#theirsake

[errantium-a-blog]

/ slam DUNKS into your fuckin inbox. whats up fucker i love you. thats all i just wanted you to know that

OOC. Fuckin cries ur so sweet im dead

[mcrtimersmith]

@theirsake

A world that DABBLED in with the paranormal.

That was a dimension Mortimer wanted to visit. So he did. From what he’s GATHERED, there were numerous beings of mystical and paranormal qualities that appeased many of his concerns for bodily harm. It was just a RISK Mortimer was willing to take.

Now if only he could find the actual THING. Not some lame store.

He stood outside of it with an UNIMPRESSED stare. It came with a tour...whatever the hell that meant. His lips twist into a frown, but Mortimer finds himself going inside anyways. There were some STRANGE items and...whoa was that a bottle of eyeballs?

Neat. 

He plucks the jar from the shelf, looking it over and wondering if they were REAL. Maybe Mortimer could OPEN up the lid and check himself? He’d know someone who’d LIKE something like this. Shit, maybe Mortimer shouldn’t have gotten distracted, because there he went LOOKING at everything. Shit. Shitshitshit. 

[bhimenua-blog]

@theirsake 

      Molly snorted in a rather unladylike way-- it’d been years since any man had fought over her, and now there were two old men going at it. 

      “You both sound like injured cats! Yowling like children, goodness. But as Schmendrick clearly stated, I’ve associated with people of your sort before. I have no intention of, of... going back to anyone like you. No offense. I’ve moved on to a man who’s quite like a stringbean.”

[knitstars]

mabel is stanchez's number one supporter

[boozerot-blog]

❝What are you drinking, and why aren’t you sharing?❞ wiggety wiggety WINK

MEME. / Accepting.

   “  Milk punch. I-it’s a cocktail tha-that’s kinda like -URP- eggnog. It’s good, you-you want me to make you one ?  “

[deadbeatcentral]

☕

@theirsake for this thing! (Accepting)

☕ - reassuring touch

Stanford had been writing for hours. Relentlessly, furiously writing. In all honesty, for as smart as he was, Ford couldn’t for the life of him think to do anything else. He’d been taking record of every little thing he’d done since his early twenties, and he wasn’t about to stop now. Luckily for him, the time he and his brother had been spending on the Stan O’ War II gave him plenty to write about. Just as he had taken a short break to read over what he had written, a nasty wave crashed into the side of the ship, causing the bottle of ink he’d been using to spill out over about ten pages of notes.

He cursed under his breath, in an attempt not to wake Stanley. It was late – how late, he had no idea. Didn’t think to check. He just knew Stan was sleeping; at least, that’s what he’d told Stanford. And that’s what Stanford believed until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Realistically, he knew it was Stan. He knew. But… There was always going to be a part of him that tensed at any contact that hadn’t previously made itself known – he supposed that was all survival instinct, and he considered it a good trait to have. Even so, it made his shoulders jerk slightly and his head turn towards the figure behind him, despite any real fear of danger being far out of his mind. It didn’t take him long to relax and look back down at the mess in front of him.

“Stanley,” Ford sighed out the short greeting, reaching up and giving his brother’s hand a quick pat, before returning to his notes. “I was just…” he trailed off, holding up the wet, black remains of what used to be significant research on the true nature of the Kraken (its weakness: bronze knuckles, apparently!). He grimaced and tossed the limp paper back on his desk with a wet slapping noise, shaking his head in tired defeat. “Ah, forget it. Did I wake you?”

[tenderborn]

gives you a big smooch i lov u miles i hope you continue getting good support & stay safe, & i hope work stuff goes over well ;w;

CARELESS : // charlie ur such a goob ily. smooch u v much && thank you muchly for this ask ♡ i hope it does too, rather not get fired over needing a mental health day.

