#nicky your allergic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

irisbleufic · 17 days

Note

YOUR 3 CATS ARE SO CUTE OMG! How old are they/what are their stories?

Like many young-ish queer married couples, @one-eyed-bossman and I entered the fast track to pet parenthood in 2020. I was still recovering from extensive cancer treatment at the time, which is part of what makes our first kitty especially meaningful to me.

ZEL

Zel is my darling girl. She’s now 5 years old, and when we adopted her in June of 2020, she was already 1 year old. After being rescued on the streets at a few weeks old with her two personable siblings, she spent an entire year at this lady’s house with like 20 other cats at any given time. She was feral and unapproachable, but somehow I was able to get close enough to her at the rescue to pick her up and put her in the carrier. She nailed me with her claws in the process, but that’s the only time she’s ever hurt me or anyone else. The day after we got her home, I stuck my hand behind the bed in her safe room, and she set her little paw square in my palm and left it there for about a minute. I spent a couple of months crawling halfway under the bed to pet her while she was curled in her bed, and eventually I could get her to follow me around the house by asking, “Do you want to go for a walk?” She barely left my side after that. I spent a lot of 2020 sick in bed; she always curled up snugly between my ankles or my knees. She’s now the smartest cat I’ve ever met. Her language recognition shocks me even after 4 years of having her as a silly little shadow who likes to play fetch with her pink-eared mouse toy. She’s stuck to my side any time I’m on the sofa, and about a month ago she climbed fully in my lap for the first time. Her meow is barely a whisper when she does use it (only to talk to me and occasionally to the TV), but the trills, squeaks, and yowls she makes to talk to her toys are hilarious. She doesn’t even talk to her siblings like that. Unlike many white cats, she is not deaf.

NICKY

We got Nicky a year after we got Zel; he was about 8 weeks old when we brought him home in June of 2021. We met a kind lady who periodically bred her lovely Bengal queens, and Nicky was somehow a “non-show-quality” (?!!) discount kitten. He’s sweet, goofy, vocal, afraid of everything/everyone that’s outside the house, and occasionally very naughty. We hoped he would bring Zel the rest of the way out of her shell, and it worked. He just adored her from day one. She took a few months to warm up to him, but they bonded pretty fast. Now, at 3 years old, he’s a big boy—17 pounds. He likes to stand/sit on laps more than he likes to lie down in them, although he will lie down in mine a couple times a week. He brings me granola bars from the cupboard and loves trash more than he likes his toys:

EMBER

We hadn’t planned on a third cat, but the universe insisted. I mean that quite literally. On 31 July 2022, my mother died at my sister’s place a couple of states away. The morning she died, me and my four siblings took a walk around my sister’s neighborhood. We split up and went slightly different ways; my sister and her husband called me as I was getting back to the house to say that a tiny, tiny crying kitten had run out of the bushes toward them. My sister didn’t know what to do; one of my nieces is very allergic, and we were all burnt-out from dealing with Mom’s passing and the funeral home taking away her body. I told her to bring the kitten back to the house, because I was too grief-stricken to let another thing die that day. Out on the porch, I fed her milk from one of the droppers we were using to give my mom morphine, all the while making desperate phone calls to local rescues. After about 3 hours, a local vet with specialty in caring for bottle baby kittens came to pick her up. She told me that, because I didn’t live too far away in the grand scheme of things, she could foster the baby until she was old enough for me to arrange transport to my home state. There was no way I could walk away from that little baby, so I got regular photos, videos, and updates from her foster mom until I could arrange transport about 5 months later (she came home in December of 2022). She has grown up to be the feistiest tortie I’ve ever met. She has far longer hair than I ever could have guessed, and even now that she’s 1.5 years old, she has very short legs (longer end of munchkin, our vet says!) and an overall smaller stature than her siblings. She fucking adores Nicky, and he has never once played too rough for her given the size disparity. He lets her chase him, jump on him, bap him into play fights, etc. She will cry and cry at night if we don’t pick her up and carry her around before we close the bedroom doors (they get to sleep in the bedroom sometimes, but not always; Nicky likes to knock picture frames off the wall in there, and I’m not about exposing them to broken glass).

#nicky and zel #zel and nicky #ember #cats of tumblr #rescue cats

118 notes · View notes

exy-shmexy · 1 year

Text

Some more wholesome Twinyards for you

Aaron is alone at the library in the (very) late evening studying for an upcoming biochemistry exam. It's a random Tuesday. Aaron is startled by Andrew quietly dropping down on the chair in front of him. He blinks, wondering what the hell his chronically-allergic-to-libraries twin is doing here.

Andrew silently reaches into his backpack—an old discolored black thing Nicky got him when they started high school—and gets his own books out of it as if it were the most normal thing. He pushes Aaron's laptop slightly to the side with a corner of his textbook.

Aaron is too stunned to say anything.

He just watches Andrew splay an array of annotated papers in front of him, settling into his own homework session.

"What are you doing?" Aaron finally manages to ask after a long stretch of silence.

Andrew lifts his head, usual boredom plastered on his face. "Studying."

"You never come here."

Andrew shrugs. Aaron knows it's the end of the conversation because Andrew lowers his head and begins scribbling more notes down as he goes through his set of mandatory readings. Aaron stares, frowning. He tries to get back to his own biochemistry notes, but his brain has decided to stop working.

Andrew should be with Kevin and Neil for their usual evening practice session.

But then it hits him.

"You were listening?" he asks. Andrew looks up again, one eyebrow raised. "The other night, when I was talking with Matt," Aaron continues. "I told him Katelyn would be away for the week with the other cheerleaders. You heard us?"

Andrew sighs in what Aaron is now certain is feigned annoyance. "You don't like studying on your own, you can't focus if there isn't someone else with you."

