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WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

What’s the lie your character says most often?

How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?

How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

How loose is their use of the phrase ‘I love you’?

Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?

What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference?

What’s something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!

When do they fake a smile? How often?

How do they put out a candle?

What’s the most obvious difference between their behavior at home, at work, at school, with friends, and when they’re alone?

What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?

What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?

What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they’ve been avoiding?

Who do they like as a person but hate their work? Vice versa, whose work do they like but don’t like the person?

What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

What simple activity that most people do / can do scares your character?

What do they feel guilty for that the other person(s) doesn’t / don’t even remember?

Did they take a cookie from the cookie jar? What kind of cookie was it?

What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

How would they respond to being fired by a good boss?

What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

What do they tell people they want? What do they actually want?

How do they respond when someone doesn’t believe them?

When they make a mistake and feel bad, does the guilt differ when it’s personal versus when it’s professional?

When do they feel the most guilt? How do they respond to it?

If they committed one petty crime / misdemeanor, what would it be? Why?

How do they greet someone they dislike / hate?

How do they greet someone they like / love?

What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

Who do they keep in their life for professional gain? Is it for malicious intent?

What’s a secret they haven’t told serious romantic partners and don’t plan to tell?

What hobby are they good at in private, but bad at in front of others? Why?

Would they rather be invited to an event to feel included or be excluded from an event if they were not genuinely wanted there?

How do they respond to a loose handshake? What goes through their head?

What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

What language would be easiest for them to learn? Why?

What’s something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately?

Are they a listener or a talker? If they’re a listener, what makes them talk? If they’re a talker, what makes them listen?

Who have they forgotten about that remembers them very well?

Who would they say ‘yes’ to if invited to do something they abhorred / strongly didn’t want to do?

Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun) personally don’t agree with?

What’s a phrase they say a lot?

Do they act on their immediate emotions, or do they wait for the facts before acting?

Who would / do they believe without question?

What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a common theme?

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So my problem with most ‘get to know your character’ questioneers is that they’re full of questions that just aren’t that important (what color eyes do they have) too hard to answer right away (what is their greatest fear) or are just impossible to answer (what is their favorite movie.)  Like no one has one single favorite movie. And even if they do the answer changes.

If I’m doing this exercise, I want 7-10 questions to get the character feeling real in my head. So I thought I’d share the ones that get me (and my students) good results: 

What is the character’s go-to drink order? (this one gets into how do they like to be publicly perceived, because there is always some level of theatricality to ordering drinks at a bar/resturant)

What is their grooming routine? (how do they treat themselves in private)

What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? (Gets you thinking about socio-economic class, values, and how they spend their leisure time)

Do they have any scars or tattoos? (good way to get into literal backstory) 

What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? (Good way to get some *emotional* backstory in.) 

Are they an oldest, middle, youngest or only child? (This one might be a me thing, because I LOVE writing/reading about family dynamics, but knowing what kinds of things were ‘normal’ for them growing up is important.)

Describe the shoes they’re wearing. (This is a big catch all, gets into money, taste, practicality, level of wear, level of repair, literally what kind of shoes they require to live their life.)

Describe the place where they sleep. (ie what does their safe space look like. How much (or how little) care / decoration / personal touch goes into it.)

What is their favorite holiday? (How do they relate to their culture/outside world. Also fun is least favorite holiday.) 

What objects do they always carry around with them? (What do they need for their normal, day-to-day routine? What does ‘normal’ even look like for them.) 

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I have found my new favorite word generator website

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I’ve written my first SAYER fanfiction! My beta reader was @chetungwan . Check this out if you like Resident Hale angst and the closest thing to hurt/comfort end-of-season-4-SAYER can offer.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31078529

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!!!! I'm so glad you liked it! I'm proud of that line too.

Flicker, cacophony, and rain as word prompts for you! 3 instead of 1 so that you have a few to choose from haha. Characters are up to you :)

I know you said I could choose, but those three words together gave me such a great mental image I had to use all three.

Happy New Year! Here's my first fic of 2021.

Tonight was the night. A blue moon on Halloween meant that the forces of magic would be strong enough to give this a chance to work. Marvin had spent hours setting up his crystal balls, incense, and spell books in precisely the right positions.

