#like Timothé goes by Tim or Timothy

[tired-and-unjellied]

welp, new OC idea

Fireman, 40-something, misses his daughter and feels like he screwed up as a father as she went no contact (he actually has no child), cursed for some reason. Can heal people through touch, but it's subconscious, and he doesn't know how he does it or even that he did it.

[rebelrebels]

chapter four of everdramalore: coney island/liability.

if i can't relate to you anymore, then who am i related to? / and i'm sitting on a bench in coney island wondering where did my baby go — he don't wanna know me, said he made the big mistake of dancing in my storm

you're laid down on your back on the couch, throwing a red ball up and down at the ceiling mindlessly.

"y/n, you're driving me crazy. go outside and play with your friends or go get high or whatever the fuck you do." your mom chops a carrot, knife clacking against the wooden cutting board loudly.

you roll off the couch and get up from the carpet floor with a soft oof without another sound or word.

you sneak a pack of your mom's cigarettes from the nightstand near the front door into one of your cardigan's pockets. she doesn't notice so you walk out the door coolly, hands in pockets.

you always kept a lighter in one of your pockets. you wore the same cardigan day after day after day.

but today, you wore a white one instead of black. timothée noticed even from afar.

you went to the park and sat on one of the swings in the swingset. you light a cigarette and smoke in silence. you close your eyes.

"i like you, y/n! stop pushing me away!"

"sabrina, i told you, i don't like you back! please just leave me alone! i've told you a million times!" you attempt to close the door but she puts her foot in between.

"sabrina. it's like you're a stalker and it's getting annoying and somewhat creepy. i've tried telling you in the nicest way possible but this...has gotten kind of, no very, out of control. so, please leave."

you open your eyes.

you sigh when you realize you're still sitting on a swing in the cold, windy weather with clumps of snow scattered around the ground and a half burnt out cigarette in your hand.

you throw it on the floor and stomp on it, putting it out.

you close your eyes again.

"dad!"

"y/n..."

you try to unbuckle your seatbelt but it's jammed. you start screaming for help, but the screams are too weak. you look out the smashed window and see the car that hit your dad's was similar to your older brother's.

"dad! are you okay?"

there's no answer.

blood trickles down the side of your head. you close your eyes when you hear sirens approaching. you can't hear your breathing or your dad's breathing anymore. or your heart rate. you're finally at peace.

the next memory comes into focus.

you see your mom pouring out wine for herself and crying silently at the kitchen counter. you don't remember the last time your mom ever drank or smoked. you just tuck yourself into bed and turn off the light.

you open your eyes and see you're under your covers in your bed inside your home.

you're confused. how did you get here? you were at the park. but you don't read into it too much.

you leave home again. you guess your mom is probably at work.

you see timothée sitting on the sidewalk with a glass bottle of amber liquid at his side. you sit next to him.

"i didn't know you drink."

he scoffs. "i didn't."

"well, whiskey won't make you feel better." you deadpan.

"it already has."

comfortable silence follows shortly after.

"did you break into my house and tuck me into bed?"

"when you put it that way, no. but it was hard to ignore you passed out on a swing and crying." he offers you some whiskey.

"no thanks. and did you say passed out on a swing and crying?"

he nods.

you hesitate before finally saying, "i should go."

"wait." he stands up, his legs wobbling lightly.

he stretches out his arm. his palm has a messily drawn-on smiley face. you glance at the drawing and then his face with a raised eyebrow momentarily before sliding your hand into his.

and then he starts walking, leaving the bottle of whiskey on the sidewalk, which makes you turn around questionably. you turn back to him, your eyes glued to the back of his head and your hand in his.

"where are we going?"

"you'll see."

he stops and lets go of your hand. you try to sneak a peek at whatever's in front of him but he makes you cover your eyes.

after a few minutes you excitedly say, "can i look yet?"

you cover your eyes with your hands and sneak a peek through a hole and see a floppy ear, trying to hide your smile when you figure out what it is. you hear a loud whine and shuffling before he allows you to open your eyes.

you uncover them, squealing when you see a puppy in his arms. he hands it to you awkwardly, dusting some dirt off of his pants. you sit down on the ground and play with it.

"thank you, tim," you say softly.

"what are you gonna name him?"

