#that spark of... maybe not brilliance but just intense inspiration

[minamaybe]

does anyone else ever revisit their old work, and ideas, and worldbuilding, and get the panicked feeling that they passed their prime and will never write this well again? asking for a friend haha

[lilyhoshikawa]

i've probably asked this before but top 5 persona characters!

Dndjbdjd u have!! And it remains a toughie dbdjdbdb and very subjective depending on my mood but I think I’ve at least nailed down a solid group

1. Futaba. She’s extremely well written, complex, and so much fun. She has intense moments of severe traumatic pain, cute and inspiring moments of shy confidence and sparks of brilliance, and fun mischief moments of little gremlin sister. The game doesn’t explore her to her fullest potential imo, but that’s what Deja Vu is for. It means a lot to me to have a character like Futaba around with her moments of serious, painful trauma and the gradual process of healing and recovery, the clear anxiety and sensory struggles she has due to her autism and psychosis, and the lovely and adorable moments she’s able to have with the main cast. Plus she’s a fashion icon (usually. Atlus as per their brand are creeps at times) A cute gay gal with a lot of heart and depth and love for her family.

2. Akechi. Definitely would break the number one spot if this was Jae’s list and for good reason. Even within the existing canon of persona 5, Akechi is by far the most complex and interesting character. Morally gray, difficult and messy. But I think we really struck gold with them in Deja Vu and I fully intend to ensure we keep striking gold! There’s so much stuff left on the table with Akechi’s in-game interpretation and so much muddled in the popular consensus model of fandom, but moving beyond that there’s so much to explore from new angles. I truly think it opens up a whole new experience when u start to look at them not as a meme or tumblr “sexyman” (Akechi is like, 16-17 btw) or an edgy joker-type character but as a teenager with trauma, an abuse victim, and a morally gray character making bad choices in a desperate situation. Beyond that, I think- with my bias- that looking at them as a transfem or trans character at all adds a lot to our interpretation as well. There’s a lot of really bittersweet, vivid and beautiful stuff to be drawn out of their story and I’m glad every time we’re able to drown out the stigma and do something amazing with them.

3. Minato/Minako. I don’t consider them the same character but for convenience and ease I grouped them here bc they occupy the same story role. Persona 3 is just a game I’ll never get over. Maybe it’s because I played it during a very developmental time in my life, because of the nostalgic memories I have for it, but I think there’s more to it than that. It’s a beautiful game about death and grief and remorse and resignation. It’s a game about suicide, the meaning of life, making peace, choosing hope. This is the persona game where the messaging in the game itself is the strongest in my opinion and it’s no better encapsulated by the protags and their stances on death. Minato, a depressed loner who doesn’t fear death but cannot truly live, and Minako, who (in my interpretation anyway) loves the beauty and joy of life even as she can’t find herself fully able to become attached to it knowing it’s all finite. Characters broken by the existential dread of life, who learn to hope. Who learn there is something worth fighting for anyway.

4. Ann. She’s… god, she’s probably received the worst treatment of any persona character, and that’s a category with some stiff competition from the likes of Naoto, Rise and Haru. The game tells a compelling and beautiful story about an abuse victim who chooses to fight to protect her dearest (girl)friend, who chooses to spare her abuser for the sake of a greater good, who is so fucking angry but so very invested in doing good and bringing about justice. And then? It sticks her in a skin-tight catsuit, sidelines her and treats her as a ditzy comic relief character, and makes her the target of constant sexual harassment and ogling by the player and characters alike. Ann occupies the same territory that many Lovers characters in the series have, but it’s really at its ugliest with her given her history. It’s a gigantic hypocrisy. And if the game won’t do right by her, then god damn it, vane and I will. An abuse victim with a story to tell and a heart as big as the fires of her rage. And she will always have deserved so much better.

5. This is the flex spot for me and usually a toughie. In the past I think I’ve given this slot to Naoto, who I continue to have a soft spot for due to awakening my childhood transness, but I’ve really soured on their story and persona 4 as a whole more and more over time, become more convinced that many of its elements need discarding entirely. I’ve also given the slot to Morgana, because kitty, but the reality is that his arc doesn’t stand out to me whatsoever. This time the slot definitely goes to Kasumi, who is undoubtedly one of my favorite persona characters just… with massive, massive caveats. I can’t in good conscience put her anything higher than 5 because… almost everything I like about her is technically non-canon. Kasumi’s treatment in the game isn’t just bad- it is, don’t get me wrong, she’s a victim of disgusting abuse and psychological meddling- it’s actively destructive. The game does a fantastic job of coming up with an interesting and fun character and then blowing that up to give you the thrill of an exciting twist. Kasumi up to the third semester is a complete delight with fun scenes and a charming personality and dynamic with the other characters, including the wonderful and often overlooked detail of being Akechi’s only real friend. And then all of that is utterly discarded to create a twist to shock the audience, throwing away the character we had to replace her entirely with somebody else, someone we are expected to see a simply her “true self” but is actually more like a separate personality altogether. I don’t know how vane managed to salvage her jumbled mess of an arc so well in Deja Vu, but by god did she do it. It’s only thanks to vane’s wonderful interpretation that I can enjoy Kasumi as a character at ALL without having the unreality kick in and launch a fucking anxiety meltdown. Vane’s managed to make a wrangled concept for a character into two new incredible characters who are both delightful and so much fun every single scene they’re in. Deja Vu readers once again continue winning.

[the-littlest-goblin]

Shadowgast prompt: Essek was spying on the dinner convo with Trent (shhhh I know he probably has anti scrying wards all over that tower but idc), his reactions to hearing Trent justifying his abuse as love (maybe with thoughts about his own family situation?)

It’s angst time, folks.

______________________________________________________________

The first time, he was able to justify it to himself.

He didn’t want to contact any of the Mighty Nein directly, not with how they had left things, but he still had to know they were ok. He had to. 

He told himself that he would cast the spell just to test that it reached its target, to confirm they were alive. Maybe a quick peek to make sure they weren’t in immediate peril. Perfectly fine, not an invasion of privacy. 

The next few times were… less defensible. 

It became a pattern: Scry on one of them. Reassure himself that they were all alive. Vow not to do it again. Spend another week with a stifled fear whispering at the back of his mind, growing louder each passing day that was not interrupted by a cheery voice invading his mind with some inane message. Give in. Scry again.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to cast it on Caleb this time. A previous scry confirmed that Caleb no longer wears his anti-detection amulet, but even without it, he was able to resist when Essek attempted to spy on him directly. He should pick a surer target, or risk wasting the spell.

But Caleb remains his focus as he completes the incantation, and miracle of miracles, he feels his magic break through Caleb’s mental defenses a split-second before the scry overtakes his vision.

There are flashes of a bustling city, Empire architecture everywhere. The spell homes in on an imposing wizard’s tower and then zooms into a room inside, crystallizing on a red-haired figure seated at a lavish dining table.

Caleb is wearing the same finery he sported in Nicodranas on that night, and the sight of it sends an uncomfortable jolt through Essek. He shoves the memories aside. Focus. This is a spell that requires full concentration.

From the blurred edges of the scry, a voice reaches Essek’s ears—a sickening, familiar voice.

“...the prodigy I always knew he was. While some students take direct tutelage and study, some are unique in how they best develop: through self-discovery, others inspired through hardship.”

Trent is seated a few feet away from Caleb, far enough that he is barely a blur of pale skin and dark robe in Essek’s vision. Regardless, his insipid voice is recognizable enough on its own, with or without the unfortunate visage that normally accompanies it.

Essek feels his mouth curl uncontrollably into a sneer as Trent continues in the course of whatever it is he’s monologuing about this time.

"Historically, the most talented mages have indeed walked this path, or the greatest ambitions come from those who have endured the dark and crawled their way back."

Veth, her form equally hazy as Ikithon’s, pipes up from the other side of the table, “So you're apologizing, then?”

Beau responds, her tone and diction unmistakable even though her visual is fully out of the limits of Essek’s scry. “No, it sounds like he's trying to take fucking credit.”

Apologizing for what? Taking credit for what? Curiosity bubbles up in Essek, insatiable and undeniable.

Through all this, Caleb is the only clear thing he can see, and Essek watches as his face contorts itself in pain—not the wailing, open-mouthed countenance of physical injury, but the subdued, tight-lipped expression of internal anguish. He is looking in Trent’s direction.

There is misery behind his eyes. There is also hatred.

Trent is speaking again. 

"Forgive me, Bren.” Essek’s brain does a momentary double-take at the unfamiliar name, but it doesn’t take much to put the pieces together. 

"I could see your gifts, and your faults and limitations. To truly grow, you needed to be broken and left to build yourself. It took longer than we anticipated, but when you were ready, we turned on the light and showed you the door."

Without more context, it is impossible to fully understand this conversation, even for someone as shrewd as Essek. But though he does not know the exact nature of Caleb and Trent’s history, or what it means when Trent produces a symbol of the Arch Heart, or why Caleb appears even more distraught when he looks at it, Essek can still recognize the dynamics at play here. A slimy, squirming disgust curls in his gut, like the unctuous voice of Trent made manifest.

I understand the pressure of being young, and the expectation. Caleb had said this to him once, a thousand years ago, on the happiest night of Essek’s life. He had sensed the kinship between them long before that, the shared spark of brilliance, of curiosity, of a life shaped by cruelly pragmatic hands. 

He had replied, Experience is what hardens you, prepares you for the worst. I think you're prepared for more than you give yourself credit for, Caleb. He knows now, with absolute certainty, that he was correct. Yet another thing they have in common.

Trent is still talking. "And I cannot tell you how proud of you I am—we are. And I know you hate me, Bren. Hate what I've put you through, and I accept those feelings. For it was a hard choice for me to make. What I did, though, I did out of love."

There’s an immediate scoff—Jester, Essek thinks, though it’s hard to tell. Whoever it was, Essek wholeheartedly agrees.

No one who claims that their actions were done out of love has ever said so sincerely. If they have to justify it as such, then it wasn’t real love. Essek knows this for certain, having been on both sides of the matter, and also finally understanding what real love actually looks like.

He’s heard selfishness pitched as altruism, cruelty twisted to sound like mercy, has had as much said to his face by those who claim to love him, but whom he fully believes care nothing for him beyond his abilities and the services he can provide. The greater good has been invoked in the name of so many evil acts throughout history.

Which is exactly why he has never tried to delude himself, or others, that his own terrible deeds were done out of good intentions. Anything can sound justified with the right turns of phrase; that is half his job as the Shadowhand. That doesn’t make any of it true, or make the perpetrator any less blameworthy.

“To what end? To use me?” Caleb asks. Essek can’t help but admire the steady strength of his voice, though he knows he has no right to the pride that fills his chest at hearing it.

"No, to show you what you are capable of.” Trent’s voice is full of intensity, sounding almost desperate to make Caleb understand. "It was your parents' wish when I told them of the spark that I saw within you. They asked me to do whatever it took to help you realize it, for the glory of your family, and for the Empire.”

For the Den, Essek. For the Dynasty. How many times has he heard appeals to family and legacy and patriotism? From the Queen ordering her soldiers to battle; from the Umavi demanding nothing short of perfection from her children, whatever is takes to achieve it. How would they feel, to know their most detested enemies use indistinguishable rhetoric?

“I did just that, as much as it hurt to hurt you. It is the greater man who puts the needs of others over himself, Bren. And this nation needs you."

With that, Essek’s vision fades into black as the scry reaches its end. The image of Caleb’s pained expression stays imprinted behind his eyelids even as he blinks them open back to his candlelit laboratory. 

The sick feeling does not dissipate. It is joined by the sour taste of bile in the back of Essek’s mouth as his mind replays pieces of what he heard over and over again.

It’s not verbatim what’s been said to him in the past, but it comes from the same crop of manipulation.

There is nothing Essek can do to help Caleb, nothing whatsoever. Despite this, a part of him yearns to teleport to Rexxentrum right this second, damn the chances of a mishap, and damn the fact that if he arrives in the Empire successfully, he is sure to be arrested or killed on sight.

What ultimately shuts the impulse down is reminding himself that, even if he could get there and evade capture, it is highly unlikely that Caleb would be happy to see him.

He really hopes the Mighty Nein send him a message soon.

[tjlikesprettythings]

Joshua Tree Playlist-A Macriley Fic

So I’ve done it again, not sure what’s wrong with me or where this came from but enjoy my obsession. Thanks for the motivation and support from my other posts. I’m still waiting for my invite from Ao3 but wanted to share this monster with you guys. 

This fic was inspired by music that I thought fit the general tone of this story, so I decided to make a spotify playlist linked Joshua Tree Playlist hence the name. Now of course you guys don’t have to listen to it, I know we all have different preferences, but I would recommend listening to the last song by Dylan Schneider “Wannabe” so you get the full context of what I was trying to write. I also mention the songs that I recommend listening to. Well anyways Enjoy and do let me know what you think!

This is very long, just a heads up! Please let me know if I should continue writing. 

Joshua Tree Playlist

Chapter 1: Day 1

Mac sat on the deck after his run, another sleepless night. The nightmares felt more and more real each day. Looking out on the early morning LA skyline he felt like a stranger in his own life. There was so much anger in him that he didn’t know what to do with himself. The loss, the tragedy that was his life felt like a weight he couldn’t bear. He’d give anything to go back to that pressure chamber in Georgia again instead of this, at least things made sense then. He was spiralling, he was aware. Scrubbing his hands across his face he let another breath pass. He didn’t hear her coming but saw her shapely bronze legs standing in front of him dressed in khaki shorts and a black singlet one hand holding a backpack and the other on her hip. It was definitely early for her to be up, especially on an off day. 

He raised an eyebrow at her, “what’s up Riles?” 

“Get up, we’re going on a trip.” She simply said swinging the backpack at his feet. 

“What?” he was confused by the situation unfolding in front of him, maybe he was dreaming? 

She turned to walk back into the house, “You heard me Macgyver, get your ass in the car in 5!”

He stood up and swiped the backpack off the floor and chased after her. She was already in the truck sunglasses pulled down with her arm out of the window, fingers drumming against the door. “Riley.”

She nodded her head in the direction of the car, “come on, we haven’t got all day! Get in!”

He could have stood his ground but honestly, he was too tired to argue with her. So he threw his backpack in the back and got into the passenger seat. She started the car and connect her phone to the Bluetooth, a playlist called Joshua Tree Playlist that was curated by Riley Davis came on the on-screen deck. He discovered that Riley didn’t just listen to Beyonce, old school rap, and rock. Her music like her was multifaceted and ranged from what you’d expect to complete surprises. He even walked in on her listening to Harry Styles to which she had just shrugged and simply said “I’m confident in myself to like what I like, besides watermelon sugar is a tune.” But currently, she quickly scrolled and threw on Mumm-ra’s “Summer” the indie rock song had a classic indie bass and guitar combo as the intro, she shimmed her shoulders to the music. He couldn’t help but actually crack a smile at her antics. 

Her head turned to him then as she bopped to the music and gave him that brilliant smile lipping the words to the song “I’m only happy in the summer...I’m only happy with you, lover...” She was like a prism, all clear but as soon the light hit her she was vibrant colors and sounds. “Now that’s more like the Mac I know. Nice to have you back for a second.” 

Her words hit him fully, leave it to Riley to bring him back down to earth. To notice that he was struggling. He didn’t know what to say, so he opted for the next best thing. “Are you going to tell me where this semi-voluntary kidnapping is going?”

“Hey, no kidnapping vibes here. We’re taking a couple of days and chilling out. Matty already approved it. We have four days to ourselves. So we’re going on a road trip! Next stop Joshua Tree.” She simply stated as she drove down the hill and towards I-10E.

He widened his eyes and gave his head a shake, letting loose a chuckle he threw up his hand and let them slap his highs. “Ok! I’ll bite.” the brilliance of her smile made him feel like he made the right choice, the breeze already warm blew in through the open windows, the loose strands from her bun floating around her face. 

“Yea! Bozer is going to meet up with us there, he has an errand to run before. Unfortunately, Desi can’t make it, she’s on a mission.” she said sparing him a glance.

He shifted in his seat if he were honest, he was now just looking forward to spending time with her and Boz. “Yea, probably for the best.”

She didn’t say anything waiting for him to continue if he wanted to. The great thing about Riley was she pushed when there was something worth pushing for but otherwise gave him space to talk to her on his own time. Without saying it, he could feel her body asking him if he and Desi were ok.

“I’m not sure I’m what she needs right now.” He simply stated and the unstated that he probably didn’t need their complicated and messy relationship right now either. They were too volatile and while that gave spark to great sex, it left everything else scorched and untouchable. It wasn’t fair for Desi to be stuck with him while he was stuck in his head.

He watched Riley shift in her seat, lately, he noticed there was a strange distance between them but then here she was stealing him away as the old Riley would. Maybe four days would give him the answers to why he felt like she was slipping away slowly, the thought put such a tight feeling in his throat, he couldn’t lose one more person. Especially not Riley, not his amazing, smart, loyal, beautiful friend singing along to a cover of Billy Joel’s “Vienna”. Suddenly it was easy to smile again, it didn’t take all of his efforts. “Hey, did you pack my bag for me? Or am I gonna have to survive in these running clothes for four days?”

He didn’t think to change when she gave him 5 minutes to meet her at his truck.

“I got you, Mac, everything you need is in there boy! Why would I give you an empty backpack?” she tapped on with the music and threw him another smile. If the next few days were going to be filled with smiling Riley he was already glad she kidnapped him voluntarily.

“Did you go through my underwear and sock drawers?!” He asked narrowing his eyes and laughing as a soft blush spread across her cheeks, Riley Davis can be bashful what do you know. 

