#but what joke do you tell a comedian who's ~heard it all~

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

a snapshot of the result of spending a solid hour trying to find/create a suitable joke

[eomayas]

tell me a joke • hjs

pairing: husband!joshua x wife!reader, established relationship & parent au

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!!, fluff, slice of life, reader is jealous

synopsis: reader definitely isn't jealous when she sees her husband making another woman laugh, and she'd like to know what is so funny.

warnings: p in v, oral (f receiving), slight dom/sub dynamics, implied jealousy, joshua makes a bad joke (my bad).

a/n: i do think joshua is funny but for the purposes of this fic, reader doesn’t give him enough credit 😭😭 enjoy. this is sort of ass but yk.

your husband was funny, but he wasn’t that funny. your attention keeps being. pull from the group conversation you’re having, to your husband and another woman having a conversation a few feet away. you don’t have a problem with joshua talking to and with other women, you trust your husband and don’t feel threatened by other women. but, the amount of laughter you’ve heard come from her mouth in the last few minutes is enough to make your eyebrows raise and be curious as to when joshua picked up a side career as a comedian. again, he’s funny, but he is not that funny.

casting another glance in that direction, you take a notice of the hand she places on his arm and decide you’d like to hear some of the jokes he’s been telling, since he’s so funny. “hold on, i’ve got to go check on my husband,” you say to the group of women you’re currently talking to, downing the rest of the water in your cup and setting it down on the table. they all cast their eyes on joshua, a few of them snickering.

“do what you’ve got to do, girl,” you appreciate the support and start to make your way towards joshua until you are intercepted by tiny arms wrapping themselves around your legs.

“mama, we found a lizard!” your daughter shouts, bouncing on her feet. you look at her with big eyes and wide smile, bending down to pick her up and swoop her in your arms.

“really? was it a baby? or was it big?” you ask, carrying her over to joshua with you. it’s probably messed up to use your own daughter as a reason to interrupt your husband talking to another woman, but you don’t want to come off as jealous or clingy.

“mmm, in the middle. it was so cool, mommy! can i get one?” she asks, making you give her an absolutely not look. she pouts and gives you puppy eyes that always work on you, and sigh.

“let’s ask papa,” you say, sidling up next to joshua and interrupting the conversation. joshua looks over at you and your daughter and smiles a big smile, opening his arms to engulf the two of you in a hug. you feel a sense of relief wash over you, and you wish you didn’t because you really do trust joshua, you just don’t know the woman he’s talking with.

“ask me what?” he asks, a curious look on his face.

“oh, papa, can i get a lizard? please?” she begs, reaching for him. if anything, he was the one who would crack easiest out of the two of you. the moment she asks for anything, he usually says yes unless it’s extreme, but even then he’ll take it into consideration.

joshua flashes you a look of confusion and kisses your daughter on the cheek. “a lizard?”

“yes, papa, we just found one! oh, put me down please!” she struggles to get out of his grip until he sets her feet down on the ground, and she takes off running to go play with the other kids. you can help but laugh, your daughter being a ball of energy neither of you really know where to place.

“that girl, i tell you,” he chuckles, watching her run off and play with a look in his eye that breaks your heart in the best way. it’s the same look he had the first time he held her after you gave birth, one that lets you know that there’s nothing in this world that he loves more than being a father. “but hey, honey.” he says, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him.

neither of you are too big on PDA, but you take the opportunity to kiss him, the hand that’s not holding onto his going to rest on his abdomen. when you two pull apart, he looks at you quizzically before remembering that you’re in front of company. “oh, minhee, this is my wife, y/n,” you give her a polite smile and extend your hand.

“hi, im yeji’s mom,” she says and you nod, the polite smile on your face. but you never drop joshua’s hand and he rubs the back of it with his thumb.

you decide that you’ve really seen enough and that it’s time for you to go back to the group you just came from. “well, it was nice to meet you!” you turn to your husband and kiss him on the cheek, your hand resting on his side. he can tell there’s something up, but he’s not sure what it is and knows it’s not the time to bring it up. he squeezes your hand before you slip away and out of his grasp, and makes a mental note to bring it up later.

slipping into bed, you pull on your glasses and pick up the book on your nightstand. you’re grateful for a calm and quiet night, your daughter having a sleepover with her cousins thus allowing you and joshua to have a night of uninterrupted sleep. your daughter is prone to waking up in the middle of the night, for a bad dream or otherwise, and ends up sleeping between the two of you more than half the time.

joshua comes out of the bathroom and shuts off the big light in the room, only leaving your lamps on the nightstands to illuminate the room. you look up from your page and give him a smile before going back to your novel. he hovers above his side of the bed for a second and you notice, ready to say something until he finally slips under the covers with you.

"hmm?" you hum, not looking up from the page you are currently reading. you can tell joshua has something to say, you know him too well, and he knows that you know him too well.

"it was a nice party, yeah?" you chuckle to yourself at the small talk. its his lead in, of course, to whatever is on his mind that he feels like he can't outright say.

"mhm. it was cute; minji had a lot of fun," you say. he makes a noise of agreement and then its quiet. you stop reading but keep your eyes trained on the page. he shifts in bed, and then a heavy hand is placed on your leg above the sheets. you feel its warmth all the same, and put your bookmark back into you book before placing it on your nightstand. "yes?"

joshua gives you a bashful smile and lightly shakes his head. "what was that earlier?" he questions, cheeks lightly dusted with a cute blush. you pretend like you don't know exactly what he is referring to, and furrow your eyebrows and ask him, "what as what earlier?"

he chuckles and lets out a sigh, gently patting your thigh. "oh, you're cute," he says, lolling his head to the side and looking up at you, an amused expression on his face. he knows you too well. "were you j- don't say it!" you cut him off and gently hit him across his stomach. he knows you hate that word, hate it being used in reference to your personality or behavior especially.

joshua captures your hand and brings it up to his mouth and places a kiss on the back of it. you watch him and let out a sigh through your nose. "I wasn't jealous," you state, but even you know that isn't entirely true. "I just wanted to know when you got so funny." you state. joshua laughs in mild confusion and sits up against the headboard.

"i'm always funny."

"no, you're not. but I love you anyway," you say, gently pinching his cheek. he rolls his eyes and pushes your hand away and you laugh. "if you're so funny, tell me a joke."

"you want to hear a joke?"

"if you're as funny as you and minhee seem think, yeah."

he smiles at you and squeezes your hand. "okay, i'll tell you a joke," joshua starts. you raise your eyebrows in anticipation. joshua presses a long kiss to your cheek, clearly stalling and further proving your point. "okay, i've got one." he says against your skin, gently dragging his teeth against your jaw.

"shoot."

he rolls on top of you and tugs you down flat onto your pillow. he kisses your neck, right under your jaw and then moves to the column of your throat. "what do you call a wet plain?" he mutters, mouth moving down to your collarbones as one of his hands skates up the side of your thigh and underneath your short, silk nightdress.

"a wet plain?" you question as his mouth skates across the tops of your breasts. he hums and hooks his fingers in the band of your underwear and pulls them down to your knees. "what?" you gasp when joshua drags two fingers up your folds, collecting your wetness and spreading it around your clit, making you twitch and knees press together.

joshua flicks his eyes up to meet your own and gives you a knowing look. flushing, you tell him the joke sucks, and let out a loud gasp when he disappears underneath the covers and attaches his lips to your clit. he suckles on your nub and yanks your underwear down the rest of your legs. "j-josh! fuck!" you cry ripping off your reading glasses and pushing the blanket down to rest on the back of his neck. your husband licks up between your folds before pushing his tongue into you hole, making you gasp and arch your back off the bed. sheets get crumpled beneath your hands and your thighs try to lock around his head, but joshua forces your legs open and uses his shoulders to keep you spread out for him.

your hips buck up into his face as he laps at you, sucking and licking at every inch of you. with each whimper and moan from you, joshua grows painfully more hard. his dick aches in his pants, desperately wanting to be free and buried inside of you. "o-oh, f-fuck! joshua, fuck!" you shriek. he knows your body like the back of his hand, understands what every whimper, gasp, and moan means. it all encourages him to keep going, but he knows that you are close.

joshua inserts two fingers inside of you and curls them upwards and attaches his mouth around your clit again. he fucks his fingers into you and you cry out his name, thrashing on the bed above him. your entire body feels hot and sweat coats you face, neck, and chest with a light sheen.

"im g-gonna cum!" you yelp, hips bucking up into his face. joshua continues to suckle on you clit and move his fingers in and out of you, pushing into that spongy spot inside. your vision goes spotty as the coil in the pit of your stomach snaps and brings you to your release. joshua slurps up your juices in an attempt to get every drop. you lie above him with your eyes closed as you try to regain your breath, your chest rising and falling like you've just ran a marathon. "shit." you breathe out, followed by a small whimper when he pulls his fingers out of you.

you crack an eye open when you feel joshua move from between you legs and sit on his knees above you. he places his fingers in his mouth and sucks your arousal off and shoves his other hand down his pants to stroke his aching cock. "fuck," he hisses, eyebrows furrowing as he shamelessly pumps his own cock in front of you. "baby, i need to fuck you." he says, his voice full of lust and desire.

"then fuck me," you say, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth. you fully open your eyes to watch him pull off his pants and boxers to let his dick spring free. the tip is red and swollen, and pre-cum leaks out of it.

"i love, you know," he rasps, grabbing your left leg. he kisses the inside of your ankle before draping it over his shoulder and doing the same to your right. "does this feel alright?" he asks, fingertips mindlessly stroking you skin softly.

you nod and reply, "i know." to his previous statement. he kisses your knee and lets go of one of your thighs to grab onto his cock to line it up with your entrance. "i love you, too."

he smiles at you and leans down to kiss you on the lips, and to test if folding you in half is uncomfortable. when you don't make a sound of discomfort, he pulls back and starts to push his cock forward into you. when he presses the tip in, your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. he presses in a few more inches then stops to let you adjust to the stretch, but he doesn't give you long before he starts moving in and out. "fuck, you're tight," he grunts. you involuntarily clench around him and he lets out a harsh breath. "shit."

"more, joshie," you whine, grabbing a fistful of the sheets. joshua drops his head and speeds up his thrusts, groaning every time he pushes into you. you pant out his name and squeeze your eyes shut.

with every thrust into you, it feels like he’s knocking the air from your lungs. he’s reaching deep inside of you, hitting spots that have you seeing stars. “fuck, baby, i-i love you,” he grunts, pushing your legs closer to your chest. “and i love this perfect pussy.” you sob out his name, legs shaking on his shoulders.

“shua, i-i cant t-take it!” you cry out, clenching around him each time he pushes into you. that familiar knot forms in your stomach and grows tighter and tighter each second.

“i’m close too, baby,” his hips lose rhythm as he slams into you harder than he previously was, each thrust punctuated by a swear. “fuck, i’m close. fuck!”

moments later, you’re coming for the second time and he follows seconds behind you, filling you up and stuffing you full of his seed. he stays still inside of you, keeping his cum from spilling out of you. “i love you,” you pant, legs feeling like jelly when you try to move them off of his shoulders. joshua kisses you calf and gently takes your legs down onto the bed but keeps himself stuffed inside of you. “so much.” you add, reaching out to him. joshua leans down and captures you lips in a kiss. the movement makes his hips rock into you and you gasp against his mouth, hands splaying across his broad back. you can feel his love with the way he holds you, with the desire he kisses you with.

pulling back from your lips, you whimper when he moves inside of you again and he only winks at you before pulling his cock out of you. melting against the mattress is practically what happens, and he falls into place next to you. he grabs your hand and strokes the back of it with his thumb. “you don’t have to worry, y/n,” his voice is soft and makes you feel warm all over.

“i know. it was stupid,” you say, turning your head to look at him. he leans towards you and kisses your forehead. “i just wanted to laugh too.” you add pettily. joshua chuckles and sighs, rolling you onto your side and tugging your backside into his front.

“wanna hear another joke?” he mumbles into your ear, the arm that he’s laying on coming up to cup your breast in his hand while the other skates up your nightdress. soft sighs leave your mouth when he squeezes your boob and tweaks your nipple through the thin fabric.

“s-sure,” you breathe when his hand slips between your thighs. the setup and pun is lost on you, and you’re not sure if it’s better than the first because he buries two fingers inside of you and yanks the top of your dress down to let your breasts spill free. bad jokes be damned, he makes you cum two more times—once on his fingers and the second on his cock, your throat scratchy from crying out his name.

joshua may not make you laugh with his jokes, but he knows how to fuck you just right.

[serenefreakgeekao3]

Can we get a Jim Halpert x short!gn!reader who is just enamored with how much Taller Jim is than them. Like sometimes when they’re trying to reach up for something he suddenly just lefts them up so they can grab it, or if someone is bothering them he uses his hight to be intimating, and they just swoon. <3

Summary: Being the shortest person at Dunder Mifflin comes with a lot of problems- one namely being your boss, Michael Scott, who thinks he must be the newest and brightest comedian of their century. Spoiler alert: He’s really not. Warnings: short jokes (beware),  A/N: So i’ve been called short maybe once or twice, but to be completely honest I’m literally at the ‘average’ mark on the scale so i’m just here, existing in neither shortness nor tallness. However, i’ve always heard the ‘short jokes’ are unending so I figured I’d base it on that? Sorry i know they’re annoying, but hopefully Jim’s sweetness makes up for it

“Aha! There they are!” Michael calls out just as you enter, and you feel a deep sense of regret begin billowing into your stomach. “Winner of the shortest person award!” Michael’s laughter was boisterous, making you want to cringe away from him and just make it to your desk. Just make it there, at the very least. You did literally just walk into work, you haven’t even set your briefcase down yet. Michael thankfully jumps away from you, approaching accounting. “I’m surprised you’re not starting a real cat fight Angela, with how Y/N over there stole your special office title!”

