#marti's mad life

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This is the stupidest fucking banner ad I click it by accident all the time and it leads back to the front page of tumblr

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Boney McClyde does the last of the autumn chores, even though he'd rather rest

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This can be a huge source of medical trauma and it's so cruel that it's being imposed on people by the medical establishment itself. How can they help but feel anything but helpless? There's no fighting that.

I can't help but think of this from my own perspective as a fibromyalgia patient who keeps having to fight being thought of as (or even being labeled as) drug-seeking.

I am literally just trying to live life closer to the standard that 'normal' people have every day.

Why is it in any way fair that most people are mostly pain-free and capable of doing the things they want to do, but I have to suffer with pain on a daily basis that is at minimum, on a very rare, very good day, at level 5?

Why is it when I report that my pain level is at level 7, 8, 9, I only get doctors side-eyeing me and explaining my OTC options?

I have had chronic pain since I was 8. I'm very fucking aware of my OTC options, so no thank you, doc.

And when I spend 20 minutes explaining in detail that my daily pain has noticeably increased and changed in quality since around January 1st, why should I have my PCP giggle at me every time I say that I need help with managing my pain and learning ways to deal with it?

It felt incredibly invalidating and I wish he would have said, look, I don't have the expertise to help you, so here's a referral to a pain specialist.

I only found out there was a such thing by trying to research the topic after this on my own!

So yeah, it's not just the insurance companies, it's the doctors, too.

It's almost like having a profit-motivated medical establishment hurts patients.

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lmao sure

[ID: the word 'reason' with a heart next to it.]

here's a random word generator--whatever word it gives you is now the thing you are the deity of

[chanelnumbermine]

2024 f2 boys when you’re on your period | f2 grid picks! x afab!reader

i tried to keep is as gender neutral as possible, i hope you enjoy! i’m still not over this season tbh, so this is me celebrating all the wonderful we made watching f2 this year! most iconic podiums, best battles and the most amazing lineup. it was a pleasure to enjoy this ride with all of you

pairing(s): ollie bearman x afab!reader, kimi antonelli x afab!reader, zane maloney x afab!reader, paul aron x afab!reader, pepe marti x afab!reader, luke browning x afab!reader;

warning(s): mentions of blood?, periods in general, maybe innuendo?

ollie bearman | prema—> haas f1

surprisingly shy about it!

doesn’t want to hurt you in any way, since you’re so sensitive and sore all over

figures its better to not say anything when you’re having an outburst

just watches you with puppy dog eyes and whisperes “can i do anything for you?”

you either burst into tears or scream at him for being so clueless and then also cry into his chest

so he just makes tea

he doesn't really know how to cook, but the british upbringing made him an excellent tea brewer

or so he tells you, knowing it makes you roll your eyes and chuckle

kimi antonelli | prema —> mercedes amg petronas

so so eager to do anything for you!

but kimi might be quite confused about things, especially if you have some weird cravings lol

he’s going to joke about those brownies or steaks, even if you get mad with him, he doesn’t understand he overstepped until you’re really upset with him

so desperate to get you to forgive him

my boy is panicking

turns into a real-life teddy bear

too scared to say anything and trusts that physical contact with do the talking for him

would put on your favourite movie and press kisses all over your cute face until you pout

"please don't pout, tesoro. can i do anything to make you smile again?"

zane maloney | rodin —> formula e

takes this time as an opportunity to get to know you even better

long talks when you can’t sleep bc of cramps and soreness

makes it a point to ask about everything and anything you might need during this time

absolutely ridiculously in love with you, this guy, i swear

has a list of things to do before you get your period

"why would you have a period tracker on your phone?"

he's totally unfazed if you scream at him, which angers you even more and then burst into tears, because why is he so??

he would kiss belly, especially if you're ticklish, just to make you smile a little

paul aron | hitech —> bwt alpine reserve driver

actually enjoys this immensely

he feels useful and that makes him feel good about himself and your relationship

snack run? watch him storm out of the apartment in seconds

blood stain? more than glad to wash your covers

takes this opportunity to bring more blankets and tuck you in

would go absolutely feral if you're particularly sensitive during this time

has to touch you all the time, just to make sure nothing bad happens to you

right? hm, sure. totally not bc he wants to see you squirm a little, nope

pepe marti | campos, redbull academy

resident boyfriend material

but so so smug about it!!!

would be disgustingly overprepared and proud of himself, bragging about what a great partner he is

especially if you get emotional about it (hormones can be rough ugh)

stops yapping once he realises you’re serious and in need some comfort

you’re in his lap in seconds, his warm arms hugging your frame

i would picture him shirtless, trying to give you as much warmth as he can as you cuddle into the late hours of the night

luke browning | hitech —> f2

that’s, my friends, a classic gentleman

he’s quite known for being close with his family, very down to earth, and mature

so i think that attitude would extend to taking care of you during those few difficult days

i picture him calling his mum to ask how to be there for you

he's very perceptive, any gaps in his knowledge are quickly filled by his keen observations and eagerness to learn

would search the internet for cramp remedies and end up with some oddly specific ridiculous one

it's either a miracle or a total disaster, but he manages to bring a smile to your face every time, so he's satisfied

let me know if you'd like more content like that or any drivers you'd like me to write for

masterlist

[starkwlkr]

my love | cillian murphy

The media and fans went crazy when photos of Cillian and Y/n were posted online. Everyone wanted to know more about them, every single detail. Y/n knew what the next interviews would be like.

“Cillian this, Cillian that. How did you meet? How did he ask you out? Are you getting married soon?”

Thank god she had some time off before she was hit with a bunch of questions regarding her relationship. She decided to spend that time with her family and Cillian. Her family immediately welcomed Cillian, which she was super glad about. Her mother was happy to see her daughter happy with someone.

After spending a week with her family, Cillian took her to Ireland to meet his family. Y/n was nervous, but once she met his mother, her nerves had disappeared. Of course every family visit was filled with embarrassing childhood stories and baby pictures. Cillian’s mom even promised Y/n she would send some to her without Cillian knowing.

When the couple got back to Y/n’s home in New York, the first thing they did was sleep. They loved meeting each other’s families, but the jet lag was starting to get to them. That night, Cillian fell asleep with only one thought on his mind.

He needed to find the perfect ring for her.

“Have I told you how much I love your food?” Cillian pressed a kiss to Y/n’s lips. It was a new day and Cillian knew that when Y/n made breakfast, he would spend the rest of his day happy.

“Only every day, but I love it when you remind me.” Y/n smiled as she placed several plates on the table with different foods then gave Cillian his own plate so he could pick out what he wanted to eat.

