dilapidated houses


Rethinking the Split House in Shanghai

The magical lane houses, which were once the dominant fabric that made urban Shanghai the intoxicating place that it was in the 1930s, are now slowly being demolished, taken over by high-density developments all over the city. Neri & Hu Design and Research Office was commissioned to reconstruct a dilapidated lane house left with almost nothing except its glorious shell in the historic and artistic Tianzifang area in Shanghai, and the mission was to transform it into three separate apartment units.

Neri&Hu’s strategy was to rethink the typology of the lane house–keeping the split level formation, a typical trait to lane houses in this city, and add spatial interest through new insertions and skylights to accentuate the architectural integrity of such a typology, contemporizing it for today’s lifestyle.

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Carmilla And Laura Living Together: A Concept

They put an offer in on a small house close to the city but the real-estate agent takes them to see an old dilapidated country pile way out near the backwoods that is practically collapsing in on itself.

Laura fall in love with the big mess and Carmilla rolls her eyes because there is no way they’re buying this place.

The house is so cheap because it may be haunted and Carmilla wants to nope the fuck out of there before Laura gets any big ideas.

“Thanks but no thanks, we’re not buying this murder house.”

“Carm, please, can we think about it?”

“Damn it how about no moRE CREEPY HOUSES JUST FOR ONCE?!”

Carmilla caves and they move into the murder house and start fixing it up.

Carmilla can’t help grinning every time she sees her tiny gay wife decorating the kitchen in just a t-shirt with a smudge of white paint on her butt.

The house is definitely haunted but Laura doesn’t mind because the 17th century scullery maids that died of smallpox teach her old-timey recipes that Carm might remember from before she was raised by her mother.

“Creampuff, is that pigeon pie with eel jelly I smell baking?”

Laura settles for a PB&J instead whilst Carmilla dives head first into a slice of misery.

Laura running upstairs with excitement the first time they get a letter that’s addressed to Mrs and Mrs Karnstein and jumps straight in Carmilla’s lap so they can open it together.

Laura rolling her eyes every time Carmilla skips off to the front door in glee to talk to Jehovahs Witnesses just so she can freak them out with their innate gayness.

Carmilla takes back every bad thing she’s ever said about the house when Christmas comes around because it makes Laura so happy decorating the gigantic Christmas tree and hanging mistletoe.

Both of them playing little games of hide and seek that always end with clothes getting ripped off… it doesn’t take long for Carm to realise it’s Laura’s strategic way of christening every room in their house.

Carmilla always falling asleep being the big spoon and waking up the little spoon instead because she rolls away in her sleep and Laura rolls over to cling to her back to stay warm during chilly nights.

Reverse burglary (a Christmas miracle)

(Based on this post. Sterek prompt, with a poor, grieving Derek who gets the safety and rescue he so desperately hopes for)

Derek sighs. The way to home from campus looks as unappealing as the stack of work that weighs down his bag. Snow and slush has filled the streets while he had been confined to the monotonic walls of the lecture room, coloring the ground with whites and grays and browns. 

Things have been tough for a long time now. Ever since Laura was killed, her body buried underneath the old and dilapidated Hale house, Derek’s been all alone. Grieving, anchorless mess. The fact that his own uncle had taken his alpha’s life, someone that was supposed to be family, was such a big blow that Derek hadn’t even known what to do with Peter afterwards.

Not that he had to do anything. His uncle had been killed by a hunter, Chris Argent, after Peter had gone rampant and apparently turned a couple teenagers in his fury. At first, a glimmer of hope had burst in Derek’s chest. Other wolves, just as lost and clueless as he was. It could mean a new start of a pack, a new family. Someone to get to be in contact with, to rely on without having to give anything but love in return.

It… Did not happen. 

The first boy that had been turned, the one with the slightly magical smelling friend, had rebuffed Derek so hard he was still blinking back tears whenever he thought of it. The second one he had approached from afar, but after getting the gist that the kid, Jackson whats-his-face was a self-entitled, rich and spoiled jock, Derek had turned on his heels and never looked back.

But even if he didn’t get to have a pack, his chest burning with longing and sadness so deep it ached whenever he saw the other wolves (The other kid, Scott, had turned into a true alpha, and had turned three other kids as well to join their pack. They looked happy.), at least he was safe in Beacon Hills from other hunters. Peter had killed Kate, Derek shuddering at the thought of her still roaming these streets, and Chris had taken the position of the local hunter, and had mostly only threatened Derek.

