#What to do if the Opera is Closed For Renovations

[thatsbelievable]

[sparingiscaring]

A Masterwork and a Muse

Written for the Secret Swap for the @fallenlondonficswap, I had the honor of writing for @violant-apologia! As soon as I saw your preferences, I had a very specific idea in mind - I hope you like it!

Featuring: Correspondence and Grand Devils Word Count: 1981 Content Warning: Body Horror, (Implied) Death

You know what would happen should this inspiration come to a lesser human, but you are different. That is why your Muse has chosen you, is it not? Because you, and you alone, were the one bright mind among the common rabble to understand the story she was singing to you.

You intend to create your own song to sing in return.

The Veteran Privy Counsellor is looking expectantly at you, as he always does when you enter the Palace and declare your intention to start on your latest masterwork. In his hands is a glass of port, a shaky sound to underscore your conversation- not with nerves, as you’ve well learned by now, but with a dangerous thrill. And with that excitement in his voice, he asks exactly what you would expect him to. 

“What’s your next project?”

You are to stage an opera, of course! But not one like that which had seen you banished to the Tomb Colonies- no, an opera of a different sort. The kind of opera the Directing Dramatist and the Comic Composer had been staging in the few theaters renovated in the wake of the fall that had not been overtaken by bohemians- the style of Offenbach in France, with laughter intended as a response, as lovers sang and dancers twirled behind them. You’ve managed to obtain your fair share of stolen scripts and stage directions from Surface runners and bribed Neathy performers in preparation for this glorious moment, especially since the carpet quarrel had broken apart the only troupe performing the likes of this here. 

You had assured your Muse as much, of course. No one present in the Court of the Traitor Empress would dare miss something so unique as this.

 Mad thoughts of forgiveness do not grace your mind. You are to be sent to the Tomb Colonies as soon as the curtain closes on the one-act Opera, of course- and the Counsellor’s mustache twitches in anticipation at the news- but for a much different reason than your last opera. Your inspiration is wholly, or mostly, entirely distinct from that old news. This is to be your new magnum opus. The orchestra will be legendary with the instruments they will play, with the songs their instruments will sing, and the dancers will be a draw all their own. After all, it’s not every day that a troupe of dancing devils should enter Court for the performance of the Empress’s life, with song and dance invading her silent control! 

Weeks of composing, writing, editing. Auditions last well into the next month and last for hours each day, as you hand-pick only the finest of each instrument, the finest of each musician, and fill your orchestra with one of every sound you could ever need. You take no notice of the looks of the participants, even as you hear the murmurs of a rumored Rubbery Piper in your opera following you at a salon. You stifle a laugh- it appears they won’t be prepared for the sound or sight of your Rubbery Mandolinist, then, with the notes like no other they can play. Or your Clay Drummer, who makes the hearts of all who hear him beat with every pounding of his drums, beat and threaten to burst with every percussive beat. Or the Rattus Faber troupe, who could almost rival your dancers with how they dart across the keys in synchronized harmony.

And oh, your dancers.

They are as elegant as your inspiration had said they would be. Every step, every drag, every trailing leg sweeping in a brilliant shape, it is mesmerizing to watch, yellow eyes daring you to trace their pattern. The Dancers need no supervision from you, and need no practice. They know the motions, the movement, the story you intend to tell with every shape they may take, and they are eager to help you bring your masterwork to life. You had originally intended to introduce the Orchestra to the Dancers halfway through practices, for better cohesion, but the display the Devils put on for you settles it; you’ll wait until opening night to bring the musical performers together with the physical. It is easy to wave off the questions, after all- wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise of the main draw now, would we? 

Your leads question you, of course, as any pair of pompous brats who’s artistry is paid for with allowances would. They question the costumes, the sections of stage they are banned from stepping foot on, the shoes- oh, how the Acclaimed Actress seems to be talented at nothing besides endless complaining about the weight of her shoes. She’s not even dancing in the opera, and she complains? No matter- she can deal with the shoes, as long as she remembers her lines and sings her number and stays in her section of the stage. You’ve promised perfection, and your Muse will not allow anything less. She will not ruin your masterwork.

The Orchestra does not disappoint. They are perfect, of course, because you have only selected the best. Those who complain about the costumes your dressmakers and tailors have crafted for them are silenced with a withering glare, as one should be when you glance in their direction, and fight no more on the issue. You’ve taken great care to ensure the outfits should not interfere with their playing, after all. Your Muse would not have it- and it would be counterintuitive to keep the Rubbery Mandolinist from their picks, or the Clay Drummer from his drums, after all. 

The Piper from her Pipe. The Singer from its Song. Traitorous, to separate them. Traitorous.

Traitors.

The opening night, the audience is full. There is not an empty seat in the entire room. You can see the Traitor Empress up in her balcony box, behind the veil that encased her and the Consort, heads bowed and faces blurred. You’d sent an invite to all of her children - that must be the Captivating Princess, standing in the back, the figure inherently drawing your eyes to her and making the hair on the back of your neck rise. She’d been the only one to accept your invite - the rest had declined, as they always did. Your Muse cared not, of course, and you expected the snub. It was a shame, though. More eyes, more eyes on your masterwork, a bigger audience.

The Veteran Privy Counselor ambushes you backstage, with a trivial issue of budget, and one of the Rubbery Mandolinist’s costumes catching on fire, but you wave him off with a wave of the hand and a roll of your eyes, your eyes. Seems a dressmaker had overstated their competency with the stitch pattern you’d provided for the inside of the Mandolinist’s clothing, and had failed you. Had failed your production. Of course this would happen.

Your Muse.

