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asknightmareanderror · 2 years

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I haven't had any quality sleep so I drank a pink monster energy drink.

And yeah I'm good.

How are you doing, both of you

Quality sleep is so hard to come by these days... qwq

N - "Thun has been trying to limit themselves to one can of Red Bull a day...and has not been very successful."

I did it for a week...and then fell back into my old ways, because I can't stay awake if I don't drink them. I will sleep for at least fourteen hours at a time if I don't ;3; (They’re sugar free though, so they don’t affect my blood sugar XD)

E - "Apart from that, we're alright...surviving, heh."

It's been good, I've been getting the three new ex-battery/barn hens used to me the last couple days. (They've retired and are free-ranging now :3)

A lot of info under the cut (I couldn't help myself, my sincerest apologies);

Friend (one of the older chickens we have) seems to have something wrong with her depth perception, and can't really tell how far away food is, so I've been feeding her out of a bowl, instead of the feeder :) She's definitely gotten a lot more friendly after that, and relies on me a lot more XD

All the chickens have names;

Friend (Top of the pecking order, best girl, very cute, follows me everywhere around the garden, tackling the eyesight issue like a champ <3)

Bully (Second in command (She has spurs like a rooster) and bullies everyone, apart from Friend, who puts her in her place).

Sunshine (One of the lowest, got her from a family who couldn't keep her anymore because their dog kept eating her remains and getting sick). Those are the three older ones we have. We got new ones a few weeks ago.

Dusting (Highest in the pecking order out of the three new ones, named Dusting because she is white, (unlike the others, who are a mix of red and gold(?)), it's another name for when it's snowing and she loves dust baths. Very shy, hasn't gotten too close as of yet).

Iris (the inbetween, first to approach me and eat out of my hands, loves to try and rip my fingers off).

Icarus (a.k.a The Dark One, lowest, probably the most confident though, also tries to take my fingers off).

Slowly but surely, they're growing their feathers back, and I can't wait to see them with them all.

As for Friend, I'll be keeping an eye on her and feeding her for a while longer. She's still very willing to eat and drink, which is a good sign, especially when it comes to chickens :) Somehow, she's still kept her role as the leader, even though, typically, they can sense when something's wrong with each other.

They mainly keep to their own groups, the younger ones stick together, and the older ones do the same. Sunshine tends to mingle with Dusting, Iris and Icarus a fair bit, because she's also one of the lowest.

All in all, very good chickens, very satisfying to sit outside with them for hours and have them slowly feel more comfortable to be around me. We're currently getting three/four eggs a day, Friend and Bully don't lay anymore, but they seem to be enjoying life :)

They probably won't live as long as they're supposed to, because of the first year being so stressful at the battery farms, but I love them a lot <333 qwq

(Cuffer would be completely smitten with them and never leave the garden ;3;)

(Sorry for the ramble XD I just love talking about how far they've gotten, they honestly deserve the freedom uwu)

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eannpatterson · 1 year

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Rotten eggs in the store

Rotten eggs in the store - battery hens and academic publishing

Do you feel like a battery hen? I ask the question because I know many of the readers of this blog are academics and in her 1995 introduction to the revised edition of her book ‘Beast and Man‘, the philosopher Mary Midgley describes the current approach to the writing and publication of academic papers as a battery-egg system in which the number of publications produced by an academic are simply…

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#battery hen #Beast and Man #eggs #journals #Mary Midgley #publishing #retractions

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ceilidho · 4 months

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prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 2. (read part 1 here) tags: dubcon

There’s a photo of you taped up on the inside of his locker.

The glimpse you catch of it is quick. Not like you aren’t meant to see it, but more like Johnny’s so unconcerned with whether you see it or not that he doesn’t bother to make a show of it. Just reaches into his locker to grab his lunch and shuts it while you’re still gaping at the polaroid of someone that looks suspiciously like you in your store uniform. You hear someone clear their throat and you glance up, flinching when you meet Johnny’s eyes.

“Missing me already?” he teases, winking. “I’ll be back on the floor as soon as possible. ‘Promise, hen.”

“It’s not—”

He’s already out the door and on the way to the lunchroom before you’re able to get the rest of your sentence out.

Johnny seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re about to spurn his advances. Any other day he would have stuck around to listen to the rest of your sentence, but when he has an inkling that those words will be tinged by the flavour of rejection, he’s quick to book it. You privately have to admit it’s not a terrible strategy. It’s not often that you’re able to get the words out.

It’s one of those rare shifts where you’re clocking in later than Johnny, missing his lunch break. Small mercies. It doesn’t mean much because your schedules still overlap a significant amount, but it does mean that you won’t be forced to choke down your lunch while Johnny sits opposite you at the lunch table and stares you down the entire half hour.

“Wait, that was so fucking cute,” someone says from behind you. You turn on your heel to find a coworker staring at Johnny’s locker, properly enchanted by whatever she saw. Practically swooning.

“What is?”

“Didn’t you see the picture he has of you? In his locker?” She says it with emphasis, giving you a significant look.

“Yeah…I…don’t you think it’s a bit…like, weird?” you ask her, making sure to keep your voice low in case Johnny is still around the corner. You can’t help the way you glance down the hallway.

She frowns. “It’s cute. He’s like, smitten with you. I’ve never seen him with a crush on anyone before and I’ve worked with him for over a year. I think it’s kind of nice. Do you not like him or something?”

“Well, I just…we aren’t even dating and I think…I think he even has a photo of me as his lock screen—”

“Because if you aren’t interested in him, you should let him down now. It’s not fair of you to just string him along, you know. He’s a really good guy.”

