#a flop can be marketed as a flop

[sadaveniren]

I'm still expecting DWD to flop based on preview screenings, probable bad reviews from critics, and people not running to the theater once they realize the pilot twist revolves around r*pe

I mean… what do you consider flopping? Let’s be clear, this is not the type of movie that I would expect to gross over $100 million dollars. The type of movie that does that is usually much more than what DWD seems to be. I can’t imagine the studio looked at it and went “ah yes here is our next Get Out or Us”. I think the fact its booked for a late September release is to try and feed off of the “scary October” vibe and also give it eligibility for award season.

Not every movie has to make $100 million dollars to be considered successful. Some movies are made for accolades (this is what I personally think they are aiming for btw) or for art (which is what I think MP was made for) so judging this movie on how well it does at the box office is not a good indication of whether it will flop. It’s an R-rated horror/thriller movie that centers around a female lead. I personally think the studio would be dumb to expect it to be a box office darling. I wish I could find what the budget was for the movie but at the very least that’s what the studio will want to recoup.

For the record Midsommar (another Florence led horror film) “only” made $48 million, but that was off of a $9 million budget. If DWD was made for around a similar budget then even a $30 million box office will be a success for the studio.

It’s all about what the expectations are for the movie. We’ll see what critics have to say since this version will be the version after WB has gotten its hands on the film and probably re-edited the shit out of it because I am just… pretty confident Olivia sold away her right to last edit of the movie when she signed the deal with WB. (And we’ll know this for sure if there is bad press for the movie and Olivia comes out crying about how the studio made it so she couldn’t show her TRUE vision and blah blah industry stuff - no you sold them that right. If you’d given the film to a streaming service you would have kept the creative control to have the movie be what you wanted but you would have lost out on the money/potential accolades that a traditional release allows for.)

So yeah. We’ll see how it goes but remember. Movies are judged by critics and studios on a lot of different metrics and I’m prepared for fandom to be celebrating what they think is a flop while Olivia and the studio are crowing about how pleased they are because again… different expectations.

[boiledcaprisun]

chimata doodle

[reigningmax]

The "Daniel is only hyped cause he laughs and smiles a lot" is genuinely the worst take you can have about this lmao.

Daniel Ricciardo is, along with Lewis, THE most recognizable face and name in motorsport outside of the F1 fans bubble. Therefore, he is extremely valuable in terms of marketability. He is also an 8-time race winner. For that to be dismissed and to say he's average as if the past 2 years erased all his accomplishments is insane lmao.

Being an accomplished driver AND one of the most marketable athletes in your sport makes you valuable as fuck.

[chipped-chimera]

Seeing crochet clothing being 'in' now is always kind of frustrating as someone who can actually crochet for shit (evidence attached) because as much as I'd love to be able to maybe sell some of that work, ultimately you can't compete with that store (machine?)grade shit. A crochet maxi-skirt made from granny squares is selling for AUD $60. AUD $60 wouldn't even cover the cost of the materials (in a nice, wearable quality yarn). :/

Well at least when I make something I know it's not gonna be basic bitch shit -

[modernbaseball]

Succession is whatever you want it to be

[m0e-ru]

annoys me how people don’t get adachis shadow nor understand the way he works in ultimax and the fact he’s never accepted himself and neither will improve as a person than as genuinely as someone who does awaken to a persona hence why he’s still in pain trying to utilize it all the time and the words he thinks and says and the actions he does in ultimax should be taken with a grain of salt but also wholeheartedly after putting it under a microscope enough

[posthumus]

ok upon reflection i think viserys is the character that's the most immediately gripping for me. first of all he LOOKS like he listens to dad rock so good job h&m department. he's woobifiable (the big stone king's landing(?) model he's carving..... we love a man with hobbies). most importantly he just committed the evilest thing that happened in the pilot. i can't wait for him to marry a teenager and then look pathetic and conflicted about it. what can i say i love a pervert with a victim mentality

[polarisbear]

the homosexual urge to render something in black and white for 3 weeks

[luckywolfsbane]

*suddenly remembering my curse of near-starts*

Is this... is this business a good idea 😬😮‍💨😰 Too late now...

