#(they asked me if i was doing ok apparently i get really into it when singing along)
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icallhimjoey · 2 days ago
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Almost, Always
♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 
Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?
CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating
Author’s note: it's monday! and fake joe's here for you! he's... not exactly the best, for which i apologise, but, he's all for you, so please, enjoy him fictionally and respect him privately (too much to ask? i hope not?) ok great talk everyone, love you <33 xo
Wordcount: 6.3K
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part one - part two - part three - part four - part five
Four days of silence.
Four days of not looking each other in the eye. Of no physical touch. Of not saying a single fucking word.
You moved around each other in a shared space until you had the thought that you were probably better off avoiding each other completely for a little while.
Joe was convinced he had every right to wait for an apology before he’d speak to you again. You, however, obviously heavily disagreed.
You had just been honest.
Joe had asked for you to be honest and so, you had been, but apparently, you’d done it wrong.
It started with an evening of not speaking after an outburst. A silent night routine where you completely avoided one another. Acted like the other person wasn’t even there. You’d thought then that you’d speak in the morning. That you’d talk things out after getting some sleep, because maybe that was the problem.
You slept with your backs facing each other and dreamed of better moods in the morning.
But then the next morning, Joe had gotten up and only made one coffee.
One singular cup of coffee.
He drank it at the kitchen table, looked at you all bitterly like a disappointed parent would look at their child who was ruining their potential, and then left the empty cup there for you to grow even more annoyed at. More than you already were.
That one evening of silence had slowly turned into four days.
You bit your tongue, though. Kept quiet, because Joe did too. Stored the annoyance away. Swept it under the rug, and even though this metaphoric rug was starting to look really lumpy, you pretended you could walk over it fine still.
You then also ignored that this is precisely what the fight had been about. About you shutting up about all the little things that annoyed you. All the small things that didn’t feel worth the effort to say anything about in the moment, because you didn’t want to be a nag.
Things built with you.
Being bothersome was your worst nightmare, so you wouldn’t say anything for ages until then suddenly, on a random afternoon, a teeny tiny drop made the bucket overflow and you’d fall apart at something so stupidly insignificant which would take everyone by surprise.
Would take Joe by surprise.
And it made sense that Joe’s first reaction to your fire would be to light his own. You’d snap and shout, so Joe’d snap and shout right back.
“Babe, you never fucking communicate! It’s always– I’m always guessing with you! Just tell me when something upsets you!”
“I am!”
“Yea now you are! But you’re telling me about shit I said three months ago! What do you want me to change about something I did three months ago?!”
“I don’t want you to change anything– my God! You asked me what’s wrong, so I’m telling you what’s wrong!”
It was always the same fight. And usually, you’d end up saying something so stupid to your own ears it would break the tension and make you laugh. It’d be easy to apologise in those moments, because you knew this was on you, and the warmth coming off of Joe as he’d turn soft at your laughter would always sort of fix things.
“Stop being so silly,” he’d say as he’d hug you. As he’d kiss you on the cheek until your embarrassed grimace, aimed fully at yourself, disappeared.
“Got some moaning left in there?” he’d ask, tapping the side of your head with a finger, making you giggle despite yourself. “Want to go shout into the air from the balcony? Since you’re here now, this is the time to get all of it out.”
That was how it usually went.
And he was right; you could definitely communicate better. Express feelings in the moment rather than hold on to all the negative shit for ages.
Easier said than done, but at least you were aware that you had to stop saving things for another day.  
This time the fight had been different though. There was no eventual humour slipping through any cracks. No secret smiles hidden from each other until you stopped being able to conceal them. No apologies. Zero kind words. Just… anger. And silence.
Joe was waiting for you to break first. For your wrath to turn into something a little softer that he could mould into something more to his liking.
And you were waiting because Joe was waiting. Simple as that.
It didn’t feel fair that every time you’d share negative feelings, Joe would end up calling you silly.
It didn’t feel fair that Joe never apologised for anything.
It didn’t feel fair that, just because you were quiet for a moment as you collected your thoughts, Joe spat, “Silent treatment? All right.” at you.
Four days.
Four days of Joe making a morning coffee just for himself, actively choosing to ignore, and therefore, hurt you.
Four days of his lone empty coffee cup left on the table, which you then didn’t clean, because why the fuck would you, but the sight of it was eating you alive.
You spent four days witnessing petty, childish behaviour from the man who you started believing you needed some space from. A little breathing room. Just until he’d miss you enough to reach out and say sorry, you know?
You wondered if he was thinking the same.
If the silence was also letting his mind wander into those same dark corners yours was exploring.
But then, Joe broke it.
A glass of wine on that fourth night broke it.
It wasn’t exactly an apology, but… it felt like one. You decided it was an apology.
You were sitting on the sofa, tapping away on your phone, talking to Emily about your stupid boyfriend, and she was a good friend, made fun of him effortlessly which really did a good job of making you feel better.
Then, Joe placed a glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of you.
It didn’t fully register at first.
You saw the glass, but assumed it was Joe’s wine that he poured for just himself, and if you were going to want some, you’d have to go and fetch you own.
Mid-typing out a message to Emily about it, you felt Joe sit down next to you, and when you chanced a quick glance, you saw that he was holding a glass of wine himself as he got comfortable and turned on the TV.
Slowly, your phone lowered into your lap, and you stared at that glass of red wine on the table for a moment.
Without warning, your eyes welled up.
He poured that for you.
In the effort to not let Joe notice how this gesture hit you right in the gut, you held your breath until you were shaking, and then a heaving sob burst out of you.
Shit.
You shattered.
Split right down the middle, and burst into pieces with such vigour, you surprised yourself, but surprised Joe more.
He had expected you to pick up the glass and empty it in the sink, or whatever.
Four days was much longer than he thought you’d let this go on for.
His girlfriend was stubborn – he knew that. But four days? Four days was a really fucking long time. And, apparently, four days was long enough for a simple glass of red supermarket wine to make you cry.
The astonishment rendered Joe useless for a moment.
He just looked at you for a moment as you sat with your phone in your lap, head dropped down, and your face covered by both your hands.
This was really fucking embarrassing.
Your legs felt the want to escape the situation before your mind got the chance to catch up. You were up on your feet and wanted to bolt it to the bedroom when you heard Joe put his glass of wine down.
You hadn’t even taken two steps before you got taken hold of by an arm. Pulled into a chest. Held firmly into place.
Going from four days of moving around each other like you didn’t exist to one another, to the very sudden tightest hug you’d received in ages was a lot.
And then Joe placed a hand on the back of your neck and squeezed you gently, making you fucking bawl.
No one apologised.
No one said a word, actually.
But you took whatever that glass of wine was as enough of an olive branch to let yourself be hugged.
Be shushed quietly.
Be gently kissed and softly touched.  
It shouldn’t have counted as an apology, but you’d taken it as one, and Joe had conveniently let you.
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Saturday night.
You’re out.
Alone.
You know Emily would have come if you had asked her to, but you hadn’t, because she would’ve likely asked a bunch of questions you didn’t want to answer.
“Where are we going?” “That’s not where we usually go...” “Why are we going there?”
Couldn’t tell her. She’d try her best to talk sense into you. Would try to convince you that this behaviour wasn’t serving anyone in the long term.
And she’d be right.
But you currently don’t really care about the long term.
