles on her face, the way her auburn hair fell in perfect rivulets down her back. Everything about her was still etched into your mind, like scar burned into the surface of your brain, even all after all these years.

As you watched the train leave, you couldn't help but think of her. You imagined she'd be proud of her son and the man he was growing into. You knew that you definitely were.

[dreamingcloudie]

❛❛ You Did Well ❜❜

Pairing(s): Dottore x GN!Reader

Type: Comfort Fluff(?)

Warning(s): human experimentation, not proofread

wc: ~1.4k

A request by one of the readers! It's been so long I don't know what I'm doing. I feel like I've gotten off track with this one... but I hope you'll like this anyways! The first fic I've written in months. Enjoy! :)

After years of working like a maniac. Earning achievements after achievements. Rivaling all the other people that could only hope to get to where you were today. You finally landed yourself a job at the organization created by none other than the beloved Cryo archon herself—the Fatui. And it was not just any job positions. You got to become the assistant of one of the eleven harbingers—The Doctor, second of the Fatui Harbingers. A very impressive title indeed.

You’ve heard people there were ruthless. It didn’t help that being in such a high ranking yourself, newbie or not, there were high expectations that needed to be met. And whatever it was, you hoped you were ready.

Oh god, oh no. You panicked. It was the first day of work and you were almost late. You arrived in front of the office just in time as you panted. You tried to fix your disheveled hair to make you look like you did not just run all the way over here. To your dismay, someone opened the door before you could make yourself look presentable.

You gulped and looked up.

“Hello, sir,” you greeted, praying he didn’t hear the slight shakiness in your voice.

He was wearing a mask, but you could feel his gaze scanning you up and down.

“Hmph,” he then walked out before continuing, “You are the new assistant, aren’t you? Wait for me inside.”

He was already halfway down the hall when you scurried inside. You could feel your face burning in embarrassment.

Great. You thought. First day and I’m already making a fool of myself.

A few minutes later, he came back in, holding a stack of papers in his hand. He placed them down onto a tidied desk with a sign saying “(Y/n)” on it.

“Usually, I’d go straight into lab work with the assistants on their first day.” He spoke, leaning onto the desk. “But, I decided to try something new today. All of my previous assistants quitted in less than a week, due to them not being able to handle the pressure.”

He continued, “I’m feeling generous, so I’ll let you start off with something easy by doing paperwork. If you did well, good for you. If not, I’ll fire you on the spot so you wouldn’t waste my time.”

As expected, The Doctor certainly has high demands. You glanced at the amount of paperwork that needed to be done on your desk. You’ve stayed up countless times to complete your thesis before, this was nothing you couldn’t handle. With this newfound confidence, you firmly nodded your head.

“Understood. I’ll get to them right away.”

From his stance, he seemed to be satisfied with your answer.

“When you’re done with them, just leave them on my desk. If you have any questions, don’t bother asking me. Just solve them yourself,” he said, before entering the other section of the office that leads to the lab.

You took a seat at your desk and picked up a pen.

Well then, time to get some work done.

= = =

For the first week, work wasn’t so bad. Most of the time it was just tons and tons of paperwork. It got boring after a while, but at least you were able to get them done on time. Earning yourself a pleased hum from The Doctor each time you handed them in.

So far, so good.

“The paperwork for today is done, sir,” you said, placing the papers down onto his desk.

He nodded. “As efficient as always. I think you’re ready.”

You were puzzled by what he meant. You wanted to ask but didn’t want to bother him. So you just left, hoping whatever he was implying wasn’t anything bad.

= = =

The next day came and you were up and early, waiting for him at your desk. He entered the office not too long after, but something was different, he wasn’t holding a stack of paper like he normally was. Instead, it was a lab coat.

“Judging by your work these past few days, I’ve decided that you’re ready for something a little more… exciting.” He then threw the lab coat at you, for you to clumsily catch it.

“Follow me.” Was all he said before opening the doors to the lab. You quickly put your coat on before following closely behind.

The first thing you noticed was the pungent, iron-like scent, your nose picked up on in the air. It made your stomach twist and turn. The Doctor’s frame was taller than yours, blocking your view of the center of the room.

“This, as you may have already guessed by the interior, is the lab. And today, we’re going to do some testing with the new liquid I concocted on a volunteering subject.” He then moved away from your view. And what you saw in front of you made your skin crawl.

The Doctor put some gloves on and went over to the person, who was very much alive, strapped down to the operation table with multiple wounds apparent on his body.

“Come,” he simply said, gesturing you to go over to where he was standing.

You could feel your legs wobbling as you walked to him. Your steps were hesitant and your eyes were on the person with a gag in his mouth, muffling his pained pleas. You then felt something in your hand. You looked at what The Doctor gave to you—a syringe filled with some glowing liquid.

The Doctor took some disinfectant wipes and applied it onto the subject’s arm, preparing for an injection.

You could feel cold sweat forming on your palms. You knew experiments would get involved taking up this job. But you were not expecting to have a human test subject. One that was still living and breathing.

This… this isn’t right. Your mind screamed.

The Doctor took a step backwards, giving you some space.

“Go on. Let’s see how you’d do. I’ve read in your resume that you’ve handled syringes and injections before. So this should be a piece of cake for you,” he spoke, eagerly watching your every move.

