#I know I based this off of something by a comedian

[doueverwonder]

New Zealand: I'm like that neighbor that gets to leave the gate open and my doors unlocked.

New Zealand: Or the kid in school who never got bullied because of how many people their older siblings beat up.

New Zealand: and why is this?

New Zealand, gestures to Canada, US, and Australia: Because them.

[tootiecakes234]

Warning: NSFW

Character aged up

You ask Katsuki if you can paint his PP🤭:

“No! Get the hell away from me!” And he starts walking away from you.

“But Katsuki! I’d make it so pretty. I already have a vision in mind. I want to paint it into a microphone! Maybe sing a song into it.” You say following behind him, positive you aren’t helping your situation.

“Y/N if you don’t get away from me right now, we are breaking up. I’m packing my shit and leaving and you’ll never see me ever again! I meant it.” And he plops down on the couch with an exaggerated groan. “You’ve lost your entire fucking mind, smooth brain.”

You know you’re gonna have to grovel for this one. You try to slide yourself onto his lap, but he pushes you off and you bounce a little on the couch cushions.

“No, you’re not kissing and snuggling your way into this. I’m not letting you practice your goddamn painting skills on my dick. Where do you even come up with this shit?” He says now looking at you with wide, concerned eyes.

“Well I was scrolling on TikTok-“

“And there it goes. I’m not even surprised.”

You lean over and run your hands over the his wide chest and buff arms.

“‘Suki when you think about, a microphone is only two colors. Black and grey. It would only take me like 5 minutes.” And then you start pressing kisses to his neck. “Pretty please. I’ll even hop in the shower with you after and help you clean up.” There’s a sultry lilt to your voice. This is something you pull out all the weapons in your arsenal for.

“Y/N i go along with a lot of your dumbass ideas, but I’m drawing the line. No paint on my d-dick. Fuck, cut it out.” You had slipped your hands down his stomach and right under the shorts he had on.

“But it’ll be easier to paint if its hard Kat, don’t ya think?” You whisper up against his ear. You run your thumb over the top and smear the precum over his slit.

“Ugghhh. I hate you, you know that.” He groans really low.

“Mmmmhhh. Pretty please,” you say and stroke down to the base of his cock and then back up. “With a cherry on top.”

“You have 10 f-fucking minutes! And that paint better be safe for skin or I swear to god!” He shouts at you.

You’re up and off the couch before he can even finish that sentence and within a minute you’re back with the paint you already had prepared and brushes.

You get down on your knees, in between his legs, and place your supplies on the ground next you. For him to be so against it, he’s already pulled off his shirt and underwear. He’s accepted his fate.

“Okay, if any of the brushes are uncomfortable or the paints don’t feel good, let me know k?” You say looking up at him.

This man has his arms crossed over his chest and he’s glaring daggers into you.

“What the hell ever woman. Hurry up, your time’s tickin.”

So you pick up a big fluffy brush and dip it into the black paint before you start working on the base of his dick.

As soon as the brush touches against his skin Katsuki screams bloody murder. Its scared the hell out of you and you’re surprised at yourself that you don’t drop the damn brush and get paint everywhere.

When you look up at him to ask him what’s wrong the bastard has a smirk on his goddamn face his shoulder are shaking because he’s holding in his laughter.

“You should’ve seen yourself. Your entire body took a screenshot. I thought you might go into shock.” Now he’s outwardly laughing loud as fuck.

He thinks he’s such a comedian. Well too bad for him because we’re a freakin party clown.

While he’s still laughing you bend down and take the head of his cock in your mouth and swirl your tongue all over it.

His laugh is cut short and you look up to see him squeezing his eyes shut. You pull your head back up and give him a sweet smile.

“So now, how about you cut out the jokes and let me focus on my masterpiece.” And you hear him grumble back some kind of rude response but you take that as an understanding.

You breathe and try to gain your composure before you start back on the task in front of you. You again start at the base of his cock and then do long stokes upwards until you get right below the shroomed tip.

You’re about halfway through when you notice his cock twitching and leaking pre all over.

Oh my gosh he likes this. Or it at least feels good because damn. When you look up at him there’s a blush covering his face and his lips are tight like he’s trying to hold in sounds that might escape. His eyes though are trained on the brush in your hand as you work.

You were about to speak when he cut you off, “Don’t. Just hurry up and finish”

“Yes sir” you say slyly as your start working on the other side.

“Ok. Base is done. Now the tip, I know how sensitive you are so I’ll try to be gentle.” And now you’re the one with a smirk on your face. “Look I can’t paint correctly if there’s precum constantly leaking up here.”

“The fuck do you want me to do. I’m not making it leak out on purpose.” He rolls his eyes at, throws his head back and uses his arm to cover his face. Hes not quick enough to cover the blush that’s dusting his cheeks.

It’s so funny that he still get embarrassed in front of you. You take your thumb and lightly run it over the top to pick up as much pre as possible then you pop it in your mouth. Then you get to work.

You dab lightly around it and make sure to avoid the opening. You hear Katsuki’s breath become more ragged.

“Ok, I’m all done. Take a look.” He removes his arms and leans his head back up. You see that his eyes are blown but you try to ignore it for now. “Do you see the vision?”

“This is so dumb.” Is the only answer you get from him.

Next thing you know you’ve wrapped your hand around it and you start singing. “ANNNNDDDDD IIIIIIIII—eeeee-IIIIII will always love Y-“

You’re cut off because he’s gotten up grabbing you with him and now you’re thrown over his shoulder.

“I’m done with this. Not about to watch you sing Karaoke into my penis. You promised me a shower.”he says as he starts striding toward the bathroom.

“But I wasn’t done! I wanted to take pictures and maybe rap a verse or two. Kats wait dammit.”

“No. I was nice. I let you play and have your fun. Now it’s my turn to play around and have some fun.” You can hear the smug grin on his face.

You take this opportunity and slap his naked ass hard asf. You were right outside the bathroom door and the jerk sets you on your feet so quickly you feel like you’re gonna fall.

“You’re gonna pay for that brat.”

And oh do you pay for it.😭

Katsuki Masterlist

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @i-literally-cant-with-this @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife

*I have a tag list. Let me know if you wanna be added💕🤗

[astralnymphh]

YES PLEASE. BLOCKBUSTER ELLIE?? 90’s?? SIGN ME UP. WHERE DO I PUT MY NAME??😖😖🙏

- 🩵

a/n + cw; OMGG AN EMOJI ANON i haven't seen you guys in a hot minute, but YESSS BLOCKBUSTER ELLIE!! specifically x customer reader. it's a cute duo! and let me relay why from my very scrambled 3 am jot-down. was going to make this a blurb, but it better translates through something more structured. ++ SFW! kinda mean!reader tbh (but ellie likes that), very fluffy you might squeet, quickly written, awkwardness, ellie being a nerd. [first pic from amoaeIIie on pinterest]

Imagine Ellie, in her blockbuster getup, leaning her butt into the edge of the register counter, jamming to whatever is playing on her hand-me-down walkman; earsbuds in, eyes downcast, head bopping slowing - soundly unaware of you awaiting service on your over-due rental. "Hello?" your volume divides the soft ambiance of the store, but it isn't enough to rope Ellie's mindspace from the clouds. Calling out again, "Hell-looh?" you extend beyond the cash register and wave your hand - nothing, nada.

How the hell has this girl not gotten her ass fired yet?

After numerous roadblocks, a brazen last resort comes into play. You cut around the counter briefly to take things into your own hands (literally) because you have not the time, nor the patience, for her slacking off.

Beryl eyes drop sharply to the walkman in her pants pocket when a single earbud is spooled from her ear, assuming it fell - but to her surprise, it hung low from your finger, and a glance above that finger was your face. Risen of one brow, flat-lined of your lips; impatient.

And her entire focus blanks out when you begin to speak, curtly and satirically, "Hey, I know busting out your Dad's old walkman in public makes you feel cool and whatnot, but you're on the clock." handing the slim cord back over to a stunned girl, flushed behind the pop of her freckles. Maybe your tone of voice sent her higher into the clouds, past a coven of angels, because her lips part narrowly and remain still for a single second - save two or three. Or maybe it's 'cause you specified it as her 'Dad's' which was.. spot on.

And whatever excuse she had quickly cherry-picked for you, hesitated audibly in her throat before it split from it, "O-Oh, right, shit sorry - was about to end my shift n' thought the store was empty. My bad." scrambling to stuff the other earplug in her pocket and avert all attention to you. Very eagerly.

"Looks like you've got a late fee on this one.." her pitch pummeled deeper, and coarser as she concentrates on the clunky screen she hunches slightly to use. Scrunching the freckles of her face together, hogging the blue-lit screen. Poor girl probably forgot her glasses at home. "Annnd are you looking to rent the sequel?" she peeks her auburn head from the screen and holds up the cased movie, tracing her index over the plastic cleft, tapping twice. "To this - it has a second part."

There's no denying it: she is cute - and guilt rolls your guts around for being so snippy and sullen to her earlier. But based on her demeanor growing enthused the second she saw what movie you had in hand - she doesn't seem to care a hoot.

"Out of stock," replied you, indifferent-sounding - and strking; crossed arms, bent knee, stiffly-standing. Comparable to a millpond. "Guess I won't be the only person with late fees." you take a breath to jest, shaking loose strands of hair from your eyes.

"Haha," you're no world-class comedian; that joke wasn't all that funny, but the need to hurl any affirming noise at you, was necessary. Relenting to reflex. What can she say? Love at first sight! "Yeah, that seems like the agenda these days," Ellie sighs out, molding the plump of her lip under her teeth and reshapes it into a dorky smirk. Isn't she just a sweet chocolate-box of adorability?

"Hmm, bummer."

That hum and word trips into her ears, knocking some brain-cog, and an idea limns her features; they glow wide. "Actually - um, I've got a copy of the sequel at my place. Technically it's my Dad's, but.." her pitch fluctuates, mindlessly thumbing the case between two fiddly hands. "Maybe you can - if you want, not pressuring you or anything - come over?" she throws a pointed thumb backwards, motioning a potential future. "Watch it? If you weren't planning on watching it with somebody else."

Slick trick to seeing if you're single; of course you'd watch movies with your boyfriend - or girlfriend.

"Hmmm.." you hummed longer this time, and this time it admitted the mushrooming of an almost aggravating anticipation in her belly. Like you meant to torture her with 'hmms' and nothing but 'hmms' as your answer hung high in cloudy abeyance, until, "What's the name on your tag - ah, Ellie."

