#blackwriters — Public Fediverse posts

@authorshannondianne, a Black Queen, wrote:

Hi, cousins. So, in 2013, I wrote a book.

And then [publishing] agents told me to make the leading lady white because Black [Women and Men] didn’t have time

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#blackwomen #92percent #blackauthors #blackwriters #blackbooks #blackmastodon

@authorshannondianne, a Black Queen, wrote:

Hi, cousins. So, in 2013, I wrote a book.

And then [publishing] agents told me to make the leading lady white because Black [Women and Men] didn’t have time

(1/3)

#blackwomen #92percent #blackauthors #blackwriters #blackbooks #blackmastodon

@authorshannondianne, a Black Queen, wrote:

Hi, cousins. So, in 2013, I wrote a book.

And then [publishing] agents told me to make the leading lady white because Black [Women and Men] didn’t have time

(1/3)

#blackwomen #92percent #blackauthors #blackwriters #blackbooks #blackmastodon

@authorshannondianne, a Black Queen, wrote:

Hi, cousins. So, in 2013, I wrote a book.

And then [publishing] agents told me to make the leading lady white because Black [Women and Men] didn’t have time

(1/3)

#blackwomen #92percent #blackauthors #blackwriters #blackbooks #blackmastodon

@authorshannondianne, a Black Queen, wrote:

Hi, cousins. So, in 2013, I wrote a book.

And then [publishing] agents told me to make the leading lady white because Black [Women and Men] didn’t have time

(1/3)

#blackwomen #92percent #blackauthors #blackwriters #blackbooks #blackmastodon

Toni Morrison describes Seven Days in Song of Solomon. Each day was the responsibility of a Black Person. If you read in the papers that a Black Person was killed on your day, say Tuesday, then it was your responsibility to kill a random white person of that gender and age on a Tuesday.

#blackwomen #blackauthors #blackwriters #blackmastodon

Toni Morrison describes Seven Days in Song of Solomon. Each day was the responsibility of a Black Person. If you read in the papers that a Black Person was killed on your day, say Tuesday, then it was your responsibility to kill a random white person of that gender and age on a Tuesday.

#blackwomen #blackauthors #blackwriters #blackmastodon

Toni Morrison describes Seven Days in Song of Solomon. Each day was the responsibility of a Black Person. If you read in the papers that a Black Person was killed on your day, say Tuesday, then it was your responsibility to kill a random white person of that gender and age on a Tuesday.

#blackwomen #blackauthors #blackwriters #blackmastodon

Toni Morrison describes Seven Days in Song of Solomon. Each day was the responsibility of a Black Person. If you read in the papers that a Black Person was killed on your day, say Tuesday, then it was your responsibility to kill a random white person of that gender and age on a Tuesday.

#blackwomen #blackauthors #blackwriters #blackmastodon

Toni Morrison describes Seven Days in Song of Solomon. Each day was the responsibility of a Black Person. If you read in the papers that a Black Person was killed on your day, say Tuesday, then it was your responsibility to kill a random white person of that gender and age on a Tuesday.

#blackwomen #blackauthors #blackwriters #blackmastodon

“Of Couture and Supers” Full-Length Chapter Preview”

Ellen Montclaire’s office had never looked more like a war room disguised as a sanctuary. The Spartan lines of her desk, the aviator frames catching the late-afternoon light, the faint scent of tuberose and something sharper-gun oil, perhaps, or the particular perfume of people who had already decided who would live. Jim Nelson stood at her left, GQ’s editor-in-chief in charcoal Tom Ford that made him look like a very expensive executioner. I had barely closed the door when Mike and Ian arrived with River between them, two plainclothes officers peeling off at the threshold like shadows that knew their place.

River looked intact. That was the first mercy. His jaw was tight, his eyes already scanning the room the way a House mother scans a ballroom for shade and safety. He crossed to me without speaking and took my hand under the desk, a private gesture that would have been unthinkable six weeks ago.

Ellen did not waste time on greetings. “The text,” she said. “Read it again, Alcide. Out loud. I want everyone in this room to hear the exact temperature of the threat.”

I did. The rhyme sat in the air like cheap cologne.

River exhaled through his nose. “Of course she got out. Of course she found the one man in Texas who still thinks my dead name is a prayer. Mother never needed a lawyer so much as she needed an audience. Jarrett Morgan is her new front row.”

Jim’s voice was dry as good gin. “Forrester’s counsel is the sort who bills in blood types. She walked because the Reagans’ deaths were ruled justifiable by the agents on that rooftop. The insurance policies, however, remain. Two million each. That kind of money does not forgive. It only waits.”

