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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Note

Okay but vamp!harry x reader where the reader goes for a late night walk alone because she’s feeling anxious (Harry tries to insist on coming with but she says no) but soon he can sense somethings wrong and goes to look for her and finds her in a dangerous situation! I need protective vampire Harry 🥺

Disclaimer: Reader with ADHD, Vampire!H x fem!reader, cock warming.

Harry's been doing humanly things. Moreso trying for his little human whom he doesn't want to dissapoint when she's making ećlairs or pop tarts for him and all he knows is to eat them despite of being a helping hand. His fingers are magical —--- they relax her in the most livid way while he's feeding from her. Honestly, it's all she wants. Her making sweets for him and him pleasuring her in the most bizarre way.

But. Sometimes she get's emotionally exhausted that the physical activities looks like breaking a mountain for her and all she does is snuggle under the snoozy layers of her childhood blankets cuddling her cat to calm her down.

Now her tranquility is Harry.

It's one of those days. She's been feeling like a failure. An utter dimwit for not getting what's happening in her sociology class, why her neighbours are always grumpy with her and why she isn't able to study anything. It's depressing her.

Harry never left her side. She's like a honey gooed all over him not even letting him bring the pizzas he ordered for them, "Don't!" She squeaks in a weak voice catching his wrists and he sits back cupping the nape of her neck looking straight in her eyes to assure her with his whole existence, "'ey baby . . my sweet girl 'm not goin' anywhere. Delivery boy's been waiting outside -- just a mo', yeah?" He sponges a gentle kiss at her temple stroking her cheek to calm her down.

They've rented a VR receiver and alot of silver movies watching them while eating pizza. She giggles and Harry smiles goofily when he had to hit the receiver twice to make it work, "c'mon you should know how all of this work old man." He strides towards her pulling her up with armpits into his embrace and tickling hard.

"Old man huh!? Ol' ma —" He pretends to eat her whole and she squeals between her laughs, "'m sorry you're my man!" Huffs smugly giving her a breather and pecks her not twice but thrice. If he could kiss her all day. He would. She's his human. It surprises him sometimes when he's alone with his thoughts. He loves her to fucking bits and pieces.

When she's like this everyone and everything feels outta her reach. As if they're miles away from her and she's standing in barren cold. In the amidst of sappy movie she shrinks closer to him stuffing her face into his ribs wounding her leg around his abdomen and he makes her feel warm wrapping his arms around her to push her up on his thigh. Snapping his gaze down at her when the lil sniffs of her reached his ears, "What's wrong kitten . . . hurts to see ya like this baby. Love you so much." He never fails to promise that he loves her to core.

"'M jus . . . thinking tha –-- that when I'll die you'll be still here 'n . . . 'n y'would get so lonely." She hiccups without a break, "Dunno. Can't stop crying 'm sorry." She gives out an ugly sob into his chest. It's breaking his already feeble heart. God he could scream the affection to the moon he have for this girl. In such a tragic moment all she is thinking is about him.

He cups squishes both her cheeks with his calloused palms telling her to breath with slow gestures then when she's way better speaks in his softest voice, "My baby listen to me hmm? We're never thinking of future don't wan'ye to wreck ye'r beautiful brain for stupid deaths --- secondly too bad miss Y/N 'm gonna cling to ye like leech of your nightmares." He wipes her tears away ever so caringly and gives her eskimo kisses while she giggles snorting at the end when Harry brought his big goldfish orbs in the middle to make her laugh.

"'M glad to have you." She whispers smudging her wet lips softly against his's into a heart melting blood warming kiss and Harry shushes her when she whines clutching the hem of his sweater, "bite me? She asks politely rather than being batty as for she was being within past days rilling him upto extreme to get her neck and skin sprinkled with hickeys that turns into bites.

"Don't wanna hurt ye', lovie." He pushes her hair away peering down at her with pleading worried eyes, "you wouldn't. promise." He nods flushing her against his chest positioning her head into the crook of his neck. Making her hug him like a koala bear.

Rubs her back. Pats her hair. Sways her along him rather than the seductive warnings he used to give her. He's afraid. She's too fragile at the moment. He'd never forgive himself if something will happen to her, "'m gonna bite. Stop me if ye' don't want it o' hurts." He runs his palms at her sides making her all squirmy.

He pushes her fangs ever so gently to her sweet spot. If she's made of glass making her moan and tight her grip around him warming up his cock in his trousers. It's not always about you dumber. He scolds himself. Suckling lightly and pulling back in a pinch of moment. It's the first time he has almost pretended to drink from her. She's all sleepy in his hold. He carries her to bed and when tries to untangle himself so he could turn the telly off she whines not letting him.

Despite of these much blankets she's still feeling cold. From inside. It feels empty and she isn't liking it at all. Writhes and squirms causing Harry to ask, "ye okay there lovie'?" When she shakes her head with glassy eyes and a pout he understands.

"Cold." Is all she had to say and he's guessing the next, "in ye'r tummy?" When she bobs her head confirming he sighs softly pulling the elastic of his trousers down to free his dick getting rid of the item woving his calves with her, thighs between thighs and places a firm hand on her back moving his thumb into circles non-stop.

"Oh me lil dovlin' c'mere . . want me cock to warm ye up baby? 'S okay s' okay darlin'." He murmurs against her lips tugging at his foreskin hissing when the head of his thick cock gets pushed between their bellys due to approximty. Precome oozes from his strokes and he takes her panties off swiping his crown over her hole to lubricate her. Wounds his arm around the nape of her neck to lap at her mouth swallowing her whines and cries while sliding inside her compact walls twisting his stomach awfully, "shhh. shhh baby love. I got ya. Gonna take care of ye ---- try to sleep. I'll be waiting fo' ye in the morning." Once, situating himself deep and snug inside her. He keeps on embracing her like a little baby.

Next morning though she woke up happy. Harry made her brekkie. Special smiley pancakes with heart shaped eyes from the little strawberry toppings. He really took advantage of his time while she was snoring her ass off. A peach smoothie and cashewnuts. Fed Meowsie. Gave her his morning lovin'. They had the meal together.

He helped her learn some of her course. Then in afternoon made lunch together egg fried rice and stirred vegetables Y/N went to give some of it to their neighbours. Lady Nat asked her if she's okay cause she has stopped stomping in her flat and it made her feel good, weirdly.

Maybe it's seasonal sadness that she couldn't get out of it. Harry's in the kitchen cleaning up shelves when he hears the rustle of carpet. He peeks from the wall to find her pooling into a big hoodie and slipping into her shoes. He frowns throwing the rag away to walk towards her immediately, "where ye' goin' lovie? Ye' okay what happened?" He runs his hands over her shoulders to her hair making her meet his eyes.

She nods squeezing his wrists, "don't worry just wanna . . . take a walk — clear my head." Hearing this he quickly moves to wear his jacket.

"'M goin' with you." He declares and she knows if that'll happen she wouldn't be able to, "No. Alone." She fumbles with the strings of her hoodie. He sighs not fond of the idea brows knighting together thumbing at her jaw with concern screaming in his eyes.

"Can I mark you then?" He asks knowing what hides in the shadows of outside; creatures evil than his entire existence. He doesn't want to make her feel like she owes him explanations for her each and every movement but gosh does it scare him to his bones. She's the only person who could make him weak into knees and a mesh of puddle at the thought of even the thorn pricking her, "okie." She cranes her neck and it still amuses him she's exactly how she was when he first met her. That gentle rose under the moon meant for Harry to care and water with love.

After adorning her with a crimson mark and little peck he tugs her closer hooking his nose to her hair taking a good sniff of her cocoa scent, "keep your phone in ye' hand and don't walk through the cherry street." There's nothing there but stray dogs that she's afraid of. It's better he advises her.

"Ai. Ai captain!" She salutes him stomping her feet and he chuckles kissing her cheek wet-ly, "Go before I change me mind."

He wanted it not to creep it to his mind but it's not helping AT ALL. He's been restless and it's been fifteen minutes since she has left. He's sitting sunk into sofa with Meowsie snuggled under his chin while he shakes his knees, cracks his knuckles, combs his hair and groans into his palms. In short throwing tantrum like a toddler missing her already and constantly worrying about her. Something doesn't feel right at all. That gut wrenching horror of losing her biting him alive.

He mutters a fuck it going to look for her and bring her back home. He was right. He has always been. Good at instincts. For fuck's sake. He's a vampire!

Y/N was walking along the path which's the lead way to a park when a dark vibe gloomed over her head. The next she knows is she's being pinned to a wall with demonic eyes snatching at her soul: it takes her breath away outta horror.

"No wonder why Harry kisses the earth you walk on." He chuckles darkly accent an old Scottish and she gulps eyes stinging with tears, "I would to . . if I get to drink such sweet ripe blood." Her eyes widens when his fangs pokes out from his gums glistening under the lamp light.

She tries to kick him in balls to get rid of his painful grip when an angry growl echoes towards them loudly and the person who had her trapped wooshes from her sight in a bolt to ground making her shriek.

"She's not a fuckin' feeder stay the fuck away from her!!" Harry grits spitting venom. Choking the person under him, "tol' ya she's my girl and I'll shred everyone alive if they'll even breath in her direction." She has never seen him this furious. Tone harsh and snappy she never heard coming from him it makes her cry.

He had warned his fellows when the news of him spread that he has bonded to human. But well they've thick skulls.

The man under him just smirks pushing him away and coughing into his elbow standing up. "Whatever thought sharing is caring, Styles." Harry glares him resentfully. Fisting a punch at his side but stables himself when a dainty hand wraps around his fingers clutching tight.

He turns ducking down to her level cupping her cheeks and tries to examine her for any kind of injury, "ye' okay? Did he hurt you? Tell me and — " she rubs her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie shaking her head vigorously.

"No. 'M fine sorry should've listened to you." He puffs out a breath of guilt letting his forehead fall against her's, "don't be sorry -- it's none of ye'r fault baby."

"Glad you're safe." He whispers hugging her with the sway of bodies, "I love you." She tells him honestly tip-toeing to kiss him and it unfortunately reaches his silky jaw only.

"And all the things you do for me." He grins down at her. He lives on praises. The cheeky bastard.

"How about eatin' ice-cream while taking swings in the park?" He intertwines their hands warmly kissing her knuckles and she quips excitedly, "sounds great!"

AN: idk why read more button isn't working sorry for the bug.

