#he’s very patient with electro

[voltrixz]

ELECTRO. SHOCKER. ELECTRO SHOCKER. AGRHHRHH. electroshocker and their contrasting personalities and how it affects their relationship……. (I would ramble here but I got shy so rambling in tags )

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

w.count: 2k - he who is the most patient also yearns the most

zhongli met you for the first time when you came to the harbor on a extensive, work-related trip. some sort of negotiation at the port with certain shipment partners and possible trade opportunities. you had come from port ormos in sumeru, so he imagined you would get moving onto inazuma for the same thing before long. as luck would have it, you never made it that far before the nation of electro closed its borders. so, at that point, you were now essentially stuck in land of geo for the foreseeable future.

he had run into you when you were appraising some goods that had come in with a group of merchants ; those specific good were on your list to inspect to see if they would offer anything worth decent mora. perhaps it was fate that when he had passed behind your back, he heard you murmuring something about not knowing enough about a certain vase's story painted it on with aged, chipped paint. zhongli was the walking know-it-all of liyue, so of course without prompting, he flit over to your side and explained what you were looking at for you (after scaring you since you didn't hear him walk up beside you and instead of a proper 'hello' he just jumped straight into the explanation).

from then, he would often see you at the docks. clipboard in hand or a ledger of some sort that you would be reviewing. on the rare occasion, he would just see you strolling around with nothing on your hands so he took it upon himself to occupy the free time you seemed to use by relishing in the sea breeze.

you had been in liyue for over a year when zhongli's heart dropped deep into his stomach. his very core filled with dread as you inform him that since inazuma had finally lifted their restrictions, your work would soon resume as usual. you would soon be relocated to the far-off islands of electro. the tea he had been delightfully sharing with you previously now tasted too bitter on his tongue to continue drinking at the news.

"will you ever return?" his voice was quiet, not nearly as confident and proud as he usually was. it resembled a child asking if their best friend who was due to move away would ever visit them again.

the relationship you grew into with zhongli was special to both of you. he treated you so well and educated you in things you were clueless about. you confided in him and when liyue was at risk of drowning, you were the one who he ran to first when all was settled. you still remember that night so vividly.

you were at the harbor- as usual- but instead of working, you were helping pull stranded milieth out of the sea or helping people getting further inland as the waves violently warned you of doom. when the ocean calmed and the storm clouds that plagued the sky dissipated, you felt a weight off your chest. as you checked around to make sure people were alright, you were quickly snatched away by your wrist. being dragged off to a more secluded corner of the harbor docks behind a stack of, now storm weathered, crates.

zhongli had never understood the phrase 'word vomiting', but what he told you behind those damaged and rain-soaked crates was most definitely so. his gnosis had just been traded, no longer in his possession, and he could finally, finally tell you everything. it definitely wasn't how it was supposed to happen. his whole identity spilled in the span of a several ramble while shakily holding onto your wrists like you'd float off to sea if he didn't anchor you down next to him.

"of course i'll come back." you reassure him. his hand releases it's soft grip around his teacup and lays the back of it on the table like it had given up on keep any sort of grip on anything. you understand his silent offer and place your palm on top of his. "i promise. as soon as my work in inazuma is finished and i get everything completed in sumeru, i'll come and visit you as often as i can."

feeling your pulse on the junction under the heel of your hand, he knew you were being truthful. of course, you hadn't lied to him before so he would believe anything you said regardless of the circumstances; though perhaps that was his own personal bias in a way. you could tell him you were the reason the sun rose every morning and he'd believe you- you shone so brightly in his eyes, so naturally that must be why.

you chuckle from across the table and he looks at your quizzically. you tap your fingers rhythmically across his wrist that's covered in brown fabric. your opposite arm comes to rest its elbow on the table and your palm supports your cheek.

"what me to make a contract just so you feel better?" zhongli blinks before he's craking a smile back towards yours.

"you jest too much."

"do i?"

"it's endearing."

your 'contract' is just sealed as an earnest promise he'd keep in his chest until you come back to him. on the day of your parting, zhongli kisses the back of your hand, your knuckles, and your cheek.

"for safe travels, swift work, and my sincerities," he had justified. you returned his affection with a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"for no reason other than i want to." zhongli kisses your lips for the very same reason before you board your ship that takes you far, far away from him. he doesn't account the time he spent watching your ship sail further away with his hands behind his folded ever so neatly back until it was completely out of sight. he stares at the horizon and almost wishes that it would bring you back.

it doesn't.

it doesn't.

so, zhongli waits.

the lord of geo has been alive for millennia, so the passage of time was something inane to him now. a few years is attuned to that of a blink in the grand scheme of his long, long lifetime. however, those years he spent without you at his side or in his shadow felt like centuries.

mortals squander their time, fleeting at it is, and they know they will never live forever. they will fill it with new things every day because it could be their last- they would never know when their time would come.

"it's been a long year" or month or day; all those phrases zhongli hears and agrees to in mundane conversations- but mostly just so he can identify and align with the masses as an unquestionable human. he never understood those phrases. yesterday was as long as today and will be as long as tomorrow and so forth.

the years you spent gone with only letters sent back and forth between the both of you made him feel closer to morality than anything else before. the days did feel longer. the years felt dragging. the months felt stretched. it felt like time was slowing down, dawdling and twiddling its thumbs while he was stuck suffering in its demanding sluggish waves.

it made him feel human. the terrible impatience for something or someone to come back home. the agony of the wait and the suspense on if it would happen at all. and while he wishes to feel closer to mortal life and connect to his people in such ways- this way- this game of time just made him irritated.

zhongli didn't remember the last time he had felt impatience so thick, but it began gnawing at his insides with the last letter he had received.

'my work has finally concluded, so i'll be coming back to liyue as soon as i send this letter out to you!'

those were your final remarks penned by your hand before it made it into his. when did you send this? a week ago? two? he didn't know. you neglected to date it. every day he goes to the harbor, checking morning, noon and evening to see what ships have sailed in and if you'd be on one. or perhaps you would be coming from sumeru by means of the west by the chasm, coming on foot and would simply waltz into the city.

zhongli didn't know and each day felt longer and longer.

it turns out, the horizon did bring you back to him. it just took it's sweet time in doing so.

out on the harbor once again, a ship was docking, and he saw you before you saw him. the back of your head moving as you help people unload their cargo and help them off the ship before you dismount yourself. it had been years since he had seen you, but he would never forget what you looked like. the features that wouldn't change.

walking- gaiting- down to the harbor's lowest levels was the giddiest he had probably felt in his whole life. antsy. his chest was a mess, it felt like farmers were tilling into his insides. as he stood off to the side of the dock, mindful not to block anyone's path into the harbor. his foot tapping, and hands opening and closing in repetition just for something to do with all his antsy jitters.

you must've spotted him when he was lost in his own mind since it was his name coming from the voice he memorized years ago that turned his head. you were leaning over a stack of crates that you were previously helping unload, waving so enthusiastically he was afraid you'd swing your arm into someone's head.

zhongli is someone who is very aware of affection in public areas with lots of eyes darting around. he was reserved in a way that he feels his affections were best left to the privacy of him and his choice partner. this day was an exception since the moment you were within his reach, you were crashing into his chest, and he was holding you prisoner there.

he could feel your pulse under his hand that held behind your neck to keep your head pushed against his chest. your warmth from the sun that had bathed you the morning voyage back to him. the smell of the sea breeze against your clothes and skin.

it was evident that you had changed over the years- an evitable happen stance he expected. you were only human after all. but you were still the same as he remembered. you were comfortable and warm and safe and here.

when zhongli finally returned some freedom to your range, which wasn't very far since his hands still settled comfortably on your hips, he mapped out exactly how you changed in comparison to his memories with his roaming gaze.

"how long will you be staying?" he asks.

"how long can liyue put up with me?" you answer and you feel his chest rumble in a chuckle under your palms that rest there. "i'm not sure yet. i plan on staying at wangshuu inn for the time though."

"nonsense." zhongli shakes his head and one of his hands leave your hip to brush the back of his knuckle against your cheek down to the corner of your mouth. "my home has more than enough space to accommodate your presence."

"i was going to ask," you pout and feel your face get hotter, but it wasn't because of the sun, "but i didn't want to feel like i was imposing."

"please do. you're more than welcome to 'impose' on me anytime you wish." you give in quickly much to his delight. you hoist your bags up, which he promptly takes from you without so much as breaking a sweat, and offers you his other arm. "we have much to catch up on."

when hu tao hears that you had come back to liyue, she suddenly isn't so upset that zhongli never returned to work that day.

[roach-master]

my personal theory about Vox’s death

cw: discussion of mental illness, transphobia/homophobia, typical 1950s shit

also i am very tired rn so this might be confusing as hell xD

So Vox died aged 30-40s, during the 1950s. I’m going to start this off by saying that if Vox was a fit young man in those times, he likely would have been drafted into WW2. Now you could say he died then, but the war ended in 1945.

So my first assumption is he was deemed unfit (due to mental illness or the fact that he is bisexual), or he is a transgender man (that’s mostly me projecting, though).

For the sake of this I’m just gonna say it went both ways.

I think during life vox was a television broadcaster of some sort. Since WW2 opened up opportunities for more genders to work, he could still have been quite famous.

However, he was also greedy, selfish, a huge attention seeker, and overall pretty unhinged. He might have gone and tried to kill someone who he saw as a rival. And that, along with how queer people were treated, could have easily gotten him thrown into a mental institution.

Now, asylums in the 1950s were absolutely awful. They were overcrowded, the patients were experimented on, etc. just generally NOT where you wanted to be back then.

They used (and still use, although it’s much safer now) a treatment called electro convulsive therapy (ECT). During these times though, they were unmodified, which is now considered unethical. Now, ECT is a treatment that involves essentially shocking the brain, forcing a seizure. My theory is he died from that, and thus ended up in Hell.

I think this would explain his general paranoia, and need to keep his true, more evil personality secret. He clearly tries to appeal to the public as much as possible and fears imperfection. He doesn’t show his true side, not even to his apparently closest friends. He’s scared of being seen as crazy.

Vox is incredibly smart. He knows that nobody in Hell is a good person (Fuck, he would probably use that as an excuse on why he doesn’t need to genuinely change. He’s still evil, after all.) but he’s terrified of what might happen if he doesn’t present himself as perfect. People might reject him, and of course he doesn’t want that. He craves attention, his worst fear is being worthless, irrelevant, and tossed away like nothing. Just like he was before he died.

But that’s just a theory. A VOX THEORY (im sorry)

[glitch-karma]

hello! can i request the headcanons of bsd boys (ADA, port mafia, guild, DOA, and hunting dogs) playing genshin impact? i wanna know what is their fav characters/elemental/region hehehe~ thanks in advance!

I LOVED writing this one

Dazai

I can see him liking Pryo characters the most

Someone who plays for fighting and building, not for lore and quests

HIS TEAM IS SO CRACKED LIKE BRO GO OUTSIDE???

I can see him maining Klee/Diluc

Definitely, the type to brag all the time

Joins people's worlds to steal stuff then leave like an asshole

I can see his main team being Diluc, Xiao, Ganyu and Xingqiu

When playing with ANYONE he'll pull out Klee and burn the grass to annoy tf out of them

Kunikida

No.

Played it maybe once cause Dazai forced him

Did not understand the point in it

Ended up uninstalling it literally an hour later

Ranpo

Has been playing it even before Dazai

Has almost every character (and ALL of them are built)

Mains Heizou for Obvious reasons

Likes swirling electro the most

Likes to humble brag but in a mean way

"Yeah I mean, I only play it on occasion I guess I'm just good!"

He's lying

In reality, he spends way too much of his and Fukuzawas money

Definitely still not so patiently waiting for Dansleif to be playable

Atsushi

Dazai got him into the game

He plays it mostly for the story quests so his characters aren't very built

LOVES Anemo and Dendro

He was so excited when Baizhu was announced

He cried really hard when he did the Chasam quest

Mains Kazuha

He LOVES Collei so much

When he first started the game he was confused why Barbra wasn't doing any damage

Cyno reminds him of Akutagawa

Yosano

Got into it from random ads

Mains Beidou and Yelan

Has been pulling for Shenhe for so long but still doesn't have her

LOVES Inazuma

Fav vision is definitely Electro

She has played through all of Shonens quests

Poe

Ranpo forced him to play and he likes it

Ranpo helps him with domains and farming

Enjoys the lore and how it's written, specifically Khaenri'ah lore

Is also waiting for Dansleif to be playable

He's an Albedo main

Relates a lil too hard to Sucrose and Xingqiu

Chuuya

Played to try to surpass Dazai

He wants to out-damage Dazai so bad but..

Poor baby doesn't know how to build correctly.

like he gave a physical build to Yanfei

Chuuya LOVES Cryo

He definitely at one point was a Kaeya main

He freaked out the first time he did 2k damage

Joins Dazai's world and says "You suck" Then leaves

Akutagawa

Only plays it because Dazai plays it

Has tried to get good characters to earn Dazai's approval but he ALWAYS loses his 50/50's

Gets on calls with Dazai to try to show how good he is

"...Why did you put blizzard strayer on Diluc." "..."

Trys to get every character Dazai has

Honestly, he doesn't know what he's doing

Fyodor

Bought an acc from someone with insane stats

Bullys kids on the internet with it

Nikolai

He plays unironically (Unlike Fyodor)

Definitely does that ritual of throwing characters off cliffs before wishing

DEF a Hutao main

Has Fydor to actually play but always fails

That trend where you change the models of your characters? He's ALL about that

Changed Klee into a cursed model of a duck

Sigma

Mains Layla because he loves her

It's his comfort game after a long day at the casino

He plays for the lore and character design

Ango

He doesn't really have time for games

Jouno

Genshin, unfortunately, doesn't have accessible playing for him

I don't think he'd play either way but oh well

Tetchō

He saw a picture of Itto and Immediately installed it

Doesn't understand the cooking function

Is also confused about the look of the food

After meeting the Adepti he actually tried eating flowers

Jouno stopped him

Likes Xiao cause of the sticker of him eating snow

Tachihara

Thinks it's a stupid anime game

[ephemeral--dreams]

Something Interesting. (3)

Dottore/Reader

Rating: T

Word count: 1598

Warnings: Dottore is his own warning, experimentation, you know the drill by now 

Notes: Dottore… (said affectionately)

( part two )

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

Sometimes, his segments do things with you instead. You can predict how things will go depending on what point of his life the segment is from. The younger ones tend to be more volatile, prone to outbursts, and more likely to go too far. The older ones have toned down those parts of themselves, though that desire to experiment and see just how far he can push has never left him. Not even your Dottore is normal by any means.

Yours. That's what you consider him, but it's really that you're his. For better or worse. 

(That fact is never more obvious than after one of his segments has had their way with you, in how he hovers around you for the rest of the day. You'd almost call the behavior possessive.)

☆☆☆

Recently, his tests have involved a new form of delusions… He's trying to make them stronger, apparently. The side effects are much worse and happen much faster, in return for this extra power. Ideally, he wants delusions to function just like a regular vision, but he's been entirely unsuccessful, and your body is paying the price for it. 

It's particularly bad this time. Whatever he's done to the delusion, it's reacting very badly when paired with the vision you already have, completely uncontrollable in your hands. You end up on the floor, twitching as the electro delusion shocks you over and over. You feel as if you can't even take a breath, can't move outside of the involuntary jolts it causes as it electrocutes you. It doesn't stop even after he takes the delusion away.

Distantly you hear him muttering about how this was another failure, jotting down some notes before he returns his attention to you.

"D-Dottore-" You hiccup out, nerves alight with pain, the fizzling of electro simultaneously numbing and agonizing.