“Any plans for today?” He asked, sitting down next to her.

“Well I have an interview with vogue at three and a meeting with Holly. That’s pretty much my day, what about you?” Y/n questioned. She grabbed a piece of toast and started to eat it.

“Nothing too big, just asking the love of my life if she would accompany me to a movie premiere this weekend. I’m hoping she says yes.” He casually said which caused Y/n to choke on her toast.

“This weekend?”

“Unless you’re too busy. . ”

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes. “I’m never busy for you. Oh god. . I have to get a dress and do my hair and makeup! What am I going to wear? Shit, I have nothing.”

“Relax, darling. I have it covered. I asked Holly to get you a dress and take care of everything you need while we were in Ireland. I don’t want you to stress about anything.” Cillian told her.

Y/n didn’t know it was possible, but she fell more in love with Cillian. How could a person be so perfect? She was definitely the luckiest woman in the world.

“I really love you so much.” Y/n spoke.

“And I really love you too,” Cillian replied. “I’m going to tell you something crazy. I really want to marry you.”

Y/n scooted her chair closer to his. She smiled brightly and leaned in as if she was going to tell him a secret. “It doesn’t sound crazy because I want to marry you too.”

Then Cillian kissed her lightly. “You know what’s an even crazier idea?”

“I’m listening.” She cupped his cheek with her hand.

“How mad our families and friends, especially managers, would be if we went to Vegas and got married by some guy dressed as Elvis. Crazy, right?”

“So crazy…”

TAGLIST

@leclercloml @butterfly-skinnylegend @rockerchick05 @agustdpeach @celesteblack08 @probablypossesedbysatan @kittyrumbl3r @electrobutterfly @knpgituloh @butlersluvbot @captainwans @bellstwd @theekyliepage @marti-su @multifans-things @ceruleanrainblues @litterallnobody @barnes70stark @astheni-a @jackierose902109 @sinarainbows @cosniffee @thatgirlthatreadswattpad

[vilebird]

FUNERAL AFTER A NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE

a painting of a pale sky and bright blue sea crashing onto dark rocks and foaming. it's oriented the right way. - Day, by Frederick Judd Waugh

"and the man looks me in the eyes and he points to the blue-orange vault over heaven's gates and he says the face of everyone you miss is up there and i know i know i can't see them but i know" - And What Good Will Your Vanity Be When The Rapture Comes, by Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib

"i've cut myself off. i can feel the place / where i used to be attached. it's raw, as when you grate / your finger. it's a shredded mess / of images. it hurts." The Door, by Margaret Atwood

"i found you / i found the door / but when i stepped through / there was no floor" I want you, by Mitski

a still from a video of a bright setting sun against a dark orange sky and dark blue sea, with the caption "don't cry" - The Green Ray (1986)

"i feel dead. / i feel as if i were the residue of a stranger's life" - The Lost Pilot, by James Tate

"the shuddering moan of blood, a song to calm the sacrificial, the loss across the river. the way a dying animal will look at you is seared into me. we tie together and all over again." - i cant remember what this one is sorru

"i am feeling numb. it's a curious feeling, and i get it all the time. my attention to the world around me disappears, and something starts to hum inside my head. far off, voices try to bump up against me, but i repel them. my ears fill up with water and i focus on the humming inside my head. / i am inside my skull. it is a little cave, and i curl up inside it. below it, my body hovers, unattached." - Madness: A Bipolar Life, by Marya Hornbacher.

"-though we're dry and waiting. part of me died here so another could go on. the body i raised-" - When They Say you Can't Go Home Again What They Mean is You Where Never There, by Marty McConnell

text: "there'll always be a few things / maybe several things/ that you're gonna find / really difficult to forgive" image: a black silhouette of a minotaur sitting on top of a pale pillar rising out of a pale maze, looking out at an orange sunset over an empty desert beyond the walls of its maze. the text is black letters on white pasted in strips over top. - Up the Wolves by the Mountain Goats and Minotauro by Jordi Garriga Mora. collage put together by @scatterghosts

"i know there are things i haven't survived." - Lord of the Butterflies, by Andrea Gibson

"it seems to me that the dead only return for love or for revenge. who did you come back for?" - White is for Witching, by Helen Oyeyemi

a painting of a bright white bird on a background split between dark blue and black - Promised Land (2013), by Michael Creese

"and with or without your support, i will continue / what im trying to say is you never know what you've been through / til you pause and cough it out" - Cough It Out by The Frontbottoms

"painting all the mirrors black / i won't see you staring back / i'm getting lost forever / searching in the broken glass / trying to ignore the past / and put myself together" - Mirrors by 8 Graves

"saint calvin told me not to worry about you / but he's got his own things to deal with / there's really just one thing we have in common: / neither of us will be missed" - Saint Bernard by Lincoln

"so many bright lights to cast a shadow / but can i speak? / well, is it hard understanding / that i'm incomplete?" - Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance

"being in a completely normal nonthreatening scenario & environment and thinking 'i have GOT to get the fuck out of here' with the intensity of some trapped neurotic prey animal" - tumblr post by user @greelin

"but you know me / what can't i conjure into hysteria / and longing? / any place is a funeral as soon as i get there. / of course i'm the disaster / but you're the one foolish enough / to learn my name." - The Next Time We Talk on Facebook, by Clementine von Radics

"if your wounds are still open, trust / they are the doors to an answer, / and walk through." - You Better Be Lightning, by Andrea Gibson

text: "what a tremendous thing to learn from" image: black text on white strips across a blue-orange gradient - i forgot this one too sory

"when the body remembers, it bucks wildly / when we try to heal, the phantom smell returns / while in the shower, you break down / while you wash your body you realise it is not your body / and at the same time, it is the only body you have" - Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head, by Warsan Shire

"that was the thing. you never got used to it, the idea of somebody being gone. just when you think it's reconciled, accepted, someone points it out to you, and it just hits you all over again, that shocking." - The Truth About Forever, by Sarah Dessen

"the spirit is so hurt / it don't know the / body / it / looks in / the mirror / and asks, who is it?" - On/My/Aging, by Carolyn Marie Rodgers

"could we sit together in new bodies, shoulder to tender / shoulder, / the lovely and the thorned, the bitter and the failed, / the grave to the left of us, the sea to the right?" - 8, Always a Rose, by Li-Young Lee

"the fact of the matter is / you survived, / it's what you do. / death and you / walk side by side / all sigh and scythe / you stay alive. / and you have the right / but struggle to believe. / you're still allowed / to be alive. / it feels inappropriate." - It's What You Do, by Lena Oleanderson @lena-oleanderson

a painting of a bright orange sky at sunset, sun nowhere to be seen, over a pale sea crashing onto dark rocks and foaming. it's oriented upside down. - Night, by by Frederick Judd Waugh

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okay i've heard this before but literally, if i don't blast it nothing happens? like literally nothing happens, nothing ends up on the tissue

i get that pushing harder/blowing your nose actively makes a congested nose worse via increasing sinus pressure but not for me though. if i just keep blasting it will work and my nose will clear up for me. this is how im reaching heaven through violence.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

Mat’s dancing to Taylor making him a Swiftie. Do you think mat and squeaks went to any of the eras tour concerts?

