#my attempt at bridgets cupcakes

[tiredflowercrown]

Couldn't find feathers that would get here in time, hope Hearts work for yall

[bobbydagen24]

comparing the writing in the first film overall with the writing of the Third so people can Hopefully see what my problem is with TBT.

first off lets start with the two films big emotional music numbers that are meant to showcase meaningful character Growth that being "" True Colours ""

and "" Better Place "" now the main Difference between these two is that despite what some negative reviews of the first film said at the time Branch's character Arc wasn't literally just wrapped up in this one song like Bro zone's was in TBT.

True Colours was the climax to Branch's arc but it wasn't literally the only piece of Branch's arc throughout the film we had small hints under his uncaring exterior that he was actually a good guy who just wasn't good at showing it.

like the fact he saved Poppy from those spiders and when he tried to help her come to terms with Creek's supposed death even if his way wasn't 100 percent perfect.

and of course after finally opening up about his grandmother he showed more signs of trying to change for the better helping Bridget by giving her his love poem to say to Gristle Jr.

afterwards attempting to join in on the Snack Pack's happy screaming over Creek still being alive and even pulling a little High five Joke on Poppy showing clear effort of attempts to change beforehand.

he also attempted to comfort Poppy and the others when they opened the locket and Creek was gone and they assumed he was dead and all this leading to True Colours which was the big moment for his Arc.

Bro zone didn't have any of this before hand instead all their moments prior to Better Place are either them being Jerky or its mostly comedic gags with not real flashes of posotive character moments for them that could help with their Arc.

anyway back to True Colours despite technically getting what he said he wanted at the start of the film ( that being for the other pop Trolls to finally stop seeing the world as all cupcakes and Rainbows and finally see the Dark sides of things )

he was actually disheartened to see them all this way and worked to help them get out of this state which he was all too familiar with.

anyway one thing that makes True Colours work better than Better Place imo is

1. Branch still has agency in the choice their all about to die and well his choice to try and lift up the other people's spirits doesn't effect that at all.

I find it very powerful how he still chooses to be happy in that moment and tries to lift the spirits of everyone around him despite the fact that for all he knows his worst fear is about to come true their all about to be eaten by Bergens aka the very thing he's spent most of his life terrified of.

but with Better Place his Bros don't have agency so it isn't a meaningful character moment their literally imprisoned and forced to take part in the Harmony in order to save their own lives its not even just about Floyd anymore.

its sorta like if Branch only sang True Colours to lift everyone's spirits because he needed them to all have access to their longer Hair Powers so they could lift the lid on top of the cooking pot in order for them to escape.

kinda lessens the impact of the scene a bit doesn't it? 🤔🤔🤔🤔

and as I said before True Colours would be a cute scene on its own but if it was literally the only scene that was meant to show Branch's character Arc and growth then yeah it would still fall flat imo but it isn't because the movie made sure to have lots of other little moments.

showing Branch making the effort beforehand so True Colours was just the final result and not literally the only action taken in his Arc.

unlike Better Place where

1. the Bros Agency was taken away so they literally did the Harmony for selfish reasons and

2. it was the only moment meant to show their character Growth which just isn't how character Arcs work.

you don't get to have characters showcase a whole bunch of flaws and frankly crappy behaviour and then have their Arc be wrapped up with a single action that isn't even all that noble no character Arc works that way.

the writing of the first film understood this and did a Fair amount of it Right but TBT didn't understand this at all.

I'm not an Expert writer but this is all fairly Basic stuff.

[captainunderkrupp]

Ok @kiingcorobo ’s headcanons about Hickory and food are adorable and sad and reminded me of this unfinished ficlet thing sitting in my drafts

Off in the distance, a table full of sweets was sitting. Hickory bit his lip, trying to hold back a squeal of excitement, unable to keep the grin off his face.

Dickory rolled his eyes. "Go nuts," he said, walking away. Hickory bolted.

When he got to the table, Branch and Poppy were standing there, seemingly discussing whether the chocolate or white chocolate covered strawberries were better. Poppy seemed like she could be on either side of the issue, but Branch seemed to be arguing for chocolate because it was... nutritious? That couldn't be right; Hickory must be hearing things.

He nabbed a chocolate chip muffin from between them, trying to act casual about it instead of grabbing a plate and piling it as high as he could. "Howdy," he greeted them.

Poppy brightened immediately. "Hickory!" she cheered, nearly throwing her plate in hugging him. Branch just nodded at him, and put a chocolate covered pretzel on his plate. Oh, Hickory was going to have to try that.

Hickory decided to attempt small talk. "So, this is the dessert table?"

Poppy kind of stared at him. "Sort of...? It's all kind of one table," she explained, as if she wasn't sure she should, gesturing at the ridiculously long table set up. Well, a very large tablecloth was creating the illusion of the longest table ever, anyway.

"Just assume that's a yes," Branch added, adding even more chocolate to his plate. The guy certainly liked his chocolate. "It's all food."

Hickory decided to let it go. He was just trying to make conversation anyway. "So, what do y'all recommend? I've really only had the gumdrops and this scrumptious muffin," he gestured at the nearly devoured item in his hand.

Poppy giggled. "Try the cupcakes!" she recommended, pointing farther down the table. "Ooh, and if you liked the gumdrops, maybe the gummies. Careful with the sour!" Looking around for other sweets to recommend, she squealed. "Ooh, looks like someone made dirt cake! That would be perfect!"

"Dirt cake?" he asked, confused. Poppy suddenly produced a plateful of what genuinely looked like dirt and worms, but smelled like fruit and chocolate.

"This!" she said, passing it to him. He stared at it; it didn't look too appetizing, but it smelled delicious anyway. He supposed he should try it.

Branch suddenly raised an eyebrow at him. "Wait, you haven't tried any sweets except the gumdrops?"

Hickory flushed. "Well, no. I've tried chocolate, and... such. But I never had gumdrops or... cupcakes before. And some of the combinations you guys have here seem real interesting!" he added, gesturing toward the dipped and decorated pretzels he'd noticed earlier. In the same motion, he snatched up a few covered in sprinkles and caramel.

"Well, I guess we ought to introduce you to them all!" Poppy declared, and Hickory couldn't hold back his grin at all. His favorite people besides his brother, helping him try out sweets? Sounded like a dream.

Then someone screamed.

He spun around, reaching for rope he knew wasn't there. He scanned the crowd, searching for the screamer and Dickory at the same time. Dickory must have been doing the same, because the brothers suddenly made eye contact and Dickory ran over.

More screams were spreading, within a split second of the first, like something was spreading, or rampaging through the crowd. Hickory and Dickory got into battle positions they'd practiced, and used, thousands of times. Out of the corner of his eye, Hickory saw Branch and Poppy also in position, searching for the threat, though in different forms.

Then the screaming crowd started to disperse enough to see... Prince D? He was standing in the middle of the clearing they'd chosen for the buffet, looking confused and holding some tupperware.

"What?" he asked, clearly baffled by the screaming.

Cooper walked up, looking nervously at the tupperware. "Bro, why are you bringing poison to the party?" he asked.

Prince D only looked more confused. "It's green beans, I thought it would make a nice side. The invite said it was potluck."

Branch suddenly rolled forward in a professional looking tumble, standing up to inspect the vegetables. He looked hesitant to actually lean in and smell them, let alone taste them, but he still took a good look at it. "These look like the thing that Bridget is growing on her balcony, but... smaller."

Poppy walked forward to get a glimpse as well. "It looks like a lot of the poisonous plants around here, but it smells a little better. Not great, but better." When Prince D looked vaguely offended, she quickly assured him, "Sorry, I don't mean to offend any work you put into it, but it does still smell a bit like someone cooked poison."

After a moment, Prince D shrugged it off. "That's fine. I don't expect anyone to eat it if they really don't want to, or if they can't." He took a moment to glance back down at the tupperware. "Why poison, though? It's just regular green beans."

Branch shrugged. "Lots of plants around here aren't edible. And there's a wide variety of them. Not so fortunate for us, but we make do." He gestured at the table. "I can help you make a label for it if you like."

Cooper grinned. "Yeah! Like, kind of a warning, explanation thing?"

Prince D smiled right back. "Eh, sure, that works."

Hickory stared as they walked over to the far end of the table, where there was surprisingly less main courses than he expected, and popped one of the gummy worms into his mouth. It was like eating thick, fruit flavored spaghetti, especially with chocolate slathered over half of it. It tasted quite nice.

He was still staring at the table, trying to figure out what was bugging him, when Branch and Poppy walked back over.

"Well, glad it wasn't too big of a deal," Branch said, wiping his hands together before picking his plate back up and refilling it with food. He carefully picked up the dumped items with the tip of his hair and threw them in one of the nearby trashcans.

Their impressive hair was another thing Hickory wanted to ask them about, but that was later. He was still considering the table.

"Hey, Hickory, have you had apple pie? Biggie has a really good recipe!" Poppy held a plate with a slice of apple pie a la mode out to Hickory.

That was it. "Why are there so few main courses?" he asked, gesturing toward the beginning of the table with his fork.

Poppy blinked, as if her train of thought had been interrupted. "What are you talking about? There are plenty of main courses."

