#a water pipe in my basement froze this morning so i had other things on my mind lol

[unnonexistence]

OH SHIT IT'S NEWT'S BIRTHDAY TODAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY NEWT

[cyncerity]

TOMMY FINALLY TALKING TO RANBOO FOR THE FIRST TIME LIKE “sup motherfucker give me my damn house back” ranboos like THIS LITTLE DUDE IS ALIVE?!? Tommy’s like that isn’t important rn give me my home

(I have a feeling these asks were sent by the same person, but if they weren’t it’s kinda funny they were sent at the same time and have the same writing style lmao)

Ranboo would freak out, definitely. He’s definitely noticed this weird doll that Tubbo always carries around, but he hasn’t ever mentioned it. He’s just kind of learned to live with its existence. Even if he thinks he’s going crazy cause the dolls expression keeps changing. So yeah, let’s have Ranboo meet Tommy >:)

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Just close your eyes and hold out your hands! It’s not that hard, bossman.”

Ranboo begrudgingly squeezed his eyes shut and held out his open palms. It’s not as if he didn’t trust Tubbo, it’s just that Tubbo could be…weird, and he was a bit nervous for his “surprise.” Ok, maybe more than a bit.

…

In all fairness, screaming might not have been the right response. But what else was Ranboo supposed to do with the talking doll in front of him? He hadn’t tried to scream, it was a natural reaction! It definitely wasn’t what Ranboo had in mind when Tubbo had said he wanted to “show him something cool”.

Tubbos hands went immediately over Ranboo’s eyes and mouth, at which point Ranboo heard the same, unfamiliar voice he had heard earlier mumble “fuckin rude” before Tubbo whispered to him. “Shhh! We don’t need to call extra attention to ourselves, do you want your brother to come in here! What the hell?”

Ranboo dropped the doll on his lap and pried Tubbos hands off his face. “What do you mean ‘what the hell’?? That-“ Ranboo pointed to the doll, which was now on his lap, crossing its arms and staring at him, and not moving, strangely enough, “just talked! I should be the one asking you ‘what the hell’! Why’s it alive?!”

“First of all, he’s not an ‘it,’ he’s a ‘he.’ And his name is Tommy. Second of all, hes my other best friend, so you’d better get used to him. And the only way to do that is to talk to him.” Ranboo grumbled at Tubbo before picking up the doll in a fist and holding it up. “Tommy” just continued to stare at Ranboo, and it clicked to Ranboo that the doll hadn’t moved at all since he dropped him. Maybe it wasn’t the doll that had been talking, maybe it was something else? Had he been wrong? Ranboo looked back at Tubbo, exasperated.

“It looks like your ‘friend’ doesn’t want to make much of an effort towards friendship either.” Tubbo rolled his eyes and sighed. “You have to close your eyes, big man. He can’t move or talk if anyone’s looking at him.” “This has to be a prank-“ “Just do it!!” Ranboo huffed in frustration and closed his eyes again.

The doll spoke out again almost immediately. “Fucking finally!” Tommy shouted before sighing as he saw Ranboo’s jaw drop and his eyebrows raise. “Ranboo, listen, the whole ‘eye contact’ thing is a long story, and why I’m alive is an even longer story, but I need to know if you still have that dollhouse that your therapist sold you.” Ranboo thought about it for a bit before putting the pieces together. “…I took your house, didn’t I?”

“Not necessarily,” Tubbo said. “I told Aunt Puffy she could sell it before I found out that the dolls that lived there were alive. So they’re kinda homeless. We didn’t even want to tell you in the first place. No offense, but you seem pretty stressed out, and memory problems and cursed dolls don’t mix well.” Ranboo only had a short amount of time to linger on the guilt in Tubbos voice before the doll piped up again. “The problem is, we don’t know how to get the house back into Tubbos basement without looking suspicious. Tubbo’s dad has turned the basement, where the house was, into his personal office, anyways. Neither of us want his family questioning why he would suddenly want the house back, since we’re not sure how they would respond to living dolls-“ “Wait, dolls? As in more than just you?” Ranboo interrupted. “Yes, more than just me, keep up, dumbass. Anyways, my family wanted to just move here since they don’t have any particular attachment to Tubbo. And it’s not like I do, Tubbos the clingy one, not me, it’s just that your brother is terrifying and our last meeting didn’t go…great. So your house is out. Any other ideas?”

Ranboo didn’t know what the doll was talking about until he recalled the last time Tubbo had brought the blonde doll to his house. At the time, Ranboo had found it odd that Dream playfully tossing the doll around had resulted in Tubbo almost breaking down in tears, but he now understood how badly that could’ve ended.

“Dream didn’t mean it like that, he couldn’t have known, I’m sorry-“ Ranboo said before being interrupted by the voice again. “I don’t need you to be sorry, I need you to think! What the hell do we do about this?”