"Hush, hush. We'll end the experiment here."

He slides the scalpel across your throat, quick and efficient, and then it's all black.

Mercy killing, he'd called it once. "You're lucky. Most of my patients don't get the kindness of a quick death to end the suffering. But you even get to come back to life after. Isn't that nice?"

Of course, he only ever lets it happen after he's gotten all the data he wants, and only if it's so bad he can't patch you up. Quite often you simply have to suffer the aftereffects of whatever he does, instead of getting the clean slate of revival. It is what it is. 

Pain is a familiar, nearly welcome friend at this point in your life. What really unsettles something deep inside you is when he's gentle with you after. For all the suffering caused during his experiments, his treatment of you outside of them has slowly become more and more affectionate. Not that you dislike it, but… It makes you feel restless, makes your heart beat erratically, makes you anxious with how unfamiliar it is. 

It's strange to think that your fondness for him may be returned in any way. Maybe the experiments are driving you insane, making you delusional. But there's not really any denying the way his smile softens when he speaks to you, the way he strokes your hair when you lay there exhausted on the operating table, that tone of voice he uses when he says goodnight or good morning that you've never heard him use with anyone else. 

…Well, it could always just be the privilege of being his favorite test subject and no more than that. But either way, it's much, much harder to get accustomed to when you've never been treated that way by anyone before. 

You may be an enigma, but he's equally as much of one.

☆☆☆

All of the Harbingers come into Dottore's office sometimes, whether for a check up or for an injury. Without a degree he may be, but Dottore is the closest thing to a real doctor that the Fatui has. If you're there when someone else shows up, you generally stay out of the way. The relationship between him and many of the others is rocky. It's best not to get involved. It's certainly not your place to. Still, you observe. 

The eleventh is rarely in Snezhnaya, but when he is, he always seems far too eager for a fight. It's unsettling.

The fourth, seventh, and tenth are elusive. You've only seen them in passing. 

The third, you've been warned, is a siren that you shouldn't be lured in by. Dottore doesn't want you getting too close to her. So you don't.

The eighth is cold, and seems to think she's more threatening than she is. Or perhaps it's that you're used to dealing with people that would terrify anyone else? 

The ninth is by most often. He's cordial, smile ever-present, but you've really only exchanged greetings and introductions with him. (You remember the third time he'd shown up and seen that you were still alive, the way he'd turned to Dottore in surprise - "Taking partners besides me? How unusual." "Let's say it's a pet project of mine." "One using my funding?")

The sixth… Reminds you of what you could have turned into. Somehow, he's even more bitter towards the world than you are. Today, you sit at Dottore's desk quietly, while the balladeer has your usual place on the operation table. Something about malfunctions? You don't know the specifics of what he is or how he functions, just that Dottore had to check him over more often than the other Harbingers, and that he seems to hate it as much as Dottore loves it. 

"I need a tool that I don't have on hand. Wait here," Dottore leaves the room. It's all background noise to you - you're occupied helping go through the doctor's files. But the weight of eyes on you becomes hard to ignore. You look up. 

"Do you need something?"

"Trying to figure out what kind of idiot you have to be to look so peaceful over there. Do you really not care about anything he does to you? I know damn well he doesn't spare unique subjects from the worst of his experiments."

"Speaking from experience?" Hm. Perhaps a bit too antagonistic to be saying, but what's he going to do? Fellow immortal being he may be, but he can't do any more to you than anyone else. 

His glare is frigid. "You're lucky I can't punish you for speaking to me that way."

"Sure. But to answer your question, it's not as if I came here unwillingly. Why would I be afraid of him?"

"I see how it is. You're just his doll, aren't you?" He lets out a small, bitter laugh. "You're no better than I am. At least I don't go along with anything he wants. Do you even realize that he's just using you?"

"You seem to misunderstand. I handed myself over for him to use."

"Foolish. But why stay this long? So pathetic you can't live without him, or something? What's keeping you here?" 

You tilt your head, contemplating what he wants from you. The only thing keeping you here is your agreement with Dottore, but that's not what he's asking. You could still leave. You could go anywhere else and be anyone else, without the threat of death in your way. 

Oh, but that's the obstacle. Meaningless death and disillusionment, drifting aimlessly. An existence practically devoid of any purpose. You'd had more than enough of that already.

"...If I'm going to burn to ashes forever, it may as well have a purpose, don't you think?"

He pauses. He's silent for so long you think he's done talking to you, which is fine. It's not as if you came here expecting to speak to any of Dottore's coworkers. But then he finally responds. "Better you than me, then."

Dottore returns, and that's the end of it.

It isn't until later on, when you're helping organize the lab for the evening, that Dottore questions you.

"You don't usually talk to any of my other… patients."

"Well, he initiated it."

Dottore's gaze is assessing. Is he worried about you getting yourself into trouble with the other Harbingers? Or is it… You'd almost ask if he's jealous about you giving someone else attention, but surely he wouldn't care that much about what you do. "He doesn't usually chat much, either."

"...Mm. He just pointed out some similarities between us, is all. I don't know. I can't imagine he's that interested in me."

"He hates humans. But you're such an anomaly that you're not quite human yourself, aren't you?" Dottore waves a dismissive hand. "Or perhaps he envies that you have a heart. Who knows?"

You have a heart, sure. But it only beats for one reason.

You wonder, sometimes, if you hadn't ever met him, hadn't come here - would your heart have simply died in your chest? Gone cold like the frozen world outside?

"Come along. Apparently we've had some imported inazuman sweets arrive today. The sugar will be good for replenishing your energy."

"I'm coming," You follow after him without question. You almost feel like a pet about to be given treats by their owner… Well, it's not dissimilar to that. It doesn't matter. You're perfectly happy to spend more time with him. If he didn't feel the same way, he certainly wouldn't offer these sorts of things to you - he'd simply leave you on that cold table alone. 

And as for what may have become of you, had you never met him…

…It's not worth considering. 

[darkness-and-books]

Sudoku Challenge

Spock x gn!reader

⚠️: language

word count: 493

You were going through your things when you stumbled across a book of sudoku. You weren't even sure why you had it, you hated that stuff. You think that maybe you bought it before you knew what Sudoku was and just never threw it away. You were about to throw it away now, but then a brilliant idea and immense curiosity struck you. You took it with you down to the bridge.

"Hey, Spock!" You called when you saw him, he turned slowly to look at you. "Yes, Lieutenant Y/L/N?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "I bet you thirty credits that you can't do this whole book in two days!" You said as you walked nearer to him, waving the book in front of yourself the entire time. "An interesting hypothesis, Lieutenant," Spock replied, taking the book in his hand and flipping through the pages.

"Have you a pen?" He asked, still looking down at the Sudoku. "Uh, let me see," you paused, patting yourself down, you didn't have any pockets but you usually kept one clipped to you somewhere.

You finally found behind your ear, "here," you said handing spock the pen, "Good luck, " you chuckled as you walked back into the turbo lift and headed down to engineering.

*There's no way he'll finish it in two days, that thin is like 300 pages, four puzzle a page*, you thought to yourself as you stepped out of the turbo lift. There was a medical bed sitting at your station, a whole fucking medical bed.

"What happened to this thing?!?" You called to scotty as you stood in front of your station. "I'm not sure, but it started zapping patients, McCoy had it taken away entirely," Scotty explained, "Alright," You let up as you picked up your tools and slid down to the ground.

You opened up the panel on the side of the bed and slid in. Looking at it for five minutes, you figured out that there was a quantum breakdown in the phase rubidium core, a simple fix, the electro-ceramic shell just had to be uncoupled.

You quickly got to work removing the electro-ceramic shell in question, but it was a very delicate matter and time consuming too.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N," Spock deadpanned, scaring the shit out of you, you hit your head on the underside of the medical bed. "Crap! What's up Spock?!?" You asked as you slid out from under the bed.

"I believe you owe me thirty credits," He stated with a slight smile, handing you the book and pen as you stood. "You're kidding, right?!?" You asked incredulously, "I assure you I am not," He said as you flipped through the book.

"Well damn," you huffed, "I guess I owe you thirty, " you chuckle. Spock looked around for a moment to make sure no one was around. "Don't worry, T'hy'la, I won't hold you to it," He assured you, pulling you close to him for a kiss.

[nc-vb]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧

note -> pls accept this little Scaramouche/gn!reader blurb from last year as an apology for being bad at updating? it was part of the original version of Heartstrings, but the plot has since changed anyway, so... ya.

warnings -> none; takes place after the delusion factory chapter in Inazuma; reader is a Fatui executive under Scaramouche with a vision that can heal...

words -> 1.9k

“You…” Your hands having risen instinctively at his appearance, you swallow thickly awhile trying to come up with a not-so-suspicious greeting. “Lord Scaramouche, sir, I-I… What are you doing here, sir?”

Arms crossed, chin raised, and eyebrow cocked, “I’ll have you answer that very same question for me. What business did you have at the Grand Narukami Shrine after dealing with the Traveler?”

“Er… being in Inazuma has left me feeling more spiritually inclined than normal, sir, so… I-I’ve decided to take up on religion,” you mumble flatly, immediately inwardly cursing at yourself for spouting such a shitty lie.

“Funny. Try again.” You sigh at him.

“I’d heard once… that you had ties here in Inazuma,” you start, your tone quieter than usual. “Rather than bother you with my questions, I… initially came here to check on the Traveler’s condition, but then… I ended up… speaking with Guuji Yae, but…”

Scaramouche shuffles his hands to his hips, looking almost pleased by the idea of you being turned away. “Oh, the fox woman wouldn’t tell you?”

You shake your head. “Not exactly. When we started speaking of… other things, I decided I’d rather chance waiting for you to want to answer me, yourself, if I ever asked them. If you ever wanted to answer me.”

Scaramouche’s hard gaze seems to linger on you from beneath his hat, something that leaves you warm, cagey, and a little concerned that just maybe, he doesn’t believe your ignorance to be false, after all.

“I simply… was worried about you,” you add.

“Worried,” he parrots, sounding almost offended. “Why would I need you to worry about me?”

“If you’re suddenly seeing things as if I’m making you out as weak or as looking down on you, that’s not what’s happening here, sir.” Past him, you look to the cliffs you knew would eventually bring you to a lesser shrine but a moment after feeling the sharp crawl of electricity creep up your back. “Could we walk and talk, sir? The Electro energy the mountain channels is starting to fry the hair off my arms…”

“… fine.”

And so, you lead the way, trapped between the quiet of a promised conversation and your nerves, unable to speak and walk at the same time. It’s a surprise to you, just how patient the Balladeer is being. Perhaps in your constant busyness, with your typically need to leave your Harbinger stress-free from these menial duties, you’ve never truly noticed just how differently the man walking beside you treats you. How much more patience he has for you versus the rest of his underlings. It didn’t even have to do with you being his second-in-command, because if it were anybody else in your position, this conversation might not have gone so non-aggressively. At the very least, what’s mutual knowledge between the two of you is that your relationship has always been one of respect, and not one drowned for fear of him like the others have so easily admitted to.

Finally, having descended the rest of the mountain, now far away from the crackling and sizzling of its natural Electro pond, you lead the Balladeer to the front of the abandoned shrine, to sit at its steps and take a large breath. Scaramouche remains standing, arms at his sides, eyebrows now pinched.

“S-So… I just… recalled,” you clear your throat, eyes flitting up to meet his briefly before flying back down into your lap, “that you had a look on your face when the Tsaritsa gave the order to have us come out to Inazuma. I remember you once saying that you were from here, and I was only wanting to be prepared to help you in any way I could. And then, the next look on your face when you were given the Gnosis by Guuji Yae…”

“And so, your first choice of preparation was to go and gather intel on me from that fox envoy?” he queries.

“I-I suppose,” you murmur. “I didn’t want to overstep or… um…”

“Or what?”

“… or make you sad.” You finally look up at him, not in sudden confidence, but of the pure desire to simply look at him. As per usual, his impassiveness shines clear as day in the night air, illuminated by the lanterns glowing along the shrine’s engawa. “Lord Scaramouche, Lady Guuji Yae did not tell me of your history by my own request. Instead, she helped me reach a certain point of clarity of myself regarding you… That the reason I sought her out to speak about you was more b… because…”

“You’re burning the midnight oil, here, ______.”

You huff at him. “It’s because I’ve grown extremely fond of you,” you finally blurt. “Romantically, if that wasn’t clear. I-In other words, I believe I’ve fallen in love with you, Lord Scaramouche.”

… there is a moment of silence that leaves your heart aching. At the very least, you’d expected a retort, or a comment of disapproval for bothering him with something that might’ve seemed so trivial to a man like him, but in his wordlessness, he simply stands before you, eyes trained hard in your direction.

Throwing his foot up against one of the steps to your left, you find yourself suddenly trapped between him and the railing, the air in your chest swirling. And everything happens all too quickly – his hand finding the crown of your head to tilt it toward him; his gaze rising and falling between your widened eyes and your parted lips; his subtlety in wetting his own dried lips, tongue darting carefully past his teeth to soften them, before leaning into you and pressing them firmly against yours.

You can’t control the noise that escapes you, nor your instinct to brace yourself against your surroundings — the porch, the step beneath you, the railing, his chest — in your attempt at registering the Sixth Harbinger’s actions.

He is unmoving in them, indigo eyes half-lidded as he studies your face, your reaction to him. When he just barely moves his mouth upwards, his lower lip slotting between the two of yours, and carefully moves his hand to fall to your nape, he catches your flinch of surprise, feels your fingers tighten around the sleeves of his shirt. In pulling away, he hears your small noise of disappointment, and takes in the heat resting upon the apples of your cheeks.

“L-Lord Scaramouche,” you pant, and from the corner of your mouth, you lick away the bit of saliva that remained. Was it yours? His? He’s not sure he cares.

“What?” he says, tone accosting. “Wasn’t that the definition of the “love” that you desired from me? You and I have worked together for long enough to know that that is an undeniable impossibility, and yet you still decided that the best course of action to take would be a confession?”

“I-It’s not so simple like that!” you argue, and you push his leg off the step and stand up, now an extra foot or so taller than the man. “A confession – my confession to you – is not something so fleeting; it’s not some passing emotion I’ve suddenly started feeling because I spoke to Guuji Yae. This is something I know I’ve felt since the first days I began working for you, something I’ve tried to ignore for both our sakes, and for the longest time, it worked. I managed to be good at keeping our relationship professional.

“And you’re right— we have worked together long enough that I could feel safe in telling you my truth. All I could hope for was maybe some understanding, and in a long shot, maybe a bit of reciprocation. Either way, I’d at least have something off of my chest.” You glare down at the man, fingers twitching— “A-And just so you know, I’m going to be kissing you again after that, because speaking frankly, sir, you… are an awful kisser!” – before reaching for his shirt with them and tugging him up and toward you.

He jolts, thrown off by the height difference the staircase offered and by your sudden bravado, gripping at either railing of the shrine’s staircase. Your lips, as warm as the heat that seemed to radiate from you, as soft as he’d experienced them to be the first time he’d touched them, press against his. You can only dare in closing your eyes that he wouldn’t retaliate, but you still half-expect him to push you away and scold you, something said in his flavour of retaliation and ridicule. But his hands give rise to where your hands stretch out the material of his shirt, skinny fingers wrapping tightly around the bones of your wrists to spin you off the higher step and onto equal ground.

Pulling away from you, a smirk crawls onto his visage. “And who gave you permission to speak frankly in the first place?” he asks. You can’t tell if his tone is serious and taunting or humoured and teasing. You swallow when he leans further into you, your heart racing, his lips pausing just before your ear. “Insulting your superior officer,” he whispers to you, a dry chuckle escaping him a second later when he returns to face you. “That’ll get you places.”

