#i just realized this list was posted almost to the day of the 1 year anniversary of publishing this fic

[thefrogman]

Late Night Hosts: A Retrospective.

After the success of this post...

I noticed people seemed interested in the history and personalities of late night comedians. Especially all the youngins who weren't around yet. These hosts were a big part of my comedy training. So I thought I'd share with you what I remember of my comedy analysis and some personal context showing what made them tick.

I will be covering Johnny Carson, Jay Leno, David Letterman, and Conan O'Brien.

And if this post is successful, I will do Craig Ferguson, Jimmy Kimmel and all of the newest hosts.

Almost all of this is from memory, so a few details could be inaccurate. But I used to set up 2 VCRs so I could record Jay, Dave, and Conan each night. I watched Conan from show #1. That was 1993 (I was 12 then) and I did this for several years.

I would also get a bit of Carson Daly on the tape and just be flabbergasted someone gave him a television show.

Even Kermit was like, "How is this guy more of a fucking muppet than I am?"

I would watch my tapes and study them and take notes. I would do little comedy exercises. I tried to write a Letterman Top 10 List (I called it a "top 7½ list" because I feared the copyright police). I wrote monologue jokes about celebrities. And I tried creating silly characters like on Conan.

I was a big comedy nerd as a teenager, what can I say?

I even created an alter ego called "Bob the Frog" who was basically a ripoff of Triumph the Insult Comic Dog and Don Rickles. "Bob" wrote a comedy newsletter (I still have it somewhere) that I passed around to my classmates in junior high. This frog alter ego was my first attempt at comedy writing. (If you've ever wondered why I am "The Frogman", now you know.)

The first few were really bad. Then I got better and my friends started asking if I had written anything new. It was my first taste of making people laugh and I was hooked. I knew comedy would be a part of my life from then on.

I learned that I hated insult comedy. I felt too guilty. The only person I felt comfortable saying bad things about was myself. So "Bob" would say I was a lame dorktopus.

Eventually, I did stand-up until I was too sick to perform (1999-2003). I was just getting good so that was a very difficult period of my life. It felt like my dream was snatched away by my poor health.

On a whim, my best friend Tru McGowan convinced me to start a comedy Tumblr in 2009. At first I was really bad. I was used to stand-up where you had a new crowd each time and you could polish jokes until they were perfect. The hardest thing about internet comedy (much like late night comedy) is that everything is your *first* draft.

I'm not sure if people realize how difficult first draft comedy truly is. You can get decent at predicting what an audience will laugh at. But it is *never* a sure thing. Things you work on for days and are positive people will love... they will bomb horrifically. Things you write in 20 seconds and post on a lark... they go viral to a few million people.

But the greatest tragedy of all is when you post something with potential and it bombs. You know if you could workshop it with a proper crowd over a week or a month, you could make something amazing.

But it is already out there.

Your entire following saw it.

It is what it is.

That is some genuine 2009 Froggie comedy right there.

I just put text on a picture. I mean, this dude definitely wanted to bang that rancor and his dream was crushed just like its head. There is a joke there. And lolcat style text-on-a-picture was the comedy fad.

But "Gay for Rancors" got 15 pity notes and that was the end of my exploration of rancor fetish jokes.

Soon I started putting a little more effort into my originals. Somehow Photoshopping this bacon on a string got me 50 notes.

And I was never one to shy away from capitalizing on a current meme, so this accrued 143 notes (viral for Tumblr in 2009).

I got to know my audience. I started understanding what worked and what didn't. I did a lot of experimenting and eventually I started understanding this new comedy medium. If you are weird and put forth enough effort, people will reward you.

As an internet "first draft" comedian, I feel a spiritual connection to late night comedians. They have one day to write 15-20 minutes of material and once they send it out into the world... that's it. No second chance.

I think studying Conan and Dave helped prepare me for my blog. I still prefer polishing material over time, but I'm so glad I could rise to the occasion when circumstances demanded I "first draft" my entire comedy career.

So...

Let's get started.

Heeeeeeeeeeere's Johnny!

Johnny Carson

I missed out on peak Johnny. But I have watched a bunch of those compilation videos with highlights from the show. I mean, I used to watch the 3am infomercial for those compilation videos. So I feel like I am still qualified to analyze him as a long-time student of comedy.

I started becoming aware of comedy right as Johnny was retiring. I literally studied it like a subject at school while not studying actual subjects at school. And the late night shows were some of the best learning tools available (aside from getting stand-up specials from Blockbuster). You got to see comedy every night and a variety of comedians with different styles.

Johnny was the best at the traditional late-night monologue. It's not that the jokes were funnier. Honestly, it is impossible to write 5 minutes of stand-up in a day that can give you anything more than a chuckle. But the audience knows that and it causes something I call "forgiveness comedy." People will adjust what they think is funny depending on the circumstances. If they know you had a day to write something, the audience will consider that and be primed to laugh more at less funny material. Especially if they like the comic.

The best example is improv. An audience will forgive the joke quality just because they are amazed it is coming straight off the dome (that isn't always true, improv is more magic trick than spontaneity, but that is another post). But if you tried to perform that same improv as a polished stand-up act, it would likely bomb. The brain adjusts to context.

Johnny took advantage of this and where he really shined was in between the written jokes. His bombs were opportunities. He would react with some self-deprecating remark and get a bigger laugh for making fun of his shitty joke. Basically, when Johnny was in trouble he was at his best. His reactions were what made him so loved.

His most famous reaction-style comedy was probably the tomahawk demonstration. I think this was one of the longest sustained audience laughs in history—which, sadly, the video cuts off. I think it was 4 minutes total.

Johnny was also a very good interviewer in the sense that he knew when to give people space. He didn't try to compete with all the funny people he invited on. He was a comedy support system and only stepped in when things went off the rails.

There were also his masterful softballs. (Sorry, I should explain I came up with my own comedy terms. They may or may not be actual comedy parlance.)

A softball is an easy setup for a joke (large balls are easier to hit). A conversational premise without a punchline. If you are riffing with another comedian and you know their strengths, you can set them up for a joke and let them take the punchline. This is a thankless comedy skill because you are giving away the glory to someone else. But being good at softballs often takes more creativity and skill than coming up with the punchline. Johnny knew he was speaking with some of the funniest people on the planet. And their success was his success. So he was always happy to set people up for hilarity.

Johnny was also a good sport. His friends would come on and make fun of him and he often laughed the loudest of anyone. Or pretended to be hurt for extra laughs. Rich Little and Tom Smothers would do impressions of Johnny in front of Johnny. I think this helped popularize the Friar's Club roasts around that time, of which Johnny was a roastee.

Johnny got along with everyone. I think the most endearing thing about his Tonight Show was that he was just trying to make sure everyone had a good time. It was fun. It was chill. It was comfort after a long day, like a television version of a warm hug. Many people would joke that is how they fell asleep each night.

There was one aspect of his show I have mixed feelings about. Johnny started the career of almost every comedian performing in the 80s. He would invite the new comics on the scene to do their "tight 5" toward the end of the show. It was a poorly kept secret that if he invited them to "the couch" for an interview, they were in. He was christening them a comedy star. Robin Williams, Ellen DeGeneres, Louie Anderson, Roseanne Barr, Jay Leno, David Letterman, Steven Wright, David Brenner, Drew Carey, Garry Shandling, Eddie Murphy.

And we can't forget Yakov Smirnoff.

Johnny was basically the all-powerful comedy judge. It was seen as a huge honor to be invited to the couch. But if you had a bad night or a bad audience or just weren't ready, that could end or set back your career in a huge way.

You either got a sitcom or a job at McDonald's.

Jay Leno

Jay was known as a very good road comedian. He was a very hard worker who would perform *anywhere* just to get experience. He performed at strip clubs and crappy hotel bars and those weird corporate events where you have to come up with jokes for vacuum salesman or mortgage analysts. You have to use hyperspecific industry terms and include employees in the audience. John Mulaney recently made the news for one of these gigs.

Actually, let me give corporate comedy writing a try...

"Vacuum salesmen are the only ones who can start their pitch with how much their product sucks.

Suction, am I right, fellas? Good suction sells itself. Bob's wife knows what I'm talking about. She can hit 20 kPa, easy. Heyoooo!

She's still no Miele C3 canister vacuum with included HEPA filtration. That thing has more new attachments than the CEO's hair.

Your plugs aren't fooling anyone, Steve!"

Though Jay started out working mostly clean, so I'm not sure he would have rated the suction of Bob's wife in kilopascals. Working clean meant he could do his act just about anywhere. But don't confuse him with a "clean" comedian.

Froggie Comedy Tangent

A comedian who happens to work clean can be funny. But a "clean comedian" will make you wonder how you are suddenly in Branson sitting next to a youth pastor and his flock. If they specifically brand themselves as "clean," you're just going to get thinly veiled (or blatant) conservative comedy. It will technically be apolitical, but all the subtext is MAGA.

I call it "I remember that" comedy. Because every laugh is derived from "Hey, that's that thing I know! I remember that!"

There is a thing called "Dry Bar Comedy" and their entire deal is inviting clean comedians to do shows. The non-drunk audiences (Get it? DRY bar) are laughing their heads off and it is so confusing.

I keep going "Wait, when did he tell a joke?"

They don't have to tell jokes!

They just have to talk about the "good old days" and people will be like, "I remember Cabbage Patch Kids!" and laugh at something resembling a punchline. Or sometimes there isn't a punchline—just a declarative statement that sort of goes up at the end.

I could have a lucrative comedy career just saying things like, "Do you remember G.I. Joe? I sure do miss when toys didn't have pronouns."

*uproarious laughter*

Almost every comedian that performs at the Dry Bar has a bit about spanking and ADHD.

"Kids these days have it easy. If you talk back to your daddy, you get a time out. Can you believe that? When I talked back to my dad, he made me pick out my own switch!"

*uproarious laughter*

"We didn't have ADD back then. We just had misbehaving children and a belt."

*uproarious laughter*

Comedians like Jerry Seinfeld and Jay Leno worked clean but it wasn't a moral thing. It just wasn't necessary for their material and was more marketable for gigs. They told real jokes with a premise and a punchline. They did the work and earned their laughs.

END OF TANGENT

It's weird to think Jay was once a respected and talented stand-up. Looking back, his material was... jokes for your dad. That's the best I can describe it. Not dad jokes, but jokes dads liked. Clever observations that would make dads go, "It do be like that!" Not really my thing, but he was good at it and he still draws decent crowds to this day. I mean, they all need walkers to get into the theater, but he packs the place with geriatrics wanting to laugh at Monica Lewinsky and OJ Simpson like the old days. Spoiler, Monica was a slut and Jay thinks OJ did it.

Jay did an adequate job on The Tonight Show. He was an okay interviewer and guests felt safe going on. They knew he wasn't going to talk about anything too embarrassing (with one major exception being Hugh Grant after he was caught with a sex worker).

Jay relied on bits that he knew worked and never really strayed once he had a working formula. He would read funny headlines. He would do his "Jaywalking" remotes where he found stupid people and used deceptive editing to make it seem like everyone he talked to was that stupid. Jay is really into things showing the decline of America in relation to the WWII generation.

Jay was the status quo comedian. He never really had "moments" that stood out and became legendary. Johnny had an entire DVD business just selling old clips from his Tonight Show. They were filled with moments that were so spontaneously and authentically hilarious that they stood the test of time. But trying to find a "greatest hits" compilation of Jay Leno's run will just leave you bored.

If you search YouTube for Jay's best moments, you just get a bunch of his "Headlines" segments. He's literally just reading clips from the newspaper.

As I mentioned in my other post, when he isn't in comedian mode, Jay Leno seems like a decent guy. He treated his staff very well and his work as a car historian is near academic level. When you hear him talk about old cars you feel like you are spending a weekend with your grandpa. So Jay's mean spirited monologues just seemed out of place and I think looking back, they ruined any chance he had at a legacy.

He just took cheap shots at celebrities and politicians and people in the news. And he did it relentlessly whether people deserved it or not.

Yes, every host at the time did this. But Dave felt like he was going through the motions and doing the monologue just because it was part of the format. His heart wasn't in it and he much preferred bantering with Paul Schaffer in the band than telling jokes about celebrities he doesn't actually care about. He was more interested in getting to the desk and doing his "real" comedy.

And Conan's jokes about celebrities were more silly than mean. He'd make fun of Tom Cruise or someone and then do the string dance.

But Jay would go dark. He had a smile on his face and it sounded like he was "just joking" but after hearing about Monica Lewinsky's story, Jay Leno's "just joking" was different. I remember Jay Leno making fun of that poor woman who had McDonald's coffee burn her vagina off. He probably got a few months of jokes out of that. He was such a nice guy outside of his comedy and looking back it seemed so out of place. But I think he did cheap shots because it was an easy laugh and he figured the famous weren't "real people."

If Jay was in head-to-toe denim, he was a solid dude.

If he was in a suit, he was an asshole.

Jay never stopped doing stand-up. You can catch a show this weekend if you want. Jay really likes to pepper in some classic 90s jokes about celebrities we have mostly forgotten. As I mentioned in my other post, I've heard him do Monica Lewinsky jokes as recent as 2019. They aren't part of his written material. They are usually ad-libs and callbacks. Like if Jay was fixing a car and someone said, "We need to suck the air out of these tires." There is a 90% chance Jay would respond, "Boy, where's Monica when you need her?"

He still does the "jokes your dad would like" material in his personal act. But they are much more like his Tonight Show monologues than his old stand-up. Easy jokes without much thought. Instead of his classic clever observations, he mostly complains about modernity, ad nauseam.

Actual joke...

"Have you seen these phones on your wrist? And you thought BUTT DIALING was bad!"

Get it? He's saying people are masturbating and accidentally calling people. Which completely misunderstands... no one talks on the phone, Jay. It's 2025 and we all have anxiety. Maybe you could do wank texting?

Okay, Jay. How about this as a joke, complete with a 90s reference...

"Have you seen these people wearing phones on their wrists? I guess they finally solved butt dialing!

But after they see a sexy picture of Cindy Crawford, Apple tells them they have 30,000 steps for the day!"

A famous fun fact is that he never spent any of his Tonight Show money. He lives off the interest and income doing stand-up. While he was host of The Tonight Show he still did stand-up just about every weekend. *I* think that *he* thinks that gives him working class cred despite his enormous wealth and caravan of supercars.

I'm glad his money allowed him to become the world's greatest car historian. I'm happy there is someone like him doing proper car conservation. His restoration of the Chrysler turbine car was fantastic. That is a neat piece of engineering and car history.

Jay never had a sex scandal and seems to love his wife. He's taking care of her as she battles dementia. I do feel sorry he is going through that.

Those are the nice things I can say about him.

But I think Monica Lewinsky and Conan O'Brien should be allowed one giant kick in the nuts.

David Letterman

Conan O'Brien wasn't the first person Jay Leno screwed over with The Tonight Show. David Letterman was actually Johnny Carson's favorite guest host. But he was quirky and experimental. The network liked Jay Leno's safer style.

It was a big controversy at the time and they even made a weird movie about it called The Late Shift. Pretty much every person portrayed claims it is horribly inaccurate. The actors they cast looked like when you draw from memory.

The big joke at the time was about the ridiculous chin prosthetic. Did you know Jay has a sizeable chin? Let's get Stan Winston away from Terminator 2 to make this bigass chin.

Dave started out as a TV weatherman. But once he got popular doing stand-up, they gave him a morning show. They tried to make him Regis Philbin. But he sucked at being Regis. Only Regis could be that excitable in the morning. Dave wasn't really a "morning" comedy guy so that was quickly cancelled.

In 1982, he got the Late Night show at 12:30am after Carson on NBC. No one paid much attention to him and he realized that. I think that excited him and he was just like...

Dave and his team created some of the most experimental comedy on broadcast TV up until that point. He was basically unsupervised in a comedy laboratory for over a decade.

He wore an Alka Seltzer suit and dunked himself in water.

He wore a Velcro suit and hurled himself against a wall.

Looking back I'm realizing he did a lot of suit based humor.

He had a very long running gag with character actor Calvert DeForest who Dave called Larry "Bud" Melman. He was a bit like a sidekick.

Calvert was this cute old man and would literally do *anything* Dave and the writers asked. He had no fear. He had no shame. He would often go to random places and interview people. But he was really bad at following the scripted material and would get confused and forget the jokes. He didn't understand how microphones worked. Any segment with him would go off the rails because he never quite understood the premise. Dave loved this tiny, elderly ball of chaos. The trainwreck was the joke.

Dave helped Super Dave Osbourne get his incompetent daredevil schtick out there. He let Andy Kaufman get in a fight with someone and no one could tell if it was a bit. (10:30)

Johnny and Jay's Tonight Show was where all the normie comedians went to get their big break. Dave was where the weirdos flocked to. And some of them were terrible, but they were *always* fascinating. I don't think Frank Zappa would have his cult following without Dave.

Dave was the first to regularly do "remote" humor where he'd just go out into the world and get into trouble with real people. The segments were great but Dave struggled with social anxiety. So that eventually evolved into Dave hiding in a van and making a Chinese-American deli owner named Rupert Jee repeat awkward things said in a hidden earpiece.

Dave's interview style was erratic. He was a very good host as long as he liked his guest. He loved having a real conversation with a fascinating person. He rivaled Craig Ferguson when those conditions were present. But if he didn't care for them, things would either get very awkward or very boring.

He didn't like pop celebrities who didn't have genuine talent. Paris Hilton or Kim Kardashian would have driven him nuts and he would purposely seem bored when interviewing someone like that. Dave had trouble "faking it." And instead of Jimmy Fallon's cringe fake laughter, Dave would just appear utterly uninterested.

But if he didn't like someone and chose awkward over boring... hoo boy... it was *really* awkward. And Dave relished in the discomfort.

Madonna (who Dave acknowledged as genuinely talented) was unhappy about his monologue jokes. Essentially he alluded to her being a bit of a slut. It was typical Late Night comedy fodder at the time. I'm not endorsing it, I'm just saying everyone did it and society didn't have a problem with it at the time. She released a book about sex called... "Sex." Then she released an artistic softcore black and white erotic music video that most people felt was... more strange than sexy. She just kinda talk-singed to the same loop and made out with a dude while clips of a dancer in full body spandex came out of nowhere.

The Wayne's World parody was much better and somehow less weird.

Needless to say, people made fun of this pivot to weird erotic art.

In any case, Dave had Madonna on and she turned the weird up to 11. I think she was trying to get back at Dave, but it had the opposite effect. He saw where things were going and he just kinda... "let her cook."

