#make my inner barbie girl’s dreams come true

[pandoa]

i want to braid general lilia’s hair into pigtails and put cute little ribbons and sparkles in it

[farfromstrange]

Hello everyone,

Putting a read more for those who are not interested and just want to stop scrolling. This is a life update from me to you.

But I’d be happy if you read it because you’ve been a part of my life and this journey into becoming an adult in my early twenties with me and I just want you to know what’s been going on. Don’t worry, it’s not a goodbye.

I’m so sorry for being MIA. Life’s been a mess. But I got the apartment I took a look at last week and I’m about to sign the lease, which means I’m going to move out of my childhood home in the next six weeks. It’s three hours away in a different State, and I’m starting college in October too, so now I have to figure out how to actually be an adult. I need to organize the move, get all the paperwork done and find a job while also figuring out how college is gonna work. I’m a bit stressed and slightly emotional, but I’m hanging in there.

I haven’t had the time to properly write, but I have some drafts I finished before the stress started and I will take some time to reread and maybe post before I disappear from view completely.

I saw how active you all were, interacting with my posts and stories even though I was gone for almost two weeks there and didn’t put anything new out, so thank you all for that. It makes me feel so appreciated, you have no idea. And those who checked up on me, I love you more than I can express.

I just came home from watching Barbie and decided to take some time to go through Tumblr now because I’m a writer Barbie and I can do anything I set my mind to. I’m powerful. I feel like what’s about to come for me is going to change everything, but in a good way, and I can’t wait to finally set a foot out into the real world and just be me. Live life by my own rules, you know. It’s what I’ve wanted for so long. And I can finally do what I want and study what I want. I can do what I’m good at. And I’ll find a way to give writing a bigger role in my life as soon as I’ve moved out because I’ve also dreamed of this day for a long time now, even though it’s still a little scary, but as Taylor Swift once said “You’re on your own, kid. You can face this.” And I strongly believe I can, even while doubting myself sometimes.

Honestly, Barbie was so inspiring to me, someone who’s been told I can’t live my dreams because they’re stupid dreams and I have to be like everyone else, make money without being happy, please my family and everyone around me, and fit into the shoe box, which isn’t true.

This movie healed my inner child and it gave me a good smack over the head. I’m going to struggle before fully realizing that my independent Barbie girl era starts now, but I think I’m ready and I think I can do it well. I hope so. And I can live my dreams. I don’t have to be what everyone else wants me to be. Playing it safe is so boring.

Thank you all!

I love you 🩷

(Also, I’ve packed a few boxes already, and three of them are just books and Funkos. That’s so funny to me. But it’s also kind of hard to say goodbye to this room, you know?)

Next on the list is my wall, and it’s gonna be painful to take it all off and transport it without destroying any of the pictures.

(Thank you to everyone who gave me ideas for prints I can hang in my new apartment, I’ve found a few already.)

Now this is all. Thank you! Sending hugs and kisses your way. I’m gonna try to post something (probably Mikey content because that’s what I’ve got stashed away) tonight or tomorrow, and then I’m gonna get back into writing as soon as I’ve got my life organized.

Yours,

Lizzi 🩷

[captionwhiz]

200+ Captions That Add Magic to Your Barbie Movie Moments

Barbie movies have been sparking joy and igniting creativity for generations, inspiring countless fans with their colorful worlds, unforgettable characters, and heartwarming messages.

Whether you’re reminiscing about your favorite Barbie movie moment, sharing a creative outfit inspired by a scene, or just celebrating the magic that Barbie movies bring to life, your Instagram posts deserve captions that reflect that same sense of wonder and imagination.

With these Barbie movie captions, you can capture the essence of these beloved films, making your posts as magical and inspiring as the stories they tell.

Creative Barbie Movie Captions

“Living in a Barbie movie, where anything is possible. ✨”

“Imagination is the key to unlocking a world of magic. 🌟”

“Channeling my inner Barbie, one dream at a time. 💖”

“Just a girl in a Barbie world, making dreams come true. 🌸”

“In a world of possibilities, be your own kind of Barbie. 🌈”

“Spark joy and let your creativity shine, just like Barbie. 🎨”

“Every day is a new adventure in the world of Barbie. 🌍”

“Creating my own Barbie movie, one scene at a time. 🎬”

“Dancing through life with a little bit of Barbie magic. 💃”

“Dream big, sparkle more, and shine bright like Barbie. ✨”

“In a Barbie movie, anything can happen if you just believe. 💫”

“Bringing a little Barbie magic to my everyday life. 🪄”

“Life’s better with a touch of Barbie creativity. 🎀”

“Finding inspiration in every Barbie movie moment. 🌟”

“Turning my dreams into reality, one Barbie movie at a time. 🎥”

Read: 200+ Barbie Movie Captions For Instagram That Spark Joy and Creativity

[neyneonala]

✩ ₊˚ ⊹ . ♡ ‘ Dressed in pink, smelling like vanilla sugar cookies is the perʄect way to show a big heart .. ’

ㅤ* Girls who love baby pink and hello kitty will definitely love the smell of fresh strawberries and sweet warm sugar cookies. *

ㅤㅤO’ !¡ ⟡ colored nails with glitter sparkles & sweet lipgloss make you feel like a beautiful queen. Cute kittens and girly playlists indulge all day. Romanticize life like you are a Barbie in Barbie world, Wear a pink dress and elegant high heels. Showing your beauty with subtle make-up, And let everyone be mesmerized by your graceful charm.

I. My soul is pink and sugary sweet.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤfacebook.com/100071749052297

ㅤ#🧷 !¡ .. Living with pink is like living in a world full of joy, happiness, and positivity. It's a color that exudes femininity, elegance, and grace, and it has the power to transform any space into a vibrant and lively sanctuary. Whether it's a soft pastel shade or a bold fuchsia hue, pink has the ability to make us feel alive and invigorated. It's a color that can be both calming and energizing, depending on the shade and how it's used.

ㅤShe is a beautiful girl with a pretty soul, and her radiance shines through in everything she does. Her kind heart and gentle spirit are reflected in the way she treats others, always with compassion and empathy. Her inner beauty is just as stunning as her outer appearance, and it's no wonder why she captures the hearts of everyone she meets. She has a way of making people feel seen and valued, and her smile can light up any room. Her beauty is not just skin deep, but it comes from the depths of her soul, where her grace and elegance reside. She is a true gem, a rare find in a world that can sometimes be harsh and unforgiving. But she stands tall, confident in who she is, and her beauty shines through like a beacon of hope and love.

II. A dream girl living in Barbie world.

Barbie Girl.

ㅤㅤ“ 𓂃 ⊹ .. Step into a world of pure magic and enchantment, where dreams come to life and anything is possible. Meet Barbie, the ultimate symbol of beauty, grace, and femininity. In her pink palace, surrounded by glittering jewels and sparkling treasures, she reigns supreme as the queen of fashion and style. With her flowing golden locks, flawless complexion, and impeccable sense of fashion, Barbie embodies everything that is feminine and glamorous. But she is so much more than just a pretty face - she is a symbol of empowerment and inspiration for girls everywhere. From designing her own clothing line to jet-setting to exotic destinations, Barbie shows us that anything is possible if we believe in ourselves and follow our dreams with passion and purpose. ”

III. My home, people who can make me smile anytime.

“ My Taste in Man. ”

꒦꒷⭒All about Sunghoon, Felix & Heeseung

ㅤㅤ#♡ ; A house is not only in the form of a building, a home for me is where I feel the feeling of comfort, safety and warmth that I crave. When I'm happy just by seeing her laugh out loud. when i come back home after a tiring day, tired and exhausted, just seeing him sweet smile makes everything better. Him presence fills my heart with an inexplicable sense of calm and contentment, reminding me that this is where I belong. Thankyou to Lee Felix & Enhypen, especially Park Sunghoon, for making my life colorful *!!* ☆

Lengkara Neonala Arshaloka.

[kissme-hs]

Cute Chris evans fluff 💓

Hey my loves. I apologise for not writing in a while, my job and personal life haven’t been so great. But I will try to update as much as possible. Requests are open. Hope you all enjoy it :,)

Reblog+ liked if you enjoyed please!

Pairing: Chris Evans x fem! Reader

Warnings: none.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅

Life isn’t easy. It never was. There are days where everything comes crashing down, there are days when you’re at your lowest, there are days when you’re in pain—so much pain that you decide to keep it yourself because no one would understand.

But the those days, those crashing down minutes, that pain eases when you’ve someone to share it with. A person who listens to all your doubts you’ve about yourself and never fails to remind you how those doubts are nothing but a slip of mind from your perfect self. A person who promises to stay by your side through thick and thin and they do indeed stand on the grounds of their words they uttered in complete sense.

And the sad truth is, not everyone finds their ‘someone’. Not everyone is blessed enough to find their person, though they do but not so easily. But you however, lied somewhere in between. Never having a luck in finding that person who wouldn’t leave you wo thing months when they come to realisation that you’re not perfect, when they realise that you’ve flaws and you’re not one of the plastic barbies like they imagines. Everyone left, eventually.

Except Chris.

That day when you were weeping in his arms after having a not so self warming moment, when you were doubting his decisions for choosing a normal girl over those glorious women. To say, that you, for the first time let those hurtful comment get through that tough skin you built over the years, he held you. He held you so tight and didn’t let go. Not even once.

Your tears were damping his navy blue shirt he wore, he cradled your crumbling body in his arms joining you on the floor. His cheek pressed on top of your head as you clutched the soft cotton material of his clothing in pain. Those words thrown at you pierced through your skin and he saw it. But in that moment of you crying, at your lowest and not the prettiest with ugly tears and broken heart, lost self esteem—he stayed by your side.

That moment of pain was your golden memory because that’s the moment when you realised how this one was different. Any other would’ve left not wanting to deal with a broken state person, in this date everyone is busy fixing themselves that they all want someone who doesn’t require touch ups. And no one realises, that we all are a little broken at the end of the day.

And for Chris finding you was his biggest victory. He’s one of those mentioned earlier who can’t find Love easily, given up on hope to find love was the state he was in when he found you. His heart accepted the fate of him might being alone for the rest of his life seeing his friends getting married and having kids already.

It felt as if god answered all his prayers when he found you. You were the person he missed all this time not knowing who it really was. Not everyone understood him, to the world he might be a handsome guy with no flaws whose heart was made of pure gold but inside those four walls of his house where he sits idle left to wander alone with his insecurities made him who he really was.

But the day when you decided to stay overnight within a heartbeat to take care of him all night long because of the burning fever that took over his body, putting cold cloth over his forehead to make the sickness go away—not caring how it might make you lose your job because of the day off, was the day he felt his heart whisper, ‘she’s the one buddy, we found her’.

He felt like crying, how could someone care for him so dearly? How could someone be with him aware of the imperfections he possessed? How could someone ever love him so much to the point where he was for the first time felt as if all his inner darkness doesn’t exists anymore. How could someone?

But the answers to those questions nestled within the questions itself. It simply, she loved him just like he loved her.

So when one Friday evening when he walks into the kitchen, the aroma of freshly made lasagna filling the air made his mouth water and his heart swell with the view of his love stirring the soup with a soft humming coming through her lips, he couldn’t t help but wrap his arms around your body. Frank Sinatra faintly playing on the record player he got from the vintage store.

His lips quickly coming in contact with the skin of your supple neck making you giggle as you put the wooden spatula on the tray to turn around to face him.

“Well hello there mister” you smiled wrapping your arms around his neck. His own lips turning up to give the most adorning smile you’ve ever seen, his eyes searched yours. Though he stayed quite enjoying the moment, he said a lot.

“Can I have this dance my love?”

“But honey the food-“ you couldn’t even finish your senetence when his arms snuck behind your from your side to turn off the stove and pull you to the middle of the kitchen.

He took your hand in his and placed the other on his shoulder making you giggle. You shook your head when he placed a soft delicate kiss on your nose making you scrunch before wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close, so close that if you look up at him you’re lips would touch his in a ever so light kiss. His chest pressed against yours as he swayed your bodies to the soft beat of the music resting his cheek on your head just like he did that night.

Closing your eyes you swayed along, where you rested your head against his chest. And you swore it felt as if you two were the only ones on this earth, it felt so heavenly. With his skin against your and your heartbeat synchronised nothing else mattered. He had his whole world in his arms and you were held by your world.

“I love you so much.” Chris whispered pulling away a little making you look up at him. His eyes sparkled with your sight staring at him with those eyes he lived so much, and a face of an angel.

His heart skipped a beat just by thinking how much he loved you and you loved him back just the same way, unconditionally.

“I love you too” you whispered before he leaned in and pressed his lips to your in a soft kiss, the kiss wasn’t rushed but slow. It was like as if you both were trying to make love through that kiss.

But it didn’t last forever as you wished, he pulled away after a minute or so making you whine slightly. His eyes stared into yours like if he was trying to find an answer of a question he was yet to ask. He brought your intertwined hands to his lips to peck the skin of your hand.

“Marry me?”

“Huh?”

“Marry me baby, I just want to you to be my forever, I want to grow old with you, have babies with you, die with you. I never thought I’d find someone who’ll love me more than I love myself and I swear everyday I wake up as the happiest man alive all because you’re in my life.” He whispered and you could see his eyes tearing up along yours. Though you’ve been together over an year and talked about marriage, this was completely out of the blue and a dream come true.

You stared at him with his tear dripping down your eyes as he slowly pulled away to reveal the most gorgeous ring you’ve ever seen and slowly gets on one knees, before he could even get comeplety down on his knee you pulled him up by cupping his cheeks and pressing your lips to his.

You could feel his warm tears falling on your cheeks mixing with yours and then making their way on your lips as one.

“Yes” you whispered against his lips and he waited no second in sliping that elegant on your finger before pulling in again for another kiss, first kiss as engaged lovers.

“I love you so goddamn much.”

“I love you more Chris”

He found his forever and so did you.

[collectionofuselessinformation]

The Disney Princesses- Ranked

I wrote a college research essay and project on this, so I know a teeny bit 

ALSO DISCLAIMER I LOVE THEM ALL 

10. Aurora

Sleeping Beauty 1959

Aurora, while iconic, is probably the most passive out of all the Disney Princesses. She merely reacts to things happening to her, and bases her future on a literal dream. Furthermore, she only has eighteen minutes of screen time, meaning that she’s only in 24 percent of her film. However, Rebecca-Anne C. Do Rozario in her essay,  “The Princess and the Magic Kingdom: Beyond Nostalgia, the Function of the Disney Princesses,” makes very interesting points about Sleeping Beauty itself. Coming out right at the beginning of the sixties, it’s one of the first mainstream films to feature teenage rebellion, and Prince Phillip and Aurora are showcases of the American teenager. She compares Prince Phillip to James Dean, while he himself is a very strong character that rebels against his father and societal norms. She also compares Aurora to the brand new Barbie of the fifties, noting on their similar appearances. She calls Aurora a prototype baby boomer- which I thought was very interesting. 

