Angry-blue-bird - Im So Tired

[BRIAN THOMAS, TOBY ROGERS, TIMOTHY WRIGHT x FEM! READER]

chapter warning. gore, death, mutilation, maggots, talk of killing an animal, gutting an animal.

wc. 7860

authors note. this fic gonna be long asf so buckle up. sorry its lowkey boring up yk its building suspense. any questions about the fic or concerns please submit an ask!

important, read. even though this is implied to be a female reader that has she/her pronouns, I suggest downloading this extension for Microsoft edge to replace [Y/N] as your name and to replace she/her with your preferred pronouns to make you feel more comfortable if you do not identify as a female.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏: 𝐇𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐘𝐑𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄

meaning. a mushroom that grows over decaying bodies

As the sun rose above the eastern horizon, casting its golden hues across the land, a lone car ventured forth on the winding roads leading to Grove, Oklahoma. The engine purred softly, its rhythmic hum blending harmoniously with the melody of nature. With the sounds of soft rock and country preoccupying the silence that the car held in its void. The silence was filled with the songs of Linda Ronstadt, and Deana Carter; two maestros of musical storytelling, graced the airwaves, serenading the passenger with a poignant repertoire of cherished memories. The tunes resounded with the recollections of sun-drenched summers spent in the Western fields, where her mother's berry farm unfurled its emerald charm.

[Y/N]’s mind wandered back to the days when the weathered white barn stood as a sentinel, and the family's nearly antique truck nestled alongside, an endearing relic from bygone eras. Each note carried her back to the sight of verdant paint curling and surrendering to the passage of time, revealing glimpses of raw metal beneath. She vividly recalled the delicate act of running her nails over the lifted layers of paint, peeling them away one by one, as if uncovering the hidden stories embedded within the truck's weathered facade.

In nothing but her nightgown, [Y/N] ventured out, her bare feet delicately dangling just beyond the worn-out Ford logo adorning the truck bed. Wandering through the fields, she traversed the rough terrain, her feet bearing the brunt of her barefoot journey. The berry saplings, a recurring sight in spring and summer, had now blossomed, displaying their succulent fruits as late summer approached. Yet before their transformation, the bushes stood tall, their leaves pointed and vigorous. Her path, confined to the Western fields, beckoned her toward the barn. Basking in abundant sunlight, the western expanse fostered accelerated growth, causing the saplings there to sprout thorns at a rapid pace. As a consequence, the girl’s feet endured the accumulation of mud and crusty blood, an undeniable testament to her traversing the formidable fields.

With dirtied feet and a stained nightgown, she embarked on her ritual every morning, just before the sun's radiant glow graced the sky. Ascending the antique truck, she found her perch, eagerly awaiting the mesmerizing spectacle of the sun's rays stretching across the vast expanse of land. Yet, amidst this ethereal beauty, her heart danced with anticipation for a different kind of awakening.

As the first glimmers of light began to peek over the horizon, a familiar melody filled the airwaves, heralding the start of a brand new day. Soft country tunes, like those sung by Tanya Tucker and The Judds, tenderly embraced her senses. However, her ears strained for one particular tune, a treasure she yearned for each morning at 8 AM.

And then it happened—John Denver's timeless classic, "Take Me Home, Country Roads," resounded through the airwaves, soothing her soul with its heartfelt lyrics. Sitting atop her vantage point, she became a symphony of joy, her voice bursting forth despite its imperfections. With every note, she poured her heart into the song, her little lungs valiantly attempting to reach every high and low.

Though [Y/N]’s singing may have lacked finesse, it mattered not, for her spirit soared with unbridled enthusiasm. Without pausing for breath, she sang the entire composition, as if on a sacred mission to carry its melody across the rolling hills and valleys. In those precious moments, the world was her stage, and she, the star of her own enchanting performance.

 Queens ensemble of trumpets and brass instruments harmoniously faded into a gentle hum, merging with the engine's subtle vibrations. With every turn of the wheel, a captivating journey unfolded, transporting her to an enchanting realm where time lost its urgency, and the world transformed into a vibrant symphony of colors.

[Y/N]’s grip on the steering wheel remained relaxed, a testament to her confidence in navigating the road ahead. However, the weight of exhaustion was evident beneath her eyes, concealed by bags that hung like heavy burdens. Her gaze alternated between the winding road and the small, blaring red text of the clock on her car monitor: 7:59 A.M.

Anxiously, her fingers drummed against the supple leather steering wheel, mirroring the racing beat of her heart. Her eyes darted back and forth, desperately seeking confirmation of the fleeting minutes. As the hum of the engine threatened to engulf her senses, its dominance was suddenly overpowered by the opening notes of John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads."

In that moment, her attention was captivated by the red letters once more, and they revealed the time: 8:00 A.M. A gentle hum escaped her lips, akin to a sigh of relief, as she muttered along with the song's lyrics, embracing them with unwavering devotion. Without pausing to catch her breath, she sang along, infusing her voice with the song's nostalgic melodies.

The road stretched out like an asphalt ribbon, carving its way through sprawling meadows and rolling hills. Fields of emerald green extended as far as the eye could see, adorned with delicate wildflowers that danced in the gentle breeze. The air, crisp and invigorating, carried with it the scent of earth and the promise of new beginnings.

As the car glided forward, the scenery unfolded like pages in a vivid tapestry.Towering trees lined the roadside, their branches stretching toward the heavens like ancient sentinels. Leaves shimmered with a kaleidoscope of autumnal shades, painting the landscape with fiery reds, burnt oranges, and golden yellows. The trees seemed to whisper secrets to one another, their rustling leaves creating a symphony of nature's own design.

The road wound its way up and down gentle slopes, revealing panoramic vistas that stole the breath away. Mountain ranges stood majestically in the distance, their peaks kissed by the wisps of ethereal clouds. They stood as guardians of the landscape, their stony faces etched with the stories of ages gone by. But nothing could compare to Grand Lake. 

The bridge, spanning what felt like endless miles, gracefully arched over the water, its reflection shimmering in the gentle waves. As if in a dance, a multitude of boats navigated the water's expanse, trailing wakes that glistened in the crystalline depths, mirroring the celestial azure above and the passing cars on the bridge. The radiant spectacle transformed the water into an irrefutably luminous spectacle. It seemed as though liquid silver veins intricately intertwined with the land, carrying the harmonious melodies of life and the captivating tales of the creatures that resided within its mysterious depths. Geese gracefully etched invisible patterns against the vast canvas of the heavens, casting a mesmerizing spell on the onlookers below.

The scratching of gears wound up, blending into the symphony of sound, as the window glass slowly rolled down. The mechanical protest produced a terrible screeching sound, reminiscent of an animal's anguished cry, piercing the air and capturing her attention. Her eyes widened, captivated by the scene that unfolded before her.

Inhaling deeply, she savored the dewy summer air that gracefully entered her lungs, infusing her with an ardent fervor. Each breath became an embrace of life itself. The atmosphere, cool and revitalizing, carried a tangible energy, blending the essence of earth with the promise of new beginnings. The aroma of raindrops and freshly cut grass intermingled, filling her senses with a harmonious fragrance that evoked a sense of contentment. As she exhaled, a sigh of satisfaction escaped her lips, releasing any lingering tension—contentment.

The car engine purred in agreement at the sight of landscape, the tranquility of and complete beauty was simply enchanting.  

In a graceful display of poise and determination, she effortlessly steered the sleek vehicle away from the confines of the bustling main road, opting instead for a captivating detour onto a secluded single-lane path. As the tires glided over the uneven terrain, the verdant canopy of lush green forests enveloped the winding road.

Along this path, a humble dirt road emerged, veering away from the well-trodden route. Its weathered surface, pockmarked and rough, dictated a slower pace, Each jolt and tremor sent ripples of anticipation coursing through her veins, heightening her senses as she pressed on with unwavering resolve.

Gradually, the path unveiled a breathtaking vista, an opening that seemed to materialize from the very fabric of a storybook. A small pond, its crystalline waters shimmering under the gentle caress of the sunlight, beckoned with an irresistible allure. Nestled harmoniously by its side, a resplendent cabin emerged, a captivating testament to rustic beauty.

The cabin, although once a haven of tranquility, now appeared as a relic of forgotten memories, as if time itself had woven a shroud of neglect around its weathered exterior. Weeds triumphantly sprawled across the surroundings, their emerald tendrils dancing in the wind, while determined vines conquered the cabin's weathered facade, gracefully ascending its walls in a seemingly eternal embrace with nature itself.

In this serene tableau, the intrepid traveler found herself drawn to the essence of this forgotten refuge. Its dilapidated state only served to enhance the mystique, inviting her to uncover the tales that lay dormant within its timeworn walls. She sensed that beneath the encroaching foliage and the fading echoes of life, whispers of untold stories and echoes of forgotten laughter still resonated within, yearning for someone to listen, to breathe new life into their cherished existence.

As the shadows danced amidst the rustling leaves, she stepped out of her vehicle, her footsteps cautious yet filled with reverence as the gravel beneath her crunched. The air seemed to hold its breath in anticipation, as if the surroundings acknowledged her arrival, recognizing the significance of this encounter.

