#spectacular writing

[valtiels-darkness]

this is tragically wholesome ooooof

“Mom, there’s someone under the bed.” You bend down and see your son there instead and he whispers “Mom that’s not me up there!” You take a step back when someone tugs your shirt. You turn, your son is in the closet asking “who are they?” You suddenly hear him calling from downstairs “Mommy?”

[luxaofhesperides]

Danny accidentally appearing out of Duke's shadow. And doing it purposely every time after that. ; requested by @kyrianclawraith! (deviated from your original prompt a bit, sorry! the ghostlights brainworms got away from me)

Traveling through shadows has become second nature for Duke after using them so extensively over the years. He even uses them as a civilian, hopping between shadows when he’s running late to class so he doesn’t have to stress out over traffic. 

Not even Batman’s scoldings can stop him from making it on time to his classes. Risks need to be taken for the sake of his education!

The shadows are comforting. They hide him from sight, get him to where he needs to go, and gives him the alone time he needs when he’s been around people for too long and desperately needs some quiet to recharge. Duke would say that he’s well versed in the shadows at this point, no longer stumbling out into the light.

Even with all his practice and confidence, he still can’t prepare himself for tripping over someone in the shadows while he’s trying to escape some of The Riddler’s goons. 

They both go tumbling out of the shadows, landing in a corner hidden by storage shelves. The poor tripping hazard of a person is under him, groaning lightly as he reaches up to press a hand to the back of his head, where he hit the concrete floor. 

“Oh, shit,” Duke whispers, “I’m so sorry. What are you doing here? How are you here?”

“I was hiding,” the guy hisses back at him. “I wanted to get out of the rain and dozed off and when I woke up, guns were being shot! I was up in the rafters, so excuse me for thinking no one would find me up there!”

Another gunshot rings out, alarmingly close to where they are.

Duke curses under his breath, then picks up the guy and hauls him over his shoulder. “Time to go!” And then he’s disappearing into the shadows again, following the line of them outside the warehouse and down the street. 

As soon as they’re safely away from the goons, Duke steps out of the shadows and carefully sets the civilian back onto his feet.

“So sorry about that,” he says, “But I need to get back and deal with them. Stay safe!”

He’s gone before the civilian can say anything else, and though it’s embarrassing that he tripped over someone while shadow hopping, at least it ended relatively well. It’s not like it’ll happen again.

Duke, sweet, naive Duke, doesn’t think much of the civilian again. He’s a busy guy with a busy life! Lots of things to do! Lots of embarrassing moments to keep secret from the other Bats! No one has mentioned it at all, so he thinks he’s safe from being teased about it.

That is, up until he’s training with Dick and a hand pops up out of his shadow.

“Um,” Dick says, backflipping away from Duke’s punch. He lowers his escrima sticks and squints at the space behind Duke. “Are you… trying something new with your powers?”

“...No? I’m not using my powers right now.”

Dick looks more and more alarmed. He won’t look away from the space behind Duke, and it’s making him nervous. He doesn't want to look, but he knows he has to. 

Steeling himself, Duke takes a deep breath, then turns slightly to see what’s behind him.

Nothing. 

His gaze goes down, and he sees a pale hand sticking out of his shadow, moving back and forth. It then comes out some more, up to the elbow, and the hand pats the ground Duke’s shadow lays on, a stiff mat perfect for sparring.

Behind him, Dick turns on his escrima sticks, the electricity crackling through the air.

The hand disappears for a moment. 

Then two hands appear and grab the ground, hauling up a body from Duke’s shadow.

Duke is very well versed in shadows. He travels through them almost daily. He thinks he would know if there was some strange netherworld hidden in the shadows where other beings could pop out of shadows like portals. This is alarming, to say the least.

“Don’t move, Duke,” Dick warns, creeping closer, ready to attack.

A head pops out of his shadow. Whatever it is glows and their white hair moves softly as if underwater. They’re facing away from him, so he can’t see their face, but he can see the black, skin-tight suit their wearing as they float up from his shadow, no longer needing their hands to pull themself out. 

