I don’t let myself think about Watford over the summers. After my first year there, when I was 11—I spent the whole summer thinking about it. Thinking about everyone I’d met at school—Penelope, Agatha, the Mage. About the towers and the grounds. The teas. The puddings. The magic. The fact that I was magic. I made myself sick thinking about the Watford School of Magicks—daydreaming about it—until it started to feel like nothing more than a daydream. Just another fantasy to make the time pass.
“Marienette look! There’s Adrien!!” You squealed, watching Adrien exit the limousine that personally drove him to school. Both you and Marienette were best friends. And somehow, the both of you also fell in love with Adrien. You were OK with it, but Marienette never would agree. Honestly, that had you a bit nervous about what would happen if he were to choose you. But then again, that’s just another daydream coming on.
“It is!” Marienette’s squeal ripped you away from your thoughts. Adrien was currently walking up the steps of the school with Nino, chatting about while Marienette practically fainted in your arms.
“Drama Queen” You thought, stealing a glance at Adrien. When you did, he glanced at you. His emerald eyes locked onto your (E/C) ones. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks, signalling how hard you were blushing because it felt like your face was on fire. Before you could look away, Adrien winked at you, walking away soon after.
Now, it felt like you could faint. Your knees felt weak and your arms went limp, causing you to lose your grip on Marienette. While Marienette went down, she grasped your arm and pulled you down with her. You broke each others fall so no real damage was done, only laughter was contagious between you two.
“So, what exactly happened?” Marienette asked after the laughter died down.
“Adrien winked at me.” You cooed with a smile.
The two of you sat in silence until Marientte finally spoke up.“Really?”“Yep!” You nodded with a smile and helped her up. Marienette didn’t say much but eventually, the both of you went into the school and made it to your classes.
“I’m gonna go on ahead ok?” Marienette asked, which came out as more of a statement as she gathered her items. Just as you had barely mumbled an “ok” back to her, she was already on her way. You don’t know how it happened, or when it happened, but Marienette suddenly started to get angry at you. For no reason at all! What could has possibly caused her to flip like that in just a few hours?
“Hey (Y/N).” Someone suddenly called out, catching you off guard as you were ripped away from your train of thought. When you glanced upwards you saw Adrien standing over you. His close proximity scared you so much that you nearly fell out of your seat and onto the isle next to you.
“A-Adrien! When did you get here?”
You laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of your neck, not knowing what to say next. Thankfully, you didn’t have to.
“So, (Y/N). Do you mind if I talk to you for a moment?”
“Sure!” You answered almost immediately. If you were going to talk, it might as well be now. Everyone was already leaving so that left only a few people in the classroom. “Or should that be a yes?” You mumbled. “O-Or was I right at first..?” You continued to ramble, not noticing Adrien jumping over the desk to sit next to you.
“It was right the first time.” He finally spoke up, causing you to finally take notice of his new position. You felt your cheeks get warm and your skin start to tingle. He’s NEVER been this close to you before. Marienette? Yes. But you? No.
“That’s nice..” You whispered, looking down at your hands that were intertwined on your lap. You were just so nervous..
“Anyways,” Adrien stated. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“And what is that?”
“Well, Marienette had told me a-lot about you and I had started to take a liking to you.” You remained quiet, allowing him to continue. “So, what I guess I’m trying to say is… I like you.”
“….What?” You asked, face full of disbelief.
“I mean.. I really like you (Y/N). Would you be mine?”
Ok (Y/N) breathe. Don’t repeat the same actions you did when your middle school crush asked you out. After taking a deep breath, you let your forehead hit the desk, creating a loud thump to reverberate throughout the room. A few people turned out of curiosity, but Adrien just told them that you were ok and that he’d handle it.
“So? What’s the answer?” Adrien asked after a long period of silence.
“I-I don’t know…” Came your muffled reply.
Adrien only laughed at your reply and started to rub your back. “Well, I guess I’ll have to wait right here for your reply.” Hearing this, you shook your head, catching Adrien’s attention as you sat up straight again.
“Yes,” You turned to him. “I want to be with you Adrien. I really do.” You gave him a soft smile. Adrien gave you a soft smile and started to lean closer to you. On instinct, you started to back away, causing you to fall out of your seat.
“We’re going to have to work on that..” You heard Adrien sigh.
“THERE YOU ARE MARIENETTE!!” Your screams could be heard all over Paris. You had caught Marienette just before she entered the library. Thank goodness, because it would have been ugly to be caught screaming in the library. Marienette turned to face you with an emotionless expression.
