Apr 17
When you're innocently trying to make small talk, but the resident says things like 'no cap' and calls you a boomer:
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When you're innocently trying to make small talk, but the resident says things like 'no cap' and calls you a boomer:
It'll be our little secret. Do you promise? I promise and I'd never break a promise.
From Masterlist
This is my From Masterlist, if you want the main one, click the link below and if you want to request something also see the link below. All my works are either, fluff and/or angsty. No Smut. Request are open! For the sake of writing fanfic Ellis and Fatima won't be together. Unless requested.
Main masterlist
Please let me know if any of the links don't work
Ellis Stevens
One step: One step p2
Ellis helps reader adjust to life
Kenny Liu
Small talk:
Kenny and reader have a nice talk
Fatima Hassan/Stevens
Coming soon
Randall Kirkland
Coming soon
Jade Herrera
Smarts:
Jade is baffled by reader's need to keep up with studies.
A wedding long overdue
This idea popped into my head spontaneously and I somehow managed to write it out within a day. Help. (I feel like my writing style keeps changing too—)
Anyway—
(Platonic) Old Lady Creature and Female Reader
(Former husband) Cowboy Creature x Female Reader
It's got some destiny flavor. A lot of dream flavor. And Old Lady Creature being manipulative :)
Wordcount: 5.269
Potential triggers: Something close to grooming. Coercive themes.
I hope y'all enjoy!
Ever since you were a kid, you dreamt of your forest.
It was your forest, because you were the only one there. The puddles were yours to jump in, the worms were yours to carry around at the tip of a stick, the leaves were yours to gather in a pile and roll around in.
No one scolded you for getting dirt on your clothes. There were no exasperated calls of your name. No one shrieked when you brought an insect with you. Just you and the endless forest that served as a nightly playground.
The only plus, according to your parents, was that you never fussed about bedtime. Why should you when you could play some more as you slept?
As a child, you didn’t think it strange you kept dreaming the same dream. That you had full control over yourself and your clothes were always the same—white, loose and unable to get dirty forever.
Because every night, the dream reset.
The same starting point in the middle of the forest, a small hill protruding beneath you. The same, strangely proper outfit that made you feel like you were going to those posh parties you saw on tv. Heck, even the leaves appeared in the exact pattern as the dreams before.
It remained that way for a long time. But one day you ventured further, choosing to explore beyond the small bubble you found yourself in.
Why, you couldn’t properly remember. Just that you wanted more, something new and exciting.
And then you found you weren’t as alone as originally believed.
You hummed brokenly beneath your breath, panting as you bounded over the ground.
You followed a small spider. Or, rather, a pretty big spider by most people's standards, but still tiny compared to you. Its black, bulbous body raced under fallen leaves and over snapped twigs.
A giggle escaped you, your short legs hurrying to chase after the oddity in your dream.
Never did it occur that the arachnid was dangerous. This was your dream, your forest. There was no danger.
Still, a sense of unease made your feet falter when they stepped on sticky, white webbing.
Your eyes finally rose from the spider and up. And up. All the way, until your head craned to take in the nearly glowing tree. You squinted, wondering why it glinted so brightly in the sun. But as you blinked the glare away, you saw.
Webbing. It covered the whole tree. The white nearly shone because of the light.
And suddenly, within the next blink, the tree lost its color. The forest lost its hues. And tiny legs chittered all around.
Young as you were, you didn’t understand anymore that it was just a dream as terror raced in your veins. Now, simply a nightmare, spiders came dropping from the branches above, others crawling from webbing below, out of tiny burrows.
A high-pitched wail burst from you as they began running those little legs over you. Their black bodies stark against your white clothes. You swatted at them, desperate to remove them. But there were too many. So, so many.
And then it hurt. Fangs bit down on your hands.
Stumbling back, you toppled down, feet kicking, hands swatting.
Then they suddenly froze. You didn’t notice, still crying with tears turning everything into a blur.
A growl came from behind, something getting closer. And it wasn’t trying to be quiet about it.
The spiders ran just as quickly as they had come, hurrying back into holes and up the tree.
You curled up, quivering and sobbing. Your hands had no marks, but pain still echoed subdermally.
Scared, when the thing chasing the spiders away neared. What could frighten them so much that they fled? What could make such a strange, garbled snarl?
Your mind had conjured up a hairy beast with a maw of sharp teeth and red, glowing eyes.
You pressed your eyes shut at the image, tears leaking from them when a shadow reached for you.
“Oh, sweet child,” a warm, wavery whisper said. “Are you hurt?” The shadow revealed itself to only be a hand. A wrinkly old lady's hand.
Forcing your eyes open, you met the kindly eyes of an elderly woman. Wrapped around her head was a shawl, grey hair peaking from beneath.
Instead of answering, you could only stare. You had never seen anyone in your dreams before. Just like how it had never been night before either.
“Who are you?” you asked between sniffles.
She smiled at you. “Well, I’m your grandma of course. Who else could I be?”
You frowned, thinking hard. “I never had a grandma before.” A gasp left you then, and you scrambled to get up. You took a few steps away from her, ignoring her ‘I’m a grandma of many’.
"Are you a wolf?”
She had to be. She growled and the spiders ran from her. It was like the story mom read to you. With Red Riding Hood.
