#I don't remember if snarky had a name for their version like the rest do if it has one sorry I forgot it f

[drops-of-moonlights]

a flutter of blooms

feat @emsartwork‘s Bloom, @snarky-art‘s Bloom, my Bloom and @butterfly-winx‘s Bloom!

this was just a doodle idea I had and I was like “sure it’s simple enough let’s do it” lol

[that1emowitch]

Fire #6 (Jason Todd & Child!OC)

Summary:

JAYROY JAYROY JAYROY (also Cass and Steph meet Nile, plot finally advances a bit more)

Rating: Teen & Up Audiences (there might be some swears and graphic descriptions of violence)

Word Count: 3359

A/N:

this was fun to write

Chapter 6: Harper

“JASON!” Nightwing screamed as he watched the green haze completely fill his brother’s eyes, as his body went limp and he fell to the floor. He sprinted forward and caught him, shaking him, trying to get him to wake up, but Jason didn’t move. He was barely breathing. “No no no—” 

The deafening silence that followed sent a chill down Nightwing's spine. He cradled Jason's lifeless body in his arms, his heart pounding in his chest with a mix of fear and desperation.

"Come on, Jay, don't do this," he pleaded, his voice choking with emotion. He knew the torment of the Lazarus Pit was overwhelming his brother, but he couldn't bear the thought of losing him again.

Oracle's voice crackled through his comm, offering support and guidance. "Dick, we need to get him back to the Batcave immediately. Penny-Wise is on standby, and we'll have all the medical equipment ready."

Nightwing nodded, his eyes never leaving Jason's unconscious form. Batman carefully lifted him from his arms, feeling the weight of their shared history press upon him. He couldn't let go of the guilt he felt for not being there for Jason when he needed him most. 

With a heavy heart, Batman gently carried his wayward son to the Batmobile. He carefully settled Jason in the backseat, feeling a pang of nostalgia as he remembered the days when Jason was a reckless teenager trying to steal the wheels of this very car. Where did all the time go?

Pushing aside his own feelings of failure, Batman focused on the road ahead. He couldn't let his emotions consume him, not when Gotham still needed her Dark Knight. His sense of duty and responsibility to the people of the city demanded that he remain strong and capable of protecting them.

Nightwing took his seat beside Jason, letting his head rest on his lap. Tears filled his eyes as he gently cradled his little brother. I can’t believe I didn’t realise he needed help before… Dick knew he hadn’t been the best brother back when Bruce first took Jason in— scratch that, he’d been the worst brother ever.

He’d been so mad that B gave his title, the name his mother gave him, to some random kid he picked off the streets. Robin had been everything to him, the only motivation for him to keep smiling and living, and Batman had taken that away from him. He’d been so angry. At Bruce. At Jason. Everyone. Only problem, it wasn’t Jason’s fault. 

He made Jason feel like shit for being Robin. On purpose. His mind wandered to the day his relationship with him had completely shattered.

"I’m Robin, and being Robin gives me magic!" Jason's innocent words echoed in Dick's head, but he’d refused to let sentiment cloud his judgement. "Magic isn't real, kid," Dick retorted, his voice tinged with impatience. "And you're not actually Robin. I am."

The young boy, never one to back down, shot back with a snarky remark, leaving Dick feeling even more incensed. "Firstly, have you ever met Zatanna?" Jason challenged, his eyes narrowing defiantly. "Also, you were Robin. It's me now."

The words hit Dick like a punch to the gut. A wave of anger surged within him, threatening to consume him. How dare this boy claim to be the true Robin? He couldn't accept that his legacy was being usurped by someone so young and inexperienced. The pain of Jason's arrival in Gotham and his subsequent role as Robin that still haunted Dick, Bruce not even telling him he’d found his replacement, Dick having to find out there’s a new Robin while on mission, and now, confronted with this new and brash version of his former mantle, it was all too much to bear. 

"You're an imposter, not the real deal," Dick snapped, his tone dripping with contempt. He couldn't hide the bitterness that seeped into his words. The weight of his years as Robin, the battles fought and sacrifices made, felt as if they were being diminished by Jason's presence. “Fuck off!” 

He almost took back his words when he saw the younger boy flinch back, his face contorted with hurt. “I don’t care what you think, Dickhead,” Jason answered quietly before  walking away.

He thought about that encounter for days, and he wanted to apologise, but that was the last time he saw him. He’d run off to Ethiopia just a few weeks later. When Dick was off-world with the Titans. He’d come back home, wanting to make up with Jason, just to find out he wasn’t here anymore. He was dead.

His grip on his unconscious brother tightened. I— I thought— when Jason came back, maybe I’ve got a second chance… I’ve gotta be the best big brother to him, to the others…  But he’d failed miserably. He would have never known Jason wasn’t okay if Tim hadn’t told him. Jason doesn’t even trust me enough to tell me he’s got a kid.

“Jaybird…” He muttered, caressing his cheek. He was getting cold, his pulse was weaker than it should be. I’m not going to lose you again. “I won’t abandon you again,” he whispered, even though he knew he couldn’t hear him. “I promise.”

“Orphan,” Red Robin’s voice crackled through Cass’s comm. “You free?”

She glanced down at the crime lord she was tracking, her focus unwavering. “No.”

“Oh– Uh, well, once you’re done, do you wanna hang out?”

"Busy," she replied tersely, determined to stay on task. She had to gather as much intel as possible before confronting this criminal.

“I’m calling Spoiler too,” Her brother tried to persuade her. “We need to—”

"Red! No. Sorry." Her response was quiet but resolute. She couldn't afford distractions right now. I have to find out who this idiot’s working with first.

She heard Red sigh through the comms. “There’s a baby.”

She skidded to a stop, her heart skipping a beat. Did I hear that right? “Baby?”

“Yeah,” Tim laughed. “She’s our niece. You have to meet her.”

“...”

“So, you coming?” He asked once again, his tone amused.

“...yes. Five minutes.”

Nile was fast asleep when Cass arrived. Tim, on the other hand, looked extremely sleep-deprived. He’d filled her in on the entire situation on her way here, so she knew Jason had impulsively adopted an adorable little girl, but she hadn’t expected her to be so adorable. She somehow resisted the urge to squish her, not wanting to wake her up.

Tim sat on the counter, just a few feet from the broken glass where Dick had broken into the apartment. He was researching more about Nile while Oracle tried to track down Jason. He held a steaming hot cup of black coffee in his hand. He must’ve raided Jason’s kitchen. 

She entered the house silently and stood by the open window, waiting for Tim to notice her. It took him a solid 5 seconds. “Hi,” He finally realised she was there.

