uh holy shit.

writer's block lached on and wouldn't let go.

here's a drabble set to get me on my feet.

--

five words about Gwen and Bridgette.

friendship fic

a/u (the island never happened!)

--

1. Bananas

Bridgette couldn't stop laughing. As her friend bounced around on the stage with the other fourteen members of the school's art club, with an artificial smile and her dyed black hair pulled back with pins, she couldn't help but point and laugh, even.

At the end of the song, all the members pointed and pronounced, "JOIN THE ART CLUB!"

For the rest of the school year, Bridgette would torment her with a reenactment of the dance, as well as the chorus.

"This art is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S!"

2. Sand

Burrowing her feet into the cold beach sand, Gwen sat in the comfortable shade of the faded beach umbrella she and Bridgette had packed into the back of her mom's station wagon. Watching Bridgette suit up in her full wet suit to surf in the fridgid waters just on a dare was strange, but holding up the camera, she grinned.

No one could say her best friend wasn't reckless.

She had photographic proof of it.

3. Alarm Clocks

They had both set their clocks on their phones to go off-- thirty minutes from each other so that if they fell back asleep there would be a failsafe.

But as they both scrambled in the morning, swearing at each other for not setting their alarm clock properly and running outside, they laughed.

They had both simply awoken at 11:00 PM, instead of the much-too-late 11:00 AM, due to excitement for the following day.

(They still overslept.)

4. Condiments

Bridgette slatherered her sandwich (veggie burger with swiss cheese) in mayo, mustard and what appeared to be ranch dressing, while Gwen picked at her salad.

"I don't see why you won't just eat a veggie burger." Bridgette said, in between bites.

"I don't see how you can taste the veggie burger." She scowled, shoving a forkfull of leafy greens in her mouth.

5. Pancakes

After a night of debauchery, including a rock concert for the latest popular indie band, The Islanders, which included two gorgeous males, a fat bassist and a crazed looking, though pretty enough redhead for the guys. The night also included an illegal beer run and the passing of a joint in the back room of the concert hall they had seen the show in, along with the crazed redhead, and the blonde drummer who wouldn't stop making eyes at Bridgette.

They had made their way to the local IHOP, high as humanely possible, and both ordered pancakes, the phone numbers of the blonde drummer and the dark haired lead singer securely in their pockets.