“My official title is ‘Accountant,’ Michael,” Angela reminds him in a wary voice, huffing her displeasure at being spoken to. Michael just laughs and begins shrugging his shoulder against Angela’s own as if they shared a common joke. Angela just looks on in disgust as Michael continues on.

“Catfight, get it? ‘Cause you’re the cat lady!” Angela only scoffs and Michael continues his boisterous laugh, turning and making his way back to his office.

“Michael, don’t forget,” Pam calls out behind you as you place your bag onto your desk, the solo desk in the Quality Assurance position at Dunder Mifflin. You turn to watch this interaction, Pam looking frustrated as she shakes a wad of papers at the man. “You have that appointment with corporate in-”

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t have Pam, god!” Michael pushes the wad of papers away and storms into his office, and you still can’t for the life of you figure out how Michael can switch between emotions so quickly. Your eyes scan the room- mostly the sales department- and wonder about where half of the team had wandered off to. Stanley remained sitting at his desk, but it seemed as if the rest of them had disappeared. You hear a quick ‘Psst!’ and turn to lock eyes with Pam, making your way over at a wave from her.

“Michael came out here before you got here, said something about a massive sale that he needed all of his sales associates to go on.” Pam stage-whispered over to you, and you nod along slowly.

“Ah, that makes sense-”

“So, yeah, that’s where Jim is.”

“Pam-” You start, looking around nervously before skirting around her desk to see her more eye-to-eye without having to stand on your toes. “Shush up! I told you that in confidence!” You watch Pam giggle, placing a hand to her mouth as she does.

“Oh I know,” Pam nods with wide eyes, leaning against her desk faux-casually as she watches you. “Just like Jim told me in confidence that-”

“What’s a couple of short stacks doing back behind this huge desk?” Jim’s voice emanates suddenly from behind you and you jump, turning with wide eyes toward him. He seems to be locking eyes with Pam, who giggles once more with her hand covering her mouth. You couldn’t quite translate Jim’s look to her, but it held some sort of meaning you were sure.

“Oh! Hey Jim! I thought you had that sales thing?” Jim raises an eyebrow toward you, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“I did but then I coughed at Dwight and got out of it. Figured they had enough people as is- but the real question here is: How did you know about the sales call? You weren’t in here when Michael announced it.”

“Watching for me, Jim?” You tease, circling the desk and making your way back to your own. Jim quickly skirted around the desk, following behind you.

“Well, yeah, obviously. You’re so tiny I have to know where you are so I don’t trip over you.” You groan at yet another short joke, rolling your eyes and turning to look at him with an unimpressed look. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Pam told me where you- where all the sales associates went.”

“Asking after me, Y/L/N?” You scoff loudly, turning to lean yourself against your desk, crossing your arms up at Jim.

“Pam volunteered the information, thank you very much.” You look up into Jim’s eyes and can’t help but feel shrouded by his form. He takes another step closer, pushing you over slightly to lean against your desk himself, and hunching toward you whether he realized it or not. He acted as a sort of shield from the rest of the office, which some days you definitely felt like you needed.

“And why would Pam do something like that?” Jim’s voice was quieter like he was accounting for the new distance- or lack thereof. You stare into his hazel eyes, swallowing roughly. You couldn’t help but feel safe in the shield of comfort that he provided.

“Perhaps because half of the room’s occupants were not seated at their usual desks, which is a rather odd occurrence for a day at work.” You turn, grabbing a random handful of papers and tapping them on your desk. “Speaking of, isn’t that something you should be doing?” Jim laughs, pushing himself to stand from your desk before turning and saluting at you, walking backwards back to his own desk.

“Touche, Y/N!”

“Watch where you’re going!” You didn’t mean to sound too worried as you called it out, but Jim just chuckled, shrugging toward you.

“Why? I’m already keeping my eye on one safety hazard.”

“Yes, because I’m so short, ha ha.”

Coffee.

That’s what you needed today was coffee. Perhaps multiple cups to get through this shitshow of a day. After Michael’s brilliant start to the day with the short jokes, it seemed he had retired to his room solely to come up with more jokes to torture you with. You weren’t sure why it was your turn to take all of Michael’s attention, but you were ready to throw in the towel and leave early for the day already. You could just start over tomorrow morning, no harm no foul! Except then Michael would cry because he didn’t think you liked his jokes- which you don’t- and then you’d have to deal with consoling him for a solid hour before he eventually yelled that he didn’t need pity, and you would respond that it’s not pity- which it was- and spend another hour consoling him of that as well. You would know- it’s happened before.

And now you didn’t even have Jim around to curb the jokes or turn them into something that was actually funny. After your play-fight with Jim, he was then swiped away by Stanley- who apparently was the last one of the sales associates left only because he had his own sales call to go on. He had begged Jim to tag along, and of course the man agreed considering how nice he is. What wasn’t nice was leaving you alone with Michael when- well, just ever really. So if you look at it that way, it really all was Jim’s fault. Stupid Jim.

You shook your head, waking yourself from your daydream as you stared at the coffee pot, urging it to brew faster. It was already filled with half a pot, and you knew technically you should wait for the full pot to brew before pouring any but you really needed caffeine in your life immediately. You wandered over to the drainer by the sink to grab a cup, then hesitated as you realized there were no cups laying there. There were no dishes at all, actually, indicating someone actually came in here and took the time to put the dishes away. That’d normally be a good and nice thing, aside from the fact that you were too short to reach the cabinets above the counter where the mugs were all stored. Sighing, you turn to look for the step stool you usually keep around. (Technically it was the office’s step stool, but you were the only one that ever had to use it.)

It wasn’t where you left it, over to the side of the counter and next to the table. Looking around the room, you couldn’t spot it still. You checked the bathroom, thinking maybe it was in there- there had been a time or two it was moved in there either for use or for storage- but you couldn’t find it there either. You didn’t bother to check the other bathroom, just huffing to yourself and placing your hands on your hips. Glaring upward at the cabinets above the sink, you will the doors to open and a cup to float down by itself. Then when that didn’t work, you got to work trying to stand on your toes and reach up. The handle to the door was just out of your reach, but you should be able to swipe it open, maybe-

You startled at a large hand intercepting your own, swiping you out of the way and opening the door. You set yourself off of your tip-toes, flat-footed now only to turn and notice Jim pressing you in close to the kitchen counter as he reaches above you. He pulls down a mug- your favourite mug, no less- and places it on the counter beside you. You were able to turn around in place, but Jim only places his hands on the counter to either side of you, blocking you in.

“You should ask for help next time,” Jim whispers down to you, and looking up into his hazel eyes has your heart doing funny things. Maybe it’s the crush you have, maybe you’ve just developed some sort of heart-stuttering problem that you’d need to get checked out, but with Jim’s proximity, you couldn’t really think straight to debate either at the moment. You bit your lip, glancing at your cup and back up to him before finally finding your voice.

“I had that perfectly fine-”

“You couldn’t even reach the door, Y/L/N.”

“Well, I’ll have you know I was trying to get two cups, so,” You were just about to turn when Jim lifted his gaze finally. You felt like you could finally breathe- for the one whole second it took for Jim to lean forward into your space to reach above your head. He pulled down another mug to set on the counter, and you pull in a deep breath full of his scent that only serves to make you dizzier. You lift your gaze to him again, shaking your head. “No, I just meant-”

“What, three cups?”

“Maybe,” You mumble out, turning to face the kitchen counter again. You reach up to try your own hand- you would not be two-upped by him- and it’s an even worse predicament than before. At least with the door handle you had even a chance, and right now you couldn’t even reach to touch the bottom of the cupboard. Attempting to stretch yourself further, already on your tip-toes, you were just about to give up when you felt two large hands grab right under your armpits. They heave you up, and suddenly you’re at a height that you’d never really seen this room at before. Quickly reaching forward, you take two more mugs into your hands before the hands slowly set you back down on your feet.

‘Holy hells, how strong is he?’ You think to yourself, turning to lift your gaze back up to Jim. He was smiling, likely on the verge of laughter, though he had yet to. You could feel your face heating up and knew that blush was lighting up your face. What were you supposed to do now? Jim just picked you up, how do you move on from that?

“Four cups?” Jim questions you as he reaches forward to one of the new ones you had grabbed, taking it from your hand to turn it over in his own. He probably chose to grab that one as it was the one you had seen him use the most often, you figured it might be his favourite. You hoped so at least, considering he was able to grab your favourite after just one try.

“Three,” You admit quietly, turning to watch the last of the coffee brew into the pot, “I grabbed an extra in case you wanted some.” Jim’s head shot up to look at you, and you tilted your head in confusion at the reaction. His eyes were wide, and if you didn’t know any better you would’ve said a slight blush was lighting up his own cheeks now. But why would offering him a cup of coffee make him embarrassed? “That’s only if you want some, of course.”

“I do!” He insisted, placing the cup down and spinning it slowly with one hand, staring at you the entire time. You got a little squirmy, reaching out to heft the large coffee pot and begin pouring it into your three cups. “Did you-” You glance briefly up at Jim- who was biting his lip by the gods is he trying to kill you?- before looking quickly back at your task so as to not spill any coffee. “Did you know this was my favourite cup?”

“Yeah,” You replied easily, watching his fingers stop spinning the cup right as you answer. “That’s why I grabbed that one.” You motion the pot over to his cup, watching him jump slightly before sliding his cup over toward you. You pour the coffee before replacing the pot back where it goes. You begin the process of adding sugar and creamer to the cups, sighing softly.

“So, why three cups? You being generous to someone else out there?”

“Nope,” You pop your mouth on the word, smirking up toward Jim before resuming your objective. “I just figured that the minimum amount of coffee I need to complete this day would be three cups, so I’m planning accordingly.” You hear Jim chuckle, smiling softly to yourself and beginning to add the sugar and creamer to Jim’s own- less than you like in yours, but that’s how he normally took it.

“Is that right? Did something happen that’s exhausting you today?”

“Just Michael and his dumb short jokes.”

“Ah,” Jim breathes out, leaning his hip against the counter and looking over his shoulder toward Michael’s office. “Did he do the old ‘appreciate the little things’ one?”

“Followed by a big hug, yep,” You sigh, taking one of the cups and scalding your mouth to take a drink of it. “Had to practically push him off of me.”

“And the miniature golf one?”

“‘Do you just call it regular golf?’” You repeat Michael’s joke from earlier, deepening your voice to mock him. Sighing, you take another large gulp and wince at the temperature. Jim reaches forward, seemingly unconsciously, and slowly lowers your cup to the counter, pushing it away from you. You wonder if he realized you were burning your tongue on it.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Sounds like a rough day if he’s going all out.”

“Oh, absolutely. He also tried out a new one! ‘Sometimes when I look at short people, I wonder if they’re able to reach their goals!’” You turn at this, huffing out an aggravated breath. You had meant to tell this one as a joke, but just as it had hit you off guard before, it was hitting you again. You tried to keep from tearing up, but really- who wanted to work as Quality Assurance for a paper company? Obviously, you haven’t been able to reach your goals and Michael just unwittingly mocked you for that.

“Hey, hey,” Jim began, reaching an arm out to place against your upper arm, noticing how fragile you suddenly became. “That was uncalled for,” Jim agreed, stepping closer to you to tower over you once more, “I’m sure Michael didn’t mean for it to be that bad, he’s just trying to think up different short puns.” He patted your arm, squeezing it once before continuing, “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had to go to his office to look them up. I bet he didn’t even come up with it on his own.”

You laugh blearily, raising a hand to wipe away a tear that had yet to fall, but almost did. Jim began rubbing your arm up and down, and you lifted your coffee cup once more to take a big gulp. You hear the door to the room open, hoping it wasn’t who you thought it was.

“Oh, there you are!” You hold back a groan at the sound of Michael’s voice, closing your eyes to try and rein in your feelings. “Hey, I have a good one! What do you call it when a short person says goodbye?” You can hear Michael’s excitement behind you, and while normally you’d feel bad for ruining that sort of happiness, you just really weren’t in the mood for it right now. “Y/N, hey! What do you call it when you say goodbye!” He taps on your shoulder, and you finally turn to look at him with your eyebrows raised.

“Michael,” Jim tries to inject, raising a hand between the two of you. Michael, too excited to stop, jumps up and down before he finally bursts out laughing, his words jumbled and almost unrecognizable.

“A microwave! Get it! Micro!” He laughs again, and you try to find any semblance of care to keep this job, anything to get you to smile at Michael and move on like you usually do. That’s when Jim steps in front of you, moving closer to Michael. You gulp, his whole body blocking your boss from you, and you slowly realize that Jim was backing Michael up to the wall, towering over him very specifically.

“What about me, Michael?” Jim takes another step forward, Michael stumbling on a backwards step. “Have any tall jokes for me?”

“But, tall jokes-”

“Michael,” Jim’s voice lowered, and while you couldn’t see his face you could almost hear how serious it must’ve looked. Michael scurries out from next to Jim, hurrying over to the door. He clears his throat, throwing an undisguised fearful look toward Jim before straightening his suit coat and turning to leave the room.

There was something about that- maybe Jim using his height for you or even defending you from someone you were obviously having problems with- that made you suck in a breath. You knew you were blushing before, but your face felt like an inferno now. As Jim turns to look at you with an apprehensive look, you didn’t know what your own face was projecting at this point. All you kept thinking was that scene, Jim towering over Michael and chasing him away. Jim and his big body and big hands and-

A hand was being waved in your face and you jumped, widening your eyes further and drawing your gaze upward to meet with Jim. He was smiling, laughing it seemed, and finally crossed his arms. “I seemed to lose you there for a second, you alright?”

“Yeah- yes, I’m fine.” You could hear the breathless tone to your voice and cursed inwardly, turning to quickly grab your cup of coffee and drain the rest of what was in the cup. Jim raised his eyebrows at this, laughing again as you place your mug into the sink and grab the second one.