Should I just call it quit? You asked yourself. Finding it difficult to choose in this dilemma of yours. It took you years of hard work to get here. Should you really quit just because you were simply uncomfortable?

Come on. I’m the assistant of one of the most powerful harbingers. It would be shameful of me to back down just because… You argued. You could feel your heartbeat pulsing violently throughout your body as you raised your hands. The tip of the syringe stopped just inches before the man’s arm.

You could feel it. The Doctor was getting impatient by the second. You could hear the sound of his shoe tapping against the concrete floor, “Well?”

This felt wrong, very wrong. But you had no choice, if you wished to keep this job of yours. You mouthed a “sorry” to the squirming man, before pushing the syrinige into his flesh, closing your eyes and injecting the unknown substance into his body.

“Bravo, took you long enough.” The Doctor said.

“Wasn’t so hard now, was it… hm?” He grabbed your chin and turned your head to face him. You were wondering why he did that until he brushed his thumb across your cheek.

“It seems like you are in distress.”

You touched your cheek slightly and it felt wet.

Well, okay. This is embarrassing. Crying in front of a harbinger. He’s going to fire me now because I’m crying over such a small task.

“I take it this was your first time experimenting on a live human being?” He asked, in which you answered with a nod.

“I figured.”

“I-I apologize for my incompetence, sir! I’ll do better next time and—”

“I didn’t ask you to explain yourself. It was a yes-or-no question,” he said.

“I was expecting you to quit when I saw you trembling. But my, oh my. You did so well.” He carried on, “I must say, you did so much better than my previous assistants. Yes, what we’re doing might be considered morally grey in the eyes of others. But keep in mind, this is all done for a better understanding of science; and of course, to fulfill her majesty’s dreams, in the grand scheme of things.”

He then gave you a little pat on the head.

“So you needn’t regret what you’ve done. All you need to know is that you did a great job. And I must say… you might be my favourite assistant, so far.”

He wiped your tears.

“Do me a favor, and don’t dwell on what happened today, because there would be more of this to come. And soon, you’ll get used to this, understand?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Upon hearing your response, you could see a grin forming on his face.

“What a good little assistant you are.”

[melbatron5000]

My murder board

Updated 4/22/24

I'll add links as I can, but here's what I've got so far on the Good Omens season 2 puzzle/game. I feel it's important to note that I think we've been given all the puzzle pieces and a bunch of helpful hints besides.

The continuity errors:

Crowley's hair (POV thing)

Crowley's sideburns (POV)

The Bentley, "our car" but then it is Our Car in 1941 also -- WTF (There is a line in the book about someone being powerful enough to make something change and then make it so the change always was that way, but damned if I can recall the line or context now. Need to re-read AND re-watch! Found it! It's when Crowley first meets Adam after he's come into his powers -- he reads Crowley's mind and history like it's a book and this is the impression it leaves Crowley with. Adam's power is very similar to how the Book of Life is described in the show. Curiouser and curiouser!) (POV!)

Eccles cakes when Crowley leaves the shop, it's still morning, the continuity of time is messing with me. When they get the eccles cakes, it's light out. When Crowley leaves, it's dark out. He throws a lightning temper tantrum. He comes back after 9 by the clock in the shop. I still think it's not unreasonable to assume Aziraphale simply tidied away the eccles cakes in that time. Nina would have liked her plate back, after all. But all of this begs another question: 4a. Why is it around 11:30 when Aziraphale leaves Maggie's shop with the record and says he knows what he'll be doing for 21 minutes, but after 4 pm when Gabriel shows up? What happened for those 4+ hours? See 6. Clocks are wrong. Time is wrong!! (4.b the eccles cakes are prominent in at least one promo poster. Even if they don't disappear, do they mean something else??)

Portal rug it's a faded rug right up until the ball, when it becomes a thick red rug, then it's back to faded once the ball is tidied away. It just got made pretty for the ball, then changed back. The change is a nothingburger.

Clocks are wrong -- all over the damn place!!

Cross on Gabriel's statue -- appears to disappear. (POV)

Honolulu roast sign -- appears out of nowhere. (POV)

Title/location cards -- but there are some spots where the S1 title cards are used, what's going on there? (POV clues? -- this needs a closer look)

Drawing of Gabriel -- the one Aziraphale draws in the shop is NOT the one he shows the pub owner in Edinburgh. Why? (POV)

Wet roads/series poster -- what is up with all the rain??

Lights at Marguerites -- on again, off again. (POV? Or is it just when she's closed and open? It's a cafe, after all, they won't be open in the morning.)

Aziraphale's chair position in the Final Fifteen

1941 photo, Crowely's hand

Repeating extras -- not just repeating, but acting oddly -- walking back and forth, touching things, not eating, dressed the same every single day, etc. Do the people on the street in Edinburgh behave the same way?? (POV?)

Resurrectionist sign at the pub -- one with a scalpel, one with a butcher's knife. And it makes me think -- was Mr. Dalrymple a surgeon and a scientist with a scalpel, or a butcher with a cleaver? (POV. Wait, Aziraphale is the only MC there -- whose POVs would we be seeing?? Crowley's. He calls to tell Crowley what he found, what we're seeing is Crowley's idea of what happened.)

