life in publishing

lordofchoripan  asked:

I COULD tell Fernanda to take down Incipere chapter 1 from the Internet... Or I also could make the link public and show scans and pictures of the hardcopy, paper issues of Incipere that were actually sold. You're giving me too much power here, bro

shhhhh don’t tease the fanbase…it ain’t big enough yet 

it’s been 3 months since Carrie died. and i was thinking today, it’s sort of… it’s comforting to know that she was happy with her life. she was writing, publishing a new book. she was doing tv. she was doing movies. she was doing star wars again. like, you could see she was in a good place. she stole the spotlight during the promotion for tfa and she was going to do it again for tlj. she “shocked” everyone by announcing she had an affair with harrison ford 40 years ago, and she wrote a book on it. she didn’t give a fuck. she did campaign against trump and she told people to go fuck themselves; she congratulated a pregnant interviewer on the sex; she told ellen degeneres she was open to dating an oxford professor; she showed an interviewer the middle finger after he said anyone would look good sitting beside jabba the hutt; she joked about how other people’s opinions on her appearance hurt 3 of her feelings even tho she was hurt by it; she wanted to move to the uk bc she didn’t want to live in the same country as trump; she threw a birthday party at a hotel in italy at 2am and the cops showed up at 5am to stop the party; she was strong, and she was honest, and she was brave.

it’s comforting to know what a thrill her life was, and that she still lived it intensely. but it’s also so fucking unfair exactly because of that. it was too soon.

4

Add me on beamchat, @viva_america. I follow back, I promise.

I just want one person to fight for me. To make me feel like I’m worth never letting go. I need someone to fight for me so selflessly and passionately; so much so, I can feel it through the universe. I want someone to hold on tight to me, because they know I’m worth it, the way I know I’m worth it.
—  Treka L. House
I do love you. I still love you.
I will never tell you that, though. There’s no use. Our time is over. Telling myself this is most difficult when I see you. When you speak to me. When I see you at that bar neither of us
gave up since our break up or the corner gas station. I hate how small this town is. I love you though.

You’re still so sweet to me. You say hello, with that smile that could melt thin air. Your eyes still look at me the same. Or is it that I only still choose to look at them the same? My heart beats out of my chest, if you looked hard enough you’d see it. You say hello, then we have a short conversation. But my heart knows no boundaries. My words are homesick and miss you being their home. I love you and my heart can’t keep secrets. So when we say goodbye, there’s nothing more my heart wants than to grab your hand and tell you I love you. I miss my lips on your forehead before you’d leave. Remember that?

I can’t say I love you. But I can’t say goodbye.
So instead I cope with this by using any other three word phrase. See you later, take care now, until next time. It’s saying it, without saying it. Those three words, each word replacing the ones I wish I could still use. I’m getting better at it. I’m getting better at loving you from afar.

You looked beautiful tonight,
You were never one to wear white. You’d always wear black. At least with me. You’ve curled your hair in a way I’ve never seen before. A bit more messy, good messy. You looked so alive. I’m glad we’re both still in this small town I hate, running into each other every now and then. Because you make me feel alive too.

“Until next time.”
—  Those Three Words // a.m.g.

I really give credit to those who change for the better, who realize their own negative or toxic way of thinking has prevented themselves from moving forward or has prevented others from realizing their own potentials. True confidence does not come from knocking down other people but by encouraging those people to strive to be better.

No matter what happened in the past, you can change. You can improve. You can be better than the person you were yesterday and you can make a difference in your life. The ball is in your court.

And remember your dreams are valid; don’t make anyone feel they have the right to keep you from soaring too high into the sun.

It’s your flight, if they were so concerned about you getting burned they would have giving you sun block before you ventured out into the unknown. Only insecure people will try to clip your wings, before you even had the chance to know how far you could fly.

—  Joanna Strafford
The Reader and the Writer (Part 2)

Originally posted by stydiaislove

Part one here

Anon requests: can you please do a part two of “The reader and the writer”? i’m shook, lost and now stressed over who she really is

The Reader and the Writer is amazingggg! Are u gonna do a part 2?? I wanna read more!!

could you do a part 2 of the reader and the writer, i’m obsessed!!!

Is there going to be a part 2 for The Reader and the Writer? Can there be a part 2? I loved it by the way :)

PART TWO OF THE READER AND THE WRITER PLEASE OMFG

Omigod, I love your Reader and Writer imagine soooooo much, are you going to write a part two??

OK PLEASE WRITE A PART TWO TO THE READER AND THE WRITER IS WAS SO GOOD!