OH BOY DID THEY! They actually go to a few concerts because squeaks is a big swiftie and so is mat ☺️ i’ll talk a little bit about each concert they went to broken down by venue!

may 26-28 at metlife

squeaks is low key glad they’re out of the playoffs by this point so she can go to the shows without worrying about a schedule interference with the games

they don’t go to the show on the 26th because that’s mat’s birthday but they go on the 27th and 28th

squeaks is so mad they miss getaway car and maroon and jack antonoff as the special guest but it’s mat’s birthday so she won’t make him go to a show on his birthday

the 27th is the saturday show and they go with a whole group of their friends (def syd and marty, noah and alexa, whoever else you think may want to go) - they’re in a suite for this show since it’s a big group

squeaks is in a full on costume, dresses up and has the time of her life

mat and the guys are in pink heart shaped glasses and colorful feather boas

surprise songs are holy ground and false god

mat fake proposes again during love story because he’s so drunk and the fans around them are losing their minds bc they end up getting recognized a bit

the 28th is the sunday show and they go alone for this one

it’s a little more chill because they get semi-decent seats, choosing to be more in the middle of the crowd

surprise songs are welcome to new york and clean

squeaks dances her ass off during the whole concert but mat manages to get his arms around her for some of the show and they sway along together to the slower songs

they trade friendship bracelets with the fans (squeaks was manic, stress making bracelets during the playoffs to keep herself from actively losing it too much while watching the away games)

since they’re in metlife and in a more recognizable space, they do get posted to social media a bunch at both shows, and squeaks low key loves it because she gets to see the really cute pictures and videos the fans took

her favorite is a picture someone took of mat’s forearm wrapped around her collarbones and him pressing a kiss to her temple during the lover set

july 13-14 in milan

they go to the milan shows because they’re already in italy for ryan’s wedding so why not?

and also squeaks is DYING to see the ttpd set in person

the 13th is the saturday show and the surprise songs are a mashup of the 1 and wonderland & i almost do and the moment i knew

the 14th is the sunday show and the surprise songs are a mashup of mr perfectly fine and red & getaway car and out of the woods

squeaks freaks out that she gets to hear getaway car finally

they’re both more chill at these shows because they didn’t bring a bunch of like outfits since they were there for the wedding

both are in like more casual linen outfits, squeaks in a lilac two piece set one night and a short little white linen dress the other

they both trade friendship bracelets (because squeaks made a whole bunch before they left)

beau and emma join them for one of the shows and everyone makes fun of mat for his extreme knowledge of taylor lyrics

these shows they’re more like “under the radar” because they’re in italy and not as noticeable so they act a little sillier and goof off and are just really lovey and touchy

december 6-8 in vancouver

obviously these shows haven’t happened yet in real life, but you bet your ass squeaks goes to them

at least one show anyway

liana’s back in canada for december to see everyone and spend the holidays with the family

mat is obviously in the middle of the season so he gets bummed that squeaks flies up to vancouver to spend time with liana before the barzals fly to long island for christmas with mat and squeaks

tickets are squeaks’ christmas gift to liana and they have a blast together

both get all dressed up and trade friendship bracelets with fans and send mat pictures and videos of the show

squeaks hangs around vancouver for a couple of weeks before heading home to make sure everything is ready for christmas

general swiftie headcanons

squeaks is a big lover/folklore/evermore/midnights/ttpd girlie

mat loves 1989 and red

squeaks loves the little easter eggs taylor leaves for fans but she’s not like big on trying to solve the clues (she does clown and is convinced taylor was gonna announce rep tv on london night 8 and every time she says taylor’s announcing rep tv, mat says “again?”)

they both agree that taylor and travis are adorable together and squeaks tries to see if there’s a way mat or any of the guys can finagle a way to play golf with travis so she can become friends with taylor

the closest she gets to that is going to a giants/chiefs game at metlife

mat definitely wears a friendship bracelet squeaks makes for him (what it says is up to you guys, i have an idea of what it might say, but all ideas are valid)

[weepynymph]

Gilmore girls boyfriend ranking (these are my opinions you are allowed to disagree but like don’t yell at me please I’m fragile)

1. Dave (my beloved has never done anything wrong in his life ever)

2. Jess (he screws up A LOT but he gains points for s6 and for being my little meow meow)

3. Morey (he serenades his wife daily, need I say more?)

4. Kirk (10/10 devotion will not even LOOK at another woman even if it mean crossing the street with his eyes closed)

5. Luke (I love him he waited EIGHT YEARS for her but he loses points for s6/7)

6. Richard (he screws up sometimes but he’s Emily’s no.1 fan devoted 4 life they’re made for each other)

7. Max (good guy had rizz but just not The Guy unfortunately)

8. Alex (it’s billy burke the only reason he’s not higher is we barely see him but he is good vibes and like the only guy we see get on with lorelai’s friends)

9. Jason (funny but not The Guy, plus kinda a snob. I like Jason though he’s entertaining, even if the idea of him and Lorelai actually having sex does not compute in my brain AT ALL)

10. Jamie (he was sweet and kinda deserved better tbh still a little boring)

11. Doyle (devoted and entertaining but a little boring at times - I wanted more for Paris)

12. Marty (we all know a Marty and I hate to say it but I think he’d be a terrible boyfriend and a bad kisser)

13. Jackson (mad points lost for lying about having a vasectomy that was not cool man)

14. Henry (he bailed on lane - fool)

15. Logan (I’m sorry but he loses SO MANY points for gaslighting those scenes trigger me so hard)

16. Tristan (he loses points for actual harassment but at least he’s mildly complex)

17. Zach (I hate him)

18. Christopher (no)

19. Dean (the hardest no)

20. Asher (die)

I’ve probably forgotten someone I made this in a fever dream like four months ago and decided to post it on a whim lol

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Marti's creepshow schedule

Already watched:

Stranger Things season 1

Signs

☆ Donnie Darko

☆ Get Out

Shaun of the Dead

On now: The Stand (1994)

Planned:

☆ Nope

(☆ new to me)

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[ID: tags that say #i bought two swords after thinking about this post #your old professor dealing second hand damage now. end ID.]

