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its-in-the-woods · 27 days

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Chapter 3 of down the rabbit hole

Chapter one here , two here , four here

MDNI

Pairing: Walton Goggins x You

Rating/warnings? IDK: Will just keep mature okay. Minors get out. Heavy mention of alcohol, blackouts, drunken shenanigans, hints at SA, awkwardness,

Slow build like novel damn length okay, Very Fluffy, Pinch of Angst, Relationship Development, Hurt/Comfort, Older man/ Younger(30s) women, Alternative universe, fictional work (IDK WHY BUT I AM PUTTING IT) Probably more as I go.

Synopsis: Working in film as a make-up artist is hard enough, but then Walton Goggins requests you, well it's way too easy to fall down the rabbit hole.

Note: they are both single, all for fun.

WARNING I do not have this all written out, I do have it plotted out, but it may be a little slower for chapters to come out. Please bear with me. If you know a Beta to edit please send them to me.

Thank you all for the support! This gets cute and flirty. Let me know what you think. ***

The bar is a hole-in-the-wall place, with the fifteen or so crew and four actors the place is packed. It’s laid out with a bar at the front, couches, and comfortable chairs in the back. You find a spot closer to the back, a gin and tonic in hand. Trevor is talking with Decon at the front, the two men are practically making out. You chuckle and sip your drink. Rebecca from Costumes sits beside you, the woman is all fluid grace.

“Hey, how’s it going?” She smiles and sips her drink, short hair with sides buzzed, various botanical tattoos draping down her shoulder. Piercing brown eyes and a soft face that always had a small smile. She was draped in all black, which was of course fitted perfectly.

“It’s going pretty good, nice to get out after a long week.” You reply, watching people mill around the place. You knew almost everyone here, aside from a couple of the extras. Most folks were chatting and drinks were flowing.

“Oh man, it sure has. I am happy they stuck me in the studio for the next week.”

“I will take the studio over driving any day. The city is atrocious to get around on a good day. Add in construction I would rather take the studio regularly.” You reply, having lived here for close to a decade and there was never not construction. You weren’t even sure what the construction was for anymore.

The two of you chit-chat for a while, going over different projects. Discussing a little about the union politics and the fact that the industry was saturated because of the fifteen film schools. It’s nice, even welcomed. You’re now on your third drink and the world is getting a little tipsy. Rebecca has moved over, and Neal from props is talking to you. He was discussing some builds he was looking at doing for a Sci-fi show coming up at the end of the year. You listened intently, you had always loved props and had considered moving to that department at some point.

The night carries on, you are buzzed now. The realization that you are going to need to get an Uber is at the front of your mind. You make your way to the bar in sesrch for some much needed water. When you look over to see Trevor grinning and moving towards you.

“Hey sweety,” He says, words tripping over each other. The man was also as drunk as you are. “Me and Decon are gonna probably share an Uber to his place. Do you want to catch a ride with us?’

His eyes are bright if a little fuzzy, Decon is staring at him with hunger in his face. You can’t blame the man Trevor was fine as hell. If he wasn’t gay as a unicorn, you’d be tempted.

“Umm, I am pretty sure that you both live at the other end of town from me,” You are surprised you can actually remember where Trevor lives, much less that Decon was in the same area.

“Oh. Well,” His face screwed up like he was trying to solve world hunger and not how to get home.

Walton emerges from the groups of people, his face is slightly flushed, but out of all of them, he is probably the least inebriated. He takes in the three of you, you can see the wheels turning.

“What is going on, if you’re arranging a three-way I will have to excuse myself, I hate being a fourth wheel,” The man chuckles at his own joke, Decon looks slightly confused looking between all of you.

You let out a small snort, “No, just figuring out rides home. I live in the opposite direction of these two.” You gesture to the two men who are heavily leaning against each other.

“Nonsense, I will make sure you get home safely,” Walton says looking at both of them. “You two lovebirds go and have a wild night. I will make sure the lady will get home.”

“You sure Mr.Goggins,” Decon asks, he is a good head shorter than Trevor but built thicker with shaggy blonde hair.

“Walton,” He smiles, “Definitely, she will be taken care of.”

“The lady also agrees,” You sigh, leaning slightly against the older man. You can feel how warm he is, it’s hard not to rest against him

“Okay,” Trevor chuckles, “Have fun, don’t do anything I would do. Or. You know do.”

You watch Trevor and Decon stumble out of the bar. Part of you is jealous that they had someone to go home to. You relax and going to find yourself a spot on the couch. A moment later Walton slid in beside you. You’re happy your face is already flushed from the alcohol as his thighs touch yours.

“Hey,” He says in a hushed tone, sipping of what smells faintly of scotch. He hands you a glass of water which you greatly appreciate.

“Hey,” You reply, meeting his gaze. “How are you fairing?”

He smiles and looks around the room, “Honestly, I am kind of over it.”

You giggle looking around at the same time. A few people had left, some people lingered in groups, and a few had divided into pairs. The mood has chilled out a little, the music dropped down a few notches. It’s comfortable and cozy, but that might be liquor.

“It could be worse, we could have to work tomorrow.” You look back at him. The man was now staring at you as if every word you said was important. You fail to hold his gaze, damn liquor was making you melt.

“Mmm but at least I’d get to hang out with you,” He said with a crooked smile gracing his lips. You were pretty positive the man new the effect he had on you.

“Oh stop,” You giggle, shaking your head and taking another sip of water. “I know you enjoy the days off as much as any of us.”

“Suppose I do, it doesn't change the fact I like getting to spend time with you.” The Southern slipping in, making you almost choke on your drink.

You roll your eyes but relax beside him, part of you just wants to lean against his chest and let the alcohol relax your inhibitions. You both talk about traveling, you had spent a few months traveling around the Philippines, Taiwan, and Korea. He talked about being in Japan, and China. Sharing info on some of the favorite foods you had a chance to eat, and how you both looked forward to traveling again in the future. You decide in haze to have a few more drinks, as the two of you continue to chat about the future.

When the bartender calls closing you go to stand and the whole world spins around. You nearly fall over but someone grabs you before it all goes dark.