Hickory shook his head. "A funk buffet would have a couple meat dishes, a few vegetable sides, plenty of snacks and chips before the dessert table. Maybe even drinks in between. Your tables go almost directly from some fruit platters and a couple casseroles to the desserts." A country troll trotted up and set a plate of burgers in the middle of the table, alongside a plate of buns. "Correction. One meat dish."

Poppy looked like she was about to faint. "Wait. You eat those?!" she cried, pointing at the burgers.

Branch also looked uncomfortable. "I... don't like the idea of eating something that was bigger than me when it was alive," he said.

Hickory was confused again. "Wait, did you not realize what the burgers were being made for? And... you know what, I have too many questions for this. What is your guys' regular diet?"

Branch stared at him. "Uh."

"You don't need to explain it in detail, just give me a couple ideas so I have an actual jumping off point for my questions."

"Lots of fruit!" Poppy interjected. "Maybe some bugs for protein. And plenty of sugar!"

"Chocolate, apples, berries, grubs are my go-to," Branch listed off, "Pie is difficult, but nice, and oatmeal is pretty easy."

"Muffins are breakfast food, cupcakes are lunch or dinner, if you care about that kind of thing."

"I've found some good roots for teas and stews. I swear I'm forgetting something..."

"I tried blueberries once, but it turns out I'm allergic. I still love strawberries though."

"Gelatin is good for preserving things. And sometimes thickened for gummies like what you're eating."

"Honestly I think the casseroles were brought by some of the funk trolls. Or a rock troll? I'm not sure."

Hickory regretted asking. That was a lot of details to process at once. "Ok, ok, I think I get it. Lots of sweets and sugar and fruit, some protein, not many vegetables."

"Uh, define vegetables," Branch said, "Because I was at a rock party and I heard some people arguing whether a tomato was one, and I don't get that."

Hickory frowned. "Have you... never heard of a tomato?"

Poppy squinted. "You can make sauce out of it, right? That's what was on the Bergen's pizza?"

"Oh, fish!" Branch shouted. "Fish is pretty good, though I don't catch it often."

"What in the world reminded you of that?"

"Remember how Bridget's favorite pizza is mayo and anchovies?"

"Eeeehh, right. I still don't get that, do anchovies taste better than they smell?"

"You've never had fish?"

"I don't think so..."

He looked between the two as they spoke, jaw dropped. After a second, he finally gathered himself and decided to interrupt the rapid fire food discussion. "Ok, you guys have a weird definition of food," he muttered to himself. Louder, he said, "I think some trolls are waiting."

Branch and Poppy stopped to look behind them, and Poppy chuckled nervously when they both saw a long line of people, some waiting patiently, and some looking like they wanted to wallop the three trolls holding up the buffet. Branch gave an awkward smile and wave and started shoving both his friends away from the table.

[searchingwardrobes]

I’ve Just Seen a Face

Happy Birthday, @xemmaloveskillianx ! It was a pleasure to get to know you a little bit during the big bang, and your story Beastly was one of my faves. I hope you have a lovely day. Here’s a fluffy meet-cute as a gift. Kind of like a fanfic cupcake, or more aptly in this case, a fanfic birthday bear claw.

Based on the song by the Beatles as well as a prompt on AuthorZoo.com’s post “How to Craft a Killer Meet Cute.”

Rating: G

Trigger: none unless you count the high sugar content, literal and of the fluffy variety

Words: almost 3,000

Also on Ao3 and part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @kday426 @teamhook@bethacaciakay @thislassishooked @tiganasummertree @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @let-it-raines @distant-rose @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @shireness-says@optomisticgirl 

I’ve just seen a face. I can’t forget the time or place where we just met. She’s just the girl for me, and I want all the world to see we’ve met.

It was Killian’s job every Friday to get the donuts. It wasn’t because he was so low on the business ladder; the name of the company was Jones Brothers Shipping, after all. It wasn’t because he was the little brother of said Jones brothers, either. It’s just that he liked donuts, he liked the way Tink and Ariel smiled when he brought them in, he liked the way his brother stopped stressing for once to have coffee and a chat, and so. . . yeah, he bought the donuts.

He also, unlike his brother, pays attention to details. It’s why they make such a great team (in addition to being siblings which means they can fight viciously and still be okay at the end of the day): Liam is the big picture guy and Killian is the details guy. Therefore, he knows that Ariel likes jelly donuts, Tink likes strawberry frosted (with sprinkles), and his brother likes bear claws. Will, Robin, and Eric like cake donuts for some bizarre reason, and Killian just likes classic glazed, thank you very much.

On this particular Friday, it’s raining and there’s a bad accident on I-93, and it took Killian at least ten minutes of crawling around in the back seat to find his umbrella, so he’s wet and cross and running late when he dashes into the bakery. Tink says he’s part owner and therefore, can’t be late, but he and Liam are former navy and well, schedules and all of that.

Normally, he would chat with Bridget who’s always working the register (Ariel would say flirt), and give a polite hello to those around him, but his day is already going poorly, so he’s laser focused on his order and nothing else.

“You got here just in time,” Bridget comments as she rings him up, “there was only one bear claw left.”

Later, he’ll say its fate, but in that moment he barely notices the comment. He simply snatches up the box of donuts and bravely makes his way back out into the heavy downpour, struggling to keep a hold of the box of donuts while simultaneously opening his umbrella. Not an easy task for anyone, but even more so for him, missing his left hand. Another result of those former navy days.

So he isn’t exactly in the best mood initially when he meets her, rude and sharp “Hey! Hey, you!” coming angrily from her lips. He groans at her words and is ready with a sharp retort before he even turns around.

But see, he turned around. He turned around, and he saw her, and that pretty much stopped his ability to speak. She either has no umbrella or has had an even worse morning than he has because she's standing there getting soaked in the pouring rain. Most women would have rivulets of mascara running down their faces, but she doesn’t, and he wonders if her clear lack of eye makeup is indicative of how her morning has gone or her personality. He also wonders if her skin is always so fair, her lips that pink, or if she’s chilled from the rain.

But mostly he thinks how incredibly, unfairly beautiful she is. No one has the right to be that gorgeous standing in the pouring rain, but she is. Her golden hair is flattened to her head, yet it does nothing to detract from its brightness. The rain drops glisten on her eyelashes, making her jade eyes sparkle like gems. He could stare at that face all day, but his eyes can’t help tracing the rivulets of water running over her collarbone and noting the figure she cuts in the white blouse now plastered to her skin from the rain. Over it she’s wearing a red leather jacket, not the most practical thing to wear in the rain, but it makes her look like some sort of heroine from a comic book, especially the way her hands are perched on her hips. The intense, feisty look on her face completes the picture, and he can’t help the half grin that tilts his lips.

“Aye, love?”

She rolls her eyes, something that he’s never considered arousing until now.

“I’m not hitting on you, idiot. I want your bear claw.”

Feisty indeed. He takes a few steps closer, admiring the way she doesn’t back down.

“Well, see, I bought it fair and square, so I believe we are at an impasse.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and scowls at him. “What are you, auditioning for the next Pirates of the Caribbean movie?”

He laughs. She shoots the proverbial daggers from her eyes.

“And get out of my personal space,” she snaps.

“I was attempting to share my umbrella.”

“I’m already wet.”

“I can see that.” He arches a brow. It may earn him a punch to the gut, but he can’t stop himself.

She rolls her eyes again. It’s better than a blow from her fist. “The bear claw?”

“It’s my brother’s favorite.”

“I’ll pay you for it.”

“I still won’t have a bear claw for Liam.”

“Not my problem.”

“Then why is your lack of a bear claw mine?”

She sighs in irritation as she pushes wet strands of hair from her face. “Look, I’ve had a shitty morning, and the only thing that could make it better is a damn bear claw. Okay?”

Something in her eyes shifts, and he frowns. It’s as if a tiny window has opened and then quickly shut again. She doesn’t open up often or easily; he can see that clearly.

“Okay, you can have the bear claw, but the payment I ask isn’t money,” he tells her, all flirtation and cockiness gone from his voice.

She blinks, and her mouth opens in clear offense. “I don’t pillage and plunder with guys I just met, if that’s what you’re asking, pirate.”

He chuckles again as he hands her the umbrella to hold while he opens the box of donuts. He balances the box on his prosthetic while extending the bear claw with his good hand.

“Your name,” he tells her, “that’s all I want.”

She cocks her head at him suspiciously. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

She eyes him, then the bear claw peace offering, then him again. Whatever test she puts him through, he passes.

“Emma Swan,” she says, taking the bear claw.

“Killian Jones.” He winks at her as he takes a step back.

“Your umbrella!” She exclaims as he gets farther away, his own hair now plastered to his forehead.

“You need it more than I do, love.”

And if his address and phone number are on the handle, well, she can do with it what she wills.

Had it been another day, I might have looked the other way, and I’d have never been aware, but as it is I’ll dream of her tonight.

“Killian? Killian!”

“Hmm?”

Liam frowns. “First you give me a plain donut instead of my usual bear claw, and now you’re ignoring me. What’s with you?”

“He met someone,” Ariel says as she comes in to put a folder in the filing cabinet. They really need a bigger office.

Liam arches a brow at him over the rim of his coffee mug, and Ariel leans smugly against the filing cabinet. Killian scowls at her, but she just winks at him.

“It was nothing,” he mutters.

“He gave her your bear claw and his umbrella.”

Liam chuckles. “The umbrella that just happens to have your number on it.”