“Actually, uuuhhhh…” “Tommy.” Ranboo nodded quickly before returning to his thoughts. “Actually, Tommy, I might have an idea…”

~~~~~~~~

“So why are we here exactly?” Wilbur said. Tommy had left everyone extremely confused after he spontaneously decided to gather everyone for a family meeting, only to direct them onto the floor and say “follow me.” They had assumed Tommy wanted to talk more about their house after he told them they couldn’t get it back nor live in Ranboo’s house, but instead they now found themselves walking down the hallway towards god knows where. It’s not exactly like they had bothered to explore the house.

“Tommy, this is risky.” Techno muttered. “What if the humans come down the hall?” “It’s 3:30 in the morning, Blade, we’ll be fine.” Tommy retorted.

“I have to agree with Techno on this one, Toms. This is really risky.” Phil said. “It’ll be worth it, I promise, just follow me!” Tommy began to walk faster towards wherever as the rest of the SBI looked at each other and sighed before catching up to Tommy.

After a few more minutes of walking, the dolls came upon a door. Tommy knocked on it a few times before it swung backwards and he ushered his family in in front of him. The three of them looked up and froze, for once not because of someone’s stare, but from shock.

Above them stood Tubbo and Ranboo, doing their best to plaster shingles and mini columns to a model doll house that sat on a table. It looked like a sort of log cabin, complete with fake snow, but was so much bigger than their previous house. It took up half the room, and the half it didn’t take up was paved with wires that seemed to spout from the bottom of the house.

“What- what is this?” Phil gaped. “We felt really bad that we couldn’t get your house back, so we wanted to make up for it!” Ranboo nodded along as Tubbo spoke, both continuing to keep their eyes off the dolls and locked on the mini mansion. “I told my aunt that me and Ranboo should do some sort of ‘therapeutic bonding activity,’ which she bought. So we looked around a bunch for doll houses that would be correct to your size, but we couldn’t find any that where exact. So I had my friend Foolish 3D print out some custom walls and stuff. And we ordered the rest of the furniture and other supplies on Amazon.”

“Well, not all of it.” Ranboo said. “We still wanted your input on what it should look like on the inside. There’s all sorts of furniture and mini wallpapers we can buy online or make ourselves.”

“The electricity was a bitch, though,” Tubbo interjects, gesturing to the mess of wires on the floor. “Just be thankful you’ve got automatic lights and a heating system. We didn’t really see the need for running water or a tiny fridge, though, since you guys don’t seem to need food or showers.” Phil, Wilbur, and Techno looked on in varying levels of excitement and awe as Tommy looked at them with a proud smirk on his face. Phil looked over to his son, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, before he pulled Tommy into a tight hug, Wilbur and surprisingly Techno shortly after.

“Well,” Wilbur said, “looks like we’ve got a few decisions to make here.”

To say Schlatt and Puffy were confused when they walked in in the morning to find Ranboo and Tubbo passed out over the mini house, dolls strewn about the room, and over a hundred online orders of different fabrics, stickers, and doll furniture would be an understatement.

[quanticowrites]

You make every day worth living (Timothy McGee x Reader)

•• Hello all! ❤️ I hope you all enjoy! ••

Waking up after the sun rose was a rarity you usually only enjoyed on the weekends when you didn't have a case. Much less during a case. You rolled over in the motel bed and stretched out your legs with a sigh. You turned your head to look at the alarm clock. It was just shy of eight in the morning. When you sat up the frustration in the back of your mind dropped down to the pit of your stomach. You slowly made your way to the bathroom and started the shower. While waiting for the water to warm up you leaned against the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror. The image of a body crumpled in a bloody heap behind a dumpster flashed through your mind. The murderer liked people with very specific physical attributes. You just so happened to have all of them. You blinked at your now blurry reflection.

“Shit!” You exclaimed, stepping into the shower. While you washed up your mind wandered to what Tim might be up to. Was he running late into the bullpen, with a burnt bagel sticking out of his mouth and a lukewarm coffee in his hand, or did he get up early enough to have already eaten and have a piping hot cup he'd be willing to share with you? You looked at your phone once you came out of the bathroom. You frowned. No texts, no calls, no nothing. A good morning text from Tim would have been nice. He liked to surprise you with little things like that. You'd both been on again off again for about a year now. You threw everything that had been in your go bag on the bed and sighed. You were all out of toothpaste and getting low on cash. Despite you telling Gibbs you wouldn't leave the motel room under any circumstances, except if it was on fire until they caught the guy, you headed out.

You hailed a cab back to your apartment to grab another bag of clothes and other things you might need. Who knows how long you might be away from home. You went to unlock your door and found yourself pushing the door open.

“I know I locked this when I left,” You mumbled before closing it behind you. You went down the hall to your bedroom and froze. The door was ajar and the hallway light was on. You gasped as the barrel of a gun was pushed into your back.

“Keep your hands where I can see them.” He ordered. “I was hoping to find you here.”

“So what? Are you going to kill me like the petty officer?”

“If the bitch just did as she was told she'd still be alive.” He chuckled. “Don't worry though, I'm sure you won't make the same mistake.”

“Why should I go with you?” You turned your head to face him. “Put that gun down and I can guarantee who's going to go with who.” He narrowed his eyes.

“I'll kill that slim guy you work with.” You wanted to reply with a smart ass remark, asking if he meant Jimmy or Tim, but you figured this wasn't the best time. You nodded.

“Alright, fine.” You dared to turn around completely. “I'll go with you, as long as you don't hurt him.” He smirked.

“I always keep my promises, baby.”

“Don't call me that.” You said through clenched teeth. He motioned to the door, grabbing a jacket off your couch and folding it over the gun.

“Out to my car. Let's go.”

The suspect ended up taking you to his house. Then to his basement. You wished you could have at least known where his house was, but once he got you out in his car he tied a blindfold around your eyes and ordered you to lay down in the backseat. He pushed you down into a bed and clasped a chain to your ankle. It was connected to the floor and let you walk all around the room, and to the connected bathroom, but you couldn't get out. He stands up and laughs.

“You'll come around.” He winked. “I'll give you some time to get settled. I'll come back later with dinner.” And he did. But what was so strange was...that's essentially all he did. He only came to the basement to give you food and water or to talk. You were starting to think this man needed a swift kick to the balls. His parents must have never told him no. Well, at least the basement had a small window so you could at least tell how much time had past. Three agonizing days. Tim and the rest of the team must be going ballistic. You were forced out of your thoughts at the sound of gunshots upstairs and the thud of something heavy hitting the floor. You screamed as the door was kicked open. Tim came running down the stairs.

“Tim!” He ran up to you and crushed you against him.

“Thank god.” He sighed into your skin and you kissed his cheek. “Come on,” He says while pulling back, “Let's get you out of here.” He starts to walk away and you blink. Did he not notice?

“Uh...Tim?” You pointed to your ankle. His face flushed.

“Oh! L-let me go see if any of the others found the key.”

After Bishop found the key in the suspect's bedroom you headed down to autopsy to get checked out by Ducky before heading back to your apartment. He checked your reflexes, made sure you were properly hydrated and asked if you wanted to talk about your ordeal. You politely told him: not right now. Tim walked in with a wish of the doors and Ducky sent you a knowing smile.

“I'll give you two the room.” Tim waited until Ducky was out of sight before hopping up onto the table beside you.

“(Y/n), I need to tell you something. I know this probably isn't the right time but if I don't say it now I know I'm gonna regret it.” He put his hand on top of yours and you glanced down. He placed his fingers between yours and squeezed.

“Tim?”

“(Y/n), you make every day worth living.” He pauses. “I know we've been fairly casual about our relationship thus far but… would you be willing to go further?” You kept silent for a minute, purely out of shock. Tim wasn't one to normally speak up about things unless it was really important. You smiled. You must be really important to him.

“I am.” Tim made you feel complete. If he was finally ready to move forward, so were you.

Tag list: @stanathanxoox , @nikkiwierden , @malindacath , @havlindzk , @countrygal17a , @memyselfandmaddox , @octobersmog , @mizzezm , @diaryofafan17 , @emmitheacefangirl , @smolpersonbigworld , @a-sad-excuse-of-everything

[beaflower77]

An Atmosphere Of Sorrow

“I’ll be back soon. I promise,” he insisted, “I have to investigate the fit and finish issue they stuck me with at the Assembly Plant. These damn build issues are a nuisance.” And he walked out, forgetting behind the black tattered briefcase he always carried. He kissed her lightly. She frowned. She had no choice but to let him go to work, and her back to that house. She sulked. 

Her mood being dark and uneasy, Dove crossed her arms, huddled herself further into her thick blue sweater and began dubiously walking back toward the front door. The harvest air was getting increasingly crisper each day, and her faculties more scattered. As he backed the old ‘72 Pinto down the gravel drive, the muffler backfired. Black smoke puffed behind. She hoped it wouldn’t burst into flames as old cars did, it seemed to be an impressively sturdy old car. For its age. 

“I wish you wouldn’t keep pouring money into that old crapper of a car,” she said against the chilly air. “One day Franklin,” she threatened the wind, “You’re going to find all those parts fallen off that rust bucket and lay scattered on the drive come morning. And no car for us to drive. Or blown up and burnt to a crisp.” Slowly Dove procrastinated walking back, stopping to smell the remaining magnolia on her way. Outside it was crisp, but still pleasant. Outside. 

Furnace had gone off. Again. She was lightly bundled in a tee, another shirt and sweater on top of that. House was still cold. Squinting at the out of date thermostat in the hall, Dove suspiciously tapped several times hoping to make the little red arrow move in a more positive direction toward 72. Today, maybe 82. No such luck. The thermostat still registered 58, and it wasn’t gonna budge. Sighing against nothing and feeling downcast Dove decided to check her luck with the furnace downstairs. It was the third time this week the power had gone out.