Taunting and teasing, you decide shakily.

To your surprise, the Balladeer leans into you once more, his glistening, parted lips slotting between yours, hands slowly moving to take hold of your cheeks in his attempt at keeping you close. It’s sloppy, teeth clacking together at times, and a little wet, but your heart threatens to burst with joy and relief at his effort, his reciprocation being something you wouldn’t have expected him to put any into.

A hand of your own raises to take the smooth curve of his jawline into your palm. He mumbles against your murmurs, and grunts at the wet, wriggling sensation invading his mouth. Their tongue? he realizes, doing poorly to mask his shock at how pleasant he finds the feeling to be. Unpredictable as per his usual routine, he returns the gesture, his own joining with yours to swirl and dance in the space between you. The softest of moans escapes him, and he tears away from you, embarrassed and breathing sharply, his pale cheeks tinted with the softest of rouge and lips tainted by your mixture of saliva.

Your laughter is faint as you lick away the liquid gathered along your own.

“So…” Scaramouche glances at you from beneath his newly summoned hat, barely having time to recover when you’ve shot him a look unfamiliar to him—it’s startling, how warm it makes him feel; how unfocused his mind is when your gazes lock; how impossible he finds it to begin stringing words into a sentence after what he’d engaged in – dazed, your eyelids flutter on incident at him, and in that starstruck, awestruck daze, “Did any of that get me anywhere with you?”

— until these words exit your mouth, that is. Your flippant attitude was not something he’d accounted for in the aftermath, and even worse, you’d caught him in a moment of vulnerability and weakness and decided to deliver them before he could collect himself.

“Something like that,” he says, tone breathy with exasperation, his eyes having rapidly widened at you. You chuckle nervously in response, daring to reach forward and adjust his slightly tilted kasa. He turns on the spot when you’re finished, clearing his throat, and beginning the rest of your descent down from the base of Mount Yougou. “Come along, then. We’ve got work to do.”

© nc-vb/niicevibe 2022-2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

[cannibalovers]

Do i post too much depeche mode related stuff? Maybe but i think they fit the show so well, especially hannibal

Hannibal song of the day: song no. 10

A bit about the song:

"It’s No Good" (released in 1997) is a song by Depeche Mode and was written by Martin Gore. The song fits genres like synth pop, alternative rock and electro-pop, involving a smooth, dark sound with minimal sound-effect clutter and lots of reverb. It has a deep, recognisable melody and bass accompanied by various ambience sounds or synth sounds. The meaning of the song is quite vain and dark, presenting the protagonist who can’t accept their crush not liking them - They’re convinced that they are made for each other, divinely intertwined. They were most likely rejected and hit the first stage, the stage of denial.

i love this song along with the whole ultra album sm, i was so shocked to find out not many ppl like it????????? like what

but okay anyhow, another song that reminds me of how Hannibal views Will omgggg no waaayyyyyy

I will forever stand by the fact that Hannibal is a hopeless romantic (but i think all of us know that like... the whole human tree boquet, all the flowers being carefully picked? Hanni killing the judge for Will? giving himself up to the police so will always knows where he is? um? do i need to say more) - that why I even have this song in my playlist, as the protagonist seems like a hopeless and very persistent romantic themselves (and any depeche mode song tbh)

------------------------------

Verse 1 "I'm gonna take my time I have all the time in the world To make you mine It is written in the stars above The God's decree You'll be right here by my side Right next to me You can run but you cannot hide"

The protagonist feels like the person they're crushing on has to and will love them back - They feel like they have all the time in the world, they aren't planning on stopping liking them or trying to charm them, and are willing to be patient and wait for the day that their interest does like them back. Quite tenacious. The protagonist seems to be quite spiritual and a hopeless romantic, believing the two are meant to be together as it's written by the universe in the stars and pre-planned by God himself. The last line can be quite dark and desperate, considering that the protagonist says this is unavoidable and their crush should accept it. Overall the protagonist seems to be quite obsessed (totally not another reason as to why i chose the song...).

This feels like Hannibal so so much - no matter how many times Will seemed disinterested (Will stop fucking lying) or even tried to literally kill him, this bitch ain't giving up. He's really taking his time, never giving up on the idea of Will and him becoming closer, he doesn't want to give up. Will is the only person that seems to understand him, a person Hannibal sees himself in and he can also understand Will; He doesn't want that to go to waste. He made his goal to make Will his and he will achieve it; If he wants something, he will find a way to get it. It's pretty easy for him to do so, considering his vast knowledge of human psychology. He can understand people without them even saying a word about their emotions and he can influence others easily, it's an quite advantage to him(Will doesn't find him interesting? ok bet, he'll make him VERRRRYY interested:3).

And also to my surprise, Hannibal seems to be quite spiritual, even comparing himself to God or "playing God": "Killing must feel good to god too, he does it all the time. And are we not created in his image?". He enjoys the power and control it brings him, retaking what God took awy from him. He decides who lives and who dies at his hands. He is in control of his life and any person that appears in his life, it's like he writes the course of his and others lives - That's what happened with Will; Hannibal, the "God" that he is, has decided that they are soulmates and are meant to be in each other's lives forever - be it a delusion or correct, they are always coming back to each other, mainly due to Hannibal's actions. As I said, he will find a way.

------------------------------

Chorus

"Don't say you want me Don't say you need me Don't say you love me It's understood"

The protagonist is assuming that their interest likes them - possibly telling them not to say it out loud in fear that it's not true. They prefer to assume and think that their crush likes them back as that's what feels real and secure to the protagonist, clearly not taking rejection well as they're trying to avoid the situation of a rejection completely. also, perhaps it's more romantic this way. Maybe they are sure of the fact that their interest likes them back, but the protagonist doesn't want it confirmed because they feel like they fully understand their interest telepathically, which they find more romantic. Could also tie to another Depeche Mode song, "Enjoy the Silence" - one of the interpretations for this song from a romantic perspective being that the protagonist wants to indulge in silent moments with his lover, not wanting to worry about words and just enjoy their lover's presence - for this song, the protagonist might also find words harmful and prefer silences.

For Hannibal, I feel like it's more the second one. One thing about hannigram, they can read and understand each other without speaking about it, well most of the time. Direct words don't seem to really do it for them, it doesn't feel as intimate as whatever gay shit they got goin on apparently. like really these bitches suck at communicating, they really don't wanna hear it or say it cuz rejection or they will get a boner and explode and cry and be vulnerable, the worst thing on this planet (i hear that "do u wanna be my big sweaty guardian alpha boyfriend WHAAAAAT WHO SAID THATWHOSAIDTHAT" sound as i type this)

"Don't say you're happy Out there without me I know you can't be 'Cause it's no good"

The protagonist really won't take the rejection and even though they assumes or wants to believe that their interest likes him back, since it isn't confirmed, they're afraid that it isn't true and are in denial, still trying to remind themselves that the two are made for each other and that their interest can't be happy without them, simply because it's no good(mainly for the protagonist).

cough cough Hannibal when will breaks up with him and gives himself up to the FBI cough cough

But no fr, this lyrics represents Hannibal's reaction so well. He can't accept that Will believes he can be happy without him, because he knows he won't be. He saw how he can be, he saw the adrenaline rushing through Will's veins turn into satisfaction, a genuine, though involuntary reaction - Hell, Will even confirmed it. He knows that Will felt understood by him and that's Hannibal's driving force, unlike the protagonist, for whom this is most likely just about his delusions and hopefulness(unless the protagonist interests is a sweaty anxious dog lover empath idk that he connects with at a spiritual level idk). Through the show it just becomes clearer and clearer that Will cannot be his genuine self with anyone else other than Hannibal. Will knows that, tries to ignore it, Hannibal knows it and isn't giving up, Bedelia knows it and is fed up with their shit. EVERYONE knows it (and everyone knows how destructive it is).

The two together are absolute menaces to society, but Will being away from Hannibal also makes everything worse. The longer Will doesn't accept that Hannibal understands him and accepts him, and he feels the same way about Hannibal, the longer he runs away, the worse it gets. He isn't happy, although he pretends to be. He built a carefully crafted, perfect family where he's a good father, caring for a widowed mother, living in the woods peacefully with their lovely hoard of dogs and are incredibly happy. But is Will happy? He thought he would be. He knew it isn't socially acceptable nor good to embrace that dark side, he has seen the effects of people who accept it. It isn't good, he shouldn't do it, he shouldn't succumb to his dark nature. Perhaps getting a stereotypically ideal family will help him feel normal and ignore it. Yeah, that will make him feel good and satisfy his need to care and nurture and feel like a white knight saving the day. It will definitely make him happy. Fake it till you make it. But is it really worth it when you have to put on a mask in front of your wife, someone you choose to marry and devote your life to, who fully trusts you and expects the same from you? How mocking it feels, when she's this open and sincere whilst you're lying to her every second about who you are. In the end she doesn't care for you, she cares for the person suit you carefully tailored out for her. But this is who you're supposed to be right? You designed this, it's genuine, no? It's just a heavily mediated version of who you are. Well, clearly not, since you see the ex that ruined ur life (tried to make u accept who u are) and immediately fold and leave ur wife lol

(man i need to be careful about my tenses and perspectives what is that, but not rewriting cuz idk how else to write it)

In the end, it's not good for Will, it's not good for Hannibal, no good for the rest of the people who gotta play fucking matchmakers and third wheel them as they flirt, this repression does nobody any good.

------------------------------

Verse 2

I'll be fine I'll be waiting patiently Till you see the signs And come running to my open arms When will you realise? Do we have to wait till our worlds collide? Open up your eyes You can't turn back the tide

The protagonist is waiting, although getting impatient. They keep having hope that finally their interest will like them back, see that they are made for each other. They aren't giving up and seem to be so obsessed that they will continue to choose their interest over anyone else and be patient with them. They're hoping that their crush just needs some enlightenment and will suddenly love the narrator back after "opening their eyes". The worlds colliding are support to represent their minds and the tide, the inevitable and strong feelings the protagonist feels - it's like the protagonist already felt the tide, the emotions, powerful and sudden, hitting him, and is now waiting for their interest to be hit by the same tide.

Well, Hannibal does wait patiently. In the comfort of the psych ward Alana takes care off for him, having all the privileges, all the comforts he needs. He has enough patience to last the 3 years without breaking any rules. But ultimately, after Will said goodbye, he has left Will the option to come back and "run into his open arms". Hannibal giving himself up to the FBI was to make sure that Will can come back to him, if he changes his mind. He kept his arms open, expecting Will to come back. He knew he just has to let Will decide if he wants to do so for himself.

Will knew it was dangerous, he wanted to keep away from his as far as possible, be blind. He was well aware that Hannibal would be like a tide, powerful and merciless, he would swallow him whole once he gave in, which is why it took him so long. Like literally Jack had to come and fucking intervene and force Will back into the goddamn field like. fgfjoigfdigjjew

The only way that they would ever be back together was if their worlds, their minds, collided, and they did. Before, Will's and Hannibal's worlds were about to collide before Will hesitated and Hannibal didn't appreciate it. Jack and everyone encouraging Will, pushing him into the trap, made Will's and Hannibal's worlds collide. There was no coming back to who Will wanted to be after reconnecting with Hannibal - their worlds have merged and the damage done is way too severe now as his eyes opened, and he finally accepted his demise, letting the tide swallow him whole (just like that tide when they fell off the cliff💯).

in conclusion hannibal is pathetic and whipped, the dick is just too good

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additional notes:

i missed this

if this is hard to read due to me trying to sound formal and professional but succumbing to humour WAY too much and not balancing it well enough then pardon me

------------------------------

my playlist post

thank u, hope u enjoyed<3

[piastrinorris]

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

masterlist | prev. | next

Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 9.2k

A/N: Thanks for being patient! I know this one took longer than the other two, but yeah. Back pain is no joke, and also, as you can see, this became somewhat of a monolith lol. This whole fic is my most favourite thing to write. I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

Also, apologies for the horrific photoshop job I did trying to recreate a certain social media layout, lol.

The first few weeks of living with Ralph are certainly… An experience. You’re able to teach him how to cook basic freezer meals, how to use a hob and the importance of never taking your attention away from food when you’re preparing it. He’s got his favourite TV shows, especially now that you’ve trusted him with access to your streaming services, too - though you did have to make him a separate profile on your account when your current obsession had been drowned out in your Continue Watching queue by Ralph watching half an hour of whatever was showing up first, giving up and moving onto the next thing. He’s got a rapport as “that eccentric young man who lives in flat 912”, who befriends all the local outdoor cats and bows to everyone he makes eye contact with. Plus, with all the extra attention Ralph gives them while you’re not there, your plants have been thriving more than ever.

Another morning of waking up on the sofa. You reach blindly for the pain relief and water bottle you now keep close to you and chug them down before peeling yourself away. At least today is a day off. Except it isn’t really, as you’re reminded when you hear the shower going. You’re still a full-time Ralph-sitter. You decide to treat the pair of you to a full breakfast, something that your new housemate had considered “grotesque” as “grease is not a food group”, but you’d acclimated him to it eventually. As long as you cut him some bread soldiers to dip into the yolks of his eggs. That’s his favourite part.

You scroll through Spotify on your phone to see what playlist you’ll ask your Echo to play for you. It recommends, based on your recent listening (by which it obviously means the battle your algorithm faces trying to find common ground between your music taste and Ralph’s), an electro-swing playlist. Excited, you ask Alexa to play the playlist as it’s titled, and start bouncing along to it as you get everything out to start cooking.

Ralph emerges, hair still wet, with a smile on his face. “Good morning!” You understand and appreciate his efforts to try and blend in a little more aesthetically, but arguably the worst thing your friends have convinced Ralph is that he looks better with a bit of facial hair. Which, of course, is true, but that’s what makes it so terrible for you. “What is this?!”

You shrug, “Dunno, it said electro-swing and I figured that sounds like the perfect mix of both of us. You like it?”

Ralph nods, “I mean, it’s certainly not the classics, but I could definitely get used to this!” He starts moving his feet in very deliberate ways, and you smirk at him.

“Did you ever learn how to swing dance, by any chance?”

“Guilty!” he lilts, rolling his eyes up. No matter how much he may try to look like a 21st century man, he’s still unmistakably Ralph. “Yes, Mother got Victoria and I enrolled in a school to get us out of the house. Father wanted me to join some new-fangled group, the Scouts?” You’d think you’d be used to all the culture shocks by now, but hearing that Ralph could have been one of the first ever Scouts still knocks the wind out of you a little. Ralph, completely unaware, continues rambling, “Yes, but it was all… Swimming and climbing and… Outdoor survival,” he shudders. “So, Mother sent me away with Victoria to her dance classes.”

“Were you any good? Or did you enjoy it, at least?” you ask.

Ralph smiles as his head bobs with excitement, “I was rather exemplary, yes! Ms Lillian often paired Victoria and I together, knowing we could practise at home as well, though when we got to a… Certain age, Victoria decided she would rather have other male partners.” You can tell from the sadness in Ralph’s tone what he’s about to say next. “And, well, she was on such good terms with the other girls in the group that… Well, none of them wanted to be paired with little brother Ralph, so the teacher was my partner. ‘Little brother’, I ask you, only by twelve minutes!” he starts to mutter under his breath.

An urge swells within you to find Homeless Pete, insist he find a way to fix that time machine up as soon as possible, and travel back to that time just to shove every one of those rich little brats. Instead, you focus that energy on comforting Ralph, reaching your arms around his shoulders in a quick hug. “I’m sorry, mate. Though, I don’t suppose you remember those moves you learned?”

