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[zoesrepository]

Leonor De Castro (The Sparkling Lemon)

[saturnville]

on the frontline, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x black fem oc (major lanessa "nessa" dixon) content: in an unlikely event, john meets another major during the war, but she isn't what he expects. warnings: medical inaccuracies. an: Nessa is inspired by major della raney jackson, first black major of the army nurse corps. tag list: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste

The mess hall bustled with deep voices and the screeching of rubber soles against the dirty floor. The sun shone through the dusty windows and onto the leather-covered backs of the soldiers. An aroma of breakfast filled the atmosphere and wrapped its arms around them like a warm hug. The chefs made a large meal before missions. It was the last meal some men had to cherish. 

At a long table sat 13 men; two majors, two captains, a lieutenant, and eight sergeants. The conversations were minimal, until a sergeant spoke, “Have you met the new nurse?” He whistled he guzzled down a hefty bowl of oatmeal. He grunted after swallowing the hot oats and slurped down the black coffee beside his arm. “She’s a beauty!”

There was a discourse among the men who tried to figure out when they’d see the newly hired nurses. The wages of war came at a high price. Death and injury seemed to be a suitable payment to the creditor. To combat that, the service brought on extra hands to give medical assistance to the troops, especially with more men being enlisted to serve. Hundreds of thousands of men prepared to put their lives on the line; the least they could have was efficient medical care. 

“They all are,” another commented. “50 more nurses and half of ‘em are Black. Came in with them Tuskegee Airmen. Never seen anything like it.” 

As the pilots bantered about the new nurses, Major John Egan kept his gaze fixed on his coffee, his mind elsewhere. The arrival of more nurses was a reminder of the harsh realities of war, the constant influx of fresh faces tasked with patching up the broken bodies that returned from the front lines. Dread settled deep in his stomach at the thought of encountering them under such circumstances. With a curt nod, he urged his comrades to focus on the day ahead. Meanwhile, the chatter of the mess hall continued, blending with the clinking of utensils and the low hum of conversations.

“Haven’t seen them,” he spoke from behind the rim of his coffee. “Hoping I never have to. Let’s get going, boys.”  “Yes, sir.” 

-

“Major Egan’s hit!” For a moment, there was silence. Then, it wound up again when the wounded leader crossed the threshold into the infirmary.

The infirmary was chaotic. Loud cries and deep groans filled the air. Trays and metal utensils kissed one another as they were tossed on carts filled with supplies. White coats here and there sifted throughout the room as green bodies wheeled more patients into the large room. 

His breathing was ragged and heavy. With blurred vision caused by tears surfacing in the ducts on his eyes, it was difficult to navigate the infirmary without bumping into objects and solid bodies. His feet were heavy as he stumbled further into the infirmary. 

"I got you, Bucky," Gale's voice was frantic as he hoisted the pilot on his body. "You're gonna be alright, y'hear me?" If he had the strength, he would have replied. His heartbeat was in his ears and his stomach was in his throat. He'd never been shot before. Would this be the end of his career as a pilot? He groaned in agony. 

"I need a nurse!" Gale hollered, his husk voice reverberating off the walls. "He's been shot. Bullet is still in his shoulder."

In front of him appeared a nurse. A highly ranked nurse, at that. She was dressed differently than the others. There was no matching white skirt set with a pretty hat, no, she was dressed just like him. Dark leather jacket, heavy pants, and dark boots. On her chest was a multitude of badges and pins, including one that was similar to the one on Gale's chest. Major. Well, he'd be damned.

She didn't stay in his sight long, as she began giving orders to two other nurses, who were preparing a bed. She ushered her patient to another nurse and wrapped her black stethoscope around her neck. Around her wrist was a small hair-tie which she used to pull her curls into a makeshift bun. With a thunderous voice, she ordered, “Bessie, get him on a stretcher and bring him to me.”

A fellow nurse, Bessie assisted Gale in getting John on a stretcher. Gale stood behind the ladies, the tip of his thumb against his teeth. As the stretcher was rolled toward her station, she made a quick work of the gloves and ordered him to stay calm. “I’m gonna cut your shirt, okay? I need you to remove your hand so I can take a look. Take deep breaths for me.”

Beads of sweat trailed down John's forehead as he gritted his teeth. His nostrils flared and his jaw shook as he tried to keep his sounds to a minimum. The nurse above him chuckled, which caught his attention. "What's funny?" He managed to ask. 

She pushed his stubborn hand to the side and used her scissors to split his shirt in half. She was unfazed as blood trickled out of the open wound. It was ugly, but she knew how to make ugly beautiful. The wound was a wicked one, but it was a clean shot that managed to miss the muscle. It would be an easy retrieval. 

"No reason to play big man and conceal your pain here, Major. You got shot. The shit hurts. You can let it hurt here." She pressed her stethoscope against his chest. Heartbeat still strong, she noted. Wavering just slightly, but strong. She called for extra hands. "Administer the shot into the upper right shoulder."

John's eyes were on her as she worked. Her brown eyes were gentle and they remained on him as she poked, but her tone was stern as she said, "Major Cleven, if you'd like to stay, you must stay behind that line. Major Egan, you just received a numbing agent to reduce the sensation. The bullet is retrievable. If you feel anything unbearable,  you let me know. I'll stitch you up good as new afterword, am I clear?" 

John’s stomach twisted at her authority. His tongue scraped across the roof of his mouth as he nodded, "Yes ma'am."

"Wonderful. Scalpel, please." 

-

"How is he?" Gale's voice was unclear. He felt groggy. His head was a boulder on his shoulders and he felt confined to the small, yet comfortable bed he laid in. 

"He'll be just fine, Major. He took it like a champ. He'll be out of commission for six to twelve weeks and will be ordered to physical therapy upon return to base. Don't give me that look, now; he is not fit for battle right now, but he will be okay, I can reassure you that. My nurses and I will take good care of him just like we will everyone else."

John heard Gale's sigh of worry. "Okay, you're right. Thank you, Major..." 

She chuckled lightly. "Nessa Dixon." 

"Major Dixon. Thank you for all you've done." 

"No problem at all. You come to me tomorrow if that wrist is still giving you problems and I’ll wrap it again for you, okay? Get some rest, you'll need it." They exchanged goodbyes and the sound of Gale's footsteps retreating became clear. Finally, John's heavy eyelids peeled open. 

"Nice to see you again," she spoke after some time. She was leaning against the wall, hands stuffed into her pockets. and her stethoscope dangling from her neck. "How are you feeling?" She made her way toward him, sitting on the stool she set at the bedside. 

John groaned as he tried to readjust. His shoulder was wrapped tightly. He couldn't move even if he tried. Amelia jumped up and propped a pillow up. "Easy now..."

"Thank you," he replied gruffly. "I'm sore. Tired. And I need a damn drink." 

His response pulled a laugh from her. Not the small chuckle she'd release here and there, no, a hearty laugh. It made him smile. "You and me both. Let's get you up and moving first. Your procedure went well. You are to stay out of combat for--"

"Six to twelve weeks with physical therapy upon return to base," he repeated her words, clearly unamused. Nessa smiled, clearly amused. 

"Good to know you listen," she replied.

John hummed. "I do, Major. Didn't know that was a thing for nurses." He hated to seem painfully ignorant, but it’s what he was at that moment. Nurses in his unit rarely received titles, unless they’d done something extraordinary or had been in service for an extended period. But she, she looked young. Like she couldn’t be much older than he was.

Nessa nodded. She was one of the first Black nurses accepted into the Army Nurse Corps after they began accepting Black women. She worked her way up the chain, she explained, earning the same prestigious he carried. On the same level as a white man whose life was in her hands. Who would've guessed? 

"Nessa is just fine right now," she suggested. "I should let you rest. I'll do one more check before I head out. Major Cleven will be here in the morning, I'm sure. Do you need anything, Major?"

"John," he said gently, tired blue eyes gazing into hers. "And I'm okay. Thank you for everything." 

She gave one nod before leaving him alone and releasing the breath she wasn't aware she held.

-

“Nessa.” The woman sighed heavily and dropped her clipboard against the makeshift desk. Silence wasn’t a thing during war. Constant movement, moaning and groaning, the calling of her name. All she wanted was a moment of silence. It was nonexistent.

“Yes?” She didn’t turn around. But, she recognized the voice. Deep. Full of rasp. The way he said her name. It was familiar. Her eyes dropped to her clipboard, scattered with notes and reports that needed to be sent to the leader physicians. 

“Why are you awake? I thought you were leaving.” 

Her eyes dropped to the watch on her wrist. 1:43am. She’d been up for almost 24 hours. She shrugged and picked up her pen to scribble on the paper more. “I can ask you the same thing, Major. You’re supposed to be sleeping. Why aren’t you sleeping?” 

Finally, Nessa turned around. She regretted it. John Egan was a handsome man. She knew that, but she was too focused on ensuring he didn’t lose his arm to focus on his features. But in this moment, in the dimly lit infirmary with no one else present, she had every opportunity to do so. And, she regretted it. 

He was tall. Much taller than she was. She assumed her head would be at his shoulder, still leaving inches of distance between them. Though his face was littered with scrapes and healing scars, it seemed to illuminate his beauty. His eyes were blue, a strong contrast against his dark, curly hair. A strong nose and straight lips that she was sure felt amazing. His upper lip was cut in the corner and dried blood remained. He must’ve begun anxiously picking at it.

He managed to change his clothes. Major Cleven must have had something to do with that. He was dressed in dark sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She was curious as to how he got his arm through the sleeve, but she’d heckle him about it later in the day. His curls were damp and tousled messily. God, he was beautiful. Bruised and all. 

He chuckled and slowly sat in the chair opposite of her. He groaned softly and readjusted himself to come into a comfortable position. “I can ask you the same question.”

She shrugged, “I’ve got paperwork to do. Go to bed, John. You can’t heal if you don’t rest.” 

“You gonna tuck me in?” John’s tone was teasing. Nessa’s eyebrows raised and the pilot threw his head back as he laughed heartily. It was the first time he laughed with passion in a while, and she couldn’t help but crack a smile as well. 

“You’re in a good mood. Let’s go. You’re going to bed and I’m going to sleep in the infirmary just in case..” She pushed up from her chair and tucked her documents into a folder. She nodded toward the door and the pilot followed suit. 

They walked side by side in silence back to the infirmary, which was near the resting area for the injured who didn’t make it back to their chambers. Luckily, everyone had. Nessa’s eyebrows raised as John lay on the same bed he was on earlier. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m your just in case,” he said simply. He laid his head against the pillow and watched as she stood still. Nessa swallowed thickly. It took her brain extra effort to tell her feet to move. She sat on the edge of the bed to pull her heavy boots off her feet. She sighed in relief. 

Nessa swung her feet on the bed and allowed her body to mold into the comfortable mattress. Her eyelids felt heavy, but still, she found his gaze. “Goodnight, John.” 

“Goodnight, Nessa.” 

Though they did not say anything to one another after that, she found comfort in the silence. They found solace in the quiet of the infirmary that kept them through the rest of the night. Together.

[captainlondonman]

SKIN NEIGHBOUR

Dave was sad to see his neighbour, old Mrs.Dawson leaving for the Rest Home. She had been a good neighbour but been fairly bedridden for a while and Dave had been good at going in to help cook and clean. That was why he had a set of keys for the apartment and it was only after she had left that he realised he had not handed over the keys. Still when the new people arrived he could drop them off.

That Saturday as he was quietly listening to some music he heard  raised voices outside and looked through his spyhole. Standing outside were three skinheads in full gear opening up Mrs. Dawson’s front door laden with boxes

Fucking great place you got here mate. It’ll be a fucking great party place. Before we do anything to unpack you let’s open a few bottles to celebrate. You’ll sure waken up the neighbours here. Bet they are all a bunch of tossers. We’ll show them what fucking skins are eh?

It was clear which was the new occupant and the other two were smaller but chunky in build, with thick necks both covered in tattoos. Their legs looked as if they had been poured into their bleachers and both had them held high with braces showing off meaty bulges.

With that the three went inside and banged the door shut. In minutes Dave could hear the music being switched on and the guys shouting at each other always with expletives

‘Christ this is going to be awful. I’ll have to complain to the authorities if this gets out of control. And for now I certainly am not knocking on that door to give the keys back. They’d probably let loose at me and I’m not risking that.’

The music continued as did the shouting until mid evening when Dave heard two policeman at the opposite door. Shortly after they left the music was switched off and two of the skinheads came out to leave. One of the two crossed the hall and shouted through Dave’s letterbox

“It fucking well better not be you or else we’ll get you’

‘Thank God they have left and not all three are living there.’

Next morning as Dave was getting ready for work he heard the door opposite open and he looked through his spyhole.

The skin was the same height, perhaps a bit broader, still in full gear with oxblood boots, yellow laces, tight fitting bleachers that stuck to a good sized arse, a Fred Perry black T shirt and a black bomber jacket. As he looked at the back view Dave could see the word Skinhead heavily tattooed on the back of his neck. The guy turned round as if he almost knew he was being watched and gave a finger up sign at Dave’s door.