Apart from that one time that Chris and his goons had destroyed Laura’s Camaro, the only thing he had left of her. He had sobbed for the whole night, ready to curl into a ball and disappear, crawl into the grave with Laura’s body and hope Mother Nature would caress him into sleep so deep he’d get to see the rest of his family.

He stayed.

But one problem (among many others) that he had, was that Derek had no money. With Laura’s death, the human society unaware of her passing, since ‘werewolf territory death match’ wasn’t a viable explanation to the police, all of the money that their inheritance held was in Laura’s name. In Laura’s bank accounts. Derek had no access to those.

The only thing he had was the apartment Laura had rented, with a automatic payment contract to the monthly rent. Without an anchor, or at least a stable one, Derek was unable to get a job because he was so afraid he would fuck it up. He’d enrolled into Beacon Hills community college, because that too had been pre-paid, but other than the three pairs of henleys, two t-shirts, four pairs of boxers and one pair of jeans with his Converse shoes and Kånken bag, he virtually had nothing for himself.

He was piss poor, unemployed full-time student with no friends, no family and hunters that were ready to put him down with only a wrong twitch of the eye.

His life was a disaster.

Trudging through the melting snow, Derek listened to his stomach mourn for food. In three days time there would be a full moon, and in that time, the woods would be dangerous to hunt in. If he wanted food, he’d have to go either tonight, or tomorrow. He tskd, thinking of the pile of essays waiting for him.

Thank God he was allowed to hand write them. If he wasn’t, he’d practically have to live in the library or at the school campus, because he didn’t own a computer. Even his apartment held only one working lamp with a light bulb, an empty fridge and two towels. He did have a plate and a fork, as well as a meat knife he’d snatched from the outdoor diner that didn’t look close enough for their customer’s empty dishes. 

When he nears his apartment, Derek stiffens. Someone is inside his apartment. Wary, he carefully steps the three sets of stairs up to his door, and listens. The burglar doesn’t seem to be doing anything though. Which makes sense. Derek doesn’t even own a bed, for Christ’s sake. He usually sleeps as a wolf on the floor.

He rattles the lock loudly, hoping for whomever it is that’s on the other side would take the hint and bolt. But the person doesn’t. Derek opens the lock slowly, letting the door creak from its hinges, and steps inside. He drops his bag near the entrance as he closes the door behind him and stares.

The stranger is standing in a what should be a living room, his back faced against the front door. And it is a he, Derek realizes. It’s the kid, the friend of that true alpha. He’d never gotten his name, though, but he could smell the sheriff and the kid shared a scent, so he knows he’s a Stilinski at least.

The kid turns slowly, his eyes wide as he locks them with Derek.

‘’Dude,’’ the teen says with a feeling. Derek can sympathize.  

‘’This is where you live? There’s - There’s nothing here! I don’t even see a bed. Your fridge is so empty it doesn’t even have a light. Does any of your lights in this apartment work?’’

Confused, Derek quietly points to the one in the bathroom. ‘’That one works,’’ he says blankly.

‘’… Only that one?’’

‘’Uh,’’ Derek says, ‘’Yes?’’

‘’Dude,’’ the kid says with horror. ‘’What do you eat? You look like you have bones and skin, and… Stubble. Very manly and uh, wolfy, but not very nutritious.’’

Getting the wits of him, Derek scowls, growling a little. He crosses his arms. ‘’What are you even doing here?’’ he snarls. ‘’How did you even get in?’’

The kid looks unimpressed. ‘’I’m a cop’s kid. I know how to pick locks. Which, by the way, my dad’s the sheriff. He’s uh, in the know now. So.’’

‘’So what?’’

‘’So,’’ the kid says, ‘’You don’t need to hide in a place like this anymore. We know you’re a werewolf, and the Argent douche is a hunter, but dad will keep you safe. He’s not letting Argent mess with any of us, so I’m sure he’d be happy to help you out too. So, you know, move to a better apartment, get some food and clothes and stuff.’’

Derek blinks. ‘’I live here,’’ he says, uncomprehending. He doesn’t have any money to get a better apartment. He doesn’t live this way because he wants to.