His eyes light up. “I certainly do! Did you want to learn how to? The teacher did say I was quite the natural, I could teach you if you wanted!”

You grin, “I’d love nothing more.”

You spend the best part of an hour learning how to do things like the Charleston Step, the bow tie and the one that Ralph calls one turns, two turns, which you can tell is his favourite based on the smile he gets when it’s his turn to get twirled around.

Eventually, you heave with exhaustion. “Well, that’s worked up the old appetite, though I dunno how I’m gonna cook when I can barely feel my legs!”

Ralph giggles, “Oh, please, that was nothing! Ms Lillian would have you in tatters.” You give him a death stare and he stops laughing immediately. “Would you like me to get us something from the baker’s? I could get you some of those doughed nuts that you enjoy.”

“For the last time, Ralph, doughnuts don’t actually contain nuts and you can have some yourself, too!” you groan as you start replacing everything you’d taken out of the fridge.

Ralph tuts, shaking his head. “I have no interest in your nuts, thank you.” That’s one to send to Scott and Connor later, you think to yourself as you open up your phone and add to the note “Ralph Quotes”. “Perhaps the nice old lady who calls me chap will be there,” he muses with a small smile, “I like her.”

“Hop to it, then, old sport,” you say in a mock-posh voice, earning you a glare from Ralph, which only makes you laugh as you make your own way to the shower.

When you’re out and dressed for the day - in the clothes Ralph had worn on his first night with you, but only because they’re your go-to comfort clothes anyway and you don’t exactly plan on leaving the flat - you go through your usual routine of checking the news app for the headlines, and then the trending topics on Twitter, just to see if there’s anything your friends will be talking about. 

You giggle at the fact that the name Ralph is trending, screenshotting it to send to the group chat later. Out of curiosity as to which Ralph the internet is obsessing over today, you tap it and scroll through. It’s mostly people in fandoms, making threads called ‘[series] as ralph tweets’. The “ralph tweets” in question seem to be of someone tweeting as though they think Twitter works in the same way as Google.

Your stomach drops as you realise some of them look a little too familiar. Almost as though you know a Ralph who’d be this far out of touch with the modern world. Almost as though you could track the very conversations that would lead to some of these to that particular Ralph.

You click through to the profile @RalphOnTwitter and scroll all the way down to see exactly when he must have gotten an account:

You send a single message in the group chat: GROUP MEETING, MY FLAT, ASAP. ALL MUST ATTEND.

Your friends all arrive relatively quickly after that. You simply herd them all onto the sofa one by one until the last of them has arrived, but just as you’re about to lay into them, the man of the hour arrives, having fumbled with the lock for a good minute with his arms full of baked goods.

“Ah, good morning, all! It’s a good job you’re all here, it was that young woman serving today and she always gives me extra food even though I don’t ask for it or pay for it, I don’t know why -”

“It’s ‘cause she fancies you, mate,” Connor grins, causing Ralph’s ears to turn a vibrant shade of red.

“Can we please discuss Ralph’s love life another time?!” you interrupt. “I need to know which of you is responsible for giving him access to a Twitter account.”

You know Anna’s in the clear, you’d been helping her in the kitchen, but the other three look at each other shiftily. “Well, it was sort of all of us? We just thought it might be fun to teach him,” Grace explains. “It’s not often you meet someone who’s never heard of social media.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. “Ralph,” you call out, eyes still closed, “what do you do when you need to know the answer to something?”

“I do what you taught me when you first gave me my phone,” Ralph answers, perplexed. “I tap the very last square, I type in my question and I wait for an answer. A lot of them are just people being rude, but eventually someone will be helpful.”

“Sounds about right,” you groan, rubbing your face.

“Wait, you mean, you still do that even after we put - you didn’t think to just move one to the -” Scott’s eyes widen. “Oh, god.”

“Why would it move?!” Ralph asks, taking a bite out of his favourite pastry and chewing anxiously.

Anna starts giggling as she scrolls through his account, “Aww, but it’s so funny! And it’s not hurting anyone, what’s the damage in it?”

The fact he’s not supposed to be alive and yet he’s suddenly very much perceived, maybe? The fact he could accidentally tweet something that would give him away? The fact he could tweet something vastly inappropriate at any moment?

“Yeah, you could really capitalise on him while he’s here,” Connor smirks. “Get him on Instagram, too, get those brand deals coming.”

“Yeah! Ralph On Twitter’s face reveal, make it a whole thing,” Grace grins.

You sigh. “I dunno. It feels like a really bad idea.” You look at Ralph, who looks blankly back at you. “But… Maybe we could make something of you. As long as I’m your PR manager, obviously, and you don’t go talking directly to anyone.”

“I don’t think I know how,” Ralph shakes his head, “I thought it was the searching thing that you’d told me about.”

“Good. Never learn,” you point at him, “and give me your phone.” Your friends all cheer as they crowd around you, watching you download Instagram onto his phone, as well. You give him the handle @ralphoninsta “to keep the brand alive,” you explain as you set up his profile.

“Now we need a good first photo,” Scott holds his fingers and thumbs up in a rectangle shape to frame Ralph in his own field of vision. “Let’s get him into some good lighting.”

Sitting him in the best-lit corner of the flat, Scott insists on playing photographer, telling Ralph to sit and smile. However, Ralph does not seem to do well in front of the camera. He sits bolt upright, every part of him looking stiff and uncomfortable, and his smile isn’t right. It’s far too forced, it shows all his teeth and yet somehow the smile itself stretches beyond them. “Maybe we should take him out and about, get some candid shots of him,” Anna suggests.

You groan, having just started on your second doughnut. “Fine! I’ll leave the house today, but I won’t be pleased about it!” You shake your half-eaten breakfast at your friends, who laugh. “And you guys better come eat these, too, Ralph wasn’t kidding about these freebies.” You hold out another doughnut and wave it in Ralph’s direction, “Sure I can’t tempt you with one?”

He leaps onto his feet and backs away from you, “How many times must I ask you to keep your doughed nuts out of my face, please!” As expected, Scott and Connor crease up in laughter.

“You’ll love ‘em when you try ‘em, Ralphie,” you grin, taking another bite of your own, but Ralph isn’t as amused by it all.

Once you’re all adequately full, you begrudgingly throw on a hoodie and go out with everyone else, trying to find the right lighting, the right backdrop. Even with everything, Ralph just doesn’t seem to pose very well. His posture becomes so much more awkward and his facial expressions just aren’t… Ralph.

When he starts to express his apathy for the whole thing, you think of one more thing that might help. Standing him in front of a brick wall, you position Scott and set his phone camera to video, earning you an, “Ahh, good shout.”

Scott starts recording as Ralph stands in place, looking over at all of you. “So, what is it I’m supposed to do, now? Do I have to pose again? How?”

You shrug, “I dunno, just… Be Ralph. Stand however you want. Look however you want. Just, keep it moving around, yeah?”

He may still look a little awkward but you’re able to get him to do plenty, at least. Getting him comfortable is easy enough, you start getting him talking about his new favourite TV programmes and he very vaguely - and mostly not entirely correctly - describes the plots of them, with all the excited sincerity of a lifelong fan. Grace also asks him about his favourite local cats he’s befriended whenever he’s been out and about, which he lists happily and extensively. 

When Scott feels as though he’s got some good angles, he stops recording and you all crowd around him to review the footage together. While you all have different opinions on which angles are best, you can all agree on one thing - Ralph certainly photographs far, far better candidly. You all eventually settle on pausing and screenshotting at two specific moments, though Ralph is still perplexed. “But I’m not posed for either of those pictures, doesn’t that make them bad? I mean, I’m not even looking in that second one!” He points to a shot where he’s looking down, itching his jaw.

“No, trust me, it’s fine, they’re great,” you insist, maybe a little too quickly. Nobody seems to have noticed, though. Thankfully.

“And in this one, the sun is in my eyes! I’m all squinty!” He frowns, swiping to the previous shot.

“That’s called a smoulder, babes, everyone loves a smoulder.” You watch in amusement as Ralph’s ears turn pink at Grace’s words. No matter how many times you’ve told him that Grace calls everyone by that name, it still gets Ralph all nervous to be referred to by it himself. “You’re a natural, when you’re not actually trying.”

“Is that a good thing?” Ralph asks, his eyes darting around the group to gauge everyone’s reactions.

Anna nods, “It shows promise, right, Scott? Scott’s big into his photography shit, he’s got a proper camera and everything, don’t you?”

Scott nods. “If you ever wanted to try and get more comfortable with it, we could definitely shoot together sometime.”

Ralph shuffles over to you to whisper in your ear, “What do guns have to do with -”

You interrupt him to quietly explain, “You shoot photos on a camera.”

“Ah. Thank you.” Addressing Scott, he smiles and claps, bouncing on the balls of his feet, “If I am still around, I should rather enjoy that!”

“Fuck, I forgot we’ve only got you on borrowed time,” Anna complains, before gasping and clapping her hands, addressing you. “This is your weekend off, right?!” You nod, and she squeals, holding her face in her hands. “So, we have to show Ralph what a good night out is, right?!”

Excited reactions from the entire group, except one, obviously, but the others seem too keen on planning tonight now to respond to any of his reactions. “So, do we just take him out, or out-out?” Connor asks.

You look over at Ralph’s face, trying not to laugh too loudly at him looking as though he’s been asked to solve quantum equations in his head. “You trying to figure out the difference there, mate?” you ask, and he nods. “Right, so going out usually means just to the local pub, pretty casual attire, you say you’re only going for a couple of beers but then it’s approaching midnight, the poor sod behind the bar is calling last orders and you’re five deep, trying to gather everyone for the walk home where you drop them all off one by one. Going out-out is dressing up, it’s going into the city itself, it’s going to bars and nightclubs and getting super overpriced cocktails until it’s 3am and you’re sat outside a McDonald’s waiting for a taxi home with whichever stragglers you’ve managed to hold onto by the end of the night.”

“Dressing up, you say?!” Ralph lights up at the idea, but you put a hand on his arm.

“Not in the suit and tie way, I’m afraid.” You frown, “I don’t actually know if we’ve got any out-out clothes for you at home, you know. I haven’t had a chance to get you to any shops where you can try nice clothes on yourself.”

With a collective gasp, Grace and Anna each loop an arm around each of Ralph’s, with Scott joining in their chorus of, “Shopping trip?!”

You groan, “Can I at least go back and get changed if you’re gonna keep making me leave the house?”

“I mean, you don’t have to come with us, if you want a break,” Anna suggests. “You trust us with Ralph, right?”

“So what, just the four of you will be going, then?” Connor asks, to the others’ groans. “Oh, come off it, what use would I be?!”

“Connor,” Anna starts. “How often are we ever likely to ask you for your opinion as a straight man again? You need to come with, for your people.”

Connor sighs in resignation, though he can’t fight his own smile. “Alright, fine, but you lot are buying all the coffees I’m gonna need to get through this.”

You slip Ralph your bank card, mutter to him that the others will teach him how to use it, and salute the others as they all make their way to the high street before turning on your heel and heading back to the sanctuary of an empty flat.

Straight away, it feels too empty. Too quiet. Sure, you’ve trusted Ralph to just pop across the road and back, but you’ve got way more alone time now. You ask your Echo to play your favourite playlist as you make a start on the chores you normally can’t do with Ralph around.

Though you expect that to take up until they return, you’re done before the hour is up. You let out a long exhale, tutting through it as you look around your little living space and wonder what on earth to do with yourself. You start watching the next episode of the show you’d been watching, but even that didn’t feel right without the constant interjections, feeling as though you have to explain who characters are, what plots have already happened and why certain scenes are especially important.

You text the group chat a few times, but only Connor ever responds, and as is on brand for him, it’s always a sarcastic comment about how Ralph is obviously going to show up in the most garish outfits known to man. You take comfort in Connor being the one to make those jokes, at least, as if anyone else were to, you might be more inclined to worry that Ralph’s own tastes might just be a little too eclectic for the South London nightlife. At least Connor will be there to talk him down into dressing somewhat appropriately.

You also ask Scott to send you the photos for Ralph’s Instagram profile, telling him you’re happy to edit them to pass the time before eventually getting them onto Ralph’s phone to upload them. He sends you the screenshots, along with the video itself. One little watch, you tell yourself. Then to editing.

An indeterminable amount of time later, you’re replaying a part where you’re constantly correcting Ralph on the actual plot of Gilmore Girls versus what he seems to have retained that it’s about, where you’ve reached the point of uncontrollable laughter and he’s laughing at your laughter. His smile is so pure when he’s genuinely happy, and yet it’s so rare to see it that way. Even without his manufactured pose, when he’s smiling amongst you and your friends it still feels stilted. You often wonder whether he misses the familiarity of home, whether you’re doing a good enough job at helping Ralph to fit in. But seeing that look on his face, it fills you with an overwhelming sense of relief. It’s the first time you’ve been able to really notice him looking comfortable. You take a screenshot of that moment, but not necessarily to add to Ralph’s profile. Maybe this one stays as a memento of Ralph’s time here, just for you.

When you get the text in the group chat letting you know that a) they’re finished, and b) everyone’s getting ready at Grace’s since her housemates are all out for the evening, you hurriedly edit those two photos Scott sent, empty your wardrobe of all your “out-out” clothes into a duffel bag, throw in whatever toiletries and cosmetics you can find and make your way over there.

Scott, Anna and Ralph are nowhere to be found, at first, but Grace assures you that they’re simply helping him “look the part”. You’re more worried about checking in with Ralph, seeing if he’s overwhelmed at all, and most importantly, making sure he hasn’t blown his cover.

Grace is more than happy to help you pick out your outfit for the night, while Connor’s input remains a constant and totally helpful series of grunts without even looking up from his phone. Grace helps you get your face and hair ready, too, though not without scolding Connor for not participating either way, despite his constant rebuttals that he is taking care of “the most important thing”. You quickly shoot him a text thanking him for helping to take Ralph off your hands for an afternoon, and reassuring him you’ll buy him a drink to show your appreciation. The absolute wordsmith that he is, Connor sends a thumbs-up emoji in response.

There’s a ring at the doorbell, which even Grace is puzzled at. That fills you with a sense of concern, too - if Grace isn’t expecting someone at her door, who could it be? Connor seems pretty confident at going to open it, though, and you see why when he eventually shows up with the pizzas that he clearly ordered. “You didn’t have to be so cryptic about it!” You shake your head at him as you make sure everyone has drinks made up as well.

Scott’s head pokes out of a door to ask, “Everything okay? Who was at the door?” You and Connor both point to the food and Scott grins, “Ah, nice! Right on time! Okay, folks, are you ready to meet The New Ralph?”

The three of you clap and cheer as Scott and Anna make a big show of revealing Ralph, and thankfully you weren’t holding any of the glasses you were making drinks in, or you’d have surely dropped them. Wearing a dark fitted polo, very well-fitting jeans and some crisp new Adidas trainers, Ralph stands between your friends, looking around at the three of you. When he catches your eye, he only makes very fleeting eye contact before looking your own outfit up and down and then hastily looking back at the others. He rubs at the tops of his ears - you can’t quite see from this distance, but you wonder if he’s blushing, and whether he’s doing it over everyone’s reaction, or just yours.

You set everyone’s drinks up around the living room, deliberately seating you and Ralph together. “I wasn’t sure what kind of fancy-schmancy drinks you’re used to, and none of us exactly have champagne on tap, but I thought you might like a martini?” You say to him as he takes his seat on the sofa next to you.

Ralph’s eyes light up. “I do rather enjoy a martini!”