#harry styles smut #anon request #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurb #harry angst #dom harry #harry styles vampire smut #vamp!h #vampire harry

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novantinuum · 3 years

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1.6K~

Summary: The question— incomplete, and yet bursting with long-held curiosity— emerges from thin air while he’s about to tuck Steven into bed in the back of the van one night.

In retrospect, no parenting book could’ve ever prepared him for this one.

A Greg and Steven focused fic, set when Steven is freshly four. This is one of those I had on the poll a month or so back, ahah! Finally finished it. Apologies for the wait. The good news is that my list is now whittled down to three non-Crack the Paragon WIPS! Woo! That’s rather exciting.

There’s some brief meta rambles on the AO3 version. If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

“Where’s yours, Daddy?”

The question— incomplete, and yet bursting with long-held curiosity— emerges from thin air while he’s about to tuck Steven into bed in the back of the van one night.

In retrospect, no parenting book could’ve ever prepared him for this one.

“My...?” Smiling encouragingly, he lets the word dangle unfinished in the air for a moment, and gestures to try and prompt the little tyke to continue. “My what, kiddo? My... pajamas?” he says, pointing towards each item his kid bears in succession. “My... stuffed tiger? My very own... tickle monster?!”

In the spirit of good-hearted mischief, Greg tousles his boy’s dark, flyaway curls. When he then moves his hands to tickle his sides, Steven breaks into delighted peals of laughter, squirming nonstop.

“Noooooo,” he giggles breathlessly, batting his small pudgy hands at him to stop the affectionate onslaught. “No tickles, your gem! Like mine! You ‘aven’t never showed it.”

In an instant, the small universe encapsulated inside their van freezes, and he goes momentarily slack-jawed as he struggles to process the words that just came out of his son’s mouth.

“My- w-where’s my gem?”

He lets out a low chuckle at the absurd thought— imagine that, him, having a gem of his own! Where on Earth did his kid acquire this notion? And then... his memory can’t help but drift back to a few hours earlier, when Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl spent a mission-free day with Steven on the beach, surrounded by all manners of summer tourists. Humans coexisting amongst Gems, most entirely nonplussed by their otherworldly appearances. Steven was eagerly padding across the shore in his brand new swim trunks— the pair he received for his birthday just a week ago— the quartz gem at his navel on proud display. Midway through the afternoon, though, the kiddo seemed to become strangely preoccupied by all the human beachgoers. He’d glance at people’s faces, their sternums, their exposed navels, and then scowl in confusion. At one point he excitedly ran up to a dark skinned young woman with hair like Garnet’s to give her a high-five, and returned puzzled, his lips pressed in a thin line. At the time, Greg didn’t understand what all of his bewildered, curious gawking was about, and quietly instructed him not to bother other people. But now, given this latest comment, a theory builds in his mind... oh stars, was he looking for their gems?

Did he somehow assume both from his own and from his frequency of interaction with Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl that everyone had one hidden somewhere?

Swallowing, he deliberately makes it a point to mask his nervousness about this topic in front of his impressionable four-year-old child as best he can. Oh, boy. They haven’t had this sort of conversation yet. He always kinda feared it was coming, coursing towards him like a tidal wave faster and faster with each passing moment, but never in a million years did he imagine this moment would be tonight. And now, his tongue dry as a stone in his mouth, he finds himself at a complete loss for words. As best he knows, there’s no one else even remotely like Steven in the entire universe. How does one even convey this concept to their child in terms they’d understand?

Because even if he— ignoring the rose quartz gemstone embedded flush with his skin where a typical kid’s belly button would be— looks the part, Steven isn’t human. That much is obvious. That’s simply a fact. Humans don’t glow as babies. They don’t grow so ramrod still while sleeping that they appear like they’re not breathing at all. They can’t casually lift double their body weight at the tender age of four. Not to mention, in all his years of life thus far, he’s never gotten sick. Never gotten a scrape or cut that didn’t heal up completely in less than an hour. Not once. There’s no way that’s by mere coincidence, Greg muses, there’s gotta be another reason. He’s gotta have some sort of mega-boosted immune system or something, or magically healing cells. No branch of human science can successfully justify the alien nuances of his son’s existence. He just... is. He’s a walking miracle, the light of his life.

Steven’s never been a normal child, that’s for sure.

But how is a father supposed to lovingly and sensitively explain this to innocent ears?

“I, erm- I don’t have one of those, bud,” he says slow, still desperately sorting through his thoughts to figure out what else to say about this.

The kid stubbornly wriggles free from his arms, lifting up the bottom hem of his baggy pajama shirt to showcase the glittering pink gemstone resting at the center of his belly. “But I got one, an’ Amethyst an’ Pearl got one, an’ Garnet, she- guess what,” he says in an attempt at a whisper, wide eyed as if he’s about to impart some sacred knowledge. “She even got two gems!”

“That’s right, she does have two gems!” he nods, only barely holding back his chuckle at the hilarious solemnity of his kid’s proclamation. “But Steven, not everyone has ‘em like you and them. It’s something unique to the four of you. Y’see, they are Gems, just like me and everyone else in town are humans. It’s, um—“ his speech falters as he struggles to find words someone so young could possibly begin to understand— “it’s sorta just who they are.”

The corners of Steven’s mouth turn downwards in an exaggerated pout, and it’s immediately obvious that this blind, clumsy attempt at an explanation didn’t satisfy him one bit. Greg leans back against the inner siding of the van, gently tugging at a strand of his hair as he scours his mind for any potential solutions to this parenting quandary.

Think, think, think... How does one connect this topic to things such a young kid might understand?

“Listen, uh...” he begins again, marked hesitation tinting his voice. “Pearl’s been teaching you about bugs lately, right?”

However, if Steven— bless his heart— happened to notice his heightened nervousness, he sure doesn’t let it show on his face, instead enthusiastically jumping to answer his question.

“Uh-huh!” he nods, and then proceeds to happily babble about what he’s learned, flapping his hands in front of him as he does so. “She tells me all about bumble bees an’ stick bugs, an’ these...” His brow creases as he pauses, combing his memory for the right words. “...fuzzy worms? But they aren’t worms, ‘cause they sleep for really super long and then, then they get wings and fly away!”

He can’t help but smile at his son’s animation about this subject. He soaks up knowledge like a sponge, that’s for sure. Between Pearl and him, they’ve been trying to introduce him to some of the basics lately, stuff kids his age should know. Like reading, and writing, and counting, and music, and basic science. Pearl does the math and science, (those classes were never his wheelhouse in school), and he takes care of everything else. Given, erm... given their kinda strained history, they don’t exactly collaborate on lesson plans, but so far the arrangement seems to be working out okay. Steven’s having fun, at least, which is all that matters in the end.

“Oooh, caterpillars and butterflies, huh?” he says, reaching for the thick blanket folded up against the side wall of the van. “Well, y’wanna learn a cool new thing?”

His son bobs his head, his eyes glittering.

“All those bugs you named?” he begins, unfolding the blanket for the two of them as he goes. “They’re each types of completely different creatures, or, different species, we call ‘em. And humans and Gems, they’re types of species too. And every species has something that makes them unique, different from everything else. You know how all those bugs have special things the others don’t have, like the bumble bees and their stripes, and those caterpillars’ fuzz?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, that’s what it’s like for humans and Gems, too! Garnet and Amethyst and Pearl and you, you all have gemstones, just like yours right here,” he says, tapping a gentle finger over the rose quartz embedded at his midsection. Steven lets out a small giggle at the contact. “That’s your special thing as Gems, something humans don’t have.”

“What’ve humans have?” he asks in curiosity, tilting his head.

Greg purses his lips, his fingers subconsciously massaging the blanket’s rough, time-worn surface as he considers the elements that— from personal experience— he’d consider essential to human life. “Hmm. Well, let’s see... I guess... humans eat, and sleep, and grow from babies all the way until they’re adults. Gems don’t age. They don’t really... do any of that.”

“But I can do that!” he whines, brows creasing.

“Hm?”

“I thought you jus’ said I’m a Gem?”

Greg’s breath stills upon the deliverance of this pointed question, spoken with such youthful innocence, and yet wholly capable of penetrating through every layer of his ill-formed logic. He swallows hard. Once again, he is not prepared. He likely never could be.

His son... oh, his beloved Steven. Without meaning to, he keeps ignoring the inherent humanity that sets this boy apart from the rest of the Gems. He’s similar to them in many respects, yes, but he’s also not. He’s both, but...

He’s also neither.

He’s unique from everyone, his own thing altogether. Something entirely new.

Quite honestly, the best word he can grasp at to describe him is hybrid.

And while at this present moment he has no idea if he’s doing his son a disservice, othering him from the rest of humanity at such a tender age, he figures that he at least deserves to know the truth.

“You’re kinda- uh, both, at once, actually,” he clarifies, these very words acting as a beacon to clarify a wide range of once deep-seeded assumptions in his mind. “Gem and human. You’ve got special things from both sides, how funky is that?”

“Huh.” Steven mulls this new information over, and then flashes a toothy grin. “That's cool!”

#su #steven universe #greg universe #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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pynches · 3 years

Text

through the years we will be together (if the fates allow)

a/n this is a gift for @mletart for @pynchpromptweek Secret Santa! I hope you like it! summary: The Lynch brothers do Christmas caroling together to uphold the brotherly bond after their parents passed away. It so happens to be that Adam lives at the church they frequent at. The Myth of the Brothers Lynch become a reality when Adam finally meets the middle one.

word count: 2571

ao3 Adam had never seen them, he had tried many times to catch as much as a glimpse but his job at Boyd’s lined up with the mass times and he was always a little too late. Once, he thought he saw the edge of a BMW turn around the corner but he had waved that off. “Good boys” as the attendees had said, didn’t drive cars that were shark-nosed, all edges and brute force.

“They sing like angels,” one old lady told Adam. She attended church often, burning a candle sometimes. Adam wondered who she had lost, if she was the only one left standing. He almost wanted to ask if the angel metaphor was blasphemy but he held it in at the last moment and politely listened instead, the key to his apartment still in hand. “Especially the middle one.”

“Ronan,” Adam said helpfully, nodding his head in recognition. He had been so mystified by the brothers that he had absorbed every bit of information about them like a sponge, trying to piece everything together and create clear images of them.

He never quite succeeded.

“You must come to mass,” the lady said, her watery eyes looking up at Adam hopefully and Adam had politely declined though it cost him great hardship to do so.

“I’m not religious,” Adam said apologetically and stayed to listen to the lady’s story about the grandson she never really saw because he went to study abroad before Adam finally went up the stairs and let himself into his apartment.