Tossing her slippers aside, pulling on last years christmas combat boots which Franklin had gifted her, Dove tromped loudly down, pulling against the chain attached to a bulb for some illumination. “Oh, that’s right. How quickly I forget. There’s nothing,” she said annoyingly. Forgetting the power outage, she fumbled through the dark, fiddling round to locate the flashlight. Her fingers finally found it. Clicking it on, looking around, she saw nothing out of place. However, sensing a shadow from her peripheral vision, Dove froze. She felt a fluttering of tight sensations inside her chest. Her skin prickled. With chest pounding, throat tightening, Dove’s psyche shrank. It was so much colder down here she noticed. Slowly turning her head, staring long into the dim, was a figure. A slim male figure standing against the bricked basement wall and dirt packed floor. Battered old brown hat on his head, waistcoat buttoned nicely, tan suit, hands by his side never moving. But his eyes, his eyes were sharp. And they stared directly back at Dove. Opening her mouth, Dove could taste the staleness of the basement’s air, she also knew she was breathing it in, and just knowing that made her chest constrict more rise and fall in rapid silence. The man continued to stare, she continued to stare. Too frightened to move, Dove almost forgot to breathe, and parts of her reasoning went out the window. 

Coming to terms there was truly something there, or rather someone, Dove’s gut clenched, and trying very hard not to embrace this realistic idea, Dove tried concentrating only on her breathing and forced her legs to move past his image, the scattered boxes, the washer, and look for the correct heating pipes on the ceiling. Making light of a squeamish situation, Dove insisted, “I don’t think you’re there.” And she exhaled just a bit while trying to calm down. Perhaps this was just a trick of the eye to convince herself it was from lack of sleep. A very large lack of sleep. Her breathing didn’t get any better, but her eyes felt so horribly heavy and tired and sore. She rubbed them. It didn’t help. “I really don’t like this house. I hate this house. I hate it here,” Dove grumbled. “Where is the stupid furnace?” She sense the apparition still there watching, “Don’t look at me!”, she forced out, not too convincingly. A headache began. And a frightening, horrid idea came to her mind. What if it were actually real? 

As Dove walked past, she considered was she just visualizing something that really wasn’t there, or was it actually real? Perhaps it was time for her annual eye exam. No, she had one just last year. Truly it was not easy to tell the difference anymore Dove thought, as her stomach lurched and her throat’s saliva dried. Feeling queasy and nauseous she put her hand to her abdomen. The smell was thick and swollen, it was enormous and it lingered. It smelt putrid, like rotted eggs broken and left sitting too long on a stove overnight, or maybe even a year. “Oh, my god,” Dove whined. “It stinks down here.” And lifting her tee, Dove covered her mouth and nose. “I’m going to tell Franklin there are dead rats down here. It’s his family’s house, he can look for their dead bodies. Not me.” 

Next she looked, which Dove had claimed she wouldn’t, the old man was still there. He watched. This time his mouth turned a slight smile. She turned quickly away, “I’m not talking to you,” Dove mumbled lowly, “I’m not looking at you either. You don’t exist. Just don’t be there, go away,” and she refused to look in the spectre’s direct path again. Just thinking this was all too real made Dove sick. Going about her business, finding the furnace, rattling the large overhead pipes into life or heat, nothing happened. Avoiding looking at the back wall, tromping back upstairs, Dove decided on a different tactic. Sleep. That usually solved all the world’s problems. 

Still his eyes followed. Still his smile remained. And Dove’s feelings of the macabre and fear increased and doubled with each creak the basement steps made against her weight. She turned her flashlight off. She wanted to heave. 

Heading back into the kitchen, Dove tossed aside her boots in lieu of warm slippers and checked the electricity again. Instead of flipping the light switch, she stuck the power cord of the toaster into the socket. All she received back was a phfist and a puff of black smoke. “Eww”, Dove said sourly. “Wonderful. Thanks a bunch. All I wanted was a piece of toast. Dumb toaster.” She pulled on the cord and a little blue zip of lightning came from the socket. “Ouch!” as she yanked her fingers back wrapping them protectively with her other hand. She grabbed a bag of chips and a half eaten donut left on the counter instead. Taking out the last of the juice from the warm fridge, Dove could now confirm the electricity was definitely out. Fridge warm, no light inside either. Complaining as she walked towards the bedroom, “Yeah thanks electric company for turning everything off. Again.” Yet for all her whining, Dove felt enormously better up here, than down there. 

Still things continued to plague her senses. But at least, the smell had lessoned. 

That blue electric zip should not have been there without electricity, Dove thought, but she didn’t let this fact invade her brain, for to do so was admitting defeat, admitting something screwy was happening in the house. Or with her sense of normality. This house, for all its newer additions and older rooms, with the old pully windows and creaky floor boards was unsettling, sad and distressful at best. Each time Dove walked into the foyer the sadness, the gloom hit her like a pile of bricks. Each room entertaining its own depth of sorrow, its own magnitude of heartache and woe, made such a dent in her emotional heartache sometimes causing her to tear and cry for no particular reason anymore. 

She sensed shadows of loss, of tears, tossed away dreams of love. And the regret, despair and gloominess enveloped her more each day. “Such a horrific combination. So dismal, so mournful,” Dove caressed the void and a sorrow unlike any she had known enclosed around her. “I feel so, so dreary and miserable, yet there’s nothing truly wrong or empty in my life, I just..” However during the lonely, desolate days she would roam, roam the halls, the half dusted, half empty rooms, feeling abandoned, nostalgic and soppy. “I wondered who lived here before. Or what they did, what words they used. How they lived, how they .. died. It’s just .. creepy here sometimes. It’s too overwhelming and disappointing.” Such despair and anguish was almost completely unbearable for Dove to fathom each day. 

Looking around, wandering each room, touching a doorframe here, stair banister there, looking over the intricate cornucopia of ceiling designs and motifs above, she tried not letting her emotions pool around her as her sweater did. Returning down to the kitchen sink, sticking her burnt fingers again under a cool stream of faucet water, “At least the water is still on.” When looking out the kitchen window, Dove couldn’t see any other house across the gravel drive. Was it just this house, this area? Did any other house have power outages as well, and as often? She decided it was too cold to walk down the drive and look. But then looking twice, Dove thought she saw a flicker. A flicker of something, or someone moved past the kitchen window. Pulling quickly back, eyes wide, a panic intruded her mind. Dove escaped to her upstairs bedroom and decided to isolate herself. Her mind which often played tricks here went with her, and stayed there till late afternoon.

When Franklin returned with a large order of take out, thoughts of a basement man, flickering images and her sad, despondent lingering thoughts had long left. Having her mouth load up on Chinese lobster with rice had not only filled her stomach but her heart as well with a well stocked amount of peace she hadn’t realized she had missed since morning. A steamy conversation took the place of uncomfortable feelings that night. 

But the next day arrived too soon.

By the morning the heat was back. “Hey, furnace is back,” Franklin sang out from a too hot shower. 

Dove was still under the heated mess of covers. “Hmm,” she sighed. She breathed in deeply, stretched, and rolled right back over. Hopefully they could go out tonight, at least that was her anticipated plan. Today she was not going to let any shadows intrude. Dove had work to do, and she had no plans to plunge into that basement again. But as she rolled over, she wondered, could Franklin sense these feelings, these shadows and imaginings, or was it just her? Probably not. Maybe she imagined. No, not. And fearing to ask, Dove would only hear in return, “It’s just your imagination”, or “You’re just tired, You’re working too hard.” “Perhaps it is just too real,” she might say back. Her eyes closed and sleep drew her back for more dreams. 

“I should be back early tonight,” Franklin whispered, kissing her lightly before walking out the door. “We’ll go out tonight, if you’d like,” came his suggestion. Dove smiled. The car backfired. And nothing was what Dove heard, deep in Rem sleep for once. Fragrant, slow steamy coffee with hot toast and jam filled her dreams. All reminders of the ethereal were long forgotten. For now. 

A solo steamy shower over, Dove vigorously rubbed her body, and proceeded with launching her wet hair down in front of her curled body and frisked it back and forth saying to no one in particular, “I’ve got lots to do today. No time for nonsense or nothing. Today we’re going to crack those eggs and get moving!” And a frisky, happy tone toward work began. She hummed along to her playlist. 

Straightening back up, flipping her damp hair over, something stood out from the corner of her eye. She spun! She started! Dove froze! Someone was standing there! Dove saw someone standing right there, in front of her! Right next to her, and she could see it clearly reflecting back in the mirror. “Ahh!,” backing up too suddenly, clinching, grabbing at her towel. Dove’s heart lurched, she felt it double thump loudly and even stop. Her breathe came rapidly, and a tiny dribble of urine escape down her leg. Dove almost fell into the toilet. The vision was gone rapidly.

The electricity had gone out again. The electric clocks blinked on and off. The sky outside cloudy, revealing hardly any sun made the bathroom gray and dismal. This was the third time in a week. And more than enough times to be caught off guard.

As Dove started freaking out, she went about gathering her clothes, flinging them on and called Franklin on her cell. As he stated answering her call, “Davenport here”,  heavy machinery noise collided with delicate cell coverage. He put a finger in his ear. 

“I can’t!” she claimed. “I can’t do this anymore! Franklin! Franklin, please come home! I want to go home! I don’t want to be here anymore!” Dove was emphatically blunt and direct. 

“Do what?!” he questioned, not hearing her clear enough. “Dove? What’s the matter? Where are you? What’s going on?!” As too much noise drowned Dove’s pleas and pain out, “Wait! Let me move out of here. Hang on!” And he walked away from the noise. “Turn off those cylinders! Make sure you leave those plugs on,” Franklin announced as he backed out of the plants’ all too clamorous building. “Ok Dove, what’s the problem?” He sincerely wanted to understand, for he too had noticed eerie things happening. He needed clarity, a definition of understanding, and of course she was there all day alone. 

As she waited for him to move, Dove rammed herself onto their bed and stuffed her body on top of the covers while trying to keep her head together. Her heart raced as she looked around, promising no more frightening shadows were in sight. Or listening to her conversation. “Franklin,” she tried first appealing to his intellect, “I don’t want to be in this house any longer. It’s uncomfortable.” When that approach didn’t get an immediate response, “Franklin,” Dove continued more forcefully, “It’s looking at me. The house is looking at me. It’s watching me,” she pleaded. “There are shadows, things, noises! I can’t stand it! I see them everywhere, I don’t like it, I don’t like it here.” 

