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pareidoliaonthemove · 6 months

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Down by the Lake

It was a rare opportunity for Grant and Sally Tracy to spend some time with just one of their grandsons. With his mother still exhausted with a new-born baby, his father at work, and his three eldest brothers safely at school and playgroup, they had taken the opportunity to take Gordon into town – starting with the large park, hoping to let the boy run down some of the seemingly endless energy he possessed.

After all, the worst Gordon could do was get a little damp and dirty, right?

Neither of them worried unduly when Gordon immediately raced to the edge of the ‘lake’, screaming “Fishies!” The boy had promised – promised – that he would stay out of the water this time, not that it really mattered, it was a warm spring day, and Gordon could swim like the fish that so enraptured him.

So it was without any urgency that they followed him down towards the water’s edge, enjoying the day, and each other’s company.

Grant was distracted by an old acquaintance, and stopped to talk, while Sally continued on towards where her grandson was squatting by a large patch of reeds, looking for the fish.

She was unprepared for Gordon to suddenly scream, and start running back towards her.

Pursued by a very large, very angry goose. A hissing, and spitting, and flapping goose.

As her grandson ran past her breathless with terror and tears running down his face, Sally stepped forward, and without thinking, grabbed …

… and suddenly found herself holding an enraged goose by the neck, as it flapped its wings at her furiously, and tried to bite at her arms and fingers.

The men had heard the commotion and came running, skidding to a stop a distance away, and staring in disbelief.

“What the h…!” Grant only just managed to stop himself from cursing in front of his grandson.

“It was attacking Gordon!” Sally said, grimly.

Grant looked towards the long reeds, “Must have gotten too close to a nest in that lot.” He turned back to his wife and chuckled, “Are you going to let it go?”

Sally stared at him. “If I let it go, it’ll attack me! You’re the farmer, you deal with the animal!”

Grant threw his hands up in mock despair. “Fine. Give it here, Sal.”

Sally happily let her husband get a good grip on the bird and released hers, and watched from a safe distance – with her grandson hiding behind her legs – as he all but dragged the bird back to the water’s edge, before kneeling down and awkwardly lifting the goose’s body up. Standing side on to the water’s edge, Grant began rocking the animal back and forth, before with a heave, throwing the animal as far as he could towards the centre of the lake.

The goose recovered quickly, and flew to a gentle-ish landing on the water, before swimming rapidly for the safety of the reeds, all the while honking loudly and indignantly at the man standing resolute on the water’s edge.

Grant stood for a few minutes after the goose had disappeared, waiting to see if the bird would make a reappearance. Eventually he took a couple of steps backwards, before turning to make his way back to his family.

“Well, that was exciting, wasn’t it?” he smiled cheerfully at Gordon. “You know what, after that adventure, I think we all deserve ice cream, don’t you?”

As Gordon shouted happily, and shot off in the direction of the general store where the he knew his grandfather brought his favourite ice creams. This time Grant and Sally hurried after him.

After all, there was no telling what trouble he could find.

Notes:

I was recently reminded of a story of my grandparent’s antics when a goose tried attacking my younger sister in a public park (many, many years ago).

The goose never stood a chance. Not when Grandma was there.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

#fanfiction #my fanfic #thunderbirds are go #sally tracy #gordon tracy #grant tracy #it's a lovely day and you are a horrible goose

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stonecoldsilly · 2 years

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can’t believe we’re gonna get ally beardsley turning into a horrible little goose and honking at people

#it’s a lovely day in the dome…#and you are a horrible goose #I don’t mean ally’s character I mean they can just do that #they’re chaotic enough they didn’t need this power #dimension 20 #neverafter #d20 neverafter #ally beardsley

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atdutiesend · 1 year

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{ @grumpyascianteddybear con't from [x] }

Stumbles over to him on a daze after drinking the poison meant for the Saltana. "I am still technically standing. Let's go to that party."

"Guess I'm on babysitting duty." Grim wrapped an arm around her protectively. "... Unless, do you mind going absolutely dramatic as fuck?" He grinned, moving to scoop her up into a classic princess carry.

#isekaiposting #grumpyascianteddybear #imperial jade in a crown of stars; hadianna #a geode in full bloom; jade garden ship #{ grim has entered HORRIBLE GOOSE mode #as in today is a lovely day and you are a HORRIBLE GOOSE }

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thatboxylady · 2 years

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megatron is delighted at jetstorm being such a shitlord bastard because silverbolt would have HAAAATED it, but it doesn't last because jetstorm called megatron daddy ***once*** and now megatron craves death

AUYVSIGUHOSAIJPOKSAUFASYIGUOHSAI STOP

#beast machines #jetstorm became the new inferno with all the nicknames he has for the boss but Megatron honest to god misses Inferno #at least being called QUEEN was anticipated #jetstorm waltzes into his life and for the most part is well behaved but he throws out Daddy ONCE and Megatron nearly dies on the spot #he wishes he could file an insurance claim for the emotional damage and sheer goddamn whiplash BUT he stole the insurance agents' sparks #it is a lovely day on cybertron and you are a horrible blue jet-goose-man with ADHD and zero appreciation for spoken language #meanwhile THRUST gets called ''daddy'' and HOOOOOO BOY that's a whole different story

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goblinsfavoriterock · 10 months

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“Gender identity? No I said gander entity. Yeah you got to watch out for it or else you could-“

Gets squished by a giant webbed foot.

#nonbinary #what’s in your pants? a goose #it’s a lovely day in gender and you are a horrible goose

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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Three for One 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Let's go!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Two days before Christmas. The store is left in tatters. Shelves strewn with sparse lefftovers and aisles hastily paced by those who left their shopping a bit too late. The frantic shoppers searching for a diamond among the sand grains of untouched product.

