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flan-tasma · 6 months

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Hello :3 can I request a Lyney x female reader who is a mechanic, and Lyney flirts with her while shes working in hopes to make her flustered, but she ends up flirting back and makes him flustered instead, which leads to Lyney finding out he likes being topped by a girl in bed so, a sub lyney x dom female reader :3 Thank you!

💖~ I had a lot of fun with this, I won't deny it. I have never felt like this in my life heeeelp

Warning: Smut, Fem!Reader | English is not my native language, so if I have made any mistakes in the translation, I am open to corrections | Content in spanish and english!

Spanish:

Una sonrisa se dibujó en su rostro al escuchar el tintineo de la campana que dió el aviso de su llegada. El ruido del reloj constante entraba por uno de sus oídos y le salía por el otro mientras pasaba a través de los estantes de la tienda repleta de artefactos y cachivaches que, para el ojo de los desconocidos e incultos en tu tipo de arte, pensarían que era producto de un huracán que tiró todos los tubos y los engranajes alrededor de los estantes desorganizados.

Lyney había escuchado tu voz dándole la bienvenida a tu tienda, una frase que repetías casi de manera mecánica cuando la alerta en forma de campana sonaba. Tu entera concentración no estaba en el mago, cosa que lo molestó en algún lugar de su profundo corazón, sino que tu mirada estaba más interesada en el intercambio de los engranajes de lo que parecía un reloj en su más puro estado de metal y agujas desnudas sobre tu mesa empolvada, brochas, llaves y destornilladores te rodeaban como si solo hubieran sido tiradas sobre la mesa para esperar su turno de ser usadas por tus manos que jugaban con las partes del reloj, descubriendo poco a poco el rompecabezas que habías armado y cuyas piezas fallaban de alguna manera para caer en tus manos.

“Parece que ni siquiera tienes tiempo para saludarme correctamente, cher.” El mago, tan dramático como solía ser, se puso una mano en su corazón dolido por tu frialdad. Tus dedos se detuvieron al escuchar su voz, la sombra de una sonrisa en tus labios se formó mientras te quitabas los anteojos y los dejabas sobre la mesa.

La parte de atrás de la tienda es donde solías trabajar, era tu taller, no sé suponía que alguien entrara a tu rincón privado, pero Lyney siempre tuvo este pase de entrada, incluso si nunca se lo dijiste, él sabía que podía pasearse por dónde le diera la gana en tu tienda y tu taller. Ese era su privilegio. Solo suyo.

“Pensé que tenías una práctica para tu show de mañana.” Lyney no soportó un minuto más para tomar tu mano y quitarte tus guantes grasientos antes de entrelazar sus dedos con los tuyos y levantarte para fundirse a sí mismo en tu abrazo. Un sonido de satisfacción, como dejar salir sus preocupaciones desde sus pulmones, te calentó el pecho junto a su otra mano sobre tu cintura.

“Tengo un problema muy urgente y solo tú puedes ayudarme.” El mago sonrió, la misma sonrisa de un zorro astuto a punto de robar algo, la sonrisa que te hizo imitarlo con diversión. “Siento mis extremidades entumecidas cuando trató de subir al escenario, cher. Necesito que engrases mis articulaciones para que pueda volver a mi puesto como el gran mago que Fontaine conoce.”

El chico parecía obsesionado con soltar las peores frases para ligar referente a la mecánica, te habías enterado por Freminet que incluso llegó a pedirle explicaciones a él para planear sus avances al inicio de su cortejo, y parecía que no tenía planes de terminar con sus movimientos. Te sorprendió que no se le cruzara por la cabeza la idea de usar alambres y tuercas como serpentina un día de estos. Aunque no niegas que tal vez sí lo hizo y lo descartó para no hacerte daño.

La sonrisa victoriosa y orgullosa del mago te calentó el corazón, no importaba si querías meterle un trapo en la boca para que se calle mientras seguía soltando una gran cantidad de basura romántica mientras te hacía bailar con él en el pequeño taller. Su corazón bombeaba como el fuego de una maquinaria a vapor, estaba seguro de que necesitaría que le ayudes a transformar ese anticuado mecanismo en uno totalmente nuevo y moderno, así podría amarte mejor también. Tal vez podrías hacer algo como una fuente y jugar con la energía hidráulica para que sus circuitos te den pequeñas descargas eléctricas a distancia cuando pensara en ti.

Sus intentos de ponerte ese precioso color colorado en tus mejillas fue humilde, podrías clasificarlo en uno de los mejores solo porque su voz es preciosa mientras cerca de tus labios y acariciaba tu mejilla con la esperanza de que su magia haga aparecer tu sonrojo. Lyney era un buen hombre y merecía que lo reconocieran.