As her boots pressed against the gravel roadway, their crunch merged seamlessly with the harmonious of natural sounds that enveloped the picturesque surroundings. Advancing towards the cabin, each step resonated through the ancient floorboards of the front porch, releasing a melancholic creak as if the timeworn planks were exhaling with a subtle sigh. Weathered by countless footsteps, the wooden planks bore the indelible marks of their enduring journey, their once vibrant hue now transformed into a rich, dark oak shade. Inhaling deeply, she absorbed the essence of the place, her hand gravitating toward the doorknob of the screen door. For a fleeting moment, her gaze caught the old rocking chair, swaying gently in response to the playful caress of the breeze that meandered through the air. Finally, [Y/N]’s turned the the doorknob as the screen door creaked open—exhaling.

 She inhaled, the sharp fragrance of pine and bleach wove its way into her senses, its pungency tugging at her  nostrils. Their potent combination was not without consequence, for it provoked a reaction within her, eliciting a gentle scrunching of her nose. 

The house exuded an eerie aura of both familiarity and enigma.  She found herself standing in an expansive, open area cabin, devoid of hallways, which seemed to beckon her further inside. With each step, the immaculate cleanliness of the interior revealed itself, creating an almost surreal ambiance.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the second floor, with its single set of stairs ascending like a mysterious gateway to another realm. On the ground floor, to her right, lay a quaint and compact kitchen, an intimate space that appeared to have witnessed the preparation of countless meals and conversations with its worn down appliances. 

To her left, the living room stretched before her like a tapestry of memories. A comfortable couch adorned the space, an inviting haven where the occupants must have spent many hours engrossed in captivating tales or deep contemplation. In front of the couch, the heart of the room resided—a grand fireplace. Its flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, seemingly whispering forgotten secrets.

Perched atop the fireplace, an old flat screen TV served as a window to the past, where characters from era that might have come alive came alive, momentarily escaping their scripted confines. The juxtaposition of the antiquated screen and the modernity it once represented painted a vivid portrait of the house's intriguing history.

Yet, despite all the intriguing elements that adorned the room, her gaze eventually shifted downward to the very foundation of the space. The wooden floor bore the weight of countless footsteps and stories, its grainy texture inviting her to feel the past as she walked upon it.

In the realm of her consciousness, she possessed an intimate knowledge of the house's history. In the era preceding her own, her beloved grandparents had entrusted its care to a man of enigmatic nature, one by the name of Willard Tucker. The townsfolk, adorned with tales and whispers, had deemed him a peculiar figure, cloaked in the shadows of perceived insanity. Yet, the precise details eluded her, veiled behind a shroud of uncertainty. All that remained were fragments of narratives whispered through the winds of time—stories suggesting that the man, his heart shattered by the loss of his wife, had departed for the fertile lands of West Virginia, seeking solace within the embrace of family ties, all while taking up farming.

She had guessed that Willard was the reason for the foul smell of cleaning products. Cleaning and scrubbing off residue so as to not leave it behind for the next tenant. That being her—a girl from small town Kansas in the depths of the west. However, she secretly cursed Willard for using so much of the cleaning product.

Upstairs and to the left, In the midst of simplicity, her bedroom exuded a quiet charm. Nestled against the wall, a regal queen-sized bed commanded the center stage, flanked by two modest nightstands. On the left, a generous window framed the wall, revealing a glimpse of the  wooden sanctuary beyond.

As she gazed through the window's translucent pane, a tingle of anticipation caressed her being. It was as if the wistful tendrils of nature, woven into the fabric of the scene, beckoned her. The sheer simplicity of the room was deceptive, for within its unassuming boundaries. A shiver traced its delicate fingers along her spine, electrifying the air with a gentle chill.

She shook it off as paranoia. 

As she ventured into the confines of the bathroom, her delicate fingers gently placed the small pills of respite into the trinity of mirrors ensconced within the cabinet. Ambien, a faithful companion in her torment against insomnia, found solace in this sanctuary. The affliction had haunted her since the early years of her high school debut when a merciless onslaught of ghastly nightmares infiltrated her slumber. Rarely, she could sleep without nightmares, rarely she could sleep at all. Not through a full night at least. In a valiant attempt to retain her grasp on reality, she adorned her abode with vibrant beacons of guidance, neon yellow sticky notes that served as simple reminders.

Before she placed the pills in their place, with meticulous care, she tenderly appraised the contents of each vial, her discerning gaze fixed upon the pills nested within. Twelve, she confirms. Retrieving a vibrant yellow sticky note from her pocket from her linen jacket, her blue pen danced across the note, etching the numbers upon the labels of both bottles with blue ink. 

Nestled gently beside the cabin lies a quaint garden, albeit a modest one, marred by a profusion of resilient weeds. Throughout her family’s lineage, they had cultivated a bounteous farm teeming with an abundance of blossoms, nourishing produce, and succulent fruits. This trio, her mother, father, and herself, helmed a "berry utopia"—an expanse of verdant fields, stretching across countless acres, brimming with an assortment of fruit:  blueberries, blackberries, vibrant raspberries, strawberries, and cranberries—each variety harvested with unyielding dedication.

As her gaze fell upon the  garden, now overrun and wild, a surge of nostalgia washed over her like a familiar melody from a song. The sight evoked memories of her home, where there were fields upon fields of saplings of fresh berries. Determination welled up within her, fueled by a profound sense of connection. With resolute certainty, she understood that this hallowed ground deserved to be restored to its former glory. And then this became her mission.

With a hum, she nestled into the plush embrace into the seat of her car, releasing a wearied sigh that spoke volumes about her exhaustion. The weight of countless sleepless nights seemed to settle beneath her eyes, casting shadowy hues that deepened with each passing moment. Her gaze drifted toward the console, where a vibrant neon yellow sticky note had found a temporary perch upon the sleek gear shift. Delicately scripted upon its surface were two simple yet poignant words: "Call Mom."

A flicker of recollection sparked within her. Reminding her of the promise she had made to her worry-laden mother. A call was expected, an assurance of her safe arrival. Jane, her mother, possessed a peculiar knack for turning fret into an art form, yet in her own idiosyncratic way, her daughter desired nothing more than the act of vanishing without a trace.

In the tender embrace of  Jane’s watchful care, her protective nature has forever been her daughters steadfast companion. Jane ardently desired for [Y/N] to remain by her side, nestled within the sanctuary of her love, tending to the bountiful fields of the farm until the end of days. Undoubtedly, affection for her only child knows no bounds, yet an undeniable sense of confinement subtly gnawed at her being. 

Since the untimely demise of [Y/N]’s beloved father, a transformative shift enveloped her mother's being. Like a shadow cast by the moon's gentle glow, she became an ever-watchful sentinel, closely monitoring her daughter's every step with unwavering dedication. Her love took on an armor of protection, shielding [Y/N] from the world's perils with an intensity that left her in awe. The mere notion of forging friendships seemed inconceivable, friends were near to few, yet she made it through. 

As she embarked on her journey to the store, a fleeting thought of reaching out to her beloved mother danced in her mind, promising to materialize into a heartfelt conversation once she fulfilled her immediate errands. Before delving into the realm of garden essentials, a trusty blue ballpoint pen found its place in her hand, etching a list: a delightful assortment of blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, and  blackberries. A sudden mishap tainted the pristine clarity of the yellow paper, as her thumb inadvertently collided with the wet ink, obfuscating the very last word with an smudge, rendering it a mere blur, without her noticing

The jingle reverberating through the air above the door was no delightful melody, but rather a haunting creak that sent shivers down one's spine. As the door swung shut, it unleashed a piercing screech, its brass hinges groaning under the weight of accumulated rust. In that moment, it seemed as though a flurry of white paint chips had erupted into the air, propelled by the force with which the door had slammed shut. She was consumed by a wave of embarrassment, cast her gaze around, desperately seeking an opportunity to offer a timid apology to the cashier. Regrettably, the name tag affixed to the cashier's uniform bore the name "Ranae Reeds," yet the older woman remained oblivious to the commotion, deeply engrossed in the captivating narrative of her newspaper, so captivated that she spared not even a passing glance.

The quaint little store exuded an ambiance both intimate and grundgy. Its petite dimensions were adorned with luminous streams of yellow light, gently cascading overhead, a mesmerizing sight that lured a vibrant array of insects, their presence immortalized by a delicate layer of expired life at the base of the ceiling fixtures. Amidst this glow, a second source of illumination emerged from the rear of the store, emanating from the flickering glow of the freezers, whose contents contained nothing but dairy products.

Four rows stood in perfect formation, each aisle beckoning with an irresistible allure. Yet, it was the initial 3rd island that caught her attention. Like echoes from her college days, these rows overflowed with an abundance of budget-friendly delights, an ensemble of delectable junk food.

On the 4th and final row, she found what she needed; seeds.  She picked up a variety of packets of seeds, holding the small packets between her fingers. Blueberry, Raspberries, and strawberries—She was missing one thing

She nestled her hands into the cozy refuge of her coat pocket, avidly searching for that elusive neon yellow sticky note. Days of inadequate slumber had exacted their toll, leaving her mental acuity adrift in a sea of drowsiness, a constant companion to her weary mind.

The yellow paper must have slipped out somewhere. 

