#i think they should live separately

[gifti3]

Arranged marriage au with asmo

I need asmo to be in some type of royal otome slowburn manhwa

ramblings ramblings

the drama guys....the DRAMA! dont tell me a bunch of nonsense wouldnt happen

remember the post where i was like indifferent/passive aggressive asmo becoming curious about the MC fics are peak

similar thing is happening here! honestly i think theres some resentment coming from asmos side at first but mc is like ay....you do ur thing and i do mine

im not gonna make u do anything u dont want, i dont have any expectations from this arrangement. lets just try not to make each of our lives hell u know

lol i bet when asmo first meets MC after finding out that hes supposed to marry them he's like thinking "......ig theyre not that bad looking"😒 (he literally would have been flirting with them in any other circumstance)

hmmm mc needs to be apart of a pretty influential family i think since this is gonna be a political type marriage

and asmo,,,,i feel like he doesnt really engage in the specifics when it comes to politics or anything. it's just not something thats important to him. he has his side hobbies and business endeavors that cares about. But topics outside of those things are left up to his family

so perhaps one day, the head of the family (i wanna say lucifer but since i want the person in this role to give off more a mysterious vibe, where his word is final michael might be a better choice) is like... this specific family...theyre kinda important and we want them on our side so get married to their eldest who has rejected every other person ever but has agreed to marry and since u dont do much when it comes to political affairs im gonna have you do this whether you want to or not

and asmo is just like....HUH he tries to get lucifer to help him out here but lucifers like...yea dads not budging sorry lil bro (he doesnt say it like that but similar sentiment lmao)

now mc never really wanted to get married cause they didnt wanna have to go through the motions against their will and they like their life as is but their parents have been breathing down their neck about marriage for years now. And now that this BIG opportunity has present itself to their parents, it feels like the pressure is really on now! at first mc is like shit...idk if i can weasel my way outta this one

and then......they realized that maybe this could probably work out in their favor actually.....

mc agreed to married him cause asmo has a bit of a reputation as a partier and a playboy

with asmo they feel like things can stay as they are for the most part if they let him continue to do as he pleases (not like they could have stopped him if they wanted to lol)

everything can be the same, they can still live their own separate lives, just now they have the title of spouses!

and thats the plan, like i said before asmo comes in being a bit rude at first but it kinda changes to indifference and a little passive aggressiveness once MC is like...yo chill im not gonna shit on ur parade. i just wanna be left to my own things. you do you sir

yes thats the plan...thats supposed to be the plan and it was going as mc expected for a good while

but as we know if u put something or someone in front of asmo enough times hes gonna get curious

[dianagj-art]

BETRAYAL!

In my head this is how the two managged to land on 3rd place lmao (One is surprised but not dissapointed)

There's so many branches to this poll now that I didn't know where to add this on so this gets its own post, pls make yourself a favor and check all the reblogs of that poll, there's so much good art and very funny tags from everyone

Bonus with the bestie:

LM leo @daedelweiss

RR leo @red-rover-au

[flowersandfashion]

sorry let me rant about downton abbey 10 years later

Thomas's conversion therapy plot pisses me off so much. firstly, it's incredibly out of character. he never wanted to change to conform to society, he wanted the world to change to accomodate him. the man who said "it's not against the law to hope is it" and "I'm not foul, Mr Carson, I'm not like you, but I'm not foul" would NEVER

secondly, from a storytelling perspective, the only 'problem' is that he used infected needles. did we forget that Thomas was a sergeant in the RAMC? he knows how to sterilise needles and how to recognise and treat infection. this also shifts the blame to Thomas himself for getting sick and implies that the conversion therapy itself is harmless (Dr Clarkson says it's just saline solution)

thirdly, it's not historically accurate. I'm not an expert but conversion therapy was not at all common in the 1920s, even Sigmund Freud was against it. hormone therapy and chemical castration were barely developing let alone available to the public (I can't imagine what else the 'treatment' was supposed to be). the only practices that I can find evidence of were psychoanalysis and electric shock therapy

Thomas also mentions that he did electric shock treatment - if you really want to make a point about homophobia in the 1920s (and make Thomas suffer as much as possible), show that instead. watching him be literally tortured for his sexuality would have been far more impactful than him just... looking sweaty for a few episodes