Wtf?!? The reader and the writer is honestly amazing! I love it 😍 2pt maybe? I wanna know what happens with the reader and Jason

I love love love the reader and the writer, if you aren’t too busy could you please update it with a second part soon? I can’t bear to be left for days without knowing what Jughead found 😂 thanks x

Will there be a part 2 of “the reader and the writer”? Its really good! I hope you will write more of it!

I love this new jughead imagine ! Are you writing a part 2 ?

OH MY GOD PART 2 ASAP

I really love your writing! I’m very excited about part 2 for the Reader and the writer

part 2 of “The Reader and the Writer” ?? it’s greattt 😭

please do a part 2 of the reader and the writer!@@@ I need more!

Can you please do part two or the reader and writer?!?! It is so good!!

The reader and the writer was amazing and i got too attached. Part 2 please if you don’t mind.

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: A confrontation ensues between the reader and the writer

Warnings: none

Word count: 887

A/N: I’m glad you guys liked the first part so much! Enjoy part 2!


(Y/N) didn’t return to Pop’s.  Every night, Jughead sat in his normal booth typing on his computer, but his eyes constantly flicked up towards the entrance.  His friends noticed his shift in attitude.

“Jug,” Archie sat across from him, “you gotta snap out of this.”

“Out of what?” Jughead asked monotonously, rolling his eyes.  “I’m fine, Archie.”

“I know you like to sit here and brood all mysteriously,” Veronica interjected, “but this is sad. Just call (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” he scoffed.  “This isn’t about (Y/N).”  When the entire table sent him disbelieving looks, he sighed and looked out the window.  “I already called her.”

“How many times?” Kevin asked with a smirk.  Jughead sighed again, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

“Every night.” Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Kevin all shared a knowing glance.  “I know what you guys are thinking and no, it’s not like that.  I’m not some pathetically smitten person, okay?”

“Okay, Jughead,” Betty said, but rolled her eyes.  “If you insist.”


To say (Y/N) felt guilty would be an understatement.  From the moment she stomped out of that diner, regret gnawed at her inside out. Without the consistency of her nightly stops in Pop’s, she didn’t know what to do with herself.  She spent every night after school in her room sulking. Every night, her phone rang, lighting up with Jughead’s name.  She was tempted to answer it every night, her finger hovering over the answer button, but then she turned away and ignored his call.  (Y/N) missed Pop’s: she missed the delicious foods, the quiet yet comforting atmosphere, and the person who sat across from her in their usual booth.  


One day, Jughead sat with an uneaten burger in front of him, laptop closed.  Today had been an especially slow day, both in Jughead’s mind and Pop’s.  Suddenly, a jingle of the bell signaled that someone new entered the diner.  Jughead sat up a bit to see who it was.  When he identified the new customer, he perked up immediately.  Grabbing a book, he shot up and walked over to the table where she had just sat down.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” he said, slamming down the book in front of her, “is an author from the 18th century.  She wrote four novels, all of them published under an alias at first.  It was not until two hundred years later that the true author was discovered.  She has been dead for over two hundred years, and she is most certainly not you.”  (Y/N) looked up at him with wide eyes.

“What, I can’t have the same name as someone else?” she fired back, but there was a waver in her voice. Jughead glared as he sat down across from her.

“You see, I would think that, too,” Jughead responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “but I searched for you online, and I couldn’t find anything on you.  Not one thing.”

“I like to keep my life private.  I don’t publish stuff about me online.”

“Yeah, but there’s something about everyone on the world wide web if you look hard enough,” Jughead explained, his voice accusingly sharp.  “Now I have two theories: one, you’re a very experienced hacker, and you’ve gone and wiped all information regarding you off the internet; or two, you’re hiding something, and you’re using a dead unpopular author’s name to keep your real identity a secret.  Personally, I’m choosing the latter, considering how well-read you are.”  (Y/N) stared at Jughead with sad, wide eyes.  “When were you going to tell me?”

“I wasn’t,” she whispered. Jughead clenched his jaw and shook his head.  

“Whatever,” he mumbled, standing up.  He began to walk away when (Y/N) shot up from her seat.

“I was born in Riverdale,” she called out to him.  Jughead stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around.

“What?”

“I was born in Riverdale,” she repeated slower.  Jughead neared the table and sat down across from (Y/N).

“So what?”

“So I-,” she started, “I can’t- I can’t just tell you everything.”  Jughead rolled his eyes and began to push his chair out when (Y/N) placed her hand on his, her eyes silently begging him to stay.  “If you care, you’ll trust me.”

“What makes you think I care?” Jughead demanded, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice how he didn’t move his hands out from under hers.

“Because you called?” she offered, causing Jughead to sit up a little straighter.  “You called me every night, Jug.”

“I was worried,” he muttered, looking away.  (Y/N) smiled, patted his hand, and stood up.

