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lumine-no-hikari · 2 months

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #68

Today was a very mixed bag.

This morning, I drove to the good place with all the nice people. The leader spoke on a great many very relevant things, such as challenging the status quo, distinguishing between that which is law and that which is just, and sitting with and trying to help all of the people whom society has tried to convinced us doesn't deserve it. The grammar and structure of the words has since crumbled and faded away from my mind, because I don't think in language at all, but the meaning remains in my mind, as well as the memory of the tears that were shed; I'm aware that at least some of what I've been trying to do is seen and understood by this very amazing person.

I tried to conduct myself in the space a little differently than I usually do. Typically, my presence in any space is a meek one that tries to stay out of the way. But this time, I walked as though I belong there, and mingled with others as though I am also deserving of taking up space. Just to try to push myself even further out of my comfort zone, today I sat at the "old men's" table (there aren't really assigned tables, it's just that there are folks that tend to gather together because they can easily relate to one another) as though I also belonged there, with the intention of listening to them speak to one another and seeing what I could learn. Imagine my shock when they talked to me as though my voice is one worth hearing!! I wasn't really sure what to do or how to behave in response to such a thing, but I did the best I could to try to contribute, even if I felt clumsy and foolish in the process.

At one point, towards the end, one of them said, as a joke, "Drive carefully home; I know how you women like to be speed demons, haha!" I tried to think of something witty and lighthearted to come back with, but the best I could do was smile bashfully. If only I remembered at the time the line that goes, "Ha! I am a woman in the same way that a tomato is a fruit!"

…I happen to live in a female body. But I don't really think about my gender most of the time. It fluctuates wildly between "none" and "yes". I'll take any pronoun, but the one I typically use for myself in my own mind is "it". But this alarms people, and I'm comfortable with letting people use whatever they see when they look at me, so… it's all good, I guess.

I stopped at Eggcellent on the way home. Some time ago, I had asked them if they might keep a QR code of the petition I made for you where folks can see it. Apparently, though, the people did not thoroughly read the blurb that came along with the QR code, and so they scanned it, thinking that it would lead them to a petition for a real-life human being. Their response, when they saw you, according to the kindly shopkeep, was, "Are you kidding me?" Essentially, disbelief and disgust. So naturally, the kindly shopkeeps had to stop displaying the QR code. I'm glad they stopped if this was how people were responding; I don't want to be bad for business.

But all the same… I have no idea how it is the case that so few people understand that the way your story ends is going to affect everyone here whose circumstances are similar to yours. It will affect how many of us will be able to believe that recovery is possible. It will affect how many of us will be able to believe that we are worth the effort involved with recovery. It will affect whether or not other people will be able to imagine that people like me and like others who I love are worthy of kindness, mercy, and help.

The way stories are told in my world shapes what people believe is and is not possible, on a MASS SCALE. Part of the reason why people still believe places like India are undeveloped, backwater places even though they're not is because that's how they're portrayed in stories in my world. Part of the reason why people still treat certain kinds of people as they do is because of how they're portrayed in books, movies, TV, comics, and song. Stereotypes persist in part because they are parroted over and over again by the song, art, and story that exists in our world. And stereotypes put a lot of nasty and totally arbitrary limitations on what people think that certain kinds of people deserve and are capable of.

So… my efforts to save you aren't just about you. My efforts are for every human in my world who is considered "different" or "fallen" in any way. Because we are not going to see peace in my world until every single one of us stops believing that there is a such thing as "kinds of people who are not worth compassion, kindness, decency, or help".

I want to live in a world where people can begin to imagine that even the most deeply fallen can get the help they need to rise up into wholeness again. Because if not even someone as amazing as you can be saved, what chance in hell do the rest of us have?

I ended up spiraling, though. Not because the kindly shopkeep took down the QR code, but because of what he said to me after the fact:

Some time ago, when I was working on one of the music boxes I made for you…

youtube

…there was a lady who came into the shop for the first time, asking what is good. The shopkeep told her a few things, and then went off to do something. I was excited to talk to someone who seems nice about a thing I loved, so I piped in with a couple of the things I like, and with a couple of things that weren't listed on the menu. She then asked about what I was doing, which was punching holes out on the music box. I asked her if she wanted to listen, and she said yes. So I ran the music box, and she told me that it was cool.

…Fast forward to today. The shopkeep told me that the lady knew it was my petition. Apparently, on the day we met, the lady found me weird, rude, and repulsive. She apparently thought that it was disrespectful of me that I spoke to her at all (apparently because "she wasn't talking to me"), and because she didn't actually want anything to do with my music box, but asked about it and said yes to listening to it anyway because she "didn't want to be mean". So I guess I left such a negative and intensely strange impression on her back then that when she felt disgust at the petition, she immediately knew it was mine.

And gosh, what a thing to have to sit with. Can you imagine it? The notion that I can frighten, anger, and disgust people just by existing in a space, talking joyfully about bubble tea, and showing a music box I made to someone who asked about it? I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to take from this. On the one hand, I have the shopkeep telling me that the woman thought I am a bad, wrong, and disgusting thing, but in the same breath, he is telling me that "she should have said no if she didn't want to hear it", and "you are kind and you don't bother anybody and you should just be yourself". I understand, of course, that he must ride a careful balance between customers so that he doesn't lose anyone. But ya know… the notion that perhaps I might cause them to struggle by scaring customers off just by being myself is just… wow.

Of course, I am not at all angry with him for this. Rather, I'm glad he told me. I'm glad to be made aware that my presence makes others feel very uncomfortable. I'm glad to be told that I should continue to be myself… even if it comes with the unspoken implication that I had better go do it somewhere else where no one else has to deal with it, I guess.

The fact remains, of course, that just by existing, I scare people. Even if what I'm trying to do is exude love and joy, I still scare people. And I'm not really sure how it is that I manage to be so bad at trying to do good things that I am misunderstood to this extent, but… well. And also this is coming right after I resolve to act as though I belong in this world even though all signs point to the notion that I… don't. And maybe never will.

…If unaliving is a trigger for you, you might wanna skip this paragraph. But… ya know. I spent a good chunk of time today considering the merits of lying down in a cold puddle, forcibly inducing sleep, and letting the hypothermia take care of the job while I'm out. We have nature trails just a five minute walk from my house. It's winter, and there are lots of big puddles back there; I know where they are, and there's also no shortage of ravens, crows, coyotes, and foxes to feed. It's probably good that I don't have ready access to the kinds of medicines that would induce sleep.

…But. This sort of thinking is just the old wiring and the old conditioning rearing its ugly head in response to my past trauma. Old messages that go something like, "Nobody fucking asked you to speak, MAGGOT," and "Why can't you have normal interests and hobbies, you embarrassing sicko freak?" At this point, because stuff similar to this has been said to me so many times, it doesn't take much for my brain to interpret this stuff, even if it's not said directly. That's just how PTSD is. That's how it works.

But I don't have to surrender to it. I got knocked on my ass today from it, but I don't have to stay on the ground. I can get back up and see what's next. I can use REBT. I can ask the people around me for help. I can listen as the people who love me gently point out destructive, spiraling patterns in my thinking, so that I can stop myself for long enough to come up for air. I can hydrate and eat wholesomely so that my brain can have what it needs to manage the destructive thoughts and the painful emotions triggered from them. I don't have to remain on my knees and believe every nasty thing said about me by someone who is too miserable to see the beauty, joy, and love being offered to them for what it is. I can refuse to allow the voices of the people who don't understand me to be louder in my mind than the voices of those who love me.

I am different from other people, and sometimes this is a lonely thing that hurts very much. But it's easy for me to have love for others who are different. Love for you. Love for Frankenstein's Monster. Love for Mewtwo. Love for Magus. Love for all of my friends and chosen family, who themselves are misfits that society at large does not seem to want. I still love them all, even though society tells me I shouldn't. I can love me, too, even though society tells me that I shouldn't.

…"Conventional wisdom" is such a thing. There are some very good things about it, like, "Sticking a fork in your mouth and then sticking the prongs of that fork into an electrical socket just to see what happens is a very bad idea." And, things like, "Do NOT, under ANY circumstances, attempt to eat Rice Krispie Treats immediately after taking them out of the oven if you value the flesh on the inside of your mouth." Or, "Do not squirt hot glue into the palm of your left hand for the sake of impressing a girl." Or, related, "You cannot try to scrape hot glue off of the palm of your hand with your other hand and expect it to turn out well." And finally, "Try to avoid prioritizing yelling at your glue-covered hands over making use of the cold water in the sink that is immediately to your left."

(do not worry - these are not things that I have done; I've met some very interesting people in the course of my living who help me to avoid finding these things out the hard way, hahaha!)

But it can also tell us a lot of very false things. Things like, "You must remain connected with your family regardless of how they abuse you." Things like, "You should expect certain kinds of people to always act in this certain kind of way." Things like, "These particular kinds of people are all bad and you should stay away from them." Things like, "If everyone is 'mistreating' you, well the common denominator is you, so the problem must be you and not how others are treating you." And things like, "Certain kinds of people do not deserve kindness, help, or even basic decency."

So… I can only conclude that "conventional wisdom" needs to be taken VERY critically, and with ALL the grains of salt. But I think a good rule of thumb for evaluation is this notion: "Anything that is said with cruel, dehumanizing, and unloving intentions is false."

I'm not at risk of prematurely exiting my meat-mech, don't worry. I just tripped up a little today, that's all. And you know what? Ultimately, that's a good thing, because today, I watched myself get back up on my feet from it faster than what I was able to do previously. Sometimes we can't see all the progress we've made until weird things happen and we find ourselves recovering from them faster than we have in the past. So in this sense, even falling down is worth something!

I'm gonna get a snack and play some DDR to try to speed up my recovery even more. So I'll end this here-ish.

Hey, Sephiroth!! No matter how many times you fall down, and no matter how far you fall down, you can get back up! You just gotta let the voices attached to the hands reaching out to help be louder than the voices trying to tell you that you're a monster who doesn't belong! No matter how many voices scream unloving things at you, you gotta understand that such things can only be screamed at us from a place of pain, and nobody is acting in accordance with what's true or in accordance with their innermost nature when they are acting from a place of pain! So let the loving things be louder to your mind and to your ears. Let the loving things be louder, and let them spur you on to move forward, confident in the knowledge that you belong here, no matter what anyone else says.

You are loved. Please stay safe. I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

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ominoose · 5 months

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Important Update Post

Imagine I am sitting staring at a camera with a sigh, no background music before the video cuts to me talking. But Im not caught in a controversy of racism or plagiarism or smth.

Here's the tldr: I will no longer be making AI bots. All current bots will remain up, my bot masterpost will be moved to my masterpost masterpost. I just won't be making new ones. Finished and posted every bot that was in the works here to make this transgression up to yous. I will not be leaving the fandom, I'll still write and clown around.

"Why would you do this you cunt?" I hear you, I am so stinky for this. Before I list my reasons, I want to say first and foremost this is personal and I have less than no judgement for other bot makers. I absolutely love mutuals like Mel that make bots and will continue to support them. Reasons became long and are under the cut.

