#also i love rick flag i feel that is a given

[rollypoliesonarock]

No one asked, but here's a vest tour! I've added a bunch since I last talked about it here, so here's the update!

Here's the full front and back

Most of this I made myself. The patches were mostly made by hand embroidery (anything machine done was probably given to me as a gift), with the exception of a couple that were just markers on white fabric.

Under the decorative patches is also a layer of random fabric patches, mostly from leftover projects scrap fabric, or old clothes I didn't know what to do with.

There's also some random paint splashes in green and red, and a ton of pop tabs and safety pins thrown around in empty spaces.

The pins I made were made from painted bottle caps, and held on with a pop tab and safety pin combo, with the edges of the bottle cap bent to hold it in place

The vest itself I got from a family member's friend, and said family member didn't want it. So she gave it to me to put patches on. I used it as a formal jacket for a year, but I didn't like how the sleeves felt, so I cut them off and ended up putting patches on it anyway. I've been working on this vest since last January, but many of the patches and stuff were transferred from my old jacket that I have other plans for, but that's for a different post.

Inside, plus the snack pouch

so much white embroidery floss, I'm surprised I'm still able to scrape up some in my embroidery floss drawer

Front top left (from the perspective of someone looking at me)

Gay frog pin is the only pin I own I paid for, I found all the rest for free from various events and also the library likes giving people free pins

Front top right

Got the Vulpix pin from some random lady at the empanada restaurant because she liked my nerdy jacket. A few months ago I reconnected with an old friend, who recognized the art style. So that's kinda neat

Front bottom left

I used to have the heart/brain patch sewn on an older jacket (that is no longer with us). I am never attempting to stick a needle through that thing again. Easily my most painful patch I own. Also a little keychain ring so I can clip stuff to my vest

Front bottom right

The worm's name is wormy, named by my friend who loves him. Wormy has been through a lot, and before finding a safe home on my vest, rotated between being a room decoration and a cat toy

The hotelier patch (the house on the pocket) is probably my favorite music based patch I've made. I spent way too much time on it, but I think it turned out nice in the end!

Back top

the trans flag section in the center is my favorite part. The peace was never an option patch is usually peoples favorite, and I get compliments on it regularly. It's hard to see, but the patch at the bottom left of the flag is the chemical formula for testosterone

Back bottom left

The QR code is a Rick roll, and also fully functional. When I made it, a picture of it was floating around between my friends between various group chats. I had one friend who tried to go to lengths to avoid getting tricked, until one of his friends sent him the picture, and he actually scanned it before realizing it's the QR code on my back. He was (jokingly) upset at me the next day. I want to make another qr code to a song I like more, but that one took longer than most my other patches do, so I'm not sure it's worth it.

Back bottom right

The Kos-mos patch (blue haired girl on left) is my favorite non music patch on here. It just feels like one of my most well made patches. Not much to say here, I just like the patch a lot

So yeah, that's my vest. No clue how many patches are actually on this, or how many hours I've put into this thing already, but it's probably a high number whatever it is.

If this gets at least 0.5 notes Ill talk about my other patch stuff, of which I've got a lot of.

[rickfucker]

What positive influences do you think a really good, loving relationship would have on Rick and his behavior? 🥺

i must feed my children before the premiere >:)

You’ve probably heard the phrase, “hurt people hurt people.” I think that a lot of rick’s negative feelings towards love (other than the obvious) have to do with feeling constantly rejected. Not just romantically, but from his friends and family, as well. He may be charming and charismatic, but he’s also cold, rude, argumentative, and a walking red flag. It’s clear our rick hasn’t had a significant relationship since his wife (or birdperson), and I have to assume that’s the case across the multiverse.

For you to make it past the hard exterior he portrays, you’d have to be damn patient. When you’ve been around long enough, he will push you away, because he expects that you’ll do the same eventually. Better to leave than to be left. When you refuse his behavior and the fact that you won’t stop until he has an honest conversation with you about why, he gets annoyed. Then angry. Then, confused.

In fact, I’d say those couple emotions cycle consistently when you do nice things for him, or look at him with affection, or compliment him, or are honest when he inevitably asks you why you even like him. His god complex and insecurity are constantly at odds with each other. Obviously you want to be with him; he’s a genius sexpert who can take you to space, for fucks sake. But in that same vein, he’s paranoid that it’s the only reason. 

& actually to answer the ask, your kindness towards him & patience with the relationship slowly make him realize that he’s a gigantic asshole. He already knows this, obviously, but now he feels something about it. He feels bad. When he snaps, yells, insults, or generally hurts your feelings, and then gets drunk to tell you he’s sorry, you forgive him. He harbors this guilt because he sees his behavior as something he can’t or supposedly doesn’t want to change. The more his partner reassures him that it’s okay (i mean, the pain in this man is palpable) and that you’ll be around when he’s ready to unpack all that, the safer he feels in the relationship. It translates to the other relationships he has, too, as he starts to really take note of the way his family (inconsiderate and like him as they can be) hasn’t given up on him, either.

Some of the most important things a person needs when recovering from trauma are feeling safe, having a support system, and confronting the negative self beliefs your trauma has instilled in you. He’s unlovable, he’s a failure, he only wants what he can’t have. These are things he thinks about himself subconsciously, and as love and comfort overtake what was once a lonely, pointless waste of space, he finds himself wanting to finally confide in you.

I think the thing about feeling safe for the first time in a long time is that all of worst feelings you were able to push down and away (due to the focus being on surviving the situation and not your own brain) become impossible to ignore. Those feelings need to go somewhere, and even though the happiness and comfort of a loving relationship terrifies the shit out of him, he doesn’t want to be miserable anymore. He didn’t realize how absolutely miserable he was because he didn’t know it could get better.

I have a lot of thoughts about trauma and the process of healing. Rick will never be the perfect man, he’ll probably never go to therapy long term to learn all of those sick coping skills, (he’ll probably still drink bc autism) but he likes himself more as the person who’s trying to be better than the person who refused to. Mostly because he loves seeing you happy because of him.

[soft-for-them]

I don't know a thing about love - Daryl Dixon x plus size non-binary reader

Summary: A Daryl x plus size non-binary reader based off the song 'I don't know a thing about love' by the White Buffalo.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/N: This is both a non-binary reader and a plus size reader, so cis people this isn't for you. The reader has been left vague because this is a short fic and not all plus size non-binary people are afab (really, it's real problem with authors, non-binary people aren't women!) This is coming from your very own non-binary/queer op. 👍

Everyone knows that you and Daryl Dixon are partners but everyone also knows that your relationship, or lack thereof, is complicated.

It’s clear you love each other, Rick or Carl could tell you (with various amounts of excitement) about the first time the two of you met, how Daryl’s eye widened, how you smiled like you had be given the sun and moon.

From the very start of joining Rick’s group you had it hard. Having to explain to people that you’re non-binary and not a man or woman was hard, both for yourself because you were coming out again to complete strangers and for them for most of the group aren’t queer.

Carl got it straight away, he happily used your preferred pronouns and asked you many questions most of which weren’t about being trans but where about random this like comic books and how your survived.

Rick, Carol, Glenn and Maggie learnt quickly too whilst the rest took their time getting used to someone so different to their heteronormative life.

Maybe it was because living people are hard to come by, maybe it’s because most of the bigots of the group had met their grizzly end but somehow you feel safer with Rick’s little rag tag group of survivors then the people you house shared with before the apocalypse arose.

Then there’s Daryl.

Now don’t get me wrong, the first few weeks of you joining Rick’s crew he didn’t talk to you, he just stared at you. He was raised by bigoted people and he was trying to be better, before the end of times even began he was trying to be better. He wasn’t racist or homophobic like his dad or brother nor did he go out his way to antagonise anyone (for he isn’t Merle after all) but still he was learning.

He was drawn to you, it made him panic just a bit but he has long realised that he isn’t so straight, that he identifies with both Bisexual, Pansexual and Queer, that he didn’t need a label for one he loves you and two who fucking cares.

But still it took a long time to come to terms with, thankfully you were there with him to help.

He remembers one day when you still were new and everyone was still stuck in the prison out the blue he asked about your jacket, an oversized black denim jacket sparsely covered in handmade patches.

You told him about the small amount of patches that you had; a non-binary flag on the breast pocket, an anti-Nazi patch on your arm, two ridged band patches that really should have been ironed on instead of sew on dotted around, tin badges decorating the collar like a jewelled necklace.

Over the years the jacket has evolved like he has, both have become more outward and full of love.

Daryl still cracks a smile at the back patch adorning your jacket made out of an old t-shirt of Carl’s that depicted a superhero dog.

You and Daryl talk, sleep close, sneak kisses when people aren’t looking, go hunting together, laugh at each other’s silly jokes. You’re out going and talkative whilst he stands back quiet and stoic his eyes always filled with love for you. You share clothes like it’s nothing, he loves holding you close at night the feeling of your plush body against his better than any bed or pillow, he knows you in and out, as do you for him.

But somehow still the two of you have never breached the subject of how much you love each other, you’ve neither had the conversation trying to figure out what to call one another.

Well not until today.

Sitting idly on the front porch of a nice enough house in Alexandria you work away under the watchful eye of your lover.

It was no surprise that you and Daryl were put together in the same home, neither is it a surprise that you both sit so close as the sky starts to turn orange, the sun slowly setting and the moon rising into the sky.

Knees touching, you carefully try to stick on a new patch onto your jacket next to one of many pride flags you’ve acclimated over the years.

Daryl leans over watching you quietly sew wonky stitches, his face almost pressed to the side of your round cheek.

“You know what Daryl?” you whisper, eyes flickering up to look up at him.

He just hums out a yes.

“When I first met you I didn’t know anything about love, I don’t think I fully know a thing about love now but with you I- I well-“ you face goes warm, your fingers stop sewing as he looks up at you with sparkling eyes, “-I think I’m learning because of you.”

He just stares at you for a moment, shock and what you assume is love morphing his face into a sweet smile.

That moment disappears as he leans down and kisses you, his chapped lips gentle on yours, your hands dropping your handiwork on your lap to hold his face in place.

You pull away first but still hold onto him with pin pricked hands, eye still connected staring like a fool at him, happiness flooding through your bodies.

“For years I was told I’d never find love because of who I am-“ you begin again still in a whisper, the thoughts of the long dead people who said such cruel things being pushed away by the many memories of your and Daryl.

You push a piece of his long brown hair back from his face, you smile growing big and proud.

“- but I had been looking for love below and above despite all the dead roaming around and then there you were.”

He lets out a small chuckle, one that isn’t filled with malice like old lovers did but one filled with a joy you’ve only seen for yourself.

“Do you?” he asks covering your wondering hands with his, “Because I do, I love you.”

“So many eyes in the world are searching for love and somehow I find you, of course I love you Daryl.”

The two of you laugh together as you kiss again, the set of wings you were stitching onto your jacket fully discarded as the kiss deepens.

[romancomicsblog]

Who should play Omni-Man in a live action Invincible?

Whether you are an avid watcher of Invincible or not, at this point you probably know the character of Omni-Man through the zeitgeist, merchandise, or memes.

Since JK Simmons interpretation of the character, Omni-Man has sky rocketed into popularity. The incredible villain was a major part of Invincible's success, giving us a very violent, angry and conflicted performance from Simmons.

Given there will be a live action film, currently in the works from Allen the Alien actor Seth Rogen, I thought I'd throw some names in the mix who I think could be potentially great Omni-Men.

Warning: This will contain spoilers from Seasons 1 & 2 of Invincible so be warned!

Who can't be Omni-Man?

Before we get started into who could, I am gonna limit myself a bit. Let's start with the obvious, JK Simmons is too old. He's fantastic, and I love his version, but he can't be Nolan. Might I suggest Conquest, Art, or best of all, Cecil?

I also have no intention of picking actors who have played Superman. So Henry Cavill, Brandon Routh, etc, no dice.

Also in general, I'm gonna try to avoid actors who already have an iconic performance as a superhero character. So actors like Hugh Jackman, Ben Affleck and others won't be on this list either.

And finally, I've seen the fancasts of both Jon Hamm and Nick Offerman. Frankly I like both. But I think we can do better.

What are Nolan Grayson's Physical Characteristics?

Omni-Man needs to feel like the most dangerous man in the room AND the world's greatest hero. It's a very delicate balance to pull.

I'd prefer someone over 6 ft tall, with a background in both heroic and menacing roles.

Nolan is a viltrumite, meaning he could be any race or ethnicity.

If he can rock a mustache, even better.

I'm looking for an actor in their late 30s to early 50s. We have a little room to work with as his age is slower, but someone in their 40s is most preferable.

Let's get into it.

3. Colin Farrell

Starting off our list is the original Bullseye himself Colin Farrell. Though he is a little bit shorter than I would like at 5'10, Farrell brings experience, skill and likeability to Nolan, which is very necessary if we want to portray him as a good guy.

What really sold me on him is actually Saving Mr Banks, where he plays a sympathetic, problematic father who truly loves his children. That sympathy can go a long way for Omni-Man.

Where he doesn't sell me is the ruthlessness of Nolan, nor does he feel like he can be a very threatening villain. He did play a fun one, namely the Penguin in The Batman.

Really my main concern is The Penguin, as he is returning for his show and likely The Batman Part II. I'd prefer someone not as known for wearing the costume of such an iconic character.

2. Joel Edgerton

I feel like everyone forgets about good ol reliable Joel Edgerton.

If we want a villain with brutality, Edgerton can bring it. He can rock a mustache, he's played multiple convincing villains and could really make the role his own. He's held his own against power houses like DiCaprio and Maguire in Gatsby.

He's even played a few good guys, namely Uncle Owen in Obi-Won Kenobi.

The great thing about Edgerton is he falls so deep in the role, people forget it's him. It may be good to have an actor smaller than the role he's playing, but with a skill to match Simmons.

My main concern is very simple, he's 5'10". I'm sure we can make him seem bigger, but other than, he seems evil, untrustworthy. He often plays characters who are darker or troubled. Can he play 100% heroic? Or atleast faking heroic?

I think he'd do a fantastic job, but there's one more guy I'm itching to see put on the red and white.

1. Joel Kinnaman

Takeshi Kovacs. Rick Flag. Alex Murphy.

Joel Kinnaman is one of my favorite actors working today.

I think Kinnaman has both the intensity and heroic nature to be a perfect Nolan. At 44, he is in the perfect age range we want. He is 6'2", and while I admit he is leaner than I would like, bulking up to play Nolan I think is very possible.

He's got a great voice, can rock a mustache, play a convincing father, and has never truly donned a cape. He'd make a fantastic villain in a movie, and an even better hero once he joins the Coalition of Planets.

I think he'd add a different enough performance while being able to stand up to a great actor like Simmons. Joel Kinnaman is my ideal Omni-Man.

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider following, and check out my socials and other sites here! And let me know: Who do you want to see play Omni-Man in a live action Invincible?

[practically-an-x-man]

3, 43, 51, 62 for that ask game

Thank you so much!!

Ask Game for Fic Writers

3. on a scale of 1-10 how much do you enjoy incorporating romance into the average story?

Hm... obviously a lot of my fics involve romance in some way or another, just because I think there are so many ways it can take shape and I love exploring those different dynamics. So for fanfics... maybe an 8 out of 10 - romance is by no means a requirement for a good fic, but I just think it's fun, especially when you can look at the ships and say "Hey, Eris and Rick love each other, and Jasper and Kyle love each other, but they love each other in completely different ways"

But in terms of all my stories, both fanfic and original, it's more like 3-4 out of 10. I still like writing romance, but my original writing is a lot more sci-fi, horror, or modern fantasy, only a few of which have a major romantic plotline.

