#my berenstain moment

[raihanfucker241]

🎄

[rustchild]

wait is art garfunkel not out as gay. is that not a thing. did we all just collectively hallucinate this old man's homosexuality or

[abadarkade]

🎵Get all of the food🎵

🎶Put it in the pot🎶

They are right out in the open

Jimmy

🎵Take the Shot!🎵

[cpmhew]

I've been running around all week calling this show "A League of *Our* Own" and honestly I stand by it.

[fortheloveofexy]

Top 5 vs Personal 5

List your top 5 fics ranked by kudos on AO3. are you surprised by what's most popular to your readers? then provide your ranking of your personal top 5 fics, and tag a few fellow writers!

Thanks for the tag @mostlymaudlin ! tagging @jingerhead @paradoxolotl @exy-shmexy @storiesnstardust

Top 5 (by Kudos):

1. Call Me By Your Name (3.9k, andreil)  

Basically, Neil calls Andrew “baby” in his sleep once, so Andrew  gets flustered and then secretly tries out different pet names for Neil.

This one... honestly really surprised me with how popular it got. It’s my most kudos’d fic by a long shot (2,378 kudos??? insanity). It’s a short little thing, entirely focused around andreil and pet names. To be honest, I have mixed feelings about this one being the top fic, because it’s one of my oldest fics and I don’t really love the prose now. I don’t really understand why it got so popular out of everything I wrote bc it’s never anyone’s favorite fic when I ask, but I’m glad so many enjoyed it!

2. Sweet Enough To Eat (3.1k, andreil) 

Andrew experiencing cute aggression. That’s basically the whole premise lol.

 Anyway, this one is my oldest fic, so I assume that’s why it’s so popular. It’s cute, sweet even! I still like it to this day. Not much else to say about it though.

3. May We Meet Again (10.7k, andreil)

The first installment of the Artist Neil AU. 

To be honest, I don’t like it anymore. That whole AU has problems with pacing, and some characterization issues too. Plus, looking back at the art now makes me cringe so hard. The only reason it’s still up is bc I know a lot of people really like it. Sometimes I think about revising the whole thing but I still remember how big of an undertaking it was when I first wrote it and made all the art for it, so I probably won’t. 

4. The Marks We Make (41.3k, andreil)

A (mostly) canon rewrite from Andrew’s POV with a soulmate AU twist. 

This the first multichapter fic I ever wrote, and one of the earliest fics I ever published, so I’m not surprised it’s high on the list. There are some things I like about this one, and some I would do differently. Writing this fic helped me make some of my first friends in the fandom though, so it was very much worth it.

5. Yes Or No? (35.5k, andreil)

sub andrew & Dom Neil pwp - need I say more?. 

This one truly surprised me. It was meant to be a one-shot experiment, something I wrote as an exploration of my own boundaries and limits. BDSM fics are often triggering for me, so I generally avoid them, but I wanted to write a BDSM fic that I would be able to enjoy and to explore BDSM from a safe distance.

However, given how much the fandom seemed to be against Andrew submitting (and sometimes even just bottoming) at the time, I worried I might end up getting hate for writing it. To my surprise, I did not, and so many commenters asked that I continue it that I ended up turning it into a whole series. 

I’m quite proud of it still - it might just be a smut fic to most people, but it will always be more than just a smut fic to me. 

I do hate the last 3 paragraphs of the main fic though. I was on a kick where I thought incorporating references to fic titles and canon lines into my writing was clever and fun, but now I just cringe when I look at it. Ahh well, maybe someday I’ll change it and tell nobody. Create a little Berenstein/Berenstain Bears moment :)

Top 5 (Personal Ranking):

1.  More Than Words (32.9k, ongoing, neon friendship)

Neil and Aaron meet as kids and become best friends, long before Aaron learns his mother’s secret - he has a long lost twin brother.

I cannot gush enough about the love I have for this fic, this whole story. I can’t talk about it here because I have some insane twists planned (iykyk) but just know this fic is my baby and this story will be my magnum opus once it’s done. I love writing Neil and Aaron’s friendship, I love writing Aaron’s POV, I love the plans I have these boys. It’s still ongoing so I understand why it’s not higher up in the kudos ranking, but I’m hopeful that will change once I actually finish it.