“How do you know what my umbrella looks like?’

“Because Elsa bought it for you last Christmas.”

Ariel laughs merrily. “Oh Kil, that’s adorable.” She pats him on the shoulder in a way that he frankly feels is condescending as she leaves the room.

“So I take it she was pretty.”

Pretty? The word is insufficient, brother, she was bloody gorgeous. But he says nothing aloud, just scratches behind his ear.

“Blonde hair, green eyes, and in Killian’s own words feisty.”

“Can you shut up now?” he snaps as he turns to where Ariel is still standing in the doorway. She isn’t affected in the least by his irritation, giggling as she heads back to her desk.

“Wow, little brother, she must have been some blonde.”

“Can we get back to the budget,” Killian grumbles, staring intently at the paper work in his hands.

 Falling, yes I am falling, and she keeps calling me back again.

He hasn’t been able to get her out of his mind. He tried to tell himself that she has his number; that if he were a true gentleman, he would let her take the next step. But when Friday rolls around, he can’t help himself. He purposefully arrives late to the bakery at the same time she was there last week. He doesn’t even know if it’s part of her routine, but he has to try.

When he walks into the bakery and sees her sitting at one of the small tables, he thinks he wasn’t crazy after all. When he approaches and sees two bear claws and the nervous smile on her face, he’s sure of it.

“I, um, owed you a bear claw, so . . . “ she says, biting on her lower lip as she slides one of the plates closer to him, “and the umbrella . . . “ she trails off as she gestures to where it’s leaning against her chair.

Many flirtatious barbs and innuendos fly through his head, but her obvious discomfort as she tugs on the ends of her hair cause him to discard each one. Instead, he keeps it simple.

“I appreciate that. May I join you, Swan?”

Her shoulders relax under the warmth of his smile. “That’s the idea. And you remembered my name.”

He winks as he sits. “I did pay for it.”

Her cheeks warm. “True, Killian.”

Now it’s his turn to blush. “And you remembered mine. Let me guess, it’s because it was on the umbrella.”

“No.”

She accompanies the word with a tiny smile and a sparkle in her eyes, and Killian Jones learns in that moment that Emma Swan says a lot with few words.

They linger over their bear claws and through two cups of coffee. In that time, Killian also learns that Emma reveals herself slowly and hesitantly. She does tell him why she was so desperate for a bear claw last Friday. She’s a bail bondsperson, and she had been up all night staking out a perp who never showed. It had left her irritated, tired, and pissed that she hadn’t been home with her son. The last piece of information is delivered with a sidelong glance, as if she’s waiting for him to find an excuse to make a quick exit. Her eyebrows lift to her hairline with surprise and pleasure when he asks about the lad instead. She’s still guarded in sharing about him, something he completely understands and respects.

It’s a text from Liam that brings their time together to an end. (Where the hell are you, little brother? Everyone’s waiting for their donuts!) He really doesn’t care about his pissed off brother or the fact that everyone’s going to have to settle for plain glazed this week. Emma was there, she was happy to see him, and she actually had a conversation with him. He’ll gladly be late and face the wrath of the entire office very damn Friday for that.

He knows that’s all he can hope for – running into her again next week. He sees how high her walls are, knows it will take patience and a gentle touch to scale them, so he tells her breakfast was lovely and walks out with his box of donuts. He’s surprised when he hears her breathless voice behind him, calling for him to wait.

“Your umbrella,” she tells him.

He hadn’t left without it on purpose, but he’s glad he did when he sees her flushed cheeks and bright eyes as she holds it out to him.

“Thank you for letting me borrow it.”

Their fingers brush as she hands it to him, and the spark between their skin emboldens him. He sets the box of donuts and the umbrella on the hood of his car and turns to her with a flirtatious arch of his brow.

“Don’t you think gratitude is in order?” he asks flirtatiously as he taps his lips.

The slow grin that spreads across her face says more than any words could. “Yeah, that’s what the thank you was for.”

“That’s all I get? For keeping you dry all day?” He ducks his head and gives her a heated look from beneath his lashes. He’s laying it on thick, but the light in her eyes eggs him on.

“Please,” she says with that arousing roll of her eyes, “you couldn’t handle it.”

He leans into her personal space. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.” He pops the “t” as he gazes at her lips.

He really thought that all he would get from her was more heated banter. He hadn’t expected Emma Swan to grab him by the collar of his leather jacket and kiss the living hell out of him, but that’s exactly what she does. She kisses him roughly, her tongue assaulting his in the most glorious way. He kisses her back with equal fervor, and she pulls back for a heartbeat only to dive back in for more. When they finally part, breathless and unsteady on their feet, he’s thoroughly wrecked.

“That was . . . “ he has no words actually for what that was. The best kiss of his life, perhaps, but it sounds a little too intense to say that out loud.

“I don’t do relationships,” she tells him, her lips still a breath away, her hands still clutching his jacket.

He blinks, feeling a sort of emotional whiplash.

“Because of my son,” she continues. “It’s why I didn’t call even though I had your number. It’s why I almost left three times before you showed up today. It’s why I can’t -”

He silences her with a gentle hand to her cheek. “I understand, Emma.” He smiles gently as he thumbs her still wet lips. “Whatever we become, it’s up to you just as much as it is me.”

She relaxes immediately, taking his hand from her cheek and clasping it against her chest. “I don’t just want a kiss in a parking lot, though.”

He laughs softly. There she goes, saying a lot with few words again.

“Then how about this,” he says, lifting her hands to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, “I’ll be here at the same time next Friday, and if you wish, you can join me for a bear claw again.”

She blinks, her smile soft. “I think I can do that.”

Friday bear claws turn into Friday dinners, which turn into Saturday morning pancakes in his kitchen, which turn into Sunday afternoons sailing with her and her boy Henry, which turn into exchanging rings and a white picket fence. Until the day comes that he’s meeting another new face, this one with the most beautiful blue eyes he’s ever seen.

“Nice to meet you, Hope Jones,” he whispers.

 I’ve just seen a face. I can’t forget the time or place where we just met. She’s just the girl for me, and I want all the world to see we’ve met.

[bridgetkat-blog]

Set Free

No one ever told me; at least, not explicitly. No one ever said the word to me. Anorexic. And I didn’t want them to. I didn’t want to be one of those girls. I wasn’t one of those girls. Somehow that word would have made me something that I wasn’t. Somehow, I thought that one word would have been a lie.

          14 years old. 600 calories per day. 87 pounds. A body mass index of 17.

          It started around my 14th birthday. I told my parents I didn’t want a cake. I don’t remember why. They got me a cake anyway – a small, round one, probably meant to serve about six people. I sat down with the cake in front of me and a fork in my hand, and before I knew it, half of it had disappeared. Guilt rushed into my gut. I sat there and stared at the half of the cake that remained, and the crumbs and smeared frosting that occupied the other half of the plate. For the first time in my life, I felt completely and truly fat.

          The next day, I desperately researched how to reverse a binging episode. Everything I read said the same thing: drink plenty of water, and keep a “clean” diet for the next couple of days. So that’s what I did, or at least, that’s what I thought I did; I’m sure you can imagine how much a 14-year-old knows about dieting. So I made my naïve attempt at “clean eating”— that is, until my self-restriction resulted in more binging. My life went on as a cycle of fasting and binging for a couple of weeks. After that, I had learned to keep myself from binging, but the problem had gone on too long. I had gained five pounds, which felt like twenty. I looked in the mirror at my protruding, bloated belly. I hated myself for letting it happen. I desperately wanted to take a knife to that disgustingly rounded belly and sculpt it flat again. I wanted all of it gone. So while the binging stopped, the fasting continued.

          I kept my calorie intake below 1400 on most days. But eventually, I got tired of counting my calories. I can probably just eyeball it, I told myself. The less I ate, the more successful I felt. I started refusing to eat at restaurants with my family. I survived on scrambled egg whites and steamed broccoli. I always ate prior to social events to avoid the horror of eating pizza or chocolate chip cookies; that is, if I could gain the courage to go at all. My thoughts were constantly dominated by food – what I had eaten, what I would eat later, what I wished I could eat. I would spend hours baking cupcakes and cookies, only to never eat a single bite of them.

          “Hey, will you taste this?” I would ask my little sister. “I wanna make sure you can’t taste the food coloring.”

          “Why don’t you just taste it?” she would ask me. I never quite knew how to respond to questions like that.

          In my neglect to consume food, food began to consume me – my strength, my happiness, my passion. I suffered a kind of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could cure. Whether the exhaustion was a consequence of my malnourishment or my yet-to-be-diagnosed depression, I’m not sure. Honestly, it was probably both.

          After several months, I read something about the dangers of “very low-calorie diets,” or “VLCDs.” I don’t remember how I came across it. Maybe I had googled something like “low-calorie foods” or “how to eat less;” maybe I had just happened upon the term in some magazine article. Like I said, I really don’t remember. Anyway, as I read about this “VLCD” thing, I rejected that I might have been on one of these diets myself, but a voice in my head knew that I was in denial. I went through everything I would eat in a typical day and added up all the calories. The final number I came to was horrifying. I didn’t mean to starve myself. I was only fourteen years old. I thought I was just eating “healthy.” I had no idea that my diet was just as detrimental to my health as a diet of toaster waffles, chicken nuggets, and late-night Taco Bell.