He was delighted to watch the train wreck unfold.

I mean, she was right. She was being slut shamed—by everyone, not just Dave. But she was so overtly odd that it was hard for people to hear that conversation within the chaos. And the only thing the mainstream news cared about was her potty mouth.

On the other hand, he liked Drew Barrymore a lot. Drew was a very good actress and she was charming and funny. She was just as weird as Madonna, but it was not oppressively weird.

I think Dave saw her more as a daughter figure. Or maybe he wanted to and was ashamed he wasn't successful? Or she made it difficult for him to be a father figure? Because she saw him as a... umm... daddy figure? He enjoyed her company but was uncomfortable with her affection, so her interview was awkward in a different way. This was especially famous because she ended up flashing him for his birthday.

Dave was complicated. He was a former alcoholic. He suffered from social anxiety while having the world's most social job. He was the most private public figure you could imagine. He managed to have a sex scandal that no one seems to know about or talk about. He was involved with his personal assistant who regularly appeared on the show. Then her roommate tried to blackmail Dave for two million dollars by threatening to expose the affair. Dave decided to just fess up and helped the authorities with a sting operation to catch the extortionist.

Dave was self-conscious and neurotic. I don't think he liked himself for a very long time. Which is probably why he tried to blow up his life and family. But he loved his son and once that love took hold he seemed to get his shit together. He seemed like a different person. I liked Dave's comedy much more when his life was a hot mess. But I liked Dave as a person much more when he started choosing good behaviors. Much like Jimmy Kimmel, family seemed to make him a better person.

Dave pushed the late night format to the limit and inspired an entire generation of comedians. He encouraged them to try risky things and experiment and became the comedy mentor that Jay Leno wishes he was.

Also he loved his mom and sent her to the Olympics and it was the cutest thing ever.

I'm a sucker for people who love their moms.

Conan O'Brien

Conan was my comedy idol. If you have followed my comedy over the years, you might have noticed a similar embrace of... intelligent silliness.

Stupid smart?

He was a magna cum laude Harvard graduate and a clown without the makeup. He was originally a comedy writer and head of the famous Harvard Lampoon humor magazine. He went on to write for The Simpsons and SNL.

He wrote that monorail episode.

Every Conan fan who wants to share a fun fact will make sure you know he wrote the monorail episode. Kumail Nanjiani did a great bit about this during Conan's Mark Twain Prize ceremony (it's on Netflix).

After Jay took over The Tonight Show and Dave gave NBC the finger and left for CBS, the "Late Night" slot needed a new host. And Lorne Michaels decided this pale redheaded giant from the SNL writing staff might be a good choice. No one had any clue who he was. No one had any confidence in his success—including Conan.

And the only person who saw a spark of genius was... David Letterman. (2:20)

Conan just started cranking out as much weird comedy as he could. The Masturbating Bear, Pimpbot 5000, FedEx Pope. There was a pooping robot at some point.

They had a sizeable robot budget.

He was the true spiritual successor to Dave's 80s Late Night show. By this time Dave mellowed out and didn't have the motivation and hunger to innovate like he used to. So Conan filled that role.

I think the reason Conan appealed to me specifically was because I saw a lot of myself in him. I was good at a lot of different styles of comedy—I had this almost shapeshifting ability to customize my humor to the person or audience I was entertaining. But eventually I decided I just wanted to make people feel good. I had to pick a style and stick with it. I wanted to make comedy comfort food that wasn't dumbed down or patronizing. It could be stupid and corny but I didn't want my audience to feel like they were stupid for liking it.

I don't know if I'm making any sense.

Conan was a genuinely nice guy and a constant people pleaser. He didn't have an edge and he didn't need one. He could do innovative comedy without punching down, without trying to push any offensive lines, without saying fucked up shit just to see if he could get away with it.

I'm not even knocking comedians who are skilled at dancing on the line. Some of my favorites of all time played with the line. Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor, George Carlin, Chris Rock.

Louis CK and Dave Chappelle before they...

*heavy sigh*

But so many comedians at the time thought that was an easy path to success. They didn't realize you had to be incredibly funny in order to stand next to or jump over the line. You had to compensate with amazing jokes to get away with it. But that takes effort and talent and finesse. They preferred laziness and brute forcing edgelord material.

And that is how we got a gaggle of Joe Rogans.

Hmm, we need a better collective noun.

That is how we got an ivermectin of Joe Rogans.

Conan was unapologetically silly. But it had this foundation of intelligence in the subtext. And every once in a while, he'd let an Abe Lincoln fun fact slip out (he could be a legit Lincoln historian if he wanted to). He made comedy for smart people who needed to turn down the volume of their brain for a bit.

Thinking is exhausting sometimes, but you can't shut it off completely.

Conan struggled for several years to find an audience. I think he was on the verge of cancellation every few weeks. I watched him every night from the first show. I started to see what Letterman saw. It was really neat to watch him learn and grow. He taught me that comedy was a journey. And eventually people found him and loved him and the rest is history.

My favorite running gag was definitely the Walker Texas Ranger lever. He'd randomly pull a big red lever and all it did was play a clip from the show. Everyone knows the Haley Joel Osment AIDS clip, but that was not my favorite. (2:40)

Walker was an egalitarian karate pugilist.

It was such a brilliant bit that relied on Conan's setup and reaction. If he just played the clip without the antics, it would not hit as hard. It would be Jay Leno reading the newspaper.

And... I don't have the energy to fully explain Jordan Schlansky.

I wouldn't even know where to start.

The short version is... Conan doesn't quite know how to handle intense nerdy metrosexual autism and hilarity ensues.

I encourage you to go down the Jordan Schlansky rabbit hole. I promise you will start watching and suddenly it will be tomorrow and you'll look at the clock and not be sure if it is AM or PM. If you are wondering, yes, he is really like that. But he pretends not to be self aware to make it funnier.

And then there is Sona. Conan's Armenian assistant who doesn't do a lot of assisting. They are basically siblings. You can tell she became part of his emotional support system. At times she matched Conan's comedic brilliance without any experience or training. She has perfect timing and can hilariously devastate his self esteem like an emotional assassin. (2:45)

There is so much more, but you get the idea.

Conan is a brilliant, silly comedian. And he is a solid dude. Just like Leno, his staff stuck with him. He was a great boss that inspired fierce loyalty. They even moved from New York to Los Angeles for him. And when he lost The Tonight Show he started his own company just so he could keep everyone employed and paid. That eventually evolved into his successful Team Coco podcast network.

Before his TBS show, Conan was contractually obligated to not appear on television for a year. He went on a grueling tour across the country performing a live comedy musical variety show. This was mostly to maintain his staff until they could find a new TV home.

They made a documentary "Conan O'Brien Can't Stop" about this live variety show. Some people thought this revealed Conan to be a bit of a dick. But he just lost his dream job, his entire staff had no source of income, and he was going from city to city working 18 hour days, including a 2 hour, high energy stage show—all while trying to stave off his deep depression. (Also Jack McBrayer was an old friend, and that was an ongoing bit between them.)

I don't think I've seen Conan that vulnerable and that human and you could see his staff doing their best to keep him from imploding. He felt responsible for the livelihoods of hundreds of people. They loved him and knew he was doing it for them.

(And because he needs constant attention and validation, but what comedian doesn't?)

To end things I think I'd like to try one of my comedy exercises.

I'm going to do a Top 7½ list in the style of David Letterman Bob the Frog. I can only promise junior high level comedy.

(Also, if you have never seen Dave do one of these, number 1 always has a drumroll and is purposely bad.)

Top 7½ signs you are in a "clean" comedy club.

7½. The headlining comedian was cancelled for...

7. You ask for the drink specials and the waitress says they might have Diet Sprite in the back.

6. The comic was once ratio'd on Twitter after being called "Temu Jeff Foxworthy."

5. "Back in my day we had Transformers not transgenders. The Autobots' pronouns were roll/out."

4. The comic takes off his belt, holds it up to the crowd and says, "This was what we called Ritalin in the 80s."

3. Your seat has a gun holster next to the cup holder.

2. The comic assures everyone that he "found God" so there is no reason to google his name and "me too."

*drumroll*

Annnnd, the number 1 sign you may be in a clean comedy club is...

1. Thursday is "Free Tennis Balls for Your Walker Night!"

[motorsportbarbie13]

Post It - Part 3 - LN4

when lando stumbles upon a random tiktok of a pretty american influencer, he can't stop himself from sliding into her DMs. what happens next is more than both of them ever bargained for.

Part 1 Part 2 Master List

warnings: nothing. this entire series is going to be pretty fluffy so :) I do say the word ‘papaya’ a concerning amount though 😂 (a note: as per usual, kudos to @lestapiastrisgirl for always answering my 2am ‘SO HEAR ME OUT’s and ‘BUT WHAT IF WE’s’ ❤️) pairing: lando norris x influencer!reader word count: 3.7k

story replies: lando lord have MERCY >>>yourusername 🤭 hannahstjohn god we're cute >>>yourusername <3 thank you for being there for me, my love. >>>hannahstjohn i'm so happy you're happy and you are gloooowing today, btw >>>yourusername i've got butterflies han! HE gives me butterflies and i have no idea what i'm doing but oh my god. >>>hannahstjohn thats how it felt with liam. it happened quick but it happed hard >>>yourusername i'm in so much trouble >>>hannahstjohn :)))

The morning of the sprit race starts off almost identically as the day before: you and Hannah arriving at the track together an hour or so behind Liam, the noise and crowds of the paddock overwhelming you once again the moment you scan your badge at the gate. 

“All I’m saying is, I’m quite impressed with him. I didn’t know Lando could be such a…gentleman.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief, tone teasing you. 

You shoot her a look, already regretting the fact that you had told how how last night had ended. “He was nervous, okay?” You say with a laugh, closing your eyes as you shake your head. 

The chemistry between you two had been undeniable during dinner and after, he had offered to walk you back to your room. Tension sparked in the elevator as you waited for Lando to make a move. His shoulder brushed yours, fingertips barely grazing your lower back when the doors slid open to allow you off at your floor. You had propped yourself up against the door, room key dangling from your fingers as you looked up at him. 

‘Thank you for dinner’ You had murmured, fluttering your lashes at him in hopes he got the message. 

‘Of course.’ Had been his response as he palmed the back of his neck, shifting his weight as his eyes darted between your lips and back up to meet your gaze. For a moment you had thought he was going to actually kiss you and as he leaned in, your breath hitched in the back of your throat, anticipation buzzing through your veins. 

At the last moment, Lando moved his lips and grazed your cheek instead. The touch had been light, almost tentative, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be so close to you. You barely bit back the whine in your throat when he pulled away to look at you again. ‘I’ll have McLaren passes waiting for you at the front desk tomorrow morning, okay?” 

You had nodded, brain trying to process what had just not happened. “Okay.” You replied weakly, the spot where his lips had touched your skin burning. 

“Text me when you get to the paddock and I’ll come meet you. Get some sleep, pretty girl.” 

And with that, he had turned around and walked back towards the elevator. 

You had spent the rest of the night analyzing everything with Hannah, trying to figure out what had been going through his head in that moment. 

“I had no idea Lando Norris knew how to be nervous.” Hannah chuckles as you walk through the paddock. You chuckle in response but you know better. The Lando you knew, that Lando was totally different from his public persona. He was quiet and anxious and seemed to get into his head too easily. But that was a side of Lando you were beginning to realize that he didn’t show just anyone and that made you feel all the more special. 

30 feet in front of you, the McLaren hospitality building looms, first in the paddock as a result of their Constructors Championship last year. You spot a certain curly haired Brit leaning against the railing, eyes scanning the crowd underneath a pair of dark sunglasses. Your stomach flips when he raises the glasses, light blue eyes catching your gaze as a half-smile hitches at the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh, he’s so down bad for you.” Hannah murmurs at your side and you elbow her with a laugh. “I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me for the enemy. Liam is devastated.” 

You chuckle, picking up your pace to get to Lando quicker. When you had met Hannah in the lobby this morning, you had asked if she was okay with you spending the day at McLaren. Much to your surprise, Hannah had encouraged you to go. She had seen how Lando had looked at you yesterday, had heard the way you talked about him when you called her for a post-dinner debrief. 

“I think Liam will survive. He’s probably thankful even that he doesn’t have to deal with the pair of us this morning.” 

“You’re probably right.” Hannah agrees just as you two reach McLaren’s hospitality. 

Lando’s been watching you approach for the last several minutes from his perch at the top of the ramp of the large orange building. He still can’t believe he chickened out last night, abandoning his plan for a juvenile kiss on the lips. The truth was, he had been so anxious that he was going to mess this up that he hadn’t wanted to push you to a place where you were uncomfortable. He hadn’t wanted to blow this second chance you had just given him so when it came down to it, a peck on the cheek had seemed the only right thing to do. 

He watches you and Hannah chat, the laugh that spills out of your lips when you get closer sending fiery pleasure skittering over his skin. 

“Morning, Lan.” You singsong, watching at he bounds down the ramp to join you and Hannah on the sidewalk. 

“What are you wearing?” He asks so abruptly for a moment you just blink at him. 

“Okay, so like, let’s agree to never start off a conversation with that ever again, yeah?” 

Beside you, Hannah huffs a laugh. 

Lando rolls his eyes, “You can’t wear navy in my garage!” He protests as if you’re the one missing the point. 

“Lando.” You deadpan, “I think this is the only bit of orange clothing I even own! You’re lucky I just happened to have this in my suitcase!” 

“It’s papaya!” He says with an exaggerated sigh. 

“This shirt has papaya in it!” You point to the thin stripes of orange…papaya…that the predominately navy tank top has all over it. 

Lando frowns before shaking his head. “It’s not enough.” He declares before reaching for your hand. “Come on, we need to fix this before I can take you anywhere.” 

You make an indignant sound as he drags you away from where Hannah stands laughing. “I guess I’ll text you later, H!” You shout over your shoulder. 

“Come to Red Bull for lunch!” She calls after you. 

“She’s eating lunch with me!” Lando yells before dragging you through the sliding glass doors of McLaren’s hospitality. 

You hear the echos of Hannah’s laughter as the doors whisper shut behind you. “Okay, that was rude! I didn’t even get to say goodbye to her!” 

Lando just shrugs, not letting go of your hand, as he pulls you towards a set of stairs just inside the double doors. “We have more important things to take care of and I have to be in the car in a bit.” 

“You are so dramatic.” You huff. 

When Lando doesn’t respond, you take a moment to glance around the first floor of the building he’s dragging you through. There are McLaren employees, all dressed in various amounts of papaya and black, bustling through the space. Some sit at sleek black high top tables, tapping away on computers or eating a snack before they’re pulled to another task. There’s a food counter tucked away in the other corner, laden down with breakfast and lunch foods. On the opposite side are several doors that lead to what you assume are team offices. 

You follow Lando up the stairs, trying to ignore the sideways glances you two are attracting as you quickly walk through the space. There’s several sets of doors on the landing and he pulls you towards an open one with his name tacked up on the wall just outside of it. 

Lando’s drivers room is small, with just enough room for a couch, massage table, and small desk. Light spills in through the three floor to ceiling windows that face out towards the back of the paddock, making the entire space bright and well lit. Lando shuts the door behind him before dropping your hand in favor of opening a closet that’s tucked away in the corner. He digs around for a few moments, mumbling something about how he just knows you’re going to look so good in papaya. 

Finding what he was apparently looking for, he crosses the room to where you stand, arms folded across your chest. “Take that off.” He tugs at your navy cardigan you had grabbed to keep the chill of the morning air off your skin. 

“Lando!” You scold, swatting his arm away when he continues to try to undress you. “At least kiss me before you try to get me naked.” 

The driver freezes, eyes flying up to yours before a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “Cheeky.” He murmurs before allowing you to remove the cardigan yourself. 

Tossing the cardigan across the room, Lando pulls a papaya colored hoodie over your head. The first thing you notice is how soft and warm the sweatshirt is but the second thing? The second thing you notice is how is smells. Lando’s cologne, the same woodsy scent that had kept you up last night as it clung to your clothes after your dinner with him. The earthy scent of cedar and something citrusy filled your nose and you can’t help but inhale deeply. 

“Wait, is this the hoodie you wore into the paddock this morning?” 

Lando looks at you like you couldn’t have asked a more obvious question. “Of course?” 

“So people will know it’s yours when they see me in it…” 

Again, Lando gives you a look that seems to say ‘duh, silly girl’. “Exactly. That’s kind of the point, so people know who you belong to.”  

“Belong to?” You arch a brow, managing to keep the tone light even though you suddenly can’t feel your toes. 

“Yep.” He says simply before dropping a kiss onto the tip of your nose. 

The blush that flashes across your cheeks has Lando smirking down at you. His stomach swoops a little at the the way it feels having you standing there in his drivers room wearing his clothing. The possessive streak that winds it’s way through his veins at the sight of you catches him off guard. He’d never really considered himself territorial when it came to relationships but something about the sight of you in his hoodie he had just taken off had his heart pounding.  

Lando’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he’s pulled away for a moment. While he talks to his performance coach on the phone, you wander over to where your purse sits on the small black leather couch. Your stomach rumbles a bit, reminding you that both Hannah and you had been running so late this morning you’d had to skip breakfast. 

You sink down into the soft couch, pulling out the fruit you’d snagged from the hotel’s grab and go store. Popping open the lid, you stab at a bit of fruit before popping it in your mouth. You’re distracted for a moment, feeling the couch dip beside you as Lando sits down. “Did you bring snacks?” He asks, tugging you towards him so your shoulders are pressed up against each other.

“I brought myself breakfast. I slept in past my alarm this morning because someone wouldn’t stop texting me last night and kept me up past my bedtime so I didn't have time to eat.” 

Lando smirks, enjoying the way you sass him. “I managed to get here on time, my love.” 

You narrow your eyes at him playfully before you take another bite of your breakfast. “Whatever. I’m not sharing.” 

Lando frowns. “Who even said I wanted any of your gross fruit anyway. What even is that…It’s too dark to be a mango.” 

Your grin widens as you realize he has no idea what’s in the cup in your hands. “Lando, it’s a papaya.” 

yourusername posted

yourusername hiya papaya hannahstjohn enemy territory >>>lando joint custody >>>hannahstjohn as long as you pay child support >>>yourusername i can see the calendar invite now: PR meeting with McLaren, 9am Monday >>>lando hahaha fuck off >>>yourusername meetings been moved up to 2pm TODAY!!! >>>user2010 guys, i fear she is hilarious and i am in love user222 wasn't she in red bull yesterday??? >>>user239 this girl is getting around the paddock, isn't she??? jfc user029 the adhd hyperfixation crossover i never knew i needed >>>user483 why did this speak to me on a spiritual level?