[hephaestuscrew]

Renée Minkowski loves Organised Fun, whereas Doug Eiffel thinks Organisation and Fun are inherently incompatible. Eiffel can get hours of enjoyment out of discussing 'What are your Top Five ____?' questions with Hera, but if you asked him the same questions and told him it was a team icebreaker activity, he'd jump out of a window. In contrast, the best way to get Minkowski to engage with pointless questions like those would be to include the discussion on a precisely timetabled schedule of activities. I don't think Eiffel would have voluntarily got involved with Funzo because he would have taken one look at the size of the instruction booklet and decided that maybe he did think they should follow Pryce and Carter Tip 792 after all. I think Minkowski sees a robust instruction booklet on a game as a sign that she's in for a good time. Minkowski believes any day of leisure is improved by an itinerary. Eiffel can't even contemplate following a schedule in his work hours, let alone his downtime.

[aplaceforyourhearttorest]

Take Me Down To The River † James Hetfield (16+)

Part One of Two

Mentions/Warnings: smalltown!james, smalltown!reader, angst, hurt and comfort, exes to lovers, suggestive content

Cicadas croon in a repetitive notion as you slowly make your way down the seemingly never-ending road and pathway, the tattered and overworn lace on the bottom of your dress caressing itself against the tops of your boots with every step you trudge forward. The sky is gray and an offset blue, yet heat still permeates itself through the thickened clouds as music eventually begins to make itself known within the distance between you and the familiar looking, abandoned church ahead. Cars line themselves in hazardous and haphazard lines on each side of the jagged and uneven damp dirt road, and irritation starts to sear in your stomach as loud voices and engines begin to surround you.

You halt mid step and contemplate turning around and creating a false excuse as to why you were unable to show up to the party on your way back home, before you flinch back at the sound of a truck barreling its way down the pathway you're currently stood on, and as dark and browned water spatters itself against the now ruined bottom half of your dress. The muddied liquid immediately absorbs itself within the cotton of your outfit, and a grimace paints your already downtrodden features as the material latches itself onto your newly soaked skin. You look down in numbed disbelief as droplets collect themselves in the hem and then pummel downward, and you're hardly able to fully lift your head up again before a voice is yelling out and at you.

"Holy shit, I swear I didn't see you there," an oddly sounding familiar voice cries, and brakes are soon squeaked to a stop soon after, the high pitch constriction sounding the complete opposite of the slow music echoing itself down the road. Blonde and disarrayed strands of mane cover the left side of the man's face, and your heart stutters in your chest as the muddled air brushes it away to show the features underneath. James pauses in the middle of opening his door, and only comes out of his stupor when someone else in the car shoves him forward. He's barely able to catch his weight on his forearm resting in the created opening of the window's edge, and his own face twists in disgust as his left shoe makes contact with the soot textured filth he covered the bottom half of you with. "Are you alright?"

The second the question is verbalized, he's shaking his head at his own inquisition, and his lips move inward as you take a step backward and go to walk towards the small opening in between the rows of cars. "Wait!" He requests, yet you sift your fingers down the fabric and bunch it up instead, before lifting your other weighed down boot and continuing your half blind travel. The sun is now pivoting behind the earlier clouds, and you ignore the unyielding calls behind you as you attempt to find the source of running water you remember visiting only a few years ago. There's a halted moment and a pause within James calling out to you, and you suck in a deep breath of relief, just as a warm hand encircles itself around your right forearm. Your body's first instinct is to flinch away, even as the cool and familiar temperature of his rings press themselves against your bare skin and silently beckon you in.

"I didn't know you were back in town," the slight stammer in his now deeper tone softens your hardened shell, even as you tense under his hold, and as his grip loosens once he notices your demeanor. The dual sound of your guys' shoes and boots squelching as they imprint themselves in the mud is the only consistent cadence, before the cicadas round again, and as his fingers absentmindedly run their pads down your goosebump ridden flesh. Your fists clench themselves in the material of your dress as he retracts his hold from around your lower arm, and you force yourself to look forward as he clears his throat. "I'm really sorry, if I had known it was you, I would have slowed down."

