#to share the current interest

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

i had a dream that i had one of showaddywaddy’s records in my collection somehow(i don’t actually but i want) and i was really happy about it and people were looking at it and talking about it with me in my garage even though i don’t keep them there (my records, not the people. i do not keep people anywhere, people are free to go where they choose)

[teamred]

re: your tags - I am dying to know about your Wade’s sister!reader x Logan fic, omg that sounds so fun 👀💖

-@eupheme

omg hi j!!! @eupheme (gonna tag you in case the ask post doesn't do it)

i actually have two wade's sister!reader x logan fics in the works! i hope you don't mind me sharing both~

the one i was referring to in my tags is called "dusk till dawn".

summary: vanessa is kidnapped, so while wade runs off to save her, he assigns logan to be reader's bodyguard. however, they don't get along, but they start to fall for each other over time.

it'd be a road trip/motel hopping au with lots of banter, sharing one bed, tension, angst, and steamy moments of course 👀

i'm taking inspiration from some of the moments with logan and mariko from the wolverine (2013) movie!

i'd love to share snippets, but it's really in the draft stages right now!!

second fic i have is called "can't help myself" (title tentatitive)

summary: wade only has one rule for logan: his sister is completely off-limits. but of course, logan never plays by the rules, and you couldn't give two shits about what your dumb-ass brother says.

this one would be more of a fun fic!! just like messing with wade but also having fun with logan and lowkey falling for him too

lots of dialogue, especially with wade, smut, fluff, etc. just a vibes fic

wouldn't be as long as the other fic - i wrote quite a bit for this already! here's a snippet of the intro:

“Don't look at her,” Wade paces around his apartment’s living room, listing the things Logan, his new roommate, should avoid when he meets his sister tomorrow. “Don't breathe in her presence, don't even think about her, and especially don't—” 

“What, ya gonna tell me I can’t fuck her next?” Logan cuts in with an amused chuckle, reclining on the living room couch with a hand above his head. 

“Yes, bingo!” Wade exclaims, pointing at him excitedly. “Exactly that, you geriatric sexy vampire. Or should I technically say vampire hunter?” He pauses, wondering for a moment. 

“Anyways,” he continues, “you can have any woman you want in this new universe—hell, I’ll cry my heart out every night after my evening jerk-off seshes, but you can even have Vanessa—but my sister? We’re gonna have a repeat of the Honda Odyssey fight, Wolvie, and that won’t be a pretty sight to see.” 

“Okay,” Logan replies, getting up from the couch and heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll make sure to fuck your sister until she forgets the fact that she's your sister. Got it.” 

“Hey!” Wade smacks him on the back as he’s bent over, trying to grab a beer from the fridge. A low growl escapes from him. “I’m being serious here.” 

“When are you ever serious?” Logan asks, popping off the beer cap with his thumb. 

“Now! I am being serious now.” Wade’s voice rises before he takes a second to compose himself, closing his eyes and inhaling slowly. Logan watches him carefully, sipping his beer. 

“Please, Logan,” he barely whispers, avoiding eye contact. 

The silence, punctuated only by Logan’s sipping, feels uncomfortable and heavy. Finally, Logan lets out a sigh.

“Fine,” he grunts. “I won’t get involved with your sister.” 

Wade breaks into a relieved smile and extends his pinky. “You promise?” 

Despite Logan rolling his eyes and shaking his head, he ends up hooking his pinky around Wade’s, sealing the deal.

Except Wade doesn’t see Logan’s other hand behind his back, with his middle and index fingers crossed over another.

[thedragonhermit]

First of all, surprise! More Person of Interest! Wow!

Second, my brain would not let go of trying to form a PoI x Fallout AU, and for a while I didn't think I could make it work (ie: how do you get a franchise dependent on stuff like the internet and phone booths to work in one with neither), until I had an actual shower thought about it being specifically a Fallout 4 AU!

Basically it's just Fallout-y versions of the PoI main cast, with Fallout-y versions of their backstories, and following a Fallout-y version of the show's plot, but the plot of Fallout 4 is also happening at the same time with John filling the role of the Sole Survivor (except Harold got him out of Vault 111 instead of Father, and John isn't Shaun's dad lol). Oh and the Institute's surveillance of the Commonwealth is provided by the Machine, and yet Finch has ensured they don't have full access so he can use it the way he wants to: to help improve the lives of the people of the Wasteland!

[sketchy-tour]

Its funny that I could feel my WH hyperfixation slowly morph into just my genuine special interest. I worried at first, cause I thought my love for it had died. Because it was duller. But no no. Now it sits comfortably and idly in my mind. Unshaken. Comfortable. At home.

