he got me a type writer

Why Am I Like This | Part 1 | JUGHEAD JONES X READER

Description: When talking about a possible homecoming date with her friends, the readers longtime crush Jughead Jones leaves Pop’s diner in a rush but forgets his beloved laptop. What Kevin, Veronica, Archie, and the reader stumble upon raised more questions than answers regarding an apparent secret crush Jughead has someone.

Word Count: 1601

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4| Part 5

For the record, I’m not normally the type of person to go snooping around in other people’s things. But alongside all the secrets that were unveiled in the wake of Jason Blossom’s murder, was the news that my longtime partner in crime/ friend I’ve had a crush on since the beginning of time Jughead Jones, was in love. And it all started one evening when I walked into Pop’s diner.

“Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” Kevin announced loudly as I approached the booth my friends were sitting at.

I rolled my eyes and gestured for Veronica to scoot over so I could sit down. Kevin was pressed up against the window with me and Veronica next to him while Archie and Jughead sat across from us.

“I’m sorry but you know that cross country has its state competition in a month. I gotta run my extra 6 miles a day to build endurance,” I once again explained. I waved over a waitress and ordered a serving fries while Archie and Kevin mocked me. Jughead sat at his computer typing away not once looking up from his screen.

Veronica leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Speaking of cross country, did I see you speaking with Matthew Jackson this morning during your before school practice.” This received a chorus of long, drawn out oooohs from Archie and Kevin.

Jughead stopped typing and looked up from his computer, suddenly very interested in our conversation. A piece of raven black hair fell in front of his crystal blue eyes. Veronica leaned back into her seat pleased with herself.

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Ugh, I’m so sick of the writers repeatedly trying to make it seem like Nick was a terrible, unromantic boyfriend. 

Jess’ “I’m mad that Nick just decides to be a great boyfriend. Where does all this effort come from? Reagan gets Mr. Cupid and I got some nudey card” comment in this episode bothered me a lot. Was Nick a perfect boyfriend? Definitely not. But the writers seem to have forgotten everything that’s happened in season 2 and 3. Honestly, Birthday alone is enough proof of Nick being a good boyfriend. 

Nick supposedly wasn’t the kind to be romantic, he wasn’t the type who planned things. We knew this from the start. But the thing about Nick and Jess’ relationship is that she changed him. He had never felt that way about anyone before. He would have literally done anything for her, remember?

They’re making it seem like Nick never put in any effort which was obviously not the case at all. Everything Nick’s given to Jess or has done for her has had some importance to it. Hell, for him, opening a bank account was a lot but he was going to do it for her. He tried to stop her from doing something stupid and she wouldn’t listen so instead, he chose to do it with her so she wouldn’t have to do it alone. He literally gave Jess something that his dad, who died, gave him? 

It’s just really frustrating for me that they are making Nick and Jess’ relationship seem smaller than it was. It’s like they’ve progressively been trying to justify their breakup in Mars Landing since season 4 and it still doesn’t make any sense. I know that they had to break up eventually and they did have issues that they needed to solve but c’mon. When things are going great, Jess runs away? Or Nick and Jess have nothing in common? None of those sound right to me. We can only hope that the reunion plays out nicely and in a way that makes sense. Otherwise, their entire journey will have been for nothing. 

Love is Fiction

So this is over a month and a half belated, but Happy Belated Birthday to @snow-into-ash! It’s become a part of my daily schedule to talk to you, friend and I couldn’t be happier. 

Also including this in Day Seven of CS AU WEEK. Writer!Emma and Librarian!Killian(Soft M toward the end and roughly 9700 words)

“Excuse me, where can I find books written by Chuck Palahniuk?” Emma looks up from her laptop screen to see the two new main characters in her story. If she were writing in script format there’d be some stage notes like ‘Enters the beautiful heroine, long dark locks and a thin physic. Evidently beautiful, but just doesn’t know it yet.’ There’d be a spotlight on her, a bright white light casting a shadow behind her that vaguely resembles angel wings or a halo. Something that says ‘this girl is it.’

And off to the left, the gorgeous, brooding librarian who hates his job as a shelver. He would be described as ‘tall, dark and handsome’ despite being close to the same height as the heroine who is also brunette. His spotlight would have some cool gel to it, creating the ambiance that he’s so blue and melancholy. Once the two meet in center stage, the whole scene illuminates, a row of library shelves behind them.

“We all die. The goal isn’t to live forever; the goal is to create something that will.” The hero is British. Big plus, these accents are doing insane things to YA sales, as if the kids could actually hear them.

“What?” The heroine misses the obvious quote. Emma rethinks putting that in her notes. She doesn’t particularly want another ditzy novel where the male protagonist is so smart and the female is just hot. Sure, she wants it to sell, but she wants to also inspire a nation. A book that will, to quote the male protagonist(and Chuck Palahniuk by extension), ‘Live forever.’

“It was a…ah, it’s all fiction and organized by Author’s last name, so row 8 should be PAA-PAW. I would say mid row, the third shelf, but I may be off a book or two.”

“Oh, you were quoting him. Great, I’m gonna use that in my report.” Annnnnd the heroine is still in high school. Time to count her out.

Emma goes back to the story at hand. She’s in the middle of writing some post-apocalyptic thriller about a group of gifted kids, similar to the x-men only everyone is human-passing, who divide up what’s left of a nation and decide to rule. It came to her after a three-day cleanse her roommate forced her to go on. You think up the craziest shit when you’re starving.

“Oh, is this book taken?” an older guy, early thirties, takes a seat instead of the book. “I love this author, have you read Catcher in the Rye?” There’s a copy of ‘Nine Stories by J.D Salinger’ on the table but she’s not reading it.

“Did I read Catcher in the Rye?” Emma gets hit on from time to time by older men. They prowl the library for women reading books they can comment on. She’s not one of those women. She doesn’t come to the library to read, she comes to write, and more importantly, to people watch.

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anonymous asked:

I assumed you were the kind of person that would speak to yourself or have a voice in your head when you're typing to see if the stuttering is accurate.

100% true.  Forced stuttering in dialogue drives me up the wall.  There was a sweet kid I used to go to school with who had a pretty significant stutter, and it got worse when he was nervous.  It all but went away (with some serious practice, I can only imagine) as our class grew older, but listening to him speak early on in my life familiarized me with how stutters tend to work.

Little tip to all writers – act out every bit of dialogue you’re writing.  If it sounds forced aloud, it sounds forced on the page.

anonymous asked:

can you explain all of the clexa inside joke things?