"Yeah?"

"Ellie," you confirm her name twice, and speak it to enthrall her full-scale attention. Made it sound fucking sugary sweet, through a swirly whisper and a twist of your head. "If you can give me a discount, or a full wipe on that late fee, then yes. It's a date."

Light panic ensues. "Date?" she croaks and laughs it off, "I mean - pshh, guess that's one way to put it." backtracking to her hunched, elbows-on-the-counter pose.

"You put it that way."

"Yeah, I just.. didn't wanna admit that." immediately, she uncurls her spine again, relaxing her muscles to somewhat peer at you. "Sure. No more fees." Rounded eyes lost - adamant on indirectly staring at you and the space below you, because Goddess forbid a stroke of idiocy flickers through her while gawking at you.

The store runs dead-quiet in the background of your conversation, leading you to one golden question. "Your shift over after this?"

Oh damn, her cheeks are pink. "Uh-huh," bet she's oblivious to that red-hot beam nearly bursting the seams to her face, too. Nasal lines fold as a severe smile tugs, shadowed by her bent thumb poking at it. "Takin' my car?"

And that's how you pick up girls at a video store in the 90s - the Ellie Williams way.

this isn't even the full idea

[yzzart]

okok but what about a fic with coriolanus based off of the unreleased version of national anthem, i want it all by lana del rey??? like she has the same ambitions and drive as him (a little coocoo) and they kind of just manipulate each other, but like they do really love each other yk?? food for thought 😙

"𝐁𝐲𝐞, 𝐛𝐲𝐞, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲!"

pairing: young!Coriolanus Snow x f!reader.

word count: 674!

summary: if you wanted one thing, Coriolanus would give it to you.

warnings: mention of manipulation, excerpts from "I want it all" by Lana Del Rey, Coriolanus needy and wrapped around reader's finger, reader sitting on Coriolanus' lap.

The word "frustration" was so mediocre in your tongue that, at times, it burned your with pure bitterness. — With such an immoral meaning, there is no meaning in your life.

And you didn't even have a drop of pleasure in mentioning it in secret, in front of and outside the harsh and venomous gazes of your classmates. — After all, you didn't want them to be able to associate your fascinating image with that word.

Even if, at times, that feeling of relief, tranquility in your life and especially in the financial sense, turned into a knot of frustration, disappointment with factors that didn't go your way. — Taken for days, completely, fragile and indiscreet. — You would never admit or mention it, not even with your dying breath.

However, there was one person among those neat and arrogant vipers who recognized your despair, observed your fragility with his deep and beautiful blue eyes; who paid attention to you, getting to know you. — Silently admiring your steps on clumsy days. — Watching how you manipulated those who had something that marked your interest.

You loved to seduce any look to achieve your greatest desires. — Mainly, the look so full of feelings, displeasures and sensitivities

Coriolanus understood your body language, and was surprised by it; in most times and situations, you didn't even need to say a word, not even release a sigh, because he already had in mind what could have happened. — And that he could use that to his advantage.

But the prodigal boy, so admired and recognized by the university and envied by the majority, had no capacity to involve and blackmail you; no, he couldn't. — And it was an ironic play, because Coriolanus would commit such an action with anyone. — Even if your situation, his life is at a moment of failure and, intensely, unpleasant.

Coriolanus, in his reason for wanting, wanting everything he wanted most in his life, or that could help him or even favor him, he would do anything. — To enjoy his power, to lift his mediocre life from misery and poverty, Coriolanus would do absolutely anything. — Just like you, even in different circumstances.

Like, maybe, he would do anything for you. — And maybe, you would do anything for him and for him. — However, the factors that could benefit you always come first.

"Do you think you'll kill for me one day?" — Your voice, lost, in pure sympathy and your hands passing through some white and curly locks that were stuck on his forehead; a sweet gesture for a slightly inappropriate moment.

Sitting between Coriolanus's thighs, you settled, beautifully, on his lap; as if it were his favorite seat. — The distress, which didn't bother your so much, from his rich-looking fabric pants touched your skin. — You were so relaxed, carefree.

And also wrapping the young boy Snow around your finger, with an invisible string before his eyes.

Coriolanus was stunned, his cheeks red and hot, swallowing hard and trying his best to remain conscious; he was funny so ridiculous. — The one worthy of the surname Snow, the one who had a promising future and drew confident and ambitious comedians, was nothing more than a trembling and needy soul.

He had the answer on the tip of his tongue, between his bright, reddish lips, but he hadn't committed to saying it. — Coriolanus felt his heart beating faster and faster, feeling like it would leave his chest at any moment and he wouldn't even have the ability to control it.

"Yes." — Coriolanus sighed, so breathless and marking his bluish irises and poisoned by attention on your lips and, soon, your eyes. — "Of course i will, my darling."

God, he wasn't lying; Coriolanus would never do such a merciless and deplorable thing against you. — Even in his last circumstances, in his worst second of life. — He felt so pathetic, sensitive but only you could make him feel that way.

Your lips curved into a gratifying smile, feeling satisfied and fortunate, and almost brushed against Coriolanus's. — You always got what you wanted and wanted most.

[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.

[its-time-to-write]

masterlist

i figured it was time to make one. it's in order based on when i wrote it. please, please let me know if a link is broken/mislabeled!!

*82 fics*

All of these are Jamie Tartt x reader

dress

Jamie and Keeley buy you a dress for the benefit gala

three times 'cause i've waited my whole life

secret relationship to engagement

you're losing me

first kid

don't make this any harder

Jamie wants to take you to Brazil, you’re both idiots

would hit him in a heartbeat now

Your ex boyfriend is a footballer and also a douche

silent sleepers

Jamie contemplates your relationship on the team bus

what it is

Jamie is sick ft. Roy

don't go wasting your emotion

Secret relationship + you own a bookshop! Ft. Roy and Keeley

you know, you'll always know me

You’re a famous singer! Congrats!

i don't know how you keep smiling/i'm just choking almost constantly

Jamie’s dad is a douche

i'll still be right next to you my dear

Jamie is a dad

can't really say i'm enjoying it now

Yikes it’s a breakup fic, but happy endings only in this house

mine of you with me

Reader and Jamie go semi-public with their relationship

today's a day like any other

The Tartt family thru the years

there's orange juice in the kitchen

Oof ouch period cramps

i can't breathe without you

Nate kisses you w/o consent

damned if i do give a damn what people say

You’re a theater actress! How exciting!

island made of faith

People think Jamie’s dumb, and he’s not

take your time while you're mine

You’re Roy’s other sister ft. all the Kents

honey, i'll give you all my time

Vienna. Enough said.

feeling fragile can't you tell

Jamie gets hurt

wrote all your lines in the script in my mind

Oh no! Some girl kissed Jamie and it wasn’t you! + Colin as the bff

stick together like glitter

Babysitting Phoebe + angst

your mind is not your friend

Angst + comfort after you have a bad hookup

chasing shadows in a grocery line

You’re pretty sure you have a hot stalker

don’t go yet

Tee hee protective Jamie at a club

kicking myself to keep from crying

The morning after your mind is not your friend

i think we could do it if we tried

High school sweethearts reunited after 6 years🥺

i’m glad you exist

You and Jamie go to a wedding

send for me

BREAKING: shit day at work made better by local boyfriend

tell me where to put my love

day off = food + snuggles

bored

The longest angst I’ve ever written. Def not the best angst I’ve ever written.

would it be enough if i never gave you peace

you’ve got baby fever and your pretty sure it’s going to kill your brother

wishing on every one

You own a flower shop. It’s adorable.

lyrical eyes, indigo smile

Bea meets the team for the first time!

something to rely on

You storm the pitch and smooch your bf

flipped the script

Enemies to lovers slow burn (or maybe fast burn, idk)

i fancy you

London Boy by ms. T. Swift

you don’t want to know me

Jamie shows up at your door after s.1 Man City

you’re in the kitchen humming

Post-Mom City

family that i chose

For the child-free girlies!

never wanted you to hate me

Pt. 2 of you don’t want to know me

wonderstruck

BFF Keeley tells you to give her awful ex a chance

in love with an idea

idk it’s like a confession of love? kinda cute

sinking into your worn-out mattress

Touch-deprived therapist! reader

you’re a mansion with a view

just two footballers doing an England promo, nothing to see here

i know what i’m doing

Post-Roy/Jamie locker room hug after Man City

wonder what it’d be like

Jamie tries to win you back

if only love were true

You’re a single mom in dire need of a plus-one

i know now it’ll pass

It’s hard to love someone when you’ve been told you don’t deserve it

the way it goes

The Greyhounds are protective of Jamie

how to love being alive

Idk this one’s like whatever and also supes long

there is happiness

GEORGIE GEORGIE GEORGIE

it’s just wanderlust

Relationship soft launch

glitter on the floor

You like to knit. You also think you’re a comedian.

maybe tomorrow you’ll know

The “he’s a prick to everyone but her” trope

hustling for the good life

I swear this is my last chaptered fic

let’s fall in love for the night

Kent!reader is having a baby

soft hands hit the jagged ground

friends w/benefits

for you, there’ll be no more crying

anxiety at work + bf jamie

smile at me

there was only one bed!!!!

slow motion double vision in rose blush

happy b-day Jamie Tartt

half-moon eyes

it’s just a question!

can’t hear my thoughts (i cannot hear my thoughts)

I’m allowed to write what i want, ok???

here in my arms

more Kent!reader + a baby named George

coffee at midnight

prick coach wakes you up bc of your prick boyfriend

healing me fine

Just a lil engagement fic for ya

i don’t know anything

if you’re interested in Bea

right words at the right time

It’s a wedding fic

move fast and keep quiet

boxer!reader + smitten Jamie

not saying you’re in love with me

You meet over Bantr!!!

we could be so good

Jamie comforts you after a bad date

i hold it like a grudge

i don’t even know how to describe this one but u might cry

there for you

sick fic

before you go

physio!reader

you’ll probably date her

chronic illness + childhood friends. gotta love it

feel it burn

Gym anxiety

play it back

Old movies of bb Jamie

ours

Thanksgivinggggg

light in the hallway

MORE Kent!reader

stuck by you

Bad family + good Jamie = fic

please don’t be

five chapters of sadness that definitely isn’t based on personal experience

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON) - CHAPTER ONE: CLOSURE

“IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME, AND SEEING THE SHAPE OF YOUR NAME STILL SPELLS OUT PAIN.”