She chuckled. “No, dear child, but I know these woods and the calls of it.” She leaned forward, eyes widening pointedly like she was about to share a secret. “I know what scares them. I only pretend.”
You tilted your head. “Pretend?”
“Yes, it’s a dream. You can always pretend.”
“Can I… pretend to be a wolf too?”
The smile that graced her lips then, twisted at your gut. Just a little, but not enough.
God, if only it had been enough.
“You can, little one. If you try hard enough.”
Needless to say, grandma made your nightly adventures only more exciting. The next few dreams, you couldn’t find her however. You searched far and wide, but she wasn’t there. Finding the spiders again was too scary, but you remembered one small detail.
It had been dark. And she said to pretend. So, sitting on the hill you started on, you concentrated real hard, clenching your eyes shut and scrunching your face.
And your quest was rewarded quickly with a soft chuckle. “My, aren’t we focused.”
Opening your eyes, you saw her standing just down the small hill. And it had become dark. You had been right!
“You’re back!” You hopped up.
Her lips curled gently. “I never left, dear child.”
Slowly, your beaming smile faltered. “You can’t leave?”
She shook her head.
“But aren’t you alone?” you asked, feeling upset for the elderly woman.
“No,” she shook her head again. “I’m not alone.”
“Then where are the others?”
She tilted her head, watching you uncomfortably long. “You aren’t ready to meet them yet.”
Confused, you crossed your arms petulantly. “Why not?”
She looked at you apologetically and you knew she wouldn’t say.
“Come, let’s go to the lake. I hear there might be ducklings sleeping there,” she said, turning to walk away.
It was one of many encounters with the elderly woman. She was a great listener you found. Willing to listen to childish ramblings when you were just a kid. And not even blinking when you came with stories about high school as you grew older.
She asked about classes, about your friends and even if you had become interested in boys your age.
“Ew, grandma, why would you ask that?”
Moreover, why should you even answer that to any adult? Or whatever she was. She never aged while your body grew more awkward during puberty. You tried to spot if there was even a single new wrinkle on her face, but no. There wasn’t. And just like yours, her clothes never changed.
Well, yours grew with you, but still. That didn’t count.
What mattered was she never changed. Thus far, she never gave a direct answer as to why that was. And despite what your parents may say, you didn’t think she was a fragment of your imagination anymore. She felt too real for that. All this did.
“Because the lake froze, little one,” she said quietly, stopping in her trek to turn your way. Concern etched into her face. “Someone hurt your heart.”
You ducked your head, hoping your fringe hid your expression from her. Not that it mattered with grandma. She always knew no matter what. “What does it matter,” you muttered. “Everyone says it’s just a stupid crush anyway.”
Her hand gently enfolded your shoulder. “Life doesn’t flourish in a frozen lake. That matters.” She kneeled beside you, lowering herself more to your height. “Sometimes I think I can’t tend to this forest on my own.”
“I’m not a forest,” you snapped. Trees creaked as they always did when you were upset.
Grandma looked around the shivering leaves, unbothered by the outburst. “No,” she said at last, “but the forest knows you. It calls when you call.”
Entwined is what she had explained years ago. But in what way, she didn’t relay.
“You can’t hide your heart here, dear child,” she had said.
“He called me ugly,” you mumbled, cheeks flushing as your insides stormed with too many feelings to give a name to.
You refused her attempts to make eye contact.
Even now, years later, you still sometimes expected her to sigh at your stubbornness. Maybe in exasperation like your teachers or parents. She never did. Grandma never sighed or yawned or coughed like other old people did.
She tutted softly, knuckles brushing your cheek. “There’s more forms of beauty than humans understand. That this boy only looked and judged based on flesh alone, speaks of his unworthiness.”
You frowned down at her, trees stilling as if they too quirked a brow at her. “What?”
Her ways with words were… odd at times. Even if they didn't exactly bring comfort, they made you forget the hurt out of sheer befuddlement for a second.
A small smile graced her face. “Ah, the lake is thawing. Good. Such words should never take root.”
She straightened, expression blanking. “But it’s time to go now. You’re waking up.”
“But I don’t want to—”
-——————————————————————-
“Go away,” you said to the elderly woman, stomping between ruffling bushes and over a quaking, unstable ground.
Something that didn’t seem to deter grandma. Her gait wasn’t slowed in any way.
“Child,” she tried, but you kept your gaze forward. When she tried a second time you spun to face the calm woman.
“You lied to me,” you snapped. “You said I’m almost ready, but you said that years ago as well!”
She remained quiet for a long, long moment. Then, she chuckled, shaking her head. And for a second, she truly appeared alive. Human. You couldn't quite point out what was so different compared to other times. Just that she appeared more real.
“Oh, how I forget the impatience of children sometimes.”
“I’m sixteen now,” you grumbled, crossing your arms.
“Yes,” she simply said. She reached a bony hand forward from where she kept it behind her back. “It’s why I got you a surprise.”
In her hand was the most out of place thing you’d ever seen. A hat. More specifically, a cowboy hat. It was a light color, a black band snaring around it.
“Look what’s inside.”
Clenching your fists, you almost denied her request. But a fragrance hit your nose. Sweet, floral. Peeking inside the hat revealed the source of the soft scent.
Flowers.
You don’t remember ever seeing flowers in your forest. They were lush and colorful. Pinks and reds and yellows.
“It’s a gift,” grandma whispered, a strange glint in her eyes.