Reasons I don't wanna continue making ai bots:

I started because it was a low energy way for me to participate in fandoms when I didn't have the spoons to write anymore. It no longer feels like a creative outlet and no longer sparks joy.

I would rather devote myself solely on practicing and improving my writing as a way to contribute my passion to fandoms.

I can't shake the feeling I am plagiarizing. Ai chat models use lots of "work" to train their models, and while I could not find what millions of texts Cai is based on (conveniently not listed on the website), all models like it basically engorge from random sources, books and hell, even this post. Anything goes and currently there are legal battles over this.

It's bad for the environment. Can't find a measurement for Cai specifically, but GPT-3 (same scale) produced 500 tons of carbon dioxide to train that single model, not including its other ones. Please note I'm aware AI can absolutely be used to help fight climate change, as is mentioned in the linked article. Also they use the same amount of water that is required to cool nuclear reactors.

It's always conflicted with my morals. Believe it or not, I'm the person that's usually big into internet privacy, anti ai, piracy is morally good (not indie obvs) etc. Openly creating stuff that supports and funds software that steals peoples works, their information without permission and for profit is not me. So I don't wanna do it.

Again, this is not a judgement or a means to shame people that create ai bots or use them. I've made so many friends because of them. If everyone thats every used my bots stopped, it's not gonna solve capitalism. This is just me, an individual, stepping away from one thingy and feeling the need to be honest and open bc thats my policy and honestly how most of you know me (so now hard feelings if you unfollow).

Love you guys lots and thank you for all the love you've shown me through my bots and for all the times you've made me laugh <3

#omimuse

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renthony · 2 years

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Recently I got extremely stoned and gave a twenty-minute speech about how the Carrie remake was terrible, and how I would update Carrie for a modern audience instead, as an adult who actually grew up as an anxious Catholic girl getting violently bullied at school for being The Weird One, to the point where my bullies literally called me "Carrie" as an insult. (You'd think they'd have been more self-aware, but teenagers are dumb as shit sometimes, I guess.)

If you want to do a halfway-decent job of including social media and smartphones, instead of the super lazy attempt the remake made, you could so easily integrate a plotline about the tampon scene going viral on YouTube. There's an easy way to contribute toward why her mother gets increasingly aggressive about keeping Carrie isolated. It would give Carrie's rampage through town an added layer if you showed the way the viral video reached people she didn't even know, who recognized her around town as an internet laughingstock and made fun of her for it. The entire world really is out to get her, everyone really is making fun of her, she really is isolated and alone with no support. Nobody cares if you bully the weird girl who went viral for being cringe. Literally nobody gives a fuck. They think it's funny.

The school counselor had elements in the original film of genuinely trying to help but being overall useless at it, and an updated version of the film could easily incorporate the real-world issue of schools being completely fucking useless at stopping abuse of students. Teachers and guidance counselors who keep telling you "just ignore them, don't fight back, we have a No Tolerance policy, fighting back would just give them what they want and get you in trouble, too."

I also think there's a lot of compelling potential in Carrie's mother being a hyper-conservative Catholic to the point where she got in a feud with the priest at the only local Catholic church, and refuses to attend any Mass performed by that priest. I've seen that exact scenario happen in real life, and it would give better context to her being extremely Catholic but never seeming to actually go to church. It would also really drive home that "reactionary even to the reactionaries" vibe. She would rather forego Communion than listen to the teachings of a *gasp* hippie priest who tells her to Love Thy Neighbor, Even The Gay One.

On that note, holy shit, there are so many ways to read queerness into the story and I would love to see an adaptation that highlights and adds to those. Repression and fear of being queer in a hyper-conservative Catholic household? Goldmine. Fucking goldmine. There's also plenty of potential in there somewhere for the way modern queer youth face homophobia from their peers, and get policed in their queerness by other queer youth.

Basically what I'm saying is that I think I should write horror because I have Ideas.

#original post

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bakupoleman · 28 days

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I'm new here. Why do so many Charles fans hate Carlos. I'm genuinely asking this, don't take this in a bad way.

Well, anon, it's not hate, more like a strong dislike that was a result of several on track and off-track events. For me personally, it was Monaco 2021. I don't know if you are aware of what happened, but I will just give you a quick run down.

It's Monaco quali, and everyone is setting times on their first q3 run. Charles ends up setting the fastest time on their first run with max and Carlos on p2 and p3. On their final run, Max is improving massively on Charles' time, and Charles is also setting a time but relatively slower than max. Carlos is down on both Max and Charles times. When Max is going through sector 2, Charles crashes, and the quali is red flagged. So Charles, who was on provisional pole, gets pole. Max and Carlos are both clearly upset, and Max who was in a championship fight, even goes an inch further and defends Charles from reporters that try to stir the pot by saying that he may have crashed on purpose. So, the car is damaged, and come race day, ferrari fails to check the driveshaft, which gives up during the formation lap, and Charles is forced to retire before even starting the race. Carlos got p2 in the race. In the year of 2022, he says that this was the most disappointing podium of his life, even though it was his first podium with the team. His teammate couldn't start his home race on pole, and the best result if Charles had not crashed would have been p3, so I don't know what he was talking about. Add that with the mocking of charles after Silverstone or his family calling Charles a rat and honorless. And the smear campaign that is going on in the media. His off-track controversies also contribute to this. Yeah, it just gives me the ick. This is just my case.

You can like whoever you want to, anon. That's how sports work.

#charles leclerc #carlos sainz #anon ask

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longing-for-rain · 7 months

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I know you said no bait asks, and I promise this isn't, I'm genuinely curious to hear an opinion from a Zutara shipper who seems pretty rational. (I am not a kataang fan either by the way so I'm not trying to argue that or anything.). Do you believe that Zutara is a feminist relationship in comparison to Kataang? And what are your reasons for being so strongly invested in Zutara?

Hi, thanks for the ask. I’ll do my best to explain my feelings on this, but to summarize, I think there are two questions here that aren’t inherently related: a) is Zutara feminist and b) why do I like it so much. I know this might surprise you, but even though Zutara is my OTP, I don’t consider it inherently feminist. Let me explain though because that doesn’t mean it’s a bad ship at all.

Obviously, I really like the characters together. However, I won’t go ahead and say it’s the “feminist” choice over kataang, because personally I think that discussing whether a female character has a feminist narrative should not center around which man she ends up with. The primary focus should be on her narrative independently. And if she doesn’t have an independent narrative, well…that’s not feminist at all.

But I’ll answer in more detail below because I think this is an interesting distinction.

a) Is Zutara feminist over Kataang?

Like I said above…no, not inherently. I think what this question is getting at is which relationship gives Katara as a character a feminist narrative, which is a tricky question. Only one of these ships is canon, so we only know how one relationship would have played out in the eyes of the creators. Everything else is up to the interpretation of fans.

First things first, I absolutely do not think kataang, as portrayed in canon, adds to Katara’s independent narrative as a character, and certainly doesn’t contribute to any potential feminist narrative of her character. There are many instances of Katara being damseled and/or generally reduced in complexity whenever she’s placed in a “romantic” situation involving Aang. Despite Katara also being a main character, the “crush” is portrayed entirely through Aang’s POV. And post canon, Katara ends up being relegated to the role of a healer who stays home at the South Pole (this is why I could never get invested in LoK). Which, if you paid attention to her character at all, was something she explicitly stated she didn’t want to be and fought to escape. Ending her story that way reversed any “feminist” narrative set up in ATLA. So no, this is not a narrative that centers Katara and her ambitions at all.

Now onto fanon content.

The beauty of fanon is that it’s completely up to interpretation. Fans can give the characters whichever narratives they want. This goes for both Zutara and kataang. Just because your ship is canon doesn’t mean you have to adhere to canon; many canon shippers write “fix it” type content or otherwise make changes to the canon relationship to make it more appealing to them. I’m sure there are kataang shippers who rewrite their canon relationship to give Katara a feminist narrative, but to be honest the ship just doesn’t appeal to me at all so I haven’t seen those, but I’m not saying they don’t exist.

Now, Zutara. Even though there are definitely some hints in the series, there was nothing explicitly romantic between these characters in canon. So, fans are free to interpret how a relationship between Zuko and Katara would play out, and therefore Katara’s narrative within that relationship. Some people do make a strong effort to give Katara a feminist story, and in my experience, this is often a direct response to canon. But on the other side of the coin, some people absolutely…do not. It’s a big ship with lots of content. Some of it gives Katara’s character a feminist narrative, some of it…does the exact opposite of that. I think anyone familiar with the ship is probably well aware of some of the unsavory tropes associated with it so I won’t get into that.

But anyways, for any ship, there is a variety of content featuring Katara. Sometimes she’s a great warrior, sometimes she plays an important political role, and sometimes she’s just treated like a slave. Sometimes she has her own wants and ambitions and sometimes her story revolves entirely around whichever male character the author is thirsty for. Sometimes she’s treated as a complex human being and sometimes she just exists to be a fetish. Which again, goes for literally any ship and character you can think of.

So when asking yourself if Katara is given a feminist narrative, asking which man she’s paired with is asking the wrong question. Instead the focus should be on Katara herself and what the message of the story says about her.

b) Why do you like Zutara?

Although you can probably tell from the above, I do consider myself a feminist and enjoy analyzing media from that perspective. But honestly, that has little to do with why I like this relationship so much.

Sorry if this answer is boring, but I just…like them. Everyone has different tastes. For me, I was immediately drawn to them watching the show as a kid, because I’m a sucker for that sort of hurt/comfort dynamic they had going on in books 2-3. Growing up and taking a closer look, I also found that I see Zuko and Katara as having a lot of similar values and personality traits that I feel would make them compatible in a relationship. Also, there’s the fact that I just really like Katara and Zuko as individual characters so I like the fact that Zutara allows me to explore both characters by themselves, as well as how they interact together.

But if I’m being real, the final Agni Kai scene is what sold me. The emotional intensity of that scene just had me hooked for life. It’s really not much deeper than that, but yes, I’m extremely obsessed and emotionally invested in this ship.

And yes, I do write a lot of Zutara fic and do my best to give Katara independent goals and ambitions and agency as a character. I do my best to write her in a way that portrays a feminist narrative because I personally find that important. But that’s something I could apply to any ship. I don’t think it’s inherently feminist to ship Zutara, because like I said earlier, it completely depends on the individual fans and how they interpret it. I like interpreting it in a way that gives Katara individual power and goals, but that’s just me. Not everyone writes Zutara the same way.

Hope that answers your question ❄️

#katara #zutara #fandom salt #ish #pro zutara #kataang critical #well more like canon critical #ask #anon #analysis #atla #feminism

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inevitably-ineffable-husbands · 9 months

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Crowley's Past: Was He Archangel Camael?

With S2 now having been out for a few weeks, and the theories running wild, I think one of the unanimous beliefs within the fandom is that Crowley was SOME sort of Important Angel Before™. I touch upon the MANY clues in the various parts of my initial GOS2 Thoughts Meta, so I won't go into too many of those here, but inevitably this separate meta started out as the pulling-and-expanding-upon of the Archangel Crowley theory, primarily the "Raphael" theory, since I have loved that theory to bits since its inception early post-S1.