You’re not sure about the whole good guy thing. Johnny acts like a nice guy most of the time, but you’ve had the unfortunate luck in getting to experience the other side of him.

The problem lies in the fact that Johnny is, you think, a genuinely likeable guy to everyone else. It’s not like your coworkers are all collectively wrong in their opinion of him—he really is an excellent coworker. A good sport, a funny guy; he lends a hand whenever someone needs help. He helped Jeff move two weeks ago, drove Daryl to the airport last Saturday, and looked after Sonya’s cat while she was away on vacation that one time.

It’s with you that his good-time nature evaporates; his lazy, drawled predilection for joking around and indulging himself and others in a good ribbing replaced by a weird, manufactured kindness. Almost sickly sweet. He lays it on so thick around others that they think you experience the same friendship with Johnny that the rest of them get to enjoy.

Not so.

None of them catch the way he’s always hovering, always staring at you. Eyes half-lidded; bedroom eyes in the middle of your shift, in the middle of the workplace.

None of your coworkers are around when you’re at the register one day and Johnny takes his break to make a couple purchases, coming to your cash with a basket full of chocolate, wine, condoms, body butter, and batteries. No one except him notices the way you pause at the last item.

“Dinnae ken if your vibrator was rechargeable or not,” he says when you look at him funny, a big grin stretched across his face. Blue eyes gleaming almost feverishly. “Thought I’d be prepared either way.”

You scan his items in silence. When you hand him his bag, you try not to shudder when he purposefully glances his hand over yours.

Worse are the days when Johnny comes in as a customer, the days when he’s off the schedule. When he shouldn’t even be at the store at all. No one notices the way he pesters you the entire time he’s in the store, insisting on you helping him with his purchases. If a coworker does happen to notice his presence (and how could they not when he’s such a formidable presence in any room, when he almost glows from the energy stockpiled in his body with nowhere else to go), he’ll make polite conversation, just long enough to not seem rude, before shifting his attention back to you.

His conversation borders on interrogation. He asks you about your childhood and your friends and whether you have a partner or any previous partners. He makes you follow him to the bed section where he tries out all the mattresses and then asks you increasingly inappropriate questions like what mattress you have, what it feels like, how you sleep at night, what you wear to bed.

When you rebuff him one too many times, he’s not shy about telling you off.

“Ye just need a good fuck ta sort ye out,” Johnny snarls when you brush off another invite out to lunch one day. It’s not often that he loses his temper with you, so his anger makes your eyes widen, your pulse pick up. During morning shift assignments, he’d corralled your manager into pairing the two of you up on curbside pick-up orders, meaning that you’ve been stuck with him for hours, nowhere else to go.

“Excuse me?” you say, voice going up a decibel.

He leans across the front of the cart loaded with flowerpots and gardening tools. “I get it, hen. No one at home ta play with your pussy, huh? No choice but ta come into work all pent up and frustrated—”

“This is in like, the outer Hebrides of ‘none of your business’—”

“—clit’s probably all swollen too. Fuck.” He breathes out heavily through his nose, eyes darkening. “No wonder you’re always pissed off. I’d be too if I dinnae have a little replacement pussy at home.”

“You’re the reason I’m upset in the first place, Johnny.”

“Aw, I ken, bonnie,” he says with a pout, eyebrows slanting down like he really, truly pities you, the gesture immediately contradicted by his next words. “Promise I’ll make it better. Wanna meet outside my truck in a half hour?”

You storm off before it comes to blows. Not that it’d ever be a fair fight. Johnny would probably hold you away with his palm against your head while you swung at him uselessly. You try not to think of that too often. Of him toying with you. Most of your interactions feel like that these days. Like he’s a big cat holding your tail down when you try to scramble away.

When you beg your manager to switch shift assignments, the look you get could wilt flowers. It’s not completely your fault, even if your request is a bit inconveniencing. Johnny has your coworkers and management so wrapped around his finger that no one can even hazard a guess as to why you might be uncomfortable around him.

It’s the only reason you haven’t complained to HR yet. There are channels and protocols for dealing with his behaviour, but watching people practically trip over themselves to please him reminds you that the likeliest outcome would be them transferring you to another store. It just doesn’t seem worth it.

You don’t think about how frazzled his words leave you for the rest of your shift. You don’t think about it because there’s nothing to think about.

You know from the second that your manager reassigns you to women’s apparel that you’ve probably made a mistake. Customers buzz around you like gnats, like swarms of flies, and it’s only natural that you’d be compelled to swat a few. You hold on to the fraying edges of your patience with little finesse. About halfway through your shift, you get a stern talking to from your floor supervisor and put on an extra long break. You’re no less irritated when you get back though, somehow still agitated and snappy.

Big hands clamp over your shoulders and squeeze like he’s giving you a massage, thumbs digging into the grooves of your upper back. He ignores the way you tense up.

“Hen, you’re making the customers uncomfortable with all your huffin’ and puffin’,” he whispers into your ear, a light chuckle falling out with his words. Amused by your attitude this time instead of ticked off. “If ye want, I could take ye ta the back room ta loosen ye up a bit. Make your day a little better. Dinnae think anybody will even notice if we dip away for a bit—’sides management will probably send me a gift basket if ye come back perky after a good shag.”

You shrug him off to go clock out, ignoring the way he chuckles as you storm off. No one knows if you go home and wear out the battery in your vibrator while thinking about Johnny’s words. Thinking about Johnny guiding you to his truck with a palm flat on your low back, pinkie teasing just under the waistband of your pants, before laying you out across the backseat and climbing on top of you.

You come when you think about how he’d have to keep the door open to fuck you in his car.