2. A Quiet Self-Destruction (2.6k, andreil)

A character study on Andrew’s experience with depression, and how Neil helps him through his bad days.

I wrote this to comfort myself during one of my own depression spells. It still brings me a bit of hope on dark days. For that, I will always love it.

3. Scribbles and Sticky Notes (11.7k, andreil)

Neil retires from Exy, with heaps of fluff, soft Andreil, wholesome Twinyards, hurt/comfort, MCD and angst.

Hands down, this is the saddest fic I’ve ever written, and I’m quite proud of that fact. I think the pacing is really good, and the gut punches are quite successful (while being foreshadowed quite nicely). The characterization is also spot on, I think. It’s got MCD though, which I think is probably why it’s not more popular. 

4. The Past, Stained Red (4.4k, andreil)

Part 3 of the Artist Neil AU. Andrew has a surprise run-in with a ghost from his past, and finally gets some closure.

This is the only fic of the Artist Neil AU that I actually still like. It’s well-paced, well-characterized, and I still like the art. Mostly, though, I viciously loved writing Andrew getting to close the door on Cass, and I loved writing him acknowledging the harm she did to him as a foster parent. He couldn’t see it as a child, but as an adult? He sees her clearly, in all her failure. It was extremely cathartic to write that. 

5. Catdrew Meowyard (1.4k, andreil)

Andrew suddenly has cat ears and a tail. Nobody questions it. Shenanigans ensue.

This is such a silly little fic. I wrote it as a joke and I still love it dearly, even though it’s very dumb. It’s just very fun to write and to read, and it’s perfect for when I want to blow off steam and write some crack.

[prettypeppermint]

actions speak louder than words.

for s. rintarou.

"Fuck."

You scramble around your shared apartment in nothing but your undergarments, last night's sleep still hazing your eyes as you make out your roommate's blurry silhouette trekking into the kitchen.

Suna stands with his hands buried in the home that is his sweatpants pockets, observing impassively as you ride your pencil skirt up your hips and simultaneously work the French press with an efficiency that is almost offputting--it's an intricately disorderly routine for both of you.

You wake up late every day. Still, you somehow manage to get to work on time without fail, always with a cup of coffee in your hand and a lax smile on your face. He doesn't know how you do it. He doesn't know how you do a lot of things in your hectic superstorm of a life.

Suna scratches the back of his head.

"Toss me my shirt--on the counter," you say, the thickness of the morning still coating your throat. You snag your hair tie off your wrist with your teeth while your hands work your hair up into a ponytail.

"Good morning to you, too," he croaks sarcastically, obeying your request anyway. He could never refuse you. You always win, whether it's the debate over who gets the last cookie or whether it's spelled "Berenstein Bears" or "Berenstain Bears".

In a flurry, you skate past your disheveled roommate to the shoe rack by the door, where 75% of it is occupied with your footwear and the other 25% carries his. Before he can turn to see what the next step in your tornado of a morning is, you've already picked out a trusty pair of Louboutin stilettos.

"How do I look? Actually, shut up. I look great," you laugh. It tingles his brain.

"You look pretty," he states softly, matter-of-factly. It's in place of his usual snide comeback.

That certainly isn't a part of the routine.

He tilts his head as his gaze lands on the space between your eyes, and you let it rest there for a second longer than you normally would. Your roommate seems to have lost the usual snarkiness in his step this morning--he normally would have said something along the lines of 'You look like shit. Go take a shower.'

"And you look like shit. Go take a shower," you say playfully, reaching past his tall, lean frame for your keys hanging from the hook on the door behind him. As your cheek accidentally brushes against his in the close proximity that ensues, he takes your face in his palm and smoothly guides it to his lips in one fluid motion. It's a soft kiss, the kind that feels like an armful of spring blossoms.

As you both gently pull away, you allow only a brief moment to look up at his foxy eyes and whisper a breathy 'shit' before going back for more. This time, it burns. It's fervent, demoralized.

You keep a slow, passionate rhythm with his mouth as you both stumble back into the kitchen. He hoists you onto the countertop in a swift gesture. You thumb at the seamed hem of his gray sweater, teasing the fabric up just enough to trace at a sliver of his bare skin; you want to make him the one yearning to touch you--to be touched.

But your lips feel cold as he draws away from them. "I need to hear you say it," he breathes against your lip.