10. Ariel 

The Little Mermaid 1989 

TO BE REAL, their all great, so sorry for putting some of these women low on the list. But getting down to business (to defeat the huns), Ariel is a very problematic character and frankly, a bad role model. I love The Little Mermaid, and Ariel was my favorite for a long time (because she’s a mermaid and that is bad ass), but her behavior is very unsettling. She is willing to give up everything she has every known to be with a man she has only met once, and completely changes herself for him. While the movie is great, Ariel might even be more submissive than the earlier princesses, because she goes through such great lengths to change herself for a dude. HOWEVER, I did see a post somewhere once that said that not only was she chasing Eric, but also her dream to see land, which is legitimate and makes her better.

9. Cinderella 

Cinderella 1950 

There’s not much to write home about Cinderella. She’s iconic and great, but doesn’t do that much. Again, another passive character. I love her anyway though. 

8. Jasmine

Alladin 1992

First of all let me say that I love Jasmine, but she’s got some issues. I might get some backlash for putting Jasmine so low on the list, but hear me out. I can’t figure out why she’s even a crowned princess, as one of the requirements according to Illinois State University is to be the main character, but she is not the main character in Aladdin... Aladdin is. That being said, she is a very strong female character that rebels against societal norms, those being to get married. While she is very much a damsel in distress on multiple occasions, however, her sassy attitude is quite iconic. She’s very much a plot device to push Alladin through his hero’s journey.

7. Snow White 

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs 1937

Snow White is the girl that started it all. She’s a lot like Aurora, in that she just sort of reacts to things happening to her, both movies also have women that fall asleep and are woken by true love’s kiss. Do Rozario has some interesting things to say about Snow White too. She says that Snow White is representative of an old Hollywood starlet, looking like a silent movie star crossed with a flapper. Furthermore, this movie came out during the Great Depression, and seeing a princess pulled from poverty was a hopeful story for the American public during the time. Snow White did so much for Disney and the film industry, she’s truly iconic. 

6. Tiana 

The Princess and the Frog 2009 

This is where it gets tricky, because from here on out, all the Disney Princesses are fantastic women. Tiana herself is the most realistic princesses, with big dreams and the actually will power to make it happen. She is the fist black princess, an enormous milestone, and is the first princess to not only dream big, but do the grunt work to make it happen. 

5. Belle 

Beauty and the Beast 1991

Belle is great. I don’t like her too much though because in fourth grade I was in a production of Beauty and the Beast Jr. and I was a plate and I got SO SICK of the music. Be Our Guest, a great song, is ruined for this nine year old plate. Putting that aside, Belle is an extremely intelligent woman. She’s not a warrior, which is ok!! A woman doesn’t have to kick ass to be a bad ass, and Belle is full of love and acceptance. She is capable of looking past an outer exterior into an inner self, something not many people are capable of, and is maybe the most compassionate princess, (even if she’s a little stuck up in Provincial Life). 

4. Rapunzel

Tangled 2010

Rapunzel is awesome, and is a low key warrior. She, like all the other princesses, is a dreamer. Rapunzel, like Tiana, has the willpower to make her dreams happen. She is sweet and charming while still having the capability to kick ass and take names, and is such a fun character to watch on screen. 

3. Mulan 

Mulan 1998

Ok this is just me being a nitpick bitch, but Mulan bothers me just a teeny bit BECAUSE SHES NOT ROYALTY. She’s Savior of China and she marries a general, but is not royalty. According to Illinois State University, to be a Disney Princess, one must be royal, marry a royal, or commit a heroic action (even though that last thing literally only exists so Mulan can be a princess). But thats just me being a perfectionist.  ANYWAY, putting that aside, Mulan is great. Like I said, she is Savior of China, which is a huge deal. She’s a straight up bad ass and warrior, and she HARDCORE rebels against societal norms. She’s just straight up awesome. 

2. Pocahontas 

Pocahontas 1995 

Ya’ll are sleeping on Pocahontas. She’s incredible. Pocahontas is a strong and confident woman, who stays true to herself and her people while single handedly stopping a massacre-like war from happening. She also saves John Smith, who is SUCH a damsel in distress, which is awesome. She cares about the environment, all her songs are jams, and the movie is so beautifully animated. Pocahontas is just wonderful.

1. Merida 

Brave 2012

Again, ya’ll are sleeping on Merida. She’s a straight up warrior, and doesn’t give  a shit about the societal expectations placed on her. She defies the place of the ancient Scottish woman, and is a flawed character. She’s selfish and hard headed, and she has to save her mother from a mess she herself created. She has the most dramatic character development, and grows tremendously throughout the film. The movie also does not focus on a romantic relationship, but rather one between a mother and daughter. Furthermore, Merida is the only Disney Princess without a love interest, and ends the movie independently. 

BTW: these are the OFFICIALLY CROWNED PRINCESSES. Moana, Elsa, and Anna, are NOT Disney Princesses. 

[inloveandwords]

This post was inspired by Ally’s series (which was inspired by Lia at Lost in a Story).

It works like this:

Go to your goodreads to-read shelf.

Order on ascending date added.

Take the first 5 (or 10 (or even more!) if you’re feeling adventurous) books

Read the synopsis of the books

Decide: keep it or should it go?

  You guys, the Francesca Lia-Block obsession when I joined Goodreads was REAL! Every. Single. Book. is by her this time around!

  Here are the stats

Starting Total TBR Count: 1760

Previous Total TBR Count: 1772

Total Marked TBR ASAP: 132

Current Total TBR Count: 1762

      Ecstasia by Francesca Lia-Block

Siblings Calliope and Rafe, along with Dionisio and Paul, are Ecstasia—the most popular band in Elysia, a city of jewels and feathers, of magic and music, where the only crime is growing old. Then Calliope’s visions take her to Under, where the Old Ones go to die, and where her parents had vanished long ago. Rafe joins her there, in search of the Doctor, who can bring back the dead to ease their loved ones’ broken hearts. And that is when rapture turns to nightmare.

Keep or Ditch? Ditch

    Primavera by Francesca Lia-Block

From the very moment she was born, Primavera’s songs made water flow and flowers blossom. She brought new life to the desert where her family lives. But even in Paradise there are dreams that cannot be fulfilled. Primavera is in love with a man who can never be hers–so when a handsome stranger offers her the gift of a horse-headed motorcycle, Primavera leaves home in search of the magical city of Elysia. But in Elysia, Primavera discovers that she has left behind everything she truly needs, everyone she truly cares about–and, if the city has its way, she will never find her way back home.

Keep or Ditch? Ditch

  Nymph by Francesca Lia-Block

An interconnected series of stories, NYMPH is a special journey through the lives and loves of characters like Plum, a Crayon-haired girl who has a gift: if she makes love with a person, that person will then meet their true love, or Tom, a burned out surfer whose luck changes when he is rescued by a mysterious, wheelchair-bound woman, or Sylvie, a chronically depressed poet who finds beauty in unexpected places. Block’s erotic explorations of these smoky, kaleidoscopic fables are anything but conventional; these are stories of love, loss, and life, about the healing power of sex and bonding.

Keep or Ditch? Ditch

  Quakeland by Francesca Lia-Block

After enduring from afar a seemingly endless series of outside worldwide disasters–including 9/11 and the Asian tsunami–while living in earthquake-prone Los Angeles, a bereft Katrina experiences deep inner longings for some sense of permanence, meaning, and intimacy. A pre-school teacher contemplating the unsettling challenges of her mid-life, she finds solace in the company of her dear friend, Grace, and conflict in the arms of Jasper, a narcissistic yoga instructor.

In this intertwining series of emotionally charged stories, wistful characters weave together a dance of joy and sorrow, gain and loss, dissonance and harmony.

Keep or Ditch? Ditch

  Pretty Dead by Francesca Lia-Block

People pity me, but mostly they feel envy. I have all the luxury and freedom a girl my age could want.

Something is happening to Charlotte Emerson. Like the fires that are ravaging the hills of Los Angeles, it consumes her from the inside out. But whether it is her eternal loneliness, the memory of her brother, the return of her first love, or the brooding, magnetic Jared—she cannot say. What if it’s something more . . .

Something to do with the sudden tear in her perfect nails. The heat she feels when she’s with Jared. The blood rushing once again to her cheeks and throughout her veins.

For Charlotte is a vampire, witness to almost a century’s worth of death and destruction. But not since she was a human girl has mortality touched her.

In what way will you be transformed?

Until now.

Keep or Ditch? Ditch

    Blood Roses by Francesca Lia-Block

What shall we do, all of us?

All of us passionate girls who fear crushing the boys we love with our mouths like caverns of teeth, our mushrooming brains, our watermelon hearts?

Keep or Ditch? Ditch

    Topmodel by Francesca Lia-Block

Once upon a time, in the bubble-gum-snapping, glitter polish-wearing, lip-gloss-applying San Fernando Valley, a gentle girl named Barbie met a feisty fairy named Mab: “Maybe Mab was real. Maybe there really are girls the size of pinkies with hair the color of the darkest red oleander blossoms and skin like the greenish-white underbellies of calla lilies…. But it doesn’t matter if Mab is real or imagined, Barbie thought, as long as I can see her.” Mab, with her crabby commentary and no-holds-barred opinions, gives Barbie the strength she needs to face the horrors casting a shadow over her life in sunny, shimmering California. How else could Barbie survive her over-perfumed, over-tanned, overbearing stage mother, dragging her daughter to modeling agencies in the gold-plated hope of reliving her younger days as a beauty queen? Or the “cadaver-pale skin” and “fleshy mouth” of Hamilton Waverly, the “crocodile pedophile” photographer who makes Barbie feel “like the doll she had been named for, without even a hole where her mouth was supposed to be”? Mab glimmers and gabs by Barbie’s side throughout her teen years as she becomes a successful fashion model, falls in love, and endures all the troubles that come along for the ride–in addition to facing the black secret of her past.

Keep or Ditch? Ditch

  Ruby by Francesca Lia-Block

After growing up in an abusive family, Ruby escapes to Los Angeles and learns of her soulmate — Orion — a British actor. She travels to England, where she works at a potions and herbs shop, and through a series of coincidental circumstances, ends up nursing Orion back to health without confessing that she has been on a quest to find him all along. But just when she thinks her dream is becoming a reality, Ruby is stopped in her tracks by the violent demons of her past. Only by facing the darkness together can she and Orion finally fulfill their destiny.

Keep or Ditch? Ditch

  Psyche in a Dress by Francesca Lia-Block

But this is what I could not give up: I could not give up myself.

Psyche has known Love–scented with jasmine and tasting of fresh oranges. Yet he is fleeting and fragile, lost to her too quickly. Punished by self-doubt, Psyche yearns to be transformed, like the beautiful and brutal figures in the myths her lover once spoke of. Attempting to uncover beauty in the darkness, she is challenged, tested, and changed by the gods and demons who tempt her. Her faith must be found again, for if she is to love, she must never look back.

Keep or Ditch? Ditch

    The Frenzy by Francesca Lia-Block

Liv has a secret.

Something happened to her when she was thirteen. Something that changed everything. Liv knows she doesn’t belong anymore—not in her own skin, not in her family . . . not anywhere. The only time she truly feels like herself is when she’s with her boyfriend, Corey, and in the woods that surround her town.

But in the woods, a mysterious woman watches Liv. In the woods, a pack of wild boys lurks. In the woods, Liv learns about the curse that will haunt her forever. The curse that caused the frenzy four years ago. And that may cause it again, all too soon.

While Corey and Liv’s love binds them together, Liv’s dark secret threatens to tear them apart as she struggles to understand who—or what—she really is. And by the light of the full moon, the most dangerous secrets bare their claws. . .

Keep or Ditch? Ditch

Bye-Bye Books: Decluttering my TBR #2 This post was inspired by Ally’s series (which was inspired by Lia at Lost in a Story…

[justbeingsociable]

There’s so many colors in the rainbow, and yet society tries to limit each color to a specific gender, age, etc. As a baby girl, you’re given light pink, if you’re a boy baby- blue. The princess wears pink, and boys should like blue or green. Brides wear white, and we wear black while in mourning. Red roses are for love, and baby puke green was the color of the 70’s. Just where does the idea of pink and blue come from? Why do we generalize, and try to make everyone conform to this color coding? When I was young, I would say that my favorite color was red. The truth was it was pink, but I was already beat up enough... I didn’t want to add to my bruises. So I told them it was red, and people seemed to allow that. Then I thought well what’s the next color on the wheel that I could say is my favorite and not be too girly? Purple perhaps. But it wasn’t any of those… It is hot pink! The color of Barbie, the color of Princess Gwenevere and the Jewel Riders, the color of my inner unicorn! And speaking of #Unicorns, let’s talk a little bit about even animal stereotypes. Mermaids and unicorns are for girls. And boys should be worthy of something more masculine and fearsome. Is the female the fairer sex? I know a couple of pretty tough actin’ girls who might take on and win in a match between a guy. A friend has surmised why I associate gay relationships and try to ape them into hetero normative situations with a masculine and feminine character, is because of internalized homophobia. Am I? I don’t think I am. But then again as many of us do, our opinions and beliefs have been molded in us since day one by our surroundings. So whoever told me I couldn’t like the color pink? No one came out and said it. But society certainly never produced any boy toys that were pink. Is that why I was gravitated towards girls toys? Dolls, pretend house, Lisa Frank supplies, and Disney Princesses, just to name a few. Or was it me being rebellious? Was I rebelling and acting out by choosing to like those things? And speaking of choosing, let’s make it very clear that in my opinion being gay is not a choice – it’s who you are! As Lady Gaga says, “baby you were born this way.” And yet, again in my own hetero normative way of thinking, we’ll just agree to disagree that perhaps that’s what it is. I found myself attracted to men who chose traditionally boy colors as favorite colors. I need someone who likes orange and blue, and then green, and then cerulean blue, and then green again. Blue and green, blue and green. Oh but we can throw in a couple of other colors in there; those were just the guys that I connected with the most. But there was also coral and purple, more blues and reds. No one likes hot pink, like me. But that was OK! Was I purposefully seeking out masculine acting men? Or was it my color test? Actually, I did ask everyone in initial conversations while conversing on dating apps what their favorite color was; for use in future conversations and gift planning. Did I use this as a screening method?! That’s pretty ridiculous. And again, let’s attribute this to my trying to ape a heterosexual relationship. Is it OK to have preferences like that? Should I be open to all options, and not limiting my choices to just masculine men. But I’ve been with two men who are much more effeminate, and that seems to drive me crazy! As I told a friend recently, nothing is worse than meeting a guy that looks totally masculine and then when they open their mouth – the entire Coach handbag collection falls out! But back to colors, my green relationship was the very first relationship where I felt we matched in all aspects... even colors. His love for green just enhanced my love of hot pink! Although he is quite ridiculous, as is his green obsession – kitchenware, household items, food, clothing, hair if he could. It’s all green! I don’t think I would be happy in an all pink house. I’ll leave the dream home to Barbie! But when it comes to showing my love for hot pink, I’m not afraid to wear it on clothing, and yet I’m still hesitant to have it on say a car, or household items. Perhaps the household aesthetic is not so much coming from a homophobic standpoint, but that I love classic style like those influenced by Victorian, the early 1900s through the 1950s, skip over the 1960s through beginning part of the 80s, the 90s of course, and I hate modern. And then when I met my recent long-term relationship, when he said his favorite color was green I immediately began to compare him to Big, as we called him in another post referencing the Sex and the City character. Only Big could like green! That’s his color. I know that’s not true, but that’s what my heart was screaming out. And even though he liked green it didn’t seem and feel the same as with Big. His new green didn’t match with my hot pink. There wasn’t any difference in the greens… It was a difference in the relationship. So whatever your favorite color, or colors, as mine are pink and black, paint with the colors of the rainbow! And be fabulous!