Unfortunately, you’re more than familiar with his sweet side as well.

On your birthday, he comes in early with a sheet cake and organizes the employees so that the breakroom is dark when you come in. The entire staff is there when you switch on the lights, shouting your name and happy birthday, decked out in party hats and blowing into noisemakers.

It catches you off guard. Hits you right in the solar plexus and leaves you winded. You stand in the middle of the room like you’re under a spotlight and that spotlight is Johnny’s stare burning a hole in your head. For once, it doesn’t rankle. It leaves you feeling light, feathery, like floating down to earth. A coworker hands you a noisemaker and you smile until your eyes crinkle when you blow into it.

You’re in a good enough mood that you don’t argue when he insists on sitting beside you. He got you the cake after all. Maybe it’s the least he deserves. Your goodwill lasts until Johnny tries to feed you a piece of cake with his fork; he winds up getting cake smushed all over your cheek when you turn your head away.

“Johnny, ‘m not a baby,” you complain, wrinkling your nose when cake and icing slide down your face. “I can feed myself. This is so gross.”

“Shucks, hen, lemme get that. Shouldnae have turned your head,” Johnny curses, leaning over to scoop it off with his fingers. He holds them out to you, an offering. “Here ye go, kitty.”

You stare, horrified, until he shrugs like ‘suit yourself’ and pops them into his own mouth. Then drags the same spit covered fingers over your cheek again to keep cleaning you up.

You can tell that it’s hopeless to complain by the way your coworkers giggle and gossip, eyes drawn to the two of you. Maybe it would be better if you were transferred. You only have so many ‘I’m not his work wife’s left in you. Something’s bound to give. You have a sneaking suspicion that it’s going to be you.

On the walk to your car after your shift, which Johnny insists on doing like he does every time the two of you work a closing shift together, he jokingly asks if you’ve gotten your birthday spanks. He says it in that same awkward joking tone, just a bit too excited, staring at you too eagerly. Unblinking. Tuts his tongue when you tell him you’ve never heard of that before.

You jolt and squeak at the pop on your ass when he insists on opening the door to your car and helping you in. The betrayed look you shoot him hardly penetrates through his shit-eating grin.

“See ye tomorrow, kitty,” Johnny calls out, walking backwards away from you to where his truck is parked just a few spots away from yours. You think he would’ve parked right next to you if you hadn’t chosen a spot conveniently between two other cars. “More where that came from.”

Your hands shake against the steering wheel your whole drive home. Dreading tomorrow’s shift.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap x you #soap/reader #ikea soap #soap cod #john mactavish #x reader

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homeofhousechickens · 1 year

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Little update on Second-Hen'd

Also of the remaining eight pumpkin spice girls there are two special needs hens that need a home. One has suffered a neck break that has healed but her neck is now wonky and the other hen has trouble thermoregulating. Both of these hens are bonded and will need to find a house chicken home this will make it harder for them to be adopted. Leghorns make great house chickens and you would be giving an ex battery hen another chance at life. Some of these other hens can live a long and normal chicken life outside with the right care.

#rescue #battery hens #ex battery hens #chickens #chickenblr #pet birds #birdblr #egg laying hens #egg layer

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holy-puckslibrary · 1 month

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just a lil firefighter!sid fluff for y'all :)

gif from @ehghtysevenarchive + per this ask and others

Surely, the chief of Canada's oldest fire department has more important things to do on a crisp morning, the last one preceding a fresh week, than this. He most definitely does. And, yes, Chief Crosby is known for his pragmatic approach to, well, everything.

But neither carries weight here—not when she calls.

Leaky faucet, dead car battery, unreachable spider... It doesn't matter. One ring, and he's rushing home. He can't pin-point when the pattern began, likely sometime shortly between the day you moved into town and his first off-day, but it's a routine he's come to enjoy despite the extra strain on both his schedule and his body; Sidney never thought sharing a property line could be so tedious or time-consuming.

He knows he shouldn't enjoy the distraction as much as he does. You aren't together, Sidney doesn't ever allow his imagination wander that far, but he can't help it. He can't help but help. He rarely turns down anyone in need, which has done wonders for his reputation within the community, but with you... With you, it's different, and embarrassingly so.

He doesn't have the words to explain it. Not that he needs to, it's written plainly across his face.

There's a reason you're regular fixtures in the town's gossip column.

When he arrives on scene—not ten minutes after his F-Series crawled down the gravel drive—Sidney shakes his head and laughs. Collecting his cell and his radio, he slips out of the truck, watching as you fret like a mother hen.

Still in your slippers, you're stood at the base of a decently-sized red spruce wedged between his yard and yours, your crumpled face angled up into the yellow-green needles. You're the very picture of worry, wringing your trembling hands and muttering to yourself.

A stray kitten caught in a tree, that's what's got you in a such a state.

"Well, this is a new one," he bellows in lieu of a greeting, slamming the door shut as his boots hit the ground.

Briefly, your glassy eyes dart in his direction. You're midway through your customary apology when he arrives at your side and quiets you, just as he always does.

"They're more than capable of holding down the fort for however long it takes to rescue our new friend, okay?"

"I know, but what if—"

"But nothing," Sidney huffs, and he dares to take you by the shoulders. And, externally, he ignores the way you shiver under his palms. "If I didn't think it was safe for me to step out for a couple of minutes, I wouldn't. You believe me, right?"

You nod, bottom lip pinched between your teeth.

"Good. Now, how 'bout you keep an ear on this," Sidney sets the clunky satellite radio in your hand, "—and I'll grab the ladder from the shed?"

