bizarorick - Tumblr blog

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Rick checking his phone

[This marks hour 106 since Rick has received a text, call, or voicemail]

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What's the concept behind this blog? Is this a storyline? Who's the curator?

After Summer left for college the Smith family falls apart. Morty gets a girlfriend, Beth focuses on her job. With all meaningful connections abandoning him, Rick decides to play a final game; Blue whale. The curator guides him through the game, which is only beaten when ones own life is taken.

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Rick displaying suicidal tendencies/behavior or general disregard for his own life.

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[Rick had grown to hate his reflection. However, he remained curious as to what he still looked like. With reluctance, he'd steal glances at himself and think, "Me".]

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A saddddddd drunk

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Sketch

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It has been 2 days since the curator messaged a new task. He wanted to tell the curator that he was correct and the family didn't care when they saw his arms.

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[There are infinite Rick's in the multi-dimensional reality. Rick's of all shapes and sizes, similarities, differences... Regardless of the Rick, it is Rick. As the bristles of a toothbrush tickle Rick's gums, he looks at himself in the mirror. He was Rick. That is his curse.]

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"I think I g-got a little too carried away..." "Its okay. Nobody is coming to save you anymore. Do another."

[As Rick's breathing hitched he stared at his phone. It was only 20 minutes in and he had gotten carried away. The curator assigns slashes until the fear of death has left.]

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Rick hasn't been able to sleep much lately. He is sure to always have an alarm set for 4:20 a.m just in case he passes out. Each morning he awakened with more cortisol in his blood than when he went to sleep. The dread of facing the day causes uncontrollable bursts of sobbing only moments after awakening. Looking through the tears he looks up at his phone and send his curator proof that he awoke at the designated time again.

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Forced cards 2 painting

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Working on a Rick whumpfic

Literally have not written in years unless it's comics/manga. Writing something pure text is so fucked after all this time, I keep wanting to add pictures so I don't have to describe things. Then when I describe things I get way too carried away.

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"Hey so-- is it weird that I haven't left my garage in five days and you're the only person who's checked on me?" "It's not weird at all, my cherub. Perhaps instead of asking why nobody has checked on you, ask why anyone SHOULD check on you. Name one reason anyone in your family needs you." "You always remind me just how stupid I am…" "Thank me." "Thank you…can I stay on the phone with you?" "Of course.

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"Why can I hear crickets in the background?" "I-I'm outside right now. I don't want the family to hear me crying. This is the first time I've left the garage since the crane task. I don't understand why you're the only one who gives a shit." "You're smart enough to infer why. Now record your crying with your other phone.. and keep the call going." "Alright.."