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herearedragons · 15 days

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The Hanged Man (chapter 1)

Read on AO3

Notes: This fic relies on some plot points from the short story "The Reaping". If you want the full context for the fic without having to read the short story (which I do recommend, btw), see the AO3 notes or scroll to the bottom of this post.

Edér had imagined his own death way too many times.

There was the war, for one. He'd try not to think about it much, but sometimes things would happen and leave him wondering if that would be him, too.

Stabbing. Slashing. Arrows. Bolts. Broken necks, burned bodies. Slow deaths from wounds gone bad.

And besides your usual pick of deaths, there was Eothas.

Edér knew for a fact he wasn't the only one thinking about it. Lots of soldiers back then were going to sleep every night wondering if they'd just be... smitten out of existence, before they ever woke up.

Close your eyes, and the next thing you see is your god, and he goes well, Edér, you chose the wrong side, so welcome to being dead. No rebirth for you, either. Right into the void with you.

Not the most fun thought to fall asleep with.

Lately, though, it had all been the same thing. The rough, heavy noose around his neck, hands tied behind his back; the creaking of old barren branches above his head, and all of Gilded Vale staring up at him.

The funny thing was, now that he was there for real, it almost felt fake. The rope against his skin; the barrel that would soon be kicked out from under his feet; the silent grey crowd; there was a weird flatness to it all. It was all wrong, just a little off from how it appeared in his recurring dreams.

His dreams didn’t account for the rain, either.

It was just a light drizzle, but Edér had been standing under it for a while, in the same shirt and trousers he fell asleep in the night before, and by now he was soaked and chilled to the bone.

Part of him was starting to wish they’d just get it over with.

And to think that he almost got out. He should have left as soon as the bell tolled three times yesterday, instead of putting it off until next morning.

Maybe he could have tagged along with that Watcher and the twitchy elf that had been staying at the Black Hound. They were strange folks, sure, but neither of them looked too sturdy; they could have used a protector on the road.

He almost asked to come along with them. Even now, Edér wasn't sure why he didn't.

Same reason why he’d waited this long to leave, probably.

A few feet away from his improvised gallows, Urgeat the magistrate was droning on and on about the "inestimable" Lord Raedric, his care for Gilded Vale, and his love for his wife.

His wife.

When his door got kicked in first thing in the morning, guards swarming in to drag him out of bed, Edér thought it was about Eothas. He figured maybe it was also about the rebels, or because someone saw him talking to that Watcher, and that was somehow also a crime now.

He didn't think they'd say that he murdered a woman.

Lord Raedric's wife. He still didn't know all the details of it - nobody bothered to tell him, since they were all thinking he did it - but what he gathered was that she turned up dead somewhere in the village, and it was close enough to his house to make them think he was involved.

Urgeat was just getting to that part in his speech, now.

Edér had never even seen her up close.

"...spreading dissent and worship of a dead god are, of course, far from the only crimes committed by this man. When words of deception no longer satisfied his foul goals, he turned to murder, and took the life or our beloved Lady Ygrid - "

"Didn't do it."

Even from this distance, Edér could see a sour grimace form on the magistrate's face as soon as he was interrupted.

"Silence, murderer," Urgeat said.

Edér shrugged; the noose shifted uncomfortably on his shoulders.

"Just setting the facts straight," he said. "Didn't do it. Ain't ever laid a finger on her. Sure, I’ve got blood on my hands, but last I checked they were all soldiers."

Not all of those soldiers were Readcerans.

Standing on that barrel gave him a great view of the crumbling shell of the temple behind the villagers' backs - and, standing just beyond it, the house that once belonged to Osgod Rask.

They did find the corpses, eventually. Some settlers moved in, took Raedric up on his offer of land; smelled something foul in the cellar, opened it, and saw what became of the two men in the years that had passed since Edér left them there.

Those settlers didn't stay.

"So you would like us to believe," Urgeat said dryly. "However, lies will not get you out of this noose. I would advise that you save your breath."

Edér couldn't hold back a snort of laughter; not that he was trying that hard.

"Right! 'Cause I have so much breathing left to do still."

Was it his imagination, or did he hear a giggle somewhere in the crowd?

Nobody liked the magistrate. Fact was, were it him in the noose instead of Edér, they'd all be clapping and cheering.

Nobody was cheering for his hanging, at least. He’d like to believe there were some people in the square doubting that he actually did it.

The problem was that it didn’t matter.

Three tolls of the bell spelled death. Before the lady’s body turned up, it meant death for a lot of people, and probably exile for just as many; by the time Raedric was done “appeasing the gods”, Gilded Vale would have been a ghost town.

But now… Now the lord’s wife was dead, and they had one person to blame for it. And, while they were at it, they could blame him for everything else, too.

Maybe there were some folks left in Gilded Vale who didn’t want to see him hang, but they would take it if it meant that he would be the last.

Something drew his eyes back to the empty Rask house.

Daeg's ma, Lifa, had this look on her face when the bodies were found. Whenever Edér was around, she'd get that same look again, like somehow she knew.

Edér didn't regret what he did. Daeg raised a weapon against a woman and her child, which in Edér's book meant he got what was coming to him - but it didn't mean Lifa deserved to die without ever finding out what happened to her son.

Gods know he’d give a lot to find out what happened to Woden.

"Tell you what, Urgeat," Edér said. "You're gonna hang me, at least hang me for something I did."

He took a breath, preparing to confess to everything that happened with Elafa and her child and the two guards that night - and then the words never came out.

There was a figure walking through the ruins of the old temple.

"Well?" Urgeat inquired impatiently. "If you wish to add to the list of your crimes, I will not stop you, but, by the Wheel, make it quick."

The stranger was wearing a heavy black cloak with an unusually large, baggy hood. Edér couldn't see their face, but they were moving, quickly and purposefully, towards the gathering.

"I take it you have changed your mind," Urgeat said. "Very well. Let us continue - "

"Stop!"

The cloaked stranger had crossed the temple, and stopped at the foot of the tree. She was the one speaking; by the sound of it, she was a woman.

Urgeat let out a heavy, drawn-out sigh.

"Miss,” he said, "Perhaps you failed to notice that we are in the middle of an official proceeding. Whatever business you have, I am sure it can wait a minute longer."

"It cannot," she said. "By the duc's authority, I demand that you stop this execution right now."

"By the duc's - excuse me, who are you?"

In response, she simply reached up and pulled back her strange, heavy hood.

A murmur rolled through the crowd.

She was Ondra-touched. Blue skin the color of a clear sky; black eyes with no whites, two glowing dots for pupils; glowing white hair, a crescent moon-shaped growth on her forehead, and two curving horns, glowing also.

That last part explained the weird shape of her hood.

Edér had never seen this kind of godlike before, but he had heard of them.

During the war, word was that there was one of them in his division. Edér had never met the guy himself, but heard that he could fly, and that any wounds he received would heal right up. Whether the rumors about his blessings were true or not, it was impossible to say now; a few weeks in, the godlike took the brunt of a spell from a Readceran priest and died.

"Agent Selene Moonborn of Dunryd Row," said the Ondra-touched woman. "You may address me as Agent Moonborn, or Selene. Do you need to see my credentials?"

Moonborn... She sure was.

Wait - Dunryd Row?

"I would greatly appreciate that," Urgeat said, but his tone was no longer as snide as it was a moment ago. In fact, Edér was pretty sure that he heard a tinge of fear in his voice.

No wonder. If this was an actual Dunryd cipher, something serious was going on.

Selene approached the magistrate, her cloak swaying silently, and held something out to him. The drizzling rain didn't seem to bother her much.

While Urgeat was inspecting the item she handed him, she looked up over his shoulder. Her eyes met Edér's for a moment, and almost immediately moved on, taking in the rest of the hanging tree.

Was he just a part of the scenery to her, dead already?

"...Very well," Urgeat said, finally. "Welcome to Gilded Vale, Agent Moonborn. As you can see, you find us at an unfortunate hour; we have just lost our lord’s heir, and now our lady as well. Fortunately, her murderer has already been apprehended, and we are in the process of bringing him to justice."

Selene's eyes returned to the magistrate standing before her.

"That man?"

"Edér Teylecg. A troublesome individual. Eothasian."

Urgeat spat out that last word like it was a curse.

"I see," Selene said. "Unfortunately, you can't execute him."

What?

"...What?"

That was probably the first and last time he and Urgeat had ever agreed on something.

"The murder of a thayn, or a thayn's immediate family, falls under the duc's jurisdiction," Selene explained matter-of-factly. "In the absence of a representative of the duc's authority, the local authorities may investigate and persecute the crime; however, with a Dunryd Row investigator present, that is no longer the case. In other words, you can't execute this man until I have conducted a thorough investigation and determined that he is guilty; in fact, if you do hang him right now, it will be considered a crime and I will have to arrest you."

Something mesmerizing was happening. The longer she spoke, the more Urgeat seemed to shrink away from her; at no point did she raise her voice, but there was an underlying pressure to the calm, even cadence of her speech that seemed to have a nearly violent effect on the magistrate.

Even with a noose around his neck, Edér found that entertaining to watch. Judging by what he was seeing in the crowd, he wasn't the only one. Though, the villagers weren't exactly on the agent's side, either; many of them were smirking, but just as many were eyeing her with suspicion.

Urgeat made one last feeble attempt to resist:

"Lord Raedric - "

"I would be very grateful if you could arrange an audience with the lord for me," Selene said. "Tell him that a Dunryd Row agent arrived to investigate the murder of his wife, and would like to hear his testimony. I would like to see the body, as well."

There was a long moment of silence.

"I will relay your message to His Lordship," Urgeat said, finally.

Then, the magistrate turned around. His face was even more grey and dead-looking than it usually was.

"You heard the agent," he said to the surrounding guards. "Take him down."

If Selene's appearance earned a murmur from the crowd, the sound they were making now was more like the distant rumble of thunder.

Something was happening that had never happened before, and now every mind in Gilded Vale was feverishly working on the same question: what does this mean for me?

Every mind except for Edér's, that is. He was a little busy trying to come to terms with standing on solid ground again.

Still cold, still with his hands tied, still accused of a murder he didn't commit - but, somehow, alive.

The same guard that took the noose off his neck walked him up to where Selene and the magistrate were talking.

The crowd around them was beginning to disperse. Urgeat never gave an explicit dismissal, but the guards had stepped away from the tree and started giving the rest of the villagers move-along-now looks.

Most folks got the hint, and those who didn't got pulled along by those who did.

Selene glanced at Edér again as he approached; this time her gaze lingered. It felt as though she was assessing something about him.

Eventually she nodded to herself, seemingly having reached a conclusion, and said to the guard standing beside him:

“Untie him, please.”

The man just shuffled in place awkwardly and looked at Urgeat.

"I don’t know if this is wise," the magistrate said. "He may become violent."

Only if you keep talking, Edér thought; usually this kind of thought would come right out of his mouth, but not this time.

He wasn't in a hurry to go back to the tree just yet.

"If he does, I'll protect you," Selene said.

Her voice and expression were dead serious, but she was definitely taking the piss at Urgeat here.

Edér decided that he liked her.

The guard unsheathed his sword and began to saw at the rope at Edér's wrists; meanwhile, Selene turned to him and began speaking.

"Edér Teylecg, by the duc's authority, I am placing you under arrest. No harm will come to you unless you attempt to resist or flee, or your guilt is proven."

The rope fell off.

"Noted," Edèr said.

It was as if she didn't hear.

"Is there a jail in Gilded Vale?" Selene asked, turning to Urgeat again.

The magistrate smiled thinly:

"There are the lord's dungeons."

"Understood," she said. "House arrest it is, then. Please inform the vilagers that they are not to visit the suspect while the investigation is ongoing."

And, just like that, Edèr’s fate was decided.

The walk back to his house was silent.

Edér was leading the way, the agent following behind. He could barely hear her steps; a couple times, he even got the urge to turn around and check that she was still there.

He didn't. Wouldn’t want to do anything that she could interpret as "trying to flee or resist"; Edèr had a funny feeling that, despite not having any visible weapons and being a head shorter than him, Selene had her ways of making him regret that.

His mind was still all over the place, trying to work out what his current reality looked like.

He didn't die. He was walking the path back to his house, which, about half an hour ago, he was never going to do again.

There was a Dunryd Row cipher walking behind him. She somehow knew about the murder that happened just this morning; she couldn't have come all the way from Defiance Bay, could she?

Where did she come from?

Why did she stop the hanging?

It was fun watching her have a go at Urgeat, but, now that the magistrate was gone and Edér was alone with her, he did very much want to know what she was planning to do with him.

Now that he thought about it, he didn’t really know what a cipher could do.

There were plenty of folks who came to Gilded Vale saying they were one, and claimed all sorts of powers: some said they could see the future, some that they could read minds and souls. Most of them turned out to be a fraud, and at least a few of them ended up on the tree.

Nothing he could remember about them gave him a frame of reference for what a real Dunryd Row cipher was capable of.

Killing him, probably. Whatever else they taught their agents, Edér was pretty sure they had that part covered.

He was still thinking about that when his house came into view.

Suddenly, Selene's voice sounded behind his back:

"Stop."

He stopped.

"Is that your house?" she asked.

"...Yeah."

"Do you live alone?"

"I do."

"There's someone inside."

…Well, that wasn't right.

"It's just one person," Selene said after a moment. "We can approach. Stay behind me."

Before Edér could ask how she could tell, she walked past him and headed straight for the door.

The only option left was to follow her.

Up close, Edér could hear it too: something was happening inside. There was a heavy scraping noise, like something was being dragged across the floor.

The door gave no resistance when Selene pushed it open; the bolt got broken earlier that morning.

She stepped inside.

The room was a mess. There were drawers open; his clothes were in a heap on the bed; the tools that were supposed to hang on the walls were laid out on the big dining table.

The scraping noise was coming from the far end of the house, where a man was trying to drag a chest out of the corner.

The chest was heavy. Edér knew that, because that's where his Saint's War armor was; his sword and shield, too.

There wasn't much left in the house worth keeping under lock and key, but his armor and weapons were two of the things he did think could be stolen.

Turns out, he was right to worry.

"Excuse us," Selene said.

The man stopped struggling with the chest and froze.

"...Who's that?"

The shadows made it hard to recognize him, but, as soon as Edér heard the voice, he knew.

"Algar, you sheepfucker! Couldn't wait 'til I was dead?"

At the sound of his voice, the man jumped and straightened up at once, turning around to look at them, white as a sheet.

Sure enough, they were looking at Algar Bramweg: reedy, thin-haired and watery-eyed. Came back from the war with burns on his face and left arm, but he came back.

He was a meek guy, but Edér used to think he was alright. Until that moment, that is.

"Edér!" Algar nearly squeaked. "Wh-what are you doing here? Aren't you - "

"Hanging on a tree?" Edér asked grimly. "Matter of fact, I was. They let me down so I could see who was in here, stealing my stuff."

"Well, I - I thought you wouldn't be needing it anymore!" Algar glanced around with the look of a cornered animal in his eyes. "...I'll put it back. I'll put it all back. I - what happened? Who is this?"

With that last question, he gestured wildly at Selene, who was just standing there the entire exchange.

"Agent Selene Moonborn, Dunryd Row," she said. "I take it you weren't in the square when I arrived. All you need to know for now is that the hanging has been postponed, and this building is now off limits. Please return everything you may have taken from here; it could be evidence."

Algar looked completely lost, now.

"...Evidence?"

"In the investigation of Lady Ygrid's murder," Selene clarified. "Like I said, this is all you need to know right now. If you're confused, ask one of your friends who were present for the hanging; I don't have time to repeat the details."

Algar looked over at him.

Edér shrugged:

"I'd do as she says, if I were you."