"Say what, Rin," you tease airily.

He hesitates before giving you another soft peck, the kind that's just long enough to leave anyone pleading for more. "Say you want me inside of you," he exhales, immediately trailing kisses and gentle nibbles down your neck.

"Okay. I want you inside of me," you deadpan with a smile. He hears the smirk in your voice and bites down just that much harder on the side of your neck. "Careful," he mutters against your collarbone. You fight back a sigh but a stifled moan squeezes past your lips instead. You know all Suna wants is to get a feverish rise out of you, but unlike your dear friend who can never refuse you, you're the exact opposite--all you ever do is refuse him.

You pull his sweater off from over his head. In due time, he unbuttons your blouse dexterously with one large hand, exposing your lacy little bra. He continues his kisses, working his way achingly slow down your body. "Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you," he mumbles between soft pecks to your exposed flesh.

"I want you to make me feel good, Rin," you respond in a low voice, raking your fingers through his ebony hair. At that, he slips one digit into your bra and teases your nipple as he laps at the exposed part of your breast. You look up at the fluorescent kitchen light and let out a euphoric breath. "Do whatever you think will make me look good under you."

"Who said anything about being under me?" he drawls before unzipping the skirt you just shimmied on, then sliding it off your legs. He plants a kiss on your clothed clit and starts tracing your slit through your underwear, taunting the idea of entry. He watches as the cotton soaks up your heat and wets the tip of his slender finger.

"I never pegged you for an edging kinda guy. You're full of surprises today," you pant as you begin discreetly rutting against his single digit, feigning desperation. Without a word, he loops his index finger through the bridge of fabric and pushes it to the side. "Come on, Rin. you can do better than th-ah!" A blissful shiver shoots through your core straight into your stomach, interrupting your final thought as he thrusts the first finger deep into your cunt. You trap another moan in your throat and mewl through a closed mouth.

"Shh," Suna coos gently as he sticks his ring finger in next. At this, you let out another breath to the ceiling. He initiates a slow pumping rhythm until a third finger catches you by surprise, and this time, you're loud. Your friend presses his mouth to yours and swallows all the sweet noises you're making for him, fingers curling against your walls in perfect syncopation with the probing of his tongue in your mouth. His other arm snakes around your arched waist pressing into him.

Just as you're beginning to lose yourself in his kiss, he speeds up the pace, thrusting his digits in and out, in and out. He doesn't let your lips break away, leaning further into you every time you try, trapping you as you're forced to moan down his throat.

His thumb sneaks onto your clit and taunts it. He pushes into you even more, causing your hips to grind and roll into his rhythm. Your hand leaves his hair to find leverage against the cold, tiled counter, and the other desperately grasps onto a squeaky cupboard door. He goes faster, deeper--like he's burning to feel every inch of you clenching around him.

A series of short, spastic whimpers and moans makes its way into your kiss as a million fires flutter through your entire body. You feel like stardust in his grip.

Suna doesn't stop even as you're convulsing and unraveling against him, but he finally lets you free from his thousand-year kiss, fully pulling back to admire his work. He exhales, and it comes out in a small, rugged shudder as he takes in your glistening, heaving form. He slows to an aching stop and plants a comforting smooch on your cheek--the same cheek that brushed against his and started this whole rendezvous.

After giving you a moment to fully calm down from your high, Suna brushes wet strands of hair from the corners of your mouth and hands you the cup of coffee you made earlier, now lukewarm.

"Thanks," you croak, accepting it. You're even more exhausted than when you first woke up.

Your roommate awkwardly leans against the sink and gazes at you for a solid minute before finally saying, "You look like shit. Go take a shower."

You laugh into your coffee cup, Suna's new favorite sound next to your pretty moans.

"Fuck," he marvels under his breath.

"What is it?"

"Well, you're late for work... And I think I'm in love with you."

x.

[anamelessfool]

I realized I have spent nearly an entire year spelling Secondo "Secundo" and I feel so so stupid 🫠

This is my Berenstain Bears Moment

[deathlygristly]

Last night on my dash I saw a poll about the first "adult" cartoon you watched. The Simpsons was winning, as it should. The spousal person saw it over my shoulder and he said "If you vote for any of the others then you are baby."