The Brother’s Lynch, now a tangible subject in his mind, took residency in his thoughts for the remainder of the day, the week, until it was Sunday again and Adam was home for once.

Boyd had called Adam to him a few days before, telling him that he had to take some vacation days or he would breach the contract he had signed the year before. It so happened that one of those vacation days was that Sunday, since it wouldn’t be too busy at the shop that day anyway.

And thus, Adam was at the window on Sunday, peering through the slightly cracked glass to try and catch the eye of the brothers.

He watched as the shark-nosed BMW appeared again, followed by a much more boring car, parking next to the BMW. The first guy that got out was one that looked like he was the poster child for bad behaviour. Shaved head, tattoos that curled up from his shoulders and around his neck, peeking just above the black suit he was wearing, the tie artfully undone.

Next came another guy out of the more boring car, a displeased frown already set in his eyebrows. He wore a gray suit, everything perfectly in place. Adam wondered if the perfection was compensating for something.

Then, the last guy, which Adam expected was Ronan, the one with the nice voice, the “very kind boy” as one of the old ladies had whispered to him. Golden curls, a sweet smile on his face, an excited jump in his step as he entered the church.

Adam didn’t go down but he snuck out of his apartment and sat on the stairs, hoping to catch one of their voices. He wanted to learn the magic behind the sound, understand why everyone, including him, had been mesmerised by the brothers.

He didn’t hear a single one stand out, all of them combining too much to notice the ‘angelic’ ones the woman had told him about. Adam wished he still had his other ear in use, thinking that perhaps he would be blessed with the heavenly voices of the brothers if his father hadn’t beaten the hearing out of it.

Disappointedly, he stood again and moved upstairs to his little apartment, sitting down to study as he had done a hundred nights before and would continue to do so until the very end.

It wasn’t a half-hour later when he heard a single voice, moving below in the heart of the church, the voice echoing off the wall. Adam quietly tiptoed down and peeked around the corner. He was too entranced by the voice at first to notice the person singing. The musical notes and the quiet timber of it made Adam wonder if the church was built for the sound instead of God. But then he saw the figure and his heart momentarily stopped.

Shaved head, eyes sunken into his head, was he sleeping enough? Perhaps he was an insomniac as Adam was as well, by choice or not was the question. The suit jacket had been shrugged off and laid over one of the benches. His dress shirt had been rolled up his arms, exposing the boy’s pale forearms, scarred and vulnerable looking. Adam could distinctively see two hooks etched into the sides of his neck, the black ink a stark contrast against the whiteness of his skin.

This must be the youngest one Adam thought. He wanted to go up, introduce himself but he was too scared to. The boy was not only taller than him but significantly stronger too. Adam didn’t exactly feel fear but he didn’t want to take any chances either.

He barely noticed the singing had stopped before the boy was in front of him and Adam’s heart stilled in his chest. “Who the fuck are you?” Adam was asked who immediately went into defensive mode.

“I live here,” Adam said with an annoyed pull of his lips. He wondered why the ladies had said they were ‘good boys’. This one seemed anything but.

The boy’s mouth opened and closed, the spell on his hardened eyes momentarily broken and he looked so much younger immediately. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

Adam swallowed and nodded before his everlasting need for approval reared its ugly head. “Adam Parrish,” he said, knowing how ridiculous his name sounded in a church of all things. The boy, Matthew, Adam presumed, seemed to realise as well and smirked a little. Adam wished he didn’t find it as attractive as he did.

“Ronan Lynch,” the boy replied and…

Oh.

“You’re not Matthew?” Adam asked and he immediately realised how stupid he sounded. He also realised his hand was still in Ronan’s, pleasantly warm under his soft skin.

“That would be my baby brother,” Ronan answered and cocked his head. Adam didn’t dare to tell him that it made him look like a confused puppy. “Why would you think I was Matthew?”

And here Adam was, standing in front of the most dangerous-looking boy with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard, tongue-tied and all. “The ladies who come here told me Ronan was the nicest of the brothers and well…”

“Matthew looks like a golden retriever personified,” Ronan helpfully added. “We’re all aware.”

Adam bit his lip and finally released Ronan’s hand. It took him everything to not immediately start running. He would have if he didn’t also want to tell Ronan how nice his voice was and, more importantly, leave a good impression for whatever reason that might be.

“Your voice…” Adam started and cleared his throat. “It’s really nice.”

He walked away after that, hating himself for coming up with ‘nice’ of all things. As if that wasn’t the lamest thing he could have said to the hottest person he had ever met in his short and sheltered life. You didn’t often find people like him in little Henrietta, Virginia and Adam blew it completely.

Adam could hear the soft laughter of Ronan echo against the walls again, following him up into his room. It was a quiet and surprising thing, fleeting like the birds’ wings on Ronan’s neck.

Adam dreamt about Ronan that night. Perhaps he truly wasn’t real but just a myth his mind had helpfully added a face to. But it couldn’t be, Ronan’s hand had felt so real in his own, warm and soft, the comforting touch of a mystical stranger.

Adam looked out the next day but Ronan was gone. It wasn’t a surprise, he didn’t think people that drove such cars actually slept in churches but he still felt a deep sense of disappointment that nobody was waiting for him downstairs, singing a beautiful song in greeting.

Adam got back to work the next Sunday and though he rushed back to catch a glimpse of the brothers, or, well, Ronan, it was to no avail. They were gone, carrying their voices with them.

The days flew by, the weather got worse. Adam was cold more often than not and in those freezing days where he could only pace up and down his small apartment to gain some warmth, he remembered the touch of Ronan’s hands, their palms pressed together, Ronan’s finger lightly touching his racing pulse.

“They have a habit of Christmas caroling,” one of the ladies, Dorothy, apparently, had told him with a wink as if she knew Adam had been looking out for them. “They do it every year, it keeps the brotherly bond alive.”

Adam thought Christmas caroling only happened in cheesy Christmas movies but he had thanked her and kept Dorothy’s words to heart. He made sure to finish all of his homework before sitting down on his bed on Christmas eve, eyeing the door with nervous anticipation. He belatedly thought of the possibility they would only carol at the door of the church, not of his apartment. Still, he held the hope that Ronan would remember their conversation and attempt to sing for him.

Though Adam had hope, he didn’t actually expect a knock on his door. He turned the doorknob with a shaky hand, his stomach fluttering with nerves.

Before him stood three brothers.

Declan, his expression stoic, his suit black this time with a tie that looked as if it was made by someone artistic, snowflakes and Christmas trees decorating the red and green background. The tie greatly contrasted what Adam had thought was his personality. Maybe he wasn’t as boring as he portrayed himself to be.

Matthew, all golden curls and happy smiles as he sang, his head bobbing a little with every note, his eyes squinted to feel the music more. He was as he seemed, cheerfulness evident in every word he sang.

And then there was Ronan. He was dressed in all black, not quite right for Christmas eve but it fit him, Adam could tell even though he didn’t truly know him. The scar on his lip pulled a little when he sang, the sole focus point of Adam’s sight until he suddenly remembered he had been staring at Ronan’s lips with fascination and looked up again. His eyes met Ronan’s pale blue ones. It reminded him of the ice he always wished he could skate on but never could afford.

Ronan smiled while he sang, he could tell from the crinkles around his eyes. Adam couldn’t help but smile back and applaud a little when they were done.

“You deserve every praise you get,” Adam told the brothers. Declan nodded in appreciation and squeezed Ronan’s shoulder.

“He really is nice,” he said, smirking a little as Ronan’s cheeks turned red, his expression affronted that his brother dared to expose him like that. “Ronan forced us to sing for you.”

This time it was Adam’s time to blush, unable to meet Ronan’s eyes so they fell on Matthew instead who looked ecstatic. “I think you’ll make a lovely brother in law.”

“Matthew!” Ronan yelled and Matthew laughed as he dragged Declan down to ‘give them some privacy’.

Adam finally looked up to Ronan again and tugged a little on the sleeve of his suit jacket so he met his eyes again. “I’m glad you came here.”

“You are?” Ronan asked, sounding as if he expected Adam to slam his door in his face. Adam could sense the hope in Ronan’s eyes and, hell, it was Christmas Eve . This was the night for miracles and taking chances, for spending time with loved ones that Adam didn’t have but if he played it right, he could have exactly that next Christmas.

Adam thus nodded and ran inside to get a pen, writing his phone number on the palm of Ronan’s hand, the light blue almost the colour of the veins that ran underneath his skin. “I want to get to know you better, maybe you become less of a myth in my head.”

Ronan’s laugh sounded like bells and Adam couldn’t help but grin back, strangely proud that he made the boy with the wonderful voice laugh like that.

“I don’t use my phone a lot,” Ronan confessed but protectively curled his fingers around the phone number anyway and Adam knew he was going to call him.

“See it as a Christmas present to me,” Adam replied and Ronan’s lips pulled in a smirk, leaning closer to him as he spoke his next words.

“And what is my present then?”

Adam rolled his eyes, somewhere between exasperated and amused, knowing that he would be walking that fine line more often with Ronan. “A date?”

Ronan’s cheeks flushed a little again and he nodded. Adam cheered inwardly. “Deal,” he replied as if they were in some kind of business meeting. He briefly frowned, having realised that himself too.

Adam wanted to tease that he was more like his brother than he was probably willing to admit but he kept his mouth shut to ensure he would still go on that date.

“Deal,” he replied softly instead and watched as Ronan finally turned to leave, looking back one last time at him before going back into the cold. Adam watched Ronan push Declan and ruffle Matthew’s hair before getting into the shark-nosed BMW and driving off, the pristine snow still lingering to its exterior.

The myth of the Lynch Brothers didn’t end there but next Christmas, Adam was in on it too. He didn’t carol, it was something for the brothers alone. Instead, he comfortably sat on the worn couch of the Barns, sipping hot chocolate with Chainsaw, Ronan’s raven, her beak comfortably pressed into his neck, waiting for the brothers to return.

With them, the Lynches brought warmth and joy, a liveliness that Adam had missed in those years alone. It wasn’t before long that they came barrelling through the door, Ronan curling up next to him, one arm around the back of his shoulders as they retold where they had been caroling, how the old ladies of the church wished Adam a happy Christmas.

And Adam did have a happy Christmas, more so than he ever experienced before. He was surrounded by people he cared for more than anything and finally understood what the true Christmas spirit was about. Love, joy, and most importantly, spending time with your family, be it born or found.