“Dove,” was all he could strangle out. 

“No. No Franklin. If I stay another minute in this house, I will go mad.” She let that tidbit sink in. The phone connection was silent. “Franklin? Frank?”

Franklin went silent. “Dove, it’s just a house,” he tried convincing her. But he knew, he knew she also knew. He had sensed something creepy as well, just didn’t think he’d noticed it, maybe didn’t want to acknowledge it, but yeah, something wrong was going on. Something was wrong with that blasted house. He had promised his Uncle they would fix up. That was the plan. Fix it up as a favor, sell it, split the proceeds 80/20 for a better place. That made Dove happy originally knowing then they could afford the little place they had dreamed of last year. That was the plan. It was a good plan. It was.

“No!” Dove repeated firmly. “It’s not just a house! It’s, it’s everything, it’s everywhere! Franklin! This house, it watches me, everywhere! In the basement, in the kitchen! Franklin, in the god damn shower!” That got his attention. That was as close to creepy as it would get for Franklin. As much as Dove was concentrating on the phone, she also scanned the room. “No more. I can’t do this anymore. It’s creepy here, something’s wrong here. This place is not right.  It’s beginning to get like a shi  .“

“I’ll come home. It’s okay,” he cut her off. “Give me a couple hours to sort things out here. I’ll be home. We’ll talk. It’ll be okay.” Promising and calming Dove, getting her to subside a bit, Franklin ended the call, closed his eyes, breathed in heavily, finally admitting the house, that house was indeed a problem. A huge freaking problem. A problem he had to deal with, just like everything else right now he had to deal with. Making more calls, signing off on orders, rearranging and arguing with production managers, Franklin made it clear he was going home for the day. Early. To deal with that house. Maybe not. He would check Dove’s current mood, talk with her, then make a decision. Filled with fear of making a dreadful mistake, Franklin waffled. Still he had to go home, to that blasted mess of a house.

Dealings of that day dealt with, Franklin and Dove settled into a calmer, steadier albeit slightly downcast mood. Franklin took the rest of the week off, and both arranged themselves into a swift routine of mutual breakfasts, restoring and refinishing older sections of the house, and carry out for dinners. Still with menacing and threatening shadows lurking around corners, a much needed quieter unity now settled over the place, and both Dove and Franklin as well. 

It didn’t last long enough. The electricity went out again. Too often it seemed.

“Franklin, turn the heat up! It’s freezing in here!” Dove yelled from the kitchen.

“Heat’s off again!” he yelled back. “Grab a sweater! Get one for me too, would ‘ya!”

Hammering away on loose boards against a tight stairway, Franklin reached behind him for the remaining nails. Should he use the flooring nails, or the cut nails? Instead, he just reached for whatever was behind him, and as he did, so too did the icy hand which reached out to touch his. Feeling the instant frostiness, instinctively knowing it couldn’t be Dove’s, Franklin yanked his hand away, while alarmingly pivoting his head. As he did so, his balance was so severely lost and Franklin spiraled and tumbled down the cracked stairs to land with a thud! The crash was heard five miles away. His hip, elbow and side leg was going to pain him for an entire week or three. And he tried to right himself  while unclenching his jaw. “Oh, what the hell, for crap’s sake was that about?” he groaned. His movements slowed, and his vision spun and blurred.

“Franklin?!” yelled Dove from the kitchen. She ran, spilling the coffee off the counter. And slipped. Or rather was pushed. Gently of course. “Ugh. Son of a ...,” Dove began. Then remembering, “Franklin?!” Slowly she turned, picking herself up and wiped her wet coffee stained palms down her jeans.

“I’m okay,” he guessed dazed, simply too stunned to think of anything else to say, and looked up the stairs. A shadow drifted off. He thought he saw a shadow drift off. Between witnessing himself move off the ground, cradling his hands, and gazing toward the top of the stairs, “I guess I’m ok,” he reiterated. Looking at her soiled, wet pants, “What happened to you?” he asked

“I fell.” 

Franklin could only look on in befuddlement, with a slight dawning of dread.

Looking him over, “Now do you believe me?” Dove asked for confirmation. She wrapped her wet blue sweater closer. “Franklin?” He continued to look up the stairs. “It’s this house Franklin. It’s something here. Here. I feel so, so..” Dove could not continue her strange thought, only to relay to the cool, dispassionate air, “So much sorrow. So much loss and regret. I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow.” Franklin stopped his upward gaze and simply stared at her aghast. An atmosphere of sorrow? He tried fathoming what she was talking about. Dove continued to stand and stare into nothingness. Franklin continued to stare at Dove. 

He felt somewhat, perhaps all was already lost. His thoughts now had turned into a confirmation of sorts. This was not the Dove he knew and loved. His Dove was strong, bold and independent. This Dove was becoming frail, skittish and scared. Her thoughts were turning inward lately, while trying to retain some control over her life, her mind. But her sorrow, yes her sorrow was akin to breathing in an atmosphere of sorrow. Franklin tried rescuing her. 

Making light of the situation, “Yeah, yeah,” Franklin admitted explaining. “Something touched me.” His speaking aloud made Dove to suddenly turn toward him snapping out of her own dismal thoughts. He continued, “It was something icy cold but I knew it wasn’t you. I guess I just freaked and moved too fast, and fell. I, I don’t know.” He rubbed his neck and back of his head for soreness. His leg hurt the most, a lump was forming. But he knew otherwise. It was definitely the house or whatever remained of its’ previously previous owners. Or something to that effect. He couldn’t sort it out. Didn’t want to. A feeling of direness overcame him, and again Franklin changed the subject, grabbing Dove’s hand. “Let’s eat. Indian? Italian? What do you feel like? You like sushi right? Let’s get that. I’ll order your favs, you get changed. It’ll be here in no time.” 

He was too afraid to ask how she fell.

Another day, another night. More shadows, More noises, more of the same upsetting, unsettling feelings passed between them and the house. They both had thought this night or that night would be their last night here. Neither made any attempt to move. Until one particular night late in the evening.

“Franklin?” whispered Dove. They had just settled in bed for an hour or so. “Franklin?” and she gave his arm a little nudge. Nothing. She waited. Dove cuddled down further in bed, squeezing herself closer to the heat of Franklin’s sleeping body. Try at she may, sleep wouldn’t come. Hearing noises, ticks, rattlings and other sounds she couldn’t place, Dove tried in vain to reconcile her restlessness with something other than the obvious. The house was unhappy. Rather quite unhappy. The emotional feeling was solid and freely roaming throughout.

As Dove nervously lay there listening to the unpleasant noise of unhappiness, of sorrow and dread, she twisted her body in such a way to look behind herself. A foreboding darkness surrounded her. And again she pleaded whispering, “Franklin?” while bumping him squarely on the arm. “Franklin.” Slowly his eyes opened. “I feel like there’s a big ball of badness coming.”

Upon seeing Dove awake and in a half crouching position, “What?” Franklin was half asleep and confused, however sensing her direness, her grief, pain and doom. “Dove?” again her asked. Turning, twisting and sitting up to touch her face, her arm, Franklin noticed what she was looking at. “What the..” He had to twist around in bed to look up and behind. 

Franklin always had the witless idea to place the head of any bed nearest the door. It was a dumb idea, a dumb thing to do. They always say never place your back toward the entrance of a door, you can’t see what’s coming. Well, again he had placed the foot of the bed facing the opposite wall and the head toward the door. Brainless. Dorky she would call it. He would admit for a long time the idea was dumb. 

Looking behind and up, Franklin could swear a pitch solid black silhouette of a man stood by the head of the bed. Only about three feet away. And stared down. There were no eyes this time, but they knew a stare even when it couldn’t be seen. Dove stared back parting her mouth just a little, letting her frosty breath come and go of its own volition. In, out, in, out. She dragged the covers closer forward, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the silhouette. 

“Close your eyes,” Franklin ordered. “Dove, close your eyes.” She couldn’t. Franklin felt her emotional dread, heartache and sorrow accost him all at once. He suddenly what it was to breathe an atmosphere of sorrow.

Grabbing Dove by both arms, “Look at me,” Franklin sternly directed. “Only look at me. Dove!” She did. “Don’t look at it,” commanded Franklin. “Keep your eyes on me. Only on me.” And Dove did. She never looked again in front of her. Continuing to stare only at Franklin however, Dove would never let go of the panic, the fright, the pain of the apparition. She also would never see the shadow blink, the unseen eyes glow, fading in and out of the dark, and never would see the shadow emit such loss, such wretchedness and torment of remorse. She never saw when it dissipated and left. But she did see Franklin, she saw his eyes, the bright gray light reflecting back everything which was good, kind and connected to her own. And she stayed that way for a very long time. 

After what seemed like a perpetual eternity, Dove’s eyes closed. And when they opened again, she was cradled against Franklin’s body, wrapped up warm in a multitude of blankets. And Franklin, still awake and alert. 

Smiling up at him, the phantom boogieman of last night long from her mind, Dove had the mindset to get up and make them both fresh coffees. “How about some coffee? I”ll make so .. “

“Pack your things,” Franklin earnestly stated. Dove’s look of surprise began a panic anew which was long forgotten again. Again he reiterated, “We’re leaving. Now. No coffee, no nothing. Pack your things, and whatever you want. We’re going.” Dove’s slow apprehension turned quickly to a fluster.

“But,” she stammered. “Raphael? What about Raphael?”

Flinging back heated covers, “I’ll tell my Uncle we don’t have the funds anymore to fix this place up. It’s no big deal. It’ll be fine.” Franklin leaned forward pressing his palms into the mattress, “Look Dove, I’ve been thinking. I thought all night. There’s something up with this place. Shadows, cold spots, unexplained noises. Actual spectres now? It’s getting to both of us. It’s weird. This place is too weird. I don’t want to say haunted, but. We need to leave.”

So he could tell, he could feel it too, he could. It was a welcome confirmation to Dove. A little elation, a little excitement, both permitting her mood to swing in a more positive direction, her cheeks heated, face and neck seeming to flush. With renewed spark of energy, Dove almost fell off the bed while detangling her feet from the mess of covers. “Ok,” she settled on. Just, “Ok!” And her mood rejoiced. Dove sprang into action.

