#he's showing his teethies too what was not to like about this scene

[20001541]

The anime didn't include this close up of him before Tokoyami attacks him. He looked so pretty too :(

[sillykitty9000]

Ready To Pay In Full by Teethies on AO3 is a masterpiece and I need to talk about it right now

Mild-moderate spoilers ahead + Cw: mention of sexual harassment and abusive power dynamics

First of all, how the fuck was THAT written in only 4 days? 10k words of beautifully thought out in-character plot? In 4 DAYS??? Good lord, that is incredible! Also, Teethies mentioned that this was their first time writing fanfiction? Unfair if you ask me. (/lht) It was wonderfully written, and I can not believe how much I enjoyed it.

Chapter 1: It opens beautifully. The descriptions are rich, and the characters are so real. Not only is Teethies's voice portrayed well throughout the story, but the characters' voices are seen wonderfully, too. It briefly, but not inconsistently, fills in the end of OUAW and sets the scene in a realistic way. It is admirable how Teethies can make both Kremy and Gideon in character even without having them speak; their body language shows expression without any semblance of "He did this, he moved there." I really enjoy how Teethies handles small details, like how Gideon’s hair leaves ashes on his new shirt; it's not necessary to the plot, but it gives the story so much more life. Gideon and Kremy feel real in the way they interact, and they are sweet in the way that only they can be. Vague flirty remarks just before moderate insults. Reading this feels like I'm listening to their campaign with how accurate these characters are. This whole chapter explores character history, especially Kremy’s, and it really goes in-depth as to why they each do the things they do. Again, they're all so in character that it feels like I'm really there. Even the subtle nonverbal reactions feel like the characters, and it's really sweet seeing Kremy and Gideon interact in the way they're so used to. Outside help brings them a bit closer, and it's a really nice way of showing how close they are, even if they aren't explicitly romantic. Again, I really appreciate how in-depth this story goes with Kremy’s history. I never really considered what his past before the Carnival but after his childhood would be like, but Teethies perfectly explains why Kremy is so powerful and how he knows so much about Garou. It really paints how Kremy behaves, and I loved every second of the first chapter.

Chapter 2: How this fic somehow IMPROVED upon their first chapter was something out of a dream. As someone who hasn't caught up on the campaign entirely, I don't know much about Mr. Garou, other than they owe him money, but Teethies does a wonderful job characterizing him in a way that feels canon and makes me understand the motivations of the characters through the story. Also, Teethies makes him a completely horrible person in a truly aggravating way. He is unredeemable, he is unlikable, and he is perfect for that. Not once was I thinking that he may change his ways, and it makes the morally questionable Kremy and Gideon seem like good people. It made me feel bad for them, and it made me enjoy their character just that much more. This chapter definitely favors the view of Gideon as opposed to the Kremy central story of the first chapter, and it really shows their differences. Kremy’s chapter was anxious. It was so obviously fearful, but it had the comforting figure of Gideon beside him. In this chapter, however, there is no comfort. Gideon is angry, he is concerned, and he has no one to turn to. He is supposed to be the protector, but he quickly learns how powerless he is in the face of Mr. Garou. Around here is where Mr. Garou gets really gross. Again, he is an unforgivable evil man, and Teethies portrays him as such. The way he talks to Gideon, but especially Kremy, makes me a bit sick. He is so cruel, and it makes you feel bad for all that Kremy has had to put up with. Gideon naturally responds with anger, but he then has suggestion cast over him. This part is actually fascinating to me because I've never considered how suggestion would work. I love how Teethies describes it as comforting magic because that really ties in to the wisdom mechanics of the game. Gideon could choose to disobey, but Kremy is mentally praising him and is so happy to see how well-behaved he is. He must be a bit scared to disobey because he feels that Kremy could leave at any point and never take him back, and that's where his wisdom fails him. He does not know that Kremy cares about him as much as he does, and that's why he submits so easily to suggestion. He does not want to lose Kremy over something like disobeying orders. We see again how badly Gideon does not want to lose Kremy at the end, where they find themselves in an argument over the entire scene with Remy Garou. It wonderfully breaks down their feelings into a soft scene, and it concludes a fantastic story.