‘’Well, yeah, but can’t you like, move somewhere else? You have money, I know, because I, um, might have seen the police file and the um, amount of money you got from the uh …’’ Death of you family, the kid doesn’t finish, but Derek hears it loud and clear. He looks away, the loss of it all hitting him renew.

‘’I don’t have any money,’’ he grits out. ‘’My sister… She’s got it all.’’

‘’Oh, uh, cool,’’ the kid says, swaying on his heels. ‘’So where is she? Do you want me to help you find her?’’

Derek snorts humorlessly. ‘’I know where she is,’’ he murmurs, hugging himself. ‘’And that’s where I hope I would be too.’’

The kid blinks. ‘’…And where is that?’’

‘’In a grave,’’ he answers roughly, ‘’and all the better for it.’’

The kid takes a few fumbled steps backwards. ‘’She’s dead? She uh, who - ‘’

‘’My uncle,’’ Derek sighs, and suddenly he’s weary, defeated. He comes to the living room, charting away from the kid and slumping against one of the walls, sliding it down so that he’s sitting on the floor.

‘’Everyone is dead. There’s noone left but me.’’

The kid frowns, whispering, ‘’That’s rough.’’ He comes to sit next to Derek, mimicking his position. They’re both quiet for a while, the moon filtering through the curtainless window, revealing the dust speckles swarming the floor. 

Abruptly, the kid stands up. ‘’I know what to do,’’ he says to nobody in particular, and then looks down at Derek and winks. ‘’Just wait here. I’ll be back.’’

The kid dashes to the door, only stopping to excitedly tell Derek, ‘’My name’s Stiles by the way. And I’ll be back so just sit tight, mister. I’m gonna - Yeah, this is going to be good, just wait - ‘’ And then he’s gone.

All that’s left of the guy is mixed smells that permeate Derek’s den. He waits a couple hours, but the kid doesn’t come back. So he goes to sleep, already regretting not getting any essays done. But that’s a problem for tomorrow.

When Derek gets home late the next day, there are strangers again in his apartment. This time it’s multiple someones. He doesn’t bother going quietly like last time, because he can smell the pack of wolves and they probably already know he’s coming.

Stiles is the one who opens the door before he has time to fish out his keys, and he’s beaming, ushering Derek inside.

Derek stops just shy of Stiles getting the door closed. He blinks dumbly at the sight that greets him. There are lights on everywhere at the apartment. There’s a fucking rug on his hallway, and he can see furniture in the living room, peeking from the corners. Stiles comes from behind him, pushing him more inside. At first he’s greeted by Sheriff Stilinski. The man is in his uniform, his face apologetic and reassuring.

‘’Mr. Hale,’’ he says, extending his hand. ‘’I have heard from my son that you are someone I can come to if I have any questions about the supernatural. I’ve been educated within the past four months, but information from a person who’s clearly more knowledgeable than my son’s friends or our town’s cryptic vet would be appreciated. And,’’ he says, bringing Derek into a comfortable hug, ‘’I’m very sorry for your loss son. I knew your family. If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m always available.’’

Then the man extracts himself and offers a smile. ‘’And call me John, son. I’l be sure to have my number in your cellphone after tonight.’’

‘’Derek,’’ Derek says in response. ‘’And uh, I don’t have a phone.’’

‘’You do now!’’ Stiles pipes up. Derek looks over, and then he sees the herd of teenagers that are the wolves he’s been seeing around town.

‘’I’m Isaac Lahey,’’ the first kid, Isaac, says. ‘’Nice to meet you.’’ He doesn’t offer his hand, but nods shyly. Derek knows him. He’d listened to the kid get beaten up more often than not, and even went to threaten the kid’ father a couple times. It’s nice to see Isaac to not be in pain or scared.

‘’Derek,’’ he offers in response. 

‘’I’m Erica, and this is my best friend Boyd,’’ the blond, white teen says, and points to the guy behind her. Derek nods at them.

‘’And I’m uh, Scott McCall. And I um, wanted to …’’ the kid whines in protest when Stiles jabs him in the side, but lowers his head. ‘’I’m sorry I was rude to you when we met. You tried to help me and I was being an idiot. I would like to start from a clean slate, and um, offer you a place in my pack. That is, if you want it.’’