Yes but to my bipolar babes:

That's the mania talking. Put that down until after you look at your budget.

whenever i'm trying to talk myself out of buying something i don't need i always hear my old russian professor's voice echoing in my head: "WHAT??? WILL YOU DIE THE RICHEST MAN IN THE GRAVEYARD?" and then i make an unwise financial decision

[gretavanlace]

Valtava

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, pain during sex (this is handled gently and lovingly) language, dirty talk, etc.

Everyone thank our dear @jake-kiszkas-smirk for the scene where his head is resting on her stomach. I’ll say no more to avoid spoiling it, but it’s delicious and it was her idea that she so kindly left in my hands. Thank you, you filthy genius, you. I love you madly. Also, I no longer remember who to credit for this pic of Josh, it’s been in my camera roll so long. But I couldn’t not use it for this…that’s dangerously close to sacrilege.

“This scene right here,” Josh speaks over Ray Liotta’s musings, one arm stretched across the back of his couch, the other bent to stroke his thumb along your jawline, absently “This is where Scorsese really stretches his wings. Here we are, watching the heinous discovery of murder after murder while Layla, a song about love and lust, lulls us. We feel both safe and shaky.”

His fingers now wind through your hair, relaxed and warm, with your head in his lap. “I think it serves as a reminder that even ugly can dip its toe into the waters of beautiful, if you squint hard enough.”

He pauses and talks over his own stream of thoughts, “Well, most ugly things, anyway. Someone saw these murders as a necessary evil. Something to ensure the world they had built for themselves, for their families, stayed clean. Someone went home and slept a little easier knowing there was one less heart beating out there ready to turn state's witness on them.”

You nod and hope for him to keep going. The way his mind works fascinates you, as does the unique lilt of his tone, and the excitement that sharpens his gaze when he is ruminating on something that really spins the wheel for the hamster in his brain.

Catering to your unspoken wish, he carries on, “And maybe even the victims were in on the method to the madness, y’know? They chose the life they chose, they understood how quickly loyalty and love can shape- shift into survival and self preservation. Layla helps the audience understand. It marries the beauty and the bloodshed for the people in the seats.” he shakes his head in wonder. “It’s fucking genius.”

“Thought your brother was the big Marty fan?” You ask, studying the perfect cupid's bow of his lips from below.

“Jake?” His eyes are on the screen, but his focus is on you. “Tarantino. I dig the use of his nickname, though. Marty. It makes it seem as if you have him over for dinner regularly.”

“Maybe I do.” You tease.

You earn a smile, but still not his gaze. “And what do you serve?”

Adopting a tone of nonchalance, you shrug, “Usually, we make love until dawn and then share cold spaghettiOs right out of the can.”

“Ah,” He nods seriously, “the opulence. It’s all very grand.”

A comfortable silence wraps itself around you both until you have a thought that pokes to be shared.

“Do you suppose Scorsese might have chosen Layla because of the double-edged sword it also happens to be as a piece? Since Clapton wrote it about his best friend's wife?” You feel a blush heat your cheeks, and immediately wish you hadn’t contributed. He knows so much about film and you know so little.

True to Joshua-form, however, he hushes your unease effortlessly. “Shit! I’d never even considered that. The beauty for Clapton was the ugly for Harrison. God, I’m so in love with the way your mind sees everything that’s invisible to mine.”

I’m so in love with…

He means the ideas in your head, the quiet corners of your thoughts, but it quickens your heart and nudges the butterflies in your stomach to life, nonetheless.

So, you pull yourself up, a thigh nestled on either side of his waist in the blink of a breath.

“Hi.” You long for the timid smile dancing shyly on your lips to morph into something sultry. Something sexy. Something that might flicker the darkened flame, that hides down deep in his belly, to life.”

“Hi.” He grins back, allowing you to wiggle around until you’re comfy in his lap. “If Goodfellas is boring you, I stand zero chance of keeping you entertained, baby love.”

Your fingers worry over the beads looped around his neck and then twist into the soft pink linen of his shirt, finally coming to rest at the button fastened nearest to his throat. Your eyes travel over him, hungry to soak him in. To tuck this image of Josh, so quietly content with you perched above him, away in your heart…a pretty picture to revisit when he inevitably becomes a memory.

What is he thinking? That question seems to occupy your mind more often than any other. He is an enigma. A mystery parading as wide open sunshine.

Intrusive thoughts, cruel and unrelenting, silently bully you. You’ve become quite adept at ignoring them over the years, opting for at least some semblance of normalcy in your quest for a happy, healthy life. Whatever that means.

But these thoughts in particular are cloaked in far too much truth…too many signs pointing to the worst being the obvious…to be easily disregarded.

You want to say these things to him. If only to bask in the assurance you might catch in his reply. But to risk the absence of said reassurance, is a feat too great.

Instead, you begin a tentative roll of your hips as you lean in close to meet his pillowy lips with your own. He tastes of mint, and the IPA he has been nursing, and Josh.

Like always, he indulges the kiss, but stills your hips, and you long to vanish into thin air, leaving nothing more than a coiling wisp of smoke in your wake. The rejection comes with a throbbing ache in your chest. Is your heart truly breaking? Now you’ll be forced to offer it to him in pieces.

And he isn’t the only one to indulge in old habits, because, also like always, you crawl into the safe embrace of humor. “You’re right, Joshua…you’re boring me. Back to the brilliant mind of Marty, my beloved.”

You slide off of him and stretch back out on the couch, focusing on the screen to hide your tear glossed eyes as he gets comfortable behind you.

“Scorsese, you bastard,” he shakes his fist in mock indignation, “how dare you steal the affections of my woman?”

A forced laugh comes out sounding a little too close to a sob. You play it off as best you can. Nothin’ to see here.

Alas, he catches it. And, of course, he won’t leave it alone, though you certainly ask him too.

“What is it, baby? What’s wrong?” He turns you toward him, hovering over you as you lie on your back and long to melt away. “Talk to me.”

“I just— I mean,” death seems of great comfort. “Is it me? Do you not… are you not… am I not pretty enough? Or sexy enough? Or… I don’t know,”

A frown of deep concern furrows his brow as his palms move to cup your face, “What? Are you not…Jesus, baby, of course you are. Fuck, if anything you’re too much. Too pretty, too sweet, too smart, too sexy.”

Your words come quiet and small, quivering with painful vulnerability “Then why?” You close your eyes, and thankfully, he allows you to hide this way.

