Ignite

Fifty-two || Wagon of Weirdos

Hello! How are you all?

(Okay I'm just gonna say that I absolutely adore you all, because "frolicking" is like a thing now in the comments, and I confess, I frolicking love you guys to death)

OKAY WEEKLY STORY TIME alright so it snowed where I live, not the giant thing that hit the D.C area or whatever, but we got a couple inches, right? So anyway, I gotta shovel. So I'm shoveling, doing my thing, and then I notice my neighbor's car isn't in her driveway. So there's a bunch of snow in it with all the built up slush and stuff from the plow and whatnot. I feel bad, you know, like what if she comes home and can't get the car in over that and I don't know, I just felt bad. So I start to shovel her driveway but I've already shoveled my other neighbor's driveway (for money that time) and I'm getting super tired and I just want to go inside and drink cocoa and watch the X-Files so I've got about 1/4 of her driveway done. So I'm standing in her 1/4 shoveled driveway, sorta contemplating crying because I'm such an idiot, and then this voice goes, "Ma'am, are you okay?" and it's the PLOW GUYS THAT SHE HIRED TO PLOW HER DRIVEWAY and I'm so mad and then the driver's like "May I ask what you're doing?" so I explain to him that I was trying to be a nice person and a good Samaritan and crap and I'm pointing to the driveway and because I'm awkward I'm stuttering and forgetting my sentences halfway through, so eventually I just point emphatically to the driveway and shout, "I'M ONE FOURTH A GOOD PERSON DAMMIT!" and at this point the plow dudes are just laughing and anyway that's how I became friends with the local plow guys and got them to plow the rest of my driveway for free.

Okay, so that's my life, how's yours?

This chapter is dedicated to That_Artsy_Girl, because they seem pretty snazzy and I love their comments, so yeah. Keep on keepin on, man.

So that's it, hope you all have a good existence, I love you, and I hope you enjoy the chapter! (I know, it's short, I'm sorry, but I figured I'd give y'all more insight on other ships n' stuff.) alSO PLOT IS COMING NEXT CHAPTER GUYS LIKE FINALLY AM I RIGHT?

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Jensen's life advice tip number...one, actually. Jensen didn't tend to write things down in an organized manner. He was more the scribble-it-down-on-the-closest-thing-handy type of guy, which meant his little nuggets of genius were scattered around anywhere and everywhere he went. "Never eat all your food at once," scrawled in his math notes with his spikey cursive or a Sticky-Note reading, "two trips may be for the weak but tripping over the steps because you're carrying too many grocery bags is more humiliating." He saved his more insightful revelations for the brick walls and spray cans. Was it graffiti? Yes. But it was poetic graffiti.

Anyway, back to Jensen's life advice tip number one: no one cares about the grey people.

That was less advice and more fact, he thought, so he scratched it out, feeling the tip of the Bic pen dig into his arm. But then he thought a little harder, trying to clear the haze in his mind, and rewrote it, letters crossing the tan line that had developed from wearing too many too big Taylor Swift shirts.

Jensen chewed his lip, running a hand through his hair. The pen point dragged a line of ink across his forehead in the process before he flipped it in his fingers so his fist covered the ball.

No one cares about the grey people.

Jensen stared at the tight, loopy letters, clenching his fist so the muscles along his arm tensed.

No one cares about the grey people.

He brought the pen back to his skin and started writing, scrawling down in his arm.