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#that's technically thick rick
elrohare · 3 months
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"Ace replaced the reader character and slept with the rest of them." I couldn't ask for anything better than that. lol Trying to see which questions to ask you because I already bug yea on what you're already writing lol 19 (if possible) 21, 27, 29, pretty please -- with Paul Stanley's candy cane on top! lol
19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.
I literally have only one WIP. Here's the first bit:
Late 1987 
“Oh god, Ace,” said Paul Stanley. “Fuck me.”
Ace Frehley cackled, leaning against the door frame of the hotel room he was sharing with his lover. Technically they each had their own room every night on the KISS tour, but it was rare for them to use both or to spend the night apart. 
Paul had spread himself across the bed, fully naked, his cock hard, his long fingers wrapped around it. Black curls framed his beautiful face, his red lips parted, his eyes at half mast. Ace took a moment to admire and appreciate him. From the thick mat of chest hair to his lean thighs, everything about Paul was perfect to Ace’s eye. That Paul should go to such effort to show himself off like this for Ace made his heart skip a beat.
“Why ya gotta look like such a goddamn dream, Paulie?” Ace asked as he crawled onto the bed next to Paul. He pressed up against Paul’s side, reaching out to stroke his chest, letting his fingers dance idly through the hair and over Paul’s warm skin. He traced a circle around one nipple and watched it harden before he even touched the sensitive peak. Ace bent his head and licked the hard point, listening for Paul’s sharp intake of breath. 
“I miss when mine felt like this,” he commented with a sigh. “When we… ya know… were vampires.”
21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why?
Yes, there was a scene towards the end of "Strange Ways" involving Guy, the pizza delivery guy who was a big KISS fan, and his friends, which just didn't work - it was written for comedy, and just didn't work at that point, so I had to scrap it.
27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why?
Not really, though I'm always concerned that no one will read my nonsense.
29. Share a bit from a fic you'll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic.
Well, here is the scene from question 21, as mentioned above, deleted from "Strange Ways" - for context, KISS have all become vampires and have been invited to a vampire party. Guy, the pizza delivery guy, and his friends are huge fans who are happy to let the band drink their blood. I thought it would be funny to make the band ride around in a pizza delivery van, so I was trying to set that up, but sadly I had to scrap it because it just didn't fit into the story.
“Okay, so, what if we just bust into Rick’s and bam! Stake through the heart!”
The sun had barely set when the doorbell rang, signaling the return of Guy and his friends. When Ace and Paul came down from their bedroom, they were already ensconced in the parlor with Tracy.
“You’d be dead before you got to her,” Tracy said, shaking her head. “I saw her throw Ace across the room without even touching him.”
“I mean, ya don’t gotta tell everyone that, Tracy,” Ace said, cackling. 
“It was awful,” Tracy said, but she was looking at Paul and Ace knew she was remembering what had happened to him that night. 
“Honestly, I don’t know how any of us can take out Star,” Paul said. “I think the best bet is still getting Gene to burn that voodoo doll.”
“Question,” said John, “How does burning a voodoo doll kill a vampire?”
“It doesn’t,” said Beau. “But it might do something else to them.”
“Like what?” asked Tracy. 
Beau shrugged. “I’m not sure, but voodoo is pretty mysterious. Almost always works, too.”
“Well, we haven’t been able to talk Gene into it yet,” Ace said. “He’s bein’ real stubborn about it.”
“It’s just that it sounds so much easier than a stake through the heart,” Guy said.
“No voodoo,” said Gene, sounding grumpy as he and Shannon joined them. Peter was right behind. “I mean it.”
“So we’re back to stake through the heart?” asked Shannon. 
“We’ll have to talk about it later,” said Gene. “We’ve been invited to a party at Lee Harrington’s townhouse in the French Quarter.”
“You don’t think we should prioritize stopping you from potentially killing someone over a party, Gene?” Paul asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 
“I can’t strategize on an empty stomach, and Lee will certainly have some hors d’oeuvres,” Gene replied lasciviously.
“Genie, your dinner is already here,” Shannon said sweetly, gesturing towards the boys. 
Guy pulled his shirt off. “I’m ready!”
“That’s very generous of you,” said Gene, “But I’d hate to take too much of your blood. You need time to recover in between feedings.”
“You never gave me time to recover,” Paul said irritably. 
“Put your shirt back on, Guy,” Tracy said. “Please.”
“Just ready to help the Demon!” Guy said enthusiastically as he struggled back into the garment.
“I appreciate that,” said Gene.
“Do you guys want a ride to the Quarter?” he asked. “I can take you in the Domino’s van! It’s big enough to fit the whole band.”
Peter howled. “Thanks, but– we have a limo!”
Gene cleared his throat. “Actually… the limo is Star’s. And it’s unavailable to us at the moment.”
“You didn’t just hire a new one?” Paul asked coolly.
“Not yet. Tracy, add that to your to do list.”
“Is there money for that, Genie?” Shannon asked.
“There’s going to be plenty of money for everything once we go on tour,” Gene said.
“Save your bucks! It would be an honor to be your limo service,” Guy said generously.
“I don’t hate this idea,” said Gene thoughtfully.
“You want us to ride around in a pizza delivery van?” Paul asked dubiously.
“Aw, c’mon, Paulie, it’ll be fun,” said Ace, laughing. 
“We’re gonna smell like pepperoni,” said Peter. 
“What kind of party is this?” Shannon asked suspiciously. “Can Tracy and I come?”
“A vampire party,” Gene said. “And as much as I would love to have you as my date, you know it's not safe for you to be out after dark.”
“I wish you would stay home with me,” Shannon said.
“Lee is going to contribute a significant amount of funding to the tour,” Gene said. “It would be rude of us not to attend his party. He’s also going to be instrumental in helping find other investors.”
“I’ll stay here with you,” John volunteered eagerly.
“Great, you can help clean the kitchen and do the laundry,” Shannon said. “Are you good at getting out bloodstains?”
“Uhh…”
“Wonderful,” said Gene. “Gentlemen, let’s go.”
“And me,” said Tracy. 
“Absolutely not,” said Shannon. “If it's not safe for me to go out, it's not safe for you, either.” 
“I’d keep an eye on her,” said Ace. “So would Paul.”
“I need help with the laundry,” said Shannon.
“Beau can help with the laundry,” Guy volunteered his friend.
“Dude!”
“I would, but I gotta drive them, and this will free up more space in the van.”
“Why are you KISS-blocking me, man?”
“Didn’t I already get you into the greatest KISS concert of your life?” Guy said. 
“Plus we get to hang out with Shannon Tweed!” said John.
“Yeah, doing her laundry.”
“Doing KISS’ laundry,” Guy said. “Didn’t you say you’d do anything for KISS?”
“Laundry wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Beau grumbled, looking at Ace with longing. Ace winked at him and watched him turn red.
“Can we just go already?” asked Peter. 
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dapayeora · 11 months
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below lies tf2 mercs as korean soups
so walk away if you don't wanna see a bunch of korean soup pics
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Scout - Bean sprout soup
Scout's thin and young, like beansprouts.
Ohh look little shrimps are there too.. basically the Scout Soup amirite
You can whip it up in no time, and later when you come back home from the work, you don't even bother to reheat it (which is a very Scout thing to do). It's very commonly eaten cold, even ice cold.
Something that will provide minerals and water after a day of running around under scorching badwater sun. It's like Gatorade but soulful and fibrous (sounds even worse)
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Soldier - Seaweed soup
Koreans got the US ARMY SOUP but hey it'd be too easy if i did that for soldier...
This soup is so thick it's not going to steam when it should be steaming hot cause the steam literally can't escape this thick shit and I think it fits dumb(thick) and temperamental(hot) soldier so well..
I can imagine soldier trying to gulp down this thing and get burns all over
It is called May Saying E Guk (not a standard romanization but it does sound like that) like the VA... Rick May.. ok..?
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Pyro - Soft tofu soup
Hey it's red, spicy, and will be still boiling on your table.
Plus the soft part. The Pyro Soup.
at this point i wanna quit but will just push through
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Demoman - Spicy seafood soup
You know how Demo has a pirate/seaman theme going on, like the Swashbuckler item set, Tide Turner, Loose Cannon, Pirate Bandana and so on?
You could drink endlessly to this soup, eat the soup again for hangover, and start all over again.
This soup often has Styela clava, I can't explain what it is but it's an animal, it's pointy and full of sea water that's gonna explode in your mouth if you bite on it, possibly burning your mouth.
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Heavy - Red bean porridge
Ok this is technically not a soup
Koreans eat this thing in the winter solstice to ward off evil spirits and winter solstices tend to be pretty cold?? like Russia??
Red like communism.
It has hundreds of red beans like heavy shoots hundreds of bullets in a minute (600 rounds/min in-game)
This porridge is often eaten sweet, and Heavy is a very sweet guy to his family and Medic.
Warm & sweet in a cold day sounds very like Heavy
People eat this soup also in North Korea(obviously..?), Japan, China, and Vietnam. Hey wow look 3 other communist countries I've already told you this thing is red
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Engineer - Ox bone broth soup
To make this bone broth soup milky, you want to first soak the bone for several hours while regularly changing the water, and then boil it, remove the first broth, and then boil it again for hours and hours on high heat.
It requires so much patience like playing Engineer does.
You would typically make this soup in a huge pot - and everything is bigger in Texas, I hear.
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Medic - Hangover soup
There are quite a few types of hangover soups in Korean cuisine, and I'm talking about the hangover soup with blood pudding and intestines.
Blood pudding here is basically just clotted blood so I think med's gonna love the idea.
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Sniper - Oden stew
Sorry I can't come up with anything Korean with Sniper so here's a Japanese cuisine
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Spy - Chicken and octopus stew
It's a mystery how korean food offers dishes so fitting for tf2 mercs
This stew has tentacles (Spy) and a chicken (France)
It is called Hae sin tang that means the Sea god soup, and the name's so pretentious I think Spy would love it.
It's not a traditional dish. It was only invented in 2005 so it's pretty new, like how Spy carries weirdly high-tech gadgets like disguise kits and invisibility clocks.
Hey it even disguises as a traditional food so there's also that.
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algumaideia · 2 years
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I don't think being in a relationship with Will is good for Nico's character because of how Rick writes him. It is like that while being with Will, Nico's struggles and way of being will be misinterpreted.
First examples:
"Nico di Angelo.” He studied me, his eyes sharp and colorless, like broken glass. “So it’s true. You’re completely mortal. There’s an aura of death around you—a thick possibility of death.” Meg snorted. “Sounds like a weather forecast.” I did not find this amusing. Being face-to-face with a son of Hades, I recalled the many mortals I had sent to the Underworld with my plague arrows. It had always seemed like good clean fun—meting out richly deserved punishments for wicked deeds. Now, I began to understand the terror in my victims’ eyes. I did not want an aura of death hanging over me. I definitely did not want to stand in judgment before Nico di Angelo’s father. Will put his hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Nico, we need to have another talk about your people skills.” “Hey, I’m just stating the obvious. If this is Apollo, and he dies, we’re all in trouble.”
This was not the first time that Rick implied that Nico lacked social skills and it impacted his relationship with people.
Go ahead, she seemed to be saying. Nico needs practice talking to people.
And while there is nothing wrong with not being good socializing this is simply not accurate to Nico's character. Yes, he is lonely but this has nothing to do with social skills. Nico knows so many people throughout the series. He was sucessfully communicating with the troglodytes, would be in good postion in both camps and in no point he had problem talking to people. Sometimes he was evasive or asnwered angrily to a question, but this wasn't him not knowing how to talk. It was just him not wanting to say certain things about himself.
And the way Nico talked about death is not like him. As I talked in this post, Nico doesn't talk about death just because he is an emo that doesn't know how to act in social situation or to scare people or be mean. When he mentions death, he is often making a warning, letting people know the situations they are in, and to also show concern.
Some examples:
“Dear Grover,” Pan said. “You must accept the truth. Your companion, Nico, he understands.” Nico nodded slowly. “He’s dying. He should have died long ago. This...this is more like a memory.”
"Rachel," Nico said, "your life aura almost faded completely. I could see you dying."
Do you guys realize the difference in tone? How there is kindness in his words? Even other moments, he talks about death with more seriouness then this.
"I wanted to see Daedalus for myself. Minos was right, in a way. Daedalus should die. Nobody should be able to avoid death that long. It’s not natural.”
"Will you take my soul for ransom, then?” Daedalus asked. “You could use it to reclaim your sister.” “No,” Nico said. “I will help you release your spirit. But Bianca has passed. She must stay where she is.”
Daedalus turned toward Nico, who drew his sword. At first I was afraid Nico would kill the old inventor, but he simply said, “Your time is long since come. Be released and rest.” A smile of relief spread across Daedalus’s face.
Even while threatening Kronos he doesn't talk about death in such trivial way like it is nothing or a quirk of his.
"Son of Hades." Kronos spit on the ground. "Do you love death so much you wish to experience it?" "Your death," Nico said, "would be great for me." "I'm immortal, you fool! I have escaped Tartarus. You have no business here, and no chance to live." Nico drew his sword—three feet of wicked sharp Stygian iron, black as a nightmare. "I don't agree."
And, well Rick makes Nico act this way because of his relationship with Will. To make their dynamic work.
Second example:
“Nico,” I said at last, “shouldn’t you be sitting at the Hades table?” He shrugged. “Technically, yes. But if I sit alone at my table, strange things happen. Cracks open in the floor. Zombies crawl out and start roaming around. It’s a mood disorder. I can’t control it. That’s what I told Chiron.” “And is it true?” I asked. Nico smiled thinly. “I have a note from my doctor.” Will raised his hand. “I’m his doctor.” “Chiron decided it wasn’t worth arguing about,” Nico said. “As long as I sit at a table with other people, like...oh, these guys for instance... the zombies stay away. Everybody’s happier.” Will nodded serenely. “It’s the strangest thing. Not that Nico would ever misuse his powers to get what he wants.” “Of course not,” Nico agreed.
This feels like a punch in the stomach after the way Rick wrote the seven treating Nico. Literally minutes after being rescued from the jar he was already being called creepy. And well, then Rick goes and makes it all a joke. He makes Nico transform his situation on a joke.
Nico's loneliness shaped him in a negative way. He suffered greatly because of it. In the end of pjo it seemed that things were getting better, but then Rick decided to make things even worse in hoo. And then he has the courage (I think the best expresssion would be ele tem a cara de pau, but as far as i know there is no truly equivalent expresssion) to joke about it. It is infuriating.
Some examples of Nico suffering from his loneliness, mostly caused by others (he does isolates himself as a consequence of all the rejection he gets):
"Really? That would be a first. I'm the son of Hades, Jason. I might as well be covered in blood or sewage, the way people treat me."
“It hasn't been easy, you know. Having the dead for company. Knowing that I'll never be accepted by the living. Only the dead respects me, and they only do that out of fear.”
“He remembered how nice the kids at Camp Half-Blood had been to him after the war with Kronos. Great job, Nico! Thanks for bringing the armies of the Underworld to save us! Everybody smiled. They all invited him to sit at their table. After about a week, his welcome wore thin. Campers would jump when he walked up behind them. He would emerge from the shadows at the campfire, startle somebody and see the discomfort in their eyes: Are you still here? Why are you here?"
“Nico was devastatingly alone. He’d lost his big sister Bianca. He’d pushed away all other demigods who’d tried to get close to him. His experiences at Camp Half-Blood, in the Labyrinth and in Tartarus had left him scarred, afraid to trust anyone.”
“He carried so much sadness and loneliness, so much heartache"
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outlustings · 2 years
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Nsfw alphabet for my pre!engine Ricky Boy? 😍 i loved Jeremys alphabet...but Rick would be freaking awesome 😍
Again i have to thank you for your incredible work you're doing here! 🥰🥰🥰
(my god sorry guys been going thru a little bit of stuff and haven't posted in almost three weeks yeesh.
my drafts are full of writing but nothing is coming together. like how do i combine angst and walrider sex smoothly and also keep all of my marbles. how.
anyhoo, have a rick alphabet thingy. warnings for dubcon elements, bdsm dynamics, rick being rick, the usual. love you anon.)
