#ive put so much time into this fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mishy-mashy · 6 months ago

Text

Kudo is actually such a kind, soft-hearted guy that had to toughen up because he cared too much

He looked at AFO's rule, and even though he was weak, he had that glint in his eye that has been referred to as the "will of a hero" to oppose him. A hopeful glint shared with Midoriya, Bakugo, and Hawks

He even parallels Hawks when they talk about that particular look in their eye

From a glimmer in the eye, to which eye is shown, how much of the face, a similar angle of the face, and placement of text questioning the existence of that light,

He stormed to kill Yoichi with Bruce, but couldn't, once he saw the state Yoichi was in. Even knowing he was the enemy, he still reached out his hand and never let go, even when they were running

When Yoichi died, even though they'd only been together for two months, Kudo still cried and froze up.

This is a reaction from a man who repeatedly used lives as a stepping stone for his own goal.

Kudo said himself, that victory was life, and defeat was death. He had killed and seen his friends killed over and over, but still cries when it happens again. And to someone he only knew for two months, at that.

Kudo gathered allies under his cause, and they were loyal enough to die for him. Bruce cries (still smiling tho) facing AFO, tried protecting Kudo when he froze up at Yoichi's death, and we see all Kudo's comrades dead in the end. Maybe Bruce was suicidal when he went to face AFO, knowing he'd die, but most of his comrades (and Kudo) were already gone. Their cause was snuffed out, but the will persisted.

Kudo is a bit like Aizawa.

A bit crass and blunt, doesn't like beating around the bush, but he can clearly see what kind of person you are. He's not openly kind, but you know he cares so much, but has also lost too much once. He's seen his friend(s) die, and shouldn't it have been him in that spot? Shouldn't he have died instead, but was forced to continue living for that dead person's sake?

His speech about why we call Abilities "Quirks", recognizing people's intent over raw power is the real power. (Ch 369)

He's blunt and goes straight to the results rather than beat around the bush, but it doesn't mean his heart is frozen and he doesn't care about you. (Ch 408)

He cares so much, and that's why he has to do so much. (His whole Resistance thing, figuring out how Yoichi's Factor works to make sure Yoichi and his will can live on in some way)

He recognizes that Midoriya isn't driven by duty, but that he genuinely adores Quirks too much. (Ch 414) He could look at Midoriya, read that immediately, and even though he looked through his memories, Midoriya's character was his takeaway. Not that Midoriya is an idiot for letting himself be stepped on, or that this kid was bullied, but that Midoriya could see the goodness in others.

Like how Aizawa saw that Midoriya was relying on the reason [It can't be helped] whenever OFA broke his bones and told him he can't always break himself just because he could be fixed (Midoriya's recklessness that showed itself on the first day of school). He called out something that was an underlying, innate belief to Midoriya, that was so normal to the teen, and no one else had brought up as wrong to him.

The first thing they perceive is a person's character.

When Aizawa tied up Midoriya on the first day of school, he wasn't telling him off over his Quirk destroying him being a PR thing or too gruesome for the public. It was out of the fact that his Quirk shouldn't destroy him, because it's dangerous for Midoriya.

Aizawa came off antagonistic, but he was looking out for Midoriya. He didn't want him to keep breaking his whole arm, he didn't want him to get stuck in the mindset that he had to get hurt to use his Quirk, he was looking out for his wellbeing from the start. A kid he didn't know personally until that day.

Kudo did a similar thing. He turned his back, and refused to help, because they were putting their hopes in a delusional boy who would go too far. When the vestiges realized their gathered Abilities and Quirks were letting Midoriya have the freedom to do as he wished, Kudo already knew, only saying "His path is the right one". He could relate to having to run full-sprint to see your goal realized, even if everything opposed him, but didn't want Midoriya to go through that same path alone.

If he were alone, he'd be like Nagant. He had to have comrades to be like Kudo, able to continue and stand for their beliefs, but having comrades to fall back on, or pull him back when it's too much. That's why he follows up in that moment with, "But, if there's something Midoriya does need..."

Kudo and Aizawa could see themselves or their comrades in others, and knew how to approach those character flaws that were normalized to others and said person.

Kudo could see others for who they were, and I think it's this, and his caring nature, that he gathered so many allies with him. He knew when to be blunt, when to show kindness, that the truth hurts but needs to be seen, was actually very logical and witty, and when to step aside and let people do their thing, even if it wasn't the best move (like saving All Might). Because that was what was best for that person.

It's not like people would join someone so wholeheartedly without conviction and being left unseen by that person. So many people were willing to die with and for Kudo, and Bruce believes in him so much.

When All Might's vestige was fading and becoming more solid, Kudo had to look away. They knew it meant All Might was dying in the real world.