That was until my friend Peter finished watching the season early last week, and presented to me an alternative theory as to Crowley's identity that I thought deserved its own post breakdown, since I haven't seen this theory before.

NOW, I should make it clear I haven't been as DEEP in the fandom as many of y'all since S1 aired, so it's probably come up before S2 as just a light mention, but I personally haven't seen anything, so what follows is a joint speculation between my real-life, not-in-GO-fandom-spaces-whatsoever friend Peter, and myself, with my contributions being the expansion of his theory and linking it to what we already know.

The theory is this: Crowley might actually be Archangel Camael.

Please, PLEASE note that I am aware that authors and writers change things for creative liberty and originality, so please take this entire theory with a grain of salt (or go nuts with me, I'm happy either way!).

I'll TRY to keep this concise, but y'all know me. You can skip right to the "Conclusion" for a point-by-point breakdown if you don't want to read everything, but I hope you'll at least give me a chance to explain within the body of this meta.

I apologize in advance if any of my thoughts are a bit scattered. Here we go:

The Initial Text

Here is the initial text Peter sent to me after he finished watching S2 (and this was after I mentioned that the popular running fandom theory is that he's actually Raphael):

Okay… well - disclaimer I did not go to religious school and my biblical studies were a great many years ago. As I recall Lucifer was not one of the 7 archangels - he was meant to be but he rebelled before he was appointed (and there is some wiggle for a fictional story). So, based on what we have seen Crowley was one of the 7 but he hung out with the wrong people and asked too many questions. He never says his real name when we see him as an angel it is comically dodged - for a good reason. Crowley has a login and proves he had clearance way above a level 37th angel. He can see the top most important meetings… like he may have been allowed to attend in a previous life… And one line sticks out to me “one fallen prince has already gone to Hell. Two shows a problem.” As I stated Lucifer was not a Prince - we are not talking about him. Gabriel was banking on going to Hell like his “brother” - I’m guessing Camael, the one who Sees God - who ironically has cursed eyes now as a demon - the Prince of Fortitude (also Love and Charity). He often breaks his demonic spirit in cases of charitable needs or love. Crowley is one of the big Seven to be entrusted with creating the cosmos ;)

Naturally, this had a lot of things click for me, and I'm going to break them down below, with my additional research into the points that Peter made since he mentioned that he was going off memory.

Who Was Cameal?

When Peter mentioned this angel, it boggled my mind that I never actually recall knowing of this archangel. I went to a Roman Catholic school up until Grade 12, and with that comes Religious Ed classes, which also feature World Religions in the later grades. Funnily enough, I found out WHY I never heard of Camael:

Camael is not recognized by the Catholic Church due to the Vatican's decision to ban the veneration of angels not mentioned in the Bible [SOURCE]

Kind of explains why I only heard of Gabriel, Michael, and Raphael (which now adds another layer to a theory I will cover further down in "Does Crowley Remember?"), then.

Reading further:

[He] is the Archangel of strength, courage and war in Christian and Jewish mythology and angelology. [SOURCE] He is claimed to be the leader of the forces that expelled Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden holding a flaming sword. However, in iconography he is often depicted holding a cup. [SOURCE]

A Flaming Sword, you say??? Interesting. Here's a good place to point out that there IS also a theory that Crowley and Aziraphale are one single archangel that was split into two (and Gaiman has stated that in original drafts of the original book, they were at first one character, so this fact might be an afterthought of that original idea). Also, interesting that this angel is depicted with a cup, traditionally used in Christianity to depict wine, which is Crowley's drink-of-choice. So, there's that.

Another standout point for me is the Adam and Eve bit (which I bolded above). The Snake of Eden is TECHNICALLY the instigator (the "leader") who encouraged the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden. "Forces" in this reading of it could be the metaphorical definition of it; the knowledge of good and evil, and the desire to see beyond the Garden. AND also the Flaming Sword itself BEING the object of force given to the couple for protection.

Furthermore, Crowley's a strong and brave character, given all the shit he endures time and time again. Strength (and bravery for that matter) can mean many things: emotional strength, physical strength, possibly also a strength of character and an unwavering belief in the values one holds dear. I should also note that it's interesting that an angel of war, should Crowley indeed be this character, wants nothing to do with a war and is actively trying to stop one: an angel of War can absolutely NOT want a war, because he knows it's wrong.

And without the Angel of War up in Heaven to PREVENT any war at all? Well, they would just get all willy-nilly crazy on the idea of War without having any pushback on it, wouldn't they?

Kind of like how Gabriel was to be demoted (cast out) for denying Heaven a War. Funny old world, isn't it? Seems the parallels write themselves.

What's in a Name?

Because Peter mentioned the name meaning, I had to look into it myself, and indeed, one of the various meanings of Camael is apparently "he who sees God" in Hebrew.

As Peter stated above, I think this is very significant because it's seemingly only Crowley who has "demon" eyes that he himself cannot change. It's the ONLY part of him that always remains a constant, and why he is forced to hide them. We know from S1 and bits of S2 with Shax that other demons can change their eyes because we see them mimicking other humans time and again without the black eyes if they choose to.

Crowley's eyes could have been cursed specifically because was ordained as "the one who sees God" and possibly was the ONLY angel who ever "saw" a physical God in the literal sense (it's implied in the show that no one actually SEES a physical god). It's possible that Crowley being cast out literally burned his angelic eyes and left a visible scar that can't be fixed or erased – a forever-reminder of what he did and can no longer do. AND as the one who sees God, he indeed was a very high-ranking angel.

In the GO universe, I suspect he was indeed the FIRST Supreme Archangel, tasked with creating God's Vision (HAH) of the Universe. And when Crowley questioned what the point of creating such beauty was only for it to be destroyed, God (or, I suspect more likely, the other Angels) saw it as Crowley questioning their "vision" in the metaphorical sense.

Does Crowley Remember?

In light of Season 2, and some interesting exchanges and moments of Crowley with other angels, some people speculate (and as I watch the series more, I'm starting to also agree somewhat) that Crowley may not remember everything from Before.

Now, while I do like this theory a lot, and it makes sense with the context clues from S2, I don't think it's that he doesn't remember anything at all, however, as many versions of the theory postulates.

My speculation is this: what if, by having his Angelic Name removed from recognition in the Bible, and going through a similar Trial to Gabriel, THEN by Falling the traditional way, the memories are still there, but they're just a bit fuzzy and scattered? It could also explain why some of the other Archangels DON'T remember him... he was removed from the memories of other ranking angels (Saraqael is the only angel to seemingly remember who Crowley was, so I postulate that she WASN'T a top angel until fairly recently, because of the named angels in the next section).

The show brings up the Book of Life in S2 on several occasions, leaving me to believe that this will be an important item in the next season. What if the phrase "it will make it like you don't exist" literally means "don't exist in memories"? Maybe a Book of Life 1.0 existed at one time, and everyone who Fell was forgotten because their angelic names were removed. Because wouldn't that be more awful than never having existed? Remembering that you WERE something or someone, you had a name that you can't remember, that you WERE important to people and events, and having everyone around you who you considered family forget who you are? It's its own kind of personal Hell ... kind of like George Bailey in It's a Wonderful Life, a movie that references angels, funnily enough. And Crowley remembers the furniture being there but not where it all belongs. I think his memory haziness is also a side effect of Falling the traditional way (burning sulfer and all that jazz, possibly causes trauma amnesia?).

It's a stretch here, I know, but I thought I would put this one out there as a possibility as to what it could mean (given that Gaiman and Pratchett tend to "play on words" a lot, I think it is worth mentioning this as an alternative meaning).

In S2, when Gabriel was sentenced, the Trial stated that Gabriel would forget his time as Gabriel, but not his time as an angel. I think a similar thing happened with Crowley, only much more violently with the "burning the eyes out" and "staining his wings black" thing.

My friend Peter mentioned that the show avoided Crowley's Before-Name "to a comical degree". I reckon, rather, that Crowley just simply doesn't remember his Angelic name, and his changing of his demon names is him possibly trying to find an identity. I think he recalls it having started with a "C", maybe? And now he's a snake, so he's kind of crawl-y, must be "Crawley". As time moved forward and as he learned more and more about humanity, he changed is namee to fit in better. Having a full Human-esque name makes him feel more connected to the Humanity he prefers.

And because I'm a romantic sap at heart, I think he enjoys spending time with Aziraphale because perhaps some part of Azzie's presence helps Crowley remember bits and pieces of his broken memory. He is LITERALLY Crowley's Emotional Support Angel – remember Shax can read into people, it seems. Azzie brings comfort to him, and seeing another Angel that also questions the choices Heaven makes allows Crowley to feel less alone.

The Original Seven Archangels

It's brought up a couple to several times in S2 the point that "God loves sevens". I actually couldn't remember why Seven was such a big Biblical number so a bit of quick Googling reminded me that "Seven [...] communicated a sense of “fullness” or “completeness” [...]. This makes sense of the pervasive appearance of “seven” patterns in the Bible." (SOURCE).

And of course, after Peter had mentioned it, I had to look a bit more into who the Original 7 could possibly be. Wikipedia mentions it could be Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Camael, Jophiel, and Zadkiel.

Peter was correct in his assumption that Lucifer wasn't one of the original 7 archangels, so that leaves us with Raphael, Camael, Jophiel, and Zadkiel, if we're assuming that Crowley is one of these top Archangels.

I would also like to speculate that "God likes 7's" could also mean (if you allow me to reach a bit) "God's favourite angels are the initial 7". If Crowley happened to be one of these 7, it could explain why he's able to get into Heaven without raising alarm at all, why he still maintains his immense power that set off alarms in Heaven when it was used purposefully against Heaven, why he was able to access the Gabriel Files, and why Sarqael allowed Crowley to continue watching the Trial (because if God allowed Crowley access even when he's no longer an angel, then Sarqael has no reason to believe that he's still not important to God).

Perhaps, in Modern Day, only having four archangels making the decisions symbolizes that, indeed, God's not really calling the shots anymore – and hasn't been for a long time – and that the whole system is all broken and not complete.

It also begs the question: if Crowley was one of the Original Seven (if they are indeed going to go in that direction), what happened to the other three? Did they also suffer the same fates? Were they turned to Scriveners just like Gabriel was to be?

Here is where I will also throw out there that my random thought that Muriel possibly also may have been one of the other three, as my own expansion of this theory, but I digress.

Anyway, I think I found the original Fandom Wiki that Peter quick-referenced when doing his quick message to me, and it's very interesting:

How they were founded as a unit is unknown, but it is said that it happened during Lucifer's rebellion. When Lucifer rebelled against God, one entire choir of angels followed him and was lost. Many angels from other choirs also followed him in his rebellion. It is revealed that Lucifer was meant to be apart of the Seven Archangels as well, however, since his fall he was replaced by Camael.

