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More from Harlow
Here's the shocking next part of Julian's current arc.
FBA and their Characters belong to their respective owners.
PREV: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/15740321/
===============================================
Win. Aim to the Top.
February 17th. It was another day of exhaustive training, strict regimes and swatting off detractors. The saluki being that morning’s FMZ victim didn’t help. For a twist, it wasn’t as shrugged off and even used as basis for his teammates to pester him some more about the stronger regime he decided to take. What was that about FMZ being stupid and sensationalistic? Not if it brings a chance to throw dirt at him some more it seemed, putain.
After a traditional sunset jog topping the day’s training, more recently turned into a sunset run on these last days; Julian got out his keys and walked into the peace and quiet which was his small, yet modern home. He left his sneakers at the porch and he peeled of his sweaty and stained gear garment by garment, walking in for a shower and heading straight to bed.
“Casse-Toi, FMZ…” the canine thought out loud, looking at his reflection in the bathroom.
As he kneeled down to pick up the laundry, he cringed at a sharp unexpected pain on his stomach. Damn it, no time for that, he needed to be in every game and ace it at every instance for his tail was on the line. Heading to a small medicine cabinet, Julian picked up and drank the pink syrup straight from the bottle. It seemed to work a while later quite nicely, good enough for the night’s sleep and the game to go on…
Worked as well the morning after when the pain resurfaced. Better grab some for the locker room as well. Can’t risk it again.
Win. Aim to the Top.
All the team was on the locker room, revising the plans. After a hit-and-miss home streak it was important to try to finish it on a high note. Every part of the machine must be on top shape.
“Y’all got it?”
The collective “Yes, sir” replied by the team reassured Coach Berk. “Alright, now the defense must-”
Crap. Not again.
The same exact cramp-pain struck again, but the saluki kept a game face. Excusing himself from the group for a bathroom break, he got in, door locked… And just like a jab right on the abdomen, it struck. He kneeled, slamming the sink with his fist a couple of times, breathing through his nose, trying to keep his concentration. Fuck, no time for this shit, NOT before the game. He couldn’t quit, he WONT’ quit, for if he wasn’t on top number-wise, he was damn sure Mr. Grehr would buy him out in a heartbeat, it was better to keep numbers high and the reindeer wouldn’t have any more choice for him but to let him stay. He wasn’t a perpetual smiler pretending to be in peace with all beings, and his realistic demeanor got him in hot waters, so it was fair to keep the points rolling.
He got up, the feeling diminishing, and washed his face. Just at that moment, Neil Warren walked in.
“Sup dude…”
“Sup…”
“So, feeling alright for the game?”
“Sure, on top shape… Can’t wait for the break, though” the saluki chuckled, trying to get over the small chit-chat as fast as he could. Luckily, the reptile went inside one of the stalls, cutting the meet short. Perfect chance as he snuck out to his locker.
((“Is okay. Get through this game and I’ll get checked on the break. Win, Aim to the top.”)) he thought.
“Seems coach Berk finally got the skit with all the guards, no Julian? ...Julian?”
Game on. It was a fast paced stretch. Both teams restlessly attacking at each other, for each basket the Maine-based team made, a Kahuna one followed not short after. The bench players’ eyes were glued to the court… except for Julian’s with was multitasking with the protests of his body and the fast-paced action on the court.
No. Game Face. He already downed the whole damn bottle, what the fuck was this?
As soon as Julian got on the court, it was evident something was off. The saluki was noticeably sluggish and aloof, quite the contrary of his notable demeanor; he always tried to get points, this time seems he tried to stay in the game. Trying to keep up with a tenacious Bangor, picking up the new signings’ strategies... and keeping this damn gut pain out of the damn mind!
“He isn’t himself today…” Neil whispered to Alphonse on the bench.
“What’ev, we’ll pick up ‘is slack ‘f that’s th’ damn case…” he replied.
First Quarter done and over, three more to go. And if the first was an odyssey, the canine didn’t expect what was going to happen next.
He tried to solider through, he really did… but the pain was beating, invading his body, harder to keep concealed. It was all boiling, waiting, biding …until…
…It happened. Room turned dark. Eyes turned back.
“Fall ...on your… bac...”
*SLAM*
“What the-HEY TIME! TIME OUT!” Clifford Carlin, who was in front of the saluki, shouted at the referees and everyone in the game.
Julian Cross-Kiraly collapsed on court; the whole stadium in unisonous gasps, panicked replies following, bench players standing up in shock, Aurora screamed a bit at the sight, even Alphonse was caught off-guard by the commotion.