You work at arranging the remnants of the season’s beauty advent calendars on a table draped in a bright red cloth. There’s a large tag in a metal stand that marks them as ten percent off. On the other side of the holidays, they will drop to a full eighty percent off. You always believed giftcards were a better prize, not that you got many gifts.

That year, Luanne gave you a new journal and a specialty hot chocolate bomb in the department’s secret santa. You go Michelle and gifted her a copy of your favourite novel and some nail polishes. That is the extent of your shopping and gift exchanges. Except for your puppy, Ernie, who will get a bone and one of those special gourmet dog meals.

You finish your arrangement and step back, admiring your work. It’s close to close and so close to the end of the race that the shop isn’t as busy as usual. The only customers you do see are in a rush and horribly disappointed when that very specific thing isn’t in stock.

“Excuse me,” you’re drawn around the deep voice. A man strolls up the center aisle of the beauty section, the tails of his coat flicking behind him, “hi,” he uses your name as he approaches, “I’m so sorry to bother you again but can you point me to, erm,” he looks down at his phone, “a ring light?”

You hesitate. He seems to know you and you admit, he looks familiar. You’re at that point where the faces all blur together. Your one innate flaw is that you really don’t have a good memory for that, bt you definitely recognise his voice.

“Hello, sir,” you fall short of his name. You want to say Alan but you also don’t want to be wrong. “The ring lights are actually with the cellphone.” You gesture back at electronics, “I know it makes more sense to put them with cameras.”

“Ah, oh, thanks,” he nods but doesn’t move to find his quarry, he lowers his phone, “how’s your holiday going? Thing’s slowing down,” he looks around and you can’t help but do the same.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, most people are all done,” you shrug.

“Ha, wish I could say the same,” he sighs, “I thought we were done but the wife just sent me on a wild goose chase.”

“Hm, oh, well, I’m not very busy, did you need help finding anything else?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my manager’s done for the day so doesn’t really matter if I leave my zone,” you say, “kinda boring around here.”

“You’re too sweet,” he smiles, his blue eyes deep and swirling, “and that sweater is adorable.”

You look down at your dark blue sweater with the white crochet peter pan collar. You wiggle your shoulders and grin back at him, thanking him. You know he bought some perfume for his wife but you’re still blanking on his name.

“Here’s my list,” he tilts his phone towards you and looks down, shifting closer to you as he shows you a text bubble.

“Oh my, right. I’m not sure we’ll have everything,” you teethe your lip as you go through the items, “but we’ll see.”

A message pops up over the top and you try not to read, putting your head up as you try to act like you didn’t see it. It’s not that you meant to decipher the words but your brain quickly skimmed that ‘tomorrow night?’ Not much but just feels a bit personal.

“Alright, we’ll go to electronics first, then work our way forward,” you suggest.

“Good idea,” he agrees.

You set off and he follows at just a step. You have to remember to slow down as often you’re so determined you find yourself leaving your customers far behind you. You bring him to the mobile accessories and point to the ring lights.

He considers them and rubs his chin. He points between two; “what’s the difference?”

“Oh, this one comes with a tripod extension and this one is a full kit with a mic,” you point from one to the other.

“What do you think is better for, uh, streaming?” He sounds unsure of that last word.

“I think that kit would have more to it, especially if whoever it’s for is just starting out. But I’m don’t know too much about these things.”

“I’ll take the kit,” he scoops it off the shelf, “the kid can never have enough.”

“Oh? You have kids?”

“One,” he sounds less than excited, “teenager now so he really can’t stand me.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” he forces away the shadow across his features, “you know how they can be. What about you? You going to see your parents? Spending the day with someone special?”

“Um, just Ernie,” you answer, “my puppy.”

“Cute,” he remarks, “are you guys open tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, yeah, ‘til five,” you try to remember the next thing on his list.

He seems less concerned with the items than before, instead turn to examine a pop socket, “you have to work on Christmas Eve?”

“Yeah, closing, but I don’t mind.”

“What’s this?” He holds up a pop socket.

“It goes on your phone,” you pull out your phone and show him your daisy one, “see?” You hook your fingers around it, “it’s a grip to help you hold on.”

“Ah, makes sense,” he turns the thin package over, “kid’s always breaking his screen…”

You wait patiently as he makes up the mind to add the grip to his haul.

“What’s next?” You prompt as gently as you can.

“Oh, uh,” he looks at his phone, “video games…” he squints, “V-bucks?”

“Ah, yes, that would be a gift card,” you say, “I can show you the rack.”

He lets you lead him to the large rack of subscription cards. You point out the various currency amounts available and he rubs his brow. His forehead lines as you see the stress needling in his cheek. He’s struck with the late shopper syndrome. He’s start to feel the crush of time.

“So, just your dog?” He wonders as he picks up a $75 card.

“Yeah,” you answer softly.

“No boyfriend? Siblings?”

“Just me,” you assure him, “I don’t mind. I get to choose the dessert!”

He chuckles, “that’s a good way to look at it. Did you buy yourself something special?”

“Not really, I’ve been saving for a vacation so I put most of my overtime into that,” you explain. “You having a big dinner?”

“Last minute change, wife’s parents want to host. Had to figure out travel plans.” He looks at the giftcards again and your eyes fall to the large back curled up in his arm and the card and phone grip balanced between his fingers. He slides free a Netflix card and reads the fine print.

“Do you want a basket, sir?” You offer.

“Oh, well, sure,” he accepts as he looks down, “that’s very considerate.”