[pagesofkenna]

what Wii U games should I play

[mizoox]

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[fans4wga]

'Why creatives are seeking residuals' - thread by Stefanie Williams

[Tweet thread by Stefanie Williams @/StefWilliams25

TRANSCRIPT:

Why creatives are seeking residuals vs. "do you pay the mattress maker every time you sleep on a mattress?" A thread. I keep hearing over and over again that writers/actors/creatives don't deserve residuals for the work they create. "If I build a bathroom in a house, I don't get paid every time someone uses the toilet."

TRUE! However, your bathroom build has a set market value. Art does not. No one knows what makes one TV show an overnight success, and another a flop. No one knows what makes one song a hit, and the other a dud. If they did, trust me when I say record companies would be churning out Taylor Swifts over and over again. Studios would be making nothing but Stranger Things.

But that isn't the case. No one could predict Stranger Things would be a massive, billion dollar hit. No one could predict Taylor Swift was going to be a world wide phenomenon who literally could record herself reading Aesop's Fables and make millions of dollars. Which is why residuals are important. The pay structure protects both the creators and the publishers/distributors.

The easiest way to explain it is by referencing an author writing a book. Sure, an author might get a very modest up front fee, but the author is banking on royalties to really make money on the book — for every book sold, the author gets a piece of the pie. This protects both the author and the publisher—because if the book is a flop, the publisher doesn't go broke on a financial promise they made to the author that didn't pan out, and if the book is a mega-hit, the author didn't give away a massive, million-dollar book for 20k.

It's a sliding scale that is required for a product that has no set market value. What makes an actor's work on a hit show more valuable than an actor's work on a show that gets canned after five episodes? The market value for art almost always comes after the fact, so residuals account for that reality. They make sure the creator get compensated at a fair market rate. A person who builds a bathroom knows, upfront, what the market rate for a bathroom is. That bathroom won't suddenly be worth 1000 times more than you built it for in six months. It doesn't have the potential to be built for 20k and generate 20 million.

Residuals are a pay structure that simply account for an unsure market value. Trust me, we all wish we could quantify art in terms of dollars. But art is unpredictable. So studios and streamers -- which literally REQUIRE content to stay viable -- have to account for that unpredictability. And for studios (or record labels, or book publishers) it's always trial and error. The only way to get a hit, is to go through a few flops.

For every Whitney Houston, there was a singer you never heard of. For every Sopranos, there was a show that got scrapped mid season. For every Titanic, there was a movie that bombed. For every Twilight, there was a book about vampires that went nowhere. Residuals are kind of a reverse market valuation. They pay a fair wage for a product than can only have a set value once it's been created and effectively consumed.

And even then, shit changes. Anyone think Kate Bush would spend weeks on the top of the charts in 2022? Residuals account for unpredictable markets. And in order to have accurate residuals, streamers and studios need to be transparent and open about their data, which is one of the MANY things the WGA and SAG are both fighting for.

[formergovernorofcalifornia]

Watcher seem to be making every single pitfall you can when establishing a new business from scratch

1. Someone already said this LA is like the worst place so start up a new business with limited funds. The cost of living, rent, and literally everything is too expensive to be sustainable without quick profit and growth.

2. They expanded far too quickly. The amount of employees and salaries for a company of their age and size is just not going to work.

3. Their content should not have had the apparently massive budget if they knew it was a financial risk with a large probability of not producing enough profit to offset the cost.

4. If they want to be like a tv network so bad they should’ve tired to create trial (CHEAP) shows with new personalities and talents to test the waters. Like actual TV networks (used to) do. Not some of their most expensive shows that have flop everytime they’ve tried to launch it.

5. MARKET RESEARCH!! Market research is the best friend to anyone trying to grow an audience. Feedback from a third party is so important when your job depends on a third party like this

6. TV Networks and streaming services depend on the casual viewer which are way easier to get on a well known platform.

7. Streaming services make booty trash money it’s a horrible business model.

I know everyone rags on business majors but has anyone at Watcher even like ever seen like a spread sheet?