The guy looked a pure thug with his shaved head and slightly bulbous nose as if he had had it broken in a fight plus a good solid neck. On the one hand Dave was terrified but on the other seeing such a real thuggish man was also turning him on to the point that he could feel his cock inching down his trouser leg. As he rubbed his semi hard dick he thought perhaps I should just put the keys through the letterbox but then the guy would know who Dave was. On the other hand as he had the keys perhaps he could go and have a quick look as it was clear the guy had gone off to work. The temptation was too much. He wanted to see what had once been a really nice tidy apartment.

Opening the front door he could smell stale cigarette smoke as well as left over beer. In the kitchen apart from pizza boxes empty cans were scattered across the work top. In the living room an ashtray was full of ciggie butts. What took Dave’s breath away was the huge Nazi flag that had been pinned up and took over one wall. When he then checked out the bedroom a large black rubber sheet covered the bed. However this room was much tidier with a selection of boots and heights and differing laces on the floor. On a rail several pairs of bleachers hung, various colours of Fred Perry shirts and a few bomber backets in black, green and brown. The guy was obviously proud of his clothes. Lying on the floor scrunched up was a jockstrap, clearly used.

As Dave looked at the jockstrap he started to imagine what the guy must look like wearing it and when he gingerly picked it up he could see the well formed bulge that the guy’ cock had stuffed into it. He wanted to sniff it but it was too dangerous to do there so quickly he left the apartment with the jock strap. Sitting on his own sofa  he studied it and could see heavy piss marks but sections were crusty where the guy had obviously had the remnants of cum from sex sessions. Dave ran his one hand over the pouch feeling the crust, his other hand starting to massage his own dick. He needed to sniff and take in the full odour of the piss and cum. At first he just lightly smelt but the strong stench of a good week old jockstrap was too over powerful and he needed to get his nose right into the pouch. He wanted to feel the guy’s cum all over his face as he rubbed it over his cheeks and stuffing it up his nose savouring every part of the stench. He could imagine the guy pissing and not getting rid of the final dribbles so the piss could soak into the jockstrap. Also if the guy had had sex, why wash when his jockstrap could take the last parts to ooze out. Thinking of the guy, Dave was so bloody horny and unzipped his trouser to take out his now fully erect 7inch dick. It was a good thick piece of meat and the little sex Dave had had, his quickie partners had always remarked on the girth and heavy knob head. Now stroking his dick he needed to taste the cum and piss mix and slowly let the jockstrap slip into his mouth.

‘Shit what a taste, this is so bloody amazing. I can just see the guy now.’

By now his hand was fully rubbing the entire length of his cock and he pushed the jockstrap fully into his mouth  down the back of his throat letting his saliva take the full taste. He was almost gagging but the groaning started to increase as he felt his cock so rigid that the precum was oozing out the tip. Dave leant back on his sofa arching his back, his head raised with the jockstrap firmly down his throat, his hand now pummelling his dick. With one final jerk his cock erupted load after load of white cum over the floor and sofa.

As Dave pulled out the soaking wet jockstrap he thought

‘This is one of the best orgasms I’ve had in ages. I’ve never thought much about Skins in the past but thinking of the neighbour messing this up and looking so aggressive and butch is too much. I’m so glad he lives next door and that I still have the keys. I’ll let it dry out and carefully put in back tomorrow when he is out.’

Sure enough next day when he heard the Skin leave he waited a short time and then let himself in to return the now dry jockstrap and place at the side of the bed., just tucked under the rubber sheet so he might think he had kicked it out the way. Standing there looking at all the gear made him horny and made him wonder what he might look dressed in in it all after all the two were about the same size

‘I would so like to see me in all that, and feel what its like to be powerful, a yobbo a skin. I’d never dare go to a skin pub or pick a guy up like that but part of me would love to look like one. This is too good an opportunity to let pass. I know I just have to do this.’

Dave pulled out a pair of bleachers, a white Fred Perry, yellow braces and black Ranger boots with yellow laces and finally a green bomber. Standing there naked his cock was fully erect as he tried to stuff it into the bleachers. It made a huge outline down the leg and he moved his big balls behind his cock pushing his dick even further out to accentuate the hard line. It took him some time to lace up the boots but by looking at posters of skins around the room he could see how it was done. He loved the weight of the soles and how they encased his legs making him almost feel like a hardened yob. Next the Fred Perry and braces and finally the Mac bomber which had a set on wings embroidered on the back. This was better than he could have imagined. He felt transformed. He opened a couple of drawers and on the top of one was a lycra black hood with eye and mouth cut outs.

‘Bet he wears this on the prowl when he’s looking to beat up guys. It will make him feel more aggressive and dominant.’

 As he slipped it on over his head he felt himself more a man, more ready to fight. In the corner of the room was a baseball bat. ‘Christ the guy really did like trouble. I wouldn’t stand a chance meeting him.’

Clutching the bat he stood in front of the full length mirror.

Dave could not recognise himself. Gone was the wimpy college boy and instead was a skin in full gear holding a bat with a stiff cock bursting out of bleachers. He felt himself empowered  staring at the mirror. He looked like a skin and now he felt like one staring at this rough vision of someone he’d love to be

‘I’m a fucking skin, don’t fucking mess with me, I’ll fucking lay you, fucking bat you to bits. Us skins dominate I’ll fuck you to bits till your arse aches.Us skins only fuck skins.’

Putting on his working class accent Dave shouted at the mirror with one hand waving the bat and the other rubbing his cock through his bleachers. He had never felt like this and already a small patch of precum was showing through the bleachers. He had never felt so horny as he unzipped his fly and plunging his hand deep inside he pulled out his thick cock the head now glistening with cum.

‘I’m gonna fucking shoot this skin cum straight at you, you bastard, get ready Im a fucking skin. No one messes with me. Skin. Skin, skin. Oi Oi Oi’

His hand was now sliding up and down his shaft as he stared at his alter ego. ‘Fucking cum now. See how much cum a skin has’

And with that he shot a heavy load of thick white cum over the mirror.

As soon as he had cum he realised he needed to get out of the gear and get back to his real life but more importantly put everything back as it was and clean the mirror of the cum that was now running down the glass. He had to leave the place exactly as it was. He carefully put the clothes back exactly as he had found them, set the bat as it was and the boots in the same line up. By the time he got into his own flat he was exhausted from his orgasm but on a such a high seeing himself as never before.

‘Christ I would love to be like that instead of my weak pathetic self that I am.’

For the rest of the day he could think of little else and even in his dreams he saw a fierce looking skin coming towards him. All he wanted to do was go back the next day and repeat. He so wanted to see his vision changed and to cum in such shedloads

Sure enough the Skin went off to work and an hour later Dave let himself in. He decided to wear a different assortment of skin gear so put on the Oxblood rangers just like he had seen his neighbour wear and he chose a very bleached pair of jeans which showed off his erect cock even more as there was a little more space to allow the bulge look even more obvious. A navy T shirt and the brown bomber jacket which had SKINHEAD emblazoned on the back. He loved how he looked like another skinhead and would act out the part again to make himself so bloody horny it was painful to hold back coming. He found the hood but not the baseball bat which for Dave was all part of the aggro he wanted to create for himself.

‘It must be in the sitting room’ he thought and he opened the door to go in and check.

As he walked in the two Skinheads from last week were sitting on the sofa  beer and ciggies in hand with their booted feet up on a table.

‘Well who the fuck do we have here?’

As Dave froze in the doorway a strong  arm suddenly came round his neck in a stranglehold and he felt a thick metal collar being locked into place around his neck and padlocked. He was terrified as he felt a low sneering voice in his ear saying

‘So you’re the wimp from next door who has been breaking in to my pad. I don’t fucking taking kindly to the likes of you and no doubt you’ve been jerking off in my clothes.’

Suddenly one of the other skins shouted.

‘Fucking hell, Rick, the bloke’s pissing himself and in your fucking bleachers.’

Sure enough the terror had been too much and what started off as a small damp patch appearing at Dave’s crotch was now showing a long line of piss running down one leg all the way down to the boot. He was pissing so much it was also now running down the front of the bleachers having completely soaked through.

Rick yanked the chain attached to the collar forcing Dave’s head back, and with Rick staring at him spat out a huge gob of spit into his face and took one hand and rubbed it well in, gobbing a second time.

‘You fucking little shit. You’re gonna pay for this. You think you can piss in my best bleachers so you can fucking drink the stuff. Joe go and get the special hood for this little wanker but drink up those beers so you give him a real golden shower.

Joe came back with the hood and rubbing his dick with excitement.

‘This is gonna be fucking great. Serves the bastard right ruining your bleachers. We’ll make him pay.’

‘Lets see what the bugger looks like first’ and with that Rick pulled off the lycra hood

‘What a poncy little wimp we have here. ‘Ill tell you now you bastard you will not be leaving here looking like this. Now let me get this hood on you. ‘

The hood was made of leather straps and buckles which Rick secured into place and on the strap that went over Dave’ mouth was a hole with a rubber tube. ‘Breath in for the moment mate but there’s one final piece to be added and with that he rammed a funnel into the other end.

‘There we are so who’s first to let him know what piss really tastes like. He’s already gobbled my dirty jockstrap. Yeah mate did you think I hadn’t noticed? So you’re big on piss? Go on Joe get that rancid cock of yours out and see how much he likes it.’ As Rick said this he tied Dave’s hands firmly in rope behind his back.

Suddenly Dave seemed to realise what was happening

‘Please don’t do this, I am really sorry. I know I’m wrong and I’ll pay for your new jeans and anything else but not this.

‘Not this? You’re the one who drank the piss from my Jocktrap, you’re the one who has pissed himself in my best bleachers. So piss it is and loads of it, so start to swallow

With his hand ensuring the tube was well into Dave’s mouth  Rick shouted at Joe.

‘Go on let him have it. Let me see that piss of yours go all the way down.’

‘Do what Rick fucking well tells you, you slob because you’re doing my boots next, as he emptied his piss in to the funnel. Joe let his cock hang into the funnel and with one large belch his piss started pouring out of the cock and into the funnel.

‘ Shit Rick he’s trying not to swallow. The funnel is filling up.’

‘You little bastard’ and with that Rock slapped Dave across the face. The jolt and shock made Dave open his mouth wide and the piss poured down and Joe’s cock kept releasing more and more beer piss.

‘Right enough Joe, let Fred have a go and he can taste each of your piss.’

Joe stood back flipping his dribble cock into his bleachers and Fred took aim into the funnel his long thin cock being set into the funnel.

‘Christ I love this, seeing a guy take my piss’

With that Fred started stroking his cock as he emptied his piss into the funnel.

‘Keep that knob on for later. You’ll get the chance soon enough’

‘Christ the guy can’t get enough the way he is slurping it down.’

At first Dave felt he wanted to retch as the acid burned in his throat and even though he was tied with Rick holding by the neck and chain, there was something about the beery flavour as well as seeing two skin heads in front of him opening their flies and letting him see two rancid cocks release their piss especially Fred’s  erect cock which had to aim so carefully so as to make the funnel. Dave’s own cock was almost involuntarily reacting and he could feel his dick lengthening down the wet piss stained bleachers. Two skins bearing over him making him feel subservient was in truth what he had wanted.

‘Now put yer cock away Fred time for the next stage. So now you bastard with all that saliva and piss we need our boots cleaned. My turn first’

Rick pulled Dave off the chair by the metal collar and chain.

‘Get down on the fucking floor and start licking’.

As Dave went down on his knees he looked up at Rick and could see the skin was getting excited. There was a thick outline of a rigid cock down one leg. The guy sure had a good sized 8” prick.

As Dave bent to start licking so Rick firmly placed his other booted foot on Dave’s head forcing it hard down his mouth being crushed against the boot

‘Get yer fucking tongue out of yer mouth and start. I wanna see these boots sparkling with yer spit.’

‘Do what Rick fucking tells you as you’re doing my boots next’

‘And then mine’

Rick bent over taking hold of Dave’s head and yanked it up and down his boot watching Dave spit all across the toe caps.

‘That’s better boi. Us Skins like our boots shining. Now do the other’

Dave continued to let his spit and piss mix spread over the boots until Rick pulled him up by the chain and moved him over to Joe who bent down and gobbed into Dave’s face.

‘Now use some of my spit to make em more shiny, got it’.

There was no point Dave saying anything. He was completely under their control and if he complained he would only be mugged big time.

‘You’re good at this boi. Well need to get you do this more often.

‘Make sure he still has some spit for my boots’ Fred shouted. He also bent down and whacked Dave across the face.

‘You make me so fucking annoyed boi for breaking into Ricks pad. Lick my boots and soles I want to see my face in them.’

Dave was being forced down against the boots his arse up showing his good sized round cheeks tight against the bleachers.