“Si es así, creo que debo abrirte y revisar qué está mal contigo.” Tu juego pudo haberse quedado en eso solamente, pero no te echarías para atrás, mucho menos cuando el propio Lyney casi se atraganta cuando le quitaste su capa y lo tomaste por los hombros para besarlo. Dio un grito interno junto a un reseteo de su propio cerebro mientras te sujetaba por la cadera y trataba de seguir tu ritmo, pero ya lo habías sentado en tu mesa de trabajo y los botones de su camisa se estaban desabotonando. Su sombrero y su camisa blanca quedaron en tu mesa, el lugar más limpio del taller en el que trabajaban normalmente arreglando guardias robots, ahora estabas aplastando el miembro de Lyney en tu mano mientras lo obligabas a no apartar la mirada.

Sus ojos casi se nublaron cuando tu mano lo agarró por el mentón y le abriste la boca con tus dedos, provocando que un nuevo jadeo se escuche dentro del pequeño taller.

“Tu caja de voz parece que funciona bien, por desgracia. Pero esperemos que una sobrecarga te arregle lo que tienes en la cabeza, amor.” Tu dedo pulgar acarició la punta del falo de Lyney, tus demás dedos parecían recordar las diferentes venas que eran parte de su carne, tu mano empezó a moverse más rápido gracias al líquido preseminal que brotaba desde la punta. “Parece que está parte de ti funciona excelentemente. Felicidades, parece que no estás lo suficientemente dañado como para tener que hacerte un análisis completo.”

Las manos de Lyney se aferraron a la mesa, tratando de arañar la madera debajo de sus dedos mientras sus piernas simplemente caían frente a él, sentía que su cuerpo caliente era arrasado por el espacio pequeño en el que estaba siendo jodido, pero poco le pudo haber importado en dónde iba a soltar su semen para cuando tus labios ya estaban dejando marcas en su cuello expuesto. Sus pezones eran muy sensibles, tanto que solo bastó que los lamiera para que manchara patéticamente tu ropa con su eyaculación.

“Ahí debería estar mejor.” Tu tono lo martirizó cuando tu mano no se detuvo, lo llevaste a través de su orgasmo hasta que prácticamente jadeó como una pasiva contra tu aliento. “Parece que aún no estás totalmente bien. Creo que necesitaré ser un poco más paciente contigo, ¿verdad?”

No pudo evitar gemir un patético “sí” contra tus labios, aceptando cualquier cosa que planearas hacerle en ese momento.

English:

A smile appeared on his face as he heard the tinkling of the bell that announced his arrival. The constant noise of the clock entered one of his ears and left the other as he passed through the shelves of the store full of artifacts and bric-a-brac that, to the eye of the unknown and uneducated in your type of art, would think that It was the product of a hurricane that knocked all the tubes and gears around on the shelves in disarray.

Lyney had heard your voice welcoming him to your store, a phrase you repeated almost mechanically when the bell-shaped alert rang. Your entire concentration was not on the magician, which bothered him somewhere deep in his heart, but your gaze was more interested in the exchange of the gears of what looked like a clock in its purest state of metal and bare hands. On your dusty table, brushes, keys and screwdrivers surrounded you as if they had only been thrown on the table to wait their turn to be used by your hands that played with the parts of the clock, discovering little by little the puzzle that you had put together and whose pieces failed somehow to fall into your hands.

“Looks like you don't even have time to greet me properly, cher.” The magician, as dramatic as he usually was, placed a hand on his heart, hurt by your coldness. Your fingers stopped when you heard his voice, the shadow of a smile forming on your lips as you took off your glasses and left them on the table.

The back of the store is where you used to work, it was your workshop, I don't know that someone was supposed to come into your private corner, but Lyney always had this entrance pass, even if you never told him, he knew he could wander around where would like in your store and your workshop. That was his privilege. Only his.

“I thought you had practice for your show tomorrow.” Lyney couldn't stand another minute to take your hand and remove your greasy gloves before intertwining his fingers with yours and lifting you up to melt himself into your embrace. A sound of satisfaction, like letting his worries out of his lungs, warmed your chest along with his other hand on your waist.

“I have a very urgent problem and only you can help me.” The wizard smiled, the same smile of a cunning fox about to steal something, the smile that made you imitate him with amusement. “My limbs feel numb when he tried to go on stage, cher. I need you to grease my joints so he can return to my position as the great magician Fontaine knows.”

The man seemed obsessed with saying the worst pickup lines regarding mechanics, you had found out from Freminet that he even asked him for explanations to plan his advances at the beginning of their courtship, and it seemed that he had no plans to end his movements. He surprised you that the idea of using wires and nuts as a streamer didn't cross his mind one of these days. Although you don't deny that maybe he did do it and he ruled it out so as not to hurt you.

