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Thirty seconds on this thing would fix me
Can’t believe this freak won the Official 2025 Tumblr Sexyman Contest
btw this post is about Arthur Morgan and John Marston in that order
My favorite fictional characters fall into two categories, those being
1) I want to delicately pin them up in a display case as you would a butterfly in order to study and preserve their every feature and trait and shield them from The Horrors™️
2) I want to put them in a prescription bottle and shake them around
My favorite fictional characters fall into two categories, those being
1) I want to delicately pin them up in a display case as you would a butterfly in order to study and preserve their every feature and trait and shield them from The Horrors™️
2) I want to put them in a prescription bottle and shake them around
stayed up too late thinking about those damned cowboys again
John Lennon I am coming for you
Had a dream someone texted me this and woke up in a cold sweat
I would genuinely be willing to put up with being a woman in the late nineteenth century if I could just give Arthur Morgan a hug
just found a dusty old booklet of harmonica lessons from 1958.
things about to get crazy in here
ma meilleure ennemie is so lemony and ellington coded
I'm taking a class in paper cut out stopframe animation but I made this for fun outside of it in like one evening I literally had one class and was like : time to make the best thing I've ever made. It was like I was touched by the ghost of a really talented garbage collector. Finally I have a way of justifying why I hoard newspapers.
The song is Pet Body by Miya Folick
So I’m not dead. Also I’m currently cooking up the longest thing I’ve ever written. I probably won’t post it until it’s fully complete cause if I post bits and pieces I’m so done bro. But like. I’m getting to work 😈
Oh what am I doing? Oh, you know, just creating an extensive document compiling information for a cosplay I probably won’t (and definitely don’t have the skills to) make
“Bad shit happens to people I care about. You understand me?”
“Then I’ll be fine”
We’re dating in my head in case you were wondering
Guys I’m trying to finish that other Lucifer fic but I haven’t worked on it since like January and the ending is kinda ass but like. I just wanna post it and be done with it 🙌
What ryan gosling movies have you seen 👀
Ok you can’t clown on me too hard but so far it’s just The Fall Guy and The Gray Man(in that order). Drive, La La Land, and Blade Runner 2049 are pretty high up on my to-watch list as of now. If you have any suggests please lmk 🙏 (I saw one film of his and was immediately hooked)
Nightly Ritual (Lucifer x F!Reader)
Description: Lucifer tended to stay up far later than he should, and he certainly wasn't easy to convince to come to bed. You, however, had a few tricks up your sleeve.
Warnings: Fluff (that's it. that's the whole post), sleepy sleepy reader, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like men
Author's Note: This one has been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute now. I've got another one I'm working on and may not finish that has similar vibes with a touch of angst (what can I say, I know what I like). I'm not sure how much Hazbin I'll write for, as I'm not super involved with the fandom at this point. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Word Count: 897
This has been cross-posted on my AO3 account which you can find here.
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Lucifer spent many a night in his workshop working and you spent many a night trying to pull him away from said work and into bed. Besides, what was the point of a king-sized bed if there wasn’t a king to share it with? At some point you realized that if you could get him to enter the bedroom the battle was practically won. But how could you consistently make that happen? The answer fell into your lap one night when you dozed off watching him work. He gazed at you fondly for a moment before finally scooping you up and carrying you off to bed. As soon as he deposited you beneath the sheets you pulled him along with you as he let out a surprised umph. And so this dance of yours began. You would fall asleep in his office and he would carry you to bed. It didn’t take him long for him to catch on to your little game, but he couldn’t help but play along.
Most nights you’d pull up a chair to his desk, your head moving from resting in your palm to laying across your arm as you began to drift off. Other time’s you’d sit next to him, resting your head on his shoulder as he tinkered away. Once or twice you even sat in his lap with your head buried in the crook of his neck as he hummed softly in your ear. Tonight though, you unintentionally mixed things up.
Luci heard the door creak open not too long after supper as you padded into the room. He was a bit surprised. Usually you wouldn’t start this song and dance until much later in the evening. You wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his shoulder as you peered at his current project. Maybe you were just here to watch tonight.
“Whatcha working on?” Though, to be honest, you already knew the answer.
“Oh, just the usual.”
You fell into a comfortable silence. Every now and again you’d ask a question about what he was doing or what tool he was using, to which he would happily answer. After one particularly in depth question he turned to you, “so, you trying to pick up the tools of the trade?”
“How do you know I’m not already an expert?”
“Oh ho ho, I think we both remember what happened last time.”