When Algar was done emptying his pockets, it turned out that he had picked up a couple of smaller tools, Edér’s entire whiteleaf stash, a handful of copper pands - and the book of prayers that survived year after year of purges in spite of Raedric’s efforts, safely hidden on top of one of the ceiling beams.

That last one puzzled him.

Algar didn’t just take the book - he was looking for it. There was no way for him to stumble upon it on accident.

“Alright,” Edér said, “The coins and the whiteleaf, I get. Tools, too. But what did you need that for?”

Algar didn’t quite meet his eyes when he answered:

“Well, so many of those got burned or thrown away, I figured - the right folks would pay a fortune for one that’s still intact.”

So he was going to sell it. Made sense; more sense than Algar secretly being a devout Eothasian, anyhow.

Once Algar had left, Selene shut the door behind him. She regarded the broken bolt for a moment, then said:

"This will have to be fixed."

It wasn't clear whether she was talking to herself or to him.

Then, she turned around and addressed him directly:

“Please, take a seat.”

It was damn weird to be invited to sit down in his own house. Felt like an insult more than anything else; Edér had half a mind to say something about it, but thought better of it.

He pulled a chair out from the dining table and sat down.

As soon as he did, he regretted it. His body realized that he was no longer on his feet, and took it as an invitation to crash; immediately, his limbs felt heavy, and his head began to spin.

The entire morning was now catching up to him. Waking up to guards in his house; being dragged to the square; standing in the rain, counting the seconds left until his last breath.

How long had he been awake for? An hour? Felt like two entire days, at this point.

Black bones of Eothas, he’d almost -

No, wasn’t the time for that. He’d think about that later, or maybe never.

He kind of liked that second option better.

His hands were shaking just a little; probably because he was still really cold.

Edér looked up at the agent.

“Mind if I start the fire?”

“...Oh.” It was as if she’d just realized the same thing he did. “Not at all. If you want to change your clothes, I’ll wait by the door.”

Well, that was nice of her.

He took her up on that offer.

Once he’d gotten a fire going in the firepit and changed into the clothes Algar so kindly left out for him on the bed, it was much easier to believe that he was, in fact, still alive.

Algar was going to take his whiteleaf, but he’d left the pipe right where it was. Figures; he had his own.

“You smoke, agent?” Edér asked, just as she stepped back into the room.

“I don’t, but you can go ahead.”

And so they sat down at the table, the fire in the middle of the room casting their shadows onto the far wall, the smoke from his pipe rising like a sheer curtain between them.

He was at home, now, and a little more certain that he could handle whatever Selene was about to throw at him.

“Suppose I should thank you,” Edér said. “If it weren't for you showing up when you did, would have been one more corpse on that tree - and Algar would’ve been smoking my whiteleaf just about now.”

For the first time since she walked out into the square, he saw Selene’s expression become something other than a distant, observing look.

Her eyes narrowed just a little, her pupils twinkling like twin stars in the night sky; she didn’t really smile, but her face softened in a way that made him think that maybe it was her way of smiling.

“It was a close call,” she said. “I’m glad I could stop them from hanging an innocent.”

Whatever Edér expected her to say, that was not it.

He didn't think he'd feel that much relief at hearing her say it, either. Of course he didn't murder the lady; he knew that. Half of Gilded Vale probably knew that too, but none of them would ever say it out loud if they wanted to stay safe.

But how did Selene know?

"...You figure that out with your cipher powers?"

The only other option he could think of was that she killed the lady, and Edér really hoped it wasn’t that.

“Good guess,” Selene said.

Her eyes drifted away from him for a moment, like she was considering something, or hesitating.

Finally, she said:

"I'll get straight to the point: I wasn't sent here to investigate the murder of Lady Ygrid. As far as I know, no one outside of Gilded Vale even knows that she’s dead.”

It took him a moment to process what she was saying.

“...Wait, so… what’s all this for?”

Selene sighed. Something was gone from her voice and her posture now - that invisible pressure she used against Urgeat. It was as if an act had been dropped.

“I came to Gilded Vale on Dunryd Row business that had nothing to do with Lady Ygrid. I happened to arrive just as an execution was happening. I read the mind of the man about to be hanged and knew that he didn’t commit the crime he was being accused of, so… I intervened in the only way I could think of.”

…By lying to Urgeat.

Wait.

She read his mind?

So that was true about ciphers, then.

Oh gods. How much did she see? Did she know about - no, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t have helped him, had she known.

Was she listening right now?

“I’m not reading your mind right now,” Selene said.

Edér couldn’t help but laugh nervously:

“You’re not really helping your own case here. How’d you know I just thought that?”

She shrugged:

“It’s the first thought people have when they realize I can do this.”

Oh.

“...Well, alright, that’s fair.”

“Sometimes, I can’t help but overhear the thoughts of others,” Selene said. “Usually, those thoughts are surface-level and charged with intense emotion. Feelings of pain or anger, for example. In your case, you were thinking pretty loudly that you didn’t do it.”

Well, now he had to ask.

“...Was I… thinking about anything else?”

Selene met his eyes, unblinking.

“You were cold. And you wanted the magistrate to shut up.”

“...That sounds about right.”

She didn’t hear about the bodies in the cellar. He must have had some unbelievable luck.

Better not waste it.

“From now on, I’ll always let you know when I’m listening to your thoughts,” Selene said. “I’m saying this because I would like us to be allies.”

She leaned forward, cutting through the protective curtain of whiteleaf smoke and bringing her face just a little closer to his. The glowing markings on her cheeks, a dot and an upturned crescent moon under each eye, stood out starkly against her skin.

“I want you to help me find the real murderer of Lady Ygrid.”

This answered the question of what she wanted from him, at least.

"Why do you think I can help?" Edér asked. "If you really read my mind, you saw that I don’t know anything."

"About the murder, maybe, but you know Gilded Vale," Selene said. "I could use the help of a local. And, for better or worse, you're the only one in town I trust right now - seeing as you're the only one who wasn't almost an accomplice in another murder today."

"...Wait, what?"

She gave him an amused look.

"I'm talking about your murder, Edér. What do you think that hanging was?"

Well, that was a charged question, wasn't it.

He glanced over at the Eothasian book of prayers, still resting on the far end of the table. Was there even a point in trying to hide it again?

"Some folks 'round here would call it justice," he said, finally.

Selene followed his gaze to the book, gave a little nod and withdrew, putting some more distance between them again.

"I wish I could say it's not the same in Defiance Bay, but I'd be lying," she said. "Where you have Raedric, we have the Dozens. They don't have nearly as much power, and that's the best thing I can say about them."

"Seems you don't like them much."

"I don't. Like your magistrate, they like to point fingers, and make my work - finding the truth - harder."

She paused for a moment, then asked:

"You fought in the war, didn't you?"

"I did," Edér said. "On the right side, mind you. Got any doubts, you can read my mind about it."

Selene shook her head.

"I believe you. I just wanted to say - that’s another reason you’re a good ally to have. You did the right thing, even if it meant standing up to your god; that takes more than bravery."

Edér nearly choked on the puff he'd just taken from his pipe.

Gods damn. Would he ever figure out what she was about? Every time it felt like he was starting to get a beat on the conversation, she'd hit him with something else.

"Now here’s something you don't hear a lot these days," he said.

Now Selene smiled, but there wasn't an ounce of joy in it.

"I dedicated my life to digging up things others desperately want forgotten," she said. "Maybe I haven't gone to war against Ondra, but I can't imagine she's too happy with me, either. You had to go even further; I think that calls for respect, not persecution."

Edér stared at her for a moment.

"I've got to ask," he said, finally. "Are all of you Dunryd folks like this, or is it just you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You're getting real involved in something you've got no stakes in. Sharing all kinds of opinions. Round here, that's how you end up on the tree; trust me, I know."

Something in her expression shifted; it became cold and pointed, and, for a moment, Edér was sure that he fucked up.

"I don't like seeing people be disposed of," Selene said.

And then that chilling look was gone.

"...Besides, solving crimes is what I do. I wasn't ordered to investigate this one, but I don't think my superiors would mind, as long as I completed my original mission as well."

Edér decided that it was probably safe to start breathing again.

"You're goddamn weird, agent," he said. "I don't know what exactly I can do, but - I think I wanna help you."

Again, that smiling-without-smiling look.

"I'm glad," Selene said.

"Well... What's our move, then?"

She regarded him for a moment.

"Take a minute to recover. Clean up, eat something," she said. "Then, we'll go see the crime scene."

Notes (spoilers for The Reaping):

In The Reaping, Edér and his ex Elafa end up killing two of Raedric's soldiers, who were threatening Elafa and her Hollowborn child. Edér hides their bodies in an abandoned house; Elafa leaves the town with her child the same night.

#pillars of eternity #edér teylecg #herearedragons writing #project: the hanged man #and so it begins #oc: watcher selene #technically my birthday is tomorrow but I'm posting this early so people can get around to actually reading it

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sonkitty · 1 month

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Crowley S2 Hair Post #42

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 3, I Know Where I'm Going, not a foot

...

Sideburns Check

The above image is brightened a little.

The sideburns are still pointing to Crowley's mouth. That's what they tend to do when Crowley is not in the mausoleum during this minisode.

The space itself is within a human space with many lit candles at night. Crowley both sits and stands during the scene. All three characters do not wear hats during the entire scene. Both Crowley and Aziraphale are no longer wearing gloves.

...

Comparison

Here is a comparison picture between the last scene and this one, also brightened a little.

The curls on Crowley's right side of his head are more defined in this space than the last.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects)

Aziraphale's vendetta against the backs of chairs has activated, so there's some extra thing in his chair that he has his back to, that's not in the other chairs.

Both Aziraphale and Mr. Dalrymple sit the entire time.

Crowley stands to pick up the container Mr. Dalrymple indicates with a tumor inside.

Each character touches a glass of whiskey during the scene.

Aziraphale touches the container with the tumor after Crowley passes it to him.

Mr. Dalrymple says the name, "Dr. McFell."

Aziraphale has questions with, "I'm sorry?" and, "But if you're in such dire need of bodies, why not dig them up yourself instead of making the poor and the desperate do it?"

Mr. Dalrymple has a question with, "Seriously, though?"

Mr. Dalrymple addresses Crowley as, "Doctor," which might qualify well enough for a name substitute as a title.

Crowley has a question with, "Well, in my professional opinion, that seems to be... I say that seems to me a... um... well, what do you think?"

Mr. Dalrymple has a number and a question with, "If you two smart gentlemen can't identify it, then what are my students to make of it?" Then he has another number with, "I removed this tumor from a seven-year-old boy. "

Aziraphale has a question with, "And...is he...?"

...

For pockets, I won't log it all here, but I'll share at least the following:

Aziraphale is visually pocketed between chairs when it's shown that the back to his particular chair is different.

Crowley is briefly visually pocketed between candles when he stands.

...

Story Commentary

(For reference Post #26 (my side)) The scene starts with Aziraphale looking at the drink in hesitance.

Much like in the A Companion to Owls minisode, the camera itself is making specific choices about what it shows when it comes to drinking alcohol. Mr. Dalrymple is shown finishing taking a drink when Aziraphale is asking him about digging up the bodies himself. When the scene finishes, as Mr. Dalrymple is about take a drink, the camera cuts away before the drink actually enters his mouth.

Crowley is heavily implied to be drinking. He raises his glass when saying, "More murders! I'll drink to that!" He raises it again in agreement with Aziraphale about the item in the jar not being a foot. He reaches for a bottle filled with more. However, the camera never, ever shows him in the actual act of drinking.

...

I think this minisode is supposed to match Pestilence of the four Horseman of the Apocalypse, given the context of Mr. Dalrymple talking about the tumor.

...

Present Day Aziraphale

Let's check in on Aziraphale's side of things with the forming connection.

I'm not going over the entire scene, just a few parts.

As Aziraphale parks, or more likely the car is parking itself, the car is shown to have acquired its new extra doors in its transformation.

Aziraphale also shows the interior of the driver's door has changed.

He wears a hat with a "66" on it. Is he trying to be a demon beacon?

He uses a pocket for his notepad and pen.

The road looks different from when he walks across the street to the road shown as he arrives closer to the pub.

When he arrives at the pub, he finally sees the barrel next to the jukebox. The drawing of Gabriel he shows is different than the one the story has shown him working on. This drawing shows a turtleneck and looks more like Gabriel did when Aziraphale last saw Gabriel in season 1 at the air base.

With a look to the pub sign after exit, we are taken back into the minisode.

...

That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme

#crowley #david tennant #good omens 2 #good omens #good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #good omens analysis #good omens crowley #crowley good omens

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pistachiotalenti · 1 year

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saw this post by @georgenootfound and it OPENED MY THIRD EYE. also when dnf posted that disney vid snap i straight up thought dream was gonna kiss george's cheek (??!) so here's a fic that sprouted from both of those things <33 sort of fucked that dnf decided to get married before i could use that as a plot point but whatev /j /f

Five steps out the Disney World washroom, George hears a hissing sound.

Psssst.

It's a distant noise, one whose source he can't immediately pin down. For all he knows, it could be the flush of an especially loud toilet, or maybe one of those crazy Floridian bugs he has yet to encounter. He pulls out his phone and pays no mind to the oddity as he waits for his friends to return from the washroom. But then–

Psssst. George.

Okay, that can't be a bug.

George whips his head up, to no avail. The park is bright and bustling at night, but he recognizes none of the faces around him. Briefly, he thinks it might be a fan who's messing with him. He shivers.

Desperate, he turns around and scans the restroom entrances, only for his eye to catch on a small, flashing light in the dark space beside the restrooms. He freezes and squints into the blackness. Then the light settles on a familiar face.

"What... Dream?" George laughs.

"Come here," Dream hisses. He turns off his phone flashlight, plunging himself back into darkness.

George follows suit and steps towards him, though not without question. "Why are you whispering? And why are you in the dark?"

"So that we don't get caught."

George's footing stutters. "What?" he sputters, face immediately turning warm.

"Just come here."

George takes one last look at his surroundings before stepping into the alleyway. None of this makes sense, but at the same time, it somehow makes perfect sense now that he knows Dream is behind it all.

Now stood directly in front of Dream, George teeters on his feet and waits in nervous anticipation. "I'm here."

"Good." Dream's voice is close, inviting.

"I can barely see you," George says, almost whining. He's immediately placated by the gentle brush of Dream's hand along his hip.

"Your eyes will adapt."

George pouts. He's spent years having Dream see him and not being able to see Dream in return; now that they're together, he can't imagine going back, not even for a minute. "I can't even see colors," he jokes. "Now you want me to get night vision DLC for my eyes?"

Dream snorts. George can practically hear the smitten roll of his eyes. "Yes," Dream replies, playing stubborn.

"That's sort of messed up of you, Dream," George quips, reaching back for Dream, pulling their bodies close. "Kind of problematic, actually."

"Pro-bleh-mah-tic," Dream quietly echoes, voice low and husky.

George grins. He bets Dream can hear his smile through the dark when he asks, "So why are we standing behind the toilets? Did you call me over here just to make me listen to your horrible accent?"

"Whot ahck-cent?"

George audibly grimaces. Dream chuckles, apologetic.

"Okay, sorry. No, I– I noticed you were sort of quiet for a long time back there in the group, so I wanted to check if you were okay." Dream pauses. "Though you're sort of chatty now that it's just the two of us. Is that a coincidence?"

George titters, a mixture of touched, flustered, and amused—it's a wonder Dream can make him feel all three at once. He decides to be honest in spite of Dream's teasing, shrugging as he explains, "I'm fine for the most part. I guess I'm just tired."

"Oh. Well, we can probably find someplace to sit and rest. Maybe grab something to eat."

"No, I mean, like..." George licks his lips, and suddenly he feels very silly for what he's about to say. "I sort of miss being able to, like, touch you and stuff, and I'm just kind of tired of having to stop myself from doing that in front of everyone, or like, random fans or something."

