#I DID THE THING

[0xeyedaisy]

Haaiiiii :3

#lethal company #ultrakill #blood #monart #I did the thing

[pearl-blue-musings]

MY FAVORITE LOL

Are you sure you wanna write Adam and only one bed trope??????

AHAHAHAHAHA

AHAHAHAHAH OMGGGGG

“What the fuck do you mean there’s one bed you dumb bitch?”

You roll your eyes and thank the hotel concierge and take your bags toward the elevator. “She means,” you try to downplay his words. “The room we booked is only one bed and all that’s available.”

Adam rolls his eyes and quickly walks toward your assigned room. He jams the the key into the slot and opens the door. He throws his bag onto the bed and flops onto it. “Really? I thought she was talking to the people behind us. No shit there’s only one bed! I can fucking see that, I’m on the one bed!” He sighs and runs his hand down his face. “Don’t they know who the fuck I am??”

You roll your eyes and push his bags off the bed. “We’re literally in hell on a recon mission.” You sigh deeply and rub your eyebrows. “Lute couldn’t be here so I’m here with you. Since you’re fucking Adam-“

“I thought I told you to call me dick master.”

“What the fuck ever, you’re gonna sleep in the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” you finally finish. You look around the room for an extra pair of linens and start to get your “bed” ready on the floor. You miss Adam take off his mask and roll his eyes at you getting comfortable on the floor. Against his better judgement after changing into something more comfortable, he sighs and moves to one side of the bed.

He coughs to get your attention. “Hey, you look like an idiot on the floor. Just,” he sighs, “take this small part of the bed. Don’t touch me alright?”

You squint your eyes in suspicion but follow his words. You carefully get into the bed and take up only about 10% of it. Adam finally relaxes and takes most of the covers. He spreads out almost spread eagle, his hand hitting the back of your head as you lay on your side. You grip the sheets with a shiver as you’re annoyed at how comfortable he is taking up most of the bed. You continue to feel him shift in his sleep and you try to finally find some yourself.

About 30 minutes in, you suddenly feel a pair of hands on your waist and your body being pulled in.

You give a tiny yelp and suddenly feel his warm body behind yours. You don’t dare move for fear of what he’ll say, but you tru anyways. “Umm, Adam? Why are you…?”

“I swear to god bitch if you don’t shut the fuck up and let me cuddle you.” He pauses, his breath hot on your neck as his legs intertwine with yours. “Having someone close fucking helps me sleep, bitch. And, you’re someone I actually tolerate more than Lute.”

For as long as you’ve worked with him, you’ve never heard Adam sound like this, his voice strangely demure. You hide your smile from him as you place your hands over his. Behind you, Adam blushes and pulls you tightly into him. He won’t admit it, but he’s secretly glad there is only one bed as he’s able to touch you in ways he’s only imagined.

But he’ll never tell you that, he’d have to be on his death bed to get a confession out of him.

#yara’s shell friends #lee 🎗️ #YEEEESSSSS #I LIKED DOING THIS ONE #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x reader #adam x you #my writing #i did the thing

[mindtrcks]

oh, dilute me

Pairing: Tyler Galpin/Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: AFAB reader, manipulation, light d/s

Summary: Tyler can’t have Wednesday, but he might still be able to have you

So Wednesday knows. So Wednesday was bound to figure it out, because she’s nothing if not stubborn, and Tyler stood no chance against the Addams’ family values that have been instilled in her. The values that tell her not to trust, and not to forget, and certainly not to give up. So Tyler can’t have Wednesday.

But he might still be able to have you.  

He keeps the act up in the police station; it’s clear Wednesday’s not buying it, but you keep avoiding his gaze and biting the inside of your cheek and he thinks he still has you on the line. You’re not tense and sharp like Wednesday, not glaring at him from across the room. You’re still making yourself small, still staring mostly at the ground, remaining silent while Wednesday takes the blame for everything. While Wednesday gets expelled. While Wednesday gets out of the picture.

She’s seething when Tyler’s dad finally steps away, you standing by her side looking like you don’t know what to do. Wednesday has lost . Tyler’s sure that was never in the cards when you followed her to that shed. And now you’re out of your depth. Torn between your friend who's supposed to know everything and the guy who’s supposed to be a murderer, and Tyler knows you like him far more than you could ever like Wednesday. He stands up from the bench he’d been occupying and walks toward you, keeping his shoulders hunched and his eyes skirting. He’s gotten good at playing the victim, at garnering sympathy. Your eyes zero in on him immediately, he can hear your sharp intake of breath.

