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an-otterly-adorable-being · 8 months

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hello! if you don't mind i do have a request for poly Fizzmodeus x reader

can you do headcanons of them with a crush on an idol/popstar succubus who's secretly a single parent (to keep the kid safe bc reader knows the public will be more than invasive and will only reveal the kid when they're older)? like reader's hesitant to rlly get into a relationship with the two bc she's afraid of what they think.

a certain anime's been giving me this brainrot for a while and i don't have the skill to properly write this sjjdkdkdkskdk

I didn't focus too much on the succubus part, but I hope this is good.

Fizzarolli x Asmodeus x F!SingleParent!Reader

Fizz is not a great father, but he does try his best, and thats why I love him <3. Hope y'all enjoy!

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• Your tour ended recently, and you already have a new album being planned.

• For anyone else, it's a dream come true.

• For you, well, it's the break you desperately need to see your kid.

• You've been living a double life for a while.

• On one hand, you're a pop star, hiding her face beneath a variety of masks, with hundreds of thousands of adoring fans.

• On the other, you were a mom just looking out for her kid, trying to keep them out of the exhausting and draining world of fame.

• The mask thing was probably one of your best ideas, as it let you actually go out with your child without being accosted by the paparazzi.

• Plus the whole "secretive succubus" act was great for sales and popularity.

• Most of the money goes to your kid. Yeah, they may end up a tad bit spoiled, but you just want them to be happy.

• Plus, you do have the foresight to not make them an asshole.

• You've dealt with enough rich people in your time, and most of them are the exact kind of people you're trying to keep away from your child.

• Although...there are two that are pretty nice.

• You knew Fizzarolli first, both of you hitting Lust's entertainment circuit at the same time.

• You even had a small thing together for a little bit, although it never really grew. It was more platonic than romantic anyways.

• That's not to say that you hadn't considered going further, or that you didn't have some feelings for him, you just chose not to act on it.

• Asmodeus, on the other hand, found you after you had gotten a decent sized following.

• Unlike with Fizz, nothing really happened between you, but you did become good friends.

• He was also kind of hot too.

• When you had gotten back to your home, you were planning on take your kid out to do...something.

• You weren't sure, but it didn't matter, because someone had sent you a message.

• It was from Ozzie, inviting you over for dinner

• Problem is, you had just gotten back, and you really wanted to be with your kid.

• So, you asked if he could make sure that dinner stayed pg-13, which he questioned, but agreed to.

• You had been wanting to tell Asmodeus about you being a parent for a while, you needed to figure out dinner, and you didn't want to leave your child again, so why not kill 3 birds with one stone?

• When you got there, you got a pleasant suprise in the form of Fizzarolli.

• Fizz and Ozzie also had a suprise, the fact you had a kid.

• (I've been trying to leave the kid's age ambiguous, so that y'all can have a bit of freedom with it. If the kid's old enough, they introduce themselves, and if not you do it. Anyways, back to the headcanons.)

• It takes a good couple of minutes to explain everything, but they understand and respect your decision to keep your child out of the limelight.

• The dinner was nice, fancy too. Then again, you weren't expecting anything else.

• There was something odd though, you felt like Fizz and Ozzie were flirting with you.

• Turns out, they were.

• Apparently, both Ozzie and Fizz, who were together already, wanted to invite you into a little polycule relationship.

• And to be honest, you didn't hesitate to say yes.

• As mentioned before, you did have feelings for Fizz, and you did think Asmodeus was hot.

• Plus, you wouldn't mind having some help raising a child.

• Turns out that Ozzie is a pretty good parent.

• Fizz not so much, but he's trying.

• And dear Satan is it amazing to have people doting on you for once.

• Fans are one thing, romantic partners are so, so much better.

• And hey, at least your kid will grow up around some genuinely good people.

#fizzaroli x reader #headcanon #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss headcanon #asmodeus x fizzarolli #asmodeus x reader #fizzaroli helluva boss #fizzarolli #fizzarolli x asmodeus #helluva boss asmodeus #polyamory

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arathergrimreaper · 3 months

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So, I was accosted by some self-proclaimed Christian at the laundromat, right?

Keep in mind, I was minding my business as much as I could while waiting on my clothes to dry (forwent putting my earbuds in because it was too much hassle with my journal/sketchbook, my pen case, my bag, etc. and that seems to be how strangers in public fucking GET you so I will cease forgoing forthwith). She just comes up to me and hands me a card with her church and a QR code on it that, according to her, leads to "an important video" I just have to see. Mutuals, followers, cunt-rymen, when I say I never wished to have pyrokinetic abilities to be able to set it on fire in my hand more than at that moment....

Now, idk what tipped her off that I am one of those damned souls she's been indoctrinated to go after rather than doing anything actually fucking useful for the world (i mean, there are several genocides happening at the moment, pick one to help stop, why dontcha?). It might have been my lanyard which is rainbow, or my colored hair/piercings/tattoo, or the fact I was drawing gay aliens kissing but she just wanders over and politely...begins grilling me about where I live, where I work, how old I am, the afterlife, what I believe, if I think of myself as a good person, what would make me want to come to her church, etc (i did not tell her most of these things in any detail and it genuinely bothered me that she was asking. like I got warning bells about the fact she was asking).

Y'all already know what my queer, Pagan witch ass is about. I fucks with y'all. She had no idea, but all the audacity, apparently. Unfortunately, I still had 15 mins on my damn clothes so I had to play nice until I could leave.

She was genuinely surprised when I told her I don't consider myself a good person, nor really care all that much about the afterlife, including if there's a Hell or not. That I don't think you have to be a good person to do good things either. In Hellenic Polytheism, most people don't go to a paradise when they die. Or to Tartarus, unless they truly screwed the pooch somewhere. Elysium is meant for only the most impressive mortals, not necessarily what we would consider "good" in modern times. Heroes and demigods and the like. So, I don't subscribe to getting something necessarily better than this life after I die either. Said I would just be happy as long as there's no capitalism I have to live under when I die. She said 'I don't even know what capitalism is...'. That's when I knew, for certain, I didn't owe her a single damn explanation and started treating it like an interview upon receiving some kind of writing award or something.

She still kept trying to imply that I wasn't taking the threat of Hell seriously, but I also wasn't taking her seriously either. Woman is a teacher! Of little tots! Hope they tie her up with a jump rope on a spindly chair and wheel her ass into the closet. This who is shaping young minds and people really believe that crap about the old bigots dying off--they have already passed their bullshit on and it's running, footloose and fancy-free. Now, I honestly wish I hadn't held back about how much I hope I go to Hell just to beat the fuck outta Reagan.

I have not been able to stop thinking about this interaction and getting mad all over again, guys. Just mad that there are people like that in the world who would come up to anyone and start a theological debate when they aren't causing them a lick of harm. Someone who don't know shit about shit but wants to try and tell me what I should prioritize. People like this are running our country and making up our laws.

We were, like, the biggest mistake.