Short term is where it’s at.
Where all the fun and the excitement lives.
So you’re out. Having drinks at a bar by yourself, and you do your very best fending off any trickle of doubt at your life choices until you see him walk in.
Jackpot.
You fucking knew it.
You pretend you haven’t seen him at all, of course. Continue your chat with the girl behind the bar, until suddenly–
“You know you’ve got the worst timing?”
Joe sneaks up on you.
His voice is low in your ear, and you do your very best to sound as surprised as you possibly can when you gasp a small breath, all innocent. You turn your head to see him over your shoulder, both his hands on your sides as he looks down at you.
“Fancy seeing you here.” You say it like you truly didn’t expect to run into him.
Oscar worthy.
Well. It would have been, had you not both been very aware that you’re exactly where you are for this exact reason. Wearing what you are wearing, drinking what you are drinking. It’s more than a lucky guess that he’d be here tonight.
Joe’s predictable like that.
Men in general are easy like that.
“I’m here with a whole group.” Joe’s making excuses he already knows aren’t going to stop either one of you.  
“Do I know them?”
“No.” Joe answers as he scans your face from the side. God, you look all… glossy.
“Good.” Would’ve been a bit awkward otherwise.
“You better hang around for a bit.” Joe gives you a face, sort of stern, and it’s so comfortable to frown at him. To act all offended. Like it’s not exactly what you want to hear.
“Excuse you, I’m–” you start all aghast, and want to add, I’m seeing someone, which is a lie, but you get cut off by a strong squeeze into your waist from both his hands.
“I’m not joking. Give me… maybe, like, an hour and I’ll come get you.”
You scrunch your nose at him and he gives a small nod, his grin spreading wide, before he turns around and finds the people he came in with.
You’re alone. Single, and having drinks in a bar by yourself, which has every opportunity to feel a little sad, but instead you feel giddy. You predicted you’d run into him, and then you did.
Perfect.
You’re a genius.
After last time, you kind of want Joe to think that you are seeing someone. Just to make you feel like you’ve got the upper hand. Not that it matters. You’ve both made the same wrong choice in similar situations before. But, still. You just don’t want him to win.
Joe joins his friends, and he throws a quick glance back to see you smile into your drink as you take a sip.
Yea. Glossy is the right word, he thinks. He could stare at you all evening.
Fuck.
A whack to his shoulder by one of his friends pulls him into a conversation and momentarily, he shifts into the evening he had planned to have.
He forgets about you for a minute, but never entirely.
It’s like there’s a constant little buzz in the back of his head, and he keeps wanting to look over. See what you’re doing. Who you’re talking to. Who’s talking to you.
Joe’s in trouble.
You do things to him that he can’t entirely comprehend, and that no one before or after you has ever really managed. He doesn’t know what to make of that most of the time, except that the feelings he’s got for you are sort of… big. And scary.
You’re still devastatingly gorgeous to him, he can objectively look at you and think, yea she’s fucking hot, but you also manage to make him laugh. Manage to him feel heard and cared for. Manage to make him forget about all current worries life has on offer for him.
And Joe is generally, just, doomed.
Whatever he had with you had worked for a while and then suddenly it hadn’t anymore. You’d suddenly wanted out, but now… it feels a little like you both want to start over. Like you both want to forget about that chapter of bullshit. Pretend it never happened.
And what’s the problem with that?
Is whatever you are doing now a problem? If it works?
If it doesn’t hurt people, Joe thinks there’s no issue.
But he knows it actually does hurt people. It’s another truth he ignores. Tries to, at least.
There’s no denying the gravitation pulling the two of you closer and closer together until eventually you end up a tangled mess. Like a pair of forgotten earphones left in a coat pocket, too annoying to untie, so instead someone will pull at both ends until the earpieces reach both ears, leaving the wire tangled up even tighter as it sits under their chin.
Even though Joe appreciates the poetic beauty he can find in all of that, he knows he’s got to fucking stop hurting people all the time.
He can’t help his feelings.
But he can help how he treats others.
If he is going to choose to let the general ache of a bad week be soothed by the balm of your presence, he can at least have the decency to not let others presume they’re dating him. Because generally, that’s always been his problem. Joe’s vague and avoidant and all about surface level fun – he never defines anything if he can help it, and he lets others think what they please.
It’s easier that way.
For him, at least.
It’s both a shame and a godsend that this is a part of him that you know through and through. That you see. He doesn’t have to try to hide it, because he knows that it’s of no use with you.
And apparently, it’s fine, because here you fucking are, aren’t you?
He remembers when he thought you were just the same, and remembers how he felt so lucky at first.
A perfect match.
He’d learnt over time, you’re actually very much not the same. But! You had at least some of the same tendencies, and you showing up in this particular bar tonight was enough proof of it.
Joe’s in his group of friends, and they’re all chatting and laughing, and this was meant to be a fun night out, but he might as well just leave right now. His mind is with the girl at the other end of the bar, sat on her own, smiling and chatting to whoever had the courage to strike up a conversation.
Yea.
He’s got more problems.
Forget not wanting to define anything with anyone.
Joe also has to stop banking his entire future on the idea that you want him too.
There’s… there’s a lot of things to ignore.
It should foreshadow that the path he’s going down isn’t good. Isn’t the right one. But... it’s so fun and exciting, he kind of has to know where it leads.
He sighs loudly, a frustrated grumble originating from sheer defeat, and he gives the glass he’s holding a glance. He’ll finish this, and then he’ll fetch you and leave.
About fifteen minutes later, he’s got you under his arm and is leading you outside. Asks, “Yours or mine?” because there’s no need to act coy with you.
You answer, “Yours.” a little too quickly for Joe not to raise an eyebrow at.
You’re walking together, and you’re still fixing your scarf, but your steps are too determined. Too rushed for your quick answer not to hide at least some secrets.
“What, you got anything to hide from me?”
“No–”
“Let’s go over to yours. It’s closer.” he challenges without the intent to actually do so, footsteps still carrying him in the direction of his own flat.
“No, I–”
“Or has Jasper left all of his things strewn about?” Joe couldn’t finish the question before having to twist his mouth in a bid to hide his smile.
You stop walking for just a second, and give him a dead pan stare that transitions into an eye-roll before you flatly say, “All right, good night.” and pretend to turn around to leave.
It makes Joe throw his head back in a laugh, both his arms grabbing at you and pulling you close.
“Mine, okay. Mine.”
And you fall back into step, smiling into your scarf at how you just made Joe’s laugh echo down the street.
Feels good to make Joe laugh.
It’s quiet for a bit, just a short few seconds. Just footsteps on the ground amongst the noises of the city. Somehow, it feels like it drags on, like every second lasts a whole minute, and you can’t help filling it with awkward chat. “No,” you start. “Jasper’s put all of his things where they’re supposed to go.” And you give Joe a pointed look after.
He bites immediately.
“Wha– I always put my things where they’re supposed to go!”
He doesn’t.
You know he doesn’t.
He knows you know he doesn’t.
It’s impossible to forget all of the little things that made the rug look all lumpy. You’d always keep things under there for ages, which gave you a lot of time to quietly lift up corners to examine all the mess.
So you snort, and he stutters through beginnings of words he never finishes to find excuses that don’t exist until you’re both laughing.
