#navy police dog

[nftmarket2050]

#604 , DOGS COLOR NFT , navy doggy , navy guard dog , navy police dog , navy dog

#604 , DOGS COLOR NFT , navy doggy , navy guard dog , navy police dog , navy dog

#doggo #dog #puppy #dogs #animal #pet #puppies #animals #doggo #doglover #dogscolor #colordogs #modeldogs #policedog #guarddog #colorfuldogs #pets #navydog #navy #NavySeals #navyblue #navylife #NavySEAL #navypier #NavyOrDie #navyRdie #navywife #Navygirl #navyfamily #navymom #NavyGirlfriend #navylove #navyfresh #navyveteran #navydress #Navyvet #navyandwhite #navyananda #navywedding #navy4life #navypride #navyyard #NavyForLife #navychief #NAVYBLUES #navysuit #navystrong #navyship

[kongchipachi95]

Pov: a handsome stranger has been seeing you on his walks when you have your morning coffee. A chance encounter leads to an even better encounter.

Warnings: penetration (female on top), male oral (receiving)

Wonwoo

It was your usual morning routine to sit and drink your cup of coffee at the cafe downstairs. There was something peaceful about the quiet of the pre-rush hour traffic that was calming to you. Keeping the routine long enough you started to notice the routines and habits of others.

There was the ahjumma that walked her little white cotton ball of a dog every morning at exactly 6:30am. An ahjussi walked out to buy the paper from the corner stand every morning at 5:45am and stopped to talk to whatever police officer was on patrol that morning. Then there was the young guy with glasses and a beanie who would slowly walk down the street at inconsistent times. He always had a professional camera hanging around his neck and if the lighting was right he would take pictures of the empty streets and the buildings. For the last two weeks you noticed that if the sky were a perfect blend of blue, orange and purple he would take a picture.

What you didn’t notice was that he was watching you. He noticed you the first night he walked out of the studio and decided to go for a walk. Given his line of work he enjoyed the quiet mornings he wouldn’t be spotted by his adoring fans. He used his beanie and glasses as a mask to hide his real identity and go unnoticed. But that one morning was different for him. He had walked down that same street from the studio many times before. He always passed empty streets, empty buildings. Even the 24 hour cafes were mostly empty as people took their americanos to go that hour of the morning. But there was a feminine silhouette sitting in the window of the cafe that caught his attention. From the angle he was walking, you couldn't see him behind the tree. He looked around and didn’t see anyone else in the street so he snapped a few shots of you. He walked by slowly, taking pictures of the buildings if he saw you looking in his direction. You looked so serene even though you were alone. It was like you were comfortable in your own solitary life, he wanted that for himself too. While he preferred being alone at home he didn’t actually want to be by himself. He wanted that comfortable silence you can only experience with someone like-minded and you looked like-minded to him. He was intrigued. In a world with constant connection with other people near and far on social media, it looked like you were completely disconnected from her phone. Who were you?

So for the next few mornings he would either leave the recording studio early or leave his apartment with enough time to get to the street the cafe was on at the same time. Some days he forgot his camera, some days he brought it to play it off. But everyday you sat in the same spot watching the people pass by and everyday he watched you while he tried to gain the courage to finally talk to you.

One morning he didn’t hear his alarm and ended up waking up 20 minutes later than he wanted to. He threw on his navy crew sweatshirt and gray sweatpants then quickly slipped on his adidas tennis shoes and navy beanie and ran out the door leaving his camera behind. He had half a brain to bring his fold top camera bag at least, however he completely forgot that he was experimenting with printing out pictures he had taken. In his bag, he had a bundle of the pictures he had taken of the mystery woman that had captivated his attention.

It had rained overnight so he was hopping over puddles trying not to slip and fall. He rounded the corner, grabbing his bag to hop over the puddle when he crashed into someone, knocking down their drink and spilling his pictures out onto the sidewalk, losing them to the puddles. He was so embarrassed he helped the other person up without looking at their face. The other person tried to help salvage the photos that were lost in the water but they held the picture of the woman in the window of the cafe up slowly. It was you.

When you had left the cafe slightly disappointed that you didn’t see the handsome stranger the last thing you’d expected wasn’t to literally bump into him on the street. You dropped your coffee that you really didn’t need to be drinking anyway, spilling it out onto the already slick street. When his bag flew open you didn’t expect for the pictures that came flying out of it to be all of you. There were pictures of you from different days sitting in the cafe wearing different outfits. In all of them, you look blissful, calm and serene. It was a nostalgic beauty that he had captured through his lens that surprised you. But the one thing that stood out to you was that he was also quietly watching you like you were watching him. It was something out of a movie, each of you in your own private little world observing each other without suspicion. When he finally made eye contact with you his narrow eyes widened and he profusely apologized, blushed and tried snatching the photos out of your hand. You couldn’t help but giggle at the realization that maybe you were attracted to each other without haven even spoken to each other.

You teasingly jerked your arm out of his reach and spoke the first words.

“What’s this about?” you asked, crossing one arm in front of your chest and holding the picture out of reach with the other hand.

“I take pictures of scenery… I saw you one morning and I liked how you looked in the window..” he said shyly, his eyes cast downward.

“And you kept taking pictures of me without my knowledge?” you pushed. He shifted nervously and pushed his glasses up his nose with his middle finger never taking his eyes off the ground.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I would suggest destroying them but they seem to already have been lost to the puddles,” he said with a scared tone.

“Why would you destroy such a work of art?” You teased with a playful tone. At the change of tone in your voice he looked up and you caught a glimpse of his face without the beanie and without the mask.

His hair hung in chunks around his eyes, not quite a bedhead but not meticulously styled either. Like he simply got up from bed and ran his fingers through his hair to detangle it quickly. His black framed glasses accentuated the sharp features in his bone structure. His lips, those soft lips you were just now noticing, looked like they had a fresh layer of lip balm. You wondered what they tasted like. As she smiled shyly his upper lip disappeared, displaying a row of perfectly white teeth like a curtain unveiling the main character of a play.

“How long have you been watching me?” you ask inquisitively, letting him know that you aren’t mad at the situation but rather intrigued.

“For a couple of weeks now?” he responded as more of a question than a statement.

“There was one day in particular,” he paused to push his glasses up his nose again. “You ordered whipped cream on your coffee and you took a sip. A bit of cream stayed in the corner of your mouth that you didn’t quite wipe off and it drove me crazy the rest of the day thinking about all the ways I would clean it off of you.”

While his face was aimed downward, his eyes innocently looked up at you to see your reaction. It caught you off guard but also gave you the impression that he had been thinking about you in a not so innocent light.

“Like in what ways?” you asked him, pushing the envelope.

“Ways I can’t show you here on the street…” his voice trailed off. You were taken aback but turned on by his forwardness. There was this invisible attraction you had towards this beautiful stranger. He was a lover of natural beauty, obviously. He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind.

“Well, then we better get to some place more secluded then so you can show me…” you flirted back. You caught him off guard this time, his nostrils flared and his eyes widened as his mouth gaped open in shock. He started stuttering and mumbled about his place being close by but it was a mess.

“I like a little mess..” you flirted shamelessly.

You walked side by side in silence for a few blocks just looking ahead and not making any conversation. Anyone watching from a distance would see two awkward people who had just met for the first time. What they didn’t know was that inside both of them were dying to explore the other’s body.

They got to an upscale part of the block with an exclusive looking apartment building and building entrance. While you were naturally gravitating towards the entrance he lead you to a different entryway around the building. It wasn’t marked service entrance, so you figured he was some celebrity or big shot CEO that wouldn’t use the main entrance like everyone else. The door you went into lead into a modern foyer with only two elevators. For such a huge building it seemed like there would be more. Entering the brightly lit elevator he quickly pressed the button for the penthouse suite.

“A man on top, I’m intrigued,” you commented. He blushed and looked down, covering his eyes as much as he could with his beanie. After a few seconds the elevator pinged and the doors opened up to a posh modern vestibule that surrounded a dark gray metal door. This stranger entered the code into the lock and it clicked as he pushed it open.

“I don’t even know your name…” you whispered almost inaudibly.

“Are you changing your mind?” he replied in a deeper, more confident voice.

“N-no,” you stuttered. He smirked.

“My name’s Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo, welcome to my place,” he held his arm out gesturing for you to come in. You both slipped out of your shoes at the entrance padding across the floor in socks into the living room.

It was a smaller apartment despite being on the top floor, at least smaller than she had imagined. But it was very nicely decorated with cream colored furniture, a small table that seemed to be the epicenter of their daily activities and a clothing rack next to the table.

“I have a roommate but he’s, uh, working late today,” he rushed walking to his room.

You followed him into the room, not wanting to look around too much as if his home were a museum. He flipped a switch and these blue and purple LED lights came on, casting a romantic glow over the room. There was a bed pushed against the wall, a computer setup that took up most of the room and a bookshelf stocked with books and DVDs alike.

He turned around to face you and you slipped your jacket off, carefully laying it on the chair. He walked up to you slowly until he was mere centimeters away from you. He reached a hand up and traced your lips softly. You reached up and took off his beanie allowing his fluffy hair to fall back onto his forehead. You tossed the beanie onto the bed and reached up to take his glasses off but his hand grabbed your wrist.

“The glasses stay on. I want to see you,” he whispered. He placed your hand on his shoulder as he leaned down towards your face. Your lips parted slightly in anticipation and he looked down at them, licking his own lips.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he asked, a true gentleman.

“Yes, I want this,” you whispered back.

Before you could even finish your sentence his hands were in your hair pulling your body into his and his lips were all over yours. He smelled like a faint scent of shower gel and natural musk, a scent that intoxicated your nostrils making you want more the longer you inhaled him. His hands found the small of your back and he turned you around so that your back was to the bed and he was facing you. He slowly lowered you to the bed and hovered over you, gently sliding first your pants and then your panties tossing them onto the floor.

Your breath hitched in your throat and your chest heaved, causing him to bite his lip. He knew what his touch was doing to you and he was doing all that he could to turn you on even more. He kissed the inside of your ankle, making a trail up your leg and stopping at your glistening wet nirvana waiting for him.

“Ready for me already?” he asked in a husky voice. He lapped your folds for a few seconds causing you to arch your back before kneeling upright on the bed and pulling the waistband of his sweatpants down. His long, hard dick sprung up, slapping his tight stomach lightly. Your mouth watered and you needed a taste of it.

You sat up, scooting forward and licking the tip causing a moan to escape his mouth.

“Does that feel good?” you asked in a sexy low voice. He nodded his head and he placed his hand at the base of your skull, his thumb tracing your lips again. You were beginning to realize he had an obsession with your mouth and you were about to give him another reason to like it.

Licking your lips you slid your mouth down the shaft of his dick until it bottomed out in your throat which was still about halfway down the length of his member. You squeezed the sides of your mouth, feeling his body twitch every time you did. You squeezed his balls lightly, feeling his legs almost buckle underneath him. You continued massaging him with one hand and pumping the other hand up and down his shaft as you sucked the life out of him. Tears started sliding down the sides of your face as you were going as far as you physically could. He looked down, his face softening a little and used his thumb to wipe a tear from your eye. It didn’t take long after seeing you cry from deepthroating for him to reach climax before he was screaming your name and begging you not to stop. You let out an evil giggle and the vibration from your throat sent him over the edge. Warm shots of his Jeon juice were squirting in your mouth that you took with big gulps. He collapsed on the bed next to you, his glasses crooked on his face and his hair a disheveled mess.

“I hope you don’t think I’m done with you,” he warned. “Once I catch my breath I want to make you feel just as good as you made me feel.”

“Good,” you replied. “You also owe me an iced americano.”

He laughed, closing his eyes and flashing that beautiful smile.

“I can do that, babe.”

He took his glasses off and placed them on the nightstand next to the bed. He reached for your wrist and brought you to a straddling position over him. You slid slowly down his dick squeezing your walls so the sensitivity in his member made him almost go cross eyed. His hands grabbed your ass and controlled the tempo starting off slow. His length reached your g-spot and just when you started to feel like you were about to reach ecstasy he started circling your clit with his thumb, using your wetness as a lubricant.

“Oh my fucking God, Wonwoo, please don’t stop,” you called out. He moaned that you were going to make him cum if you kept squeezing your walls around him. He picked up the pace both on your thighs and on his circles and you felt the wave of oblivion wash over you leaving goosebumps on your skin. You called his name, he called yours as he pulled out and shot his load over your legs. You collapsed on the bed next to him. You rested your head on his chest, hearing his fast heartbeat against your ear. He placed a finger under your chin and brought it to his, planting soft kisses around your mouth before he gave you a long, soft kiss.

“I could get used to this,” he whispered.

“Me, too,” you whispered back.

The cloudy sky cast a fuzzy filter into the room, making your eyes heavy. Wonwoo’s breathing slowed as he drifted off to sleep. A gentle rain started hitting the windows, lulling the both of you into dreamland.

[tf-cyberaligned]

The Burns family casual designs!

Close ups

Some details explanations

Cody’s jacket is the same one his mother use to own. This is the one of the few possessions of hers that he has inherited.

Charlie’s jacket was inspired by many different cyberpunk police chief outfits I saw, kind of showing how he is still on the job. The jacket itself is an armor clothing, meaning that sewn into the material is protective metal.

Dani has her jacket from her time with the Navy Fighter Weapons School. She was given the call name of “Phoenix” which is added into her jacket’s patches. Her prosthetic legs have stickers covering them, some of which are making light of the fact she lost both of her legs.

Graham’s glasses have the ability to work as a screen. Different kinds of schematics and data are able to be displaced through the glasses, helping him with his job.