No noise from downstairs that morning, no shadows popping round corners, no visions of strange basement men in beige suits smiling after her, Dove set about dumping clothing into duffle bags, folding towels and bagging up toiletries. Sifting through unknown drawers. Franklin boxed up books, kitchenware and car paraphernalia. The day jubilantly went by. Dove was even more blithe and enchanted while setting aside little trinkets and jewelry from the house she had found which agreed with her clothing choices and suited her mood. But the day also dragged on ‘till almost dusk.

The car packed full, bottles of water settled in cup holders, Franklin shut the trunk of the Pinto with a slam. Dove being almost elated, had just one last look behind her as Franklin encased himself within his seat belt, shutting the car door and turned over the engine. “Franklin,” she stated. He didn’t want to hear it. He knew what she would say. He himself had felt the pull from the house behind him. The pull and weight of anguish and distress the house sent off. He felt it come hurtling towards him, towards them. He wanted to get away now.

“Franklin,” Dove mentioned merely as a fact, “The house, there’s a something in the window. Franklin? Do you see it? Should we stay?” And as Franklin refused to look back, “Maybe we should stay,” Dove mildly suggested. It wasn’t a question. 

“No.” was the firm statement Dove was handed. “Buckle up. Let’s go. Don’t look back.” She didn’t. But still she was frightened not too. The car’s motor sputtered and sparked then finally thundered to life. It sped off. The road underneath tires crunched and battered noisily.

The driveway wasn’t long, just filled with dust and gravel. Their hearts weren’t breaking, just tired filled with regret, but also the need to escape and break free. The dusk encased them, twilight loomed, the house beckoned. The dusk, twilight and all encompassing night turned into ...

“Franklin look out!” screeched Dove, “Ahh!” as the vision swiftly bolted in front. “Franklin! It’s!, Its! No, Franklin!” as she shrieked over and over and over. She desperately tried to free herself from the strangling belt buckle. By now Dove was lost in her own screams and howls as night, cloud, dust and mist enveloped her. Those beautiful screams mingled and mixed with the beautiful vintage jewelry she carelessly stole and packed away.

Gritting his teeth, Franklin forcefully cranked the wheel to the left, while slamming on the brakes careening the front end into a pile of thickly placed trees. The sound and squash of the hood was solid and deafening. A flash blinded him. Hands grabbed for him. The smell of densely packed dirt and night and sulfur and decay splayed around them.

“Dove!” Franklin shouted, “Dove! Where are you?! Dove!” He was blinded for eons. “No!, No!, Dove!” he screamed over and over till there were no more of his own screams left to hear. 

When calls were left unanswered, when the ringing of the doorbell issued no response, when their car was later found, there were no answers to a multitude of questions. The sturdy little Pinto smashed against trees, woods extensively searched, unfinished house remodeling left abandoned, Franklin’s Uncle had no choice but to give up, and let the two young starlights go. 

No one would ever find the result of their screams. Ever.

[kpopcotton]

Stomach Pains ~ Seo Changbin

a/n ~ my gosh, i am so freaking soft for this kid it’s not even funny.  • Genre: highschool!au, fluff, slight angst because he’s a bit of a bully • Warning(s): rude changbin, he really “dislikes you” • Reader Gender: gender-neutral • Word Count: 2.1k

==≎==

   “they smiled at me today,” changbin groaned as he plopped himself down at the lunch table occupied by his group of best friends. “it was disgusting. i wanted to throw up!”

   the person he’s referencing is you. nobody knows why the boy dispises your presence except him. apparently, he can remember the exact date and time when he realized you were the bane of his existence but the thing is, he’s never told anyone about the event. his friends have no clue how you could annoy him so much, being as they found you quite pleasing to interact with. they’ve given up trying to ask him why.

   “i think y/n has a very nice smile personally,” the youngest piped up shyly, picking the vegetables out of his fried rice for the oldest next to him. his words surprised the whole table. it was rare for jeongin to speak up about the matter at all and his blushy face came as a shock.

   changbin’s jaw dropped as he stared at the boy in confusion. it astonished him to no end that his friends didn’t get as sick as he did whenever he thought about you. one of the boys, felix, waited for a moment to see if changbin would snap back before adding his two cents. “are you sure it’s not from mr. wang’s sex talk this morning that you’re feeling queasy?”

   “oh please, lix! i’m begging you, don’t bring that up!” another suddenly yelled dramatically, making an ordeal of throwing his head onto the cafeteria table which gained a few glances from the other students. that was hyunjin, the one they call drama llama. the boy next to him, jisung struggled to keep his snort in as he comfortingly rubbed the older’s back, the rest of them bursting into laughter.

   felix smiled to himself proudly, having single-handedly saved the youngest from changbin’s wrath and changing the topic of conversation so the rest of them wouldn’t get annoyed (seungmin) with the inevitable rants that would have ensued.

==≎==

   it was a good day, changbin concluded. he hadn’t seen you once around the school and you weren’t brought up in any conversations at lunch, though it’s usually him that brings you up. he started to think that you were sick today and that made him feel even better.

   “oh! seo changbin!” your voice came out of nowhere and irked something deep in his abdomen. he froze on the spot, hearing your perky footsteps as you appeared in front of him. he wanted to tell you to go away, but your happy expression made his stomach twist in knots. he feels that if he even tries to speak, he’ll barf all over your cute disgusting pastel sweater. “you’re good friends with kim seungmin right?”

   “what’s it to ya?” he growled, his hands finding their way to his pockets. he swallowed thickly to hopefully push down the knot in his throat.

   “well,” you giggled and took out a folder from your bag. “the dork left his homework in the library and i was hoping you could give it to him? i know he’s got a baseball game that he’s leaving early for and that he’s big into academics. knowing him, he’ll probably freak once he notices his folder is missing.”

   he’s offended, to say the least, that you would state the fact about his friend so casually like you were actually close with him. he’s quick to snatch the folder from you, “whatever.”

   and just like that, you ruined his day. he glared at you when you smiled and said thank you before he stomped down the hall to the boys’ locker room. his stomach started doing gymnastics and his heartbeat was erratic in his chest. out of anger, he presumed. you just made him that upset.

   he found seungmin talking with hyunjin and minho while getting changed into his baseball gear and throws the folder at him. “you forgot this.”

   the two dancers jump at his sudden appearance and look at him. “what’s got your panties in a twist? i thought you said today was a good day?” minho asked, his arms crossing in amusement at the younger’s agitation. 

   “i thought so, but then the demon came out of nowhere and assaulted me!”

   seungmin rolled his eyes, fixing the papers in his folder. “i’m assuming y/n asked you to return my homework to me?”

   “yeah! and they attempted to act like they know you personally!” changbin yelled, throwing his hands into the air. hyunjin’s laugh echoed around the gym lockers at the look on seungmin’s face.

   “that’s because they do?” he squinted, gently putting his folder in with his clothes in his duffel bag. “we have study sessions every saturday for big tests.”

   “you go on dates with y/n!?” changbin’s words draw out a dark blush on seungmin’s cheeks. the other two boys share a look with each other before slowly backing out of the room with the excuse that they’re late for practice with the dance team, though their words land of deaf ears.

   ‘th-they’re not dates, we-we just study.” seungmin slung his bag over his shoulder, his blush darkening. there wasn’t any doubt that he found you attractive, but he couldn’t see himself dating you. he didn’t feel like wasting valuable study and practice time on a significant other. “if i didn’t know any better, i would say you’re jealous.” he snapped, finishing the conversation off by walking out of the locker room.

   him? jealous? changbin scoffed. that’s the stupidest thing one of the smartest kids in the school could say.

==≎==

   it was the second friday of the month which meant it was time for the boys’ monthly sleepover. this time, it was chan’s turn to entertain. chan’s house was large, a comfortable living space his father would say, but it definitely was not big enough for all nine boys and his family. yet, because he’s the bang chan, he made it work. usually, chan “rented” out the entire basement of his home for everyone to set up camp, but today, he decided to host the festivities in his backyard since the climate had proven itself to be tolerable even during the darkest times of the night.

   changbin was in awe the moment he stepped into the backyard. he and jisung were the first ones to arrive, having ridden home with chan in his car. it seemed chan’s mom outdid herself each time the boy said it was his turn. the pool was uncovered and ready to swim in, the tents were already pitched and jam-packed with pillows and blankets, the snacks were fresh and begging to be eaten, and the famous oak tree was decked out in aesthetic lights and a large white sheet.

   “your mom is awesome, chan-hyung!” jisung suddenly cried, jumping up and down in excitement whilst making the older laugh. jisung dropped his bag by the sliding glass door and bolted around the yard. changbin chuckled softly as well, his eyes still taking in the picture-perfect yard though after a few seconds they started following the energetic boy around the backyard.

   “don’t let my mom hear you, sung, you’ll become the favorite.” chan joked, a smile tugging at his lips. he wandered over to the snack table to fill a bowl with fruit, which was mostly pineapple, and started stuffing his mouth. changbin decided to join him, finding a bowl of pretzels to nibble on.

   “cannonball!” jisung screeched, gaining the two older boys’ attention as they looked back to see jisung just in his boxers creating a massive splash as he made contact with the pool water.

   chan laughed in disbelief, changbin shaking his head as he spoke. “well, the pool’s christened.”

   jisung’s head came up fast, his mouth wide open as he made noises of discomfort. he rushed to get out. “cold! cold! it’s cold!!” he shuddered when the air touched his wet skin, jumping back into the pool. “everything is cold!”

   chan’s mom came out then with a few of the other boys following her, her gentle laugh resounding through the backyard mixed with the laughs of the other boys as well. “how’s the pool, sung-ie?~”

   “cold,” he repeated, though he sunk lower into the water. his cheeks were warm and everyone could see they were pink.

   “you’ll get used to it.” chan’s father called out from the sliding glass door, having a couple of the boys help him wheel out a popcorn maker. “that’s what a real man would do.”

