A bunch of Animal Crossing fics (only male)

[gay-for-the-snz]

After awhile of inactivity, I decided to finally post something. Don't tell anyone on the Original Fiction board that I still haven't finished "Blue" (I swear I'm working on it!)

Anyway. I recently got New Leaf and got back into my Wild World, and thought that it might be kind of fun to try to write something with some of those characters? This is my first time on this specific section of the site, so I hope this will be a good first impression.

SO. The way this works is that it's going to be a bunch of stories contained under one heading/entry on here, with each story being posted in the comments below, using various humanized versions of characters from any of the games I've played. I will definitely take suggestions of characters to use (only/mostly male, though, I'm biased and picky). The stories are told from the perspective of the player, who in keeping with the games is a silent protagonist, that I have left without a specified gender. You can pop any identity you want on in there so it suits you. Without further ado, here we go!

 

 

Donation -- Blathers

 

 

                It was an average day. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. You had gone to the store a handful of times, interacted with the townsfolk, and wandered aimlessly awhile, before coming to a dead halt. There, resting on a signpost, sat the elusive Banded Dragonfly. Everything about it was magnificent to behold, from its silvery, translucent wings to the yellow bands it got its namesake from. You had never caught one of these beasts before, but you had certainly seen them whizzing about or occasionally ensnared in a lucky villager’s house. Now was your chance to have it and bask in the glory! Presuming you could actually catch it, that is.

                Stealthily as you could, with your net poised to strike, you crept closer to it. Flashbacks of swinging and missing, pitfall seeds, and being stung by the Scorpions all flashed through your mind. You tightened your grip on the handle. It was now or never. With as much strength and cunning as you could muster, you swung the net at the dragonfly. In a surprising turn of events, you actually caught it.

                Staring at the cage in your hands you faced a choice. This was the first one you had ever caught, and though you could probably sell it for a handsome sum and start paying off the criminally high mortgage you have, or you could donate it to the museum. Both were tempting offers.

                As you walked up to the front entrance of the Museum, you felt you had made the right choice. You had spent awhile wandering around, mulling over your options, and dusk had fallen. It was nearing eight o’ clock, maybe you could wander around the exhibits for a little while and catch K.K.’s performance after donating?

                You strolled into the large, open room and smiled. The Museum was beautiful in the evening, with pink bands of the setting sun shining through the stained-glass windows that lined the walls.

There, in the center of the room, stood Blathers, head tipped down as he slept. His ability to sleep standing up never ceased to amaze you. You approached the curator with a hint of apprehension. It was well into the hours that he should be awake, yet here he was still sleeping instead of smiling and greeting you with his wide, curious eyes.

“Blathers?” You spoke cautiously, not wishing to startle the man. Your efforts were in vain, however, as he went bolt upright before settling slightly.

“Terribly sorry…I get so…frightfully tired during the day, wot.” He gave a slight smile, rubbing lightly at his eyes with his knuckles. “So, by the by, might there be something with which I can assist you?”

You remained silent for a moment, unsure of whether or not you should correct him as to the time of day. You didn’t have to, however, as the clock on the wall began to chime, eight chimes sounding along with the town tune, the sounds of the hour filling the previously quiet night. He jumped in surprise, turning to the clock and staring blankly at it as if it was a puzzle he needed to decipher.

“Hoo! I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t realize how late it was, wot?” He smiled a tired smile, tugging the heavy jacket closer around himself. He wasn’t a large man, but the thick sweater vest and additional overcoat added a significant amount of bulk, and the wardrobe choice seemed out of place for the summer evening. His next actions thoroughly confused you. He turned away, hunching over and shuddering.

He remained in that position for a slight moment before turning back to face you, pushing his spectacles back up his face and returning something to his pocket. He quickly fumbled back for it, however, producing a brown and white checkered handkerchief. His eyes fell half closed, halfway to his face. His nose was long, delicate, and slightly upturned, and for a moment your attention was focused on the pink skin as it twitched slightly. A series of light gasps was followed by a shakier one before his eyes fluttered closed. His face disappeared into the cloth, his shoulders curling in and body shuddering.

He reappeared a second later, hesitantly dabbing at his nose. “Terribly sorry.” He murmured, a nervous smile flickering across his face. “I seem to have forgotten my manners in front of a patron.”

You simply watched him quietly, observing him, attempting to take in every detail. His face was pale, cheeks and nose tinged pink. The dark bags under his eyes gave the impression he hadn’t slept much, though you had just witnessed him sleeping earlier, possibly the only sleep he had been getting. His generally smart hairstyle was messy, his normal sweater vest being covered in a heavy brown jacket, the sleeves and coattails reminding you vaguely of wings. He was almost bird-like in appearance. A silly thought, certainly, but something about it stuck with you. Shaking the thought, you slipped down to The Roost, having a quick chat with Brewster about the making of tea.

You shelled out 200 Bells for a cup of coffee and sat on the barstool, preparing to get down to business.  The bald man hardly spoke, as was customary, yet he quietly produced a handful of teabags. “…Coo.” Was the only real verbal exchange on his end, but it spoke enough to understand his well wishes and thankfulness for your actions and patronage.