***

Light is peering around the blinds, and you groan at the splitting headache and nausea filling your already foggy brain. Reaching around you find the side table, a bottle of Tylenol, and a glass of water. You take two tablets and bury yourself under the covers, falling into a restless sleep.

There is more light now, and though your headache is marginally better you still feel like you’ve been run over by a truck. Blinking a few times you realize you’re not in your room. This room is fairly close to the size of the apartment you live in. The walls are basic contractor beige with generic artwork. There is a closet, two side tables, a darkened bathroom, and a chair near the end of the bed where you can see your jacket and purse sitting on it. Your phone is on the side table, plugged in, beside you along with a powerade and glass of water. Swinging yourself out of bed you are grateful to see you are still dressed, sans shoes, socks, and your jacket. Your clothes are uncomfortable but not as if they had been taken off and put back on. You straighten yourself a bit, rubbing your aching forehead. You grab the water and drink most of it. It makes your stomach lurch and for a moment you briefly wonder if the water is going to come back up.

Settled, you quietly walk over to the attached bathroom. You don’t bother turning on the light, already knowing that you look like hell. You grab a face towel and wash what was left of last night's eyeliner and mascara off. Making sure to clean the towel well so that it doesn’t stain. You take out your braids and rub at your sore scalp. Giving yourself a moment on the toilet before washing up and rubbing more cold water on your face. You feel a little more human than when you walk back to the room. That cold stone of anxiety rolls around and you try and push it away. Whoever had brought you here hadn’t done anything. You were currently safe and could catch an Uber home.

Gathering up your things and the bottle of Powerade you slowly open the door. There is the faint sound of music coming from down the hallway. You tiptoe down the way hoping to see a front door to slip out of. At the end of the hallway, the place opened up into a kitchen/living room area. A man was standing in the kitchen singing the song that was playing. The door out was across from the kitchen.

It wasn’t just any man, it was Walton. Hair fluffed up, wearing a pair of christmas pjs, and white cotton top. Singing and dancing around the kitchen. You freeze and wonder if you should go back into the bedroom and throw yourself out the window. Maybe there would be a fire escape, or maybe you’d just let yourself be swallowed up by the pavement instead of facing him. Letting out a small breath you push yourself into the light of the day, feeling completely at a loss. You weren’t going to be able to sneak out, might as well get the awkwardness over with.

“Umm. Hey,” You squeak, placing your things onto a chair at the small dining table.

Walton jumps and turns back to you, his glasses nearly falling off his face,a brief moment of fear is erased by a big smile. “Hey! You’re up. Sorry, did I wake you?” Pushing up his glasses with the back of his wrist.

You shake your head taking a small sip out of your bottle. The smell of bacon and pancakes makes your stomach growl. How you could be both be hungry and hungover should be studied by scientists.

“No, I am usually up early.” You give a weake smile. It was true, even on your days off you were usually up between seven and eight.

“I made breakfast?” He looks so out of place and nervous, pointing to a couple of plates. His usual charisma was replaced with jittery energy. Then again you’d probably be nervous too if one of your drunk co-workers slept at your house.

“That sounds amazing.” You say grabbing both full plates and taking them over to the table. You have no idea what the hell you’re doing, all you wanted to do was leave. At the same time, you were not going to turn him down. The thought of him being disappointed was worse than the awkwardness of staying.

He slips into the seat beside you handing you a fork and knife, placing some maple syrup on the table. Getting up, again, to grab two mugs and the pot of coffee, he whirls around the place grabbing some cream and sugar too.

“Thank you, umm for breakfast,” You say, not really sure how to feel about the whole situation. You had very hazy memory about the rest of your evening at the bar. Most of it was just blank. “How did I end up here?”

Walton’s face falls as he looks at you, “Oh, shit. I should have told you. Probably don’t remember coming here.”

You nod your head, suppressing a smile at how flustered he is.

“I tried to bring you home, but you won’t give me your address or wallet. Kept saying you weren’t bringing home ‘no random man’. Kept trying to convince me to just put you in a cab .”

You laugh at that. “Of course I did.”

“Trevor wasn’t answering so we brought you here. Ahh- I promise nothing happened. I just took off your shoes cause they looked uncomfortable. Plus socks in bed always feel weird.” The jumble of words spilled out as he looked at you for reassurance.

Your hand finds itself resting on top of his wrist. “Thank you, I appreciate you not leaving me at the bar.” It was kind of him, most people would have just dropped you into a cab and be done with it. But of course, Walton would make sure everyone got home safe, the man was gentleman.

Walton looks shocked at the last statement. His hand slips up and takes yours. It feels weirdly natural, his larger hand engulfing yours as he rubs his thumb of your fingers absentmindly.

“Oh no. I would never leave you- at a random spot.” He says quickly adding the last bit as his cheeks go slightly pink. You briefly wonder why he would be so flustered, you wouldn’t have blamed him for just letting you take a cab.

“You're a good man and the food smells amazing.” You smile back, squeezing his hand slightly. It felt so easy just to sit here at the table holding hands.

Both of you dig into the food, and despite still feeling hungover the food hits the spot. Walton explained as best he could the rest of the night. You had apparently also hit Leonard, his driver when the man had held your waist trying to help you into the vehicle.

“I will make sure to apologize to him on Monday.” You make a face. “Probably a good reason for me not to go out so much.”

Walton looks taken aback by this, “Leo will be more than fine. I can guarantee he has dealt with the worst. Plus besides that, you were very much welcome company.”

“Still though.” You shake your head. You grab his plate and stack it before bringing it to the sink.

The habit of putting things into the dishwasher is in full effect. You help him clean up, and it all feels much too easy. You take a sip of water, the headache still lingers and all you really want is a shower and some sleep. Silently you scold yourself for letting the night get away from you. You had never been a bigger drinker to begin with, and letting yourself get black-out drunk was not exactly something you wanted on your resume.

“Thank you for- umm- looking after me. I should really get going.” You say feeling flustered, thinking about the fact that you’d love to just crawl into bed with him. Let him tell you stories of his travels as you drift off to sleep. Maybe you could both have a shower and then-

“Can I drive you home?” Walton wakes you from your daydream. “If you are comfortable with me knowing where you live-”

You blink a few times, trying to get your brains to string a few words together. “Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’ve already done so much for me.”

