#so thank god it’s just one rick and Morty figurine
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Y’all ever see characters that are like If I were a more intelligent person to understand how complex you really are, or more of a stable person to where your failings aren’t so personal and grating to me, maybe I’d like you more ?
For me that’s Beth Smith, she just reminds me too much of my family as a whole, especially in the later seasons with Space Beth and stuff, like the way she’s such a distant mother to Morty but so loving to herself? The way she literally prioritizes her relationship with herself over her kids and how that makes them feel??? I’m just,, not a stable enough person to forgive her, I don’t think
#all of them need to be nicer to the fucking kids#but even summer doesnt really treat morty too well#even from the party episode#she conflates him and rick#while she’s ��just human’#be nicer to Morty!!!!!#biting and biting and biting#thinking about Rick and Morty again because. my broke ass bought another figurine.#at least it’s not figurines from my other hyperfixations#because rick and Morty stuff is usually ugly to me there’s rarely stuff I wanna buy from that fandom#some other fandoms have really cute stuff and would easily put me in debt#so thank god it’s just one rick and Morty figurine#it’s another mystery one#really *really* hoping it’s that adorable wasp rick one#and not one of the ugly options 😭#r&m#rick and Morty#beth smith#space beth#not healthy enough for this character
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Rickorty Week Day 6: "Say You'll Marry Me"
college-aged Morty | 2.8k words | Rated M, language, vomit, suicidal ideation, rock bottom Rick Sanchez
@rickortyweek
Morty throws the trunk of his dad’s station wagon shut with a thump.
“You sure you don’t need to bring my Ninja smoothie blender, Morty?” Dad asks, for a second time, standing on the driveway beside him with his arms crossed over his chest. The August morning is hot and clear. Gene’s sprinklers are going hard on the lawn next door.
“I think it’ll make you really popular with your roommate. You said they’re from California, right? They must be healthy. There’s a little more space behind the driver’s side–”
“N-nah, I’m good, Dad,” Morty says. He goes around to the passenger door to do a last check of his overflowing laundry hamper and make sure his video game console box made it in. He doesn’t want to forget Bonestorm III. All told, he doesn’t really have that much to bring, though, and the car’s only half full. He wears pretty much the same clothes all the time, and doesn’t have a ton of books or movies or anything. His booby bikini girl poster is rolled up in the footwell of the backseat and one or two of his robot figurines he just couldn’t part with are packed into cardboard boxes. All the advice listacles his parents found online for Summer’s freshmen year of college said that bringing something from home was important, so the idea has been passed down.
He reaches into his pocket and palms the little evil intent detector that Rick had made for him a few years back. A tiny credit-card sized piece of metal that reads people’s brainwaves and vibrates if they’re planning on hurting him or torturing him or whatever. They’d used it on an adventure, a rare heist –Morty can see Rick’s eye roll– but he hadn’t had the heart to throw it away. He’d gone back and forth for ages on whether or not to even bring it. He still doesn’t have to, he tells himself; he has hundreds of miles of highway driving ahead of him where he can just chuck it out the window and let it get crushed on the side of the road. He tightens his grip.
His mom comes out of the garage, checking her watch. “We gotta get this show going,” she says. The garage feels weirdly empty until Morty realizes it’s because Rick’s ship isn’t in it. Hasn’t been there for a while. He pulls his hand out of his pocket and starts loading the last few bags.
“If we don’t leave soon we won’t make it to our motel until, like, eleven, and lord knows what we’re going to find in Fresno after sundown,” Mom says.
Dad follows Morty as he transfers a final trash bag of gym shorts and shit into the back seat.
“What– what about my George Foreman Lean Griddle? Or, my Slap Chop? You never know when you’ll need onions in little cubes, those always make me cry….”
Dad sniffs, then wipes away a tear, even though he’s trying to look like he isn’t. Oh, God. He had volunteered to drive Morty first, of course, before being overruled.
Morty turns back and gives him a small smile. “I’m really fine, Dad. But thanks.”
“Oh my God, I’m sorry, just give me a moment, son.”
Something in Morty’s pocket buzzes. His hand flies to Rick’s detector, for a second, until he realizes it was the other one. He pulls out his phone and opens it to check his messages while Dad tries to get it together. Two are from Summer, who’s been spending her senior year of college in London with the textile arts department of her school doing fashion stuff.
dont let dad cry all over u little bro
cuz hes gonna
The newer message is from his girlfriend, Anne.
status report mortimer
Morty finds himself looking for some kind of message from Rick– which is stupid. Rick doesn’t text.
He texts Anne:
finally leaving lol
She responds immediately:
call me when you guys stop for the night?
