tiny goose

Tom Holland | I Love You

Summary; the many ways the two of you express your love for each other

Warnings; none, just fluff

Relationship; tom holland x reader

Word Count; 1.7K (got a lil carried away)

A/N; haven’t proofread this bc i just wanted to get it up after it literally took me 2935792834 days to finish it  

love; [luv]


  1. a strong feeling of affection

Love is something too abstract and undefinable for even the wisest person to comprehend. Sure, a dictionary attempted to define it in five short words, but love is not just a strong feeling.

Love is when you meet someone who sees the universe embedded in your bones. When that person makes you feel beautiful even when you think you’re nothing. When you both feel like nothing in the world could keep the two of you apart because you two are each other’s world. It’s messy, hurtful and challenging but that’s what makes love real.

Throughout your time spent dating Tom, both of you had learned that even though the simple ‘I love you’ was not directly said, eliciting other actions and words conveyed it just as efficiently.

Keep reading


Baby goose!

This beautiful young gosling arrived at the centre recently after seemingly struggling to walk. It was rushed in to see out vet, Angela, who gave it a full examination.

Luckily, the leg did not seem to be physically injured, but the bird was still struggling to use it properly. Angela gave it a painkiller and anti-inflammatory before moving it into a pen to monitor the legs usage. We’re pleased to say that it is now doing much better!

We will continue to keep an eye on its progress and please keep your fingers crossed!

Please LIKE and SHARE!

Novocaine-Chapter 11

Summary: Breakfast and a Bucky Pov

Pairings: Bucky x reader, Dean x reader

Warnings: a little angst? no major warnings.

Word Count:1148

Bucky Pov:

He watches you move around the kitchen chatting with the Winchesters and Steve, the latter talking animatedly with Dean about monsters and things that go bump in the night. The jealousy boils underneath his skin, has a tight fist around his heart, and sours his gut with rage.

He was angry. Very angry.

You seemed to know exactly how Dean took his eggs. How crispy he liked his bacon. You place a cup of coffee in front of him, the blinding adoration shining in Dean’s eyes as he looks at you makes Bucky’s stomach turn. He clenches his fists as Dean lightly skims his fingers across your hip bone as you move away to serve breakfast, and you blush prettily, tiny goose bumps erupting over your skin at the touch.

He stares as you pile Dean’s plate with eggs, bacon, golden hash browns and, inexplicably, a piece of cherry pie you seemed to have magicked out of thin air. You take a seat next to Dean and without prompting you pass him the hot sauce while Dean picks the mushrooms off your plate knowing full well how much you hated the fungi.

Bucky feels like he’s about to implode. His skin crawls with your proximity to the intruder. All his hair standing on end as your arms brush.

Sam sits on your left, smacking his lips in appreciation and ruffling your bed hair affectionately.

It was too natural, too right, too comfortable the way you fit them. Like you belonged with them. Like they were the family you’d been missing.

It brought to mind family breakfasts long past, Excursions to coney island with Steve, days laying in the part dreaming of a future so big and bright it was hard to now imagine he’d ever been that innocent.

He hated it. He wanted you next to him, blushing coyly every time he smiled at you, sighing contently when he put his arms around you. You were supposed to be his, cooking him breakfast, joking with him, seeking comfort from him.  He ground his teeth against the tirade brewing, venomous words which had gotten him into this situation in the first place.


Your melodious voice snaps him out of his thoughts, his eyes going straight to you. The sweet smile on your face has dread settling in his stomach. The arm Dean places around your shoulders, however, reignites the hate he feels for the green eyed hunter.

“I need a few weeks off. I don’t have any missions coming up, and I could do with a change of scenery,” you say, cocking your head to the side.

Steve looks down at his plate, pushing a bit of egg around. “You gonna tell me why, doll?” he asks softly.

To Bucky’s annoyance you look at Dean for permission, who nods once.

“A friend, the angel you sort of met, he’s in trouble. I need to help find him before he gets hurt,” you answer simply.

Steve raises his eyes to meet yours. “Are you coming back?” he asks, and your smile slips off your face.