Store front signs -- appear and disappear. (POV)

Whickber street as seen from Heaven vs. on location -- the one Saraqael looks at in Heaven is the Google Maps picture of SoHo from 2019 with the book shop added in. It's not even from 2023! There is a building being torn down in it. In person on the show, it's different -- and the building is long gone in actual Google Maps 2023. (I think Saraqael is trying to hide the big miracle. She's showing the arc angels the book shop when it got reset by Adam in 2019.)

When Shax talks to Crowley and he takes off driving. When she appears, he is parked further up the street than when he leaves. Noticeably so. (POV? Or scenes out of order and this is a different time than it looks like?)

Edinburgh castle -- when Aziraphale arrives in Edinburgh, the castle is behind him. When the camera switches angles to behind him, Edinburgh castle is in front of him. The street he is on (streets, actually) are real streets. The castle was put in the first shot deliberately, but exists for real in the second shot. (POV)

Edinburgh streets -- when Aziraphale arrives in Edinburgh, the street he parks on is cobblestone. When the camera switches to behind him, the street is paved. (POV)

Weird sounds of all kinds?? (POV? Some of them yes.)

Crowley's sunglasses. Could this be explained by POV switches? If so, why do they change halfway through and then stay that way?

Questions about things the characters do:

Where did Crowley go during the Job flashback? And why was he wearing his spy turtleneck? (To meet up with Saraqael, perhaps? Seeing as Shax interrupted their meeting earlier that day?)

Where else did Aziraphale go in Edinburgh? And why did he go to the graveyard?

What did Gabriel need to bring to Aziraphale? What happened to it? (God's voice? A message from god? The Book of Life?)

Why does Micheal do the magician's "nothing in the box" display with the matchbox? It's a very specific action. Something's in that up with that damn matchbox. We're being asked to look at it, while something else happens that we're missing. And someone noticed that her nails are in terrible shape when she does it, but our eyes are on the matchbox.

What else did the Metatron say to Aziraphale? (Anything? Are we getting the whole, accurate story? Most of it? Any of it?)

How long was Crowley in Heaven, and what happened while he was there? (Did he sneak around and steal something? Did they harm him? He's acting a bit weird when he comes back.)

What happened to Aziraphale's briefcase? The one he took to Edinburgh. Where he did who knows what. (Is that a POV thing??)

What, if anything, is wrong with Crowley's memory? (Or is he just dissing Furfur and Saraqael?) (OR! Given the Gabriel removed HIS OWN MEMORY AND PUT IT IN THE FLY, so apparently angels ((AND demons??)) can affect their own memories, did Crowley deliberately do something to himself to get rid of unwanted memories??? He seems pretty untroubled by not remembering Furfur or Saraqael or why they made gravity -- almost as if he doesn't care the memories are gone. Okay, maybe he's gotten rid of some memories himself, but then WHY??) This could be a big old nothingburger. Or is he dissing Furfur and offering plausible deniability that he's met with Saraqael before -- like, when he was wearing his spy turtle neck??

What is Shax's mission? She says she's Crowley's replacement, but then she asks for "what she needs" from Crowley on the bench. Huh? What does she need?

How does Crowley know about hand washing in the Resurrectionists minisode? (This strikes different than the "lead ballon" remark on the wall. It's hard to say if Crowley knows about lead balloons, or if they're speaking an angelic language and it's being translated for us and the translator has a sense of humor or is trying to convey Crowley's sense of humor. The hand washing is actual, concrete, specific knowledge of the future.) Ah, I just re-read the book, where he mentions helicopters to DaVinci, and also Neil said this. It's something Crowley can do. He's a demon, he knows things.

What is going on with Maggie? I don't think she's a demon, but there is something up with her. (Also, one of the men in the graveyard in Edinburgh has a tattoo that says "no regerts." That's a real tattoo that circulates around the internet every once in a while -- I think it's a subtle reminder that humans aren't necessarily great at spelling, either.) But she has a Mason symbol on her necklace, and I still think the Masons are significant somehow; Aziraphale can't miracle-influence her; Aziraphale expects her to feel the arc angels arriving.

Why does Gabriel speak with god's voice? (Was that what he needed to bring? That message? But he says he needs to give Aziraphale something, and both times he speaks in god's voice, it's to Crowley. Hmm. IS that God's voice? It's a woman, but who is it?)

How did the pub owner recognize Gabriel's picture so fast? He says himself, "Look pal, I see a lot of people -- oh, yeah, I remember him!" ?? Was it just because Gabriel was weird at him?

Why is Crowley throwing books? It gives us a laugh, but is there a reason for it? He even seems confused as to why he's carrying them right before he does. (This is a POV thing -- the lens is "Aziraphale's" lens, so I think we're seeing Crowley tell Aziraphale what happened while Aziraphale was gone, and how Aziraphale imagines it would go.)

Why is Saraqael the only angel to react with fear before anyone else recognizes the Metatron? (Is it because she's been working WITH Gabriel, Beelzebub, AND Crowley and Aziraphale to thwart the second attempt at ending the world? Neil says he had some secret things for Sandalphon to do, but the actor wasn't available, so Saraqael does some of those things instead . . .)

