Peter Rumancek (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
velveteenwolf) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2013-10-05 02:53 am
velveteenwolf) wrote in tampered2013-10-05 02:53 am
See me bare my teeth for you / Who who are you?
When; October 6th, early Saturday morning.
Rating; PG-13?
Characters; Peter Rumancek and Roman Godfrey
Summary; This curse... well. Peter wakes up as a girl.
Log;
Peter hasn't been sleeping well these past few days to begin with. Dreams, memories, a white wolf with glowing eyes, with a name he refuses to give back to her. Death, blood, name of young girls that end up on the news and incite a small, backwards town to terror. There's fire, riots, more death than history gives in his dreams. These things weigh on him, drag him down so he wakes feeling like he's drowning under the weight of it Letha, Destiny, fate he couldn't change for anyone.
He wakes gasping, like he can't get a breath, like there's something on his chest, and for half a moment, he's back in Nick's trailer, shoving the cat off his chest. Except it's not a cat. And when he scrambles, screams, his voice comes out high-pitched, instead of that low murmur that tended to rumble in his chest. Ohgod. This can't be real. There is just no way that this is happening. He's suddenly wide awake, uncomfortably aware of how his boxers fit awkwardly, tight in the hips and loose in the waist, and the disconcerting feeling of breasts. Reflex has a hand going down to grope at the front of his boxers and all appearances point the arrow very firmly into the female category.
He's cursing while he fishes out a tank top, and that doesn't fit him much better than his boxers; tight across his chest, the arm holes low enough to give an almost indecent side-view of her breasts. She's intending on running to the bathroom, to the mirror, being able to at least get a look at herself, at what's going on. But she stops short when her even smaller feet pad into the hallway, because she's halfway down the hall when a door opens and there's Roman. She closes her eyes for a moment, running fingers through her hair in frustration.
"Shee-it."
Really, this place could go fuck itself.
Rating; PG-13?
Characters; Peter Rumancek and Roman Godfrey
Summary; This curse... well. Peter wakes up as a girl.
Log;
Peter hasn't been sleeping well these past few days to begin with. Dreams, memories, a white wolf with glowing eyes, with a name he refuses to give back to her. Death, blood, name of young girls that end up on the news and incite a small, backwards town to terror. There's fire, riots, more death than history gives in his dreams. These things weigh on him, drag him down so he wakes feeling like he's drowning under the weight of it Letha, Destiny, fate he couldn't change for anyone.
He wakes gasping, like he can't get a breath, like there's something on his chest, and for half a moment, he's back in Nick's trailer, shoving the cat off his chest. Except it's not a cat. And when he scrambles, screams, his voice comes out high-pitched, instead of that low murmur that tended to rumble in his chest. Ohgod. This can't be real. There is just no way that this is happening. He's suddenly wide awake, uncomfortably aware of how his boxers fit awkwardly, tight in the hips and loose in the waist, and the disconcerting feeling of breasts. Reflex has a hand going down to grope at the front of his boxers and all appearances point the arrow very firmly into the female category.
He's cursing while he fishes out a tank top, and that doesn't fit him much better than his boxers; tight across his chest, the arm holes low enough to give an almost indecent side-view of her breasts. She's intending on running to the bathroom, to the mirror, being able to at least get a look at herself, at what's going on. But she stops short when her even smaller feet pad into the hallway, because she's halfway down the hall when a door opens and there's Roman. She closes her eyes for a moment, running fingers through her hair in frustration.
"Shee-it."
Really, this place could go fuck itself.