best sellers list

9

otp list 💕  : Damen & Laurent (Captive Prince Trilogy by C.S. Pacat)

“I’m glad you’re here,’ said Laurent. ‘I always thought that I’d have to face my uncle alone.’
He turned to look at Damen, and their eyes met.
'You’re not alone,’ said Damen.
Laurent didn’t answer, but he did give a smile, and reached out to touch Damen, wordlessly.”

Romance, Representation And You

So the last post I reblogged got some interesting comments I want to touch on, namely people stating that they don’t dislike Romance because it’s fluffy and feel good, but because it is often sexist, misogynistic, ableist, heteronormative and woefully lacking in diversity, which yes, absolutely, yes. Those are entirely valid criticisms of the genre—indeed I find them to be valid of any genre, whether it’s sci-fi, fantasy, young adult or otherwise. There is a shocking lack of diversity in our fiction and media—and not because people don’t want it or aren’t trying to make it, but because publishing houses and media can’t see the co-relation between what their marketing teams are telling them, and the actual reality that of course straight white stories are selling the best, of course it is, because you won’t sell anything else, that’s why there’s no sales numbers for anything else.

I worked in a romance publishing house for a good few years, I also worked for their erotica team, and do you know, not once did I ever come across a manuscript with a disabled person? Not a single one. There was also never a manuscript that featured a character with mental illness who wasn’t the villain, or whose issues couldn’t be Fixed With Love™(*vomit*). 

The few times a story featured non white characters, it was usually “The Best Friend Who Gives Sassy Real Advice”, or so horrifically racist that our modus operandi was to nuke it from the office servers rather than try and deal with it because how do you politely tell an author, hey, you’re a fetishistic piece of shit please find God and change the entirety of your story so we can print it, (Answer: you don’t there is no polite way to tell someone they are a  fetishistic piece of shit and you never want their work to darken your inbox ever again.) when you can instead say “Sorry, not what we’re looking for a the moment” and retreat to the relative safety of the slushpile where maybe, just maybe, a hidden gem awaits excavation.

And our publishing house prided itself on diversity because we had an LGBT section, and oh boy let me tell you I was so excited when I got moved over onto that side…only to realize, there’s no w/w fiction because “it doesn’t sell well” and 90% of the m/m fiction is being written by women for women and they fired the one gay author cause his work wasn’t “what was selling” and every bisexual character I ever encountered was either Actually Gay/Actually Straight, or surprise! The Evil Greedy Homewrecker who needs to pick a side, booo hiiiiss, grab your pitchforks and burn the witch.

And I remember, I remember looking to my senior editor who was also my friend at the time, a poly bisexual, mentally ill woman and saying “what the fuck Rebecca” (yes, her name was actually Becky) and she looked at me over our skype call and said “You want to keep your job? Deal with it.”

Because you see, Marketing reigns supreme, and Marketing doesn’t give a shit about people like you and me. It doesn’t care if the neurodivergent person wants to see people like them in fiction, it doesn’t care that people of color want to be more than just the friend/villain, they don’t care that there is more to LGBTQIA+ than the L and specifically the G, it doesn’t care if disabled people want to be represented as more than someone ele’s story arc prop. They don’t care they, don’t care, and do you know why so many publishing houses look down on indie publishing and self published authors and try to call them hacks? Because we don’t give a fuck that they don’t care and we’re doing what we want anyway.

Oh sure you get the usual “but the work is so unpolished, no one has vetted it, it’s just bad, this is why we need publishers to stop the crap from rising to the top”—and yet Fifty Shades of Grey still gets a multi-billion dollar production budget and to the top of the best seller list—do you see, where I am going with this? They’re not interested in selling the best they are just interested in selling, and we are living in a society that has a system designed specifically to a quite literally straight and narrow demographic. So of course XYZ stories sell well, of course they do, because that is where the vast majority of marketing goes, to make sure you buy into it. And Romance…Romance is a lucrative industry to be in if you can get the weight of that campaign behind you…but if you can’t? Well, not only do you have to compete with lack of funding and resources, but also the pervasive lie that because you’re not affiliated directly with X Publishing House or Y Agency, you are not good enough, and no one will want to read your story.

And that’s a bunch of baloney. It’s so much baloney you can slap it between two slices of bread and cover it in mustard because the whole thing is a ham.

Do you know what I would have loved growing up? (And still would) Stories about girls who liked people regardless of gender—and who wasn’t conflicted over it because people are people and gender is fluid and irrelevant to love. Stories about people with mental health issues, where the person is still loved and shown as functional, with their mental health issues, not despite. Stories about disabled and ill people who have fulfilling lives whose arc doesn’t revolve around being brave for simply existing or how much of a saint their families/loved ones are for putting up with them. And do you know what I get instead, even now as an adult who has worked in the industry that sells these stories? I get things like Fifty Shades of Domestic Abuse, and train wrecks like You Before Me where the death of the disabled person is seen as a romantic gesture of selflessness that sets the love interest free to fully live her life. HOW FUCKING FUCKED UP IS THAT. Oh you can argue with me all you want that wasn’t  Moyes intent when she was writing it, but it damn well was the end result.

Yes, Romance is lacking, and yes it needs revamped, it needs more cultural diversity, it needs more inclusion, it needs so many things—but it also needs for people to not want to not write for it because it’s “fluffy” and cheap, like somehow they are selling their souls away. 