This fanfiction was incredible from beginning to end, and it made me go through so many emotions at any given point. While there is romance, it is not the main focus which is fantastic. It really dives into the depths of each character and how they exist in their world, but also shows the inner workings of their minds without being too invasive. It was a fantastic read, and I highly recommend it.

[tenglows]

3 + 50 with Jaehyun, pls 🙏🏻😔

[ 3: still scared? ] + [ 50: we're lucky it's dark outside ]

the prompts

it was a chilly november night when you asked your boyfriend vampire!jaehyun to show you the way he transformed.

it wasn’t that long ago that you had learnt about jaehyun’s true identity. after dating for some months, jaehyun couldn’t blame you for wanting to know why he disappeared out of nowhere for a few days, or where he was going when he left his place late in the evening.

he didn’t want you to doubt him, and after giving it much thought and also discussing it with some of his vampire friends, he figured your trust was above all.

so he told you. everything. starting from the way he got bitten to explaining he sometimes left to the woods to find food, or maybe because he was too weak and needed to recharge.

you certainly didn’t react as he expected. no screams, no cries, no pleads. just you with a not much amused expression asking if you could see his teeth.

your relationship went back to normal afterwards. it even got better, since jaehyun didn’t need to sneak around or hide anything anymore. he found it adorable how interested you were though.

“baby can you carry me to the bed? since you have superhuman strength obviously”

“i’ll go and talk to you from across the street. tell me if you can hear me with those preternatural senses. oh, also! did you smell i’m using a new shampoo?”

“can you shapeshift into a bat? actually, don’t do that”

“will you read my cat’s mind and see if she likes the new brand of tuna i’m buying for her?”

jaehyun appreciated how calm you had been about the whole situation, not even freaking out about him, but he also wanted to satiate your growing curiosity. hence, he took you to his familiar spot in the woods. he would just show you his teeth and his abilities, strength and speed. no biggie. his dad was helping him with a bit of telekinesis as well.

“are you okay?” he asked when you stopped walking behind him. the ambiance became silent as the leaves stopped crunching against your feet. just the sound of the wind and the night animals could be heard.

“what if you want to drink my blood or hurt me” if you and jaehyun were good at something, it was being honest with each other. both of you could always tell the other the exact thing that was going through your mind, no filter needed.

“i won’t hurt you, i can control myself but i understand if you want to go home”

“no, it’s okay. just promise you won’t turn crazy when transforming”

“there’s no much transformation either, y/n. it’s not like i’m a werewolf”

you tilted your head, knowing he was right. still, you couldn’t help but be scared. you didn’t have your boyfriend telling you he was a vampire every day, and apparently it wasn’t a common search for advice on google either. you had tried.

jaehyun knew you were scared. he felt it, your heart beating so loud it was almost physically impossible, your hair almost reeking with the smell of fear. he held onto your hand tightly. he had never been more sure about anything as he was with the fact he wouldn’t let anything hurt you. not even him. and he wouldn’t be here in the first place if he knew this meant trouble for you. you were safe with him.

“okay, ready” he closed his eyes and his fists. he took a breath in and felt as if his entire body was burning in flames, and when he opened his eyes, you could see them yellow with a tint of red. he gave you a teethy smile, or you could say a fangy smile.

“wow!! they’re so cool and shiny”

“still scared?” jaehyun giggled as you got closer and dared to run your finger through one of his pointy teeth.

he could feel you even more now, the veins pumping in your neck, the blood running through you like the cleanest river. and boy was he thirsty. jaehyun always tried not to think about you that way, to prohibit himself from the forbidden fruit, in this case: your blood.

“not anymore” you whispered, your fingers trailing his lips now. you could feel his chest growing heavier, and you knew he could hear the way in which your heart fluttered. he could hear it more than you could ever feel it. you knew you were playing with fire, but you hadn’t burned yourself yet. “actually it was kind of hot”

jaehyun kissed you. his kisses always started soft and steady, but now there was hunger. but you didn’t mind, you kissed back with the same craving. you touched his skin under his shirt, his hands on your back under his jacket you were wearing.

“bite my lip”

“hm?” he stopped the kiss.

“i said bite my lip, jaehyun”

he stared at you for a few seconds before leaning in again. if you were sure, then there was no reason for him to waste anytime. it wasn’t the first time he had kissed you like that, but it was the first time that he would actually taste your blood. and your body shook when both of you groaned.