#long post #anya says shit #if you're reading this and think you have a good defense for her #you really don't so hush #if you think like this person go ahead and unfollow me because I am already praying your downfall #religion #i know it's not all christians #but yall need to come collect your damn trash

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blondedemon · 3 years

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i'm bored and in a writing mood so here's a short story. i wrote it in a sudden inspiration for with zero editing so i apologise if it's terrible lol

and i'm not gonna hide it under a 'keep reading' y'all gonna have to scroll

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There was a child sitting in the deep, bottom corner of her father's garden. The leaf litter was damp and mulching beneath her hands. Countless worms appeared whenever she dug her fingers into the soft soil. A ladybug crept across the thick pumpkin leaves that surrounded her, and there was a line of ants marching over the toes of her bare feet as they made their way home. The world was alive, alive, alive and she was lost in it.

Three small cupcakes sat with her in the dirt before her.

This was a strange sort of child. The type that adults loved to talk about, but never to. Her eyes were always fixed on some distant point on the horizon, or far nearer, on the ground right in front of her nose. But she would rarely meet the eye of someone who tried to address her. This sort of behaviour tends to put people on edge. Adults are discomfited by the feeling that a child might see more than they do. They encounter a child such as this and chatter behind her back; always off with the fairies and she just doesn't focus, that one and I'd really rather my girl doesn't play with her, she seems a poor influence.

The girl hears every word. And understands them all, even if they'd never credit her for it.

She doesn't feel strange. It was just a label attached to the outer edges of her by faces and voices that couldn't see all the way in. The girl was always seeing deeper than they were. It seemed pointless to talk to the giggling, empty children in her class when there were such better friends to be made elsewhere. Her dad would drop her at the gates with a kiss to her forehead and concern wrinkling his own. She would sit through classes, staring at walls and colouring her fingernails in with textas and graphite as her teachers asked her to write about her weekend. Art time was filled with sheets covered in horses and fairies and secret creatures that stared back at her from deep within the leaf litter. Her addition and subtraction equations would blur and muddle with all the numbers fighting and talking to and laughing with each other. Her stories were full of girls being carried away by strange creatures until they were so far from the reaches of anyone who could watch them. Far from anyone who wouldn't understand what she could see.

She had given up on telling people about her friends long ago.

But now, in the dying daylight, they crawled to her. Out of the leaves and soil and branches and rotting wood, their eyes bright and their scales glittering. They clicked as they approached, little noises in the depths of their throats. Heads cocked to the sides as they regarded her, claws digging little marks into the earth beneath their feet. And the girl stayed ever so still. Not even a lock of her hair would dare move in the wind as she waited for them to come nearer. Each one was perhaps only as long as her forearm, and of course, that wasn't very long at all. Their teeth were little daggers hidden behind scaly lips, only visible when they hissed at each other as they tripped over their own feet. She had no reason to fear them. They would never hurt her.

There were two dozen in all. She'd counted them. It was far more than there had been the first time. She'd been crawling in the pumpkin patch looking for pillbugs to put in her bright plastic bucket when she'd stepped on one. Her father had warned her about snakes, slim monsters with fangs that would stop your heart before you noticed they'd bitten you. And so when she felt those scales under her toes and saw that hard-plated body disappear into the twisting vines, her stomach had dropped.

But no snake had legs, did it? Lizards did, though. And dragons.

Her feet had been noticeably free of any vampire-like pinprick wounds, even through all the mud, and so she'd figured she probably wasn't about to die. So she sat herself down under a leaf, huddled down real small, and tried to peek under the next plant to see if she could find thecreature she'd accosted. Two sharp-yellow, slit-pupiled eyes had stared back. And promptly disappeared like a blink when the creature whipped around and disappeared into the dense plants. The girl was unfazed. She sat there for hours until her dad called her all worried-like from the house, calling her in for dinner.

She didn't see the creature again that night. Nor did her father see her until morning. When she crashed into the house, hours and hours and hours later and told her of her brief encounter, her dad had shouted at her for disappearing so long. He cried that he'd been worried sick. He yelled that he'd had to call the police. She didn't understand. She'd been safe, after all. What did it matter that he hadn't known exactly where she was? She'd never left the yard, he had nothing to be concerned about.

She didn't mention her creature again, but her father saw less and less of her that month. She would disappear into the yard with punnets of strawberries or chicken bones from the night before or little cakes that had been brought by classmates celebrating their birthdays, and she would place these in front of her in the dirt in that same spot and wait. Some things worked better than others. Especially the sweeter things. She could tell it was working when the leaves would rustle more aggressively near the ground, as if something was creeping amongst them.

It was a long, long while before she saw anything real again, though.

Her eyes were half closed when it happened. A slice of sweet banana bread lay amongst the leaves before her, and in an instant, it was gone.

There was a lot of banana bread baked in that second month. Her father could hardly believe how much his kid seemed to love it.

The girl learned how to stay so very still. If she got very quiet and convinced herself she was nothing but a rock lying in the garden, she could sit for hours without so much as licking her lips or wriggling her toes. And the banana bread didn't disappear every day. Sometimes the girl ended up eating it, dirt and all, running back inside to curl at her father's feet while he watched television, men running across the screen and kicking small pixellated balls across the grass. But sometimes, she would watch as a clawed paw would stretch out from behind the cover of a low-hanging, broad pumpkin leaf, and snatch the bread from before her eyes.

That was very often followed by concerning but contented growling from the pumpkins. And very enthusiastic chomping noises.

Slowly, the creature grew more confident, and the girl grew more sure that this was no animal her father had told her about, or that showed up in the encyclopaedias that lined the shelves of her school library. Curved claws smoothed into dense, haunched legs. There was a tail that tapered to a whip-thin point at the end, and front legs that could either hold the animal on all fours or stretch up to reach whatever it wanted to grab. It had a stout nose and a broad face with wide, wide eyes that were set under a scaled brow. A row of gentle spines tracing up its nose and between its surprisingly soft-looking ears.

And the entire thing was covered in plated scales in gradients of black and brown and white to create the most striking pattern she'd seen, a spiralling stripy design that bent the light around it and hid it even more convincingly in the shadows of the pumpkin patch.

She didn't breathe the first time she saw it in full. Its yellow eyes were watching her, unblinking, as she watched it back with an equally immobile gaze. It reached forward and clutched her banana bread to its chest and held her gaze for a second before disappearing into the dark again. In her mind, the girl called out to it. But of course she did not say anything. She had to be still, so very still

Now there were so, so many, and they were all over her. One was curled in the arch of her crossed legs, its side rising and falling gently with its sleepy breaths. Its skin was cold when it pressed against her, because it was nearly dark after all, and these creatures didn't make much of ther own heat. Most of them were battling over the thin pickings she'd left for them, because she simply couldn't bring enough cake to feed all of them anymore. Her father had been suspicious enough when she'd been taking banana bread just for one, but now she was catering for a whole army.

Her first dragon was the last to emerge. It stared at her from a distance, and then blinked slowly, slowly, slowly. The girl didn't move. Except for her slow blink in return. And the creature padded over to her, pressing its nose into her side ever so gently.

The girl moved then, and only then. She reached toward her dragon and cupped her hands under its soft belly, lifting its small body to her own. She felt it put its head on her shoulder and she hugged it to her chest, and she was home.

#writing #short story #my work #dragons #writeblr #home #gonna add a bunch of tags just to see if anyone will actually read my junk haha #but seriously I'm three hours from home at the moment and have been pretty much alone most of the week and i'm BORED

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id-never-letyoudown · 4 years

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No one asked but I'm info dumping about Ambrose and u can ignore if u want. This will be long and readmores don't work on mobile anymore, thx staff

Ambrose!!! Is a unicorn. Yes he can shapeshift.