[dixons-sunshine]

Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Summary: While hanging out with Daryl, an old friend decided to pay you an unexpected visit. Not wanting to cut your visit short, Daryl offers to tag along to the supermarket. You agree, which lead to the funniest but best shopping experience of your life. And the hangout afterwards turned into a night you'd never forget.

Genre: Fluff, some angst (mentions of Daryl's dad and his scars—reader knows about his home life.)

Era: Pre outbreak

Warnings: Swearing, blood (from reader's period), mentions of abuse, mentions of Merle being an asshole to reader and Daryl, allusions to money problems (reader chooses the cheapest foods while in the store and lives in a trailer park), reader's mom is implied to be a single parent.

Word count: 4.6k (this got way longer than I expected)

A/n: Honestly my second favourite story I've written. It's not great, but I loved the concept very much and writing about Daryl before the apocalypse turned out to be so much fun! I definitely need to write more about pre-apocalypse Daryl.

Requests are open for any TWD requests if y'all wanna send any!

Part two

—

“I'm telling you, you're overreacting. How was I supposed to know that it was gonna go flying in your direction?”

“It wasn't even supposed to go flyin' like tha' in the first place. I've been tryin' to teach ya to fish fer months now, but yer hopeless. Stick to buyin' fish from the market fer yer safety and mine.”

You threw one of the pillows on the couch you were sitting on in his direction, trying to look offended but failing miserably due to the burst of laughter falling from your lips. Daryl easily caught the pillow and chuckled, a boyish grin on his face. He flopped down next to you on the couch, keeping the pillow on his lap as he watched you trying to calm your laughter.

“You're mean, you know that? I'm not hopeless, fishing is just hard,” you said with a smile, looking at him through your eyelashes.

The smile you wore and the sparkle in your eyes made Daryl's heart skip a beat. His mouth suddenly felt dry and he felt an overwhelming urge to close the distance between the two of you—and urge he's had for months now—but he refrained, his father's deprecating words about his 'nonexistent' worth echoing in the back of his mind.

Daryl shook the thoughts from his mind and focused back on you, your smile he loved so much still gracing your features. “Nah, it ain't tha' hard,” he replied, resting his arm on the back of the couch.

“Says the fish whisperer,” you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest in mock anger, but the huge smile on your face ruined your facade.

Daryl couldn't help the amused laugh that escaped his mouth. “Fish whisperer?” he asked, a crooked smile on his face as he looked at you. “Tha's what yer callin' me?”

“Yeah, you're a fish whisperer. Every time I try to catch a fish, you lean down to the water and tell the fish to be difficult so that I can't catch them and you get the satisfaction of watching me fail. I've got you all figured out, Dixon,” you joked, a teasing grin on your face.

Daryl shook his head at your ‘accusation’ and chuckled. “Ya got me,” he responded. “Sorry ya had to find out like this. The fish and I jus' have this unspoken bond, ya know? They do whatever I tell 'em to.”

“I knew it,” you replied playfully, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Apologise right now.”

“'M sorry,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I'll talk to the fish and get them to go easier on ya.”

“Thank you,” you laughed in playful triumph.

“Yer welcome,” he replied with a shake of his head, the crooked smile still on his face. “Now are we gonna watch tha' movie ya promised or are we jus' gonna go back and forth over your lack of fishin' skills?”

“Yeah, I just gotta use the bathroom really quick. You can pick out a movie in the meantime,” you acknowledged, getting up from the couch once you saw Daryl nod.

You headed into the bathroom of your small trailer home and closed the door, heading towards the toilet to tend to your business. However, as soon as you sat down, you saw blotches of blood on the inside of your underwear. You groaned inwardly at the horrible timing of your period's arrival and reached for the box of tampons you kept located near the toilet. However, as soon as you opened the box, you audibly groaned at the sight of only one tampon remaining. You didn't have any pads either due to your mom having used the last one a week prior, so you'd have to make a run to the store.