He doesn't really need your help monitoring the channel, but he knows you'll feel better if you feel like you're doing something. Like him, you find comfort in your utility.

In less than a minute, Sidney re-emerges, rounding the corner with a ladder in hand. You're in the same spot, now fidgeting with the radio, anxiously dumping it from one palm to the other and back again. He follows your gaze to line up the simple equipment necessary for the rescue operation.

Sidney's heart swells as you quietly step forward to spot him.

Lucky for everyone, the ball of orange fur is on the branch nearest to the ground. Sidney needs only to step up onto the first wrung to safetly coax the frightened creature into his waiting hands, he's back on the ground not long after.

He gives the kitten a gentle parting scratch under the chin, then transfers the purring fluff to you. The soft bundle takes to you immediately, nuzzling into your chest like that's where it wanted to be all along.

"I think he likes you," Sidney observes with a cheek-numbing grin.

Your lips are tipped up at the end and there's fan of happiness rooting itself around your eyes. Your mouth opens to reply, but before the words come—

"Well, would you look at this?"

Across the quiet street and a few houses to the left sits an audience of two. Both of which are now cooing as loudly as two ladies in their sixties can manage. Coffee cups in one hand and their cellphones propped up in the other, they fawn over the two of you as if it's live theater.

Sidney curses their sons, who he'd completed the explorer program with as teens, for enabling this technological torture.

"Smile, you two! Oh, Denise is just going to eat this up," one of them, a spitfire in a 4'11 frame by the name of Mrs. Bouchard, exclaims to her co-conspirator, Ms. Johnston.

Then, to no one's surprise and Sid's chagrin, they giddily type out their respective messages to the local paper's equally-nosy editor-in-chief.

"Looks like we're front-page news again," you hum bashfully.

The tabby mewls in your arms. You curl into the little bundle of fur, lips landing between its delicate ears.

Sid studies you in his periphery as he slips in and out of heady contemplation, ultimately deciding he doesn't mind as much as he once did. "That we are..."

—

eek! wait, why do i luv them already 🥹

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

READ MORE OF THEM HERE!

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pokegalla · 1 year

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Bestie- I need this ok?!

Bad sanses with an S/O that absolutely DEVOURS energy drinks, like, 3+ a day- and they are still tired-

(I just described me fr-)

Ok gotchu✨

Sorry about late response! I thought I had finished your request…..

Then I look at drafts 🙃

I hope you enjoy!!!

The Bad Sanses (+ Cross) with an tired S/o who always drinks energy drinks!

Dust:

* How are you alive man? Like not radioactive and shit-? That is a LOT of energy drinks. And you can’t fool this guy. He’s very observant so he’ll immediately notice that you still get tired.

* He honestly might just teach you the bad causes of drinking too many. Nah really he will sit you down with all the research he did to explain everything. (Quite endearing really. He really wants to make sure you’re ok❤️)

* Now he’s not gonna force you to stop. It’s really up to you in the end. But he will still be making sure you are ok. And he suggests healthier options too! See? Now you can enjoy what you love but in a much healthier way!

* He’s not very talkative but the way he shows how much he cares for you is very sweet. Don’t worry your skellie too much! He’s quite the Worrywart!

Horror:

* Boyo is always trying to take a sip from your can. He’s just curious on why you love it so much. So much that he is literally giving you puppy eyes so that you’ll give him a sip (which I know you succumbed to the cuteness-). He found it pretty cool!

* And yet…..you still cannot get away with saying “Oh I’m not tired! Just waiting for it to kick in! 👀💦” yeah sweetie Horror is also very observant. He’ll make you get sleep. And you can ONLY get an energy drink if you get proper sleep in!

* He knows you love the drinks but he’d rather you get proper sleep first! Then you can have any you like! Why drink to get energy when you can just sleep Y’know? That’s what he thinks anyway. But he wants you happy too so you always wake up with an energy drink ready for you! ☺️

* He just wants you to be happy and healthy!

Killer:

* Bruh. You know DAMN well he’s probably the one supplying you the damn drinks- if you thought you was bad? Think again- he literally has an unlimited supply in god knows where in that room of his…..

* Let’s be honest: He drinks WITH you. Both of you happily drinking together on the couch watching anime or playing games. But he’ll drop a few hints about “Heh might wanna slow down…”

* Now just because he kind of (is) a bad influence, doesn’t mean he won’t keep an eye on you. If he sees how it affects you, he’ll try to moderate how much to give you. Because he may be a lil shit….but he cares about you a lot.

* You can always be guaranteed to have fun with this guy but also taken care of no matter what!

Error:

* Glitchy boi would be a straight up dick talking about you have an addiction meanwhile he’s on his 15th chocolate bar himself- I’m pretty sure he steals your drinks too-

* And you can bet he’s taking those drinks away if you’re overdoing it. He’ll have multiple excuses for keeping it from you…..but really he just wuvs you and doesn’t want you feeling all sluggish because he worries for you 🥺. Will he admit that? HA! No-

* Though he will easily give in with a little….convincing. Puppy eyes and promising more chocolates? He’ll eventually give in. But he also makes you promise to at least take it easy with the drinks.

* Grumpy hobo man may be a lil sassy but he means well!

Nightmare:

* He’s probably the only one who doesn’t see why the hell you like these drinks. It tastes like battery acid…..(says the guy drinking black coffee-). He didn’t really care at first but the MOMENT he sees how groggy you get? Oh you fucked up-

* He’s immediately hiding your stash and you WILL be scolded if you ask about it. And he’s dragging your ass to bed to make sure you get proper sleep. Right after he makes sure you are properly hydrated first.