Aaron blinks. "So you came here to... keep me company?"

"Neil and Kevin are being intolerable Exy junkies together. Nicky is out with Matt and Dan. Renee is... busy with Allison. Unless you made some friends on the football team no one knows about, which is highly unlikely considering you punched one of them—"

"He deserved it."

"—then I don't think there was any other option. Don't overthink it. I just couldn't stand the stickball fanatics a minute longer." And with that Andrew dives back into his coursework.

Aaron is smiling so big it's actually embarrassing. He clears his throat, knowing perfectly well Andrew didn't mean the last part of his statement because he never does anything he doesn't want to do. Andrew is with him because he knows Aaron can't stay focused ifhe doesn't have someone to study with. Usually it's Katelyn, but Katelyn isn't there.

Andrew is.

Aaron goes back to his intercellular communication notes. He loses track of time, and quickly forgets how long they stay in the library together. Once Aaron declares he's done for the night (having noticed Andrew had been done for a whole half hour and was busy getting ahead of his notes), he asks him if he wants to go to the sandwich place close by. His gift. Andrew accepts. They go together, and spend another hour together. They don't talk a lot, but the shared companionship is enough.

When the next Tuesday arrives and Andrew shows up again instead of Katelyn, Aaron is more than happy to clear up some space for his brother at the desk.

When he learns about this, Neil secretly tells Katelyn to give them one evening together away from everyone every week and she graciously accepts

#oh no I'm back with more twinyards because they haunt all my thoughts #I just love them so much I can't help it #which I'm okay with but I also believe they have to really start somewhere #and we all know Andrew pays more attention than he lets on #so yeah anyway I hope y'all have a great Sunday #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #twinyards #aftg #aftg headcanon

646 notes · View notes

inezs-believable-stories · 2 months

Text

my personal aftg headcannons as an athlete

neil suffers from chronic shin splints, since we never see this boy change into running shoes, (and even if he did they’d probably be years old and be hanging on by a thread) i like to think that his shins are just constantly in pain

aaron, being a med student, is probably the first person the foxes go to when something hurts. aaron likes to pretend that he doesn’t care about their aches but occasionally he’ll recommend specific stretches to some of them. “hey my knee has rlly been hurting when i run” -“wtf do you want me to do about that…try stretching your hamstrings befor complaining”

dan carries multiple rollers in her practice bag. at first it was just for her but then the girls would occasionally borrow it, and then matt, then the monsters made themselves welcome to using it so she started carrying multiple for them all to use at the same time.

allison probably has some rlly expensive massage guns for the same reason as dan but she denies that she was thinking about the rest of the team when she bought them all

renee, aaron, nicky, dan, and matt are all bio freeze people and neil, kevin, andrew, and allison are all icy hot for life

the one time nicky used icy hot he thought it was just supposed to get cold like bio freeze and so he thought he was having an allergic reaction when it started burning

renee is the designated kt-tape person when abby isn’t around since she’s the only one that can apply it good enough that it will last a week and properly work

renee and allison will either do matching french braids or bubble braids for games and they take turns braiding each others hair

the foxes convinced wymack and abby to host team pasta dinners the night before home games so the they can get in their carb load in and have a “team bonding activity”

#these are all my sane an normal hc but i rlly wanna make a post for my deranged ones #these are also all basically cannon because i said so #the foxhole court #all for the game #aftg #the raven king #the kings men #neil josten #aaron minyard #andrew minyard #kevin day

131 notes · View notes

ronearoundblindly · 11 months

Text

Hit By Fate

a Steve Rogers x Reader life lesson

[This is my own entry for my 1-1-1 Challenge, but also is a very belated gift fic for @itickledthesleepingdragon. May we all remember that we are worth care and consideration!💜] WC 2365

Recommended links: Habibi Through The Years--The Old Guard fandom, Joe/Nicky (Ao3) Invaluable--Star Wars fandom, dad!Obi-Wan

Summary: It's just an accident, and you're totally fine. One handsome man, however, does not agree.

It’s not their fault; it’s just bad luck.

You should have texted to confirm this morning, but since Syd told you she’d text you if anything changed, you didn’t want to pry. Your friends make enough fun of you already for never coming out. You didn’t want to give them one more story in their long list of times you bailed. They already think you’re allergic to fun, so tonight you were going to show them.

You’d rushed to the restaurant after work. You even woke up early to do your hair before work so that you’d still look nice. You brought a purse to transfer your wallet and keys and makeup into so as not to carry your much larger work bag around. You even drank less water the entire afternoon so you wouldn’t be rushing to the restroom and slowing down your cross-city commute.

But then you arrived and there was no reservation.

Not under anyone’s name.

The hostess seemed outstandingly indifferent to your situation. You stepped aside for other patrons, sneaking peeks through the wonky glass dividers to catch a glimpse of your friends at a table maybe, and you texted one.

>>Hey.

<<Whaddup? Tiff replies.

>>You guys here yet?

<<Where?

You give the name of the restaurant and feel your guts crash to the polished wood floor.

<<We were there earlier. Yeah. Why?

Your hands start to shake with anxiety and a touch of rage.

>>I thought we were meeting at 7

The dots show up and disappear. The hostess huffs, staring at you while striking through a line on her paper. You’re blocking one of four total doors to enter the building, but apparently, that’s still taking up too much space.

<<Syd and Karol got off at 4 so we just had drinks early

<<TGIF

<<On a pub crawl now

They know you still work tomorrow. They know you likely would barely drink at dinner. You know exactly why no one would bother asking you if you could get out of work early, and you know they would not try any spontaneous fun for your first time out in months. They didn’t ask because they knew you’d say ‘no,’ or even worse, they knew you’d say ‘yes’ but be uncomfortable the entire time.