Kudo was telling Midoriya not to intervene with Gearshift there. But once he saw All Might genuinely dying out, he couldn't look at him, and kept quiet. He stopped hanging onto battlefield logic of necessity, shut up, let Midoriya do his thing, and it saved All Might. It saved Midoriya from seeing his idol die in front of him, and Kudo didn't have to see another ally die beside him.

The chapter is literally called [We Love You All Might!!]. Even if it's just meant to focus in Bakugo and Midoriya, and only has 2 exclamation marks, it can't discount the world is watching. The vestiges care about All Might too.

When the vestiges come up with the plan to forcibly transfer themselves to deal damage, Kudo volunteers himself as the test dummy. Sure, he backs it with a lot of reason too, but he didn't want anyone else to go first as a test drive

He, with a Gearshift Ability that resembled a manual car, was the test drive. Ha ha pun- *gets shot*

En tried going first. Kudo rejected him, saying he would go first.

"Part ways with Gearshift [me], and you'll be free of the crippling recoil too."

Too. TOO.

KUDO JUST WANTED TO GO AND BE DESTROYED FIRST. HE PUT THE FREEDOM OF RECOIL DOWN AS AN EXTRA BONUS SO THEY'D AGREE WITH HIS CHOICE.

I'd cut the image so it looks better, and I can use Bruce's words elsewhere, but this is an image limit, so,

- Kudo refused to let anyone else go first. This was before giving reasons to convince them he should leave first

- En gives reason to why it can't be Kudo. Kudo just says, "Listen." and reminds them of now.

- Look at Kudo's face when he says that. The guy knows what he's doing when he cuts off En, and would probably be a horrible liar. He might as well be pulling this out of his ass.

He's said "The world will end" "You have to or else" "Five minutes" "You're going to die" a few times in this fight already. DUDE STOPPP

(Terrible liar and a guy who purposely eggs you to torment? What a great friend he would be [yknow, when u make ur friends freak out by being ominous or reminding them of stuff. Like Toast to Lilypichu in a game of Observation Duty])

- "Too."

- Bruce's trust in him, but knowing when to pull Kudo back from going too far

Also, when he's transferred, he smiles to Midoriya. He knows he's about to die again, but the last thing he does for Midoriya is

1) Take away the recoil of his existence as a Factor on the boy

2) Reassure him that it's okay, so it doesn't weigh on his conscience

Even if only in thought, STILL!

KUDO LOOKED SO PROUD OF MIDORIYA!

I bet Kudo is suuuch a sentimental fool

> [Be me and watch your new friend die]

> [I have Yoichi's Factor]

> [It's like I carry his will now]

> [Have a glint of opposition in my eye that drives the Demon Lord and my comrades (Bruce) crazy]

> [Hey Bruce, let's figure out how it transfers]

> [Bruce's common sense VS my rabid ideas]

> [I win]

> [Bruce was unwilling the whole time and still ends up with the Factor]

> [The Factor is named One For All, after something in Yoichi's favorite comic book series]

> [We pass it on to the future to carry forward]

> [Even as everyone else and me dies, I make sure Yoichi and his will are safe from his Demon Lord brother that locked him up]

> [Decades later, my sweet vaulted friend reminds me of when we met]

> [I turn around and give my whole-hearted support to believe in some 15-year old boy because Yoichi believes in him too]

SEN - TIM - ENT - AL!

When Shinomori was stolen by AFO, Shinomori pushed everyone away before they could really notice the invader. Kudo called out for him.

Everyone is in shock, but I don't think it's a mistake that the text bubble calling out for Shinomori is pointing from Kudo.

All For One made it through and is ready to steal them, but the first thing Kudo did was call out for the one at the very front.

[On the post I made that mentions Shinomori pushing everyone away] What if Kudo wasn't pushed away? What if this was him at the front, realizing the danger and turning around, but being unable to do anything for Shinomori when he saw?

Like Bruce, Kudo communicates. He doesn't expect you to just follow or understand him. He actually lays it out and makes sure you keep up.

He explains

- the transfer of vestiges, and why he should go first

- his Quirk

- why Quirks are Quirks

- reports to Midoriya what's happening and what's next

- to Yoichi why they couldn't trust in a delusional boy. In a way that wasn't Bruce's roundabout "we lived in a terrible era and a leader gathered us"

When En panics, he barks at En to keep up. By barking at him, rather than any other way he could've used his tone, it shuts up En in his frantic babbling. Kudo also lets Vestige Might put in his thoughts to understand better, and uses it.

Eye reflection. Kudo can really see people for who they are, and understands others, and himself.

I can't repeat the pics cuz image limit, but look at previous panels here. For example, Kudo saying Yoichi's will lives in him, and when AFO reflected in his eyes

It's something I learned from Re:Zero. When a person in reflected in one's eye, something something that person can see the true core of you, of what you really are underneath everything. The eyes are the window and mirror [glass] of the soul. I finally see the true you.