Derek looks around. There are two sofas and a coffee table, a couple rugs and a bed. Even red curtains have made an appearance, and he can smell food in his kitchen that he knows wasn’t there before.

‘’Why all this? You don’t even know me. I don’t know you,’’ Derek says, baffled.

Stiles shrugs. ‘’It’s Christmas time and that is a time of giving? Because dude, I’ve seen you brooding away, thinking we don’t see when you look at us. I kind of know now what wolves need, and wolves need a pack. And you don’t have one. And we rejected you when you tried to form one with us, but we regret that. Because leaving someone alone after so much tragedy is, well, pretty much a punishable crime to me. So.’’ The kid spreads his hand. ‘’Here we are, if you want us. And you don’t even have to decide now. Just, think about it. Get to know us, let us get to know you. Let the odd ones gather into one big, smoochy family.’’

There are groans from the others, and the sheriff facepalms so hard, Derek hears the slap sound it makes, as the man’s palm hits against skin.

Derek hugs himself, already feeling a little bit better at having someone similar to him, someone with the same set of instincts than him be near him. Fill his den with their scents.

‘’I’ll think about it,’’ he promises, and Stiles fist pumps. Then the teens start carrying food from the kitchen, and Derek can’t help but think that, yeah. Maybe Laura will have to wait for awhile before Derek joins him.

Just for a little while.

We’ll Make It Happen

Just a little Malec/Madzie thing that ended up running away from me! I kinda wish this was a Malec/Lightwood Siblings + Clary plot later this season! Let me know if you want more! 

They found Iris Rouse a few days later, out in some dilapidated house in the middle of nowhere. It was a tall black shape, blocking out the already hidden winter sun against the colorless sky, the shadows cast by its hulking form looming over them as they stood and gazed up at it, a chilling air settling itself around them. The house was made of dark wood, rotted to holes in places from disuse, with its open windows creaking in the wind and what sounded like ravens cawing deep within. Alec shuddered as he remembered all the women Iris must have trapped here, the children…

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Careless: Chapter 1

Cas x Reader

1300 Words

Summary: As a hunter traveling with Sam and Dean Winchester, your lives were always at stake, and your emotions were always on edge. However, when they notice you aren’t acting like yourself, they enlist the help of their Angel friend, Castiel, an Angel who you had feelings for.

“Y/N! Watch out!” You hear Dean yell as the vampire placed his sharp, protruding fangs near your neck. With your hunter instincts, you had sensed the fact that the Vampire was near. However, you were just waiting for the right time to strike, but your opportunity had passed you by.

As the Vampire held you defenseless, you could see the white of his eyes disappear in shock before his head slowly rolled off of his shoulders. A breathless Sam stood behind the body, wielding a bloody machete.

“Thanks.” You said, before glancing around the dilapidated house. Five or six bodies littered the floor, pools of blood where their heads had once been. Only you, Sam and Dean were standing, all three of you covered in blood and gore.

Grabbing the duffel bag from the floor, you made your way out the door, ready to head back to the seedy motel. You were definitely calling dibs on the shower first.

Sam and Dean followed behind, both giving you curious glances that you couldn’t help but notice. You knew all their looks, you had been hunting with them for ten years, but you had been friends much longer. Your dad had been military buddies with theirs, and John had recruited your Dad into hunting once your mom had died.

Ignoring the silent conversation Sam and Dean were having, you crawled into the backseat, moaning when your shoulder bumped the seat. You had let the stupid vampire get the best of you, and now you were paying for it.

It wasn’t the first time you had let a monster get the best of you. Without the help of Sam and Dean, you would be dead by now. Knowing how close you had just come once again to death, you were curious about the fact that you felt nothing. It was like your emotions had been turned off.

While you were pondering your maudlin thoughts, Dean had maneuvered the Impala into the small parking lot of the one story motel, the Lazy Bird Inn. What used to be a Robins egg blue door, was now chipped and peeling, the number 23 crooked and one door slam away from falling off.

Leading the boys into the room, you dumped the weapons bag on the table before grabbing your clothing bag and heading straight towards the bathroom.

“Y/N, wait.” Dean exclaimed from behind you, his voice full of concern. Concern you didn’t want to think about.

Knowing they would want to talk about your lapse during the hunt, you kept moving towards the bathroom, commenting over your shoulder. “Later Dean, I really need a shower first.”