He shrugs, “It’s really not a big deal. I promise”

Your resolve crumbles, what were you supposed to do to disappoint him and say no? No there was not disappointing this sweet man. You’d do near anything just to see him smile.

***

Walton drives you home, you’re surprised he drives something as utilitarian as a Toyota 4runner. At the same time, who are you to judge, you have been driving the same Honda Accord for almost a decade. You both chat about the city, Walton seems enamored with the mountains, so close to the sea, and tons of places to explore. You talk about your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurants, and Walton recommends a few decent bars. The chatter is easy, it’s always been easy you realize. The pace and flow were as if you had been talking to him for years ike you were old friends.

“That’s me,” You say with a weak smile, the idea of having to go home wasn’t as appealing. Your tiny little studio apartment, with its leaky windows and smoke-smelling hallways. At the same time, you know you can’t stay in the vehicle all weekend.

“So it is,” Walton says, he looks almost as disappointed as you do. “What time should I pick up Monday?”

Taken aback by the question you look at him with your mouth open.

“Your car is still at the studio.” He replies that little mischievous glint in his eye. You wonder if this was his plan all along.

“Oh. Dang-it. It’s alright I will catch a bus.” You say, trying not to be dismissive but also not wanting to bother him. Realistically he probably had better things to do then pick you up.

“No. I insist. I was the one that invited you to the bar.” Walton states a small smile growing as he watches you. You realize that you aren’t going to be able to say no to him, and at the same time, you don’t want to either.

“I will be outside around 6 am if that works?”

His smile widens, making your heart do little backflips, “Sounds good, I will see you then.”

Chapter four

*This was so much fun to write. I am excited to see where things go next! As always likes comments reblogs are greatly appreciated .*

#down the rabbit hole #walton goggins #walton goggins x you #walton goggins x reader #fanfic #Writing #Writer #Au #alternate universe #Fiction #Romance #Idk what to rag #Fluff #domestic fluff

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myrkulitescourge · 8 months

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i'm surprised i haven't seen any text posts yet about the Unsubtle Differences between astarion’s tiefling party/high approval forest scene and the one you get after the goblin party.

there’s something so terribly interesting about how the conversation afterward plays out depending on which variation you pursue.

like, most people have seen the tiefling party version by now. astarion basking in the sunlight the morning after, playing off most of what tav says with relative ease, even when they ask about his scars and he tells them about cazador. his cadence is smooth and composed, his smile almost friendly, even though you know, as the viewer, he’s playing a game of manipulation at this point. the only real crack in his demeanor is if tav notices that cazador’s “poem” was written in infernal, which, understandably, startles him.

but recently i watched the goblin party version of this same scene, and everything reads so differently. unlike at the tiefling party, it’s still the middle of the night when astarion tries to leave, thinking tav is asleep—almost immediately after the act, in fact. when tav does speak to him, he’s visibly nervous, halting and stammering in the middle of lines delivered unflinchingly in the other version of the scene. he gestures broadly and fidgets more while talking, his smile comes and goes. there’s even some of his distinctive high pitched, fake laughter sprinkled throughout the exchange, almost identical to later scenes where he's very, very obviously uncomfortable (like if raphael mocks him and magics off astarion's shirt to show the party his scars in act 2, or when confronting the gur children in their cell in act 3, etc etc).

siding with the goblins represents something deeply familiar to astarion, a level of cruelty he's more than familiar with and embraces likely because cruelty and duplicity, to him, go hand-in-hand with the power and freedom he craves so badly—but he won't stay the night with this tav, even if he approves of their actions. no, in this case, he'll keep to what's familiar and attempt to leave them in the forest under the cover of the very same darkness he resents having been cast into by cazador. when he gets caught, it sets him on edge, and everything he says becomes such a blatant lie to save face that tav would have to be completely oblivious not to see through him, or maybe just not care enough to.

but if tav saves the refugees? challenges his worldview and comes out victorious? oh, he'll complain of the poor rewards for his trouble at the party and whine about it being boring, but he decides to stay with tav through the night while they're asleep and on past dawn. he takes a moment to enjoy the morning sunlight, returned to his life after two centuries without. the same is true if you have high enough approval that he asks before the party, in which case, you've almost certainly hit his biggest approval gains: trusting him and supporting his safety. maybe he doesn't trip over his words when he speaks because, well, maybe this is someone he doesn't have to worry about. someone who's already more than proven themselves a foolish, heroic sort with a bleeding heart or otherwise demonstrated that they're already in his corner. in other words, not a threat—at least not to him.

does any of this make sense. i wanna study this guy under a microscope.

#the text may be the same but the line delivery is so enormously different it HAS to mean something idk! idk!#what he knows best but doesn't quite trust vs what's new but seems almost safe seems like the differentiating factor honestly #at least in whether he decides to leave tav immediately or stay with them till morning #which in turn affects how he feels by the time tav speaks to him #not to rag on the goblin route but man #he seems. well. frantic when he gets caught trying to leave asap.#to the point where listening to him feels... pretty bad imo #i'd love to know if it changes his romance later on because that seems like. well. a rough start #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 meta #sort of idk #long post

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adamsrcnan · 4 days

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confession time. lowkey i don't see what everyone else see's when they describe neil as being like some scary unhinged wild animal in tsc. like to me he's just neil being neil. insufferably blunt and honest, annoyingly snarky and incredibly perceptive to people around him. if anything i think it's more surprising how much more caring he seems. with regards to jean who he claims he can't stand. yet he promises they'll beat the ravens, doesn't say a word after jean trashes their room, is hesitant to leave the hospital room after he confirms riko is dead, asks after jean when jeremy calls kevin late at night, takes all of a couple minutes to decide to put a stop to jean's abuser, was ready to blow off the fbi and make a run for it from the thai restaurant when it seemed like jean wouldn't be able to contain his grief, told wymack he had him, told jean to find his own reasons to not wanna let go of life instead of holding on because he was told he had to, didn't touch jean until he absolutely had to and even then it was to remind him he was worth saving and he should believe it himself. like sure, him putting out a hit is a little unhinged maybe. but i have no doubts he wouldn't have done the same with drake if he'd been able to contact stuart at the time and things did not occur the way they did. again. it's just neil being neil. he's an instigator. and he even said it himself he was great at starting fights knowing he couldn't win them but doing it anyway.