Exactly what you knew would happen, happens. He lies without lying. “Why, what?” He sounds of feigned confusion. He knows what you mean.

Throat now constricted and pulsing with a wringing pain, you close your eyes tighter, unwilling to bear witness to whatever lie will follow his last. “Why don’t you want me?”

A tear breaches the dam you had hoped was impenetrable. You loathe and curse it.

“Hey, shhh…don’t do that. Don’t cry.” He brushes the tear away and then kisses over the path it took.

“Don’t cry?” You snap. A twinge of regret flares to life within you. You’ve never spoken to him unkindly, and could it be that there’s no going back? Perhaps this is it; the end of the road you’ve been heading inevitably for.

To your great surprise, he laughs. You crack an eyelid open to find it sincere. “So, she’s capable of something other than sugar, spice, and everything nice, after all.”

His hand smooths down your chest - can he feel the violent rattle of your heart as it thrums and beats out of control?

When at last he speaks, there is an edge to his tone you’ve never heard before. It warms you clear through to your curling toes “You think I don’t want you?”

You shrug, all pink cheeks and complete ineloquence.

“Well,” he soothes, drawing gentle patterns upon your temple and forehead, “you should know, that is far from the case.”

But, rather than take the moment further, as he so easily could, as you so desperately want him to, he sinks into an innocent position - resting his cheek on your stomach as you struggle to keep it from rising and falling too rapidly, his eyes, once more, on the screen.

The film drones on; mafia murders and cocaine swirling down flushed toilets. Betrayal and 20/20 hindsight…

…and on you watch, on the surface - in reality, you can think of nothing else other than the weight of his head on your stomach.

There is a dull ache there, inside you, gripping at every nerve ending all at once. He knows what you want, and he very obviously doesn’t want the same thing. He doesn’t want you.

He speaks first, and there’s too much truth in it. He knows you too well. “I need you to stop that.”

“Stop what?” You stupidly offer a tiny shrug, but for what? He isn’t even looking at you.

“Your walls, I can feel you stacking bricks. Stop, or I’ll take a wrecking ball to them.” he pets over your forearm comfortingly. It doesn’t help.

“Alright, Miley,” you toss the joke out like a life preserver for yourself. “Just don’t start licking sledgehammers and we’ll be alright.”

He gives you the softest laugh. It more closely resembles a sigh, “Is it only sledgehammers that you are opposed to me licking?”

Oh.

When he coolly pushes your shirt up and begins dragging his lips, licked slick and warm, around your belly button, you think you might burst into tiny, burning, longing, pieces. God, how you want him.

“You like that, baby love?” He speaks the words melodically into the room like a lullaby, hushed as a priest absolving you of your sins in a darkened confessional.

A whiny hum is all you seem capable of, but it doesn’t look like it matters much to him.

“Yeah?” He’s teasing now, and you think it might kill you. Your hips begin a barely perceptible rock in response. “Can I touch you, sweetheart? Do you want that?”

“Josh, please,” his name is less than a whisper. It’s a plea gasped into the dark, dancing with the flickering glow of the tv as it blinks and changes like lightning.

The warmth of his hand between them causes your thighs to twitch and tremble, but he hovers just above making actual contact. “God, look at you. How could you ever doubt how much I want you? So pretty. Can I touch you here, baby? My pretty, pretty girl.”

With a soft moan, you lift your hips, pressing into his palm. He doesn’t push for words, your body has given him all the consent he needs, and the want in your eyes reiterates.

His mouth is wandering your soft, flushed, stomach as he slides your pants away, gentle and sure, the tip of his tongue bridging the distance between his kisses.

Your hands weave down into his wild curls, comforted by the way they wrap themselves into your touch, spiraling around your fingers as you tug at them and tenderly scratch over his scalp. A particularly sweet drag brings a shiver to life on his shoulders. He groans in appreciation and runs away with another piece of your heart.

“Oh, fuck,” you murmur, surprised and grateful, when at last, he sinks a single finger into your warmth.

Should you at least have the decency to feel shy about the sound it makes? About the way you must be soaking his skin? Perhaps. But you don’t, and judging by the curse he secrets into the still of the night, there isn’t any reason to.

“Does that feel good?” He isn’t taunting you, it’s a genuine question, but there is a hint of a teasing tone there as well, peeking out from around the edges of his words and you think it might just be the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“So good.” You’re whining and writhing beneath him, tiny pouty huffs of breath tumbling off your lips over and over…but you don’t care about that either.

His finger slips out and you mourn it pitifully, until it swirls around your swollen clit, tearing a shaking cry out of your chest. And then, there it is again, filling you as his thumb begins a slick trail of tight circles just right.

“You want more?” Oh god…the way he sounds, the way you feel. He’s setting you further and further on fire with his gentle, decadent, prodding. With his breathy, gingerly obscene questions. Flames - scorching and crackling - lick up inside you. Incinerating as they consume.

“More?” He asks again, rasping the word, wantonly urging you on.

“Yes!” You nod frantically, spreading your legs further. You want him, need him, so badly…coveting the very breath in his lungs for its privilege of being inside him in a way you’ll never know. You long to trickle down into his pores and vanish.

A second finger - they feel longer than they have ever looked - joins the first and then begins a perfect, guiding, curl.

Tucking into that perfect place inside you, he fucks the pads of his fingers against it ever so carefully. Gently spinning your head in every direction.

He rests against your belly as the muscles inside churn and flex beneath his ear, watching intently as his hand fucks away at you. He wonders what it might be like to stretch you to almost breaking. How it would feel to push another finger inside, and then another, and another. When would you tell him to stop? Three? Four? Could you take that burning stretch? Would you relish it and ask for more? Fuck, he hopes so.

But you feel so tight around him…just two fingers full and you’re squeezing like you’ll never let go. He worries, and the pounding pulse of neglect that aches rhythmically in his cock, reminds him that he worries rightly so.

He has always believed you to be the most beautiful thing his eyes have ever had the pleasure of landing upon, but he’s never seen you like this - spread open, soaked and puffy with want. With need…for him. It doesn’t seem possible.

The way you move…fluidly, like ripples chasing over the surface of a placid lake, urging him along with your body. Your gorgeous cunt sucking his fingers in. A goddess, a beckoning siren, an angel…he can’t look away.

Can’t until he hears it, until he feels it, how close you are. Wild, frothing, horses couldn’t keep him from the gift of watching your face as you fall apart. An army of men wouldn’t stand a chance. He wants this moment with you, and he will have it. He wants to make you cum, and he wants to watch your eyes go blurry with it, and so watch he will.

