life gambler.

               𝑖 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒, 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦. 

an independent  adaptation  of  𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚘'𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚕  from  ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴜᴍᴍʏ  franchise.  elements from rick's story have been changed and adapted into  modern times.  an exploration of  explorations,  a heart of gold with a  short fuse,  love through the centuries,  undying loyalty and  being a himbo with a pistol.   affiliated with  @bibliotology .  𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜.  ( she / her, 21+ )  

           ❝ jesus christ man, chill out ! ❞ rory nearly trips back on her own feet as she holds her hands up in surrender, the crumpled bill in her fist. now rory wasn’t a thief , not exactly , but she was barely navigating the bustling streets. and she didn’t have any local currency on her. it was a miracle she managed to stowaway herself here.  ❝ this is like what , twenty pounds ? ❞

            words   moved   to   trigger   nothing   but     hues   of   amusement     upon   hitherto   bridled   countenance ,        glare   flickering   under   same   tones   of     delight     under   rick’s   faint   exasperation :        nothing   druig    wasn’t   expecting   to   face   in   the   close   of   assigned   mission .        still ,        eternal   stood     motionless     against   it   all        ―        hands   calmly   aback   his  figure   whilst   narrow   line   of   his   shoulders   remained     relaxed  .

               ❛   is   that   so ?   ❜              druig   finally   asked ,       his   head   ever   so   slightly   tilted   to   the   side ,       assessing   the   situation   with     typical   lull     to   clash   against   rick .               ❛   i   remember     warning     you   about …        difficulties   you   could   encounter   along   the   way .        you   should’ve   changed   your   price     before     you   left .   ❜

with   romantic   moment   broken   but   still   lingering   it’s   warmth,      evy   takes   it   as   a   welcome   sign   to   putter   about   the   study   and   continuing   the   previous   work   of   throwing   selected   texts   in   an   awaiting   suitcase      -      busy   work   so   that   she   can   come   up   with   an   answer   that   will   suffice.      ❝      fine.      I’m   joking.      ❞      she   breaks   pace   with   a   breathtaking   smile,      one   that   would   have   stopped   the   man   in   his   tracks      …      had   it   not   been   so   accustomed   to   it’s   meaning.

❝  hey,  i figured we were just gonna chalk it up to mere coincidence like we always do…  ❞  a brow dives,  mainly from how that signature warm welcome of his drops cold.  ❝  contrary to popular belief,  not every other bastard out there is looking for potentially cursed items.  that crown is yours.  ❞

❝      you   do   have   a   soft   spot   for   me,      rick   o’connell.      ❞      truth   meets   levity   as   her   finger   rises   to   boop   the   tip   of   his   nose.      ❝      it   might   not   be   a   god   this   time.      it   could   just   be   your   regular   run-of-the-mill   mummy      -      a   pharaoh   at   best.      ❞

❝      i’d   call   that   £32,000   pounds   well   spent,      mr.   o’connell      -      give   or   take   a   few   sterling.      for   what   it’s   worth,      in   the   entirety   of   that   prison   in   cairo,      you   seemed   the   least   likely   to   leave   my   brother   and   i   in   the   desert   to   die.      ❞

            ❝ so you’re the husband. ❞    lara’s nail catches on the peeled sticker of her chilled stella beer, already warming in cairo’s heat despite being indoors.    ❝ i had a bad feeling. ❞   lara shrugs her shoulders, though the corner of her lips is turned up in amusement at the disruption she seems to have caused the renowned treasure hunter.     ❝ i’ve learned the hard way it’s better to be safe — or in this case, wrong — than dead. don’t you agree ? ❞   lara finally lifts the bottle to her lips as calls for the bartender first to order another for her companion, ‘ wahda tanya law samaht. ‘ and sweeps her hand towards the empty stool next to her.   ❝ i suppose i do you owe a drink though. ❞

   she,  like  everything  else  in  this  place  was  drawn  to  the  yelling.  and  in a  way,  she  had  thought  ( foolishly )  that  someone  had  come  to  find  her.  that  they  found  another  way  in  to  save  her.  days  had  gone  by,  SHE  THINKS  and  no  word  yet.  in  time,  she  had  to  try  to  venture  out  from  the  school  –  hoping  she  could  breakthrough  elsewhere.  but  her  powers,  seemed  lighter,  tired.  terror  would  prickle  up  her  bare  neck,  the  concept  of  never  getting  out  looming  high.  but  she  had  saved  her  friends,  not  as  a  monster,  but  a  superhero.  

the  yell  rings  out  louder,  and  it  sounds  familiar.  it  echoes  from  her  right,  causing  her  to  take  off  at  a  light  jog  until  she  sees  the  DEMOGORGON  perched  over  a  man.  the  police  man ?  she  raises  her  hand,  willing  that  current  of  power  forth,  feeling  the  BLOOD  pulsing  in  her  head,  causing  an  ache.  wet  drips  from  her  nose,  and  the  creature  flies  off,  landing  with  unforgiving  weight  towards  the  hard  ground.  scurrying  off,  she  watches  it  go,  stepping  forward  before  she  sees  the  gun.  NONONONONO !  she  herself  dashes  behind  a  tree,  breath  coming  in  heavy  exchanges.  eleven  wouldn’t  be  able  to  fling  him  too,  not  so  soon  after.  

peering  around  the  rotting  bark,  she  sees  him,  the  gun  still  aimed  at  her.  was  she  real ?  she  thinks  so,  still  real  –  but  she  didn’t  know  for  sure  if  she  was  a  ghost  or  not.  “ trapped. ”

in his experience,  the monsters ‘round these parts didn’t  run off scared.   well,  now he feels like an  asshole.  rick watches the child  ( who may still be a tiny monster, mind you  )  dash off to find some cover,  and feels his finger involuntarily loosen its grip around the trigger.  something about  nature  and the desire to  protect  than younglings rather than  shoot  at ‘em.  go figure.  

taking a deep breath  -  while aware that he may be  wrong  and this could be some sort of trick still  –  he takes the chance to holster his gun again and holds his arms up as he approaches the tree that the kid has hidden behind.   ❝  sorry!  i put it away!  ❞   he lets her and possibly every other creepy crawley around them know and reaches the base of the tree,  where he crouches down to be at her eye level.  an even  dumber  move,  should she be evil,  but it’s fine.  he’s already embraced the stupid.  

❝   ...  nice hat.  mind if i borrow it?  ❞