[the-expert-zone]

27 Amazing KETO Gifts for Healthy Moms 2020

If you’re looking for just the right thing to give your health conscious keto mom, friend or family member we’ve selected 27 fabulous gift ideas to choose from. You’ll even find a unique present for the mom who has everything!

       Show your loved ones following a ketogenic diet some love with these amazing presents that celebrate the low-carb lifestyle!

We’ve broken the items down into several different keto gift categories to make browsing super easy:

Fun and novelty

Food gifts

Subscription gifts

Recipe books

Tools and gadgets

FUN NOVELTY KETO GIFTS $10-25

Low-carb/keto t-shirts

For the low-carbing moms with a sense of humor. These quirky t-shirts add a bit of fun to gifting as well as being a useful wardrobe item. Mom’s will love the t-shirt for everyday, busy weekends and the tank top for the gym.

I run on ketones and coffee t-shirt

I’m a Keto girl in a Barbie world tank top

Saving my carbs for wine tank top

  For more t-shirt styles, click here.

Low-Carb Novelty Mugs

You can’t go wrong giving mom a quirky coffee mug for sipping on her bulletproof coffee or dairy-free bulletproof coffee. Get bonus points for actually making your mom a coffee and a cute little keto mug cake to go with it.

Keto Queen Mug

Keto AF Mug

“Saving my Carbs for Wine” White Ceramic Coffee Mug

  LOW-CARB KETO FOOD GIFTS $15-$40

Keto Manna Ketogenic Chocolate Fudge

Keto Manna Ketogenic Chocolate Fudge

  Busy moms on the go will love this Ketogenic Chocolate Fudge because it is keto-optimized with MCTs and each bar has only 2g of net carbs. These are great to keep in your handbag for when you are out and about without access to quality low-carb foods. Keto Manna is also 100% plant-based so suitable for vegans.

Check out Ketomanna fudge

  LILY’S Chocolate – Super Variety Pack

Lily’s Chocolate Variety 6 Pack | Stevia Sweetened, No Added Sugar, Low- Carb, Keto Friendly | 6 Flavors, 1 Bar each | Sampler, Gift Set

Lily’s chocolate is a dream come true for low-carbers. It’s gluten-free, sugar-free, sweetened with stevia and low in carbs. They use non-GMO ingredients and fair trade cocoa. It’s a true gourmet, high quality product for low-carb moms who appreciate the finer things in life!

The Super Variety Pack includes : Creamy Milk, Almond, Coconut, Salted Almond Milk, Original, Crispy Rice.

Buy LILY’S Chocolate here

  Perfect Keto Exogenous Ketones in Chocolate

Exogenous Ketones

Moms that are serious about staying in ketosis will appreciate these quality exogenous ketones from Perfect Keto, especially around the festive, holiday season.

This product helps get you back into ketosis quickly after a little too much partying and also avoiding any keto flu side effects when first starting out. 

It also comes in Peach, Coffee, Vanilla, Salted Caramel and Unflavored.

Take advantage of Appetite For Energy’s special 15% off discount code for any Perfect Keto product. Use the code INSTAKETO15

Check out Perfect Keto here.

  Kimera Koffee – Nootropic Infused Ground Coffee

Kimera Koffee – Nootropic Infused Ground Coffee

If mom is into coffee and biohacking (a fancy work for improving energy and brain power), she’ll love Kimera Koffee. It’s a nootropic infused ground coffee which I’ve been a fan of for the last few years.

The flavor is smooth and delicious and it contains nootropics (brain enhancers) which provide optimized focus and boost your workouts with improved energy. It’s good stuff and health focused moms will love how it enhances their mental energy.

Learn more about Kimera Koffee

  Primal Kitchen – Mayo Combo Pack (Original and Chipotle Lime)

Primal Kitchen – Mayo Combo Pack

Mom’s that are health conscious and love wholefood, natural products will go crazy for this mayonnaise. These mayos are a beautiful gift for any food lover because of their high quality. I use these mayos by Primal Kitchen regularly to add flavor to meats and veggies when they need a little boost. The chipotle flavor is especially good.

It’s the first ever avocado oil-based mayo, made with cage-free organic eggs and vinegar. It is free of sugar, gluten, dairy, soy and canola-oil, and non-GMO Project Verified. This is good stuff and a lovely gift for anyone whether they follow a low-carb or ketogenic diet or not!

Pick up Primal Kitchen Mayo Combo Pack here

  Omega PowerCreamer Holiday 2-Pack

  Omega Power Creamer – Holiday Pack – Pumpkin Spice & Peppermint Mocha

Keto friendly coffee creamers are not easy to come by and Omega Power creamer is my favorite. Their creamer is made with grass-fed ghee, organic coconut oil, and MCT oil so you can make keto-coffee easily on the go.

Or just use it at home for a fast energy hit!

It’s also dairy-free, sugar-free and shelf-stable (doesn’t need refrigeration) and will give mum the fats she needs to maintain ketosis while enjoying a delicious coffee.

The holiday 2 pack comes with Pumpkin Spice & Peppermint Mocha but the other flavors are also ah-mazing:

Original blend

Vanilla

Cinnamon

Natural Cacao

Add to any coffee or tea drink either with a regular blender or an Aerolatte (see below) or just stirred in.

Check out Omega Power Creamers here.

  LOW-CARB GIFTS THAT KEEP ON GIVING $35-$100

KetoKrate Keto Snacks Subscription

Keto Krate Snack Box Subscription

KetoKrate delivers a box of the best keto, low-carb, gluten-free snacks sourced from around the world to your doorstep every month.

A subscription to Ketokrate would make a fantastic gift for the mom who loves to snack and enjoys discovering new low-carb foods.

Keto Krate snacks are low-carb (5g of net carbs per serving or less), gluten-free and maltitol-free.

There is no minimum time period or contracts.

Available in the U.S. and Canada only

Check out Keto Krate snack boxes here.

    The Green Chef – organic keto meal kit delivery service

Choose the keto option from The Green Chef and enjoy low-carb meals delivered to your door with easy, step-by-step instructions and pre-measured ingredients.

Mom will love you forever with this gift as these meal kits mean that you don’t have to think about what to have for dinner. These meal plan options are popular with people who like to cook homemade, healthy meals but want to save time both in the kitchen and in the planning stages.

Most meals cook in around 30-minutes – LOVE THAT! They also offer a paleo meal plan option.

The plans are flexible so you cancel at any time and they deliver to most places in the U.S.

 Find out more at The Green Chef

  TOP KETO & LOW-CARB RECIPE BOOKS $12-$30

Every year I add to my recipe book collection – I say you can never have enough recipe books! These paperback books are from some of my favorite low-carb websites and recipe creators!

  Keto Comfort Food Classics: Your Favorite Recipes Made Keto by Kate Jaramillo (Paperback)

Keto Comfort Food Classics

Giving up your favorite indulgences can make the transition to keto challenging. This cookbook of keto comfort foods is here to help, with dozens of recipes for beloved comforting favorites, made keto-friendly!

From casseroles and cakes to dumplings and pasta, these satisfying and soulful dishes come together easily, so you can eat the classic comfort foods you love while keeping keto. When your diet includes your favorite things, it’s a snap to stick with it for the long term.

Check out Keto Comfort Food Classics!

  5-Ingredient Keto Dinners: 28 Easy Five Ingredient Keto Entrees by Taryn Scarfone (Paperback)

5-Ingredient Keto Dinners: 28 Easy Five Ingredient Keto Entrees

I’m all about fast and simple recipes so I had to include this brilliant recipe book by keto blogger, Taryn Scarfone.

Take the stress out of dinner with 28 easy keto-friendly recipes with 5 ingredients or less.

You’ll find casseroles, comfort food, slow cooker, pressure cooker recipes, and more. Most importantly, she includes photos, instructions, and the ALL important nutrition facts for every recipe.

AND….Bonus Alert!! Five 5-ingredient side dishes to serve along with your entrees!

Find out more about 5-Ingredient Keto Dinners

  The Essential Keto Cookbook by Louise Hendon (Paperback)

The Essential Keto Cookbook

This is a wonderful dairy-free recipe book which includes a mix of western and Asian recipes.

Some of my favorites recipes include:

Almond Butter Chocolate Shake

Fiery Buffalo Wings

Guacamole Burgers

Chocolate Coffee Coconut Truffles

Check out The Essential Keto Cookbook 

    Keto Loco by Megan Ellam – Australia ONLY (Paperback)

  The Keto Loco Cookbook is Megan’s newest cookbook. It’s packed with 100+ delicious keto recipes the whole family will L.O.V.E.

EVERY recipe has both conventional and thermal cooking instructions.

EVERY recipe is gluten-free, grain-free, sugar-free.

Keto Loco includes recipes or variations including 85 dairy-free, 76 egg-free, 102 nut-free, 98 keto vegetarian, 76 keto vegan recipes and every recipe includes options/methods for a thermal cooker as well.

US Customary and metric measurements

Complimentary eBook with every hard copy purchase

Order your paperback copy of Keto Loco (Australia only)

  Tasteaholics’ Keto-in-5 Series (Paperback)

Dessert in 5 Recipe Book

If you’re buying for the mom that likes to be time efficient and super organized, then look no further. The Tasteaholics Recipe Books each contain 30 recipes that use ONLY 5 INGREDIENTS, have up to 5G NET CARBS and you can make them in 5 EASY STEPS.

These books make it so easy to try new recipes without being complicated.

I love these recipe books and refer to them constantly for simple keto recipe ideas that don’t require a ton of time or ingredients and won’t blow my macros for the day.

The books are available in paperback to buy individually or as a collection. The Collection includes:

  Keto in an Instant: 100 Ketogenic Recipes for Your Instant Pot by Stacey Crawford (Paperback)

Keto in an Instant: 100 Ketogenic Recipes for Your Instant Pot

Keto in an Instant features 100 simple, low-carb ketogenic recipes each designed to be made in the Instant Pot  – including breakfasts, mains, soups and stews, sides, desserts and more!

Every recipe includes clear, detailed instructions and essential nutrition information. You’ll also learn how the ketogenic diet works, the benefits, as well as tips and tricks for using and maintaining an Instant Pot. 

 A true must have for all Instant Pot fans!!

Grab Keto In An Instant.

  ESSENTIAL KETO TOOLS & GADGETS $15-$55

Klean Kanteen Wide Double Wall Vacuum Insulated Stainless Steel Coffee Mug with Leak Proof Café Cap 2.0

  This awesome Kleen Kanteen bottle keeps coffee warm for up to 6 hours every day. It also keeps drinks cold for up to 24 hours.

I can verify that this is leak-proof bottle, having had it tip over many times in my handbag and no spills!

Learn more about the Klean Kanteen Insulated Bottle

  Hidrate Spark 3 – The smart water bottle that tracks water intake

Hidrate Spark 3 Smart Water Bottle, Tracks Water Intake and Glows to Remind You to Stay Hydrated, BPA Free, 20 oz, Royal Blue

Okay so this is a game changer as all keto moms know they need to keep their water intake super high while eating a low-carb diet. This genius “smart” water bottle tracks how much water you’ve consumed and syncs the data to an app via bluetooth.

It even starts glowing to remind you to drink more!

BPA Free, 20 fl oz / 592 mL

Click here to learn more about Hidrate Spark 3

  Zoodle Maker – Microplane Spiral Slicer

Zoodle Maker – Microplane Spiral Slicer

Spiralizer’s are a staple in any low-carber’s kitchen. I use this one by Microplane for whipping up zucchini noodle to have with my family favorite low-carb meatballs recipe.

Check out the Microplane Spiral Slicer

  Chaffle (Mini-Waffle) Maker

Dash Chaffle Maker

An self respecting keto mama NEEDS a chaffle maker.

In case you’ve missed this huge craze that has swept the low-carb world this year, a chaffle is a small waffle made with cheese and egg.

There super easy to make and can be enjoyed with butter, sugar-free maple syrup just like real waffles.

Or chaffles can be used as a bread replacement for burgers or sandwiches.

And there are a gazillion chaffle recipes online now too, so take your pick and get creative. 

Check out the Dash Chaffle maker here

  Spiralizer 5 Blade

Spiralizer 5-Blade Vegetable Slicer, Strongest-and-Heaviest Spiral Slicer, Best Veggie Pasta Spaghetti Maker for Keto/Paleo/Gluten-Free, Comes with 4 Recipe Ebooks

For mom’s that like receiving kitchen appliances as gifts (??) this fantastic spiralizer comes with 5 different blades so you can spiralize root vegetables like sweet potato or carrots for carb up nights.

Find out  more about Spiralizer 5 Blade

  Aerolatte To Go, Milk Frother

Aerolatte To Go, Milk Frother

For bulletproof coffee on-the-go, this little gadget does the job. Useful for blending together your coffee, MCT oil powder or coconut oil and butter right in your mug or in a travel flask like the Kleen Kanteen above.

It’s battery operated so makes travel easy.