* I can imagine even as his S/o, these moments can be quite unexpected but he was like…..mother henning you. And the way he stays by your side to make sure you’re ok makes your heart melt❤️

* Even the king of negativity can have a sweet side!

Cross (Lil bonus boi✨):

* Well he does like a few energy drinks himself especially for a game night or during morning training. He can drink as much as you without really realizing it then feels guilty about it but laughs it off.

* But it’s definitely a different story when he notices how sleepy you still are especially after the amount you drank. He gets a little concerned and asks if you’re okay. When he learns the energy drinks don’t work on you, he thought of a few ideas…..

* He looked for alternatives that could help you wake up much better. Like working out with him and eating a few healthier meals! But you both do have days to splurge on your favorite drink. It’s only fair!

* He didn’t want you to miss out on what you loved! So he helped you find a balance! He just loves you so!❤️

#my writing #self insert #undertale au #funny #fluff #undertale au x reader #sans x reader #the bad sanses #bad sanses x reader #undertale au headcanons #killer sans #dust sans #horror sans #murder time trio #nightmare sans #error sans #cross sans #request answered #reader is gender neutral

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meowmeowriley · 5 months

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Idea that's too short for an AO3 fic: Tactical Cuddling. (Is It Tactical Cuddling If There's No Tactical Need And It's Just Straight Up Cuddling?)

Side note- No but fuck you, I'll call this mini fic whatever I want.

established relationship, GhostxSoap, fluff Soap uses feminine terms of endearment and call Ghost his wife because I think it's funny.

Ghost had been on a long Op. Several weeks in the dark. No contact with his team, with his family, nothing. He was dirty, and exhausted as he trudged through the base. He'd debreifed with Price, after which he'd pulled out his phone and groaned.

"Something wrong, Ghost?" Price raised a brow.

"Bloody phone's dead. Just wanna talk to Johnny." He sighed in defeat. He'd charge the damn phone, then call his boyfriend ASAP, then he'd go to sleep. Knowing himself, he'd probably combine the last two, falling asleep to Johnny's voice was just so damn nice.

Price was smiling at him. "Stop by the sergeants quarters, say hi to the new guy, then get some rest. You've earned it." Damn Price and his push for camaraderie.

"The new guy?" He asked, exhaustion painting his words darkly. Or maybe it was disdain, he hated meeting new people, after all.

"You'd've known if your phone wasn't dead." Price dismissed him then Ghost kicked himself mentally again for forgetting to turn the damn thing off to save the battery.

Now, as he shuffled towards the Sergeants's room, he cursed the new guy for being between him and his room, and consequently, his ability to call Johnny. Nothing should stand between him and his Johnny. This man was already on his shit list. He'd be lucky if all he got out of Ghost was him flipping the man the bird. What Ghost really wanted to do was punch him in the face. The other sergeants were already afraid of him, might as well start the new guy off right.

He could hear Gaz talking as he approached, and started gearing up his best glare to send the way of the new guy whom Gaz was most likely talking to, but when he got to the doorway his legs and lungs stopped working simultaneously. There, across the room, was his beautiful beloved boyfriend. Johnny.

"Oh, sir, you're back! This is our new Sergeant, Soap." Gaz started to introduce, it fell on deaf ears.

Ghost jerked forward, barely keeping himself from running. With single minded focus he crossed the room. Johnny looked at him with a crooked grin, but he couldn't hide the worry in his eyes. Ghost knew he looked like shit, still fully kitted and filthy, but he didn't care. He collided with Johnny, crushing him in his embrace. A smaller man would've snapped like a twig. His momentum carried them both around and then down, falling gracelessly onto the bed that had been behind Johnny. Roach's bed, but who fucking cared? Not Ghost. "Simon!" Johnny grunted as he was pulled down on top of Ghost, then he chuckled as he accepted his fate.

"Missed you love, but why are you here?" Ghost asked. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, carding his fingers through Johnny's hair.

"Got transfered. I texted you?" Ghost could feel the man cock his head to the side.

"Phones dead." He grunted.

Johnny hummed and Ghost felt a kiss be pressed against his lips through the mask. "You know, I wasn't expecting to get tackled." He chuckled against Ghost's clothed lips.

"Wasn't a tackle. Was a hug, 'n then I decided to lay down." Both he and Johnny laughed at his cheek. Ghost thought himself pretty damn funny.

"I thought you said you had a wife?!" Gaz croaked. Right. They had an audience of two.

"Aww, you talked about me?" Ghost teased.

"I didn't give them your name, in case you wanted this a secret. Guess I didn't have to be worried." With his hand still on Johnny's head, Ghost felt him turn to look at Roach and Gaz as he spoke to them. "Aye, he's the wife." He turned back to Ghost. "Simon, hen, you're filthy. Let's get you changed, yeah?"

"M'fine. Lemme sleep, Johnny." Ghost was fighting nodding off, the comforting weight of Johnny on top of him was pushing him towards sleep.

"No, come on. Up." Johnny was pulling on his tac vest, climbing off the bed to pull him up. Ghost obliged with a huff, and finally opened his eyes again. Roach and Gaz were staring at the two of them with open mouths. "You should hear the shit they said about you, Simon." Johnny said with a grin, causing both the other men to blanch. He began meticulously removing Ghost's kit. Helmet first. Then vest.

"I'm sure most of it was true." Ghost yawned as he lifted his arms to allow Johnny access to the sides of his vest. As he sunk down to remove Ghost's holsters and knee pads he looked up at Ghost.

"Ye eat babies, love?" Those electric blue eyes danced with mirth.

