King David: *plays a regular, non-secret chord*

The Lord:

Immediately heard this, a la the beginning of Notting Hill.

Liz!

Shipwrecked:  Sneak Peek

Ok, let’s try this again.  Tumblr, loosen your panties a little, this is hardly porn.

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Oooooo so intriguing!!! Can't wait!

Okaaaay

songfic day 21: check yes juliet

Betty’s window: a history.

(Inspired by “Check Yes Juliet” by We The Kings.)

…

They’re ten.

He still rides his bike through the dark streets of Riverdale every Saturday, when his father’s had too much to drink, and his mother’s too preoccupied with Jellybean to look after him properly. Some nights, he knocks on the door of the Andrews home, where Fred and Mary have already stockpiled his favourite snacks, and Archie is bouncing up and down in excitement because having Jughead over means he could stay up late playing video games.

Other nights, he grabs the ladder that he knows the Coopers always leave out, props it up against the wall below Betty’s window, and climbs up, where she is waiting with a plate of cookies, a glass of milk, and a pile of Goosebumps books that they stay up reading while sitting back to back.

“You know you can always just talk to my mom, right?” she says. “You don’t have to climb in through the window all the time.”

“Are you kidding?” he replies, his mouth full of cookies. “No way. Your mom’s, like, the scariest person in Riverdale.

They giggle because it’s true, and she passes him another cookie.

Jughead doesn’t add that he happens to like it this way: that he and Betty can share something apart from their friendship with Archie, something secret, and that – as far as he knows – although Archie is certainly welcome through the front door, he’s the only one who gets in through the window.

…

They’re thirteen.

His father’s having a really bad night, and although Archie has the new Tekken game, something in him wants cookies and quiet company over button mashing and yelling at the TV. So he makes his way over to Betty’s window.

But something’s not right. Betty’s pink curtains are half-closed, and Alice Cooper is peeking out from the side, glaring out into the dark.

She knows.

His stomach sinks. He hides himself in the bushes and crawls back over to the Andrews home.

They never recover those quiet hours reading together in her room. But every Monday morning for the rest of that year, she passes him a small parcel of cookies.

Just in case.

…

They’re sixteen.

It wasn’t something he’d planned. How does one even plan falling, forward movement, unstoppable motion? He’s a goner the moment she slides open her window, so much so that he calls her Juliet, and it’s a corny joke, but she smiles anyway, and lets him in.

He doesn’t know that he means to kiss her until the last possible moment, when he feels himself hurtling towards her lips and is startled by their shape beneath his own – how well they fit together, how strange and wonderful she tastes on his tongue.

They stop, but only when they get to a break in the case. She says, to be continued, and although he should be thinking about finding that damned car, he is fixated on that kiss, and how he is to get the next one.

…

They’re seventeen.

He lives here now, with his family. And so it is she who does the climbing this time – up the ladder, into the room.

And on top of him.

He takes to sleeping naked because there is no preamble, no pretense needed in these midnights when she craves his body, just as he craves hers. He throws off the sheets the minute he hears the window opening, and though he has no words for the shape of her body crawling towards him in the moonlight, he memorises it. He could probably sketch it, if he had to.

She knows every creak in the room, and so when she beckons him into the bathroom, he knows they’ll be loud. She turns the water on, full steam, as he fucks her against the shower door, watching her flesh writhe and press against the glass, sticking a finger into her mouth for her to suck on and stifle her moans.

It is these nights that he lives for - when they are wet and spent on the bed, when she is too tired to climb back out.

That way, he gets to hold her until dawn.

…

They’re twenty-one.

The house is being sold. He’d never really changed anything before leaving for college, so she’s packing up her stuff to move back to their apartment in New York.

There is a box full of her mementoes that he had entrusted to Jellybean; he tells Betty that it’s on the top shelf of the closet. She’s sentimental, so he knows that she’s about to go through it item by item: old pictures, report cards, notes he’d written to her in class.

That’s exactly why he left it all the way at the bottom: the small, black velvet box he bought more than a year ago and left with his sister for safekeeping. Was there anywhere better than here to ask the question? Where it all began, and where another chapter will begin again?

When she gets to it, she gasps, and turns. He’s already on one knee.

“Say yes, Juliet.”

It’s back up! Apologies, friends.

You're killing me. But I like it...

songfic day 20: “may waltz”

In a society full of rules and expectations, two outcasts find their way towards each other… in a dance.

A Regency era Bughead AU, inspired by the social satire of Jane Austen.

(Inspired by Brooke Fraser’s “May Waltz”. Hopefully something to tide you over while Ao3 takes some scheduled down time!)

…

The general pleasure that accompanied the news that the Weatherbees – a distinguished family with an estate of eight thousand a year, but unfortunately without an heir – had taken a ward soon dissolved as rumours of the young man’s dubious origins persisted throughout town. Forsythe Jones, whose figure was otherwise handsome, youthful and pleasing, was a mystery in the sense that he was not entirely knowable, and thus, he was suspicious to all. All that was truly certain of his character was that he was no more than two and twenty: his parentage was keep a secret by his guardians, and his chief occupation (“A writer,” hissed Mrs. McCoy across the church aisle on Sunday morning) drew mistrust amongst the small-minded, limited folk of Riverdale.