>>>Aerolatte To Go, Milk Frother

  THE GIFT TO BUY FOR THE MOM THAT HAS EVERYTHING

Dr. Bronner’s Liquid Soap Sampler

  Dr. Bronner’s Liquid Soap Sampler

Buy Dr Bronner’s in Australia here.

If none of these gift ideas seem right, then some beautiful, organic bodywash is the ultimate no-fail gift for any mom or woman.

I love these soaps because they are fully biodegradable & use all-natural ingredients. They’re made with plant-based ingredients you can pronounce—no synthetic preservatives, thickeners, or foaming agents. 

The scents are gorgeous: Almond, Unscented, Citrus, Eucalyptus, Tea Tree, Lavender, Rose, and Peppermint.

Healthy moms like to reduce the chemicals that we use on our body’s everyday. This gift does that as well as being a joy to use.

What mom wouldn’t love that!

Get Dr. Bronners Liquid Soap Sampler here.

  ★ What are you giving the keto women in your life? Let us know in the comments…. we’re always looking for new ideas!

          This post was originally published in December of 2018, but was republished and updated in October of 2020.

This post contains affiliate links which means I may receive a small commission if you purchase some items. Ordering through my site will not change the price you pay. Small commissions like this help to support this blog and my bulletproof coffee habit…

!function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s){if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function(){n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments)};if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n; n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0';n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0];s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)}(window, document,'script','https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js'); fbq('init', '394872947517405'); // Insert your pixel ID here. fbq('track', 'PageView');

You can click the LINK to start creating your 8-week plan. Simply follow the plan to achieve a successful keto diet.

⠀ LINK : CLICK HERE LINK :CLICK HERE

from Your Keto Plan https://ift.tt/3oZoIQL

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot - “Not a Warlock” (Rated PG13)

Kurt and Blaine's son Tracy has a unique request for what he wants to be for Halloween, which Kurt is more than happy to help him with, but it ends up coming with some unexpected stress ... and an equally unexpected revelation on Kurt's part. (2469 words)

A/N: Tis the season once again. I'm feeling a little Halloween-y so I thought I would post this. This is also a re-write. Let me know what you think <3

Read on AO3.

“What an adorable little warlock!”

Kurt sighs to himself. It’s the first comment that they’ve gotten so far, but they’re only at the first house on the block. Kurt knows it’s not going to be the last.

“Actually” - Kurt puts his hands protectively on his son’s shoulders, preparing to deflect whatever unintendedly offensive remark his explanation might garner - “he’s dressed as a witch this year for Halloween. Not a warlock.”

“Oh?” The woman at the door, holding a bowl filled with Butterfingers (Tracy’s absolute favorite candy in the world), sizes the little boy up and down. Kurt’s son stands patiently on the woman’s doorstep dressed in a black, ankle-length gown that Kurt designed and made; holding an authentically-styled besom, which Kurt and Tracy made together using twigs they’d gathered in their front yard. Kurt spent close to an hour doing Tracy’s makeup, covering the boy’s skin with green face paint, shading his cheeks and eyes black to make his chubby, cherubic boy sinister (which didn’t work too well since Tracy’s natural cuteness prevailed against Kurt’s makeup mastery). Kurt even fashioned a hooked nose prosthetic and wart from liquid latex. Kurt went through all of this in the hopes that Tracy would look undeniably and unmistakably like a witch, a la Idina Menzel from Wicked. But, apparently, it didn’t work as well as he thought. “But, aren’t male witches traditionally called warlocks?”

“Maybe,” Kurt says, keeping his voice bright and his disposition cheery for as long as he can before he’s forced to call on his inner papa bear for reinforcements, “but Tracy decided he wanted to be a witch for Halloween, so that’s what he is.”

“Yup,” Tracy says proudly, holding his bag up for a piece of candy, “and Hepburn is my animal familiar.” Tracy looks over his raised arm at the Ander-Hummel’s pet Labradoodle sitting obediently beside him. The woman’s eyes follow. She raises a brow at the off-white colored dog. Tracy leans in close to the lady putting two bars of chocolate in his bag. “We were going to dress him up as a cat, but I thought that might be a little mean. You know … because he’s a dog.”

“Gotcha.” The woman gives Tracy a wink that, thankfully, looks genuine. “Well, you definitely have my vote for best witch costume this year. Happy Halloween!”

“Happy Halloween!” Kurt smiles, steering Tracy down the street. He breathes a sigh of relief, but it doesn’t calm him. They’ve just started their route. They still have about three blocks of houses to go.

And each one goes about the way Kurt pictured it.

Knock-knock.

“Trick or Treat!”

“What an adorable warlock!”

“I’m a witch.”

“He’s a witch.”

“But isn’t a male witch called a warlock?”

“Normally, I suppose, but this year Tracy wanted to be a witch. So, he’s a witch. Trick or Treat!”

Knock-knock.

“Trick or Treat!”

“Look at the cute war---“

“Witch. He’s a witch.”

“I’m a witch.”

“But, aren’t male witches…”

“Still a witch. Happy Halloween!”

Knock-knock.

“Trick or Treat!”

“Oh, Tracy! What an inspired little warlock---“

“Witch! He’s a witch He’s dressed as a witch this year, not a warlock! A witch!” There’s an awkward moment of quiet staring between Kurt and the matronly lady at the front door. His smile, about as fake as his exhausted, twitchy lips can form, somehow grows to meet the lines wrinkling his stressed brow. “Happy Halloween!”

By the twenty-fifth house, Kurt’s face is frozen with strain. He’s smiling too tight and grinding his teeth. Before people open their mouths to say anything about his son’s costume, Kurt barks out, “Witch! He’s a witch. Not a warlock, but a witch! He wanted to be a witch, so he’s a witch! Got it? Trick or Treat!”

If Blaine was going door-to-door with them instead of manning their own front door with a bowl of full-sized Snickers, he would joke that people are giving Tracy two candy bars instead of the requisite one (which they are) not because he’s so damn adorable (which he is) but because they want crazy-eyes Kurt Ander-Hummel to go away and not come back later in the night to torch their houses.

Knock-knock.

“Trick or Treat!”

“Oh, Tracy!” Mrs. Henderson, one of their older neighbors, with a son already grown and gone, puts a slightly shaking hand to her lips as she gets a good look at the beaming boy on her doorstep. “Don’t you make the sweetest little---“

“Witch!” Kurt cuts in, his reaction a reflex by now. “He’s a witch!”

Mrs. Henderson stares at Kurt, wide-eyed with surprise, but aims a delighted smile at Tracy.

“I was just about to say what a smart little witch you make, Tracy,” she says. “And what a bold costume choice.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Henderson,” Tracy says, rolling on his heels and waiting patiently for his candy.

“You know, when my Artie was seven, he wanted to be Malibu Barbie for Halloween.”

Kurt’s stiff veneer, crackling along the edges, softens at the green-eyed woman addressing his little boy.

“Really?” Kurt asks, astonished.

“Yup. He’d made up his mind the second those dolls hit the shelves, and asked me for a costume every day after that. Told everyone we knew about it. Even told people on the street he’d just met.”

“Why did he want to be Barbie so badly?” Kurt asks, relaxing enough to lean against the doorframe, no longer gearing up for an argument.

“Well, look at her!” Mrs. Henderson chuckles. “She had a dream house, a Corvette, she was a doctor, went to the moon, flew a plane, she was even president!”

“True,” Kurt agrees, surprised that he’d never thought of it that way. With the way people always cry out to ban Barbie for promoting an unhealthy body image, Kurt had overlooked all of the positive things Barbie has done in her life, things little girls (and boys) should be encouraged to try and do.

The conversation pauses while Mrs. Henderson reaches for a treat for Tracy, the inevitable question hanging in the air, but Kurt feels like a hypocrite for considering asking it.

“My Artie isn’t homosexual,” Mrs. Henderson says, answering the question anyway, as if she knew that’s what Kurt was waiting for. She tucks a homemade popcorn ball and a Three Musketeers into Tracy’s bag. “But that wouldn’t have mattered. Barbie is a role model as far as I’m concerned, and I felt there was nothing wrong with it. Other people” – She shrugs – “well, you know what they say about opinions and butt holes.”

“Mrs. Henderson!” Tracy exclaims with a giggle.

“Yeah, I know.” Kurt laughs. “So, what did you do?”

“Well, I made him two costumes that year. I made him a Malibu Barbie costume - the gold swimsuit with a pink cover-up shirt that ties in the front, and a big blonde wig. But I also made him a Superman costume with a cape and …” Mrs. Henderson shakes her head. “You know, in the end I knew which one he was going to pick, so I put extra time and effort into it.”

“Which one was he?” Tracy asks. Kurt inches forward, on the edge of his seat.

Mrs. Henderson puts a finger up, reaching out to a shelf by the door for a photo album. She flips a few pages, then shows Kurt and Tracy a photograph of a smiling boy in a blonde wig, wearing a gold bathing suit with a pink cover-up.

“Oh my goodness!” Kurt chuckles. “He looks adorable!”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Henderson says, holding the album lower for Tracy to see. “You know, there were three other children dressed as Barbie that year, but he was the cutest. Everyone said so.”

“Where’s that costume now?”

“Artie’s daughter wore it for Halloween a few years back,” she says, returning the album to its shelf. “This year she wanted to be Cobra from G.I. Joe, and you know, no one gave her any grief about it. Most people think it’s cute, her being a fan of boy things.”

Kurt nods. “Strange, huh?”

“Meh.” The older woman waves a hand in front of her face. “It seems to be the way of human beings to try and stick everybody in a little box with their name on it, and three lines maximum saying who they are, but there’s only one time in your life you should ever let that happen, and even then, make sure you approve of the summary.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, catching her meaning. He remembers his mom and dad both saying something similar when he was growing up. It’s still excellent advice. “Good night, Mrs. Henderson. Thanks so much for everything.”

“Yup,” Tracy agrees, happy to move on since most of the conversation had started going over his head. “Your popcorn balls are the best!”

“I’m glad you like them. Have a safe night.” She sends Kurt and Tracy off with a final wave, then closes her door, and the smile on Kurt’s face starts to look a little less manic.

***

“Okay” - Blaine climbs under the comforter with his worn-out husband, already in bed and reading a magazine - “I got the story from the munchkin while I was tucking him in. Now you tell me - how did it go?”

“About sixty/forty.” Kurt closes his magazine and sets it aside. “But to tell you the truth, by the time we reached our last house, I began to realize that most of the stress of the evening was on me. Nobody was trying to be mean to Tracy or make him feel bad about his costume. It just needed a little explaining. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Did you see the look on his face when he got home?” Blaine lays with his head in Kurt’s lap. “If anyone did give him the evil eye, I don’t think he noticed one way or the other.”

“They didn’t,” Kurt reassures him.

“That’s good,” Blaine says with a they better not have or else expression on his face.

“That’s because we live in a nice, polite, mostly tolerant, sheltered little hamlet,” Kurt says. “We might have our differences with a few of our neighbors, but for the most part, they’re decent people.”

“Does the include Mrs. Sebiane?” Blaine raises his eyebrows playfully, waiting for the rant he knows is coming.

“Okay” - Kurt starts, talking mostly with his hands - “I mean, I love butterscotch chips as much as the next person, but please! They shouldn’t go in everything!”

“She says it’s her secret ingredient.”

“Yeah, well, FYI, it isn’t a secret, especially when everything she bakes comes out puke orange!”

“Oh, God! That image is going to be burned into my eyes forever!”

Kurt crosses his arms, grazing his husband’s nose with his elbow, but Blaine stays put. Horizontal with his head in his husband’s lap is one of Blaine’s favorite positions in the world. But right before Blaine’s eyes, the fire in Kurt’s expression dims, and an overall look of tired returns to his face.

“Blaine?” Kurt stares at the wall when he speaks, at the pictures hanging there of their little family – Blaine and Kurt on their wedding day, Tracy on the first day of school, his father and Carole from last Christmas, old pictures of Finn from way back in high school. His eyes land on those and stay there, on pictures taken in the choir room, the auditorium, the gym – places he considered both home and hell for him. “Is it awful that I hope that Tracy … isn’t gay?”

Blaine sighs. He saw this coming, and not just because of tonight. It’s been weaving its way into the background of many of their recent conversations with regard to their son. The moment Tracy asked Kurt if he could be a witch for Halloween, at the start of the school year when his class started reading selections by Roald Dahl, Blaine had seen something foreign in Kurt’s eyes, something Kurt wasn’t talking about, something Blaine himself had never even thought to consider.

“No,” Blaine says, taking his husband’s hand, “it’s not awful, sweetheart. It’s understandable. You don’t want him to have problems. You don’t want him to get bullied the way we did – Slushied in the face or beaten up outside of a school dance. You don’t want people to make the choice to hate him without getting to know him. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“If the world were just a little bit different …” Kurt starts, but a sniffle stalls his progress.

“I know.” Blaine kisses Kurt’s soft skin. “And it’s Tracy’s generation that has to carry the burden of making it different. I mean, you and I, and the generation after us, we’re doing what we can, but I’m not sure it’s going to be what it needs to be when the time comes.”

“That’s part of what I’m afraid of,” Kurt admits in a shaky voice. “I catch myself praying that if he is gay, he changes, not the world, and I …” Kurt’s words bleed into a nervous laugh “… I kind of hate myself for it.”

“Hey” - Blaine sits up, pulling his husband into his arms and rocking him gently - “it’s okay. Don’t be so hard on yourself. I mean, isn’t that my job?” Blaine bounces his eyebrows, and Kurt chuckles at his husband’s weak attempt at raunchy humor.

“You’re not doing it very well if I’m thinking about all this heavy stuff.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” Blaine says, kissing his husband on the forehead. “You’d be a fool if you weren’t. But the important thing is that if Tracy ever does come to us and tell us that he’s gay, or bi, or pan, or ace, or trans, or anything else under the sun, that we’re the most loving, supportive parents we can be, right? We should live in the kind of world that accepts our son no matter what, not the kind he needs to change to live in, but … that’s not reality.”

“I know,” Kurt says. “We have to roll with the punches, and be prepared to handle the big issues when the time comes.”

Blaine runs a hand through his husband’s hair, cradling his cheek when his palm brushes against it. “No one said being parents would be easy.”

“You’re right.”

“I know I’m right.” Blaine chuckles. “It happens quite a bit. You always sound so surprised.”

Kurt shakes his head. “How did you get to be so smart, and compassionate, and know the perfect thing to say all the time?”

“I lucked out.”

“Genetics?”

Blaine squeezes his husband tight. “Nope. I married the smartest, most compassionate man I’ve ever met, and he’s been rubbing off on me ever since.”