The trees bowed lightly to listen. “From who?" you asked, feeling… strange. Sweaty without actually sweating.
She didn’t answer. Only kept her arm unwaveringly towards you.
“I… shouldn’t accept gifts from strangers,” you mumbled as an excuse, still unsure why your gut churned so badly.
A slight frown twisted her brows together. “Are you sure? He’d be sad to hear.”
You shuffled in place. “Why is it never day anymore?” you blurted out without meaning to. The words hadn’t even been on your conscious mind. It spilled purely from your gut.
“Day?” grandma mused like you said something strange, lips quirked in her signature smile. Soft and small. “It’s never been day. You sleep at night.”
“Oh… Right.” But you swore the sun used to shine. Hadn’t there been something bright before?
“You can always accept later,” she said gently, returning to the topic you wanted to avoid. She lowered her arm. “Go and rest, child. Next week you have exams?”
“Uh, yeah.” Your temples began hurting. A sick, coiling sensation spinning in your head. Had you told her about your exam week? You had to have. It was such a big, stressful thing after all.
“Then you best prepare, sweet child.” Her voice turned tinny as you swayed, vision creeping black around the edges. “It would be such a shame if time slipped away.”
-——————————————————————-
Grandma didn't present the hat again the next time. Or the dream after. Even as years went by, as adulthood crept in, the hat remained a faded memory. You hadn’t forgotten however. Something wouldn't let you. A nagging feeling that gnawed and gnawed like rot eating foundations away.
Maybe it was because grandma became more absent.
“We have new arrivals again,” she said in explanation. “I won’t always be here anymore.”
“New arrivals? Where do you all go then?”
A smirk of sorts lifted the corner of her lips. “You won’t have to worry about that just yet.”
Even so, with her absence, other things began to fill the void. A guitar sat at the starting point of your dreams now, leaned against a tree. It was an old thing, but clearly well taken care of. The wood was worn, but smooth. Snares spun proudly around shiny tuners.
Trailing your eyes over the strings, the urge to pluck at them tried to urge you towards it again. Just to test the sound. But you didn't touch it. Even as your fingers twitched.
Maybe it was your incessant need to understand these dreams, but you had searched for answers. Nothing truly satisfying came from it, but people online spoke of things like fairies and debts. Contracts and trickery. It seemed closest to what you were experiencing.
You didn't feel anything malignant from grandma though, but you’d rather not trigger some kind of event or debt by accepting anything by accident if she was some type of fae.
And perhaps that’s why you simply couldn't forget. Because of the guitar that you swore strummed on its own sometimes. The fire you heard popping, but never saw. Only smoke sometimes wafted through the forest, that floral scent carried with it instead of burning wood.
There was another scent more often however. A sharp, iron-like stench that was hard to ignore.
You could only ask yourself where it came from. And every time you did, the trees appeared to part. A path paved through them invitingly. The stench curled from between the branches, making your nose scrunch and mouth dry.
But that same gut feeling stayed your hand. Running into the unknown had led to something bad before. Who knew, this could lead to even worse things.
You fidgeted with the hem of your dress. It was just… becoming lonely up on your small hill. Grandma hadn’t been visiting for days, going into weeks. Time was different for her, you knew, but yours was excruciatingly slow in sleep now.
And you itched for more. Something novel.
It was out there, the path towards it wide open.
Standing up, lacking the usual popping bones like in waking hours, you stared down the path and the dark pit beyond.
Maybe if you pretended, nothing could hurt you out there. You snorted at the childish reassurance. But you still tucked it in your heart as you started down the hill, into the path.
And then you walked for seemingly an eternity. The scenery didn’t change—trees with thick foliage, the moon barely able to peer through them, stars peeking in sparingly. Tree roots protruded from the ground, but none in your way.
Eventually, your eyes took in small changes. Items scattered at the edges of the path, placed against or below trees. Some were small. A child’s shoe, stiff with age. A cracked chesspiece—a queen, small chips missing from the stone. A white ribbon, tied neatly around a low branch, its end frayed as if worried between fingers.
It felt arranged strangely enough.
Your steps slowed without you meaning them to. The iron scent was stronger here, sharp enough to sting the back of your throat. Still, the forest remained quiet.
“Grandma?” you called, then winced at how small your voice sounded.
The trees shifted in response, the path… not changing per se, but rearranging towards a different destination. You assumed towards the woman you called for.
Your heart drummed beneath your skin. The iron stench had become worse as the trees changed direction. Unease settled over your shoulders, making you fidget in place. You looked behind and—
Your eyes widened. The path back was gone.
Spinning on your heel, you rushed over to the trees now blocking the way to your hill. But as you attempted to pass through them, they curled tighter, branches entwining to block and nudge you back.
“Shit,” you hissed. Your pulse spiked, hot and sudden, like something injected straight into your veins. You tried to breach the trees again, only for them to twist in the way once more.
Pressing your hands to the gnarly branches, you tried to force your way past them, fingers prying at where they knotted together.
But they wouldn’t give.
You swallowed, palms slightly raw from the rough bark. Turning to the path ahead, you wondered if you had pushed too far. Stuck your nose where it shouldn’t be.
Only one sensible solution remained.
Staying in place until you woke up.
Sliding down against the thick wood behind you, you tried to still your racing mind.