“fuck, your taste is so good” you tasted almost as candy to jaehyun. he didn’t let himself deepen or melt completely into the kiss, afraid he would lose control if he did so. but your blood, and your scent, god. he didn’t think there was a way back from that.

“we’re lucky it’s dark outside. i bet this looks like an interesting scene”

he laughed as his jacket fell from your shoulders to the floor.

“yeah, i guess we’re lucky”.

[sunflowerspectre]

Of Strange Brothers | Dungeons and Dragons Commission

This commission was for KiwiToast, of her original D&D characters.

Dungeons and Dragons

Original Character Commission

Summary:

A series of scenes shot throughout the Mistletoe Strangers Series focusing on Alagarthesis and Neronvain.

Requested Word Count: 2k - 5k

Final Word Count: 2026

Also on A03

Of Strange Brothers

Neronvain’s heart is beating wildly against his chest to the beat of the music inside of the castle. He has successfully glided through the many patrons of the ball, blending in seamlessly into the crowd. His pace has been quick, but even and steady as to not draw too much attention to himself. He would have gotten too many looks if he had just darted away or ran, especially if he was seen running away from the mistletoe where (despite being masked) the very recognizable Desire had been. 

He glances around often, a paranoia creeping up his spine. With no sign of anyone, nevertheless Desire, he rests against the balcony’s banister. An odd sensation of disappointment rises his chest. He swallows it down; it is better for both of them if she does not find him, right?

He really should stop listening to that womanizing, romantic brother of his, but how was he supposed to say no? When he saw her standing there under the mistletoe, just waiting, the very image of beauty, for the first time in a long time, he had found himself acting before thinking. Which is new, and more than a bit dangerous. 

“Sooo how was it?” 

Algatheris’ cheeky voice rings, causing Neronvain to curse. He turns to see a grin stretching out across his brother’s face, akin to a cat that ate the canary. His eyes are twinkling with an aura of happiness and giddiness, a stark contrast the sense of doom that has been settling around Neronvain.

“How was what?” 

Algatheris tsk’, “Don’t get coy with me, you kissed her, so tell me, how was it? Was it romantic? Deep? French?”

“It was a kiss,” Neronvain states simply, keeping his voice simple and to the point as he turns his back to his brother, “A kiss that I shouldn’t have let you sway me to do.”

Algatheris sputter, “Sway? Me? If you recall dear brother, I did not say a single word about kissing her. I simply told you that she was there. The kiss is all your making.”

Neronvain opens his mouth, an argument on the tip of his tongue before he swallows his words. He closes his mouth and focuses on the starlight that drips through the sky. The temptation of screaming in frustration growing, he lets out a huff. 

Algatheris pats him on the back sharply, taking the breath from his lungs, but rubs it in a comforting manner. He leans over beside him, his hand now draping around Neronvain’s shoulders to bring him in close.

“Do you regret it,” Algatheris asks, his voice dropping its usual aloofness.The somberness of his tone makes Neronvain pause. He looks to his brother, but Algatheris’ eyes are on the skyline with a wistful, knowing gleam to them. A smile graces Algatheris’ lips. Not the cheeky grin he gives when he knows he’s gotten away with something. It’s not the boastful grin of a man who won his trophy nor the teethy, flashy grin that he flashes to everyone who looks his way. It’s too somber. The grin you give when a grandmother holds your hand on her dying breath. It’s sincere, loving, but unsure of what’s going to happen next.

Neronvain is quiet for a moment. The silence covering them both as the music behind them begins to blur out of focus as their minds become preoccupied.

The kiss could have bad consequences. Neronvain can’t even begin to imagine what would happen if Desire finds out that it was him. She could get mad and even refuse to speak to him again. She could kick him out of their traveling party. She could steal his wallet out of revenge. Their kiss brings more cons than pros, yet...

He can still taste her on his lips. Her lips were a bit dry and he could tell exactly how much she had drank, but her lips were warm. Warm enough to light a fire that he is still trying to dwindle. 

“No, no I don’t.”

Algatheris’ grin stretches as he pats Neronvain on the shoulder, “Then that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

Neronvain doesn’t answer him, wishing that it is as simply as that.