“What?” She asked rather harshly, causing you to become a bit flustered about what you had to tell her.
“Well..” You smiled at the ground, a small blush evident on your cheeks. “it’s about Adrien.”
Marienette made a sound of disgust and pivoted on her heel, preparing to go into the library.
“No! It’s nothing bad! Adrien asked me out!” Your sudden outburst caused Marienette to stop in her tracks and finally turn around. When she did, she held a deep grimace and her eyes held more hatred than you had ever seen.
“So, he turned me down and then asked me how to confess to someone because of YOU!?” Marienette screamed. The nice and innocent Marienette was gone now. You had never knew that she had confessed to Adrien first..
“Marienette, we both agreed that we’d be happy no matter who he chooses–”
“SHUT UP! I can’t BELIEVE you took the love of my life! I can’t BELIEVE he fell for someone as horrible as you!” Marienette glared at you once more. “That’s it! I never want to see you again, you’re the worst person ever!” Marienette stormed into the building.
Meanwhile, you were left on the stairs that lead to the grand library. You could feel warm tears flow down your cheeks. Should you be sad for all the things she just yelled at you? Or should you be happy that her true feelings towards you were finally revealed? You didn’t know the answer to anything right now, so, you went to the only place you knew you’d find comfort.
Now that you and Marienette weren’t friends anymore, you didn’t know what to expect. You definitely didn’t expect Ladybug to turn on you as well.
Oneshot, finished!! I’m so sorry for the wait Anon but with school dragging me down, it’s extremely difficult to upload things daily. It’s not impossible though! Just difficult..
Even so! I’m gonna start working on my other requests, now!
#948: You two don't get along, but he lends you his jacket.
"I'm fine," you had shouted out after noticing he had followed you from the darkened night club to make sure you were okay, "Jesus Christ, Louis, leave me alone." He hadn't mentioned it, but he saw the tear tracks on your cheeks; saw how you had stormed out after someone had said something quite crude. "Listen," he started out quietly, not wanting to fight, "Let me just. I'll get you a cab, okay? Let me get you a cab." You sniffled and nodded without thinking, mumbling a small 'thank you'. He took a small amount of time to call the cab provider before sliding down next to you against the brick wall, offering his coat. You looked at him with tears still in your eyes and slipped it on, chest heaving from the aftermath. "It's okay," you heard him saying, and before you really knew what was happening, he had slipped his arm around your back and pulled you flush into his side so your cheek rested against his warm shoulder. "I still hate you," you mumbled, and he let out a laugh. "Hate you too," he said, though he doesn't mean it -- never did. "Don't get snot all over my jacket."
Frankly, he's lucky another friend of yours is sitting inbetween the two of you, because he's getting aggravated against better judgement every time he sees you rubbing the skin of your arms. "Jesus," he mumbles, already shrugging out of his jacket before he can stop his conscious, handing it to you. His team he just scored another goal and he missed it, since he was more focused on your cold skin then the upcoming place. "Fuck me," he says, but watches you sneer at the logo on his jacket. "What now?" he asks incredulously, and you reply, "I don't even like your team." There's a tense moment of silence between the two of you, and the one mutual friend that was just sitting finally stands up to remove himself from the dispute. "You are... you are...," he sputters, "a pain in my ass!" You shrug and put on the coat, sending him a look. Both of you are silent before he says slowly, "My team scored, so..." It's a bad comeback, and both of you laugh; by the time you hand him back his jacket, it smells like you, and it's the only thing he can think about for the rest of the week.
"You cold?" It's the first time he's talked to you in weeks, the situation all a bit weird since he's walking up to the entrance of the haunted house with you. The rest of your group is a few yards ahead of you, but he has decided to stay back. "I, uh, I just wanted to say." He rubs a hand awkwardly at the back of his neck and looks down at you while you all wait in line. "I'm sorry for what happened the other week. I didn't mean...," -- a pause, he shuffles out of his jacket and hands it to you, and without another word, you slip it on -- "...to hurt your feelings. I feel awful." He lets out a gush of hot air into your face and you wrinkle your nose up, and there's this split second of absolute dread, staring down at you in his coat that is much too big around your waist and shoulders, your face all scrunched up and adorable and he wants to get down on his knees and beg. He finishes off, "I'm sorry." You don't say anything, but smile. You two don't talk anymore that night, although he stays with you in the house, and every time you get scared, you swear you even feel him wrap his pinkie around yours.