He says your name once he’s close enough, whispered and reverent and betrayed. Your lips press together like you’re holding back tears , and isn’t that something? Doesn’t that mean that he’s won you, too?

Your eyes flick to Wednesday, worry clear on your face, but Wednesday doesn’t look at you. She doesn’t soothe your doubts or reassure you that you did the right thing. And that’s her first mistake, because that’s what you need. You need somebody to look you in the eye and say it’s alright , to hold your hands and tell you that you’re good . Tyler’s known that about you since the first time you walked into the Weathervane, with a small voice and fleeting gaze. Tyler’s known that about you since before he knew your name.

“This isn’t over,” Wednesday says, staring up at him with those same dead eyes as always. The sad part is that she believes it, believes there’s some way she can win, still. But Tyler’s got the police, and Tyler’s got the school, and now Tyler’s on his way to having you, and Wednesday isn’t even putting up a fight. It’s pathetic.

She walks past him, shoulder checks him as she does, and he winces for effect. He’s still battered and bruised from Wednesday’s torture, but the pain is nothing to what he’s felt before. You don’t need to know that, though. You’re still standing in front of him, watching Wednesday walk away, and Tyler side-steps until he’s the only thing in your view, waiting patiently until you finally look in his eyes.

It really does look like you’re about to cry. He’d do anything to see the tears fall. “I’m sorry,” you say, your voice shaky and soft. “I should’ve trusted you, I don’t know why—”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, grabbing your hands. Instantly, they stop shaking, and a pretty pink blush spreads across your face. You’re so much easier than Wednesday; Tyler could have made this all go so much smoother if he’d never let Wednesday get under his skin. If he’d looked past the glamor of the shiny new toy to see you behind her, ready to be pushed, ripe for the taking. He sees you now, though, a delicate flower trusting him to hold it, trusting him not to crush it in his palms. “I know how convincing she can be.”

You look down, embarrassed, maybe, or just still not able to hold eye contact with him. “I should’ve stopped her anyway,” you mutter, pulling your hands out of his and towards your own chest.

Your guilt is thick in the air and Tyler knows he’ll be able to milk that for ages; instead of reassuring you again, he just ducks his head down, revels in the way you instinctively step forward. “It’s over now,” he says, letting his eyes skirt up to your face. “Do you want a ride back to Nevermore?”

You trust him enough to get in a car with him; Tyler wonders what else he can get you to do.

—

He’s fighting Enid in the woods when he realizes he has to make a choice.

There’s no way he wins this; even if he snapped Enid’s neck and left her for dead, he wouldn’t walk out of these woods a winner. Because after Enid, he’d have to go through Wednesday, have to go through the principal, have to go through anybody else who's been convinced of his guilt, and by the time he was done with that, he’d already be in a prison cell. So if he wants to win, if he wants to leave this mess behind him and walk away a free man, an innocent man, he has to make a choice.

Enid gets a paw at him, and he lets himself be pushed into a tree, lets his head hit the cold bark, lets himself slide down until he’s shivering and naked on the leaves, and Enid’s staring at him with wide eyes.

“Tyler,” she says, cautiously, both of them human again now. She ducks down to pick up a stick, holds it out like it’s a sword. “Stay right where you are. I’m not afraid to use this thing.”

He blinks up at her, intending to look confused and out of it. “Enid?” he asks. “What the hell is going on?”

She narrows her eyes, but lowers the stick anyway, and Tyler knows that he’s going to get away with this.

—

He stumbles out of the woods wrapped in a bright pink coat, eyes scanning the crowd of disgruntled students as he looks for something he can latch onto.

Of course you’re the first person he sees.

He hasn’t had time to think about how he’s going to play this yet, but when he spots you standing there, staring at him with wide eyes and fingers twitching at your sides, he gets an idea. He pulls the coat further around himself, makes sure he’s shaking enough for it to be visible as he approaches you. He watches as you take him in, cataloging the scrapes and bruises, the dirt on his skin. He says your name, and your eyes flick to his face. “I—” he starts, ready to rattle off something untrue and pitiful, something that’ll make your gaze soften, that’ll make you reach out to touch him.