“Don’t want you to drop anything,” you smile and turn on your heel.

You go to the stack of rolling baskets beside the electronics desk. Tyler doesn’t acknowledge you as he sorts through game shells to put back on the shelf. You pull the basket behind you, rattling on its wheels as you approach the shopper by the gift cards.

“Here,” you veer it around towards him.

He bends to lower the ringlight inside and drops the smaller items into next to it; he adds the Netflix subscription along with it and holds onto the Kindle card in his hand.

“You got any of these around?” He holds up the card, “the reader?”

“Hmm, we should,” you rub your neck, “I suppose if we didn’t, you can get a tablet and download the app.”

“I guess,” he nods, “can you check?”

“Of course, sir.”

You turn away and call over your headset. Regan tells you there’s a kindle up in return they can sell. You ask them to put it aside.

“There’s one left at checkout. They’re going to have it waiting for you,” you announce proudly.

“That’s great. You like to read?” He asks.

“Oh, sure, my one vice is my book addiction,” you giggle, “how about you?”

“Well, I don’t get much of a chance with work. I’m usually burnt out from all the legal documents,” he drones grimly, “then the kid has extracurriculars or there’s a PTA meeting or the wife needs something done.”

“Sounds busy,” you say empathetically, “I hope you get some time to relax this holiday.”

“Me too,” he agrees. “I almost envy you. I’m sure your dog’s good company.”

“He’s so sweet,” you can’t help but beam at the mention of your boy.

“Big cuddler?” He asks.

“Uh, yeah,” the question is a bit unexpected, “you like dogs?”

“Never really had one. Don’t need the extra work,” he says, “but I don’t mind them.”

“That’s fair. He can be a bit needy.”

He flinches and looks down at his hand. His screen flashes and he gives an apologetic look as he raises his palm, “I’m so sorry. I need to take this.”

“Take your time, sir, I’ll wander,” you point over your shoulder with your thumb.

He mouths a thanks before he answers, “Barber.”

You back up and turn to distract yourself with the shelf of controllers and switch cases. His deep voice carries but you focus on the Sinatra carol playing overhead to drown him out. Still you can’t help but catch a few words.

“Five, yeah…no, she won’t…it’s fine…” He’s quiet for a moment before he raises his voice, “figure it out.”

His stern tone sends a chill through you. It’s a sharp contrast to his previously friendly demeanour. Well, he mentioned he’s a lawyer, you assume he has a lawyer voice, akin to your customer service one.

“Sorry,” he comes back to you, “my wife…” he takes a breath, “you don’t happen to sell wine here?”

You smile. The way he answered, it didn’t sound very affectionate but maybe he hadn’t expected his wife.

“No, sorry, sir.”

“Kidding,” he chuckles, “well, I guess I should get my butt in gear,” he flicks through his phone, “um, I assume toiletries? Face masks?”

“Oh, that’s near me,” you point back towards beauty, “there’s a special for the sheet masks.”

“Great,” he grabs the extended handle of the basket, “thanks so much for this. I’m so lost.”

“That’s fine,” you go ahead of him, “it’s the job.”

🎀

You groan as you put the last empty bin in the stack. You stand and rub your shoulders, traps sore from all the lifting and moving. The night crew will set up for the day after Christmas but in the last hour of work, you and the few others in the store scrambled to get the old displays torn down.

Luanne walks with you to the employee break room. She’s in more of a hurry as she has her three children waiting for her at their grandparents. She goes ahead of you and punches out as you wait and stretch out your arms.

“Have a good Christmas,” she says breathily as she opens her locker and pulls out her purse and jacket, folding the latter over her arm, “I’ll see you after. You’re opening, right?”

“Sure thing,” you say as you punch in your employee number. “Merry Christmas.”

“Give Ernie some pets for me,” she trills as she goes to the door. “Thanks again. You saved my ass today.”

“No problem, “ you shake your head, “Christmas Eve brings out the best.”

“Does it ever. Bye, sweetie,” she waves over her shoulder as he sweeps through the door.

You go to your locket and take out your fluffy pink sherpa coat and purse. You loop your scarf around your neck and slip your earmuffs around your head. You sit to pull on your boots and stand with an ache in your calves. You feel the fatigue finally setting in. It’s not over yet; one day off and you’re right back to the furor.

You yawn as you leave the breakroom and drag your feet across the store. You take out your phone as you pop your earbuds in and choose your holiday mix. You wave goodbye to a few other stragglers and go out the front door, Spencer locking it behind you.

It’s bitterly cold out. You’re surprised by the fresh fall of snow swirling in the air. It gives an extra sparkle to the time of year.

You scroll through your phone. The buses are on holiday hours already. The next one is in an hour. Great. You can just walk, at least until you get to the next stop. More buses stop there and you can get at least ten minutes within your building.

You trod along, kicking through the powder of snow as headlights gleam ahead of you. You walk along the narrow walk beside the hotel on the other side of the intersection and a pair of flashing tail lights blink ahead of you. A dark figure stands beside the white SUV but you can’t make out much more than their silhouette.

You keep going, peeking up curiously as you near. The boot of the car pops up and the stranded driver searches. As you pass, you trip over an unseen shape, the metal clank painfully against your toe. You look down at the small foot jack.

“Oh, shoot, sorry,” the man stands straight and turns to you, “I didn’t see you coming. I was just grabbing the iron–”

“That’s okay,” you pick out your earbuds, “I wasn’t looking.”

“Wait,” he stops short and points a gloved finger in your direction, “it’s you. You work at the store just down the way, right?”