“No, but really, are you okay? Michael has some pretty shitty timing.” Timing, right. You were talking to him about something. What were you talking about? You met Jim’s gaze again and took another drink, hoping to buy time. He only laughs, reaching for his own cup and mirroring you, taking his own sip. His eyes dart briefly down to his cup before raising back to you, something in him softening at the taste.

“I’m fine. Really. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Of course,” Jim answers right away, smiling and holding his mug close to his chest. “If only I had been here the rest of the day, I would’ve been able to help out before it got too bad.”

“You know,” You were surprised you finally were able to find your voice, taking another drink from your coffee just to keep him in suspense. “I’m now wondering if he ran to his office to start looking up tall jokes now.” Jim groaned playfully, rolling his eyes and leaning a hip against the counter. “‘How’s the weather up there?’ And whatnot, you know?”

“Oh, I know, “ Jim insists, causing you to bubble up with laughter once more. “I think his most recent one was, ‘What’s the difference between a clown and a tall person?’” You raise your eyebrows, taking a drink from your coffee. He smirks, continuing on, “Their shoe store.” You huff a smile laugh, shaking your head.

“That’s horrible.”

“I didn’t mind it that much,” Jim replies with a shrug, watching your face. You wonder why you’re being scrutinized so closely, until he finishes his sentence, “I mean, you know what they say about big feet.” You choke on your coffee, turning and coughing away from Jim. Your eyes were wide, running that sentence through your head. You could swear that you’ve never blushed this often in your entire life, and yet your face heats up once more to its familiar warmth and you aren’t sure what you’re supposed to do with your hands. Placing your now empty second mug into the sink, you take hold of your last one and fake salute toward Jim.

“Alright! And with that, I am off!” You hear Jim laughing loudly behind you, shaking your head and pressing the back of your hand to your cheek. You turn and call back into the room, “To do work! Like we’re supposed to be doing!” The door closes on Jim’s laughter, and you hurry to make it back to your desk. No one seems bothered by your commotion aside from Pam, who just looks at you with a smile and a head tilt. You just shake your head in response, finding refuge at your desk.

“So, drinks tonight?”

“Yeah, drinks sound great!”

“Are we going to-”

“Of course!”

“Hey, Y/N!” You turn your head at your name, eyeing the group of coworkers congregating at the glass doors as they all take turns putting on their jackets. It was Phyllis who called your name, and you tried to turn your brain back on enough to pay attention. After all, work is over now, you shouldn’t need to use your brain anymore. That just sounded exhausting.

“Yeah?”

“Are you coming?” At that you tilt your head, and Phyllis smiles at you kindly, “Everyone is going out for drinks.”

“Oh,” You consider it, looking at the group of them before nodding, your smile growing. “Sure! That sounds fun!”

“Nope!” You jump at the loud sound of Michael’s voice, turning to look at him with wide eyes. He approaches you and hunches down to look you in the eye- completely unnecessarily. “You can’t come!” He stands again, holding a hand above your head, “You must be this tall to ride this ride! Sorry, gotta be this tall to have a drink with the lads!” He laughs loudly, turning to usher everyone out of the building. You stand there gaping, then turn to look at Phyllis, who in turn looked horrified.

“Oh, Y/N, that was-” She huffs, “You’re still allowed to come you know.”

“No, that’s okay Phyllis,” You began, sighing and glaring at the back of Michael’s head. “I don’t think I’d have much fun with him around anyway.”

“Well, since you’re free,” You startle again, huffing when you turn around and come face-to-face with Jim. Well, face-to-chest, but you’re not here to make fun of your own height.

“Jim! You scared me.” You playfully glare at him, finishing up packing up your desk. Phyllis, unnoticed, smiled at the two of you before leaving.

“As I was saying,” Jim continues, circling around to stand right next to you. You raise your eyes to him once more, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. When he takes your hand, your eyebrow immediately falls, and you drop your gaze to look at the sight of his fingers mixing with yours. “Since you’re free tonight, maybe we could go get a drink ourselves?” You raise your surprised gaze to Jim, unsure what to say as he finally continues in a lowered and deeper voice, “Just us?”

“Jim,” You begin, his name more of an exhale than really spoken, “What are you- like a date?”

“I know our size difference is so vast,” Jim playfully insists, pulling your hand twice with his own before tangling your fingers together, “But somehow I think we can push past it.”

“So, a-”

“Yes, a date,” Jim clears up with a laugh, reaching his other hand to place against your cheek. “I promise I won’t take you to a giant’s bar.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“I better be able to fit on the stools.” His smile widens, using your hands to pull you in closer.

“Is that a-”

“That’s a yes, yeah,” You agreed easily, attempting to stand on your toes to reach up toward him. Luckily, at the same moment, Jim leaned down and your lips finally met. Jim’s hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you in closer and you couldn’t help but melt against him. When your kiss finally breaks and he straightens back up, you pout up at him. He chuckles, shaking his head with a soft look.

“A kiss like that and all I get is a pout? I must be off my game.” You laugh, playfully hitting his chest before huffing.

“Not that, the kiss was amazing. It’s just,” You playfully glare up at him, taking hold of his tie, “You’re too tall. I can’t just surprise you with a kiss, you have to lean all the way down here just for it to happen!” Jim laughs, sliding his head from the back of your head down to your back while you spoke and pulling you in closer.

“Well, that just sounds like quitters talk.”

“You’re on then, Halpert.” So, maybe today wasn’t the worst day.

[shares-a-vest]

@flufftober Spring Edition Day 2: Banter, Joking, Fun

wc: 650 | Rated: T | cw: None

Tags: Dad-Jokes, Steddie Dads, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson

‘Eddie Munson vs. Multi-Generational Penguin Jokes’

Eddie hums with relief as he pulls the lever on Steve’s recliner and eases himself back. A sense of relief washes over him, the pain in his lower back finally alleviating as he stretches out as far as the chair can go.

“Yes,” he hisses, closing his eyes as he palms around the side table for the latest copy of People, and readies himself for a quiet afternoon of reading.

Joanie is playing in her room and Steve is... well...

Doing something that doesn’t require hogging the squishy comfort of the recliner and allows Eddie the privacy of perusing a gossip rag free from teasing barbs.

He locates the magazine and opens his eyes, flicking to a story about Bruce Springsteen’s handsomeness and tight jeans. If he holds the magazine up to cover his face completely, he might even stay camouflaged enough that even the cats won’t bother him.

Eddie side-eyes the fridge, regretting not indulging in a cold one when his magazine knock-knocks towards him, the punched paper crinkling and warping despite his hands stiffening (and cramping) with a steel-like grip in a feeble attempt to save The Boss’s face.

He straightens up at a snail’s pace – enough to peer over the top of his magazine without completely giving up his comfort.

And sure enough, the magazine-crinkling, interrupting culprit is Joanie, smiling all too sweet in her sunshine yellow summer jumpsuit.

“Can I help you?” he asks, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Joanie tilts her head to the side, her sweet smile curling into something mischievous, her eyes glistening in a way that leaves Eddie shuddering at the thought he is in fact, looking in the goddamn mirror.

“Can I tell you a joke?” she says more than asks as she clasps her hands behind her back and rocks on her bare heels.

Her cheeks flush and yep – Eddie thinks he might know where this is going...

He leans on his elbow and cranes his neck to listen out for the person who surely put Joanie up to this, all the while keeping a close watch on his daughter. His eyes narrow as he catches a whispered chiding being directed at one of the cats, followed up with a shuffling that sure as hell sounds like Steve’s old man slippers scuffing on the floorboards.

“Fine,” he replies, settling back down to turn his full attention to the resident comedian, adding a huff for good measure.

Joanie grins, too pleased with herself and Eddie gulps. He won’t be able to keep up this uninterested ruse much longer if the little bean before him is going to continue looking that adorable.

“Ummm… Where do… penguins…” she begins, tearing her big eyes away as she musters up everything she can to recall the joke, twirling a lock of hair around her finger as she recites, “Where do penguins go to the movies?”

Eddie tosses the magazine aside to free himself up enough to fold his arms, desperate to stifle a whimper as he pea-brain takes him back to exactly where he had heard this one before.

“Wouldn’t have a clue,” he blurts out, lying.

“The dive-in!” Joanie beams, jumping with her arms wide open at the punchline.

She chuckles away through a toothy grin that quickly fades into a frown.

“Who told ya that one?” Eddie asks, knowing the answer.

Steve first told him this joke years ago, back in Hawkins when they first started kinda-sorta-not not dating and they went to the drive-in two towns over. Back when Eddie realised the Harrington Charm also involved many lame jokes that worked a little too well on him.

“No one,” she shrugs, turning to the hall.

They both look up to find Steve poking his head out from Joanie’s room.

“He didn’t laugh!” Joanie all but screams.

“What!” Steve replies in disbelief, stepping out into the open, “But that one’s a classic.”

[darknight3904]

so american

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴏɴ ᴠᴀᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴍᴀʟᴀʏꜱɪᴀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴍᴀʀʀʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ, ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ. ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ɪꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴇx ɢᴇɢᴇ ᴡʜʏ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇᴛ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴀʟᴀʏꜱɪᴀ??

ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ ꜱᴏ ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ ʙʏ ᴏʟɪᴠɪᴀ ʀᴏᴅʀɪɢᴏ.

ꜱᴏʀʀʏ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ….

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2ᴋ

ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Kuantan, Malaysia

Vacation Day 5:

"Your English is really great." You compliment

"Thank you, I spent a lot of time in my early twenties practicing." The man next to you says

The hot sun that dances above is blocked by a pretty blue umbrella that your new companion got to stand up correctly. A half-melted drink rests in the sand next to your bag.

You met Nanami on the first day of your vacation while you were struggling to communicate with the woman who was working at the front desk of your hotel. He had smoothly cut in and easily translated your choppy Malay to something more fluent and even got you a room upgrade in the process. Originally, you had just planned to buy him dinner as a thank you but here you were, day five of vacation and you were still hanging out with him.

"You look good like that." He compliments

"Like what?" You laugh thinking of how sunburned you were

"With my shirt on." He explains, reaching out to tug gently at the sleeve of his soft linen beach shirt. He had let you borrow it after seeing how red your shoulders had become.

"Oh, right, duh." You smile, avoiding his gaze.

Was he even aware of how flirtatious he had been the past few days? You swore his pretty face and warm compliments would turn you into a puddle of love-sick embarrassment before you left this country. He reminded you of one of those men you only hear about in books or in cheesy one lined poems about love.

"It's getting late. Would you like to go to get dinner? I know a great market nearby, it has delicious street vendors." He asks

"Sure!" You smile jumping up off your towel to pack up your things while Nanami pulls the umbrella out of the sand.

You struggle to slip out of his shirt, your shoulders are burning from the sunburn.

"Keep it. I've got another in the car." He says pulling it back up over you, " You look pretty in it anyway."

You're mesmerized by the blonde as he drives down the road. Warm air from the open windows pushes your hair from your eyes as you eye the way his arms flex slightly when he takes a turn.

"You're quiet today. Normally you're full of jokes." He says

Crap. You can't admit that you've been ogling him all day!

"I...my back has been hurting."

What the hell was that?!

"Ah. You should've told me earlier, we could've rented those chairs." He says, referring to the overpriced chairs that were for rent on the beach.

"It's alright. Those are just tourist traps anyway." You dismiss

"We're both tourists." He reminds you

"I know..." You roll your eyes

"Put your feet up, I heard that can help with pain."

Your face heats up when he stops the car at an intersection and gently pulls your feet up so they rest on the dashboard. So touchy, you swear he's doing all this on purpose!

"Better?" He asks

"Yup!" You smile

Silence settles around you as you try not to treat the man next to you like eye candy. In defense, it's not your fault. Who knew driving could be so attractive? It didn't help that he hadn't put that extra shirt on yet...

"Tell me a joke." He prompts

Who did he think you were, a stand-up comedian?

"Umm...Why did Darth Vader go to the dermatologist?" You ask

"Why?" Nanami responds, a hint of amusement in his voice

"He had Start Warts." You say

You hear him let out a snicker of laughter and you feel your face heat up out of embarrassment.

"It was the best I could do cold turkey okay!" You groan

Nanami had been right about the market and the street vendors. You had never seen so much delicious-looking food at once. How did he know so much about this place? According to him, he had only been in Kuantan two days before he met you.

"So," You smile as you pop a delicious bite of food into your mouth "Do you always look like this or is this a special version of Nanami?"

You're referring to his relaxed appearance. Long blonde hair slightly hides his eyes and the top view buttons of his shirt are undone. His skin is tanned from all the time spent on the beach at your side and a pair of sunglasses sit in the pocket that's sewn onto his shirt.

"I actually wear suits most of the time when I'm back home." He says

Seriously? He hides this muscular build under suits every day? The poor women of Japan, they don't know what they're missing!

"No way!" You laugh

"I'm serious." He says, and he takes his phone out and pulls up a few pictures of him and a kid with pink hair at his side.

"Wow. You uh, look..." You don't want to tell him he looks like he has a stick up his ass...

"Stoic, I know." He says "I like to think Itadori brightens this picture up though."

You look at the pink-haired boy, Itadori, who is holding up double peace signs and looks like a ray of sun next to the stoic Nanami.

"He definitely makes up for your lack of smile." You tease, poking at his cheek as he brushes your hand off his face

"Well, I had good reason to not smile. The person taking this picture is the most- speak of the devil."

A chime interrupts his sentence and you look down at the phone to see a push notification.

Satoru Gojo

Shoko is going through old pics, check this one out, you were so cute, Nanamin!

Another ding sounds and your eyes widen to see a picture appear at the top of the screen.

Nanami tries to snatch his phone off the table but you get there first and open the message from this Satoru Gojo.

"Is this you in high school?!" You gasp seeing the picture in all its glory as you tap on it

You take the blushing and silence as a yes.