“Slow,” she stated matter-of-factly, booping his nose. Someone could have killed him in those 5 seconds. Ignoring that for now, she turned her attention to the figure sleeping on the sofa. “Nile?” 

“Yeah,” Tim smiled lovingly. “Adorable, isn’t she?”

“HI GUYS!” A chirpy voice sounded as a glittery purple figure entered. 

“Shhh!” Tim warned, pointing to the sleeping Nile.

Steph gasped and covered her mouth. “oMg I’m so sorry…” She dropped her voice to a loud whisper. “Awww she’s so CUTE!!! Are you sure she’s Jason’s?”

Tim stifled a laugh. “She’s adopted, Steph. Just like most of us here.”

Cass smiled and took a seat beside the baby, deciding to watch over her silently. Steph walked over to Tim and snatched the coffee from his hands. “No more of that, Timbo. You’ll die of coffee overdose.”

“That’s not even a real thing!” He whisper-shouted, glaring at her.

“Sure is,” she countered, glaring back with more intensity.

Tim narrowed his eyes at her angrily but eventually broke eye contact. No one can win against Steph in a staring contest. 

Huffing, he changed the topic. “You girls need to see this. It’s footage I recovered from Hood’s helmet. Of the guys who were holding Nile hostage.”

He turned the computer so everyone could see it. A video started playing, showing a warehouse on fire. Tim skipped forward a bit then paused at a shot that clearly showed the criminals. “Look at their uniforms. Do you recognise them?”

Cass quickly scanned their uniforms. Made to look like the League of Shadows attire, but not completely. No visible logos or symbols. Seems to be fireproof. “Not League,” she offered.

“Yeah, definitely not,” Steph agreed. “They’re way too rash, and they seem untrained. Like goons for hire. The League would never let these idiots work for them.”

Tim sat back, thinking. “Who else would—”

“GUYS!” Oracle’s voice crackling through their comms interrupted him. “Bat and Wing found Hood. He— he’s not in the best state of mind. They’re taking him to the Batcave.”

“What?” Tim’s voice filled with worry for his predecessor. “Is he okay?”

He could hear Babs sigh wearily. “No, not really… There’s more. I just intercepted an encrypted payment from an anonymous buyer to Carmine Falcone along with Nile’s photo. Given how easily all of you broke in, Jason’s apartment clearly isn’t safe enough for her…”

“Falcone? Someone’s willing to pay a lot of money just to get her,” Steph pondered, glancing at the sleeping girl. “But why?”

“Not the priority right now,” Oracle ordered them. “Take her to the Batcave first. She’s safest there. And… I think it’s best if she’s there when Jason wakes up.”

Cass nodded silently and lifted the girl into her arms, gently cradling her. “You’re safe,” She promised her, vowing to protect this innocent soul at all costs. The three young heroes quickly wore their masks and started packing up their equipment. Steph had the idea to bring along as many of Nile’s clothes and toys as they could so that the girl felt safe when she woke up. They were about to leave when suddenly Tim noticed a phone vibrating on a far end of the counter.

Jason’s phone. He left it here. He’d almost forgotten about it. Must’ve been on silent mode this whole time. He checked the phone to see 13 missed calls and a hundred texts from a contact labelled “Arsenal”

“Uh, guys?” He questioned, unsure whether to call back. “Arsenal— Roy Harper has been blowing up Jason’s phone for the last 10 minutes… Should we tell him what happened?”

“Of course we should,” Steph voted. “Isn’t he, like, madly in love with Jason or something? He deserves to know.”

Tim turned to Cass, waiting for her opinion. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded.

“Okay, then. Let’s get going. We’ll call him on the way.”

Tim was filled with dread as he clicked the ‘call’ button. I’m not good at talking to people I barely know, and now I’m supposed to explain to Roy Harper how his boyfriend had a mental breakdown because of me and is on the verge of death?

He wished Roy wouldn’t pick up.

Of course, his wishes weren’t granted.

“JASON?” Harper’s worried voice filtered through the speaker. “Why the hell have you been ignoring me? Wh—”

“Harper,” Tim interrupted. “This is Tim Drake.”

“Drake?” The confusion in his voice was clear. “Where’s Jason?”

Tim cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh– see, um–”

“WHERE THE HELL IS JASON?” The older man was clearly angry and impatient. 

“In the Batcave’s med bay, half-dead.” Steph saved Tim with her blunt description. “He kinda had a complete mental breakdown. Pit Terrors again, I think.”

“What?” Roy’s voice broke. “Shit. I’m coming over. Tell Alfie I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Aren’t you in Star City? It’s like three hours away—” Roy hung up on them abruptly. Tim blinked, surprised. “Uh, okay…”

“WAIT, we forgot to tell him about Nile!”

“Where’re you going?” Roy heard his 7-year-old daughter ask him as he haphazardly packed a bag.

“Lian, sweetie, Daddy’s going to visit Uncle Jay-Jay, okay?” He pressed a kiss on her forehead. 

“Uncle? I thought Jay-Jay was your boyfriend?” She quipped. 

Roy's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "What? No, Lian, he's not my... Oh, never mind."

I kinda wish Jason was my boyfriend— that way, I could always be with him. I wouldn’t have to find out that he almost died from his little brother.

“Look,” He immediately changed the topic. “You’re staying with Dinah for a while. Be a good girl for her, okay?”

“When am I not good?” She asked, smiling and feigning innocence.

Dinah couldn't hold back her laughter from the doorway. "Don't worry, Lian, you're the sweetest little girl I've ever met."

Lian shot a triumphant look at her dad, as if to say 'see, I told you.' Roy sighed and rubbed his temples. This kid was a handful, and she definitely knew it.

He sighed and rubbed his temples. “No touching your bow or your arrows unless Dinah specifically says it’s okay, no going near anything that makes flames, no picking fights with your classmates. Oh yeah, and absolutely no candy after bedtime. You know how long you stay up if you eat candy at night.”

She frowned. “No, I don’t!”

Roy rolled his eyes. "Trust me, Lian, I've seen it. It's like watching a little Energizer bunny who’s taken five shots of pure caffeine."

Dinah chuckled and ruffled the girl’s hair lovingly. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything like that, Roy. Don’t freak.”

“Ugh.” Roy zipped up his bag, finally done packing. “I’m leaving, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can. Please don’t give Dinah too much trouble.” He gave Lian a warm hug and a little kiss on her cheek before heading out the door. With a little salute as a gesture of gratitude towards his adoptive mother, he disappeared from sight, making his way to his car.

The silence of the car seemed starkly different from the chaotic scenes at his house. It offered a rare moment of solitude, a chance to let his thoughts churn. Jason's face flashed in his mind, imagining him tormented by the Pit's grip. Why didn't he ever share this with me? Their last conversation was only a week ago, and back then, he appeared so... fine...

