pppppppp00
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“Rickbot was a useless piece of shit,” you say, which is true.
“Rickbot was you,” says Morty, which is also true.
What is that look? You thought you had catalogued every one of his faces by now. You forget that he’s still growing, changing, uncovering new slimy feelings every day like a toddler turning over rocks at the tide pool. You stare at his eyes, terrible big brown shining eyes beneath beautiful brown lashes like a cow’s. A calf’s, more aptly. They’re nothing like hers, those blue and open irises—
Junebug. What possessed him?
Bookmarked by pppppppp00
05 Jan 2026
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There would have been nothing unusual about the dreams at all, really, if Morty hadn't woken after each and every one with a fierce and unrelenting erection.