George swallows thickly. He's no stranger to being vulnerable with Dream, but talking so openly about his feelings in a romantic context still feels horribly new to him. Communicating is better than holding it in, he reminds himself in this dreadful lull of conversation. The last thing he'd want is for Dream to worry about him just because he sucks at saying how he feels.

Luckily for him, Dream doesn't need much to understand exactly where George is coming from.

"...George." Dream brings his hands to George's face. They're so large that George almost feels like he's being cradled in a cacoon. "You want to hold my hand in public?" Dream coos, gentle yet teasing.

Relief washes over George as his cheeks turn warmer in Dream's palms. "Stop. Shut up."

"You know, that's a very solvable problem, George." Dream swipes the soft pads of his thumbs under George's eyes, a touch so soothing and tender that George's eyes just barely start to water. "God knows I'm not pulling away if you decide to whip out the PDA on me."

Dream slides his hands down George's face to his arms, and George feels so warm and full that he thinks he could power the entire park with nothing but the newfound energy coursing through his veins. It doesn't help that his eyes actually have adjusted to the dark, and he can see Dream smiling at him like he hung the moon and stars for him. "Yeah," George finally murmurs fondly, "'cause you're a simp."

"I am a simp," Dream admits, "and you fucking love it."

Dream leans down into his space, clearly holding out for a kiss. George easily grants his request and closes the gap. His hands slide to Dream's waist. He smiles into the kiss when Dream's hands twitch along his arms. This part—showing Dream just how much he cares—has always been the easy bit for George.

After a sweet and much-needed smooch, they pull away, just barely. "No PDA in public," George murmurs along Dream's lips, eliciting a small, sulky whine from Dream. "Not until after the hard launch."

Dream instantly perks up, seeming to have completely forgotten about the denied offer for public cuddles. "Wait, you'd actually want to hard launch?" he blurts. It makes George laugh, fond.

"You're an idiot." He presses one last kiss to Dream's cheek before turning to the light. "Come on, the others are waiting. They probably think we got kidnapped or something."

"Wait, how soon can we hard launch? Like, tomorrow?"

"Stop asking me about the hard launch, idiot."

"How do you expect me to not be excited about a hard launch? Everyone's gonna know that you're my boyfriend and that I'm the luckiest guy in the world. I'm gonna brag about you so hard."

"Uh-huh. As you should."

"Like, I'm gonna be so annoying about you."

"Like you aren't already," George laughs, blushing wildly. He steps into the light.

Their friend group stands not too far away. Sapnap is the first to look up from his phone and catch sight of the two of them. "Finally," he grunts with a knowing roll of his eyes.

Bad follows Sapnap's gaze. "Oh, there you two are. Where were you? Making out in the big stall?"

"No," Dream snorts.

"Not in the big stall," George adds.

Bad barks out a laugh. The girls shake their heads nearby.

Reunited as a group, they continue on with their trek through the park. The night whirs dizzyingly about them. And George holds onto it with Dream by his side, never too far, and never quite close enough.

#dnf #dreamnotfound #fic #mine #my writing #thoughts #text #georgenootfound

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kjack89 · 9 months

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Oceans Apart

Watched Ocean's 11 last night for the umpteenth time and this popped into my head as I watched the scene where Danny and Tess reunite.

Should probably be part of something larger but like. Context? What context? I don't know her.

Modern AU, E/R, post-breakup. Angst because it's been too fucking long.

Enjolras peered through the windows of the tiny, nondescript restaurant, his heart doing double time in his chest as he saw the back of the man he was looking for. He’d know the hunch of those shoulders anywhere, the way the man’s shirt stretched across a deceptively well-muscled back. Once upon a time, he’d known every inch of the skin beneath that shirt.

But that was years ago. Now…

Now, he straightened, pushed the door to the restaurant open and walked inside like he was supposed to be there, skirting the hostess stand and making a beeline to the man in question, hesitating for only a moment before reaching out to lightly rest a hand on the man’s shoulder.

Grantaire froze before slowly reaching up to cover Enjolras’s hand with his own, and then—

“Fuck,” Enjolras swore, as Grantaire gripped and then twisted his fingers.

Violently.

Grantaire let go without doing any lasting damage, and Enjolras cradled his hand against his chest for a moment, his pride far more wounded than the hand. “Hello to you, too,” he grumbled, even as he drank Grantaire in with eager eyes.

It had been far, far too long.

But Grantaire wasn’t amused. “What are you doing here?” he said, in lieu of a greeting.

Enjolras jerked a shrug, flexing his fingers to make sure they all still worked before dropping his hand to his side. “I got out.”

“You got out,” Grantaire repeated, something incredulous in the three words.

“Of prison,” Enjolras supplied helpfully. “You remember, the day I went for beer and never came back. You must have noticed.”

“You don’t drink,” Grantaire said shortly, followed by an exasperated, “Don’t sit—”

But it was too late, as Enjolras sat down across from him. Almost as if on cue, a waiter appeared at the tableside, looking at them expectantly. “Can I get anything for your…”

He trailed off. “Husband,” Enjolras supplied.

“Ex,” Grantaire corrected. “Or didn’t you get the papers?”

The waiter glanced between them, eyes wide. “I’ll give you two a moment.”

He disappeared as quickly as he had arrived, and Enjolras gave Grantaire a long, measured look. Despite everything, despite, especially, the acrimony that was rolling off of Grantaire in waves, it really was good to see him.

Even if the feeling was, seemingly, not mutual.

“What are you doing here?” Grantaire repeated.

Enjolras sighed and leaned forward. “They say I paid my debt to society,” he started, but Grantaire snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Funny, I never got a check.”

Enjolras gave him a look. “But I felt I owed you a little bit more than just time served,” he continued, and Grantaire scoffed and looked away. “Hence the drop by.”

Grantaire didn’t quite meet his eyes as he reached out to trace a finger through the condensation on his water glass. “How’d you even get parole anyway?” he asked, deliberately casual. “I’d’ve thought domestic terrorism would be an automatic life sentence.”

“I wasn’t convicted for domestic terrorism,” Enjolras said.

“Right, just indicted.”

Grantaire gave him a sharp sort of smile that didn’t remotely reach his eyes, and it was Enjolras’s turn to look away. “So you did keep up with my case,” he said, aiming for levity and missing by a mile. “I wasn’t sure, considering…”

Grantaire jerked a shrug, his smile disappearing. “Well, I did try to visit you once. Turns out I wasn’t included on your approved visitors list.” Enjolras winced, but Grantaire didn’t let him interrupt. “You know, I always told you that you needed to work on your communication in our marriage, but that one I heard loud and clear.”

“That wasn’t—” Enjolras broke off, not sure where to even start explaining why he hadn’t wanted Grantaire to visit him without explaining the rest. He huffed a dry chuckle, running a hand across his mouth before telling Grantaire, a little wryly, “You don't know how many times I played this conversation out in my head the last five years.”

Grantaire just arched an eyebrow. “Did it always go this poorly?” he asked coolly.

“Yes.”

That sharp smile was back, twitching at the corners of Grantaire’s mouth. “Sounds frustrating.”

“You were never easy,” Enjolras told him, honestly. “You were always worth it.” Again Grantaire’s smile disappeared, and for just a moment, he looked—

He looked as heartbroken as Enjolras had never in a million years wanted him to be.

Enjolras cleared his throat and looked away. “Okay, I’ll make this quick,” he said, trying to steer back on subject, if only to try to alleviate the pain in his chest when he saw Grantaire looking like that. “I came here because I wanted to explain.”

His attempt working perhaps too well, as Grantaire’s expression instantly hardened. “What explanation could you possibly have that will matter one iota?”

Enjolras wet his lips before telling him, his voice low, “You may not believe me, and given everything, I don’t blame you for that, but I swear, I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Grantaire stared at him. “Well, for someone who wasn’t trying, you sure as shit pulled it off with aplomb.” He leaned in, his eyes dark. “So by all means, Apollo, tell me, what were you trying to do?”

Enjolras met his glare evenly. “I was trying to protect you.”

“Bullshit.”

Enjolras shook his head. “It’s not. I didn’t want—”

“And did you ever stop to think about what I wanted?” Grantaire interrupted, his eyes flashing. “Because I didn’t want to be protected, not if that’s what you’re calling the last five years of my life. I wanted us to be together.”

“Pretty hard to be together from a jail cell,” Enjolras said flatly. “As the divorce papers you sent pretty clearly demonstrated.”

Grantaire shook his head. “We could’ve figured something out if you had just, I don’t know, involved me literally once—”

“Involving you would have implicated you,” Enjolras said, his voice tense, “and I couldn’t let that—”

Grantaire barked a laugh, scrubbing his hand across his face. “You think I wasn’t already implicated?” he asked, incredulous. “Tell me, do you think I’m stupid? Or naïve? That I didn’t know what you were doing all that time?”

“I—”

“Because the FBI agents who interrogated me after you were arrested didn’t seem to think so.” Grantaire let that statement sit for a moment before continuing, “We were married. We were living in the same house. Just because I don’t believe in the same Causes you do doesn’t mean I’m a complete moron.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “I never said you were,” he said quietly.

Grantaire’s lip curled. “No, you just decided to cut me out of everything.” He laughed again, dry, humorless. “I mean, hell, I wasn’t even your one phone call when you were arrested.”

He hadn’t been, but it wasn’t because Enjolras hadn’t wanted to call him. But there were multiple moving pieces that needed to fall into place, and— “I didn’t have a choice,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “You did have a choice, Enjolras. You had a choice, you made it.”

“Fine,” Enjolras snapped, “I made a choice, and I didn’t pick you, and I’m sorry, but that doesn’t mean—”

“It was never about picking me!” Grantaire burst. “Three years of marriage before your arrest and you don’t think I had already figured out where I ranked?”

Enjolras had the sudden realization that everyone in the restaurant was staring at them, so he leaned forward and lowered his voice as he told Grantaire, with every ounce of sincerity he possessed, “And you don’t think I know that if I was in trouble, or in danger, you’d firebomb the fucking Hague to keep me safe?” Grantaire met his eyes evenly, and didn’t bother trying to deny it. “I didn’t want that for you.”

“And all I wanted was to be part of the decision,” Grantaire said tiredly, all of the fight leaving him in an instant, his shoulders slumping in what Enjolras recognized all too well as defeat. “Even if there wasn’t a thing I could say or do to change your mind, I just wanted you to care about me enough to ask.”

With that, he stood, and Enjolras stared up at him. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” Grantaire said shortly, grabbing his coat. “You did it, you should recognize the gesture.”

Enjolras scrambled to follow, trailing after him out of the restaurant. “Grantaire, please, I—”

“You what?” Grantaire asked, stopping so suddenly that Enjolras almost ran into him.

“I still love you,” Enjolras said. He said it simply, starkly, hoping the quiet declaration would reinforce that he meant it. It had been all he had come to say tonight, after all, and even if Grantaire didn’t believe anything else, didn’t believe in anything else, Enjolras needed him to believe this. “You think my choice was about me not caring enough to involve you, but how could I possibly involve you? How could I possibly tell you what was going on knowing that you would immediately put yourself at risk, and all because of me?”

Grantaire shook his head, but Enjolras didn’t let him interrupt. “The only way that I could do what I did was by knowing that you were sage. So even if you never forgive me for it, I did what I had to do to protect you.”

For one long moment, Grantaire just stared at him, and Enjolras held his breath, hoping against hope that maybe, somehow, Grantaire might find a way to forgive him, even just a little. But then Grantaire shook his head, reaching up to wipe the tear from his cheek with the heel of his palm. “Yeah. Well. Right back atcha,” he said his voice hoarse. “Goodbye, Enjolras.”

Watching Grantaire walk away from him hurt more than Enjolras could possibly have anticipated, all the more so when he saw Grantaire meet up with a dark-haired man halfway down the block, grabbing his arm and tugging him in the opposite direction.

Enjolras wasn’t sure he’d ever fully understood what heartbreak felt like before that moment.

He was staring so intently that he didn’t even notice as Combeferre joined him, squinting after Grantaire. “Why is Grantaire with him?” he asked.

Enjolras shook his head. “Pretty sure that’s who he’s seeing now,” he said dully.

“No, I get that,” Combeferre said, glancing sideways at him. “I told you this was a fool’s errand from the get, after all. But why is Grantaire with a Serbian arms dealer?”

Enjolras stared at him. “He—” Grantaire’s parting words replayed in his head, and for the first time all evening, for the first time, if he was being entirely honest, since he’d gotten the divorce papers mailed to his jail cell without so much as a note, he felt a spark of something flicker in his chest: hope.

“He’s doing what he has to do to protect me.”

#exr #enjolras #grantaire #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #riffing off of ocean's 11 but this really has nothing to do with that #former relationship #post break up #angst

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stitchyblogs · 1 year

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Stitchy, How Do I Get Back into The Muppets?

Muppet memes are everywhere. They trend every time Brett Goldstein gets his hands on a microphone, or a British politician puts their foot in their mouth. Let the Muppets host the Oscars! Miss Piggy dumps Pete Davidson! Knives Out III! But, reader... it’s been a long time since you last hopped over to sip Lipton’s on Kermit’s lily pad, hasn’t it? And you kind of miss it.

I’m imagining you, dear reader. Not in a weird way or anything... I’m just being transparent about who I intend my audience to be, because I have Twitter poisoning. You know how it is, you rascal, you. I know, because I’m imagining you into existence! Let’s just go with it! Yeah, so- I bet you’re thirty something, low forties. You say ‘No worries!’ a lot, but you sure do have worries. How can you not? You’re way too online, but you hope to the Great Gazoo you’re pulling it off, looking merely casually plugged in, in public. You maybe don’t have kids, who've forced you to plumb the depths of Disney +, but you do have it, because you’re not immune to Baby Yoda and the bionic biceps of a one Bucky Barnes. Aside from that fatuous affair, you’re also in a ever evolving polycule with at least three streaming services, but they still aren’t *quite* delivering what you need from the relationship. You kind of miss being restricted to whatever 6 VHS tapes were in the TV hutch of your childhood home. If you’re too young for VHS, you at least remember having to mail actual disks back and forth with Netflix. You remember that once, practical effects were the only effects. You have taste! And curiosity! And heart! You tear up when you think about Mr. Rogers for too long, which is very sexy of you. Most importantly, dear reader, you appreciate a bit of cornball. You like a lil goof. A cheeky lil pun. A gag so cheap, the shopkeeper is looking the other way as you pocket it, secretly stoked to get it off the damn shelf already... Nobody’s looking, ya know. It’s okay to admit it! You like hokey jokes. In fact, you're spiritually wearing boxers with hearts on them right now, just in case. Not that I’m imagining you in your spiritual underwear.

Did I make it weird?

Shh, shh, it’s fine. I’m Stitchy, by the way! I am alllllll of these things too- it’s fine! Well, I’m not super into Bucky, if we’re being honest- which we are! Because we’re friends now! And you know, friends can ask each other embarrassing questions. Your question is the headline of this, so I won’t beat around the bush anymore. I’m gonna do you a solid. I’m gonna tell you.... How to get back into the Muppets.

Hey, wait! You sneak! You! That guy peeking over the shoulder of the reader I was just talking to. You’ve never seen any Muppets on purpose at all, and you’re hoping I can set you up, too? Ha! I knew it… Yeah, that’s okay. You can follow this list. I won’t rat you out, as long as you don’t tell Rizzo I said ‘rat’ in that context.

Muppet Immersion PART 1: The New Shit.

You’ve already seen the stuff that came down the pipeline in the 90’s. You Mnah Mnah’ed your butt off in your tender youth, and nowadays you still get a little confused when there’s only one Marley in non-Muppet Christmas Carols. You vaguely know that the good people at Henson Co. made post-Y2K projects, but you haven’t checked them out, because you had important, more grown up things to worry about, like curating your MySpace top eight. Then time got away from you. That’s okay, bud- because I’ve been on my muppetfrickin’ grind.

