talkingllamaalecandseregil - Tumblr blog

[talkingllamaalecandseregil]

I went to the small pizzeria in a nearby village last month and asked for a calzone, and when she brought it to me the owner had a look on her face I can only describe as bitter.

Naturally my first assumption was that she was judging me for my food order (maybe calzones are too easy compared to other pizzas and she felt under-challenged as a pizza chef?), but then I looked at my calzone and the more I looked at it, the more I felt like it might have been a failed attempt at a cat calzone.

(I didn't ask for a cat calzone, just a calzone.)

If I had immediately identified it as a cat calzone I would have of course said something about it, such as "Aww that's so cute! You made it in the shape of a cat!! Thank you!" — but it was too late. I hesitated too long, and it was just failed enough that I wasn't sure it was meant to be a cat.

I think this poor woman knew her cat calzone was a failure and I wouldn't be able to recognise her effort for what it was, hence the bitterness in her eyes when she brought it to me.

I asked my friend if my pizza looked like a cat to her, and she said "Are you saying this because of the olives? I think they were just placed randomly."

no, I think they were meant to be eyes, and a cat nose. And those are the ears. Wait, I'll turn it in your direction so you can see

Friend: "It's just a pointy calzone... Maybe you should ask the chef if she meant to make it a cat?"

If I tried to make a cat calzone and the recipient of this gift went like 'hey, sorry, is this weird-looking thing meant to be cat?' I would sell my pizza restaurant and drown myself in the river.

After considering this, my friend said we could brainstorm a better phrasing—but then we ended up agreeing that since the chef didn't go 'haha sorry I tried to make a cat and failed!!' when she brought my pizza, the options were a) she didn't try to make a cat; b) she feels humiliated by her failure, and either way it's better to say nothing.

But I felt deeply curious about this unresolved mystery, so this week when I went back to the pizzeria I asked for a calzone again.

The options were now: a) the chef brings me a better, recognisable cat calzone and I immediately remark upon it and she's happy and we erase the failed cat calzone from the historical record and never mention it ever;

or b) the chef brings me a normal calzone, which suggests that the vague cat shape from last time was accidental and just another instance of chronic cat pareidolia.

(I refused to consider option c) The chef brings me another failed, hardly-recognisable cat. She just doesn't seem like the kind of person who would let that happen to her twice.)

Here's the photo of the failed cat calzone from last time, which, according to my friend, just looks like a pointy calzone with randomly-placed olives and not a deliberate attempt to make a cat:

And here's what the chef brought me this time:

THAT'S A CAT.

I knew it!!!!

And it looks so sad!! This cat calzone looks like it will burst into olive oil tears if you once again fail to identify it as the cat that it is

But I didn't; I was so ready this time. I went "A cat!!!!! It's so cute!" and the chef went like yes!!! I tried to make one last time but it looked weird :(

I said I was pretty sure it was a cat last time and apologised for not bringing it up and she said no, it's my responsibility to make it a decent cat. She also said she was glad I'd come back and ordered another calzone because she was really bothered ("vraiment embêtée") by that first failed attempt, and wondering if I'd noticed an attempt was made (and failed)

That's so relatable. It's like when you make a really embarrassing spelling mistake in a text and you're not sure if the other person has seen it and is judging you for it. Should you bring it up? Can it go unnoticed if you don't? It's the cat calzone equivalent of that. I'm so glad we were able to clear the air.

[talkingllamaalecandseregil]

Kind of a Reddit AITA post but sometimes it is a little funny to fuck with people in ways that deliberately conform to a stereotype of what they must think of you. the other day I was talking to my friend and I randomly said that I wanted a pet chimpanzee. I'd dress it in person clothes (dungarees and hats) and I'd teach it to love science fiction. And this girl nearby was like "you know how dangerous those things are, right? Also how unethical it is to keep an ape as your pet for your own amusement" and I was already seeing where the conversation was going so I was pretending ignorance like "yea but it wouldn't just be for my amusement. It would have practical points too." And she ignored that statement entirely to say "Well chimpanzees can rip faces off" and I was like. What's the most frustrating thing I can say now. Finally settled on "Mine wouldn't do that though." and you could tell she wanted to hurt me very very badly. Like a chimpanzee would if I had one as a pet

[talkingllamaalecandseregil]

*releases pack of dads into home depot* go……be free

[talkingllamaalecandseregil]

[talkingllamaalecandseregil]

Imagine if things in Gondolin used to be like, “old fashioned” and stuff

Everyone wore long robes, long pants and long sleeves, intricate armour and such

There was little touching outside of one’s family and most conversations were had in a formal way, even amongst friends

Glorfindel died before any of that began to change and in the hustle of being back from the dead and a war going on, he did not give much thought to the whole norms of socialisation business

After he settles in Imladris nothing seems to different, until one evening he is staying up late, talking to Erestor in his office. It is a hot summer night and Erestor is incredibly tired from all of his work.