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: strong language, angst, alcohol consumption, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.1K+

☆ A/N: this will make a whole lot more sense if you've already read the one shot that this entire series is based upon! and thank you to @fracturedarkness and @munson-blurbs for beta-reading <3

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

It had taken nearly two hours, and even as the aerial platform is finally lowered from scaling the side of the building, there are still remnants of the graffiti paint scattered across the crumbling brick. 

You’d watched the workers scrub at the rusted shades for ages, ignoring the new emails beginning to pile up in your inbox on the screen, only to be left completely dissatisfied. You hadn’t really thought the graffiti was ugly so to speak – it was just there. It was blatant and something that demanded to be seen, a stain on that stretch of wall that made up your desk’s entire viewpoint each and every day. And it wasn’t ugly, but it wasn’t pretty. 

You’d even been a little excited when you saw the cleaning crew. A little hopeful. 

But the hope had been wasted, as it always was, as you watch the crew give up the battle and the paint win the war. Go figure. Another day and another stain that can’t be erased. 

“You know, I’ve heard of dreadfully boring people watching paint dry, but never seen someone look so enticed by paint being removed.” 

You look up quickly from where your dead stare had zeroed in, a chipping splash of vibrant scarlet that hardly stood out against tired and faded red-turned-pink bricks, to face your coworker. 

“Ha-ha,” you deadpan, spinning your office chair so your entire body now faced her, “Have you ever considered a career change, Romina? Maybe you’re better off a comedian rather than an event planner.” 

Romina, your coworker, only smiles brightly at the monotone joke. She holds a mug of coffee in her hand as she rests her hip against the edge of your desk, lips pursed as she takes a slow sip from her steaming cup. The sharp, bitter scent of the coffee wafts across the space before she lowers the mug right onto your desk – completely disregarding the coaster available. 

Sure to leave behind a stain; a ring of light brown on your pristine desk. You can’t help but cringe. 

“Apparently they sent out an email about that new secretive project,” Romina continues on without addressing your sarcasm, “Said whoever’s got the account has been notified.”

“Awesome.”

“I didn’t get an email.”

“I’m sorry?”

Romina sighs, realizing you weren’t going to take the bait. “Have you received an email?”

You shrug in a silent succession of, probably not. 

Your pessimism keeps your hand from reaching out and wiggling your mouse as an attempt to wake your desktop computer back up. You highly doubt you were the one to be elected for this new project that had the entire office buzzing. You’d only been working here for a little over a year, hardly earning any attention with the small weddings and local business grand openings you had taken on during that time. 

And that was fine.

You were fine flying under the radar for the time being. It’s not that you weren’t good at your job — you were excellent at it, even — but whatever this top secret project was was the farthest thing from your expertise.

You didn’t do secretive projects. You did simple. You did small. The exact opposite of what you’d heard about this elusive opportunity. 

“Have you even checked?” Romina presses, leaning down and tapping your space bar herself, making the screen come to life before you could protest, “C’mon, babe! Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?” 

Another honest shrug. “Truthfully? Not at all.” 

She makes no move to grab her coffee cup as she pushes herself off your desk, standing over the screen now with intent and focus. All you can really think about is that damn faded ring that’s going to be left behind.

You really wish she would have used the coaster.

The login screen stops her in her mission, making her take a step back and wave you forward, pointing excitedly at your keyboard, “You know, I heard it might have something to do with a very popular band. One rumored to be dropping an album soon. Possibly the album release party. Doesn’t that sound dreamy?” 

Your stomach drops.

Romina is all wistful sighs and dreamy eyes as she says it, still pushing that keyboard closer to you as she looks out the window you had been before her arrival. It’s clear she’s looking right past that stained wall. She probably doesn’t even notice the evidence of graffiti that was left behind. The marks are lost on her eyes; but she hadn’t spent hours waiting for it to all be cleaned away, to be fair. No, it’s clear the only thing on her mind is this popular band.

And you know which band it is. It’s not just the prospect of a larger project that has kept you out of this rumor mill — it’s the prospect of the client.

Everyone knew you didn’t care for the band. Or at least, you said you didn’t care for the band.

Nearly a year ago, several coworkers had invited you to a sold out show. They had an extra ticket, and had so kindly extended it to you. A flag of friendship billowing in the wind, outstretched to you in such a welcoming manner. And you’d shot them down — you’d lied, and you’d said you had plans before you’d spent the entire night throwing your own personal pity party.

“I don’t think I’d be the first choice for an album release party, Ro,” you murmur as you finally tug your chair in closer to your desk. You ignore the knots forming in your stomach, that heavy weight that presses into your chest. There was no way you’d be assigned the project. You’d simply log in, show Romina, and then maybe she’d leave you alone, “I usually just take on weddings. That’s my forte. Not arranging open bars and booking rooftops for some shitty band.” 

Romina scoffs, “Some shitty band? I know you don’t like them, but Corroded Coffin is not just some shitty band.”

Corroded Coffin. The weight makes your ribs creak, makes your lungs ache. 

You swear she’ll notice the way you freeze in your typing. The mere mention of them, of him, curls around your body and easily triggers your fight or flight response. 

Well, fight or flight or freeze. A new option, a new and drifting cold, has made itself clear as ice keeps your knuckles from continuing to type in your password. 

It’s funny. You used to fight for them, then you’d flown as far away from him as your pathetic diner wages could get you. Clearly, only moving across a city you once thought to be so vast wasn’t far enough. You could move across oceans, and something in your gut tells you his ghost would only be a few steps behind. 

“You know, I still don’t get your issue with them, by the way. Are you just not big on rock music?” she asks, and you can imagine his offense and correction that it was metal, not just rock, “I get it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I don’t know. Just seems a little personal, the way you avoid them like the plague.”

It is personal.

Your vendetta is so, so very personal when it comes to Corroded Coffin. 

When it comes to Eddie Munson.

His name echoing in your mind finally has your fingertips slamming keys again, suddenly eager to bring up your email and prove Romina wrong. To get her as far from your desk as possible and end this conversation before you can spiral.

“I’ve never been a fan of that type of music,” you lie through your teeth. You had been. You had been their goddamn number one fan once upon a time. 

Your work email can’t load fast enough when she continues on, “I’d argue they have at least one song for everyone. You just gotta give them a chance.” 

No, the voice in your head screams. I do not need to give them a chance. I gave him a chance, and he blew it. 

“I’m sure there is,” you grit out, those knots in your stomach wound so tightly they might just snap, “But not for me.” 

Never for me.

They don’t know. No one in your life now knew about your past, about your ex, about the truth between you and Corroded Coffin. 

They didn’t know that you’d been their first fan, standing in that stuffy garage at the Emerson’s residency through the scalding Hawkins’ summers. They didn’t know how you’d spent every Tuesday and Thursday night occupying a stool at the Hideout that had all but your name engraved into it. They didn’t know the way you’d packed up your entire life, the way you’d only moved to this cursed concrete jungle to see all of their wildest dreams come true. They were unaware that Corroded Coffin had nearly turned down the tour that triggered their breakout for you. All because their leading rockstar hadn’t wanted to leave you behind.

Funny how life works out.

Romina is unaware of your discomfort as she leans down over your shoulder to peer at the list of new emails you’d received this morning, “Oh, oh! That one! Click that one!” 

Her long, blood-red stiletto nail taps at the screen excitedly, pointing out an email from your boss with an eye catching subject line.

Meeting at Noon — New Project Assignment. 

“Holy shit!” Ro exclaims, getting ahead of herself before you’ve even clicked on the email. You can’t click on it. You’re petrified. “Oh, holy shit! You definitely got the project! Are you fucking kidding me?” 

For a moment, you’re silent, staring at the screen in buzzing shock. It rings in your ears and it blurs the edges of your vision, the weight of the possibility finally causing the first snap within your chest. 

No. No, no, no. 

You don’t want this project. Not the rumored client, and certainly not the attention that it has attracted from all your peers. No.

“We don’t even know if it’s going to be what everyone says it will be,” you choke out, white knuckling your mouse. Romina can’t see your face — she can’t see the year of practiced indifference crumbling so easily, “It- It probably won’t be Corroded Coffin, Ro. It can’t be. They wouldn’t assign me something so huge. Th-They probably just have another wedding for me. Maybe another bakery opening up in town — I think I heard about one on Third Street-“ 

Ro’s hands come down on your shoulders, giving what should be a reassuring squeeze, but it only smothers you during your breathless rant.

“Babe,” she emphasizes, “This is a good thing.” 

It’s not. It’s really, really not. 

But you don’t know if the project is what everyone has been murmuring about. You don’t know for sure that the email has anything to do with it. The contents of what your boss had written to you have little to no specifics; nothing more than a request to come to her office at noon to properly discuss the details of this assignment. So you convince yourself it’ll be fine, that it really is just about that bakery opening up on third street. You convince yourself to shake away any thoughts of chestnut curls and honey brown eyes. You convince yourself to untense your shoulders and smile up at your coworker, faking enough enthusiasm to satiate her until she’s walking away from your desk giddily, taking her coffee cup with her. 

Your eyes avert to the expected coffee mark that had formed a perfect ring on your stark white desk. 

Stained. What a pesky thing to become. 

—

“I’m not going out tonight,” you repeat yourself for the millionth time over the line, pinching the phone between your shoulder and ear as you opened your fridge to dig around for whatever leftovers you might be able to salvage into a dinner for the night, “I don’t feel well.” 

“But we need to hear about the new project!” Ro’s chirp comes over the line. You can hear the buzzing of a bar in the background. Glasses clinking, strangers chatting. Hell, you could probably pinpoint the song playing lowly if you focused hard enough.

You weren’t focusing on the call, though. It was the last thing you wanted to offer up your dwindling attention to, desperate to get off the line and resume your very exciting night of cold pasta with a side of whatever sitcom was running old episodes on the television. 

The phone nearly slips from your half assed attempt to keep it against your cheek as you sigh, “It went fine. I already told you guys it did. Nothing exciting, okay? It was the bakery on Third that’s opening up, just like I thought it would be.” 

A lie.

The meeting went anything but fine. Your boss, Lydia, has just been plain secretive. And normally, that wouldn’t bother you, but it meant your worst fears were coming true. 

The bakery on third wouldn’t have needed such secrecy, and they sure as Hell wouldn’t have insisted on you signing an NDA prior to even meeting and discussing the event you’d be planning. 