‘Shit Rick the boi’s got a brill arse. We ain’t leaving that alone Just looking at that ripe ass is making me cock nice and hard he said stroking the enlarged length. Ain’t got me jock on so nice an easy to whip me dick out.’

Rick said ‘Well boys the next move is for you. Do as you like.’ Joe placed his hand over Fred’s dick outline and rubbed it.

‘Always luv that cock of yours Joe. This boi needs it.’ And with that he took his heavy hand and whacked it across Dave’s cheeks making him wince in pain. Seeing him react Fred decided a few more slaps would warm up his cheeks ready for entry. Fred bent down and put his hands around Dave’s waist to unbutton his flies

‘Fucking hell boys, the lad’s luving this . His cock is like a metal pole and a thick one to. He must luv his cock being soaked in his own piss and us skins on top of him. No bloody wonder he loves our gear.’

Fred eased the jeans down to expose Dave’s arse. ‘Nice and red now boi! You like a slap. Let’s get you ready.’

 He put one finger in and started to move it around

‘Plenty of space there for a good fuck mate’

He then put in a second and a third and finally a fourth

Rather than screaming Dave felt good with the fingers in him and moved his arse up.

‘Christ you’d take a whole fist mate by the looks of things.’

Taking his fingers out he put the hand around Daves face and smeared any shit off them

‘If you can piss yerself like that boi then you can take yer own shit’

‘Time for my cock to get inside that arse of yours.’ Fred said unzipping his bleachers and pulling out his erect dick with the red head pulled back and nicely exposed.

‘What you looking at Joe, get that cock of your ready, were a couple so we fuck together right. Get on yer knees beside me. I go first and then you.’

Both Fred and Joe knelt behind Dave’s arse. Fred put one hand around Joe’s shaft and with the other opened up Dave’s crack to ease in his cock.

‘It may not be the thickest but I’ll give you a good length. What did I say you could take a bloody ship up there boi.’

Fred slipped his dick in and moved it further up, Dave letting out a groan

‘You fucking love this boi eh? Well let’s see how you like two dicks up you.’ Fred then widened Dave’s cheeks to make his hole more exposed. ‘Right Joe get in from the side but put a gob on it first to help our young friend.’

Fred put one  arm around Joe and with the other took his dick and pushed it into the side.

‘Open up that fucking arse of your boi Joe wants in. Push it Joe’

With one sharp push Joe’s cock slipped in alongside Fred’s

Dave yelped with pain as his hole had to expand to take two cocks but once past the entry he felt pleasure and the need for them to push their dicks up further.

‘Christ Rick stop rubbing that prick of yours. I know you get a real knob on watching Fred and I fuck together but the boi can give you a good blow job. Hoist his head up with that chain of yours.’

‘Too fucking right Joe I need to shed a load of cum from watching you’

And with that he hoisted Dave’s head up in the steel collar so Dave was looking straight at the 8 inch dick now bursting against the bleachers. Rick pulled Dave’s head in to him

‘Suck my dick through me bleachers boi.’

Dave could not wait to feel the cock in his mouth with the bleachers between.

‘Please take it out Sir so I can get it all the way down my throat.’

‘Jesus boi what a horny bugger you are. Two cocks up yer arse and all you want my by whopping great prick down yer throat. It ain’t gonna be easy prising this monster out of my bleachers.’ He said with his hand firmly down one leg trying to pull his rigid cock out. Suddenly it sprang out of the bleachers and hit Dave in the face.

‘Like that cock of mine hitting you? Well let’s hit you a few more times’. As he whacked it across Dave’s face leaving a smear of precum

‘Now open that mouth of yours wide.’ Already the saliva was dribbling out of Dave’s mouth in readiness. He wanted to choke on Rick’s cock and feel the cum being forced down the back of his throat.

As Ricks cock entered Dave’s mouth so Dave started to push his arse back  to let in both cock further up his hole.

‘Christ’ he thought ‘I’m serving 3 Skins. It is like a dream’.

Joe and Fred turned to one another and started deep throat kissing , both so fired up being up the same arse and also seeing Rick so horny as his cock slipped further and further into Dave’s mouth.

‘That’s it boi take it all Let me feel my pubes against yer mouth.’ As Rick shoved his cock deeper into Dave’s mouth so Joe and Fed pushed their dicks further up their lips still glued together.

‘Christ boys I am really getting off watching you two fuck. This fucking prick is gonna get a river of spunk down his throat.’

As Fred and Joe stopped mouthing Fred looked up and said

‘Bloody hell Rick I didn’t think the lad would be able to take that big dick of yours. I’ve never managed the whole length. Shit you are the whole way down. Come on Joe its time for us to let him have it. A few more pushes  and I’ll come.’

The two skins worked the arse together and with one wail they let their loads shoot up Dave’s arse, groaning loudly. Rick seeing his mates spunk found it all too much and firmly grabbing Dave’s head said

‘Take the whole fucking lot boy. As he shot his spunk there was so much Dave could not swallow and it started to ooze out his mouth and down on to his Fred Perry, a long line of white cum. Rick kept shoving his cock against Dave’s mouth

‘Christ boi what a fucking throat. This is the best blow job Ive had in a long while.’

‘Jesus that was fucking amazing Rick. This kid loves a good fuck. Looked as if you made him swallow a shedload of cum.’

Rick wiped the remaining cum across Dave’s face

‘Now use your tongue to lick that up boi.’

Dave was no longer frightened. He was with 3 skins and they all had shot a load either inside his arse or down his throat. He almost felt like one of them.

‘Right guys, now fuck off I have the last bit of work to do with Dave boi. But first bring me the razors and shaving foam. I don’t want you here for that otherwise you both become too fucking horny again.’

Joe and Fred did as told

‘Now fuck off. Right Dave boi bend you head forwards and lets get this fuzz off that head of yours. You can’t wear skin gear with all that hair. Why the fuck do you think we are called Skinheads eh? Now you wont need to wear a mask to imagine yerself as a skin.’

Rick took the razor over Dave’s head initially giving him a number one so he only had  tufts left and Dave watched his locks fell to the ground almost relieved this was happening. Rick covered his head with shaving foam and started from the back moving the razor up from the neck and over the top. As he moved around Dave he could feel Ricks cock pressing against his shoulder and it was not soft,  far from it. He had a bloddy great knob on.

‘So you like feeling my knob against you whilst you get shaved eh?’

‘That’s some dick there. Can you please rub it a bit more.’

‘Right fucking little poofta. I can see your own cock stiffening nicely.. Lets get this job done.’ Rick continued with more foam and kept on shaving until he pressed his hand over Dave’s head and was able to feel its smoothness.

Then taking a hot cloth he cleaned Dave up and stood back rubbing his dick with satisfaction.

‘Now the important bit.’

He went out the room and came back in with a full leather hood with no eye or mouth holes. Coming out from various parts it looked almost like electrodes.

‘Lets get this on you,’ he unzipped the back part and slid it over Dave’s head, it sliding on nicely now he was totally bald.

‘A perfect size’ Rick said as he zipped it up. ‘Now smell the leather, good ain’t it.’

Dave nodded not knowing what was going to happen next

‘You’re gonna feel a few sensations but it only takes a few minutes and then you will feel more like us, as it’s what you really want.’

Again Dave nodded.

‘Right I’m switching on now.’

A sudden current made Dave jerk, he felt a heat wave running through his head, a thumping he’d never experienced. It was as if a light was trying to remove everything in his brain and he was totally unable to fight it. He did not want to fight it. It was almost a comfort to feel nothing. There was a pause and nothing happened for what seemed ages and then suddenly his whole head felt as if it was going to explode. He started to feel angry, aggressive even his thoughts were basic and he was sure he could feel his voice going through a change as he groaned with the impact of the charge. He wanted out of this he wanted to take charge.

Rick unzipped and took off the leather mask.

‘Fucking hell, I love it, you have SKIN tattooed across yer scalp. Brill. Now I am gonna untie you and take off the  neck shackle so you can see yerself in the mirror.’

Dave silently stood up and looked at himself in the piss stained bleachers, boots and bomber jacket but now gone were the locks of hair Instead he stood looking at a full bodied skin with a scar running down one cheek and SKIN tattooed over his head.

‘Right mate’ Dave barked in a deeper rough voice ‘you and yer mates have fucking put me through all this and if you think that dick of mine is not gonna cum now you’re fucking wrong.’

And with that Dave attacked Rick with a full punch into the stomach winding him and as he collapsed forward so Dave moved in. and put Rick into a stranglehold

‘You made me a fucking skin so now you’re gonna get fucked by a skin and I can see that dick of yours waiting to burst out of yer bleachers. Did you not think I could see that rear arse zip in yer bleachers. So much for big tough guy. Ye love a big cock up that arse of yours.’

Dave pulled down the rear zip and put his hand into Ricks crack.

‘Nice little hairy bum you have there Rick boi. By the time I’ve fucked you my cum will be stuck to all these hairs as I pull out.’ As Dave’s hand explored the crack and put two fingers up exploring the space.

‘Fucking nice hole boi’ he said taking his fingers out and smearing them across Ricks mouth. ‘Now taste yer own fucking shit, good ain’t it?’

Rick was in such a stranglehold he could not reply but he was suddenly aware of Dave’s fat cock pushing its way in to his craqck.

‘Don’t worry mate I let a good gob onto my cock so it’ll slide in nicely.’ As Dave pushed so Rick instinctively moved his arse back to meet Dave’s shaft.

‘That’s it boy you are fucking desperate for this. Its sliding in a treat. Now lets feel that cock of yours’

Rick was pushing himself into Dave’s shaft so he could feel it going right up to the hilt and Dave put his hand in and unleashed a good thick and long dick.

‘Shit you’re hard man. Lets make sure we come together.’ As Dave started to pummel Ricks arse he put his mouth against Rick’s neck and started kissing almost sinking his teeth into the neck. Rick was groaning with pleasure.

‘Not so much a tough guy now, eh Rick with my dick stuffed up yer arse and that cock of yours in my hand is just luvin it all. That’s it push yer arse all the way back into my prick

‘Shit Dave boi that cock of yours feels so good and your hand rubbing up and down my cock you sure know how to wank a guy. Christ my balls are ready to burst. Go on keep ramming that dick into me, fucking well take me. I can feel your precum oozing into me but I want all you can give. Go on give my tits a good nip.’

‘So you like yer tits worked on, you should have said mate.’

Dave moved his free hand up Ricks chest and gently rubbed his fingers over Ricks left nipple rubbing it through his Fred Perry

‘You don’t want a rub do you mate? More like this.’

And with that he pinched the tit hard.

‘Fucking hell man that hurts’

‘It’s what you want so stop being such a babe’, Dave barked as he continued to tweak.

‘Not so bad now is it the way your moving about. You just love my cock up you, my hand wanking your prick and now having your tit worked on. It’s sure got me so fucking horny I am ready to let rip up yer arse.’

‘Fuck man let me have it I’m also ready to shoot. Wank me harder, that’s it Shit I’m cumin’

‘Take all my cum Rick boi’

And with that Dave let loose spurt after spurt up Rick’s arse and Rick with final groan shot his load with Daves hand firmly around his shaft

‘Fucking hell man, I haven’t had an orgasm like that for ages. Thank God you let yerself into my pad and decided you love us skins.’

Dave gave his final shot up Ricks arse  and as he pulled out he swung Rick round and kissed him roughly putting his tongue well down Ricks throat.

‘Yeah mate thank you. I’m so fucking glad I’m no longer that pathetic  jerk and now I know I’m one of you bois. I’m a Skin’

Rick took hold of Dave face as they kissed and said

‘You are my Skin’.

‘Too fucking right babe’

‘You can keep that set of keys but I want a set of yours and its time we got out and got your yer own skin gear though having you wear my stuff makes me feel so horny.’

‘Right let’s get out pick up some gear and then go to the skin pub for a few beers with the blokes and you can show me off and then its back here as I want to feel that 8 incher of your up my arse’.

‘I was think the same bro. Its gonna be a long night.’

‘Not just the night mate’

[heich0e]

[warning: while f!reader is not described with any specific physical characteristics, the child in this fic is described as having inherited all of Megumi’s attributes and none from reader! please read with that in mind, or pass over this fic if not <3]

"So, can you help me?"

Megumi blinks down at the little boy, still yet to say a single word since he arrived at the veterinary clinic's doorstep. His lips part, and he tries to say something, but speech fails him. Like he's forgotten how to will his lips and teeth and tongue to do anything at all.

The little boy—the one who looks just like him, who has his hair, and his father's eyes, and the nose he's always been told he got from his mother—waits raptly for his response.

Megumi nods, waving the child in from the rain.

That should have been the first thing he did, he realizes belatedly, especially when he sees the way the boy's teeth are chattering when he steps in from the cold. He's sopping wet—with water dripping from his little blue raincoat and his yellow rubber boots onto the lobby floor.

"Can I see it?" Megumi finally speaks, looking down at the little baby bunny the boy is holding to his chest.

