#oc: bricks

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Hi hi! I’d love to know more about Asset Codename: Bricks! Feel free to elaborate on anything you want, I’ve literally been obsessed with this wip since I first read it!

Ah, Bricks! My darling and my delight! Veronica "Bricks" Mason is a CIA asset, specializing in infiltration. Didn't she say her name was Ericka in the WIP Wednesday? Yes! Because I was still working out how I want her to exist in the universe lol.

Have an alternate intro!

CW: Objectification, canon-compliant violence

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap mutters, looking down the sight.

The big house on the private island is picture perfect, right out of a vacation guide. Two stories, floor to ceiling windows, and an absolute goddess of a woman lounging by the pool. Soap clocks one guard on the edge of the patio facing out, makes sure there’s no one else, and looks back at her.

Her dark skin glistens in the sun, and her curly hair shines. The tiny bikini she wears barely covers anything, bright pink as it is. He can’t exactly see through her sunglasses, but he gets the impression that her eyes are closed. Which is good, because once they break the tree line, she’ll have a clear view of them.

“Got a fuckin’ civilian,” he reports.

Price makes an exasperated sound. “Civilian?”

“Hen by the pool,” he confirms. “…No weapons.”

“How can you-” Gaz’s voice cuts off as he sucks in a breath. “No, I see her. Goddamn.”

Ghost’s voice rumbles, “Hold until she’s clear.”

Gaz mutters, “Why do the baddies always end up with evil sons of bitches?”

“Money,” Simon and Price answer at once. Price continues, “Nice view, though.”

“Cannae complain about the delay,” Soap says, letting himself take a long moment to admire her breasts. “Wouldnae mind a chance wit’ a bird like her.”

“Doubt you could 'andle ‘er,” Ghost chuckles.

“Away wit ye,” Soap grumbles.

All of them go silent when the woman stretches her arms above her head and sits up to grab her drink from a little table. And then she stands and walks over to the guard. He turns to her when he hears her voice, and walks to meet her at the corner of the house.

Soap will not admit that staring at the way her arse swallows the thong bikini is why he misses what happens next. One moment the woman is sipping her drink and smiling, and the next the man’s silenced gun is in her hand and his body topples into the hedges.

“What the fuck?” Gaz hisses.

And then she places the gun and her drink on the bar by the sliding patio door. She opens it, stands in the doorway with her back to the pool, and holds up a closed fist. She gestures: four fingers to the right, three to the left. Then she steps inside, turns left, and strolls past the floor to ceiling windows until she’s out of sight.

The door is left open.

“Let’s move,” Price growls.

Clearing the house is easy. Ghost and Gaz head right, Soap and Price follow the woman and run into two guards, easily dispatched. They find a third with a neat bullet hole between his eyes, on his back on another small patio.

And then they hear a woman’s shriek of terror.

Heart racing, Soap takes point as they ascend the stairs. In his ear, Ghost confirms that he and Gaz have dispatched four guards and are also making their way up. They clear two empty rooms, then hear a frantic voice.

“I don’t know,” a woman sobs. “I was by the pool, I just wanted another drink! And then I turned the corner and Ivan! Vanya was-! He’s-!” The voice is wracked by sobs.

“Fuck.” And that’s the target’s voice, Tarasovich. He snarls something in Russian, then reverts to English. “We need to get to the car, now.”

“Don’t leave me,” the woman’s voice cries, “Please, oh god what are we going to do?”

“To the car, you stupid woman,” the Russian snaps. “I will have Sasha call the pilot, we need to-”

Ghost and Gaz appear at the other end of the hall as Tarasovich chokes on his next words. There’s a scuffle, and a thud. At Price’s tap on the shoulder, Soap breaches the door, gun raised.

He can’t help but curse as he circles left and Price goes right, guns trained on where the woman has Tarasovich’s in a choke hold from the back. The man is bright red and struggling, but her legs lock his arms to his sides, ankles crossed over his solar plexus as his legs kick wildly.

Soap is dimly aware of Ghost and Gaz filing in, guns trained on the pair as he runs out of air and his struggles slow. His arms twitch, and then his legs kick once, twice. And he slowly goes limp.

“Rope’s in the top drawer on the left,” the woman huffs, not letting go. Price opens a drawer and pulls out a neatly wrapped bundle of thick, soft-looking, braided, red rope. He approaches the woman, and she dumps Tarasovich to the side. She stands and adjusts her bikini as he ties the man’s legs together and his hands behind his back.

When Price stands, she grins. “Hey there, Captain. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Bricks,” Price says, his own grin splitting his face as he pulls her in by her hips. Her arms settle around his neck and she smacks a kiss on his cheek. “Laswell didn’t tell us you were our contact.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” she laughs. “And who can turn down a trip to a private island?”

On the floor, the Russian grunts and starts twitching awake. Bricks steps over him and saunters over to Ghost.

“Hello, handsome,” she purrs.

