Guys, I found the source of Beth's image >.<, it's created by fr34ky5!
Check her out if you want...I think I'll use her free picture if there's any chance and of course I'll shout out to her.
But daaaaamn, she's so talented man...iykwim ;3
- - - - - - - - - -
Rod's eyes snapped open.
No noise woke him, not exactly — more like a pressure, a wrongness in the air, the way the River of Time felt when it was watching.
He sat up silently, scanning the dark.
The faint creak of the old house was there, but underneath it, something else.
Something breathing.
Slipping out of bed, Rod padded into the hallway.
The temperature dropped with each step, like the air was leaking out into somewhere it shouldn't.
He passed Diane's door — quiet, safe — and Beth's room, the soft snoring of a child inside.
Then, at the far end of the hall, just where the shadows pooled too deeply, he saw it.
A distortion.
Not a figure exactly, but a ripple in space, like the shape of something pretending not to be there.
It shimmered faintly, the way heat waves do over asphalt, except this carried fragments of… time.
Rod's hand twitched toward the seal signs, but before he could start, the ripple folded in on itself — gone without a sound.
He stood there in the cold silence, watching the empty space.
The house went back to breathing normally.
But now he knew something had been inside.
- - - - - - - - - -
Diane leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded, watching Rick fiddle with something metallic and unnecessarily sparky.
(Diane's image)
Rod sat on the counter beside him, spinning a screwdriver idly between his fingers.
"So," Diane began, "have you two thought about sending Beth to school?"
Rod blinked, then burst into a laugh.
"Mom, you can't possibly think there's a better teacher than me… or Rick, but mostly me."
Rick didn't look up from his tinkering.
"Y-yeah, Diane, c'mon, school's for the dumb people. It's… it's dumb. Like, textbook dumb.
Dumb in a way that makes other dumb people dumber."
Diane sighed — the kind of long-suffering exhale she'd perfected back when both of them were alive the first time.
"Maybe for you two it's been too long, but Beth's different. Even I'm aware you've both been in some kind of… time loop before you died."
Rick snorted, muttering under his breath about "half-right guesses" and "low-information timelines."
Diane pressed on. "It's not about the studying, to be honest. I want Beth to have friends her age.
You know — other kids, actual socializing.
Do either of you have any idea what that's like?"
Rod glanced toward the backyard.
Beth was out there with a pulse rifle, methodically blasting soda cans off the fence.
Each shot was clean, precise, almost too precise for a kid her age.
He looked back at Rick, then at Diane.
"Rather than that, Mom… why don't all of us just go on a little vacation?"
Rick froze mid-turn of his wrench, eyeing Rod suspiciously.
"Vacation? Wh-what's your angle, kid?
Nobody in this family says 'vacation' without meaning 'death trap in disguise.'"
Rod smirked. "Maybe that's the point."
Beth's voice floated in from outside. "Can I bring my plasma knives?"
(Kid Beth's image)
Rod grinned wider. "See? She's already packing."
Diane put her hands on her hips, torn between exasperation and reluctant curiosity. "Alright, genius boys, where exactly is this vacation?"
Rod's smirk started slow, curling like smoke. "Oh, you're gonna love this one, mom… we're goin' off-planet."
The living room looked like a bomb had gone off in a department store.
Clothes, gadgets, alien trinkets, and snack packs were scattered across the floor in vaguely organized piles.
Diane stood at the center, hands on her hips. "Okay, everyone — pack what you actually need.
No death rays, no experimental explosives, no—"
"Yeah, yeah, buzzkill alert," Rick interrupted from the couch, stuffing an unmarked metal case into his duffel.
"If you can't bring explosives on vacation, it's not a vacation."
Beth was kneeling by her backpack, slipping two plasma knives into a side pocket. She looked up innocently.
"What? They fold up."
Rod was already halfway packed, his side of the room a neat lineup of compact survival tools, med kits, and what looked suspiciously like a portable gene splicer.
"Mom, don't worry — between me and Rick, nothing's gonna happen."
Diane shot him a flat look. "That sentence is the exact opposite of comforting."
Rick zipped up his bag with a flourish.
"Relax, Diane. Calypso-9's a classy place. Nothing but sun, sand, and just a teensy bit of reality-warping cosmic fauna."
Beth's eyes lit up. "Do they have those giant alien seashells you can sleep inside?"
