A/N : It's heavily influenced by Over The Garden Wall, but not a crossover. It also influenced by Paradise Lost, but only a little. It's Rick and Morty,

Morty's hands were bloody, smeared with dark green. He watched himself grab the plastic knob on the screen door, mind flickering from iconic horror movies to his green fingers. "Hey Rick," He mumbled urgently.

"Morty, dammit!" Rick stomped through the fragile house. "Put that shit down." He yanked the screen door, and it opened with a scream along the runners, and Morty's hand fell behind his back. "Put it down, Morty—Outside."

Morty trudged to the edge of the porch and laid the mutilated cheeckeneep corpse on the top step of the dark gray wooden deck, and shook a feather of his arm. Rick came to join him at the steps.

Morty looked at him, and Rick held his eyes for a moment before looking out. They stood together with the thing at their feet, and they looked out at the giant trees on the creek at the edge of the property. A thin fence separated the green expense of grass from the dense patch of oaks, crawdads, and black water and trunks. Gnarled black trunks under a million black leaves, hanging stagnant and blocking the second sunset.

"What's out there?"

"You know it's juuuurgst foxeeps, quit being so, being so melodramatic, M-Morty."

"Rick..."

"What, are you sceeeaared of the shadows, Morty? Whoo, oh boy, how magical, foxeeps. They're, they're gonna come, riiiise up out of the shadows..." Rick hunched his shoulders and swung his arms like a zombie, then went back inside. "Come wash your hands, you look like you fisted it to death."

"Rick," Morty whined, "That's disgusting."

"I know, wh-why would you do that, Morty, to our own cheekeneep. It trusted you, Morty." Rick rambled from the living room, kicking his shoes off.

Morty sighed and gave a last glance to the gutted cheekeneep. The least foxeeps could do was eat the whole thing and not leave half a body for Morty to have nightmares about.

He went inside, closing the screen with a long slow keen.

It had trusted him, you know, to protect it from the elements. It was so innocent and beautiful. Or maybe it only trusted Rick. You can never tell if cheekeneeps see that you're at least trying, you're sure trying your best but no one cares, they just want results. Trying only counts in horses, gernards, and gift giving. Everything else leads to disappointment, guilt, and the blood of the innocent.

Morty sat with the cheekeneeps all night, next to their hutch, even though it was cold and windy out here. He had his shoes on, this time.

A pair of small eyes came to stare wearily at him. Morty was too naïve to be scared, too mystical and secretly romantic to be arfaid of the wild, of monsters, of homicidal creatures staring at him.

The giant trees rustled and groaned, leaves straining against the trunk, against the wind. Morty shivered, and the foxeep stood there.

"G-go away..."

The foxeeps eyes grew and its form was the entire night, eyes centered. Morty's eyes swam and warped the darkness into a pulsing tunnel, with yellow eyes at the end.

Morty had a rifle.

The eyes moved, disappeared, left. And Morty fell asleep.

"God dammit Morty."

He woke to pitch dark and something nudging his side.

It was 9:30 pm. "Get up you, you, you, you stupid icicle. Whaaauuhrpt's wrong with you, are you psyyyyhhchotic?" Rick pulled him up with some tactfullness and held him on his feet with one arm. "You looked dead, you twerp. Ge-ge-get insidee."

"I s—I saw the fox." Morty said it once or twice, leaning on Rick, and they went inside.

"I hope it waaauhrpas worth it." Rick said, pulling open the screen door, and scaring something under the porch into a fluttery thump. It startled Morty, a little, but didn't wake him up.

The gun was still there in the dewy grass and white clovers by the hutch, in the morning. Morty picked it up by the muzzle and held it like a dead cheekeneep.

The screen door screeched. "Morty! Clean the cheekeneep shit real good, then get in here and help me with breakfast."

Mmm.

Morty glanced at the oak trees.

"M-maybe we should go to town with some of them."

"I'm not sharing these with anyone who's not family." Rick pointed his spatula at Morty.

He smiled and ate a blueberry. "Um. I meant the cheeckeneeps."

"Oh." Rick leaned on the counter of their tiny kitchen, warm and buttery, syrup and caramel, green and yellow and old. "I don't know about that Morty. How many even do we have now. There's a limited window. Of cheekeneeps. How many we got left?" He flipped the pancake.

"Some."

A/N : More background on the Planet of the Eeps coming soon