Morty’s heart clenches fondly. They’re going to different schools to study different things in different parts of the country— newly separate time zones– and it’s going to be hard, but he likes her a lot. Enough to give it a shot. He winces as he remembers Rick’s deadpan dismissal when Morty had mentioned that he and Anne were going to do long distance over dinner a month or two ago. D–didn’t take you for that much of an idiot, Morty. As soon as she gets there she’s gonna be getting allll sorts of co-ed dicks in her mouth. But I guess you don’t mind sloppy digital seconds?
Ofc i will, he types.
Nobody’s heard from Rick in two or three weeks. Morty had kind of expected– well, he didn’t know what he’d expected, but he’d really thought that Rick would do him better than this. All he does is talk about how stupid Morty is all the time; maybe he’s pissed at being sort of wrong. He’d been straight up shocked when Morty got his acceptance letter in the mail, the packet fat in Morty’s hand as he raced down from his room to show everyone. While Summer screamed, and both his parents had cried, Rick had stared at the letter Morty was holding, hard, then sipped his beer, then turned back to the TV. N-nice one, Morty. A real cool sixty grand a year investment, there.
“Let’s go, Morty,” Mom says, opening the passenger side door. “I need some coffee if we’re gonna do this.”
Finally, Dad wipes his face. After taking a few deep, calming breaths, he walks over and sweeps Morty up in a hug.
“I’m proud of you, Morty.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“We didn’t think you’d make it, but you did. Of course you did. And that’s what matters.”
“Bye, Dad,” Morty said, leaning into the hug. “I–I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Morty doesn’t realize how much he misses the sound of a portal opening up until he hears one right behind them. Dad jerks back with a frightened twitch.
“What the hell–?”
Rick doesn’t so much step out onto the driveway as fall. He looks to be in a really bad way. Maybe as bad as Morty has ever seen him: scraggly and torn up, not even really standing up straight, too drunk for his body to cope with the flat, even keel of the pavement. One arm of his labcoat is missing, ripped off at the shoulder, and Morty’s thankful to see that the arm beneath is intact. Skinny, and maybe there are track lines, there, faint in the bright sunshine, but intact. There’s dried vomit crusted on his sweater.
“M-Morty, oh, God,” Rick moans. Morty feels a sinister shiver run over his shoulders and up the back of his neck as he watches Rick try to shield his eyes, blinking rapidly into the hot light. “Christ. Fuck.”
“Dad?” Mom asks, poking her head out of the driver’s window.
“Rick? Here to say goodbye to Morty?” Jerry asks, cautiously. Morty watches as he scooches himself to stand between his son and Rick, a little bit. A surprisingly brave move.
“Isn’t that w-what we’re all doing?” Rick asks back, taking a step forwards, then falling to one knee with a lurch as he loses his balance. “Saying fuckin’ goodbye— goAAUUGhodbye to Morty? Because he’s going away f-f-forever and never coming back?”
Rick’s drunken stare pins Morty to the side of the car, which had been parked outside so long while they packed that the metal is starting to get hot. The words sound like a taunt, but Morty can hear the truth there, a hard kernel in the middle.
“Hi, Rick,” he says, trying for indifference. In his pocket, he squeezes his hand around the detector.
Rick narrows his eyes. “R-R-Rick and Morty. One thhhhousand fuckin’ years. What, whatever happened to that shit, huh?”
“Dad–” Mom’s getting back out of the car.
“So I’m going to school. Big whoop,” Morty says, annoyed. Everything about this is annoying: Rick disappearing whenever he wanted then showing up just in the nick of time fucking shit faced like he’s trying to bail out the Vindicators. “You’ve been gone for, like, three weeks, Rick. And you didn’t feel the need to tell anybody about that. N-not that I would expect anything else at this stage. So, you know, whatever.”
“Three weeks?” Rick’s struggling to stand back up, now. “Three weeks?”
“You’ve never owed anyone anything in your whole goddamn– your whole stupid life, R-Rick. Not my family, not me. Not even Mom.”
Rick’s expression is foggy and drunk, but underneath, Morty can see he’s hurt.
“I think you should go, Dad,” Mom says in her stop-doing-this-right-now-or-you’re-fucked voice. “I don’t care if you portal out of here, or crash on the sofa to ride out your hangover, or whatever, but just. Let us leave.”
Somehow, Rick manages to get one leg in front of the other so he can advance up the driveway towards Morty with halting, wavering steps like a zombie in a horror movie. The detector in Morty’s pocket buzzes. Dad looks back and forth between them, scared.