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RICHARD TRAGER NSFW ALPHABET (PRE-ENGINE)
Aftercare | Rick likes to cuddle for a while, and then, if he's still awake, he's off to take a shower. Nothing too sappy, but not entirely cold either. He's the kind of man to talk about the pattern on the curtains after sex, with his groggy brain all fuzzy as he tries to stay awake and find something to talk about. Or he might start talking about his day, maybe an upcoming project. Just anything. He loves the sound of his own voice.
Body part | Rick loves a lovely, soft body and all of the statuesque curves he can grind his hips against or smother with needy kisses. Soft skin is all he cares about. He loves his hands, the way his bulging veins thrum with power as he holds a leash or pulls his partner's hair, he loves how well his fingers stretch his lover, how much he gets compliments on his hands.
Cum | Rick loves playing around with his cum, having it all over his partner's chest or face, dipping his fingers into it and making his fucktoy clean his fingers up, all the while he wears a maniacal grin as he drags his fingers on their tongue; "Look up at me, sweets, there you go - that taste good? You want more?" He loves marking his territory.
Dirty secret | Rick will want to fuck his partner in some dingy corner of the asylum, against old rattling medical equipment or an autopsy table, making sure that nobody would intervene through paying off the security guards. It's dangerous, taboo, filthy, and it makes his heart pound like crazy. He would love it.
Experience | He knows what he's doing, he's had some experience, but one wants to have sex for mutual pleasure, they'll have to give him a lecture beforehand. While Rick technically knows the ins and outs of sex, he's the kind of guy to finger you like he's trying to puncture his lover's spleen and then get all mad when they tell him to slow down.
Favorite position | Anything goes, but his favourite is having his partner pinned against the wall and fucking them while standing up. Whether or not it's just doggy with extra steps or some vertical missionary, he loves having sex against a wall, cornering his prey and fucking them against some sturdy support.
Goofy | His behaviour in the moment is definitely a mix of seriousness and on-brand silliness. Lots of jokes, lots of rambling. He doesn't like the silence, and he thinks it's funny to deliver some kind of joke-y little compliment when he's balls deep inside someone. Lots of sarcasm and teasing words, too.
Hair | Rick has thick, luscious hair, courtesy of his Italian heritage, and him pulling his underwear down will no doubt make his lover blurt out the old trusty: "Wow, Bush is back in office, huh?" (He will definitely have to spank his lover after that kind of an obscene comment. Tsk tsk.) Rick doesn't do a whole lot of trimming, he prefers the natural look on both himself and on his partner.
Intimacy | Rick hates "being romantic", but he can't change the way his eyes glint when he looks at his squirming partner, the way his expression softens as they tear up, the way he needs to press soft, sloppy kisses to their flushed cheeks as he slows down his thrusts in missionary, rubbing his partner's trembling leg up and down, shushing them, purring praises. Nope, totally not romantic at all.
Jack off | Rick doesn't masturbate a whole lot. If he wants to cum, he'll find someone to cum on. It's really that simple (to him). Even iff his partner teases him with nudes or dirty sexts, he'll cross his legs, will his throbbing boner away and wait until they get home and then he'll attack and punish them for trying to make him act up.
Kink | Voyeurism and slight exhibitionism. Suspension and other kinds of rope bondage, restraints of all kind, general sadomasochism. Forced orgasms. Doctor and nurse roleplay (duh). Surgery play, medical play, the likes. Cumplay. Abduction play. Cockwarming. The usual.
Location | Rick likes to fuck at work. I'm sorry, he does. But a bed is always a good alternative. Also, maybe a little date night at one of those kink mansions with weird torture and mirror rooms that you can book for a couple of hours - maybe something to spice up a boring old Thursday or something.
Motivation | Arguments and bickering gets him going. It's weird, but he loves fighting, loves to watch the struggle in his lover's eyes as he dives between their legs while they're still supposed to be mad at him. He also hates making out and cuddling because it makes him achingly hard and now he has to deal with the shame of lovey-dovey stuff making him aroused.
No | Rick is a kinky fuck. I don't think there's anything he would not try at least once. (And once we get to those post-engine preferences of his - oh, boy. That's going to be awful.)
Oral | Rick likes giving oral. He's definitely into making his partner squirm and cry out as they grind against his face. His face is his lover's throne. He loves it as much as he loves to give a good throatfuck after a long day, with him thrusting into his partner's mouth, hissing profanities and cooing about how good of a job they're doing. He loves oral. All of it.
Pace | Slow. Torturously slow. Rick is very meticulous and makes sure to leave his partner begging for more, for him to just get on with it as he savours every inch of his lover's body. He loves to take it slow, only descending into rough, animalistic fucking just as he's about to cum, and no sooner than that. Sometimes, when he's in a mood, or otherwise frustrated, he'll try to be slow, but can't - that's when he gets rough, slamming into his fucktoy with bruising force, only caring about his own pleasure.
Quickie | Rick likes quickies, but doesn't prefer them over slow sex. It's a nice stress relief every now and then, and he adores bending his partner over his desk and fucking them silly - then just nudging them to go on with their work day. Quickies are reserved for when he's feeling less patient than usual or when he's in a mood. Rough, heated hate-fucking is one of his favourites.
Risk | Rick likes a lot of risky stuff in the sense that his kinks can cause awkward ER trips, but he also is into more vague risks. If his partner is able to get pregnant, they should get ready for Rick toying around with the thrill of a little accident. Especially with a little bit of a CNC/begging element to it all. Makes him go wild.
Stamina | While Rick likes to take it all slow and go on fucking for hours, his refractory period is super long. He'll be knocked out as soon as he cums, so his lover should get ready for one, long, sloppy session a night and then sweaty cuddles.
Toys | Rick likes to use toys on his partner, making them cum until they cry is what he's into, but he doesn't own too many toys himself. Maybe a modest cockring, things like that.
Unfair | Rick is extremely unfair, with hours of edging and lots of teasing, ruined orgasms and the like. He loves to see his partner squirm, loves to make them cry in desperation as he holds all of the power over them. He loves to tease, loves to give his partner permission to cum, grins like a madman when his fucktoy finally gets to release around his cock, milking him.
Volume | Rick is actually pretty vocal, lots of grunting and moaning on his part, he's loud. Little noises resonating in the back of his throat as he bucks his hips up into his lover's mouth, curse words spilling from his lips as he laughs and groans as he chases his pleasure.
Wild card | Rick wants to get pegged. He won't admit it easily, but the very thought of it makes him painfully hard.
X-ray | He has a long cock, with a thick head that feels awfully good when he pushes it in slowly. Almost 8 inches when full and throbbing. Slightly curved, with sensitive veins running along the shaft. Uncut.
Yearning | Rick is a horny bastard. Always. He's always ready to go, always yearning for his partner, always looking for the next opportunity to get his dick wet. His sex drive is very high.
Zzz | He's the kind of guy to bust a nut and, like I mentioned before, get knocked out pretty much immediately. He's very groggy after having orgasmed, all sleepy and mumbly, his energy drained. Kind of adorable. Especially when he dozes off and starts to snore.
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etes-secrecy-post · 4 months
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Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.
• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.
⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️
⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️
• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.
⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️
😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡
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Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓
#Onthisday: Nov 28th, 2017
Title: Cuteness Member - Brainy
This is Morgan's OC Brainy 🐰 with his first "Cuteness Mecha Armor" from the Mobile Suit Variations / M.S.V., the armored "GM Cannon", an artillery type variation of the original RGM-79 GM. 😁🤖
GM Cannon BrainyCame from the real: RGC-80 GM Cannon [CLICK ME!]
Armament(s):
240mm Cannon • Mounted over the right shoulder, the cannon is clip fed, with a spare clip mounted on the rear waist armor.
60mm Vulcan Gun • A standard armament of the armor suits that are descended from the Earth Federation.These head mounted shell firing weapons have a high-rate of fire, but little power and are generally ineffective against armor suits; however, the vulcan gun can damage lightly armored areas such as the sensors. These weapons are ideal for shooting down small, lightly armored targets such as missiles or small vehicles.
BR-M-79C-1 Beam Spray Gun • The Beam Spray Gun was essentially the Gundam's beam rifle in a smaller weaker form. The beam spray gun has a smaller focusing coil which results in a less powerful, and a more scattered shot. As a result of this the beam spray gun is less effective at long range, but is better at close range due to a more spread out shot, similar to a shotgun effect. While the beam spray gun is less powerful than the beam rifle, it has been shown to be able to penetrate the armor of a Rick Dom - one of the most heavily armored suits.
NF GMG-Type.37/100mm Machine Gun • The standard armament for Federation armor suit ground forces, the Type 37 is an open-bolt, gas-operated, magazine-fed, armor suit handheld machine gun. It fires a 100×450 millimeter round at a rate of 500 rounds per minute and is loaded with a 20-round box magazine. Features include a folding stock and swivel forward hand grip. Maximum effective range of 1.5 kilometers.
BLASH HB-L-03/N-STD Hyper Bazooka • Technically a large rocket launcher it could fire several 380mm missiles to attack targets at long range. No mass-production armor is able to stop this weapon. While very powerful, it has a slow rate of fire and a fairly little amount of ammunition. Often used to take out slow, heavily armored targets.
BOWA·BR-S-85-C2 Beam Rifle • The standard ranged armament of the many armor suits is the beam rifle. The particle beam fired from a beam rifle can penetrate almost any armor that has not been treated with specific counter-measures. The beam rifle has a power rating of 1.9 MW and is powered by a rechargeable energy cap.
FADEGEL RGM-M-Sh-003 Shield • A basic arm-mounted defense armament for many Federation suits. The shield is a thick sheet of armor designed to take severe punishment that would normally destroy a armor suit. Since the introduction of beam weaponry, shields have been treated with an anti-beam coating allowing it to withstand several beam shots before the coating wears off. Typically physical shields can only take so much damage before they succumb to the pressure and break. A shield can be equipped to either arm of the GM Cannon in order to increase defense against both beam and physical attacks.
RGM*S-Sh-WF/S-00109 Shield • The GM Cannon is also capable of mounting on either of its forearms a smaller RGM*S-Sh-WF/S-00109 Shield. It is capable of deflecting most incoming ballistic projectiles and some explosive warheads. Mount latch and joint/pivot mount position retracted for protection or extended for slashing or punching attacks. Can be thrust into the ground and used as an elevated weapon firing position. Features include top carrying handle and shield claw.
Brainy (HTF OC) - owned by Morgan Millington Armor (Mobile Suit Gundam, Mobile Suit Variations/MSV) - Gundam Series © Bandai Namco Filmworks, Inc. (SUNRISE), Sotsu
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brimbrimbrimbrim · 2 years
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UMMM yes to Eddie The Queen of Swords he has captured my heart I am sooo excited for the next chapter hehehe
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Thank you, Anon! I just dropped Ch. 3 moments ago. Hope you like it. <3
Eddie's not sure what the protocol for breakfast is around here, but judging by his digital wristwatch, he's been up since four-thirty, and his stomach's been rumbling longer than that… probably since he drained the dragon before passing out in his new row boat bed. He's already climbed up everything climbable inside the boathouse—jumped off all the ledges and used the latches under the ceiling like monkey bars. Anything to keep his mind and body occupied while the sun rises. 
By the time he starts getting jittery again, the birds begin chirping. 
He takes a peek outside, bent down at the knees to avoid anyone lurking in the shrubbery. Looks peaceful enough… almost like all the crazy shit last night never went down, but it did. Once he locks his knee, fist around the door handle, the anxiety and paranoia kick in pretty fast. He gives the blue, pale-morning lake behind him a once over, then rekindles the joint from before. The erratic buzz of adrenaline falls to the welcome blanket of an excellent high as he gives himself a few more minutes of alone time…
Technically, he's not sure what he's waiting for, but something tells him the fair maiden's not gonna like him banging on her door at six in the morning just cause he's hungry. Eddie's gone longer without food, a lot longer when there wasn't an option, but… maybe she's an early bird—maybe she's not pissed anymore.
Eddie checks the driveway and edge of the forest one more time. One more hit off the spliff before he quietly kicks the boathouse door open and crouch-walks around back with the empty lake spooning him.
A couple squirrels skitter noisily up a drunken tree. Several birds squawk and fly off, but nothing else notices him.
Eddie hikes up the wooden steps and shoves his forehead against the back door panes, peering into an empty kitchen and part of a deserted living room, and then—as if his midnight conjuration spell triggers—Rick's half-naked daughter walks into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of one eye.
Oh, shit. Oh… shit…
Eddie freezes.
She's in a pair of pink underwear and a tattered gray shirt—the hem slashed up so far he can see the soft indent of her navel. There's a band name on it he's never heard of, but he's not focused on obscure heavy metal right now. Instead, his eyes dip down to her thick thighs, back to that cute tummy, and—she turns to grab a bowl from the cabinet— that fucking ass! 
Psionic rocker chicks have butts that hypnotize…
She's a fucking wet dream that totally doesn't see him standing there by the back door. 
Eddie curls his fingers inside his palms and watches while she pours herself some honeycomb cereal, half-blindly stumbling to the fridge for a carton of milk until— finally —mid-pour, she notices him.
"Jesus FUCKING shit?!"
Check out the rest of the Chapter HERE!
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electrofried · 1 year
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Eddie’s Reeboks, a very expensive shoe, always cause him to slip and slide all the place. That’s ok, technically they aren’t really his.
He thinks of them more like loot. Or spoils of war. Or a calling card.
You see, when you’re the only dealer in town(apologies to Rick, see you when you get out buddy), you can name your price. And if the person asking, happens to be some smart mouthed, uppity jock in a varsity jacket, wearing brand new shoes, and who thinks he can just buy Eddie’s time and full supply while talking shit?
Suddenly, this lunchbox is filled with premium imported goods from the coast. And this jock’s pocket change isn’t going to cut it.
And suddenly, Eddie’s got a brand new pair of sneakers.
What’s even more satisfying, even more than rubbing it in their faces every time he struts across the lunchroom table, is watching the guy have to hoof it back to school, through the mud and foliage, in his thick, wooly socks.
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andy-clutterbuck · 3 years
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babblydrabbly · 3 years
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Wanna Be Yours (Rick Flag x Reader)
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[Gif]
Pairing(s): Rick Flag x F!Reader
Anonymous Asked: no thoughts just rick flag and the reader grinding on each other at the club in the middle of the dance floor🤤 (this kind of counts as a request😭 take your time though babe no rush at all💕)
Anonymous Asked: Okay but what about a sequel to the supply closet fic where the two have to actually talk about what is going on between them? 🥺 Characters: Rick Flag, Harley Quinn, Blackguard, Boomerang, Mentions of Amanda Waller, Catwoman, and major Harley Quinn!Friendship because always. Rating: M+ Word Count: 5k Warning(s): Language, violence, kissing, grinding, groping.
A/N: More angsty than smutty, but still inspired by a Spotify playlist titled 'pov: you horny 24/7'. Unofficial sequel to my fics Storeroom Talk and Edging Toward Something (Rick Flag x reader). Slight jealous!Rick Flag. Happy ending!
You're getting the hang of the squad, but being around Rick feels like it might be getting too complicated. Harley suspects something going on between the two of you; She takes it upon herself to intervene— For both her friends' sakes. Your next mission seems like the perfect time for it. Set before The Suicide Squad (2021).
---
Fucking Quinn.
No wonder they never let her out into gen pop. She was a menace. Your current mission was leaving you exhausted from her constant prodding; You were a little envious at how she could be so off topic and yet still stay so alive. From traditional gunfire to mutant monsters threatening to suck the skin off your bodies, Harley’s maniacal energy never faded when on a suicide mission.
“Are you into kitty, [L/n]?” She threw out casually. She asked you as you were pressing a small block of C4 into the bank of network servers in front of you. You huffed beneath your mask, the thick material obscuring your expression. You didn't know how or when, but her mask was a mess of glitter and pink acrylic paint, a happy face grinning back at you. "Follow up question: I specifically mean would you be into mine?"
“You’re incorrigible.” You muttered, finishing up the tasks at hand.
Harley shrugged, “Thought I'd take a swing. I don't know about you, but I ain't exactly getting much in isolation.”
You shook your head. “We don’t have time—.”
“Yeah yeah, mission first. I get it. This is what I’m talkin’ about! For a job we ain’t gettin’ paid for you're workin’ too hard, [L/n].”