"Your bangs!" You laugh

"I know, it's bad. I don't know what I was thinking." He admits sheepishly

"I think it's kinda cute." You admit, "It kinda reminds me of an emo haircut."

"I wasn't emo." He says

"You sure? Those bangs aren't very convincing..." You laugh "Not to metnion you're not smiling here either...kinda seems emo to me!"

"I wasn't!" He groans, finally reaching successfully for his phone "I wasn't emo...I'm not emo."

You laugh at the way he texts this Satoru Gojo back with a scowl on his face.

"You should tell this person my opinions of your hair." You say

"So he can call me an emo when I get back? I don't think so. Nice try though." Nanami says gently tapping his shoe against yours under the table

Vacation Day 6:

You agree to Nanami's suggestion of a nice stroll through the lit-up city. City lights twinkle against the dark sky as you see the shops and karts selling different goods. You pick up the goofiest-looking plushies and make up different voices for each of them as Nanami watches and laughs.

"Wait, stop for a second." He says suddenly

"Hmm? Do you want one of those weird charms? They don't really seem like they're your style." You say, distracted by the store he's stopped you in front of.

A soft tickle on your leg brings your attention downward and you see something you're not expecting. Nanami is down on one of his knees tying the laces on your left sneaker. His blonde hair is brushing your knee as he finishes up.

"I didn't want you to trip." He says gently patting the back of your calf as he straightens back up

"Oh, thank you." You say, trying to ignore how warm his hands felt against your leg.

You're a mess internally as you try to keep cool when he continues to walk. If he keeps this up you're going to end up in love with him before this trip was over...wait...has that been his goal the whole time? It couldn't possibly be.

"Could I ask you a question?" Nanami asks when you finally get yourself together

"Sure." You say

"Are those red cups I see in movies actually a real thing where you come from?"

That's his question? Why would Solo cups not be a real thing?

"Umm of course!" You laugh at his dorky question, "Did you think they were fake?"

"I just thought it was strange that everyone drank from red cups at parties." He shrugs

"Well, for your information, Nanami I've been to multiple parties and drank from a red cup like in the movies." You say

"Interesting." He says, his body gently bumping into yours when you get a little too close, "You can call me Kento."

"I thought in Japan you were supposed to call a person by their last name." You say

"Well, yes that's for formality." He says, "I think we're familiar with each other though, we've been around each other for six full days now."

"Alright then, Kento." You smile, testing his first name out on your tongue

You want to laugh when Kento drags you into a tie shop. He must want something fun to wear to work when he gets home. You suggest multiple different kinds that are ridiculous and would probably get him fired. Your personal favorite? The one with the huge eagle with a snake in his talons. It was just too ridiculous to be real. Honestly it reminded you of things you'd see back home. It was just missing the signature red white and blue.

"Here, switch places with me." Kento says as you exit the store and get back on the sidewalk

"What? Okay." You agree

You don't miss the way he smiles to himself when he gets what he wants. Does he have a preferred side of the sidewalk or something? Who enjoys being on the side closer to the road? What a weird man.

Vacation Day 7:

"You're really strange sometimes." You observe

"How so?" He asks as he bites into a cookie

"You were fully content just wandering into my hotel room. What if I was an axe murderer?" You ask

It was a rainy day in Kuantan. There were road closures and a few downed trees nearby so you had invited Kento to spend the day with you in your hotel room. The two of you were wrapped in fuzzy bathrobes and had just polished off an excellent room service meal that he had insisted on paying for despite you insiting that it was payment for driving you around.

"I knew you weren't though." He says

"And if I was?" You ask

"I would be disappointed and then I'd try to fight you and your axe off." He says

"What if I was too strong?" You joke

"I doubt it." He laughs as he flexes one of his arms.

There isn't much to look at because of the bathrobe that conceals his arms from your greedy eyes but you swear you can see a bit of definition under all the fuzzy material.

"Whatever..." You mumble

His stupidly pretty face is making you say dumb things. Who talks about axe murderers with such a good looking man in their bed? You were surely the biggest idiot in all of Malaysia.

"I thought you said this was a good movie," Kento says

"It is! You just need to give it a chance!" You say

"We're already ten minutes in and the only jokes they've made are about sex and drugs." Kento points out

"Okay, but...look you just have to trust me okay!" You say looking at your laptop which is playing Superbad, a film Kento hasn't ever seen

"There is more to humor than just bad sex jokes." He says

"Well, not in this movie. Now hush." You say unpausing the movie

Kento Nanami's eyes drift over you as you're mesmerized by this movie. Sure there were funny moments but he had definitely seen better.

Besides, how could he focus on some old 2000s movie when he was too distracted by you? You look too cute for words in the hotel's bathrobe and there's even a bit of chocolate smeared on your face from the Hershey kisses you had pulled out of your bag and insisted he try earlier.

His eyes rake over you and your entire room in general. A pair of blue jeans haphazardly sits on the chair across the room. He can see the American flag-printed sunglasses you wore the other day sitting on the nightstand beside a few stray hair ties. An oversized bag of chips you had brought from back home is half eaten on the bed near his feet, he didn't even know they made bags that large.

He swore you were some walking stereotype of things he didn't even know were real outside movies. To top it all off he's pretty sure you're wearing a "New York Yankees Baseball" t-shirt underneath your robe.

"You're so American."

The words tumble from his mouth before he can stop them

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?" You ask, clearly a bit offended by his words

"Nothing, nothing." He laughs at the way your eyebrows knit together in confusion

"Tell me!" You groan reaching out to punch at his arm.

He easily catches it and pulls you into his side.

"Nothing. You're just really American." He smiles as he wraps an arm around you

You let out a huff of annoyance that he finds cute.

"Whatever, Kento. Maybe you're just too Japanese." You dismiss as you rest your head on his chest.

He lets out a hum of amusement and just accepts the way you send a mean pinch to his upper thigh. The pain is barely there but he laughs when you gently rub at the spot as a form of apology.

He's never been more glad that he came to Kuantan. He can't wait to visit more corners of the world, hopefully with you at his side. Yes, he's sure he wants to be around you even more, even if you're loud in stores, drink out of red cups, and wear baseball themed shirts. Sure, you might be oh-so-American to everyone else but he loves every bit of it.

Was that a cringe ending? I hope it wasn't.

As an american, I tried to think of stereotypes to put into this fic and struggled. IS that a sign I'm blind to them? Probably. Oops.

Yes, I'm still working on my Gojo fic. Have some Nanami while you wait. Consider this my formal apology for what I did to him in the Gojo fic...

My Masterlist

[literaila]

verity what would you think about writing another peter x reader in which peter becomes a photographer and has to take pictures of reader and he develops a thing for her and he thinks that reader just flirts with him for fun and he's totally okay with that because he's a fool for her but after teasing peter and messing with him for a good amount of time she asks him out ? maybe inspired by "suck it and see" by arctic monkeys? thank you !!

chemistry

tasm!peter x fem!reader

a/n: the science jokes are real with this one

*

peter needed to get over himself. that much was clear.

honestly, he had the ability to rip out his eyes and throw them down the garbage disposal, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that he might have to. just to get some sanity back.

it wasn’t really his fault he was staring at you. no, it wasn’t his fault at all.

he was getting paid to stare at you. you had hired him to do this. to take pictures of you when you looked like this—partially glowing from the light, wearing a devious smile like you might be trying to crack his lens—and not get called a pervert for it.

his movements were automatic now. he’d done this enough—admired strangers and tried to pull the best out of them—but it was never quite like this. with every click of a button, and the perfectly adjusted flash, peter felt himself getting a bit hazy.

it would be his luck to faint while taking pictures of a pretty girl.

a pretty girl who’s head was tilted at him, eyes questioning, because she’d just said something and he was too busy scolding himself to notice

get yourself together.

“hmm?” peter asked, moving a step closer to you. “sorry i missed it.”

you smile like he’s said something funny. “should i try something else?” you say, “i’m not used to posing.”

“you’re doing great. you’re a natural.”

maybe a little too great. you blink at him, eyes darting away and sigh. even then, if peter took a photo, he’s sure it would come out perfectly. he probably wouldn’t need to edit any of these, even.

but he also probably would. just to stare at you some more.

“well, you’re the expert.”

but peter frowns. “are you feeling uncomfortable?”

“just—“ you shake your head. “will you tell me a joke, or something? i feel… awkward. i have no idea what i’m doing.”

“tell you a joke?” peter repeats, slightly amused.

“or just talk to me. anything.”

“sure,” he says, easily, nodding his head a bit too much. maybe it’s because you sort of whispered it, and peter sort of felt it on every single on of his nerve endings. “i, um,” he raises his brows. “i think i just forgot every joke i’ve ever heard.”

you laugh with your head tilted back and he snaps a shot. “just tell me about you, then.”

“me?”

“yes, peter parker, the photographer… and? part time comedian? full time alcoholic? father of six?”

peter frowns. “how old do you think i am?“

“old enough to be a professional photographer.”

“i don’t know if i would call myself a professional…” he winces, smiling a bit and feeling embarrassed for himself. flushed and completely ashamed because he’s usually better at this.

he can calm a clients nerves in five minutes. he can make people laugh and get the candid shot that he knows they’re looking for. he can turn an awkward social interaction into getting drinks after a shoot.

but there’s something about you and your smile, and the easy way you talk, like the words just fall out of your mouth and into place.

“i saw your prints,” you correct, shaking your head at him, “why do you think i hired you?”

“free eye candy?”

and then you actually laugh, chest releasing, and peter watches as your eyes squint at him like you’ve finally realized who you’re talking to.

it’s second nature when he presses the button.

“oh, yeah. i just googled ‘hottest male photographer in queens’ and yours was the first that came up.”

“i knew that ad would pay off eventually.”

“really, though. i’ve only got you for another twenty minutes so you’ve gotta tell me something good.”

peter frowns and moves to your left, changing the zoom on his camera and dimming the light. “i didn’t know you were paying for a gossip session.”

“okay, so you don’t like to talk about yourself. what else?”

he catches you as you adjust your hair, the light shining on the side of your face, gleaming off of you like something out of a sci-fi film.

peter shakes his head—his head is feeling a bit off. “um… i want to get a cat.”

you smile, completely darling and enough to knock a breath out of his chest. “i’ll add caring to the list. why haven’t you?”

“well, my apartment doesn’t really allow it…” he pauses for a moment playing with some settings. the two of you are dancing in circles, like a pendulum, when you move, he moves. “and also i’m not sure that i’d remember to feed it.”

“most animals make sure you remember. when i was a kid my dog would jump on whoever was closest when it was time for dinner.”

peter almost winces, and then catches himself. “i also think i’d poison it with my energy. it’d forget how to move its tail.”

“well, i’ve been around you for almost an hour and a half now and i can safely say that i still have control over all of my limbs.”

“good to know…” peter mutters while frowning at his screen. there’s nothing wrong with his camera, or with you, just with his hands. and his heart.

“everything okay?”

he shakes his head, then nods, clearing his throat. “yeah—yeah. i’m just messing with the settings.”

“are you getting anything good? useable?”

“they’re all good,” he says—to himself and out loud like a complete idiot. and then he looks up, awkwardly laughing. “like i said, you’re a natural.”

“even if you’re lying,” you tease, undeterred by his awkwardness, “i’m sure you’ll fix it all before i see.”

“i’m not lying, but yeah.”

when you smile, he smiles back.

“okay,” you say, moving. “what else? got any friends or family? any plans after this?”

“which question am i supposed to answer?”

“all of them, peter.”

he chuckles. “it’s mostly just me and my aunt. and a couple of long lost cousins. as for friends, i’ve kept in touch with some people from college. oh, and me and the john down the street who makes me a sandwich everyday are close.”

you lift your head, revealing the skin of your neck and jaw to peter. and a fetish he didn’t know he had. “and after this?”

“i’ll probably just go home and edit these, actually.”

“it’s friday.”

he shrugs. squinting at you before the next shot. he’s not even really looking.

“nothing fun?” you ask him. “surely you’ll be sick of my face after this.”

“that’d be hard.”

he watches a sheepish smile reveal itself on your face before it’s gone. you look away. “you’re young, peter. you should be having fun.”

“what are you doing after this?” peter asks, as a challenge.

your brows lift. “this seems like a line.”

he laughs. “not like that.”

you shrug and blink when the flash goes off. “i’ll figure out something. are there any good bars nearby?”

peter pauses, dropping his camera. “are we back to the alcoholic thing.”

“no,” you laugh, “we’re way past that. i just think that your flash is giving me a bit of an adrenaline rush. i could use a calm me down.”

“you okay?”

“i’m kidding, peter. keep going, you’re almost a free man.”

so he does.

you continue to prod him with personal questions, attacking him with your smile and your unsurprisingly sharp wit. you throw his words right back to him, and peter knows, in his deepest of thoughts, that he’s going to be hearing your voice later on.

that when he’s looking back on these pictures, he’s going to see a timeline of your allure, and of his own demise.

he’s already loving and dreading it.

he finishes up by making you laugh from your nose, loud and unprecedented, and so genuinely rewarding that peter has to refrain from clapping himself on the back.

you smile at him as you slip on your jacket, still talking to him, acting too smooth to be just polite.

peter also has to refrain himself from trying to shake your head as he walks you to the door. he tries not to stare any longer, knowing what kind of night he has in store.

“when should i be seeing the pictures?” you ask him, lingering when you finally get to the door.

“sometime next week. i’ll email you a preview with a few different editing styles that you can pick from and then i’ll finish the album.”

“email?”

he scoffs, opening the door for you. “i’ll have you know that not everyone is as young and hip as you. do you know how many grandparents want photos with their family?”

“it just doesn’t seem like you, peter. i’d thought you’d train a carrier pigeon.”

he shakes his head at you, trying to hide his smile.

“but, seriously, thank you so much,” you say to him, voice full and easy, and honest. he can feel your heart and smell your perfume. “i know i’m a lot. especially when i’m nervous.”