“I mean we’re all adults here, no need for this juvenile behaviour. Yes, I packed your undies and socks.” He could see her rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses, but he was amused by the blush that graced her face. Mac always thought Riley was attractive, men and women constantly commented on her beauty. Her looks helped them with countless ops. He wasn’t blind, just looked past the obvious. She was his friend, Jack’s daughter, and a relationship he couldn’t sacrifice. But these moments when they’re alone and he could look at her and steal glances he saw just how gorgeous she was as a being. 

They had become closer the past couple of years for sure, he felt completely at ease with her. Could talk to her about anything, seek her counsel about things that were on his mind. She usually could read him already ready to jump into whatever stupid situations he got himself into. Even now he couldn’t believe that she followed him into Codex. She had told him she trusted him, and he felt like he could breathe just from those words. Knowing she stood with him gave him the strength to follow through. 

They stopped for coffee and bagels, laughing about the guy in front of them that took ages to order. They made fun of a couple of housewives of Beverly hills type and how Bozer would’ve recognized who they are. It was just easy his mind kept saying to him. When he pointed to a smidge of cream cheese in the corner of her mouth, she attempted to licked it away with her tongue, he couldn’t help but gulp down some of his iced coffee and watch her miss it. Reaching over he brushed the side of her lips and without thinking licked his thumb clean. She froze for a second and looked at him with an intensity that he couldn’t read. “You were struggling” he shrugged. 

“Thanks,” was all she said with an almost shy smile, unaware of course of how that small act sent fire all over her. She was thankful that she was on her last bite and he was already finished with his bagel, now casually leaning back in his chair letting the sun warm his face, his golden hair casting a halo around him. She needed to run away, “ready to start the journey again?”

Smiling he stood, they took their unfinished coffee and bottles of water with them. For the next 15 minutes, they joked about the new episodes of Rick and Morty, as more of her playlist played in the background, glancing at the screen he saw the current song was “Good Life” by Randell Kent. The lyrics washing over him as they finally pulled into the expressway. This could be a good life, at least it felt that way right now. 

They passed the next 15 minutes in silence, but it was the kind they had often where it was just comfortable. They didn’t feel the need to fill the void. They just listened to music and watched the road and let their minds wander.

She hummed along with the new song that came on, he never noticed that she had a pretty nice singing voice. “...don’t overthink it...just surround me...hmm” LÉON's "Surround Me" played in the car. He leaned against his window and watched her quietly.  “Why don’t you take a nap, I know you didn’t sleep much last night. We’ve got another 2-hour drive ahead of us.” She finally says to him softly turning the music down a bit and rolling up the windows opting for the ac.

Of course, she noticed, it wasn’t a big secret that he had been spiralling out of control. He wasn’t sleeping or eating well, his mind obsessing over Codex. But now there was nothing but a jumbled mess of things and just pure grief and exhaustion left behind in the aftermath. Strangely enough, he actually felt ok enough to take her up on the offer, she made him feel safe. Knowing she was going to be here when he opened his eyes brought a feeling of comfort and peace he was struggling to have, it was like the darkness couldn’t get to him. “Yeah ok.”

He drifted and for the first time in a long time found sleep came quickly and a dreamless sleep took him over. No nightmares, just soft hum engulfed him. It was when he felt warm fingers on his cheek brushing back some hair did he open his eyes and came face to face with Riley’s hazel eyes and full lips. He blinked a few times to adjust to the light. “Hey,” she said softly. 

“Hey, are we here already?” He asked sitting up, it didn’t escape his mind that he didn’t mind that Riley was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes, it never did but he filed it away with any other thoughts that ever came into his mind about her that seemed more than friendly behaviour. 

She stepped away from him and cleared her throat and nodded, “yea, we’re here. I’m glad you got some sleep” she smiled again. She was entranced with watching him sleep, she almost didn’t want to wake him, he was beautiful, soft and so vulnerable in this moment. She knew how much he was struggling, which made her predicament even more complicated. How could she tell him she would be moving out? Instead, her brilliant idea was to steal him away for a few days. She was playing with fire, but she also knew that as strong as he was, any more change might send him over the edge. She decided she’ll tell him about her move after this trip, but her priority will always be to protect him, her heart can deal with it. 

His own faced turned up, “yeah I guess I needed it, and who knew what I needed was you humming off-key to songs in the background to fall asleep.” She swallowed and told her heart to stop its stupid summersaults. 

“I’ll make you some tracks and make sure they’re extra off-key! I’ll be your white noise” she said quickly teasing back. 

“My very own ghost.” his eyes crinkling in the corners. This was the most she’s seen him smile in a while. 

Rolling her eyes and doing a mock laugh “careful or I will haunt your ass for real” to which she got full dimples, this was going to be four long days.

“Ok so I got us a house actually” she cheekily said pointing at the well-maintained terra cotta colored house they were parked in front of on top of a hill surrounded by sky and desert landscapes with cacti and boulders, the house faced the road below that brought them into town. The front porch had a couple of lounge chairs, a table for four, a couple of lanterns neatly hung around the arches and a small pathway that led to a circular covering what he deduced was the hot tub. There were shrubs and succulents neatly planted around the house giving some green to the otherwise very warm hue of the area. 

Mac looked around and already his head felt lighter under the sky that just seemed bluer here, probably because the air pollution was nonexistent here. He sheepishly said, “I kinda thought we’d be camping,” rubbing the back of his neck, “but the house looks nice.”

“Listen, we can camp I bought everything, but we can also stay in this awesome house with a hot tub, pool, and functioning toilets and showers.” she shrugged tucking her hands into the back pockets of her shorts. “What can I say, I’m a city gal and honestly we do ‘camp’ a lot for work.”

He shook his head lightly, “yeah I guess you got a point there,” thinking of all of the times they did camp out without any real equipments. “You thought of everything huh?” He asked softly taking her in fully. “Thanks, Riles.” watching her smile and nod made his heart feel warm, a feeling he’s been missing for a while.

As if on cue Bozer pulled up behind them. Riley’s smiled widen. Mac turned towards the car and he thought he was seeing a ghost. Then he heard the familiar sound of a Texan drawl. He turned to Riley wide-eyed and then back at where Bozer stepped out of the car with a shit-eating grin and next to him was none other than Jack Dalton. 

“How’s it going hoss!” He waved with a laugh as he approached Mac and took his hand and pulled him into a hug.

“Jack! Man, it’s so good to see you.” Mac said hugging the older man hard, he felt his eyes water just a bit.

Jack pat his back and pulled away smiling, “it’s good to see you too, kid.”

“Yeah, the OG gang is back together” Bozer claimed jumping with excitement.  

Jack turned to Riley and embraced her, “Hey baby girl!” Pulling her off the ground as she shrieked with laughter. Riley held onto Jack for a moment longer before releasing him and smiling, she didn’t hide the tears that were softly rolling down her face now. 

“I’m so glad to have you back.” She said softly. Jack brushed away tears from her cheek and nodded. 

“Me too.” he turned to look at his crew and smiled at the kids that somehow came to mean the world to him. “So we ready for this crazy weekend or what?!” his arm still around Riley. 

“Hell yeah!” exclaimed Bozer already heading to the trunk of his car to grab his and Jack’s bags. 

Mac just stood dumbfounded for a second taking in the 3 most important people in his life and finally feeling something, he’s been so scared that something in him was shifting but seeing them here smiling at him brought back the warmth he felt has been slowly seeping away. “Thank you, guys.”

“Come on man, we’re family,” Bozer said squeezing his shoulder. 

“You always got us,” Jack added a giant grin. “Alright now, let’s get settled and decide what we’re doing. I’m craving a cold one for sure!” He said picking up his bag.

Riley on cue walked over to the door and pressed in the security code into the door handle and opened up the door. “Welcome to the digs boys, we’ve got the living room” pointing to the right, “the master bedroom just past there as well as the second bedroom. Just ahead is the dining room and kitchen, around the hall to the left we have the other two bedrooms and bathroom. Laundry room and back porch with the grill AND pool. You saw the fire pit and hot tub in the front of the house.” she said sweeping both her arms around the house that was meant to be their home for the next four days. 

“Damn Riley! You did good!” Bozer said as he scanned the house, decorated with a mix of modern and country house feel. Walking over to the kitchen he hummed in approval, “I can work with this! I’m gonna grab the groceries!” he bounced back out the door. 

Jack gave a whistle of approval, “man, after the places I’ve been sleeping in, I’m gonna sleep like a baby!” as he went around ducking into rooms and giving his approval.

Mac didn’t care much about the house but did agree it was a nice one with all the comforts of home. 

Riley suddenly stood in front of him and gave him a warning “Macgyver don’t use any part of this house, I would like to get my deposit back.” He laughed holding up both hands in agreement. 

Jack turned the attention back to the group, “ok kids whose taking what room?”

“Riley should have the master,” Mac said right away. Jack did jokingly protest that he’s the one who’s been sleeping on rubbles and jungle floors. Bozer bounced into one of the bedrooms to the right, jack decided to take the bedroom next to Bozer. Which left him and Riley to the right side of the house. “Masters all yours.”

She smiled, “umm you sure you don’t want it?” to which he shook his head, all of the bedrooms where sizeable with queen beds and dressers, it honestly didn’t matter and being the only girl they didn’t mind giving her the room with space and vanity table so she can paint her face as jack put it to which she rolled her eyes. “So there is the bathroom down the hall next to the other bedrooms but one here on our side the bathroom is actually in the master, so feel free to use it if you need it. The shower in there looks amazing!” She said nervously.

He smiled “yea ok.” He helped her unpack the car and bring her bag into her bedroom. He looked around “maybe I should take this room,” which earned him a light shove at his shoulder and he chuckled. 

“Too late it’s mine now. Ok! So I say we get changed grab some lunch and chill for a bit while we plan the next few days.” She laid out the plans looking up at him both hands on her hips and she stretched forward towards him. That familiar hammering came back in her chest, the next thing she knows he’s embracing her. “Mac…”

He just needed to be close to her just for a second, releasing her from the embrace he softly said, “I just...I know I said thank you, but really, thank you.”

She held onto his biceps and squeezed them, ignoring the way that made her feel she just smiled at him “hey what are friends for if not to kinda kidnap you for a mini-vacation.” He laughed and she decided that was her favorite sound. Letting her hands fall to her side, “go get settled, I’m sure Boz will make us something to eat, I’m starving.”

He smiled once more and left her standing in the middle of her room feeling so many things. The next four days were going to be the hardest four days of her life she reminded herself again. She survived two years in prison, she’ll be fine, she hoped. Taking a deep breath she walked into the kitchen where she could already hear Jack and Bozer. 

Bozer was laying out sandwich meats and cheese he had picked up while swatting Jack’s hands away from stealing slices of the cold cuts. She felt a bit emotional seeing them goofing around, something about Jack being home made her feel like everything was going to be ok, that Mac would be ok and she would have the strength to get over what was currently happening to her in regards to Mac.

“Some things never change.” She heard Mac say softly now changed into a pair of trousers t-shirt and button-down. “Thanks for the clothes you picked out, I don’t think I could have picked better.”

Again she felt her face warm, what the hell was wrong with her. She couldn’t recall a time that she felt this affected. Usually, with guys she had found attractive, it was always coyness and subtle flirting but never did something so simple trigger this kind of response. She chalked it up to the heat even though the state of the art thermostat read a cool 70°. “Yea, of course, you’re welcome. And I’m glad that some things don’t change.”

Mac looked down at her, he agreed but maybe some things changing wouldn’t be too bad. Pulling up the chair at the kitchen island, they took the beers Jack handed them one by one raising his bottle “it’s good to be home, cheer!” They all clinked the bottles together and shouted cheers. Jack took a long swig off his beer, “Damn that’s good.” 

Mac couldn’t help but feel like he was transported back to a couple of years ago when things were simple and good. They saved lives and had fun. Everything seemed so much heavier and complicated these days. But right now at this moment, he felt the most present he’s felt in a year. 

“What are we having Boz, I’m starving!” Riley whined softly. 

“Girl I got you covered. I’m making a medley of sandwiches, you got a Cuban, prosciutto and mozzarella with balsamic vinegar and basil, and a BLT coming at you with my homemade mayo,” he said already working on prepping the bread with condiments. 

“Damn Bozer, have I missed your cooking!” said Jack with an excited glint in his eyes. 

“So I was thinking we take it easy for today don’t know about you guys but I could take a dip in that pool, we’ll start early morning for the hikes, if we want to camp tomorrow night we can, day 3 and 4 are open for whatever you guys want to do. We need to be back in LA by noon on monday.” Riley laid out the plans.

“Pool party, I’m in,” Jack said nodded seriously. 

“Me too! I can’t remember the last time I just had a day to do whatever I wanted.” Bozer said thoughtfully while working on their lunch.

“Yea, it’s been a lot going on hasn’t it.” He said picking at the beer bottle label. The room fell into silence for a moment, each reviewing the events of the past year if not longer. They lost so much as a collective but Mac and the most. 

Jack took another sip finishing off his beer and shook his head, “Nah, we’re here to have fun, let’s focus on that.” grabbing one of the pickles that Boze laid out, Bozer gave him a side-eye but said nothing. “This weekend we’re gonna unwind and be thankful for this beautifully weird place. Nothing is blowing up, no one is shooting at us, the worst thing will be the hangovers and food comas,”

Riley and Bozer both collectively knocked on the wood of the kitchen island, “don’t jinx it!”

To which Mac proceeded to explain that ‘jinx’ wasn’t a scientifically proven, and went into a ramble about logic. It wasn’t until he noticed all three of his friends smiling affectionately at him that he stopped dropped him head mouth curving into a smile. He knocked on the wood too just in case.

                                                         II

Twenty minutes later Bozer served them his masterpieces as he called them, and they all agreed that they were works of art. Jack had caught them up as much as he could on his mission with the deltas and catching Kovac, leaving the classified information out. It seems so natural that they wouldn’t give details, that they understood that somethings they could never talk about again. 

Finishing off his third sandwich Jack stood to plug his phone to charge “can you believe this phone lasted me almost 2 years?!” 

To which Mac rolled his eyes but his mouth still twitched upwards. “I can’t help that a phone has key components for most builds.”

“Yeah you left and it became either me or Riley. I feel like it was mostly me though.” Bozer said pouting. 

“Appreciate you picking up the slack, I already upgraded my insurance just in case.” Jack pointed at Mac. To which Boze and Riley hollered. 

Mac held up his hand and shook his head, “hey man I promise if I don’t need it, I won’t ask for it.” 

“Alright, Alright let’s get to the pool!” Jack said already pulling his shirt over his head. “Riley throw on some tunes, preferably something country or rock or close to my generation that we can all enjoy.”

It was Riley’s turn to roll her eyes, “don’t worry old man, I got us all covered. A bit of Brooks and Dunn, a bit of Ozzy,  a bit of Technotronic, a little Beyonce, and of course Drake for Bozer.”

Mac’s face squinted into lines. “Wait is Techtronic for me? Or is Beyonce for me?”

She laughed, “guess you’ll just have to find out, though I do recall you know the lyrics to at least one of Techtronic’s’ song.” her own eyes squinting to tease him. “Alright, I’m gonna go change, be right back.”

“Yeah ok fair enough, but only cause it was on the radio…saved your booty,” she heard him mumble as she passed him patting his shoulder. 

The guys were already set up by the pool when she walked out. Bozer managed to find a pool floaty from where they didn’t know and mildly suspected he might have packed the one that he was currently laying on and enjoying the sun. Mac and Jack sat next to each other with their feet in the water.

“I’m sorry about your old man.” Jack finally said softly. 

Mac’s lips pulled into a line before he sighed and looked down at the beer bottle in his hand “yea, as it turns out its hard to be mad at a guy that always chose the utilitarian method. He sacrificed himself, I wish I could just be sad or just angry but how I feel is just…” he didn’t know himself.

“Hey man, I get it. I know what it’s like to lose a father. No matter who and how he was as a person, he was still your dad.” Jack said placing a hand on Mac’s shoulder and giving a light squeeze. “But you know I‘m here if you gotta sort through all the jumbled mess in your head. I’ll be your sounding board.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that” He did appreciate it, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to, let alone where to start to untangle the mess that his life became. He was brought out of his brooding when Bozer whistled loudly.

“Damnnnnn Riley!” to which Jack knocked him off his floaty, when he resurfaced drawing water away from his face he whined, “I was just paying her the compliment she deserves!”

Mac knew that Riley had an amazing body, her tight jeans and crop tops proved this countless time if not by the countless gowns and tight dresses she had to wear for ops, but they’d never seen her in a bikini in the four years of working together. He swallowed hard and pretended not to stare, but it was hard when she was all bronze and glowing, toned abs and round hips, her smile radiant even if her eyes held a teasing annoyance at the attention. It suddenly felt hotter than 89°. 

Jack knew better than to tell her to cover up, and he knew that he could trust these guys but still, he pouted about her lack of clothing. “Jack, what do you want me to wear to the pool, a potato sack?”

“No, but...never mind!” he just mumbled. 

She shook her head, but she was trying to distract herself from the fact that Mac had looked at her hard, their eyes locked for a second and she could’ve sworn she saw something there, the way his adam’s apple bobbed make her skin tingle. She decided that she’d read it as a compliment. 

The rest of the afternoon passed with a game of pool volleyball, naps here and there or reading, Riley’s playlist playing in the background. Memories being solidified to sounds, smells, and feelings. She chided them to apply sunscreen and even offered to help with their backs. 

“Riley not sure if you’re aware but I’m black,” Bozer said to her proudly.

“So? Black people burn too and are you trying to get cancer?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

Deflated he shook his head no and sat down. One by the one they gave up the protests as she threw savage shade at them. She applied a boatload of sunscreen just cause they gave her a hard time and decided to snap some pictures as well for blackmail of course.