   chan rolls his eyes at his father’s words but makes sure to hide it. “of course. thanks, dad,” he smiles while driving his parents to the door. “we’ll be careful, eat well, and make sure everything is shut down before bed!” and with that, he closed the door behind them.

   “wow, you’re brave hyung.” the youngest murmurs, watching the adults shake their heads at the boy and head to do whatever parents do. “if i did that, i would’ve been in big trouble.”

   “my parents are nice,” chan chuckles. “anyways, who wants to join jisung in the pool?”

==≎==

   pool volleyball was fun, and the boys (felix and chan) enjoyed spiking the ball over the net at each other. hyunjin got hit in the face with the ball, jisung got elbowed in the stomach, and woojin inhaled some water, but they all were having a grand time. that was until changbin hit the ball too hard and sent it flying over the fence. they went silent when they heard something shatter and an exasperated yell of surprise.

   instantly, the boys looked to the boy at fault whilst he sunk into the water. they then looked at each other, nodding in silent agreement before training their eyes back on changbin.

   “you know you gotta get it, right?” jisung stated, making changbin roll his eyes.

   “yeah, but i’m not going alone,” he mumbled. 

   “i’ll go with you!” felix offered, leaping through the water and grabbing changbin by the arm. he, albeit a bit reluctantly, followed behind the younger boy over to the gate in the fence. the other boys decided to play chicken while waiting for the ball to come back.

   they stood at the gate for a second before felix raised his hand to open it, though both he and changbin jumped when there was slamming on it. “yah! bang christopher chan! open up, you coward!”

   both boys looked at each other, already recognizing the voice as yours. the boys in the pool froze mid-game to look over at the commotion. felix opened the gate quickly, and you were surprised to see him.

   your shock was quickly replaced with a kind smile as you greated the boy. “hey, lix. are you the one who spilled my lemonade?”

   “nope! not this time!” felix giggled, his eyes turning into cute cresents and his nose scrunching when you pinched his cheek. changbin looked on with an ache in his chest and a twist in his gut.

   “cutie,” you gush, letting his cheek go. “then who did?”

   changbin was pushed in front of you by chan who had gotten out of the pool. “this guy.”

   you instantly brightened noticing that there were, in fact, multiple boys over at the bang residence. all of which you enjoyed to be around. “ah, so you guys are having a party without me, huh?”

   changbin glared at you from his crouched look. “why would we even invi-”

   “yeah!” chan quickly cut the younger off, wrapping an arm around him. “it’s our monthly sleepover. we were playing pool volleyball, but this guy,” he paused to ruffle changbin’s hair. “decided to be too rough and hit the ball over to your side of the fence!”

   you laughed as you watched changbin’s eyes narrow and his cheeks turn a bit pink. you crinkle your nose, “i’m sure he didn’t mean to hit it too hard. don’t worry about it, guys.”

   “but, there must be some way he can make it up to you, right?” seungmin added as he popped up behind the trio.

   seungmin’s comment made you blush a bit. he always talked to you at your study sessions about how annoying changbin’s “stupid crush” on you is and how he’s an “idiot for not realizing he’s in love with you”. 

   “i suppose a date should suffice,” you mumble, noticing how changbin visibly gulps and his eyes widen in surprise. the other boys hollering from the pool. you kept eye contact with changbin as you smiled and shrugged. “i mean, a trip to the diner for milkshakes doesn’t sound too bad right about now.”

[chiauve]

The Man in the Dark - 2

“That’s enough TV for today,” Ally’s mother said, glaring down at her daughter the couch potato.

“But it’s a new season,” Ally argued, but at another look from her mom she paused her program and exited to the home screen before the remote was straight up taken from her and she lost her place.

Her mom had that look.

“I got a call from your teacher this afternoon. She says you haven’t been turning in your homework.”

Because she hadn’t been doing it, but Ally knew better than to say that. She also knew better than to argue that it was boring because adults didn’t care that it was boring just that it was important and had to be done. Instead of denying it or arguing Ally just gave a shamefaced pout.

Her mother sighed. “Alright then, until your grades are back up, no more TV and from now on I’m taking your phone and tablet after dinner. You can have them back in the morning before school.”

That got her attention. Ally spun around on the couch, facing her mother with large, beseeching eyes. “But I need my tablet if I’m gonna do homework!”

“You can use the family computer so you don’t get distracted.”

“But—“

“That’s final, Ally. You don’t need to be chatting with your friends or making videos that late anyway.”

Ally slumped back down into the couch, arms crossed and almost ready to throw a tantrum if she wasn’t aware she was too old for that. Spending her night hours stuck at her homework was a fate worse than death. Unless she could fake getting it done first...

“It’s easier to do my homework at Dad’s work. Can I go there after school instead? Until I do better?”

Her mother eyed her a minute and then shrugged. “All right. I’ll ask your Dad if he’s okay with that.”

“So I can keep my tablet tonight?”

“Fine, we’ll see how things go, but no more TV tonight.”

“Yes, mom.”

--

Back in her room, the door safely shut, Ally flipped through the photos of her recent foray into the basement levels on her tablet, mostly the ones from the bottom-most level. The large, empty room was intriguing in its emptiness; there were slats in the floor for something, and large chains lay discarded. It sent shivers down her spine looking at them even in the comfort of her bed.

Finally she reached the pictures of the keypad with its single little red light. Why was it still active? The entire floor was dead, even the water pipes and air cut off.

What was in there?

While some things remained on the lowest floors, they were items that could be replaced or that were no longer needed. Anything still of value was locked up on the second basement level, everything else below left to be forgotten.

There was probably nothing in that room at all, something was just left on by accident. Like the broken doors.

Or there was something really important in there. Or really scary.

She peered at the photo of the keypad closely, zooming in on the numbers. Some were darker than others, possibly pressed more? But even if she got the combination right, would the door even open? It had been sealed for years now, it could be stuck.

Well she wouldn’t know until she checked it, and she had every intent to try tomorrow. While she still managed to hold onto her bravery.

--

At the BSAA office building, Ally went to her supposed study space first, waiting until people coming and going settled in for the last few hours of work. When things got quieter she picked up and went straight to the basement, creeping onto the first level and then hurrying through each subsequent one, still remembering her rituals of Descent, until she reached the Last Door.

Ally paused in the doorway, faced with that dank, silent hall.

There was something down there. Something locked away.

Her fear crept in. She’d seen enough movies and heard enough stories in her life to know that things that were buried were never supposed to be unburied and when they were only bad things happened. Her fear begged her to go back upstairs, to stay away from this horrible prison.

But Ally took a step forward. And then another. She came from a line of BSAA folk, whether they were tied to a desk or not, and would not back down. She walked to the end where that tiny little red light blazed in this black place. She shone her light on the keypad.

There were numbers and the largest button on the bottom still had the O for ‘open’ visible. Skipping the numbers, she pressed that. Her finger sunk into a layer of grime and she couldn’t tell if the button actually pressed but she listened.

Nothing. She pressed it again, hard. Still nothing. Frowning, Ally began to run through combinations of the darkened numbers, over and over. She’d gone through so many when she began to fear she’d need a keycard as well, and that whatever was here was going to stay hidden forever.

The light turned green and there was a heavy, slow clunk and a release of hydraulics. The door shrieked and then only moved an inch before it got stuck on the track. There was a shivering noise from within that made the hair on Ally’s arms stand on end. She grabbed the door and shoved and was hit in the face with a blast of foul, fetid air rank with rot and she staggered back and gagged. Her lunch crawled up her throat and much as it revolted her she decided to let it go and turned and puked in a corner.

Nope. Nope nope nope nope nope nope...

She never smelled anything that awful and disgusting in her life. The closest she ever smelled was when a squirrel had fallen down their chimney and died on the shut flue and they didn’t know until it started to rot and the smell got in the house.

Something died in that locked room, was still dying.

Tears rolled down her face and she cried, spitting the taste of sick out of her mouth. She wanted to run; she did her job as an explorer and found something she shouldn’t have. Good enough, get back above, now.

She spat again and then froze.

There was that shivering noise again.

Something was moving in there, a lot of something.

She had to know.

Taking a deep breath of stale air that now seemed fresh in comparison to that, Ally pulled the collar of her shirt up over her nose and crept to the door again, her light dancing around erratically as her hand shook. She shoved the door hard and it reluctantly moved along the track, a few inches at a time. She could finally enter and slid the flashlight beam around the room.

Hundreds of red eyes stared back at her. A large pile of rats hunkered in the middle of the room and shrieked at her as her light struck them before they fled, scattering all ways and vanishing back into the dark. Ally yelped and backed out, making sure the rats weren’t following, and then slowly crept in again.

There was still something on the floor, a pile of black and red and brown that wasn’t rats. It wasn’t moving at all.

The smell was so terrible Ally had to step back out in the hall again, gasping and gagging. When she re-entered the red eyes of the rats were back, watching her. She shone her light at them and they disappeared. She took a slow couple of steps towards the pile in the room and her unease began to grow further.

Whatever it was, it was chained down. Enormous chains as thick as her arms criss-crossed several times over the form, the links vanishing into slats on the floor. It was lying in a puddle of red, thick and dried with rat droppings.

It was wet.

She froze and stared in horror. Open wounds were weeping blood and clear fluids slowly, some exposing the white of bone. What might have once been clothes were shredded to near nothing, bared skin so filthy and infected it was discolored.

It was breathing. Or at least it looked like it was breathing. No, it was her shaking light, playing tricks on her. Had to be. She’d been exploring these dark places long enough to know that’s what the dark did. It was a trickster and liked to play, to confuse.

Against her better judgment, she took another step, her light on the bloody pile on the floor. Her free hand raised her phone for a picture, and the flash went off.