#pynch #pynch fic #pynch fanfic #pynch fanfiction #trc #the raven cycle #trc fanfic #the raven cycle fanfiction #adam parrish #ronan lynch #pynchpromptweek #declan lynch #matthew lynch #mine

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fred-frederator-studios · 4 years

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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.

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.

.....

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.

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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.

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"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

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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.

vimeo

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.

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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.

#Dale Pon

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hqprotectionsquad · 4 years

Note

16 + 27 + 28!!!!!

16: how well do you think your music tastes would mix? would they like the music you listen to? would you like the music they listen to?

for the most part, i'm a music sponge! there are some genres i stray away from, but i really like a lot of the same kinds of music.

everyone's like lol what does tsukishima listen to anyways? i think he'd be listening to some kind of indie band or something like that, or jazz. i think the jazz part would be something in common, but i don't think i listen to really anything indie. i think he'd find my music taste to be too mainstream at times, but whatever.

akaashi probably also likes jazz. he listens to many movie soundtracks, and i do as well, so that’s something we have in common. as for my music, he’ll most likely gravitate towards the softer music like sleeping at last.

ennoshita probably likes rock bands and pop music. i can see myself bobbing my head along to what he listens to. i think he’d like my music taste too! he and i will jam to niki together and that’s why i’m dating him <3

27: why do you think they fell for you?

all of them: size kink

tsukishima: after seeing me set someone straight, he was pretty intrigued. mostly intrigued because 'she’s so small yet she has such a loud voice— why do i keep thinking about her’ and the rest is history because i trapped his ass

akaashi: after seeing me attempt large books because he suggests them, he realizes it’s the thought that counts. he likes that i work hard for everything i do.

ennoshita: he will undeniably laugh at my jokes and i think it’s because i’m funny (which i am not) but it’s really because he loves seeing me laugh before i tell every joke. and he knows i will barely be able to deliver the punchline because i am laughing too hard thinking about it. ooo and he also likes the fact that we’re both study people.

28: why do you think you’d fall for them?

me to them: size kink

they are all literally a foot+ taller than me, pls do not get me started on the difference between me and tsukki

tsukishima: i think it’s the cynical mysterious vibe he puts off. i think i’d really like his energy because he’s a low maintenance person as far as emotions go. so really i’d think he’d be a good person to vibe with just because i believe we're similar people when it comes to that. (zuko and mai who)

akaashi: he’s also a mysterious type, but he’s very cool. he honestly seems like the person in class i’d look at one day and just start falling for because he’s so pretty (akaashi is the pretty one ok!)

ennoshita: seeing him lead for sure. and lemme tell you i would fall on the floor for this man after seeing him sub in for daichi as well as seeing him learn how to become the next captain. like yessir, that is my captain speaking.

#raenah x lara #our ship name is tsukilara #our ship name is lakaashi #our ship name is ennolara

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dlugo7-blog · 4 years

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Still Here.

Disclaimer:

I’ve seen so many wins and losses, both in my life and in others’, and I wanted to share my experiences from what was quite easily the toughest 365 I’ve ever faced. This isn’t to bring attention to myself, but more so to let you know that we’re all human. I hope you read this and it helps you somehow; whether you can relate or not, we’re all in this life stuff together. Be confident, be you, always.

It’s been… a while? Sure, the decade is coming to a close, and it’s great that many are reflecting on the last ten; however, I myself wanted to focus on this past year in particular.

Making decisions is inevitably a part of life that we eventually must tackle with confidence. The spectrum of decisions features endless possibilities: from black or white socks in the morning, to which job you should take, one is small, one is big, both are crucial.

I made a decision at the end of last year that changed my life forever. This decision was something that I never envisioned happening. When I say never, I mean not one millisecond did my mind wonder off into a state that featured this decision coming to life in any way, shape, or form. There were plenty of reasons that I didn’t think that a decision like this would ever have had to be made, but the main ones were the power in and faith of love, which I still possess to this day.

With that decision came the darkest days of my life, but opportunistic ones subsequently. I started a new position at Nike, which consisted of a three month “stretch assignment” as a part of the music team. I was primed and determined to obtain a corporate-level position after the 90 days because I knew that I had worked my ass off and was ready for the next step in life, but also partially because I needed the aforementioned next step for the sake of my own mental.

The first month was full of learning and growth; I was blessed yet again to rub shoulders and engage in conversation with some of the most creative, hard-working people that I had ever met. For my Nike vets out that made the choice to read this, I was just trying to be a sponge early on in the process. January was a blur, but it closed with me being asked, “is your schedule clear for the first week of February? We want you to go to LA.”

*cues “Bicken Back Being Bool”* The night before leaving, I had one of the toughest conversations I’ve ever had in my life; one that semi-clarified the direction in which my life was heading in. I’ll never forget the ride to the airport in the morning; I let it all out in that Uber while texting my inner circle. I told them that I was scared as fuck, in so many ways, but I thanked them for always keeping me afloat in midst of this life shit. I’ll say this until I am blue in the face, but you are only as strong as your support system. I’m often one to bottle up, but we’re all human at the end of the day, and I have no shame in admitting that. I boarded the plane, my brain scrambled, with my first solo work trip staring me in the face.

I landed in LA, arrived at my hotel, and walked into a room that was straight out of the movies. TV mounted on a pole in the middle that swerved whichever way you wanted it to, king-sized bed with a bathtub adjacent to it, and a mirror the size of a Manhattan skyscraper. The best part was the fruit platter that was assembled on the table, which had an envelope propped up against it that said “Mr. David *middle name* Lugo.” I felt like Hov, y’all. I can’t lie.

The trip was full of nothing but positivity. I’m forever grateful to the both East and West music teams for showing me an insurmountable amount of love throughout my time with them, but this trip in particular was something I’ll never forget. I got the opportunity to meet so many people in higher places, and experience things “on the other side.” I was ten feet away from Jorja as she performed, and I was never so close to losing a job in my life. That’s cap, but, what a moment that was. “If you asked this little kid from Brooklyn who had dreams of being in the MLB if he would be on a work trip in LA working in the music world, he would’ve looked at you like you were crazy. Thank you for taking a chance on me.” That’s the text I sent in gratitude at the conclusion of the trip. I meant every word.

Time passed, and I kept working hard, as always. I started to gain some traction, some momentum, both physically and mentally. Then, March 31st came. I’ll never forget being on Dave’s couch watching Duke and Michigan State when Ian stopped and said, “Not Nipsey, man.” I frantically refreshed Twitter, the only word I could utter was “fuck.” Thirty-three years old, shot and killed in front of what he built. He’s playing in the background as I type this now, and it still doesn’t seem real. I’ll never forget coming to work and talking to Kha about it. He said, “that’s so crazy, because you always tried to get me to listen to Nip.”

The next day was the start of my last week at the office. I barely spoke to anyone that day, because that shit hurt. It still does, there’s no way around it. Ironically, one of my close friends was getting married in LA that weekend. I’ll spare the details, but despite my hard work and determination those few months, the stars weren’t fully aligned yet, and there was no room for me to join the corporate team. The trip to celebrate love couldn’t have come at a better time.

I made my way out West, and it was bittersweet for obvious reasons: the decision to close out the last year, Nip’s death, not getting a permanent look at the office, and a variety of other life obstacles all weighed on me. We pulled up to Slauson to pay our respects, and hundreds of people were gathered to celebrate Hussle’s life. As emotional as it was, the love and energy that was there was truly special.

Wedding day came, and to see love at its’ peak was a beautiful thing. My friends were so happy to be joined in marriage; the company, the scenery, the aura, all of it was perfect. They even walked out to “U See Us,” and I was so gassed that I went and thanked them after. Nip blaring out of the speakers as they walked into the hall was something I didn’t expect. Full transparency, as gushingly happy as I was for everyone involved, I was selfishly sad a bit. Reflecting is great, but reminiscing isn’t always the same. A combination of the two made for a constant tug of war in my mind. As I sat in the airport waiting for my departing flight back home, I couldn’t help but think how this could’ve been me soon.

I got back home, hot to cold, literally. Back at the store, I felt trapped again. Creatively, I was fed up with my lack of progress due to circumstances that were out of my control. The one constant positive thing about that door was the people and the running community that was built there. I loved being that guy to round the troops up to go for a run after work, motivating others to join me regardless of their running experience.

A big step in my personal growth this year had a lot to do with running, as many of you may already know. I took it extremely serious, and developed a new passion that I never could’ve imagined coming to life. This new found passion allowed me to lead in a new way, inspire in a new way, and most importantly be happy in a new way. I am forever grateful for every single person that encouraged me, ran with me, or was involved in the journey that is still going to this day. I’m forever in debt to you all.

Skipping a few months of a routine cycle, which led to this.. Remember that opening paragraph about decisions? Well, I faced a pretty fucking massive one in July, when I stepped out of the box and bet on myself. Real quick, though, shout out to Roddy for a late contender for Song of the Year with “The Box.” Unbelievable.

Anyway, I felt stuck and decided to reach out to someone who had offered me some help a while back if I ever needed it, based on some work that I had done in the past. I took his word for it and set up a meeting. That meeting led to another meeting, which led to an interview, which led to a 90+ degree day in July. I was at Citi Field for Go Play Day with Nike, when I got a text from said person saying that he wanted to speak about a potential offer. I couldn’t take the call because I was occupied teaching first graders the proper fundamentals on how to field ground balls and step into their throws. Clearly more important. So serious, by the way.

The call happened the next day, and I was offered a job. Holding back tears like Will in The Pursuit of Happyness, I thanked the other end of the phone a million times, and the call ended. I broke down, my pals. The accumulation of hard work, persistence, struggle, pain, and everything you could imagine had brought me to this point. That’s where I’ve been since August, putting in some serious work with an All-Star team. I’m leading my own year long project, and doing the damn thing.

Damn, it’s been a while since I’ve written. I’m tired. I’ll use this paragraph to tell y’all some random facts about the year. Amanda and Darren had a baby, and Adonis is perfect. He’s a baby me, and I can’t wait to take him to the park. I went to Oregon and Seattle, went up to the Space Needle which was beast, and had a peaceful time exploring such a beautiful coast. I went to more of Ian’s plays because he’s a superstar. I ran with Dave because he realized I’m not trying to be a bodybuilder like he is, so to get him to run was like pulling teeth. Freddie Kitchens is the worst coach ever. I started going to church this year, and it’s one of the best decisions I’ve made in quite some time. I dyed my hair because, life? I got two tattoos, one of which has been years in the making and is an ode to Sade, Bob Ross, and myself. I fell in love with Snoh. I don’t know, a lot of shit happened.