Soap tries not to let his jaw hang open like a muppet. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Ghost sounds affectionate when he answers. “’ave fun skippin’ around in the buff, then?”

“You like it?” She turns in a little circle, wiggles her ass at him. “I know you prefer orange, but it felt like a pink kind of day.”

“Like your arse in and out of anythin’, lovie,” Ghost rumbles, pulling her close with one arm and lifting his mask up over his nose. “Give us a kiss.”

Soap looks to Gaz for confirmation that this is really happening. The other man looks just as floored as their lieutenant and this Bricks woman share the kind of kiss that reminds him of just how almost naked she is. Soap clears his throat and turns away.

[limulid-labs]

Brick Burglar (2024)

[brianfoehl]

The Powerpuff Girls & The Rowdyruff Boys VS The Powerpunk Girls (an idea) 💥🔥

[ender-draws-things776]

I only found sprite animated/edited ones…

So I made an actual animatic…

⚠️ LOUD!!!

[kociamieta]

they are real now. sadly

thank you @zarithial for their names !!!! in awe of your rain world naming powers

[zillychu]

Can we draw Cricketnose interacting with our ocs is that legal

of course! cricket loves meeting new friends! in fact she's on her way to see your ocs now!

[spaghetrikov]

Happy Valentine's Day from the Pizza Tower gang!

[acrobattack]

just grown-up things

[nem0-nee]

✳️[ "Nemo" - Dorm Uniform ] [SSR]✳️

"Out of the way BOZOS!!! Your local friendly Nameless Jester has finally arrived!"

A loud entrance fitting for a loud fellow... Be still, for there is a strange individual.

The spaces of Diasomnia, although eerie, can be quite welcoming to its visitors. However, this doesn't come across easily due to its dark, uninviting atmosphere. Thus, it's necessary for the presence of comic relief to lighten it all up.

All it takes is one obnoxious fool.

[ -.+ VOICELINES - TBA!! +.- ]

[dragonnarrative-writes]

WIP Wednesday

I have so many ideas for this OC, but none are cooperating with me.

Meet Bricks!

Simon notices, immediately, when the American girl enters the bar. First of all, she’s loud. Announces her arrival with a blast of laughter that rings through the room, for all that she’s surrounded by a group of rowdy people. Secondly, she’s dark-skinned, voluptuous, and seems to want everyone to know it. She’s dressed for the clubs more than a side street bar. Two guys she’s arrived with are obviously vying for her attention, but she floats over to one of the active pool tables and immediately starts flirting for the next game. Simon’s not immune to a soft woman with miles of leg, so he can’t blame any of them for welcoming her and her posse.

“Damn,” Kyle mutters, giving her an appreciative once over from his seat.

“What?” Johnny asks, looking over his shoulder like a fucking muppet. “Oh, damn.”

Price arches an eyebrow at Simon. “That good?” When he gets a nod, he turns to look. “…Damn.”

She has to know that everyone at the bar is looking at her, but she doesn’t seem to care. Just talks and laughs, flirts with the men and women around her like breathing. Simon never loses awareness of her. She’s in his sight line. But eventually, he’s integrated her into his awareness of the space. She’s a bright spot, but not rowdy enough to cause issues.

And then she passes their table on the way to the bathroom with her friends. She meets Simon’s eyes, gives him a quick up and down look, then winks with a little smirk as she disappears from view.

“What about you, LT?” Johnny’s voice breaks in.

Simon replays the conversation in his mind for a moment. Recruit performance. Lance Corporal Bennett. “Don’t much care for him. ‘S cocky and mean.”

“Good scores,” Kyle points out.

“He talks shit about the others,” Simon counters. “Good scores don’t mean shit if no one wants to work with him. We’ll see how he does with coordinated drills.”

“Now, Bakshi,” Price says, “he’s got promise. Scores are decent, and I can’t find a single person to say anything bad about him. Except Bennett.”

Johnny snorts. “Except Bennet.”

Simon lets the conversation fade away again. The pool tables are getting a bit rowdy without the American and her girl friends to dilute the testosterone. A couple of the boys over there are from the base, and they keep throwing glances over to the 141s table, and a table of other officers across the room. They’re keeping things cool. For now.

Just as chests are starting to puff enough that even Johnny and Kyle are paying attention, the girls reappear and diffuse the tension. The American says something that knocks the wind out of one boy’s sails and laughs as she takes his pool stick. She buzzes a kiss against his cheek, then playfully shoves another guy to rack. Just like that, the energy settles.

Simon lets himself be coaxed back into the discussion, especially now that the topics have strayed away from work. He can’t turn the hyper-vigilance off, but he likes going to the bar with his team. Likes talking books and TV shows with Price and mocking Johnny’s taste. He likes listening to Kyle talk music. He’s entering an artist’s name into his notes app, which is why he doesn’t notice the American strutting over until she’s right between Johnny and Kyle.