#tho he's unreliable i get it #but i don't think he's wrong #he runs away from kevin after calling him the c word and he gets tossed about like a rag doll by the guy #he's more of an insensitive and blunt diplomat #is that the correct word #he knows how to use his words over his fists is what i'm tryna say #idk idk #maybe i'm misinterpreting what people are saying #neil josten #jean moreau #jeaneil #the sunshine court #tsc #all for the game #aftg

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alienssstufff · 9 months

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the night compel me to draw gemcyt! divorceduo so i did

Bdubs and Etho designs byyy @//chrisrin Snow Quartz design be meeee :3

Stuffs I made up:

-Because of the whole semi-unstable thing, Snow Quartz's voice would sounds like both Etho and Bdubs' voices separately overlapped. Sometimes one voice is stronger than the other depending on how passionate that gem is about [topic]

-Etho (cuz he falls into the quartz category) is renowned for his fighting abilities he's very respected. He is however classified as a rebel as the guy straight up disappeared one day. Centuries later turns out he ran away to pursue his true interest in technological advancements and is famous amongst the rebels for that too.

-Bdubs used to pilot ships. He had a whole crew before they crash landed (same planet Etho had been hiding at) and essentially sent on suicide mission by a higher up. In the delusions that his superiors would one day come back for them, Bdubs made a knack for building in the meantime.

-By some miracle someone out there does respond to their cries for help, but the number to take gems back is limited causing everyone to turn on eachother and Etho also ends up in the mess too.

-.... This was basically an excuse to put the plot of Bdubs' Survival of the Fittest competition so it happens the same way. And their first impressions of each other is through Bdubs nearly shattering Etho forcing him into a truce for escape (like canon their alliance is short-lived they die/are captured) and both of them are bubbled (Etho bc he's wanted, Bdubs bc he's now an accomplice)

-Etho manages to escape wherever they've been containing him and Bdubs goes back to his job as a pilot. Their interactions for many centuries consists of coincidental cat and mouse between them (neither of them win)

-I don't know why I wrote all that um...

#stufffsart #gemcyt #bddoubleo100 #bdoubleo #bdubs #etho #ethoslab #ethubs #divorceduo #life series smp #last life smp #trafficblr #mcytblr #humm bdubs giant cloak in the comic ref to his ghillie suit from SOTF #hc it came with the ship and its genuinely like an invisibility cloak (ragged by age)#idk whats going on with the bg i referenced from a starira Revue number (RE:CREATE the best one)#stufff rambles #for under the cut sjvhb;vk

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lesbian-rook · 8 months

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my favorite new pair of tumblr sillywomen <3

#the amazing digital circus #buttonblossom #pomni x ragatha #tadc pomni #tadc ragatha #this is very much just a sketch and my first time drawing them but i'm honestly vibing with it :D #i think these two are so adorable both together and apart #i have such a crush on ragatha but a lot of people who know me know that rag doll characters are my weakness so not much of a shock there #i'll be honest Ragatha is really like ''oh no this woman is gonna abstract any minute''#shenanigans (and kissing] ensue XD #idk how much of them i'll draw but i had fun!#i do what i want-tober day 26

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florwal · 2 months

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gone fishin’

#doing rags to riches kinda #ss #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 #werewolves save #cuz idk what i’m naming it yet

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jamiethebeeart · 4 months

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Tucker lives in my head often so I wanted to give him some attention with this piece! And I maybe, just a little bit, went overboard (sorry colorists), but I give the gift of letting them decide what to put on Tucker's screen (for @green-with-envy-phandom-event )

#danny phantom #tucker foley #danny phantom fanart #i kept going back and forth on hard lineart for Tucker's waves (the hairstyle) and im still not feeling confident #i figured the mix of old and new tech would be a fun homage to the “ghosts and tech dont mix well but old tech works a little better” idea #if you dont recognize floopy disks or the mice with balls in them.... youre probably too young (go google search)#the logitech mice with the ball embedded in the side?!?!? i still dont know what the purpose really was but they were fun to spiiiiiiin #ANYWAY the waves were important to me bc i think the berets stupid and we know tucker is protective of it so what better way than to #re-envision as a do rag protecting his carefully curated hairstyle?!? idk i just think it fits Tucker's personality #dp jbee #just noticed on my final pass that i mispelled floppy... whoops i made the drafts at like 2am shhh

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finnpeach · 7 months

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all I’m asking is for one of you bitches to write a best selling novel with enough cold/sneeze scenes for it to be horny and sexy to this community but wouldn’t make a vanilla suspicious. oh and i want it to be fantasy and a love triangle thank youuuuuuu

#anyways I’m ab to read the second book of th/rone of glass and there better be a cold scene #like the most whump I got was SPOILERS!!!! SPOILERS SPOILERS GUYS!!! was her throwing up bc she got her period and then when she got her #goddamn body thrown around like a rag doll and chaol said get up ❤️🫶❤️❤️❤️❤️ AAAAH RAAAAGGGHH RAAAH RAHH AHRAAAA BARK BARK BARK #Tbh. I thought cain was a love interest there and then we wasn’t and I’m disappointed #bc CAIN WAS SEXY!!!!!!!!!#and celeana is just like. blonde hair blue eyes whatever and Chaol has “chestnut” hair (whatever the fuck that means). like so they’re #basically the same character idk i hate when book characters aren’t like “light hair dark hair” yknow what I mean #like if chaol had black hair. BARK!#anyway that’s my rant.#so can you guys get to writing please and thank you #Oh yeah I wanna finish my Achilles and Patroclus fic I KNOW!!! I KNOW I ALWAYS SAY THAT!#it’s still there

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stupidrant · 3 months

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i think the most we will get is PC release (if that) this year but that means we gotta deal with those trolls bc changing angrb0da’s skin color is such a big deal to these mfs and i still dont understand that sweet baby inc shit bcuz all the information im seeing is just bundled bullshit LMFAOOO i feel like her actual character gets overshadowed by the made up problems and no one actually talks abt HER as a character or even analyses her fr (outside of here ofc) lol sms abt to make a banger with her and atreus istg