As she turned to retrace her steps, her gaze fell upon a figure standing a few feet away. Dressed in a dark hoodie that seemed to swallow his form, he was an enigmatic presence amidst the mundane shopping atmosphere. His face was partially concealed by a dark yellow hood, casting intriguing shadows upon his features.

She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should approach him. But something compelled her to step forward, her curiosity overpowering any apprehension she might have felt. With a nervous yet determined smile, she approached the figure.

"’scuse me," she began, her voice tentative but polite with a southern accent slipping through her lips. "I seem to have dropped something, and was wonderin if you happened to see a yellow sticky note?"

He turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers through the darkness of the hood. His gaze was intense, as if trying to unravel the secrets hidden behind her words. Without a word, he bent down and picked up the stray yellow sticky note from the floor, holding it out to her.

Relief washed over her as she accepted the note, feeling a strange connection form in that brief exchange. "Thank you lots," she said, her gratitude evident in her voice. "I wouldve been lost without this."

As she looked up to thank him, her eyes widened in surprise. The hood that had previously obscured his face had fallen back, revealing his features in full. His brown hair was unkempt, falling across his forehead in a disheveled manner, matching the roughness of his beard. There was a weariness etched into his face, as if he carried the weight of a world unseen.

His eyes, though tired, possessed an unmistakable glimmer of something deep and complex. They held a mix of vulnerability and strength, as if he had seen things that most could never comprehend. The lines around his eyes spoke of experiences that had left their mark, making him seem older than his years.

He was quite handsome, [Y/N] thought.

A ghost of a smile played upon his lips as he nodded in response to her thanks, acknowledging her gratitude. “Ain't no trouble.," he replied, his voice a low rumble that held a hint of grave and southern twang. "Happy to lend a hand."

Silence hung in the air for a moment, as if both of them were caught in a suspended moment, each waiting for the other to break the spell. It seemed like the man found himself unable to tear his gaze away. 

‘Dude, fucking break eye contact, this is getting weird’, She thought as an awkward frown formed on her face.

Her eyes flickered to the red gallon he held in his hand, the word gasoline emblazoned across it. Questions formed in her mind, but she hesitated, deciding against asking him directly. There was an unspoken understanding that some things were better left unsaid.

Instead, she mustered a smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, thanks again," she said, her voice warm with sincerity. "It was nice of ya to help me out."

His lips curled into a slightly deeper smile, a tooth gap evident, a hint of something genuine breaking through his stoic demeanor. "No worries," he replied, his voice tinged with a quiet appreciation, before going back to looking at the seeds. 

The way his lips curled into a grin, sent shivers down the curve of her spine. Though his smile, expansive and brimming with teeth, held a peculiar detachment within the depths of his eyes, a dissonance that left her unsettled. His lips, etched into a smile, never reached his eyes. Like an emotionless facaque. He had something of a crooked grin, skewed in its authenticity, that just didn't seem right Deep within her core, an unsettling awareness resonated, silently cautioning her about the man before her. Still, an irresistible force tugged at her very being, pulling her closer to his presence.

She glanced down at her yellow sticky note for the last item, only for the blue writing to be smudged. 

“Fuck.”

The man couldn’t help but notice the frustration on her face as she stared at the yellow sticky note in her hand. The item she had written on it was smudged, rendering it illegible. He cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between them in the garden aisle at the back of the store.

"Hey again,  uh... , 'scuse me for interrupting but aah couldn't help but notice yer frustration. Do you still need a hand?" The man had asked, his voice gentle and concerned.

Startled by his sudden address, she looked up, her eyes meeting his. She blinked a few times, trying to regain her composure. "Oh, hey. uh... i was just trying to remember what i needed to buy," she stammered, a hint of embarrassment displayed on her face. 

He nodded, understanding the struggle of forgetfulness. His gaze fell upon a rack of seed packets nearby. "Well, if yer open to suggestions, there's this type of berry seed that might do the trick.  They're strong and grow plenty. Might just be what ya searchin for.”

She hummed, her eyes widening as she turned her attention to the seed packets he indicated. She scanned them, reading the descriptions and imagining the bountiful berries that could grow from them. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Imma give em’ a try," [Y/N] replied, grateful for the suggestion,"Thank you."

He reached out, plucked a seed packet from the rack, and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed briefly, a fleeting connection that sent a shiver down her spine. She accepted the packet, feeling the weight of the possibilities it held.

"Yer welcome," He had said with a genuine smile that still didn't reach his eyes. "Aah sure hope they bring you a fruitful harvest." he laughs.

As she held the seed packet in her hand, she couldn't help but be struck by a sudden curiosity. "Do you gotta a garden?" [Y/N] laughed, “You sure seemed to know lots bout’ plants and whatnot.”

His smile faltered slightly, and he glanced away for a moment. "Well, I used to have one," he replied softly. "But things shifted ‘round, and aah had to leave it behind… but ah’m fixin’ to start a new’un.” He drawled out with a smile. 

Understanding flickered in her eyes, and she nodded in sympathy. Sometimes life forces people to leave behind things they hold dear. It reminded her of something, but she just couldnt put her finger on it. Before she could delve further into the subject, his phone buzzed loudly, interrupting their conversation.

He fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. A serious expression settled on his face as he answered the call. His voice was barely audible, and he moved away from her, creating a physical distance between them.

She watched him, a mixture of caution and curiosity mingling within her. His hushed conversation gave away little, leaving her to wonder about the nature of the call. 

As the call ended, He turned back to face her, his eyes filled with a mixture of apology and urgency. He didn't say a word but mouthed a goodbye, his hand waving gently in farewell. Without another word, he swiftly made his way out of the garden aisle, leaving her standing there, holding the seed packet in her hand.

“I wish i would’ve at least gotten his name.” [Y/N] hummed, rubbing the packet in her hand. She really hopes that the man was right about this seed packet.

She read the packet again, more carefully. The packet read Boysenberry. A cross between  a raspberry, blackberry, dewberry, and loganberry. She could make this work. The picture showed something like a blackberry , yet it was enlongated and a deep red, almost black color. The description read that when freshly picked, it tasted like a sweet blueberry with a tangy aftertaste. 

[Y/N] grabbed a few more more things: 2 bags of fertilizer, Top Soil, and Green gloves

She sighed, walking towards the front desk, flashing a soft smile towards the cashier, Ranae Reeds, she recalled. The woman’s name tag was worn around the edges, with her name partially faded. Much like the name tag, Ranae was a little worn around the edges. With her gray roots, her deep smile lines told tales of a younger, happier her.  

Ranae Reeds delicately placed her magazine, adorned with the captivating headline, "Infamous Serial Killer, Jeffery Woods caught," on the polished surface before her. [Y/N]’s eyes beheld the image of a man whose countenance bore the unmistakable evidence of two hauntingly deep gashes etched into his cheeks, and a profound sensation seized her being. The spectacle unfolded before her like an eerie tableau—an unsettling tableau that seemed to suspend the very breath in her throat. Its sheer grotesqueness sent tremors coursing through her, causing the hairs on the nape of her neck to rise in response.

Ranae cashier merely looked at the younger girl, almost with sympathy.

The cashier took the seed packets with a shaky hand, her golden bracelet jingling  as she scanned the packets of seeds with a ding of the scanner, “I ain’t neva seen ya round’ before.” Ranae spoke with assertiveness and confidence, surprisingly, as her stature was rather petite and she seemed to be soft-spoken. But that was in fact not the case.

[Y/N] was taken aback by her sudden curiosity, she blinked and said, “I just got ere’ this morning, moved in today.” She rocked back and forth on her toes and heels, eagerly wanting to leave already.

Ranae looked at her up and down with a bored expression on her face and asked, “Where yer from girl?” Her lips never moved from the straight line that almost seemed to be formed. Her freckled hands grabbed the fertilizer as she scraped the bag of pellets across the scanner, never taking her eyes off of  [Y/N].

DING. 

“Oh, aah’m from Kansas. Born n’ raised.” [Y/N] didn't have a Southern dialect—well, not anymore. It only slips out on occasion, particularly when talking to someone else with a southern twang. Her momma and daddy always had a thick southern voice, as they were both from Texas and moved to Kansas. 

Kansasans don’t exactly have an accent, besides not pronouncing the “R” in words. Yet, they got a way of speaking that you can clearly tell their from somewhere in the West.  If you went south, close to the Oklahoma border, the accent would get thicker as you went. 

Ranae hummed, almost like she had something to say, yet she bit her tongue. She scanned the items slowly, like she was purposely taking her time.

[Y/N] shook her leg rapidly, impatience growing within her as she watched Ranae struggle to bag the items in a brown paper bag. 

DING.

“My PawPaw and MawMaw died recently, so I inherited their cabin down by Grand Lake,” She said in attempt to fill the silence that annoyed her so much, in hope to pass the time. [Y/N] has always been rather extroverted, starting conversations with strangers she didn't mind, it was this silence that ate at her. The silence was bugs crawling underneath her skin, like roaches gnawing at her veins as they swam in her blood. 

Ranae merely hummed again, scanning an item, completely uninterested in the  conversation at hand, letting silence fall over the conversation once more. The silence was only broken by tapping of [Y/N]’s leather boots, which were worn out and needed replacement. 

