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a03bkdk · 3 years

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no quirks bkdk fic rec list (p 2)

thirsty gay wingman fic by lalazee

((smut-14130-1/1))

Oct 11, 2019 "Thinkin abt besties-since-birth BkDk goin to college together, Dk begrudgingly bein Bkg's wingman w/chicks & lamenting his big gay crush. One nite, Bkg cant get laid, hes drunk in a shitty mood, so Dk propositions him, which turns into the best night ever & the WORST consequences."

My tweet got 366 likes & 66 reblogs, so that was more than enough reason to write about it.

romeo and romeo by supercrunch

((10473-1/1))

There’s a nasally howl from the neighbour’s place. Izuku looks up – it’s the very loud, very blond guy living in the unit opposite. They’re technically in separate blocks but their balconies are close enough they can see into each other’s living rooms. He’s dancing around in his pyjamas. Yodelling at the top of his lungs off-key, swinging his Pomeranian around by the armpits like a furry ragdoll. “You’re a dog! You’re a fluffy little yellow dog and you’re a pain in the ass but you’re still my favourite shit-stain, yeah!”

Izuku bursts out laughing. The neighbour’s head whips around. He yelps when he sees him, tossing the dog on the couch and scrambling out of view to hide in the hall.

Izuku drops the watering can and runs back inside to find his phone.Small Might: Guys. I've decided i have a crush on my neighbour.

(quarantine baking: a balcony romance)

mechanical bull by warschach

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Katsuki has a track record of bad choices, it's a condition, but Izuku might be the one choice that's right.

battle of the bands by roadtripwithlucifer

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'The rules are simple. Battle of the Bands. Local bands send in a single track to the radio station, and ten tracks are selected. Over the coming month, the songs play on the station and listeners vote on the top five. The top 5 play a live concert as part of a music festival, then the top 3 at a larger, indoor venue. The top two have the honor of opening on the first stop of All Might’s retirement tour – here. In Izuku’s home town. And finally, the winner gets the ultimate prize. Getting to spend the rest of the tour, forty cities, across the country as All Might’s opener. Three months. Same tour bus. Shoulder to shoulder with the greatest musicians the world has ever known.'Izuku Midoriya is a broke college student presented with the opportunity of a lifetime. But winning isn't gonna be easy, especially when one band's aggressive blonde frontman seems to be dead-set on making Izuku's life a living hell.

oh my god! they were roomates! by phatye

((smut-79108-57/57))

“Don’t go through my shit, and if there’s a tie on the door, then fuck off!” Katsuki growled. “...what?” he asked. Katsuki glared at him. “This is fucking college, and I plan on getting laid a lot! I don’t need some nerd cockblocking me! And what is with all the fucking toys here!” Katsuki had moved over to his shelves. “Are you a fucking child or something?!” This was not what he was expecting.

shades of blue by young_crone

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Echoes filtered down the white hall as he descended the stairs toward the locker rooms, reverberating from the pool. A whistle, the sound of breaking water. He swiped the towel over his face, paused. The sliver of cerulean catching the sinking sun pouring through the skylights, the red and white lane buoys, the burn of chlorine.Izuku ran a hand through his curls, snagging on a knot. The clock on the wall reminded him how late it was. A minute wouldn't hurt. He worried his lip. Just a glimpse.

k-9 by warschach

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Izuku takes in a stray on one rainy night, except it's not a dog, it's a dog shifter who goes by the name, Katsuki. After the initial wave of panic and embarrassment, Izuku thinks his new pet/roommate is pretty cute.

sucker punch by warschach

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But, whatever, Disney Boy over there was—

Prettying up real damn good that Katsuki got kind of distracted—totally understandable, like god those CGI pine eyes—and didn’t see the straight path he made for the metal trash bin in the center of the area until he was tipping forward and waist deep in discarded bottles, plates, balled up tissues sticky with he prayed was chocolate ice cream and nacho cheese.

Mina howled behind the gate. “Look, Katsuki returned to his home.”

(or Katsuki works security at Six Flags and moonlights as a derby dude and continuously looks uncool around Izuku)

may I take your order, dipshit? by supercrunch

((6373-1/1))

So, like, maybe Bakugou wasn’t really the best choice for this whole pizza delivery shindig.

(Midoriya in love, Bakugou in denial, and way, way too much cheese.

A BakuDeku romance in thirty minutes or less. )

raise me so high (your sins become my pedestal) by stardust_painter

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After his boyfriend cheats on him, Izuku wants to do something stupid. The question is how stupid does he want to be.

The answer is very stupid apparently.

eye for an eye or whatever by tobiyos

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“I’ll make it up to you!” Izuku says brightly, lifting his head from Katsuki’s lap.

Katsuki’s eyes narrow but he isn’t still pushing Izuku away so. Progress. “Fuck are you gonna do to make it up to me?”

“Hmm…” Izuku says quietly, tapping at his chin. “Oh! You’re still a virgin, right?”

Katsuki chokes on his own spit and promptly renews his efforts of pushing Izuku away by the forehead. “Fuck off,” he wheezes, “get out of my room.”

leap of faith by ladyofsnails

((28771-4/4))

Midoriya Izuku is just a random kid who loves art, analyzes everything, and is obsessed with the (in)famous hero Mighty Spider. He's got a loving mother, a great uncle, and maybe not too many friends that aren't those two but he's working on it.

And then a random cute boy shows up at his school, a spider bites him, he meets his hero under the worst possible conditions, and it all goes to hell. Now he's got villains on his tail, a promise to keep to a dead guy, and a washed-up hobo as his mentor.

Here goes nothing.

green is the warmest color by gloriousporpoise

((smut-12287-2/2))

“Woah, someone call the fire department,” Eijirou says, elbowing Katsuki squarely in the ribs. “That guy is smokin.’”

“I literally hate you.”

Here’s the thing, though. Eijirou’s a certified dumbass, but his current observation isn’t even a little bit wrong, much to Katsuki’s displeasure.

“Think you can get his number?”

Or, Bakugou is a painter without a muse.

you and i collide by ethereals

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And not that Bakugou’s the type to sexualize a potentially dead body; especially one that he just accidentally murdered, but the man has some pretty solid DSL’s. He would hit it, with more than just his car.

in which rich fratboy! bakugou is a badass who accidentally hits poor med student!izuku with his car and chaos ensues therefore.

97.6 FM by jamjars

((smut-32249-3/3))

Izuku can’t stop listening to the radio host with the deep voice who sounds like he’s stuck in 2010. It’s a harmless crush. That is until he starts calling into the show under the pseudonym Deku.

Or Radio Host! Baugou x Listener! Midoriya

give me that sweet love by xsxuxgxax

((smut-32768-9/9))

Things Katsuki needs to excel at: be hot, be clever and pretend to be nice, let Izuku kiss him publicly, let Izuku fuck him privately…

(sugar baby katsuki and sugar daddy izuku pretty much)

dance with me by astralchaos

((30161-10/10))

Mina pulled up a video of a young man, seemingly teen, dancing to a popular new hit, and Izuku felt his heart drop to his stomach. His skin prickled and felt clammy as he started sweating nervously, not daring to move or make a noise. His eyes were glued to the screen but he didn’t see anything – his brain was too busy going into overdrive and freaking out.

Because Mina was showing him a video of himself. The one he uploaded last night.

How on Earth did she find this? He had barely a few thousand views, he wasn’t popular, and it’s not like he was even any good, especially compared to her or Kacchan–

“That move was sexy as hell,” Kacchan said, and that was when Izuku realized that his childhood friend – his longtime crush – also leaned in to watch the video Mina was showing him.

puppies puppies by Esselle

((15491-2/2))

"So after doing all that," Katsuki says, "you're just going to settle here? Tatting up wannabe bad boys?"

"You think all guys who have a lot of tattoos are wannabes?" Midoriya asks, so smoothly that it throws Katsuki.

"Wh—no, I mean—maybe!" Katsuki says. "You'd know best, wouldn't you? Are you a bad boy?"

The words are out of his mouth before he even realizes it, and he regrets them immediately. There's a figurative list of things that one should never do, and probably high up on it is asking dark-haired sailors with ocean green eyes and black swirls of ink all across their barely concealed muscles if they are bad boys.

Katsuki thinks he has everything he needs in life: a successful pet shop, an occasionally reliable assistant, and the unconditional love of the twenty puppies he’s raising for adoption. But when the tattoo parlor next door hires Midoriya Izuku, a hot sailor with an affinity for dogs, it makes Katsuki wonder if he might need something more.

Like… a piece of that ass. Maybe. He’s figuring it the hell out as he goes.

im gonna make a part 3 later ergaegrggjnjuvuh

#in case you missed it #i adore warchach #bakudeku #bakudeku fics #bakudeku fic recs #bkdk #bkdk fics #bkdk fic recs #izuku mydoria #bakugou katsuki #yeahhhh

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tamorasky · 3 years

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Rise to Me Chapter 12 - August 1943

Summary: 1947. It had been nearly four years since she had received a letter from her sister. Now with the end of the war and her impending wedding, Anna Rendelle is more determined than ever to find her sister.

1943. All her life Elsa Rendelle had been told to be good, know her place and to marry well. When an opportunity arises to make something of herself, finding herself in Occupied France as a part of a larger network of secret agents.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Anna/Kristoff, Elsa/Honeymaren, Anna/Hans (Briefly)

AO3

She feels sick to her stomach as she and Yelana walk down the hall of the barracks, neither of them speak as they push through the door. Outside, a black car sits outside of the building. Elsa follows Yelana towards the vehicle. Both of the women climb into the back of the car.

“Remember the curfew in Arras has been changed to nine-thirty.” The older woman reiterates as they drive through the dark military base.

Elsa nods in response, tucking her hands into the pockets of a coat that isn’t hers; pulling out a cinema stub and a bus ticket from Givenchy to Arras, both printed in French. Things created to make her character more authentic; more so than Elsa has been in her entire life.

“This is for you.” Yelana passes Elsa a small leather purse. The younger woman takes it, glancing into the bag. It contains a compact, lipstick and wallet. These were all seeming toiletries but were in fact essential tools for her in the field; things she saw at her training at Rhubana lodge.

They pass an RAF guard holding a lantern and stop on the edge of the aerodrome. Elsa emerges from the car and walks towards the driver, who was unloading bags from the back of the vehicle. She grabs the case which contains her radio, but Yelana reaches forward to stop her.

“A-am I not supposed to?”

“The radio is too heavy for the Lysander. It will be dropped separately.”

“Oh…” Elsa stares at the suitcase, somewhat dismayed that she was departing with the radio that had been by her side over the past months. With much hesitancy she lets of the radio, glancing to the tarmac at the tiny Lysander. Her heart pounds in her chest at the thought that her wireless was too heavy to be transported on the plane but could carry her.

“It will be delivered to you,” Yelana explains. “Don’t worry. They’re very good.”

Though the older woman’s words were meant to reassure her, they don’t. Elsa doesn’t even know who these people are, how is she expected to trust them or believe Yelana’s words.

They stand on the edge of the airfield, the damp air chilling Elsa to the bone. Yelana turns to the young woman, grabbing her cuffs to ensure they are folded just so. As usual, the grey-haired woman is emotionless, but Elsa notices the way her hands tremble.

That is when her chest grows cold. Seeing Yelana’s fear sparks Elsa’s own. Yelana stares at her, giving her a nod before leading her towards the plane. The words Batting Order chalked on the side of the plane, followed by names she didn’t know.

“What are those?” She asks.

“It’s the priority of persons to be rescued if they are at the landing site. The plane only fits three people and can’t wait for more than a minute for passengers.” Yelana explains. Elsa nods, wondering why she is going overseas willingly while there are countless others trying to escape the continent. She wonders if she’ll ever be on a plane home to Anna. She hopes she will be.

“Your money.” Yelana hands her a neat stack of francs, wrapped in a rubber band. “Half your pay comes in cash when you’re in the field to use for things you need. The rest will be paid to you in pounds upon your return home. And this is for you.”

Much to Elsa’s surprise, Yelana hands her a necklace with a small silver snowflake charm. It is not a gift. Yelana unscrews the pendant next to the charm to reveal a small cyanide capsule.

“The final friend.” The older woman states. “Germans know the smell and will try to make you spit it out. So you’ll need to chew it quickly.”

Elsa takes it from Yelana with a nod. “Thank you.”

“You can thank me by getting the job done.” Yelana takes Elsa’s hand, squeezing it for slightly too long. She then turns and stalks across the field towards the waiting car without another word.

With shaking hands Elsa approaches the plane. She has never flown before and the small plane in front of her brought no comfort, it is intimidating.

A man sits in the cockpit, waving for her to come aboard rather impatiently. She wastes no time in entering the plane, settling herself in a narrow seat behind the pilot. Within moments the crew close the doors, sealing Elsa’s fate.

She had expected her pilot to be a military pilot, but his red hair is longer than military standard just barely touching the sherpa of his leather bomber jacket. Elsa can’t believe that the stubbled man in front of her is flying her to France. Hoping to god he is experienced enough to land her safely in France.

“There has been a change of plans.” He announces, revealing himself to be Irish.

“Oh?” Elsa inquires, trying to retain her composure as her stomach flips violently.

The pilot nods curtly. “You’ll be landing blind.”

She watches as the man turn back towards the control, pressing buttons and gauges she doesn’t recognize. Looking up from her lap, Elsa sees the propeller on the plane’s nose turn through the windshield.

The plane rolls forward, jostling her as it rolls along the uneven earth. The sound of the propeller and engine resounding loudly in her ears as they increase pace. Elsa takes deeps breaths, trying not to panic and convince herself that this is the right decision for her. There is no backing down from this. Landing blind. No one is coming for her when she lands, it is up to her to find her point when arriving in France.

She cries out as the ground slips out from underneath her. It is strange to the young woman, her hand pressed against the cold metal side of the plane. Taking a deep breath, she looks out of the small window; hoping to catch the sight of Yelana and the car, but they had already left.

Her eyes squeeze shut as the plane shoots up at a steep angle. Her stomach-dropping, she leans forward, her forearms resting on her knees, her head dropping between her legs. She felt as if she might be sick. Taking shallow breaths as they had been instructed to fight off nausea as they had been instructed. She cannot throw up in the plane.

The wave subsides, allowing Elsa to slowly raise herself from between her legs. Deciding to look out of the window as the pilot had stopped talking to her; not that they could hear one another over the engine.

She can’t see any houses below, even though she knew there were. The mandatory blackouts had managed to turn the entire countryside dark. Elsa stares at the countryside, her heart aching at the thought of her sister. Wishing that she could see London and at least imagine Anna walking down the street in that damn reefer coat.

Her hand clutches the jacket as the plane drops and turns sharply to the left. She places her free hand on the seat to avoid being sent forward by the jolt trying not to panic at the turbulence.

“Is something wrong?” She calls loudly to be heard over the deafening roar of the engine. The pilot shakes his head, glancing over his shoulder briefly to the woman.

“No, everything it fine. You just feel everything flying in this thing. God knows the Lysander isn’t the best, I mean the Germans could take this thing down with a rock.” He comments, spiking Elsa’s anxiety. “But I can put her down in any condition and quickly.”

He eases on the throttle as they reach the French coast, lowering the plane into a thick fog to encircle the plane. The pilot glances out of the window, trying to get a better view of the ground below.

“We may have to turn back.” He announces.

“We can’t wait till it clears?” Elsa inquires. Knowing that if they turned back, she wouldn’t get back into this plane.

He shakes his head. “Unfortunately, no. We need to be back in ally airspace by daylight. We won’t be able to fly fast or high enough to escape enemy fire.”

Elsa’s arm hairs stand on end as fear slowly creeps under her skin as it occurs to her, she could die even before landing in France. “A-are we turning back?”