The boy looks reluctant for a moment, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, before nodding. He allows Megumi to scoop the animal from his little hand into his own, much larger one. The rabbit looks even tinier when he holds it in his hand, but it is mercifully still alive. It's weak, and possibly not going to make it, but for now there's still hope—and that's all Megumi needs.

He looks at the boy again, who waits with bated breath for his prognosis.

"Is this your pet?" Megumi asks the boy, though there are about a thousand other questions he has that beg to be posed.

The little boy shakes his head no.

"Where did you find it?"

"In the field behind Mama's work," the little boy says. "Is he gonna be okay?"

Mama.

"What's your mama's name?" Megumi asks before he can stop himself.

The little boy looks at him curiously. "Mama's name?"

Megumi nods.

"Mama."

The adult sighs pressing a hand to his eyes, unsure of why he expected anything else.

Two little hands clutch at the hem of his sweater.

"Please Mister," the little boy says, and Megumi spreads his fingers apart to look down at where the boy stands below him. The tears have welled fiercely now, sparkling in his green eyes. "Please make sure the bunny is okay."

Megumi freezes for a moment, an ache in his chest that he can't name—a heart attack maybe?

"Fushiguroooooooooooo—!"

A familiar figure appears in the doorway to the clinic, the door sliding open again.

"The weather out there is nast—"

Yuuji, still in his station uniform and with a case of beer tucked under one arm, freezes when he steps inside and spots the little boy holding on to the bottom of Megumi's jumper.

The darker haired man watches just about every thought play out across his long-time friend's face. Yuuji's eyes snap up to meet his, and Megumi can practically see the words flashing in his eyes—

WHAT THE FUCK?

"Yuuji, can you please look after him while I take his bunny to an exam room?" Megumi's voice is surprisingly even as he addresses his friend. "He came here alone."

It takes Yuuji a moment to process things, but when he does, Megumi watches the switch happen—the softening of his expression, the easygoing smile appearing on his face. This is not Yuuji who Megumi once watched streak naked across their high school sportsfield when he lost a bet to Nobara, not Yuuji who once cried for three hours after watching a tragic romance movie that didn't have a happy ending, not Yuuji who he's dragged home drunk more times than he can count—this is Itadori-san, Fire Lieutenant, who is here to help a little boy who's all alone late at night.

"Hi there," Yuuji says to the boy, crouching down to the boy's level. He sets the case of beer aside on one of the waiting room chairs. "I'm Itadori Yuuji, what's your name?"

Megumi almost laughs, but doesn't, and he steps through the doorway towards the exam rooms before he can hear the little boy's answer.

It doesn't take Megumi long to surmise the the baby bunny is not in any imminent peril—suffering more than anything from exposure, having likely been separated from it's mother too soon, and met with weather too inclement to survive. If the little boy hadn't found him, and hadn't known to bring him here, it's unlikely it would have lasted the night.

Megumi gets the rabbit set up in a small makeshift cage for the time being, setting down clean bits of hay and something soft for it to sleep atop. He puts water and some food inside as well, but just being in from the cold seems to have done the animal a world of good, and it quickly hides beneath the little blanket Megumi put down for it, and curls up to go to sleep.

He breathes a little easier, but only for a moment.

He makes his way back out to the lobby.

Yuuji is crouching on the floor, towelling the little boy's hair dry as he sits on one of the waiting room chairs. When Yuuji stops the vigorous movement of his hands, and the child peeks out from underneath the towel, his hair is sticking up in every which way. Both of the adults in the room stare at him in shock.

He looks just like Megumi.

"Kota-chan, I don't know if you got a proper introduction when you arrived," Yuuji says with a bright smile towards the little boy, jutting a thumb over his shoulder in Megumi's direction, "this is Doctor Fushiguro, he takes care of all of the animals here."

The little boy blinks in Megumi's direction, the towel still looped around his shoulders.

"Hello," Megumi greets him, though it's a little stiff.

"Is he okay?" the little boy, Kota as Yuuji has just introduced him, asks him earnestly. "Is the bunny okay?"

Megumi nods. "He'll be fine."

Kota smiles brightly, his cheeks lifting high on his face. It's the purest, sincerest expression that Megumi's ever seen on anyone.

"Kota-chan was just telling me that his mother works at a restaurant not far from here," Yuuji says, standing from his stoop on one side of the room. He shares a look with his friend that's more serious than the expression on his face or the tone of his voice betrays. "Do you know her?"

Megumi looks down at his feet, his fists clenched at his side.

He shakes his head no.

He hears Yuuji make a choked little noise of confusion, which he covers with a cough. "Hey, Kota-chan, are you hungry?"

Megumi looks up in time to see the little boy nod, his hands resting over his stomach. His blue raincoat is hanging on the coat rack by the entrance along with Yuuji's and now Megumi can see the sweater he's wearing—with a little cartoon racoon printed on the front.

"I know where Dr. Fushiguro keeps all the good snacks, should we go get one?" Yuuji asks the boy with a bright smile, and Kota nods again with an excited sparkle in his eyes. Yuuji takes his hand and helps him off his chair, leading him towards the staff kitchen. The blush-haired man pauses as he passes his friend.

"You should come too," he says, but his tone is quieter when he speaks to his friend, their eyes meeting. "We've got some stuff to talk about."

[midnighmoonligh]

Agere CoD Animal Crossing Head Canon's

(this is just for fun)

Item list; Denim Overalls (white), Kerokerokeroppi Pin, Pacifier (baby grey), Simple-accent Socks (white), Rubber-toe Sneakers (black), Dreamy Backpack (mint), & Panda Umbrella.

Big on-island design

Plays religiously when little

He will harass anyone he can to play with him

Ghost has to aggressively avoid Kyle when playing, he makes him regress

Has a Dark Academia theme

Favorite holiday is a mix of Halloween (favorite character is ofc Jack) and Turkey Day

Aggressively collects amiibo cards, has two binders full of them

The villagers he has are; Apollo, Wolfgang, Skye, Dobie, Chief, Kyle, Fang, Freya, and Vivian.

His starters had been Apollo, Daisy, and Pecan

Ghost's favorite villager is Kyle (looks like Riley & has Gaz's name)

Item list; Annyeong Tee, Baggy Shirt (gray), Dreamy Pants (blue), Jogging Shorts (black), Diaper (light blue), Mohawk Wig, Punk Hair Wig (orange), Pacifier (baby gray, Pacifier (baby mint), Holey Socks (blue), Knee Bandages, Knee Brace (black & blue), Basketball Shoes (light blue), Crossbody Boston Bag (blue), and Blue Umbrella.

All his villagers are jocks

His first animal crossing game was New Leaf

Prefers new leaf, but doesn't mind new horizons

The villagers he has are; Kid Cat, Samson, Stinky, Tank, Teddy, ED, Tad, Moose, Mac, and Lyman.

He collected the amiibo cards for a small time to get jock villagers, but he gave his collection to Ghost.

Soap's favorite villager is Tad

His favorite holiday is Bunny Day

His favorite character is Zipper

His original villagers were Teddy, Deirdre, and Poncho

Soap's Island is a cross between city-theme and kidcore

Obnoxiously into animal crossing conspiracies

He has loads of theories about Zipper

Item's list; Anorak Jacket (red), Colorful Striped Sweater (white, yellow, & red), Diaper (cream), Formal Shorts (white), Track Pants (gray), Crown, Colorful Striped Knit Cap (red), Pacifier (baby gray), Pacifier (baby pink), Color-blocked Socks (brown), Kerokerokeroppi socks, Pompompurin boots, Rubber-toe High TOps (berry red), Bug Cage, Butterfly Backpack, and Rainbow umbrella.

Big on bug collection

Maxed out the bug half of the museum

Gets so excited when seeing Flick

Casual player & often hangs out with ghost

Has had the same villagers since he started

Only really plays if he can play with someone

Got the crown from Ghost (both Ghost & Soap worked to get it for him)

The villagers he has are; Molly, Fauna, Beau, Erik, Deirdre, Pecan, Poppy, Kiki, Mapple, and Ike.

His starter villagers were; Fauna, Deirdre, and Pecan.

His favorite holiday is Festivale and Bug-off

Will take a day off just to sit and play the Festivale event

He'll spend an entire day running around collecting flowers because shiny

His favorite characters are Nat, Flick, & Kiki

The island theme he picked is a sort of glow forest

Item list; Colorful Striped Sweater (navy, light blue, & pink), Oilskin Coat (red), Explorer Shorts (beige), Pineapple Aloha Shorts (red), Outdoor Hat (red), Pacifier (baby yellow) Pacifier (baby orange), Pacifier (baby pink), Rounded Beard, Frilly Knee-high Socks (black), Knee Bandages, Rubber-toe Sneakers (yellow), Rain Boots (red), Fish Pochette, and Fish Umbrella.

The museum is fully maxed out

Shares an island with Gaz, doesn't decorate

He will get super anxious when things are suddenly different

Fishes ALL THE TIME

Only plays to fish for hours

Rich from the fish he catches

Gets lost on the island a lot

Will excitedly shake Gaz if he finds out CJ is roaming around

Is a pro at the fishing tourneys

He has all the special items you can get from CJ

Has the same villagers as Gaz

His favorite characters are CJ and Chip

Gets upset when things block the view of where he's fishing

Will complain about how clapped the villagers look

His favorite holidays are Fishing Tourney and International Museum Day.

Item list; Energetic Sweater (purple), Konnichiwa Tee, Mod Parka (green), Cargo Pants (avocado), Chino Pants (gray), Labelle Cap (midnight), OK Motors Cap, Pacifier (baby gray), Pacifier (baby green), Color-blocked Socks (green), Pom-pom Socks (green), Kerokerokeroppi Boots, Rubber-toe High Tops (olive), Nook Inc. Pochette, and Frog Umbrella.

Loves when it rains

Decorates like crazy

Super pretty and aesthetic island

Specifically created places where Price and fish

He's on fashion and his storage is full of clothes

Doesn't have enough space for his clothes and gets really upset about it

Island aesthetic is neutral neighborhood

He borrows Ghost's cards. He thinks they're really cool

His villagers are; Pietro, Julian, Elmer, Papi, Victoria, Roscoe, Winnie, Savannah, Reneigh, and Annalise.

The original villagers he had were; Julian, Alice, and Elise.

Gaz specifically picks the most obnoxious villagers to annoy Price

He forgets to warn Price when making changes to their island

Favorite holiday is Toy Day

Favorite character is Isabelle

Item list; Chick Tee, Culottes (white), Diaper (light blue), Boa Parka (gray), Denim Overalls (avocado), Kiki & Lala Pin, Pacifier (baby gray), Pacifier (baby mint), Color-blocked Socks (white), Nordic Socks (gray), Tube Socks (navy blue), Cinnamoroll Sneakers, Cute Sneakers (blue), Rubber-toe High Tops (blue), Bear Backpack (brown), and Pineapple Umbrella.

Only plays with Logan and/or Hesh

Shares an island with Logan & Hesh

Hesh's wife plays with them too!

Loves collecting shooting stars & their crafting recipes

Doesn't do anything in particular, mostly just follows Logan & Hesh around

Often watches Logan & Hesh fight over decorating (sometimes antagonizes it & finds it funny)

Logan enjoys having a fall scene, always skipping time to stay in it. Hesh prefers winter. So to compromise they split the island into three parts

Keegan went for a dark cottage-core on his side

Their villagers are; Phoebe, Charlise, Katt, Tybalt, Claudia, Filbert, Kitty, Tammy, Graham, and Vesta.

Their original villagers were; Phoebe, Kitt, and Charlise

His favorite holiday is New Years and Christmas

He always makes sure to play on holidays!

Favorite characters are Timmy and Tommy

Item list; Dreamy Sweater (blue), Garden Tank (blue), Kids' Smock (cherry blossom), Culottes (white), Diaper (light blue), Dreamy Pants (blue), Cinnamoroll hat, Prom Crown (silver), Pacifier (baby gray), Pacifier (baby mint), Pacifier (baby blue), Kiki & Lala Socks, Lace Socks (white), Cinnamoroll sneakers, Mary Janes (blue), Dreamy Backpack (mint), and Blue shiny-bows parasol.

Doesn't share an island with anyone, but is always having shadows play with him on his island

Half the island is worked on the other half isn't. It's been this way for two years

Has a fairy-tale aesthetic (mostly greyscale)

His favorite villager type is dogs

His favorite villager is Cookie

Favorite event is New Years (for the fireworks) and Fireworks show

Favorite character is Redd

His current villagers are; Goldie, Cookie, Portia, Shep, Bea, Butch, Maddie, Daisy, Lucky, Bones, and Boom.

His original villagers were; Lucky, Sparro, and Bam

He has a small collection of cards. He only bought them to collect the dogs more easily but ended up giving up

Plays more than anything when he's injured

Item list; bone Tee, Cardigan School Uniform Top (beige), Two-tone Pants (yellow), Worn-out Jeans (light blue), Paper-bag Hood, Ski Mask (black), Halo, Cosmos Crown, Pacifier (baby gray), Pacifier (baby yellow), Aran-knit Socks (white), Cute Sneakers (yellow), Mary Janes (red), Vivid Socks (yellow), Nook Inc. Knapsack, and Eggy Parasol.