          I was terrified of what I might have done to my body. I came across several sources that suggested that I may have permanently damaged my bones and my metabolism. But I was also terrified of changing. I was still terrified of being fat. So which was worse?

          I was forced to see a nutritionist by my pediatrician. “Disordered eating.” That’s what the nutritionist called it. She said it was different than an eating disorder, but honestly, I call bullshit. It’s literally the same words, just flipped around. Who did she think she was fooling? Anyway, she essentially told me I needed to eat more. I just wanted everyone to stop telling me that.

          Early in my recovery process, I came down with a violent case of the stomach flu. At my next appointment with the nutritionist, I weighed in at 82 pounds – 5 pounds less than my previous visit. The nutritionist brought in some random pediatrician that I had never met before. The asshole scolded me for losing more weight, as if it was my fault I had to live on saltines and ginger ale for an entire week. As if he even knew me at all.

          I knew I needed to gain weight, but I couldn’t bear to imagine how I would look once I did. I looked skinny, and I wanted to keep looking skinny. I had never had a boyfriend, and I never would if I wasn’t skinny. People at school complimented my thin figure. “Oh my gosh, Bridget, how are you so skinny?” one classmate commented. But at the same time, my friends looked at me with puzzled faces when I refused a piece of pizza or a cupcake. But I gradually started to eat more and expand the list of foods I was willing to eat. Eventually, my diet evolved to include ice cream, pizza, peanut butter, Oreos – you know, the things that are worth the calories because they just taste so goddamn good.

          Now, about five years later, I weigh 110 pounds, putting me at a healthy BMI of 21.5. I still struggle with my body image at times, but I have learned to let go of my anxieties around food and not let them interfere with my daily life. I still try to watch what I eat, but with the intention of being healthy rather than skinny. I’ve learned that it’s okay – even healthy – to give in to my cravings every once in a while. I have returned to enjoying birthday cake, snacking on movie theater popcorn, savoring homemade burgers, and devouring campfire s’mores. Food no longer controls my life. I’m finally living again.

[incorrect-trolls]

the trolls as tumblr blogs

Poppy - the girl’s got no real “theme” going, but she’s definitely got a “craft” tag where she’s posted at least three hundred scrapbooking tutorials already, and probably reblogged a few do-it-yourself knitting, crocheting, or sewing videos. sometimes posts cute selfies in colorful dresses with her hair very elaborately styled, or low-quality recordings of her own original music. gets flooded with asks every day, mainly about “how do I do X with my scrapbook, please teach me” or just people telling her how pretty and nice and approachable she is. she answers every single message. no anon left behind. lots of positivity posts, too, mainly just short snippets like “you can do it!!” with smiley-face and thumbs-up emojis. reblogs every meme she sees and always remembers to tag her friends in them. sends Branch asks here and there to make sure he’s still alive. blog is astoundingly well-organized, considering how scattered it is. 

Branch - survivalist. everything. very long, detailed posts with lots of bullet points and big words and italics. the information is actually useful, if you can be bothered to sift through it. tips on how to survive everything from a house fire to the zombie apocalypse. lots of conspiracy posts, too, won’t shut up about Roswell or Illumanati. doesn’t get asks as often as Poppy does, and when he does, it’s usually some anon with some variation of “why are you like this”. responds to said asks with one-word answers. responds to Poppy’s asks with at least some measure of exasperation. reblogs her positivity posts just to counter the encouragement with something typically pessimistic, and tends to go off with her on never-ending threads back and forth where they just disagree on absolutely everything from cats vs. dogs to the infinite possibilities of multiple universes. tells anyone who will listen how much he can’t fucking stand her. would burn before he posted a selfie where “the establishment” could see. everything is meticulously tagged and scrupulously organized. probably runs a sideblog where he posts sappy romantic poetry every few days. no one on his main knows about it. they Must Never Know.

Bridget - kinda lowkey treats her blog like a diary, lots of personal posts, lots of random, unnecessary updates on her life, lots of venting. vague-blogging. all her drama out on main. reblogs recipes if she thinks they look good. doesn’t get memes, but reblogs every single one Poppy tags her in anyway. the rare selfie that does make it onto her blog quickly gets deleted when her insecurities act up. discovered the rainbow emoji a few years ago and never looked back.

Gristle - memes. just. memes. “change my mind”. “you guys are just mean”. gru meme. responds to every ask he gets with a meme. some people think he’s a bot. also lots of vine compilations. some selfies here and there, usually with a caption about how handsome he feels today. once left a comment on one of Bridget’s selfies before she deleted it and just said “hot lunch!” 

Smidge - wall-to-wall workout stuff. mainly two to three-minute videos of her doing power squats or one-handed push-ups or something of the like. has a “goals!!!” tag that’s just pictures and gifs of other bodybuilders. sometimes makes posts about the pros and cons of different sports drinks or protein shakes, and the majority of her selfies are mainly just her flexing proudly. reblogs her friends’ selfies with aggressive, kinda off-the-wall compliments - “LOVE YOURSELF AS MUCH AS I LOVE YOU OR DIE” - but everyone appreciates the thought all the same. occasionally reblogs pics of pretty ladies when she’s tortured by thirst.

Guy Diamond - glitter aesthetics, mainly. gifsets and photos and stimboards of the stuff, but sometimes he’ll intersperse a pic of a big city all lit up at night or a Starbucks coffee cup or something similar.  usually posts at least one selfie per day, if not several, and captions them all w/ nothing but 3 sparkle emojis and a winky face. his text posts are typically something in the vein of “love yourself BITCH”. will talk on and on in the tags about how much he loves the post, but won’t actually tag the content of the post itself. calls every inconvenience he’s ever experienced in his life “homophobic”. if you get him in a sappy enough mood, he’ll wax poetic about the lovely life he’s going to lead with his future husband. 

Biggie - mostly just pictures of Mr. Dinkles, or text posts about him ((e.g. pic of Mr. Dinkles in sunglasses captioned “Mr. Dinkles is feeling chill!”)) or the odd photo of a meal he’s made, or a batch of cupcakes he’s really proud of. occasionally reblogs pictures of other animals as well, mainly cats and kittens. the fuzzier, the better. very sweet and welcoming to everyone, his followers just love sending him asks and hearing about his day, or getting to tell him about theirs. makes everyone feel right at home, and has upwards of ten thousand followers because of this.

Cooper - ??????????????? doesn’t really know what he’s doing at all. occasionally posts memes but none of them actually make any sense. reblogs all his friends’ posts but rarely makes any of his own. adds unnecessary comments to text posts whenever possible. doesnt tag anything.

DJ Suki - music!!!! lots of her own, of course, but reblogs plenty of her favorite bands and artists, too. takes a longggg time to respond to asks and her responses are usually v short, barely more than a few words at a time. aggressively reblogs Poppy’s music and Cooper’s meaningless memes. has sent Branch at least one (1) ask that just said, “chill”. 

Satin and Chenille - clothes tbh, esp fancy evening gowns with sparkles and ruffles and things like that, but the occasional cute blouse finds its way onto their blog, too. lots of pictures of the pieces they’re currently working on and plenty of progress updates. sometimes hold random giveaways for the outfits their followers express the most interest in. occasional step-by-step tutorials on sewing, hairstyles, makeup, or something of the sort. at least one text post a week venting nonstop about each other.

Creek - yoga and meditation techniques at least once a week, and a few tips here and there on practicing mindfulness as well. uses the words “inner peace” and “complete tranquility” several times in one post. almost never reblogs any of his friends’ posts, and ignores Poppy’s attempts to tag him in memes because it “doesn’t fit his theme”. will send Poppy lots of encouraging asks, though, especially after she’s just had a thread with Branch. follows Branch specifically to comment things like “thanks for sharing your unique perspective on things..........again” on his posts.

Cloud Guy - doesn’t tag. default theme. answers asks with the peace-sign emoji, when he gets asks at all. most people are too afraid to initiate contact. got a blog just to send Branch terrifyingly vague or profoundly irritating asks, and comments on Branch and Poppy’s threads with “she’s got a point, rotary joint” whenever he can. Branch has blocked him upwards of five times. he just keeps making blogs. 

[nerdymovielover-blog]

“Troll Holiday” Novelization Review

Okay guys, MAJOR spoilers for the holiday special. I bought the novelization and finally caved and read it so I could write this review. Remember to buy the book yourself! Or buy the movie too when it comes out!

First off, I think this is going to be a wonderful short film to add to the Trolls canon, and fans are going to love it! Everyone’s going to see things they wanted and things they didn’t expect. The root of the story seems to be Poppy’s motivation to make the Bergens happy by giving them a new holiday. But can the Bergens find a Troll holiday to love when the two groups are so different?

SPOILERS START HERE

Everything about this story is so cute. Poppy and Bridget are like the embodiment of “BFF Goals.” They have adorable nicknames for each other, do cool handshakes, and are overall just share this powerful bond of sister-like love.

Speaking of nicknames, Bridget calls Gristle “Grissy” and Gristle calls her “Bridgie” and “babe.” Isn’t that the cutest?!

Not only do we see Poppy and Bridget’s sisterly love, we see Branch trying to fit in as a troll. The writers seem to recognize that moviegoers fell in love with Branch’s sarcasm and satirical paranoia. We can’t have just an overly happy peppy Branch who has his colors. We need a sarcastic and mildly pessimistic Branch who has his colors. We’re going to see plenty of that and also hear his angelic voice. Win-win!