Then he says, “Here. I’ll put this thing where it’s meant to go.” And you think it’s just about the cheesiest innuendo ever, but then he takes your wrist in his hand and lets his fingers intertwine with yours.
You look up at him with a pursed smile, but Joe’s already looking right ahead, making sure you don’t bump into anything.
You’re lucky it’s cold enough to blame the flush of your cheeks on the cold wind.
You hold hands all the way to Joe’s flat.
It’s nice.
You also talk about Jasper all the way to Joe’s flat.
That’s less nice.
Joe asks what else Jasper does that he allegedly doesn’t. If he lets you keep your heating on. If he lets you sleep closest to the door. Every question comes out with disdain, like this loser doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.
And you answer every question with lies. Paint a very pretty picture.
Jasper doesn’t even fucking exist, but you like that Joe thinks you’re taken. That you’re off the market, and that he shouldn’t be taking you home, but still chooses to. You think maybe he wouldn’t have held your hand if he thought you weren’t already spoken for.
However, it doesn’t feel so nice to remember all the things that ruined your relationship with Joe. He just keeps listing a bunch of shit you’d once yelled at him for, and you don’t think he fully understands how it’s bringing the mood down.
Presumably, you’re meant to think it’s funny, so you smile, but all of it sits wrong in your gut. It leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth that uncomfortably sticks to your tongue and sours your mood a little.
The short-term fun with Joe is meant to be just that. Fun. You don’t want to be reminded of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be going home with him right now. If you did, you’d have taken Emily with you tonight.
You refrain from saying anything, though.
You’re still you, after all.
You just smile and tell Joe that Jasper actually does do all the things that Joe never did, and hope it sparks enough jealousy in him to maybe do something about it.
“Hmm,” Joe says when you turn the corner and his building comes into view. “Jasper sounds... he sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t he?”
He does.
You’ve created the image of a perfect boyfriend. One who you know you’d never actually gel with; you need someone who pushes back a little.
Problem is... Joe knows that too.
Just when the thought crosses your mind that maybe Joe knows you’re making everything up, that you’ve been lying this whole time you’ve been holding hands, Joe confirms your fears.
“Almost too um... almost too good to be true, wouldn’t you say?” he narrows his eyes in suspicion, a smile still playing on his lips.
“Yea, well. Some people are.” you shrug, but know Joe is reading your unsteady body language just fine.
“Sure, sure. Yea. I guess so.” Joe says, and then falls silent.
He knows you’re lying.
Well, fuck.
And then, he lets the silence linger.
Joe doesn’t say anything as he fishes his keys from a pocket and lets you into his building. Doesn’t say anything as he pushes the lift button. Just gives you a little smile, like he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, thinking secret thoughts.
It gets in your hair.
“What?”
“Nothing, it’s... no, it’s nothing.”
Joe lets his small smile turn into a fat smirk and it’s starting to get on your nerves. The lift doors open, and you assertively step inside before Joe can give you a small ladies-first gesture.
Joe watches you press the button to his floor before he shakes his head a little and follows you in.
“What?” you ask again, and to that, Joe finally lets a barking laugh out.
“What?” he mimics, feeding off of the brooding bit of bite he can sense growing underneath your skin.
“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s fucking working.”
“I’m not trying to do anything.” Joe patronises, joy very much still visible in the lines on his cheeks.
He knows you’re single.
He knows there’s no Jasper.
“Hmm.” It’s your turn to narrow eyes at him. “Yea, no. Of course not. You don’t have to try to piss me off, you’re right. You’ve got the skills to auto-pilot your way–”
In a lightning-speed quick move, Joe shuts you up by suddenly getting close enough for you to stumble back against the mirrored panel or the lift. He’s got two hands touching your sides over your coat, firm enough for you to feel them through the thick layers of fabric.
It startles you into silence, and makes you audibly swallow.
You can see from up close how Joe smugly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes roving over you slowly, and, fuck.
Yea.
Yea. Okay.
It shifts.
All of it is shifting.
The annoyance and slight anger transfers into something else.
Into something a little more raunchy.
You feel a sudden rush down your body from the way Joe’s eyes blaze with intention.
Joe knows you. Bit rash of you to forget.
Just before the lift stills and the doors open behind him, Joe lets his body sway forward a bit to press himself up against you entirely. It makes your breath hitch and stutter. Makes you want to grab hold of the large collar of his coat to pull him down enough so you can kiss him.
But then, in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. Pushes himself off, quickly moves away, walks out of the lift, and leaves you there to catch your breath for a second.
Fucking hell.
Oh, tonight is going to be interesting.
You don’t leave the lift until the doors start closing and you have to quickly launch yourself across to get an arm in front of the sensor. Down the hall you see him disappear into his flat, leaving his door open, and you take rushing steps to follow him inside.
You don’t want to waste any more time.
You want to undress right there on his doormat, despite the bitterly cold temperature you’ve just stepped into.
You want find Joe, who you can hear is already opening and closing cupboards in his kitchen, and just... you don’t know. Jump him, you guess.
That lift moment has made you want to devour him. Made you want to be devoured by him.
But then you close his door and step into his kitchen, and find him at the counter. He’s got his back turned, and is super calmly pouring two glasses of wine.
No urgency.
Zero haste.
He knows what he’s just done to you. Knows the effect that likely must have had. He’s toying with you. Fucking playing.
You drop your coat where you’re standing, right onto the floor. Toe your shoes off to make a pile. You cross your arms and grab hold of the bottom of your top, ready to pull that over your head next, but you pause to watch Joe’s shoulders move under his shirt as he carefully twists and pushes the cork back onto the bottle to seal it.
When he turns around, he leans against the counter, one hand on the edge of it, and in the other he’s holding a nice fat glass of red.
Glass.
One glass.
For a moment you just assume that there’s another hiding behind his back, though it doesn’t even fully register.
You make eye-contact as he takes a slow sip of his drink, and then you slowly pull your top off. It reveals a lacy bra you’re convinced Joe likes the look of.
And you’re right.
Joe halts, and openly stares. Mouth in his wine. Hypnotised. Frozen on the spot. Mind slowly turning to mush.
He’s predictable like that.
Men in general are easy like that.
You take a deep breath, inflating your whole chest, and Joe groans at the sight. The glass of wine gets put back down behind him, and you don’t even think he has taken real sip. Then he takes a few steps to pull a chair from his table.
He holds a hand up that means, one second, and pulls at the fabric of his trousers to give himself a bit more space before he sits down. He shifts a little, settles in, and then leans back with his legs spread wide, both hands behind his head, fingers folded and elbows sticking out.
He takes a deep breath before he gives a small nod that says, carry on.
You bite your teeth into your bottom lip as you smile, because Joe is an idiot, and you let your hands find the button to your trousers to take off next.
Then, suddenly, it lands.
There’s one single glass of wine on the counter.
One.
You stop your movements as you look at it and watch the red liquid inside softly swirl from when Joe put it down.
It takes a second for Joe to follow your gaze, and for him to understand what you’re looking at.
He frowns in confusion a little, looks back at you to see that you’re still staring, and then looks back again, and–
“Oh...”
Your expression has gone cold.
And Joe thinks that maybe he gets it. He isn’t entirely sure, but he’s smart enough to know that the show he had just settled in for is probably going to get cancelled if he doesn’t do anything.
“Did you...”