He rests his head atop a pile of duty reports and reaches to undo the buttons of his long sleeved robes, pushing the heavy fabric off his shoulders.

It drops with a quiet rustle, attracting Glorfindel’s attention and a moment later he feels his face heat up and his eyes dart over Erestor’s exposed neck and collarbones, his white undershirt looking way too translucent in the candle light.

He rolls his sleeves up and rubs his temples exhaustedly, too distracted to notice Glorfindel’s reaction.

Glorfindel starts praying to the Valar to take him back, doing his best not to look at Erestor.

He does not notice Erestor’s concerned gaze, nor does he realise that his friend got up from his chair, until he’s standing right in front of mortified warrior.

“Your face looks very red, are you unwell from the heat?” Erestor asks and before Glorfindel can answer, reaches out to touch his forehead.

Glorfindel freezes, not sure what is going on and Erestor brushes a strand of his hair away from his face.

At that Glorfindel gets up faster than should be possible and runs away, muttering something about a sudden urgent guards business he forgot all about.

Erestor tries to stop him and grabs his hand, which absolutely short-circuits the poor ellon’s brain.

Erestor is left standing in his office, absolutely confused and in his usual pessimistic manner concludes that Glorfindel doesn’t like him.

Glorfindel sits down under a tree right outside and tries to catch his breath, wondering what has gotten into Erestor’s head. How could they possibly hold hands without being married.

Celebrian finds his there during her evening walk and for a moment fears something ill had befallen the captain.

Yet Glorfindel just looks up her with an absolutely scandalised expression and whispers. “Erestor made advances towards me.”

Celebrian is naturally shocked, Erestor being the last person she would ever suspect of anything untoward.

“He touched my forehead. And my hair.” Glorfindel’s face turns red again.

“And before that, he… He discarded his formal robe and pulled his sleeves up.” He turns to Celebrian with eyes wide with horror, as she is doing her bestest not to laugh. “I could see his collarbones. Collarbones!”

Celebrian is now the one praying for strength not to embarrass herself and Glorfindel with sudden laughter, remembering her mother’s stories about the peculiar ways of the old.

“And then…” Glorfindel does not seem to notice her struggle, his thoughts still undoubtedly way too focused on Erestor’s shameful collarbones.

“Then he tried to grab my hand and at that point I wasn’t even sure what he was saying, I made up some flimsy excuse and ran.”

Celebrian nods solemnly, not daring herself to speak and calla in her mind to her husband, hoping by some miracle of Eru’s he would not be asleep yet and could come to her aid. There is simply no way she is going to have the conversation with the Valars’ blessed emissary all by herself.

“I think I’m going to have to marry him now, to keep both of us honest.”

Celebrian shakes her head, fighting another bout of laughter, thankful it had not been Lindir or one of her beloved children that happened to witness Glorfindel’s breakdown. Or better yet, Ereinion back in the day.

She imagines the High Kings face lighting up with an involuntary smile, seeing the legendary Glorfindel of Gondolin loose his wits over a councillor’s collarbones and feels a warm and happy feeling flood her chest.

“How can I ever face him again?”

Glorfindel seems to be talking directly to her now and she snaps out of her thoughts before the warmth memories of Ereinion always bring is shattered by an icy cold reminder of his fall.

Thankfully and perhaps with divine intervention, that is the exact moment Elrond steppes into view, looking at his wire clearly struggling not to smile and Glorfindel, sitting on the ground and looking mortified.

He recounts the indecent experience once again and Celebrian is grateful for Elrond serving as a distraction and turns head away to laugh silently with no one but the stars to witness.

She is about to excuse herself and leave her unfortunate husband to deal with his friend’s embarrassment, when she spots a lone figure in the distance and follows the familiar shape after a short word with Elrond.