“That’s my guy!” Connor cheers from his corner, raising a slice of pizza in a toast of sorts. Ralph tentatively takes a slice and does the same, but you hurriedly follow it up by grabbing a plate and holding it beneath Ralph’s slice for him.

“Don’t want to ruin your nice outfit before you’ve even been seen out in it, do you?” You fuss, and Ralph nods, taking the plate from you and holding it directly under his chin as he eats, which makes you laugh. He could literally look like anyone in the world, but little mannerisms like that will always tell you that that’s your Ralph.

When he’s had enough to eat, you take the plate from him to take it out to the kitchen, though Grace is quick to whip it out of your hands, too. That’s when you notice the plate seems to have moved something underneath the collar of Ralph’s shirt. You move it aside slightly and, with all the might of keeping any kind of flustering behaviour at bay, you ask, “Is that a neck chain you’re wearing?” Is this what manifesting is?

“Yes! Do you like it?” Ralph scoops it out into view with his finger. “Just a plain one, but Anna said it really brought the whole outfit together, didn’t you?” He asks her excitedly, and she nods back.

“She’s got a good eye, that one,” you grin. “You look so good, Ralph.”

“As do you,” he mutters, gesturing quickly to your outfit. “I see what you mean about dressing to the nines, now. It’s nice to see this side of you, too. All of you, really,” he stammers, looking around.

“Right, last minute hair and make-up touches and then I want photos of all of us!” Grace announces.

Ralph’s face falls as he asks you quietly, “Would you like to teach me how to take them, since I’m not good at being in them?”

“Don’t be silly,” you nudge him. “We’ll get some good ones of you tonight, trust me. And if you wanna see a bad photo, wait until you see the atrocities this lot take by the end of the night.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. We’ll prepare a slideshow of your finest moments for him, shall we?” Scott retorts, to both yours and Ralph’s laughter.

“Maybe we should save that for a special occasion. A birthday, perhaps?” Ralph asks with amusement.

“Yes, Ralph!” Connor and Scott cheer in unison, both slapping his shoulders excitedly as you gasp in mock offence.

“The betrayal!” You can’t actually be mad at Ralph, though, not with how good he looks when he’s this happy. It’s even more captivating in person.

You shake your head as you go to make sure you’re all freshened up after your meal. You can’t keep thinking these things when you’re sober, or else who knows how that’ll manifest when you’re less so.

Your friends all love learning how to get Ralph distracted enough that he doesn’t even realise half the time that his photo is being taken. Scott, being the photography setup genius that he is, even gets his phone out, sets it on a timer, and manages to get Ralph laughing while looking at the camera, in the middle of the group, all while successfully running into the shot himself. Everyone’s in love with that photo, even Ralph, and when Scott sends it in the group chat, you promise him you’ll print one for the flat, and an extra one just for his room. 

“What about the other ones that everyone else took?” Ralph asks. “Could I get those ones on my phone, too?”

“I’ll do that tomorrow. Ooh, speaking of! Before we go! Gimme, gimme,” you make a grabby hand at Ralph, who eventually takes the hint that you want his phone as he hands it to you. You send over the two edited shots - and that’s all - and, on his phone, successfully upload them:

“No caption?” Anna asks, looking over your shoulder.

“Well, it’d look a bit dodge if he’s tweeting to ask his phone to stop changing his words for him, but then he’s a total whiz at Instagram, wouldn’t it?” You explain, to everyone’s agreement.

Finally, you’re all piled into an Uber and on your way to your favourite bar. It’s in the car, cramped between you and the door, that Ralph realises something in a panic. Frantically tapping your arm, he whispers, “Won’t they ask me to prove I’m of age to drink there?”

You shake your head. “Don’t sweat it. The staff know us like the backs of their hands, they’ll trust us that we’re not bringing in some teenager. Besides, you look far less baby-faced now,” you wrestle your arm out enough to ruffle the beard he’s starting to grow with your fingertips. “So we’ll be fine. Promise.”

Ralph, too, wrangles a hand out to hold his little finger towards you. “Promise?”

With a small laugh, you link your own with his. “Yes, but less of that around the people we have to convince that you’re not a kid, okay?” Ralph nods with a very serious expression, and you copy him before settling back into conversation with your friends.

It takes a few bats of the group’s eyelids and some convincing c’mon, mates but the bouncer soon lets Ralph in with you all, to which he enthusiastically thanks them over and over again. You hurriedly rush him in ahead of you before he arouses too much suspicion.

Connor makes a point of letting Ralph know where the toilets are, and Ralph immediately disappears off into that direction. You ask the boys if one of them should make sure he’s okay getting there, but everyone scolds you for fussing over him too much and moves you along with the rest of them to order everyone’s drinks. You want to hold onto Ralph’s for him but, as Scott reminds you, it’s safer for him to, so that you can look after your own. Just in case.

Soon enough, as with every night out, the group starts to scatter. Scott is happily chatting between Connor and a girl you don’t recognise, most likely playing wingman. You can spot Anna and Grace in amidst a small group of people whose heads are turned away from you. Still no sign of Ralph for a while. Ringing his phone does nothing, but the music is quite loud, he might not be able to hear. The bar is small enough, you tell yourself. He’ll find you eventually.

As you’re craning your head around the bar one more time, you don’t realise anyone is in your immediate vicinity until you almost trip over someone behind you. They catch you with a, “Whoa, easy there! How many have you had?!”

“Barely any, that’s the scary thing!” You laugh.

The man smiles at you. “Sounds like I ought to buy you one then, eh?”

You shrug, “Sure, what’s a free drink?” You gesture that you’ll walk up to the bar with him and order your drink. He tries to make small conversation, and you start to get into it a little, until he starts trying to flirt. He’s not exactly your type, anyway, and his total lack of game really doesn’t help matters. You try and get away with a simple thank you, a promise that you’ll find him later to buy him one back but you really must get back to your friends.