But you’re interrupting him before he can, stepping forward and jutting up your chin. “It’s over now,” you say, echoing his words in the police station, and he freezes. Tries to scan through his memory to find what he got wrong, because he had you, he knows he had you, why are you—

His careening train of thought is once more cut off when you take both of his hands in your own—you have a thing for stealing his moves, evidently. “I don’t want to know,” you say, looking grim. Looking like you really already do know. Tyler’s panicking a little; this is his last card to play, and if you don’t believe him, and Wednesday doesn’t believe him, then nobody will. He furrows his brows, doesn’t have to fake the confusion in his eyes. “Whatever lie you’re spinning,” you continue. “I don’t want to hear. Save it for the police.”

And that’s not what Tyler was expecting. But he can work with it. Right? Sure, maybe you know more than he thought. Maybe you don’t trust him the way you were pretending to. But you’re still here. You’re still holding his hands, fingers on his pulse point, and standing close enough that your hips are touching his. You’re not what he thought, but you’re not as bad as you could be; you’re not Wednesday, who's already glaring from across the crowd. You’re not on your way back to the station, ready to tell the whole world that Wednesday was right.

You’re here, with him.

—

His story is that it was all Thornhill. She manipulated him, tricked him into killing people and he didn’t know anything about any of it.  

You’re next to him in the police station as he gives the official statement to his dad. He’s wearing your clothes—pajamas you’d rummaged through your dorm room for while he stood in the doorway, not knowing what to say or how to act. He still doesn't. He doesn't know what you know or what you’re thinking or what your plan is. But he knows you’re here, and for now that’s the only thing he really cares about. He gives the statement, lets his dad hug him and apologize, rattle on about how it’s his fault.

And then he looks at you. He doesn't know where he's supposed to go next, what he's supposed to do next. But he does know that wherever you go, he'll follow.

—

Six months later, and he's enrolled at Nevermore.

The general student population leaves him be; in a school for outcasts, he's not the strangest one there. He can skirt by without being noticed by most. Fly under the radar, go unrecognized. People who don't remember what happened, who weren't there that night in the woods, assume he's a wolf; they don't question why there has to be a special set of chains for him in the nurse’s office. They don't question anything.

There are a few exceptions. They come mostly in the form of Wednesday’s friends. They look at him like they're sorry for him, sorry that he's there, sorry for what he is, or sorry that they locked him in a shed and tortured him not even a year ago. It makes Tyler’s skin crawl, their pity, their guilt. It's like he's the one who's supposed to absolve them, and he's got no interest in doing that. But he supposes it's better than them knowing . Anything would be better than them knowing.

The only people who know are you and Wednesday. The latter reacts about how he would expect; she glares at him in classes they share, calls him a monster in the hallways for everybody to hear. She avoids spending any time with him at all unless she has to, and she rarely has to. She hates him, that much is clear, but Tyler doesn't mind. It seems like she's given up on trying to convict him, which is all he really cared about. She's moved on to bigger things. In a place like this, with people like him, there's always a monster to hunt. For Wednesday, Tyler is last year’s obsession.

For you, the story is different.

Because you know. He knows you know; how could you not? You know what he did and you know all the things he lied about, and you know how he's still lying now. But you don't seem to mind. You act like nothing's changed. You spend your weekends in his dorm, your free periods sitting with your legs tangled up in his. You brush your fingers over his cheekbones, smirk and whisper things under your breath that only he can hear. If his life was once sink or swim, now the only thing he can do is drown in you. He's wearing your clothes more often than he wears own; he's with you more often than he’s not.

He knows he should be concerned. He's supposed to have the upper hand over you, supposed to make your cheeks flush and your words tumble out of your mouth. But he’s increasingly finding that the opposite is true. One look from you and he forgets everything he's ever taught himself about not getting attached, about the danger of distractions. If you say run, he says how far , if you say jump, he'll ask how high?

He doesn't do anything without thinking of you; he does everything hoping it’ll make you happy.

“Like this?” he asks, crooking his fingers as you’d instructed. You sigh and press your face into his shoulder, nodding against his skin. He's best at pleasing you like this, at taking you apart under his hands. He brushes your hair out of your face and presses deeper, harder, reveling in the way you gasp. He’s always done anything to get you stay; if only he knew back when he met you that this is what it takes.

You lift a hand to push at his, say, “ Okay ,” all out of breath, and he knows immediately to stop, eyes flicking up at you, waiting for direction. “Okay, Tyler. I want your mouth now.”