To close out this damn near novel of the year, I want to say that I’m proud of myself. I’m still standing, and I didn’t know what to expect as I wrote this. It was emotional, without a doubt. I’ll continue to reflect, I’ll continue to reminisce, and I’ll continue to be human. I encourage you all to do the same. I’ll continue to walk in faith, and give all glory upstairs. I don’t really know how to close this, which is weird, but as I always say, love is love. Whether it’s to close out this decade, or to start the new one, make a decision. Right or wrong, have faith it’ll all work out. I still do.

- The Boy

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balmerancrystalance · 6 years

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good for the soul ryance hcs

adam is giving the mfe pilots instructions but the second the pretty boy with the blue eyes and bright smile comes out of the pod the world stops

adam: was i clear, cadet?

kinkade: i'm so gay

rizavi, under her breath, offended: wow, bi erasure much?

adam: become a teacher they said, it’ll be fun they said. fuck you, takashi

cue to shiro lightly tapping adam’s shoulder

iverson introduces the paladins and pilots and lance calls kinkade “ryan”

rizavi, being the godsend she is: actually, he’s not comfortable with people calling him-

kinkade, blushing: its okay, really *turning to lance* you can call me ryan

the mfe pilots might be in the middle of an alien war but that had to be at the top 5 of most unbelievable things they've ever seen

leifsdottir: it’s not humanly possible but you just might be blushing about 50 shades of red right now *turning to rizavi* d-did i used the reference right?

rizavi, on the floor: you got it, babygirl

griffin wheezing noises in the background

kinkade goes to visit lance at his hospital room after war is over, lance pretending to be asleep just to see how ryan will deal with his mom alone, his plan backfiring him when the beeping of his heart going into cardiac arrest coming from the machine betrayes him when the word "hero" comes from the other boy's lips

lance goes to shiro with his mayhaps-mayhaps-not boy problems

lance: i thought nothing could scare me anymore, i mean i died and everything but now a pretty boy smiles at me and i feel like i’m gonna be sick

shiro: yOU fUCkING DiEd??!!!?!!?!!

since his talk with shiro almost ended up on him dying, again, lance goes to adam, he doesn’t get that much help but b OI does he has enough material to blackmail shiro now

desperate times call for desperate measures

lance: you have to promise not to tell anyone but... i think ryan likes me...? and i think i like him too...?

keith, stopping halfway his knife trick:

keith: and they say i'm the dense one? jfc its like adam and shiro all over again

lance is telling ryan voltron stories, and ryan it’s a great listener of course, but just objectifies he’s having a hard time believing lance piloted a giant robotic alien lion

lance, before he realizes what he's saying: i could show you around sometime

kinkade, smirking: are you offering me a ride?

lance, after rebooting for the 5th time that night: only if you say yes

spolier alert ahead: he says yes

lance: you'll have to be careful tho, red isn't very-

red’s jaw drops at the sight of kinkade just like everyone else

lance: ...friendly

kinkade, already getting inside: hey, you coming?

lance, staring at the red lion for solid 5 seconds: traitor

dudes pals bros who train together...

kinkade, panting: okay, you might be good at shooting and sparring but i'm sure there's something i'm better at

sponge bob narrator's voice: a few moments later

kinkade, pining lance to the ground: hm, who knew you'd be so bad at hand on hand combat? i win, again

lance, smirking: i got you pinning me down so who's the real winner here

lance asking kinkade for advice because he could listen to him talk forever, and if takes pride he's the only one ryan says more than two words to no one needs to know

lance: nice work out there, sharpshooter

pidge, confused: i thought sharpshooter was your thing?

lance, sighing dreamily watching as ryan walks away: he’s about to be

one day shiro beckons kinkade over after training

kinkade, mocking: is this the part where we have the "you break his heart, i break your neck" talk, commander?

shiro: hmm, i didn't even thought about it but now that you mention it *shiro's arm glow*

one night while doing his perimeter check kinkade bumps into lance stargazing at the garrison's rooftop

lance, smirking: hey, you come here often?

kinkade: umm, we take turns to do our night rounds and i'm in charge of this wing today

lance, after going over the garrison pilots' schedules with hunk and pidge ten thousand times: oh, i didn't knew that

another night kinkade walks into the showers late at night after training, immediately stopping dead on his tracks

someone is s i n g i n g

someone is s i n g i n g in the s h o w e r s

someone is s i n g i n g in s p a n i s h in the s h o w e r s

lance, walking out of the shower: ah! oh, ryan, you scared me! *blushes looking away tightening his altean robe around himself* sorry, i'm still not used to share with so many people after being stuck in space, and i come from a huge family like-wow, okay, i'm rambling again. so, i'm just gonna-

kinkade, turning to take off his shirt, not being able to look at lance in the eye: you have a beautiful voice, lance

*lance.exe has stopped working for so many reasons*

lance beaming when ryan asks him the next day what song he was singing, making his way downtown walking fast and into his room to look for his ancient mp4 where his childhood playlist was intact and giving it to him

lance’s heart screaming in two different languages when ryan asks him to share headphones so lance can translate the songs for him

they try to learn spanish together but both get awfully distracted

lance convinces ryan to do beauty masks with him because, bonding of course, and if he gets to touch the other boy while doing so he won’t complain

kinkade, who has been bullied when little, thrives as lance keeps rambling about how cool his hair is and how beautiful his skin tone is

kinkade: you do know you don't need these, right? or cover up your freckles? or straighten your hair? or pretend you don't use reading glasses?

lance, thanking god the mask won't let his blush show: h-how?

kinkade, quickly looking away: i just like observing people

hunk and ryan become cooking buddies and that’s the law

hunk, leaving the room: and whatever you do, don't let lance lick the spoon

lance, indeed, immediately goes for the spoon

kinkade: lance...

lance, licking the spoon: yes, ryan?

*kinkade.exe has stopped working*

lance knows both the paladins and the mfe would rat him out so literally his only choice is

lance: come on, veronica. i need you to work with me here

veronica: lance, for the last time, my knowledge on the mfe pilots is strictly academic so no, i don't know if kinkade enjoys romcoms, long walks on the beach and deep talks about his future

they're hanging out at lance's old room, with the door open because lance’s mom says so, when ryan finally notices the glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling

kinkade, snorting: oh my god. you were that kind of nerd *they both giggle then stay in silence* how was it like? *turns to lance* to see real ones?

lance: if there's something i've learned from space is that everything is more beautiful up close

kinkade, looking at lance: yeah..

its movie night for team garrison/team voltron but certain pair is mia

pidge at the mfe: wait, if lance isn't with you...

rizavi at the paladins: and kinkade isn't with you...

allura, entering the room: has any of you seen the blue lion?

meanwhile on what was left of varadero beach after the war

lance, walking into the water with his jeans rolled up: i've been dying to come here since since i got back, it looks so different, but still so beautiful. i’m glad you accepted to come with me

as if out of a fucking nicholas sparks book, it starts to rain, and fuck if it isn’t perfect because lance looks so fucking happy and ryan is just weak

kinkade, watching as lance dances under the rain: hey, lance? speaking of things we've been dying to do since you got back

lance, turning to him, smiling: yeah?

kinkade takes lance’s hand to pull him in a twirl and finally kissing him, loosing his balance and falling into the water when lance immediately kisses him back

bonus

keith, sitting upside down on the couch playing video games: lance, how do you get a boyfriend?

lance, pausing the game to look at him dead in the eye: keith, my man, the fact i'm dating ryan doesn't mean i have any idea of what the fuck i'm doing

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winterflash-2019 · 7 years

Text

For You : Barry Allen x Reader

You walked in Star Labs holding 4 cups of hot coffee and you were struggling considering you was holding your car keys and your phone plus your jacket.

“Uh guys a little help” you say and Cisco grabs the coffee from your hands and passes them out to everyone. You notice Iris in Barry’s lap and they were kissing and you roll your eyes not that you weren’t happy for Barry I mean he finally got the girl he was chasing his whole life it’s just that you liked him a lot hell you love him. They been dating for 2 months and you loved Barry way before they even got together

“Can you guys please stop sucking face it’s annoying” Cisco said as he sits back down at his desk and Barry and Iris laugh and you had a frown on your face not just because of Barry and Iris but the fact that your stomach has been hurting all day.

“Hey y/n you okay?” Barry asked you as he saw the frown on your face and Iris looked at you also

“I’m fine Barr really but uh I gotta go pick up Adam I’ll be back” you say and walk out the cortex.

Adam was your 4 year old son. The little boy wasn’t planned considering you were raped at 17 but you love him regardless. You didn’t tell the team about you being raped you just told them you had a son.

“Well that was weird” Barry says and Iris puts her hand on his shoulder

“When is Y/n not weird” Iris jokes and everyone laughs

-with y/n-

“Hi mommy ” The little boy says as he hugs your legs

“Hi baby"you say as you put him in the backseat

"Are we going to see Barwey” Adam says he’s in the process of learning words

“Yes we are my little munchkin” you say after a groan leaves your lips. Your stomach pain was getting worse and you started breathing heavy while struggling to keep your eyes open so you won’t crash

“Mommy are you otay” Adam asks

“M-mommy is fine baby” You speed up and after 10 more minutes you arrive back at the lab. You unbuckle adam and close the door

“Mommy can you hold my hand”

You look down at the boy but everything was blurry as you swayed eventually falling on the ground smacking your head on the sidewalk and going unconscious.

“MOMMY” Adam yells and shakes you. He starts crying loudly and runs into the lab .

“Hey little man what’s wrong ” Iris says as she picks him up

“My mommy won’t wake up” he crys and Barry instantly looks worried

“What happened where is she” Barry says getting ready to run

“She outside on the grownd”

Barry speeds outside to find you on the ground just like the little boy said and picks you up and speeding into the med bay.

Adam wouldn’t stop crying. Iris tried everything to get him to stop but he wanted you.

It was an hour later when you finally woke up to see everyone around you.

“Mommy you awake"the little boy yells and you run your fingers through his hair

"It’s okay baby” you say and Barry was looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face .

“Y/n” Barry says sternly and you look up at him

“Why didn’t you tell anyone that you was sick”

Everyone looks at each other and walks out the room. They didn’t want to stay it’ll be too awkward and Iris decided to take Adam to the park.

“I didn’t want to be a burden I was fine Barry” you say and you see his face getting redder

“No you wasn’t okay…what if you passed out while you were driving you could’ve hurt yourself and Adam”

“Barry why do you care” you say starting to get irritated Barry has never gave a damn about you why should he start now.

