#toaster ramble

[tosteur-gluteal]

When I draw Basil i listen to Once Upon a December in true tragic fashion lmao When i draw yassomething it's fleeting lullaby Is it a sign that i should make animation music videos or something

[peargreen-jellybean]

too fuckin long, so sorry about that, but enjoy a 3k word count poolverine hurt/comfort ficlet from the prompt idea i posted

my writing skills suck a bit and i wrote this on my phone but i did my best. enjoy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan’s woken up in alleyways, face down, with clothes torn from a brawl he instigated and the glass bottles he’d fallen onto. Sometimes, if he’s lucky, he wakes up slumped over a table in the back of a bar because the owner was too afraid to tell him to leave.

Afraid of his claws or just his name.

The buzz of alcohol never stays long, even with high proof liquor, but the tiredness of a fucked up life still lingers for awhile more after several bottles of booze.

So waking up exhausted isn’t new. It's about the only way he’s woken up for a long time.

And that’s what Logan expects, slowly coming back to consciousness.

Exhaustion. Some hard surface. Hopefully most of his clothes intact.

One eye begrudgingly cracks open.

Yup, definitely a little fucked up. His joints ache deep into the bone and his head is cotton-y.

But… Nothing feels hard or sharp beneath him. In fact, he feels… comfortable.

Huh.

Turning just a bit, he finds his face buried in softness. It smells lived in; skin, spilled food, a hint of… gunpowder? And, after a moment, he hears the soft sound of music- too quiet to be bar music but not muffled enough to be from a building he isn’t inside of.

Huh.

“Mmm.” Using his forearms, Logan props himself up just enough to leave the softness and get a look around him.

Not an alley. Not a bar. Not even a cheap, seedy motel.

A house- er, an apartment more likely. And he’s sprawled, a moment ago face down, on top of an old couch with a blanket over him and pillow under him. Neither the couch nor the general space is all that large, he’s practically spilling off the furniture, but everything feels warm and lived in. Home-y, if a little messy.

There isn’t anyone else here- the living room, a good guess- but noises, once he registers them, coming from an adjacent room says he isn’t alone. The soft music seems to filter through from there as well.

Logan flips himself over, a bit too groggy to be elegant about it, and rubs the sleep from his eyes. The feel of gritty grime on his face, more than he usually gets after a night drowning in alcohol, confuses him.

And then-

His head slumps back into the pillow and he groans. “Fucking hell.”

The TVA. The Time Ripper. The Void.

The red spandex-ed asshole who stole him from his timeline.

… Who, after everything, took him home, here, introduced him to his blind roommate- Althea, if he recalls- and offered him a place to stay and sleep for a while. And, vaguely remembering being too tired to shower, who also gave Logan some clothes to sleep in.

Groaning, only half heartedly after remembering the comforts offered and taken, Logan pulls back the blanket and, likey for the first time, actually checks to see what he’s wearing.

A gray, “I eat cement” T-shirt and blue, rubber duck shorts.

Yeah, that seems about right.

He huffs, but sits up to get his elbows onto his knees and scrub more of the sleep away from his face. Instant regret again. Both he and Wade- battle worn and disgusting- had forgone a shower in favor of just near instantly passing out. He is fucking gross; dirt, blood, and god knows what else covering him in a disgusting layer.

Logan feels a pang of shame for getting onto their couch with this much dirt and sweat coating him- maybe he can wash the blanket and pillowcase as an apology- but a clattering from the room with the music recatches his attention. The volume of whatever song is playing- a woman singing, pleasantly raspy- increases afterward.

Too interested to ignore whatever’s going on, Logan gets up to stand- with only a small groan, thank you- and, after a quick, satisfying stretch, slowly pads over to the doorway. Nothing outright sounds or feels dangerous, but from his experience and especially after the past few days, the need for caution can’t be shaken.

He must still not be fully awake, because the smell hits him only a few creeping steps from the doorway; pepper, eggs, something a bit burnt.

Food.

God, he didn’t realize how hungry he was until now. Even the burning smell is appetizing.

Popping his head in, the sight inside startles him awake completely.

With “I <3 hot dads” shorts, a red apron, and fucking crocs on his feet, Wade shifts around in front of the kitchen counter, swaying to the song he has playing from a radio somewhere. The place is a complete mess of egg shells and plates, but the table has a, rather large, plate of scrambled eggs, another plate of half burnt toast, and an assortment of other breakfast items. The smell of coffee also hangs in the air. And for the first time, maybe since knowing the man- and when he wasn’t unconscious- Wade is happily content not saying a word. He simply turns a toaster, with a fucking butter knife stuck into it, this way and that, and shakes it like he wants information from it.