I don’t wanna think anymore… It hurts too much… He adjusted the volume knob on the radio, hoping the blaring music would drown out the cacophony of thoughts. Yet, they persisted, like stubborn ghosts haunting his mind. Love shouldn't hurt like this... 

"Ugh!" The exasperated cry ripped out of him, a guttural release of frustration. He gripped the steering wheel tighter. This was ridiculous. Why did his heart have to be so damned loyal? Jason had moved on from whatever they used to share. It’s been more than a year.

"I'm such an idiot," he muttered bitterly to the empty car. "He doesn't feel that way about me anymore." 

The words felt like acid on his tongue, a painful admission he'd been trying to avoid.

“Forget it, Roy,” He tried to coach himself. “He’s still your best friend. And he needs you right now.”

I can’t forget it, though.

“It can wait.”

Roy stormed into the Batcave, his concern overriding any sense of propriety in the moment. Worry had driven him almost mad during the agonising hour he'd spent waiting, trapped in the solitude of his thoughts. "Where's Jason!?" he demanded, his voice echoing off the cave walls, the tension radiating off him like an electric charge.

Alfred Pennyworth, ever the composed butler, stepped forward to intercept the agitated visitor. "Sir, please do try to calm yourself," Alfred said with measured patience, his British accent offering a soothing undertone to his words. "Master Jason is in the med bay. If you would allow me, I'll be more than happy to guide you there."

Roy heaved a sigh, collecting himself and realising he had no right to unleash his anxiety on Alfred. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softening with genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to—"

Alfred waved off the apology with an understanding smile. "No need for apologies, Mr. Harper. Please, come with me."

As they walked to the med bay, Roy's heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of dread and hope swirling within him. And then, there he was—Jason, lying on the bed, swathed in bandages that seemed to cover his very soul. Tubes and monitors were the fragile threads keeping him tethered to life.

Tears welled up in Roy's eyes, blurring his vision as he took in the sight before him. The overwhelming wave of emotion threatened to drown him, but he fought to stay upright. Every beep of the heart rate monitor felt like a countdown, every shallow breath Jason took, a painful reminder of their shared past and his fragile present.

"He had several untended wounds that he must have ignored for days," Alfred's voice carried a weight of sorrow and regret as he provided Roy with the grim details. The butler's normally composed demeanour seemed to falter, revealing the depth of his concern for the young man lying unconscious before them. "We only discovered his Pit Terrors yesterday. It… It was nearly too late."

Roy's breath caught in his throat at the revelation, his mind reeling from the implications of what he was hearing. The image of Jason, suffering in silence, weighed heavily on his heart. He struggled to process the whirlwind of emotions that surged through him—worry, anger at himself for not realising sooner, and a profound sadness for the pain Jason must have endured.

Alfred's comforting hand found its way to Roy's shoulder, a gesture of support that managed to convey the elder man's understanding of the younger's turmoil. Roy's own emotions threatened to overwhelm him, and he felt his eyes welling up again. It was a battle just to find his voice amidst the storm inside him. "Thank you, Alfred," he managed to choke out, his words carrying a blend of gratitude and vulnerability.

With a gentle squeeze, Alfred offered a reassuring smile. "Feel free to take your time, Mr. Harper. I'm sure Master Jason would be pleased to wake up and find you here."

As Roy stood by Jason's bedside, watching the rise and fall of his best friend's chest, he wished more than anything that he could share his strength, his will to fight, and his unwavering support. His grip on Jason's hand was tight, fingers intertwining as if to physically convey the depth of his connection.

With each stroke of his thumb over Jason's palm, Roy hoped for a sign, a flicker of response that would break through the stillness that enveloped the room. Hours passed, marked only by the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor, each sound echoing like a countdown in his mind. Time seemed to stretch into an eternal moment of waiting, his heart heavy with longing.

His voice, a desperate whisper in the quiet room, held a mixture of pain and vulnerability. "Please, Jason… I can't lose you like this." His words hung heavy in the air, carrying with them all the unsaid feelings he had held close for so long.

"Man, there's so much I haven't told you. I need you to wake up... I need to tell you how much I love you."

A choked sob caught in his throat as the weight of his emotions became too much to bear. Tear-filled eyes remained fixed on Jason's still form, as if willing his friend to hear, to respond. "I love you so much, Jay... Please..."

The truth hung in the air, his admission raw and unfiltered. He wasn't sure if Jason could hear him, but he needed to say it, to let the words out into the universe. In the midst of his despair, Roy's grip on Jason's hand tightened even further, a physical manifestation of his anguish, of his plea for life to return to his beloved.

Suddenly, Roy felt his hand being squeezed back. His head snapped up as he rushed even closer to the bed. “Jason?”

A/N

JAYROY JAYROY JAYROY

[just-some-random-blogger]

Death By Bagel

NCT Culinary Student!Mark Lee x Fashion Design Student!Reader Summary: Mark makes a cake cause he's realized he can't lose you to some f-boy. Word Count: 3k+ Warnings: Fluff, childhood au, college au, slowish burn, slight cursing, reallllly fluffy, some broksi-dude action, typos sksksksks, etc.

R E Q U E S T my friend: mark lee, slow burn, friends to lovers

A/N: I wrote a fic that already had like 1k+ word then I LOST IT (i think i deleted it) thus this. It took me 10 years to write this msmsmkskskks. PLEASE TUMBLR IS MESSING WITH ME AND MIXED UP THE ORDER OF SOME OF THE DIALOGUE

“As a doctor, I don’t think you should be doing that,” Mark says, not even bothering to look at his patient seated rudely on the floor. Oop, he’s lying down now.

Mark huffs and looks up from the clay block he was molding on his tray, “YOU’RE SO UNPROFESSIONAL!”

Mark’s mother nearly spits out her coffee upon hearing the words of his five-year-old son. Her husband snorts, “He got that from you.”

The woman throws a look at the man and was supposed to give a snarky retort, up until the sound of the doorbell ringing. She grins from ear-to-ear and dashes to get the door.

When she comes back to the living room, she’s accompanies by another woman and a tiny version of her.

“Markie! Say hello to your Auntie!” Mark’s mom calls.

Mark from the carpeted floor looks up and blinks, examining the stranger-woman and its human-ling. Mark turns to his father who was sat on the couch and receives a nod of approval almost. Mark purses his lips and waves at the woman.

The woman waves back and then crouches down to the little girl, “Baby, say hello to Mark.”

Unwilling, she shakes her head.

“Aw come on, baby. Don’t be shy. Mark over there is a really sweet boy. I knew him when he was in his mommy’s tummy, just like Mark’s mom knew you when you were in mine. You’re the same age so you’ll get along just fine.”