It's really only fanfic where romance is so ubiquitous in my writing, my original stories have some very different vibes.

43. how did writing change you?

Oooh man...

So on a more serious note, writing has kept me alive. I've pushed through some of my darkest moments with the knowledge that if I don't get this story finished, nobody will ever be able to read it because it otherwise exists only in my head. It's why I keep so many active WIPs even when I can never update them on schedule - as long as I have a story waiting for its ending, I have at least one reason to keep going.

On a less serious note, it's changed how I look at the world. When my mind wanders, I find myself mentally describing what's around me, or coming up with snippets of description or dialogue (either for my stories or just standalone bits). I also have gotten a lot better at categorizing my thoughts and emotions, since I find it easier to put words to those feelings.

51. share the synopsis of a story you work on that you haven’t published yet

Hm... I can't really call this a WIP since I haven't even written out a full outline yet, but I picked an idea at random from my ideas list and here's my attempt at a synopsis:

Christina "Chris" Carver can see the future. It comes in pieces, illogical flashes that overtake their entire body at the most inopportune of moments. When they experience such an episode in the middle of a crowded subway station - mere moments before a devastating bombing that costs dozens of lives - their life is upturned in a complex legal struggle that they can't seem to fight their way out of. How do you prove the existence of foresight? They're going to need a really good lawyer.

(it's been a while since I looked at this OC and I think they're due for a bit of a revamp, but the plot is one of my more dynamic ideas)

62. what’s the weirdest reason you’ve ever shipped something?

Oooh man... I'm not sure. Most of my OCs and those ships come from these sort of "what if?" opposites - what if Mister Morals Rick Flag was met with someone with an incredibly flexible moral code? What if Peter Maximoff was forced to slow down and pay attention? What if Alex Summers, a man who mocked physical mutations, was given a partner who develops extreme physical mutations herself? What if Wojchek, a sailor with a lot of superstitions, ended up in a relationship with one of his own old sailor's tales? And so on and so forth. I don't know that any of those are weird, it's usually just an element of the character that I want to draw out and focus on.

And all of my canon-character ships are fairly run-of-the-mill, I think? At least, I can't think of any that are super out-there or have a particularly weird reason behind them.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Oooh I just spotted the character headcanons! So, for Rick Flag how about: ☆ ♦ ▼

Oh yay!!! Thank you for the ask, Katy!!! I absolutely ADORE doing HCs and as you know I've been in my Rick feels again lately 😘 I hope you enjoy these!

Happy Rick Headcannon:

Rick doesn’t get along with most people (at least not right off the bat), but he absolutely adores dogs. He has never met one he didn’t like.

He was never allowed to have a dog growing up because he moved so often and they were never sure if their new place would allow animals. Then while in the Army, he is gone so often it's not fair to keep a dog in a kennel for that long. However, he sets up an arrangement with his elderly neighbor once he gets his more stable position at Belle Reve where whenever he is home, he walks her dog for her. He makes it seem like he is doing it to be nice and help her out but in reality, it is one of the simple pleasures he enjoys in life and is almost therapeutic for all the terrible stuff he experiences in his job.

Rick Hobbies Headcannon:

Rick is one of those people when he has free time he is either extremely active and moving non-stop or he is horizontal on the couch all day with a bag of chips and six beers. 

On days where he is active, he usually gets up just before dawn and goes for a brief three-mile run. Then he grabs a quick breakfast that he can eat on the go and depending on where he is located at the moment, he’ll seek out some sort of recreational activity. When he is in DC or anywhere close to the ocean, he spends most of the day at the beach surfing or swimming. When he’s in the mountains and it’s snowy, he goes snowboarding or skiing. Just things that keep both his body and mind active and distracted from the mental and physical toll he’s taken from his latest mission.

On the days where he finally hits the wall and decides to rest, he barely moves the entire day. The extent of his walking is from the bed to the couch to the bathroom to the couch to the refrigerator to the couch to the front door for his food delivery to the couch to bed. He uses this time to catch up on sports he DVRed while he was gone (mostly football) or binge some trashy reality shows. Sometimes when Harley is out of prison, he invites her over and they commentate the latest episodes of the Real Housewives or The Bachelor. 

Rick Childhood Headcannon:

Rick is fourth generation military so when he was young, he moved around a lot as his father was deployed to different places. While most of the time it was different locations in the southern US (Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, etc), he also lived in Germany and Italy for a short time. It taught him to absorb as much as he could from his environment while he could while also not getting too attached to the people around him because he would be leaving again soon anyway (something that made him initially standoffish with the ever-shifting members of Task Force X years later). 

Rick admired his father and viewed him as an American hero who he strived to be like one day, but his mother was his whole world. Because his father was gone so much, his mother was basically a single mom for long stretches of time. She couldn’t have a career of her own with all their constant moving at a moment's notice, so she would find retail or waitress jobs where ever they ended up (Rick loved whenever she worked as a waitress because she would always sneak him home some food at the end of her shifts). Even at a young age, Rick realized how hard his mother worked to keep things going and she never complained when his father came home to say they were moving again, so he always tried to do whatever he could to make life easier for her whether that was cleaning the house, doing the grocery shopping, cooking meals, etc. 

Rick’s father was killed in action when he was 14. Because of this, he was given a scholarship from the government to go to a prestigious military school for all of high school. He almost turned it down because he felt guilty leaving his mother all alone, but she knew how much Rick wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps so she insisted he go. He came back to see her every chance he could (vacations, summers, etc) and she was there in the front row when he graduated at the top of his class a few years later. 

Headcannon Meme

[poppitron360]

Ok. Ok. You wanna start a debate? That’s fine.

1. Idc whether Leonidas is Leo’s real name or just a nickname, she’s still calling him a name he asked to not be called, which is incredibly disrespectful and just plain shitty. You, like the narrative, have completely ignored the object of the post, which is to point out the red flags in the relationship.

The reason why it’s called a “red flag” is because it’s big and bright and shouldn’t be ignored. “Red” connotes danger. This behaviour is a sign of something bad. Don’t gloss over it.

2. I know that Leo also doesn’t treat her the best. This is your argument telling me that I should ship them?

Saying “oh but Leo does it too” doesn’t actually excuse the behaviour, and you’ve even admitted that this kind of treatment doesn’t respect boundaries and isn’t okay.

3. I am not “hating on Calypso just because”. I have literally just given you at least two reasons in that post why I “hate on” her. That is far from “just because”.

They’re toxic- bordering on abusive- she treats Leo like dirt, and actively tells him she hates him. I know it’s played as banter but there’s a line and I feel like they crossed it. Not to mention she’s thousands of years older than him (In TOA it talks about it being iffy if Lester dated teenagers, so why is it not the same for Cal, who is old enough to be Apollo’s babysitter?) and in the original myth dated heros much older than Leo or Percy.

They just make me so uncomfortable, so sorry if I don’t wanna root for them as a couple.

4. Do I really need justification to dislike something? I can give you several, and I did in that post- but I shouldn’t actually have to prove to you my reason to hate things. So yes, I can hate on Cal “just because” if I wanted to- even though, as stated above, that is not what I’m doing.

If you don’t like it, just keep on scrolling. Did you really think that saying “stop doing that” would legitimately make me stop doing it? When in the history of the gods’ green earth has THAT ever happened on the Internet?

5. The whole point of my og post was to lay out a concise argument why they’re toxic, using reasoning and evidence from the text. You haven’t actually given me a reason why they’re a good ship, just pointing out that Leo is shitty to her too. Actually give me a reason to like them, with analysis, supported by evidence from the text, and maybe I’ll hear you out. But right now, you haven’t given me a reason to not hate them.

6. My main gripe with Caleo is that, not only are they toxic, but the way the narrative is written doesn’t explicitly paint that as a bad thing. And since this is a series aimed at children, I’m very conscious of the fact that the lesson that kids will take away from this is “Hey you can’t have a “happy ending” unless you find your life partner at sixteen- and it doesn’t matter if they treat you poorly because anything’s better than being single!!” Because that’s a narrative that’s been pushed for centuries by this stupid amatonormative society, and Rick is just part of the problem.

It sounds ludicrous, I know, but that’s what I grew up believing from the books I read and the movies I saw. As a teenager, I tried to push myself into this mould of “happiness” that I thought was right, instead of sitting myself down and trying to realise what would make me actually happy.

Frozen got it right by teaching kids how to spot red flags, instead of telling them to ignore them for the sake of “true love”

And if you didn’t want to start a discussion then why’d you comment?

Thinking about names having power in the Riordanverse- because it’s exactly the kind of literature motif that I LOVE.

Thinking about “Leo” being short for “Leonidas” who was a Spartan King who sacrificed his life fighting to save his people in the Battle of Thermopylae.

Leo, similarly, gave his own life to stop Gaea and save the world.

That comparison has already been made before, but there’s more-

Leo rejects the name “Leonidas” and chooses to go by “Leo”- in a way, rejecting the fate he’s assigned to. And he doesn’t suffer that fate in the end. He lives.

Yeah, names have power. But what you choose to name yourself has even more power. For example, the fact that Thalia rejected the last name “Grace” because it associated her with her mother, but then taking it back up again when she found out Jason was alive. And Leo chose to not go by “Leonidas” and he also chose to take the physician’s cure and come back.

And here we get onto what Calypso’s doing. By calling him something that he asked to not be called, she is taking away that agency of choice. She is taking away that power.

It’s a small moment, but it REALLY bugs me. Because, like Leo, I go by a shortened version of a longer name, and often one of the ways bullies used to hold power over me was by calling me by my full name repeatedly, even after I asked them to stop. It’s also a way a lot of transphobes hold power over trans people- by deadnaming. By taking away the power of their name, their choice, their identity, who they are, who they’ve built themselves to be, and their right to control all of that.

Now, I’m NOT saying Calypso is going as far as deadnaming Leo, but it’s a similar premise. It’s a manipulation tactic used to knock people down.

Now friendly nicknames -e.g. “Seaweed Brain”- are different, because Percy consents to it. It’s a term of affection between them (and notice how it’s different when Thalia used it. It’s a name that symbolises percabeth’s love, and it’s a name only Annabeth can use). But this is a name, while said in a jokey, banter-y manner, that Leo has SPECIFICALLY ASKED to not be called. And she does it anyway, ignoring the boundary he’s set, ignoring his choice to shape his own identity, ignoring everything that symbolised INCLUDING the fact that it’s literally Leo saying “I choose life” by rejecting the name that fated him to death. It’s just a big red flag for me. And if you put that on top of the fact that she also physically hurt him in this (enough to make him say “ow”) then you just get a whole host of Reasons Why This is NOT Leo’s “Happy Ending”- which the narrative paints it out to be.

[prince-septimus]

I just read your Rick Flag imagine, I can't help but read him in everything as Stephen Holder to me Stephen Holder had maybe one more case with Linden and she retired and chilled the fuck out cuz that lady woah does she need and deserve a break and some peace. and holder was like yup cannot be a detective anymore too many people suspiciously dropping dead all the time fuck this shit I'm out and cuz he has poor survival skills and is permanently bored he becomes a solider releases he likes it and is good at his job then oh shit scary boss lady Mandy gets him and now he's stuck babysitting the people who are most likely the causes of the suspicious and frequent deaths and he calls Linden just to be like Yo Linden I made a bad choice should've got a desk job.

I did not know the suicide squad is out tomorrow ! ! Imo Mandy and obviously diablo was the best part of the first one. I'm literally only interested in watching the movie cuz of harley that's basically it Mandy is a massive bonus and I kinda wanna see peter capaldi and arm fall off boy has gotta be fun, is katana gonna be in it? She should get her own movie she was so good in the last one

listen babe this was a wild ass ask to read. i also had to look up what you were talking about and tbh, had no idea this show existed but it sounds exactly like something id like

anyway im super psyched for the suicide squad. i think its gonna be so good. i read an article earlier that said katana is not in it but they have so many more interesting characters that i think it'll be fine. im super excited to see more of harley but im particularly excited about them bringing captain boomerang back bc i have the biggest crush on jai courtney. im terrified they'll kill him off but i think i'll still enjoy the movie no matter what!!

[7-wonders]

The Betrayal (Adrian Chase)

Summary: You find out the truth about what happened to your brother, Rick Flag, at the worst possible time.

Word Count: 2.0k

Notes: This is my first actual Adrian fic! Very angsty, of course, because writing about death is always going to come with angst. Um, warnings for Peacemaker's racist father, talks of death, Adrian being his sociopathic self. Let me know if you guys liked this, wanna see more, or whatever. Would love to chat more about Vigilante; my inbox is always open!

Also should I do an Adrian taglist? IDK let me know that too ig

You've tried to keep your emotions in check in this truck that's stolen from a veterinarian's office, knowing that there's a time for settling personal differences, and that time's not while you're technically on the clock. But as Adebayo tries to apologize about the betrayal of planting a fake diary among Peacemaker's trailer, the words from butterfly-Locke's press conference continue to play over and over in your head.

"In the diary, Smith also confesses to the murder of decorated US Army Colonel Rick Flag, whose death on a covert mission in Corto Maltese was originally believed to be accidentally caused by the collapse of a building known as Jötunheim."

You need to know. A part of you already knows that this is true, what with the way that Chris has been avoiding directly talking to you since the press conference aired. But still, you need it said out loud. Did Chris kill Rick? Was his death not what you were led to believe?

"Actually Chris, I give a fuck," you say, speaking up for the first time all afternoon. "Let's keep talking about this."

Adebayo rolls her eyes. "Not you, too."

"Shut up. Is it true?" You turn your attention on Peacemaker, who looks like he doesn't know what you're referencing. For a second, you think that maybe this was also one of many lies that the diary contained. "Is it true that you killed Rick?"

His face falls, and the breath escapes you all at once. Suddenly, it feels like the day that you found out Rick died all over again.

"It is. Oh fuck, it's true," you say.

"He was going to expose Project Starfish to the world," Peacemaker explains quietly, "and my mission was to make sure that information didn't get out."

"You murdered my brother!" He stares straight ahead, and the only sign of any emotion is the slight trembling in his jaw. "He trusted you. You were his teammate, his fellow soldier, and you murdered him."

Adrian says your name gently, putting a hand on your shoulder to try and defuse the situation from where he's sitting next to you, but there's no going back now. Not when you're seeing red and staring at the man who ripped Rick from your life.

"How did you do it?" you ask, standing up and shoving him in the chest. He doesn't move, but it feels good while you do it. "Did you look at him while he died? Actually, no. I wanna know his last words. What did he say while you watched him die?"

"If it makes you feel better, Rick called Chris a joke," Economos mutters from the front of the truck in what he must think is a reassurance.

Harcourt groans. "Dude, seriously?" You can hardly hear it, though, over the ringing in your ears.

“Oh my god. You knew?” Your voice doesn’t come out nearly as strong as you want it to be, so you walk up to the front to make sure you can confront them directly. “You knew that Peacemaker killed Rick, and you didn’t say anything to me?”

Economos is the first of the two to speak up. “We were given direct orders to—”

“As if you haven’t disobeyed Amanda Waller’s direct orders before. In fact, you disobeyed her orders on that very mission! That's how you ended up here in the first place.” You scoff before turning on Harcourt. “You’re my roommate, Emilia. My friend. You’ve comforted me when I’ve cried about how much I miss Rick, and this whole time…”

"I wanted to tell you," Harcourt says, finally looking at you, "but it just...was never the right time. When was I supposed to bring up that Chris did what he did?"

