Pocket Princesses returns this Friday!!
To celebrate, here is the special group portrait made just for Comicon!
Please note that this, or any of the other PPs, are not available as prints nor will they be put on merchandise, unless officially sanctioned and produced by the Walt Disney Company.
Robin’s Style: Shoes (which I hate)
Normally, I wear black boots. But Charlie stole my style, so I switched.
These make noise when I walk. It’s like my toes make music. Which they should.
These make my feet look like presents - which they in fact, are.
I’m 5’11” in these. Try not to notice that I’m clumsy.
Beauty is neither a size nor a shape. It has no color, wears no style. Beauty knows no limits, nor shies from obstacles. Beauty is not perfect, and needs no adornment to shine. Beauty cannot be bottled, is immune to marketing, and makes its appearance known, even when damaged by others’ lies and stupidity. Beauty does not need your approval or acceptance.
Beauty simply … is. And it rocks, whether you notice it or not.
Book 2 of The Stream comes out this week! Read it, or Charlie will totally haunt your dreams. He can make you dream you’re a potato if he wants to.
Seriously. I’ve seen him do it.
Oh, it’s called Awakening. Here’s the cover. That’s Dimple Boy trying not to grin behind that stupid rusty sword.
I don’t get why I couldn’t be on the cover. I’m cuter.
Almost none of the women at the attached link looks better with make-up. They just look different.
I’m just sayin’.
One of the scenes from Emprise. This place was so NOT cool. Charlie’s mom does NOT like dark places.
Charley Patterson and the Chamber of Secrets
They squeezed through the crevice and crawled hand-over-hand through a narrow, tubular tunnel. The cave smelled of mold, and water could be heard in the distance. Charlotte was the last to enter the tunnel. She did not like tight spaces. In fact, the only thing she liked less than tight spaces was having people know that she was afraid of tight spaces. So it was unsurprising that she found herself bumping into Gloria’s backside with her head.
“Slow your roll, hermana,” Gloria whispered. “The kids are trying to find a light or something.
A light would be good, except I can’t seem to open my eyes, so I’m not sure how it will help.
Charlotte’s breathing came in shallow spurts, and for a time she was concerned she would pass out before she had the chance to suffocate properly. As she resumed blindly groping through the tunnel, her face was brushed by an onrush of cool, fresh air.
“You can unclench your eyes now, Mom,” her unsubtle son remarked.
Charlotte obliged, silently removing him from her will. They had reached a large shaft with a cathedral ceiling fifty feet high. The cave was illuminated by an eerie olive light that tinted the twin waterfalls streaming in from the rock surface above. As Charlotte’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, she scanned her small group, her eyes stopping at Reyna. It was she who was emanating the light, seemingly from within her. Robin and Charlie had each fitted themselves with cavers’ lights on their heads, and were handing them to the rest of the party. The lights were bright, but with narrow beams that lit only small portions of the cave. The resulting display was of an olive green cave punctuated by shifting bands of white light.
They’ve made those just by thinking of them.
“Here, Mama,” Robin said, handing a light to Charlotte. It was an ordinary-looking circular lamp attached to a strap that wrapped around her head. Robin’s was identical, except for the fact that her light glowed yellow, and was in the shape of a duck.
Seeing Charlotte staring at her, Robin smiled and adjusted her duck light. “Got any … grapes?” she asked, and rejoined the group.
I am going to have some crazy-ass grandchildren.
There is no such thing as a good Klown, really. The supposedly innocent ones are imitation mimes, and nobody likes a mime. Always pushing on walls nobody can see. Sheesh.
I’d say the only good klown is a dead klown, but the dead ones are even worse.
Klowns hate kittens. I’m just sayin’
Charlie Patterson & Robin LeBeaux. Well, our shoes anyway.