You snuck a glance toward the stage, holding the mug of coffee in your hands. The shaggy musician seated upon the old, faded stool was tuning his guitar repeatedly. You’d have to come see him perform later and get one of his songs for your house. He was a pretty good performer, from what you’d heard

You slipped out of the Museum, watching as Blathers teetered between awake and asleep, before hightailing it over to Tom Nook’s. He greeted you as always, his eagerness shining through the air of restraint and confidence he attempted to maintain. You ignored all the other things you could be wasting precious Bells on and walked straight to the table you needed. You picked up the white and Blue bag, handing over a few hard-earned Bells to purchase the Medicine.

Precious cargo in tow, you made your way back to the Museum, sprinting past well-intentioned neighbors that wanted to talk and trade useless garbage for the items you had meticulously collected or ask you to give them advice on what the cutting edge greeting or catchphrases are that they should use.

You arrived back in the Museum, medicine in hand, as you approach the once again sleeping curator. He coughs lightly before settling back down. You watch as his head bobs with each breath, the normally slicked back dark brown hair rising from its position in unruly strands, the elegant tresses that defiantly swooped upward and back from his face now drooping over his eyes and resting just above his nose.

His eyes opened slightly, meeting your own with one of the most tired expressions you’ve ever seen.

“Hhh…shoo! Heshoo! Hepshoo! Hepshoo!” A hitched breath was quickly followed by a series of somewhat soft, uncovered sneezes directed somewhere between your waist and neck. He sniffled, blinking owlishly at you as the situation was processed in his hazy mind. You could tell the instant what had happened clicked with him, as the normal rosy hue in his cheeks gave way to a brilliant crimson, a flurry of apologies being given. He only had a moment to speak, however, as soon the telltale hitching of his breath began to overtake his words.

“…and again, I must make clear how hhh-horribly sorry I am for what haahhh—happened. It was inexcusable and unsanitary to the hh­-highest hhh-! degree.” He grimaced, holding the sodden handkerchief between his slender fingers and waiting for the inevitable to come. And waited. And waited. And waited. He slowly lowered it after he was certain he had successfully managed to quell the tickle. “A fickle tickle, eh wot?” He gave a defeated smile at his wordplay.

You flashed back a smile you hoped would put him at ease, as you truly didn’t mind and knew he had little control over what looked to be the monster of a cold one of the villagers had had a few days back.

His face changed in an instant, and before either of you could understand, let alone prepare for what was happening, his head snapped forward with a throat scraping “HARSHOO!” that nearly doubled him over. His arms flailed in a vain struggle to keep balance, rocking back too far on his heels in compensation. He collided with the floor, ending up on his back staring at the ceiling. He remained motionless for a moment, mouth agape and eyes wide.

All you managed in response was a hurried blessing before scrambling to help him up, but he gave you a dismissive index finger asking you to hold on. He cleared his throat, readjusting a yellow spat back over the white shoe it protected, smoothing out the legs of the brown trousers and sleeves of the matching jacket. He straightened himself back up to height, attempting to regain his composure.

“I noticed you, erm, had some medicine. I realise you have paid your Bells for it, and it isn’t polite nor appropriate to ask given the events of this evening, as well as the, erm, social protocols between me as the curator and you as the patron of our fine Museum. But…well, to be blunt, might I be able to convince you to part with it?” His eyes were locked upon the small blue bag clutched protectively against your body.

You handed the bag to him, and with no fuss he swallowed its contents, sighing afterward with a mixture of disgust and relief. “I cannot express my gratitude toward you enough, but I can at least begin by scratching the surface with a simple ‘thank you’, eh wot? I must say, thanks to you I’m feeling rather like my old self again.”

Moral obligation fulfilled, you turned to leave, smiling at the man over your shoulder. He called after you as you walked off.

“Thank you for your patronage. We—I—appreciate your support immensely.”

[JQLovesSneezes]

YOOOO this is going to be such a fun thread.  I love this fic, and I love all the Animal Crossing games, I've been completely obsessed with New Leaf lately. xD This fic really is awesome, Dude! I can't wait to read more.  

[Nas]

OMG Animal Crossing!!  I like that you personified the animals. Like wow I'm actually blushing so hard rn  Blathersssss. I like how you've characterized him. Great job!

 

Looking forward to reading more!

[jano]

Aw, he's is one of my favorite characters from the Animal Crossing series! Poor flustered Blathers...Your description of his human version is wonderful. This is very cute!

As for requests, the cranky villager personality has always been my favorite, maybe one of those? Can't think of many off the top of my head aside from Wolfgang or Rolf, it's been ages since I've played! If not a villager, Cyrus from New Leaf?

[gay-for-the-snz]

It has been a hot minute since I've updated, but hopefully, this is acceptable? I'm hoping to have the next update up a lot quicker than this one! Hopefully, this works for your cranky villager request? If not let me know and I can try again  Enjoy!

 

                You walked past the trees, watching the clouds drift lazily through the sky. It was cold out, and snow crunched beneath your feet as you walked up to Avery’s house. You hadn’t seen him all day, but the lights were on in his house, so you took the liberty of letting yourself in.