It was slight but unmistakable this time. One end of the pile moved, a swatch of matted, filthy hair shifted and Ally was met with a single eye. It was red and reptilian and, locking onto her, began to glow.

The pile moved now, tensed against the chains, and then there was a clacking and a hefty clunk as the chains were pulled down with sharp force from below, several links pulled into the slats in the floor, forcing the pile, the thing, back down violently. The head, for it was unmistakable that’s what it was now, threw back and a blackened mouth opened in a pain-filled scream, but there was no sound. A rush of air and bubbling blood and remnants of dead flesh splattered the floor in front of its trapped face.

Ally screamed in its stead and ran, nearly slipping on the grime. She grabbed the door and forced it shut, putting as much between her and that awful rotting thing as she could, and then she ran and didn’t stop running until she reached the light of the main floor, until she reached a bathroom. She locked herself in a stall and threw up again, though nothing came up but she kept trying, trying to purge the smell, the rot, the terror from her little body.

Ally sat on the floor and scoot into the corner, clutching her backpack and started sobbing.

She should have known better. She should have.

What was that horrible thing?

She wanted nothing more than to run to her father and beg him to take her home. She’d never explore down below again, honest! Just make whatever that was go away!

But she was too scared to move, too horrified, and after long minutes of crying adrenaline leaked out of her and left her exhausted on the bathroom floor, hiccuping.

She finally got up and left the stall, staring at herself in the mirror. She splashed cold water on her face to try to get rid of the puffiness.

In a strange, relaxed daze, Ally wandered back to her usual place to do homework and sat down. She didn’t even pretend to work, but stared at the shoddy picture on her phone.

The flash lit the pile well enough, but the picture was blurred from shaking. Still, she could make out the form now. There was a head, the large hunch in the pile were shoulders, it tapered down to hips and then legs. A man-like figure, chained down on its side in a puddle of filth.

Ally hands gripped her phone tightly, the very image making her shake not only from her experience but from the horrible stories her grandpa used to tell her.

There was a BOW down there, a trapped zombie forgotten in the basement when all else had been cleared out.

She wouldn’t run to her dad, not yet. She wasn’t a little kid. And she didn’t want to surrender her explorer title just yet. This was still a mystery. She’d solve it first, and then be a good girl and tell her dad there was a monster down below.

She took a long, deep breath, and reminded herself to dig out her old bat from the closet for next time.

[lyraparadigm]

Troy Otto One Shot Series #4

Chapter 4

Troy wasn’t a fool. He knew exactly what Arya was doing but he played dumb and walked into every manipulative trap she had set out for him. It was a game of cat and mouse, and what made it truly exciting was that she didn’t know he was the cat and she was the mouse. It started off subtle and really, he commended her for her efforts. She almost had him fooled with the way her glances towards him got more frequent and her smiles prolonged. Her touches lingered as she brushed past him and she never disagreed with him in front of his men. She’d always take her concerns to him in his office, when they were alone.

She had an angle behind every action. She revealed things about her life from before but the way she said them was so very tactical. She’d talk about her Father and her three brothers; how she felt like she had to prove a point to them, all her life – that she was strong and just as capable. Well, turns out she did – she survived longer than all of them. It was amusing for Troy at first – to let her think she had the upper hand just because he was somewhat attracted to her….but pretty soon things started to blur. He started finding it hard to say ‘no’ to her. He had even let her give some of her rations to Luciana every night. All Arya had to do was ask. She had stared at him with those big brown eyes of hers, placed her palm on his arm and had spoken in her most sincere voice, “I can’t let her die, Troy. She reminds me of what could have been my fate had you not been in charge. Please.”

Please. He was addicted to the way that word sounded, coming from her lips.

Troy struggled with his thoughts on where to draw the line with Arya for he enjoyed their little games. There was more to this though – she had potential- they had potential to be something great. He just had to make her see it. He waited for opportunities but nothing seemed to sway his way. Nothing, till the Clarks visited his base.

----

Maddison Clark had a way about her. Troy was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. There was also the added benefit of using this entire situation to stir Arya a little. He was intrigued to see how she reacted. His footsteps even had a little bounce to them as he finished his meeting with the Clark women and made his way down to the basement where Travis was being processed. Checking his watch, he smirked; Arya was down there changing Luciana’s bandages. Like clockwork she visited Luciana at 7 every evening.

She stood up with a curious look on her face as he spoke to Travis. Then Nick piped up and asked about his mother and sister. Troy’s eyes lit up as he watched Arya’s mouth lilt to a frown. She remained silent though, simply watching his interaction with Travis.

“She’s dying.” Travis had spoken, with a morose look on his face.

“Everyone here dies.” Troy snapped, “It’s the only mercy I can offer.”

“Troy..” Arya called but he ignored her, choosing instead to order Travis to take a seat.

She had followed him all the way back to his office. She waited till the door shut before her eyes narrowed. “You gave me your word you wouldn’t hurt her.”

“And I’m a man of my word.” He looked at her pointedly before shrugging, “I’m not hurting her, she’s just dying of her own volition.”

“She’s dying because you’ve not allowed me to bring her up here and treat her properly!”

“She’s weak. If you really want to look after women, I’ve got two in the waiting room. Didn’t even process them – I knew you wouldn’t approve.”

She scoffed, her gaze burning with anger.

“I don’t care about the other women, I care about Luciana.”

“No you don’t.” he growled, “Don’t get weak on me.”

“You’re going back on your word, Troy.” She spat, “don’t.”

There it was, Arya’s eyes widening, even watering a little. Troy’s tongue clicked, “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? It only worked as far as I let it work. I’ve had enough now. You’re not wasting any more resources on Luciana. Not when we’re taking Maddison and her daughter back to the ranch.”

Arya’s entire demeanour turned austere. It was a rather sinister to see the way her rage bubbled till it fell behind a mask of cool indifference.

“I’m glad you have new playthings. They’ll make up for my absence at the Ranch.”

Troy’s jaw clenched as his hands grabbed her arm, squeezing it till he was sure it would bruise her skin.

“You said you’d be on my side. That you’d come to the ranch.” His voice was soft but deadly.

“And you said I had a choice. Are you a man of your word now, Troy?” She was taunting him. It amazed him how quickly he felt he was losing his grasp on her. He hadn’t expected the conversation to escalate like this. He just wanted her to toughen up. He wanted her to prove she was on his side – not threaten to leave.

“You won’t leave.” He called her on her bluff, “I’ve treated you well-”

“Doesn’t matter.” She growled, “I want out. You’re a despicable human being and I’d rather get eaten alive than spend another day in your presence. Now let me go before bruises form on my wrists and you find yourself turning into your abusive Father.”

The sheer venom in her tone surprised him enough to cause his grip to loosen. He knew she had seen scars on his abdomen before. They often spoke late into the night when he wouldn’t wear his uniform shirt and his sleeves would be exposed. She’d seen raised scars on his elbows, faded welts on his forearms…but she had never questioned them. For her to have connected the dots and to speak so callously about it- to insinuate that he was abusive- it stung him. He spent the night pondering on how to deal with her. He had stalked the corridors looking for her at one point in the night; he was spoilt for a fight but it only further upset him when he couldn’t find her. She hadn’t left the base; her backpack was still here. So it meant she was hiding from him. She knew him well enough to know he’d come looking for her and that in itself pissed him off. He was supposed to have the upper hand here but somehow she was the one calling the shots now.

---

Despite an entire night passing into morning, Troy still couldn’t let go of her words. It simmered in the back of his head, quietly, angrily, waiting for the moment he saw her again. He’d show her she couldn’t fuck with him like this. She wasn’t better than him.

“I’m not a bad person.” He clarified to Maddison, Arya’s words still playing in his mind but it surprised him to find that the longer he spoke to Maddison, the less his thoughts revolved around Arya. Maybe he should take them back to the Ranch. Maddison was special. She wasn’t special like Arya was – they were different kinds of special- but he could work with this. He just needed to eliminate Travis and Nick and definitely Luciana.

Gun shots rang loud and in an instant Troy was on his feet, running to the basement. He had locked the door to the waiting room, trapping Maddison and Alicia there. He had promised them he would let Travis go but he had a feeling he’d have to break that promise sooner than he’d like. Another thought niggled in the back of his mind; one that he had to suppress – what if Arya had something to do with the gunshots? What if she was hurt or worse…what if she shot one of his men to escape?

/-/-/-/

 Arya’s brows furrowed as she saw a girl sneaking around the jeeps at the base. Arya hid low in Charlie’s jeep seats before the girl could see her. Arya figured she was one of the women Troy wanted to take back to the ranch. If she was sneaking around then it meant she had managed to escape which, in itself, was a rather incredible achievement. She knew how careful Troy was with his captives. She crawled into the driver���s seat of Charlie’s jeep, careful to not get noticed by the younger girl who seemed to be trying her hand at hot-wiring one of the other jeeps. Scoffing silently, Arya huffed and threw a pair of keys out the window, in the girl’s direction. She had swiped a pair from Charlie and a pair from Mike the night before and she figured that leaving one on the ground would be filling her good deed quota for the year. Just as she was about to start the jeep and get the hell out of here, she heard his scream.

It was instinctual for her feet to move towards his voice. She did it faster than her senses could comprehend- faster than her mind could berate her on how stupid she was being. Then she saw a blonde woman screaming bloody murder; threatening to pop Troy’s eyeball out with the spoon she had stabbed into his eye socket. A familiar rush of adrenaline flooded through Arya’s veins as her body prepared to fight.

But fight for what? Her mind taunted her and she froze in place.

“Where is he?! Where? You said he was alive.”

Arya’s mouth dried out as her muscles tensed and stiffened.

“Back off, wide berth.” Troy screamed, till his eyes fell to her.