“A man named Willard Tucker used to live there—“

DING.

“Ya best be careful round that house,” Ranae suddenly spoke up, her brown eyes boring into the girls, a serious expression took over her features,“There been rumors bout’ some folks down by those parts doing god knows what.” The woman's veiny hands wandered through the bag of fertilizer in search of the bar code.

[Y/N] stiffened at her sudden demeanor. “I see,” She watched intensively as Ranae scanned the last item before bagging it into a brown bag and pushing it towards [Y/N].  

Y/N smiles, “I’Il be sure to be careful—“

“And ya best be careful round that man that was in ere’ earlier. Aah’ve seen him do some suspicious things with those little friends of his.” Ranae cut her off once again, except her loud and apprehensive nature was no more; instead, it was quiet, and she was talking merely above a whisper. 

“He’s up to no good, girl.” Ranae’s eyes once again, bore into [Y/N]’s with a sense of urgency and protection. Ranae reminded [Y/N] of her mother, Jane. From the way, she spoke with a protectiveness of a mother to her veiny freckled hands that trembled constantly. 

DING.

[Y/N] hummed, taking the brown bags underneath her arms hastily, “I will don't worry.” She reassured Ranae with a tight-lipped smile, before pushing through the door that opened with a groan.

The smell of summer once again hit her, and she inhaled the sweet, tangy air. It was humid as well, the weather was hot and sticky. [Y/N] was used to it from being on a farm for all of her life, yet she never really enjoyed it. Her dad, Steve, enjoyed the heat, he loved it. He would always drag her out of the house when it was well into the 90’s.

She really misses her dad.

[Y/N] threw the brown bags in the tail bed of her 1995 Ford 150. She slid into the plush fabric of her seat, shutting the car door behind her as she slumped against the leather steering wheel. 

“Why in the hell is it so damn hot?” 

She peeled herself off of the steering wheel, her head heavy as drowsiness took over. partly from the lack of sleep, and the warm sun that scattered it’s light against her face.

She shoves the old, almost rusty, key into the ignition, turning it to start the car. The car sputtered, before failing to start. [Y/N] sighed, before trying again, turning the key in the ignition. Yet again, it groaned and sputtered with a metallic scratching noise that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. 

It was an old truck, a gift for her 16th birthday. Painted a dark red that rusted around its silver rims, the truck was a relic, almost like a family heirloom that her family passed down from one generation to the next. It was frequent that the truck wouldn't start, constantly breaking down from a plethora of problems. It wasn't just one problem with the truck, but everything. The engine, the ground cables, the filter, overheating-- the truck almost had every problem in the book.

“I swear to fucking god,” She turns it for the third time, Please, god, start.” She pleaded as the engine sputtered once more, before roaring to life with fever. 

[Y/N] slumped her head on her steering wheel once more and said, “Thank you,” She kissed the leather steering wheel, thankful that the universe had answered her pleas. 

With the roar of the engine [Y/N] peeled out of the small parking lot of the Grocery Store.

Within the forgotten garden, an eerie silence lingered, broken only by the faint rustle of weeds that thrived unchecked. Like rebellious tendrils, the vibrant greens stretched beyond the confines of the patch of tilled earth, entwining their wiry strands with the blades of grass and any unsuspecting object within reach. Mushrooms and fungi covered the garden like a blanket, growing in mass abundance. This unruly congregation of vegetation and fungi seemed to possess a will of its own, reclaiming its dominion over a forsaken realm. Amongst the overgrown foliage, unseen insects and arachnids sought refuge, their presence betrayed only by an occasional scuttle or a shimmer of silken threads. Camouflaged amidst the verdant chaos, they patiently awaited their next unsuspecting prey, ready to seize upon any who ventured too close. 

As the sun descended in the western sky, its golden rays extended through the dense foliage of towering oak trees, painting a mesmerizing tapestry of light and shadow. The ethereal dance of illumination and obscurity enveloped the scene, amplifying the eeriness that permeated the air. The songs of robins and mourning doves serenaded the somber landscape, their delicate melodies contrasting with the ominous backdrop. Amidst the rustling leaves and trilling birds, She heard the distant grunt of a white-tailed deer. And as the final rays of sunlight retreated beyond the horizon, they bathed the discovery in a soft, eerie glow, accentuating the unsettling sight before the witness's eyes.

[Y/N] glanced at her phone, which glowed an illuminating white. She looked at the white numbers that read: 6:00 PM.  

She stretched her limps as they  ached from hours of being hunched over digging to completely remove the wild grass and herbs that grew. Her arms gave a satisfying crack, just as her back did in response. She had napped for a satisfying 7 hours,only waking a few times. [Y/N] was suprised that she was able to nap in general. She was content and fully recharged. On the downside, she probably won’t be able to get any rest tonight. 

At least she'll be able to stay awake binging Netflix.

With a determined grip, she thrust her green gloves into the yielding earth, their fabric sinking into the damp soil as she uprooted the herbs with a swift, purposeful tug. As she pulled, the tips of her gloves absorbed the essence of the earth, their vibrant hue now tainted by the stubborn remnants of the earth's bounty. The once-pristine fingers of her gloves were adorned with a telltale shade of brown, evidence of their close association with the soil. And beneath the surface, her nails bore the weight of the garden's secrets, caked with a fine layer of dirt that clung tenaciously to the thin, porous material. 

[Y/N]’s mind wandered as she aimlessly dug through the soil, ripping the herbs from their roots like tendrils. Until her hands gripped something that squished beneath her fingers.

She gazed down, her eyes widening in pure horror, as a gut-wrenching sight unfolded before her. In her trembling hands, a writhing mass of maggots squirmed with repulsive vigor, their pale bodies contorting and intertwining in an unsettling dance. The pungent stench of decay wafted through the air, assaulting her senses and threatening to overpower her resolve. As her grip tightened involuntarily, the soft flesh of the larvae ruptured, smearing her trembling hands with a sickening mixture of viscera and fluids. The once-innocent soil beneath her feet became a graveyard for crushed worms, their slimy remnants mingling with her fingers, an unholy stain that marked her as both witness and participant in this grotesque scene. 

[Y/N] let out a blood churdling scream as she stumbled backwards from her squatting position, landing on her backside. She frantically swiped her hands together to get the maggots off as they fell into the grass beside her. 

The squirming maggots, now a grotesque spectacle in the dew-kissed grass, seemed to writhe in agony. Their once pale, plump bodies were now stained crimson, their delicate flesh bearing the gruesome evidence of their fallen brethren.  Each wriggling creature fought desperately, their tiny frames flayed violently as they were torn away from their decaying feast. The gore of destruction painted the once vibrant green blades of grass a haunting shade of red.

“What the actual fuck?” 

Laying where [Y/N]’s gloved hand dug, was a mound of dirt that maggots swarmed, their white skin hiding beneath the dirt.

[Y/N]’s curiosity peaked exponentially as she moved closer to the mound, dirt staining her knees brown. Her gloves dug through the maggots filled mound, her stomach filling with uneasiness as they glided through the soil.

Suddenly, her hands struck a soft, pudgy, material. [Y/N] dug through the dirt to fully uncover the mound, and as maggots crawled anxiously around her hands, she recoiled in disgust. She was sure it must be a dead animal, and the land must have grown around it, right? 

[Y/N] knew the stench of death, and didn't partially mind the sight of dead animals. Her father, Steve, was a frequent hunter of deer and other game, to which [Y/N] accompanied him. Steve had taught her from a young age how to field dress a deer. Hanging the deer up by its hooves to a tree, she remembers taking her father's hunting knife and running it down the belly of the animal-- very gently to not puncture the belly. Scooping the contents of the deer out, leaving the inside of the deer completely bare. That was the easy part. Now to field dress the deer, was a tedious and lengthy process, using the tip of her knife to slowly peel the hide off of the animal. Hours would pass in the blistering Kansas heat and wind. It was revolting, yet she grew accustomed to the sight.

For her 13th birthday, she was gifted an old 22. rifle from Steve—an old gun that needed to constantly be cleaned and scoped in. The bullets weren’t made for large game such as deer, but they did work on prairie dogs that plagued cow farmers' fields. Eventually, she got a .300 WIN MAG, which now sat below her bed.

She had guessed the rotting carcass of an anwinsle from the potent smell wafting through the air. An unmistakable and haunting odor tainted the air, suffusing every inhalation with a chilling foreboding. It was the stench of death, a macabre orchestra composed of decaying flesh and the ghostly remnants of blood.  

As she slowly uncovered the mound, it became more and more apparent what the mound was. Her hands swiped away the last layer of dirt and maggots to reveal the form underneath the soil. 

[Y/N]’s features contorted with sheer terror again, the lines of his face etched deep with despair. The pallor of her skin turned with goosebumps, a stark contrast to the clammy beads of perspiration that clung to her furrowed brow. Eyes wide, they became twin portals to the void, reflecting the depths of her fear—paralyzed.