Shares an island with Horangi

Horangi plays way more than he does

Plays New Leaf more than New Horizons

Only really plays when regressed

Absolutely terrified of the bugs and will run away from them or yell until Horangi catches them

Their villagers are; Bangle, Bianca, Claudia, Leonardo, Rolf, Rown, Tynalt, Patricia, Spike, and Merengue.

Their original villagers were; Bianca, Dozer, and Shari.

He really likes talking about animal crossing

He loves playing with people online

His favorite characters are Isabelle and Digby

Horangi conned him into having all the tigers

Island Aesthic is kid core (he begged Horangi)

He has ALL the fruits

[nordrubber]

This time not in the country with heavy green rainwear and -boots. But a nice rainy and stormy walk in the city. Of course in "light casual city wear": Black Viking rubber boots, black Blakläder rain jacket with nice reflective stripes on front and back and Ocean high visible rain pants. Do you like this outfit, guys?

[pjmslave]

***WARNING*** this becomes quite intense and heartless. Consume at your own risk.

Dalek Invasion “Fall BACK! For GOD’S SAKE, FALL BACK!” Private Dirk Schmitt heard in his ear piece. He had never heard Sargeant Montgomery scream hysterically. And Sarg had been screaming this into his left ear for at least five minutes now. The reason was obvious. It only took a quick glance at the alley way in front of him. The alley way was littered with his fallen comrades. There were not dead, but they were destine for a fate worth than death. At least that is what the rumors said.

The rumors said if you fall in combat with the enemy then you come back to fight as the enemy. Because of these rumors, Dirk had tried desperately to pull Malcome, his best friend, with him as he retreated. Dirk had tried to shake Malcome awake, but he had failed. Malcome had remained completely dead weight. Dirk had finally decided that trying to save Malcome meant that he would be shot down as Malcome was. Now Malcome was well behind the front wave of enemy troopers.

While another members in his company was laying down cover fire, Dirk moved to a position behind the next trash skip in the alley way. Not that cover fired meant anything in this fight. The enemy troopers were impervious to their bullets. The enemy troopers appeared to have some kind of energy field that stopped their bullets a good two meters in front of their skirmish line. Regardless, Dirk took up the job of sending a wave of cover fire down the alley way while his other mates retreated back towards the main street.

While sending as many bullets down the alley way as he could, Dirk got a look at the troopers advancing towards him. Each and every one of them appeared to stand more than two meters tall. Each were heavily muscled. Dirk thought out loud, “Damn, my professional body building mates would be jealous of their muscles.” They all were covered in what appeared to be a heavy black rubberized one piece suit that started just below their jaw lines until it disappeared into their knee high heavy leather boots. On top of this base layer of clothing was what appeared to be various hard plastic body armor. This amor was black with colorized lines just at the sternum. The colorized line was the only variation among the opposing troops. Some lines were a deep blue. Others were bright yellow. Others were bright red. Occasionally, Dirk would see trooper with a dark green strip, but those mainly were deep behind the enemy front line.

There was additional armor below their waist with shielding on the front of their lower extremities with a black plastic knee cap. Same with their arms. Except Dirk noted their lower left arms were covered with the various style of weaponry they were using. Group Red and Group Yellow’s weapons started at just below their left elbow. It covered their left hand completely if they still had a left hand. It then had a long slender stick capped in a red or yellow ball.

Dirk noted that each time one of these troopers unleashed the power of their weapon, their left arm pushed back at least a half meter. Because of this, Dirk surmised the energy bolts that shot out of the tip of this weapon must have packed a huge punch for anyone struck by the bolt. It was obvious to Dirk that these bolts were intended for single targets. It was the troopers with the blue strip that were the most dangerous. The energy bolts that shot out of their left arm spread out as it moved down the alley way. Anyone caught in this growing energy field fell where they were.

As he discovered with his best mate, Malcom, those that were hit by the blue energy field were not dead. They became incapable of movement. Any movement. They froze and toppled over. Their body completely fixed in the position they were in when they were hit. Dirk was certain that this method of capture caused many broken bones as the now paralyzed person toppled to the ground. The capture party would still breathe though. At least Malcome continued to breathe after being hit by the blue energy field. Even though Dirk was not absolutely sure, he did think individuals caught in the blue energy field remained conscious.

Dirk could not think of a more horrible way to go. To be reduced to just a body on the ground, waiting to be harvested by the troopers that had a green strip. Dirk had seen what the green troopers did to his pals. The left appendage appeared to be of a medical derivation. The green troopers would inject something into the necks of a body on the ground. Dirk was not sure what this did to his mates, but it could not be good. All Dirk saw was the body relaxing and then his mates, one by one, would let out a scream that sounded as if their body was being pulled apart bone by bone.

After they stopped screaming, Dirk would then watch each of his mates return to a standing position only to dissolve in a field of red light. Dirk could not even begin to imagine what it would feel like to just ‘dissolve’ to nothing. He did know being dissolve was something he did not want to experience.

“Right side, cover fire. Left side fall back!” Dirk wondered why they were even doing the cover fire. It was a waste of bullets. The enemy troopers did not appear to be slowed down by his or his pal’s bullet barrage. Their speed was more of component of just how many of his friends that had fallen. Dirk felt sorry for each and every one of them. They did not deserve to be dissolved. They did not deserve to be sent into a combat situation against troopers who were so much more advanced.

Dirk heard the other side of the alley start with the cover fire. He turned to his left. He had just started to stand up to sprint when his body was caught in a field of blue energy. As he fell forward onto his knees, he heard in his left ear, “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! They got Dirk. Fuck this shit! EVERYBODY RUN! EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!”

Dirk did not see the result of this order. He slowly toppled onto his right buttocks then onto his back. He could see the cloudless sky beyond that top of the building around him. He thought to himself how beautiful the sky was today. “Such a beautiful day.” Dirk thought to himself. He might have said it outload, but he knew he was now paralyzed. Dirk did not notice that he remained in the semi-crouched position as he rolled onto his back. His entire focus was on the beautiful blue sky. Dirk wondered why he had not notice just how beautiful the sky was today.

As Dirk was taking in the sky, multiple blue energy fields were shot down the alley way. Dirk only noticed them as they changed the blue color of the sky. He did not notice the reports of who was falling to the blue energy flooded his left ear. Names were being announced. Dirk found that while he heard the names they did not exactly register in his mind. Nor did it register when the dialogue ceased in his left ear.

Dirk saw the front of the enemy’s skirmish line pass him. A few minutes later one of the enemy troopers with a green strip down his chest plate moved into his eye sight. Dirk’s eye took in the slender needle attached to the end of the trooper’s left arm. Dirk’s mind felt the prick of the needle into the left side of his neck. Dirk remained focused on the sky until he felt his brain catch fire. Dirk has never felt anything so painful. Dirk heard someone screaming. Dirk took a deep breath. During this moment, Dirk noticed the screaming stopped. When Dirk started to breathe out, Dirk heard the screaming restart. Even with this evidence Dirk never realized it was he that was screaming.

When the fire that was in his brain began to dissipate, Dirk recognized the trooper who was tending to him. It was Corpsman Rodriguez, Jaimie to his friends. Corpsman Rodriguez had came with him from the U.S. of A. to assist in the fight against the invaders from space. He had been provided a position in The Royal Army Medical Corps while Derik was provided a billet in His Majesty's Armed Forces. He had been to see Corpsman Rodriquez multiple times. One time on the down-low to stitch up a nasty cut he had gotten while pub hopping. He liked Rodriguez. Well, he had like him. Now he was an enemy trooper that had injected some mind altering substance into his body.

Derik noted the lack of recognition on Rodriguez’s face. He wondered what had been done to Rodrigeuz. He wondered if the same would be done to him or would he just dissolve in a red light like the rest of his mates. Before Derik could arrive at a conclusion another enemy trooper marked with green slipped something onto his head. This head gear covered his ears and his eyes. The sounds of the on-going battle faded. It was replaced with white noise entering his ears and a kaleidoscope-like display into his eyes.

Derik was unsure where the need to stand originated, but he pushed his body up to a standing body. Without even thinking about it, he felt his body snap to attention. Moments later, he was engulfed in a red field. Derik managed a sigh. He was to be ‘dissolved.’ At least he gave ALL to the defense of his planet…

Derik did not loose consciousness. He found he had just moved to another location. The white noise sounds and the kaleidoscope-like display continued. His mind became confused. Thoughts. Images. Feelings. Everything in his mind felt foreign. Even his body felt foreign. It was all as if his body and mind, even his soul, was now owned by someone…or something else. Derik began to feel he was no longer in control. He was being dominated by a powerful person…thing. A force he knew would subjugate every sub atomic particle in his body and mind.

Derik felt his left arm curl upwards. He focused on his left hand for a moment. He was confused. He had flesh and blood fingers. Flesh and blood hand. Flesh and blood wrist. He knew this was not correct. A Dalek slave’s left appendage was made from a powerful death ray. Dalek Earth Slave Two Three Two Five Zero One, code named Dalek Slave Derik left appendage was a death ray. Dalek Slave Derik exterminated all that opposed the will of the Dalek Supreme. This was Dalek Slave Derik’s purpose.

Dalek Slave Derik felt its mouth exclaim “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” Dalek Slave Derik felt its exterminate appendage move into position. It felt the commands to exterminate flow from its brain to the exterminate appendage. It felt the appendage fire its exterminating charge as the appendage was forced back with each charge it expended. Dalek Slave Derik saw images of inferior humans dissolve in the energy beam that consumed their bodies. Dalek Slave Derik felt waves of pleasure as it fulfilled the command given by the Dalek Supreme.

Dalek Slave Derik heard a query. “What is it?”

“It is a Dalek Slave!”

“What is its purpose?”

“Obey the Daleks.” “Serve the Daleks. “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!”

Dalek Slave Derik caught a glimpse of itself as it was being marched to a new location. He looked identical to the other Dalek slaves. Knee high leather boots. Heavy rubber black under layer from its knee high boots to its chin level. Black plastic armor covered most of this rubberized under layer. A red strip on its front. It also knew there was a red strip down its back so it could be easily identified as an exterminating Dalek slave. Its left arm in the up position. A death ray attached where its left hand had once been.

Dalek Supreme picked Dalek Slave Derik’s targets. Generally, humans who would not offer any benefit to the Dalek Supreme’s plans for domination of this pitiful planet. Humans that could not or would not serve the Dalek Supreme well. Injured humans. Small humans. Old humans. Dalek Slave Derik was incapable of remorse. It served the Dalek Supreme without question. Its minimal thoughts programmed by Dalek Supreme. Dalek Supreme required strong humans to serve the Daleks.

The humans that were not exterminated were processed by the green back Dalek slaves. Medical slaves. Dalek Slave Jaimie began the processing on one human into a Dalek Slave, then he moved to the next human to be processed. He, too, obeyed his programming without remorse. Dalek Slave Jamie knew what was done to his brain. The robotization was quick and highly efficient. The human was placed into the processing chamber. Its scalp was surgically removed. It was then duplicated and then the human scalp was discarded. The duplicated scalp was made of a high durable clear plastic. From this plastic scalp a hundred billion almost microscopic wires hung down. Once these wires contacted the human brain, the bore deep into the target brain making a connection with all the brain cells of the brain.

Once the human brain had been fully wired to the Dalek command and control system, the wires either forced control of the brain cell to which they were attached, or quickly exterminated the brain cell. Within the span of eight minutes, a human became fully robotized with little of its former personality left. Not quite a new individual, but very close. And so subjugated by the Dalek’s command and control system. There was no attempt to escape by this point as the very concept of escape had been detected and then deleted from their slave programming. The emotional center as well was detected then deleted.

The Dalek Supreme absorbed the data HE was being given. The military was on the run along with all the humans on this out cropping into the Thames. The mass of humanity was moving north away from the Dalek controlled area. It did not matter. It had been expected. The Dalek Supreme split his forces into three groups. One would move slowly north. One would cross the river to the outcropping of land into the Thames to the east. And the third, with the assistance of their robotized humans, would begin to build a processing center unlike anything this puny planet had ever seen. Eight Billion potential Robomen and unprocessed slaves to be used and abused. The Dalek Supreme estimated that two billion could be robotized. This was all that was necessary to subjugate the planet. What happened to the rest of the population was not worth considering. They would either serve the Dalek Supreme or not. Their choice. Of course if they choose not to they would be exterminated.

[plutonicbees]

outfit descriptions under cut bc I could not do them justice in the 80 character limit

[infinite-riches]

The Brightest Blue Is You

Summary: But the most blue was his eyes.

Eyes that didn’t recognize him anymore. And a smile that was hidden away behind a mask.

