#daisy pov

[kaizsche]

No. No, Anthony. TWISTERS INTERVIEW WITH GLEN POWELL, DAISY EDGAR-JONES, AND ANTHONY RAMOS

[wannabemasterofwindintraining]

You with the dark curls you with the waterecolour eyes

You who bares all your teeth in every smile

[autism-swagger]

Deeply enamored with their dynamic. She despises him ❤️ he's obsessed with her ❤️ she becomes a zealot for the thing possessing his rotten corpse ❤️ no one is doing it like them!

Reblogging is better than just liking.

[finickyfelix]

Debating if I should ever switch to Tievis's POV in Faded Daisy. In my original plan, I was going to for one specific scene at least, but lately I've been operating under the assumption that the entirety of Faded Daisy would be in Nameless's POV only, but now I've been thinking again about maybe doing that scene in Tievis's perspective. Unfortunately I don't know if it will be confusing to the readers to go from second to third person suddenly and to have a POV change so late in the story.

But on the other hand, I miss writing in Tievis's POV (I still miss writing Snakeskin.) And I have one specific line I really want to write that I can only write from his perspective. And also I think that scene might be better from his perspective.

[aeligsido]

🍬 Trick or treat? 🎃

Hey darling 💕 It'll be a treat for you!

It's a Jily lives au (but no one knows and they're Obliviated) that I'm,,,, currently writing

Also Daisy POV bc i love her

-

Daisy Evans has always been a peculiar child. When she's born, at the tail end of January 1982, she's quiet; for the first months of her life, she watches her parents with wide eyes constantly in movements, as if looking for more. She never quite grows out of the habit, either; sometimes, she turns as if about to talk to someone isn't here, and her nose scrunches in upset when she realizes it. She has her father's brown skin, her mother's green eyes, and brown hair burning red under the sun all hers; when she laughs, a bouncy sound her parents never tire of, it's a little bit of someone's else, too, and she knows it.

She's just not sure who.

[...]

People here are wary of the Evans; of James, wild hair and brown skin and full-on grin, offering helping hands and terrible advice all the same; of Lily, fiery hair and fiery eyes and biting teeth, staring down bullying kids until they cry and unapologetic in front of their parents; of Daisy, as wild and as fierce as her parents, quiet and oh so peculiar. They're strange and other, and people of Privet Drive don't like what is other.

Daisy can't find it in herself to care.

She's six and running around the park at the end of the street, making friends and enemies alike, grin on her face and heart beating fast fast fast. It's the beginning of summer and she feels the world at her fingertips, shaking and humming and just ready to flip over.

So it does.

Daisy's ducking behind a bush, in the middle of an intense game of hide and seek with some of the other kids and determined to win. That's where she meets him — curled up under the bush, head in his shoulders and hands around his ankles, quiet and melancholic.

(The world tilts.)

"Hey," she says, breathless and curious and her magic burning her lungs. "Sorry, I didn't know it was taken."

He looks up at her, then. He has her father's hair and her mother's eyes and he looks like her and not at all, and suddenly Daisy knows who the blank spaces were hiding.

[phoenix-drop-villager]

nobody:

Daisy texting Garroth at 3 am on a Tuesday:

[seriousbrat]

Here is the full collection lmao, I had way too much fun with these. graphic design is truly my passion

[diaswarriorcats]

[kaizsche]

via INSTAGRAM

[shemdraws]

Eternal Flame

[dayurno]

rip cat alvarez you would have LOVED california girls by katy perry

[transannabeth]

hi. for people who saw gatsby: an american myth. do you remember mckee asking nick for lunch. and then gatsby in like the next scene inviting nick for lunch. because i remember.

[wulfhalls]

mentally I'm still here

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Writing a story and staggering out the climax by replaying it over and over from different perspectives

[tenantoftheorpheumcircuit]

The Glass Cabinet

Key characters: Daisy Buchanan

Key ships: (Past, mentioned) Daisy/Tom, Gatsby/Daisy

Style: Second Person, stream of consciousness. If you do not like either of these things, this isn’t for you.

TWs: Mentions of alcohol, implied abuse, mentions of death

Synopsis: Daisy’s grappling with her isolation, and her lack of genuine support system. A psychological examination of Daisy’s feelings towards herself, her emotions, and her place in this world.

Word count: 696

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59824306

It’s late, and you’ve had a bit too much to drink. It doesn’t happen often, in fact the last time you were this drunk was around five years ago…but something about tonight felt so hopelessly lonely that you sought comfort in the bottom of a bottle. You’re not quite sure what, it’s not an anniversary, there’s nothing special about today. No reason you should be feeling like this…and yet here you are. Tonight you just happened to fall down a disused well of despair. It’s not like it was ever truly gone, you just shoved it to the back of your mind, covered it up with the dirt and grass and flowers of other memories. Until tonight, when your unoccupied thoughts decided to probe where they shouldn’t. And suddenly it’s three hours later, and you’re drunk, and alone.

You’re no stranger to tears like this. Not the pretty ones, that make your eyes sparkle just so in the light. Not the ones that come to the surface quickly, and dissipate just as fast. Though those aren’t hard to come by either, and are always so perfectly charming to whomever happens to be with you when you’re overcome by such esoteric emotion. Real, guttural tears. The ones that shake your body, and leave you red in the face and gasping. The ones that people are never permitted to see. You let them once, on a night not unlike this, as you felt the death knell of church bells approaching like an oncoming train. Like tonight, you were drunk, and unlike tonight it’d been prompted by something obvious. You didn’t want to marry your fiance. The man you’d thought had died, or abandoned you, or found some shiny new toy to replace you with still loved you. But it was too late. The women had found you, surrounded you like jackals, but instead of attacking with their claws and teeth, transforming your beautiful face into something that would match the rot that’s inside, they used platitudes.

‘Don’t be silly Daisy, you don’t want to call it all off you’ve just got cold feet…’.

‘It’s too late now to do anything about it anyway, think of all the people downstairs, who’ve come to support you both.’

‘Pull yourself together girl, you made your bed. Now you’re going to have to lie in it.’

Sobering you up, stringing a noose of pearls around your neck. Dressing you like a porcelain doll, like something to be displayed, just a pretty object about to be handed over from owner to owner. All the while muttering between themselves. ‘Silly girl, stupid thing, to think she could change her mind…it’s far too late. And to throw away such a lovely gift. So careless!’

You haven’t cried like that in front of anyone since…with Tom you were too frightened to. Anything other than perfection was met with stern disapproval at best…a strike at worst. Nothing rawer than pretty tears, frivolous bursts of emotion over a tablecloth, or a vase. Nothing deeper. Not with any witnesses at least. He couldn’t possibly have his perfect toy ruining his image. And then he returned, acting as if nothing had changed. Acting as if you hadn’t changed. And of course it was all you could do not to scream in his face that you were different! Couldn’t he see that the Daisy he’d loved died five years ago?! That you were only the rotting corpse of a once lovely girl. But instead he got pretty tears and beautiful shirts. Who would want a woman who was anything else? He certainly didn’t. He just wanted someone he could display, like the rest of them.

You’re just a doll built to be displayed. Showed off, inside a glass cabinet. Later on they’ll add a second, smaller doll. A little girl. You’ll teach her how to smile and how to cry. Just how to pose so that you catch the light attractively. How to plant flowers over her darkest fears, and hopefully how never to stumble upon them. And one day, she shall replace you. And her daughter will one day replace her…and nobody shall ever break free from behind that glass.

[the-way-astray]

i would’ve accepted a book 9.5 if it had been from marella’s pov and started where stellarlune ended (like unlocked did with legacy)