“Arya! Get her off me! Get her the fuck off.” He was frantic and pleading for her to help him. So she did.

“Are you looking for Nick?” Arya asked Maddison, with her hands raised. That seemed to aggravate the woman more as she kicked Troy’s kneecap and forced him to kneel on the ground.

“Nick- where is he?? Where is my family!? I just want my family!”

“I’m Arya and I was a prisoner here too ok? I’m not one of them!” Arya placated, her arms still up, “I saw your daughter by the jeeps- I even threw one of the keys at her. I was hiding there all night. I just want to get out- just like you ok? I can help.”

All the while, Arya moved closer, step by step. Just as the woman seemed to ease up on her, Arya tried, “Let him go.”

“No!” She spat out, digging the spoon in deeper. Arya let out an involuntary scream only reinforcing Maddison’s suspicions of her.

“Look at me!” Arya screamed, “I don’t have a gun on me and I’m the only thing standing between you and all these people with guns. They will kill you and then what happens to your family? Listen to me. I’m trying to help you.”

“Get him to tell me where they are. Where Nick and Travis are!”

“I can’t. I don’t know.” Arya licked her lips as she tilted her head, “You’ve seen how stubborn Troy is. He has a goddamn spoon stuck in his eye and he still won’t tell you where your family are…but Jake will. Jake’s a good guy- just let me go get him ok?”

Arya didn’t have to get Jake. The screams and havoc already drew him to their location.

Arya had met Jake a couple of days ago when he arrived at the base to help get everyone ready to leave. She hadn’t had many opportunities to speak to him though, considering Troy always had a deep scowl on his face whenever he spotted the two of them within talking vicinity of each other. Jake had tried to speak to her at first but he’d fast gotten tired of his brother’s displeasing Arya hadn’t seemed very approachable either so Jake had given up.

True to Arya’s words, Jake had managed to calm matters down enough to get Maddison to tug the spoon out of Troy’s eyes. Troy didn’t let up though as he attempted to tackle Maddison to the ground. Jake intervened and pushed him down, forcing him to reveal where Travis was. Reluctantly, Troy pointed them towards the pit. As everyone started to walk towards the pit, Arya hoped to slip away but like an iron vice, she felt a large palm grab her wrist. She knew that hand…that hold. She was very familiar with it. Troy.

Spinning to meet his bloodied gaze, she tugged her arm back with force. Catapulting back, rather unexpectedly, she’d have tripped over her feet and fallen on her back if it wasn’t for his quick reflexes and his arm wrapping around her waist.

“Wait.” His voice shook, “Wait till this all dies down and I’ll give you supplies and a jeep.” He seemed sincere enough to her so she nodded and followed him. She made sure to distance herself from him though. She didn’t want to tempt him into thinking she was his captive again. She wasn’t. She’d break out of here even if she had to kill him.

Arya stood to one side and impatiently watched the Clark family reunite. She didn’t pay much attention to it for fear that it would bring up long suppressed memories of her own family. Instead, she stared at the pit and the sheer number of dead walkers in there. It was impressive. She assumed Travis had killed them all without any weapons so to speak. He must have used his hands or that concrete block-

She was winded as a small body collided into hers. Blinking, she looked ahead to see Luciana had hobbled over to her and was now hugging her. Unsure of where to place her hands, Arya settled for awkwardly patting the woman’s back.

“Thank you.” She spoke with utter gratitude that it caused a lump to form in Arya’s throat. She hadn’t heard anyone speak to her in that way in a long while. Her actions hadn’t allowed for such gratitude from a stranger- not since before the world went to shit. Arya caught Nick’s relieved gaze as he nodded his thanks to her and she stiffly nodded back. She felt another set of eyes boring into her back but she ignored it. She didn’t so much as want to look at Troy before she left. True to his word, Jake guided them all back to the pantry and brought out supplies. Arya had remained quiet as Travis and Maddison thanked her. She hadn’t intended to help them; it just sort of happened, so she didn’t want to take credit.

Jake began raving about the Ranch in his attempt to persuade them all to come there. Arya had scoffed and rolled her eyes repeatedly, till Travis ended up voicing one of her thoughts. Jake had called the Ranch a ‘sanctuary’ to which Travis had dryly responded with, “We’ve heard that one before.”

Jake went on to explain how Troy was different from the rest of the men at the ranch and they were genuinely a good bunch of people but neither Maddison nor Arya entertained his arguments.

“I came here with knives and a machete. I want them back.” Arya demanded after Maddison asked for her guns back.

“I also want a hand gun and a riffle. I’ve been here long enough to earn it.”

Jake took in a deep breath and nodded, “I need you to do something for me first.”

Arya laughed in interruption, “I’m done, doing things for you or your people or Troy-”

“I’ll give you how many ever guns you need, I just need you to come with me to see him.” Jake pleaded, “I know he listens to you. Please.”

Arya mulled it over in her mind. She needed ammo- lots of it, if she was going to survive out on her own. Ignoring the look Maddison was shooting her, Arya nodded, “10 minutes and I’m done. I get a jeep, two cans of gas, five boxes of ammo and I’ll stick with two guns.”

Jake nodded without thought and Arya half scowled; she had underestimated how desperate he was. She should have demanded more. Arya quietly followed Jake inside to where Troy was being patched up. Once the room cleared, Arya leant against one of the bunk beds, watching the brothers argue. She felt herself tense up as she watched Jake shove Troy against a wall. She hadn’t seen him this vulnerable before. He still had fight in him even when he had a spoon stuck in his eye but now, he was completely docile as his brother held him by the collar. He couldn’t even raise his voice to argue. Then Jake said something about their Father sending Troy away. ‘Cast one out to protect the many.’ And she felt like she got it. She saw parallels between her old life and his- he wanted to prove a point to his brother, to his dad, just like she once did.

Troy walked out without a backward glance, leaving Jake to spin around and raise his hands in annoyance at her.

“Why didn’t you jump in? I brought you here so you could-”

“So I could what? Intervene in your family drama? Fix Troy? He doesn’t give a shit about me or you or what we think. You must have figured that out by now.” Arya felt unnerved and uneasy – just another reason for her to leave. She didn’t like feeling sympathetic towards Troy. Infact, she was pissed she wasn’t indifferent towards him. Even hatred was a feeling and as long as feelings were present, it meant that she was bothered by him.

Stalking towards the armoury, she nodded at Mike whilst pointedly ignoring Troy. He, however, didn’t feel like doing the same. As she was collecting her promised riffles, he stood in her way, blocking her exit.

“So that’s it huh? You’re just going to leave?” His tone was high pitched; like this was all affecting him in some way.

“Yes.” Arya growled and slapped his hand away as he tried to grab the riffle.

“This is mine”

“Well now it’s not.” Arya argued, “Jake said I could pick two riffles and have all my daggers back so hand them over Troy. I know you still have the one with the serpent carving.”

Scowling, he shook his head, “Jake’s not in charge, I am.”

“Sure doesn’t look like that from where I’m standing.”

Swallowing his bruised ego, he softened his tone as he leant closer to her. “Listen to me, you won’t last out there much long. Not with two riffles and alone. The ranch is safe-”

“The ranch has you in it.” She barked.

“What’s the problem!?” He blasted, “Your mexican girl is being taken care of and no one got hurt. No one, except for me. So why won’t you come?”

Just as Arya was about to yell out her reply, another scream distracted her. Maddison was surrounded by Walkers, pooling out of the North tunnels. Nick had run in to join her, tyre iron in hand. They were far enough away for Arya to escape- to just grab a pair of keys, get into a jeep and get the hell out of here but then she saw Travis and Alicia drag Luciana through the group of walkers and her decision was made. She would not see the girl die. Absolutely not.

“Fuck!” Arya cursed as she shoved the riffle into Troy’s hands and ran towards the group with her machete in hand. One by one she hacked at their heads as her, Maddison and Nick formed a triad with their backs against each other.

“Expand out slowly,” Arya instructed as one walker lunged at her, knocking the machete out of her hands. Pulling out two daggers from behind, she sunk both into either side of the walker’s skull. Kicking his chest for leverage, she released the daggers and shoved him back into a pool of other walkers. Gun shots rang loud, fast approaching the three of them. A circle of Walkers that had been approaching Arya fell dead at her feet. Her eyes narrowed as she saw Troy standing at the back of a pick up, riffle in hand.

“Hurry! C’mon, get in!” He yelled, motioning for Arya, Nick and Maddison to jump in. Arya watched Maddison struggle with the decision.

“We’re all going to the same place.” Troy motioned towards the Helicopter that Travis, Alicia and Luciana had just entered. That was all it took to convince Maddison and Nick but Arya was unsure. She started doing a headcount of the walkers as her mind raced on possibilities of her escaping the base without having to join Troy.

“Arya.” Troy shouted, “Survive.”

She glared as she was reminded of her own words to him when he first took her in. ‘Survive.’ With one final shove at a walker, she found her feet racing to get to his moving truck. She grabbed onto his extended hand and let him haul her on. Tugging her against his body, he shoved a riffle in her hands. Her response was automatic as she uncocked the riffle and fired at Walkers surrounding the helicopter. Troy shot down the three that were handing onto the landing bar, weighing it down.

“Move, move, move!” Troy smacked the hood of the truck and Mike hightailed it out of the base. Heart pumping wildly as adrenaline rushed through her veins once again, Arya didn’t so much as protest when Troy pulled her down to sit beside him in the truck. As her nerves settled a few minutes later, she realised why Maddison and Nick were staring at her disconcertedly; she was leaning against Troy. Her had his arm around her shoulders, with a mercurial grin on his face.

“We’re all going to the same place now!” He beamed, happy with the day’s events. His smile didn’t fade, even as Arya shoved his chest as she distanced herself from him. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a sheathed dagger.

“Here.” His smile was shy as he pushed it into her hands. She blinked in confusion. The leather casing wasn’t hers but the dagger underneath it was. Her fingers ran over the familiar serpent engraving on the flattened face of the double edged dagger as a soft smile graced her features. Her brows furrowed as her eyes fell to a matching serpent engraved on the leather case Troy had given her. Her cheeks flushed warmly under his inspecting gaze. Gulping, she grunted before turning her body away from him, her head turned to look out at the vast wastelands they were journeying through.

Maybe the Ranch wouldn’t be so bad.