Or: A soulmate AU where relationship milestones "unlock" things related to your fated partner (I'll add more details for this concept in the author's notes to prevent spoiling things). Ghost is face to face with the man who is supposed to be his soulmate but everything is still ~off~.

(This piece is based off images from the MW3 Season 4 trailer)

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Word Count: 1329

Warnings: Mentions of Blood, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Emotional angst/comfort

A/N: AU Concept: Hitting milestones w/your soulmate "unlocks" certain things. You can't see the color of their eyes (it appears grey until you see your soulmate) at all- if their eyes are green then the grass is grey until you find that person, etc. The base notes of their scent are subdued until your first hug/cuddle. You can’t taste your soulmate’s favorite sweet until your first kiss (basing it on Cranachan [a traditional Scottish dessert of cream and fresh raspberries, bolstered by Scottish oats and whisky] for this piece).

-----

So… it's been a while. I hope you enjoyed this- honestly, I'm a little unsure about it. In a perfect world, I'd want it to be longer but my brain just isn't letting me get there.

And as always feel free to leave feedback/constructive criticism <3

AO3 Link (if you prefer): The Brightest Blue Is You

His legs gave out as the rubber sole of his assailant’s boot made contact with the back of his knee. Pain shot up through his body as he made contact with the street. His head was already swimming, warm blood seeping into the dark fabric of his mask, knuckles aching from the punches he had landed. His gun was long gone, lost to the fight some time ago.

The bombed-out city was a blur of twisted metal and busted concrete, orange flames reaching high into the deep blue night sky, stars just starting to shine. In any other situation, Soap would’ve commented about how beautiful the sky was. 

He could hear the clink of buckles and gear as the man stood behind him. The metal felt cold as ice against the back of his head, and the sound of the gun cocking sent a chill down his spine, even despite the heat of his love behind him. 

“Save you a seat, LT.”

Blue.

The color nearly knocked Ghost off his feet. It was the only color he hadn’t been able to see, until now. 

That one look had changed his entire life. Something he was sure he didn’t have. Something people like him didn’t get to have, was boarding a helicopter, the promise to save him a seat still fresh on his tongue. His soulmate. 

Blue. 

It was everywhere and he had never known. His shirt was blue. The night sky was blue. But the most blue was his eyes. 

Eyes that didn’t recognize him anymore. And a smile that was hidden away behind a mask. 

“Soap-” 

“Shut it.” He sounded wrong. This wasn’t his Soap. This wasn’t the man he had fought alongside for years. Not the man he would take a bullet for. His voice was harsh, his familiar Scottish accent buried away or maybe beaten out of him.

The unforgiving metal dug further into the back of his head, pushing him farther forward on his knees, the crumbling asphalt below unrelenting. “Now, where’s your captain?”

He looked like his Soap, but his Soap wouldn’t willingly work for Makarov. Not the Soap that had tried to put a bullet in Makarov’s brain. “Soap-”

The pistol came down hard against his temple, a sickening crack ringing out into the night.

The blood pouring from his arm finally slowed, Ghost making quick work of dressing the handiwork of a shadow. 

He was flagging, eyes fluttering shut even as he fought the urge to sleep. Ghost could see how far the man had pushed himself to make it out alive. So Ghost gave in, pulling the man close, tucking his head below his chin, trying to memorize every detail of the moment. 

Pine and fresh rain. 

It was subtle. And comforting. And perfectly him. 

He had never understood what people meant when they said it smelt like rain. Now it made perfect sense and he never wanted to go without again, never wanted to go back to that subdued version he lived with for so long.

“Did it for you, LT.” He wasn’t his usual chatty self, voice soft and laced with exhaustion as he buried himself in Ghost’s side.

“Did what, Johnny?” The Scot was fading fast, the modicum of security provided by Alejandro’s safehouse enough to lure the man to sleep. 

“Fought for you. Lived for you…” The last words came out a whisper, barely there but enough to leave Ghost reeling. 

Ghost blinked the memory away, fighting a quiet sort of sobbing that required every ounce of strength to maintain any semblance of composure. He pulled Ghost’s mask off and tossed it to the side, revealing tears streaking through dust and dirt and blood creeping down his pale skin. 

“I’ve been patient with you, Lieutenant. But now my patience has run short and I want answers.” Calloused fingers pulled at messy blond locks.

Like that night after Chicago.

He had never known what raspberries tasted like before that night. Before they tumbled into a tiny hotel room, one bed between the both of them and no complaints to be found. 

A few awkward moments passed until Ghost zeroed in on it- a cut right at his temple, blood still staining his skin. He fell back on his training, gently cleaning the spot with a warm rag, checking Soap over even though the medics had cleared him. He kept fussing over that cut until Soap pulled his wrist away. 

“Simon-”

“Almost lost you, Johnny. You were there, on that ledge…”

“Simon, look at me.” Ghost all but snapped to attention, ready to burn down the world if Soap asked. 

Warm hands slid across pale skin, up his neck, nudging the fabric of the mask higher and higher until it rested on the bridge of his nose. Pine filled his lungs as Soap leaned closer, warm breath dusting over waiting lips.

“I will never leave you.” The flavor was bright and sharp on his tongue, matching how he kissed him. So much passion and need but also, sweet. A perfect mix Ghost had never had before him. 

The blue that stared back at him now seemed dull. All blue has since that day. Now, he hated blue.

The barrel of the gun was against his forehead now. The silhouette of his lover towered over him as a flash lit up the night sky behind him, illuminating the rain that had begun to fall. 

If he closed his eyes he could pretend he was back at his flat, the taste of raspberries, cream, and whiskey lingering on his lips. But he couldn’t.

Whatever Makarov had done had stolen that from him. Gone was the infectious smile and bright laugh. Gone was the man he loved. 

“You’ve got five seconds, Lieutenant.” His finger shifted on the trigger and Ghost’s heart was shredding itself at the sight. “5… 4… 3-”

In an instant Ghost had both hands around his arm, pushing the gun into the skin of his forehead. The movement made Soap jerk, unsteady and surprised by the sudden action. 

Tears raced down his face as he held his gaze, grip strong, daring the man the pull the trigger. This wasn’t the man he loved. Not anymore. That man was gone and that left Ghost with nothing to live for. 

“I haven’t lived since I held your body in my arms.” His voice cracked. “Just kill me, please, Johnny. There is no living without you.”

Thunder shook the ground as lightning lit up the sky and he could see it. Could see the moment his Johnny realized what he was doing. Blue had never seemed so bright.

Soap dropped the pistol like it had burned his skin, and clutched the offending hand to his chest. The sound of metal hitting asphalt rang in Ghost’s ears as Soap fell to his knees, sobbing and curling in on himself. 

“I’m sorry- so sorry, Simon.” Over and over again, like a mantra, like it was the only thing grounding him. 

“Johnny-” Ghost was instantly reaching for the man, pulling his head into his chest just like in Las Almas. He could smell the rain again. 

His hands were shaking as he worked at the clasp of the mask, unlocking the vile thing and tossing it to the side. 

“‘M here, love. You’re safe.” They were a tangle of limbs and tears, drenched in rain and suddenly aching for the small shared space of their flat. 

“I didn’t- didn’t want to. Don’t know what he did to me-”

“It's alright, Johnny. I’ve got you.” His lips brushed against the star-shaped scar at Soap’s temple as if he could kiss it away. As if he could make up for all the pain that came after he left him in that tunnel.

“You… I-”

“Johnny, I will never leave you.” Ghost grabbed Soap’s face, pressing their lips together. It was a mix of tears and rain and raspberries. Raspberries had never tasted sweeter than in that moment. 

[xxmarcxline]

003 - THE LIGHT OF FREEDOM ON MY FACE - “enchanted!”

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Wolfstar!Daughter!Reader

ENCHANTED MASTERLIST!

By no means do I support R*wling’s biased views! This profile is meant to be a safe space promoting escapism <3

TW: none ( although, please feel free to message me if you believe i missed some!! )

THE FLYING CAR BEGAN ITS DESCENT, and soon enough, you were able to catch a glimpse of a dark patchwork of fields and clumps of trees.

“We’re a little way outside the village,” says George. “Ottery St. Catchpole.”

The edge of the brilliant red sun was now gleaming through the trees, its radiance, Harry found, reflected your own as you grinned at the familiar sight of the Weasleys’ residence.

“Touchdown!” said Fred as, with a slight bump, you landed — a tumbledown garage in a small yard to your right, Harry looking out for the first time at Ron's house.

In all truthfulness, it was run-down, for lack of better term. The structure appeared unreliable at best, as though originally a large stone pigpen, but renovated to fit extra rooms and reach several stories high. It had been so crooked, staggering like the lightning-shaped scar on your friend’s forehead; however, like the mark etching his skin, magic had built and kept it ebbed stubbornly along the grassy surface.

Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign was stuck in the ground near the entrance reading, ‘THE BURROW’. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.

“It's not much,” said Ron, rubbing a self-conscious hand along his forearm. He looked around the wooden walls of his home in uncertainty, just as he had when you first came over — a subconscious sign of his insecurity.

“It’s brilliant,” Harry was quick to react happily, thinking of Number 4 Privet Drive and the horrors he associated with its pale, perfected walls.

“It’s nothing short of wonderful,” you followed, smiling at the three brothers, meeting their silent gazes. As you exited the vehicle, the sun’s warm rays cast upon you, moving silently as your shadows crept towards the door.

“Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly,” said Fred, throwing a cautious glance at his surroundings, “and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast.”

He turns to face you and his younger brother, “Then, you lot come bounding downstairs, Ron going, ‘Mum, look who turned up in the night!’ and she'll be all pleased to see you and Harry, and no one needs ever know we flew the car.”

You raised an unimpressed brow at their careless grins. There were so many ways this could go wrong. . . for them. But you were never one for wiping off the twins’ smiles, no matter how stupidly aggravating their cheshire grins could be.

“Right,” agreed Ron, nodding his head in full agreement. He doesn’t give you a second glance as you go, guiding Bowie atop your shoulder. “You know your way to Ginny’s room, I’m sure. Now come on, Harry, I sleep at the top—”

Harry found it odd how his friend simply stopped, going a nasty green in complexion. Meanwhile, you exuded the opposite reaction, grinning goofily and waving madly, gaze set out the kitchen window. His eyes followed yours, blowing wide as he spotted Mrs. Wesley marching across the yard. Chickens scattered, Bowie took cover behind your hair, and for a short, plump, kind-faced woman, Harry found it remarkable how much she looked like a saber-toothed tiger.

“Ah,” muttered Fred.

“Oh, dear,” mumbled George.

“‘Ello, Molly!” you exclaimed shamelessly as Ron gulped. He appeared close to tears, you mused. How funny.

All of the above were telltale signs of the trouble you five were undoubtedly in, and if Harry had known any better, he would have taken off running and not looked back. But he didn’t, a stupid decision on his part, if Bowie were to say so himself. Mrs. Weasley came to a halt before the lot of you, her hands on her hips, staring from one guilty face to the next (then there was you, a smile peeking through her tough exterior for a brief moment). She was wearing a flowered apron with a wand sticking out of her pocket.

“Morning, Mum,” said George, grinning in what he believed to be a jaunty, award-winning means while you and Fred withheld a snigger.

“Where have you been?”

“Have you any idea how worried I've been?” said Mrs. Weasley in a deadly whisper.

“Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to—”

All three of Mrs. Weasley’s children towered over her, yet simultaneously, they cowered as her rage befell them.

“Beds empty! No note! Car gone — could have crashed — out of my mind with worry — did you care? — never, as long as I’ve lived — you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy —”

“Perfect Percy,” muttered Fred bitterly.

“YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY’S BOOK!” yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred’s chest as her voice rose an octave higher. At that, even you flinched, taken aback. “You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job —”

“They were starving him, Mum!” You were unsure how you felt about your friend speaking up. But you were all for liberation, so, nonetheless of your conflict, you internally cheered him on. “They put bars on his window!”

“Well, you best hope I don’t put bars on your window, Ronald Weasley.”

You loved Molly, you really did. But she had the ill temper of a mad dragon, burning fierce and easily triggered. You consider yourself lucky to be receiving special treatment from the woman — saving you the need to fear being on the wrong end of her fury.

It seemed to go on for hours. You had attempted to ease the boys of her full attention a good few times, although Mrs. Weasley had no intention of cutting her lecture short, shouting herself hoarse before she turned on the pair of you.

While Harry backed away on impulse, Bowie returned to the comforts of your pocket. Godric knows how greatly he fears the woman.

“Oh, darlings!” she beams, her deep frown fixing into a welcoming grin, “How wonderful it is to see you both! Come in and have some breakfast!”

You needn’t hear any further invitation before joining the family for a meal.

Long story short, life at The Burrow had been all but ordinary. Every day, you woke to the sound of small explosions from Fred and George’s room — having to comfort Bowie each waking moment —, and every night, you were kept up by the incessant racket of the ghoul in the attic. The howling creature was a pitiful thing. But your patience could only take so much, wearing thinner every time it had interrupted you and Bowie’s beauty sleep.