  • You’re the one™ -First words uttered. First meeting. 
  • Not Everyone Not You™ - Lexa said to Clarke coz she cares. 
  • The Nose Boop™ -when they kissed their nose booped. XD 
  • Commander Heart eyes™ Everytime she looks @ Clarke she gets this heart eyes. 
  • Raccoon™ - The war paint.
  • Alexandria “Lexa” Woods™ - Majority of the fanfic writers out there use this name for our commander in some AU’s or Alexendria as Lexa’s full name in canon fics
  • Jomp em op en yu jomp ai op™ - Attack her and you attack me. The Commander said this to Quint when he attacked Clarke
  • The Kiss™ -of course the first kiss. best kiss ever. They got an award!
  • Clexa pick up lines™ -just type clexa pick up lines on the search bar. :)
  • Lexa’s gunbitch™ - Alycia said this on one of her interviews and everybody’s like “I’m Lexa’s gunbitch.”
  • Soulmates™ - Clearly clexa are soulmates. it trended on twitter yass!
  • Clarke the Husband™ - My all time favorite *click the link* http://www.hypable.com/clarke-the-husband-lexa-fish-the-100/
  • Clarke’s hair™ - have you seen Clarke’s hair? there’s a colony of insects in there, 
  • Clarke needs a shower™ - Clearly. 
  • The Lexic Measurement™ ah yes. this is also one of my favorites, the clexa fandom lexic *click the link* system http://jeaspinchy.tumblr.com/post/138312691923/theoburr-wanheda-cywlyxn-wanheda-do
  • Clexa Trademarks™ - This ™ thing
  • Lexa’s candles™ - we believe that lexa is obsessed with her candles. Have you seen her room? 
  • Lexa the candle vlogger™ - The AU where Lexa is a candle vlogger on youtube
  • Commander’s tattoos™ - Damn right the commanders tattoos. *good shit* *good shit* 
  • Bitanic™ - “Draw me like one of your French girls.” Clarke draws Lexa like one of her raccoons.Season 3 eps 6. Also the actress tweeted about it before.  https://twitter.com/miselizajane/status/685741773839183872
  • The Spit™ - oooh it was gross. the spit trickled down lexa’s breast canal. hahaha *Clarke spits on Lexa (season 3 eps 2). 
  • Go float yourself™ - Clarke said to Lexa that she can go float herself (season 3 eps 3)
  • The Knife™ - Clarke’s knife on Lexa’s throat. gawd the tension. (Season 3 eps 3) 
  • The Balcony™ -Yes. Lexa kicking the ice nation guy off the Polis tower is my sexuality. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMtbEIuTm_s
  • Did it for my people™ - Everytime Clarke makes decisions she’s doing it for her people. Doing Lexa included.
  • The Bow™ - oh my golly banana bear my heart!!! Pt. 1
  • The Vow™  - oh my golly banana bear my heart!!! Pt. 2
  • THE BOW CHICKA WOW WOW™ - oh my golly banana bear my heart!!! Pt. 3 Clexa just got married Binches!  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OViju4UHf-Q
  • Gay ass violins™ - The background music when there’s a romantic clexa scene. (Season 3)
  • The Grounder Family™ -Clexa parents, Aden’s the son, Titus is Lexa’s Father figure. 
  • Titus going bald™ - Legend has it, He was stressing too much about Lexa. 
  • Clexa Kiss Anniversary™ 
  • She’s Special™ - Lexa said this to Titus “Clarke elevates herself. She’s Special.”
  • Oprah’s Bread™ - The advertisment. 
  • LEXA AND I™ - This was not in the script. It was added there by Eliza being the captain of the clexa ship and they decided to keep it. LEXA & I was a brilliant adlib by @MisElizaJane. She did it as scripted in every take but 1. That’s what I went with  @perolikedinah #the100″—  Jason Rothenberg
  • Wednesday Sin Day™ - Clexa smut on Wednesdays. XD blame @daddylexas
  • Jaha’s Kush™ - The CoL chip
  • Jerry™ - This is Jerry. *just click the link* ;)http://lambodoodle.tumblr.com/post/139703281201/lexa-tries-to-get-along-with-clarkes-friends-dearfrom @lambodoodle ’s artwork. You should check out them blog. It’s amazing. :) it’ll make you smile and forget the hurt for a while.
  • Lexa’s Nut™ - ask @daddylexas​ pt. 1 
  • Lexa’s Dick™ -  ask @daddylexas​ pt. 2 
  • Lextra™ - Lexa being an extra hoe with everything she does. 
  • Binch™ - This is what you call your fellow clexa stans. 
  • Maybe Someday™ - Maybe someday they will owe nothing more to their people. I crey. Just watch Season 3 eps 7
  • The Lip Quiver™ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d5ZuzB-92Pk
  • The Tear™ - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d5ZuzB-92Pk
  • Clexa Sexa™ - Damn right Clexa Sexaaaaa. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d5ZuzB-92Pk
  • Bottom Lexa™https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d5ZuzB-92Pk
  • The Great Gay Migration™ - The Clexa fandom migrating to Fear The Walking dead coz ALICIA CLARK IS THERE AND LEXA IS DEAD!!!! DO NOT TOUCH ME!!!!
  • Elyza Lex™ - The Clexa fandoms brilliant coping mechanism. Check the Lexark tag on Tumblr.
  • Lexark™ - The new born ship!!! Alycia Clark + Elyza Lex. I LIVE! 

anonymous asked:

Heya! Is there new great fics as derek a writer? i might have read them all hahah!

Hey :)

Here’s a few more, and the rest are here

You Got A Friend (With Benefits) In Me by  I_JustWokeUp | 20.8K

When Cora asks him to be her fake boyfriend, Stiles isn’t expecting to fall (so hard) for his best friend’s older brother.

If you asked me if I love him, I’d lie by  dereksstilinski (greyslittlediaries) | 37.3K

Derek has already typed the entire report out and even got all of the stuff prepared for the poster that Stiles and him will have to present. Derek found that he actually didn’t mind doing all the work when it was Stiles he was doing it for, but he wasn’t going to let Stiles get away completely. He was going to get Stiles to come over and help with the poster, so help him god.

the bucket list by  allhalethekings | 6.5K

When Derek was young, the only thing he ever wanted to do was travel. Ten years after leaving Beacon Hills for good, he finally has the chance. He just never expected to run into Stiles in Scotland, of all places.

Since I was a kid I really wanted an American Girl doll…for those who don’t know they are insanely expensive dolls for girls that are coupled with books about the dolls lives.