“Huh,” they say, looking up at the ceiling.

Dick grabs Duke’s arm and pulls him back, shielding him with his body. “Who are you?” he demands, voice cold. 

The creature/person startles and whips around to stare at them with wide green eyes. His gaze darts down to the electrified escrima sticks, then back up again, visibly nervous.

“Um, hi! Sorry, I didn’t know anyone would be here. Wherever this is.”

“How did you get here?”

“I was practicing a new portalling method. I found a ghost to teach me how to move through shadows, since my usual portals are very bright and noticeable. Not great when you’re trying to be stealthy! I did not mean to end up here.”

Duke stares at him. “You came out of my shadow.”

“Sorry,” the guy repeats. Then he squints at Duke. “Hey, didn’t you save me the other day? From the warehouse?”

It’s been a while since Duke’s saved anyone from a warehouse. Criminals and goons have moved on to condemned apartment complexes and the back rooms of bars. The only person he’s saved is the tripping hazard…

“Man, what is up with you and getting caught in my shadows?”

“This is your fault!” the guy insists. “I associate shadows too strongly with you! That’s why I’m here! Probably. I don’t actually know how this works.”

“You don’t know how it works but you did it anyways.”

“It sounds bad when you say it like that.” The guy floats down to the ground and offers Duke a hand. “I’m Phantom, by the way! Figured I should introduce myself because this will happen again.”

Duke considers introducing himself as the Signal, but Danny is looking directly at his bare face, so it’s lost cause. Talk about an unexpected security breach. “Duke. You looked a little different when we first met.”

“Yeah, that was my human form. This is my ghost form.” A watch on his wrist, some clunky looking thing that looks like it came from the early 2000s, beeps and Phantom frowns at it. “Shoot, I need to go. I’ll see you later!” And he dives right back into Duke’s shadow, disappearing.

Duke blinks at the empty space where Phantom used to be, still reeling from the shock of it. He’s so busy processing the last few minutes that he doesn’t hear the escrima sticks turn off until Dick is dropping a heavy arm around his shoulders, holding him in place. There’s a smile on his face, but it’s not happy; it’s a warning that he’s at his limit and is barely hanging on to niceties.

“So,” he says as Duke cringes, “Looks like we need to have a talk about the things you’ve been hiding from us, Duke.”

He can’t do anything but resign himself to his fate.

After that conversation, he’s instructed to let them know when Phantom pops up. Which is fine until he realizes that Phantom really did mean it when he said that it’ll happen again. 

Phantom pops up constantly. Most of the time, Duke is lucky enough to be at home, or in the Manor, or in the Batcave away from the public where no one will freak out about a glowing boy popping out of his shadow. Sometimes, he’s in the middle of the street as a civilian and has to sprint away, ducking into the first empty alley he can find in order to climb up onto the rooftop where no one will see him.

It’s stressful and confusing and he wishes he could be more upset about it, but Phantom is fun. He’s funny and charming and tells the craziest stories about ghost fights that Duke can’t help but hang onto every word.

He dutifully updates his Phantom Log, noting each time he’s portaled through Duke’s shadow, any information he’s revealed, and an injury count after Duke noticed a concerning pattern of Phantom often showing up after he’s been in a fight.

Duke begins to get a feel for when Phantom is about to show up. A shiver runs down his spine and his awareness of the shadows around him grows. Sometimes, he could swear he could feel something tear apart in his shadow. He feels it then, a tear that stitches itself up almost instantly, a ripple in the shadow, before that familiar hand pops up again and Duke grabs hold of it to haul Phantom out into his bedroom. 

He is, once again injured. There’s a large gash running down the length of his other arm, bleeding a toxic, glowing green. 

“Dude,” Duke says, unable to keep the judgment out of his voice.

“You should see the other guy,” Phantom snorts. “I slammed him through five streets, then ripped his limbs off.