The circle of players, both from Kahunas and Tides, immediately formed around the downed canine. Gerry Cross, the captain on the islander team, the one immediately jumping into action, pressing his paw on the side of his neck, feeling for pulse. Just as the paramedics arrived to the scene, the mink heard a gasp. Thank God, he was breathing, but he quickly got in a fetal position, obvious pained expression in his face. “ça… fait mal…”
“Julian? Julian! Is all going to be fine…”
Blanc Mange was right next to Gerry on the whole ordeal. Wait, this could work. ((“We don’t know what’s happening, Julian. But it’s all ok. Stay strong.”)) He continued in French. “It’ll be easier for him to digest…” he looked at Gerry, who nodded in return.
It took a while for the commotion to simmer, both teams treating it as a time-out. “He’sbeing taken to the hospital, but he is stable, so we’re going to continue with the game” spoke the badger to his team, ready to tackle this latter half of the game. It was dicey it was close, but in the end, Hawaii managed a victory, sadly fogged by this incident. What really happened to Julian? Was he going to get better? Was he going to be able to finish the season?
It was all uncertain.
FBA and their Characters belong to their respective owners.
PREV: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/15740321/
===============================================
Win. Aim to the Top.
February 17th. It was another day of exhaustive training, strict regimes and swatting off detractors. The saluki being that morning’s FMZ victim didn’t help. For a twist, it wasn’t as shrugged off and even used as basis for his teammates to pester him some more about the stronger regime he decided to take. What was that about FMZ being stupid and sensationalistic? Not if it brings a chance to throw dirt at him some more it seemed, putain.
After a traditional sunset jog topping the day’s training, more recently turned into a sunset run on these last days; Julian got out his keys and walked into the peace and quiet which was his small, yet modern home. He left his sneakers at the porch and he peeled of his sweaty and stained gear garment by garment, walking in for a shower and heading straight to bed.
“Casse-Toi, FMZ…” the canine thought out loud, looking at his reflection in the bathroom.
As he kneeled down to pick up the laundry, he cringed at a sharp unexpected pain on his stomach. Damn it, no time for that, he needed to be in every game and ace it at every instance for his tail was on the line. Heading to a small medicine cabinet, Julian picked up and drank the pink syrup straight from the bottle. It seemed to work a while later quite nicely, good enough for the night’s sleep and the game to go on…
Worked as well the morning after when the pain resurfaced. Better grab some for the locker room as well. Can’t risk it again.
Win. Aim to the Top.
All the team was on the locker room, revising the plans. After a hit-and-miss home streak it was important to try to finish it on a high note. Every part of the machine must be on top shape.
“Y’all got it?”
The collective “Yes, sir” replied by the team reassured Coach Berk. “Alright, now the defense must-”
Crap. Not again.
The same exact cramp-pain struck again, but the saluki kept a game face. Excusing himself from the group for a bathroom break, he got in, door locked… And just like a jab right on the abdomen, it struck. He kneeled, slamming the sink with his fist a couple of times, breathing through his nose, trying to keep his concentration. Fuck, no time for this shit, NOT before the game. He couldn’t quit, he WONT’ quit, for if he wasn’t on top number-wise, he was damn sure Mr. Grehr would buy him out in a heartbeat, it was better to keep numbers high and the reindeer wouldn’t have any more choice for him but to let him stay. He wasn’t a perpetual smiler pretending to be in peace with all beings, and his realistic demeanor got him in hot waters, so it was fair to keep the points rolling.
He got up, the feeling diminishing, and washed his face. Just at that moment, Neil Warren walked in.
“Sup dude…”
“Sup…”
“So, feeling alright for the game?”
“Sure, on top shape… Can’t wait for the break, though” the saluki chuckled, trying to get over the small chit-chat as fast as he could. Luckily, the reptile went inside one of the stalls, cutting the meet short. Perfect chance as he snuck out to his locker.
((“Is okay. Get through this game and I’ll get checked on the break. Win, Aim to the top.”)) he thought.
“Seems coach Berk finally got the skit with all the guards, no Julian? ...Julian?”
Game on. It was a fast paced stretch. Both teams restlessly attacking at each other, for each basket the Maine-based team made, a Kahuna one followed not short after. The bench players’ eyes were glued to the court… except for Julian’s with was multitasking with the protests of his body and the fast-paced action on the court.
No. Game Face. He already downed the whole damn bottle, what the fuck was this?
As soon as Julian got on the court, it was evident something was off. The saluki was noticeably sluggish and aloof, quite the contrary of his notable demeanor; he always tried to get points, this time seems he tried to stay in the game. Trying to keep up with a tenacious Bangor, picking up the new signings’ strategies... and keeping this damn gut pain out of the damn mind!