I always wanted Kit a girl from the 1930’s struggling to live through the depression. She wanted to be a writer and you could even get her a little type writer! 

My parents didn’t get me one because they were (and still are) insanely expensive. INSTEAD my parents got me the book series about Kit which I read over and over. 

This year, at the age of almost 21, my fiancee got me Kit for Christmas. As a I pulled the wrapping paper off the box and saw her face staring at me I started to cry. 

It’s more than just getting the doll. He remember me mentioning I wanted the doll, he understood how much it meant to me, he invested the money in buying me one. I’m an adult, we’re planning a wedding, and he still got me a doll and is encouraging and tolerating me buying clothes and being a little eccentric about the doll. 

I love him so fucking much. 

White Gaze did Miles Morales & Blackness Wrong

I’m typing this up all anxious so excuse the typos. Did yall see the recent issue of Miles Morales/ Afro-latinx spiderman being written by Michael Bendis? I have high hopes for characters like Miles but not when it’s written under white liberal bias view of blackness. In Spider-Man #2, the writer Michael Bendis gets the chance to insert Miles point of view on how he’s seen as the “Black Latino Spiderman” and drops the ball entirely. Peep:

I honestly don’t care about the Bendis fan appreciation that throws on they “I dont see a problem” goggles when he fucks up like this because this is a touchy sensitive subject for Black, Latinx, and Afro-Latinx folk who are constantly being erased in stories. What ever your personal views on the guy or his intent, forget it, his delivery of Blackness under white gaze failed Miles Morales badly and you can’t convince me otherwise unless he undoes this fuckshit in later issues that address the topic more maturely and further away from whiteness. Like I went into a heated discussion with my non black latino friend who was urging that because some non identifying Black, Latinx, Afro-Latinx folk exist (and I know they do trust me I come from a family of them) that should give Bendis enough reason to represent THAT type of Blackness to the world.


You can’t just give these white writers a pass just because you feel represented and like the space is welcome to you. Oh! they at least got Miles reppin his Latinx side tho!

Interesting so Bendis has him openly identifying as ‘Hispanic’ no problem (even though younger ‘Hispanics’ mostly identify as Latinx - not that other reagan ass moniker) while getting all weirded out that someone is praising him for not being another white super hero. He [Bendis] clearly made the youtuber/fangirl of this fact seem like an annoyance, like her point of view is too much for Miles (in reality Bendis though cause he writting him..). I don’t give a fuck, that fangirl is all of us Afro-Latinx, Black, Latinx folks who were jumping at the fact that they encompassed a bit of all of us in the new Spiderman. She had every right to be excited of seeing a Spiderman that was Brown/Black, that’s a real world reaction of today! That was sadly minimized to a supposedly annoying caricature of fans. It’s unfair to those of us who have been clamoring to be represented. Most fucking government applications wont even acknowledge we exist, give us a damn break! It’s a slap in the face to those of us who already deal with that Miles Morales set up where you weren’t excited about being Black.

You coulda tactfully used those pages to incite excitement in other little Black babies and grown folk in general about being Black but nah you chose that white liberal garbage “Why does it matter?! Blackness should be nonexistent in anything ever cause make me uncomfortable when it are not about me!!”. It’s so aggravating. Marvel needa stop letting white people write Black characters if they’re gonna make us into the people they wanna see rather than who we actually wanna be. Like it’s so easy to be far removed from this issue and read right past it but it’s like how many times are you gonna allow yourself to be erased cause it makes a white person more comfortable to box Blackness into simplicity? I’m so tired of this and I’m more tired at the fans who jump at us for trying to talk about this. Give Miles Morales his Blackness back.

Confession that was deleted by another blog

I have an issue with black men that think just because a women is physically strong, she wants to be a man. Just because she can defend herself without calling her brothers/guy cousins, that she think she is a man. What gives you the right as a man to put your hands on me and not expect me to two piece your shit??
Some black men in this society are a major issue. They won’t tell their bros that they are wrong for hitting a women. Alot of times they think its funny, but those same men will be quick to tell a woman she is out of line for striking back. I was in a situation where I was attacked by a man and when I fought back and got the best of him, he had the nerve to try and shake my hand while chanting “yooo, I respect you. Thats wassup, you fought back” WTF?!. Like what type of mental disorder did he have to only respect me when I defended myself against him. Why couldnt he just respect me as a women, so in return I could respect him as a man. Annddd what or who in the world told you that feminity or the female denotes weakness?? Why would you think only men are allowed to get aggressive? !

(I know, this isnt edited)


The Struggle for Poison Ivy’s Soul

[Poison Ivy fighting Grimm from Poison Ivy: Cycle of Life and Death #6]

Who is she?

Oh, most people can put a name to her. She’s been around for 50 years now, and she had prominent roles in most of Batman’s animated series–BTAS especially. Uma Thurman famously camped it up in the absolutely terrible Batman and Robin so she has surprising mainstream name recognition for a character who, let’s face it, is considered by many Batfans to be in the same tier as other themed/gimmick rogues like Maxi Zeus or Mr. Freeze.

She’s been DC’s goto character for decades when they need a female villain– one who uses her femininity and sexuality as a weapon but cringes and goes down with a single punch when Wonder Woman or Batgirl gets hold of her (seriously this trope was used as recently as Lego Justice League: Gotham City Breakout–”you wouldn’t hit a woman would you?” it’s 2016!) There is a Little Golden Book where Wonder Woman and Batgirl foil her dastardly schemes.

[Cover of Flower Power]

She’s insanely popular with cosplayers, often nearing the Deadpool, Harley, Joker trifecta. She sells a ton of statues and is often a cornerstone of the lines. She was one of the first four Bombshells statues, for instance. She was selected to be one of DC Superhero Girls initial 7, wave one of the action figures and dolls, and has featured prominently in the webisodes and promotional material, and it’s worth pointing out she was chosen ahead of several more traditional heroes, like Black Canary or Catwoman. It’s very clear she has fans and a fanbase.

[Ivy as Hero of the Month from DC Superhero Girls]

But who is she really? Who was she? Who is she now? Where is she going?

These are the questions DC is desperately trying to answer. It’s becoming more and more apparent there are disputing views among the company, and right now is ground zero. This is the hill where the battle for Poison Ivy’s identity–the soul of the character–will take place. She’s teetering and could fall any one of several directions. All it will take is a little push, and this is why it’s so important for her fans to double down and not surrender.