The magician's victorious and proud smile warmed your heart, it didn't matter if you wanted to shove a rag in his mouth to shut him up as he continued spouting a lot of romantic garbage while making you dance with him in the small workshop. His heart was pumping like the fire of a steam engine, he was sure that he would need you to help him transform that antiquated mechanism into a totally new and modern one, so he could love you better too. Maybe you could make something like a fountain and play with water power so that his circuits would give you little electric shocks from a distance when he thought of you.

His attempts to put that beautiful blush on your cheeks was humbling, you could classify him as one of the best just because his voice is beautiful as he nears your lips and caresses your cheek in the hope that his magic will bring out your blush. Lyney was a good man, and he deserved to be recognized.

“If so, I think I should open you up and check what's wrong with you.” Your game could have stopped at just that, but you wouldn't back down, much less when Lyney himself almost choked when you took his cloak off of him and took him by the shoulders to kiss him. He gave an internal scream along with a reset of his own brain as he held you by the hip and tried to keep up with your pace, but you had already sat him down at your work table and the buttons on his shirt were unbuttoning. His hat and his white shirt were left on your table, the cleanest place in the workshop where they normally worked fixing robot guards, now you were crushing Lyney's cock in your hand while forcing him not to look away.

His eyes almost blurred when your hand grabbed him by the chin and you opened his mouth with your fingers, causing a new gasp to be heard inside the small workshop.

“Your voice box seems to be working fine, unfortunately. But let's hope an overload fixes what's in your head, love.” Your thumb caressed the tip of Lyney's cock, your other fingers seemed to remember the different veins that were part of his flesh, your hand began to move faster thanks to the precum oozing from the tip. “It seems like this part of you is working excellently. Congratulations, it looks like you are not damaged enough to need a full analysis.”

Lyney's hands gripped the table, trying to claw at the wood beneath his fingers as his legs simply fell in front of him, he felt his hot body being ravaged by the small space he was being fucked up, but little could he do having cared where he was going to release his cum by the time your lips were already leaving marks on his exposed neck. His nipples were very sensitive, so much so that it was enough for him to lick them for him to pathetically stain your clothes with his ejaculate.

“It should be better there.” Your tone tormented him when your hand didn't stop, you carried him through his orgasm until he was practically panting passively against your breath. “It seems like you're not totally fine yet. I think I’ll need to be a little more patient with you, right?”

He couldn’t help but moan a pathetic “yes” against your lips, accepting whatever you planned to do to him at that moment.

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hobiebrownismygod · 11 months

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Researching Characters so you don't have to Part 3: Miles G. Morales/Prowler Miles & His Accent/Spanglish

Art above is NOT MINE. Made by Binu Herath. Click for the link <3

I'm gonna refer to him as 42-Miles throughout this!

The main thing I've seen people trying to do when writing 42-Miles is trying to write him speaking Spanglish. However, if you don't speak Spanish at home or know some Spanish already, this can be pretty difficult to do.

So how do you write a character speaking Spanglish?

First of all, not a lot of bilingual people speak one sentence in English and the other sentence in their respective language. One of the things I've seen people do in fanfictions is write 42-Miles like this:

"Estoy trabajando en este proyecto. I'm busy right now." (I'm working on this project)

They write him speaking one sentence Spanish and the next in English. Now this isn't necessarily wrong, but it also doesn't sound completely accurate. The thing is, not many people will continuously switch between Spanish and English that way, especially if the person they're talking to isn't fluent in Spanish as well. If they are fluent, I'm assuming he'd probably talk fully in Spanish, and if they aren't fluent he'd probably talk fully in English. Now if you want to write him that way, like I said, there's nothing wrong with it, but for the people who want to make him more accurate, I recommend using the tips I researched below.

Bilingual people often confuse words and phrases from their respective languages together. An example of what would be a more accurate phrase that he'd say is:

"No eso es mi fault"

Miles said this in the first movie, and this is a great example of Spanish because he doesn't remember the Spanish word for "fault" which is la culpa, so he just says fault instead.

Another example of accurate Spanglish is:

"Can you hand me the, destornillador, destornilla-...the SCREWDRIVER, can you hand me the screwdriver?"

As a bilingual person, when I can't remember a word I often say it in my other language a couple times to try to remember and then say the word once I remember it. From what I've seen, this happens with a lot of Spanish-speakers too. This also goes both ways, where if he's speaking Spanish he switches to English because he can't remember a word.

If he's talking to someone speaking English, it wouldn't make sense for him to randomly speak some sentences in Spanish and some in English, so it would be more accurate to have him confusing words together and taking a little longer to remember specific vocabulary.

This can go both ways as well, so if he's speaking Spanish to someone, you can have a little "how do you say [item], oh, you say it like [item in Spanish].", basically the exact opposite of what I did in the example above.

Words and phrases aren't the only things that get mixed up. Bilingual people also often mix up the grammar of the two languages when speaking.