#####

Theoretically, the idea of watching them from the windows should have also meant that he could hear them. He couldn’t. He watches as Desire drinks - and drinks and drinks - with his brother. The dusting of pink on her cheeks when a hand grazes hers at the first drink. The words that seem to flow easily from her lips as his brother nods and listens. It isn’t as if Desire never talked to him; at times, she talked too much. It isn’t as if she never listened to; there are maybe five times he remembered where she did. But this is different. He can feel it.

Neronvain scrambles, a tad more ungracefully than any ‘prince’ should, away from the window as Desire quickly approaches the door. The idea of staying there, having her confront him, played only for a moment in his mind before his usual confidence falters just enough for him to make a dive for a hiding spot.

He watches as Desire leaves his brother’s abode, half drunk and dazed. She misses the step by the door and he twitches, almost going to help her, but why should he when Algatheris isn’t too far behind? When Algartheris is the one she goes to? When his brother is the one she spills all her concerns too? When apparently she’s oh so close to his brother?

Neronvain waits until she is gone before he approaches the door himself. His hand hovers over the door, but stops before it hits the wood as the door swings open. Algatheris leans against the door frame, casually, with a grin stretching across his face and a gleam in his eyes. 

“You need to learn how to hide better if you don’t want her to see you,” Algatheris comments.

His never-faltering grin only causes Neronvain’s bitterness to grow. It makes Algatheris seem as if he knew something that Neronvain didn’t, as if he knows everything. The sour sensation in his mouth made it harder to admit what he wants to say. Neronvain crosses his arms against his chest and other than a small twitch beginning to form at the corner of his lips, his face remained stoic.

“Why would I worry about her seeing me?”

“You tell me, you’re the one hiding.”

Algatheris watches his brother closely, a more calculating look in his eye. He knows his brother waited outside for quite a while, but he isn’t sure about how much he could really hear.

Neronvain scowls deeply like a pouting child, “I was not hiding.”

“Ah yes, because we all hide within the bushes for fun,” Algatheris laughs, “If you want to make amends, you are more than welcome to come in for a drink….”

His laughter dwindles off as he leans forward with a wink, “...But if you want my opinion, you should stop hiding and go after her before someone else does.”

Neronvain looks closely for any signs of what his brother really means by that statement; what exactly is he implying? Algatheris simply blinks innocently, as if he never implied anything at all, as he waits for a response. 

“I suppose I should make sure that she doesn’t get eaten on her way back to camp after all the drinks you gave her.”

There’s an accusing tone to his voice that Algatheris ignores, grinning, as he watches Neronvain finally depart after her. He can hear the way his brother continues to grumble under his breath, I was not hiding.

#########

It’s been too long since Algatheris has heard from his brother. He rereads the last letter he received, detailing a close call with an ambush on his party’s last trip. It doesn’t say much, other than it being too close for comfort and that it could have been prevented if he was paying attention. There’s a vague mention of Desire, something about her being stupid for almost getting killed. Something that, while worrying him, does make him smile. Neronvain has always had a strange way of showing he cared.

He hopes that rereading it will ease his fears, remind him that if Neronvain is well enough from that ‘close call’ to write a letter, then he is sure to be fine. He had already sent his best wishes, along with five feet of parchment reminding his brother to be careful. Maybe he never got a reply back, but it usually took a while for Neronvain to reply.

But it shouldn’t take this long. 

He wonders how bad Desire’s wounds are - if her almost getting killed meant something that could kill her later. He’s always liked her - she’s funny, makes interesting conversation, stirs up trouble, and makes his brother happy. She’s his friend. 

But she is much more than that to his brother. If something happened to her, if she passed due to her wounds, then he can imagine why Neronvain isn’t sending any letters. It would destroy his brother, as much as he would never admit it, if she got killed. He can’t even begin to imagine what his brother would do - well perhaps he could, but that thought process definitely doesn’t help his fears.

Months go by and each day, each hour, he gets more worried. 

He gets a letter the day before he’s ready to head out himself to find his brother; his duties be damned if his brother needs him. He already had a bag half-packed sitting in his bedroom and maps thrown about his desk as he decided on a route that would take him close to where his brother’s letter was sent from. But all those maps are tossed aside when he gets a letter with his name neatly written in his brother’s handwriting across the top of the parchment. 

