RP: Bloody Buggering Birthday
Date: 28 April 2005 (midnight)
Characters: Kingsley Shacklebolt
Location: Streets of Stoatshead Hill
Status: Semi-Private (Auror Patrol)
Summary: Kingsley decides he may be too old for this shite.
Completion: Complete
Kingsley did not want to become lost in thought during patrol. Constant vigilance was necessary whenever an Auror was on duty. Fuck that. Constant vigilance was necessary whenever an Auror wanted to remain alive. Constant vigilance was necessary whenever you didn't want your sperm captured and used against your will.
Seems even women like Susan had an angle.
Kingsley brought his mind back on to his patrol along River Road. Working without a partner meant he had to be doubly careful. Doubly because no one else was going to look after Kingsley Shacklebolt. Doubly because there wasn't anyone who would notice if he turned up missing. After all he was just a cock.
Seems even women like Susan didn't need him for anything else.
Kingsley stopped and looked at his watch, wondering how much longer he had left on his shift. Midnight.
His birthday. 45 years old and not a fucking thing to show for it. He was too old for this shite.
Kingsley stomped down all thoughts of his father, of his mother, of women, of Susan, of... Rita. He wondered if he showed up at Rita's door on his way home if she'd invite him in for a birthday drink or maybe a celebratory fuck. Maybe she'd even give him the translation to that damn letter she sent him for Valentine's Day. Maybe.
At least with Rita, he knew his sperm was safe. She was the last witch in the world who would ever want to become a mother. He could be pretty sure she'd blackmail someone across the channel for potions before she'd risk becoming pregnant.
Damn. It must be a cold day in hell if Rita was starting to look like a paragon of womanly virtue.
Fuck. Lost focus again.
Kingsley concentrated on his patrol. Imagined Mad-Eye keepin' watch, making sure he was practicing his vigilance. Yeah. That's it, one man more fucked up around women than he was. That worked for him. Kept him focused. Kept him vigilant. He was sure Alastor wouldn't mind. It was for a good cause after all. What else were mentors for? He could hear the man now, telling him get on with it already.
Fuck women. Fuck them all.
Only now, he wasn't so sure if he should hate his father. Fucking bastard.
Perhaps his mother was to blame. After all maybe she just decided to be responsible for her body too. Couldn't she have used something even if his father couldn't keep his dick in his pants?
"I bear the responsibility for what happens in my body, Kingsley." Yeah. Fuck. Lost focus again. Constant vigilance, remember?
Fuck. He was too old for this shite.
Characters: Kingsley Shacklebolt
Location: Streets of Stoatshead Hill
Status: Semi-Private (Auror Patrol)
Summary: Kingsley decides he may be too old for this shite.
Completion: Complete
Kingsley did not want to become lost in thought during patrol. Constant vigilance was necessary whenever an Auror was on duty. Fuck that. Constant vigilance was necessary whenever an Auror wanted to remain alive. Constant vigilance was necessary whenever you didn't want your sperm captured and used against your will.
Seems even women like Susan had an angle.
Kingsley brought his mind back on to his patrol along River Road. Working without a partner meant he had to be doubly careful. Doubly because no one else was going to look after Kingsley Shacklebolt. Doubly because there wasn't anyone who would notice if he turned up missing. After all he was just a cock.
Seems even women like Susan didn't need him for anything else.
Kingsley stopped and looked at his watch, wondering how much longer he had left on his shift. Midnight.
His birthday. 45 years old and not a fucking thing to show for it. He was too old for this shite.
Kingsley stomped down all thoughts of his father, of his mother, of women, of Susan, of... Rita. He wondered if he showed up at Rita's door on his way home if she'd invite him in for a birthday drink or maybe a celebratory fuck. Maybe she'd even give him the translation to that damn letter she sent him for Valentine's Day. Maybe.
At least with Rita, he knew his sperm was safe. She was the last witch in the world who would ever want to become a mother. He could be pretty sure she'd blackmail someone across the channel for potions before she'd risk becoming pregnant.
Damn. It must be a cold day in hell if Rita was starting to look like a paragon of womanly virtue.
Fuck. Lost focus again.
Kingsley concentrated on his patrol. Imagined Mad-Eye keepin' watch, making sure he was practicing his vigilance. Yeah. That's it, one man more fucked up around women than he was. That worked for him. Kept him focused. Kept him vigilant. He was sure Alastor wouldn't mind. It was for a good cause after all. What else were mentors for? He could hear the man now, telling him get on with it already.
Fuck women. Fuck them all.
Only now, he wasn't so sure if he should hate his father. Fucking bastard.
Perhaps his mother was to blame. After all maybe she just decided to be responsible for her body too. Couldn't she have used something even if his father couldn't keep his dick in his pants?
"I bear the responsibility for what happens in my body, Kingsley." Yeah. Fuck. Lost focus again. Constant vigilance, remember?
Fuck. He was too old for this shite.