“He isn’t himself today…” Neil whispered to Alphonse on the bench.
“What’ev, we’ll pick up ‘is slack ‘f that’s th’ damn case…” he replied.
First Quarter done and over, three more to go. And if the first was an odyssey, the canine didn’t expect what was going to happen next.
He tried to solider through, he really did… but the pain was beating, invading his body, harder to keep concealed. It was all boiling, waiting, biding …until…
…It happened. Room turned dark. Eyes turned back.
“Fall ...on your… bac...”
*SLAM*
“What the-HEY TIME! TIME OUT!” Clifford Carlin, who was in front of the saluki, shouted at the referees and everyone in the game.
Julian Cross-Kiraly collapsed on court; the whole stadium in unisonous gasps, panicked replies following, bench players standing up in shock, Aurora screamed a bit at the sight, even Alphonse was caught off-guard by the commotion.
The circle of players, both from Kahunas and Tides, immediately formed around the downed canine. Gerry Cross, the captain on the islander team, the one immediately jumping into action, pressing his paw on the side of his neck, feeling for pulse. Just as the paramedics arrived to the scene, the mink heard a gasp. Thank God, he was breathing, but he quickly got in a fetal position, obvious pained expression in his face. “ça… fait mal…”
“Julian? Julian! Is all going to be fine…”
Blanc Mange was right next to Gerry on the whole ordeal. Wait, this could work. ((“We don’t know what’s happening, Julian. But it’s all ok. Stay strong.”)) He continued in French. “It’ll be easier for him to digest…” he looked at Gerry, who nodded in return.
It took a while for the commotion to simmer, both teams treating it as a time-out. “He’sbeing taken to the hospital, but he is stable, so we’re going to continue with the game” spoke the badger to his team, ready to tackle this latter half of the game. It was dicey it was close, but in the end, Hawaii managed a victory, sadly fogged by this incident. What really happened to Julian? Was he going to get better? Was he going to be able to finish the season?
It was all uncertain.
Category All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 960 x 600px
File Size 210.9 kB
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
DAMMIT JULES!
With that being said, he was already over stressing himself. He was putting his body under strains that he wasn't ready to take. Each person has their limit, and trying to exceed that limit doesn't make the better, it makes them worse.
Also, what was that pink medicine that Julian took? At first I was all like "How is Pepto-Bismol going to help?" and I realized that was a stupid idea. XD
It's good that he didn't OD.
Oh Jules...foolish, foolish Jules.
You'd BETTER get better! >8C
DAMMIT JULES!
With that being said, he was already over stressing himself. He was putting his body under strains that he wasn't ready to take. Each person has their limit, and trying to exceed that limit doesn't make the better, it makes them worse.
Also, what was that pink medicine that Julian took? At first I was all like "How is Pepto-Bismol going to help?" and I realized that was a stupid idea. XD
It's good that he didn't OD.
Oh Jules...foolish, foolish Jules.
You'd BETTER get better! >8C
Well then. That's going to be a painful week break...
Julian's gotta see eventually that the whole world isn't really against him, but I guess my biggest worry is his future in Hawaii is now in jeopardy. Something had to give.
Good work, and nice short stories. Looking forward to seeing how this develops!
Julian's gotta see eventually that the whole world isn't really against him, but I guess my biggest worry is his future in Hawaii is now in jeopardy. Something had to give.
Good work, and nice short stories. Looking forward to seeing how this develops!
When I saw "appendicitis" on Twitter, I thought, "Huh. How does overworking cause appendicitis? And if it doesn't, how is Julian going to be morally at fault for this injury and thereby have a personal awakening!?" (These are the things I think about.)
I had suspected that Julian's injury would come as a direct result of the overwork: some strain, rip, or break. Instead, his injury stems from the attitude that led him to overwork, which is much more intriguing, in part because Julian can't turn around and say that he simply worked too much.
*stays on tenterhooks*
I had suspected that Julian's injury would come as a direct result of the overwork: some strain, rip, or break. Instead, his injury stems from the attitude that led him to overwork, which is much more intriguing, in part because Julian can't turn around and say that he simply worked too much.
*stays on tenterhooks*
Had acute appendicitis. Not pretty. ._.
It'll be interesting to see how this "accident" will change Julian's perspective about his career, once he get better. I can't image Wilmer being happy with this - not to the point that he'd fire a promising rookie, but having him on the team has caused him a number of headaches already.
It'll be interesting to see how this "accident" will change Julian's perspective about his career, once he get better. I can't image Wilmer being happy with this - not to the point that he'd fire a promising rookie, but having him on the team has caused him a number of headaches already.
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