(One note: not all Muppet Materials are made with our age group in mind, and that’s okay! I’m sure Muppet Babies 2.0 has its moments, but we’re only looking at the slightly more mature pieces.)

1. The Muppets, 2011 (watch on Disney +)

They struck gold when tapping lifelong muppet freak Jason Segel to write and star in the Muppet’s comeback to the silver screen. With the expert musical-comedy midwifery of Flight of the Conchord’s James Bobin (director), and Bret McKenzie (music), a beautiful baby Muppet was born! It’s a classic tale of “We’ve gotta get the band back together and put on the best show this town has ever seen Or Else!”. The Or Else, if you’re wondering, is oil tycoon Chris Cooper’s plan to obliterate the Muppet Theater. Best work he’s ever done, I tell ya. Same goes for Amy Adams, who absolutely nails her role as the doting but levelheaded Mary, who’s fiancé is troublingly codependent with his Muppet brother, Walter. Oh, Walter. A wide eyed, whistling optimist, who deserves love and puppies and the whole entire world. In the words of Phil Spector (Yikes) to know know know him is to love love love him. A great entry point for returning, or newly budding Muppet enthusiasts. Highlights include the knock off ‘Moopets’, hostage Jack Black, and Muppet turned man Jim Parsons.

1.5 The sequel, Muppets Most Wanted, 2014 (also available on Disney +) doesn’t work for me. Seeing as it’s my guide to Muppet Immersion, I say you can skip it if you’re not feeling like another feature film, just now! My beef may not be your beef, though. (Too much Ricky Gervais, too much faux-Kermit, and not enough Walter... ((My soul will never be at rest until I understand why TPTB lost faith in Walter as the new audience surrogate. I can only hope Serial has plans to investigate.))) Maybe Muppets Most Wanted will work for you! Definitely DO NOT MISS the absolute feast of bops, again penned by Bret McKenzie:

1.5 a. “I’ll Give it To You”

1.5 b. The Interrogation Song, a thrilling double act by Ty Burrell and Sam the Eagle

1.5 c. We’re Doing a Sequel!

1.5 d. Something So Right featuring none other than powerhouse Celine Dion

1.5 e. Something So Right Demo Reel, because you need to have Bret’s Miss Piggy in your ears, too.

Whenever Piggy wears a hat with one lil’ ear out!? That’s the good stuff.

2. It’s time to play the music, it’s time to light the lights, it’s time to fire up the Baby Yoda machine to watch The Muppets, 2015. Confusing, yeah... It’s the same-named, but sadly short lived series, spun out from the success of the new films. The docu-sitcom format is a natural fit for the fourth-wall breaking Muppets. For the first time since 1984’s Muppets Take Manhattan, Kermit is solidly the leading man. We find him back in the studio, producing Up Late With Miss Piggy, amidst a flurry of Muppet interpersonal problems. As a quintessential Will They, Won’t They couple of the last half a century- it’s kind of incredible that the Muppet media that best portrays why Kermit and Piggy love each other is the one where they are very emphatically Did, But Don’t Anymore. It’s a refreshingly grown-up main story line! Aside from that- we all know C is for Cookie, but B is for B-Plots and running gags that absolutely slap. Fozzie’s beleaguered love life, Uncle Deadly’s wrangling of Piggy’s vast wardrobe, Scooter’s ongoing beef with his mother’s boyfriend, the meddling network president June Diane Raphael... I truly can’t get enough! Because they canceled it! Hmmph! And a pink satin heeled kick, and a hiiiii-ya!!

Anyway, the cameos and needle drops are expertly deployed, as fitting and offbeat as ever. I’m especially fond of Christina Applegate, Ed Helms, and Josh Groban’s appearances.

My absolute favorite episode, if you watch only one, is “Swine Song”. The network saddles Up Late With Miss Piggy with a brand manager who’s dead set on giving the show a face lift. Key and Peele, now reduced to running an Etsy shop after their own fiasco with the brand manager, feature.

I don’t know what happened, that we didn’t get more of The Muppets. Perhaps the 30 Rock-ification of the Muppets might have been more at home on a different network, with a different pool of veteran talents and sensibilities? Were we as a society just not ready in 2015 for a story about workplace friends, grounded by such sincerity? Eh, maybe. It’s no surprise Ted Lasso’s Bret Goldstein is one of the most vocal proponents for a Muppet comeback, with that in mind. Same niche!

If there is any justice in this universe… [clenches fist]

3. The Muppets Haunted Mansion, 2021, on Disney + is a welcome return to form after the platform’s first “exclusive” but paltry offering of Muppets Now (Don’t even... Don’t even bother to look…). Gonzo and Pepe challenge themselves to face their fears and spend the night in the spookiest place on earth, inspired by the beloved Disneyland ride. It’s great. If you’ve taken my advice this far and you’re still in, just. Just go for it. It’s 52 minutes. What else you got goin’ on? You’re elbow deep in some internet weirdo’s ramblings about a fifty year old troupe of talking socks.

Can’t get enough? Need to soak in hours more of puppety perfection?

4. The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, 2019, Netflix. Not technically the Muppets TM, but absolutely a must see for a burgeoning Henson buff. Did you ever see the original 1982 film? Do! It’s rentable. The Dark Crystal is some high fantasy, live action, no humans, all puppet madness. It’s disturbing and strange and beautiful. An age old tale of corruption and ideals, told by some of the cutest, oddest little creatures you’ll ever see. (Deet and Hup!!!) And I mean. C’mon. The vocal talent! They didn’t even fit Bill Hader on the wiki cheat sheet, that’s how stacked it is!

5. Fraggle Rock: Back to the Rock, 2022, Apple TV. This one’s definitely made for the kids, but it’s exactly as lovingly rebooted as you hoped.

We’re getting down to some slim, definitely non mandatory pickings, now. Uhhhh…

6. Miss Piggy made an appearance on Drag Race!

7. The creature workshop whipped up some puppets for Coldplay’s Biutyful music video!

8. And here’s a half hour supercut of a bunch of ads featuring the Muppets, in the last fifteen years or so. It’s not entertainment, per se, but at the very least, you’ll see the Kermit Sipping Tea origin.

PART 2: Outside Readings

The road to your Masters in Muppetfrickery has been paved by many scholars. Here are a few peers whose work you might like to check out, now that you’re no longer a tadpole, but a fully grown frog, with hard cover books and podcast subscriptions, and junk!

Jim Henson: The Biography, by Brian Jay Jones

This book is exactly the comprehensive, compassionate deep dive you hope it is. Watch out, though! It did make me cry in an airport.

I Am Big Bird: The Caroll Spinney Story, 2015.

A feel good documentary about the man under the bird. Available on Prime, Peacock, and others.

Muppet Guys Talking, 2017

Five of the original Muppet performers discuss their iconic characters. Muppetguystalking.com

Street Gang: How We Got to Sesame Street, 2021.

You guessed it! A doc about Sesame Street, on HBO.

Defunctland has also done some stellar coverage of the Muppets, Fraggle Rock, and more!

Follow ToughPigs.com for a survey of what's up and coming in the various Henson adjacent worlds, and top tier curation of Muppet history. They have a podcast, too!

If you are lucky enough to live in NYC or DC, you can even see some Muppets in person!

Museum of Moving Image

The Smithsonian

PART 3: The Oldies!

Whatever Muppet movies you had access to as a kid- there’s a good chance there’s one you missed! Good news is there’s still time to play catch up- whew!

Stitchy’s TOP TEN of the pre 2000 canon:

1. THE MUPPET MOVIE 1979 (Disney +)

2. MUPPET TREASURE ISLAND 1996 (Disney +)

3. THE MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL 1992 (Disney +)

4. THE DARK CRYSTAL 1982 (Rent Only?)

5. LABYRINTH 1986 (Netflix)

6. THE GREAT MUPPET CAPER 1981 (Disney +)

7. MUPPETS FROM SPACE 1999 (Rent Only?)

8. THE MUPPETS TAKE MANHATTAN 1984 (Prime)

9. THE MUPPET SHOW 1976-1981*** (Disney +)

10. EMMET OTTER’S JUGBAND CHRISTMAS 1977 (Prime, Peacock)

If you’ve missed any of the top 5, BOY HOWDY are you in for a treat. Especially if you’ve never seen the original Muppet movie. I am on my hands and Always Conveniently Off Screen Knees, begging you to give it a shot. If it’s been decades- give it a watch with fresh eyes. It’s a sweet, simple, silly story about a frog who dreams of making people happy. It’s about art, and integrity, and joy, and friendship, and it’s just about the only place you’re gonna get Hare Krishna jokes, nowadays.

Of course, this list is just a start. There were quite a few obscure TV specials and series besides, but as they are very hard to track down on streaming, I won’t insist on their viewing. I do highly recommend the series Jim Henson’s The Storyteller, 1987-1989, however. These episodes are all self contained if you can dig one up on Google, and they are exquisite pieces of art. John Hurt stars as the gruff old Storyteller, weaving fantastical yet tactile folk tales that have stuck with me for decades.

***Sheesh! The Muppet Show is like, 44 hours of television. I can do better than just point you at it in its totality! That brings us to:

PART 4: Going Right to the Source.

It’s the OG. THE Muppet Show.

By all means, crack open that laptop and follow your nose! There are legends aplenty to pick from, and just about every one of the 120 episodes has a classic moment, somewhere in there. As you scroll through the many guests, I’m sure you’ll be drawn to such greats as Rita Moreno (This appearance is The E in her EGOT!), John Cleese, Julie Andrews, Bernadette Peters, Steve Martin, Elton John, Madeline Khan, Gilda Radner, the cast of Star Wars, and Carol Burnette. They all put on fantastic shows that are essential viewing, but I must also put in a good word for some personal favorites.

Paul Williams, one of the great American songwriters, author of The Rainbow Connection and many other classics

Vincent Price, your favorite creepy uncle, and mine. (That’s right! We’re not just friends, we’re also cousins!)

Avery Schreiber, who never ever holds back, and whose episode features the fantastic Electric Mayhem rendition of “Tenderly”.

Sandy Duncan, who’s “Nice Girl Like Me” is an unforgettable, leggy revamp of the Manilow classic.

Mummenschanz, who are impossible to describe, but who would have ruled Tik Tok.

Leo Sayer, serving up three of my favorite 70’s tunes.

Pearl Bailey, bringing down the house with a pastiche sure to delight any musical theater nerd.

Harry Belafonte. “Turn the World Around” never fails to bring a tear to my googly eye.

Linda Ronstadt, lacerating the ONLY live vocals in the history of the show, and also crushing so so hard on Kermie. Relatable af

PART 4: Looking Forward

(video)

And you may ask yourself, "What Muppet Am I?" And you may ask yourself, "Why are there so many songs about Rainbows?"

What should come next for the Muppets? I say, if Disney is gonna own everything and everypiggy, go whole hog! Make Kermit the Avenger’s new therapist. Maybe he’s outside their insurance network (and dimension) but they have great rapport! Give Piggy a real late night slot, and get Grogu on to host a remote segment! Keep making the kids their kid shows, but embrace the grown up Gen X and Millennial audience with their own fare. Get back to the Muppets Sex and Violence roots, I double dog dare ya! Make a Muppet dating sim! Reboot Statler and Waldorf: From the Balcony on Youtube! Hook up Lil Nas X with the Electric Mayhem! Stop dicking me around and get the Muppets to host the Oscars, for real! Bring back my best boy Walter, and take advantage of the Muppets’ unparalleled skill for literary adaptation. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Muppet is a story that demands to be told!

Well, we do know one new series on the way in 2023- The Muppets Mayhem. A junior record exec must wrangle the unwrangle-able Electric Mayhem through the modern music industry as they record an album. I don’t know about you, but I’m crossing my furry little fingers.

#the muppets #muppet immersion #kermit the frog

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lurkingteapot · 6 months

Text

2023 post round-up/summary

Lovely @twig-tea tagged me here, so I'll try my hand.

I'd abandoned tumblr for about 4? 5? years 2016ish through 2020, had a short stint with it again in 2020, took peeks and vehemently disagreed with much of what I saw in 2021-2022, and grudgingly settled back in in 2023. I wasn't going to interact. I wasn't.

Jan-April: *crickets* I was being strong!

Then, I saw people moaning about how they'd learn Thai if only it was on Duolingo, and you know how spite can be funnelled into positivity? I did that! Result:

May

Popular: Free Thai Language Learning Resources, most popular by a landslide. This pleases me greatly, as I put a lot of work into it and always hope more people start picking up this language.

Favourite: maybe my thoughts on Ming, piggybacking off @kenmakaashi's post?

June

Popular: my musings on translation and how it relates to fannish reception of media, which was my most popular post of the year and 'broke containment', if only in a very small way. Some of the additions in the tags and reblogs are fantastic, do go have a look if you like!

Favourite: toss-up between my attempt at showing a parallel between a silly moment in Our Skyy 2 x BBS and a scrapped shot from BBS proper and this rant about Romanisations of Thai and why G**gle translate is the devil (that bit is in the conversation downthread), which let me meet @plantsarepeopletoo.

July

Popular: Summary of James Welker's 2006 essay "Beautiful, Borrowed, and Bent: “Boys’ Love” as Girls’ Love in Shōjo Manga"

Favourite: the offerings are slim here … let's go with the one in which I once more was salty about the way folks talk about BL

August

Popular: Only Friends' Ray isn't just The Drunkard, but also The One Who's basically Given Up On Himself, as per his title card (this one was so popular it got stolen and reposted – without credit or permission – to twitter 🙃)

Favourite: Thinking about Drama, the Romance genre, and tropes, and how those relate to our perception of BL (good additions from various folks in the notes; conversation with @visualtaehyun in reblogs and @twig-tea in the replies).

September

Popular: IFYLITA Ep 6 poem context notes

Favourite: toss-up between complaining about badly machine translated content in Love in Translation and musing on the name of Khun Yai's favourite bar

October

Popular: my long-winded answer to @zimmbzon's ask "Hi, how would a non-binary person (me) get around the binary gender rules and vocab in Thai?"

Favourite: uhhh … maybe my musings on honorific translations in kimi ni wa todokanai? (yes, technically a reblog from sideblog, shh)

November

Popular: most popular was this throwaway therapy vent containing food for thought and while I guess this meme is mostly fannish I'm linking it anyway because it's my blog and I'll cry if I want to (or something)

Favourite: when I called out the resemblance between the Last Twilight trailer and Intouchables (2011). Literally no one cared, but then @my-rose-tinted-glasses independently came in strong with receipts as soon as the actual first episode aired and made me feel validated af.

December

Popular: Why I'm pretty sure Last Twilight's "fried rice/false rice" joke was funnier in Thai

Favourite: the saga of the songs in Ep 4 of Last Twilight

I didn't do any round-up posts, but I'll include the other category @twig-tea added:

Five other posts that I want to highlight because I can:

BL Favourites Tag Game (July 2023)

Link to fujoshi.info with information on WHY you should check out that site if you're interested in having an informed opinion on BL and the genre's history.

contemporary issues in Thailand as mentioned in Only Friends ep 1

Thoughts on code-switching in Step by Step

Reply to @mynameisnotthepoint's comment-via-ask on my anti viki rant

I'm not going to tag anyone because I'm completely lost – I was mostly off tumblr for nearly three weeks; if you made a post like this you'd like me to see, please link me/tag me! <3

#2023 roundup #link dump #self promo (of sorts)#my nonsense

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iwonderwh0 · 6 months

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This was in my drafts since July and for some reason I never posted it.

Context: about two-three weeks post revolution. Connor wasn't in Detroit during that time (mostly) as he was with Markus and others in different states across the country.

Hank, opening the door slightly: Connor? What the fuck are you doing here?