#Truth be told i dont even wanna talk abt this anymore but this topic gets brought up pretty much every week atp #How weird is it that u would only accept her if she were white #Thats literally you admitting you like her character but her being black is a deal breaker #I feel like no matter how much they want her to be a white girl changing her skin wouldnt change their opinion abt her #Theres this one (big) acct in particular thats constantly shitting on rag and its like bro u need to just leave if ur not happy #or take a long ass break and come back at times and then leave again cuz hes just miserable as fuck and yall know exactly who im talking ab #I do see more people getting annoyed with this topic and i dont blame them #its getting super out of hand and dragged out atp #Once again i do not want ppl to like her out of PITY. she deserves a very honest group of fans and if those fans are ppl #That disliked her at first but started to like her later on thats fine as long as its out of being genuine #I cannot wait for her to gain more fans fr but i have to be careful what i wish for bcuz i dont want ppl to become too crazy lol #I might just post smth on that god forsaken reddit as an appreciation post of her or smth idk yet LMFAOOO #I for sure will have to be more brave and visible with my love for her one of these days #also very grateful for that one ragnarok vp. he loves angie for sure #Anyways #Love angie for life #Gow #god of war ragnarok #rant

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gutsybitsies · 1 year

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timeflash au? twenty years later au?

idk what to really label this as but

jason feeling caligula's spear pierce through him and blood pooling around him, and life dripping out of him and he's ready to give up and accept his fate. but then suddenly all the pain stops and he wakes up in a warm bed with a pair of tiny feet up against his face.

its a small blonde girl who's snoring. he hears the sound of dishes clanking and being scrubbed outside the room, and eventually as the fog clears from his mind, a much much older nico comes into the room with wet hands and picks up the girl to cradle in his arms, give a stunned jason a quick kiss on the cheeks, and leave the room to "get bianca ready for breakfast"

breakfast is mcdonald's breakfast sandwiches, ("don't look at me like that jason, it's bianca's special day so she gets to decide" "yeah daddy! i want mcdonalds!"), and jason learns that bianca is turning 3 and enunciating terrifyingly well for a 3 year old.

he's tasked with party preparations and driving bianca's friends who live far away to her birthday sleepover. jason doesn't know how to drive, he died before he took any driving test. jason does his best to go through the motions throughout the day, and everything is terrifying and strange and so so so comforting.

he wakes up the next day and he's still there. bianca is sleeping in a cot next to him and nico's bed, and nico was one snoring this time. jason can't stop staring at him because nico's sudden change from "cute" to "handsome" is confusing him too much. nico is soft and gentle and his intensity has only increased in the coming years, but in a good way. in his teen years he radiated danger and death, but the years mellowed him out and instead he just radiated authority.

nevertheless jason quickly learns that nico is "nice daddy," and so he has to play "rules daddy." if they have greens that bianca doesn't want to finish, if jason isn't there to stop them nico would be tossing it all out in the garbage. if bianca doesnt want to clean up her toys, jason has to stop nico from picking them up for her. everytime bianca so much as sniffles, nico is there with a worried look and a thermometer in hand.

he also learns that technically, bianca is his half sister whose biological mother died in a drunk driving incident (and wow, theres a lot to unpack there), but jupiter saved her and dropped her off in front of jason and nico's doorsteps.

jason learns so much and he's almost getting used to this life when he wakes up again gasping for breath on the floor of the ship, with Caligula's spear pulling out of his body and his blood flowing freely.

he needs to live. he can't just accept his fate like a good roman soldier. who was going to argue with the PTA parents at Bianca's school? who was going to make sure that nico isn't feeding their daughter a diet of dinosaur nuggets and campbell soup?

jason pulls on his power and feels the electricity in his nervous system and body keeping him alive for a precious few seconds as caligula laughs and triumphantly tosses his "body" into the water. the salt continues to shock his system and jason's able cram a full bar of ambrosia into his mouth. it tasted like nico's shitty lasagna. he closes his eyes and hopes, and prays that it works, and the ambrosia is able to stop the bleeding from the major veins and arteries.

he's able to propel his way away from caligula's fleet of ships and collapse onto tempest, finally closing his eyes when he feels he's safe. he thinks he sees the mirage of a smiling nico holding a squirming bianca, the two of them waving at him. i'm coming, jason thinks, as lester quickly performs further first aid on him and stabilizes his condition, i'll be right there with you guys.

#jasico #pjo #jason grace #nico di angelo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #toa #trials of apollo #JASON DOESNT DIE #idk what to label this as bruh #time skip au?#afasdfsadf sorry for ragging on nico so much ahahahah BUT HE'S A BAD COOK OK #and jason loves his shitty lasagna that he tries his best to make

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arsonistshub-a · 8 months

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You know one thing I like about the shera reboot?

Normalizing it's okay to not put the fucking fate of everyone on your personal shoulders

I'm really. So fucking tired of "I have to sacrifice myself for the greater good!! I have to sacrifice my happiness and relationships for the greater good!"

Fuck you non spesific person and game

Lae'zel and shadowheart are going to start the githyanki revolution together. Both are going off riding on a red dragon and they're gonna kick ass before retiring as the queens they are

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 #shadowzel #idk what their ship tag is #THSI IS NO RAG ON THE ARTIST WHO MADE THAT LIL COMIC #IT IS BEAUTIFULLY DONE AND THEYRE GREAT #BUT ALSO GAME LET ME GO WITH LAEZEL FFS AND LET ME HELP HER WITH THE REVOLUTION #I DONT UNDERSTAND THE REASONINF AS TO WHY. I NEED TO STAY BEHIND #Yells into the void #what if we both rode red dragons #and they held hands #(joke)

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everoutoftouch · 2 months

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What was your signature scent in high school? Mine were these:

#nostalgia #perfume #high school #00s #nostalgic #idk what else to tag this. not a poll per se but still #poll #polls #grunge #nightmare before christmas #rag doll #nollie #pac sun #fragrance #reblog with your answer #cologne #idea stolen from Twitter. I just thought it was interesting and wanted to post mine!#does anyone remember these? I think you can still get rag doll #me