“Because you’re my best friend and I love you and Adam I don’t want you guys to get hurt”

“Barry you never cared please don’t start now..you only give a damn about Iris” you say while pulling the Iv out your arm and standing up to put on your shoes

“That’s not true Y/n and you know it okay yes I care about Iris but I care about you too"Barry says darkly and now you’re face to face.

"Cut the shit Barry okay I’ve know you for 5 years and hell throughout all of them I loved you and I still do Barry…that’s the problem I love and care about you but you don’t reciprocate those feelings back…BARRY EVERYTHING I DO IS FOR YOU. You yelled trying so hard not to cry as you looked at Barry’s face. His eyes were wide and his mouth was in an O shape.

"Y-Y/n I didn’t know you felt that way” he says as he rubs a hand down his face

“Yeah I know…look Barry I know you don’t feel the same cause you have Iris…I think I need a break from things” you said and walked out and Barry didn’t stop you.

It’s been 5 weeks since you confessed to Barry and life was actually peaceful. At the moment you was at home in your pajamas watching sponge bob with Adam. He wanted a day where you and him watch movies and make cookies and cake and you did just that. You heard a knocking on the door and paused the tv and ran to the door opening it to find Barry with tears streaming down his face.

“Oh my god Barry come in” you say as you step aside and he sits on the couch

“Barwey are you otay” Adam asks and Barry just smiles weakly at the little boy

“Hey Adam Baby how about you go to your room for a minute okay” you say and he nods his head and runs as fast as his little legs can take him to his room.

You sit next to Barry and put an arm around his shoulder" Barr it’s okay you can tell me what’s wrong"

He looks into your eyes"Y/n…Iris cheated on me s-she slept with Eddie “ he stutters and you gasp how dare she. Barry really loved her and that’s how she repay him.

"Hey barr look at me” you say and turn your body to face him and place both hands on his face . “Iris doesn’t deserve your tears barr if she can’t see that you’re perfect and that you love her then she’s not worth it barry” you say quietly and he nods

“Loved” Barry says and you furrowed your eyebrows

“Huh”

“I loved Iris but I love someone else…y/n I love you” Barry says and his voice cracks and you smile

“I love you too Barry I never stopped” you say with a whisper and Barry leans in and kisses you but was interrupted by Adam

“Ewww Barwey kissing mommy” Adam says and you and Barry pull apart and look at the little boy while laughing as he comes up to Barry and slaps his knee

“Don’t hurt my mommy or I kick your butt” He says while pointing a chubby finger at Barry and Barry puts his hands up

“I would never hurt your mommy” he says and picks up Adam and starts tickling him

“Hey put my munchkin down” You say and jump on Barry’s back while laughing and he puts Adam on the floor and repositions you on his shoulder and starts tickling you

You squeal “Adam. save .mommy” you say through fits of giggles and Adam starts hitting Barry’s leg and he finally puts you down and Adam grabs your hand and runs to the kitchen

“Yayy awee thanks baby” you say and put him on the counter as Barry walks in the kitchen

“Let’s start baking these cookies” you say still giggling

“This is my home now I love you guys you’re my life” Barry says and kisses your forehead and rubs his hand through Adams hair.

The cookies were delicious

#barry allen imagine #barry allen #barry allen x reader #love

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mechagalaxy · 6 years

Text

Half Baked with a side of Penguins

We captured an Optio. You know, one of those really big freaky looking mecha with all the BDSM looking add ons? This one had a pilot, and the pilot was the bad news. It’s too painful to explain, so I will just play the tac feed from the encounter.

-------Encounter at Northing 0127 Easting 2150 [Bob Schlomer, call sign Viper 19, Bouncing Blue Berserkers]

[cockpit recording]“Frag me with a goat, that thing has been shot to doll rags. What is that, a Fusion ID? Those guys are deader than disco”

[transmission]“Viper one nine to Base, contact report. One bogie, BFM, no transponder, signs of battle damage”

[inbound-base]“Base to Viper one nine, approach with caution, one rank only, maintain real time link. If it’s a trap, extraction is the priority, shoot the bait and get out”

Fanning his mecha along the ridge line, Schlomer advanced with the caution taught him by the Steel Viper in his youth. As he approached the Optio, he saw the chain guns spin up and swing towards his Boreas, and his own Winter’s Grasp powered up, the ghost outline of cross hairs sliding over the cockpit of the damaged machine as his optics automatically enhanced and ran visual recognition sub-routines.

[cockpit] Frag me running, its Half Baked Harrison!

[transmission] “Half Baked you half wit, zero those guns or I swear by the Omnissa I will ram my battlefist up your rectum and stuff a clue into that empty head STAND DOWN!”

[inbound-unknown] “Bob! Is it you? Are you one of the voices in my head? Are you with the bad people? They took my shoes Bob. They took my shoes and gave me such terrible drugs, they wanted things, Bob, wanted to know things. They gave me these pajama’s, and they are wonderful, but they chained me to their chairs, and stuck their probes into my implants and gave me such terrible visions. I hate penguins, hate them, tell me there are no penguins after me Bob, NO PENGUINS!!”

[transmission] “Viper one nine to base, I have Half Baked Harrison here in a mecha, it looks like someone snatched him and asked him some hard questions. Like really hard. His AI is worried about him, the mecha is giving me emergency access and I am running the best programs we have to stabalize him, but he is so full of drugs neither his implants nor my medical nanites are holding it. Only reason he hasn’t flatlined by now is the Optio mecha he stole seems to be keeping him alive. Oh and he’s out of ammo. Shot himself dry killing the penguins who were coming to eat his soul, so figure he is crazier than usual by a parsec or so”

[transmission] “Half Baked old buddy, you can come home with my team. Nurse Jessica will give you some slippers and a nice bed, no bad dreams, and no penguins, only some nice fluffy bunnies to keep the penguins away OK? If your good, you might even get a sponge bath!”

Optio mecha moves to rear of the formation and extraction proceeds for 1.26km without incident. At 1.67km enemy mecha detected. [Alarms scream]

[transmission] “Viper One Nine to base, Contact report, Bogies, many bogies, unknown ID, presumed hostile. Moving to box us in, requesting weapons free, targets are not broadcasting IFF, are not broadcasting challenge, and have commenced broad spectrum jamming. Presumed hostile, requesting weapons free, and if I don’t hear back I am FRACKING SHOOTING FIRST ANYWAY”

Bob cut loose with a Winter’s Grasp at extreme range and brought a Corsair up short. His Ignus rocked under an Optio’s Leveller shots, but Grimlock his Regis rammed a Blue Dragon that forked to freeze that Optio and kill his wingman. His Fext pulsed out a Triple Matrix salvo that cored a Tyhoon’s missile rack and set off a series of sympathetic ammunition explosions to gut the monster machine.

Moving to a run, he punched his command down the throat of the inbound, seeking to break the trap through the only point with only one rank between him and escape. As he did his cockpit software picked up the heraldry on the inbound machines and flashed recognition signals. The sounds of Bob’s shock were loud enough to be picked up by his recorder.

Hammering a Flame Column for a critical kill, his Ignus cleared the last of the line as Bob triggered his own Pagetó Daímona to fork and freeze the first two of the next rank to buy time to ask what needed to be asked of his half baked rescue.

[transmission] “Talk to me Half Baked, these are Unification troops, how the frack are they here, we destroyed all their portals and blew up their Chroniode. We trapped them and those Xeon fanatics in their own parallel universe of bad uniforms and public Tri-Vid infomercial hell for all time. HOW ARE THEY HERE?”

[inbound] “Bob, don’t be mad Bob. I used the scraps of Chroniode that survived to power a one time pull through time to bring back the Chroniode you destroyed. I fixed it! Isn’t that marvelous? Then I figured that Unification are so crazy because they never got to go to Clan War like we did, never got to fight in real clans, only those dinky little squads, and pointless lootless kill missions, not glorious battle, followed by looting, pillaging, and partying like we did. Wouldn’t it be great if they could learn to be real pilots again, not just genocidal killing machines?”

[transmission] “Half Baked, tell me you didn’t go back there. Please tell me you didn’t make a portal to go back there.”

[inbound] “Bob, I promised I would never build another portal machine, and I keep my word. I just used the Chroniode to make our gates access their world, and used the Chroniode to pull the old gates from a time before Unification and Xeon destroyed them all, so now their worlds all have a real gate network, and they can learn how to all be friends, and be proper mercenary clans, killing each other for fun and profit, no marching, no speeches, no politics, just looting and drinking, like it’s supposed to be!!”

[transmission] “Half baked you nitwit! You gave them gates that can access our worlds when you know they are starving and out of everything we have because of their stupid and pointless wars, they are going to storm over our worlds and kill everyone in them just to keep their utopian crap hole in perfectly regimented poverty for another generation. Why did you do it?”

[inbound] “I’m sorry Bob. It was the penguins. I could take the fire, the spiders, the skinning, the leaches, even the acid baths, but when they staked me out for the penguins, I cracked. Not the penguins Bob. Don’t let them leave me for the penguins again. I can’t take it. NOT PENGUINS!”

Bob was staring at the dirt, letting his autorepair systems work to put his machine back in shambling order as he watched the shining vorpal sword of Samurai, his second rank Guardian cut through the last of the Unification troops between him and the gate.

[transmission] Don’t worry Half Baked, we won’t let the penguins get you. Ominssa help the rest of us, but you will be safe.

0 notes

muffindaddystyles · 4 years

Text

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.

Where Harry's five years old bubba gets lost in a park while playing hide and seek. You help her to find her daddy.

Warning: Emotional and whole lot of fluff <3

Pastel tutu frock, a lil bucket hat and shoes that makes 'puch.' 'puch.' noises when she waddles with her adorable toddler gait chasing her father.

It's still early in the morning less people more relieved Harry that he could spent some affectionate time with his lovin' little girl of four out in the park, as a single father he dresses her with more fashion indulgment than any mother could.

Cheeky smug He's. Kinda proud of it.

They were playing hide and seek a bit far from their picnic basket ontop of checkered blanket along her toys. She came all the way from their home to car and car to park sitting on her daddy's shoulders.

"Dawwy! That's cheatin'." She stomped her dainty feet into sodden lush grass underneath and Harry grinned booping her button nose just like his's, "cheeky bugger." He watched her in amusement when she caught his slender finger with her chubby ones, pouting cutely at him.

"Kay. lovie' we're gonna play, again." He assured her raising his palms in air taking two steps back at once, "this time no cheatin', promise." She bobbed her head enthusiasticly running to hide behind the nearest largest oak tree as her daddy told her not to go too far from him ever.