With the unnecessary explanation that gave no justification to the scene whatsoever out of the way, the girl was fooled into peeping up, “Hi, Mark.”

“Hello,” Mark says, not particularly interested, as his patient was still in the midst of dying in his office. He turned to his stuffed toy called Mr. Lion and attempted to stand him up once more.

At this point, the girl makes her way to Mark.

“We’ll be back in two hours, honey. Keep an eye on the children,” Mrs. Lee tells his husband who had been occupied with TV the entire time.

“Yeah. I got this,” he smiles to his wife then goes back to watching.

The bumble bee clad figure sat down to Mark in blue and watched him play.

Mark ignored her for a few seconds, needing to assert all efforts on standing that dumb toy up. Once successful, Mark turns to her, “Do you play doctors?”

Mark was then met with the same lack on enthusiasm. She hums, “I like playing baker doctor.”

All at once, Mark gasps, “ME TOO!”

It was unbeknownst to the children it was oddly specific and the chance of this happening was pretty slim.

And in a blink of an eye, excited giggles erupt in the room, as if they had been having so much fun before this scene. It was here and there the two would become best friends to the very end.

... so I guess it means the reckoning is upon us.

“MARK LEE I SWEAR TO THE FU--” “WHAT! WHAT!?” Mark laughs.

"YOU ATE MY BAGEL! AGAIN!" I growl in a loud whisper, throwing the wrapper at him and his flat head before he could think to dodge it while he annoyingly laughs.

"I asked if I could have it though!" he says, fully knowing his sins.

I glared at him and say lowly, "I thought you were referring to my notes, bread for brains."

Mark snorts loud enough for our teacher to wake up from his nap. Once the class notices, we all pretend to be doing something productive and Mark plays it off with a cough.

"Mr. Lee." Mr. Kim says sternly, clicking his tongue, blinking his eyes rapidly.

Mark finishes coughing and turns to our seated professor, "Yes sir."

"Don't go to school if you're sick and going to cause a racket with your coughing."

Mark nods firmly and Mr. Kim closes his eyes again, mumbling, "page 65 is due tomorrow."

The entire class grumbles. Mark beside me scoffs and makes a face, "Yeah, yeah, Doyoung."

I turn to him and elbow his side.

"Whatever," Mark shakes his head, "professor bunny-teeth won't hear me."

Once class ended, we both get our things and head out for lunch. We walk to our canteen, fussing over assignments, deciding we should do it together later in our mutually free period.

I groan and narow your eyes at him as we have an argument over how he hasn't finished the essay for English, "That's not the point."

"Yo Mark!" a voice calls from afar. Mark and I turn, looking for the voice, and I spot the dimpled senior, Jung Jaehyun, in a table with the rest of his squad.

I nudge Mark and point at the pale guy seated by the corner.

Mark throws him a smile and waves. I follow closely behind him as he walks over to the table. "We're going to sit with them?" I say in some sort of gasp.

"Yeah." Mark replies simply, not bothering to turn to me, "they're cool."

I knit my brows at that and nod, "Yeah I know. But I'm not cute today."

Mark stops in his tracks and throws me a confused look, "what?"

"I didn't put any make-up on today, also I'm pretty sure there's a visible stain somewhere on my jacket, I just don't remember where."

Mark scrunches his face up again, even more confused. "What? How do you... forget a stai-- that's not the point. Why do you wanna look cute today?" He scoffs and continues lowly, "hardly as if you ever look cute."

I let out an annoyed groan and punch Mark's shoulder. "Like when you panicked when Seulgi came over and asked for notes."

Mark openes his mouth, "That is so not the same! Jaehyun's a fuck bo-"

"Just shut up already," I snap and shove him forward so he'd continue walking. "Let's not keep him waiting," I add and mumble, "also I know. Dong Sicheng however is very cute."

Mark chuckles, "he's dated every girl on the dance team."

"Okay, maybe not that cute."

"Ya, Mark," Jaehyun grins and greets the said person with a high-five and chest bump. He turns to me and speaks my name with a smile. I smile back politely and wave.

I'm about to sit next to Sicheng, but Mark shoves me and so I end up sitting on the other side of the bench table with Jaehyun. I turn to Jaehyun with a small, non-awkward smile and shoot Mark a glare. He seems unbothered though.

"So, you up for a round later?" Jaehyun asks Mark.

Mark talks over me, "you know it, dude."

Jaehyun flashes his dimple smile all the stupid girls fall for. I'm only half falling for it cause I'm only half stupid. He raises his brows, "you bought the dough, right?"

This makes me knit my brows.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I really did this time," Mark mumbles quickly. "It's my turn anyway."

Jaehyun gives an off look, "that's literally what you said last time bro."

"Yo, no for real. It's in my bag, if you wanna check."

Jaehyun shakes his head when Mark begins to scramble for it, "no, Lee, it's good. We wouldn't want you friend to get dirty."

Is it just me or do you feel slimey all of a sudden?

Jaehyun then gives me a somewhat, somehow sincere smile, "so. I hear you're in fashion design."

I give a soft chuckle, "yeah. That's me."

"I could tell from a mile away. Mark looks horrible next to your getup."

I look down at my sweater and ripped jeans. Mark exclaims in protest, "shut the hell up, Jae."

I give a soft smile at Jaehyun, "don't know where that comes from but thanks I guess."

Jaehyun chuckles, "I'm kidding," he eyes Mark, "I saw your Fashion Design pin on your bag when you sat down."

"Oooohhhh, haha, okay, that makes sense."

"Ya, Jeff," Sicheng calls for Jaehyun, "it's almost time."

Jaehyun turns to his friend and nods. He turns back to me and Mark, "well, it's nice to meet you. Mark won't put a sock in it even if I beg. See you around, fashionista."

He stands and slaps Mark's back, "see ya later, broski."

"Yeah, bruh," Mark replies.

Once it's just Mark and I, I snap at him and blurt out in a whisper yell, "YOU'RE ON BROSKI LEVEL WITH JUNG JAEHYUN?!"

Mark gives me a weird face, "bruh, I think he calls the principal broski, for real."

I smack Mark, making him whine, "you know what I'm talking about, Mark! And what, are you doing drugs?!?"

He shakes his head in confusion, "Wait, what!? Who the hell told you that?"

"Uhhhhh you were talking about dough and showing up later. Sounds like you owe him money for drugs, Mark."

"??? In what universe did we even mention drugs?? Does this," he slaps his face, "look like a face of a drug addict to you?"

"A gullible idiot maybe."

Mark's jaw drops, "oh wow, okay. I'm done with this conversation." He proceeds to stand attempt to walk away. I scoff, "not on my watch bitch."