Your lips raise on their own accord, despite the awkwardness and tension in the air, and you can feel James' eyes rest on you as your shoulders shake with your uncontained laughter. "And if it wasn't?" You edge, your knuckles relaxing against the wet cotton, the dress's material sliding back down to cover the rest of your legs as you catch sight of the river to your left. James allows himself to fully catch up with your own steps, and you subconsciously lean into his warmth as his clothed shoulder brushes and caresses itself on your own bare one. The smile in his voice when he answers is obvious, and if you'd allow yourself to relax any further, it'd almost feel like you two are eighteen again. Meeting up for a date by the river, or for a moment of silence, while your mutual friends raise hell not so far behind.

"I'd speed up and get even closer," he instigates, his smile turning into a smug grin when you look over at him in amused shock, your features brighter and livelier than a few minutes prior. "It's common sense and knowledge around here to walk in the grass anyway, most locals know that," his left elbow bends and purposefully collides with yours, both of your guys' smiles mellowing after he finishes his sentence. "Even if they've been gone for a while."

You're saved from answering as you pivot and carefully inch yourself towards the edge of the side of the river, the mud covering the bottom of your boots aiding you as you squat down to level yourself with the flowing water. James keeps himself a step behind you, and without even having to look back, you already know that he's got both of his hands positioned to catch you in case you fall. You place your dampened palms on the rocks and rest your backside against the cool surface, a shiver wracking up your spine as you place your lower limbs into the current. Hurried waves of excited and once still water wash ashore on the worn leather of your boots and stained dress, and you watch as both of your reflections look back at each other in the darkened liquid.

"It's been two years," you remind him, your breath leaving you in a shuttered exhale, and you wet your lips as you watch his features withdraw and close up. "You chose what you wanted to do, and I chose as well, I suppose. I'm not upset about it anymore." The tightness in your chest constricts as renewed guilt reawakens on his face, and you situate your eyes on the other side of the river, instead of having to see him relive the last day you two spoke to each other.

"You didn't abandon me, regardless of all of the fucked up things I said back then," James iterates, finally fully meeting you at the edge, and the large rock beneath you two shifts, before it recenters and seeps back into the soil. His left hand rests right next to your right, and you coerce and stop your fingers from spreading in a blind search of his own. "You did the right thing for yourself back then, and I did too." You twist around to try and look back for the truck he had driven in with, but it was too far back and blanketed within the others.

"Found the rest of your band members, huh?" You search gently, and hum around a renewed smile as you see him nod in your peripheral. The coil unravels in your chest, and for the first time since you've seen him again, it nearly feels easy to breathe. A ripple of cool water lifts the bottom of your dress from the tops of your boots, and you peer down as it naturally folds and rests on the middle of your shins. You brave yourself enough to look over at him, and the breath halfway exited from your chest halts, as your irises immediately find and latch onto his. "I knew you would." You breathe, you voice barely audible over the rush of water, the background music and cicadas, and the erratic beating of your own heart. It's pathetic how something as simple as a reciprocated look from your first love can have the last few years apart, feel like only seconds.

You swallow thickly and press your tongue to the roof of your mouth as his blue eyes track the movement, your fingertips pulsing against the cold stone beneath the two of you, as you cautiously wait for his next move. Expecting him to be as impulsive as much as he is shy has you tensing, and your spine relaxes as he instead looks away and inches forward. Reddened and calloused hands reach forward to gather the material of your dress, and you raise your legs in front of you for better access. The residual water he wrings out the cotton sounds like temporary pouring rain, and you can't help but shudder as he curves a roughened palm around your right calf to tug you in closer. His fingertips coalesce to scrub out some of the mud spatter and browned water, and you purse your lips together in an attempt to hold back a titter of laughter as it just makes it worse, the river's water doing nothing but softening whatever had hardened on the travel over.

"It's alright," you try to placate, your voice sounding tight as you try to swallow down your own mirth at the situation, it becoming harder to do so as he rubs the material back and forth together with annoyed vigor. You see his hands beginning to turn a light hue of purple, and you hastily bend forward to take his own in yours. "It's okay, James, it's only a dress." Your words are ignored as he continues under your hold, and you're only able to gather his full attention once you grab ahold of both of his wrists. You bend your knees and rest your now completely soaked boots on top of the rock beneath you two, and James follows as you beckon him to fully sit back down next to you.