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lunarharp · 4 months

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wip thing...

of my bg3 avatar hellebore. i also did some casual nude studies of my 3 characters which i'll put under a cut... rather unlike me after all. (so WARNING for abrupt non-sexual full Artistic nudity lol...,,,,) (< won't be making a habit of this)

they mean the world to me

#bg3 spoilers #?? idk. gith look so..Emaciated. And long. i guess we don't eat on the astral plane :) anyway..well..too much to say.....#it is very very very depressing having to live in the Real World after that final playthrough meant so very much to me.#i normally feel Hope & suchlike after finishing a highly immersive emotional game..but it's too hard this time and it hurtsssss lol yippee #i appreciate bg3 very much for being a place where i could access the concept of nudity & such like in a way that finally felt comfortable.#bodies are inherently non-sexual. they just Are a Fact of Life. this game being NORMAL about nudity from the character creation screen #makes it possible for someone like me to actually have a chance at accessing sensuality in a way that feels comfortable from there.#dont feel like putting it into words further. im ace. just very grateful to this game. even despite the horrors i will never ever forget it #augoh..gugf.. want to go back. my friends & love are in there.....i'm supposed to just move on? in the real world??? THIS place???? UHH????#my characters canonically look like that too!! i see them as intersex and not so much trans. They just look that way.#Diversity win!!! the people who enacted horrors upon you and are trying to kill you again respect your pronouns!!!! <3 #I FAILED HONOUR MODE IN THE STUPIDEST WAY POSSIBLE..ACCIDENTALLY TOUCHED AN ITEM. MY LOVER TOUCHED SOME BLOOD-TOUCHED RAG ITEM @ THE CRECHE #AND MY PEOPLE MASSACRED US... YOU BELOVED PRAT. OF COURSE IT WOULD BE YOU AND IN THIS WAY #grateful for love triangle chaos...INTENSE EX DRAMA... IT HAD MAJOR REPURCUSSIONS THIS TIME...ohh so very much happened ohh my dear #truly don't know how to face the Real World now for real. I Don't Know. something has snapped. ive realised twt just makes me feel sad lol #if something in my spare time isn't at least half as fun as bg3....like.. it's not good enough. god we only have one wild and precious life #being Online makes me feel a loneliness so wretched and painful and horrible i really don't think this is the answer.#Why did you even start drawing in the first place? Why did you start this?#For real..the need to work this out and decide what on earth i'm going to do now has presented itself. Why try to get better..why be online #someone who has an imagination that can keep them so happy and fulfilled...has no business also feeling a loneliness as profound as this.#why was someone THIS introverted and withdrawn and anxious also cursed with such a restlessness?#What are you going to DO now? because hellebore and their lover are fine....... So what about you...?#hellebore..😭😭 AUUGHH!! I JUST WANT TO GO TO MY BED IN THE INN...PLAY ON MY VIOLIN THAT'S WHAT I'D DO!!!! i'd drink some ALE DAMNIT!!!!!#i was rereading My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness- the only time i've seen this level of emotional isolation depicted-and was grateful.#but then i read her latest book and now she has a debilitating substance abuse situation and it's upsetting.#I hope she finds what she was looking for. I hope we all make it. kind of wild that i dont do such major self-sabotage at this point myself #I truly think anyone who manages to find dear friends and achieve fulfillment and happiness with others outside themselves are amazing.#I see it happen from my tower. i hope we all make it. I hope we can make it through everything to come.#Why did i say all this on drawings of my characters naked. ah who even cares any more......

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and-stir-the-stars · 1 year

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another fnaf one-shot (aka my excuse to further traumatize Michael), this time for THE dire consequences au

tw: food horror, descriptions of injury, blood, victim-blaming, vomit

word count: 2,749

Michael stared blankly at the space his little brother had been moments before.

“Evan… you– you remember being alive, don’t you? You know that I can’t… keep doing this, right?”

“Evan, I– I’ll come back. You know I will. I always come back. I won’t leave you ever again, just… please open the doors. Then we can– we can play outside, yeah?”

“That weird sound was, um… it was my– my stomach, Ev. I’m hungry–” The words drowned in a half-muffled sob that Michael couldn’t quite hold back. “I’m r-really hungry, Ev.”

The hunger wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the thirst, though. At one point, Michael’s mouth had gotten so dry that just moving his tongue had felt like razors stabbing the interior of his mouth, and every swallow and shaky inhale had been sandpaper against the lining of his throat. At that point, Michael had finally gotten over himself and drank from the awful-tasting rainwater– what he hoped was rainwater, at least– that leaked into this room from the ceiling.

Michael had been here for… what? Two days? Three? Four? The Afton wasn’t all that sure anymore. He’d had a watch– you needed one when you worked the kind of jobs Michael Afton did– but it had gotten smashed when Evan… when Evan had…

And there weren’t any clocks in the room he was trapped in, either. Or windows.

Michael was limping around the room’s perimeter now, cursing the lack of windows. Michael thumped the hand of his good arm against the walls as he moved, listening for any sound that would indicate a weak point and looking for any cracks or leaks or anything that would suggest he might be able to tear the unusually strong walls down with his bare hands and escape. He didn’t know how long he would have until Evan came back.

“You can’t be hungry, Mikey; we’re playing a game now. Don’t you want to play? Don’t you like playing with me? You said you did. Were you… lying?”

“Fine. I have something we can play that will make us both happy! Just wait, Mikey!”

Michael’s perimeter check proved useless. He didn’t find anything, but deep down, he had already known that he wouldn’t. With nothing left to do but sit at one of the decrepit tables littering the room, Michael shot a despairing look at the heavy steel doors barricading the thresholds. He didn’t know how many nights Michael had spent in the last year with that specific brand of heavy, impenetrable reinforced steel doors keeping the monsters out. Now, instead of keeping the monsters out, those same doors were keeping Michael pinned in like a drowning rat. Michael wanted to laugh at the irony, but all he could do was bury his face in one hand– just one hand because he couldn’t even move his other one, a bitter voice pointed out in the back of his mind– as stuttered breathing rattled in his chest.