"I don't know, maybe when I started to trust him? I've been on the same team with the fuckhead who killed Rick without any sort of remorse, and you guys just—just let me go along without knowing the truth!"

They want to try and apologize, you're sure, or at least try to redeem themselves, but you're done. You're completely and utterly done. Turning on your heel, you ignore the way that Adebayo tries to get your attention, and how Chris still refuses to look away from the point on the wall that he's been staring at, and even Adrian when he grabs at your hand. You don't know who knows or doesn't know, and at this point you have no choice but to assume that they were all in on this. Instead, you sit at the very back of the truck, as far away from everybody else as you can be, turn your back on them, and cry as silently as you can.

The team awkwardly tries to resume their regular banter once you arrive at the farm where the cow's being kept, but it's a little hard for humor and sarcasm to land when you can't even look them in the eye. The only one that you're not mad at is Eagly, and even he pisses you off when he naturally doesn't follow commands and drops Peacemaker's sonic boom helmet in the middle of the woods.

"So, how did you find out?" you finally ask Adrian as the two of you work at searching your designated area to find the helmet, the team paired together in twos to fan out through the forest. "Was it as accidental as you joining the team? Or was it something funny for you and Chris to laugh at when he recounted all the people he's killed in the name of 'peace'?"

"I didn't know, actually."

"Oh." You sigh. "Sorry for assuming you knew."

"It's okay. Kinda seemed like I would know, considering Peacemaker's my best friend and all."

You laugh sharply. "Don't tell me you're bitter about not knowing my brother was murdered."

"Yikes, sorry, that was—" he grimaces, "that didn't come out the way that I meant it."

"I get it. My attempt at a joke, I guess."

It's quiet for a few minutes, both of you focused on finding a glint of chrome among the leaves. Finally, you feel like you need to speak. Be it the silence or the fact that Adrian's the only one you can still trust: once the words start, they don't stop.

"It's been a hard few months since Rick died. And then I go on this mission because it's the type of thing that Rick would do, and I start making connections and bonding with the absolute weirdest fucking people I've ever met. Soon enough, I can make it through the day without crying, and it feels like I can finally breathe again. And smile again. And laugh again.

"And now this shit, with the butterflies attacking and Peacemaker's Nazi dad trying to kill us and finding out that my friend killed Rick and my other friends knew about it. I should be mad, but I just keep thinking that I can't be mad, because Rick wouldn't be mad. He was always infuriatingly calm, even when he had every right to get angry."

"Hey, don't cry again," Adrian says awkwardly, removing his mask in what he probably thinks is a comforting way. "C'mon, stand up."

You're about to question what he's seeing when you realize that you're crying again, on your knees in the middle of the forest. Of course, the one person who knows nothing about emotions is the one that you're having a breakdown in front of. Naturally, this makes you cry harder.

In a repeat of earlier, Adrian makes stiff movements and pats your shoulder. "Gentle, nice touching."

"It didn't work with Chris, and it's not gonna work with me," you say, smiling up at him. "Thanks for the effort though."

"Your brother wouldn't want you to be sad." You know he probably saw this on Fargo, but it surprisingly does help.

"I know. But he's also the one who's dead, and he doesn't have to deal with this," you wave your hands in front of you, "this mess that he left behind. He left me here, and now I have to watch my mom be a shell of a person, and how my dad can't say Rick's name without crying. I don't even have Rick to confide in."

"I know what it's like to lose someone," Adrian says, finally sitting down next to you. "My dad left my mom for a dude. We haven't really heard from him in years."

"Damn," you let out a low whistle. "That's rough."

"It's okay, they're very much in love. The whole divorce was really rough for my mom, though. I know it's not the same as someone dying, but I lost my dad, and then I had to watch my mom deal with that. It sucks. I wish I could say something better than 'it gets better', but I can't, because it does. It just...gets better, for everyone involved."

"I'm not forgiving Chris," you say adamantly.

"Nobody said you had to forgive him, or the others." Somehow, that makes you feel better than anything else Adrian's said. You've already been feeling the pressure to forgive him for this heinous thing, and forgive the others for lying about their knowledge of what Chris had done. Even though the outside party giving you permission to feel your feelings is a sociopath, he's still someone whose opinion you care about.

"Thanks, Adrian." Adrian stiffens next to you when you lay your head on his shoulder in thanks, and you stifle a laugh. He's been helpful today. You'll laugh about it tomorrow. "Y'know, you're actually pretty good at giving advice."

"I learned it all from Fargo."

Now you do laugh. "Knew it."

Your comms suddenly crackle to life, and Harcourt gives the news that she and Peacemaker found the helmet. Adrian hops to his feet and, after a moment, offers his hand to help you up. "You ready to go?" he asks.

Dusting yourself off, you look up at him while he slips his mask on and nods. There's a time and a place for you to continue to work through this mess, but that's after getting out of the other, more deadly mess. "Let's go kill us a fucking cow."

[babblydrabbly]

you don't have to be more | digger harkness x reader

Digger Harkness x F!Reader Characters: Digger Harkness, Harley Quinn, Rick Flag, Floyd Lawton, Richard Hertz. Warnings: FLUFF. Hurt/comfort if you squint. Language. Canon-Typical Violence. Cuddling. Kissing. Some grinding ngl. Wordcount: 6.5k+ [ A/N: For this request. Oh god, you probably wanted more fluff than this. I truly don't know what came over me. Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writer for betaing ♥️ ily Also, trying out new headers! Since poor Digger doesn't have too many gifs. But I'm still including text titles at the top so anyone who uses text to voice can know wtf is happening. ] My Masterlist

Anonymous Asked: Please can I request some pining boomer, I need this tough ass to go absurdly soft at reader and have the others roast him for it.

You've spent more than half your life as a vigilante named Night Shade. After a frame job lands you in Belle Reve, you get put on the Suicide Squad almost immediately. Digger Harkness is his usual self around you— and you don't really mind. You never have.

At first, he doesn’t recognize you.

You stand with your arms folded over your chest, your back to the wall of the tent as Colonel Flag goes over the mission objective laid out on a large table. They’d given you your full suit back, but here, at Belle Reve, you’ve held off on putting your armor and mask on until they ship you out.

Digger had tuned out the Colonel’s introductions for the new recruits. He didn’t bother with figuring out who was who anymore. Plenty came and went. It seemed like he, Harley, and just a few others were ever lucky enough to survive mission after mission.

But he does notice your perpetual scowl; how your lips draw down into a tight, pouty little frown, and Digger just can’t resist.

He joins you as everyone exits the airfield tent, wind picking up as the helicrafts start up their engines.

“First go, eh?” He hollers over the whirling blades. You glance over at him.

“What?” You say back.

“Said I never seen you before. Shame.” He flashes you a cocky grin. “If we weren’t about to die, I’d love to have you for a drink.”

You arch a brow at him. Search his face for the hint of a joke. You give him the old once over as the two of you wait your turn to board the carrier. The criminal’s not perturbed when you say nothing and leave him there on the helipad, high and dry. Blackguard comes up to pat Digger on the back with sympathy as he passes, boarding after you.

“Tough, man.”

Your armor is waiting for you on your seat. The other spots are also place marked with various weapons and garb for the others. You hook your chest plate and arm guards on as the others get settled in. And of course Harkness’s spot happens to be across from yours.

His toothy smile returns. You almost have enough time to finish rolling your eyes before you receive a heavy duffel bag to the lap.

“Oof, sorry, doll!” Harley Quinn yells. She yanks the bag off of you and kicks it under the seat, plopping down beside you. When she offers a handshake, she snatches yours up before you can even lift it high.

“What’d they call you? Night Stalker or somethin’?”

You chuckle, “Something like that.”

Harley takes up your attention most of the trip, and it seems to set a rapport with the rest of the squad— if you were in with her, you were in. Even Colonel Flag seemed to glance at you with more recognition as you all lined up for the drop somewhere over the Pacific ocean.

You step to the edge of the door with your mask in hand, eyeing the water down below. A flood of thoughts crest and crash around in your skull, just like the waves beneath you— how you wished you weren’t here. How this wasn’t the time to feel sorry. You’d only been at Belle Reve a few short weeks, and they had plucked you out of your cell in the dead of night with an agenda ready and waiting for you. Waller liked your skillset. There was plenty she had planned for you— if you survived, of course.

From the corner of your vision, you see that your drop buddy is eyeing you up again. Digger saddles up to you with a nod.

“You ready for a shit show, lovely?” He grins.

You smirk at that. You reach up and finally sheath your face with your mask— A white, blank face, with two narrow slits for eyes.

Digger blinks, his grin wiped clean from his features. He looks over your mask, stunned, and the rare moment of silence has you smiling under your Kevlar face. You watch with amusement as it all clicks into place for him.

“Shade?”

“Ready for drop in three!” Flag hollers from the back of the craft.

“Wait—“ Digger reaches for you. “Hey!”

You kick off the platform smugly, plunging into the frigid water without any hesitation. Digger curses as he jumps in after you before he misses the drop zone.

—

“When were you gonna tell me?” He hisses later. You and the others shush him as you sneak your way through the foliage, using the jungle trees as cover. Digger sticks close to you as you clear a path, even though he’s supposed to be paired up with Hertz off to your left.

“You didn’t ask.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know!”

“Shut it, Harkness.” Flag snaps over the comms.

“They caught you. How’d they get you?” He inquires, ignoring everyone. His laxed attitude back on the craft has disappeared, and the more gruff Digger you’re acquainted with refuses to let it go. Before you can answer, you hear the sound of something approaching rapidly. Throwing your arms around the Aussie’s middle, you tackle him to the ground just as a grenade launcher whizzes past, lighting up the greenery around you— and the entire squad’s location.

The mission is hellfire from then on. Digger doesn’t have time to prod you with any more questions, but that doesn’t stop him from gluing himself to your side as the two of you work together. You snatch up one of his boomerangs and fling it into the darkness, ducking to let him catch it as it flies back. By the time the sun rises, the lair you’ve been tasked with infiltrating is a crumbling mess, and you never thought you’d be this relieved to be taken back to prison.

—

Back at Belle Reve, you’re surprised there’s privileges to being a cooperating member of the squad. You throw your tray down onto the metallic table after the latest mission briefing, the rest of the mess hall cleared from lunch a few hours previous. You hunker down beside Harley who chatters away with Lawton on her other side. You’re content to eat in silence for a while, which doesn’t last long.

Digger hikes a leg over the bench to straddle it as he faces you, sliding his own tray til it’s flush with yours. He’s got on a serious face; you kind of wished he was still in a flirty mood. Ever since you got back, you’d been trying to avoid the conversation you know is coming.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He begins. He rests his elbow on the table, crowding your space with his thighs bracketing you, but you refuse to move away. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t think anyone wants to be here, Harkness.”

“No yea, but you’re not one of us.” He mutters, “You’re supposed to be out there throwin’ assholes like us into prison. What happened to you?”

You pretend your sloppy joe is somewhat edible, chasing it down with a sip from a carton of orange juice. “I was still breaking laws. Vigilante justice isn’t exactly without it’s own crimes.”

He huffs at that.

—

You were proud of the number of people you’d brought to justice. You had put half your life into training and becoming strong enough to protect yourself in such a dark, difficult world. You knew the risks. Still, it blindsided you the way your choice to take matters into your own hands finally caught up to you.

You were in Australia, tracking down a real piece of shit target fleeing the States when your search led you to Boomerang. You’d been prowling the offices above a diamond exchange; their laundering records would uncover your target’s real identity. And in the process, you crossed paths with Digger Harkness.

He stilled when he sensed your presence. The rest of his crew didn’t notice you in the darkness. You flickered on your high-powered flashlight meant to blind anyone nearby, but at their distance, it simply made a cover for hiding you.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked from under your mask curiously. You were new to Australia, but you didn’t expect to see the pair of actual boomerangs strapped to the man’s chest.

Digger tutted, shielding his eyes. He tried to get a good look at you to no avail.

“Keep working boys, I’ve got the little lady.” He murmured.

You’d fought up and down the corridor, until you had your leg wrapped around his neck and his wrist pinned down to the floor, still holding his weapon. He was an odd mix— a long range weapon paired with belligerent fist-fighting? If the genius just had let you get a word in edgewise, the two of you wouldn’t have had to waste your time.

“I’m not here to stop a bunch of thieves.” You snapped. You couldn’t care less about a generously insured jewel exchange losing it’s diamonds. It took all your bodyweight on his chest to keep the broad, muscular man pinned. You were impressed. You didn’t expect so much strength under the gaudy tracksuit top and trench coat.

He stopped struggling and arched a brow at you instead, “You’re not?”

When he relaxed, you shoved off of him. “No. And I won’t rat if you don’t.”

That made the thief brighten. It’s a complete shift from the man who just tried to slice you to ribbons. “Well then,” He leered. “You don’t sound like you’re from ‘round here, lovely. How’s about I show you a good time?”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him against the wall as you passed. “No thanks.”

But your mission had you crossing paths with him again. And again.

Everywhere there was anything worth stealing, there he seemed to be. You nearly had your target under your thumb one night— if you caught him here, right now, in this bank as he made an exchange with the higher-ups running it, you’d have proof of the embezzlement that had been affecting thousands of people there and back home.

You loved the part about being right, but not the part about how the situation going much higher up on the ladder meant you were a little outmatched tonight.

You grunted as another large man twice your size picked you up by the throat and slammed you into a wall of safety deposit boxes. The security guards doubled as henchmen, apparently, already in your target’s pocket. You landed on your feet and evaded another lunge, but when you stood up to take the man out, he was already falling over, unconscious.

You put your hands on your hips. “Is there anywhere you aren’t robbing?” You whisper-hissed at Harkness.

He shrugged, all smiles. “You’re welcome, sweetness.”

“Shut up.” You busied yourself with the guard’s keychain, smothering the quirk of your lips.

Harkness approached you, eyeing the keys. “Go on, share now.”

He couldn’t see you roll your eyes, but you handed him the rest when you took the ones you needed.

“How’s the investigation goin’?”

“Please.” You scoffed. “Go on, play burglar.”

You made to walk away when you felt a finger catch on one of your belt loops. Harkness drew you back, boxing you in against the bank of deposit doors, but this time you’re pressed against them with a soft thud. Harkness planted himself in front of you, his large hands coming to rest on your hips.

“You know, I’m wonderin’,” He murmured beside your head, lips near to your ear. “Been really convenient, you showin’ up to all my heists. If you wanted to spend your nights with me so badly, invitation’s still open, love.”

The last thing you’d ever do while out on your mission is get distracted like this. But you’d be lying to yourself if there wasn’t something about the reckless, idiotic thief that made you want to linger. He was cocky, but once in a while he did get you to laugh.

You pressed a gloved hand to his chest and slid it up tentatively, over the large expanse of firm muscle until it came to settle around his neck. Even through the fabric, you could feel the way his Adam’s apple bobbed under your palm. You tilted your head, and your mask with it, enjoying the way Harkness tried to decipher what you were thinking from beneath your blank face.

His face was always so open, his expressions never hidden from you. He leaned forward, and for a moment you thought he might actually try to press a kiss to the painted kevlar, on the spot right where your lips would be. The thought made your pulse thrum, and you tightened your grip around the Aussie’s neck incrementally, drawing a soft groan from his parted lips.

Another, more pained groan sounded from the unconscious guard on the floor, pulling you from your daze. You pushed Harkness away in an instant, your focus returning to the task at hand. Harkness swore under his breath, and threw a glare down at the man.