He makes a pitiful sound that he would've been embarrassed about a year ago, but doesn't think twice of now as he pushes himself further down the bed, lifts your legs up and over his shoulders. You’re already wet; he’s been fingering you for God knows how long, but he would’ve kept going until his fingers cramped up if you wanted him to. He’s glad you didn’t. He likes tasting you so much better, and he wastes no time getting to work now that he’s got permission.

You’ve said before he eats you out like he’s starved for it. Maybe he is. As he licks at you, your thighs trapping him in place and your hand pulling ever-so-slightly where it's buried in his hair, he feels as though his taste for blood has been replaced with a taste for you. Maybe that was your plan all along, get him addicted to this so he won’t do that again. If it was, it’s working. You’re the only person he’ll kill for now.

“Just like that,” he hears you breath out, your hips lifting up to grind into his face. He squeezes his eyes shut, moves his tongue faster. His own hips are searching for friction against the bedsheets, but it’s fruitless. You still haven’t touched him, and he knows he won't be able to come until you do. He can’t find it in himself to be frustrated, though, not when you’re letting him do this. Not when he can hear you gasping above him, when he can feel you wet against his lips.

He’s done this enough times that he can tell when you’re about to come. You grip at the sheets, your hand in his hair tightening enough to sting. He can feel your legs tense up, your thighs quiver. But what gives it away are the little punched-out moans that start tearing out of your mouth, loud enough they almost sound like sobs. Tyler hums against you, shifts the angle so work his tongue inside you and nose at your clit.

At that, you cry out, shaking underneath him, and he knows you’ve finished, but he doesn't stop, doesn’t pull away until you sink back into the bed and brush your knuckles over his cheekbone. When you pull him up to kiss him all slow and sweet, there are tear tracks on your cheeks.

He once thought he'd give anything to see you cry; turns out, all he had to give was himself. 

#wednesday #tyler galpin #tyler galpin x reader #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #i did the thing #this is what people post on tumblr right #reader insert #i also posted this on ao3 it isn't plagiarism i swear

[carebooks]

ambrosius asking who nimona was, ballister should’ve answered with, “our new daughter” with nimona in the corner with a clearly fake adoption certificate that she more than likely annoyed ballister to sign

#this is how nimona remembers it duh #is this not what happened #tell me im wrong #i did the thing #hope you like my art #i drew it #nimona #she clearly signed for them #and she (and i) couldnt give a single fuck into drawing the directors face #ballister blackheart #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin

[aesnawan]

Sticker, the clone trooper

#I did the thing #star wars #my art #star wars fanart #clone wars #clone commander #clone trooper #the bad batch #aesnawan

[spaghettiisinmysoul]

MOTHERFUCKER WON

#dndads #sketti draws #Glenn close dndads #hot glenn autumn #sexiest podcast character poll #shirtless Glenn #I did it #I did the thing #here he is

[hearvex]

gay and european

#i did the thing #georgenotfound #gnf #my edits #h talks

[t0tentanz]

#i did the thing #they love cocks #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #saints row #Johnny gat #literally some shit johnny would say unironically

[mobumiesworld]

Johan and Daniel ^_^

#lookism #digital art #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #webtoon lookism #lookism fanart #my artwork #johan lookism #daniel lookism #i did the thing

[phantomrose96]

My manager and my project lead both gave me glowing glowing reviews on this project (my lead even CC'd my skip-level and skip-skip-level with his praise and they both responded) even after I spent all of January and February worried that I was slipping behind with work because I was busy being an overwhelmed shell of a person

#chrissy speaks #im still in a weird mental space but its getting better #it was such a huge relief to be like 'oh so i havent been being side-eyed at work?' #January was such a blur of overwhelming stress I hardly even remember what work I did #but apparently I did it #I was super seriously considering speaking up in January like 'i cant swing it' #cuz this was a super rush-order super hi-pri project I got pulled into #(like... hand-picked....) #with CEO of Microsoft level awareness and involvement #I was seriously gonna be like 'due to life cirumstances exploding i am a mess and I cannot be your guy' #('im not capable of being the guy. you had a guy but now you dont--') #but i was the guy #I did the thing #under better circumstances I feel like I could have done the thing in half the time #but I did the thing........