You know the man. He’s the one who was in the store just yesterday. There’s a flutter in your chest at the coincidence of your encounter. It happens, especially in the shopping district. Half the city at least passes through her during the holidays.

“Yeah, uh, that’s me. You finish your shopping?”

“Just about,” he tuts and shakes his head, “blew a tire. So, happy holidays to me.”

“I’m so sorry,” you look down at the snowy walk.

“Mhmm,” he grumbles, “all this snow, I can’t get the jack to work either.”

“Dang, unfortunately, I’m not help. I don’t know much about cars.”

“That’s fine, I called roadside assistance but they’re taking their damn time,” he checks his watch.

“Oh…” you utter.

“Don’t let me rain on your holiday, honey,” he says, “your toe okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” you look down.

“Wait, are you walking home?” He asks.

You nod.

“Wish I could offer you a ride. This weather’s only getting worse,” he bemoans. He slips his hand into his jacket and pulls out his phone, “they should be here shortly so if–”

A set of headlights pull onto the apron and roll towards you. You look over as the man beside you does the same. You stand, somewhat dumbfounded at the unexpected run-in.

“That’s them,” he declares, “hey, guys.”

He waves as the white van pulls up. You were expecting a tow truck. Oh, well. Not your problem.

“Great, I guess I should get going,” you excuse yourself, “have a happy holi–”

As you step back, your heel catches on something. You don’t realise until your plummeting onto your ass that the man stuck his leg out behind you. You hit the ground with an oomph, barely missing the metal jack half-buried in the snow.

You hear the van door sliding open and a clatter of heavy treads. You can barely catch your breath as the world moves fast around you. The man bends over you as another rushes over, grabbing you off the ground as the two vehicles block out the street from view.

“Be nice,” the first man warns as your arms are seized. “Don’t hurt her.”

You suck in a deep breath. What is happening? You go to let out the shriek as you’re struck by the situation. This can’t be real but you’re being half-carried towards an open vehicle. A hand comes up and stifles your scream, smothering you as you’re yanked harshly forward.

“Careful,” the man girds again.

“Shut the fuck up,” the other grits and pulls you away from the other, spinning you around as he hooks an arm around your neck and covers your mouth, forcing you towards the van. He bends backwards, lifting your feet as you kick and squirm.

“Honey, calm down,” the friendly customer coaxes, “it’s okay.”

You don’t understand. Why are they doing this? Why you?

The man’s hand slips as you grab at his arms and your teeth come over the vee between thumb and index. You bite down and he yowls. Even through his leather glove, you give him a viscous pinch.

“Fuck!” He tosses you forward so your knees hit the side of the van and fall half-inside.

“Hurry the fuck up,” another voice calls from inside the van.

“Trying,” the second man snarls as you stand and let out a shrill note, only for a second before you’re caught from behind and muted again. This time the leather glove seals over your nose. “Fucking bitch.”

You’re lifted into the van, writhing and kicking as the door slides shut from the outside. You’re pinned on the floor in the seatless rear of the vehicle. You whimper as your eyes glisten with a sudden spring of tears.

That question rings in your head again; why you? You have no one to look for you, no one to care. It’s only you against them.

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dr-aegon · 2 months

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🪿goosesona time!

be the goose menace you want to see in the world 😌

this is mine! 😊✨

no pressure tags, besties 💕 : @very-straight-blog @zaldritzosrose @troublesomesnitch @snowblack-charcoalwhite @barbieaemond @bouncehousedemons @huramuna @wolfdressedinlace @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @inthedayswhenlandswerefew @wynfylleth @st-eve-barnes @bucknastysbabe @targaryenbarbie @sunfyre-targaryen @liv-cole @jennathearcher @youraverageaemondsimp @heretherebebookdragons

#tag games #picrew #picrew game

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ithinkimightbeagoose · 4 months

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picrew chain!! goosesona time!!

you should totally do this and tag people! here's mine to start:

/nf tags!

@dazed-moth @peckforlovingheck @sssebastion @fionacle @alex-supremacy4 @call-me-frosting-or-not-idc

#picrew game #ithinkimightbeagoose #untitled goose game #:3 #saw everyone doing this so i decided to do one!

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ghouljams · 27 days

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I come bearing an angsty thought at this late hour! (Because it's like 2am here but I feel the need to share my sad with someone and you're my unwilling sacrifice of the day)

Anyway, I was thinking about how since Simon has experience as a butcher before he joined the service, in his cowboy era he would probably be more than happy to volunteer for butchering duty when someone brings something back from a hunt or one of the animals is slaughtered for dinner. So, it's the first time he's doing it since joining Price on the farm, probably has Goose chatting with him as he works since she's not squeamish when it comes to skinning an animal, and everything is going well.

But then, Simon goes to hang some of the meat up on a meat hook and it's like everything comes to a screeching halt. His whole body locks up, and although he logically knows that he's not in any danger and he's done this hundreds of times before, he hasn't touched a meat hook since Roba... The hook is swaying slightly in the wind, and it looks so, so sharp, and just thinking about how easily it can tear through skin and muscle-

Goose probably needs to go get Price, because Simon is not okay.

Oooh, I love hurting the boy. Early-ish days, the first time Ghost needed to butcher anything at the farm.

"Usually we send bucks to the butcher," you tell him, "but we've got set-up for dressings at least."

"Field dressed it, just need a clean space and some decent knives," Ghost supplies, hauling the buck out of the truck bed and over his shoulder. He doesn't need to, could always pull the truck around properly, but he likes the way your eyes follow the flex of his muscles. It's not a far walk, and he can shoulder 200 pounds easy.