“Three weeks, Morty?” he grinds out, again. He’s close enough now for Morty to see how bloodshot his eyes are. “I’ll give– give you three weeks. Y-you know what happens when you go to college Morty? You have four years to get too fuckin’ big for your idiotic little britches.” He grabs one hand around Morty’s bicep, grip crushingly strong. Morty can smell his rancid breath across his face, agitated, huffy. “And then you, you go and think you can do goAUUGHd, good things for the world, or whatever, you get those little aspir– aspirations in your head, Morty, you get these fucking ideas in your head–”
“It’s already been years, Rick,” Morty says, trying not to turn away. “Doing whatever, well at least, pretty much whatever, I-I guess, you wanted me to do.”
“– and you don’t even know how stupid these i–ideas are, until, boom, you’ve lived your whole sad-ass pathetic-ass life doing jack fucking shit. Goin’ and bein’ a techbro office slave narc or some shit. I just can’t, I just can’t ffffucking– oh fuck—”
Rick starts to throw up pretty spectacularly all over the ground, and the side of the car, and on Morty’s sneakers.
“Oh my god, Dad!”
“Oh, Rick that’s just disgusting!!”
Morty just stays quiet until Rick seems finished and he slumps against the car, moaning. He watches as Rick slides down until he’s half knelt, half crouched by the front bumper, the vomit running down the gentle slope of the driveway to touch his shoes and the spread hand on the ground that’s keeping him from falling on his face. He makes a sound when Morty comes closer, a sort of whimper. Morty gets down beside him. Unable to stop himself, he puts a hand on his grandpa’s back and starts rubbing little circles as Rick groans, spitting out a wad of bile. There are a lot of different colors in the vomit, ones Morty can’t recognize even though he’s pretty familiar with Rick’s binge habits by this point.
“Fuck youUUGh. Fffffuck you, Morty. I– I mean that. So much. '' Rick’s staring at the ground. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his hand. Morty wonders if maybe he’s going to be sick again.
“Yeah, fuck you, too, man,” Morty says, but there’s no heart in it. He just feels sad. He wishes– he doesn’t know what he wishes.
“F-forever. Fuck you, forever,” Rick mutters quietly, almost to himself. Little dark spots show up on the driveway beneath his head, and Morty realizes he’s crying. Or maybe it’s post-vomit drool? It’s hard to see his face.
“M-Morty, Morty listen to me,” Rick says. He sounds defeated, almost confused. As old as he really is.
“I’m listening, Rick.”
“I’m gonna do somethin’ stupid. Sooo, so stupid.” Rick’s still staring at the ground.
Dad’s shadow has crept next to Rick’s foot. “Rick, I really don’t think–”
“Whatever you’re about to do, think twice before you traumatize my son,” Mom says. Then she pauses and adds: “More.”
Morty keeps rubbing circles across Rick’s knobby spine. “What, Rick? What– what’re you gonna do?”
“Say you’ll.” Rick chokes a little.
“Say what?”
“Say you’ll marry me, Morty.”
Morty blinks. “What?”
“JeEUGHsus Christ, don’t make me say it again.”
Morty’s body is a live wire. His hand scrunches the back of Rick’s coat tightly. “No. Say it again.”
Rick stares up at him with watery eyes.
“Marry me,” he says, quietly. Pathetically. There’s some drool and left-over throwup clinging to his chin.
There was this one adventure they’d gone on where Morty had mangled his leg so badly that his shin bone had actually broken the surface of his skin. Burst right through below his kneecap, like a jagged, bloody tooth. It was screamingly painful– Rick actually had to knock him out until he was able to fix it with some nanobots. Morty realizes that this is the same as that; that this is some core part of Rick, torn through all the heaped layers of nihilism and drugs and whatever else poisons who his grandpa is. This is the exposed bone.
When Morty looks up at his parents, he can’t read the expressions on their faces.
“I– I’m not a good person, Morty,” Rick says, grabbing weakly at Morty’s t-shirt to get his attention again. Like he can’t bear to let Morty look anywhere else. He sounds like he’s really losing it. “I’m a horrible person, Morty. Say– say that you’ll marry me. God, I’ll blow my fuckin’ brains out if you don’t— let’s just g-g-get out of—oh my God—”
Morty’s pocket vibrates. He doesn’t know if it’s the detector or his phone, and he should care, should be terrified, but he doesn’t.
He isn't.
—
Turns out, Shoney’s is a regional chain.
Morty doesn’t realize this until they reach the last one at the edge of the state, just before they cross the border. ‘Last Shoneys for the next 24,800 miles,’ says the sign at the exit. There’s a graphic of an arrow reaching all the way around the globe, back to the little point on the map they’re driving through. Morty has traveled the multiverse with Rick, to places billions of light years away, so far away time doesn’t mean anything at all, but somehow this is already the longest trip he’s ever taken. Like that one scene in the Lord of the Rings where Sam crosses the corn field. If I take one more step, this’ll be the furthest from home I’ve ever been. That was a really good movie, Morty thinks.