Harry was rounding her from other side when too impatient she went to found Harry on other side, "daw'wy!?" Her flight of run like a dove in sky was startled when she found her tall, curly head daddy nowhere in sight.

She toddled further away even though Harry has instructed her never to leave a certain place no matter what, her daddy would find her at the same spot if something happens.

"Bubba? love bug'?" He frowned as his daughter who just hid behind the same bark vanished. Not getting anxious he strided back to their spot but she wasn't there.

She has come so far away in search of her daddy at first she told herself that "she's daddy's big girl." . "she would get back to him and he'd give her alot of kisses." But then she got scared seeing alot of people here and there. Her ending point of bravery was when some little pal hit her with soft ball.

The pool of tears bursted like rainfall from her soft warm eyes, staining her coral chunky cheeks and she rubbed her glossy eyelids with the back of her hand with series of hiccups making her vision more blurry.

You were sitting under a shade reading a copy of Little Women. Eyes flickering when you poked your tongue out to collect some moist on your finger to turn the paper, right then your eyes fell over the cutest fuzz of a lil girlie crying with painful fat tears waddling her way lost towards the pond and with a loud gasp you left everything running towards her before she was too close to it.

"Hey. hey kiddo." You reached at the mean time quickly scooping her up in your arms and she sobbed out loudly, "dawwy!" You stroked her hair as she snoggled her snotty nose and moist face in the crook of your neck.

"Honey are you lost?" You tried to calm her down by rubbing soothing circles at her back and she nodded with incoherent blabbering.

"Lemme me help you, yeah? Do you know your parent's names." You asked her politely taking her back to where you were sitting under the large tree and she pulled her face out murmuring a tiny, "yesh." You beamed at her giving her a thumbs up.

"You're doing so good, darlin'." You tucked her loose curls under her ear and she tells you her father's name, "Hawwy. S'tyles." She doesn't have her way with 's and t's.' sounds so it was 'yles.' coming from her mouth and you had to comprehend it yourself.

"Honey you know his number?" She counts on her fingers as Harry made her learn his phone number in case of any emergency like this but she's so anxious she forgot, silent tears again spilling out from her struggle. "Sh. sh. lovie'. S'okay, you're okay. you're safe with me." You cooes at her softly wiping her tears and kissing her cheeks gently rocking her on your knees.

"B-but. dawwy!" She hiccups badly and you made her sip water, feeling pitiful for the poor bub.

"Bubs we're gonna find your daddy, yeah? you and me together are a whole power puff team!" You again rock her cheerfully standing up with her on your hip. Taking the challenge on yourself to find her daddy in no less time.

On the other hand Harry was loosing his mind. He pulled at his hair anxiously, worry drowning him into deep. Scared for his bubba. She's so little im this huge park. Harry never lets her dodge from under his wings and now he's on verge of getting a panic attack. He should have never came to park. He went from one person to another showing his petal's picture to them hands trembling as he did so.

"Sh-she's fou'. Little pink hat, tutu frock. Chocolate c-curls in specific." He gesticulated voice wavering and with everyone denying he went absolute crazy.

Tears glistening in his eyes and he's feeling as if he'd stop breathing. Putting his hand over where his heart is he took long strides of the whole park which's too big and in the end he fell on his knees with a thud onto grass when he couldn't find his only life, the piece of his heart nowhere. Sobbing loudly that made him bent outwards.

They live near by so he quickly dialed gemma. When she heard him sobbing onto speaker she abruptly stood up scaring Anne too, "Harry what happened?" She asked worriedly.

"Harry talk to me." She tried in a calming voice and he stuttered even causing Gemma to lost her breath, "d-dovie. lost her gem. fuckin' lost her. Couldn't find her." She was quick to act not telling Anne and assuring her she would in their car ride.

Harry was falling into his mum's embrace when they rushed to security department where Harry's at as the cops assured him that they'll find his daughter safe and unharmed.

He whimpered soaking her shirt. Whole body shaking, "can't lost her mum, she's the only one I've." She tried to calm him getting rid of her own tears.

"S'been two hours I've been searching her like a mad man. I'll fuckin' die if somethin' happens to her." At this Anne scolded him as gemma hugged him reassuring him. "It's m'fault. All m'fault." His tears and emotions were all where and he blamed himself.

"Shit father. never gonna forgive myself." Anne sighed shakily stroking his head. She has never seen her son crippling to this edge.

"She's fine. We'll find her."

Your back sweaty as the sun shines on you mercilessly while you hurriedly walked with Dove on your hip, her head on your shoulder resting sadly while you fanned her continuously with the paper fan and you breathed hunching a little seeing that some security department's few steps away from you. But, it's the one opposite from where Harry and his family are.

You immediately went to first table not waiting for your breaths to get back to normal, "hi. This's Dove Styles. Four. Lost." You informed them and they made you sit at the bench.

She was getting all tired and limpy from the crying. So you took her in your lap tucking her head under your armpit, "daddy's soon gonna come okay dove darlin'? Then he's gonna collect you fuzz baby in his arms." You took out a box of juice from your backpack tapping the straw against her rosy lips and you took in her features thinking how beautiful her daddy must be to her be this cute.

Even though her daddy has sternly taught her never to accept things from strangers but the poor babe's so exhausted she did.

Some cop came cop telling you they've found her daddy that he's at the other security building but you shook your head stubbornly squeezing her near to your chest. Because well you don't trust anybody not even the cops, most importantly not when it's a child.

"Tell her daddy to come take his child from here." The cop grunts at you. "Annoying lady." but you ignored him checking on dove cleaning her hands that were sticky from her drinking juice like how toddlers do.

You were hot on your feet when three panicked figures came rushing inside Dove on your hip and you asked her, "is that your da—" but you were cut off from her yearning cry.

"Dawwy!" It was like sky and ground meeting as Dove latched into Harry's arms, he was too ripped to shreds and with a loud whimper he feel stingingly onto tiled floor firm grip around his dovie's neck, forearm wrapped around her little body protectively. He clutched onto her for dear life, sponging endless kisses to her visible skin.

"Thought I lost ye' bubba...really thought–" He said in between wet kisses his tears smudging her cheeks and the duo's reunion infront of you made you sentimental too. "Never scare daddy like this dove. m'heart stopped." She muttered a 'sowwy.' At his anxious rambling.

"Forgive me, dovie. Daddy's bad." She shook her head. The four year old's too soft from heart to know what emotions are scowling at her daddy with her chubby palms pushing into his cheeks, "no dada." You smiled at her when she glanced back at you.

"Y/n helped mew. She say we were power puff girls." You chuckled that she still remembers ruffling her hair, "see? Told ya daddy was gonna find you." Harry rubs his nose wiping his tears standing up.

"Thank you so much, can't thank you enough." You found his voice so mellow even after hoarseness, "s'okay. She's safe that all matters." Anne and gem nodded while talking to Dove in baby voices telling her how worried they all got.

You were walking outside while talking to Harry, "and thank ye' fo' not trusting anybody you know...and no' lettin' her go." You assured him shaking his hand.

"No problem." You leaned down a little kissing her cheek, "and dove honey never go near to ponds, yeah?" She said a lil 'okie." wrapping herself tight around her father.

"Oh my god, dovie?" He asked her horrid at what could happen taking her chin but you quickly rambled not wanting to make him feel more panicked and anxious.

"She was crying and in haze that's why, she's okay now Mr. Styles."

"I owe you y/n. And please just call me, Harry." You nodded sheepishly now. Muttering a what the hell you fool at yourself and gemma quipped.

"Yes. Please have lunch with us?"

"Pwease?" You laughed out aloud at dove's innocent pleading deciding to let your English class go and bobbing your head at which Harry grinned, "perfect."

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #cute harry #fluff #harry angst #harry smut #hsh #imagines #harry #angst with a happy ending

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saddnibbahours · 7 years

Text

hello, moze. (continued)

mentally, i don’t know if i’m right. i confuse myself a lot. with who i am, with my emotions, my personality.

i’m not entirely sure i know who i am, actually. what my real personality is. i spend all of my life meeting new people and adapting their personalities, or wanting to be them. i learn how they are and train myself to be more like them, to be more like everyone else. to fit in. in fact, it’s come to a point where i’m not aware that i’m doing it. every day, it seems like i’m this new person. someone different. i adapt into people i see, characters i read about, actors that i see on tv or movies. i want their personalities. but where’s mine?

i lie a lot. i worry that maybe i’ve started to become a compulsive liar. a manipulator. i know that’s what i am, actually. i know it. i do it all the time without thinking, without blinking. it flows out of me like a water fall, there’s no dam to block the words or my emotions. i fake it. i fake everything.

i never know what’s real about me. i never know if i’m just acting to impress myself. are my emotions real? is what i’m feeling mine? or is it adapted from someone else?

i’m like a sponge. i soak up everything i see and add it to my library to use whenever i feel the need to be different. to be not me, whoever that is.

i know most people do this to build themselves, but i’m building myself off of lies. i’m going with the flow, following the in crowd. being who i see everyone else being, but also being spontaneous and different. self aware and self hidden. i’m not sure how i work or what my methods are.

it’s weird. i don’t know what i am. or who i am.

this passing year, i’ve summoned up an alter ego. his name is randal, but he likes to go by roach. he’s eighteen, light skinned with a curly fro, and dark brown eyes. he’s pretty grudgy and edgy, listens to garage bands and indie vibes. his style in clothing is what a skater boy would wear, but he doesn’t ride boards. he doesn’t know how to. no, roach rides on skates. it’s his favorite thing to do. he loves burritos and cereal and new girl and bobs burgers. he’s bisexual, but only really enjoys sex with guys more than girls. he quite monotone and rude, he speaks before thinking which makes him blunt and slightly careless. often times, he’s oblivious, especially when it comes to other people’s feelings. he’s bipolar and is easily upset when he’s not taking his medication, which is quite often because he can’t smoke weed and feel high while medicated, so he hates taking them. in fact, he used to sale his prescription but recently stopped after getting busted but off the hook by his own mother, who’s sweet and patient with him.

i love being roach. i love his personality. i love his life, his attitude. i love that i made him. i want to be him. i want his entire existence to be me, and i hate myself for making him because now i am him. that’s confusing, so let me explain.

when i was on quotev, i went by that alter ego. i went by roach. i was roach. every day since this passing year, i’ve been roach and i’ve been living his life, telling his story in my words and making friends with people who believe that i’m him. that his story is mine, when really...he’s fake. his just this character i’ve come up with. but now it’s much deeper than that. i’ve adapted this fake personality. my attitude is his, my thoughts and opinions are his. my interests are his. the things i hate are his, my sexual orientation is his. i am him, i’ve become roach, and that’s so confusing for me because it makes me realize that i do, in fact, adapt people’s personalities. i take them. i steal them and make them my own, without even meaning to. and i want to stop. because i’m becoming an adult now, i’m going to be on my own soon. how can i be an adult when i can’t even be me? i can’t find who i really am, what i am.

sometimes i worry that these are signs of having a split personality. that i’m going to end up blacking out and waking up one morning to someone telling me that i was calling myself brandon and shaved my head bald. but then i wonder if this is just me overreacting. i’m reaching for a disorder that i don’t have, and for what? for attention? to seem cool? to seem relevant?

another reason why i heavily hate myself: i am my worse enemy. i’m always arguing with myself, telling myself that i’m just being an attention seeker. that there’s nothing wrong with me. that what i’m going through is not worth talking about to anyone else because no one will understand me anyway, so what’s the point? and a part of me knows this already, but i cant fight the feeling of wanting to be reassured. i want to be told by someone who knows what i’m talking about that i am, in fact, fine. that i don’t have to worry about suddenly switching personalities. that this is all in my head and maybe it’s just my depression fucking with me.

i don’t know. i’m very complicated and half of the time, i don’t make sense.