"hmm...i haven't really thought about that." you pause before saying, "i'm gonna name him tim. or timothy."

his cheeks turn visibly red at this. "after me?"

"mm-hm."

"we should go." he shifts stiffly and holds the box the puppy was in in his arms.

you hold tim the puppy in your arms as you walk back home with timothée.

you unlock your front door with your keys with difficulty and let the puppy run into your house. "bye, tim." you wave to him before going inside.

he waves back shyly, watching you go. you look out your window and still see him standing under that street light across from your house.

"hey, timothée!"

he turns around, not expecting to be punched in the face by the one and only leo.

"what the fuck, leo?!" timothée wipes at his nose, which is now dripping blood.

you're running out of your house after seeing this and struggling to separate leo from timothée. leo manages to land another punch near his eye.

"fuck off, leo!" you push leo, which makes him curse under his breath. "you better have a good fucking reason why you're hurting tim."

"you like timothée! and sabrina, my ex-girlfriend, kissed you and now she's depressed and broke up with me! all because of you and timothée!"

"you like me?" timothée turns to you, still cupping his nose.

"i- i- well- i don't know! it's complicated, okay?!" you grab timothée's hand (not before giving leo the middle finger) and walk angrily back home.

you mop up the blood on timothée's face. "i can't do anything about your black eye."

"it's okay."

"on the other hand, you do look really cool." you give him a clean tissue for his nose.

"it hurts a lot. i've personally never been beat up before."

you smile at this while dabbing on alcohol with a cotton ball on his cuts. "hold still." you lean in to dab on a small cut near his left eye.

he stops breathing altogether and tries a little too hard to stay still. he sighs in relief when you finally finish and clean everything up.

"tim!"

timothée looks up immediately but goes back on his phone when he sees tim the puppy running towards you.

"tim, you should rest. you did get beat up by leo, who's at least ten times bigger than you. just saying."

he huffs and puts his phone away before sliding onto your couch. you turn off the living room lights but you still stand at the kitchen counter, busying yourself with feeding tim the puppy.

"hey, y/n."

"hm?"

"we're friends, right?"

"best friends."

"you'd tell me if you wanted to be more than friends?"

you pause in confusion. "yea."

"promise?"

"promise."

"go to sleep already." you walk to the couch, picking up a pillow and throw it at him playfully, which lands on his face.

"goodnight, y/n." his voice muffles from underneath the pillow.

"goodnight." you pick up tim the puppy and turn off the lights. he sees you close your bedroom door.

he closes his eyes and goes to sleep.

@yeriville @canycn @truly-insatiable

[flyswhumpcenter]

Earth Never Stops - Part 1 - Oreburgh Mines

Summary: Oreburgh Mine is Sinnoh’s only remaining source of coal and, as such, serves as its main source of electricity alongside Flowey Meadows’ countless wind turbines. It contains enough resources for years to come, but what may be more interesting to the casual tourist visiting the region is the presence of fossils in its rocks, waiting to be discovered between two coats of black ore. As such, it requires constant functioning and there has to be someone to manage the miners, right? Well, it works until the main gear fails: the foreman is, after all, only human.

Length: 2.5K words

Notes: Someone will have to smack my head into oblivion so I don't write that kind of shit ever again. I'm sorry for this, even if I know I'll probably continue to write it beyond reason. Let's hope this isn't the new Symphonie Cacophonie lmao The OCs are cameos of my PDV characters Luc Parillot (Luke) and Timothée "Tim" Ethan (Timothy).Huge thanks to Magnetism and their Auraverse, whose Roark's been an inspiration for my own interpretation of the character. http://archiveofourown.org/works/10698855 It's some good stuff so please check it out, it's worth a read much more than what you're about to read because it has more plot than, essentially, "mine sickfic".I have to expose some headcanons and stuff which count in this story: -I headcanon the Nurse Joy who appears in this as a "doctor" because she can also diagnose humans. Such a famous mine would have at least a bit of security, wouldn't it? -I know Machop is used for mining in the games, but I also added Geodude because it's literally a punching rock who can learn Rock Smash. -I don't know what a foreman does in a mine despite living in the north of France and having seen mine history here and there. Turns out having once visited a terril and Roubaix's La Piscine museum isn't enough to make you versatile in mining history and functioning. Hell, I even had to Google what a foreman was because I'm that terrible.Writing got me thinking: can you get OOC a character who doesn't have much dialogue in their original material?