Like the true idiot that he is, Mark begins to legit run away from me, like a criminal who stole my cookies. It's embarrassing that he, a man much taller than I, could not even outrun me. I suppose I should be grateful, but this just fortifies my thoughts of him being an idiot even more.

But okay... I wasn't actually expecting this... like... Mark and Jaehyun... like... actually baking bread after school with dough Mark premade at home. Also, uh, Jaehyun looks super cute in an apron that I'm having a mental breakdown. And what's new, so does Mark.

"I can't believe you thought I was a drug dealer," Jaehyun says in a soft pout as he rolls out dough on the marble counter of his friggin large kitchen in his friggin large house. Like dang, I knew he was rich, but he's like Rich™ Rich. Rich with a golden diamond encrusted Rolex watch rich that's in a glass display rich-- wtf.

Mark wheezes in his telltale high pitched laugh as he opens a pack of unsweetened chocolate pellets, "she thought dough was some sort of metaphor or something."

"Cute," they say at the same time. Mark turns to Jaehyun in slight surprise and Jaehyun turns to me. I roll my eyes, though I feel my neck burn. I avert my attention to the scene I was sketching on my pad, Jaehyun and Mark baking croissants. I clear my throat, "I'm just making use of the single braincell between us, cause if he doesn't die falling down the stairs, he's gonna pull some idiotic stuff like baking with Jung Jaehyun."

Oddly, it's Mark that reacts to that with a, "hey!"

Jaehyun rubs his chin on his shoulder, "I also can't believe you think so little of me.'

I break a sweat but decide to answer honestly, "... ... ... You have a reputation."

"Of being a fuck boy?"

Mark loudly transfers the chocolates into a metal bowl, making the two of us snap at him. Mark makes a face, "oh gosh, sorry."

Jaehyun sighs, "well. I admit I get around, but that's only because I get dumped every time."

I raise a brow.

Jaehyun purses his lips, "nah, let's not make this weird. The croissants will be flat."

"Dude," Mark turns to him, "that's literally only because you messed up the recipe."

Jaehyun grits his teeth, "no. It's because Kun's a little teacher's pet and sabotaged me so he could get the best grade."

"No, but like Kun is really nice, he helped me with the fold techinique."

Jaehyun scoffs, "He stole me vanilla extract, Mark. Who does that?!"

"No, listen, he's cool, like, for real--"

"No, you listen, he's a little shit and--"

The two begin to bicker like a married couple, and I begin to draw inspiration form the scene to design some random sketches of wedding dresses.

I look back to the two and still can't get over the fact that I learned Jaehyun was a culinary arts major with my best friend, and that I was currently in the Jung's boojie home because I thought Mark was buying drugs from him. Not what I was expecting at all my day to go like, but I'm not mad this is how it went.

"No, no, no, no," Jaehyun says. He turns to me and points, "let's just get an outside opinion. Babe, what's your favorite color?"

"BABE?!" Mark barks.

I take a moment to reply. I blink slowly, "uhh... pink?"

Jaehyun bites his lower lip and claps his flour covered hands, "Right. Pink croissants it is."

Mark shoots him a glare and turns to me, back to Jaehyun, "she has a name."

Jaehyun nods, "yeah, and she wants pink croissants."

Mark makes a face and Jaehyun examines it, chuckling under his breath. "Wah, you two are something, huh."

No one really responds.

We began to always eat lunch with Jaehyun and his friends. It's funny cause I realized Jaehyun, although I still firmly believed he was out to get nasty with every other girl he sees, he was actually just like Mark. A total loser with a love for cooking.

"Hey," Mark says with a snippy tone.

I give him a look and suddenly receive a paper bag to my face. Mark sits on his chair next to me, as per usual. I smell the thing before I realize what it is. It's a freshly baked bagel. I perk up and smile, "Aw, you baked me a bagel?"

Mark raises his upper lip, "no. Jaehyun did."

I knit my brows, "what? Why?"

Mark narrows his brows, "do you, like, like him?"

I give him a look. I take a bite of the bagel, making Mark look at me in disbelief. I answer, "You do know I only hang with him cause you do, right?"

"Then why'd you eat the bagel then?"

"Uh, a number of reasons. 1) it's a bagel, 2) free food, 3) I'm starving, 4) it smells amazingggg."

Mark does a face, "fair. I've been meaning to ask how he does his seasoning for a while now too." He releases a breath, "and anyway, I'm pretty sure he made a bagel cause I told him you liked them. Never talking about you to him anymore though."

I look at him, "why do you talk about me so much to him anyway?"

"Uh because you're amazing," Mark says instinctively.

I feel my heart skip at that. I coo and place my hands on my chest, "wait that's really sweet."

Mark looks at me. His face begin to shift, "too bad it's a lie- haha."

I give him a look and rebut, "jerk."

"Loser."

As quickly as I found out about Jaehyun being Mark's friend, that's about as quickly as I found out he didn't like hanging out with him anymore. It's kind of a shame I never got to go back to his boojie house.

There was this one encounter I had with Jaehyun though... which was a little weird, not gonna lie.

He was waiting for me outside my Tailoring class, smiling and waving when he saw me. I Reluctantly reciprocated and walked over to him.

He releases a breath, "I've been waiting for about 20 minutes for you. I didn't know when your class would end."

I raise my brows, "you could have asked?"

"Well I would need your number for that, and that would have ruined the surprise," he pulled out a brown paper bag, reminiscing the same one Mark chucked at my face.

"I made you two this time," he smiles.

I take a moment to reply, "you don't have to make me bagels, Jaehyun."

He grabs my hand, "yeah, but I want something out of ya," he places the bagels in my hand. He proceeds to lead us off and we begin to walk down the hall.

Truth be told, it's a little scary that his ulterior motive is up in the air. Jaehyun places his hands in his pockets, "I like your dress, by the way."

I smile, "thanks. I made it."

He smiles and nods, "right. That makes sense as to why it suits you well."

I can't help but blush at that, and simultaneously feel conscious when I realize a bunch of girls in my course are looking at me and Jaehyun as we strut down the hall.

"So, what did you want, Jaehyun?"

"Well, I clearly wanted to ask you out."

"..."

"..."

Jaehyun smiles and give a soft laugh, "is it so ground breaking?"

"... Uh..."

He sniggers, "hey, you can say no. I mean I hope you don't but you can." Jaehyun leans in and raises his hands, "I won't like it, but a man should take rejection from a lady well."

I turn to him as he straightens up. I turn to the bagels he made me and bring it back to him. He laughs, "no, I made them for you really. It's not poisoned, in fact it's made with love."

I visibly react to that, which makes Jaehyun wheeze. I can't help but laugh back, "that was hella tacky."