“Ah, what’s the rush? Surely it’s easier for them to come and find you if we stay here, right?” He asks. You look around desperately, trying with all your might to use some of that manifesting power you seemed to have earlier to will one of the boys back, both to rescue you and salvage Ralph.

~~~

Ralph was having quite the experience. Having heard the other boys talk of the bathroom, he assumed that was a prompt for everyone to go, but only once he could see the door to it did Ralph turn around and realise he was completely on his own. Suddenly, the atmosphere changes. What seemed dimly lit now appears almost pitch black. There are lights of all colours shining everywhere. Music that doesn’t quite sound like music thumps in the background. Twenty conversations happening around him turn into white noise, until someone approaches him. A total stranger. Two of them, actually.

 “Alright, mate? Do me a favour?” One asks, despite Ralph’s expression clearly being one that should let anyone know that he is in no position to be giving out any favours. They continue anyway, “Look, I have to draw something, and you have to guess what it is, okay?” Ralph, still bewildered, does not respond in the slightest, but before he knows it, the other person has turned around so that their back can be used as a surface. The original asker now splays a napkin of sorts against their friend’s back as they try and draw something.

Ralph tries his absolute hardest, but as no amount of squinting and focusing can help him, he tells them, “Oh bother, I’m terribly sorry, chaps, I’m honestly trying but I’m really coming up trumps, I do apologise.”

They give him looks of confusion and concern. “Are you on something?”

“Why does everybody assume that of me, just because I’m ever so slightly more well spoken than the average resident here?!” Ralph complains with a frown. “Can this not just be how I talk?”

“Oh my days, you’re a right laugh,” the other grins. “Here, come and do a shot with us, you have to!”

“I- Do I?” Ralph asks, and they nod. “Well, I really should get back to my friends -”

“Oh, c’mon, one shot and we’ll help you find them. Deal?” They ask.

“Well… Alright,” Ralph sighs in defeat. If he can’t find you, he can at least find a constant to anchor onto in the meantime.

“Oi, lads!” The two call out as they approach the table they’re leading Ralph to. “Time out on that game for a minute, we’re doing shots with this legend!” They both look at Ralph expectantly, waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Oh! Yes! Hello, everyone. My name is Ralph. Fabulous to meet you all,” he smiles as he looks around the table.

“Isn’t he sick?!” The artist of the pair grins at his friends.

“Quite the picture of health, actually,” Ralph retorts with a side glance.

“Oh, isn’t he a cutie,” a girl coos from the table. The other of the pair starts to clench his jaw.

“Oi, come off it,” another comforts from around the table. “Any bloke that uses the word fabulous isn’t exactly stealing your girlfriend, is he.”

Ralph’s not even sure how to answer to that, but he isn’t given much time to, either, before being whisked away to the bar with this new group. They hand him a tiny glass filled with clear liquid. Ralph wonders if a shot is perhaps some sort of palate cleanser, a mouthful of water between drinks.

The fiery sensation that travels down his throat as he drinks teaches him that it certainly is not. But once the unpleasantness clears, the strange comfort of alcohol starts to fill Ralph with warmth. It’s certainly happening a lot faster than he’s used to, but then these drinks are far stronger than Ralph’s usual tastes.

Briefly forgetting his own arrangement, he returns from the bar with his new acquaintances - and another martini in hand - and sits back at the table with them as they continue playing their game. It’s played on one of their phones. Someone taps through prompts and reads them aloud. Sometimes it’s challenging a player to do something themselves, sometimes it’s challenging them to approach a stranger, as they had done with Ralph. Sometimes it’s asking them completely arbitrary questions to vote upon amongst the group. They all certainly seem to be having a great time playing, anyway.

Once they declare a round over, they ask Ralph if he wants to join in the next one. “Oh, I’m rather… Old-fashioned, I don’t think I’d be a good fit for this, but I’m sure my friends would love it! Shall I go and find them?”

“More the merrier,” one shrugs.

Ralph excitedly jumps up and starts patrolling the bar to find a familiar face amongst the crowd. He’s yet to see any at all, until one makes his heart drop. He sees you, in the arms of another man. Ralph had really been priding himself on repressing his feelings around you. He wasn’t going to repeat what happened with Lauren. He wasn’t going to scare you off too soon. He was going to keep it to himself. He had tried so hard. And yet, this sight is truly unbearable.

Biting at his quivering lower lip, he storms back into the direction of the bathrooms and keeps going, shoving the first door he finds open as he tries not to cry.

His sorrow is quickly replaced with horror as he finds several women all standing in various places around the room. Some just standing and chatting, some calling to friends in the stalls, some checking themselves in the mirror. After the scene finally sets in for Ralph, he lets out an ultimately high-pitched shriek, swivels around and immediately starts scolding himself. “Oh, bother and blast! Please, forgive me, girls, oh, what an absolute cad I am, I’ve truly disgraced myself, just when it couldn’t get any worse!” His voice gets shakier with every word, and he flinches when a hand appears on his shoulder.

“Sorry!” One of the girls apologises hurriedly. “I just wanted to let you know it’s okay. Are you alright?”

“Please do not ask me if I have taken any sort of drug just because I am well-spoken!” Ralph half-cries, and the hand squeezes him comfortingly.

“We won’t, promise. Did you need a wee, or just a wind down?”

“I’m not sure, I just… Ran. I’m terribly sorry,” Ralph sighs.

“It’s fine,” the voice reassures. “Wanna turn around and talk to us? I promise, there’s no better therapy than a night in the girls’ loos. Right?” A chorus of agreement fills the room.

Ralph slowly turns around to see an awful lot of smiling faces. He sniffs harshly and nods, “Good evening.”

“Hi!” The one who had approached him smiles. “I’m Lauren!” 

Of all the names! “L-Lauren?” Ralph practically squeaks out as he feels himself start to well up, and her own face falls in some kind of realisation as she shakes her head. 

“Or Loz! Just call me Loz! All my friends do! Forget the other name entirely. Sound good?”

Ralph nods. “I’m Ralph. A pleasure to meet you, despite it being under my most horrific actions.”

The other girls introduce themselves, as well. “So, Ralph, this, uh… Girl With The Forbidden Name, is she why you’re all upset?”

“Is she?” One pipes up from the very back. “Because you point her out and I’ll sort her out, no holds barred.”

“See, this is what I tell you, you get like two vodka red bulls down you and you’re ready to throw hands at any inconvenience,” her friend groans next to her. Ralph very quickly taps the square with the bird on it and types a message out to ask the internet “why do people throw hands at each other”, quickly followed by “what sort of hands do people throw”. He decides he’ll check people’s answers later, so as not to appear rude.

“Look at him, though!” The more hot-headed one gestures to Ralph as he wipes away the tears that had been threatening to fall. “Look at those eyes! Like melted chocolate, they are. What kinda sadist would possibly make that happen?!”

“Oh, it’s nothing, it’s all futile,” Ralph shakes his head, but his new friend Loz points at him.

“Oi. Nothing’s futile here. This is a safe space. Let it out.”

Ralph starts to explain that he had fallen for a Lauren, dove in headfirst, had his heart broken and vowed not to let it happen again, but that seeing the housemate he cared so deeply for in the arms of another just brought all of that sadness back up again. The girls are all very sympathetic, and very good at knowing exactly what to say to make Ralph feel better. The rather boisterous one keeps trying to speak negatively of you, but Ralph won’t have any of that. You’re your own person, and it’s up to Ralph to get over his own feelings. The girls commend him on his emotional maturity. Apparently not a lot of men have that.

They ask if he wants to talk it through with you, but he shakes his head, telling them that he isn’t certain how long it is before he can go home again, and so he doesn’t want to commit to anything or risk either staying with you with such an emotionally charged elephant in the room at all times, or being turfed out indefinitely.

"That's quite the predicament you've got yourself in, Ralphie, babes," Loz hugs him arm, and he allows himself the comfort of leaning against her.

Suddenly, a stall door swings open violently, and a whole new girl appears, holding her phone up to her face. Before anyone else can ask if she's okay, she gasps loudly, "I bloody knew it!"

Everyone looks at her quizzically, including Ralph, and she continues. "Well, I thought, guy called Ralph who sounds really old-fashioned, I wonder if… And then some of the things he's said kind of sounded like those tweets, have any of you seen that Ralph On Twitter guy?"

A few more gasps of realisation dot about the room. Ralph's ears turn pink as he recognises the word Twitter from the conversation you’d had with the other four this morning. Loz frowns, "Are you sure it's -"

"Is this your insta?" She turns her phone around to show Ralph her screen. It says Instagram on the top, so Ralph takes out his phone and presses the square that also says that, showing it around to see if that's right. Excitedly, all the girls crowd around to make sure they get Ralph's handle right so they can follow him.

One girl - Ralph's already lost track of them, honestly - announces, "So what I'm hearing is, girls' room photoshoot with Ralph from Twitter?!"

Ralph laughs nervously, "Oh goodness, I'm flattered, but those are all taken candidly, would you believe! I am certainly no poser, I have been told this enough times today already."

"Bollocks to that!" The loud one shouts. "We'll teach you how, won't we, girls?"

Before Ralph knows it, he's squatting amongst all his new friends who are trying to teach him how to do the smoulder look he was doing in his photo on purpose when the main door opens to reveal you standing there, looking absolutely bewildered. "Oh my god, Ralph! You're okay! Thank fuck for that!"

As you frantically update the group chat that you’ve found Ralph safe and well, Loz reaches for his hand to squeeze it. The loud girl starts to tense up behind him but Loz waves her down from behind his back. “Yeah, he’s just been having some drunk girl therapy,” she explains calmly.

“God, I could do with some of that right now,” you groan. “Honestly, you trip and fall onto a guy one time and he thinks you’re soulmates, it’s horrendous!”

Ralph’s face lights up all of a sudden. “You’d… You’d fallen on him?” Concern falls back onto his expression. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, physically, I’m fine, but I don’t know how I’m going to mentally recover from listening to one man talk about himself so much,” you groan into your hands as you hold your face. “I forgot why I stopped dating in London.” You notice that one of the girls puts her arm down after having held her phone up at a particular angle. “Oh my god, wait, you guys were taking photos together?” A few of them nod. “Would you like me to take them for you? Rather than one of you trying to fit everyone in at arm’s length.”

“Oh my god, would you?” one of them sighs with relief.

You nod, gesturing to Ralph to hand you his phone again.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the presence of so many other people in the photo with him, but Ralph blends in so much more naturally in the photos you take now, even when you suggest different poses and expressions. One of them - Ralph quickly introduces her as Loz, and no other name - asks around for phone numbers of the girls that, you assume, had all just met and bonded over whatever Ralph was in here for. You take over the role of adding everyone’s numbers into Ralph’s phone, and see that Loz adds him to a group chat that she names “Ralphie’s Angels”. You laugh at the name, and send all the photos you’ve taken into the group chat.

“Right, I can feel myself sobering up now, and we can’t have that,” one of them calls out, making the rest of you laugh. “Shall we all go and face the music?”

You pull a face, “Ugh, that means I have to go back and face… Him.”

“Nah, you stick with us, hun,” the one who seemed hostile with you at first suddenly seems to be fighting your corner now. “He even looks in your direction when I’m around, I’ll make him wish he didn’t.” You give her a comforted smile in response and the whole horde starts making its way out of the bathroom.

Your friends also catch up with you at the bar, grateful to see Ralph’s face again, too. Grace is hanging off some new guy’s arm, Anna is half-present in the whole conversation but also half-texting somebody, and Scott is catching up with Ralph. You spot that Connor isn’t talking to anyone and head over to him, “What are you drinking?” you ask loudly over all the music. “I still owe you, remember!”

Connor shakes his head, “Nah, don’t sweat it. Ralph’s a good’un, it was no bother.” Speak of the devil, Ralph excitedly hands you and Connor drinks that one of his new friends insists on buying for everyone, then grabs his own glass from Scott who’s followed him to clink against yours and Connor’s before hurriedly rejoining his group. You and your friends laugh in unison before Connor downs his martini, gives you a quick hug and heads home for the night. Grace and her new friend are the next to leave - you never did catch his name, and you’re not sure you’ll have a reason to remember it anyway.

You dismiss Anna and Scott, telling them that Ralph will probably be a while yet, and that they don’t have to wait up for him just because you do. At first they insist on staying with you, but eventually tiredness consumes them both and they bid you goodnight.

As though preying from afar - because that’s most likely what he was doing - your admirer from earlier appears as soon as your friends are out of the door. “Well, well, we meet again.”

Your eyes narrow as you groan out a breath. “Yeah, hi -”

“I can’t believe your friends would leave you alone like that,” he shakes his head.

“Oh, they haven’t, I’m still waiting on -” Your knight in 21st century armour, Ralph, walks over to the pair of you. “Ah, there he is! Are we going home now?”

“Would you like to?” Ralph asks, concern in his eyes, and you nod with fervour. “Then yes!”

The other man pulls a face. “Wait, sorry, you’re going home with - who the fuck is this?!” He gestures at Ralph, a nasty expression on his face.

Thankfully, Ralph’s cavalry come to your defence, led by none other than an incredibly loud, “Oi, dickhead! Who the fuck are you?! Fucking look at my friend like that again, see what happens, yeah?” Despite being perhaps half a foot shorter, Ralph’s most fiery friend easily squares up against him.

You tap her shoulder in thanks, take Ralph’s hand and guide him out of the bar. The cool air outside hits your face, but the alcohol in your system acts as a blanket around the rest of you. “You good?” You ask Ralph, and he nods. “Good. I’ll call for an Uber.”

Ralph frowns, “But aren’t those taxis, parked up over there?”

“Well remembered! Yeah, but a drunk girl once told me that those charge extra for all the time they’ve spent sitting there, and I’ve never felt bougie enough to spend the money to find out if it is true, so I like to play it safe.” You book an Uber that says it’s four minutes away and sit on the edge of the path. Ralph joins you. “Sorry we lost you, earlier, by the way. I did keep trying to look for you.”

“Pah! My own fault, really. I got all frazzled, you know,” Ralph’s eyes widen as he gestures wildly, making you laugh. “I still feel a tad so now!”

“It helps to kind of start resting your head for a bit. Here,” you pat your shoulder and Ralph takes the hint, tucking himself inwards to rest his head on your shoulder. Yours head falls onto his instinctively, and you set your phone to the front camera. You see Ralph’s small, contented smile, quickly plaster one of your own on and snap a photo.

Ralph then frowns, “Oh, no! I wasn’t prepared!”

“Exactly. Look,” you say fondly as you show him the photo. Both of you looking happy and comfortable, despite some bumps in the road. A perfectly normal first night out for Ralph.

“Can you put that one on my phone too, please?” he asks sleepily.

Reluctantly, you push his head away from you. “Yes, but c’mon, sleepyhead. We still have to get home.”

Ralph doesn’t make it the whole journey home, his head once again flopping against yours in the back seat of the taxi as he sleeps. You manage to prod him awake once you’re back outside your block of flats, though, and he trudges along behind you into the lift and along the hallway until you’re back in the safety of the flat again. “Gimme a minute to grab some PJs for the night, yeah?” 

“Of course. I think I should use the bathroom properly now,” he nods.

You pull a face, “Yeah, the fact you’ve gone the whole night without it is honestly impressive!” You hear Ralph chuckle under his breath as you go back into your room, blindly head to your pyjama drawer, take out the first top and bottoms that you can feel, regardless of whether or not they match, and head back into the front room, opting to duck beneath the kitchen counter to change.

Ralph re-emerges a few minutes later, his voice drawling wearily as he asks, “Would you like the bed for tonight? I can’t imagine the morning should be pleasant for either of us.”

You walk over to him and put your hand on his shoulder as you chuckle, “It’ll be fine. You probably need it more than I do, that was probably heavier than what you’re used to.”

“I had a shot tonight, you know,” Ralph tells you with intrigue.

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Oh, yeah? And how did that go for you?”

“Absolutely awful,” he replies simply, pulling a face of disgust, and you both laugh.

“Yeah, you’ll definitely need the bed, then,” you nod. “Did you have a good time, though?”

“Oh, most certainly!” he grins. “I’ve made so many new friends! And I really rather think I’ve made a good impression on your friends, as well.”

“You know they’re your friends too, right?” you ask, cocking your head. Ralph tries to wave you off, and you pull a face of disbelief. “Come off it, they love you! I bet you had a great time with them earlier, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely! Um, but… I did… Um… It wasn’t quite the same without your presence there,” he mumbles.

You frown, “Did you say anything about your past?”

“Oh, no, that never came up! Just… Oh, ignore me, I’m dreadfully tired,” Ralph rubs his face wearily.

“Yeah, you’ll be thanking me for the greasy-ass breakfast I’ll be making us in the morning, so get ready for that,” you grin at him before pulling him in for a goodnight hug. He may smell like a fragrance store with all the proximity he’s had to several perfumed people, but there’s still something comforting about being able to bury your face into his shoulder and taking a deep breath in. Ralph’s arms tighten around you as you do so, as he allows himself the luxury of squeezing his eyes shut and just enjoying the moment.

You eventually pull away with a yawn, “Alright, I think we’re both about to fall asleep standing up, so… Night, Ralph.”

“Y-yes. Of course. Goodnight. Pleasant dreams,” Ralph smiles awkwardly at you before walking quickly to the bedroom.

You set yourself up on the sofa and start looking through the day’s photos. Ralph’s little instagram photoshoot doesn’t feel like it was only this morning, and you can’t help but let yourself fall into the trap of looking at the photo of him laughing again. Shaking your head again, as though that’ll do anything at this point, you scroll through to the photo of all six of you in Grace’s house and set it as your lock screen. You keep scrolling through hurriedly to your other favourite photo of the night, and, while it may be a little delusional, you set the photo of the two of you at the end of the night as your home screen. You’re used to being into people who you can’t have, be it from their disinterest or other reasons, so what’s the harm in indulging yourself a little by imagining a world where the two of you could always be like that?

That’s what Ralph tells himself too as he stares at the photo on his own phone screen until the need for sleep finally takes over.

next chapter

[pixelatedraindrops]

Ok, so, this ask is based on the peacekeepers. How would they do with them being sick? I exclude Makoto from this because we know he overworks himself at times and all.

In addition if it were to be with Swank added to this, you can also take in Kuro (my oc) into the scenario if you like.

Sorry I can’t do OCs… But the Peacekeepers hmm let me see if I can make some stuff up (they’re not my favorite so this may be difficult) And yeah I’ve said plenty on Makoto already I get it xD (he’s my antagonist to target :3c)

Okay here’s what I have come up with~

Yomi Hellsmile:

The Absolute WORST patient.

He will complain CONSTANTLY.

With every sneeze or cough, his entire frame hurts and he curses every single time his head starts pounding

And whats with all these DAMN CHILLS?!