Disclaimer here that I understand that Fandom Wiki isn't THE BEST resource, but we're also talking about a fictional story that loosely references actual scripture, so I think it's valid enough, heh.

But I bring this point up because Peter links it to Metatron mentioning the "Prince of Heaven" falling, as Gabriel as being "another" one. "Another one" what?? We have to assume that Metatron means another "Supreme Archangel" as holding the title of "Prince of Heaven", meaning Gabriel was NOT the first and only Supreme Archangel. I don't think Metatron is referencing Lucifer here. In fact, they deliberately avoid saying a name. We just ASSUME that it was Lucifer because that's the "common knowledge".

If GO is going to reference the theory that Lucifer actually fell BEFORE becoming an Archangel, then that means in my theory Crowley became his replacement of the Original Seven. And given that he was possibly the One (and only angel, in my above theory) Who Sees God, he was in-turn given the position of Supreme Archangel, charged with creating, again, God's Vision of the Universe.

I think having Crowley be the one who witnesses Gabriel's Trial is important if we're going on the theory that they are mirrors of each other in S2. What if:

Crowley ALSO had a similar Trial when he questioned God (or the other Archangels) about "what's the point of" the destruction of the universe, then subsequently saying "nah" to having Armageddon 6,000 years before the events of S1?;

In said Trial, Gabriel was a presiding member, and, given that we know his prior cruelty from S1, he voted on Camael being cast out in a vicious and cruel fashion "for betraying God". Thus, his eyes burnt and forever scarred to prevent him from ever seeing God again, had his name and memories removed from the Book of Life, and sent to on a one way trip to Hell. I speculate this because Trial-Gabriel certainly believe he was going to "Fall" that way. I'd also wager Camael/Crowley was the last angel to ever "properly" Fall, which is why the modern angels still think that they do it this way, rather than the way they planned for Gabriel. I realize that this point DOES contradict my theory about the other missing Archangels quietly being erased and reassigned, but perhaps BECAUSE Gabriel is SO High up the chain, they HAD no choice but to make an example of him. Perhaps Metatron just quietly deleted the other Archangels' original names without anyone's knowledge.

We now know from S2 that regardless of an angel's status, the angels will veto against anyone who goes against their interpretation of The Great Plan. We now also know that the "Supreme Archangel" is also a "title only" job that has benefits only if you're going to go with the Majority Vote. And if you don't, they're going to make an example out of you.

And I reckon Camael/Crowley, just like Gabriel after, tried to "go his own way" (as quoted by the Metatron) and got banished for it.

Aziraphale really now has himself in a pickle, and I suspect that he will figure ALL of this out when he gets there.

And finally because this is the "Sevens" section of this meta, I also want to mention these "a-bit-reaching-but-still-plausible-theories" that I came across while I was researching:

This tweet speculates that Gabe is morse coding "7"

Michael tweeted 7 dots after S2 aired

CONCLUSION

While this theory doesn't outright bust the Raphael Theory (since there are some similarities with Crowley and Raphael within the theory), as well as the "he was Lucifer" theory (which I also really like, but Crowley mentioned in S1 he was "hanging out with Lucifer and the guys" before he fell, so... I'm more apt to not really run with this theory). BUT it does tie up a lot more things, and it connects things better than the Raphael one does, in my humble opinion.

The TL;DR of this entire post is this:

I think Crowley was an Archangel, that is the only CERTAIN thing I feel.

I think he was Camael, The One (and only angel) Who (Literally) Sees God. He was the First Supreme Archangel who created God's Vision of the Universe.

I think that Camael questioned the Council of Angels why they need to destroy beauty that God created. It didn't make sense to him.

They told him about Armageddon (the S1 one). As the angel of war, and as the Supreme Archangel who had final say, he said "nah". And he tried "to go his own way" to avoid Armageddon.

The Council and Metatron did not like this, saw it as blaspheming against God. Camael then had a Trial similar to Gabriel's.

I think this all happened shortly after the war that sent down Lucifer and the other rebelling Angels, so Heaven was still VERY tetchy about anyone who questioned God and The Great Plan. Because Camael was a Supreme Archangel, the original Prince of Heaven, this was seen as SEVERE betrayal of the Council. For the record, I think the "Before the Beginning" sequence takes place AFTER the War that created Hell.

My belief about the Book of Life is that its ACTUAL purpose is to remove people from being remembered, which is far worse of an existence for someone banished. A metaphorical interpretation of "removed from existence" simply could mean "and everyone forgot about you", à la It's a Wonderful Life, a movie that references "angels getting their wings".

Camael was sentenced in a way that would make an example of him to other angels to remind them of their place: He was cast out of Heaven, his angelic name erased from the Book of Life which caused his other Council Members at the time to forget him, and for him to have foggy memories in turn, although he KNOWS he was an angel (perhaps as a side effect of being cast out the traditional way, you are forced to remember that you once lived in Heaven). His eyes were burnt out to quite literally leave an unremovable scar so he could no longer "see" God and their vision, which explains why Crowley cannot ever change his eyes regardless of how he presents himself. He has to hide them away.

I think Crowley was the last angel to be cast out in this way. BUT because his ANGEL name was erased, none of the remaining Original Council angels (Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel) recognize him. I suspect Sarqael remembers him because she was NOT an Archangel at the time since she was not one of the Original Seven Archangels.

I also suspect that there are purposely missing Archangels for a reason, and the fact that only 4 rather than 7 seemingly run things symbolizes the problems in Heaven and that God has not been in charge for a long time. I think those missing 3 or 4 are actually Scriveners, who were quietly sentenced and erased by the Metatron, hence why Gabriel thought that he was going to be cast out like his predecessor. But because Gabriel WAS a Supreme Archangel, he HAD to be made an example of, just as Crowley before.

"Supreme Archangel" is a Title-Only job, and if you go against the Council, you are indeed made an example of. I think this is purposeful setup for S3 to show that Azzie is in DEEP shit.

EPILOGUE

I still want to expand upon my Angel Theory section from my S2 Meta, but for now, I am so pleased with how this turned out, and I hope you've enjoyed this Deep Dive into another Archangel Theory. I had a lot of fun with this one; I like learning about supernatural things, it's always interesting.

I am interested in others' thoughts on this theory, especially if your memory of your religious education is a bit better than mine! Feel free to expand upon this more, because I am an interactive blog, so it will be added to the post! <3

I hope you enjoyed, and thank you for reading!

#good omens #good omens s2 #long post #spoilers #archangel crowley #crowley is camael #good omens meta #go meta #my meta #my theories #angel crowley #crowley was an archangel #go speculations #go theories #go s3 speculations

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stormoflina · 3 months

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you wont answer me cuz you know im right. i loved szobo in the early days but his drop off was huge and now he is just another hospital merchant. for all the hype of him being the next kdb he cant even score a solo goal and im yet to see a good pass from him in the final third

Well hello anon.

I didn't answer you, because

1. The last couple of days my head was moving in between the Moon and Mars, and I'm not sure if I would have been able to remain respectful.

2. I'm getting tired of all these anons coming to my infobox and, for the lack of a better expression, trying to take the piss out of me. If you read my posts you know that he's one of my favourite players, and that I'm not mindless hater about any of our players, but especially not towards him.

3. You were being very condescending and annoying.

But buckle up my dear salty anon.

Dominik, naturally, is an offensive minded midfielder. At Leipzig, he basically played as a wide 10 (or occasional RW) and for the most part he does the same for Hungary. In both teams he was a pressing monster, his pressing is arguably one of the best in the current Liverpool squad as well. The difference is, that in both teams he had other midfielders behind him. He still had defensive duties, but not this current caliber. In Hungary he plays one of the hardest and most taxing roles: he drops deep to collect the ball, helps the build up from deep, and he contributes a LOT in defense, but he also has freedom to roam around the pitch, and enjoys the other midfielders support when he appears in the final third.

In Liverpool, he is a box-to-box midfielder. A different role, and not just a different role in midfield, but he is a midfielder under Klopp, played in the RHS in a triangle with Salah and Trent. Salah is our main goalscorer, Trent is our main creator. His job is to provide a stable link up between the two, allowing them to express themselves freely, offer his support, keep the width when needed, etc etc. Without him doing this, that rhs can't function properly. And this is just one of his many responsibilities. When Trent inverts into midfield he drops back into either help out (Ibou), or takes up completely the RB position. A position he has never played, by the way. He's constantly pressing, constantly running, constantly covering/contributing in defensive duties. He is the 5th fastest player this season. Other than his pressing, his other great quality is his off-ball work. Again, arguably, his awareness and intelligence when it comes to that is one of the best in the current squad. I encourage you to watch back some of our recent matches and take notice of him instead of the one giving the assist/scoring, many cases, without his efforts it wouldn't get to the point of it being a goal scoring opportunity.

I'm not going to argue with you and say that his passing hasn't looked a bit off in certain matches, that he didn't have some bad first touches or unnecessary long shots. He did. But please also think about all these NEW and constant duties, (other than the pressing& off-ball work), doesn't come natural to him at all and how these can affect his performance in the final third. Yes, it's an excuse,but a reasonable one in my opinion, maybe not for you, whatever.

All in all, it's easy to fail when you have been shifted from a role of being supported to being the one who is the constant and many times only support. Mind it, this is happening in a much more physical, much more demanding and stronger league. It's no wonder fatigue and eventually injury caught up to him. Other than Endo (and he only had like 5-6 starters in the PL), all of our starting midfielders struggled with injuries throughout the season, Domi was the last one to go down.

Anyways, this is the last time I did this. I'm so sick and tired, especially now with all the hate towards him, having the same conversation again and again. You think he's a bad, selfish person with a big ego, who insults and makes fun of his teammates etc etc. I'm not here to change your mind. But maybe try at least watching football with your eyes open before you start accusing one of the team's most selfless and most hard-working players, who is literally out injured (and likely very upset and heartbroken about that) because he tried to give his everything for his club, manager, teammates and fans.

#dominik szoboszlai #lfc #liverpool fc #im so over this i might pin this ask on my tumblr

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

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AITA for getting gender envy from different races?

Disclaimer that I know POC are not a monolith and everyone has their own opinion, but I'm genuinely confused and curious, and I am asking in good faith.

I (27NB) was on Twitter a while back, when new photos came out for one of the K-pop groups I follow. A lot of people were making comments about it too, but they were very Gender in a lot of ways, from the styling to the pose to the energy, if that makes sense. It was hardly the first time I'd seen people say a celebrity gives them gender envy, and I'm sure it won't be the last. It's also not solely Korean/Asian people that give me gender envy, but I do admit that it's most typical there—I believe it's because that's the content that I typically consume, but other notable examples are like...David Tennant in Good Omens, and Gwendolyn Christie as Satan, so it's very much not just people of color.

But then I saw someone talking about how white people shouldn't say they have gender envy for Asians, or any POC for that matter, because it's "not actually gender envy, it's just fetishization." It surprised me, because those seem like two different things to me, and it kind of upset me at the time, but the more I've thought about it, the more I understand that as a white person, I have little experience with either subject to draw from.