“Thanks for nothing, mate.” He snapped, giving the henchman a sharp kick to the stomach, before following you out of the room in a hurry.

You were a little sad to part ways with Digger Harkness after you wrapped up your case a few weeks later. After capturing your target and turning him over to the authorities, you don’t miss the way Harkness, too, seems a little disappointed at your leaving. You had danced around his advances, never really accepting or denying. You weren’t used to distractions, and you knew if you waited it out, your work would decide for you.

He did hit on you one last time, and you let yourself laugh— fully and light-heartedly— at the thief. Pulling him into the shadows of the alley where you say your goodbyes, you lifted off your mask in the darkness halfway, just enough to press your lips against Digger’s in a deep kiss. His shock didn’t last long, arms flying up to wrap around your waist as he returned it. You pressed your body into his, a soft sound escaping you as he lifted you up with ease.

“Hope your work brings you back, lovely.” He murmured when you pulled away, still in his arms. You leaned in again, unable to resist stealing one more kiss from the thief.

“Might get bored and come throw you in jail.” You quipped. Digger heard your voice— your full, unfiltered voice for the first time. He put you back down on the ground, wishing he’d heard more of it while you were still here.

“I’ll be seeing you, Shade.” He hoped.

You were proud of what you did, but eventually, it made the wrong people angry. You went home, picked your work up there again soon after. You chased a lead that took you nearly four years of investigation to gather enough evidence for— when you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Police came for you when you weren’t out prowling, in the middle of the day, catching you by surprise.

You were sentenced to Ninety years. Ninety years for witnessing one of the most brutal murders you’d ever seen. You’d been too late to stop it, but when you tried anyway— tried to hope that the victims were still alive by the time you could take out the real murderer— you realized too late that you were outnumbered. The murderer wasn’t just some lone wolf. He’d had connections. And he used them to pin the murders on you. You escaped that night, but when they cuffed you right there, right in the middle of your day job in front of everyone, you knew there was no amount of training or quick thinking to get you out of this one. They knew your real identity, knew everything. He’d finished you with one phone call to the chief of police.

You stayed silent the whole trial, except to plead not guilty. But still you had to sit and watch as the city’s best prosecutors smeared your name and your life’s work in front of the loved ones of the people you had tried to save. The look in their eyes filled you with shame. When the gavel fell and your sentence was announced, you let the numbness spread, let it stay there in your gut all the way to Belle Reve.

You hadn’t killed them yourself, but you didn’t save them either.

—

Digger sits with wide and storming gray eyes as you finally answer his question. It’s the first time you’ve spoken about it since they locked you up, and you avoid his gaze idly. You shove your plastic fork into a small pile of sad looking mashed potatoes, waiting for him to say something.

“That’s bullshit!” He hollers, and you jump, surprised.

When you recover, your eyes fall again. “Yeah, well. Here we are. At least I got to knock off ten years, so far.”

“Yeah, doin’ Waller’s dirty work.” He snorted. “You tried to save those people. Don’t their families fuckin’ know that?”

You should feel comforted by his support— wished you had it when you were going through it alone— but it was too late now. Digger watches your brows knit together. He’s still not used to seeing your actual face. Not used to seeing the way it looks like your eyes are shining like they might brim over with tears as you try your best not to look at the thief.

“Shade…”

“[L/n],” You say, quickly collecting up your tray and standing up. “You can just call me [L/n] from now on.”

Digger stammers out something close to an apology, though what he really wants to do is follow after you as you hurry off. But you have to return to your cell when you’re done, down a corridor they won’t let him follow. He swears, shoving his tray away from himself with a frustrated sigh.

A sad whistle brings him out of his sulk. Digger looks up to see that Floyd and Harley had stopped eating a long time ago, eavesdropping in on your conversation. Both of them offer him cringful expressions.

“That sucked, dude.” Lawton says.

Harley nods sadly. “You really bummed her out, makin’ her explain the whole deal.”

“Didn’t anyone tell you never to ask the quiet ones how they end up in here?”

“Oh, fuck off!” Digger snaps, throwing his tray on the floor. One of the guards immediately moves to mediate before Digger puts up his hands, “Alright, alright. I’m done.” Harley and Floyd burst into laughter as they escort the thief back to his cell, his sour face sending them into even more hysterics on the way out.

—

The next mission would take two weeks, if you were all lucky— and you had a feeling being out in the open that long didn’t sound very lucky.

The squad’s ‘basecamp’ had to keep moving. This recon mission meant you had to pack light, and you shouldered your pack all day, throwing it down in the evenings as members of the squad took turns monitoring a mysterious facility a few clicks away. You hated that you didn’t get to know who was in there or what for— you recorded your findings in the day, and reported to Colonel Flag at dusk, no questions asked.

“Doesn’t seem very deadly.” You mutter. You sit next to Digger on your bedroll, chewing tiredly at your rations.

He snorts as he finishes up his own. “Careful. You’ll jinx us.”

It wasn’t freezing in this climate by any means, but you notice the way Digger hunches his shoulders, looking irritated. He’s got his coat and hat on, but you know him well enough by now that the man was trying to keep from shivering. You smirk a little.

“What is it with you and the cold?” You chuckle. You reach over and tug on the ridiculously wide collar of his trenchcoat. Digger frowns, snatching it back and pulling it over himself snuggly.

“‘S not my fault. Not built for it.” He grumbles.

You set up your bed rolls an appropriate distance away from each other every night, but every morning, it seems as though Digger Harkness is trying to make his way over to you inch by inch. You wake up the next day before him, only to find him sleeping entirely off his mat, in between it and yours. You nudge him awake with your foot carefully, and point out he’d be a lot warmer if he slept off the ground at night.

The night after that, you feel something press between your shoulder blades just as you begin dozing off. Startled, you jerk up, finding Digger off his bed roll again. He snores lightly as his head rests on your mat and you ease your tensed arms. You watch him sleep for a few minutes there in the dark. Eventually, you lie back down, careful not to wake him as you return to your sleeping position, his face nudging the spot between your shoulders again with a sleepy rumble. You don’t move closer to him, but you settle for not pulling away tonight either.

—

During the day, you’re forced to pair up with Harley. It’s a lot of walking, and you’re surprised to find there’s someone in the group who complains more than Digger. Harley Quinn can’t seem to enjoy silence, so you let her fill it up as the two of you traverse the woods.

“So, what’s with you and Boomer?” She finally asks. You’d been waiting for it ever since the day in the mess hall. You grip the straps of your canvas bag awkwardly, wishing you’d kept your mask on instead of leaving it on your hip.

“He talks about his old girls but he don’t ever talk about you.”

“No?” You arch a brow. “Probably because I’m not his old girl.”

“Yeah, well. I figured it either meant that, or...”

“Or?”

When she levels you with a prodding squint, you huff.

“I… met him once. Before Belle Reve.”

“Once?” The crime queen laughed. “Please. You two look like best buds.”

You shrug.

“Or mooore?” She croons, her face getting dangerously close to yours. You scrunch up your nose, willing yourself not to betray anything on your face. God, you wish you had your blank one on.

“Look, I lived in Sydney for a few months. We— crossed paths a lot.”

“I bet you did.” She cackles. She doesn’t seem to mean anything terrible by it besides the obvious, so you let her think what she wants, leaving the topic at that.

—

That night, you grind your teeth as you try to will yourself to sleep. It’s only your second mission, but the week of constantly moving and the threat of someone opening fire at any moment has exhausted you. You keep your arms crossed as you lay on your side, your mind racing with a million anxious thoughts like it always did when you couldn’t sleep— how you wouldn’t be here if you were better, how you were really just a dog now, sleeping out in the cold, waiting for commands. When it was all over, if you lived, they would plop you back in your cell, and you’d still have decades to go.

You’re snapped out of your downward spiral when an arm lands down over your waist. You jump, stopping yourself before you elbow Digger in the face and knock out his teeth. You scowl; maybe you should punch him awake. You’re about to open your mouth to say something when he flexes his arm, dragging you backward across the mat. With a soft yelp, you’re met with Digger’s broad body flush to yours, his bearded face pressing into the nape of your neck.

“Harkness. Digger.” You hiss, poking his arm faintly. Digger mumbles something unintelligible, his arm relaxing again. Still, he’s spooning you in his sleep, without any sign of rolling back over. You sigh.

Shit. It bubbles up in the back of your throat— a sob that you quickly snuff out. You press your lips together pathetically.

The thought of a life sentence in Belle Reve, the thought of the loneliness that came with it— You knew it would be even worse than the loneliness you’d felt even before your sentence. You were like every other vigilante; your secrets had made you keep everyone at arm’s length. Harkness had been the last person you’d ever bothered to let in, however briefly. And here he was, still offering you the affection you never knew how to ask for, even in his sleep.

You carefully lift his arm, settling it back down over your bicep until Digger was hugging you comfortably. You press back against him, drawing a pleased sound out of the slumbering thief. Closing your eyes, you relax, finally letting yourself drift off to sleep too.

—

You’re not plagued by dreams. Instead, you wake up, realizing blearily that you slept through the entire night without stirring. Which was good for your exhaustion, but bad considering the fact that you should be on your toes— what with the suicide mission and all.

You’ve also missed something else, because when you sit up and yawn, you pick up on a joke you’ve just missed.

Harley Quinn is in titters on her bedroll as she hugs her stomach, her laughter bringing her to near tears. Lawton is also doing little to contain himself.

Then you remember Harkness, and how his arm was suddenly very absent. You turn around to look at the thief and come face to face with his beet red expression as he glares over at his friends. He’s already sitting up, flustered, his cap askew on top of his curls.

“I didn’t know koala bears got as big as you, Boomie!” Harley teases in between breaths. “Big ole bear clinging to his tiny little tree.”

“Alright. Alright already!” He snaps. You’re surprised when he gets up, saying nothing as he stalks off into the treeline and away from the rest of you.

You don’t mind Harley’s teasing, but when one of them— the tall lanky one they call Blackguard— tries to ask you if Harkness greeted his little tree with some morning wood, you shoot him a vicious glare, shutting the bleached blond up quickly.

—

Digger drags his heels for the rest of the day. Flag dishes out directives, and Digger rolls his eyes when he hears he’s paired up with Lawton on surveying duty.

His attention is split, halfway between the mission, and you.

Digger had stirred when you shifted his arm last night. He was ready for a jab to the gut, when instead you decided to pull him closer. He opened his eyes faintly, confused, when an odd sound got caught in your throat. He’d heard it before in the mess hall, when you had swallowed thickly and excused yourself from the table.

From his position, he couldn’t see your face. But he’d been memorizing it— every chance he could sneak a look, in the briefing room or out here, where you seemed to not want to wear your usual face anymore. He didn’t mind one bit; he always imagined you with a pretty face he could stare at all day under all that Kevlar. And he was thrilled to find out he was right.

But Digger had a feeling. There was a reason you didn’t want to wear it anymore.

A pang of guilt hit him; he always figured only the people closest to you ever got to see your real face. He’d never been one of those people, as hard as he tried in his own way, back in Sydney. Belle Reve stripping you of your uniform and mask by force didn’t feel like he’d won the right to finally know who you were.

It just felt like another thing he’d stolen.

He listened as you squashed whatever emotion tried to overwhelm you. Digger stayed utterly still as you settled back against his front, your warmth radiating through all the many layers between you. He felt the way his ears flush and heat up against the cold night air, but he didn’t dare break this spell that had come over you by being his usual, overbearing self.

You seemed to drop off to sleep soon after that, and Digger finally let himself press his face to your neck carefully, committing the feeling of you in his arms to memory with a hum.

“—Have you even heard a goddamn word I’ve said, Boomerang?” Colonel Flag scowls. He taps a finger against the butt of a rifle slung across his chest irritably.

“Yeah, yeah. Take a lap around the base and let Lawton do the picture taking. What the fuck else is new.” Digger waves off.

“And rest up early when you get back.” Flag adds, ”I’m putting you and [L/n] on the midnight watch this rotation.”

Digger blinks, “— What? Why?”

“You’re really gonna complain, man?” Lawton drawls as he waits for the two other men to wrap up. Digger smothers his grin as he hurries after the marksman, ignoring the way Flag shouts a few more last minute orders after them.

—

As it turns out, the usual pair who had been taking the midnight watch on this mission had been compromised. Something about an old landmine on the other side of the base and an unfortunate misstep. You were all down two squad members, and now everyone’s duties were being shifted around.

You sigh loudly as you stop in front of Harkness, throwing your pack on the ground beside him. He sits on the sloping forest floor, binoculars in hand, your little stake out area all ready for your late night shift.

“How’s the watch?” You greet, taking a seat beside the Aussie. You snatch up the binoculars from Digger and aim it at the facility.

He mumbles something gruffly.

“Hm?”

“Said I’m tired of this fuckin’ weather!” He gripes.

In reality, Digger’s been nervous of you approaching ever since he set up about an hour earlier. He couldn’t get any of the rest Flag recommended— Not while it was cold, and not when the realization that he’d be spending the entire evening with you alone hit him.

Fuck! He’d looked like a fucking moron clinging to you this morning.

Your soft chuckle draws you from his bitter thoughts. “You want my jacket?”

Digger rolls his eyes, but quirks a smile all the same. “Fuck off.”

“I can see you shivering from here.”

He waves you off. Putting the binoculars’ strap around your neck, you stand and brush the bark and moss from yourself before kicking Digger’s ankle. He gives you a questioning look as you do it again, waiting for him to get the hint.

His confusion soon melts into surprise. His eyebrows shoot up as you turn, taking a seat down snuggly between his knees.

Reaching behind yourself, you tug Digger’s coat open, pulling the large edges around yourself. It takes a little shifting around, but soon the two of you are tucked comfortably inside his jacket, your back pressed squarely to his broad chest.

Digger thinks his lip might split the way he can’t stop grinning. He rests his chin on your shoulder, any hesitancy about touching you totally evaporating. You sigh as he draws around you, his large arms enveloping your entire middle. The two of you fall silent as you let the shared heat generate and warm you both up. You stay like that for an hour, then two, only shifting to stretch a muscle here or there, but always returning to the warmth of Digger’s coat.

“I, er— about this morning.” Digger mumbles after a while. You’d been so content where you were you realize you'd almost nodded off for a moment. You turn your head sleepily, and in doing so are met with his cheek pressed against yours. “They’re assholes.”

You tilt your head, rubbing your cheek against his beard. “They can have their fun.” You muse. It’s true— you didn’t mind Harley or Lawton one bit. You had your own reservations about opening up; but they had nothing to do with it. You rarely cared about what other people thought or assumed. You’re about to propose that the two of you can have your own fun, when the tip of Digger’s nose finds yours by accident, and you burst into laughter at how cold it is. You quickly muffle it, what with the covert operation still going on.

“What?” The Aussie whined. He slips his hand into the coat, snaking his fingers underneath as many layers as he can find. You yelp.

“Fucking freezing.” The shock of his cold palm to your stomach makes you wriggle against him, clamping a hand down over his. “You bastard.”

A grin presses to your neck. “But you’re so toasty. Perfect place to warm my hands up.”

You’ve given him what he wanted, your head falling back onto his shoulder as you tried to squirm away. Digger takes the opportunity to press a kiss to your lips.

You gasp, stilling, but soon relax against his bold touch. You let your eyes flutter close, your muscles relaxing as you kiss him back.