His heart is about to beat out of his chest, unsure of what he is about to read. He likes to think it will be good news -  receiving this letter at all eases his worst fears. He takes a deep breath, not even bothering to sit down to read it. He carefully runs a thumb over the seal, noting the familiar wax seal of Desire’s horns. He swallows thickly, his stomach turning as he steadies his hands. 

The letter should be good news, yet this small detail. This little symbol of wax is making his stomach turn. Desire never really sends letters, not formally, and as such she doesn’t typically use her stamp (a stamp, he remembers, that Neronvain got for her). He vaguely recalls Neronvain being upset when he found out that it was shoved deep inside of her belongings, never to see the light of day unless she had to write formal letters - things like business, parties, and funerals. Using her stamp, but knowing his brother’s handwriting, worries him more than hearing no response.

He hesitantly breaks the seal and scans over the letter carefully. The more he reads, the more his worries turn into happiness, his face breaking out into a grin. 

“Son of a bitch,” he whispers under his breath.

There are a few paragraphs at the end that are also in her writing, her swirling and unsteady letters contrasting against the strict, calligraphy hand of Neronvain. Unlike Neronvain, she writes more casually and some of her words are scratched out and their corrections written in smaller writing above it. There’s a few careful words chosen, cautious phrases that new lovers use, as if they don’t want to scare the other off. A few little notes that Desire wrote, added in little letters with arrows at Neronvain’s paragraphs. Desire even signs her name next to Neronvain’s. 

He has to say, they really did a hell of a job getting their message across. His heart swells in his chest, happiness blooming for his brother. 

“They finally did it.”

Interested In A Commission?

[profgandalf]

Can Humor Be Holy?

A few years ago I was disturbed by an idea presented in Milan Kundera’s Book of Laughter and Forgetting. "Laughter” he writes “belongs to the devil because laughter happens when the meaning of things is subverted."  Now I, as a Christian, want to believe--in contrast to this--that laughter is firmly in the domain of Heaven because “all good things come from Him” (James 1: 17).  (Also I love to laugh although my enjoyment of something is hardly a measure of its healthfulness. I love coffee but doubt it will be in Heaven.) Still. if you’ve read my article about “Hallowing Halloween,” you know that my central argument is that Halloween should be used by Christian to mock the claims of supernatural power claimed by Satan and his followers.

Kundera has a Point:

That all being said, I must admit Kundera’s point.  Humor functions to undermine, to tear down, to prick someone’s bubble, to reveal the weakness of a position or stance.  That’s what it does: it points to the absurd and holds it up for ridicule. “All comedy,” according to John Cleese, “is critical.”  (For an excellent exposition on this see this short video in which he is featured.) This, however, may make many of us uncomfortable. First off we know that humor has been used to destroy or at least devalue what many of us thought of as being sacrosanct.  Sexual purity, love of country, the role of the father within the family are all concepts which have been held up for ridicule in contemporary comic media.  It should be noted that these ideas do not lose support because they are intrinsically weak but because there are so many who espoused them who were less than successful.  Their foolishness gave the humor a recognition of truth. Ralph Kramden, Fred Flintstone or Peter Griffin when bellowing that he is the head of the house is all the more absurd since each represents a class of men who may claim that without fulfilling it. Furthermore in argument the rhetorical tool of mockery is recognized as profoundly effective even when there reason provides little to advance a cause.  

”Senator, Your No Jack Kennedy”

Witness the famous line “"Senator, you're no Jack Kennedy."   This put-down was a remark made during the 1988 United States vice-presidential debate by Democratic vice-presidential candidate Sen. Lloyd Bentsen to Republican vice-presidential candidate Sen. Dan Quayle.  It was devastating and yet in no way met the actual observations Quayle was making.  

Still as noted by Wikipedia “Bentsen's comment was played and replayed by the Democrats in their subsequent television ads as an announcer intoned: "Quayle: just a heartbeat away." It proved sure-laugh fodder for comedians, and more and more editorial cartoons depicted Quayle as a child (Saturday Night Live actually used a child actor to portray Quayle in several sketches.” (”Senator, Your No Jack Kennedy”)

Isn’t it Just Mean?