You finished your business, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear from the laundry basket you had yet to take back to your room as well as a pair of pants, before going back out to Daryl. He patiently waited for you on the couch, the movie he picked out paused and waiting to be watched. He fiddled with the remote in his hands before looking up at you when he heard your approaching footsteps. He gave you a small smile before frowning, instantly noticing the ashamed look on your face.

“Wha's wrong?” he questioned, getting up from the couch and taking a step towards you.

“Nothing! It's nothing, I just...” you trailed off, unsure how to go about telling Daryl about why you needed to cut the visit short.

“Ya jus' wha'?” he asked anxiously, unnerved by your sudden awkwardness. You were never nervous around him, so the sudden awkwardness baffled him.

“I have to go into town. I need something urgently and it can't really wait. I'm sorry,” you apologized sincerely, your tone holding sadness at the prospect of the visit you had to cut short.

Daryl's heart sank at your words. He enjoyed hanging out with you and really didn't want to go home yet. He was sure his dad wasn't passed out from drinking yet and he didn't want to accidentally set him off into another rage and deeply pay the price for it, so he wanted to wait it out here with you. But now he most likely wouldn't be able to.

“Wha' do ya need?” he asked, nervously chewing on his bottom lip.

You hesitated for a moment. You liked Daryl, and not just platonically, either. Despite his rough exterior, he was undeniably sweet, kind, caring, affectionate and so much more. He knew how to make you laugh even if he preferred to be serious most of the time and he always treated you with the utmost respect. But you also knew that both his brother and his father were misogynistic pricks. They didn't know the first thing about women and feminine needs, so they definitely didn't teach Daryl about any of that. You didn't want Daryl to look at you differently or be grossed out by you because of your period. You wouldn't be able to handle that.

“Hey, ya alrigh'?” Daryl asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. His eyebrows were furrowed in a deep frown, his eyes flickering between your eyes in concern.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I'm fine. I just zoned out for a second.”

“Ya didn't answer my question from before. Wha' do ya need in town?” he repeated his question.

You swallowed nervously before sighing. “I'm on my period,” you whispered, heat creeping up to your face. “And I'm out of tampons.”

Realisation struck Daryl like a ton of bricks. “Oh,” he mumbled, awkwardly fiddling with his hands.

In all honesty, Daryl wasn't weirded out by you saying that, but he didn't know how to go about the information you gave him. He only had the tiniest grain of knowledge about women's periods—thanks to the many women his dad brought home—but he knew that freaking out about it wasn't the way to go. You were one of the most important people in the world to him, and by god he would do anything to ensure that you knew that you could go to him whenever you needed anything, even for something like you needing period products.

“Ya want me to give ya a ride to the store?” he asked, completely taking you by surprise.

“No, I don't want to trouble you. I'll just walk,” you declined his offer, nervously hugging yourself in an attempt to appear nonchalant and simultaneously ward off the pain that would soon stab through your lower abdomen.

“I ain't lettin' ya walk, especially this close to dark. God knows what trouble is waitin' if ya set foot outside this trailer park alone. Tha' new motorcycle gang likes to hang 'round here and I dun' want them to get any ideas with ya,” Daryl replied steadfastly, his mind already set on escorting you to the store.

You smiled at Daryl's worry towards you. It was rare to see his softer side, but when you did, you always cherished it. Daryl Dixon truly was unlike any man you've ever met.

“Fine,” you relented, your voice adapting the playful tone from earlier. “You can drive me, but just so you know, I'm taking advantage of your hospitality. I need to buy some groceries anyways, but I never got around to it because it would be too much to carry if I walked.”

Daryl's lips twitched up into a half smile and nodded. “Alrigh',” he agreed. “But yer buyin' me a Coke fer my valiant efforts of simply drivin' ya to the store.”

“Deal,” you laughed lightly, unaware of the effect it had on Daryl. His heart quickened at the sweet sound of your melodic laughter and he had to duck his head to hide the blush that formed on his face.

“Let's go.” He motioned for you to follow him and you obliged after grabbing the grocery list, following him out of your trailer and over to his neighbouring trailer. The two of you quietly made your way over to his beat down truck, a vehicle he was 'graciously' being lent by his older brother. Or as Daryl once told you, Merle simply dropped it off one day after getting his motorcycle and just seemed to forget about its existence. So now the truck unofficially belonged to the younger Dixon brother.