You look at Dean again who squeezes your shoulder gently. “I don’t know,” you reply, and Steve closes his eyes tightly, nodding his head.

Bucky’s anger turns to ice. His instincts scream for him to drag you to safety, to get you away from them, them who were taking you, dragging you, further and further away from him. Before he can stop himself he growls, “No.”

Four heads snap in his direction, your face curiously blank of emotion. “I don’t remember asking you,” you reply emotionlessly.

Bucky ignores the twinge in his chest. “It’s too dangerous,” he replies forcefully, rising from his chair and staring you down.

Dean begins to stand, but is cut off when you place a delicate hand on his forearm. “I think you and I need to have a conversation,” you state, motioning for him to follow you into the living room.

The glare Dean sends his way would melt lesser mortals, but Bucky only smirks cockily, following you down the hall.

Your POV.

Stepping into the lounge you whirl on Bucky. “Don’t say anything, don’t talk back. I don’t want to hear what you have to say! You will listen and that’s it. Got it?” you snap.

The surprise on Bucky’s face clearly shows he was expecting a completely different reaction.

“I am leaving, to help my friends, with or without Steve’s permission. You have no say in the matter. You gave up that right when you started toying with my feelings for you.” Bucky opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off, “No! You have no right, Bucky! You act like I’m yours, like I’m property, try and dictate who I see and where I go!” you bark out, hands on your hips

The sadness in Bucky’s eyes softens your anger marginally.

“This isn’t healthy, Bucky. It’s toxic. We need space from each other to figure out what we want. What we need,” you say gently. “I know this is partially my fault. I don’t know when it all turned to shit, but I can’t keep doing this with you. It’s exhausting, emotionally draining, and it’s not helping anyone.”

Bucky is staying silent, his shoulders set in defeat.

“I’m going to go help my friends. Don’t try and stop me,” moving past him to reenter the kitchen, you’re stopped in your tracks as Bucky’s soft voice reaches you.

“He’s not just a friend is he?”

Your mind comes to a screeching halt, your fists clench at your sides, and you turn to look at him over your shoulder, making sure he sees the devastation in your eyes. “No, he isn’t. He never was.”


After breakfast you hurry to your bedroom, packing as lightly as you can. Guns and knives take up most of the space in your bags. You only had ten minutes to get as much together as you could before having to leave. It was a long drive to the next town where you had tracked Cas to a small motel on the outskirts.

Throwing the last t-shirt into your bag, you zip it closed, dragging it behind you on your way to the elevator. You had said your goodbyes to the team earlier. You weren’t going to be gone for more than a week you were sure. Taking the elevator to the lobby, you stride confidently out of the building admiring the sleek Impala on the curb. You shut Baby’s trunk, having put your suitcase in the back, and slide into car looking expectantly between the two brothers.

Dean smirks, Sam smiles widely.

“Lets kill some evil sons of bitches and raise a little hell!” Dean says as starts Baby, the roar of the engine vibrating underneath you.

Resting your head back on the seat, you smile at the ceiling. Finally, you were free.

Tags: under the cut.

Keep reading

WE WANT WAR {Negan/Season 8 Fan fiction}

“Trust me, Princess, you do not wanna fuck with my mind. That’s my job to you. I’m already fucked up enough. Now, I want to hear it loud and clear. Who. Are. You?”

As the war between Alexandria, The Kingdom, The Hilltop and The Sanctuary gains momentum and everyone is in preparation, a daring encounter with the Devil himself puts one lone Alexandrian in a position of sheer conflict. Heart or mind? Fight or flight? Kill to survive? The power of manipulation is powerful, bitter yet sweet. Will she choose to kill the man causing the problems for so many, or will she choose another pathway to fate? 


A/N: THIS TAKES PLACE DURING AND AFTER THE SEASON 7 FINALE. This chapter is short because its a little bit of an intro. I have no idea what is coming in Season 8, but this is here to realistically quench your thirst (?) on what I personally think would be hella cool to happen in the ‘All Out War’. Don’t take anything seriously, I haven’t read no comics.  Okay, again, big inspo to @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash ​ for giving me the motivation to write this. Go check her out, Irresistible Danger is what pushed me to finally write this.