"Worth a shot though," he says. "Good luck with Mark."

I look at him with silence and he chuckles, "ya, you can't fool me."

I'm about to retort but then Jaehyun gets called by one of the frats dudes I identify as Johnny Seo. Jaehyun does a curtsy and clicks his tongue, "see ya later babez."

"You know, I would have said yes if you didn't do stuff like that."

Jaehyun purses his lips, "no you wouldn't."

I shrug, "worth a shot though."

Jaehyun places a hand on his chest, dramatically calling, "Uh, rejection hurts, man."

Yeah, I never went to Jaehyun's boojie house ever again.

Silver lining though was Mark's dorm smelled equally as nice because of all the food he cooks, although it came with a whiff of axe body spray from his roommate, Lucas. It's cool though, he was almost never around for me to smell it in its whole intensity.

"Aite," Mark calls from his side of the dorm. I perk up from the two seater dining table they had and turn to Mark who was covering the cake he was making for his finals.

"Don't, like, peek, okay. I want you to see the cake all at once and give me your honest reaction to it. Please, like, all my lives kinda depend on it."

"How many lives do you have?"

"9, I'm pretty sure."

I stand from my seat, "not you faking your life as a cat, but get it I guess."

Mark raises a hand at me as I walk over, "can you not, I'm high-key panicking right now."

"Over what? You literally made a box of donuts for your midterms and it looked better than Misty Mreme! I'm sure your cake is hot."

"It was in the minifridge for a day. I mean it barely fit cause of all of Lucas' mountain dew."

I groan, "just show me it, Mark Lee!"

Mark whined and dashes over to me, grabbing my shoulders, "okay, but like, don't be mean about it. I swear, I might cry."

I give a sound and fake cough, "it's ugly."

Mark doesn't respond to that particular jab, "I'm serioussss. Please be kind, okay?"

I look at Mark's nervous face and give a soft pout, "Markie, please, not that I think it would be ugly, but I promise you don't have to be nervous about my reaction."

He isn't soothed by that, but he does release a sigh, "okay. So for context, Mr. Moon wanted the cake to be one or two tiers, but I went with one, cause there aint no way I'm going to the other side of the campus to freeze a two tiered cake. Then, the theme was something from your childhood, so, I, uh, thought this was fitting. The exam is 60 percent decoration, 40 percent taste by the way."

Mark gives me a hesitant look, but steps way for me to see it. I then see a heart shaped, medium sized cake in my favorite pastel pink color. By the top there's a little boy on the floor playing with a toy oven set and little girl in a bumble bee dress, holding a stethoscope. At the bottom of the cake, there were jelly letters spelling out, "I like you."

I cup my cheeks at the sight of it and feel my eyes start to well at the sentiment.

Wait... was this really happening?

Mark heaves in and out, "okay, so like when Jaehyun began to like hit on you, that sucked pretty hard because he's known for getting girls and I thought maybe he'd get you too and I got panicky. Anyway, I....... have liked you since we were kids... And... I know you probably don't feel the same way but I have to try, you know.... Yolo."

My feel my tears retract from what I hear. I rub my eyes. I turn to Mark and find his nervous face. "Did you just say yolo in your confession, Mark?"

He looks like he's about to throw up.

I can't help but chuckle and pout, "dude..."

I prolong the moment. Mark gets even more nervous as he repeats softly, "dude..."

"We could have dated in grade school all this time."

It takes a moment to register in his head.

Like, a really long moment.

I sigh, "Mark! I like you too, dummy."

He freezes and blinks. His face begins to burn. He breaks into a soft smile, "nice."

I break into a laugh.

"... Uh... So... Can I like... Kiss you?"

I snort and feel my own cheeks begin to burn, "I think you should refrigerate your cake first."

Mark snaps out of this trance, "oh shoot, you-" I give him a quick peck on the lips.

He is dumbfounded.

I feel butterflies go wild in my stomach.

"I'll wait over there for when you've fixed that."

Mark watches as I walk away, "yooo.... That's not fair though."

[hajimesh]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚘̄ 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 // 𝟷.𝟺𝚔 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; 𝘶 𝘳 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘶. 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘪'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘴 𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺

𝐚/𝐧; 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 @animatedrapture 𝘣𝘤 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘮. 𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰

-ˏˋ𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 ♡

The stands were filled with Inarizaki students –marching band, orchestra, and cheerleading team included– making their cheers reverberate all over the gym.

The thrill in the atmosphere was almost palpable.

Atsumu’s eyes raked the over the stands, choosing to ignore the squealing group of fangirls, and just focusing on the most familiar faces. Until something caught his attention.

It so happened that Suna was just walking by, the setter instantly gripping his shoulder and forcing him to stand next to him.

"Damn Suna, check it, that girl in the cheerleading team is hot."

Suna followed Atsumu’s stare, his eyes landing on you.

Wearing your cheerleading uniform, you stood with a radiant smile, your hands resting on your hips, and the red pom-poms shaking every time you moved around.

On the outside, Suna remained impassive. But on the inside? he felt as if he were having a war flashback.

“Suna-kun!”

He saw you skip down the hall and towards him, a scowl automatically appearing on his face.

You stopped in front of him, a fascinated look in your eyes. “Good job at last week’s game! Oh, you're such a good middle blocker!”

He answered with a tired sigh, it was way to early for your ridiculous comments.

“Ne, Suna-kun,” you whispered, inching closer to him. “Spike me next time, daddy.”

He groaned internally. Why couldn’t you be a Miya twins fangirl? Why did it have to be him?

You laughed when you saw his scowl deepening.

He had no idea of how much you enjoyed annoying him.

Suna was brought back to reality when he felt a hand clapping him on the back.

"I should ask for her number, dontcha think sunarin?" Atsumu’s eyes crinkled as he smiled.

Somehow, hearing the setter’s words irked him, making him speak before thinking twice.

“She doesn't like you."

He had never wanted to take back his words so badly, but the harm was already done.

"The fuck you mean? Of course she likes me!” Atsumu pointed at you with his finger. “She's a cheerleader for our team!"

A snarky smile made its way to Suna’s lips. "Sorry to break it to you, but she has a crush on me.”

Atsumu was left astounded, finding Suna’s comment oddly interesting while it bruised his ego at the same time.

Inarizaki won the match, no surprise. And after collecting your stuff, you made your way towards Suna, not missing the opportunity to tease him.

He saw you from a mile away and mentally prepared himself for whatever you were going to say to him.

You sported an elated grin, your hands clasped behind your back. “You were so good today, Suna-kun! Congrats on the win!”

To his surprise, you didn’t even give him enough time to shift his impassive face into a scowl, strutting off as your short cheerleader skirt swayed behind you.