“Dude…”

“Just to be clear, they weren’t his real limbs. He has a robot suit he uses like a body because he’s like a tiny little bean.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how to take that. Anyways, have you still not figured out how to open portals that aren’t connected to my shadow?”

Phantom shrugs. “Nope. And I’m not really trying to figure it out. I like hanging out with you. Plus, it’s nice to see a friendly face after a fight.”

“Can’t you like, go home and have your family take care of you first.”

“Uh, better not,” Phantom laughs nervously. “They’d probably kill me for real if they saw me like this.”

Duke quietly notes to himself to add that statement to the Alarming Things Phantom Says list. 

“Does it… bother you? Me always coming to you?” There’s a smallness to his voice, a fragility that makes Duke want to beat himself up for making Phantom feel like that.

“No! No, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t keeping you from anyone else.”

Phantom brightens. “Oh! Well, no need to worry about that. No one’s worried, back home. They know I disappear sometimes.”

…Another concerning thing. Duke is considering bribing Phantom into staying in Gotham forever, living in his shadow, just so he can take care of him. Just to be sure Phantom’s safe. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks, eyes flickering down to Phantom’s bleeding wound.

Phantom futilely tries to hide the wound with a hand. The green blood leaks out from between his fingers, and he applies more pressure to the wound with a faint wince. “Nope! All good here. I’ll heal in no time, honest.”

“Then, do you want to just hang out? I really don’t know why you’d chose to keep coming to me.”

“You’re good company, dude. Very chill. Very fun. And you’re a hero! That’s so cool. Why wouldn’t I keep coming back?”

Duke shrugs, not sure how to put his insecurities into words. He’s already starting to get the Bat-specific inability to communicate emotions, which is definitely a problem. He’ll need to spend time with other people to be normal again. 

As if sensing that Duke’s mood is falling, Phantom launches into another tale, complaining about people who bother him, teachers who are terrible at teaching, having snark-fights with the embodiment of Time itself, and so on. He always has the craziest stories, and he tells them so casually that Duke has to second guess himself, wondering if he’s overreacting when he’s shocked by what Phantom tells him. 

He starts telling his own stories as well, mostly fun civilian interactions he’s had since they last spoke, villain fights, the ever changing theories on the ‘Who is Batman Sleeping With Now?’ shared document all the other Bats have. By the time an hour passes, Phantom’s arm is fully healed and he’s flying in lazy circles above Duke.

His watch beeps again in the middle of him recounting the insane drama happening at his school. Phantom sighs and sinks back to the floor, hovering just above Duke’s shadow.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” he says, voice warm.

Duke shrugs. “You’re good company. I like when you visit.”

A slow, soft smile spreads across Phantom’s cheeks, making him glow even brighter. “Sweet talker,” he accuses fondly, then flies in for a quick, tight hug. He pulls back before Duke can reciprocate, and salutes him with a cheeky, “See you soon!” and is gone, flying into Duke’s shadow before he can respond.

Shaking his head fondly, Duke falls back against his bed.

Despite how unconventional their friendship is, he is glad Phantom keeps coming back. He hopes he’ll get to see Phantom’s human form again.

…And get more used to the horror movie scene that is Phantom clawing his way out of his shadow. No matter how many times he sees it, the sight still makes him jump.

Not that he’s ever going to admit that.

If Phantom thinks he’s cool, he’s going to do whatever he can to keep that impression from changing. It’s only reasonable, really.

(“Shut up, Dick,” he says later when he recounts this encounter with Phantom. Dick just keeps laughing, endlessly amused that Duke got ‘jumpscared into a crush’ as he phrased it. That’s definitely not what happened.

Next time, he’s definitely convincing Phantom to scare Dick with him. 

Revenge will be his.) . . .

[send me ghostlights prompts! one day left before they close on 11/17]

[clone-wars-winter-challenge]

Last time for a would you rather before the prompts begin!