Still, small-minded though they were, they were not entirely uncivil, and when the Lodges – the wealthiest family in town – prepared to throw a ball in their residence, an invitation was belatedly, but courteously, extended to Forsythe. One envelope arrived at the Weatherbee estate a full week before the event, addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Weatherbee. A few days later, another arrived, this time addressed to Mr. Jones.

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Upon my word Liz, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?! I am ruined (much like Lord Halverston's reputation) the only thing that will satisfy me now is a full length Recency Bughead fic... please 🙏

songfic day 19: “notre vocabulaire à nous”

(Inspired by Tears For Fears’ “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”)

Glimpses and vignettes from Paris.

A thematic continuation of “the vocabulary of us”.

Huge thanks to @jandjsalmon and @melimelrockswell1204 for looking over this for me, and to @littlemie and everyone who helped out with the French title!

…

“Now, they’ve returned: a year and a half later, a little more battle-worn, and yet a little more in love with each other. He nudges her awake when they arrive at the hotel and half-carries her up to their room while she yawns and wriggles closer to his body for warmth. She manages to stay awake long enough to brush her teeth and stumble into pajamas, and immediately crashes into bed.

He’s a little more buzzed and awake, so he steps out onto the balcony and lights a cigarette. All of Paris is before him, but he still can’t resist one more quick glance at her. For what is the City of Lights but a mere flicker to the light he wakes up to every morning?”

read on ao3

Liz does it again. I am both alive and dead.

(If you haven't read 'The vocabulary of us' click that link ^^^ and then go to the very beginning!! You will not regret it.)

Zendaya on whether ignorance is truly bliss

Wilful ignorance is, I think, actually unforgivable. And it's kinda why this world is so fucked up right now...

Oh god I'm 😭😭😭 already... I just don't think I'm ever going to be ready for this.

Q: You’re going up a short flight of stairs: is it necessary to hold on to your significant other?

A: YES BY ALL MEANS, HOLD HER BY THE WAIST, POSSESSIVELY.

He's such a boy, look at him skipping that step! 😂

30-day songfic challenge

Hello, lovely people! You may or may not have heard of the 30-day Song Challenge on Twitter that looks like this:

Basically what happens is that people post a song per day on their accounts and engage with others doing the same challenge.

Being a little rusty at writing, I thought I’d make this a personal writing challenge for myself this coming month. I will be posting a drabble per day based on the song I’ve chosen, on pairings or ships of my choice (but mostly Bughead and SH).

If you are a writer who would like to participate, I’d love for you to join in! Please tag me in the comments, send me your work, or use the tag “songfic writing challenge 2019” (so I can find your work easily and enjoy reading it!).

Master list:

Day 1: “Purple Rain” by Prince (BH)

Day 2: “4ever” by The Veronicas (BH)

Day 3: “Dancing In The Moonlight” by Toploader (SH)

Day 4: “Poker Face” by Lady Gaga (SH)

Day 5: “Love In This Club” by Usher (BH)

Day 6: “Sorry” by Beyoncé (BH)

Day 7: “Planes” by Moira and Neiman (BH)

Day 8: “Gin and Juice” by Snoop Dogg and Daz Dillinger (BH)

Day 9: “Lover” by Taylor Swift (SH)

Day 10: “Everytime We Say Goodbye” by Ray Charles and Betty Carter (BH)

Day 11: “Super Rich Kids” by Frank Ocean (BH)

Day 12: “to feel the hurt” inspired by “Give It To You” by Jordan Knight (BH)

Day 13: “Witches’ Song” by Marianne Faithfull (BH)

Day 14: “The Book of Love” by Peter Gabriel (BH)

Day 15: “Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You” as covered by Lauryn Hill (BH)

Day 16: “Careless Whisper” by George Michael (SH)

Day 17: “A Whole New World” from the Aladdin OST (BH)

Day 18: “World Spins Madly On” by the Weepies (Joavin) - mistook this prompt for Day 19, sorry!

Because I'm sooo behind reading these!!!

Songfic Day 9: Home

Day 9: A song that makes you happy: Home - Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros

Betty and Jughead have been together for 5 years and have been through everything together: Serial Killer Dad’s, Drug Queen Moms, Gang Life, Surviving all things Riverdale.. 

Now that they are finally free, Jughead is starting to think about their future together and where they will go from here and he has an important question to ask Betty first. He has everything perfectly planned, but on his birthday all those plans go right out the window.

*****

As Jughead watched Betty dance around their kitchen, making cupcakes for his impending birthday party that night, he smiled. He still couldn’t believe they were finally here: living their best lives in New York City, both of them just a semester away from being Juniors in college, and safely away from the evils of the deceptively sleepy town of Riverdale. Honestly, with all they’d suffered over the years, he never thought they’d make it out of that place alive. But they did and here they are: happy, safe, and (most importantly) together.