“They’ll try to paint us as unstable,” River said. “Unstable, ungrateful, un-American. They’ll leak something during Paris-photos, a planted story, a ‘concerned source’ who swears we were seen with the wrong people at the wrong hour. Mother always preferred character assassination before the actual kind.”

Ellen’s gaze could have cut Givenchy silk. “The fashion houses, the magazines, the designers who matter-they already know who you are. They know the Lancaster-Monroe line. They know River Forrester is not a scandal; he is a fact. Anyone who attempts to discredit either of you will find their invitations revoked before the first look walks. That is not sentiment. That is policy.”

I kept my voice even. “What do we actually do? Besides look expensive and refuse to die.”

Jim answered. “FBI and CIA have already coordinated with Interpol. The French, Italian, and British details have your files. Several of our people-heroes who do not clock out when the lights go down-will travel with the official parties. You will not be alone in a corridor, a fitting room, or a hotel elevator. You will also not be reckless. Recklessness is a luxury for people whose grandparents did not leave a ledger.”

River’s thumb brushed my knuckles. “We already made that promise on a rooftop, Jim. We keep it.”

Ellen stood. The movement was small and final, the way Miranda Priestly used to stand when a collection had been approved or a career ended. “Tomorrow morning you meet Ra’Keem, Ja’Nisha, and Snow. Wardrobe upgrade. Style seminar. Paris is not New York with better bread. Paris is a stage that remembers every misstep for a decade. You will walk it as Guardians-in-training and as the last two interns who refused to fold. You will look as if you were born to it because, in the only way that matters, you were.”

Emilia entered without knocking, tablet in hand, the itinerary already glowing. She set it between us like a treaty.

“Monday: arrival, fittings at the Ritz, dinner with the Mughelli and Watanabe representatives. Tuesday: Dior, then the liaison briefing with the French detail. Wednesday: Givenchy and the first September-issue roundtable. Thursday: Valentino, followed by the private salon for the Asian houses. Friday: Chanel and the night the villains usually try something theatrical. You will also continue every ordinary duty-coffee, proofs, dry cleaning, holding a lens when Marcel needs a second pair of hands that do not shake. The celebrities will still test you. The politicians will still want to be seen with you. You will still be the ones who remember the oat-milk shot and the exact temperature of a smoothie.”

I almost smiled. Almost.

Ellen’s voice dropped into the register that used to make entire floors go silent. “Paris Fashion Week is the beginning of the public proof. You do not merely attend. You represent the bridge your grandparents built and your parents burned. You will show the world that chosen family, hard work, and the refusal to become furniture are not weaknesses. They are the only currency that still holds.”

River looked at me then, really looked, the way he had in my apartment the night we stopped pretending we were only allies. “We said it before they took me. We watch each other’s backs. We finish the summer. We show them who we are when the cameras are on and when they are not. This time we do it knowing the knives are already drawn.”

I squeezed his hand once, hard enough to mean it. “Say less.”

Ellen’s mouth did the smallest thing that might have been approval. “Good. Now get out of my office. Both of you have a city to survive and a wardrobe that is currently insufficient for what is coming. Tomorrow you will look like you belong in every room that ever tried to keep you out. That is not optional.”

We stood. Mike and Ian fell in behind us without being asked. The officers at the door nodded once, the way men nod when they have already decided they will take a bullet if the arithmetic requires it.

In the elevator River leaned his forehead against the cool metal for three seconds. “She’s going to try to make us look like the problem,” he said quietly. “Like we brought the violence with us.”

“Then we will be so precisely ourselves that the lie won’t have anywhere to sit,” I answered.

The doors opened onto the sixth floor that no longer felt like an intern’s floor. My new office waited. The passport would arrive tomorrow. The clothes would be chosen tomorrow. The threat had already arrived.

We walked toward the next hour the way people walk toward a ballroom when they already know the judges are watching and the prize is simply remaining standing.

No looking back.

“Of Couture and Supers” has fashionably returned with new chapters and plenty of drama! You’ll never forget the first time! Available EXCLUSIVELY on Wattpad! Don’t miss it!

“Ry’Mir’s Dive” Sneak Preview and the Next Book of the Series

Dr. Tucker’s office, the following day…

Sure enough, my usual teammates (Dioncel, Tre’Von, and Andre), Coach Langley, Chi’Anna & Ra’Nada (representing the Vogues with the former’s dad also in tow), Enrique (representing the Denzels),and I were in the good therapist’s office. Colton was also there with me, knowing that the final stage of this confessional was going to be mandatory if I was to not only gain closure with my past but also prepare me with the football and cheerleading teams, Dean DeGrawue, and “The Devil of the Pool.”