It was followed by a poll about if the Simpsons were against the rules or not in your house growing up, and of course I voted no. Not sure if there were rules for anything to be against, really? My mother's rages were about her immediate emotional reactions in the moment to me spilling something or hesitating a moment before going into a room, not any kind of organized oppression or anything.

The spousal person said he would have voted the opposite. He said that anything that depicted the father of the family at all negatively was against the rules, including the Berenstain Bears.

I was like oh, okay, I already understood why you weren't upset at all when your father died, but I get it even more now.

[viewedooc]

immediately ran across something else i fucked up AAARGH tearing my own hair out

im having so many berenstain bear moments i could have sworn dirk got that tattoo With jake / i didnt remember it as something he got purely bc of dave

[noraviolence]

um. is it ahegao. am i so fucked up that ive been thinking its spelled aheago my whole life

berenstain bears moment what the fuck is going on i swear to god it was spelled aheago (pronounced like .. ah-hay-ah-go.. あへあご) uauhhuhgjhhk

[cristalconnors]

Having my berenstain bears moment because I could have sworn harry belafonte died like 5 years ago

[amurderof]

katy. katy it's four claps.

i feel insane

this is my berenstain/stein bears moment

[bates--boy]

He looked forward to a distraction as he helped Caleb and Pakiza prepare for bed. He supervised their washing their faces and brushing their teeth, and straightened their sleepwear and made sure Caleb had his pull-ups on. Tucked into Caleb's bed with steamy mugs of sleepytime tea, the kids watched with bright, expectant eyes as Peter went to the little bookshelf set against the wall. He crouched and hovered his hand near the colorful and thin spines of board books, half his mind on what work he could do after the kiddos went to sleep. 

        "Alright, you guys, what are you in the mood for? We got some Berenstain Bears, we got some Madeleine, we got some Babar--"

        "Oh! Radio Kings!"

        Peter paused, holding the picture book he was sliding out halfway in its place. He glanced over his shoulder to the two kids, specifically to Caleb who leaned over his mug and glowing with enthusiasm. Pakiza glanced at her sleepover friend over the brim of her mug, her eyes going bright as well mid-sip of her tea. Peter pushed the book back into place. "You mean, my script?'

          "Yeah!" Caleb bobbed his head with more energy than Peter had ever seen him have. It was a wonder that he hadn't spilled any of his drink on himself or the bed. "It's fun!"

           Now, when had Caleb ever heard any episode of Radio Kings? Sure, he was there from time to time at the studio while Peter and Naseem recorded songs, but Peter did not recall any time that Caleb was there to listen in on the recording of actual episodes, nor did Peter believe that he replayed old episodes to get ideas for new ones all that often. But however Caleb managed to sneak an episode or two, it had him hooked, and Peter couldn't say no to that face.

          "...Alright," Peter said. He stood straight and went to settle on the edge of the bed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He logged into his cloud account and tapped on his script folder, going to the most recent season folder and opening the previous episode's script, as he had yet to complete the current one. He looked up out of the corner of his eye, smiling to himself as his son and niece wiggled closer.

           "'HOMEWRECKER HALLIE'," Peter read, letting the kids know who was speaking. He tried to make his voice as close to Hallie's voice actor, Shawna, as possible, but Shawna dominated this character's portrayal and Peter just wouldn't be able to get it right, as hard as he might try. "'Attrossitty has me working peon shift, again. I know he's doing this tp punish me. Sure, it's an easy job, just gotta follow this bozo for a bit, collect some samples, and collect a decent pay afterwards, but this was not the thrilling job I'm used to, like being a desk jockey after years of the satisfying duty of curb-stomping pedophiles."

           "What'sa 'pedophile'?" Pakiza cut in to ask. 

            "You know what that is," Peter said. "Your Mom and Dad and I told you: adults who tell you to touch them in bad ways or try to touch you in bad ways."

            Pakiza nodded sagely. "And to tell you or Mama or Papa if someone tries to do that," she recited. It was an odd moment to do so, but Peter felt mildly glad that she remembered, in any case.

           Peter nodded in return and went back to his screen, easing them all back to the smoky noir mood.

            "'Or maybe I'm sour because I'm sitting out here in the freezing air. I wish I had worn or at least thought to bring my fleece-lined stockings, but they weren't as eye-grabbing as the pair I'm in now. Seriously, though, it's colder than a witch's--'" tits.