AO3 version available here!

Oreburgh Mine is Sinnoh’s only remaining source of coal and, as such, serves as its main source of electricity alongside Flowey Meadows’ countless wind turbines. It contains enough resources for years to come, but what may be more interesting to the casual tourist visiting the region is the presence of fossils in its rocks, waiting to be discovered between two coats of black ore.

As such, it requires constant functioning and there has to be someone to manage the miners, right? The role goes to the foreman, who is always up. In any case, there’s a substitute, but he’s usually not in Oreburgh City since the foremen seems to have an iron health. Someone working in the mines would joke that their previous foreman eventually became Canalave City’s Iron-type Gym Leader.

The following and current foreman is the youngest they’ve had yet. Byron used to bring his son to the mine from time to time since the latter was a child, and some of the eldest miners remembered seeing a newly born Roark, twenty years before. It was like he was born with a pickaxe in his hands, and he was already excavating fossils when he was in elementary school. What was once a tease of Byron, “your son is gonna replace you before we know it”, became reality when the foreman left Oreburgh City for Canalave City, called by the League themselves to take care of its Gym after its previous Leader had retired.

Nobody was really surprised when the boy, the eighteen-year-old boy mind you, was picked by Byron as his successor. It was as if they had always been around Roark, and it had “only” been a bit more than a decade, but the transition felt natural. It didn’t mean he didn’t remain in the shadow his father, foreman for twenty years before him, to whom the miners were all attached, and some considered him their own father, in some way.

The foreman sub’s been missing for the twenty-fifth week in a row. “Where in the hell could he be?” isn’t a real question in the mines anymore: it’s more of a private joke. A question nobody really cares for the answer, and usually it’s replaced by the latest, funniest place to put in a conversation. Last time, it was someone’s ass. Maybe comedy isn’t their forte, but as long as it makes the other miners laugh, it’s all right.

Today, Luke is asking the question to Tim, who simply replies “In Canalave’s Gym, right where Former Boss lost to a ten-year old girl and her Gastrodon”. Tim then shots a look in their current foreman’s direction, only to notice he doesn’t even cringe at the teasing of his own dad.

“Boss,” Tim calls out, “you heard me? Your dad lost to a Gastrodon of everything. How ridiculous is that?”

“Oh, right,” the foreman responds with delay, “that’s right. Gastrodon. Canalave Gym.” He forces a snicker out of his mouth.

“How’s the Gym going?” Luke asks. It’s been ages since he’s taken a break in the Gym. Last time, he got to see a blonde-haired girl beat the Gym with a Turtwig and a Starmie of everything.

“It’s going… well I guess. I broke my latest lose streak yesterday…”

Luke and Tim look at each other. The former shots another look at Roark while the second one orders their Machops to work a bit on their own for now. Once they both thumb up each other, they get closer just so they can speak about stuff their foreman shouldn’t hear them talking about.

“There’s something wrong about the boss,” Luke tells him in a whisper. “He’s quieter than usual.”

“He may just be tired,” Tim replies, almost shrugging off Luke’s worried expression. “The boy’s also a Gym Leader and whatnot.”

“I could have sworn he was usually the first one to make jokes about how busy his life is. He doesn’t even bother with our jokes today!”

“Your dad instincts are playing again. This isn’t your daughter we’re speaking about, it’s the boss. Byron’s blood runs in his veins, he’s fine.”

Tim still looks at their foreman. His own face doesn’t seem as confident in his beliefs as before.

“On second thought, the boss looks a bit weird. He’s a bit slow too.”

“Right? The sub’s not here though, so he can’t entirely leave us without having another foreman to make sure it’s secure.”

“I don’t want to interrupt you on purpose, but I think he’s looking this way. Let’s go back to work and discuss that after lunch.”

While he mines, Tim stumbles upon what looks like a fossil, a weird one of that. He swears he has never seen such a fossil before, despite having worked there for twenty years. His scientist of a husband walks behind him.

“Mark,” he calls him out, “come check out that fossil. I don’t think I’ve seen one like that before.”

The scientist walks to the rock and examines it carefully with his gloves and glasses.