And despite the waves of nerves threatening to crash me out, I had to see this through to the end.

“Ry’Mir, last night was a long night for you and Colton,” Dr. Tucker stated after a bit of small talk. “It wasn’t easy for you boys to go beyond your comfort zone despite the consequences if you didn’t attend those gridiron boys’ party. How are you feeling at the moment?”

I inhaled deeply. “Honestly? I’m a mixed bag of emotions,” I admitted. “Mad because I was far from prepared despite all that we could do. Scared because ‘The Devil of the Pool’ could be watching and listening in on this without warning. And yet, I’m also feeling tired of having to run away from the past and ready because I want to be able to control my story from my point of view without being threatened with exiled or seen in a bad way. I just want this over and done, you know?”

“Including this session about Costello?” Tre’Von asked.

“Especially that.”

Dr. Tucker went into therapist mode as she grabbed her notes and pen. “Then let’s get started,” she said. “The days leading up to the eventual arrest of Costello, how was your mindset and headspace?”

With a nod from Coach, I dove right in. “Me having to play the games of survival with a man who can ruin your reputation if you didn’t warm his bed was like…it was like I was diving into the deeper parts of an inactive volcano,” I began. “I didn’t want to let him taint my body any more than he already had, but I also didn’t want to be sent to one of the state-run group run homes where kids like me were either beaten or left for themselves. So, I had to play the role of his young lover, let him take me into his pool house after coaching me on my diving techniques or when I had a meet for my school’s team or that in the YMCA.”

“Did your foster parents have any clue on what was going on?” Coach asked gently.

“If they did, I didn’t notice anything and I was wise enough to not let it show how I was hurting when I sat down. The man meant every word- if I didn’t comply or thought about telling Joel or Lois, he’d spin it to make them think that I came on to him and send me away without a fair chance,” I answered. “But on that fateful day, you can pretty much guess that things were about to go down south. Not for me, but for him…”

*********

FLASHBACK (The Day of Reckoning)…

The good news was that Joel and Lois had themselves an off day from their restaurant, allowing themselves time to step back and let loose.

The bad news was that they decided to go to the movies while believing that I needed someone to look after me while they were gone. And that someone, which was the worst news, was Costello because Joel thought that he could use some time away from his home and more time in theirs. “Plus, we know that he’s protective of you and says that you give him no trouble at all,” Lois said as she and her husband were on their way out the door. “So make sure to mind him and give him your undivided attention, Ry’Mir.”

As if I had any choice.

Soon after I came from a relaxing shower after a grueling workout session and a swim at the YMCA, the man was at the door with his shirt removed and his eyes were full of lust. “Such a pretty boy for me,” he said as he climbed on top of my naked body and started kissing my stomach and chest. “My, Lois and Joel are lucky enough to have you in their home.”

“Please stop,” I whimpered. “I’ll tell if you-“

“If you do open your mouth, no one’s going to believe you since you’ll be seen as a jealous liar and a little boy-slut,” he hissed in a seductive yet threatening manner. “You don’t want to make them mad at you, do you?”

I shook my head no, knowing that he was right. If I even dared to tell anyone about him grooming and molesting me, he’d paint me as the bad guy while he would get away with everything.

“Then you’ll play ball with me and I’ll make sure that you’ll be rewarded for your silence,” he said as he reached into his discarded jeans and grabbed some condoms. “Not only that, I’ll make sure that you’ll remember me as your first time. And I can be very generous to little pretty boys like you.“

All I could do was steel my tears from falling down my face as I let him place my legs on his shoulders before sheathing himself with the condom.

“Make this go away, God,” I thought to myself as he entered himself into me. “Let this nightmare end because I-“

“Oh, my Lord! Ry’Mir!”

My stomach dropped low to see a stunned Lois and her furious husband at the doorway, the latter ready to punch his friend in the nose. Only the man didn’t bother slowing down his pace as he ravished me. “J-Joel. Lois,” I whimpered.

It all happened so fast. One moment, Costello was continuously enjoying himself while I had to take it. The next moment, the man was thrown off of me while Lois wrapped me in a towel before sirens filled the air outside. “He liked it, you know?! Your little boy-slut was asking for it,” the disgraced man sneered as he was led away in handcuffs, Joel fighting the urge to knock the man out again as onlookers took in the sight outside.

“Ry’Mir, how long did he take advantage of you like this?” Lois asked while officers were by her side in the living room. “I’m not mad at you, honey. I need to know the truth.”