“It’s all just precautions,” Lydia had insisted as she slid that damn paperwork over to you, “Just to protect the client. They’re a bigger name than we’re used to dealing with. If you sign, we’ll have a proper meeting with them tomorrow and dig into all the nitty gritty.” 

“You phrase it like I have a choice,” you had muttered before picking up the pen.

You knew you didn’t. And Lydia’s smile had confirmed it. 

Romina continues on with more convincing, but you’ve stopped listening. There’s not a single thing she could really say now that your mind was made up — you were staying in tonight. 

“Ro,” you finally snatch the phone back up into your hand, straightening out as you pick out a random tupperware that you think holds chicken parm from that fancy lunch date you’d gone on over the weekend, “I’m not coming out. I’m sorry.” 

Complete silence on her end. You worry for a moment that you had been too harsh. 

“Okay,” she finally gives up.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” the word continues to echo back and forth between you two, “That’s fine. I’ll just have to bother you about it tomorrow. At work. Where you can’t use bullshit excuses to escape me.” 

You consider snapping back about how you absolutely still could, until you consider the fact that you have a real excuse, “Good luck with that. I have a very real meeting with… with a client.”  

You don’t even know the name of the client, technically. You can only guess. 

You still hope you’re wrong.

“Right,” she laughs over the line, “See you tomorrow, babe.” 

“See you tomorrow,” you repeat back, staring at your now closed fridge before you’re relieved by the sound of a dial tone, signaling that she’s finally hung up. 

What you should do now is plate the leftovers, arrange yourself on your sofa, and numb your mind with The Office reruns. What you should do is leave well enough alone and continue in your delusion. 

You don’t. 

It starts innocently; you do transfer the cold chicken parm onto a plate and you do curl up on your sofa before flicking on the television. You do set the channel to the reruns. You do – and you swear you do it all with the best intentions. 

But then your mind wanders. 

As you stare straight ahead at the television, you’re not processing a single image that flashes across the screen. Your thoughts are a bit preoccupied with different images, movies and snippets from a point in your life that now feels like a lifetime ago. Conspicuous dimples making an appearance from across the room at a joke you had made, unkempt curls flying recklessly in the driver’s seat beside you on late night drives with the windows down, wild eyes shining like sunlight through a whiskey bottle as he catches your gaze from a stage much smaller than what he must be used to now. 

Everything from before. Before the not-fight, before the fame, before the move. Images of when Eddie had been yours and only yours, not yet a precious gem to have to share with the world. 

“Are you busy tonight?” 

Your locker had been slammed shut by a hand that didn’t belong to you, knuckles adorned with familiar rings and distinct callouses along the fingertips. 

“Hello to you, too, Eddie,” you smiled as you clutched one of the unnecessarily heavy textbooks to your chest, turning to face the boy who stood impatiently at your side. He was all jitters, rocking on his heels and nearly incapable of standing still as his body buzzed with excitement.

It rolled off him in waves, contagious as he leaned into you, “Yes, yes. Hello, sweetheart. How was your day?” you opened your mouth to answer him, but Eddie comically steamrolled right on, hands waving erratically, “Good? Good! Excellent! Now, are you busy tonight?”

“I was planning to study for O’Donnel’s test-“

“So you don’t have plans!” he exclaimed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as one of the annoying warning bells chimed. He may have been in an interruptive mood, but he knew you hated being late to class — less about being anal about punctuality, and more about the stares you’d practically burn under from the attention of other students when you’d barge in on the teacher mid-sentence, “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. In that case, I have fantastic news!” 

You allowed him to guide you amongst the bustling student bodies, only gaining a few stares from fellow peers, “You do, do you?” 

He nodded before he reached out and snatched that heavy textbook out of your arms, “Here, let me carry that for you, darling.” 

“Darling?” your nose scrunched, “Oh, no. You’re trying to sweeten me up. What did you do?” 

“Nothing!”

Liar. The crack in his voice would have given him away if his hyperactive energy hadn’t already done so.

“Oh, really? Then what’s your fantastic news, rockstar?” 

His grin that broke at your nickname for him could have destroyed the Earth you walked on just as easily as it could have mended it. Something groundbreaking, something to churn the dirt and raise the dead. Something made of pure sunshine and static happiness. But the only thing that cracked was your chest as it tried to contain the residual joy it felt for him in that moment. 

“Well…” he trailed off, leaving just enough room for a suspenseful pause that could have suffocated the room without that damn grin on his face, “Let’s just say you’re looking at the frontman of the Hideout’s newest Thursday night entertainment.” 

You took a moment to catch on, Eddie keeping you pressed closely to his side as the two of you stopped outside of your next class. 

“Thursday nights?” you questioned, brain working overtime to piece together what he’d just said, “Wait, I thought you guys only played Tuesda-“

When you had processed what he had meant, all that animated elation that had been consuming him became shared. Every jitter in his bones became your own, your own lips speedily spreading into a proud smile to challenge his own.

“Oh, holy shit,” you gasped, “You guys got the gig.”

One more bounce of his heels, curls quivering with the movement as his arms fell from you and the two of you faced one another.

“We got the gig.”

“You got the gig!” 

People had been staring more obviously at the sudden rise in volume from you, but you hadn’t cared. Because in that moment, all you focused on was the eager boy in front of you, and the way your broken chest mended from the same grin that had burst it wide open, only for it to swell with inexplicable pride.

“We got the fuckin’ gig!” he shouted right back, laughter slipping from between his lips that started to echo your own. 

You were the one bouncing then, hands instinctively reaching out to press on his shoulders in gentle slapping motions, unable to contain or conventionally express this pounding excitement. 

“You got the fuckin’ gig!” you were just parroting each other now, but you were just as delirious as he was as that final bell signaling you were late rang out. That certain embarrassment you were sure to have to face had become a distant memory.

Eddie had wanted this for a while. He’d been bugging the owner of the bar on the edge of town about Corroded Coffin earning a second night of residency for months, only taking the repeated rejections as encouragement to ramp up his convincing charm. You’d seriously doubted it would work, but had never voiced the concern aloud to Eddie. You’d always figured that the worst that could have happened would be another no, fuck off, kid. But the best that could have happened had been this — he would be told yes and secure his band two weekly performances at the Hideout rather than just the single one they played before. 

You didn’t know it then, but it was the first step down the path that would lead to inevitable heartbreak. 

“I haven’t even told the guys yet,” Eddie admitted once the two of you calmed down to the best of your abilities, “I… Uh, I wanted to tell them after school today. Was wondering if you might, I don’t know, maybe- do you wanna be there when I do?” 

And that made sense. Eddie inviting you made sense when you attended every single band practice in Gareth’s garage as religiously as he did. When you knew every word to their whole three original songs even better than him at times. 

He wanted you there. You were important to him, to the band, and he wanted you there. 

“I- Is that even a question?” you stared at him in disbelief, “Of course I wanna be there, you fuckin’ idiot. I can’t believe you told me before you told them, honestly.” 

His demeanor softened, the ghost of his exuberance still stubbornly lingering. But your eyes were on him, glowing with such high regard that it was impossible to not let it creep beneath his skin and trigger a blush across the bridge of his nose. All that love, all that pride. So genuine it could have made him cry. 

“Of course I told you first,” he whispered in a finally empty hallway, “You’re always the first person I tell any good news to, sweetheart.” 

When had you stopped being the first person he shared his forthcomings with? 

Probably the day you had decided to leave him, leave the entire life you two had built together, under the guise of best intentions. 

The TV continues to play as you stare at the wall, mind and heart alike locked up with nostalgia. The plate of leftovers has long since been sat down on the coffee table. 

You hadn’t let yourself reminisce like this since the very first night you had spent in your apartment. That first night, you’d allowed yourself to wallow. You had sat on this very same sofa, the entire apartment pitch black as you weren’t brave enough to turn on a single light and face yourself, and told yourself that any and all tears or regrets had to be purged that night. A funeral for all that you had lost, a single night to mourn all that you had left behind. 

Clearly, one night was never enough to let go of years of memories – of love. 

You don’t shut off the TV as you impulsively grab your phone, not thinking the action through before you do the one thing you had forbidden yourself from over the last few years; you’re going to Google search Eddie Munson. You’d created the rule as a make-believe step in the right direction. You told yourself if you didn’t google him, if you didn’t track down his every move after you’d left behind the damage done, then you could move on easier. 

From the first headline, you realize that it might have never been about moving on. 

FINAL NAIL IN THE COFFIN? HAS EDDIE MUNSON, LEAD SINGER OF CORRODED COFFIN, FINALLY GONE TOO FAR?

EDDIE MUNSON — ARRESTED AGAIN?

HOTEL COMES FORWARD ABOUT DAMAGES DONE BY ROWDY ROCKSTAR EDDIE MUNSON

HOW TO BURY A CAREER: A DETAILED TIMELINE OF CORRODED COFFIN’S EDDIE MUNSON’S DOWNFALL

“EDDIE MUNSON GAVE ME A CONCUSSION” - VICTIMS OF THE ROCKSTAR’S CLUB TANTRUM COME FORWARD.

Each headline sends your head reeling, eyes widening impossibly without even clicking on the stories. 

The boy you had known wouldn’t have done half of the things these accusations stated. Violence, trashing hotel rooms, public temper tantrums taken too far — it doesn’t feel as though you’re reading about someone you once knew, someone you once loved. The man in these paparazzi photos is a stranger, completely unrecognizable with his red eyes and middle fingers held high. 

A particular photo catches your attention. He’s standing outside what you assume is a club, in handcuffs. His hands are locked behind his back, an officer not far behind and his face bathed in glows of blue and red lights flashing from a car half blocking the camera’s view of him, and he’s grinning with dead eyes squinted to the sky. It almost looks as if he’s midlaugh — as if the entire scene was funny to him.

The one time he’d nearly been caught while pedaling drugs for Reefer Rick back home in Hawkins when you’d still known him, he had nearly burst into tears. Had panicked as he scrambled to shove everything, even just the weed, into every possible hiding place within his van. He hadn’t laughed in the officer’s face; he had been petrified, face transforming to that of a terrified little boy as you had told him to calm down and play it cool. 

You should stop scrolling. But you can’t.

Another photo, one that makes your chest echo with another hollow pang. It was clearly taken without him realizing it, the quality atrocious as the camera had attempted to focus in on him through a balcony sliding door of what must be a hotel. But despite the terrible blur, you can clearly pick out the details that were meant to be exposed. 

A speckle of white coating the ring of his nostril. Made even more obvious by that midday sun shining in on him. 