The elevator dings, signaling it’s arrival to your floor later that night. Lando had insisted on walking you back to your room after you’d finished dinner with Carlos and Rebecca in the hotel restaurant. 

“Did you have a good time today?” Lando asks quietly, the exhaustion from the activity of the day edging into his voice as you both walk slowly down the empty hallway. 

“I mean, I got to see you make a wild pass on the very last lap to steal the win away from that Ferrari, didn’t I?” You say, bumping your shoulder against his. Grinning, your memory flickers back to the way the garage had exploded when he had dove into the corner with millimeters to spare. You hand’t anticipated how electrifying it would be to watch Lando win but it was an experience you knew you’d never forget. 

Lando’s fingers brush the small of your back as you reach your hotel room. It takes a brief moment for you to find your key and when you turn around to face him fully, you’re surprised at the hungry look in his eyes. 

“That was pretty good, wasn’t it?” He asks, the cocky grin on his face grows as you lean back into the wall, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“Now all I need is to see you take a champagne shower tomorrow and the weekend will be complete.” 

Your heart pounds when Lando leans in closer, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath fan out over your cheek. His cologne distracts you, that same woody and citrus smell digging its way under your skin so you’ll forever associate it with him. 

“Is that so?” He murmurs. 

“Yep.” You manage to whisper, trying desperately hard not to give away how flustered he’s got you. 

“Speaking of tomorrow, did you know that I’m a very superstitious person?” Lando shifts almost imperceptibly closer to you.

Your cheeks heat as you struggle to focus on the words that are coming out of his mouth instead of his lips that are so full that you can’t help but wonder what it would feel like being kissed by them. “Is that so?”

Your voice is so embarrassingly breathy Lando nearly laughs. He’s enjoying watching you squirm under the heat of his gaze.

“Mmmhmm” He hums, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip.  

Your brain scrambles to keep up. “So, how can I help you with that, sir?” 

The flare in Lando’s eyes at your words is near feral. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and reaches up a hand to turn his black McLaren hat around so the bill is facing backwards. Your knees nearly buckle at the move and you swear you whimper when he braces his arm against the wall, his palm settling inches away from your head. His other hand rests heavily on your hip, squeezing at the flesh there. 

“Sir?” He growls. “Oh I like that.” You blink up at him, suddenly unable to form coherent words. Lando’s lips curl into a satisfied grin. “We’ll come back to that little bit later, though. Let’s discuss how you can help. I’m going to need you in my garage tomorrow because again, superstitious. You’re probably the reason I won today, after all.” 

“Oh? I didn’t know I had that kind of effect on you.” You finally find the words to tease back. 

Lando shifts his weight towards you then, pressing his hips into your body. You feel his unmistakable hardness digging into you, your pupils blowing wide. 

“You have no idea what kind of effect you have on me.” He murmurs into the soft skin at your neck. “Come on, I need my good luck charm cheering me on. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for messing up what could be my first big win of the season, now would you?” 

All you can do is shake your head, once again fully lost to the way Lando is looking at you, breathing on you, pressing his entire length into your belly. It’s a surprise you’ve maintained the ability to stand, really. 

“Come on, baby please? Drive with me to the track tomorrow. Spend the day with me.” 

You almost laugh at the absurdity of his request. Drive with Lando to the track where you would most certainly be photographed arriving with him? Spend the day with him? Give the photographers more opportunities to connect you two? 

“Do you want to cause chaos?” You say, laughter edging its way into your voice. 

“With you? Always.” 

The air sparks between you, thick and heavy with the tension that’d been building since the moment he put his hand on your thigh while he drove you back to the hotel earlier. Lando’s eyes, usually bright and playfully shifted into something darker, something hungrier that had you swallowing thickly. The playful banter that you’d been batting back and forth all day had shifted in the last few moments, the undercurrent of tension now a physical force you could feel pressing against your chest. 

“You’re crazy.” You shake your head, eyes darting away from Lando’s down towards his lips. 

Lando sees where you’re looking and catches his bottom lip between his teeth, smirk growing even wider. He lowers his head, breath warm against your lips. “Crazy about how you’re looking at me right now.” He rasps, voice husky and low. 

The world narrows, the hallway fading into a blur of black and white as his lips finally meet yours. It’s soft at first, tentative and gentle like he’s taking his time with you, savoring the way you feel against him. After a moment though, the dam breaks and Lando tilts his head to deepen the kiss. He drags his hand away from your hip up to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he yanks you closer. 

You melt against him, your own hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the solid warmth beneath his shirt. The kiss was everything you’d been thinking about since the moment you met him, a fusion of sweetness and heat, a delicious blend of anticipation and raw desire. 

Lando pulls back slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes, still stormy with passion, searched yours. “Fuck.” He whispers before dragging his mouth down the column of your throat. You tilt your head back to give him better access, a desperate whine spilling from your lips. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.” Lando says against the crook of your neck. 

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. Lips still tingling, you struggle to catch your breath and slow your pounding heart as it hammers out a frantic rhythm against your ribcage. 

Lando lifts his head up to look at you. The intensity of his gaze has you clutching at the fabric of his white button down. “Can I kiss you again?” He murmurs. 

“Please.” You beg. 

Lando’s eyes flare, pupils going wide. “Good girl.” 

It’s a miracle you stay on your feet. 

He closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. This time, there’s no hesitation, no restraint. He doesn’t hold back as he covers your lips with his, nipping at the your bottom lip just hard enough to elicit a gasp from you. The kiss deepens even further, a connection that runs deeper than either of you had anticipated sparking to life. 

The world outside the hallway ceases to exist. Someone could have come running past shouting about a fire and neither of you would have reacted. The only thing you feel is Lando’s lips on yours, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the intoxicating scent of his cologne filling your senses. It felt like a moment suspended in time, a stolen moment of pure passion that deepens the already growing connection you shared with him. 

You have no idea how long Lando spends kissing you but when he pulls back, you lift your hands to your lips, feeling how swollen they’ve become from how good he’s worked you over. 

“I should go before I can’t anymore.” Lando says, eyes full of hesitation like he doesn’t really believe what he’s saying. 

“You could stay.” You whisper, reaching out to trail your fingers down his jaw. He leans into the palm of your hand, kissing the warm skin there before he shakes his head. 

“I could, but I won’t.” 

Disappointment surges through you so sharply a whine escapes before you can control yourself. 

Lando chuckles while he runs his fingers through your hair. “I said no more flings and I meant it. I’m going to do this the right way this time and that means turning around and walking away before I throw you over my shoulder and open that fucking door myself.” 

Lando was seriously impressed with the amount of restraint he was showing right now. He’d been thinking of this, of the moment he finally got to touch you, taste you, feel you against him, since the moment he ran into you in the paddock yesterday. When you two had started talking and getting to know each other, he’d been attracted to your personality, the way you had such a passion for life, the way you never felt anything halfway or lightly. But now that he was here with you, had you physically within his reach, the way his skin tingled whenever you were nearby was a feeling he’d never experienced before and he was obsessed. 

You can’t help the frown that forms on your face and Lando leans down to kiss it away. “So you don’t want…” You say against his lips. 

Lando shakes his head, pulling away. “No, baby. I do. Very much, trust me. I just…” He rakes his hand through his curls, trying to find the right words, the vulnerability you’re pulling from him is unsettling but not all that unwelcome either. “I just don’t want to rush this. This isn’t a stolen weekend for me. I want to take my time with you, okay?” 

Your heart thuds at his words, thankful that you’re not the only one feeling this way. After a beat you finally find your voice. “Okay.” 

Lando smiles before dropping a kiss onto your forehead while he holds onto your chin. “Good. Get some sleep, I’ll text you when I figure out what time we have to leave tomorrow morning for the track, okay?” 

It’s all you can do to nod in agreement before you watch Lando turn on his heel and walk towards the elevator. 

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source new couple alert???? @/lando and @/yourusername were spotted arriving at the track together ahead of sunday's grand prix. They've been spotted together frequently this weekend with the American influencer spending a second day in McLaren's garage cheering on the British driver. They were also spotted late last night on what looked to be a double date with Carlos Sainz and his partner Rebecca. I think this is all the confirmation we need that Norris is officially DONE with once rumored fling and british model @/its_allegra_babes user999 ohhhh this is juicy user919 @/its_allegra_babes uh...so what was that hint about going to Monaco for the off week??? >>>user111 looks like she's gonna be alone in Monaco...or third wheeling it. hahahahah >>>user928 HAHA seriously. where are the 'private but not secret' people now? SEE he does know how to claim a girl in public >>>user992 he hasn't claimed her either??? until that man says the words 'my girlfriend' they're all clout chasing wannabes... user333 NAH because i have NEVER seen this man look that happy when he's with allegra tho. >>>user832 i'm here for the race and have paddock club tickets. i saw them eating lunch before the race and BOY let me tell you. that man is not thinking about anyone but @/yourusername

tag list:

@shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Obsession (Part 2)

Player 001 x reader 📖

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Part 1

Tw: stalker!In Ho

Note: (c/n) stand for cat name

5 years had gone by and all In Ho had to go off of were bank statements and transactions to know where you were and if you were still alive. He knew where you lived, your favorite places to eat, to watch movies, and where your favorite shop was. He also knows you have new kitten, but not his name, probably something like (c/n).

No new lover. Nothing since you left. You picked up a job as a (whatever you wanna be), and were living. He knew in his mind the reason you couldn’t move on was because of him and he knew it.

He snuck around and watched you through plain view. Sometimes he sent people to watch you and report back to him. Other times, he’d travel to where you were and stalk you, follow you to the market, ducking you between isles, or on the train, watching you through a crowd of people.

He would stand in front of the cottage you bought on the edge of town, how easy it’d be to take you. You had a bad habit of leaving your windows open. Leaving your life open for all to see. He’s watched you masturbate more times than he can count. He has videos of you throwing your head back as you cum. Your moans quietly seeping through the window. He would jerk off at the same time, cumming in the darkness as he watched you, leaving his cum on the flowers that you planted along the walls of your house.

He hated to admit to himself but he was jerking off to you almost every right, smelling your jacket like a sick man. I am sick he admitted.

So many days and nights he was grabbing onto his bed sheets, pressed up against his shower wall or even in his chair by the big screen, he was cumming for you, with you in mind, he missed you. But he missed your pussy more. Today, he was determined to get it. He approached you as you drank a coffee, typing on your laptop.

“Hello ma’am” he bowed “would you like to hear about your lord and savior Jesus Christ?”

“No, not right n-“ you stopped. “What’re you doing here, In Ho? It’s been 5 years, do you think what I said changed?” You say coldly.

“I know it hasn’t.” He sat before you can continue speaking. “I miss you (y/n). I mean, really fucking miss you. It’s been a lonely 5 years, I miss your smell, your touch, your hair. I miss the way you talk and your smile. I just miss you”

“You know, for a very intelligent man, you’re acting and sounding really fucking stupid.” You scoff rolling your eyes at him. “I mean, you miss me. So what? I miss Young il, but I’m never getting him back, am I?”

“But I’m right here?”

“No… you aren’t young il… I don’t know you”

“And what, you think I lied?!” You nodded. “About what? Huh? What would I possibly lie to you about?”

“Everything, that whole relationship we developed, that sex we had, that love.” You say. “As far as I’m concerned, Young il was an angel and you don’t even exist.”

“But my wallet does?”

“Honestly, you can have your card back.” You shake your head. “I don’t need dirty money”

“It’s clean. It comes from the stocks i invest in. Really (y/n), do you honestly think I’d give you game money?” He looks at you intensely. He wanted to tell you how attracted to you he still was. How his cock still aches for you. How he just wishes to fuck you. It was sitting across from you that he realized he was going to fuck you… whether you liked it or not.

“What do you want?” You sighed finally.

“One date with you. Please.” He stated. He knew deep in his heart that you still wanted him, you yearned for him. He needed you.

“No” you say and stand up.

“Look, one date, to show you who I really am as a person.” He argued. “Who I am outside of those damned games that ruined us. If after that you still decide you hate me, that’ll be all. You can live your life and I can live mine knowing at least I tried to make it better” he pleaded. His eyes pulling at your heart strings as they once did. You saw Young il for a brief moment, before seeing In Ho. You saw the man that was so sweet and gentle.

“Fine. One.” you conceded. You traded numbers and you left. Not knowing that In Ho could now tap your phone, could ruin your whole life. But truly the only thing he wanted to ruin was you.

You made it to your little cottage. It stood on the edge of the city with a small village of cottage farmers surrounding it. Fluffy baby cows and little lambs screamed at you from your neighbors house. Horses neighbors and goats cried. Your life was perfect, this place was perfect. Young il would have loved it… In Ho obviously prefers different style of life. Black and gold, power, money.

“Hi (c/n)” you say as he purred at you. He looped around you as you walked further into your house. You placed your items on your kitchen table. It was already 6. You cooked some dinner and watched an American drama you found on Netflix. Laughing along with the characters.

In Ho made it to his own home. The black and gold now insulted his eyes, it had ever since he saw the disgust on your face while you spoke angry and heartbroken. He sat at his computer, plugging in his phone. He stayed up for hours, deep into the night, hacking into your phone.

“Photos” he said aloud as he clicked it. He found a treasure trove of pictures. You with some friends, with family, birthdays, dinners, then he found your private photos.

“Let’s see (y/n), what do you do all alone” he whispered opening it. Pictures and videos of yourself floated into view, things other men should never see. Disgusting men like him should never see. He quickly searched through your sent and deleted messages, as far back as he could go, they’d never been sent. He returned back to the photos and stared at each on individually, videos playing, hardening his cock.

In Ho began to touch himself as he watched, his hand moving in sync with yours on the screen. He felt like he was participating in your intimate moment, like an invisible partner who you couldn't see or feel but was there nonetheless. He couldn’t help but freely moan into the emptiness of his room.

As the video played on, In Ho's movements became faster and more urgent. He could feel himself getting closer to climax, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt like a teenager again, watching porn, anxious that his parents may walk in. The thought that these were moments meant for no one else's eyes but yours made it even more exhilarating for him.

“I’m gonna cum” you said on camera. To him. “Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking cum” In Ho was getting sent into overdrive heavy sighs coursing through his lungs. “Oh god, Young il, I’m gonna cum on your fingers” he lost it. You were pleasuring to the thought of him, maybe his over persona, but still him nonetheless.

With one final stroke from you on screen and a simultaneous motion from In Ho's own hand came the peak of pleasure for him followed closely by release. His orgasm washed over him so strongly it left him gasping loudly within seconds all over both his keyboard and along edges near the monitor until reaching very tip top edge finally. He was panting, falling backwards, sinking deep into his chair. Cum heavily covered his desk space, now stained forevermore, a mess entirely due to a solely singular sickening act alone performed freely without fear. Through his sinful act.

If you knew would you forgive him?

[nikid-aze]

KISSES OVERDOSE — yang jungwon.

SYNOPSIS. There was a thing about addiction, all your life you heard your parents telling you to stay away from drugs, alcohol or any kind of substance that could altern your way of thinking or just your mind for a short or longer time. But what would be teenage years and college life without all of those ? Boring, so you slowly became one of those, becoming yourself an addict of any kind of substance that could make you forget your shitty life. What you didn’t think about was that boy, that you somehow meet at the hospital after an overdose, and how obsessed and addicted you would get to him. He was slowly becoming your own drug in some kind of way, and you were slowly becoming his own.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ yang jungwon x reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 lee heeseung, park sunghoon, winter (aespa), chaewon (lesserafim), probably others idols added there..!

genre﹙💬﹚⸝⸝⸝ serie, romance, strangers to lovers, fanfiction, written chapter (!!), multiple chapters

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ mention of drinking, drug use, mental health and mental illness, could contain smut, parental abuse, psychological manipulation and abuse, please be aware of the warning before reading my work, it could be hard to read at some moments.

taglist ‎⸝⸝⸝ @firstclassjaylee @rikidaze @jwonistic @meowwwon added to the tag list 💋 (hope you would enjoy this serie !)

words count ‎⸝⸝⸝ 1174 (it’s a small introduction 💋)

rains’ note ‎⸝⸝⸝ it’s only a teaser/ pilot and I’m so proud of posting it ? okay okay, we can talk about a new start for me and my account here, and im so happy about it. the chapter would probably be way longer than this little introduction, but I hope you would enjoy every part of this serie ! donc forget that you can give me any feedback about my writing or this serie in general so I could know what I can work on or what I can change.. anyway, I hope you enjoy reading the star of the serie ! 💋

MASTERLIST | NEXT >>

If there were three things your parents had taught you from a young age, they were these three:

1. To always respect God and never disrespect Him.

2. To always stay away from boys your own age, especially when they reached eighteen.

3. To never touch any substance, alcohol or drugs, that could alter your way of thinking.

And since then, you had always made sure to follow their rules to the letter. Focusing mainly on your psychology studies, you had no free time to even think about this kind of nonsense anyway.

Not that the idea of ​​having a boyfriend had never crossed your mind, but simply because you believed that your studies were the most important thing for having a decent future that would please you.

So, for twenty years now, you'd been following your parents' advice, making sure to stay as far away as possible from all kinds of substances, which, however, young people your age seemed to enjoy and consume at unimaginable hours simply to "clear their minds and get high."

This was actually what you'd heard being said in the corridors of your university during your lunch break, and despite your disturbing curiosity, a corner of your mind made you realize that it was just nonsense when you remembered your parents' words.

Alcohol didn't have a particularly negative effect on others, according to your observations; it simply made them unaware of their actions or words for an indefinite period of time. When your best friend came back from a party in the middle of the night to your apartment, you were no longer as surprised to see her in such a spectacular state of euphoria while she could hardly stand on her own two feet and almost fell on the floor in the face simply because she wasn't looking where she was going.

Alcohol played a very important role in the lives of young people and students. No matter where you set foot, you'd notice someone your age with a bottle in their hand, at any time of day. It had actually become part of your daily life to notice the euphoric state of some of your classmates in the university corridors while you were just looking for a quiet place to study.

All that alcohol, as far as the eye could see, gave you a headache.

Then, when it wasn't alcohol that was present, you noticed that some students found themselves with cigarettes between their lips.

Nothing too bad at first glance, but the smell of the smoke leaving their lips quickly made you realize that it might not have been just a cigarette. then when it wasn't the smell — which made you think of one of those nightclubs that everyone was talking about — you had confirmation by noticing the dilation of the pupils of some of your classmates.