With summer coming to an end, it wasn’t long before you heard from Hogwarts again. It had been a sunny morning about a week after you had been welcomed into the Weasley residence. You were at the kitchen table, seated by Ginny Weasley (she always looked forward to your company, eagerly offering to trade all her brothers to gain you as a sister) when you heard the boys thundering down for breakfast.

You feigned ignorance as the younger girl stiffened up beside you, taken by amusement with how she fawned over Harry and the oh-so-holy grounds he walked on. You saw her pupils dilate into cartoon hearts, you swore. And as one would in a cartoon, her admiration blinded her from all else — including her bowl of porridge, until she knocked it to the ground with a loud clatter.

You sent Bowie a silencing look as he chittered merrily, poking fun at the mortified Ginny whose face glowed like the setting sun. Meanwhile, Harry, pretending he hadn’t noticed such interactions, sat down and took the toast Mrs Weasley had offered him.

“Letters from school,” uttered Mr Wesley, passing you identical envelopes of yellow parchment, addressed in green ink. “Dumbledore already knows you’re here, [Y/N], Harry — doesn’t miss a trick, that man. You’ve got them too,” he added as the twins ambled in, their hair askew, still in their pajamas.

For a few minutes, there was silence as you all read your letters. It was the usual, come to King’s Cross on September the first, the need for school supplies, and finally, there was a list of the new books you would need for the coming year.

‘Second-year students will require:

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk

Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart

Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart

Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart

Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart

Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart

Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart

Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart’

It was ghastly.

The man was one your father had spoken endlessly about, and not in the best sense. Upon every glimpse of his books the pair of you had encountered, his jaw would tick and he would give a subtle eye roll — one only you were trained well enough to see. He would go on about how Lockhart had gone to school with him, and how the Ravenclaw was most undeserving of his affiliations with the good house and his recent fame.

He was a freeloader, a credit-grabber. He would ask Remus to tutor him, and idiotically enough, he was able to provide the younger boy with the answers to his assignments, and all he would do was rephrase and reconstruct the wording. It was quite brilliant, yes, but it irked Remus to this day.

With that in mind, you couldn’t contain the grimace at the sight of that list. There was no way you would support his career by purchasing his books. No way in the seven bloody rings of hell.

Bowie, sensing your displeasure, was quick to attack the ink along the parchment, crossing every trace of Gilderoy’s name until it was but messy scrawls along ruined parchment. He made sure to keep the rest of it intact, however, that thoughtful beanpole.

Meanwhile, Fred, who took quite longer to finish reading his list, went to peer over at yours, eyes widening as he caught sight of the shredded patches. He instead turns to Harry’s. “You’ve been told to get all Lockhart’s books, too!” he said. “The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan – bet it’s a witch.”

At this point, Fred caught his mother’s eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.

“Or perhaps a fool. . .” you lowly muttered to yourself, wincing as you caught sight of Mrs Weasley’s tattered book displayed on one of the countertops. You’d momentarily forgotten you were in the company of a die-hard fan. And a fierce one, at that.

“That lot won’t come cheap,” said George, with a quick look at his parents. “Lockhart’s books are really expensive. . .”

“Well, we’ll manage,” said Mrs Weasley, but she looked worried. “I expect we’ll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny’s things secondhand.”

Just then, Percy walked back in. He was already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his knitted top.

“Morning, all,” said Percy briskly. “Lovely day.”

It was a wonder how he got up and ready for the day so early in the morning. You may have awoken earlier than him, but you were by no means ready to start the day. Your hair was quite a mess, and you were still in your knitted sweater and comfy pajamas. Most often, you would be able to start your day early. But today was not one of those days. Rather, any day at The Burrow was not one of those days.

He sat down in the only remaining chair but lept up again almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a molting, grey feather duster – at least, that was what the pair of you (Bowie and yourself. . . plus Harry) thought it was until you saw that it was breathing.

“Errol!” said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. “Finally – he’s got Hermione’s answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys.”

He carried Errol to a perch by the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again so you cringed as the thud echoed loudly in the silence, and despite Bowie’s defiance, you went to pick the poor creature up and balance it on its two left feet. The bloody creature had no sense of balance left — well, if it had any to begin with. Laying him on the draining board, you overheard Ron muttering, “Pathetic,” in much dismay.

Meanwhile, from over by the dining area, Harry admired your care for the rugged creature. He couldn’t contain the small smile that erupted his expression, admiring the gentleness of your gaze despite telling the poor creature off.

Whilst he paid attention to you, Ron made haste, ripping open Hermione’s letter, its contents spilling out, and read her long-awaited message aloud:

Dear Ron, [Y/N], and Harry if you’re there,

I hope everything went all right and that Harry is OK and that you both didn’t do anything illegal to get him out, [Y/N], Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. You both know how often [Y/N] gets injured, especially on the ventures that lack my assistance.

The majority, if not all your days as a first-year (that was an exaggeration, but it certainly felt like it) were spent wallowing (healing) on the second bed of the dull, cramped, sullen hospital wing. (Okay, that was yet again an exaggeration. It was clean and spacious enough, and well-kept, and Madam Pomfrey ensured it to remain as such. But by Godric’s beard, did it get tiring — its four walls became your home at some point or another. But at least, the madam was a good gossip, keeping you entertained during your stays.)

There was that one time a troll had knocked you against the bathroom wall, that “so-so” injury you sustained during that one quidditch match (“A broken arm is by no means mediocre, Ms. Black-Lupin!” you could hear Minnie’s yells echoing from a distant memory), those boils you’d gained from that one Potions class, that one encounter with Lord Volde— You cringed at the growing list.

Nonetheless, I’ve been really worried, and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl, might I suggest Hermes, or perhaps Hedwig, because I think another delivery might finish this one off.

I’m very busy with schoolwork, of course – “How can she be?” said Ron in horror. “We’re on holiday!” – and we’re going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don’t we meet in Diagon Alley?

Let me know what’s happening as soon as you can, love from Hermione.

“Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too,” said Mrs Weasley, starting to clear the table. “What’re you all up to today?”

Mrs Weasley woke the lot of you bright and early the following Wednesday. After a quick half-a-dozen eggs and bacon sandwich, you pulled on your coats and Molly took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.

“We’re running low, Arthur,” she sighed. “We’ll have to buy some more today. . . ah, well, guests first! After you, [Y/N], dear! Your father must be expecting you.”

And indeed he was. The pair of you had been exchanging letters almost daily throughout your stay at the Weasleys and agreed to meet at the Leaky Cauldron before heading off to buy your supplies. While some notes exchanged your plans for today’s awaited reunion, others contained sweet nothings and greetings, and others bore more pressing matters, such as your father’s well-being after the previous full moon.

Poor Moony had to deal with its aftermaths on his own this time around. . . You could only hope that your friends (the little critters that resided in the forest and those that took permanent residence in your room) were enough company to bring him some semblance of comfort while you and Bowie were away.

“I’ll meet you lot at Flourish and Blotts, yeah?” you turned to your friends for a moment, ignoring the puzzled gaze of Harry as Mrs Weasley offered you the flowerpot. You only smiled as he blinked in confusion, taking a pinch of glittering powder from the clay pot, stepping up to the fire, and casting the powder into the flames. You only faintly heard him ask about the wonders of the Floo network when a large emerald flame swallowed you whole upon exclaiming, “Diagon Alley!” and vanishing.

Remus had been looking forward to this day from the moment he waved you goodbye. It had been a quiet two weeks without your company, and he knew that it would be an even lengthier rest of the year with you off at Hogwarts.

There was something in his gut telling him that this year would be much unlike the last. Not in the sense that he would never see you again, but that. . . his yearning for you, his only daughter, would be strengthened twice fold. That something peculiar, even beyond Lord Voldemort’s reappearance the previous year, would occur.

Thus, he wished to make the most of the little time you had left before the school year began and planned to make it as memorable — if not more — than the last.

If only your (other) father were here to help him with that. After all, despite everything that went wrong, it was undeniable that Sirius Black loved his daughter endlessly. Once, the man compared it (his love) to the galaxy. Infinite and unmistakably immense. Neverending.

Your father always said he “loved you all the way from the moon, and to Saturn.” Always, he would say he loved you even more than that, but, like Saturn’s rings, his love for you orbited his entire world. It was his entire world.

But then again, if that truly was the case, why did he leave? Why did he betray their friends? Although, Remus always made sure to leave that bit out of your bedtime tales.

Every night, as you grew up, unlike most parents who read their kids fairy tales and books, he would recount the stories that consumed his youth. He would recall his days at Hogwarts, the escapades that filled the four marauders’ nights, and the laughter that filled their halls by day.

As much as he despised the love of his life for betraying you both as he did, for depriving your childhood of any sense of normalcy, he couldn’t bear to tell you such a thing. That your father, who claimed to love you so, had left you behind to serve the dark lord. That in his madness, he got himself sentenced to life in Azkaban, never to be seen again. Or so he could only hope.

His secrecy did little to shield you from the rest of the world, however. It was inevitable that you learn of what happened (or what was said to have happened), just as it was inevitable to recognize the fear, pity, and distaste in some passerby’s eyes. But you were strong. You did not let that deter you, if not for your own sake, then for your father’s, who worked tirelessly to provide for you both.

Remus, righteous as he was, was always too ashamed to take anything from the Black family vault, nor from Sirius’s own savings (which contained more than enough, mind you). Although, he did allow himself to use some of the latter to send you to school. He at least owed you that.

The rest, however, and all that you both spent as you walked the cobblestone path of Diagon Alley, he took from his own pocket. He enjoyed spending — so long as it meant seeing those light blue streaks highlight your head of hair.

He grinned as you shared a cup of butterbeer brittles from Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, (though, thanks to his familiarity with the owner, received it with a discount), sniggered as you nearly tripped, having stepped on a cracked stone, and hid a scowl as you joyously greeted one of the subjects of a pile of your letters home from the previous year.

Cedric Diggory knew not what he did to receive a strained handshake from your father, but he shook it off with a nervous smile as you waved him goodbye.

Striding down the rest of Diagonal Alley with an occasional smile, wink, and wave (you were quite popular amongst your peers, you learned the previous year), you caught a glimpse of a shop or two that caught your fancy. There was Ollivander’s Wand Shop, where you’d received your wand (the old man noted it a peculiarity, albeit you hadn’t a clue why), then there was Quality Quidditch Supplies, where you made your rounds, though exited with nothing.

Finally, you reached Flourish and Blotts, where you were immediately tackled into a hug.

Hermione Granger, hair bushy as ever, had weaved through the crowd to greet you after a summer away from one another. You missed each other greatly, yes, but you seem to have underestimated just how much.

“Oh, [Y/N], how I missed you!” Exhibit A.

“‘Mione, oh, love of my life! You haven’t a clue how I missed you! In fact, the parchments of my notebook are drowning in inked sonnets of just how much!” Exhibit B.

“You’re exaggerating,” she hid a grin behind a shake of her head.

“Oh, but I’m really not,” you blinked innocently in reply. Indeed, you really weren’t.

In your trunk was a notebook filled with little things you had noticed about your best friend — how her eyes set alight when she reached certain parts of her books, how she straightened in her seat and furrowed her brows upon a particularly page-turning plot twist. You noticed it all, and being the poet daughter of a Black and Remus Lupin, you turned these simple moments into words, etching them along the pages of your notebook, and on occasion, annotating them by particularly relevant lines of your books.

Truth be told, there was once a time you mistook your affections for her to be beyond platonic. You thought, at some point or another, that Hermione Granger would be the person you would love silently for the rest of your life. But of course, you were only twelve. What could you have known about love?

Not far later, you traded those faux butterflies with the realization and contentment of a sister. That was what you were to Hermione Granger, and what you learned, she truly was to you.

That didn’t stop you from admiring the beauty in her simplicity, however. Rather, you carried on, albeit, now also noticing the others that composed her background. You would smile wider upon Blaise and Theo’s bickering, giggle (though you despised the word) more heartily at the tickle of Bowie’s movements, and drown in grief, albeit momentarily, as professors spoke of your likeness to your fathers, once believing you to be out of earshot.

But that was nothing. You would shrug it off after a moment or two.

Like then, you went on with the remainder of the day. After a short reunion with your friends, Blaise and Theo, as well as a mini meet-and-greet with your father’s favorite schoolmate (he wished to strangle the man in his place), you ran into a bit of trouble with your not-so-distant relatives, the Malfoys.

Lucius was pretentious as ever, taunting Arthur Weasley and your father for their blood and financial status, while his spawn, Draco, was unbearable as the previous year. He, like his father, simply had to taunt Harry with every waking moment, and in doing so, only managed to piss off the rest of his company, and in particular, a temperamental metamorphmagus.

In later retellings and biographies of your life, some would state that it was accidental magic on your part that dropped a particularly heavy book atop Malfoy Senior’s head. Meanwhile, others would say you knew exactly what you were doing, and performed some degree of wandless magic or that you had simply thrown it with your fantastic, Quidditch Chaser aim.