WARNINGS: Violence, mentions of readers difficult life pre-apocalypse, chapters will contain plenty of angst, fluff and maybe smut. I ain’t sure yet, ok, let’s go.

Originally posted by jdm-negan-mcnaughty

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Imagery is not a mistake on this show. Those are the details they get right. Which is why I can not wait to see how brother nightbis remiscwnt of wedding night. Can not wait!!!

I can’t wait either! I love the call backs to their wedding night in that scene. And I was happy to hear Cait comment about their shyness towards each other when they do finally reunite. 

We stood still then, awkwardly hesitating. We were intensely aware of each other—how could we not be? It was quite a small room, and the available atmosphere was completely filled with a charge like static electricity, almost strong enough to be visible. I had a feeling of empty-bellied terror, like the sort you get at the top of a roller coaster. 

“Are you as scared as I am?” I finally said, sounding hoarse to my own ears. 

He looked me over carefully, and raised one eyebrow. 

“I dinna think I can be,” he said. “You’re covered wi’ gooseflesh. Are ye scairt, Sassenach, or only cold?” 

“Both,” I said, and he laughed. 

“Get in, then,” he said. He released my hand and bent to turn back the quilt. 

I didn’t stop shaking when he slid under the quilt beside me, though the heat of his body was a physical shock. 

“God, you’re not cold!” I blurted. I turned toward him, and the warmth of him shimmered against my skin from head to toes. Instinctively drawn, I pressed close against him, shivering. I could feel my nipples tight and hard against his chest, and the sudden shock of his naked skin against my own. 

He laughed a little uncertainly. “No, I’m not. I suppose I must be afraid, aye?” His arms came around me, gently, and I touched his chest, feeling hundreds of tiny goose bumps spring up under my fingertips, among the ruddy curling hairs. 

“When we were afraid of each other before,” I whispered, “on our wedding night—you held my hands. You said it would be easier if we touched.” 

He made a small sound as my fingertip found his nipple. 

“Aye, I did,” he said, sounding breathless. “Lord, touch me like that again.” His hands tightened suddenly, holding me against him. 

“Touch me,” he said again softly, “and let me touch you, my Sassenach.” His hand cupped me, stroking, touching, and my breast lay taut and heavy in his palm. I went on trembling, but now he was doing it, too. 

“When we wed,” he whispered, his breath warm against my cheek, “and I saw ye there, so bonny in your white dress—I couldna think of anything but when we’d be alone, and I could undo your laces and have ye naked, next to me in the bed.” 

“Do you want me now?” I whispered, and kissed the sunburned flesh in the hollow above his collarbone. His skin was faintly salty to the taste, and his hair smelled of woodsmoke and pungent maleness.

Challenging The Brave

Title: Challenging The Brave
Character(s) Featured: Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff
Words: 1,570
Pairing: Bruce Banner x Reader
Genre: Humor
Rating: G (General)
Author’s Note: Hello my kitties and gentle-cats! I’m back, hooray! Did you guys miss me? So my semester is finally done and now I’m free to work on my stories. Another hooray! I actually got a request after sometime. Technically speaking, requests are close, but I will on occasionally answer some because I’m random that way. So here is the request of 2017! I think. I don’t really remember if I’ve done one for this year. Anonymous asked: Can I Ask for A Bruce Banner x Reader where the reader is extremely calm, like nothing can startle, scare, or make her mad. And because of this Tony and everyone else on the team try to get a reaction, aside from Steve and Bruce, of course. And something goes wrong when Tony tried to scare her and Bruce hulk’s out and Hulk gets protective of the reader who has a secretive smile on her face cause they learn she and Bruce have been secretly dating for a while now??? Plz and thank you!!
Summary: You’ve always been a calm person. Since a young age, you’ve been taught that things lose their power if you don’t let them take over your emotions. You don’t get scared, or get mad so quickly. The team, however, don’t believe that someone could be that reserved. They take it upon themselves to see if they can find a weakness. They just didn’t expect someone big and green to protect you from their idiocy. 