He almost didn't stop the car, but he's almost glad that he ended up doing so. He knew he had noticed something familiar about the person walking down the sidewalk in the dark, shoes stumbling over cracks in the pavement. "Hey," he had said, calling out your name before abruptly stopping the car. Honestly, he didn't know why he gave his shit, and he was even more surprised when you actually halted your walking at the sound of his voice. In the same moment you opened your mouth to speak, his eyes zeroed in on the bruising skin of your cheek. "Can you... can you take me home, Zayn? Please." He doesn't mention how weak your voice sounds, because he's already shooting out of the driver side of the car and slipping his arms out of his jacket, muttering explicits underneath his breath before reaching you. He gingerly rests the coat over your shoulders and helps you slip your arms into the fabric before buttoning you up, guiding you to the car without touching you, because he sees how you flinch. "Of course," he says softly, "I'll get you home."
It's the first thing you notice from the corner of your eye -- a bundle of soft brown leather being shoved into your arms. You glance up quickly, noticing he has a scowl on his face, his arms now bare against the cool autumn wind. You look around and wonder if any of your mutual friends have noticed, but they're still laughing, completely unaware, and you go back to staring at him. "I noticed you were cold," he forces out, like it's hard for him to be civil, "Goosebumps." He nods towards your arms and you almost give him back the jacket before another gush of air wafts around your body. You slip the leather over your body and notice the sleeves cover most of your hands, too. You guess he notices as well, because you see his fingers clench at his side, like they're about ready to reach for you and start to roll the cuffs up. "Don't worry about it," he murmurs when you start to open your mouth, "Just...." He backs away, eyes roaming over your body in one swift movement, and he doesn't think he's seen anyone look better in his clothes. He has to walk away.
In which Ernst has no idea how to properly respond to Hanschen’s relentless flirting (until he does).
Ernst had already circled his dorm room seven times, straightening out the pencils on his desk and smoothing out any crease in his bedspread. Hanschen was two minutes late, and every second that ticked by caused Ernst’s anticipation to rise. He could still hardly believe that Hanschen Rilow, of all the people in his class, had picked him to be his partner for their project. But yet after class yesterday he had looked up from packing his backpack to find Hanschen leaning against his desk; wonderful, gorgeous, glorious Hanschen looking down at him with an expression that made his insides curl and asking Ernst if he wanted to work together. The rest was foggy- Ernst was not quite sure how he managed to give Hanschen his dorm address and phone number, but he was 97% that it was an actual interaction that occurred and not just another one of his daydreams. The other 3% anxiously whispered at the back of his mind as Hanschen continued to be late. Why would Hanschen want to work with him? They had barely even talked, and from what Ernst knew of Hanschen, he-
I have seen your eyes somewhere. I have dried them before. I have kissed yours lips and held your hips. We no longer dance anymore, but I still think about us when midnight doesn’t feel right. I have played with your hair when spring came around, but you probably don’t remember. I held your hands when you needed someone. I have left you in the wind before. I left my heart inside of your veins, maybe that’s why you bleed roses. I have seen your smile, it’s deceiving. It knows about poetry and it wants mine. I have died in your arms, but you were alive and breathing as you gripped my pale skin. I have lost everything to you. I found myself near your toes. Every little piece that I let go, I found them near your shredded love letters. I have kissed your thighs, I have seen your sunrise. Your facial expressions are deadly and I can’t tell if you’re pretending to be mine or not, but it feels right. I cut at your skin and you cut at mine. I stitched your lips onto mine and you’re ripping out every thread as a means to whisper about how painless love could be. I placed my pinky on a stove, you can have these burning promises. Lobotomy, is it discomforting? You’re in my thoughts and I can’t tell if I’m ever in yours. Open heart surgery, is it necessary? You’ve got my metaphorical heart pulsating in your palms, you’re looking for emptiness and black holes where stars live and I can’t tell if you’re beautiful to me or my memories. Is this car accident on purpose? You’ve pulled my steering wheel, but you’re still smiling and the time has come for the poet with nine lives to die once more. You’re the imperial state building fall, I guess one slip is all it takes. I guess one glance was all it took. I guess one kiss could destroy a country. I guess one night could fuck up your body. I guess one touch could light a forest into flames. I guess one knife could slice all of my veins. I guess one girl can seem like all of my exes. I guess a single heart can break two. I guess being between her legs meant that the world was never going to be the same. I guess love wasn’t as beautiful as how the poet wrote it out to be. And I guess like how Lin-Manuel Miranda said it…
“Love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love.”