"I can buy you a new one, or I can take it to the dry cleaners. I promise you; I'll figure something out this time." His words seem hushed and hurried, and you absentmindedly rub your thumbs against his pulse points, feeling his blood pumping anxiously underneath your digits. You tug on his unsteady hands and lay them on your right thigh, and send him a gentle look when he rests his unfocused gaze onto you.

"There's nothing to figure out, because everything is fine. See," you purposefully trail your eyes down the expanse of your body, and you make sure that he follows suit. His eyebrows furrow when you two get down to your boots, but he's already quickly relaxing into your hold. "I'm right here, we're both in one piece. We're all good to go."

He tsks and shakes his head to himself, before following your earlier movements by looking behind you both, seemingly trying to find his truck throughout the others. "I've got a spare outfit or two in the truck's backseat," he offers, and he's up onto his feet before you can fully digest his words, gently twisting his wrists out of your hold, only to mold his own hands against yours and squat down in front of you. "I said I'll figure something out this time, and I meant it. I may have broken both of our hearts and nearly drowned you in mud, but I can at least offer you a shirt that hasn't been cleaned in the past three days." He's got a familiar looking playful and hopeful gleam in his eyes in response to your own wry look, and you know it's best to follow him instead of trying to fight back and disagree, so you place the heels of your feet underneath you and allow him to bear the rest of your weight.

You hold back any reaction to the wet gush of water that covers your toes once you're fully stood back up, and you give yourself permission to hold onto the hands you've tried to convince yourself you haven't missed. You walk behind him through the tight rows of cluttered cars and trucks, and try not to reminisce on the times you two were in a similar position. Just having gotten out of the swimming pool back in senior year, with a wide smile on your face, and you lifting yourself up onto the tips of your toes to press the physical representation of your happiness into the middle of his shoulder blades.

The only sources of light down the long road and pathway are from headlights that were left on, and from taper candles that were brought earlier on from the actual party throwers. The tinged and artificial yellow light gives off a warmer atmosphere as you two shuffle yourself free from the onslaught of vehicles and back onto the slab of dirt, and you feel James let out a hefty sigh once you two do. You carefully untangle a hand from his and move forward to stand beside him, your relief becoming palpable as the red truck that must be his comes into immediate view. He's reaching forward into the truck with its window still down and pushing it open from the inside, before twisting the high beams off and motioning you to head inside first. You pause once you're able to stabilize yourself on your knees on the large front seat, and kick off your boots before you fully get into the truck. James is repeating the motion and barely has his door fully closed, before he's got a forearm and bicep disappearing in the direction of the backseat.

Your lips nearly split with the size of your disbelief ladened smile, as a shirt you once gifted him is tugged free from a messy pile. Red and black overworn and stretched out cotton is strewn onto and over your lap, and you clutch onto it as you try to figure out his expression. James stares forward as you slowly and carefully lift your hips up to tug the sticking material from your still dampened skin, and you hold back a shiver as you free your bottom half. You can see in the yellowed light from the other cars multiple feet away from his that his hands are gripping the steering wheel, and his teeth are pressing themselves into his bottom lip, worrying the natural swell. You tug the remainder of the dress off of you and drag the shirt and his scent over your mussed hair and head, and slowly lower yourself to lay back against the tinted leather.

By the time you've got your dress half folded up and resting near your bare feet, James is loosening the hold he has on the steering wheel and turning his head to look in your direction. You tug at the collar of the obviously worn and stressed shirt. "You kept this," you unhelpfully point out, and your breath hitches as you catch the familiar glint of metal on the keychain attached to the keys that were left in the ignition. "And you also kept the gift that I got you for our one-year anniversary."

"What about it?" He grates, his tone aggressive, yet saddened. James' hand lowers to almost protectively touch the keychain, as if he's reminding himself that it's still there. You push yourself up into a fully sitting position, uncaring as the material of the shirt lifts to rest on your upper thighs, as you begin to feel frustrated as well.