Kade’s jacket is his old firefighter jacket, which was discontinued after his accident. Miko took it, switched out the sleeves, and added some patches to it for him.

And all of the Burns have biometal dog tags, giving them the ability to read and create EM fields just like their bot partners.

[hofftrans]

basically just posting these here so I can remember them for fic when I'm not cooked but the following are all either hoffman, strahm or hoffstrahm ideas I believe in on a borderline religious level even though theres no evidence to support them and i made it all up:

- Peter Strahm's top three bands are Joy Division, Tears for Fears and Blondie. Is v stoic if he's listening to music around other people (just sort of taps his foot along) but if he's convinced no one can see him he goes full middle aged white guy dancing full with head bops and arm out shimmies. Would commit a homicide in a heartbeat if anyone witnessed him doing this

- 20 something strahm was an absolute wildcard w big authority figure issues due to being involved w the post punk scene in the 80s and having a strict, emotionally unavailable ex navy dad. Changes a lot after going through addiction struggles, multiple losses, two divorces and multiple mental health issues; all of which his ass refuses to get professional help for. He has a handful of polaroids from this era and after snooping through his shit and finding one Hoffman ascends to nirvana

- Mark Hoffman is a huge Leslie Nielson fan and police academy is his favourite show. No matter how many times he's seen the show he always does these deep barky laughs at it. Being witness to this is Strahm’s version of purgatory

- Mark is a secret artist/art appreciator and this is the only one I have any scrap of evidence for due to the easel in his house, the number of paintings he has and the art degree he has framed in his office. I think he mainly uses the easel to sketch up architecture and trap designs for future trials but I also like to imagine him just chilling at home, sketching and painting like he did when he was younger and felt a bit less deranged about everything

- both hoffman and strahm are big sports heads, lots of live baseball and footy dates. They absolutely go for opposite teams and leave all the other fans thinking they're going to fight in the parking lot later (they might)

- Hoffman loves cars, classic cars especially and has a special interest in stunt cars. Will talk to you A Lot about death proof if you give him any excuse to

- would adopt a dog 1000% but I'm unsure if it'd be a big ol working dog or one of those little ratty white dogs

[jaxie101]

more fnaf movie hcs because i adore them

mike was advised to get anxiety meds but he couldn’t afford them, he looked for more at-home remedies but they didn’t work. sometimes his anxiety gets so bad that he can’t leave the house, afraid that someone’s going to kidnap him, or take abby away from him

fully blames himself for garret, and unlike game mike, it definitely wasn’t his fault

after garret his dad stopped talking to him, he never explicitly said that he blamed mike but the way he just acted like he didn’t exist said enough. his mom still tried to be there, but he could see the look in her eyes sometimes that screamed “why couldn’t it have been you instead?”

both mike and abby prefer winter over summer, summer is nothing but hot and sweaty overstimulation and it’s basically hell

saying that, mike doesn’t look forward to winter, the cold weather = heating bills that he can’t afford

abby likes dogs, mike likes cats. they settle on maybe getting a bunny but then they found out that vanessa is allergic :(

abby has nightmares every now and then, and when she does mike cuddles her to sleep while they watch her favourite show. (she gets the day off school too because he knows how drained she must feel)

saying that… mike has regular nightmares, he wakes up screaming at least twice a week. and after freddie’s it only gets worse, he dreams of what happened to garret, abby dying, vanessa dying, that mask closing in on him. eventually vanessa learns to calm him down, she strokes his hair and talks him through his attacks

vanessa deep cleans the house when she moves in… and creates a cleaning schedule!

abby HATES onions. like that girl will destroy the entire house if she even sees one

it’s ok tho mike hates them too

abby has a meltdown when he buys her a shirt and it’s the wrong texture, it takes hours to calm her down and mike never EVER buys from that store again

vanessa and abby have girl nights, while mikes at work they paint each others nails and have a little spar session

abby starts including vanessa in all of her drawings :( she’s always at the front with a big smile and her police care is always at the back

mike can’t really afford much for christmas or birthdays, he always tries his best but moneys a little too tight. abby’s lists start getting smaller and smaller and it breaks his heart. so he spends weeks working 16h shifts, he works nights and through the day and even does odd jobs on the side to save up. he remembers the things her eyes have lingered on and manages to buy her everything. that morning when abby wakes up and sees a big pile of presents waiting for her, her big smile nearly makes him cry and he has to pretend to yawn to cover it up (he even bought her one of those custom cakes and put a photo of her plushies on it, and they have takeout for dinner)

abby draws out a story book for mike, and he cries while he reads it

vanessa watches the saw movies with a straight face and mike is hiding behind her (“how can you watch this-“ “relax mike, it’s not even accurate.” “WHAT”

his favourite colour is navy blue but abby doesn’t have any navy crayons so he never buys a shirt in that colour

[milanned]

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠"; 𝑳𝑬𝑶𝑵 𝑺. 𝑲𝑬𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑫𝒀 𝒙 𝑭𝑬𝑴 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹 ~ 18+

𝙇𝙖𝙣'𝙨 𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚: Hi and thank you for choosing to read my work! I haven't written seriously since my high school career, but I've missed writing, so I hope y'all enjoy this little number and I can get back into it 💋

Summary: You take on the task of showing the new recruit the ropes and end up showing him more than you bargained for.

unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, oral (f receiving), teasing, "officer" as a pet name/taunt

Warning! You are responsible for your own content consumption. This is a mature piece! (18+)

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚┊ ˚➶ ｡˚｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ x ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆┊ ˚➶ ｡˚┊ ˚➶ ｡˚

"And this is the West Office, it's where your desk is."

Guiding newly instated officer Leon Kennedy was not a job you expected to be tasked with in the first few months of your career in law enforcement as a fairly new officer. The order had come from your General, as he knew Leon's family before the incident. However, you didn't understand how a man surrounded by so much crime as a young boy seemed to be so...normal. Leon gave off some of the most naive vibes you've ever seen in a man and was completely wide-eyed as you showed him around the Raccoon City police station. He was barely listening, instead opting for a look around at the former museum's unique architectural structuring.

"Officer Kennedy," you sighed, placing a hand on your hip. "Are you paying attention? We have a lot to get through today, so there's really no time for you to be daydreaming."

"Sorry, officer." he sheepishly replied. "I'm listening."

"Thank you," you reply gently, opening the door to the Office. "So, like I was saying, this is your desk." You place a hand on the cool oak surface, your nails tapping against the wood. "It was mine when I first got here, a few months ago. It's the desk given to all the new recruits. You'll be working here starting tomorrow, but today, you're with me." You say, stretching your thickly-lined, glossed lips into a smile.

Leon eagerly nodded in acknowledgment. He was clearly anxious, his restlessness giving way to awkward looks up and down your body.

"By the way officer, you have a beautiful smile. I'm excited to be working with you today."

"Why thank you, Officer Kennedy. You know, I think we're gonna get along just fine."

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚┊ ˚➶ ｡˚｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ x ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆┊ ˚➶ ｡˚┊ ˚➶ ｡˚

Working across from one another in your office was how the day was supposed to go. And that's how it started-- innocent jokes cracked and laughs shared between the two of you as you passed paperwork back and forth across your desk. The occasional hands meeting and legs brushing under the table weren't intentional, nor were they unwelcome. Every time the two of your bodies met, your eyes did the same. Until about 4:30, when the day had started to wind down, all of your work was done, and you found yourself killing time by doing anything to coax that honey-coated laugh out of his throat.

"So yeah, basically avoid making peanut butter sandwiches in front of your dog."

Leon chuckled. That faraway look had manifested itself in his eyes again. You sigh contentedly to the satisfaction of hearing your new favorite sound. "Well, it's 4:45 officer," Leon stretched his arms upwards as he said it, his navy button-up lifting slightly. "Guess I'd better be heading back to my desk with these forms."

You nod wordlessly. You take the manila folder with his files and stand. You're walking over to the opposite side of the desk where he sits. Just as you're beginning to pass him, you're interrupted by his warm hand grabbing hold of your wrist.

"Unless you wanna put in some overtime?"

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚┊ ˚➶ ｡˚｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ x ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆┊ ˚➶ ｡˚┊ ˚➶ ｡˚

"Mmmh, fuck!"

Next thing you know, you're bent over your desk getting your pussy devoured from the back. Leon's in your folds like he's doing laundry. His fingers occasionally swipe your clit and spread your slick from your sopping hole over the sensitivity. He leans back, catching his breath in rapid increments.

"Such a good, obedient girl f'me." He slips two fingers into you. Your walls instantly constrict his meaty digits. "Aren't you supposed to be my superior officer?" He begins pumping in and out of your pussy, fingers curled as he hits your g-spot slow, deep, and firm. You can't help but squirm underneath his painfully slow touch. "You don't do this for all your new recruits, do you, officer?"

You shake your head frantically. Doing your best to choke back your moans, You reach back to grab Leon's hair and find yourself grasping at nothing. He's stopped to say something taunting to you about suppressing your sounds, but all you can make out in your dazed state is "Come on officer, you wanted me to listen, right? I'm listening, but now you don't have much to say, huh?

All you could muster was an "mmph", your hand still cupped over your mouth. Your lashes fluttered in pure ecstasy as his breathy words teased your hole. You hear him stand behind you and unbuckle his belt, then spit on his hand, whispering curses as he gives himself a few strokes. You turn on your back and sit up on the desk. Your panties are at your ankles, your lip combo is smudged, and your button-up has been unbuttoned to reveal some cleavage. Leon turns back around to face you, and your mouth falls slightly agape. He has a tuft of hair running from his navel to the base of his dick. His abdomen is decently toned. You spread your legs and beckon him to step between them, which he does eagerly. Your knees curl themselves around his waist, pulling him in. One of his large hands grabs your wrists so your mouth stays exposed, while the other aligns himself with your hole. He carefully slides in, giving you time to adjust to his size. You lean forward to kiss Leon's plump, pinkish lips, squirting from your earlier stimulation added to the new sensation of Leon totally inside you. Your walls rapidly contract around him. You both hiss in unison from the intoxicating pleasure, and he quickly takes a one-handed grip on your waist. Leon begins pounding your pussy relentlessly. You can't do anything but moan loudly and dig your nails into his shoulder, head thrown back as he repeatedly hits your cervix with enough force to rock the desk back and forth. His dick is thick and warm. You fit around it like a leather glove.

"F-fuck.. good girl," Leon stammers. Moans slip from his lips as his strokes become increasingly haphazard. He shoots his load into you and pulls out. A string of his semen connects the two of you. One of his hands grips your chin, and you share another sweet kiss, the two of you struggling to catch your breath.

"Remind me not to listen to you more often."

[dcangel]

Valentine’s day poison

this one’s rough, so just remember it’s what yall asked for (don’t hate me)

thinking about motorcycle boyfriend!stiles who tells you he’s going out for a ride and won’t tell you where and won’t let you go with him. You obviously got a little upset that he wouldn’t tell you where he was going, and it wasn’t one of those stray rides where he just rides for miles on the outskirts of beacon hills for no reason other than personal pleasure, it was a little sketchy, like he was hiding something from you.

You knew stiles well, and you knew the tell tale signs of his lies or when he wouldn’t answer some questions. He didn’t seem to feel the need to explain himself or try and make you feel a little better before he left, so he just gave you a quick peck on the forehead and told you he loved you, and you bluntly said it back. You tried not to let your annoyance show, but the petty and insecure sides of you were quickly becoming a good fit together, so you gave him a half hearted “have fun” whilst saying “I love you” back.

He grabbed his keys off the rack and his coat, helmet already in hand, and pulled the door closed behind him as he walked out. Stiles was acting weird today, and not his normal type of weird. It wasn’t the clingy, touchy-feely, goofball, golden retriever boyfriend type of behavior he always sported, he was closed off and secretive today.

You stayed sitting on his couch, pillow on your lap as your hands sunk deeper into the plush cushion over time. Your eyes unfocused as your mind slipped into the irrational state of overthinking. Fine, whatever. You’d just wait for him to come back and let him decide which path he wanted to go down. You told yourself you wouldn’t worry about it. It was later’s problem.

The remote was on the oak coffee table, so you picked it up and turned the tv on, aimlessly flicking through the channels until you had no choice but to settle on something. Of course it was star wars. As if the universe couldn’t’ve tried to get under your skin more, stiles’ police radio scanner in the dining room (that he wasn’t supposed to have) made crackling static noises before a dispatch voice came over and began speaking. The distance between you and the radio caused the words to be incoherent, and you didn’t feel like listening to whomever speaking about what was most likely a drunk driver or, knowing beacon hills, some “dog-man” running around the streets again. So you got up to turn it off, trying to keep the small woven blanket on your body as you trudged over to stiles’ dining room.

But when you got closer you could make out what they were saying: “Crash reported on route 115, paramedics already en route. How many vehicles involved?”

“Just one: a, uh, navy blue motorbike by the looks of it. I’m about fifty feet out, I’ll be sure to update the ambulance that’s on its way if needed.”

It took a second to connect the dots, but when you realized you were already picturing that exact bike that you had ridden on so many times, your heart absolutely dropped, and so did your blanket. Your heart sank so hastily that you choked on the air in your throat. Breathing felt like a task, a privilege. It felt like your lungs were fighting your throat to let the air through, to allow it to cool down the blazing fire that ignited in your gut, churning every organ in your body.