I’ve got friends who have written amazing, diverse stories told from their point of view…but they won’t ever get them published because as soon as you mention self publishing or the Romance industry they turn their noses up. And they’re shooting themselves in the foot in doing so, because there ain’t no way a story about XYZ is going to make it in a sci-fi house, no matter who much tech you add in. On the flipside of that, I’ve also got a friend who has written about her experiences as a Black queer disabled woman and it’s filled with relationships and great life stuff and so funny…but she can’t get it published anywhere because she’s been explicitly made to feel like she doesn’t belong in the genre because her stories are too complex, they’re too different they’re too comedic…too…too…too (the list goes on). And that’s awful because Romance is a genre that is primarily about people and if you as a Romance house are telling me you can’t sell a story about people, boy are we well and truly fucked.

The biggest criticism of the Romance genre shouldn’t be that it’s too damn happy and therefore unrealistic and nothing but fluff. What’s unrealistic is the complete lack of diversity and inclusion in the genre that makes it so alienating that a huge part of our society immediately feels like they don’t belong. 

And that’s a bigger problem than fluff.

So great, yes fine, Romance isn’t for you, you can tell me all the time that you don’t like Romance and I will cheerfully talk to you about literally anything else. But don’t ever tell me you don’t like Romance because it’s simple and fluffy when there’s a whole wealth of actual problematic shit to dislike it for.

And to you, yes you, I’m talking to you. You with the idea in the back of your head and the worry that you’ll never be a Serious Author because all you want to write about is romance and people and angst and fluff and also thinking no one wants to read stories about people like you: take that idea and run with with it, learn from your experiences and keep doing it some more and maybe one day we’ll have the publishing industry we deserve that will acknowledge you. But until then: Rebel and Do It Anyway.

2

I wanted to write just a couple key moments in bugheads life! Enjoy guys! It’s a long one, better grab some popcorn!
****

“I have no idea.” F.P said defeated, throwing his hands in the air and looking helplessly at his son, who was staring at himself in the mirror with the same confused look in his eyes.

“It’s impossible. This is not humanly possible.” Jughead Mumbled as his fingers toyed with his shirt collar and he tugged restlessly.

“It’s satans work is what it is.” F.P growled pulling the offending object from his neck and chucking it at the door, unfortunately Betty chose that moment to walk in and was hit square in the face by the dark blue silk tie.

“Oh!” She said surprised, holding the garment in her hand and smiling at the boys in front of her. “Thankyou?” She asked.

“Sorry Betty Blue Eyes, you got caught up in the middle of a fight between me and that jerk.” F.p grabbed the tie from her hands and squeezed her shoulder smiling warmly at his favorite little lady.

“No problem.” She laughed “having a little trouble?” She glanced behind F.P at Jughead and he smiled shyly, putting his hands up and shrugging as his tie lay limp around his neck

“This is not a simple tie Ms.Cooper, it is the tie to end all ties” he held it out to her and she rolled her eyes
“My apologies, here let me help”

Betty’s hands expertly twisted around F.Ps neck and within seconds his tie was perfectly done and she was moving to stand by Jughead as F.P stared at her in amazement
“You are a lifesaver little one” he plopped down on the couch and stared at the two teens before him.

Betty was standing before Jughead as Jughead leaned into the blondes hands and took up her space

“How are you feeling?” She whispered as she tugged on his shirt collar, her fingers gently passing his neck. Today was F.Ps final court appearance and the judge would decide if he had jail time or just community service

“Nervous. Nervous but ready.” He said, his hands moving to gently rest on her waist. Betty had been there through all of it, she had sat beside him at every court date, held his hand as he visited his father, and she had been in the passenger seat the day they had made bail, now she was here for the end and he didn’t think he could do it without her.

“I’ve got faith.” She smiled and gently tugged his tie straight. He looked down at her and prayed that she could read his mind, that she could tell just how much her being there meant to him, just how grateful he was for her. He dropped a kiss to her lips but quickly pulled back when he saw the bright flash go off beside him.

“Dad!”

“What?” The older man held up the Polaroid proudly “its for the grandchildren. You’ll thank me when you’re older.”

Betty shook her head and giggled, grabbing the truck keys and smiling

“Alright boys, onward and upward and into the jaws of death.”

The two Jones boys shook their heads and smiled. Betty Cooper was something else.
****

“It doesn’t matter mom, it wasn’t meant to last, you knew it, I knew it, he knew it. We were just fooling ourselves. If Veronica stops by tell her I’ll be over tonight. I just… I need..” as Betty’s eyes filled with tears, she shook her head quickly and ran up the stairs, slamming her door as she collapsed into sobs on her bedroom floor.

Alice placed a hand to her heart, her daughter was in pain and it physically hurt her to see the normally bubbly blonde revert back to her old ways. She hadn’t seen Betty this upset since sophomore year. Taking a deep breathe she moved to start up the stairs when a pounding on her front door stopped her in her tracks

“Ms. Cooper! Please! Ms. Cooper, you have to let me in! Please let me explain! Please!” Jughead was pleading with her from the opposite side of the door, opening it slowly she was met face to face with her daughters absolutely frazzled boyfriend. Jughead beanie was missing and the flannel he wore was buttoned completely wrong, while his suspenders hung unclipped at his side, his dark waves were a mess.