[msue0027]

#i did the thing #it's been so long some1 had to think about it right? #also #guess who's not learning for uni #meme #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable partners #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable idiots #ineffable spouses #how many names for your ship do you want? yes. #and those not all #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #apocalypse #4 horsemen #4 horsemen of apocalypse #go #good omens 2

[pearl-blue-musings]

heaven let your light shine down

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!fem!reader

A/N: this was something that manifested from shower thoughts and my current obsession with hazbin hotel. There’s none of this yet but there will be themes of manipulation, heartbreak, heavy emotions, fun times, spoilers, show theories, good times

Word count: ~1.8K

Taking a secret trip to hell from heaven wasn’t as smooth as you thought it would be. Sneakily arriving in the embassy through whatever portal Emily opened for you was less than ideal. You landed on the hard ground of heaven’s embassy with a thud and shook yourself off. When your eyes adjust to the dimness of the new world around you, you’re quick to cover your nose. You didn’t know much about Hell, but you were briefly aware of the smell it emitted.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you take in the sights around you. The embassy was strikingly see through and gave you a clear view of Pentagram City. You never understood why Heaven needed an embassy in Hell but right now you’re happy there is one. The weight on your back feels lighter as you realize your wings retracted. Oh right, you forgot that Emily helped you to retract and hide your wings as to not bring too much attention to yourself. However, being indiscreet was not an option. Above you a bright light where the portal is closing shines, alerting everyone within a 10 mile radius someone has entered the Heaven embassy.

Shit.

The bag you brought with you lays haphazardly on the floor as you try to compose yourself. A growing buzzing sound gets closer and closer to the gates of the embassy. It’s been years since you’ve felt your heart race in a panic over your life, and you’re not sure what to hold onto. Of course they saw you, silly! You can’t just portal into Hell and not expect some kind of audience. Simple, you’ll just go over all the things you practiced and rehearsed saying before you snuck out of Heaven.

The doors bang and clang open, determined and angry faces with mounted weapons pointed at you greet you. You yelp as Charlie, you remember her from the meeting, bundles toward you. Her horns stand bright and red atop her head, eyes ablaze with indignation. Behind her and to the right is Vaggie, her hair blowing almost ethereally as her poke arm is pointed at you. The porn star known as Angel Dust has all of his guns cocked and loaded, ready to take aim at your heart. There’s some kind of cat like demon and someone with a cane with an evil and calculating yet far off look in the back. And reigning above all of that is the king of Hell himself.

Lucifer.

You’ve only heard of him by name, never by face. Always being fed that he’s a deceiver, a true sinner, and disbeliever. He and his wife, ex-wife you correct to yourself, are the reason there are so many sinners in Hell in the first place. You gulp loudly and try to compose yourself. You clear your throat with a cough and start out your practiced speech. “Ah, hello! I’m-“

“What does Heaven want? Are they trying another extermination in a week? Well I’ve got news for you, we’re ready for whatever they’re gonna send us. We killed Adam and a bunch of other angels! We’re not afraid to make an example out of you!” Charlie’s commanding speech leaves your throat dry as you feel yourself shrink under their intense gazes. You see her and Lucifer approach you in a threatening manner. Your hands immediately go up and you fall to your knees.

With a wail, you cry out in pity. “Please don’t hurt me! I-I come in peace!” In the distance you hear a “hah” but keep going. “Heaven, uh heaven doesn’t know I’m here. Except for Emily, she knows I’m here; but that’s it!” Your truth appears to fall on disbelieving ears as they bundle closer to you. The point of Vaggie’s pole arm has gotten dangerously close to your nose and your voice gets stuck in your throat. You try to swallow the lump forming inside as you grab your bag. All eyes shift to your movement and you put up a hand in protest.

“W-wait! Please I’m here with good news! And evidence of said news.” You scramble in your bag for a couple pieces of paper and hand them to Charlie. “Charlie, please look at this with your own eyes. I swear I’m not making this up!” You notice her shoulders gradually lower and the horns retract in her head. The normal color of her eyes return to normal as she reads over the first page. Her eyes visibly soften as tears come to her eyes along with a smile. She blinks a couple times before looking at you. Her voice is soft and untrusting.

“Is this, is this true?” You nod as you pull out the second paper.

“I asked him to write his last memories down on paper. You know,” you begin to ramble, “when you enter Heaven you start to lose your memories of your former life and we’re not sure the stature of this regarding-“

Vaggie shushes you with a prick of her weapon as she slowly approaches Charlie. The Princess of Hell falls to her knees and reaches out a hand to you. With a soft chuckle she mutters, “It worked.”