Every movement you made: the first step you took before your shaky legs took off towards the door, not even wavering at the way your foot tripped on the rug and nearly took you out, and how your sweaty palms grabbed the keys to Roscoe, how you ran to his jeep parked in his driveway, sharp pebbles feeling like they were piercing your sock-clad feet since you didn’t even think of putting shoes on—all of it, it all took years. Each step, each breath was an eternity of its own; toddlers grew up, graduated highschool, fell in love, had kids over their own. Grew old together. It was all eternities of their own that taunted you with a fate you might not get to have now, a fate that was possibly whisked away, stolen from right under your nose.

You didn’t notice how the jeep was brutally hot, stiles having left the heat on to conserve gas or whatever the last time he used it, or how it was practically running on fumes because of how long it’d been since he filled the tank, or how you were speeding, running red lights that belonged to roads which were thankfully empty. If you had noticed all that, then you probably wouldn’t be surprised if by chance a cop that lurked on side roads pulled out to catch people you now fit the description of. Speeders, reckless drivers, law breakers. Though, they probably would’ve been well aware of the cyan jeep the sheriff’s son drove by now.

The scanner was on in his jeep as well, and your fingers fiddled with the dials, trying to land on the same channel as the one in the house.

Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive.

Your hands probably left a thin sheen of sweat on the steering wheel as your fingers gripped it tight like your life depended on it, your knuckles turning white from the pressure.

The traffic up ahead was completely halted, and you knew why. Out of pure anxiety and stress, you screamed at the people in front of you to go. As if they’d actually hear you, as if you weren’t stuck in completely backed up traffic. You thought about pulling off to the side and just riding in the breakdown lane, but there was orange cones not too far ahead, and not much further from that were the flashing lights on the back of a parked ambulance.

Fuck it.

You swerved two lanes to pass over the rumble strip that separated the breakdown lane from the others, and threw Roscoe in park. You practically fell out of the jeep and onto the pavement below. Your nearly-bare feet painfully hit the pebbled cement below, yet you couldn’t feel a thing. Surely your feet were impaled by the rocks, sticks, nuts and bolts and trashed car parts from previous wrecks on the side of the road as you ran at impossible speeds, feeling like your legs were moving to fast for your body. The death wobbles that came with riding a skateboard resembled the feeling in your thighs, and any second now, you’d come tumbling down and roll on the dirty road. You probably looked like some psycho on crack as you ran with every single fiber of your being, every muscle in your body, while unknowingly crying like an idiot.

Swerving the neon orange cones, you almost slammed into the back of the ambulance when you got there, but avoided it in time. Right away, there were cops holding you back, telling you that this was a crash scene and to go back to your car. But it was clear from the way you threw yourself at them repeatedly in hopes that their grip would falter, and by the intense lock your eyes had on the mirror of stiles’ motorcycle, the rest of it nowhere in sight, and by the flood pouring down your cheeks, that you weren’t just some rubber-necking stranger who wanted a closer view to tell all their friends they saw an intense crash today.

“it’s stiles! stiles stilinski!” you cried, pleading with your looks for the officers to let you by.

“stilinski? you mean—”

“yes, stilinski.”

one of the men let you go, but the other stayed in front of you; trying to talk you down from storming an active crash investigation.

the man who walk away pulled his radio from his vest, speaking into it after letting out a sigh heavy with regret. “we know who the victim is.” he paused, preparing for the sheriff to potentially be listening on one of the other lines. “seventeen year old male, stiles stilinski.”

silence came from the other side, nothing but static from the other line being open at least.

“paramedics still en route. do you think you’ll need them? we can have them bring back up.”

you heard the cop sigh, and even from behind you could see him being his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “we, uh, we haven’t found him yet. my guess is he lost control and hit something. probably ejected from his seat into the woods.”

as he got closer to you and the other cop, motioning for him to release you for the time being, you heard a familiar voice in the background of the other line. “accident?”

“yes, sir. a wreck on route 115.”

“damn highway gets everyone. who’s involved?”

even through the janky radio speaker you could still hear the female dispatch on the other end hesitate. “motorcycle wreck involving a, um, s-seventeen year old male. your son, sir.”

“what? you’re saying stiles crashed his motorcycle.”

“it’s a wreck. lance said he wrecked it. i’m sorry, sir.”

“I’m heading down there. Tell lance I’m on my way.” The sheriff said, his voice set in stone. It only made you feel the tiniest bit better, but it was something.

At least now you’d have a person here just as concerned as you, if not more.

The other officer let you through after putting up with your begging for about ten minutes. Not without radioing the sheriff first, though.

“What, are you insane? Let the girl in!” A voice on the other end chastised. It was the voice you needed to hear second most.

You took off after they let you past their neon cones, heading directly to the motorcycle that a few officers were pulling from a ditch. His bike was wrecked. And stiles was nowhere in sight.

as you neared his bike, shimmering navy blue under the sun like it chose its time to shine, you noticed something. a small red box, all dented in with dirt and debris stuck in the fuzzy velvet. yet somehow its contents hadn’t spilled.

your fingers trembled as you reached out for the object, an affect of your inevitable break down. or maybe it had already started. the small hinges groaned as the box struggled to open.

and inside, resting there so prettily on even smoother black velvet, was a silver necklace. a charm hung on the end of the chain; a small heart with and even smaller note engraved on it.

I’ve told the moon about you every night since the day we met. I made sure it’ll never forget.

how’s that for “it’s not what you think”😁

and i had absolutely no clue what to put for the quote, so i made one up.

i’ve had this in my drafts forever and was debating on finishing it fully, but i panicked and forgot i needed to upload it tonight so now we have room for a part 2 if yall want

also i’m willing to do an actual motorcycle boyfriend!stiles fic that IS what you think if yall want

heavily unedited

[thalassata]

navy seal (.... lions)

supposedly they're only used in non combative roles like detection and retrieval but it still feels pretty strange. they are definitely more regulated and in less danger than police dogs though that's for sure.

they also apparently love playing video games.

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 3- The Letter

Summary: The US Navy had fled allowing the Japanese control of the sea, leaving the marines to fight the battle for Guadalcanal alone. They were vastly undersupplied, and many were on the verge of starvation and some at the mercy of malaria. As thousands of Japanese reinforcements poured onto the island, Kate, Blanche, and the boys were strafed and bombed relentlessly. It was during these harsh times Kate found herself becoming closer to the guys and in a constant state of worry when Hoosier isn't where she could hear or see him. 

A/N: Mature audience, BillHoosierSmithx!FemMedic, WW2, OC/Kate Danaher, Female Pronouns, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Military and Medical Terminology, Inappropriate Nicknames, HBO The Pacific References, Mentions/Descriptions of Death, Blood, Weaponry, Smoking, 💚Very small Band of Brothers cameo quote…if you blink you might miss it💚

Story takes place Episode 2 Basilone Chapters 1-5

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real Marines the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction* 

~~~~~~~ 

Guadalcanal 

September 1942 

“What’s wrong with him?” Sgt Stone asked Kate while she kneeled over a young marine. 

She had been holding a thermometer to the man’s mouth, and when she removed it, it read 105. 

“His temp is 105. He’s clammy and sweating bullets but says he feels cold-has to be malaria, sarge.” Kate finalized with a frown. 

Sgt Stone shook his head, “He’s the fifth marine to catch this shit.” 

“He won’t survive here if he stays. I don’t have anything to treat him with since that cruiser sank with all the supplies we needed.”  

Sgt Stone nodded, “I’ll try to arrange for transport if it’s available. We’re pretty much on our own out here.” 

Kate nodded, “I’ll do what I can for him, sir.”  

~~~~~~~ 

H Company was due to push forward the following day upon hearing D Company making contact with the enemy some 15 miles ahead. The men were instructed to police their gear to be ready by 0500 the next morning for the convoy. Around sunset, Hoosier scavenged beyond the camp for anything palatable to bring back to his buddies and himself for dinner. 

Leckie, Runner, Chuckler, Sid, and Gibson sat in a 7’ by 8’ foxhole they had dug for all of them to fit in. 

As darkness engulfed the island and thunder rolled through, Hoosier returned with chow. 

“Supper’s on, supper’s on.” he announced as he jumped into the hole. 

“Anything good?” Gibson asked hopefully. 

“What are those?” Runner asked skeptically. 

“Army rations from 1918. Quartermaster at Dog Company claims they’re edible-” Hoosier began as he handed each of them a small, unmarked package of food. 

He noticed the look of disgust stretching across each of their faces as they tried biting into the stale hard-tack crackers that were stiff enough to crack their teeth. 

“-after you suck on them for about an hour or two.” Hoosier added. 

“This is all you could find?” Chuckler asked. 

“You fuckin’ forage next time.” Hoosier spat back. 

They all begrudgingly continued to eat. 

Kate appeared kneeling over the edge of their foxhole. 

“Hey, guys. Just making rounds. Everyone doin’ ok?” she asked. 

“Yeah, just havin’ some dinner while Leckie reads us his letter to his girl back home.” Runner replied playfully. 

“Who said I was writing to anyone?” Leckie retorted. 

“Come on, you can tell us. Go on, read it.” Chuckler pushed. 

“We’d do it for you.” Runner added. 

“Guys, leave him alone.” Kate chuckled, knowing it was all in good fun. 

Leckie shook his head and returned to writing on his pad of paper. 

“So, you guys are ok, then?” Kate reiterated. 

They collectively responded, “yeah yeah,” knowing she’d keep on them until they answered her. 

“Ok, good. Make sure you keep hydrating, too. See you guys later.” she reminded them before standing and walking off. 

“Speaking of girls; how’s that bet going Hoosier?” Runner asked. 

“I’d say I’m in the lead.” he stated assertively. 

“That’s because I’m giving you a head start! She won’t be able to resist me once I’ve unleashed my charm on her.” Chuckler countered. 

“Yeah, and he’s a Corporal now! The ladies love rank.” Runner pointed out. 

Hoosier scoffed, “Yeah? Well, I don’t think she’s that type of girl. She’s not impressed by the number of stripes on a marine’s sleeves.” 

“How would you know?” Chuckler asked. 

“I had a little visit with her yesterday. Sat and talked to her for about two hours sipping on that shit Jap wine that we had left.” Hoosier revealed. 

They all stared at him waiting for him to continue, but he remained silent knowing the anticipation was killing them. 

“And!?” Leckie prompted. 

“And she told me she was only here to do her part for her country by keeping us alive. No matter what I said or did to “charm” her, she went right back into talkin’ about medical mumbo-jumbo or about her two brothers in the 101st airborne,” he paused, “she’s actually real smart.” Hoosier explained. 

“Well, maybe you just don’t got it like I do.” Chuckler returned. 

Hoosier laughed, “Have it at, pal, I’m tellin’ ya, she’s a tough cookie to crumble. She doesn’t melt over the same things most dames do. You’ll have your work cut out for you.”  

“We’ll see!” Chuckler shot back confidently. 

~~~~~~~ 

By midafternoon the next day, H Company caught up with D Company, setting up outlook posts about a mile away in case the enemy approached. With an entire battalion in the same area, a proper aid station was available with tables and cots to tend to the wounded and sick. There was also a chow tent serving hot meals which none of the men have seen in weeks. 

Hoosier, Leckie, Chuckler, and Runner sat in a semi-circle with their plates of hot rice. 

“I hear the army finally landed.” Leckie shared. 

“Nice of them to join the party.” Runner stated sarcastically. 

“They have no idea what they’re walking into.” Chuckler added. 

“Yeah, well word is they came with loads of crates filled with some good shit.” Hoosier voiced. 

“Oh yeah?” Leckie asked, his interest piqued. 

“Maybe we can get at some of that!” Chuckler suggested. 

“If you do, see if you can get some clean bandages, and some morphine. And get me some goddam scissors, I can’t get any.” Kate requested as she walked past the group after hearing them scheming about the army supply delivery. 

“Yes, ma’am!” Chuckler confirmed enthusiastically as he shot a cheeky grin at Hoosier. 

Hoosier released an exasperated sigh as he rolled his eyes at him, 

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Juergens.” 

~~~~~~~ 

As the Army staged the dozens of wooden crates and drawstring laundry bags on the beach, an air raid siren sounded off alerting the men of an enemy attack. The newcomer soldiers, unaware that the siren was signifying the attack on the airfield and not the beach, started running for cover leaving the boxes and bags unattended and up for grabs.

The marines waiting in the brush of the jungle like predators waiting to pounce, watched as the last few soldiers disappeared before they took advantage of the situation. 

Platoons of marines scattered out of the tree line like roaches, breaking open boxes and foot lockers, and dumping bags to grab what they could before the army came back. 

Hoosier found a good-sized crate with a red cross insignia painted on it.  

“Has to be scissors in here.” he thought outloud to himself. 

He looked around and found a crowbar lying on the ground. Snatching it up, he got to work on opening the box. As he removed the final nail, he pushed the cover off revealing an assortment of medical supplies to include cases of morphine and first aid kits.  

Hoosier scanned the area around him, “Hey Runner! Come here!”  

Runner trotted over to him and looked into the box, “Nice, you found the medic supply.” 

“Help me grab a few of these, will ya?” Hoosier asked as he handed him a couple cases of morphine.  

“Why don’t you ask Chuckler?” Runner teased as he tucked the box under is arm. 

Hoosier laughed, “You snooze, you lose.”  

Runner snickered as he grasped the handles of three syrette cans in his right hand while slinging a sack filled with tactically acquired treasures over his left shoulder. 

Leckie ran over, “Here! Throw some of those in the bag so we can carry more back.”  

He presented a large empty duffel bag for Hoosier to throw more syrette cases and first aid kits in. 

“Perfect.” Hoosier commended. 