Grandma hadn’t ever told you not to stray too far. Only that some things, once found, didn’t like being left again.
The tree tops swayed lightly above, whining with high-pitched creaks.
Or… skidding?
When you glanced up to check, you gasped. Crows, uncountable in number, sat like gargoyles amongst the higher branches. They had spontaneously appeared. As if to watch your descent down the path.
You stood up, feeling their gazes burn into you. Their attention settled like physical weight on your heart.
Your throat bobbed again. “Grandma?” you called for the woman in vain, keeping your eyes on the black feathered birds.
Dread dug its claws in your chest, hairs standing on end. Noise began breaking through the forest. Muttering, fluttering wings, tires screeching.
“What’s happening,” you whispered, standing up cautiously. Your forest wasn’t responding to you anymore. It was behaving against you. Like it was influenced by another.
The crows faded, as if they were smoke clouds struck by the wind. Rumbling came from below and you stumbled in place, arms darting out to steady yourself.
“Grandma! Where are you?” You felt like you were four again, beating spiders before they could reach your skin.
Except now the threat came from the actual trees. Roots burst from the ground, making you scream.
Your legs fell away, body crashing into the thick roots as they snapped and rolled, dirt falling in chunks from them. Pain bloomed in your side.
You scrambled for purchase, hands finding only dirt covered roots, soil falling into your eyes and over your pristine clothes. Your palms slammed against them as they curled around you, swallowing what little light still shone through the forest above.
“No! help,” you cried. “Grandma, help!”
From the cracks still not covered by wood, you saw the path rushing past you, the roots carrying you forward.
You could only hold on as wind soared in your ears. The scent of rot and iron rusted into your nostrils.
Pressing your eyes shut, you felt tears streak down your face.
A scream tore through the loud howl of wind, something metallic crashing and groaning.
Darkness folded over your vision, blinking your mind out. And for the first time, you didn't wake yourself out of it.
-——————————————————————-
A groan tumbled from your mouth. Your head pounded like your brain wanted to split your skull apart.
Something jostled against your side.
You pried your eyes open and squinted as something trickled in your eyes. Water. Rain. Your clothes and hair stuck to your skin. Beneath it all, that sharp stench still lingered, fueling your disorientation.
“Hey, she’s awake,” a masculine voice said far too close to your ear. “Guys, she’s awake!”
Sound rushed back. A loud commotion rattled all around you. A small group of people, rushing through a plain towards a large mansion, its gentle light streaked by the heavy rainfall.
Someone carried you, arms wrapped under your back and shoulders. You stared at him with furrowed brows, not recognising the young man.
“We’ve got you. Just stay with me, alright?” he said, his olive skin taut with stress.
You tried to move, but muscles had yet to reconnect with your brain. Help? With what? Why were they running? What happened?
Weren’t you dozing in a car with your friend?
You head lolled, trying to catch sight of her amongst the group. Her blonde head of hair was nowhere to be found. “Where is she?” you tried to croak out, but your voice barely worked. The man only said some more vaguely placating words.
As the group neared the mansion, their panic loud and vivid, another man accidentally dropped the guy he was half carrying.
The one holding you was called back to help. “I’m going to set you down, okay?” he said to you, already lowering you to your feet in his haste. You could barely stand, legs like jelly beneath you.
But like a sheep, you followed the bleating of the herd, trying to go towards the mansion’s porch.
“Child?”
You froze.
Craning your neck, you saw her. The same shawl. Same dark jacket and handbag.
“Grandma?” you whispered hoarsely, blinking water from your eyes as if to see her better. Were you still dreaming then?
There was concern on her face. “You need to get away from those people,” she said, walking your way, unblinking like the rain didn’t hinder her.
Alarm bells rang in your head then, recalling the confusion and fear on the other woman’s and a girl’s face in the group. Why was a group of men herding you all around? Who was the wounded man? Where was your friend?
If she wasn’t here, maybe this really wasn’t real. Maybe the tree roots cast you out somewhere else.
“Come.” Her tone turned hushed, familiar in that warm way. “I’ll protect you.”
And instinct made you stumble her way, even as desperate shouts rushed after you. A hand tried to latch onto you, but you dodged it.
Another hand clasped yours instead, bony and thin and startlingly warm despite the cold rain pouring over it. You met grandma’s eyes, seeing that strange glint in them. "Good, child, we must go now.”
She tugged you after her. You were still confused and brokered down with that splitting headache. “Where to?”
“Home,” was all she said, giving you a mysterious smile. Relief flooded you. She must be speaking of your hill.
You allowed her to guide you away from the group, still yelling, but tampered by something that sounded like befuddlement. Not that it mattered, you peered behind and watched them burst indoors.
Except for another group of people standing on the porch. A young guy saw you looking and gave a small wave.
“Who are they?” you whispered to the elderly woman.
“Not yours,” she said pleasantly. “Others, though, others are.”
Without understanding why, your throat tightened up. “I’m… ready to meet them now?” you continued cautiously, a shiver rolling down your spine. In what way were these others yours? As in, part of your forest? The one with the hat maybe.
“Yes.” It was said flatly, as if it had been long overdue. Your pulse soared in response.
The iron hold on your hand seemed too stable somehow. There was no quiver like people normally tend to have. That, you’ve learned, was normal for her though. She was definitely not human.