Mac was last and sat in front of her as she steeled herself and slowly applied the sunscreen to the back of his neck, the hair at his nape tickling her fingers. She worked quickly and ran her fingers between his shoulder blades down his back. She felt him tense and worked faster. As much as she enjoyed being able to touch him like this, it was also inappropriate. He didn’t know about her feelings, and she felt sleazy as if she were taking advantage of a friend. Closing the bottle cap shut, she lightly tapped his shoulders, “done, now you don’t have to be an embarrassing lobster.” She weakly cracked.

He wasn’t new to attraction, or the body’s response to the said attraction. He didn’t expect to be so affected by her fingers running down his back, her nails making a slow trail that left him imagining those nails digging into his back for a completely different reason. He cleared his throat, “thanks, wouldn’t want that.”  he managed as he looked over his shoulder. Fuck him, she was adorable as she chewed her bottom lip and nodded. Ok, maybe four days of this Riley was going to be a challenge.

                                                        II

Around later afternoon everyone decides to shower and get ready for the evening, agreeing to head into town and grabbing dinner there. They decided with the drinks they’ve had best to grab an Uber into town. The awkwardness of the poolside sunscreen still fresh as they piled into the car. It was a short ride but felt long as Riley sat squeezed between Mac and Bozer. Bozer just grinned, of course, him knowing her feeling about Mac was going to be her downfall. When they were dropped off, She felt like she had been holding her breath for hours.

“You ok?” Mac asked her to which she nodded.

“Yep, just need a drink!” His brows raised and he seconded that feeling because he definitely could use one.  

Walking around the old Pioneer town setup, Mac explained different tools and contraptions that were displayed around the old buildings from the 1800s, Jack dazzled them with stories about Texas that either made no sense or was inaccurate according to Mac, Bozer, and goggle. They decided to have dinner at Pappy and Harriet’s Pioneertown Palace, where the smell of barbecue wafted through the warm evening air, They could hear the bustle of music and glasses clinking. Bozer was already rushing in to get them a table saying something about getting his hands on some ribs. Jack hollered that he has to see if this place is as good as Texas barbecue.  

Mac looked down at Riley as her eyes sparkled with excitement the earlier awkwardness finally forgotten. Even though they’ve been everywhere in the world, this place had her vibrating. “I never knew you were a fan of the country life.”

She laughed, “I don’t know, I didn’t think that I was either, but there is something about this place that just, I dunno gets me kinda hyped.”

“Hey, guys they have a table for us!” Bozer shouted over the live music and chatter. Apparently they came on open mic night and the local dentist was doing this rendition of Hank Williams’ “all my rowdy friends” and killing it. The energy was just infectious.

They sat down as Bozer rubbed his hands together, “I already know this is gonna be the bomb. I mean can you smell that hickory?!”

“Hell yea I can!” Jack chimed in.

Mac smiled at his best friends, Bozer and Jack were always bouncing off each other in any room the three of them were in, but since Riley came into the picture they’re better behaved. They listen to song after song and the cheers of the crowd as they ate. Jack approved and hummed in appreciation. 

“I’ve missed this, the good ole USA, bbq, and country blues.” 

“Every song is about beer, a truck, a woman, but man is it catchy” Bozer stood busting out his moves as he called it. 

“Jack, it makes sense you should feel right at home at this place.” She said with eyes twinkling. 

Mac took a swig of his beer and chuckled, “This whole place is Jack if he were a bar, maybe throw in some Black Sabbath and ACDC in and you have Jack.”

Jack grinned and nodded, “ok, ok, you’re not wrong. I’m totally digging this place.” His eyes finding the eyes of a pretty blonde at the bar.

“Classic...” She agreed, crinkling her nose up in that adorable way when she found something slightly distasteful, thought Mac. For a moment they took the time to acknowledge the man who became a father to them both with affection. If they ever have to thank someone for their sincerity they could claim Jack as one of the big influencers. They’re musing was broken by Bozer shouting,

“Guys come on lets dance, how often do we get to do this anymore?” Bozer ushered them onto the dance floor. He already found himself a couple of dance partners. Ph.D. in partying Bozer was out tonight. 

It was true, they didn’t do these things anymore. Things haven’t been the same for a while. It’s only been about a year and yet he felt like his whole world shifted. An avalanche of shit hit him. 

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Jack jumped up and was already making a beeline for the woman at the bar. They could hear a vague “how you doing?”

Mac and Riley just rolled their eyes and joined Bozer on the dance floor as the new performer of the night decided to sing Shania Twain “Man, I Feel like a woman.” As soon as they joined Bozer, of course, within minutes Riley was stolen away for a dance. Mac was happy to watch her, the joy finally reaching her eyes today. Maybe they all needed this, a moment to stop and appreciate their lives. 

He liked seeing her like this, Riley was always fun to be around. But right now she was everything he thought to himself, everything about her made his heart feel full. Finishing his beer off, he decided that he wanted to be the one to dance with his friend. The more he played with the word, somehow it didn’t seem enough anymore to call her that.

“Can I steal her for this dance?” he asked not really waiting for an answer already pulling her close to him. “You good?” looking to make sure he wasn’t misreading the situation.

She looked up at him and nodded, “yeah, I’m good.” looking down at their joined hands, it was this hand-holding that started the thud in her chest in Germany, and here it was hammering away. She was so screwed. There was a part of her mind that asked her, why not? He’s not attached anymore, so why not? But she knew better, he didn’t need this right now. He didn’t need her feelings to complicate his life. Lost in her thoughts or the blues of his eyes she wasn’t sure which, she didn’t realize the music was changing as the next performer took stage and cheers were heard. 

The music changed to a slower one, something about it just seemed fitting and he’d watched her dance all night with other people but now it was his turn. He stepped up closer to her, her eyes on him as he took her hand and swayed with her. She laughed softly as they danced to a soft country song about a man who wanted to be a girl’s everything. How ironic.

“If you wanna be with a guy who's gonna bring you flowers A guy who's gonna talk on your phone for hours A guy who's gonna wanna hold the door for you When you wanna walkthrough A guy who's gonna pick you up A guy who's gonna take you out and make you Wanna get a little dressed up and get a little down”

She once told him that she wouldn’t mind a small town, the quiet, after all things they saw daily. He wondered if secretly she wanted to be one of those ‘girl next door’ country girl. He felt her warmth through the shirt she wore, his finger brushing the soft exposed skin of her midriff. It was like an electrical current ran through him, which was of course plausible and probably didn’t mean anything.

“I wanna be the guy with the roses Number on speed dial, ladies first, don't you know that's my style Hop into my truck I got plans We’ll head on down to Jimmy's and we'll do a little dance There's a lot of things in a small town a guy can be But if its by your side for the rest of my life Baby, you can call me, a wannabe (a wannabe) Be be a wannabe (a wannabe) (a wannabe) Be Be”

She knew how dangerous this was getting, but she couldn’t help herself just for this one song. Couldn’t help giggling when he spun her around and pulled her close. Couldn’t help but let her stupid heart thud at his deep laughter. Where she could touch him for a little while without question, without worry. She can feel the hair at the nape of his neck as she wrapped her arms around him because they were just dancing. This stolen moment getting filed away as one of the best nights she’s had to date. 

“If you wanna be with a guy whose gonna give you The whole world from the back of a dirt road farm Scribbled in ink with a big heart a tattoo on my arm I'm talkin' kissin' like crazy, can't shut it down Can't you see how I wanna be the guy that you’re out with Arm that's your names on”

With every sway, he felt like he was taking a step towards where he should be. The person he should be and wanted to be. The doubt that has been clouding over him slowly clearing a little. He felt like he could finally see the light shining through. If someone like Riley could stand next to him as the world ended then life couldn’t possibly be that bad, right? So for now at this moment, he pulls her closer, lets her scent make him dizzy. Lets his hand splay across the small of her back to let each finger feel her.

“Be the lips baby that you wanna put your lips on All-day, all night, moonshine, sunrise, your favorite song There's a lot of things in a small town a guy can be But if it’s by your side for the rest of my life, baby you can call me A wannabe (a wannabe) (a wannabe) Be be a wannabe (a wannabe) Be Be”

There is a cheer from the crowd and she laughs “This song is fucking catchy,” She says as he dips her, the audible gasp vibrating through her to him. He decided then that he loved dancing with Riley. He loved her laughs, the way her whole face lit up. 

“I wanna be the guy you make a life with, picket white fence with Maybe a little later hell even make a baby with Just you and me livin' that life long dream There's a lot of things in a small town a guy can be But if it’s by your side for the rest of my life”

He placed his forehead against hers and held her close. She glances up at him and his eyes hold hers. She’s mystified by their intensity, her body on fire from his breath fanning across her face. They were so close, he could kiss. He wanted to kiss her. As they got lost in each other, they failed to see the silly smile on Bozer’s face as he watched them or Jack who also softly chuckled from where he got distracted from wooing his lady friend Carla. If he was being honest, he can’t believe it took this long for them to get to this point. Well, he supposed he’ll have to have a chat with Mac about what he can expect if he hurts his little girl. Turning back to Carla he spared them one last glance then he was all Dalton, Jack Dalton. 

“Baby you can call me, a wannabe (a wannabe) (a wannabe) Be be You can call me your wannabe (a wannabe) Be Be A wannabe (a wannabe) (a wannabe) Be Be”

The crowd clapped cheered and whistled around them, he held her eyes still in a trance. Something definitely shifted between them. She cleared her throat and let him go smiling. “Thanks for the dance. That was so much fun.” Turning to make her way through the crowd to their table where a fresh bottle of beer was waiting for them courtesy of Bozer she assumed. She didn’t wait to see if he was following.

The heat from the dance coming off her now as if she had a full HIIT workout. She took a sip of the beer and before she could swallow it, he was standing next to her. 

“Riley…”

She gulped down the beer and looked at him, she was so fucked. 

[fred-frederator-studios]

Dale Pon, R.I.P.

Pretty much the most famous media advertising campaign in history is “I Want My MTV!” –the May 2020 Google search returns 184,000 results, more than 30 years after the last flight ran– and it was the result of the brain of Dale Pon.*

* As I explain in detail in the pieces below, writer extraordinaire Nancy Podbielniak was the word spark for the campaign; it was George Lois who suggested ripping off “I Want My Maypo!” Dale Pon was the person who took these notions and turned them into brilliance.

Dale persuaded me and the powers that be at MTV that he could make it work, Dale who convinced MTV programmers to recording artists to participate for no fees. It was Dale who took the paltry budget allotted and strategized how to maximize the network’s cable distribution. And finally, it was Dale Pon’s dogged persistence and genius that caused cable operators across America to beg us to please stop running the campaign before all the telephone operators quit in frustration from all the people “demanding their MTV!!!” 

My great friend –and better mentor– Dale Pon, passed away from difficulties due to Parkinson’s and Covid19. There’s no way to convey all of the ways people expressed their sadness to me today, but one of them probably encapsulated things best by saying “Complicated but brilliant, creatively inspired, strategic like chess master , we were lucky to have been touched by his talents...” All too true. 

Dale could be –to say the least– a challenging personality. Determined to win, he could be a bulldozer crushing an ant. Warm at his core, he could be beyond generous will all he had at his disposal. Unlike many others with talent and raw intelligence, he was quick to share his remarkable thinking, lavish in his ability to elevate the talents of the shy and uncertain, and as bountiful with praises as he could be lacerating with his critical observations. He loved as deeply as he was able, and a constant explorer for the meanings of life. 

When it came to the work, there was no one better at understanding media, and getting fans interested in its rewards. I don’t know if it was his methodologies and personality, or the fact that media promotion wasn’t all that well respected in the ad biz, but Dale didn’t have too much of a profile in the advertising world. I think, ultimately, he was much more focused on the work than on the publicity. So, things being what they are, what I’ve collected seems to be the most comprehensive look at his career, at least the parts that I’ve directly touch. By no means is it comprehensive, I know nothing about his radio days in the early 70s, and little about his work after I joined the cartoon industry. But all of what I have is yours, below. 

I’ll lead with what a few of his colleagues and friends wrote a few years ago for Dale’s birthday. And then, below that, all the various campaign pieces (written from my perspective, of course) I’ve recalled over the years. 

.....

April 2016, on the occasion of Dale’s birthday.

Dale Pon, my mentor and friend. Fucking smart.

Dale Pon’s been on my mind lately, as he is almost every day, because of the ways he taught me to think about …. um,everything. I’ve written about some other important mentors before, but Dale’s influence was so staggering I could never figure out how to sketch it out in anything shorter than book length.  

“Dominate the space.” (He was referring to graphic design, but it might have served as a life philosophy).

“Of course, there’s an absolute truth.”

“You remember the first thing you see, but the last thing you hear.”

“The power of three.” (Broke that rule with this list.)

“Advertising is a frequency medium.”

“You make album tracks. I make hit songs.”

I’m not sure that he ever thought of himself as particularly quotable, but as you’ll see below, I wasn’t alone in internalizing. There were hundreds more bon mots, most of which he probably forgot as soon as he said them but stuff I’ve never been able to shake off, to this day.

His resume doesn’t do him justice, but quickly… For 40 years, Dale Pon was at the forefront of media programming and promotion for many of the major media companies, CBS, NBC, Viacom, Storer Broadcasting (where we met). He specialized in radio throughout his career, but when Bob Pittman moved into cable television, he prevailed there too (“I Want My MTV!” is still returns hundreds of thousands of Google search results, 30 years after it went off the air). He was wildly successful in an advertising agency partnership with ad legend George Lois, before setting up a solo shop, Dale Pon Advertising, in New York City.

Dale was brash and loud, very, and he certainly wasn’t to everyone’s taste. The friend who first recommended me for one of his jobs called in a rage when he quit and said if I really needed a gig so badly… I knew Dale’s work from its supremacy of the metropolitan subway system for the New York country music powerhouse (a paradox if there ever was one) WHN Radio, but it hadn’t occurred to me that actual human beings created advertising, or that it took any real brain power. Dale quickly disabused me of that notion, as he sent me to his tailor to buy me my first three piece suit (more appropriate for Park Avenue media than the cut off shorts I wore to our interview).

Most of all, he was really fucking smart. And deeply, articulately, astute about media. He could tell the story of radio stations or television networks better than anyone, and persuade their audiences to fall profoundly in love, by sticking to the basic human emotions like truth, desire, love. (My favorite? “Love songs, nothing but love songs” for WPIX-FM, directly appropriated for an Off-Broadway show). He didn’t end it there, with a creative, strategic and statistical brilliance that combined, to quote Bob Pittman (from another context completely) “math and magic.”

What I appreciated most was his intense, almost overwhelming desire to teach me everything he knew at exactly the moment I was desperate for his knowledge. In fact, as I observed him with myself and others over the years, it would be fair to say that if you wasn’t interested in being taught, Dale Pon wasn’t interested in you. And, not for nothing, it went both ways. He’s was as incisive a questioner and listener as one could want. Curious, intrigued, dying to know anything on almost any subject. In my case, it meant that we generally spent six or seven days together all the years we were together in two different media capitals. Whew!

Difficult? Challenging? Exasperating? You bet. I wouldn’t trade that time for anything.

Dale’s the one who changed the course of my work life, and as Scott Webb says below, “he changed me.” It’s because of Dale that I stumbled on my understanding that I wasn’t a music guy after all, or even a TV baby, but a pop culture sponge. I wouldn’t had the chance to participate in any of the culture shiftings I got to observe first hand. Who knows, maybe I would’ve stumbled through a life of complete dissatisfaction. That’s how profound his influence was on me.

Dale’s birthday recently passed by, and stuck for cogent things to say about him, I reached out to a few friends who’ve crossed his path and might be better at expressing themselves than I ever could. You’ll notice they’re pretty powerful personalities themselves, but Dale made an impression. Boy, did he make an impression. (I left out some of those controversial moments and unproductive comments.)

Well, our friends didn’t let us down. They got to the heart of the matter in ways I never could. Thanks everyone.

…..

Herb Scannell: Mythical.

Dale Pon is mythical.

He’s the man who “wanted his MTV” and got the world to say the same. My friend Fred always claimed that he learned whatever he knew from Dale and whatever I know I learned from Fred so it all comes back to Dale. Or blame them both. Happy Birthday Dale! Forever young!

…..

Bob Pittman: The Mad Scientist.

Dale Pon is the mad scientist of advertising. Full of passion, always with a breakthrough idea and the urgency to get it done quickly with no compromises. He made a huge contribution to my successes at WNBC Radio, MTV and even Six Flags theme parks. One of a kind….happy birthday to him from a big fan!

……

Scott Webb: “Most people don’t know how to think.”

Dale Pon didn’t just change my life he changed me. He encouraged me to be brave and fearless and never stop solving problems. He is one of the smartest people I have ever met and the teacher I will never forget.

You never know how things are going to happen. After 4 years at Sarah Lawrence, one of the most expensive liberal arts schools, I was clueless about a career. My secret wish was to write comics (mostly because I had no talent to draw). Unlike most of my class at SLC my parents were basically working class folks with a yankee work ethic who expected me to not move back home after graduation.

One January evening, I was talking with my friend Betsy K who had just graduated. She had just returned home from job hunting in the city. She had an interview at WNBC Radio; they weren’t hiring but were looking for interns. “What’s an intern?” I asked. I was so naive.

I immediately fell in love with the energy of the radio station. I had to work there.

“You’ll be working for Dale Pon. He’s very demanding. Do you think you can handle that?” asked Buzz Brindle, a WNBC program director. Me? Of course! I’ve got my Yankee work ethic and my Sarah Lawrence education. I thought I was ready for anything. But I was not ready for Dale Pan.