You opened the passenger side of the vehicle and got in, closing the door behind you. Daryl got into the driver's side and started the truck, his eyes glancing around at the wrappers and few empty cigarette boxes that littered the floor. “Sorry 'bout the mess.”

“It's fine,” you reassured him. “It certainly doesn't look worse than my trailer when my mom and I have been too lazy to clean up.”

Daryl quietly nodded and started the drive to the store, pulling out of the trailer park. The drive was mostly spent in silence until about five minutes in when a bunch of motorcycles whirled past the truck in the opposite direction. Daryl visibly stiffened after one particular motorcycle drove past and you frowned, placing your hand on his arm to try and ease his tension. At the unexpected action, Daryl tensed slightly but soon relaxed under your tender touch.

“Who was it? The guy on the motorcycle? You seem to know him,” you questioned, earning a disgruntled sigh in response.

“'S my brother,” he responded after a moment's hesitation. “He's back in town fer a while but I dun' know why. He hasn't bothered to come see me.”

“Merle's back?” you asked, trying to keep the distaste out of your voice, but failing miserably, causing a small smile to fall on Daryl's face.

It was no secret to Daryl that you despised his brother. The few limited interactions you had with the man were enough to fuel your distaste. Merle either made sexual passes at you, insulted you or questioned your intentions with Daryl. When you didn't fall for his advances or insults, he'd take a jab at your friendship with his younger brother, claiming that Daryl was "pussy whipped" and that you were taking advantage of him. Daryl always immediately shut him down, but that never stopped Merle. Each time it took walking back into your trailer to get the man to shut up.

“Yeah,” Daryl confirmed, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “I think he joined tha' new motorcycle gang. He's a stupid son of a bitch, my brother. Never learns his lesson, but wha' can I do? He ain't ever gonna listen to me.”

“He's a grown man. He'll hopefully learn from his mistakes,” you started, knowing your words probably weren't much comfort for him right now. “If you want, I can punch some sense into him. I've been wanting to punch him for a while now.”

That seemed to lighten Daryl's mood a bit. His lips twitched into a half smile. “Nah, but thanks fer the kind offer. I'll let ya know if I ever need ya to punch him fer me.”

“Please do. I'll practice and everything,” you joked, playfully punching the air in front of you for added effect, eliciting a small chuckle from him.

“Alrigh', Bruce Lee, we're here,” he laughed quietly, parking the car outside the store.

The two of you got out of the truck and moved to the store. Once inside, Daryl grabbed a shopping cart and leaned his arms on the handle bar, looking at you expectantly. “Where to first, boss lady?”

You giggled and took the grocery list from the back pocket of your jeans, unfolding the paper and starting your list. “We'll come back to the period things later. Let's get the necessities out of the way first.”

Daryl pushed the cart as he followed behind you, walking into one of the grocery aisles. “Tampons ain't a necessity?” he asked, curiously watching you search for the cheapest pasta before adding it to the cart.

You shrugged and walked on, hearing the squeaks from the wheels on the cart following closely behind. “It is, but not before food. I can always improvise or ask one of the neighbour ladies for it, but I don't want to ask for food.”

Daryl nodded, although you couldn't see him. “Yeah, tha's understandable,” he said, his eyes scanning over the products in the aisle.

You continued grabbing things on your list, adding them to the cart. You even grabbed two bags of chips and the Coke you promised Daryl, as well as a drink for yourself. After that, you made your way over to the feminine hygiene section and started looking over the various different choices, searching for your preferred items.

“Wha' the fuck?” you heard Daryl whisper behind you, prompting you to turn around and look at him. You giggled at the sight in front of you; Daryl holding a pack of pads whilst his eyes trailed over the different period products, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What?” you asked with a giggle, gaining Daryl's attention.

“Why the hell do y'all need so many different things fer yer pussy blood?” he asked bluntly, eliciting an amused laugh from you.