He was raised by centaurs when he was found as a child. No one knows how he came to be in the forest surrounding their territory, aside from him. And you're not getting it out of him but I'm a bitch so I'll tell y'all.

Everyone in his family was a unicorn. And in this world it was seen as a blessing to have one simply pass through. They were revered. Seen as symbols of peace and purity. They also granted wishes. Which is why many were often accosted or captured. But they only granted true wishes to those pure of heart.

Of course, that was twisted into the idea of pure as in never wed or bedded. Because of course it was.

If someone impure asked for a wish and it was granted there was always a catch. It always backfired.

Ambrose's father was out gathering when the King's men spotted him. He was summoned to the throne room later that day. Ambrose's mother didn't like the idea, but knew they had little choice if they wanted to pass through peacefully. And with another one on the way they couldn't chance making the king turn sour.

So he went. The king had his daughter make a wish. For their crops to fill the bellies of all their people. He took one look at the princess and knew. She was a wicked one. "I will not. Your majesty, you know as well as I the consequences of granting a wish to one so tainted and foul." Of course, the king took this as an attack "Are you saying my daughter is no purer than a common whore?" "I don't know when you humans twisted our words to such a definition, but I do know it's ridiculous." "Grant the wish, and we'll see who speaks truth."

So he did. And he convinced his family to start moving out of the kingdom's territory.

Their crops did indeed fill the bellies of their people, but only those who were left after the plague that swept through them.

They were found, what some weeks later. The king did not care if he was stepping into another's territory. He would not be made a fool-which is why he also locked away his own daughter, even if she were wicked, starving is a cruel fate. Her handmaidens didn't think it was cruel enough. He killed everyone save for two. Ambrose, who they had hidden. And his mother. Who the King would take for a wife.

Ambrose doesn't know what happened to his unborn sibling, but he heard tales of the unicorn queen who died of heartache.

The herd kept moving and he wasn't permitted to stray too far from them. So he never got to hear about the King and his horned heir. Thankfully the king is long dead now. But Ambrose's sibling is still out there

The herd treated Ambrose like a delicate thing. They set so many standards for him that he couldn't breathe. "A unicorn should-" "Unicorns don't-" "Unicorns are all pure-" and he got sick of it as he grew. He had no control. And he craved it.

First it started small. Breaking curfew. Sneaking off to have fun with the centaurs his age. Then fooling around right under the elder's nose. Going into human towns. Even bringing things back.

Eventually he just left the herd altogether. And he's been traveling around ever since. Recently he's been sticking to non-human towns and he's made quite a name for himself. Celebrity levels.

If he wants something, he'll try to get it. He's been told what to do for so long that the idea of it now makes him sour.