You try to call Syd, a last-ditch effort to get a lock on just how drunk or how far away they are. You tell yourself that if they are close and seem relatively coherent (and if the bar serves some small plates of something because you are hungry) then you’ll go. You will absolutely go.

Syd doesn’t pick up. You try Karol. No dice.

Fine. You turn to ask the hostess if there is space at the bar to eat, but she looks at you with such annoyance and a raised finger while she handles a couple who clearly out-rank you in some way.

Defeated, you leave instead.

This whole thing has taken so little time that you’d have to wait another ten minutes for the next bus back. You just walk, staring down at your phone, willing one of them to talk to the other, willing one of them to realize they’ve left you behind.

Do they even care that they’ve done it? Are they even your friends anymore?

The sad part is that you don’t go out much, but these are the friends you go out with the most. It just so happens that’s a few times a year, and that is you trying. This is you pushing yourself.

It’s not good enough.

Just as the WALK sign lights up at the street corner, the dots show back up under Syd’s message, and you shove it closer to your face.

You don’t see it coming.

A cab’s bumper smacks your left leg and bats you sideways. The solid hit feels like a tumble on the ice rink. It spins you, your phone flying out of your hands, and you’re scrambling not to fall. Your muscles tense every which way that’s not natural, probably looking klutzy.

You shoot back up too fast and look around, wondering if people are staring at you now, but the few other people crossing simply walk on by.

The cabbie only rolls down his window.

“You okay?”

Not actively concerned. Not getting out of the car. Not even apologizing.

But if you’d kept walking, you’d be across already. If you weren’t just standing there, the cab would be able to turn and so would the several others behind him.

One honks.

“Fine,” you say quietly, waving him on for emphasis and stepping back to find your phone.

All the effort of the day, all the preparation mentally and physically, and you are stranded on the wrong side of the road, exactly where you started, metaphorically and near-actually run over.

You have to crouch down by the curb and pray your phone didn’t slide into the gutter, wincing at a particular angle that shoots pain up your left thigh. Maybe you aren’t fine.

“Miss?” a tentative, low voice calls above a classic pair of Converses on the sidewalk. “Think this is yours.”

A man in glasses and a ball cap hands your phone back, the screen mercifully intact.

It’s such a tiny blessing in this string of unfortunate events.

The breath you take turns into a whimper and ends in a sniffle. Tears sting your eyes as you start to think about what happened—what really happened—in the past minute.

“Thank you,” you choke out, snatching the device. The gesture seems aggressive after the fact. “Sorry. Thank you,” you try again.

“You okay?” How the same two words can sound so different from two people, you’ll never know, but the difference floors you harder than the car’s impact.

With the utmost care, the stranger’s hands lightly touch your shoulders and guide you out of the road.

“I’m fine.” You’re an automated recording, retreating to a quiet and lonelier space in your mind. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You got hit by a car,” he says bluntly.

“No, just a—“ you look up into the man’s face, his blond hair, his blue eyes, his strong jaw, his height “—graze.”

“Yeah, you got grazed by four thousand pounds.”

“You’re…” All you can do is point at Captain America’s chest and blink.

He frowns and whispers. “You recognize me?”

Somehow that’s the strange part?

“Shoot. The glasses usually work. Don’t…please don’t make a big deal, but I…I’m sorry I couldn’t pull you out of the way.”

Steve Rogers buries his hands in his jean pockets, folding himself more into the cover of his hoodie and leather jacket.

“You wanted to help me?” you croak.

He ticks his head in confusion, respectfully indicating that you’ve asked the one and only dumb question known to mankind.

“Why?”

You don’t even know what you’re asking about now. Why me? Why today? Why now? Why not? You don’t notice your hands are shaking until he grips them gently.

“I can take you to the hospital,” he offers.

“I’m fine.” The repeat earns you another frown. “I’m not…hurting,” you clarify.

“That’s called shock, sweetheart.”

Steve seems to catch himself and sighs.

“Sorry. What I mean to say is let’s find you some water and somewhere to sit, okay? I’ll check you out then.”

You nod immediately. He’s only half-turned when Steve spins back around.

“Not check you out check you out,” he mumbles, “just like a once over. No, not…” he sighs harder. “I am going to make sure you are alright.” Every word is strategically emphasized.

He leads you to the nearest bench. His head stays down the entire way to a newspaper stand to buy you a bottle of water.

You can tell by the way Steve monitors every move of the bottle to your lips that he fights doing it for you. From his overly attentive posture, you’re surprised he waits a whole minute to ask how you feel yet again.

Still stunned, honestly, but it’s not just your left leg that aches, it’s your whole body. That seems too pathetic to admit aloud, but if you say the ‘fine’-word one more time, he’ll surely carry you to the dang ER. He has that look.

Instead, you admit, “I’m hungry.”

A smile blossoms over his features. “I can help with that.”

The boyish glee with which Steve Rogers walks you (gingerly) to a nearby, hole-in-the-wall pizza parlor is endearing. You’re not a patient for those minutes, and when he orders for you both (there are three lines on the board and that’s the menu) while you claim a teeny tiny booth, you’re not a victim of your day.

When he tells you how he found this place originally, how it’s almost like the pizza he remembers from long ago but better, you’re not alone anymore.

“Were you going to get food when…” Steve trails off.

Maybe it’s the shock wearing too thin to mask the rest. Maybe it’s the hot cheese warming your insides and melting your anger. You spend the next ten minutes blabbing about what happened with your friends and explaining what you were doing when the cab hit you.

“So you weren’t even okay before the car?”

His words throw you for a loop.