A corpse, abandoned to the earth, lies in a state of advanced decomposition. Its once vibrant form is now a haunting testament to the inevitability of mortality. The body, stripped of life, is a pillar of grotesque transformations. The flesh has given way to a grotesque canvas, with patches of decomposed tissue revealing glimpses of bone beneath. The skin, mottled and discolored, hangs loosely, tattered and ravaged by relentless decay. Time etched deep crevices into the once-familiar countenance, obscuring any resemblance to the person it once was. Swarms of maggots and other scavengers feast upon the remains, their writhing presence further amplifying the scene's repulsive nature. 

 Bile crawled up through [Y/N]’s as she doubled over, vomiting into the grass next to her. Food chunks and liquid sprayed the green grass a vomit brown. A tremor coursed through her trembling frame, betraying her tenuous grasp on composure. It was in this harrowing moment that horror unfurled its chilling wings, casting an indelible veil upon her face—a blanket of anguish. The very air seemed to quiver in the presence of such raw, unadulterated fear, as if nature itself recoiled in silent reverence for the intensity of her terror. 

She had torn off her gloves as she scrambled across the grass, grabbing her phone, in an attempt to distance herself as much as possible from the corpse. Her surroundings seemed to spin as the drum of her heart overtook her hearing as well as the sound of the dial tone. When did she call 911?

“This is 911, what’s your emergency?” A woman's voice came from the other side of the phone. Calm, and tender, her voice was comforting. Yet her voice was almost muffled as [Y/N]'s heartbeat filled her eardrums.

“I," [Y/N]'s breath was shaky, quiet as she spoke with a sense of urgency, "Would like to report a dead body."

tag, @rat-briccs-trauma, @strawberrie-fluff, @spookyravioli @darkovergrownforestnymph, @urmomisaqt420 @yipeeesstuff

.@qupiikaaa @fynnwolff

How You Turn My World; Chapter 1

Your day started with chaos, and my dear, it looks like it will continue to be chaos. But only time will tell. The Underground holds many surprises in store for you.

Characters; Grim, Lilia Vanrouge, Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola

Content; Gender-neutral reader, cat shenanigans, building the plot

Content Warnings; Swearing, illusion to marijuana but there is none

Word Count; 4.6 K

Chapter 1 | more chapters to be determined

Don't put my work into AI; I'll make sure you go to the Underground and don't return. Mwah mwah, kisses~

Ah, the joys of cat parenthood. Days spent cuddling your little bundle of furry joy. That’s what your friends preached. That having a feline roommate was easy and rewarding. That you would benefit by having a cute and fuzzy companion that didn’t demand much of anything. That you would love your little kitty friend like a child. Well, either your friends were liars with questionable senses of humour, or you drew the short stick when it came to choosing a furry companion. And there’s always the possibility of it being both, what with having Ace as a friend and all, but you just hoped it was just your shit luck and not that you had shit friends.

Seriously, though, what higher power did you manage to piss off to deserve the royal hobgoblin of a cat you have? He has shit and pissed in your plants on several occasions. Demolished every single curtain he laid eyes on like he had a personal vendetta against them. Stole your breakfast off your plate right as you were about to take a bite. Puked on your last pair of good white shoes, which still had stains on them because they wouldn’t come out. The cherry on top of it all though was that he insists on yowling and crying in the middle of the damn night for no good reason. Rudely awaking you from the dead of sleep because he demanded attention. With how loud he was, you were surprised that you hadn’t gotten a noise complaint from any of your neighbours… yet. But then again, you could hear the upstairs neighbours’ children screaming bloody murder every so often — what were their names, the Clovers? They were probably so used to it that they threw you a bone, or they didn’t want extra grey hairs from filing a complaint to the landlord. So maybe Grim wasn’t all that bad, but he was still a gremlin child. 

“MROWWWWWW!!!!!” Ah, so tonight was no different then. Grim had decided that you needed to be woken up before even the birds started to sing, needed to be yanked out of the land of dreams. That whatever had caught the attention of his singular brain cell was more important than you recharging so you don’t accidentally say the wrong thing to your boss. Since last time you had slipped up and called him dad, even though no one in their right mind would leave him alone with a rutabaga unattended, and he went on a two-hour long monologue about how much of a kind and generous person he was for you to see him as a father figure. And your salary wasn’t high enough, nor would it ever be, to deal with his eccentric and maddening behaviour.

Maybe, just maybe, if you ignored him and stared at the ceiling long enough he would stop his caterwauling and go to sleep. “MROWWWW!!!!!” Apparently not.

Just one night, ONE NIGHT, of peace and quiet. PLEASE. But you knew that if you didn’t get up soon, he would get up on the bed and put his fluffy butt in your face… like he did last night and the night before that. Sighing, you begrudgingly got out of your cocoon of warm, fluffy, blankets, and hoped you would soon be back in them after dealing with Grim. Hopefully, he was just complaining about his food bowl not being as full as he would like it.

What was the time anyways? Three-thirty in the morning? Ugh, Grim! What did Ace say about it, ah, yes, “Primetime witching hour. Demons and all sorts of creepies” yada yada yada. But you didn’t pay any mind to him, as his annoying smug look would taunt you in your mind even though he was probably sound asleep, blissfully asleep. Something that you wanted to be doing, but woefully you were not.

Stepping out into the main living space, you shot the grey fuzzball the stink eye. “What the hell do you want? You absolute gremlin!” You hissed through gritted teeth, very much annoyed with your brat of a fur child and wanting nothing more than to crawl back to bed, hell, even the loveseat would suffice.  

The offending feline just trilled at you in response, and his tail vibrated, happy that you had come out to see him. How is he so cute but so annoying? He rubbed against your legs before trotting off to one of his hidey holes, which also served as his nest of your stolen socks. He has a weird obsession with socks. But he popped back out, holding something in his mouth. Something small and fuzzy that didn’t look like any of his toys.

“Prowwww,” he dropped it at your feet as if saying that catching whatever it was, was the equivalent to paying his share of rent. Which, it was very much not.

You closed your eyes and pinched your brow. Please be one of his toys. PLEASE be one of his toys. You chanted to yourself in your mind and then opened your eyes. Unfortunately, it was not one of his toys. The small, fuzzy thing in question seemed to be a mouse or some other kind of rodent. It was too late (too early?) for this, and quite frankly you didn’t have the brain power to confirm whatever the hell it was. All you knew was that it looked like a mouse, therefore it was a mouse.

“Is this what you’ve been screaming about this whole time? A mouse,” you sighed. Shaking your head, you went to the bathroom, grabbing some paper towel so you could at least put it outside for something else to eat, or go back to nature in some other way. It was better than just being left to decompose in the communal garbage bin. When you came back out though, it was nowhere to be seen. Now, either Grim decided to eat it like a good kitty cat, or, with your luck, it was still alive and was now running amuck in your apartment.

Grim’s chattering was coming from the kitchen now, and he was up on top of the fridge. It was running amuck in your apartment, how lovely.

“Why, why, are you like this?! Get down from there!” You really didn’t have the energy for this.

Grim just blinked at you before his eyes dilated. He leapt down from his perch on the fridge and was pawing at a corner by the window. Looking down and you couldn’t make out anything on the floor. But you had the oh-so-brilliant idea to look up toward the ceiling. The ‘mouse’ was very much alive, and wasn’t a mouse at all, since it was flying around and banging itself against the corner.

“YOU CAUGHT A FUCKING BAT?!”

He had indeed caught a fucking bat. And bats were normally fine, when they were outside. Not when they’re flying around your apartment at three o’clock in the morning and your cat is losing his goddamn mind trying to catch it. So no, this was very much not fine. 

The bat was about as pleased as you were with this whole situation and kept on flinging itself against the glass of the window, desperately trying to get back outside. How the hell did it get inside in the first place? That could be pondered on upon at a later time, as the first priority was getting it back outside.

“Don’t fly towards my head, bat. I’m just trying to get you back outside. You’re a nice bat, right? Nice bat, nice bat,” you whispered in a non-threatening tone. Could the flying mammal understand what you were saying? Mostly likely not. Hopefully it understood that you, unlike your cat, were trying to help and did not want some fresh bat as your late night snack tonight.

After what felt like forever fuddling with the window to open with a broom in hand, just in case the bat decided to dive bomb your head, you finally got the cursed thing open. 

Grabbing Grim, who was still trying to catch the bat for a second time tonight, you got back to your bedroom and locked the door shut. You hoped that the bat would take the hint that it now had a path to freedom, but only time, and a bit of sleep, would tell. Slumping against the door frame, you sighed and looked over at Grim. He was playing with the door stop, the boing, boingg, boinggg sounds filling in the quiet. Whether it was to amuse himself, or to annoy you was a fifty-fifty bet.

Just as you were about to crawl back under the covers a string of anxiety connected in your head. Shit, did Grim get bit? DAMMIT GRIM! After leaving a somewhat desperate and tired call to your vet’s voicemail, alongside an apology for the late call (early call?), you peeked outside to see if the bat was still flying around. According to Google, the bat should be tested for rabies. You did not trust your no brain cell having fluff ball to know better than to get bit by a possibly rabid bat. But it was gone, so yet again, you were out of luck.

You had enough with today, even though it had just really begun. Pulling up the covers, you sighed in the dark warmth of your blanket cocoon. Grim was busying himself by trying to pounce on your feet, but you ignored him, falling back to sleep and hoping that the rest of your day wouldn’t bring any more shenanigans, migraines, or small flying mammals.