AFO never reflected anyone.

But Kudo reflected AFO when the man accidentally killed Yoichi. He saw that AFO wasn't seeing anything, so later, Kudo smiled and mocked AFO at his own death.

"Yoichi?"

"He's gone."

"You killed him, Demon Lord."

And AFO hated that reminder.

Kudo was reminding him of what the truth was. Kudo saw it himself, and AFO blocked it out from the get-go. Kudo already knew what AFO was, what he was seeing, what he was doing to himself by blaming Kudo instead of himself.

And then, Kudo's eyes reflected his own hand when he realized Yoichi's Factor was in him.

Kudo clearly saw himself, and in himself, Yoichi. Nothing distorted it. It really was a clear mirror.

He really perceived Yoichi's will was living on, and was right. Otherwise, his eyes wouldn't have shown it.

Kudo was right about AFO. It's even implied back when he and Bruce had their backs turned; Kudo knew what AFO's real goal was. That was back when AFO preached unity and division under him.

Kudo could always see right through AFO. He really understood people from the start. And he never tried making up truths to justify what he was seeing, facing it head-on.

Kudo's lying about the world being black and white.

Kudo and Bruce saw the world as black and white. This was mentioned in the void.

Kudo also says, "Victory meant life. Defeat meant death."

But it's the Resistance. It's when Japan and the world was at their lowest. The world wasn't black and white; there's lots of gray.

Kudo and Bruce would've seen this. Kudo even admits that there's gray, just not directly.

Kudo says Yoichi knows, how he killed and trampled so many lives, to get back at AFO. He knows it wasn't right, or an amazing choice. Later, he says that when your back is against the wall, you have to make callous judgements. These hint at gray moments.

Kudo and Bruce have faced and been in the gray. But it's too hard to make the right choices, and there are times there is no right answer.

Historically, soldiers would convince themselves the enemy were monsters. They wouldn't be able to fight and kill them otherwise. They wouldn't be able to live with themselves without believing in this so badly.

Kudo and Bruce had to have been the same way. They were Meta Humans [Monsters] in a time they were viewed as diseased humans. The monsters were real. And they had a Demon Lord. Kudo and Bruce literally dressed up as soldiers.

Even if they were monsters to society, being Meta, Kudo and Bruce were still human. They knew this. The ones who tried believing in only black and white were inhabitants of the gray itself.

But they have to protect themselves. Kudo is so adamant that the world is only black and white, because he can't stand the gray. What it makes him do, what it means, that he's too weak to do anything.

Yoichi is an example of that gray area. The mortal enemy's younger brother, was actually locked up and sickly. He's just a comic book nerd. And it humanized the other side Kudo opposed so vehemently.

Kudo says victory is life and defeat is death. And Yoichi asked why he reached out to him then. He reminded Kudo of that gray area, and Kudo opened up.

Kudo might avoid the gray area because it's a matter of the heart and a moral dilemma, but it's what makes him human. When there's no right answer in the battlefield, he decides on his feelings instead.

He wishes the world was black and white, because it'd be so easy. But it's not.

Yoichi reminded him of how entering that gray area led to OFA ("when you reached out your hand to me"), and it had been the best choice in the end. The gray area is real, and Kudo's left a bare man with only his emotions when he's there.

Kudo is actually really kind and understanding. He's too soft for his own good. Thanks if you made it this far, I hope it makes sense (tag and image limit)

#KUDO IS UNDERRATED NEEDS MORE CONTENT RECOGNITION HES THE KINDEST WITTLE BOY EVER #my thoughts #i think ppl who write resistance stuff should also consider that not everything was black and white #there will be moral arguments where you cant decide. and the resistance has faced those sorts of things where There Is No Right Answer.#kudo is really kind tho. exactly because he cares so much he does all these things and tries to harden himself #but like exoskeletons work - its only an armor to protect the soft squishy insides and keep them from drying out #i woke up and had to put this stuff down #me: *picks up a sentence note in my fic notes* *puts it down here and elaborates*#the line was in relation to putting down stuff about the vestiges to remember dynamics #[Kudo is the kindest despite appearances]#kudo seems like he would be fiercely protective over ppl he cares about. exactly because hes seen so many of his comrades die over and over #kudo #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #spoilers #ofa #one for all #bruce #bruce is the meme of “*chuckles* I'm in danger” and its just. Kudo w/ his new crazy idea chasing him down with Gearshift and Yoichis Factor #hikage shinomori #en tayutai #yoichi shigaraki #ive been thinking he was kind for a long time but never elaborated why. if u look at his actions words and thoughts it all makes sense #theres underlying kindness in there. he wants to be kind but the world would scorch him if he didnt have a stick up his ass #also adding on to the prev tag of kudo and fiercely protective- because in their times comrades were everything. otherwise you were alone #the world sucks resources are limited and youre a diseased human [Meta]. but you have someone willing to walk with you.#also about the [Kudo is the kindest] note among the vestiges- i dont think any of the other vestiges would do what kudo did #calmly volunteering himself rather than it being in panic. extending a hand and saving what shouldve been his mortal enemy. yknow

113 notes · View notes

becauseplot · 1 year ago

Text

Penciled Lines

(Cross-posted on ao3, if you prefer to read it there. Reblogs still appreciated!)