Now, Poppy’s presentation of Troll holidays is going to be messy and quite over-the-top, based on what I read. It’s going to be hilarious and possibly cringe-worthy to watch, but it’s still perfectly in-tune with Poppy’s personality. She’s the type of partier who goes all-out and puts her heart and soul into everything she does. I honestly can’t wait to see the holiday presentation, even if I do cringe for poor Bridget, Gristle, and Barnabas.

The one part I’m not so sure about is the scene where the Trolls go through a wormhole while on a Caterbus (driven by Cloud Guy). It’s a very strange, quite bizarre scene that implies references to the original Good Luck Troll dolls. I feel like this was either two things: an attempt at over-the-top, satirical humor or the storytellers got a little tipsy while writing and the animators just rolled with it. Either way, it should be fun…….I think……

More of my commentary is attached to my favorite passages, also listed in this review. I can’t wait for the special to come out so I can compare it to the image I have in my head thanks to this wonderful novelization.

Enjoy some of my favorite passages below! And remember to buy the book! I only included a select few, and the novel is so worth the buy.

Passages I loved:

Pg. 2: Super-Scrapbooking Day was jam-packed with fun activities. Harper, who loved art, showed the Trolls how to make their scrapbooks more artistic. King Peppy told young Trolls thrilling stories about the adventures of scrapbooking heroes in the olden days. Guy Diamond showed everyone how to dance new steps while they add the sparkle of glitter to their creations.

First off, Super-Scrapbooking Day sounds so much fun! And when Trolls celebrate, they go all-out (there’s even a parade). I love it! I mean, Peppy is telling little ones about “scrapbooking heroes.” I just love all of it already.

Pg. 3-4: “May I see your scrapbook?” Poppy asked. Branch hastily hid it behind his back. “It’s not done,” he said. “It’s actually my first scrapbook ever.” “Aw, c’mon!” Poppy said, grinning. “Gimme a sneak peek!” “Well…….okay. But promise you won’t laugh!” “I won’t laugh—no way! What’s the theme of your scrapbook?” Poppy asked eagerly. “Rainbows? Cupcakes? Rainbows made out of cupcakes?” Branch rolled his eyes. “Rainbows made out of cupcakes? How is that even possible?” “With scrapbooking, ANYTHING is possible! So what’s your theme?” “Rocks.” “Rocks?” “Yeah. Rocks.”

Aww, look at our little Branch! He’s trying so hard to be happy and fit in with the other Trolls now that he has his colors back. But he still has some of that leftover greyness. In this special, I feel like we’re going to see quite a bit of Branch trying to figure out who he is: what is Blue Branch and what is Grey Branch?

Pg. 6-7: Not that the Bergens never had fun nowadays. They weren’t nearly as miserable as they’d been before the Trolls helped them find the happiness inside themselves. They were perfectly capable of being happy. They just weren’t very good at it. One Bergen’s idea of fun was to organize a picnic at a mud puddle. Nobody came. In fact, even the Bergen who’d invited everyone didn’t show up. Another Bergen thought it might be fun to play soccer with a wooden cube. She ended up in the hospital.

The Bergens are all undergoing changes and learning new things. They spent so much time thinking that true happiness came from eating a Troll. Just because they know they have happiness inside them doesn’t mean they know how to feel it. It must be such a big change for them to lose their only holiday and have no idea how to feel happiness without the Trolls.

Pg. 9: In Troll Village, Cooper walked around collecting mail. After he’d gathered it all, he quickly delivered it. This was easy, since most of the time he only had to walk over to the next pod and hand its owner a card or a party invitation.

This seems like a reference/throwback to an early concept design for Cooper, where our favorite giraffe-like troll was a mailman for the village. Very clever, Dreamworks.

Pg. 13: Poppy turned and saw Branch looking at himself in her mirror. He was making a face that looked tense. Painful, even. “What are you doing? What’s happening with your face? Are you about to barf?” Branch shook his head. “No, I’m practicing my smile. You know, I’m new to this whole being happy thing.”

I see some discussion about Branch’s dulled colors in the special. This further proves some of the theories that Branch as PTSD-like symptoms. He’s trying to be happy and be like the other trolls, but those are two different things. I think he’s definitely happy, especially when he’s with Poppy. But he’s not just like the other trolls, not anymore.

Pg. 25: “Wait a minute,” Branch said. “Making his own echo? Where have I heard that voice before?” Then he remembered! “Oh, no . . . not him.”

Poor Branch still doesn’t like Cloud Guy very much, which I find hilarious.

Pg. 35: Branch pointed toward the meadows. “Well, that way looks friendly and inviting, but you just know it’s going to turn out to be horrible and terrible once you get there.”

Aw, there’s our cute little pessimistic Grey Branch. Honestly, I’m glad the writers kept some of Branch’s sarcastic, sometimes-pessimistic personality even when he has his colors. After all, I think most of us fell in love with Branch because he contrasted so much against Poppy.

Pg. 39: Gigantic snowflakes fell from the sky and stuck into the ground on their sharp points. Each flake stood twice as high as a Troll!

See, what stands out to me here is that I recognize this as a brief scene from Trolls during Poppy’s song “Get Back Up Again.” Once again, the writers show how they recycle things used in the movie or concepts scrapped from the original cut. That’s the great thing about writing and filmmaking. Something that doesn’t work in one place may be awesome somewhere else in a related field.

Pg. 44: “Uh-oh,” Biggie sighed. “Who’s good at untying knots?” “Pirates?” Cooper guessed.

I’m sorry, that was like an awesome Dad Joke. I actually laughed out loud.

Pg. 52-53: Cloud Guy had an amazing voice. But he was loud. Really loud. In fact, he was so loud, several critters’ faces scrunched up. Others covered their ears with their feet. Some fell to the ground. As the critters writhed on the ground, tortured by Cloud Guy’s thundering vocals, the Trolls slipped away.

Oh geez. I’m not sure I’m looking forward to hearing that.

Pg. 56: “Cooper,” Poppy said, “pyrotechnics.” “Huh?” Cooper said. “I thought I was doing the fireworks.” “Pyrotechnics are fireworks,” Branch explained. “Oh,” Cooper said. “In that case, ready!” He gave a confident nod and a welding mask fell own over his face. he raised a gas torch, which was already lit and flaming.

Um………is anyone else concerned by that image?

Pg. 62: “On Tickle Day, we all get tickled by . . . SPIDERS!”

Okay, this is the part where I start to question the Trolls’ way of life, no matter how cute it looks. I respect all living creatures, even spiders, but I don’t want to be tickled by one.

Pg. 76: Bridget took a deep breath. “I guess what I’m saying is none of this really means anything to us.” “Um, okay,” Poppy said, not exactly sure what her friend meant. “But I just want you to have something to celebrate.”

Serious moment at last after all the craziness of the holiday presentations. This is significant. Trollstice was the Bergens’ only holiday, the only time they could be happy. Bridget has a point: none of the Trolls’ holidays mean anything to the Bergens. They don’t have any emotional attachment to said holidays. But Poppy also brings up a good point: the Bergens need something to celebrate. They need a way to exercise their new happiness, and what better way than a special, annual occasion that they can share with each other?

Pg. 80: Branch approached the pink shrub. “Poppy, I know you’re hiding in your hair.” The pink shrub sudden turned around and howled. It was a strange pink-haired critter! “Not Poppy! Not Poppy!” Biggie said, clutching Mr. Dinkles protectively. “Sorry,” Branch said. “Wrong hair.”

Major LOL! I hope we actually see that scene in the movie!

[g0dblessthefandom]

Brittana Valentine’s Semi AU (Updated Daily Unt-bwhahahahahaha) February 14, 2017

February 14, 2017

“I’m not going.”

“Santana-”

“Mercedes, it’s Valentine’s Day. I may have just broken up with the love of my life, and you want me to spend it with you and Sugar and her girlfriend on a boat? Yeah, I’m going to give that a pass.”

“Well, Rachel will be there too.”

“Hard pass.”

As she sat on the phone in her new office, Santana was doing her best to keep her cool. Between trainings, meetings and getting her email set up, she’d finally been able to think about something other than the disappointment in Brittany’s eyes in the library two nights before. It was working, just barely. But Valentine’s Day was upon her, and every day there were flower deliveries, cupcakes and boxes of chocolates filling her office. Every time Santana saw a stuffed bear holding a heart, she wanted to rip it’s head off.

And now Mercedes was calling to in an attempt to drag her out of the house, and she couldn’t think of anything else that she would like to do less.

“What are you going to do, then?”

“I’m going to pick up some ice cream on the way home, curl up under the covers, and watch Golden Girls on Hulu.”

“Santana, do I ever ask you for anything?”

Santana tried to make the pause she took to roll her eyes a little less noticeable. “No, Mercedes, you don’t.”

“So, can you do me this little favor, please?”

To be honest, Mercedes asked her for stuff all the time, but saying that would lead to an even bigger guilt trip that would make Santana’s own mother uncomfortable. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend time with Mercedes and Sugar, but today of all days… Santana scrambled to try and come up with an excuse that might work, when Mercedes interrupted her thoughts.