…

…

…

By some miracle, you managed to get Grim to the vet the very same day. Your boss agreed to let you work from home because he is ever so kind and generous… It did help that one of the other higher-ups nearly nagged off his ear upon hearing about the condition of your cat. Even through the phone you could hear it, and could only imagine the spectacle it must have been. Oh well, you had the day off and that is what mattered… but you would be lying if you said that you didn’t cough out a laugh just imagining the scene on the other side of the phone.

You were relieved, Grim on the other hand was not having it. To be fair, you did trick him into his crate with some tuna. He made his disdain known to all though by crying the entire way there. You almost felt bad for him, almost being the key word. 

“You have no one to blame for this but yourself, ya know.” You huffed at him, feeling your shit sleep all too well. “Crying about it won’t help you any.”

Grim let out a pathetic little mew. His little, bright, blue eyes being the only visible part of him, which peered out miserably from the crate. Caving to the kitty manipulation, you poked your finger in as a peace offering. Grim booped his nose to your finger and then proceeded to nibble on it; such a vicious beast.

The vet visit went as well as you could hope it could, as Grim only tried to maim the vet a few times. Hey, it was an improvement from last time, as he had actually peed on them. So yes, trying to maim was vastly better than seeing your figurative child pee on the doctor. You’re pretty sure your vet didn’t go through years of schooling and thousands of dollars into debt just to get peed on by your unruly cat. But Grim was won over by the offering of that cat gogurt, his nose and stomach betraying him. Note to self, stock up on some of that stuff.

The rest of the visit went on without a hitch; he had some blood drawn, got his booster shot for rabies, and even managed to squeeze in a bonus nail trim. There was no evidence of any bite or puncture marks, so Grim by some miracle, did indeed have enough brain cells not to get bit.

“Grim will have to be watched for about forty-five days,” the vet hummed, checking Grim’s chart. “Since you don’t have any other animals it shouldn’t be too difficult to keep him in quarantine. If you see any symptoms be sure to bring him back, just in case.” They gave you a tired smile, and then turned that smile towards their cantankerous patient. “And thank you for deciding not to pee on me this time, Grim. I’m not so bad, see?”

Grim swatted at them, which was his answer to the vet’s question. In Grim’s book, the vet was that bad.

Ignoring his attitude, as you would whenever you came across a screaming toddler and exhausted parent while doing your grocery run, you turned back to your vet. “Thank you, and sorry for Grim. If it makes you feel any better, he’s just as much as a gremlin child at home as well.” At least today went better than last time.

The vet chuckled goodheartedly, “Don’t worry about it, I have more unruly patients than little Grim here.”

Damn, they have seen some shit, haven’t they? … Maybe I should, I don’t know, bring them a gift basket next time I’m in? Or maybe a gift card for a spa day or something??? You should really get them something for the amount of dry cleaning they probably needed to do.

With the visit over, and Grim having a clear bill of health, you shoved him back into his carrier with zero decorum, closing the door as fast as possible before he could escape and try to hide behind the counter like he did last time. I know your tricks, cat. Speaking of bills, the one that was waiting for you at the front desk was enough for you to point an icy glare at your unruly ward.

“You’re lucky that I love you, asshole.” And much like the vet you too got a swat as your thank you. Wonder if this is what the Clovers feel about their children? At least their kids didn’t wake them up in the middle of the night with a bat they caught… You shook your head, moving past those thoughts, and hauled your wailing cat back home.

…

...

By the time you got back to your place, it was just a little past noon. The rest of your day was wide open, and you didn’t really have anything else to do, since taking Grim to the vet was the most urgent of your tasks. Your place could benefit from some tidying, since your boss had recently been demanding more as of late and has been even less useful than he usually was… which was saying something. Seriously, how does he have his position? It was baffling. You swore you could hear his monologue playing on loop in your head whenever you thought of the man, which you tried to keep to a minimum for your own sanity… whatever little of it still remained that is.

Shaking your head to rid the annoying voice, you put on your favourite playlist and got to work. You took your time, putting away the dishes, vacuumed the main room, and even got rid of the dust on the high shelves. But your place was small, so it didn’t take very long for you to tidy up, and deep cleaning could wait for another day when you had enough energy to mentally and physically deal with that undertaking.

You knew that your email probably had a few messages, but it could wait. You weren’t on the clock and therefore didn’t have to check it. Only do the stuff you’re required to do when you get paid, it makes your downtime way more enjoyable.

But, you were bored. The cleaning helped with it, but with the majority of it done and the more intense stuff waiting for another day, you had nothing else to do. And while doom scrolling through social media may fill in the time, it too, was boring, predictable.

… There were two people though who were the exact opposite of boring and predictable. And yes, they did give you your fair share of migraines and questioning your life decisions more than you usually do, they were your best friends. And you were in need of having a movie night with them.

Opening up the group chat, you typed in a message.

| The Responsible One | You guys down for a movie night at my place tonight?

And almost immediately, Ace replied.

| Ginger, derogatory | depends  | ya got fiid?

Deuce responded shortly after.

| Mama’s Boi | Yeah, I’m down | What time? | . . . | And what’s fiid?

|The Responsible One | How does 6 sound?

| Ginger, derogatory | IT WAS A TYOP | *TYPO | I MEANT FOOD | F O O D

| Mama’s Boi | 6 works for me

| The Responsible One | I took a screenshot of that btw love you Ace | Thanks Deuce for actually giving me an answer. | What FIID do you guys want?

| Ginger, derogatory | FUCK YOU | … but yeah 6 works 4 me | any is cool with me

| The Responsible One | Yes yes, fuck you too Ace | Bring your own snacks it is then | See you guys at 6!

That gave you about ninety minutes to hide your good snacks, since the last time, Ace had made himself too comfortable and ate all your fancy treats that you paid way too much for. But like they say, you deserve to ‘treat yoself’ … Ace still owed you for those snacks though. They were fucking expensive, prick.

…

Ninety minutes didn’t take very long, but you managed to hide some of the mess that you hadn’t tackled in your bedroom; it could stand to wait. And the first of your dork friends arrived right on time, count on Deuce trying to be punctual… even if he was panting like he had run a marathon to make it.

“You know,” you sighed, “you didn’t have to sprint here.” You grabbed a glass, filled it with some ice water, and handed it over to your flushed and heaving friend. Please don’t pass out on me. “It’s not a race.”

Deuce took the glass and downed it, still catching his breath. He lifted up the tote bag he was carrying, “Mom made brownies.” A series of coughs escaped him, but he gave you a bashful smile and showed off the multiple Tupperware containers filled to the brim with still warm chocolatey divineness. “Didn’t want them to get cold! Oh! She also made extra for you too!”

He is such a sweetheart… but he’s also pretty dense at times, still a sweetie though. You could have just warmed them back up in the microwave — yes, they weren’t the same as fresh from the oven, but still — you didn’t have the heart to tell Deuce that though. He looked so proud that he made it on time and that the brownies were still warm. What did you do to deserve Deuce as a friend? 

“Also,” he fished around the tote bag, “I brought extra popcorn, since we ate all of yours last time.” And he pulled out an unopened bag of popcorn, the bashful smile turning bright.

Deuce took a step forward, but stopped and backpedalled, taking off his shoes. After he set them neatly by the door, he made his way to the kitchen, and set all of his assorted belongings on the meagre counter space. Once he unloaded the tasty cargo, he made his way over to your loveseat, which had seen better days, and sat down, getting comfortable.

He was looking at you, and there was a little crease in between his eyebrows. Deuce only wore that look when he was worried. “Are you feeling okay? You seem a bit… off.” 

You gave him a tired smile, “Meh. Tired, stressed, not enough money. You know, the usual.” You noticed that his frown was only deepening, so you took a seat next to him and patted his shoulder. “Seriously, Deuce, I’m okay. Plus you got enough on your own plate without worrying about me. I’m going to be fine.”

Deuce pursed his lips, but let out a long sigh, accepting your answer without much fuss. You were capable of dealing with whatever it was, he knew that. You were one of the most capable, and stubborn, people that he knew. You would be fine in the end. “Whose turn is it to pick the movie this time?” He asked, stretching out, trying not to bump into you.

“Hmm, your turn actually,” you hummed. “But–”

Bzz! Bzzz! BZZZ! Someone was buzzing your door, repeatedly pushing at the button. Only one person you know did that. BZZZZZZZZ! And he wouldn’t let up until you answered the door.

Groaning, you got out of your spot and peaked through the peephole. On the other side was none other than Ace, who’s leg was bouncing and he kept on pushing your damn buzzer.

You only opened the door when he decided to lean on it, making him almost fall… almost. Maybe next time would be the day where you would see him eat dirt. “Happy you could join us on this lovely evening,” you drawl, doing a little bow.

Ace rolled his eyes at you, “Seriously? Feeling petty tonight I see.” He too took off his shoes, since the last time he wore them in and tracked in mud from outside, you made him clean it up. He learned his lesson that day, and really didn’t feel like cleaning your floor again.

You smiled at him, “Yeah, yeah I am~” You dropped the smile and went back to your comfy spot beside Deuce. “Also,” you turned around right as Ace was about to plunder your fridge. You glared at him, and he backed off, giving you a sheepish look. “Don’t even think about stealing my food, there’s popcorn and you have food at your home. Unless you want to start paying for my groceries, stick to what’s on the counter.”