“Oh thank god” he mumbled, rushing into the household “she doesn’t understand that she’s all i want, she doesn’t know how much she means to me, I don’t care about any of those fancy names or big places, all I want is her, I shouldn’t have said some of the things I said but she’s just so stubborn ya know? I mean I…” he was cut off by the quick and heavy footsteps sprinting down the stairs

“Stubborn?! I’m stubborn?! Have you looked in the mirror recently? I’m just trying to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life! I’m so sorry for trying to help you!” She shouted in his face, pushing past her mother and standing toe to toe. Alice Cooper stood frozen in her spot.

“Don’t you get it?! You are my life! You’re everything to me. I don’t care about any stupid acceptance letters or big name schools, I want to be wherever you are! My publicist doesn’t care where I’m located, I can write my books from anywhere!” He was begging her but she shook her head.

“I’m not leaving Riverdale Jughead, my family is here, pollys here, baby jayjay is here. They have a great elementary education program at Riverdale Community. I’m staying here. But you! There’s a whole world for you to see out there! I love you and I’ll miss you so much but I cannot be the reason you miss out on seeing the world!” Tears were falling freely down her cheeks now and he placed his palms on either side of her face

“You are my world! Everything I want is right here. I love you. I love Riverdale, if this is where you want to stay, this is where we’ll stay. My dads here, and Jellybean comes here every summer, this is my home too. My home is wherever you are! My first book is already doing so well I can afford to get us an apartment! Don’t you want to be with me?” He wiped at her tears as his own built in his eyes

“Of course I do! I love you. I just don’t… I don’t want you to hate me.. to resent me with time.” Her eyes dropped and he shook his head

“I love you. I could never hate you. I would follow you anywhere, you’re just saving me a trip.” He smiled when he heard her quietly giggle and he pressed his lips to hers
“Wherever you go I’m right beside you okay?” He asked as she nodded

Suddenly the couple was blinded by a bright light and looked up find Alice Cooper standing before them with a digital camera in her hands

“Mom!”

“That was beautiful! I’m an old woman let me live vicariously through your love” she snapped a few more as Betty and Jughead rolled their eyes before both posing goofily for the camera.
***

She laughed as F.P swung her around the dance floor, sending her poofy white dress flying as he lifted her off her feet before placing her back on the ground and holding her by the waist.

“So how does it feel to officially be a jones?” He asked as they slow danced to the familiar father daughter track.

“Long overdue I’d say” she giggled as he puffed his chest out proudly. “Thank you for walking me down the aisle, I invited my dad to the reception but…” she trailed off looking around sadly.

F.p shook his head, Hal Cooper was an absolute idiot, that he was certain of.
“No Betty, Thankyou. You saved my life. You saved my sons life and I can’t repay you for that, you stuck by him through it all, and I know what a tough son of a bitch he can be.” Betty giggled

“Hey that’s my husband you’re talking about!” She smiled brightly.

“You’re decision not mine” the older man teased, spinning Betty around “anyway. I couldn’t ask for a better daughter in law, so thank you for saving both of us.” Betty wiped at her tears as F.P let his freely fall

“Are you making my wife cry on our wedding day?” The familiar timber of Jugheads voice caused them both to smile. F.p gently shoved Betty into his sons arms and took Alice by the hand

“We’re bonding.” He shrugged before moving to the center of the dance floor, Alice laughing the whole way.

“What was that all about Mrs.Jones?” Jughead asked slightly concerned at her tears.

Looking up at her husband, Betty smiled happily
“Nothing at all Mr. Jones.” He beamed as he dropped a kiss to her lips

“This way you two!”

Veronica called from beside them, she held her camera up and motioned for them to smile as she snapped the picture. Veronica took photos fro fashion magazines all over the world and as Betty’s bridesmaid she demanded she also be the Wedding photographer. Looking up at Jughead as he stared lovingly down at her, she ignored the bright flash of the camera and stared deep into her brand new husbands eyes.
****

“Oh no.” She stood in front of the mirror.

Jughead came running out of the bathroom
“Oh no what?!” He asked frantically, reaching for the bag by the bed.

“I look like a whale.” Betty said blandly, still staring at her reflection in the mirror “might as well call sea world, who needs a book launch, I’ll just start a new career as the first pregnant whale to speak English.” She pouted as she tugged on the skin tight black dress, pulling her nude heel over her foot.

Jughead bit his lip to keep from laughing, tonight was the launch of their very first book as co authors, it had gone over so well that they were already number five on the New York Times Best Seller List. Apparently the concept of a couple writing a book together did very well for sales and they were already sky rocketing, Us Weekly had actually written a two page spread on the “Small Town Star Crossed lovers.” Unfortunately Betty was six months Pregnant and all belly, she seemed to gain no weight anywhere else and as a first grade teacher she was used to flowy sundresses and flats. The stylist had picked out a tight dress and high heels, she looked absolutely amazing to Jughead but apparently the mirror said something else.

“You look beautiful. Too beautiful to even argue” he wrapped his hands around her waist and rubbed her baby belly.

“Really?” She wasn’t one to be vain but hey, pregnancy really does things to your self confidence.

“ absolutely.” He pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear and felt her shudder. Oh yes.

“Alright who’s ready for pictures!” Kevin came into the room and waved his tablet around. Oh did I mention? Kevin was the Jones family manager.