Many people of faith also wonder if tearing things down fits into the life-style consecrated to holiness a life-style supposedly epitomized by love, a goal that all serious believers are supposed to be aspiring towards.  Isn’t laughter, they wonder “by its very critical nature mean?” The reader may recall Buzz Lightyear’s suspicious confusion in Toystory, when facing Woody’s laughter over him not realizing he’s not a Space Ranger, not living in a world where aliens exist. “Your mocking me aren’t you?”  He doesn’t lie it and I for one felt a little bad for him.

(Side Note: My family finds this scene especially hysterical, pointing at me since apparently I periodically miss the ludicrousness I am revealing in my own behavior.) 

“Clueless Buzz” as the creators of the Toystory series call him does have his world crash down upon him and it is traumatic.  But the fact is that the befuddlement depicted is that of anyone who does not realize that he or she is being absurd. He is guilt of affectation not from hypocrisy but from ignorance.

Henry Fielding says that humor should be used to mock individuals out of affectation so that they will be better people.  But that means that the motivation of the comic must be wholesome.  What may be of some concern Buzz’s case is that the humor is not being used to improve him, but is instead being used by Woody to bring him down.  Oh sure he’s delusional and one can argue that having a true understanding of one’s self is vital for effective living (“You ARE a toy!”) But what is the real final intent of the mockery?  To put him in his place.

Keep in mind that in this scene Woody is using humor as a weapon against the toy who has replaced him in his high post in Andy’s affections as well as his room.  So does Buzz deserves this treatment because of his arrogance and self delusion?  It is interesting to note that in the film Woody finds himself cast out of Andy’s room because his own dark agenda is revealed.  And this “weaponization” is perhaps the point. 

Humor is a Weapon

Weapons are not always evil.  As a gun owner I affirm this. But they are always weapons. If gun can be used to stop evil perhaps wholesome humor, exists because some ideas deserve to be shown to be the absurdities they are. As I said in my article of Halloween, Satan’s Rebellion is a doomed farce and he knows it. But the struggle against evil requires weapons.  So, like it or not, humor is a weapon and perhaps a necessary one.

But when or how does one use a weapon?  Potentially a consciousness comedian might be like a consciousness objector.  The later asks “Can one use deadly force to do good?”  The first should wonder “Is it suitable to hold up others or things up for scorn?” Humor, it must be remembered, is a kind of force, a potentially dangerous one. It has recognized as such since ancient times.  However I affirm that it can be used in this way and still be Holy. Others may feel differently just as good people disagree with me about guns.

Weapons Must Be Used with Care

In the Stanford online Encyclopedia of Philosophy  John Morreall in his article on the “Philosophy of Humor” reminds readers that while “Aristotle considered wit a valuable part of conversation (Nicomachean Ethics 4, 8), he [also] agreed with Plato that laughter expresses scorn. 

Wit, he says in the Rhetoric (2, 12), is educated insolence. In the Nicomachean Ethics (4, 8) he warns that ‘Most people enjoy amusement and jesting more than they should … a jest is a kind of mockery, and lawgivers forbid some kinds of mockery—perhaps they ought to have forbidden some kinds of jesting.’  Morreall goes on to say “These objections to laughter and humor influenced early Christian thinkers, and through them later European culture” (”The Philosophy of Humor--Humor’s Bad Reputation.) 

This may explain why a blogger when posting an analysis of the concept of the laughing Jesus completely admits that the whole concept of a laughing Jesus is actually a “newish” concept (Check out Happy Jesus, Part 1:  ) He even goes on to quote  G.K. Chesterton

“There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth.”  -G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (1908)

Did Jesus laugh as the above opening painting suggest?  But at what?  Would he find anyone falling on a banana peel funny or would his empathy always make him go “aww” when a disciple missteped on the rocky Roman roads of the Holy Land? Did he think that watching Peter bubbling in the water as he sank under his own doubt hysterical?  I do, but did He? What about the look of incredulity of his disciples’ faces when he revealed himself as alive after stopping from the road to Emmaus?  And do you find the images of a teethy Christ which I found when looking for this article’s main painting, a bit creepy?  I confess I did.

This brings up another aspect of humor separate from the recognition of it as a powerful weapon.  

Humor is Often at Odds with Cultural Norms and Culture Shapes How We See It

Part of our discomfort of Holy Humor (and Jesus finding us funny) is that laughter has very little to do with how we traditionally view Christ.  Cultural expectations are powerful.   And understanding culture is a vital when talking about humor.