“No, I mean, it was just a misunder—“

“You’re doing it again,” he cuts in. “You’re diminishing you in the picture.”

You take a long swig of your soda while staring blankly at him. You watch Steve realize you aren’t even going to impose on him for an explanation. He drops his slice on the plate and holds out his huge hands as props.

“The whole picture of your day, right?” His arms are wide, then he points at things on the table. “You told me about Syd and why it’s ‘fine’ that she changed plans for her own convenience. About Tiffany and Carly—“

“Karol,” you sputter mid-sip.

“Carol, right, sorry. Everyone has a -y in their names now. I just assumed.”

“Karol with a -k,” you add.

Steve…ponders whether that’s some sort of joke before waving his hands to regroup. “You told me how your other friends—using that term loosely—rationalize leaving you to eat or even navigate the city alone—“

“I don’t need a chaperone.”

“Debatable,” he chuckles. “And then you tell me about how the cab driver probably didn’t need the hassle of dealing with some minor injury he inflicted on—and I quote—‘someone.’”

His eyebrow pops up over the rim of his glasses as if that will drive his point home, but you’ve got nothing.

“Where are you in the picture?” he finally blurts. “It’s your time and your effort and your body and your safety, and you just told me everyone else is more important. They all deserve consideration before you in your own life. Including some driver who could have killed you!”

He’s getting visibly agitated the more he talks, and you shrink in the seat, not out of fear but out of guilt for taking an evening of Captain America’s time to yourself. If your friends couldn’t even stand to spend a meal with you, it makes sense that Steve would be annoyed with your company.

“Wait, there,” he points directly at your face, “what was that thought? What did you just think?”

“I—I’m sorry I—“

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Steve asks bluntly.

He must see your eyes glisten with more unshed tears because his whole body visibly softens.

“You showed up at the place you all agreed on—“ he counts on his fingers “—at the time you were told, and walked across a street with right of way.” He does what you are beginning to think of as his signature sigh. “Am I missing something?”

All you can do is chew on your bottom lip.

It takes you what feels like an eternity to notice. “I could have really been hurt,” you mumble finally. “That’s not okay.”

Steve stretches his long arm across the tiny table, opening his palm to await yours.

“I hate to tell you this. You don’t have to be torn open to be ‘really hurt,’ sweetheart.” This time he says the nickname with firm intention. He squeezes your hand. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d come to the infirmary with me and get some industrial-grade salve on what’s sure to be a nasty bruise.”

You smile sadly, still pushing away errant thoughts that you’re imposing on the Captain.

“And by the time that’s over…it’ll be time for a late-night dessert before I take you home.”

In the fluorescent light, you can see him blush fiercely.

“As an escort—escort you,” he corrects, “to your door, I mean. For safety.”

He shrugs uncomfortably to adjust his layers of disguise, hanging his head, this time to hide his face from you.

“If you ever wondered why I’d go out to pizza alone,” Steve whispers, “wonder no longer.”

He scoots across his side of the booth to stand.

You think for a long moment.

This is important. This is one of the most important men in the country—nay, the world—begging you to be the protagonist in your own life. He wants you to want that.

You deposit the last grease-crumpled napkin onto the stacked plates and clear your throat. “I like this picture,” you say first, but it’s not enough. It’s not loud enough. It doesn’t hold weight or take up its due space.

You try again.

“I like being in this picture.”

He’s tall and his gleaming white teeth are perfect and his bright blue eyes are framed by long lashes and he’s staring right at you. How could you not shoot your shot?

“I’d—“ you fight the urge to look away “—consider seeing a sequel, too.”

Steve pushes up his fake glasses and nods, still pink in the cheeks. His hesitation reads as shy, not polite, not dutiful.

He juts out an average, hoodie-covered elbow for you to balance on.

“S’pose that means I should know your name, miss, and what your favorite flavor of ice cream is.”

Ro's 1-1-1 Challenge Details

A/N: In case you were wondering, the life lesson I wrote Steve Rogers teaching us is one that I constantly struggle with, too. This is an everyday, uphill battle to recognize our own worth and know that taking care of ourselves is not selfish. I hope this serves as a wee reminder!

Taglist: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#Ro's 1-1-1 Challenge #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america angst #captain america fluff

273 notes · View notes

aki-draws-things · 6 months

Text

Whumptober 2023~

Fandom: top gun

Characters: Ron slider Kerner, Nick Goose Bradshaw, tom iceman Kazansky

Prompts: captivity

Warning: Dark goose, captivity, locked in a room kinda left to die, omegaverse of some sort

Summary: Ron made a mistake when he allowed tom to kiss him, nick makes sure he know his place as an omega.

@oh-surprise-its-me

One of The omegaverse bits translated!!

Ron whined.

It was such a pathetic sound, so so damn pathetic. Worse than a pup. And he was not a pup. (Had he ever been one? Truly?)

The door opened slightly, letting in a pale ray of light, Ron curled up on himself against the opposite wall. Light made his eyes sting.

Oh. Oh, perhaps he was allergic to light all of sudden? If that was it then his Nicky had locked him there, in that room without windows, to keep him safe, because the light would hurt him and his Nicky loved him.

"Hey sweetheart."

Ron breathed deeply, he let Nick's smell fill his lungs and senses. His hands were cool on his warm, almost feverish skin. Ron looked up with lingering eyes. He let out a slow, soft moan from dry lips. Nick smiled at the sound.

His Nick was so good and sweet with him, so careful. He brought a water bottle to his lips, water dripping down his chin and ruined uniform, but it wasn't Nicky's fault, it was him forgetting how to drink.

Ron moaned again, tears stinging at the side of his eyes as he coughed the little water he managed to get down.

"Easy, easy sweetheart, we don't want you to choke on it, right?"

