#wickrick

Citadel work is Citadel work.

With all the PAPERWORK that’s been filed through, not to mention the INCESSANT amounts of Ricks and Mortys that constantly came to greet him into office, it all began to RAIN heavily on his shoulders in sheer amounts. First you need to meet this Rick; he’s in charge of the Guard. Now you need to meet this Rick; he’s your hair stylist-

And now?

An Assassin.

Why did the Citadel need an assassin? Ricks were notorious for going in headfirst and ready to cause a ruckus should they need to. With an assassin, it only defeated the purpose of having EVERYTHING else. But maybe this could be a good thing?

          “ oh god, sorry -- i’m just a little -- “

               the blonde is frazzled to a t, a sheet pan of those                 idiot-proof ready to bake cookies burned and smoking                 there on the stovetop. at least beth TRIES to be a                 good hostess -- 

          jesus fuck, where is that rosé ?

               “ yeah, baking is just -- NOT a thing i do. i think jerry hides                  the oreos behind the wheat germ. “

          beth doesn’t usually get to meet OTHER ricks. that’s the sort of           fun seemingly reserved for rick and morty of their many adventures --           something she, admittedly, romanticizes BADLY.  i just want to spend           time with you !

{Send a “🌹” if Your Muse thinks Mine is Beautiful/Handsome}

“Another? Goodness i can barely contain all these.” 505 chuckled, taking another rose from the man. 

Out in the middle of nowhere, in a house on the smallest planet in the current galaxy he found himself in, Mortimer lay sitting on his desk, wires and cords hooked up into the empty socket where his eye used to be. Downloading his most recent memory into his computer, Mortimer lay in wait, his prosthetic eye in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. 

Recently, he’d just got back from Flarbellon-7, wondering what those Penps were about. He’d recall his old Rick saying something about their stomach making an extremely potent psychotic. But, having experienced them for himself....Mortimer realized that they were endangered. He would have ran some tests, but decided against it in the end.

Still, Mortimer would have to return later.

Leaning back into the wall, grumbling something under his breath as he worked. His prosthetic eye sparked, flickering back on as it reactivated. There. Now that that was done, all he had to do was wait for the download to finish. Then he could continue working on his map. Mortimer sets his eye aside, boredly drumming his fingers along the desk.