As much as it pained him to admit it, he was not letting Atsumu get his hands on you.

- - - - -

It had been a few days after the game and Atsumu still had Suna’s words fresh in his mind. He spent the entire weekend thinking them over and over until he came to a verdict.

Suna was lying.

Because there’s no way someone as pretty as you would be crushing on him, right? Not on the expresionless middle blocker. Nope. It didn’t even make any sense.

Suna, observant as always, noticed the setter staring at him the entire practice. He brushed it off and continued with his own thing. He was bending down to fetch his water bottle when he heard him.

“Ah, Kita-san! Yer quite familiar with the cheer team, yea?”

Suna’s ears perked up.

What was Atsumu’s pea-sized brain thinking!?

Atsumu felt quite proud of himself for tying the loose ends. Kita had to know you, he was the captain after all.

Said captain looked confused but nodded, not understanding where Atsumu words were coming from.

“Ya know that girl with h/c hair? I think she has e/c eyes also, like, this tall?” he gestured with his hands as he described you.

Suna’s glare didn’t go unnoticed by Atsumu, whose grin widened when he saw Kita nodding in affirmation.

“That’s l/n y/n, same year as you. Top of her class too,” suddenly, the aura around Kita became threatening. “She’s a smart girl.”

Oh, right. Atsumu thought. L/n y/n, one of Inarizaki’s top students. Your name was always on the highest rankings in both class and school.

Yeah, Suna must be lying because there’s no way a pretty and smart, top of her class girl like you had a crush on him.

Suna wasn’t doing any better. He almost choked on his water when he compared Kito-san’s version of you against the version he knew.

“Suna-kun!” you came up to him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

He glared at you, knowing that, by the way the apples of your cheeks flushed pink, it was going to be a bad one.

“Why don’t you be the iceberg and I’ll be the Titanic ship?” you said with a straight face, your voice lowering to a whisper. “So I can go down on you.”

That had to be the most disgusting yet amusing joke he had ever heard.

How and where the hell did you get the guts to say those things to him!?

His usual deadpanned expression faltered slightly, wanting to laugh so badly but he wouldn’t give you the satisfaction. So even if he was dying to laugh, he only rolled his eyes.

You finally started laughing, taking out the hand you had been hiding behind your back, and placing a jelly fruit stick on his desk. You waved him goodbye with a dashing smile and walked away.

Suna absolutely hated the way his heart seemed to skip against his chest, the words ‘you’re so annoying’ burning in his mouth.

- - - - -

Atsumu nudged Suna, “Oi, yer girlfriend’s coming here.”

He immediately looked towards the direction Atsumu had pointed, and indeed there you were. Walking from the bleachers towards them.

Inarizaki’s game was about to start and it shouldn't have been a surprise to see you there.

Suna flipped him off and looked away as he answered, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

He watched you from the corner of his eye as he drank from his water bottle. Your steps halted in front of Kita, your face all serious as you listened intently to whatever he was saying.

What could you possibly be talking about with Kita-san? Suna thought.

But his thoughts were interrupted when he saw you smile and Kita reciprocating the gesture.

Huh?

Atsumu saw his chance and took it eagerly, walking to where you and Kita were. His classic confident demeanor made you raise an eyebrow.

“Hey, doll. I’m Miya Atsumu, nice to meet ya,” he flaunted a cocky smirk, especially because he knew Suna was watching.

“L/n-san, this is our team’s setter,” Kita introduced you.

With a smile and a hand-shake, you greeted him, earning a grin from the setter.

“Why don’t ya give me yer number? I want to take you out,” Atsumu casually asked.

Suna was still listening, waiting expectantly –just as the other two males next to you– for your answer.

Your head tilted to the side, pondering the offer but you ended up scrunching up your face.

“Nah, I don't want your fangirls after me,” with a shake of your head, you turned him down. Grinning back at Atsumu and the teasing tone evident in your voice.

Atsumu visibly deflated at your reply. “Just give me yer number then, let’s be friends.”

It was your turn to be stunned. Your stare became calculating, intimidating even, and that was when both second years suddenly understood how Kita and you were acquainted.

“Talk to me again next time and I might consider it,” you said with a genuine smile, so genuine it almost knocked Atsumu off his feet.

Atsumu smiled back at you with a nod and remembered why he even came near you, “By the way, Suna mentioned ya have a crush on ‘im, that true?”

You were caught off guard, he had made his question sound so innocent. Did Suna really mention you to his teammate?

“Did he now?” you say, finally looking at him from behind Atsumu and Kita.

Suna was fuming, ready to rip Atsumu’s head once he got a hold on him.

“That’s none of your business, Atsumu,” Kita sighed with an apologetic look towards you.

You giggled, brushing off the situation. Bowing before Kita, you started to take your leave. “Thank you, Kita-senpai, I'll relay the message to them!”

You waved at them, and then at Suna, goodbye. A satisfied smirk being the last thing he saw before you finally turned your back to him.

He growled under his breath because all he could focus on was the stupidly annoying, top of her class, pretty girl that was crushing on him.

And whom he might be feeling something for as well.

[dherzogblog]

The Birth of The Daily Show: 25 Years of Fake News and Moments of Zen

It was July of 1995 and I had left MTV to become President of Comedy Central. It was the basic cable equivalent of going from the NY Yankees to an expansion team. I was on the job just two weeks when I received a call from Brillstein Grey the high powered managers of Bill Maher, host of one of the networks few original programs, "Politically Incorrect". We were informed Bill and his show would leave the network when his contract expired in 12 months. It was a done deal. Bill wanted to take his show to the "big leagues" at ABC where he would follow Night Line. Comedy Central was left jilted. Terrible news for a network still trying to establish itself. We had a year to figure out how to replace him and the clock was ticking. So began the path to The Daily Show.

It was very much a fledgling Comedy Central I joined, available in barely 35 million homes, desperately seeking an identity and an audience. It was just over three years old, born into a shot gun wedding that joined two struggling and competing comedy networks, HBO’s Comedy Channel and Viacom’s HA!, Watching them both stumble out of the gate, the cable operators forced them to merge, telling them: "We only need one comedy channel, you guys figure it out”. After some contentious negotiations the new channel was born and the red headed step child of MTV and HBO set out to find the pop culture zeitgeist its parents had already expertly navigated. The network had yet to define itself. The programming consisted mainly of old stand up specials from the likes of Gallagher (never underestimate the appeal of a man smashing watermelons), a hodgepodge of licensed movies (“The God’s Must be Crazy and The Cheech and Chong trilogy were mainstays) and Benny Hill reruns. The networks biggest hit by far was the UK import “Absolutely Fabulous”, better know as “AbFab”. Comedy Central boasted a handful of original shows, including the wonderfully sublime "SquiggleVision" of “Dr. Katz”, the sketch comedy "Exit 57" (starring the then unknown Amy Sedaris and Stephen Colbert) and of course Maher’s "Politically Incorrect". In retrospect I don’t think Bill got enough credit for pioneering the idea of political comedy on mainstream TV. Back then he was the only one doing it.