Ron shook his head. With a sweet caress with the hand that Ron felt so desperate to follow, Nick moved away. he took the bottle with him. Ron was still thirsty but he kept quiet. His Nicky surely knew what was best for him, as always.

Nick sighed.

"You'll have to stay here a little longer. Sweetie, it's for your own good, that alpha is dangerous, and we don't want you to be in danger, do we?"

Ron quickly shook his head. He wanted to tell him that Tommy wasn't as dangerous as Nick painted him, he had even been kind and accompanied him back home. Ron liked Tommy, but Nicky didn't, so Ron couldn't like him.

"You still stink of him."

Nick growled and Ron shrugged off of the white uniform with wide, fearful eyes. He had liked that uniform, so white and soft.

Tommy said that soon he would've pinned the wings on it too, and they would fly together.

"Nicky will never let me... but I'd like it..." he had said, sinking his nose on Tom's neck, Tom's hands were in his hair.

"He'll have to, he doesn't own you, sunshine."

Oh, but it wasn't true.Ron didn't say it, he moaned against his neck and Tom laughed before kissing him.

Nick stared at him, the uniform discarded on the floor, Ron's body naked before him. It would take one single step to take him. One step and that stupid, pathetic omega would remember who he belonged to.

But no, he wasn't in the right mood. Sure he liked his body just fine, and he liked the way ron moved under his hand. But with that smell on him... ugh, no. Just no.

He kicked the clothes in a corner and turned on his heels, opened the door, and left.

Ron didn't know how long ago that had been, time was weird. He knew he was thirsty. And he knew his stomach stopped growling in hunger and just hurt from cramps.

The door opened again and he squeezed his eyes shut, covering them with his hands.

Whoever, Nick?, it was he didn't close it, light filtered inside. His eyes hurt, they hurt so much and so did his head. But he couldn't speak, his mouth and throat too dry for that.

"What have they done to you? Sunshine, oh my beautiful---"

He knew that voice. He dreamed of that voice.

Ron moved his hands away and opened one eye.

Tommy.

Tommy was surrounded by light, like an angel. and he was so, so beautiful that Ron couldn't stop looking at him even though it hurt.

Tom walked closer, he noticed the discarded uniform, the blood staining it, and the naked body in front of him. He draped a blanket around his shoulders and lifted him into his arms.

"Alright... let's get you away."

Nicky would get angry he had been taken away, Ron thought briefly, dazed. But he was so tired, and Tom's arms were so strong and warm, holding him close.

Never before ron felt as safe as the moment he let his eyes fall shut and leaned his head against Tom's shoulders.

#whumptober 2023 #no.11 #captivity #top gun #fic #dark goose #omega Ron #alpha nick #alpha tom #omegaverse #ron slider kerner #nick goose bradshaw #tom iceman kazansky #top gun fic #aki writes

19 notes · View notes

onlyjaeyun · 5 months

Note

Honestly, I'm not even a damn singer, and if Enhypen was all you wanna feature on our song, my ass would have came up with a verse, like maybe it's just praise kink coming out, but I would want to impress who I'm working with since you think you would want your feature to add something to a song, not just sing over the original song, like this ain't karaoke babes. I feel like the perfect song length is like 3:40, not too short, not too long, but all Hybe is making lately is like 2:20, like I think they are allergic to making long good songs, the longest song on both &Team's album and Enhypen's together is 3:48, and it's not even a real song, it's the prologue Mortal. Like War Cry is even shorter than Sweet Venom, like you don't have time to jam or get into the song, you get the vibe and just boom over, give us longer songs, like it's ridiculous, not every song needs to be short so it's easier to stream. I saw a Sweet Venom line distribution video, and it was probably the worst one I've personally seen for Enhypen; like Sunghoon got like 8 seconds, Jungwon got 10, Jake got 14, Niki got 15, Sunoo got 16, Jay got 18, and Heeseung got 46. Like I get it Heeseung main vocal, but you telling me the others couldn't have each hit one of those swee-hee-hee-t venom-nom-nom. Like War Cry is somehow better distributed with 9 members, despite Fuma getting only 4 seconds, Jo who has the most only got 22. Honestly, it do seem like that, like Enhypen with Bella, TXT with Anitta, and BTS with Sia. I honestly just want one question for Hybe regarding the next comeback, Chamber 5 studio version when, since it was just a cute song, and I think we need it, like Chamber 5 mv and all, I know Sunghoon would probably hate it seeing how he hated when Sunoo picked him to perform it, but that Chamber 5 dance practice with them dressed like fruits lives rent free in my mind, and we need a studio version. Also you listening to 10 Months while writing angst reminds me how I wrote this sad fic while listening to this song called Heartbeat by Carrie Underwood on repeat the whole time. Like the song is all 'I love the way you look in a firefly glow', 'dancing to the rhythm of your heartbeat' meanwhile I'm writing "No matter how long it took, even if he never found his way back to you again, you would never love another, and your heart would always ache for him, the one you believe is genuinely your one true love."

i wholeheartedly agree with the first part! i feel like ever since not only enha's but also new jeans' debut they've been making their new groups' songs shorter and shorter but i just dont get why? there was still so much potential in sweet venom as well as bite me so why not add another verse and make the song just thirty seconds longer??? i honestly dislike this wave of short songs like let me have at least 3 minutes to enjoy ???? i cant even get into the groove bc by the time i do it's already finished?💀 but yeah, genuinely wishing for their future tt's to bw a tad bit lobger to make the line distribution a little fairer 💔 i love love love jungwon's and hoonie's voices and would have loved to hear them more but we got them in still monster so i'm super happy (plus jay got to shine a lot this time and it makes me so 🥺 bc his voice is kind of my fave? but yeah)

also personally i just know those features are nothing but a way to promote bc she wasnt bad or anything but she also didnt add anything to the song imo 😭 i liked their harmony but that's it? she didnt even get a verse (which makes sense as the so g is so short already) but looking at proper collabs from their seniors like bts x nicki minaj it's just kinda disappointing but expected atp

and omg i love listening to happy songs when i write angst bc it kinda makes me write it even sadder than it is LMAO

#; mailbox 📬

2 notes · View notes

scorchedhearth · 1 year

Text

Day. 22 PICK YOUR POISON

Toxic | Withdrawal | Allergic Reaction

set vaguely in the distant future

“Nile!” Booker yells behind her in the corridor, over the roaring of the machines and the alarm blaring above them all. “What are you doing?”