Now it was past sundown, and there was a thunderstorm outside. The beating of the rain on the window seemed to harmonize with Marvin's murmured chants. He had been studying for this for months, and he could barely contain his excitement to put his powers to use to protect his friends.

Still chanting, Marvin sat down at his desk, closed his eyes, and reached toward the ball. It was like a handshake, his mentor had once told him. The crystal ball meets you in the middle. Marvin had a firm handshake.

Like a thousand static shocks, magic flickered from the ball to Marvin. His mind was flooded with a cacophony of sensations and emotions related to the others and himself. Before he could make sense of any of it, he was shoved back to the present with a sickening crack.

He gasped for air and moved a hand to his forehead. Blood escaped through a new crack in his mask. He vaguely knew that he should do something about this, but he was too overwhelmed from the vision to think of what. Maybe he could jusf rest his eyes for a second.

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Flicker, cacophony, and rain as word prompts for you! 3 instead of 1 so that you have a few to choose from haha. Characters are up to you :)

I know you said I could choose, but those three words together gave me such a great mental image I had to use all three.

Happy New Year! Here's my first fic of 2021.

Tonight was the night. A blue moon on Halloween meant that the forces of magic would be strong enough to give this a chance to work. Marvin had spent hours setting up his crystal balls, incense, and spell books in precisely the right positions.

Now it was past sundown, and there was a thunderstorm outside. The beating of the rain on the window seemed to harmonize with Marvin's murmured chants. He had been studying for this for months, and he could barely contain his excitement to put his powers to use to protect his friends.

Still chanting, Marvin sat down at his desk, closed his eyes, and reached toward the ball. It was like a handshake, his mentor had once told him. The crystal ball meets you in the middle. Marvin had a firm handshake.

Like a thousand static shocks, magic flickered from the ball to Marvin. His mind was flooded with a cacophony of sensations and emotions related to the others and himself. Before he could make sense of any of it, he was shoved back to the present with a sickening crack.

He gasped for air and moved a hand to his forehead. Blood escaped through a new crack in his mask. He vaguely knew that he should do something about this, but he was too overwhelmed from the vision to think of what. Maybe he could just rest his eyes for a second.

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Send me some one-word prompts and I might write some ego stories! You can specify a character or two or leave it up to me.

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That moment when you remember days after posting that Donna's ending is the second-to-last episode of season 4, not the finale.

So... I rewatched Doctor Who, got sad about the season 4 finale (Donna's ending) again, and this happened.

Mind the warnings, and feel free to comment telling me whether the canon or the rewrite was sadder.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26690716

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So... I rewatched Doctor Who, got sad about the season 4 finale (Donna's ending) again, and this happened.

Mind the warnings, and feel free to comment telling me whether the canon or the rewrite was sadder.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26690716

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If you can’t think of anything to say about a fic, writers also like to know:

- what time it is

- how long you’ve been reading

- how many chapters you’ve covered in the last 24 hours

- what you were late for because you were reading

- the woeful few hours you have left to sleep

- the emotional outbreaks you’re experiencing

- the inappropriate place you’re having said outbreak

- the general public’s reaction to your outbreak

- how much phone battery you have left

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Write fanfiction guiltlessly. Do it not only because it’s good practice, not only because you don’t feel like putting your energy into original stuff, but because you do feel like putting your energy into fandom. Write fanfics of epic proportions or tiny one-shots; write fluff or angst or cliches or tropes; publish the roughest version or keep the twelfth draft for only yourself. Do it without feeling bad. You owe no one anything; the act of creation is a gift in and of itself, and it doesn’t matter if you’re creating fanfic or original stories or whatever else you want. All that matters is you enjoy it, because why else would you do it at the end of the day?

Write fanfiction guiltlessly.

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But It's Mine

This was inspired by the song "Not Perfect" being on Thomas Sanders' Logan playlist. It went in a direction that its relation to the song is probably not clear anymore, but if I end up writing additional chapters it might make more sense! No promises though LOL

Oh, and I think this is my first time posting Sanders Sides fic, so here's my obligatory disclaimer that character!Thomas is a distinct entity from the real person Thomas, so none of this is representative of my views of the real Thomas.