You stood up. “First of all, we are technically getting paid in time served off. Second of all, I meant we don’t have time to fuck before this place blows. As in, right now.”
Harley, delighted at the prospect, waggled her dark eyebrows as you threw your utility pack back on. The two of you booked it out of the large room; You threw an arm up to shield your eyes as she used her baseball bat to nail a few more servers on your way out. Her laughter echoed off the cold walls.
“What about Boomer? He ain’t the cleanest, sure.” Harley continued as you pummeled the area’s security personnel. You tossed a live grenade at her, and she hit a proverbial home run, blasting the doors to your getaway right off their hinges.
“I thought we were talking about us?”
You leapt into the driver's seat of an abandoned jeep, the driver already yanked out and dead on the floor of the loading dock. In your ear, the comms were bustling with instructions and commands from all over the Task Force's different teams. Harley hopped in beside you.
"I'm just sayin'." She continued. "If we're not on the next one together, you gotta expand your options."
You scrunched your nose, putting the car into drive. "I don't know about Boomerang."
In the rear view, you saw a man pop up. Face bloody, a scream ripped from his already shredded throat. You shifted into reverse, and Harley braced her hands on the dash gleefully as you rammed the henchman, pinning him to the cement dock.
"Besides— I. I'm good, I think." You added quietly to yourself. Even as you drove out of there, from the corner of your eye, you saw Harley glance over at you minutely.
You were a few things— An ex-thief, a quick learner— But a good liar was not one of them. There were times when Harley Quinn had noted your absence during missions. Convenient times, when you weren't needed— She also noted that they coincided with the uncharacteristic disappearances of one Colonel Rick Flag.
It was always such good luck when the two of you turned out to be alive, but a little late to the party.
"Good, huh?" She smiled devilishly. You stepped on the gas. Harley turned around as the explosion behind you lit up the night sky, the flames illuminating her dazzled face— Like she was watching fireworks on the Fourth of July.
---
As it turned out, your next mission did involve Harley again. The two of you hurried as the others waited outside the surveillance van. You were changing into clothes that blended in more with where you were headed.
Harley slipped a gaudy sequin dress over herself, her hair pinned up in a high, loose bun, freshly dyed. She had already applied her make up, a purple smoky look painted around her eyes to match her dark lipstick. A pair of dice earrings dangled from her ears.
You'd chosen a black dress— A bodycon one with thin straps. You put on a pair of sheer black stockings to make yourself feel less exposed. There wasn't much of a selection in the large canvas bag Quinn had brought for the mission. For make up, you had put on some eyeliner and gloss. It had been so long since you used anything on your face— The cheap make up you could barter for at Belle Reve always made you break out.
"Hey, check out your girls!" Harley quipped. She cupped her own, nodding to your chest enthusiastically. You reddened. Smoothing down your dress and tucking your hair behind your eyes, you shot her a small smile back.
"We look fuckin' phenomenal." Harley patted you on the back, ready to go. She kicked open the doors to the van, nearly hitting Rick Flag in the process.
You did your best not to sneak glances at him while all the others were around. You felt as everyone ogled you and Harley. She bowed playfully at Harkness as he whistled. He wore a terrible Hawaiian shirt— Almost as colorful as Harley's dress— Tucked into a pair of black slacks. He even bothered to shave. Their outfits combined made you crack up. At least this operation's team line-up didn't make you feel uncomfortable.
"You good?" Rick muttered beside you. You greeted him with a brief nod, and he handed you a knife to slip into your high heeled boot.
He was in Colonel mode— Listing off updates to Waller back at base and instructing everyone to get moving. You were a few blocks from a prominent nightclub; Inside, the target would be arriving later in the night.
Learning about the plan had made you nervous. The Suicide Squad was all about covert operations— Of getting in and getting out as soon as possible. You were getting used to the speed of it, of the urgency and adrenaline. This was not going to be that kind of mission.
"A what?"
"A honeypot." Harley had described back in the van. "I thought you were all about this kinda shit!"
"I'm not Catwoman," You whispered, embarrassed. "I don't disarm people with charm. I hardly had to deal with people at all, to be honest."
Catwoman was one of your idols, but your shtick was not even close to hers. When Waller gave you all the plans for tonight, you had begun to sweat— And you weren't even going to be doing the bulk of the work.
You were going to be eyes and ears on the dance floor; You'd cover the bottom floor with Blackguard, while Flag kept a look out on the upper balconies. The real show stopper was Harley, who was going to be dancing with Boomer, waiting to get the target's attention. All the other members would be waiting outside, ready to gun down anyone working for the target that tried to intervene.
Which is how you ended up in the middle of a crowded club, bodies pressing and dancing to the beat around you. It was a far cry from dismantling meta human biker gangs and blowing up warehouses.
You cradled an overpriced cocktail and pretended to dance. You kept yourself moving, avoiding anyone that tried to saddle up to you. From your vantage point, you could see Rick upstairs. He wasn't exactly a sore thumb— He just looked so odd in a pair of jeans and a plain dress shirt. He moved around unhurried, the long neck of a beer bottle in his grip. You knew that under his belt he was sporting at least one firearm. A few feet away, Blackguard had several concealed as well.
"I've got eyes on the target." Blackguard announced. "He's headed for his booth." You waited a beat before catching a glimpse as an entourage of people entered the closed off lounge at the base of the stage. The leader took a seat, the rest of his group following suit.
"Oh shit." Harley's voice pierced the comms. It had been nearly an hour, and you had just gotten acclimated to the mission at hand. You glanced up in her direction through the throng of people, concerned.
"What?" Flag replied.
"I know that guy." She hissed. "One of the bodyguards. I kinda— Set his car on fire before."
"Shit. Waller— Quinn's about to get made."
You felt your heart race. This was all way too much espinonage for you.
After a beat: "Change of plan." Waller announced over your earpieces. "[L/n] is switching with Quinn."
You nearly choked, "Me?"
"Her?" Flag had agreed with your disbelief, and sternly. His brows furrowed. "Waller, with all due respect—"
"[L/n] is our back up." And you cursed, knowing that Waller had a back up plan for everything. This was happening. "[L/n], you're moving forward with Harkness. You're up."
Fuck.
"Erh, actually boss." Boomer piped up, "I think I know that dickhead too."
Dead silence fell over the comms, and you had a feeling Waller was throwing her walkie talkie across the room.
"Flag." Came her composed response.
"On it."
Anxiously, you watched Boomerang and Harley make their way off the dance floor, leaving you alone. Blackguard moved to the sidelines, heading up to switch with Flag. You were floating, completely lost. Without much else to lose you knocked back the last of your watered down drink, quickly tossing it onto a passing server's tray.
You started when Rick appeared behind you, his hand slipping around your waist.
"You're alright." Rick murmured assuringly. You moved to turn around, but Rick kept you in place gently. "Just dance."
Mind racing, you tried to start moving to the music as best as you could. The speakers pumped out a booming house song, and the rhythm vibrated inside you at a quick pace.
You gasped when Flag fitted his body flush against your back. His other hand moved up to cup your side, framing you as the two of you began to dance together.
The goal— Harley and Boomer's goal— Was to attract the target's attention. To make him think that what he was seeing, was a couple seducing him in the crowd. ARGUS wanted something he had, tonight, and Waller's team had learned that he had a pension for, well— Threesomes with strangers.
You had to convince this total stranger that you and Rick were a couple. A very open couple. You felt a heat rise in your cheeks as Rick leaned down and buried his face in your neck. Jesus, he was wearing cologne. You inhaled, nuzzling the side of your face against his hair. Reaching up, you hooked your fingers behind his head.
Then, you felt it— Rick dragging you back, his grasp making your lower body connect with his hips. Rick rocked into you, grinding with the rhythm filling the room. His hand slipped down over the front of your dress, cupping it around your inner thigh through the fabric. You gulped, letting your eyes slip closed as you tried to act natural. As if this was the most natural thing in the world for you.
Well, it wasn't totally unfamiliar. You shivered as Rick planted a wet kiss over your jugular vein. Your reaction was muscle memory at this point, a small moan leaving your throat. You tangled your fingers through the Colonel's hair, tugging it reflexively. It earned you a growl.
Rick span you around, his grip returning to your waist. He planted his hips flush against yours again, looking at you squarely in the eyes. Your heart stuttered at his expression, the want written on his face. He lifted a hand to cup your jaw, leaned down and went to work kissing your neck once more.
"Make eye contact with him." Rick instructed brusquely into your skin. And you were hypnotized, your gaze drifting over to the base of the stage. To your concealed shock, the target was already looking at you. You fluttered your eyes shut hurriedly again— Turned yourself until you were pressing back against Rick's warm body.
You were warm. Heating up. Your hands clamored to find purchase against Rick. Tried to find a position that felt natural. Then he was taking your wrists, looping them over his head so that your hands may hook around his neck. Rick was looking down at you hungrily again, his lips parted, his hips still grinding against yours. His eyes flickered down to your glossy mouth.
You surged up to kiss him. Rick met you halfway, your teeth nearly clattering together. He captured your lips with his, the familiar slot of them making you dizzy. You let go then— Let your mind stop fretting over what felt or looked natural. You felt Rick Flag's real hunger, and your full intention of letting it devour you.
Rick lifted a hand, letting it come down on your ass with a sound slap. You gasped his name, felt him smile against your collarbone— You flushed, grinning into his hair. Bastard.
"Target's sending someone." Blackguard's voice in your ear nearly made you jump out of your dress. Rick instinctively put a hand on your neck, and you were thankful that it kept you from looking over at the target. He captured your lips again— Took your mind off the thoughts racing through your head.
When you felt a hand tap your shoulder, Rick broke the kiss, glaring daggers at the bodyguard who was now asking you to join the target's party in the VIP area. Rick pretended to look suspicious, his arms wrapping around you.
"What for?" He scowled. He planted a possessive stance between you and the guard.
"My boss would like to have a drink with the two of you."
The rest of the mission was a blur. You did your best to sit beside Rick as you would with a partner. You crossed one leg over the other toward him, your heel rubbing against Rick's shin as you pressed into his side. You held his hand— And he held yours. You both listened to the conversation over the music, sipping at drinks offered by your host.
Rick's arm was wedged behind you, curled around you still. He drew light circles at your hip with the pad of his thumb, and you tried your best to ignore the way it made your panties slick.
And people were looking at you— The two of you. You had never touched Rick like this when anyone was watching. And he was doing it so casually, like the two of you were a real item. You glanced up at him as he spoke to the target; Was this what Rick was like with a real partner?
No, you shook yourself from the thought, tried to focus.
Even if it was how Rick did things— It wasn't really for you— It was all about the mission. You listened to Rick coax the target's interest in the two of you: We, we, we.
There was no we. Not while you were just a Belle Reve asset and Rick was your team leader. All of this— The people in their seats around you thinking you were together. None of it was real. The thought sobered you up quickly.
Adjusting in your seat and catching the target's attention, you flashed him your best alluring smile. "Could the three of us talk somewhere... else maybe?"
There's a third floor to the building— The target's private offices. He led Rick and yourself back through several doors, telling his bodyguard to wait outside. In the office, there's a back room, and your eyes widened to see what mimicked a bedroom suite. The floor to ceiling windows leaned over the dance floors of the club. It was all very... Exhibitionist.
"Don't worry." The target said, leering at your expression. "They're mirrored on the other side. Unless... you'd rather have an audience. I could turn on the lights."
You felt Rick's grip tighten around your waist. But his tone remained even. "How's about another drink." He suggested.
The target grinned. Making his way over to the wet bar across the room, he began listing off some expensive labels to pour.
You jumped when Rick grabbed a metallic vase off the bookshelf beside him, knocking the target over the head in a flash. He slumped to the floor in a piled heap. Rick dropped the vase, his hand going to his ear.
"We're in the room." He informed. But in your own ear piece, the signal was weak— You winced as all that came back was high-pitched static. "Must have a signal jammer 'round here."
Just as you began to ask where you should start looking for the target's safe, Rick was crossing the room, scooping your legs up in his muscular arms with ease. Like you weighed nothing, he wrapped your legs around his waist, and your back hit the wall behind you, almost knocking your breath away. You gasped when he pressed a bruising kiss to your lips, moaning as he drew your bottom lip between his teeth and bit down softly. You could still taste the candied gloss that had transferred from your mouth to his.
"Christ," Rick uttered, looking you over. "You look fuckin' incredible."
You felt the hard press of his arousal through his jeans, the fabric straining close between your legs. The familiar coil of heat in your stomach was growing, along with the slickness further down that began back on the dance floor. You canted your hips down, running your hands up his chest.
You wanted to fuck Rick Flag so terribly, so badly. The look in his eyes told you the same.
But the feeling of sitting beside him, foreign and off, still clawed at you. Rick only needed a moment to see that you were hesitating, and backed off. Setting your feet back down on the floor, his brows furrowed. He grasped your sides carefully.
"What's wrong?"
You opened your mouth but nothing came out. Then: "Maybe we should... Focus on finding the safe."
Rick stared at you.
"I'll crack it. —My specialty, right?" You deflected. You were supposed to walk Harley through it on the comms when she and Boomer made their way up here. You smiled at Rick, tried to assure him that you were capable even though you felt like a fish out of water all night.
The two of you tore the room apart, finally finding the safe beneath the large tile floors of the target's bathroom. Rick watched your back as you worked your magic, getting into the safe in less than a few minutes; It felt good to do what you were born to do again. You removed a padded envelope containing a flash drive and hard documents.
When the firefight broke out as the two of you exited, you weren't surprised to see that Harley had taken manners into her own hands when your signals cut out— Patrons scattered as the rest of the team infiltrated the club, wiping out half of the target's entire gang.
You followed Flag through the chaos, the envelope in your grip. Rick withdrew a gun from his waistband as he cleared a path for the two of you two exit.
You shoved opened an unnoticed emergency door, the cold night air hitting your flushed skin. He followed you, finally lowering the gun when the coast was clear. In the distance, you could hear more gunfire— The others must have been drawing them away on the other side of the building.
In the open street, your comms came back online. You heard the coordinated chatter burst to life in your ear, your hand flying up to let everyone know you were out.
"Wait," Rick reached out, gestured for you to stop. You paused, wary.
"You sure you're alright?" He approached you slowly, stopping before you.
You nodded, catching your breath. "I'm not hurt."
"Y'know that's not what I mean."
The two of you let it hang there— The thing you didn't talk about. Not in alleyways or storage rooms— And certainly not in the empty space between just the two of you, in the dark— the only time Rick was ever really yours. If you could even say that.
You steeled yourself and offered him the envelope. "I'm fine."
Rick glanced down at the files, frowning at your shaking hand. Lifting his own, he brushed the envelope away and stepped closer to you. Rick reached up, cupping your face in both of his calloused palms.
Without a word Rick kissed you. You pursed your lips, unable to open yourself but also unable to resist Rick Flag.
When he pulled away you both wore the same expressions— Your brows pinched, your eyes searching each other. You couldn't tell if he was being Rick, or Colonel Flag.
"Where the fuck are you guys!" Blackguard's voice startled you out of Rick's hold. You turned your back to him so that you wouldn't have to look at his face for a moment.
"We're clear— We're out." You announced, your voice feeling far away.
When you dared to glance back at Rick, you saw that he'd given you some space. You swallowed dryly.
"You know," You began, and his head swiftly turned to give you his full attention. "This is... If Waller wants me for two more missions.... That'll be it. I'll be done."
It shouldn't have been hard, sounding happy about it. If you lived through two more missions, your time at Belle Reve would be over. You'd be free.
The reality of it doesn't seem to phase Rick, who can tell there's more you want to say.
On the one hand, you wanted nothing more than to finish what you started back inside. But on the other, you couldn't deny that it was getting difficult to ignore the fact that your dynamic wasn't— It wasn't enough for you anymore. And there was no way on Earth it could change now, given your position and his. Part of you wondered what would be the difference in ending it now, versus ending it two more opportunities from now.
If you lived, that was.
"[Y/n]." Rick finally spoke. "We're never doin' anything you don't want to do, right." He assured you, but it comes out like a question, like he isn't so sure that's how he's been making you feel. It made his stomach drop, the way you were standing there— The idea that you might not really want this.