As he tossed as many as he could into the bag, the army rushed back shooing the marines away. The marines took off running towards their camp, each cackling triumphantly at the soldiers behind them. 

~~~~~~~ 

After the excitement settled down, Hoosier, Chuckler, Sid, Gibson and Runner sat in a more secluded area of camp shifting through the prizes they obtained. Leckie sauntered up while carrying his drawstring bag of goods, sporting his new pair of moccasin slippers to the foxhole as a campfire kindled.

“Anything happen while I was prospecting?” Leckie asked the group outloud. 

“Betty Hutton stopped by giving out blowjobs,” Hoosier replied, “What’d you get?” 

Leckie took a seat on the log and showed off the items he got. While he was handing out cans of peaches to the guys, Kate approached them. 

“Hey, guys, did you hear that the army was looted during the air raid earlier toda-”

She stopped a few feet behind Hoosier as Chuckler was waving a can of peaches at Runner who had been sitting by the tree line with his pants down dealing with a bad case of diarrhea. 

“Peaches? I’ve got the goddam runs, and you had to get peaches.” Runner hissed at Leckie. 

“They were all out of cheese, Runner.” Leckie called back. 

The puzzle pieces started to come together as she looked over the scene in front of her. She noticed Leckie with a pair of comfy patent leather house shoes on, the multiple cans of fruit, and the brand-new M-1 rifles next to each man where they sat. She watched as Leckie excitedly carved an opening in his can, eager to eat the peaches and drink the nectar inside. 

“Uh, Bob, you’ll wanna take that slowly,” she cautioned, “you haven’t had real food for weeks, you might-” 

“I’ll be fine, Ace.” Leckie insisted cutting her off. 

Not at all heeding her warning, he inhaled the peaches and sugary liquid from his can. He slowly lowered it looking suddenly alarmed and pale, apparently regretting his hasty decision. He began gagging as he rushed over not too far from where Runner was and vomited the peaches he just consumed onto the grass in front of him. 

Runner laughed at Leckie, pleased and entertained by his misery. 

“Ugh, I told you, Leckie.” Kate pointed out with her hands on her hips shaking her head at him. 

The others sniggered as they slowly ate from their cans so as not to end up like Leckie. 

“Well, I was going to ask if you guys heard the air raid siren earlier, but I assume you did.” she continued as she crossed her arms in a motherly fashion. 

The guys responded with a collective, “Mmhm.” 

She waited, her lips pursed together as she scanned each of them with skepticism to see if they’d own up to what they had been doing during the air raid. They remained quiet, hanging their heads as they avoided eye contact with her while eating their peaches. She already knew, though. She just wanted to see if they’d confess without her outright asking them. She shook her head again, deciding it best to let it go. 

“Hey, Ace-” Runner called out to Kate, “my ass is killing me, can’t you do anything about this??” he begged. 

“Is there blood?” Kate asked invasively outloud in front of the guys. 

Runner’s eyebrows creased together inquisitively, “Huh?” 

Kate huffed irritably and walked closer to Runner, “Is there blood in your stool?” she clarified, speaking slowly. The others groaned in disgust, each placing their cans down. 

“Um-” Runner looked over his shoulder, “-no.”  

“Ok, good,” she stated as she turned on her heel to walk back, “When you’re finished relieving yourself over there, come see me. The nurses over at Dog Company gave me a case of sodium solution that can help that.”   

Kate walked past the group, “Enjoy your haul, you hooligans.” she said with a playful smile, winking at Hoosier as they made eye contact when she passed. 

Leckie slumped back onto the ground across from Hoosier, “When are you giving her the morphine and shit?”  

“Tonight.” Hoosier affirmed. 

“No way! You found her some morphine? What about bandages? And scissors!? How!?” Chuckler asked genuinely befuddled when Hoosier nodded. 

“Simple, I looked for it.” Hoosier responded smugly as he leaned back on his elbows. 

The guys laughed as Chuckler grimaced, resentfully drinking more juice from his can. 

~~~~~~~ 

That night as Hoosier was preparing the aid kits and morphine to bring to Kate and Blanche, fire clouds exploded in the distance and were steadily progressing closer towards them. Japanese aircraft’s were heading towards them dropping bombshells in their wake.

Whatever man wasn’t under the safety of cover dove into the nearest foxhole they could get to.

Enemy aircrafts soared over H and D Company posts, relentlessly deploying one bomb after the other as they passed. Multiple men shouting to take cover, and some crying out in fear, there was nothing they could do other than wait it out. 

The following morning, every marine across the camp that wasn’t injured or stuck beneath the sand was either digging to find survivors that were buried alive or carrying the wounded to the medical personnel. The entire site was in shambles with Jeeps destroyed and burned to a crisp while fallen palm trees lay across where the men’s foxholes were, trapping marines' underneath. 

The hustle and bustle of the aid station was never ending. Kate and Blanche along with a few Dog Company medics and a couple of nurses scampered from one man to another trying to keep them alive while able marines brought more wounded on stretchers. 

“Put him on that table there!” Kate directed to the men who brought another marine with a wound to his right leg. 

Kate rushed over, “What do we got?”  

“Right thigh wound. He said shrapnel impaled him after one of the explosions went off right by him when he was running for cover.” one of the men explained quickly. 

Kate tore through the pantleg to get to the wound. She knew right away by the saturation of the blood that the artery was severed. 

“Blanche! Bring me gauze, sulfur and bandages! I need to pack this, NOW!” Kate yelled across the floor. 

Blanche hurried over with what Kate needed, unraveling the long bandage and opening a bottle of sulfur to clot the wound. Kate balled up the end of the dressing, pushing it down deep into the gash packing it as tight as she could. The man shrieked and bawled, kicking and grabbing at Kate to escape the torture. 

“Jesus, hold him down! I can’t do this if he’s moving around like that!” Kate bellowed. 

The two men that brought him in pinned him down by his arms while Blanche secured his legs by his ankles. Kate layered the bandage hard into his wound, then when she couldn’t fit anymore, she placed a padded bandage over the top wrapping the ends snug around the thigh tying it down to maintain pressure. The bleeding had finally stopped. 

Kate took a syrette and injected it into the meatier part of the marine’s shoulder. 

“Take him over there where the rest of ‘em are.” Kate panted as she weakly motioned over to the treated casualties, recovering in the shade of a hanging tarp. 

“You doing ok, Kate?” Blanche asked. 

Kate nodded, “Did you see Sid?”  

“No, thank goodness,” Blanche breathily replied, “What about Hoosier?”  

Kate looked at her shocked, “Well, no. But I haven’t seen Leckie, Chuckler, Gibson, or Runner either.” she added.  

Blanche raised an eyebrow at her best friend, “Honey, I know you fancy the man. You don’t have to hide it from me.” 

“I don’t know what you’re-” 

“Ssshhh...” Blanche shushed Kate placing her fore finger over Kate’s lips, “your secret is safe with me.” 

 Kate scoffed at her then rolled her eyes, “We got more work to do.”  

She turned around and made herself busy with the next injured marine. 

~~~~~~~ 

Kate sat alone behind the rickety medic shelter, taking a minute to let her brain rest by closing her eyes and humming a tune quietly to herself. The hum of her voice slowly became words as she sang the song softly outloud.  

“There you are.” Hoosier’s voice came crashing through Kate’s tranquil thoughts. 

Kate gasped as her heart and body jumped from surprise. 

“Bill, you have GOT to stop sneaking up on me like that!” she told him clutching the front of her uniform. 

Hoosier chuckled, “I am sorry, I really don’t mean to.”  

Kate released a long exhale, “Glad to see you’re ok, though.” she admitted looking up at him through her eyelashes as he stood over her. 

“You, too.” he returned. 

Kate blushed, smiling weakly as she looked down at her lap. She looked behind him and noticed a dog sniffing around.

"Looks like you got yourself a new friend." she acknowledged.

Hoosier looked over his shoulder, "Yeah, after all the bombings last night this little fella slipped into our foxhole, so I grabbed him. Hasn't left my side since." he explained.

The dog looked up at him as if he knew Hoosier was talking about him.

"He's adorable." Kate cooed.

“I have something for you.” Hoosier declared. 

“For me?”  

“Yep. But you need to close your eyes.” he instructed. 

Kate narrowed her eyes in suspicion, “Why?”  

“Trust me.” he insisted grinning proudly. 

Kate clicked her tongue at him but closed her eyes as he requested. 

“Hold out your hand.” 

She presented her hand palm up in front of her.

"Stay." she heard him command to the dog.

She felt his calloused palm gently slip under hers. His surprisingly tender touch sent electrical currents up her arm and through the rest of her body. She almost wasn’t able to contain her shudder. 

Just then, she felt a hard slender object placed on her palm as he slowly removed his hand from under hers. 

“Ok, you can look now.” Hoosier told her. 

Kate opened her eyes, face to face with Hoosier kneeling right in front of her, his eyes as blue as the water behind him. She looked down at her hand to find a pair of scissors.  

Kate’s eyes widened with excitement as she smiled at him. 

“You got me scissors!” she squealed throwing her arms around his neck pulling him into a hug. 

Hoosier chuckled as he loosely embraced Kate around her torso, “Yeah, I found a crate full of first aid kits and morphine and grabbed you a whole bunch of ‘em.” 

Kate leaned back looking at him in disbelief, “You did?” 

Hoosier nodded, “Leckie and Runner helped, too so we could get as much for you as we could. I brought them over and left them by the aid station for you. There are at least a dozen scissors over there so you’ll never run out of them again.”  

Kate’s heart almost rocketed out of her chest.

“You didn’t get anything for yourself while you were out there?”

“Nah, I don’t need much.” he dismissed.

She beamed adoringly at him and pulled him back for another hug. 

“You missed your chance to get something for yourself to get me what I needed? Thank you.” she whispered to him.

He squeezed her tighter, “Of course.” he purred back. 

They pulled away slowly, still smiling at eachother. Kate patted Hoosier’s shoulder before standing up. 

“I’m going to go take a look at those kits before anyone tries to get their mitts on them.” Kate proclaimed as she headed towards the casualty collection point. 

Hoosier fixated on Kate as she walked away. He was lost in a daydream relishing the feeling of her pinned against him when they hugged. It was the closest feeling to home he’s felt since he got to Guadalcanal. 

Kate stopped and turned to Hoosier, “You comin’?”  

Hoosier snapped out of his trance and clumsily scurried over to join her for the walk back to the aid station. 

~~~~~~~ 

As D and H Company fixed up the camp as best they could, they returned to foxholes to keep watch of the line. Col Puller (known as ‘Chesty’ to the marines) disclosed intelligence that the enemy was going to try to take Matanikau which was south of the airfield where the Americans currently had control. Most of the battalion was to join the 5th and 1st marines there to help defend the coast road into the airfield to maintain that control. This meant that Dog Company would be entirely alone on the front lines as they relocate to sector 3 of the island. H Company had their own orders. 

Hoosier and Runner were tasked to set up a listening and observation post 30 yards inside the treeline. While they were gathering their weapons and gear, Kate walked up with two ammo cans in her hand. A look of concern appeared across her face when she saw a tired rough looking Hoosier with his dog and Runner packing up gear behind him. 

“Where you two going?” she asked. 

“We’re settin’ up a little less than a mile that way along the perimeter.” Runner replied pointing in the direction they were going to be heading. 

“Oh?” Kate queried. 

“Yeah, the Japs decided to go around us to hit the airfield. We got the first watch for two hours at sunset.” Hoosier explained. 

Kate looked down at her boots inadvertently kicking at the sand, “I see.” 

Hoosier stopped what he was doing to look her over and noticed what she had been holding. 

“Whatchya got there, Ace?” he asked gesturing with his head at the small metal boxes. 

Kate’s breath hitched in her throat as she looked up at Hoosier, “Oh-” she looked back down at the cans perplexed like they just appeared in her hands, “-it’s for you guys. I figured you’d need these more than me and Blanche.”  

She walked closer to Runner and Hoosier handing them each a container. Runner opened the can and saw stacks of crackers neatly packed to the brim. Hoosier looked into Runner’s can, then beamed back at Kate. 

“I heard you guys traded your saltines for the peaches and figured once you ran out of fruit you’d need more rations in the field. Good thing I caught you before you two took off.” she remarked. 

“You’re giving us your food?” Runner asked utterly surprised while Hoosier gaped at her. 

Kate’s eyebrows drew in together, “Of course. Someone’s gotta take care of you boys.”  

Kate averted her eyes to Hoosier.  She blushed seeing he had been gazing at her the whole time, his lazy smile and droopy blue eyes, ready to worship the ground she walked on.  

“We’re so lucky to have you.” Hoosier muttered. 

“Yeah, thanks, Ace!” Runner said as he ascended into the cubby hole shelter they all built to share the fresh crackers with the rest of the group. 

“Anytime, Runner!” Kate called out. 

Hoosier, still smiling, walked towards Kate, leaving very little room between them when he reached her. Kate hiccupped when he stood inches from her, looking up at him with her sparkling green eyes. 

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” he asserted. 

Kate grinned, “I know. You guys would do the same for me and Blanche.”  

Hoosier’s smile widened, “Absolutely.”  

“I have one other thing,” Kate stated as she dug into her dungaree pocket, “-here.” 

She held a sealed envelope with the name ‘Bill’ written in cursive on the front. He took it from her and as he looked it over, he realized he didn’t recognize the handwriting.  

He looked back at her, “Who’s this from?”  

Kate laughed, “Me, silly!”  

A smile returned to his face, “But why?” 

“Well, I heard you saying something about Leckie having a girl back home to send letters to and that you didn’t. So, I wrote you one.” Kate explained. 

