#my mind in a nutshell

[glass-heart]

When you're a artist for 10+ years and only now I set up in bed like... I could draw some cardiophile stuff!

[dragodina]

Wenn du an einem neuen Tatort Hamburg Fanfic Kapitel tüftelst, aber dein Hirn ganz plötzlich mit ner WaPo Elbe Idee um die Ecke kommt (die vermutlich niemals das Licht der Fanfic Welt erblickt) 😅😂🤣🙈✌🏼

Ich hasse meinen Kopf dafür aaaahhhh 😠🤪🥲

[yumedoca]

Weirdos prefer weirdos...

[ahalliance]

just finished Nimona… DAMN does it feel good to watch such an openly queer movie man

[extasiswings]

Fully back on my bullshit but the fighter jet call…the red wire being prominent and right in front of Eddie’s face, but being interrupted right before clipping it and told he has to first deal with the other piece, then being told he’s supposed to cut the green wire instead when it’s back more out of the way, and ultimately he has to cut the red wire anyway because that was “obviously” the correct choice…yeah…yeah…

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot Extra #3

Masterpost

Warnings: none

This is not currently canon, but would take place much later into Elliot’s recovery, when he finally knows about Ambrose’s immortality and abandonment, but not the details. This may become canon later, I haven't decided

It was a Friday night, the last one before planting season, and the dining room was packed. It was more of a meeting than anything else, but Master Ambrose prided himself on being a good host, and Elliot would follow his wishes.

Elliot helped him send out a steady supply of platters laden with food, and drinks flowed over the chatter.

“So we’re going to rotate the fields this year-” 

“Well what about the sheep-”

“I’m just saying the orchards-”

“Ambrose, sir, I need more bread for the table,” he called as he put down more pints of ale.

“Got it.” Ambrose went to the kitchen to slice a new loaf.

The dull roar of the dining room suddenly turned to silence.

He looked up. 

Elliot had never seen a god before, but there was no mistaking him. He was tall, even taller than Ambrose, with dark black hair and one golden eye. 

He was looking around the room, and he was holding a bouquet of purple and white flowers.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice low and smooth, is Ambrose here?”

No one answered him.

It couldn’t be… could it?

There was movement in the corner of his eye, and then a clatter. Ambrose stood in the doorway, platter and bread at his feet.

The god beamed. “Darling,” he said, stepping towards Ambrose. Ambrose stalked forwards, his face stormy, and the god paused.

Ambrose raised a hand, and slapped the god across the face with full force. The crowd gasped, and Elliot winced.

The god didn’t move away, still holding the flowers. “I am so sorry, my love.”

“Sixty-five years,” said Ambrose, his eyes closed, face unreadable. “Without a fucking word.”

Elliot had never seen him so angry before.

“I know.”

“You left me!” he shouted, voice breaking, tears beginning to flow down his face. “You bastard!”

“I’m sorry, Rosey.”

“Don’t ‘Rosey’ me! Where have you been?!”

“I- I’d rather not say in front of-” Ambrose grabbed the god by the wrist, and they marched upstairs, the flowers dropped and forgotten on the floor.

Somebody cleared their throat, and the crowd launched back into discussion about the upcoming growing season.

Michael sat on the chair nearest him. “Did you know?”

“I knew he was married, but-” Elliot shrugged.

Michael looked up from his tankard. “None of us knew either, but I thought he’d at least tell you he was married to a damn god, especially the god of lies.”

Elliot bristled. 

“Michael!” snapped Judy from across the room.

“We don’t talk much about the past,” bit out Elliot. Michael, for his part, looked chagrined.

Elliot didn’t know who exactly knew the details about his old life, but the regret on Micheal’s face told him that the man knew some.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have guessed.”

Elliot picked up the bouquet of flowers. Some of its petals had dropped to the floor, but miraculously they were growing back.

Of course they were magic flowers.

“I’m going upstairs,” he announced to the room. No one stopped him.

He found an old water pitcher in his room, and plopped the flowers in.

He didn’t hear any screaming from Master’s room, which seemed like a good sign.

Elliot cautiously made his way upstairs, holding the flowers.

He knocked and pushed open the door. Ambrose and the god were sitting on the couch, hands locked together and tear tracks on Ambrose’s face.

Ambrose looked up, wiping his face. “Oh, uh, come in, Ellie.”

“Sorry to interrupt, Master,” he said. He put the flowers on the altar in the corner, and he realized the statue of Ambrose’s god was actually his husband.

“It’s fine. Janus, this is my friend, Elliot. Elliot, this is my husband, Janus.” Elliot did not look at the god’s face. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” said Janus. His gut twisted. Michael had said he was the god of lies.

But then again… If Ambrose married him, maybe he was okay.

He hesitated. “Likewise,” he managed, and Janus smiled at him. Soft and gentle, just like his statue.

___________________

Ambrose slammed open the door and kicked it closed behind them. 

He whirled on Janus. “So,” he crossed his arms, anger draining out of him. “Where have you been?”

“Well, you know how Mael and I never got along for long?”

“I recall.”

“I may or may not have been turned to stone for a while.”

Ambrose pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Stone.”

“I came as soon as I could, I promise.”

The story checked out as far as he knew. Mael and Janus had a famous rivalry, and it was sometimes less than friendly. Mael was not above turning a fellow god into a statue. Janus was not quite as proficient at physical magic as Mael, better suited to mental tricks.

On top of which, the other gods wouldn’t have been interested in getting involved in their petty arguments. Ambrose knew some of them; they often rolled their eyes at Janus and Mael. They might have thought Janus deserved it.

It made sense it took over fifty years for him to break the spell.

