chapter update: give a dog a job ch 2

a job, the one with the dogs, idk if i made a tag for this

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in which each of our dudes has a bad time, separately and sort of together

chapter 2 on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/48424666/chapters/122533414

“Let’s get you to a chair,” Joe said, calm and businesslike. “Where’s the damage? Hip and shoulder?” Roche managed to gesture, and Joe proceeded to mostly lift him unaided, which hurt like a motherfucker, but once he’d dumped Roche, surprisingly gently– he was very strong– into the armchair in the corner it was easier to get his various joints at angles that didn’t hurt. “Cane,” Roche said, pointing to it where it lay uselessly on the floor; if he didn’t have that he wasn’t going to be able to get out of this chair without rolling down and crawling, and he really *didn’t want to. Joe retrieved it and hooked it over the back of the chair where he could reach it. “Do you need anything else,” he said, far too neutral and calm. “Yeah,” Roche said, savage with agonized frustration, “I need to not be a fucking *cripple.” Joe didn’t answer for a long moment. “While I can relate to that,” he said, “I meant, do you have any medication or anything that would help?” Gritting his teeth, Roche pointed to the paper bag he’d left on the sideboard, that still had the pill bottle in it. There were still a couple of pills in the old bottle but he wasn’t going to have Joe wander through his house looking for them. Joe took the bottle out of the bag. “One or two,” he said. “I can– one,” Roche said, giving up; Joe was already opening the bottle. “Can you dry-swallow or do you need water,” Joe said, but he was already moving over to the dish drainer to retrieve a glass. “Water,” Roche said, resenting it. Joe put the bottle down and filled the glass, bringing over a pill between his thumb and forefinger, and the filled glass in his other hand. Roche took the pill and the glass, inwardly fuming. He could get the lid off a fucking pill bottle, and he hadn’t asked for this. “Would an ice pack help or is it past that?” Joe asked, and while his tone was neutral, it grated over Roche’s last nerve. “You know,” he said, “I didn’t ask for your fucking pity.” Joe said nothing, just stood regarding him. After a moment, he bent down, looming uncomfortably close. “I know we don’t know one another, Vernon,” he said quietly, “but I want you to look me in the eye for a moment, and then tell me that you think I don’t know what it’s like to have to adjust to a new way of living after a bad injury.” Roche’s anger flattened out abruptly, staring into his neighbor’s mangled face. The remaining eye was green, astonishingly green against the medium-brown of the man’s complexion. “Uh,” was all he managed; he didn’t have an answer for that. (Your picture was not posted)

(no subject)

the witcher 2

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sassaffrassa https://sassaffrassa.tumblr.com/post/722654107946631168/lil-sketchy-sketches-from-last-year-explaining :

lil sketchy sketches from last year explaining that in my hc the most accurate 1:1 of modern headwear for Vernon Roche’s silly chaperon is the *cowl scarf *for the dual functionality of it: Tube Hat and Cozy Scarf

yes this was for bomberqueen17 https://tmblr.co/MEi4sKUjTkzs4ila4vEdnuA ’s fic Give A Dog A Job https://archiveofourown.org/works/48424666 bc we were contemplating roche’s assorted headwear and how much fashion he actually knows (none) and how many hats he has (lots)

fun fact i pasted this into the doc and it was at the top of the thing so as i was writing every time the thing reloaded and i went back to the top this guy was there alternately being a dirtbag and a hipster (Your picture was not posted)