[biting-miguel-ohara]

can i get a romantic blurb with prompt #69 and matt murdock :]

(congrats on 300 followers !! 🎉) - 🧸 anon

Prompt #69: “Can I hold your hand?”

CW: fluff, kisses, mild pining, chivalrous behavior, gn!Reader

"Can I hold your hand?"

“What?” You blink at Matt. He gives you that devilishly charming smile in return. The one that’s achingly lazy and oh so warm. It melts you completely.

“Can I hold your hand?” He holds out his own. After a moment, you take it. You weren’t ever really gonna say no. Not to an opportunity you’ve been dreaming about for months.

You walk with him, sticking close on the busy sidewalk. You’re barely paying attention though, too busy focusing on the feel of his calloused hand against yours.

He takes you out for lunch. And then walks you home. It’s the most giddy you’ve felt in months. He treats you so normally, but with so much grace it feels… special. He makes you feel special.

And when he kisses your hand at the door, lips lingering against your skin for a touch longer than necessary? When his lips are pillow soft and his kiss slow and gentle? You could combust into a thousand starbursts and still feel enraptured.

You’re so in love with him. And for the first time in ages, it seems like you finally have a chance.

[fanaticsnail]

You have crafted exceptional work. I honestly can't wait to make my way through this Masterlist. I've just finished the kid X killer x f!feader x heat x wire fic "Rotation" and:

The way everything was described was so vivid and amazing. The flow, the pacing, the story, spectacular.

I need a lie down. Bloody hell. I'm so excited to read more.

Masterlist

Keep reading

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

I still can't get over how perfect Time In A Bottle was for the E7 credits. How perfectly it fits with Lilia. The whole theme of time -- wanting to save time, to bottle it up, to control it and make sense of it, while knowing all the while that it's impossible. There never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them, because she only realized that she needed her coven and that her life and gift had a meaning beyond running away from death as she was nearing her own end. If I had a box just for wishes and dreams that had never come true, the box would be empty except for the memory of how they were answered by you, because by the end she has no regrets anymore; she has made peace with the death of her first coven, and has found acceptance and community in her new coven. I've looked around enough to know that you're the one I want to go through time with -- she spends the last few hours of her life going through time with and for her coven, in a way the only characters can barely fathom, and I'm 300% sure the clues she gave them are going to save them in the end. How quiet and gentle and wistful the song is, and how quiet and gentle and wistful Lilia's final understanding of her life and her death is. How she falls softly into death's embrace, almost as if she's floating, and she begins again from the first step. If words could make wishes come true, I'd save every day like a treasure, and then again I would spend them with you. I do not have the proper words to convey how all this makes me feel but the more I think about it the harder I sob. Lilia Calderu you will always be in my heart

[write-it-yourself]

I’m sure that following chapters after this will be amazing 😆

The thrill of killing you| BAU x Unsub reader

Introduction and about me:

I am new to tumblr, I go by she/her pronouns.

This story will be about an unsub reader and about the majority of BAU but will focus on Aaron Hotchner and Dr Spencer Reid.

In this story they reader (aka you) will be speaking both English, Dutch, and Swedish (I will translate all Dutch and Swedish into English)

Y/N is AFAB in this story.

There will be us of Y/N, cuss words and maybe smut (more likely then not). There will be mentions of murder.

While we know the BAU would most likely be able to catch reader quickly, this is going to be a bit like cat and mouse though.

There will be a little bit of Cat Adams mentioned and, in this world, Aaron never left criminal minds (but we still have Luke Alvez)

Reader was born in the Netherlands to Swedish and Dutch parents and moved to America at the age of ten. (that’s why both these languages will be used)

Chapter warnings: Animal death (of dears been hunted). Mention of guns (hunting rifle and glock). Badly written. Mentions of SA (it’s not graphic at all). Not proof read, sorry about that :)

A/N: there is no mention of the BAU in this chapter. This is basically a background story of the reader. The next chapter will include the BAU.

Also here in the link to a playlist that I feel unsub reader would listen to.