#oc stuff #muse.ambrose #ambrose

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hope-for-olicity · 5 years

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Crushing the romance stigma once and for all Romance novel sales tally in the billions of dollars every year. (That's right: billions. With a "b".) And still, literary critics and other various bookish snobs continue to malign the genre, loudly and with great disdain. Why is that? If you ask these folks, they'll tell you romance novels are nothing but badly written trash. So, y'all have read a bunch of romance novels before forming that opinion, I assume? Oh, no, they'll say, noses tipped heavenward. They don't read romance (with all the contempt in the world placed on the word "romance"). Huh. Now I'm confused. Why would people be so openly hostile to a genre they've never read? I think I can tell you why.The romance stigma and genre misconceptions are so deeply ingrained in us as a society that we have trouble overlooking them, even with glaring examples to the contrary. Heck, even bestselling romance authors like Nicholas Sparks hesitate to admit they write romance. Mr. Sparks insists that he writes “love stories”. On his website, Sparks lays out the difference between “love stories” and romance as follows: “It’s equivalent to the difference between a "legal thriller" and a "techno-thriller." In that instance, both novels include many of the same elements: suspense, good and bad forces pitted against each other, scenes that build to a major plot point, etc. But aside from the obvious, those novels are in different sub-genres and the sub-genres have different requirements. For instance, legal thrillers generally have a court room scene on center stage, techno-thrillers use the world or a city as their setting. Legal thrillers explore the nuances of law, techno-thrillers explore the nuances of scientific or military conflict. The same situation applies with romance novels and love stories. Though both have romantic elements, the sub-genres have different requirements. Love stories must use universal characters and settings. Romance novels are not bound by this requirement and characters can be rich, famous, or people who lived centuries ago, and the settings can be exotic. Love stories can differ in theme, romance novels have a general theme—‘the taming of a man.’ And finally, romance novels usually have happy endings while love stories are not bound by this requirement. Love stories usually end tragically or, at best, on a bittersweet note.” I’m sorry, no disrespect intended, but if you’ve written a story in which the romantic relationship between two characters is the focus, you’ve written a romance novel, Mr. Sparks. The rest is just splitting hairs and can probably be construed as you protesting a bit too much. Throwing in a depressing ending doesn’t completely excuse you from the genre. Sorry. So, let’s take a look at the most common romance complaints and see if there’s actually anything to them: Romance novels are badly written I don’t know if y’all picked up on the implied “all” in that sentence, but I sure did. I don’t know of any genre outside of romance where people feel comfortable saying “all” of it is badly written. Are there some stinkers in the bunch? Absolutely. But I’ve also read plenty of stinkers in the sci fi, horror and mystery genres. I suppose my response to critics who say romance novels are badly written would be: have you read all romance novels? No? Well…there you go. And further...if they’re so badly written, why are they selling so well? Romance novels are formulaic I suppose this might depend on how broadly you define “formula”. For example: 1 person + 1 person = love and happiness Is that how a formula is defined? Because if that’s the definition, it could be argued that romance novels are formulaic. It is a somewhat unspoken “rule” that romance novels end with a HEA (happily ever after). But in my opinion, there’s A LOT that can happen in the middle of that particular formula, and there’s about a gazillion ways that particular equation can be worked out. I’ve read romance novels about everyday people with typical problems, and I’ve read romance novels about vampires and witches and angels. All the lovely variations in which the “formula” can be worked out and twisted about sure can make for some entertaining reading. Romance novels are predictable Again with the implied “all”. Sigh. I’m pretty hard to surprise. I knew that Darth Vadar was Luke’s father well before Luke did. I knew that one of the dead people Haley Joel Osment was seeing was Bruce Willis way before Bruce Willis knew. I knew what was going on at The Red Wedding well before Talisa took that knife to the gut. But I can honestly say that more than a few romance authors have managed to throw me for a loop with their plot gymnastics. (I’m looking at you, J.A. Redmerski!) So, are there some predictable romances out there? Sure. Can it be argued that the HEA is predictable? Absolutely. But to those still arguing this point, I have to ask: is your enjoyment of a book dependent on your inability to predict the story’s ultimate direction? Even if you know where the story will end up, can you not just enjoy the ebb and flow of the story, the writer’s word choices, the snap of the dialog and crackling chemistry between characters? If not...well, that’s kind of sad! Why bother reading at all if that’s the case? There’s no plot; it’s all just about sex This is another one of those all-inclusive statements that should just be ignored. Are there some romance novels that are all about sex? Sure. And there are plenty of others that are intricately plotted (author Tarryn Fisher comes immediately to mind here) and meticulously researched. Beyond that, there’s even an entire subcategory of sweet and clean romances (even some Amish romances) that don’t contain any sex at all. Lesson to be learned here: As a rule, “all” and “never” statements are crap. “Real” writers don’t write romance Who gets to define what a “real” writer is? Was there some kind of specially appointed task force for this that I wasn’t aware of? As it turns out, writing is an art. So, just like any other art form, opinions on what is “good” and what is “real” will tend to vary greatly. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, and there are no wrong answers. And just for the record, Jane Austen wrote romance novels. Anyone care to tell her—and her legions of rabid fans—that she wasn’t a real writer? No? Didn’t think so. Romance novels are unrealistic The “unrealistic” criticism usually exists in a couple of different forms: 1. The heroes and heroines are all perfect looking It’s true that as a society, we like pretty stuff. For that reason, you will find an abundance of pretty, seemingly perfect people in romance novels (especially on the covers). But, you’ll also find plenty of people who don’t fit into a perfect Barbie-and-Ken mold. I’ve read romances about a paraplegic hero, a heroine with CP, and a heroine so unattractive the hero is uncomfortable around her until he gets to know and love her. 2. HEAs don’t happen in real life You know who doesn’t believe in HEAs? Unhappy people. It’s true that no one is happy all the time, but to assume that no one ever gets a HEA is insane. There’s plenty of happiness out there for those who are willing to reach for it. And on a less philosophical note, I think romance readers generally understand that “HEA” is just a phrase. No one assumes that the main couple in the story continued to live out their lives without ever having another care in the world. The HEA is just where the story ends. Romance novels are just “bodice rippers” This one stems from a trend in the 70s and 80s that had innocent virgins (mostly in historical novels) on book covers being accosted by burly, half-dressed dudes (often Fabio) who were pretty much forcing themselves on them. Much like clothing and hairstyles, romance novel trends have also changed quite a bit since the 70s and 80s. For anyone who believes that all romance novels are “bodice rippers”, I encourage you to change out of your velour leisure suit, shut off your 8-track player and lava lamp, and venture to your local bookstore’s romance section. You’re in for a big surprise. Romance novels promote abusive relationships I’ll let you in on a little secret, folks. (Come closer…wouldn’t want this one getting out to just anyone) Women sometimes fantasize about being overpowered by a man. It’s a pretty standard fantasy, actually. Some dude (who looks like Thor or Wolverine) overcomes all of her good-girl protests and better judgement with nothing more than the raw animal power of his overwhelming manly hotness. No consequences, no one gets hurt. Does reading about such a fantasy make women prone to asking their husband/partner/lover to abuse and overpower them on a regular basis? No more so than reading To Kill a Mockingbird makes people prone to becoming lawyers, or reading The Bourne Identity makes people prone to amnesia. Typically, readers are capable of distinguishing between fantasy and reality. Critics who spew drivel about romance novels promoting abuse against women seem to think otherwise, though. And further, as I’ve mentioned before, I’ve read a lot of romance novels. A. Lot. The portion of those novels that featured a man overpowering a woman amounts to maybe 2% of the total. It’s hardly fair to assume that all romance novels—or even a majority of romance novels, for that matter--promote that kind of relationship. It’s just “mommy porn” Sorry, but it’s just not statistically possible that all of the billions of dollars’ worth of romances sold each year were read by mommies. Women and men (yes, men read romance, too) of all ages enjoy romances. This statement is just a desperate attempt by critics to shame readers into buying the types of books theythink everyone should be reading. It’s like trying to convince people they should be watching PBS all the time. PBS is a great channel, but sometimes, you need a little HBO. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Anyone who tells you otherwise is just an egocentric bully trying to promote his/her own agenda. Romance novels are silly fluff I’m not going to argue that romance novels are doing their part to cure cancer or end world hunger. (And truthfully, neither are any novels) Some romances are about light subject matter, and others cover much deeper topics such as the grief of losing a spouse, kidnapping and child abuse, murder and even survival in a post-apocalyptic world. And those are just a few examples of the not-so-silly-fluffy topics you can find in romance novels today. There’s plenty more where those came from. Long-story-short, it would appear that nothing is wrong with the romance genre that isn’t also a problem for any other genre, other than what ignorant critics think of it. So, what can romance lovers do to help crush the romance stigma once and for all? Well, the first step is to admit, out loud and to anyone who asks, that you love romance novels. No more sheepishness. No more hiding your romance novels in speculative fiction dust jackets. No more refusing to let anyone see your Amazon browsing history or your Kindle’s contents. Be PROUD of what you read. The second step is to promote the books you read that help crush these myths. That’s what we’ll be doing here at Romance Rehab. What about all of you proud romance readers out there? What other romance misconceptions piss you off? Let’s talk.

#romance novels

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seenashwrite · 6 years

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Conversations With The Commissioner: Crappy Monsters In Barber Shops, a.k.a. Nash's First Headcanon + Wine = The Image I’ll Never Be Able To Top

@lipstickandwhiskey kindly thought to tag me when she saw a jovial post that reminded her of my disappointment in the lack of dinosaurs in the *alternate world and hoped to cheer me, but little did she know [mainly because I completely brain farted on posting this way-back-when] this had been addressed. In an objectively bizarre way. Admittedly.

FYI: Spit-take warning in effect, also cursing, should you choose to carry on

Preamble

* Dear SPN Writers' Room*: I'm not calling it The Bad Place, because I'm done with y'all ripping from other stuff, in this case, a beyond phenomenal show - hey! you do recognize carefully crafted season arcs when you see it! - even if y'all thought it was a homage, it's not since viewers of the show "The Good Place" already know about The Bad Place and it's not a physical nightmare, it's a psychological nightmare.

Pay. Attention. Stop ripping from well-known pop culture shit without (1) making sure the “homage” is used correctly, (2) double-checking that something similar hasn't been done before and, if so, (3) adding your own cheeky-sneaky spin. Not doing so makes you look, at best, like hacks, at worst, like doofy dipshits, particularly when it is from shows in your same genre - like a renowned show from the same fucking network that hadn't even ended their run but a year and a half prior to when yours started - and wrapping up *your* season with a title that was an iconic element from an iconic show [it was iconic, for several reasons, that's an essay for another time] which was the basis for everything from a/possibly *the* pivotal moment in the series and which was tied to many of the composer's pieces for the soundtrack, as it was a central thread. TV Tropes is your friend.

Tangentially related, while we're here:

[Shep as Romo Lampkin]

I digress.

The Background

The Commissioner and I pop a cork, start talking about the Wayward pilot. We don't say a word about the scripting or the acting [because if we do, I go down a Dolly Deadeyes road, and nobody wants that]. Rather, we do a deep dive on the things that resemble other things and postulate how this came to be. Not in the minds of the peeps behind it, no, the dive comes via what the youths call a "headcanon". I've never had one before, I don't think, and I'm proud this is the first.

Oh, and a housekeeping side note: While my observations/the conversing began that night, the main convo/legit start on the image at the bottom happened later on. This has been run through the Nash snark filter for funsies, which is why the tone is the same for the whole conversation as, in truth, I have little clear memory of a lot of this, and the time taken for the assemblage of the image took longer than a conversation's worth, since the beginnings were sponsored by wine but it had to be done, it's how I combat insomnia and after seeing the monsters, I needed to purge my feelings of.... well....