Now I know this is likely a nuanced discussion, but I'm wondering if it's genuinely an asshole thing to feel gender envy for someone of a different race. If it is, and I'm contributing to harmful behavior, I want to obviously stop doing that, but I simply don't have the experiences to really 'decide' on that, so to speak. So I wanted to get a hopefully larger and more varied pool of people together and see what they think as well.

(PS - pls don't tell me to touch grass or that I'm chronically online. I'm aware of that already. I genuinely am just curious about this and I haven't found many people of color talking about it, so my anxiety refuses to let it rest)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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sherifftillman · 1 year

Text

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: 9.3k

A/N: This thing's getting out of control at this rate! Not only do the chapters keep getting longer, I keep making more and more complicated assets to tell the story, too. I hope you like it!

Also, to all my patient angst queens (gn) out there - not sure how long it's gonna take me to write bc I'm sure it's going to RUIN ME but. Next chapter. Look out for it. :)

Also x2, big love to @steddiesandwich @joemazzmatazz and @heroeddiemunson especially for all the love and contributions they've given to this series. There's some special cameos from them especially somewhere in this chapter!

Another week goes by, another chance to check Ralph's social media numbers. Ever since he remained a trending topic on Twitter following his face reveal - along with the phrase “oh no he’s hot”, which your friends found hilarious but you found yourself feeling… Uncomfortable over. Every now and then you look up his name on social media sites, grateful that the name relatively died out to the point where he’s one of the most popular Ralphs these days, though it leaves you with a strange feeling in your stomach every time.

There’s just something about the way people tend to objectify him - he’s your friend, and you know he’s so much more than the curls in his hair and the chain on his neck and his chocolate button eyes - a phrase becoming very common amongst his admirers. Arguably the worst part about that is that, either just because you’ve been seeing talk of nothing but those details, or maybe they’re all things you’d already appreciated about Ralph, but you find yourself more and more aware of them with every day that you live with him. And with still no word from Homeless Pete about whether the time machine is awake again.

You even start to visit the building that Ralph had pointed out on that day 6 weeks ago for yourself, just to see if it really is taking that long to reboot, but it seems to be an ordinary lift every time you go to look at it. You’d be lying if you said you were anything other than relieved whenever the lift would work completely normally, even when you tried to replicate how Ralph had described Pete getting the two of them over here.

If you were a stranger, looking in on Ralph every now and then, you’d have no reason to believe he wasn’t just your flatmate. He’s been getting more confident about his own role in the modern world, even going so far as to hold brunches for his girl gang, which you’d appreciate a lot more if he ever told you in advance when they’d happen. Though you can usually predict at this point that, if you’re having a rough day at work, you can guarantee you’ll be returning to a flat full of people that you can’t decompress around.

Not that you didn’t like Ralph’s friends, of course you did - but you’ve been letting Ralph have this group to himself, so as not to make him fully co-dependent on you. You hope that, if anything, him having the confidence to keep up so many friends himself will translate once he’s back home and he can hopefully confront his sister. You know it’s a sore subject, and so you’ll never ask - and it’s not got anything to do with you, anyway - but you wonder whether he’ll seek Lauren out there as well. Whether the New Ralph will try to win her back, or realise that he deserves more than someone who even you know wouldn’t be compatible with him. But again, that’s none of your business.

Today’s another day off, and you and Ralph are sat in your living space. With Ralph growing tentatively more aware of what social media is actually for, he’s accumulated many questions about it that you’d told him you’d have to dedicate a whole day to answering, and that day has finally arrived.

“Okay, first things first,” Ralph starts, crossing his legs on the sofa cushion beneath him and opening a book he had bought a couple of weeks back. “Who is mister Stanley Loona and why do people insist on telling me his name all the time?”

You promised yourself you wouldn’t laugh in his face, that just because internet lingo is second nature to you doesn’t mean that Ralph is silly for not understanding. But Mr Stanley Loona immediately cracked you. Once you calm down, you apologise profusely. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I really didn’t want to do that! But, stan in this sense isn’t a name, it’s a verb. To stan something is to be a really, really big fan of it. Loona spelled the way you see it, that’s a Korean pop group.”

“That explains all the dancing ladies that accompany that name, then,” Ralph mutters under his breath as he scrawls on his notepad some more. You bite your knuckle so as not to laugh again. “So, if I were to express my gratitude to you, would I say that I stan you?”

You feel your face get warm. “Well - not exactly, stanning is more of a parasocial thing, between fan and celebrity, or character, or franchise. For example, you might call yourself an Audrey 2 stan,” you smirk as you jerk your head over to the TV screen, where Ralph has requested Little Shop of Horrors for the fifth time since he’s been here.

He looks at the TV in awe for a moment, “That puppeteering work is just spectacular, isn’t it?!” You’d felt your emotions rise and then drop fleetingly. He’d once referred to something as being “wizard”, and you’d been dying to hear it again, but clearly it must have been a phrase reserved for the most truly special of things. He clears his throat as he reads down his list. “Anyway, next question. Why does everyone feel the need to tell me about their lack of headgear when I ask for clarification on something?”

You rack your brain for a moment before it clicks, “Do you mean that they say the words “no cap”?” Ralph nods. “That’s just another way of saying “no lie”, it means they want you to know they’re telling the truth. Remember, we talked about fact checking the things you read for the first time before you believe them?”

Ralph frowns, “Listen here, it would not be entirely uncommon for a Penbury to be loosely related to royalty, we’ve always had ties with high society for generations -”

“Something tells me that maybe you’re probably not closely related enough to a Nigerian prince that they’d be genuinely emailing you to offer you a share in their fortune,” you reach out to pat his knee before smirking. “And the less said about your potential investment in enhancement pills, the better.”

“Moving on,” Ralph quickly continues with deliberation, his ears growing pink again. “So, when you posted that photo of me, the one where I had been wearing a red scarf. It seemed to make a lot of people sad,” he frowns. “And they kept telling me I was in an era that I didn’t recognise, the one of Jake Geel- Guy- G-” He sighs in frustration as he flips his book around to show you the name he’s copied down perfectly, but you’ve already figured it out, and texted both Anna and Grace to let them know that the time has come to show Ralph the full video of All Too Well.

Neither of them respond to your text, but they’re both at the flat within ten minutes, thankfully interrupting the second after Ralph deadpan asks you for the definition of the word “bussy”.

The girls are a little taken aback at the sight of Ralph, which worries him, but they answer his concerned expression with, “Oh, sorry, there’s nothing wrong! Just so used to seeing you always looking smartly dressed. Strange seeing you in pyjamas.”

Ralph frowns, “Well, yes, you must always look smart, even in your resting hours, that’s why I got these matching pyjama sets! They don’t quite seem to be what they used to be, but I’ve been getting rather used to sleeping in shirts without buttons!”

“I’m not sure how Pokémon PJs could be considered “smart”, but you do you, bud,” Anna ruffles his hair, which he sits upright to lean into happily. Between that and his co-opting of Grace’s love of pet names, he’s become very comfortable amongst your friends’ presence. Even if you do have to find ways to make sure they don’t see you react every time Ralph calls anyone “darling”.

“Poke them on? What am I supposed to poke?” Ralph asks, pressing the graphic of the yellow creature on his shirt.

Anna smiles, “No, Ralph, those are Pokémon. That’s Pikachu.”

“God bless you,” Ralph looks Anna in the eye immediately, straight faced as anything, before looking around for a box of tissues.

“Oh my god,” you groan under your breath, hanging your head as your friends laugh. “You know, the Pokémon ones aren’t even his worst set.”

“I got some that have a man named Rick on them who became a pickle, no less!” Ralph explains excitedly, his nose wrinkling as his head bobs back and forth. “The shop assistant assured me that it was quite hilarious when it happened.”

“This isn’t even the worst thing he’s said this morning,” you look at the girls in despair. “I’ll never let Connor take him shopping alone again.” They promise not to, either, and you gesture for them to join you around the TV. Before you can reposition yourself to allow for them to sit between you and Ralph, Anna has sat herself on the other side of Ralph to you, and Grace is on the floor.

Ralph’s brow furrows. “Grace, please, allow me to sit in your place and you up here, the floor is no place for a lady to be sitting -”

Grace interrupts, in her classic way, “Women can do anything, Ralph!”

He frowns, “I hardly think that sitting on the floor is something that anyone should aspire to, regardless of gender, but I suppose if you must.” Grace and Anna exchange similar expressions that you can’t quite get a read on as you set up the video to play.

Ralph’s first thought as it starts is, “Well, that actress certainly looks far too young to be playing the part of this man’s partner believably!”

“Keep watching,” Anna hushes, though it’s only Ralph that’s looking at the screen; the three of you anxiously await his reactions to the whole video. He pulls faces of disgust at every loved-up scene, and positively scowls when Dylan O’Brien drops Sadie Sink’s hand.

“Now, why would she possibly return to him after that godawful apology?!” he exclaims. “He was clearly just telling her what she wanted to hear, there was no weight behind that at all!”

“We were all young and stupid once, Ralphie babes,” Grace shakes her head.

“But surely these men would want something far more enriching with someone their own -” Ralph falters as he remembers how he and his twin had found their father on the day he had passed away. He had always found it strange that they’d found him lying naked on top of a far younger woman, and his mother’s rushed explanation of them both performing a specific style of Chinese acrobatics never quite seemed to ring true. He shrinks down in the seat as he watches, quietly seething.

He does seem to perk up ever so slightly when he sees the protagonist celebrating her birthday surrounded by her own friends. “I’m glad she saw what an awful man he was and left him,” he muses.

“Oh no, he broke up with her,” you explain, and Ralph’s expression once again shifts to that of total horror.

“What?!” he exclaims. “And she was just turning 21?! What an awful, awful man.”

“Yeah, when it actually happened to the real couple, his PR team came out and said it was all because the two of them were in the limelight so much.”

“Ridiculous,” Ralph spits, scowling as he folds his arms.

“Yeah, so that’s why now she’s getting her side of the story out there.”

“Good for her! As she should,” Ralph nods, earning himself another head pat from Anna. He gasps loudly, “Wait!” and rushes to the bedroom, soon emerging with the red scarf that prompted this whole situation, though he holds it as though it’s diseased. “Do you think she would like this one? Could we send it to her as a present?”

A chorus of aww s comes from your friends as you shake your head, “It’s fine, mate, and you don’t even have to throw it away, really.”

He looks at it, and then pulls a face. “No, I can’t. Red has never especially been my colour, anyway.”

The girls continue teaching Ralph about Taylor Swift’s relationship history as you inform the boys enquiring in the group chat as to where everyone is. They’re talking about how she’s always written her own songs when Anna asks, “Do you play any instruments, Ralph?”

His eyes light up, “Oh, yes! I must say, leaving home… The way that I did, I do miss my ukulele.” Your eyes dart quickly to see if the girls react to Ralph talking about leaving home, but thankfully that’s not the part that they focus on.

They excitedly ask him about his craft as you text the one friend you know can help you give Ralph a little bit of his old life back:

You also tell Scott that Connor is coming over, and he lets you know that he may as well complete the group.