“It’s a Helix Fossil. They’re usually found in Kanto, but there are some in the Underground. It’s very rare to see such a big one in a mine.”

“What about we tell the boss? I’m sure he’s going to lost it in front of it!”

“I’ll let you get him then.”

That’s what Tim does. He goes the fastest he can to his foreman, who’s in another part altogether of the mine, probably making sure the Machops trained to dig alone do their job correctly and safely. He swears he can hear some pants and maybe some coughing echoing between the rocky walls. Finding him and his red hard hat isn’t difficult, and it doesn’t take long for the miner to join his “boss”.

“Boss, Boss, I found something incredible! Come check it out!” he screams in the mine, getting the attention of Pokémons around him.

“What is it…?” a weak voice replies to him, as the foreman turns towards him. His helmet isn’t put on correctly, which is weird for someone as cautious as him on security for everyone inside the mine.

“I found a very rare fossil according to Mark. I thought I should at least tell you so you can check it out later.”

“Works for me… Oh, if you’re here, can you check out on the other miners for me a bit? Tell them I’ll check up on them once I’m done here…”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

“Thank you…”

Tim finally gets what Luke meant earlier. He would ask him if he was alright, or something alike, but he has a job to do and the boss probably doesn’t like to be bothered with such questions. He’s probably just tired and focused on whatever he’s doing. He’s a bit hesitant to get to his previous working spot, but he still makes his way there.

Suddenly, he feels something grapping his pants. He looks at what could possibly be clutching his leg: a Geodude. Wait, this can’t be a wild Geodude, there isn’t any wild Pokémon left in that zone of the mine. The fluorescent band it has around its left arm immediately tells him it belongs to the boss. It seems to cry for help.

Tim lowers to the rock Pokémon’s level.

“What is it, big guy?” he asks it.

Geodude points to the back of this section of the mine with its other arm, its face void of its usual anger, replaced with worry. What can it possibly be worried for? This doesn’t reassure the miner at all.

“You want me to follow you there?”

The Rock-type Pokémon jumps around a bit as it lets go of his pants before starting to make his way to where they both come from. Tim decides to follow: there may be someone trapped under rocks that fell, or there may be an Aron they need to take care of.

He decides to run back there instead of walking, as he’s afraid someone got jeopardized. On the way there, he recognizes the specially-trained Machops looking a bit panicked, just like the Geodude he’s following. This doesn’t sit well within him: the only person he’s seen there for a while is Roark. If their foreman has found death between rocks, they’re pretty much fucked for the remaining century. They’ll probably all get fired too. He doesn’t realize he’s crossing fingers.

The Geodude, unfortunately, brings him where he spoke to his boss barely minutes ago. The lack of light, which he finds weird because it was lit just fine before, makes it so he has to turn on his own helmet’s headlight. He can hear the usual sound of pants, something entirely ordinary in itself, aside form the fact he’s never heard these pants in particular. This can’t be good at all.

The miner stops right in his track as the Geodude goes next to the person lying on the floor of the mine. This can’t be possible. He must be in some kind of weird dream, and he has to find a way to wake up. He still runs to the lying body, just like the Pokémon before him.

“Boss?!” he yells as he kneels next to the other man. “Hey, Boss, this isn’t time to sleep! You gotta wake up, this is a mine!”

Tim puts a hand on his shoulder and shakes it off in an attempt to wake the guy up, to no success. He just knows he’s alive: he can hear his breathing, which sounds ragged if not difficult.

“What the fuck do I do…?” Tim says to himself, truly wondering what he can do with an unconscious Roark, the latter’s pickaxe and excavation kit, a Geodude and five autonomous Machops around him. The pickaxe and the kit can wait, really. The Pokémons, a bit less. He just hopes the only idea he has will work…

His foot hits a lone Pokéball which rolls until he grabs it. He finds five of them near it, all marked with a special sticker representing the Coal Badge on them.

“Geodude, come back,” he says as he points the ball towards the Pokémon in question, successfully calling him back. He’s surprised that even worked.

“Guys, you too, come back,” he then says as he points each ball to the Machop group, once again ending in pure success. He puts away the balls in the bag near him before taking it and putting it over his shoulder.