It’s jarringly warm, and domestic.

Logan is again thrown for a moment.

When was the last time he woke up to clean clothes- even though he himself is gross as hell- the softness of a pillow, to the smell and sight of another person cooking breakfast in a kitchen?

Ever?

That sounds pathetically sad and incorrect, but in the doorway, watching it happen in real time, Logan feels lost and a bit raw.

Lucky for him though, Wade is still an annoying fuck and pulls him from his thoughts.

Like he sensed the presence of the other man half lingering in the doorway, Wade looks back at him and smiles wide. All bright teeth. No mask.

“Well, good morning Peanut! Did ya sleep well? I don't know about you but I think being torn apart and put back together finally got rid of the knot in my back. God, I slept like Al after she goes through waaay too many little baggies.” He motions over to the table with his chin. “I made some eggs and toast if you want. A true triumphant heroes’ breakfast! Hopefully you like them both a bit overdone. And there’s a pot of coffee over there.” He gestures to a machine on the counter now. “You can literally just drink from the pot if you want. Caffeine does not work on me, funnily enough. We don’t have creamer but there’s milk in the fridge and sugar next to the coffee maker…”

Wade goes on to babble about everything and nothing and, while Logan cannot count the number of times he’s wanted to stab the man for not shutting up, he can’t find the want to be actually irritated.

Not in the face of food, and coffee, and just… comfort.

Speaking of…

Logan clears the lump in his throat. “Thanks.” It’s all he can think to say, but he means it, even with the rough rumble of his morning voice.

Which Wade seems to find fascinating.

“Holy shit! How the fuck does your voice get even deeper? God, you would make a killing as a erotic audio book reader. Millions probably.” Wade flashes a flirtatious look before he turns back to the toaster and continues to mumble to himself, or perhaps the broken machine.

Logan huffs, but the call of coffee is stronger than his need for a comeback. The whole pot is grabbed per the offer, the sugar too, and now standing in front of the table he finds himself hesitating. No spots are occupied and nothing says ‘preferred seat’, but Logan can’t help but pause. ‘Make yourself at home’ feels like the unsaid, unfamiliar offer he can’t accept as easily as the coffee.

It feels too easy- another pathetic thought- and he can’t help but feel like he isn’t awake yet, and the reality of a cold, pavement bed will greet him if he gets too comfortable…

“Stupid fucking piece of metal crap!” Wade hisses, followed by the sound of the knife stabbing into the toaster.

Nope, probably not a dream. Logan is not a creative enough person to come up with something like this.

God, so just… sit, you fucking moron.

Picking a chair facing away from the toaster killer, Logan sets the coffee pot down- on a mat he also picked up, he isn’t an asshole- and settles in.

He feels awkward, like a kid at his first sleepover, but the eggs are there in front of him and his stomach is starting to growl. Awkwardness can wait until after a few bites, at least. There’s a lack of something important on the table though. After a quick glance around the plates and cups, and not finding anything, he looks over to Wade who seems to be completely brawling with the toaster now.

Wincing at the sight, and before he can rethink his decision, Logan clears the remaining sleep from his throat and uses that to draw the other man’s attention.

“Do uh, do you got a fork or somethin’?”

“Ah fuck, that’s what I forgot!” Wade sets, or slams really, the toaster down and moves over to a drawer, then rooting through it. “Didn’t run the dishwasher either and all the good forks are in it. Fuck…” He mumbles something else too, but lets out a triumphant ‘ha!’ when he pulls out two forks, one a little more bent than the other.

He skips, almost, over to Logan and presents the utensils. “Here you go Peanut, pick your favorite!”

Grabbing the more bent fork, Logan nods a silent thanks and begins slowly transferring eggs from the larger plate to one of the smaller, empty ones. Wade, satisfied with the choice, simply sets the other fork onto the table and goes back to the counter, and that damn toaster.

But before brawling again, he calls back, “Help yourself to as much as you want Babygirl! You deserve it for all your sexy hero work!”

Logan huffs again but grabs one of the toaster’s victims, once he’s gotten a fair amount of egg, and takes a bite of the slightly over cooked toast and just… enjoys.

The moment is pretty… nice.

Warm food. Morning sun from the window- god, he doesn’t even know that time it is. Wade isn’t quiet, hardly ever is, but he’s not overly inane or loud right now.