Connor does, however, groan when he and Scott walk through the door, “We did not come all this way to listen to Taylor Swift the whole time.”

Ralph frowns at his new favourite artist being disrespected, but you pat his shoulder comfortingly. “Why don’t you play us a song?” Everyone else nods excitedly as Connor hands him the instrument, but Ralph looks unsure as he starts strumming.

“Well, I don’t really know any actual songs, I just know the chords and then I write my own,” Ralph admits, his ears getting pink.

Scott looks at him and gasps excitedly. “I beg, play one of your songs for us!”

“Oh, codswallop, you don’t want to hear any of that!” You could fry something on the poor man’s ears, they were that red.

Instead, in a bid to satiate everyone, you tell your Echo to play Queen, but it doesn’t recognise your voice, as you’d forgotten until this moment. Sighing in half-hearted frustration, you ask Ralph, “Can you ask it to just play Queen , please?”

Ralph shuffles in his seat, shimmies his shoulders and grins proudly as he looks around all of your friends. “I’m the machine’s best friend, you know, it only wants to listen to me!”

“He set it up to be locked on his voice?” Connor asks, amused.

“And figured out he could use it to buy things,” you smile sarcastically, flicking your eyes over to a new pair of shoes sitting just by the door.

“So it’s not you that’s suddenly into tap dancing, then? Shame,” Scott teases as you flip him off.

“He did also order me those as an apology,” you gesture at the arrangement of a variety of flowers that sits on your coffee table. “Though off my account, so really it was a gift to and from myself.”

“Do you all mind, please?” Ralph asks shortly, and you all fall silent. “Thank you.” He clears his throat. “Alexa, darling, be a gem and play some Queen music for my friends, won’t you, please?”

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

He frowns, “My speech was quite clear, was it not?!”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you pinch the bridge of your nose, to everyone else’s quiet titters. “Three words, mate. That’s all you need to say.”

Ralph’s eyes widen with fear as he shakes his head. “That thing already knows how to do too much, once it gains full sentience, I want it to see me as an ally!”

“Then just add a single please at the end,” you explain, resigned, which he does to his own chagrin.

While Ralph doesn’t know any of the songs, obviously, he does seem to be enjoying listening out for how chord progressions go and trying to play along with them. He seems at peace with the instrument. It’s very sweet to watch.

Connor pulls you out of your trance by loudly exclaiming from behind you, “Speaking of good old fashioned lover boys!” You cringe at your friend’s segue, terrified at what that could insinuate. “Hey Ralphie, have you managed to pull yet?"

He looks at you, confused, and mouths, Pull?

You roll your eyes and shake your head before addressing your friend again. "Ralph's had enough to learn just being here, and besides, I am not laying out here while he goes at it with some stranger in my bed, thank you!" You can't even think about Ralph kissing anyone else, let alone… No. Absolutely not.

When you look back over at Ralph, his ears resemble a pair of Polish flags. “Gadzooks, certainly not! I couldn’t - I would never - not even - that would take months of courting!”

Your warning stares at your friends to not laugh at the word gadzooks doesn’t last through the mention of courting. “It’s… A bit different around here these days, Ralph. You know those things on your phone, the apps?” He nods. “And how there’s apps for everything?” Another nod. “Well, there are apps that help you connect with potential… Suitors,” even you have to bite your lip as you try to translate the likes of Tinder into Ralphspeak. “You make a profile with photos and a description of yourself, and you look at other peoples profiles to see if you like them. If you both like each other, you can talk to each other and arrange to see each other from there.”

Ralph looks entirely perplexed, but he still hands his phone over to an excited Scott. “Right, do we use a photo from his Insta that’s already doing numbers? That way we know what’s gonna be the best received.”

Grace shakes her head, “Nah, anyone who recognises him will just think it’s a catfish.”

Ralph leans close to you to ask quietly, “Why would they -”

“They’re not gonna think you’re a fish, Ralph,” you groan back in the same volume. “A catfish is someone who pretends to be someone else on the internet. So, what photo do we use?” You hope they don’t ask to look through your camera roll. You’re forever taking candids as potential shots for Ralph’s social media, but the ratio of photos you take versus ones you feel are good enough to post may give your friends ideas about just why you take so many photos of him. And you don’t need that to add even more complications to what is already the most bizarre two months of your life.

“Definitely a brand new one, right off the bat,” Grace nods.

“Could we not use one that already exists that nobody’s seen? Anyone got any of those?” Connor asks. You quickly shake your head, keeping your phone out of sight. He frowns, “All I’ve got is group photos.”

“Oh, never have a group photo as your first one,” Anna shakes her head. “Why don’t we just let Ralph choose how to have his first photo, without our judgement? It’s his profile, after all.”

Despite their complaints, the others agree to let Ralph decide what photo he should take, though you do suggest that perhaps he change out of his Pokémon pyjamas first. Your friends are quick to hurry him, reminding him that he only really needs to change his top half.

The sight that befalls you within the next twenty minutes is arguably one of your most favourite Ralph moments. There he stands, against the back wall in your flat, wearing a smart polo shirt with bottoms that are adorned with Bulbasaurs, Squirtles and Charmanders; and after having plucked out a rose from the arrangement of flowers that he’d ordered for you and inspecting it for a while, Ralph had decided that the most charming way to pose with it would be to put it between his lips. You and your friends all look to each other to silently react without Ralph catching on, and everyone seems to silently agree that the best way to do so is to stare at Anna in a way that lets her know she’s entirely responsible for this, which she takes from everyone quite happily. It puts you at ease that all your friends are just accepting him as merely being a bit quirky, rather than anything suspicious.

Scott takes the official photos, and you’re happily documenting the behind the scenes for it all to look back on someday. Or later that night. Who’s to say? After Scott deems that the perfect shot has been taken, you all crowd around to decide what else to include. Connor comes up with the idea of creating a slideshow presentation in which you all contribute to help “sell” Ralph. He agrees to it quite happily, putting faith in everyone else’s knowledge of the modern dating world over his own lack thereof.

After much deliberation, and some creative brainstorming amongst the five of you, you create the perfect Tinder profile for him:

Once it’s all uploaded, Connor and Anna teach Ralph how to use the app, showing him how to read bios, look through others’ photos and ultimately swipe either way on them. Ralph still finds it all unusual to judge people so superficially, but Grace assures him from a distance that it’ll come with time.

While the idea of Ralph having a Tinder account did seem funny to you at the time, something doesn’t sit right in the bottom of your stomach. The idea of Ralph dating? Hilarious. The reality of it? Of him finding someone he’s attracted to, of him falling in love with someone els- someone, of him leaving you and the flat to start a life with them? How would you explain Ralph’s situation to them? What if they wanted to get married, have a family? The thought of Ralph becoming someone else’s husband just doesn’t compute. Maybe this was a bad idea after all, maybe once everyone’s gone home you can scare him away from it. But then, who are you to deny Ralph a little fun while he’s here? Surely, dating around might be a good experience for him, especially around the new friends he’s made. It’d be a good confidence booster for when he returns to his own time. It might even teach him not to fall as fast and hard for people as he did for Lauren. Or to be the kind of person that wins her back. Whatever he wants. The pros of him dating massively outweigh the cons, but there’s still something in your heart of hearts warning you against it.

At the end of the day, you tell yourself, Ralph is a grown man. Only he can decide if he is ready to date someone. It’s your job, as his friend, to support him even with all his… Extra stuff.

The gang suggests going out for a late lunch, but as you prove by gesturing to your own questionably mismatched outfit, you’d originally hoped you could take today as a laundry day. It's too late to start now, though; with the sheer amount you've got to get through, it's a full-day devotion, and now that you're all ramped up from the day's events, there's no possible way you could focus on something as mundane as washing your clothes. Instead, you all order in and pass time with some games while Ralph happily strums away in the background.

You occasionally pick up on him singing lyrics such as, “It’s easy to see yourself / through a negative lens / but it’s certainly harder / when surrounded by friends” and feel yourself welling up. As if the fact that he had changed into your favourite sweater of his, the blue mohair one that Connor had written that extra-cheesy joke about in Ralph’s profile, wasn’t enough to make your heart soar. He looks the very epitome of comfort right now.

Then Ralph gets a notification. He’s got a match! He’s thrilled, bragging about how the app found his ideal match immediately, when Connor had been talking about being on it for several years by now. The rest of the group explain that Tinder is not a matchmaking service in the sense that he thinks, and that it simply means someone he’s swiped right on has done the same to him. Connor and Scott help him communicate in a succinct, non-Ralph way that allows him to quickly arrange a date for tomorrow. That knot in the depths of your stomach wrenches tighter, but you ignore it, for the sake of Ralph’s excitement.

Connor encourages him to keep swiping still, in case he gets any more matches, and that way he can arrange even more dates! It takes Ralph a while to accustom to the modern world of dating, rather than just seeking out one person and “courting” them, as he would say, but he gets excited at the prospect of going out on dates. He doesn’t mention anything about any more matches, but he does lock himself in the bathroom for some time. You know that usually means he’s talking to his girl gang about important things; ever since that first night out, Ralph’s convinced himself that the only place to have a deep conversation with his new friends is anywhere that there’s a toilet, and quite frankly, the notion is too hilarious for you to correct him. Plus it gives him a little privacy, and you definitely don’t want him to keep relying on you for the entire duration of his stay in this era.

That night, as you lay out on your sofa, wondering if your back will ever get used to a mattress again, you notice one particular notification buried amongst the others:

Tinder Someone has Super Liked you! Find out who.