You shook your head, closing the space between you. "Are you joking?" You wrapped your arms around his middle, too tired to care if anyone was watching. "All I ever think about is what I want to do with you." You confessed, smiling softly. It was all you ever craved when you were stuck in your cell, waiting around for Task Force X to come calling. Dreaming about being free was too hard when your sentence was more than twenty years long; At least when you imagined yourself with Rick, you could look forward to it happening out in the field once in awhile.
You felt a hand brush your hair out of your face. Rick was looking down at you.
"We're going to talk about this later." He said, and then he was kissing you again. You gripped his hands in yours, tugging them close to your chest as you savored him there, beneath the light of the street lamp above you.
---
The squad met up at the vans again. You approached Harley, your heels killing you from hustling back from across the city. She had already taken off her own shoes, swinging her bruised bare legs as she sat on the back bumper of the van.
"How'd it go, sweetums?" She greeted.
"Got the drive. Mission accomplished." When you reached up for a high five, she smacked you in the rib.
"How'd it go with Flag?" She said knowingly. And you paled, glancing around to make sure Rick was occupied with the other members. You glowered at her.
"Did you even know that bodyguard? Did Boomer?"
She grinned widely, proud of her own little scheme.
"Harley, I could have blown this whole mission!" You hissed, batting her shoulder as much as you'd dare to slap at Harley Quinn. "Waller might blow your head off just for lying."
She batted back at you before locking you out with an arm around the shoulders. "Like I said, life's short 'n all. At least you got to climb the Flag Pole tonight, huh?"
You cringed, offering her an awkward look. Harley blinked, gaping at you.
"You two didn't even FUCK?!"
"Shh—! Ow!" You cried. "That was my tit, Harley!"
She cut her laughter short, standing up when she glanced at something over your shoulder. Arching a brow at you, she suddenly had to leave and go bug Harkness.
"[Y/n]," Rick replaced Harley in your line of sight. You busied yourself with slipping your jacket on over your dress. He said your name again, leaning against the open van door.
"Shouldn't you be giving orders?" You nodded over at the others. Rick folded his arms over his broad chest, his arms pulling at the thin cotton fabric of his dress shirt. He'd caught a bullet— Just barely— across his bicep, a faint trickle of blood already dry on the torn, white material.
"I said we were gonna talk."
"Here?"
Rick hoisted himself up into the van and offered you a hand. You took it and the both of you closed the doors, sealing yourselves inside.
"We're layin' low until Waller gives us another clear. Thirty minutes maybe."
Ah— A window. Normally the kind that would have you ripping that damn shirt off of him. You took a seat on one of the benches inside. Further into the van, the whir and beeps of surveillance equipment still running kept the silence from consuming you.
Rick sat across from you, your knees brushing in the cramped space.
"Y'know I don't give a shit, right?" He began.
"We don't have to have a heart to heart, Flag."
He leaned forward, placing his hands on your knees. The warm contact makes you feel comforted and anxious all at once.
"Maybe we should." He continued, "You were right; You're done in a few missions. You'll be walking out of there free soon."
You snorted. "Yeah, as a felon."
Rick didn't find the humor, his lips drawn in a deep frown. "Y'think I haven't done shit I'm not proud of?"
You turned your eyes back down.
"[Y/n]."
"What? What are you saying? What are we talking about?" You snapped. He caught your nervous hands as you gestured between yourself and Rick. He cradled them, scooting forward until he was on the edge of his seat, his legs bracketing yours now.
"I'm talkin' about us not having to sneak around in the dark anymore." He declared. "'Bout not havin' to worry about that bomb in your damn neck."
Hope swelled inside you, but caution kept your lips pressed tightly together.
"We don't have to figure anything out now. I just wanna know we're okay. While we're both still alive and kickin', [Y/n]."
After the adrenaline subsided, after the missions were done— You always grounded yourself in the reality that you'd only been lucky. With Rick, with the task force. It wasn't nicknamed the Suicide Squad for nothing. You were coerced into this job via Waller's leverage. But Flag? Rick was the real volunteer. If anyone was crazy for doing this, it was him. You'd joked before that the hooking up was just a bonus— His addiction was to danger. In a way, kissing him for the first time wasn't such a different weakness for you.
"Okay." You murmured back.
"Alright." He waited for you to pull away. When you didn't, Rick lifted one of your wrists to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. After a moment he did it again, and you felt the hot part of his lips— The stoke of fire inside you as he ran the tip of his tongue over your pulse, kissing you there.
You drew in a sharp intake of breath, quirking a brow down at him. Eventually, you shot him a look through your long lashes,
"...Still got about twenty minutes..." You trailed off. His free hand slinked up your stockinged knee, his fingers curling around your thigh.
"Fuck if I don't wanna fuck you on this floor right now," He rumbled back.
You hooked your legs over his lap as he scooped you up, his arms bringing you against his chest. You straddled him, your lips connecting in a heated kiss. True to his word, Rick carried you down to the empty metal floor of the van, and you removed yourself from the sleeves of your coat to lay your back down on it. You gasped at the sound of sheer fabric ripping.
"You weren't keeping' these, were you?" Rick said, flashing you a wicked smirk. He tugged the rest of your ruined stockings off, tossing them to the side.
You rolled your eyes, "— Now I owe Harley new pantyhose."
"Might owe her a new dress too."
You moaned an 'oh' as Rick shoved the hem of your dress up your thighs, your tight black panties coming down next. You gazed up at the sight of Rick balling them up and slipping them into his pocket. Reaching up for his collar you yanked him back down to you, your legs wrapping around his waist tightly again. Rick immediately went to work kissing the thin straps of your dress off your shoulders.
"Go away, Harley Quinn." You called over Rick's back. The telling cackle that hurried away made the two of you grin.
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Text
His Girl (Reader x Clyde Logan)
You're excited to go on another date with Clyde but you are anxious about not knowing where you stand with him. When you arrive at the bar you see something that confirms your worst fears.
Note: This is a part 3 for the Safe & Sound series I wrote for @ladyinwriting18 ….. Enjoy! 🥰
Warnings: Angst/Comfort
Words: 2,630
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You snuffled and whined softly as you woke up, gentle sunlight cut the room and you snuggled into your warm covers. You felt him, flesh hand tight against your stomach pulling you into him and you smiled. Another morning waking up with Clyde.
You rolled over in his arms, opened your eyes to peek up at his sweet sleeping face. He always looked so peaceful right before he woke up; you placed a gentle kiss to his chest before trying to gently shuffle back out of bed without waking him. He stirred slightly, strong arm crushing around your waist forcing a giggle out of you.
“I know what that kiss means” he mumbled groggily, eyes still tightly shut.
You laughed and kissed his cheek this time “I have to go to work” you whispered, placing kisses down his cheek to his neck. You inhaled deeply, the comfy smell of sleep hung around him and remnants of his intoxicating cologne made you second guess getting out of bed. You closed your eyes for just a second before sucking lightly on his earlobe. “See now that’s all the more reason for you to stay in bed” he grumbled, hugging you closer so you were basically on top of him.
You wriggled, giggling like a child, and freed yourself from his grasp whilst he grumbled away to himself, still half asleep. You got up and walked around the bed, leaning over him with the t-shirt you’d borrowed hanging forward, before placing a kiss to his forehead and smoothing his wild hair back out of his face. You couldn’t help but take a second to admire the slightly ridiculous image of this big bear of a man wrapped up tightly in your flowery bedsheets, ruffled dark hair contrasted against the bright white pillows. You smiled to yourself, heart beating just a little bit harder.
“I’ll see you tonight” you whispered.
You arrived at the bar a little earlier than you had said you would, the excitement for dinner with Clyde taking over you a little. This would technically your… 8th actual date…. you think. You rolled your eyes to yourself as you pulled in the parking lot of the Duck Tape, you had never been this sappy over a guy. Not sappy enough to remember whether it was the 8thdate or not at least. Clyde had you hook, line and sinker but you just weren’t sure if he felt the same.
Sure you hung out and spent more time at the bar than you ever used to. You went on dates and he stayed over. Sometimes you fucked but sometimes he just stayed for staying sake. But he never said anything about what this was, about how he felt about you. It was like you’d gone from courting to basically married overnight, skipping a whole bunch of steps, and it made you very nervous. You hadn’t talked about it, you were just going about your lives and although things felt simple enough the little voice in the back of your mind told you “He hasn’t called you his girlfriend yet. He hasn’t said you’re even dating yet. Stupid girl!”
Stupid you may be but were you his stupid girl? Every time you thought about it anxiety crept up inside your chest so you pushed it away in a strong effort not to push him away too. You didn’t really like the thought of a life without Clyde any more.
As you entered the bar you already had a smile on your face, it was packed full tonight. People milling about, loud music and it was hot. Sweltering hot! But you didn’t mind waiting; you just hoped you didn’t sweat your make-up off before Clyde had a proper chance to look at you. You’d prettied yourself up for him as usual. You rejoiced in his reactions every time; his shy smiles, the little pats to the butt he’d give you when he liked your jeans, the way he’d stutter at just a glimpse of the new lingerie you’d bought. He wasn’t behind the bar as you walked in, which was odd. You scanned the room, waving to a few people who caught your eye before you saw him sat down in one of the corners. You lit up like a Christmas tree, he wasn’t looking at you but the smile that broke out across your face told everyone exactly why you were here. That was until you’d dodged around a few people to get a closer. He wasn’t just sat down; he was sat down talking to someone. A female someone to be specific. You weren’t the jealous type, never have been and professed to never wanting to become that. Yet when you saw him smiling at her it made your skin prickle with something unexplained – he never smiles at anyone. You decided to stay back, since he hadn’t seen you, to see what happened next. The pit in your stomach grew larger and your chest tightened every time he so much as tilted closer in her direction. This just confirmed for you what you had been worried about, that stupid little feeling at the back of your mind had been right. He wasn’t in this as much as you. He was all sweet words and kind gestures but you weren’t worth being in a relationship with. You were fun but not fun enough. Pretty but not pretty enough. Dread swirled around you like wind and you felt rooted to the spot, cursed to watch the man you were convinced you were falling in love with fawn over another woman. Someone loudly called your name and you jolted, looking up you saw Jimmy walking towards you wiping his hands on his jeans on his way out of the mens bathroom. You had heard him and unfortunately so had Clyde. He followed Jimmys eyeline and saw you, his face went from bright and smiling to dropping into a frown when he saw your face. Although you were trying to hide it you were clearly wearing how much you were hurt all over it. He went to stand but you turned on your heel and took off towards the door behind you.
You could feel your eyes stinging as you frantically pushed the door open, stumbling slightly as your heels hit the gravel of the parking lot. You could hear Clyde calling your name but you kept walking.
“Where you goin’? You don’t wanna go to dinner no more?” he shouted after you, his voice suddenly a lot louder in the quiet of the night. “No Clyde, its fine” you snuffled, treating to blink away the tears that threatened to streak your make up. You jostled in your bag for your keys; you dropped it slightly but caught it awkwardly in your arms swearing loudly to yourself. You were rushing to get away and could feel emotion clogging up your throat.
Suddenly Clyde’s voice was a lot closer and you spun round in shock, he was staring at you with his face drawn down in confusion. Then he saw your eyes bubbling with tears and his face grew more concerned, he reached for you with his flesh hand and you instinctively shrugged your shoulder back.
“Did I do something darlin’?” he asked.
“Oh I don’t know Clyde did you?” you retorted, voice harsh but not angry. You couldn’t exactly blame him; the girl in there was beautiful. Far more beautiful than anything you saw in the mirror. And Clyde was… well Clyde! He was handsome and his big, broad body made you feel safe whenever he wrapped his arms around you. He was funny, even when he didn’t mean to be, and charming as all hell. You liked taking care of him, cooking his breakfasts and rinsing beer stains out of his shirts. Not because you thought it was your ‘duty’ but because you liked how he would reward you with a soft kiss and a pouty thank you. He also had this delicious ability to turn on a dime making your legs turn to jelly and give way from underneath you as he kissed your neck or smoothed his huge hands up your curves. You thought he needed you. You could spend hours boring someone with everything you loved about Clyde but you didn’t deserve all that but you would bet money she does - all pretty hair and long thin legs.
“I- I don’t know” he said, confused. He reached out to touch you again and you stopped him “Please don’t” you whispered, voice thick with emotion.
He whispered your name “But why? Tell me what I did darlin’, please”
“Listen I know I have no claim over you Clyde. You’re not mine I know that! But flirting with some girl in front of everyone when they ALL know we’ve been seeing each other or whatever. See other people Clyde! That’s fine by me, but did you have to make me look like an idiot in the process?”
“Sweetheart I don’t know-“
“- Because I got all dressed up and they know it’s for you cause who else am I seeing? No-one! So I come here all bright and shiny for you and you’re all happy with some other girl. God I feel so stupid!”
Clyde stammered slightly, taking his hands in and out of his pockets nervously, but he didn’t finish a sentence. You automatically assumed this was because he had something to own up for, mind reeling with the possibility that you’d been taken for a fool.
“Like I said I don’t own you. So if you want to go date this girl I’m not going to hold it against you but I thought… ” You took a deep breath in to still yourself, realising you’d been rambling at the top of your voice. “… I’ll see you later Clyde”
“But you’re my girl” he said in a voice so soft you barely heard him. You had started to walk away, back turned, the wind carrying his voice away from you.
“Excuse me?” you asked pausing in your step but not turning around. You knew if you looked at him right now you would burst into tears and you were determined to have more dignity than that.
“You’re my girl, why would I be flirting with someone?” his voice was confused and mumbled, like he was talking more to himself than you.
“I’m not blind Clyde I saw you – “
“-OH! You mean Chelsea?” he interrupted you loudly.
“Chelsea? Sure. I don’t care what her name is Clyde” you huffed getting exasperated at how clueless he was being. You turned around at this point to see him staring at you but not with the expression you were expecting.
“Chelsea is Ricks little sister” he said with a wide satisfied smile, like it was supposed to mean something. You just shrugged, an agitated look painting your face. All you wanted to do was leave; going home and crying into some ice cream right now sounded much better than freezing to death whilst trying not to cry in the Duck Tape parking lot.
Then he started laughing, like full on laughing. Now your shame was turning to anger.
“You know what Clyde Logan? Fuck you!” you turned away from him again and started walking towards your car jingling your keys anxiously in your hands. His footsteps were heavy on the gravel as he followed you.
“It’s just Chelsea! I wasn’t flirtin’ with Chelsea! Why would I do something like that? You’re being silly darlin’, please!” He shouted after you, he said your name and you heard his footsteps stop.
“Just leave me alone Clyde!” you yelled over your shoulder, voice breaking at his name.
“Are we not dating no more?” he asked, voice small and hurt like a child who had just been told they couldn’t go to Disneyland. When you looked at him again he almost looked panicked, with his hands twitching anxiously by his sides and eyes wide.
“No more?” you asked incredulously, “Honestly at this point I think I was crazy for thinking we were in the first place”
“But you’re my girl!” he replied a little louder, his lips were drawn down in a strong pout and his eyes were deeply sad. You stammered before taking a deep breath, studying his face and realising his genuine hurt.
“I am?” you asked. Then it hit you, you were his girl. The tears sprung back up in your eyes and you sniffed pathetically. This time you didn’t back away as he walked towards you.
“Yes. I just sort of… assumed you knew” he chuckled slightly, sniffing back his own tears.
“Well I did too. But I guess seeing you with her… I just doubted that I was…”
“What?” he pushed.
“Good enough for you” you muttered beneath your breath. He tsk’d through his teeth and reached out for you, dragging you face first into his hard chest.
“You are more than good enough for me. No dim-witted Logan deserves a girl like you” he said, words muffled as he placed kisses to the top of your head.
“Shut your mouth! That’s not true” you slapped his back in protest and he laughed at your volume of your anger being dampened by his shirt.
He leant back and took your face in both his hands, the cold metal of his prosthetic making you twitch slightly “You are my girl. Chelsea is Ricks younger sister, I used to go to high school with him and I ain’t seen her in years. She stopped by on her way through town is all. YOU are my girl.”
You looked up at him with apologetic pleading eyes, now you had a new anxiety sitting in your chest. You’d presumed he was a bad guy, your sweet soft Clyde could never be that but you’d jumped to conclusions.