No wonder you look so familiar. You’re just another daydream that looks like her.
// i’m sorry
When I was two, my mom tells me I could entertain myself for hours with a couple of tissues rolled up like snakes.
“It was so cute! You would just sit in your car seat and have conversations with your tissue snakes. You were always able to entertain yourself.”
When I was four my younger brother was born. He took a lot of attention, but that was OK. I had imaginary friends to play with.
When I was five I started school. Learning in a classroom environment was hard. My teachers were impressed with my creativity, especially my storytelling ability, but they were also concerned with my slow progress.
By age ten things became dark. Being around people became hard. Only the people in my imaginary world could truly understand.
At age twelve I would have given anything to exchange my real life for my dream life. I spent as much time there as I could.
I’d go to my room, blare my music on a tired old boombox, and pace. My mom worried, but she didn’t know much. Just enough to worry.
When I was fourteen, I hardly ever went to school. I’d say I was sick. I’d cry, I’d gag myself, I’d pound my head against the wall, anything to avoid that hell hole. And then when I was alone, I’d turn up my music and become free in my own world.
By age sixteen, I’d been to several counselors and tried a litany of drugs to treat my mental illness, whatever it was. They knew I was depressed and anxious. They knew I had panic attacks. They knew school was difficult for me. They didn’t know much.
At age eighteen I hadn’t graduated high school. I still listened to my music. I couldn’t do anything for more than an hour without going to my room to “decompress.”
All of my favorite movies, shows, books, ect. became incorporated into my world. All of my favorite characters were tailored to me. All of the funny, interesting, and exciting things that could never happen to me in the real world happened all the time in my world.
At age nineteen my mom learned about some of the dark things that had happened to me when I was younger. Watching her cry made me feel sick. I never wanted anyone else to be hurt so much because of me. I couldn’t tell my mom any more.
When I was twenty-two, I got my first job. I wanted to be a reliable, hard worker. I gave that job everything I had. And that wasn’t much, certainly not enough. By the time I quit, I felt empty. My imaginary world, my music, and my stories were my only solace.
I’m twenty-four now and for the first time I’ve found that this fantasy that I have used to cope with trauma and mental illness has been recognized and named. It’s not just childishness or laziness, it’s not just another personal failing.
Daydreaming has always been a huge part of my life and a huge part of who I am. Even if it is maladaptive, I can’t imagine my life without the fantasy world I’ve spent literal years creating and living in.
Request a pairing and I will write one of these for them!
[Timeline not consistent]
Juvia had never moved
faster in her life, she thought, as she raced to the guild, prepared to shout
from the rooftops that she and her precious Gray Sama were finally together.
Maybe it was the
pleading look in her vibrant blue eyes that made Gray cave whenever Juvia asked
for something—anything—from a request
for him to stay home with her to a kiss in public. He never regretted saying
“Please, Gray Sama?”
The bluenette begged. Gray folded his arms over his chest, determined to stay
strong this time. “Juvia, I don’t care what you do, but we are not getting a
pet. Wha—no, don’t give me puppy dog
It was always nice
when Juvia woke up with Gray next to her. It was even nicer knowing that it
wasn’t just another one of her daydreams.
Gray didn’t sing. He couldn’t sing, not in the slightest. But when he walked in on his
girlfriend quietly humming a familiar melody while folding laundry, he couldn’t
resist adding in lyrics.
Juvia looked at
herself in the mirror with a frown on her face, trying to suck in her stomach
as far as it would go. “Why are you doing that to my Juvia?” Gray asked as he
watched, “she’s already perfect.”
There’s a difference,
Juvia discovered, between being in a real relationship and an imaginary one. It
was only in reality that she could feel Gray’s smile as he kissed her, and feel
her heart rate speed up when his deep voice whispered things in her ear. Her
dreams were laughable compared to
was something Gray was quite good at, and he loved taking advantage of that
talent by sculpting. He was quite proud of all of his work—all except one,
which was of Juvia. When she asked him why he hated it so much, he explained
that he simply couldn’t capture all of her beauty in a single piece.
Juvia loved Gray’s
hands. She loved how they looked, how they felt on her skin, and how he ran
them through her hair. But mostly, she loved the feeling of his hand holding
hers, reminding her that he was always there.
Her favorite “worst
day” ever was when she came home in a frenzy, cursing everything in existence,
to find an ever-so-handsome ice mage waiting by the door with ice cream in hand
and Netflix already pulled up on the TV.