She led you into a forest. A very familiar one. The scents were almost identical to your woods. The trees had that same still energy to them.
But… it didn’t act like it knew you.
Everything was quiet and unmoving. The oddities belonging to a dream weren't there to dilute the fear you were sure should’ve been part of your dreams.
Only grandma was an oddity now. She shouldn't exist outside the dreams. You tried to tug your hand back, but she didn’t seem to notice.
Looking down, you realised your clothes were wrong too. They were just your regular clothes. And you were cold under the barrage of rain. You were never cold or warm in the dreams.
So you were well and truly awake.
You tugged harder.
“What’s wrong, sweet child?” she asked without turning your way. “You don’t have to be scared anymore.”
“Let me go, grandma.”
Grandma stopped.
It was abrupt enough that you nearly walked into her back. Rain slid down the shawl at her shoulders, soaking in.
She looked at your joined hands then. Slowly. As if she’d forgotten you were attached at all.
“Oh,” she cooed softly. “You noticed.”
Her fingers tightened—not painfully, just enough to remind you that letting go was no longer entirely up to you.
“You’re awake now,” she continued almost fondly. “Yes. It was always going to happen one day.”
Your hand shook beneath hers and her grin widened. She finally turned to face you fully.
Up close, there was something off about her face. Not distorted, but… thinner. Skin stretched too tightly over bone structure. Over something patient and inhuman.
“You tricked me,” you whispered hoarsely. “You said I could pretend. That it was never day.”
“Tricked? No.” She shook her head, something dark flashing in her eyes. “You searched and you found.”
Your friend… you had to find her. She had to be out there. Maybe she was hurt.
“Let me—” you cut off.
Behind her, deeper in the forest, something shifted.
Not the trees, those remained still. It was subtler than that. A sound slipping through the rain.
A single guitar string, plucked once.
Your breath hitched before you could stop it.
Grandma smiled wider at that, pleased. Proud. She reached up and brushed wet hair back from your face, thumb lingering at your temple in a way that might have once been comforting.
“Don’t be unkind,” she murmured. “You’ve known him longer than you remember.”
Your heart began to hammer. “Who?”
The music stopped as if waiting for that very question. A soft thud followed, as if something was settled down.
Rain continued to pelt the land, pushing past leaves to drop on your head.
Footsteps sounded from deeper in the forest.
Not rushed in anyway. But not exactly patient either.
Each step landed solidly against the wet earth, unbothered by roots or mud. They came from the direction of the music.
Grandma’s warm grip loosened, the woman backing away.
You barely noticed, captivated by the figure slowly emerging from between the trees. You watched even as your mind screamed not to, fearful that once you saw, something irreversible would take place.
But that was impossible.
Nothing about this place could actually be real.
“There you are,” the figure said, coming to stand a little ways from you, his voice light. Amused even. A hint of something more knowing and hungry beneath that knotted in your belly like tight rope. “You took your time, darling.”
You looked behind, but grandma merely stood a few feet away, watching with a static smile.
You gulped, turning back to the man.
He stood there like he belonged in the forest. Strange when his outfit implied he belonged somewhere else entirely. A place with bulls and cows, fences placed to keep them in place.
A cowboy hat sat low on his head, its brim shadowing his eyes. His western-style shirt had accumulated water to the point it stuck to his body. Yet, unlike you, he seemed completely unbothered by it, not even a single shiver rolling over his relaxed shoulders.
His hands hooked into his belt in a way that made you flustered, his hips slightly tilted to the side.
Calm, relaxed and strangely familiar. Not the outfit exactly, although, you recognised the hat with heart stopping clarity—but the line of his jaw, the set of his shoulders.
“Mine?” you murmured.
His lips softened in a smaller smile. A hand reached to his hat, removing it and placing it over his chest.
It revealed his eyes and suddenly, like a bone snapping, whatever charm beheld you shattered. A deep shadow haunted those pits, contrasted by this sharp, possessive glint.
You took an instinctive step back, sweat beading beneath wet clothes.
Your name slipped from his lips, drawling and too intimate. Too knowing. “What’s wrong?” Hearing your name from him made your skin prickle, heat blooming where fear should have been strongest.
“How do you know my name?”
He took a swaying step forward, that simple motion swallowing up more space than physically possible.
His head tilted, slicked-back hair darkening by the drizzle. “Somewhere deep inside you know why, sweetheart.”
His other hand dipped in his pocket and emerged holding something impossible delicate.
Pressed flowers.
Pink. Red. Yellow.
Blood drained from your face.
“Remember them?” he asked, brows lifting in quiet challenge. One you refused to meet, eyes casting downwards, to muddy soil clumped with leaves.
That gentle voice crooned from behind. “You don’t remember your husband, my child?”
The words hit like a blow, breath freezing inside.
The cowboy chuckled. “Just like she doesn’t remember her mother.”
Mother?
You turned, heart lurching, to look at grandma.
No. At mother.
“To think,” she mused lightly, “that I’d get to walk you down the aisle.”
Aisle.
Your head ached, a memory dislodged from impossibly deep inside. A memory that wasn’t yours. A younger version of him. A different woman. A father’s arm looped around hers as she walked forward.
Towards him.
That wasn’t you. It couldn’t be.
“But—I don’t know him,” you gasped, pointing weakly at the cowboy. “And you,” your finger shook as it turned on the elderly woman, “you’re just someone from my dreams.”