You nod vigorously while taking her hand to stand up. “That’s why I’m here! I, I wanted to tell you as soon as I saw him.” The paper you handed Charlie gets shown to the rest of the group. They all lower their weapons and their guard as they start to smile. Lucifer slowly descends toward you to get a better view of the official Heavenly document. He walks up to you and eyes you carefully, noticing your halo but lack of wings. His eyes squint as he looks you over. You can sense he doesn’t entirely trust you and that’s understandable.

But does he have to be that close?

You cough and pick up the other paper, trying desperately to ignore the way your stomach feels and the nervousness that’s increasing. “I also asked him to write down his memories and he said “I was protecting the hotel and my dearest Cherri with my egg boys by my side. If you can please let them know I made it to heaven and I miss you all dearly! Okay bye!””

The whole group begins to laugh and cry at the words and news being shared. Hugs are happening all around and small chatter begins within the embassy. A warm smile grows on your face as you see new faith and hope restored in the demons in front of you. It makes you giddy with glee to see them look hopeful for the future, you start to dance a little bit to yourself. Momentarily, you forgot that a certain King of Hell has been watching you the whole time.

Lucifer clears his throat to get your attention. “What, what is this some happy dance? You’re not here to hurt Charlie are you?”

You shake your head, noticing the buzz of conversation happening around you. “Oh no! I want to help her. A-all of you!” You take a deep breath and wave your hands in the air to get everyone’s attention. “I was at the meeting. I saw Angel Dust do all the right things to get into Heaven! And it’s not fair that angels have all this power and don’t know what it means to get into Heaven! I wanted Sera to approve of the hotel because, because I believe in your mission! So please,” you extend a hand toward the crowd, “let me help you.”

With their guidance, the members of the Hazbin Hotel walk with you toward the almost redone building. Straggling behind you is Lucifer, unsure of just what another Angel is doing in his realm. Sure, he had figured out about Vaggie and was fine with that. But that’s different. You as an angel willingly came down to Hell to help, you must have some ulterior motive. However, he can’t help but have your words hit that soft spot inside him; it makes him want to know more about you. How did someone like you get on the counsel, and why would you risk your rank and heavenly status for demons? In his mind it didn’t make any logical sense.

You had heard the hotel was badly damaged in the fight and was surprised to see how much better it looks now. There’s still some renovations to be done inside in which you offered your angelic powers to help build and restore the hotel. Upon entering, you are greeted by someone who wasn’t at the embassy with you, someone you assumed was left to watch over the hotel in their absence. The aura he gives off makes a shiver run down your spine.

Alastor eyes you quickly, understanding immediately that you’re an Angel. His eyes squint and his smile gets more sinister if that’s possible. He trots over to you and sticks out his cane. You yelp in surprise and look up into his crimson gaze. “Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting another Angel so soon! There must be a reason why Charlie hasn’t killed you yet, allow me to do what she can’t.” Menacing antlers start to grow and multiply atop his head as he grows in size, his lifeless eyes never leaving your visage. You stumble backwards onto the floor and backup until you hit a pair of legs.

Lucifer puts a hand on your shoulder as Charlie stands in front of you waving her arms enthusiastically. “Um, Alastor,” she starts, “she’s here to help.” In that instant, the radio demon shrinks back down to normal size and wipes off his vest. He hums, glaring at you and Lucifer, the latter who had lifted you to your feet, before he retreats to his own quarters. You briefly hear him say “apologies dear Angel, you must know we’re still on edge from a few days ago. I shall see you again.” A sigh of relief escapes your lips and you lean back. You quickly scramble away upon realizing you fell back into Lucifer.

“S-sorry!”

“You alright there?”

The two of you spoke at the same time, causing some minor embarrassment. Although he’s shorter than you thought, it’s clear his presence, power, and personality can fill up a room. You feel your cheeks heat up, a sensation you haven’t felt in who knows how long as the two of you strangely keep staring at each other. You take a step back, skipping toward Charlie while asking, “hey can you show me more of the hotel?”

Lucifer watches his daughter walk off with you joyfully to show you more of the rebuilt hotel. He places his left hand over his heart watching the two of you interact. It ignites something in him and he lets himself smile softly, resting his weight on his cane. As he drums his fingers across his chest, he’s starting to feel the weight of the gold band on his finger.