“I’m embarrassed” you whispered. He kissed your nose and shook his head before saying “Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about sweetheart. We should have talked, I should have told you a lot sooner that you’re mine, made it clear for you, ya know? You are mine.”
He leaned down and his full lips began leaving gentle pecks to your slightly quivering ones as you sighed contentedly. The thought of never having this again had made you sick to your stomach. You grasped his blue shirt in your fists pulling him closer. You needed to feel him, make sure that you were hearing him correctly. He deepened the kiss with a smile playing on his lips before pulling back ever so slightly and whispering “You got that?”
You nodded and smiled weakly “Can we go to dinner now? All that misplaced rage really worked up an appetite”
Clyde laughed “Let me go tell the guys I’m leaving early, Jimmy can close up for me. Get in the car and warm your cute little butt up, far too cold out here for someone as scantily dressed as you” You blushed as he roamed his eyes down your figure, “You like it?” you asked shyly playing with the hem of your dress.
Clyde smirked, looking around for anyone else lurking in the parking lot before saying in a low voice “Listen darlin’ if you don’t get your butt up in that car we may not make it to dinner at all”
You giggled and pushed him back towards the bar entrance. You fumbled with your keys and slipped yourself into the driver’s seat slamming the door behind you. Resting your head against the cold leather of the wheel you let out a tired sigh.
Clyde was yours, all yours, and you promised yourself you would never doubt that again.
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prof-peach · 3 years
Note
I’m a printmaker, and I use Intaglio Printmaking for most of my art (engraving, or using other methods, to put a design a metal plate to hold ink and then rubbing the plate on paper to transfer ink, making a print). I have an Aron as my Pokemon and he always watches my work very intently as I etch into plates for hours, and create prints...it makes me feel a bit guilty...I was wondering if etching a design into my Aron’s armor would be safe and engaging way for us to create experimental art together? I don’t want to risk harming my best buddy.
WELL, this is a fine line really, the actual shell armour of an Aron is oddly enough not attached to its body, and when and if it should ever evolve, you will find its old metal plating left behind, as it grows a more permanent new one for its Lairon form. This means you could technically etch into them and they would feel nothing from it, and not take any damage or increased rick of disease. The soft form under the armour should be left WELL alone, this part of the pokemon will take damage from etching tools. 
Now, with the basics info in place you must know, once you add an etched area, it will not repair. The dinks and scratched Aron gain are for the rest of their lives in that form, so whatever you may decide to add to them, give it some really long thought, theres only so much of their shell to use as a printing plate before you run out of space. Id also always say that it MUST be ok with the pokemon too, it is after all their shell, their body, their rules. 
As you etch into metal a lot to make your plates for printing, it may be that your pokemon is eyeing up the metal itself as a snack, depending on its diet, it could be craving higher quality steel for food. If their diet is a little lacking they can display this behaviour towards many household items. It doesn't sound like the issue, but I figured i’d mention it just in case you've spotted something that may suggest this.
an alternative option is to hone its attacks to create excellent mark making, precision is often overlooked when we talk about pokemon training, but i deal with a lot of pokemon who have honed skills to a real fine point. Your little Aron may not have dexterous hands to hold tools with, but they do have attacks used in battle. These attacks are actually pretty adaptable with the right training, reducing big bold moves down to smaller more low powered versions may provide your partner with an ability to join in with your work, without using its own plating as an etching surface. I have seen many pokemon using the attack ‘Metal Claw’ in diverse ways (and your buddy should be capable of learning it too). some pick locks with it, others carve stone and wood into beautiful things, heck, it’s an attack with practical uses even in surgeries when done on a micro level. If you can train your pokemon to use that move much like a paintbrush, one claw, not a whole paw full, small movements, not a big swing, then they too could join in. who knows, if they can get their head around micro movements and low power outputs then they could make some amazing marks and patterns I bet, if not actual drawings of things they know and love. It’s kind of like taking a baseball bat and using it like a pencil, but with time they could become quite accomplished. If you can, try to get ahold of some old paneling off of a car, something thats been wrecked is just fine, you can use these panels as targets, practice areas for your buddy to get their head around mark making and smaller versions of their current attacks. It may not look like much to you at first but with work your partner will get the hang of it, it’s just all about practice. 
After a while your bud may develop their own tastes, sense of style, and THEN you could certainly think about ideas to etch into their plating on their body. if they choose to evolve you also get to keep the old shell, a monument to their younger self. A Lairon will regenerate their shell body, so after a few years the new etchings and marks will fade and you’ll get a chance to make something new with them. Try as many other options before you etch an Aron’s body, as you wont be able to retry if you get it wrong. Make sure you do this in a controlled environment, with a good steady hand. you may pierce the shell and could potentially hurt the pokemon within. Their shells are on average 3-5cm thick and are pretty dense, so you may find it easier to etch them while they're knocked out, for everyone safety its wise to do this. 
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sinemoras09 · 3 years
Text
1.
The remains of the Citadel lie crooked against a starscape of blues and blacks, the long arms connecting individual spheres of cities jutting out like jagged bones. On the inside, Construction Ricks rappel down the city towers, small and ant-like compared to the gleaming city structures below them.
Militia Ricks step out, ferrying the dead. A dusty truck crunches over debris and broken glass, while bodies are rolled up in thick stripes of canvas and tossed into the back.
In a subterranean basement, Caretaker Ricks rush around the large glass columns of yellow liquid while thousands of clone bodies are decanted, sputtering and slimy, a thousand reborn Ricks coughing and crouching on the ground.
*****
The artificial light is stuck in perpetual dawn or dusk, the entirety of the skyline barely visible in the dying half-light. In the middle of the rubble, Slow Rick is crying, a lone figure crouching among a throng of dead Mortys, his yellow shirt scuffed and his temple caked with old dried blood.
"Can, can, can anybody help me?" Slow Rick says. He hugs his arms and limps, accidentally kicking a dead Morty in the shoulder. He starts crying harder. "I-i-is anybody there?"
Cop Rick is digging in the rubble when he sees him and comes running over.
"Are you, are you my new Rick?" Slow Rick says. Cop Rick kneels down in front of him.
"Y-yeah. Yeah buddy, I am for now," Cop Rick says. He reaches back into his holster and grabs a tablet, quickly scrolling through the Citadel database. Slow Rick, it says, also known as Tall Morty, from dimension K-32-ipsilon-9. He suffers from Savant Syndrome and excels in electronics and rapid calculations. He invented a portal gun, accidentally portaling himself into Federation Space, where he became frightened and started calling out for his caretakers.
"Your name is Slow Rick, Rick?" Cop Rick says. Slow Rick shakes his head.
"My name is Tall Morty," Slow Rick says. Cop Rick touches his shoulder.
"All right, Tall Morty. Let's get you some help, buddy."
"Thank you, Mr. Rick," Slow Rick says. Cop Rick nods.
"Hey now, just call me Rick," Cop Rick says, and he helps him up from the ground.
*****
2.
They found him living in an adult care facility in a dimension 70 iterations off the Central Finite Curve. It wasn't surprising: ever since the Council of Ricks implemented routine brain scans across the multiverse, they found non-scientist Ricks in all sorts of places. There were Ricks who became school teachers and Ricks who were truck drivers, working stiff Ricks with the same potential and IQs.
The portal opened, and they expected that this Rick was a caregiver, maybe a physician or a nurse working in the facility. They weren't expecting to see him as a resident, wearing a bright orange shirt and eating a popsicle.
*****
"I didn't know Ricardo had a twin brother," was the first thing the receptionist said, as one of the Citadel Ricks conducting surveillance filled out his paperwork. The Rick opened his mouth, about to answer, when his other Rick partner stepped up behind him.
"Yo, I just did a preliminary scan, the Gromflomites have this place under surveillance." The second Rick walked toward the first Rick, where the receptionist choked on her coffee and did a double take. "Oh. Shit."
"Yeah. We're, uh. Triplets." The first Rick handed her the clipboard. "Uh. Monozygotic," he said, and he thumbed between the two of them. "And with little Ricky, uh, dizygotic."
"Oh. I see." The receptionist smiled kindly.
"Hey. I don't know you," Slow Rick said, as the two Ricks flanked beside him. The caregiver tsked at him.
"Ricardo. These are your brothers, Rick and Rico," the caregiver said.
"That's okay, ma'am. We don't blame him - we never really visited." The Ricks glanced at each other, uneasily. "Hey buddy. You playing with blocks, man?"
"Yeah!" Slow Rick said, and he beamed up at them happily. Warily the Ricks sat down at the table, watching him.
"Why the hell are the Glomflomites keeping him under surveillance? All he does is play with blocks and fingerpaints." The second Rick frowned, looking around.
"Hey, check it out," the second Rick said. Slow Rick started writing a bunch of numbers on a notepad. "Watcha doin' there, buddy?"
"I'm making a formula!"
"Oh, wow, buddy, real cool there, let's see--" he picked up the paper. His eyes widened.
"Bro," the second Rick said, and he handed it to the first.
"Did he...did he just come up with a grand Unified Theory of Everything? On the back of a fingerpainting?" Technically, all standard Ricks solved the riddle of marrying quantum physics to the theory of relativity decades ago, but given Slow Rick had the mentality of a 6-year-old, they were impressed.
"Ma'am? Is it okay if we take him out for day-long excursions?" The Ricks had radioed their findings to the Council, who ordered them to bring Slow Rick in.
"Of course!" the caregiver said, and she handed them the paperwork.
*****
Slow Rick - or Tall Morty, as he was now called - loved the Citadel. The Rick caretakers gave him candy. Everybody was really nice to him.
"What's this?" Slow Rick said. The Ricks set down a small glass of portal fluid, which glowed a hazy iridescent green.
"I-it makes things go other places. See?" One of the Ricks loaded it into a portal gun, shot two portals, and tossed a ball through. It sank into one membrane, then bounced off the second, making Slow Rick laugh hysterically.
"You think you can make that, buddy?" The Ricks provided all the materials. They would sit down and watch him to make sure he didn't do anything too dangerous. Slow Rick grinned and nodded.
"Yeah! I can do that!" Slow Rick said, and he started grabbing materials.
Like the other Ricks, this Rick had a genius's intuition. This Rick threw together the ingredients of portal fluid without measuring it. The two Ricks watched as he loaded his finished fluid into the portal gun, then shot two portals. They tossed in a ball, which easily slipped through it.
"Good job, buddy! Y-y-you think you can solve this equation?"
"Sure!" Slow Rick chirped, and he started writing down the math, chewing on a piece of licorice and kicking his feet under the table.
*****
3.
A circle of Militia Ricks surround a fallen Gromflomite, who's lying on his back and shaking. Wordlessly they all unholster their ray guns and shoot, the purple rays searing the Gromflomite's carapace and liquifying its insides.
"Geez," a Militia Rick says. Another Gromflomite charges at him but the Militia Ricks pull out their ray guns, easily neutralizing him. "How many fucking more of these Federation goons are left?"
"Hard to say, D-23. That's why we're patrolling each sector searchin' for them."
"Ugh, I wanna go home," the Militia Rick says. Another Gromflomite pops up to the side of him, but he points his arm and shoots him dead without even looking at him. "This sucks." Another Rick nods.
"Yeah, I know."
More digging. They throw pieces of rubble into a pile, hoisting up the dead bodies crushed beneath the debris. The Ricks are sweating, wiping their foreheads with their sleeves, when behind them there's a flurry of action.
"We got more survivors!" a Militia Rick says.
There's a group of Mortys huddled beneath the remains of what used to be a pharmacy. Around them, overturned shelves and broken bottles are scattered by their feet. The Mortys are miraculously intact, holding each other and crouching beneath a cardboard Rick sign advertising Energy Juice.
"W-w-w-what's going on?" a Morty says. The Militia Ricks flash their flashlights on him, the beam cutting a white line through the shadowed ruins. "Why were they attacking us? What's happening?"
"I don't know." The Militia Rick digs him out of the rubble. "What's your designation?"
"I-I-I don't remember. But they called me Glasses Morty." Glasses Morty isn't wearing his glasses. The Militia Rick grunts and hefts him and his friends out of the pile.
*****
In a remote outpost on the farthest corner of the Citadel, Cop Rick walks with Slow Rick following an abandoned street. The asphalt is cracked and jutting out at odd angles, the buildings surrounding it bombed out and crumbling. Cop Rick walks and he hears a few errant bricks falling off. He pulls out his scanner and searches for other biosignatures. No one else is alive.
"M-M-Mr. Cop Rick?"
"Yeah, Tall Morty?"
"W-w-when can I go home?" Slow Rick hugs his arms. "I'm scared and I'm cold."
"It's okay, Tall Morty. I-I got separated from my unit, but whatever was attacking us seems to have gone home." Cop Rick looks around. "Sorry, buddy. To tell you the truth, I-I-I'm just a rookie, I haven't even graduated from the Academy. Sorry you got saddled with a useless Rick like me."
"Y-y-you didn't gradutate yet?"
Cop Rick smiles. "It's graduate," he says, gently. "And no, I-I'm still part of the Academy."
They keep walking. A column of smoke rises from another ruined building, and Cop Rick hears someone yelling.
"Help me!" It's a Morty. "Help, can somebody help?"
"I'm coming!" Cop Rick says, and he breaks out into a run.
He can see a flash of yellow peaking out from a pile of debris. Cop Rick skids onto his knees, then starts digging through the rubble.
But it's too late. The Morty is guppy breathing, skin clammy, the blood that was tamponaded by the rubble suddenly rushing out. His lung is punctured and his pelvis is shattered. The Morty gasps, then chokes for air.
"Are you, are you a cop?" The Morty's eyes drag listlessly up toward Cop Rick's. "Are you gonna rescue me?"
There's no way the Morty will live another day, let alone the next ten minutes. Cop Rick grasps his hand.
"Yeah, buddy," Cop Rick says. "Reinforcements are coming, just hang on."
The Morty smiles. It's a sickly smile, wan and pale, until his pupils dilate and he stops breathing.
"Shit," Cop Rick says. He wipes his eyes angrily.
In the background, Slow Rick whimpers. Cop Rick straightens, dusting the front of his uniform.