Jughead rolled his eyes and smiled goofily at Kevin as Betty stuck her tongue out

Kevin snapped the picture and in a dull, unamused voice exclaimed

“Charming”

Jughead smiled down at his wife and bent down to press a kiss to her tummy for good luck

“Ready mama?”

“You got it daddy.” She giggled.

****

“Ma! Come here!”

Betty came barreling down the stairs, her ten month old daughter , Lila, snuggled against her chest

“What’s the matter Cody?!” She looked him up and down for any damage

“Chill mom, I just wanted to know what this was.” The nine year old boy held up the dark blue album and handed it to her, gently taking Lila in his arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Betty smiled at the scene in front of her as she ruffled her sons dark waves.

“This is Mine and your dads, it’s our memories.” She opened the album and began flipping through the pages, pointing out pictures and telling the story that went along with each one, Cody was in hysterics and Lila had fallen back asleep.

“Dad really wore that beanie everyday?” He asked, wiping his eyes from laughter

“Yeah well you wear your burger boxers everyday to school.”

Both Betty and Cody turned around at the familiar voice, Jughead stood against the door frame, arms crossed and grinning.

“It’s different! Not everyone can see them! How did you even land mom! She was like… well.. no offense mom but you were a babe and dad… not so much!”

Jughead snorted
“Oh no offense mom? What about no offense dad?” He walked forward and started tickling his son who began laughing like crazy and grabbing at his dads hands, Lila woke up and stirred reaching her arms out for her older brother

“I’ll go feed her! Then I’m going to go play basketball with Jason Andrews, next door.” Cody gently grabbed his baby sister and led her to the kitchen.

Jughead plopped down beside his wife and draped an arm over her shoulders, staring down at the album

“How did I land you?” He asked, gently nuzzling her neck as she stretched.

“Right back at you Romeo.” She dropped her lips to his.