“i’m just glad you didn’t ask me about my social security number.”

you reflectively smack yourself on the forehead. “i knew i forgot something.”

peter laughs, letting you slip past him trying to avoid your touch. he doesn’t, and if benjamin franklin was there, he might’ve discovered a whole different type of electricity.

“i’ll talk to you soon,” peter says, and your close enough that it’s almost a whisper. “just let me know if there’s any issues with the pictures, or you have any questions. you’ve got my number.”

“i do.”

his body feels physically repelled from inside the studio, but he forces himself to take a step in anyway. “have a good weekend.”

“you too.”

and then you turn to go, and peter can’t help but stare. he hopes that the tint on the shop windows is enough to keep you from noticing.

but before he can close the door—and mind that it took him an outrageously stupid amount of time—you’re turning back around.

“wait, peter,” you say, voice breathless and jagged. like peters hands as they rush to push open the door again.

it’s embarrassing how quickly he manages to do it.

“yes?”

you smile, like you know exactly what he’s thinking. peter will have that smile branded into his brain.

“do you wanna come with me to get that drink?” you ask him, softly, and wide, with a smile that bursts blood vessels.

peter really needs to get over himself.

*

[70sscifiart]

The Last-Minute Sci-Fi Gift Guide

There's only one thing worse than procrastinating on getting gifts for your loved ones, and that's procrastinating on putting together a guide to help out everyone else with all those gifts. It's Dec 12, so you can decide for yourself which I'm doing.

Art book: Worlds Beyond Time, $32

If you follow this blog, you might have heard of this one. I published Worlds Beyond Time: Sci-Fi Art of the 1970s this year after five years of work on it, and I think it's really good! 400+ images, 100+ artists, with lots of fun art history and jokes.

Also, it's just $20 right now if you order through my publisher and use the code SKIPTHELINE! Cheapest it's ever been!

Card game: Coup, $14

In this "social deduction" card game, you play as a government official in a future dystopia who needs to backstab their way into power. Everyone starts out with just two cards in this bluffing game, so the tide can turn pretty quick when players start assassinating each other's cards. The fast pace makes it a good gift for someone who loves spies but thinks they don't like card games.

Game to play over Zoom: Bad Spaceships, $3

If a bluffing game stresses you out, try Bad Spaceships: It's a collaborative world-building game in which you roll dice to see what area of your spaceship connects to another, forcing you to spitball exactly why this is the case. As the game puts it, you might fix the hull by playing Tetris, or charge your weapons in the swimming pool. You're basically getting weird prompts to tell a story that can evolve over the course of the game.

It's such an indie game that it comes as PDFs you download from itch.io, but you can play it just as well over Zoom, if you're looking for an excuse to catch up with your old digital nomad college friend.

Movies/TV: Streaming service gift card

Gift cards are all well and good, but you can personalize them by recommending a few of your favorite shows as well. I suggest:

Hulu: Cowboy Bebop

Apple TV+: Severance

Criterion Channel: Ravenous, Paprika, Strange Days

Paramount+: Yellowjackets

Amazon Prime: The Devil's Hour

But to be honest, this entry is just an excuse to talk about the new Max show Scavenger’s Reign. Inspired by the work of French artist Moebius and with a clear debt to famed 70s animated film Fantastic Planet, this stylish sci-fi show features a bunch of humans trying to survive on a beautiful but hostile alien world. Perfect for lovers of fictional nature.

Vintage sci-fi

This Etsy shop has some good stuff, like the 1971 Frank Kelly Freas NASA poster above, a bit of history that I even mentioned on page 167 of my art book.

Penguin science fiction postcards, $28

These postcards have a ton of very cool sci-fi covers I've blogged in the past – great value if you want a lot of art for a low cost.

Meteorite pendant necklace, $34

I think we all know what kind of rock your loved ones need around their neck: A chunk of meteorite straight out of the 1576 Argentinan meteorite fall.

Book recs

For astronauts: Packing for Mars by Mary Roach, The New Guys: The Historic Class of Astronauts That Broke Barriers and Changed the Face of Space Travel by Meredith Bagby

For comedians: Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir, Even Greater Mistakes: Short Stories by Charlie Jane Anders 

For sleuths: Six Wakes by Mur Lafferty, Drunk on All Your Strange New Words by Eddie Robson

For crafters: Knits of Tomorrow: Toys and Accessories for your Retro-Future Needs

For the resistance fighters: The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley, An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

For slasher movie fans: Clown in a Cornfield by Adam Cesare

Syd Mead "Biomorph Vehicle" button down shirt, $49

T-shirts aren't classy enough for the world's coolest visual futurist, Syd Mead. I haven't actually bought this incredibly odd shirt, but I really need to.

Art prints (and more) from 70s sci-fi artists

Artist shops can be surprisingly hard to track down on the internet, but here's a short list of ones I've come across. All of these artists are featured in my book (except one), so you can read up on them before you commit to a print.

Michael Whelan 

John Harris

Syd Mead

Don Maitz

David B Mattingly

Peter Andrew Jones - Jones was one of just a few artists who declined to be included in my art book, but he has a distinct, colorful style that I would have loved to have featured!

Finally, here's one extra bonus, just for everyone who made it to the end of this article: The UK-based educational charity Centre for Computing History sells three big officially licensed John Harris posters featuring these three artworks, famous for their use as covers for Sinclair programming manuals.

It's a great deal that I've never seen mentioned anywhere, and Harris' work has a timeless quality that makes it great for an unassuming wall decoration. If you're outside the UK, the shipping costs will be a pain, but there's no better deal for a classic sci-fi poster.

[diremoone]

Occupational Hazard | Pedro Pascal.

Note(s): Comedian! Reader, Large but Legal Age Gap (MC is 30+), Female Reader, mentions of assault and injury, Pedro and MC are engaged 💍 (also, more often than not, when you ask for no salt on the fries at a fast food place (where I’m at anyway), the fries are always hot and fresh), wrote this in a span of, like, two days so it’s not proofread! enjoy!

Summary: Being a successful comedian, you’ve made all sorts of jokes, especially ones at your own expense. But not everyone has the same sense of humor, and Pedro finds out how dangerous some of these people who find your jokes “offensive” are.

****

Pedro hadn’t expected your text message so late. He had just gotten home an hour prior, tired and exhausted. But after his shower, he heard the ding of the two minute reminder on his phone. He plucks his phone from the charge and reads: Would you be available right now? To pick me up? Had an incident tonight.

He’s dressed and out the door not even five minutes later, wet hair slicked back away from his face so his glasses wouldn’t get wet.

It unfortunately takes him thirty minutes to get to the comedy club where you were scheduled to have an event, much much longer than he wanted. But when he arrives, he’s ushered in by the guards that already know him and the fact you and him are in a relationship.

A female guard in plain clothes is waiting for him the moment he steps through the doors, more than likely the one who informed the ones outside you had sent for him and to let Pedro through.

A couple of twists and turns down some hallways and he’s at the stage where you do your work.

He grimaces to himself, and his heart fills with worry and concern.

Not even five seconds upon entering the room did your eyes lock onto his form, his presence something you’ve always noticed immediately regardless of his quiet he was — always seemed to know when he walked into a room, your soul practically locked onto his own.

When the doctor pulls away, finishing her job, Pedro sees the damage done: a full black eye that would be shut for several days and a split lip, with a nose almost broken with a dot of dried blood at your nostril. You’d probably have to go to the hospital in a day or two to have that checked out to make sure it healed properly.

Everyone pulls away from you like opposing magnets, leaving the room to give you both some privacy. He’s glad. He also doesn’t want them to see him pissed off, because he was almost fucking livid.

He pulls a chair from where the crowd sits and places it in front of you. You give him a smile through the pain, and he wants to kiss you so bad but your lip is split damn it—

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Hey yourself,” he whispers back, trying to smile back and not be angry. One hand is laced between the fingers of your left hand that has that pretty diamond engagement ring on it, his other cupping your cheek on the side that doesn’t have a black eye and rubbing your skin fondly. “What happened, baby?”

You shrugged. “Not everyone has the same kind of humor.”

Pedro raises his brows. “Meaning?”

You inhale heavily, releasing an equally heavy exhale.

“A guy got pissed at a deadbeat dad joke I made,” you said. “I guess he fit the criteria, knew it, and got pissed. Felt called out, I guess.”

His eyes go wide with shock. “You serious?”

“Yeah,” you admit. You run your thumb over the skin of his hand and continue, “I think I’m gonna cancel my next three shows.”

Pedro’s against it the second the words leave your mouth. “You can’t be serious?”

“I am.” You give him a face, one he recognizes easily: you’re not going to budge, and there’s no point in him arguing. “I think he universe might be telling me to take a break.”

He nods his head in agreement. “Yeah, you’ve been going as hard as me lately. I’m starting to think this line of work is more dangerous than what I do.”

You slap his shoulder in a light and childish manner. “Oh, shut up. You do a lot more taxing work than I do.”

“But you’ve done a lot more shows than you have in the last, what, year?” Pedro argues this time. “That’s a fucking lot. Not even I’m sure I could handle that much moving around the states so fast.”

You jab back, “That’s why I pack lightly, baby.”

He laughs. “Har har. Got me there…” Pedro leans forward and presses a kiss to the side of your temple. “I love you, mi princesa.”

You giggle, warmth flooding to your cheeks at Pedro’s affection and soft declaration of love for you.

You almost get to say it back, but he grins cheekily because he already knows and proceeds to ask, “Want some McDonald’s?”

You stand to your feet immediately. “I want two twenty piece McNuggers, two fries without salt, and a big-ass Sprite.”

“You eat too damn much.” Pedro snorts, smiling ear-to-ear. “And you and your no-salt on the fries, I swear.”

“It’s better that way!” you reply, mock offended. “And you get them fresh, too! That salt isn’t any good for high blood pressure anyway.”

“Whatever you say,” he remarks. “So, McDonald’s in the car, go home, shower, and cuddle with a movie on until we fall asleep?”

You love him — absolutely and positively love him. This man knows how to make your bad days better like the back of his hand.

“Sounds perfect.”

You’re so glad to have him. You’re the luckiest woman in the world, no doubt, to call such a perfect man yours.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: comedian steve.... That is all comedian Steve making fun of his trauma (his non existent relationship with his parents, his loss of hearing and near blindness due to head trauma Drew Lynch-style) & Eddie his husband watching from the audience seeing his man be hilarious, joyful and playful with the crowd & at the end of the show he thanks the crowd & his sweet husband who is also in the crowd for being the best audience

MY LOVE!!! Honestly I REALLY loved this concept. I am not a comedian, so this was a challenge for sure. I hope this hits all the best parts of the request! - Mickala ❤️

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

“Please welcome to the stage…Steeeeeeve Harringtoooooon!”

The audience of nearly 10,000 cheered as he took the stage, waving at the people he could barely see with the lights in his face.

One of his requirements for performing was orange lights instead of LED ones, but for his special, he had to make adjustments.

It was one of the things he was most nervous about.

That and the fact that this crowd was the largest audience he’d ever been in front of.

Most people did their comedy special recordings in smaller theaters, maxed out at 2500 people.

But he knew the demand was high, and he loved being on stage in front of people, so he insisted on an arena.

There were at least four cameras in his direct line of sight, stationary to record the entire set from every angle. Two circled the side stage and one was backstage as backup for any close ups that needed to be arranged.

It felt weird, but he was excited to finally get the chance to do this.

“Hello! Hi everyone! Okay, okay, we get it! My hearing aid has feedback, let’s take a second before I end up worse than I started,” he half-joked.

The crowd slowed in their clapping, their laughter echoing instead.

He continued with his usual welcome, but took a moment to explain the recording of the special, that it would be a longer show than usual and may end up having a couple of breaks throughout for the camera people to make sure they’ve got what they need.

“It’s a bit of a drag, but you know what else is a drag? Not even being able to see most of these people with the cameras.” He paused for a moment to squint out at the crowd. “As you can imagine, having a series of concussions in a short time period makes a person have some issues, least of which is trying to determine if it’s a person behind the camera or a cryptid. If it’s a cryptid, I assume you’d all tell me. I know my husband would. Everyone say ‘hi, Eddie!’”

The entire audience yelled it out, and Steve focused his sights on Eddie sitting with the kids on the closest suite balcony to him.

“I can’t even tell if that’s you, baby. But if it isn’t, I hope you don’t get mad that I just called someone else baby. You know if you’re more than eight feet from me there’s a good chance I’m going home with someone else on accident.” He heard everyone laughing, but the arena was large and he couldn’t pinpoint Eddie’s laugh over everyone. “Actually, let me talk about that for a second. Eddie plays in a metal band for fun, which is not kind to the ears, but thankfully, I can shut my hearing aids off.” He smirked. “And usually he plays at small bars and clubs. It’s super easy for me to be a groupie because no one in those bars has a sense of humor.”

The crowd laughs as he continues his story about the time he lost a contact at a show and started holding hands with someone who was very much not Eddie.

“...I hope Chris is doing well. He never returned my calls.” He can hear booing from where Eddie is sitting. “As you can tell, my husband isn’t a big fan of that one.”

He moves through his set easily, forgetting about the people, the cameras, even able to focus on a spot where the lights aren’t quite as blinding.

Someone signals him at the one hour mark to let him know they need to review a few shots before continuing, so he lets the audience know they have time to take a bathroom break.

He moves backstage and grabs some Tylenol from his bag. He knows what’s coming and if he can just try to wrap this all up with a nice bow, he can go back to the hotel with Eddie and sleep for the next 12-16 hours before they fly home.

He made the mistake of checking Twitter. He pretty much only went on there to announce things like his tours or pop-up shows, but he occasionally scrolled when he was trying to kill time.

He got tagged in posts often, usually pictures from shows or people meeting him on the street. He liked seeing people enjoying his comedy.

But he did get the rude people, too.