[onceuponamirror]

heart rise above

///// CHAPTER 10

summary: It wasn’t an experiment with freedom borne of some Americana fantasy; rather, a road trip of purely logistical intentions. The plan was simple. Drive from Boston to Chicago for his sister’s college graduation. That’s it.

Or, he drives a Ford Pickup Named Desire.

Mechanic!AU

fandom: riverdale ship: betty x jughead words: 50k chapters: 10/19

[read from the beginning] [read the latest]

.

.

.

I wonder about the love you can't find And I wonder about the loneliness that's mine

.

.

.

Veronica asks Betty to meet up at her apartment before the double date, even though they have plans to drive themselves separately. But Ronnie sounded very cryptic over the phone, so there’s no hesitation.

And, like the good Cooper girl she is, Betty arrives promptly at eight as requested. When she knocks, Veronica throws open her apartment door, still dressed in her work outfit of a pressed black pantsuit. “Ugh, would you believe I only just got home?”

Veronica sighs heavily as she unpins her pearl earrings and drops them in a bowl by the door, gesturing for Betty to follow her into the apartment. There seems to be something wearier around her shoulders than the usual post-work frustration, but Betty can’t get a good look at it, as she’s already crossing the room and reaching for the uncorked bottle of white wine on the dining table.

She pours Betty a light glass, and then takes a hearty sip of her own. “I am so ready to quit, B. Thank god I only have two more months.” Having spent the last two years listening to Veronica bemoan the life of an underling paralegal in a small town law firm, this is nothing Betty isn’t used to.

“I swear, I’m only one more night of overtime without pay from finding my inner Carrie,” Veronica says dryly. She gives Betty a quick once over. “Cute outfit, by the way. Just enough décolletage to make your mail-order love interest swoon.”

Betty smiles in relief, given she’d spent a solid hour throwing on every shirt she had before settling on the original choice: a cropped baby blue top with a wide scoop neck and a pair of high rise black jeans. She sips her wine and glances around; something seems different about the apartment. “Did you rearrange the furniture?”

Veronica takes another gulp of wine, glancing at Betty over the rim of her glass in the way that usually precursors a conversation about law school, Veronica’s upcoming move to Los Angeles, or her opinions on Betty living with her mother.

(Which she finds a little rich, considering Veronica’s own mother lives in the apartment upstairs.)

“I started selling some things,” Veronica admits hesitantly. “I figure if I get started now, I won’t be so overwhelmed come Judgment Day. Apparently, it also helps the realtor show people around and ‘envision this space as their own.’”

“Makes sense,” Betty says, trying to stamp out the queasy reminder that her best friend is moving nearly three thousand miles away.

Veronica sees right through it, as usual, and sighs as she leads them back into her bedroom. Betty plops down onto her canopy bed, as Veronica starts to sift through her closet absentmindedly. “Remind me again why you’re not coming with me?”

Betty rolls her eyes, because they’ve been down this road so many times she could map it from memory. “Because my family is here, and so is my business.”

“But your best friend in the entire world is moving to LA,” Veronica replies, batting her eyelashes with mock innocence. “And sorry, do you mean the business you own half of and share with your mom and sister, or the one where you’re an unpaid nanny and live-in housekeeper?”

She appreciates the way Ronnie is always defensive on her behalf, but sometimes, it feels a bit too pointed. This is one of those moments, but at Betty’s look, Veronica just sends her a pouted bottom lip and puts down her wine glass. “Please come with me.”

“Okay, I’ll come with you,” Betty says, with obvious sarcasm.

Veronica claps her hands together. “Yay! Alright, I’m thinking Echo Park for neighborhoods? It’s small, but supposedly it’s an ideal blend of useless artisanal products and effective bohème. Deeply gentrified, of course, which is a consideration—”

“V, I was kidding. You know I’m not moving to LA,” Betty reminds her, for the umpteenth time.

She huffs. “I just don’t understand why not,” she snaps, and Betty once again gets the impression that Veronica’s mood is more tightly wound than usual. “Do you know why I’m going to the city of angels, Betty? I could’ve gone anywhere for law school. Stayed in state—god knows it would’ve been cheaper—or at least found a nice little city on the Eastern seaboard. But people have been going west in search of meaning for hundreds of years, B. Isn’t that something we’re all looking for?”

Betty opens her mouth, but Veronica sees the cornered look on her face and spares her the misery. Her expression softens. “I’m sorry. You know the last thing I want to do is project. But…sometimes I just wonder. And worry. You hate Riverdale.”

“I don’t hate Riverdale,” Betty insists, which is true. “I…am sometimes frustrated by the way things turned out, but there a lot of people with a lot worse—”

“Yes, there are starving children all over the world, I know, I know,” Veronica interrupts. “Doesn’t mean your problems aren’t also valid, sweetie.”

“You know, I don’t see you having this lecture with Kevin, who is also staying in Riverdale,” Betty points out, but it’s a weak attempt, even for her.

“Kevin is an out gay man in a long term relationship who wants to be a politician, Betty,” she explains, even though they both know the reason. “He has to start on a local level, so his hometown is ideal. It’s tragic and ridiculously erroneous, but unfortunately where we’re still at in America 2017. And you and I both already knew that. So don’t even.”

Betty exhales, because Veronica has been broaching the topic of Betty moving with her a lot more often lately, in a way that she loves to play off as a joke, but tonight, something seems different. Betty has spent so much time convincing herself that she’ll manage without her best friend, that she’ll miss her so much but she’s happy for her—that she hasn’t stopped to think about how Ronnie will manage without her best friend too.

It’s one thing for Betty to say goodbye to Veronica knowing she’s off in pursuit of her dreams, and it must be another for Veronica to do the same, all the while knowing how secretly trapped Betty feels.

They need to get ready to go soon, so there isn’t much time for Betty to ruminate on this, but she knows it’s a thought that’ll keep her up over the course of the week.

“Is this why you asked me here today?” Betty asks softly, tucking her hair behind ears. (She’d decided to wear it down again today, having liked the reaction it got before.) She cracks a smile. “Another attempt at practicing your lawyer voice?” 

Something moves across Veronica’s face, as if she might be about to say something. Instead, she quickly turns back to face her closet.

“Psh. As if I haven’t been arguing my way into everything my whole life. No, obviously I asked you here for fashion advice.” She twists back, holding a lacy black dress up against herself and giving it a little swish. “What do you think? Too much?”

“For the bowling alley? Yes,” Betty says emphatically. Veronica waves a dismissive hand and returns to her wardrobe; after a little bit of debate, they both agree on a mid-length polka dot skirt and a silky black tank top, to be worn tucked in.

Veronica appears pleased, but as she settles in front of her vanity and starts her make up, Betty catches a glimpse of Veronica’s reflection. There’s a spot of something waning, and it passes quickly, but not before Betty sees a thought moving faraway in her mind.

.

.

.

She and Veronica walk into the bowling alley arm-in-arm, but separate as they near their dates, who are waiting just beyond the entrance and outside the parallel arcade. Archie is saying something, one hand moving animatedly, but Jughead doesn’t seem to be paying attention. He bounces on his feet and stares at the ceiling in the way Betty has noticed usually does when he’s distracted by his thoughts.

Veronica passes Betty a sly look, because clearly she sees it too, and then strides forward, wiggling her fingers at the two of them. “Hello, boys,” she calls, with a voice like wind chimes. She and Archie greet each other with a comfortable kiss, while Betty slows her steps a few feet before reaching Jughead.

“Hi,” she says quietly. He gives her a long once over and her whole body warms under his gaze.

“Hey. You look really pretty, Betty,” he says, scratching his neck.

She looks down at her outfit, pleased that she’d trusted her instincts rather than allow Veronica to play Barbie; there had been a brief, last-minute struggle for control in which Veronica had tried to push her into a skirt that had been inappropriately short for an activity like bowling. But if this is the reaction a plain pair of high-waisted skinny jeans gets, Betty wonders how the skirt would’ve gone over.

“Oh. Thanks,” she breathes.

She gets a good look at him, and realizes he too looks a bit dressier than normal. Still clearly, purely Jughead, but smoothed around the edges; he’s wearing his typical outfit of black jeans and drooping suspenders, but rather than his usual aged t-shirt and enclave of plaid, he’s donned a dark navy button up of a fine caliber, open over a black undershirt.

And, she notices: again, no beanie.

He looks good.

“Nice shirt,” she adds, reaching forward and straightening his collar. His Adam’s apple bobs, tracing the movement.

She means it as a compliment, but he appears suddenly self-conscious. “Well, I need to do laundry, so it was either the ancient System of a Down t-shirt I accidentally brought or the one I got for my sister’s graduation. I know it’s kind of dressy for just bowling, but…not that this is just bowling—”

“Juggie.” His mouth promptly clamps shut and she smiles up at him. “I meant it looks nice.”

Betty glances around and realizes they’re alone. Veronica and Archie have slipped away, and she spots them across the alley, clearly giving them their space. She breathes a sigh of relief; Veronica had promised not to tease her about this double date, but Betty honestly hadn’t believed her until now.

She loves her best friend dearly, but Veronica can be so insufferable when she’s proven right and Betty would never have been able to have a good time if she was spending the whole evening fielding off smug smirks.

Now that it’s just her and Jughead, it seems like—well, just the two of them, joking under the hood of his truck or bantering over eggs. The simplest act of just being around him; this is the part that has always felt easy.

And yet, somewhere between waking up knowing it was because he was no longer holding her and the tense conversation about things very explicitly unsaid, something has definitely changed. What it is, Betty doesn’t know, but it hangs between them; headier, hushed, and curling slowly like a tendril of smoke against the light.

A shift that makes the world feel just slightly tilted beneath her feet, drawing her closer towards him as if gravity itself commands it.

With a start, Betty realizes her fingers have slid down slightly, moving from his collar to his chest.

It feels thrillingly new; beyond the spare pull on his arm or the bit of snuggling on the couch last night—which had honestly been a daze of post-panic haziness, so she’s not even sure it totally counts—she hasn’t experimented with any kind of physical closeness with him until now.

Normally, she’d have already been finding excuses to lay her hand on his shoulder, or sneak in little touches, but up until this afternoon, she’d been so confused by what he wanted. Jughead seems like a guy who deeply values personal space until he's comfortable, so she hadn’t wanted to overstep or make him feel awkward.

But she knows it’s mutual now. He called this a date. So she presses her fingers gently against the fabric of his shirt and gladly plays with fire.

“Hi,” she says again.

“Hi,” he returns, his voice very low. His eyes rake across her face; it’s an expression she’s only seen him wear from afar, furiously typing away in the back of a booth at Pop’s, like he’s concentrating on some kind of thematic riddle.

“We probably shouldn’t keep them waiting,” Betty says, but she hasn’t moved.

Jughead scoffs, and the moment seems to fizzle out, like a sparking rope of dynamite that never quite reaches its point. “Look, I just spent the last hour listening to the saga of Archie’s battle for creative integrity over a talking duck commercial, so he can fucking stand to wait a bit.”

“Quote the quack, ‘Nevermore,’” Betty giggles.

Jughead laughs outright. “Yikes, Cooper. Should I make a joke about why a duck is like a writing desk?”

“Edgar Allen oh-no,” she says, and Jughead sighs with aplomb.

“Jesus, that’s terrible, Betts. Terrible. This joke is over, I’m calling it,” he says. “Poor Poe. He’s probably rolling in his grave as we speak.”

“Pretty sure he was waiting his whole life to sulk from beyond the grave, so I think it’s fine.”

His lips are pursed against a grin. His eyes sweep over her once more, and at this angle, Betty is sure he’s got a decent view of her cleavage. “Did I mention you look really nice?”

“It’s just jeans and a top,” she says, reluctantly dropping her hand from his chest because she can’t stand here forever, half-groping him with what she’s sure is an absurdly dopey expression.

Jughead snorts playfully. “I’ll be happy to prove you wrong on that. In iambic pentameter, if you want. Or, do you like haikus?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Betty sighs, but feeling ridiculously pleased. She loops her hands around his arm and tugs him towards Archie and Veronica. “Come on, Shakespeare.”

Upon the reunion, the four of them settle into the line for bowling shoes and lane assignments. Archie and Veronica are so deeply wrapped around one another that Betty feels nervous with just her elbow crooked around Jughead’s arm in comparison, so she drops it. She misses the warmth right away and instantly regrets it.

Veronica appraises Jughead with a nod. “Lovely shirt, by the way,” she says approvingly. “Nice to see you can clean up a bit.”

“Want me to take off my glasses so you can realize I’ve been beautiful all along?” Jughead drawls acerbically, which Betty expects is just because he knows a compliment on his wardrobe is a big deal coming from Veronica and it clearly embarrasses him.

“But you don’t wear glasses,” Archie says, his brow wrinkling with confusion. Jughead huffs, half exasperated and half amused.

“I gotta be honest,” Betty says, lacing her fingers behind her back as Jughead glances back her way. “I was almost expecting you to wear a tuxedo t-shirt.”

“No, this is good,” Jughead says, without missing a beat. He waves a hand between them. “Let’s just get what you really think of me out on the open early on.”

“Dude, you definitely owned one of those in middle school,” Archie says, tucking Veronica under his arms and resting his chin on the top of her head. He grins goofily at them.

“Whatever, shut up,” Jughead replies, so quickly that it veers on defensive. “I can’t be held accountable for my adolescent bullshit. Anyway, I have it on good authority that you still own a keyboard tie.”

“Uh, yeah, because those are funny,” Archie replies, like this is obvious.

“Oh my god, Archiekins,” Veronica says, twisting to look up at Archie. She looks so personally offended that Betty almost laughs out loud. “I’m so going to pretend I didn’t just hear that.”

In response, Archie just nuzzles against her neck until her expression turns soft again, leaving Jughead and Betty to exchange unimpressed looks.

It’s finally their turn in line, and everyone gives out their shoe sizes to the teenager behind the counter. As he runs off to collect their bowling shoes, Archie leans up against the counter and surveys Jughead with an expression of pure impishness.

“Too bad we’re not in Boston,” he says. “Because Jughead owns about four pairs of shoes—and one of those pairs happen to be bowling shoes.”

Betty looks up at Jughead with surprise. “You own your own bowling shoes?”

Jughead shrugs indifferently, his hands in his pockets. “What? They were on sale.”

“I just didn’t peg you for such a diehard,” Betty says, failing miserably at hiding a smile.

“Are you kidding?” Jughead says, raising his eyebrows. “It covers all my bases. It’s 90% sitting down, every bowling alley in America sells hot dogs and nachos, and…it’s a game of patience. Balance. Momentum. A certain je ne sais quoi,” he says, pinching his finger and thumb together and speaking in a terrible French accent that Betty knows Veronica would like to correct. “And again, a strong case to be made for the nachos.”

