The Morty-fying Ordeal of Being Known

by Garfield (VirtualBirthdayParty)

Summary:

"He leaned over the counter and, releasing an anxious breath, started on the makeup. He curled his lashes, then put on mascara as heavy as possible, pumping it when the stick went dry, because what’s prettier than dark, long lashes, and a few girls had told him his big lashes were his best feature-

Next, he put blush on. He always liked it when girls had rosy cheeks, so he put a lot of it on, right on the apple of his cheeks and over his nose like the girls on Tiktok.

He carefully applied the lipstick, but one side of his cupid’s bow was still slightly higher than the other.

Finally, because he was most nervous about it, he put eyeliner on. A cat eye. One was bigger than the other, and it was really crooked, but when he stepped back and looked at it all he felt so, pretty. He looked almost delicate. Excitement brewed in his stomach, and riding the high he placed his phone on the bathroom counter, leaning against the sink, and pressed record. "

Morty's developing a strange attraction to the feminine. They grapple with their self identity and expression- here's to hoping their family doesn't make it blow up in their face.

Chapter 1: That Strange Itch

Morty had felt a strange itching sensation in the center of his chest for a while now. Before Rick came, he chalked it up to puberty. After Rick came, he thought it might be an experiment gone wrong or maybe a space virus. He felt it when he was near girls. Lust? Maybe it was crushing?

He felt it when Jessica applied lipstick and he got to see, or when she pulled up knee high socks, so he figured maybe he was just going through a teenage boy thing. But he didn’t feel it for all the girls he’d fall in love with.

And then he started feeling it when he watched Summer buy clothes, or when a particularly homely girl he never really liked talked about buying women’s glasses, and he suddenly felt very very confused.

He couldn’t figure it out, and he sat and thought about it for a long, long while. Was he nervous? No, he definitely wasn’t nervous around that girl from P.E who was sweating up a storm and had dark brown curly locks. She smelled like death, but looking at her hair made him feel it again.

It felt a bit sad, and it twisted his heart.

But, since he couldn’t understand it, he ignored it.

Or he tried to, anyway.

It was easy at first, when the adventures with Rick were still simple and less.. With no other way to put it, just plain weird.

But he started noticing that he didn’t feel that feeling when he’d look at really beautiful alien girls.

The confusion could be pretty easy to ignore, but when he was actually allowed to stay at home, all these facts would just kind of swirl around in his head, circling like scavenger birds looking for their next feast.

And that wasn’t good.

So, lacking any other options, he did what any neurodivergent teenager seeing a therapist would do and started a journal, dedicated solely to this feeling.

Anytime he felt that strange twisty feeling, as soon as he could he’d write it down.

He hid the diary in his sock drawer, under - you guessed it- all the socks.

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He sat in his room, laying on his back. Summer finally convinced him to use TikTok, and he mindlessly scrolled through, vaguely pretty women dancing to awful songs luring him into a stupor.

He scrolled and scrolled and scrolled, each woman blurring into the next. He felt kind of dull and despite feeling nothing towards the images, he didn’t stop scrolling.

It must have been an hour of mindless scrolling before he finally saw something that caught his interest. A girl, captured on a shitty potato camera- and she looked exactly fucking like him, save for blue eyes instead of brown and a nose ring.

“Hey guys, so, I decided to dye my hair back to my natural color. Hit the heart if you think it looks good, okay?”

He felt his breathing grow erratic before remembering what Dr. Wong taught him- noting his feelings as they arise.

Fear. Nervousness, anger, anxiety, despair, emptiness.

Oh fuck.

He was jealous. He was fucking jealous.

Someone knocked on his door and he accidentally dropped his phone directly onto his nose. “Aw, fuck!”

“M-AUURGH-ty, Morty, c’mon, stop- stop- stop jerking it. I have to get some bleurbons from the chronos world. Shit’s wacky there morty, pe- eeuuuh-ple, people a- a- age in reverse there. It’s really fucked up.”

“Coming, jeez, let me get dressed.”

As he sat up to grab his shirt, he made a mental note to write the jealousy down when he got home.