After they finally graduated, they’d packed their bags and, along with Archie and Veronica, all moved into an apartment building that Veronica inherited at 18 as part of her trust after her parents went to prison. She has become a very wealthy woman thanks to the protection that her trust fund insured.

The four of them shared the penthouse floor, the only two apartments on the entire floor, and it was magnificent. It felt like a dream to Jughead for a long time, having gone from living in the projection booth of a rundown drive-in as a high school sophomore to now living in a luxury penthouse apartment in the city as a sophomore in college. 

Things had been perfect for them, all four of their lives having changed drastically for the better. Archie had gotten a record deal after two years of playing dive bars almost every night and was in the middle of recording his debut album. He and Veronica were already planning their wedding for the following spring before he starts his first major tour of the east coast.

Veronica seemed to be the busiest of the four of them. She had opened a string of boutiques that housed her very own fashion line, simultaneously going to school for a double major in business and fashion as well as planning a high profile wedding without a wedding planner.

She’d even made the time to set up her very own charity that helped underprivileged kids who were at risk of being pulled into gang life with the ability to go to college on a full scholarship. She dedicated it to Jughead, whom she had grown close to when she’d helped him financially to escape Riverdale and the stresses of gang life. He had been the first recipient of the scholarship and Veronica even called it the Pendleton Lodge Scholarship Fund in honor of him.

Even Jughead’s life had never been this amazing. His manuscript had been picked up by a publisher and was just awaiting the final draft before printing could commence. He was going to school and working as an online freelance writer so that he could work from home and relax while still managing to keep the house cleaned so that Betty wouldn’t have to worry about it.

And finally, last but certainly not least in Jughead’s eyes was Betty. He was so damned proud of his girl, she had overcome so much since leaving Riverdale. Betty had finally broken free of her family’s past and shattered the perfect princess image she had been forced into. She was liberated and almost bohemian in her style of dress: flowy skirts, tunics and tanks, dresses the hugged her body will still being fluid, and she’d grown her hair out and never wore it up anymore. 

Even with the change in her style, and no longer being a pastel princess, they were still a strange sight to be seen. Jughead had maintained his rough and ragged biker gang leader aesthetic while Betty looked like the modern day personification of Persephone: like she should be running through the forest barefoot while whispering to flowers and singing like a goddess she was while the animals flocked to her. 

He had always loved everything about Betty, even all her broken parts, but seeing how carefree she’d become made his cynical neurotic heart burst with joy. He thanked the stars above that he got to live this life with her and he would do anything and everything to make her happy, even if it took him forever to do it. 

Truthfully, Jughead had already decided what he wanted to do and how to do it, even had everything planned out to make it as special as possible for her. But something in the way she moved, so happy and carefree to the music playing through their sound system threw all his plans out the window. If there ever was a perfect moment, it was now. Even if she were covered in flour and her hair was a mess, this moment was perfect.

She hadn’t noticed he was awake yet and she continued to sing and dance. “Ah, home, let me go home, home is wherever I’m with you,” Jughead patted the small velvet box he’d placed in his pocket and grinned. He cleared his throat and watched her jump, spinning around to face him with her hands clutching a spatula to her chest. 

“Christ Juggie, you can’t scare me like that when I have a deadly weapon in my hands,” Betty giggled, waving the spatula in his face. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled, “Happy birthday baby.” Betty kissed him as he hummed his thanks against her lips. 

Jughead pulled back, brushing her hair from her shoulder so he could kiss her bare skin. “Thanks Betts. You didn’t have to do all of this, you know. I would have been fine with it just being us for my birthday.”

“I know that Jug, but you never would tell me what you wanted for your birthday so I had to do something to show you how much you mean to me,” She shrugged and kids the tip of his nose before turning back to check on her cupcakes. Jughead knew that she would be distracted for a minute so now was his chance.

“Actually Betts, I think I know what I want for my birthday,” Jughead said, pulling out the antique opal ring he’d been carrying around for two months and dropping to his knees quietly without her noticing. 

“Finally! Ok Juggie, so what do you want?” Betty turned, gasping and dropping the spatula to the floor as tears flooded her eyes. Her hand trembled as she covered the elated smile on her face.

“You.”

Kill me. I'm dead.

He looks so good in blue...like his eyes 😘

Stripes and Cole are a perfect match.

YES. 💯💥💯

This is poetry

Fuck. Yes.

That photo should be their Christmas card.

This post is the definition of YES!

In honor of PFW x SH, here are all the photos I took of my SH cutouts which I brought with me to Paris and Giverny last year 😆 which ones are your fave?

I can't choose!! I mean pink coat Lili is my fave (obvs!) soooooo, I think it has to be the one in front of the concession in the Jardin de Luxembourg ❤❤❤❤❤❤