The words tumbled out, frantic and useless. A desperate attempt to make sense of it all.
Breath rushed in and out of your lungs, iron filling you with each inhale. Thick, metallic. Beneath it something like rot bubbled up.
It came from them. Clinging to their skin despite rain washing over them.
They weren’t human. Not just her.
Neither of them.
The cowboy had moved closer without your noticing. He was suddenly there, crowding your space as you spun helplessly between them, trying, and failing, to keep both in sight.
He chuckled below his breath, studying your frantic motions.
“It’s alright,” he murmured. “You’ll have time to remember.”
The man’s knuckles brushed your cheek. The touch froze you in place. Those dark eyes bored into yours. It was like looking into a lake and realizing something watched you back.
“We’ll have our eternity still,” he continued softly. “I promised, after all.”
His lips curled into something more sinister, his hand closing around your chin. His skin too smooth, missing scarring you knew should be there. It twisted at your heart, terror rushing to swallow you.
“And I don’t break my promises to you.”
I had another thought for an ask, I hope that’s okay!
Creatures of your choosing; who are the few who really like learning our care routines in depth so that they can do it for us themselves?
Like; brushing our hair, doing some hygiene stuff like washing us/doing our (probably limited) skincare, and just generally making sure we’re all settled in and properly looked after.
I hope you’re doing good, and that you’re enjoying your evening/day!!!
This was so funky to properly think about what with so many Creatures. Really lovely :D
Hopefully you’ll enjoy these!
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Creatures who enjoy taking care of you and keep watch over your routines.
The Cowboy
● This guy is a bit of a control freak at times. He doesn’t even mean it in a harmful way. He simply likes knowing your routine so he can adjust his accordingly.
● Routine and order soothe him. They’re a rhythm he can get lost in. Generally, he doesn’t have a need to compromise with the other Creatures, but they’ve existed alongside one another for so long already. They know when to change up and how.
● You, as a human, are a variable. He both likes and dislikes it. Too much change can grate at him, but it also excites him. Especially anything that he perceives as ‘taming’ you.
● Your own routines, if messy and unstructured, can jostle him a little. He’ll try and get a grip on them and might even add his own structure to it. It’s not on the clock mind you, but he’ll try and coax you to bed if he sees you’re tired. He’ll do the same with when to eat or bathe. It can be a bit overbearing sometimes.
● He’ll also want to take walks with you. Part because he knows movement is good for humans, and part because he likes it. If it’s cold, he’ll make sure you dress accordingly.
● The Cowboy will go out of his way to learn how to prepare thee and/or coffee if you drink the stuff. He always refuses to make it near bedtime though, but won’t stop you if you make it for yourself.
● If you have a skincare routine, he gets fascinated by it. If you, miraculously, have products like a face wash, serum, hydrating lotion etc. he’ll ask about them and why you apply them in a certain order. He'd find it strangely peaceful to apply them on you himself.
The Old lady
● The Old lady takes it up on herself to look after your hygienic care.
● She still knows how to create soap from when she was human. That this requires animal fat is merely a plus in her eyes. She, or another Creature, can catch an animal for food and its fat can be used for soap.
● Of course, if there are easier accessible hygienic products then it's only better. Mind you, the Creatures do not enjoy strongly perfumed products so might actually avoid you initially after you’ve bathed with modern body washes or shampoos. So say goodbye to spray deodorants and perfumes. They won’t allow them inside the caves.
● She goes out of her way to heat water and help you bathe if you allow it. To her there is nothing shameful about seeing nude bodies and she doesn’t think helping you wash is strange.
● If you ask she can add herbs to the water for a little scent.
● The Old lady has extensive knowledge of herbs and would use her knowledge to create scented soaps that won’t irritate them. If she knows which scents you prefer, she’ll take it into account. But she’ll absolutely keep her fellow Creatures' preferences into mind too.
● If your hair is long, she’ll want to brush and braid it before sleep. She might even kick any other Creature out of your nest for this little ritual. Except if they want to help.
● When it comes to your nails, she’ll want to file them if they become too long. She’d dislike it if you are a nailbiter and fusses over this habit.
The Milkman
● The Milkman is nosy. He likes checking in unannounced to basically take stock on what you have and what you may need. It’s a pretty obsessive trait that becomes part of his nightly routine.
● He’d be fully silent while doing this. Just walking in, eying your stuff—occasionally rifling through them—with a pleasant smile and leaving again.
● The first times he does this would be confusing (even mortifying if he goes through personal things), but eventually you’ll catch on that he merely tries to replace necessities and more.
● If he can’t find any proper replacement, he’ll go for the second best thing, but won’t be as satisfied when adding it to your collection. And yes, he knows exactly how you organize things and thus where to place it.
● He won’t exactly try to take care of your hygiene, but has no qualms about doing laundry. That is, if you don’t want to or can’t wash clothes or bedlinnen yourself. He’ll do it without even asking. If you have a pile of used clothes, he’ll gather them and go and wash them.
● He’ll gladly teach you how to wash them in their old fashioned ways and perceives washing clothes together as bonding time.
● If there’s anything you want, he’s your “man”. Tell him you want more fruit, more blankets or even a lamp and he’ll do his best to get them for you.