It was clearly the middle of the afternoon, and Eddie had clearly been caught snorting cocaine.

It’s a bit much. You haven’t even scrolled far enough to catch sight of all the pap photos of him with different women, or the photos of him clearly inebriated at major events that had been meant to celebrate him and the band’s success. You lock your phone, you set it down on the table with the screen facing down. You hardly recognize him. 

The reality is you had never googled Eddie for the same reason most won’t look at the corpse of loved one’s at open casket funerals – you wanted to remember him when things had been good. You had wanted to convince yourself that you still knew him, some version of him, and that he hadn’t become a total stranger.

But, really, you’d known the moment you had walked out of that once shared apartment that you had lost the privilege of knowing him. Of loving him. The moment he had stopped telling you that he loved you, you had known something between the two of you had died. Losing Eddie hadn’t been a sudden thing — it had been a long, painful, torturous process. When all that love and all that promise had died, it hadn’t gone down without a fight. He had smothered it, but you had provided the extinguisher. You had pushed him to chase after his dreams, and you should have never been surprised when he did exactly that.

You should have never been surprised that one day, the space you’d claimed residency in in Eddie’s heart would become nothing more than an annoying prick to him. A thorn in his side, sharp and threatening all that he had worked so hard to achieve.

So you’d left. You’d left, told yourself it was for the best, and exited with more love for the memory of a man than the tangible person on the other end of that terribly lonely dial tone – on the rare occasions he did call. 

You didn’t know him. It’s a truth you should have long since swallowed, but hadn’t. Not yet. Not in the last two years.

Your appetite is gone as you stand from the couch and grab the leftovers, only pausing on your way to the kitchen to scrape the waste off into the trash can. What a waste. As you put away the plate into the sink, not bothering to wash or even rinse away the crumbs, you immediately grab one of your few wine glasses and set it on the counter. Drinking wasn’t the wisest idea, but your body has begun to move on autopilot. And it seems convinced that feeling the buzz from alcohol would be better than the feeling of nothing at all. 

You didn’t know him anymore. And the space you’d still let him occupy in your memories, whether you’d wanted to admit it or not, was now hollow.

You turn your back on the glass, still numb and still reeling as you open the fridge and pull out a half empty bottle of merlot, cork half peeking out the top of the bottle. You can see that stained bottom half, almost half hidden in a weak attempt to preserve the wine inside. Maroon. Deep, deep maroon bleeds up and feathers at the edges of that cork as you pull it out fairly aggressively, carelessly tossing it onto the white countertop and not watching it bounce as you pour yourself a drink. 

In your hollow staring off into the distance, you don’t realize you’ve missed the glass in your pouring until the chilled liquid splashes at your knuckles – until it’s too late. You panic, grabbing at paper towels and rinsing off your hand in the same breath, but it’s clear that it’s a useless battle in cleaning up the mess you’ve made. 

The damage is already done. As you soak up the wine and swipe away, a pink-tinged blotch is still left behind. 

Stained. What a pesky thing to become.

ghost's taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @figmentofquinn @bebe07011 @barbedwirebats @ayooooo0 @neverlearnedcivility @munson-enthusiast @digwhatudug @wow-cam @daddysmodifiedprincess2 @cancankiki @gothmingguk @nix-rose @thesesuggestedblognamesbegreat @chevelle724 @madaboutjoe @take-everything-you-can @josephquinnsfreckles @conquerwhatliesahead92

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain

[a-a-a-anon]

appreciation post for Lise Mayer!! she co-wrote The Young Ones (and The Bachelor Boys book, additional material like when they did Comic Relief, etc), which is well known. but she also wrote for other things in the alternative comedy scene like Rik Mayall and Ben Elton's comedy tour (source: BBC Breakfast Time interview)! and, something I didn't know until recently: she co-wrote/wrote for Kevin Turvey! she's not credited in his television appearances, but see below for sources.

i really loved the podcast episode she did with Alexei Sayle about TYO, you gain a lot of insight into her perspective! she also mentions misogynistic treatment like being asked to go make tea when they were doing script readings, not getting invited to a big BBC party because it was presumed she'd be Rik's plus-one, and getting groped at the BBC bar. it pissed me off on her behalf and partly prompted this post.

some specific accolades/accreditation/fun facts:

Rik crediting her with writing/conceiving the Kevin Turvey non-joke "All right, biting political satire: What do Lech Walesea and Menachem Begin have in common? They’ve both got foreign names! What do you mean it’s not funny?" (x)

Alexei Sayle in Thatcher Stole My Trousers crediting Lise with co-writing Turvey: "Lise was, like Linda for mine, a vital part of Rik’s career, co-writing both The Young Ones and Rik’s character Kevin Turvey..."

a 1987 source for Lise co-writing Turvey: "The assumption that women do not write comedy scripts was one with which Lise Mayer, co-writer of The Young Ones television series, has also had to contend. She started writing for Rik Mayall’s Kevin Turvey in the television series A Kick Up the Eighties..." (x)

Rowland Rivron (comedian who toured with The Comic Strip gang and lived with Rik and Lise) in What the f*** did I do last night?: "[Lise] also had the unenviable job of standing at the side of the stage when Rik was performing, and jotting down anything he said that was unscripted. If it got a laugh, it would be woven into the next night’s routine."

the only time i've ever seen a Rik Mayall/Ade Edmondson/Lise Mayer writing credit: for a poem called Distance which was collected in this anthology! Rik and Ade seem to have acted it out (or at least a version of it) in this 20th Century Coyote performance

Rik on Lise writing TYO: "‘She discovers different things: the comedy of embarrassment and awkwardness – she draws out the cheating and stealing that goes on in the house.’" (x) (Lise also says her "favorite comedy was always the comedy of embarrassment" in the Alexei Sayle podcast)

Rik: "... Lise Mayer wrote this great scene where I find a tampon in a handbag and it's my birthday party and I think it's a present because my character is Rick, who is such a git, he didn't know." (x)

Helen Lederer in Not That I'm Bitter, writing about being on The Young Ones: "[Lise] was known to be the brains behind it all, particularly the more surreal elements…"

she and Rik chose the bands (x)

Lise: “We’d have a table read at which point we’d discover that the script ran over an hour long, and then I’d have a sleepless night editing it.” Alexei: “You did that?” Lise: “Usually me, yeah…” (she later explains they'd present the script Monday and rehearsals were Tuesday, Wednesday-so she literally had one night to edit!) (x)

facts from the blu-ray commentary tracks:

Rick's yellow dungarees in Interesting were based off a picture of Lise in a similar pair

Lise wrote an essay about the tampon joke in Interesting so that the BBC didn't cut the scene (though they still edited it)

Paul Jackson (producer) credits Lise with arguing "you are seriously telling me that we cannot refer on television to something that happens to 50% of the population for about 30 years of their life? and we're not allowed to even refer to it" to make an executive back off about the tampon joke in a meeting

Lise came up with Neil's flowerpot covering in Nasty

Vyvyan/Vivian's name comes from Lise having lived in Vyvyan Terrace, Bristol

Lise thought of the cast switching costumes in Bambi (one of my favorite moments!!) (/end of commentary track facts)

this is guesswork, but i've seen Ben Elton and Rik Mayall's handwriting and i'm pretty sure the editing/handwriting on the bottom left on this script must be Lise's, which gives insight into what/how she wrote: (x)

i feel like it's easy for people to overlook or minimize Lise's impact, something that happens to female creators far too often. i hate when women's identities are framed around their association to a man-girlfriend to Rik in this case-which was the norm whenever i saw Lise discussed in articles/books/online discussions about TYO. it's important to know she was a writer and co-creator with her own identity and (underappreciated) contributions. The Young Ones (and Kevin Turvey, and things we don't even know she goes uncredited for) would not have been the same—or wouldn't have even existed—without her!

[fluidstatick]

I dunno, man. (game changer finale talk under the cut)

I love the chemistry of Brennan, Jess, Grant, Ally, Rekha, Katie, and Zac. An excellent spread of comedy styles, and they're all tight enough friends that they can strategize with (and against) each other easily. Ally, hiding behind Brennan, who is hiding behind Rekha, just in a different context -- Truly only this crew could pull off something like that. The Landlord and Granma Sweetie are such perfect distillations of Jess and Zac's energy.

Names aside, I thought Jack and Jackson were too similar. Katie and Grant were both trying to be the straight (lol) man in the building, and for me, that meant they cancelled each other out.

Adjustable Side Table Walnut was absolutely robbed. Rekha had pitch perfect banter with everyone (except Steven), did an excellent job figuring everyone else out, and didn't give any hints until it was time to boot Brennan. She absolutely should have won, on merit of playing the game thoroughly and hilariously.

As for the ratfish? Well.

Listen, I never watched Adult Swim. I only know Tim and Eric by name. I've never watched anything they've done. It was only last monday when I learned that this guy is Tim:

And this guy is Eric:

I literally thought that he was some sort of amateur astrophysics youtuber (?) and that gif was from some video he made about quantum mechanics, or string theory or something. I blame the turtleneck.

Anyway, I digress. Just from watching this, I don't find Eric Wareheim funny. According to a few posts I've seen in the dropout tags, though, his brand is mostly awkward anti-comedy anyway? Nothing wrong with that, it's just not my speed. It felt strange to go ive him so much power over the game. Sam was probably going for an impartial judge, someone who doesn't know the cast personally and can decide who their favorite is without the cast members themselves influencing their decision. That being said, there are so many different people Sam could've gone with. I still think it shoulda been Sam Reigel, cosplaying as Sam Reich. "Look at me. I'm the Sam now! I've been present for the duration!" Could've been any number of LA based comedians, really.

Eric's choices felt completely left field. Ally started strong with their BLeeM gambit, sure, but I really think Adjustable Side Table Walnut deserved more shine. Katie winning solely for the art piece felt anticlimactic, especially because the painting felt like a Katie piece, not a Jack Stryker piece.

The cast not getting to meet Eric felt unfair, too, unless for some reason he had to leave before the final table was assembled and shot.

The cackle at the end didn't feel like a cliffhanger so much as a taunt. We get it, Samuel Dalton, you're still out here wrecking shop and our frantic theorizing on discord and reddit is all for naught.

anyway tl;dr - Ratfish 🫤. Justice For Side Table Walnut! MeDeCine.

[shakeyloner]

Here is a college paper I wrote about BoJack Horseman having BPD for my psychological disorders class about the depictions of mental and mood disorders.