today i was reflecting in the shower.. where i normally do all of my deeper thinking.. and i couldn’t stop thinking about 2016. i know.. we’re in a new year.. time to let it go.. but i don’t think i properly cleansed myself or made peace with how my year went. and because a lot of what happened to me throughout the year continuously comes to mind.. i knew it was time to sit down and write out my feelings. what has made me the writer or “poet” that i am today.. is i’ve spilled my heart out on paper, time and time again, but lately i’ve been extremely distant. i’m not sure whether it’s because i feel a burden to always be positive and uplifting or because i find myself more afraid than ever. last year i cried. and cried. and cried. more than i’ve ever cried in my 22 years of life. i even made a habit out of watching really sad and emotional movies just so i could find an excuse to. also.. i’ve smoked more than ever before. longing to both - feel.. and be numb. i’d smoke before writing so i could pull certain stories out of me. then i’d smoke after, to forget them. often times.. i just got high enough to make myself fall asleep so i wouldn’t have to deal with anything. in the midst of one of my episodes.. i realized i suffer, and have always suffered, from feeling like nobody really understands me. i’ve always felt like i was someone who was constantly mistaken for an entirely different person. i always feel like i don’t “fit”. i don’t fit around friends.. i don’t fit around family.. i don’t make sense at social gatherings.. i don’t feel at home in my own home. i think a lot of these feelings have come up, from time to time, because i’ve never really known my true identity. all i’ve ever known myself to be is someone that everyone clings to. and not in a “she’s the life of the party” kind of way, but more so, “she’s the person to get advice from” way. and although.. this may sound selfish, sometimes i wish i had someone like me. i wish i had someone who was willing to help solve my problems before solving their own. as i’m typing, i’m starting to cry again. and i’m crying because i don’t know when exactly this will end. or if this discomfort is how i’m meant to live life. maybe this is just the life of an empathic. maybe when i started asking god to “use” me, i signed up for this. the truth is, 2016 should have been the best year of my life. i released a book that hit the best sellers list, i bought my dog that brings an unlimited source of awe to my life, i signed a major publishing deal, i moved out of my parents house and into a new home, i lost friends that never clapped for me, and gained friends who’ve been there for me in every way since, i built this whole “brand” into something much bigger than i ever expected myself to, i found out i was cancer free, i promise the list could continue on. but depression got in the way. of everything. i never once celebrated myself. i never once intervened, and took control. i never even thought to. i felt like whatever i was going through.. i was supposed to. and still.. i’m not sure the reasoning.. i just kept living with a kind of sadness i have yet to find a name for. instead of focusing on all of the goodness that god was placing in my life, i had tunnel vision on everything that i felt was going wrong. i couldn’t see life in a positive light no matter how good things may have got. my parents split up. i was forced to move out. i lost my home base. i went, and still go, months without speaking to either one. my boyfriend was dealing with an ex who continuously threatened to take her life at the account of us being together. all i wanted to do was help her. but couldn’t. i had a new life to take care of, when i could barely take care of my own self. i lost all my friends. literally, every single one. i never ever could leave the house because of how bad my social anxiety was getting. i found out i had a fractured jaw because of the size of a tumor that was holding it in place. i found out i had a fucking tumor that could have been cancerous. i had reconstructive jaw surgery that ruined the nerve and feeling in my mouth. i could not eat or sleep or talk straight for months. i’m still dealing with the pain. i was consistently working and doing interviews right after my surgery. i was and am still extremely exhausted from this. i never properly allowed myself to rest or heal. i started working with a team that could not fully ever understand me which only added to my frustration, loneliness, and sadness. and again, THIS LIST could go on. but more than anything. i was bullied. as my brand kept getting bigger, i was bullied more. and more. and i couldn’t understand how my work, trying to help and heal people, could bring in such negative responses. i couldn’t understand why there were people who were so eager to tear me apart, they would start to attack my image. everyday people attack the way i look and sound. and this kind of bullying brought back a lot of old feelings that i never dealt with as a kid. growing up i was constantly brought down and picked on because of the way i look. i was never skinny enough. or pretty enough. or i was too hairy. or my teeth were too crooked. or my hair was too nappy. or i was too dark. or i was too “black”. or i wasn’t “black enough”. now, i’m receiving - i’m too stupid or i’m too fake. my writing isn’t good enough. my writing is cliche. i look like a monkey. and so on. and so forth. and as i’m typing these things.. i find myself giggling a bit, wondering why i even allow these things to bother me. but truthfully, all negativity from outside sources bothers me. no matter what form it comes in. i always question, “what have i done to deserve this?” and although i often ignore these nasty comments, i’ve realized i harbor the feelings i receive when i see these comments. embarrassment. frustration. confusion. hurt. disappointment. betrayal. i let these statements affect me to the point where i’m starting to silence my voice. i’m starting to be more afraid to speak up for myself. the thought of confrontation makes me nervous. the thought of even receiving any awful comments makes my stomach flip. so i won’t say anything at all. i’ll keep everything to myself if it’ll keep the mean people and their nasty opinions away. but i’m trying to break out of this. i really am. i’m trying to be more understanding of the way people work. i know.. that the way we treat people is a reflection of the way we treat or view ourselves. meaning.. those who are willing to go out of their way to attack a person for absolutely no reason, ultimately feel that they need to. either because, they don’t have enough love for themselves, to be consumed within themselves and their own positivity, or, simply, they hate themselves just as much as they hate me. and not personally, but mainly, their views of life are formed in a negative and hateful way.. more often than not. idk.. maybe i’m getting too ahead of myself. or maybe i make sense and i’m afraid no one will understand it. lol. but anyway. idk. i’m just glad i got to get these things off my chest because i feel like my readers.. and supporters.. or those who just fuck with me, for whichever reason.. are always looking forward to hearing from me. and i’m trying to, again, be more accepting of the fact that not everyone is going to always like my shit. my writing. my poetry. my points of view. my ideas. and that’s okay. that doesn’t make me any less of an artist or woman or idealist.. and that doesn’t make whomever else any less than either. i’m thankful. for these moments of clarity because they really ground me and put me back in my place. i get to reflect on how i’ve sabotaged my own life.. and i pray that god help me heal from it. the reality of this all is.. i’m my own worse enemy. and i have been.. for most of my life. and i know this because i would have never ever allowed myself to go through all the hardships that i did. i would have never allowed myself to not only deal with half the people i’ve dealt with - but also.. i wouldn’t have allowed myself to be as affected by negativity as i was. all i was doing, and all i’ve been doing, is place energy in places and spaces that my energy was never meant to be. 2016 was the ending. i firmly believe this because there is always a storm before a sunny day. there were times last year when i thought i was out of touch with myself and i couldn’t hear god as clearly as i’m used to.. but really.. s/he was with me all along. guiding me to this place i’m in now. this place of - understanding, acceptance, and gratitude. i’m finally understanding that sometimes we go through shit. sometimes a lot of shit. but what we go through doesn’t define us. it shapes us into the people that we’re ultimately meant to be. stronger. wiser. and happier.. if anything. i’m finally accepting that some things, many things, are out of our control. but we have much more control than we think. the way we react to life will result in our karma. we can choose how to react and ultimately this will help affect all of our situations moving forward. i’m also learning to accept people as they are. everyone will do as they please. and not everyone will be considerate of mine, or anyone else’s, feelings. in knowing this, i have to constantly remind myself to not take anything personal. the longer i feed into other peoples negativity, the longer i’ll be miserable. misery is the result of not fully understanding or not fully having control over certain situations. but the more intuitive we are.. the easier it will be to keep away from misery. and finally.. i’m grateful for the one friend i had all along.. whom i never give enough credit to. my best friend and boyfriend. every single tear that came strolling down my cheek.. he was always here to help wipe and then uplift me. the more silence i become the more he encourages me to speak. even if he, himself, doesn’t fully understand. i’m grateful to god for showing up in all forms. people. places. numbers. symbols. etc. i cannot be anymore thankful for my relationship with god. for not only helping me get through one of the best/worst years of my life.. but also.. for giving me the strength to open up about it. knowing.. that everyone’s perception of me is that i’ve “got it all together.”
—  Reyna Biddy
2

Hannah Baker had a story to tell. And when 13 Reasons Why hit Netflix in March, the internet couldn’t stop talking about it. Three weeks after the show’s release, it had become the most tweeted-about TV series of 2017, with 11 million tweets. Whether it’s about the subject matter, the performances, or even the music, the conversation surrounding the show has been constant, making it a breakout hit for the streaming service — not to mention landing its original source material, Jay Asher’s 2007 YA novel of the same name, the No. 1 spot on USA Today’s best-seller list.

How Criminal Minds Is Going To End

Because it’s got to… At some point, right?

The team is called out into the field on a case but it turns out to be a massive ruse. A cop whose case they took over and solved years ago, has gone crazy. Them “stealing his glory” has made him lose his mind and want revenge. And he’s had years to plot his revenge. The teams gets taken hostage and ends with multiple casualties.

