Reading Emma pre-coronavirus: I can’t believe Frank Churchill would travel 16 miles for a hair cut. How ridiculous.
Reading Emma now: Man, I’m jealous

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Reading Emma pre-coronavirus: I can’t believe Frank Churchill would travel 16 miles for a hair cut. How ridiculous.
Reading Emma now: Man, I’m jealous
@iraful worried: “ you can’t sleep, either? ”
he can’t remember the last time he did.
between rick stumbling into his room at all hours and dragging him off on some crazy adventure most nights, and him being left in peace only to toss, turn, fret and feel utterly haunted the rest--- yeah... suffice to say, morty’s barely been sleeping at all these days.
rick’s return two years ago marked the death of his consistent sleep schedule and ordinary life, and part of the teenager wishes he could hate the old man for it. confessing none of this (lest he worry emma further), morty glances over as she joins him and cracks a smile. it’s tired, but curves sweetly enough across his peaky face regardless, ever genuine.
“ ------ i’m just thinkin' about stuff! um, you ever--- you ever feel like your mind’s, like, racing? y’know, you’re laying back in your bed, and it’s--- things are goin’ a hundred miles an hour up there, and you just... ” feel completely overwhelmed?
he trails off and rakes a hand through his mussed mop of dark locks, hazel eyes flitting from her to the night’s sky overhead for all of a moment. soft starlight twinkles down at them from the sea of infinite black, and it’s hard not to feel just a little bit more at peace: maternal figure at his side in this moment of snatched, precious peace that doesn’t come often...
“ i’ll-- i’ll head back to bed soon. for real. i just want to stay out here a little longer ; there’s supposed to be some big meteor shower tonight! but, um, hey, come to... come to think of it, what’re you doing up, mom? ”