“C’mon, baby…” he goes breathless when his face tilts up to meet yours. You are flushed and panting, lips parted. The soft pink of your tongue just barely visible, blushing like saltwater taffy in your mouth and he wants to lick against it, wants to taste you.

The smallest blips of a sound he can’t describe chase each other out of that beautiful mouth he wants to kiss so badly. Tiny uh’s that shift into gasps of desperation. You’re right there, and he wants it more than you do.

With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, he eases his chin into the softness just below your navel, creating a delicious pressure, and crooks his finger so perfectly, pressing and stroking until it feels like you’re floating and the only thing holding you in place is him.

It is celestial. He is every constellation and you are the astronomer, feet held to the ground by gravity, eye pressed against a telescopic lens hopefully, frantic for a glimpse of his wonder.

There is only Josh.

“Almost there, pretty girl,” he nods, gaze glossed with lust and something that looks like love. “You gonna give it to me?”

You are. You’re going to give it to him. You couldn’t stop it now if you tried. Fluttering walls trap him inside you as his stare fixes, unmoving and heated, with yours.

“That’s it, baby love, that’s it.” He urges you on, leads you deeper and deeper, those long, warm, perfect, fingers working you like he’s been there a thousand times before. “Shh, you’re alright. I’m right here, just breathe for me.”

That’s all it takes for you to realize your lungs are burning for a breath you’ve been unknowingly denying them - and with that hissing, hungry, gasp for air, you explode under him.

He watches, mezmorized, as your eyes roll back, teeth clenched like some ethereal, feral creature. It bursts out of you, clear and shimmering, like liquid diamonds, but you don’t know it yet, he can tell…you’re too far gone, and he fucking loves it. He fucking loves you.

He has said it aloud. I love you, sweetheart. I love you so much. I love you.

But that’s the thing that he doesn’t know yet because he’s also too far gone.

You’re quiet, gentle. Sweet, whining whimpers floating out of you as you vibrate and spill.

On your end, you hear the confession of how deeply his feelings run, but you don’t register…it will settle in later and you’ll weep for not saying it back. Though you don’t need to, he knows.

Once you’ve settled, he pushes up until you are eye to eye, lapping your release off his fingers. You’re sweet enough to lick off a whisk like cake batter, and he tells you so…but you can focus on nothing but the shining glint of you that he wears so well.

Shocked by the sheer amount, you blush hard and hot. Burning brighter still when it drips from his hand and lands on your lip. In an act you don’t seem aware of, you lick it away like a raindrop. The very sight of it, the somehow still innocent depravity, weakens him until he is forced to swallow a whine.

“Had I known what I was missing,” he grins lazily, “I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.”

The confusion sends you crashing back to reality.

“But why stop yourself at all?” Your eyes are so wide and clear. It makes him want to gather you up and keep you safe.

Once more, it crosses his mind that you’re an angel. He wonders where your wings have gone.

“Because, I—“ he falters, shaking his head as if he might rattle his thoughts into place. Finally, he opts to show, not tell, pressing his hips against yours so you can feel him.

And feel him, you do, but only for a moment. He’s so hard you’re cozy from the heat of it through the sweats he was lounging in when you arrived.

You’ve noticed. Of course you have. You’ve stolen a glance or two when he wasn’t looking. How could you not? You’d just always thought, and not to be crass, you’d always just assumed he was a shower, rather than a grower.

Now you aren’t so certain. He felt massive during the short amount of time he was rocking into you.

“You’re thinking very hard, baby love.” He smiles down at you. “Are those thoughts in my favor, or…?”

He trails off and awaits your answer with that Josh-like patience. Rather than speaking, you curl your hands around the waistband of his pants and then cast your eyes up, in silent question.

Nodding the go ahead, he continues watching you closely…studying your reaction as you tug him free.

“Oh, fuck,” the expletive sighs out of you as the tip of his cock - leaking, angry and swollen - slaps up, well above his belly button, with a solid thump.

He’s big. So big. Long and thick, beautifully shaped. Blushing pink at the head, and visibly pulsing under your awestruck scrutiny. You absently wonder how he isn’t light-headed for the amount of blood it must require to bring him to such full attention.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” He explains softly, finally letting you in on the secret of why he’s been so skittish, “And I didn’t want to…”

His confession loses traction as he watches your mouth rather than meeting your gaze.

Your palms reach for him, cupping his angelic face with as much gentleness as the renewed desire racing through your veins will allow. “You didn’t want to what?”

While he searches for the words, you curl your thighs around him and pull him in, moaning out his name like a mantra when you feel him against you, skin to skin.

“God damn, baby…” he rocks his hips closer to yours and then remembers what he’s doing. “I didn’t want to scare you. And I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You tease, trying to lighten the heavy load of his anxiety.

“I know.” His mouth meets yours, searching out a slow, needful kiss. “But I kept imagining hurting you, and you being too sweet to say so. I’m still imagining it.”

Your tongue licks into his mouth as you wrap your fist around him. “Look at you, Josh,” you smile shyly through a kiss that is anything but shy. “My fingers don’t even touch.”

“Grew up under some power lines.” He teases, relaxing as he pecks along your jaw.

“I want you inside me.” You sound despondent, and feel just as forlorn, the look in his eye warns you may have a fight on your hands.

“Pretty girl,” he tucks himself away and begins kissing a slow, serpentine trail down your body after he flutters your shirt, indicating he wants it off. “I could barely get two fingers in your sweet little pussy. Why don’t you just let me kiss it? Don’t you want to cum on my tongue, hmm? Won’t that feel nice?”

Such filth is a captivating development, and one you like very much…but, you stop him all the same. Grabbing him by the hair with enough force to tilt his head back, pulling his mouth away from your straining nipple, you issue a demand you intend to make sure he fulfills, “I said, inside, Joshua.”

He raises an eyebrow and suppresses a grin of dirty glee. “Joshua?”

Ignoring him, you watch as he licks the pad of his thumb and then arch away from the cushion when he begins a steady, swirling journey over your clit with it. “Gonna make you cum first, love. Again and again. I’m gonna baby this gorgeous cunt until my name is the only word you want in your mouth…and then I want you to fill my mouth.”

“Jesus, Josh…” you’ve never wanted anything more, but you can hardly force the words out to convey just how fucking agreeable you are.

“You want that?” He flicks over you faster and faster, indulging in your pouty, needy cries, praying they never end. “You want to cum in my mouth? Feed me something sweet?”

~

“Easy, baby love,” he coos, whispering to you like you’re a tiny, broken bird, fallen from the nest and afraid. “You’ve got to relax a little more for me.”