Spanish has pretty similar grammar to English, but there are still some significant differences. For example, adjectives come after nouns in Spanish, while they come before nouns in English. One example of a dialogue you could have is:

"Es un bonito vestido" (Its a pretty dress)

This is grammatically incorrect, because the adjective "bonito" came before the noun "vestido" when it should be the opposite. Normally, it would be vestido bonito, but someone bilingual like 42-Miles might mess it up, because in English it would be "pretty dress", not "dress pretty".

Finally, for filler words like "but" and words like "yes" a bilingual person might say them in Spanish instead of English when speaking English.

Instead of saying "but this", 42-Miles might say "pero this" because pero means "but". If he answers a question with "yes" he might say "si" instead.

But make sure to keep in the mind that nobody who's bilingual is going to speak to someone in a language they don't understand. If you're writing a 42Miles x Reader, it wouldn't make sense for him to talk a lot in Spanish unless its an xLatino!Reader or xHispanic!Reader. A few words and phrases is understandable but you should've overdo it.

Hopefully, I got most of them. I'm not hispanic but I do speak Spanish fairly well. However, if you see any mistakes with my translations or my grammar, please feel free to correct me! It'll help me learn <3

I hope this helps anyone who wants to write 42-Miles more accurately, and remember, you can use these tips for any Spanglish-speaking/Billingual characters!

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yoestuveaquiunavezfrases21 · 7 months

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1293- Toda mujer debería tener: Un viejo amor al que regresar en sus sueños… y otro que le permita darse cuenta de lo lejos que ha llegado. El valor necesario para alejarse cuando no la aman. Libertad económica suficiente para irse y alquilarse un lugar propio, incluso si nunca no desea o necesita. Una etapa de juventud que dejar atrás con gusto. Un pasado suficientemente rico en experiencias, como para ser contado al llegar a una edad avanzada. La certeza de que seguramente llegará a una edad avanzada y dinero guardado, suficiente para no depender de nadie. Un equipo completo de destornilladores, taladro… y al menos un picardías negro de encaje. La amistad de alguien que siempre la haga reír, y de alguien que le permita llorar. Un hermoso mueble en casa, que no perteneció a nadie en la familia. Un email, dónde recibir y enviar frases de aliento. Un juego de vajilla para ocho personas, copas y la receta para una cena que haga sentir espléndidamente a sus invitados. Una rutina de cuidado de la piel, un plan de ejercicios y un proyecto para enfrentar aquellas facetas de la vida que no mejoran después de los 30. Un inicio sólido en una carrera que le guste, una relación satisfactoria y todas aquellas facetas de la vida…. que sí mejoran después de los 30. Toda mujer debería saber: Cómo enamorarse sin dejar de ser ella misma. Lo que quiere con respecto a tener hijos, cómo Renunciar a un trabajo, terminar con un novio y cómo afrontar a un amigo sin arruinar una amistad. Cómo intentarlo todo y cuándo alejarse. Cómo pasárselo de maravilla en una fiesta a la que no deseaba asistir. Cómo pedir algo que realmente desea… de manera que casi seguramente lo consiga. También debería saber: Que no puede modificar el ancho de sus muslos o de sus caderas, o la forma de ser de sus padres. Que su niñez pudo no ser perfecta… pero que ya terminó. Lo que podría o no podría hacer por amor… o lo que debería o no. Cómo vivir sola… aún si le desagrada. En quién confiar y en quién no. A dónde ir a sentarse con su mejor amiga, o a una agradable cabaña en la playa cuando su alma necesita alimentarse y tranquilizarse. Lo que puede lograr en un día… un mes… y en un año. ¡Toda mujer es capaz de lograr esto y mucho más!

(Autor Desconocido)

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sigalrm · 1 year

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Triple Hex by Pascal Volk Via Flickr: The composite of 50 photos. Helicon Focus: A, radius 8, smoothing 4

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conanssummerchild · 1 month

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writing a fic abt rick having an ed bcs why would i recover when i can just project all my issues onto fictional old men in cartoons and pretend everythings better now ‼️

tw eating disorder, minor self harm and vomit near the end

Morty stopped in the open doorway of the garage, watching Rick who was sat scribbling down some kind of invention idea, or equation, or whatever it was he did when Morty wasn't around, for all Morty knew he might well be writing fanfiction.

An involuntary smile pulled at his lips at the idea of his almost 70 year old genius grandfather spending his free time writing silly little stories at his work bench. What would he even write? Ball Fondlers fanfic? Maybe he wrote about his stoic bird friend, Rick had always been touchy with him and Rick wasn't touchy with anyone.

When Morty focused back on Rick he wasn't writing anymore, the slightly crumpled piece of paper shoved to the side as he fiddled with what looked like a small metal box with a bunch of brightly coloured wires poking out of the sides. A small spark shot out of one of the wires Rick was holding and he cursed loudly, shaking his hand.