“I think I can manage it. Seems like we’re close enough to the right spot. I’m going to make a go at it.” He states, his deep voice confident.

“That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.” She laughs nervously.

He turns to her with a smirk, shaking his head. “You’re going to want to hold on tight. This is going to be rough.”

The plane drops without much notice, causing Elsa to grip the seat once again as the plane shoots in a downward spiral. Her heart pounds in her ears, trying to convince herself that they are not crashing, just that the pilot might be a maniac. She closes her eyes, taking shallows breaths again as her nausea returns.

The hard jolt vibrates through Elsa’s body as the plane hits the ground, she hadn’t braced as she trained for although it only caused an initial shot of pain in her lower back. The plane glides along the ground, both the pilot and Elsa feeling every bump outside of the plane.

The plane jerks to a stop with the brakes squeaking loudly, Elsa wonders if someone could have heard them. The pilot stands, opening the door to glance outside of the plane. “As I thought, no one for return.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Elsa inquires, grabbing her purse, which had fallen on the ground from their journey.

“It could mean a lot of things. But yeah, they might have been captured.” The pilot sighs. “Alright, head east for the train station. You need to keep low and move quickly through the trees. There should be a blue bicycle behind the station. There should be further instructions upon your arrival.”

“S-should?” Elsa stutters, her blood running cold. “A-and if there isn’t?”

“It’s Sylvestre’s circuit. Everything will be in order.” The man reassures her.

Elsa nods as the pilot watches her, waiting for her to leave the plane. He clears his throat, his gaze darting at the door and back to the young woman. With her heart pounding, Elsa has no other option. She has to leave the plane.

He watches the young woman as she stands shakily, offering her a sympathetic smile. “I’d come with you if I could. But I can’t leave the Lysander.”

“Oh, of course. No, I understand. Thank you for everything.” Elsa nods as she climbs out of the plane.

“Good luck.” He states. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

Elsa narrows her eyes at him, wondering if this was a test. “Marguerite.”

“I’m Will.” The pilot smiles at her with a nod. “But you best be off.”

“Of course.” She turns from the plane, feeling his gaze on her as she stalks away from the landing site. While inching closer to the treeline, Elsa glances over her shoulder to see the door to the Lysander closed. The engine revs and the plane begins to roll forward, picking up speed.

Elsa turns away before it takes off from the ground. She is totally alone now, stepping into the unknown. She walks across the field in complete darkness, searching for the cover of the trees.

The smell of lavender envelops her scent as if she stepped back into her childhood; of summers spent in Île de Ré. Running through fields on the coast at her grand-mère’s cottage on the isle. Elsa used to sit in the field of lavender outside of the house, while Anna ran around her in circles calling out for her; the very reason why she and Anna were often sent outside by their mother and grand-mère.

She finds the tree cover, standing among the dogwoods and pine trees, trying to recall what way Will had pointed when he directed her to go east. Reaching for her purse, Elsa slips her hand into the bag to find the makeup compact equipped with a compass. She squints trying to read the compass by the light of the moon.

Orienting herself east, Elsa meanders through the trees. She trips on a rock, landing on the forest floor hard. The wind becomes knocked out of her as she falls, a pain throbbing through her ankle. Sitting up, she thinks back to her first morning at Rhubana lodge, wishing now more than ever that Honeymaren would be by her side. With a huff Elsa stands from the dirt, wincing with her first step but the pain subsiding as she continues.

“Arrêt!” A voice orders. Elsa freezes, her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn’t believe it she had already been caught. On her first night, not even an hour into her mission. There is no way of telling if it is the Germans or French police; either way, she had failed.

Her hand flies to the necklace, her fingers brushing over the snowflake and her mother’s locket as she wonders if she should take the cyanide now. She never thought she would need it so soon.

She turns to see a tall, imposing man standing behind her in the dark. Her breath stops as his gun is levelled at her.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a fool.” The man growls in English. “You never listen to them, you either run or fight. But never obey!”

“I…uh…” She stammers. But without another word he grabs her by the elbow, leading her roughly through the wood. Instinctively she pulls away from the stranger, unable to stand his touch.

Her feet drag against the cold tile of the building, four hands holding her up as they dragged her back to her shared room, having no strength to stand on her own. Her head lulled up at the bright lights of the building as screams echoed through the hall. This had been all her fault.

“Come on!” He takes her arm again with a growl as if trying to lead a stubborn mule. “Unless you want to be found by the Milice!”

She hesitates, having no information about anyone she is to meet in this whole racket. According to the pilot, no one is meeting her at all. The young woman wonders as she is dragged through the forest if this man is actually one of them.

With no choice, Elsa follows after him as he urges her on. They walk through the forest, remaining completely silent as the moon shines down on them.

It could all be a trap, a member of the Milice dragging her through this forest to her death. Or worse to be tortured into giving information. She isn’t even sure if she had any information to give up to the Germans at this point. Her radio hadn’t come with her so there was no ability to use the wireless to contact the SOE, nor did she know anyone within the circuit.

They reach a clearing, with what must be farmland. The silhouette of the farmhouse noticeable in the distance. On the edge of the land stands a small windowless shed.

“You are to stay here tonight.” The stranger states, pulling her towards the structure.

“What? No.” Elsa objects, shaking her head. “I’m supposed to be at a train station and find a bike for my circuit.”

“Be quiet!” He snaps harshly, causing the blonde to shrink into herself. “You should never mention anything about a circuit! Never mention any names to anyone.”

“What about my wireless?” Elsa questions, insisting on answers. She isn’t used to this; she is used to Yelana standing by her side answering the questions.

“Follow orders and stay here.” He opens the shed, struggling with the lock. “Someone will be here to collect you in the morning.”

He opens the door, letting her into the structure. There is no light and the air musky, warm air. She steps inside as though having no choice, the smell of manure overtaking her senses with no bed or toilet.

Without any warning, the door to the shed closes loudly, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoing through the small shed. Elsa rushes towards the door, her hand clasps on the handle and attempts to turn only for it not to turn. She couldn��t believe there were locking her in, she can’t even believe what is happening.

Footsteps outside of the shed disappear with a loud huff, leaving Elsa in silence. She turns from the door at the sound of something scurrying across the ground. Either a mouse or a rat. Elsa didn’t care to know at this point; her bones aching and her skin crawling.

She sinks to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees as tries to calm herself in the dark. Her back resting against the wooden frame as her head hits against it with an audible thud.

Listening to the mouse or the rat scuttling, Elsa smiles thinking back to training. In which she had nearly destroyed the decoy set upon the woman by the instructor.

..............

They had been standing around in the lodge, listening to the instructor about various explosives. The next thing she knew, several women were screaming and scampering away from the animal in the middle of the floor.

Elsa didn’t hesitate as she stepped towards the rat, ready to kill it in a second. But stopped as she noticed something different with this one. She leaned over picking it up to see it was an obvious fake.

She held it up to the professor with a questioning gaze. The professor smiled at her, taking the rat from her hand.

“This!” He held it up to show the class. “Is a decoy

The girls gathered around their teacher, inspecting the decoy with interest as he further explained “The Germans will think it’s a dead rat until they get close.”

He walked away from the girls to the opposite field without another word, before rejoining them as he instructed them to step back. He pressed a button on a detonator held in his hand and without any other warning the rat exploded. Causing a series of gasps to erupt among the women.

..............

Elsa smiles at the memory. She and Honeymaren had sat on one of their beds that night, laughing at how most women scattered at the sight and how Elsa had been ready to destroy it without a second thought.

She wishes Maren would be with her now, there would be an arm draped over her shoulder and whispers of reassurance throughout the shed. At least with Honeymaren by her side, Elsa would have some confidence that she hadn’t fucked this entire mission up on her first night.

#kristanna #elsamaren #anna #elsa #kristoff #honeymaren #Rise to Me #Post WWII AU #WWII AU #frozen #frozen 2

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Green Eggs and Ham: “Train” Review or A Little Better Now (Patreon Review for Emma Fici)

Hello you happy people and all aboard! We’re back on the Green Eggs and Ham Train for a Train themed episode. Train. As you can tell I like trains... admitely I don’t see enough episodes et on them and I don’t buy books or obess on them but I like the idea of a train, the comfort, the use of a mode of travel that was once common but is now simply used on occasion with the dawn of air travel, and it confining our heroes to a smaller space with limited room to move. it’s good stuff. I even tolerae the band train... I mean yes their music is okay at best, but the lyrics.. are wonderfully delightfully insane. Who else would use a garbage bag as a genuine romantic metaphor?

When last we left off things ere a bit ehhhhhhhhhhh: Sam went from delightfully quirky with some issues ot adress to annoying, and Michelle went from kin dof a bitch ot ENTIRELY THAT BITCH. Outside of Guy’s mental breakdown/heatstroke episode involving hallucinations of green eggs and ham, yes that did in fact happen, it wasn’t much to write home about and I worried the series simply had a good PILOT but the series itself wasn’t going to be fun sit through.

If I was right or I was rilla.. will have to wait till after the cut. But first as always i’d like to thank the person who payed for this episode Emma Fici. Emma is one of my closest friends and one of two patreon patreons. If you’d like a reivew of your choice eveyr month guarnateed, then please hop over to patreon.com/popculturebuffet and back me at the 5 dollar level. You also get access to my exclusive discord where I ocasoinally post about work in progress stuff and tlak to my falns, to pick a short any time I do one and EXCLUSIVE review, as well as helping me hit my stretch goals. So line up, sign up then join me under the cut.

So we pick up where we left off with Guy hurtling into a lake. Eh I dunno i’ve heard being naked ina lake is pretty neat.

youtube

All you’d have to do is take off the hat and your there. But Sam saves him wiht the weird train of hats he put at the end of the car for some reason, and our heroes are saved.. but down a vehicle. Oh and Sam’s vehiclular neglgence costs a bunch of fish their home.

And our heroes are without a car and Guys at the end of his rope with Sam.. I mean granted he’s been there since he met the guy but it’s down to like the tiniest thred, not helped by Sam casually stealing his wallet to pay for train tickets depsite Guy , UNDERSTANDABLY, not wanting to hang out with the guy who has stolen with him, gotten him implicate din animal trafficing and dosen’t really respect personal space. Also it’s taken me embarassingly long to remember Micheal Douglas played my boy Hank Pym in the Ant Man and the Wasp films. Seroiusly I don’t know HOW I forgot that, him being aged up and thus unable to do ANY of the things he is constnatly denied credit for in canon (Founding the avengers, being the first ant man.. and the first goliath and the first yellow jacket and the first giant man.. and the only doctor pym...).. but instead the film kept his troubled nature and ego, but removed the domestic abuse (which is something I will not go into but needless to say the comics version went above and beyond to try and make up for that and redeem himself soley because it was the right hting to do) and by making im older still gav ehim a roll as Scott’s mentor. What i’m getting at is I freaking love Hank Pym and I could’ve been making hank pym jokes for several episdoes now. That’s a mistake I itned to recitfy.. right away as Guy looses his suitcase as a result of it and whie he lcaims not to be bothered his voice says otherwise. Eh i’m sure the world can wait for ultron Guy.

So anyway, Guy reluctantly agrees to the train travel idea and being parked across from Sam on the grounds he has no real other options. Meanwhile the BAD GUYZ.. and i’ve also decided to drop spoilers as the series is two years old, most people reading this have probably seen the series, and it makes analysis rough when I have to dance around spoilers. So yeah the BAD GUYZ aren’t villians.. kind of a dickhead on the blue guys part, but not EVIL. They figure out their going by train it’s a whole thing.

ON the train we run into michelle again...

Yeahhh for the first half she’s as inusfferable as she was the last two episodes and it lead me to believie the rest of the series was going to be constant suffering as she’d be in every episode, likely because they DID get Diane Keaton for this and you don’t waste Diane Keaton. You just don’t. But while they got their money’s worth in having her on screne wise they just..w asted her for the first 2 and a half episodes: Michelle is a judgemental, unpleasnt suffocating bitch and it’s going to take a lot , even if this episode helped, to make me truly like her as a person.

Case in point her first two scenes this episode are just.. dragging her daughter past a play place uncarring about her feelings because while I DO get she cares about her child’s saftey and is terrified afte rloosing her husband.. it dosen’t EXCUSE her actions. It dosen’t forgive her locking her daughter up constanlty, not talking to her like a human being and oh yeah PUTTING A FUCKING LOCK ON HER SHE CAN CONTROL. I mean my god I don’t think they INTENDED for her to come off as abusive as she does, and i’ve seen far worse inteitonally and untietionally, but it’s still not remotely plesant. There is a larger issue baked into that the episode brings about, but we’ll get to that.

And naturally at breakfast.. she procedes to top herself. ONCE AGAIN she treats guy like trash as guy UNDERSTANDABLY didn’t want to talk to her after her previous layers of bullshit which, just as a refresher, involved insulting his invention constnatly (even if it turned out ot be dangerous she did not know that till the last second) then refusing to help a man BAKING in the desert and mocking him to his face.

So yeah unsuprisingly instead of you know, APOLOGIZING for that episode or anything else she mocks him again and calls him sad. I just.. I get they were trying to have her come off as a jerk and then slowly develop.. but you can’t overdue the jerk part. It has to be juts the right amount and if it is this much there has to be a commpuance. There is none as far as I can tell because god is a spiteful two faced prick.

So naturally Sam forces the two parties together, and orders green eggs and ham for everyone, except guy who refuses. We do get a really great bit though as EB turns down the idea and we get a tremendous rant from Micheal Douglas as he talks about how a girl in his clash, veyr likely just him, got a rash from tring new things and you shouldn’t and to watch out for the scarlet beetle he’ll steel your ants and try to conquer your planet and is not a guy in a costume but in fact an actual beetle. EB naturally tries it.

We get a brief interlude with Snerz that’s funny enough: he outright calls his visotrs flunkies, they enter to the song money, and his minon throws dollar bills at their feet. I imagine this is what visitng Mar a Largo is like. They turn up his noses until he mentions getting a chickarffe for his animal crutelty wall. And i’m torn about Snerz. On one hand he can be generally entertaining in his dickery.. but ont he other I do question why he’s in EVERY episode. We don’t NEED him in eveyr one and I feel he’s only in them because Eddie Izzard was expensive so they had to get him as a regular to justify the cost. We really DONT’ need this scene funny as it is and it adds nothing so far. Maybe i’m wrong and these guys end up being important. I don’t know.

So yeah so far this episode was miserable getting through and I expected it to be another long sit... I was wrong. The second half.. is really damn good and reminded me why I liked this series so much. No really. We get two stories,both really good following one half of each pair teaming up. As for why their split Guy is annoyed with Sam, as well as dosen’t want him letting the chickaraffe out because you know lots of people dosen’t want ot go to jail and leaves to find a quiet place to work on watching paint dry while Michelle tucks a sleeping EB in, her first really truly humanizing moment, which should NOT have taken three episodes but hey, i’ll take it, and goes to find the same.

So starting with Sam and EB, naturally Sam takes all of a minute to let his buddy out and it gets loose on top of the train. EB hears the familiar sound and gives chase and the two meet properly. After Sam covers for his buddy and realizes the creature is asleep in his car safe now, he properly talks to EB and we get a truly magical sequnece: The two talk with Sam whoelheartdly supporting her free spirit and finally giving the girl what she badly needed: someone who treated her not as something to be tied down but you know.. a child who just wants some expression and as she literally lets her hair down, It’s truly adorable and it just has a magical quanitity as they enjoy the beautiful view from the train top.