You couldn’t be bothered to correct any of them.

It wasn’t long before dusk made its return, the sun slowly setting to signify the day’s end. Exchanging brief promises of “see you later”s and meetings at the train, you eventually parted ways, gripping your father’s hand as you headed in the direction you first came.

It wasn’t long before you disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind a proud set of twins, a starstruck Ginny, a content Ron and Hermione, and a wistful Harry.

The boy was smiling to himself again, staring at the grounds you once stood. It was a strange, dopey-looking smile that left Hermione amusedly rolling her eyes at her friend.

“A sickle for your thoughts?” she asked him, breaking him out of his [Y/N]-induced daze.

“What?” he could only stammer in response, blinking up at Hermione in confusion.

“I see the way you look at her, Harry,” Her tone was almost teasing as she smiled at him. “Don’t worry though. You have plenty of time to win her over.”

“I’m sure of it.”

He couldn’t be bothered to deny her insinuations. After all, it was useless to argue against Hermione — she wasn’t even wrong to begin with. She never was.

Harry took comfort in her words. She was right. He had more than enough time to win over your affections. It couldn’t be that difficult — if Cedric Diggory and Oliver Wood could do it within a year, why couldn’t he? And he had seven!

What could possibly prevent two best friends from becoming more than that?

Meanwhile, as night came upon London, a young boy of the name Edmund Pevensie, gazed out his windowsill in contemplation.

Earlier that day, he had overheard his parents speaking of sending him, alongside his four siblings to a family friend — some professor, if he remembers correctly. He recalls his mother fretting, expressing her worries about the four of them, when they heard a distant creek along the wood of the floor.

They retreated into their room, and somehow, Edmund couldn’t make out a sound.

The rest of the night, he was left to worry, silently and to himself, of whatever was to await them in the coming days.

TAG LIST 🏷️

@mythicalmo @edmundstxrch @jjsblueberry @v1ckycheesue

( Leave a comment if you wish to be added to future tag lists ^^ )

[zoesrepository]

Franish

[hiveswap]

I am a plains kid, irrepairably so. Having been born into an environment like mine has many effects on people: it can invoke poetry, instill a deep fear of heights, make them spit their lungs out from the slightest elevation of terrain.

I believe i recieved most of these gifts, though I don't believe the great flat fields are anything to write poetry about. There's fields of canola and wheat, sunflowers as far as the eye can see, and further east there's wild grasslands and mirages on the road in the summer heat, then further out, old wells that define so much of what the average Hungarian pictures when they think of Hortobágy.

I grew up next to water, not the clear blue water of Balaton or the salt spray of the sea, but a green river with jagged stones, sticky clay and husks of plants that pierce your foot if you dare bathe in it without shoes.

In the spring the mosquitoes and frogs and mayflies and weeping williows awake and fulfill their puprose as intended by their mother.

I have never seen a mayfly bloom, I cannot write poetry about that either.

In the summer, the buzz of tourists from far away fills my ears just as loudly as the buzz of the mosquitoes, who are so great in number that I begin to fear approaching our raspberry bushes in broad daylight. My mother still harvests it, in rubber boots and thick protective clothes.

There is nothing more to my town, i realise every year. When the tourists go, the lights of the festival and the faint smell of weed dies out, all that is left is ten thousand people struggling to get by, living in the remains of a town once known for better parties, better beaches, less mosquitoes.

About an hour north there's grapevines on the hills. I've tried to write poetry about those but I know nothing about wine, and nothing about the hills.

Yet further, between mountains not tall enough for fear yet tall enough to make me spit my lungs out as I walk, sits a city, one of men long dead and poetry long sung. I walk past a castle, and towers reaching towards the sky. Then I walk past a residential building pointing a molded, rotting finger towards the clouds.

I climb the staircase to the top of the tower and feel nothing, not the fear of heights and not the buzz of tourists on a wine tour.

Many hours south I see a mountain by a sea, the road on top so high above pristine blue waters that looking to the side makes my heart jump, just like when I saw the Balaton as a nine year old on my first summer trip with a mother who packed both our bags all alone.

Many hours south even from there, sits a continent forgein to me, just across the waves. I don't speak the tongues of the people in either of these places.

I feel a wave of safety, just a small wave of poetry. I will only ever return here as a stranger, as part of the buzz of tourists from far away.

I am not a poet, I do not write about the places I am a part of. I am an ill fitting brick in the wall of my homeland, i am a passerine migrating for the winter and feeling the vertigo of mountains and the stillness of the plains.

I will never see poetry in the plains, in the brick wall, in the mangled remains of a culture painted the sunset-colours of despair. I am a passerine building my lone nest, I am a plains kid, irrepairably so.

[adventuretimetournament]

Grocery Shopping

First appearance: Marceline's Closet

Description: Her hair is worn in a high ponytail which hangs to her lower back with two strands on either side of her face. She is wearing a long sleeve purple shirt with a laced-up turtleneck-style collar with a frilled edge. She has on blue denim shorts and red boots.

Final Battle

First appearance: Come Along with Me

Description: Her hair is worn down and is the length of her body, with a strand in front of her face. She is wearing a blue witch's hat with a yellow buckle. She has on green rubber gloves, a long-sleeve white shirt, and blue jeans. She is wearing gray boots with white stripes which are laced up the middle.

[adreamoverlife]

my opinions on qsmp mc skins

because i havent written anything that can be posted yet but i wanna post something lmao

Soooo lets start off simple, Mikes is actually very fitting for him and honestly the cracked out eyes are an improvement from his more classic skin but i cant lie im taking points off because his like boxes look like they are waist high to me for some reason also like what are his shoes,,, are they like torn,,,, are they crocs wtf is on his feet

baghera ducky skin is so cute and very pleasant color palette but i cant lie i love her election fit more, i think the black and white is such a good contrast and i love that the suit isnt shaded to match the rest of the skin. i just wish it didnt sacrifice the colors on her hat :(((( still amazing though 10/10 professional ducky

This skin is like the platonic ideal of a minecraft skin to me. It's a skin from a decade ago and i can tell, the eye bright colors, shading like a noise texture, it's beautiful to me, truly iconic. Gegg forever. Also i know this is Not The Idea that he probably had while making it but i kinda love that his shoes looks like yellow rubber boots since he deals with a lotta electrical (redstone) wiring

I think Bagis skin is like top 5 for me, the dark deep red and green, her white hair being shaded with an almost deep pink, the blue in the eyes getting brought out with the light blue of the shirt. The feather in the hat is so cute. genuinely one of the best. 10/10

Now,,,,, Cellbit on the other hand.... His classic skin unnerves me. I think its the way the shading on his face looks like a dull beard but like,,, it doesn't extend to the sides of his face,,,, the greens a little too bright idk it just doesn't speak to me. His reboot skin on the other hand is giving everything the classic thought it was. Love that they made his fucking boots higher too lmao. Serving 2015 herobrines mansion npc

[cookeybg]

Unexpected Cohabitation a JonDami fic - Chapter 11

Title: Unexpected Cohabitation

Main Characters: Jonathan Kent and Damian Wayne (some of the others show up too, the list is too long)

Eventual relationship: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne (my fave)

Stuff to know: No capes, reverse robins, high school AU, no smut, no Brucie Wayne, I know nothing about sports but it will show up, (aaand I think that's it, will add more if it comes up)

Word Count: 1,147

[Here's my table of contents]

Part 3 - Chapter 11

Jon mucked up the last of the manure into the wheelbarrow, his strength had increased in the last three weeks he had been joining Damian in his chores. He refused to think of it as blackmail enforced labor and thought of it as helping, he was after all staying at his house for free. He stopped to rest against the shovel, his eyes catching on the only other human in the room. Damian joined him every morning, wearing the same type of hoodie and shorts he always did, that he was always able to keep pristine due to the fact that he never lifted a finger. He lounged on the bench located near the exit, his back resting against the saddle he used on Lady, engrossed in his phone. That in itself was strange, mainly because he couldn’t hear the sounds of the Cheese Viking’s game he was obsessed with. Not once had he commented on how slow Jon was, or what he was doing wrong, or that he should smile and think of the chores as training, that it built character. Damian sometimes sounded like an old man. Instead, he smiled and snorted at whatever or more likely whoever he was distracted with. “Should I take this to the compost bin?” A stupid question, he had been taking the manure to the compost bin every morning. Instead of Damian giving him a response, Alfred the cat meowed at him from atop a barrel. Jon had found out no less than ten cats lived in or around the manor, though he only ever saw one or two at a time. He hadn’t met all of them and just knew of them because Dick liked to talk. The orange cat, Ginger, tended to stalk the halls indoors while Alfred liked to mysteriously pop up, much like his namesake. Jon let the shovel fall noisily to the ground. “Oops.” Jon said carelessly. He ignored Damian’s glare, lifted the wheelbarrow by the handles and rolled it out of the barn towards the compost area. He could hear Damian follow him silently. He tipped the contents into the bin, when done he walked back into the barn to sit on the wooden bench. He took off the rubber work boots that he had been provided, for his chores, and replaced them with the ratty sneakers he wore to go on runs with Damian. When he stepped out he saw Damian leaning against the post of the corral’s exit, still on his phone. Jon frowned at the sight. He approached casually, his hands in the front pocket of his own hoodie. “All done.” Jon shrugged. Damian hummed and nodded in response. “So, are we going on a run or…” Jon huffed, waving his hand towards the offending phone, “you too busy?” Damian looked up at him through long black lashes, his green eyes looking a bit lighter in the morning sun. “Tt, it took you long enough.” “Well, if I had help, it would be much quicker!” “Didn’t you live in a farm or something, Corncob?” “No, I help at my Maw and Paw’s farm.” “Then why are you so slow?” Damian started stretching. “What had so much of you attention, anyways?” Jon pictured white hair and a black cardigan. Damian raised an eyebrow and bent at the waist to touch his toes. “I mean you normally talk to me, but you might as well not have been here today.” Jon huffed. “Aw, lonely?” Jon sputtered a denial, his cheeks warming up. Damian smirked and ran off leaving Jon to catch up.

The rest of the day had been uneventful. The only highlight of the day was meeting Jay at Journalism club during lunch, they had type up some of the article they were writing together and promised to meet up again after baseball practice to finish up. Jon stood stretching his legs out after the brutal run Coach put the whole team through, daydreaming about asking Jay out to eat somewhere, when his absent gaze caught the color white. He stopped short narrowing his eyes at the girl sitting under the shade of an old tree next to the bleachers. She was focused on her phone, one foot crossed over the other, back against the tree. Jon wandered over to get a closer look, his water bottle conveniently in the same direction. She was wearing a white crop top, which was seemed to be against school dress code, a black bomber jacket, black ripped skinny jeans and white high tops. The girl seemed to like to match. “Jon.” Damian’s voice startled him, nearly making him drop his water bottle. “What?” Jon whipped around to face him, slightly embarrassed at being caught. “I’ve been looking for you since lunch.” Damian put a hand on his hip, a frown on his face. “Oh sorry I was doing something for journalism.” Jon said. “I wont be home for dinner,” he lowered his voice, “Could you please make sure Bat-cow and Lady are in the barn and lock it up for me?” “Where are you going?” Jon tried not to look in the direction of Damian’s possible girlfriend. “Tt. It’s not really something I need to report to you,” Damian lifted a finger to stop Jon from arguing, “but, since you will be doing this favor for me…I’m going out with Colin and -“ “Damian!” The girl at the tree walked up to them, “are you done with practice yet?” Jon felt instantly annoyed at being interrupted, but he watched the tall girl stop a bit too close to Damian. “Yes, I just need to change.” Damian told her, then turned to Jon, “So, will you?” “Hi, I’m Jon!” Jon abruptly turned to girl, smiling the bright smile everyone seemed to like and extending his hand for her to shake. “Hi, I’m Nika.” She smiled back shaking his hand. “Jon-“ Damian bristled beside him. “Did you just transfer or…?” Jon kept smiling, ignoring Damian. “No, just visiting Gotham.” Nika said. “Oh? For how long?” Jon feigned curiosity. “For a bit,” Nika smirked, “Damian’s been making it a blast.” “Jon-“ Damian tried again. “He’s showing me around town again tonight.” Nika purred grabbing Damian’s hand. Jon stared at their hands, at their intertwined fingers, for some reason his heart squeezed. He then snapped his head up, his smile much more forced. “I gotta go, it was nice meeting you!” Jon turned, quickly walking away. “Jon-“ Damian caught up with him, he was headed in the same direction after all. “Yes!” Jon continued walking, “I’ll make sure the girls are safe and sound, go have fun with your girlfriend!” Damian stopped walking beside him. All he heard from him was a disgruntled “tt.” Jon ignored it, he did not look back. All he wanted top do was shower and leave. He couldn’t wait to hangout with Jay.

Not sure about this chapter but get ready for a bit of angst in the next one. Medical drama!