It’s all… good.

So… What does it?

An old memory, like deja vu, from another place and time with other people? The still lingering, ghostly sensation of his own body shredding and healing, just below his skin? Wade grumbling at the counter over the broken toaster, like a strange picture of domestic living?

It could be anything, everything.

But all he knows is that it’s twisting into something else. Something darker, and sharper, and cold.

Logan starts to tremble in his seat and the fork in his hand damn near snaps in his grip. The bite of food in his mouth tastes like blood- no, it is blood. He’s bitten into his tongue. His heart is racing, and something is tight in his chest, too tight and still tightening. Crushing.

Air isn’t breathable. His lungs won’t let it in.

Whatever stupid song is playing now is muffled by a white hot pulsing between his ears.

… He knows this.

Panic.

This is panic.

Of all the times to break, after days of one problem after another, pain after pain, this is when it happens? Now? While he’s sitting in Wade fucking Wilson’s kitchen, wearing his worn-soft clothes and eating at his table and listening to some soft song on the radio?

Yes, it is.

Pathetic.

Fucking pathetic.

He can’t focus anywhere anymore- it’s too much, too overwhelming, too fucking stupid to reason with- and burning nausea is creeping up his throat.

He’s spiraling. He’s breaking. And he can’t find the fight to beat himself out of it.

Perhaps that’s the reason he doesn’t hear the increasingly desperate ‘Logan?’s behind him or the quick footsteps moving towards the table.

He does startle, however, at a sudden touch to the side of his skull, making him gasp.

His claws gouge the surface of the table and knock over a half-filled water cup but, remarkably, they don’t thrust into the sudden presence pressing to his side.

It takes a good minute to process the situation, much slower than it usually takes him. But he feels the warmth of another person and the pressure of a hand on his head and his head is bent at an odd angle-

Wade, his mind breathes. This is his scent- gunpowder, spandex, and his own strange, unique smell. The touch to the back of his skull is his hand and the press to his cheek is the exposed skin below his shirt.

He’s cuddling him.

Uh-

And because it’s what he does best, Logan rages.

“The fuck are you doing?!” Logan snaps, and he yanks his head back from the other man’s grasp. Or, at least, he tries to.

“Eeeasy Peanut,” Wade hushes, not relinquishing Logan’s head. It's easy to forget the teasing, ridiculous man is incredibly strong. The battle lasts all of two seconds, and Wade’s stubbornness takes the victory. Logan’s cheek presses back to his hip and stays there under the weight of his hand.

“Easy, easy, easy…” Wade mumbles. He hesitates, only for a moment. “Vanessa did this… when shit got really bad.”

He’s quiet. He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t have to. The meaning and weight of the softly spoken words are enough.

There’s a growl starting to rumble in his chest and while he wants to fight against Wade harder- he doesn’t need sentimental crap or, god forbid, pity- Logan takes a breath just long enough to pause here in the moment, and let’s himself feel.

Wade’s hand is cradling his skull and his fingers are threaded through his hair. The weight of them is firm, but not crushing. No, they’re gentle. And they press his cheek and temple into Wade’s side, where the dip of his waist is. Even at the odd angle his neck is bent to, the shape of the dip fits to his face near perfectly and, if obliged to stay here, he would be comfortable. Wade’s body heat- much like his own, running high due to constant cellular regeneration- seeps into him. Into his skin, and then his flesh, and then his bones, settling deep into his chest.

All of it, it… helps.

The revelation startles Logan.

The weight and solidness of Wade is grounding; constant, steady pressure. His warmth slowly relaxes the painful tightness behind Logan’s ribs. Even his smell- showered now, likely before he started cooking, still strange but not unbearable- settles his mind just because it’s there.

Wade… is anchoring him.

Maybe he really should fight this harder, or be annoyed at the coddling, or pissed just because he’s being handled at all, but Logan can’t keep a grip on any of the feelings. He can’t stop the calm that pulls him in and brings him down. It’s so- He’s feels so-

…

… When was the last time he was held?

Not fucked by nameless faces, or hanging on to another person for dear life, or punch near through the stomach- Held.

Was it before- God does it hurt.

… Was it before, when he had his fellow mutant friends and family? Before that?

After?… Definitely not.

Warmth, gentleness, nothing of the kind was what he deserved afterwards. He could never reward himself with something he never showed, and no one offered it to him regardless.

Logan shudders, his breath likely teasing Wade’s skin but, if the other man feels it, he blissfully leaves the fact be.