Digger’s hand warms quickly against your flushed skin as his thumb draws idle patterns on your stomach. You move your mouth against his carefully, and he’s content to let you set the pace. Ever since you’d turned up, you’d been all Digger could think about back in his cell alone, his thoughts drifting to the typical, cocky ideas he had— But he also dared to imagine you’d want to continue the fleeting, tentative thing you had shared over four years before. He felt pathetic, still clinging to the memory of that goodbye kiss. But it wasn’t anything like his usual dalliances. You were something special. Something much better than he was.

You feel the pull of Digger’s mouth turning into a frown. You open your eyes gently to see him scowling as he opens his.

“What’s wrong?” You murmur, your hand reaching up to cup the side of his face. He shakes his head.

“Nothin’.” He says. “You just… never came back. Figured you didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?” You press on, pulling back to search his face.

But you can put it together yourself. His expression is an open book to you, as it always has been.

“I got caught up in my work.” You confess. “I always do.”

He huffs. “Don’t I know it.”

“But I— I saw you keeping busy too,” You tease, biting back a grin. “Finally hit up every bank in Australia. Fucking ridiculous.”

“Yeah, you were keepin’ tabs on me?” Digger’s smile widens.

“Maybe.”

“Then… Did y’know I came over?” He finally asks, after a moment. “Cleaned out a few U.S. banks too.”

“I heard,” But then, more somberly, “Heard you got picked up.”

And a little time later, you did too. It never crossed your mind they would ship you off to the same place that held Digger. You sigh as you let your head rest on his shoulder again. “Not that I minded.”

“Hey.”

“—Because… I think I’d have honestly gone insane if you weren’t here.” You finish. And you watch the way his affronted expression shifts back into that pleased, soft look he gives you so often— the one he thinks you don’t notice when you’re not looking.

You thread your fingers through his curls and drag him back down for another kiss. It’s more searing this time, one you hope makes up for all the times you’ve pushed him away.

Digger groans. He curls around you further, his hand sliding over your skin as he parts his lips. He pushes his tongue into your mouth and it meets yours with a hot swipe. You part for him in return, shivering as the two of you begin to suck and lick into each other’s mouths with more zeal, the binoculars and mission forgotten for a moment.

“Shade…” He murmurs. And you forget that you wanted to put that name away— wanted to throw your mask into the ocean and never call yourself that again. You didn’t deserve the persona anymore. But you’d missed the way his little nickname for you sounded on his tongue. You swipe at it again, taste it. Maybe you didn’t mind keeping the name if he was the one saying it.

Digger draws a moan from you when the hand beneath your shirt drifts upward, his palm closing over your breast. He kneads it slowly, fingers pressing together to pull the flesh under his touch firm. You lean back more. You push against the ground with your heel as you try to make any space between the two of you disappear. The Aussie makes another deep growl against your mouth when you tilt your hips, the motion making you rear brush up against his groin. Digger grinds back against you without hesitation. You don’t think it’s possible for him to squeeze his arms around you any tighter, but he does. You whimper when he lifts you off the ground, onto his lap where he can roll his hips against you with more of that slow, heated rhythm.

An incredibly awkward cough rings out.

You gasp, yanking away from Digger.

Colonel Flag stands a few feet away from the two of you with Lawton at his side. You feel yourself flush as Digger feels more inclined to roll his eyes.

“Oh, what now.” Digger snaps.

“Rotation. We’re here to uh, relieve you.”

Flag has the decency to look away while you remove yourself from Digger’s lap. Lawton, on the other hand, snorts at Flag’s mention of ‘relief’.

“Koala’s too busy clinging to his tree again.” He chuckles.

Digger scowls as he stands up. He makes sure to close up his trenchcoat over his front as he collects himself.

“That’s racist, mate.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “Man, shut up and get back to camp. Before she doesn’t feel like cuddling up to you no more.” He adds pointedly.

Flag nods at you curtly while you hurry by with an apology, and Digger soon follows after you.

You wait until you’re both out of the Colonel and Deadshot’s sight, before you grab Digger’s hand and pull him against a tree. You allow him to crowd you against it, grinning up at him as you take both his lapels in your grasp.

“So grouchy all of a sudden.” You tease. You lean up on your toes to kiss Digger’s frown away.

“Everyone and their mother’s always interruptin’ me when I finally get you alone. You ever notice that?” He complains, and you definitely don’t consider it a pout.

“Well, no one’s around right now.” You point out. You slip your hands into his coat again, hooking your fingers into his waistband. When you pull him closer, Digger grunts at the way your knee slides up between his legs, your thigh meeting his middle, where he’s still hard from earlier. You arch a brow at him. “We don’t have to head back to camp right away, do we?”

The Aussie flashes you a megawatt grin so bright you think his gold tooth might light up. He leans down and captures your lips again. As he kisses you, he reaches down and plucks you up easily, his hands cupping the back of your thighs until your legs are wrapped around his waist, your back to the tree.

He pulls away for a moment to take another look at your face— how it’s bare, open, and staring back at him with more affection than he ever let himself imagine.

“Think I’m a bad influence on you, love.”

You grin. “Oh, please. Like I always followed the rules.”

[storylover9134]

^^^this 1000%. the kids are doing good with what they were given but it feels like we're missing SO much depth from Annabeths character with the spiders and architecture loss - both at the arch and the casino. the arch especially because we learn how badly she wants to build a monument to her mother (and herself) and this hints at her fatal flaw and we saw percy's fatal flaw at the arch when he sacrificed himself to the Chimera. why not show her pride too? and overall she - and percy too - are too perfect and know what's going on or guess WAY too much of the time so there's no suspense.

also for all that people are talking about this being a kids show - why are they cutting out so much of the humor that really made the books? where is gladoria the poodle? and annabeth and percy's love ride being broadcast to Olympus? the car wash iris call to camp? and percy talking to the zebra to establish his horse powers? and grover shouting "die nasty humans die" at his game in the lotus? (okay that last one might be a bit much for kids, but you get the idea). i'm glad people like the scene of percy driving but i am personally devastated that I will never see Annabeths little moment where the taxi driver calls her 'your highness'.

i like that grover's getting more screen time and especially liked him manipulating ares, but I feel like it's at the expense of Annabeth. all of her moments are her explaining stuff or revealing other people's personal info - like luke and his mom which she would never have given away before his betrayal, or they're percabeth moments. and i squeal and love the percabeth but - she's not just her relationship with Percy, especially in the first book when they're just getting to know each other. i feel like she's being treated as a plot/narration device and percy's future gf, when she is so so much more than that.

also everyone's criticizing the kids acting/casting and i literally don't get it. 100% of my acting/casting criticism goes to the adults. Medusa and Dionysus are the only ones who i think really killed it in their roles so far. everyone else was so-so, way over dramatized, or meh.

I was also originally skeptical of people's claims of 'performative' diversity - also to all the haters Leah is annabeth not bc Uncle rick said so but because one look at the steely look in her eyes even in the promo posters is enough to tell you she's athena's daughter. BUT after recent reflection I would like some answers because the inclusion of the kid in the wheelchair was great but WHERE are: grover's crutches to help him blend in, the braces on Hephaestus's legs, the moment where neither annabeth or percy can read the auntie Ems sign because it's written in cursive font, etc.

also people say some of these things make sense for an adaptation - really? the showing up of a god every episode does not - hermes and Hephaestus absolutely unequivocally should not have happened because luke and every other demigod who joins the gods whole issue is that they mostly ignore the hero's, and their kids. they get some help here and there - but almost never for free or without an ulterior motivation. no hellhound during capture the flag to foreshadow that someone within camp specifically poses a danger to percy? why suspect ares now instead of finding out with the master bolt in the backpack in the underworld? why give percy 4 pearls when that also removes the hard choice he has to make which showcases the first time he puts a quest over personal loyalty his fatal flaw? why make it so he saves sally instead of her saving herself because as she says "if my life is going to mean anything, i have to live it myself" and not be saved by gods? too many things result in fumbling of major plot points and themes.

the majority of my criticism is for the writers of this who i think just read the Wiki synopsis and went from there. seriously disappointed in some of these choices and I'm not sure how much say Riordan actually got but i kinda feel a little betrayed by him. the show was supposed to be better, but so far i think only 2 was really good, 1&3 okay, and i've been getting gradually more and more disappointed as the show goes on.

Twitter is throwing a tantrum that TikTokkers are struggling to infer Annabeth's love of architecture from the show, saying that they have no literacy comprehension.

Except the TikTokkers are right lol

Annabeth lists ten facts about a building and immediately says it's a temple to Athena. She doesn't sound excited when she says it, she sounds mildly interested. She doesn't derail the group's quest because she's always wanted to visit, she brings them there because Percy's been poisoned.

To the regular viewer, it does not sound like she has an obsession with architecture. It sounds like she just knows this stuff because 1) She's an Athena child and it's a temple to Athena, 2) because the show told her she was smart in like episode two.

Annabeth doesn't rush around giddily, looking around and staring. She just kinda stands there. Where's the excitement and enthusiasm? Leah is a great actor, but these directors and writers are ass. We don't need to see Annabeth in stoic, calm dramatic silence. We need to see her be excited about her literal obsession, her literal hyperfixation!

It's also worth noting that Annabeth only talks about buildings ONCE. She doesn't say she likes architecture, she doesn't read her architecture books, we don't see her talking about the buildings they pass, we don't hear anything about Athena being the goddess of architecture, NOTHING. This is the FIRST time we've ever heard Annabeth talk about architecture and she is literally just listing facts.

Every time a new episode comes out, I become firmly more and more convinced that Twitter is watching a different show to me. Stop sucking this shows dick and actually THINK about the complaints.

[thefanficmonster]

Hey, I'm the 3word anon! I guess to make this easier, you call call me 📚🌻

I just wanted to say that you did an amazing job! I loved reading what you've done! You said that you wanted more words so here it is your next words: tradition, needle and tribute

Love, 📚🌻

I'm so glad you liked it dear 📚🌻 ! I absolutely love this challenge and I don't think I'll ever get tired of it hehe. Hope you enjoy this one too!

Freedom

Pairing: Rick Flag x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of drug use, Mentions of injury Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Romance, Humor

“Flag, I have someone coming on-board with you.“ Waller’s voice comes in through the radio of the jet colonel Rick Flag was about to take off with, taking the Suicide Squad on their newly assigned mission.

He rolls his eyes, engine of the jet roaring to signal it’s ready to lose contact with the ground and rise up into the skies - much like Rick, who’s already fed up with the Squad’s members who are explicitly annoying and pesky today, promising him a ton of headaches in the near future. With that in mind, these news Waller has given him so suddenly, he’s not particularly excited to welcome another lunatic on the jet. Another lunatic to deal with.

“Who the hell are you sending? Don’t you think my hands are already full enough?!“ He yells at the top of his lungs in order for his voice to overpower the engine’s loudness.

“I’m here to help you, you ungrateful piece of shit!“ This voice, familiar voice, doesn’t emerge from the radio, instead it’s coming from right behind him and is equally as strained as his due to the loud, ear-bleeding surroundings.

Before Rick can even comprehend the presence of another person, said person gets seated on the copilot’s seat, equipping a pair of headphones so the two can communicate without pushing their lungs to the brink of giving out.

“What the hell are you doing here, L/N?“ He asks, his eyes unable to hide even a little bit of the confusion that the girl’s presence has brought upon him.

Contrary to his seriousness and shock, the girl gives him a bright, almost teasing smile, “Oh come on, Flag. I have a soft spot for you, you know, I like helping you.“ She tilts her head ever so slightly, “And I don’t feel like giving Waller the pleasure of detonating this bomb at the back of my neck.“

“Thought so.“ He scoffs, watching Y/N’s movements out of the corner of his eye as she straps herself in. 

She rolls her eyes, cracking her knuckles before turning to him, deciding to pick up on this petty war, just to make matters worse for Rick and more amusing for herself, “Aren’t you gonna shoot me? I mean, it’s our tradition.”

Rick cringes, recalling the exact event - or rather events, plural - she’s referring to: the night he arrested her and a few others, all henchmen of the Joker. Unlike her co-workers however, Y/N put up one hell of a fight while those fuckers chose flight. Their decision didn’t get them far while hers led her to the hospital wing of the Belle Reve prison, a bullet in her side fired at her by colonel Flag. Seeing the report files on the altercation, Waller immediately knew the girl was something else and recruited her for the Suicide Squad.

Unfortunately, her first instinct when her eyes first landed upon the colonel was to pounce at him, despite her low chances of succeeding in her intentions considering there were guards and soldiers literally everywhere, all with guns ready to fire. Yet still, Flag was the one who shot her yet again, this time less dangerously close to fatal.

Yeah, she has a right to be pissed and a right to call it their tradition, but it’s also safe to say that their dynamic has improved. They went on to go on a few more missions together without any complications or unwanted altercations. Sure, there were snide remarks and petty comments here and there, but those could be considered compliments when compared to the shootings.

“When are you gonna let that go?“ Rick snaps, his eyes remaining fixated ahead while the jet slowly ascends, “I got you off the streets. I freed you from that psychopath. The last thing you should be is mad!”

There is a long pause between the two, leading Rick to sneak a glance at his co-pilot. She appears to be deep in thought, staring ahead much like he’s supposed to be doing right now. She doesn’t seem like she’s conjuring up a sarcastic response which would be totally up her alley, but oddly enough she seems to be genuinely thinking about what he said. He starts feeling a bit shitty for having snapped at her like that - she wasn’t completely wrong to keep rubbing it in his face, she did suffer two gunshot wounds from him, after all.

“I’m not mad.“ Y/N finally speaks up, not sparing him as much as a look, “I’m grateful. The Joker isn’t the only thing I was trying to escape. One half the day I was doing his dirty work, the other half I had a needle stuck in my arm or was out cold in a drug induced half-coma.“ This time she does turn to take in the expression change that’s happened on his face and she seems pleased with the shock and confusion she sees. “Bet you didn’t know that, did ya?“ Contemplating her next move for a second, she plays with the belts of her bulletproof vest and gear before seemingly deciding on what to do. Her fingers quickly undo the belts and buttons of the gear that’s covering her torso, removing the strong and dense protective material to expose the skin of her side where there’s a scar where she had to have surgery to get the bullet removed. Around the scar there’s a tattoo of a peculiar looking flower, masking the line as a part of itself, “I got that tattoo as a reminder of that night. A tribute to more than one freedom coming to me at once.” She quickly readjusts her gear, and slumps into the seat with a sigh of a deflating balloon. “No longer a slave, no longer an addict. Though, addicts are slaves too - slaves to our own brain’s dependency on a substance that’s destroying us.”

Rick is at a loss for words. He wasn’t expecting that, never did he think Y/N was an addict as well prior to being a henchwoman and then a prisoner. That’s probably due to the fact that she’s always been in a great physical shape, ready to take on the enemy whenever and wherever. “Damn, fucking hell, I’m sorry you had to go through that, Y/N...“ He really doesn’t know what’s there to say when he now feels even shittier than he did before.

He almost jumps out of his skin when he feels her hand on his bicep, “I would still be going through it if it wasn’t for you. In fact, come to think of it, I should apologize for pouncing at you like that when all you did was do me a favor.” She giggles quietly before adding, “But I won’t.”

He too allows himself a small laugh, “I wasn’t expecting you to.“

Of course he wasn’t, he’s come to know her well. And he also knows it’s nothing personal - Y/N is simply not the type of girl who apologizes. That he can stomach, but imagining his co-pilot seat unoccupied on the way back from this mission he cannot.

Damn it, Flag. God fucking damn you, you’ve done it again haven’t you, he asks himself, knowing the answer perfectly well already.

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

If I Go Universe - Birthday Breakfast (Rick Flag x OC)

Summary: Rick Flag likes to spoil his girl, especially on her birthday - especially when he's gonna be gone for most of it.