"Fuck, Morty, are you just gonna– gonna stand there, or are you gonna pass me the fucking, uh– the thing."

Rick waved his hand in the general direction of the shelf nearest to Morty, but there were so many assorted trinkets on the shelves, Morty had no idea if Rick wanted a wrench, or a hammer, or one of his laser guns, maybe the box was like a new battery for them?

"W-what thing, Rick?"

"The thing, Morty! The fucking– the uh, destornillador."

"What? Rick, I don't know what that means. W-w-what is that?"

"Jeez, Morty, what are they teaching you at that crap school you love so much?" Rick scowled, tossing the box to the side and getting up to grab the screwdriver himself.

"I havent been to school in like a month, Rick!" Morty exclaimed. "And even then I only got to stay for like an hour before you were dragging me out again!"

"Whatever." Rick said with a burp, "School's dumb, Morty. I'll teach you Spanish myself. B-but, uh, not now."

He turned back to his box, done with the conversation, but Morty stayed hovering in the room, remembering what he had come for in the first place.

"Okay, um, w-w-well lunch is ready."

"I'm busy."

Morty sighed, having expected that answer already. "When's the last time you ate, Rick? Or slept? Or... showered?" Morty said, wrinkling his nose a little.

Rick ignored him, pulling at a blue wire.

"Rick!" Morty frowned.

"What, Morty? J-jesus christ, what the fuck do you want?"

"I want you to have lunch with the family."

"And I said no, so screw off."

"Rick, come on, it would make mom so happy."

Rick glared at him, not bothering with an answer.

"...Wouldn't y-you do it for your original Beth if you could?" Morty tried.

Rick slammed the box on the table, causing the thin metallic shell to crack, sparks flying from it, the sudden noise making Morty jump.

"The fuck did you just say?" Rick snarled.

"S-s-sorry!" Morty squeaked. "I didn't m-mean– mean it in a bad way!"

"Get the fuck out." Rick said icily, eyes blazing.

Morty stumbled out of the room, shutting the door behind him to the sound of something crashing. Probably Rick throwing the damaged box across the room.

Morty winced. In his defense he was worried about Rick, and sometimes, depending on his mood, something like that would've gotten Rick to cave, clearly he wasn't feeling so sentimental today, more annoyed and angry.

"What was that about?"

Morty startled a little and turned to see Summer looking at her phone behind him.

"Just, y'know, Rick being... Rick."

"Mhm, pro tip, don't bring up his dead daughter to try and blackmail him into something he hates." Summer drawled. "You can only do that if he's already half convinced, or if he's feeling especially depressed sometimes.

"Summer! That's– that's messed up!"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, so only you can manipulate grandpa Rick?" Summer scoffed. "God forbid women do anything." She said sarcastically and turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Morty fidgeted with his hands. "Can you... help me? To get him to have lunch w-with us? Please?"

"Yes, but not now. He's already upset so if we double down on trying to get him to eat he's only gonna clam up."

Morty nodded. "I know that– but how do you? You don't spend as much time with Rick as I do."

"Because he's like mom. Who do you think got her to stop drinking before parent-teacher conferences at school?"

"Wow. That's pretty fucked up that you had to do that, though, y'know, Summer."

"Yeah, well, we're the Smiths, Morty. Is anyone in this house not disordered?"

Morty winced at the blunt statement, Rick really was rubbing off on her. But it was kind of true.

"Guess it runs in the family." He muttered

"Guess it does."

---

Morty hadn't been planning on seeing Rick again until the next day. He knew that when Rick got upset he needed his space. Morty didn't quite get it because when he was upset all he wanted was for someone to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay, but Rick wasn't like him he supposed.

If he was being honest it made him nervous to leave Rick alone in those bad headspaces he got into. Rick was volatile and unpredictable and a borderline danger to himself and often others. He'd walked in on a couple... compromising situations where Rick had had to explain away why he was passed out in his chair or why there was blood on his hands and his lab coat despite being the only person in the room.

Morty pretended to believe him when he said he had been doing a messy dissection experiment or that "This isn't blood, this is Balorkian dust I mixed with red Squanchenite fluid from Planet Squanch, Morty." But truthfully those moments haunted him.

However, he didn't want to invade Rick's space, so he let him be and tried to eat and sleep until Rick emerged like nothing had happened, even though Morty knew what habits of his went on behind those closed doors.

Of course Morty's patience had it's limits, like when two hours after he had left Rick in the garage, angry, there was the sound of something smashing, closely followed by an unmistakable sound that Morty had grown too familiar with since Rick had moved in. The sound of a body thudding to the ground.

He was up from the sofa in a flash, at the garage door before Summer could even put down her phone, flinging it open.