Chapter One: To the end

It wasn’t hard doing what you do. You had learnt how to hunt at an early age, it was fun. The thrill of going out with only a hunting rifle was exciting to you. You left your phone at your house; you didn’t want any distractions. See, hunting deer was a nice way to blow of steam, that moment when the life of an innocent animal was in your hands, you felt like a god. That deer couldn’t beg for its life, it couldn’t ask for mercy, it could just look at you.

 

So now when the people you are hunting could beg and plea with you, ‘please I don’t know why you are doing this, I’ve done nothing wrong.’ All you could do was laugh. Sure, tell yourself you haven’t done anything wrong, tell me you’re innocent.  Every person you had killed had done something wrong. They had hurt someone else and thought they could get away with it, and you could not let that happen.

 

Now the thrill of the hunt was better than ever, you know that phase where people say you’ll never experience a high, like your first ever high, that was a lie to you because every kill you did, brought you a sense of justice to this world, made you feel like you were doing something important. You no longer hunted deer, there was pity and sorrow in their eyes. Eyes that just gleamed innocence.

 

The only thing that was really different now to when you were just killing deer, is you did bring your phone. You brought it so you could listen to music. I mean it was a powerplay, you watched them cry and beg for their life, and you just put your headphones in. You watched how powerless they became; you saw the hope leave their eyes. And it felt amazing.

 

Your first kill (other than the deer) was a man called Michael O’Stevens. He seemed like a nice man, but he had sexually assaulted around 30 women, but after each one of those crimes he had committed he would go home to his wife and daughter. You couldn’t let him get away with that, but you wanted his wife to know why he had to die, why she was never going to see her husband again. So, you did the only logically thing and wrote her a letter.

 

“Dear Mrs O’Stevens.

 

I am sorry to inform you about your husband like this, but I can’t let you see who I am.

 

Your husband is not a nice man, he is not who you think he is. I’ve watched him, I’ve seen how he treats you and your daughter, but outside your house he is a completely different man.

 

He finds vulnerable women and hurts them. He takes them in his care and abuses them. He then throws them out like trash, like he hasn’t just caused them a great deal of trauma.

 

So, I’m sorry to write you this, but tomorrow will be the last time you see your husband alive. I won’t torture him, though he deserves it. I will just make him feel like those women, and then pull a trigger.

 

It may you hurt you, you may grieve him, but you deserve better.”

 

You knew better than to hand write it and send it through mail. You hand delivered it to her house in the early morning.

 

Killing Mr O’stevens was the easy part, but you needed a way of getting him away from the town he was living in.

 

So, the day after you sent Mrs O’stevens her letter, you dressed up like you had spent the night out drinking and walked down a road you knew Mr O’stevens frequently travelled. Your plan worked; I mean he was attracted to you like a moth to a flame.

 

He rolled down his car window and shouted;

 

“Hey, need a ride?”

 

You knew that you had to play hard to get, you knew that’s what he liked.

 

“Oh no, I am alright, thank you though.”

 

“I insist. It’s cold and quite frankly its dangerous to be walking alone.”

 

“I really don’t want to bother you; I live a far distance away.”

 

“You are not bothering me, please get in.”

“Erm, Okay.”

 

With that your plan was rolling into motion. You hid your gun, a .40 caliber glock, under your skirt. Though it was different to what you were used to, you couldn’t conceal a rifle.

 

He put his hand on your thigh and whisper in a low tone;

 

“I think you should repay me for been so kind to you. Don’t you?”

 

Oh, had he just asked the wrong person that.

 

“No, no I don’t.”

 

“Really? You think I should just allow you a free ride?”

 

“If you want me to get out, I can. But I am not repaying you shit, you offered.”

 

“Woah pretty lady, calm down. You only have to give me head, that’s all I want.”

 

“I am not giving you head.”

 

“Well, I didn’t really mean to ask you. I’m going to make you.”

 

He really was a piece of work.