You swatted at his shoulder playfully, “oh hush you.”
“I’m not the one who almost set the office ablaze,” he raised his eyebrows as he challenged you to retort.
”Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. You should be thankful I took such a tremendous responsibility off your hands.”
“Mhmm,” you could feel his quiet laughter reverberate in his chest. He continued working, humming contently whenever you’d pepper kisses on his cheek. Eventually the frequency of your musings began to slow as he noted your breathing deepening, “you sure you don’t want to come sit in my lap?” While he didn’t want you toppling over, he was reveling in the close contact and would be damned if it ended any time soon.
“Can see what you’re doing better from up here,” the way you mumbled made it evident that sleep was soon to follow.
“You sure you’re not gonna fall asleep back there?”
“Mhmm. ‘m not even that tired.”
He turned and placed a kiss on your cheek, “whatever you say, dear.”
You did, in fact, fall asleep back there. Just as the first soft snore left your lips he felt you begin to slide to the side. He unfurled his wings, keeping you upright until he could turn around and lift you into his arms, “alright missy, let’s get you to bed.” You stirred slightly, lazily reaching an arm over his shoulder to stroke the feathers at the base of his wings as he carried you down the hall. The only clue that he had finally made it to the room was the soft click of the door before he laid you down on the bed. Before you had the chance to pull him down with you he had stepped out of your grasp. You turned to face him, worried that your plan had been unsuccessful this evening, “stay, please.”
“I’ll be right there, just need to slip into something more comfortable.” A few minutes later he climbed under the covers and pulled you to him, the warmth of bare chest pulling you in like a duckling to its mother.
You looped an arm around him once more, tracing your fingers across his back in search of those oh-so-soft wings. You huffed, disappointed to find he had tucked them away, “Luci?”
“Yes dear?”
You rubbed small circles until he finally got the hint. “Ohhh, someone sure is needy tonight, hmm?” His tone was playful, though it could be argued that he found much more satisfaction from wrapping you up in his wings than you did. And you loved when he wrapped you up. You began combing your fingers through his feathers again as he practically purred, “you know if you keep that up I may just have to start coming to bed earlier.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” there was that mumbling again as you began to drift off.
He chuckled, a soft, deep tone, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I started writing it 😏
Just typed out a stupidly detailed fanfic idea(at least in comparison to what I usually do) which is wonderful but also so so terrible because A) that would be so much to write and B) what if I don’t do it justice? It’s for characters that I’ve never really written for from media I haven’t consumed in ages. But ohhhhhhh the idea is there and it’s so good
Just typed out a stupidly detailed fanfic idea(at least in comparison to what I usually do) which is wonderful but also so so terrible because A) that would be so much to write and B) what if I don’t do it justice? It’s for characters that I’ve never really written for from media I haven’t consumed in ages. But ohhhhhhh the idea is there and it’s so good
did you hear me??? PLAY THE FUCKING BEAT!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️
I love reading a long-ass one shot. I’m talking like 10k+ words and there’s no chapters. And it’s just so so compelling and you have to read it all right then even if you have something to do. And then you get to the end and it’s wrapped up all nice and neat but you want to exist in this world for just a bit longer. And you just kinda sit there like, “man, that was really good” and then you can’t fathom reading another fic for at least the next 24hrs.
Alone - Renfield
This is a fic I wrote back during my college’s production of Kate Hamill’s Dracula: A Feminist Revenge Fantasy(which you should totally go read btw). Anyway, this fic stars everyone’s favorite Renfield in a religious-esk fervor.
WC: 957
TW: SH, imprisonment, drugged, mental asylum, Renfield is in poor mental health(which is to be expected), no beta we die like men
Enjoy!
Reinfield stared hard at the writings on the wall. She picked at the skin on her leg, absentmindedly taking the fresh scab from under her nails and rolling it between her teeth. Why hadn’t her Father come? Maybe the lines weren’t straight enough? Pulling the blanket from her bed, she scrubbed the chalk from the walls and started again.
Our Father
Who art in Earth
Of Earth
And by Earth
Hallowed be thy -
Capitalize the T. A swipe of the blanket and she started again.
Our Father
And again.
Who art in Earth
And again.
Hallowed be Thy na-
The chalk snapped. She slowly ran her finger through the powder and rubbed it between her fingers. She swiped it across the wall:
-me.
With new vigor she began again, rubbing the chalk against the wall until the pads of her fingers were raw. She scratched at her leg again and was met with something sticky. The beginnings of a fresh scab. Dark, barely coagulated blood clumped around the site.