But he’s not sure what to say. Doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. When you start moving, he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to.
It’s crazy how this feels like it used to feel, before.
But, it’s a little different now, because… there’s nothing at stake. There’s no you to protect. No you two as a couple to preserve.
That stupid single glass of red wine.
You fucking hate it.
And you know it’s sick, you know that you’re not meant to enjoy this, but the feeling of rage bubbling up within you honestly feels kind of good. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to experience full-body resentment, and have the immediate source of it right there to take it out on.
You want to feel this dark, sticky displeasure.
Feels fucking good.
Joe’s been reminding you of what a shit boyfriend he was to you, which was meant to be ha-ha funny. Joe thought enough time had passed. You had gone from no-contact to two people that bickered for a bit, and then would end up in bed together. It had happened twice already, and you had all the right ingredients to keep this going. The recipe had proven itself delicious, and Joe thought he could just... serve the same meal again.
It’s self-destructive, you know it is, but… you are hungry for it too.
You take a few slow steps and walk over to look at this glass of wine more closely. Joe watches you from his seat, entirely unsure of what to do, and then, without warning, you slowly push the whole thing into the sink.
Red splashes everywhere, and the glass clatters loudly, but it doesn’t break.
Next, you take the bottle into your hands. Look at the label for a moment. Pretend to read it. It’s still pretty full.
Too bad, you think. Such a waste.
You remove the cork, turn around to look Joe directly in the eye, and then tip that over as well. The whole sink colours blood read as you drain the whole thing, and all Joe can do is watch on from his seat.
He doesn’t stop you.
Doesn’t say anything.
Just watches you and feels the energy of the room build.
He’d forgotten how things always build with you.
You’re quite the sight, face reading thunder, standing in his kitchen in your bra, breath deepening with every second that passes.
Joe hates what it does to him inside of his trousers.
When the bottle empties, wine clattering in the sink, Joe sees your face change. Something more… calm seemingly overcomes you. You look... pleased.
“Does that feel justified?” Joe asks, eyes blinking at you.
“Fuck you. Yes it does.”
“Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”
You don’t give a shit how expensive that was, but just because you know Joe does, you want to know.
“Tell me.”
Joe scans your body all the way down and then all the way back up.
“Come here.” Joe holds an arm out and reaches for you.
“Shut up. Tell me.” You’re already making your way over.
“That’s a class A premier grand cru...”
You take Joe’s hand and let him pull you to sit on his lap. To straddle him, thighs spread wide, one leg over each one of his.
“That was a class A premier grand cru.” the words mean nothing to you, you know fuck all about wine, but there’s something glorious about correcting Joe.
“Hmm.” Joe hums as his nose nudges yours, and he lets both hands slide up your thighs until he finds the bits he likes holding most. He uses his grip to pull you in closer and continues, “A blend of merlot, and cabernet franc...” Joe’s French accent is awful. “An award-winning Château Angélus from... from 2016, I think...”
That’s fairly recent, you think. Can’t be that expens–
“Cost me over 500 quid.”
Your eyes darken.
Good.
You wouldn’t pay much more than a tenner for a bottle of the same size.
“Should’ve poured me a glass.”
And it’s only then that the penny drops. That he gets it. You can see it in his eyes. The flush of memories suddenly making it to the forefront of his brain.
The silent treatment.
The coffees he didn’t make you.
The wine he eventually did pour for you.
That one glass of red that temporarily had fixed everything.
Shit.
Joe grimaces. Groans. Squeezes his eyes shut. Feels like an idiot.
“Should’ve poured you a–”
You kiss Joe.
Hard.
Breathe him in, and move in enough for it to almost make the chair tip backwards. You’ve got both your arms around his neck, hips moving over Joe’s lap in a desperate grind, all needy and in search of feeling something.
Fire.
You want to feel the fire.
Momentarily, you think it’s working. That something is catching aflame. You can feel how Joe spreads his legs even wider, bucking his hips upward as he presses himself into you.
Joe is straining in his trousers, and he groans as you figure out the right rhythm to make it feel good with every hip roll, with every back and forth.
You break the kiss to let a moan escape you, head dropping back, and Joe’s mouth finds the skin of your neck to taste. His teeth graze before he kisses as you fiercely move against each other. Louder noises escape you when Joe lets a hand curl around and grab you by the back of your neck.
“Yea? That feel nice?” he pants, and all you can do is bob your head in a barely there nod as you keep moving.
It does feel nice.
Feels really nice.
Not exactly fire, though. You’re both in trousers, fabric rubbing together furiously, dry humping each other like a pair of horny teenagers who haven’t passed third base yet.
So, not fire, but nice none the less.
In contrast, there’s a lot of things Joe’s feeling, and he kind of wants you to know about all of them. Needs to speak them into the air in order to fully process what’s happening inside of his brain.
“Did you know I um… I broke everything off, the next day?” Joe starts, and stops to curse under his breath. “Fuck. Yea, keep going. Shit. Ah... A-after you left, I mean, remember? I had a lot of m-missed calls, so I called her back, and I–”
You shut Joe up with a kiss.
Try to at least.
“We could–” Joe starts again after turning his head and pushing you aside with his nose, both hands spread wide over your thighs as he helps you move over his lap. “Remember, how we really were something?”
You squeeze your eyes shut. Try to focus on the feelings inside of your body instead of on the words you don’t want to hear.
“We could be something still.”
“N-no.”
You refuse to acknowledge what Joe’s trying to tell you, but don’t stop your movements. You can’t stop, head dropping back. This all feels too good.
It’s still not fire, though.
There’s no stakes.
You’re both single, and every decision you have made this evening turns out to have been inconsequential.
It’s... it’s almost boring.
But it’s good enough.
You just need a couple more seconds, you can feel it building already.
“We c-couldn’t be somethinhgh...” you choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence.
“Yes,” Joe insists, voice low and breathy, your bodies still moving in tandem. He then uses one hand takes hold of your face by your cheeks, tilting your head down so he can make eye-contact with you for a second.
“Yes we could.” He sounds hopeful as his eyes search yours. “Don’t you get it?”
But your eyes are glassy. They flutter and want to roll back.
Joe knows this look.
Know what this means.
And it’s not like Joe thinks his kind words will really fix anything, but, maybe they will, you know? Maybe. He’s glad he has said them anyway, even though you look like you haven’t even properly heard him.
“You close, baby?”
He switches gears.
“Yea? Come on.” He helps you move with strong arms that press you down a little more, and your arms scramble behind his back in your want to hold onto him tightly.
“There you go.” he coos into your ear, and, it’s not fire, but you come anyway.
Joe should have poured you a glass of wine.
Shouldn’t have brought up bad memories, shouldn’t have tried to be funny about it, and absolutely should have simply gone and poured you a glass.
You pretend that a glass of wine would’ve made a difference tonight.
The difference that you had hoped to find.
That would’ve lit the fire.
Deep down you know that’s not it, but still. The empty bottle is right there, watching you come down from your high, Joe still hard beneath you, and it’s easy to use that as the excuse.
You decide on the spot that Joe’s going to have to deal with what resides inside of his underwear by himself.
You’re done.
Sitting up, you look him in the eye for a short moment and softly but definitively say, “Should’ve poured me a glass.” and press a small kiss to his cheek which Joe gladly accepts.
Because he knows you’re right.