The Beginning

After a verbal review (an accosting-of, really) of both Well-Coiffed Predator in a Bane Mask and Dollar Store Doomsday from the Wayward pilot, we begin discussing theories on how exactly this came to be in the alt world. Everything below is based on (a) the fact that New!Kaia's outfit denotes the presence of some sort of killa shopping and/or a hella talented Matrix-obsessed seamstress in the alt-world, therefore why not additional styling like a salon, and (b) the fact that we were lit on wine.

And the Predator rip - who, in the concept art, does not appear rippy-offy, it should be noted - got that mask somehow. He's either homaging Bane all over his face [his own face, not the other-way-'round] or he's gotten hold of one of the real things, modded it a touch to account for the spread of his general mouth region. Seems their temp name is the generic supernatural/folklore catch-all that I was vaguely aware of - "Canid" - and that some dude who's apparently of import on the show hates it, and I concur because all I can think of when I see the name is Candida. The Commissioner asked for a reminder, and I explained what that infection was and that now upon learning the creature’s name, I looked upon it as a yeast infection made sentient. The copious amounts of viscous discharge helps that along.

This then got a general science light bulb to pop, and we again consulted the googles, and boo-yah:

It's a dog. That. That up there, that I linked to. A daaaawwwwg.

No, not a if-this-is-a-dog-then-what-does-the-owner-look-like, maybe-they're-just-disgruntled-puppy-mill-alums type of WTF. The WTF is because I, once again, am wondering if at any point people over yonder are bothering to check shit out with this cool new thing called google. I know. It's a novel suggestion.

Somebody sure as shit used said googlins for squid beak - it's a touch birdy beak, but nah, slimy squid goes better with the aesthetic - and I guess they had to, as they already gave the far superior on the creepy scale pacu teeth to the Dollar Store Doomsday.

Because we were sneery and feeling gross at this point, we needed something fun, so we refilled on wine, and decided to make a mash-up image of the “inspirations” [to be clear: The Commissioner decided I should make a mash-up]. We were also feeling gross after looking at all that above, so for an eye sorbet, we needed some pretty, and STAT. We both instantly knew what would do the trick.

We start the conversation with Bane.

The Conversation

[looking at still from that Batman movie Bane was in; neither of us have cared to clarify which of the Nolan B-mans it was, because we don't care]

The Commissioner: He is so smooth, like, everything, even the fit of the clothes.

Nash: I'll never forget his turn as young Picard in that shit 'Trek movie, what was it called?

[we do not look it up; digression discussion of the awesomeness that is Sir Patrick Stewart]

TC: What's in his hand? Is that a riding crop? Or a shuffleboard thing?

N: Yes, exactly, Bane took a break from beating up Batman to shuffle. Nooooo. He got drug away from riding his horsey----

TC: YOU MUST MEAN HIS STALLION - if he rides horses, they are buff

N: ---to bring the mask, and is he pissed about it?

TC: No. No, because he is a dollbaby - he loves dogs.

N: You're mixing Tom Hardy with Bane.

TC: NO.

N: [realizing] BECAUSE THAT IS A DOG THING, THAT CREATURE IS DOG

[digression googles to look at pics/vids of Tom Hardy with pups]

N: Oh, no, wait - can we make it a putter? Like he was on his way to golf?

TC: But he still doesn't mind, because he's good guy Bane? And golf sucks? Oh hell yes.

[putter image sought; we go back to staring at Hardy, sip wine for untold moments]

N: And Preddie's all - Oh Bane, no! I couldn't possibly! Aren't these custom made? But he's gripping the shit out of it, like, pry it from my hands, bitches.

TC: And he takes a sniff when nobody's looking and swoons. *SWOONS*

N: Freaked-out stylist saw, though, and a touch of pee slips out, because it was weird before, but now shit's kicked off.

TC: Oh, she's already wet her pants at least once, absolutely. Do we need to add her?

N: No, she's in the bathroom.

TC: But you know who we should add.

[Image of 1990s Leonardo Di Caprio is immediately sought; we love the R+J still too much for words and select it with zero pause]

N: But why?

TC: You know he's gonna end up bopping around to other worlds anyhow, and for Bane to be here, there must be other rifts----

N: Low-Sugar Low-Fat Low-Calorie Eye of Saurons?

TC: ----so they're babysitting.

N: THIS MAKES SO MUCH SENSE [gulp of wine] Hey, you know who should be his foster parents if he’s bopping around to all points?

TC: Is it some side-character who's off-show at the moment? So we can get the show back to, um, Sam and Dean?

N: Chuck and Amara.

TC: You remember they're brother and sister, right?

N: [side-eye] Okay.

TC: They are. It's canon.

N: OKAAAY. [stares at Leo] Alright, what are we having him do? Satan's crotch goblin?

TC: [possibly disgusted with me] Pencils.

N: YES I KNOW WHAT TO DO they need to keep him busy so they just keep giving him piles of pencils to sharpen, and he's distressed because there's no more and the sharpener’s motor burnt out.

TC: [touch of a spit take]

[we stare at the collection of images; it is a bitch to find a clear shot of a Pred sitting, but we need him in a barber chair; I will ultimately cobble it from three separate images; it was worth every goddamn minute]

TC: Okay, now what about that thing? The thing? Deadpool?

N: No he was something else, that's Reynolds. Deadshot? Wait, hang on.

[we watch the Bob Ross Deadpool thing, maybe twice, I have no idea]

TC: What'd you say?

N: I dunno.

TC: Me neither I just remember thinking you were wrong.

N: [looks it up, or we'll be here all week] DOOMSDAY

TC: Stop, stop, stop - didn't we also say Lord of the Rings cave troll?

N: I can't remember if it was me or somebody else.

TC: Do cave troll.

[we search]

N: Holy shit. He's in the club.

[image chosen; best one is of him pointing; I later add the touch of a framed photo of King Kong that's inexplicably hanging in the barber shop, also next to it a photo of Captain Shitty Render]

N: But Doomsday.

TC: Do it.

[image chosen; this was also a bitch, I had to blur and cobble and blend and hide part of his bottom half because ZACK SNYDER LOVES SHOOTING EVERYTHING LIKE WE'RE IN A DANK CAVE]

N: They're so glad Bane pulls through, because Preddy won't shut the fuck up about him.

TC: It's because his last boyfriend was garbage, keeps hanging out with humans, and Bane's loyal, like he was to that chick from Inception, like----

N: LIKE DOG

[the bottle is empty; we are sleepy]

The Results

I regret not adding an aquarium with a squid.

The Aftermath

Both TC and my Tumblr wife @butiaintgonnaloveem had reactions that can nicely tuck under the umbrella of [in concerned tone] Nash are you okay, like, is life beating you down somehow, this is crazypants which I appreciate from the latter, but as for the former I pointed out that they are my enabler/dealer/peer-pressurer in every bit of this.

There is no end to this post.

#Nash Shares #Conversations with The Commissioner #dollar store Doomsday #discount 90s Leo DiCaprio #well-coiffed Predator in a Bane mask #poorly rendered #rip-offs #do better #pseudo-art #Wayward Sisters pilot #wine-induced head canons #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days

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shirtlesssammy · 6 years

Text

13x11: Breakdown

Then:

You Betcha, Donna is the best! And you betcha, Sam watching Dean getting turned into a vampire is the worst!