Michael flinched, his hand flying away from his face at the sound of something crashing onto the table before him.

“Be right back!” Evan chirped before disappearing again.

Michael rubbed his hands under his eyes to stop his tears in their tracks, making his skin burn at his hasty and overly aggressive administrations. He took a few moments just to breathe, and ignored the oppressive silence ringing in his ears as he forced the corners of his lips upward. His lower lip wobbled dangerously, and Michael sank his upper teeth into the chapped pink flesh to rectify the slipup. The smile felt… stiff, but hopefully it looked real enough.

Michael managed not to jump as much this time when Evan materialized beside him.

Evan dropped something else on the table, something that fell with a sickly, wet-sounding slap. Michael didn’t get a good look at what it was before Evan reached across the table and grabbed something he had dropped off earlier.

“Normally these are set up on the tables here. I hid them, though,” Evan whispered, like he was telling Michael a secret. “I didn’t like looking at them. They made me sad. But this will make it okay, I think.”

Michael’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he didn’t stop Evan as the little kid put the red-striped party hat on Michael’s head. Though, he couldn’t stop himself from wincing when Evan released the elastic string keeping the hat in place with just a little too much force and the elastic band stung against the bottom of Michael’s chin.

Evan picked up a green and blue striped hat for himself. Michael worried for half a second that the hat would phase straight through Evan’s head, but the eight year old put the hat on his head with no problem.

“Wh-what’s all this for, Ev?” Michael’s gaze travelled across the table, taking in the party hats and the brightly colored– and dusty– paper plates and cups. Just seeing the plates was enough to make Michael’s stomach gurgle painfully, and the Afton shot a nervous glance at his brother.

Evan didn’t seem mad, though. If anything, his smile widened. “A party.”

“What kind of– party?” Michael plastered the smile across his face to hide his stutter.

“Guess!”

“I don’t know,” Michael said as Evan handed him a cheap plastic noise maker. “A– A tea party?”

“No, silly. It’s a birthday party.” Evan put a pink plate and cup in front of Michael and grabbed a purple one for himself.

“A… birthday party.” Michael’s mouth went painfully dry as he stared down at the noise maker in his hand.

“Mm-hmm! You’ll like it, Mikey, because you can’t have a birthday party without cake!”

Michael stared at his little brother’s eager smile, absolutely dumbfounded, because… exactly where the hell would Evan have managed to find cake here, in a building that had been completely abandoned for years?

Then Evan reached over and grabbed… something off the table before throwing it onto Michael’s plate with a wet slap. Maybe it was the close proximity, but somehow, the smell didn’t hit Michael until right then. It was awful– like something rotting, musty and sharp– sharp enough to sting Michael’s eyes until they watered.

Michael stared down at the– something– in abject horror. It was slimy, as though covered in mucus, and was growing mold. Most of the mold was a dark, deathly green, but spots of soft white mold grew on it as well, like a sheen of fresh snow or frost. But Michael didn’t notice the worst part until he stared down at his plate in horror for several long moments: the mess on his plate was moving; it writhed as though in pain. The molding mass shifted on the plate, sections of white splattering against the playful pink as though lurching toward him. Maggots, his mind supplied a moment later.

“Evan…”

“You can’t have a birthday without cake.” Evan scooped some of the moldy mess from the table with his hands. “Lucky us, they had some in the kitchen still.”

Michael shuddered as maggots slipped between Evan’s fingers and wiggled on the table between them. As Evan dropped the “cake” onto his own plate, Mike stared at him in stupefied horror. Did Evan really not… see the obvious problem here? Michael would have an easier time believing Evan had picked up a couple of rats that had died in the cupboard years ago than believing the disgusting mess in front of them had ever been cake.

Evan returned Michael’s stare with a pout. “You have to sing.”

“I– sing? What?”

“Happy Birthday!” Evan huffed through his nose. “Duh. What else? You’ll sing it for me, won’t you, Mikey? You’ll sing me Happy Birthday, this time? Please?”

Michael’s lips parted, but the protest died on his tongue.

“Please, Mikey?” Evan whimpered.

Michael’s tongue darted over his chapped lips. Not that it did any good. “O-Of couse I will.”

The pitiful sadness vanished from Evan’s face, replaced with a smile. In the back of his mind, Michael couldn’t help but think the smile on Evan’s face looked just as desperate as the tear-filled frown from moments before. Michael shoved the thought away. Evan deserved every moment of happiness he could get. And this was the least he could do for Evan, wasn’t it? The very least.

“H-Happy birthday to you…” Michael winced as the words cracked upon his dry tongue, but Evan didn’t seem to notice. “Happy birthday to you…”

Evan’s eyes never once left Michael’s face as the older sang. Evan’s lips silently formed the words Michael sang as though savoring every word and basking in the evidence that his older brother was here for him and singing him Happy Birthday, like Mike was the loving brother Evan had always wanted. So… why did watching Evan mouth along the words make Michael feel like a ventriloquist dummy going along with whatever actions and words his puppet master demanded of him?

“Happy birthday, dear Evan; happy birthday to you.”

Evan sniffled.

Wincing, thinking Evan was about to cry, Michael moved to reassure and comfort his little brother. But then Evan smiled up at him.

“See? Th-that wasn’t so bad, was it? My birthday c-could have been this ha-happy the first time around…” Evan rubbed at his eyes with another sniffle, but the smile was still stretched across his face. “Now we can eat the cake.”

Before Michael could even process the six simple words, Evan grabbed a fistful of the maggot-infested mold and shoved it in his mouth.

“Evan!” Michael practically jumped out of his seat in horrified panic. Was Evan trying to make himself sick?! …Could ghosts get sick?

Evan’s smile dipped momentarily. “It’s okay. You kept saying you were hungry; you can eat now.”

Michael’s stomach churned violently as Evan scooped another handful of mold into his mouth. Maybe ghosts couldn't get sick, but he could.

“Ev, I-I can’t eat this,” Michael whispered.

“Why not? It’s my birthday cake. You… you don’t like it?” Evan asked in a small voice. His shoulders hunched up around his ears like Michael had yelled at him.