You're all sweet smiles and laughter, asking for the worst deer blind jokes of the day; Ghost doesn't know how you can be so... yourself. You pull the cellar doors open, easing each one to the ground and giving Ghost the heads up to watch his height on the way down. Ghost keeps his eyes on the steps, careful to keep the buck from scraping the low clearance as you click on the lights. He glances around the old storm cellar when he gets his feet on the dirt. It's cool, good for storage, there are already cans lining the shelves along the walls. There's a table in the middle, butcher block. Ghost smiles to himself.

"Whose kit?" He asks, dropping the deer on the table.

"My uncle's," You toss it over your shoulder, moving towards the back, "he was the butcher of the family, Daddy's a good hunter but he sure as shit ain't cutting into that with anything stronger than a steak knife."

Ghost chuckles, tugging his own hunting knife from his belt. "Not for everyone," He calls back, "but better than 'aving someone else take the best pieces."

"Says the man giving away backstraps," You grumble. Ghost shakes his head, he hopes you never let that go. Sweet thing. Some day he'd work up the nerve to propose, find some reason to give you that was better than just himself.

"I'm not 'earing you complain about that, am I?" He jokes, glancing back over his shoulder, watches you give a sharp tug at a ceiling beam and rip down a hook. It hangs in the air, curving its horrible point back towards the heavy chain that holds it in place, the metal black with dried blood. Ghost's breath catches in his chest, his vision narrowing onto a singular point.

"Get away from that," Ghost tells you, his voice short, his eyes darting over the metal. You say something a thousand miles away, and wrap your hand around the hook. Ghost's breath bursts out of him like a gag, heaving out of his chest, his ribs throbbing with the memory of hanging. It's like he can't get enough air it, it all comes out too quickly, and the whole room smells like iron. Iron and dirt. You hold your hand over the point, speaking again, gibberish, garbled nonsense, your accent is too close to a memory he wants to scrub himself clean of. It's when you press your fingers against the mean edge of the hook that he really finds it in himself to move.

He's too sure that you're going to spear yourself, that your stigmata might mirror his own, holes punched in your body from the same terrible instrument.

Ghost's hand grabs your arm and rips you away from the meat hook, his breath coming fast and wild. He can see it, he can see the way it would happen, he can feel the blood under his nails. The process of being lifted like meat onto the hook, the blinding pain of the sharp tip piercing through layers of fat and muscle, the curve of it forcing its way through his body and around his ribs. He can still feel the metal under his hands, the links of chain that he tried to pull himself off of. He can feel each slippery, blood soaked, attempt to free himself.

He can see the way he'd lift you onto the hook, can feel the weight of you under his hand, the way you struggle against his bruising grip, the thump of your hand against his chest. He could add another scar to your body, inflict it on you himself, you could match, you could hate him, you could know, and he could save you the way he couldn't save himself. He could hurt you. Does he want to hurt you? Why does he want to hurt you? He doesn't. He does. He doesn't. He's-

You grab either side of his face and drag him to look at you. Ghost feels like his eyes might vibrate out of his skull, his vision blurring, aching with the lack of focus as it darts to and fro. "What has five toes and isn't your foot?" You ask him.

Ghost's brain grinds to a halt. What? What are you asking him? What does that have to do with-

"My foot," You finish, giving him a little shake. Something bursts out of Ghost that isn't pain or shock. He barks out a laugh, the tension in his muscles squeezing it out of him. It bubbles up from his chest and boils over, his body shaking with the release of it. His breath is quick still, something tightening in his core that doubles him over and forces his hands onto his knees as his laughter gives way to shaking sobs. There are no tears, he can't feel any tears, can't feel much of anything.

He can hear his heart racing, his blood rushing in his ears, as he stares at the dirt floor. No blood, no wounds, no bodies. He grabs his chest, feels the joined skin over his heart, the cold beat of it, dry. Your feet move like you're going to leave. He grabs you again, swallows down the beg for forgiveness, and instead squeezes your hand tight.

"I'm gonna go get Daddy," You tell him quick.

"Don't." Ghost tells you, trying to stifle his breathing, trying to reign in the heaving of his chest.

You sound apologetic when you touch his cheek and tell him, "I have to."

He knows you do. Ghost squeezes his eyes shut, feels your hand slip from his grip. He's never going to be as strong as he needs to be, is he?

#cod x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #x oc #ghost mw2 #x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #mw2 ghost #cowboy au #oc: goose #tw panic attack #tw violence #ghost the intrusive thoughts are not genuine wants baby #goosey would understand

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otgo-brooklyn · 11 months

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Older Brother!Slider with Baby Brother!Ice

Okay, so another contribution rant to the Top Gun Fandom:

Big Brother Slider, but ONLY, ONLY to Ice. And not the generic sibling relationship, no, but Ice is his Baby Brother.

For any who don't have that 'Baby' Sibling, as an eldest child, let me explain: A sibling is a younger, less better, version of yourself because your parents were a bit delusional and now there is Another™.

HOWEVER, a Baby Sibling, a BABY Sibling? No, they are essentially your own child, typically the youngest, they are your pride and joy, and when I tell you that with a Baby Sibling you become so protective over them you would commit horrible crimes for them- literally becoming an attack dog on a leash held by said Baby Sibling, that is a true Baby Sibling/Older Sibling relationship. The minute they are born they're just, your child, like so what the birth certificate says that their parents are my parents, that's obviously a lie. They legitimately become your child in more ways than one, whose only role in life is to be happy and loved. And this is SO the relationship between Slider and Ice.

