In which Lane Emerstan finds Ivor Bennett, the only boy in the entire world with the ability to break America; not once, but twice. #wattys2016 *cover inspiration from a advertisement for new york city*

Howl at the moon, scream at the stars, say hi to the sun, sure ― promise me one thing, though, that you won't get lost. It's a big world out there, little boy, and you're not ready to face it just quite yet. #486 chicklit 2/23

used to be named "Supergirl." - When Walt gets broken bones and glasses handed to him on a silver platter, because he didn't do an obnoxious jock's homework, he wonders if life would be better if he didn't exist at all. When Holly wanders the streets with a rib cage that's missing a joyful heart, because she is never meant to have a happy ending, she hears a cry for help. - this is a story about how standing up for someone can, literally, save their life. (cover is made by @swimmingly)

"Even from a distance, Nixon Young has an aura of maturity. The way he carries himself, the rolled back of his shoulders, his tall and confident posture, the lazy way his eyes skim his surroundings- it's hard to explain and to formulate into words, but it just shows. All of Nixon Young screams maturity. It's hard to believe this is the guy that tied a live goat to a pole in the gymnasium." xxx Chantelle Géroux thought people like Nixon Young only existed in books and movies. Ever since freshmen year, stories about the legendary Nixon have circulated throughout the student body. Stories about his glorious escape from the cops, of the time he stole a car and promptly almost crashed it, of how he had jumped from one roof of a house to another during a crazy party. For the last three years at Princeton High, Chantelle had listened to the stories, even if they were painfully exaggerated, in awe. She spared small glances at Nixon, taking in his confident smile and loud voice, his blue eyes that sparkled like no others, and tried to understand. Understand how one person could stir such talk among such an easily-distracted group of teenagers. But Chantelle knew how: Nixon Young was simply extraordinary, in a way that simply couldn't be understood. But then junior year came around. Two years of stories full of fascinated stories turn into heated whispers in the hall. Looks of awe when he walks by turn into hurried avoidance. Nixon's easy-going smiles turn into scowls, his fist making a dent in the lockers as he lashes out once more on someone. Nixon Young's personality does a complete 180 degree turn, and no one has any idea why. Eventually, Nixon Young is nowhere to be seen. Until he turns up at Chantelle's doorstep, three weeks after he got kicked out of Princeton High, asking for one hell of a favor.

"What's your name, again? Rowell Forest Hill something, right? But wait, I don't really care. Not really. Just try not to keep on forgetting that I have wrists and can twist them to turn a door knob. Just, stop." Robert Hills is a gentleman and everyone in town knows that. Everyone. But when he decides to show off his gentle-manly behavior to the new girl in his workplace, his habits are put to trial in ways that leaves everyone in the town astounded (especially the old women who are used to Lovely Robert holding their hand while crossing the road). Andsobut, Robert decides to show this overly-witty girl that his so-called gentlemanly habits are far better than her nasty customs (i.e. nail-biting, thumb-finger-sucking, swearing-every-minute-of-every-day, etc.). And he does show her. But it's not like the girl isn't a Major at streaming buckets of malevolent terms from her mouth every time he even attempts to hold a door open for her. A story of one gentleman, one infuriatingly sarcastic girl, and his puny attempts to show her that not all gentlemen are jerks in disguise.

Rosie Alder-Pembrook isn’t planning on letting her ultra-feminist club get shut down due to the senior class council’s budget cutbacks (and to be honest, it’s kind of killing her senior year buzz). But when it seems that the only way to revive it is to strike a deal with the semi-sexist/mostly ignorant Class Council president, Peter Bevan, to help him fix what he broke with ex-girlfriend/real life Barbie doll, Ella Hall, she’s made to wonder if it’s quite worth selling her soul over. And so, alongside her best friend, (who she’s sure wasn’t always this hot) a group of angry teenage feminists, and the outlandishly willing drama department, Rosie embarks on a mission to reclaim her beloved club – at whatever the cost.

Nora Blake repels ordinary. Adam Clarke is constructed entirely of ordinary. ● ● ● "I don't want to share you with the galaxy, Nora Blake," he says quietly, and all at once, all the stars inside my chest are being flung across the universe at full speed and for that particular moment, I am untethered. Unrooted. Flowing. Floating. Something. He doesn't have to, I think, instantly. I am vaguely aware of the fact that I am a kind of traitor: but there is no heavy stone of betrayal in my chest. The galaxy will wait. It will wait until this beautiful boy flings my fragile heart across the universe at full-speed, but right now, I'm so full of it that I don't even care. Look at that. Nora Blake gives up the galaxy. I look at him, then, and there's so much color oozing out of his perfect, jagged cracks that I feel like I'm in one of Nadia's Leonid Afremov paintings and there's a supernova in my chest. "You don't have to," I tell him, so quietly that I don't think he hears. His delicate rose-pink mouth is curved into a kind of frown and his baby-blue gray-flecked gaze is lost somewhere far, far away from the devoid town of Enfield. I recognize that much, and I wonder momentarily if he has his own galaxy somewhere. I don't want to share him either, I think.

Stereotypes. I hate them. On my first day at my new school, a girl in a blue and white cheerleader's uniform told me I 'looked like a cheerleader' and asked me to come to tryouts. I almost decked her. Blonde hair and blue eyes do not a cheerleader make. Cheerleaders can be bitchy and mean but they can also act all happy and excited and they can drool and swoon over Finn Wallace – the hands-down hottest guy in school – like there's no tomorrow. Me? Well, I'm just bitchy and mean. So someone please tell me why Finn Wallace is suddenly chasing after me? *This is NOT a Bridgit Mendler fan fiction* Copyright © 2013 CrayonChomper

Most stories are about people. People who fall in love. But what about the rest of us? What about our stories? Are they not worth telling too? So this is not a love story. But who knows maybe there will be an essence of romance. But probably not. Because romance isn't real. It's a pass time for the bored. All Rights Reserved.

Norah Appleton has a rather odd problem. She can’t seem to sit down and study for her life, and it’s not even like she has the slightest signs of ADHD or dyslexia. She just cannot study. When she looks at the words dully carved into her physics book, all her mind can wonder about are tales of Greek gods which, from her perspective, are ‘hella cooler’. Emmet Lieber, for the first time in his seventeen year old dry life, has made a new friend — a new friend who can’t even register the beautiful words of education. And if the so-called new friend isn’t even a B grade student, then it’s a definite ‘no no’ from Emmet’s overly uncompromising parents. A story of one boy, one girl and loads and loads of undisclosed words scribbled on educational books as one of them tries to school the stupider just for the sake of keeping his foremost friendship — and maybe, just maybe, a few undisbursed kisses that has nothing to with The Laws of Refraction.