            Peter pulled a face, eyes flickering to the kids gazing at him questioningly. He gave a tiny, tight smile. "'-- heart. And I have no --'" bourbon. "'--tea to warm me up. I don't even get the satisfaction of sucking this guy's...'"

          Oh, god, Peter balked at his phone's screen. He scrolled through some of the script, feeling his face drain of warmth and color as his eyes picked up on everything. He didn't remember this script being this filthy.

          "Ah... Ah ha ha ha..." Peter chuckled. "Ahem. 'sucking this guy's popsicle.'"

           Pakiza frowned. "Why would she eat his popsicle if it's cold?"

           "Because it's the only snack he has," Peter replied. "Now... 'I can, however, give him a hand... shake. I just can't leave any trace of my own DNA on him, can't connect Radio Kings to the job. Still, a little reward may be nice, like a long snort of... Coca-Cola. Maybe I'll reward myself after; nice and warm lavender bath, candles, and my new big black... violin I haven't used, yet..."

--

That was... the hardest half-hour of his life.

       He had hoped that the kids would be knocked out within ten minutes, even tried to make his voice monotone to dullen the story, but those kids stuck through, fighting the sleepytime tea until the very end. It only occurred to Peter near the end that, as the adult, he could have nixed the Radio Kings story time and gotten a picture book after all, but he knew that nothing woke a sleepy child up more than a reason to be defiant, and not reading a story he agreed to read was reason enough. 

      Peter carried the mugs to the kitchen, still stunned and out of sorts after that ordeal, and gave them a quick wash. Hanging them on the tree to dry, Peter went to his desktop, settled in his chair, and powered the device on. He watched the screen glow to life, his stare absent. 

      Caleb was going to want another Radio Kings story time in the future, Peter just knew it. 

      "...Not again," Peter murmured to himself. It'll have to be like Radio Kings, for sure, because there was something about this podcast that gripped Caleb's intrigue and wonder. Whatever it may be, Peter clicked open a new, blank document and set to work on a short story.

[honeyvanillalavender]

Hi friend, you can call me Gracie ~

she/her pronouns

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

✨ this is a safe space to frolic in the realm of childlike wonder ✨

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

Some things about me:

♥︎ my favorite color is periwinkle (powder blue and lavender are close seconds)

♥︎ i love all seasons but summer and fall are my top favs

♥︎ my favorite animals are horses, cats (big n smol), and elephants

♥︎ my favorite movie is Beauty & the Beast and my favorite show is Clifford

♥︎ my favorite disney princesses are Moana, Belle and Merida

Some of my cartoon/character interests that are very nostalgic for me include:

Winnie the Pooh, Barney, Clifford, Kipper the Dog, Angelina Ballerina, Little Bear, Franklin, The Berenstain Bears, Arthur, The Big Comfy Couch, Hello Kitty (and all things Sanrio), Care Bears, Tinker Bell, My Little Pony (gens 2-3), and Strawberry Shortcake.

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

~ ~ ~ Important Stuff ~ ~ ~

I’m an adult in my 20’s.

I don’t involuntarily regress, but I do have lots of PTSD triggers that take me back to specific bad moments. I tend to regress to the ages of 0-5 as those were the safe/happy years before trauma. I act as my own cg in a way, letting myself regress to feel safe, understood and loved.

- - -

Please DNI if you post/reblog content not suited for someone with a more childlike/innocent mind, I want to keep this space as lighthearted as possible.

- - -

I don’t enjoy the idea of interacting with minors as I’m an adult but this is still a space you can scroll, just no private conversations pls.

- - -

[thirstghosting]

Crazy Random Haprickstance

Rick + Reader Hurt-comfort Unfinished WP

This is bigtime vent. The emotions in this piece are based on real-life emotions though specific events have been tailored for dramatic effect.

xx

"Whoa, what the--fuck?"

Through your hysterical crying you were startled by the nasally, gravelly voice of a stranger. Looking up through tear-logged eyes you saw the distorted form of a skinny old man, leaning upright toward you in an office chair, in what looked like a normal garage. As you weren't currently in control of your emotions, you shrieked and launched yourself back and away from this man, directly into a metal shelf which you hadn't seen. Shouting again, you braced for impact--which never came.