Ice is the Baby Sibling™, with Slider as the protective older brother. Slider makes sure that Ice is happy, and cared for/loved, protected, everything for the Baby™. I cannot explain enough how much I love this head-cannon, and all the proof I'll ever need to explain it is this one GIF;

Look at Slider, the protective arm around the shoulder, the glare, the judgement in his very being, the way his jaw tenses-, compared to Ice, who is just sitting there, not even noticing, focusing on something else all happy like (Or as happy as Ice can get while in Ice-man mode (Or as happy as one can get when translating languages, if you saw my other post about Russian!Ice ;D)).

Slider nearly getting kicked out of the Top Gun program due to beating a fellow pilot unconscious because he DARED shit talk Ice

So they never gave Slider a DOB/specified age in Top Gun, but his actor, Rick Rossovich is 2 years older than Val Kilmer, so that only furthers the point of Slider's Older Brother Agenda

One time Goose was showing Ice how to cartwheel after Ice was interested in how he did it on the deck of the ship they were stationed on and Slider refused to allow Ice to do it because "What if he falls and cracks his skull open on the tarmac Goose!"

When reassured that Ice cracking his skull open isn't going to happen, and Goose was only going to demonstrate, Slider still wont budge on it. Ice never learned how to do a cartwheel to this day

Ice's foot getting caught in the track and wheels of a stationary, not turned on/working tank on accident and one singular, quiet, whispered "ow" after pulling it out of said track/wheel, was all it took to have Slider screaming his head off carrying Ice into medical absolutely positive that Ice just "Broke his own god-damn ankle, GET A MEDIC-"

Someone shoving past Ice on their way to the mess hall in a rush, causing Ice to stumble back literally 2 steps, and Slider getting in their face, slamming them into a wall with a "I swear you put your hands on Ice one more time, your not gonna have hands AT ALL"

He then slings his arm around Ice's shoulder and directs him to the mess hall, glaring at any poor soul who dared look in Ice's direction

They were at the bar and a woman started to approach Ice, who, of course was not noticing (he only has eyes for a 5'7" gremlin named Mav), and Slider shuts that down REAL QUICK. Like, no, not today Lilith, pick a different naval guy-

Give Mav The Talk when he notices Mav giving eyes to Ice, and Goose because Slider can never be too sure, and everyone observing this is sitting there like 'what the actual fuck' after Slider threatens to, and I quote, "French braid your fuckin' nervous system you shitty dwarf" towards Maverick amongst other colorful threats

It gets to the point where Slider is so protective over Ice, people don't ask Ice anything without looking to Slider for some kind of acceptance or denial, like;

Hollywood: Hey Ice do you wanna- Slider, the coldest look ever seen, actively dropping the temperature in the room while promising a slow and tortuous death: Hollywood: -help me figure out this trajectory angle equation for this [classified] mission? Ice, absolutely oblivious to the entire situation: Sure? I guess?

Its single-handedly the funniest and most terrifying thing to ever happen in Top Gun history, aside from whoever decided to put Maverick Mitchell in a plane

And the cherry on top is that Ice DOESN'T HAVE A CLUE at the entire situation

When someone tries saying how terrifying Slider is to Ice he just brushes it off, like, "Oh Slider? No he's very nice, he even walks with me wherever I have to go in the day. He's all bark and no bite"

And everyone in the immediate vicinity just looking at Ice either with pity or like he's stupid because he doesn't know

He never figures it out either

(This overprotectiveness doubles, if not triples when he meets baby Bradley Bradshaw, and Slider just cant compute because now there is another person who has my undying love and protection-)

(Goose once lost Bradley on a very important, very large Naval destroyer and the entirety of the Top Gun Class of '86 is frantically searching the entire ship before Viper finds out and one of them just stumbling into Slider sitting on a couch with Ice and Bradley just absolutely passed out, sleeping like a brick, essentially using him as human furniture, and the look Slider gives them promises a 100 years of death if they wake either of them up-)

(After Goose's death when baby Bradley lives with IceMav, he just clings onto Slider whenever he's over because "I feel safest with Pops, but Pops feels safest with Uncle Sli', so I'm safest-est with Uncle Sli'")

(Mav doesn't know whether to cry because that is so cute- or be annoyed that Slider is preferred over himself)

(After Bradley reconciles with Mav, he's caught sleeping(read absolutely dead to the world) on Slider's chest like when he was as a child and no one knowing what to do because "Rooster that is a 2-STAR ADMIRAL OF THE US NAVY-" Slider is just like "I'm safest-est", and Bradley sleepily chiming in with a "safest-est" and deciding to just go back to sleep like nothing happened)

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mr-and-mr-pendragon · 2 months

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it's a beautiful day in Camelot and you are a horrible goose lovely druid boy needing to be rescued

your life depends on 3 teenagers, a morally compromised doctor, and an ancient dragon:

#merlin memes #mordred #inspired by the post i reblogged before this one #why couldn't everybody just listen to morgana!?#why did merlin have to follow the ways of the lizard? o why #ok arthur was probably 20something in s1 but that's beside the point idk #bbc merlin

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another-lost-mc · 7 months

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the fucking crow with the knife 💀💀💀

now pushing my unhinged crow karasu agenda where silly pookie wookie bear is doing the most outta pocket meme worthy shit because no one except mc knows he turned into a crow

LET HIM BE A SILLY GOOSE

-🪶

the adventures of crowasu

sfw | crack | let the little crow boi live

He’s going to avoid flying as much as possible because that’s boring—he can fly in his demon form.

He definitely wants you to carry him around instead. He’s going to be perched on your shoulder if you can’t carry him.

If your shirt or sweater is loose enough, he might just try to crawl inside and poke his head out from your neckline once in a while.