Now:

Cue creepy oldies music, jars of liquids of unknown origin, murder board, chains!, and one gnawed on tasty arm. What?

In Oshkosh, Nebraska (real place, they don’t make cute kids’ dungarees though) at Manny’s Truck Stop, a socially conscience young woman pulls up to get gas. Her card is declined so she heads into the diner to find out what’s what.

(omg, her card wasn’t really declined!) Creepy register guy wants Ms. Hanscum to smile more and we all want him to die more. (I am 1000% behind making creepy white men the ultimate villains this season. Who are you Supernatural?) Ms. Hanscum gets her gas, and notices a ‘Jesus Saves’ van and a semi-truck in the parking lot. She’s suddenly accosted by a window washer dude but declines his creepy offer and takes off in her car.

Breakdown!

Some time later, her car gets a flat tire. Boris is screaming for her to just change the tire herself (didn’t everyone’s father make them change their car’s tires for funsies when they first got a car?) She watches as a semi-truck barrels past and then is brutally attacked and kidnapped by an unknown assailant (cough MAN cough) in a mask.

Sam is Depressed and I Need all the Details and Meta and well Developed Storylines on This Situation

At the bunker, it’s 6:00 am and Sam is wide awake. It’s 8:22 am and Sam is STILL wide awake. Dean’s making pancakes but Sam ignores him. It’s 10:00 am and his phone rings. It’s Donna. He heads to the kitchen to take a bit of shit from Dean before they’re both informed by Donna that her niece is missing and she could really use their help. “Text us the address, we’re on our way.” DONNA. DEAN.

The boys meet up with Donna --and I LOVE how they visually show Donna’s headspace here. She’s waiting for the Winchesters and the camera pans over to the Impala pulling up, but we can’t hear the familiar rumble. SO great. She’s panicked, and in her head completely.

She fills the boys in on what’s happened. Dean heads into talk with the locals and Doug.

While looking over Donna’s niece’s car, Dean is accosted by FBI dude. He calls Dean “son” in the most condescending way. Dean’s too old to be “son” and Dean is confident in himself enough to not take that shit. Good job, Dean! Doug interrupts the potential smackdown and tells Agent Clegg that Dean is FBI too. He’s here on personal reasons though; relative to the missing woman. (Boris, and countless other people on Tumblr, called Agent Clegg as The Monster right here. Creepy White Man.) Doug is shocked to learn that Donna and Dean are related. “So you were in Sioux Falls a couple weeks ago, at the family reunion?” Yes. Yes they were. Family reunion. Yes.

Clegg fills the gang in on the case, and the series of connected cases he’s been working for 12 years. *Kill Bill Siren*

Depressed!Sam doesn’t want to help. Dean says, “We’re in.” Sam Bean!!!

At their motel, Dean puts out a call of local truckers for info on Donna’s niece, Wendy. Sam wants to back down. They are fugitives after all. Aggghhh. I’m SO HERE FOR SAM’S GRIEF. Like, I can’t articulate well enough what’s actually happening, but it’s so nice to FINALLY see him expressing the pain that he’s going through. He’s a perpetual fountain of optimism to Dean’s downer attitude. Or he’s just countering how Dean feels (see: Tombstone where he was meh towards Dean’s Very Enthusiastic Attitude to Cas’s return). He expresses this later but his hope is gone now. No Jack, no Kaia --no getting his mom back. As much as we wanted and needed (and got) a cathartic scene between Dean and Mary, we need Sam to come to terms with never having a mother at all. AGGGGHHHH. Dean tough talks his point of the situation before they get a lead from a CB radio trucker. Dean makes a date with ‘Felix’ to learn more about the case.

Cue oldies music, Wendy blindfolded and tied to a chair, and creepy masked man. He unmasks her and she begs “Why are you doing this?” while he sets up a camera.

At the police station, Agent Clegg fills Sam and Donna in on the ‘Butterfly’ case, and his main suspect: Pastor ‘Diamond’ Don Hankey. Creepo had Wendy’s bloodied t-shirt in his van.

Dean talks to the trucker about the night Wendy disappeared.

Felix remembers seeing Wendy, and really regrets not helping her, but she was running behind.

Sam and Agent Clegg interview the pastor. The smug fucker gives them nothing. Oh, and he’s an implied racist. Donna comes in to lend a hand.

At Manny’s Trunk Stop, Dean and Doug have a heart to heart. Dean’s giving relationship advice? Waaaahhhh.

Donna continues to lay the smackdown on dirty pastor man.

At the truck stop, window washer man fills Dean and Doug in on Marlon, the cashier, and how he closed up shop and followed Wendy that night.

Ugh, the pastor is married with two kids? Ugh. Donna breaks the pastor, but it turns out he’s just a regular creepy man. (So many layers of creepy men these days, ugh) Sam, Donna, and Agent Clegg wonder, if not the pastor, then who?

Cut to Dean entering the diner and asking Marlon where Wendy is.

Marlon’s being difficult, but Dean’s insistent. Marlon caves and shows them a website. A website where monsters bid on human body parts. Lovely!

A little while later the team's assembled to rewatch the video for clues. The creepy clerk shows Donna and Sam the recording of the feed and they try to twist their minds around what's happening. They realize that body parts are getting auctioned off to monsters. MONSTERS? Doug's taken aback by the theory – particularly the monsters part.

The clerk reveals that he flags people he thinks won't be missed, notifies the sellers, and then gets paid. While he's chatting a new bid flashes on screen. It's Wendy! She begs for help. Dean asks Sam if he can hack into the streaming server and find their location but Sam explains that the signal's bounced around the TOR network and he can't track it. However, the FBI can so they contact Clegg for help. We shed a silent tear thinking about Charlie, who could probably hack it with her eyes closed. They've got a timer, anyway. In 58 minutes Wendy dies.

Off to the side Donna has “The Talk” with Doug and he's...rattled. She explains that Sam and Dean are hunters...and so is she. Doug struggles to process the news. Their talk's interrupted by the news that Clegg's tracked the video feed.

They spread out to tackle the winding layout of the warehouse. Doug stays behind with the clerk while Dean and Donna advance. In the back, Sam gets surprised by Clegg who has shown up to investigate this tale of a body-parts-selling website.

Wendy's strung up with the feed still on her. The killer slowly sharpens his blade while she screams.

Dean and Donna hear music playing and track it to a room that's empty other than a radio on the floor. Uh oh. Back with Doug, the clerk asks him about monsters. “Fun fact,” he says. “I am one.” He vamps out, busts out of his cuffs, and starts to attack Doug. He tears open his wrist with his teeth and drips the blood into Doug's mouth.

Sam overhears the attack and signals to Clegg to advance on the room when... Clegg knocks him out! Boris was right, y'all. Boris was right all along. Clegg is evil.

Dean and Donna bust into the room where Doug's lying on the floor. He turns to Donna. He's feeling...kinda strange. He vamps out in front of her. “I'm so hungry,” he whimpers before trying to bite her. Dean pulls some dead man's blood from his duffle and injects Doug with it, knocking him out. Dean tells Donna that he'll be okay. There's a cure. “Huh?” Donna asks and I'm knocking my palm against my hand. The woman specializes in vampire kills and you never bothered to tell her about dead man's blood or the CURE? What the heck, Deano?