“It’s the only way!” She yells back, grips the torch tighter in her sleek hand. “Look.” She raises the torch and points it at a door at the and of the large room she’s standing in. “The control panel is here, if I can reach it, I can put a stop to this.”

He doesn’t answer, so she turns around then, just in time to see him opening and closing his mouth a few times. There’s conflict on his face, and things he wishes to say, but he doesn’t tell her any of them. Instead he nods and backtracks. “Good luck,” and he disappears behind the corner, leaving her alone in the room.

This wasn’t supposed to go like this, they went in this compound only to stop one person, get them out and into the public justice. As it turns out, the entire thing’s rig to blow if the boss gives orders, and that along with outdated facilities means that Nile is currently breathing in fumes and about to waddle knees deep in toxic waste to reach the main controls of the building and keep it from exploding and burning the entire valley. Just another Thursday.

“Alright," she slowly breathes out and rolls her shoulders. “Let’s do this.” Another deep breath and she sets foot off the threshold and into the room now filled with water thanks to the busted pipes. It smells horrid, fumes and smell burning her nose and throat as she breathes it, the chemicals turning the water in a muddy, shiny color.

Highly corrosive, she read on the big signs plastered all over the cisterns and pipes they’ve seen in the building. She prays her pants and boots hold up long enough she can reach the controls before it eats through the tissue and metal.

One step after the others, she makes her way through the water, only stumbling a couple times and never falling down in there. By the time she reaches the other side, her legs are on fire, her pants thoroughly soaked with water and burning her skin. She grits her teeth and climbs through the main panel, hidden behind a door.

She takes her axe out, the polished metal shining an almost blue tint under the lights and she brings it down hard on the door, snaps the lock and destroys the hinges. In a mere minute, she has the door hacked off and on the ground. She smoothly swings it back on the loop she has on her belt of it and makes her way inside. Everything’s starting to go fuzzy, not even the immortality healing fast enough for the sustained ingestion of highly toxic fumes.

So do it fast and neat, she tells herself as she stumbles into the room and falls over the control panels, like you always do. There are a lot of buttons and panels and levers and screens, and her legs do not stop hurting because the water-soaked pants cling to her skin and she’s pretty sure water pooled in her shoes too by now.

“Come on, focus,” Nile bites her tongue to try and wake herself up and look at the controls in front of her. She’s seen it already, last decade they saw these news technologies for the first time and they use them all the time now for security, she knows it.

“Alright, who’s first,” she stares at the button before ticking off the air supply into the machines followed by the electricity. She wouldn’t call it muscle memory, but it’s always the same order with these things, at least for the basics. When time comes for the case specifics…

The others must be out by now, at least Nicky and Joe posted closer to the exits. Book should be close too, as well as Nish, she’s on the lower levels, unlike her and Quynh. She doesn’t worry about Quynh, it’s hard to keep her locked inside anything nowadays. This means Nile can start shutting down powers in the upper levels, including for oxygens and heat. This is exactly what she does.

The minutes stretch by as breathing keeps getting harder and her hands get weaker. Her earpiece goes off once, Joe calling out “Boos, where are you!” but she can't answer, her hands are busy tinkering with a couple levers and trying to shut down the power sources and not blow them up.

“Ok, here we go.” She mutters as she presses one last button and breathes out in relief as the machines around her stop and all signs of activity in the compound is dead. Nothing is moving anymore in there, and bare any change in temperature, the central should hold until they come to dismantle it in due form.

You did it, she thinks as she lets herself fall down, hacking up a dry and painful cough when she collides with the floor. Her legs are still burning, just like her forearms, and she’s tired. She knows it’s the fumes getting to her, but despite putting all her might into it, she cannot get herself to stand up. She’s tired, and exhausted, and everything hurt.

But she did it, the danger’s passed, and maybe the fumes will be less intense after a while. Maybe if she dies a couple times the effects won’t be as strong. She doesn’t let herself think about the lack of aeration and the stagnant air even as she falls unconscious, mind quietly slipping through her finger as her heart gives up and stops

#wt22 #nile freeman #tog #she's the boss :)

10 notes · View notes

vasquezfriedrichsen15 · 2 months

Text

6 Questions and Solutions To Roulette

Patients who take Lipitor (generic title atorvastatin) can expertise ache and stiffness in addition to weakness of their muscles. Madonna has about 300 million gross sales to her name and only The Beatles, Elvis and Michael Jackson claim extra. People who take the antihistamine Allegra (generic name fexofenadine) are attempting to get rid of their hay fever and other allergic signs like sneezing, coughing and itching eyes. This side impact also can occur with patients who take statins, a category of medicine which are imagined to lower cholesterol. There are a lot of prescription medication to assist with several types of bodily aches and pains, but some medication that have nothing to do with pain relief can really cause ache instead.