I’ve recapped her history before so I’ll skip that phase but i will say this. Up til the early 90s ivy was pretty much a gimmick Bat villain–a strawman feminist that gave Bruce an easy way to punch feminism and activism in the face. She was a man-hater, a whackjob who thought the environment was more important than human progress, a woman getting between Batman and his totally non-homoerotic relationship with his young ward and getting her gross girl cooties all over their manly adventures. she was crazy and she belonged in Arkham. 

Except she didn’t.

Greg Rucka saw something more in her, and while the dust was settling over the No Man’s Land arc, he snuck in a story where the crazy woman took in the orphans of Gotham and cared for them and was willing to die for them. Woah.

[ivy speaking to the park orphans after Batman reasoned with her to not martyr herself]

Change? Character development? Sympathetic motivations? What’s this doing in my funny book?

It wasn’t consistent. She was still the crazy sex bomb in the Animated Series and Hush…but the idea was there. The seeds were planted (of course there would be plant puns somewhere in this.)

Then along came Gail Simone. Yeah, THAT Gail. She wrote an Ivy that showed a side of her we’d never seen–one that was afraid, that was trying to reach out and didn’t know how. A vulnerable one. 

[pages from Batgirl Annual 2]

That single book is probably the beginning of #PoisonIvyLeague. It’s a perfect encapsulation of one of the possible fates Poison ivy is facing. The recent miniseries by Amy Chu continued this more complex, nuanced Ivy. Featuring an Ivy who had difficulty relating to other people, the narrative is driven by her decision to try and make others like herself. This Ivy is brilliant but lonely and she steps into a mess doing something she can but probably shouldn’t. 

So now that we’re caught up, let’s ask the question–ultimately what this post is about. Where do we go from here? What is Poison Ivy’s ultimate fate?

For the past 20 years, Ivy has been linked to Harley Quinn–at first platonically (with a lot of nudges and winks they were something more) and then more romantically. It’s nearly impossible to be an Ivy fan and not deal with Harley in some capacity. They were teammates during the run of Gotham City Sirens and the only consistent place Ivy has appeared in the last several years is the Harley Quinn solo book–though her appearance there is a shadow of herself, like someone has a cardboard cutout of her to move into the scene when Harley needs a plot point explained or triggered. Harley is mentioned as Ivy’s only friend in the aforementioned book Gail wrote and she appears in the miniseries in the first issue where she picks a fight and storms off in a huff.

Like any couple, when people get invested in it, the individual members of the couple become consumed by the pairing. For Harley, this is no big deal. She appears without Ivy in Suicide Squad and in her solo book the focus is always about her, as it should be. Let’s face it, DC is desperately slapping her on everything they can to sell her as much as possible, so she has a multitude of appearances, constantly. Ivy doesn’t enjoy this kind of popularity, so many of her appearances involve Harley and it’s growing harder and harder to enjoy the character of Poison Ivy on her own.

Many fans are ok with this.

To them, Ivy is ½ of a couple and nothing more. They are content with her appearances in Harley and many loudly try to shout down requests to see Ivy as a fully realized individual in a solo outing. This is one of the fates Poison Ivy is facing–to forever be the girlfriend and have little to no personality or narrative of her own.

Then, of course, there are those who dislike seeing her change. For decades Ivy was the poster child for the femme fatale archetype–the wicked woman who used her beauty to seduce, manipulate, control, and destroy and Batman–the most blatant audience insertion character ever created–got to enjoy the attentions of this gorgeous villain, but being too iron willed to succumb to her charms, always resists and captures her, putting her in her place. There is no place for a woman who is not submissive in Batman’s (the white male adolescent audience’s) world. Of course Ivy, like Catwoman, was thoroughly in love with him, because all women in Gotham want Batman (the audience.)

Trying to change this paradigm is like trying to swim upstream. The alt-right types in the audience staunchly combat any suggestion that she is more than a piece of ass for Batman (them) to lust over but ultimately control and defeat. For them, Ivy needs to return to her crazy, sexy self. Ivy needs to be a dastardly gimmick villain–the only difference between ivy and Calendar Man is that she’s got a nice rack for cheesecake artists to depict in all their spine twisting glory.

Trust me, it’s no accident that in the recent Miller The Last Crusade book, Ivy defies Batman’s authority so he makes a funny quip while choking her unconscious.

Many DC writers only think of Ivy as a villain, and any attempt to redeem her is countered. She suffers from wildly inconsistent writing. The less said about the way Dini writes her, the better.

So this is another fate Ivy faces. Cliche sexy villain. 

Of course there is a fine line one walks with Ivy. There are certain people who want to see her desexualized completely. All female sexuality is BAD in their eyes, and Ivy, in her barely there plant outfits, is certainly vulnerable to oversexualization, but sex is in Ivy’s DNA. Modeled after Bettie Page, she is a fetish character, that can’t be denied. Is it so wrong for a woman to be a sexual being? Is it a terrible thing for a woman to own and revel in her sexual power?

As a practicing Domme, a fetishist, and an alt lifestyler, Poison Ivy represents me in a way literally no other character in comics does. I know several sex workers–fetish models, Dommes, etc–who name Ivy as an inspiration. They’re out here, and they need heroes too. Representation matters. Always.

How will this battle for Ivy’s soul go? Can we win?

We want to see an Ivy that we’ve only gotten glimpses of–an Ivy who is a complex mix of brilliance, power, sexuality, anxiety, narcissism, passion, apathy, and rage–In short, a fully realized person. We want an Ivy who means well but makes mistakes–an Ivy that gets in her own way. We want an Ivy who is intelligent and disciplined but sometimes loses her temper. We want an Ivy who is unashamed and unapologetic about her femininity, her sexuality, and her Dominance. We want an Ivy who refuses to play by other’s rules but defies the simple label of villain. We want an Ivy that is as brilliant a scientist as Lex Luthor but occasionally wears heels and garters and corsets and makes it all work.

We want an Ivy that we can disagree with each other about details but that we’re proud and humbled to be a fan of.

I believe this is the real soul of Ivy, and I am prepared to fight this battle. She’s too fantastic a character to give up on. She’s too important to allow others to reduce her to a pale imitation of what she should be. I invite you–implore you–to fight with us and help us make DC understand that we aren’t just fans of Poison Ivy,

We are all Poison Ivy.

[badass panel of Ivy from Cycle of Life and Death]

It’s showtime.


HEADCANNON: Nico lands himself in the camp infirmary because he got badly injured from border patrol duty fighting off a monster so one of the Apollo campers temporarily gives him mortal meds to ease his pain because they ran out of godly-type meds and Nico accidentally gets as high as Olympus. Then Will and all of Nico’s friends rush in the moment he starts giggling and confessing all sorts of stuff.