 

“No, you are not. I am going to make you pay for all the other women you have hurt, you’re a sick son of a bitch. Now shut the fuck up and keep driving.”

 

You pulled the gun from under your skirt and held it to his head.

 

“I bet you think your wife is going to miss you. Huh? She won’t. Your daughter won’t even remember you. And your victims they’ll be glad you’re dead.”

 

He didn’t say a word for a while, he was crying though.


After around 20 minutes he spook:

 

“Why me? How did you find me?”

 

“I don’t reveal my secrets. Now keep going, you only have another 10 minutes left.”

 

You had made sure the spot you were in was quiet. No one would catch you in the act, it was the perfect spot.

 

He didn’t say another word, not until he was out of the car and on his knees.

 

“Please, please don’t kill me?”

 

“It’s a little too late to be begging for your life.”

 

“Please I am sorry, I won’t do it again.”

 

“You won’t do it again, because you won’t be alive.”

 

With that you put the gun to his temple and saw his eyes fill with fear.

 

“Maybe before you die, if you beg for forgiveness, you won’t face a miserable afterlife.”

 

With that you pulled the trigger. You saw the life drain from him. It was satisfying, you felt the same rush you had felt from killing those deer.

[myokk]

“She’s tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me”😤😤😤

(Regency AU with Eloise and Sebastian inspired by my slow trek through Bridgerton these days & @bassicallymaestra ‘s AMAZING regency inspired art😮‍💨😇🙏)

[jev-urisk]

A Musing Monday 🎐

Today I'm musing about extradimensional spaces! Like Mary Poppin's bag, or 'eatery that connects to an isekai' anime, or your mind, even.

I do think the mind is a type of extradimensional space. We fit the essence of so many places and moments and people into the folds of our memory, contained in the little box that is our skulls. We imagine worlds, we dream entirely separate lifetimes. It's wild, and amazing, and a little terrifying.

Occasionally I think about how the entire world around me is MY world- in that my only access to reality is through my own interpretations, experiences, and the senses that link to my brain, all of which may or may not be close to the truth of reality. When I die one day, my world dies too- not one creature on earth will live in the same world that I knew due to my relationship with everything perceivable to me.

Before I get TOO existential here though (or maybe I'm getting more existential)- think of what that means for writers! We are masons crafting gateways to extradimensional spaces. Through what we do, people can visit the pocket dimensions of OUR minds, dimensions that have the possibility to continue existing long after the mind/wold that created it expires. And because everyone perceives things through their own lens, writing one story and sharing it creates the potential for countless alternate dimensions; every soul that reads your work will carry their own personal version of it in their mind. If you have a hit count or something similar on your work, THAT'S how many dimensions you've created, at least.

Not only that, but when someone reads what you've written, THEIR world alters. It may be slight, your work or your post might provide a momentary reprieve from the part of their world they're avoiding or decompressing from (which is still a very important thing), or it may give them an idea of their own, it may motivate them to make one choice over another choice, it may alter the very way they think and interact with their family, their partners, themselves. You very well may alter the fabric of what a person is, the dimension of their mind warping with the way it interacts with your dimension.

Never forget that as a writer, or any creator of art for that matter, you are a world-builder, a world-shatterer, a world-repairer; a powerful and magical being that may alter the course of history. Writing is magic, and it's sorcery, and I desperately hope even the small unconfident blogs on here recognize that power.

Tagging a bunch of cool writers: @cowboybrunch @the-golden-comet @lychhiker-writes @wyked-ao3 @rotting-moon-writes

@saturnine-saturneight @asablehart @tragedycoded @autism-purgatory @marlowethelibrarian

If I didn't tag you you're still super cool! The world of my brain is just made of swiss cheese and glitches a lot 🫠💕

@dragoninatrenchcoat @words-after-midnight @sableglass @gioiaalbanoart @illarian-rambling

@badscientist @officialauthorofanotherworld

[grymmdark]

i really like the idea of an AU where vash and wolfwood kinda get forced into co-parenting a baby independent plant. like vash hears about a towns plant thats dying and goes to check up on it and then he walks outta there holding a baby and both him and wolfwood are very confused and stressed cus they cam barely take care of themselves let alone a baby let alone a baby whose development and care neither of them know jack shit about.

i think being forced into a situation where they both have to care for another living being together would probably be enough to force them to confess their love, or at least be much more obvious about it but technically never say anything even though they both very much are aware theyre in love.