                You were shocked when you saw him, with dark rings under his eyes as he sat close to the firepit. He looked up, surprised to see you enter.

                “Hey.” He croaked, wincing and touching a hand to his throat. “What’s the deal? Are you lost?” He gave his aquiline nose a rough rub as he spoke, standing up and stretching his aching muscles. You couldn’t help but find him an impressive looking man, with broad shoulders, striking eyes, and a prominent nose. He was a rough and tumble Texan man, but you had grown close enough to know that he was a bit of a softie inside.

                His eyes glazed over, a hand reaching about halfway to his face as he froze. You were about to ask what was the matter, before he snapped forward into his hand, releasing a wet, throat-scraping “HAARRSHOO!” He sniffled, rubbing more at his nose and sighing in annoyance.

                He caught your concerned gaze and waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine. Just a bit of a cold.” He shrugged, settling back into his position on the floor. “Probably got it from Nate. Kids these days, they just no respect for their elders. This creaky old body might just give out during one of these colds.” You couldn’t help but smile. He often referred to himself as an old man or a grampa, but you thought he wasn’t very old. Older than you, certainly, but not that old.

                “Did you need something?” You shook your head, seating yourself beside him on the floor. His house was warm and cozy, and seemed like a little piece of the old west was plopped right into town. He looped a protective arm around your shoulders. You could hear the noises in his breathing now that you were this close to him, and he coughed a few times in an attempt to clear it. He seemed to be having a rough go of it, and you felt bad. He had always looked out for you, now it was your turn to look out for him, somehow. You sat with him for a long while I silence, listening to the crackling fire. You could sense him tense up beside you, tightening his grip on your shoulders and squishing you against him.

                “Harshuh! HaARshuh!” He sneezed into his hand, sighing afterward and wiping his hand on his pants. “Sorry.” He groaned quietly, massaging his temples and rubbing at his nose again. You put a hand over his, gently rubbing it and trying to give it a reassuring squeeze. He looked, over giving you a soft smile. “Thank you.” He relaxed his grip, giving your back a pat before scooting a bit apart from you. “Don’t wanna get any snot on ya.”

                You grinned. He was ridiculous sometimes, but you loved him nonetheless. Here in his home, you were no longer the Mayor, and all your responsibilities melted away. You were just another person living in the town, and he was your neighbor and, dare you say it, a paternal figure you admired. He was like a burnt marshmallow. Rough on the outside and soft on the inside. He treated you well, though, and he had definitely grown quite a bit friendlier since you had first started talking to him. Back then he acted like he couldn’t stand you, or really anyone for that matter. He was always so cranky in the beginning.

                You carefully stood, minding the crackling fire. Honestly, it astounded you that he was so insistent on having the fire burning indoors. Of course, he always left the window open, but it still struck you as horrendously unsafe. Maybe something you should use your Mayoral powers to take care of. It was also no wonder that he had managed to catch himself such a nasty cold, leaving his window open in the winter like he did.

                You walked out of the house, bundling your clothes closer around you. Goodness gracious, it got cold outside in the winter. You hot footed it back to your house, grabbing the bag of medicine you kept in case of bee-related emergencies. You stuck it into your pockets, grabbing the blanket from your bed and folding it up to bring as well. Better safe than sorry.

                You hummed, walking along the snow covered grass back to Avery’s house. Smoke billowed out the chimney, the light streaming out the windows. You steed in, seeing Avery leaning dangerously close to the fire. You gently shook his shoulder, sitting him back and watching. He sat up, snorting ungracefully and wiping away the spit from the corner of his mouth.

                “HUH!?” He blinked, looking around frantically. His eyes settled on you, and he yawned, rubbing at his eyes. “Must’ve fallen back asleep…what’ve you got there?”

                You offered the medicine, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Did you bring me medicine?” He gratefully accepted it from you, tearing the top off and downing the contents. He shivered, making a face of disgust. “Thank you. I’m starting to feel a little better already.”

                You scooted back against him, looping your arm around his waist. He was warm, and you liked cuddling against him. You glanced up at the uncharacteristically silent man. You softly nudged his arm, and he looked down at you for a brief moment before turning back to the fire. He softly rubbed at his increasingly red nose, accepting the blanket you wrapped around his shoulders, pulling you into it with him.

                He sat still, thinking deeply, brows knit together in contemplation. “You know, I have a niece…and I always wanted an angel of a daughter I could spoil rotten. I may not have settled down enough to have had one yet, but you’re a pretty good kid to me anyway.” He gave you a gentle smile and ruffled your hair. “You can always come to papa if you need somethin’. But not too often, you’ve gotta be self-sufficient enough to handle life for the most part on your own.”

                He stood, offering a hand to you. “Sorry I’m always cranky. But not sorry enough to change it! Gahaha!” He grinned before shooing you out of the house. “I’m gonna sleep off the medicine, but I’ll be fit as a fiddle tomorrow morning.”

                You walked back home, thinking about your papa. Such a stubborn, cranky man. He’d never change, but thankfully you didn’t want him to. You loved him, even if he was stubborn as they come.