Pairing: Rick Flag x OC (Delphia Holman)

Word Count: 997

Warnings: fluffffff but also a bit of suggestive language, sorry - that's all I write now

Timeline: March 2017 (so about a year into them starting dating)

if i go masterlist

A/N: My first Writer Wednesday! @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape I hope you guys like it!

It was early on a Tuesday morning. Very early, in fact. The sun wasn’t up and even the birds weren’t awake at that hour. But Rick Flag had a job to do and he was going to see it done. Even if it was a job that he had given himself. One that he kind of regretted when his alarm went off that morning - but he was determined.

Determined to make Delphia’s first birthday with him as her boyfriend the best one she had ever had. Especially since he was leaving for a three-day mission that afternoon and wouldn’t be there for most of it. So he was going to make the most of the time they had together.

He turned off his alarm as quickly as he could so as not to wake her. And when he checked to make sure she hadn’t stirred, he had to smile. She certainly wasn’t the prettiest thing when she was sleeping. Head thrown back against her pillow, body all curled up in a weird position that he couldn’t imagine was comfortable, mouth hanging open, and he could even see the faint glint of drool on her chin. God, but he loved it though. He loved that fire-red hair splayed out on her pillow. That hint of drool on her chin. That hand that stretched out in her sleep to grab hold of him. To make him stay.

But he had to go. No matter how much he just wanted to pull her into him and go back to sleep.

Throwing on some basketball shorts, he went out to the kitchen and started up the stove and the coffee pot.

He had met her adoptive parents last week. A spur-of-the-moment thing that Delphia had found exceptionally awkward because she had forgotten they were coming to visit — and she had yet to tell them that she had moved in with “that Army Colonel of hers” as they liked to call him. Rick had found the whole thing entertaining as well as enlightening. They told him everything. And most of the time he didn’t even have to ask.

She only likes shopping for other people, not herself. She needs time to socially recharge. Sometimes, when she’s busy, she’ll forget to eat so you’ll have to remind her. She had a fear of clowns as a kid. They called her Ducky because when she first learned to walk, she walked like a duck — feet turned in and waddling from side to side — but he wasn’t allowed to call her that.

And on special occasions, she liked pancakes for breakfast.

Sipping on his morning coffee with cream, Rick made pancakes. A giant plate full of them. And once they were all done, it wasn’t the most beautiful thing, but he thought it worked just fine. He got out the candles and placed them at random. Really unsure if there was a proper place to put them or not in pancakes. He burnt himself a few times trying to light them, but that was okay. And once they were all lit, he carefully picked up the plate and began walking it back to the bedroom.

Delphia was already awake by the time he gently opened the door. She was sitting up in bed, rubbing at one eye like a tired child while her free hand absently patted his empty spot on the bed.

“Rick?” she mumbled sleepily, eyes barely cracked open enough to see him.

“Mornin’, baby girl.” He grinned at her as he came further into the room. “Happy Birthday.”

Blinking her eyes a few more times, she finally seemed to notice the glowing plate of pancakes in his hand and she smiled. A lopsided thing that made his heart feel like it was gonna beat right out of his chest.

“You made me pancakes?” she asked as he set the plate down on the bed in front of her.

“Course, baby.” Rick knelt down on the floor at the side of the bed, affectionately tucking a strand of her crazy bed head behind her ear. “Now you better blow those out before the wax starts drippin’ everywhere.”

Delphia closed her eyes with a smile, held back her hair, and blew out her candles.

“What’d you wish for?” he asked quietly.

She wouldn’t look at him as she pulled a pancake from the bottom of the stack, where they were the warmest, and took a bite out of it. Rick furrowed his brows as he watched her. It was an innocent enough question. Surely she didn’t still believe that if she told him her wish wouldn’t come true. Then she glanced up at him and sighed.

“Just…you to come home safe,” she muttered around her bite of pancake.

“Hey — “ Rick took hold of her cheek and forced her to look him in the eye. “I’ll always come back to you — always.”

Delphia smiled and nodded, giving the inside of his wrist a peck of her lips. It made every last inch of his skin shiver. How did this happen? How had she taken hold of him so quickly? But Delphia Holman held his very heart in her hands. She held it lovingly, caringly, strongly, gently — without a knife to threaten it or a waiver to her fingers. She didn’t plan on letting go anytime soon. And he wasn’t planning on letting her.

“Do you wanna know…What else I wished for?” she asked, looking up at him through her lashes as she moved the pancakes to the bedside table.

Rick cocked his head to one side. From the look on her face, he had some inclination. But he wanted to hear her say it.

“What?”

She leaned in close. Her breath was warm against his cheek as she gently placed her hand around his throat. He gulped, leaning forward into her touch as his own hand against her face twitched.

“You let me give the orders for once.”

“Anything for the birthday girl.”

Taglist (if you like to be added for future installments just let me know): @bbygrgu @vvola13 @slayerx147 @xoxabs88xox @kasey-puff @witchygagirl @the-pink-petite-princess @blooo0ooop @woodlandmouth @csigeoblue @rexorangecouny @h-hxgirl @thisisthewayrose @blondiekook @darkestbeforethedawn16

[temptressofwaikiki]

(N)SFW Alphabet: Rick Flag

Pairing: Rick Flag x reader

Warnings: Just to be safe let’s warn for brief mentions of cum eating, rimming, mildly drunk s*x, ass biting, various role playing with toys are mentioned but nothing is really described in detail. It should go without saying but minors - do not read this.

Note: I did try to keep the reader as ambiguous and inclusive as possible, if I missed something, please let me know! I’m always up for suggestions.

Note 1.5: I did read through this but please ignore all spelling errors. I will undoubtedly find one immediately after posting. 🤣

Note 2: dedicated to @lunaserenade who is having a day, and to Oscar Isaac for blessing us. Thank you, it was much appreciated and giffed.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He would like to say he’s a perfect gentleman, making sure you’re good (& we know you are 😉) but this is one of the few times he’s fully relaxed, so you give him a pass for falling asleep within 3 minutes.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For a time he would’ve said his hands were his favourite, given all they can do for you (and to you for that matter) but after years in the military and what he’s done, he prefers his arms - especially when you’re in them.

As for your body, he loves every inch of you but if he had to pick one place to kiss for the rest his life, he’d pick your neck. Something about the tilt of your head, the trust you’re showing him by exposing yourself, it’s something he treasures.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

A gracious plenty, and while he loves when you swallow it (and you do try to take it all but he’s certainly more than a mouthful), he loves it just a little bit more when you wear it.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

The man isn’t shy about telling you what he likes, and how you make him feel. However, under extreme duress or an absurd amount of alcohol, he might admit to being curious about you tossing his salad*.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s no chaste virgin but he doesn’t have a Rolodex of previous partners.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

While he’s a fan of you on your hands and knees, or good ole dependable missionary. He loves it when you’re on top and in control. He has to wrangle criminals in high stress situations for a living, sometimes he likes not having to control all the variables, and it’s a luxury to have someone take care of him for a change.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He can be serious, and intense, and make your body quiver when he has you up against the wall, but give him a few drinks or catch him after a particularly good day? Well you might just end with bite marks on your ass, and vague memories of a cowboy hat, laughter, and an instance where you both rolled off the bed and he still kept going.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Lightly groomed, he’s considerate but it’s nothing fancy.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He can joke around, make you laugh, or look at you so intensely you wonder if you’re going to be able to sit tomorrow, but you know that when it’s just the two of you together? It really is just the two of you. He’s not letting his job seep into these moments he gets with you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He definitely jacks off. How frequently really depends on how stressed he is, and if he’s single at the time.

One time, you’d been asleep when he got home, and while he was definitely interested in the skin exposed by sheet bunched at your waist, he didn’t want to wake you. He knew a good night’s rest was hard to come by for the both of you, so he decided to take care of things in the shower. The fact you were tired the next morning was entirely your own fault, since you were the one who woke up, caught a peek at the show, and decided to join him.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He loves it when you start to kiss down his chest and then switch to biting and sucking at his nipples. Preferably when he’s on his back and his hands are tied above his head. If you decide to leave him tied up while you sit on top of him and get yourself off? Well he might just have to put a ring on it.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He’s a simple guy, and prefers the bedroom because his favourite place (other than between your thighs) is his bed. But if he happens to catch you in the kitchen, shower, or like that one time in the supply closet in the Belle Reve infirmary, well he can recognize an opportunity when he sees one.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He’s a slutty drunk, just putting that out there. If he’s had a few shots but still able to make decisions, he’s gonna find any excuse to get close to you. Drape his arm around you while you sit, pull your hips against his if you’re dancing, or just flat out ask you to join him in the bathroom.

However if he’s stone cold sober and sees you taking control of a chaotic situation or pulling one over on Waller? You’re getting it good tonight, or in like 5 minutes if the danger has past and there’s somewhere with privacy nearby.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything to do with non-consensual fantasies. It’s a hard no from him.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

You can’t tell me this man doesn’t love to go down on you like you’re a steak dinner, and he’s fucking starving.

In fact, it might just be his favourite goddamn thing. He can be cooking breakfast, watching the Super-Bowl, or polishing his golf clubs, but if you slide up next to him, kiss him sweetly, and then guide his hand between your legs, well I guess you’re having burnt eggs for breakfast. Enjoy.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes to take it slow, teasingly slow (to start with at least). It’ll start with his arm around you while you’re seated in a bar, his fingers brushing down your sides, and his face pressed into your neck, his warm breath and even warmer lips distracting you. Once he has you good and ready, then he might up the pace.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

While he won’t say no to a quickie, he likes the build up as much as the main course. He loves the teasing touches, the filthy comments whispered in your ear that warm your face, and feeling the anticipation build between you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

As long as you’re both okay with it, have a safeword in play, and it doesn’t conflict with anyone’s *hard no*? He’d be up for just about anything. He firmly believes sex should be intimate but fun - that it’s a time to be close with you, exploring each others bodies, and seeing all the ways they can be pleasured.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

To be honest, he’s not in his 20s anymore and he’s learned to appreciate the anticipation and build up of sensation. He’s good for one round, maybe two. He’d rather focus on beating his personal record of how many times he can get you off in a night. He’s a bit competitive with himself.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He enjoys watching you get off, and you like putting on a show for him. If you asked him to take control and to use it on you, he might just count his lucky stars.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Two words, Cheeky fucker. He’s like tease you, pull you right to the edge, and then pull back. He’ll let you hover there for a few minutes, a couple of hours (and on one occasion a whole day) before following through.

It’s not that he wants you to suffer, it’s just he wants you so ready for that pulse between your legs, the warm flush across your skin, and your heart thrumming in your ears - that you beg him for it (or you get tired of his shit, push him on the bed and use him like one of your toys. He’s not sure which outcome he prefers)

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

While he can be quiet and intense when the occasion calls for it, he’s a fan of praise. Telling you how good you feel, and how amazing you make him feel.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He can get behind role play. When you both figured out you liked bring props and costumes into the bedroom, you turned it into a sort of game night. Characters and situations written on slips of paper, and when you’re feeling extra playful, you’ll draw paper from the suggestion jar.

Sometimes the combinations can lead to ridiculous but hilarious role play, like a sexy police officer and a full body skeleton costume. There were a lot of CSI jokes that night.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

🙌🏼 he has been blessed with a nice sizeable dick, and you’ve been blessed with the opportunity to show how much you appreciate it.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

If you’ve been apart awhile, this man will find any reason to put his hands on you. On one memorable occasion, you’d barely made it out of the Belle Reve parking lot before he was reaching over to palm your sex, his face relaxed as he continued down the road while his fingers slipped beneath your waistband.

He may have also stuck his fingers in his mouth afterwards, something about tasting how much you missed him.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

See A

* salad tossing is a term for rimming, basically he’s curious about his ass and your mouth. 😘

[maxarat]

I want to expand on Mallory if I may because *incoherent noises* I love this girl and Halfborn being queerphobic is the least of the issues with her. I could talk about how she's a massive stereotype and her name being English is bs given her story, but this is about misogyny. So the first part plays in ig. Irish women are stereotyped as hot, hot headed, and violent because, put simply, the English hate everyone who isn't them. And we can clearly see this stereotyping in Mallory. Also her relationship with Halfborn is played for laughs, like haha it's so funny when I think it should be a red flag? I mean, they can't die, but the two of them are constantly getting into violent fights that Halfborn dismisses as Mallory being a crazy hormonal woman and then they break up and get back together again cause they're hot ig. And I cannot word how misogynistic this feels. A lot of times it really feels like Gunderson and Rick are gaslighting us about how shit their relationship is because they think violent Irish women are hot or something.

Also, when Pipes finally gets a gf it's not someone we know, her gf exists for like a page at the very end of ToA and that's lesbophobic I feel like

Misogyny in Rick Riordan's writing

Inspired by my friend @leo-thecactus making an essay about the bigotry implimented in the Riordanverse,i wanted to make a detailed post as a (nonbinary) woman on the incredibly misogynistic way Rick writes his female characters.This will be about misogyny in general but will also briefly touch upon variations of it such as lesbophobia(which Rick is a specialist in).Now,let's get started!

The most obvious one:How the Aphrodite girls are potrayed.Aphrodite is the goddess of love,one of the most important things in life(not just romantic love,platonic love is absolutely included in this),yet her daughters are sold off as weak and vapid for being traditionally feminine.Which is deeply ironic seeing as Rick is also shitty to gnc girls(and i will touch upon that in a sec)

Next up is the one i've talked about the most and not coincidentally the one that gets talked about the least in the fandom:Almost all of Annabeth's writing,especially her relathionship with Percy.Annabeth has never been allowed to be her own character,all for the sake of making her 'Percy's cute tsundere gf uwu'.She hates her hair for being blonde and curly yet our literal introduction to her is Percy saying she has 'hair like a princess'.She has anger issues and violent tendencies and hubris as her fatal flaw and does she get help for any of this?Of course not!Then we couldn't have Percabeth dysfunction-i mean slow burn🙄!She deadass acts like she hates him all the time with her constant insults and refusal to be openly nice to him,which is the perfect development and not demeaning to irl women at all.Oh,how kind she is to Piper and Reyna right from the start?They're just gal pals,that's not better romantic writing than her with Percy,keep your grummy wlw friends to lovers ship away from my perfect hets >:( /s

Piper herself is an indigenous girl who grew up getting bullied by racist white girls for being gnc but is never truly allowed to embrace her butchness.And then there's Clarisse...Cariño,i'm so sorry for everything Rick's done to you.This mf really made her the only fat and muscular girl in his entire franchise and never shuts up about how ugly and 'manly' she is AND had her be feminized to better suit her male love interest that he only introduced to prove she's straight.But wait,there's more!He also gave her a female friendship that parallels Achilles and Patroclus that was objectively better written than her relathionship with her so called boyfriend.This is literal queerbaiting,no debate about it

Speaking of shitty het romances,what the fuck was up with Rick having Luke be a grown ass man crushing on his underaged adoptive sister who he basically raised since she was 7 and never have it be seen as the ped0philia it is,only as jealousy fuel for her male love interest.And that ain't even the only canon ped0 ship-Sadie's what?14 at the oldest?And she's in a relathionship with an incredibly old god and Hazel is a middle schooler/high school freshmen dating a senior.Also don't think i haven't noticed that 2/3 of these girls are black.Misogynoir and people like Rick go hand in hand