Dale was bigger than life, louder than anyone else in the company and frequently slammed the door to his tiny office. I found him brilliant, charismatic and intimidating.

My first big assignment for Dale was to create a chart of all the radio stations in New York and rank them by ratings performance over the past 2 years. I wanted to do a great job for him but the truth was that I was terrible at chart making. I was a liberal arts comic book kid and he had me doing statistical analysis and I knew if I did a bad job I would probably face his famous wrath behind a slammed closed door. But despite my inept chart building, Dale painstakingly taught me how to read the Arbitron reports and methodically went through my work and instructed me how to correct it. I learned more from him over that 5 month internship than I had in my last 2 years of college. But my lesson wasn’t in statistical analysis or radio promotion. Dale had high expectations of me, he believed in me and he was demanding in the pursuit of excellence.

A lot of people at the station didn’t like Dale mostly because he would raise his voice to make a point or because he was passionate about his beliefs, or would not hold back his opinion when something was mediocre, pedestrian or just plain stupid. Dale expected greatness in people, work and business. His mission was to win and often people found that difficult to embrace. I, on the other hand, found it awesome. I guess he reminded me of the comic book heroes I admired so much - characters who were extraordinary and could do things other people thought were impossible. Most people at the radio station were happy to have a job and get a paycheck and could care less about being #1 but for him that was all that mattered.

It didn’t hurt that he was so smart and insightful. He had the uncanny super power of understand exactly what the problem was – and he taught me that creativity was the ability to solve problems in fresh, innovative and smart ways.

“Do you know why I hired you?” he asked me at the end of my internship. “I didn’t want to hire one of those kids who studied advertising or media in college. Those kids have been ruined. They show up thinking they already know everything - and they haven’t even had a job yet. You didn’t know anything but you were willing to learn and think. Most people don’t know how to think.”  

Those were some of the most important words I ever heard. They lit a fire of confidence and trust in myself that did not exist before and served me throughout my life, not just in work but in life.

…..

Bill Sobel: He yelled at me on the phone…no idea why.

…..

Noreen Morioka: “Good creates things, and Evil destroys it.”

There is no doubt that we all have a great Dale Pon story. Dale never did anything average. He did everything in extremes. Whether you were laughing so hard that you couldn’t breathe or wanting to shake him like a rag doll, Dale is unforgettable.

One of my favorite Dale Pon stories is when he was pitching a new name for a network. Since the channel was going to be all re-runs of a lower level, Dale named it Trash TV. I loved it, but when I presented my designs, he thought what I did wasn’t trashy enough and proceeded to get another designer to put flies swarming around the proposed logomark. When he presented his concept to the network president, he stopped at the building dumpster and pulled out garbage to bring up to presentation. Needless to say, the meeting didn’t go well, and the president was furious that Dale brought garbage into his beautiful office. Stern words were exchanged on both sides and security was called to take Dale and garbage out of the office. He called later to let me know they were going to search for another name. The network changed their name several times since then, and each time Dale would just smile. We all knew his solution was genius.

Like you, Fred, Dale taught me a lot. He taught me never to settle, always come back stronger and most importantly what the difference between good and evil was.

“Good creates things, and Evil destroys it.” Thanks to this simple Dale Pon-ism, I live my life by.

I will always have a deep respect and love for that guy. Happy Birthday, Dale. You are the true original.

…..

Tina Potter: So thoughtful.  

Dale is a magnanimous gift-giver. I once told him the Chrysler Building was my favorite building in NY, and the next time I saw him, he brought me a beautiful framed B&W print of the building! So thoughtful. I still have it!

……

Judith Bookbinder: ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.

I learned a lot from Dale in a very short time.

Dale taught me that ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.

If you want to make something happen, figure it out or find someone who can do it for you.

This simple wisdom is something that has served me throughout my professional life.

…..

Ed Salamon: Directness and Simplicity.  

I always appreciate the opportunity to say something nice about Dale, but the stories that first came to mind involved women, drugs, and fistfights. Or were otherwise too self-incriminating. Here’s what I’ve come up with:

The genius of Dale’s creativity is its directness and simplicity (like “I Want My MTV!”). Unfortunately that sometimes resulted in it being underappreciated.

When we worked together at WHN Radio I once heard our boss say to Dale at the end of the day “We need a new ad campaign slogan for the station by tomorrow. Take twenty minutes tonight, walk around the Village and come up with something.”

When I later started The United Stations Radio Network with Dick Clark and others, we hired Dale to create the logo, which  he agreed to do out of friendship for only a nominal fee. The logo was a distinctive type face, with the letters stuck together (“united”). Some in the company commented that it was too simple; others appreciated its genius.

……

Tom Freston: A great bunch of guys.

Dale is a great bunch of guys. Argumentative, persistent, a perfectionist, fun, difficult, and smart as hell….winning, ultimately, most of his arguments. Happy birthday.

…..

Therese Gamba: “Work smarter, not harder.”

Long before there was “Better Call Saul” it was “Better Call Dale”  when you were faced with a creative challenge.  Dale had a long term relationship with MTV Networks having been part of the launch team for that iconic channel.  So when The Nashville Network had to be relaunched  as the new home of the WWE (then the WWF), oh and it had to be done in three months, there was only one person to call.

My first meeting with Dale was over lunch at the Mercer Kitchen.  Fred had prepped me that Dale liked metrics and to be ready for a lot of questions.  But as anyone who’s met with Dale will tell you, you can never be fully prepared for the hurricane of creative energy that is Dale Pon.

I was prepared with my Venn diagram of the overlap between TNN’s current viewers and the WWE’s viewers (no surprise, not a big cross section). Then the questions started in what felt like a ping pong match at warp speed.  

Two hours into the lunch I had held my own and received the nod from Dale that I was on the right track. I was exhausted, relieved and thrilled to have passed the test. I learned that once you’ve basked in the glow of Dale’s approval, you were hooked.  I also learned that I had become a member of an exclusive club, “Dale’s World.”  My fellow club members all know the stories, share the memories and still live by what he taught us.

Dale always said “work smarter, not harder.”  That mantra has never failed me just as Dale never failed to be supportive, inquisitive and completely one of a kind!

Happy Birthday dear Dale!

(From left): Dale Pon, Anne Grassi, Scott Webb at WNBC Radio, circa 1980.

Alan Goodman: “I’ll give you 50 bucks to fuck up this guy’s haircut.”

Two stories about Dale Pon –

1. I was in Paris with Dale (who ran our advertising agency – my mentor was now my supplier) and MTV’s VP of Programming, Les Garland. Dale and Les weren’t pals. How tense was it? We had dinner together one night in Paris and Les bought us all expensive Cuban cigars. Outside, Dale waited until Les split off to go to his hotel. The first second Les was out of sight, Dale pitched his cigar in the gutter.

We had flown on 10 hours notice so we could shoot Mick Jagger saying “I Want My MTV!” Dale had already shot a number of other MTV generation stars shouting the line, and some were even biggish. But Jagger was THE “get.” We knew that once Jagger blessed our campaign by participating, we’d get anyone else we would ever want. (We did).

We waited around the hotel a couple of days until we got the bat signal that Mick was ready, and raced over to his hotel to set up. Very quickly, what was supposed to be Dale’s shoot had become Les’ shoot. Dale was pissed, rigid with anger, sequestered with me in the adjoining room forced to watch the proceedings on a monitor. I went over to him to try to diffuse the situation. I can’t remember what I told him. But I remember his response, word for word:

“Do you think I need to hear any of this right now?”

I realized why I was in Paris. I was there, as the client, to witness who threw the first punch.

I had spent every single day of the past four months in the office trying to figure out how to do a job I had no idea how to do. I was exhausted. I had zero interest in the kind of politics and shenanigans that network executives pull, and I didn’t want to be there. That’s it, I decided. I’ve had enough. I’m a writer. I have a talent. I can make a living. I will get back home and I will immediately quit.

I said nothing. I smiled through the rest of the shoot. We stopped at a bistro after we wrapped, and had a lovely dinner and wine with the crew. It was a celebration. For good reason. We had Jagger. I stayed quiet. Silent, even. No one knew of my plans.

When we reached the hotel, Dale drew me aside and sat me down.

“You’re not going to quit,” he said. What?! Huh?! How did he know? On top of everything, the man can read minds??!

“You’re not going to quit. You are at the very beginning of something that will change the world, and you will have a great career. You have to stay there and be a part of that and do what you do really well. You cannot leave. Do you understand? You cannot quit.”

He went up to bed. I went home the next day, and didn’t quit. Instead, I stayed and helped make the thing that changed the world. And it was the beginning of a great career.

2. I went to get my hair cut at Astor Place one day. I walked up to my guy, and there in the chair was Dale. I didn’t know Dale used my guy. Dale looked up at me, looked at the barber, and told him, “I’ll give you 50 bucks to fuck up this guy’s haircut.”

…..

Scott Webb (unedited): “He didn’t just change my life he changed me.”

You never know how things are going to happen.

I was a few short months away from graduating from Sarah Lawrence College with no idea what I would do for a job. I was a kid who had grown up reading and loving comic books. After 4 years at one of the most expensive liberal arts schools I was clueless about a career. My secret wish remained to write comics (mostly because I had no talent to draw). Sarah Lawrence was a great place for me. It was there that I understood how to learn. I was naturally curious and SLC exposed me to a world of ideas and brilliant people (students and teachers). But Sarah Lawrence was not a place where I could start a career path. 5 months from graduating I felt the looming pressure of finding a job and making money. Unlike most of my class at SLC my parents were basically working class folks with a yankee work ethic who expected me to not move back home after graduation.  

One January evening, I was talking with my friend Betsy K who had just graduated. She had just returned home from job hunting in the city. She had an interview at WNBC radio with a guy named Buzz Brindle. She said they weren’t hiring but were looking for interns. “What’s an intern?” I asked. I was so naive. She explained that an internship is where you work for free - for experience and to get your foot in the door. WNBC was part of NBC - one of only 3 existing TV networks at the time and my eyes lit up at the idea of of doing anything with a big media company. So I lined up a meeting with Buzz to see if I was intern material.

Buzz was sweet and avuncular and I immediately fell in love with the energy of the radio station. I had to work there. “We’re looking for interns in the promotion department” Buzz explained and I just nodded as affirmatively as possible. “You’ll be working for Dale Pon. He’s very demanding. Do you think you can handle that?” Me? Of course! I’ve got my Yankee work ethic and my Sarah Lawrence education. I thought I was ready for anything. But I was not ready for Dale Pon.  

I interned at the station 2 days a week and It appeared I was the only male in Dale’s promotion team. I reported to a woman named Anne Grassi but Dale was the boss. Dale was bigger than life, louder than anyone else in the company and frequently slammed the door to his tiny office. I had never worked in an office before. I found him brilliant, charismatic and intimidating. The other interns and I would huddle in the conference room where we did our work and wait for our next assignment.

I did many things as an intern but my first big assignment for Dale was to create a chart of all the radio stations in New York and rank them by ratings performance over the past 2 years. This was no small task - this was way before computers in offices - and required me to go to the NBC research department to collect dozens of Arbitron ratings books and laboriously extract the data he wanted and lay it out graphically. I wanted to do a great job for him but the truth was that I was terrible at chart making.

I was a liberal arts comic book kid and he had me doing statistical analysis and I knew if I did a bad job I would probably face his famous wrath behind a slammed closed door. But despite my inept chart building, Dale painstakingly taught me how to read the Arbitron reports and methodically went through my work and instructed me how to correct it. I learned more from him over that 5 month internship than I had in my last 2 years of college. But my lesson wasn’t in statistical analysis or radio promotion. Dale had high expectations of me, he believed in me and he was demanding in the pursuit of excellence.

The chart was part of his battle plan to make WNBC #1 in the NYC market and when I understood the big picture of what he was doing I felt even more inspired and willing to do anything in the service of that cause.

A lot of people at the station didn’t like Dale mostly because he would raise his voice to make a point or because he was passionate about his beliefs, or would not hold back his opinion when something was mediocre, pedestrian or just plain stupid. Dale expected greatness in people, work and business. His mission was to win and often people found that difficult to embrace. I, on the other hand, found it awesome. I guess he reminded me of the comic book heroes I admired so much - characters who were extraordinary and could do things other people thought were impossible. Most people at the radio station were happy to have a job and get a paycheck and could care less about being #1 but for him that was all that mattered.  

It didn’t hurt that he was so smart and insightful. He had the uncanny super power of understand exactly wha the problem was - and he taught me that creativity was the ability to solve problems in fresh, innovative and smart ways. “Do you know why I hired you?” he asked me at the end of my internship. “I didn’t want to hire one of those kids who studied advertising or media in college. Those kids have been ruined. They show up thinking they already know everything - and they haven’t even had a job yet. You didn’t know anything but you were willing to learn and think. Most people don’t know how to think.”  Those were some of the most important words I ever heard. They lit a fire of confidence and trust in myself that did not exist before and served me throughout my life, not just in work but in life.

Dale Pon didn’t just change my life he changed me. He encouraged me to be brave and fearless and never stop solving problems. He is one of the smartest people I have ever met and the teacher I will never forget.

.....

Susan Kantor and David Hyman were on the opposite side of their relationships with him, Susan as a long time account executive in Dale’s agencies, and David as a client. Drew Takahashi, a trusted friend and wonderful creative partner.  

I’m particularly fond of the pull quote from David’s recollections. Having had hundreds of restaurant meals with DP over the years, waitress confusion was probably my overriding remembrance.

Susan Kantor has traveled to the upper heights of television since her time with Dale Pon in the 1980s. But when you read her memoir below he prepared her well, as he did with all of us.

Drew Takahashi is a director who co-founded (Colossal) Pictures, San Francisco, one of the most creative production companies of the 1980s and 90s, and one of the key creative suppliers to the first decades of MTV.

David Hyman became my head of marketing at the MTVi Group when the company purchased Sonicnet.com, one of David’s early digital music endeavors (he’s gone on as founder of MOG, one of the seminal digital music streamers).

…..

Susan Kantor: “Lead, don’t follow”. Love, Dale”

Hands down, Dale Pon was my most influential career mentor. Ridiculously smart, enormously passionate, admirably courageous and truthfully a little scary.

We would all brace ourselves for the moment the elevator doors opened and the sound of his fiercely determined walk in his trademarked cowboy boots could be heard. With the first, “good morning” would come a rapid fire interrogation of where we were at on all the “to do’s” he had just given us an hour ago. “Why isn’t it done yet?”

Leslie Fenn-Gershon and I used to joke about putting a Valium in his Perrier so we could get through the day.

When I got to the office in the morning there would often be a “note”, on my chair written with red Sharpie marker on yellow pad lined paper (pre-email), from Dale.  His handwriting, had as much conviction as his spoken word.  These encouraging notes were meant to guide, remind, teach, mentor or simply, to show his appreciation - often complimentary, occasionally piercing. I still have them.

“Lead, don’t follow”. Love, Dale

“Let’s make things happen!” Love Dale “

“There are children and there are parents. Be a parent.” Love, Dale “

“Everyone wants to be told what to do. Tell them.” Love, Dale “

“We had a good day today. Thank you for your help.” Love, Dale

As we chased rock stars around the globe helping MTV and VH1 revolutionize the music industry, and traversed across the county to position many TV and radio stations in their market, Dale always imparted the importance of what we were doing and demanded we do our very best, every day.

He recognized my innate work ethic, enthusiasm and willingness to do whatever it took to learn and succeed – he also knew how young and naïve I was.  Ripe for mentorship and direction. I got both, and then some. The Dale Pon “boot camp” was not always pretty, but it was always colorful, impactful, memorable and most importantly, meaningful.  

Not only did he teach me all about advertising and the importance of finding the unique selling proposition and saying it as simply as possible so people would remember it, he showed me the world and how not to be intimidated by it. He made me self-aware of my talents and my shortcomings. He also taught me there was no substitute for doing the work.

To this day, I love you Dale and I thank you for believing in me and giving me the chance of a lifetime.

Belated birthday wishes and hope to see you again soon!

…..

Drew Takahashi: “…he gleefully pushed me to do stuff I hated.“

After seeing you and the MTV crew took me back to good/bad old days. I realized I missed Dale Pon.

Back in the day I didn’t know he was a mentor. I only knew he gleefully pushed me to do stuff I hated. In the end I realized you and he knew what was better for me than what I knew. Someday I’ll learn my lesson.

Steve Linden and I went to shoot with Dale for WNBC [AM]. He asked us to meet him at Windows on the World bar for drinks and dinner. He showed up two hours later and Steve and I were suitably toasted. Then he insisted we join him in a very alcoholic dinner. I was so hungover the morning of the shoot I didn’t know how I could direct the talent, Don Imus. Dale apologized for needing to shoot something first so we didn’t roll my spot until the afternoon. Saved my ass.

Many more memories. The weirdest was him in the Colossal bathroom cleaning crabs of their guts for a surprise picnic in the middle of our animation camera shoot.

…..

David Hyman: “[He] always confused the waitresses.”

Here’s mine:

Dale came up with the name of my company, Gracenote.  I think that just came really easy to him.  

For a while he was a really great teacher to me. I stubbornly couldn’t take the occasional abuse that went with it, even though it was probably good for me. I was honored to be asked as the voice over for a $30 million tv ad campaign by Dale and encouraged to do voice over work. Thrilling to be informed I had career chops outside of sales & marketing.

Dale is the only person i know that would always order two margaritas for himself (at the same time). It always confused the waitresses.

.....

With Dale Pon @WHN Radio. 1977, New York City.

It was against all odds, but my late 70s stint in country music radio hooked me up with a mentor who made the difference.