“First of all, don't call it pussy blood. That's disgusting. Second of all, it's all about preference. Some women prefer pads, others prefer tampons and other things. And not everyone is the same. Some women have heavier flows and some women need bigger tampons and pads than others,” you explained, amused at the deep frown Daryl wore.

Daryl nodded slowly. “Alrigh',” he started. “But still, it's a lot. Tampons, pads... And wha' the hell is a fuckin' diva cup? Y'all use tha' to make tea fer yer pussies or somethin'?”

“No,” you responded, laughing lightly at the confused man. “I don't know how a diva cup works because I've never used one, but it's for our periods. Like I said, preference. Some women prefer diva cups over pads and tampons.”

Daryl shook his head slightly and turned away from the shelves, focusing his eyes back on you. “Well, ya got whatever pads or tampons ya prefer? Or do ya use somethin' else that wasn't named in yer explanation?”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, amused. You grabbed a box of tampons, as well as a box of pads, and added them to the cart. “No, I use pads and tampons, don't worry.”

“Why would I worry?” Daryl asked, pushing the cart as the two of you walked over to pay for the groceries.

“I just meant that you didn't have to worry about there being any more "period product" surprises. I don't think you would've been able to handle it if I told you there was more,” you explained.

“Well... 'S there?” he asked hesitantly, chewing on his lower lip.

“Yeah.”

You walked ahead to the checkout aisle, leaving Daryl baffled behind you. He sped up to catch up to you, and together you started unloading the items.

“This was more than I bargained fer when I offered to come to the store with ya,” Daryl said, handing off items to be scanned.

“I said I would walk,” you replied nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders. “Would've spared you the headache you got from looking at all those different brands and stuff.”

“Nah, I'd take the headache over somethin' happenin' to ya. Walkin' alone ain't safe,” he retorted, giving you a stern look.

“I would've been fine.”

“Maybe, but I wouldn't risk it. Still ain't gonna risk it.”

“Ah, young love,” the lady working at the cash register interrupted, startling both you and Daryl. “You two lovebirds are absolutely adorable.”

Daryl ducked his head in embarrassment, a blush spreading across his face. You could feel your own face flush with heat as well.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, handing the owed amount over to the cashier before moving over to grab a few bags.

Daryl followed your lead and grabbed most of the bags. Together the two of you walked out of the store and over to his truck. You placed the bags in the back of the truck before getting into the passenger side, Daryl getting into the driver's side. He silently started up the vehicle and pulled out of the parking lot, starting the drive back to the trailer park.

“Thank you, by the way,” you said after a few minutes of silence, shifting Daryl's attention to you.

“Fer wha'?” he asked in confusion, shifting his eyes from the road to you and then back again.

“The ride. And for making me laugh. It was nice.”

“My confusion was amusin' to ya?” he asked with a small smile, glancing over to you.

“No, but the things you said were. Especially the thing about the diva cup. Comedy gold right there,” you said with a smile, gaining a quiet chuckle in return.

“Glad I could make ya laugh,” he replied, before a look of realisation crossed his face. “Wait, ain't ya supposed to be in pain? From wha' I know, period's are supposed to hurt.”

At his words, realisation dawned on you. You could suddenly feel a dull ache in your lower abdomen, a telltale sign of a greater pain awaiting you in a few hours. You just hoped that you had some ibuprofen left back at home.

“I'm fine for now,” you reassured him. “The pain's manageable.”

Daryl nodded. The rest of the drive was spent in silence, save for the rumble of the engine and the wind coming through the open windows. You stared outside at the rising moon, the stars starting to light up the approaching night sky. The trailer park soon came into view and Daryl pulled up to your trailer instead of his, putting the vehicle into park. However, instead of getting out, Daryl tensed up as he stared ahead at his trailer.

You followed his line of sight and saw what he was looking at; his father leading a woman into the trailer. His father shut the door behind him, effectively cutting off your line of sight. You turned to Daryl and saw his jaw clenched in anger, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as his mind seemed to be in another place. You doubted that Daryl even remembered you were still in the truck with him.