He wants ALL THE CUDDLES! Rub his little head and coo about how adorable and smart he is, and he’s going to do a little happy crow dance and make the cutest noises.

He helps you with your school work by tapping his beak against your books to point out where the answers are.

He tries to use your computer, but he squawks angrily when typing on the keyboard is too cumbersome.

He tries to use your D.D.D. too and pecks a dent in the case by accident when his beak slides against the screen.

There is going to be a crow suddenly following you around RAD. If he gets caught/sent outside, he’s going to perch on the window sill or rafter outside your classroom while he waits.

He might drop some unpleasant accidents on students that he thinks are talking badly about you, or trying to flirt with you, or stand too close to you…

If they don’t get the hint, he’s going to start pecking at their eyes next.

He brings you little surprises: your favourite snack or candy, a cute novelty pen, even a soft devil silk scarf. You have no idea where he got them though.

(He keeps track of the things he borrows from other students and Asmo and even the stores he flies into when you’re not looking. He’ll pay for them after he’s back to normal.)

Most of the demons catch on that it’s him and plan to tease him about it later. Asmo loves it—he has some cute videos and photos of him (and both of you together) on his Devilgram now.

Mammon keeps an eye on him and reminds Beel that crows are friends, not food.

Solomon doesn’t realize (or doesn’t care) that his horrible cooking was the cause of this whole mess, even though Crowasu won’t stop trying to attack him whenever he’s nearby.

Later when he’s back to normal, Karasu pretends it was the worst day of his life and vows to never let Solomon forget it.

(He changes the wallpaper of his D.D.D. to a photo of him as a crow snuggling in your arms.)

(You collect all his loose feathers you find later and put them in a shadow box with photos from that day as a gift.)

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me karasu #obey me karasu x reader #karasu x reader #obey me oc #obey me oc x reader #x reader #my oc: karasu #gn!reader

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dulcesiabits · 2 months

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I was digging through my old genshin documents and I found this little Kaeya angst snippet... this was originally supposed to be part of a series called "you should've held me closer, loverboy" lol

Your little crush on Kaeya is obvious for anyone who can connect the dots, and even those who don’t. The way your eyes linger on him, and how your voice changes when you talk about him, makes your feelings transparent.

Still, that doesn’t stop him from using you for his means: you’re a distraction he sends out to lure treasure hoarders away from their lair, so the other knights can seize it. He leads you on wild goose chases until you’re dizzy, chasing after treasure that doesn’t exist. Kaeya spins lies and tall tales, and guards his frozen heart from the world.

Still, you believe in him. Still, you come to him with a smile.

Even though everyone sees him as a horrible man (and he’s inclined to agree), you look at him with love. For how long? For how much more will you take? For when will enough be enough? He has not let anyone close to him for so long, he is certain he’s forgotten how to. It’s foolish to love a man like him. You have horrible taste.

Perhaps it’s when you yell his name, and he turns, smirking, to tease you, that he might have lost his composure a bit. When he sees your tears as you yell at him, Kaeya knows this is it. One too many deceptions, one too many lies.

Ah, here it is. Here is enough. It’s been a few days since you last spoke. Still, why does Kaeya’s thoughts linger on you? The sight of your crying face bothers him so much. Is it because you’re his colleague? You’ll be much more likely to get into an accident if you’re distracted with heartbreak.

So, he seeks you out after a few. He needs to fix this, somehow. With a drink, and a meal, and even though he does not apologize, Kaeya can’t just let you wander around Monstadt in tears.

The last person he expected to find you with is Diluc, his own brother, with his arms around you as you sob into his shoulder. He can only watch from the shadows, and he realizes all too late that the truth is that perhaps he may have returned your feelings, more than he thought he would have.

#liya drabbles #genshin impact #kaeya #x reader #kaeya x reader

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zoeykallus · 10 months

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Hey there! I was wondering if you could write about a female reader, traveling with the batch. She suffers from anxiety and depression, coming in phases. There are good and bad days, but she manages to keep it to herself, until she has a really terrible one. And she has feelings for Tech and the other way around, but they haven't addressed it yet, and he is the one realizing something is off with her, trying to comfort her. Some Angst/Fluff stuff... Please? ❤

Hm, this one hits home. Ouch. Sure I can, I actually love the opportunity to comfort myself while writing, especially with Tech 😋😅

Let me see what I can do for us you 😊

Tech x Fem!Reader - The Lowest Low

Warnings: Angst/Mention Of Anxiety/Mention And Description Of Depression Symptoms/Panic Attack/Comfort/Fluff/Soft, Shy, Gentle Tech

____________

Until now, you have always been able to hide it, but suddenly the deepest low in a long time hits you, and you can't hide it anymore. Tech tries to understand what's going on with you.

_____________

So far you have always been able to prevent it, to hide it, even from Hunter. You always withdrew in time when the bad episodes came, you have learned to act by now, to pretend that everything is wonderful, while inside you feel panic, fear, and a deep inexplicable, lonely sadness.

But this one episode is particularly horrible. You blew the last job, a panic attack overtook you, threw you off track, and forced you to retreat. Much to the surprise of the guys, who looked after you in complete bewilderment as you simply cleared the field. This time, none of your breathing exercises or mental retreats helped.

Your back is tense, your muscles tight as if expecting to take a punch at any moment. Your fingers stiffen, a feeling of pressure on your chest, one uncomfortable goose bump after another chases across your body.

A lump forms in your throat and a slaying wave of sadness washes over you. This helpless feeling is awful, you feel guilty of just ditching the guys, on such a simple mission. Nothing special happened, not that you can remember, no specific trigger.