Rod smirked. "They have ones that sing lullabies in twelve dimensions."
Diane rubbed her forehead. "Alright, fine, but I'm packing a med kit."
Rick scoffed. "Pfft. Amateur."
- - - - - - - - - -
The ship cut through the teal glow of a nebula, gliding toward a massive, glittering sphere hanging in the void.
From a distance, it looked like a crystal ball — swirling colors inside, tiny continents floating in clouds, golden rings humming softly around its equator.
Rod leaned back in the co-pilot seat, eyeing the readouts.
"Are you sure this place isn't on some galactic travel advisory list?"
Rick's grin widened.
"Nope. It's off the list, which is even better.
No taxes, no cops, no Federation busybodies… just pure, unregulated hedonism, baby."
Diane stood behind them, peering through the viewport. "It's beautiful."
Rick waved his hand.
"Yeah, yeah, scenic postcards, blah blah. Wait till you see the amenities."
They broke through the sphere's atmosphere with a shimmer, and the inside opened up like a snow globe turned paradise.
Islands floated lazily in warm sky currents, waterfalls poured from clouds into crystal lakes, and giant flowers drifted through the air like balloons.
Whole flocks of rainbow-feathered birds dipped between hovering resorts made of glass and gold.
Beth's eyes went wide. "Whoa… it's like Disneyland had a baby with a Lisa Frank notebook."
Rod smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment."
The ship descended toward a sprawling resort perched on the back of what looked suspiciously like a docile, mile-long space turtle.
Sunlight bounced off the white-sand beaches that ringed its shell.
Rick gestured with both hands like a game show host.
"Welcome to Calypso-9 — best vacation spot in twelve universes, and it only tries to eat you, like, forty percent of the time."
Diane frowned. "Wait, what was that last part?"
But before she could press him, the docking platform slid under the ship, and the warm scent of alien flowers filled the cabin.
A welcoming party of tall, elegant humanoids in iridescent robes waved from the edge, carrying drinks that glowed faintly in the afternoon light.
Beth pressed her face to the glass. "They have cotton candy clouds! Oh my god!"
Rick smirked. "Yep. And in about two hours, those clouds are gonna—"
Rod cut him off with a pointed look. "Let's not ruin the surprise, old man."
Calypso-9 looked like paradise wrapped in neon.
Twin suns glittered across an ocean that shimmered like liquid opal, waves lapping against a shoreline where crystalline sand crunched like sugar under their boots.
Holographic palm trees swayed in perfect rhythm to music piped from invisible speakers, and far in the distance, alien whales leapt in slow motion through the air.
Rick leaned back, hands on his hips, eyes scanning the horizon like a king surveying his kingdom.
The man was grinning so wide, you'd think he invented the place.
"Perfect. Absolutely perfect. This—this is it, kid. Best vacation spot in any goddamn reality. I outdid myself."
Rod stood beside him, hands shoved in his pockets.
He was smiling, sure, but there was a little crease between his brows, the kind that made it clear his brain was chewing on something.
"You're weirdly proud about this," he muttered.
"I mean… I'm happy too, but something feels… off. I feel mom has become a lil bit weird... does mom always act like this?"
Rick glanced sideways at him, one brow cocked.
"Off? Kid—what're you fucking talking weird out about?
Lemme ask you one question, kid. Whose DNA do you think is actually the dangerous one here?
Mine or Diane's?"
Rod blinked, like the answer was obvious. "Of course it's you… right?"
Rick barked a laugh so loud it startled a nearby beach vendor, who dropped a tray of glowing cocktails into the sand.
"HAHAHAHA! Ohhh, kid… what the hell are you talking about?
It's all Diane!
All the chaos?
From her!
To the very last molecule, all the madness is from her genes, kid!
Do you really not remember how I used to be?"
Rod frowned. "You were… what? A selfish, sarcastic jackass?"
"Yeah, but a chill, selfish, sarcastic jackass," Rick corrected, waving a hand.
"Our adventures? Back in the day? Mostly just me running heists for crap I needed.
Low body count. I didn't even want to kill 'em.
But then I lost Diane and Beth, and bam—next thing you know, I'm this."
He gestured to himself like a visual aid for 'deranged genius.'
Rod rubbed his chin, thinking.
"Hm…that's kinda true. But, old man, mom never gave off dangerous, chaotic, or—uh—murder-y vibes.