"C'mon," Cop Rick says. "It's getting dark.”
https://archiveofourown.org/works/24816478
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thebigqueer · 3 years
Note
Also same anon here, just in general what do you imagine they look like? I like to get ideas for how i imagine them from other people
anon you know how long i’ve been waiting for someone to ask me???? IVE BEEN WAITING FOR CENTURIES.
percy: i’ve kind of always considered him to be brown actually! from mexico! i’ve always seen him as latino, so he has like brown skin. he has short black hair that falls into his forehead & his eyes from the front. he’s pretty tall, like 5′10-6′0. i’ve kind of always imagined him to be lean - he has muscles, but they’re not totally visible when he wears shirts or anything. he has kind squishy cheekbones and a really mischievous grin. you know he’s going to get you in trouble. but his grin is really intimidating - you sometimes feel like he’s judging you. he has really stormy dramatic eyes. they kinda look as though they’re swirling, like there’s a storm inside him that’s just waiting to let loose the moment he snaps. you do not want to mess with him. when he’s older, he probably gets a few tattoos over his arms, most likely things to do with the ocean. i think he’d dye his hair for a little while too! maybe try to get that gray streak back, and it would be that shock of hair that falls into his eyes. he’s got some dramatic dark lips imo - they’re probably a bit plump. he also has dramatic full eyebrows. 
annabeth: she has like semi-long curly blond hair. if she straightens it, it looks fairly long but since it’s curly, it’s about mid-length on her. gray eyes. some-what full pink lips ig? she definitely has muscles!! she’s not skinny at all - i think her muscles are more prominent than percy’s are, actually. she has tannish skin ig. i definitely see her as pretty tall, just about percy’s height. she’s got average-size lips and her eyebrows aren’t as prominent. 
piper: dark skin and brown eyes. she has a lean muscle figure (like percy) (and especially after she does a lot of training because i feel like she’d really want to get muscles??). layered hair (klsdflkjsfkljd im so gay for her hair laksjdlkfd). brown/black hair. a sharp nose, probably aquiline. i would say average-sized lips. full dramatic eyebrows as well though they’d be a little less full than percy’s. 
jason: ah, yes, my white bread. he has a pretty pale complexion, definitely whiter than annabeth, and blond hair. it’s a little more neat than percy’s but he has some hair that kind sticks out front, especially when he hasn’t cut it. probably a strong jawline and i see him a little buffer than percy. i feel like any time you look at him you feel like he’s actually high-key judging you because he’s kinda intimidating and all serious-like. average lips but his eyebrows are a little bit arched like he’s kinda embarrassed by you. 
leo: dark skin, a little bit darker than percy’s. he’s got a really mischievous grin like percy as well, but his is more joke-y like he’s constantly laughing at a joke that’s ringing in his head. he probably gets a few tattoos on his forearms when he’s older, and also one on the back of his neck. curly dark brown/black hair, of course, and probably long nimble fingers. his hair is short and it also falls into his eyes, but from the front - it's just a bunch of curls that poof up right over his forehead. sharp eyebrows.
hazel: dark brown skin and brown eyes. curly hair that i think gets longer when she’s older, and i’d like to think that she starts putting it up into a lot more styles when she’s older! she starts dressing much more goth (because nico definitely had an impact on her okay i love goth hazel) and starts getting tattoos as well!! she gets them all over her arms. i’ve always seen her as pretty curvy. soft curvy eyebrows. 
frank: dark cropped hair (but not like a buzzcut). i still see him as chubby because like that whole transition thing that rick did with him... idk man i’ve always seen him as chubby. he’s hella tall and as nice as he is, he probably intimidates people as well. there’s a kindness to him, but he makes sure you know that if you’re not careful, he can get mad. dark brown eyes. they glimmer with kindness but, like percy, they’re kinda stormy - he’s been through shit and he will be harsh if you give him a reason to be. kinda full softly-curved eyebrows.
reyna: just like annabeth, i see her as really buff. she’s pretty tall and she has pretty dramatic eyebrows. i think they’re also pretty thick as well. brown skin. dark brown eyes. long brown hair with bangs that she totally rocks. her lips look kinda like pointy natural, like this: 
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but they’re like darker. probbaly a pink-ish brown.
nico: dark silky hair that really just falls to the base of his neck and covers over his ears. i think as a result of not having a healthy diet and taking care of himself, he starts off pretty pale (like a pale olive color) but once he starts actually taking care of himself, his skin becomes more saturated again (like when he was younger). definitely becomes more olive. he has pretty thin lips imo but they turn into the prettiest smile. his lips are also like a really dark pink color. thin nose and dramatic eyebrows. his hair swishes into his eyes. oh, and dark brown eyes!! he’s skinny at first but when he starts eating more i think he starts to look more like he’s filling into himself. like he’s skinny to the point where you can see his veins but eventually he kinda fills himself up more and he looks really radiant :))) he also gets a bunch of tattoos, but not like sleeves. i think he’d get a bunch of randomly-placed tattoos on his arms and then have like a butterfly on teh back of his neck and then maybe a spine against his back or something?? also he has a light splash of freckles over his cheeks and nose. he also gets a nose piercing. wears rings all the time like the punk legend he is <33
will: when we first meet him, i honestly see him with like curly hair all over the place. when he gets older, though, i think it would turn wavier and longer, like just curling above the base of his neck (not as long as nico’s but like it’s definitely longer than before). the hair kind swishes into his eyes. blue eyes. kinda plump pink lips. he definitely gets a lot more tattoos when he’s older, especially like two whole-ass sleeves on his arms. he has some on his neck, too. tan skin, a tiny bit darker than annabeth. and i know that he’s technically described with a surfer’s body, but i keep thinking of him having some chub. i don’t know, i think it’s just kinda realistic. FRECKLES!!! all over his face and shoulders and neck!!!!! he has pink plump-ish lips that look kinda like this: 
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sourwolf-sterek32 · 4 years
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Sucker for Pain ( Daryl Dixon x Reader)
Summary: Everyone has demons, some louder than others and some, like yourself, who use blades to silence them. Before the world died, you were an assassin and thought you were better off alone, until you kept running into the same blue eyed archer who changed your mind.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Assassin!Reader
Word Count: 4.5k
Trigger Warnings: Mentions of self harm and physical and sexual assault and rape in a few chapters
Chapter 11- Final Chapter
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The doctor wheeled Y/N into some patient room and Beth was instantly by his side and started cutting open her jacket like she had done all of this a thousand times, but Daryl didn't miss how the girls hand shook as she used the scissors.
"Is she going to be okay?" Rick questioned, jogging into the room.
He stopped beside Daryl who was standing on the far side of the room, his arms crossed over his chest as he slowly paced along the back wall and Rick let him, knowing it was how he dealt with it.
"I don't know." The doctor admitted looking over at Rick.
Beth began to set up some IV drip after she finished cutting off Y/N's jacket. Exposing the bandage that was stained with dry blood over her left wrist which made Daryl's stomach drop at the sight of it as he thought back to when Y/N had cut herself too deep.
He wanted to ask what the doctor meant by 'I don't know.' He wanted to ask so many questioned, but he couldn't get the words out as he watched the doctor start to dig inside the bloodied bullet wound trying to find the bullet and he had to turn around.
He couldn't watch this.
"What do you mean 'you don't know?'" Sasha's voice questioned from the door.
Rick grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it gently for comfort as Daryl leant his forearms against the back wall and dropped his head, trying to stop the tears from falling down his face. This couldn't be happening. Not to her.
"She was shot from point blank and she's lost a lot of blood and we don't know her blood type and we don't know if the bullet hit any vital organs and we don't-" The doctor rambled before Rick cut him off.
"AB-negative."
"What?" Beth questioned as she finished setting up the IV and jogged around the gurney over to Rick, who still had his hand on Daryl's shoulder who had his back turned to the doctor and Y/N.
"AB-negative. That's her blood type. Shane and I studied her file for months and the only solid information we had on her was her blood type. It's AB-negative." Rick explained which got Daryl's attention as he turned back around and glanced between Rick and Beth before a small smile spread across her face.
The next few hours felt like an eternity as Daryl stood back and watched the strangers and Beth work on Y/N.
Rick never left his side and the others all stayed outside in the hallway, not wanting to be too far away from them, but wanted to give them some privacy. Nobody trusted this other group, despite them trying to save Y/N's life.
"The bullet is out. She has 13 stitches and has had two blood transfusions." The doctor informed as he checked on the IV drip beside the bed before he began to take off his blue plastic gloves.
"Now what? Is she going to be okay?" Rick asked, because for the life of him, Daryl still couldn't get himself to say anything.
All he could do was stare at Y/N's still pale body lying on the gurney in her jeans and sports bra with a thick white bandage wrapped around her mid section.
"I can't tell if there's any internal injuries, but so far she looks to be fighting still, so that's a good sign." The doctor answered glancing between the two of them before he sighed.
"I'm sorry this happened, but hopefully she'll be awake within the next 24 hours." The doctor continued before he walked out the room leaving him and Rick standing there while Beth sat beside Y/N's bed.
"Ya with me, brother?" Rick asked, squeezing Daryl's shoulder slightly, but Daryl couldn't tear his eyes away from the thick bandage wrapped around Y/N's stomach. "Hey, look at me. She's gonna be fine." Rick tried to reassure him, but Daryl shook his head.
"Ya don't know that." Daryl muttered, rubbing his face with his hands.
He leant back against the wall still unable to take his eyes away from her because if he did then she might just slip away and he couldn't let that happen. Not after everything she had been through, she couldn't die like this. She couldn't die.
"She's strong. She was strong before all of this, if anyone can pull through, it's her." Beth spoke up with a confident tone and if wasn't for her tear stained cheeks and red eyes, Daryl would have almost believed her.
"Wait, you knew who she was before this?" Rick asked looking over at Beth who was starting to make her way out the room.
The young girl nodded before walking out the door, leaving the two of them alone as Rick turned his attention towards Daryl.
"Did you know who she was before?" Rick questioned, but Daryl didn't look at him as he kept his eyes on Y/N.
"Yeah, wasn't hard to figure out." Daryl muttered.
"You knew who she was and you're okay with it?" He asked in disbelief and that was all it took for Daryl to snap.
"Why the hell wouldn't I be? She saved my life too many times to count 'n yours included. She ain't ever killed someone who don't deserve it 'n we both know that!" Daryl shouted, throwing his hands in the air in frustration as he began to pace the small room again.
"She's a murderer." Rick stated causing Daryl to scoff.
"Technically, we are too. But, the world ended, that shit don't matter no more." Daryl responded, shaking his head.
He walked over to Y/N's bedside and sat down on the chair Beth was sitting earlier as he rested his elbows on the edge of her bed and covered his face with his hands. He wasn't having this argument with Rick. Not now.
"Why didn't you tell me? She's been with us for weeks, sleeping in the same area as Judith and Carl." Rick continued to say and Daryl had to take a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he did something he would regret.
"She ain't a rapist or nothin'. She was the one who actually got raped trying to save us!" He snapped, glaring over his shoulder at him before he turned back towards Y/N as he reach forward and brushed a few strands of hair out her face.
"You still should have told me." Rick said softly, all the heat in his voice vanishing as he watched Daryl.
"Wasn't my secret to tell."
Rick sighed, but didn't say anything for a few seconds as he stared at his best friend. He hated how much pain Daryl was in watching Y/N lie on the bed and Rick was slowly starting to realise just how much the assassin truly meant to his brother.
"I think Y/N and I have a lot to talk about if she wakes up." Rick said after a few moments of silence.
"Ya gonna kill her if she wakes up?" He muttered, not bothering to look over at Rick who shook his head before he realised Daryl couldn't see him and actually answered with words.
"She saved Beth's life, on top of all the other times she's saved us. She pulled the gun towards her so it wasn't aimed at Beth... she sacrificed herself for one of ours." Rick began to say, shaking his head at himself as he ran his fingers through his hair.
"She's earned her place, no matter what she used to do before all this." Rick announced, walking over to Daryl as he rested his hand on his best friends shoulder.
"Rick, the others are here." Tyreese suddenly called from the doorway causing them both to turn around in confusion.
Why were the others here? They were going to DC for the cure... why would they come back?
Suddenly, Maggie popped her head around the corner of the door with her arm wrapped tightly around Beth's shoulder as the younger sister clung to Maggie.
"How? You were going to DC?" Rick questioned, staring at the her in shock.
"Eugene lied. There is no cure, so we came back and picked up a couple hitchhikers along the way who told us we'd find you here." Maggie answered, happy tears laced in her eyes as Carl walked into the room with Judith in his arms and Rick sighed with relief as he rushed over to his kids and hugged them.
Everyone slowly left Y/N's room, not wanting to crowd the area and gave Daryl some privacy as he sat beside her bed, refusing to move.
Shepard, the new leader of the group offered them all hospital rooms with beds for the night. She even told them that they could all stay if they wanted to, but Rick refused and said once Y/N was awake and okay to leave then they would and the group agreed.
However, nobody took Shepard up on her offer and they all ended up camping along the hallway by Y/N's bedroom.
Beth gave them all pillows and blankets as they sat against the wall and laid on the ground to sleep. Maggie never left Beth's side, still unable to process the fact that her little sister was alive and okay.
Daryl didn't move from beside Y/N unless he needed to take a piss, but he made sure someone was sitting with her while he was gone, even if it was for only a few minutes. He barely slept at all that night and the following day wasn't much better.
The doctor came by occasionally to check Y/N's vitals and make sure everything was going smoothly as far as he could tell. Beth monitored her IV drip and made sure it was always full, but other than that, there was nothing anyone could do.
The cops gave them food and water, constantly apologising for what went down and he knew they felt bad about what happened, but Daryl didn't give a shit. All he cared about was Y/N waking up and that was it.
-
Silence.
That was the first thing you noticed when you started to wake up. It was too damn quiet, where the hell were you?
Slowly you forced your eyes open, in fear that you might be passed out in the woods and were sitting walker bait or something. But, as you blinked away the blurriness you quickly realised that you were not in the woods, you were in a building.
You glanced around the room in confusion, spotting some medical equipment and machines set up beside your bed and that's when it hit you.
Flashes of Dawn's handgun and the blood pouring from your stomach filled your mind and it all came flooding back. You were shot and you were still in that hospital with the cops. That's not good. You had to get out of here.
Without another thought you quickly sat yourself up, ignoring the sudden pain and dizziness that took over your body as you took a deep breath and swung your legs over the side of the bed.
"Y/N?" Daryl's groggy voice question from somewhere behind you.
It was clear that he had just woken up by how tired his voice sounded, but you didn't answer as you forced yourself to your feet, but that was a big mistake.
The ringing in your ears started again as your head began to spin and you stumbled a few steps before black dots began to cloud your vision. The last thing you were aware of was Daryl guiding you back down onto the bed before you passed out.
-
*Three Hours Later*
"She's waking up, someone go get Daryl and the doctor." A soft female voice said in the background somewhere.
Slowly, your eyes fluttered open and instead of staring at the ceiling, all you could see was Beth's face hovering over your in relief.
"Y/N? Can you hear me?" She asked gently and you nodded weakly.
As the seconds ticked by the pain through your stomach began to rise and you glanced down to take a look at the bullet wound to find that you had a thick white bandage wrapped around your stomach. Your jacket and tank top were gone, leaving you in jeans and a sports bra, but you were too out of it to give a shit right now.
Your eyes flashed over to your left arm and you sighed realising that the scars, cuts and bandage around your left wrist was extremely visible, but it was too late to try and hide them now. Guess everyone knew about it now.
"Do you remember what happened?" An unfamiliar voice asked.
You turned your head to the right to find a man dressed in a lab coat standing beside Beth just as Daryl rushed through the door behind them. He stopped the second his eyes locked with yours and you tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace than anything.
"G-gun shot." You groaned, trying to sit yourself up, but the doctor quickly grabbed your shoulders.
"Take it easy, just lay down." He said calmly causing you to glare at the man.
"Get your hands off me." You instructed through gritted teeth and the doctor did as you said before you slowly moved yourself into a sitting position, ignoring the pain flaring through your stomach as you did so.
"This should help." Beth informed as she added something to your IV drip which you assumed were painkillers before the doctor continued to ask you questions and you answered them, silently wishing the guy would just go away.
"I think you're going to be okay. It doesn't seem like the bullet did any major damage, just stay in bed for a while and let your body heal." The doctor explained and you nodded.
You didn't say anything more to the doctor before he walked out the room and your eyes landed back on Daryl who still hadn't moved from where he stood by the door, staring at you.
"I'm so sorry, Y/N. If I didn't stab Dawn, then she wouldn't have drew her gun and you wouldn't have-" Beth began to apologise before you cut her off.
"It wasn't your fault, kid. I couldn't let her kill you. I'm just glad you're alive and back with your family." You answered causing Beth to smile through teary eyes as she leant down and hugged you gently.
"I'll go tell the others the good news. Get some rest." Beth said a few seconds later as she walked out the room, leaving you and Daryl alone.
He was still standing by the door and even from the distance and the hair covering part of his face, it was clear that he had barely slept and you hated that you were the reason for it.
"You look like shit." You commented, breaking the silence and you relieved that your voice sounded semi-normal as you watched Daryl's lips twitch up in a slight smile as he shook his head.
"Ya should see yourself." He muttered as he walked over to you, taking a seat on the chair beside your bed and your eyes locked with his.
"Ya almost died." He whispered.
You didn't miss the tears starting to rise in his eyes as he spoke and your heart broke.
"Well, wouldn't be the first time." You tried to joke, but Daryl just glared at you as he reached out towards your left hand and took it, lacing your fingers together and you sighed, but didn't pull away.
Neither of you said anything for a moment as you stared at him. You were the reason for his tears and you hated that. Nobody should cry over you, especially not Daryl, you didn't deserve that.
"What I said to you earlier about doing whatever Rick decides, you have to go along with it. I'm a bad person and I'm not letting you get dragged down with me once your group realises that I'm still alive and want to kill me." You explained, but Daryl just shook his head.
"It doesn't matter what ya did. It doesn't change how I feel 'bout ya." Daryl responded, his thumb tracing small circles over the back of your hand.
"It should." You whispered.
"It doesn't. 'N the group wants ya with us, they don't care 'bout ya past no more." He stated and you shook your head, not believing him in the slightest before something clicked. He said the group. The group wasn't here, half were back at the church and the others would be halfway to DC by now.