Before I got to New York’s 1050 WHN, I was aware of the station. Well aware. Sometime in 1976, my friend/future partner/father of my beloved nephew and niece, Alan Goodman, asked me whether I’d seen some giant subway posters (the top photo above). Of course, I’d noticed them, with large portraits of Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, The Eagles, Charlie Pride, Loretta Lynn, Kenny Rogers, Olivia Newton-John, Linda Ronstadt and seemingly dozens of other traditional and contemporary stars of the era. There were so many, they seemed to be everywhere. And, they were gorgeous, well designed, in a sea of drop-dead-New York graffiti, hum drum posters, homeless campers and mess, standing out like nothing we’d ever seen down there before. Too bad it was for music we couldn’t stand.

After I got the job with the station’s creative director and ad man, Dale Pon (another story for another time), I found out a bit about the thinking at the station and the advertising campaign. How did a city that was the home of the most sophisticated popular music of all time –to the likes of Duke Ellington, George Gershwin, Irving Berlin, Frank Sinatra– welcome the shitkickers in and become the second most popular radio station in the United States (or the world, for that matter)?

Dale was the supremely gifted Vice President of Creative Services, and he introduced me to Ed Salamon, the station’s innovative program director (Neil Rockoff was the General Manager who brought them together), who used a Top 40 radio approach* to country radio, upending the entire (typical New Yorker’s) notion that country music hadn’t evolved since Hank Williams.

No ordinary radio promotion guy, Dale had been a media buyer at Ogilvy, a radio upstart (a mild description) when the world switched from AM to “progressive” FM, and run radio ad sales teams. In the 80s, he would go on to successfully run his own advertising agency, and together we started one of the most famous media campaigns of all time, “I Want My MTV!”).  

Dale Pon wasn’t going to promote the station as cowboy boots and hats, like the last team did. He wanted big ratings for WHN, big ratings. They all did.

* If you’re interested, Ed’s written a book that details his contrarian, and wildly successful, methods called WHN: When New York Went Country.  

WHN Radio illustrations from top to bottom, all creative direction by Dale Pon 1977: New York City subway station double truck posters (L-R) Olivia Newton-John (obscured), Linda Ronstadt, Elvis Presley; Olivia Newton-John; Kenny Rogers; Television/Radio Age cover ads; Linda Ronstadt double truck subway poster.

.....

I Want My MTV! Early 1980s, New York City.

MTV had been on the air for six months and we’d fired the storied Ogilvy & Mather and hired Dale Pon’s LPG/Pon (a joint venture with George Lois) at my insistence. Now they were presenting their first trade campaign for advertisers and cable operators and my first big decision was being called into question. America is fast becoming a land of Cable Brats! “It’s audacious! Outrageous! Just like you guys.” George Lois was a big talker, a big seller, and a bit of a smart ass, loudmouth. He was also smart. Even though I knew he designed the “cable brats” thing, it was my brilliant mentor Dale, who’d never steered me wrong creatively or strategically, who was behind the whole thing. His ex-girlfriend, and now one of my best friends, Nancy Podbielniak, had written the copy. Besides, I agreed with Dale that generally trade advertising was a waste of time and bigger waste of money. Consumers were where it’s at, and weren’t all the tradesmen we were hopping to reach consumers too? If we had a knockout punch of consumer advertising our job would be done. I knew he was keeping his powder dry for the big show.

America is fast becoming a land of Cable Brats! There’s an incorrigible new generation out there. They grew up with music. They grew up with television.  So we put ‘em both together – for the Cable Brats, and they’re taking over America! They’re men and women in the 18 to 34 age range advertisers want most – plus the increasingly important 12 to 17 segement. The Cable Brats buy all the high volume, high ticket, high tech, high profit products of modern America. They’re strong-willed, cunning, crazily impulsive – an advertiser’s peerless audience. They look and listen and they want their MTV. And they buy, buy, buy. Rock'n'Roll wasn’t enough for them – now they want their MTV. (The exploding 24-hour Video Music Cable Network (and it’s Stereo!)

George was certainly right. It was audacious, and it was a touch outrageous. Somehow, the tone wasn’t quite right, but after the crap Ogilvy had done for us, it was way better. Besides, hidden in there was the sand grain that was going to lead us to our pearl.

.....

I Want My MTV! 1982, New York City.

I WANT MY MTV! took the phenomenon that had taken over the imaginations of young America and supercharged it into a famous brand with just about everyone in the country. I just googled [in 2010]  “I Want My MTV” and it popped up almost 4,760,000 results. Pretty amazing for an advertising campaign that ceased to exist 22 years ago.* Pretty potent.   The whole thing was the work of my mentor and friend Dale Pon. He’d been my first boss in the commercial media, at WHN Radio in New York when it was a country music station. He’d recommended me for my job at Warner Amex Satellite Entertainment Company, as the production director of The Movie Channel, and eventually as the first Creative Director of MTV: Music Television. We’d fallen in and out over the years, but in late 1981, when it came time for us to hire an advertising agency again –at first, the top dog had vetoed Dale as not heavy enough for a company like ours– with a lot of help from my immediate boss Bob Pittman, I was able to convince everyone that Dale understood media promotion better than anyone else in America. Anyone. Besides, didn’t he have “insurance” with his partner, legendary adman George Lois?

Dale Pon (via MTV: The Making of a Revolution)

No one had ever encountered an ad executive like Dale, because he had the unique ability to be completely and analytically strategic –”math and magic” Pittman might call it– and be wildly, and intelligently, creative at the same time. An almost unheard of combination, especially in media advertising. Sure, he had a volatile nature, in advertising that was often a given (look at his partner). But it was his strategic, creative abilities that really set him apart.

We’d already done our first trade campaign, the “Cable Brats,“ to the discomfort of most of the suits in the corporate marketing group (Bob and his team, me included, were in programming). But Dale didn’t buy into the efficacy of trade ads anyhow, so now were onto the big show, television advertising. The only problem was that we all recognized that an effective campaign would cost about $10,000,000. Our budget only had $2,000,000, and if we didn’t spend it quickly the corporate gods would probably take it away in the fall.

"I want my Maypo” commercials, created by John Hubley

Looking back, the core creative ended up being the most straightforward part. Dale’s closest friend and creative partner, Nancy Podbielniak had written the cable brats copy and had a tag line “Rock'n'roll wasn’t enough for them – now they want their MTV!” That rung a bell in George Lois, someone who never missed a chance to abscond with someone else’s good idea, and decided to rip off his own knock off of a Maypo campaign from the 1950s and 60s (animator John Hubley originated it as a set famous animated spots, and George had unsuccessfully knocked it off using sports stars) and presented a storyboard that completely duplicated his version. Rock stars like Mick Jagger were saying “I Want My MTV” and crying like babies, implying they were spoiled children being denied. No one was buying it until Dale let me know that there was no way he’d ask Pete Townshend or Mick to cry for us. “Pride! They need to show their pride in rock'n'roll! They’ll be shouting!” After a little corporate fuss we were able to sell it in.

AMERICA! DEMAND YOUR MTV!

Now, it was the next part that was completely and utterly brilliant. Because Dale came from the school that great creative was all well and good, but unless it could move the business needle, what good was it? In this case, the needle wasn’t ratings (cable TV didn’t have ratings in 1981), but active households, distribution for MTV. Cable operators were all relatively old guys who thought The Weather Channel was a better idea; they’d turned a deaf ear to their younger employees who were clamoring for us instead.

To dramatically simplify the strategy Dale organized, he decided to only advertise in markets where:

• There was enough penetration to justify a modest ad spend.

• But where there were critically large cable operators on the fence about taking MTV.

• And that we could afford a 300 gross rating point buy (three times heavier as any consumer products agency would suggest) for at least four weeks in a row (the traditional media spend would call for pulsing 10 days on and 10 days off).

The “G” in LPG/Pon was Dick Gershon. Along with data from our affiliate group, he crunched and crunched and crunched until he came up with a list of markets and dates we could afford. It was 20% of what we needed, but everyone figured if we could really start to knock off a bunch of cable systems, get them actually launch our network, the domino effect would solidify MTV’s hold on the market forever.

Strategy in place, the creative was back on the front burner. The basic campaign was a great way to get famous rock stars endorsing our channel, but where was the close? What would actually make the 'ka-ching’ we needed? Luckily, back in the day there was only one way to for a homeowner get anything from your reluctant jerk of a cable operator (they figure they held all the cards, why should they do anything to make life better for their consumers?). And what was it that young adults loved to do? Dale knew immediately.

No one alive in front of a television set in the summer of 1982 could ever forget

Pete Townshend, with the wackiest haircut of his career, shouting at the video camera:

“America! DEMAND your MTV! Call your cable operator and say, "I WANT MY MTV!!”

We shot the spots wherever the rock stars would have us for 20 minutes (they still weren’t really sure this MTV: Music Television thing was going to be good for them). Our director and producer, Tommy Schlamme and Buzz Potamkin, got together with some puppeteers to choreograph the 'dancing’ stereo television. I asked my partner to go into the studio to edit the music sections when they weren’t rocking enough, and ��poof!– famous advertising.

Nothing to it, yes?

* For comparison, “I Want My Maypo” posts 112,000 results on Google. Or “Where’s the beef?”, another famous 1980’s campaign for Wendy’s returns 176,000 (or if you only use that phrase, which has been appropriated for all sorts of uses, you get 2,640,000).

.....

“Mee, mee, me, meeee!” MTV Networks Online, 1999/2000 New York City

MTV got Sonicnet in the middle of another transaction they thought would be more important. But as the internet heated up in the business world’s consciousness, Sonicnet.com became something they thought to pay attention to. Which meant that, as president of MTV Networks Online, I was trying to help make the thing successful.

MTV had also acquired a then-unique personalized radio application. Coupled with Sonicnet, we decided an ad campaign would supercharge the site, something large media folks like us thought was necessary. (It wasn’t.*)

Over a few objections, I hired my brilliant, challenging mentor Dale Pon to create our campaign. Dale had done our the iconic “I Want My MTV” for me in the early 1980s and constantly proved himself to be the most creative and effective media ad man in America. The stunningly talented and perfectly musical film director Tim Newman was already on our online staff (after turning his back on a career that included some of the greatest music videos of all time), so he was really the only person who we thought could direct the spots. Dale hustled our head of marketing, David Hyman, into his one and only –and perfect– voice acting job. (And, I should put in a word for the Sonicnet logo. Designed by AdamsMorioka, from a concept developed by Fred Graver.

You can see for yourself that Dale knew how conceive big ideas to bring out the best from stars. With Tim in the director’s chair, the results were pretty stunning. And, to cap it, Dale really knew how to use MTVi’s clout to reach for the stars (like Isaac Hayes, James Brown, Joshua Bell, Jewel, Pat Metheny, Sheryl Crow, Beenie Man, Gang Starr, Faith Hill, Lindsey Buckingham, Don Henley, Al Jarreau, Alice Cooper, Blink 182, Kenny Wayne Shephard, Bon Jovi, Buck Cherry, Charlotte Church, Christina Acquilera, Dwight Yoakam, The Ruff Ryders, Eve, Johnny Resnick (The Goo Goo Dolls), kd lang, Buck Cherry, Kelis, Lindsey Buckingham, Melissa Etheridge, Moby, Seal, Sisqo, Static X, SheDaisy, Hillary Hahn, Charlotte Church, Yo Yo Ma, and Sting.)

This campaign, like every other one I’d worked on with Dale over the decades, was a hoot. One of the best things to come out of my one year in the early corporate internet. 

…..

* IMHO, one of the great mistakes media companies made during Web 1.0, was thinking that their traditional audience reach would give them huge advantage in building web destinations. They’d made the exact same mistake in the transition from broadcast to cable. It didn’t occur to them in either era that a basic misunderstanding of the newest medium –not knowing what the audience wanted from the upstarts– would not attract anyone to their websites.

And, by the by, the same mistake has been made from popular websites bungling the transition to mobile. And, so it goes.

[hybrid-machine]

Fire Trine - April 2019

Personal reflection on energy textures:

All this Fire Trine energy, and Aries energy. Potent time! My mind is going crazy with ideas. Creativity and confidence peaked.

Fire trines (which is an equilatoral triangular formation between planets transiting fire constellations (sag-Leo-Aries)) are great times for starting projects.

I've typically always travelled around the April time, or made huge leaps in decisions that met my spirits demands at the time. It's a very primal, instinctual, spark of inspiration.

Fire trines have also given me potent creativity, sometimes poetry, endless sketching, I once did a candlelit finger paint session and produced some of my best work. It's a primal, sensuous act to be in touch with our own inner world this way.

Me being a scorp, who's secondary planet is Mars (co-ruled by Aries), I become 'activated' by fire energy. I come to life, all my inward watery gifts come to conscious awareness and expression. I'm able to articulate what is normally locked away in the inexpressible symbols/feelings/ impressions.

So much watery depth makes me too emotional, sensitive, too slow, too slumbersome, too cautious, too fearful. Throw in a bit of fire in the mix, and POW I've awakened my subconscious - I become a powerhouse of creative and transformative energy. This is why I mix well with fiery friends and lovers. I'm an intense person and I require deep connection, deep conversation, deep stimulation, deep learning, deep nourishment. Fire has this boundless, almost equally intense energy in another sense - but quite positive and assertive. Yang energy. It can burn me out if I let it dominate, say I listen to a very talkative friend teach me something and I neglect to take a break from the brilliance of their mind :p

And it's funny I've noticed some friends around me getting all intensely angry for no real reason. And I realise they're Aries kids! Their poor brains are getting fried by this Fire Trine.

Anyway. Point is I've suddenly come out of my reclusive shell all at once after years of haziness and darkness. And I suddenly realise what I want, with clarity. Turns out my values I've held for a long time, I just needed to explore and doubt myself first in order to come full circle and find my instinctive nature is my true nature. I held myself back as I felt I didn't fit, nothing really catered to my intensity and sensitivity, but what I discovered is I can forge my own path. I can network and make it happen in my own way. I want to be a healer but going about it in the typical ways doesn't work. I require fluidity and deep connection, and I can't get that through being a rigid psychologist/researcher. I can't get it from existing structures. This world needs new solutions. And I feel I don't quite connect with the alternative medicines, or the festival cultures, all meaning started to slip away after spending time in these places and still feeling out of place! I wanna create a new mode of helping people connect within themselves! I just had to listen to my deep needs!

I'm still debating whether art provides that means to express healing on a much larger scale through symbolism, as I'm an animation student having doubts about the regimented and dry experience of assignments. I had this idea of expressing psychological/ philosophical healing modalities through beautiful art or animation, but I think it's narrow minded of me to try and slot myself into only one career. I'm way too fluid for that. I'll keep pushing on in the studies, but I think I get a huge sense of reward from connecting to humans in a multitude of modes - to generate a 'career' of my own calling. Networking in social media makes it that much more fluid and achievable.

This time is really asking me:

Do I need to keep doing the same tasks, or have I learned enough to progress onto the next task?

A re-evaluation. What is important to me right now? What are my values?

Overall restlessness and understimulation. Am I in the right environment?

What projects would I like to bring into the world?

Where can I use my gifts? Where is it needed?

How can I best boost these abilities? Who can I connect with to help each other?

Touch base with your roots. Forest bathe, go for a hike, go back to your home country and see family. Ancestral loving energy is important.

Maybe even fucking book a ticket to Canada/USA, again. The urge to travel to where I feel compelled is strong again.

The heart don't lie! The heart wants those mountains!

[susandsnell]

whaaat Hadestown sounds awesome!!! i’ll definitely check both those out but it sounds like Hadestown is like, the style of my dreams. also anything that starts as a folk opera is awesome bc i love the concept of a folk opera. follow up: i’ve seen some things about Be More Chill and somehow missed its jump to Broadway? what’s it about?

Sorry I took a day to get back to you, musical anon, but I just had to write my penultimate final first thing this morning! Hadestown is the style of everyone’s dreams, and I really hope you like it when you do check it out. It’s incredibly unique. 

As to your second query, permit me to have some obnoxious gif usage because life is short and I am now permanently on my bullshit. And, well. You just asked me, Coco, about Be More Chill.

WELCOME TO HELL. YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE NOW. 

(Festive, right?) 

So! 

Be More Chill is a very loose adaptation of a (vastly different and quite offensive) 2004 novel by the same name. It did the work of my dreams, which is combine my two favourite genres, science fiction and musical theatre, in a big way, while also stealth being a narrative about mental health, recovery, friendship, love, and sexy computers.  Also, the songs are absolute bops and the music style is contemporary but still unmistakably Broadway. It’s also openly inspired by Little Shop of Horrors (while also being very much in the vein of other wacky, culty musicals like Reefer Madness, a bit of Rocky Horror thrown in, etc), which is a major plus. 

It’s a darkly hilarious, sci-fi-horror-teen drama-romance-musical, in short. 

In long??? A little gist: 

So, our leading man, Jeremy Heere, is a (canonically Jewish! Canonically Jewish! CANONICALLY JEWISH!!!) typical high school geeky outcast who struggles with severe anxiety, self hatred, and a vast panoply of other issues. He’s badly bullied, only has one friend, Michael Mell, who is quite literally the savior of the universe, and crushes on the local theatre kid (and a literal queen), Christine Canigula. In an effort to impress her, he takes the advice of the local bully, Rich, and buys a pill from the back of a Payless shoe store called a SQUIP (short for Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor), which, if ingested and activated by Mountain Dew (just go with it I promise it’s worth it), installs a computer chip in his brain that can manifest the illusion only he can see of a personification that is an intensely attractive person (has been cast as multiple genders depending on the production!!!) who will instruct him on what the right thing to do or say is so that he can overcome his perceived social and personal failings, and improve himself, and maybe get the girl. 