Honestly, when he explains it like that, bowling does seem like arguably the most Jughead-approved activity in the book. The conversation turns to the costs, which Archie and Jughead offer to split, but Betty tries to insert her own credit card, while Veronica admits she has no qualms about being treated to a free evening when she's about to go off to an expensive law school. Jughead rolls his eyes good-naturedly and doesn’t seem to mind Betty’s attempts to help pay, but Archie insists it’s the least they can do after all she’s doing for the truck, so eventually she withdraws her bid.

Meanwhile, the pimply teenager returns from the back and presents them with their shoes and available bowling lane. Immediately, Veronica has procured a moist towelette from her purse and is already wiping down her pair. She uses it to pick them up and carries the shoes in front of her at arm’s length, her lip curled into something very sour.

Jughead watches the whole exchange with interest. “Veronica doesn’t like germs,” Betty supplies in a half-whisper, leaning in against Jughead. He bumps her shoulder playfully and glances up at Veronica with amusement.

“Please. Find me a sane human being who does,” Veronica says over her shoulder. “Honestly, I still can’t believe I agreed to go bowling, of all things. Curiously, what’s the process on reporting identity theft?”

“C’mon. You said yes because you like me, babe,” Archie smirks, his arm dangling around her as they head towards their lane.

Babe, Jughead mouths at Betty, his eyes widening mischievously. She tries not to snigger.

When they all sit down, Veronica’s eyes are elsewhere beyond the alley, and it’s not until they’ve all changed into their rented shoes that she finally seems to snap back into the moment. Betty files away the moment for later, as it’s the same the faraway look she’d noticed back at Veronica’s apartment.

And it’s one thing for her best friend of over a decade to zone out when it’s just them, but it’s very unlike Ronnie to not be socially present among others.

“So,” Betty says, once they’ve set up their lane computer with their initials and game order. She sinks into the seat next to Jughead and puts her hands on her knees. “Should we do teams, maybe? Girls vs. boys?”

“Oh, honey, I would never do that to you,” Veronica replies, with a commiserating sort of look. She holds up both hands, her glossy manicure gleaming at Betty. “This is a seventy-five dollar manicure. I’m strictly bowling granny-style tonight. No, let’s stick with our dates. I have no problem leaving Archiekins to his own devices, but I couldn’t do that to my best girl.”

“Aw man,” Archie whines, as if he can’t help it. Veronica swivels towards him with a look that screams you did not just, so he very hastily adds, “Jughead’s just really good. I wanted him on my team.”

Jughead stretches his arms across his chest in a show of mock machismo. He grunts a little dramatically and glances over at Betty. “I mean, yeah. I don’t wanna brag, but…I’m gonna wipe the floor with all of you.”

Betty raises an eyebrow and shifts in her seat, crossing her legs so that she faces him. “Really, now?”

His arm slips around the back of her seat as he too twists towards her. “Oh, yeah,” he says, his voice dropping almost conspiratorially. “Hold onto your hat, Cooper.”

“I’ll put it with your missing beanie.” She means it jokingly, but the mood instantly shifts. Frowning, Jughead’s fingers dart up to his hair, as if about to tug on the hat that isn’t there.

“Yeah. I’m trying something out,” Jughead mumbles, dropping his hands back into his lap.

“What’s that?”

“Adulthood, I think,” he sighs, briefly glancing off at nothing. “Jury’s still out.”

Betty pauses, wondering what he means. But if nothing, she’s noticed the way the hat skirts around a sensitive subject, and seems to be some sort of long-held security blanket, so she suspects it has at least something to do with that.

“I like you with the hat,” she says gently. “But I also like you without it.”

His head is bowed slightly, but his eyes flick up. Clouds move across his face and Betty can’t begin to interpret the shape of them.

“So, Betty’s up first,” Archie says, with an air of impatience. Betty realizes that she and Jughead have been leaning in towards one another and having a very private conversation. She knows it’s a bit rude for a double date, but it’s a hard balance to strike for what is also her and Jughead’s very first.

The affection and comfort between Archie and Veronica only serves as stark reminder that Betty is on borrowed time with Jughead; she feels sorely behind schedule on where she’d like to be, so she consciously decides she wants to enjoy this.

(And she can’t help it if every time he looks at her, she feels like she’s about to jump out of her skin.)

She wants to know what her hands would feel like moving across the planes of his chest. Wants to brush the pad of her thumb against his bottom lip and memorize each freckle on his jaw.

It’s that thought, however, that forces Betty to accept that she must distract herself, lest she actually jump him thirty minutes into their first date.

She stands and selects a predictably pink bowling ball. Finding her pose, she swings her arm back, and lets the ball roll. It tumbles along the lane and takes down a comfortable number of pins. She manages to get all but two on her second try, and when she turns around, Jughead is grinning at her.

“Not too shabby,” he says, as she returns to her spot next to him.

Archie is next, and he does better than Betty, ending up with a spare. He throws Jughead a competitive sort of leer while Veronica very begrudgingly rises for her turn. As promised, she hugs the ball against her chest and simply lets it drop onto the smooth lane with a loud bang. It moves agonizingly slowly, but in the end somehow earns a perfect split.

When Jughead gets up, he takes his sweet time. He selects a green ball, puts it back, tries again with a black one, then a blue one, his fingers running deliberately over the surfaces all the while. This process goes on to the point where Archie calls out, “Dude, we don’t have all year, just bowl already,” and Jughead finally finds his mark.

He lines up against the lane, brings the ball up to his nose and then swings it back, dropping into a lunge as he sends it barreling down. It’s a perfect strike.

Betty and Veronica clap as he turns back around, but he just waves them off. “No paparazzi, please,” he mutters, dropping down next to Betty. He flashes her a wide, toothy grin that straddles the line of cocky, which is all the ammunition she needs for her imagination to start up again. Or, at least, that’s as PG-13 as she’ll allow herself to admit now that she’s noticed there’s a family of four bowling in the lane next to them.

This is getting ridiculous.

.

.

.

The game continues in a similar succession, and true to his promise, Jughead easily earns the highest score. Archie snags second place, while Betty and Veronica vacillate between third and fourth. Veronica’s technique of more or less dropping the ball onto the lane and walking away tends to either work radically well or not at all, so in the end, Betty manages a narrow defeat.

The decide they should try a second game (read: Archie demands a rematch), but Jughead insists he won’t play until he’s refueled, so he and Archie head off to the fast food grill in the back of the alley in search of greasy salvation.

Once they’re out of earshot, Betty scoots over to Veronica’s side of the chairs, excited to analyze how she think their date is going. But Veronica is staring off into space again, her chin propped up on the back of her hand, and doesn’t seem to realize Betty is even there until she says her name.

“Sorry B, did you say something?” She asks, blinking slowly as if to clear her thoughts.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” Betty demands, narrowing her eyes. “You’ve been acting weird all night.”

Veronica appears mildly shocked to have been called out—but to her credit, doesn’t deny it, which is probably what Betty would’ve done. She sighs and folds her hands carefully in her lap. “Do you think things are moving too quickly between me and Archie?”

It’s the last thing Betty expected her to say, so she’s briefly stunned silent. She nibbles her lips over the words, but decides Ronnie will want the truth. “Well, you know this is kind of what you do, right? You always throw yourself so fully into whatever you’re doing, right away. But I don’t know, V. Only you can answer that. Why do you ask?”

“I think you might’ve been right,” Veronica says in a half-whisper. Her eyes are lingering on a young couple giggling a few lanes down. “About why you were hesitant about Jughead. I’m starting to wonder if dating two highwaymen was a bad idea.”

Feeling like the air has left her lungs and alone with the thought you’re telling me this now?, Betty stares at Veronica, completely at a loss for words. Realizing the implications of what she’s said, Veronica turns to face her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t say it to scare you. You know I like Jughead, and I can tell he’s, like, Baroque-levels of romantic over you. But…honestly, Betty, I’m a little freaked out by how fast things are moving. We’re just spending so much time together. I see him on my lunch breaks, and then we’re together every single night,” she admits, worrying a red lip delicately between her teeth.

A pause sits like a body between them.

“Well, what would you tell me, if I was in your place?” Betty asks. This is the advice she always falls back on when she doesn’t know what else to say, but it doesn’t really apply here, since Betty is more or less also in Veronica’s place.

Veronica’s laugh is tinkling and sad as she uses the tip of her finger to stave off a tear. “To throw yourself into sex, probably,” she says around a scoff. She meets Betty’s eyes and sighs again. “I just… I thought that we were just having fun.”

“Are you not anymore?” Betty asks softly. She wonders if she’d read the wrong energy between Archie and Veronica; if she’d somehow mistook affection for a compensation for discomfort.

“We are, we are,” Veronica insists. Her eyes fall out of focus again as she fingers a gold chain around her neck. “But I just haven’t felt this way since Cheryl.”

Betty’s eyebrows shoot up; this is something that Veronica would never say lightly. She was with Cheryl for over three years; they talked about things like marriage and all other things that serious relationships get into. “How—”

“It’s not the same feeling, obviously,” Veronica interrupts, almost defensively. “They’re so different. The situation is so different. Cheryl and I had years and years of mounting tension before we ever did anything about it. Archie…it feels like I know him so well already. But really, hair color is the only thing they have in common.”

That and an obvious streak of competitiveness, but it won’t do any good to bring that up, so Betty just waits for Veronica to continue.

“With Cheryl…I loved her so much—and I always will, of course—but she drove me so crazy. She projected all of her insecurities onto me, she was so manic-depressive half the time, and refused to get help while we were together,” Veronica sighs, sniffing loudly. “Not that I didn’t play my part in that too—I got to the point where I’d just pick fights with her rather than ever try to talk about our issues. In the end, I was so exhausted. We were two immiscible liquids.”

She meets Betty’s eye as she dabs at her own, almost desperately trying to preserve her perfect black cat-eye makeup. “Archie is nothing like that. What you see is what you get; there’s no double meaning, no passive-aggressive repartee. It’s so relaxing, and so easy to be around him.”

Betty wants to say that Veronica can’t know that, can’t know him well enough to be so sure, but then she thinks of Jughead. Has she not already privately compared his strengths against Trev, locked away in the pink bedroom with the old thoughts? Has she, even just tonight, not thought about how it easy most things feel between them?

“And the sex, oh my god,” Veronica groans, pressing on her temples and pulling Betty back into the moment. “With Archie, it really feels like it could’ve been the start of something. And that, B, that is the crux of my crisis. I knew when and why Cheryl and I had run our course. But Archie and I are just getting started, and we’ll never know what we could’ve been.”

Betty understands all too well what Veronica means.

“This is all so uncharacteristically depressing of me, Betty,” she looks over at her with watery eyes, “but how much longer until the truck is finished?”

Betty exhales shakily. “Not much,” she admits warily. Like Veronica, things are moving faster than she anticipated, especially once she got the compressor ahead of schedule.

Veronica reaches over and grasps Betty’s hands. “Slow it down?” She asks, half a demand and half a plea. “I need more time to feel like this romantic tragedy isn’t being puppeteered by the Bard himself.”

She almost considers it. Almost allows the thought in, entertaining visions of more time, longer days, less anxiety, less impatience—but he has been very adamant from the get go that he has to be in Chicago at the end of the month, and she can’t betray him like that.

“I couldn’t do that to Jughead, V,” Betty says softly. “He’s going to his sister’s gradation, and I could never take that from him. And you know you couldn’t do that to Archie, either. Forcing someone to stay will only make them resent you.”

Veronica nods, like she expected this, but something exasperated swims in her eyes. “Are we still talking about the boys, or about you?”

Point taken, Betty thinks.

“Do you regret it?” She asks, after a long moment. She hooks her arm around Veronica and draws her against her shoulder, in the way they always do for one another when one of them is upset. “Starting things up with Archie?”

“No,” Veronica sighs. “But yes, in the more imminent sense.”

With a loud inhale, she sits up and attempts to settle into her usual perfect posture. “Sweetie, if you’re asking me if I think you shouldn’t pursue things with Jughead any further, unfortunately, my answer is still the same. I’m deep in the throws of ambiguity right now, but I still maintain that life is better lived as an Elizabeth Taylor than a Judith Campbell.”

Betty doesn’t get much of a moment to consider this, as Veronica quickly murmurs, “Oh, here they come,” and becomes an utter visage of composure. Jughead and Archie return with trays of drinks and piles of food, including a hefty pile of nachos that Jughead announces he intends to put away by himself.

He presents Betty with her requested order of curly fries, and the rest of the evening is spent eating and bowling. After the second game, Veronica opts out entirely and busies herself with online window shopping, and by the end of the night, Betty has definitely gotten a few helpful pointers from Jughead.

“Pretty soon you’ll be giving me a run for my money,” he says, after she uses his technique to win a strike.

“Yeah, sure. I bet you use these moves on all the girls,” she teases. “What is this, a sports movie?”

Jughead scoffs. “What girls? Betty, you’re the first person I’ve asked out in years. Actually—” He pauses, clearly thinking. “Wait, nope, Ethel asked me out. Unless you count the time I asked Ginger Lopez to dance because I lost a bet to Archie, you’re the first official one.”

Her eyes widen with this information, because she thinks Jughead is way too good-looking for this to be true. But not every attractive person spends their entire life fielding off romance like Veronica or Cheryl, so maybe she shouldn’t assume. Some of this must show on her face, however, because a flush quickly appears at the tips of his ears.

“Not that—I mean, I’ve had—shit,” he mutters, scrunching up his face. She doesn’t understand what he’s stammering around at first, but then she realizes he’s talking about sex. “I’m just not much of a relationship guy, I mean.”

This sends a stone straight to the bottom of her stomach, even though, in reality, it should make her feel relieved. If he isn’t looking for a relationship, she’s really got nothing to be worried about, right? It’s better that he’s upfront with her about it, so they can mess around a little without any strings or expectations on Betty’s end.

This is good, she tells herself, even as it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

.

.

.

Later, when they’re finally bowled out, there’s a half-hearted attempt to muster enthusiasm for drinks, but Veronica and Archie exchange completely obvious eyes of yearning and announce they’re feeling too “tired.”

Betty and Jughead watch the other two practically race each other to Veronica’s car, and once the vintage Mercedes is out of sight, Betty turns to him. “Want a ride?”

Jughead licks his lips. “Oh, sure. I was just gonna call a Lyft, but…always looking a way to pinch a penny.”

The whole ride back to his motel, something like anticipation creeps very slowly up her neck. It’s unnervingly satisfying in a way that is absolutely torturous, and given the way Jughead’s knee is aggressively bouncing up and down, she thinks he feels it too.