Title: But It's Mine

Words: 677

"Thomas," Logan said, looking over Thomas' shoulder, "maybe we could read that book today. It's been awhile since we read something that really expanded the mind."

Thomas didn't look at Logan and continued staring at the screen playing Parks and Recreation. "Yeah, I'll do that tomorrow. It seems a little heavy right now."

"You've been saying 'tomorrow' for over a week, Thomas." Logan suppressed the urge to add something more biting- he was logic and the last thing he wanted to represent was negative self talk.

"Oh ho!" Roman interjected, "How about we work on that Parks and Rec fanfic? I've got some great ideas just waiting for your attention."

"Yeah, I'm thinking about it now," said Thomas, not looking at Roman either.

"There's thinking and there's doing! Do you think Mulan saved China by just thinking about it?" Roman posed dramatically.

Thomas sighed and said nothing.

"Come now, Thomas," tried Logan, "There must be something more stimulating you can do with these precious quiet hours we stay up so late for."

"Oh, I have an idea," Remus cackled.

"That's it. I'm going to bed now." Thomas closed the laptop and stomped toward his bedroom.

As much as Logan wanted Thomas to go to bed at a reasonable hour, this was not the ideal outcome for tonight. Thomas ignored Logan for all but settling disputes during the day and promised he would consider reading in the evening, but every evening he would promise to read tomorrow. Yesterday he had even resorted to cleaning much of the clutter in his room in an effort to ignore the sides.

The sides reluctantly sank back into the mindscape.

"It's tough being ignored, huh?" Virgil was sitting in the "light sides" common room (things were a little more fluid now, but the name stuck).

"Virgil, I'm sorry for the part I played in repressing you and the others, but that was ages ago. Am I being punished for something?" Logan pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes in frustration.

"Okay, first of all, the whole acceptance thing is still a work in progress, particularly with the others. But you know that. Anyway, I don't think you're being punished so much as... collateral damage." Virgil seemed almost detached from the conversation, but Logan knew better by now than to judge his expressions too quickly.

"Collateral damage?" Logan asked. "Virgil, what is going on?"

"Thomas has been trying so hard lately to ignore me and Remus and, well," Virgil gestured to the hallway that led to the other common room, "them, that he somehow decided to ignore all of us and pretend to not have any inner voices to listen to."

"Why on earth would he do that? We've been over the flaws of repression countless times." Logan sighed, uncharacteristic when Thomas could see him, but he trusted Virgil.

"Yeah, but as Princey said up there, there's thinking and then there's doing. Thomas is, well, scared," Virgil admitted. "Scared of being complicated. Scared of having to make decisions beyond what distraction to kill time with."

Logan looked at Virgil with an unspoken question in his eyes.

"No, I didn't do this on purpose," said Virgil, "I've always just wanted Thomas to be liked and, I don't know, have a stable life. But I think learning about the others spooked him and he thinks he can filter his way to friendship."

"That's absurd reasoning," said Logan, "Thomas knows his friends are complex individuals and he's never thought less of them."

"Could you tell him that sometime?" Virgil snapped. "If he actually thought like you for a second-"

"I would if he stopped ignoring me!" Logan snapped back. "I'd love to have a hobby out in the world that helps Thomas actually think and stop shrinking his outward presentation to this one-dimensional binge watcher with no controversial feelings." Well, there it was. The negative self talk.

The mind scape rumbled. Thomas was still awake and... thinking about reading?

Logan smoothed his shirt hurriedly and shouted, "Virgil, Roman, come with me! We have an opening!"

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This seems fun!

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So I made a post about how to comment on fics, but if you as an author still find yourself lacking feedback, start soliciting it. It won’t always work, but it can make a huge difference.

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Let’s hear it for lurkers

So apparently round umpty-zillion of “people are killing fandom by not commenting” is going around, and I’ve seen a few posts trashing people for lurking/viewing/reading instead of actively participating.