“Should’ve poured you a glass.”
---
The Taglisted
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add yourself
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starlitprism · 2 days ago
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"That's a Major": My Marcille Degree Rant
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OK we're starting with this. Funny right? Yeah.
BUT IT GOT ME THINKING
You know what no one brings up in that story? NO ONE?!
This is just a major. This is a MAJOR! YOU CAN DO IT AT HER ALMA MATER.
It is not HER FAULT that this was available. She went in, saw something interesting and went "COOL" because IT'S A MAJOR. Because apparently this CODIFIED FORM OF STUDY is also just something the elves hate. NOW, it honestly seems to surprise all the characters that this was a MAJOR she could choose but let's be honest here. This is just a reverse of the meme where experts greatly overestimate how much the average person knows about their craft. Of course they don't know. The only one that WOULD know in the story is the impetus for the whole FUCKING PLOT.
She who probably would respond by "yeah I know. That's on the curriculum. I took an intro class" BUT NO. We don't get that because she's too busy being dead or other weird shit partially thanks to that same set of courses. Like, you will notice everyone is super surprised when they bring her back but NOT HER. SHE KNEW. Everyone else is like "look at this unholy abomination" when it's just like a history degree. Seriously though, Falin seems a little surprised and disoriented at first but otherwise seems utterly unfazed at waking up in a blood circle surrounded by a dead dragon's innards.
THAT SAID, I am exaggerating for comedy. Here is what we actually know. In the very next scene in the hot tub, she does note that there was something about the circle that felt wrong to her. So maybe she didn't know her shit about this. Or, maybe she only knew about it academically as related to what Marcille studied and never seen or experienced it in any way. That or somehow Marcille managed to keep a secret from the woman she very obviously adores with her literal everything which I... doubt. Then again, she is Laios' sister so who knows if she carries the same level of general obliviousness (I am also autistic like Laios is so I can just state that outright. We can be fucking OBLIVIOUS at times).
It also goes to show, the elves are idiots. They are so certain that this is so unknown that they have to hunt individuals while there is some professor(s) somewhere just... teaching it. Or at least something related! For, like, a day job! And they never even think to ask "where are all these people learning this" NO. THEY DON'T. THIS IS GONNA KEEP HAPPENING. BECAUSE IT'S JUST AVAILABLE. AND THEY, in their hubris, can't imagine ANYONE EVER having this information BUT THEM. It could just be freely available and everyone knows not to talk about it because the elves got a SPIKE in their collective ass!
Ok, you ask, "but what if it was a secret?" and you know what? Fair. To that I have to say https://tenor.com/view/marcille-best-girl-failure-tantrum-breakdancing-dungeon-meshi-delicious-in-dungeon-gif-7429268588073434370
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(The above is a picture and link to a gif of Marcille on her head, kicking her legs wildly because this girl doesn't react normally ever to anything) This. This is Marcille when something happens. She's not subtle. She has never been subtle. She commonly screams her reactions. I call bullshit on secret.
More importantly though, that's not really how education tends to work. People study something and, outside of MAYBE grad school level or PhD level minimum, you largely talk with people who know your subject.
You gotta remember, education is a bunch of nerds who want to talk about their shit. People don't just research something to know it. They research it to publish it and have it peer reviewed even if it's just an assignment they turn into their professor which I guess is like a first step to publishing.
Research is gathered, references found, pointed to, and then showed off. AND IN THE CASE OF PRACTICAL STUDIES, people do it! You got to prove your research was right. Otherwise it's a bunch of potentially useless theory. So if you think Marcille hasn't done SOMETHING like this before, there's no way. She was confident she could do SOMETHING about it. Just saying, I would pay a lot to see the face's on the member of her dissertation committee.
I brought this up with some friends and they mentioned that she might have just studied Dungeon creation and studied Ancient Magic on her own. And fair but then Ancient Magic wouldn't be her specialty would it? At least, except in a very egotistical self estimated way without ANY outside feedback which is a core tenet of education. Unless she was the pre-eminent lone scholar of ancient magic of course but she never goes on about that so i'm going assume that's not the case. Here is what we got from the show
In the show she says "What I specialize in is actually ancient magic which is highly forbidden. It's use is frowned upon but using it to revive Fallin, it's our best option"
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When Senshi and Chilchuck, protested she just says "magic doesnt' have morality"
Now I could be wrong but for this wonderfully high-strung woman whose reactions are so so much, this looks practiced and calm. She either has defended this before, was quoting something someone else (like a teacher), or somehow she has suppressed all her beautiful exaggerated weirndess in the midst of ABSURD amounts of stress. Personally, I think Option 2 and 1 are more likely as this is a highly emotional subject for her and her self control is shit.
Like seriously, let's say her alma mater doesn't have a class that teaches ancient magic. Let's say, no one but her knows much of anything. What would happen if someone caught her in the library grabbing strange books that have scraps of ancient magic knowledge in them? She's allowed to be there but she's just so... HER that she would probably jump in surprise and try and justify it while trying NOT to reveal what she is researching. And because she has all the cool of a pickle, EVERYONE in school would know Marcille was up to something.
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The above is a picture of Marcille losing her shit from a video titled "Marcille gradually losing her mind for 6 minutes || Dungeon Meshi. The link to it is https://youtu.be/gmY2x8_nnjw
So yeah, there would be rumors. The worst kept secret in the school is Marcille is a bad girl who researches something questionable. To say nothing of the fact that this girl has demonstrated major teacher's pet energy. I would put my money on there being at least one professor there who gets occasional downloads of ancient magic from one of their top students all while they look on going "I can tell no one" unless of course there is an actual program.
FOR MY FINAL POINT I HAVE BUT ONE WORD TO GIVE. Internet
By which I mean, the lack of it. Do you have any idea how hard it is to research something based only on the physical books you have access to in a specific location? IT TAKES AWHILE TO GET ANYWHERE.
That means travel for you or your subject matter and, with something like THIS that could be considered dangerous, you would have to be SO damn careful to make sure you don't get a reputation as "the ancient magic girl." That said, she's a (warning, spoilers) half elf so she has time. SO MUCH TIME. But we know it hasn't been too much time because Falin attended at the same time as her. Falin and her brother did various (failed) things for several years before Marcille showed up at the dungeon. I, at least, don't know how much time passed but they both clearly look to be in their 20s or so to me. Could be wrong due to the art style but that's just my read. At most, SUPER low 30s. Which means, Marcille couldn't have been traveling everywhere taking months and months to cross seas to get specific books for that long. That time would get eaten up so very quickly.
WHICH LEADS US back to the start. And my claim that the simplest most likely explanation IS
This Is
A Major
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puppyeared · 11 months ago
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How do you do fellow human?