*wink wink*


Trust Me pt.2

Tags: @from2016​, @megant22, @sexywolfsfordays, @houseofrahl, @sterek-basically, @kittycatgirlmaddie, @misshinehou, @unbreakablevoices, @champagneblues, @dallysgreasergirl, @juliaspnlover, @cineyou, @lipstickstainsandwerewolfchains, @fallenangel-13x

Word count: 2702

Author’s note: It’s still absolutely stunning to me that so many of you enjoyed Trust Me! I honestly wasn’t expecting such a positive response to it, I thought only a few of you would like a TWD AU, so it was a pleasant surprise to me to find I was wrong about it. I hope the second part won’t be a letdown to anyone! I tried to keep the story as interesting as the first part was :)

Warnings: mentions of murder

Your name: submit What is this?

The clearing is enlightened by rays of sunshine. The blades of grass are bending, submissive to the wind as it licks over them in waving strokes. In the middle, there’s a camper, and on the top of it, there’s Allison sitting with a bow braced against her chair, binoculars in hand, scanning the trees with a hawk’s eye for the slightest of inconsistencies to warn us in time should a zombie wander by. Scott is next to her to keep her company while being on watch, the two of them talking, trading stories, entertaining each other on the job.

This morning, I decided not to wear the uniform jacket – it’s Derek’s after all, and I’m not intend to take his clothes from him. Even though Derek chose to wear a black set, adorned by a grey scarf wrapped around his neck, I didn’t do anything with that jacket besides emptying its pockets.

I take a walk around the camp – the tents are a couple metres away from each other; neither too far nor too close, just enough to provide privacy and allowing us to appear to help if needed. I wander for a couple minutes before getting away to grant myself solitude. I walk until the only thing I can hear are the cicadas in the grass. There, I drop down to sit at the bottom of a tree between its thick roots in the shadow it casts, picking at the weeds nearby. I allow my thoughts to flood my head and I try to scratch at the wall in my mind that’s blocking me from my memories, with not much success however.

I’m startled out of my daydreaming when someone asks, “May I join you?”

Looking up, my eyes meet an icy blue pair accompanied by an innocent-looking smirk. I reciprocate it with a smile on my own before nodding, “Sure.”

He plops down directly next to me, gaze fixed on the rest of the group as they are puttering around. He’s apparently deep in thought, so I’m not intend to disturb him, but he speaks up.

“I heard you had an accident yesterday?”

“Yes,” I answer, voice just this side of wary. Why does he want to talk about that? He says, “I’m sorry about that.” I shrug and instead of replying, I keep tearing out the weeds from the ground, making a cloud of dust erupting from the surface.

“How much do you remember?” he keeps asking, and based on the fact that his tone is louder, he’s turned his head to face me. I look back at him as I speak, “Not much. I know I was involved in an accident because I was in the flipped car, but I can’t even recall how it happened. If it weren’t for me waking up there, I wouldn’t even know I crashed. My memories from before are blurry; I know I was a member of a group, which I assume is the one I’m in at the moment, but I have no idea what life was like for me.”

“I’m Peter,” he says suddenly, and I bark out a surprised laugh at that. I accept the hand that he stuck out towards me to shake. “(Y/N).”

He offers me a half smile, telling me with a cheeky grin, “I know.”

For some reason, his response chases a smile to my lips again, and I avert my eyes from his, tilting my head forward to look at the ground shyly. He pushes closer to me, his shoulder touching mine as he says, “Everyone has a role around here.”

“What’s mine?” I ask, perking up at that piece of information. I’m grateful someone is trying to help me fit in by cluing me in to the group’s life.

Peter takes in my entire face before answering, “You’re the paramedic.”

“Me?” I squeak, heart suddenly suffocatingly beating in my throat. “But I have no idea how to stitch someone, let alone pop a broken bone back into place!”

“Ever heard of subconscious skills?” I shake my head. “It happens when you’re so familiar with an activity that your body knows instinctively on its own how to do it without you having to think about it. For instance, a type writer will be able to type anything you tell them with their eyes closed, but they won’t be able to tell you what buttons they push with their index fingers. Or a system administrator won’t remember passwords unless they are sitting in front of the computer. You got my point?”

Pursing my lips, I nod to him, ever so slow. He wraps an arm around me and taps my shoulder encouragingly. “That’s my good girl,” he praises, throwing me for a loop. What’s that phrase supposed to mean? I’m already opening my mouth to ask him about it, but Derek’s voice beats me to speaking up.

“Peter!” His tone couldn’t be closer to an aggressive snap, it startling me so much my entire body shivers with it. His eyes are nearly blazing when I look at him. “Go help Stiles, Lydia and Malia collect wood. We’re running short of it.”

A low growl rumbles through Peter’s chest as he reluctantly slides his arm off of me and stands, maintaining eye contact with his nephew as he approaches him and walks pass him. Derek’s jaw is clenched with suppressed fury, nostrils flared with held-back yells. He stops Peter with a hand on his chest, practically shoving a gun into his ribcage, hissing out between his teeth, “Don’t forget to take a weapon.”

Peter shoots him a mocking smirk, taking the pistol from Derek, saying, “I appreciate your worry, but I can take care of myself.”

Peter walks away, but Derek stays. He looks between me and the camp before opting to make a beeline for me. He cowers down in front of me with a concerned expression, eyes roaming my face for any sign of harm – but his uncle didn’t hurt me. Why is he so worried? He brushes away a stray strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear gently.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, tone meek this time, the stark opposite of what it was like when he was talking to his own blood. I lift my shoulders slowly, further nestling myself into my spot between the roots, making myself comfortable.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. I have no idea how I’m feeling, or how I’m supposed to feel at the moment. I feel normal but I feel nothing at all, too. I feel anxious, I feel frustrated, I feel like tearing my hair out for not being able to recall anything from before the crash, I feel hatred, I feel depressed, I feel unsettled, I feel helpless, I feel vulnerable. I feel like lamenting and I feel like screaming, but I also feel like shutting my mouth forever. I feel a lot of things, but also nothing at the same time.

“Are you hungry? Food’s almost done,” he offers, cocking his head to the side to grant himself a better view of my face. I could puke at the mere thought of meat. I shake my head, pursing my lips tightly. “Is something wrong?”

I lick my lips, contemplating whether I should tell him about my premonition or not. Reaching into the pocket of my hoodie, I squeeze the leafs of pills I found in the jacket last night when I woke up in the car. In the end, I settle for letting Derek know about my supposed condition – after all, he’s the leader, and he should know about any kind of… liability.