It’s with a pained look and an ache in his heart that he takes his foreman in his arms. He feels incredibly light for a miner: it may be him who is pretty strong, or the boy being a lightweight when he’s unconscious, or just both at the same time. He’ll ask for the guys to get the pickaxe and kit later: for now, there’s something more urgent than recovering some mining tools, no matter how important they are to Roark.

It takes a bit of time, and Tim feels like he’s carrying a statue made out of glass when, clearly, he shouldn’t. He braces himself for everybody else’s reaction: he just hopes it’s not too bad, otherwise they’ll have issues, and nobody wants to cause a coal lack in the entire region, not to mention none of them want harm to their foreman for Arceus’s sake!

He gets to remember it’s noon and lunch time when he reaches his usual zone of work, which is next to the entrance, so not many people are around. The less, the better. However, the nearest infirmary-like area he knows of is already outside of the mines: he has to walk past everyone else to bring their boss where someone can say what exactly happened to him.

Luke spots him from the entrance and runs to him, his own face filled with anything but joy.

“What happened to him?!” he screams, eyes fixated on the carried one.

“I don’t know… I was telling him about the fossil discovery I had made, but as I left his Geodude grabbed my leg and made me follow it, and when I arrived he was already knocked out…” Tim replies. “We don’t have time to waste, I have to bring him somewhere.”

“Wait a second. I need to check something…”

Luke rises the foreman’s helmet a little and puts his naked hand first on his forehead, then on the other man’s one, before almost cringing in a hiss.

“That’s what I thought. He’s running one hell of a fever man.”

“A fever?! He’s been sick all that time?! Quick, we have to run to the infirmary! Inform the others please!”

“Roger that.”

Tim isn’t walking at the speed of a Dunsparce now: no, he’s fucking running for someone else’s life to their infirmary, hoping there’s their usual doctor there. He can trust Dr Taylor to be there, right? She’s always there for them, she’ll be there for Roark too. That’s one unusual case for them all, and he hopes his hardest it’ll be alright.

Honestly, he’s afraid shitless when he kicks the door to knock, his hands obviously unavailable to do so. The pink-haired woman opens the door and she looks like she’s going to scold the hell out of him for kicking the door.

“Hello, Timothy. Why makes you behave like a Growlithe all of a…” she starts to tell him before her voice comes to a halt.

As soon as she sees his face then lowers her eyes, her face takes a sharp turn.

“Oh goodness… Put him on the bed,” she reacts as her thumb points to the inside, “I’ll see what’s wrong.”

He executes her orders and, soon enough, they’re both in the room, looking over the third person in the bed. After taking off the red helmet, he lets her examine his boss, more anxious than he’s been in ages, as she silently works on him.

“What does he have, doctor?” Tim asks.

“It seems like exhaustion and overwork has caught to him,” she replies in a much calmer voice. “He should be all right as long as he rests for a few days.”

“But…”

“Before you say it,” Dr Joy replies in a sadder tone, “I know Mr Roark has a very busy life and probably can’t afford many break days, especially since the summer rush is about to start. However, I can’t let him work when he overworked himself to illness like this.”

“Then, what can we do?”

“We’ll have to see that as soon as possible. I’ll have to call the substitute foreman by myself to justify his suddenly needed presence… Please go take your break, Timothy. Just tell the other miners about the situation, will you?”

“Sure thing. See ya later, Dr Joy.”

“See you.”

Tim can’t shake the situation off his head as he walks to his friends and workmates, lost in thoughts, hoping someone finds a solution real fast unless they all want to get in some serious troubles. The less they see the director of Fuego Inc, the better, especially when Roark isn’t here to discuss the matter with his own boss.

He sits next to Mark and unpacks his lunch as he summarizes the situation, a work already started by Luke. The summery air of early June around them all feels heavy, all of a sudden.

[tired-and-unjellied]

ok, nvm the tags I just added, I want to call him Jeremiah. He would go by Jeremy as a young adult, but switch to Jeremiah as an adult. A bit like Timothé goes by Tim or Timothy, and is nicknamed Timo Tea.

Brian would endearingly call him Jeremy regardless, and Luther...

Luther would 100% call him "Jellymy."

welp, new OC idea

Fireman, 40-something, misses his daughter and feels like he screwed up as a father as she went no contact (he actually has no child), cursed for some reason. Can heal people through touch, but it's subconscious, and he doesn't know how he does it or even that he did it.