Not like me. Or Beth. Or, you know, you."
Rick snorted and started toward Diane and Beth, who were already "settling in" in ways that didn't look particularly vacation-like.
Diane was negotiating—loudly—with a Calypso-9 lifeguard about borrowing their high-powered hover-rescue skiff "just for a while."
Beth was halfway up a holographic palm tree with a stick, trying to whack the glowing fruit down… while the tree hissed at her.
"Kid, kid, kid… facts are facts, you need to accept them with an open heart.
You just can't fathom how Diane's mad genes slipped into her kind's psyche yet.
I became a selfish prick with zero attachment after I built the portal gun, started hopping dimensions, hypothetically became a god, yadda yadda, 'Rickest Rick,' whatever.
But your mom?
Lemme just ask you one thing, kid—who was the one mostly raising Beth all that time?"
Rod didn't even hesitate. "Mom, of course."
"Bingo! Now," Rick continued, "when that motherf—" He caught himself, glancing at Beth.
"…that loser erased your mom from existence and scrubbed most memories of her, what did Beth grow up into, huh?
How'd she act from, 'Dad, can I have a dimension to trap my friend?' to not allowing her kids to drop out of school."
Rod's brow furrowed, then his gaze dropped as the pieces began to slot into place.
His mind flickered through memories: Beth as a kid, loud and mischievous, then the calmer, almost distant adult Beth they knew now.
He'd always chalked it up to her losing him from her life, but now…Rod's brain clicked.
"…Different. Way different from our Beth. I always thought it was 'cause she lost her memories with me, so mom's influence on her is str—"
Rick cut him off with a laugh and a shrug. "Hahaha, now you get it, kid!"
"Oh… oh shit," he muttered, straightening as if the thought physically hit him.
"So Mom's also not exactly right in the head… which means—" his voice rose with mock triumph, "—I'm the most normal one here!"
He said it with a sigh that carried the false dignity of a man accepting an award he didn't want.
Somewhere in the higher dimensions, entities that had been casually eavesdropping collectively spat out their cosmic drinks.
"WHAT THE HELL DID HE JUST SAY?" echoed across layers of existence, curses raining down from incomprehensible beings.
Rod ignored them, because... of course he did.
"Tell yourself that, kid. Now watch your mom and your sister in their natural habitat."
Down the pier, Diane and Beth were deep into what Rod could only describe as "a mutual bad influence loop."
Beth had somehow gotten herself a set of iridescent Calypso-9 hover-blades and was tearing circles around street vendors, skimming so close that she clipped one stall and sent a whole tray of glowing dumplings into orbit.
Diane didn't scold her—oh no, she was egging her on while simultaneously haggling for something that looked suspiciously like an alien flare gun.
When Rod finally caught up, Rod glanced into the bag.
Half the contents were clearly illegal, the other half were probably more illegal.
"Mom… what is this?"
"Souvenirs," Diane said sweetly, before raising her voice to Beth.
"That's it, sweetheart, tighter turn! Make them feel it!"
Beth skated back in a wide arc, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.
"Did you see me dodge that vendor's cane? He tried to whack me!"
"Aww, sweetie, look how cute you are."
Diane nodded approvingly, taking the flare gun from a merchant and tucking it into her coat like she'd just bought a loaf of bread.
Rod dragged a hand down his face.
"You know, when Rick said this vacation was perfect, I didn't think 'perfect' meant arming my little sister and turning her into an urban menace."
Beth zipped by again, stopping just long enough to grin.
"It's not arming if I already had the blaster, genius."
Rick finally caught up, sipping something fizzy out of a cup that was definitely smoking.
"Hey, if the kid's gonna grow up in this family, she might as well get field experience.
Plus, it's fun to watch her terrorise strangers who deserve it."
Rod opened his mouth to argue, but Beth had already launched into another round, weaving between alien tourists, one of them screaming in some high-pitched language.
Diane leaned back against the pier railing, watching with unmistakable pride.
Rod stood next to her, bag of contraband still in his arms. "You're not worried at all?"
Diane gave him a side glance.
"If you think she's dangerous now, you should've seen me when I was her age. Ask your father."
Rick, hearing that, nearly choked on his drink.
"HA! Yeah, tell him about the Neruul smuggling ring, D."