He felt like he couldn't breathe, but the only sight that greeted him was a smashed bottle and rick lying on the floor next to it, not looking any more dead than usual, looking up at Morty blearily, cracking a smile.

"Oh, hi Morty. H-hey buddy." He slurred, clearly drunk out of his mind.

"Jesus fucking christ, Rick." Morty said weakly.

"What happened?" Summer breathed, now standing at his side.

"He's just drunk." Morty muttered, wrinkling his nose at the overpowering smell that he hadn't registered before between his state of panic and shallow breathing.

Summer ventured into the garage, picking up an empty bottle and sniffing it. "God, grandpa Rick, what the hell are you drinking in here, fucking rubbing alcohol?"

"Sum-Sum! 'M just having some– some fun drinks. Fun drinks just a lil' bit. Besides I only ever drank rub-rubbin' alcohol once, n' it was– tasted like shit."

"What? I was being sarcastic, why would you drink that?"

"Because I was sad... was sad 'nd lonely after B-b-blood Ridge, couldn't find anythin' else. But 'm not s-sad now."

"What's Blood Ridge?" Summer frowned, "Actually it doesn't matter right now, you need to sober up."

"Get him some water," Morty interjected. "I'll clean up the glass. I also know where he keeps all his hangover serums and stuff, but he told me not to let you into any of his drug stashes."

"Fair enough." Summer shrugged, leaving to get Rick some much needed water.

While she was gone, Morty felt along the wall until he found the small hidden panel under Rick's desk. He fished out the light blue vial of fluid for hangovers, the red one he'd forced Rick to make that would sober him up and a green one that basically equivalated to getting your stomach pumped if you took it, just in case he'd taken more than just alcohol.

He shut the panel securely and placed the three coloured vials on Rick's work bench, grabbing a purple tube-like gadget from a shelf. He pressed a button on the back of it and typed in "Broken Glass" on a small hologram keyboard that emerged, then pressed that first button again. A blue ray shot out, scanning the garage, and the pieces of smashed bottle disappeared in a matter of seconds.

Morty looked over at Rick, who was still lying on the floor, but now he was tracing his fingers along a crack in the cold ground, his expression so solemn he almost looked sober.

"Rick?" Morty asked hesitantly.

"I miss her." He said flatly. "I miss her s-so much."

His words were still a little slurred but his tone had lost all the previous levity.

"I tried to save her, Morty, I t-t-tried, but I couldn't bring her back. And no one could ever replace her." A rough sob escaped his throat. Morty felt frozen. "I'm a crappy fuckin'– piece of shit father but I didn't want to be. I was gonna fuckin' give– give up everything for them, and I would've been happy. I would've been so happy as long as I had them, but he fuckin' took that from me! I nnever even got a chance."

Rick was crying, he was crying so hard that his tears stained the concrete dark grey and snot ran down his face sideways. He was shaking like a leaf and gasping for air.

Morty crouched down next to him, fists clenching and unclenching, unsure if he should hug Rick, or if that would make it worse. What else could he do?

"Oh– oh shit, Rick, I–"

"My little girl, my baby." Rick continued between sobs. "She meant everything to me. S-so yeah, I would be better f-for her if I could, but she's gone. There's no point."

Rick's sudden fit of violent sobs was calming down, replaced by a look that Morty could only describe as pure hoplessness and defeat washing over his features.

"'S no point in anything."

Shit, this was bad. Rick didn't admit defeat, and he certainly didn't talk so openly about his feelings like this.

"Aw jeez, Rick, come on don't– don't– don't say that. we killed Rick Prime, remember?" Morty said, wringing his hands anxiously.

"Yeah, I remember." Rick said, tone now devoid of emotion. "I remember killin' him with my bare hands, watchin' the life drain out of his eyes as his blood dripped down my fists. And I remember nothing changing. W-w-what d'ya do when you achieve your life long goal and nothin's better? It didn't bring them back, it didn't– didn't give me closure or give me a reason to live. I still can't sleep, petrified he's in the fucking house, comin' for my new family, that he'll kill all of you to teach me that t-that's what happens when I-I care about people."

Rick wiped his face with his lab coat sleeve, rubbing away the snot, drool and dried tears while Morty just kneeled next to him, frozen and unsure what to say.

"Rick..." he started but then Summer stepped through the doorway and Rick's demeanour instantly changed.

"Summerfest!" he called out and Morty watched, a little shocked, as Rick's whole face changed in the blink of an eye, going back to the cheerful, goofy expression he'd been wearing when he and Summer first came in. It didn't look artificial to Morty at all, even now that he knew it was. How could Rick just switch it on and off just like that?

"I brought water and coffee." Was all Summer said, placing two mugs on the workbench. "And a cereal bar."

The second statement sounded a little more unsure and Morty could've sworn he saw Rick's jaw clench for a second.