● He has a keen eye for your likes and dislikes and quickly picks up what you prefer. If you like the color blue, he’ll find a blue toothbrush. You like a type of food that doesn't exist in Fromville? He comes back with the closest variant he can find.
● In that regard some of the Creatures take a role of provider or nurturer so to speak. Sometimes these roles overlap. Just know, the more they provide, the more they tend to expect in return.
Smarts ~Jade Herrera~
Description: Jade is baffled by reader's need to keep up with studies.
Warnings: she/her pronouns, swearing, maybe a little out of character
Little random piece of work that isn't too great.
@buteraroplace for you have your inbox request :)
Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Last name, POV = Point of view
Word Count: 633
First person's POV
"What on earth are you doing?" Jade questioned, disturbing me from my hiding spot. Only place that allowed me to feel some sense of normalcy away from the town and Colony House.
I spoke without looking up from the textbooks that I had with me when I got stuck in this fucked up place that only Stephen King could have conjured up.
"Studying." A scoff left Jade's lips.
"Studying? What could you possibly be studying for?"
"Not all of us have PhDs, that can fulfill us with endless job possibilities. When I get out of here. I need to be caught up on my studies. I need to be prepared to get back to my life."
I resumed writing down notes from the textbook, trying my hardest to draw the diagram of the brain.
"You drew the cerebellum wrong." Jade pointed out.
"It's at the back, on the bottom, attached to the brain-stem. I did nothing wrong." I defended, not seeing whatever it was that he was seeing.
"Here. Let me." He snatched by workbook and pen away, like he was some little kid taking back his prized possession. Once he handed it back to me, he had drawn some medical-grade level diagram of a brain that made my little fun coloured diagram look like chicken-scratch.
Jade looked as smug as ever; that stupid little cocky smirk he does when he knows he is right. Drives me batty.
"What makes you so sure there's even an out of this?" Jade questioned, sucking away all effort that I carried to continue on with my studies. I shut the textbooks with a thwack, pushing them to the side and leant against the tree that became my safe haven.
"If I don't tell myself I can get out of here. I don't think I could survive much longer. I need this hope. Don't take it away from me." The words left my lips, separate from my own thoughts, soft and distant. Jade nodded briefly; taking a seat beside me, putting his focus at the empty archway in front of us. Some other mystical clue from hell.
"I... I'm sorry for taking that from you." I could tell, in a sense, it felt foreign to Jade, apologising. It was nice, however, hearing him apologise.
"Haven't taken it from me yet." A nod was all I got.
"So... psychology?"
"Yeah, wanna be a psychologist. I was only a month and a bit into my first year. I was driving from campus, there was traffic, I had a deadline to and I detoured. Found the tree, then got stuck in this nightmare just like everybody else."
Jade nods, taking in my words, he stands up and gathers my things.
"It's getting late." With a sigh, I stood up, following him towards town. We both gather in the bar, I cover the windows up, something I always do in the room I reside in among the town houses.
I lie on the floor, staring at the ceiling, taking in the silence that would soon be shattered by the monsters.
"You know. I was really liking college, it was fun... I was making friends, finally getting my life to how I imagined it."
"Look... I know I a giant hypocrite. The more you think about home, the more you'll destroy any remaining hope you have." I turned my head, appreciating his words, yet the comment just seemed to slip out.
"Jade are you being poetic for once rather than all brainiac?" I jumped up, grabbing some of the shit homemade vodka that always hurt my soul.
"You know what-"
"I'm sorry, that was mean, I know that..." Jade patted the floor beside him, grabbing the bottle from my hands.
"It's fine. I know I can be a prick at times too." The monsters began tapping on the window, whispering, attempting to gather attention that could be tempting enough to lure us out.
Another swing of the bottle. The taste bitter on my tongue, getting worse with each sip.
"Which one creeps you out the most?" He scoffed.
"They're all creepy-motherfuckers."
"Just- okay? Please, just... okay?" My brain was choking, I was tired and I swear I was struggling to even function at this point.
"That smiley-motherfucker."
"Yeah, he's pretty creepy." As I closed my eyes, the taunting of the creatures disappeared and the world drifted into silence.
Small Talk ~Kenny Liu~
Description: Kenny and reader have a nice talk
Warnings: she/her pronouns, swearing,
*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*
(Something small and random)
Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Last name, POV = Point of view
Word Count: 642
I had been in this town for about a month, still hadn't really adjusted, honestly... I don't think anyone has. I feel especially bad for Victor, poor thing's been here since he was a little boy and surely hasn't had the chance to develop cognitively, socially or emotionally. I mean, it irks me when people get creeped out by him. Give him a break, he was a kid when he got stuck here, lost his family and was alone with mutilated bodies for god knows how long.
When I got stuck here it was with two friends. Maria and Bridget. It was meant to be a girl's road trip, adventuring off into the big unknown after our first year at university was completed. We chose to stay in the town, less people meant better chances at not letting those creatures in. I was insistent of ensuring windows were nailed shut and even during the day that the blinds weren't opened. Maria, she died four days into staying in this.... this prison. The three of us and the Myers siblings got stuck in the diner. The creature who dubbed herself Jasmine, got into her head, Maria ran out wanting to give aid to 'Jasmine' and from there it was something I wish I hadn't witnessed.
Kenny was there, helped deal with the pain and from there we became close. It seems trauma can either make or break relationships. It seems when Kenny wasn't with Boyd acting as deputy, we would be sitting on his porch chatting away about life before this place.