Derek’s POV

“I… I’m not sure about this, so this might be just a flu, or something,” (Y/N) starts tentatively, clearly afraid of what she has to share with me. Was she bitten after all? “I… don’t feel quite good, and I have no idea why it is.” Is she at the beginning of the metamorphosis? Is she simply sick? Did she catch a cold? Does she have a temperature? “I found these in my pockets yesterday,” she says, pulling the pills out to show them to me. My eyes widen as soon as I notice them – I’ve seen these before when Heather got pregnant after the apocalypse began. Taking them from (Y/N) and turning them around to see what’s written on their back, I’m reassured.

These are abortion pills.

Suddenly everything makes sense. Suddenly the fact that she’d been leaving the tent early in the mornings before the accident has a logical explanation; she had been leaving before because she knew the baby is mine, but she didn’t want to tell me about it. Now, without her memories, she shared her secret with me without intending to, not even having a clue that her premonition about being pregnant is correct.

I can’t tell her I know the ultimate answer to her condition – that would let her know who’s the father, and I told her we’ve never slept together, just decided to share a bed for reasons we have no control over. I could just tell her to take the pills because they will treat her flu, but that would also mean I would make a choice that the two of us should make. The baby is ours. Not just hers, and not just mine. Ours.

I slide the leafs into the pockets of my trousers and offer her my hand to help her up, mentally cursing the timing of the events – she’s at a loss of her memories at this time, of all moments! She looks at my palm, but shakes her head at it, saying quietly, “I want to stay.”

I try not to order her to follow me to make sure she’s within an arm’s reach and safe – safe with me –, albeit it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.

At least Peter is nowhere near her for now.

I keep reminding myself of that to help myself settle enough to abandon her. Even then, when I’m back at our camp, I can’t help but sneak glances at her to make sure nothing bloodthirsty is lurking around her.

Reader’s POV

I stay sat at the bottom of the tree, allowing my eyes to fall shut and my head to loll back against the crust, listening to the fresh sound of the softly blowing wind as it brushes over the grass. I pull my legs up and lay my arms over them, giving in to the nature encompassing me. It’s peaceful, but there’s a constant dark shadow overhead, not letting the alive rest, reminding us that this peace is ephemeral and horrible things can happen soon.

My fingers tentatively smooth over the tiny metal chain around my neck, leading to my chest under the oversized T-shirt I have on. I draw it out from under the fabric and hold it up in front of my face to have a closer look at it. It’s a dog tag with my name, blood type and date of birth on it, accompanied by a bullet. It goes into a sniper rifle, that much I know, but I have no idea why I wear it as a pendant.

After a while, when the heavy scent of meat has vanished, I stand and approach the camp. I walk straightly to Derek, fidgeting with my fingers. He’s busy putting the remains of the fire out, and I clear my throat to earn his attention. He straightens up and turns around to look at me, a highly expectant expression on his face, waiting for me to tell him what he can help me with.

“What can I do?” I ask, but he shakes his head dismissively.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he says.

“But I want to be useful,” I say, tone just this side of accusing. Why won’t he let me help? Why won’t he let me add to the life of the group? Why does he think I’m a helpless lost flower among meat-eating plants? Why is he treating me that way? I maintain eye contact with Derek to try and prove him I’m serious about this. In the end, he rubs the bridge of his nose, letting an exasperated sigh escape his lips. He nods slowly, mumbling, “All right.”

He puts his hands on his hips, looking around, apparently planning how to accommodate to my wish. Derek says, “I’m sending Allison and Scott to hunt. I’m not allowing you to be alone, so I need you to stay by my side. I’m guessing you don’t know how to defend yourself on your own, which is why I can’t let you out of my sight.”

“Okay,” I nod, accepting his conditions without a second thought.

“For the time being, you and I are going to keep watch. As soon as the others are back, I’m going with you to teach you shooting and martial arts.”

“Thank you,” I smile, and when Derek returns the gesture, I can feel my cheeks heating up, so I quickly avert my gaze. The next moment, Derek’s warm palm settles on the small of my back to meekly lead me to the camper where Allison and Scott are. He sends them away, then ushers me to climb up to the top on the metal ladder on the side of the vehicle, with him following behind. He puts the binoculars in my hands after gesturing to me to sit, whereas he sets the assault rifle next to himself, checking the magazine to make sure it’s fully loaded, before taking the chair next to mine.

“Can you tell me about the year we spent together?” I request, to which he nods and says, “Sure.”

There are a few beats of silence, then his low voice breaks it, “You joined us at the hospital. You were there because your father worked there as a doctor, and you took lunch for him, but he was too busy with the many sick people being transported there. All of them suffered from temperature and they were coughing. Bite marks were found on each one of them. Then the fresh corpses that were taken to the hospital got up and attacked people. That’s how it started for us, back in Beacon Hills.”

All of a sudden, a rush of pictures come flashing up in my mind, but they are gone as fast as they came, disabling me from registering what’s going on in them. I can’t acknowledge my abrupt memories. Two words stay, though. “Beacon Hills?” I ask. “That sounds familiar.”

Derek smiles at me. “I’m glad to hear that.”

To look away from his face to try to conceal my embarrassment, I lift the binoculars to my eyes to check the area. No movement. He clears his throat before going on, “I took you there from the train station. You returned from college that day, and I drove to pick you up myself.”

“So we were… friends?”

“You could say that,” he answers after a beat, running his tongue over his lower lip thoughtfully previously. His reply is vague and ambiguous as ever, making me arch a brow. I proceed to ask what’s that supposed to mean, but he goes on before I could get even one word out. “I managed to take you out of the hospital, but your father was already…”

“I understand,” I croak out, heart clenching in my chest.

“So we gathered the others. Scott, Allison and Lydia were home from college too, and Isaac and Erica were picked up from the local bar that they worked at. Allison’s father was with us initially, but a while ago, he sacrificed himself for his daughter. We got stuck in a warehouse with a corridor full of walkers,” he adds by way of an explanation. “Since then, Allison’s been driving their camper.”

“How many people have we lost so far?”

“Three,” Derek says without having to think about the answer. “They are Chris, Allison’s father, Boyd, and Heather.”

We fall silent again, and I rake my gaze over the glade again through the binoculars. That was more than enough information in one go.

The Short View

The other night I was out with my husband Sam and some of the people he knows through work. One of them, a very pleasant professional type, turned to me and asked “Do you work?”