Granted this takes at urn later when EB brings up her mom, and Sam.. supports her mom, pointing out she’s just looking out for her.. which she is but in a deeply unehalthy way and I don’t like the show just.. brushing over Michelle’s terrible actions because “she’s her mom”. But it’s also hard to tell if they are: Sam’s mom left him as we’ll find out, so he likely colors his memories of her rosey and simply envys EB still HAVING hers. It’s not BAD stuff but I don’t like a work saying “You should love your family just beacause your related”. Instead of because they lovea nd support you and if they dont’ love you or treat you remotely well or don’t give an ass about you fuck them. Thankfully I DO love my family and have no issues with them, my immediate family at least, but i’ve had friens with downright abusive or neglectful parents. It’s not that black and white. Ducktales also hammered in the family theme but was transparent in how it can me messy, harm each other and that it took true love and consideratoin for it to work at it’s core.

It’s still not a terrible scene and what comes next is neat as earlier it was shown the train has loops, because Seussworld, and now that’s a problem because their on top of it. Michelle’s jail braclet thing ends up coming in handy the first loop, as while she can’t unstick it means she and sam can suririvie it. They do get it loose, turns out the password was indeed password, because of course, and they end up narrowly suriving a roller coaster bit of track, with the help of MR. Jenkins who I can finally name because EB names her in the next scene. Understanding her need for a pet, Sam deputizes her, and gets her back in bed in time for the next plot.

Speaking of which winding back a bit as these two go back and forth, Guy goes through two rather hilarious cars: First a bath car that has a bubsby berkely style water number and then a model train car.. with the train on the track showing guy watching guy watchin gthe train etc.

It’s great. Guy ends up finding the quiet car.. and Michelle. And in her first scene of acting like a human being and not if julie powers was a soccer mom, Michelle, while standosfish as usual, not only unites with guy to shush a loud guy in the car, but is genuinely apricative when Guy helps her get her place back, she was doing some literal bean counting.

The two genuinely hit it off, first with some adorable silent bits and then by talking, with Michelle appreciating his now safer job and warming up to him. Keaton and Douglas have GENUINE chemestry and it annoys me itt took the series this long to use that instead of wasting Diane Keaton on being

It’s really great stuff and i’m actually rooting for the two.. once she gets her shit together obviously. Guy does make the mistake of lying abotu knowing about the chikcaraffe.

This ends up being bad as he finds out EB knows the next day and after she leaves the car RIGHTFULLY tears the fuck into same for getting him accused of crime, stealing from him and now puttin ghim in a precarious situation. While Guy DID lie, he idd so well meaningly and trying to impress someone whose ineherntly judgmeental. Douglas also does REALY well in the scene, calling sam out but it dosen’t feel cruel.. it’s justified. While guy is miserable and does need to work on himself.. Sam also needs to work on himself and is putting guy in serious danger just by forcing him into his animal smuggling scheme.

So Guy leaves.. and naturally given the unvierse hate shim runs into the BAD GUYZ, who aren’t much better. No really they refuse to belieive guy might be innocent, use excessive force on everyone. They have better GOALS than sam but I woudln’t really call them good people. Smash to black and we’re out.

Final Thoughts: This one was better. As I said the first half or rather third drags slightly but once we get to the two seperate plotlines it’s REALLY damn good stuff and reminded me what the series was capable of in character in creativity. Hopefully it keeps this up

Next Time on the Blog: We return to mewni for the penultimate chapter of season 3 as Moon and Eclipsa have some fundemtnal disgareemnts on how to handle Meteora that wind up costing both dearly.

See you at the next rainbow

#green eggs and ham #guy am I #sam I am #dr seuss #netflix #animation #patreon

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celestias-right-hoof-mas-au · 3 years

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WARNING: As I mentioned in the previous chapter, this story is based on an adult parody of MLP called The Mentally Advanced Series. I would encourage that if you had not watched it to do so to get a grasp of the world in which this takes place. Many of the jokes, lore, and otherwise are in reference to MAS, not just simply My Little Pony. I have also made a supercut that includes every reference and appearance of Celestia in the series. In case watching the entire MAS series maybe too time consuming. If you find Celestia, or other canon characters, used in crude and unpleasant depictions offensive, this is your warning. However, I would appreciate that you take a look anyway with an open mind.

Celestia Supercut Link

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Days passed with bootcamp still on the horizon. Valiance’s mind was evermore focused on the possibility of becoming one of Celestia’s finest. In preparation for her big day, and to calm her nerves, Valiance exercised vigorously. Not a morning passed where she didn’t run, strength trained, or practice the little amount of spells she knew.

A blaring ringing stirred Valiance awake from her slumber. She groggily reached her hoof to tap the all too familiar alarm clock before rubbing the sleepiness away from her eyes. With a deep breath, and a small rocking of herself, she was up and out of bed in a jiffy. Any residual tiredness she might’ve felt was quickly washed away with an ice cold splash of water and the freshness one gets from brushing their teeth.

As Valiance stretched about her stiff muscles before her daily morning run, she halted to a stop. Her ears flicked back and forth when met with a low rumbling noise in the distance. The once peaceful silence of the cool early morning was violently shattered as a loud explosion rang between the buildings. The birds outside screeched and scattered away as the sky blackened with an ominous cloud. Valiance rushed towards the window and peered out to see what was happening.

"What in Equestria was that?!" Valiance gasped. Had something gone wrong with the weather production? That thought was immediately thrown out the window when the storm cloud began to speed towards the castle, appearing sentient in nature. Squinting her eyes, Valiance's jaw dropped at her revelation.

It wasn’t a cloud at all, it was a swarm made of thousands of invaders. Their porous chiton and glass wings left no room for doubt.

“Changelings?! I thought Celestia had them all eradicated?!” Valiance exclaimed as she grabbed her helmet. After a brief moment to change into her armor, Valiance unsheathed her weapon, an ornamented halberd, and rushed outside. Chaos flooded the streets of Canterlot as ponies desperately attempted to evade the parasitic menace. The empty husks of what was once the good ponies of Canterlot were scattered in the streets.

Valiance shuddered and cut through an alleyway. There, she witnessed the horror of the changeling's feeding habits. The creature huddled over an unconscious pony with its tongue like proboscis sucking the fluids out of its victim's neck. It has been said that the changelings could survive solely off of the emotion of love. However, there was no evidence of that as far as Valiance saw, and she had no intentions of finding out such rumors.

The amber glow of her magic slowly powered up and took possession of her halberd. The creature’s unblinking eyes snapped onto Valiance’s position, before the changeling soldier could even react, the long piercing thorn of Valiance’s weapon ripped into its skull like a hot fork stabbing into butter. Its back leg and wings twitched as the rest of its body slumped over and detached itself from the pony beneath it. Valiance rushed over towards the victim, who she could now see was a stallion, and looked him over to inspect the severity of his injuries.

The pony wore heavy darkened bags underneath his eyes, protruding cheekbones and colorless cracked lips. Despite his gaunt appearance, Valiance noted his pulse was still relatively steady and his breathing wasn’t too faint. She concluded that the stallion would survive and hid him behind some trash bins so no other changeling would find him before he woke.

In no time at all, Valiance had reached the castle grounds. The front gates were left open and unattended. The quietness in that moment was eerily contrasted by the screams in the distance. Without hesitation, Valiance sprinted into the grounds with a burning spirit and a molten heart.

"Help! Anypony, please!" Shrieked a pink and raspberry pony as she was being roughly carried away by a pair of changelings.

Higher and higher they climbed into the sky when suddenly, one of the changelings let out a guttural screech. Valiance's halberd embedded into the stomach of the changeling with a sickening crunch.

With its comrade dead, the remaining changeling released the little unicorn from its weakened grip. The unicorn screamed and shut her eyes as she plummeted towards the ground, but instead of crashing to her death, her body came to a sudden stop. Slowly peeking through her glasses with persian blue eyes, she found herself encased in amber magic.

But to her surprise, her gaze was not met by another carapaced equine, instead, she was met by an enormous pale mare. The stranger's body and face was obscured by a strikingly unique set of armor she had never seen from any of the castle staff, or Canterlot for that matter, and although intimidating, she felt comfort from the mysterious horse who was protectively holding her away from the monster with glazed compound eyes. Gently, the pony found her footing on the cool grass and the magic slowly faded away.

“Go, I’ll keep him busy while you escape.” Valiance ordered.

“W-well what about you?!” the pink unicorn replied in desperation.

“There’s no time, get somewhere safe. I can handle this.” Valiance implored with a more stern tone. The small pony hesitated momentarily and adjusted her glasses. Then, she made a break for it, ashamed of abandoning her savior.

The remaining changeling, knowingly outmatched, let out a piercing shriek. The familiar buzzing of changeling wings came from all directions as reinforcements surrounded Valiance. It did not matter, however, as Valiance made short work of them all.

Once her adversaries had been disposed of, Valiance made her way to the front of the castle. Though she had no idea how the changelings accomplished it, they had blown a massive hole where the entrance to the castle would be. Inside wasn’t much better, with the changelings’ filthy webbing covering the walls and ceiling. Before she could continue onwards she noticed very subtle movement coming from the larger mountains of webbing. Using the spear tip of her weapon, she carefully cut open one of the mounds. When suddenly, a guard’s head popped out from inside. The royal guard let out a choking gasp, desperately coughing for air as he violently wriggled from the grotesque wrapping.

“Oh thank Celestia, you found me! I couldn’t imagine the meal they’d make out of me if you hadn’t come!” The grey stallion cheered profusely as his body was hauled out of its confines by Valiance’s magic.

“Are you alright? Can you stand on your own?” Valiance asked, offering a shoulder to lean on.

The pony patted himself lightly and clicked his hooves on the floor, “Seems like I’m good to go!”

“Great. Help me get everypony else out of these pods.” Valiance urged, pointing to the other pods in the room. With a quick nod, the stallion rushed over and began peeling his comrades out of their wrapping. Free from their binds, the soldiers pawed the ground aggressively, eager for a second chance against the parasites who had hit the heart of their home.

“Thanks for saving our hides, soldier. Did you just roll into town?” asked the chief officer of the group.

“Just signed up the other day, sir.” Valiance saluted, straightening her posture.

“Well, hells bells, sorry to hear that, private. But at this point we need all the hooves we can get. Head over to the west wing where the castle staff have holed up. That’s where the rest of the new recruits are as well. The rest of us are gonna go exterminate these bugs, ain’t that right, boys?!” the officer commanded, his band cheering and war ready. No sooner did Valiance break apart from the team did she gallop away towards her destination. The further she headed west, the dimmer and more rotten the castle became. It was as if everything the changelings touched became corrupted. Eventually she came to a hall where the doors had been sealed shut. So corroded and splintered were the doors, that Valiance believed she had found what she was looking for. She pried the remains of the doors open, hoping some survivors were still within.

However, there were none. Valiance’s heart dropped at what she found instead. Like flies on a rotting carcass, the room was full of changelings and podded victims lay scattered on every surface.

The freshly made pods glowed with a luminescent green and were just bright enough to see what lay inside. Within them were ponies in various forms of digestion. Some had their innards pouring out of themselves and others were torn apart by changeling grubs who feasted upon them. Nopony was spared, for in the farthest corner of the room lay a much smaller pod than the rest. Inside, floated the curled up body of a filly. Just as Valiance had made her horrific discovery, so too did the changelings take notice of her presence.

With barely enough time to draw her weapon, Valiance was bombarded by insectoid bodies. She cleaved her halbert into their shells and slashed at their soft underbellies. Yet even still, they kept coming and piling onto her. Her vision blurred from the shifting bodies and she felt them crawling everywhere attempting to pry her armor off. Desperately, Valiance stomped and kicked, but to no avail. Her legs began to buckle from their biting and stabbing, so much so, that the pain kept her from using any advanced spells to get away. Even teleportation was useless as the growing cloudiness in her mind prevented her from deciding on a direction.

The changelings began to drag her into the ground. Valiance was exhausted and her vision tunneled to a pinpoint. Just when all hope was lost, a blinding light pierced through the skittering changelings, in the blink of an eye, their forms evaporated into dust. Through her helmet and darkening vision, she could faintly make out the silhouette of an ethereal equine. The large pony slowly came closer and closer before Valiance’s world went completely black.

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fuck-customers · 6 years

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hi guys! its been a while since my last submission. its 1/1/18 as of me submitting so i wanna wish a happy new year to my fellow retail workers! i hope those of you in wa state enjoy your new laws coming in to effect regarding accrued sick time and the wage going up again. (i think it does? correct me if im wrong) on a less happy note, though, a few days ago, i had my first Worst Customer experience. TW/CW below for homophobia, lesbophobia, transphobia, transmisogyny, and pedophilia. ff ive been scheduled down in lumber recently. this is fine, i like the routine of working down there. i get along well w the people i meet. mostly contractors and nicer older folks doing large scale and small scale home renovations. but every once in a while you get a total Dbag. mind you its been several months since ive felt uncomfortable with a male customer; most of the people in my area know better than to be gross. but... enter these two guys. older white men. kinda larger in structure (im not talking about weight i promise!) with graying hair and beards. both of them military customers. fsr military customers tend to be the crabbier ones, but i dont blame them honestly because a lot of them didnt have a choice in enlisting and i do believe they deserve credit and respect for what they went through. but these guys were just being dicks for the fun of it. im a small queer person. 20 years old, somewhere around 5'4"-5'5", slender, baby face, unintimidating. i have an unusual name and i tend to correct people when they call me a girl, because i know im small and have longer hair, usually just saying i prefer to be thought of as just a person. most people dont raise an eyebrow at this, they just kinda go quiet and leave it be. so these guys come in and hand me two reduced signs used for looking up cull packs they wanted to buy. for those who dont know, cull packs are basically sale estimates put together for damaged lumber. the damaged stuff gets pulled out of our racks when lumber associates are flatstacking and facing lumber, and the pro services cashiers band the lumber together, spray paint the ends so they cant be returned, mark them half price in our system, and print the estimates so the packs can be placed on our cull rack outside the lumber doors. i start off by politely informing them that because of how our system works, i can only sell them one of these estimates at a time, because you have to exit to order management and pull them up in order to sell them, and you cant pull up a second one once youre in the sales screen without clearing out the first one. they quickly though go to talking about me. i cant remember how it started, but after i thank one of them for their service and give them the discount, they start joking about how theyre confusing the cute girl or smth or how they like doing that to cute girls. my gut reaction was to politely correct them by saying "ahaha yeah i dont consider myself a girl though" and i remember repeating this at least one more time before giving up. the thing of it is though, one of them asks me "dont you remember me? we used to date in high school" as a joke and they both were making jokes about me liking older guys. i thought he was being serious at first but then i realized he was making an asshole of a joke. i stutter out that no, i actually have trauma surrounding that from bad past experiences, and i start to freak out because they basically just hit a huge trigger there and id never had to deal with being exposed to that at work before. i then mention in an attempt to get them to back off, that im living with my partner at home. i always, always, have used the word partner to describe my relationship in work settings because its vague and were both nonbinary and it raises less questions. my mistake though. they immediately go to asking me if im a lesbian, then saying theyre lesbians too, they like women. then one of them says "im a woman trapped in a mans body" and tries to rope a customer behind them into agreeing with them that he was a lesbian too and agreeing with the transphobic/transmisogynistic wording. at this point i completely shut down and ignore them, avoid eye contact, and finish selling their shitty discounted decking pieces to them without any more words than were absolutely necessary to the finishing of the transaction. and they were laughing about it too. laughing that they basically bullied a queer person into feeling so unsafe they completely shut down, as if it was some hilarious joke. i told my head cashier when she came down and she stressed to me that if they ever come back through my line, or if ANYONE ever does that to me again, that i call her immediately. she said shes willing to say things that may potentially get her fired. i wanted to cry hearing that from her, and im tearing up writing it rn too. i was shaky for about the next half hour and every time after that i talked about it or remembered it. so a huge, HUGE fuck customers. if you EVER think its okay to say this shit to anyone, particularly someone whose JOB it is to be courteous and helpful to you while they take your money, i hope you perish painfully in the fiery trenches of hell. never should anyone have to go through this homophobic, lesbophobic, transphobic, transmisogynistic, pedophilic garbage EVER. and if you see this shit happening, PLEASE speak up. defend them. call a manager. its scary to deal with alone, and you can get paralyzed in fear. lets leave these kinds of people to rot in 2018 and make them accountable for the things they say, please.