Of course, this thing goes evil, and absolute epic mayhem ensues. 

Where do I even start with what I love about this musical? 

The characters are incredibly true to life; literally nobody is who they seem to be in terms of typical high school, sci fi, or even theatre tropes. which is part of the ultimate message (and I love that!!!) Jeremy’s narrative is very much a subversion of the typical entitled-nerd-boy-goes-wild-trying-to-get-the-girl, because his actions and mistakes are steeped very much in long lasting mental health struggles (he literally mentions having to go to the nurse constantly due to his anxiety attacks), as well as a heartrendingly realistic and depressing home life, and the show is very clear about this, pulling no punches. He’s flawed, he’s sweet, he’s funny, he’s tragic, he’s redemptive, he’s just…wonderful. 

Michael, who in any other show would be ‘the goofy best friend’ character and that’s it gets an incredible arc showing his brilliance, and his own inner demons, including the big showstopper Michael In The Bathroom, which is famous not only for being an incredible song, but because it goes there; it depicts the entirety of a severe panic attack in gut-wrenching detail. All set to awesome music, of course. His depth is revealed in that the otherwise cheerful, happy-go-lucky best friend character whose life seems to revolve around the protagonist’s brought to the logical conclusion of this archetype; extreme codependency and other mental health struggles. This is by no means all that he is – I’d explain why, and what an incredible, positive, heroic character he is, but I won’t dare spoil where his arc ends up going. 

Christine Canigula, our leading lady, is a badass feminist and so much more than a perky theatre kid; she’s shown to struggle much in the same ways Jeremy and Michael do, she’s politically involved and dedicated, while still being desperately uncertain about what to do with her life, her entire character is dedicated to subverting expectations (all her big numbers end with a subverted rhyme to prove this!!), she’s developed so much more than other love interest characters, and is in so many ways so much more than a love interest. She’s fiercely intelligent, but tempted to take the easy route to popularity in different ways than Jeremy, while being more inclined to being true to herself, and her autonomy drives the plot. She’s also canonically a woc who has ADHD and she’s a gun control advocate. Like??? When will your faves ever?  Her romance is believable and wonderful and driven by what she wants and her arc, while subtle, is integral to the plot. 

I could do a paragraph for each character (and if you’re on my blog, I’ll probably get around to writing meta for each of them), but the popular kids, the bullies, even the apparently useless parent character…none of them are what they seem. As for the SQUIP, I don’t dare reveal the awesomeness of that particular villain, except to say that it’s a metaphor for…a number of things, while incredibly enthralling, and The Pitiful Children, the big villain song, is honestly up there with any of your Disney villains for a truly epic sci-fi experience. It’s a completely irredeemable villain whose appeal lies in its irredeemability, especially fascinating because it’s a machine, and hence gains no sadistic pleasure from it’s evildoing; it merely seeks results, which is just chilling. 

The cast is incredibly diverse, and there is a TON of LGBT+ representation, including Michael having lesbian mothers, a completely non-stereotyped bisexual male character who ACTUALLY CALLS HIMSELF BISEXUAL OUT LOUD, and who is arguably the most tragic character in the show, but that tragedy is separate almost entirely from his orientation, and more. 

While being lighthearted sci-fi fare, it deals pretty straightforwardly with a number of heavy topics, such as mental illness, suicidal ideation, extreme loneliness, self-hatred, isolation,  trauma, abuse, sexual orientation, dysfunctional families, dysfunctional friendships, existential crises, near-death experiences, brainwashing, addiction, bullying, torture (of the sci-fi variety but still pretty damn hard to watch), and even (albeit briefly, but it still bears mention) male sexual assault, and handles all of them exceptionally well, never overdoing it on any of them (they’re interwoven and sometimes entirely subtextual to the plot) but also being honest enough about the fact that some of our darkest moments include incredibly dark comedy, all while never making light of these serious issues. That being said, consider this the trigger warning paragraph if any of that’s a limit for you! They’re so wonderfully balanced by a narrative of healing and forgiveness and loyalty and love that it makes the story all the stronger; seeing everyone facing these awful things, and being able to overcome them together. 

It’s also the type of sci-fi that I love; the kind that, like Back to the Future, Weird Science, and Stranger Things embraces a retro aesthetic, and is a smaller, singular fantastical/sci-fi element contained in a setting that is otherwise very recognizable to our world; the kind of adventures you feel like you could have between your own classes. The sci-fi effects and costumes are incredible, especially in Act 2. 

AND, and and and, It’s an underdog story within an underdog story; it opened in a regional theatre in Jersey for a limited run in 2015 and closed very quickly, and everyone assumed it would never be picked up again, but in Winter 2017, it blew up by sheer word of mouth due to a combination of the original cast album being on Spotify and the popularity of certain amateur productions since it got licenced; eventually, it got a 2017 regional theatre revival at Exit 82, and that sparked an online fandom so strong that the show got a second chance with an off-Broadway run that happened this past summer, which in turn got so successful that the show is transferring to Broadway. All the way from a seemingly failed regional limited run, with most of the original cast (who are darlings, as are the creators, incredibly empathetic people bringing this wonderful, weird, warm story to the forefront). And who doesn’t love the meta of the show itself being an underdog when the cast is entirely of underdogs?

Just. Please. Do yourself a favour and check it out. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll cheer.  I heard about it only peripherally since around mid-2017 ish and then only really got into it this past May/June, and….gosh. My life’s gotten so much better since. I’ve met dear friends through the fandom, dragged other dear friends into this glorious pit, and the show, as a narrative of healing, is helping to heal me, too. 

Possibly a new all-time favourite. 

[astoldbyacertifiedunicorn]

Japril Appreciation Week: Day 5 ⇒ AU or a scene you wish happened

slightly m rated? 

"Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." She paused, smiling graciously towards her class, "Does anyone want to tell me where that's from?" 

 It was her first official class and she was more than enthusiastic to start the classes this year. Classic literature; the subject that had enamored her since the first time she had studied it. Being the nerdy bookworm that she was a child, her nose in a book at every waking moment, literature had been her reprieve. Books took her away from her reality. In books, she had friends and she could be anyone she wanted to be. Plus, a subject where one had to read poetry and novels and short stories for school work? Yes please. It's what she did on a daily basis anyway. Her love for it had only grown and had eventually pushed her to pursue it academically, and after that professionally. 

 She was a published author of 2 bestselling free verse poetry books and had the absolute pleasure of lecturing at Columbia University as a senior lecturer of the literature department. She loved her work. She loved educating young children, see the spark in their eyes as they discover poets they relate to, novels that they can't put down and pieces of work that makes them lose hope in humanity and simultaneously gain it. John Keating had been right. The things beyond literature were all noble pursuits, necessary for sustenance, but literature was love, it was friendship, it was life. It was impertinent. 

 She pointed to a very pretty brunette in the front row, who was waving her hand enthusiastically, reminding her of herself.

 "Dead Poet's Society. It's the movie that convinced me to take this course." She replied, smiling widely. 

 "That's wonderful, Miss ..."

 "Hinks. Lora Hinks." 

 She smiled at the girl and continued on, "Everyone one of you had a book, movie, piece of poetry or even person that inspired you to consider this course. For me it was, as clichè as this may sound, Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet to be precise. You see-" 

 She went on to explain her reasoning, reiterating the perfectly prepared speech she delivers in every first class, when she heard a small cough sound from behind her. She outwardly rolled her eyes, knowing exactly whom it was that had interrupted her. 

 "Professor Avery. What can I do for you?" She asked, false niceness oozing from her voice. 

"Professor Kepner, I am here to observe your class. Were you not made aware of my being here?" He replies, stepping into the classroom, earning a few rounds of gasps from students who had clearly being waiting for an opportunity to see their devastatingly handsome Dean once more. 

 April, having gotten used to people's reactions towards her colleague, rolled her eyes once more. 

 "No, actually, I wasn't made aware. So if you don't mind-" 

 "Oh well, must have slipped my mind." He says, his careless tone accompanied by a cold smile. 

 She could sense the students starting to understand that there was a hostile tension between the two, some cocking their eyebrows in confusion, unable to understand why their beautiful Dean had to be a jerk to the most loved member of the faculty. Professor Kepner's kindness was as popular knowledge as their Dean's cold, disengaged attitude. The latter seemingly more obvious with the way he was treating her. 

 "I'm sure it did." She muttered, although loud enough for everyone to hear. 

 "Well, Professor Kepner, carry on." He waved a hand, walking up the steps of the lecture halls and taking a seat in an empty row.

 "Um, yes, where was I? Okay, let's see ..." She was clearly flustered, her annoyance at his actions painstakingly clear. 

 "You were telling us how Shakespeare inspired you." Lora whispered.

 "Oh yes, thank you. Anyway-"

 "Quite forgetful, aren't we Professor?" 

 "No I am not. I am merely-"

 "Distracted? From the moment I walked in. Hm, I wonder why-"

 "There's no need to wonder, Professor. I was ... distracted, for a lack of a better word, because barging into a classroom unannounced is highly unprofessional. But I wonder why you forgot to inform me of your presence today. Old age, perhaps?" She remarked, smiling innocently at him. 

 She heard a few concealed snickers from the crowd although some students were too gob smacked, clearly wondering if she was insane enough to risk her career by back talking the Dean. 

 He wasn't by any means old. He was actually only 5 years her senior. However, his family having made considerable donations to the university overtime had ensured that by the time the old Dean had retired, he would be hired for the job, although he lacked the experience. She knew, whatever said and done, he hadn't wanted the job out of nepotism. She knew hating him for that reason was unwarranted. 

 "Continue." He merely said, and she grinned knowing she had won this one.

 "I actually hated Romeo and Juliet. It's true. I thought, God how stupid could they be? Dying for someone you knew all of 3 days? Falling in love to that capacity when you were 14? 16? No. So I came to the conclusion that Shakespeare was overrated." She stated, seeing a collective surprise for such a bold statement, even from the one person she was trying very hard to ignore. 

 "Until I realised, what if... what if Romeo and Juliet was actually a satirical commentary on lust filled teenage relationships? Not a love story at all, but a story about how insipid young love truly is. The possibility opened my mind to the realization that literature is yours to discover. You adapt it to fit your mold and I loved that." 

 She finished, looking on to see her student's allowing that interpretation to sink in. She loved it when she reached through to them. 

 "A bit of a cynic, aren't we?" Jackson asked, scoffing at her analysis.

 "I'm sorry, I almost forgot you were there for a minute," she replied, "and no, I am not a cynic. I more or so believe that Shakespeare is capable of portraying love better, take his-"

 "Sonnet 124? Let me not to the marriage?"

 She doesn't know why she's surprised. His brilliance wasn't a point of contention, it was even part of his charm. 

 "Yes, but-"

 "And you're saying teenagers can't feel that way, because?" He questioned, eyebrow raised and a cocky grin to boot. 

 "Because," she stammered, angry at herself for letting him rile her up, "Teenage relationships are transcendent. They are not made to last. They are lustful, driven strongly by hormones and rom-com expectations of romance." 

 "Well, aren't we bitter?" He says, eyebrows raised, standing up from his chair.

 "I'm not-I'm not bitter, I'm just being ... realistic." She feels the heat rise to her cheeks, mostly because she hates admitting to herself that he may be partially right. 

 "Hm, but you are. Let me guess, failed high school romance or ... boys scared you too much, Miss Kepner?" He teases, and she knows he's not being malicious because she knows he's addressing her virgin status she had kept until she'd met him, because there was no way he knew about her high school days. Maybe he does, she thought, maybe it was just that obvious to anyone. She just hadn't ever expected him to be one of them.

 So she strikes back, best way she knows how, even though she knows right now she's going to regret the moment she does.

 "Well you would know quite a lot about dating a teenager wouldn't you, Professor?" 

 The dead silence in the room doesn't help. She knows some of them had heard the rumours, and she can see their eyes widening at the boldness of her accusation and the curiousness of those who were unaware. 

 She doesn't let herself look at him, because she knows she screwed up, but then decides that she needs to know the extent of his anger to fully deduce the damage she's done.

 She can see a mixture of emotions in his perfect face. Suprise, anger, hurt and the worst of all, betrayal. She wants to run her fingers over his forehead and smooth the frown he's sporting although his eyes have changed colour like they also do depending on his mood. They're an angry black now and she knows she shouldn't have expected any less. 

 "I will see you at the meeting this evening, Professor." He finally says, exiting the room without a momentary glance her way. 

 She wants to run after him, aplogise furiously for what she said, let him know she only suspects the truth of that statement in her most insecure moments but quickly dispels it because she knows he's too good for it to be true. But she can't, she has a class awaiting her to continue to the lecture, maybe even comment on the situation and she's not ready to face him. She's hurt too.

 They only pretended to be snarky, so that no one would even suspect their alliance, which was formed one night, a couple of months back, when she had been in his office, late, surrounded by mountains of papers. It had been building up since she’d first met him at his welcome dinner. The sum of the looks shared and intense gazes held for too long was her skirt on the floor and the warmth of a fireplace next to her exposed skin.

 It was supposed to be easy, fun, nothing too overwhelming. Yet here she was, scared because she's found herself doing the one thing she said she wouldn't when she started sleeping with the Dean; fall for him and fall for him hard. 

She's pretty sure the approval for the arts department in her budget isn't an 'I forgive you.' She's not really sure what it is. Maybe it really doesn't have anything to do with her. Although, she knows that's not true. She knows he loves her enthusiasm for her subject and when it comes to approving the funds she rarely asks for, he's always been willing. Even before all of... this. Maybe it's a guilt trip. If it is, then mission accomplished. 

 "Hi, Izzie. Is Professor Avery free? I need to run some papers by him." She smiles warmly at his gorgeous secretary, who sits right outside her office in her beautiful pencil skirt and pink blouse that never creases. She's always been a slight insecure when it comes to her, but Izzie has always been warm, kind and loving. And if she'd ever thought about why her of all people would make such constant visits to the Dean she supposedly hated, she didn't let it show. 

 "Um, you know what, let me check." She smiles back, but April can tell she's not as willing to help her out as she usually is. Jackson is a good friend of hers, beyond the fact that they're colleagues. And he's her husband Alex's best friend. She'd understand her picking her loyalties. 

 She gets up and walks off, and April digs her heels into the carpeted floor, and runs her hands across the wooden desk. She feels the guilt coming back up again, and she pushes it down. She crossed a line, she knew that. But, she's hoping he forgives her, because she's really starting to need him to. 

 After what seems like a good 20 minutes or so, right before April decides that maybe it's all over, and she screwed everything up like she always does, Izzie's head pops out of the door. 

 "You can come in." She says, and holds the door open for her. 

 April walks into the room, familiar and warm, with the fireplace and the large mahogany desk she's very accustomed to, and the leather couch she's even more accustomed to. She glances at him and her heart races. He's sat at the desk, but he's not looking up from his paperwork. 

 "Thanks Izzie, you can go home. Tell Alex I'll drop by later." He says, still concentrating heavily on his work. 

 "Sure thing. Good night, boss," Izzie replies and turns towards her, "Professor Kepner." 

 April whispers a quick goodnight, and almost wants Izzie to turn back and stay here, but she walks out the door and closes it behind her. 

 She takes a deep breath and turns towards him. 

 "Leave the papers on my desk." He says, his usual kindness lost to a clipped tone. 

 "Um, okay." She walks towards him, hands in the 2 papers she brought with her as an excuse. She could've very well just ask her TA to hand them in. 

 She walks up to his desk, and she notices how he shoots her a quick look, but stares back down. She sighs, realizing this is probably how he's going to be for the rest of the night. Maybe she should've waited. 

 She opens her mouth to say her carefully planned apology, when he looks up at her all of a sudden. She's naked under his gaze, and this time he's not looking at her in desire. He's angry, and a little sad. 

 "Is that all?" 

 "Uh-"

 "Okay then, goodnight Professor Kepner." 

 He glances away from her as quickly as he looks at her, and she's back to awkwardly standing in front of his desk. She bows her head down, and turns away. There's no point to it now. 

 She walks back a few steps, and suddenly turns to him. She won't leave without at least an explanation. If she'd screwed it up, he needs to know why. 

 "Duckie." 

 He looks up at her, confused, wondering if she'd said anything at all. He raises a brow and April realizes that she just said one word and he probably thinks she's crazy.

 "That-that's what they called me. In high school. Duckie." She avoids his gaze, looking down at her hands, but she can tell he's listening. 

 So she continues, "It's for.... it's for ugly duckling. I had braces, and acne and I had no idea how to condition my hair for the longest time. I was.... duckie. So no, boys didn't like me. They didn't even look at me. I actually preferred that, really. Because when they did look at me, it was to let me know how unattractive they thought I was. Kids can be mean."

 She shrugs, "I am- was... duckie. It's not easy growing up like that. That's why I said what I said. I was just... hurt. And I lashed out. And I hurt you. I am so sorry." 

 She can't help that there's a few tears, and she quickly wipes them off, hoping he doesn't notice. She carried the darkness into her adulthood. She carried all that ugliness they put into her, even though now she might be deemed beautiful by their stupid, shallow standards. April didn't care anymore, but she still carried Duckie in her back pocket. 

 She finally lets herself look up, and she sees his face. His eyes narrowed, he looks like he's ready to attack someone. His forehead is creased into worry lines, and if she thinks his eyes were dark before, now she could see a storm brewing inside. 

 "I'll go then." She says, finally, noticing how he doesn't say anything in return. She did her best, after all. 

 "April." 

 His voice, stops her from walking any further. She pauses, wonders for a second if she made it up in his head, and takes a chance. She turns around and tentatively looks at him. 

 His eyes are much softer, the blue hue he gets when he's sad. 

 "Lock the door." He commands, and a part of her doesn't want to get too happy about this. What if he just wants privacy before he breaks up with her? 