Michael’s resolve crumbled as Evan stared up at him, his light green eyes shining with tears. “It’s… not like that…”

“I don’t understand,” Evan whimpered. “I thought you wanted me to be happy. You kept complaining that you were hungry and ruining our games. But now you won’t eat? Why? Because now I want you to? Do you hate me that much?”

Michael’s fingernails dug into the tender skin along his palm, and the Afton focused desperately on the sharp pain to ground himself. “I-I’m sorry, Evan, I am. But you don’t– I can’t–”

Evan trembled as he looked up at Michael. Not an ounce of understanding passed Evan’s features, only a confusion and hurt so profound that Michael couldn’t bring himself to keep protesting.

Michael swallowed hard, dutifully ignoring the painful lump in his throat that he couldn’t quite get rid of. Dark brown locks of hair fell over his face as he glanced down at the putrified lump of mold before him. His hair obscured his view of the revolting mess slightly, but that didn’t stop acid from burning at the base of Michael’s throat at the mere thought of touching that thing, let alone putting it inside of him.

His gaze darted across the table, half-heartedly looking for any silverware– really, he just didn’t want to look at Evan or the horrifying sludge right in front him– but came up empty. Looked like Evan had forgotten to grab any in his excitement for his ‘birthday.’

Shuddering, Michael pulled his hand away from his lap and inched closer to the plate. He determinedly did not look as he grabbed some–

Ohmygod ohmygod ohmy–

Michael had done a lot of gross and deranged things in his life– he had been a teenage boy for a long time, after all– but no amount of eating worms on a dare or putting salt on slugs or skinning and gutting things while hunting with his friends could have ever prepared him for the disturbingly moist feeling of mold on his skin, the squish as his fingers closed around the mold, the way the dampness clung to his fingers like old syrup on the side of a bottle, or the itch of maggots wiggling against his skin and slipping between his fingers, or for that godawful smell. The vomit rose from the bottom of his throat and filled his mouth. Michael felt dizzy as he held the vomit in his mouth long enough to raise his fingers to his lips and pretend to eat the filth. Hoping Evan wouldn’t notice, Michael dropped the mess back onto the plate as quickly as possible and swallowed his own vomit back down, wincing at the acid searing his mouth and throat.

“Mmmm…”

Michael hummed in ‘delight,’ hoping against hope that Evan wasn’t paying enough attention to notice what he had done, or the disgust still written plainly across his features.

Michael should have known better.

The despair on Evan’s face gave way to anger as he glared between Michael and the pink plate. “You can’t do that! You have to actually eat it or it won’t mean anything, Mikey!” Evan launched up from his seat so fast, his chair went flying behind him with a loud crash. “Why are you doing this?!”

The whites of Evan’s eyes began to glow, and Michael’s eyes widened in fear. “Evan, wait–”

“I thought we were having fun– I thought you came here because you wanted to be with me– why do you keep RUINING EVERYTHING, MIKEY?!”

Electricity fritzed through the room with enough intensity to make Michael’s nerves tingle and his hairs stand on end. Michael didn’t have enough time to react before Evan screamed, and Michael’s throat tightened under a bruising force as though someone had their hands wrapped around his windpipe.

Eyes widening, Michael frantically tore at the space around his throat– even his broken arm jerked upward in his panic, making the Afton’s vision go red as pain exploded through his nerves at the jerk of his twisted appendage. As much as Michael struggled against the force choking him, though, there was nothing physically there for Michael to rip off. He could do nothing but wheeze as he clawed at his own throat fiercely enough to draw blood. Tears leaked down his face and, far too quickly, the pressure in his chest from his lungs begging for air increased and increased until the pain in his chest overcame the tight squeezing around his throat.

Then, just as Michael’s vision began to darken, the pressure around his throat ceased. Michael gulped down oxygen, practically clawing it out of the air, but each breath burned his tortured throat and led Michael into a coughing fit that hurt his throat and chest worse than being choked almost to unconsciousness.

It took Michael an embarrassingly long time to realize he was sobbing as his good hand hovered protectively around his throat, as though he could do a single thing to stop that awful pain from happening again.

Michael blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision without using his hand to wipe away the tears.

Evan was still glaring at him. Hands clenched, lip wobbling, tears streaming down his face.

“I d-don’t hate you,” Michael cried. He wished he wasn’t openly sobbing, but he had better things to waste his frighteningly limited energy on than keeping his eyes dry– like keeping his head up so he didn’t face-plant from exhaustion and pain directly into his plate of ‘cake.’

“I n-never h-hated you, and I– I shouldn’t have— I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Michael flinched as two small arms looped around his neck. He almost shoved Evan away out of instinct, but belatedly, he realized Evan wasn't trying to hurt him anymore. It was just a hug. Evan, the little brother Michael had missed so much for so long, the little brother Michael was fucking terrified of, wrapping him in a hug.

"I didn't want to do that," Evan whispered. "I wish you would stop making me so mad."

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Evan…"

"It's okay," Evan said softly. "Just eat your cake, now, Mikey. Cake makes everything better."

He had to maneuver his arm so it wasn't pinned under Evan’s hug– and bite back a whimper as the movement jostled his broken arm– but Michael reached for the plate again without any thoughts of complaint.

@dire-kumori @catwithacupofcoffee

#wow all it takes is not being allowed to eat or sleep for three (four?) days and being terrified of his brother hurting him #to turn Michael into a wet rag of a man‚ huh?#he's sooooo pathetic in this one guys #damn evan‚ victim-blame much??#mmmm. yet again ending a fnaf fic with evan ''innocently'' hugging michael but causing him extreme emotional #and physical pain without even knowing. if it ain't broken don't fix it ig.#also my thoughts on the One Line that's out of nowhere in this fic #is that maybe mikey used to go hunting with his friends occasionally and once he finds out what william is #he is horrified that maybe hunting was a sign that he's the exact same sadist #also i feel like hunting was probably a big part of the culture in the 80s. idk I'm not an 80s expert.#tw victim blaming #tw vomit #tw food horror #tw rotting food #tw injury #michael afton #evan afton #the crying child #ghost crying child #ghost evan afton #dire consequences au #fnaf #fnaf fic #the afton family #fnaf au #if you see any grammar or spelling mistakes in this then no you don't #kats scribbles

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