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dameedna · 4 years

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John Prine, a wry and perceptive writer whose songs often resembled vivid short stories, died Tuesday in Nashville from complications related to COVID-19. His death was confirmed by his publicist, on behalf of his family. He was 73 years old.

Prine was hospitalized last week after falling ill and put on a ventilator Saturday night, according to a statement from his family.

Music Features

John Prine's Songs Saw The Whole Of Us

Even as a young man, Prine — who famously worked as a mailman before turning to music full-time — wrote evocative songs that belied his age. With a conversational vocal approach, he quickly developed a reputation as a performer who empathized with his characters. His beloved 1971 self-titled debut features the aching "Hello In There," written from the perspective of a lonely elderly man who simply wants to be noticed, and the equally bittersweet "Angel From Montgomery." The latter song is narrated by a middle-aged woman with deep regrets over the way her life turned out, married to a man who's merely "another child that's grown old."

Bestowing dignity on the overlooked and marginalized was a common theme throughout Prine's career; he became known for detailed vignettes about ordinary people that illustrated larger truths about society. One of his signature songs, "Sam Stone," is an empathetic tale of a decorated veteran who overdoses because he has trouble readjusting to real life after the war. (Prine has said he based the protagonist around friends who were Vietnam War veterans, and also soldiers he encountered during his own two-year stint as an Army mechanic.)

Tiny Desk

John Prine: Tiny Desk Concert

Like "Sam Stone," many of Prine's songs also had an uncanny ability to address (if not predict) the societal and political zeitgeist. The understated 1984 song "Unwed Fathers" illustrates pernicious double standards pertaining to gender: The titular group "can't be bothered / They run like water, through a mountain stream," while the young women they impregnate are shamed and face consequences. Recorded for John Prine, "Your Flag Decal Won't Get You Into Heaven Anymore" criticizes people who use piety and patriotism as a cover for supporting an unjust war — a theme he'd revisit on 2005's "Some Humans Ain't Human," which pulls no punches slamming both hypocritical people and the Iraq War started by George W. Bush.

John Prine: In Memoriam

But like fellow songwriting iconoclast Shel Silverstein, Prine also cloaked his pointed commentary within whimsical wordplay. "Some Humans Ain't Human" claims that inside the heart of these turncoats is "a few frozen pizzas, some ice cubes with hair and a broken Popsicle," while "Dear Abby" has a lilting, rollicking rhythm to its verses, as it gently chides advice-column complainers to count their blessings. "Bruised Orange (Chain of Sorrow)" uses both absurdity (an altar boy struck by a train) and the mundane (a bench makeout) to encourage people to stay positive and have gratitude.

And "Christmas In Prison" boasts one of his best lyrics — "She reminds me of a chess game with someone I admire" — while embodying his quiet irreverence. "It's about a person being somewhere like a prison, in a situation they don't want to be in, and wishing they were somewhere else," he wrote in the liner notes to 1993's Great Days: The John Prine Anthology, adding that "I used all the imagery as if it were an actual prison. ... And being a sentimental guy, I put it at Christmas."

Prine was born on October 10, 1946, to parents with strong family ties to Paradise, Kentucky, a place that later served as the backdrop to "Paradise," his cautionary tale about a coal country town destroyed and discarded by corporate interests.

Raised in Maywood, a suburb of Chicago,, the young Prine devoured 45s from Buddy Holly, Johnny Cash and Little Richard, and soaked up the country music his father loved, such as Hank Williams Sr., Ernest Tubb and Roy Acuff. More crucially, Prine learned rudimentary guitar skills from his oldest brother, Dave, a folk fan who memorably gifted him a Carter Family LP. "I learned all those songs," he told NPR's Terry Gross in 2018. "And not too long after that, I started writing when I was 14. And my melodies always came out like old-timey country stuff." Around this time, Prine also started to learn finger-picking by playing songs by Elizabeth Cotten and Mississippi John Hurt, he added: "I'd sit in the closet in the dark in case I ever went blind, to see if I could play."

Although Prine also started taking guitar lessons at Chicago's Old Town School of Folk Music starting in fall 1963, he still wasn't considering pursuing music as a full-time career. In fact, he was working as a mailman and playing gigs at night on the side when a generous live review from critic Roger Ebert in late 1970 boosted his reputation in Chicago's nascent folk scene. A record deal with Atlantic Records came in early 1971, after then-executive Jerry Wexler saw Prine perform three songs during a Kris Kristofferson set at the Bottom Line in New York City.

John Prine, hanging out at Georgia State College in 1975.

Tom Hill/WireImage

Prine received a Grammy nomination for Best New Artist in 1972, on the strength of his debut, and started turning out records at a brisk pace for the rest of the 1970s. Almost immediately, his songs were covered by other artists: Bonnie Raitt did a version of "Angel From Montgomery" (as did John Denver and Tanya Tucker), while Bette Midler, Everly Brothers, Swamp Dogg and, later, the Highwaymen also recorded Prine-penned songs.

Being in the spotlight didn't come naturally. "I had a difficult time listening back to them because I was so nervous," he told Fresh Air about his early records. "I didn't expect to do this for a living, be a recording artist. I was just playing music for the fun of it and writing songs to ... that was kind of my escape, you know, from the humdrum of the world."

But Prine's early success allowed him to start approaching his career on his own terms. With manager Al Bunetta, he formed the independent label Oh Boy Records in 1981, launching it with a Christmas single, "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus." Prine slowed down his output in the '80s and '90s but expanded his sonic purview, co-writing "Jackie O" with John Cougar Mellencamp for the latter's hit 1983 LP Uh-Huh and collaborating with members of Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers for his 1991 album The Missing Years, which won a Grammy for Best Contemporary Folk Album. (Prine also won in the same category for 2005's Fair & Square.)

Starting in the mid-'90s, Prine also dealt with several serious health issues. He had a cancerous tumor in his neck removed in 1996, successfully beat lung cancer in 2013 and had a heart stent implanted in 2019. In 2018, he admitted to NPR's Terry Gross that his 1996 cancer surgery changed his voice.

"It dropped down lower, and it feels friendlier to me," he said. "So I can actually sit in the studio and listen to my singing play back. Before, I'd run the other way." He debuted his new voice — which did feel a bit rougher of comfort, like a rock swathed in moss — with 1999's In Spite of Ourselves, which featured duets on covers with female artists such as Iris DeMent, Patty Loveless and Lucinda Williams. He released a kindred-spirit sequel in 2016, For Better, or Worse, that also featured DeMent, in addition to duets with contemporary artists Miranda Lambert, Kacey Musgraves and Morgane Stapleton.

John Prine at the Edison Hotel in Times Square, 1999.

New York Daily News Archive/NY Daily News via Getty Images

Prine's career received another boost more recently, too, after his work was championed by modern Americana acts such as Jason Isbell and Amanda Shires — two artists with whom Prine collaborated — Sturgill Simpson and Margo Price. In 2019, he was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame, the year after releasing The Tree of Forgiveness, his first album of all-new original songs since Fair & Square. The album featured co-writes with Dan Auerbach and long-time foils Pat McLaughlin and Keith Sykes, and debuted at No. 5 on Billboard's Top 200.

The Tree of Forgiveness ends with a song called "When I Get to Heaven," a detailed look at what Prine said he intended to do after he dies: start a band, see dearly departed family members, order a cocktail, shake God's hand and encourage rampant forgiveness. (In a nod to his usual wry streak, he also said he'd enjoy a cigarette that's "nine miles long.") The lyrics are sentimental and freewheeling, making it clear that Prine planned to keep the good times going up in heaven. It's likely that the song was intended to be a winking bit of foreshadowing about his own mortality, although now, perhaps it's better interpreted as Prine providing a blueprint for how to live life with gusto while you're still here.

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therewillbebeauty · 7 years

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when we did not know the answer - dazatsu

Written for BSD Rarepair Week! Day three: Weapons//Pick-up Lines// “But once you start doubting, it’s hard to know what to believe.” - Tanizaki Junichirou, Naomi Summary: The five times Atsushi and Dazai doubted themselves, and the one time they didn’t.

He was worthless.

He was orphaned, abandoned by his parents.

No one cared about him.

It would be better for everyone if he would just die in a ditch somewhere.

Those thoughts had been drilled into his mind from day one. For as long as Atsushi could remember, he’d never thought he would amount to anything. He was just another hungry mouth to feed, just another sniveling brat who would never be adopted and would just drain the orphanage’s resources. He knew these things from the bottom of his heart.

Until he came face-to-face with the very real possibility that he was going to die.

That was when Atsushi made the choice to keep living, keep running, keep moving. To not let the ill wishes of everyone at the orphanage weigh him down. They were probably right, but so what? He would live, even if it meant stealing. He would live, even if it meant being a criminal. He would live.

And then he rescued a suicidal man from drowning, and the rest is history.

II.

Before there was Atsushi, there was Dazai.

There was the Dazai who stumbled through the streets and the gutters and slept in boxes and alleyways, and there was the Dazai who one day found himself with a job and a place to sleep and three square meals a day if only he would point a gun at someone’s head and pull the trigger. He would receive new life if only he would take the lives of others.

When Dazai was old enough to understand what he had done, and to comprehend that each and every mutilated body left on the floor of a warehouse with three bullets in their backs and a broken jaw was a person, and that those people had families and lovers and jobs and friends and that he had casually stolen that away, he thought it was kind of like stealing. In order for him to live, others had to die.

He smiled to himself and patted the gun in his coat pocket. It was a good thing that he was in the mafia, where stealing was the name of the game.

Years later, after the death of his dearest friend Oda Sakunosuke, Dazai would look back on his actions with remorse instead of a twisted sense of irony, and wonder if there was a way for him to live peacefully, without taking any more lives.

And then one night, when his partner was sleeping soundly beside him, unaware, Dazai smoothed Chuuya’s red hair against the pillow, and carefully snipped off a russet lock, just large enough to be noticeable and ruin Chuuya’s haircut. And then he left, and the rest is history.

III.

Atsushi couldn’t do this. This whole ‘detective’ thing was way out of his league. First week on the job, and he’d already stopped a (fake) suicide bomber, watched Ranpo-san solve a murder mystery, and watched Kenji beat the thugs from that gang to within an inch of their lives.

Atsushi sighed, and let his head hit his desk. No one batted an eye; they simply carried on with their paperwork.

He couldn’t do this. He was too normal for this crap. He’d never be any use in a fight. Not when he could still barely control his ability, not when he couldn’t stop shaking in the face of danger, not when he didn’t know anything about fighting, not when the words of the headmaster still echoed in his mind at night—

You are worthless. You were orphaned, abandoned by your parents. No one cares about you. It would be better for everyone if you would just die in a ditch somewhere—

And then he and the rest of the Armed Detective Agency stopped F. Scott Fitzgerald and the Guild, and then Fyodor Dostoyevsky, and then the Port Mafia. And then the team went out on picnics, and out to eat, and out to get drunk, and out for the sole purpose of being together as friends. And Atsushi, for the first time in his life, was part of something larger than a loose collective of children bound by hate and mutual suffering. He was part of a team, a group. A family, if you will.

And for the first time in his life, as Dazai poked his cheek while he attempted to file the paperwork for their latest mission, he thought that maybe the headmaster might have been wrong.

IV.

There were times when Dazai would lie awake at night, unable to rest. Sleep was attainable, but his dreams were filled with his days at the Mafia, full of bloodshed and violence and death and loss and—

Dazai rolled onto his other side and pulled his locket out of his pocket.

The locket itself was nothing special, just a trinket he’d picked up at a yard sale. He thought it would be romantic, and anyways, he needed something to carry its contents. No, the locket was just a tool, a container, a vessel for the treasure inside: that very lock of russet hair stolen from the head of his sleeping partner two years ago, in the inky cover of night.

At times when Dazai couldn’t sleep for the pain, he normally pulled the locket out of his pocket and gripped it in his palm until the rusted bit of the chain poked into his skin and drew blood. Normally, he would plead to whatever deity was listening to give him the speed, the strength, the talent, the time to go back and fix everything. To care for Chuuya until he could make it back and rescue his partner from the life of death and destruction that he had managed to escape. To aid him in his selfish quest of saving just the one person who had mattered most to him.

But tonight, Dazai didn’t pray. He cradled the metal locket loosely in his palm, marveling at the intricacy of the design on the front. Then, as if in a trance, he rose from his bed and walked over to his window. The moon shone brightly in the night sky as he pulled open the window and dropped the locket outside.

It was a cold night; he shivered in his thin pajamas as he closed the window.

He would regret the rashness of his actions for weeks to come, but eventually the bitterness and remorse would subside, and he would wonder why he ever grieved over that stupid curio and the red hair trapped inside in the first place.

Atsushi couldn’t honestly say he hadn’t dreamed about this: being loved enough to one day have someone get down on one knee and ask for his hand in marriage, or loving enough to do the same to someone else.

He just couldn’t believe that it would ever be anything more than one of his wildest fantasies.

But there Dazai was, kneeling on the cold tile floor of the Agency in broad daylight, in view of every Agency member currently clocked in, holding a simple silver band in one hand and Atsushi’s wrist in his other.

Atsushi nearly passed out right then and there.

His head was reeling. Dazai had barged in late, as usual, with a shopping bag in tow. “Sorry I’m late, everyone!” he had exclaimed cheerfully, prompting Kunikida to grit his teeth in annoyance. “I had an errand to run. Had to pick something up!” He fished around in the bag and then dropped down right in front of Atsushi, shit-eating grin plastered across his whole face. “Oh, come on, Kunikida-kun! I can hardly ask Atsushi to marry me without a ring, can I?”

And Atsushi couldn’t tell whether he wanted to laugh or cry.

Why would Dazai propose out to him out of the blue like this? They weren’t even dating or anything! This had to be a joke.

He settled for both at the same time.

The Agency members watched with concern as their coworker broke down into a sobbing, cackling mess on the floor. “This prank isn’t funny, Dazai-san,” he gasped, “but, at the same time, this caught me pretty off-guard! So A-plus for you!”

He wiped his tears and mucus on the sleeve of his shirt; maybe that wasn’t the best choice, since it was white and all. “But really, you should be more responsible, Dazai-san. I know that rings aren’t cheap, and you really shouldn’t blow so much cash on a simple prank like this.” He wiped his eyes again and smiled. “Now, come on. We have to go return that thing before anything happens to it, or you won’t get your money back!”

He stood, and walked past Dazai towards the door. Dazai’s hand reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Where are you going, Atsushi-kun? Why do I have to return the ring?”

Atsushi looked back at Dazai’s face in disbelief. He looked almost … disappointed? “Because you can’t just drop over four hundred thousand yen on a joke, Dazai-san. I just told you?”

“Who said it was a joke?” Dazai countered.

And that was when Atsushi nearly fainted.

VI.

Dazai looked stunning, but he always looked stunning, no matter what he wore. His wedding suit was no exception; charcoal gray, punctuated by the pink carnation pinned in his lapel, custom tailored and imported from France, a wedding gift from Chuuya. He’d actually bought all of the wedding party’s suits as his gift, claiming that Dazai would ruin the ceremony by choosing something tacky and Atsushi didn’t have the knowledge or money to pick something truly exquisite. Dazai had protested that Chuuya’s taste certainly couldn’t be trusted either, but Atsushi had been grateful for the help. He had been lost.