My response was the honest mixed-bag truth: I’m a writer, podcaster, and ex-teacher who recently started a cookie business.

The cookie business was what got her attention. Her eyes lit up. “Am I going to be seeing you on Shark Tank?”

“God, I hope not. If they said anything critical I’d start crying.” She laughed.

“Where do you see this business ending up?” she asked. “Are you taking it big?”

I had to think about this. I guess most people go into business with an end goal in mind. “Maybe someday, but actually, I like making the cookies myself.”

I kept talking but she’d clearly lost interest in me as a business owner. But that’s okay. It was still an instructive moment. I learned that starting a cookie business eclipses writing or teaching as a conversation-starter. I also discovered I am not your typical entrepreneur. I am not focused on an endpoint, but enjoying where I am now. Mostly, I’m just happy baking cookies.

How I Organise My Projects/Essays

I have 4 projects going on right now and two of them are due next week. I know I am only a high school student but I hope this would help other people who are struggling with organising contents! This method is what I always use and I have never got anything other than the perfect score on organisation or contents part on my projects I have ever had.

1. Write down or type what the teacher is looking for.

You can look at the rubric if you have one and write down what it says. For example, my Bible teacher gave me a little “essay” for this weekend. On the paper he gave me it says “Write 3 paragraph essay that answers the following: 1) Summarize the writing and what it says about the resurrection  2) Describe who their assigned writer is  3) Reflect on how this can impact what someone might think about the resurrection.” For the first step I’d type all these three contents with different font, size or colour. You can highlight them too if you want.

2. Gather information for each category you just wrote.

Now it’s time to gather information you need for your project. If it’s research-required you should gather information from appropriate and proper resources (”Wikipedia is not your friend” -my world history teacher). But don’t try to make it perfect sentence and paragraph yet! Just copy and paste from the source(s) and list them with bullet points or numbers under each category. If it’s something from the paper you are given by teachers be ready to catch the sentences and phrases that can answer the categories.

3. Based on the information from the research, write down a paragraph (or paragraphs) under each category.

After you finish the step 2, you might have all the information you need to starts writing. So, starts writing! Now you can turn the phrase into a sentence and show your writing skills.

4. Remember to write in your own words instead of ctrl-c and ctrl-v all the sentences and paragraphs from your resources.

I am sure teachers don’t like it if your essay is full of ctrl-c and ctrl-v from your sources. Yes, there should be some sentences and ideas from your sources but that doesn’t mean that you should cover your whole paragraph with the sentences from your source. Your opinion and idea are important too!

5. Cross out or delete the categories from the step 1.

Now you have your project almost ready. So, delete those categories because you don’t turn in the paper with the guidelines on it.

6. Read through your not-so-perfect essay or project and modify/add/polish your writing.

Reread, reread, and reread your essay (it does’t have to be three times just because I put ‘reread’ three times). See if there is any grammar mistake, awkward sentence, or right transition. Polish your writing so that your teacher won’t find your writing awkward or lack of something.

8. Print out that project you have worked so hard. Yay!

“You’ve always had someone to come home to” translation = “it’s all about me and please forget that you’re about to die” and “I only want you when you’re with other girls like Patty, Linda, friendship with Caitlin leaving the potential for more” “I want you now because you don’t want me” Why is Iris written so manipulating? And man I am SO sick of The CW promoting this kind of woman as someone to root for the hero. I can’t get behind that fucked up speech she made. I’m with Barry when he said “why are you telling me this now?!” I wanna know that too. She seems like the type of person who would break his heart as soon as she got bored of him.
—  Anonymous

guess who still has lots of thoughts on a show she gave up years ago!!!

the thing is that knowing this was their plan since pretty much day one (or 2006) makes a couple things clearer in retrospect, but not in a good way

1) it explains the fact that they kept flogging the dead horse that was Ted/Robin long after everyone in the viewing audience had ceased to care and despite the fact that it never got a very positive response from those viewers

and 2) it explains the terrible way they dealt with Barney/Robin, which was an organically-created ship that ultimately had to be sacrificed in order for Carter/Bays to stick to The Plan. typing that it actually reminds me a little of Twilight, where in New Moon it became plainly obvious to me that a) Jacob was a much better match for Bella, and b) Jacob would never be allowed to be that match for Bella, and so the Jacob/Bella relationship had to be immediately and thoroughly destroyed (which it was, when he became every bit as creepy and controlling as Edward and then decided he wanted to bone her five-year-old-lookin’ infant)

I always liked Barney/Robin mainly because I thought they would make sense, and I thought the development it gave Barney especially was refreshing to see. Barney was not Ted Mosby, and he would not guilt Robin for wanting to put her career first or for not wanting a big chapel wedding or children. Barney, frankly, seems like exactly the type of guy who would be happy to follow his internationally-successful wife around the globe having adventures.

But when Barney/Robin got together it became pretty clear to me that the writers did not know how to write a relationship like Barney/Robin, and in retrospect I see it’s because they never wanted to. They have Lily lock them in a room in order to force them to admit they are “boyfriend and girlfriend” because Lily – like the writers – can’t conceive of an adult relationship that has even the complexity of Facebook relationship statuses. They put them together for a handful of episodes only to break them up in a single episode because they made each other “fat and ugly”. They wanted Barney to be his season 1 one-joke self for all eternity. They threw Barney/Robin fans a bone every once in a while but constantly went back on it – he burned the playbook! just kidding, he straight-up lied, but it’s ok, Robin likes lies!

So in that sense I feel like I shouldn’t be very surprised they devoted an entire season pandering to Barney/Robin shippers only to torpedo the ship entirely in 5 minutes in the finale to make way for Ted/Robin, the relationship they’ve clearly always believed Robin should have wanted and was a fool to give up. If that meant Barney had to suddenly become inexplicably unadventurous – I hate travelling the world with my beautiful wife! – and Robin had to be punished for career success with over a decade of isolation and loneliness, so be it! Ted Mosby has to get the happy ending they conceived of years ago with the one who almost got away but ultimately couldn’t escape. How sweet.

Hey! I love your blog!!! Do you think you could do a fic where you play j^2’s little sister on the show and you have to do HW on set/in your trailer and jensen helps you? Lilke maybe he quizzes you, takes ur phone away when you get distracted, but he’s really sweet and willing to help? Sorry if that didnt make much sense. Thanks so much! Youre such a good writer!

A/N: sorry if this sucks, but I really did try! Please send in more requests! I love writing your ideas!