Of course! Daddy deserves better! Better than chalk!!
She clawed at the site and began marking that cursed plea. He’ll see. He’ll come. He HAS to come! First she traced over the chalk, the blood drying quickly. The prayer spread across the wall until the blood vessels constricted and the bleeding slowed to a trickle. She whined and rocked on her heels, rolling her tongue between her teeth. The taste of metal made her pause and she spit on the ground, a small red hue highlighting her saliva. She licked her teeth again, feeling the fresh wound in her mouth.
Suddenly, with great conviction, she bit into the flesh of her forearm. She hissed, and pushed on until that bitter, metallic tang pooled between her lips and ran down her chin. It dripped, dripped, dripped onto the ground before with a big sweep she smeared a giant O across the floor. She scrambled across the floor as she went. Bloody footprints began to stain her new-found writing ground. Shaking with adrenaline and excitement she panted that cursed prayer under her breath.
Certainly he will come! He’ll see I AM his most beloved child! He will bring me home! Take me from here!
She moaned and giggled and mewled as she stroked crimson streaks across her chamber. Sticky hands ran through tangled hair; over her eyes and across her cheeks and down her arms until she appeared covered in afterbirth. I am reborn. Freshly made new in His image. She kissed the ground and moved with religious fervor, shaking and dancing as the blood dried and flaked and cracked against her skin. Her muscles grew weak and tired and empty as she curled up in the corner, her head rested against the word Father written on the wall.
Certainly he will come. Make me new. Take me home.
….
“Renfield.”
She moaned and pressed herself farther up against the wall, “leave me for my Father.”
“Renfield.” There was a hand against her cheek, wiping just beneath her eye. She swatted the hand away and peered up at her harasser, “I said leave me for —.”
Her voice caught, “Father?”
“I’m here, Renfield.”
“Father!” She moved to leap toward him and he caught her shoulders, “Easy, easy, I’ve got you.” Gently he lifted her up and held her to his chest.
“I knew you’d come! They said I was foolish and naive but I knew you would come for me!”
“Shhhhhh,” he set her gently down on the bed. He took each wrist in hand and laid them down at her sides, “you must rest now.”
“But Father-“
“Shhhhhh. You need to lie still , Renfield.”
“Please don’t leave me here! Please Father!” A deep weight settled over her, tugging at her eyes and sitting on her chest, “please.”
“I’m sorry, Renfield.”
“But-“
“Sleep.”
…
The first thing Renfield became aware of was a thick wad of cloth in her mouth. She tongued it for a moment or two before reaching up to pull the damned thing from her mouth. The moment she lifted her arm it was pulled back toward the bed with a clang. She tried again.
No. No no no no no.
She writhed against the restraints and clawed and the bed and kicked and pulled and thrashed and shook and screamed and screamed and screamed. Not that anyone heard her. The cloth muffled her wails before they even had time to escape.
I’ve failed. I’ve failed. I’ve failed and now he’s never coming.
Renfield thrashed back and forth, shaking the bet with her fit before it finally fell on its side. She hung from the restraints, her head resting on the ground. The floor and walls, now clean and purified, stunk with disinfectant. They destroyed it. A tear, then two, rolled off the side of her face and dripped to the floor.
A door opened from somewhere behind her. “Oh, Renfield. I’m here,” Seward appeared from around the end of the bed. “Miller, help me lift her. We’ve got you, Renfield.”
They hoisted the bed back upright, taking Renfield along with it. Seward reached up and wiped the side of her face. He turned, nodded at Miller, and she scurried off.
Wait.
“You have to rest, Renfield, or you’ll reopen the wound,” he grabbed the blanket from the ground and laid it back over her.
No.
Miller returned, that venomous vial in hand. Renfield’s eyes darted from Seward to Miller to the vial and back. Seward took it from her and steadied Renfield’s arm, “easy, easy, I’ve got you.”
No no no no no. He was never here.
A quick pinch, a burn, and that weight began to descend again.
He’s forgotten me.
“I’m sorry, Renfield”
I. Am. Alone.
This turned out a lot better than I thought, so I’m posting it. Here’s a little bust of Marvin the magnificent!!!
The night shift aspect of my new job is the push I need to become the cryptid I've always known I could be. Catch me sitting on a lawn chair in fuzzy socks at 3am eating cereal out of a coffee mug
Would anybody be interested in being a beta reader for... well, anything? I have some one shots I want to polish and a multichapter story I want to keep working on. Most of them are sanders sides content. Let me know if you’re interested