Wade- warm, solid, annoying as hell Wade- who breaks his train of thought, unaware of it. “Better right? When Vanessa first did this, waaay back in the storyline, I fucking melted like a kid’s ice cream. It’s like the guilty, trauma victim’s morphine.” He pauses, and there’s a grin to his words now. “I also ate her out that first time, but we can wait to do that until the second mental breakdown session, Babygirl.”

Yup. There it is. Asshole.

But Logan just, non-committedly hums, although it's more of a grumble. Yeah, Wade will probably be insufferable after this, smug and a whole new level of too comfortable touching him, but right now, right here, he’s calming.

He’s- something Logan can’t quite name. Or at least, he’s unwilling to.

Call Logan weak, call him pathetic- because he truthfully is, just below the storm in his skin- and like hell does he actually deserve this, but he’s gonna savor it for as long as he possibly can.

Seconds pass, or maybe hours, and the gentle massage of Wade’s fingertips to his scalp continues during it before his hand slides away from Logan’s hair onto his shoulder.

The loss of that contact against his head is disappointing-a private thought- but when Wade shifts like he’s about to move away the disappointment quickly morphs into panic.

He isn’t ready to let go.

He isn’t ready for Wade to leave.

With pure, unthinking action, Logan latches onto the fabric of Wade’s shorts just below the hip he isn’t leaning against. He fists the material into a ball, like he’s afraid the other man will just disappear if he doesn’t hold tight enough.

Like he really is going to wake up, and be alone again with only the memory of coffee and warmth.

Embarrassment quickly reddens his face once he understands what he’s done but, instead of releasing Wade, Logan turns his face into his hip to hide. Clenching his eyes shut for extra precaution.

Weak. Pathetic.

Wade is quiet, his hand hovering above Logan’s shoulder after it was started off but, just as Logan is about to relinquish his hold of the man- he can't bear the unnerving stillness of him- Wade surprises him again.

Quick but gentle, Wade cups the back of Logan’s head and neck, turns ever so slightly to the side, and presses Logan’s forehead to the cushion of his stomach. And just lets the other man stay against him, as he rubs his head and shoulders.

Logan cries a small sound he’s never heard himself make before- something wounded, and relieved, and ragged- but he can’t be bothered to care. Not right now. He releases his death hold on Wade’s shorts and wraps his arms around the other man’s thighs, as flush against him as he can be in their current positions. His hold might be too tight, edging on painful most likely, but Wade doesn’t complain. Doesn’t do anything except this… hold him.

Thank you, thank you, thank you…

“Of course, big guy. Whatever you need.”

Ah, he said that out loud.

… He’ll care about that later. Logan will be pissed, and embarrassed, and in denial at some point, but it’ll all be later. When Wade isn’t cradling him or murmuring soft words. When he isn’t cooking warm food or listening to music on the radio.

When he isn’t making him feel like, for the first time in a long time, he’s allowed to have kindness.

Fucking… Wade.

[undeadkyart]

<- guy who cried over the route of a love interest named nakedtoaster

[bizlybebo]

i love jrwi pd enjoyers who all agree that vyncent sol is scared of various household appliances. we're all sitting in a circle together holding hands

[toaster-boi]

mecha is inseparable from fighter jets. there's a reason mech operators are called pilots and hardly anything else.

strapped to a chair rigged to blast itself out of the machine at the pull of a lever. a control stick in each hand, feet slotted into yet more controls. screens and instruments covering the panel in front of you. a helmet displaying all sorts of information, from altitude, to speed, to weapon readouts onto a heavily tinted visor.

a hose connecting your mouth to an oxygen supply with just enough room for a microphone. a full-body suit meant to keep you from passing out during maneuvers and from getting radiation sickness from the altitude you're fighting at.

dancing with death at unfathomable speeds with the most advanced weapons systems humanity can produce.

but one thing i haven't seen from fighter jets is mechs piloted by two people, who each control different systems.

there's "drifting" in Pacific Rim, but that's effectively splitting the sensory load of piloting between two brains. there's whatever the fuck Darling in the Franxx does, but i'm not touching that because i don't want to. combiners like Voltron or Megazords aren't really what i'm getting at.

i want to see a mech piloted by two people in tandem. pilot up front, weapons systems officer in the back. pilot fully immersed in the controls, pulling triggers, tracking individual targets. WSO flipping switches, tuning sensors, talking to command. watching the pilot's back. taking over controls in a desperate attempt to save their pilot when shit gets bad.