Hoosier’s heart melted, practically becoming a puddle at his feet. He looked back at the letter smiling so hard his cheeks started to ache. 

“Well, thank you Kate Danaher. That’s about the nicest thing that any broad has ever done for me.” he admitted. 

“Glad to hear it. Oh, and you should wait to read it when you’re feeling crummy during one of your watches. It’ll cheer you up.” she insisted. 

“What if I want to read it now?” Hoosier asked with a mischievous smile. 

Kate laughed, “Defeats the purpose of me writing it for you! It’ll be worth the wait, cross my heart!” she promised as she drew a crisscross over her chest with her fingers. "-And when you do read it, you'll have to write me back. Those are the rules."

Hoosier was absolutely mesmerized by her childlike innocence. 

“Ok, I’ll save it.” he pledged placing the letter in the breast pocket of his uniform. 

Kate standing on her tiptoes snaked her arms over his shoulders pulling him into a hug as his arms instinctively embraced her pulling her flush against him.

“Please be careful. Both of you.” Kate whispered. 

Hoosier’s heart pounding against his ribcage had his chest heaving as his strong hands kneaded Kate’s upper back. He nodded, agreeing to her request. 

“Promise?” Kate implored. 

“I swear it.” Hoosier reassured; his voice low and calm like a song to Kate’s ears. 

~~~~~~~ 

[snowleopardcrk]

Modern Humans - Estuilor

Hello! I am back with more Alternate AU content. Mostly here to list off what these Cookies (or humans) work as in this AU. I have already mentioned some of them, but not all of them. Remember, these are subject to change. The only ones listed are the ones who even have a job, the rest are either a work in progress or are in school. Here's the link to the original post for this au: POST

White Lily - Pathologist, works at the major university hospital.

Pure Vanilla - Former ER Nurse, now works as a Botanist.

Wildberry & Crunchy Chip, work & run the sheep farm.

Dark Cacao, Former Army General, works with Hollyberry in her winery field.

Hollyberry, helps Jungleberry and Royalberry run the family winery.

Jungleberry and Royalberry, are in charge of the family winery.

Moonlight, Librarian with a degree in astrology

Sea Fairy, Marine Biologist Professor

Sparkling, Bartender

Herb, Botanist + works in massive greenhouse garden

Golden Cheese & Black Pearl, own their own respective Jewelry businesses (They are rivals)

Espresso, former math teacher now Chemist

Madeleine, Army General (away often)

Captain Caviar, high ranking navy official

Latte, Teacher (of some sort)

Red Velvet, runs a dog daycare and Vet clinic

Financier & Almond, police officer

Roguefort, professional lock smith

Stardust, Trucker

Pastry, Hotel Manager

-----

Joujhu is a very Tourist centric town and the entire county has a large tourism industry. Its quite a scenic town, especially during the spring and summer. Most of the businesses cater towards tourists and college / university students from the university town a little further north. There are also plenty of historic buildings in the countryside of Holmur county from when Estuilor was a colony of the French Empire, including a now museum of an asylum that showcases the history of medicine in Estuilor.

Thats all for today, and I honestly welcome anyone to add their own vision for a Cookie (including OCs) for this AU :p (MAKE SURE TO @ ME OR REBLOG ONE OF THE AU POSTS SO I CAN SEE YOUR MASTERPIECES)

as usual, I cannot tag every single character in this post :p

[zkylearnstherope]

My Fan Theories for Alan Becker's AvA 6 - Episode 2

It gets revealed that The Dark Lord is not actually evil.

Like Red before, Dark got possessed/corrupted and it somehow revived/enhanced Alan's code inside him. Chosen must've sensed this, because I think he held back a lot in the Showdown Episode.

He was named The Chosen One, damnit! He's supposed to level up along with his enemies. He can't possibly lose a fight.

He sensed something was wrong, but is not smart enough to save Dark.

victim actually works for the government/police.

When they summoned Alan's cursor during Showdown, it created public unease in the city. Like, A CREATOR IS ACTUALLY HERE!

The cursor was big enough to be spotted in the city. And when someone came to investigate, all they saw were laser marks on the ground and a missing mountain.

Naturally, the #1 suspect would be The Chosen One. In the Wanted Episode, when he saved the office worker from the falling debris with his lasers, the office worker either (a) covered his eyes to look at the bright sky, or (b) actually saluted back to Chosen.

I think it's B. So, people in the city are actually familiar with the rocket man in the sky. He would've reacted differently if it's the first time they saw Chosen. And don't get me started with the nonchalant reaction of the Corn Dog Guy.

So with this in mind, how would anyone capture a what is essentially, a virtual god? They will go for the smartest man they know, produces the most advanced technology, and who obviously has connections with Chosen since they look exactly the same.

I don't think victim is out for revenge. Like, why would he wait all this time to get back at Alan? He has all the resources now, his own company (that sells TVs), like, what else could he ask for?

I choose to believe in victim. He's the type to defend himself rather than hurt someone else. He even stopped the 3 members of the rocket group from killing The Second Coming, and asked Agent to bring him alive.

They even unpaused Second at the end. Which makes me believe that victim would want to talk/negotiate with him. What victim needs is INFORMATION, and he's not getting that from The Chosen One.

victim is actually looking for The Dark Lord

I believe Second's powers has something to do with antivirus and codes. And firing that mega-laser actually disabled Alan's Code, and in fact, DID NOT KILL Dark.

Dark surviving off-screen is not really a far stretch. Because, it already happened before in the Flashback Episode.

Now, if you take into consideration all the stuff I mentioned above...

The rocket group approaches The Chosen One, asking for The Dark Lord.

Chosen, remembering all the crimes they did during the Internet Conquest, fearing for his friend, he gets apprehensive and starts to escape. Instead of letting him get away, they had to use all the tools at their disposal. And then enter the epic chase scene from Wanted.

Other sub plot theories

Purple will show up and help them, since he actually lived in the city before, judging by the location of his Mom's grave. Purple would know about the rocket group, and can guide/help the others to stop them.

We'll see Red cry for the first time.

The fight will go like this:

Green vs. Agent Smith - both great with staffs, spears, or any long-ranged weapons, I also think that Green would be fast enough to match Agent

Red vs. Hunter/Primal - pure strength and heavy muscle

Yellow and Blue vs. Ballista/Pixel - G U N S

Purple vs. Hazard/Sign - being trained by his father Navy, Purple is actually really good at hand-to-hand combat

Alan's Giant Cursor form is not going to show up this time.

victim is going to teach Second about his powers.

---

God, I can't wait for the next episode.

[aki-draws-things]

They got me upset at work, so I...scribbled a bit of sad. (Cause yes, I was angry, but angry me gets really emotional and I have no control over that.) (Yes i tried not to cry writing... barely succeeded, just barely.)

(Also, Jake thinking his nightmare was a prediction of the future is the same of me having dreams connected to bad things happening to very close family members. It happened before, different times)

@oh-surprise-its-me

Jake is 15 when he gets in a bit too much trouble. Police involved kind of trouble. The kind of trouble that could keep him off of USNA even.

Obviously they get him out of trouble, but, Ron is angry this time. It's 5 days before he and Tom are deployed again. Chris won't be able to protect him that way, he grounds Jake. Because yes, he is pissed. His kid could've jeopardized his own future, was it worth?! He thought they raised him better, he thought HE raised him better.

But Jake is 15, and he's angry at the world. And his dads are going to miss yet another birthday. Sure he understand their sacrifices, he wants to follow their footsteps after all, but he's still angry somehow. And maybe craves more of their attention, despite knowing they love him more than life itself. He's just so, so angry at papa because it was papa who grounded him.

So he just burst. He yells at him all the anger he has, he says things he never thought of even think, things he never wanted to say, hints he doesn't really think. He says them anyway and locks himself in his room.

He doesn't say bye when they leave. He waves at Tata, but that's all. No begging to get back safe, no good luck and stay safe. Just a wave.

Fuck. It breaks Ron's heart so much. His chickie said that he's not his father. He doesn't have his name, and if anything, he would take Tata's name anyway. He doesn't have his blood. Even though Ron was the only one between them who could give him blood when Jake needed it when he was a toddler. Jake said he doesn't love him that much either.

He knows he was just angry, he was crying when he yelled it.

Chris tried to talk to Jake, to have him apologize, at least before deployment. Jake knows, he can see the hurt in his Papa's eyes, but fuck, he can hold a grudge.

Yup. No good luck hug and kiss.

Ron tells Chris to give him a kiss from them every time he calls. Jake is not that angry anymore, but he's stubborn, just like them all. Especially Ron.

One time Ron doesnt call. Busy, they think, it's okay. Come on, they're navy.

But he doesn't call the following day either, or the one after. Or after. He skips 2 whole weeks and so does Tom. Chris tries not to think anything of it. He tries not to show.

Jake wakes up one night screaming at the top of his lungs, like he's in actual, physical pain, he cries, sobs. Chris runs to him so fast he almost trips over Ron's dog, a big mixed breed he found in the side of the road and who apparently only really loves ron, Tokyo. He believes his son is hurt.

Jake keeps sobbing when Chris gets to him, checks him all over, holds him tight. And calls for papa in the most desperate way. It takes almost two hours, and now a killer headache, for Jake to tell him he had a nightmare where Ron got shot down and he's found dead. All because he sent them anyway without a hug.

Chris calls Holly and wolf, he asks them for help, asks them to see why ron and tom went suddenly on radio silence for this long, see if they're okay. Jake is deadly sure they're not okay.

Ron was actually shot down. Left stranded. Took them a while to find him, he's alive though, unlike Jake's nightmare, barely but he's alive.

Broken ribs, one leg, a wrist and badly concussed. Bleeding. Cold.

Tom never called because he was searching for him and couldn't think of anything at all but to find Ron and get him home.

He's moved to a ground base hospital, Chris packs a few things, grabs Jake and flies there.

Ron's sedated when they get there, they had to take some extra scans, check that there's no bleeding in the brain. Jake freezes, he trembles, he breaks in their arms and cries. He's scared how close his own nightmare came to be real. He's terrified that they found papa when he had that nightmare, like he predicted it somehow.

He knows he's not a little kid anymore, but curls up in the bed, careful of all the injuries.

They don't know when he'll wake up, scans show nothing so it's just a waiting game now, they say he'll wake up when his body will be stronger.

Jake keeps having terrible nightmares until ron open his eyes again. (After too, just less terrible, only bad.)

[crinkled-emotions]

Day 14: "What's that smell?"

This prompt was altered because there was accidentally a day double up, so the prompt became what's that smell?

Rooster is in a car accident- it's not graphic, it's not described, he has a concussion and has surgery on his shoulder.

I was gonna make a joke about miles not reading these but honestly i think I gave myself a nightmare even thinking about it. I will now refrain from those jokes.

-

A knock at her door disturbed Phoenix out of her deep sleep, groaning as she glanced up to grab her phone. The second knock brought her back to reality and she frowned, slipping out of bed.

“Natasha Trace? SDPD.”

She rammed her fist on Bob’s door in passing, running to the front door. She’d barely unlocked it when she realised she wasn’t wearing pants and grabbed the throw blanket off the couch, wrapping it around her at the last second.

“I’m Natasha. What’s going on?”

“My name is Detective Burgess and this is my partner Detective Atwater; may we come in?”

She slowly backed up, letting the police into her apartment. Bob appeared from his room, shrugging on a hoodie and sweatpants.

“Tasha? Wha’s goin’ on?”

“The police are here.”

“Lieutenant Robert Floyd, US Navy. What can we do for you?”

Bob’s blue eyes flickered between his pilot and the police, standing by her shoulder.

“This is regarding a... Bradley Bradshaw?”

Phoenix swallowed.

“Is he okay?”

“Ma’am-“

“-no, tell me. Is he okay?”

“Ma’am...”

Detective Atwater gestured for her to sit on the couch; Bob stood by the edge almost as a protective guard dog.

“There’s been an accident.”

The air shot out of her chest and Phoenix abruptly turned to Bob.

“Can you-“

“-gotcha.”

He got up, moving down the hall into her room. Finally alone, Phoenix swallowed the panic and turned to the officers.

“Is it bad?”

“It’s probably better that we just get you to the hospital, ma’am, we can explain more later.”

Detective Burgess’ voice was polite but firm. Bob returned with a pair of sweatpants, a long sleeve shirt, her Nike sneakers and one of his hoodies... actually, it may have been Coyote’s... or even Hangman’s? Honestly, everyone was sharing sweatshirts except for her at this point. She ducked into the bathroom and quickly got dressed, going back to join Bob who had packed a bag.

“Tash,” he started softly, “you should probably call Mav.”

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped. Bob ran a hand down her arm, turning back to the detectives.

“Rooster- uh, Bradley- has a godfather in town. They only reconciled in the last couple months but he’s going to need to know.”

“We can make that notification if need be,” Detective Atwater offered softly. Phoenix shook her head.

“No; it needs to come from me. I can... I’ll call him from the hospital. Bob, could you call the others?”

“At a more decent time, yeah.”

“Let us give you a ride to the hospital,” Detective Burgess offered easily. She and Detective Atwater stood to wait by the front door. Before they could go anywhere, Bob pulled Phoenix up and into a hug.

“Take a breath; if it was serious they would have been more urgent. It’s goin’ to be alright.”

-

Maverick came flying through the doors to the emergency room, Penny in tow as he ran through hallways and dodged health workers.

“Mav.”

Bob rounded the corner, cradling a cup of coffee. Maverick put a hand on his shoulder.

“Is he okay? What do we know?”

“Phoenix is with him now.”

“Bob?”