Strange, he’s never felt the weight of it before, just what could possibly be changing that now?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar x fem!reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer x female reader #my writing #i did the thing

[sluttyhenley]

baby, I know any storm we're facing will blow right over while we stay put the house don't fall when the bones are good

#911edit #911 of fox #maddie buckley #chimney han #evan buckley #eddie diaz #bobby nash #michael grant #madney #buck x eddie #tvedit #tvgifs #* #9 1 1 #reachingforaspark #i did the thing #something about building homes together #and building relationships #foundations and families

[ambeauty]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Bear (TV 2022) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sydney Adamu/Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto Characters: Sydney Adamu, Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto Additional Tags: Failed Date, Intense Eye Contact, Sexy Restaurant Shenanigans, When I see a pretty lady in a pretty dress my mind runs wild, yes they have sex Summary:

“Ok so why are you here?” She fills the silence as she enjoys her own food after she knows Carmy approves.

“Um, I was working on something at the apartment and forgot my knife. Didn’t think I’d find you using it, and wearing my shoes, and singing at the top of your lungs. It was a sight for sore eyes for sure.”

“Shut up.” She punches him lightly in the shoulders.

“We missed - we, I missed you. Doesn’t feel right cooking without you.” He confesses quietly.

“Missed you too.” She breathes next to him. She feels the tips of his fingers brush against her thighs.

One day apart and all their pretenses start to fall away.

“Carm. I wish I had asked you to come with me.” She drops her fork on the table and splays her hands across the table, gripping the edge of the wood.

“Why didn’t you? For real this time.” She feels his knuckles graze her bare skin like encouragement to be more vulnerable.

“Scared.”

“Say more.”

“Scared of you.”

#I did the thing #sydcarmy fic #my fics #those innocent eyes fic #sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #syd x carmy #carmy x sydney #sydcarmy #the wait for s3 is destroying my sanity day by day #but at least the press train is still rolling

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Amy Pond canon-compliant character study (I will rip your heart out just like I did mine)

You are Amy Pond and your best friend is a man who tumbled into your life when you were a child and turned you into the town’s Cassandra, doomed to never be believed, doomed to believe without salvation, and yet your faith in has never wavered, because what would you be without him? You don't remember existing in a world without your god.

You are Amy Pond and you are kind and you have faith until that faith is forcefully broken to save your life. You become Lucy Pevensie, cast out of your kingdom by the only god you have ever believed in, so you choose to build your own kingdom, to make a life out of the wreckage that he left behind.

But that is not enough. It will never be enough. You are not allowed to leave this story. You are not allowed to grow up in a way that matters, because every time you try to choose, every time that you try to build a life of your own, you are dragged back into this story.

You are Amy Pond and this is a horror story, a tragedy, because you were never allowed to make a choice unless that choice is to die. You are not allowed to choose unless it is to kill yourself. You die on Appalappachia. You die in Manhattan. Any time you get to make a decision, death is there, hand outstretched, ready to walk you off the stage.

You are Amy Pond and you are a ghost haunting other people's stories.

You are Amy Pond and you died before you were born.

You are Amy Pond and you are kind even though the world was never kind to you and maybe, just maybe, this would have been a kinder story if you hadn't believed. If you hadn't held faith. If you had let the memory of your imaginary friend slide away.

The world might have ended earlier. The universe might have been worse off. But would you have? Would you have been happier?

The answer doesn't matter in the end. It never did.

Because there's nothing you can do. No other way this story ends.

You are Amy Pond and you do not get to leave. You do not get to change your story. 

You are Amy Pond and you are Amelia Williams and you are Amelia Pond and your story ends as it began: with a girl sitting in a garden, waiting for a man to pick you up and take you to your death.

(Amy Pond and being trapped within the narrative: aka, the question of narrative framing and the consequences of faith.)

Full version of the poem(? Character study?) here:

@twelvesbian @tenmartha @variousqueerthings @spoofymcgee

(Tagging people whose analysises inspired this)

#i did the thing #canon Amy is a fairytale with no happy ending #a story that rips her agency away from her at all times #she only ever gets to choose to die #(well in Season 6 and 7a at least) #come be ruined with me #aletterinthenameofsanity #my fics #fanfic #ao3 #doctor who #eleventh doctor #amy pond #rory williams #river song #it's a story about a girl who is a ghost and cassandra and sleeping beauty and persephone all at once #mentions of suicide #dark #meta

[used-tissue]

Them<3

#i did the thing #ink sans #error sans #errorink #utmv #sans au #i drew these very quickly have mercy on me