Missa wakes up, and he thinks he might be doomed. This doesn’t scare him nearly as much as it should.

Missa is awake early—by his own metric, anyway. His nocturnal nature causes “early” for him to mean “early night” and not “early morning.” Regardless, “early” means that Philza is not asleep yet, still going through his nightly rituals. “Early” means that Philza is sitting up in (his? their?) the bed, pillows propped up behind him, notebook in his lap, sketching away.

And when Missa wakes up to the soft scritch-scratch of a charcoal pencil on textured paper, his forehead just so happens to be brushing Philza’s hip.

Missa can hardly breathe.

Oh no.

He knows that if he gives any indication that he is awake, Philza will stop sketching, close his notebook, shift himself over until he is politely seated on his side of the bed, and greet Missa with a friendly smile. Philza has done it before, when Missa wakes up early. That’s how Missa knows he’ll do it again.

Thus, Missa can hardly breathe—his breaths have to be the slow in-out of sleep. He can’t so much as twitch, either. He has to keep quiet and play dead or else he’ll be found out. Seen. Caught living the lie.

“Husband,” Philza calls him. They’re not married. They share a bed. They’re hardly ever in it at the same time. They have a son and a daughter. Neither of them know Missa very well. Philza has had an extra set of armor and a skull on his backpack for months, waiting for Missa. Missa doesn’t even know Philza’s last name.

Philza is a good man and a good friend—and Missa doesn't deserve him. Still, he takes what he can get. Curls around it. Hoarding every innocent kindness Philza extends like a starving creature: the generosity of a backpack fully stocked with equipment; the trust Philza places in Missa to watch the kids when he’s asleep; and now, the courtesy of not moving his hip from Missa’s forehead to ensure his “sleeping” isn’t disturbed. Missa clutches all of these little offerings in his greedy claws and hugs them into his chest, even as the guilt eats away at him.

Because, regardless of the lack of mutual feeling, he loves Philza. He loves him so, so much, and that is why he is doomed. He can’t afford to lose what little he has. He can’t cross that line.

So Missa lies beside Philza, forehead pressed against Philza’s hip, pretending to sleep so he can imagine that they’re not just lying in bed together, but lying in bed, together; and later, when Missa truly wakes, he will sit on his side of the bed and look at Philza’s face soft with sleep and think about how lucky he is that he still has a side-of-the-bed to begin with.

Missa doesn’t mean to drift off. When it starts to happen, he’s hopelessly torn between shaking himself awake and thus giving himself away, or remaining how he is, silently fending off the inevitable. In the end, Missa clings to that scritch-scratch sound of Philza’s pencil on the paper for as long as he can before the fog at last pulls him under.

Eventually, he dreams. In fact, he dreams of the calloused fingers he dreams of every night, hands like his own, an artist of Death, cradling and shading the contours of his face—a softness dashing charcoal across his jaw, and over his cheekbones, and perhaps on his lips, too, if he’s lucky. Defining every edge of him.

~*~

A deep sigh. Phil stops sketching as Missa shifts in his sleep. He tilts his head up so that the tip of his nose is now just nearly brushing against Phil’s hip. The motion disturbs the wild splay of his dark hair, revealing more of his face: eyelashes, cheeks, warmth. Tender blush of something Stygian and otherworldly. New.

Phil’s lips tilt upwards. He turns to a fresh page, and he starts again.

#qsmp #pissa #qsmpshipping #qsmp missa #qsmp philza #i hesitate to put main character tags bc it's shipping content but i think we're all p much okay with that?? we chill??? we chill thumbsup #my fics #ficlet #anyway would you believe me if i told you this took me a week to write. hhourgh.#i'll prolly make small edits as time goes by if i dont scrap this version entirely.#i really like it rn but we'll see how i feel abt it in like a couple hours or a day. the sheer number of times ive rewritten this hhhhh.#this little character/relationship study is primarily for me to try to work them out in my head.#so if this doesnt quite hit the exact vibe you know why.#im still getting acquainted w missa's character but i gotta start somewhere ya know #i didnt actually get to explore missa's feelings of inferiority as much as i wanted to but thats bc i found trying to tackle that As Well-#-as everything else saddled the fic/setting w too many Things and made it cumbersome and muddied the story being told.#so another time perhaps.#anyway i adore them. beloveds.

175 notes · View notes

conanssummerchild · 3 months ago

Text

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