Dean didn’t try to stop you, leaving you to shut the door behind you in relief.  Quickly and painfully, you pulled off your long sleeved t-shirt, wincing at the purple that was already covering your shoulder.


Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped the small, faded towel around your body, feeling much better after the time spent in the warm water. As you started to towel dried your hair, you could hear the Winchester brothers deep in conversation. Frowning, you stepped closer to the door when you heard your name.

“Sam, I know your closer to Y/N than I am, but man I’m telling you, something doesn’t seem right.”

You strained to hear Sam’s reply, because what Dean said was true. Sam was closer to your age, and the two of you were close friends.

“I’ve been worried too Dean. I don’t know what it is, but I was hoping she would talk to me about it.”

You heard the fridge open and close, before Deans deep, whiskey smooth voice sounded through the door. “So, do we just ignore it, hope she talks to you?”

Sams voice came again, this time much closer to the bathroom. “I think we should get Cas down here. I know Y/N has a thing for him, maybe she will talk to him. I’m afraid if we don’t do something, it will end bad.”

Not wanting to hear any more of their conversation, you stepped away from the door, changing into a simple outfit of shorts and a tank top, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for the next twelve hours or so.

Walking back out into the main room, you saw Dean must have already prayed to Cas, because he was there, standing there awkwardly in front of the beds. Sam and Dean were nowhere to be found.

Flustered, you threw your stuff back into your duffel bag, using more force than necessary. Frustrated that Sam and Dean called in Cas to help you, using your feelings against you. If Cas turned those beautiful blue eyes in your direction, you might end up breaking down, and telling him everything. Except, you weren’t sure exactly what was going on, and even if you did, you weren’t sure you could put it in words.

Stuck inside your thoughts, you didn’t notice that Cas had moved closer to you, now standing close enough the sleeve of his tan trench coat brushed against the bare skin of your arm.

Taking a deep breath, you delayed the questions you knew were coming, by asking one of your own. “Where did Sam and Dean take off to?”

You still hadn’t turned to face Cas, so you missed the way his eyes darkened, and his jaw tightened, knowing that you were trying to act as if everything was normal.

“They went to the bar.” He simply answered, and you brushed past him, deciding to get a beer of your own. Before you could make it to the fridge, Cas reached out and gently grabbed you by the arm.

“Y/N.” Was all he said, but it was enough. You raised your gaze to meet his, hating the look of compassion that was shining bright in his blue eyes. The last thing you wanted was compassion, you weren’t sure how to handle it.

“Cas let me go, I’m getting a beer.” You muttered through your teeth, using anger to hide the unfamiliar emotions running through your system.

His hand released your arm, and you quickly grabbed a beer, gulping half of it down in one shot. Cas waited patiently until the bottle left your lips before trying again. “Y/N, Sam and Dean are worried about you. I’m worried about you. How can I help?”

You brushed off his concern, laughing to hide the fact that it warmed your heart that he cared about you. You weren’t sure if it was because you were with the Winchesters, or because he really cared for you, but either way it made you feel good. And you hadn’t felt good in a long time.

“Cas, really, the boys are just being their usual over protective self. I’m fine, I’ve just been unlucky lately. That’s it!” You defended yourself.

Cas cocked his had to the side, and you swore he was looking straight into your soul. Trying not to fidgit, you returned his stare, trying to show him, that you were in fact okay. In your heart you knew you weren’t okay, but you weren’t ready for him to see that.

After what seemed like hours, but was in fact only seconds, Cas looked away, and you could breathe normally again. You put the beer bottle down, before climbing onto the bed, deciding to call it a night.

Ignoring Cas, you pulled the covers up to your chin, and closed your eyes. Sleep had been elusive lately, and you hoped that you could get a good night’s sleep while Sam and Dean were gone. As your mind drifted, you heard the couch creak as Cas sat down.

“Well, if your fine, than you won’t mind if I stay with you guys on the next couple of hunts, will you?” Cas said, and your eyes opened, freaking out at the thought that your precious angel would be there 24/7, watching your every move.

More Parts to Come!