Keep reading


charmed giggling fades quickly into depressed sobbing

anonymous asked:

I can picture Jake loving Goose. Opposites attract with Jake being sunshine and rainbows while Goose is a gray rain cloud. The cat acts like he hates the attention but is secretly super protective of his tiny owner.

Jake cuddling Goose and sometimes being a bit rough and maybe holding him a little uncomfortably and clexa warn him that he might scratch or hiss and Jake needs to be gentle but you know what??? Goose never ever makes any sort of threatening movement towards Jake. He’d let Jake hold him upside down if he wanted (not that he does). They have such a special bond, I love it. Meanwhile I think Alex would be judgey of Goose like her mommy lmao 

Dearest (Joker x reader) 6

Chapter 6

Y/N’s curiosity got the better of her when she went exploring by herself in an old insane asylum. Little did she know of the murderous psychopath lurking in the shadows, obsessed and determined to break her and make her his.

Warning; SMUT

Mister J put his hands on both sides of the tub and bent down, looking down at you. Just the sight of you right now, was enough to push him over the edge. Your legs squeezed together with your knees above the purple liquid surface. I was looking up at him with my innocent, angelic eyes and tilted my head slightly to one side. He was breathing heavily, lips parted as he took in the sight of me. He placed his cold hand on my back and started rubbing it in circular motions. I let my eyelids fall and sighed, just by touching a small part of me he could make my entire body shiver, wanting more.

He extended his hand towards me and waited for me to grab it. I did, hesitantly. Using my other arm to cover what I could muster. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as exposed as I do now. The room temperature hit my skin like a little wave and caused tiny goose bumps to form on my arms and thighs. Mister J didn’t take his eyes off my body for one second, devouring me with his stare. He turned around, grabbed a red silk robe and put it over my shoulders, letting it hang over my wet Y/H/C hair.

 ‘’Have you ever been touched like this, kitten?’’ he asked as he pinched on of my nipples. I gasped quietly and turned my head so that it met his. ‘’No, never.’’ I replied as he kept toying with it between his fingers. He let go and walked out of the bathroom and into his master bedroom, which was right outside. I knew he meant for me to follow him, but I needed a minute to collect myself before going through with this. I was afraid I’d get too nervous and back out, although I’m not sure that would be entirely up to me. I looked in the mirror. My hair was wet and fell down the sides of my shoulder. The red silky robe really complimented my face, making the red blush in my cheeks more visible.

 I walked out to see my mister j standing there with his black pants on, waiting for his babydoll. He looked me up and down as I walked towards him. ‘’Come to daddy.’’ He said as he grabbed my chin and pressed his longing lips against my swollen ones. This kiss was more desperate and passionate then any before, we had both wanted this for a long time. He squeezed my ass and used his grip to pull me closer to his body. I could feel his bulge through my robe, which caused my body to heat up. 

He spun me around and pushed me down on his satin sheets, my robe falling half-open, revealing parts of my breasts and my bare, crossed legs. He crawled down and slithered over me, a dark shadow covered my naked body. When he had me beneath him, completely under his control, he used one hand to slide the sides of my robe down to the sides. I was now completely exposed to this psychopath. I closed my eyes and tried to regulate my breath.

 ‘’God, you’re so perfect’’ he mumbled as I suddenly felt a kiss on my leg. I remained quiet, and felt a knot in my stomach. My heart was racing and I felt completely and utterly defenseless. I wanted more, but I was also scared of feeling more. He could definitely sense my anxiousness and the tension in my body. He fed on it, thrived on it. He loved having this control over me, my fragile body laying beneath him, his for the taking. He started placing wet kisses and little bites from my leg, to my knee and up to my thigh when my eyes snapped open. It felt like my body was a about to explode and I was scared I was gonna start moaning.