pilot plugged into a form-fitting control rig, reading the subtlest of inputs straight from their strained, damaged nerve endings. backseater plugged into a neural sensory interface, blending the machine's observational capabilities with their own senses.

one rendering anything in front of them a burning heap of slag with horrifyingly deliberate movements, but unable to handle the full burden of their machine;

one holding on for dear life, marking targets for certain death, but unable to pull the trigger themselves. desperately trying not to pass out when the pilot pulls crushingly high-G maneuvers.

the pilot is dead without someone in the back seat. the systems operator is dead without someone in the front.

two nervous systems becoming one: a mind that controls the body, and a body that controls the mind. only separated by the chassis between the crude, almost suicidal projectiles command calls "ejection seats." so inseparable you'd never think there was more than one person inside without seeing for yourself.

but perhaps it's better if you don't.

[hiroshotreplica]

ill defend side order until the day i die. Would people kill me if i said i prefer it over octo expansion

[toasters0422]

(X-Men '97 spoliers)

Can't wait for my first ramble since getting hyperfixated on X-Men '97

*deep inhale*

(I gave no clue how to due Tumblr "read more" cuts, so... sorry if this eats someone's dash :< )

Genuinely i love the fact that so many people are saying Magneto is right and that the show itself has addressed that its absolutely true,

but I hate the fact that people are saying Charles Xavier was wrong, and that Magneto was completely justified; which is just far too black and white in my opinion.

Magneto is right when it comes to the fact that Charles' methods are ineffective. Direct action is needed if mutantkind and humankind are to ever have mutual respect. But, that does not mean he isn't an extremist. Magneto's motives and intentions are morally correct, but that doesn't mean that the damage acted upon to humans did more good than harm. Fighting fire with fire may only lead to more fire, or as a favorite quote of mine: "violence for violence is the rule of beasts."

However, I don't want this to be a "Magnus bad, Charles good" fest, it's not. Charles Xavier is a human passing, ultimately jackpot ability mutant and could 100% just pretend to be human if he ever decided to. He wants to help Mutants, his motivations are moral, but they're ineffective. They rarely actually help Mutants instead of simply pushing back the prejudice they face, it took until Magneto running the institute for Genosha to even be accepted into the UN.

So I believe they're both right, but both wrong. They're yin and yang in a sense; there needs to be a balance with their methods for true progress: Action without violence.

...Well that was good to get out of my system :D I'm probably gonna make more X-Men posts in the future, so prepare thineself >:]

[umemiyan]

fun fact, i think the brave little toaster movie altered me psychologically but not in a good way

do y’all remember the scene where he ends up in some shop surrounded by a bunch of fucked up appliances or whatever?? and there was that lamp. the fucking lamp unsettles me to this very day

[omori-mlb-au]

I think a Balcony Scene™ between Basil and Ladybug would be very sweet! Say they got rejected by their respective crushes (or perceived themselves rejected anyway) and had to talk to one another for comfort à la the show.

I can imagine Ladybug telling Basil about how Catmint is so great but also so cold to him and Basil being like "Yeah he's the worst, huh?" and Basil telling Ladybug about his massive crush on his bestie and Ladybug saying "I bet he's not that great." And them bonding over their (failed) attempts to rebound while self-deprecating/boosting each other up. —Kae.

Oooh well almost spot on! I mean, it is the obvious route for their relationship – I really like those dialogues aaaaa thanks Kae !!

Here, have a doodle of them

(@theokusgallery is the one who wrote almost all of Ladybug's tirade yippie)

Aaaa I just- (tiny little ramble below)

Basil is so down bad for Sunny and Sunny really cares about Basil because he is his first and only best friend but Basil has low self-esteem and thinks he's just too lame, unworthy of his friend and just cannot imagine himself going out of his way to confess to him. Sunny thinks that he's just some guy with anger issues who's just not suitable for friendships or really, any kind of relationships. He honestly sees himself as a bad guy, the kind to think of themselves "If they discover I'm such a horrible person they'll leave me" and. Poor fella. Man 🥹 One single argument or disagreement and bro will distance himself to a point of isolation and drown in negative emotions - and you know it's bad 🦋

Catmint is being a moody emo guy and Ladybug is tired of his shit but also kinda into that (who would blame him)

But yeah, deep inside, it does hurt Ladybug to be treated that way sometimes. Wait until he explodes 🤓☝️

Not revealing too much but even if being Catmint is synonymous of freedom for Basil, sometimes, he really hates being this cold sarcastic guy. Sometimes, he really, really hates being Catmint.