Closing the fridge, Ace busied himself by making himself some popcorn, and sneaking a brownie or two in his mouth as he waited for the microwave to finish making his treat. While he was busy in the kitchen, you and Deuce were slowly going through the seemingly endless catalogue of movies. 

“What are we even watching tonight? There’s no special occasion,” Ace mused, sitting on the counter, swinging his legs back and forth. “Action? Horror? Sci-fi? Perhaps,” he paused and made a kissy face, “romance?~”

You stared at him, until he dropped the kissy face. “Never do that again,” you deadpanned, turning back to the screen. “Found something?”

Deuce was hovering over a title, Labyrinth. “Can we watch this? Mom said it was one of her favourites when she was a kid.”

Ace plopped into the armchair, and started chowing down on his fresh popcorn. “Dude, your mom probs just had the hots for, uhhh, Jared? Or whatever his name is.”

You threw a pillow at him, but missed unfortunately, and Ace flipped you off. “First off, Ace, his name is Jareth not Jared. And yeah, we can watch it,” you said, stretching back and getting into prime comfortable blob position. Oh yeah, you weren’t getting back up. 

Once Deuce got up and brought some snacks back in, you started the movie. And damn, these brownies are divine. You really needed to ask Ms. Spade for her recipe. The popcorn was decent, overall meh, but the brownies! THE BROWNIES!!!

You all settled down after being rationed your snacks, and you pressed play. Ace and Deuce both nearly choked on popcorn when Jareth appeared.

“WHY ARE HIS PANTS SO TIGHT?!” They both choked in unison. 

You just rolled your eyes and ignored them, trying to focus on the movie. Other than you nearly having to do the Heimlich manoeuvre on the both of them, the movie continued without incident, until a certain gremlin decided to start crying right as Magic Dance began playing. Seriously Grim, must you choose the most inopportune time to act like Toby does in the movie? But that’s life with a cat.

You paused the movie and looked at Deuce. You were in prime comfortable blob mode, you weren’t getting up. Deuce patted you on the shoulder and went to go see what on Earth Grim was screaming about. Ace just continued to scarf back brownies, thank goodness you hid some away before he got here, or else you wouldn’t have any come tomorrow.

But Deuce came running back out of your room, since that was where Grim was. And you were about to question why he looked like he’d just seen a ghost when something blurred right past him; something small, fuzzy, and flying.

The damn bat is back?! Yeah, you definitely felt like you were cursed.

Now, you could either get up and deal with the bat, since Deuce was just trying to shoo it outside the window with a mop and Ace was screaming much like Grim was, or you could stay warm and comfy and hide under the blanket, pretending that this wasn’t your waking reality…

Option B was really tempting right now, to be honest. Sighing, you got up, massaged your temples to collect yourself, before arming yourself with a broom yet again. Grim has his rabies vaccine, you don’t, so you weren’t taking any chances.

“WHY IS THERE A BAT IN YOUR APARTMENT?!” Ace hissed, ducking as the bat swooped near him.

You opened the window right open, almost threatening to take it off its bearings, “Because the universe hates me, that’s why!” Was it dramatic? Yes. Did it contain a seed of truth? Yes. So that’s what you went with. Was it really an exaggeration though? In the past twenty-four hours it really felt like the universe was sending you a personal ‘Fuck You ♡ ' letter with a kiss mark on the envelope.

You and Deuce tried to work together as a team to coax the bat outside. Come on, the window is wide open. Come on bat, get your fuzzy ass out of my place. 

All that was happening though, was some scene that belonged in a Three Stooges act. With Ace and Grim screeching — yes they counted as one collective unit — Deuce trying his best, but not getting anywhere, and you feeling like you were about to explode from the stress and noise. Even on an impromptu day off, you didn’t get a break, not really.

Getting whisked away by the Goblin King is looking real appealing right now. The bat swooped down close to you, and your instincts kicked in and you swung at it, making it crash land into your coffee table, right into the popcorn. And alongside the popcorn getting spilled everywhere, there was also a poof of green sparkles.

When the green sparkles subsided, there was a strange person with long black hair and red streaks, wearing something that looked straight out of a Ren Faire, and he was standing on your table. The strange man looked straight at you, and you looked back, blinking fast. Did Ms. Spade give us a different kind of brownie? Or is this actually happening?

He snapped his fingers, and you watched as he slowly disappeared into another poof of green sparkles. You were backing up, since hey there was a stranger in your place out of nowhere, but thanks to your shit luck, you tripped over your own feet, tumbling into them. And as the green poof subsided, both you, and the stranger, were nowhere to be seen. Leaving a very confused Ace, Deuce, and Grim to wonder what the hell happened to you.

And honestly? You were thinking the same. Where the FUCK am I?!

...

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...

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Tags; @busycloudy, @eynnwwyjth, @identity-theft-101, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @ryker-writes, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

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Author's Note; And I'm finally showing this to the world, after months of collecting dust in my Google Docs. I have no idea how long this fic will go on for, and the length may be dictated by how much feedback and interaction this gets, so yeah. General rating for this is Teen but might change in the future; I won't tag people if that happens though, cuz, yeah.

If you enjoyed this story, and want to read more of my stuff while I slowly work on more installments to this fic, check out my masterlist! Please ignore any spelling mistakes, I write and die with no beta.

Imagine getting isekai’ed into otome game as a background character, watching the main character going down routes as you live your peaceful, mundane life, but you’ve unknowingly been going down a route as well, a route for a hidden character that you didn’t discover during your time playing the game.

That character being the reason the game has a dark content warning.

Gosh anon, that idea is so good!!!! I didn't know it would tickle all the right places in my brain, but when I started I couldn't stop lol. Love it, thank you for sending it in ♥

If this had one of these super long titles that are tmi it would be:

I got Isekai'ed into an Otome Game as a Background Character and now I Have to Finish It with the Secret Yandere Love Interest!!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««     

A serene smile spread over your lips as you watched the two lovebirds in the corner of your coffee shop.

Swirling the milk into a cup, it created a little white heart surrounded by foamy coffee, its aroma drifting into your nose. Had someone told you that the little things like a cup of coffee made with love and care were enough to give you the peace of mind you always wanted in your previous life, you would have laughed at them. For you, it had always been the hustle, the making money, finding a partner, and creating a family. Make everyone proud while being successful, whether it costs you nights of sleep or days without proper meals. But looking at yourself now, it all seemed so far away now, and you let out a content sigh before setting down the cup in front of the customer at the bar. 

"You seem happy today," your regular at the counter noted, picking up the cup and taking a moment to appreciate the aroma just like you had. A smile sneaked onto their lips, too, after they took a sip, and you couldn't help but feel your heart swell with pride and happiness when they gave you a satisfied nod. 

"I am! I'm really getting accustomed to my new life here, it's... been a while since I've been so content."

The truth behind everything that happened to you was something you couldn't speak about lightly. Not when it turned the life you knew upside down, leaving you to start over completely. One day you were an employee of a well-known company, responsible for sales and reports and everything stressful. And the next, you were in your favorite, cozy video game, running the coffee shop the main character liked to visit with all the romance options in the game.

Isekai was the genre that came to mind when you thought about your situation. Luckily you were spared the memories of your death in the real world, the circumstances blurry as you barely remembered going home late from work, only to wake up in this very different universe. Perhaps you were just comatose, and this was a dream. Still, by now, you had managed to slip into your role as the barista of the small coffee shop, a barely mentioned background character, just fine.

Your eyes jumped back to the couple in the corner, giggling and teasing each other over a group project, and you felt an immense relief you weren't reincarnated as the main protagonist and had to go through the years of studying and trying to establish connections with the love interests again. You already did that in your old life, and it wasn't as romantic and fun as the game made it out to be. You only played it because it got your mind off things, the art was pretty, and it had the exact amount of cozy time management you needed to relax. But living as the main character in it? No, thank you!

"Jealous?" your regular teased, and you chuckled, shaking your head. They tapped their—now empty—cup, and you took it from them, replacing it with some water until you had the next cup of coffee ready for them.

"I just think it's cute. I never had someone so interested in me they'd take me out for coffee and share their cake with me when I was younger."

Your words tasted a little bitter on your tongue. Still, you genuinely couldn't wish for anything but the main character's happiness. It was just the feeling of being loved, desired, and wanted that you missed, even though your new life was more than satisfactory despite you feeling a little lonely sometimes.

"Well, it's never too late to start," they chuckled, taking up their fork and cutting off the tip of their strawberry shortcake, including the big chunk of strawberry on top, picking it up and holding it out towards you. 

"Oh, I wouldn't dare--"

"I insist! As thanks for the amazing coffee every time I come here."

Nudging your lips with their fork, you let out an awkward chuckle. It was okay, right? They wouldn't sue you for eating the cake they paid for, would they? This was just a silly little game. What could go wrong with you accepting their kindness?

Opening your lips, you let them feed you the cake, taking a moment to let the sweet and fruity notes mix with the fluffy whip cream before you were sent straight to heaven. Not to toot your own horn, but your baking skills had improved so much since you started working at the shop. Who knew you had that in you?