“You can stay over if you want,” you said quietly, snapping Daryl from his wandering thoughts. “My mom's working the night shift down at the bar. I've got the trailer to myself tonight and I wouldn't mind having some company.”

Daryl hesitated for a moment. “Ya sure? I can go home. Doubt the old man would notice me slippin' in anyway.”

You nodded your head at him. “I'm sure. Come on.”

Daryl followed you from the truck and into your trailer, carrying most of the bags so that you could unlock the door. Once you were inside and he placed the bags down, he silently admired you as you grabbed a bowl to pour the bought chips into.

Daryl appreciated the fact that you never pried. He had told you once about his father and what he did to him because you'd accidentally caught sight of one of the scars on his back. However, instead of pity, you offered him comfort and understanding, telling him that you were there if he ever needed to talk to someone or needed an escape. You never brought up his home life or his scars, and only ever talked about it if he initiated the sensitive conversation first, which was rare. Because of that, Daryl was convinced that you were an angel in human form. You understood him in a way nobody did, and he would forever be grateful for the chance he got to know you.

You could feel Daryl's intense gaze on you and you could feel your face heat up. Daring to be confident for a moment, you glanced up and locked eyes with him. “See something you like?”

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed in agreement, completely capturing you off guard. You inhaled sharply and tried to slow your racing heart.

Daryl inwardly cursed himself. He hadn't meant to let that slip, but he had gotten so lost in his thoughts and admiration of you that he acted before properly thinking. He blushed for what felt like the thousandth time that day and ducked his head, finding the floor very interesting all of a sudden.

“Well,” you started after clearing your throat, grabbing the bowl of chips and the drinks you bought for you both and walking the short distance into the living room, Daryl hot on your tail. “I'm glad you enjoyed the view. It's my "I desperately need to wash my hair" look.”

Daryl chuckled but said nothing. He got comfortable on the couch, sitting beside you as you handed him the Coke you promised him. “Thanks,” he said, nudging his nose up at you in a nod. “How's yer stomach?”

“Surprisingly okay. I guess the pain decided to give me a break for now. I probably won't be so lucky tomorrow, though,” you responded.

You grabbed the remote and hit play on the movie that Daryl had picked out earlier before you went into town, the opening sequence playing loudly. However, about ten minutes into the movie, Daryl took the remote from you and paused it again, confusing you.

“Can I ask ya somethin'?” he asked unexpectedly, his face conveying how nervous he was.

“Of course,” you replied without hesitation, shifting on the couch until your body completely faced him.

“I dun'... I dun' really know how to ask ya this, and I really hope this won't ruin anythin' between us, but I need to know if ya feel the same,” Daryl nervously said, fiddling with his hands in his lap.

“Daryl, what-”

“Nah, let me finish, please. 'S jus'... Yer so perfect to me, y'know tha'? Yer so kind, so carin', so affectionate. Yer basically a ray of sunshine. Yer the complete opposite of me, and ya could spend yer time with someone who deserves ya, but ya choose to hang out with me. Even though 'm damaged goods and I ain't gonna be nothin' more than a dumb, redneck scum, ya always treat me like 'm this fine piece of priceless art or somethin', and I dun' get why. Yer-”

The sudden pressure of your lips against his instantly shut him up. His eyes widened for a moment before he closed them, his hands instinctively going to rest on your waist. The kiss was slow and hesitant, but loving and sweet at the same time. It was perfect and neither of you wanted it to end, but you soon pulled away, looking into Daryl's ocean coloured eyes.

“You're not damaged goods and you're not a dumb, redneck scum. Don't ever say that about yourself again, you hear me?” you told him quietly, your hands gently resting on his cheeks. After he nodded, you continued. “Where's all of this coming from? I'm not complaining at all, but it's kind of unexpected.”

“I've felt this way fer a while now,” he explained, taking one of your hands off of his face and playing with your fingers. “I never said anythin' because I didn't want to scare ya off, but after tha' lady called us 'lovebirds' and ya offered to let me stay over without question after ya saw my expression earlier... I dun' know, I guess I jus' needed to let ya know how I felt. Didn't know if ya'd feel the same, though.”