Flash forward five years:

Rossi has retired again and become a recluse. His books re-entered the best sellers lists again after the publicity the last case got but he shuns it all. He walks around his huge house, wandering from room to room, not really sure what he’s doing with his life anymore.

Luke has started a relationship with Elle Greenaway who made a surprise return to help take the final unsub down. Although she hadn’t been a part of the team for years, she still grieves for them. And Luke, who’d only been a part of the team for two years shares that same grief. They didn’t feel like they could confide in JJ or Garcia, they hadn’t been part of the BAU for long enough. So they confided in each other, helping each other through their grief, which eventually spawned a relationship. They moved to the coast and live in a small beachside house with Roxy, who loves running into the ocean at any opportunity.

Jack Hotchner signed up for the Academy, wanting to follow in his father’s footsteps. He wants to make his Dad proud. Of course Aaron Hotchner came out of hiding to help his team during their week long, highly news covered hostage situation, it was inevitable. It’s just a shame that Aaron didn’t get to see Jack graduate, that he won’t get to see him walk down the aisle with his childhood sweetheart. One thing Jack swears to himself daily; he won’t be let his job come between his family.

Derek and Savannah are just okay. Little Hank is growing up so quickly but he misses his uncle Spencer and his auntie Penelope. He wishes he could see his funny, colourful clothing wearing aunt but she won’t visit anymore. Derek misses his friends and often slumps into a depression that Savannah tries desperately to pull him out of. Sometimes she succeeds, other times she rides out the storm with him.

Penelope has left the states. She created a new virtual world, similar to Second Life. It’s made her a millionaire but hasn’t made her happy, not really. She spends hours a day at her computer desk with Sergio purring in her lap. In her own online world she’s created avatars for all her friends in which their all still together and all still very much alive. She only logs off when she can no longer see the screen because she’s that exhausted.

JJ and Will moved to the south. They’ve had two new babies, twins. A boy and girl. JJ sobbed as she pushed them into the world, knowing instantly what she would name them. Emily and Spencer, after the bravest people they would never get to meet. Her family are the glue that holds her together, the only way thing stopping her sinking.

The BAU is no longer how it used to be. But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. SSA Seaver now runs the floor with Anderson her second in command. Portraits line her office, her old colleagues and friends.

Not longer there, but never forgotten.

What the ever loving fuck is wrong with you people?