The teacher was an actual clinical psychologist and I got a 100, with the average being an 86% so take that as you will.

A Critique of the Depiction of Borderline Personality Disorder

Of Character “Bojack Horseman” in Netflix’s “Bojack Horseman”

PSYCH-433

By: (You Don’t get to know)

4/3/2024

“BoJack, just stop. You are all the things that are wrong with you. It’s not the alcohol, or the drugs, or any of the shitty things that happened to you in your career, or when you were a kid. It’s you. Alright? It’s you.” (“BoJack Horseman” Episode 310). Although this is something you should never say to someone with any mental illness, it seems to encapsulate what Borderline Personality Disorder and BoJack Horseman’s apparent struggle with it throughout the series. Although an animated“comedy”show about an anthropomorphic horse who was a past star in a 90s sitcom, now living life as a washed-up star may not sound like the greatest representation of Borderline Personality Disorder, throughout the six-season story, we are able to see how BoJack’s relationships can be affected by it, along with items in his past that could have brought it about.

Let’s start with how BoJack fits the DSM description of BPD, and how he might not. The requirements within the DSM require to show 5 (or more) symptoms of 9 presented. These include: Extreme reactions to abandonment, whether real or perceived; a pattern of intense and stormy relationships with family, friends, and loved ones, ranging from idealization to extreme dislike; Impulsive and often dangerous behaviors; Recurring suicidal behaviors or threats, or self harming behavior. Intense and highly changeable moods, Chronic feelings of emptiness; inappropriate or intense anger, and stress-related paranoid thoughts or severe dissociative symptoms. BoJack checks lots of these boxes, so let’s go through each one, and give an example if it applies.

BoJack is incredibly afraid of abandonment. It is shown several times throughout the series that he is scared when people he knows leaves, such as his half-sister Hollyhock, who after trying to distance herself from him tells him that he is forcing himself into her life, as he becomes a professor at the college she attends. However, nothing is more apparent of his fear of abandonment than his relationship with his roommate Todd. He constantly puts him down, as to keep him to stay at his house indefinitely. This is most apparent when Todd presents his Rock-Opera. BoJack, as his friend, tells him, “That was, and I don’t say this lightly, worse than a hundred September 11ths”. However, once the Rock Opera seems like it might be picked up, and Todd might become successful and leave his house, BoJack sabotages Todd’s chances by getting him addicted to a video game he played as a teenager, which makes Todd fail his pitches to possible producers.

BoJack’s stormy relationships are about half of the show and I could likely fill three pages of just this. He has an on-again off-again relationship with his Agent, Princess Carolynn. His relationship with his roommate, Todd, is often broken based on the consequences of his actions, along with those of his friend and ghost-writer Diane. A romantic relationship with a co-star turned rocky when he nearly choked her to death, as she wanted to leave him, and wanted him to stop with substance abuse. Finally, his relationship with what could be considered best friend, Herb Kazzaz, ended with them not speaking for twenty years after Bojack “stabbed him in the back” while not defending him from media heat. Herb was a comedian who helped start BoJack’s successful career, being a writer for the show he starred in, and despite being his best friend, when the media found out that Herb was gay, leading to his removal from the show, BoJack did nothing to stand up for him, because it believed it would affect his professional career.

He has a terrible sense of self, constantly asking himself, “Am I a good person?”, flipping from wanting to be a star and do more shows to rejecting offers, and leaving projects mid-shoot. In season 1, he approaches his friend Diane, asking, “I need you to tell me that I’m a good person. I know that I can be selfish and narcissistic and self-destructive, but underneath all that, deep down, I’m a good person, and I need you to tell me that I’m good, Diane… Tell me, please Diane, tell me that I’m good…”. Along with that, after catching his life-long dream role, of Secretariat, he leaves the film, mid-production to do something else.

His impulsive and dangerous behaviors are one of the most evident. He goes through several “benders” throughout the show, ranging from alcohol to prescription and hard street drugs. He is known as an alcoholic to his friends and even attends rehab (multiple times), which actually lines up with studies. “In men, borderline personality disorder is more likely to co-occur with disorders such as substance abuse” Along with this he has poor spending habits, such as buying a boat, and an entire restaurant when heated.

He has few, though some recurring suicidal behaviors and threats. This is evident through him driving with his eyes closed accelerating on the highway while letting the wheel go, and when he tells a current girlfriend that unless she tells him that she loves him, he’s going to hang himself, albeit in the form of autoerotic asphyxiation. This may be one of the symptoms he shows the least of, however, because although he is depressed throughout much of the show, suicide is never really his answer to it, rather filling his life with drugs and alcohol.

He does have very changeable moods as well. This is often seen through anger, which I will also cover number 8 with this, that he will be fine one minute, then filled with rage the next, such as yelling at someone over muffins in a grocery store, or going on rants when someone puts pressure on him or he doesn’t get what he wants. Very rarely does this turn into physical anger or abuse, most of the time resulting in him taking drugs.

His feelings of emptiness and boredom seem to create tons of his problems. He has the need to fill his life with something, but he doesn’t know what. He sometimes wants to get back into filming shows, but fails to go through with that, and fills his life with whatever he can. He has rewatched his own sitcom several times to deal with this boredom, and his emptiness can be described through his quote, “you’re going to do everything in your power to fill that hole with friends and your career and meaningless sex, but the hole doesn’t get filled. And one day, you’re going to look around and you’re going to realize that everybody loves you, but nobody likes you, and that is the loneliest feeling in the world.” (“Bojack Horseman” 305).

Finally, are stress-related paranoid thoughts or severe dissociative symptoms. This is the entirety of episode 511, “The Show-Stopper”. The entire episode shows BoJack’s inability to discern reality from the TV Show that he is filming. He believes that someone in the real world is out to get him, despite it being a part of the show, and the show continues to flip between parallels of BoJack’s personal life, to the show, highlighting him losing touch with what is real and what is not.

Finally, all of this can be attributed to past trauma and relationship to his parents. His father would constantly avoid him, and when he was around, would verbally abuse him, and was even shown getting him drunk. This is after BoJack walked in on him having an affair with his secretary. Finally, he was very absent from BoJack’s life, reflected in the episode “The View From Halfway Down”. While dreaming about a dinner with important people from his life, his father is absent, and is instead represented by the racehorse “Secretariat”, who BoJack idolized as a child, showing he might have turned to the racehorse as a father figure more than his actual biological father. Even more, his mother, though we aren’t given too much, has also shown BPD symptoms, including heavy drinking, mood swings, and the idea of abandonment, when her mother sort of “left” after receiving a lobotomy. This could point to the biological risk factor of BPD, though his environmental factors are much more readily apparent.

The show, given a whole six seasons, gives great room to show how Bojack Horseman displays Borderline Personality Disorder. Although he is oftentimes depressed, and even empty, I feel the show could more highlight this part of the disorder. It is an animated comedy, it isn’t meant to be a perfect one-to-one, and a person not doing anything doesn’t make for a great show, This could be however because his sadness is often too quickly “resolved” through his anger, or his substance abuse. His self image is also up for scrutiny, because although in the earlier seasons he has a very mixed idea of who he is, he begins to settle down later in the series. Finally, his self-harming behaviors. Although he does self-sabotage through things like drinking and substance abuse, things such as cutting or any others are not as apparent. This is also the case when it comes to suicide, only appearing a handful of times throughout the show. Again, this could be attributed to the fact it’s supposed to be a comedic show, and a whole six seasons about a constantly suicidal person doesn’t sound that entertaining. Overall, given that it’s put into Netflix’s comedy section, “Bojack Horseman” does a great job depicting mental disorders, not just in how they affect a person, but also the people around them.

References

Bob-Waksberg, Raphael. (Executive Producer). (2014-2020). BoJack Horseman [TV series]. Torante Television; Netflix.

Borderline personality disorder. (2011). National Institute of Mental Health, U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, National Institutes of Health.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Good news, everyone! Alex Horne has chosen to bring back his lip synch skills! You know, the ones in that video of his stand-up that's somehow from 2014, even though it feels like the sort of thing that should be one of those old videos you find of a now-famous comedian performing in like 2007:

Anyway, that Zaltzman interview was fun. I enjoyed that he was wearing full cricket gear, not just messing around with a white shirt. Knee pads. Big mittens. Helmet with face mask. And, yes, carrying the bat. I love the idea of Andy Zaltzman finally getting a big break on TV, at almost 50, and saying he'll only do it if he can drag in an entire cricket uniform. No, no, not just a shirt. All of the gear. And the bat.

This is actually not the first time this week that I've heard these two interact. I decided to prepare for Taskmaster s18 by listening to the previous recordings of Andy Zaltzman with Alex Horne. Andy's done three episodes of Alex's 2013-2014 podcast Alex Horne Breaks The News, and he did one episode of The Horne Section's podcast.

Listening to those four episodes really drove home how many specific similarities there are in Alex and Andy's style of humour. They're not particularly similar overall, but they have a few fairly rare quirks in common, and are usually the only person in a room with those quirks, so it is fun to hear them put those to each other. I cannot wait to see them get to Taskmaster, and Alex tries to measure something in mice and Andy will not be put off in the slightest, will just start explaining why using cats is actually a more standardized system. Andy and Alex are both so big on tracking pointless stats.

All three of Andy's Breaks the News episodes were a lot of fun. Those were actually the 3-5 episodes I've heard of that podcast, as I listened to the two Ray Peacock ones earlier this year and liked those too, I might end up getting into all of that podcast. It's very funny. An excellent vehicle for showing off Alex Horne's quirky humour, and I always like being reminded how much of that humour was there long before Taskmaster.

I like how much of the Taskmaster origins you can trace in general, through Alex Horne's whole career. No More Women/Jockeys and We Need Answers are both Alex showing off his love of random pointless games. Tim Key has talked in interviews about how they used to play the stupidest games they could think of at university. And Breaks the News is Alex Horne making people play a variety of pointless games, which he introduces and scores in absurd ways with full commitment to the bit. I suppose making comedians play short silly games can't be called Alex Horne's invention, as it's the cornerstone of the entire panel show industry, but Alex has a signature way of doing it that's been consistent for twenty years. The way he'll ask the senseless questions with total sincerity. Throwing in unrelated things as though they go together.