Anyway, “Mix up some sage, a little bit of garlic...” And the bloodsucker who turned Doug. The clerk swans in and brags about the attack and reveals that Clegg is behind the kidnapping!

Dean unsheaths his machete with a “bring it, Twilight” when Donna shoots the clerk in the knee. He collapses to the floor. Donna orders Dean to start mixing the cure for Doug and tells the clerk that she's gonna kill him no matter what. “You just gotta decide if you want it fast...or slow.” Donna <3 <3 <3

Sam wakes up tied to an operating table and realizes that Clegg's The Butterfly killer. Clegg tells Sam that there are monsters all over who take advantage of his people-chopping services. Clegg's of the mind that Sam should be grateful for his services...keeping monsters off the streets and all.

Sam's not buying it, but it's time for their next video feed. (Wendy's been put on hold in favor of their BIG catch.)

Dean, Donna, and Doug race to save Sam. Donna pours the vamp cure into Doug. Meanwhile, they start auctioning off Sam piece by piece. Clegg starts off the auction for Sam Winchester's heart in a not-at-all symbolic move.

Dean and Donna leave Doug behind in the car to infiltrate the warehouse. Donna finds Wendy still tied up. One of the killers attacks Donna from behind but Donna kicks his ass and kills him quickly. She frees Wendy.

Clegg's finished the auction for Sam's heart netting $500K (aw Sammy) for it so now it's time to chop him up. He points a gun at Sam to kill him quick since Dean's still in the wind. The camera pans away and there's a gunshot.

EEK

Red spreads along Clegg's chest. It's Dean here to save the day! He's killed Clegg and saved Sam. “Show's over.”

A little while later Dougie Bear wakes up. He's cured! Donna tells him that Wendy's safe...and so is Doug. But Doug's ultra freaked out about being a vampire. Donna smiles at him and tries to talk it down. Dean's been in Donna's shoes before and he recognizes the look on Doug's face. Doug tells Donna that she's a hero for killing monsters but he can't have any part of it. He walks out. (UGH don't mind me I'm just crying over here.)

Sam tells Donna that anyone who gets too close to a hunter gets hurt – or worse. Essentially, Donna should look at this as a good thing since Doug will be safer without her. Dean shoots Sam a LOOK.

Later in the car Dean tells Sam he was a little harsh. Sam explains that it’s just a fact that they get people killed. Kaia most recently, for one. Sam tells Dean he's not in “a mood” and that he's just being realistic. The hunting life ends one way for them – bloody.

You Betcha These Are Quotes:

I'm not your son.

And then you turn down pancakes!

This is how we do things in the FBI.

I'm not hurt but I don't think I'm okay.

There are many pieces of Sam Winchester, but only one heart.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn 13x11 #breakdown #spn picspam #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #donna hanscum #supernatural season 13

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boudiscanon · 7 years

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Northern versus Southern Family

So one half of my family is from Michigan and the other half of my family is from Arkansas. And since I've never met anyone who wasn't my cousin who also has a family this radically split between the Mason-Dixon line (bc mine is the ONLY SOUTHERN WHITE FAMILY IN TOWN) lemme show y'all the cultural whiplash that is family gatherings at the grandparents’ for me:

House Aesthetic

North: Immaculately clean, Great Grandma’s china untouched in a hutch, New carpet and/or couch and/or hardwood floors for the kitchen like every other goddamn year, plain crosses, family photo sitting on the mantle, place where large family portrait would normally go instead graced by painting of a wolverine signed by Bo Schembechler, lots of duck hunting motifs, also did I mention clean?,seriously one time my grandma randomly paid me like $20 to just clean the outside and inside of her kitchen cupboard doors for her???

South: Overrun with knick-knacks, tables specifically devoted to knick-knacks and setting up holiday cards from family and church people, photos of every single family member at every single stage of life, furniture all from 1960, textured wallpaper, cross stitchings about Jesus hanging up, “A house is made of bricks and stones but homes are made of love alone”, only cleaned when family is coming up to visit, and then more to make room for all 32549879 of them than to make it look nice, mattresses in every spare room for said 32549879 family members

Openness

North: NO ONE EVER TALKS ABOUT ANYTHING, I am 26 and this year I learned my grandpa has a sister??????, I thought he only had brothers, dirty laundry is not acknowledged in any way whatsoever, prying questions are limited to grandparents asking about what you’ve been up to and some light-hearted ragging over your love life

South: I know all of my Grandparent’s 1700 siblings by first and middle name, and the entire family history, going back to the legend of Great-Great Grandpa Panther Bill back in Bethel Springs, dirty laundry is spread out on the living room floor to sort through especially if it belongs to cousins who aren’t there, any random family member can and will come up to you and instead of saying hello start in with “so has your brother found a job yet? you got a man yet? when you gettin married already? so is your sister gay or what?” and there is no escape, hell you probably won’ even remember which cousin three times removed is accosting you

Food

North: all done by grandma, maybe with a salad brought by my mom, dishes shoved in the dishwasher after, everyone gets one (1) tupperware container to bring home, grandma constantly trying out new recipes and insisting they probably aren’t very good, meanwhile Gordan Ramsey himself would probably kiss her on the lips and hire her on the spot

South: Everyone conspires to stop grandma from doing any actually work much to her consternation, GFS does half the cooking bc you can pick up giant ass pans of scalloped potatoes there and just toss them in the oven, there are always at least two meat dishes two potato dishes three veggies some kind of fluff and some kind of salad brought by aunt lee, not to mention two-three pies and ice cream for dessert, everyone brings home at least one (1) paper grocery bag full of leftovers and fights over who has to bring home the most bc how did we end up with more leftovers than were actually on the table??????, dishes done by hand by moms while grandma tries to help and gets told to sit down and relax, and i cannot tell you how much i suffered growing up being the only kid who knew what hominy and okra were

Conversation

North: politics, current events, the Tigers, gossip about snooty neighbors or snooty church people

South: Jesus, the Lions, gossip about cousins, family stories you’ve heard 17 times but idk it’s tradition?

Thoughts on Death

North: no one mentions getting old or implies in anyway that they aren’t just as spry as they used to be because it give grandpa Anxiety

South: one time my grandma basically kidnapped me and one of my aunts to point out exactly who was to get what when she died, my aunt pointed to a mirror with a gold leaf forest scene on it and called dibs, grandparent constantly complained about joints but also refused to ever sit down ever, basically every conversation with them involved a I Went To The Doctor And He Said update

Religion

North: Reformed Church in America (Calvinist)

South: Assembly of God (Pentecostal)

Thoughts on technology

North: My grandma recently got a laptop and wifi, she answers emails by calling you back

South: Grandparents never figured out how to use their answering machine, had written instructions from us on how to operate their VCR (so they could watch Jackie Chan movies)

Biggest Drama To Date

North: we don’t have family reunions on that side anymore because at the last one (before I was born) two brothers got in a fist fight, got written out of great grandpa’s will and then when he died great grandma refused to write them back in

South: It’s a toss up between maybe one time my great grandpa trapped a man inside a house he then proceeded to burn to the ground, the time that same great grandpa sprayed my dad in the face with pesticide as a kid and almost killed him, and my dad currently being on non-speaking terms with literally the entire family bc he idolized said great grandpa and also grew up to be an abusive insufferable douchecanoe, oh and that one time the sheriff arrested a cousin and two other cousins dueled the sheriff and busted him out, (or, according to one aunt and uncle, the fact that I have not gotten married and pregnant yet)

Levels of Family Pride

North: you’re pretty much good so long as you hate the state of Ohio or disparage the Tigers

South: You are literally expected to fight to the death for even the cousins you haven’t met or Jesus himself will descend from the Heavens to Disown You and the lines between “family” and “cult” are kind of blurred sometimes tbh ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(Also as a side note because of the difference in accents I have absolutely no fucking idea how to say “pecan.”)