There were the usual homophobic people, the religious cult people who thought he should die because he had a husband. He ignored those easily.

There were the people who didn’t think he was funny and frequently said so as loudly as possible because it made them sleep better, maybe.

But then there were the people who didn’t think he should get to make a living making jokes about his own disabilities. Most of these people did not have any of the same disabilities he lived with, so he didn’t pay much attention.

Except when it was a series of brand new Tweets that were from someone in the audience.

Oh boy.

It wasn’t great.

He could ignore it. He should ignore it. But he wouldn’t.

He was told they were ready to go when he was, so he pocketed his phone and went back onstage.

The crowd cheered again.

He pulled out his phone and sat down on the stool they provided him.

“So! Normally during this part of the show, I tell a story about the time I was babysitting and I had a seizure and the kid called 911 and told them I shit myself. His words, not mine. I also hadn’t done that, I think he just wanted an excuse to say it. But it does seem like there’s someone here tonight who just isn’t very happy about the jokes I tell.”

The crowd booed, not at him, but with him and he knew Eddie was probably sitting on the edge of his seat at this change in his routine.

“Now, forgive me, because my parents weren’t great at being parents and I am self-taught when it comes to manners, but I do believe this is gonna be a bit of a call out and if the person here didn’t want attention they wouldn’t have put it on a very public form of social media and tagged me. Already sorry to this dude for what’s coming, but also not too sorry because you fucked up.”

He sighed as he opened up the app again and started reading the Tweets.

“Steve Harrington’s only material relies on how disabled he is, which is insulting to people who have disabilities. He stands up on a stage and makes fun of himself- okay wait. I have to stop here for a second because you do know that’s what comedy is, right? I mean, it’s more than that, too, but it’s about finding humor in your own life. That’s kinda the point.” He sighed. “Continuing on. Makes fun of himself as if he may not even be disabled. He doesn’t sound like someone struggling with anything. Also can’t imagine his husband is too happy hearing about how he doesn’t even recognize him.”

Steve looked out at the audience and sighed into the microphone.

“There’s a few more but you get it. And I do see this kind of stuff often, so it doesn’t bother me much anymore. But what gets me is that by trying to insinuate that I am insulting other disabled people, you’re insulting them and myself by suggesting that they can’t have a sense of humor about their disabilities. Humor is how I handle my disabilities. I’m hard of hearing, severely vision impaired, I have seizures and chronic migraines that sometimes leave me with stroke symptoms. On really bad days, I walk with a limp because of an injury to my side and leg when I was a teenager. I understand what you think you’re doing with this, but you missed the mark. Anyone can make fun of themselves in any way they want to. I don’t generalize, or bring up other people without their consent. I find it refreshing to be able to talk about the humor that exists when I don’t recognize someone I’ve known for ten years because my vision is so shitty. And trust me, he does too.”

Steve put his phone back in his pocket and stood up.

“Actually, everyone be quiet for a second. Eddie, stand up. I won’t know when he does so someone tell me.”

He looked in the direction of where he knew Eddie would be and saw just enough movement to know he was standing. Then he heard Dustin start cheering, and the crowd joined in.

“Alright. Now, Eddie here is disabled in other, equally fun ways. Wanna tell ‘em, baby?”

“First of all, I lost a nipple! I only have one nipple!” Eddie yelled.

“Eds, that’s not a disability. I’ve told you this.”

“I’ll never be able to breastfeed our children, Stevie.”

Steve facepalmed onstage, only allowing this to continue because the crowd was hysterical.

“Alright, tell them the rest.”

“I have to walk with a cane because of injuries I’ve had to my side and leg. I have chronic pain because of those same injuries. And I lost my sense of smell, which isn’t so much a disability as an inconvenience, but it sure is a hell of an inconvenience.”

“So, I’m sure this person is just uncomfortable with people accepting their own disabilities. It’s not up to me to make you okay with it, it’s up to you. Also, you already bought your ticket to be here so I kind of win no matter what.”

The crowd was clapping and yelling, supporting him in the best way.

“Alright, enough about me, let’s talk more about me.”

The rest of his set was everything he’d been doing on his tour so far, and nothing out of the ordinary happened.

They had to reshoot one of the last jokes because the main camera stopped working halfway through, but luckily, the crowd found it just as funny the second time.

“Thank you all! You’ve been great! Not as great as my husband, but pretty damn close.”

The entire arena gave him a standing ovation, and he took a few extra seconds on stage to soak it in.

His first recorded special.

He looked up towards where he knew Eddie was.

He didn’t need good vision to know how much Eddie was smiling at him, how proud he was.

[sugurufic]

What are your thoughts on the reader and teen nanami attending an improv comedy show…

Oh this is so interesting! I am not funny, like at all, so please don't judge my terrible jokes T^T as always, its not proofread

Nanami, Haibara and you had a lot of fun planned for the weekend, but Haibara had to return home to his family. His sister had gotten a bad fever and he was worried sick about her.

So you and Nanami still went about the plans, going to the mall for some shopping and to the city center to eat, and then return to your respective dorms. The two of you hadn't hung out much without Haibara, his absence weighing you down. With Haibara it was easy to ignore how Nanami's presence made you feel, but now it was practically impossible, with him walking beside you in the mall, dressed in normie clothes.

"Hey ma'am, hey sir!" an attendant at the mall greeted you cheerfully. "We have a free of cost improv comedy session going on, would you care to join us?"

You have always loved improv comedy, watching videos on the internet, but you've never seen one in person. Besides, how bad could it get? It's not like you were wasting any money this way.

"Nanami, can we go, please?" you plead, batting your eyelashes at the blond man, who doesn't even argue.

"Thank you for joining us!" the attendant yells behind you.

"I really hope that it doesn't turn out to be a waste of time," Nanami says as you sit beside him. The room still has some empty seats, but it's a great news that there are people to see a new comedian.

"I don't think it will be," you say, scooting a little closer to him as the air conditioning sent a shiver under your skin.

The empty seats fill up quickly, and the lights are dimmed, waiting for the comedian to take the stage. You are unfamiliar with the man who comes on the stage, viewing his audience with a smile on his face. "Hey everyone! Thank you for being here. You really are helping me convince my parents that maybe I can pull this comedy thing off," He starts of with a jolly voice. "You know, after I wasted four years of my life on an engineering degree."

You chuckle, having heard something similar from plenty of comedians. the man looks over his audience, eyes flickering to a stop to someone on the other end of the room. "Oh, I have a young crowd with me. I really hope you don't get influenced by me. it's not my fault if your mum slaps you with a slipper for not wanting to go to college."

"How old even are you?" he asks the same person. "That young! Now I will feel guilty about making the jokes I had planned." The man shakes his head. "Anyways, you know I am not entirely upset that i did college. I now have more things to make jokes about. Anyone who did CS and now everyone is suddenly asking them to fix computers?"

A surprising number of people raise their hands, and you chuckle once again. Nanami fixes his bangs beside you, trying to hide his rolling eyes. But you know him too well to know what he's doing.

"My parents forbade from speaking to the opposite gender all throughout school. And now that I'm an engineer by degree, they want me to get married." He sighs. "You are too young to understand this. How many of you have partners?" a good number of people raised their hands. "And how many of parent's know?" most hands went down.

The comedian's eyes fall on the pair of you and he asks Nanami, "Hey, blond guy! Is that pretty lady your girlfriend?"

Your face heats up and you can barely look at Nanami, who has gone pink. "N-No," he manages to say.

"Your face tells me otherwise," the comedian laughs. "For those of you who cannot see, Mr. Blond Guy has turned red. The lady seems flustered too. You two did come together, right? Or did I just embarrass two strangers sitting next to each other."

"We go to the same school," You manage to say, despite your flustered state. "And we're friends."

"Miss, maybe you should ask blond guy. He seems very shy." the comedian chuckles.

"I don't think I'm her type," Nanami mumbles in a small voice, and you give him the biggest side eye you have ever given to anyone.

"Judging by the lady's reaction, I'd say you are wrong, buddy." the man laughs. "See people, please tell your friends I helped set up a relationship. If any of your friends need a wingman, please join me on my next shows."

When you leave the mall, you walk together in silence, not even getting the courage to look at him. But you bite down your fears and say, "What gave you the impression that you aren't my type?" You still don't look at him, but your hands are in front of you, trying to grasp the air. "Because then I'd have to fix that. You are exactly my type."

Oh no, you think. You may have spoken to much. "Please ignore what I just said if you don't like me back."

"I do," Nanami softy says, and you whip you head towards him, seeing a rare smile on his face. His cheeks are still dusted a light shade of pink and he looks so cute you could kiss him. "I never thought you could like me like that."

"OH you blind man," you sigh, intertwining your fingers when his hand reaches for yours. "Let's just do this again later, okay?"

"Okay," Nanami says, the smile not leaving his face.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Interaction with the Hunt family: "Um, I have a question. Are you guys aliens who are planning world domination and if yes, is Rook your leader?"

(no, idk why i wrote this prompt either.)

[If you want to see a silly theory on the Hunt siblings and some doodles of them, check out this post!]

I still stand by my opinion that the Hunt family is a bunch of international spies and/or assassins or something wild like that 😂

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

Uncanny.

That was the only way you could describe the Hunts.

Rook and his five siblings—brothers and sisters—squished up against one another on one of Pomefiore’s lounge sofas. Seated so close like this, the similarities between their faces were even more pronounced.

Between them and the parents, they all boasted the same sharp eyes, the same flaxen locks, and the same deceptively willowy physiques. It was as though Rook had been refracted in seven different sizes and styles of dress. One Rook for each dorm, Ramshackle included.

Mrs. Hunt chuckled at your question, her eyes immediately sliding over to her husband. She said something in a tongue unknown to you. It earned tittering from her children, and a mysterious smile from Rook.

He caught your curious stare and held it. "Maman lauds your unique sense of humor, Trickster!"

You wondered if she had actually said, "They're onto us." Everything personal seemed to be half truths and avoidance with Rook—and even those that shared his blood.

“Mother speaks many languages,” one of the Hunt siblings offered. Which one it was, you couldn’t tell. “We all do.”

“Right. As part of your intergalactic plan to conquer Twisted Wonderland.”

Mr. Hunt grinned broadly, as if containing a laugh himself. “Us, aliens bent on world domination? No, nothing of the sort. We’re a perfectly normal family, I assure you.”

It was a familiar deflection, you realized, straight from Trey’s book. “I’m just an ordinary high school boy.”

"I don't know if I entirely believe you, sir," you said slowly. “I don’t know if I believe any of you.”

Mr. Hunt’s forest green eyes twinkled with amusement. “Then we should confess to our treason now. Perhaps law enforcement will be so merciful as to grant us lighter sentences for turning ourselves in.”

The Hunts all bursted out into peals of laughter. They clung onto one another for support, hooting and hollering as they doubled over on the sofa.

“Papa thinks himself a comedian!”

Was that really a joke though? You squinted hard at the group. “… Excuse me, but let me be more direct. What exactly do you guys do for a living? I heard you have villas with warp pads in many countries, and that’s super sus—”

"Such interesting school friends you have, Rook,” Mrs. Hunt mused.

“Yes, very interesting indeed,” her husband agreed.

“Very interesting! So very interesting,” the Hunt siblings chorused.

“Ooh la la~ It seems you’ve captured the attention of the entire famille,” Rook chirped, leaning forward in his seat. “Fufufu. I’m certain they’d love to hear more about your curious mind and the imaginative impossibilities it crafts.”

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Okay, so. Yesterday I made a post that promised a fairly quick follow-up, but then I got so anxious about the situation that I deliberately ignored it for an entire weekend. Luckily there were ample distractions in the form of NextUp streams from Edinburgh and pictures on the internet of John Oliver performing at The Stand in the Year Of Our Lord 2024. What a time to be alive. It’s been quite a weekend. I’ve watched some excellent comedy shows, a few shit comedy shows, so I can now say I’ve had a more well-rounded Edinburgh experience, that’s all good. And now that I’ve let the initial surprise from yesterday morning sink in for a day, I can go back to it.

To explain what happened, I need to bring up another previous post I’ve made, this one from about six weeks ago. I was going to make this a reblog of that post because it’s basically an update to it, but that whole post is so long and talks about some things that aren’t relevant here. So instead, I’ll just copy-paste the relevant bits from this post that I made in mid-July, after listening to The Bugle episode 4311, which had just come out:

The reason I’m writing this post is to call attention to this exchange, from fairly early into the episode: Andy Zaltzman: I’d like the Republican Party to become a serious political organization again. That’s right up there with my absolute top pipe dreams, along with eternal peace; guilt-free foie gras; a functioning rail network; compulsory lanyards for all – everywhere, all the time, so we don’t have to remember anyone’s name; a ceasefire in the culture wars – and an equitable and lasting ceasefire, not just one that bumps all the problems down the road, [cough] Versailles; competent top-level administration that safeguards the future of Test cricket for at least the next 4,000 years; and having a head like an orange. Those are my top pipe dreams. Chris Addison: [laughs] That’s a very, very good – very in-joke.

That is an excerpt from Bugle episode 4311, released on July 16 but recorded on July 15, 2024. Now I would like to draw your attention to an excerpt from a questionnaire that sketch comedy duo Zaltzman and Oliver filled out about their 2004 Edinburgh Festival show, published on BBC.co.uk on July 28, 2004: If the Edinburgh fairy could grant your wish, what would your wish for? AZ: A head like an orange. JO: A head like an orange.