My journal and my fic has always been a lurker-friendly zone. I think lurkers are great and people can fight me on this. Here’s why:

We all started out as lurkers. Or at least most of us did. Come on. I’m sure some people out there must’ve jumped into fandom with both feet and started writing and commenting right away, and good for you if you did! But I sure didn’t. I lurked for YEARS. And even now, though I’ve been in fandom since before Y2K, whenever I get into a new fandom or a new social media platform, I still lurk. I hang out around the fringes for awhile to get a feeling for the place before starting to participate. Back in the mailing list/bulletin board days, it was usually recommended that people do that on purpose, watch and listen and learn the local lingo and social rules before diving in. So you know what? You are not doing anything wrong and you are not doing anything that most of the people you see out there commenting and creating and reccing things haven’t done themselves.

We all have lurker days, weeks, months …. Nobody is 100% “on” all the time. Participating in fandom (commenting, reccing, creating content, and so forth) is WORK. It may be fun work, but it still takes effort! Even if you’re sometimes very active in fandom, then you’ll have life fall on your head or the brain weasels flare up, and you won’t have the time and energy to give. Don’t feel guilty about not being able to give fandom your extra spoons. No one in fandom has a right to demand a single spoon from you that you don’t want to give.

Some of today’s lurkers may be your friends tomorrow. How do I know this? Because I’ve made friends with some of them myself! I’ve had people delurk in my comments to say hi after YEARS of reading my fanfic without saying a word. Which I am totally okay with, by the way. And some of these people are good friends today.

So, in conclusion:

It is okay to feel too shy to come out of lurkerhood in fandom until you feel more comfortable there. It is fine, in fact, if you never do.

It is okay to be too busy and have too few spoons to comment or create stuff. You still have a perfect right to be in fandom and read and reblog whatever you want.

It is okay if you meant to comment on that fic or go back and press the kudos button but never got around to it.

It is okay if you have too many accounts already and don’t want to create a new one just to comment/participate on a social media platform. 

It is okay if your personal situation (a stalker ex, controlling parents) makes it unsafe for you to create an account or comment on things.

It is okay if you can’t or don’t want to comment or do any of the other things that constitute non-lurkerhood, and you don’t owe anyone an explanation for why.

IT IS OKAY TO BE A LURKER.

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I'm so glad you liked it! That's what I enjoyed about writing it too. It's rare that I get a good opportunity to break the fourth wall. And emotional vulnerability is what whump is all about for me.

I’m in a Discord server with @onemoontorulethemall , and they shared a whump idea that held me at gunpoint until I wrote a fic. Thank you for the inspiration for one of the longest fics I’ve ever written!

Title: Of Monsters and Men

Fandom: Rick and Morty

Word Count: 1684

Warnings: whump, serious injuries, uncensored swearing, canon-typical familial dysfunction (Seriously. If you’re not familiar with the show, this means quite a bit of dysfunction.)

Description: Based on the first arc (Issues 1-3) of the Rick and Morty comics, but the bug doesn’t escape the garage and… you’ll see. Read that if you want to catch cool references, but hopefully this works as a standalone too. But also, read the comic if you’re a fan of Rick and Morty. It deserves more love.

It had been three months since Morty had returned home without Rick: three full months without adventures, without purpose, and with one less person around to yell at him. Morty still didn’t understand why Rick had let him use the one-person portal out of that prison maze. Maybe Rick was done with this family and had finally decided to leave. Well, Morty was sick of living like this. He had to do something. Morty snuck into the garage, loaded some weapons into Rick’s car, and took off.

Keep reading

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I’m in a Discord server with @onemoontorulethemall , and they shared a whump idea that held me at gunpoint until I wrote a fic. Thank you for the inspiration for one of the longest fics I’ve ever written!

Title: Of Monsters and Men

Fandom: Rick and Morty

Word Count: 1684

Warnings: whump, serious injuries, uncensored swearing, canon-typical familial dysfunction (Seriously. If you’re not familiar with the show, this means quite a bit of dysfunction.)

Description: Based on the first arc (Issues 1-3) of the Rick and Morty comics, but the bug doesn’t escape the garage and... you’ll see. Read that if you want to catch cool references, but hopefully this works as a standalone too. But also, read the comic if you’re a fan of Rick and Morty. It deserves more love.