Not to mention the many times when both girls and boys had come to you, asking if you were using them simply to avoid being without stimulants during the day.

Stimulant.

That's what most of your university students saw themselves as addicted to, stimulants that only made them unable to think clearly and strangely resembled snails.

"God, if you love me — and I think you do —please never let me end up like the students at my university."

you found yourself whispering one evening when you were supposed to be studying. The temptation and the invitation being far too strong, you were forced to pray — in a way for the best — that you wouldn't be drawn into a completely unknown world that strangely frightened you.

"My hands will never touch the things that make others so unconscious and thoughtless. And no drop of alcohol will end up in my body."

You had closed your eyes for a moment — as if to try to feel the slightest connection to God in the moment — then, after what seemed like a long moment of silence and calm, you had stopped everything, knowing that one way or another you would notice the effects of this prayer, or the others, in the days that followed.

Even if the idea of ​​drinking alcohol had most certainly crossed your mind during the day, the very evening of that difficult day you found yourself praying — or simply confiding your thoughts and emotions — to God, since according to your parents and acquaintances, he listened to and accepted the mistakes of his believers.

Simply, despite all the desire and compassion you put into this kind of situation, you had this horrible feeling that even with your many efforts, alcohol and drugs would end up in your hands without you realizing it.

This feeling practically made you sick, how could someone like you — who was a follower of the most respectful things and the most thoughtful choices — feel like that just from a sensation?

After all, it was just a sensation deep inside you, it meant nothing, especially with the many prayers and confessions you made practically every week, if not every night.

It happened to you a few times, when you were back at your parents' house for the holidays, that your nights were reduced to endless nightmares or your parents finding you in your room, sitting on the windowsill with a bottle of alcohol, whatever it was, and a joint between your fingers as if these were things you did every night. The rest was nothing but a series of disapproval from your parents — who kept telling you that you had no faith in being loved by God if you were to do things that reflected such deadly sins.

And each time, you woke up with a start, Lyon heart pounding against your chest as you struggled to catch your breath. You knew so much that these things were unacceptable that you became obsessed with them, in the sense that you told yourself every day that you would never touch them and that you would surely prefer to lose a part of your body — like a hand or a foot — rather than end up with alcohol in your blood, and drugs that made you as reactive as a sloth.

Unfortunately, life wasn't as simple as you'd imagined as a child, and despite everything you tried to do to remain the adorable girl your parents could be proud of, nothing was certain about the events that could happen overnight.

Your many prayers, your thoughtful choices, or even the hours of revision you inflicted on yourself every day were in no way what could protect you from the dangers of university life or simply promise you that your life wouldn't take a dramatic turn overnight because of a decision you made on a whim.

Because despite the many years of telling yourself that you were meant to stay healthy and problem-free, life always had that moment, that decision, when strangely, all the choices already made would fade away — as if you were starting over — and no one could save you from possibly drowning in an unknown and dangerous world.

[directdogman]

Hi, I hope you're having a decent day! I'm sorry if this is an invasive set of questions - feel free not to answer - but do you still actively like DSaF as your own creation, or is it more of a "it was fun while it lasted but i outgrew it and it's for the best to leave it behind" kind of project? Do you ever regret making the games? If you knew they would get so popular, is there anything you would have changed about them? Is there anywhere I could read more of your writing.

It fluctuates a bit. These last couple of years, I've really just been sorta nostalgic for it. I've seen a lot of people discuss those games being a source of comfort during bad times in their lives, people talking about how much the characters mean to them and it's hard not to smile when you see that.

It's a funny thing for close friends of yours to see people WITH fanmade DSaF merch out in the wild, or to watch a random youtube video and being hit with a DSaF reference outta nowhere. It happens from time to time, even today. On a few occasions, I've even had a person reference my work to me in real life and not realize who they were talking to, believe it or not. It's really fun to play dumb and get someone to explain your work to you like you don't know what it is.

I certainly didn't think any of that would happen when I first made the series, or even during development. I think the normal assumption would be to look at DSaF as it exists now and assume its release was a peak for it, but believe it or not, the official discord only had 30 people in it shortly before 3 dropped! The archive listing of the series (reposted to a single page after the series ended) is now sitting at over 1.1 MILLION downloads.

People kinda assume the true heyday of something is when it's new, when it's fresh and novel. For instance, some people look back at when FNaF itself was new and see that time as its peak because it had a lot of internet cultural relevance as big new indie thing on the block. But, raw numbers don't lie. The series has been continually growing since its conception and that growth has similarly bled over to its fan projects. This explains why DSaF, despite not having a new series release in almost 6 years, seems to be inexplicably growing.

Just recently, I saw someone post footage of a scene from DSaF 2 on Twitter, which got over 16k likes. People praised its writing and largely celebrated the scene. The ironic thing about that particular scene is that I remembered being unsure if it was good or not, so I showed it off in one of the FNaF community hubs. The response was broadly lukewarm to negative. Now, it's held up as one of the best scenes in those games. That's kind of the point I'm trying to make, my thoughts on the series have certainly changed with everyone's else with years of hindsight.

Heh. I'm not sure if I've talked about this in a long time, but y'know, the very first scene I implemented in-game was actually the very first Phone Guy scene in DSaF 1, more or less exactly how it appears in-game today. This was before I'd even written the bulk of the game. I was pretty unfamiliar with visual novels as a whole, pretty unsure if something like this would be palatable to a fandom that was really just used to sit 'n' survive stuff that were far more gameplay than text. I mean, there wasn't any FNaF fangames really LIKE DSaF before that point. Closest was FNaFb, a jokey turn based RPG made in the same engine.

The engine I made the game in is also not exactly fit for VNs out of the box either, and I wasn't 100% sure the idea would actually work. But, the very first time I added the image of the prize corner, Phone Guy, the audio of that iconic cheesy stock track and booted up a test screen, I had a little moment where I said "Oh. I think I'm onto something interesting here." I kinda remembering instantly realizing in that single moment how much potential the idea had. Over 8 years later, I still remember that moment like it was yesterday.

I think lately, that's the sort of stuff I think of when I see people coming to me and asking about the series. Yes, it's really rough around the edges, yes, there's jokes that've aged poorly. But, it is a source of comfort for people and entertains tens of thousands of people each month. And that's gotta count for something, right?

[hamburgerhelpersotherhand]

Infatuation Rewritten - Chapter 1

Joe Goldberg x Reader (ft. Love Quinn)

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Summary: Love's longtime friend moves back to LA. Fortunately, Joe (Will) never had too much trouble adapting (Season 2).

Warnings: Alcohol consumption (we're all adults here), Joe actually loses his mind a little at the end.

Now for something nobody expected! The long-awaited rewrite for Infatuation... I have 40 pages of this, by the way. I'd like for *some* of them to see the light of day... and so I've told myself: If I wait for it to be perfect, It'll never be posted. I hope you all enjoy, and feel free to share your thoughts! xoxo Ona

My eyes roamed the list of names by the front door of the apartment complex. There were about four total, so finding yours was the easiest part. The hardest step came in the form of mustering up the courage to press the buzzer. But, was it really a trouble with courage? The more I thought, as my finger hovered over the button, the more I began to consider it to be uncertainty.

I pause and reach my other hand into my pocket. My fingers slide across the screen of your phone, and I remind myself why I'm here. Simply put, I’m here to give you your phone back. I found it on the passenger’s seat of my car and almost thought to tell Love… Instantly, a part of me knew she would’ve pried it from my grip to give to you herself – and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity for us to speak again, this time unmonitored by her perceptive gaze and sharp ears… and without the alcohol in your system.

Last night, you clung to Love as she touched you tenderly, playing the role of your dutiful sober saviour. She hosted a dinner and she invited her friends. One of them was you.

“A good friend,” She had called you. The last she’d spoken to you was ten years ago, and I guess I hadn’t realized good friends stay out of reach for a decade at a time. It didn’t matter how much time had split you two apart, though, because Love embraced you with a warm smile and open arms. There wasn’t any malice, no judgement either. She was just happy to have you back in her life. When you got too drunk to take public transportation, Love tried to coax you into staying the night. You wouldn’t budge, even with a slipping tongue, fluttering eyes, and a head too heavy to stay upright. So she compromised: you let her coddle you, sober you up just enough, and I drove you home. It wasn’t even that late, Love just couldn't stop pouring you wine after wine after wine. You seemed like you needed it, though. Tense as you were. Pent up little thing.

“What’s your relationship like with Love?” I asked, feeling rather bold with your inebriated self. The image of her hand resting on your thigh flashed in my mind. I laughed. “She hadn’t mentioned you until you’d moved back to LA. She practically can't shut up about you now.”

You shifted in your seat like a child. No position in my car seemed comfortable for you, and you had made it more than obvious.

“She’s a good friend.” You responded and looked out the window like it meant something. Love had said the same thing — I believed you both — but I felt as though you were withholding something else from the conversation. The annoying bell on your purse jingles as you tuck it closer to your side.

“You two seem close. Should I be concerned?” I then asked teasingly, laughing to fill the awkward tension of a silent car ride. I wanted to spark something in you, but you brushed it off as you curled your arms around your waist.

“I think I had too much to drink…” I glanced at you, and I was suddenly nervous. Your coat was askew, hanging off your shoulders. I knew you were drunk, but your direct announcement sounded to me as a warning.

“Tell me if you need to throw up, okay?” You slowly nodded before slotting your forehead against the cool car window. We remained like that until you got home, choosing to stumble your way for a block to feel a semblance of privacy – but I watched you walk up those steps. I knew your building, and you were still too fucked up to realize.

I pull your phone out of my pocket and look it over one more time. My thumb runs over the plastic case before turning it around and looking at myself in the black reflection.

Your phone is dead. Has been since I found it. None of my chargers fit into the port, unsurprisingly. It’s one of those phones where the keyboard slides out, for Pete's sake. Your phone is more than a few generations old. A brick. I chewed my fingers raw trying anything I could to get it started again – I wanted to pry, really. I’ll be honest with you here, I really wanted this glimpse into your personal affairs.

I wondered, exasperatedly, about what you were hiding behind this screen. Clutching it tighter into my palm, I lift my free hand and press the buzzer.

A few long moments after the sound, I hear a click.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Will –” I begin to say, ready to explain myself in the same manner I had rehearsed at home, eating breakfast, in the car, and on my way up the steps. However, you cut me off immediately.

“Do you have my phone?”

My heart skips a beat and I’m momentarily stunned. I blink a few times before speaking.

“Yeah, actually.” I replied. “I found it on the passenger seat this morning, I guess I didn't see it when I got home last night.”

“I’m going to buzz you in.” Perfect.

After hearing the buzzer, the door clicked. I made my way inside. The stairs were wooden and creaky, the walls showing obvious water damage, and the lights hummed obnoxiously. Obviously, none of this was of your doing. Your landlord just didn’t care.

Your door’s paint was chipping off, revealing the cracked wooden layer underneath, but the rusted numbers on your door somehow looked worse. I knocked.

I heard the shuffling of your feet from behind the door before it opened. When your head peeked out, you gave me a smile and extended your hand.

I momentarily look at it, thinking… Right. I drop your phone into your awaiting palm. I almost thought you wanted me to reach out as well. That would’ve been too good, right?

“May I use your bathroom?” I ask.

Your mouth opens momentarily, as you look away and off to the side. There’s nothing there, you’re simply thinking it through and disappearing into your head again.

“Sure.” You then reply, reluctantly scooting back and giving me my first glimpse into your apartment.

If only you knew how ecstatic I was to slip through the crack of your front door. My heart thumps excitedly, as I waste no time looking around. By the door sits a coat hanger with a few pairs of shoes around its feet.

“Should I take off my boots?” I ask.

“Yeah, actually. I’d appreciate it.”

I untie the laces and slip them off my feet. Then, just as I drop them by the coat hanger, you beckon me to follow.

Your apartment is a fair size, with one large space making up both the kitchen and the living room. Right of the front door, a short hallway leads us to a room. As you continue past the door, I slow myself and look to my left. Your hallway has a little louvred closet, and I can’t help but reach out and open it. There’s nothing exciting inside, only white bed sheets.

“The bathroom is over here.” I suddenly hear you say from within the bedroom. I close the closet and hurry along, hesitantly making my way into your room.

I examine the layout of your furniture: your bed is made, your dresser tucked away in the corner, your desk by the window, and your small bookcase right by its side. I take another look toward your window: It overlooks the front of the building, I think. I want to look around more, but I’ve already entered an uncomfortable silence through this simple observation… you’re bound to find it weird. Hell, you’re already finding it weird – my being here – if your reluctance to me using your bathroom is anything to go by.

“Thanks.” I tell you, nodding in your direction and scooting by to enter the bathroom. I peer over my shoulder, however, and take another peek into your bedroom before shutting the door.

In the bathroom, I made my way to the toilet and listened to your shuffling from the other side of the door. I lifted the seat without paying much attention, and stilled when I heard you leave the bedroom entirely. I didn’t really need to go to the bathroom, but I wasn’t lying when I said I needed to use it.

I waited a moment, lowered the toilet seat again, and didn’t bother flushing or washing my hands. The sound could set you off that I was finished, and I definitely wasn’t finished. I needed the opportunity to snoop just a tad bit more. I unlocked and creaked the bathroom door open, observing the quiet room with more attention than I had before.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I leave the door open. My head snaps in the direction of your bedroom door and I pleasantly find it shut from the rest of your apartment. You’re making this too easy. I make my way around quietly, being careful with my steps as I approach your nightstand with a familiar object glinting in the natural sunlight of the room: your phone, on its charger. When I press the button on its side, the logo appears as it powers on.

I take the time needed for the phone to boot up as an excuse to look about your room. The bookcase, which I had only glanced at before, takes shape infront of me. My hand drifts along the spines of the books… and I feel unsatisfied. You have a small selection of kitschy modern romance novels. My judging eyes shift to your dresser, the framed pictures sitting on top catching my attention. I don't recognize anyone, but a weird feeling washes over me. You’re not in any of these pictures. I feel a… disconnection… from the room. My eyes move elsewhere and I catch sight of a few unopened cardboard boxes against the wall near the bedroom door. They’re folded. Unused. I wonder briefly as I look back down to your phone. It’s open.

Unlocking it was easy, no password. You know, the good thing about an older cellphone model is how easy it is to just… get in. I flip your phone over and pop the back right off. I slide the chip out of my pocket and right into place. Once everything is back in its place, I unlock your phone and fully install the hardware. As much as I would like to start snooping about your phone now, I close it and set it back down on your nightstand. I make my way back into the bathroom, pulling my phone out all the while. I open the freshly installed app and bite at my lip as I see the device sync up. Done.

I flush the toilet, wash my hands, and make my way out of the bedroom. When I step back into your living room kitchen, you’re seated at the short island, your back to the small living room.

“Thanks for letting me use your bathroom,” I say, making my way back to the front door. You swivel the chair as I walk by and watch me duck for my boots.

“Thanks for bringing me my phone. I was almost going to head out to Anavrin–”

“Oh, I don’t work Saturdays. You would’ve missed me entirely.” I say all matter-of-factly, like an asshole. You shrink.

“Noted.”

As I loop the laces around, I look up at you. Your brows knit together and you avert your eyes from me. I watch you for another moment, smiling to myself. You’re nervous.

“What’re all the boxes for?” I ask, looking around the apartment. They’re a little sprawled out everywhere, but most of them are still folded up. I chew my cheek as I wonder – are you packing up to leave already? You just got here not even a week ago. Is that what’s gotten you so nervous? Cause I caught you? I bite my tongue and choose to rephrase my thoughts. “Still unpacking?”

“No, It’s… complicated.” You respond.

I nod my head and stand. Your eyes fleet to me for a second before drawing away. Is it me, Y/N? Am I making you nervous?

“Thank you again, for my phone.” You mumble, drifting off somewhere. I smile wide, and huff. You’re not a threat. A pest, likely. But not a threat.

“Yeah, no problem.”

I’m out the door not a moment later, spinning my keys while on the way to my car.

—

Back at my apartment, I notice the door’s unlocked.

I'm cautious as I walk through the threshold, peering ahead only to notice Love behind the counter.

“Love, I didn’t expect you to break into my apartment.” I tease, taking off my boots and shedding my jacket.

“I thought you’d be home,” she whines. “Besides, it’s not breaking in when you’ve got a key.”

I make my way into the kitchen, to her side, and slip my hands around her waist. She turns her head to look at me, a big smile on her face.

“Where were you?” She mumbles, still looking down at the counter.

“I went over to Y/N’s apartment,” I began, rolling the hem of her shirt between my fingers. “She forgot her phone in my car last night.” I kiss her shoulder.

“Mmh,” Love hums. “That was nice of you.”

I look over her shoulder, noticing the restaurant brochures infront of her.

“What were you doing here?”

“Looking for something to order. I don’t really want to cook again tonight.”

I lift my hands off her hips, placing them on either side of the counter. I press forward, and slide one of the menus into view.

“This one seems good.” I whisper, inconsiderate of what I’m pointing to. I’ve got one thing on my mind right now, and it isn’t the brochures.

Catching onto my carelessness, Love turns around and faces me. She tilts her head and observes my face for a moment before sliding her arms around my neck.

“How did it go?” Love suddenly inquires about us again.

“It went well,” I tell her, keeping it short. Still, she pries.

“Tell me more,”

“Well, she showed me to her bathroom,” I look around, as though I was recalling the few minutes I stood in your apartment. I’ll keep the snooping to myself. “Aaand, that’s about it.”

Love thins her lip. She’s pensive for a moment. She thinks, and I watch her grapple with her thoughts as she looks about the kitchen. She clears her throat before speaking.

“Will,” She starts, her hand taps my chest and I watch it circle around. “I wouldn’t be asking you this if it wasn’t important, but… can you do me a huge favour?”

My hands find Love’s face, cupping her cheeks, and pressing her forehead to mine. My eyes search hers, and I pout.

“Anything for you,” I tell her. Anything.

“Forty has this thing tomorrow… I didn’t think ahead, and my plans are jumbled. But, this is really important.”

For a second, my stomach drops. I try not to let the horror show on my face as I’m convinced she’s about to glue me to Forty’s side for a day. But she continues.

“Y/N needs help clearing the apartment,” My eyes narrow, and I nod as I continue to listen. “You see… Will. It isn’t really my place to say this, but I thought you should know her mom passed away a few months ago. She’s been trying to sort through the estate, and they finally gave her the green light to clear out her old apartment. I can’t be there to help.”