"Everyone's here. All camped out in the hallway as we speak. The cure was bullshit 'n they came back." Daryl added, sensing your confusion.
"I totally called it. I knew the whole cure thing was a load of crap, kinda sucks I was right though." You mumbled.
Daryl to rolled his eyes at you as he slowly traced his thumb over the old scars across your wrist with a sad smile.
"C'mon help me up, I'm not saying here any longer." You declared, wanting to get his thoughts away from your scars and wanting to get the hell out of this damn hospital.
"Nah, doc said ya needed to rest." Daryl argued, but you didn't listen as you pulled the IV needle from your arm and slowly swung your legs over the side of the bed.
In an instant Daryl was by your side, his hands hovering over your shoulders knowing you didn't like being touched without permission, but wanting to be there in case you passed out again.
"I'm good." You said, standing yourself up straight as you rested your hand over the bandage trying to ignore the dull ache, but at least it wasn't a sharp pain anymore thanks to Beth's painkillers that had finally kicked in.
"Here." Daryl said as he began to pull his leather vest off, leaving him in his sleeveless button down as he helped you put the vest on.
It was a little big for you, but it covered your bra and most your upper body without having to do the buttons up, so you gladly took it.
You spotted your sniper leaning against the wall at the far corner of the room and Daryl must have saw what you were looking at as he walked across the room and grabbed it before handing it to you and you smiled, taking your weapon and slinging it over your shoulder.
Slowly, you began to limp towards the door and nearly tripped over in the process if it wasn't for Daryl who grabbed you just in time and threw your arm over his shoulder to help you and you didn't argue.
The second you stepped into the hallway you froze.
Holy shit, Daryl was right. The entire group was literally camped in the hallway, all of them sitting and lying down, covered in various blankets and pillows. Most of them were asleep, but Beth was talking softly with Maggie, Glenn and Abraham, who were the only ones awake.
"Oh my God, should you be up and walking?" Glenn suddenly questioned once his eyes landed on you.
He said it a bit too loudly, but he didn't seem to notice or really care as the others all groaned and slowly woke up, but the second they spotted you, they all quickly stood up in shock.
"Well shit, you're one tough son of a bitch. Glad to see you still kicking." Abraham commented with a friendly smile and you smiled back at him, knowing that was his small way of apologising for the shit he'd said to you before he left the church a few days ago.
You talked with everyone for a while and to your shock they all seemed to be happy and relieved that you were okay before Rick walked down the hallway with baby Judith fast asleep in his arms, but the second he saw you standing there he froze with wide eyes.
"Ya still gonna kill me, Deputy? If so, make it a good shot. I don't die easily apparently." You half joked motioning towards the bandage that was slightly visible under Daryl's vest causing Rick to shake his head as he began to walk towards the group of you.
"We might have been on opposite sides of the law back in the day, but you have earned your place in the group. You're a survivor just like us, I just wish it didn't take you getting almost killed for me to realise that." Rick admitted, taking you by surprise.
You stared at him for a few seconds before the group erupted in happy cheers and Daryl sighed with relief, still holding your arm over his shoulders as you leant into his side and rested your head against his shoulder.  
"Thank you, now let's get the hell out of here." You stated and the group didn't bother arguing with you.
Rick spoke to the cops before you left and somehow convinced them to give you a spare car along with bags of food and water to take with you.
The group of you piled into the car along with the large truck that Abraham and the others had found along the way because apparently they crashed the bus and wrecked it which was a shame, that bus would have been perfect.
Nobody really had a destination in mind, so you suggested a small power station that you had stayed at once. It had high wire fences around it and was secure the last time you saw it. Nobody else had a better idea so they all agreed on the power station.
It took nearly five hours before you pulled up in front of the tall barbed wire fence that lined the small power station.
You stayed by the cars with Carl, Beth and Judith while the others went through the front gate to check and clear the place. You leant against the bonnet of the car with your sniper in your hands, watching their backs while Carl and Beth kept guard by the back of the cars, but to your relief they reappeared within five minutes and declared the place clear.
There wasn't much in the area minus the power lines and electrical boxes, but you pulled the cars into the yard and began to set up beds and tents in the small area. Tara and Maggie took guard duty and set up on top of one of the metal electrical boxes to give them a view of the whole area.
Daryl had disappeared to go hunting while you still had a few hours of daylight left and the rest of the group all worked on getting a small fire lit and some of the canned food cooked.
Everyone sat around the small campfire while you waited for the food to cook. They all talked quietly amongst themselves as you stood back, leaning against the side of the cop car and took in the moment.
"Hey." Rick voice said softly and you glanced to your left to find the former Deputy walking towards you.
"Sorry about how I dealt with everything... I guess things aren't as black and white these days like they were when we first met." He explained causing to you chuckle softly which you quickly regretted as pain spiked through your stomach and you to winced.
"Sorry." Rick quickly apologised, but you shook your head.
"You know, you could have figured it out yourself without Gareth telling you. All the clues were there, especially that first night on the road, I killed those bikers with bullets through their eyes and I was almost certain you'd put two and two together, but you never did... You didn't figure out that I was the assassin because you didn't want to." You answered truthfully
Rick stared at you for a few seconds as he though about what you just said and nodded in agreement as he leant back against the car beside you, both of you watching the others sitting by the campfire.
"You're probably right. But, why fake your own death? The whole car crash thing? Why?" He asked curiously.
"The Feds from downtown were getting too close. I needed something to distract them while I laid low, so I staged my own death and then the dead started to walk a few months later. Crazy times." You stated shaking your head causing Rick to laugh softly from beside you, but he nodded agreement.
"Ain't that the truth."  
Judith began to whimper in Carl's arms from where he was sitting by the campfire and you watched as the young boy glanced over at his father with a 'help me' expression causing you to smile softly as Rick chuckled and pushed himself from the car.
"Duty calls." He said and you nodded as he walked over to his children and scooped Judith up in his arms and the little girl instantly settled down.
Slowly, you began to limp over to the group, Carol instantly moving over so you could sit between her and Beth and you smiled and carefully sat down with a slight wince as you grabbed your stomach. The doctor had given you a small bottle of painkillers to take if you needed, but you kind of wanted the pain, so you kept the pills in the car.
"How are you feeling? Do you want me to get the painkillers?" Beth asked worriedly, but you shook your head as you rested your sniper down beside you.
"Nah, I'm good. But, I think I'll take that Sharpie now, if you still got it?" You asked quietly so the others couldn't hear.
For a second, you thought that maybe you had said it a little too quiet, but then Beth's face stretched out into a smile as she pulled the Sharpie out from her sweater pocket and held it out towards you.
"I'm glad you asked for it. Sorry, pink's the only colour I got." She apologised, but she didn't sound sorry as you took the Sharpie to find that it was in fact pink causing you to roll your eyes as the young girl smiled even more.
"Thank you, pink will be just fine." You replied with a gentle smile.
You twirled the pen around in your hand while the others all continued to talk quietly amongst themselves. Some were telling stories and sharing memories from the past, others planning and thinking of where to go next while you sat there and silently listened to the friendly chatter.
20 minutes later, Daryl came back with a dozen squirrels tied to a rope and the whole group broke out in huge smiles and instantly began helping the hunter clean and skin them.
Once the squirrels were ready to cook, Daryl swapped seats with Carol who insisted on cooking the food so he could be with you and you weren't going to complain about that.
"How's the bullet wound? Ya alright?" He asked, sitting down beside you as he stretched his legs out, his thigh resting against yours and you smiled softly at the small contact.
"I'm fine, just wish I could help more around camp." You admitted and you didn't realise you were talking so loud because half the group all spoke up at once.
"You nearly got yourself killed saving Beth, you deserve a rest."
"You told us about this camp, that's helping."
"You have done more than enough for this group."
They all called out from around the campfire. catching you by surprise. All them were looking over at you with friendly smiles causing you to roll your eyes, but you just nodded, unable to stop yourself from smiling at their words before you all began to eat the squirrel and canned food.
A few hours later, everyone had fallen asleep around the campfire covered in blankets, pillows and sleeping bags. Glenn was the only one awake as he kept watch from the top of an electrical box, but neither you or Daryl were asleep either as you leant against Daryl's side fiddling with the Sharpie while you both stared at the small glowing embers of the fire.
"What's with the pen?" Daryl asked quietly.
He rested his chin on top of your head while you leant against his chest, but you didn't answer him straight away as you thought about how to answer it.
"Ya don't wanna tell me? That's alright, ya don't have to tell me."
"It's a therapy technique... Beth told me about it, to stop me from... you know." You trailed off lifting the sleeve of your new jacket -thanks Maggie- as you showed him the small pink stars you had drawn on your skin earlier and you felt Daryl nod his head slightly.
"I guess everyone knows about them now." You whispered, watching as Daryl ran his fingers gently over the old scars near the pink stars over your left wrist.
"Nah, they only know 'bout the rumours, that's it... Why do ya cut? Ya never did answer that question all those weeks ago." He asked quietly and you shrugged your shoulders trying to think about a way of answering that actually made sense.
"It's the only pain I can control." You answered and Daryl didn't say anything for a few seconds before he nodded.
"That make sense." He whispered, catching you by surprise slightly as you tilted your head up towards him to find him smiling softly down at you as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.
"You're the first person who's ever said that." You said, lowering your head slightly as you thought back to the first time you started cutting and about your life before the dead started to walk.
You were so young, but you had a purpose. You were taking down the people on your fathers list, you were making the world a better place, but now... you didn't have a purpose. Being an assassin was all you knew, what were you meant to do now?
"What's wrong?" Daryl asked a few minutes later.
You didn't realise you had been sitting there staring at your wrists in silence and you shook your head. It was stupid. You were alive and with a good group of people, your thoughts were stupid.
"C'mon, what's goin' through that head of yours?" He asked, his voice slightly concerned and you sighed.
"I was the best version of myself out there, following in my fathers footsteps, trying to make the world a better place... I had a purpose, I was fighting for something, but now... For the first time in as long as I can remember I don't have a purpose. And I guess, if I'm being honest, I'm just... I'm scared." You admitted, shaking your head at yourself because that sounded so pathetic, but it was true.
"Ain't gotta be scared. Ya have a place here, with this group, with me." Daryl insisted, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he pulled you into his chest.
You smiled, letting him hold you as you both stared at the campfire and for the first time in a long time, you could actually see the light at the end of the tunnel and you knew things were going to be okay.
-
A/N- Link in bio for Masterlist. I will reblog with my Daryl Dixon Tag List, if you want to be added to the list, just comment below. 
Firstly, I just want to say thank you to all those who have stuck through this fic and have supported me throughout this journey. This fic was a first for me, it was completely different from anything I have ever written and darker than I have ever written, but i had to give it a happy ending and I am so grateful for all your sweet comments. 
I will admit, i wrote some of this fic based off my own experiences with self harm and I just wanted to say to those of you out there who can relate, you are not alone. You are strong. You are brave. You are worth it. And you have to keep fighting. I know sometimes it might not feel worth it, it might feel easier to give in and give up, but there is light at the end of the tunnel even if you can’t see it yet, i promise you, there is and sometimes the brightest light comes from the darkest places. I don’t know who you are or what you have been through, but from the famous words of Jared Padalecki ‘ALWAYS KEEP FIGHTING’ 
I love you all, stay strong, stay safe and thank you again for reading this fic xx
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lesbianlovelanguage · 4 years
Note
The Mummy AU: Billy as Rick, Steve as Evie, Robin as Jonathan
Hi nonny!!! Thank you so much for this prompt! It gave me an excuse to watch The Mummy again, which is never a bad thing to do heheh
So this is only one scene (also one of my favorite scenes) but I could easily be persuaded to write more! Like them actually on the boat, or literally any scene. 
----
“Step on over the threshold, and welcome to Cairo Prison, my humble home,” the old warden called out over his shoulder as he led a pair of siblings, Robin and Steve, into the courtyard. 
“I thought you said you got it from a dig in Thebes,” Steve whispered angrily at Robin. 
“Well, found at a dig in Thebes, taken out of a theive’s pockets, it’s all the same don’t you think?” Robin answered, looking up and batting her eyelashes, as if Steve had ever believed her to be an innocent and naive girl. 
“You lied to me,” he pouted.
“Yes, well, I lie to everyone, what would make you so special?”
“I’m your brother?”
“And that only makes it easier to trick you,” she retorted.
“I still can’t believe you stole it from a drunk at the tavern down the road.”
“Yes well, technically it’s called pickpocketing, but you’re right and he might be really angry, so maybe we should just be-“ she tried to turn around a leave, but all that got her was a snort and a dirty glare from the warden, who had led them across the bustling courtyard over to a cell in the middle of the block. 
“Now, what exactly is this man in prison for,” Steve asked the warden, or rather demanded of him, as his tone left no room for ignorance. 
“Well, this I do not know,” he replied. “When I heard you were coming, I asked Billy that myself.”
“And what did he say?” Steve prompted.
“He was just looking for a good time.” Before Steve or Robin could ask any further questions, the door at the back of the cell burst open and two muscular guards pushed out a beast of a man, who was dressed in ratty clothes and thick shackles around his wrists. His hair was a mess of blond curls that reached his shoulders and looked as if they hadn’t seen a comb in months, and he had dirt covering him in random patches from head to toe. 
The two guards threw him against the front bars closest to the awaiting trio, and when he hit the metal, he gripped on and bared his teeth before sliding down to his knees.
“This is the man you stole from?” Steve whispered to his sister.
“Yes, exactly, so why don’t we just go ba-”
“Who are you?” The man in question interrupted, “and who’s the fella?” 
Robin began to stutter, trying to spin some story about being missionaries before pushing Steve forward and introducing him.
“This is my brother, Stevie. And your name is, uh, Billy, correct?” 
“How do you do?” Steve muttered, trying not to completely forget his manners.
“Yeah. Well… I’m sure he’s not a total loss,” the prisoner said as he looked Steve up and down. Now, Steve was no stranger to others looking down on him, especially after he chose to live a more domestic and ‘feminine’ lifestyle, but the absolute nerve of a person in shackles to judge him?
“I beg your pardon?” He said as he took a step closer to the cell bars. Shouting from the guards behind them broke the tension, and Steve took a deep breath. “We’ve, uh. We’ve found your puzzle box?” Steve said, unsure of what to call the strange hexagonal box Robin had picked up from Billy. “We’ve come to ask you about it.”
Billy shook his head quickly. “No.” 
Steve felt his face fall as he repeated back, “No?”
“Yeah, no. You came to ask me about Hamunaptra,” he said with a surprising amount of surety. Steve and Robin both looked first at each other and then at the guards to make sure no one had overheard, but the guards seemed more interested in something happening across the yard to pay them any attention.
“How do you know the box pertains to Hamunaptra?” Steve asked, stepping even closer to the bars.
Billy gave him a flat look. “Because that’s where I was when I found it. I was there.” 
Robin pushed past Steve to get up in Billy’s face. “And how do we know that’s not a load of pig’s swallow?” With Robin’s closer proximity though, a flash of recognition crossed Billy’s face and he pointed at her.
“Do I know you?” Robin sputtered, trying to deny the fact that she had been the one to seduce and steal from him. She didn’t get very far before he reached through the bars and tugged on Robin’s hair hard enough for her to hit the bars. She hit the floor, and one of the guard’s batons hit him across the shoulders. Steve glanced at his sister, checking for any actual damage, before stepping over her and kneeling down in front of him. 
“You were actually at Hamunaptra?” Billy smiled, a feral thing that was all teeth, as he nodded.
“Yeah, I was there.” 
“You swear?”
“Yeah, I was there. Seti’s place,” he pulled back and began to wave his hands around, “The City of The Dead.” His tone was mocking, but Steve could only feel excitement bubble up.
“What did you find? What did you see?” 
Billy gave him a blank stare, and then blinked. “I found sand. I saw death.” 
“Could you, could you tell me how to get there?” He simply blinked at him again, and then the warden started yelling in rapid arabic. At the reminder that they weren’t alone, Steve leaned even closer. “I mean, could you tell me the exact location?” 
Billy smirked and leaned forward. “You want to know?” Steve nodded. “Yes.”
“You really want to know?” They both leaned closer, Steve not wanting to miss a single word.