To be honest, he had been lost for most of the wedding planning phase. What did he know about venues, or cake, or balancing guest lists so that no one died during the ceremony? Kunikida and Yosano had been lifesavers in the whole planning process, and for that he would be eternally grateful.

Actually, everyone at the Agency had come together to make this wedding a success. When he asked Naomi about it, she’d squealed, “Because we’ve been waiting forever for you two to get together! Plus, Dazai’s spontaneous proposal was totally romantic!”

Atsushi certainly hadn’t found it romantic at the time, but he looked back on it fondly.

“Who said it was a joke?”

Atsushi was speechless.

Dazai stood up. “Atsushi-kun, we’ve basically been dating for years, and that’s all the proof that I need to convince myself that this is a good idea. I love you, and I want you to marry me. If you will, of course.” He held up the simple silver band. “Well? What do you say?”

Atsushi burst out crying for the second time.

A hand ruffled his hair. Atsushi blinked. Dazai was standing in front of him, smiling ear to ear. “Spacing out? What, were you distracted by my beauty?”

Atsushi spluttered. “No way! I was just—”

“Honestly, Atsushi,” Dazai interrupted, “We’re getting married today. There’s no harm in thinking I’m attractive! The only problem with that sentiment is, of course, that your beauty puts mine to shame, but that just means that our kids will be super-cute!”

Atsushi swatted his fiancé’s hand away. “Osamu, we’re both male.”

Dazai gave a dramatic sigh. “Oh, well. I guess our good genes will just be wasted, then. What a shame.” He smoothed Atsushi’s suit jacket (white, to contrast with Dazai’s, and also because Dazai insisted that it wasn’t a wedding without a bride, but there were two boys being married and so Atsushi would just have to do!) down and exhaled loudly. “Well! Are you ready?” He held out a hand.

Atsushi grasped it tightly. “Of course I am.”

As they walked out into the little church where the ceremony was to be held, there was no doubt in their hearts this time. This was where they were meant to be.

#bsd-rarepairweek #day 3

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onehaleofanadventure · 7 years

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Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings ApplyCategory: M/M Fandoms: DCU, Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics) Relationship: Tim Drake/Jason Todd

Summary:

Tim really should've seen this coming. Although the not-so-nice merman and his anger were a surprise.

Mermaids and Mermen once ruled all the lands, taking the seas and oceans as prizes that the humans were not allowed to touch. Thousands of years later, man bound together to end mer-tyranny and take back the waterways that made life easier. The first years of the war decimated the humans, only having survived through sheer numbers: humans outnumbered the mer a thousand to one.

However, there were mer who also fell in those first years. The humans, inquisitive as they are, collected to fallen mer, and those who were too weak and injured to return to the water. Through intensive study, the humans learn several things about the merpeople. First, even in death, they were all beautiful beyond reason; second, their webbed hands ended in large, sharp talon-like claws that could easily rend a man to pieces in a matter of seconds; and third, they had two sets on teeth, one normal and blunt like humans, and another set of razor sharp, needle-like teeth meant to cut through bone like butter.

They also learned about the differences between a mermaid and a merman. Merpeople were inherently both sexless, possessing—though hiding—the anatomical characteristics of males and females. However, the human's study showed the mermen were larger, strong and capable of changing their tail and fins for legs and feet, where they could fight and win on the land. Mermaids were characterized as being thinner and more delicate looking, with longer claws and were able to become sirens by luring men—through their angelic singing—to a water death and then consuming them.

They even deduced how best to kill the creatures: using the claws and teeth of their dead against them. Their studies evened the war, but because the humans outnumbered the merpeople, the mer were driven to the depths of the oceans after being hunted almost to extinction.

Now, nearly a century after the humans declared victory against the once great merpeople, a live mer is considered a great treasure, only to be had by the best of pirate captains. Though, there are rumors of a band of once great pirates who fell in love with their mer prize and disappeared into the water, thus, the pursuit of a mer is only to be taken up by the strong willed or most cruel.

-------

Timothy Drake is the captain of the fearsome Robin, known for its speed and the brutal efficiency of its master. His first mate is one Richard Grayson, an orphaned gypsy man who was taken in at a young age by the previous captain of the Robin, Bruce "The Unseen" Wayne, known for sneaking up on ships in the dead of night and pillaging them before their crew had the chance to fight back. Timothy himself had been taken in by the menacing man after a dispute between Captain Wayne and Timothy's father Capitan Drake had left Timothy orphan at a young age.

Richard was an excellent crew member, expected to be the next captain, but he refused when Captain Wayne set off with his treasure. Even still, Captain Drake tried to do right by his friend, even going so far as to accept the infuriating, insubordinate leech that is Damian al Ghul, the once prize heir of the al Ghul naval fleet, when Richard requested permission for him to board.

In hind sight, it should not have been a surprise. Ever since Damian showed up, he refused to take orders from Tim, challenging him, trying to make him appear weak in front of the rest of the crew. What Timothy will never understand is why Richard helped with such a betrayal.

-----

It was stormy night, the water choppy and jarring. A bad omen for any captain; all the more reason to lock your door and make a show of force come morning, after all, no one would try anything or risk being left in the water. Normally, no pirate would truly fear such a threat, self-confident enough to believe they could make it to the nearest island.

However, the island in question is one that no pirate—no person, whoever they may be—would encroach upon. This particular island, only about two klicks away, was said to house the fearsome Deadly Hunt, a mythic merman. The Deadly Hunt was infamous for his brutality, said to be twice the size of the average merman—who are already much larger than humans—with the strength of ten men and the temper to match. Every ship who has passed too close to the island has sunk, with only floating and detritus the odd body part here and there to tell the story of the fallen.

Most ships avoided the area, uncertain of how far out the hunter would travel from his island for a fresh meal of man. In fact, The Robin was only so close because of a failing on the part of his First Mate during the worst part of the storm that made the water so harsh.

Captain Drake was headed off to his quarters since the worst of the storm was behind them and the still cloudy sky was losing the faint glow of the sun. As he opened the door to his quarters, Damian appeared, slamming his hand over wood, causing an eerie groan to roll through the deck. The fight was embarrassingly short after Damian pulled out his pistol. A few shots going wide, hitting the water or splintering pieces of the deck and knocking them into the churning black depth below. The last thing Timothy remember is Richard behind him, apologize and the a forceful blow and swirling black.

Captain Drake—well now only Timothy—loses time, dragging himself to consciousness long enough to grab the deck railing floating nearby. He swears he catches a glimpse of a sleek, dark shape in the water and a fin in the distance, but he can no longer hold onto consciousness.

Timothy wakes up some time later, half buried in the sand, head throbbing from the crack to his skull, with a headache only worsened from the bright glare of the hot sun beating down on the water. He digs himself out of the sand with care, mind slow, but still working out a plan for survival and escape when feasible.

Inland, there are trees for shelter, which also hit at some sort of fresh water. However, there is also likely to be predators, and if the Deadly Hunt is real, he would probably be near whatever water source—if any—leads directly to the ocean. The broken masts and rotting remains of decks that can be seen around the jagged rocks just off shore support the possibility of the Deadly Hunt being real. Or at least some sort of deadly water-based predator with enough intelligence and strength to destroy an old warship—judging by the size and shape of the most prominent mast.

Timothy has just managed to drag himself to the cover of a palm tree when he hears a growling noise—human, but deep and threatening—behind him. “Get the fuck off my island.” The voice demands. “I don’t take kindly to your kind, human.”

Stiff and stoically hiding his fear, Timothy turns to face a very—attractive—angry man. Tall, over six foot, broad and thick, dark hair and light eyes, toned and tanned with a patchwork of thin white scars. Timothy jolts at the renewed growling, trying not to cower from the bared teeth and the growing snarl. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Timothy notes the blood gushing from a hole in the man’s leg—he stands precariously balanced to look menacing without putting too much pressure on it; Timothy is also mentally impressed at the man’s ability to move so quietly when he must be limping badly—and the hand, covered in blood, clutching at his side.

“Are you an unfortunate, human? A waste of space and time? Is that why you were thrown overboard as my next meal?” The man snarl as if accusations, despite being phrased as questions.

Timothy’s brain seems to finally catch up with what the man—the merman!—is saying. “You’re the Deadly Hunt. You’re real?” he breathes, equal parts wonder and skepticism.

“Is that what the humans are calling me now,” the Hunter smirks, “you couldn’t come up with something better than that?”

“You’re giving me the chance to leave? I thought you killed everyone who came too close to your island?” Timothy questions, silently cursing himself for reminding the vicious predator of his reputation rather than accepting his generosity and leaving.

The merman snorted a laugh, “Lucky for you, I’m not hungry. I’m sure the sharks will get to you before anyone else.” With that said, the merman spun on the heel of his good leg and began walking—rather well for someone with a pistol shot to one leg—farther inland.

Timothy scrambled to his feet, ignored how it made his head start throbbing again. “Wait!” he called. “I don’t want to be eaten by shark. I can…umm” The arched eyebrow he got on response was both a disconcertingly human reaction and terrifying. “I can help with that—those. I can patch you up.”

In the blink of an eye, the merman hand a hand around Timothy’s throat, squeezing lightly, with teeth only a breath away from his face. “And why,” he growled, “pray tell, would I let you, human, anywhere near my wounds. Especially,” he shoved Timothy harder into the tree trunk and squeezing harder, “when this is your fault, Captain Drake.”

“I’m not—“ Timothy choked. “Not Captain… Anymore.”

The merman barked out a harsh laugh. “Mutiny aboard your ship caused this. I really should feed you to the sharks.” He hummed. “Maybe I’ll tear you to pieces for the little fish to eat.”

Tim wouldn’t call them friend exactly, but he’s still in one piece and the merman only threatens his every few days. It’s been months and it seems the only way off this island safely would be the merman, if one could count that as safe.

It’s been nearly a month, and Tim—as he had requested to be called, now that he’s no longer a marauder deserving of respect—has warmed up to the merman.

“So,” Tim says carefully, checking the makeshift bandages wrapping the merman’s leg, “you never did tell me what you call you.”

The merman growls, rolling his eyes. “I don’t have one of your human names. You are undeserving of knowing, let alone speaking my true name—“

“And if I call you the Deadly Hunt one more time, I’ll wake up missing an important part of my anatomy. I know. Although, I’m starting to not believe you. I thought a merman would want to be in mer form. Wouldn’t it be better for the gunshot if you didn’t have legs. Also, does that mean I get to name you?”

The merman—Tim is thinking Jacob or Jordan—snarls at being interrupted. “My tail, while infinitely more muscular and powerful, would be more difficult to heal because of the location of the wound. There would be significant tissue damage that is avoided by having the wound heal on the inner thigh of a leg rather than the center of my tail.”

“I’m thinking I’ll dub you Jason. Wait. Are you telling me you can’t transform!” Tim shrieks.

Jason growls, deeper and more terrifying than he has been in a couple weeks. “I can transform! It would simplly be unwise. But I do not need my tail to rip you to shreds, human!”

“Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you. Just wanted to know more about you. I mean, we’re stranded on this island, might as well be friends.” Tim sighed.

“We” Jason says, motioning with a claw tipped finger—a sure sign Tim has pissed him off if his body is prepping for a fight —between himself and Tim, “are not friends.” Tim can see how well he’s healed from the lack of tension in Jason’s body as he marches off to wherever he goes.

“So,” Tim starts, feet dangling, toes just brushing the surface of the lake, causing small ripples that he intently watches crash into Jason’s naked torso, “you’re all better. Transforming and everything. Guess that means it’s time to part ways.”

Jason hums softly from where he’s laying half-in half-out of the water, warming in the sun, head pillowed on his hands. “This is my island. I’m not giving it to you.”

“I know. Just… you always say that you are going to get rid of me the first chance you get. And now you can take me away.” Tim was irrationally sad that Jason hadn’t asked him to stay—not that he could, it’s been nearly three months, people had to be worried. Not to mention, Damian and Dick had to be punished for how they wronged Tim.

“I’ve been trying to get rid of you for months and now you want me to be your glorified boat. How undignified.” Tim could see his face, but he could imagine Jason’s special brand of amused disgust, that tone and face have been pointed at him often enough.

“Well, I haven’t changed my mind about being eaten by sharks, so…”

Jason cracked once sea-foam green eye to look at Tim. “I guess. I can’t exactly let my—“

Tim smiled. “Say it!”

“—friend get eaten, or drown because he doesn’t swim well.”

“Gee, thanks Jay. And I’ll have you know, I’m a great swimmer.” That got both those beautiful eyes, and that handsome face pointed in his direction. The quirked eyebrow though… “You’re half fish. That’s not even a fair comparison.”

Jason snorted a laugh, returning his head to its previous position “Fine. We’ll leave tomorrow. I’m quite comfortable right now.”

Tim smiled softly, somewhat sad. He’d miss Jason. They would probably never see each other again.

It’s been almost six months since Jason dropped Tim of in the water just off shore of the first populated land they found. Tim—Captain Drake once again—misses him dearly. It’s irrational. They are completely different species, both male—well Jason is as male a merpeople get, anyway—and they only became friends, reluctantly on Jason’s part, because they were stuck on an island together.

Tim thinks he might have fallen in love on that island. But that makes no sense: you can barely forge a good friendship in that short of time, you can’t fall in love. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

It only takes Tim another two months to finish implementing his plan. Damian and Dick go down hard, losing all respect—pirate and military alike.

The first thing Tim does, after watching Damian and Dick go down in flames, is take back his ship. Second, he picks up a few friends—Steph and Cass, two terrifying women spurned by society for their relationship; Bart, a restless and clumsy, but incredibly loyal friend; and Connor and Cassie, amazing friends rumored to be half mer, though that is said to be biologically impossible. And third, set a course for his new home: the one island no human is stupid enough to set foot on.

The voyage takes longer than Tim remembers. However, it’s nice to be on the water again, even better to have a crew be trust to have his back.

When they finally reach there destination, they set anchor and Tim rows to shore alone. The island is just as big and beautiful as he remembers, but he’s looking for something more amazing at the moment.

“I thought I told you to get off my island, Captain Drake.”

Tim simultaneously jumps and turns, only stumbling a little, and not at all surprised Jason snuck up on him and is caught up on current events. Tim allows himself to stare at Jason’s ridiculously beautiful, smirking face for about two second before he lunges. Tm wraps his arms around Jason necks, molds himself to Jason’s scarcely clad body and kisses him with nearly a years worth of pent up passion. Tim sighs softly and breaks the kiss only when Jason chuckles and rests his own hands on Tim’s waist.

#JayTimweek #JayTim week: vde #JayTim Week: Valentine's Edition #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Mermaid/men #Pirates!#Day 3: Enemies to Friends/Friends to Lovers #Enemies to Friends to Lovers

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wonwoomi · 7 years

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SILENT NIGHT.

📅 23RD DECEMBER, 2016.

( tw !! death, graveyards, death threats, murder, suicide, child abuse, child neglect, strangulation, starvation, funerals, violence )

there’s a distinct bitterness to the winter air tonight. this close to christmas, wonwoo wouldn’t ordinarily be anywhere besides bed, but after finding himself with empty pockets at the beginning of december, overtime had to become the norm in order to afford his favourite holiday. the days become longer — at least, it feels that way — the nights shorter, and he longs for five more minutes every morning to stay where he belongs and craves to be, tangled up between sheets and warm limbs, room barely lit because even the sun isn’t awake yet— why must I be?

the change in direction is almost automatic; he barely has to think about the site before his feet are already carrying him there, steps careful against icy pavements. the open gates invite him in, familiar sight of one particular gravestone almost comforting at this point. he sits down before it, reaches out to throw away a few fallen leaves littering the display. “don’t say I don’t take good care of you, asshole.” he mumbles, drying his fingers on his jeans. they’re already soaked, after all. he should’ve known he’d get his ass wet plonking it down on the grass in the middle of winter, but it doesn’t matter. he can just throw them in the wash when he gets home, whenever that will be. he doesn’t plan to stay long, but god knows he gets talkative in the presence of his oldest brother.