Connor, squeezing himself into the house through the tiny gap as Hank is still too confused to stop him: Just checking in on you. Like a friend. What's up, Lieutenant?

Hank: Friend, huh...I thought you're in Washington.

Connor *kneeling down to pet the dog*: I was.

Hank: How do I know it's you and not some evil clone if yours again?

Connor with visible worry appearing on his face: Oh... You're right. You can ask me something, like you did the last time.

Hank *nodding at the dog*: What's his name?

Connor *smiling slightly*: Sumo.

Hank *looks at him squinting his eyes for a few seconds*: Can you stand up for a moment?

Connor *standing up*: Sure, what do you-

Hank: *embracing him with a hug.*

Connor *wrapping his head around him*: Took you long enough.

Hank: How did you know I'll be here?

Connor: I didn't. I thought you've evacuated, but then found out you stayed in Detroit. I wasn't sure if I'll find you here or not, so I came to check. I tried to call you, but you never answered.

Connor *nods with reproach*: I was worried about you.

Hank: Shit. I've been called so much over the span of last week that I turned the damn thing off.

Connor: That's what I thought.

Connor looks around the house and Hank cringes from painful realisation that his house is a mess. A lot more than usual. He was barely leaving it recently.

Hank: Sorry, um..I didn't expect any guests.

Connor: I'm guessing you're not a Lieutenant anymore. Right?

Hank: Bingo.

#dbh #dbh connor #dbh hank #detroit become human #dbh incorrect quotes #does this tag even belong here?#idk #platoniconk

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shigayokagayama · 1 year

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teru week day seven: birthday

Teru wished he could say he had totally forgotten it was his birthday. He wished he could have gone about his morning as normal, nonchalantly checked the date, and realized oh! He was fifteen years old today!

Instead he lay in bed, sleepless, watching the sunrise through his blinds, shivering, waiting for his phone to go off.

He had told himself last night he had to get to bed early. If they called while he was asleep they called while he was asleep, he could just call back in the morning, no big deal. Nevermind that they always seemed to be too busy to pick up the phone. Nevermind that their voicemail inbox had been full for six months.

He heard his phone buzz and sat up in bed, staring at the light illuminating his nightstand. He waited until the light dimmed before he worked up the courage to reach for it.

“Hey! Wanted to know if you’d be available to swing by the office later today, just got a big assignment and could REALLY use the help. Thank you!”

Oh. It was just Reigen.

“Sure! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ TERU✧ﾟ･:*”

Teru decided to officially give up on trying to fall asleep. It was, what, 5:30 am? Perfect time to wake up on a saturday.

As he absentmindedly flipped between TV channels he heard his phone buzz again. Reigen again?

“Happy birthday Hanazawa-kun :) Do you want to hang out today?”

Teru smiled. It was pretty rare for Kageyama to text him first. He was good enough at keeping conversations going, but initiating them seemed to be a struggle for both of them.

“You remembered?”

“Yeah! We’re almost exactly a month apart haha :)”

“☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ I have to go to Reigen-san’s around 16:00 but before then I’m free (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ TERU✧ﾟ･:*”

“I just got up but meet downtown around 9?”

“��(*°▽°*)╯ Sounds good! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ TERU✧ﾟ･:*”

“Okay! :) See you then!”

–

Teru scanned the area as he walked through the crowded streets of downtown Seasoning City. The area seemed safe enough at a glance, but he could never be too careful. The man in a blue hoodie had been walking the same path as him for a couple blocks now, maybe it was time to quicken his pace. The man didn’t speed up to match him so Teru let his shoulders relax a bit. Oh, there was Kageyama, about three blocks away. He hurried forward, careful not to lose focus on his surroundings.

“Kageyama-kun!” he called with a wave as soon as he was on the same block. Kageyama looked at him with a start and waved back.

“Oh, hi Hanazawa-kun!” he said with a slight smile. “It’s been a bit, huh? How’ve you been?”

“Ah, I’m alright,” Teru said. Should he talk about his recovery post confession-incident or would that make things weird? “School’s been alright, and my friends from the Awakening Lab have been keeping me busy outside that. How about you?”

“Ah, I’ve been so busy with school and my clubs that I haven’t really had time for anything else,” he said, “I actually haven’t really gotten to see Reigen-shishou at all since. Uh.”

He looked away uncomfortably for a moment. Teru reached out and put a hand on his shoulder with a reassuring smile. Kageyama looked back and smiled weakly.

“So! What’s the plan?” Teru asked.

“Boba?” Kageyama suggested.

“Don’t think they’re open this early, coffee maybe?” Teru said.

“Oh, I don’t like coffee that much, it’s too bitter,” Kageyama said guiltily.

“Hummingbird taste buds?” Teru giggled. Kageyama snorted and rolled his eyes. Since when did he do that? “You know most cafes serve things other than coffee, right?”

“But you said coffee,” Kageyama protested.

“I meant it as a catchall for ‘served at cafes’,” Teru explained, “Context clues.”

“Do sandwiches fall under the ‘coffee’ umbrella?” Kageyama said, thoughtfully stroking his chin and suppressing a smile.

“My friend, a coffee can be anything you want it to be,” Teru said with the intonation of a philosopher. Kageyama giggled and Teru felt his heart jump. Since when did he do that?

–

“I’ll take a mint matcha frappe with extra whip,” Teru said, stepping aside to let Kageyama order, then jumping back in front of him. “Two pumps of mint actually, please.”

The cashier stared at him blankly, then flickered her gaze to Kageyama.

“Uh. I’ll have a hot chocolate I guess.” he said

“Any adjustments?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay so a mint matcha frappe with extra mint and extra whipped cream and a hot chocolate,” the cashier said. “That’ll be 1468 yen.”

Teru reached into his pocket for his wallet at the same time as Kageyama. The two of them raced to put their yen on the counter first.

“It’s your birthday,” Kageyama said, shoving Teru’s money aside, “Let me pay.”

Teru groaned and rolled his eyes, putting the 2000 yen note back in his wallet. The cashier took Kageyama’s note and handed him back his change.

“Fine,” he sighed, “But on your birthday I’m getting you the most expensive drink they’ll let us make, got it?”

“They get more expensive than yours?” Kageyama said, voice lined with disbelief.

“Oh yeah, I totally could’ve bankrupted you back there,” Teru said as they walked away, “I swear I’ve ordered 1200 yen drinks from here before with all the syrup and caramel I’ve added.”

“At that point I don’t even think that could legally be considered a drink,” Kageyama mused. Teru heard his phone buzz and his hand shot to his pocket.

Just a spam call.

He put his phone away again, trying to ignore how much he was shaking. God, why did he have to be so weird about this? It was just a phone call.

“Hanazawa-kun? Are you alright?” Kageyama asked.

“Oh, I’m fine, just waiting for a phone call,” Teru tried to say casually. Kageyama didn’t seem to believe him. Before he could press him, Teru spotted the barista putting their drinks on the counter.

“Oh! Our order’s ready!” Teru shouted before he could say anything, shouldering his way to the counter and swiping both their drinks, handing Kageyama his with a smile. To his dismay Kageyama still seemed concerned.

“What’s the phone call about? You seem kind of worried about it,” he said.

“Oh, nothing, just… uh…” Teru knew he couldn’t dodge the question a second time without making it seem more concerning than it actually was. It’s nothing, it’s not important, he shouldn’t be so anxious about it. “Uh, the last time my parents called me was on my birthday last year. So. I thought they might again, this year. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“...Since last year?” Kageyama said. Teru’s heart dropped. Why did he have to say it like that?

“Yeah, I mean, they’re pretty busy,” Teru said, “Hey, wanna go to the river? I saw ducklings there the other day.”

“Oh I, uh, yeah… sure-” Kageyama said.

“Great! Let’s go!” Teru ushered him towards the exit, hoping the conversation would die once they were outside.

–

“...I don’t know if they got a new phone number and didn’t tell me or just stopped checking their voicemail or what,” Teru said. The shining sun reflected off the water through the gaps in the shade of the cherry trees planted along its edge. He leaned on the railing, watching a mother duck coax her ducklings from the shore into the water. It was too nice a day for the conversation he was having.

Kageyama had barely said a word since he started talking, just…listened. It felt…nice? To be heard? To be understood? To not dedicate all his effort into throwing solutions and backup plans at a problem he didn’t know how to solve?

“I just. I feel like I should have moved on by now,” he said, “I haven’t even seen them in person since I was nine. I’ve adjusted to life without them. But…”

“It still hurts,” Kageyama mumbled gently, leaning against his arm. The two of them looked out over the water in silence for a moment. Teru could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he turned to look at him.

I guess we’re even now.

He cringed inwardly at the memory of how Kageyama’s face twisted at the comment. Why had he said that? To lighten the mood? Make himself feel less guilty? Maybe the medication they gave him at the hospital had made him delirious?

He was the first real friend he’d ever had and he felt like, with every word he said, every crossed line or potential misstep, he was closer to losing him.

How do you make someone stay?

–

“You think Reigen-san will be mad we’re late?” Teru asked.

“No, I think he’ll understand,” Kageyama said, looking away in a manner that suggested he was hiding something. Oh god, Reigen probably would be mad at them, wouldn’t he? He had gotten so caught up in talking that he didn’t notice the time. Teru noticed the blinds shut as they approached the building and froze.

“Hanazawa-kun?” Kageyama asked.

“Sorry, thought I saw something,” he said, eyes narrowed. It’s probably nothing. Maybe the sun was in their eyes or it got too bright.

As they stepped into the building Teru could feel his suspicions growing. He could see that the room was dark from the hallway. Why would Reigen turn the lights off? He didn’t seem like the kind of person who would just leave without them. Had something happened to him? Kageyama didn’t seem to notice anything was off, sauntering to the door.

“Wait!” Teru said as he reached for the handle. Kageyama looked up, puzzled. “Something feels off.”

“What do you mean?” Kageyama asked.

“The lights are off, and I saw the blinds close when we were outside,” Teru said, “I think someone might be trying to ambush us.”

It was difficult to read the expression that crossed Kageyama’s face as he spoke. He stared at him for a few seconds before responding.

“Well, if something’s in there, we can probably handle it, right?” he said. Teru forced a smile. He knew he meant well, but he didn’t like being humored like this. Kageyama turned the knob and opened the door. The office was dark save for the light pouring in from the hallways. Teru could detect other espers nearby, most of them significantly weaker than himself but-

“Surprise!”

As Kageyama flicked the lights on Reigen, Hoshino, Asashi, Kurosaki, the Shiratori brothers, and Mob’s little brother emerged from the dark. Kageyama turned to him with a fond smile.

“Happy birthday, Teru,” he said.

Teru stood, unable to think of how to react. Reigen motioned to the table by the couch in the corner where a chocolate cake sat adorned with candles.

“I wasn’t sure what flavor you wanted so I made an educated guess,” Reigen said.

Teru tried not to let on how strained his voice was when he spoke.

“It’s perfect.”

–

“So, afternoon next Saturday works?” he asked.

“Yep! Have a nice night, Hanazawa-kun,” Kageyama said.

Teru looked back at him and gave a small wave as he walked towards his apartment. The building was stiflingly quiet as he stepped in and turned on the lights. As he slipped out of his shoes he looked at the clock. 12 am. One full day of being fifteen.

He didn’t even glance at his phone before getting into bed.

#i planned this last year but never actually wrote it #also it was originally supposed to be a lot more light heared but i thought abt him too long and got sad #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #terukiweek2023 #teruki hanazawa #shigeo kageyama

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emblazons · 1 year

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So this started as a post in response to this by @mel-hyperfixates but turned into a whole thing so. I'm gonna quote them & then go into...what has turned into an analysis of El's S4 narrative through episodes 1-3 in regards to Mike lol.

The basic premise was this:

i don’t think i’ll ever be over the fact that mike literally jumped off a cliff at 12 years old because of bullies, el saw it and literally saved him, and then 3 years later she’s like “you don’t know what it’s like” when mike tried to open up to her about being bullied as well

—and I wanted to expand on why that might be, so here we are.

forewarning: this is a very anti-mileven post. Also...YES. Its much more complex than just this. I'm just talking about a side of this breakup subtext we gloss over a lot lmao

In regards to El not having any thought of how Mike was trying to relate / how it seems as though she "forgot" he was also bullied...I feel like that's the thing. If you've ever been ready to break up with someone, you know exactly what El was going through, because when you're checked out of your relationship, all you focus on is the negative—even at the expense of the other person, and regardless if there is evidence to prove the person isn't as bad as your mind is making them (at least historically).

From the second we see her this season, El had stopped being vulnerable or honest with Mike entirely (see: her lying in all her letters) and had probably emotionally distanced herself before he even got there. The entirety of the first three episodes of S4 we are watching her care very little for Mike or his feelings because she is already distancing / distanced from him in her own mind—their relationship was on its last legs in El's mind even before we got to see the events of the season, but you need to look at the context clues surrounding her words and actions to see it.

From the very start, El was doing + saying things that were her last ditch attempts to throw herself into being invested in Mike by lying to him and herself ("I want this day to be about me and you, all her over-affectionate behavior, on top of how enthusiastic she sounded in her letters), but from minute one of them together we already see her honest emotions about their dying romantic relationship show up in her expressions (a theme with all characters this season)—

—and the SECOND things start getting real (see: Angela bullying her at Rink-O-Mania) the facade El was trying to maintain (in regards to her investment in her relationship, among other things) breaks down.

Even after her lies about enjoying Lenora + being friends with Angela are exposed, El isn't interested in being genuine with Mike at all, and doesn't ask Mike to protect her or even be present with her after she is bullied—she only comes out from hiding to demand Angela help her put her facade back up, because she doesn't want to be vulnerable with Mike even after he finds out she was lying.

People like to focus on how Mike wasn't paying attention to El / call him a bad boyfriend (and lets be real, he is lmao) but...in doing so we are glossing over how El is contributing absolutely nothing to sustaining her perceived closeness with Mike, or meeting Mike in their relationship in all his attempts to reconnect either.

Like, sure...we get Mike not looking at her in the van + being petty at the dinner table yes. But we also get El stonewalling him by not talking to him at all before their fight in The Monster and the Superhero, when she storms off at dinner, not sad, but angry—

—only to go to her room to mull over how she feels about herself...while making comparisons to Mike saying "what have you done" to Brenner, thinking back to several things that happened in the lab that she (at that point) thinks she did (because she had no memory of One)...aka her struggling with thinking she's a monster.

No matter how deeply you think she loves him at this point (highly debatable, no matter who you are) this is hardly the stuff of the surface level interpretation of it being at all about Mike specifically for her, never mind as shallow as something like "My main issue is I'm sad my boyfriend can't say he loves me." In fact, all of these things point not to Mike even being her primary concern at this point...even before they get into a fight about how he isn't saying I love you.

By the time the fight in her room happens, she's shutting down even his most genuine attempts to relate (see: admitting he was bullied too) because what El is actually struggling with wasn't (and never was) about him.

What starts the actual argument is her trying to say "I'm thinking I'm a monster" and him not understanding that its not about Angela, the roller rink, or even him being a shitty boyfriend, but her identity crisis over something that happened before she even met Mike, and that Mike has no experience with or even knowledge of—

—only she is unwilling to let Mike into her headspace about any of that, because (as I said before) she's already checked out of both honesty and emotional intimacy their relationship.

By the time we get to the "care" and "you don't love me anymore" part of the argument with those those letters (the secondary part of her concern), El has already put Mike on the defensive by 1) moving the conversation away from his perception of the issue without clarifying the real problem and 2) latching onto him saying he cares & putting him on the defensive by undermining his attempt to connect with her—going back to that idea that she's not been invested in telling him the truth or being close to him since the very start of the season.

Now, I don't absolve Mike of any of his wrongdoings in regards to their relationship(of which we all know there are many), but...the irony is that El isn't saying anything that would show she is invested, trusts or loves Mike either, to the point that her accusing him of not caring is borderline projection.