#rants #ranting #about me #my life #not worth reading #uh

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yelenaww · 7 years

Text

my 2016

A little late for a 2016 reflection, but I'm pretty much late for everything so this doesn't come as a surprise. "Better late than never", they say. 2016 was an interesting one, owing to routines different from peers and the previous years. I recall spending plenty of time on my own during the first half of the year because of my research degree, followed by a contrasting half which comprised of re-learning conversation with company both new and old.

Regardless of fluctuating surroundings in 2016, music remained a close companion. I'm one who rejoices over AUX cables and Spotify Premium, and would very much prefer listening to music in confined spaces- in a car or through headphones. It's funny how our brains are able to retain information as minute as when exactly we discovered an artist, the person who brought us to it, or how we felt at that particular time.

Here are a handful of songs which carry a little something, bringing me back to 2016.

[Future Bass] The Lighthouse And The Whaler - Venice (Louis The Child Remix), Genghis Khan - Miike Snow (Louis The Child Remix)

These songs were recommended by J earlier in the year. I remember struggling through chapter 2 of my thesis, sitting at my glass dining table and demanding for new music. I grew incredibly attached to Louis The Child upon the first listen and up till today, my ears smile at their distinctive playful music. These songs accompanied me to the lab on most mornings, even if it was a mere 10 minute walk door to door, as if to give me a cheery boost before a long dreary day looking at bacteria and mice.

Hackney Marsh - Slow Club

As mentioned earlier, the first half of 2016 was mostly quiet, which taught me to enjoy my own company. I sat on countless train rides to KL in 2016, just because, not that I had any specific liking towards KL itself. The buzzing crowds reminded me of London, with everyone having their own agenda, walking to and fro minding their own business. Being in crowds are refreshing once in awhile, for some reason. It felt strangely freeing, walking around aimlessly and not having to tell anyone my whereabouts. Hackney Marsh reminds me of the comfortable space I found in a quiet cafe one afternoon, where I worked on my thesis till the rain stopped.

UGH! , If I Believe You - The 1975

Matt Healy captures emotion so well through his music, bringing in the unique with his witty, poetic and almost twisted lyrics. B made a passing comment saying that it would be crazy if The 1975 ever came to Malaysia. It was pretty surreal watching The 1975 live together last August, considering how the both of us would always squeal at their songs which made us cry internally since discovering Chocolate on the radio.

From The Stalls - Angus & Julia Stone

Watching this duo perform live changed my initial impression of them back when Q recommended it. It was so beautiful, hearing Julia talk about Angus with such sisterly affection. Their soothing vocals accompany me on quiet days and drives. Conversations with Q throughout the year were both thoughtful and challenging. Through paragraphs of typed words (with sizable pockets of time in between), I found myself struggling to string my words and opinions together for they often seemed poorly formed in comparison to Q's linguistic flair and well-thought replies. Grateful for like-minded friends who patiently walk through difficult concepts, passages and tangled thoughts.

Polygon Dust - Porter Robinson ft Lemaitre

Porter Robinson (Worlds) was a huge part of my 2015-2016. His music, along with Flume's, initiated my growing electronic music gravitation, played often from day to day. Worlds was, in my opinion, a work of art reflecting Porter's interesting, unique character seen from interviews and his album's commentary (which I play continuously when I'm in need of a stress reliever, as silly as that sounds). Polygon Dust reminds me of night drives alone- the best time to be on the road.

White Lie - The Lumineers (Cleopatra)

I've come a long way with The Lumineers. There was such a stark difference between their two albums that it took me a while getting used to Cleopatra, which was a lot more mellow and mature, as if it was time for the little girl in me to grow up. Cleopatra reminds me of car rides with A. We have an unsaid agreement knowing that once in the car, we'd only play songs we both enjoy. She'd transition between Lord Huron, Radical Face and few other old indie favorites of mine, pinching me hard if I ever said I was falling asleep on the wheel.

In Your Atmosphere - John Mayer, Airplane - iKON

John Mayer- always having his way with words and one whom I'd pay to see live; his versatile harmonization sounding so beautiful and effortless. Live at the Nokia Theatre is by far my favorite compilation of his. John Mayer reminds me of warm, airy afternoons in the driveway of IMU- scheduled lunches with people, iced dirty chai latte in hand, surrounded by the smell of coffee. I like the driveway. You could sit there for ages, either hiding away from the crowd or be completely seen when you wanted to, countless conversations with familiar faces. Both of these songs remind me of W, their sad melodies carrying a sense of comfort whenever I feel down. On walks home, we'd talk about anything and everything under the sun- side by side since 2014 and in 2016, 2.5 hours apart. One who saw me at my best and worst, thank you for loving me.

Warm On A Cold Night - HONNE

There's something so mysterious yet calming about Honne's voice. This song takes me back to night swims and time spent preparing dinner in the kitchen back in Covillea. I stumbled upon this hidden gem in a stranger's playlist while washing the dishes and had to put down the sponge to press replay. Since then, my playlists have been peppered with many of his songs. Time in the kitchen always brings back fond memories of having L just across the 21st floor when she was around. Having identical Noxxa's (a pressure cooker) and a habit to clean the kitchen sink because it was a 'therapeutic' thing to do, most people say we're 'two peas in a pod'. Without a doubt, L's one who is irreplaceable.

Calling - Ukiyo

Calling was stolen from J's playlist, to which he immediately confirmed with me after watching my Singapore vlog. Whenever this song comes up, I see the memorized footage of the trip playing in sync with the beat of the song (inevitable, after spending overwhelming amounts of time on it). Video editing was something I picked up on a whim when deciding to do a farewell video for L before she left- what an experience that was. Since then, I've had newfound appreciation toward videos and see them in a whole different light.

M- not many encounter a friendship quite like ours, and I can only say that I'm incredibly blessed to have met a group like M. "Lasting friendships are built not on habits, but on principles." 2016 robbed us of our weekly, (terribly) exclusive hangouts, but I'm proud to say that we've made it through long distance in 2016 with bullet point updates, voice messages and intentional meet ups. Our array of personalities glued by the gospel continue to keep me humble and thankful for friends who are unafraid of transparency and rebuke.

Side To Side- Ariana Grande, Closer- The Chainsmokers, Calling Out- Penguin Prison

October was 'different' in full swing, being sent to Kluang for a month-long hospital posting with people I hardly knew. Nevertheless, it progressed slowly into a highlight of the year thanks to Y, N and K. Seeing them for a solid seven weeks has seen us through countless conversations, understanding each others personalities, quirks and principles. These were their respective favorite songs, played repeatedly in the car.

Y inspires me with her fierce independence, 11/10 initiative character and her appreciation towards friendships. Barely more than yoga acquaintances at first, we got along really well as room mates for a solid month. Immensely grateful for her honesty, I smile remembering the many topics we talked about when we were tucked up in bed- face moisturized, eyelids heavy, guard down.

Whenever Closer came on, K and I would laugh at the synchronized bobbing heads of Y and N. Strangely, N never struck me as an introvert upon first encounter. Yet a true introvert he was, after hearing his sentiments about crowds and alone time, while we sat at the lobby of the dodgy hotel. I value his inquisitive nature and enjoyed bouncing of his "why or how's" every so often.

K surprised me with his music taste followed by his sarcastic humor and thoughtful actions. Responding similarly in most instances and disliking the same things, we got along well through our backseat deejay struggles, salty Hearthstone runs, caffeine/alcohol trips and making unimpressed faces in response to N's 29837 puns. Reserved in most instances, it was a privilege hearing a bigger fraction of his thoughts over time.

No Problem (ft Lil Wayne & 2 Chainz) - Chance The Rapper

This fun song popped up at my sidebar of Spotify's Friend Activity, the album Colouring Book played often by V. Always fascinated by rap, this song started creeping into my playlist somewhere in November. On repeat throughout Melbourne and a little after, W would ask, "Why'd you like this song? It doesn't seem to carry any meaning.", making me stop in my tracks. It dawned upon me that I don't always digest the lyrics of songs which I listen to, or rather, I do it very selectively. Are we what we listen to? If yes, well.

Glorious- Colony House

Hope: - "..This means that a continual looking forward to the eternal world is not (as some modern people think) a form of escapism or wishful thinking, but one of the things a Christian is meant to do.

..Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it [desires], but only to arouse it to suggest the real thing. If that is so, I must take care, on the one hand, never to despise, or to be unthankful for, these earthly blessings, and on the other, never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only a kind of copy, or echo, or mirage. I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it my main object in life to press on to that other country and to help others do the same."- CS Lewis

Just like all years, my 2016 had its own set of doubts, distractions and stubbornness. Granted, we struggle with the unfavorable circumstances we're thrown at; but over time, we get by, scrape through, adapt. It's a little more tiring to be struggling with Self- our wants, character and human heart which remain fairly constant. Thankful to have those (namely M, S, E) who love me enough to remind me that Home is not here and to struggle alongside me. Immensely grateful for the gospel which sustains and is still able to bring tears to my eyes when it makes sense, regardless of any situation I'm in.

Thank you for being so colourful, 2016.

#wordy

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