 She walks towards the door, placing her hands on the knob and pushes the lock in. She takes a deep breath and wonders what to do next. 

 "Come here?" He asks this time, rather than commands and it makes her want to sprint towards him. 

 She nods her head, and takes small steps towards him. She steps around his desk and stands in front of his chair, watching him swivel around and face her. He stands up then. 

 His hands fall to hers, and he takes them in his. He brings them to his lips, and he softly kisses her knuckles. 

 "I'm sorry they did that to you." His voice is soft, and she can't help some of the tears that fall down her cheek. 

 She shrugs her shoulders and feels his thumbs swipe across her cheeks, wiping away her stray tears. She doesn't mean to cry about this. Especially not in front of him. And yet, it's him who tends to make her the most vulnerable. 

 "It's alright." She mumbles.

 "It's not, really." 

 He pulls her in then, and wraps his arms around her body, and she's a little surprised but eventually she sets her head on chest and wraps herself neatly around him. Like puzzle pieces, she thinks. 

 "April, you're-" He begins, but she cuts him off, placing a finger across his mouth, and lingering it there for just a second after he'd shut up. 

 "Not now." She tells him, "After." 

 He grins, and she realizes that he meant something very different to what she did. 

 She blushes, but looks up at him, her face determined, no longer shying away, "I'm sorry." 

 "It's okay," He says, nodding to confirm his words, "But I didn't... I would never-" 

 "I know that! Of course I know that! I was just... speaking out of my ass." She sighs, and then blushes because she's not even crude enough to say the word 'ass'. 

 "Well, it's a very cute ass, so you're forgiven." He teases, and she swats him, the blush deepening. 

 "I didn't care that you said it," He continues, pulling her against him, dropping his hands to her waist, "I cared that you thought I was that kind of a guy." 

 "I know you're not," She tells him, as he hooks his thumbs on the belt loops on her skirt, "You're...." 

 "What?" He whispers, as he leans his head down, placing a soft kiss on her earlobe.

 She gasps, momentarily losing her train of thought, "You're... a really good person." 

 "Yeah?" His voice is low against her ear and his hands drop to the edges of her skirt, scrunching up the material around his fists.

 "Yeah." 

 "I'm glad you think so." He says, turning her around. 

 She reaches her arms out to hold the sharp edge of the mahogany, the wood rough under her skin. He pulls her behind to meet his front, and she moans in preparation of what is to come. 

 "We need to tell people," She manages to squeeze out, even though his hands are moving across her lower body, angling her just the way he wants her. 

 "You know what they'll say right?" He asks her, and she nods. She's very well aware of the consequences of going public with him. It's the reason she's pushed it off for so long. 

 "I know, but... I don't care anymore." She breathes, as his hands roughly pull her up against him, her back colliding with his chest. 

 "The rumours will only get worse," He whispers, his breath tickling the back of her neck, as she pushes back into him. 

 "Let them. I don't want to pretend to hate you anymore, because I don't. Quite the opposite, actually."

 She can almost feel his grin. He loves it when she doesn't give a crap, when she's confident in them, when she's confident, period. 

 "I agree." He bends her fully over the desk, and she slides her hands forward, papers falling off into heaps of messes on the floor. She's usually neurotic, but she can never bring herself to care in these moments.

 "You know, Professor Kepner, I read poetry in my free time." 

 She hears the zip of his pants being pulled down, and a slight shuffling of material as they a soft thump follows with his pants hitting the carpet. 

 "Really?"

 She pretends not to have read his collections, in bed, at his place, after they've made love. 

 "She walks in beauty, like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies." 

 She chuckles breathlessly, unable to process the fact that he was murmuring Byron in her ears, while pulling down her panties. 

 "Jackson." She calls out for him, breath hitched, and teeth gritting against one another as he slips into her. 

 "Should I go on?" 

 "Please." 

THANK YOU FOR READING! 

[thekuroiookami]

The Sun that Embraces the Moon (Aomine x Reader) - Part 1

Inspired by this prompt from @otp-fanfic-ideas.

When they tell stories of the gods, they often get the details wrong. The deities were powerful, true, and long-lived, but in other things they were just as whimsical and capricious as humans, if not more so. That meant they could quarrel with each other, and hold grudges. There could be misunderstandings and fallings-out, as in any large family.

But when a god holds a grudge, and it is not immediately resolved, it tends to last some time. More than a mortal lifespan. So, when one wayward member of the moon clan fought with the goddess of food, it might have ended there had she not died in the altercation. Even then, it might not have escalated if the sun clan, whose sister she had been, had not made such a fuss. It might not have been the same if moon clan had owned up to their actions. Perhaps if the other clans hadn’t instigated trouble to resolve their own tensions with each other, it might have finished quietly.

Alas, retrospection is easy, and as the true storytellers know, the quarrel did not end there. Fanned by the flames of tangled jealousies, petty arguments and bruised egos, the clans went to war. And because it was a war among the gods, it went on for not ten, not fifty, not a hundred years.

It lasted a full thousand years.

Until now.

The battlefield was strewn with the bodies of demigods and humans alike. Perhaps the most saddening sight was the dead animals. At least the people had known what they were doing when they came to battle. Faithful companion wolves, fierce and beautiful, dead by the dozen, their sharp eyes glazed over. Handsome stallions and mares, some bleeding to death, others piteously neighing as they struggled to shift broken limbs. Magnificent eagles shot down out of the sky. Even a tiger, who fought to her last breath as she was cornered by a group with spears.

You set your jaw and pulled your mask down over your face, unable to bear the sight. It was time to end this once and for all. Diplomacy had been attempted, and it had failed. The only way left was to kill him, and force the Tsukishima clan to their knees. Then, and only then, could you bring peace to the land. You stopped when you reached the tall figure in the centre of the battlefield.

He turned after casually dispatching an attacker, flicking the blood off his blade. His voice was deep, smoky, with a hint of amusement.

“So you’re finally here. I wondered when they’d get desperate enough to send the sun goddess. Maybe you’ll actually pose a challenge, hmm?”

The moon god was just as arrogant as you’d heard. Certainly, anyone who wielded just a katana, wearing barely any armour, had to have a stupendous amount of confidence. He was also rumoured to be handsome, though you couldn’t make out his features under all the blood and grime. Was he…smiling?

His apparent enjoyment of the situation made you all the more determined to be victorious in this encounter. You readied your sword in front of you, a straight blade with a deadly edge and ornate hilt. Your voice was muffled slightly by the mask.

“And I never thought the Tsukuyomi would be so unimpressive. Here I was expecting you to have finished me off already, but all you do is talk. Can we end this sometime soon?”  

His derisive laugh made his white wolf’s ears prick up. The god didn’t shift his stance, however, merely hoisting his dripping sword over his shoulder, looking as relaxed as ever.

“Come at me then, little girl.”

You were halfway across the field before he finished the sentence. Your blade, Kusanagi, blazed with light and the scorching heat of a summer sun just as it came down over his head, making him flinch in surprise. His reflexes were no laughing matter, however, as he parried the blow and sliced across your torso in a potentially fatal cut, all in a single movement. You jumped back a few feet, taking a moment to assess the night deity.

It seemed he was doing the same. “You do have some fight in you after all. Can’t say the same thing for your cousin, seeing he’s dead.” Your grip on the hilt of your sword tightened at the mention of Miyaji, but you didn’t respond to the taunt. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t killed several Tsukishima members yourself. Their faces still haunted your thoughts, not that he would care.

The Tsukuyomi was circling you now, his shadowy robes flickering on the periphery of your vision. You sensed, rather than saw, the moment he fully shifted into his divine form, the power of his radiance rippling through the air. When he completed a full circle to stop in front of you, he was clad in full armour, the silvery metal emitting a subtle white glow. The high collar and long drape of his overcoat rustled in the wind. When he pointed his shining blade at you, his voice echoed with the brilliance of reflected stars, of velvety night, and seductive promise.

“Show me what you can do, Amaterasu of the Hinata clan.”

Since he had paid you the high compliment of taking on his strongest form to battle you, it was only fair you do the same. Your body lit with golden fire, shining gauntlets and chest plate forming around your luminous limbs. Several mortals and deities shaded their eyes, blinded by the brilliance of your form.

“I am honoured, Tsukuyomi.” Your words rang with the crackle of all-consuming heat and the chime of temple bells. “If you wish to die a splendid death, I will oblige.”

His smile only widened, the expression verging on deranged delight. “Famous last words.”

The force of steel on divine steel sent a shockwave through the air, toppling everything in the vicinity of the combatants. Around you, the war had almost halted entirely in favour of watching the heirs of the clans fight. To the human eye, the duel was a series of blurred flashes, gold sparking against silver. To you, it was a deadly dance of blades, of dodging and parrying and twisting, neither getting the better of the other.

You tried to end the deadlock by clamping a hand on his arm, melting through the armour like butter. Just as his skin began to scorch, the moon god retaliated by gripping back, twisting your arm painfully and driving a foot into your stomach. The blow sent you flying back, and you couldn’t stop yourself before you crashed into a castle tower. The force of the impact rocked the foundations, and the tower crumbled to the ground in a pile of stone. You gritted your teeth at the needless destruction.

The lunar deity sauntered over, armour reforming itself around his arm. “Good try, goddess. But you’ll have to do better than that to kill me.”

You smiled through the pain as you pulled yourself up with your sword. “Then how about this?”

The world exploded in a blaze of light and heat as you brought down a beam of pure, unfiltered sunlight. The air turned dry as the moisture was the abruptly evaporated, the ground left parched and cracked by the intense heat. Tsukuyomi staggered from the onslaught, steam rolling off his armour. As your mask shattered in pieces, unveiling your face, you noted with some satisfaction that he had been weakened, his bronze skin losing some of its glow.

He growled in rage, blade roiling with wisps of smoky power. You shifted to meet his charge, bracing for the force of his blow. It never came, because just then, the heavens split and you had one moment to feel the air sizzle before an enormous bolt of lightning tore the ground open. The moon god also stopped in surprise as a torrential rain began without warning, sluicing the blood off the both of you in rivulets of dark red. His eyes widened as a figure descended, untouched by the downpour.

“It can’t be…you were supposed to be asleep…” He sounded as disbelieving you felt.

In person, a dragon was every bit as awe-inspiring and terrifying as you had heard. The sinuous body coiled with hidden strength, the talons as long as your arm, the white scales tinged with red, and the ruby eyes that glinted with celestial power. The emperor of heaven had slumbered for the better part of a millennium, and he did not seem pleased to be awake.

Perhaps sensing the shocked intimidation he was inspiring, the dragon shimmered and reformed into a human shape. His voice was youthful yet low with the hint of danger.

“It has been an age since I took on this form. It is uncomfortable as ever, I see.” The Ryuujin swept his ruby gaze over you and the moon god.

Recovering your wits first, you sank into a deep bow. “Akashi-sama, what brings the lord of the skies here? Have you returned to rule as you once did?”

He turned the force of his stare your way, though it was softened by a small smile. “Not yet, daughter of the sun. I had no such intentions, but it seems I must interfere in this feud of yours. It is disturbing the balance of things.” He glanced at the deity standing next to you.

The lunar god, in his never-ending arrogance, merely inclined his head at the great king. The dragon seemed amused by Tsukuyomi’s reaction. “You are Aomine Daiki, are you not? The Tsukishima clan remains as proud as ever, I see. Such is the nature of the moon’s people, after all.”

Aomine drawled, as lackadaisical as ever. “I’d rather hear your plans for this war, Ryuujin.”

Akashi’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “Indeed. You will, firstly, as representatives of your houses, call an end to this quarrel. Tell your armies to lay down their weapons.”

Your head snapped up. “But Akashi-sama, we’ve tried-“

“Then,” said Akashi in a tone that brooked no argument, “you will create lasting peace between the gods. The sun and the moon lead the assembly, and it is up to you to set an example. Bind yourselves to a treaty so that this may never happen again.”

Aomine frowned. “They won’t agree so easily to the terms, you know that.”

The dragon god smiled chillingly. “Then we shall have to make it in their interests to comply.”

“How do you propose we achieve this, my lord?” You were as skeptical as Aomine. As much as you wanted peace, you didn’t think it was easily reached.

“By including a condition in the treaty that will ensure the clans cannot attack each other easily. By joining two houses irrevocably through their most prized possessions.”

Your eyes widened in growing horror. Aomine gripped his sword harder.

“You two,” continued Akashi calmly, “will have to get married.”

There was a clatter as your blade fell to the ground. You stood frozen as the implications began to creep over you. A lifetime…married to him. Your eyes met those of a frustrated Aomine’s. Trapped in his night-blue irises, your heart jolted and your blood sparked. The strange feeling made you short of breath. Was that…attraction?

You realized with a sinking feeling that the war was going to be nothing compared to what was ahead. It was one thing to risk your life for your family. It was another thing entirely to risk your heart with the man who hated you with a vengeance.

“Oh no.” Your voice was a horrified whisper.

Akashi smiled benevolently. “Oh yes. Congratulations, lady _____. Your wedding will end a war.”

[procyon-podcast-network]

HOME STRETCH! Our Kickstarter still has a little over one day left to go. We’re funded, but we would love to reach our stretch goal so we can pay all the hardworking folks who volunteered to help us make it possible. People like our artist, (@theoutsidervevo) sound engineer (@shapechangersinwinter) and musician (@sounddesignerjeans).

During our campaign, we updated weekly with Andrea Klassen (our Certified Journalist of the team) doing interviews with the creative teams of all our shows. In case folks on tumblr missed it, we’re also posting it here!

Below the cut: Andrea interviews Jess Best, the one-woman creative team behind The Strange Case of Starship Iris as she talks about her creating process, writing diverse characters, and her long-time love of podcasts and audio storytelling. 

In 2189, Earth narrowly won a war against extraterrestrials, but at a tremendous price. Two years later, in a distant patch of space, a mysterious explosion kills nearly the entire crew of the science vessel Starship Iris. The only survivor is Violet Liu, an intrepid, sarcastic, terrified biologist. But as Violet struggles to readjust to life after the Iris, questions abound. Was that explosion really an accident? If not, just what is going on? And why does every answer seem to get more bizarre and more dangerous? If Violet and her newfound allies want to untangle the truth, they’ll need courage, brilliance, and luck - and honestly, a couple of drinks.

Two episodes in, we've seen a pretty varied crew of individuals in Iris. What's character creation been like here?

I'm a huge sucker for any kind of a "ragtag group of misfits" story. I wanted every character to bring a very different attitude, and I wanted interesting dynamics between all of the characters. It happened pretty organically, I think.

[...]

There's a variety of races and genders and orientations among the crew, and that was pretty organic, too. Violet Liu was the first character I named, so I knew she was Chinese or Chinese-American from the start. Captain Tripathi was always going to be South Asian; the friend she's based on is, so it just felt natural. The dynamic between Violet and Kay was one of the first pieces I had, so clearly those characters weren't straight. It would've felt disingenuous to tell a story set in the future, in space, where you're not bound by geography, and write the leads as five straight cis white people. Like, what are the odds of that, really?

The rest is below the cut!

What was it that sparked the idea for The Strange Case of Starship Iris?

It was a culmination of a lot of things, I think. I've been really intense about podcasts for something like twelve years, and I always dreamed of making one. At the same time, as I got a little more confident in my writing, I wanted to script some sort of series with a close-knit ensemble cast. Obviously, it's a lot more affordable to do that when you don't have to worry about the visuals, especially when you factor in the sci-fi elements.

For me, setting a show in a spaceship solved a lot of the challenges of storytelling in an audio-only medium. I mean, I think you're probably on the same page on this, writing for Station to Station, which is set on a boat, and thinking about Procyon's other show, Under Pressure, which takes place in an underwater research station—You limit the number of characters that listeners have to remember, and you don't have to worry about creating the sounds of a busy café or whatever. It's also easier to keep track of where people are if they can't go very far.

Plus, when you write a series that takes place in a contained space, every episode becomes a bottle episode. You can focus on the relationships between the characters, and you can mine drama out of "Oh no, I’m stuck here in this very remote location with all these weirdos."

I thought of the hook of the first episode before I really had a plot for the rest of the show. The dynamic between Violet and Kay interested me a lot, how Violet's life is in Kay's hands, but at the same time, Kay is also just a voice. Kay has all the information and she's telling Violet what to do, but she can't make Violet do anything. In a way, they're both powerless. I think we've all had phone conversations where you can keenly feel the limits of only being able to talk and listen, and not see someone's face or occupy the same space.

Only being able to talk and listen is basically podcasts in a nutshell, huh? It sounds like audio storytelling really strikes a chord with you.

For sure. The first podcast I got hooked on was This American Life. For a lonely teenager living in a conservative town during the Bush administration, it felt like these magic transmissions from an alternate dimension. I spent the summer I was 17 mainlining like ten years of back episodes of TAL. I'd lug my laptop to the sink counter so I could keep listening to it while I was brushing my teeth.

Ira Glass talks a lot about how radio can build empathy, because there's something really kind of intimate about hearing someone's voice in your ear. Maybe seeing them would create some distance if they don't look like the people you're used to relating to, but hearing them have emotions and try to figure stuff out, you feel this immediate personal connection. He says it better than that, but you get the picture.

When Serial got big and everyone started listening to podcasts, it felt incredible. Like "Welcome to the party, you guys, I’ve been waiting here for a decade, you finally made it!"

Two episodes in, we've seen a pretty varied crew of individuals in Iris. What's character creation been like here?

I'm a huge sucker for any kind of a "ragtag group of misfits" story. I wanted every character to bring a very different attitude, and I wanted interesting dynamics between all of the characters. It happened pretty organically, I think.