Love’s hands slide over mine, cupping my fingers as I cup her cheeks.

“Are you free sometime tomorrow? Would you be able to help her out?”

With this revelation, the framed pictures sitting on the dresser make sense.

“I mean… yeah. I can do that.”

Love lights up at my response, hopping up for an intimate kiss. My hands fall to her ass, but she pulls away too soon. Always too soon.

“Thank you, Will,” She grins, tapping my chest again. “I’ll let her know.”

As Love pulls out her phone, I watch her tap away at the screen.

“You know, that entire complex looks unlivable. The place might have a rodent problem, too.” I say as she hits send.

“I know! I told her she could stay with me,” Love leans her head against my chest with a frustrated huff, slipping her phone onto the counter.

“You both already spend so many afternoons together,” I begin, sliding her head up to look at me. My fingers brush her cheek, and my next words come out hushed. “If she was around any more, I’d never have you to myself.”

Her eyes flutter as my hands brush baby hairs out of her face. I hum, and lean in for another kiss.

“Will,” she starts, pressing her palm into my chest. She pushes me back, and I let her. “I’m not in the mood right now. Is that alright?”

I purse my lips… a little agitated, but I understand. I’m in the mood, but I understand. She doesn’t want to have sex, she wants to talk about you.

“Of course, Love,” I kiss her cheek. “Some other time.”

With a smile, she returns her attention to those stupid brochures. I agree to whatever she wants, whatever she’s in the mood for. I always do.

Once dinner’s sorted, we pair it with a movie on my tv. We cuddle, and it’s nice. During an intimate scene, a quiet one with rustling bedsheets, Love decides to speak.

“I’m glad you’re getting along well with Y/N.” She says with a hum, rubbing her face into my chest. I grunt when her hand squeezes my knee. “She appreciates it too, I know it. She doesn’t know many people in the city anymore.”

I tear my eyes away from the sex on tv to look Love in the eyes.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I have that thing with Forty. Someone seems a little forgetful tonight” I laugh and apologize, scolding myself. Of course… Tomorrow. I did forget. She turns her attention back to the movie. When I reluctantly return my own attention to the screen, I can’t help but scrutinise everything I see. Love seems pleased, watching the protagonist and her girlfriend lounge after what felt like the most drawn-out fucking I’d ever witnessed on tv. She’s probably thinking to herself: what a nice couple, happy, in love, and all tuckered out. But I feel differently. I see something I’m missing. We could be them, Love and I. But, instead of being wrapped in each other with more to do than to SAY, I think about the brick phone, I think about the lunch dates, I think about the selfishness of only reaching out when things became convenient, and I think about YOU. I think about the rust on your door, think about your dead mom, I think about how Love wants me to help you pack her things – like I’m some tool to be borrowed and Love’s the kind neighbour willing to lend – and I think about how Love touches you and I can’t help but wish I could crawl into your skin and rip you up from the inside.

The bell on your bag rings in my ears, jingling as you tap it over, and over again. Should I feel threatened by you? Because I do, even when everything about you proves to me you’re no threat at all. You’re meek, small, pathetic. Despite it all, you’ve stepped into my yard, trampled the very bushes I’ve trimmed and watered to perfection, and made yourself cozy against the love of my life. And, like a call to battle, the bell stirs something in me.

But you’re innocent, I cry in my head. You’re not Peach. You’re no evil mastermind, and stepping into someone else’s yard doesn’t mean much when you’re a helpless rabbit. Your mom is dead, you’re grieving. I think about you, in my car, curled in on yourself, skin exposed. Scared. I grit my teeth at the thought.

When Love departs, just after the movie ends, I spend some time catching up on your messages. That’s all I can really do, actually. With such an old model, your system doesn’t allow access to anything, anywhere, anytime. Just the text messages. I scroll to find your mention of me dropping by earlier.

‘Left my phone in Will’s car. He dropped it off.’

‘He’s the best <3’ Love responded.

About twenty minutes after that, Love let you know I’m replacing her tomorrow.

‘We can reschedule.’ You tried, but Love tells you the plans are already made. You can’t run from this. Neither can I.

I recline on my couch, huffing as I read as far as your messages go. I couldn’t get the older logs but anything you send from here on out, I have access to. When the late hours of the night finally catch up to me, I look out my window at the flickering street lights, and I head to bed.

[monbons]

Stitches and Sentences Roundup 2024

Thanks for the tags on your writing round ups @run-for-chamo-miles, @drowninginships, and @emeryhall! I just got back from a weeklong trip and instead of doing laundry, I'm joining in on the roundup fun.

FIC I moved from lurker to active fandom participant this year with a bang. I posted my first fic ever for EGF and have basically been writing or posting non-stop since then. I wrote/co-wrote 5 fics this year and clocked in at 101, 725 words.

Kill Em With Kindness - rated T, 6.5k, Watford-Era, getting together fic

When no one seems to care that Baz is sad, Simon steps in to help. The only reasonable explanation for all Simon's kindness is that he's trying to kill Baz, right? (My most popular fic as measured by kudos.)

Knock Your Socks Off - rated T, 4k, Watford-Era, 7th year fic

Baz steals Simon's socks. Simon blames the sock monster. Chaos ensues.

The Eternal Life of Baz Pitch - rated M, 42k, Addie LaRue AU, a truly epic romance

Told in two alternating timelines that span from 1700s Hampshire all the way to early 2000's Washington, DC, this fic follows Baz as he spends centuries searching for the love of all his lives. (This was the fic that convinced me I could write long and holds a very special place in my heart. Is it angsty? Yes. Is it some of the most beautiful prose I've ever written? Also yes.)

The Boy Next Door - rated M, 47k, and they were neighbors AU, a coming of age romance

When Simon moves in with his gran, he decides to befriend the mysterious boy next door. He changes both their lives in the process. (My most popular fic by literally every other measure.)

The Reason for The Season - rated T, 1.6k, text fic, co-written with @thewholelemon

Dev and Niall make a list. Holiday hijinks abound. (A bday gift for @mooncello)

ART I do not currently have a great way to track my dolls and searched my Instagram to do the math, only to realize I hadn't posted every doll I made either! (If anyone has a good art tracking system, I'm open to ideas.) If my count is correct, I clocked in at a grand total of 35 dolls this year, including:

10 Simons

15 Bazzes

2 Pennys

2 Nialls

2 Devs

1 Mage

1 Fiona

1 Agatha

1 Shep

The picture below shows my earliest dolls, where I was still experimenting with style and form. As you can see, many of them are quite flat. (Fun fact: All of these dolls--including their clothing--were made before I owned a sewing machine.)

Going 3D was actually an accident, but we have the Watford Baz and Simon below to thank for it! After committing to 3D dolls, I kept evolving my pattern---improving joints, proportions, and adding details like ears!---until we reached my most current iterations.

Now every doll has their own special pattern that takes into account their canon proportions, where available. Notice Baz is tall and slender where Simon is extra fluffy!

I did not include any of the dolls I created for COC 2024 since I assume everyone has seen them already, but I linked the master post in case you missed a day.

Finally, in addition to dolls, I also created 2 plushies (a merwolf and a bunbaz) plus 12 finger puppets this year.

It's hard to quantify dolls like fics, especially since almost every doll before COC did not have a dedicated tumblr post. However, here are some fun art stats:

Most Popular Art Post: The Watford Map

Most Popular Doll: FIONA!

Second Most Popular Doll: Felt Smut (Look @emeryhall! Dragonboy Simon is indeed the sexiest given that this is my duplicate of your doll!)

I also had three art collaborations this year:

Baz and The Prophecy - Doll and Tapestry, a COTTA collaboration with @iamamythologicalcreature

Ballet Baz and Disco Simon - a CORB collaboration with @melodysmash (Read the fic she wrote--Body Language. It is as adorable as these dolls!)

Watford Advent Map - a tapestry made for COC 2024 with help from @rimeswithpurple

While it has definitely been a fabulously productive year, I think my greatest achievement has been all the new friendships I've fostered because of fandom. Y'all bring me so much joy, and I am so happy I found this little corner of the internet.

I am currently drained of all creative energy (I can't imagine why!), so you may not hear from me for a while. However, I promise I am still around---likely catching up on all the fic and art I've missed while being a literal word and doll factory. With all that said, if you have an idea and wanna collab in the new year, I'm all ears and tons of fun!

Hellos and high-fives for the last time in 2024! @alexalexinii, @argumentativeantitheticalg, @aristocratic-otter, @arthurkko, @artsyunderstudy

@best--dress, @blackberrysummerblog, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @bookish-bogwitch, @confused-bi-queer

@cutestkilla, @emeryhall, @facewithoutheart, @harrie-leithillustration, @hushed-chorus

@ic3que3n, @ileadacharmedlife, @katatsumuli, @larkral, @letraspal

@martsonmars, @messofthejess, @mooncello, @noblecorgi, @orange-peony

@raenestee, @rbkzz, @roomwithanopenfire, @shrekgogurt, @skeedelvee

@stitchyqueer, @supercutedinosaurs, @talentpiper11, @twinkle-twinkle-up-above, @theimpossibledemon

@valeffelees, @whatevertheweather, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold

[festiveferret]

Wipdate!

Well. It's been like three years since I've done one of these, hahaha, but I've been missing fandom life so I thought it'd be fun to share an update of where I'm sitting. Toddlers manage to take like 140% of your time and energy, even though they sleep a lot, so I've mostly just been parenting, but I've been getting the writing bug lately, so there's very slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

Basically, I have a list of fics I want to make sure I finish. They're the ones it would break my heart to look back on twenty years from now and realize I put all that time and those words into something that never got shared. I haven't been having new ideas very much, so I'm putting all my creative energy into things I've either promised to other people or to myself.

I'm not going to list everything I've posted since my last wipdate, since that was a looong time ago and you can always sort my works page chronologically! But here's the latest ones...

Posted:

Do Not Reply  - Tony replies to a Do Not Reply email address thinking he's shouting into the void. Spoiler alert: he's not. Runaway Train - Preserum Steve and Prince Tony meet cute. Entwined - The aftermath of Ults Stony being magically soulbound and then separated. Lost and Found - Winteriron - Bucky finds a lost dog. Vacation Days - SHIELD needs Steve to take his PTO Sanguinary Revelations - Tony and Steve go on a date with a twist Kindly Calm Me Down - Ults Steve knows how to calm his Tony down after a mission First Christmas - Stony's first xmas as parents Even of My Secret Soul - Secret soulmates

Updating:

Second Chance Summer - Stony with a 20yr age gap. Pre-written and posting on Saturdays. Up to chapter eight. A Good Thing - Comic collab with Askafroa - Alpha!Tony and Omega!Therapist!Steve - almost done! Yet I Will Try the Last - Truck Stop Hooker AU with hooker!Steve and flashy billionaire, Tony Stark. Up to chapter four! (I swear I haven't given up on this) Held Remix - A rewrite of Held with Tony as the sub and Steve as the Dom. Up to chapter twenty-nine. Ashy and I are making a point of getting our chaptered version of Held edited and posted, and then we're cracking on with Remix. We may or may not do both seasons, but we're at least going to finish out S1.

Beta Queue:

Bro Code -  This is one of my 2023 MTH fics Rented Family - I started this one in like 2019 and finally finished it. It's a no-powers Ults AU where Tony is dying of his (canon!) brain cancer and Steve is a security specialist/bodyguard who Tony hires to be around while he dies. Yay for finishing old wips!

Wips:

This wiplist is basically just going to be my list of "I'll be sad if I never finish them" fics I mentioned above. I have no plans to stop writing fic entirely, but I'm definitely slowing down, and I want to focus on the stuff that will feel really good to have done so I don't ever leave myself or you guys hanging!

1) Held edit (the chaptered repost) and Held Remix (at least S1). @ashes0909 and I are picking away at it, but between three kids, two jobs, and two timezones, it's slow af. But we'll get there.

2) My other 2023 MTH fic, older professor Tony and young flirty student Steve for @sabrecmc pod bid. It's maybe a third done.

3) My contribution to the Stony Dating Sim game from MTH 2024 (I'm doing Ults Tony as a love interest. If you want to know more, check out @stevetonydatingsim).

4) My Stony Twilight AU. I posted a snippet of it here a long time ago and I've been picking at it ever since. It's at 33k and probably about halfway done.

5) Fangbait 3. My Fangbait series was always intended to have three parts. Two are up already. The third was on hiatus for a long time, but I just abruptly wrote 80% of it last night, so once I get the sex scenes (and a title oh no) done, she'll be good to go!

6) Yet I Will Try the Last has been waiting for waaay too long for an update and I feel really bad about it. It was the one time I experimented with posting an unfinished WIP (mostly because it started as a oneshot and then I started adding to it) and I regretti spaghetti every day that I did that lol. I. Have. Not. Given. Up. I have the outline for the rest, I know what I want to do, I just need to do it.

7) Brooklyn is a canon divergence from right after Avengers 2012 where Stony travels on a modified quinjet together, cleaning up the chitauri weapon's market. It's maybe a third to a half done? Another one I started a loooong time ago and never got my steam back with, but I would really like to. I really like that one.

8) A Venom/Eddie fic from right after the first movie. It's not too long and it's probably also about halfway done, so I believe in myself. It's called Parasite.

9) A collab started a few years ago that I'm not going to out here in case my collab partner doesn't want to do it anymore, but we did a fair bit of it so I'd love to get it done.

Writing comes in little spurts, but I have to pick and choose between my hobbies now, so I just have less time and energy to spend on one thing. I've been trying to read more to fuel the words! I also have OG stuff I'm working on, but that's just as slow as the other stuff lol. I miss you guys! Hope y'all are doing well. (Happy Easter if you celebrate!)

Thanks as always for reading! <3

[bleue-flora]

yeah I think even though c!Tommy had a lot of visitors in exile, its all undermined because he still felt lonely and c!Dream had told him that people were only visiting him to see the place and encouraged c!Tommy to see the gifts as pity gifts but its a nice comparison you made regardless I think comparing the physical torment both faced it would be interesting, c!tommys was more spaced out and emotional based + the hits he took from cdreams weapons, c!dreams was daily and more extreme

[context]

{wrote this answer awhile ago, and was going to add to it a comparison of Exile and prison emotional and physical abuse data but due to recent events I’m finding it hard to watch exile streams so that analysis has been put on hold, but figured I could still post this answer.}

Look I'm not saying Dream isn't a good manipulator, because he certainly is, but from Day 1 even before Dream shows up to visit, Tommy is already moping and calling people's gifts pity gifts and stuff (like in that post the clip of Bad happens before Dream shows up for the first time). In fact, the more I rewatch Exile the more I wonder what would have happened if it had been someone else in Tommy's shoes? Would the situation seem as screwed up if the person was more resistant to the abuse and not falling apart on their own. Is that why there are people who see Dream as deserving of prison, and Exile as more emotionally damaging? I don't know, it's just a thought, is it Dream’s nonchalance that cuts into people's pity and empathy?...

It's actually something I've thought about a lot in the last year, because there is almost always something going wrong in my life and so I've kinda adapted this "is what it is" "this is fine" "I tried what more can I do" attitude of letting things roll off and just dealing with it and turning it into a funny story (sometimes you gotta laugh to keep from crying). It was actually highlighted a few weeks ago when my coworker was trying to stress to me how awful and cold it would be if my heat were to go out this winter. And I was like - "I am beyond aware, I lost my heat, hot water, and internet during a snow storm last year so I know exactly how miserable it is." and her face was just like 'oh... right' as if my anxiety and the words I'd been saying all week finally dawned on her. As if the lighthearted nature and attitude in which I shared those facts before undid the gravity of them.

It’s actually something I really noticed this summer when my sister-in-law was in a car accident and got a concussion. My parents were reasonably worried and like offering to come up and if they need to bring my brother and her food and stuff, and it caught me by surprise in a weird way. Not because I don't think she (and my brother) didn't deserve or need the help and sympathy, but because less than a year and a half ago, after spending a week with covid in an apartment with broken air conditioning during heat advisory, I end up fainting while coming out of the shower as I was getting ready to finally go back to work... The crazy person I am, I was bleeding and still the thought in my mind was - 'I'll just stick a bandaid on it’ (I ended up with 7 stitches lol)... Anyways, long story short despite my concussion I pushed on through my second to last semester of engineering courses and hell even made Dean's List despite my struggling short memory, which might be one of my proudest achievements to be honest. And in hindsight as I observed people's care and concern for my sister-in-law and them asking if she needs to leave the room for the quiet and how long is she taking off work... etc, I realized just how kinda screwed up it was that I had to handle everything by myself. That no one was there to tell me to not use a screen right after getting a concussion and how I definitely should not have been tutoring or doing school the week after. I did it all by myself and pushed through, and I realized that I think because I didn't make it a big deal, it became not a big deal for them. Because I laughed about it and tell the story in a comical way, people don’t seem to understand just how hard it was. As if a concussion in itself isn’t terrible, period.

In the same way, Torture is terrible, period. Dream shouldn’t have to be pathetic for that fact to be true. He shouldn’t have to be broken, or say “yes sir,” we shouldn’t need any evidence but that fact alone. (Now obviously within the dsmp Minecraft medium it’s a little different but hopefully you get the point). The torture isn’t any less horrible if the character reacts by becoming submissive or fighting back. Torture isn’t any less horrible because of who it is on (something Dream tries to highlight to Sam in Daedalus). Torture is bad. It doesn’t matter if the reason was good or not, it doesn’t matter if the victim shows how hurt they are or not. And yet, those facts change our perception of it. It is different to know someone was tortured than it is to see them having a panic attack afterwards or their scars.

So then, would characters and we the audience still think Exile is as bad as it was if the person who was exiled didn’t react the same. If their clothes weren’t falling apart. If they weren’t moping around and complaining. If the facts were the exact same, but the attitude of the character was different, how would it change how we saw Exile? Would we still see Exile as even comparable on any scale to Prison? If we saw all 82 of Quackity’s visits how would it change our perception? If Dream was too scared to hold an axe during jailbreak or if he cried in Punz’s arms right after, if he didn’t show such apathy when telling Sapnap or Foolish or Tommy about the torture, would it change how those characters felt about it? If Dream’s skin had clothes that we saw slowly deteriorating everytime we saw him in prison how would that change how we saw it? Or if Tommy’s clothes hadn’t changed, how would that change how we saw Exile?… yes Exile was horrible, and yes it was abuse and screwed up. But also, is part of why we see it as this big horrible thing because of Tommy’s reaction to it. That’s not to say it wasn’t horrible or I’m trying to minimize the abuse, but also lots of horrible things happen on the dsmp. I mean Fundy committed suicide and I don’t see people getting as upset at Wilbur as they do Dream for Tommy’s almost suicide.