[distressed-bird]

Kalina is the most interesting character to me because of all she has going on…

she is Cassandra’s familiar, she is simultaneously a pet and a friend and a servant and a family to a goddexx that is simultaneously her owner and friend and creator and parent and her god and reason to be—Kalina’s relationship to Cassandra is hard to put a name or label on (since what does being a familiar even mean?) but the bottomline is that this cat loves her deity enough to put everything and everyone on the line for her…

And adding in that she is a child of divorce. So to speak. I am extremely normal and haven’t been driven mad by the detail that baby itty bitty kitty Kalina was at Cassandra’s wedding to Ankarna and is remembered to have been toddling after her as she walked down the aisle…

Kalina will be the death of me /lh

[the-modern-typewriter]

will you write something vampire themed for spooky season?

The coffin was luxurious, as far as coffins went. The protagonist had half-expected just a plain wood box, scratchy and full of splinters. They supposed, if they had to die, they could at least do so in style.

It didn't really make them feel better.

And it didn't make the coffin fit two people any better either.

"Stop squirming," the secret love of their life snapped. "You're just going to get us more stuck."

"I don't think it's possible to get more stuck." Their voice was only a little, reasonably, hysterical. "We're buried alive in a bloody coffin!"

The secret love of their life looked awful beneath them. Pallid, even in the crowded gloom of their shared grave. They felt clammy and cold beneath the protagonist's limbs.

The protagonist swallowed. They tried to stop squirming. There were no comfortable positions.

The love of their life hissed between their teeth with irritation, and if the protagonist could see properly, they were sure that a terrifying and wrathful and gorgeous glare would be pointed in their direction.

"I'm sorry," the protagonist said. For the squirming, sure, but mostly for everything else. For somehow getting them into this mess. For being the last idiot that the love of their short life would ever see. For not knowing how to save either of them.

"You should stop talking and conserve your air."

"You should stop talking and conserve your air," the protagonist mumbled. They closed their eyes. They tried not to panic. The panic closed in on them on every side, just like the too close suffocating padded walls, and the steady weight of six or so feet of packed soil crushing them on all sides.

"Someone's going to rescue us," the love of their life said. "Your friends - someone - will figure out where we are."

"Coffin. My first guess too."

"They'll get us out." The growl in their friend's voice was almost inhuman. Quite impressive.

The protagonist bit down hard on their lip, and the rather unhelpful response of 'before or after we die from the lack of oxygen? Because, you know, I read that people can survive five hours locked in a coffin. Tops. If they're not hyperventilating. But who's hyperventilating! I'm not hyperventilating! Are you?'

Their friend drew a sharp breath. Then they squirmed, hypocritically, before managing to place cool hands on either side of the protagonist's whirling brain.

"Easy," they murmured, abruptly far more gentle. "You're okay. You're going to be okay. I'm not - I won't let anything bad happen to you."

The protagonist felt tears prick the corners of their eyes. Absurd.

One of their friend’s thumbs grazed over their lip, wiping away the bead of blood there.

"Match your breathing to mine," their friend murmured, voice a little hoarse and trying-to-keep-it-together. "Concentrate on me."

The protagonist did their best. Their friend breathed very slowly, admirably calm really, given the circumstances.

"I won't hurt you," their friend said. "I love you. I won't."

"It's not you I'm worried about. Wait - you love me?"

It was impossible to see the love of their life's face, and really, a coffin was the worst place for a confession. Because the protagonist would very much have liked to have seen their face. At least if they were hanging over a lava pit, the protagonist would have been able to see their face, and make a judgment on if they meant that platonically or romantically.

God. They hated their brain.

Their friend didn't say anything and the silence was surely almost as agonising as dying. Almost. They brushed a tear away from the protagonist's cheek, feather-light.

"More than anything," their friend said. "Now shut. up. Please. And please, please, stop moving."

The protagonist shut up. Somehow. They rested their head against their friend's chest, letting the knowledge of that confession fill them with warmth, or try to.

At least they were dying in a coffin with someone they loved. Who loved them back. Someone's whose heart was so...

The protagonist stopped. It was a trick. A mistake. Something. But it felt, beneath their ear, like their friend's heart wasn't beating. Actually, when the protagonist really thought about it, now that their breathing was more or less steady, even in the squashed space they couldn't hear their friend's breathing at all. They couldn't feel it against their cheek and...

They didn't think the love of their life had always been so cold.

"Why." The protagonist resisted the urge to shift again. "Why do you think you're going to hurt me? Worst you're going to do is elbow me in the face?"

Their friend was silent a second time.

"Right?" The protagonist pressed.

"Someone will find us. They'll get us out. It's not a problem. It won't be a problem."

"What...what won't be a problem?" But the protagonist, with a dreadful twist in their stomach, knew. It should have been obvious, maybe, in the last twenty four hours.

The stomach bug. The dark glasses. The cringing from the sunlight.

"I won't hurt you." A mantra. Not a reassurance; a mantra, a plea. "I love you. I won't hurt you. You're going to be fine."

Five hours, suddenly, seemed like a lifetime.

The coffin was luxurious, as far as coffins went. Excellent quality. Top notch.

Nothing else, after all, would keep in a newly turned and starving vampire locked up.

"Shit," the protagonist whispered.

And that about summed up their current predicament.