Is it possible that Taskmaster rose above all other panel shows in national and international popularity because it's a rare panel show that was made in the image of the showrunner's genuine sense of humour, rather than just a concept based on what's previously worked with famous names attached? I mean obviously it was also a bit of the latter (I don't love the things about Frank Skinner like "used to be a lecturer who married his teenage student", but some things about him are better, such as "is the reason Taskmaster exists because no one else would do the show without a big enough name attached in season 1"), but I feel like it has more of the former than most shows.

Anyway, I'd say that of all the Horne/Zaltzman podcast interactions, the one that makes clearest their odd similarities is the Alex Horne Breaks the News with Andy Zaltzman and Liam Williams:

The above is an absolutely excellent podcast episode, I highly recommend it to anyone who likes any of the three people involved. Andy and Alex go back and forth brilliantly, getting a bit further than usual with their style of "present an absurd scenario but take it seriously", as they keep taking each other's scenarios seriously, which is where I get the idea that Andy will respond to Alex's Taskmaster mice measuring by converting it into cats. Andy Zaltzman is often so awkward on other people's podcasts, there's usually a beat missing where everyone else will be in their rhythm, and then Andy will just throw his weird lie-based joke at what they're doing, and it'll hit a wall, and the others will either find it funny or not, but it's hard for it to go anywhere. But in this episode, Alex is kind of also doing that, they get into their own weird rhythm, and every once in a while Liam Williams will throw one of his deep-voiced baffled cynical statements into the mix, and I think it's a perfect blend. I realize it might not say great things about the diversity of my comedy taste that I believe three straight white Oxbridge-educated men form the perfect podcast episode, but this is pretty much what I want out of comedy.

This exchange, however, is from the episode he did with Brett Goldstein (and Ian Smith as a very funny scorekeeper, it was a sideline role but he stole the show several times from there), and is probably the easiest summary of the sort of thing I'm talking about, when I say Andy Zaltzman's sense of humour is largely based on just... lies:

I love the Zaltzman lies, but it's so hard to find other comedians with whom they can fit into a panel show setting. Alex Horne might just be that guy, I look forward to hearing them go back and forth on Taskmaster.

And one more audio clip for this post:

That's from the end of last week's Bugle episode, with Andy bringing his usual level of smooth self-promotional skills to the plugging portion of the recording. The first of what should be many times that he has to plug his Taskmaster appearance, and I hope every single one is exactly that awkward. I'm also pleased to hear Nish Kumar and Tom Ballard will be the next guests, partly because they're an excellent combination and I don't think they've been on together in about a year, but mainly because those are two people who will not let Andy get away with not acknowledging that he's on Taskmaster now. This will be fun.

[seo-julie]

Natsu Kanna - The Child Mechanical God Ep 2

Characters: Kanna, Makoto, Keito, Kanata Release: 25/7/2024 Proofreading: leen Translation: seo-julie

Season: Spring Location: Seisoukan courtyard

✧

Kanna: Sigh… Senpai, you don't know anything, do you?

This is the latest sleeping device I developed, and I call it “Sleep Peacefully Anywhere-kun”.

Keito: What's with that name? It sounds something like that of an unsuccessful comedian's name.

Makoto: (Hasumi-senpai, your straight man¹ act is prompt and precise… I need to learn a thing or two from you.)

Kanna: The name doesn't matter. It's not like I'm the one naming it. 

Based on the latest ergonomics research, this bed is perfectly constructed so that anyone can get a good night's sleep instantly.

In addition, there is also a function that increases the effectiveness of recovering from fatigue by several dozen times. If you doubt it, would you like to give it a try?

It seems like both of you couldn't sleep, just like me. If you use “Sleepy-kun (abbreviation)”, then you'd be in a dream in no time. 

Makoto: Ah, I might be a little interested.

Hehe. I buy all those latest gadgets even when I'll probably use them only once and then throw them into the closet.

Kanna: As long as there are such curious customers, my job will not disappear.

Makoto: Job? If you're at Seisoukan, doesn't that mean you're an idol as well?

Kanna: For the time being, yes. But my main job is something else.

Kanna: Calling myself an inventor might sound shady, but that’s what I do. 

Makoto: Ah, I think I've heard of it somewhere. I see, you're that "Deus Ex Machina²", aren't you?

Keito: What is with that name? It sounds like a name made up by someone with chuunibyou. 

Makoto: (As expected! Your straight man act is so good, please let me call you master!)

Keito: Why are you looking at me with such sparkling eyes…?

Kanna: I didn't come up with that nickname for myself. "Deus Ex Machina" is not a very promising name. 

Keito: A mechanical god…? Are you actually an ingeniously crafted robot that looks like a human?

Makoto: Ahaha, he does give off that same vibe.

Kanna: …People often said that.

Anyways. Everyone, why don't you try using this bed for a while?

As an apology for causing you both concern, I'll give you two a good night's sleep.

Makoto: Ah, as I said earlier, I'm interested~♪ Do I just lie down here? And sleep peacefully until morning?

Keito: H-hey, wait, Yuuki, don't be so careless now–

Kanna: Alright.

Keito: Woah!?

(W-what? I was suddenly pushed from behind…!?)

Makoto: W-whaa, please don't crash on me, Hasumi-senpai! This bed was probably made to fit only one person!?

Kanna: –Good night, seniors.

Please sleep in peace. This way, you'll forget all the troubles of reality.

Location: Makoto's Dorm

Makoto: ……

(Ah, huh? I, was I sleeping? Was it all just a dream?)

(That was such a strange dream… But, yeah, it had to be a dream. It was so unrealistic.)

(I had a weird conversation with a weird kid under the moonlight. It's a dream, and no matter who you talk to, they'll all say, 'So what?' Such a trivial story.)

Ahaha. I must be having all these unrealistic dreams because I play these games all the time. Stop having weird delusions, I need to face reality–

Keito: Yuuki! Are you there?

Makoto: W-whoa, what a surprise!? H-Hasumi-senpai? Is there anything I can help you with?

Keito: Do you remember what happened last night?

Makoto: Yes?

Keito: I wonder if that was a dream after all… A dream is a dream, my memory is getting hazy and I can't remember much anymore.

Didn't we see a strange machine and child last night? 

Makoto: Um… No but, it was a dream, right? But, huh, did Hasumi-senpai have the same dream as well?

Location: Seisoukan courtyard

Kanna: …

(Sigh~... Looks like by interfering with their cranial nerves, I was able to erase their memories, but it seems like there was something I forgot to subtly erase.)

(Not yet, it's not yet perfect.)

(If the results are lower than what the developer expected, if the product does not perform the desired functions, then it is an utter failure…)

(...Just like me.)

(Commercialization would be difficult. There's still room for improvement.)

Kanata: Hm~m h~m?

Kanna: Is there something troubling you?

Kanata: ? Yes, well, you know, I like taking “cold baths³”. But this, “season” is a bit too cold and I'm afraid I might catch a “cold”–

Kanna: I see. Well then, why don't you try this invention.

This is called, “Kettle that Makes Everything Hot-kun”.

(Humans find things that are alike in only appearance to be ominous.)

(This uncanny feeling… Even so, I too want to overcome it.)

(I'm…)

(Not… a machine.)

Kanata: ? What's wrong~?

Kanna: No… Sorry, it malfunctions sometimes.

Kanna: (As of this moment, not yet.)

(But, I'm sure someday...)

¹ The original word used for this was “tsukkomi”. It's from what I think is a troupe(?) known as boke and tsukkomi. Boke and tsukkomi are loosely equivalent to the roles of "funny man" or "comic" (boke) and "straight man" (tsukkomi) in the comedy duos of western culture. Which is why I have opted to use straight man for the tl. ² Deus ex machina is a Latin calque from Greek ἀπὸ μηχανῆς θεός (apò mēkhanês theós) “god from the machine”. The term was coined from the conventions of ancient Greek theater, where actors who were playing gods were brought on stage using a machine. ³ The original word used was “mizuabi” which literally translates to “bathing in cold water”.

Directory

[chaifootsteps]

[major spoilers for Netflix's Baby Reindeer]

so it's a show about a comedian Donny Dunn based autobiographically on the creator's experiences having been stalked and sexually harassed by a woman and in his past having been groomed and raped by a man

the show treats it with care and shows all the side effects of SA and rape - he questions the effect of his past assault on his sexuality, he ends up accepting the stalker's facebook invite and not reporting her for a while because despite how scared he is of her he feels validated by the attention, etc etc

my point here is if a show wants to talk about abuse, or about rape, it should actually do that. and if it wants to represent female on male abuse it should do that, too

but as it is, abuse or SA is just something that gets mentioned once in Helluva and then never again.

like, how have his experiences with Crimson shaped Moxxie? does he ever think about the murder of his mom? Crimson could come back in a future ep (probably) but is Moxxie at all concerned about that? idk, because the show doesn't bother giving characters a consistent emotional state except when it remembers to

same with Stolas and Stella. Fans leapt to claim Stella raped Stolas based on flimsy evidence, yet only cared if Stolas was slightly tipsy (and tied up) the first time he slept with Blitzo the moment they could use that information against Blitzo. and yet they're all for stol!tz despite how bad a person Blitzo supposedly is? We also see Blitzo and Stolas both have lousy dads but the effect of this on them is largely unknown. worse still, the show could have had a good lens on cycles of abuse by showing how Stolas was neglected and mistreated, but he still turned that treatment on someone with less power and made self-serving excuses for it, but nope. we can't have that

the closest the show has gotten to a realistic depiction of the effects of abuse is Blitzo himself. he's seemingly hypersexual in present day because of how his father made him feel like nothing by literally selling him off for an afternoon to a rich family and also because his trauma around the accident has left him with a deep seated fear of letting people in, in case he lets them down and them loses them. he behaves in contradictory ways that are frequently unheathly. he reads like someone who has compartmentalized the living daylights out of his poor treatment by Stolas because he maybe thinks he doesn't deserve better, and previously when he had someone better he self-sabotaged by stealing their car and maxxing out their credit cards so they would dump him

and how does the show treat him? victim blaming him for being sexually coerced by Stolas & being unable to give informed consent to Stolas' deal, then levelling every 'not a perfect victim!' excuse and 'not if he enjoyed it!' rationalizaion against him. it's honestly been morbid to watch the show do backbends to excuse Stolas and the fandom not only swallow it but say worse things about Blitzo on the regular

Morbid is an excellent word for it. I know that there's really no comparison, that Baby Reindeer is based on a true story (and basically one long therapy session for Gadd) and HB isn't, but if Baby Reindeer was about how how all of Donny's problems could be solved by marrying the man who abused him, you'd have HB.