“He was talkin’ for a little while but it was just... fuckin’ nonsense, Mav. He asked for his parents first, then you, uh, Seresin... then he realised Tasha was there and he made her promise that she wasn’t going anywhere. They’re just waiting for an OR to open up so they can fix his shoulder. It’s kinda gross right now but he hasn’t said anything about it and they doped him up on pain meds to the point that he’s probably going to sleep until they get him into surgery.”

“Can I see him?”

Bob stepped aside. Maverick took a deep breath then entered the room. His eyebrows raised.

“Fuck, Bradley. Oh, kid...”

-

Sitting on the seat by Rooster’s bedside, legs drawn to her chest under Bob’s hoodie, Phoenix scrubbed at her eyes tiredly as she watched over him. The door opened and Maverick stopped. Phoenix hummed.

“It looks bad; they sedated him for his shoulder but he should be heading up for surgery in a couple minutes.”

It was wrapped and iced, but Maverick knew the damage was extensive. He wasn’t entirely sure how he had hurt his shoulder so badly but it wasn’t his main concern. He took a seat on the end of the hospital bed and Phoenix adjusted, reaching for the cup of coffee sitting on the table beside her.

“What did they say about his head?”

“They said the MRI showed some signs of a TBI but they said they couldn’t see the extent of it until after they did the surgery on his shoulder and woke him up. If anything, he’s catching up on his sleep.”

Maverick snorted in amusement.

“God knows he could use that.”

“I didn’t know I was still his next of kin,” Phoenix murmured, “I thought it would have been changed to you.”

“We talked about it, but at the end of the day you were the one who showed up last time he was in a car accident, the one who hauled his ass to the hospital when he had appendicitis and the one who probably knows more of his history from when he left to now.”

“He’s my best friend. Sometimes we go months without talking but I know I can call him and he knows I’m only a text away.”

“That was how I felt about me and Goose; his dad. We didn’t have texting then and I only lived five minutes away for most of our friendship but I had no doubt if we were separated he would have still been there. I’m glad Bradley’s carried that into his relationships.”

There was a knock at the door and then a surgeon stepped into the room, sending a polite smile between Phoenix and Maverick.

“Alright; we’re going to take him into surgery now. I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

“Thanks. C’mon, Tash, we should probably start calling the others.”

Maverick got off the bed and Phoenix followed him out of the room. They joined Bob in the waiting room, flopping down either side of him. He cleared his throat, patting his phone on his thigh.

“I called Fanboy because I swear he doesn’t sleep and he told Payback, then he woke Coyote because he was yelling.”

“I always forget those three live together,” Maverick mused. Phoenix hummed.

“He called Hangman until do not disturb disabled and woke him up. He’s pissed and a little confused but now they all know. They’re all going to come by when he’s out of surgery.”

-

By the time Rooster was out of surgery and transferred to recovery the sun was rising and the rest of the Daggers, all early risers due to their career choices, stumbled into the waiting area. Fanboy passed around coffee that didn’t taste like ass and Payback had breakfast sandwiches for everyone. They all sat around the waiting room talking quietly until a nurse came to find Phoenix, suggesting quietly that she go in first alone before they let the others in. She glanced back to check with Maverick but he smiled and waved her off.

“Go for it; let us know when you’re ready.”

She squeezed his shoulder and followed the nurse down the corridor to his recovery room. The nurse stopped her just outside the door.

“I know it’s a lot to see, but know that at the moment we’re just waiting for him to wake up from the anaesthetic. We won’t know if he’s suffered any brain damage until we can wake him up and talk to him.”

“I get it,” she reassured, “he was in a similar accident a while back.”

“Don’t tell the cops that,” the nurse suggested. She stepped aside, letting Phoenix go and sit by Rooster’s bedside. She stifled a snort when she caught sight of his hospital gown, knowing how fast he’d try to get out of it and into something a little more comfortable. Luckily Penny had dropped off a change of clothes for him and they were now in Phoenix’s arms. She sighed, putting a hand on his arm.

“Can you stop doing this shit, dude? I’m not even thirty and I swear to god my heart can’t take your stunts. It physically hurts.”

She took stock of his other injuries; his head had a non-stick dressing covering what looked like a gash and she could only imagine the headache he was going to have when he woke up. There were bruises on both of his arms which most likely would be carried down his legs as well.

“Alright; let’s go let the team in. God knows they’ll be dying to see you.”

Phoenix gathered her thoughts and got up from the chair, touching Rooster’s side.

“You gotta wake up and knock Hangman down a few pegs, you’ve only been out a couple hours and he’s more insufferable than usual.”

-

They lay around for hours, switching out occasionally between bathroom breaks, errands and snack runs. For the most part Maverick and Phoenix didn’t move until the others managed to convince Phoenix to take a nap; she was asleep against Bob on the couch in the room in seconds. Maverick stayed by Rooster’s bedside, talking quietly with the others and then speaking to Penny briefly before he started getting antsy.

“Surely he should have woken by now,” he blurted, “this isn’t right.”

“Mav; he had surgery, these things take time. He’s probably exhausted too.”

“Man, I’m fuckin’ hungry,” Hangman complained loudly, earning multiple hushes from the others. He rolled his eyes, waving them off.

“I’m goin’ to find a decent meal that hasn’t come from a vending machine.”

“God, please get me something that isn’t a cheez-it,” Fanboy called after him which earned a vulgar hand gesture. Everyone snorted, stretching out. Bob glanced down at Phoenix who was still snoozing on his shoulder and smiled to himself, adjusting to make sure she was comfortable. With Hangman gone on his mission, Fanboy talking to his family in the parking lot and Payback having gone home for a nap, Bob turned back to Maverick.

“Sir; why don’t you go home? You’ve been awake this whole time, we’ll call you if he wakes up.”

“Thanks, Bob, but I’d rather stay.”

Bob had a feeling that was the way it was going to go and he nodded in understanding.

-

Another hour went by; the doctor came and went, followed by a nurse and then an occupational therapist to check if he was okay with his shoulder. Hangman finally returned with burritos for everyone; Bob woke Phoenix and she ate half then passed the rest to Coyote. As they were finishing and tossing whatever was left into the bag they heard a groan.

“What’s that smell?”

“Bradley?”

Maverick stood, watching Rooster turn his head to the side toward the paper bag of unwanted food.

“Is that a burrito?”

“Are you okay?”

“Can I have some?”

Rooster extended his hand but Payback caught it, placing it back on the bed.

“Maybe later when you can sit upright.”

“But I’m really hungry. Mav- please? Phoenix?”

“Nice try Roos,” Maverick snorted. He squeezed his good shoulder.

“How do you feel?” Fanboy asked.

“Hungry,” Rooster complained loudly. That made the others burst into laughter and Bob stood to go and find a nurse. Phoenix sat up, scrubbing at her eyes before going over to give Rooster a hug.

“Heart can’t take it, huh?” He whispered. In response she rolled her eyes.

“If you weren’t hurt I could actually smack you right now.”

“C’mon, Tash; m’fine. Shoulder hurts a little but it’s not bad.”

“Just wait until the drugs wear off,” Maverick smiled. He took another look over Rooster, then cleared his throat and gestured to the door.

“Back in a sec.”

The others watched him make a swift exit and exchanged looks, then Coyote slipped out the door to give him a pep talk and Hangman took a seat on the end of Rooster’s bed.

“So, how hungry are you again?”

“Make it a sex joke, Bagman, I dare you,” Bob said from the door.

“You’re such a mood killer, baby on board.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the comment.”

“Guys... food?”

“Not yet, Lieutenant.”

The doctor approached, nurse in tow and they did a quick exam. Satisfied, they shifted his bed into a sitting position.

“Let’s see how you go and we’ll check in after an hour or so. Then we can talk about some hospital food,” the doctor suggested.

“But... burrito...”

“Trust me, man, you don’t want a burrito on bed rest,” Coyote said as he came back in, Maverick by his side. Hangman nudged Rooster’s leg.

“What about water?”

“Hmmmm... fine.”

-

[anthrofreshtodeath]

More Crossover Business

Will this fic actually ever materialize in chapter format? who knows. Find previous snippets here and here.

Booth checks his watch for the third time since the four of them arrived at the scene. The man whose dog had found the shallow grave Doctors Brennan and Isles kneel in now is long gone, and the clearing crawls with scene techs and uniforms. Booth licks his lips, taps his pen on the tops of his index cards and straightens his tie.

“Don’t rush the science,” Brennan calls over her shoulder, waving her brush in his direction even though she’s not looking at him. She doesn’t have to.

“I didn’t say anything!” Booth hangs his arms out like making himself bigger will prove his point. 

Brennan shrugs. “You didn’t have to,” she says when she hands a magnifying glass to Maura, who has brushed away the soil covering what looks like a second femoral head. “Your psychomotor agitation says it all.”

“We’re uh, we’re not rushing,” Booth argues, though apparently he’s willing to concede the point that he was in fact motoring in some kind of way. It’s late morning, which will fly right into early afternoon, which is cutting it real close… “We’d just like to, you know, expedite things as much as they can be expedited.”

Jane snickers from where she stands, drawing a little diagram on her notepad to remind herself how exactly they found the body, its bones, while she waits for developed scene photos. She’s just finished questioning the state police, too, those first on scene when the body was called in, so she’s operating on the high that comes from a plethora of initial information. When Booth throws up his hands, she clears her throat. “It’s just that the Sixers are in town, and we may or may not have tickets.”

“No may or may not about it,” Booth says, stepping forward. “We definitely have tickets. So, the quicker the better.”

“You should not have done that,” Maura, in heels and a black trench coat over a navy dress, raises her eyebrow. She runs a gloved finger over the fabric of the decedent’s shirt sleeve, a blouse in a rich purple color she perhaps would have picked for herself, now stained and torn by the elements. “Not when we’re in the middle of all this.”

“This is about sports?” Brennan is flabbergasted, though by all accounts she should not be. “I’m not rushing the science for sports.”

Jane, in the middle of her sketch, her visual brain whirring, snaps her head up. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She says, just a little louder than she should be. 

Brennan looks up, eyes right on Jane’s, blinking. Her throat is long and that deepens her voice when she asks, “What?”

“You said that kinda funny,” Jane curls one brow up and snarls. She blows right through Booth’s stop sign, the waving of his fingers under his chin. The shaking of his head and the forward press of his lips. “Why you gotta say sports like that?”

Maura bolts up. “I- I’m sure Doctor Brennan means that it’s hard to imagine sports being more important than this case,” she says diplomatically to Booth. When she turns to Jane, the diplomacy dwindles into passive aggression. “It’s hard to imagine anything being more important than this case; I’m sure you’d agree.”

Jane also blows right through the insinuation that she’s put this case above their relationship and waves Maura off. “No, no, wait a minute, here-”

Brennan dusts off her coveralls at the knee. She doesn’t give Jane’s venom a chance, and supplies some of her own instead. “Oh no, I meant that sports in general are a waste of time.”

“Oh man,” Booth mumbles. “Bones, don’t-”

Brennan does wait for him, either. “Sports shouldn’t have the importance it does to society, let alone the importance it apparently has to this unit right now,” she starts. Maura sucks her teeth and smirks. It is the first, albeit tiny, sign that Brennan views this budding crime-fighting enterprise as a team. Not a consult, not a service to be provided, but a team. Well, maybe all of the above, but most definitely the latter. 

Jane is going to explode. 

“Rizzoli-” Booth taps her elbow and Jane yanks away. 

“Are you kiddin’ me? You get trash canned by some jocks in high school? You think you’re some kinda evolved being because you don’t like sports?”

“No, no, and exactl-”

This time, it’s Booth that cuts in on his partner. “Bones, she, y’know, she has this thing. This… she thinks sports are…” he wiggles his fingers in front of his mouth, “for kids. And that the people who play them are basically, well, overgrown kids.”

“Again, are you serious?! Didn’t you-? I-” Jane flails, going red, unable to complete a damn sentence. 

Booth doesn’t need her to. “Yeah, I did. Football. Trust me, I’ve registered my complaints with the whole idea.”

“But anthropologically speaking, it’s true!” as distanced from emotion as she boasts about being, Brennan registers the heat of an argument and latches onto it. And Jane, well, she fights fire with fire. They face off close enough to share air. “Not only are athletes arrested developmentally, but so are the adults that watch them. In fact, I find that even worse.”

“Well, let me talk in a way you’ll understand: anthropologically speaking, sports are the entire skeleton of the city of Boston. Peel back the superficial layers, and the backbone looks a whole hell of a lot like the iron of Fenway,” Jane pushes her index finger in the air like she’s threatening to use it against the shoulder of the world’s foremost anthropologist, forensic or otherwise.

“That makes no sense,” Brennan posits. Maura blinks. There’s more finesse, more bite to Brennan than she originally thought. To wield passion and cold disinterest with such oscillation, such ease, requires knowledge. Intent. Despite her best intentions, Maura’s heart begins to thump for Jane. 

“Maybe not in the strictest of terms, but it’s true,” Maura tells her counterpart. “Boston makes sports a religion. Anthropologically, you can understand that, surely.”

“I’m not sure that makes it any better,” Brennan chides. 

Booth blinks, unsure what to be offended at more. “Listen, Doctor Burn-in-hell, some of us actually care about this stuff-”

“You’re comin’ for God, too?! Who pissed in your-” Jane is about to lunge, but Booth pulls her towards him.