I don’t know, it’s just something I’ve been thinking about. If Dream’s attitude to being tortured changed how characters and we saw it, and if in the same way, Tommy’s attitude changed how we saw Exile. If the roles were reversed or someone else was in Tommy’s place, (whether or not they are actually comparable), would anyone think they are even comparable in any aspect?

Sapnap: “What do you mean he was torturing you? Like literally torturing you?”

[ranaissingle]

Whispers and Melodies (Pt. 2)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: She has heard a deep melodic voice speaking to her from a faraway place for decades. Anything from snippets of a longer conversation to roars that shook the very earth she walked on.

Rating: T (For now)

Word Count:

A/N: This story is shaping up to be over 10 chapters so I am trying to queue up some chapters to post with some kind of regularity lol. I hope you enjoy this one! Also, I have created a tag list so comment below if you would like to be tagged in upcoming parts!

★──────────★─────────★

Past (Sometime before Amaranths's Rule UTM)

Rhysand sat at his office in Velaris pouring over mountains of paperwork that he had allowed to pile up right before starfall. He’d spent the better part of 3 days working through the aftermath of the holiday, and he sat now at his desk, he wished he had some type of escape or distraction from the mountain of work that always seemed to follow him. 

A melodic breeze seemed to enter from the window as the trees and winds intermingled before filtering their way through the large windows. The breeze carried notes that came in quick succession and seemed to echo off of each other. The soft feminine voice almost caressed Rhysand's cheek and winded itself around him in a blanket of warmth. He hadn't realized how cold he was until that very moment. His back and arms slowly untensed themselves as he relaxed further into his chaise and as soon as Rhysand felt like he could finally go to sleep, the voice seemed to fade back out the window and only left Rhysand craving more. 

Page break and POV switch (Same time period)

Y/N sat out enjoying the weather amid the hot summer. She had laid out various fruits, bread, and spreads to snack on while she read and hummed away her evening basking in the sun. The wind carried a gentle breeze and various little creatures scurried their way across the grove. All at once, it seemed like the ambient noise around her had become muffled. As if someone had placed a pillow over her ears. Slowly, a voice from the outside seemed to filter through whatever was muffling her hearing. It was laughter. Booming laughter made some deep unknown emotion bubble up inside her. Something that made her heart ache most deliciously. A small smile crept upon her face as she looked out into the distance the first to find where the sound had been emitting from. Nothing but trees and willowing branches blew in the wind, not a soul in sight. The laughter slowly fizzled out as if the sound was creeping back into the forest from whence it came. The retreat left her feeling cold as if a winter breeze had made its way to her from the winter court. 

Rhysand slowly pulled open the door to the room he had been occupying and stepped outside the threshold of the door. As the hinges creaked, the woman’s chopping ceased as she placed her knife on the cutting board before wiping her hands on her apron and turning around. Rhysand strengthened his stance even as the muscles of his thighs burned with the strain. 

“Who are you and how did I get here.” Rhysand’s voice came out firmer than he had thought himself capable of. The woman narrowed her eyes at him and cocked her head to the side.  

“I found you passed out on the beach. You are quite lucky the tides did not pull you into the depths before.” 

Her lips quirked up at the idea as if she was thinking about that very outcome. Rhysand squared his shoulders and steeled himself further. He couldn't be sure that this woman did not have evil intentions. If there was anything he had learned in his 500 years of life, it was that he should never underestimate an opponent just because they were a female. 

“Why would you help me then? Is there something you want in return?” 

Rhysand was grateful enough for the help that she had provided that he was willing to give her something in return. The female rested all of her weight on one leg as she turned her eyes up to the roof and began to contemplate what she would want. She was likely going to ask for a pile of gold or a new cottage of some sort. She looked like she had run through a million possible answers to his question when all at once her eyes widened and her posture stiffened as she blurted out; 

“Waterdrake scales! Could you get me water Waterdrake scales? A lot of them?” 

POV Switch To Y/N

Why did his voice sound so familiar? She swore she’d heard it before but couldn't

Y/n’s hand tightened on the side of the counter that she had been gripping with all of the mother’s strength. What ingredient could possibly stabilize the potion she was working on? She had tried every single combination of Honey possible but it always reduced the potency by some amount. She needed it to be as potent as possible in order to ensure its effectiveness. Firedrake scales were known to increase the shelf life of a potion, but that wasn’t exactly what she needed. She needed something to make sure that the reaction between the crawfish shell and fennel root did not take place and that their effects were enacted on the patient independently of their effects on one another. Could dragon bone work? No, that would just react with the fennel root and make the whole mixture useless. But waterdrake scales? Yes, those could work; it would keep the potion cool enough to prevent reaction while also having a cooling effect on the body when administered which would help with the fevers that often accompany blood loss. Yes, this was perfect! Before she could get any sort of reign on her excitement. 

Y/n blurted out, “Water drake scales! Could you get me waterdrake scales? A lot of them?”

POV Switch to Rhysand 

This female had gone insane. Water Drake scales were the rarest type of scales. Asking for them was equivalent to asking for something more valuable than the cauldron itself. Never mind that he was sure Velaris did indeed have Warwe drake scales, what could this female possibly need water Drake scales for? Rhysand lets his lips quirk up on one side as he takes in the female. 

“What would a spritely female like you need with water drake scales and how are you so sure that I could be the one to provide them for you?” Rhysnad crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down. 

Y/n rolled her eyes while she looked him up and down. “You carry yourself in a manner that befits whatever rank you possess.” She takes a deep breath before continuing,”I have seen a great many males like you, they traipse around as if they own the land they walk on, they trample over the plants and never leave a place the same as when they found it. Your kind is the reason our world will never have any semblance of peace for more than the time it takes to heave a breath.” 

“Oh? You have come to this conclusion after knowing me for all of 10 minutes have you?” 

“Not quite I think. You seem to be less…? Just less I suppose. I can’t exactly put my finger on it but you do not suck the air out of a room the way your brethren tend to. I’ve come to conclusions about your brethren, not necessarily you, it seems.” 

Although Rhysand still did not look pleased, he had already decided to acquiesce to her demands as soon as she had spoken it. He was grateful, after all, for her help in his recovery.  But, he was not going to fetch the scales by himself. If she wanted to get her hands on those scales she would have to contribute to the journey. 

“Alright, if you want the scales you shall have them. However, I am not going on this journey for the impossible by myself. I know where to find them so we can get started whenever you are ready. 

She smiles slightly before speaking. “I think that our journey might have to be held off a couple of days at least.”

Rhysand took the bait. “What, not up for the challenge?”

“No, I’m up for the challenge. You, however, are not.” The smirk on her face was undeniable and Rhysand felt a laugh make its way up his throat. The female was right he was not up to any kind of journey where he would be forced to sleep on the cold hard earth and eat whatever gruel he could salvage. All at once he felt the exhaustion flood him as his body realized he would not be traveling anytime soon. 

She seemed to notice this and anticipated Rhysand’s legs giving out under him before he realized he was getting closer and closer to the polished wood of the floor. She skillfully wrapped her arms around his torso and slowly lowered him to the ground. 

“We need to get you to bed. I already made breakfast so I’ll bring some to you as soon as you’re tucked in. 

Rhysand chuckled, “I’m not a child, gods, you’re more demanding than my brothers.” She cocked her hips to the side before placing her hands on her hips as she stared him down. Rhysands smile never left his face as he raised his palms in defeat and raised himself to his knees before turning on his heel and entering the room he had previously come out of. As the door clicked shut behind him, Rhysand stood in the middle of the cozy room. He hadn’t smiled in 50 years. The muscles felt strangely tight from lack of use. He knew he had to get back to Velaris as soon as possible; his family was probably wondering where he was. But, despite his best efforts he couldn't bring himself to winnow home. It was quite peaceful in this little cottage by the sea. Rhysand eventually sat on the bed and leaned back on his arms as he stared out of the large window across from the bed. It seems Amaranths's reign managed to evade this section of the fae kingdoms. 

Y/N rapped on the door 3 times before opening the door and walking inside. Rhysand smelt a fragrant aroma of ripened fruits and something else warm and minty. She walked up to the small wooden table next to the bed and placed a tray on it. 

“I’ve made you a fruit salad, bread and herbs, and tea. I would make you something more hearty but, considering how malnourished you were upon your arrival, I feel it’s best to start you off on some simpler foods.” Rhysand looked up at her, “Thank you for the meal.” She tilted her head to the side slightly and smiled. “Could I check your temperature?” She raised her hand up towards his forehead but kept her hand from actually touching him. He took the time to look up at her from where he sat on the bed. He nodded his head and waited as she brought the back of her hand to his forehead and placed her hand on her forehead as well. 

“You’re temperature is slightly above what is normal..” The frown on her face deepened as the gears in her mind began formulating some combination of herbs and elixirs to lower the fever. Rhysand kept his gaze on her as she started counting on one hand and mumbling soft indescribable words. Her eyes flicked down to his and she said,“ I’ll have to give you some ginger and chamomile to help lower your fever. ” Her touch felt cool on his warm forehead when he swore he felt his temperature lower a fraction. She then slowly brought her hands down to his neck before looking at him to ask for permission once more. Again, he slowly nodded his head and she pressed one of her delicate fingers against his skin. She removed her finger quickly and kept her gaze on that section of her neck. “It appears as if you are also dehydrated.” 

Her voice trailed off as she continued moving his head slightly. Curiosity overwhelmed him so Rhysand asked, “ You could have done all these tests while I was asleep, could you not?”. She smiled slightly at him as she removed her hands from his cheek and neck and placed them back in her lap. “I don’t think you would have wanted that.” Her gaze settled on him in a way that made shivers run up his already sore spine. Rhysand answered with his own poor excuse of a smirk.

“Eat up, I will start preparing the provisions for our journey and bring you some more water”. She turned to the door and softly clicked it shut behind her. 

Y/N did not expect that being so close to the man would have made her heart beat so fast. The hair on her arms stood up as she attempted to take deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She needed to get started on the preparation as well as figure out the dilemma of how she was going to replicate the properties of water drake scales without having to put them in every single batch of her remedy.  

Rhysand relaxed back into the bed cradling him and felt the tension in his muscles trickle out and gather underneath him in a pool of warmth. They wouldn't be going on a journey, he was sure Majda had some water drake scales stocked up and he planned to winnow them into Velaris as soon as he was better. But she didn't need to know that yet. He quite liked the tranquility of the little cottage on the sea and intended to stay here as long as she would permit him to. Funnily enough, he didn't care to go back home.

★──────────★─────────★

A/N: this had too many POV switches for my taste so I won't be doing that again lol I know it's been a while since I posted but I am trying to get back into the groove of things haha

TAGLIST: @nebarious

[blackberrysummerblog]

Hi all! I’m just out here being three weeks late with my 2024 Writing Round-Up, and thank you so much to @monbons, @forabeatofadrum, @confused-bi-queer, @rimeswithpurple, @nausikaaa, @prettygoododds, @ileadacharmedlife, @artsyunderstudy, @best--dress, @j-nipper-95, @roomwithanopenfire, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @imagineacoolusername, @mooncello, and @thewholelemon for tagging me! I hope I didn’t miss anyone, and thank you as well to everyone who’s been tagging me for Six Sentence Sunday and WIP Wednesday this month. Without getting too much into it, I am BURNT. OUT, and it’s making me retreat from even the things I enjoy the most, like writing and catching up on everyone’s beautiful fandom works.

But, I’m determined to make this round-up post, even if it takes me a couple of days to put together. There’s a lot here! Almost all of it was from COC, which I was hellbent on finishing this year, and did! Here’s the list, in chronological order, of all published writing for 2024:

The Field Trap, 1/2 (5272, M) This has been sitting unfinished for a bit, but I do anticipate it being completed. I discovered a real love for Watford-era fics toward the end of the past year, but it probably all began for me two years ago when I wrote Field Trip of Dreams, the prequel to Field Trap. At any rate, I haven’t forgotten the fic, and Field Trap may end up with an E rating in the second chapter.

Time Will Lie Down and Be Still (26,201, M) This is the fic I’m most proud of this year. It’s the result of my COBB collab with @rimeswithpurple, and it’s been such an inspiration to work with Arianna! I highly recommend the experience :D This fic has 3/5 chapters published so far, and I’m getting there with the 4th. I’ll share that Arianna finished the art for Chapter 4 the other day and it is STUNNING, so I need to get my part done! For anyone who doesn’t know, the fic is a retelling of the movie Practical Magic (I’ve never been able to get very far in the book, for whatever reason, so I wouldn’t count on the fic lining up with it). This one is close to my heart for many reasons, but I’ve especially enjoyed building Dev’s character and his relationship with Baz.

Absolutely everything else I published was for COC, and I’ll put it below a cut due to length. Thanks to everyone who read my work this year! As always, the output of this fandom is just incredible, and I’ve enjoyed being able to take it in as well as contribute a little myself. Happy New Year, everyone!

Something Old (1146, T) Simon finds something unexpected while clearing out space in the wardrobe.

Chosen (880, G) Agatha and Simon have just begun dating and Philippa attempts to engage her in a little friendly roommate squee. Agatha isn’t quite so sure.

I Hate You, Never Leave Me (2339, M) Simon and Baz have found a new and better way to settle their differences, by getting each other off all over campus. Will it evolve into anything more, however? (I love this one, honestly. Might have to someday write a more extensive version)

Greek (1565, T) Simon has to keep a very close eye on Baz in Greek class, for reasons.

Let Me See You (1205, T) Simon is the one to find Baz draining a deer in the forest instead of Agatha. His reaction is not what either of them was expecting.

Truth or Dare (2608, T) Does what it says on the tin—the gang play a game of Truth or Dare, and the dares reveal a little more truth than anyone expected. (Definitely not a groundbreaking take on the prompt, but I never really tire of reading truth or dare fics, and hoped readers would feel the same :P)

Gently, Gently (668, M) Simon and Baz spend the morning in bed, skiving off class and not regretting it at all. (I came to realize that an embarrassing number of fics I write either start out with the boys waking up in bed or that is the entire premise of the fic. “Waking up” is a weird fetish to have, but OK me, I guess)

Looking for Knives, Looking for You (1181, T) Baz reflects on all the wounds he and Simon have given each other over the years. (Despite the vicious sounding title and depressing summary, this one was meant to be sort of cute and sweet)

Hold You Safe (1015, G) At the start of Eighth Year, Dev and Niall’s relationship is still very new as they get some bad news from home.

Dinner (Guess Who’s Coming) (3525, T) It’s half term, and Baz’s parents want to take him to dinner. They invite him to bring a friend, but unfortunately for Malcolm, he pisses Baz off first, and Baz decides his guest will be Simon—the Mage’s heir, his family’s mortal enemy, and Baz’s undying secret crush. (As with nearly all my COC offerings this year, this fic was knocked out during my lunch break the day of, and it shows. It really could have stood to be longer and more developed, so maybe I’ll revisit it one day, since I did like the premise)

Stay with Me (878, T) It’s Eighth Year and Simon gets home late and injured from a mission. Baz arrives at a resolution. (I was a little baffled to get a comment about the Mage already being dead, since this fic takes place during the school year and makes mention of a very much alive Mage in multiple places. It was more of a statement than a criticism though, I think.)

A Charmed Life (1449, E) Baz and Simon have an utterly normal morning getting frisky in bed. (Again. Huh.)

A Horse Named Jane (736, T) Simon has that song stuck in his head again. The one Baz can’t stand. They work out a (sort of) compromise.

Sour and Sweet (3060, G) It’s Baz’s birthday and Agatha has just given Simon his walking papers. Oh no :P However, the breakup does little to lift Baz’s spirits. (This one has two chapters and filled two prompts, sour and sweet, natch. Chapter two’s summary is: Simon decides he needs to make something sweet for Baz’s birthday, even though he’s two days late and doesn’t know how to bake. Well, he’s got magic at his disposal, so things are sure to turn out just fine. :P)

Punk (828, T) Baz is making Simon join him for lunch with Fiona again, but Simon figures he’ll debut a new look & attitude. Will they actually make it to the restaurant? (I really enjoyed writing this one. Simon being frustrated with Fiona’s behavior and still being silly with Baz about it was just a happy place for me)

Surprise (733, M) Simon and Baz are engaging in one of their classic Mummers’ House tiffs. What will happen? :P (I did write a little surprise into this one, but it was very much in keeping with some of my favorite themes)

Cast in Fire (791, G) Simon comes to Watford and learns about how his roommate will be chosen.

Fluff and Nonsense (1627, T) The prompt is ‘fluff’ and did I once again take the opportunity to write a light-on-plot secret relationship fic about Watford-era Simon and Baz being cozy and silly in bed? Yeah, I might have. Simon is going home with Baz over the Christmas break. Not a lot going on here, they’re just really comfy and in love.

Pieces of Me (1557, M) Baz has been having nightmares. Simon comforts him and encourages him to open up.

The World Was Open (956, T) Agatha and Niamh attend Simon and Baz’s wedding, and Agatha overhears another guest making a snide remark.

Find Me (2374, M) Eighth year at Watford was unremarkable, and Simon and Baz last saw each other when they graduated. Seven months later, Dev and Niall drag a pining and protesting Baz out to a club for a night of drinking and dancing, but there’s a familiar face behind the bar. Simon Snow is serving drinks, and worse, he’s flirting with a Baz lookalike. What will happen :P (This was yet another fic that could have been developed a little more, but I was still happy with the result overall)

Warm Spell (1795, M) Goatherd Simon has been almost-encountering a beautiful stranger for several weeks now, but one hot summer day, they finally meet.

Lost and Found (575, G) The boys go shopping together and Baz temporarily loses Simon, but it’s all pretty plot-free :P

Truce (1101, M) Simon pesters Baz while he’s trying to study, and needs to learn a lesson. Will they be able to call a truce? (This one was where the trouble began—I changed my settings to allow comments from unregistered users, because I like to fuck around and find out, I suppose. And find out I did! Luckily, the rude comment I received took aim at some writing element that didn’t even make sense for this particular fic, and I quickly realized it was a bot. Not long after, I started getting comments on other fics as well, all very nonspecific to the fandom, characters, and genre. I’m so sorry because I know it upset a few readers who were very kind to clap back and reassure me, and I changed my settings back so that it wouldn’t happen again.)

