#jorahgothique

[uncharnel]

@jorahgothique​ continued from here

  Unlike right after the finish of the race's first stage, elation wasn't the strongest emotion Pocoloco felt. Adrenaline and excitement had suppressed it yesterday, the pain of being bounced off several branches and the ground was making itself known in no uncertain terms today. As had the bruises, nasty patches of discoloration covering his back and the better part of one of his sides. They ached, making his usually hang-loose gait stiff.

  His sunny disposition had almost completely evaporated, receding more and more in favor of irritation the longer he stayed inside. Never mind that third out of almost 4000 was nothing short of miraculous for an unskilled rider. Never mind that his damnfool stunts could have broken his neck or back and just being able to walk the next day was the best possible outcome. Pocoloco never looked that far ahead into the future and he wasn't about to start now.

  Going out into town seemed like a good idea. He didn't have much money, but maybe he could find something to do, a distraction to take his mind off things. So far, marching aimlessly through the streets hadn't gotten him anywhere except more crabby. And so, he didn't care that some girl was standing directly in his path, too distracted by a piece of paper to notice him coming.

  Normally he would have taken a quick side-step. Looked around to see if she was pretty and said something if she was. Gone on his carefree way no unhappier. He wasn't in the mood for that, he'd done enough going around during the race. Well, if she wasn't moving, he'd just have to take care of that for her.

  A single, brusque push and he was past, kept walking even though there was some feminine yelling behind him. No business of his. She hadn't shown him any regard so why should he do the same? People never gave him any respect even though he—

  Whoa!

  Arms wheeling to keep his balance, he was suddenly face to face with the unsuspecting victim of his ire, her scowl even deeper than his childish pout of dismay. She was pretty. Would have been prettier with a smile. Oh. Shit. His frown made way for an expression closer to panic, his eyes wheeling around looking for an escape. This was going to look bad, wasn't it? The ole man always told him not to make trouble, folks didn't look kind of it when one of their people did. A lily-white girl giving him a dressing down could only be interpreted one way.

  “Hey, girl, I'm sorry! Didn't mean anythin' by it. My bad.” As defenses went, it wouldn't have held up in court but it was worth a shot. As was grinning at her, although the corners of his mouth kept falling during his furious backpedaling. Oh man, it didn't feel like she was about to let go anytime soon. Come on, li'l guy, where are you now with all your advice and support? Pocoloco got to go and he could really use your help.

  “Y'all right, I should've said somethin'. My momma’d be ashamed, she taught me better 'n that.” Pity he couldn't remember much of it apart from ‘sorry’ and ‘please’ right now. He tried to straighten up but he was tugged right back down. He smiled through the wince, forced himself to, the result bordering on the maniacal. “Think y'all could let go, please? I ain't goin' anywhere, I promise. I'll make it up to y'all, okay?”

[hairnado-deluxe]

[continued with @jorahgothique ]

Yukako slept better than she had in ages. Being with Jorah always made her feel safe and secure, especially on nights like that. Thankfully, the storm seemed to be over when she awoke the next day. The view from the window displayed a tranquil blanket of fresh white snow.

"Jorah! Look! It's georgeous. And not just you I mean outside!" she giggled

[diosconventionaladventure]

❄️

“J…Jorah? What are you doing out here? We need to get you inside.”

[20sep1847]

@jorahgothique continued from here

    In the nocturnal silence, the sound of the sharp click of heels on marble was disturbing enough a counterpoint to the soft ticking of the clock to wake the Funny up. Deep, proper, restful sleep was difficult enough for him to come by at the best of times, even less so since attaining the presidency. Only the foolish and the dead trusted their guards to eliminate every possible threat.

    Sitting up a little blearily, he listened intently. Yes, the sound of heels was unmistakable even through the walls. It could well only be Scarlet, coming back from God knows where at this time of night, but the cadence was too unfamiliar to lend much credence to that theory. Besides, he would much rather be safe than sorry. Even with a potential infinity of lives to give for his country, wasting them would be needlessly frivolous.

    Sliding open the nightstand's drawer as quietly as possible, he retrieved his old service pistol. The Single Action Army might be somewhat outdated, but it was like an old friend, well-loved and well-maintained. Despite knowing full well that it was, he checked if it was loaded by the dim light of the moon all the same and cocked back the hammer when satisfied.

    Although the steps were very close now, just outside the door perhaps, and he was tense with adrenaline, he lowered the gun somewhat reluctantly. Best to appear unprepared and it was rather bad manners to shoot anyone who entered one's bedroom, even if it was — a quick glance at the clock — well past three in the morning.

    A momentary pause in the clicks, the handle turning, the door swinging open all but silently. The world seemed to slow for these actions that must have taken no more than a second or two. A slim form, posture at ease and unworried and— humming? Even caught halfway between the alertness of adrenaline and the slowness of sleep, the picture that formed in his mind was clear enough.

    “Jorah, what in the blazes are you—” he stopped the tirade right there. What would she be doing in a man's bedroom in the middle of the night indeed? Unless she was an assassin of sorts, but he doubted it, for all that she crept around like one.

     “Good Lord, girl, have you no sense whatsoever?” he berated her, disarming the pistol with a flick of his thumb. “I very well could have shot you, you little sneak-thief.”

[roguegunforhire]

“Stop!” //if you're still accepting ^^//

John glanced as he looked back at her from under the caution tape.  “No.”  He said after a moment.  “Try and stop me.”