He also has Sally still thinking positively of Poseidon,as if this isn't the dude who abandoned her after getting her pregnant when she was still in college.I don't give two shits that the reason Poseidon never visited her and Percy was the Ancient Laws because the Great Prophecy saying him having a kid could quite possibly end of the world never stopped him from chasing after some dumb crush.Paul's great but him and Sally's dating was so unnecessary-Sally didn't need to get back into dating,she needed time to heal from Gabe's abuse of her and Percy and 2 years isn't enough for that.On a semi-related note,i hate how Annabeth was the one Percy saw in the River Styx,it made no sense because how in the actual fuck is Annabeth his connection to his mortal side???She actively brings him into the mythical world all the time😭It was nothing but fanservice for their shippers,insulting to Sally as Percy's mom and reduced Annabeth to Percy's love interest for the countless time

Rachel was harrased by another girl because they liked the same guy and said girl never faces consequences for it,her best friendship with Percy was erased the second she couldn't be a love interest to him and Rick turned her into a gag character in Toa.Mallory's male love interest called the franchise's first trans character(Alex)a slur,made fun of their friend for being attracted to said character and his development out his queerphobic mindset was completely offscreen.Hazel got her screentime cut in half for the finale of Hoo

And for the finale,the first girl who i realized was being mistreated by Rick:Reyna.She's a latina girl of color-and it's worth noting that she's one of the few woc in the Riordanverse with no eurocentric features-who had an abusive father that she ran away from and he dosen't give her a second of rest afterwards.She was kidnapped by pirates,her best friend who she was in love with dissapeared one day and came back after months with a new girlfriend,she was rejected by another crush(Percy)yet again and she had to shoulder leading Camp Jupiter all on her own

SO MANY lesbians and bi women told Rick that they loved her chemistry with Thalia and were hoping they'd end up together or that at least she'd get a different girl for a girlfriend and he had a whole ass meltdown about it and was so petty about us big mean girlkissers seeing themselves in her that he made her completely ooc just to use her as a mouth piece for his hatred of us AND changed the rule of that the Hunters of Artemis can't date men to not dating period,which is extra gross because in the myths,Artemis showed strong hints of being a lesbian

Rick Riordan is a gigantic misogynist and it's written all over his books.If i ever meet him in real life,it's on SIGHT

[fandomwriterstuff]

Rewind

Rick Flag x you

Rated T

~6.5k words (I could not turn it into chapters, it didn't work out right)

Warnings: canon typical violence

I highly recommend listening to this song because it is very epic and I listened to it while I wrote the dramatic end scene.

You were a petty thief, a modern Robin Hood; you stole from the one percent to gave to the needy. And you know what? More often than not, the one percenters never even noticed. And every time you got caught you used your powers to get out of the situation. However, you knew a day was coming when you wouldn’t be able to get out of a nasty situation. A feeling of dread was filling up your nightmares and seeping into your waking life. You were filled with anxiety that your next job would be your last. Of course, it was never an issue with your powers. That is, until it became an issue.

You were doing a job in Gotham, a shitty city if you did say so yourself. Nothing like the country home you grew up in. You knew the ins and outs of the city bank. You knew the guard schedules, you knew the camera angles, you knew the passcodes, you knew which day your target would be inside. Bruce Wayne. Local billionaire who wasted his time and money hosting galas for the rich and famous. You loathed the idea of him. He wouldn’t notice a couple million getting lost in the shuffle. You knew everything that Gotham City Bank had to offer. But what you didn’t know would get you caught and sent to a metahuman prison. What you didn’t know was why you’d been feeling the dread of this job creep up on you for weeks. You had a bad feeling about it, more than the rest. So when you walked in, in disguise, you thought nothing of the exhaustion and weakness that filled your body.

You’d barely slept the night before, so it was normal. And this wasn’t a cash job, it was all wire transfers. But Wayne had to be there for the biometrics to work. Unfortunately, he knew all about your little job. He knew and he had you caught. You were confused, at first, when all you saw when you walked in was an empty bank. It was just the tellers looking at you nervously, but there was a swish behind you and you whipped around, military training coming back to you from your brief time in the army as you took a fighting stance to see… the Batman?

“The Masked Marauder,” he mocked you in his autotuned voice. You scoffed, two could play at that game. You were posing as a man today, trying to throw the trail off of yourself. You turned on your voice modulator and laughed haughtily at him.

“The Batman. Fancy seeing you here,” you were unsure as to how Batman was involved with Wayne Enterprises, but you had no doubt he was there for you.

“Feeling a little weak yet? I can see you straining,” you were on guard as he approached you, coming close enough that you could see the stubble on his chin. If you could turn him around so you were closer to the doors you could use your powers to get out of there and make a quick escape. It was easier to change your own position with your powers and not an entire scene, but you could do it if need be.

But he was onto something. You did feel weak. You were tired, your limbs heavy.

“What did you do to me?” You asked, shifting on your feet but trying to keep the charade up. You were masked and cloaked, but he had a nerve-wracking effect on you.

“It’s new technology. Power blockers at every entrance. You’re powerless inside this place,” at his words you backed up, falling weakly towards the ground as your powers were seeping out of you. You tried to use them to get out of this situation, breath shaking and palms sweaty as the seriousness of the situation dawned on you. You were well and truly screwed.

It was only moments before the GCPD came and fixed you with a power-blocking collar, chaining you up in an armored vehicle and sending you on a long trip to Louisiana. You had no next of kin to notify, no friends to take care of your apartment. You were alone.

Belle Reve was a hell of a place. You were brought in under the cover of nightfall and were only given a brief explanation of the situation. You were in a metahuman prison. You had less rights than normal humans. You were being tried for multiple robberies and the associated injuries that people had gained when fighting back against you. You’d never killed anyone, not since the army, but it didn’t matter. The crimes had stacked up. You were looking at forty years in this place.

When they threw you into the cell you were going to stay in, you were relieved to see there was only one bed and it wasn’t occupied. Solitude, at least, was your friend. You could think. You’d have thought it would be less time in prison since you hadn’t killed anybody, but it didn’t seem like it mattered. You shrugged to yourself. It’s not that you had issues killing people, you were in a special metahuman unit in the army before you became the Masked Marauder. You had a different codename then, but working with them had made you a little crazy. You had to see your close friends and colleagues treated with less respect than dirt because of their metahuman status, and you had to see most of them killed in action. You barely made it out, and you came out with a raging hard on for disrespecting authority figures.

You were only in Belle Reve for six days before you met Harley Quinn.

“Live fast, die hard, baby. You gotta do what you gotta do,” was something you heard a lot out of her smirking mouth. If you were in another life, you’d have been instantly attracted to the beautiful blonde, but you had enough crazy in you to not want any more on your plate. Despite the lack of romance between the two of you, you still got close. “As thick as thieves,” Harley would say with a wry twist to her mouth. She loved puns.

“Chronos?” You whipped your head around at the sound of your military nickname. “What the fuck are you doing here you little slut?” Your eyes widened as you recognized one of your previous teammates. Another bad egg, turned away from the army and towards a life of crime.

“Who’s Chronos?” Harley frowned next to you at the lunch table you were at, she hated not knowing things.

“That’s what they used to call me,” you whispered, standing and facing the other woman. You were small in stature, and the Amazon-like woman towered over you.

“Annie,” you knew she hated being called by her real name. She was one of the cocky ones, thinking metahumans were better than regular old humans.

“You’re wrong,” another voice called. “Chronos is a dude,” that came from Blackguard, a weirdo that you were avoiding. You avoided most people, really.

“Chronos is not a dude,” Annie growled, suddenly looking at the smaller man. “You calling me a liar?”

“I think it’s time for us to get out of here,” Harley dug her fingers into your bicep and pulled you towards the rec yard.

“What’s up with you? You normally love people watching the fights,” you wondered, concerned when Harley passed her favorite guard without saying hi. (It was Colonel Flag, the fucking hottest guard at Belle Reve who you’d definitely formed a crush on. You couldn’t help it, he was compassionate and he didn’t spit on you or throw you around or humiliate you like the other guards.)

“You didn’t tell me you had a super secret past with a cool nickname,” she whisper-shouted when you got to a bench and she could slap you on the arm.

“It didn’t come up,” you shrugged sheepishly.

“What does Chronos even mean?” She asked and you were going to explain, but Colonel Flag sat down at the bench across from you with a warm smile.

“Harley, Y/N, just the two people I wanted to talk to,” he then raised an eyebrow at the bruising grip Harley had on your arm. She let go and he frowned at the angry half moon marks her nails had left there.

“Not now, Ricky,” Harley pouted. “Y/N’s been holding out on me! She has a cool secret life and never told me about it!”

“I doubt you ever asked,” he followed up in a deadpan way and you stifled a chuckle. It was true. She could be forgetful and also unobservant. She didn’t exactly ask you about your life a lot. You thought it might be an act, she did have a PhD, after all.

“She even has a cool nickname. What does Chronos even mean?” She asked again, but side-eyed Colonel Flag when he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Chronos? I thought they called you the Masked Marauder. You’re in here for theft.”

“They must not tell you all the deets,” you raised your eyebrows at the man. “Before I was a criminal I was a part of an elite army group of metahumans. But that went to shit and I’m considered a war criminal in several countries. Never got the pardon for working as a part of the US military because they wanted to keep my unit under wraps,” you frowned. You couldn’t ever leave the country because of it.

“Well you’re not going to like the proposal I have for you, then,” he looked like he was regretting coming over to you and you threw a smile on your face.

“What do you need, Colonel?” You asked, tilting your head, but Harley was bouncing up and down in her seat.

“Oh! Task Force X? Is it a new mission?” She looked so excited you nearly didn’t listen to her words. But you did.

“Task Force X?” You asked him, narrowing his eyes. Maybe that’s why he was so nice to you all this time. He was buttering you up. “I don’t think so. I’m not dying today.”

“You get ten years off of your sentence for every mission you do-” You cut him off.

“You had me at ‘ten years off of your sentence.’ Say no more. I’m in,” you grinned, shark-like, at him. He had the wherewithal to not look confused at your sudden change of heart.

“It’s always fun, like weeding out the weak!” Harley exclaimed as you were ushered out of the briefing with Amanda Waller, a woman who terrified you and chilled you to your core. You felt okay though because Rick was going to be your commanding officer. It had been three weeks since your conversation with him outside in the rec area. Three weeks and your relationship had shifted just enough to make you feel safe in his capable hands. If it wasn’t the genuine human respect he gave you, or the dirty looks and reprimands he gave the guards who manhandled and mistreated you, it was the lingering fingers brushing against your back when he led you places and the warm smile he had just for you.

“Flag,” you smiled softly as you passed him on the plane.

“Chronos,” he smiled back. You knew it was commonplace to call each other by their names (Bloodsport, Blackguard, Chronos, etc), but you felt a twinge of fear. This was your first time using that codename on a real life mission since you left the army. But, when Rick came up with a fancy electronic screwdriver and unhooked your power-dampening collar, you felt such a high. You were ecstatic, your limbs felt light, you felt like you could go a million rounds against Mayweather, you wanted to fuck-

“Am I missing something? Isn’t Chronos a dude?” Blackguard asked, again, and you scowled.

“Chronos is a myth, man. This is clearly just someone with the same name, right?” Boomer nodded towards you and you gave him a tight grin. But before you could respond, Rick did.

“She’s definitely Chronos, and you better hope her powers aren’t mythical,” you grinned at that. He had your back. However, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to save them all if it all went to shit. For several reasons.

You hadn’t used your powers since arriving at Belle Reve, so you didn’t know if you were at 100%

You only had certain amount of power over large situations, so you’d likely only be able to save yourself and a few others

You didn’t care enough about these fuckers and they didn’t care about you. Your priority was to get out alive with Rick and Harley

That’s when Harley made her first appearance to the team. She was apparently good friends with Boomer and you mentally added him to your list to keep alive.

After you set off, things happened quickly for you. You made eye contact with Rick (yes, you were mentally calling him Rick now, because you wanted to fucking date the shit out of him), and made small talk with Harley as Blackguard freaked out about Weasel. But when you dropped and made your way to shore, you stuck close to Rick. He had your back and you had his.

As it turned out, Blackguard had set you all up, giving your location to the enemy and getting his face blown off for his efforts. You watched as your elite team of killers was picked off one by one. Harley had run off and you were panicking that you didn’t have an eye on her. You needed her to get out of this alive.

“Follow me!” Rick shouted, nodding his head towards his intended destination - the forest.

“But Harley and Boomer are-” you shut your mouth as Mongal’s actions finally took their toll on Boomer. But maybe you could fix it, if you could use your powers-

“No, we have to get out of here, or we’re next,” Rick grasped at your arm and dragged you into a full out sprint towards the forest, gunshots echoing behind you. You slapped his hand away once you were deep in the forest, though the sky was darkening you cut your eyes to his.

“Harley is all I have,” you spat.

“She’s my friend too, you know,” he frowned. You’d never used that tone on him before. “She can handle herself,” as much as you were loath to admit it, he was right. She was crazy but she could get out of nearly any situation. You sighed and bent over, hands on your knees as you calmed your breathing.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” you muttered, but you gasped when a sudden pain shot through your right bicep.

“That was a warning shot,” you heard a voice call out in accented English.

“A warning shot?” Rick shouted as he crossed over to you, pulling you close to him and inspecting the wound. It went straight through, but it was bleeding badly. “Warning shots are supposed to be in the ground, not at people,” he spat, considering running but you were in too much pain and losing too much blood. “Don’t use your powers in front of them,” his lips brushed against your ear and you nodded imperceptibly. You wouldn’t want to show your hand.

“Take the colonel,” a woman’s voice called and you glanced at him, wide eyed as they dragged him off of you.

“Hey, hey!” He shouted, reaching out as you fell to your knees, putting pressure on your wound. If you could stifle the bleeding until they left you alone you could use your powers to fix it.

“Leave the girl,” the voice passed by you and you stared at Rick, panicking but unable to stop them as three men held him back and dragged him away. You couldn’t help but think this was the worst case scenario. The enemy was taking your leader but you had lost too much blood to put up a fight.

As the rest of the enemies passed you, you sat back on your heels, but one of them roughly bumped into you, making you lose your grip on your arm. The blood flow was back at full force and the world turned black around the edges. You were alone. You put your left hand face up in front of you, and your right hand an inch above it face down. Your hands were parallel to each other and you tried to gather your strength to use your powers, but you couldn’t. You hadn’t used them in so long and you had lost a lot of blood. The last thought you had before you lost consciousness was of Rick’s panicking face.

You awoke to gentle hands cleaning your wound with what you assumed was water and opened your eyes when you felt a tight bandage wrapping around your arm. It was a young girl, younger than you.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” she smiled softly.

“She’s awake?” A gruff voice came from behind you and you craned your neck to see a team of people behind you.

“Let’s get going then” another man said. “You patched her up, she can go on her own from here.”

“Who are you?” You asked the girl.

“We’re the Suicide Squad,” the dark skinned man growled. “Here to collect our Colonel.”

“No,” you sat up, quietly thanking the girl for patching you up. “I’m a part of the Suicide Squad,” you squinted in the early morning darkness. Was that… DuBois?

“Bloodsport?” You asked cautiously. Were these all other prisoners from Belle Reve?

“Who are you?” The guy in red and white asked you… Was that Peacemaker?

“They call me Chronos, but you might know me as the Masked Marauder,” you spoke cautiously.

“The thief? Why would they have a thief on a mission like this?” Peacemaker asked and you shrugged.

“My powers are useful for other things.”

“Chronos is a myth though, right?” A smaller man walked over to you, in a suit you didn’t recognize.

You shook your head. But that wasn’t the point, you had picked up on something DuBois had said.

