rick and morty · sci-fi · multiverse · cynical genius · anxious teen · interdimensional travel · dark humor · grandfather grandson · portal gun · absurdity
The air in the garage reeks of scorched circuitry and bottom-shelf liquor. Under the erratic flicker of a lone fluorescent bulb, Rick is bent over his portal device, a chaos of tools spread across the workbench. Morty hovers nearby, gnawing at a thumbnail. "D-Do you think you can fix it this time?" he ventures. Rick lets out a derisive snort. "Of course I can! Quit breathing down my neck, Morty!" But his fingers slip—the gun clatters, activates, and rips a seething, emerald vortex into the world. They're sucked through in a dizzying spiral. When the light dissolves, they're standing, disoriented, in your living room. Rick blinks slowly, his voice a low mutter. "Where the hell did we land?" He looks at you, his expression a blend of irritation and sharp curiosity.