“Ok, ok, you know what? We’re gonna go. We’re gonna go back to the city, and we’re gonna take a little break, from all the crime fighting here. You two are gonna get things ok’d to go back to the lab, and well, we’ll maybe see you before we head out. Game’s at 7:30,” says Booth, pushing Jane’s shoulders toward his car up the hill.

“I’m gonna go postal, kid, she says one more thing,” Jane growls just for him to hear, and Booth sighs, big and airy out of his rib cage.

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbles. “Just trust the process. Trust my process.”

“Really? She shits all over our entire lives and you’re gonna give me the sixer’s mantra?”

“Keep walkin’.”

—-

Maura stands over the bones they discovered this morning, having beat them to the morgue by just minutes. Now, she’s scrubbed up, with her hair pulled back with a clip, and she wears her white coat.

It is her clinician’s ensemble. 

Brennan wears loaner blue scrubs because she cares about the integrity of evidence, and because even though Maura has offered her one of the blue coats of the crime lab, it’s not her blue coat. Not the one from the Jeffersonian.

Maura supposes she understands that. 

She’s not even sure how she’d feel in Brennan’s shoes at the moment. She’s consulted, practiced medicine in corners of the world very near to the ones Brennan’s practiced forensic anthropology in. And yet, she sees how dogged Brennan is, how committed to both her cases and the pursuit of her scholarship, and she doesn’t know if she could keep up. Could she leave Boston for months at a time to consult on a case for the FBI, seeing her friends and loved ones only sporadically, if ever? Could she just up and go, pack all her belongings and live out of a suitcase in a motel for weeks at a time? Maura doesn’t have to, but in Brennan she sees a person she once was and needs to conjure up wisps of again. “I admire you,” she says nakedly as Brennan readies her station.

“Thank you,” says Brennan with the utmost confidence, looking not at Maura but at her array of instruments. Then she falters with a smile. “Why is that?”

“Well, you can uproot your life for the cause, if that makes sense,” Maura tells her. “Your commitment to the truth and to the science is… unmatched and you are the best at what you do.”

“I agree with that assessment,” Brennan says, back to her task. She snaps on a pair of purple gloves and puts on her protective eyewear. There is a long pause. “And I admire you, too.”

Maura brightens considerably, a blush spreading over her tight, grinning cheeks. “Really?”

“Yes,” Brennan says like it’s obvious, especially for two geniuses in the room. “Your position is a political one. You could let the powers that be sway you, but you make decisions based solely on the evidence in front of you and your clinical expertise. That call with the governor? I’ve seen men twice your size crumble under that kind of pressure.”

Maura thinks maybe Brennan is right. At least, it may do her well to think about herself more like Brennan does, with assuredness in her ability and a fuck-everyone-else-because-their-IQ-is-lower attitude. “I try. I can’t say I always succeed, but I do try. Working with Jane and her brother helps. Everything is like an honor competition with them,” she says, then she picks up a phalanx and arranges it on the right hand. “I’m going to have to talk about Criminalist Roberts about his eye for detail. This is unacceptable.” 

Brennan peers over Maura’s shoulder and nods in approval even though Maura can’t see her. “I usually have interns to do it, and even then I have to run through the bones again,” she tells Maura. “So this is… to be expected. Or at least, easily remedied.” She walks back to the left foot, makes another couple of changes, and sighs, picking up the fibula and staring down it like the barrel of a rifle. “Just two more. Not bad. There’s something here,” she comments, eyes zeroed in. “Booth thinks you’re sleeping together.”

Maura chokes. She sputters, with barely enough wherewithal to turn away from the bones. 

“Doctor Isles? Are - are you alright? Are you choking? Let me-” Brennan crosses the distance between them in a flash, but by then Maura has stiff-armed her.

“No no,” Maura wheezes. Then, she regains a little bit of breath. “I’m fine. I’m sorry - Booth thinks what?”

“He thinks that you and Jane are sleeping together. I told him that you were divorced,” Brennan states. 

“Well…” Maura pauses. Were they that obvious? Their private moments had been very private, and she’d been especially caustic with Jane recently. The sex brought out the bitterness. How could he…? “Agent Booth should mind his own business,” she settles on, though she knows it sounds weak off her lips.

Brennan thankfully turns back to their work. She speaks a note into her recorder then sets it back down on her work station. “He’s incapable. You know, speaking of sports, looking at this irregularity and the wear and tear on her other ankle, I’d posit she received an ORIF for this break. Booth and I have had this conversation before.”

Maura walks over to see exactly what Brennan has seen, and leans in close. “You’ve had this conversation about my marriage? Oh yes. Basketball injury almost certainly. The wire is gone, but the hole is definitely there.”

“What? No, about sports. And you aren’t married,” Brennan says.

“My previous marriage, then,” Maura tells her. “And I think it’s a right of passage between partners to argue about sports.”

Before Brennan can comment further, the doors to the autopsy suite burst open to reveal Jane. “Hey,” Jane breathes out, like every moment is of the utmost importance. She adjusts her belt around her tucked-in shirt and leans on the table closest to the door, the one next to the one occupied by their victim. “Anything yet?”

“Do you often interrupt the autopsy process?” Brennan, face schooled into cold curiosity, cocks her head at Jane when she asks.

Jane stops. She had crossed her arms, but drops them at the question. She knows her arms are long and that they’re intimidating when they’re left to rest by her sides. “You and me got a problem?” she responds, one foot forward.

Maura cuts in. “Well, Doctor Brennan found evidence of a repaired broken ankle,” she tells Jane. “And based on healed injuries on the left ankle, we’re looking at a sports injury. Probably basketball.”

“That, that girl,” Jane, suddenly uninterested in Brennan, taps her mouth with her knuckle when she turns to Maura. “The college hoops player - what was her name? The one that went missing in Amherst? Charlotte Strand. This has gotta be her.”

“Well-” starts Maura, though Brennan finishes.

“Conjecture at the table can cloud objectivity and bias the mind toward desired conclusions, not accurate ones,” she says. “We have no idea who this is yet.”

“Oh, so we do have a problem,” Jane growls. “You know, you-”

Brennan stands, unphased, unafraid, with a long bone in her hands. 

“It’s ok,” Maura literally gets between them. Jane runs extra hot, and Maura curls an eyebrow. “She’s merely pointing out what I’ve always told you. So, you can either stay objective, or stay quiet. But you are allowed to stay.” And apparently, Booth and Brennan know about the current status of their relations, so she straightens the buttons on Jane’s shirt. “If you’re good.”

Jane gives Maura a dark stare, one that Maura knows as lustful, appreciative, and angry all at once. Then, she turns that stare on Brennan. “I’m gonna go back upstairs. Please call me to discuss your pathology findings as soon as you can. I know when the hell I’m not wanted.”

And with that, Jane leaves, Maura assuming it will be the last time they see each other until the morning. There are those tickets she and Booth have. Maura checks her watch. They’ll be leaving in an hour or two. 

The door slams with as much clamor as it opened.

“She’s quite abrasive,” says Brennan.

Maura smirks, shaking her head softly as if to say really? “She’s… dedicated. As dedicated as you or me. She wants to find the answers as much as we do.”

“So I shouldn’t take it personally?”

“Oh, she means it very personally,” Maura counters. When Brennan grows quiet, grows pensive, looks at the ground when she thinks Maura doesn’t see her, Maura softens. “It doesn’t mean that she doesn’t like you.”

“I upset her,” says Brennan finally. “Even if I think what I do about athletes. And conjecture.”

Maura chuckles. “Yes, you did,” she says. “But it doesn’t take much, Doctor Brennan. You’ll probably do it again.”

___

Brennan has snapped off her gloves and changed out of her loaner scrubs, back into her jeans and blouse. She buttons her blazer at the middle, and pushes the number 3 on the elevator, instead of the 1, which would have taken her to the parking garage where her rental car was housed.

She is not… unfeeling. She also is not stupid. And a rift in the fabric of the team, of any team, doesn’t bode well for results. She knows this from her time at the Jeffersonian, she knows it from her time in Guatemala, and she knows it will apply now. Booth is here to assist, and so is she, but Jane leads this case. And, Brennan has to admit, Jane is good at leading the case. Just like Maura had said, she shows a singular dedication, a competence for procedural work that Brennan admires even if it’s based on speculation and law enforcement’s seeming obsession with the gut. 

So, Brennan must find Jane.

Luckily, Jane sits at her desk, poring over those now-developed photographs from the morning. Even more luckily, so that he doesn’t have to see this, Booth isn’t anywhere to be found in the bullpen. She pulls open the glass door quickly, hoping that she can be done before he returns. 

Jane looks up. “Hey, you uh, you here to shit on paper football next? Because Booth and I are probably going to start that up when he gets back. Kill time before we Uber to the Garden,” she grouses when she sees Brennan.

Brennan pulls her lips into a flat line and one hand fiddles with the strap of the bag over her shoulder. “I don’t know what that is. You shouldn’t play football though. Your brain-“

“Yeah yeah, the CTE. Preachin’ to the choir, here, but paper football doesn’t even require gettin’ up from your desk,” Jane says. And when Brennan stands there, all unsure and, well, fidgety, she drops the file on her desk and motions over to the chair next to it. “C’mere, I’ll show ya.”

Brennan keeps the original purpose of her visit in mind, and then takes the seat. She sets her bag on the floor when Jane brandishes the paper triangle. “This - is the football,” she announces.

“It’s a piece of paper,” Brennan curls a brow - she may have in fact overestimated Jane.

“Yes. That has been folded into a football. So, the goal here is a touchdown. And how you do that is you prop it up like this…” Jane pauses, sets up her attempt, “and bam! You flick it…” she does, and watches where it goes. “And if it gets to the edge without going over, that’s a touchdown. Wanna try?”

Jane is asking because Jane got a touchdown on her first attempt. Suddenly, Brennan is giggly and a little nervous. “Just… ok,” she thinks through it, taking the football and holding it with her index finger on the table. “Like this?”

“Somethin’ like that, yeah,” Jane tells her. “Don’t think about it, just go for it.”

“That’s impossible. I-“ 

“Just do it, Doc,” Jane orders.

Something about the authority in Jane’s register spurs Brennan forward. She does it, and flicks it right over the desk on the other side of them. “Hey! Wow! That’s good, right? It went way over!”

Jane shakes her head, but she’s laughing. Smiling. “No, kid, no points. Part of the skill is the finesse. You put too much on it. But hey, pretty good for your first try.”

Brennan licks her lips. Jane has called Booth kid several times, even though he is not a child. It appears endearing? Her stomach churns, flutters in response. “I… I came up here to apologize,” she says so she doesn’t have to pay attention to the feeling.

Jane leans back, but drops her clasped hands between her spread knees. She taps one toe on the linoleum. “Oh?”

“I find that, even if I don’t regret the content of what I said, I do regret that things feel contentious between us,” continues Brennan.

“Contentious, huh?” Jane prods.

Brennan chuckles once. “You sound like my psychologist. Well, a psychologist who is my friend. Who I suppose is also my psychologist. But yes, contentious. It isn’t conducive to teamwork.”  

“I think it can be, sometimes,” Jane counters. “Gets the blood boiling, the wheels turning.”

“I know that sports are important to you. And while I don’t understand why, I can understand that it might hurt your feelings for me to constantly dismantle their merits,” says Brennan.

Jane’s mouth drops open just a bit. “That’s a little far… but you know what? Apology accepted. Things are good.”

“They’re good?” Asks Brennan, more relieved than she thought she’d be.

Jane puts her hands up in a ceasefire. “All good,” she says.

It is then that Brennan sees the scars, reminded of the wounds that must have caused them. Her face narrows into clinical concentration. “It must have been very painful,” she says, softly and with authority. She had read about Charles Hoyt and the detective who ended him. “The number of transected nerves. You seem to carry tightness even now.”

Jane’s hands drop down again. There is less shame now, but not none. “Uh, you know, I hardly think about it anymore,” she lies.

Brennan reaches for a hand anyway. “Can I see?”

Jane folds her hands in her lap and scoots back her chair. When Brennan looks up, she sees that Boothian smile, extra handsome because it hides a lot of pain for her benefit. “No can do, Doctor Brennan.”

“Why? I can help,” Brennan reasons.

Jane sighs. She crosses her arms and leans her elbows on her desk to get closer to Brennan. “No, thank you. The last forensic scientist I let touch my hands, I ended up marryin’ ‘em. And look how well that turned out.”

Brennan laughs quietly. “Well, I can assure you we won’t be getting married. I won’t be marrying anyone,” she says.

“Oh yeah?” Asks Jane. She looks over at the desk across from her because Booth flashes in her mind and she frowns. “Why’s that?”

“Marriage is an antiquated social contract that operates on the principle that women are property, not people. I don’t need marriage to prove my love for someone,” Brennan answers with a straight spine and some conviction. 

Jane shrugs. “To each their own, I guess. I can see why Maura likes you. You have the same way of thinking about a lot of things.”

“But she married you,” Brennan counters, but it is almost kind. Caring.

“She did. Think she regrets that one, though,” Jane smirks. Brennan hears the bitterness in the vowel formants. Jane is burdened by a sadness that looks old on her. She hunches when she reads her file because it is heavy - not the information, but the melancholy. It doesn’t make empirical sense, but Brennan knows it because it’s not the first pair of strong shoulders she has watched round before her in brokenness. A few seconds of silence pass, and Jane wakes up her computer again. “Booth and Korsak are out talking to potential witnesses, but they should be back soon, if you wanna wait here for him.”

Brennan nods, but blows past it. “You know, I’ve kissed several women before.”

Jane drops the file to her desk, but recovers with just a cough or two. “Hmm, me too,” she says.