[homo-house]

stop being preachy on this subject and trying to force everyone to interact or make posts about the situation, some people have dedicated their accounts to specific things in order to compartmentalize and not have to deal w this mental anguish from doomscrolling 24/7.

not allowing yourself any peace rest or leisure will not end the war, it will not bring back the dead, will not aid the suffering of those people. the only thing not allowing yourself peace like that will do is soothe your conscience as if you were actually doing something when you aren't. you're just watching with your hands tied like everyone else. you can enjoy things and post about other stuff while still deeply caring and being in solidarity with the people of palestine, this is the internet you can do multiple things at once in different web spaces.

telling other people what they should or should not be doing on the internet while there's a war on won't fucking do anything except shame people for trying to stay sane. you have no idea how harmful this shit is for people with moral obsessions and compulsions, you're just causing more suffering to people who don't deserve it, just stop that shit. if you actually want to help then take action, call your representatives, show up to a protest, donate to a cause. anything else.

[basketobread]

Art Fight and BG1 have taken up so much of my mind space hello how is everyone doing

[whatudottu]

Regarding your cerebrocrustacean headcanons mentioned in the previous ask: they very well could be somewhat canon given how, when asked if Albedo and Dr. Psychobos would be willing to work together, Derrick J. Wyatt responded with "Psychobos seems like a total team up slut, he'll team up with any villain any time" (his words, not mine).

Which he likely meant in the sense of "Psychobos is so power-hungry he'll team up with anyone in order to get ahead", but with your headcanons and the fact he never talks much about his personal life in mind, you could alternatively interpret it as "Psychobos is so desperately lonely he'll accept anyone he has even the slightest similarity with into his clique, even members of a species he's violently xenophobic towards" (probably to cope with/serve as a rebound for his mancrush Azmuth friendzoning him /lh /hj).

Now all of this is making me realize that it was a massive missed opportunity in Omniverse to not have Psychobos' demeanor do a complete 180 around the people he works with compared to everyone else (whether sincere or a thinly-veiled manipulation tactic) if not solely for a few jokes. Especially him acting like an affectionate father figure towards Malware (whether he likes it or not) solely so he can rub it in Azmuth's face that "I'm a FAR more attentive and caring parental figure towards your creation than YOU ever were, and I use the term loosely".

WHAT DO YOU MEAN DJW SAID 'TEAM UP SLUT' HAHAH WHAT!? dear god it's true it's on the wiki what the fuck what the fuck assdfjhghsdlfkgfkl-!

I mean, look at his already canon group; Khyber, allegedly the greatest huntsman in the galaxy, teaming up with Dr Psychobos to make a little watch that can sample (specifically predatory) animals; and Malware, a technology absorbing mutant mechamorph, working with the cybernetically enhanced (also listed as a mutant???) cerebrocrustacean in order to make said watch- if liking the concept of animals and incorporating machines as part of oneself is enough to get into Dr Psychobos' clique well, he's certainly stretched what that means far enough to at least snag two others into his initial team up. Same can't be said for Attea and the incurseans which seems to be more of a sponsor type relationship, and Maltruant commissioned him to repair his body but violated the trade agreement so whether or not Psychobos would do business with the incurseans again, he's already squarely sequestered Maltruant in the outest of out-groups :P

Hah, the 'Dr Psychobos adopting Malware specifically to stick it to Azmuth' bit reminded me of a signing-the-adoption-papers version of the 'I throw my used car batteries in the ocean' thing- something along the lines of; [psychobos voice] "You are the most calamitous individual I have had the pleasure of meeting, and I use the term loosely." [malware voice, threateningly] "I have devoured and absorbed the specs of the Omnitrix." [psychobos signing adoption papers] [malware, experiencing the affects of cerebrocrustacean in-grouping and having no frame of reference on how to deal with it] "What the fuck is happening-"

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

[happyfunf3tti]

update on the keychains!!

they turned out great! these are samples so i'll be ordering a batch of em in the future for my shop!

[rocketmoment]

stupid guest lore i made thats like,, years old but that im remaking/reviving

[saints-who-never-existed]

One thing I find really hilarious to think about sometimes is just how much older/younger a lot of the real-life Expedition crew members were compared to their fictional counterparts.

Like, 25 year-old Goodsir, anyone? Or 27 year-old Collins for that matter?

26 year-old Bridgens and 37 year-old Peglar? Ludicrous!

On the one hand, it blows my mind a little bit that I'm currently the same age as the likes of Fitzjames and Le Vesconte.

But on the other hand, I look at all of my male contemporaries - God's Perfect Idiots to a man - and think "Aw shit, yeah, it all makes sense now! Men are just fuckin' like that, huh?"

[swampybogg]

☠️🥀

[hnnny]

Free yourself. Make slideshows to dump lore onto your friends about your original characters. Don't look back.

[sysig]

Pepper scared the shit out of me by hiding in his molt-hammock for A Literal Week and I thought for sure he’d moltstalled but no he was just in there getting swole