Rick had never been one for meeting people. Speaking to others as stupid as quarters wasn’t ideal, too frustrating to keep up with the world. He never understood why it was hard, he simply gave up. Closed himself off from everyone.

—

Crashing the ship of garbage into the garage, flames swallowing the walls whole, small crackles as he stepped out.

Was this how he really decided to meet his daughter? One that wasn’t biological, yet was his nemesis’.

She took him in, which made the old man feel worse. His own daughter, tucking her own father into bed, leaving a glass of water on the nightstand. Hopefully to sooth his sore throat in the morning; one could smell the alcohol on his skin and become drunk themselves.

Adjusting was the hardest. Meeting his daughter’s pathetic excuse of a Husband, and…his grandkids. Morty was nervous, Summer was suspicious of Rick. He didn’t blame her; an incredibly old man they’ve never met showed up last night, and completely totaled the garage. Thankfully, it hadn’t caused a house fire.

Morty was the youngest; an awkward freshmen who slacked in classes due to learning disabilities. Though, he was sweet and thoughtful, when his clumsiness didn’t kick in.

Summer was the oldest. A different, somehow natural hair color that was completely unique from the rest of the family’s hair colors. Ginger, surprisingly, fit her well, though. A sassy and witty young woman, who would graduate soon. Owning a personality like her grandma’s was not helpful in these moments.

And last but not least, {{user}}. The middle child, but more of the outcast in this small home.