"There's something I've been meanin' to tell you, Johnny." Ghost couldn't help the smile that spread as he joked. The mask hid it anyway.

Johnny gave a playful shove to his chest, then withdrew his hand and gave an experimental squeeze to his fist. Ghost knew his shirt was drenched with sweat, if they were still early in their relationship perhaps he would've been embarrassed. Right now, he was not. Johnny made quick work of his shoes. "Right, let's get you some new clothes as well."

"My room's too far." Ghost didn't whine. Wasn't capable of it. At least that's what he told himself.

"I've got plenty of your clothes here, hen." And sure enough, from his own bag, Johnny produced a shirt and a pair of underwear, both belonging to Ghost.

"Bloody thief." Ghost whispers as he allows Johnny to take his dirty shirt off him. He caught a whiff of it as it was pulled over his head, damn thing was mingin.

With the shirt out of his way Ghost could see their audience had the decency to turn around. Good. Johnny took his underwear next, and while he didn't mind changing in the same room as his sergeants, he didn't need them gawking at him. As soon as his underwear was in place, Ghost grabbed Johnny from behind and pulled him back down. He removed his mask and buried his face in Johnny's hair.

"Siiimooon." Johnny unabashedly whined. "This isn't my bed." Ghost looked up to see Roach shifting from foot to foot, looking at them.

'That's my bed, sir.' Roach signed fearfully. Ghost was aware. He glared over Johnny's head, snapped his fingers and pointed towards what was apparently Johnny's bed. Roach nodded and scrambled towards it.

"Arsehole." Johnny chided him. Ghost barely heard it. He hummed in response. He was comfortable, warm, not clean but at least stripped of his gear and dirty clothes. Only one thing left he really needed, other occupants of the room be damned.

"Johnny?" He mumbled sleepily.

"Aye, love?"

"Talk to me?"

And he did. Ghost could feel the rumble of Johnny's words through his arms, wrapped tightly around his love's chest. And he nodded off thinking about how nice it would be to have him around more.

#cod mw2 #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #fanfic #text post #established relationship #oneshot #idk man #I'd love to fall asleep to that man's voice

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apparently-artless · 29 days

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Spring Anime 2024 Watchlist

Kimetsu no Yaiba: Hashira Geiko-hen

Boku no Hero Academia Season 7

Kaiju No. 8

Kuroshitsuji: Kishuku Gakkou-hen

Yozakura-san Chi no Daisakusen

Wind Breaker

Kaii to Otome to Kamikakushi

Shinigami Bocchan to Kuro Maid Season 3

Sasayaku You ni Koi wo Utau

Ookami to Koushinryou: Merchant Meets the Wise Wolf

Astro Note

Tadaima, Okaeri

Henjin no Salad Bowl

Tonari no Youkai-san

Hananoi-kun to Koi no Yamai

I will also check these out:

Boukyaku Battery

Touken Ranbu Kai: Kyoden Moyuru Honnouji

Kenka Dokugaku (Viral Hit)

Karasu wa Aruji wo Erabanai

Request will be open for these series and limited to:

Icons (indicate circular/square)

Character gifset per episode

Specific scenes in a certain episode (with/without dialogue)

NOTE: ANYONE CAN SEND THEIR REQUEST SO LONG AS IT'S NOT ANON.

#kimetsu no yaiba #boku no hero academia #kaiju no. 8 #kuroshitsuji #yozakura san chi no daisakusen #wind breaker #kaii to otome to kamikakushi #shinigami bocchan to kuro maid #sasayaku you ni koi wo utau #ookami to koushinryou #astro notes #tadaima okaeri #henjin no salad bowl #tonari no youkai san #hananoi kun to koi no yamai #anime #spring anime 2024 #nonedit #ongoinganimeeditrequest

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deweydecimalchickens · 9 months

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Nyx is doing great on her implant! She's covered in feather spikes!

Fluffy the Terrible is not doing so great on Nyx's implant.

Fluffy is specifically terrible at being a chicken. They don't have a standard dominance hierarchy, because:

a) chicken dominance is established by pecking heads and jumping on each other, and Fluffy is HUGE, so nobody else can reach, but

b) Fluffy doesn't know how to do anything and the few times she's been left without a smarter chicken to copy she's just ended up sitting in the overturned dust bath (see above re: HUGE), beeping sadly to herself.

Nyx is basically her assistance chicken. So Nyx's reduced appetite and activity following her artificial henopause has left Fluffy at a bit of a loose end and needing a lot of gentle encouragement from me.

#Pet chickens #ex battery hens #Dinosaur friends #Miss Baryonyx Chicken #Fluffy the Terrible #636.5

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grizzersmamma · 1 year

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One Surprise, Two Surprise | König x F!Reader

Summary: König has been away for months and is eager to get back home to you, only you have a couple of surprises for him.

Notes: @lethalchiralium and their Happiness AU has me out here acting like a broody hen 😭 I’m also a sucker for the trope of “partner goes away for an extended period and comes back to a whole ass baby having been born”, so this is inspired by that too. Absolutely recommend their fics, so go read them if you haven’t already! My family has the twin gene quite prominently, so König gets two babies for the price of one 👉👉

Pairing: König x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Pregnancy Implied, Infants.

Series Masterlist: Here

CoD Masterlist: Here

Next: Here

It’s been almost ten months since König has last been home. His deployment with KorTac had been keeping him constantly on the move, constantly taking mission after mission with little to no reprieve. To make matters worse, there had been a strict no-contact rule in place for the entire duration of his deployment thanks to the sensitivity of the missions.

Ten months, only two short of a whole year without seeing you. Without holding you in his arms. Without so much as hearing your voice.