“Yeah…” you nod, staring up at him as if he painted your entire world into existence. And maybe he did.

No longer able to count the number of orgasms he’s gifted you with, you feel like liquid silk. Or clay in his palm, happy to be molded to his liking.

“Yeah?” He drops a kiss onto your forehead and pushes in just a hint further, eyes darting up when you hiss with discomfort.

You offer a smile for him to continue and he returns it gently, but the way he’s fighting for breath betrays him. He wants you badly, he’s going slowly mad with the need to bury into your body to the hilt.

His fingertips skate a ticklish trail down the curve of your waist and then grip into your thigh, spreading you open a bit wider.

Both bare now completely to each other for the first time, you’ve given yourself over right there on the couch. The room is silent, save for hushed words and choked breaths twisting languidly through the air, the movie long since over.

He’d wanted to carry you off to the bedroom, but you refused.

You want him here. You want him now.

Palm cradling the back of your head, he brings you forward until your mouth is sucking at his shoulder. “Just like that, sweetheart. Good girl.” His praise flips your stomach. A violent somersault of carnal need. “You just suck and bite all you want. I’m gonna take care of you. You know that, don’t you?”

Nodding urgently against him, you’re far too interested in the marks you're leaving against his overheated skin.

“Words for me, okay?” He coaxes so gently it makes your chest ache.

“You’re going to take care of me.” You mumble through a long lick along his collarbone.

Without reply, he slides in deeper, yet still not much more than the tip rests inside you.

A shocked cry escapes you before you can stifle it and his face snaps up, searching your own for tells of pain that he doesn’t have to look all that closely for. “Baby,” the pet name sings out of him, a soft crooning apology. “Let’s stop, I…”

“No, please!’ The frantic want bubbling up inside you colors your voice and surprises you both, but he masks it well.

“Hush, love. No one’s stopping yet.” he soothes, massaging your hip carefully. Just wisps of touch, but you relax beneath it like a sleepy babe cradled up snug and safe.

You’re not fond of that ‘yet’ he tacked on to the end of his promise.

“Deeper.” Your hips lift, forcing his hand while you gulp down another sound of discomfort.

“Don’t.” His grip is suddenly digging into your waist, no longer careful, but swift and insistent instead. “Let me take my time. Let me be gentle. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s right, and you tell him as much as he begins a slow, stuttering journey. Starting and stopping as you writhe with impatience and uncomfortability in his capable hands.

Reaching up, he guides your fingers down until they brush over your sensitive clit. “You take care of this for me, okay, baby? Help me make this easier for my pretty girl…I can’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

“Please, Josh…” you sound a mess, and who gives a damn? “Please!”

You’re right, it’s time. He knows it better than you do. He can wait no more. There isn’t far to go anyway.

Suddenly, with one firm thrust, he drives in all the way to the base, shuddering as you coil around him like a hot, wet, fist. Squeezing harder and tighter and fuck….

“So fucking tight.” He is trembling, fighting the urge to let go already. “It’s like you don’t want to let me go. Pussy so pretty and soft. Like the sweetest thing all dressed in pink. Aren’t you fucking gorgeous?”

Your eyes drift closed, breathing through the last remnants of the biting sting. You’re so full, it feels so good. So right. So completely perfect, you cannot begin to fathom how you’ve lived all these years without him inside you.

“Say it.” He sounds like an angel clawing his way closer and closer to something he can’t survive without any longer.

“What?”

“Tell me you’re gorgeous.” He’s fucking you faster now…and it stings, but it hurts so good you want to feel the burn forever. “Say you’re my beautiful girl. Come on, I wanna know that you know.”

“I—“ your face flares as pink as the cunt he’s currently locked inside

“That’s it, baby love…” he coaxes, pumping into you with long, torturous strokes. “C’mon,”

A little less tentative now - he effortlessly makes you believe - the words finally come “I’m gorgeous.”

He smiles so wide his nose crinkles as he nods and dips his lips to meet your own. “Fuck yes you are. My pretty girl. You’re doing so well, look at you. Just taking and taking and taking me.”

Pulling you up and away from the pillow gently, he guides your line of sight to the sinful image of him gliding in and out of you. His cock, glistening and covered in your unbridled desire - it catches the light and steals your heart. Is it possible to be in love with a cock? Or are you just in love with the man who wields it?

Both. Most definitely, both.

“Look, baby, look…” a quivering huff escapes him. “It’s like coming home. Being inside you is like coming fucking home.”

“Harder,” you beg, winded and lost. He feels so good inside you. Stretched further than you ever thought possible around him, you clench and twist a fist into the throw pillow beneath you until your fingernails threaten to rip it open.

“Just…fuck,” his pretty face buries itself in the crook of your neck with a whimper as he falters. “Just a little.”

The room is hazy and blurred, filled with sounds neither of you can seem to quiet. Each moan and breath filling your head up until you feel feverish. Every groan and gasp pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

Your bodies meet in a sweat glazed dance that causes your teeth to grit together - biting down hard to suppress a scream that he might confuse with pain.

He tucks his own teeth into your throat deeply, growling out a melodic sound that sets you on fire, when the salt of your skin hits his tongue.

A shaky, “I’m gonna cum, baby love…where, baby, where?” Pants out of him with a desperate urgency the moment he releases your skin from his bite.

“Inside…” you plead, clawing at his waist as your thighs lock him in close. “Cum inside me…c’mon. Please,”

“Pretty girl begging for my cum. Begging me to ruin this beautiful little cunt…” he sounds as if he’s talking to himself, like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re real.

“Ruin it, baby,” your palms drift up his back, slow and steady…urging him along gently. “Ruin me.”

A sound so exquisitely angelic rumbles up out of his chest. Deep and primal, but somehow gentle and submissive, like he wants to fall at your feet in veneration of something holy and ancient.

He falls against you, pulling you as close as he can get you, and then draws the scent of your hair in only to feel that much closer. Rocking into you as he slowly comes down and finds himself.

Gathering you in his arms, he lifts you away from the disheveled couch, ignoring you when you protest weakly that you can walk.

A bath is drawn and laced with plain epsom salt to soothe your throbbing muscles. He slips into the steaming water behind you, cradling you as he drags a washcloth over your skin.