It indeed turns our to be Erestor, looming the gardens like a shadow, his hair hanging loosely and obscuring his face from view.

He is wearing no robes over his white shirt and one of its sleeves appears to be torn.

“Erestor?”

Celebrian steps up to the councillor, announcing herself not to startle him.

He turns to face her and in the dim starlight his eyes are dark and endless voids of sadness upon his pale and indifferent face.

“My most revered lady.” He greets her with a bow or his head and a smile, though it looks out of place next to the sorrow in his eyes.

“To have been blessed with your fair presence is a gift this wretched evening.”

Celebrian takes a step closer to lay her hand upon his cheek. He looks about to run from her, and perhaps had it been anybody else, he would have, yet the friendship that grew between them over the years meant she was perhaps the only one he would honestly speak his troubles to.

“I believe the noble Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin desires to be wed to you, councillor.”

“I beg your pardon, my lady?”

Erestor looks at her in astonishment.

“He believes it is the only way to preserve your and his own decency after the absolutely scandalous and entirely inappropriate way you behaved towards him in your office.”

Erestor’s eyebrows shoot up with astonishing speed.

“What?”

“Collarbones, councillor.” Celebrian can no longer keep herself from laughter, taking in the councillor’s bewildered expression.

“It is all very simple - you have shamelessly displayed your collarbones and both of your entire forearms to the noble lord, as well as attempted to hold his hand before marriage, which compels the noble lord to wed you and spare both of your from this shame.”

Erestor appears about to start laughing or perhaps crying, Celebrian is not entirely certain of that.

She pats his shoulder gently, giving him a look similar to the one her children would get after getting into inevitable trouble due not knowing something vital in their young age.

“He is a lord of Gondolin from the first age. The last time he socialised with people rolling your sleeves up would be akin to taking all your clothes off in public. He might have gotten slightly traumatised by your collarbones, but at least we now know he wants to marry you.”

“I wish I was dead right now.”

“Elrond is the one I left with Glorfindel. He is going to have to tell him you are allowed to hold hands before marriage now.” She laughs once again. “I do hope he does bring Ereinion up. It is doubtful the noble lord could ever recover from that conversation.”

Erestor laughs.

“I think I ought to apologise. Clear everything up between the two of us.”

She is about to tell him what a terrible it would be to go talk to Glorfindel at the moment, yet does not have the time before he is already off, waving his sleeveless arm at Glorfindel, who attempts to hide behind the nearly laughing Elrond.

Idk what this is, ahahaha

The only reason this exists is because i imagined the first age having victorian era style ankle freak-outs and because I desperately believe Erestor and Celebrian are best friends.

It’s 2:20 am and I have to wake up at 5 :)))

And so i wrote whatever the fuck this is instead. Cheers!

[talkingllamaalecandseregil]

Hello sir.

Does it get better?

Yes. Sometimes it gets worse again too. But yes, it gets better.

[talkingllamaalecandseregil]

Me: I shouldn't disturb Neil Gaiman. I shouldn't send an ask unless I really have no way of getting the information otherwise. I'll check old interviews and all the articles that vaguely mention the subject. Of course it goes without saying that I'll read though the FAQ in its entirety. Only then, will I send an ask. However, I'd be very polite and praise his work, as anyone would. I'd also keep it short, because I don't want to waste his time. But I'd keep it very very respectful. I'd be sending a message to a very talented, amazing author that deals with god knows how many like me. Or I'd just stay in the dark and not send him an ask. Yeah, I'll do that.

My Dash:

[talkingllamaalecandseregil]

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[talkingllamaalecandseregil]

Speedy boi

[talkingllamaalecandseregil]

I think the funniest possible thing to do in a low stakes situation when someone subtly insults you is to ask them to elaborate.

In Seattle I was explaining environmental DNA and a woman said it “tickled” her to hear someone with my accent (rural Appalachia) “talk about science.”

So I said, “oh! 🙂 What an interesting perspective. Can you tell me more about what you mean?”

As you can imagine it went badly for her very quickly.

[talkingllamaalecandseregil]

technically not dog content but i mean. look at this

[talkingllamaalecandseregil]

Last night at work a man told me that I look better when I take my glasses off and I immediately replied that he looks better when I take my glasses off too and he got really angry and I think it was one of the proudest moments of my life

[talkingllamaalecandseregil]

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