[gd-dollopole]

I can’t stop thinking about a poisoned Arthur, who’s not sick with just any poison. Maybe he’s hit by someone with magic and he has no collateral effects, except that of his body slowly dying.

It doesn’t matter if takes years or months or weeks or days, Arthur knows that one day, he will die. He does not get weaker or unable to do things, he just dissipates, and he knows the moment when he’ll be forever gone.

Everybody knows.

Although, there is a cure to his poisoned body, the only one, but Arthur refuses to take it.

Because if he cures himself of the deadly poison, the price to pay is too high:

he will forever forget the person he loves the most, and will never be able to love them again. His memory will be wiped out each time it comes back.

And Arthur doesn’t want to forget Merlin.

Arthur would rather die in the knowledge that he loves him and has known him, than live a life without Merlin by his side, and without his love and care.

[hollowsart]

@rancid-zinnia-onthepatio

hi hello, so uhm.. -drops this and runs-

thank you for the meal that is your [fic].

I started sketching this as soon as I read this scene. like I actually backed out and opened medibang just to sketch it before continuing to read LOL

it's ok y/n, we're all deeply unwell for that stupid man. I want to chew on him and savor him like the juiciest slab of meat.

[clone-wars-winter-challenge]

Here are your hints!

This clone is a romantic man. He may not always show it, especially when his brothers are around, but he is a hidden softy for you. He loves planning dates, especially around the holidays. He wants to walk through the night, stargazing with a cup of hot cocoa in hand, before snuggling up under warm fluffy blankets and a Christmas movie, a plate of cookies beside you. He never admits he's getting tried, and that he will fall asleep first during the movie, he's to stubborn, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

HI IM BACK COZ I REMEMBERED YOU WRITE FOR DAISY JOHNSON

can i pleaseeeeee request i think its 31 and 40 from the planetary prompts for her and a romantic ftm reader?

im quite sure 31 and 40 are the fever one and the can i stay with you while you sleep!

30. "You're not dying, you have a small fever."

41. "Can I keep you company while you sleep?"

CW: sickness, dramatics, fluff, language, kissing, ftm!Reader

"You're not dying, you have a small fever." Daisy gives you a look, almost managing to hide the upwards curl of her lips.

“I’m dying,” you moan, dramatically draped across your shared bed. “My body hurts and everything feels hot.”’

She huffs and leaves her computer to tug on your shirt. “Come on. Up. You’re hurting because you’re still wearing your binder.”

You sit up, grumbling the whole way. “I am not. That’s a totally unrelated issue.”

You let her help take it off anyway, grateful for the way she immediately grabs a new shirt and slips it on you.

You flop back against the bed, huffing in discomfort. But you have to admit, it did help with the pain. You’re not telling her that, though.

You roll onto your side and gaze at her. “I’m tired.”

“So sleep.” She affectionately flicks your forehead.

“But I’ll be lonely without you.” You pout, a bout of shivers running through you. You burrow under the blankets, covering your head. It only helps a little.

Daisy says something, but you can’t quite make it out.

“What?”

She lifts the blankets. “I said, can I keep you company while you sleep? I can move my computer so you won’t be lonely.”

You don’t hesitate, not even for a moment. “Yes!”

You scoot over, making room for her. She gives you a shrewd look. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

You give her a grin. “Maybe. It worked, didn’t it?”

She sighs and grabs her computer. “Cheeky little bastard. You’re lucky I love you so much.”

Your grin only widens. She gets comfortable next to you on the bed and you snuggle into her, tangling your legs with hers. “I am lucky. I snagged the most badass woman in all of SHIELD.”