When they pull into the parking lot, it’s completely empty. A blue road sign overhead begs for vacancy, there’s not a soul in sight, the wind rustles a tree, and it feels like they’re the only people left in town.

She cuts the engine and glances over. “I had a really fun time tonight, Juggie,” she says as she twists towards him, unprepared for the distracted, darkened look in his eye. He fidgets with a thought, and then he moves.

His hands cup her face in order to present her with just the tiniest amount of warning before he’s kissing her.

He pulls back quickly, just enough to say something. His eyes dance rapidly across her face. “I—” He starts, but it’s promptly muffled by Betty chasing after his lips, desperate for an excuse to exorcise the tension between them. With the gearshift on the wheel, the front seat is nothing but a continuous cushion that they can stretch out along, so she crawls back against him until he’s pressed into the passenger door.

She’s not sure what exactly she’d been expecting, but whatever it was, she would’ve been wrong.

Their mouths move open against each other with an almost frenzied type of haste, as everything that’s sat slowly boiling between them finally begins to whistle its warning. Every touch lights her on fire; even with the simplest way where he presses his thumbs into the dimples where her back dips lowest, Betty’s whole body finds a new way to warm.

Maybe it’s the fearful, watery confession from Veronica still haunting her thoughts, but Betty is suddenly overcome by a wanton impatience. She wants him, and she wants him now. Jughead’s hands move to her arms, and seem to be trying to slow her down, but she ignores it. Doesn’t he realize how much time they’ve already wasted?

In the back of her mind, she knows this might be too much, too fast, but her skin is flushed with gooseflesh and all she cares about is chasing the burn between her legs. So Betty wraps her arms around his neck, smothers the thought, and sings a silent hymn for the life of vintage cars.

She kisses him in the type of car made for a midnight rendezvous and love in the time of moonlight; she kisses him like the whisper of a willow tree rippling along the water, in the secluded kind of hideaway known only by lovers.

She kisses him with a ticking clock, like the very one that still sits on the dashboard of her car. The second hand has been clicking into place for over fifty years, and won’t stop now.

Time and momentum are funny things, she realizes dimly. If momentum is the mark left behind as proof of time, but time is just a human perception, what is truth, as that clock quietly ticks along? Is it counting down to something, or forever going in circles?

All she knows is the two must work in tandem, ever passing one another and never quite meeting, and both seem to be a measure of something that both poetry and science have been trying to put to pen for centuries.

Betty has wanted more time before.

She’s felt the imminence of change, from childhood into adulthood and from having a life into just living. She’s said goodbye to the job she loved and the new city that held nothing but possibilities. She’s held her dying father’s hand and sobbed into his hospital bed and learned far too much about appreciating what you have, when you have it.

Like the bowling ball curving down the lane with intentions to strike, momentum swings into collision between them, and she’s never wanted more time than what she has with Jughead.

She fists a hand into his hair as he sits up slightly against the car door in order to drop kisses onto her neck, shoulder, and anywhere in reach that isn’t her mouth. She throws her head back to give him better access, and enthusiastically murmurs, “I want you,” into the air.

“Betts,” he attempts to mumble against her skin, but she’s afraid to hear it, so she shifts forward and drags her teeth against his bottom lip.

“Betty,” he tries again, more urgently, when she finally breaks for air. But she’s not known for much more than apple pie, fixing cars, and an acute case of tunnel vision, so she carries straight on.

“Do you want me to come up?” She whispers, sliding her palm down his stomach as she peppers his jaw with kisses. He’s straining beneath her and she has only one thought: I can help with that—but, to her surprise, he catches her hand just before it can reach the edge of his pants.

She blinks up at him, sure she’s about to see rejection in his face. Instead, his eyes are practically black with want, but his expression is nothing short of tortured. “I don’t…have anything,” he says, with meaning. “I wasn’t expecting—I didn’t want to assume—”

She squints at him, and then understands. He doesn’t have condoms.

“I’m not on the pill,” she tries to say, but she’s breathing so heavily that it takes a moment. She hasn’t been on birth control since breaking up with Trev, for no real reason except what was probably some kind of unconscious defense mechanism against moments exactly like this one.

Their shoulders rise and fall with a long breath as they catch the disappointment in each other’s eye.

It gives her a moment to finally gets a good look at what she’s done to him; his neck has all the makings of a warzone, his once pristine, crisp shirt is shoved forcefully half off and the black tank top underneath has been pushed up, exposing the defined expanse of skin she’s only seen once before and thought much of since.

She can’t see herself, but assumes she looks about the same kind of ruined. Her hair feels tangled and wild down her back, and she at least knows her own shirt is ridden up to her ribs.

His head falls back against the fogged window with a palpable thump.

With a start, Betty remembers where they are, and immediately blushes madly—not that it’s anything redder than the flush she already had. Betty Cooper, as you live and breathe. She can’t believe she nearly tried to give him a handjob in parking lot of a motel.

An empty parking lot, save for themselves, but there’s no way to know someone hadn’t walked by and seen them aggressively making out in a car like horny teenagers. Betty groans with embarrassment and hides her head in the crook of his shoulder; he’s still hard beneath her, but he chuckles anyway.

He curls a lock of her hair around his finger as she shifts against him, and tucks herself into a position that is decidedly less compromising. Still spread out along the length of the car, he welcomes her new spot against him, as one leg dangles off the driver’s seat and the other is propped up around her. They’re still breathing heavily.

“This is probably for the best,” Jughead says after a long moment, which makes Betty still. He notices, and rushes to add, “I just mean…we should take things a little slower, right?”

She can feel him looking at her and so she resolutely keeps her head down. She picks at a loose thread on her jeans. “Why?”

“Why?” Jughead repeats, confused.

Betty still can’t make herself look at him. “Do you not want me?”

“I think you can still feel the evidence to the contrary,” Jughead mutters, his hand on her knee. “There’s nothing not to want.” Something in his tone is asking her to look at him, but she won’t be able to get through this if she does.

“Okay, then. Well, we don’t have a lot of time together,” she says slowly. She thinks of Veronica and her advice; bravely going after what she wants, even in the face of doom. She thinks of all the forgotten promises she swore to herself, fresh off her father's death, that she would enjoy the people in her life for whatever little time she had them. She thinks of the ill-fated lovers on the pages of Jughead’s mind, and the fact that he isn’t a relationship guy.

“We’re just getting this out of our systems, right? Just sex? So we don’t wonder ‘what if’ down the line? So why take it slow?”

Finally, she glances up, but has no idea what to make of his expression. It’s guarded and thoughtful and mutable all at once and reveals absolutely nothing. “Yeah,” he says at last. “We’ll keep it just physical.”

It’s what she asked for, what she’s decided as the safest inevitable route to hell, but it still digs like a knife to the gut. “Yep. We’re adults. Our eyes are open,” she says, in a strange voice she doesn’t recognize as her own.

She wants to ask—what would you say if things were different? What would you want from me?

If they’d met in a circumstance less looming, if they’d known each other longer, had more time together—would he still have so casually mentioned he’s not interested in relationships? Would she have changed that in him?

Probably not, she thinks. She’s never been enough to will fate into her bidding before, so it’s unlikely this would’ve been any different.

Jughead’s mouth opens and closes, as if he can’t wrap around what he’d like to say.

A moment earlier, and she might’ve pointed out that there’s still plenty they can do without the need for condoms, but she now recognizes her impatience as overcompensation for fear of losing him. The resulting embarrassment is all she needs to kill the mood.

“Do you still—” He starts, but Betty slides away, back towards the driver’s seat.

“I should get home,” she says, facing the wheel and pushing her hair back from her face.

Jughead doesn’t move, still strewn out; his foot jiggles nervously against her thigh. “Are we—”

“We’re good,” Betty says firmly, forcing herself to look at him. The makings of tears start to sting warningly at her eyes, so she blinks quickly in order to keep them at bay. She stretches forward and squeezes his hand. “We can go out tomorrow night, and…try this all again?”

His eyes sweep over her face, and then he relaxes, slumping against the door. “Okay,” he says, somewhat tentatively but smiling all the same. “And I’ll, uh, be more prepared next time.”

Right.

Even so, Betty thinks she won’t be.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

[artificialqueens]

E.V.O.L Prologue (Trixya) - VicThirteen

A/N: Hi! So this is my first fic ever. Which also means I’ve never posted anything before. And I think it’s worth to mention English is not my first language. I really appreciate opinions and comments! This is another cis girl au inspired by Marina and the Diamonds’ album Electra Heart. I really hope you like it! The prologue is just an introduction, but chapter one is already on its way.

Also, I’d like to thank the italian bundle of awesome that helped me beta this. Thanks Bubbles bby <3

Prologue – Primadonna Girl

This was it, her last chance. If Trixie didn’t complete her internship hours in the next six months, she wasn’t graduating with her friends. She couldn’t stand the embarrassment of being left behind. And she simply couldn’t afford another semester worth of debt. She managed to get a few jobs doing hair and make-up for other students’ projects and some off-off-off-Broadway shows, which, luckily, counted for her mandatory internship hours. But she still had at least three months worth of work left to do and no signs of getting anything at all.

Trixie was as frustrated as she could be. She was born to be a star, to shine on a stage, to sign her pictures anywhere she went, to have her name shouted by crowds. Her life had been planned around this one and only goal. She could dance, she could sing and she looked like a living doll. Everyday she woke up at least an hour early to have her long blonde hair perfectly curled, her face sculpted with make up, her body embraced by the best look she could put together. There was no one like her. And yet, she wasn’t excelling. Not even in her classes, no one admired her. She wasn’t the best at anything. Only “good”, always just “good”. It killed her inner light everyday a little more. That’s why, when Kim walked into their over-decorated dorm room to tell her the news, she had to force a smile on her pink lips.

“I got the job!” Kim hugged her while bouncing slightly with excitement. “I’m starting next week! I am officially a make-up artist for a real fashion magazine!”

“Congratulations, honey!” Trixie smiled, using the best of her acting abilities.”I knew you were getting it, you deserve it!”

“Thanks! I am so happy, you have no idea, Trixie. I told you our dreams were gonna come true, didn’t I?”

Trixie sighed, her cheeks hurting lightly to keep her smile up. “Yeah, you did. I mean, you and Pearl just… got there. It’s really happening.”

Pearl had been hired as an assistant music producer at the studio she had interned in. If she wasn’t already the coolest girl in town, she was definitely conquering the title. Now, Kim was becoming the real deal too. Truth is, Trixie used to be the queen bee of the trio. And being out shined was huge no-no. There was a reason she had cut outs of Marilyn Monroe and Barbie pictures on her vision board. She was no opening act, she was Britney, bitch.

“Girl…” Kim looked at her with a concerned face. “You’re not getting in that defeated mindset again, are you? I’ve told, you have to be patient.”

“Of course not!” The blonde scoffed with an exaggerated wave of her hands. “I’m cool, Kim. I mean, I have bigger ambitions, so it takes longer to get there, right?”

The taller girl blinked slowly and pretended not to notice the arrogant undertone of what she heard. Trixie tended to do that – when she felt bad about herself, she tried to hide from the world, only the place she usually chose to hide was all the way up her own ass.

“Yes, that’s true” Kim agreed patiently. “There’s a lot coming your way, Trixie.”

–

The next morning, Trixie was up and ready in the blink of an eye, so she decided to get herself a croissant and a chocolatey frapuccino as a reward for not crying herself to sleep last night. While she waited for her breakfast, she looked around the café, scanning a cork board covered in party flyers, notes asking for help with school projects and weird job proposals. On the bottom right, a blue piece of paper caught her attention.

Art studio needs intern

You can have coffee all the day and use the studio space for your personal projects in your free time.

Applications to: newbies@zamostudio.com

Trixie chuckled at the e-mail and pulled out her phone. This wasn’t what she had in mind, but at this point there was no time for choosing. She took a quick look on the studio’s website, just to make sure it wasn’t some psychopath’s trap, then sent in her résumé. About half an hour later, she was just finishing her coffee and scrolling through instagram, her phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi! This is Tatianna, from Zamo Art Studio. Can I speak to Trixie Mattel, please?”

Whoa. That was fast.

“This is her.”

“Oh, hello, Trixie! So, you applied for the intern position, right?”

“Yes.” The blonde girl had her fingers crossed under the table.

“Are you available for an interview today?”

“Yes!” She almost screamed in excitement. “Yeah, I’m totally free after two!”

“Great! So, can you be here at three?”

“Yeah! Let me get a pen to write down the address” she reached into her bag, slightly bouncing off her seat. She wrote it on a napkin and hang up with a happy “see you later”.

“Well” she thought, “life’s giving me lemons, so let’s make lemonade.”

[ruthlessbookfish]

Have a Heart by Jodi Watters

 November 9

My Review

Have a Heart was a funny story, with some angst sprinkled in. It never got too angsty, for me. Tessa and her Ex had such a funny conversation after the whole hoopla. I also really enjoyed the way Jason struggled with his feelings. I kept waiting for them both to realize the twist!

I read an Arc

Title: Have a Heart

Series: Love Happens #4

Author: Jodi Watters

Genre: Contemporary Romance Release Date: November 9, 2018

Blurb

If he had one, she'd be the woman he'd give it to.

A runaway bride, searching for happily ever after.

A Navy SEAL, who doesn’t believe in such things.

A bar, in the middle of nowhere, and fate, who’s been awaiting this day. 

Tessa

When I left my groom at the altar, I didn’t care where I went, or who I met along the way. 

When I walked into a roadside bar in Nowhere, California, I wasn’t planning on staying.

When I sat down beside Jason Reynolds, I had no idea who he really was. 

My world turned upside down.

Now all I want to do is save him.

Jason

I tried to ignore her. The beautiful train wreck who’d crashed my pity party.   

I tried to fight temptation. Her sweet smile and smart mouth threatened my misery.

I tried to walk away. My blackened soul didn’t deserve her bright, hopeful light.

My team calls me Tin Man for good reason.

Love has no place in my life.

ADD TO GOODREADS

Purchase Links

99c for release day ONLY!!!

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt

         I’m a wisher. Always have been.

As a young girl, I’d stand before my closed bedroom door, wishing a Barbie Dream House would appear on the other side.

“No way,” my dad would sneer, a cigarette between his lips. “Not unless I hit the ponies tonight.” Despite his habit of gambling our grocery money, neither ever happened.  

As a gangly teenager, I’d stand in front of a mirror, wishing for bigger boobs and a fuller bush because I’d just seen Candace Michaels naked in the locker room after third period P.E. class. You could say I was stunted in comparison. My only solace was knowing those envious breasts would sag one day.