“Are you there, Santana?”

Dammit. She was screwed.

“Yeah, Mercedes, I’m here. I’ll come along. But Sugar and Jane start humping on the couch, or Rachel decides to turn things into an impromptu musical performance, I am so out of there.”

“Great!” Santana could hear Mercedes’ smile through the phone. “We’ll leave from my place, so just come right home after work and we’ll leave from here.”

“Fine.” Santana tried to take the whine out of her voice, but Mercedes was satisfied.

“Ok, see you then.”

“See you, Mercedes.”

Santana hung up the phone and sat back in chair with a sigh. As much as she’d tried to spend the last two days not thinking about Brittany, it was easier said than done. It wasn’t really a matter of trying to figure out where she and Brittany went wrong. That was a Gordian knot that she couldn’t even begin to untangle. There were so many broken promises and harsh words. Maybe it was a matter of talking it out or maybe it couldn’t ever be solved.

Santana picked up her cell phone, and scrolled down to Brittany’s name. She opened a blank text and sat for a moment watching the cursor blink back at her.

You were right, I was wrong. I can’t ever make up how I let you down and I-

Santana couldn’t continue. There was too much to say than she could say in a text message. But sometimes she felt like she was all talked out. . Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. If she were smart, she’d delete the whole thing, and go do some work. She could do a couple of rounds in the office, start introducing herself to people, and munch on an one of those fruit baskets where the fruit is cut into shapes for you. But there were so many things that she wanted to say to Brittany. She wanted to tell her everything, but she wasn’t sure where to start.

She deleted the message and tried again.

I’m sorry.

She deleted that almost immediately. She had stuff to be sorry for, sure, but what would more apologies do? She typed another short message.

Happy Valentine’s Day

She took a deep breath and pressed send. She put her phone on silent, and stood up from her desk. Then, thinking better of it, she opened her desk drawer and stuck the phone in, slamming the drawer closed.

“Whoa, Lopez, getting fed up with the rat race already?”

One of her colleagues, Bridget peeked into her office with a grin.

“Yeah, no, sorry. I’m good, where are you off to?”

“Word is Penny in HR got a box of chocolates from an ex and she’s sharing, so, you want to get over there before all the ones with coconut inside are gone?”

“Ew, gross, coconut?”

“More for me, then.” Bridget laughed, but she soon became serious. “Is everything okay, Santana?”

Santana wasn't one to open up on a whim. Bridget was nice enough and had volunteered to show her around the office but she wasn't sure she wanted to tell everything about her relationship with Brittany to a virtual stranger.

She shook her head. “I'm fine. Just still getting used to being back in the 9 to 5, you know?”

“Yeah, I hear that.” Bridget said agreeably. “You want to go snack your troubles away?”

Santana heard a rumbling from her desk and stood up quickly, plastering on a fake smile for effect. “You know what? I'm actually going to go out for a late lunch. See what grazing options we’ve got around here.”

Bridget didn’t look convinced by the smile, but knew enough not to ask too many question. She returned a more authentic smile of her own, and turned towards the door.

“Well, have fun, Santana. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Santana’s smile slipped a little, and she reattached it tightly. “Thanks.”

Bridget was out the door, and Santana slipped on her coat, and grabbed her wallet, stuffing in it in her pocket. Her desk rumbled again, but she ignored it, sending one last glance towards the drawer that held her phone, before shaking herself, and heading out the door.

\

Classes were over for the day, but it had mostly been a waste. For all of her precautions, Brittany’s classes kept getting interrupted by singing telegrams, candygrams and balloon-a-grams, or whatever else proclamations of love her students could come up with. It had been difficult to ignore at first, but as the day wore on, each of the interruptions reminded her more and more of her single condition, and made her more and more surly. Finally, after Jane had left after lunch (to pretty herself up for date night with Sugar), Brittany couldn’t take it anymore, and emailed her students telling them class was cancelled for the day. She got on her bike thinking she’d head home, the day was unseasonably warm so she took a left when she’d normally would have made a right, and headed into Central Park.

The sun shining down on her shoulders, and the wind at her back as she watched parents push their kids around the park perked her up a little. She tried to ignore the couples nuzzling on benches, and smiling teens holding bunches of red, heart shaped balloons.

Being unsure about Santana was a feeling she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to. It wasn’t something that she had to grapple with much before. From the time they first met, they’d barely spent any time apart. When they were in high school together, Santana was her refuge and her best friend. When Santana had finally come out and accepted herself, Brittany had been right there, standing proud. And when Santana had finally had the courage to tell Brittany that she loved her, Brittany was ready again to show the feelings she’d always felt. All of those moments, all of those memories came crashing over here. She thought she’d done a good job repressing them, but she lived them in a million new ways every day.

Brittany sighed, getting off the bike and walking it over a hill. She had just reached the top of the rise when her breath was caught in her throat. The jet black hair, the smooth, pale russet skin, the strong, supple legs poking out from underneath a navy pencil skirt.

It was Santana.

Brittany had to laugh at herself. Of all the parks, in all the city, of course (of course) she would bump into Santana. She could be in Antarctica, and she’d run into Santana there; her nose rosy from the cold, offering her a big warm cup of hot chocolate. Yet, there she was. Her former fiancee, her former girlfriend, her former everything, sitting on a bench, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world. Brittany hesitated a moment, not sure if she should approach. Suddenly, the decision was made for her, and almost as though pulled by magic, Santana’s eyes met hers.

Brittany was seized by a momentary panic. Should she run? Slowly back away? Fall down and pretend to be a rock? Her mind was made up for her again when she saw the small smile on Santana’s face. She began to walk forward.

Brittany approached slowly, not sure if we was a welcome sight. She waved as she got closer, and saw Santana waved in return.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

The echoes of the children playing nearby swirled around them. Brittany gestured to the bench.

“Mind if I sit down?”

“Of course not.”

Brittany sat and there was a moment of silence. Only, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but there was a familiarity in it. It was something that she missed. She sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Santana asked, not turning to face her.

“I, um, I broke up with Clark.”

“Hm.”

It was a little sound, and to anyone else it would have been a completely neutral one. But Brittany knew better.

“I supposed I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“And why’s that?” Santana still didn’t turn.

“I guess- Well, I guess I don’t want you to think I expect anything.”

“Expect anything? Like what?”

Brittany sighed again. “I don’t know, some grand pronouncement. Some declaration of love, or remorse or whatever. I don’t think we’re about that anymore.”

“We’re not?”

There was a bit of a grin in Santana’s voice, but Brittany pressed on.

“No. I mean, we’re older and wiser now, I guess. At least I should hope so.”

“Well, we’re definitely older.”

“Yep.”

The moment hung on a bit longer, and Santana cleared her throat.

“Sugar convince you to go on her dad’s boat tonight?”

Brittany laughed. “How did you know?”

“Because Mercedes did the same thing to me. Only she guilted me into it.”

“Sugar might have mentioned fondue.”

This elicited an actual laugh from Santana who glanced at Brittany out of the corner of her eye.

“Your only weakness.”

“I imagine it’s all a part of some cockamamie scheme to get us out in the harbor, stuck out there until we resolve our differences.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“But, for some reason, I don’t think it’ll work.”

This time Brittany turned, more than a little shocked. “What do you mean? Do you think-?”

She let her voice trail off. Too afraid to finish the thought. There were implications in Santana’s words that she didn’t want to think about.

“I just mean-” Santana started, almost as if she were reading Brittany’s mind. “I think we need more than a long conversation trapped on Al Motta’s boat to figure all this out. But, I’m willing to try if you are.”

The panic in Brittany’s mind seemed to dissipate as quickly as it gathered, and she nodded slowly.

“It’s just-” Brittany continued after a while. “It’s just that for the first time in a long time. I don’t know what I want.”

Santana let the statement settle. She felt the stress, uncertainty and fear that had clouded her judgement the past few weeks fade away. Of course, it would have been perfect if Brittany had jumped into her arms, covering her with kisses, and begging to be with her forever, but this was something different altogether, but no less welcome. This was someone who could be truly happy again, and that’s all that Santana could ask for.

She smiled, patting Brittany’s leg gently. “That’s okay, Britt. I’m just glad to be here with you.”

Brittany put a hand on top of Santana’s, relishing the touch for a moment longer.

\

“Heard anything yet, Sug?”

“Nope, but I know Brittana. If they were coming, they’d have been here already.”

Mercedes and Sugar stood up on the bow of a gorgeous boat, gazing out on harbor, where lights shined onto the water, dancing with the waves. The last tendrils of sunlight had faded away, and though the stars weren’t visible, the sky was crisp and clear. The last of winter was still holding on, but spring was on it’s way, and the world was still turning.

Mercedes pulled her shawl a bit closer around her shoulders. “What do you think?”

“I think we should shove off. I’ve got a special gift for Jane, and I’m kind of nervous in giving it to her.”

“It’s not that bright pink dildo you had delivered to my house, was it?”

Sugar laughed. “Well, that’s part of it, but I couldn’t send it to my house, could I? She would have seen it and asked about it.”

“Okay, but you also put my name on it, and I opened it! I could have had a heart attack.”

“I put your name on it because we’re at your house all the time too, and if it’d had my name on it, it would have been even more suspicious. Anyway, don’t act like you’ve never seen one of those before.” Sugar said, waggling her eyebrows.