 My legs had always been a sensitive part of my body so whenever someone touched me, I would always flinch, giggle and pull away. ‘’S-stop’’ I whimpered. Mister J looked up at my pleading eyes and growled in annoyance. Then he quickly and firmly snaked his arms between my legs, spread them and gripped the sides of my thigs, holding me down. I was unable to move and before my brain could register all the sudden movements, mister j ran his tongue up my slit. My back arched immediately and I couldn’t help but let a moan escape my lips. ‘’God, you’re so fucking wet for your daddy’’ he groaned, his face buried between my legs. I moaned at his words and barely manage to utter a mmmm to confirm.

 Just when I thought, the feeling couldn’t get more intense he started putting all of his attention on my clit. He moved his tongue in circles and sucked harshly on it, making me grip the sheets so tight I could’ve ripped them in half. The feeling was almost too much for me and I instinctively tried to close my legs. Once mister J felt that, his grip got harder and he pushed my thigs further apart and started sucking on my clit harder and faster than he had before. ‘’Fuck!’’ I almost shouted as my thighs started trembling. He put my clit between his silver grills and nibbled gently on it.

As I felt my orgasm starting to build up he pulled away and got up on his knees, looking down at me. My breathing was soft and heavy and my cheeks were pink. He purred into my ear as he grabbed my neck and kissed me viciously, biting my lower lip so hard a little drop of blood ran down my chin. He then grabbed a fistful of my hair and used it to bend my head back, revealing every part of my neck and throat to him. He placed small kisses from my collarbones and up to my chin. Then he used his tongue to lick the drop of blood up till my mouth before he attached his lips back on mine.

If I wasn’t a hot mess before, I was now. ‘’You want more, baby?’’ he asked, lust visible in his voice. ‘’Yes daddy’’ I breathed out. ‘’Say it, say iit.’’ He growled in the crook of my neck. ‘’Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty pleease daddy?’’ I pouted at him and licked the blood of my lower lip. He practically ripped his jeans and boxers off and crawled in-between my legs. My pupils were dilated and my eyes were huge, looking at his magnificent creature on top of me.

We looked at each other for a few seconds before he thrusted himself into my soaking wet pussy. ‘’Aaaah fuck’’ he groaned as he moved in and out of me while keeping a tight grip on my neck. ‘’You’re so fucking tight, kitten’’ I put my hands on the back of his head and gripped his green hair. We never lost eye contact. ‘’You feel s-soo good daddy’’ I could barely speak between moans. ‘’Come on puddin, fuck me harder’’ I said with a raspy voice before biting his lip. We were both surprised at my sudden sexual confidence but he didn’t hesitate for a second to thrust his entire length into me. He started to pick up the pace and groaned between heavy breaths. The sound of his growling and my moaning turned me on even more.

 Mister J placed one hand around my neck and slid the other down to my clit, rubbing it in pace with his thrusts. This caused me to arch my back in pleasure and lift my head back into the pillow, which mister j saw as an opportunity to tighten his grip around my neck, almost cutting my air supply. ‘’You gonna be a good little girl and cum for your daddy, huh?’’ he said inbetween grunts. ‘’Yes, - yes yes’’ I moaned for him.

 I felt his thrusts getting sloppier as I felt my orgasm building. He released one final, loud groan as I felt his warm liquid fill me. This pushed me over the edge and I gripped his hair tightly as I moaned and arched my body up towards his, seeing white.

We both panted, catching our breaths while looking at each other. ‘’Oh, I’m definitely gonna keep you, kid.’’ Mistah j laughed and bit my earlobe.

Night Terrors [Jonathan Crane x Reader]


Jonathan Crane “things you said when you thought i was asleep” requested from


Words: 430

Warnings: Jonathan and the reader are not at all shown to be in a healthy relationship, manipulation, slight hints a sexual themes, just a general dark feeling, induced (and in consensual) nightmares. Also, there’s kind of a cliffhanger, maybe.

Notes: The 2nd most used word in this fic is fear so hopefully that means it’s on the right track. Sorry this took so long, it took a while for me to kind of get into the feel of Jonathan and how his head works and how he would interact with someone he was in a relationship with. I think I got it though. Hope you all enjoy!! Feedback is always welcomed (which means let me know if you enjoyed his, or if you thought there was something wrong and you have hints or tips in making it better!) 