I ended up rambling fhdjdbhdudd I had to get a little bit out

Thanks for your ask Kae ! It's always a pleasure

[corvesha]

Toaster meets Toaster (w/ mini fridge in background)

Holy this is so cool! My toaster is gonna have a panic attack, yaaay!

Are these your characters or characters from another show?

[tosteur-gluteal]

GUYS

WEBTOONS

Click for my ramble

Nomads by Captain Juuter: I LOVE IT! I joke around saying that Lance is better Izuku (and I began to read the webtoon for that) but DUDE I'M EMOTIONALLY INVESTED. LIKE. SO BAD. HELP ME. The characters are awesome, the universe is so cool, the lore is simple yet SO INTRIGUING. Even the antagonists are so likeable like WHAT (they're not bad peeps dwbi). Amazing. I love it.

demoholic by noxmillion: I picked up the webtoon because bro has green hair (and grass hair is funny) and idk why, i jusr felt so good reading this. It felt nostalgic for some reason??? Idk, the silliness, the dynamics, it just felt like home?? Uuhhh yeah also at the same time I was reading another webtoon with the love interest as another not human green haired guy and I was like "bro is tryna copy demoholic 🙄🙄🙄🙄" (turns out it's not a bad webtoon I just prefer my boy Yugo) Also the panels are dynamic, the characters are funny, I'm eager to read more!!!

My Daddy is a Villain by M0N0KR0M: SO DAMN CUTE!! This webtoon, hear me out, this webtoon makes me smile all the time. IT'S SO WHOLESOME!! So funny. I just love the dad's energy so bad, I love Mona so so so so soooo much she's so precious I would die for her. My favourite side character is definitely Hisashi he's 10/10

Surviving Romance by Lee Yone : I am. So invested. In the characters. Goddammit. You think it's a romance but PLOT TWIST!! It's a zombie apocalypse and our girl Chaerin has some steel balls I swear. Rina is definitely my favourite. She's 🔥💯💯💯

I can't spoil because it's so so so good please don't miss on this you WILL regret it

Omniscient Reader : Guys. Who doesn't know Omniscient Reader I LIVE for Dokja's tomfoolery . I know it's looonnggg asf but man I just love this dude. He's a silly. Also I used to hate Junghyeok but now he's like. Ritsu from MP100. I like him he's my little piece of shit 😚 their dynamic is so fucking funny

Hyper Ultra Giga Magical Quest by Lolo: I know, it's in French, I'm sorry, but LISTEN THIS WEBTOON WAS ONE OF MY FIRST. It's so cool. The silliness is overflowing. the artstyle is so pretty. So magical. So gay. So 💥💥💥

It just brings back the cartoon energy from my childhood. Idk why. It felt like uhhh Wakfu??? Copycut??? Kaeloo?? Idk I might be on crack. I JUST LOVE IT.

Magical Mom by Prinnstar: Man I wished Pailin was my mom 😭 it's very wholesome! The art is stunning!! It updates very rarely sadly, but the few episodes we get are YUMMY!!! Get this now!! Cool action scenes!! Magical people!! Silly talking cat!! I like talking cats.

I can't go on with the list just, have my faves here. Might update it later

[wesslan]

yesterday me and my friend (very belatedly) celebrated cards on the table reaching 100k (!!!) hits and almost 9k (!!!) kudos with some prinsesstårta🎉

it feels very surreal! what the fuck! thank you for showing this silly little au so much love :,)

stay slaying!! puss å kram!! ❤️

[toaster-with-a-wifi-router]

This is propaganda to read the Mortal Engines series and watch the movie adaptation, which are both good in their own respect

[rad-hound]

I want Nick Valentine carnally. Send post.

[nukacourier]

hi sorry i just asked a weird question about james, i could've sworn that you reblogged a post about gooning to smashing computers with hammers asmr or some shit and tagged james but i realized i might not be remembering correctly and might sound insane so sorry if i bothered you while sounding like a lunatic feel free to delete both this ask and the other one if that's the case. but if it isnt, i am still intrigued.

No you were correct!! I indeed reblogged that to my main a couple days ago I was just busy so I didn't respond right away to the last ask

But yeah. Short answer is he's just a bit of a weirdo who is attracted to robots or sentient machines and genuinely finds working with machinery to be intimate sometimes. You learn a lot of weird things about yourself when you grow up largely isolated with time to dwell in your own head is my best answer

[netscapenavigator-official]

Do you think the toaster is like BDSM for bread?