“I don’t see how that’s any-” Mercedes rolled her eyes. “Anyway, if it’s not that, then what is it?”

Sugar dug around in her pocket for a moment, bringing out a small white box. She opened it with a flourish and presented it to Mercedes, who looked inside curiously.

“It’s a key.”

“Well, yeah, it’s my key. My house key. I’m asking her to move in with me.” Sugar grinned.

“Oh wow, that’s terrific, Sugar! It’s kind of a big step. Have you ever lived with anyone before?”

“Nah, but we practically live together now. I’m either at her place or she’s at mine. I don’t really know if she’ll want to live in my building, but we can always get something in between our places. For some reason, she loves living out in Brooklyn. It’s just a gesture, you know? Like, ‘hi, I’m awkward, and weird, but I’ve also never felt like this about anyone before, and I really like you.’”

“That’s really nice. I’m actually surprised you didn’t give her something extravagant, like a pony or something.”

“Jane doesn’t like horses. I mean, she doesn’t not like them, but she says there’s something about their faces that she doesn’t quite trust. Anyway, she’s told me a million times she’s not interested in her own private helicopter, or a gold plated guitar, or a orca named for her. It’s not about the money, it’s, like, about the thought behind it.”

“That’s a very profound realization you’re making there, Sugar.”

“Yeah, it’s super weird. But, I guess she’s worth it.”

Mercedes watched the wistful smile on Sugar’s face for a moment, and couldn’t help the one that crept onto her own. Things weren’t perfect with her Troubletones, but they were getting better everyday, and she was happy for that.

Suddenly, there was a commotion behind them, and they turned to see Jane stumbling up the steps. Sugar fumbled with the box for a moment, shoving it into her purse, and attempting to look as nonchalant as possible.

“What are you two doing up here? It’s cold.” Jane approached, and wrapped her arms around Sugar.

Sugar melted into the embrace, and snuggled a bit against Jane’s shoulder.

“Sugar was just saying that she’s pretty sure that Brittany and Santana will not be joining us.” Mercedes said.

“Oh no. Wait, what do you think that means?”

“I’m not really sure, honestly.”

Just then Mercedes’ phone rang, with Sugar’s going a moment later, and then another loud ringing from in the hold.

Curious, Mercedes pulled her phone out of her pocket.

“It’s from Brittany.”

“Yeah, I know, I got the same thing.” Jane said, studying her phone.

There was a crash as the door as Rachel clambered up from below decks. “Did you guys SEE this text from Brittany?”

A mile spread slowly across Mercedes face as she studied the picture message. It was a selfie with Brittany and Santana smiling over a pizza placed on a checkered tablecloth with text that read:

Thanks for the invite, but we’d rather skip the boat ride for now. See you guys later. P.S. -- Santana says hi.

“I guess that means they’re not coming.”

“Well, yeah, Sugar, but they’re together. That’s what we wanted, right?” Mercedes said, good naturedly.

“I guess.” Sugar pouted. “But, I was kind of looking forward to having everybody here on the boat tonight.”

“Don’t you have something you wanted to give to Jane anyway? I thought you were getting antsy.”

This piqued Jane’s interest, and she dislodged herself from Sugar, looking at her square on. “What did you get me?”

“Um, nothing! I mean, something. But, I mean, anyway, we’d better head off, I’ll let the captain know. Captain Davies? Um, Captain Davies?”

Sugar scurried downstairs and with a laugh, they all followed.

[bossbex]

Ok here we go!! My answers to @theheavycrown 's thoughtful Riverdale questions 😊

1. If you could see Cole & Lili act their parts of Bughead in any movie AU, what would it be?

The Notebook because why not 😍

2. If you could switch two characters positions in Riverdale, while maintaining their personality, which switch would you want to see?

I had to think so hard about this... Cheryl and Betty. Wait, here me out!!! Lol. I'm mostly just interested in how Cheryl's personality would play out in a more stable home environment, and what Betty would do with the constant shit Cheryl gets thrown at her. Bughead would still be a thing, but seeing how the Blossoms respond to their daughter dating someone from the "wrong side of the tracks" would be interesting as well.

3. Bughead is getting married - describe the wedding. (Colors? Flowers? Theme? Cake? Decor? Readings? as ideas)

Simple, small wedding. Kevin becomes ordained online and does the ceremony. They do it on the shore of Sweetwater river. Wildflowers (different colours: pinks, oranges, purples, lots of green). They write their own vows. Betty gets through hers pretty easily with a tear or two (public speaking is her thing, after all) and Jughead can barely get through his, he's choking up so much. Everyone's teary eyed. Archie is the best man, of course, and does a heartfelt but kinda corny speech (that everyone loves anyway). He talks about how the three of them were all best friends growing up and everyone used to talk about how he and Betty would get married one day, but he always knew Jughead was the one for her based on their mutual love of writing, sleuthing, and true crime. Veronica's speech is about how she was skeptical at first about Betty's relationship with "Riverdale's Holden Caulfield", but she quickly saw how in love and devoted Jughead was and she could see early on that they were Endgame. They play the shoe game, and Jughead is surprised when Betty puts up her own shoe for the question "Who fell in love first?" (He put up his own shoe as well for that question, to the surprise of no one). First dance is to "You are the best thing" by Ray LaMontagne. Jughead thinks it's cliche but goes along with it anyway because Betty loves it; he also secretly goes takes dancing lessons before the wedding so he can impress Betty with his skills (it works). They do cupcakes instead of a cake... Jughead picks them out and is adamant that they are delicious but doesn't care as much about how they look. He also wants to be able to hand them out to everyone right away and not go through the whole cake cutting show. Pop's serves a midnight snack of mini burgers and milkshakes (no poutine, we know that's not his specialty! 😂).

4. What is Jughead’s favorite food that Betty makes?

Chocolate chip cookies, of course.

5. If Jughead could have any superpower, what do you think he would choose?

Invisibility

6. What do you think Betty’s favorite romcom would  be?

Bridget Jones

7. Bughead is going on their honeymoon, if price was no object, where would they go?

Italy - they'd take the train and do a 3 week backpacking tour, and do all the cliche touristy things (picture "leaning" against the leaning tower of Pisa, the Colleseum in Rome, the Uffizi gallery in Florence, gondola ride in Venice), but they'd also stay in some smaller towns where they'd shop for their food at the markets, hang out in some bars with the locals, lounge on the beach all day, and do amazing private wine tours.

8. If Betty had a tumblr, and she could have any url, what would it be?

She'd keep it simple... @bettycooper if available.

9. If you could hang out with the Core Four for the day, what hang out activities would you want to do?

Bowling!!! Then hang out at Pop's after, obviously.

10. What do you imagine the first song Archie attempted to learn on guitar was?

More Than Words by Extreme

11. If a theme song played whenever Veronica entered the room, what would it be?

Girl on Fire by Alicia Keys

11 Questions Tag!

My 11 questions for my tags are at the bottom. I went all Riverdale themed!

I was tagged by the cupcake and a half @killmongerforever .

1. Sunsets or sunrises? Definitely sunset, what is morning? I don’t know her. 2. Your favorite thing to do at the beach? Last time I went, years ago, I actually learned how to body board at a very basic level. Intro to it as you will. Going out to waist height, catching the wave at just the right time and riding it in on the board on your belly. It was the best. 3. If money weren’t a priority, what job would you want? I would love to be a writer. Too bad my brain functions on wtf is creativity level. 4. Favorite type of dog? The small fluffy kind, 15 pounds or less and fluffy for sure. I have a Maltese and a Havanese. 5. You’re at Pop’s, what are you going to order? Cheeseburger, french fries, and crossing my fingers Pop has some ranch. 6. You run into the cast of Riverdale on the street, but you can onlly take a picture with one of them! Who do you choose? Probably Cole. I don’t think I could bring myself to ask him if I could touch his hair, but maybe it could happen purely by accident. I really want to know.  7. Marry, fuck, kill. Reggie, Moose, Kevin. Marry Kevin, Fuck Reggie, Kill Moose. Sorry Moose you’re cardboard. 8. A fic you read when you want to feel happy? I don’t re-read fics because I have so many I want to read still. Uhhh…. hearts rise above by @onceuponamirror makes me happy in a my heart is going to burst kind of way. I still haven’t finished reading. I can’t even. It’s so perfect. 9. A fic you read when you want to cry? I feel like one fic made me cry sometime in the past few months…. You know that feeling in the big moment of a romcom or an inspirational sports film where you get chills and a prickling in the backs of your eyes in this rush of emotion but you don’t quite cry? Gingersnap , by @stillscape , chapter 3, the big moment? Gave me that. 10. You have to live with a family on Riverdale. Whose family do you choose? The Tates! What’s up Pop! 11. A song that reminds you of Bughead? A LOT OF THEM. Bad At Love, by Halsey for the longest period of time, during that whole on again off again, mistakes section. Besides that, off the top of my head? Cosmic Love, by Florence and the Machine. 💛 💙  Riverdale themed questions for my tags!  💙 💛

My 11 questions for you are…

1. If you could see Cole & Lili act their parts of Bughead in any movie AU, what would it be?

2. If you could switch two characters positions in Riverdale, while maintaining their personality, which switch would you want to see?