“Keep writing, Jughead. See you around.”  Spinning on her heel, (Y/N) grabbed her copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray and exited the diner.  Jughead’s eyes followed her figure out until the door closed behind her.  Then he pulled out his laptop and started to furiously type.

And so, a little light shined on the dark mystery of Riverdale’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) like the calm before the storm.  The writer becomes the reader, the reader becomes the read.  I found myself hooked on her just from a little information, like a drug addict craving his fix.  New girls can never hide in a small town like Riverdale, but God, I knew (Y/N), in all her enigmatic splendor, would lurk in the shadows of this town for as long as she possibly could.”

Part 3 here   Part 4 here

And it makes my heart flutter, the way that I can make you laugh like that. I always want to be that for you; the person who can make you toss your head back and chuckle like an innocent school boy.
—  Graying Hair and Glasses-Covered Eyes
And maybe I was never in love with you. I just craved the feeling. I wanted to be in love so badly. And more importantly I wanted someone who is in love with me too. I wanted someone who will be there for me when everybody else left. Someone who will make me always laugh and when he makes me cry once he will stay after our fight. He will stay. He will be there. For me.
I wanted someone like that.
But now I realized that I don’t need you for that. I have friends. I have people who care about me even when we don’t have a relationship. I don’t need you. I don’t need to be in love.
—  I just wanted to feel that feeling
One Night

One night during 6th year, Harry couldn’t sleep and he got out of bed just after midnight to do what had become his daily routine, which is stalk Draco Malfoy while telling himself over and over again that “the git is up to something.”

So Harry finds him lurking in a dark empty corridor by himself. He gets there and sees Draco’s figure from a distance, but Draco keeps disappearing quickly. Harry becomes frustrated and then looks into the Marauder’s map and sees that now he’s gotten really close to him but he can’t find him. He turns his head in all directions and sees nothing.

As he’s looking around in suspense, Harry out of nowhere gets slammed against the wall and pinned by the chest. The startling movement causes him to drop the map and his wand with it. He looks over to see that Draco has got his left arm pressed on his chest while pointing his wand at him in his right hand. Harry freezes as he’s caught by surprise, feeling powerless by Draco’s grip and his terrifying glare. Draco comes closer to Harry’s face in a threatening way, making Harry’s legs go weak.

What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing, Potter? Following me around in the middle of the night?” Draco snaps, not really showing how scared he is of why Harry is following him.

Harry is shaken up, but tries to collect himself. “J-just, you know…” he quickly retorts “trying to find out what you’re doing creeping around here in the middle of the night?”

Draco’s heart jumps now that Harry appears to be onto him, but he’s also furious and threatens to curse him.

“You haven’t the slightest idea of what I’m going through, Potter, who I’m dealing with. I don’t need the added pressure of dealing with you too.” His eyes are filled with anger.

“What do you mean ‘who you’re dealing with’? What’s going on, Malfoy?” Harry asks so curiously, narrowing his eyes at him.

“What’s going on is none of your bloody business.” Draco realizes that he rambled. “Stay out of this, Potter. I mean it.” His eyes are not only filled with anger, but something else Harry noticed… fear.

Harry can clearly see that beyond his flaming expression, Draco is actually scared of something, someone. He is scared out of his mind. Harry is struck by this realization.

“You’re in trouble, aren’t you?” Harry finds himself saying, almost with a concern in his voice.

But Draco refuses to admit anything. He’s not going to let Harry get to him. He covers by threatening him again.

“The only one in trouble here is you, Potter, since you always just love sticking that bloody nose of yours where it doesn’t belong. Is that why you’re really here? Is that what you really want? Because I can give you trouble, you know.” He presses his wand against Harry’s neck as if he’s about to curse him this time.

But Harry, to Draco’s confusion, doesn’t fight back.

“Go ahead,” Harry says almost so innocently, locking his eyes with him. “if that’s what you really want.”

Draco is taken by what Harry just said, how he looked at him, surrendering himself. Of course he can’t do it. Not only he doesn’t really have it in him, but he especially doesn’t have it in him to do it to Harry. He simply can’t for whatever reason he fails to understand. He may live to make his life difficult, but cursing him, possibly killing him, is something entirely different. And Harry somehow knew that. He just knew that Draco wouldn’t go that far with him despite how livid he seemed, which is why he doesn’t even attempt to fight back. It’s almost as if he let go of himself completely and put his fate entirely in Draco’s hands.

At that, Draco’s grip loosens. He seems to be lost in his own thoughts as he lowers his wand and just stares into Harry’s face, shaken and confused. There is a brief but a very intense silence that felt like a lifetime.