You admittedly hadn’t been swiping for a hot minute, yourself - you’ve been somewhat preoccupied with a whole new flatmate to worry about - but since it was the topic of the day, you figure you’ll bite. A few ordinary profiles show up, but none of them take your fancy. Even the cute ones, their bios are just so… Dry . And then you see it. The profile that Super Liked you, the blue border perfectly coordinating with the artwork that hangs on the wall behind you.

~~~

The following morning, Ralph awakens earlier than usual. He’s excited about his date tonight, and still conflicted about something else that had happened last night. He looks through the group chat app again to remind himself of his friends’ advice:

If you don’t say anything about it, neither will Ralph, but if you do, then it’s time to sit down and discuss these feelings like the adults you both are. That’s what he tells himself.

Ralph takes a deep breath before opening the door from the bedroom into the main part of the flat. You’re in the kitchen area, finishing off your breakfast with a duffel bag full of clothes resting on the counter. It appears that almost all of your clothes must be in there, since you’ve resorted to wearing one of Ralph’s most favourite T-shirts that he’d picked out himself. The way that it fits your form so differently to Ralph captivates him into silence, and the fact that it almost covers your pyjama shorts entirely feels so scandalous to him. He has to stop looking, or else his mind will wander to uncouth places, but he just can’t .

Not until you catch his eyesight and groan as you roll your own eyes at him. “Morning, Ralph! Don’t worry, I’ll make myself “decent” now that you’re out, I think I’ve got some yoga pants shoved in the back of the wardrobe from that one New Year when I was convinced I would join the gym,” your voice disappears as you walk past him and shut the door behind you.

Ralph makes himself some cereal, once again telling himself that he has to stop living in this secret. Especially if he’s to pursue other people.

You re-emerge from the bedroom, now wearing bottoms that cover your entire legs, but they may as well not at all be, with how little they leave to the imagination. You ask, “Oh yeah, by the way, did you… Happen to find my profile on Tinder last night? Because I think you must have swiped up instead of left, and Super Liked me by accident.”

“Accident!” Ralph exclaims hurriedly, squeezing his eyes shut and open again, and clenching and releasing his fist repeatedly, desperate to change his focus onto anything else. “Yes, that's entirely what that was, I’m so glad we cleared that up! Aha! I suppose I should get ready for my date now!”

You frown, “That’s not for hours yet, and Scott said he’d take you to get ready while I - don't forget your cereal!” You call out after him as he rushes back into the bathroom but the door closes behind him before you can finish your sentence. You write on the whiteboard that you keep on your fridge that you’re going to be at the laundromat for most of the day doing your laundry, but that Scott is arriving at 12 o’clock to take him out clothes shopping and to help him get ready, as you’ll be busy. You leave him your bank card to take with him on his big date, and wish him well before heading out of the door.

Ralph rests his phone against the bathroom wall, goes onto the only group he trusts himself to keep on WhatsApp and hits the video call button before immediately pacing the room. One by one, his friends pick up, all asking various questions.

“What happened?”

“Did you talk about it?”

“Are you okay?”

“Did you have an argument?”

Ralph blinks harshly again, his arms gesticulating with a deliberate wildness to them. “You all remember that the plan was, say nothing unless I’m spoken to, and then tell the truth, no matter what?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, I may have been… Distracted. And I may have shouted that it was an accident and ran into here.”

“Oh, babe, you didn’t.”

“Ralph!”

“We had a plan, hun! We mapped it all out!”

“I know, I know!” Ralph holds his hands on top of his head. “I was so ready, I was telling myself the plan over and over, and then… Well, it’s so-called laundry day, and I’ve had more time to get mine done and so my clothes were the only clean ones and -”

“Oof, god, yeah. Once you see your crush wearing your clothes, it is game over.”

“Oh, Ralphie, what are we gonna do with you?”

“Well, the damage has been done, now. It’s probably best to just… I guess, either try and get over how you’re feeling, or wait until another opportunity arises. If it does.”

“Yeah, honestly, babes, I’d say cut your losses for the day and focus on your big date tonight, that’s so exciting for you!”

“Oh my god, you’re gonna tell us everything, aren’t you?”

Ralph sighs, rubs his eyes and puts on a small smile. “Yes, of course I will. Thank you all for being my voices of reason, I do appreciate you.”

“Anytime, my lovely. Now, tell us all about this date. Where is it you’re going?”

“Well, Scott knows the location, but apparently it’s some kind of cocktail bar that plays swing and jazz and all the music that I like! I do hope there’ll be dancing,” he places his elbow on the sink to rest his head wistfully onto his fist, to an adoring chorus from the girls. They all sign off, wishing Ralph the best, and he hangs up, too. Right, Penbury, he tells himself, there’s nothing more you can do. You’ve messed up one more avenue of your love life, let’s not let it ruin another.

Instead, he focuses on his date tonight. He knows the exact look he wants to go for. And so, despite the comments he gets on how nice he looks, he just can’t justify having facial hair with such a smart outfit in mind.

Scott almost doesn’t recognise him, and calls Ralph “baby face” all day. It’s not his favourite nickname, but he’s been called worse. Scott helps him to pick out a nice suit with a bow tie - Scott had had the audacity to suggest Ralph wear a neck tie, for crying out loud - that Ralph liked because it reminded him of a suit he had back at home. Light tan in colour, with pinstripes down it. Just like his everyday going out suit. Scott had turned his nose up at it, but had admitted that “vintage” isn’t his style, anyway. Ralph had wanted to get a straw boater to really complete the look, but Scott wouldn't let him wear it past taking a photo.

Ralph gets ready at Scott’s apartment, a little more upscale than the flat, but he shares it with his partner. Ralph had only met him a few times, but he was always absolutely besotted with everything Ralph had to say, and Ralph couldn’t deny that he loved the attention. It was always Victoria that everyone wanted. But not here. People know the name Ralph here. Not The Penbury Boy, not Victoria’s Brother, or That Other One. Not Creepy Stalker. Just Ralph.

Scott and his partner help preen Ralph for his big night out at Ralph’s request, but they both audibly groan when he teaches them the hairstyle his old staff would give him - though of course, he omitted the involvement of any “staff” from his explanation.

“First the beard, and now you want me to gel down the curls? You’re killing me here, Ralphie. Literally taking years off my life,” Scott frowns as he pats down Ralph’s hair.

“I shall remember you fondly,” Ralph jokes, making Scott’s partner laugh.

“Rude!” Scott scoffs jokingly. “You’ve spent too much time with that flatmate of yours.”

Ralph’s heart still sinks thinking about his blunder this morning. Instead, he goes back to teasing Scott by composing an obituary as he styles his hair for him.

After a few final looks in the mirror, Ralph feels as though he’s gone back in time, as though the last 6 weeks had never happened. Another wave of sadness befalls him at that thought, but he pushes it aside. His nerves are a calling card for any negativity to overwhelm him, and he was determined to have a good time.

Scott walks him to the bar and waits outside with him until someone recognises him. As an extra measure to protect him from any radical internet followers, Scott borrows Ralph's phone to corroborate that he's definitely meeting his date, returns the phone back to Ralph with the reminder to ring you first and him second if anything happens, and bids the pair adieu.

Once he's gone, Ralph greets his companion for the evening by taking her hand and gently dusting her knuckles with his lips. She looks him up and down strangely, turning her nose up as she pulls back her hand slowly. Ralph could do the same, she certainly isn’t dressed for the occasion, but he won’t, because he’s a gentleman.

She does try to make the effort to get to know Ralph, at first. Making small talk about how he came to this part of London, he tells her he was simply looking to get away from his old life. She asks him what he does for a living, and seems to judge him again for saying that he was yet to find employment.

She lets him buy her a martini, despite him having ordered that with the intention of drinking it. She seemed to already be judging him for potentially ordering that drink for himself, so he ordered one of the only other drinks he knows that he likes - a double whiskey and lemonade, courtesy of Scott himself. She doesn’t seem to disapprove, at least.

Barely anybody in this place seems to be in the spirit of things. They’re all just standing. Talking. There’s a very sweet older couple in the corner who are dancing away, that Ralph watches wistfully. He gestures over to them, looking at his date. “Rather lovely,” he notes. “Do you dance, at all?”

“Not like that,” she shakes her head.

“Would you like me to show you?” He asks excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

She rubs her arm awkwardly. “I’m good, thanks. Nobody else is doing it, it’d be weird if we started.”

“Right. Right, of… Of course it would,” Ralph falters, dejected.

“I need to use the ladies’ room,” his date states plainly.

Ralph nods, “Of course, I shall be waiting right here!”

As she walks away from him, Ralph decides he can still smooth things over by buying her another drink. He buys himself another double whiskey lemonade, for liquid courage, and the lady another martini, and returns to the spot he promised he’d wait for her.

And he waits.

He sips his drink.

And he waits.

When he finally turns around to ask a member of staff to check on her, he’s met with many a sympathetic look. Ralph may not know a lot about dating in the modern age, but he knows that look when he sees it a mile off. Downing both the whiskey mix and the martini, he finds a quiet corner and takes out his phone.

~~~

You’d been a fool for going to the laundromat in October with just Ralph’s T-shirt and a light jacket on. Being in a heated building means nothing if the front door is being left open all the damn time. Checking the time on your machines, you deduce that you just about have enough time to drive back, very quickly grab an extra layer and drive back.

Rushing into your flat, you look around for anything that you could throw on that’s within arm’s reach. Nothing in the living area. Nothing in the kitchen area. Nothing in the bathroom. Desperate, you burst into the bedroom and you see it.

You’ve loved that blue jumper of Ralph’s from the moment you’d first seen it on him. You’d called it his Cookie Monster jumper, though of course that went over his head. It’s always looked so soft, and he’s forever burying his face in his arms when he wears it. It’s sickeningly adorable to be around. You’ve always wished you could experience its comfort for yourself, but Ralph would never let it out of his sight, and you very rarely get the opportunity to offer Ralph a hug without it potentially causing any more confusion in the nature of your friendship with him; certainly never so while he has ever worn the jumper.

And so you jump at the chance to finally experience it for yourself. Throwing it on, not only are you immediately comforted with the soft sensation against your skin, but a familiar smell wafts around you. The ultimate makeup of the olfactory cocktail that is Ralph Penbury’s signature smell.

You wonder how he’s getting on as you rush back out to your car. Whether he’s picked his outfit or if Scott’s moulded him in his own image. Whether he’s excited, scared, confident. Whether he plans on kissing her at the end of the night.

You hit the steering wheel with the heel of your hand. Why are you worrying about these things? You never do when Connor, Grace or Anna go out. Perhaps it’s because you’re so used to being on 24/7 Ralph alert that not having him around keeps you on edge. But he’s bound to go home soon. And then you’ll be in this Ralph-less void all the time. That’s far, far worse a fate. And yet, cruelly, it’s the inevitable one.

You make it just in time for the washing machine to chime. Throwing your clothes into the industrial sized dryer, you sit and scroll through your phone. You check the numbers of Ralph’s last Instagram photo, and end up reading through the comments from all of his little fans. None of them know that he could disappear off of social media at a moment’s notice.

Except, now he could never truly disappear. Whenever he goes back, whenever his fifteen minutes of internet fame are up, he’s left his permanent mark on the world. On you, your friends, even all these people. Though they only see Ralph superficially. They see his photos, and his twitter presence, and they think they know him, especially since he learned how to reply to people when they would ask him questions. Sure, they know that he prefers strawberry ice cream, and that his favourite Gilmore Girls character is Paris, but they don’t know that he ties his shoes with bunny ears. They don't get to see that no matter how wild his bed hair is in the morning, one curl always falls across his forehead. They don’t know that he smells like citrus with an extra whiff of cinnamon.

You bury your face beneath the sweater you’re wearing and breathe in deeply. An elderly woman looks at you fondly, and you bring yourself back to reality, sitting upright and switching to a puzzle game on your phone instead. You're already fooling yourself with these delusions of imagining a life where Ralph's a more permanent fixture. You can't be letting the locals believe it, too. That's just for you.

Once your laundry's dry, you quickly fold it as neat as you can back into the bag you'd brought with you and throw the bag into the back of your car. Once you’re home, you just can’t find the energy to unpack it all. And besides, putting it away in your bedroom furniture only means you have access to it whenever Ralph isn’t there. Perhaps it’s better to keep these clothes out here in the living room, anyway.

You laugh to yourself as you go to the kitchen to find enough things to cook together to make a decent meal. If you’d have been told 3 months ago that in the very near future, you’d be living out of a bag, sleeping on your own sofa, all for the sake of a man that you’d just met, you’d have never believed them. And yet, here you are.