You people  You Antis, NST, Truthers, Haters, wtfer name you want to be called or are called. You people. You know I’m talking to you @noshippingallowed @contemplatingoutlander @goldenoutlander @adhara112 @aliceinoutlanerland (oops you forgot the d in outlander. get a d.) @whylimewhyanything (put the lime in the coconut) @whoreallyknowswho (it’s whom! whom! unless you just forgot to finish your sentence) @prodigiousreblogger @bestof60 (are you 60?) @vividdreamer318 (your imagination is certainly leading you astray) @breezylouisey (is that you weezy?) @momofmusa (i thought you were mom of USA lol)  @alittlebitmasss (oops your s key got stuck)
Anyway, there are more of you and I’m sorry I didn’t give you a moment of thrill by acknowledging you by name but I mentioned the Tumblr accounts that I’ve seen making horrendously wild, hateful, fictional, hurtful accusations against other Outlander fans with no speck of proof - accusations meant to inspire others to emulate you and spread hate to those people as well. Let me get this straight. From what I can tell, you are super hopping mad about the content of certain Twitter and Instagram accounts. Fine. Totally fine. You are entitled to your opinions. I can see why those accounts might make some people mad. I mean, irrelevant to my life but maybe not yours.  You are mad that certain Twitter and Instagram accounts have been created for the sole purpose of throwing shade and mocking a certain celebrity you hold in high esteem. I get that. Fine. Be outraged! Express yourselves!!
Speaking of fine I know you will go through this post with a fine toothed comb for anything you can argue with and attack me over because god forbid you actually read the message, digest the information, thoughtfully consider the content and then share your thoughts and opinions and maybe answer some of my questions. Nope that’s not your style. Attack attack attack half-cocked and don’t put any thought or concern for reality into it. Yes you are the borg of Antis as the foil to the Shippers. I didn’t create that world, you did. You wanted to be the anti-shippers. You are gathered on Tumblr together to be this Anti-Shipper fighting army. Go forth and fight uhh I guess? WHY???? 
See, shippers are motivated by love. That’s really obvious. There are all types of shippers just as there are all types of people (and even all types of antis), but what brings them together is not just their love of Outlander (and you guys love Outlander too! Whee we have something in common) but their love of the LOVE parts of Outlander and all the LOVE associated with Outlander in promos, BTS, interviews, Q&As, social media banter between the cast and crew, etc. LOVE is LOVE is LOVE is LOVE is LOVE is LOVE is LOVE is LOVE. So you generally don’t see shippers on social media attacking people with hatred and lies and accusations of criminal activity. Wait wait wait. Correction! YOU see shippers doing those things but no one else does. You mostly see shippers doing those things with accounts that aren’t even recognized shipper names. They are basically troll accounts that you have deduced are shipper accounts. You do have these long convoluted narratives of what certain shippers are alleged to have done and you bandy them about so frequently that your telephone game grows legs and walks it’s own marathon and becomes some weird beast-mode attack shipper who does horrible things. You say you SAW these things but you haven’t. Show me a tweet, a facebook post, an instagram post from an Outlander fan who identifies herself as a shipper and has a known persona in the fandom and is attacking, hating, committing these horrendous crimes you claim. What I mean is, SHOW ME THE MONEY! SHOW ME PROOF to back up your narrative. You have specifically named a number of Outlander fans and made outrageous claims as to their character, behavior, beliefs, actions, off-line actions and more. YOU HAVE NO PROOF BECAUSE THESE STORIES ARE FICTION.
I’ll give you an example of how your lies have grown wings, run a marathon and turned into beast-mode:
So a certain blue check account posts that a certain object of your hatred and hate-mongering did something so illegal that she would have been arrested and would still be in jail. You all headnod, mouth breath, feel righteous for having attacked her because you were soooo right, bang away at your keyboards and continue the lies and hatred and stoke the fires for uhhh fun? Yet you all know that she isn’t in jail and couldn’t have done this highly illegal thing because you watch her every move and you saw her posting pics of herself just last weekend participating in a fitness event. Hmmmm. Are you collectively dumbing each other down with your groupthink or all you all that stupid? YOU KNOW IT’S A LIE. But you’ve all convinced each other it’s ok to lie about it, malign, spread hatred and misinformation about certain fans and tarnish their reputation in the fandom because… because? because why??? Help me out here. So it’s because someone has said rude bad things to an actress you believe is Sam Heughan’s girlfriend even though he has never once said so. You BELIEVE it so it’s your reality. And the fans that you malign? You do that because they believe something else. But the weirdest thing is that you do malign them by tossing out totally unfounded and false accusations about their behavior and ascribe all kinds of unsavory activities, motives, and behaviors to these fans you have chosen to malign. You do the thing to them that you so claim to hate they are doing to the objects of your admiration. 
I’m still working on this and I still need your help. So because you BELIEVE that two actors are dating and BELIEVE that it’s wrong that internet trolls make claims that they are not and some internet trolls say really rude things and tag them, you feel fully justified in making claims that the trolls are not just trolls but actual recognizable Outlander fans. Are you like shippers of trollworld or something? 
I’ll just come right out and say it. Kim Hickey is not behind any of those trolls accounts you claim she is. I know this and you know this. You know which accounts are legitimately hers because she identifies herself. You are even attacking her My Peak Challenge account that she posts inspirational memes and encourages people to donate to Bloodwise. Are you for fucking real? You’re attacking a charity endeavor in your blind hatred of…. hatred of who fucking knows.  Even if you didn’t know she wasn’t behind the troll accounts, you absolutely have no basis for claiming she is. You are making shit up and publicly proclaiming it as truth just like that thing that Shippers do that you claim to hate.  Also, let’s talk about me:  I am a public person online. I don’t hide behind cutesy names. You can look me up and it won’t even be doxing me because it’s all right there, isn’t it? I have no sock accounts. I put my name on all my accounts because I own what I say and share. This tumblr account was created in the middle of last summer as a parody of Starz Obsessable campaign therefore it did not need my name on it. I never had a Tumblr account before that and I have never even sent anons on Tumblr. I never pretended I was anyone else or made any attempt to be anyone else. I posted freely about myself and my life when it was topical, including photos of myself. If you were like BINGO I’m such a supersleuth I figured out who is behind that blog!! you’re not smart or observant. It was obvious. The thing is, though, shippers didn’t know who I was. Not because they didn’t know who was behind “Obsessive Sassenach” but because they didn’t know who Nipuna was. Isn’t that funny? One of the Outlander fans on the top of your BAD SHIPPER LIST WHO MUST BE EXTERMINATED list isn’t even known by other shippers. What makes me a shipper? Just that I have heart eyes for Sam and Cait and think they have chemistry and oh wait, whoah, ZOMG, Arthur Kade thinks that too. Josh Horowitz does too! and ummmm ummmm that one lady at TCA that one year and that one book author who was on the NYT best seller list and you know I could go on. It’s not a crime to be fully happy to enjoy Sam and Caitriona’s chemistry. And if that makes me a shipper, yay. But the only reason I’m actually a known component of the shipper community now is because you guys have dragged my name around and created ridiculous lies about me. It’s like I’m some sort of Shipper Legend (to you, not shippers) who does these super crazy Shipper things in AntiLand. Remember the grave story that was created by one of you weirdos because a family friend of mine who is a caretaker for a military graveyard in the USA was friends with Sam’s father? You guys turned it into: That Crazy Shipper Nipuna stalks Sam’s father’s grave in hopes of running into him and Caitriona making a baby on his dad’s grave in Scotland. Or something like that. Anyway, tour bus guides in Scotland think there are crazy Outlander fans who stalk Sam at his father’s grave but if they stop to think they realize they don’t even know if he has a grave or if it’s even in Scotland. 
You’re maligning the whole fucking fandom you freaks! You’re creating these outrageous, convoluted piece of fiction because you are all worked up about uhh something and then you tag other nasty people and get them to repeat the stories and then the stories get embellished and repeated and you sit back and watch the telephone game continue. But don’t you realize that you’re fucking the whole thing up for yourselves too? I mean, I guess not if you like chaos and mayhem. But most of you profess to care about people being nice and kind and cry out that bullying is bad and wrong. But then you do just that when you pick an Outlander fan and create detailed and convoluted lies about her behavior.  The people you lie about know they are lies, sure. And lots of other people know they are lies and ignore you, but you repeat the lies over and over and you know that saying about how if you repeat a lie often enough people will start to believe you. So you repeat and repeat and then sit back and with self satisfied smiles. Or maybe it’s just that your mouth is open because you’re breathing through it. Whatever. I don’t know your motives. I don’t know what attracts you to fan the way you do. I don’t know what fulfills you. I know it’s not LOVE. But do you even know? Are you just running around half-cocked and brainless and letting yourselves be lied to? What gives? Can you help me understand why you are constantly naming and targeting certain people and pointing others to attack them and if that doesn’t work creating stories that will hopefully motivate them to attack? WHY???