“jeongwoo, jeongwoo, jeongwoo. can you believe it’s just passed three years since you left this world?” he brushes his hair back with slender fingers, laughs quietly. “three blissful years.” a long breath is drawn in, sighed out. “you probably hate when I visit; all I talk about is how dead you are, but I can’t help it— it brings me so much joy.” a plant pot sits upon the gravel, in the same spot as always. this time, it’s zinnias, white, and wonwoo runs his thumb over a few petals, one by one, and smiles. “life is really good right now, like— I thought there was nothing more satisfying, more pleasurable, than watching the life drain out of your eyes, but this, oh man— everything I dreamed of as a child... it’s all coming true. I have everything I’ve ever wanted—” he’s cut off by happiness. it overwhelms him in the best way, warm giggles bubbling up his throat and spilling out from chapped lips. he thinks of mingyu at home, curling up together under the covers for the night, taking an extra half an hour to fall asleep because kissing, pressing cold hands against warm skin and vice versa, are far more important.

he doesn’t think anything can really wipe the lovestruck grin off his face. he doesn’t really consider the possibility of anyone.

“w-won-wonwoo?”

his bones click as he twists, a soft hiss leaving his lips both at the stinging pain and the sight in front of him. the older’s build has always been larger than his — whose isn’t — and whilst very little (and certainly not any of them), scares wonwoo, he is at least glad it’s this bastard and not the other one. (he bitterly notes that he should’ve killed all of them, but he knows it wouldn’t have felt nearly as satisfying as just the one.)

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” fair. wonwoo grunts, massaging the back of his neck with numb, frozen fingers. “you—.”

“are you going to sit down, or are you going to fucking stand there and pretend you don’t have a million dumb ass things you want to say to me?”

silently, he sits. wonwoo can tell he’d given the gap between them a lot of thought, shifting his weight between each foot before deciding he was a ‘safe distance’ away from the youngest jeon. he hits the ground with a soft thud, and collects his hands together in front of him, nervously rubbing his thumbs against one another. on the flipside, wonwoo slouches comfortably, arms stretching above his head to will away a little fatigue.

“this is weird.”

wonwoo scoffs, “three years and you haven’t gained even a shred of maturity; incredible, hyunwoo. I commend you.”

“three years and you haven’t gained even a shred of manners; inc—”

“you really make this far too fucking easy for me.” interrupting him feels natural, an action a younger wonwoo would have been met with a hard punch for. hyunwoo twitches, and wonwoo muses that old habits die hard and smiles smugly as shaky fingers retreat. “how does it feel knowing I’m right here? right here in front of you, arms length away, and you can’t lay a finger on me? I can understand now, why you loved to hurt me. pain, suffering... they’re so fulfilling.”

hyunwoo swallows hard. “I’m not going to touch you; you can fucking breathe. don’t ruin everything I worked for by forgetting to breathe and killing yourself, you piece of shit.”

“you’re the real scum here, you know that?” the older’s words are laced with venom, but wonwoo’s dealt with poison far too much by now for it to make any difference to him. instead, he laughs wholeheartedly, head thrown back in delight, eyes twinkling.

“wow, you got me. I don’t know how I sleep at night knowing that I’m scum — you’re such a fucking wet paper towel. I think it’s clear who the real disappointment to the jeon family is here. swear at me, asshole. how can you spend fifteen years pummelling me and then sit here, unable to say the word ‘shit’ to my face without cowering? are you really that scared of me?” the other says nothing else, but the silence speaks for itself. it’s broken by more laughter, the kind that crinkles wonwoo’s nose ever so slightly, and that has his hand reaching up to cover his grin. “fucking hell. life just keeps getting better and better. alright. lay it on me. ask me why I’m here.”

he hesitates, but eventually sighs, forcing out through gritted teeth, “what are you doing here, wonwoo?”

“why! that’s an excellent question, hyunwoo, I’m glad you asked— I am here to talk to the jeon’s little star, their pride and joy, golden boy jeon jeongwoo! loved by all!”

“you’re still bitter after all these years? he’s gone— because of you, and you’re still hung up on the fact that you could never be their favourite?” once wonwoo meets his eyes, it’s easy to tell that he regrets ever opening his mouth, but wonwoo only raises an eyebrow. it’s almost reassuring to see him bark a little, instead of sit with his tail between his legs.

“if you think I give two shits about being the favourite son, then you really are as fucking stupid as I remember.” it’s hyunwoo’s turn to grunt, and wonwoo matches it with an ungentlemanly snort. “I didn’t deserve the treatment I got, but jeongwoo being the favourite had no effect on that. they could’ve still loved him the most and not neglected me until I starved half to death and beat me until my skin was more purple than anything else. all of you could.” he sucks in a sharp breath, leaning back on his hands until he remembers the moisture in the ground, shuffling to arch his back instead, wiping his palms on his jeans once more.

“you think I regret anything I did after what you did?”

“no,” wonwoo answers, smoothly, without a moment of hesitation, “and I don’t regret anything you did either, because I am a billion times better off now than I could ever have been if you hadn’t all turned out to be vile scum — yes, I’m mocking you.” the older tuts, and wonwoo laughs, soft, breathy. “I still hate you, by the way. just because I don’t have my hands around your neck doesn’t mean I don’t still think you deserve to die. I just think that that would be too easy. being alive is far more insufferable. knowing you’re all out there, suffering, missing him— you wouldn’t believe the satisfaction it gives me. karma is a bitch.”

hyunwoo clicks his tongue, wriggling a little further away. his eyes widen as wonwoo reaches out to the stone, breath held as the younger traces his fingers over the death date.

“you know, the funeral was the first time — that I can remember, at least — that those two bastards didn’t go all out for jeongwoo. I was expecting them to invite the whole city to mourn with them, with fucking-- horses delivering the coffin and a fucking brass band or something.”

“mother wanted to grieve alone—”

“oh, please, don’t be fucking stupid. that bitch loved to be drowned in attention. she was fucking embarrassed because she knew she was responsible for what happened. she killed her golden boy. the both of them did. you did. seungwoo did.”

“you did this.”

“you did this,” he counters, long finger pointed firmly at himself, “and you’re naive to think otherwise.”

the silence between them is almost stifling. wonwoo tugs at grass, sprinkles it back down to the ground absentmindedly as he stares at the night sky. how long have I been here now? mingyu is probably worried. his ass and the back of his legs are soaked through to the bone, and a shiver wracks his body as he breathes out heavily.

“you gonna tell anyone what you saw here today?” he asks softly. he’s not worried if he does. after all, this interaction has only proved that his birth family are still petrified of him despite three long years passing. he’s more curious than anything else.

“no.” hyunwoo pauses, “I don't know what you're capable of doing to me if I do. you said you wouldn’t kill me, and I don’t know if I can trust that, but even so, I dread to think what you could do to me alive, still.”

“oh, the things I could do.” he draws in a deep breath, bright smile playing on his lips. “don't tell anyone about this,” he picks up the small flower pot and cradles it between his hands, “either. I take it the bitch buys them.”

“mother buys them.” he answers firmly.

“she has good taste in flowers, at least. these are zinnias— a member of the daisy family. in white, they mean ‘pure goodness’, which is ironic as hell, actually.”

“jeongwoo wasn’t a bad person. neither am I. neither was seungwoo, mother, father—”

“oh, fucking spare me, hyunwoo!.” he groans, finally losing the temper he’d done his best to repair over the past month. it’s been a while since he felt this much rage— since the day mingyu burnt himself, actually. he flinches at the memory as his fingernails dig into his palms. “you all spent seventeen years beating me almost to death, leaving me locked in a room filled with reminders that you never wanted me— you kept me around just so you’d have someone, something, to blame for all the shit that went wrong in your lives. you kept me around for your own entertainment, to fuel your egos and to feel powerful. good people don’t fucking do that. I’m not a good person either; I never claimed to be, but you can’t possibly sit there and tell me you, them— child abusers and power hungry fools — are good people.”

“you deserved it.”

“do you want me to fucking bury you right here next to him? hell, I’ll put you in the coffin with him. don’t fucking test me.” hyunwoo gulps once more. “I don’t know why I’m wasting my time here with you. it’s like talking to a fucking brick wall— I dread to think what talking to seungwoo is like nowadays. although, he was always the smarter one, and even then, ‘smart’ is generous.” he begs his anger to subside, takes even breaths and thinks of the things he loves; mingyu, noodles, sleeping, and it works, at least enough that he doesn’t scream when the older opens his mouth again.

“you still haven’t told me exactly why you’re here.”

“I like talking to him.” he admits. it’s not difficult; wonwoo has no shame, no regrets. hyunwoo clearly hadn’t changed, still believed that being a mistake meant he deserved to suffer, so wonwoo wouldn’t be anything but brutally honest, too. “I have a lot of difficulties managing my anger, and being able to freely express my hatred and my worries, and to tell jeongwoo how fucking beautiful my life has been ever since he fucked off to hell is really, really satisfying.”

“I hope you pay for the things you’ve done to our family. I hope one day karma finally catches up to you— for ruining our reputation, for wasting our time, and our efforts, for—”

wonwoo shakes his head. “I won’t pay — not anymore. you did a great job of making sure I paid when I was young. now it’s my turn to live. it’s my turn to put you assholes behind me and live my life the way I want to; to be more than the mistake you never wanted. and it’s your turn to move on. it’s time to accept your losses — I’ve accepted mine — and get on with your lives.”

“you—”

“no.” he interrupts sternly. “I’ve been paid. you made sure I regretted ever being born, and I did. I hated myself so much, believing that it was my fault I ever existed. the most dangerous parts of me blossomed in the darkness, and I became the man I am today — the man I’m proud to be. I’m glad you beat me, even if I didn’t deserve it. I accept my punishment. it’s about time you accepted yours. losing jeongwoo made us even. now it’s time to get on with our lives. we parted ways three years ago, and I shouldn’t have sought solace in a place I knew you could find me, and for that, I’m sorry.” he can’t pinpoint where it’s come from, but slowly, his body begins to tremble and his heart begins to race, and he can feel all the hits on his skin all over again. facing this, talking about the past with someone who was part of it isn’t as easy as he expected it to be — as he’d been making it look. he tightens his grip on the plant pot, moves to rise to his feet, but doesn’t quite push himself up just yet. “I won’t be coming back here again, so the bitch can sleep easy knowing no more of her plants are going to disappear. it’s good to see you again, to be reminded why I could never regret what I did. thanks for being the shittiest brothers in the world. without you, I wouldn’t have the life I have now, and I can’t think of any reality where I could be any happier. I hope one day you can find a little happiness, too — just... not until you’re like eighty or something; I still want to you to suffer for a long time yet, even if I don’t care to be around to see it.” he hums, standing up. dizziness hits for a moment, and he rubs his temples gently to keep it at bay. “fuck, I’m getting a headache.”

“I hope you ge—”

“yeah, yeah, I know. you hope I die, or some shit. don’t worry. one day, I will, just not for a very long time. I have things to live for now. you should find some of those, too, instead of living bitterly in the past.” he turns away, ready to leave, patting down his jeans until they hang a little better on his thin legs. “goodnight, hyunwoo. I hope I never see your ugly face ever again unless it’s in the obituary in the local paper. don’t tell anyone I was here or I will stuff you all into jeongwoo’s coffin. that’s a promise.” (and god knows wonwoo never breaks his promises.)

warmth fills his body the moment he steps through the apartment door, and he’s kicking his shoes off when he feels familiar, warm hands on his pink cheeks, concern etched on the older’s soft features. it’s easy to tell, at least to mingyu, that something isn’t right with the smaller, and it’s not long before they’re tucked in a cocoon of blankets on the sofa, wonwoo’s ear against mingyu’s chest, matching his breathing to the rhythmic thump of his boyfriend’s heartbeat.

“I’ve been visiting jeongwoo’s grave since last summer.” he mumbles in the silence, “I saw hyunwoo there today. he... hasn’t changed. none of them have.” mingyu’s right thumb rubs against wonwoo’s back, his left hand buried in his hair, massaging gently. wonwoo’s far past the shakiness, slight panic even, that he’d felt as he realised it was time to leave — how couldn’t he be when he is right where he feels safest, held in a way that makes him feel most content? “he told me I deserved everything they did. he didn’t say much else. I tried to... tell him the truth. make him see that what he did to me wasn’t right, wasn’t fair, but he didn’t listen. and the longer I stuck around, the more I realised that all this time, I hadn’t had any closure. I felt like I had achieved what I wanted in the long run, but I had no proof. but seeing that he hadn’t changed, that they still suffer every day just like they have since the day I was born, gave me that. but also... seeing him was difficult. I didn’t make it known, because I want him to continue to fear me— I want them to stay away from me, but it reminded me of how it felt to spend such long hours feeling nothing but the numbness inside growing with every fist that made impact and—” he sighs contently, unable to do anything else when mingyu starts pressing kisses all over his face, lingering ones meeting his nose and the centre of his forehead.

“you’re safe now.”

“of course I am. my big, strong boyfriend wouldn’t dare let anything happen to me.” he smiles, wriggling to shyly tuck his nose into mingyu’s neck to hide the way it crinkles. “I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. also, all those flowers that I kept bringing home were off his grave— the zinnias I brought home today, too.”

“wonwoo.”

“what? they’re pretty!”

#ww.solo #ww.family #( just to be safe; please do not read if anything related to any of the listed triggers upsets you! )#( I tried to cover everything but just to be safe ♥ )#( ily all ♥ )#tw: death #tw: graves #tw: graveyards #tw: death threats #tw: murder #tw: suicide #tw: child abuse #tw: child neglect #tw: strangulation #tw: strangling #tw: starvation #tw: funerals #tw: violence #( wc; 3102 )

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unixcommerce · 4 years

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Robin Bordoli of NextRoll: B2B Buyers Spend 83% of Their Time in Buying Journey not Engaging with Vendors

One of the most dramatic, eye-opening data points I’ve seen lately comes from a recent Marketplace Pulse article suggesting ecommerce has seen a 44.5% increase over the past quarter in the US.

As impressive as 44.5% of growth sounds, it pales in comparison to seeing it in graphical form. And, as Marketplace Pulse points out, that’s the fastest increase in over two decades, pushing e-commerce share of total retail to 16.1%. And for even more drama, if you take out auto sales and bar/restaurant revenue, online sales accounted for 22% of overall retail sales. More than one out of every five dollars…now that is some serious drama.

Such rapid and dramatic changes in consumer behavior, caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, is causing companies to react just as dramatically in order to stay connected with their customers. Which means the way they market and advertise is constantly changing, whether your selling to individual consumers or other businesses.

Interview with Robin Bordoli of NextRoll on the Impact of The Pandemic on Marketing

To dig into how these seismic changes are impacting ad and marketing technology usage by companies of all sizes, I recently held a LinkedIn Live conversation with Robin Bordoli, CEO NextRoll, a provider of data platform and account-based marketing (ABM)and D2C (direct to consumer) technology. Below is an edited transcript of a portion of our conversation. Click on the embedded SoundCloud player to hear the full conversation.

smallbiztrends · Robin Bordoli of NextRoll: B2B buyers spend 83% of time in buying journey not engaging vendors

Small Business Trends: What has been the biggest impact on both B2B/ABM and D2C (Direct to Consumer) marketing during the pandemic?