In actual life, some prescription medicine also can cause amnesia, although total amnesia is incredibly rare. One of those bizarre unintended effects is amnesia. You will see it several more instances in our prime 10 because of the wide selection of weird negative effects that its users can expertise. Learn on for number 9 on our listing of weird unwanted side effects -- but watch your nerves. When a profitable number and color is determined by the roulette wheel, the seller will place a marker, also known as a dolly, on that quantity on the roulette table layout. It would take a bit extra planning and scheming to make this occur, but will probably be price the effort as soon as the birthday lady or boy enters the room and all people shouts, "Shock!" To make things more meaningful, plan a particular audio-visual presentation or a simple however heartfelt video of the celebrator.

It should play, communicate, and do business. Then it's a must to take one thing to fight the ache -- and that is how people can find yourself on a number of medicine for multiple circumstances. They might end up with muscle pain and backaches, nevertheless. Some researchers theorize that the statins may match almost too well, blocking the creation of cholesterol necessary for neurological operate. Due to this fact it is fascinating to take a link from a site which has a high web page rank. pokers78.com featured high profile collaborations with Hip hop superstar Eminem on the sequel to their hit "Love The way You Lie", Drake & rap sensation Nicki Minaj.

#pokers78.com

1 note · View note

shadeedee · 1 year

Text

Nathaniel puts a laxative in his brother’s tea and the results are bad. Just a fic of events taking place after Curtain joins the society..

Nicholas was laying on the couch, relaxing. Nathaniel was sitting beside him, smirking. Nicholas wondered what he was up to. Then he heard a loud rumble. “What the hell was that?” he said. Then he realised, the rumble was coming from him. It was his stomach. “Oh, oh god. I don’t feel so good,” he said, and he sat up holding his stomach. Nathaniel pretended to be concerned. “What’s wrong, Nicholas?” Why don’t you have some more tea?” he asked, trying not to laugh. Nicholas realised the tea had tasted a bit strange but he thought nothing of it. Suddenly, he felt it. It came very fast and hit him like a ton of bricks. “Oh my god!” Nicholas cried, and he rushed to the bathroom. Nathaniel burst out laughing. In the bathroom, Nicholas began passing loads of gas while tons of diarrhoea came out of him. His butt felt like it was on fire. “Oh my god! Oh god! Oh!” he cried, and it just kept on coming. Afterwards, he sprayed the bathroom and came out, still holding his stomach. He thought maybe the milk in the tea had gone bad or something. But his brother had the same milk and he wasn’t affected at all. He confronted him. “Alright, spit it out, Nathaniel. I know you’re up to something. What did you do to me?” he asked. Nathaniel chuckled. “I may or may not have put a laxative in your tea, earlier,” he said. Nicholas was horrified. “You what!?” he shouted. No wonder he was feeling so ill. Maybe letting his brother join the society was a mistake. Nobody trusted him, anyway. “Nathaniel, this is the most disgusting thing you’ve ever done! As well as creating that artificial happiness scheme! How dare you! You have no idea what’s in those laxatives! You could have killed me!” Nicholas shouted. Nathaniel chuckled. “Come on Nicky, it was just a bit of fun,” he said. Nicholas was enraged. His brother had no remorse for what he did. “Nathaniel, don’t talk to me tonight. I don’t want to see you. You make me sick,” he said, and he went upstairs, shutting the door. Nathaniel realised his brother was serious. “Nicky wait i’m sorry,” he called, but there was no response. Nicholas climbed into his bed, still feeling unwell from the laxative. Good thing the bathroom was just next door. He’d probably need it again any minute. He couldn’t believe his brother could do such a thing. What if he had been allergic to the laxative ingredients and what if it had killed him? Not once did his brother think about that. It was almost like he didn’t care if he killed him or not. That disturbed him more than anything else. Then, Nathaniel came in the room. “Nicky, i’m truly sorry. You’re right. It was wrong of me. I love you,” he said, and he leaned in to hug him but Nicholas moved away. Nathaniel lay beside his brother. “Hold me, Nicky. Please. I, I haven’t felt proper love or happiness for a long time. Only artificial happiness. I want to feel love and real happiness,” he said, sadly. Nicholas looked at him, and Nathaniel began making puppy dog eyes and whimpering sounds. Nicholas rolled his eyes. The typical puppy dog trick. The oldest trick in the book. But he fell for it because soon he was hugging his brother and the twins fell asleep in the bed.

#ldcurtain #nicholas benedict #mbs s2 #nathaniel benedict

0 notes

caffeinatedslothgaymer · 2 years

Note

Hi your blogs shows you’re submissive bottom! Nice & hot blog btw I’m a dom master message me if you will like to get your slutty ass hole fucked and explore more from me

Hello there dom-master-dady

Thank you so much for considering me. However I would like to graciously decline. For you see the kink side of life: I respect it and I admire those who wish to teach and get people to explore. I am sadly allergic to all the gear associated with kink. I also suffer greatly with claustrophobia and vertigo and prone to anxiety and panic attacks.

Unless you are able to cope with this scenario then no.

Kind Regards

Nicki x

0 notes

sickbunsbro · 3 years

Text

i just know nicky is lactose intolerant

#but he does not care #dairy? yes please #nicky your allergic #what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger #aftg #all for the game #the foxes #the foxhole court #nicky hemmick

19 notes · View notes

kazzyboy · 2 years

Text

More monster/fox headcanons, because it’s been a hot goddamn minute!

- Whereas Neil is completely covered in freckles, Andrew has more beauty marks/scattered freckles and light seasonal freckles on his nose and cheeks.

- Kevin has a peanut allergy. The twins are lactose intolerant and just power through it. Nicky is allergic to gluten. Meanwhile Neil is indestructible

- Andrew wears those plaid pajama pants in public

- Andrew would rather die than be caught wearing open toed shoes

- Andrew is strong as hell but this makes him top-heavy and he has the flexibility of a walnut. He has back problems by 25 and constantly needs it popped.