Aziraphale gently laughs at Muriel's Inspector Constable persona, but then IMMEDIATELY adopts a just as over-the-top reporter persona. Is he doing it deliberately, or is he that un-self-aware? If he's doing it deliberately, why? Who's he trying to convince he's not that savvy? The pub owner? Anyone who might be spying? US?? Is that a POV thing? And if so, whose?? (AHA! I think this is Aziraphale telling Crowley what happened, and Crowley picturing Aziraphale being adorable in his disguise. Aziraphale is not that silly actually, but probably not as slick as he wants to think.)

Why the heck did Maggie and Nina go talk to Crowley while the Metatron was talking to Aziraphale? What they had to say wasn't important enough to leave Nina's shop during a rush, and I definitely don't think they derailed Crowley from what he needed to say to Aziraphale, though it might look at first as if they did. So what was that about?

When Shax stops Aziraphale for a ride, he says, "Oh, I really need to get to --" and then is cut off. He really needs to get to where? It's an easy assumption to think he means the book shop, or London. But is that all he means? Or was he on his way somewhere else? And if it was just the book shop, what does he mean he's late? Late for what? And that lens is still Crowley's lens -- Aziraphale is relating the story to Crowley. Crowley also knows where Aziraphale was going besides Edinburgh.

Crowley can tell something is wrong. Something. What?

Good God, this questions list just keeps getting longer. Why would the Metatron allow Beelzebub and Gabriel to leave, after trying to stop Armageddon 2.0, but come after Crowley and Aziraphale like that? Just because of the big miracle? (Which I'm not sure they did.)

Why does Crowley say "Oh, God," right before his confession in the final fifteen? To let Aziraphale know that he understands what Aziraphale is saying? That God (or the Voice) is there? Seems possible.

Why didn't Gabriel come down the lift in the Dirty Donkey? He also says he had to carry that box for sooo long. Where was he wandering around?

When Crowley leaves Heaven, he tells Saraqael and Muriel to come, too. But in the elevator, Michael and Uriel are there! When the fuck did they show up??

The whole time Aziraphale is in Maggie's shop asking about Every Day, he is looking out the windows and is VERY nervous. Is he just concerned about leaving Gabriel on his own, or is he nervous about something specific? He does react to the car horn outside as others have noted, but he is already jumpy and checking the windows repeatedly, the car horn isn't anything particular, he's just already fixated on the windows.

Why does Beelzebub tell Shax to attack the bookstore? Aren't they worried about Gabriel being harmed? And they know Hell is understaffed. Maybe that's why they command it? Because they know Shax won't be able to get the demons?

Questions about the world:

What about the Masons? It's such a specific thing for the pub owner to bring up, what is the meaning of it? And Maggie has a Mason symbol on her necklace. Did the Masons carve the statue of Gabriel? When did they see him?

The only narration we hear in the entire season is Aziraphale in the Resurrectionist flashback. Why? (Maybe to throw us off? I think we have multiple POV characters in season 2, not just Aziraphale, but we only hear Aziraphale so we assume he's the POV for the entire season. But still, why do we only hear him narrate 1 flashback? Argh, is he reading the diary to himself in the present day? That would explain the end, "And that was the last I was to see of Crowley for some time." If he is reading it in the present day, why? What made him think to go back to THAT entry?? Oh, duh! He JUST heard the story of the jukebox from Maggie. And Gabriel appearing -- same city that statue is in. Of course he thought of something important from that diary entry! Now, what did he notice?)

Is the Book of Life a real threat? We hear two stories about it, that it's real and that its ability to erase beings was something to scare the cherubs with, this is inconclusive. Crowley gets nervous after Beelzebub talks to him, but he could just be upset that their little break is interrupted, and now Heaven and Hell have taken an interest in them again.

Is reality fucked up? How? Whickber street bubble, Aziraphale's power turned up (how?), etc.? A LOT of it is POV shifts!

Job 41:19 on the matchbox: 1941?? YES. Bullet catch/kiss scene!

Where TF is God? "There was nothing for Her to do" my ass. She narrates. That's it. So there was nothing for her to narrate? Hm. (Because there was a host of other narrators? Are the Crowley/Aziraphale through the ages flashbacks in S1 narrated by God? I don't think they are, but I need to rewatch. They are not! And they aren't narrated by God because Crowely and Aziraphale are the POV characters in them.)

So many promo posters show Aziraphale, Crowley, and Jimbriel together, or symbols of them. Three feathers: two white, one black. Tea cup, cocoa mug, wine glass. The three of them. Not with Beelzebub, not with Muriel, the three of them. And all three of them have been Jesus-coded in some small way. No one else. Those three. What. Why. Are they the sacrifice required to bring about the new world? Why not Beez, then?

Wait. Two Crowleys?? WTF. There are two Crowley puppets in the magic shop, and Crowley doesn't remember Saraqael or Furfur. Is he dissing them, or is that the second Crowley that never did meet either of them? Am I insane? I have no theory here, just some wild speculation that needs a lot more time to simmer. Two actual Crowleys, or two ideas of Crowley? Or something to hurt my head?

Why are they in a cave in the opening sequence? The guy who made the opening sequence says they are in the fly that Gabriel stores his memory in. Okay, why? And Crowley lights a match to see. Hm. What else was in that fly that Gabriel didn't take when he got his memory out?