Beth zipped back again, hair wind-tossed, holding a trophy that definitely wasn't hers.
"Who's hungry? I'm hungry. Let's eat!"
Rod shook his head, but a reluctant smile tugged at his lips.
He'd come here expecting a relaxing, "normal" trip—whatever that meant in their family.
Instead, he was holding a bag of illegal goods while his mom and sister grinned like co-conspirators.
They ended up at a seaside cantina built into the cliffside, Calypso-9's twin suns setting in a slow golden bleed across the ocean.
The place smelled like grilled kelp and ozone from the salt-fog generators overhead.
Beth was already at a booth before anyone could tell her to sit, smacking her palms against the table like she was summoning a waiter.
"Service! We need food for four! And make it fast!"
The alien server blinked its four eyes, unsure if this was a robbery or a dinner order.
"Tone it down, little devil," Rod muttered, sliding in beside her.
"Why? We're on vacation!" Beth kicked her feet under the table like she owned the place.
"Also, I'm starving. Also, I might have stolen someone's space shrimp on the way here."
Diane slipped into the opposite side of the booth, next to Rick, and handed Rod one of the "souvenirs" from earlier.
"This'll make you feel better."
Rod peered at it—it was a small bottle, half-filled with an iridescent liquid that looked like it was breathing.
"Uh… what is it?"
"Rick says it's a local specialty," Diane said innocently.
Rick grinned, swirling his own glass of the stuff.
"Oh, you're in for a ride, kid. This stuff hits like a truck, then apologizes to you in song."
The food arrived—platters of sizzling eel-fruit, bowls of thick, spicy stew, and something the server called "floating dumplings" that kept floating an inch off the plate until someone stabbed them with a fork.
Beth immediately went for the floating dumplings, jabbing them like a seasoned hunter.
"Get over here!"
"Beth," Diane said warningly, but there was laughter under her voice.
She reached across to spear one herself, deliberately missing to let Beth snatch it first.
Rick clinked his glass against Rod's.
"See? Perfect vacation. Food, family, and no time paradoxes—yet."
Rod raised his own drink reluctantly.
"Yeah. Though I still don't know if this is more dangerous than fighting the River of Time."
"Depends," Rick smirked, nodding toward Beth, who had somehow ended up with most of the dumplings.
"In the wrong hands, food's a weapon."
Beth swallowed a mouthful and grinned.
"Then I'm your ultimate weapon."
Rod groaned. Diane reached over and patted his hand.
"Relax. You used to be worse at her age."
Rick raised a brow.
"Pfft, understatement. Kid once tried to build a bomb out of kitchen appliances."
"Wait—that worked," Diane reminded him with a laugh.
"Blew the roof clean off the garage."
The new round of platters landed like small miracles—noddling noodles looped in mid-air, levitating dumplings bobbing above their plates, and a Lunar Egg Bloom sizzling low on heat yet still glowing with life.
Rick sat back, surveying the feast with a smug glint in his eye.
This was precisely the chaos he'd engineered: charming, harmless, utterly Calypso-9.
"That was worth every quantum destabilizer I built," he murmured, scanning the table proudly.
Rod shrugged, trying to match Rick's grin but finding it incomplete.
There was an itch in his brain that told him something wasn't lining up.
Rick's smugness only deepened the feeling.
Then suddenly, Rick's breath hitched, BugAnne walked in through the entrance—a tall, insectoid woman with iridescent green hair that caught the light with every blink.
(BugAnne's image)
Her presence was calm but sharp, confident as if she owned the very air she breathed.
There was, for a beat, no recognition—until she locked eyes with Rick.
Her smile sharpened, cunning and knowing.
Rick's grin froze.
Rod glanced up, spotting the tense shift before anyone spoke.
BugAnne's voice cut in, silk draped over steel: "Rick Sanchez."
Rick's voice caught in his throat—hoarse, mutinous. "Buganne."
Silence gathered thickly in the air.
Diane and Beth, mid-laugh, didn't follow the charge of tension—just blinked, unaware—and continued finger-poking at levitating noodles as orderly as anything.
Rick looked at Rod, then Diane, his face whiter than the lunar bloom between them, and the single word escaped between clenched teeth:
"F—Fuck!"
- - - - - - - - - -
Do you get any of that?
I forgot to put Diane's and Kid Beth's image so I put 'em here.
That's all guys, peace!