“I’m jealous of you, sometimes.”  

Keep reading

That’s Why You’re Beautiful

For the fabulous anon that requested: Bellamy x reader that includes pulling the reader close by her shirt and tracing her shoulder.

You had a scar that you were self-conscious about, a large crescent-moon that arched just beneath your right shoulder blade. You considered it a flaw, but Bellamy considered it to be a work of art. To him it was an integral brushstroke on the masterpiece that was you. You were a work of fine art, a perfectly sculpted treasure worthy of the grand artist Michelangelo. He treated every line of your unique design as special and just like the strokes in a painting, every line was essential in conveying the story that was your life.

For you, the scar represented an unwanted memento from a childhood accident, a souvenir from your abusive and alcoholic mother. You had blotted out most of the memory except for small fragments that featured flashes of blood, broken glass, and the drunken slurs that came screeching from your mother’s mouth. Twelve stitches later you had this beauty that not only left a blemish on your body but on your mind. And just like you kept the memory suppressed you kept the scar covered.

It was midsummer and the weather was quite warm, much too warm for the black bomber jacket you were sporting. Wearing that much clothing when the temperature was pushing 80 degrees was absolutely absurd, but you were only comfortable enough to remove the veiling garment in the privacy of your own tent. The fleshy, discolored scar was quite noticeable against your skin tone and eyeballs immediately flocked to it whenever you wore a tank top. It was tiresome having to remember all of the stories you created just to cover up the truth. You would rather deal with the heat than the never ending questions and stares.

Working for hours under the hot sun in heavy layers required frequent breaks and you were taking a short recess in the shade of your tent before returning to work. You had taken off every top layer and you wiped the sweat from your back with a wet cloth. 

You were fastening your bra when Bellamy came in. He eyed you with a mischievous grin while he set his pack and rifle down on the ground.  

“Don’t look at me like that,” You said slipping the racerback tank over your head.

“Why?” Bellamy asked with a laugh. 

“Because I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

Both of your eyes fell on the bomber jacket. You reached for it but Bellamy beat you to it by a millisecond.

“Come on, Bell. Quit fooling around,” You said crossing your arms.

“I was just gonna offer to help you put it on,” Bellamy said holding the jacket open. 

“You just want to poke at my scar.”

“That’s only partly true.”

You held out your hand. “Give me the jacket.”

“After you give me a kiss,” Bellamy said hiding the coat behind his back.

You leaned in and gave him three quick smooches on the lips before retrieving your garment from his clutches. “That was two more than you asked for. Must be your lucky day.”

“I’m lucky because I have you.”

Bellamy always knew the right thing to say to make your heart turn into silly putty.

“For the record, I think you’re beautiful any way you want to be, but I don’t think you need the jacket,” he said sitting on the edge of the bed. He removed his dark blue t-shirt and tossed it on the bed next to him. “In fact, you don’t need to wear anything around me.”

Bellamy grabbed you by the hips and buried his face in your stomach, which happened to be the most ticklish part of your body.

“Okay, okay, no jacket,” You giggled, placing the clothing item next to him. “But I should get back to sorting rations.” 

You tried to walk away from him but he pulled you onto his lap by the hem of your shirt. He held you in place by wrapping his well-toned arms around your waist. Then he trailed kisses along the outline of each of your shoulder blades, saving your scar for last because it deserved special attention. Tiny goose bumps spiked all across your arms as his supple lips glided gracefully across your skin.

“Well, I relieve you of your rations duty,” Bellamy said rolling you onto the bed. “Besides, I’m tired of watching you roast like a wild boar out in that sun.”

“I’ll never understand your obsession with this scar,” You sighed, lifting your shirt over your head. 

“It’s part of you,” He said tracing the contour of your shoulder with his index finger. He unfastened your bra so that he could enjoy every square inch of this glorious monument. “You’re beautiful because you survived.”