3. Bughead is getting married - describe the wedding. (Colors? Flowers? Theme? Cake? Decor? Readings? as ideas)

4. What is Jughead’s favorite food that Betty makes?

5. If Jughead could have any superpower, what do you think he would choose?

6. What do you think Betty’s favorite romcom would  be?

7. Bughead is going on their honeymoon, if price was no object, where would they go?

8. If Betty had a tumblr, and she could have any url, what would it be?

9. If you could hang out with the Core Four for the day, what hang out activities would you want to do?

10. What do you imagine the first song Archie attempted to learn on guitar was?

11. If a theme song played whenever Veronica entered the room, what would it be?

I went full speed ahead Riverdale questions on this one. I can’t wait to see some of your responses!!!! I am actually excited to make these tags.

I tag… @stark , @onceuponamirror , @lilibug–xx , @tory-b , @cas-is-hm-hes-gone , @ieatbooksfortea , @mogitz , @flannelfogarty , @dreamersshouldknowbetter ,  @allskynostars , @lessoleilscouchants , @somethinglikegumption , @it-happened-one-starry-night , @starlightafterastorm , @bossbex , @thedenisecarla , @myrmidonofmelodrama , @bettycoopr , @smoochmejuggie

OKAY. I have no idea how many of you guys I just tagged. Feel free to disregard if you aren’t up for it, but I’d love to see all the variations of answers to these!! I know I was tagged in a few more of these so…. I’ll probably try to come up with some other questions for more tags! If you like these, let me know, I may try to write up a whole Riverdale themed ask game for fandom!

[whatdoesagoodgirllooklike-blog]

The ‘Girly’ Series

Essay: Basic Bitches Lou Stoppard asks why women want to be girls

BY LOU STOPPARD ON 6 NOVEMBER 2014.

Our generation has been forced into a time warp, cruelly prevented from ever growing up like some sad passive female Peter Pan in American Apparel disco pants. Masculinity is in crisis. We all know that. Hey, Shortlist magazine have even set up a whole initiative to mentor lost young men, those poor bewildered twenty-something blokes who have no idea what their place in society is or who even cares about them anymore. Look around at young guys - once, as a collective, the nation's sweethearts, marching off to defend King and Country and wooing British beauties down the dance (all the clichés your grandparents go on about) – and you’ll see they've become mindless Superdry-wearing morons, neknominating themselves into oblivion while 'ripping the piss' out of their mates and quietly sinking into a shallowly-masked, confused comedown that lasts their whole twenties and thirties. Our heroes have no idea who they’re meant to be – society’s pillars or outcasts? Women’s protectors or equals? Tough, emotionless beings or sensitive creatives?

As always men are hogging the limelight. As the media avidly reports on their descent into a regressive state – those weekends playing Grand Theft Auto in their teenage bedrooms post-uni and attempts to replicate semi-violent YouPorn clips with poor unsuspecting girls  - women are going through their own identity crisis. Now I'm not giving bait to the mindless ‘feminism killed it for women’ brigade. This isn't about girls having too much choice and freedom that we don't know what to do with it and would rather just give up our jobs and freedoms and return to a blissful state of domesticity and passivity. This actually has very little to do with women’s rights, it's all about age, education and economy.

If you were a girl born any time between the mid eighties to early nineties - basically if you have some memory of making formative identity developments to the soundtrack of B*Witched or ever wore Von Dutch - you grew up being heralded as the mature ones. As a sex, girls ruled the school. We were told our mental ages were years above boys by beaming teachers who cast weary glances at the confused, acne-ridden idiots alongside us. We beat them in our GCSEs, we took 'their' university places. When Tim or Mark or whoever dumped us, our parents, friends or teachers told us he's just an immature loser – he’ll grow out of it, you’re too old/sensible/wise for him. But then, sometime post college or uni, as the recession hit, came the drastic realisation that there’s not much use having the sense and maturity of a boy 5-10 years older than you if your generation is jobless (733,000 young people aged 16 to 24 were unemployed in June to August 2014 and in 2012 1 in 10 graduates couldn’t get a job six months out of study). What's the use of kicking the ass of some sexist public school boy convinced of women's innate inferiority in your university finals (sorry Jack), if you're going to end up sleeping back at your parent’s house under those faded Powerpuff Girls bed sheets and picking back up the same part-time cash-in-hand job you had aged 15? Our generation has been forced into a time warp, cruelly prevented from ever growing up like some sad passive female Peter Pan in American Apparel disco pants. So what did we do in response? In a slightly less thuggish way than the boys, and in most cases with less substance abuse, we returned to a childlike state. Confused by our position, we reveled in our lack of responsibilities – even though we’d actually quite liked to have bought a house or, you know, have been offered a salary - and embraced eternal infancy.

It’s a sad cycle. We're told our body clocks are ticking and are constantly saddled with a strange Bridget Jones-esque 'sad single girl' tag by an older generation, confused by the fact we've been unable to pluck a husband from the tropes of bewildered boys struggling through the same crisis of societal and employment rejection. So we resort to silliness. Sure our eggs may be dying but have you seen our hilarious Mean Girls quotes on Instagram? Your hair looks sexy pushed back! It doesn't matter that we're unemployed as we're dressed like our responsibility-less 13-year-old self anyway! How ironic is this crop top? Emojis are our baby talk. Aren’t we cute! Our poster girls are either #TBT heroines like Cher Horowitz or TOWIE sirens like Amy Childs, on one hand so 18+ with her man-made breasts and lips, on the other so infantile with her baby voice, wide-eyes and moronic chit chat (she once asked if a matador was a type of penguin. Adorable!!) The ‘basic bitch’ isn't the only manifestation of this crisis but she's one of them. What's intriguing about her isn't her vapidity (Urban Dictionary defines her as a ‘white suburban girl who…takes pictures of everything, and when the miracle occurs that she leaves the house she will take snapchats of the endeavour to make sure the world knows. These journeys will include trips to Starbucks, Chipotle or other appropriately 'basic' locations.’) but her infantile props - the cupcakes, the florals, the ‘Keep Calm and Go Shopping’ cushions, the My Little Pony iPhone case, the glittery princess stickers decorating her iPad. Basically she's a sign that 'your average' twenty-something girl is stuck in time, obsessing over the music and fashion of her youth and the repressive domesticity - hello Cath Kidston - of her ancestors. If there was ever a sign our generation is reveling in childishness it’s Zoella: a 24-year-old woman – and, according to more sources than I’d care to read, this generation’s ‘role model’ - who makes YouTube videos of herself squealing like a hysterical toddler over a Boots bronzer. Bleak.

For women, is grasping at our infancy some desperate attempt to slow time down? A weird Disney-fetishising 'we never had it so good mentality', that leaves us dreaming of the infinite freedom but also infinite hope of our youth. The sheer number of girls who have selected The Little Mermaid as their social media avatar or are 'ironically' sporting Hello Kitty accessories seems to suggest so. Young women have no idea who our role models are. We want to be strong but can't be the 'power career women' Vogue makes a trend of each season because no one wants to hire us. That's never been more patently clear than on the runways. Those 'adult' icons - the strong women of Celine or the vixen of Tom Ford – entice us but don’t relate to us. Who is this ‘high flying gallerist or writer’ who shops Phoebe Philo? Not us. We can tell the Tom Ford look is regressive - who wants to look like the sad 19-year-old bride of a oligarch, dressed in clothes picked out by him - but we don't have much else that’s better and relevant to turn to. So we laugh off the crisis and use silliness as a crutch. For many it’s got nothing to do with personal style – sure, some women consciously and intelligently own this ‘Girly’ look, but most only dabble in accessories. That's where Moschino by Jeremy Scott comes in - peddling pink Barbie plastic phone cases that look like toys you played with as a child to twenty-somethings the world over. Why the success? It speaks to a generation that has nothing to say for itself other than LOL. One that is so displaced and confused about our position in society - rejected on one hand, criticised and obsessed-over on the other - that a Barbie or McDonald’s logo says more about us than anything else. It’s a sorrowful, smile-through-the-tears mentality where we're in control as long as we’re ROFLing. We feel safe around these childish remnants of our youth, they smack of a time before we’d realised we’d probably never get on the property ladder and would likely meet our life partner on Tinder with an action as haphazard and unromantic as a swipe left or right.

What's the alternative? Marry while at university? You'd almost certainly have to in order to wed at the same age as your parents’ generation. Pop out a couple of kids while juggling an internship with a Saturday job and living in a warehouse with six other people? Obviously not. But there is another way. Acceptance. Yes, we’ve been dealt a bad hand but it’s a very real and inescapable one. Fetishising the silly, cartoon and unreal – we all know a Barbie body wouldn’t be able to stand if it belonged to a real woman - may be a distraction but it’s not honest. Fashion’s meant to be about dreaming not numbing – about fantasy not ignoring your realities because they’ve got too tough and things were nicer when you were cared for like a child. Grow up – you can’t hide behind a Barbie hand mirror forever.

I do feel like this essay from the ‘Girly’ project over on SHOWStudio really grasps the concept of why adults want to dress younger - why 18-25+ women are looking to go back in time with their choices of accessories, hairstyles and selfie poses. I like the point of ‘relatability’, this idea of already having been that girl once so she’s no stranger. The Tom Ford ‘Vixen’ does not exist - she’s fantastical. Girls are trying to hold on to reality but it’s long gone and now only a memory or fantasy.