It was agonising, knowing that he could have been curled up in your shared bed together rather than trudging from safe house to safe house. He had never known a true longing for home until he’d met you – normally he couldn’t wait to be sent off to some godforsaken forest or desert in the middle of who-knows-where, enjoying the isolation – but now, his skin had begun to feel like it was crawling, searching out the gentle touch you always offered.

Sleeping was difficult on a good day, never quite feeling safe enough to lower his guard. After spending so much time with you, however, he found his arms automatically trying to seek out your body in his sleep, needing to know you were there for his brain to calm. Sadly, he was only ever met with cold sheets at best, and at worst he would end up grabbing at poor Horangi when they were forced to share a bunk.

Fortunately, Horangi didn’t seem to care too much, simply slapping at whatever offending limb had slid into his personal space and going back to sleep again. That didn’t stop König from apologising in the morning, relieved when his squad mate would just lazily wave him off.

But finally, he’d arrived back on Austrian soil, able to take in a deep breath of frigid air the moment he stepped off the plane. It was early afternoon, the sun hitting the snow at just the right angle for it to sparkle. Within a few weeks the ice would all be gone and spring would be in full swing, bringing with it some much needed warmth.

König pulls his jacket a little tighter in response to the chill, deciding that he’s admired the view long enough and refocusing on getting home.

He collects his personal items from the locker where they’re housed during deployment, switching on his phone. It’s an old Nokia, used purely for receiving texts and phone calls while working, while his personal one is kept safe at home with you. It takes a while to finally boot up, clinging on with a measly 3% of its battery, but it’s enough for it to load the few messages he’d missed while abroad.

There are the usual messages, generally wishing him luck, telling him that he was in your thoughts, simple ‘good morning’s and ‘good night’s scattered throughout randomly. The second to last, however, is different from the rest, a request for König to call you as soon as possible.

His brain is quick to offer up a handful of the worst-case scenarios – maybe you'd gotten hurt while he was away, or perhaps you’d grown tired of his lack of presence and decided to call it quits – but after glancing at the next message he finds himself calming again. The last text was sent just over two months ago, telling him to disregard the previous message and to meet you at his oma’s home when he returned, that you had some sort of surprise for him.

Odd that you would choose for him to go there rather than the small home the two of you occupied, but König refused to let his worries spiral. You got on well with his oma, much to König’s delight, and she had been a huge help, considering you had no close family living nearby. The moment he had introduced you to his grandmother, the woman immediately decided you were perfect, taking you under her wing as one of her own. She was absolutely delighted to finally have a granddaughter to dote on and pass all of her family knowledge to.

König had attempted to stop his grandmother from smothering you completely, lest his girlfriend be scared off after only the first meeting, but to his relief you’d told him you already adored the older woman and looked forward to seeing her again. His heart turns into mush every time he sees his two favourite women spending time together. Even if that time is spent with his oma telling you all sorts of embarrassing stories from König’s youth.

The drive to his grandmother’s house is fortunately rather short, and within an hour of touching down on the runway he’s already arriving. König ensures to remove the simple balaclava he’d been wearing on base, knowing from experience that his oma doesn’t appreciate him “looking like he’s about the rob the place” when he arrives.

After gathering up his belongings, König gently raps on the glass of his grandmother’s front door. He could hear soft voices inside, but they quiet the moment his knocking rings out, leaving him stood in silence while he waits for someone to answer.

It’s his oma who opens the door, gasping out his name joyfully, before wrapping her arms around his middle in a bone crushing hug. It’s impressive, really, that a woman of her stature and age is somehow still strong enough to hold him tight enough that all the wind is driven from his lungs. “Hallo, oma,” he smiles, giving her a gentle squeeze in return.

“Mien lieber Enkle, wo bist du gewesen?!” She demands, pulling back from König, only to grab his hand and begin dragging him into the warm house.

“Ich war arbeiten,” he mumbles back, but is ignored as his grandmother deposits him in the living room.

König’s eyes zero in on you in mere moments, unable to resist the soft look that crosses his face, nor the way his shoulders droop. It’s as though a massive weight has been pulled from his shoulders, even more so when you near enough throw yourself into his arms, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck so you can pull him down toward you.

He meets you in a tender peck which quickly devolves into a more desperate kiss, eager to make up for lost time. It’s only the awareness of where the two of you are that stops König from escalating from loving smooches and taking you right then and there. “I missed you, mein Vögelchen,” he breathes, nosing at the side of your face.

“I missed you too, mein König,” the grin you give him is nothing short of playful, but that doesn’t hide the clear signs of exhaustion on your face.

König’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, gently encouraging you to release your hold on him so he can look at you more closely. “Are you alright?” he asks, his gloved thumbs softly caressing your cheeks as he takes in the large bags under your eyes.

“Your surprise kept me awake,” you laugh, taking König’s hands into your own.

“Surprise?” He had almost forgotten about the surprise you had mentioned in your text, blinking in confusion, “what kind of surprise would-” He cuts himself off when his oma comes back into the room – he hadn’t even noticed her leaving, too focused on you – his voice flees him at the sight. A tiny little creature is nuzzled into the older woman’s chest. A baby, his brain belatedly supplies for him.

“Where- Who- Wha-” König blinks once again, unable to process what he was looking at for a long moment. “A baby?” he whispers, breathlessly, his heart racing as he turns to look at you.