By the time we get to him calling her a superhero, we see that she's even more displeased than she was at the start—not even necessarily because Mike is saying something, but because 1) she doesn't feel like a superhero, and 2) he's not hearing her...because she's not communicating what's going on in her world anymore.

Mike doesn't understand what's going on with El because she's not telling him...and she's not telling him because she doesn't view their relationship as worthy of either her honesty or vulnerability anymore which is especially ironic, considering she's always cared a lot about the idea that friends don't lie.

(Maybe I'll follow this up with a "this is how El transformed when she was gone" + "why Mike saying You're My Superhero after what happened with Brenner / Vecna was literally the nail in the coffin post-Nina," but. For now, we can just stick with how the breakup / distance context was build into their relationship from minute one...and not only because Mike was trying to be "normal." In truth, El has been checked out from her relationship, emotional closeness and honesty since the first seconds of the season...and nothing Mike could have said would have brought her back into it).

#anti mlvn #el hopper #mike wheeler #my st commentary #LIKE. SHES DONE. SHE'S BEEN DONE. AND IT HAPPENED LONG BEFORE THAT GD PIZZA FREEZER LMFAOOO #like I'm sorry if you're still holding onto this idea that she's interested in them being close again but #her actions and the writing really don't support that lmao #anyway #stranger things #the me tag #st analysis

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lewisinho · 2 months

Note

as the anon that asked for the race list: thank you!

now this is totally up to you if you have the time to spend on this, but this is my first year watching the races, and while I've been doing some background research to get up to speed, there is still a lot i don't know. i trust your judgment so what are some races and/or f1 adjacent things i should look into? i'm going through your McLaren list and have watched the last 4 seasons of dts and the brawn documentary. are there any other books/ documentaries/ races (especially seb's) / old youtube videos that are lost in the void that i should also check out?

again no pressure and thank you!

no problem!

(and btw welcome to f1 and the world of watching some glorified hot wheels every other sunday 😁 it’s great!)

i completely get how daunting it can be as a new fan in the sport. when i was getting back into f1 it also took me some time to get back up to speed with everything, especially all the techy stuff; i honestly learned the most through just watching the races (old and new), bc you get to see all the strategies play out, the pit-stops, the overtakes etc. and the terminology just becomes much easier to understand through sheer exposure. there are also some really cool f1 data analysis blogs you might want to follow on twt/x if you want some more detailed tech analysis and graphs if you’re into that sort of thing: (x)

as for seb, oh there’s a whole arsenal of recs i have!

monza 2008, rise of torro rosso wunderkind; i presume you already know the lore with that one but ig you can never get tired of it.

abu dhabi 2010, world championship no.1 “du bist weltmeister!”

interlagos 2012, the infamous one. this one’s a rollercoaster, chaos everywhere and the manifestation of murphy’s law: anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. amidst a title battle against nando, seb was fighting the weather, bruno senna’s front wing, a damaged side-pod, no radio, and somehow managed to claim p6 to win the championship

malaysia 2013, multi-21 (iconique), he was faster, deal with it. 💅

singapore 2013, domination masterclass from quali to the race. (also just all of his singapore wins...lion of singapore and all that)

india 2013, title no.3 secured, changed tyres on lap 2 and came out p17, was third by only lap 13 and then won the race by nearly 30 seconds. it was also his sixth win in a row. he went on to win three more. speaks for itself. also this:

malaysia 2015, first win with ferrari, can't forget that one, also features sewis’ gay knee-touching on the podium.

germany 2019, CHAOS, in which merc got bewitched by the special livery curse 😅, with crashes, spins, 50-second long pit stops, and also features one of seb’s best drives from p20 -> p2

i also highly recommend watching Floz's fan-made docus on youtube about 'the silver war' (there are also docus for the 2014 and 2015 seasons) as well as the merc v ferrari (lewis vs seb) 2017 fight and 'fight for five' in 2018, they're so much better than dts and actually give a full run-down of what happened during the season, with all the action on-track, with interviews and providing all the context! it's so well-edited as well (you literally feel like you're watching a movie about all of the seasons) and they are just incredibly fun to watch.

in general, i love rewatching races from 2017/18 (literally my comfort seasons), personal favs include spain 2017 (strategy galore and lewis v seb), baku 2017 (for obv reasons), austin 2017; and basically the 2018 season in its entirety...

as for books, there are many driver autobiographies e.g. jb (he’s even got two lmao), mark webbah etc. but i think the best f1 book out there is adrian newey’s memoir ‘how to build a car’ if you want lore + great insight into cars!

i’d also recommend watching some older races (i could do a separate post on which ones are my personal favs) but it’s all up to you in the end! go digging, look around on yt for some highlights and just keep exploring! 🫶💜

#hope this helps!!#sebastian vettel #asks #anon

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sepublic · 1 year

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I can’t believe it’s actually ending.

Three years the show has been airing. But it’s technically been a part of my life for five. I remember when The Owl House was first announced back in February 2018, and something about that magical poster and synopsis caught my eye. Something told me to look forward to this one, that it’d be special… And I had no idea.

I remember checking Dana’s accounts studiously, impatient for more TOH content ever since that poster. Eventually I stopped, giving up… But then finally, that original teaser trailer, fully instrumental as it gave us clips from what we’d later discover were just the first four episodes! I remember my speculation about Luz going to this world, even had a dream where she was revealed to be the Anti-Christ (not that this was a bad thing in context), that sort of thing. I got hyped to hear Luz’s VA be announced, and went out of my way to find clips of Sarah Nicole-Robles’ voice acting just so I could get an idea of what was to come.

And the show started off so humbly, so regularly, I didn’t think it’d become so serious! The fact that each episode was a fully twenty-two minutes did bode well for me, but damn. Hearing characters’ voices for the first time. Fully immersing myself.

And this is it! All speculation will come to a close here, with the final episode. This is the last time we’ll get to watch a new episode, unless that young Raeda spin-off happens, but I’m not getting my hopes up because it’s Disney. These evening hours spent in anxious anticipation for the episode to drop, this is the last time it’ll happen for all of us. The last time I’ll obsessively check Discord to talk about the newest episode, scroll through the Recent tag to see fresh reactions.

I want to savor it, but there’s also pressure to do this perfectly, as a way to go off. I can’t help perfectly capture how I feel nor a proper retrospective. But in the end, I still want to do it. A part of me doesn’t want it to end, wants it go on forever in infinite hiatus. But another part of me just wants to get the pain and grief over with. My heart is beating hard and it’s been building up in pace since I woke up today.

I don’t know what to expect, but I gotta say I’ve loved watching it with you guys. Stuff as early as over-analyzing on the snake motifs which eventually DID pay off in String Bean, after that theory that Luz’s palisman would be a snake due to how the title card was designed! The way I compared the Boiling Isles to Mata Nui from Bionicle, even joked about King being the Titan. I remember being there in the early days when there was barely a fandom but still holding out, and boy have we grown since then!

I was asked for permission to use my posts as credit when speculating on King being THE Titan, though it turns out he was his son. I remember speculating on the Owl mural inside of the Owl House, I’ve made so many friends through TOH. I remember when Adventures in the Elements leaked early and it was a dream episode, ideal and perfect!

Speculating that there was more to Amity than meets the eye, and being right in the overanalysis! The vindication! Joking about her being a lesbian, seeing a Grom poster but not actually thinking we’d get a Grom episode. And then we did. Thinking we were getting our hopes up with Amity being a lesbian with a crush on Luz, and then the explosion of emotion as our hearts beat, when the note unfurled.

I remember playing that godforsaken Witch’s Apprentice app just for more content, and then seeing Rebecca Rose analyze the artifacts, with me realizing they provided hints to upcoming episodes! Man, seeing Rebecca go from an early fan who helped start it off, someone I was glad to see provide presence at the beginning, all the way to a full-on crew member! Wonderful.

Belos was known as Bellows due to a typo in the captions. Speculating on Lilith and Kikimora, who cursed Eda. Being blindsided by the climax of Season 1, and this mysterious Owl-masked figure besides Belos, because I had no clue who this was and who he’d turn out to be, no idea! No idea he and Willow would be a thing, that Belos had a brother he killed and repeatedly cloned in an attempt to get him back!

This show has broken my heart, revived me, brought life, and so forth. Season 1 was truly wild, and then the year-long hiatus for Season 2, the Reddit AMA and stream… Getting Alador and Odalia’s names early, it was lovely! The S2 intro sneak peek, in progress. Waking up to get an entire trailer! Being caught off-guard with how much the animation improved, even as I had to stay quiet for like two weeks, because the first two episodes of S2 premiered early for special guests!

Speculation on Philip Wittebane and Belos, the brothers. Seeing Luz figure out glyph combos. Hunter and Flapjack, King and Eda’s stories, as the designs updated. New palismen. The heartbreak of the show being shortened, the anger and rage. The vindication on Creepy Luz just being a scared kid who wants love and means well.

And then the next hiatus… Season 2B, the end of a proper season as everything came to another climax. We got the truth on Belos, the story coming to a close in anticipation of the Day of Unity. The Season 3 leaks, especially with the titles, and the way they came together to tell us, Thanks For Watching. Like it wasn’t ideal but the audience worked with it, the crew made it work, and the fans stuck through regardless. The crew put themselves out there in this work and we reciprocated and understood.

Just as Luz wanted and needed so badly. We had S3 and the first look at a special, depressed Luz. The sneak peek. The revelation on just how alike Luz and Camila are. And then the hype towards For the Future… When the Collector really got to shine and show us a new side that completed their character. And finally, after all of the anticipation…

The episode finished production. The finale is done, just for us to watch. The crew is celebrating, saying their final goodbyes. And my heart and gut are feeling sick, aching with grief. I don’t want it to end, but it’s making me so nervous I need it to, just for the relief and release. And the finale inches ever-closer, the SERIES finale. The end of the end.

Here’s to The Owl House, you guys. Thanks for everything, thanks for reading my posts, interacting with them, adding onto them; Responding when I responded to your posts! It truly was a magical time and still is for me. I feel like I genuinely learned and discovered a lot about myself through this show and my interactions with fellow fans, and I toast to our final get-together in watching an episode!

Here’s to Watching and Dreaming! I know that’s what I’ll keep doing once the show ends…! And thank you @danaterrace, for coming up with this wonderful show and continuing to give it to us, despite everything.

#the owl house #ramblings

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aranarumei · 7 months

Text

the anomalous agate (part two)

now: here's what some of you actually wanted to see yesterday.

a quick rundown for anyone who has no idea what this is: here's ch 1 on tumblr and ao3. I posted an updated version of ch 1 yesterday that flows a bit nicer, and recommend checking that out if you haven't already.

and, while it's even less necessary to do, consider checking this post out, too. the context in which it was written is kind of... irrelevant to this fic, honestly, but it provides a bit of background that I think enhances some of what's going on in this chapter and the next one (that I haven't written yet).

with that out of the way, this chapter is over 7k, so here's the ao3 link if you prefer. (there's also a bit of a longer author's note there at the end) if you'd like to stick to tumblr, follow me under the cut.

edit: part three

case 2-x: the anomalous agate (part two)

Even the usually oblivious Tanimoto-san noticed my listless mood in the following days. It wasn’t unusual for me to worry or speculate about my clients—everyone who stepped into Richard’s store certainly had some kind of interesting quality, but something about Hanzawa tugged oddly at my chest.

To complicate matters, I was pretty sure I wasn’t the only one feeling that way. Richard had spent Sunday carrying on as usual, but every once in a while, he’d drift into his thoughts and his brows would furrow like something was bothering him. This wasn’t a trait unique to Hanzawa’s presence, but this was possibly the first time I’d seen Richard look genuinely unsettled instead of troubled.

It wasn’t an expression I liked seeing on his face.

“Seigi-kun, you seem deep in thought,” Tanimoto-san said. “Something on your mind?”

Class had ended. I flipped aimlessly through the pages of the book on gemstones I’d borrowed from Richard before tucking it into my bag. Somehow, I didn’t quite feel as if I could meet her eyes. “You mentioned there were many gems that did heat treatment, right?” I asked as we began to shuffle out of the classroom.

She responded with less cheer than usual, and I felt dejected to be the cause. “Oh, yes… not just corundum,” she said. “Beryl and quartz, too. That encompasses a large quantity of jewels which are just named as different forms of these materials, really… heat treatment is used often to change their color. Apart from deepening the red of a ruby, there’s aquamarine—a type of beryl—which is most commonly green-blue. Heat treatment tends to enhance the blue color and really give it that expected ‘aqua’ color. One of the most dramatic transformations, to me, is amethyst—it can turn a deep orange when it’s treated with heat.”

“Ah—I saw that last weekend,” I said. “It’s meant to mimic citrines, right?”

“Citrines tend to be a paler yellow, actually,” Tanimoto-san said. “But they’re rare—especially ones with a deep orange color. That’s why heat-treatment of amethysts is so common.” She sighed, gaze drifting off in space as we headed to her next class. “When we think of the term ‘citrus,’ the first thing that comes to mind is often an orange, despite the variety of citrus fruits in other colors. Sometimes I wonder if that’s the reason people mistake amethysts for citrine so easily.”

“It fits with their preconceived notions, huh?” I said, earning an approving nod from Tanimoto-san. “I still remember what you said before—about wanting to appreciate the stones as they were without heat treatment. I thought that was a really beautiful idea.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you think so, Seigi-kun,” she said. We came to a halt in front of her next classroom, but she didn’t go inside just yet. “But we’d talked about this already… is there something else you wanted to ask me?”

I swallowed around an uncomfortable bit of air. We were early for her class—it wasn’t a particularly long walk from classroom to classroom, but I liked spending time with her—but she usually went directly inside. It’s so nice of her to take time out of her day to worry about me, I thought. But again, I knew that I must have been really out of sorts for her to notice.

“It was just mentioned in passing,” I said at her prompting, “But… well, a client was discussing agate, and I heard that some of them were dyed. Is that a common process?”

Her expression immediately soured. For a minute I thought I’d stepped on some kind of conversational landmine, but though she looked unhappy, she spoke without malice. “It’s—not uncommon, no. Agate is porous, so it absorbs dye well, as do any stones like it.” I could see her turning over her words with care. “But… while heat treatment is an irreversible process, dyeing tends to be less effective. The color can fade over time, especially under sunlight, and it may not stain evenly. And depending on what dye is used, it can be removed with solvents like acetone… so it’s a process that’s much less certain.”

“So, they’re kind of fragile,” I observed, “even if they’re made to look nicer.”

“Well, they certainly look pretty—the bright colors can enhance how distinct the banding is, so you could argue the dye only enhances the best features of agate and other types of chalcedony, but…”

“…But?”

“Dyeing stones is really common for selling fakes,” she said. “And well—I just think that’s inexcusable, to conceal the truth like that. Even though dyed stones can be detected, that’s usually only after they’re sold, right? And this often happens with online purchases, so… I can’t help but feel resentful.” She frowned. “And every time I’ve traveled to see something related to rocks, the gift shop always carried those tumbled and dyed stones! It’s hard to find anything else…”

“That must be tough,” I said, though it was hard to suppress a smile at the thought of Tanimoto-san scowling in the middle of a gift shop. She usually seemed so magnanimous, and it was nice to see that she had her weak points, too.

She pouted. “I know it’s a petty reason, okay!” she said. A touch more melancholy, she added, “But every time I see them, I want to stand up and yell at everyone that rocks and minerals are more interesting than that, because it feels like these polished stones and other kinds of jewels are the only kind of beauty that people care about. For all kinds of rocks and minerals… I don’t think they possess a beauty that is just skin-deep. But when you limit the conversation to just rocks, because they look so different, the interests just don’t overlap…” She glanced up at me, seemed to realize that the type of person she was talking about was right next to her, and hurried to clarify. “Ah—I didn’t mean that as a strike against you though, Seigi-kun.”