Savour (1189, T) Simon has been away on one of his missions for the Mage, and Baz has been awaiting his return by leaving out plates of food in their room every night. (Bot’s review: “the worst fic in the fandom”. It’s not even the worst fic in my own oeuvre, so joke’s on you, guy XD)

We Were Always Together (2239, T) During cotillion class, Simon is forced to dance with Baz. The horror! (I flipping loved writing this. Full on had a blast and Would Write Again)

Let It Snow (925, M) It’s almost time for Christmas break at Watford, and it may not turn out as the boys planned. However, thanks to a spell gone wrong (or very right) it may yet work out for the best :P

Always (551, G) It’s Christmas Eve and Baz has just finished putting the kids to bed. Simon is putting the finishing touches on the Christmas tree.

Something New (990, T) Simon and Baz have a little tiff near the end of eighth year, but it’s not fated to last long. I’ve written a lot of secret!relationship Watford era fics for COC this year, some that could go together and some that were in separate universes. It’s been so much fun to write about the boys sneaking around, but this is…something new. :P (In which I was very pleased with myself for how I wrapped things up in accordance with the prompt. I really, really enjoyed COC this year :D)

Thanks for reading! I’m sure most everyone has already made their own round-up posts, but consider these no-pressure tags and hellos: @valeffelees @stardustasincocaine @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @c0nsumemy5oul @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists @tender-ministrations @basiltonbutliketheherb @ghostpepperworld @larkral @letraspal @cows4247 @fiend-for-culture @palimpsessed @hushed-chorus @shrekgogurt @raenestee @cutestkilla @drowninginships @youarenevertooold @iamamythologicalcreature @beastmonstertitan @ic3-que3n @supercutedinosaurs @stitchy-queerista @alexalexinii @asocialpessimist @shutup-andletme-go @prettygoododds @ivelovedhimthroughworse @j-nipper-95 @wellbelesbian @bookishbroadwayandblind @orange-peony @papierhaikuphoto @martsonmars

[ladykailitha]

Howlin' for Yule

Hello and welcome to my Christmas AUvent Calendar! Every day from now until the 24th I will be posting a ficlet that is 500-1500 from an AU I've done over the years.

All stories will be marked with the tag #12 aus of christmas so you can follow along as I will only be tagging my permanent list for this (it would get too confusing otherwise).

The next one on our list is: Werewolf verse. You can read the story here. All links will be to the first chapter, but the chapter itself will have links to the rest of the story.

Do you know how ridiculously proud I am of that title? Do you? Because I am so damn proud of that title. Also welcome to the one that got away from me. I could have kept it short. They dance, they schmooze, and they go home.

But I wanted to write more with this one and when I realized if I wanted this to end on the 24th, I should have started on the 13th, instead of the 12th, I figured I could extend this and post it Christmas Eve.

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9

~

Eddie stood in front of a mirror and fussed with his tie. He usually got a chuckle from seeing his reflection in a mirror because according to Wayne that one only became a myth recently with them no longer using silver to back them anymore. But not even that thought could bring a smile to his face.

Because he had to look super nice for his boyfriend’s big Yule Tide ‘do up at the new vampire coven’s place. After the Creel house had almost burnt down when Jason attacked, Chrissy thought it would be better to move the coven somewhere safer. Closer to civilization so that if that happened again, they could get help faster.

They had bought a beautiful mansion in Loch Nora that was able to house all the remaining members of the coven comfortably. It even had a large room just for balls. Which is what this most certainly was.

When Chrissy suggested it back in October, she had merely suggested party including the vampires and werewolves as a way to foster peace between them. But Steve, the beautiful big brained and even bigger hearted had suggested a Yule Ball for all the supernatural beings in Hawkins.

So that meant that all Eddie’s friends were going to be there and he had to look nice.

“You look like you’re going to a funeral,” Wayne groused from behind him. “Probably your own judging from the sour expression on his face.

Eddie whirled around in shock. Wayne was standing there in early 18th century clothes in golds and browns. He looked amazing. “Why can’t I look like that?!”

Wayne looked down at his attire and then back up. “Would you like to?”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “I mean we really don’t have much time to make me something like that.” He waved at Wayne’s outfit. “Because I don’t think your clothes will fit me very well.”

Wayne chuckled. “Oh ye of little faith. You take that monkey suit off, and I’ll play fairy goduncle. Go on.”

Eddie raised a questioning eyebrow but did as he was told. He hadn’t been gone two scant minutes when he came back and all the clothes were laid out on his bed. Silks, velvet, and lace all in black. He would cut a dashing figure for sure.

He hurried to get dressed and then rushed out to the front to the kitchen and poured out a bowl of milk, placing it on the windowsill.

Wayne chuckled from the living room. “She owed me a favor, but I’m sure she will appreciate the treat anyway.”

Eddie shook his head. “It’s just good manners.”

Wayne nodded solemnly. He had raised this boy right. Not just in the ways of the supernatural, but in the ways of being a good human, too.

Then the sound of horses arriving, clattered outside their window and they both exited the trailer to see an elegant coach and four black horses.

“Your boy sure has a flare for the dramatic,” Wayne huffed as he was helped into the carriage by an actual footman. Something that Wayne had never experienced in his long life.

Eddie could only agree. In the last light of the shortest day of the year, the driver and footman seemed to glimmer as though they had a glamour placed over them to look vaguely human.

They pulled up to the coven’s new home and Eddie let out a wolf whistle. “The new Dominus seems to have her own flare for the dramatic.”

“Nah,” Wayne said as he exited the carriage, “that just comes from being a vampire.”

They were shown into what Eddie could only call a ballroom. It was massive. It was currently setup with long mahogany tables with little nameplates in front of every placement. The eating utensils were gold, the glasses were crystal, and plates were fine china.

It screamed opulence and once Eddie would have turned tail and ran. But not anymore. Being a vampire changed that, for sure, but what really cinched the deal was the man, standing next to the Dominus in a beautiful red and gold outfit similar to what Wayne and Eddie were wearing.

Steve Harrington, Roane Pack Alpha.

~

Day 11 Day 12

NOW WITH PART TWO!

I could have waited until the 23rd to post this one, but there was something symbolic about posting it on the day of the winter solstice. The longest night.

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[brucebocchi]

Ranking 2024 anime, Pt. 2: #40-31

hey, this post is also available on my ko-fi, so please check it out and consider tipping/donating as i do this for free and am currently between jobs. you can find part 1 of the list here. thanks!

Alright, on we go to the list proper. The first post was probably whiplash-inducing, going from a bunch of shorter stuff I loved to whole seasons I hated, but we can only go up from here. I watched a lot of anime this year, as the numbers indicate, so there's a little positivity to be found even in the lower rankings.

As always, OPs are linked in the series titles. Watch them, they're almost all great.

40. Metallic Rouge

One of the biggest disappointments of the year, one which I didn’t think could be outdone (and I’ll get to that one shortly). Metallic Rouge had so much going for it as a Studio Bones original for its anniversary, and managed to fumble all of its promise and goodwill in slow, agonizing fashion. 

It’s a shame, too. Metallic Rouge still looks awesome; the character and mech designs are excellent, the space-cyberpunk aesthetic is undeniable, and the animation can be terrific when it counts. The story, on the other hand, is so completely asinine that I was sick of this show before it ended. I’ve mostly forgotten what even happens, partly because it was that infuriating to keep up with, and partly because I feel like the writers forgot too; the bulk of any actual story felt backloaded into the last two or three episodes because they focused too hard on vibes for a while. I think they were trying to go for some “G-Witch by way of Detroit: Become Human” something or other, but all of it rang hollow. I’m still not sure whether it needed more runtime or better writers. Probably both.

Not worth your time. Just watch the OP and imagine a better show than what we got.

39. Mysterious Disappearances

I’ve thought so little about this show since it went off the air that I don’t really have anything new to say. Looks pretty lousy most of the time, not that interesting, oddly horny, and the plot structure gets kind of cloying after a while.

I know I harped on that last point when I reviewed it at the end of the spring season, but something funny happened after I did. Back in July, I mentioned that I took issue with the formula of “we encounter a paranormal anomaly, it’s identified as a yokai or urban legend, we learn its tragic backstory, our protagonists give it closure, and we move on” because it felt manipulative after I realized that it happened with every arc, and then I went ahead and read DanDaDan, which basically does exactly the same thing but a hell of a lot better. Comparing a middling work like this to DanDaDan of all things feels unfair, but they cover pretty similar ground. Maybe it’s sharper writing, or maybe it’s just a more engaging work. Who’s to say?

I’d also said in my review that Mysterious Disappearances unintentionally gives off the vibe of a poorly-archived mid-2000s series, but I hadn’t realized just how right I was: It turns out that studio Zero-G just went ahead and made up its own ending even though the source material is still ongoing. Better shows did the same this year, but the studio and I seem to have the same level of faith that this anime’s ever coming back.

38. My Deer Friend Nokotan

Honestly? Fuck this show.

I’ve already gone into what I did and didn’t like about Nokotan after it went off air a few months ago and I don’t care to revisit that while it’s still relatively fresh. Not nearly as funny as it pretended to be, yet still not even confident in its own sense of humor. The OP's still a bop (calling it "Shikairo Days" was a genuinely great joke), and a small handful of gags do land, but not enough to prevent this from being a massive disappointment.  At the same time, Nokotan was still somehow not the biggest letdown of the year.

37. Uzumaki

This was the biggest letdown of the year.

When an anime adaptation of the legendary Junji Ito horror manga was first announced in 2019, it was hard not to get excited. Even when I’d mostly fallen out of anime fandom, I knew damn well who Junji Ito was and I knew Uzumaki. Adult Swim was funding the project, a prestige studio in Production I.G. was handling the animation, and they even nabbed Hereditary composer Colin Stetson for the score. Ito’s manga is famously very difficult to adapt well, and it looked like we finally had a project being taken seriously. Delays and radio silence in the ensuing years were disappointing, but I was willing to be patient if it meant everything was being handled right. When the trailer dropped this summer, it looked like it would be worth the wait.

And for one glorious episode, it seemed like everyone’s patience paid off. Uzumaki’s debut episode was one of the most visually arresting pieces of animation I’ve ever seen: The entire look and feel was faithful to Ito’s inimitable style, from the meticulously detailed linework to the stark black-and-white color grading of his manga’s pages. On top of that, the animation itself was absurdly good; the process of rotoscoping 3D motion capture seemed arduous, but the end result was beautifully lifelike for a story where that quality could only serve to instill further terror. Several of the most iconic images from the early chapters looked incredible in hi-def motion. Sure, the pacing was a little fast, but this was a four-episode miniseries. We could deal. This was just too good.

And then came the second episode.

I’m not going to over-elaborate or relitigate every single thing that went wrong here, because it’s a lot. Uzumaki was in development for a long time, and that five year gap between announcement and release included several detriments to the production process, not the least of which being COVID, animation production changing hands between several studios, and new leadership for Adult Swim’s parent company that now favors profit over product, especially when it comes to animation that doesn’t involve DC characters. Plenty of us figured that all of these delays and a run of only four episodes meant that they had the time to hammer out all the issues and give us the best possible product. That, unfortunately, was not the case.

Responding to complaints about the decline in animation in the second episode, executive producer Jason DeMarco (who, to be blunt, has overseen several mediocre-to-awful anime products released under the Adult Swim brand, including my bottom-ranked anime of 2023) claimed in a quickly-deleted Bluesky thread that there is indeed a higher-up to blame and that they were left with an ultimatum to either drop Uzumaki after just one episode, let it go the way of so many other Warner Bros non-releases under David Zaslav’s disastrous leadership, or release the whole miniseries in its half-baked state. They went with the third.

So, what we got was an uneven, often sloppy work; another mediocrity to throw on the pile of failed Junji Ito adaptations. All goodwill established in the first episode is soon undone by wonky character models, uncanny walk cycles, and movement that looks like PNGs being dragged across a background at the most inopportune times. Plenty of viewers, myself included, were willing to overlook the accelerated pacing after the first episode, but that issue was thrown into stark relief by the second when entire chapters of the manga began playing out simultaneously, and one was even reduced to an afterthought for a cheap “scare” at the end of episode three. 

Not that I thought Uzumaki necessarily needed a full 12-episode season for a proper adaptation or anything; Ito’s output can often be light on story, and dragging it out too far risks losing interest. What makes Ito’s stories actually work, though, is a proper sense of setting and space to let tensions rise. That didn’t entirely happen here; while the atmosphere of Kurozu-cho does plenty resemble what we’ve seen from Ito’s pages, and Stetson’s atonal saxophone does a lot of work to raise the level of unease, things just kind of happen. Few things really get the chance to land as intended, in part due to the production quality cheaping out at climactic moments.

This was the last anime I finished this year even though I’d watched the first two episodes after they aired and it went off the air in October. I was looking forward to the last two episodes that little. There are still bits and pieces of great animation and faithful adaptation here and there, but not enough to regain any goodwill from the second episode’s wheels visibly falling off. Maybe it’s finally time to declare Junji Ito’s works unadaptable once and for all. 

Definitely watch that first episode, though. At this point I kind of wish that’s all we’d gotten.

36. Hokkaido Gals Are Super Adorable!

Straitlaced Nice Guy moves to a new town, laid-back gyaru from his class immediately takes a liking to him, a couple other girls enter the picture, shenanigans ensue, and a slow-burn romance begins in parallel. Nothing special on paper and nothing much more special than that in execution. The setting is lovely, though, and it really made me want to visit Hokkaido one day. Nicely done, tourism board.

If you watched this and were put off by it, I don’t blame you; I probably would’ve been too if I hadn’t decided to read ahead in the manga. I will say this, though: If you liked Hokkaido Gals even a little, read the manga. It’s a minor investment, but if you can get over the halfway mark, it gets surprisingly good and has a really lovely ending. 

The anime, on the other hand? Meh. Doesn’t look super great and didn’t have enough time in 12 episodes to overcome most of the issues the source material had to move past to get to what made it worthwhile. It would take another season or two to get there, and that probably isn’t gonna happen. Great OP, though (I'm starting to repeat myself, I know). Just read the manga.

35. No Longer Allowed in Another World

Boasting one of the most audacious premises for an isekai I’ve ever seen, No Longer Allowed in Another World doesn’t shy away from the implications of an Osamu Dazai isekai, has the dark humor to match, and provides some fascinating commentary on the type of person who tends to consume wish-fulfillment isekai. Unfortunately, the presentation was a little lacking and threatened to lose my attention several times. I think the idea is much better on paper, to the point where I might test that theory and go read the manga.

34. The Wrong Way to Use Healing Magic

The next dozen or so anime in the rankings fall into a category of either “well-made anime that I found kind of frustrating” or “middling anime that I kind of enjoyed.” The Wrong Way to Use Healing Magic is very much the latter. It’s a standard isekai on paper; demon king, special powers, what have you, but it has a likable cast and laid-back vibe for much of its runtime that made it pleasant enough to watch.

As I said after the winter season, I really liked that Wrong Way spends a lot of its early story ensuring that the protagonist expends the time and effort necessary for him to become the hero he’s meant to be instead of the narrative just handing it to him from the start, which instantly sets it apart from most other wish-fulfillment isekai. It’s far from the best-looking anime I watched this year, but it has a mid-00s throwback look and feel to it that works more to its benefit than in Mysterious Disappearances. Nothing groundbreaking and a little too backloaded, but an enjoyable enough experience and one I’m looking forward to seeing come back. 

The only really upsetting thing about this show is that Atsuko Tanaka (Major Kusanagi, Bayonetta, Kainé), who was tremendous as the intimidating Captain Rose, is no longer with us. She was an exceptional talent with an iconic voice who will be sorely missed, and future seasons of this show won’t be the same without her.

33. Go! Go! Loser Ranger

Though not a bad anime by most metrics, I still consider Loser Ranger a minor disappointment. It mostly looks great, and “what if The Boys was a sentai series” is a killer premise, but the story so far is extremely frontloaded. Almost too much happens in the first four episodes, and then the bulk of the last arc of the season takes place in a goddamn parking garage. I’m still annoyed by that. Still looking forward to season 2, but I wish the debut season had been 24 episodes to avoid the sour taste in my mouth.

Did you hear that echo? Yep, that's me telling you to watch yet another OP. Easily the best part of the show and one of the best of the year. Tatsuya Kitani can't keep getting away with it.

32. Astro Note

2024 turned out to be a banner year for Rumiko Takahashi’s older works making their way back to modern screens, and one of those entries wasn’t even hers.

Astro Note is an overt homage to Takahashi’s less-famous romcom Maison Ikkoku, which ran parallel to Urusei Yatsura for most of the latter’s run. Like Ikkoku, Astro Note follows a down-on-his-luck young man living in a boarding house full of bizarre miscreants who only stays because the manager is super pretty. Unlike Ikkoku, and unbeknownst to our protagonist, said manager is actually an alien who is practically turning the house over to find a secret alien MacGuffin.

This show looks lovely and has a delightful cast and some surprisingly moving subplots, but it’s nothing too special otherwise. There are some fun creative flourishes here and there, like the alien stuff shown in flashback being made to look like an older space opera anime, but aside from a very fun turn near the end of the season, Astro Note rarely rises above the level of simply “pleasant.” And that’s fine, but it doesn’t quite live up to the material it’s aping, and what we’ve ended up with is just a nice distraction. 

I’m so glad I finally decided to read Maison Ikkoku though.

31. Shangri-La Frontier, second cour

It’s been a running joke for me that the more I watch Shangri-La Frontier, the less I’m sure whether I like it or not, and now with 25 episodes in the tank, I’m less sure than ever. The back half of the debut season improved on a few of the things that annoyed me about its first cour by focusing more on the high-quality action and introducing minor stakes to the proceedings, and then everything else surrounding it made it feel no less like I’m just watching a guy playing a goddamn video game, and the stakes still mostly seem to amount to "he wants to be good at it."

You may notice that I didn’t include the second season in this review, and that’s because I flat-out didn’t care to pick it back up. I’d been busy during the fall season and continuing a show I didn’t enjoy that much just wasn’t a high priority. It’s continuing into January, so there’s time to catch it while it airs, but I’m still not in any hurry.