Captain Tripathi was inspired a little by a friend of mine, and by conversations she and I'd had about different styles of leadership. I'm also kind of obsessed by the idea of a badass Hufflepuff, and she fills that role for me, I think. Krejjh the pilot has aspects of my dad, who is completely without fear--a quality I find strange and fascinating. Like, Krejjh is part Thor, part Poe Dameron, part Calamity Jane, and part my dad. A lot of the initial characterization choices came out of stuff that I found funny, on a level I have a hard time explaining. Like, I think it's funny that Brian's there. This chill, friendly guy whose specialties are obscure linguistics and pizza bagels.

There's a variety of races and genders and orientations among the crew, and that was pretty organic, too. Violet Liu was the first character I named, so I knew she was Chinese or Chinese-American from the start. Captain Tripathi was always going to be South Asian; the friend she's based on is, so it just felt natural. The dynamic between Violet and Kay was one of the first pieces I had, so clearly those characters weren't straight. It would've felt disingenuous to tell a story set in the future, in space, where you're not bound by geography, and write the leads as five straight cis white people. Like, what are the odds of that, really?

Speaking of Violet and Kay... when are we going to see them kiss -- I mean, get that drink?

Haha well I'm still writing the last couple of episodes for season one, but I can tell you this question will eventually be addressed in the show.

The next episode of The Strange Case of Starship Iris is due out this Friday (3/10) on Google Play, iTunes, Stitcher, and Spreaker. You can follow the @iriscasefiles tumblr for updates, news, and more.

[musicvoyage]

Ray of Light by Madonna, 1998

For the 19th anniversary of this gem, I decided to dedicate my first album review to the record that changed me as a person and gave me a completely different outlook on the world.

I remember when our Philosophy teacher asked us to bring something that makes you happy. A possession that you look at and gives you immediate joy. I immediately thought of bringing a physical copy of my all-time favorite album Ray of light, simply because this album changed my life for the better.

Not only is Ray of Light Madonna’s biggest comeback album to date but it also inspired many artists such as Adele with her recent hit 25. This Avant-dance perfection is considered to be Madonna’s best work for several reasons. 

We all know Madonna as the versatile and fearless queen who is not afraid to take risks and never fails to surprise us with each era. In Ray of Light, you can hear her opening up to the world. Ray of Light, the song that is also the album title, is about rebirth from a former Material Girl. This song truly reflects what the album is all about; Life.

In the first title track Drowned World/Substitute for Love Madonna does not hold back as she talks about how motherhood has changed her perspective on fame and fortune, she used to yearn for. It is a perfect introduction to the album as you get a preview of what the concept of Ray of Light is all about. The woman who once lived so selfishly has found the missing piece in her life. Lourdes has made her see that all the stardom in the world could never substitute the love she longed for. It is evident that the major influence on this album is Lourdes, as many songs were dedicated to her. To some people, Little Star seems like a repetitive song. To me, however, this is truly a beautiful tribute to her daughter.

Other than motherhood, another door opened up for Madonna which is spirituality. Everybody knows by now that the Vogue-singer has been practicing Kabbalah for two decades now. Here is what Madonna once said about finding her spiritual path in 1997:

The thing about Kabbalah is that it has similarities with, say, Buddhism, the whole idea of cause and effect. For every action there is a reaction, you are the absolute master of your destiny and you have to take responsibility in your life. It’s like you pull in what you pull out, basically. If you want to have goodness in your life, then you have to give it.

 Many songs on Ray of Light were influenced by Kabbalah, such as the underrated EDM-hit Nothing Really Matters, the dance masterpiece that gave me goosebumps the first time I listened to it Sky Fits Heaven and the harmonious and cosmic-like gem Swim. Shanti/Ashtangi was another track inspired by her new-found spirituality, which was written in Sankrit. However, even though the song is melodious and can be applauded for Madonna’s effort in stepping into a completely different lyrical and musical direction, I do not find the song to be memorable. The same can be said for Candy Perfume Girl, the song I did not care about when I heard it for the first time, considering it has no intriguing parts except for the catchy guitar riff. On the other hand, once I’ve listened to it several times I realized what a brilliantly written song it truly is. People who assumed that Madonna completely distanced herself from her raw sexual persona with this album were wrong. Candy Perfume Girl and Skin are songs that give you a certain sexual vibe to it, however, what differentiates those tracks from her earlier sexually explicit songs is that they comprise depth and make you think. Is Madonna’s lyrical intention in Skin about love at first sight and the intense rush you feel once meeting someone new or maybe about the manic confusion someone goes through once they inject drugs into them? This song can be interpreted in many different ways, yet the magical production of William Orbit is very clear. 

William Orbit is a Grammy-winning, Electronica/Trip-hop oriented composer and thanks to Madonna, he has received worldwide acclaim and started working with several famous musical acts like Mel C, No Doubt, Britney Spears etc. His impact on this record is strong and applicable, as it can be heard in tracks like the masterpiece of a ballad Frozen, which included a somehow controversial music video. Because the video seems so dark and obscure, people did not even bother acknowledging the brilliance of this song, but rather linked with a ‘satanic propaganda message that Madonna tried to spread’. Madonna never shied away from sparking controversies and pushing people’s buttons, but to think that people can be that naive is truly upsetting. 

The last few songs after Shanti/Ashtangi are definitely more mellow and in my personal opinion the best part of the album. It sickens me to this day that two of Madonna’s best ballads were left unnoticed; The Power of Good-Bye, a hauntingly beautiful song about being stuck in a toxic relationship or situation which is hard to get out of because your spirit is stuck. However, the path is in your hands as only YOU are the one who is capable of putting yourself out of your misery by willing to free yourself from the things that cause you harm. Just like many of Madonna’s songs, the statement she tries to make in it is truly empowering. Another song with a similar Dilemma is To Have and Not to Hold, it talks about the person you adore, admire and care about not giving you the love and recognition back. Many of us can find this song relatable because many of us were in love with a person who was never able to give the love back. You feel abandonment, but you are also aware that you’ll never be the object of their desire. Madonna closes up the album with Mer Girl, which many people do not find enjoyable to listen to. I believe that this song was not meant to hear but rather felt. When I listened to it for the first time, I could not help get teary eyed. Dedicating this song to the death of her mother, Madonna lets herself be vulnerable. After her mother’s death, she runs away to discover life, going through different journeys and learning about herself as she tries to find herself. This specific song is always somehow being completely ignored by the general public simply because it is not melodious like the other songs. But once you pay attention to its lyrical content, you will truly be amazed at how lyrically gifted Madonna is. 

I personally believe that this is Madonna’s finest work, as it is not only musically impressive but also lyrically. Madonna was never able to be this open to her fans and after listening to this record, I felt like I knew her so much better, that I could relate to this person who has been ridiculed by the media for years, who has been called a ‘Bitch’  ever since she became a prominent figure. This record does not only prove Madonna’s versatility, but also her longevity of being able to put out successful quality content.

I recommend every person with an open and curious mind to listen to this album at least once in their lives. Try not to think of her as the Madonna that every media has made her out to be, but to understand and feel the message that she is trying to spread across the world. Once you do that, you will feel like your perspective on the world and the people around you has changed positively. 

[blockheadbrands]

The High Priestess: How to Connect to and Embody the Elements

Gabriela Herstik of High Times Reports:

Connect to earth, air, fire, water, and spirit using cannabis.

Are you ready to get wet, hot, and steamy this summer? We just experienced the transformative release of the Full Moon in Scorpio, and now we’re inching closer and closer to the peak of the year on the Summer Solstice on June 21st. Spring has sprung, and now we’re officially in Gemini season, the air sign represented by the glyph of the twins. This is a season of creativity, communication, collaboration, union, and expansion, where we get to embrace the freedom of air and its need to transform.   

For this installment of the High Priestess, I was inspired by my current muses: the elements. Earth, air, fire, water, and spirit exist in nearly every spiritual tradition in some form. These elements speak of the physical, natural world around us, as well as of the subtle, spiritual world. The elements teach us of finding grounding, presence, compassion, and passion. Luckily enough, we can connect to all of this wisdom through cannabis.   

For this column, I had the pleasure of interviewing the CannaSexual® and sex and relationship coach Ashley Manta about how plant medicine can lead us deeper into discovering the magick of the elements. Besides actively sharing the ways in which Cannabis can improve our sex lives, Ashley is also a practicing witch and a Taurus, so you know that she talks the talk and walks the walk of all things Venusian and pleasure. In this column, we talk about what each of the elements can teach us, and receive CannaSexual approved mantras as well as simple rituals you can practice connect even further with these energies.  

Earth

We all connect to the element of earth every day. This element is the physical; the flowers we smell, the ground we walk on, the cannabis we’re smoking. Not only is earth all about Mother Nature herself, but this element also speaks to all of the things that keep us safe, grounded and protected. The element of earth represents the things we have in our lives as well; the objects we keep, our home, our relationships (since these too exist in the physical vessel of a human being). And in our case specifically, the element of Earth is represented by cannabis herself. The element of earth IS cannabis, the Green Ganja Goddess, Gaia, Mother Nature, or whatever other name you call her.

Ashley, who moonlights as a “botanical ambassador”, shares that for her, connecting with the element of earth means being grateful and physically honoring the cannabis plant. 

“Even before I start to put the cannabis into the bowl or bong or whatever I’m smoking out of, I just hold the flower in my hands and inhale and I regard it and honor it,” she explains. “Not only the grower that brought it to cultivation but the people who are still sitting in jail who have had this plant used against them because we live in this systematic culture of racism and oppression, especially against black and brown people, so [earth is] being aware and really honoring that.”

Earth is safety and when we tend to the roots, we tend to the flowers. Connecting to the element of earth through cannabis means returning to our bodies and cross-pollinating—doing what we can in the physical to fight these systems of injustice; we help ourselves and then help others. 

How to Connect With The Earth: Ground

Ashley and I both have the same grounding visualization, one that is simple and that you can use whenever you want to connect to the earth.

To begin, take a moment to breathe into your body. Imagine roots moving from the base of your spine, deep into the earth. These vines draw up golden energy to your sacral chakra, where your pelvis is, pulling this nourishing light into this space, “releasing all the shame, all the toxic bullshit into it. A beautiful symbiotic relationship that really helps us so much” Ashley explains.

Mantra for Earth:

I follow the path of cross pollination; as I grow and flourish, I help other people grow and flourish.

Air

If Earth is the first thing we think of because it is the cannabis plant herself, then air and smoke are surely the second. Air is the element of presence, of expansion, freedom, and expression. It is the reign of the mind, of the intellect. Air is also the breath, our connection to our bodies, our personal purification system. Air reminds us to be our fullest self. 

“Air helps me remember to take up space, that it’s okay and good and healthy. I don’t have to be small and unobtrusive,” Ashley shares. “Cannabis helps me get out of my head, it helps me quite those voices that have been telling me my whole life that  ‘you’re too much, you’re being too ridiculous, you’re being too sexual.’” 

As we take the time to prepare ourselves to take a hit from our bong, bowl, joint or whatever else, we can work with the element of air to be embodied in the moment. As we exhale and release what’s keeping us small, we make way to fully inhale all the present. Our spirits follow the path of our bodies taking up as much space as possible. Air can also mean we’re intensely aware as we smoke. Instead of heaving the television on and doing this passively, maybe you really take the time to honor each step of the process, of smoking, of feeling your air fill with lungs. 

How to Connect With Air: Breathwork

We can return to our breath whenever we need to return to the present moment. And we can connect to this element when we’re getting stoned with our favorite plant by smoking with some intention. 

For this exercise you’re going to be breathing consciously. For Ashley, this means that the prep work begins before she starts smoking, for her it’s all about “remembering to empty out my lungs fully, contract my belly, and then inhale fully from the diaphragm [as I smoke].” Filling your lungs up with air in this way will also get you higher which is a plus. You may also wish to experiment with different breathing techniques like the four-fold breath, where you inhale, hold, exhale and hold before beginning again. 

Mantra for Air:

I am fully expressed; I don’t have to hide or present a more palatable version of who I am. I am safe to be my fullest self.

Water

For many of us, one of the perks of being high is being in “the flow.” That ability to let go and be completely chill. Water is the realm of the subconscious, of the emotions, of the spiritual, of the subtle. This is soul-level stuff, the feeling of being cared for, held, and nurtured. And Ashley reminds us that water, like the ocean herself, is incredibly powerful and not to be messed with. While air gives us the freedom to take up space and spread as beautifully as smoke does, water gives us the ability to feel the depth of our emotions.  Water shares with us the gift of being multidimensional humans, with light, shadows, brilliance and darkness, which as Ashley puts so beautifully “is really what makes us so interesting and dynamic as humans.”

Connecting with the element of water can be as simple as putting water in your bong or as intentional as spending time by a body of water like a lake or ocean. It can be taking time to take to a partner before you smoke together, which is what Ashley and her partner call “emotional intimacy as foreplay.” Having deep and vulnerable conversations as you smoke can be a really personal way to relate to someone else through the element of water, which is associated with the heart and love, and can also lead to some fiery and steamy moments. Water wants us to connect, to feel, to emote, to create. Cannabis naturally guides us into this realm of conscious creativity and vulnerability, and we can embrace the element of water to understand this more deeply.   

How to Connect with Water: Smoke by the Ocean

Ashley’s happy place is smoking cannabis by the ocean, especially at sunset, and this is always a recommendation, but smoking near a body of water or in a bathtub is good enough. If you like smoking out of a bong, you may wish to leave some water under the New or Full Moon for 4-6 waters to keep and use as blessed bong water. The Moon is associated with the subtle and emotional body, the divine feminine and the heart.  Moon water can be used to cleanse, purify and embed something with the Moon’s energy.

Mantra for Water:

I release all the shit that I hold on to that’s too much for me. I release what no longer serves me and I give it to the ocean.

Fire

Fire is steamy, it’s passionate, it’s lustful and primal. Fire is power and purpose. It’s also alchemy, and the reason we even get high. “When you light the plant matter, specifically cannabis, the spark, the fire is what turns THCA to Delta9 THC, which is what causes the intoxicating or high effect,” Ashley shares. “In its non-heated form in the flower, it’s THCA; which is why if you were to eat cannabis, you wouldn’t get high.” The fire itself it turns out, is what transmutes the flower and gives us the euphoric feeling of being high.  Fire represents that which lights us up. It’s the actions we take to make our dreams a reality. It’s our sexuality, our desires, what turns us on. Fire is that which allows us to experience altered states, that which allows us to transcend. Through fire we return to the core, the match, the brightest possible expression of our fullest power. Fire is what gets us to places we’ve always dreamed of. It’s the energy of the big bang, of orgasms, of anger channeled into passion. Fire is what burns away what no longer serves us while fortifying what does. 

How to Connect with Fire: Sex Magick

For Ashley, cannabis is one of the biggest cornerstones of how she connects to fire and sexuality, how she deepens her awareness and access to her energetic power. She does this through sex magick, which I’ve written about before for this column!

First she sets the scene energetically and physically, dimming lights and putting on a playlist that makes her feel powerful. Then she sets an intention for her ritual before she takes a hit from her bong (since it unites all the elements at once.) “I’ll pack my bowl, and set my intention and think about what I want this experience to be like for me. I’ll call any guides, angels, archetypes, ascended masters, bring in the dream team and as something sexy comes on [the playlist] I’ll smoke naked in front of the mirror.”

To experiment with this, stand in front of the mirror and move your body, seducing yourself. Make eye contact with yourself (this is crucial) and then when you’re ready take yourself to bed. Here, you’ll masturbate and as you climax, you’ll send this energy to the intention you set before you began smoking.

Mantra for Fire:

I seduce myself. I leave room for my intention or something better. 

Spirit

Spirit is the connection through it all. It’s the intention we set, the fire we use to set the spark, the air we inhale into our lungs, and the emotional shift we experience as the high sets in. Spirit is our ability to think, feel, grow, receive and love. It’s the thread connecting earth, air, fire, and water. In our case, you could think of spirit as being high, as the feeling of being in an altered state. This is when we receive downloads, insight, healing. Spirit is the plant medicine in action. 

This element is less tangible than the others because it’s the negative space and dark matter that connects everything else. We can’t see it but we can experience it. Connect with each element as you smoke and then feel the effects of the spell you’ve just performed. What does your favorite sort of high feel like? What does it change about the way you feel—about yourself, life, the universe, connection, god whatever it is? 

Personally, I feel a sense of gratitude and understanding when I’m stoned. Like, the world just reveals herself to me and I don’t have to try so hard to understand. Spirit means balance means finding grounding as I grow, tapping into my emotions even in my fullest moments of passion. Spirit is the feeling of being high on a spring day under the sun. It’s magick, and it’s something that you experience to understand.

How to Connect to Spirit: Work with a Tarot or Oracle Deck

Ashley and I both share an affinity for pulling a card before any sort of smoking ritual. You may choose to pull something from the 78-cards of the classic tarot deck, or an oracle deck. Take a moment to breathe, get clear with your intention before you shuffle and then pull a card. Write down any insight or messages you have and repeat the following mantra to help you tap into the cards wisdom 

Mantra for Spirit:

I create space for ancestors, guides, benevolent beings, and the universe to connect with me through intuitive wisdom. 

No matter how you connect to cannabis, or earth, air, fire, water or spirit, I hope that you have the time to honor whatever feels delicious to you. As always, enjoy the high and tune in the week after next for another installment of the High Priestess. And don’t forget to check out my lovely and sexy guest, the CannaSexual and her work. 

And this month, we’re continuing the support of National Bail Out, which seeks to help incarcerated moms get back to their families. You can support them by reading about their mission here and donating here.

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https://hightimes.com/culture/high-priestess-how-connect-embody-elements/