[canonicallyobserving911]

Did it occur to you LFJ might just be tired, or not part of the specific joke or conversation that was happening? It seems kinda weird to try to analyze it and make wild speculation about people’s motives or friendships based on a couple short videos.

@dubiousculturalartifact Is that you, LFJr.? 😅

If it's you, then you can explain how you felt that day and tell everyone how joining in the fun would have been too devastating for you. Otherwise, if you're not and you're one of his rando stans then it's really funny how you're upset over something as simple as HIS demeanor in three seperate BTS videos because the evidence is right there. No one can deny he wasn't happy but earlier in the season he was happy and joking around with Kenny. So let's get this straight... you're upset because he sat there like a statue and he wouldn't interact with Kenny, Oliver and Ryan during filming of the final episodes. Did I get it right? 🤣😂

[My original post.]

It seems like you're hurting for him or something since you're acting like someone stating the obvious about his actions in three different BTS videos was too much for you to handle. GTFOH with that BS please because he's the one who sat there like he couldn't be bothered to interact with the main characters when he's the one playing a PLOT DEVICE CHARACTER.

Have you considered he was acting unusually sad since he couldn't charge any of his stans (it wouldn't be a surprise if you're one of the ones who freely gave him your money) $145 to appear on "Cameo" so he can LIE and make up another ridiculous headcanon about how T*mmy was all deep in thought and preparing for the scene where he literally had one line that was negative and uncaring towards Buck? It costs nothing for anyone to smile and participate with people they claim to enjoy working with especially when he's out here begging his stans to help him become a main character. It's not a good look for him when those who were around him were having a good time and he just sat there staring into oblivion.

Furthermore, there wasn't any wild speculation included in my post so you should go back and reread it for reading comprehension purposes since it seems like that's a skill set you're lacking. So, you should brush up on it and learn how to comprehend a post before you come into my inbox or anyone else's stating he may have had a bad day. You weren't there and neither was I, therefore no one but him and those who were present that day know what happened so get off your LFJr. defense squad spiral and reread what I posted.

I stated it was interesting how he wasn't joking around like he had been earlier in the season and how he looked like he would rather be somewhere else. NOT ONCE DID I SAY ANYTHING NEGATIVE! That was you projecting onto him because the evidence proved he wasn't acting the same way when he thought his role could be extended into something more than what it was originally intended.

It's so funny how all of you LFJr. defenders get yourselves tied all up in knots when a simple aspect of the way someone acted is pointed out. I'll be so glad when he's gone off the show and hopefully, you and all his other stans can move on.

FYI, the quote below is what I included in my original post word for word so before you go into someone else's inbox trying to defend him, maybe you should try reading what the OP included again because the evidence speaks for itself and you're the one who looks and sounds ridiculous.

"It's unclear why he's changed from joking to not joking but Kenny likes to have fun, he's the comedian of the group so it's just interesting to see LFJ be anti-social all of a sudden."

Oh and for clarification purposes, the word "unclear" is defined as "uncertain about something" which is NOT NEGATIVE.

Have a nice day LFJr.! Oops I mean LFJr. stan.

[bluewithpurplepolkadots]

Honestly I might (might) write a longer post about it at some stage but like… my current feelings on finishing MAWs second season is that the new characters (as in those introduced in this show and didn’t exist prior to it) were very solid.

Certain older characters (as in: those that existed prior to this show). Uhhhh.

Um.

In any case I feel a reason for this is because those in charge of season two did of course watch season one: or at least had it fresh in their minds.

Because of this, they were aware of some things which didn’t work in that first season in terms of its newer characters and that the ending wasn’t satisfactory (particularly for Tylor and Val) and decided to make something better out of it: all while still making it feel like something that could organically grow out of the events of season one.

Things like monsters thinking comedy wasn’t respectable feels realistic. Tylor failing hard at it is also inevitable. Val being well suited to it also. (Especially as being more like a cool babysitter rather than doing stand up). I thought the fact they made them into a comedy duo was a very clever idea I didn’t see coming: but also didn’t feel like it came out of nowhere. It’s really a way for Tylor to be realistically involved with comedy again which doesn’t feel as forced and off as season ones doughnut joke did.

This is good solid writing to me. With their own new characters that they themselves made, while they may have stumbled in season one: I feel the show really gets them now.

But… I honestly wonder if the writers watched either MU or MI upon first starting to write for this show. At least recently. Since they got the job in question I mean.

They’ve clearly seen it at some point in their life. They also perhaps fast forwarded and zeroed in on a specific scenes like Sulley in the laugh floor with Boos picture in season one. They’ve researched the sets that were available and expanded. That sort of thing.

But otherwise it feels like they based the older characters off vibes and half forgotten memories they had of what they thought they were like. Like it’s possibly been more then a decade anyway since they’ve given it a look. Even in season one something feels off with Sulley to me. I’m not sure how to describe it.

And: Randall is indeed violent in MI. There he’s the kind of guy to turn invisible, throw a scream canister at you, state he’s always wanted to do that, darkly chuckle and then choke you out while your friend blathers on at you without realising what’s happening. Randall in MI can be dark man. But: The MAW version… it isn’t really Randall at all. He’s way too… cackling and bouncing off the walls for some reason. He doesn’t know these mifters. With Sulley, Randall has been bitter as hell for a long time and he wasn’t like this. The only take away from the original movie would be a call back to Sulley unplugging the machine to save Mike: like Randall did to them to stop them from taking back the laugh power.

The only possible explanation I’ll take is that his head got scrambled by the shovel. Which would be… fairly dark and possibly interesting as an implication. For Sulley and Mike to be responsible for that happening. But rather like the fact that in season one they just have CEOs legally able to banish monsters if they have the right excuse, I kind of doubt we’ll ever get a look into it or we’re supposed to think on things like that in any real depth.

Also, as a major Sulley fan. I have to say the whole evidence in Tylors locker things and jumping to belief of guilt kind of pissed me off. Granted while better than only-fifteen-minutes-lunch Johnny, he ain’t the best boss at points. (He had his comedians work a double shift? Mike almost dying from a drug overdose on energy drinks Etc) But once again… I’m not sure we’re supposed to take it that way or as a potential thing he has to work on which is kind of… disappointing?

Like he could have an arc. Learn to be a better boss? Maybe Roz shouldn’t have done the random idea of throwing it on them immediately. (Where is the board of directors Waternoose complained about anyway? Yeah see: this is why I think it’s been a while since any major writer has seen the movie).

Johnny was actually pretty solid until the finale and until he chose to tell Tylor of his plans for…. Absolutely no reason. Like Tylor had been working there for a day. He was expressing doubt even. Before this, given vague spoilers I had, I thought Johnny was being handled well and they could make his secretly-evil!Johnny reveal be good even if Randall wasn’t exactly sounding too hot.

Like just have Tylor sneak around and be suspicious of something. Did you run out of time? I guess it’s possible. Season twos pacing before the final two is pretty solid. But if you only had ten episodes? Hrm. Idk. Hard to know what to cut honestly to make room if you don’t want a cliffhanger ending.

I guess this may be an odd example of competent original fiction writers failing to write convincing fanfic.

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue... - Lopez

John was making his way back through the makeshift base when he stumbled upon a congregation of Reds and Blues. They were clustered around a rusted, old supply crate—probably discussing their next catastrophic 'strategic' move. Amid the snickers and jabs, Lopez, the resident robot with the attitude of a seasoned stand-up comedian who had seen better days, was holding court.

"...y entonces este 'Spartan' se cree la gran cosa, viene aquí a darnos lecciones," Lopez rattled off, his metallic voice echoing slightly off the nearby walls. "Como si fuéramos un montón de novatos que apenas saben atarse los zapatos." ("...and then this 'Spartan' thinks he's the big deal, comes here to give us lessons," Lopez said. "As if we're a bunch of rookies who can barely tie their shoes.")

The laughter that followed was a mix of genuine amusement and the kind that comes when one isn't sure if they're laughing out of respect or the fact that they have no clue what he just said.

Unbeknownst to them, John had slowed his pace just behind a stack of cargo boxes, his ears catching every syllable of Spanish—a language he mastered between demolitions and tactics training. John’s eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in the kind of playful decision-making that usually preludes a Spartan’s idea of fun.

Stepping from behind the crates, John’s towering frame cast a long shadow that fell over the group, snuffing out their laughter like a sudden eclipse. They turned, one by one, their expressions morphing from mirth to varying degrees of dismay.

John fixed his gaze on Lopez, who, if he could sweat, would have been a fountain by now. In flawless Spanish, tinted with a hint of amusement, John said, "Lopez, siempre es interesante escuchar lo que otros piensan, especialmente cuando creen que uno no entiende." ("Lopez, it's always interesting to hear what others think, especially when they believe you don't understand.")

The soldiers stood frozen, a collective 'oh no' painted across their faces. Lopez, caught in the act, did the equivalent of a robotic double-take. His gears whirred and his voice box sputtered, a mechanical mimicry of a gulp.

"¡Oh, Spartan! No sabía que hablabas... Yo, esto... ¡Estaba bromeando! Es solo humor robótico, ¿sabes? ¡Muy avanzado!" ("Oh, Spartan! I didn't know you spoke... I, uh... I was joking! It's just robotic humor, you know? Very advanced!")

John crossed his arms, his stance relaxed but his voice carrying the unmistakable undertone of a tease. "¿Humor robótico, eh? Asegúrate de que tus chistes no se sobrecalienten y fundan algo, Lopez." ("Robotic humor, huh? Make sure your jokes don't overheat and melt something, Lopez.")

Lopez, who could no more sweat than fly, somehow managed an impression of both as his servos jittered erratically. "¡No, no, por favor! ¡Soy demasiado joven para ser reciclado! ¡Fue sin querer, te lo juro por mi madre circuitera!" ("No, no, please! I'm too young to be recycled! It was an accident, I swear on my circuit mother!")

The group erupted in laughter, the tension breaking like a snapped wire. John chuckled, shaking his head as he waved off the still-rambling Lopez."

Está bien, Lopez. Solo recuerda que a veces los oídos de un Spartan están en todas partes." ("It's fine, Lopez. Just remember, sometimes a Spartan’s ears are everywhere.")

As John walked away, the laughter resumed, this time filled with a new story about the day Lopez nearly got dismantled by his own tongue—or as close to one as he had. The robot muttered to himself, "Necesito aprender a mantener mi boca cerrada..." ("I need to learn to keep my mouth shut...")