Here’s the important thing about those two quotes: I have carefully combed through the entire individual and combined back catalogues of Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver, and I am pretty confident that those are the only two references ever made to having a head like an orange. This includes within the two sources – I have quoted the entire relevant passage both times, there is no context around it to explain what the hell they’re talking about. They made this joke one time in 2004, I read that questionnaire ages ago and wondered what they were talking about, and now they’d done it again, nearly exactly 20 years later. Like, within two weeks of being exactly twenty years later. And they will not tell us what they mean. Now, it is possible that I’m just forgetting something here. The fact that Chris Addison recognized the joke in 2024, and that it apparently originated in 2004, makes me wonder if it could have been from The Department, the radio show that Andy Zaltzman, John Oliver, and Chris Addison wrote and starred in together in 2004-2006. I’ve heard every episode of that show a few times each and I don’t remember anything about a head like an orange, but it was pretty dense writing so I could have missed it. The other possibility is that this is something from Political Animal, the stand-up night that Zaltzman and Oliver ran in London/in Edinburgh during the festival, starting in 2003. They’d host it and other comedians would come on to do exclusively political stand-up material, and I know Chris Addison was one of the people who performed there a lot in the early days (Andy, you need to re-start Political Animal in 2024, just so you can make Chris Addison do a set). Some of this got recorded for BBC Radio 4 as well, and there were a lot of weird Zaltzman and Oliver sketches that appeared in the radio show in between the guests, and someone having and/or wanting a head like an orange seems like the sort of thing that could have happened in one of those sketches. I don’t remember it happening, but it’s been a while since I’ve heard that show, so it could have been in there. Even if it never appeared on the radio show, my best guess for the origin of the Orange Mystery is that it was some inside joke from their many Political Animal live shows that didn’t get recorded.

I really want to know this now. I wanted to know before, that 2004 questionnaire is one of my favourite of the weird little Zaltzman and Oliver historical relics. But I want to know even more now that it’s been referenced for only the second ever that I can remember, twenty years later, and we have confirmation that Chris Addison knows what it means. But he’s not telling. And neither is Andy. I mean, they didn’t tell us, there. Didn’t say they’d never tell. I do pay The Bugle approximately $28/month – by far my most expensive monthly direct debit (well over twice the amount that I pay every month for any other one thing, besides, you know, rent and bills), even though I keep telling myself I need to be careful with money and should probably cancel that one because I can’t quite afford it, but I’ve taken so much free entertainment from Andy Zaltzman that it feels like the least I owe him. The point is that because I pay this much money, I am a premium subscriber who can access their monthly show in which Andy answers questions submitted by listeners. I just recently wrote a post about how I tend to be horrifically embarrassed by the thought of interacting with comedians I like, normally I’d never do this. But I’m thinking I might, in this case. It’s a reasonable question, isn’t it? Why does Andy Zaltzman want a head like an orange? I might send that in. Interacting with famous comedians does feel slightly more justified if I've paid for the privilege.

It originated way too early to be a Trump joke, no one was talking about his orange head in 2004. I keep trying to picture a head like an orange, in the hopes that that that will jog my memory of some other time when that image has been in my head, perhaps due to some other reference that I’d heard Zaltzman and Oliver make to it. But every time I think of it, all I can picture is the curious orange from This Morning with Richard Not Judy, and that’s not it. I have never heard Zaltzman and/or Oliver reference Lee and/or Herring, I can’t imagine they’d start with this. My only other vague guess is maybe a joke about the colour of Andy’s hair? But why? @lastweeksshirttonight @nyomkitten @bimwi, any of the Tumblr Buglers recognize this? Can any of you read this post and say, "How on Earth is Meerkats forgetting the very obvious [old Bugle episode in which they clearly explain their in-joke about a head like an orange, which I am somehow the only idiot who can't remember]?" Because if none of you tell me that's the case, then I'm emailing Andy Zaltzman to ask. Well, I'm emailing Producer Chris, and I'll just have to hope he puts the question to Andy. Edit: Okay, I've been informed that apparently there is an old joke about a man wishing for a head like an orange from a genie? I'd never heard it before but a guy I know from England told me it was quite well known (and showed me a link to an American site, so apparently they had it there too, not just a UK thing). I had never heard of this. Am I the only person who'd never heard of this? It hadn't occurred to me that Andy Zaltzzman would be referencing a joke he hadn't invented.

Amazingly, the indented portions above (split into multiple indents because for some reason Tumblr puts a limit on how many characters you can indent at a time) is the shortened version of the too-long post I made six weeks ago after listening to that Bugle episode. The initial post was up for maybe an hour or so before my friend in London read it, and messaged me to tell me about that old joke, and after that I edited the post to include that.

Here's the thing. In that hour between when I made the post and when I was told about the genie joke... I did actually email The Bugle. I don't know what that seemed like a good idea, given how incredibly overwhelmed I get by the idea of comedians I like knowing I exist. I was honestly quite sure it would not get read - they put out one Ask Andy episode per month, they're each about 20 minutes long, Andy answers maybe 6 or 7 questions each time. The Bugle has quite a big listenership, so they much get far, far more emails than that. I did not expect to hear about my question again, and in fact quickly forgot that I'd even sent it.

Until yesterday, when the August Ask Andy episode appeared in my podcast feed, so I put it on. About halfway through the episode, I heard Producer Chris Skinner introduce a question with the words, "This is a weird one." I thought, "That's cool, weird questions are fun." Then Chris said he didn't fully understand the question, but could not resist including it in the episode. "Wow," I thought, "what is such a weird question that Producer Chris couldn't resist it?"

Then he said my entire name, first and last, and the shock of hearing that short-circuited my brain so much that I had to pause the audio and just stare at my phone for several minutes. I did not hear him read my question (just said the name of who'd submitted it), I paused the audio before we got to that bit.

Why did this come as such an absolute, utter shock to me, when I had willingly submitted a question with the knowledge that this could happen? I don't know, I'm an idiot. Like I said, hadn't expected it to get answered. But more than that, it hadn't occurred to me that if they did answer it, they'd say my full name. For some reason that's the bit that really got me. I mean, my full name is in my email signature, so it's entirely reasonable that they read it. I just. That's my name. Like my name in real life, and I'm usually pretty careful to not associate my full name in real life with my comedy fandom. Someone said my full name to Andy Zaltzman. Producer Chris said my name.

So I sat there, stared at my phone, freaked out a bit, made that post that I linked at the beginning of this one, and when I made that post, I genuinely thought that within about 20 minutes, I'd have put the episode back on and made an update post in which I explained all this. But I got increasingly anxious at the thought of hearing Andy Zaltzman talk about something I had written in an email, so I decided to distract myself by going on social media to look at pictures of the Edinburgh Awards stuff, and was hit by an unexpected figurative bullet at point-blank range for the second time in one morning, this one being pictures of John Oliver at The Stand adding a whole new moment to Chocolate Milk Gang history, so that was a good distraction. Then I put on some NextUp Edinburgh shows, and now it's Sunday night and I really have to put that podcast back on because I am not going to spend my whole workday tomorrow distracted by questions like "I wonder if Andy Zaltzman said on a podcast that I'm an idiot who asks stupid questions?"

...I've still not listened to it though. I am genuinely, weirdly anxious. I'm going to put it on, and then I will make yet another post with what will inevitably be a anti-climactic thirty seconds of Andy Zaltzman saying "Oh, right, that's a reference to a joke about a genie," and then they'll move on, and it'll be fine. I'm just slightly paranoid about the thought of hearing Andy Zaltzman say, "What the fuck is wrong with someone who would ask such a weird question, especially when the answer is so obvious, it's the well-known genie joke, go away and never listen to my podcast again, [my full name]", so I'm procrastinating listening to it by writing this post.

[bunchacrunchcake]

Dave Chapelle wrote the best trans joke I've ever heard. I say this as a trans author. He says for a trans woman (which I am,) no matter how much I augment my genitalia, it will never be a real vagina, even though it might look and feel just like the real thing. Then he says "Impossible pussy!" and slaps his knees. The camera cuts to a woman in the front row visibly upset and crying.

It's the perfect joke, its long, detailed, has cliff hangers, an edgy set up, and a really creative punch line that delivers social commentary both on trans vaginas and fake meat. It's masterful.

Chapelle says his one trans fan likes his jokes, so it's okay.

He says all oppression is not the same. He says he had to chew out a white women for letting her oppression take precedent over his as a black man in America.

The Black Panthers created the rainbow coalition specifically to guard against these divide and conquer tactics. The rainbow coalition spread to many countries, many races, creeds, religions, and genders. They aremed themselves because they knew the fight would be real, and dangerous. Black power, the Black Panther movement was about global unity and a drastic change in global power structures. Through COINTEL PRO and other efforts, the US Government played a large part in the assassination of leaders, downfall, and ultimate evisceration of the Black Panther Party which are now known as the Crips and Bloods.

They say you stop maturing the year you get famous. Chapelle I'm assuming stopped in his 20s because he seems, as a black person, to have missed the core message of BLM which is that our struggles are united and that if we don't shout BLACK TRANS LIVES MATTER from the rooftops and FREE PALESTINE during religious services, we are complicit in the racist system that Chappelle himself spent an entire hour on Inside the Actors Studio complaining about.

Black trans women are murdered at a higher rate than almost any part of the US population. Trans and queer people all across the globe are systematically murdered. Being trans and queer is illegal and punishable by death or prison in many countries. Women, white and non-white, are often preyed upon and trafficked for sex globally as well.

BLM is a critical part of global history as it allows us to unentangle the deep roots of the prison industrial complex as well as things like redlining, and white capitalism so that we can start the very, very long and arduous process of in some way equalizing the playing field for a group of people that had horrific things done to them for centuries at the hands of powerful leaders.

It is built into BLM that liberation for black people is liberation for all. Not that it comes at the cost of everyone's freedom. It is a revitalization of the Black Panther Party.

Dave did 3 specials about trans people. James Acaster says "Edgy comedians, no one tells them what they can and can't say. They walk on stage, do 10 solid minutes, slagging off transgender people. Straight out the gate, making fun of transgender people. If people get upset about it, they say "Bad luck! That's my job! I'm a stand up comedian! I like to challenge people! If you don't like being challenged! Don't come to my shows! What's the matter guys? Too challenging for ya?!" He rants and repeats that for a little while. And then he says "Oh yeah, you know who's been long overdue a challenge? The trans community. They've had their guard down for too long if you ask me. They'll be checking their privileged on the way home now thanks to you, you brave little cis boy. I used to say the name of that comedian and it made things really awkward. 2019, people still happy to laugh at trans people, not as comfortable laughing at, I've learned, Ricky Gervais."

Dave Chappelle, found his one trans fan (not even friend), and wasn't given, but TOOK our equivalent of the n-word pass from her.

N-word passes are not real. It's a joke you play on dumb white people. Basically you give a white kid "the pass" to see if they're dumb enough to say the n-word in front of other black people. Then you get to sit back and laugh as the entire room goes ballistic on them. "OH MY GOD REBECCA WALKED INTO CHEMISTRY AND SAID WHATS UP MY N****S TO THE WHOLE CLASS!"

One random person does not speak for the whole planet.

I have also heard many well crafted racist black, asian, and latino jokes. I do not tell them. Not because they're not funny. But because they are based off of stereotypes that don't actually represent the vastly diverse group of people in those communities. They also are usually an oppressive person's opinion of someone who is opressed. It is the literal definition of bullying.

Retelling prejudiced jokes actively causes harm to those people. It supports the propaganda surrounding those communities that let police justify extrajudicial murder, and it keeps the people thinking that when a cop shoots a black man for going for his wallet, it was because he was scary, not because the cop was racist.

That's why I don't tell racist jokes, even if they are "really good."

Also, stand up comedy can literally be about ANYTHING. Pete Davidson did a whole bit about deciding whether to fuck his mom. It wasn't funny. But here's the thing, it could have been.

He could have said "Well... I already stuck my head through it."

For every one lifetime trans fan Dave keeps, he loses thousands. We are shouting at you from the rooftops that you are harmful to our community and you are furthering racism, because you are assigning hierarchy to oppression and deciding who is and isn't allowed to be oppressed. Rich, white men are at the top of that power structure.

I laughed out loud when I heard that joke. And then I slowly realized that I couldn't ethically stomach watching Chapelle any more. I didn't even know I was trans then, but just as a human being I couldn't do it. People that lean into hate I just don't let into my circle anymore. Yes even masters of their craft.

[respectthepetty]

Reading the (Visual) Rainbow 101

Lesson 7 - It Could All Mean Nothing

Because I get so many asks about colors, I decided the best way to celebrate Pride is to educate anyone who is interested in how to better Read the (Visual) Rainbow and simultaneously allow myself to appreciate queer media.

We've ventured through six lessons on how to read visuals in order to understand a piece of media's overall message. We journeyed through colors, barriers, symbolism, and cultural significance, but what if the image is just an image? What if it doesn't have a deeper meaning? What if it means absolutely nothing?¹

¹ It doesn't. An image always tells us something.

Those Darn Blue Curtains

If you've been around the internet in the past decade, you might have heard about some blue curtains.

The joke about the blue curtains demonstrates that sometimes the creator does not intend for an image or an object to be meaningful. Sometimes the curtains are just curtains that happen to be blue.

But that doesn't mean they're meaningless.

Literary Criticism

Literary theories are ways in which we can approach and examine a piece of text. Several literary theories exist. One theory tells us to only look at the work regardless of who wrote it or who the intended audience is (Practical). Another theory demands that we include the culture in our examination of the text (Cultural). And another theory requests we solely look at the formal elements of the text (Formalism) while another theory requires we include ourselves and our perspectives in the analysis (Reader-Response). Many more literary theories exist, and all have also been applied to media. Visual media is different than written text, so these theories have shifted into Critical Media Studies, but much like Literary Criticism, it helps viewers examine and analyze media using different theories.

Critical Media Studies

If we were watching a series that featured blue curtains, depending on which theory we use, we could interpret the message differently.

If the blue curtains don't mean the character is sad (Psychoanalytic Criticism), are the blue curtains making a statement about masculinity (Feminist Criticism or Queer Theory)? Are they being filmed up-close or off-centered to reflect the character's situation (New Criticism)? Or do the blue curtains quickly remind us this isn't a Dutch house (Cultural) because most Dutch houses don't have curtains?