An album on the wall in Maggie's shop says "Rat Keith." This seems to me to be an allusion to The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents, by Terry Pratchett. In the book, some men have tied several rats' tails together to create a rat king that keeps the wild rats under control -- except that the rat king has too much power and is doing way more than just that. People die. So who's been given too much power and is now running the show instead of being a puppet? The Metatron, perhaps? Hm . . . Also, Keith is the young boy who plays the part of the Pied Piper for Maurice's scam. He leads all the rats out of town, never mind that the rats can talk and are in on the scam.

Things I think I know:

NEIL GAIMAN IS A LYING LIAR WHO LIES. Except when he's dropping hints or answering straight out. All of his answers to anything anyone asks about GO are suspect at best. (I cannot blame him or anyone else on the cast or crew -- they spent A LOT of time and energy building this very meticulous puzzle game for us -- why would ANY of them give ANY of it away? That would ruin all the fun!)

God has been removed/has vacated. Where did she go? I wonder if anyone knows. Is She just standing back and watching? In the book, Crowley says that anyone who can create a whole universe in six days doesn't let a war of rebellion happen unless they want it to. But that he and Aziraphale wouldn't understand, because if they understood, they wouldn't be them. It's INEFFABLE. He also then FORGETS what he was talking about a minute later.

God doesn't narrate because She's busy being Maggie. Aha!

The Metatron is working for himself. The dice on his tie seem to imply that while God does not play dice with the universe, this jerk surely does. Also, see the rat king observation above, #10.

Gabriel was bringing Aziraphale a message, the box is a red herring. But that brings me to another thing I suspect -- there was something else in the box, and the box is deeply important. Ah, damn -- is that what Crowley gave to Aziraphale in the kiss? Whatever was in the box? Was that what he found out while he was in Heaven? What Gabriel took? Did Gabriel put it in the fly with his memory?

Heaven did something bad to Crowley while he was there. That coffee is a red herring to draw our eye away from him. But that brings me to something else I suspect -- Crowley's knackered and a bit off when he returns from his TEN HOUR JAUNT in Heaven not because they did anything bad to him, but because he stole something very important. Maybe the thing he gives to Aziraphale during the break up?

Crowley and Aziraphale did NOT perform a huge miracle. I don't know what happened, but it wasn't them working together. (Or did they? Are angels and demons more powerful together? Did the Fall create a schism between them that weakened them all? Or are they and Saraqael hiding who did do the big miracle?)

This is a 2 man con. Of course it's a 2 man con. I read American Gods. Crowely and Aziraphale have a plan. This might be version B or C, they might be springing it sooner than they hoped, but that break up was a ruse. A hard, painful ruse, but a ruse. They knew their respite would be short-lived, they've been putting something together for years now.

Crowley put something in Aziraphale's mouth during the kiss. I don't know what, but something he had to swallow. obligateweirdo pointed out that he seems to palm something out of his mouth when he touches his lips the second time, and that Houdini's wife used to slip him the keys to his cuffs with a kiss before his shows. Whatever Crowley gave Aziraphale, it's physical. And Michael Sheen has said he doesn't want to share what's in Aziraphale's pockets -- because Aziraphale put whatever Crowley gave him into a pocket?? Was it the fly? (But didn't that go into Gabriel's eye and stay there?) And if it was the fly, what was inside it?

Gabriel went somewhere else before he went to the book shop. He didn't come down the elevator at the Dirty Donkey. Did he go to Edinburgh? Is that why the pub owner recognized that picture so fast? "Oi! That's that naked bloke was in here last week!" (Or was him walking down the street because we first see him from Nina or Maggie's perspective?? POV muckery?)

SECRET SONGS??? Why are the songs secret?? I'm losing my mind, what is happening??

Several narrators. I'm not even sure how many, but we're seeing the world through the eyes of characters, not God or a faceless narrator. This is part of why things are weird. I don't think that's the full explanation for the whole season, but I think it's a big part of the weirdness. A book that comes up often in the show is The Crow Road by Ian Banks. A brief description of the book says that it is written from the point of view of several characters and the story is told out of order and in no particular fashion, with changes from character to character POV coming at no particular interval and with no warning. AHA! (I did come up with the idea before I saw this post, but @highlandwhackamole beat me to writing it. Well done!) NOW I'm wondering if we aren't also seeing the story as told by the characters we see, but as heard but an as-yet unknown character . . .

The scenes are out of order. The DAMN SCENES ARE OUT OF ORDER! I don't know their correct order, but they are out of order. The Crow Road, again, is told out of order, forcing the reader to piece the scenes together (from a brief description, I'm thinking more and more I need to read this book rather than try to skim it). Is it as simple as watching the scenes in chronological order??

Our angel and demon have hidden something in the book shop. Something important. I have no current guesses as to what. Crowley still has his crank from starting up the nebula. What else might he have taken with him? Is that it? Or something else? HOLY SHIT ARE THEY HIDING JESUS??? Is THAT who did the miracle??

When Aziraphale tells Crowley that their Gabriel miracle set off alarms in Heaven, he sort of raises his eyebrows and says it in the same way he says other things he doesn't mean -- the same tone he says "I forgive you" after the Kiss, or how he says "He says he's Bildad the Shuite," in the Job minisode. It wasn't the Gabriel miracle that set off alarms in Heaven, it was whatever Saraqael was doing, or whoever Saraqael is hiding, and Crowley is well aware of it and whatever Saraqael is up to. Aziraphale just told Crowley that they have to take responsibility for whatever Saraqael did to allay Heaven's suspicions. They are talking in code through more of this season than we first think.