[leclercsluvs]

MV1 | Echoes of Sorrow

part 1 | masterlist

an: this is sorta loosely based on a song from 2006 that i used to listen to all the time. considering it's not an english song, i'm not going too much after it, just kinda the "plot" of the song. it's danish by the duo nik & jay and its called 'når et lys slukkes' so if you're up for it you can take a listen. i haven't made a written fic since my wattpad days back in 2019 so i'm not sure how good this is. sorry about the cliffhanger hehe also very sorry i haven't posted in many days, i lowkey forgot about all of these, and then i got a tiny bit busy so when i did remember i didn't have time to write. anyway enjoy this while i work on something more pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader warning: kidnapping, swearing, death, drunk driving, murder, car crash, google translated french word count: 2.8k

Max knew bringing you into his life was dangerous, but it wasn't until he got the call that he realized just how dangerous it had been. You hadn’t been in danger in the four years you’d been dating. But then again, Max didn’t quite know the dangers of what he had gotten himself into in the beginning. He thought it was just an innocent way to get a ton of money. Boy, was he wrong. Now he was sitting in a bar at 12 PM because he didn’t know what to do. It had been raining all week, and right now, it certainly wasn't helping his mood.

“Can I have a refill?” Max mumbled to the bartender, pushing his glass forward. He hadn't been here for that long, but he had definitely had more than he should have. But he needed to clear his head a little, and he couldn’t do that sober. At least, that was his excuse for ending up at the bar.

“I think you’ve had enough,” the bartender walked over to him, putting a hand in front of Max. “Can I have your keys? You’re not driving anywhere like this.”

“I didn’t bring my keys,” Max lied effortlessly. “Someone drove me here. I’ll just call a cab.” He got up and walked towards the door. He could feel the tears stinging in his eyes, but he wasn’t interested in crying in front of anyone. Not right now. He just needed a bit more liquor, and he’d be set. He could find you. You were counting on him.

In fact, you knew Max was coming. He had been telling you ever since you started dating that if anything were to happen to you, he’d be the first to start looking for you. And right now, that hope was all you needed. You needed the knowledge that someone was coming, someone was looking for you. You didn’t exactly know how you ended up tied together in the trunk of a car, but you knew this was not on your to-do list for today. You weren’t even sure who was driving the car you were in, and you couldn’t feel your phone in your pocket, so you had no way to call Max.

Max stumbled into the small convenience store and picked up a bottle of vodka. “This will probably do,” he mumbled and walked to the cash register to pay.

“Mr. Verstappen! What are you doing here so early? I didn't think you’d be back today. I don't have it here,” the owner of the store looked almost terrified to see him back. Well, to be fair, he was here collecting a big sum of money just a few days ago, and let’s just say, it didn’t quite go as everyone had wanted. They still had some cleaning up to do.

“I’m not here for business today,” Max said as he placed the bottle on the counter. “Just had to pick up this.” He looked up at the man across from him, eyes blank, on the brink of tears. He wouldn't do it yet, though. Not around people. He might be liked and respected as of right now, but all that could change oh so quickly, especially if he broke down over this. So many people in this business had suffered worse, and he was on the brink of crying because his girlfriend had been kidnapped? And he didn’t even fully know if it was true yet.

“Oh, well, that will be 20 dollars,” the store owner barely finished before the money was on the counter, bottle in Max’s hand, and he was walking towards the door. He needed time alone. Now. He needed to process.

As the car came to a stop, you couldn’t do anything but hold your breath. Would you know the person who had taken you, or would he be a total stranger? The trunk opened, and the rain disappointed you. Was it really on a rainy day you got kidnapped? A man’s face appeared, and you couldn’t help the fear creeping in.

“So, you are Max’s girl now?” he spoke with a French accent. If he wasn’t a kidnapper, you would have found it kinda hot. But under the circumstances, it was anything BUT hot.

“What do you want us to do with her?” a different voice asked. You sort of recognized it, but only faintly. Was he the one who had technically kidnapped you? Most likely.

“Get her inside. I have to call Max. He needs to know for sure that we have her. I want him in the most panicked state possible before I send the body to him.” The body? Was he talking about yours? God, you were going to die on a rainy day. How awesome. The Frenchman walked away, and his friend came into view, picking you up as easily as if you were a bag of flour. You tried everything to get out, not really interested in this new fate of yours.

Max barely made it to the car before his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. It was an unknown number. He hesitated for a second, then realized it could be someone with news about you, so he quickly accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?” He unscrewed the cap on the bottle of vodka and took a quick sip as he waited for a reply from the unknown caller.

“Is this Max Verstappen?” he sighed, doubting it was about you if they had to ask if it was him.

“Yes, this is Max,” he replied while screwing the cap back on the bottle. “Who am I speaking with?”

“You should come see for yourself, if you want to see your girlfriend again,” the voice stated and gave an address. Max wasted no time getting there, tears running down his cheeks. He was silent, though; he just had to get to you, had to get you back. He couldn’t let anything happen to you. He couldn’t lose you.

Against your will, you were placed on a chair in the middle of a nicely decorated room on the second floor of a huge house. You started losing hope. They weren't going to wait long, not if their plan to send your body to Max was going to be successful. Panic and fear started to mix as you were left alone in the room with your thoughts, thoughts about how this stranger was going to murder you and then send your body to Max. You couldn’t stop imagining his face. If he knew about you by now, he would be looking for you. You knew it. It had to be like that, right? He had told you so many times. He would get to you. You needed him. Your only hope was him.

Max walked up to the front door, feeling 100% sober; however, the bottle was still in his hand. Could it be useful? Maybe if it was empty. He had to get you out alive and safe, though, so anything was helpful. The front door was slightly open, so he pushed it further open, hoping no one was there. He would like for this to be a bit of a surprise. He left his phone in the car, so it wouldn’t suddenly ring or vibrate and expose him.

The first room he stepped into was a living room, nicely decorated with a lot of expensive furniture. “This asshole sure loves spending money,” Max muttered to himself as he moved further into the house, looking behind every door he passed.

He made it into the kitchen. He hadn't run into anyone yet, but he knew it wouldn't be long, and he didn't have any way to defend himself except for the bottle. But how useful was that really? He looked around the room, and his gaze landed on a set of kitchen knives, almost glinting on the table, asking him to take one with him. So he did and moved further until he got to a staircase. He could hear faint voices coming from upstairs, but he couldn't hear who they belonged to or what the topic was. He quietly made his way up the stairs, knife ready in his right hand, bottle in his left hand. He was prepared for any surprise this might throw at him.

Before reaching the very top, he stopped and wiped his eyes before taking the last step up. He looked around, making sure they weren't right there waiting for him. He moved towards the voices, and his entire body stiffened as he heard your voice. “Don't hurt him! Please! I’ll do anything to keep him safe.” Max took a couple more steps and stopped. The voices were much louder now.

“Everything, huh?” Max heard the French accent and immediately knew who it was. Pierre. Pierre fucking Gasly. Max was seething with rage. He could feel it in every fiber of his being. “How about…” The voice trailed off, and Max heard you let out a whimper. His mind was suddenly full of all the things Pierre could be doing to you. When Max heard the second whimper, it was clear Pierre was doing something to inflict pain on you, and it was almost as if something changed inside Max. He barely had enough self-control to stay put and put together a plan, but any plan he made wouldn’t be good enough if he didn't do something now.

Just as he was about to jump in and do god knows what, he heard your voice. “Va te faire foutre,” (fuck you - google translate please lmk if it's wrong <3) you spat out, and Max couldn’t help but feel proud, even if he had no clue what you said. He stood like that for a few seconds until he heard your muffled cry, and he sprung into action, not even thinking about what he was about to do, right in front of you.

Both you and Pierre, who didn’t hear Max arrive, were startled, and rightfully so. Who wouldn't be startled if a man came at you with a knife, rage in his eyes? Max wouldn’t let anything happen, even if that meant he had to kill. He tackled Pierre in less than 2 seconds simply because Pierre wasn’t prepared. Max quickly positioned himself so Pierre had no way of moving and then brought out the knife, taunting Pierre a bit before he made his first cut. No one would be able to identify Pierre when Max was done with him. However, he hadn't noticed that you were tied to the chair, forced to watch as Max dug the knife into Pierre's skin, slowly dragging out the pain. As Pierre thought the first part was over, Max quickly placed the knife in his abdomen, making Pierre cough up a bit of blood and just look at the knife with pure shock and horror in his eyes. Max locked their eyes and kept eye contact as he twisted the knife, making Pierre groan in pain. Funnily enough, Max quite enjoyed this. He slowly pulled out the knife, but not for long; he had a lot of work ahead of him. He didn’t plan to let Pierre off the hook easily.

The red blood seemed to never stop seeping out of the many wounds inflicted by Max. It felt like it was everywhere: the carpet, the walls, Max’s hands, Pierre — a mess, not recognizable at all. Max got up and looked around to see where you might have gone, only to see you strapped to the chair, tears never stopping from falling down your cheeks as you just stared at the mess in front of you. “What did you do? What the hell did you do?!” you almost screamed, pain radiating from your voice, not only from what you had just witnessed, but also from the wound above your knee, blood trickling down your leg. He should have noticed, he should have known. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! How could he have missed this?

He rushed to your side, putting pressure on your wound, looking around for something he could use instead of his hands, but he couldn’t see anything useful. “Please tell me you’re going to be okay,” Max said, looking at your leg; the blood didn’t stop, his hands weren’t enough.

Your face was still full of tears, your skin looking a little pale. Sweat started to cover your skin. It almost looked like you had just taken a shower in your clothes. “OMG Max,” you mumbled, barely able to get the sentence out, “did you just kill him?” You looked at him with wide eyes as a sudden headache hit you, your vision became blurry. “What’s that ringing sound?” you asked, confused, barely able to focus, anxiety creeping into your brain, consuming all your thoughts.

Max was just confused. There was no ringing. It was completely quiet, except for Pierre’s ragged breaths. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Schat. There is no ringing.”

“The pain stopped,” Max looked up at you, horrified at what you had just said. You couldn’t not be in pain. He couldn’t leave the scene like this, though, so he unscrewed the cap on the bottle he brought with him and poured it around Pierre. He wasn’t sure this was going to look like an accidental fire, but did he really care about that right now? No. He only cared about you, and he needed to get you to a hospital now. He quickly got you free from the chair, took a lighter out of his pocket, ripped off a small piece of fabric from his shirt, and lit it on fire. He let go of it and let it drop to the floor, where a ring of fire quickly spread around Pierre.

He had to move quickly now. He picked you up; your body already felt lifeless. He got you to the car, luckily without running into any of Pierre’s men. It was only a matter of time before they noticed the fire.

He had to get to the hospital as quickly as he could. He floored the accelerator. Getting you to the hospital was the only thing on his mind this second, and he did make it. However, your body was limp, lifeless, and he was afraid it was too late. But he still had to try; he didn't have time to feel for a pulse, just had to get you in quickly.

“Help! Please!” he walked through the doors with you in his arms, multiple doctors running towards him.

“What happened?” a nurse asked while someone else asked for a gurney.

“I’m not sure. I was told to go to a location, and I found her inside, strapped to a chair with a wound above her knee,” Max basically told the truth, except for the part about Pierre. No one had to know about that. No one would know about that.

“Put her here, and we'll do our best to save her,” the nurse gestured to the gurney being pushed towards them in a hurry. They all disappeared in a hurry, doing everything they could. Max didn’t see much, but he did see that no one gave you CPR, which must mean you had a pulse. He looked down and noticed his hands, covered in blood, which must mean his car was covered in blood too, which meant he needed to clean it.

He rushed out, rushing to his car. He had to get home, get it cleaned up. He couldn't seem to stop crying, and the fact it was raining didn’t help his vision at all. He pushed on the accelerator a bit more, his head full of thoughts: thoughts of you dying, it being his fault. He never had to get into this business. He decided to put on some music, and the song currently being played was one of the new ones from Taylor Swift. Max didn’t mind it. He actually related a little to the song. He turned up the volume and listened to the chorus of “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?”

A tear fell down his left cheek as the roads got a bit narrower. This didn't make him slow down; quite the opposite, actually. He sped up more. He liked the thrill of it. His alcohol level was way too high for him to be driving this quickly, in a part of town with a lot of traffic lights and pedestrians.

He didn't see the red light until it was too late. The woman crossing the road to reach her friend didn't notice either. Her boyfriend did, though, and he leaped out in front to try and push her out of the way. However, he didn't manage to do it in time. Max’s foot slammed down on the brake, but it was too late. Max closed his eyes; he knew how this would end. He heard a bang, and all light disappeared.

[everlastingday]

favourite fandom memories

thank you @thisbuildinghasfeelings for creating this tag game and for tagging me! 💜

favourite fandom memories tag game post

1 - how tarlos and lone star brought me back to tumblr and fandom after almost a decade

i still kind of feel like a bit of an imposter/outsider since i've only really been on here since late october, i think? i posted my first tarlos fic to ao3 after 5x05 aired, and then shortly after revived this tumblr account from the dead (my last post before then was literally in 2015 lol) because i was just itching for more tarlos and lone star content. rediscovering the joy of being part of a fandom has been such a highlight of the last year for me. it's a little intimidating to join a fandom that seems so tight-knit and already fully formed, but i want to thank anyone who's ever tagged me in anything and made me feel like i was also welcome to join in on the fun and not just lurk from the outside 💜

2 - liveblogging and post-episode analysis

i am a yapper and a rambler at heart and i've loved being able to liveblog the last few episodes and just sit with my feelings and write up my silly little thoughts. something about putting those thoughts into words and throwing them out into the void, even if nobody sees it, makes it such a different experience than just watching the episodes alone. my first post-episode word vomit about the tarlos loft fight will always remain my favourite because it's about them and love and family.

3 - fanfic, obviously

there are SO many talented fic writers in this fandom, i truly feel so blessed. my to-read list continues to grow by the day, and i hope that never stops being the case. i also want to shout out love game by @welcometololaland, which holds a special place in my heart because while it was not my first tarlos fic, it was my first foray into reading tarlos au fics, and the one that made me realize i actually really love au fics in general. i read it for the first time around this time last year, and have reread it so many times since then (and i definitely owe you all the comments lola, i'm so sorry! i promise one of those guest kudos is from me tho 🥲)

anyway let me stop being all in my feels and just say that despite being sad about the show ending soon, i'm so glad i'm not sad about it alone 💜

open tag & no-pressure tagging a few people under the cut!

@heartstringsduet @whatsintheboxmh @nancys-braids @reyesstrand @captain-gillian @lemonlyman-dotcom @bonheur-cafe @carlossreaders @lightningboltreader @eclectic-sassycoweyes @firstprince-history-huh @carlos-in-glasses @nisbanisba @henrygrass @emsprovisions @paperstorm @futures-tense

[kidelder]

making this post as i am extremely upset and i don't think people, esp western players on international servers realize just how harmful and racist, or more specifically sinophobic it is with how they constantly try to assign any other nationalities to the lads LIs. this is blatant whitewashing that we're seeing right now. bear with me because this will be a long post but i need y'all to read everything and think.

so recently there have been so many posts that i mainly see on x/twitter that are speculating and analyzing the LIs' nationalities, with some users even uploading LIs pics onto those nationalities analyze websites and all that, just to prove that the LIs are not Chinese. and this is where the problem starts and i don't think there's enough people that are not chinese players now that realize why this is such a harmful and offensive thing to do because these posts and these analyzed results from the websites usually state the LIs are anything but Chinese. with some users even saying caleb xia yizhou are like korean-american, and how rafayel qi yu is more japanese than anything else. a very few posts that they only see zayne li shen as chinese bc he looks chinese. now, bonus question, why do you think they see zayne as chinese? you got it right, because he has rather narrowed eyes and black hair (though they did mention he doesn't look that chinese either because he has golden-green eyes and chinese ppl only have black/brown eyes). from here, so many posts start popping up as how they see the LIs actually are. "oh i see him as russian/persian" "he looks so korean and japanese to me!" "he's definitely a white!"

some of these posts are still acknowledging the LIs as east asian, but never chinese.

keep in mind that this is a chinese game, made by a chinese gaming development company, based in china. the game has made a handful of collaborations with official departments to promote and share about chinese's intangible cultural heritage and this is likely to continue. the game devs wished the players happy chinese new year continuously for three days. now before you go all "it's lunar new year!!", i beg you to look at this post first because it's always been chinese new year, and not lunar new year as it is the wrong term to use (not because only chinese celebrate chinese new year lol). some of the irl pics that appear in LIs' moments posts are taken near the company headquarter building in shanghai, china (like the black cat with white feet pic in zayne li's moment post one time). the game talks about hongbao (red packets), yuanxiao, qixi (chinese valentine's day) and so many more that i can't list all right now and all of these are chinese cultural elements that we still keep and celebrate until this very day!!

now i ask you, i'm begging you all to answer this question: is it now not offensive anymore to be assuming someone's ethnicity just by how they look? we're coming full circle back onto where we started. you see an east asian person on the street and you ask where they're from, they say they're from china and you're like "oh you're so pretty, you don't look chinese to me!" ??

like answer me this, are you sure you're not just being racist and sinophobic? it's almost like you can't admit anything good could come from china, be it a chinese game with attractive LIs.

now before you ask why do they all have colored eyes and colored hair and even english names (and other names that fit the other locales). first of all, the LIs are not even normal humans ? one of them is literally a sea god, and he has a tail like fucking mermaids. the other is a dragon. the other is a prince from another planet and dare i say, an alien. and you want to put hair color and eye color stereotypes to this ? china has 56 ethnic groups (only 1 of them is the dominant Han chinese) and you want to tell me not one 56 ethnic groups would have tall nose bridges ? have you actually looked at chinese people or do you only think all we have are just monolids ? for example, look at celebrities from xinjiang, china. to name one of the most iconic top stars in china right now: dilraba dilmurat. (EDIT: speaking of han chinese, here's a few other celebs with such strong and beautiful features that you may think they do not fit your han chinese stereotypes: zhang linghe, fan bingbing, gao weiguang and so many more, and this list is mainly to tell you that this is why your argument of the LIs look white / other ethnicities do not stand as chinese people's looks vary significantly.)

the game devs could have done better and just standardize with using chinese names through all servers. but how many of y'all have actually tried to pronounce chinese names correctly? so many chinese who live abroad got mocked because of these 'weird' names that are 'so hard to pronounce'. it's the same kind of people who want us to stay true to our heritage and culture and use our given chinese names, but also the same kind of people who mispronounce it every time. so we adopt english names for convenience, and now you're blaming us for not staying true to our culture and we shouldn't cater because this is what happens if we cater too much. so everything becomes our fault again.

with these posts that keep denying to acknowledge the very chinese aspects of these LIs, it's just extremely offensive to watch all of this unfold as a chinese myself, because it's like you're basically saying with all these fancy cultural things, or with their extremely good looks and attractive personalities, they can be anything but chinese. it's almost like you're denying that chinese people can be good, and you're denying that you just like a chinese game's chinese coded characters?

is this just not sinophobia?