His mom throws the car into park. She’s had to adjust the driver’s seat to be closer to the steering wheel because her legs are shorter than Dad’s, and change all the mirrors, too. She drives way faster than him, swerving lanes to cut around traffic like a maniac. Maybe that runs on her side of the family.
“Food?” she asks, simply. Morty nods. He twists to look over his shoulder.
“Rick?”
Rick stirs in the back seat, thin eyelids fluttering. They’d made space for him by shoving over a bunch of the boxes to one side and moving some to the trunk. There aren’t really that many, anyways. He’s wearing a clean pair of pants and a t-shirt that belongs to Dad, which helps, but he still has an undernote of puke and sweat.
He makes a hungover-sounding groan. He still hasn’t opened his eyes.
“You want Shoney’s?” Morty asks. “L-last chance.”
“Shoney’s, you say?” He cracks an eye open, gaze flickering around to look up at the building they’re parked at. “Didn’t know they had them out here. O-on earth, I mean.”
Mom watches him silently in the rearview mirror. Rick just looks at Morty.
“Y-you know what, fuck it, sure,” he says finally, popping open the car door and getting out. The sun is even hotter, here, and scorching air blows into the car when he slams it closed. Mom and Morty do the same, one, then the other.
Together, they go inside to eat lunch.
#rickortyweek2024#rickorty#rickmorty#my writing#once again#these just keep getting longer#i am sorry i am failng the idea of a ficlet#tense changed btw
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When you get this, please reply five things that make you happy and send this to the last ten people in your notifications 💙 (you don't have to answer this if you don't want to)
This is such a cute ask! 🖤 Sorry it took me so long to answer but here's my five things:
1] G/T Fluff!
Of course this is my first choice! I always find it so comforting to read/draw/daydream about cute g/t scenarios. I have pretty bad anxiety, but imagining a giant holding me and helping me through it always makes me feel better 🥺💕
I still need to get better at writing and drawing it, but you guys are always really supportive when I do post and it makes me love this niche interest + community even more! 🖤
(Plus the Iron Giant is my favourite animated film of all time and I'm 80% sure it's the reason I love giants, robots and animation as much as I do-)
2] YUNGBLUD!
His music just means so much to me and I love everything that he stands for! I've been to four of his concerts so far and I swear he gets even more amazing every time 🥺🖤
When I saw him with my mom last week I completely burst into tears when he performed 'God Save Me (But Don't Drown Me Out)' cus I absolutely adore that song and being able to just shout along with the lyrics "I won't let my insecurities define who I am! Not gonna waste my life cus I've been fucked up!" Was something I really REALLY needed, he performed it at 3 of the shows I went to and every time it was perfect 😭🖤 Honestly a LOT of his lyrics resonate with me on a really personal level, but that one is definitely one of my all-time favourites 🖤🖤🖤
3] Collecting Things!
I have so many figurines, collectibles, plushies and things like that, I literally need new shelves to fit all my stuff on 😭😂 Plus my Ita Bag is stuffed full of pins and keyrings, I preordered the new NSP ALBUM which comes with a Pin and I'm gonna have to rearrange my whole bag to fit it in 😅
My parents are the same too, I blame them for making me such a nerdy hoarder 💀
I'm too lazy to find a pic of everything but here's my Funko Pop! Figures of Hologram Rick, Dom and the Iron Giant! 🥺🖤
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4] Cartoons
I literally wouldn't be where I am today if I didn't watch cartoons, I literally want to make them for a living! 😂💕 I just adore animation so much, I won't list all of my favourites cus we'd be here for way too long but my Top Five are South Park, (Classic) Simpsons, Rick and Morty, Futurama and My Little Pony! 🖤 (And that's just the TV shows I like, if I listed films we'd definitely be here for too long)
Those shows have inspired me a lot over the years and I really hope I can make something as awesome as them one day 🥺💕🖤
Ooh and one other thing is Shoocharu's NSP Animations! Those seriously inspire me a LOT and I'm hoping to try animating a full music video soon too 🖤
(Also I'm just a massive simp for some cartoon characters okay-)
5] Taskmaster!
It's one of my favourite TV Shows of all time! I love how ridiculous it gets sometimes, if I'm feeling a bit down I'll just watch clips from it and it cheers me up a lot 😂🥺💕
Plus I usually end up simping for at LEAST one contestant per series (and Greg Davies ages like a fine wine so every new season I love him more 👀😂)
Thanks again for the ask! 🖤
#ask#answer#g/t#yungblud#I'm so tired this took ages to write aghdhsjfjss#cutetinyartist#tinyartisttalks
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