The rainbow lens flairs sure look like eyes. Like a pupil and iris. Is this a subtle hint that we are seeing through someone else's eyes?

When Crowley and Aziraphale argue about what to do with Jimbriel, behind Aziraphale is a privacy screen, and behind Crowley is an open door. Does this reflect how each of them feels, that Aziraphale believes they are speaking in private and Crowley believes they are being listened in on?

Repeating themes:

Beverages of all kinds -- tea for Aziraphale, wine or whiskey for Crowley, cocoa for Jim.

Time -- lots of clocks/mentions of time

Love/partnership/togetherness being stronger than separateness

Queer couples -- is literally everyone in season 2 in a non-cis-het relationship?? Even the guy in the graveyard says he uses his phone for Grindr -- a gay men's dating hook-up app. Nothing wrong with it, but it's an interesting writing choice. Why? Equality and representation -- or a Clue? (I think it's a POV Clue!)

Memories/forgetting/remembering

Payment -- money comes up in both the Resurrectionists minisode and the Flesh Eating Nazi Zombies minisode, but no one pays for anything in present. There is bartering, but no money.

Rising from the dead -- Job's kids (even though they weren't actually dead), bodies used for science, Nazi zombies, the Second Coming.

Unreliable narrators

Death in general -- but 9a., I'm a dirty pagan, why didn't I make this connection sooner, death always leads to REBIRTH, change, something totally new and 9b. there are tarot cards in the magic shop, and even if you're not a dirty pagan, the Death tarot card means transition, something must die before a new thing can be born. Hmmmm.

Morality and what is "good" and what is right

Recognition and identity

Repeating words and phrases OMG the list goes on:

Technically

Properly

Isn't it just?

Too late

Funny old world

Not as such

Made for each other

EVERYWHERE

Obviously

Hints:

Powell and Pressburg films

The Crow Road

Catch 22

The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents, Terry Pratchett in general

Jane Austin

Book Good Omens

The titles of episodes, minisodes, places, etc. 7a. The Arrival: a book and a movie, though the book seems far more relevant. And lovely. The Clue: a movie. Companion to Owls: a line from a Bible story. I Know Where I'm Going: a movie. The Resurrectionists: two novels, each called The Resurrectionist, singular. Both look unhinged. The Hitchhiker: a Twilight Zone episode. Nazi Zombie Flesheaters: Literally no other reference. ?? Nazi Zombies do appear in a LOT of movies, comics, and video games, usually as a dark joke. The Ball: a video game. Irrelevant? It's a puzzle-based game, so maybe not. Every Day: a song AND a movie. Some themes repeat here: Puzzle games, being re-directed from one's path to find true love, death and being brought back to life in a gruesome and unpleasant way.

That's what I have so far. I'll try to update with new ideas and information, as well as links to things that support my theories as I find them.

[umf1]

george russell is interviewed during the press conference on media day, japan - april 3, 2025 (transcript under the cut)

Interviewer: "George, let's come onto you now. A really impressive start for you and Mercedes so far this year - podiums, you had the front row start last time out, as well. What is possible with this year's car, do you think? How much is possible?" George: "Yeah, I mean obviously the first two races have been great-two podiums-and we couldn't really have hoped for much more. I think we also have to be realistic. We are only two races into a long season and I don't think probably Ferrari and maybe Red Bull have maximized their potential as yet, so we don't want to get carried away thinking this is possible week in, week out. But we definitely know that if we do the best job to our abilities, we'll be there in the mix." Interviewer: "Has the pace of the car surprised you so far?" George: "Yeah, I think it has. We know in qualifying we've always been pretty strong, but I think it was quite refreshing in China to see that our race pace was also pretty decent. And we were the second fastest team in China and there was a lot of positives to take away. So we go to Japan, which was probably one of our worst races last year, so it'll be quite an interesting test to see if we've improved the car compared to this time twelve months ago." Interviewer: "Just a final one from me: Toto was very positive about your performance in China. How much of a shot in the arm is it for you to know that the boss has got your back?" George: "Yeah, I mean, I know he's always got my back, to be honest. People like to see things publicly. I don't read what is said in the press or on social media so, for me, I only found out about this this morning when someone told me. Of course it's good to hear, but it's… I know that he's always supported me, had my back, and believes in me, and that's the most important is what is happening internally, rather than what is shown to the world. And I know that I've got everybody's support. We're in this all together, we're all fighting for the same common goal, and it's an exciting moment for us." Interviewer: "Alright. Good luck to you this weekend, as well. Let's open this to the broadcasters. Who's first? Craig! Yep."