"Gimmie coffee." Rick said, making grabby hands, still lying on the floor.

"Water first." Summer replied, handing him the larger of the two mugs.

Rick pouted a little but as soon as the mug was in his hands he drank thirstily, finishing the whole thing in one go.

"You want more?" Summer asked, taking the mug, but he just shook his head quietly.

"Okay," Morty cleared his throat when his voice came out a little shaky. "drink this."

He handed Rick the red 'get sober' vial and Rick chugged it obediently, making a face. "Tastes like– like shit." He offered.

While he seemed a little calmer after the water and serum, his eyes were still unfocused and his voice sounded thick, like his tongue didn't fit in his mouth properly, hints of his accent were slipping through too.

"Did you- are you on drugs r-right now?" Morty asked, reaching for the green vial of serum.

"Maybe." Rick mumbled. His eyelids were starting to droop a little and he curled up more comfortably on the floor.

"Hey, Rick, don't go to sleep okay? What did you take?" Summer asked, crouching down next to him, shaking him a little. He groaned. "Come on, we just have to make sure you're not overdosing and then you can sleep. Maybe not on the floor."

"'M not overdosing." Rick grumbled.

"What did you take?"

"I dunno. Just some random alien drugs I found i-in my pocket." He said dismissively with a burp. "Actually one of 'em was probably adderall. Look at me bein' all responsible an-and takin' my meds n' shit."

He of course immediately showed his 'responsibilty' by gagging and then throwing up on the floor.

Morty winced, reaching for the purple device again while Summer tried to coax him into drinking the green liquid, frowning deeply.

Finally Rick gave in, sipping from the small vial, and almost instantly his eyes began to clear up a little bit.

"Why'd I make these work so well?" He groaned. Then, "My head is killing me, I want coffee."

Summer passed him the second mug and he gestured toward the hangover serum, which Morty promptly passed to him and Rick poured it in his coffee.

He gulped down half the coffee and sighed, wiping his mouth with his already rather dirty sleeve. "Fuck, that's better."

He downed the rest of it and placed the mug on the ground, getting to his feet shakily. He swayed and nearly fell, leaning onto the wall to steady himself as the dizzy spell passed, and then stretched, his back cracking loudly.

He took a few wobbly steps towards the door but Summer blocked the way.

"Fuck– fuck off Summer I gotta– I'm gonna go take a nap."

"Could you maybe eat something first?" She asked firmly, holding up the cereal bar.

"No."

Rick tried to sidestep her but she blocked the way again.

"Summer, don't fucking piss me off right now, I'm serious."

She stood her ground. "Just eat the cereal bar, grandpa Rick. Please."

"Summer, for fuck's sake, I said no!"

"Grandpa," She sighed, the arm holding the bar dropping defeatedly back down to her side. "Do you have an eating disorder?"

The garage was deathly quiet for a second.

"Wha-What?! I'm not a teenage girl in a f-f-f– goddamn netflix drama, Summer." Rick snarled. "What the fuck kinda question is that?"

He gestured wildly, taking another step forwards, which quickly seemed to be the wrong option as a sudden wave of dizziness hit him hard, making him almost loose his balance. He blindly tried to grab onto the back of his chair somewhere behind him, but missed and fell on his ass.

"Rick!" Morty and Summer both rushed to his side, Morty's eyes beginning to well up a little from all the stress of the day.

"I'm fine, don't– don't fucking touch me." He said, shaking Summer's hand off his shoulder, which caused another wave of nausea to hit.

"Please eat this." Summer said nervously, voice shaking as she pushed the cereal bar into his left hand, his right one gripping at his hair.

"Summer, I promise you if I eat that shit right now I'm gonna throw the fuck up."

"Please?" Morty pouted, eyes big and teary.

All it took was one look at him, and with only a brief moment of hesitation Rick snatched the cereal bar from Summer, muttering angrily under his breath.

Morty only caught "Me cago en la puta." and "Maldito cabrón." which he more or less understood, more familiar with swear words than any other words in the Spanish language.

Rick peeled away the wrapper slowly with unsteady hands and took a small bite.

Morty and Summer watched in silence, not wanting to discourage him by saying the wrong thing—which with Rick could be anything—as Rick uncomfortably ate the cereal bar.

"There you fucking go." He said weakly, Throwing the now empty wrapper at Summer, but missing as it was too light to travel more than a couple centimetres, landing somewhere by his feet.

"Thank you." Summer almost whispered.

They sat in silence for a while, Morty sniffling and rubbing at his eyes and Summer shuffling a bit closer to him for both of their comfort.

Rick was sitting with his knees losely bent and his head braced in his hands, trying to overcome another hit of nausea.

He wouldn't exactly say he tried super hard to keep the cereal bar down, but it wasn't deliberate when he vomited it down the front of his shirt.

"Oh! Aw jeez..." Morty winced.