"Call me an old lady, but I quite liked my little room on campus. It was nicely tucked away ev, away from all the noise and chaos of partying twenty-something-year-olds and had a pretty view." Kenny listened intently, nodding along to the words that I babbled on about.
"We had access to a bathroom that most students didn't use, so we never had to worry about trying to get our turn in the shower. We even had practically our own laundry. Might as well as been our own house! You totally think I'm lame."
"No! Not at all. I get it, I missed having my own living area." Kenny reassured, his hand reaching for mine, he stopped before he could grab my hand and awkwardly manoeuvred his hand so it looked as if he was simply patting his thigh. I felt comfortable with him and I wanted him to know he could hold my hand without worrying about crossing any boundaries. I grabbed his hand in mine, smiling and reassuring him that there was no need to worry.
"How... how are you going with those creatures? I heard from Bridget they were pretty hard on you last night..." Kenny whispered, moving closer and gripping my hand tighter. I pursed my lips, focusing on our hands and shrugging.
"Just something I have to deal with. Not much can be done about it. We've done all that we can do." I rest my head on Kenny's shoulder, smiling gently as he reaches up to my hair and soothingly runs his fingers through my strands.
"I think out of everyone I've seen get stuck here. You've probably been the one to take it best."
"Really?"
"Yeah, while you cried at first, you seemed to just take it in stride. Adapted as you could, quicker than most." Kenny looked at the diner, pulling away from me as he rose to his feet taking me with him and gestured to his mum.
"She really likes you, thinks you're a good worker." "I like helping out. There's not much I can do to help out."
"You've been here for a month, you're not expected to do much besides adjust."
One Step ~Ellis Stevens~
Description: Ellis helps reader adjust to life
Warnings: she/her pronouns, swearing,
*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*
(I believe Ellis is at least 22 if anyone actually knows, let me know please)
Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Last name, POV = Point of view
Word Count: 825
First Person's POV
When I arrived in this nightmare, it was nighttime, I was on my way home from the hospital after a two month stay. I had a total knee-replacement and I was finally able to come back home. My brother wanted me to move in with him for a little while, I needed support and he would be my support system, so I had majority of my things. I was picked up at 1pm and it was normally about a two-hour drive back home from the hospital. However, my brother took a detour after being stuck in traffic for 3 hours, he took the closest exit and by 6:25pm we found the tree.
My brother drove through this town twice before we saw them. Those things... while I still felt a little loopy from the medication I had earlier, my senses where there and something didn't feel right. My brother ignored my begs to stay in the car and got out. There and then he was ripped apart screaming until his last breath. In a scramble, despite the bursts of pain in my knee, I moved to the driver's seat and began driving to the closet building I could see in the dark.
This big old looking house stood in the opening. I got as close as possible before doing this awkward limp-stiff run and began banging on the door.
"Help!" I screamed banging on the door with both fists, pounding until my hands stung and went red with pain. Nobody came but I could hear them, hear them debating whether or not they should open the door.
"Please! Help me!" I begged, sobbing as these things slowly stalked closer.
Finally the door opened, I was grabbed roughly and then held at gun point. From there, I was kept in a room.
That was over three weeks ago. I still hadn't settled in. I shared a room with Ellis and Fatima, both of whom were wonderful and understanding. I hadn't gone outside the house since I arrived. I don't care if the day was safe, I wouldn't leave the house and leave the safety that had grown on me. I hadn't even gone to my brother's funeral... fuck I'm an awful person.
I approached Ellis with bravery in my heart, I thought too much last night, trapped in my own mind and after a small kick of readiness to adapt. He stared at me with his beautiful, welcoming smile and patted the space next to him. In an instant after I sat next to him, he wrapped his warm around me and rested my head on his shoulder.
"Talk to me." His voice was smooth like honey, comforting and inviting.
"I was thinking of maybe going outside..." I saw the way his eyes widened, but smiled as touch grew more comforting.
"But I need your help please. I don't think I can do it on my own." Ellis nodded, rubbing my side with such sweet gentleness.
"When do you want to start?"
"Now seems okay." Ellis pulled me to my feet, he held me close to his chest and we began heading towards the front door. We stopped in the small hall between the front door and the door leading to the main house. I took a few breaths, trying to get use to the feeling that we were close to the outside.
Ellis waited until I would nod, we would then take a step further until we were on the porch. I stared down towards the town, trying to get past the flashbacks of witnessing my brother be slaughtered.
"The breeze feels nice." I commented, trying to get my mind away from that nightmare.
"Is your knee doing alright?"
"Hurts but I'm doing alright for now." I rested my head on his shoulder, smiling as he brought me closer to his side and got me to sit on the railing. We sat in the breeze, watching as the other members ran around and went about their days. Ellis stood behind me for a little, making sure I didn't fall backwards after losing my balance but after a while, he moved to the side and only kept a hand on the small of my back.
"The flowers are pretty." I point out, trying to focus on the things that were good in this place. The more I thought about it, the more I felt like I was actually in the zombie tv shows I used to watch. If I put my mind to it, I could be like Daryl Dixon from the walking dead. I could adapt, still live my life even in the worse of times.
A week later, we got to the greenhouse. A couple of days after that we got to the closet town building to Colony house and a week from that Ellis and I sat in the diner.