You feel burning pressure behind the bridge of your nose and eyes, tears held back. Your cramped fingers cling to the collar of your shirt as if expecting to be strangled by the fabric at any moment.

The air you breathe is like lead, heavy on your body and hard to get into your lungs. You feel dizzy. An all-encompassing fear has you in its grip, the feeling of being helplessly exposed to everything around you is overpowering. You want to scream, but it seems there isn't even enough air to breath.

You are trembling, your breathing is irregular and heavy. You have retreated to a quiet corner, somewhere behind the landing pad of the Marauder. You are so preoccupied with your condition that you don't hear someone approaching.

Startled, you look up, your heart almost stopping as you hear Tech say your name.

He's standing there, for the first time in a long time not holding the datapad, his helmet tucked under his right arm.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Are you not feeling well? You're pale and look tense, almost panicked."

You feel a single tear run down your face, then a second, but your expression is strangely blank, you feel it yourself.

Tech is looking at you, obviously trying to understand what's going on with you, to make sense of your behavior.

You never wanted anyone to see you like this, especially not Tech. But you sense that the cat is out of the bag, and any white lie would only make him feel like you don't trust him.

"No, Tech," you say softly, "I'm not feeling well."

He blinks, standing there indecisively for a moment. He glances over his shoulder as if to make sure the two of you are really alone. Finally, he looks at you again and asks, "May I come closer?"

You manage to smile at him and nod.

"Of course, I always like having you near me".

A small smile twitches at the corners of his mouth, then he moves closer and sits next to you with some courtesy distance, his long legs bent. Tech sets his helmet down on the ground beside him and looks at you.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

You sigh softly and say, "I don't see how. That's something I don't want to burden you with."

He frowns thoughtfully and says, "It's not a burden. All I see is a person I care about suffering, and I want to counteract that. You said you like having me around, the feeling is mutual. Maybe I can help you in some way with my presence?"

You smile, feeling touched by how cautiously Tech approaches the matter, although he usually wants to go straight to the point.

You swallow nervously, smile cautiously, and ask him, "Would you mind holding my hand?"

Tech blinks in surprise, he seems a little shy, but he moves a little closer and gently grips your hand with his, closing your fingers with gentle pressure.

He thinks for a while, then says thoughtfully, "You need contact, with something or someone that will give you security, peace, safety, an anchor that will ground you, so you can get out of this slump you seem to be in."

You nod and breathe a sigh of relief, the pressure on your chest slowly easing. You block out the irrationally felt fear, feeling less exposed.

"That's why I asked you to hold my hand," you say softly.

Tech tightens his shoulders, sits up a little straighter and smiles, a very gentle, shy, but sincere smile.

"I'm honored," he says, squeezing your hand a tiny bit tighter to emphasize his presence at your side.

You slowly take a few deeper breaths, a few more tears running down your cheeks.

"Isn't it getting better?" he asks, concerned.

Your smile widens a bit, though tears are still streaming down your face.

"Oh yes it is, that's the relief, Tech. That… Tension I've been feeling has been exceedingly intense, all consuming. When it subsides, it's so relieving that I cry sometimes."

He blinks, thinking about what you said, trying to understand.

"It must be scary to feel that intensely," he says thoughtfully.

You nod in agreement.

"Yes, very much so. But there are sometimes very special bright spots that I would never want to miss"

Surprised, he looks at you.

"Such as?"

You feel warmth rise in your tear-stained cheeks as you say, "What I feel for you is intense, too. The joy of your presence or your attention. The peace and security you radiate to me. The incredible affection I feel when I see you smile."

Tech blinks several times in a row, as if he needs to reload his system. His ears turn red, and he looks shyly away to the side.

"Oh," he says softly.

You swallow, afraid you might scare him off, but he's still gently holding your hand, making no move to let you go.

You clear your throat carefully, wanting to say something else, but not daring to. After a while of quiet, Tech breaks the silence that has developed.

"You like me," he says softly, almost in a whisper, like a statement he can't quite grasp yet.

"Yes, indeed."

His eyes dart briefly in your direction with a quick smirk, then he glances shyly at his shoes again.

"Do you like me, too?" you ask softly.

His ears seem to get even redder.

"You could certainly put it that way, yes," he says with a nervous clearing of his throat.

His comm beeps and Hunter's voice is heard, "How's it looking? Is our girl okay?"

Tech glances at you briefly before answering, "She's doing better, but it's recommended to give her some more quiet time."

Hunter says understandingly, "Okay, take your time".

You realize that Hunter, of all of them, probably noticed the most when your low overtook you.

Tech barely noticeably moves a little closer, his thumb stroking your hand that he is still holding.

"Would you do me a favor?" he asks seriously.

"Of course."

He looks directly at you and says, "If you feel like this again, give me a sign, come to me. If it helps you, I always like to hold your hand. Maybe, long hugs will help too?"

Your heart really jumps out to him as you see the gentle expression on his face.

"I'd love to, Tech."

After a brief pause, he asks, "How are you feeling now?"

"Much better."

He raises his brows and asks, "Are you sure? Maybe we should try a hug just to test if it works"

You smile, having to suppress a grin.

"Now that you mention it, maybe we really should."

He moves closer, letting go of your hand. A bit over-cautious and awkward, he puts first one then the other arm around you. But as you lean against him, his embrace naturally adjusts to your posture.

"That's good," he says, "I mean, that should certainly help."

You grin contentedly to yourself, all at once very happy, at least for the moment.

"That's really very good, Tech"

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

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@echos-girlfriend

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@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@starwarsnerd111

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