Jensen and Jared had just finished their bloody scene together. Camera crews worked frivolously to create new marks for the next scene, makeup crews crowded the men to wipe off the fake blood on the mens’ faces, and other employees left to find food for their lunch break.

“Alright boys,” Jensen and Jared’s director approach the two as the makeup artists finish cleaning the boys’ faces. “Catch your breath and look over your lines. We’ll start your scene with Y/N and Misha in an hour.”

“Ah, thank you,” Jensen takes a wet towel from one of the ladies and rubs his neck. “Did Y/N come in yet? I haven’t scene her.”

“I’m not sure,” Jared shrugs. “I tried texting her last night to see if she needed a ride into today. She never answered.”

“Huh,” Jensen pursed his lips and walked off the moving scene. He pulled out his phone from his back pocket and dialed your number. As he walked through different set doors, he asked anyone who walked by him, “Hey have you busy seen Y/N? No? Hey, have you…okay…never mind.” He hung up the phone when you didnt answer. 

Jensen walked over to your trailer that was directly across from his. He hanged his fist against your door, “Y/N, you in there? It’s Jensen!”

You jumped from your sleep at your kitchen table which was littered with books, paper, and pencils. You rubbed your face as a inhumane growl purred from your throat. You check the time on your phone, 11:53. You slowly walk to your trailer door.

Jensen, in his bloody plaid shirt and washed out face, squints in the sunlight at you. “What are you doing?”

You walk away from the door, silently inviting him in. You stand on your tippy toes to grab a glass for water. “I thought they didn’t need me until 12:30.” Jensen walked up behind you, touched the small of your back, and easily grabbed the glass for you.

“They don’t,” he hands the glass to you with a smirk. You take it with a playful glare. “But Jared and I were getting worried about you. He said you werent answering him all last night.”

“Oh, yeah,” you ran a hand through your hair. “I was trying to get some homework done and then I crashed kind of early.”

Jensen walked over to your messy table and sat down in your seat. He pulled your computer closer to him and scrolled through your one page paper that needs to be five by tomorrow. His eyebrows scrunch with every word. “I read this yesterday. Are you saying you haven’t gotten past this point?”

“Ugh,” you leaned over the counter and closed your eyes, taking deep breaths to hold in your tears. Jensen looked up at you in shock, no realizing how much stress you were under. “I have stared at that computer for the past four days and I have come up with nothing. It’s due tomorrow, and I have an english test on Monday.”

“Woah, okay, okay, one thing at a time.” Jensen held up a hand. “I was an excellent writer in high school–”

“You almost got held back.”

“Ha, almost being the key word there,” Jensen pointed at you with a smirk. “Come on, just let me try and help you.”

You sigh, “Fine.”

“What class is this for?” 


“The teacher is giving you a five page paper and a test in the same week. That’s crap.”

“I know!”

“Okay…now what is this paper about?” Jensen bites his lip, his fingers are ready to type away. But he gets no response. He looks up to see you typing away on your phone, paying him no attention. “Y/N.” Still nothing. 

He sighs and walks over to you, grabbing your phone despite your protests. “Hey!”

“Nope. You can get this back when you’re done your paper.” To prove his point, he drops the phone in his back jeans pocket and slaps his bottom to emphasize. 

“Really?” Jensen nods. “I’ll reach down your pants and get my phone if I have to. We’re on season 11, not 1.”

“Just shut up and sit down.” You sigh and plop down next to him. “Okay, so you have to write a fictional story about the industrial revolution and you started by…” Jensen re reads over your story again. He slowly looks at you. “By plagiarizing the plot of the first season of supernatural.”

You open your mouth in astonishment. “What? No! There are no ghosts or demons in the plot.”

“You wrote about a young boy and his two younger sisters, who are looking for their father, the owner of an textile mill. The oldest sister is a kiss ass and does whatever the father says, and the second sister is a rebel against her fathers’ wishes.”

“I highly doubt my teacher watches the show. He’s a fifty year old widow.” Jensen deleted the entire document. You jumped from your seat and screamed, “What the fuck, J!”

“We’re going to do this right, okay? Now, sit down and stop whining.”

You and Jensen brainstormed and wrote endlessly for a half an hour before you had to go on set. And when were on set, you would express a new idea after each “Cut”. You found a stray piece of paper and wrote down all your and Jensen’s ideas as you were supposed to be acting. You’re entire crew was ready to kill you, but school comes first, and they know that.

After the final “Cut”, you and Jensen raised to your trailer to speed type your paper. By 9 o’clock, after going back and forth, you were on page four, moving on to page five. 

You leaned against the wall, tossing a tennis ball at the wall having it bounce back at you, and repeated the action. Jensen sat at your computer typing away.

“Okay, we just need an ending.”

“How about, they all die,” you suggest.

“That’s a bit morbid,” Jensen crinkles his nose.

You laugh, “It would easiest.”

“I got an idea,” Jensen frivolously types away at your computer for the next twenty minutes without interruptions. At the final dramatic click he turns the computer over to you for you to read. 

“Blah blah blah blah….and the little girl realized how important it is to not procrastinate because procrastination leads to irresponsible actions and those actions lead to stress. The girl changed her life around to become organized and studious….” You look up at Jensen, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

“It works,” he smiles. “Submit it.”

“Fine,” You hit the submit button and rush to give him a huge hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Dude, next time, just ask me to help you. We could have gotten this done last week.”

“You’re right. For now on, I’ll come to you with all my papers if I need help.”

“That a girl,” Jensen smirks.

“Wanna help me study for my english test this weekend in Vancouver?” You ask with an innocent smile.

“Sure, kid.”

Jensen walks towards the door before stopping. He pats his rear pocket and slowly turns around to face you with a questioning look.

You smirk up at him with your phone in your hand. “I told you it wouldnt stop me.”

Jensen walks over with a devious smile. “Oh, is that how it is.” 

You get up from your seat, “No, no, no!”

He grabs your waist and spins your around until you’re both on the floor. Your phone tumbles on the ground. You fight each other, slowly corralling towards the phone. Both of you are laughing hysterically, clawing for the winning prize. 

“Hey, Y/N, I was just…” Jared walked in and stopped in his tracks as he watched the two of you freeze under his stare. He rolls his eyes, “I don’t even want to know.” He goes to your fridge, grabs a water, and leaves without another word.

You lay on your back next to J and huff out a breath. “Hey, J?”


“Wanna drive me home?” You smile.

He playfully hits your head and gives a helping hand to help you stand. “Come on,” He sighs playfully.

You laugh the entire way home, getting ready for another long day tomorrow.