There was, instead, a plasmatic hum, and when you looked up you saw the contents of the shelf floating above and around you.

"Okay, so, any time now, f-feel free to apologize for barging into my lab and trying to wreck my shit."

The things all floated back into place, the shelf upright. You still sat with your knees  scrunched up, hands flat on the cold concrete of the garage floor. "What, nothing to say? Who are you with? How did you find me."

It took a moment to register he was now pointing a gun-shaped device toward you, which caused you to double over in panic. "Fuck fuck I'm sorry, I don't know how I got here, I didn't do it on purpose!"

"Tch, oh, yeah, you accidentally teleported into my lab--"

"I did, it was an accident!" you stressed, liquids blubbering out of your eyes, mouth, and nose as you pled for your life. "I don't know who you are, man...I'm having a terrible day, I've never te-teleported before and I'm still not sure how I did it. Please don't hurt me."

After a moment of watching you hyperventilate, he seemed to be convinced, setting the weapon down on the work bench with a sigh. "I'm sorry, kid. I have a lot of enemies, c-can never be too careful." You sniffled, taking a deep breath to try to calm down. "S-sorry."

For an awkward moment, you continued to sit, waves of sadness wracking through you. He sat there, not really looking at you but definitely not ignoring you.

"I'm, uh, I'm Rick. Rick Sanchez. I-I'm a scientist, an inventor of sorts," he said. "I deal with this kind of stuff all the time. Teleportation, different universes. That kind of stuff."

"Different universes?" It wasn't like you didn't know they existed. "You can travel through different universes?"

"Well, ugh...normally I can," he said, whirling around in his chair to face an unseen device on the workbench. "Portal travel's kinda, uh, broken right now."

"Do you think I'm from a different dimension?"

"Well, that depends," he said. "How do you spell the bear books?"

"The bear books--?"

"Beloved childrens' books from the mid 1900s about a family of bears--"

"Oh, the Berenstain Bears."

"Berenstain with an A?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, yep. Shit. You're definitely from a different universe," he concluded. "We spell it with all E's."

"Well how did I get here?" you asked, an edge of panic creeping into your voice.

"Fuck if I know!" he said. "Were you traveling through outer space? Did you touch something sci-fi? Accept a weird gift from a stranger?"

"N-no I was literally just crying," you said, tears prickling in your eyes again. You sighed in frustration, knowing your cheeks were too raw to handle any more emotion.

"Crying."

"Yeah?" Your voice was becoming more unsteady and you clenched your whole body, feeling a zip of very unpleasant energy from your brain to the rest of your nerves. "I-I-I think I've been crying for a couple hours..."

"Whoa, hey, stop, stop," he said urgently. "Don't curl into a ball!"

"Okay," you sobbed, throwing your hands back down onto the cold floor and attempting to sit upright. "You're gonna shoot me again?!"

"No, no, this isn't a gun," he assured, "this is a different device altogether. It measures quantum activity. Now without folding in on yourself. Can you tell me why you're crying so much."

You were more confused than ever, now, but this was the situation. "Uh. Um. Well. I'm dealing with a lot right now. I mean I have been for a while, but today I just feel..."

"That's good, that's good," he said, eyes glued to a screen on the device he had pointed at you. "Wow. Okay, keep going."

"Uh? I just...I feel like my living situation is doing a number on my mental health," you continued, moving toward an edge of the workbench to lean against. "It's so small...my apartment is so small. And it sucks so bad. And it would be worth it if I was even saving money but it's taking up 3/4 of my paycheck." Your voice was cracked and wavering and you shuddered hard. "So I've been looking for a new place but it's s-so...it's so..."

"I get it, the housing market is shit right now," he said. "Fuck landlords, amirite?"

You were able to cough out a chuckle, feeling a little more safe in this odd man's presence. "Um...I dunno. Today it just...a lot got to me. I just found out that an apartment that--ugh." The tears were tumbling down again. "The place I applied for with my friend, was a scam? And uh, both of our applications--they each cost us 50 dollars--like not only did we not get approved because it was fake--" Your breathing quickened again. "And I can't afford to do this again, and again and again, I can't do it I can't--"

"Okay stop stop stop!" He held up a bony hand toward you, still looking at the monitor. You willed your lip to stop quivering, widening your eyes to see through the film of tears. A beam shot out from the device and you weren't sure if you could feel it scanning through your body, or if it was a trick of the mind based on the visual cue. "All ri-hight," he said, grinning widely. "Well the good news is, found out how you got here. Your despair is so intense that you actually ripped a hole in spacetime. Did you wish you were disappeared?"

