"What's for breakfeast?- burnt gore pancakes."

392 14 4
                                    


You wake up from a loud bang downstairs. It's been quite noisy there for a good while now, but you forced yourself to ignore it to let your poor body get a bit more rest. As you lie on the hard mattress, you silently stare into the ceiling, trying to comprehend your life. The people you called your parents got arrested after years of illegal business and now you were free from their neglect and abuse. Logically you should be happy or at least feel something, but you are strangely empty again.

It is hard to stay optimistic for long when you get shipped of to a freaky town to the middle of nowhere. Downstairs is your only known relative who's been making some noise for a while now, living his own real life, but you don't even know him that well. You've lived following the same boring routine all your life, hoping for something to change. But now that this massive change arrived, it's just overwhelming and puts you in a new strange sense of uncertainty. Another sudden sound halls from the first floor, rattling the thin walls between the rooms. You let out an annoyed sigh, burying your face in the pillow. It looks like you won't be sleeping any longer today.

Looking at your phone, to check the time, the picture of an empty battery and a black screen look back at you, mocking your bad luck. The outlets in this room seem to be out of order too. Great, no internet to waste your time, either. Not that you didn't doubt the existence of internet in this shit hole of a town.
Not wanting to play the staring game with the patch of black mold on the ceiling anymore, you get up and get dressed. The cold air bites at your skin, but luckily you have one or two sets of warm clothes. Everything else were T-shirts and shorts, something that would be better fit for a normal hot summer back in your hometown.

The stairs creek under your feet, but the resident of the house doesn't seem to notice your presence. The thoughts about what Technoblade might be busy doing at the ripe hour of the morning, get interrupted by the sight of a horrifying mess in the hallway. Some of the furniture standing in the way got knocked over and the carpet was missing. But what really freaked you out was the long trail of blood, smeared across the floor, leading from the entrance door into the kitchen.

"Did the guy drag a corpse in here or something...?", your mind jumps quickly into conclusion. You laugh it off internally, but the worry still remained. You proceed to follow the blood trail, cursing yourself for acting like all the stupid characters in a horror movie. Something told you, you would get used to it in no time. You peek inside the kitchen and see only the slash of a shining butcher knife, before it hits a large body and you let out a scream as blood splashes your way.

-"Pfft...uh...[Name]?" You open you eyes, your breath disappearing for a moment. The scarred face of Technoblade stares at you with worry from across the kitchen. You look around again, properly this time. It's the socially awkward man you met yesterday, standing behind a kitchen table, with an apron on him. He has a dirty knife and...oh.

You feel yesterday's baked potatoes rise up from your stomach ache at the sight of some larger animal split in half and without limbs lie on the table and kitchen. Oh yeah, right your uncle was a hunter. "Sorry, I-" You storm out of the kitchen right into the bathroom and let it go over the toilet bowl. Technoblade follows in swiftly, lingering in the door step, unsure what to do. "Oh no- you okay, kid?" He waits until you finish and offers you a glass of water, which you accept without thought. You clean the gross taste in your mouth and drink the water, breathing through. "What the fuck man...?" you mutter, trying to forget what you saw. The image would certainly haunt you for quite a while.

The hunter looks at you, with what you identify as an apologetic look. "Sorry for the whole thing. I'm already used to it, but I forgot that you aren't."
"What the fuck...?", you still mutter under your breath, but brush it off, signaling to Technoblade, that it's fine. Somehow. Sure, if the man wanted to dismember a whole damn deer in his kitchen, that's his business, right? Nothing wrong with that...

🗝𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞🪽 || Y!DSMP × ReaderWhere stories live. Discover now