Robin Bordoli: It’s absolutely true that February, March and April, the world basically hit a pause button. So buying decisions get delayed, investment decisions get delayed, you retrench into what am I doing right now? What’s absolutely essential? And that was the first impact of COVID-19. But the second one, which is longer lasting and more structural is a shift from offline activity to online activity. It’s an acceleration of digital transformation. So what that means in our AdRoll business, which is the business that serves direct to consumer marketers, is that consumer behavior means I’m no longer going to my local store or I’m no longer going into a physical store, I’m actually ordering more online.

And what it also means is there’s been a rapid growth, I sometimes like to describe it as a Cambrian explosion of direct to consumer brands like brand new companies getting born that are selling stuff for your garden, home fitness equipment, new ways to entertain yourself. There is an explosion of these companies as people are spending more time at home and categories are getting born as well. If I can’t go to my gym, I need to exercise, maybe I do need some dumbbells at home, maybe I need some exercise bands, maybe I need some wobble boards to help with my core strength. So that’s one big shift, offline to online, which was already happening but if you go look at some of the data that’s now getting published, the growth rates of e-commerce as a percentage basis is the highest it’s ever been year over year, over the last decade.

B2B Sales Go from Face to Face to Digital Interaction

So we’re seeing that in the numbers now. In the B2B/ABM space, which is where our RollWorks business operates, it’s similar in that before companies when they were selling, a lot of the selling they would do would be face to face. They would be going onsite to a customer, they would be going to a trade show and having face to face interactions. That activity has also gone online and gone digital. So now I’m selling over Zoom or I’m selling over LinkedIn live or I’m selling over Google Hangout, Google Meets, or the trade shows. The trade shows haven’t gone away, they’ve just gone virtual. Look at Okta which is a big customer of ours, and they hosted Oktane, which is their big customer event. And they went from, “Oh my God, it’s going to be in person to I’ve got to do it virtually now.”

When that happens, then those digital signals means you can be much more targeted and efficient about how you run marketing and sales, because what used to be offline and invisible is now online and connected invisible. So that shift to online buying behavior for B2B buyers is also an accelerant for our business as well. So that’s a couple of ways and so if I go back to those shapes, the V, the U, the W, and the L, there’s another one that’s being talked about now, which is the K. So the reason the K shape is being talked about is for some companies, they’re actually coming out of it and accelerate, they’re going up the-

Small Business Trends: Oh, the escalator.

Robin Bordoli: Staircase, and some actually for the other side and going down the staircase. So there are companies, there will be winners and losers in this structural shift. The ones that are optimized for a digital businesses are the ones that are disproportionately benefiting from this.

Small Business Trends: What’s been the biggest needed change for marketers in the pandemic who are trying to connect with customers who are scared, who have had to change their way of doing traditional things overnight, and how are marketers having to change their messaging and their approach, not just change their technology, but change the way that they’re listening or the way that they’re addressing customers and going forward?

Robin Bordoli: If there’s one word that you need to have front of mind as a marketer in this environment, it’s empathy. You can’t just deliver the same messages in a rote form, and automation, automation, automation, it’s about empathy and walking in the shoes of your customers and understanding. It’s interesting for our businesses because our marketing team is marketing to fellow marketers. They’re not marketing to folks in IT or engineering, they’re marketing to other marketers. So in some level they should be able to immediately be empathetic because they understand the role, but I think the second aspect of this, and this is a larger commentary, not just about our business, but about all business, which is I think one of the new norms that is emerging is being human, being authentic, being a little bit messy.

We’re on our camera’s right now. This is my bedroom. You can see behind our house is under construction right now. So this is our bedroom and it’s also our TV room with our kids. And my daughter could walk in any moment. My son could walk in any moment and bring me lunch, bring me a coffee. One of the new norms we’re establishing was that’s okay. And by the way, not as it is okay. But if you see that, you should say hi to that person. You shouldn’t make them feel awkward. So I think empathy is so, so important as a leader in these times to be open, to be authentic, not to try and have a veneer up that we’ve got all the answers and we’re buttoned down, that’s sort of gone away.

Be real, be authentic, be open, be vulnerable in that as well. And then the other aspect of that is there’s definitely a… Thought leadership in my mind is a slightly poisoned term at this point. Thought leadership has a sense of people talking down to you. It’s a little bit like, “Oh, I’ve gone up to the mountains and I’ve got this with me and bringing it down to you, and I’m not telling you exactly how I got it or why I got it, but it’s magical and it’s mystical and just trust me.” And so we almost think of ourselves as the anti-thought leaders. And what we want to think about is practical, pragmatic, real world advice. And so we’ve done things like seven minute webinars where you’re going to get seven real, real actionable tips in seven minutes, come on for seven minutes because by the way, who’s got 30 minutes to spare these days?

So come on for seven minutes, listen, we’ll follow up with the materials if it’s resonating. But experimenting in both different formats, as well as what we actually deliver. And so we did, for example, a canceled events guide when this started to hit hard in February and March, and the first trade shows were getting canceled, for a B2B marketer that’s incredibly scary because typically as a B2B marketer, that might be about a third of your budget. So you think, “So where I spend a third of my money has just evaporated overnight. What do I do?” So we came out with a canceled events guide of, okay, here’s a playbook, very specific to this. So it wasn’t thought leadership. It was okay, here’s a very detailed playbook to think through how to now actually navigate this particular situation. So I think that’s the other aspect of it, Brent is be human, be real, be open, be a little messy. It’s okay. That’s what…

How to Go From Empathy to Business Growth

Small Business Trends: Empathy is great. But how do you go from empathy to growth? Great question from Anand Thaker.

Robin Bordoli: Empathy is about establishing a connection. Growth is then actually using that connection to bring about action or change. So I don’t think of them as separate. We’re not just there to put an arm around a marketer and commiserate, we’re there to have empathy to connect and then actually give them something concrete, constructive, pragmatic as to how to face the challenges that they’re now facing. So for example, in the B2B market, in the ABM world, one of the natural things that happens when you have a macro economic crisis is a sudden narrowing of your aperture. It’s like, “Well, I can’t take on new projects. I’ve got to just focus on what’s right ahead of me this week, this month, this quarter. I can’t think about next year. I can’t think about two years or three years from now. I want to make sure that what I’m spending dollars on right now is working right now.”

And that actually plays into ABM. The fundamental promise of ABM is just spend money on the accounts that matter to you and can become your customers rather than the spray and pray. What’s been the dominant demand gen methodology over the last decade, which is lead based, and the analogy there would be fishing with nets. So let me create some content, put big nets out into the ocean, scoop up all these fish, 90% of them aren’t relevant to me and I throw them back and 10% I keep, they’re the accounts that actually buy for me. We’ve moved to a world where actually the data and machine learning capabilities are now such that you can be much more targeted to the accounts and the right people within accounts and making sure you’re spending money just on those accounts in a much more targeted way as well.

So to a certain extent, COVID-19 actually reinforces that. In these moments of crisis, you tend to shrink and focus. And that’s already the message of RollWorks and account based marketing as well. I think that empathy and growth, they’re not enemies, they’re companions and you need the empathy to create the connection with customers, and then you need the value and the technology to deliver growth.

Small Business Trends: B2B buyers are looking for deeper relationships with vendors or brands. Are ads limited only to the first interactions? How can ad-based tech deepen these relationships beyond the impression?

Robin Bordoli: Yeah, it’s a great question. In our RollWorks business, we think about account based marketing and B2B buyers; here’s the fundamental problem as a marketer you’re trying to solve. There’s three parts to the problem. The first is you’re trying to identify who are the best fit accounts. Who are the accounts and the people in the accounts have the best likelihood of becoming customers for my business, not generically, but my business. So there’s an identification problem. The second then is the engagement problem. So how do I engage those buyers as early in their buying journey as possible, and then stay connected throughout the entire buying journey? And then the third is how do I measure what’s working and do more of what’s working and less of what’s not? And those are the three fundamental problems as a B2B marketer you’re trying to solve. The RollWorks platform starts with that first bit, the identification.

So looking at what are the best accounts and the best buys from a fit perspective, from an intent perspective, and from an engagement perspective. So that’s the starting point. If you move into the engagement part, digital advertising is the only channel that has the potential to stay with a buyer, both connect with them at the earliest possible point in their journey, and then stay with them throughout their entire journey. Email can’t do that because email, they have to be known to you before you can start to do that. So you’ve got to remember journeys, if you go and look at the data, B2B buyers today spend 83% of their time in the buying journey not engaging with vendors. They are doing so much work before they engage with a vendor that if you only wait until they’ve engaged with you…

Small Business Trends: Forget it.

Robin Bordoli: They’ve already made up their mind, or they’re just confirming a few things. So the power of digital advertising is that it can start in the buying journey’s much earlier and then actually progress across that. Now in order to do that effectively, the messaging has to change as that buyer goes through different stages. So that’s where personalization comes in. Personalization, is this the CMO versus the individual person that’s going to be using the technology? Where are they in their buying journey? Are they just starting to become aware of this category? Are they about to sign a contract? Have they actually closed, because this isn’t just to get them initially, but you want to continue to reach out to them around expansion and other use cases. So the power of digital advertising is core to account-based marketing. As email was to marketing automation, digital advertising is to ABM because it’s a different problem that you’re trying to solve.

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This article, “Robin Bordoli of NextRoll: B2B Buyers Spend 83% of Their Time in Buying Journey not Engaging with Vendors” was first published on Small Business Trends

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baosensteelcom · 5 years

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How To Get Mink Lash Band Soften and Flexible ?

Much clients ask two questions, why some mink strip lashes band so hard, especially 20mm mink strip lashes and 25mm mink strip lashes? How to get mink lash band soften and flexible? How to wash or clean the mink lashes?

This is a very simple thing for us, because we are lash manufacturer, a wholesale lash vendors, we have 12 years experiences on mink lashes. Here below i will give you a few tips and tricks to help you how you can easily soften the mink lash band and how to clean your favorite dirty mink strip lashes.

DH06

DH09

DH11

25mm mink strip lashes, compare to regular 3D mink lashes, they are at least use 3 times mink hairs, the band, which is made of soft cotton thread, and use glue to stick the mink hairs onto it, turns into thick and heavy, that is normal situation. So only when we solve the this problem, then you can get soft and thinner lash band.

Aupres lashes, leading lash manufacturer of 20mm and 25mm mink strip lashes, never meet this kind complaints from customers. Because we have well trained skillful workers, they select the hairs carefully by hand, and lay every layer by hand, and we use the best glue to stick the bread and hairs, so the results is our mink strip lashes with a lightweight and soft band.

lI have been wearing false lashes for years and years and let me tell you that they are definitely one of my favorite parts of makeup, i love lashes with hats .I’m going to go ahead and show you how i apply them and again just some tips and tricks that i have learned along the way.

If you want see false lashes hack, then to keep on watching that awesome feeling. When you first get a pair of lashes they’er nice and fresh,nice and clean .

But or sometimes the band is way to thick, all you have to do is pick the lighter and your lashes make sure that you do not burn them because that has happened to me way too many times, just that you’re standing far away from it as possible and this will just mouth the band on your lashes and it’ll make it a lot more flexible.

As you can see now they are little bit more flexible and you can just pop them on to your lashes and your are good to go now, if you don’t feel comfortable with applying some heat to the banner of your lashes, or you can do is just make them into a circle , you can just leave them on for a while this will help the lash be a little bit more flexible. You can also take a brush whatever an eye bursh whatever you have and just place the lashes around the actual brush and that will also help soften the bands that way, it’s not too thick and it doesn’t poke your eye.

The next tip i have for you guys is if you have some lashes that you love, and that you just are not ready to part with, i know that lashes can get dirty with eyeshadow fallout bitter, fallout dirty with glue , don’t throw them away, do not throw your lashes away. You have to do is grab a little bit of micellar water, this is my faorite one. it is my Garnier its amazing it takes off all my makeup for my skin, all i do is i grab a little Q- -tip when it’s back and forth through the lashes, i also use that same q-tip and i just clean around the band eare make sure that you do this a few times . Then what you want to do if you want to grab a spoolie and you just want to comb out the lashes other one. Might stick together and they might look a little bit spidery and you definitely don’t want that so make sure that you comb them up with a spoolie and just make sure you let them dry out and you are good to use them again.

If you guys wondering how to apply false lashes without a winged liner i do have have already a video on that, i show you how i apply my false lashes when i don’t wear a winged line i will have it linked down below. In case you guys are interested in watching that then i will have a link down below for you. My favorite glue is from the drugstore i tried so many of them and i always go back to this one, it is the strip lash adhesive with tallow and this is by the brand kiss i believe mine is super dirty and disgusting but i use it every day it’s very long wearing, i dont need reapply it over the day because it just really sticks on my lashes very well ..For some reaon people feel like i need to add tons of glue to their lashes in order for them to adhere and last all day, that is definitely not true , just take a little bit of glue and run it through the lash band. Just a small amount don’t go overboard otherwise they’re just going to be slippery and sliding all over your eye. I am sure you guys smell this but make sure that you let them dry a little bit, don’t let them try too much because them the glue will dry down and they won’t stick to your lashes just about maybe 5 10 seconds . I like to just move them back and forth, so all you have to do is plop them on , just do like little wiggling motion just like this your lashes are on.

Once you’ve applied your lashes you want to take your favorite mascara or whatever mascara you have and you want to apply a generous amount back to your lashes once it’s a little bit tacky you want to press your fake lashes and your real lashes together just cool oh/and kind of press them squeeze them together that way you become one and you can’t tell the difference between fake lashes and your real lashes if they ‘re having a hard time with lashes looking good on your id if you have really small eyes and we have hooded eyes just make sure you do your research and you find out which lashes look best on you usually we have larger eyes most lashes will be flattering but you also don’t want to wear anything that’s going to be too heavy and weigh down your eyes so manke sure you do your research find what kind of a shape you have and kind of experiment with lashes that way you know what best suits you and your eye type if you guys are wondering what my favorite lashes are i have a whole bunch of lashes of ass i love typically don’t keep my lashes back where they belong i have a little drawer where i have all these like spider looking lashes my favorite lashes that i go back to every single time are -the first ones are the koko lashes but in the style goddess those are my absolute favorites, i just lve them i love how they look on my eyes personally my second favorite lashes are grant’s a glamour by Vegas nay and i lore i love those lashes they are a little bit harder to work with because the band is so fake but i love them and once you get used to lashes trust me you will never go back and that i s those are all the tips and i have for now, if i can think of any and we’ll definitely leave them in the description bar down below, i really hope you guys enjoyed this video if you did don’t forget to give me a thumbs up and before you leave don’t forget to hit that subscribe button either

how to get your mink lash band soften and flexible ? How To Get Mink Lash Band Soften and Flexible ? Much clients ask two questions, why some mink strip lashes band so hard, especially…

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the-record-newspaper · 6 years

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Florence spares Wilkes, catastrophic in much of N.C.

By REBECCA TRIPLETT-JOHNSON

Minimal damage was reported in Wilkes as Hurricane Florence lessened in strength during a multi-day trek across the state which left death and destruction in its wake.

The once intense Category 4 storm was projected to bring days of high winds and heavy rains but changed course just after making landfall in Wilmington, taking the eye on a more southerly route before being downgraded to a tropical storm and later a depression.

Reports from W. Kerr Scott Dam and Reservoir indicated .65 inches of rain fell on Saturday and 4.35 inches fell on Sunday with higher amounts being reported in other areas of Wilkes.

After a few hours of partly cloudy skies on Monday, outer band remnants of Florence brought another round of thunderstorms and heavy rains to Wilkes resulting in additional rain totals, yet far less than the nine to 14 inches first predicted had the storm not dipped to the south.