Quiet verses of a song you’ve never heard are whispered in your ear as you drift into a light slumber without worry, confident that he will keep your head safe above water.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @thelvnternskeeper @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn

[themindlessramblingsofamadwoman]

Ruby made the rules of the game

She’d heard stories as a child of people stepping in fairy circles and disappearing to fairyland, to Elfame, to Tir Na Nog. So it was only logical that the doctor would disappear after stepping in one too, sent off to some magical land

The last time Ruby went to wales she ended up in a little pub with live music and drunken local lads who propositioned her endlessly. When she finally made her lack of interest clear after half an hour of tight lipped smiles and polite thank yous to increasingly uncomfortable compliments the boys turned cruel. They mocked her endlessly for being English. They made jokes about the English being soft and about Welsh independence. They smelled like cigarettes and cider and caged her into their little corner booth. The Welsh hated the English those boys said it themselves, so it made perfect sense in Ruby’s mind that locals in this pub would be just as cruel.

When ruby thinks back on the day the doctor disappeared two things stand out with immense clarity the name mad Jack scribbled on a piece of paper and the doctor talking about Roger ap Gwilliam. After seeing his debate on the news it became so clear that they must be connected it couldn’t be a coincidence. So Ruby settled on an objective and new rules for her game

But ruby lost the game the minute Marti Bridges joined the fray. Poor Marti with her big eyes and constantly quivering lips. One thing the doctor and ruby have in common is they don’t sacrifice others to win. The moment that apology slipped from her lips ruby lost the game and had to start over.

When ruby was 11 mindlessly browsing the internet she stumbled across a Buzzfeed article about the top 10 weirdest facts about the human mind. Entry number 7 claimed that in your final moments of brain function before you died your whole life flashed before your eyes. Older now with skin like leather and white wiry hair ruby mused about the idea of being able to change her past in those few moments when she revisited them. So Ruby set the rules once more

And Ruby so desperate to change her past to abandon a boring life of loneliness changed the rules

[mohgreal]

Mr Greal I need to rant about a SOTE thing I was thinking about last night. Fucking. Why not make it so that Mohg and Miquella were collaborating and both had a genuine, shared view of how to change the world? They both want the best for the disenfranchised races of the Lands Between, right? Miquella has the metamorphosing Albinaurics in the Haligtree, Mohg has his little red Mohglets, stuff like that.

Wouldn’t it be interesting if Blood For The Blood God Big Boy Mohg was who Miquella deemed the most kind or worthy or whatever of the demigods? Raaaaagh I’m just so mad how SOTE bulldozed over these two characters and sapped out anything interesting about them.

cw: me being annoying, (long) sote ranting because this fandom hates me for hating but that never stopped me, if you take this seriously its on you sorry . for some reason i get people feel offended by me openly expressing how i feel about some dlc so im still putting this here You Were Warned ....mr greal will add his personal comments .....

tumblr keeps fucking up my keep readinf STOP im sorry

this is my biggest gripe with sote is how boring they made the existing lore. not even 'bad', just very very boring. it's like i got the most boring reddit fanfiction as canon, which sucks because all the new stuff IS interesting. expect now i don't even care because they sucked the interest i had for the lore by doing so. they could've made radahn more interesting by giving him more lore that isn't just "i love war, golden order, and horsey!". they could've gave mohg more lore and depth. they could've made miquella more interesting and a genuinely new and fresh character with hope for once in a game where it's all bleak and misery.

but they didn't. why.

i don't get it and i never will. im convinced they had a different, or possibly worse — multiple teams work on sote because the way the entire dlc is structured, especially the lore and missing elements (no cutscenes for main bosses or black and white art desc) — really screams too many chefs working on one game (dlc). nightreign existing proves my prior theory ive had since sote came out day one

miquella is, to me, the most boring possible route they could've gone. if you believed the charming theory then it was also predictable for like two years so it's not even as shellshocking as the narrative makes it, because the game expects you (in the sense that based off the existing lore you would have the idea that miquella is morally gray) to know this. the issue is that the only real lore really pointing toward miquella being a charm guy is the bewitching branch. two sentences. you're supposed to get that miquella was Bad All Along because of [one] item description. why micheal zaki???? and yes you could say the other item descs hinted at it, but that's all it is, hinting. its vague and you could easily understand it as miquella being the true goodie people in game think he is.

as for the extreme devotion, i don't see how it's supposed to be seen as bad if you didn't know miquella was a charmer when it makes sense for the lands between to cling to the only piece of hope there is. like i would be worshipping him too when he's supposedly the only real kind demigod trying to make a change??? is this just micheal zaki and georgey marty's way of telling us life is miserable and dont trust incestous blondes? ive seen people defend this by saying its a design choice so the player can feel like miquella is good, then get betrayed like his followers so you can feel it too. but this doesn't work because you would have to be attached or at least like miquella which is basically impossible (unless you were a tumblr miquella stan feeding off dust and scraps) since you haven't meet him?? how can i be betrayed by someone whom i haven't even met? miquella is just childish griffith (im sorry to say that name) marika-ranni morally gray "you tried" badge lumped into one and i really miss how interesting he was before his own dlc. not to mention he only shows up piggybacking on his now boyfriend-brother for like one minute; and that's all he gets in his own dlc . if he was at least his own boss instead of lothric-lorian copy pasted but worse i wouldn't be nearly as disappointed

radahn is still boring to me, which he was before as well, his personlity is basically just the modern irl gymbro to me, which is to say i can't see him without his gym (in radahn's case, war or the golden order)

and mohg getting used as a body bag is so unneeded and just feels forced. i didn't even feel sad. the mohgreal (mr greal as called in the ask™️) didn't get sad at mohg being basically used even beyond death. because it didn't need to happen. you could say that's what makes it tragic, but to me it's just a cheap way of forcing radahn back. radahn's soul isn't what makes him powerful, his powers and body is. so just use mohg instead, miquella already had him charmed, did he not?? radahn's soul isn't going to make mohg magically radahn — except oh wait it magically makes mohg radahn all of a sudden even though that's not how it works!!! we literally saw ranni do this exact same thing (just with her own soul) yet radahn is a magic exception??? this is a blatant retcon and people who pretend sote doesn't have retcons feel like they're gaslighting me because this is just one of a few examples of contradicting lore sote gives you. even if you could magically give me a pile of reason to fill the plotholes, it still feels sour because i never needed to do this in the base game

TLDR: sote made me not care about elden ring, and im now back to being a horror addict im sorry. everyone is allowed to rant to me im very bored

[in-sufficientdata]

hjfklahfakl the first time I reblogged this I tagged it thus

x-kit rewritten is my friend but sometimes quick reblog is a little too quick

Pros of re-reading your own fic

a good time;

Has exactly the tropes you like and the characterization you want to read;

Gratification: yes you did finish a thing and yes you did do good;

just a very fun time all around.

Cons of re-reading your own fic:

Is that another TYpO