Daisy laughs and leans down to kiss your forehead. “Oh? You think I’m badass?”

You lean up to catch her lips with yours. “Always.”

[kzele]

Unpopular TSSM Opinion

Sha-Shan was a better example of a serious moral compass love interest to Flash than Gwen was to, well, anybody.

The gal clearly has no problem turning a guy down until they've proven he isn't a too much of a douche. And she doesn't care how popular they are. If they make make the right, but hard choices, then they've got her interest.

Gwen, on the other hand, can’t seem to judge any of her friend’s moods or situations correctly and make an appropriate decision. For instance, whether as friends or love interests she and Harry are a dumpster fire. When the guy passes out in the courtyard and then avoids her, what does she do? Does she (a) tell her COP dad about it at home, (b) tell Harry’s father, (c) tell a teacher/coach/school counselor AKA any other figure in a position of actual authority? Nope. She tells Peter that something’s wrong with Harry, but doesn’t elaborate enough for him to take her concerns seriously, so he puts it among the lesser problems he has to deal with. Because if Peter was actually told the specifics, this would be MUCH higher on his problems list. There’s no way he’d have to be bullied into talking with Harry, otherwise. (Also, how is it possible that she couldn’t sense anything off about Eddie after he returned to the lab? He’s obviously creepy and fake and you’ve known him since you were both in single digits. If it was just Eddie this happened with, I wouldn’t be having my doubts about her judgement.)

This brings me to my next point about boundaries. Peter respects hers more than she respects his. Thus, she can only enforce her boundaries and/or will if someone already respects her. Harry and Gwen’s full-on couple status is proof. Harry’s shoved her against a locker, jumped over her during a villain attack (did he ever apologize for that?), and the first thing he does is ignore his new girlfriend in favor of calling his dad about having a girlfriend. Oh, and she’s ignoring all these red flags in an implied attempt to make Peter jealous. Nuff said about that ball of toxicity they got going on.

Flash saw Sha-Shan as a hot nerd/rebound, then as a challenge, and finally as someone whom he wants to be respected by. She didn’t let him get anywhere by being a jerk or overstepping. Granted, she had the benefit of not caring about Flash’s opinion of her, like Gwen would with long-time friends. And yet, despite being very judgy about him at the start, once they’re together she understands that Flash will say/do dumb things but it doesn’t take away from his good heart. Sha-Shan accepts him and his flaws. Ironically, despite Gwen being in love with Peter over Harry, you’ll be hard-pressed to find a time where she cuts Peter any slack for anything even when it’s not his fault. Including and up to not dying.(Not actually joking about that. See Christmas Tree aftermath s2ep3.) Maybe it’s just me, but I swear Harry and Eddie could be be kicking puppies off the Brooklynn Bridge in front of her and she’d be giving Peter the silent treatment for missing her calls trying to stop it.

I'm aware that Gwen isn't evil whatsoever but I find her immensely frustrating when TSSM has better female characters to choose from. And this post is for other people who agree with me. I'm not denying the flaws of anyone else here, be it Peter or Harry or whoever else, but I can't cover my thoughts on all the dynamics at play here without overloading my laptop and this site. I feel like Gwen's actions in the show get glossed over a lot. I've seen Peter and Harry get criticized for their actions and sympathy for their differently bad lives within the show, but Gwen. . .doesn't get that same scrutiny. She makes objectively horrible/stupid choices about how to go about things in her relationships but somehow she seems to get less spotlight shed on those things. Instead, the responsibility is often shoved the two guys for screwing up, despite either having far more on their plate or a bad home life. Anyways, I've rambled incoherently enough. Hope it brought you some food for thought even if you don't agree with everything.

[rahabs]

Things Done and Damaged [ read on A03 ]

"What did you do?"

Following the battle, Lucifer heals Alastor's wounds. He has no way of knowing this Charlie-induced act of benevolence will have unintended consequences for them both.