He suddenly let go of Harry completely, before turning and walking away. He starts running midway through, not wanting Harry to see that he’s probably getting emotional. Harry, however, immediately follows him, calling him and shouting his name.

It is at that moment where Harry is left completely perplexed, where for the first time he sees a very different side of Draco, and wonders if he started to maybe care for him? It’s where Draco is so desperate and so lonely and very much in need of someone, and that someone just might be his long-time sworn enemy.

Where things go from here, might just be the beginning of something both of them haven’t at all expected or thought was ever possible just moments earlier.

[ beat you up and beat you down ! ]

– one day they’ll say the throne was made for me.

[ a guzma fanmix with a rock-influenced sound ]

[ LISTEN ] | [ COVER ART BY ME ]

( content warnings: cursing and mentions of violence throughout, alcohol mentions in track 8 )

{1. come on, come on - jet | {2. little cream soda - the white stripes | {3. uncontainable - set it off | {4. breaking the model - new medicine | {5. throne - bring me the horizon | {6. underdog - you me at six | {7. the young & the hopeless - good charlotte | {8. forever stuck in our youth - set it off | {9. i need the world - down with webster | {10. breathe, desperately - from indian lakes

Many men tend to ask me, “Why do you care about how you look?”

I don’t mean to offend you males but I don’t think you guys understand how hard it is to be a woman in this society. If you do understand, then props to you, but I’m asking you all to just listen to what I have to say. You guys believe that we women tend to overcomplicate everything, whether it applies to relationships, friendships, or appearances. This is extremely true but only because we have to care about how we look and how we handle situations. It’s very easy to say “be unique” or “dress the way you want to dress” but you don’t tend to fully understand how damn impossible that is. We have to wear clothes that show the right amount of skin but not too much otherwise we’re known as sluts, whores, ugly, or even fat. It doesn’t matter if this is completely false, those labels will stick with us no matter how hard we try to dispose of them. We wear makeup because our natural faces are considered hideous, and no matter how many times you say we’re beautiful the way we are, we feel as if we aren’t. It seems like women are in constant competition with each other trying to prove who can fit in the best or who’s the prettiest, and while there are millions of women who are supportive, deep inside, we’re just a bit jealous. I can’t even explain how many women strive for bigger boobs and butts because we’re looked down upon for not being “thick” enough. We’ve fought so damn hard for equality and we’re still waiting for that day but it’s become so impossible because you guys keep craving more than we can ever give! Do you see children these days? Little girls lean towards makeup to try to be pretty! Yeah, it’s kind of fun to dress up, but that’s no longer the case. It honestly feels like women were only created to please men and the thought of that makes me sick to my stomach. Year by year, the standards keep piling on and on and on. It’s become so hard to keep up. Every year, more women are starving themselves, cutting themselves, killing themselves! I am aware that you men suffer through the same problems as we do and I am aware that this is coming to be a bit sexist of me, but I’m just so tired of having men ask me why I care about my appearance. The definition of “slut” and “whore” used to be a woman who slept with countless men. It then shifted to a woman who showed “too much” skin, but now, the definition has turned into a woman who has made a mistake. Not even a mistake, I can’t even describe the definition. Women who fall for somebody’s partner are considered sluts. Women who just like a simple photo of someone’s partner are considered sluts. Women who wear too much makeup (more so at a young age) are considered sluts. Women who are wearing clothes that show cleavage are considered as sluts. Now, this does not apply to all women. It applies to women who aren’t popular or women who don’t “fit in”. Maybe this doesn’t apply everywhere, but it definitely applies to where I live. This isn’t really your fault… I guess this is just how the world works. Anytime you men see a beautiful woman, that’s all you really see. You don’t see the pain it took to achieve that kind of beauty. The hours it took to perfect the makeup, the hours it took to put together the outfit. We really have come a long way and I’m so proud of the women who no longer care about the calories they consume or how they look, but the amount of women who are affected by society’s standards vastly outweigh those who aren’t. I fear to see what standards come next and what our future daughters and granddaughters will have to endure. I’m praying that it will get easier, but I don’t think it ever will. So if you have read this far, remember what I said before you ask a woman why they care about how they look. It’s not because we want to, but because we have to. There are so many of other things that I did not mention, far more painful things, but this seems to be the most common one.

Like I said, this has come to be a bit sexist of me. I know that some men go through these hardships too. Maybe you guys have it just as bad. We all hide our fears of society and its standards. I fail to understand why we have created these complications for another. Aren’t you tired of living this way?

—  To all the men out there who ask us women, “Why do you care about how you look?”

Well I’m just having a moment where I realise how much I love this whole damn fandom. So much talent in this place it blows my mind! All of you, I fucking love the bones of all of you ❤