"The night I came and told you about me getting accepted into a college out of state, the first words out of your mouth were just take it and go, leave me already. That our relationship was essentially bullshit, and that neither one of us should hold each other back," you're unable to hold your emotions at bay, your tone becoming weaker. Tears burn and make themselves known at the precipice of your waterlines, and James stares at you helplessly as they begin to make their way down your reddened cheeks. "You broke up with me the week after you thanked me for always being by your side, and right after you got news of Cliff wanting to join the band. We celebrated the night before, and we made plans. To travel together and figure our shit out on our own time. That the timeline of things didn't matter, as long as we have each other."

James reaches out to take ahold of your hand, and you edge them further back, averting your eyes to not have to see his reaction to your rejection. You hear a broken exhale, and then the faint sound of something dripping onto leather. The hand James originally reached out to you with is raised temporarily, and then brought back down, now wet with tears. "You don't understand," he begins, the earlier strength and sureness behind his tone now nonexistent. "You were the only person there for me for years, and then an opportunity of a lifetime was offered to you, and I couldn't have let you miss out on that. I know you, and I know that if I had asked you to stay closer or wait another year on your dreams for me, you would have," you look up at him to intercept and disagree, but you hold yourself back when you see the expression on his face. "You gave up so much for me within the years we were together, and even before then. The least I could've done then, was give up the fear of holding you back."

"We could have made it work; we could have figured something out." You try to reason, but let go of trying to rationalize it all when you finally have him in front of you to explain. You reach out this time, and instead of being rejected like you did with him earlier, he meets you halfway. The air pillowing in from the rolled down window smells like moss and post rain shower, the light is artificial and it's getting darker as each minute passes by, but you're here together. And with the first swipe of his thumb across the second knuckle of your left forefinger, you're moving in closer. Your bare knees make brushing contact with his right thigh, and his free hand intertwines itself with the material of his shirt.

"As soon as you left, I ran headfirst into finding the rest of the members of the band. Lars and I almost lost our minds with it, and I needed the distraction. We went days without telephones and nearly without food. Even if we could've tried to make it work, we wouldn't have been how we were," he traces the faded and ripped lettering and guides his fingertips up to the collar, before using it as leverage to usher you forward until you're both only centimeters apart. His exhale becomes your inhale, and as you blink, you can feel as your eyelashes skim and make brief contact with his cheekbone. "I think I needed to lose you, to figure out what shit really matters."

Hope blooms in your chest. And despite being partially freezing cold, terrified of making the wrong move, overstepping and then getting out of the truck alone, being in such a close proximity to him brings you so much comfort and warmth. "And what shit really matters?" You ask, tilting your head up with a nod, and fighting back the urge to close your eyes as your lips brush against his. You can sense and feel his answering grin without even having to glance down. And for the first time in two years, and instead of being kissed goodbye, you're being welcomed back in.

"You matter." Is murmured within a gasp, and you're unable to process anything but the touch of him again. Each brush of lips and the teasing swipe of tongue has you letting go of his hand and instead freeing your own to grip onto the handle of the driver's side door, only to use it as leverage to climb onto his lap. His hands are on you instantly, easily finding their way underneath his gifted shirt to dig his fingertips into your heated up flesh, his palm making direct and firm contact with your spine to push you even closer up against him.

You have to lean back and disconnect your guys' lips to suck in a much needed inhalation of breath, and James takes advantage of your newly exposed skin once you do. His tongue lengthens itself down and leaves trails of saliva and marks in its wake, and by the time he's got you littered in marks and nearly rutting against his lap, he's pleading with you. "Tell me you're going to stay."

You raise your hand to reach up and grasp onto his long, blonde locks, your lips swollen and bruised red, and your breath still lost. With a gentle tug and an answering groan, you whisper.

"Give me a reason to."

[thebrainrotsreal]

BACK ON MY INVINCIBLE MLP CROSSOVER JOY!!! I love this crossover smmmm, my soul is happy, cured even, treated of all possible ills. For Andressa's species, instead of relying on a horn for magic (which they don't have), every filly is bestowed a gem for magic! AND, because I want it, Oliver has some winks to Andressa's designs with the swirls on his legs mimicking the lines on hers, sharing a thinly tail, tiny little bumps like spikes, and the curls sorta kinda maybe like her antennae (if you squint and believe, which you should). Andressa and Oliver ilysm. Best purple pony on the planet tbh, sorrry not sorry Twilight Sparkle :/

Bonus drawing of Oliver trying to practice magic by lifting a sheet of paper, he's trying his best, ok???