As a community college graduate, I stood before the liquidated store I’d just purchased thanks to a small business loan, providing employment to the two most important people in my life, wishing to God I’d always be able to pay their salaries. Theirs before mine, it turned out, on occasion. No matter. There was currency in independence.

I also wished I could twirl a baton, participate in a flash mob, and eat cake every day without gaining weight. But, as my dad always said, I could wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one filled up first.

His best and only advice.  

Through it all, I’ve stared at nineteen different sheets of paper, always questioning what I’d written, wishing many times over I was a poet. That I carried within me a grace to evoke tender emotion, along with the guts to expel the toxic ones, using nothing but a pen and the alphabet. Oftentimes I missed the mark, yet I sent the messages anyway.

Yes, I’m an old-school letter writer. A throwback to another generation. It’s not by choice, believe me. This obsession started years ago, and I only write to one person.

Him.

Lately, I’ve avoided it. There’s been nothing to say.

But now, in the middle of the night, I suddenly have plenty to say. To write.

The man lying in bed next to me gives me pause. I know he’s asleep before I turn to look, his breathing slow, but his body tense. Ready for the unexpected. A learned habit that might never leave him. There’s something precious in seeing him sleep, the weight of a nation briefly lifted. In repose, he becomes more man than machine, despite himself.

More real. More reachable.

Careful not to jostle the blankets, I slide the remote from his slack hand and turn up the volume on an informercial to cover the sound of my movements. No easy feat, given he has catlike reflexes and can hear footsteps two doors down. Smiling, my heart expands. Those are only a few of the many skills that make him straight-up cool, in and out of a uniform.

So far, so good, the light from the TV guiding me as I crawl out of bed and grab paper and pen from the dresser. Not bothering to cover myself, I stand in the same spot and write what’s in my heart, the words clambering to come out. It’s all I can do to make my cursive scroll legible. Most of my letters are like this. Born of furious inner thoughts.  

       Dear... I begin, then pause on the next looping letter.

I always write friend.

The safety of our anonymity now gone, I write his name instead, personally addressing him for the first time. He feels like two different men to me, both of whom I love, but neither of which I deserve.

       It’s odd to use your name. I might never get used to that. I might never write you another letter either. It feels wrong now, as I look at the face of a man who’s been my sounding board, my guiding light, my surprise of a lifetime. Soft with sleep, his burdens at rest, it’s a face that proves every sappy love song right. Love—and let’s be honest, a daily dose of sex—really is all you need. And pizza.

       Love, sex, and pizza. The ultimate threesome. But I digress.

       Everybody has one, you know. A love story. Even the non-believers, one of which is the man embedded within my soul. Some of the stories are good, some bad. Some of them, for the very lucky, are even great. Those are the ones that last, defying a low survival rate.  

       I’ve always wished mine—I mean, ours—to be a lovely tale that played out like a metaphoric fable, where hummingbirds sipped nectar from orange blossoms on dew-dampened spring mornings, our love growing from the softest flutter of paper-thin wings, to a steady beat so sure and strong, you could tell the time and temperature by it. What appeared outwardly fleeting could easily withstand the rigors of Mother Nature. Bring on the hurricane. We’ll wait for the rainbow.  

       Go ahead. Laugh your fine, cynical ass off. I was thirteen when I dreamt that gem up, and while you might be hero material to me and many others, you’re no fairy tale prince. God knows, I’m no princess, so I’m laughing right along with you. We’re the sorriest pair of hummingbirds ever.

       But the thing is… I don’t care how it really happened.

        Just that it did.

I continue to bleed words of love, and then regret, onto the page, desperate to say everything I need to. Confess my sins the only way I know how.

“Hey.”

The rustling of sheets interrupts me, and I quickly slide the paper into the drawer, reaching for his discarded t-shirt at the same time.

Slipping it on, I cover my nakedness and grin at the scowl that crosses his gorgeous face. Rolling to his side, his unguarded eyes beckon me.      

“C’mere.” Patting the bed, his voice is rough with sleep.

Without hesitation, I let him envelop me in his strong, capable arms.

Nuzzling my hair, he asks the question I’m prepared for. “What were you doing? It’s zero dark thirty.”

“Nothing.” Burying my face in his neck, I kiss him and fight tears, feeling far more secure than I should. The taste of his skin is achingly familiar, and I let my lips linger. The privilege, I know, is temporary. “Just shaking off a dream.”

“Mmm,” he rumbles, and it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. “A good one or bad?”

The answer is complicated.

“Both,” I finally admit, the tears falling unbidden. I hide them, and the darkness allows me my privacy. “Tighter,” I whisper, and he just seems to know, the band of his arms flexing.

My breathing is shallow, but my love is deep, and I selfishly ask for more. “Tighter. Please.”   

Screw hummingbirds and orange blossoms.  

      This is the love story—the sad, but true story—I’m meant to be in.

Also Available

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited

<img border="0" data-original-height="789" data-original-width="940" height="335" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Wu22GQ2sPRQ/W-GvwTQGWgI/AAAAAAAANgc/Xi

[fools---gold]

Never Grow Up - 2004 I am four-years-old and dreaming of being a veterinarian and an astronaut and a singer and an olympic gymnast. Yet, I am told that to become a vet and an astronaut that I would have to be extremely smart and be in school for an extensive amount of time; I am told that not many people succeed. I am told that few people attain a career as a singer; I am told that there are too many people out there who know how to sing well. I am told that I am not built to be a gymnast; I am told that activities like that put too much strain on the body. So, I smile and say, “Okay,” even though all of the dreams in which my little heart has envisaged have been crushed. Why is everyone speaking for me? Everything Has Changed - 2008 I am eight-years-old and I am feeling more independent than ever. But my life is changing faster than I can blink. I no longer wake up to see my mom’s pool of blonde locks next to mine. I no longer feel my mother’s welcoming arms or hear her benevolent voice reading out The Notebook before dinner. My father is thousands of miles away on an agonizing military deployment; this would make it deployment number three. I am with family but they feel foreign to me. I know their names and their faces; I have spent few holidays with them and family dinners are even more rare. For the first time I feel alone. Why does everyone keep asking if I am okay? Do they know? Can they not see how my hips stick out a little bit more than usual? How my once always tight jeans are now baggy? Can they not see the permanent redness in my eyes? Nevertheless, I smile and act as if nothing is wrong. Summer is over and I am now in fourth grade. A new school and a new set of friends, nothing I have not had to deal with before, right? At least now, I have a voice. Mean - 2010 I am ten-years-old and my life is a play. There is so much “pretending.” I have a new brother, mother-figure, and baby sister in my life. Everything happened so fast. I ponder the fact that my loved ones should encourage me to be myself and to not let others put me down for who I am. I do not not mean to, but how am I supposed to know better? I have been hiding it for two years now. My family continues to tell me to be myself. Would they continue encouraging me if they knew? The minute someone says something that hurts my feelings, their advice is, “Pretend it doesn’t bother you, don’t let them win. Put a smile on your face and pretend like you are not affected.” But my fight is gone. Why can’t they win? They say you cannot win every battle and what if I am fighting a battle that I do not have the energy for? When my parents are mad at me, I pretend like I am fine. Even though they say that I should always express my feelings and never hold anything in, they never mean how I am feeling towards them because as a “kid,” I am always wrong, and they, as people who are “older and wiser,” are always right. Do I dare mention the fact that they hurt my feelings or made me feel more worthless than the bullies at school? Do I tell my parents the truth, or hold it in to avoid World War III? They constantly bring up every situation in which I have lied, disrespected someone, and they will point out all my flaws. They say, “It’s just a phase. This is not who you are. We didn’t raise you to be like this.” Then where does that leave me? It leaves me in a deeper hole. People ask how I do it so well. “If I were you, I wouldn't be able to function,” they say. I’ve been told my whole life to pretend to do this, to pretend to be that. I am only certain about one thing: I like the long-haired, brown-eyed, tall, redhead girl in my class, my best friend, but I like her as more than just a best friend. Beside this, I am lost and confused. Who am I? I am only the person I pretend to be; the person that everyone else wants me to be; the person they have formed me into. Give me the opportunity to be myself and I will probably just end up even more lost. I would be searching for a person I know nothing about. Speak Now - 2015 I am fifteen and I am caught in an inner-conflict between finding my worth and feeling no self worth. In my Christian household, I will be told that I am a sinner, that I am not a “true Christian.” Since the moment we are born until the minutes leading up to death we are told that we are all special, that we are all unique and beautiful. Now it may seem as though everything written here will contradict this next statement, but that means you’ll be just as confused as I am. With all my heart, I believe that we as humans are put on this earth by a superior power. A power that is to be both feared and loved unconditionally. I believe that every human is made to be beautiful in their own way. So, why then, I must ask, does it feel like I am alone? Why does it seem as though the world is conspiring against me? Why do people's actions beg to be labeled as something other than beautiful? I wish I could answer these questions. I wish someone else could tell me the answers. But, you see, the thing is, there are no real answers. There’s this quote by a man by the name of Khaled Hosseini, a beautiful writer who talks about real problems in the real world. He says, “They say, ‘Find a purpose in life and live it.’ But sometimes it is only after you have lived that you recognize your life had a purpose, and likely one you never had in mind.” On my fingers and toes I can count off the times where I felt as though I was not useful, that I was an outcast. I can count the times where not existing would have felt better than simply breathing. Now do not be fooled, I am not here to say that I am the victim in every situation, because that is far from the truth. I have had my fair share of being tortured, but I have also done quite a bit of torturing to others myself. Everyone has their own troubles, their own mountains to climb. We all just want to live life and be happy, so why is it that so many people seem to not want that for you? I think it all started when they began telling me how “gay” I was. They called me “homo” and “lesbian” and “vagitarian.” I am at the point where I don't know what else to do. I do not care about the colloquial language I use, because in the end does saying what I am trying to say come across any different if I used a higher vocabulary? What is fixing the words going to do? They still mean the same thing and they are still words. People continuously say words are “only words” and they should not hurt you, brush them off because “sticks and stones may break your bones but names will never hurt.” Yet, is it not funny how people are expected to be moved by them? They say “words of wisdom” and “motivational quotes.” How are words supposed to be only positive? There are derogatory words for a reason. Just like there are positively impacting words, there are hurtful ones. We cannot just expect everything in life to be good because not everything in life is good. Nothing in life will ever be perfect. As much as we may try to make ourselves believe it is perfect, we will just end up disappointing ourselves. I am not going to tell you that everything will be okay because not everything will be okay. I would absolutely love to tell you that life is going to be amazing and all your dreams will come true, but then I would be lying. You see my whole life, I have always known I was different. While my older cousins were playing the annual Thanksgiving soccer game, I was yelling on the sidelines for them to pull me in to play, meanwhile all my friends were at home painting their nails and playing with their barbies. While all the kids were playing on the swings during recess, I was reading and taking my own mind to faraway places; places I didn't realize I was at until I came back into what everyone else labels “reality.” And P.S. reality is horrifying. New Romantics - July 2016 I am sixteen and am convinced that I have my life all figured out. Have you ever just sprawled out on the ground outside and looked up at the sky? Do you notice how that no matter how hard you try, you can never count the number of stars? Are you able to wrap your mind around the fact that there are more stars in the sky than there are individual grains of sand in all of the beaches in the world? I know I can’t. I’m laying here thinking about all that has happened in the past week. Let alone in the past three days. On July 20, I officially came out as lesbian to two of my older cousins, two people who are practically my brothers. I have finally accepted who I am. On July 23, I spent the night with the most amazing girl. I explored a world that I had never before been introduced to. To me, she was perfect. She had these eyes that were the most beautiful color. As she tells me, “Okay but this song is one of the best!” for the past 6 songs that we’ve listened to, her eyes fill with this shred of passion and her voice carries a poetic tone. When she’s describing this book that she loves that she thinks I’ll like, she gets this smile that you can’t help but smile back at. Her laugh was so contagious and quickly became one of my favorite sounds. I wanted to kiss her so bad that first night, but I didn’t. Ask me why I didn’t and I could come up with a million excuses. The real answer is simple honestly: just like the thought of the grains of sand and the stars in the sky, I could not fathom the thought of such an amazing person being in my life. I cannot express in words how scary yet exhilarating it is. It felt as if any second she’ll disappear and all I’ll be left with are the traces of her scent on my pillow. As we were lying there, she began to say something and then she stopped, and finally, with a little persuasion, she said what she had intended. She told me to not get too attached. In that moment, with the moonlight glowing on her skin, the curves and shadows creating nothing more than silhouette, I knew that I already had. She told me that she didn’t want to hurt me, but I thought to myself, “It’d be a beautiful tragedy.” Still, I said okay. Then she started talking about how she didn’t want to be hurt by me. But if only she knew how with every word she spoke I fell for her all over again. She said that everyone lies when they say they won’t leave. I’m here and I don’t want to go anywhere. I wish she knew. Nevertheless, I still nod my head and say, “Okay.” I could not picture being anywhere else with anyone else in that moment. All Too Well - August 2016 I was left alone, again. I thought, “There is no way that this is happening again.” I stopped hiding who I was and was comfortable in life and she left me. She said, “It’s not you, I really do like you, but I need time to find myself. I don’t want to be like this anymore.” It was then that I realized that I was not the only girl she was leading on. She had her own little band of girls who followed her around like little puppy dogs, begging for more. While I sat and contemplated all that I had thought that I did wrong, I came to the conclusion that I was not meant to be happy. Any source of happiness I had ever found was ripped from my grasp. “Maybe it’s easier this way,” I thought to myself, “women are always leaving my life.” However, in the darkest hours of the night, I would find myself asking a multitude of questions. Many of them making me feel alone and hopeless. Why is this happening? What is wrong with me? Begin Again - September 2016 It all makes sense, I now know why it never worked out with anyone else. For the first time in a long time, I feel hope. I am happy. I now know what it is like to have something that I want to show off and not be ashamed. I am no longer afraid of the night and the thoughts that came with it, for I know now that my thoughts are always on her and what an amazing person she is. She picked me up when I couldn't find a reason. She became my reason and I know that, despite my flaws and the very danger of being with me, she loves me. I am no longer afraid of what my parents may think about me liking girls. I may not know where I will end up in life, but I no longer have to pretend to be someone I am not. I am no longer ashamed of what I feel. I am no longer ashamed of all the things I had looked at as major flaws in myself. She tells me that I am beautiful and because of her, I am starting to believe it. I know for a fact that I love her and that in itself is enough for me. From here awaits a journey that I am more than eager to pursue.