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nartml · 9 months

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Toothless (and generally most dragons) lost all his personality in thw.

Gone was the loyal, protective, intelligent, curious, silly, expressive, understanding, and sassy/snarky dragon we adored more and more through each new installment in the franchise.

Who is this puppy in thw and what did he do to Toothless?

Look me in the eye and tell me that if anyone, dragon or not, was to pluck Hiccup off his back and send him into the ocean to die, they wouldn't get a minimum of two blasts in the face.

Yes, Toothless is playful and silly and adorable, but only around the people/dragons he trusts, and especially around Hiccup specifically.

Otherwise, his guard is up, he is wary, and he himself has to evaluate whether or not someone is safe to be around.

"Hey, I guess Dean dumbed him down because he wanted to show the effects of domestication—"

Woah there, big words.

Domestication? The definition of domestication is "the process of taming an animal and keeping it as a pet or on a farm".

That is not what's happening on Berk.

Dragons were never pets to humans. (If anything, humans were their pets.)

They stood by the Vikings' sides out of their own volition, and were free to come and go as they pleased.

We see this clearly in GoTNF.

They wouldn't let a human they didn't trust so much as touch them, let alone allow them anywhere near their backs.

They are the ones that choose their riders, or if they even want one, not the other way around.

And they weren't exactly "tamed" either. Or rather, nobody tried to alter their nature and innate instincts.

In RoB, we clearly see that Vikings are the ones who adjust, who adapt accordingly, because dragons are gonna do what dragons do.

And those instincts of theirs were honed. They weren't tamed, they were trained.

The notion that wild dragons are more powerful because they're wild makes no sense to me, because while wild dragons have raw power and raw instinct, trained dragons arguably have more than that.

They learn to work with other dragons, and they're able to pull off some incredible moves, because their bodies are, well, consistently trained.

They go on dangerous missions on the regular, for fuck's sake. During which, they also have to think. The dragons aren't told what to do, nor are they steered by their riders constantly (and when they are, the dragons trust them to do so)

They can take the reins as well (and when they do, the riders trust them to do so), but most of the time, they both move together in sync, understanding what, and how it, needs to be done.

In what world would such a lifestyle weaken them, or threaten to erase their aforementioned instincts?

I don't get Dean's point.

And Hiccup? What's up with the poor decision making?

Because I know damn well Hiccup wouldn't let dragons take over Berk to the point where, within the first ten minutes of the movie , half of it collapses. An event which apparently everyone is used to, because nobody worries about it.

He put an ocean between Garff and a couple of dragons because of how incompatible they were, in terms of needs and way of life.

He relocated dragons constantly, so as not to overcrowd and/or to protect the Edge.

Even when he was, what, 15 in RoB/DoB, he was mindful of the way he handled situations, to ensure Berk and the Vikings wouldn't be overwhelmed with dragons.

He understood that it's impossible for thousands of dragons to cohabitate with humans, and with each other, peacefully and without chaos.

Not to mention, he respected dragon culture and understood that some spaces were not made for the human eye. He made such a big deal about revering Vanaheim, and you expect me to believe he'd be okay with just exposing a place called The Hidden World, a delicate draconic paradise?

And wow, way to go, let's uproot the ENTIRE village, and go searching for this place that we don't even know for sure exists? Yes, very responsible.

And why not just make a life-changing call without consulting anyone, or thinking it through, based on what you alone think is best, while you're at it? Sounds like a great idea.

It's not like in previous installments he always made sure to have a team huddle to discuss (or at least inform the group of) their next move, even in the tightest of spots and with the littlest time; no, of course not.

His leadership abilities, his tactical and strategic thinking, his caution, his conviction and determination? Gone. Erased.

Who is this guy in thw and what did he do to Hiccup?

And as for Toothless and Hiccup's dynamic in this movie, something that Astrid said bugs me to an unfathomable degree.

"You gave him his freedom back, what did you expect?"

Woah there, big talk.