Journalist #1: "Craig Slater, Sky Sports F1. A question for George, and just picking up on that, clearly, obviously, there are contract negotiations you need to embark on at some point. If the season turns out as you'd wish with maybe a title challenge, would it be a good idea to try and get that done sooner rather than later, so it doesn't, I suppose, get in the way of that?" George: "From my side, there's no stress whatsoever regarding a contract. Ultimately contracts are in place in Formula 1, and things change very quickly and I believe in myself. You have to perform and it's pretty much as simple as that. And when it comes down to contract dicussions, I think with us in the past, with Toto, it's taken no more than 24 hours to have the conversation and then it goes to the lawyers and we get something in place. So there is no rush from my side, there's no concerns, there's no pressure. I'm enjoying where I'm at in the sport right now and enjoying my performance, and just enjoying going racing and that's the number one prioroity right now." Journalist #2: "A question to George: George, when people talk about the title, your name isn't often out there. Do you feel like you are not taken into consideration as you should be?" George: [laughs] "I mean, ultimately from my side I'm just going in every single weekend trying to perform the maximum. And these last three years, as well, alongside Lewis, his name was always there with championships 'cause he's the GOAT. But the last three years neither of our names were there because we weren't in the position to fight, so… Look, this season has been a great start to the year. I don't think we could have achieved a better result than we expected and I hope that we can continue this sort of run of consistency, but we know realistically the McLarens are exceptionally strong and I think it's gonna be challenging for anybodye else to compete with them. But we saw last year how dominant Red Bull were and suddenly they weren't at the end of the season, so yeah, things change quickly."

[bugs1nmybrain]

Have you heard the song “give your heart a break” by Demi Lovato imagine that as a cute love story for Shigaraki with the female reader?

(I was thinking about just using the song as a story title and then use your imagination and get creative with whatever you choose and just have fun with it?😅)

Give Your Heart a Break - a soft Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader series

CHAPTER 1 (Minors Don't Interact)

You can read Chapter 2 here.

Notes: You asked for a love story, and you're getting a love story XD. I plan for this to be a continuing series. No overarching goal with this series, just a sweet story about how Shigaraki fell hard for the reader. It will be messy! Shigaraki is not a healthy guy but I will make this as fluffy as possible. Underneath all that homicidal rage is just a boy who was never loved. This is admittedly a very, "I can fix him," kind of story lmao. I'm hoping this can carry out into an alt version of the end of MHA, where Tomura is very much OKAY AND ALIVE.

Summary: First encounter between Shigaraki and the reader. The whole chapter is literally Shiggy freaking out in GameStop because you walked in and you're so pretty and he wants to talk to you but doesn't know how.

This story starts around season 4's arc.

Warnings will come and go as each chapter comes out.

Warnings: The canon of BNHA is altered; quirks still exist but Shigaraki is more of a domestic gang leader than a domestic terrorist lmao. NSFW (no sex in this chapter), Shigaraki is a creep, fluff, CHEESY, Shigaraki has a psychotic condition but unspecified, (voices highlighted in red, regular thoughts in blue),

Notes about Reader's Appearance and Personality: HEAVILY based off of me. She's shy and polite up front but silly and vulgar with people close to her. She is short and a little thicc. Alternative clothing style and she's messy looking. She is a gamer! She is insinuated to be Shigaraki's age (20), maybe even older. She likes anime! She has crooked teeth.

Tomura wasn't unlike other 20-year-old men in that he found himself dreaming about what it would be like to have a girlfriend. Sometimes even a boyfriend with him being bisexual. He usually didn't do more than look at cute people in his peripheral vision, but he knew he was cooked. There's no way someone so twisted could ever be loved.

Tomura loved giving off the impression that he needed nobody. Even in the League, he isolated a lot while the other members would be doing something together. He'd retreat to his own room and play games or plan out operations, but sometimes he'd retreat so that he could cuddle up with his favorite body pillow and just lay there.

He'd probably kill anyone who ever found out about it, but he was starving for love. To be touched, held, kissed. For someone to play with his hair and be comfortable around him. Everyone's so afraid of him and for a very good reason! However, sometimes he just wished he had someone, just ONE person who wanted his company. Someone to listen to him rant for hours about how much he hates heroes, someone to play games with, someone to make love to, or someone to just hold for comfort when he was stressed.

He'd commit mass genocide if anyone knew he'd had imaginary girlfriends.

Now, a big scary bad guy like Tomura could have a lover, right?? Just use those scare tactics, hold her by the throat with one finger up, and tell her she has no option but to love him. Steal her, hide her, keep her to himself? Sure, his Master teased this idea to him, telling Tomura that if he wanted something he must TAKE it. Tomura didn't want that though. As possessive as he was, he wanted to be loved. Not feared. He was feared plenty.

He'd kill if anyone knew how much pain he's in every time he sees a cute couple walk into GameStop. It pisses him off so bad. Why can't he have that?

"Well, doi, Shigaraki. You're a murderer, a psychopath, and a villain. Just one touch and it's over. What girl is going to want your hands all over her?"

"Whatever."

-

Shigaraki was currently at GameStop looking for the Dark Souls 3 remake for the Ps5. He picked the game and dragged it up with a few fingers, turning it the other way around to read the details. As he was reading, he heard a ding from the door. Shigaraki always looked when it went off because he could never be too sure that some hero bounty hadn't tracked him down. He looked over to the door, expecting it to be nothing special.

Whatever Tomura was feeling right now started in his eyes. Goodness, she was so...colorful. Not even! It was funny, considering she was wearing mostly black. However, her pretty hair that was put up in pigtails and the sharp black eyeliner made her stand out like a sore thumb.

She was little, too. Tomura looked in comparison as the girl stood at the door, seeing her reach the 5' mark on the height scale.

The feeling started going to his brain now. She stepped closer and closer to the store, the pumped boots making her seem all big and now he realized they gave her a height advantage, meaning she was even shorter. He worried that she was going to walk over to his area, but instead she made a beeline toward the anime section.