#ambramblings #north #south #this is why when I do that white people thing #where everybody says what percentage of european they are #i just say half dutch half southern #bc that explains way more about me #family #abuse tw

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topicprinter · 7 years

Link

Hi /r/entrepreneur, today I want to share the story of how I helped modernize the family business, and how I was wrong a ton of times along the way!Quick BackgroundTo start with - I'm a game developer first and foremost, but entrepreneurship is in my blood. Wanted to make games since I was 4 years old, and have been running my own company since high school. Made 3 games and lived to tell the story!But most importantly, I've always been interested in solving problems, which as entrepreneurs we tend to be attracted to against all odds. It all started last year, when I was in a meeting for something completely unrelated to all of that. I offhandedly mention that my dad is the "Crawfish Bread Man" -- if you have never been to New Orleans Jazz Fest, those words mean nothing. But if you have... let's just say it's kind of a religious experience.Crawfish Bread is a delicious concoction of bread, cheese, crawfish, spices and more - and you can only get it at the Jazz Fest two weekends per year. Nowhere else! And all of the recipes online don't even come close; people love the original thing, and with a passion.I mentioned this, and a normally quiet employee quite literally sprung up out of her chair and screamed, "YOU KNOW THE CRAWFISH BREAD MAN?!" The whole room was stunned. We didn't know this person was ever that excited, about anything, but here she was, screaming at me! At that moment, I realized something -- my dad's famous food, available only at the festival, probably has a market much bigger than it was currently reaching.I set out to try and connect the dots!To the Lab!From here, I talked with my dad about trying to set up a shipping operation. He had tried in the past and was unsuccessful, so he essentially told me "good luck" and said we could work on it.First, I'll go back to that game development bit -- I know nothing about physical businesses. My primary business is completely digital, and run remotely, so I quite literally have never been able to touch the things I sell. Now, I'd be shipping frozen food. OH GOD! I had to learn... A LOT.At first, we decided we wanted to stay away from dry ice. We knew it was regulated as a hazardous material, and given that this is a mom-and-pop kind of situation, we decided to try without it. What followed was multiple experiments over nearly a year with various thermal mailers, boxes, cold packs, and more... all failing.We thought it couldn't be done, and I was on the verge of giving up. I actually posted here in /r/entrepreneur for advice, and everyone gave me the good ol' internet slap in the face for not considering dry ice. Humbly, it came time to embrace what I thought was my enemy...... turns out it was the secret. I called UPS and asked what their regulations were for dry ice, and found out that the threshold for being labeled hazmat is pretty much only for air mail; we were focusing on Ground shipments. Woo!OK, so dry ice was a go. (One of the many times I was wrong in this story!) What now? I began researching different methods of packing and shipping. As it turns out, the wealth of information was vague, largely coming from blog posts years ago on weird websites, and didn't give me a clear nor concise view of what I had to do.We then took the fight back to the labs! My dad rigged up some boxes with styrofoam covers and cold packs, and some with dry ice, and we sent them back and forth through the mail under normal conditions. Eventually, we managed to get it working... sort of. The food arrived cold, but not frozen, and while we had made great progress, it still wasn't where we wanted to be. (Oh, and at this point, it was Louisiana summer - 90+ degrees daily...)Out of nowhere, he finds a different brand of cold packs that he wanted me to research. Looking them up, they had partnered with a thermal packaging company, which made us aware of some thermal boxes.Now, if you search "Thermal boxes" or "insulated shipping kits" you're gonna run into super expensive boxes that aren't worth the cost unless you're shipping organs (seriously!). We, of course, were not shipping organs. But, lo and behold, the company that the cold packs recommended offered pretty affordable boxes. Whoa! At wholesale prices they were under $15 and even cheaper in bulk.We ordered two sample boxes, tested them over the following two weeks with dry ice, and... BOOM! We got it. They went through the mail and got to me frozen solid. OH GOD WE DID IT!LaunchingFrom there, the complexities continued. We had the ability to put this delicious food in the mail and ensure it got there safely, but what about demand? As mentioned earlier, we had some pretty poignant examples that people loved this stuff. At Jazz Fest, people would sprint when the gates opened to be first in line. Still, this could pose a problem -- people there knew of it, but my dad's business is very much brick and mortar, with no online (or digital, apart from email) presence.When we began the shipping process originally, we set up a simple landing page website encouraging signups. I posted in some relevant subreddits, like the New Orleans one, and ran some targeted Facebook ads, trying to get people to sign up for updates. This was an incredibly helpful process, as not only did we build a highly targeted list of emails, but I got tons of useful feedback from my fellow redditors (including one who accosted me in a PM because he would resell my dad's product?!).By the time we approached launch, we had a few hundred signups that were all interested in our product... but they were across the country, not just our home state of Louisiana. Since we're still new to this, we made the decision to only ship in-state at first while we fine-tune our processes.So, we figured out the shipping, got some early interest, figured out suppliers for shipping materials/dry ice, did some simple PR work (I went on a local radio station, and also shot some simple videos with my dad), and set up our back-end.Our digital process for fulfillment was:1: Website to host content and take orders/get signups2: Shopify button on website for payment processing3: ShipStation integration from Shopify for bulk label ordering and managementAfter we figured all of this out, we buckled up and waited for launch, September 25th...In the End... and yesterday was AWESOME! We took a solid amount of orders entirely on word of mouth alone, and now the more specific marketing footwork has begun. Targeted ads, more lead generation, all of that good stuff - focused on getting famous Crawfish Bread to people who love it.In the end, I learned a lot, but here's the tl;dr version:Don't ever assume you just know what to do - I was wrong so many times in this process, and I'm a better businessperson because of it!Don't be afraid to ask for help - Some of our best insight came from literally picking up the phone, calling someone who does this, and asking them how they did it. Cold calls can be your best friend.Demand always exists, but finding it and keeping track of it is key - My dad has a world-famous product, but he has no database of customers. For all intents and purposes, it exists once a year for two weekends - our efforts will help change that!reddit is your friend, even when people accost you - I'm used to getting yelled at on the internet (I make video games...), but sometimes, those people who are disappointed can offer you some very good criticism. Never shut down your critics or be unwilling to hear feedback!Ask yourself why you don't want to do or try that one thing - As I mentioned with dry ice, the thing I wanted to avoid ended up being key to our success. Find out what's on the other side of your expectations.And that's my story! Thank you for listening, /r/entrepreneur :) I've gained a lot of insight from all of y'all over the years and can't wait to hear what you think. As my gift to you, if you're in Louisiana and want to try some of this stuff, use code REDDIT on our website to take $5 off your order.Thanks for your time, and have an awesome day!

#/r/entrepreneur #reddit

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