Now, you might be thinking that if the blue curtains could mean any of those ideas, then nothing really matters, but we have to remember that we aren't placing value on these items because their purpose isn't TO BE the story but to merely reinforce it.

Since the blue curtains are there to support the narrative, we have to evaluate if they matter WITHIN THAT SPECIFIC NARRATIVE. Have the curtains usually been open and now they are closed? Did a character spend an unnecessary amount of time talking about them or use them for an odd purpose? Has the color blue been significant to the narrative before we saw these curtains?

If so, it matters to that narrative.

Video Examples

If you watched the two suggested videos from the previous lesson, the first video is Lady Gaga and Ariana Grande's "Rain on Me" and the second is a parody from Japanese comedians Naomi Watanabe and Yuriyan Retriever which means it has comedic elements. Although the parody is well done, we can see the comedy aspect in several scenes such as the singer being showered with dango (sweet rice dumplings) instead of daggers like Lady Gaga was in the original.

The original song is about overcoming tragedy and being grateful to emerge from such an ordeal even though the damage is apparent, something both Lady Gaga and Ariana Grande had to do in very public ways. The original video reinforces the song's meaning by showing Lady Gaga standing up with a dagger in her thigh (the obvious injury) and proceeding to dance in the rain which is symbolic of grief and absolution.

We can analyze the use of feminine colors (pink and purple). We can consider the post-apocalyptic setting. We can analyze the clothing with all of its chains and spikes. We can ponder why at the end, Lady Gaga styles her hair like Ariana Grande's while Ariana Granda leaves behind her signature high ponytail to wear Lady Gaga's hairstyle. We can wonder why the women are in opposite 'worlds' for most of the video, only to merge at the end.

And we can compare the parody to it and see it does an incredible job of parroting these elements. Then, we notice that unlike the original, the comedians don't fully come together because there is a barrier between them.

We must remember that this is a parody, so not every component, if any, is serious. But for the parody to include all the other important pieces mentioned above, why would it exclude the two women's worlds merging when it was very important in the original?

We could reach for a deeper meaning that maybe the parody is commenting on how the two women are still divided by society. We see there are more masks in the parody as well, so perhaps it's making a statement about women's voices being silenced because we notice the masks in the original as well.

But then we have to remember some of the lessons we have learned: lesson one taught us to think about the creator and the context, while lesson six told us to think about the culture and the context.

These videos were filmed in 2020 at the beginning of the pandemic. Precautions such as masks had to be worn to limit the spread of the virus, and different countries had different regulations. Therefore, in the Japanese parody, where both the leads are without masks, a barrier had to be placed between them.

The barrier and the masks aren't pointless though. They tell us about the time period and the circumstances in which the videos were made, but they don't have any effect on the videos' narrative. So although they are meaningless to the plot, they aren't meaningless to our understanding of what we are seeing and why.

So What's Your Point?

Don't look for meaning that isn't there, but don't assume meaning isn't there because you don't want to look for it. When we look for evidence that only confirms what we already believe or find new evidence and interpret it in such a way to support our already existing beliefs, this is considered confirmation bias. We want to avoid being biased, but we also want to avoid being dismissive.

Sometimes, all it takes is a few words into a search engine, and we can find the information we seek directly from the artists themselves. Depending on the medium, maybe the artist spoke about the symbolism during an interview. Possibly the director or cinematographer mentioned a detail during some behind-the-scene footage. Or by chance, someone was brave enough to ask the creators on their social media platforms or during a Q & A session.

For example, if Ayan's hip and thigh tattoos in The Eclipse drove you so crazy that you begged your mutuals to help you figure out what they were only to find a video of the actor stating they are his actual tattoos, you might be upset to learn what the tattoos say had no bearing on the plot BUT you will also learn that the director wanted an actor with tattoos because it visually showed the bad boy persona the character had which is important to the plot.

Nothing is truly pointless, but you don't have to make everything the focal point. Once again, the visuals strengthen the narrative's message; they shouldn't distract from it.

Activity

Using your knowledge from the previous lessons, watch Lil Nas X's "Industry Baby" music video - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTHLKHL_whs

Think about how the colors, visuals, barriers, group outfits, and cultural elements support the video's overall message.

We will briefly review it in the final lesson on Friday.

[spinningbuster98]

Castlevania Symphony of the Night Part 3: Regional Differences

So...to go back for a second to the fact that I’m playing a translated Japanese version, let’s talk about cut content!

There are a couple of things that were cut from this game when it was released overseas, mostly minor objects that would have required some further localization which the team probably didn’t wanna be bothered with

For starters: there are 2 hidden familiars in the original version that are not present in western releases (PSP port notwithstanding)

In the hidden room where you’d otherwise find the Holy Sword you instead find the Nose Demon! He’s essentially a reskin of the normal Demon familiar you get later on, except he’s got a funny face and voice lines. Supposedly he’s based on a popular japanese comedian of the time, so I assume that the reason he was cut was because the joke would have flown over us westerners’ heads

In the room where you’d find the Sword familiar you instead find the Half-Fairy. She works exactly like the normal Fairy except she has different voice lines....and a very cool easter egg attatched to her: if you sit on a chair and don’t move for a couple of minutes she will sit on Alucard’s shoulder and there’s a chance (it’s random and she would not cooperate with me at first here) that she will then start singing this beautiful little melody which I’m going to show off next time :)

I’m going to assume that the reason this one was cut is because not only would they have to translate the song but also have someone sing it and given the quality of the english voice cast yeah forget it

There are other, minor differences, such as the ghostly priest in the Cathedral actually having a voice line where he does a little prayer while he’s totally mute in the international release

Speaking of the english voice cast I guess I’m sort of obligated to talk about them eh? Well let’s go over them!

Rober Belgrade as Alucard should not work for all intents and purposes, mainly because the actual tone of his voice is the literal opposite of his japanese va (same guy who voices Zero in Megaman X btw): Alucard is supposed to be an elegant, refined yet coldly stoic prince, so a soft voice that can still command respect fits him, while Belgrade is far too baritone. Yet despite this he still ends up sounding iconic because he’s pretty much the only person in this cast who genuinely tried to do his best. It’s a case where the voice itself shouldn’t fit but the delivery of the lines saves it

Dracula’s va (same guys who voiced the protagonist of Silent Hill 1 btw) sounds like he was convinced he was supposed to perform a parody of a Shakesperean play, he sounds so over the top he ends up sounding funny. The voice itself does not match the artwork nor the general idea of Dracula as this dark and intimidating figure

I don’t wanna harp on too much on Richter’s va (same va as Chris Redfield from RE1 btw) since the man died a bunch of years ago, but....yeah he was clearly reading his lines in the opening. He gets a little better in the rest of the game but that’s the extent of it

I’ve heard folks say that they can’t stand Maria’s younger sounding voice in the PSP port because she “doesn’t sound mature enough”, to which I ask: You do know she’s 17 here right? Granted I used to know girls in High School that had relatively deep voices, but Maria here straight up sounds like your average sultry sexy lady, much older than what she’s supposed to be, while she’s actually supposed to be a more mature version of her Rondo self: still pretty upbeat and cheerful but with more maturity on her

Lastly let’s talked about flimsy localization!

One of my biggest gripes against SOTN for the longest times was the number of secret moves and features the game does not tell you about

Some of these I’ve never minded because they’re minor and I can understand why they’d be secret, for example the secret moves that some weapons can perform? Just a cool little thing that you can accidentaly find out on your own while fumbling with the controls (which happened to me). The ability to use any spell without buying them at the shop by just knowing their commands? Well late game spells destroy the early game so of course it’d be a secret, plus again you can discover this accidentally on your own. The Shield Rod spells? Well those HAD to be secrets. The Wing Smash? That...I’m more salty about because Alucard’s flight is slow as sin without it but whatever

My real issue was always with the High Jump and the Skill of Wolf power ups, mainly because you had to find the correct relics for them...but then the game wouldn’t tell you how to actually use them (technically speaking you can still boost with the wolf after acquiring thePower of Wolf Relic, but no version of the game, not even the Japanese one, tells you how to do it with this Relic alone. Tbf it’s a very simple command, just double tap either left or right, but the Skill of Wolf Relic actually allows you to immediately run on a whim with no build up, thus allowing you to use the ability much more frequently)! Not only is this dumb because, while not strictly vital, these moves speed up exploration big time (especially in the Inverted Castle) but also because it made the feeling of discovering these relics pretty moot.

That is until I played the japanese version! Turns out that in this original version the in-game relic descriptions for these two actually DO contain the button inputs for how to use them. Just to be sure I even briefly played through an untranslated japanese rom and lo and behold!

I may not be able to read kanji, but I can recognize arrows meant to represent button inputs!

So thank you english localization for making me think for over 10 years that Sotn was more cryptic than it actually is :)

[rpstartersinc]

* 𝐒𝐈𝐗  /  𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍  𝟏.

feel free to change pronouns / wording!

“ we can’t know that. ”  

“ you don’t mean that. ”  

“ you’re going to hell, you know that, right? ”  

“ it’s a nice night for a walk. ”  

“ they don’t tell me anything i swear to god. ”  

“ why’d you run then? ”  

“ i was scared. ”  

“ please, i wanna go home, please. ”  

“ he was a threat. ”  

“ i’m gonna live hard, die young, leave a beautiful corpse. ”

“ so this is the new guy scene where you give me shit, right? ”

“ you look like shit. ”  

“ how we saving the world today? ”  

“ we’re supposed to look like we know what we’re doing. ”

“ act professional. ”  

“ you can’t just quit on us. ”  

“ it is dangerous for you to be here. ”  

“ don’t be a problem. ”  

“ you’re giving me a goddamn headache. ”  

“ you are hungover. ”  

“ why don’t you look at me when i talk to you? ”  

“ you’re using an axe when you should be using a scalpel. ”

“ way better than you, ‘course it wouldn’t take much. ”  

“ you’re really going through with this. ”  

“ this is on you. ”  

“ it’s not anybody’s fault, it just is. ”  

“ i thought i’d pick you up. ”  

“ that’s where you and i are different. ”  

“ it doesn’t change anything for us. ”  

“ we’re all on our own path. ”  

“ we gonna do this or are we just gonna talk about it. ”  

“ we get in, we get out, we ask for forgiveness later. ”  

“ you can do something, right? ”  

“ it is about as personal as it gets. ”  

“ it must be great, not feeling anything for anybody. ”  

“ we can’t talk about what i do. ”  

“ heard them talking, they’re afraid of you. ”  

“ let me see it. ”  

“ respect is real when given without hope for reward. ”  

“ is that what you think of me? ”  

“ i just don’t think of you. ”  

“ mind over body. ”  

“ i don’t need your pity. ”  

“ hard part is learning when not to shoot. ”  

“ no, i don’t understand, i could never understand that. ”

“ you just bury it. bury it. bury all of it. ”  

“ sometimes it’s important to look the men under your command in the eye. ”

“ i owe everything to you. ”  

“ i said erase it. ”  

“ put the weapon down. ”  

“ you guys were like superheroes. ”  

“ doughnuts. i fought five cops for them. ”  

“ don’t tell me you slept here. ”  

“ maybe no news is good news. ”  

“ that’s cute, you practice that? ”  

“ this isn’t necessarily bad news. ”  

“ quitting? it’s not an option. ”  

“ she was bleeding on the ground, but still alive. ”

“ we’re already prisoners in a system that shuffles us from station to station like rats in a maze. ”

“ school is no better than prison. ”  

“ don’t joke about that. ”  

“ sins have consequences. ”  

“ you will remember that face every day for the rest of your life, i promise. ”

“ did you avenge her? ”  

“ i ordered tea. ”  

“ i make a damn fine earl grey. ”  

“ are you with me? the answer is yes, i’m with you. ”  

“ it’s never gonna be me, i’m bulletproof. ”  

“ it’s okay to open up about what happened, you know. ”

“ it’s not your fault. ”  

“ i wanna see you. ”  

“ i don’t know if i can trust you. ”  

“ i can’t be alone right now. ”  

“ comedians are dark, man, inside most of them are crying their eyes out. ”

“ you got me mixed up with someone else. ”  

“ a glock, really? ”  

“ i’ve been running it over and over in my head if there was anything that i could’ve done to have saved him. ”

“ can i trust you to keep it together? ”  

“ you can trust me. ”  

“ it can be a heavy burden, even when the cause is just. ”

“ i killed someone, and i will do it again. ”  

“ if i allowed injustice to happen then it was on me. ”

“ i couldn’t stand by and do nothing. ”  

“ i shouldn’t have told you. ”  

“ i know who you are. ”  

“ yeah well almost is not good enough. ”  

“ maybe we’re making more bad guys than we’re killing. ”

“ i can’t think about that. ”  

“ doubt creates hesitation, hesitation gets you killed. ”

“ i have to live like i’m already dead. ”  

“ their world, it’s all about death. ”  

“ it is a sign of affection. ”  

“ i don’t even remember what he looked like. ”  

“ you’d be better off keeping your mouth shut. ”

“ either jail or the military for people like me. ”  

“ all i know is death. everything i see, everything i touch. ”

“ i’m not going. ”  

“ there’s nothing you can do. ”  

“ does your life really mean that little to you? ”  

“ what do you know about the value of a human life? ”

“ clean that blood up. ”  

“ i can help you, if you help me. ”  

“ you’re playing a dangerous game. ”  

“ if it weren’t for me, he’d still be alive. ”  

“ if you get a chance to run, you take it. ”  

“ his rifle’s gone. ”  

“ i’m coming out! ”  

“ you’re gonna be okay now. ”  

“ close your mouth, bugs will fly in. ”  

“ still smells like ass. ”  

“ i think i’ve had enough of small dark spaces for a while. ”

“ if it were up to me, you’d never buy another meal the rest of your life. ”

“ you in a suit? i’d pay to see that. ”

“ did you see it? ”