“No, I totally understand,” I quickly reassured her. “I mean, in an ideal world, that’s how we want to think of other people, too, right? Without judging based on the outside alone. And I think anyone would want to share their interest with more people. So, if what you like is rarer, or unappreciated, it feels sad, right?”

“Right,” Tanimoto-san said. She smiled. “…I really am glad we get to talk about gemstones. I always feel like I end up hearing something interesting.”

Not for the first time, I thought that Tanimoto-san was some kind of angel. I truly didn’t have any questions about rocks to reciprocate with, except— “There’s a few rocks that do count as gemstones, right?” I asked. “Like lapis lazuli.”

“You remembered!” Tanimoto-san exclaimed. “Lapis lazuli’s a particularly special rock, you know,” she said, a gleam in her eyes. “Historically, it was used to make this very expensive blue paint…”

“Ah—ultramarine, right?”

“Exactly!” Tanimoto-san said, clapping her hands in excitement. “Seems like you’re already an expert on it, Seigi-kun.”

“I just heard it in passing,” I explained sheepishly. “That customer from before—he and my boss talked about ultramarine for a bit.” I paused to recollect the various times I’d spotted the stone in Jewelry Étranger. “Though, the stone looks so unbelievable to me on its own that it feels strange to think it would ever be used for paint…”

“It is one of the beauties of metamorphism,” Tanimoto-san agreed. Or at least, I was assuming she was.

“Sorry, but… what exactly is metamorphism again?” I asked. “I feel like I’ve heard the term before, and I just don’t remember.”

Despite the various expressions I’d put on her face today and in all the other conversations we’d had, this was the first time I’d ever seen Tanimoto-san look truly dumbfounded. It took me a while to even realize that was the expression on her face, until she cleared her throat and said, “I guess you said yourself you didn’t know much about rocks, but… well, I thought this was common knowledge, and maybe it… isn’t?” Worriedly, like she’d just learned she was privy to a secret for which she hadn’t voluntarily been made a confidant, she asked, “I mean, everyone knows that the three common classifications of rocks are sedimentary, igneous, and metamorphic, right?”

“…That rings a bell?” I said unconvincingly.

Her eyes flickered towards the classroom—she had only a few minutes before her next class started, so I imagined she would head inside, but instead she squared her shoulders, formed a distinctly “Golgo” look on her face, and said, “Well—metamorphic rocks are basically a type of rock that’s actually a combination of other rocks and minerals. So that’s how lapis lazuli has that beautiful gold coloring—it comes from the pyrite that’s part of the rock. The main blue comes from lazurite, but there’s many more mineral components that are mixed in with an average lapis lazuli.”

“And metamorphism is how these rocks form?”

“Right,” Tanimoto-san said. “Basically, they’re put under a lot of heat and pressure, and because of that, the composition of the rock ends up changing—so, for lapis lazuli, all these separate things fuse—or the crystal structure shifts, which is a kind of complicated thing to explain… But by the end, the new rock is distinct when compared to the simple sum of its parts. Something like marble or slate… you wouldn’t call simply a combination of other things, right?”

“I would never have known unless you told me… that’s amazing,” I marveled. “In a way… it’s kind of nature’s own heat treatment, huh?”

“That’s true,” Tanimoto-san said. “Just one without any motivation.”

This was something that had always fascinated me regarding jewels. Of course, it was untrue that they existed without human involvement. But before any human had laid eyes upon it, lapis lazuli had always been that brilliant combination of blue and gold. That, to me, was something like a miracle.

“You must have had an interesting customer this week, right?” Tanimoto-san guessed.

I shook myself out of my thoughts. “What?”

“Well, Seigi-kun, you’re always curious,” she said, “So maybe it’s nothing. But this time you look like you really want to say something to someone.” She tapped the space between her brows. “Don’t let it give you wrinkles, though!”

With that, she hurried into class, taking her seat just a few seconds before the professor began her lecture. I was left standing dumbly in the hallway, stuck with my swirling thoughts. Though I’d glossed over it at first, I supposed I was of the same mind as Tanimoto-san; dyeing stones felt more like concealment than enhancement. And then I remembered what I likely wasn’t meant to hear—surely that dyed agate is prettier—and reached up to my forehead.

Sure enough, I was frowning. I wanted to pull out my phone and text Richard something along the lines of This is your fault, but that would be truly nonsensical, and really, what I wanted wasn’t to assign something like blame. But since I couldn’t just run to him, I decided to follow Tanimoto-san’s advice and smooth out my expression.

———

“Ah… Nakata-san?”

Richard had said that most serendipitous encounters were just a natural consequence of learning more about the world, but I was pretty sure this situation was the exclusive work of strange fortune. Though I doubted this surprise encounter would go as badly as the last one had, the sharp sense of déjà vu kept me wary.

Still, I inhaled a breath of crisp morning air, and replied, “It’s alright to call me Seigi.”

I was looking up at the face of Hanzawa Masato, who truthfully had been the furthest thing from my mind in the past few days. That space in my brain had been usurped and summarily overwhelmed by the tedium of classes and assignments. If I had to learn how to draw another kind of economic model using another set of conditions and parameters, my head was going to burst. In fact, my head ached at the thought alone.

Now that we were face to face again, though, the rigamarole of university had all but disappeared from my mind, and I watched his face contort into an expression halfway between awkwardness and concern. The awkwardness was a given—I hadn’t expected to run into him either. Half the reason for his concern was a girl from my university who I’d just learned was called Kaede. And the other half of his concern—a quarter of his total expression—was in response to seeing me, who’d just been shoved into the side of a building.

Maybe that was the reason my head ached. It was certainly the reason I was sitting down and staring up at him.

“Are you okay?” Kaede fretted. She had sunk into a worried crouch in front of me, hands hovering around my head like she could divine the nature of my injuries.

I pressed a hand to my cheek, which was stinging, but didn’t feel scraped, and hauled myself upright. Any dizziness I’d felt had faded, and though one of my arms felt numb, I’d gotten worse injuries doing karate. “I’m fine,” I said. “It’s just a surface-level injury. Probably looks worse than it is. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine—not a scratch!” she reported, standing up to demonstrate her lack of injury. “I had no idea he would do that, though. I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be,” I cut in before she could self-flagellate. “It’s not your fault at all.”

Were I feeling charitable, I’d point out that I didn’t think the guy in question had even meant to push me into a wall—he’d just meant to push me and bolt. But he was also the kind of asshole that cornered people against the side of a building, so I wasn’t going to defend him in the slightest.

“What happened?” Hanzawa asked.

I felt a little ill-at-ease seeing the sheer expressiveness on his face. Of course, it made sense that he’d be so frazzled, considering what had just happened to his friend, but it was uncomfortable to see his lack of composure. Like this, he looked like an ordinary, unremarkable teenager.

Kaede wrung her hands, stumbling through her words. “I—you know that senior who was bothering me? Well, he cornered me, and we started arguing, and then”—she gestured in my direction—“he hit him and ran away.”

“I heard shouting, so I came over here,” I added when Hanzawa looked to me for further explanation.

It was really as simple as that. After exiting a horrendously early class, I’d heard arguing near the shadowed side of the building. And once I’d seen Kaede telling the other guy to leave her alone, I’d intervened without hesitation. He’d started aggressively posturing at me before shoving me to the side and running away.

The sharp spike of adrenaline I’d felt at the time was now wearing off, and my injuries began to twinge. I took a deep breath, and in an effort not to dash after the guy, I suggested, “We should make a report or something.”

“Oh, right,” Kaede said, fishing out her phone. “There’s like… campus administration or something, right? Let me find out wherever it’s located.” She paused in thought. “Wait… do you two know each other?”

“We just met by coincidence once,” I said, figuring that Hanzawa would value his privacy.

It was enough of an answer for Kaede, who just laughed and said, “Masato-kun knows, like, everyone, so it’s not really a surprise!”

I was relieved to see that she didn’t seem too shaken by everything.

Soon enough, we were pointed the way of campus authorities, and I learned the full story while Kaede made her report. Apparently, this guy had been bothering her for a while after they’d met at a mixer—he’d seen her waiting to meet up with Hanzawa, and then blown up at her when she declined to spend time with him. Since he already had quite a few conduct violations on his record, the administration assured us that they’d act quickly.

Their urgency might have also been prompted by the blatant injury on my face. Every time someone turned to face me, they would reflexively wince at the circle of reddened skin on my cheek. I’d seen it in a mirror while getting my injuries checked out—I was officially deemed concussion-free, which was a relief—and had flinched at my own reflection in surprise.

Amidst the commotion, Hanzawa stayed level-headed, guiding Kaede through the motions of making a report. Even though he wasn’t a student at my university—a fact which was strangely relieving to confirm—it was like he’d gone through this process before. I thought he’d escort Kaede home, too, but once everything had been squared away, she called some of her university friends to pick her up. They arrived with a slew of inventive insults that seemed to cheer Kaede up in an instant. She thanked me again as we swapped numbers, and then she waved us goodbye as she was whisked away by her friends.

“You’re not going with her?” I asked.

“Her other friends will be much better at taking her mind off things,” he said. “Besides, they all go to your university, so they can accompany her during classes.” He turned to face me as he spoke, and though he didn’t wince, his gaze lingered on my cheek.

“I’m alright,” I said. “I even got an ice pack when we were making the report.”

“Still…” Hanzawa said. Hesitantly, he asked, “Could I treat you to lunch? Or a coffee?”

The sun was high in the sky. On one hand, I wasn’t particularly hungry, but coffee sounded nice, and I didn’t have classes until later this evening. On the other hand, Hanzawa looked like he was already regretting the offer.

But Tanimoto-san was right; I had a few things I wanted to say to him. And despite his hesitation, it looked like Hanzawa felt the same.

“Sure,” I said. “You can pick the place.”

———

Hanzawa’s coffee order was a little more complicated than mine. Hearing him rattle off his order made me realize that Richard was right to only offer tea at his shop. The café he’d picked out was like many of the other cafés I’d been to—peaceful, atmospheric, and a neutral ground for conversations. Once we’d taken our seats, we each waited in a brittle kind of silence.

Hanzawa began to fiddle with his phone, and I took it as a clear indication he wasn’t ready to talk. My coffee arrived first, so I savored it while gazing through one of the café windows. Outside, the weather had snapped into a bitter frost, as it seemed wont to do whenever I wasn’t looking. I shivered a little—even inside the temperature-regulated café, I’d dressed a little lightly for the cold—and let the coffee’s steam curl against my skin. Though I couldn’t call myself a connoisseur, I’d begun to appreciate coffee for more than its caffeine.

It was just one more thing I’d learned how to treasure since I’d met Richard. Thinking of him, I reflexively touched my face. We weren’t anywhere near Ginza, but I could imagine the shop’s entrance in front of me as I stared out the window.

“Is there something you’re worried about?”

I started, noting that Hanzawa’s coffee had appeared between his hands. He held the cup strangely, his fingers curled around the sides without any pressure; I worried that it might slip from his fingers if he tried to lift it. Still, the pose seemed so natural for him that I wondered if he’d held the tea at Jewelry Étranger the same way, and I just hadn’t noticed. Like that time, any initial hesitation of his had melted away into a self-assured grace.

“I was just thinking…” I replied, tapping my reddened skin, “it’s going to bruise.”

“Ah,” Hanzawa said. His eyes darted around the room—he could probably sense the curious looks I’d gotten, too, but that wasn’t my main concern. “You’re worried about your weekend work, I assume?”

“No, it’s—actually, yeah, I am,” I said, cutting off my instinctive denial. First Tanimoto-san, and now Hanzawa… I wondered if my face was just becoming easier to read.

“I doubt a bruised face is good for customer service,” he added, clarifying exactly where my thoughts had headed.

I explained, “I’d rather not scare the customers, and it’s something I’ve done even without my face like this, so…”

“That would be troubling,” Hanzawa said. “I’d apologize for the situation, but…”

“There’s no need for apologies,” I stressed. “You and Kaede already thanked me, and there’s no need to apologize for someone else’s mistakes.”

Still holding the cup as if it were air, Hanzawa slowly sipped his coffee. My attention was drawn to his fingers, which were exceptionally long, and neatly trimmed at the nails. “I’m glad you think so, Seigi—it’s alright to call you that, yes?” When I nodded, he set his cup down and made a confession: “I’m not entirely without ulterior motives, though—it’s not every day you meet someone with your job, you know? I like hearing from interesting people, so this is just me indulging in my curiosity, really. What was the application process like?”

“Ah… I didn’t quite apply,” I answered. Maybe I’d just developed a streak of cynicism, but I didn’t believe that he had invited me to coffee out of pure curiosity. I briefly imagined someone taking my place—making tea, talking with Richard, and learning about our clients—and felt a wave a jealousy so strong that I added, “I don’t really think he’s looking to hire anyone new…”

Hanzawa laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m just asking out of curiosity. I’m not looking for a job right now.”

“Ah,” I said, and drank some of my coffee to cover my embarrassment. “Anyways, even when we first met, I don’t think he was looking to hire anyone.”

“Is that so?” Hanzawa asked, a clear prompt for me elaborate.

I had no desire to do so. Instead, I was distracted by the thought of Hanzawa as an employee of Jewelry Étranger. He seemed like he would excel at any job related to customer service, particularly when it came to making conversation. Even now, though I was conscious of the fact that he was leading the conversation, it didn’t bother me. But he wouldn’t know what sweets Richard liked best, or how to watch his expressions to figure out if he was enjoying them. And he wouldn’t know how to brew royal milk tea—not that I’d known that, either…

“I approached him about a family heirloom of mine, and he offered me a job afterwards,” I finally summed up.

Thankfully, Hanzawa didn’t pry any further. “I can see why,” he said. “Something about you must have been unique enough to convince him, right?”

“…You think so?” I asked, ducking my head. It was amazing how one word—unique—was enough to dispel my worries. Saying I had a talent for recognizing beauty—that already made me feel like the most special person in the world. The implication that Richard recognizing that had been a testament to my uniqueness was unbelievably flustering. Rather than think about it for too long, I downed my coffee.

“I just thought that if he wasn’t looking to hire someone,” Hanzawa said, “it means that you must have been important enough to ask for, anyways. The atmosphere at your store would make one think you two had been friends for years.”

I felt warmer than usual. “I just… guess we aligned somehow,” I murmured, feeling a need to deflect the compliment. As much as I privately liked to think of our meeting as “fate,” hearing it from a veritable stranger was something else. “Richard is—he’s almost too incredible, I think. I’m lucky to work there.”

Hanzawa considered my statement carefully, and then asked, “Is it—and I could be overstepping, here, but—is it kind of a… scary feeling?”

“No, you’re right,” I said, feeling a euphoric rush of shared understanding. “It’s—I’m happy, of course. It’s impossible not to be. But it almost makes everything else pale in comparison—”

“And you begin to wonder where you’d be without it,” Hanzawa concluded, perfectly reading my mind.

I sighed. “I mean… it’s not like this will be my job forever, you know? But still, compared to going to university, whenever it’s the weekend, I feel like I’m ten times as real. Like I exist as… I don’t know, more than I am.”

“As in… you’re able to express yourself more?” Hanzawa asked.

I shook my head. “No, it’s like… I’m a more impressive person, even though nothing about me changes,” I said. “It feels like my actions have more meaning. And my world keeps expanding, each time.” When he didn’t respond, still wrapping his head around my words, I added, “…It might be a bit strange to blabber on and on about my job satisfaction. But I really think that being able to work where I do is a miracle of some kind.”

“I see what you mean,” he finally replied as he sipped his coffee. “In a way, Richard-san’s store feels like… a place that’s too good to be true, it could be said?”

“That’s exactly it!” I exclaimed. “And then once you meet Richard, it’s like… he’s a fairy prince or something that’s descended on the mortal world…”

Hanzawa fell into a sudden coughing fit.