Tags: @summer-binging-spn @nerdybookwormsinger @generalgoldfishldrm @just-another-busy-fangirl @saoirsewhittle

incandescence; preview

Genre: werewolf!au, angst

Pairings: reader x taehyung (feat. all members)

Word count: 2k

Summary:  You had never been afraid of storms and neither did you believe in superstitions, but something about the swaying willows and withered oaks, flimsy and unstable caught up in the torrents of rain and sharp gusts of winds screamed bad omen.

The thundering clouds, hung low in the gloomy sky, growling and roaring loudly, as if upon the clouds sat a hungry lion, vexed at its inability to find food and shelter. You watched the downpour in silence, you had barely spoken a word during the entire 6 hour drive. Licking your lips for the umpteenth time, you found it impossible to push down the uneasiness building up in your chest. You had never been afraid of storms and neither did you believe in superstitions, but something about the swaying willows and withered oaks, flimsy and unstable caught up in the torrents of rain and sharp gusts of winds screamed bad omen.

 By the time, your  mother rounded up the driveway in front of your soon to be home for the coming few months, the raging winds seemed to have calmed down a little. You sighed taking in the dilapidated old house. It was not too big yet much too huge for it’s two lonely tenants. You couldn’t help but wonder what the house looked like, back in it’s days of glory. When the lush green creepers had not grown on it’s once pristine white walls. When the windows had not been sealed shut with years of rust and dirt plaguing it’s hinges. When the house looked like a home, not an abandoned haunted misery.

 You rolled down the windows making no move to step out of the car yet. The air was damp and cold, but when it caressed your cheeks, it felt eerie and uncomfortable, just like everything else about this place. You longed for the sunny skies and the sweltering heat of your hometown, but no amount of wishful thinking could turn things around and take you back.

 "So-“ your mother spoke up softly, testing the waters with her tone and choice of words. She knew you were upset about this whole move and somewhere or the else she held herself responsible. You hated seeing her guilt ridden eyes, for all you knew none of this was her fault. It was no one’s fault really, just a twist of fate that left you in quicksand. You had no way out and the only thing you were allowed to settle for was acceptance.

 "Don’t worry about it, Mom. I’ll be fine.” You reassured her, flashing her a small smile. “It does not look that bad. And it’s only for a few months right?” You tried to sound optimistic, and the thought of missing a semester at your local college and all the tedious routines that came along with it did make you feel slightly better.

 "If you say so Y/N.“ She trailed off sounding unsure and a good minute passed before she spoke up again. “After your father left, I no longer wanted to depend on him or his money but sometimes I can’t help but wonder if I should have put my pride aside, atleast for your sake when he said he wanted to help us. Guess it’s too late to regret now.” You felt terrible. You wanted to see your mother happy. You really really did. After all she had been through and all she had done to provide for you she deserved every happiness in the world and you wished you could give it to her.

 "Mom, I love you so much, and even though I’m such a brat sometimes you have to know how much I admire you. You’re beautiful inside out. I mean it.“ You squeezed her hand "You don’t have to worry about me, I know this job is important to you. To us. You can’t commute this far everyday and renting two houses will be too much of a burden. I get it. So please don’t blame any of it on yourself. We’re just doing our best to survive.” By the time you finished you felt embarassed over your emotional outburst already. You were never the one to show your emotions or speak your mind and this felt unbelievably awkward. However, you did mean every single word that made out of your mouth without doubt.

 "Wow my little ice princess has quite the heart of gold eh?“ Your mother let out a chuckle but her eyes glistened and a loving smile played on her lips. "And no you’re never a brat.” She winked at you. “you’re just the opposite.”


It took roughly an hour as the two of you went back and forth taking in the boxes and suitcases from the rear of the SUV. It was drizzling slightly but that faint raindrops were not a bother as you kept up your paces. By the time you were finished you collapsed on top of one of the boxes panting heavily as you took in the insides of the house in detail for the first time.

 You were pleasantly surprised, the shabby outward appearance of the house was incredibly deceptive in comparison to its well lit and neat interiors. The walls had been freshly painted a snowy white, and there were large windows framed with wood on each of the four walls of the living room. A comfortable looking leather couch sat in the middle looking a bit lonely by itself. But you were only going to be here for a short period so neither of you wanted to bother much with the decorations or the furniture. The less the better.