It had been three months since Morty had returned home without Rick: three full months without adventures, without purpose, and with one less person around to yell at him. Morty still didn’t understand why Rick had let him use the one-person portal out of that prison maze. Maybe Rick was done with this family and had finally decided to leave. Well, Morty was sick of living like this. He had to do something. Morty snuck into the garage, loaded some weapons into Rick’s car, and took off.

He barely made it past Mars when he was pulled over by space cops. The trial was much faster this time- he had already been found guilty, and this time Morty didn’t hesitate to make a mockery of the court system. It wasn’t that he wanted to go die in space prison, but he no longer had the energy to care about being good. If things went south, it was just one last hurrah for Morty, you know? No big deal.

They sent him to the same prison as before- Clackspire Labyrinth. Huge monsters and swarms of smaller monsters, none of which Morty recognized, attacked. Morty used Rick’s hidden panels to find weapons that made it easy to slice through every threat. He didn’t feel tired. He was fueled by spite and the desire to not die pathetically.

Morty heard the sounds of monsters being slashed around the next corner. This was strange- none of the prisoners he’d seen survived more than a couple hours, and there hadn’t been any new drop offs. Suddenly, a voice:

“WUBBA LUBBA DUB DUB! EAT THAT!” followed by a blast. Rick? It couldn’t be. His mind must be playing tricks on him. Or worse, this could be just another part of the torture.

“Rick” killed the monster and ran around the corner, bumping right into Morty. “Morty? Wh-what are you doing here?” he asked.

“Oh don’t act so surprised. I know you’re just another monster.” Morty raised his gun, but despite himself, he hesitated.

“Says you, you’re probably the monster! Why the hell would Morty be here?” This image of Rick was pretty realistic. He looked human, not robotic at all, and he was clearly scuffed.

“Enough! I’m going to kill you.” Morty fired, and a ray blasted through Rick’s chest. Wow, this thing had blood? This prison did not half ass psychological torture.

The fake Rick coughed and sputtered as robotic needles stitched flesh back together from the inside. The real Rick had tech on every organ to make him essentially unkillable, and apparently this monster was the same. “Don’t… cross me, you piece of shit.”

“I’ll cross whoever I want! You- you think I'm going to give up?”

Just then, the Rick monster fired a ray gun at Morty. To Morty’s shock, the mortal wound began to heal itself in the same way the Rick’s had. He didn’t remember any loss of consciousness between the trial and being dropped into the maze, and why would they have put such modifications in a prisoner who was supposed to die? But to assume that Rick, the real Rick, had installed them made even less sense. Morty was always expendable, nothing more than a human shield.

Morty pushed the questions aside. He was not going to lose now. “Just because neither of us can die doesn’t mean I won’t try to kill you. How about I aim for where it really hurts?” Morty aimed for Rick’s skull.

The ray bounced off, but the impact knocked Rick into a wall. The Rick was shaken, but he stood up. “You really think I would leave my brain unprotected? Maybe you really are Morty, because I can’t think of anyone else who would be that stupid!”

“Of course I’m Morty! Who the hell are you?” Morty tackled Rick to the ground and grabbed his throat.

“Morty, don’t you get it? We’re both here. You- you gotta believe me. I’ve missed you so much. I let you through that portal because I knew the long way would be dangerous, and you- you deserved to go home. I may act above it all, and I am, but you’re my grandson, Morty. I didn’t want you to have to live the labyrinth life.”

Was Rick… crying? Damn, this was a shitty fake. “Y-you’re not fooling anyone, you know? The real Rick doesn’t care about anything or anybody. He had a coupon for a free replacement Morty from the Citadel of Ricks. I- I bet he’s escaped and gotten a new Morty, maybe even- maybe even a new dimension!” Or, Morty thought hopefully, maybe Rick was about to come rescue him and tell him what a piece of shit he was for ending up back in galactic prison.

Well, Morty was done waiting to be rescued. He let go of the Rick’s throat with one hand and grabbed his ray gun, shooting the impostor directly in the heart. The blast didn’t make it far, but Rick lost consciousness from the impact. Morty sat back, still holding the gun. Everything finally hit as Morty’s numbness dissipated. Morty never wanted to be a killer. He didn’t want to live “the labyrinth life.” All he’d ever wanted was to see cool shit in the multiverse and pretend that impressing his grandpa was an achievable goal. Part of him wished this monster Rick could kill him just so it would all be over.