8

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets - Chapter Seven: Mudbloods and Murmurs

It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone marrow, a voice of breathtaking, ice-cold venom.

“Come … come to me… . Let me rip you… . Let me tear you… . Let me kill you… .”

Harry gave a huge jump and a large lilac blot appeared on Veronica Smethley’s street.

“What?” he said loudly.

“I know!” said Lockhart. “Six solid months at the top of the best-seller list! Broke all records!”

“No,” said Harry frantically. “That voice!”

“Sorry?” said Lockhart, looking puzzled. “What voice?”

2

Sales of ‘1984’ skyrocket after Kellyanne Conway invents “alternative facts”

  • Sales of 1984, George Orwell’s famous 1949 sci-fi novel about a dystopian future ruled by oligarchical mega-states, have skyrocketed.
  • This is after Trump’s counselor Kellyanne Conway coined the term “alternative facts” to describe blatant lies.
  • According to Mashable, 1984 rose to the sixth-highest place on Amazon’s best-seller list as of Tuesday afternoon. Read more

anonymous asked:

When did you realize you could live off of your work as a Writer? I know it seems too personal but, do you have an average number of how much you make per month? People seem to be so secretive about that and I don't understand why. I want to live as a writer but I couldn't possibly do it without knowing I would be able to pay my rent and food

People are “secretive” about that for a few reasons:

1. No one wants to talk about personal finances online. It’s uncomfortable and, more importantly, unsafe.

2. A vast majority of writers fail by society’s standards. They make shit money. The average traditionally published writer sells 1000 copies in 2 years, and the average self-published writer sells 100 in the same amount of time. No one wants to announce these numbers.

3. A lot of people don’t understand the writing industry or the averages. They think you’re only successful if you’re on the NYT best seller list. So when an author is selling well and announces it, sometimes the reaction is mixed - what? That doesn’t sound like very much. It’s not fun having to explain your success each time you present it.

My reasons are #1 and #3. My platform is huge, and announcing my financial status to everyone obviously puts me at risk. And in the past when I’ve given sales updates, I was met with confusion, sadly from aspiring writers who should know better. For example, when I announced that I had sold my first 2000 copies of EVE, people were surprised that I hadn’t sold 20,000 on the first day alone. Having to explain that such numbers are insane, especially for a debut author (with a much smaller audience at the time) got old fast. No more announcements. Too many idiots in the mix.

All that said, there’s a big flaw with your question, and that’s the fact that you’re assuming there’s some kind of financial norm among writers. The norm is dick money. Most writers write part-time and have a full-time job to support them. Writers like me who do this full-time are the minority. So even if writers announced their finances, it wouldn’t do you much good. This is a job that depends on the individual writer, their marketing tools, their audience. It doesn’t matter how well I’m doing, because I am not reflective of you. I have a YouTube channel, a large audience, and zero debt - so while writing is most definitely paying all of my bills, I have fewer bills than most people.

There is no crystal ball with this industry. You work your ass off, you market like crazy, and you wait for the sales to come in. At some point in your writing career, you will be able to tell if the money is good enough for you to quit your day job. But that is not something you’ll be able to predict before anything is released. That’s a realization that will come long after your work is published. 

2

We live in a world where a man, hated by many around the globe, announcing his first book resulted in people crying  ‘racist’, ‘sexist’, ‘neo-nazi’, ‘white supremacist’, ‘censor this book’ and ‘boycott the publisher’.

The result of these attacks? The book tops the Best Seller list on Amazon within 24 hours of going on sale, more than two months before it is even released, and it is absolutely glorious to watch. Meanwhile, Hillary’s latest book sold less than 3000 copies in its first week.

I thought that people would have learnt their lesson after the US election, but apparently they still hold faith in the “throw generic insults and attempt to censor anyone with a different opinion” strategy.

Well played to Milo and his publishers Simon and Schuster. You have made all the haters look like fools and will profit nicely on the back of their ineffective tactics.

Wrote My Way Out (Reader x Chris Evans)

A/N: This was sorta inspired by Hurricane from the Hamilton soundtrack. It always inspired me. Includes a non-actor Chris Evans.

Summary: Reader is torn between choosing the future her parents’ want and what she loves. A chance meeting at a local bar inspires her. (au!Chris)


“Y/N, this is a nice hobby but you need to focus on something that will get you a steady income. You need to focus on getting into medical school. Have you even submitted applications?” Your mother was pacing around the living room as you sat in the center of the sofa, wishing it would engulf you.

This had become a routine speech of your mother’s every time you came home for the weekend. You had done what she wanted you to do; you went to a university with a high med school acceptance rate, you joined all the clubs on campus that med schools liked, you even began researching at the largest and most prestigious medical school. You weren’t happy.

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