[pollyna]

The night Bradley wakes up to find his parents sleeping on the ground around his bed is the night he gets annoyed because "nobody told me we were doing a sleepover!" So he takes his too-big-of-a-soft-plush, that's goose-shaped, and goes straight to cuddle with his dads. But Uncle Slider is there too, and Uncle Slider is the best person to cuddle when his parents aren't around, and he looks a little lonely. So he pats his dad's blond head and makes space for himself and Goosey between his uncle's arms. He's comfier than his bed, and Bradley doesn't have a single nightmare all night.

[amethyst-marshmallow]

dude i just watched a mouthwashing playthrough and dude. like that was a horror game, but it wasnt a normal horror game. a normal horror game makes me jump and scream. This one? i was frozen. my eyes were wide with terror. i was cold, even though i was wearing a blanket. I was holding onto my blanket and i didnt even realize until it literally started hurting because i was holding on so hard. I cried at least twice. i was frozen in terror afterwards. I wasn't even playing the game yet i still felt everything. What the hell did I just see.

ok but seriously THE SOUND DESIGN?????????? SO good and it was SO terrifying. the breathing sounds and the sounds of curly taking the pills were so gross omg i am not the same person after hearing all that it was heart wrenching and soul crushing and dream shattering im going to rot away and turn into mold holy shit

Also normally i dont like nonlinear storytelling because its normally confusing to me but this one???? So good, it woudnt have worked linearly. the graphics also are good, its gory and gross and it couldn't be better. I'm terrified and might not sleep tonight. i love you daisuke and i fucknig hate you jimmy grrrrrr

[frogaroundandfindout]

You remember when dick was in space (for the first time with the new teen titans) because komand’r took Kory back and they needed to save her? And you remember how he understood it was a war they were fighting and that they needed to do what they had to in order to survive it? And how when Gar told him he needed to control Kory, dick wondered if he even should try to stop her from killing her sister? And how he literally killed to save her (there’s some deniability but he’s literally hitting them with lasers described as deadly right in the head)? I do.

[worstloki]

Loki telling the Avengers he's never had a family before them all and Thor is sitting in the back of the room spitting out his coffee sobbing crying he feels sick to his stomach

[just-a-carrot]

reunion 💕

[mortysmith]

Fuck you season five episode nine genuinely some of the worst shit they clobbered together

[ask-thearchivists]

Earth is a terrestrial planet, despite 70% of it's surface being covered in water. It has a molten iron core, and has existed for about 4.5 billion years. It's the third planet out from it's star (a yellow dwarf).

The Cartologist: Oooh, interesting, is there more?

The Cartologist: Oh, is that what the song about cheese comes from?

The Coordinator: Yes, mortal planets that have had life for a long time do tend to experience multiple extinction events, which is one of the reasons it is important we tend to our duties.

[braidedhades]

just found out that non-aromantics actually have feelings towards the people they decide to have a crush on. Apparently it’s not like, “hmmm should I consider this person for dating? what are the pros and cons here?” Or like, “I want to be really close friends with that person” But it’s like an actual emotional response or something? An emotion that is different from the “I wanna be really close friends” emotion??

also I just figured out that I’m aromantic

[despair-tea]

one thing I dislike is the sophomoric idea that society should, naturally, move towards a completely genderless model. I get where it's coming from, but it assumes an impossible level of homogeneity rather than accepting that - in the infinity of genders that DO and WILL exist - there are some which will take familiar forms and patterns and names.

Like, look, I don't live in the androgynous future ze're imaging. But if I did I would still feel alienated and out-of-place in a slightly different way from the way I felt growing up under gendered capitalism. Because I'm not genderless, and I know damn well that I'd still feel some calling to change... something about myself. Even without words like "woman" or "witch."

It's a nice dream. it might be comforting to some. But it seems like an airy fantasy to me, and not one I can see myself living in.

Obviously I agree that the barriers between genders need to be broken down. Obviously I don't think the traditional gender roles as our society sells them to us are working. But the future I see has more kinds of people and not less.

[pensivespacepirate]

it feels like the whole purpose of venom 3 is to kill off venom what the fuck