"Huh?"

"When you had the original breakdown and came here. Did you feel like you wanted to melt into the earth or dissolve into the wind?"

"Yes...I'm confused, are you saying I wished myself here?"

His unibrow lowered into a deadpan expression at this question. "Uh, no, because that would imply you got here via magic, which I have no respect for. No, you got here because your feelings are literally so intense they can warp the fabric of space. Through science. Which I can measure, and replicate."

He took something out of the handheld device and plugged it into the USB port of his laptop.

"Unfortunately, getting you back is gonna be a bit more complex. I have this portal gun that helps me get anywhere I want, but some little as--bruup--asshole decided to fuck that up for everybody. Some-something with the quantrux locator or some shit." He clapped his hands together and sighed. "This friend of yours, how-how well are they doing without you, ya think?"

You wanted to break into hysterics again. "I mean probably fine but I can't just leave them forever without saying--!"

"Shh hey, calm down, I know. I know. The good news is, once this data is finished uploading you'll be able to communicate with them through the internet. The bad news is, still no idea how we're gonna send you back physically."

You looked around the garage, glowing with all types of foreign objects, both constructed and apparently organic. "You can't invent something to--"

"I have a process!" he snapped. "Ugh. Sorry. Knee-jerk reaction, there. My family's been on my ass lately about fixing portal travel. Li-like if it was just that easy I wouldn't have by now."

"Okay, sorry, I get it."

A beat of silence. The progress bar on the laptop read 8%.

"So, um...your family? They live here with you?"

"Yeah, I'm sure you'll meet them in no time. Usually one of them comes bursting in the door about now wondering why it's so loud in here. But they all went to the zoo on Tsaropthian Theta Twelve."

"Are they...um. Nice?"

He let out a strong, singular laugh. "Any of them could tell you I'm definitely the meanest person in the family. Oh, you're prompting me to tell you all about them. I guess it would be good prep for when they get back. Uh, so, I'm Beth's father. She's about, 30, I think? And I cloned her. A couple years ago. So...there's Beth and there's Clone Beth, but I don't know which one's the clone. Neither do they. Or anybody. I did this thing, this mind blowers--anyway. So Beth has a couple kids, that's my grandkids. Summer is, uhh...an age...and Morty is...younger than that. Age. They always beg to go along with me on my errands, dumbasses call it an adventure, hah."

"So wait, is Beth a single mom? Or is she raising them with the clone?"

"Oh, no it's--I forgot about Jerry. Ugh. Jerry's her husband. Almost ex husband until she freaked out about being cloned and thought I was gonna kill her--"

"I can see why you'd be regarded as the meanest person in the family."

"Hey fuck you!"

"I'm--just repeating what you said!"

"Don't try to match my energy, all right? Don't stoop to my level, you're better than that."

"You don't know."

He looked blankly at you for a minute, and you wondered where that had come from. "All right, touche." He glanced at the laptop screen, which now read 11%, but went back down to 9%. "It's gonna be like this for a few hours. Why-why don't I take you out for some ice cream? You like ice cream?"

"Can we get boba?"

This prompted a long, dramatic sigh from Rick, before he stood up and clicked open the garage to reveal a an awkward saucer-style space ship in the driveway. "Yeah. Sure. We can go get some fucking boba. Because the thing I love most in the world about drinks is having to chew them."

[ezdotjpg]

actually wait I’m back to tell a story that has nothing to do with anything

I vividly remember a scene in the 2001 Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius movie where Sheen sings “my socks don’t match, my socks don’t match, I’m out in public and my socks don’t match” to a very specific melody. I think about it every time I put on socks that don’t match. for years I have lived convinced of this

except the other day I looked up the actual original clip and it’s:

a) not sung by Sheen

b) not that melody

c) the actual phrase is “my clothes don’t match, my clothes don’t match, I’m out in public and my clothes don’t match”

I have never felt so bamboozled. hoodwinked. gobsmacked, if you will. clearly the only explanation is the existence of a parallel universe that has merged with this one I rest my case thank u for ur time