“Are we divorced?” asked Janus gently. “I understand if you want me to g-”

“You’re an idiot.” Ambrose took Janus’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

“I won’t.”

They sat down on the couch. Ambrose couldn’t bear to stay mad at Janus.

“You know, it’s awfully rude Mael didn’t tell me about your predicament. Wasn’t he at the wedding?”

Janus laughed, running his fingers over Ambrose’s knuckles. “I’ll let him know you’re offended.”

There was a knock on the door.

___________________

“There’s something strange about that boy,” said Janus, long after they had indulged themselves with each other. “What’s wrong with him?”

Ambrose sighed. “It’s not really any of your business.” Janus rolled onto his side, facing him.

“I’m just concerned,” he said, “Is he okay?” His hand drifted to the curve of Ambrose’s side, his thumb rubbing over the bare skin like he was fragile but irresistible. Ambrose shifted closer to him.

“No, but… he’s better than before.”

“How did you meet?”

“He came in one night begging for food. He was starving to death, and I wasn’t going to refuse.”

Janus nodded. His hand moved up past Ambrose’s ribs to his cheek. Ambrose leaned into his hand. He had missed Janus so much.

“How long ago was that?”

“Uh, three years give or take. He’s been staying here since. And I won’t make him leave, so deal with it,” he warned Janus.

“I wasn’t objecting. Just curious. He called you ‘master’ earlier. You didn’t-?”

“No, that wasn’t my doing. We tried working on it, but it’s something he can’t shake. Usually it’s ‘sir’, but sometimes he slips.”

“Mm.” Janus’s hand dropped from Ambrose’s cheek, and landed back on his side.

“He means a lot to you,” he guessed.

“Yes. Just… leave him be, okay? I don’t want him spooked. We’ve worked so hard.”

“I’ll keep my distance, if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you.”

Janus kissed him on the forehead, a familiar gesture that he’d been craving for so long.

“I love you,” said Janus. “I missed you.”

“Me too.”

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone @snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @magdalena-writes @latenightcupsofcoffee @tobiaslut @whumpsoda @loserwithsyle

[loadsofcats]

[geneticcatalyst]

unwieldy venn diagram of favorite cmedia guys that im too lazy to make but it looks like

llh, mcs: lying to all their old friends and enemies about being a completely different guy

nhs, jby: architecting major political power plays under cover of being the least competent guy you know

jby, mcs: actually usually three steps ahead of the game, plots laid well in advance

nhs, llh: somehow keep getting away with this despite improvising all kinds of bullshit last minute

[laura-the-swarming]

Hello, I need some help. (I don't want help.)

I've been without a job or education for a while now, and so I need to somehow get accustomed to working. (I don't want to do actually do that, though. I would rather die than work a day in my life.) I'm terrified of the prospect of having a job, so I need a lenient, forgiving place.

(I just want every possible professional to look at me and say I'm beyond help, because I don't want to change, and so I can't be changed by someone else. I want you to give up on me so I can finally give up on myself so I can shut up the other voice.)

I want to finally have something I can do. Something that's productive, something that I enjoy, that lets me earn money so I can live and thrive. I want you to show me life doesn't have to be suffering so I can shut up the other voice.

Please, help me.

(Please, kill me.)

[modernmanblues]

familial dynamics of 10cc

[dragodina]

Ich, wie ich mich auf den neuen Tatort mit Falke und Grosz freue ...

Montag bis Freitag:

🔝⬆️ Freitag (nachdem der Trailer und das Falke-Jubiläums-Video droppt)

⬇️ Samstag (Anspannung steigt, Masked Singer lenkt ab, aber mein Kopf ist schon einen Tag weiter):

Sonntag nur noch: Wann ist endlich 20:15 Uhr?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?

[fixedspeech]

Their voice actors kill me man

Hc that Dazai and Chuuya watch Durarara together and make fun of each other, comparing the other to Izaya and Shizuo

Like Dazai thinks Izaya is an interesting character until Chuuya mentions its just Dazai with a god complex

Chuuya thinks Shizuo is a badass, talking about potentially fighting with stop signs could be fun until Dazai mocks that he'll never be that tall nor have as good of a fashion sense

Chuuya retaliates with "Oh yeah? At least I'm not Shinra and Izaya’s creepy love child!"

Dazai gasps in utter shock, not bc of the insult but because he thinks Shizuo and Izaya have a way stronger bond

They argue over who has a better dynamic

Chuuya: Shinra litterally took a knife for Izaya!

Dazai: Shizuo can litterally sense when Izaya's in the city!

Chuuya: THEY TRY TO KILL EACH OTHER MULTIPLE TIMES!

Dazai: THEY MAKE UP FOR WHAT THE OTHER LACKS, IT’S POETIC! THEY COMPLIMENT EACH OTHER IN EVERY WAY, THEY HAVE THIS INCOMPREHENSIBLE KARMIC TIE TO EACH OTHER AND IF YOU WEREN’T SO STUPID MAYBE YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND THAT!

Chuuya gets up to leave Dazai's office in a huff but stops in front of the door when Dazai chimes in "Same time next week?"

Chuuya grumbles but adds "Don’t forget it's your turn to buy snacks."

The next week rolls around and Dazai purposely bought snacks Chuuya doesn’t like

[theophagie]

He's literally so cunty especially now in the manga with that BJ "blow job" belt around his mouth askxkgk gag character be damned my man knows his way around the scene

[bumblingbabooshka]

In which Tom puts 10x more thought into his interactions with Tuvok than Tuvok does

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Ya know what? There’s an easier way to explain Meteors AU.

“I make an excuse to magically turn every animatronic one by one into flesh and blood versions of themselves and gleefully clap my hands at the fall out.”