"Hehe weeb."

Tomura didn't want to stand out, so he just stayed put, looking at games he was never going to play. He didn't read the labels, he merely pretended to skim them so he could observe the woman. He saw the other losers in the store eyeball her, too. That made him wanna kill them for some reason. He wanted to get a proper look, but he didn't want her to see him creeping. Even if he just looked at the girl, she'd probably leave the store like that. After all, he was wearing a black hoodie and the parts of his face that were visible were his rather creepy features. He'd scare her off and the idea made him..sad?

He's planned some pretty crazy missions before, surely he could gather intel on this little goth chick in her short time in GameStop, right?

He wanted a better look, so he switched from the PS area to the T-shirts. He even pretended to do a little "aha" at the shirts to make it seem like he wasn't purposely there so he could see her better. When he could get a solid look, though, he instantly needed to know everything about her.

Goodness, he was simp, huh? She was just too goshdarn cute. Sure, he saw gothic and alt girls around the mall all the time. She looked...different though. The makeup wasn't bad, but it was messy. Her hair could probably use some brushing too. In her hand held a phone that had a case of some anime guy, though he didn't know which one.

"Hehe weeb."

Fuck, she was strutting his way. He didn't know if he should leave before she ended up near him or just stay. She kept her distance anyway, as she stood very far off to the side. Surely, she couldn't be able to get a good look at the shirts from that far away. He stepped back, hoping that she'd be able to tell he was giving her room. The girl smiled and said, "thank you," going to step forward.

The feeling was going to his nuts.

Now that she was in front of him, he got a nice view of the backside. Not only could he see up close how small she really was, but he got a great view of her more intimate areas. He could tell from her skirt that she had wide hips and thick thighs, which made him pop a tiny smirk while she wasn't looking.

"Nab her."

Oh, come on, not now.

Stupid fucking voices. He's had them since he was about 14 or 15. They were a nuisance and would tell him things he didn't necessarily believe. It drove Tomura crazy, worrying if he really was just some pervert.

While his voice distracted him, the girl had managed to end up at the registrar with a t-shirt in her hand. Tomura didn't think as he bolted over behind you, he wasn't ready for her to leave. He already had his game that he had to buy so it wasn't like he was in line for no reason.

The feeling started going into his blood. He felt hot, and it was because of the stupid cashier making jokes and being friendly. Her laugh. He could tell it was fake, but she was so warm?

"Pet her hair."

Wow, ok. Sometimes they'd say very bizarre things. Voices were confusing because he could never tell if they were deep-seated desires of his or if his brain was just purposely trying to fuck him over.

She started to pull out her wallet to pay but ended up dropping something. It landed right at Tomura's feet, so he bent down to grab it. A debit card!

"I'm sorry," she laughed nervously.

Tomura made sure to read the name intently before handing it back.

"No worries, hah. Guess I got to be somebody's hero today," he joked. Fuck. Bad joke.

"That'd be the first time a hero has done anything helpful for me, then, haha."

...!

"That was a jab at heroes, wasn't it?" He thought. Now the feeling was in his chest. Maybe he's running with too little information but that definitely sounded like an "I hate heroes," joke. Oh, now he's really got to know about this chick.

"Yeah, maybe if they got off all those stacks they make they'd actually save a life, huh?"

"Hehe! You get it!"

She smiling at him and laughing. But not the fake laugh she gave the cashier. Her cheeks flushed up while she snickered at his insult to hero society and he even got to see her teeth. Crooked, like his. He felt paralyzed, being able to look at her without sneaking it this time.

"I like your hair," she said to him.

Shit. He didn't even notice his hoodie fell off when he grabbed your card. Hopefully, the shopkeeper didn't know what "Shigaraki" was supposed to look like.

"I don't see many guys with blue hair like yours."

His eyes lit up when she said that. He may have even felt a small blush creep on him. Tomura knew he had an ugly face, one that made people whisper and steadily move away from him. But she complimented his hair instead of getting creeped out by him. "Really?"

"Yea. I like it a lot. Most people go for dark blue, but your color is prettier."

Pretty?!

He could swear that he can see her getting flustered. Is he making her blushy? He didn't even do anything but have blue hair!

"Sorry, that was weird," she stammers, realizing that the word "pretty" could've offended him.

"Oh, no. You're okay. I like your hair too, the way you styled it is nice," he beams, hoping to earn some flirting points. She flashed him an adorable smile back, so he must've struck a chord.

"Ma'am, I don't mean to interrupt, but there's a line," the cashier says, getting her attention. The way the cashier abrupted her made him lowkey angry, feeling instantly protective.

"Oh, right."

The way her voice shot down maybe two octaves was so funny to Tomura. She was so bubbly and flustered with him and yet so dry and indifferent with this guy. So interesting. It's a good thing he made sure to remember the name on that card. Her name fits her so well, too.

She paid for the shirt and started leaving the store. Fuck, no! He didn't want you to go just yet.

"Stop her."

"Grab her."

"jesus christ shut the fuck up!" Tomura mutters to himself as quiet as he could. He was trying so hard to think of how to get your attention again, but before he could, you had already been no where to be found.

"Short bitch, I'll find you."

He may have thought of that one voluntarily.