- The twins do not sleep. If they cannot sleep they give up. Just straight up start doing something else, because nothing works. The only time it has every worked is the hospital after injuries, and it was borderline lethal dosage. They could take entire bottles of melatonin and fight through it. Wouldn’t even bat an eye. Neil is the same way except it’s taught.

- Aaron is completely scent blind. If it doesn’t smell like blood or something burning he can’t smell it/can’t tell it smells bad. This mildly affects his taste and explains why he can eat spicy shit like it’s plain bread.

- Aaron and Kevin both really enjoy cryptid-related stuff. I like to think that Aaron is, like, an alien boy, like that one kid that had a bunch of alien pins and stuff, and Kevin likes the historic aspect of cryptic stuff— he’s particularly fond of Irish ones, like Kelpies and Nessie

- Speaking of Irish Kevin, Kevin in a kilt.

- And speaking of Kevin and Aaron, they have a sort of little club where they watch cryptid stuff and conspiracies and always end up way too paranoid at three in the morning. Nicky teases them for “acting like a bunch of school girls having a sleep over” but that’s just because his room is next to Aaron’s and he can hear them whispering about creepy stuff all night

- Neil prefers hot weather, whereas Andrew cannot stand any extreme weather. At all. Above seventy, fuck you and fuck the sun. Below forty, fuck you and everything else. He thrives in mid-storm/cloudy weather though. It’s usually when he has the most energy.

- Neil calls Matt “Matthew” at random just to mess with him (the equivalent of your mom saying your full name)

- More of an exy head canon but goalies have another piece of extra armor adorning their thighs and hips, because getting your pelvis shattered is no joke

- Andrew grinds his teeth without realizing it and it always manages to annoy the fuck out of Neil

- Aaron’s crusty ass uses the most salt on his fuckin ramen for no reason

- Nicky and Matt chaos team. Nicky and Matt chaos team. Nicky and Matt chaos te

- Neil drawing on his shoes with sharpie <3

- The monsters dislike thanksgiving for many, many reasons, and therefore deem it second Halloween

- There’s just. So much throwing things. Andrew, Neil, and Kevin (as well as the girls) have wicked reflexes thanks to exy and dedication (And Neil dragging Andrew into it with the promise of roof time) and so they’re all used to just being able to throw something at each other and have the other catch it. This, however, is not a universal trait. Sometimes Dan will throw something in Matt’s general direction, like when they’re cooking, and Matt will always catch it at the last second, because how was he supposed to know Dan threw an egg at him from behind and how did Dan know he wasn’t gonna catch it immediately? Aaron is higher on the scale than Nicky, but he still has no idea how Kevin expected them to catch a fucking lamp?? Hello? The freshman.. the freshman drop so many things. It’s become a bet with the upperclassmen.

340 notes · View notes

the-chicken-or-the-banana · 3 years

Text

ok because AP tests are upon us and this is my only way of releasing all my stress, here's a short list of andreil study time hcs for your viewing pleasure

our boy andrew doesn't really have to study

neil on the other hand... actually needs to work to keep up his GPA

he's never really cared enough to study but now he has the foxes and exy and a future to lose so he might as well put in the effort to keep them

neil needs caffeine like he needs oxygen. the man cannot focus for shit without it

he'll down like three mugs of black coffee in the morning and be set for the day

andrew hates it but doesn't complain much as long as neil makes him some actually decent coffee too

(once, neil accidentally gave him the wrong mug and andrew didn't talk to him for the rest of the day)

when andrew does study or does homework, he hates studying in the library

he told nicky that it was because he's "allergic to books"

really, he just knows he'd get distracted and start reading william faulkner or jane austen instead of his textbooks

neil, however, loves the library

he can't study at all in the dorms; he needs to keep moving to new environments so he doesn't get bored by his surroundings

so neil and andrew don't study together half the time

which works out well considering the few times that they do, they tend to get more than a little... distracted

but if the library is closed or neil just doesn't have the energy to leave the dorm, he bullies andrew into helping him study instead of playing video games or reading

(neil gets a kiss for every question he gets right. andrew gets to look at a pretty guy for a few hours. it's a win-win situation)

mr. Neil draws-fox-paws-instead-of-doing-his-work Josten struggles with focusing on literally anything but exy and andrew

so he always ropes in one of the foxes as a "study-buddy" to hold him accountable while he's working

andrew and neil both like having noise-cancelling headphones on while they work, but this also means that people hold full-on conversations with them without realizing that they can't be heard

(also, because they're assholes, even when they can hear the other person, they just... don't respond.)

andrew is a pastel highlights guy. also he's weirdly possessive about his pens

neil just grabs the first mechanical pencil he sees (99% of the stationary he has isn't even his, he just found them laying around campus)

neil is also super disorganized. loose papers everywhere, he can never find anything. no matter how clean a place starts, it turns into a mess within 5 minutes of neil studying there

he also has food wrappers and crumbs everywhere because he constantly snacks while studying

andrew is surprisingly clean - he organizes everything by class and then color-codes everything (granted his memory helps so he doesn't have too many notes in the first place)

anyways, they both have their own methods of studying and it works for them

(aka andrew just vibes and neil frantically finishes all his work 3 hours before it's due)

ok yeah that's all i got right now, my brain is fried and i actually have to study now, pray for me 😔

#i'm really calling myself out with this one #basically i'm using andreil studying as a way to motivate myself rn 😭#i hate the collegeboard #pls give me a 5 #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil headcanon #andreil hc #palmetto state university #aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #tkm #the king's men

193 notes · View notes