[minty-rohan]

🤡

Rohan was reaching for the costume until he noticed Jorah had her eyes on it as well. If she wanted the thing so badly she should have taken it before Rohan found it. “Buzz off, it’s mine now.” He said before he took it off of the rack.

[uncharnel]

@jorahgothique

  It was a terrible thing, having to ask your own daughter where baby clothes could be bought. Maybe not so much because it meant she'd been thinking about having babies, oh no. Foley hoped Natalie's family would be as big and happy as his own. He knew she'd make a good mother. What brought him so much distress was the implication that she might be thinking about making babies, never a joyful prospect for a father.

  The thing was that he had no idea where else to go for the information he required. Chloe wouldn't know, their last child born in another state and not a hair on either her or her husband's head considered going through that again at this point in their lives. Nor was Foley acquainted with many young women besides his daughter and her friends. Making inquiries of them was out of the question for the sake both Natalie and his own sanity.

  Note with the address in his daughter's neat cursive written upon it in hand, he strolled through Washington's streets, Jorah by his side. His joints were kind to him today and Jorah's nausea to her, there was no need to rush. The cold persisted, reddening the tip of his nose and bringing a mild tingle to his fingers. Even so, the day was lovely, cloudless and crisp, the thinnest layer of snow worn down by the mercantile street's foot traffic.

  And no wonder, with Christmas coming up! That alone was enough to put as much of a spring as there could be in Foley's step. He delighted in every sign of it and smiled at each shop window they passed. Holly decorated every single one, the choicest goods proudly on display. It was a time for giving, but most of all for buying.

  That showed in the crowds around them, men and women laden with packages, coming and going from seemingly every direction. Foley kept an eyes on his charge throughout it all, stepping in front of her so she could walk in his leeway when he thought she might get jostled. That she might run without her eyes on him never crossed his mind and besides, his gaze returned to her as soon as it could.

  It wasn't her movements he watched like a hawk, rather some show of interest. Every glance at a shop window that looked like it might draw her interest was filed away among the debris of his questionable memory, no matter how minor. If she looked in the general direction of a dress for 5 seconds, he spent his time until they'd passed studying it. A pretty broach? That small bird statue? All remembered for later, even if he'd probably forget how they looked until he saw them again.

  Nobody should be forgotten on Christmas and he'd made up his mind that Jorah would not be. A pity he couldn't give her the only gift that would matter, the chance to be free and go wherever she pleased. Even he had given up on the hope that she'd ever get used to her new home, the melancholy palpable even though she hid it. His distractions could only do so much.

  The blankets he'd brought from home were at least a beginning in shaking up the dreariness, ghastly though he thought them. The promissory note from an unknown account gently creasing in his inner pocket would allow for more changes, furniture and decorations of Jorah's own choosing. And for today, she wouldn't have to look at the walls that kept her trapped in a drab little cage. They would take their time, even if they didn't get back before dark.

  Peering myopically at his note, Foley stopped, holding it up to compare it to the sign over the door. There had indeed been dresses and slacks in the window much too small for an adult, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Natalie had recommended this shop especially and Foley trusted his daughter's tastes to be closer to Jorah's than his own.

  Satisfied that his search had not been in vain, he stuffed the scrap of paper in a pocket and pulled open the door. The bell above it gave a merry jangle to announce their entry, the air from inside a blessing of warmth, the light warm and inviting. “After you, Jorah,” he said with a gallant if creaky wave. “Take as much time as you need and don't be shy, we should have more than enough to get anything you want.”

[uncharnel]

what’s a weird headcanon you have for each of your muses? //gimme gimme//

Multimuse meme || @jorahgothique

[[Ohhh boy, let’s go!

Mike O.

He actually cannot make a shape out of Tubular Bells’ drones unless he knows how to do it manually. Sure, he doesn’t need to use his hands, but there’s a bit of mental block in place that prevents him from forming a shape with his mind unless he knows how it works.

Blackmore

Didn’t know what stands were for about a decade. Was he just going crazy? Is this Purgatory? It sure seems that way, nobody else can see his mask and he can vaguely remember being very near death. Now that he knows what stands are, he feels inferior because he can only use it in specific circumstances. Call it a love/hate relationship.

Pork Pie Hat Kid

Knows what human flesh tastes like. It’s not his favorite, but if it’s dead, he’ll eat it. It’s not even malicious, he will eat anything easily available for sustenance, like a vulture or a jackal. The only reason he doesn’t like it is because raw meat tends to give him gyp. He’s more open to it now that he knows how to make fire and doesn’t get why it upsets people.

Pocoloco

He actually does grow as a person in the time Araki forgets he existed. Remember, his luck only lasted two months, not nearly long enough to see his through the race. The rest of it is all determination helped along a little by Hey Ya! since he can’t rely on luck past November or so. Is he still more confident than he should be? You bet, but it tends to work in his favor.

Scarlet

This may not be weird but I have no HCs for Scarlet that are weirder than her being her. She suffers from a pretty severe case of endometriosis and the related hormone fluxes really don’t help with her other issues. Nor does the fairly regular pain. Or the infertility.

Funny

Oh dang. Funny is the pun master if you get him going. What can I say? Deep down, he has that dad humor and he thinks it’s very clever. Tooth-hurty? Oh, yes. Absolutely brilliant. You’ll have to excuse him because he needs to go have a laugh in private.

I don’t think these are as much weird as they are over-thought, but there you go.]]