I scrambled out of my seat, but he weakly waved me off, and so I stood over the table, watching him regain control of his throat. “Are you alright?”

He took a few deep breaths. “I’m fine,” he said, though he looked obviously embarrassed as he met my eyes. “I was just—taken off guard, I guess. You must really respect Richard-san. Have you… told him this?”

With a new understanding as to why Kaede had so uselessly hovered around me, I slipped back into my own seat. “Well, of course,” I said slowly, wondering what I wasn’t getting. “I needed to express my gratitude to him.”

Hanzawa stared up at the ceiling like he’d received some kind of divine revelation. “And he reacted… well?” he ventured.

I suddenly remembered the many, many times Richard had scolded me for speaking without considering the implications, and I grimaced. “I’m not great with words, so I’ve definitely put my foot in my mouth a few times, but… sincerity is worth the embarrassment, I think,” I said, refraining from adding that I liked to think it was at least part of the reason he’d hired me. “And, though he’s annoyingly mysterious sometimes, he’s sincere to me, too.”

“How nice…” It was impossible not to hear the wistful edge in Hanzawa’s voice. He seemed to hear it too, because he added, “Well, I do wish you two the best,” with a knowing smile.

It wasn’t hard to pick up on the distance in his voice. Despite talking about Richard and the shop, Hanzawa hadn’t once mentioned his own visit or his upcoming appointment.

Before I could prod him about it, Hanzawa cleared his throat and asked, “You’ve finished your coffee?”

I looked down at my cup, which had been empty for quite a while. “Yeah,” I said, bracing for a quick goodbye.

A strange look passed over Hanzawa’s face as he drained his cup, and he set it down on the table with a soft clink. His gaze moved sideways—I followed his line of sight, but it led nowhere. “If—if the bruising is a problem,” Hanzawa haltingly began, “I could… I might have a solution.”

The words looked painful for him to say. “You’re already treating me to coffee,” I assured. “There’s no need to do me another favor.”

He shook his head, firmer. “This… as I said, this was kind of a selfish request, anyways. If you’re willing, I’d be happy to help.”

I wasn’t about to turn down the chance to hear him talk. Maybe, if I gathered enough courage, I’d even be able to ask him about dyed stones. “Well… what did you have in mind?”

———

Much like the first time I’d visited the jewelry section of a department store, I was beginning to feel overwhelmed. This time, it wasn’t at the sight of diamonds as far as the eye could see, but of the bright lights, glossy photos, and shelves upon shelves of products I wasn’t sure how to name. I half-recognized some of the brand names scattered around the store, but otherwise felt wholly out of my depth.

Were it not for the presence of a guide, I’d have never come here. But Hanzawa was shifting his feet next to me, a skittish look in his eyes like he was convinced I’d back out at any moment. That was the same way he’d broached the subject, too, saying, “Well… you could probably cover that bruise with makeup,” in a tone so soft I’d barely heard him.

“How?” I’d asked, pouncing on the option a little too eagerly.

Hanzawa drummed his fingers against his empty cup. “It’s pretty easy,” he said. “I could teach you, but we’d have to buy some products, because we don’t have the same skin tone.” He mulled over his next words.

“There’s a department store near here,” I offered.

At that, he seemed to relax. “My older sister is really into makeup and costuming,” he said with a light laugh, “so I ended up being forced into knowing a few things myself.”

Things moved quickly after that. He paid for my coffee, and I followed him to the nearest department store before he could have too many second thoughts. It wasn’t like I didn’t understand his hesitation—we were still practically strangers, and this was an offer that required considerable involvement on his part. Still, more than anything, I didn’t want to skip work. And as little as I knew Hanzawa, he seemed like the kind of person who would never suggest something that wasn’t an actual solution.

“You’ll have to lead the way,” I finally prompted.

Hanzawa paused and corrected his posture. “Right,” he said, picked up a basket near the entrance, and then struck a path through the various displays, waving off staff with a polite, inscrutable smile.

For all he’d been hesitant, Hanzawa navigated the store with a brilliant kind of confidence. Apart from the two of us, there were barely any men in the store, but Hanzawa didn’t look out of place in the slightest. Soon enough we were left to wander around unapproached.

Finally, we came to a stop in front of a display that carried a variety of tubes in a variety of skin tones. Hanzawa leaned forward to inspect them, and I caught sight of the barely visible piercing holes in his ears.

“You’re not wearing earrings,” I observed.

He answered me without turning his head. “I suppose it’s a leftover habit from high school,” he said thoughtfully. “I didn’t wear them in class, because—well, it’s a bit of a delinquent look, and I was the president of the disciplinary club.”

That explained why he’d been so composed when helping Kaede earlier. I wonder if he’d acquired that sense of reliability from his time in the club, or if had been the reason he’d joined. “What… am I supposed to get, here?” I asked, pointing at the display.

“To cover your bruise, we’ll need concealer, foundation, and a setting spray, probably? So right now, we’re looking for foundations that match your skin tone. What color do you usually bruise?”

“…Purple, I guess?”

“Then we’ll get a yellow color corrector to offset it,” Hanzawa said, plucking a foundation from the shelf. He held it up to the light—the color was kind of close to my skin, I supposed, but there were a lot that looked just like it.

“How are you supposed to figure out the right color?” I asked.

“Oh—you can sample it,” Hanzawa said, and he motioned for me to hold my hand out. We swatched various foundations on the back of my hand as Hanzawa explained to me the basic methodology for covering a bruise. The color corrector would negate the purple hues of my bruise, concealer would properly cover it up with my actual skin tone, and foundation would provide a smooth cover that blended with the rest of my face. The setting spray was just to make sure everything held for the entire time I was working. “You’ll probably want makeup brushes, too,” Hanzawa said as he explained how to apply everything. “We can buy some, or I could maybe lend you mine…”

I could see him trying to work out how to lend me makeup brushes in a way that wouldn’t require an additional meeting. “No, I’ll get one of my own,” I said.

“You sure?” he asked.

I nodded. “It’s kind of weird to say this, but… somehow, I feel like this may not be the last time I need something like this?”

Satisfied with the last foundation we’d tried, Hanzawa showed me how to remove all the makeup on my hand before leading me to another display. There he found a standard set of makeup brushes and gingerly placed it into his basket. “Well, I suppose you do lead quite an exciting life,” he commented.

“This is the first time I’ve gotten injured,” I said. “But there are a lot of interesting people at Richard’s shop, so I guess I do end up having interesting experiences.” I paused. Like this, actually, I didn’t say, and instead asked, “You mentioned your older sister taught you this?”

“It’s not really that I was taught,” Hanzawa clarified. “It was more like… a natural consequence of existing around her? I ended up knowing a lot of the terminology, and I’d get dragged to places like these, too. At that point, you have to at least learn the basics.”

I’d never had a sibling before, so I wondered if it was natural for everyone to pick up skills from their family like this. With my mother, we’d always maintained a certain sense of distance, and with my stepfather overseas, the only one who could maybe qualify as family was Richard. Who I had, indeed, learned a lot from. “And you learned more on your own, afterwards?”

“Well, at my high school, our cultural festival holds a cross-dressing competition each year—it was an all-boys school, hence the tradition—and I ended up learning a bit more because of that. One of my classmates actually attends cosmetology school, now, which is where I learned how to do this.” He gestured in the direction of my reddened cheek.

I reached up on instinct, suddenly conscious of the fact that I was walking around with such an obvious injury. I’d attributed the stares of passerby to the fact that I looked out of place in a makeup store, but this was probably the real reason.

Hanzawa studied my face, and his tone gentled. “It’s been a valuable skill to me,” he murmured. “Makeup gives us the ability to beautify.”

Hand still pressed against my cheek, I confessed, “I’d never really thought of it that way, before. Though I don’t really know anything, really. But I’d always thought of it as… having something to hide, I guess.” I felt like a fool as soon as the words left my mouth.

“Well,” Hanzawa said, still low and quiet, “I suppose we are aiming to hide that bruise of yours. But there is value even in concealment, I think.” A wry smile graced his mouth. “Speaking of.”

We’d lingered for too long in one place, and so we moved to collect a bottle of setting spray and a pale-yellow color corrector before stopping to search through a row of concealers. As we compared various shades on my hand, I recalled the conversation I’d had with Richard about tiramisu.

“…Don’t people also value the truth, though?” I asked.

The shade Hanzawa had tested was far darker than it had looked in the tube. He paused over my hand, and without lifting his head, said, “Perhaps I’m being cynical… but I think most people only value the truth when it is beautiful.” He paused to dab a different concealer on my hand. “I don’t think you’re wrong—people do value authenticity. That’s exactly why so many makeup advertisements discuss how to achieve a natural look, or how to enhance your natural features by smoothing out ‘imperfections’… we’ve defined a kind of beauty that is meant to emulate reality, but that doesn’t mean it is reality.”

Though I couldn’t see his expression, I could hear the raw sincerity in his voice. Something clicked into place, and I realized that for Hanzawa, enhancement was the same as concealment.

“The kinds of beauty we recognize are usually just skin-deep, huh…” I said, echoing the conversation I’d had with Tanimoto-san.

“And everyone prefers to be beautiful,” Hanzawa said.

Yamamoto-san, too, had thought that beauty was a great advantage. “Doesn’t beauty come with its own disadvantages, though?” I asked. At Hanzawa’s curious look, I paraphrased how Richard had described his own experiences. “Like, if you’re so beautiful that people think you’re unapproachable, isn’t that hard?”

“I suppose so,” Hanzawa said. “You’re talking about a kind of… unreal beauty, right? Like your boss.”

“Ah… was it obvious?”

Hanzawa smiled. “A little.” He hummed for a bit in thought, and then said, “In either direction, I think there’s a fear of… standing out, or looking odd. That’s why we’re here. Though I suppose there might be some people who have enough pride to eschew standards.”

The shade he’d just tried was a perfect match. “When you put it that way… there’s definitely times I don’t want to say everything about myself,” I conceded, remembering how I’d felt when confronted by Mami-san’s deep, uncomfortable sense of shame. “Having that kind of pride is… an ideal, but just that.” As much as Richard liked to ask if I had ever decided to think before I spoke, I, too, had things I found hard to say.

“That’s everything, I think,” Hanzawa said, adding the concealer to the basket. “I’ve got makeup wipes with me, so you can just have them. Since we’re here, though, do you mind if I make a quick detour?”

“Go ahead,” I said, and Hanzawa drifted through the store at a leisurely pace, inspecting different products. I took the time to observe the various advertisements pasted around the store, noting that Hanzawa’s description hadn’t been incorrect. Then I observed the array of colors scattered around the store as Hanzawa inspected different kinds of eyeshadow. “I guess blue is rare here, too.”

“Hm?”

“I was just reminded of ultramarine,” I said, pointing towards the overwhelming set of pinks and reds in a collection of lipsticks. “It was prized not just because the stone was precious, but because blue was a rare pigment color, right?”

“…Lapis lazuli sure was a precious stone,” Hanzawa replied. “In addition to blue’s rarity, I’d think it would be hard to collect pieces without significant gold spots. When ground into pigment, those colors would muddy the blue. If one needed to source pure blue lapis lazuli for ultramarine, that would only further increase its rarity and value.”

“Wait, are you majoring in economics?” I blurted out, a little bewildered by the clarity of his explanation.

Distracted from his inspection of an eyeshadow palette, Hanzawa turned to squint at me, bemused. “No, I’m not,” he said. “Are you?”

“I am, yeah.” I floundered, wondering how to explain that for just a moment, Hanzawa had reminded me of Richard. Maybe he was training to be a diplomat—that would explain why even when he spoke casually, every word felt measured. He was certainly better at speaking than me, who couldn’t figure out how to casually ask him what he was actually majoring in.

At my lost expression, Hanzawa laughed and went back to searching through eyeshadows. “…You actually remind me of someone I know.”

“How so?”

“A few things, I think,” Hanzawa said. “You’re both… open to many new experiences.” Though the fondness in his voice was palpable, it was deeply careful, like he was letting me know the shades of some terrible secret.

“You don’t find them exciting?”

“And equally likely to be hurtful,” he rebutted, though not aggressively.

Hanzawa took my answering silence as agreement—which it partially was—and continued looking around the store. Conscious of the time we’d spent wandering, he explained, “The color I’m looking for is uncommon. Eyeshadows have more variety than lipsticks do, but the majority stay within the range of pinks to browns.”

“Even though it’s not a problem to make blue pigment anymore, it’s still a matter of supply and demand, isn’t it?” I surmised. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone wear blue lipstick.”

“The kind of people that do are amazing to me,” Hanzawa said. “Whether it’s simply a matter of liking it or wanting to be deviant from the norm—I think there’s a great strength in accepting oneself as anomalous.”

Finally, he picked out a sparkly lime green eyeshadow, and after holding the color up to the light, tucked it into his basket. It was no wonder he’d spent so much time searching—while accompanying him, I hadn’t seen a single product that looked like it.

“You really are fond of that color,” I noted.

Hanzawa froze for a moment. “It’s for—the cultural festival, actually,” he explained. “I’m helping them out.”

“Oh, I do something like that too—it’s with the karate class I used to attend back in middle school, though,” I shared. “You must be close with your juniors?”

As we entered the checkout line, Hanzawa said, “I think it’s something like a leftover sense of responsibility. That guy… we used to be in the same club.”

Before I could ask him what that guy meant, our attention was redirected to the cashier in front of us. She looked surprised to see two men in front of her, but quickly began scanning the items before her. “Picking up products for your girlfriends?” she asked with a smile, clearly hoping to ease our nerves.

Hanzawa stepped forward, partially obscuring my view. “It’s for my older sister, actually,” he replied, the same smile mirrored on his face. “I just hope I’ve gotten it right!”

Caught up in his mild, inconsequential lie, I stood there, hands hung limply at my side, as I realized that apart from her initial shock, she hadn’t once glanced at my cheek. To be accurate, Hanzawa hadn’t let her. This was probably what he’d meant by the value of concealment. It was like when Richard had pretended not to speak Japanese at that department store. While it wasn’t the truth, it was the option that limited any unwanted misunderstandings.

…Was it really because of his older sister that he’d learned how to do makeup? Or was that just the easiest explanation?

We exited the store with our purchases, and I handed over the eyeshadow to Hanzawa. He slipped it into his messenger bag, and in return, produced a pack of makeup wipes for me to take. “If you forget what to do, there’s a bunch of tutorials online,” Hanzawa reassured, gesturing to my bag of makeup.

“Thanks for the help,” I said. “I had a nice time, too—I feel like I got to hear from an interesting person, as well.”

“Don’t think too much of it—I was really just rambling,” he said dismissively before offering me a tight smile. “I do hope work goes well for you this weekend.”

“…You’ll know, won’t you?” I asked, summoning a bit of courage. “Since you’ll be there.”

“Ah,” Hanzawa said, and stilled before giving his confirmation. “…Yes, I will.”

With that promise exacted from him, we naturally said our goodbyes and parted at a nearby street. The early morning chill had faded somewhat under the sun, and as I made my way back to campus, I thought about the many ways Richard’s face might change upon seeing Hanzawa arrive at his appointment. He wouldn’t give me a raise, but I’d get something out of it, nonetheless.

#cfojr #my writing #hanzawa to tashiro #hanzawa masato #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #the anomalous agate #<3 loved seeing the responses to ch 1 again btw.#and apologies for any typos i might have missed!#I think I could edit this more for like. minor flip flopping on how I phrase sentences but #if I do that this would never actually get posted lol #other things: I considered splitting this ch into two (pausing before the cafe) but decided not to #in return ch 3 is likely to be much shorter #in fact every ch should be. I’ve only got 4 scenes left including the epilogue #though how much does that mean. sure ch 2 was 4 scenes but yknow what was 1? ch 1.#jeweler richard

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