Politically Incorrect performed just fine, but got more critical attention than ratings. It was a panel show, and I had something a bit different in mind to replace it. I knew we needed a flagship, a network home base, something akin to ESPN's Sports Center where viewers could go at the end of a the day for our comedic take on everything that happened in the last 24 hours….."a daily show". I had broad idea for it in my head. I would describe it as part "Weekend Update", part Howard Stern, with a dash of "The Today Show" on drugs complete with a bare boned format to keep costs low so we could actually afford to produce it. We could open with the headlines covering the day's events (our version of a monologue), followed by a guest segment (we wouldn't need to write jokes...only questions!), and finish with a taped piece. Simple, right? We just needed someone to help flesh out our vision.

Comedy Central was a a second tier cable channel then and considered a bit of a joke (no pun intended). It had minuscule ratings, no heat and even less money to spend. Producers were not lining up to work with there. Eileen Katz ran programming for the channel and the two of us began pitching this idea to every producer who would listen. One of the first people we approached was Madeleine Smithberg, an ex Letterman producer and had overseen "The Jon Stewart Show" for us at MTV. We thought she was perfect for the role. “You can’t do this, you can’t afford this, you don't have the stomach for this, it will never work ” Madeliene said when we met with her. We could not convince her to take the gig. Ok then....we moved on. The problem was we heard that same refrain from everybody. No one wanted the job. So after weeks being turned down by literally EVERYONE, I said to Eileen: “We have to go back to Madeleine and convince her to do this with us"!

Part our pitch to her was we would go directly to series. There would be no pilot. The show was guaranteed to go on air. We had decided this show was our to be our destiny and we had to figure it out come hell or high water. As a 24 hour comedy channel, if we couldn't figure out a way to be funny and fresh every day...what good were we? We told Madeliene we were committed to putting the show on the air and keeping it there till we got it right (for at least a year anyway). That, plus some gentle arm twisting got her to sign on. Shortly after that, Lizz Winstead did too.

Madleiene and Lizz very quickly landed on their inspired notion of developing the show and format as a news parody. It brought an immediate focus and a point of view to the process . All of the sudden things started to take shape and coming to life. Great ideas started flowing fast and furious while an amazing collection of funny and talented began to come on board. Madeliene and Lizz were off to the races. Now all we needed was a host.

The prime time version of ESPN's Sports Center was hosted by Dan Patrick and Keith Olbermann back then and it was must see cable TV. But I had recently started to notice another guy hosting the show's late night edition. He was funny, with a snarky delivery reminiscent of Dennis Miller. His name was Craig Kilborn. On the phone with CAA agent Jeff Jacobs one day, I asked if he knew happened to know who repped him? “I do" he said. "We just signed him”. Within days he was in my office along with Madeleine, Lizz, and Eileen who were all a bit skeptical about the tall blond guy with the frat boy vibes sitting across from them. After opening the meeting with a few off color comments that would probably get him cancelled today (an early warning sign fo sure), Craig ultimately won them over and we had our host.

FUN FAC#1: Minutes after the news of Craig's hiring went public, Keith Olberman's agent called me directly to ask why we hadn't considered hiring him?

Ok, we had a host and producers...but what to call it? After sifting through dozens of ideas for a title, Madeleine called me one day and said, "I think we should just call it what we've been calling it all along...."The Daily Show". As we approached our launch date we taped practice shows and took them out to focus groups to get real life feedback. The groups hated it.... I mean with a red hot hate. They hated Craig, the format, the jokes, everything. We were crushed and dejectedly looked around at the room at one another. "Now what?" “Either they’re wrong, or we are". I said I think they are...but it doesn’t matter, we're doing this!" We never looked back.

The show took off quickly garnering some quick buzz and attention, we felt like we had crashed the party. Well, sort of. We had no shortage of fun, growing pains and drama along the way. The Daily Show version 1.0 was about to unravel. In a December 1997 magazine interview Craig made some truly offensive and inappropriate remarks about Lizz and female members of the staff. Whether it was poor attempt at humor or just plain misogynist (or both) is beyond the point. It was all wrong, very wrong. Craig was suspended for a week without pay. Lizz left the show. In the moment I chose to protect the show and its talent more so than Lizz. That was wrong too. It's more than cringe worthy looking back now, and I regret not making some better decisions then. My loyalty to our host was later "rewarded" when in the Spring of 1998 Kilborn's team, a la Bill Maher, unceremoniously informed us he had signed a deal to follow Letterman on CBS when his contract expired at the end of the year. No discussion, a done deal. Comedy Central jilted again. Like Maher, Kilborn wanted his shot at the network big leagues and we had a little over six months to figure out how to replace him. We all know how that chapter ended. That search would eventually reunite us with Jon Stewart who along with The Daily Show took Comedy Central and basic cable to the "the big leagues" on their own terms, redefining late night comedy in the process The rest, as they say, is "Fake News" history.

Fun Fact #2: before approaching Jon (who I did not originally think would be interested) I initially offered the job to a chunkier, largely unknown Jimmy Kimmel, fresh off his co hosting duties on "Win Ben Stein's Money" ...only to have him turn us down.

My fascination with late night began as a kid. I remember how exciting it was to stay up to sneak a peek at the Carson monologue and watch him do spit takes with his chummy Hollywood guests. Later on I also loved the heady adult conversation Dick Cavett would have with everyone from Sly Stone to Groucho Marx. But it was the comedic revolution of Saturday night Live in 1975, followed by Letterman's game changing show in 1981 that truly established late night as the coolest place on the television landscape. I could only dream of one day being part of it.

25 years on, I couldn’t be more proud of The Daily Show and its legacy. Those days helping build it alongside Madeleine, Lizz, Eileen and the team were among the most satisfying (and fun) experiences I have ever had. It was thrilling to take a shot at the late night landscape and try and make our mark, especially when no one thought we could.

I am prouder still of what Trevor Noah and his staff have achieved since they took the hand off from Jon, evolving and growing the show through a new voice and lens. I think my personal "Moment Of Zen" will last as long as Trevor remains behind the desk, allowing me to selfishly boast of having hired every host this award winning and culture defining franchise has ever had.

25 years later. it remains as relevant as ever, a bona fide late night institution, standing shoulder to shoulder with all the great shows that inspired us to start.