“Yes.” But instead of telling him where the lost, ancient city was, Billy pushed his hand through the bars and gripped the back of Steve’s head tightly. He pushed him forward and kissed him, full force, a harsh and violent kiss unlike any woman Steve had ever kissed. It was as thrilling as it was mortifying, and that little seed of excitement and lust made him push against the man.
“Then get me the hell out of here,” he whispered harshly before the two guards lifted him up by the shoulders and dragged him out of the cell. Steve sat there dazed for a moment, and then looked up at the warden who had led them over to the cell.
“Where are they taking him?” 
“To be hanged.”
The Hanging 
It had seemed that hanging someone was an exciting event in Cairo Prison, as Steve and Robin witnessed hundreds of other prisoners fill the cells surrounding the courtyard and begin to hoot and holler, as if they had been at a sporting event instead of a hanging. 
Steve tried to suppress a shudder when he laid eyes upon the gallows sat deadcenter of the courtyard, rope swaying in the light breeze. He left Robin down below and followed the warden up to a small balcony overlooking the gallows. He turned and looked him up and down.
“No visitors allowed.” 
“I am an Englishman,” Steve said, attempting to pull out his haughtiest tone, as if being English meant anything here. The warden shrugged and sat down in one of the two chairs. Steve made his way over to the other chair as Billy was brought out. They made brief eye contact before Steve turned towards the warden.
“I will give you one hundred pounds to spare his life.” The warden blinked at him, and then began to chuckle.
“I would pay one hundred pounds just to see him hang.” 
“Two hundred pounds,” Steve countered, feeling a little desperate. The warden continued to chuckle as he turned forward.
“Proceed!” He shouted across the courtyard. This sent the prisoners who were sat watching into another frenzy of screaming, banging on the bars and trying to spit on Billy. 
“Three hundred pounds,” Steve tried again, shouting over the commotion.
The warden ignores him, waving a hand to the hangman. 
Steve heard the man as if in a dream asking Billy if he had any last requests, and Billy gave some smart remark. 
“Five hundred pounds!” Steve tried one final time. The warden turns and gives him a lecherous smile.
“And what else? Saw you kissing the man down there, fairy like you would be interesting.” Steve’s eyes widened as he registered exactly what the warden had been implying, before scoffing and turning away. The warden’s face twisted in anger at the rejection and he quickly gestured for the hangman to proceed. Steve could do nothing as he watched the trapdoor beneath Billy swing open and the rope drop before jerking taught. 
Steve looked away, so he didn’t realize exactly what had happened until he heard the warden cry out.
“His neck did not break! Now we watch him strangle to death!” Steve whipped his head around and watched as Billy struggled and flailed at the bottom of the rope. This was even worse than watching him hang, Steve thought. Realization dawned on him then, exactly what would make the warden stop.
Steve leaned over and whispered in the warden’s ear, “He knows the location of Hamunaptra.” The warden spun around from where he had been watching Billy suffocating and squinted at Steve.
“You lie,” he said.
Steve gasped. “I would never!” 
“Are you saying this filthy, godless son of a pig knows where to find The City of The Dead? Truly?” The warden asked, still staring intently at Steve, searching for any sign of deceit. 
“Yes, and if you cut him down, we will give you… ten percent of the treasures found.” 
“Fifty percent,” the warden bargained. 
“Twenty.”
“Fourty.”
“Thirty.”
“Twenty-five,” the warden said, and before he realized what he had done, Steve was nodding and shaking the man’s hand. 
“Twenty-five it is.” The warden grimaced, but slowly turned around and began to yell in Arabic down to the hangman. A scimitar slashed through the rope, and Billy fell to the ground, gagging and gasping for air. They briefly made eye contact once again, and Steve saw the first glimpse of genuine emotion flash across Billy’s face. Gratitude and relief. 
The Next Morning
The next day saw Steve and Robin standing on the pier, waiting for Billy to arrive so they could begin their journey to Hamunaptra.
“Do you really think he’ll show up?” Steve asked, trying to ignore his nerves.
“Undoubtedly,” Robin said. “I know his type, and while he may be an asshole, his word is his word.” 
“Personally, I think he’s more than an asshole. He’s filthy, rude, and a complete scoundrel! I don’t like him one bit,” Steve huffed, crossing his arms. Robin gave a knowing smirk and then leaned in close to her brother.
“You’re just mad because he kissed you, and you don’t know if it was real or fake.” Steve whipped around, ready to sock his sister, punching a lady be damned, when instead he laid eyes on Billy.
Except, it wasn’t the same Billy they had seen just the day before. Gone was the beast of a man with unkempt hair and a scraggly beard. Instead, Steve was faced with a well-dressed man, who’s hair had been cut to frame his face and show off his stunning blue eyes. 
Steve was speechless.
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pikemoreno · 4 years
Text
if you ever wanna be in love
Chapter III: Going Down
a/n: surprise! it’s a little early! well.. technically it’s a week late but you know what i mean... i’m gonna try to get back on schedule now...
taglist is open if you’d like to be added. sorry if you asked and i missed it or forgot. please just ask again if you aren’t on there and would like to be. :’)
pairing: marcus pike x f!reader
word count: 2.4k
warnings: none, and i don’t expect there to really be any serious ones in upcoming chapters either. this is just fun.
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Rick’s was in its usual state of vacancy when you walked in with Marcus, you leading the way as he held the front door for you. The fifteen or so tables were mostly empty except for a couple that held some elderly patrons and one that seated a businessman on his lunch break, his phone held rigidly to his ear. 
You and Marcus were sat at a corner booth by a lovely middle-aged woman who Marcus, unsurprisingly, seemed to be friendly with. They engaged in small talk as she distributed two menus-- as if either of you needed it, a simple formality in this case. He asked her about “the kids and grandkids” and she responded “Oh crazy as ever” and they laughed as two old friends exchanging an inside joke. You guessed they kind of were, or at least old friends in the sense that Marcus made anyone into an old friend nearly instantaneously. 
You both ordered, not needing any time to peruse a menu, she called it out to the kitchen and continued her small talk with Marcus. She introduced herself to you as Sandra when Marcus introduced you as “his friend from work.” You smiled at that. You discovered that she was the owner and that her husband had been the titular Rick who had passed away three years ago, leaving her to run the place. She finished her story about her oldest granddaughter, one of seven, and how she was adapting to college life and walked off to placate another customer nearby.
Marcus really had a way with people. As he told you more about his friendship with Adrian on the walk over that’d become clear, talking about Adrian as if he’d known him forever. He seemed to have every fun fact from his favorite food to the cause of the scar on his forehead down as if he’d learned them all naturally from childhood. He hadn’t. They met a year and a half ago when Adrian moved to Austin from the Phoenix field office. He really knew how to talk to people, asking lots of questions with real interest and doing everything to make them feel important and included and understood. You had no idea how he did it, how he was just like that. You’d never be able to remember that the granddaughter of the owner of your favorite restaurant was moving into college, nor would you probably ever think to take the intentional time to find that out in the first place. He was something else, truly. It kind of made you want a permanent spot in his circle, to feel important like that too. 
But, first, to take care of business.
“Tell me more about Adrian,” you began, “Do you know his type?”
“I’m not really sure if he has one. He’d been with Sam since before I met him. Never took a second glance at anyone else.”
“Committed. That’s sweet. What’d she look like then?” Marcus pulled up a picture that remained on Adrian’s social media. Sam’s tawny brown complexion was certainly not an exact match to Wendy’s warm umber; Wendy had sharper features where Sam’s were rounder. But their hairstyles were similar, if he was into that, and they both had deep brown eyes. You wished Marcus had more for you to work off of, but you knew looks were nothing but a first impression and Wendy, being the beautiful goddess she was, would certainly catch Adrian’s eye no matter his “type.” 
Now to just get to that point. 
You handed his phone back to him as your food was brought out and laid in front of you.
“So what’s he into then? What’s his scene?” you gestured vaguely with your fork.
“Well, he’s a big social guy. Not a hard partier necessarily, but likes going to bars-- the loud ones?” Marcus seemed to wince from personal experience. “He likes being out late and having fun and meeting new people. Big extrovert.”
You sighed. That was not Wendy. Wendy was a classic introvert. She’d rather spend an evening reading a book or walking a deserted museum, maybe having a drink with a friend or two. She was kind and loving, but not one to meet everyone in the room. She was confident in an unassuming, quiet way, not feeling the need to work a room. Daniel had been the perfect socialite in their relationship. You wondered if Adrian would be too similar to the jackass-- minus the jackass part.
“I couldn’t drag Wendy to a crowded bar on a weekend if I tried. Would Adrian maybe be interested in an evening stroll in a quiet museum?” 
“Definitely not,” Marcus stated emphatically, “I would though.”
“Are you interested in being set up with Wendy?” you joked. He gently shook his head.
“Can’t say I’m looking.” 
You hummed noncommittally in response. It had sent a pang through your chest that you couldn’t name.
You moved on.
“It sounds like our best option is to get them to meet in the office somehow.” You held your thumb between your teeth as you thought and laughed as your next thought came to you, “Maybe we should get them to meet like we did. Steal all the coffee, make them go find some, hope it’s love at first sight?” Marcus tilted his head at you, his face unreadable. “That’s a long shot though,” you huffed. “It doesn’t mean they’d end up together… Obviously.” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “We need a meet cute. Every great romance starts with a meet cute.”
“Get them stuck in an elevator together?” he suggested after a moment of considering. You blinked at him, a little dazed at the sudden solution. His eyes moved from where they’d been looking out at the city street to meet your blinking gaze. “What? I’ve seen the movies. That’s a classic.” 
“So how do you suggest we do that?”
“I think the security desk has control over the elevator. We’ll convince them to help and then we just have to make them get in the elevator at the same time.”
“Easy,” you chirped sarcastically.
“Do you have a better idea?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to offer something, but you simply shook your head. “Great. Let’s go stop an elevator.”
Step 1: Convince The Guard
Walking back into the office, the two of you made a beeline for the security desk, casually stopping in front of the guard whose eyes were fixed on the screens that provided various views around the building, including the sought after elevators. He looked new to the job: young, bright-eyed, eager. You hoped that wouldn’t work against you as you tried to convince him to break a couple of rules in the name of love. Marcus took the first crack at talking to him. You watched his eyes dart to the guy’s name tag before he walked up so he could address him by name. Marcus flashed him a smile when he looked up.
“Kevin, right? How’s it going today?”  You groaned internally. He was laying the charm on way too thick and, frankly, it was giving you second-hand embarrassment to watch. Kevin looked even more concerned, his eyes wide and fearful.
“Good, I guess, Agent um--” he spared an unsure look at his tag, pushing up his tortoiseshell glasses slightly, “Pike.”
“Great. I have a little favor to ask of you, Kevin. Would you be able to control and shut down an elevator for just a few minutes?” Kevin looked impossibly more frightened, his voice frantic and quick when he spoke.
“Is-- Is there a problem with the elevators? I can just--” his fingers hovered over the glass encased button that was labelled ‘elevator shut down’. You guessed it would be the button to lock down all of the elevators into their security threat mode. Not the goal of this endeavor. Marcus calmly stopped him.
“No, no. We don’t need it all shut down.” Kevin’s hand slowly retreated from the button. “We just need you to manipulate the elevators a little to get two people in one and have it shut down for just a couple of minutes.”
“But I’m only supposed to stop elevators in an emergency situation.” 
Oh yeah, this guy was fresh out of training. 
“You’re so right, Kevin. But this is an emergency.”
“What kind of emergency? If there’s a problem with security or the elevators I should already know about it,” he shook his head, “I don’t know about this. I don’t want to get fired.” 
Marcus sighed. He was going to have to change his approach. He was not anticipating the security guard for the day being a new hire that he didn’t know and who cared this much about the rulebook still. That usually didn’t last long. There were few major security threats coming into the building that the agents inside didn’t already know about. When you work security for a building already filled with FBI, your job is surprisingly uneventful. When your job is that uneventful, you tend to start being willing to fudge the rules a little. Marcus had counted on that. He leaned an elbow on the security desk. 
“Have you ever been in love, Kevin?” Marcus’s eyes almost had a sparkle to them when he spoke, the charm really kicking in. Kevin bought it, he shrugged, a little bit of a blush forming on his cheeks. 
“Yeah… Maybe… I guess.”
“Great. Then you’ll understand what we’re trying to do. How did you meet this potential love of yours?”
“I met him in college four years ago. We’re struggling through long-distance now, but I think we’ll make it work.”
“That’s beautiful.” Marcus’s smile was genuine, despite the over-acting of much of the rest of the conversation. “The reason we’re here is that we have two friends who were both in love-- much like you are-- but they both got their hearts broken. So we’re trying to set them up with each other.”
“And you need me to--?”
“We’re gonna tell them both to come down here. We need you to make sure they end up in the same elevator and then shut it down. Just long enough to get them interested in each other.”
“A classic trope.” Kevin looked excited.
“Exactly,” Marcus grinned back, then looked to you, “See? He gets it.” You rolled your eyes.
“So will you help us, Kevin?” you pleaded. He bit his lip a moment, looking at the elevators on the screens in front of him and then back to you, considering his options. 
Does he aid in true love at the risk of his job?
“I’m in.”
Step 2: Text The Lonely Hearts
You and Marcus both had your phones at the ready with messages asking both friends to come downstairs, simply saying that you’d “explain when they got here.” What would you be explaining when they made it? Well, that was a then problem. That bridge would be crossed after you succeeded in bringing the lovebirds together. You counted down together.
“3… 2… 1... Send.” 
The messages notified that they were delivered and the two of you huddled around the screens with Kevin, closely observing the 6th and 7th floor elevator lobbies. 
Step 3: Meet Cute
Adrian made it to the elevator lobby of his floor first.
“That’s Adrian. Don’t let one stop on his floor, send one up to Wendy first,” Marcus called out.
Kevin hit a couple of buttons and all of the elevators passed Adrian by, one of them stopping at the 7th floor, waiting just for Wendy. She came on screen a minute later and the elevator opened for her the second she pressed the button. Then it made it its way down to the 6th floor, opening for Adrian. All three of you held your breath, watching as they both stood in separate corners of the elevator, both on their phones. 
“C’mon guys. You’re two hot young singles! Interact!” you groaned. “Alright Kevin. Do it.”
The elevator began to make its way down and then abruptly stopped at Kevin’s command. An alarm made a long beep and then the whole thing shut down, the emergency light kicking on. You had Kevin turn on the security camera audio that was usually muted, it was fuzzy, but just audible enough. 
But you didn’t even need to hear. The look on Wendy’s face said it all.
“Oh no. No no no no no,” you could hear her utter, her hands in a death grip on the metal bar on the back wall of the elevator. Adrian had looked startled before, but looked decidedly more startled at Wendy’s panic.
“Are-- are you ok?”
“Not really,” she gritted her teeth.
“It’ll be fine. I’ll just--” He hit the call button. Kevin let it ring. Wendy looked to be seconds away from hyperventilating.
“You didn’t think to mention the fact that Wendy is claustrophobic?” Marcus muttered to you.
“I didn’t know! How should I know that? Let’s get them out of there Ke--”
“Wait, wait. Look! Adrian is making a move,” Kevin interrupted, pointing your attention back to the screen that held his enraptured attention.
Adrian hesitantly stepped a little closer to Wendy. “Is it the enclosed space? It’s ok, it’s ok. We’re gonna get out of here. We’re totally safe. We just have to wait for them to get it fixed.” Wendy waved him off.
“Not helpful, but thanks,” she breathed, keeping her focus straight ahead.
Not a great start to the relationship.
“Alright,” Marcus sighed, running a hand down his face, “This isn’t working. Let them out, Kevin. We’ll have to figure something else out.”
Step 4: ???
Now what? 
This was only supposed to be three steps. Now they were both leaving the elevator and you were no closer to getting them together. All you did was give Wendy a panic attack. You and Marcus waited on opposite ends of the lobby, ready to receive your friends with bogus excuses as to why you called them down. Wendy practically knocked you down from how freaked out she still was, babbling about what had just ensued. You caught Marcus’s eye as you discussed separately with the two lonely hearts, the look you exchanged over their shoulders was a resounding “What do we do now?”
Time for a Plan B.
It needed to be foolproof this time.
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