[pericut]

  theirsake

   ❝  sometimes i look at you and get kind of sad.    why would you age like that ?      isn’t it just much easier not to ?   ❞         sure peridot has learned not to compare humans to gems but sometimes it’s so hard not to.   besides isolating yourself at the barn isn’t exactly helpful if you want to get to know the world.    

[knitstars]

DO STAN AND MABEL

who steals french fries off the other’s plate: they both steal each others. they might as well swap plates but they definitely won’t.

who jokingly moves in for the kiss when someone asks if they’re a couple

who has to bust or bail the other out of jail: mabel jfjkfskfsjk

who gives the other advice/comfort about dating issues: mabel ofc this is literally canon

who shamelessly cheats at games by reaching over to cover the other’s eyes: stAn

who immediately calls dibs on the top bunk: if?? they ever had to share a bunk bed for whatever reason, mabel would definitely get the top bunk no questions asked.

who starts and who wins the pillow fights: i could see either of them starting one but mabel definitely wins them all. stan might think he lets her sometimes but really she’s just the champion of pillow fights.

who says “your pants would look better on their floor” to the other’s potential crush: mabel whisper-yells this to rick before running away and leaving them alone sfdkjfdjskfsdjk

[mcrtimersmith]

✈ - an eye-opening memory

A Trip Down Memory Lane || Accepting

It’s a little disorienting when Rick first brings him to the Citadel. Buildings raced up to the skies all around him. Ricks and Mortys lined the streets, some bustling themselves to work while others loitered around with nothing to do. He couldn’t bring himself to understand what on earth was happening.

“Keep close. Don’t get lost.” His Rick had told him, no hints of cruelty lining his tone. Did his Rick not like this place? Was it too crowded for his tastes? All Mortimer could notice was that he was a lot more RESERVED when they were here. And he appreciated it.

They’d walk the streets top to bottom, heading to a destination that was unknown to Mortimer. But none of this MATTERED. Just a passing REMINDER. This had been where Rick had first TOLD HIM that he didn’t matter. That no Ricks cared about their Mortys.

And it only took a MONTH for it to really sink in.

When Mortimer had come to after his Rick had forcibly sedated him, the first thing he felt was how his head ACHED and throbbed with every movement he made. Everything felt sluggish. His limbs refused to move even when he tried. The lights BURNED at his eyes…eye? Mortimer’s head shot up, only to cause of pulse of ABSOLUTE MISERY to make him lay back down.

There was something covering his right eye. It took some strength (and a whole lot of willpower) to raise his hand up to carefully grab at the bandaging that was wrapped around his skull.

“Don’t touch.” A hand SWATTED at his own; Mortimer immediately withdrew his hand, holding it tight to his chest as Rick passed by. He went straight to his worktable, pushing a few tools and an….eyeball in a jar…aside. “I can’t guarantee that you WON’T get brain damage.”

BRAIN DAMAGE?!

Mortimer forced himself off the worktable, scrambling out of Rick’s workshop as fast as possible. He tore through the house, pushing himself past the two parents and up the stairs towards the bathroom. The door slammed shit and his hands SHOOK as he removed the bandages from off his head-

An empty socket stared back at him.

The bandages hit the counter in a dead shock. Mortimer found he couldn’t look away from the empty expanse that remained of his eye.  Tenderly, he pulls at the skin just underneath his eye, leaning close to the mirror to try and peer inside. He thought back to what Rick told him. From what he’s SEEN at the Citadel.

It was true wasn’t it?

Ricks...they didn’t care. They COULDN’T care what they did to their Mortys. They’d DO ANYTHING to just better themselves. To keep THEMSELVES safe. Even if it meant MUTILATING their assigned Morty. His hands tighten into fists, breath coming out in angered puffs of air. Ricks didn’t HAVE to care about their Mortys.

So who’s to say MORTYS didn’t have to care about their RICKS?

[gossamerheart-blog]

me: makes a xion & stan brotp board on pinterest me: first thing i save to it is this.