You smiled at him and leaned forward to press another kiss to his lips, this one more firm and sure than the first one. “I do feel the same,” you confirmed after you pulled away. “I just never thought you'd like me.”

“Guess we both wasted time not sayin' anythin' 'til now, huh?” he asked, giving you a boyish smile.

“Definitely,” you nodded in agreement, a huge smile on your face.

“I guess we have to thank yer time of the month fer this happenin',” Daryl said. “If it didn't start and we didn't go to the store, tha' lady never would've called us 'lovebirds' and we never would've seen my father and tha' woman enterin' the trailer, so ya wouldn't have asked me to stay over. I probably would've gone home by now if we didn't have to go to the store and probably would've never gotten the balls to say anythin'.”

“I never thought I would be this grateful for my period, but I am now,” you said, leaning your forehead against his.

Daryl closed the remaining gap between the two of you, the two of you descending into a slow, hungry kiss. You brought your arms around his neck and his arms encircled around your waist, bringing you closer into his arms. As the two of you got lost in the moment, you didn't hear the trailer door opening, too caught up in each other to hear anything else. However, the clearing of someone's throat startled you, the two of you practically jumping apart.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” your mom asked with a raised eyebrow, her hands on her hips as she looked over the two of you.

You looked over at Daryl, your face flaming with heat at being caught by your mom. Daryl's eyes widened as fear crossed his face, his breathing heavy from your previous actions. You turned your attention back to your mom and sighed.

“Mom, don't freak out. I promise I can explain.”

[lhrry]

[drdemonprince]

i was on NPR talking about Autism shit two weeks ago, and i have the book sales figures from that week and that national media appearance had.... absolutely zero relationship to sales. on the typical week these days, 1,400 to 1,500 copies of Unmasking Autism will sell. The week that I was on NPR there was a slight dip; only about 1,300 books were sold.

i have done a lot of press for my books. For Laziness Does Not Exist I did easily a 100 damn podcasts and radio shows and newspapers and excerpts in magazines. none of it corresponded to a noticeable bump in sales. the biggest "get" my publicist found for my latest book was the Glennon Doyle show, a booking she and her team celebrated and then spent months clamboring excitedly for... it, too, had no obvious relationship to sales.

Unmasking Autism became a bestseller because some other guy made a tiktok about it, and then a bunch of tiktokkers made videos about it too. all on their own. without any prodding from me, or any relationship to me. it was completely organic, passionate, and sincere, and rooted in the book's true merits and usefulness to other people, and that's why it inspired lots of sales. and continues to more than a year and a half later. all the press I did for Unmasking Autism prior to the release of that tiktok did relatively far less. NPR, Goop, the LA Times, Lit Hub, Jacobin, Huffpo, the New York Times, the Financial Times, MSNBC, Business Insider. Didn't matter. at least not much. so why do i bother?

publishers really ride your ass trying to make you give lots of interviews and show up for lots of events but it's all based on the worship of traditional media and magical thinking that it will somehow convert listeners into buyers. and that's just not how it works. the truth is 95% of books never sell more than 5,000 copies, and most people don't buy books or read them. i love reading but i dont think this is itself some terrible loss, as most books are padded-out commodities made for sale more than a work of true artistic passion or scholarly merit, and sometimes listening to a 90 minute interview with an author tells you the bulk of what you need to know.

it's freeing to know that the effort i put into getting my books out into the world have almost zero relationship to the books' success. marketing just does not work. it's a relief. unmasking autism did fabulously because it's actually both good and useful. laziness has had a long life span because it speaks to real problems in people's lives and gives them a message they are desperate to hear. but no amount of thirsty ass online shilling will make somebody realize that and it's maddening to try. you just gotta focus on doing good work, work that you enjoy making or need to make and that you feel good about, let things flop if theyre gonna flop, and keep on living your life.

which is all good news because i really do hate a lot of these fucking interviews. how can i stomach being on npr or in the atlantic or whatever these days given how complicit nearly all major media outlets are in justifying this genocide. like who fuckin cares about them, who wants their approval. who needs it. it's of no value