His sickbed is full of tissues and spilled cough syrup. And his blanket is a mess too (don’t ask)

If you take care of him, good luck. Most of the gestures will be refused or thrown back at your face.

Until his fever rises to the point he becomes needy and clingy. But even THEN he’ll still back in forth refusing the caretaking or accepting it. (MAKE UP YOUR MIND)

He hates liquid medicine and will only take pills.

Also he’s a little goldilocks with food and tea. If it’s too hot or cold, he will let you know aggressively. (His tongue is very sensitive)

And he may also deny it entirely and try to keep being a little devil making things hell for everyone, so you gotta drag him to the bed (even if he bites you)

Martina Electro

Being ill is but a minor inconvenience to her.

But how she wishes her beloved Director Yomi would come to care for her…

She’s the type that brushes the illness off continuing to work at times if it isn’t too bad.

She cannot disappoint Yomi after all…

Only to get much worse later.

Thankfully, she does know her limits.

She is fairly good at taking care of herself. (As well as of the other peacekeepers if they falter) She’s usually the one caring for them.

Usually wearing a comfortable robe sitting down with some warm tea and medicine so she can still do, some work. But she makes sure paces herself.

If she sneezes or coughs she tries to be as quiet as possible doing so.

She cannot bear to falter…or Director Yomi would be upset with her. (someone help this poor woman ;-;)

Seth Burroughs

A pure sopping wet cat.

If he’s ill, it’s the most pitiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He’s very prone to asthma attacks and at times the rain isn’t good for his health either.

His unhealthy demeanor really doesn’t help. If he catches even a small cold, it will grow to something FAR worse later

He loses his already barely audible voice and has to communicate with a whiteboard.

He also can have food sensitivity, so if you feed him the wrong thing…it will come back up.

Super frail so make sure to handle him like the delicate flower that he is.

He uses his megaphone to try communicating or calling people to help him or if he needs anything. But sadly, it usually breaks out in a coughing fit.

He’s the most prone to illness out of all of the peacekeepers.

Looking at flowers brings him peace so having a vase at his bedside does make him feel a little better.

Guillaume Hall

She is SUPER needy and whiny about it

And she works Dominic like a DOG to try to meet her every need. (Dominic cannot get sick)

She’s a bratty little princess who wants everything to be done right.

She still has her fortune telling gear at her bed and she still practices it despite her poor state.

Or she opens up her laptop and watches something “fun” to cheer herself up. (Horror movies or killing documentaries)

She always wants to eat something sweet. Sometimes sneaking candy under her bed.

She sleeps with multiple plushies.

Her voice gets super deep if she loses it due to illness.

Sometimes if she has a fever or feels chils, she gets a bit delirious and wants Dominic to come give her snuggles.

Until she falls asleep in his large weapon like arms with a smile on her face.

Swank Castonell

He’s similar to Yomi in being SUPER grumpy about being sick.

Only difference is, he is VERY demanding of whoever tends to him.

Ordering them around and forcing them to use “their” money to get anything rather than his own.

His appetite somehow gets higher when ill, and he craves a LOT more meat and booze than usual

But booze isn’t a good thing to drink when ill, so it has to be kept away from him

But then he yells about it. Until he eventually passes out.

His cigar also has to be confiscated. His cough is bad enough already.

He needs to be watched at all times to make sure his usual habits don’t make things worse for him.

Eventually he’ll conk out. But he needs to be in front of a large screen tv playing the most boring documentary you’ve ever seen.

I hope this is something !!

[rosavulpes]

It had been quite some time since he'd first disembarked from Captain Beidou's ship , and set foot on Inazuma's shores .

When he had initially left Liyue for Inazuma he'd done so with the sole intention of only going for the sake of better understanding what products he could obtain through Inazuma that could help benefit his patients in Liyue before he'd commit to placing large delivery orders through the Adventurer's commission for stock going forwards .

He'd only expected to remain in the island nation for about a month or so at the very most .

He'd gone intending to only be a tourist , nothing more than that ... and yet fate had something else in store for him . It had seen Shuichi actively take part in a war , and conflict that he initially had little regard for . Forced to , none other by the island's reigning deity . The Raiden Shogun , the Electro Archon herself .

Even face her in battle .

With a smile as he thought back to how her voice , when he'd first been brought before her had been laced with a combination of stern authority , and electrifying power was now reading daintily a storybook to a group of children ? He had to stifle a chuckle .

Smiling instead he as closed his eyes to listen to her speak .

The day was bright , cloudy but still sunny . The horizon , ever visible from the nations capital looking clear . The smell of the sea always so close by , and as Ei finished reading her storybook ? Shuichi would be the first to begin clapping in appreciation , the children all following soon afterwards with the rest of the adults .

He wondered if she'd be upset that he'd tricked her into coming here to read to the children ? Or rather , tricking the Shogun into fetching Ei for him as he knew that it would be best for Ei to read to them , as the Shogun would more than likely not understand the emotional reasoning for him wanting Ei to be the one to do it .

He'd arranged for this to happen through the local schools , who'd been struggling as of late to accommodate the children that they'd been entrusted to take in .

These last few years , had been about steadily rebuilding Inazuma .

The Shogun of course , had been excellently assisting Ei in carrying out that thus far . Politics , economics , international relations . From observing how the Shogun operated , he could tell that it had no difficulties with such tasks . However ... when it came to helping rebuild the nation's wounded heart , it's spirit ? That was something only Ei could do .

While there were certain topics he'd been gradually , and appropriately conversing with her as well such as convincing her to repeal the Sakoku Decree . Despite the strides they'd made thus far, he hoped that such progress would continue

As the children all rose to follow their teacher , he'd motion for them to follow one of the soldiers stationed by to join them for lunch inside of the Tenshukaku .

He'd have to remember to send a few servings of fried tofu to Ms. Miko as his way of showing thanks in regards to hinting at what he needed to say to convince the Shogun . Hopefully those serving would keep her in a good mood when he'd propose his idea of taking the children up to see the sacred sakura tree as a field trip .

" You truly do have such a lovely voice . I'm grateful you took the time out of your busy schedule today for this , Lady Ei . I'm certain that the children appreciated being able to hear it just as much as I did "

He was teasing a bit there no different than what he'd seen Ms. Miko do , but as he opened his eyes to greet hers he would offer a genuine smile , and bow of his head in thanks .

" ... Even if they seem small . Acts such as this help reaffirm the people's commitment to you . Especially , when the children , those that come after us , are able to see the real you . Not just hear of you as the Deity of Inazuma . Speaking of which ... would you happen to have some free time later on tonight . I'd like to talk to you about something in private "

@grislyintentions

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

"Because I needed to drive into the ocean."

MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST - "Sure." He quickly comes to terms with this. "But you said the water lock is fixed now, so we can go back..."

GARY, THE CRYPTOFASCIST - "DID HE SAY WE CAN GO BACK NOW?"

MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST - "YES, GARY! WE CAN GO BACK SOON!" He turns to you. "If you see Lena, tell her I won't be long."

EMPATHY [Formidable: Success] - This is a man possessed, always on the brink of some breakthrough. He won't leave if there's a sliver of hope *the Great Find* might happen today.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Sir, your wife is waiting for you."

MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST - "I just have to do one more round, see if the phasmid has taken the bait... Then we're going." He refastens a bit of netting that has come loose in the wind.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - For all his passion, this man is diligent and patient. You could learn things from him.

"Tell me about this *phasmid* you're looking for."

"Tell me more about these traps."

"Lena seems pretty eager for you to return."

"How did you become a *cryptozoologist*?"

"I'll get going." [Leave.]

MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST - "Hmm! Well, first of all it's damn difficult to find -- which is why we've been knee-deep in the reeds laying traps for it."

"What makes it so difficult to find?"

"How big is this phasmid?"

"Why are you so interested in this stick bug? It doesn't seem to be as colourful as some of the other cryptids I've heard about."

"What have you discovered about it so far?" (Continue.)

MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST - "Good question. Being a phasmid, of the order *phantasmodea* -- a ghost insect -- it disguises itself as plant-matter. In this case the reeds..." He looks around. "Awful lot of reeds around, aren't there?"

"*And*, I suspect it may also have developed other *specialized techniques* to protect itself from predators... or scientists, in our present case."

2. "What sorts of *specialized techniques* is the phasmid using to hide itself?"

MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST - "It's my hypothesis that it has evolved certain electro-chemical defences that allow it to interfere with animal perception -- impeding pattern recognition, confusing the visual cortex."

"But I cannot describe how these defences work -- much less how they evolved -- without studying a live specimen."

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - Yes, it makes perfect sense. You're beginning to suspect there's something *para-natural* about this phasmid.

3. "How big is this phasmid?"

MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST - "I'm expecting it to be quite giant. One known species of phasmid, called the *megaphasmodea zhouensis*, is about the size of a grown man's forearm. So..." He leaves the conclusion up to you.

4. "Why are you so interested in this stick bug? It doesn't seem to be as colourful as some of the other cryptids I've heard about."

MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST - "Typical rookie assumption." He flashes you a sideways smile. "Insects are much more sophisticated creatures than those unversed in zoology give them credit for."

"Even simply catching a glimpse of the Insulindian phasmid would be the apex of my -- of *any* -- cryptozoologist's career. But to study it and its defences, find out how it's stayed hidden so long..." He shakes his head.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] - ...would be *glory* itself.

5. "What have you discovered about it so far?" (Continue.)

MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST - "Very little, I'm sorry to say. No one's ever captured a specimen, so all our information is based on first- and third-hand accounts."

"So no one's ever found one?"

MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST - "Not *yet*" He holds up an index finger. "That's what makes it a *cryptid*.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Khm..." The lieutenant interjects. "Just out of curiosity -- if there's no proof of its existence, how do you know it's real?"

MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST - "I *know* it's real," the cryptozoologist says, brusquely enough that even he seems taken aback by it...

"By which I mean," he says, gathering himself, "I've heard enough first-hand accounts to believe quite firmly that the Insulindian phasmid is more than mere superstition."

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] - What would it be like to grasp and hold onto something you think is next to you -- or just behind you -- like a trace of vapour you exhaled one spring morning as a child? This is what he's searching for. A spectre.

"Lena said there has been a sighting of it, here in Martinaise."

"Maybe the Insulindian phasmid has... died out?" (Proceed.)

MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST - "Yes, the most *recent* sighting was by a couple of teenagers along the coast here. That's what brought us to Martinaise specifically."

"It's the first credible sighting in several decades. Admittedly, it's an unusual location for this species, but with all the sewage run-off upstream, it probably doesn't matter much anymore."

2. "Maybe the Insulindian phasmid has... died out?" (Proceed.)

MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST - "I have to resist the thought." He shakes his head vigorously. "Such an extraordinary creature is doubtlessly *highly resilient*. After all, it's generally thought to be capable of parthenogenesis."

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Failure] - Uhm...

"Par...the...no...genesis?"

"Got it. Parthonosis."

MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST - "Parthe-no-genesis. Meaning the females don't need males to reproduce. Makes it easier for a species to survive in adverse conditions."

[wild-joker-out-pleasures]

💫 Joker Out as Genshin Impact Elements: A Very Important Thread 💫

(A new thread from your resident Genshin Impact enjoyer)

Bojan Cvjetićanin - Pyro 🔥

Weapon: Bow (Eros vibes!)

Passionate, warm and lively

Of course a Pyro user is HOT, as well as great in bed.

A lover and a fighter, the flickering flame and the light in the darkness who brings comfort and yet also gives his all for those he loves.

Kris Guštin - Hydro 💧

Weapon: Catalyst (A very stunning one, fit for the group’s beauty)

Fair-minded, organized and regal

Both the gentle, nourishing mountain spring and the deluge.

Cautious and follows rules, yet also brave and will always choose to do the right thing, no matter what.

Jan Peteh - Electro ⚡️

Weapon: Sword (Fight me, he wears a sword necklace!)

A loner, independent and intense

A force of nature, unapologetically and unabashedly himself, like a thunderstorm.

As distant, dark and mysterious as the Electro-influenced lands in Teyvat, but with a heart tucked deep within, that shines like the lightning’s glow.

Jure Maček - Anemo 🪽

Weapon: Polearm (fastest weapon in the game, anyone?)

Free-spirited, playful and unpredictable

Do not underestimate him, as he is both the gentle breeze and the wild tempest.

Few things can hold him down or dampen his optimism and spirits. He always manages to bounce back and rise.

Nace Jordan - Geo ☄️

Weapon: Claymore (Strongest man in Teyvat!)

Trustworthy, patient, enduring

Strength personified in every sense of the word - strong in body, heart and mind.

The person you can 100% rely on and trust; he does not go back on his promises. Do not, however, test him unless you want to suffer the wrath of the rock.

Martin Jurkovič - Dendro 🌿

Weapon: Catalyst (Isn’t it obvious?)

Wise, knowledgeable and compassionate

Calm, curious and knows everything, but also knows when it’s time for action.

Levelheaded voice of reason who gives the best advice, and looks out for everyone. Like the forest, he nurtures and protects in his own gentle way.

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 10, Number 4

Alena Spanger

For one day in April, we were transfixed by the sun’s brief disappearance, marveling again at our smallness in the universe, our dependence on a fiery ball in the sky which might, it seems, not be as reliable as we had always assumed.  It was pretty cool, even if you weren’t in the path of totality (what an excellent phrase, by the way), and it distracted everyone for a couple of hours from all the bullshit flooding over the transom.  Which is also one of the main functions of the music we consume so voraciously.  We are always hoping for one or two or many transcendent experiences in these CDRs and tapes and mp3 folders that bombard us, and sometimes, dear reader, we find them.  Here’s this month’s report with Tim Clarke, Bill Meyer, Andrew Forell, Alex Johnson, Jonathan Shaw, Jennifer Kelly, Ian Mathers and Bryon Hayes contributing.

Adult Jazz — So Sorry So Slow (Spare Thought)

Hard to believe it’s been 10 years since Adult Jazz’s stunning debut album, Gist Is. Perhaps the title of the Leeds band’s second full-length can be interpreted as an apology to those who have been eagerly awaiting a follow-up. So Sorry So Slow has not only been a long time coming, but also unfolds in fits and starts, as if unsure of the best way forward. It’s convulsive art-pop in the vein of Dirty Projectors or Bjork, with shades of hyper-pop in the digital sharpness of some of its edges, and chamber pop in the prominent employment of strings and horns. The album is most successful when the songs are straightforwardly beautiful, as in “Suffer One,” with its Owen Pallett string arrangement, and closer “Windfarm,” which has a pure, aching, almost New Age glow to it. Elsewhere, the overall lack of focus proves frustrating, and ultimately rather exhausting, across the album’s hour-long runtime. There’s plenty of beauty to be found, you just have to be patient.

Tim Clarke

Jeb Bishop / Tim Daisy / Mark Feldman — Begin, Again (Relay)

Begin, Again welcomes a couple of revenant Chicagoan musicians. Trombonist Jeb Bishop came back to the city after roughly ten years away, and violinist Mark Feldman after about 40. Drummer and vibraphonist  Tim Daisy invited them both to workshop some material in his home studio, and this session resulted. While both Bishop and Daisy wrote pieces, there’s an authentic ensemble feel; this music is very differently balanced than Daisy’s other chamber trio, Vox Arcana. Quick changes in direction and two-on-one dynamics abound, and it’s all enacted with a lightness that gives this music a feeling of floating even when the players are bearing down with serious intent.   

Bill Meyer

Cadence Weapon — Rollercoaster (MNRK)

The first thing you hear on Rollercoaster is a warm strum of acoustic guitar and the mellifluous voice of Bartees Strange. Then Canadian rapper/activist Rollie Pemberton AKA Cadence Weapon takes aim at technological saturation on his new LP Rollercoaster. The hectic production (there are 11 producer credits) mirrors the overwhelming chaos of social media flooded with bots, trolls, ads and misinformation overseen by the bloodless founder of Facebook and X’s fatuous head jester. Hip Hop, electro, RnB and manic hyperpop provide the backdrop to Pemberton’s diatribes which, although they occasionally have an odor of fish-filled barrels, say what needs saying with a maximum of snark and wit. Strange reappears periodically to offer a more organic musical and lyrical counterpoint to the hyperactivity. Pemberton has the awareness to embrace the paradox of working within the system he excoriates which adds an edge to his lyrics. If no-one is innocent and everyone’s throwing stones, Cadence Weapon is at least slinging the sharpest slates.

Andrew Forell  

The Children… — A Sudden Craving (Erototox Decodings)

Michael Wiener describes the music of The Children…, his long-running collaboration with Jim Coleman, Phil Puleo and others, as “gothic blues ambient.” At the height of my concern for tidy iTunes taxonomies, I would’ve been thrilled to think of that. And I’m not being glib: it is apt. One might be tempted to flip the last two words to get the more genre-y “Gothic Ambient Blues,” but Wiener, a Dusted contributor, has the order right. Their latest release, A Sudden Craving, may lead with a loose-hinged “gothic blues,” complete with eerie electronics, possessed voices, disturbed drums and alternately ghostly and shearing guitar chords, but it’s the way the band plays in the looming ambience, the engagement with the persistent presence of space – traced, occupied and ruptured – that ties together the album’s unsettling visions. In its haunted volatility, this can be a viscerally entertaining record and easy to get into, just make sure to carve out enough headroom.

Alex Johnson

Ciro Vitiello — The Island of Bouncy Memories (Haunter x Hundebliss)

Italian producer Ciro Vitiello’s work plays out like a reverie in the liminal space between dream and memory. Ethereal vocals and impressionist lyrics from Russian born singer Zimmy and Italian musician CRÆBABE float on warm wisps of synth and closely miked acoustic guitars. The instrumental tracks have a fractal, dislocated feel as Vitiello layers keyboards and sound effects of water, birds, child’s play and the odd menacing sounds one images hearing in the beast filled fairytale forests of childhood. The mood darkens further on “Sell Change of Heart for a Crocodile” or “Living in a Bouncy Castle” as scratchy disruptions like misfiring synapses interrupt the former as the keyboards swell crepuscular in the background. On the latter, titular castle seems to be deflating slowly, closing in on the occupants in slow motion, the air escaping in big wet bubbles. CRÆBABE closes the album steeped in a lonely haze of romantic and erotic nostalgia. Altogether as lovely and disquieting as the misty maze of memory can be.        