“Hey guys,” she says with a grin, leaning onto the table. “I thought about asking if any of you have a light, but my friends are leaving to get laid and the pool boys are boring. Can I hang out here until they lose interest? I’ll buy you a round.”

Price snorts into his whiskey. “They stop buying you drinks, then?”

“All they want to buy is drinks,” she laments, fluttering her eyelashes and pouting. “I’ve had three, but they’re not getting any more interesting. I’d rather have some fries and sit and chat.”

“Pull up a chair, bonnie lass,” Johnny says, which predictably gets the girl cooing over his accent.

She introduces herself as Ericka, an American student working on her Masters. She talks with her whole body, and doesn’t seem to know how to have a conversation without flirting. She hates the gym. She likes riding horseback, and winks at Simon when she mentions it. She “kind of pegged you guys as military. It’s the muscles.” She prefers whiskey over scotch, and her friends were supposed to take her clubbing tonight.

“But Tracy’s boyfriend hates going dancing, and she’s got a spine of a jellyfish,” she says, rolling her eyes. She’s waving a fry for emphasis. “So of course, we ended up here after I dressed up-up. Trust me, I know this is not a casual night at the pub type dress. I didn’t get the change of plans until the uber dropped us off out front. But I guess it turned out alright. I have no idea what kind of music I’d have been subjected to. Devon has shit taste, so I probably dodged a bullet.”

Even with as much as she’s batting her lashes and sending him interested glances, Ericka doesn’t try to make Simon talk more. With the rest of the table, she’s an excellent conversationalist. As he scans the bar again, he listens to her pick up the music topic with Kyle, drawing Price into a light hearted disagreement. Turns to Johnny with a pout for a tiebreaker. Which somehow gets them all into discussion of the best rock and roll genres. She talks, she listens, she engages. It’s refreshing. Most of the Americans they have to deal with are pushy and self-important officers and mercenaries.

Simon’s not above admitting that it helps that she’s beautiful.

After a couple of hours, it’s nearing 1am. Right on schedule, Kyle yawns. “Sorry, sorry. Not a night owl like some.”

“’S late,” Price admits. “Should probably head out. You have a ride home, Ericka?”

“Yeah, I’ll call a car,” she says, easily. “Thanks for hanging out with me, I’ll have to come back some time.”

“If we’re in town, we’re here,” Johnny says, grinning.

Outside, Erikca’s car gets delayed a couple of times, so Simon sends the boys ahead home and stays to wait with her. Price claps him on the shoulder and Johnny gives him an exaggerated wink. Ericka rolls her eyes and shoos them away when their car arrives.

“So,” she says, when it’s just the two of them. “Was I too subtle before, or are you interested in coming back to my place?”

“Barely spoke to you all night,” Simon points out.

“Come over and you can tell me about your tattoos,” she purrs. Then she smirks. “Or not. Up to you. But I figured I’d shoot my shot.”

[Super sexy sex happens here. Probably.]

Monday morning, Ghost sips a fresh brewed travel mug of tea and listens idly to Soap’s chatter on the way to one of the smaller briefing rooms. He’s looking forward to seeing Laswell, who’s on their side of the pond for a change. It’s always good for him to lay eyes on allies and confirm for himself that they’re alive.

It’s a shock, then, when he and Soap open the door to be greeted by Kate in deep discussion with Ericka.

Soap, of course, is more than happy to say what they’re both thinking. “What the fuck?”

When Ericka looks up and sees them, she grins. “Hey there, boys.”

Price and Gaz, when they arrive, are similarly gobsmacked. Once everyone is settled Lazwell stands.

“From your faces, you’ve all met,” she says. “So I won’t beat around the bush. Say hello to your new infiltration asset. Meet Bricks.”

All of them are speechless as Ericka lays four gray USB sticks on the table. They’re all the ones Price had distributed Thursday, with instructions that the keep one on them at all times. Plus an extra one. If Simon had to guess, Gaz was the one to have a decoy on him.

“Bullshite,” Soap says, pulling an identical USB stick from his pocket. “I’ve had mine on me the whole time.”

“Decoy,” Ericka, Bricks, says. “Slide the port out, you’ll see a pink dot.”

Simon pulls his from his pocket, pushes the little slider. Faded, but present, there’s a pink spot of permanent marker. “Fuck.”

“She’s one of the best infiltration assets we have,” Kate goes on. “She’ll be joining you to get information from Jacó Barboza. We have reason to believe he’s the link between Moscow and Rio, which opens the door to Bogotá.”

[limulid-labs]

Missing Persons Report (2024)

[bokureii]

Furret Veit strikes back

[musubiki]

i decided to keep the tail on the hat specifically for this reason

[jaedoesart]

Redid Brick and Makaio's bios bc they were kinda ugly tbh, and went ahead and made ones for Quentin and Fuckface while I was at it ^^

[alice-the-demon]

Pizza Universe (Pizza Tower x Steven Universe)

[in2thebunnyhole]

I love snowy brick buildings!