You couldn’t help but marvel at Bellamy’s ability to give something with such a negative connotation a positive meaning. From Bellamy’s perspective that little imperfection said nothing about your mother but it spoke volumes about your character. That mark represented your strength, courage, and strong will in the face of adversity. Those were the traits that he truly admired about you.

You turned over to face your beloved Bellamy, wondering how on earth you became so fortunate to have someone as incredible as him in your life. You skimmed your fingers delicately across his jawline before kissing him deeply. 

“I love you,” You said brushing the messy dark tendrils away from his face.

“I love you too.” 

Bellamy was just as much a part of you now as that scar was. His love exemplified everything that was right and good about you. He was always able to dig through all the muck that you hid behind and point out what made you extraordinary. With him you didn’t have to suffocate. You could air out all of your insecurities in maximum comfort. You didn’t need the jacket anymore because Bellamy was your human security blanket.

Ok so I know I’m still fairly new to this community, and I’m pretty quiet on tumblr, just reblogging pictures and stuff, and don’t have many followers yet, but I’d like to ask for some help from the witch community on here.

I know this may seem like a very, very strange request, but basically, I am overly obsessed with geese. I love everything about them. I flew to sydney and spent a day at a goose park, where there were about 40 geese, and it was the best day of my life. I have a goose blanket on my bed, several pictures of the geese I met on my wall, a life-size ceramic goose, a plush goose, a goose my sister sewed for me, a tiny glass goose, the list goes on. 

And here’s the point of my post: I really badly want my own goose as a pet, actually two most likely as I don’t want it to be lonely. I know everything about how to raise a goose, what breed to get, and have a large enough backyard, and know where to get everything I need to raise it. But, as I live with my parents still, I need them to agree to let me have one. It’s the only thing stopping me.

So, tldr: Please reblog/charge this sigil, and help me get a pet goose! It would absolutely make my life! (the sigil says: I will get a pet goose by the end of the year)

Thank you! (again i’m sorry for how strange this aha)

#238: 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand'

I Wanna Hold Your Hand-One Shot #238

(+past one shots)

No visuals in this one. 

The house was fireplace warmed and locked up tight to keep the snow out, when it started. You’d recognize it now, easily. It started as tiny twinges in your hips, wrapping around to your lower back, in tiny electric shocks that rocketed down your thighs and made you hiss in pain quietly, a tight sound from between your lips.

It was early in the morning of your babies’ eventual birthday that you’d started to feel off. Not necessarily like labor was starting, but that it was definitely on the horizon. Your pelvis felt so full, not surprising with the amount of baby that it had resting in it. And you could breathe again, which signaled that the two squirming lives within your were starting to make their exit into the world.

You were up before anyone else that morning, shuffling around the kitchen in baggy pajama pants that were still working hard to accommodate your expanded waistline and one of Harry’s black, knitted jumpers. The baggiest one that you could find, when you’d pulled the pillow from between your knees, and hauled yourself from bed with some effort. With a few grumbled groans, you padded over to the closet to find something to pull on over the pair of his boxers and his billowy tank top that was the only thing remotely comfortable enough to sleep in for the little amount of sleep you harbored. You kissed him on the cheek as he slept, careful not to wake him, feeling his soft breath wash over your face, as you brushed the errant little curls near his temples, -in desperate need of a trim- behind his ear. He was burrowed down into the blankets, and looking over at the clock, you noticed his alarm was about to go off.

“Alright, boys, hang on,” you mumbled, under your breath and pushed your hands against the tense muscles at the base of your spine, pushing a heavy breath from between your teeth, and going to switch on the kettle. “Ow!” you hissed, your hand flying to a spot on one side of your belly, where you could feel a tiny knee pushing against your skin. “None of that, little mister or we’ll have a serious talk when you get here.” Jude’s kicks and wiggles got Finn moving around too, feeling like he was trying to push his way through your skin, your belly now jostling from both sides. “Oh, now you got your brother in on the action.” You cooed down to your belly, housing the boys that were now wide awake, but had been for most of the night. You were going to have your hands full with these two, you could already tell.

Keep reading