As if on cue, the monster Rick woke up. Shit, now Morty looked vulnerable. Maybe he could think of a way to use that to his advantage if he mustered the ability to be heartless again.

“You alright, little buddy?” Rick asked, as if he wasn’t the one who had just been unconscious.

“What do you care?” Morty replied. “Either you’re a monster and you want to kill me, or you’re the real Rick and you’re waiting to laugh at me.”

“Okay, that’s pretty reasonable considering how I’ve presented myself for, uh… always. But what if it’s neither?” Rick looked at Morty gently - hadn’t this torture been cruel enough? - and waited for a reply. Morty just stared at him, daring this Rick to prove himself.

“What if, and I’m just spitballing here,” said RIck, “What if I’m your real grandpa and I’ve always cared about you? I’ve been thinking a lot over the past three months, and I think I leaned too heavily on the god complex. Just because I’m literally the smartest being in the universe doesn’t mean I have to be an asshole about it, right?”

Morty let out a snort of laughter despite himself, but he quickly redirected into a scowl.

“Yeah, I deserve that,” Rick continued. “You know, back in season 1- actually, I don’t know where the comic fits in the continuity, let alone the - alright, ignoring the fourth wall, one time I was kidnapped by another version of me who wanted to steal my memories because I was against the Citadel and because I was ‘the Rickest Rick.’ And while he was stealing my memories, they were playing on a screen he had. I saw you as a baby, Morty. He was playing my memories of you, and I actually teared up. I denied it, of course, but in that moment I was thinking about how I’d endangered you by bringing you on these crazy adventures and how all our fun might end in disaster. I don’t want that for you, Morty. That’s why I installed all that protective gear in you while you were sleeping. I never told you because I always had to keep up that god complex attitude. I felt like I’d be a better person without my attachments, and I thought that if anyone knew how I really felt, they’d just use it against us. Do you see what I’m saying, Morty?”

“That’s a good try at a sob story, Rick. I’m almost convinced.” Morty looked down at his hands. “But there’s absolutely nothing you could say to me that would convince me that the real you could be that vulnerable.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Rick said, and suddenly Morty heard a blast and everything went dark.

…

“Huh? Where am I? What did you-” Morty’s vision cleared as his consciousness came back. He seemed to be in his room. Was he dreaming? Dead?

Rick walked in. “If I was a monster, I wouldn’t have set the gun to stun.”

“Huh,” Morty considered, “I guess you’re right.” He paused. “Did you mean what you said back there? Do you really care?”

“Don’t talk so loud. This stays between us, alright?” Rick said in a mock-threatening tone.

Morty grinned. He got out of bed and hugged Rick. “I love you, Grandpa Rick.”

Rick returned the hug. “I love you too, Morty.”

Rick stepped out into the living room where Beth, Jerry, and Summer were sitting. “You heard nothing,” he announced.

“Okay, sure thing,” said Summer, not looking up from her phone.

“Is Morty okay?” asked Beth.

“He’s going to be fine. I want- I want to really drive the point home that you did not just overhear a tender moment of familial affection involving Rick Sanchez, smartest man in the universe.” Rick crossed his arms and glared at Jerry.

“Whatever you say, Rick,” said Jerry, clearly disappointed that Rick was back and taking charge again.

“Thanks for bringing him back, Dad,” Beth said. “We were so worried. And don’t worry, your secret is safe with us.”

“My secret is not safe with you,” Rick fumed, “because it’s not with you. You have no secret, capiche?”

“Grandpa, get off her case,” said Summer. “I’m sure you’re the same asshole you always were.”

“That’s right! Rick never learns a lesson!” Rick went out to the front door and seemed to shout at the universe in general. “Rick and Morty a thousand years, no emotional vulnerability! Okay maybe a little, sometimes, but only when lives are at stake! The word count on this thing got really out of hand, but you’re still listening! Fuck the fourth wall! Roll credits and theme music!”