The aforementioned Kundera, for example, started life under the repressive regime of Communist Czechoslovakia, a nation at the time ruled by a system in which the authorities claimed to be good but crushed any who apposed it.  Any humorous criticism of the state would be branded as evil, a stance he personally embraced.  Thus, he is by inclination wanting to side with the rebellious.

Orthodoxy maintenance never has a sense of humor. (In another novel, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Kundera presents a character named  Sabina who admits to her distaste for parades, explains her feelings as being because in her Communist past children were forced to parade.  This stands in contrast to her all her western friends who love parades both official and for causes.) In The Book of Laughter and Forgetting Kundera sees the forces of Heaven as not being specifically always supporting the good but as powers which are concerned with maintaining God’s creation.  Thus, they are always by nature preserving never tearing down. Heaven keeps rules, Hell breaks them.  The trouble for us here on Earth is that we know that there are some rules which need to be broken.This is not an especially new idea

Kundera, in some ways, is articulating the ideas of the 17th century British poet William Blake who saw the active, dynamic poet organically as being rebellious in contrast to those in culture who are submissive and sedative as being Godly.  Specifically he was trying to explain why for many readers Milton in Paradise Lost is so compelling but somehow is less so in Paradise Regained:

The reason Milton wrote in fetters when he wrote of Angels & God, and at liberty when of Devils & Hell, is because he was a true Poet and of the Devil's party without knowing it. (The Marriage of Heaven and Hell ca. 1790–93)

The trouble then comes down to the basic assumption that goodness is supposed to be non-aggressiveness, submissive, and un-confrontational, but does any of that actually describe Christ?  The answer is a resounding no. 

Humor a Weapon in A Holy War

I will concede that humor, like any weapon, can be misused.  I have seen it done so.  I will also admit that humor has been an effective tool to make me laugh at what I should not.  Sexual promiscuity is destructive and making jokes about the break down of a family’s moral structure should not be funny.  However none of that takes away from the profoundly healthful and important role holy humor has in our world.  It is a weapon against darkness.

Henry Fielding began his ground-breaking work (today called “a novel”) on a belief in the moral value of humor.  In his Preface to Joseph Andrews, part of his first great comic novel, Fielding argues for the moral importance of humor--tying it in to what he as a neo-Augustine would have considered the height of art, the classics,  He describes his work as  the “Comic Epic in Prose.”  He makes it clear that for him there is only one worthy target for humor, that of human folly in affectation:

The only source of the true Ridiculous (as it appears to me) is affectation. But tho’ it arises from one spring only, when we consider the infinite streams into which this one branches, we shall presently cease to admire at the copious field it affords to an observer. Now affectation proceeds from one of these two causes; vanity, or hypocrisy: for as vanity puts us on affecting false characters, in order to purchase applause; so hypocrisy sets us on an endeavour to avoid censure by concealing our vices under an appearance of their opposite virtues. and tho’ these two causes are often confounded, (for they require some distinguishing;) yet, as they proceed from very different motives, so they are as clearly distinct in their operations: for indeed, the affectation which arises from vanity is nearer to truth than the other; as it hath not that violent repugnancy of nature to struggle with, which that of the hypocrite hath.

And so Fielding perhaps best calls the best of what Holy Humor is.  It is a weapon that should be aimed at the folly we all carry within us.  Cleese in the above cited video mentions what he calls the most inclusive of jokes; “How Does one make God laugh?  Answer: Tell him your iron clad plans.”  CS Lewis in his epistolary novel The Screwtape Letters (which Cleese actually performed in the audio book version of) indented his “book as a fairly humorous work, Lewis's goals included both reflections on the nature of evil and an effort to create a different portrayal of the Devil than the sort normally seen in pop culture. Screwtape has practically No Sense of Humor himself, and comes across as a sort of cranky cosmic killjoy” (TV Tropes “Screwtape letters”)  Humor is a great weapon which is especially dramatized as Screwtape in a rage at being a source of entertainment to the patient’s love interest (the kind of woman who would find ME funny) turns himself into a worm.. In Christ’s hands and in ours humor should be used to laugh us out of our own folly and the diabolical forces who attempt to use it.