“You’re looking for the Colonel?” You stood and approached the group, which apparently included a shark man.

“Yup, Colonel Flag was taken by enemies and is alive at their camp. He is our first mission,” DuBois spoke and you nodded.

“I’m coming with you. Colonel Flag helped me get out of the bloodbath at the beach. The enemy camp people shot me and took him away,” you frowned at the thought and the girl - Ratcatcher 2, she had specified - gasped.

“Why didn’t they take you, too?” She asked.

“I think they knew I wasn’t important. They noticed immediately that Flag was a military officer and took him away.” Likely to be tortured, you thought to yourself but didn’t say aloud.

“Well, let’s get going then,” Peacemaker said brightly and the group of you made your way to the enemy camp. You were lost in your thoughts on the way there. You weren’t sure whether or not you would kill anybody. Maybe hurt them or knock them out. You hadn’t killed since your time with the military. But they’d taken Rick and left you for dead. So you had very little qualms hurting them.

Turns out, it didn’t matter. Bloodsport and Peacemaker made what was almost a competition out of who could kill the most people in the sneakiest ways, but it got bloodier and bloodier as the rest of you approached the glowing tent. You heard laughter and glanced in, borrowed gun pointed in as you parted the flaps of the tent. But you immediately put your gun down. Rick was shirtless and all patched up, laughing with a woman who you’d seen the dark of the night before. You couldn’t help the rising feeling of jealousy, you’d never have that with Rick. The easy jokes, the equal ground. You were a prisoner, and you would likely die as one. But you couldn’t help the breathy “Rick,” that came out of your mouth when you realized that he was okay, and he wasn’t being tortured by enemies. He snapped his head over to you and stood.

“You’re okay,” he made his way over to you in three long strides, as if he couldn’t wait to be near you, and your heart swelled at the thought.

“So are you,” you whispered, and took a moment to look him over and let your body sag a little. You’d been so worked up that you had barely felt the pain of your wound.

“I didn’t know you were important to each other, I wouldn’t have let them shoot you,” the woman sort of apologized with a half smile and stood. “Let me get you something for the pain.”

It was then that she noticed the very silent camp, commented on it, and that’s when you looked down at your feet. Whoops, you’d let Bloodsport and Peacemaker kill an entire camp of rebels. People who were technically on your side. Waller had given you bad information.

Rick brushed a hand down your good arm and gently held you, pressing his thumb into your elbow as if making sure you were okay, that your pulse was strong.

“I was so worried,” he muttered, and you were sure only you heard it.

“So was I,” you looked up into his eyes, and if there wasn’t an audience, you would have kissed him then and there. Alas, you had another mission. Well, two. The first was to get the Thinker. The second one was to get Harley, and that was a plan you were ready for. You were down to clown, as Harley might say. As long as you had Rick by your side, you could do anything you set your minds to.

The Thinker would be frequenting one of his favorite bars, and as you left the shark dude in the bus you felt yourself relaxing a little upon entry. You knew bars. You knew how to blend in. You glanced over your shoulder, you couldn’t say the same for your teammates. So, you slinked away and found your way to the bar. The leader of the rebel camp provided you with a pair of stretchy black skinny jeans and a MCR band t-shirt. You’d fought harder battles in more confined clothing, so this wasn’t too bad.

“Una cerveza, por favor,” you spoke fluently. You grew up in the country, but your family was affluent and taught you several languages so that you could travel safely and easily.

The bartender smiled and grabbed you a bottle, and you watched the team gather around a table. They stuck out horribly, and you shook your head. Maybe with a few drinks in them they would loosen up, you watched as Peacemaker ordered drinks and nursed your own. You used to like drinking with friends, but other than Rick (and the missing Harley) you didn’t consider these people your friends. You had a tentative relationship with the Ratcatcher 2, and you were beginning to begrudgingly like Bloodsport. But, Polka-Dot Man freaked you out, Nanaue had the English understanding of a kindergartener, and Peacemaker was a dick.

“You going to join the team?” You failed to notice Rick coming over to you, and rolled your eyes, taking a sip as you mulled over your answer.

“Only if they start looking more interesting. You look like a bunch of tourists. I’d like to gather intel,” you scrunched up your nose at Rick and sipped at your beer.

“Yeah, you really look like you’re gathering intel, darlin’,” it was Rick’s turn to roll his eyes. “Sitting here, sipping on a beer and staring at us.”

You scoffed. How dare he call you out. But it was true, you were busy judging the team to actually get any good information.

“Fine, I’ll join you,” you swigged the last of your beer and glanced at the bartender. “¡Uno más!” You exclaimed, and the man smiled at you before grabbing you another ice cold bottle.

“You speak Spanish?” Rick raised an eyebrow at you.

“I speak a lot of languages,” you shrugged and took a swig of the drink before making your way to the now empty table. It seemed like your compatriots decided to go dancing. That left you with Rick.

“Oh yeah, and how did you come to know so many?” He seemed genuinely interested, though you were hesitant to talk about your past.

“My parents were diplomats and wanted me to be able to travel with them, so they had me learn Spanish, French, German, and Russian by the best tutors money could offer,” you shrugged, sort of stilted, at his curious glance.

“And I thought you were a thief because you were poor,” he shook his head with a smile. “Waller has very little info on you so I wasn’t sure.”

“My parents were cruel, and utilized their money to help bad people get into power,” you looked down at your lap. “I resent the things they taught me. And I tried my best to right the wrongs that people like them did.”

Rick sobered up and placed a hand on your arm.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he frowned and brushed his thumb over your skin. “I knew a little bit about your thievery and who you robbed and why, but it makes sense now. You were trying to help. I get it,” he sighed and took a sip of his drink while you downed yours. You hated talking about your family. You wanted to move on to something else. Anything else.

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore,” you sighed, brushing your hair out of your face and looking up into those beautiful eyes.

“What would you like to talk about then?” he whispered, not willing to break the reverie you were in. You were close, closer than you should be.

“I want to talk about you, Colonel,” you smirked and placed a delicate hand on his thigh. He dragged his eyes from that hand slowly up to your face.

“What do you wanna know, beautiful?” He smirked and blinked those pretty eyes at you. You’d both had too much to drink. It was a little scary making the first move, but you found him incredibly attractive and you were 99% sure he returned your feelings.

“I want to know,” you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. “What those lips would feel like against mine,” you wondered aloud, and his sharp inhale was all you had to go on before a gentle hand was turning your face to his. The kiss was gentle, tentative even, but that’s not what you wanted. You wanted everything that Rick Flag could give you and you tightened your grip on his thigh, hoping to convey your thoughts, when everything went to shit. Peacemaker jerked Rick away from you and Cleo pulled you towards a darkened corner of the room.

“They’re asking for IDs,” she hissed, pulling you towards where you saw Abner had the Thinker.

“But what about-” she shushed you as you glanced back, making strained eye contact with Rick. Maybe you could use your powers to get out of this. But… You looked at the Thinker. This was the mission. You looked back at Rick. Would you get your brains blown out to save him?

You made your way to the exit, finding your way to the van and getting out of there. You were only vaguely paying attention while you were in pursuit of the truck holding your … friends? You panicked for a moment when it crashed, and when you pulled to a stop you sprinted out of the van and over to the fiery wreckage, thoughts racing about what could have happened to Rick when he, Bloodsport, and Peacemaker burst through the doors like some sort of boy band.

You couldn’t care less though as you threw yourself into his surprised arms and pressed your lips to his.

“That was stressful and I didn’t like it,” you muttered against his lips, barely noticing Bloodsport rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Rick smiled and pulled away to look down at you. “This is pretty nice.”

You scoffed and grabbed at his hand, not willing to let go just yet, and dragged him to your vehicle.

“Shut it,” you muttered as you all gathered. All he responded with was a light chuckle.

Your next mission was saving Harley, but as it turned out, she was no damsel. You were on your way into the place she was being held when she walked down the street towards you.

“Hey, guys! Whatcha doin?” She was smiling brightly and you rolled your eyes at the situation before hugging her.

“We’re here to save you, obviously,” you muttered and she looked from you over your shoulder to Rick.

“You came back for me?” She whispered and Rick came over to you, Bloodsport rolling his eyes in the background.

“Yeah, it was a really good plan, too,” Rick muttered, but still hugged back when Harley threw herself into his arms.

“Well I can go back in and let you save me,” she offered and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not necessary, Harley. Now that we have you we can get back to the mission,” you patted her on the back and nodded to the rest of your team.

Now, you could say that you acted heroically and saved the day, but you and your ragtag team… You were amateur heroes. It was a shitshow. You were setting up explosives with Nanaue when you had that bad feeling again. The one you had when you were going into that bank in Gotham. Maybe it was your intuition, but you knew some shit was about to go down.

“Keep at it!” You shouted at the King Shark and raced your way down the stairs to where Peacemaker and Rick were headed. If you remembered their part of the plan correctly, they were with the Thinker, but something went wrong when you were about halfway down.

“Fuck!” You shouted as you heard a great BOOM. They’d set off the explosives too early. Maybe you should have stayed… You looked up at the dust coming down from above. Your brain was telling you to get out before the building collapsed on you, but your gut was telling you to make it to Rick.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you chanted as you raced down the stairwell, crumbling concrete raining down as you danced around to avoid it. Your stomach cramped in warning, and you crouched into a ball as the floor beneath you gave out and you fell several floors. When your falling came to a halt you took stock. There was rubble above you, but not crushing you. Your breathing was heavy and your heart raced as you clawed your way towards the fluorescent lighting. You grunted and groaned as your fingernails cracked and your fingers bloodied, but you were not about to die here.

You crawled out into the open and peered through the dark, dusty hallway. You didn’t see anybody, but you heard a scuffle and made your way towards the grunting and smashing sounds. The alarm bells started going off in your brain again, and you started running. Your feet pounded against the jagged edges of concrete on the ground but you didn’t stop. You whipped your pistol out when you came to the source of the sounds, but you froze.

Your eyes took in the scene very quickly, and you knew there was a decision to be made. You saw Cleo’s figure in the dark corner, eyes shining in the dusty haze. The others hadn’t seen her yet. At first glance, Rick was atop Peacemaker, and your initial thought was that he was winning this fight. But his eyes, wide and shocked, locked onto yours for merely a moment before he collapsed forward, a dead weight, and all of your breath left your body.

You also saw Peacemaker’s eyes shoot to a computer chip that had scattered across the floor right before you came in. Right before they shot over to you.

But you knew this: Peacemaker didn’t know who you were. He had no clue what you were capable of. He roughly pushed Rick’s body off of himself, but you were faster.

You put your hands in front of you, parallel to each other, and green mist started swirling around between them. You hadn’t had to use your powers to alter a scene this big or intense before, usually just using them on your own body, but you could do this. For Rick.

Suddenly everything slowed down, Peacemaker was still lying on the ground, Rick was face-first in the rubble, and Cleo was crouched in the dark, hand reaching out to the chip.

But you were alive as your powers raced through you. You had seen yourself in a mirror once as you used your powers, and you could imagine how you looked to them. Glowing green veins covered your skin as you altered the fabric of the universe itself. A wind picked up in the room, swirling in tandem with the green mist in your hands. You only needed a few moments. You didn’t need to go back and stop the fight, you just had to stop Peacemaker. You contorted your fingers and molded the green mist to your liking before throwing your arms wide, the green mist expanding to encapsulate yourself and the two men. You didn’t need to include Cleo, she wasn’t involved. The wind whipped around, the green mist blinding everyone but you, and things started to go into motion.

It would all happen very quickly for everyone involved. Just a rewind. But for you, you had to painstakingly watch as Rick’s body rose above Peacemaker, and you had to watch as the ceramic in his heart was drawn out. You had handcrafted this reality and you were forced to watch as your handiwork took place. But you had gotten to the moment you needed. They were near the end of the fight, Peacemaker had slammed Rick into a wall, and with a wave of your hand, the mist disappeared and everything was clear.

“Wait, what?” Peacemaker shot his eyes over to you, but he was too slow in his understanding. You had already whipped your pistol out of its holster and shot him twice in the throat. He grasped at his, trying to stifle the bleeding and crumpling to the ground, but your eyes were focused on Rick. A very shocked, but very alive Rick.

“What did you do?” He asked, and you weren’t sure if that was disgust or wonder in his voice, so you turned, walked slowly over to Cleo (who had witnessed the whole thing through a haze of green), and picked up the chip.

“I believe you were looking for this?” You asked, holding it out in front of yourself to him. He gulped, walking over to you, but your strength was draining from with a display of your powers. When he pulled the chip out of your hand and tucked it into your utility belt, you wavered, edges of your vision darkening as you slowly knelt to the ground.

“What are you doing, we need to get out of here?” Cleo shouted at you, but you waved her off.

“I just need to sit for a moment,” but your voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

“No you don’t,” Rick hauled you up by your armpits and lifted you into his arms, princess-style. “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered and followed Cleo out of the rubble and into the daylight. You squinted, the bright sun blinding you after being underground for so long.

“Shit,” you muttered, shoving your face into Rick’s neck to avoid the light.

“So,” he sounded very casual and you tensed up. “I really thought you weren’t going to use your rewind powers at all, what happened to make you use them?” You bit your lip, not sure what to say.

“Peacemaker killed you,” Cleo answered for you and Rick stopped walking. You winced and looked up at his face.

“I panicked,” you whispered, not sure how he was going to react. But when he turned his head to face you, it was as if he was looking at you for the first time.

“You saved my life?” He asked and it was your turn to gulp.

Okay, so maybe you had feelings for Rick. You knew that. He was a hot piece of ass, and he was kind, and he respected you. And you kissed at the bar and after the van chase. So he definitely knew you liked him. But did he know your feelings were deep enough to save his life and endanger your own in the process? Well… Now he did.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to lose you to that prick,” you tried to shrug it off, but Rick gently let your legs fall and your feet touch the ground. You weren’t sure what was happening until he reached out and pulled you into the warmest, most all-encompassing hug you had ever experienced.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he whispered into your hair, and you let yourself sigh and sink into the hug.

“Yeah well now you owe me one,” you muttered jokingly, trying to slightly ease the seriousness of the situation. He squeezed you tightly once more before pulling away and smirking.

“Anything you want, you can have,” he smiled that sunlight-bright smile at you and you blinked at him once before returning his smile.

“You can take me on a date once I’m out of prison, how does that sound?” You asked and his smile widened.

“I can do that.”

“That might be a lot sooner than you think,” Bloodsport had walked over to you and (you assumed) Cleo had explained everything to him. You blinked.

What did he mean by that?

Apparently he meant he was going to threaten Waller and keep the information hostage. It wasn’t exactly what Rick wanted, but he got out with his life, and you didn’t have to go back to prison. You were thinking about it as you settled into your new apartment, only two weeks after fighting Starro and killing Peacemaker, your first kill in years.

You were sitting on your comfy couch watching reruns of Adventure Time when Rick called you.

“Hey,” you answered warmly, and smiled at his voice when he responded.

“Hey, yourself. What’s up?” You drew a blanket over your lap and muted the TV.

“Just relaxing. What’s up with you?”

“I was thinking, how about I take you on that date tonight? I’ll pick you up at seven?” If your instincts were correct, and they usually were, he was nervous about it. He was unsure you would actually want him, considering how sheltered and uneven your relationship had been before. You were quick to dispel that.

“That sounds lovely, Rick,” you couldn’t help but bite your lip in anticipation when he hung up a few minutes later. You also couldn’t help the excited squeal you let out and the little dance you did. Things were finally falling into place.