 Your mother’s voice echoed, bouncing off the emptiness of the house, as she called your name. You found her in the kitchen leaning forward on the black marble kitchen counter as she typed away on her phone. “Y/N? The gas supplies won’t work yet so maybe I’ll have to go pick up something from the diner we saw on our way here. Do you want to come along?” You shook your head in denial  immediately. “Alright then, you can freshen up until then, we can unpack tomorrow. You’re room’s the one on the left by the way.” You eyed the winding staircase in the living room which lead upstairs. It honestly did not look very stable. “My knees hurt just looking at those” You thought out loud and your mother’s booming laugh was the last thing you heard before she left leaving you all alone in this silent old house.

 You hugged your arms around yourself a little more tightly as you entered the room which was to be yours. It took you a while to figure out the heating, and you were shivering by the time you did. Somehow you had managed to drag your huge suitcase upstairs, your knees were indeed hurting but thankfully despite their shaky appearance the stairs did not give in under your weight. It was a strange feeling really but the moment you clambered your way upstairs a strange chill went down your spine and for some reason for a second you felt as if you were not alone. You dismissed it as paranoia, unsure if the exhaustion from a day so hectic was finally getting to you. 

 The bathroom was massive and maybe even bigger than your house back home. You took your time stacking up your toiletteries neatly on the shelves, all the while keeping an eye out for any roaches or spiders that might still be lingering. You turned on the faucet letting the bathtub fill up with warm water before stripping out of your jeans and flannel shirt  which felt itchy and damp, clinging uncomfortably to your body. 


 You froze mid activity as you heard the floorboards creak on the other side of the door. “Mom?” you stood still, only in your shirt as you tried strain your ears trying to tell reality and hallucinations apart. did you just imagine the whole thing. “Mom. Are you back already?” With a heart beat loud and frantic you sneaked upto the door before pushing it open with shaky hands. “Mom. oh my God, stop playing around I’m scared.” Your bedroom door stood open just as you had left it and  there was nothing but silence which met your desperate calls.

 The hallway was just as silent. The narrow space lit up by nothing but the faint light filtering in through the large window at the end of it. You furrowed your eyebrows, were you just imagining things? You had to be.


 Your heart dropped to you stomach and you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt something cold and squishy brush past you ankle.

 You body almost shook with relief, when you saw a furry ball of white near your feet, a timid mewl came from the tiny little kitten and your legs gave in as you collapsed on the ground clutching your chest. “You scared me to death little one. Oh my god-” it was no more than a few weeks old, its fur white and fluffy. It looked well bred and too tame to be a stray. “Come here” you got up on your knees and leaned forward trying to capture the little creature in your hands but it escaped quickly and you almost fell flat on your face. But all of a sudden you heard the kitten screech out an ugly sound and your blood ran cold. When you looked up a dark figure stood in front of you.

 Fear had never felt so overbearing and death had never felt like such an imminent threat before. All you were met with when you looked up was a cold hard stare and blood crazy eyes that looked too wild, too feral to be human.

 And just like that, all too soon the world went black.

Grandfather Tim.

Grandpa Tim was a bit of a recluse, as my family liked to say. He lived out in the middle of nowhere in an old, dilapidated house. But when he came around, everyone listened. No one argues or disobeys his commands, as strange as they were.

For example, the time Tim convinced my Aunt Betty to purchase a life insurance policy on my Uncle Bill. Betty argued but gave in to Grandpa who insisted on paying for the policy. Two years later, Uncle Bill passed away from a sudden heart attack. Aunt Betty received a huge payout that helped Uncle Bill’s wife with the funeral costs.

Sometimes his advice would be to get checked at the doctor, even if you weren’t sick, and they would find a life threatening tumor inside you. Other times, it would be to stay home from work on a certain day and then you’d see a twenty car pile up on the highway in the news. Grandpa Tim always knew exactly when to call.

When Tim died, I inherited all his possessions including his house. The lawyer instructed me to check his mailbox for a letter Tim left me.

I found myself opening a door in the basement and then almost fainting when I saw the endless cavern of hourglasses as far as the eye could see. The closest hourglasses to the door had the names of my family members etched on their bases. That’s when I saw the sand in my parent’s hourglasses about to run out. I called them and told them to not get on the plane heading to Tim’s funeral. The sand in their hourglasses refilled.


Every room in this house is filled from floor to ceiling with dead human hair. The family who used to live here cut their own hair, and over the course of several decades it just sort of piled up. Things like this happen more often than most of us would like to admit.