This paints a horribly ugly picture. It makes Toothless seem like he'd been held captive by Hiccup, that if he could've flown on his own, he would never have stuck around this long.

Which, much like the rest of this movie, is a load of horseshit.

Toothless is just as free, if not free-er than, as the rest of the dragons. Because while all dragons love and trust their riders, and vice versa, nobody has a connection quite like Toothless and Hiccup (save for perhaps Valka and Cloudjumper).

Toothless could've been flying on his own for a long, long time now. But he didn't want it. He was vehemently opposed to the idea.

Why? Because to him, flying was no longer worth it if Hiccup wasn't right there with him. Because Hiccup took the loneliness out of flying. Because Toothless wanted nothing more than to be by Hiccup's side. Hiccup was the one that made flying worth it.

A major theme of this movie is learning to fly on your own. Toothless had to learn how to fly without Hiccup, and Hiccup had to learn how to fly without Toothless (I mean, personally I'd rather them remaining inseparable soulmates that are mildly codependent. I recognize it's not necessarily the healthiest dynamic, but fuck if I care)

Toothless did this through meeting his mate, and falling in love (no matter how horribly written and designed she is, and no matter how I personally would've preferred for the Hicctooth bromance to remain undisturbed).

He met a creature that he wanted to follow and be alone with, a creature that made flying alone, with nobody on his back, worth it.

And more importantly, Hiccup had to realize that he's not who he is because he has Toothless, and subsequently the dragons. It's the opposite.

This is growth, and the realization that they don't need each other is important.

But why the fuck does that mean they have to say goodbye?

I don't need most of the people in my life. That doesn't mean I don't want them here.

The point was that Hiccup doesn't need Toothless in order to be someone.

Not that he didn't need Toothless, period.

(Even if the point was simply that he didn't need Toothless, which I could concede to, that again doesn't mean that Toothless had to leave, and take the entire dragon population with him.

To me, that sends a message of "if you don't need them, then they gotta go".

It's not what outgrowing a friendship looks like, despite the fact that many people choose to interpret it as such.

Sure, this movie shows what outgrowing a friendship is; if outgrowing a friendship means making room in your life for other people. If outgrowing a friendship means you found romance. Which is ridiculous.)

___________________

To further clarify:

I am well aware the shows aren't canon.

This, however, doesn't change the fact that all these series tie in with HTTYD 2 really well, and that they make sense.

They expand on the characters and give us a better grasp of the world in httyd. They allow us to understand everything better.

When you only have, at most, 150 minutes to tell a story, every minute of it needs to somehow add to the plot. To further the narrative. There is very little time for fluff.

In a movie, it's practically impossible to properly explore the characters' different dynamics, to give everyone their own arc, to let the audience bask in the slow moments and to let the characters just be.

In a series, however? Well. You've definitely got time.

For someone who only watched the movies, it would be pretty damn difficult to understand the mis-characterization in say, Snotlout, Fishlegs and the twins.

You don't know these characters that well. You don't know the well-established dynamics between the gang in the same way that someone who's watched the series does.

Which is exactly why I think that people who've watched them are the ones that dislike the hidden world the most.

I, too, am usually opposed to using non-canon material to make a point, but RoB, DoB and RTTE are the only spin-off series from a successful movie franchise I can name that make perfect sense. That succeed in accurately portraying the main cast, in realistically expanding on the secondary characters (like Fishlegs, Snotlout, and the twins, who now have the space to become part of the main cast), and in smoothly integrating new characters.

They also manage to beautifully explore this magical universe full of dragons, adventure, and mystery, while firmly establishing the dragons as an important part of ecosystems all around.

Whether it's subconscious or not, they create an unshakable image of how all the characters think, act, and interact. You spend a hell of a lot longer with the characters in a lengthy eight season series than in two movies.

But it's not a bad thing, because this image carved by the series fits in nicely with the image carved in all the canon installments of the franchise.

Well. Except for one, cough cough.

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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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