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if i answered this 2 weeks ago i would have said i want a quick and easy death <- currently on school break
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perilegs · 3 months ago
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my sweet little baby man is no longer with us
#he had his bloodwork done yesterday and the vet said it was fine but he doesnt have much time left#and my bestie is a vet tech who wanted to see the lab results bc she always does and she looked at them#and asked me if she can shiw them to her boss today and i was like sure and immediately knew something was up#today keekki was being himself#then i went to run some errands and when i came back he was laying in front of the front door with his tiny baby head against it#and i was like ''oh ok one of his seizures?''#and theyre like. keekki will drool and not move and they usually last for like 20 minutes (several vets have no idea whats up with those#but it was probably either a kidney or a blood pressure thing)#anyways. it did not pass in 20 minutes so i Knew#i laid on the floor next to him#then my bff sent me a message asking me if i have the time to talk about keekki and its not good news#at this point i was about to call the vet anyways#and she was like ''ok i showed these to my boss (a vet) and she got super angry that ur vet even let you leave the clinic''#bc apparently keekkis bloodwork was so bad he should have been put down then and there but my vet was like a fresh half graduate#so i dont hold it against her. anyways i got an euthanasia appointment for this evening and spent the time before it laying on the couch#crying with keekki in my arms#i had to carry him bc he couldnt really walk without stumbling and falling down#when i had to get up to get his carrier and stuff ready he was taking a nap on the couch where i left him and i took this pic#anyways worst vet visit of my life i could hardly even do anything but nod half the time bc speaking results in me sobbing#anyways. this fucking sucks#i dont know how ill be able to sleep tonight#its been years since i last slept at home without having a little guy plop into my arms#i spent a long time with him in the vet room when he was gone#it feels surreal ive given him his last ever forehead kisses#as i left the room i told him bye the exact same way ive been saying bye to him for the last very many years ive had him#its always moikka keekki before i go to work or the store or literally anything#and that was my last moikka keekki#i hope he felt how loved he was#my dad is sending me older pics of me and keekki and he looks so happy in them. hes always right next to me#idk man im going to stop rambling now
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moeblob · 7 months ago
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What Deacon thinks: what did that mean? did he want me to wear a collar too? why else would he mention my neck? i mean, if he /asked/ me i would wear one but he didn't so would wearing one be weird?
What Ymber meant: It's nice to be near someone who isn't tethered to this world to serve it with a physical reminder for all to see.
#my characters#this just in ! thats why all the deities in the plot have collars and a chain !#its because THATS THEIR DESIGNATED I AM HERE TO HELP THIS WORLD SYMBOL#they cant remove their collars and thats fine by them - its a constant reminder that they exist to serve#deacon really shouldnt get as much crap as he gets in canon for being weird cause the deities are just a different brand of weird#like its not deacons fault that apparently you can say nice neck with no underlying desire#but he cant say hi would you please possess me i want to know what its like to have someone else in my body#like thats really not something you should pin on deacon YET EVERY deity is like wow what a lil weirdo#he also just really wants to please ymber so if ymber asked he would definitely do whatever#on the flip side i need to point out that deacon very specifically doesnt ask ymber for things nor does he pray for things#and it drives ymber up a wall because this is his favorite human who wont ask for anything and he isnt a psychic#he doesnt know what deacon wants or needs and its infuriating cause he exists to serve humanity#and yet this ONE GUY wont let him do things for him#this is very important and i cant believe i mentioned it like a month ago to someone and today#i received gift art of these two and i may never recover#its so perfect and its ymber just looming over deacon telling him that he can pray about anything to him#its also worth pointing out that when i was telling the person about the whole ymber begging for a prayer#its because he realizes that after all this time hes never had a single prayer from deacon - not before nor after the hire#so hes like oh well thats odd hmm#and then begins to talk to deacon like you know people pray to me for lots of things#and deacon looks at him unsure of what this is leading to - did someone offer a weird prayer? ask a weird thing? whatst?#and no - its just ymber saying that people will pray for wealth or an item#or they will express frustration if something is lost or broken despite it not being ymbers fault so deacon just stares#he has no idea what this is going to end on really so he points out 'well you do like to think you break people'#and ymber just ASDFASDFSADF STOP OK NEXT POINT people pray to me to bless relationships with happiness#and thats fascinating so deacon is like wow can you actually do that?#and ymber is so stressed as hes like i mean kinda i can simply amplify the positive emotions in gestures#like if someone gives an item out of love then its blessed#he also admits that he cant mask insincerity or malice so those feelings are not hidden nor amplified#and deacon just is impressed bc that is actually VERY cool
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turtlespancake · 4 months ago
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me when i write a character who is prone to dooming themself and then they run off and doom themself. core traits are stubbornness and a willingness to disregard their own humanity gET BACK HERE IM NOT DONE WITH YOU
#rambling#surprisingly this is not about jakob.. im just really consistent about my favorite character archetypes 😭😭#WARNING THE NOTES ON THIS ARE REALLY LONG I STARTED RAMBLING#“ouhh i have a headache i'll just lie down and rotate my blorbos in no general direction for a while until it goes away” and then boom.#serious plot considerations. 2 questions answered 24million new questions raised. this is specifically Not what i asked for.#so now im sitting here STILL dizzy running mental calculations on how i can get this bitch out of peril without reworking everything#but they literally keep dying in every timeline 😭😭 every single plausible road leads to them running off and screwing themself over#“character who doesn't realize they want to live until it's way too late to look back” VS#“character who is forced to live and handle the things they never though they'd survive long enough to deal with” FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT.#fucking hell i have never had this much trouble writing a character as i have with them#they genuinely do just run off and do shit without my permission and then i have to pace for an hour or two wondering#“ok they wOULD do that. but should they. do i feel like i can confidently write that.”#im like constantly in this tug of war trying to get them to CHILL#but also they are absolutely my favorite character from the entire project. but like. FUCK GET BACK HERE#is death the most satisfying end to this arc? is someone who was Set on dying then NOT dying the most satisfying end to the arc?#how many bridges can you burn until you irreparably set yourself aflame too?#would ghost or revival plotline work?? would it make sense with the worldbuilding??#do i just Like Them enough to want them to not die?? where do i draw the line between personal bias and a good arc?#is death not feeling as impactful as survival solely because i've been writing for so long that it's lost the initial impact?#and other such plot considerations...#im gonna have such an easy time writing another character though 😭😭 because THAT character's dynamic in the second act#is to stare at character 1 and be like “why are you like this. i mean i know Why but can you chill. please.” and like damn bro me too#actually wait no i think kaey.a is the hardest character i've ever written i take it back#had to worry about his 20million facades AND his Actual feelings AND canon compliance. shit is hard#i still havent finished the k/aeya fic i started back when the chasm first released which is uhh. two years ago. oops.#i think i struggle writing emotionally repressed liars i think thats what this is 😭😭 anyways.#(voice of guy who has been obsessed with nonlinear narratives and tragedies for several years):#“is it too much to kill this character in a nonlinear exploration game with tragic elements”#like bitch what are you talking about 😭😭 YOU'RE the target audience here figure it out#sorry the notes on this are just my writing journal now apparently
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britneyshakespeare · 4 days ago
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Yesterday at the high school I was in for this art teacher and they all had like projects they were gonna present to work on in Google classroom, so like many days as a substitute teacher it was quiet and I mostly just sat at the desk and read. But then this one kid in my peripheral vision was looking at me and when I glanced over her laughed a little. And I looked away cuz I was like whatever maybe he was whispering smth w his friends.
But then he says "I have a question"
"Yeah?"
"What two colors make purple?"