Jack Zimmermann, pool boy AU

(based on this post)

(edited to add a whole hell of a lot so if you clicked before 12:05 pm, click again :))

Jack, heir to Bad Bob’s Pool Water and Patio Maintenance empire, is told that before he is allowed in the executive offices, he has to get to know the business hands-on

So he ends up sullenly servicing the pools of all the rich kids in Samwell, MA (yuh i looked up the 413 area code, it’s in MA, not in the same area Samwell’s supposed to be, but whatever)

Finds himself scheduled for regular maintenance at this glorified frat house that all these boys share (some guy named Johnson requested him BY NAME, how the hell did he know)

Like, this house is dilapidated as hell but they have a POOL and they want it maintained?

Whatever, Jack knocks on the door and is greeted by a guy wearing a mustache and not much else

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Two days after Hurricane Katrina hit, 20-year-old Jabbar Gibson and his friends were desperate to escape their dilapidated housing project in New Orleans. Now’s the time to mention that Gibson was a small-time drug dealer and thief, who had stolen vehicles before. So what’s one more, especially when the alternative is a violent drowning death? He found a school bus, figured out how to drive the thing, and off he went to pick up as many friends and family as the bus could fit. Roughly 60 people climbed aboard, way beyond capacity, but since it’s not hard to choose between cramped legs and cramped inside a coffin, nobody complained.

Then, the cops came. Seeing a guy with a record driving a stolen bus, they ordered everyone off and were likely about to commence with the cuffin’ when Gibson countered with his secret weapon: his momma. Bernice Gibson told the cops that her son’s “theft” was the only way to save dozens of lives. Unless they had a better idea. They didn’t.

Off Gibson drove, hoping to make it to the Houston Astrodome and periodically stopping to squeeze in more people. After 13 hours, Gibson and his human Tetris puzzle arrived at the Astrodome. His was the first bus to arrive, beating police and emergency workers – actual trained responders. Everyone rejoiced!

Oh, wait, no. Everyone told them no.

7 Heroes Of History’s Darkest Nightmares Who Deserve Movies

squidclaws  asked:

Kylo trying to make a fire because, holy hell, it's freezing and there's obviously no working heaters in the dilapidated house they're camping in. He can't get it started. He's been striking match after match and none of them are working. Queue Kylo throwing matches and pouting in the corner, deciding that he might as well freeze. Hux picks up the matchbox, walks over, gets it on the first try.

Kylo is too cold to complain, and they huddle up together in front of the fire.

I had a really cool dream last night

Like… really cool.  I retained the whole thing, beginning to end, which rarely happens, and for a dream, it was surprisingly linear.  I jotted down the bullet points this morning before I went to work so I could write it down properly later.
It’s long, but I felt like sharing it. :)

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anonymous asked:

IZAYA last night i dreamed about you! i was living in a dilapidated house and you and your sisters pulled up dressed like clowns without the red noses and everything and said "get in" and we discovered this part of england that doesn't speak w a british accent. we robbed an old fashioned candy store and exposed this person as a pedophile and you could do backflips it was amazing and so cute

Hang out with us irl.

midwest gothic II; or: why are gas station bathrooms so iconic to me
  • the eyes on that sex shop billboard remind you of 2005 vampire stories on quizilla - so bright, so blue, so bright, the brightest color for miles in the muggy spring air, and they watch your car as you drive past.
  • four dilapidated houses around a chestnut horse who grazes alone.
  • (two miles down the road there’s a red brick mansion. two miles down the road there’s an abandoned barn.)
  • never mind that one in twenty leave - you’ve resigned yourself to existence here in this town this house this life. it’s your best friend that you worry about, the far-off look in his eyes, the light, the passion. you hate yourself for wanting him to stay. (you cannot be alone here like your mother and her mother and her mother)
  • as a child you wouldn’t swing too high - whispers around town talk about the little girl who swung over the bar and came back down inside out. it’s just a scary story, your mother says while she holds you, shaking in her arms, but you think she’s trembling, too.
  • don’t breathe in when you pass the graveyards. ghosts float in the air there, waiting to inhabit your lungs. it only takes one breath.
  • there are chlldish smiley faces scratched into the beige paint in the gas station bathroom. white, flaky eyes follow you as you wash your hands.