Occupied with the moment of bliss as you let the cake flavor mix in your mouth, you hummed happily before devoting yourself back to making the coffee with a smile on your face. Unaware of your regular fixating on the fork you had just eaten from, staring at it like it was some strange artifact. Your phone dinged softly in its drawer, and you checked it briefly to see the notification pinging up, saying, "Achievement unlocked: Cake-Master - Provide the most delicious cake to your customers."

"Excuse me!" the main character called out to you, stepping up to the counter, and you directed your attention to her, ignoring the little game notification you've been receiving since starting your new life here, the love interest not far away before the two began fighting over who was going to pay the bill this time lovingly. Of course, the love interest won, but you wouldn't have expected it any other way. Seeing the blush on the main character's face after her romance option told her he'd "always take care" of her made you grin like a little fan, and you cheered them on in your head. 

By the time you returned to your regular, their knuckles had gone white with how hard they were gripping the fork in their hand, their eyes following the couple who was about to leave. For a moment, it made you wonder if they had a crush on either of them, their sweet interaction surely uncomfortable if that was the case. But you didn't remember there being a jealousy scene in the game. You'd know, almost playing it 100% before your death. There apparently was a secret route you never got but were trying your hardest to achieve. Now you were left to wonder what it entailed.

But the second you returned, they looked up at you, expression softening and the tension disappearing, and you chalked it up to having witnessed a cringe moment that they had gotten so awkward. "Thank you for the cake, that was really nice of you! Do you want another fork?" you asked and were met with a headshake and a smile. 

They quickly began eating their cake and complimenting your baking skills, stroking your growing ego when they rubbed their belly. 

"I never had a cake that good!" they proclaimed, and you laughed out loud, overjoyed that you had made them so happy. 

"Say..." they suddenly spoke up again, leaning on the counter and watching you with gentle eyes. Your heart set out for a second, tension rising as you didn't know what they were going to ask. Ever since you opened the coffee shop, the main character, love interests, and this regular had come by constantly. If you were honest, you enjoyed their visits more and more. Their presence felt like it belonged here with you, and you were a part of something bigger after all, washing away the small, lonely part of you. 

And maybe... just maybe... this was how your happy end would play out.

"Are you this nice to every customer?"

Halting your movements, you set aside the brew head that you used on the espresso machine, despite having to clean it, thinking about your answer for a moment. It was a strange question to ask someone who worked in customer service. Still, you appreciated your regular, so you didn't want to give them a snarky answer.

"Uhm, well, I am just trying to make everyone feel welcome! But of course, it's a bit different with my regulars! After all, they come here often, like a second family. So I guess I'm a bit nicer because you really get to know and appreciate these people that stay to chat and tell stories."

"I see," they muttered. "Family, huh..."

After that, you suddenly were swamped with sudden orders, excusing yourself to fulfill them, chatting and laughing with even the people that were just passing by. Maybe you really were just nice? Perhaps this new environment had made you more relaxed and gentle than the harsh world you lived in, and it was showing? But their question was shoved into the back of your mind as you kept fulfilling orders and earning your keep.

Once the rush was over, you returned to your regular, only to find their seat empty. Strange, you thought. You could have sworn that you felt their eyes on you the whole time you were away, but luckily, they didn't walk out on their tab, leaving the money and a folded-up napkin beneath their empty cup for you to find. You quickly stored away the bills, trusting your regular with knowing what they had to pay after so many weeks of the same order.

You were about to throw away their napkin when you noticed some red marks on them, unwrapping the paper to find a note scribbled in what you had to assume was ink. 

"You're so beautiful when you laugh."

The surprise wore off quite fast, and you smiled, thinking nothing of it but that it was a nice compliment from your regular. Still, you ended up throwing the napkin away—not knowing if it was dirty, after all—taking the coffee cup and plate to the sink to clean them, overseeing the red tip on the fork that was too dark to be from the strawberry.

The rest of your day was uneventful, and by the time you were closing, you were tired and ready to tug in for the night, wrapping up your business at the shop quickly before walking home. You didn't have a chance to look at your phone since you glanced at the achievement notification, so you took it out, startled when you saw a dozen new messages. 

Achievement unlocked: Happy new life - Be content with your new life

Achievement unlocked: A fork for two! - Share a fork with someone special

Achievement unlocked: Jealousy - Make someone special jealous

Achievement unlocked: Soothing - Calm someone special down with your presence

Achievement unlocked: Family - Have someone be moved by your words

Achievement unlocked: The nicest person in town - Be beloved by all, but especially by someone special

Achievement unlocked: Blood in the cup - Have someone hurt themselves at your coffee shop

Achievement unlocked: Wonder-Barista - Complete twenty orders in less than thirty minutes

Achievement unlocked: Strange compliment - Receive a compliment through unusual means

Achievement unlocked: Blooming infatuation - Have someone special fall in love with you

Achievement unlocked: Shop-Pro! - Close the shop twenty times after making a profit from your work

Achievement unlocked: Tired - Hard workers deserve to relax

You blinked a few times, surprised by what you were reading and a little weirded out by some of these achievements. They gave you some extra coins in your shop till and reputation with the townspeople, so you usually didn't mind them. But to say some of their descriptions were weird was an understatement. You couldn't even remember someone getting hurt at your workplace that day.

By the time you reached your apartment, you decided to ignore the strange notifications and just let the day come to an end with a hot bath and your favorite show. But you were startled when your phone suddenly began ringing loudly, even though you had turned off the sound back at the coffee shop after the first notification. The first messages that appeared before you were more achievements, and you stopped turning the key in your door as you read them.

Achievement unlocked: Follower - Have someone special follow you home

Achievement unlocked: Welcome home! - Arrive at home, not alone

Achievement unlocked: Wherever you go, I'll be watching you - Ɨ ΔΜ ΔŁŴΔ¥Ş ŴΔŦĆĦƗŇǤ ¥ØỮ

Lifting your head, you looked around you, glancing over your shoulder and into the courtyard below. No one was out; everyone was at home eating dinner and occupied with their lives. Confused, you swiped all the notifications away before another pop-up appeared.

ALERT! You're about to enter X's route. Do you want to continue?

> Yes > No

Panicked at this point, you pressed "No," but nothing happened. You kept tapping it repeatedly, not understanding what was happening with your phone. But nothing changed, the notification staying in place. The sound of something breaking inside your apartment tore your focus away from your phone, startling you. 

You must have finally managed to close it, the pop-up disappearing just as you unlocked the door to your apartment, still having held on to the key when you were surprised by the sound. Darkness and silence greeted you from inside, everything seemingly normal.

Majorly confused, you shook your head, slowly entering the hallway leading inside. "Hello?" you called out, reaching for the light switch. The light flickered on, and... there was no one. Holding your breath, no sound reached your ears, and you groaned, realizing you got freaked out about... nothing. 

This wasn't some kind of horror game, and the story never had a murder-solving subplot. True, the ratings for it were kind of strange—it being rated as 18+ on the website—but seriously, what should happen in a cozy little city like the one the game played in? You didn't even think they had a police station here.

Pushing off your shoes as you shrugged off the weird feeling from before, you walked up the hallway to your living room, turning on the light before coming to an abrupt halt. There were broken pieces of glass underneath your living room window, but what really freaked you out came into view only when you lifted your head. You could look into the mirror of your cabinet door from your position, red marker dripping from it as if someone had hastily scribbled on it just seconds ago. You weren't sure it was a pen anymore, judging by its deep red color and the fluidity of it.

"𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺"

Your phone pinged.

Achievement unlocked: 

On the Highway to Hell - Unlock the secret route

.⋆｡𖦹 °˖ avatar .⋆｡𖦹 °˖

༄ breath of venus ༄

in the back of my mind in the back of my mind

you died

i killed you

and i didn’t even cry

and i didn’t even regret it

no not a single tear

i can’t believe i said it

series playlist | #—botticelli blues ⋆｡˚

summary ~ a girl born from nothing has spent her entire life trying to be everything her family and her clan needs her to be. but what happens when old ghosts take her as hostage?

Venus is discovered as a baby by Grace Augustine and later adopted by the Sully family following the war. her instincts will be challenged when Eywa gives her a sign that all is not what it seems when it comes to her reborn captors.

this is a Recombinant story that will attempt a redemption arc. it includes my oc. this is my first time writing a fan fic so please be kind!!!

the series ~

chapter zero ~ prologue

chapter 0.5 ~ happiness is simple

chapter one ~ tswal tsmuk

chapter two ~ taken

chapter three ~ you’re mine? / i was never yours

chapter four ~ eywa’s will

chapter five ~ fight or flight

interlude ~ sins of the father

extra ~

playlists

experimental chapter dialogue - you are dismissed

any drabbles or random thoughts will be under #—botticelli blues ⋆｡˚

Lil extra after the photo was taken

The Socorro-Quaritch family photo ft the three ( stooges ) Deja Blue members and a lil sad sketch

hiccup and snotlout brothers energy

i went a bit all out for this one but i love the prompt sm THEY ARE SO SIBLING CODED

shout out to @jacks-ace for the inspiration for this

(sorry y’all im super tired today ill be continuing the asks tomorrow 😭❤️)