I finally did it. I sat down with my laptop and wrote a Liv and Maddie story. That I actually like.

Of course, I had to make it AU because I'm weird like that, but whatever.

Okay, so maybe it's not completely AU, but it in the sense that TVLiv would never do this.

So...yeah...

I actually had at least two different ideas for a LaM story, but scraped both because they were junk and began writing this, which, surprisingly, I didn't hate.

(To be completely honest, I will probably go back and re-write one of the junk fics and post it in the near future, but whatever.)

It's just muscle, sweetheart. Muscle makes you strong.

If she was so strong the finger wouldn't be down her throat; her knees wouldn't sting from the cold bathroom tile. Her stomach wouldn't be sobbing, and her mouth wouldn't be full of the sick taste of bile and stomach acid.

She briefly remembered something she learned in third grade when a doctor or something along the lines came in for Career Day.

They were taught about vomiting and the acid in your stomach burned holes in your throat (badbadbad), but she couldn't help it, because what's a few holes when the emptiness makes you feel so good?

Standing on shaky legs, she flushed her sins and brushed it's memory out of her mouth, fighting the bile with minty freshness until the taste was completely scraped from her taste buds and didn't linger on the roof her mouth.

She tossed her hair, smiling her best superstar beam into the mirror.

"You're Liv Rooney, and you are fabulous."

:

Hollywood was a pretty place, with pretty lights and pretty things, so shiny and new and addicting, like your emotion you never want to wear off from running through your veins.

But every pretty thing had to spoiled by something ugly, and shiny, addicting Hollywood was no different.

Ugly was everywhere.

Ugly people, ugly urges, ugly actions, ugly words.

All so ugly, how did she not get lost in it?

Maybe Liv would be more phased by all the pretty-looking ugly if she wasn't like them to.

They shuffled down the red carpet, lights flashing and paparazzi calling, beckoning for that one perfect shot.

(Never for the perfect use, and she laughed at how she was so slow to learn this. Stupid little girl she was. Just like the rest.)

Smiles and poses for the tiny little cameras that made or broke your very status. All glimmering and slick in diamonds and suits, they looked like plastic dolls, invisible tugs controlling them for playtime.

Liv shuffled her way through, decked in pearly whites and the perfect dose of fake pretty no one noticed the ugly.

No one except her, just as the world wanted it to be.

"Oh, oh! Liv Rooney! Smile this way."

She posed, hands on hips and she puckered her face in to her signature pout and teased the camera. (Teased because her flawless cover would not fall off tonight, and for once, she got a sense of victory. It was so so sweet.)

For a little while, she played dress up and dolls with all the others, hugging the other fakes and kissing the other dolls because that's what dolls do. They play their part until they were put back in their pretty little boxes, until the next play time.

It was all so neat and clean, like clockwork.

Too bad clockwork had to be so damaging.

:

At night, when the stars craved jealousy and the night mocked them, Liv smile at her working aunt in her office, slip into her night routine - gagflushcleansmile - and talk to her other half, the one that would never experience the cruelty of play time and all the ugly things because the world only needed one waste of space between every two people, and the fates were fond of her more.

"They broadcasted the premiere on MTV," Maddie reported, and was smiling because life on the other end deserved real smiles and real happiness because only one place had to truly be messy and plastic and imaginary.

To house all the unfixable things.

Liv smiled and spoke words that felt like knives against her battered throat, so sweet and sugary that her teeth ached as she spoke.

Maddie could bob along and chatter back without expecting a thing.

That night Liv didn't sleep, but envied how she was the one who went to bed with the anchor of a ill-stained mouth and bubbling stomach and layers of fat and waste covering her whole, while the girl with same looks but actually real slept like a naive baby on the other side of the world.

How she would kill to to live in the real world again.

:

Flesh and bones with unnatural parts and extended strands, they laugh and speak and sing and giggle in the voices of Barbies.

And she had a front row seat of it all, playing her part as they coast down the paved highway with the big, bright sun burning at their flesh so hotly the heat turned them numb and obviously.

They traveled off to the sets, the real play pins and dollies and misfit toys that dress and talk and laugh and live in another person's shoes, riding their way to land of make belief.

And she hates every moment of it.

:

Liv read the bull of magazines and scanned the false views with her own eyes and heard the utter crap spoken through glittering white teeth - because someone pulled their strings and it was their cue to say their lines - with her own ears, and spoken the lying language itself with a fluent tongue.

She predicted they could hear every bitterly formed word.

And loved every second of it.

:

When she fled the land of glitter and ugly, she remembered the way Hollywood grabbed in its jaws and chewed her thoroughly with its diamond-shaped teeth over and over again, until it decided to spit her back into the world of the real people, with their emotions and passions and loves and interests.

Because she

would be

the fakest

of

them

all

And the world likes it that way.

So, yeah.

I don't know what this is, but I don't think it will be my last one of these kinds.

I kinda liked it, writing like that.

But it also scared me.

What did you think?