Monday’s water level at W. Kerr Scott reservoir was measured at 1040 which is above the normal 1030. The increase due to water release being at zero in order to maintain flood control throughout Wilkes and counties in the Yadkin River Basin where the Yadkin, its tributaries and other bodies of water remain at and above flood stage. Warnings from the National Weather Service issued alerts into Monday for expected rise of up to 16 feet along the Yadkin River with potentially damaging floods along the banks. No water release is planned from the reservoir until the river has crested and water levels are below critical measures throughout the affected regions.

Sam Call, Utility Plant Director for the Town of Wilkesboro, stated that the “no flow” action of the Army Corps of Engineers greatly aided in all things remaining safe and under control at the water treatment facilities in Wilkesboro. He also credited the partnership with Tyson Foods, a combined effort which allowed for sharing in water storage that greatly helped in keeping any extra pressure off the system during the heavy downpours.

North Wilkesboro Water Treatment sources reported no storm related damage or water issues as of Monday afternoon.

Several power outages occurred in Wilkes during the storm with power being restored within a few hours.

Charles Reinhardt, Maintenance Engineer, Division 11, NCDOT, reported only minor road issues related to the storm throughout Wilkes County. Several trees were down across roads along with scatterings of debris, although neither resulted in extended road closures. Arbor Grove Church Road sustained flooding in Roaring River as water levels rose and covered the road near the low water bridge. The bridge is designed to sustain high water as its slant leans into the current, allowing the force of rushing waters to push the structure down and not be push under to lift it off the supports. Reinhardt felt this would prevent damage or collapse should heavy rains continue.

Reinhardt advises travelers of a road collapse on NC Hwy 221 in Ashe County and alerts all traffic must use detour on NC Hwy 163 until road crews can make necessary repairs.

Reinhardt further noted that DOT construction crews took precautionary steps in the week prior to Florence’ arrival for extra erosion control along NC Hwy 268 and other active construction sites to better handle road wash and drainage from extended runoff.

As of Monday, Reinhardt stated that no further wash or collapse had occurred at the sinkhole area between NC Hwy 421 and Winkler Mill Road at the former Taco Bell location in Wilkesboro.

A team of 20 members from Division 11, NCDOT, including Wilkes, Surry and Caldwell Counties, led by Maintenance Engineer, Brian Hamby, are traveling to Southern Pines, Fayetteville and areas hit hard by Florence to work with other DOT divisions and organizations. Linemen from Wilkes and surrounding counties left prior to the storm making landfall in order to be in position to move into the hardest hit zones as soon as conditions allowed. Tree crews, electric crews and other volunteers are arriving in North Carolina from more than 20 other states, including as far away as California and Washington.

Florence began as a Cape Verde hurricane which are known to be some of the largest and most intense storms on record. Those who experienced Hugo prepared for a similar storm, yet realized Florence was much larger in size and could be much worse.

Wilkes native and current Wilmington resident, Melody Day Rasmussen, shared her experience of living through Florence at the coast and how it compared to Hugo during her time living in Wilkes.

“I was in Wilkes for Hurricane Hugo and I can surely say that Florence was like nothing I have ever experienced. It just sat on us for days dumping water. But we are grateful that the rain amount predictions were much worse than the actual amounts we did receive. For that reason, I think the after effects of the storm that brought the many night time tornados was the worst. Just as soon as we would think we were in the clear we would get a new warning.

We are blessed that our neighborhood is in an area where flooding is not an issue for our home. We have power. So many even within a mile from us are still without power and probably will be till the water recedes. It broke my heart to see so many of our friends lose their homes and have to be airlifted out of danger. Tomorrow morning, Tuesday, the home owners on Wrightsville Beach will be allowed back into their homes for the first time since they evacuated. I cannot even imagine the stress they are feeling.

Most buildings in Wilmington are still boarded up and we have no idea when any of the businesses will be able to reopen again. A few grocery stores and restaurants are now open with long lines to get in. The town officials have done an amazing job of helping everyone and keeping us informed. Duke Energy has also done a great job of helping.”

Rasmussen continued, “It is an unusual feeling knowing that all of Wilmington is now completely cutoff as all roads leading in and out are totally surrounded and covered by water. The residents have been wonderful in helping each other and it makes me so proud to be part of such an outstanding group of people.

It was a beautiful sight to see the massive trucks and trailers lined up and leaving North Wilkesboro from Samaritan’s Purse heading to help Wilmington and those in need of storm relief. What a blessing they are to the residents of Wilmington and surrounding areas.

Rasmussen concluded, “I think that having social media networks like Facebook has helped us all keep in touch with family, friends and loved ones during this terrible storm. And that was certainly a big benefit over the lack of most all communications during and in the days after Hugo.”

According to the National Weather Service, more than 20 North Carolina rivers are expected to hit flood stage and crest within this week, and even more flooding could continue for weeks to come. As rain ends in one area, ground runoff combined with swollen water ways from upstream downpours will continue to push water into saturated locations.

Emergency Management and First Response Teams strongly warn to stay away from and out of all rivers, lakes and streams as flood water currents are deadly and unpredictable. Remnants of Florence are moving west and north in a swath expected to reach New England with flooding rains. Florence broke North Carolina rainfall records with 33.89 inches falling in Swansboro. Impact from this storm will be felt for years ahead and damage assessments may take months to complete.

As of midnight on Monday, 31 deaths have occurred due to Florence, with 25 being in North Carolina. Many roads throughout the state will be closed indefinitely and DOT advises all travelers check ahead before heading to your routes. Two tornadoes spawned from the storm have been confirmed in North Carolina and one in Virginia.

For anyone wishing to help Florence victims, be sure to find reputable organizations before sending items or money. Contact local food banks, churches, etc., if you would like to donate unused storm supplies.

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nereiduk · 7 years

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Fast cruise to France on Fortissimo

Friday 28 September

Tail end of the season and a few remnants of hurricanes threatening the forecast as we assembled in an Italian restaurant in Portsmouth, laden down with warm layers. But we were still optimistic of making it to France and back over a long weekend, having confidence in our super fast steed, Fortissimo, and our skipper, James.

Fortissimo is a Class 40 ocean racing boat, lightweight in build and with a carbon fibre mast and boom. James was recently back from training up a crew of clients to race in the Fastnet (they did pretty well as offshore racing novices).

She’s not the most luxurious yacht to sleep on, open plan without doors, and a heads that makes a drizzly trudge to a marina bathroom in the dark seem an appealing option, but she does have an oven and a table and surprisingly well padded berths. And on a mild September night we were perfectly warm.

After breakfast we rigged up the staysail on the deck, as an alternative to the full furled jib, and James gave us a safety brief. Out in the harbour we hauled up the vast, roachy main, which took two sweating the halyard at the mast and one tailing and then grinding at the winch, unfurled the jib, and then I steered her out of the harbour past Sunsail yachts busy hoisting.

The forecast was 15-20 knots SW, going W later, so our destination would depend on the angle of the wind. Some were keen on Guernsey but Cherbourg seemed more likely. Still on the helm I headed for Bembridge and we tore along at 8 knots or so on a very close reach. James went below to check the navigation leaving the main cleated. The rest of the crew were sat on the high side watching the Solent flash by.

In a sudden gust Fortissimo screwed up into the wind and heeled over dramatically. The tiller didn’t respond as I tried to bear away. James returned to the cockpit and dumped the main and order was restored. I realised how skittish Fortissimo could be if not treated carefully. We put one reef in the main, and she settled down a bit.

Once round the end of the Isle of Wight the wind freshened a little and the sea state built up. I handed the helm over to Simon and concentrated on the chalky cliffs slipping behind us against the glowering grey sky.

The breeze stayed stubbornly SW, so even close hauled we were doing well to head South, ruling out the Channel Islands. With winds of 15-17 knots and boatspeed of 7-8 knots the apparent wind was close to 25 knots, so with gloomy grey skies and drizzle we all went below to add on more layers – think I got up to five.

One crew member succumbed to seasickness, partly caused by getting cold, as well as the lumpy seas, and we all felt a little wary of spending too much time below. After James’ excellent rolls for lunch, I crawled into my dark berth in the aft cabin on the low side, and snuggled down for a short sleep.

Emerging on deck in the late afternoon the sun was struggling to burn through the high cloud. Helming for an hour or so was for me the best cure for mild seasickness, although sticking to a compass course is much harder than watching a landmark. Shipping was quiet, and we felt alone in the grey churning sea. It’s hard to explain to those that haven’t experienced it, but there is a majesty about being in the middle of the Channel, out of sight of land, even on a grey day, with the waves creating a hypnotic, yet irregular rhythm, and the skies endlessly mutating.

About 15 miles out we spotted a grey smudge of high land to the east of Cherbourg, and for a while the sun came out and lit up the sails as we ploughed south. Sunset was a grey affair, but as the lights of Cherbourg came into view, a half moon appeared in the sky, casting a brassy path on the moody, restless waves.

Despite the cold, we were transfixed by the view of our destination, although it seemed to take ages to get any closer. As we entered the gap between silhouetted dark forts into the outer harbour, fireworks exploded on the top of the rock above the town, and stars and rockets lit up the sky until we were finally tied up on the pontoon.

It was now ten o clock local time so we rushed into town in damp and salty sailing gear to find a restaurant still open. Cherbourg was still busy, and we had a welcome if simple meal in a busy brasserie. We had covered 70 miles or so in about 10 hours, averaging 7 knots with a less than helpful tide. Slow for Fortissimo but faster than most yachts.

Saturday 30 September 2017

Normandy was living up to its rainy reputation this morning: I had a damp trudge to the showers. After breakfast enlivened with croissants, we had a little time to explore the town by daylight. The downpour hadn’t deterred the market, open stalls packed with bright pumpkins and tomatoes, shiny wet lettuce and piles of crabs, moules and unknown shellfish. The damp air was scented with fresh bread, pungent cheese and strong coffee.

It was still raining as we embarked about ten o’clock, drifting in light winds past a keen group of racing dinghies in the inner harbour. The forecast had promised us 20 knots SW, and we were hoping for a fast spinnaker reach all the way to Poole. But instead there was dark grey gloom all along the Breton coast and barely 5 knots of wind. We motored north disconsolately.

And then the skies lightened and the wind kicked in, a little tentatively, but enough to haul the spinnaker up on deck and practice a hoist using the snuffer to control the power of the vast kite. I even had a short chance to practice trimming the spinnaker sheet, but it was hard to keep it flying in just 6-8 knots of breeze, so we dropped it back on deck, put the engine on, and motored North.

Just a short while later, the cloud lifted and the breeze arrived, a good 15 knots. So up the kite went again and this time it turbo charged the speed. Soon we were flying along at 10 knots under blue skies, with the waves frothing past the bows of the boat and tumbling mesmerizingly behind the stern.

The wind kept building, and in the gusts we had a few sharp broaches, as Fortissimo screwed up towards the wind and heeled viciously. In one of these there was a sharp crack, and the laminated wood of the port tiller separated. James quickly switched to the starboard tiller to settle the boat, and Ian made a temporary repair using metal jubilee clips to hold the woody layers together. A reminder of the strength of the forces created in strong winds. James also added water ballast, an ingenious system that pumps three quarters of a tonne of sea water into the boat, which can then be directed to one side or the other to damp the heeling motion.

With water ballast and the repaired tiller, Fortissimo settled down, and we raced north at over 10 knots under sun and blue skies. For lunch, James put on the auto helm, which can detect heel and counteract a broach pretty much as well as an average human helm.

The wind built over the afternoon, and at times we reached 12 or 14 knots of boatspeed. But then the skies clouded over and as we reached the Dorset coast the rain reappeared. So it was a gloomy approach past Old Harry’s rocks and along the sandy beaches into Poole Harbour. By the time we had negotiated the chain ferry and the winding deep channel and tied up on a pontoon next to towering sunseeker yachts, the rain had really settled in.

After a pleasantly hot shower, we dried out in a warm, convivial pub, until their extremely noisy band drove us back to the boat and an early night lulled to sleep by rain hammering on the deck and waves sloshing against the hull.

Sunday 1 October 2017

The rain had stopped this morning but the skies were still grey. The earliest we could get through the Needles channel was midday when the westerly tide started, and once again the wind was forecast southwest 15 knots, building to 20-25 knots from early afternoon. So we slipped out about nine thirty, sailing past the ghostly outline of Brownsea Island and nipped in front of the chain ferry while it was still loading cars.

The course for the Needles was pretty much east, 085, which was a broad reach. Wary of the forecast big winds later, James decided against the spinnaker and instead we had the big Solent jib. I took the helm and it felt very peaceful, although the breeze was 15-17 knots and we were making eight knots.

Once further out into Christchurch bay the waves grew larger, and I practised surfing them, pulling the tiller towards me as I felt the boat rise up under me, then holding her steady as we sailed down the wave, and correcting course by heading up in the trough. Over the course of an hour I improved my technique, and was proud to hit a top speed of 12.5 knots!

James intended to approach Hurst narrows via the north channel, so once we were close to the Needles, the chalk cliffs a gloomy grey today rather than sparkling white, we tacked North, then East, and had a fast frothy reach along Hurst spit with tiny walkers silhouetted on top, before bearing away to pass close to the lighthouse itself, and back into the Solent.

Behind us the visibility was fading to grey, although we could see the outline of the Open 50 that had also been berthed in Poole, with its black jib and vast main, following us up the Needles Channel.

Sheltered by the Isle of Wight, the sea was now flat, and the wind still only 15-17 knots, but we decided against hoisting the kite, as we were still expecting the wind to build and James put the lasagne in the oven for lunch. Solent coastguard was dealing with a couple of distress calls from racing crews with suspected fractured ribs and head injuries. We felt our cautious sail plan was the right move.

Soon after we had finished eating, we reached Cowes, were able to head up onto a beam reach, and then the wind started to freshen. Ian took the helm, and steered us due East past deeply reefed yachts, bowling along at over 10 knots in 20-22 knots of breeze.

The shipping lanes were empty, so we had plenty of room to furl the jib and bear away just past the fort outside the entrance to Portsmouth.

Tying up at about three, we carefully removed the sheets, coiled ropes, and put on the sail covers. Over a final round of tea and deliciously moist home made ginger cake, we reviewed the weekend.

180 miles in three days, with two Channel crossings. That simply wouldn’t have been possible in a standard yacht. The highlight perhaps was the sunny spinnaker reach in the middle of the sea heading north to Poole. But I also enjoyed my time helming upwind en route to Cherbourg, the night time approach with brassy moon and fireworks, and perhaps most of all playing with the waves on a broad reach in Christchurch Bay. Fortissimo is rather like a thoroughbred racehorse – light to steer and quick to accelerate, but certainly skittish if not handled carefully. Luckily James knows her well and takes a calm approach to any misbehaviour, coaxing her back to a steady state.

More info on Fortissmo here

#fortissimo class40 channelcrossing cherbourg poole

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unixcommerce · 4 years

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Robin Bordoli of NextRoll: B2B Buyers Spend 83% of Their Time in Buying Journey not Engaging with Vendors

One of the most dramatic, eye-opening data points I’ve seen lately comes from a recent Marketplace Pulse article suggesting ecommerce has seen a 44.5% increase over the past quarter in the US.

Interview with Robin Bordoli of NextRoll on the Impact of The Pandemic on Marketing

smallbiztrends · Robin Bordoli of NextRoll: B2B buyers spend 83% of time in buying journey not engaging vendors

Small Business Trends: What has been the biggest impact on both B2B/ABM and D2C (Direct to Consumer) marketing during the pandemic?

B2B Sales Go from Face to Face to Digital Interaction

Small Business Trends: Oh, the escalator.

How to Go From Empathy to Business Growth

Small Business Trends: Empathy is great. But how do you go from empathy to growth? Great question from Anand Thaker.

Small Business Trends: Forget it.

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This article, “Robin Bordoli of NextRoll: B2B Buyers Spend 83% of Their Time in Buying Journey not Engaging with Vendors” was first published on Small Business Trends

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