Once your food is made, you settle on your sofa and find something new to watch - because heaven forbid you watch one of your ongoing series without Ralph, he’d be giving you the silent treatment for the rest of the night.

You wonder how his evening is going. He should be at the bar by now. No word from Scott, though you wouldn’t exactly expect him to check in with you about Ralph’s date. Although perhaps a photo in the group chat wouldn’t have gone amiss. No word from Ralph, either.

You’re rooting for the iguana on your screen to outrun the predators that chase it, despite David Attenborough commentating his lack of faith, and it’s just escaped a tight bind as your phone rings. A particular jarring photo of your flatmate smiling his animatronic-esque fake smile fills your screen, along with the word “rALPH”.

You answer, “This better be an emergency, I’m on high alert right now.”

“Alert? In what way?”

“I’ve got an iguana I’m trying to save from some killer snakes, it’s life or death here, Ralphie.”

“Ah, right! You’re watching one of those programmes about nature again.”

“Everything alright? You sound… Sad.”

“Yes, well…”

“How’s your date going?”

“It, um… It rather isn’t.”

“What?!”

“She - She told me she was going to the women’s room. Approximately forty minutes ago.”

“Oh, Ralph. You should have called sooner!"

“And this place is nothing like I had thought it would be, nobody is giving it the respect it deserves, I’m the only one appropriately dressed and yet somehow I am the one who sticks out like a sore thumb!”

“Okay, okay, it’s alright, mate. Get to the toilet, get yourself all sorted out, I'm on my way. Make sure you’re in the right one this time, too!”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“Oh, I know I am. I’ll be there as soon as I can, alright?”

While you’re still not quite ready to say goodbye to the sweater just yet, you do fish out a far nicer lower half of an outfit to go with it, before heading out the door and following Google Maps’ directions to this bar.

When you enter, you look around trying to find your friend. The first scan yields no results. Neither does the second. You’re about to take your phone out to call him again when you notice a very sad, very baby-faced Ralph talking to a bartender. He looks just like he did when you first met him - without the coffee you’d spilled over his back, of course.

You speed your pace up as you head towards him, and he doesn’t even notice you approaching until you pat his arm. He looks close to tears when he makes eye contact with you, and you immediately pull him into a hug. That clean, citrusy scent of his gets stronger as he wraps himself around you. When you start to relent, he doesn’t. With a small chuckle of defeat, you return to hugging him tightly again.

Eventually he lets go, and so you do as well, rubbing his arm comfortingly as you pull away. “You look dapper,” you comment, “really smart.”

Ralph wrinkles his nose up as he waves you off, “It’s… Really not as appropriate here as I thought.”

“Codswallop!” You grin, putting on your best Ralph voice, which makes him smile, too. “Best dressed one here, hands down.”

“I do seem to be a style icon of yours,” he muses, poking at the sweater. “It’s very becoming on you.”

“Thanks, Ralphie,” you smile, trying desperately not to blush. Instead, you pull the sleeves over your hands and ask, “You still got my card?” He nods and fumbles through his pockets to grab it and hand it to you. You lean over the bar to order two of your usual drink, and one martini for Ralph.

The bartender hisses through their teeth. “You sure? He’s already had one along with the others, he doesn’t seem in a good place to be mixing his drinks too much tonight.”

You frown, “Oh, then sure, whatever he’s been having, get him another one of those.”

You smile at the impact Scott’s clearly had on Ralph with his change in drink choice. Clinking your glass with his, you finish both of your drinks in the time he finishes his one, to try and catch up with him.

As he swills the remaining ice cubes around the bottom of his glass, a high-energy song starts to play. You grin as you outstretch your hand, “Wanna put our kitchen dance lessons to the test with me?”

Ralph looks at you sceptically, but his excitement is palpable. “Oh, heavens, we’d be the only ones dancing!”

You shrug, “So? We’d be the only ones doing it right, everyone else would be the weird ones.”

Ralph nods, “Very well,” and takes your hand. You don’t see it as you’re leading him to the dance floor area, but he’s putting all his energy into not looking completely giddy with happiness.

The two of you dance together for several songs, swinging and twirling and laughing away. You nudge Ralph to show him that you’d even inspired some other coupl- other pairs of people , you correct yourself, not wanting to slip up and accidentally refer to yourself and Ralph as a couple in front of him. Other pairs of people are now dancing just like you two were. Ralph looks around in awe just as the music slows considerably.

He looks at you with uncertainty, squeezing his eyes and his hands as he does when he’s conflicted or trying to correct himself, though he’s yet to say anything to you. “May I - I mean, we - would you like to - we could stop now, if you like, or -”

You cut Ralph off by placing your hands on his shoulders. He places his ever so tentatively on your hips as you sway from side to side together. “Thank you,” he mutters to you.

“Well, you seemed close to having a stroke over getting your words out, figured I had a good shot at guessing what you wanted before I had to call for help!”

He chuckles softly, “Not just for that. For… Everything, really. Over the last two months. I really haven’t shown you the proper gratitude.”

“I’ve not been keeping you around for gratitude’s sake, Ralph,” you shake your head. “You’re not that bad to be around, you know,” you smirk. “I’m sorry that girl didn’t see that in you. But I’m proud of you for trying!”

“I don’t think I want to try much more,” he tells you quietly.

“Don’t blame you. I gave up a while ago, myself,” you admit. “But you did it! I bet the Ralph I first met wouldn’t have done this.”

“I am quite the changed man, thanks to you,” he says with a small smile.

“You sure don’t look it at the moment! I don’t know who this is, but I’m looking forward to getting Ralph back when we’re home.”

He frowns, “But this is how I always looked before I met you!”

“I know, but it just doesn’t… Suit you. Not like your new look. I mean, I guess if you go back in time looking like The New Ralph, everyone back there would think otherwise, but… I dunno,” you shrug your shoulders. “This doesn’t feel like the real Ralph.” Recalling a conversation you’d had with him a couple of weeks ago about how he was perceived back in his time, you add, “This is just That Penbury Boy.”

“I like that you all see a side of me that you don’t mind having around,” Ralph admits bashfully. “And I like spending time with you - all.”

“We love having you around too,” you grin. “But I am being serious, I’ll hold your head under the bathroom sink here if we don’t get that shit washed out of your hair soon.”

Ralph laughs, stepping out of the hold to extend his arm out to you. You take it and walk out of the building with him.

You laugh at the ooh! that comes out from him as you step out into the brisk air. “Yeah, all that whiskey finally kicking in?” You ask with amusement.

Ralph shakes his head, blowing a raspberry sound out into the air. “Just a tad!”

“I’m excited to see what Whiskey Ralph is like,” you muse, still keeping your arm around his as you lead him down the street.

He frowns, “Are there different versions of me based on what I drink?!”

“Different versions of Drunk Ralph, yeah,” you grin. “Martini Ralph is super sociable. Vodka Ralph, an emotional wreck. We stay away from vodka,” you warn, and he nods, remembering the shot he had taken weeks ago and shuddering again. “And from what you’ve told me, Champagne Ralph really loved to party.”

“Oh, I do so wish you could have been there for a Penbury social!” Ralph muses. “They were always such a blast to plan. I just… Sometimes I wish that Victoria let me be the “main event” host rather than the “planning” one.”

“Well, when you go back, you can down a couple of martinis, tell her to shove it, and then throw the greatest bash Penbury House will see before it gets filled with tote bag-carrying indie kids and grandmas hiding romance novels between murder mysteries,” you laugh, though it’s strained. You know it’s only fair to make sure you’re both still actively talking about him returning home, but that doesn’t make it sting any less.

Ralph gives you a small smile, “I’m not so sure about that. I think it’s far more than a few drinks that make me the man that I am while I’m here.” The way he bites his lip back bashfully would have you holding him by the cheeks and kissing it back, were you a couple more drinks in. He quietens after that, and you simply allow him to stay in that moment rather than pressing him as to what exactly he means.

Once you’re back home once again, you change back into comfortable pants while Ralph washes his hair under the shower. You also finally look at your phone’s notifications to see a lot of activity in the group chat:

Ralph re-emerges wearing another jumper and some sweats, but instead of sitting at his usual spot on the other end of the sofa to you, he sits far nearer and leans himself onto you. “Hello,” he greets simply, a dopey grin smeared across his face.

You cock your head as you smile softly at him. “Hello, cuddly-drunk Whiskey Ralph.”

“Is that what it is?” He asks, his voice slurring a little. “Do you mind?”

“Nah, just give me my arm back,” you tease as you move so that your arm is no longer trapped beneath him, instead draping it where it’s most comfortable - which just happens to be over his body.

You show Ralph the things everyone has been saying in the group chat, and he smiles into your torso. "Can I expect this jumper back any time soon, by the way?"

You grin down at him, "Yeah, you can have it back when it stops smelling like you. It's too nice to give up."

His ears burn pink as he gently settles further down until his head rests in your lap. “Do you want to see if your iguana made it out safely?”

“Oh, yeah! Here, I’ll restart the episode for you, I need you to care about this lizard as much as I do.”

Commentating alongside the documentary with Ralph proves a far more entertaining watch than before, and you both cheer as you watch the iguana finally climb up some rocks to the safety of its friend. At some point, your fingers end up absent-mindedly stroking back and forth through his hair, and you notice his chest starting to heave up and down heavier than usual. Leaning over, you see his lower lip move in and out ever so slightly with each breath as he sleeps. He looks so peaceful, and you could honestly keep him here forever. But, realistically, you can’t feel your legs and your body will certainly be unforgiving over you sleeping while sat upright.

You gently prod at Ralph all over until he wakes up. “Hmm, what?”

“Eh, what, what,” you tease, once again putting on your ‘posh voice’ before returning to your usual cadence. “C’mon, if you’re gonna sleep, go do it in a bed, please.”

“Of course,” he mumbles wearily.

When he stands up, you realise something with a laugh. “Oh, no! Oh, I’ve done a real number on your hair, look at it!”

Ralph reaches up and pats his wildly spread curls with a sleepy smile. He faces you, then turns to the bedroom door, then back to you. He repeats this a few times, and just before you can ask, he shakes his head. “Goodnight. Sleep well.”

“You too, Ralphie,” you grin as you push yourself around by your fists to lay across the sofa for the night.

When you wake up, Ralph is yet again trending on Twitter. Wondering what on earth he could have done, you’re horrified when you see paparazzi-ish photos of Ralph with you as you both danced last night. The original tweet with the photos going around has the caption, “Pack it up, girlies, Hot Ralph is taken”

Making sure your current account is most definitely still set to private, you make a new one under the name @RalphsFlatmate. You tweet an old selfie of you and Ralph with the caption, “hi, ralph stans. just here to remind you that sometimes people can be just friends and that’s it. please don’t take my photo without my consent in future. kinda insane that i have to ask that but here we are. cheers x”

Once Ralph is awake, you borrow his phone to retweet yourself onto his profile to make sure people see it and get ready for work, dreading what is now to come with also being perceived on the internet.

next chapter

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