"Oh. Red and blue"
"Thank you... I appreciate the no judgment answer"
I didn't even think about it lol
#when youve been asked enough silly questions you just accept all of them#tales from diana#and this class in particular was not an intro class which. makes it a little extra funny#i told him ive heard sillier questions and he said 'like what?' and i was just like... oh idk but i used to work prek#i guess i am such a no judgment person that it didn't even register to me hed worry abt me laughing at him#u just forgot kid! its ok it happens to the best of us#there was also another interaction i had at the end of the day which was kinda weird#the last like 10 minutes. there was this kid in the front of the room like#apparently he was dancing and i guess i turned my head like toward the whiteboard for one sec#bc i was thinking abt erasing it. which was right next to him#and he was like 'she totally saw me bust that move' to his friends#i didn't know if they meant me or they were talking abt some other student. but fwiw i totally was not looking at him lol#but five minutes later i go up to erase the board#and the kid is still standing there and he's like 'what was your name again?' (it was literally on the board still. kids dont read)#'miss -----' 'oh. it was nice to meet you' and i was kinda like uh the fuck lol#i can't stress enough i dont 'meet' most of these high school students i just take attendance#i didn't say a word to any kids this class unless they asked to go to the bathroom#but i was like. uhm. 'nice meeting you too' like wtf?#'nice being here at my job where i oversee dozens of interchangeable students everyday'#ive always said i can usually tell when students have a crush on me. but that really applies to like. k-8#bc of how little i really get to work w high schoolers it's not like i can just read their minds#even if im a 'pretty substitute' to them i dont know that and they dont talk to me and i dont care#it's definitely weirder to have a teenager talk to u like ur a cute girl or smth. bc they don't do it in the earnest way of younger kids#not that that was like an offensive interaction it was just completely unexpected and awkward lol
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killjoy-prince · 2 months ago
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I now know the context for the 'Doctor... you're huge' line
#prince's gaming tag#hi can i ramble for a bit? bc im losing my mind and i didnt screenshot that scene bc i was too focused on what was happening#so like i got to control both characters in this pic for a bit mainly aventurine and he was summoned by Sunday for a negotiation#or so we thought but Sunday wanted to know what his plans were and casted Harmony on him#and then asked him some questions where if he lied there would be dire consequences#and that whole fucking scene had me TENSE like holy shit#and then it was revealed aventurine was lying and it turns out Sunday knew this bc Ratio ratted him out!!!#so it wasnt an negotiation or an interrogation but an execution like aventurine said#so now unless he does what sunday wants hes gonna die in 17 system hours#and like. holy fucking shit. holy shit!!!!#like ok im still kinda confused about the lore of the game and what actually the aeons are and the factions and all that#like theyll say some unfamiliar word and therell be a word above it like its explaining what that word means#but its just another in universe word so im still confused#but with this interrogation scene i got enough of what was going on to get the high stakes#and im just like AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA rn in my head bc what the fuuuuuuuuck#now i wonder if this is gonna be why he becomes a boss fight for us#oh also i was right. when aventurine is serious his voice isnt as grating to me so its only when he's forcing his facade that i cant take i#but this interrogation scene was really fucking good#anyway i finished aventurine's pov and im back to trailblazer's pov. I get to see Topaz!!#who i havent met before but apparently the crew has. i guess i didnt do the mission where she was introduced oops#but i hadnt heard her voice before so i thought it was higher pitched and was very glad to hear it wasnt#oh and i gotta pull for aventurine when he comes back bc i need someone who can cast shield on everyone and hes the man for it#the only preservation character i have is march and caelus if i choose that path but i need him on another one rn so march is the main one#but she can only put up one shield at a time which is not enough as the fights get harder
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luins · 5 months ago
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tagged by @milesnowaks - thank you!!
rules: shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist and post the first ten tracks, then tag ten people
Blood Upon the Snow - Hozier, Bear McCreary
Too Sweet - Hozier
Guard Down - August Moon
Down Bad - Taylor Swift
Good Luck, Babe! - Chappell Roan
HOT TO HO! - Chappell Roan
OMG - Suki Waterhouse
Nancy Mulligan - Ed Sheeran
Stick Season - Noah Kahan
Rock Me - One Direction
i have no idea who to tag it's been forever since i did something like this so uhhh @birussianspy @emotargaryen and whoever wants to do this <3
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frobby · 6 months ago
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boy son and girl daughter are the only characters who matter in kaiju no.8
#yall think im joking but im not#can i complain for a second?#i think kaiju no. 8 is one of the most clear examples of shounen degredation that ive seen in something that hasnt been axed#ok so im caught up but i havent read the spinoff and like#who even are these character?#what do we know about kafka other than his motivations????#uhh hes middle aged and ummmm hes childhood friends with mina.......... uhhhhh hes nice?#yall its been 100 chapters#that extends to literally every character#boy son( reno) what do we know about him#we know his sad backstory but like we dont even know what he was doing prior to taking the exam#girl daughter (kikoru) we know more about but shes got other story problems#but i still dont think i could list anything other than her involvement with kaijus#it just feels like we've went from big action to big action and it feels hollow cuz i barely know these people#and i get it maybe we learn more about them from the spinoff#but i shouldnt have to read a spinoff.... to know the main character#after 100 chapters#and its really not even the authors fault#the character interactions we get? ARE GOOD#its just so apparent that this is what happens when you have to always be amping up the action to not get cancelled#we're losing so much#if you asked me who my favorite character was and what about them i liked i dont think i would be able to honestly answer#and thats sad#kaiju no. 8#sorry this is a really complainy post i just i really wanted to like this manga#and its not even bad its just disapointing#on a brighter note after binging the whole thing in like a day i had a dream set in the universe#and it was like kafka and mina's relationship but instead of childhood friends it was 2 guys who were actually married#so it gave me that at least
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inferno-silentdragon · 2 years ago
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Castlepoint Anime con 2023 had a lot of OMORI cosplayers and man was it a blast to play songs for them on the keytar!
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opens-up-4-nobody · 2 years ago
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#i was supposed to spend the last 2 days prepping and relaxing for the start of this big project tomorrow#but ive spent thr last 2 days frantically coding as fast as i could and focusing v hard to get a lot of bullshit done#and ive fixed things since yesterday. the changes i had to make were too too bad bc the thing that went wrong was so fucking weird#but it should be okay by tomorrow. knock on wood. but this does mean ive done fuck all to prep for tomorrow#so we r winging it bby. ugh. just gotta fucking pray that everything goes ok. pls let nothing b broken and let everything seal properly 🙏#i was also supposed to meet with my boss today. probably for her to make sure i dont fuck up this project but apparently their safety hood#was having an emergency... whatever that means. so im sure shes having a week as well. and im free to fuck everything up for everyone#ugh. im so. theres a certain point in burning out where youre not really in pain anymore. you dont really feel anything all your joy and#hope dissolves away and u just exist to be useful. and i feel like its easier to maintain that than trying to b happy#i do not advise that bc its a fucking miserable. wasteful way to live but i dont really have time to try for anything better#god. i really hope my measurements friday dont take a full 8hrs. i dont know if i can handle that. literally i would have stay intensely#focused with my brain being Interrupted every 5min so i can manually record data points. its gonna b agony#so that fun. but maybe it wont. maybe itll be great and fun and ill have a wonderful time. seems unlikely but ya never kno#lets not think abt the fact that having to rush all this is preventing me from being able to do all thr other bullshit i need to get done#to prepare for the future. future? what future? hard to imagine from the bottom of this pit im digging myself#sigh. in a few months i can leave this place and never come back. soon but not soon enough#lol i was literally crying listening to cold play earlier bc idk thats the type of music my parents would put on at parties in summertime#so it evokes a v specific mood. which is i guess me hiding away from ppl at parties haha#back when i didnt have to worry abt things so much and i could just listen to the frogs chirping and watch the fireflies#oh god. now my boss is asking if i reached out for help tomorrow. no. lady i would rather drink bleach than have to direct an undergrad#tomorrow. its 10pm im fucking tired. just let me be sad. did i reach our for help? no my brain is on fire#tomorrow is gonna b a long day ugh#unrelated
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tardis--dreams · 1 year ago
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I applaud the online shop who managed to completely mess up the vans size system and delivering me a size 39 instead of my 40.5 which i ordered ♡
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sufficientlylargen · 4 months ago
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It always gets me that the name "Gandalf" literally just means "Wand-Elf" or "Stick-Elf". I'm imagining old Gondorians just being like:
Librarian: I saw that weird guy at the library again today.