Prompt from anon: Ok how about Cas being the adorable teen next door that dean has a crush on but he’s too shy to talk to him then Cas goes to his house bc he needs sugar to bake cupcakes or something ughhh fluff c. Hope you enjoy.
“For God’s sake Dean, stop gawking out the window at the neighbor and come help me with this homework.” Sam snickered with a playful grin as he watched his older brother crane his neck further against the window.
“Shut up.” Dean hissed as he pulled his head back and stuck up a middle finger at his brother.
Sam chuckled as he buried his head once again into his Algebra book. “You said you would help me.”
Dean groaned and trudged over to take a seat at the table. His mind still raced with images of the Novak kid working on his garden outside. “I told you, I have no idea what you are even doing.”
likes are good. reblogs are doubleplus good. comments are doublegood plusplus. thanx for readin
I don’t know where to start, Korra says, and Senna answers: from the beginning. Tell me everything.
So she does, long into the night, sprawled on the bed with the phone propped against her jaw. Her friends drop off to sleep as she talks (Asami curled in the armchair, lamplight caught in her glossy hair; Mako scowling into the crook of his elbow on the other side of the bed, and Bolin flat on the carpet, his snores polite and low) but Korra is wide awake, her mood soaring higher with every word Senna says. And then what, Korra? A voice as steady as a waterfall, her strength tumbling over the syllables; it could wear down stone.
Korra’s own voice flows out of her in an endless rush of words.
So this isn’t much, but it’s a small piece I drabbled out to celebrate the holiday:
Blaine wakes up to a comforting hand drawing patterns into his stomach. He snuggles into the body behind him, as his mind drifts off to that in between state of dreaming where he’s not quite sure where he ends and the tangle of blankets begin, but he’s sated and more comfortable than he’s been in weeks and there’s a steady hand keeping him grounded. At some point, he might fall back asleep, because it feels like hours later when the pieces start to fall into place.
It’s been weeks since he’s woken up in his lover’s arms. Kurt’s been on a tour and the rigorous schedule he keeps barely affords him much time to FaceTime let alone visit. Blaine’s spent most nights sleeping in Kurt’s ratty old New Directions sweatshirt and hugging a pillow that’s long since lost Kurt’s scent. He’ll never admit it to Kurt, but he absolutely hates when Kurt goes on tour. It’s hard enough when he’s doing shows in the city every night and slipping into bed past midnight, but at least then they get to wake up together.
Which brings him back to reality and that mysterious hand roaming dangerously close to his waistband and that strong body behind him. He shifts around until he can finally see Kurt’s face and his eyes can’t help but fill up with tears.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? He asks.
IT’S VALENTINE’S DAY. I DIDN’T WANT TO WAKE UP WITHOUT YOU.
Blaine smiles and can’t help but pull him into his arms tightly and rests his head against Kurt’s heart, needing to prove to himself that this is real and not just another hopeful daydream he’s found himself in. It takes longer than usual, it always does when they spend too much time apart, but eventually he catches onto the faint vibrations of his heart and he sees that beautiful blackbird in his mind. He hasn’t told Kurt yet, but he had that blackbird tattooed over his heart two weeks ago.
WHEN DO YOU HAVE TO LEAVE? Blaine asks, already dreading his departure. He wouldn’t ask, but he’s made that mistake before and was devastated last time that Kurt left in the middle of the night and Blaine never got a proper goodbye.
EARLY TOMORROW MORNING, he signs the best he can left handed since his right hand is trapped under Blaine.
WE HAVE TIME? he asks.
Kurt nods and smiles, gently guiding Blaine back down until he can feel Kurt’s heartbeat again; understanding what he hasn’t said. Fingers trace through his hair as he takes a deep breath, relishing how the bed once again smells like Kurt. Then he closes his eyes until he can see his blackbird and remembers that he is loved more completely than he ever thought possible.
I truly don’t know how to feel about this.So many questions!!!
So it seems that Equestria Girls: Rainbow Rocks is official. I’m not going to let my hopes down, maybe they can write a good plot this time! If you want to talk with me about this, you know you can go to my mod blog. _____________________________________________________
Now, I want to talk about the current arc I’m developing in APS. I included an OC to run an experiment, I’m still not entirely sure yet if I’m going to ship him with Twi, that will depend on how I feel about it, firstly, and secondly on the feedback I get.
Yes, unlike my other arcs where I really was going to include characters even if people didn’t like it, this time I truly expect your opinions, comments, possitive criticism and suggestions. I’ll make my decision when I feel that enough time has passed. For now just see Daydream as another character with his own backstory and stuff.