It was time to come clean as I finally let the waterworks go into overdrive and I told them everything. “I’m so sorry,” I bawled as I was wrapped in a hug. “Please don’t send me away. I had to keep quiet because he could paint me as the bad guy.”

“Son, you have nothing to be sorry for,” one female officer said gently. “We had him on our radar for a while, and your testimony will ensure that he gets what he deserves.”

“I agreed,” Joel grunted as his glare softened when he faced me. “Ry’Mir, I am so sorry I trusted that shithead into your care. If I had known, I would’ve gladly ended him sooner. The worst fact is that Lois and I were blind to the whole thing and the man had his sadistic thrill with other boys before you. So you’ve saved your life as well as those other boys.”

I only let the tears fall as I was gradually led into a whirlwind of testimonies at trials, days spent in solitude thinking, and even a period where I had to take basic therapy sessions with other survivors of child/teen molestation. But the moment the man was convicted and sent to prison, I made a vow: I wanted to bury the past and only move forward by focusing on my diving competitions and academics.

It was time for me to go forward, but in my own way…

***********

PRESENT-DAY

I inhaled deeply, not caring if the tears were cascading from my eyes as I knew everyone else was doing the same. “Some days were better than others,” I finished. “And before coming here, I had a few nightmares that left me sleepless at times for days. But I had to push all my feelings down and lock them away if I wanted to keep my eyes forward.”

“My God, Ry’Mir,” Ra’Nada said, stifling a sob as she accepted a tissue from a stone-faced Andre. “This whole story is…wow.”

“But now, we gotta deal with these people who seem to know about Ry’Mir’s story and are planning to expose him at the next meet,” Dioncel stated, crossing his arms. “And that’s today as we’re facing off against Howard.”

To me, “I hate to suggest this, bro, but you need to sit that meet out for your safety. These football trolls and cheerleaders aren’t playing around, and neither is Dean DeGrawue.”

“Well, the meet’s postponed for today since they had a lockdown scare,” Coach Langley stated. “But they’re going to meet with us the week after next. And I disagree, Dioncel. Ry’Mir said that he wants to tell this story for himself and keep control of the matter by his own terms.”

“But what happens if Ry’Mir gets jumped?” Andre asked. “Or worse? And we still have no idea on who this ‘Devil of the Pool’ is. Incredible!”

“Then that’s the chance I’ll have to make,” I stated. To my coach, “Can you get me that appointment with the school’s president?”

“Already done,” Enrique interjected. “He actually wants to see you for some reason, Ry’Mir. And I warned him that if he turns on you just because of your past, he’ll be answering to me and all the Denzels and Vogues.”

“That goes double for me,” Dr. Tucker said. “And yes, he knows about these therapy settings with you, Tre’Von, Dioncel, and Andre. And I told him that things are getting serious with your situation. So he’ll want to talk to you over tea. When is it?”

“Tomorrow. His private quarters, which isn’t far from the natatorium. You’ll be there after practice tomorrow.”

I nodded. “I don’t know how things will go after tomorrow, you guys, but I’m done running away from the storm. This time, I’m going to go into it.”

And that was the truth.

You’ll never forget the first time! We’re approaching the final ten chapters of ” Ry’Mir’s Dive (book one of “The Aqua Men of Harvick University” series),” available EXCLUSIVELY on Wattpad! This marks the start of the grand-finale extravaganza. Don’t miss it! 

And Coming January 2027… Dioncel’s Story is Told! “Dioncel’s Winter” is Book Two of the Series.

“The Guardian of Couture” Teaser Promo, Part One

Couture Magazine isn’t just a fashion bible — it’s a battleground. Behind the glossy covers and celebrity spreads lies a world where interns are tested beyond coffee runs and copy machines. From clogged toilets to 24/7 on-call chaos, survival means shedding illusions and stepping into the fire.

But the real test? The Primal Premiere. That’s when the staff — those impossibly beautiful, retro-glasses-wearing editors — reveal their true selves. And if you’re not ready for what’s underneath, you’re not ready for Couture.

I should know. I lived it.

My name is Alcide Lancaster. I survived the summer internship that changed everything — spandex, secrets, Fashion Week madness, and the September Issue. I uncovered a legacy my grandparents once protected, one my family rejected. But I embraced it, with allies, love, and legends by my side.

This is my story.

You’ll never forget the first time.
Exclusively on Wattpad, hitting the runway May 2026. Don’t miss it!

Nuzo Onoh (born 22 September 1962)

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