Guard 1: What weird guy?
Librarian: The old guy with the beard? Kinda elfy-looking, apart from the beard?
Guard 1: Oh, with the big-ass stick?
Librarian: Yeah, looked like he was carrying an entire tree branch.
Guard 2: Yeah, that's the Stick Elf.
Guard 1: Hell yeah, I fuckin' love the Stick Elf.
Librarian: The "Stick Elf"?
Guard 2: He comes by every few years, usually after some weird book or other.
Librarian: Oh. Yeah, he wanted a treatise on goblin breeding habits.
Guard 2: Like, how they have sex? We have books on that?
Librarian: Yeah, turns out we do. I was as surprised as you are.
Guard 1: What'd the Stick Elf need a fuckin' goblin-fuckin' book for?
Librarian: I didn't ask. So you just call him "Stick Elf"?
Guard 2: I mean, he looks kinda elfy and he always has that stick, so, like, yeah.
Guard 1: Dude also has some fuckin' dope pipeweed.
Guard 2: Oh yeah, his pipeweed is awesome.
Librarian: How long has he been coming here?
Guard 2: Oh, for decades. He's, like, super old.
Guard 1: More like fuckin' centuries. Dude's old as balls.
Guard 2: Wait, really?
Guard 1: Yeah, my gran-gran used to talk about him. She loved his pipeweed too.
Librarian: So he's… an immortal pipeweed dealer?
Guard 2: I think he's just, like, a connoisseur. He doesn't sell it or anything. He just always has some really top-notch pipeweed on him.
Archivist: Oh, are we talking about Stick Elf?
Guard 1: Hell yeah we are!
Librarian: You know about the Stick Elf, too?
Archivist: Oh, totally. Stick-Elf's a super chill dude. Gave me some awesome pipeweed when I was maybe 12, and tee-bee-aitch I think I'm still a little buzzed from it.
Guard 1: What'd I tell ya, fuckin' dope pipeweed!
Archivist: Also he's really old.
Guard 1: Old as balls.
Librarian: Yeah, so Éodan and Jenniforomir were telling me.
Archivist: My grandpa used to tell me stories - he said one time he saw Stick Elf enter a smoke-ring contest.
Guard 1: Ooh, I'll bet he kicked fuckin' ass.
Archivist: Apparently the guy made an entire warship out of smoke and it flew around shooting down the other rings.
Librarian: And how much of this "fuckin' dope" pipeweed had your grandfather had by this point?
Guard 1: No no, that's totally plausible. Dude's got weird elf powers and shit for sure.
Archivist: He brought fireworks for the king's birthday one year, too.
Guard 1: Oh fuck, I forgot about those! Fuckin' incredible fireworks! Dragons and knights and glowy trees and shit! I was fuckin' 6 years old or something, they totally blew my mind. Hey Éodan, did you see that shit?
Guard 2: No, I think that's before I lived in Gondor.
Guard 1: Wait, you're not from here?
Guard 2: Oh, no, I grew up in Rohan. We moved here when I was, like, thirteen because my uncle Éojeff said he could get my dad a sweet job. And also that there were houses that didn't smell like horseshit.
Guard 1: Oh shit, are you related to Éojeff and Éosteve who run that æbleskiver stand on Norndîl St?
Guard 2: Yeah, they're my uncles!
Guard 1: Shit, they cook a fuckin' great æbleskiver!
Librarian: Ok, hold up a sec, "Stick Elf" can't possibly be his real name.
Guard 1: Why not?
Librarian: What? You think his parents named him in the hopes that he would carry around a fucking tree when he got older?
Guard 2: Maybe they gave him the tree when he was born!
Archivist: I don't think a baby could carry that stick.
Guard 1: You ever seen a baby hanging onto something? They're hella strong.
Archivist: It's not a strength thing, their hands are tiny. That staff is enormous!
Guard 1: My halberd's bigger 'n I am, I can hold it just fine.
Archivist: You're not a baby.
Librarian: Also why would elf parents name their kid "stick ELF"?! Presumably they know that their kid's going to be an elf!
Archivist: Is he actually an elf? I didn't think they grew beards.
Guard 1: How'd he get old as balls if he's not an elf?
Guard 2: His ears aren't that pointy. Maybe he's just a really old guy? Like, a Numémoriam or something?
Guard 1: Did you just say "Numémoriam"?
Guard 2: Nûnenorman? Munimõrbitan? Y'know, those guys like the king that can get super old.
Guard 1: You mean the fuckin' Númenóreans?
Guard 2: Yeah, the Númenóreums.
Archivist: Even the Númenóreans don't live THAT long.
Guard 1: Plus he carries that fuckin' stick around.
Guard 2: Wait, what does the stick have to do with it?
Guard 1: That's an elf thing. Y'know, trees and shit? Very elfy.
Librarian: Ok, look, but his parents naming him "Stick Elf" would be weird whether or not he's an elf. In fact, it's even weirder if he's not - what human names their kid "elf"?
Archivist: Huh. Yeah, you're right, he probably does have another name.
Guard 2: Yeah, I guess so.
Librarian: He's been coming here for decades and nobody's ever asked his real name?
Archivist: I dunno what to tell you, he's Stick Elf. Even his library card just says 'Stick Elf'.
Guard 1: Fuck yeah, the Stick Elf!
Guard 2: Maybe we could, like, ask him his name sometime?
Guard 1: Hey, look, Elrond's over there. He's old as balls too, maybe he knows?
Guard 2: Oh, we shouldn't interru-
Guard 1: HEY ELROND, YOU'RE OLD AS BALLS, RIGHT? WHAT'S THAT OLD ELF WITH THE STICK'S NAME?
Elrond (coming over): Do you mean an old man cloaked all in grey and blue, leaning on a rough-cut staff, who came to the great library this day?
Guard 1: Yeah, the Stick-Elf!
Guard 2: (Sorry to bother you, sir...)
Librarian: He's got to have a real name besides 'the Stick Elf', right?
Elrond: Indeed, for no elf is he. You speak of the wizard Olórin, wisest of the Maiar, older even than Eä itself. Many are his names in many countries: Tharkûn among the Dwarves; Incánus to the south; Mithrandir he is called among my people, the Grey Pilgrim.
Librarian: Oh.
Elrond: And here in the North he is called Stick-Elf.
Librarian: Oh.
Guard 1: Fuck yeah!
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love it when my mom just gets mad at me for nothing
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