"I did warn you."

"In our defense, you had every reason to be lying to us."

"Fuck you, Summer." It sounded weak even to his own ears.

She sighed softly.

"Morty, get his shirt off. Do you have pijamas or do you sleep in jeans and a lab coat?"

"Jeans an-and a lab coat."

"...I was joking, but okay." Summer said, flipping the switch that opened Rick's garage closet and grabbing one of his sets of identical outfits.

Rick squirmed, making noises of complaint as Morty tried to take off his current shirt.

"Rick– stay still, you have vomit on your clothes."

"I'm not fucking two years old, Morty." He scowled. "I can change by myself."

Rick tried to sit up but wobbled and then slumped back against the wall, needing more time to recover. Morty reached for his shirt again and this time Rick let him pull it carefully up over his head without resisting. Morty took the new set of clothes from where Summer had left them on the floor next to him.

Summer wasn't looking but Morty still shielded Rick's body from sight with his own, pointedly not mentioning the raised scars and jagged, angry, red cuts littering his arms which he had already suspected would be there.

Rick shifted uncomfortably, seeming relieved when Morty didn't want to talk about it.

"Okay." Morty said, helping Rick pull on his clean lab coat too.

"I'm going to bed." Rick grumbled, not waiting for him to continue, just getting up slowly.

He felt weak and shaky and his brittle old bones weren't exactly helping out. Despite his thousands of cybernetic implants he was still human, much to his dismay, and he couldn't treat his body as badly as he did when he was 30. Not that that ever seemed to stop him, managing to still maintain the same shitty habits he'd had for years at the ripe age of 67.

He stumbled through the dining room, Morty and Summer trailing after him, not discouraged by the glare he sent their way.

As soon as he reached his room, he slumped onto his bed with a groan.

"R-rick?"

"Fuck off, Morty." He snapped into his pillow, a little muffled by it.

Morty hesitated, exchanging a glance with Summer, who shrugged.

"...Ookay, Rick. Uh, see– see you at dinner, today? maybe?'

"Don't count on it."

Summer frowned, Starting to say something, but Rick interrupted, "I'm gonna apply my room's Lock Protocols in ten seconds, so i-if you're still in here, I'm not letting you out until I'm done sleeping. A-a-and if you're standing in the doorway, you're gonna get fucking squashed in the doors."

"Whatever, Rick, fuck you too." Summer huffed, pulling Morty out of the doorway with her.

"Room, activate Sensory Protocol 2. And t-tell Summer to go fuck herself."

"Sensory Protocol 2 activated." Came the mechanical voice and a heavy metal door snapped shut. "Go fuck yourself, Summer."

Summer scoffed. "Dick." Followed by a sigh. "What are we gonna do?"

"I-I don't know." Morty admitted. "There's not much we can do if Rick won't accept help. And he won't."

"So what? We just give up on him?" Summer asked accusingly, putting her hands on her hips.

"No, Summer, J-jeez. I just– We're gonna have to get creative."

"Fuck."

---

thats it thats the end i didnt know how tf to end this but my goal wasnt to rewrite like the bible idfk it was just to put rick through shit and put completely unfair expectations on summer and mortys shoulders so that they could ALL suffer in this fic !! :3 also this is so mf long i sincerely apologise if u read all that

#i feel like all the few rnm fics ive written are set in the garage im sorry 😭#thats where rick mostly is when hes not out in other dimensions tho ig #also even tho my fics r all rick centric i cant not have my boy morty in them #i just love him too much #also obligatory birdrick mention in the start bcs theyve been on my mind #also in regards to is anyone in this house not disordered let my drop my smith sanchez family disorder hcs >:)#okayyy #so starting off strong with beth: an alcoholic like her father probably anxiety stemming from her abandonment issues and possibly depressio #next up my boy morty: anxiety also and most likely ptsd from all the shit hes experienced ik a lot of ppl hc him as autistic but i dont #possibly adhd dyslexia or dyscalculia tho or all of the above idk #oookay next up jerry: i really spend incredibly little time thinking about jerry so idk im open to hearing hcs abt him tho #wait back to beth: maybe also ocd or smth like that #okay now summer: my girl has a lot of substance abuse issues as we see and fomo but idk if anything else maybe social anxiety or smth #aaand its rick time: alcohol and drug abuse definitely ptsd for sure depression and autism possibly adhd or bpd or both #in this fic he has an ed also so that #paranoia too #and thats it i think #also going back to the topic ofautism tho #i just cannot see it with morty at all like he shows no symptoms?? i dont see them at least idk i could be wrong #i honestly see it more with beth or summer maybe #but idk #also i almost never put the accents when i write in spanish lol but i did so #vey professional of me ik #gotta let rick say cabron properly #alex says shit #rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #summer smith #rick and morty fanfiction

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