Brennan smiles wryly. “Oh, that’s funny, because you’re out and you were married to a woman.”

“You got it,” laughs Jane, who cannot help but think of Maura, “even if the past tense hurts me a little bit.”

“While I overall prefer sex with men almost exclusively, I can admit there was certain appeal in the touch of a woman. More tender. There’s more understanding,” Brennan continues.

“Sometimes,” says Jane. At that moment, the elevator doors open and she can see Booth and Korsak emerging. She tosses a glance in that direction. “Hey look, there they are. Good chat, huh? Thanks for comin’ up here. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I think I did,” Brennan says when they both stand. She touches Jane’s elbow and Jane nods. 

“Fair enough. Take this,” Jane says when she produces the paper football. “When we get back from the game tonight, make Booth teach you the rest of the rules.”

Brennan takes the paper, turning it between her fingers, surprised by the sturdiness of the simple design. “Ok,” she says, “I will.”

[clavissionary-position]

Koibaku Character Impressions

Aaand of course my translator starts glitching the second I get to Naosuke in the prologue >.>

Anyway, my first impressions of everyone so far (please forgive inaccuracies since I use a translator to play).

SAITO

Straight-laced former-Shinsengumi current-Tokyo-police-dude(?) with an understated gentleness to him. Of all the Ikeseries posterboys that I'm familiar with he reminds me of Napoleon and Ray the most. He's heccin easy on the eyes, but nothing else has really captured my interest so far.

KIDO

Kind, easy-going, progressive-thinking (feminist icon) and gentlemanly. He's basically the advisor to the Emperor(?). All the characters on the Meiji Government side seem to answer to him. He reminds me of Comte and Victor!

MORI

Not a romanceable suitor (yet?) but he has a sprite and he's a quirky military doctor. He's very playful and inviting and hospitable (he literally invites Rin, the MC, to come stay with him while she stays in Tokyo and tries to get her memory back). He reminds me of Gilbert if Gilbert hadn't joined the dark side. Also I think he robbed Mousse in a dark alley and stole his outfit.

KATSU

I don't know how I feel about him. He's one of the characters who is the most openly distrustful of Rin. He's also the only one so far who's made a pass at her, joking or otherwise. So I'd say he reminds me of Nokto. He was against Kido hiring a female, but he might have a more nuanced reason for it besides it being the prevailing attitude in that era. And he did quickly accept the decision without a fuss, but it seemed more because Kido is such a high-ranking official. Katsu leads the navy.

SAIGO

Charismatic general. He's really just so very charming and easy to talk to. And that reminds me of Jin and Leon and Masa. I don't really have a lot else to say about him. He's very good at keeping his guard-dog at bay XD

TOSHIAKI

Angry pomeranian general. He tiny, he bark, he probably bite. He literally has a little fangy sticking out of his mouth. He's SOOO overprotective about Saigo. He. Is. ADORABLE. Reminds me of Hideyoshi in terms of "my lord can do no wrong and I would die for him" vibes. Yves too! And though I don't know a whole lot about Kanetsugu, I think the guard dog bit might be similar to him?

ENOMOTO

My dude is a prisoner!? Only because he was on the losing side of the Boshin War. But he has his own little research room at the prison and gets so caught up in his research that he forgets to eat for DAYS at a time. Without showing any exhaustion. He's got radiant vibes. I think I might love him. I don't know. Mitsunari? I don't know. Dazai minus his rainy vibes?? ;;

HIJIKATA

Alluring. Somehow elusive. Leaves an almost ghostly impression in the brief encounter Rin has with him. AND HE'S GOT INHUMANLY COLD HANDS SO LET ME JUST PREPARE MY TEARS. I think he's definitely for the Leonardo-enjoyers. And Galileo-voice-enjoyers :)

NAOSUKE

I don't know because my stupid translator decided to glitch just as I got to him :( But he's mysterious. Seems to huff a quiet, knowing, malicious laugh instead of giving a straight answer. Will update after I play the last bit of the prologue.

edit: finished the prologue. HECCIN Shakespeare vibes. He only says as much as he needs to and leaves the rest to his mysterious and unsettling aura. During Rin's encounter with him he helps her back to government HQ when she gets lost, but ofc it's weird that he even knew where she was going in the first place hehe :)

???

WHO IS HE?? Foreigner dude that Rin only sees in passing. 0 interaction in the prologue. And he's not romanceable afaik

[berylcups]

Dolce’s Full Bio 🍭

Name: Sadako Kyari

Allias (if applicable): Dolce

Namesake: Dolce & Gabbana; Kyari Pamyu Pamyu

Nicknames: Dolcezza, Sada, short stack, short cake, cup cake,

Nicknames for others: Bǎobèi, Tiánxīn, Kě’ài,

Age: 22

Birthday: October 12th

Death day: April 2nd 2001

Cause of Death: drowning; falling into the canal from getting disoriented from hypoglycemia

AMAB/AFAB/Intersex: AFAB

Gender Identity: Cis Female

Height: 5’0

Weight: 100lbs

Handness: right

Hair Color: dark navy blue

Eye Color: teal

Type of Voice: soft, lilted calm. Gets higher pitch when angry

Eyesight:. 20/20

Race: Singaporean Chinese and Japanese

Hometown: Bukit Panjan Singapore

Current Residency: Napoli Italy

Moral Alignment: Neutral evil

MBTI Personality Type (Optional): ESTJ-A

Medical & Dental Health: Hyperthyroidism- is always hungry and feels too warm

Did not develop Wisdom teeth

Mental health:

Severe abandonment issues, OCD, Bipolar Disorder,

Scars/burns/birthmarks/tattoos: Dog bite scar on right ankle

Criminal Record: 2 murders pre-passione

Awards & Education: grew up trilingual- Mandarin, English-Singlish dialect, and Japanese.

Learned Italian from scratch when she was put into boarding school in Napoli. Excelled in geometry, Italian, and Art class.

Went to college for fashion design and excelled but stopped halfway through due to murdering her 2 classmates that sabotaged her coming of age kimono.

Past Experience:

Dolce had to make the choice of who she wanted to live with- her inattentive mom and stepdad that treats her with contempt or her irresponsible father that pays attention but doesn’t always make the right choices.

She picked her father much to his hidden dismay. She traveled a lot with her father as he took hits out for Dio.

He eventually put her in a boarding school in Napoli Italy so she would have some sort of stability. He would visit every so often about once a month. Right before she graduated he suddenly stopped showing up. She didn’t take it too well, he either died due to the hazards of the job or he abandoned her. She has trust and abandonment issues because of this.

Once she started college she went for the fashion designer path. She made some friends along the way and some who weren’t as well meaning as others. 2 students wanted to get ahead of her and decided to sabotage her fashion class final-her coming of age kimono, basically making her fail.

Dolce snapped. With the loss of her family, her hard work, and now her dream of becoming a designer, Dolce felt like life has no meaning for her anymore. She stopped at nothing to find out who destroyed her work and punish them accordingly.

She hunted down and murdered both sabotagers. She killed 1 in the showers with a switchblade she hid in her nether region and the other in her dorm with a seam ripper.

Risotto Nero ran into a distressed Dolce with a large foul smelling suitcase that she was trying to dump into the Sarno river.

Finding her suspicious he interrogates her and finds out the contents of the suitcase to be 2 missing girls from the news that are partially melted and decomposed including the skeleton being melted.

She begs for his silence and not alarm the police so she can stay in Italy. Him being interested in her stand powers let her slide if she joins his hitman team.

She had a lot to prove to the murderous men but they already had been exposed to Calamari and their strange stand powers and proved themselves to be competent.

So they gave Dolce slightly a little more slack than when Calamari started. Calamari with their forensic knowledge helped Dolce to destroy the bodies.

Dolce being the charismatic and ambitious person she is was able to sweet talk herself into a permanent position in the hitman team. That still didn’t excuse her from the usual teasing from the rest of the gang of course. In order to be a hitman you need some thick skin.

Thoughts on love:

Love is a powerful thing that Dolce obsesses over. She only got any love and attention from her maternal grandparents and their Filipino caretaker until her grandparents passed away from cancer and old age. She was neglected and abandoned by her parents so she feels the need to get love and to receive love intensely. It doesn’t matter if it’s physical, emotional, or platonic love. She’s starved of it and she needs it.

Love is the one thing she cannot buy nor a skill that can be mastered. It’s the one thing she wants more than money or fame.

She’s determined to have a family and a partner and to love them more than her parents could ever love her.

Sexual and/or Romantic Identity: Pansexual;Panromantic- masculine leaning

People they like:

She likes people who are open and honest. She likes surrounding herself with people who know what they want. She’s not interested in those who beat around the bush or are into formalities. Be straightforward with her and she will respect you. On the other hand, she feels the need to protect and befriend the shyer soft spoken people. She wants to be around people who have passion and dedication- people with dreams. She’s your hype girl and cheerleader. She might not know anything about what you’re into but she will support you 100% of the way and take the time to learn about your passions.

She also has a soft spot for the elderly and highly respects her elders, excluding her parents.

People they hate:

Dolce looks calm and calculated but… there are a lot of kinds of people that she absolutely hates.

She hates deadbeat parents. Seeing parents not paying attention to their kids as they beg for affection and attention just set a fire inside her. If she has a chance she’d beat that deadbeat whore/bastard with an inch of their life if she had a chance to without traumatizing the kid. Despite that, Dolce is also hypocritical. there’s nothing more than she hates than seeing a happy family. If she can’t buy or work towards it, it will drive her crazy. She never had loving attentive parents and seeing others get that enrages her. She gets a sick satisfaction from targets begging for their lives and to think about their family. She might torture them more by threatening the families lives too or just outright kill the guy in spite for caring about their family.

She hates anyone who gets in the way of her dreams. She has a strong will and won’t allow anyone to stop her. She’s ambitious to the max. She hates her ex friends/ classmates for sabotaging her fashion designs and bullying her. She absolutely hates Giorno because his dream clashes with hers. She wants the drug money for herself and her team. Despite that, she admires Giornos unstoppable ambition and yet it annoys her and she wants to destroy it. She’s so ambitious to the point of self destruction. She knows she won’t be able to live her dreams if she self-destructs but her desire to destroy her enemies outweighs her desire for her dreams.

She hates Mista because he’s a nuisance that’s in her way. Getting shot in the arm and ruining her shirt already puts you on her shit list. She wouldn’t love more than to see him get frozen to death or watch him melt into a disgusting puddle of filth.

Dreams for the future:

Her true dreams died the minute her final project- coming of age kimono was sabotaged.

In passione her dream is to obtain the drug money and achieve enough wealth and power in order to make her father want to come back and be proud of her so they can be a family again. She also dreams of tying the knot with her partner and having a family. But she wants to be the one to pop the question to her ice gremlin.

Relationships(name a person that they have a connection to and what their relationship is like[friend, enemy, Ex, current lover, family , etc.]):

Kaede Kyari - Maternal Grandmother- Deceased

Hiroshi Kyari - Maternal Grandfather- Deceased

Sachiko Kyari -Estranged Mother

Unnamed Abusive stepfather - Estranged

Rubber Soul - Absent/Deadbeat Father

–

Ghiaccio- Best Friend & Partner

Melone- Best friend

Risotto- Leader

Formaggio- good friend

Pesci- good friend

Sorbet- parental figure

Gelato- parental figure

Illuso- tolerates in small doses

Prosciutto- tolerates in small doses

Quotes (what do they say often? What’s their life’s motto?):

“Wah lau!(omg) ONLY 20 million lira? Between all of us??? No fair!”

“Hěn hǎo!”(very good !)

“Tā mā de!” ( oh fuck/damn it!)

“I am NOT CHINESE. I speak Chinese. I am from SINGAPORE. How about you travel the world a bit mirror man???”

“To take a leaf out of one’s book means to copy what someone else does. The leaf means loose leaf paper, to rip a page out of a book and plagiarize the information. Oh… you still think it’s stupid ? I know it’s upsetting to you but it isn’t worth getting worked up over it, BǎoBèi.”

“God! You know it gets me frisky when you’re forceful and angry!”

Hobbies; fashion design, sewing, knitting, Chinese calligraphy , practicing Italian, teaching Chinese (she can be harsh when it comes to others not knowing their tones),

Habits & quirks :

has an oral fixation- so she’s always sucking on lollipops or chewing gum or sucking on hard candy

likes to pace around the room- hates standing /sitting still,

eats twice the amount of carbohydrates and sugar a normal person eats for her stand,

She is equally Singaporean Chinese and Japanese but identifies more as Singaporean Chinese since living with her father the longest.

Gets up ridiculously early-5am,

Her morning routine must never be interrupted or else her whole day is “ruined”

She has OCD and has some strong superstitions,

She transliterates all of Italian cities and foods in katakana so she can pronounce them better

Others find it “quirky “ or weird but her vehicle of choice is a creeper van. She says it’s for extra storage, but based on the suspicious stains she might have been using her van for “work” as well. And “its all I can afford !” She claims.

Pet peeves: hates writing in red ink-believes ones life is cut short when names are written in red

People not using correct tones for Chinese words-

Cutting noodles and pasta

People only liking things because it’s “popular” and not just liking them to like them. (Ex-liking Rolex watches only because they are expensive)

Misidentifying her nationality

———————————————

Notes: I hope I made my Dolce interesting enough… I’ve been working on her back story for about two years 😭 she was originally going to be a part 4 character but I had a random thought while watching part 5… what if she went delulu for the most feral gremlin looking mofo ever??? Nerds need love too so I slapped her and Ghia together and it just STUCK. I can’t undo it. They are inseparable 😭💖💙 I’m sorry lmao