Andrew Forell

Coral Morphologic & Nick León — Projections of a Coral City (Balmat)

Miami duo Coral Morphologic (marine scientist Colin Foord and musician JD McKay) have worked together since 2007 producing projects that raise awareness of threats to marine biodiversity. Their new collaboration with producer Nick León soundtracks a multimedia installation which imagines the rising ocean reclaiming their city and enabling its colonization by resurgent coral reefs. The trio imbues this five-track suite with the tenacity and generative power of coral. An aqueous flow of somber tones dominates, but within them minute lifeforms take shape, coalesce, and spread with a quiet majesty that evokes the fragility of the reefs and inexorable process of survival and regrowth. Projections of a Coral City feels like a requiem, as much for Miami as the damage it has wrought on its environment. Poignant and hopeful it is a fitting tribute to the worlds we are in danger of losing for ever.    

Andrew Forell

Critical Defiance — The Search Won’t Fall (Unspeakable Axe)

Chilean thrash specialists Critical Defiance have delivered the metal record equivalent to a day at a theme park — absent all the waiting around in long lines. There are some long-ish tunes on The Search Won’t Fall (the title track runs close to eight minutes, and album closer “Critical Defiance” clocks in over nine and a half), but you never have to wait, for the next shift in rhythm, usually from fast to really, really fast; the next solo; the next crunching, athletically paced riff. Rollercoaster-scaled ascents and descents? Yep. Tilt-a-Whirl passages of dizzying axe-craft? Check. And the whole thing has the sort of so-bad-for-you-it’s-good sensibility of that extra-large bucket of French fries that came out of a huge bag of frozen shards of spuds, or the funnel cake you watched some tatted-up kid squeeze into a viscid pool of boiling oil of indeterminate age. It’s all hugely entertaining. This reviewer loves it when the songs get short; check out the sequence of “All the Powers” (44 seconds) to “Full Paranoia” (85 seconds) to “Margarita,” in which the record suddenly bottoms out into power-ballad mode. The move is delightfully goofy, a stolen kiss in the Tunnel of Love. It’s an open question if listening to The Search Won’t Fall has any sort of enduring significance, but when the ride is this much fun, who really cares?

Jonathan Shaw

Hässlig — Apex Predator (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

Hässlig makes an unhealthily ugly sort of noise that the metal underground has insisted on calling “blackened punk” — a strangely provoking phrase that we seem to be stuck with. This specific iteration of the sound renders the relative kinship to punk neutral (wouldn’t “raw black metal” suffice here?), or perhaps a bit more worrisome. We should note that sole member DB also makes an especially bleak variety of depressive, sometimes doomy black metal under the name Negativa, the band logo of which does an irritating nod-and-wink in the direction of the swastika. So: A Spanish dude who records under a German-sounding band name and makes a record titled Apex Predator? Do we have to do some digging on the internet’s expanding communities of fash-hunting metal listeners? Likely we can take some consolation from Hässlig’s relationship with Sentient Ruin, a label that doesn’t fuck with NSBM nonsense. Unhappy song titles like “Psychopathic Triumph” and “Raping the Exoskeleton of Life” are likely meant to communicate equal-opportunity misanthropy: DB hates everybody. But “Slaves” and “Watch Them Hang” are a more unsavory combo, and it doesn’t help that DB claims Bone Awl and Ildjarn as influences. One wonders if associating the project with punk is a sort of semiotic gambit, hoping to temper some of the more troubling language DB uses (and maybe gets an edge-lord charge out of). It’s all becoming a bit tiresome. This reviewer really enjoys the music on Apex Predator, but by saying so, what is he validating?

Jonathan Shaw

Hour — Ease the Work (Dear Life)

Michael Cormier-O’Leary leads an ensemble of 10 through pensive instrumental reveries in this third full-length as Hour. You might know Cormier-O’Leary from the bands 2nd Grade or Friendship, or from running Dear Life Records. Others playing here have done time in various ambient, folk or mildly experimental outfits, Jason Calhoun, the synth player, in Paper Armies, Elizabeth Fuschia, a violinist in Footings and on the last Bonnie Prince Billy album, Peter Gill from 2nd Grade and drummer Peter McLaughlin from Dead Gowns among others. But the players meld in a very seamless, ego-less way, supporting brief, lovely bits of melody in guitar, strings, percussion, keyboards and, occasionally, electronic samples. The title track ambles nonchalantly, a skittery beat pacing tremulous washes of strings . “Dying of Laughter,” shades a little darker, pitched somewhere between conventional Americana and David Grubbs’ languid improvisations. None of these tracks last very long or stick very well in the limbic system, but Ease the Work is, regardless, a very pleasant way to spend three quarters of an hour.

Jennifer Kelly

Paul Lydon — Umvafin Loforð​un (Píanó)

Paul Lydon is an American who has lived in Iceland since the late 1980s. Throughout that time he’s kept up persistent but low-key recording under the names Blek Ink, Sanndreymi, Paul & Laura and most recently his own name. Over time, the music has changed from brittle, miniature songs to deliberately paced piano instrumentals. As befits a guy who lives his life within cultures, the music on Umvafin Loforð​un (translation: Wrapped Up In Promises) doesn’t slot easily into any genre. While spare, it lacks minimalism’s interest in repetition, and in its quiet way it remains to assertive to be ambient; and while his articulation brings to mind Mulatu Astatke and Alice Coltrane, there’s really no jazz or Ethiopian influence, just a similar respect for the qualities of individual notes. It does give the impression of reflection, as though he’s conversing with himself when he plays, but each piece has a lucidity which suggests that any spontaneous processes are tempered by some compositional pruning. It’s companionable stuff, at the service of those who could use some quiet company.

Bill Meyer

Mandy — Lawn Girl (Exploding in Sound)

Sugar pop melodies nestle into blistering onslaughts of fuzz guitar in this first solo outing from Melkbelly’s Miranda Winters, and maybe what’s interesting here is how a mature artist uses the basic rock and roll tools of her youth.For instance, though a new mom and well past the acne years, Winters casts a jaundiced eye on teenage love in “High School Boyfriend.”The song ends in a drum churning, guitar-busting, cheerleader shouting finale that kicks the whole experience to the curb.Sludgy “Forsythia,” by contrast, acknowledges the distance that Winters has travelled, the experiences she’s had, though that knowledge comes couched in muscular guitar blare.The one cover, of Jimmy Webb’s “I Am a Woman Now,” is acoustic and soft enough that you can hear Winters taking a sniffly breath, but also searing.“Now that I’m a woman, everything has changed,” she murmurs.The sentiment, maybe, but not so much the sound.

Jennifer Kelly

Orgöne — Chimera (3 Palms)

A chimera is a monster constructed of various parts—body of a lion, wings of an eagle, tail like a snake, etc.—and while by no means a monster, this latest LP from the West Coast soul collective Orgöne melds disparate threads into a slinky, funky groove. You can hear, for instance, futuristic fusion jazz, polyrhythmic Latin percussion, Afro-beat, way out soul positivity and psychedelic rock in these cuts, some instrumental, some with chanted vocals. An organ trembles with flickery vibrato, a bass slaps the off beats, a drum cadence saunters shambolically; it’s hot and cold at the same time. Blues-funky “Parasols,” blurts low-end and oozes chill, like Booker T & the MGs, but looser and more discursive. The groove rears up and you expect an old-style soul chorus—Charles Bradley maybe—but the work is done by the instruments, a nattering guitar and a flaring soaring keyboard. “Basilisk” twitches with wah wah and shudders with blasts of bass, not so far off from what the Budos Band does, but “Tula Muisi (Dance with Them)” adds torrid, Afro-beat style vocals. This stuff is fine on the home speakers, but likely much better in the room.

Jennifer Kelly

Polar Inertia — Environment Control (Northern Electronics)

There’s a lot of obscurity surrounding taciturn Parisian techno… artist? project? collective? Polar Inertia, but after a self-described “eight years of silence” they’ve reappeared with a full-length LP (a full hour, even) after previously only releasing EPs and live recordings. As with those EPs, there’s one track with a grim, foreboding spoken word accompaniment and if it puts one in mind of Annihilation at the South Pole, well, following it up with the brain-frying fuzz and throb of “Smothering Dreams” cashes that check immediately. The rest of the album ranges from beatless, dense noise (“Modeless Singularity”) to darkly insistent techno (“Arctic Singularity”) but all with enough of a shared vocabulary and similarly overwhelming, totalizing effect that it all lives up to the end of that opening monologue: “You will soon conceive what polar inertia is. What we do, at our scale, is environment control.”

Ian Mathers

Tomeka Reid / Isadora Edwards / Elisabeth Coudoux — Reid / Edwards / Coudoux (Relative Pitch)

This hour-long, completely improvised performance was captured in August 2021. The trio had played together a few days previously at the third iteration DARA Festival, a gathering of female string players organized by Biliana Voutchkova, so this was not a first encounter, but the trio’s interactions express a still a freshness that could come from players newly falling into a sympathetic union, or simply from the good vibes that tended to suffuse gatherings that post-vaccination, pre-Delta variant surge summer. Tomeka Reid (USA), Isadora Edwards (Chile/UK), and Elisabeth Coudoux (Germany) all play cello, and there’s sufficient consonance within the collective’s approach that time spent trying to figure out who’s who would be wasted. Rather, appreciate the spontaneous counterpoint, astute support, and uncluttered clarity of these four improvisations, which flow easily from rustling quietude to bright, bold cross-hatchings.

Bill Meyer

Sam Rubin — Bullet (Pleasure Tapes/Michi Tapes)

Two bullets, labeled “Bullet” and “Bullet 2” rip through the air on scuzzed-out guitar tone, like shoegaze but dirtier, as a rapturous chaos of drumming erupts and a noxious fog of noise envelopes high wistful vocals.You can taste the grit and sulfur in the air. Sam Rubin raises a lo-fi racket out of Kent, Ohio, letting factory effluents run through fragile melodies, corroding them, poisoning them and coaxing a poisoned beauty from the wreck. From the heart of Red America, Rubin launches “Trump,” a slow-motion, gut-shock of lumbering chords and feedback, but the best songs are about firearms.“Sniper Rifle” closes things out with Swans-ish clangor, guitar, drums, bass, all jumping on the downbeat, repeatedly, like a metal stamper gone amok in a post-apocalyptic heartland. Good stuff.

Jennifer Kelly

SAICOBAB — NRTYA (Thrill Jockey)

NRTYA by SAICOBAB

Japanese quartet SAICOBAB douses Indian raga in accelerant and showers it with sparks, creating an amorphous and fiery mix of traditional and contemporary sounds. Vocalist YoshimiO (Boredoms, OOIOO) both leads and chases the melodies proffered by sitarist Yoshida Daikiti. The two are engaged in a whirling quickstep (NRTYA is Sanskrit for “dance”) over the polyrhythmic pulsations of Motoyuki Hamamoto and Yojiro Tatekawa (Boredoms). The four musicians apply a hyperkinetic avant-rock slant to the traditionally placid raga format, emphasizing both rhythmic and melodic movement. YoshimiO’s extremely broad vocal range helps the music leap into the fourth dimension, and subtle electronic flourishes offer a glimpse into SAICOBAB’s futuristic worldview. With NRTYA, SAICOBAB challenges tradition, as the group’s infectious energy fractures the boundaries of both time and space.

Bryon Hayes

Alena Spanger — Fire Escape (Ruination)

Fire Escape by Alena Spanger

Alena Spanger’s voice is small, soft and very brave, as she ventures out of the shelter of prettiness into the wider world of dissonance and experiment. The singer made her first mark in Tiny Hazard, a Brooklyn art-music ensemble that similarly tested the boundaries of pop. Here in her debut solo album, she coos and hums and trills against a shifting background of baroque experiment; she lets us in, engagingly, into strange and wonderful places. “All that I Wanted,” for instance, pits a wild splatter-beat of tonal percussion, against a wispy pop anthem. “All I wanted is to dance with you,” she declares, in true diva pop style, against surging synths—but wait for it, the tune disintegrates into a soup of off-kilter fragments and spasmic beats. Spanger has some of Joanna Newsom’s wiry fragility, a way of infusing melody with intelligence and conflict, and she surrounds herself with Brooklyn avant-garde-ists, like Kalia Vandever on trombone in “My Feel,” Kitba’s Rebecca El-Saleh and harp and the critic Winston Cook-Wilson on keys and percussion. Ryan Weiner, who was also in Tiny Hazard, plays, engineers and mixes. But in the end, it comes down to one Alena Spanger, with the girlish voice and the voracious appetite for innovation. She can make a Satie reference sound like a sweet confessional ditty and a fire escape stand in for the soft, comforting edge of experiment.

Jennifer Kelly

Sunburned Hand of the Man — Nimbus (Three Lobed)

Nimbus by Sunburned Hand of the Man

Nimbus is Sunburned Hand of the Man at peak fidelity.Imagine Ken Kesey’s Furthur bus tuned up, cleaned up and given a fresh coat of DayGlo.The album also spans multiple iterations of the ever-mutating Sunburned line-up.Original member Phil Franklin returns after a multi-year hiatus, bringing his Franklin’s Mint songcraft with him; long-time associate Matt Krefting appears, offering a sinister spoken word monologue as the band writhes beneath.Poet and new Sunburned member Peter Gizzi unravels his verses over a pair of synth-heavy tunes: both the loping title track and the intense “Consider the Wound” benefit from his wry deadpan.The rest of the tracks are fare for those yearning for the Sunburned of yore, full of lysergic introspection and hedonistic grooves.Even at their cleanest, Sunburned Hand of the Man are weird and wild to the very core.     

Bryon Hayes

[puzzlingrubberknife]

Finally went ahead and designed fankids for me and Puzz, creds to @anewbieartist356 for coming up with their names + concepts in the first place :3

More info on them below!!!

Mx. Tapes (left) (they/them)

Up and coming electronic music producer, mostly makes electro/progressive house (or to clarify, Porter Robinson’s older songs, listen to Language to see what I mean) but likes to experiment

ADHD, struggles to focus on other tasks unless music is playing

Gay + asexual + agender! Yippee!!!

Ambivert, leaning towards extrovert. LOVES talking to fans but hates confrontation

Makes soundtracks for Puzzles’ shows sometimes

Gets overwhelmed by loud noises and lights easily, with the exception of performing. They WILL need a nap after the show however

Other than music, likes drawing and writing lyrics/poetry. They draw their own cover art, and if they need a singer to feature in a song, they write their own lyrics!

Gets along very well with their parents, though Puzz might get overwhelmed by their excitable nature sometimes. Good thing he knows exactly how to calm them down!!! (Ahem music)

Also gets along well with their sister, but has to be careful in her working area. They’re a bit clumsy, and lord knows what would happen if they break something of hers

Lower arms are retractable when needed. They use their extra arms to help with producing and performing.

Only ever takes the headphones off if they’re going to sleep or in a quiet room

Every button on their face makes a little noise like real launchpads (they can customize the noises themselves but they default to synth) and lights up (also customizable but defaults to a ripple visual). Be careful though! They’re sensitive!

Voiceclaim is Pal from Playtime With Percy. Because fuck yeah

Ms. Monitor (right) (she/her)

Nurse and babysitter. The kids love her, but the adults get creeped out by her sometimes. She’s more polite to kids than adults (with the exception of her parents + a handful of people)

AUTISM!!!! YEAH!!!!! Very quiet unless she’s working

Demisexual lesbian hell yeah!!!!

Has some anger issues. Tries to be more patient with her patients (haha) and her sibling

Expanding on the bullet point above. If someone tries to hurt her or her patients, intentionally ruins her work, or is just a little mean to her, she’ll LOSE IT. Her face will turn red and she’ll swap her hands out for whatever weapon she feels like using at the moment.

Plays Puzzles’s shows for the kids, it helps him get closer to his OH SO PERFECT five star rating. Always a couple sticklers, though…

Very sensitive to bright lights, so she doesn’t go outside much. Hospital lights are a weird exception.

Tolerates her sibling, to say the least. Still very clearly cares about them though

Yeah, uh. Those aren’t legs. It’s just a giant pointy hovering thing that looks like legs.

Voiceclaim is the Not So Imaginary Friend from Pressure but like. Add the same voice effect Pal has.

[marinerainbow]

//O M G so I love your eel ideas and now I have to tell you mine.

Smartass: California Moray (Gymnathorax mordax) because they're brown, toothy, have goldish brown eyes and while its rare they have attacked humans and left puncture wounds. They have a pharyngeal jaw, which is an extra set of jaws that come out from the back of their head to drag prey to their throat. They also enter symbiotic relationships with shrimp and that works with Smartass' "you scratch my back, maybe I'll scratch yours" mentality. He's patient and intelligent if not slightly viscious.

Greasy: Green Moray (Gymnothorax funebris) Like Smartass he also has a pharyngeal jaw but is freakier and creepier with it. He is a cooperative hunter and will often follow anyone who is slightly better at it than him so he can have his share of the spoils. His goal is to mate as much as possible and have loads of his little descendents swimming the seas. Only problem is no female moray will choose him. But like most morays, he will wait until game comes to him. POV: You're a female moray minding her own business and this guy tries to charm you.

Wheezy: Wolf Eel (Anarrhichtys ocellatus) While not technically an eel (though don't bring this up to him he'll snap your fingers off) he's a valued asset because of his formiddable jaw. He's incredibly patient and a sharp shooter with his tail, curling into an S shape for his attack. Wolf eels are actually very curious and good at hiding. They also make good parents and mate for life. They are hunters from Day 1. Also as they age they turn browner or olive green and their pattern is somewhat smokey.

Psycho: Shortfinned cutthroat eel (Synaphobranchus brevidorsalis) they're long bottom feeders and efficient hunters who love their food and will also eat dead matter. At first I was going to make him an electric eel because his weasel version probably had electro-shock treatment but then I remembered they're freshwater so he wouldn't be able to live in the sea but the cutthroat species communicate through electrical organ discharges. Also the name was just perfect. Alternatively he could be a conger eel because they're adorable but toothy!

Stupid: I'm going to agree with you and say Spotted Moray (Gymnothorax moringa) I was originally going to go with a larger conger variety but if we go by the headcanon that Smartass and he are "brothers" they should look a bit similar. Especially the ones that have kind of that goofy look on their face. They are active during the day, are usually solitary and shy and like to eat crabs. Stupid's jaw at the back is worn out a bit from being too overexcited when grabbing crustaceans. Keeping them is imoractical due to their size. Look at this unit!

Just gonna put this ask here, so anybody who reads this will see what you mean right away ^^ and don't worry about it!

I absolutely love all of these options! I gotta agree with them ^^ And I got to learn some new species too. I'm very intrigued by the wolf eel ^^

Ngl my favorite is Greasy. Just- ok let's analyze this real quick. Among animals, while the other males are duking it out trying to woo the females, a weaker but smarter male will find a way to sneak past them. And the female is so into it!! Here, it sounds like Greasy is indeed the more intelligent bachelor among Moray Eels. At least the most clever. But Greasy is such a creepy dick that the girls still pass him up! They pass up the chance of their descendants knowing how to survive because Greasy can't keep it in his pants! Greasy blocks himself! 🤣🤣

Also, that picture is just sending me. Imagining that eel as Greasy. And just... It looks so cute! Even though it looks like it's rearing to attack the cameraman XD @slashingdisneypasta would you be able to resist that face on Eel!Greasy? XD