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goinggoose · 14 days ago

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Gotta admit, any one of these would work on me.

Love me some burritos.

Source: could be worse comics

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goinggoose · 1 month ago

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Happy Star Wars Day! Here’s my other Skywalker Twins comic all in one post!

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goinggoose · 1 month ago

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I still won't forget when my wisdom tooth got infected and couldn't sleep bc the pain was so bad and I took like 4 of those those blue gel ibuprofens and I finally fell asleep for a couple hours and kept having dreams about beautiful glowing blue animals that help you and I kept waking up thinking the blue animals will help me and realizing wait what are blue animals they aren't real and immediately falling back asleep thinking about the blue animals again

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goinggoose · 2 months ago

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DANNYMAY DAY 06: Transformation

Day 05 • Day 07

⟢ TW/CW: This Animation Contains Flashing Lights / Strobe Effects — Gore (Disturbing Images). Viewer discretion is advised! This animation and one-shot is made/written to reflect what PTSD really feels like. (More under the cut)

Genre: Angst / Hurt / Horror • TW/CW: PTSD — Dissociation — Graphic Content (Medical Torture / Vivisection — non-consensual experimentation) — Emotional Distress — Identity Crisis • Scarred For Half A Life (phic), my head canon • AU — OOC

Danny stood in his room, bare feet on cold floorboards, the silence pressing in like a weight. His reflection stared back from the mirror—familiar, but… not. There was something almost foreign about the boy in the glass. Yet, for once, he didn’t hate it. He tilted his head, squinted, and gave himself the smallest smile. Maybe—just maybe—he didn’t look like a complete wreck today.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone. A stupid idea, really.

It felt like ancient times ago that he had taken a selfie. But today, something felt different. Lighter. As if the air didn’t taste like smoke and antiseptic for once. He wanted to believe he was healing.

A breath in. Shaky. But there was something soft about this moment. He wanted to remember it.

He raised the phone, adjusted the angle as his thumb hovered over the screen.

Just one picture. Just to remember that not every day is hell.

A stupid selfie—something to mark a day he didn’t hate his life. A tiny victory for himself.

The softest smile ghosted across his lips—brief, fragile. But it faltered, trembling at the edges. He tried. God, he fxcking tried. But even some hope felt like a lie when it slipped away so easily.

Click.

F L A S H.

He didn’t turn it off. The light exploded across the mirror, for one purr of less than a second—a reflection stared back at him that wasn’t his.

It was there. He was there. That room. That table. Cold metal straps biting into his wrists. Screaming—his voice, raw and desperate. His mother’s voice, sharp and clinical. White suits. White pain. The scalpel carving down his chest. Ectoplasm pooled, searing as it poured from every hole—his nose, his ears, his mouth, the open cuts. Burning him from the inside out—like he was leaking his very own soul.

The vivisection—his lungs, his core, the wet, sickening sound of his insides being pried open. Electric shocks ripping through him, leaving jagged scars across his skin, his face. His body jerking, seizing. Helpless. Exposed. Stripped of everything—dignity, safety, humanity. Just… meat under a microscope.

Danny didn’t register the transformation. Suddenly, Phantom stared back—shoulders stiff, eyes blown wide, chest rising too fast. Phantom took over when Danny was too shattered to stand. Phantom kept the body breathing while Danny’s mind was stuck reliving his own dissection.

His hand gripped the phone. He couldn’t breathe. He was shaking, couldn’t feel the ground beneath him. He wasn’t in his room anymore. He wasn’t now. He was then, again.

A breath. Shallow. Sharp. Coming back to present.

He looked down. The photo showed his soft smile. But he wasn’t smiling. He didn’t even feel real.

Everything was fine.

That’s what he kept telling himself.

Everything is fine.

But his throat burned. His skin felt too tight. The phantom pain still whispered under his ribs, behind his eyes.

Nothing was fine.

It never had been.

He crouched to the floor, arms wrapping around his chest, clutching the place they’d cut him open. The place they said it didn’t belong to him. The place he wasn’t allowed to own.

He wanted to scream.

But even now, even here, he was too afraid to make a sound.

The mirror was still there, his own reflection. And that… that was the worst part.

Because he wasn’t sure… which version was real anymore.

⟢ No, I’m not going to show the disturbing image from the animation. It’s—just… no. If you really want to see it, pause the video at that exact moment. I gave Trigger Warnings, so don’t come after me! (:

⟢ Even I find it really disturbing—and I’m a horror / angst / whump fan. Maybe, it’s because it’s Danny, I don’t know. Almost my whole blog is about Danny angst, lol.

⟢ The boy deserves better. He deserves a warm, grounding hug—wrapped up safe in a blanket like a burrito, held tight until the shaking stops. But we wouldn’t want to do that if there wasn’t a reason behind it—so we write angst phics and make angst art. We break him first… so the comfort means something. Poor Danny!

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goinggoose · 3 months ago

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Olivia Jaimes’ Nancy continues to amaze and delight.