You laugh again at his stunned reaction, gently guiding him closer to the tiny boy. “Say hello to your son,” you smile, watching as he reaches out a hand to caress the infant’s face. His hand is huge compared to the baby and it’s amazing to him that he could ever create something so small and fragile. He’s spilled enough blood in his life that he was certain he’d been stained by it, yet here this child is, completely untainted by the horrors of the world. “His name is Lukas. I remember you saying you thought it would be a cute name,” you add softly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He reaches for Lukas, his oma helping him to lift the child from her, showing him exactly how to hold the infant so his head is properly supported. His arms are shaking, despite how light the baby feels, the weight of this new responsibility, this whole new person who is relying on him, leaving him feeling weak at the knees.

“Hallo, Lukas,” König murmurs, pressing his lips to the top of his son’s forehead. The infant’s little face screws up at the disturbance, eyes blinking open to gaze at his father with the exact same pair of blue eyes. There’s a grumpy pout on the child’s face, but it’s smoothed away with an impressively large yawn only moments later.

“He’s perfect.” König can feel his throat tightening up, eyes threatening to fill with tears. He supposes that meeting his son for the first time is an understandable reason for crying – there's no need to keep up any appearances here, surrounded only by family – he's more than happy to shed a few tears while he presses feather-light kisses to Lukas’ face.

Lukas reaches out, placing his tiny hands against König’s cheeks with a curious little coo. He seems to be entirely unphased by his father’s shaking breaths and damp eyes, too focused on the smile he was being offered.

“I’m glad you liked your surprise,” you say, curling into König’s side and gazing down at your son, “are you ready for your next one?”

König’s head shoots up, staring at you wide-eyed. “My next one?” he chokes out, “y-you don’t mean...”

He sees you biting down on your bottom lip to try and keep the grin from completely taking over your features, unsure if he should be horrified or excited when you turn around and wander into one of the spare bedrooms. “Schatz, no,” he gasps, only able to stand there, gaping like an idiot when you return moments later with a second child in your arms.

"Keine Chance! There are two of them?!” König’s voice has taken a slightly higher pitch, gripping at the sofa beside him to keep himself from toppling right over. His outburst startles Lukas enough for the baby to whimper, bottom lip poking out and wabbling dangerously. “Ah, sorry, mein leiber,” he quickly shushes, swaying to try and calm his child.

“Here’s your little girl, Anna,” you coo, bringing the second baby close enough for König to see.

“Anna...” he repeats, staring down at his daughter in amazement, looking at her pretty eyes, exactly the same as her mother’s. “We have two children, mein Vögelchen,” he wheezes, slowly slipping down to sit on the couch, his legs no longer able to hold him. He knows he told you he hoped to have a family one day, a couple of children and some dogs or cats, but to have two children in one go?

The realisation hits him like a slap to the face. You had been here alone, carrying not one but two children, and then had to give birth to them. His oma was here for you, of course, but there’s only so much one elderly woman can do to help.

König should’ve been there to help you throughout the entire process. He should’ve been there when you found out you were pregnant, when you went in for scans, when you found out there would be two of them, and when you found out there would be both a little boy and a little girl entering the world. Instead, he had been overseas, fighting enemies, while you were taking on your own battle by yourself.

With his free hand, König reaches out to take one of yours, giving it a soft squeeze. “Liebling, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he breathes, pressing your hand to his forehead as he seeks your forgiveness. He would be on his knees, grovelling, if it weren’t for the tiny child currently attempting to reach for his face again.

“No, none of that,” you shake your head, removing your hand from his grip and instead cupping the side of König’s face, “you didn’t know, there’s no way you could have.” You sit yourself down beside him on the sofa, crowding in nice and close so the two of you can be pressed together.

He wants to argue, entirely convinced you should be angry at the very least, but now isn’t the time for it, not when this should be a perfect movement between the two of you and your children. So instead, he says, “thank you, mein süßer Vogel,” placing a kiss against Lukas’ head, allowing the boy to hold his finger as he then leans over to kiss Anna. “I love you,” he breathes, finally offering you a kiss.

“I love you too,” you hum back, staring into his eyes.

A moment later, Lukas lets out an upset wail, breaking you both from your interlocked gaze. His loud shrieking causes his sister to whimper, awoken from her slumber and most displeased about it.

“Time for these two to be fed,” you huff, briefly letting the exhaustion catch back up to you.

König quickly stands, holding out his hand to pull you to your feet. “You can show me how to feed them so I can help, ja?” he asks, eager to take at least some of the work from you. He’s only just returned from months abroad and is tired beyond belief, but this is his responsibility now, and it’s one he is more than happy to take on. He’s already missed almost two months of his children’s lives and he has a lifetime of making it up to you for being away so long.

No doubt you will disagree with him.

You walk to the kitchen together, König wrapping his free arm around your waist to keep you close.

He needs to discuss what the two of you are going to do going forward, especially regarding his work now that he more important things to concern himself with. There’s no way he’s going to leave for another deployment, not for a good while after this. All he wants to focus on is spending time with his son, his daughter and the love of his life.

Translations

“Mien lieber Enkle, wo bist du gewesen?!” | “My dear grandson, where have you been?!”

“Ich war arbeiten,” | “I was working,”

“I missed you, mein Vögelchen,” | “I missed you, my littlie bird,”

“I missed you too, mein König,” | “I missed you too, my king,”

“Schatz, no,” | “Treasure/Darling, no,”

"Keine Chance! There are two of them?!” | “No way! There are two of them?!”

“Ah, sorry, mein leiber,” | “Ah, sorry, my dear,”

“We have two children, mein Vögelchen,” | We have two children, my little bird,”

“thank you, mein süßer Vogel,” | “thank you, my sweet bird,”

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #könig call of duty #konig x reader #konig x y/n #konig x you #the best time for posting fic is 3am #so here we are again

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