A single Mandolinist missing from the audience wouldn't ruin your opera. Your Orchestra will still sound, will it not? Nothing will be off, to the untrained ears of the audience. Nothing will be off, to the Traitors on the stage. Nothing. Nothing! No one will notice, aside from you. And what was the Mandolinist’s worth, even?

Immense, you know. Immense.

But no more than any others, you’re sure. No more special than the rest of the Orchestra. No more. No more.

The Dancers talk amongst themselves, in costumes provided on their own, and share glances at the Leads. The Acclaimed Actress is complaining again. Again. Her costar stands uselessly to the side, as he always does, nodding at her complaints, nodding at your refusal, nodding like there is nothing more he can do. You have half a mind to strangle him, but the Unassuming Understudy found himself in the Tomb Colonies two days ago, and had yet to make his way back, and you doubt the man standing before you had the brains required to return from the Boatman with any expediency. 

No, for the sake of the show, you must keep him. And the Actress. And you must deal with an Orchestra playing one Mandolinist shy, one man down, one less than its grandeur was at its unsung height. Something pulls a laugh from within you - you’d have to ask your muse if a Mandolinist fell first then, too. 

Your Muse isn’t in the audience. It is almost showtime.

The Veteran Privy Counsellor finds you again, but you ignore him. You ignore him, and the Actress, and the Dancers, and you look to the curtains and think about your Orchestra. The costumes, perfect, sigil-stitched with perfect thread that should just hold out long enough on the flames for this one production. The Mandolinist was unlucky. The Mandolinist was just unlucky. 

Your Muse will be proud, you’re sure. 

You step into the wings as the time comes, and call for the Leads to take their place. You do not have to call for the Dancers to take theirs. You do not have to call for the Orchestra to play their first notes. You do nothing more than step aside, step away, as the curtains rise, and when the Veteran Privy Counsellor corners you moments later, you simply offer him a glass of port, and a smile.

His glass drops when the Acclaimed Actress catches sight of the Orchestra, and screams. Your heart stops - too early, too early, and is there anything you can do? Can you stop it? This was meant to be the climax! The Leads, the Lovers, they weren’t supposed to be screaming until the Traitor Dancers, the rebels they were a part of, were to announcing the beheadings. You’d planned it so well - the audience, standing in for the royals that were never seen, motions to the Traitor Empress, to the Orchestra, to-

You wave him away as the Actor joins in with a sound that could rip flesh from bone, sipping on the deep yellow honey in your own glass as the Traitor Dancers stop in their step, and fill the stage with buzzing. You don’t dare to look - if anything went wrong in the sigil-stitching again, if a misplaced thread set the Rattus Faber troupe into anything but a temporary abomination of insectoid creatures vying for the stolen skin of the Devils, then this would be a failure in every way, in every way, and in every way. Then it would be worth nothing. Your Muse, your Muse-

No, not nothing.

You’d set the mirror aside just before the Dancers arrived. You’d found the linking mirror almost a year ago, a shortcut to your Muse. A direct line to the Parabolan prison where your Muse lay, poised like a scorpion in wait and unable to break from her shackles. You know not what she played, but you could hear the echoes of it in her body, when she invaded your dreams. You understood so little - but a story she told you, a story you kept. 

Traitors. Rebellion. Correspondence.

You had brought her here, to witness it from this mirror. To hear the story she told you, pumping knowledge like poison into your veins. 

You were to give her a better ending to her story. The Ones-Like-Princes, crawling from the Orchestra Pit, and tearing the Traitor Dances into nothing. The Leads, unspared in your frantic rewrites as the Actress complained of the lead to keep her safe from the Correspondence sigils traced into the stage by the Dancers, as she earned her fate with the rest of those who dared to think themselves worthy of overthrowing the Prince’s rule.

You were meant to show her what could still be.

No matter. No matter!

You taste honey on your lips, and see a thousand eyes staring back, see a body poised, poised, see your Muse. 

It’s better this way, isn’t it? She must agree, must understand. It was better this way! Not just a better ending, a better everything! No rebellion to even begin. No chance something so horrible could ever happen again.

She wouldn’t hate you.

She can’t hate you.

She is your Muse, and you have done right by her.

She won't hurt you.

You step into the mirror, as the Veteran Privy Counsellor storms into the corner closet you’d hidden yourself in, and close the curtain on your Masterwork.

[brokebonewritings]

All My Battles

Matt Murdock x Reader

Tags: 18+, fluff, slight hurt/comfort, making a home

Summary: A trip back to Bar Harbor creates a summer a new memories as you and Matt renovate your childhood home into a place to spend your future summers. Song: Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley

Word Count: 3K

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“Don’t worry! We will make sure both your apartments are safe and sound!”

“And we promise no major ragers while you’re away!” Foggy quickly said after Karen’s initial reassurance.

“Ha Ha, You’re hilarious.” You say with a deadpan expression.

Both you and Matt were packing for the summer to go up to your childhood home and fill it with your own furniture. Thanks to your wonderful team of attorneys, you were able to expedite the paperwork of signing the house over to your name.

It was a long battle, but your mom was out of the house at the beginning of the summer. Though it didn't come without a fight. She was very slow at moving the process along until you finally sent Foggy up to Maine with eviction papers.

"I just can't believe it's finally over!" You sigh as you close the trunk of your car.

"I'll drink to that, serving your mom that eviction notice was the best theatrics I've seen in a while, and Marci took me to see Phantom of the Opera last week!"

All three of you laugh, as you wait to finish locking up his apartment. You see him step onto the sidewalk and make his way towards the group.

"Okay, ready to go?" He asks.

"Yep, I just closed the trunk so we're all good here."

Karen is the first to step forward and give you both a big hug. Foggy being the last and stepping away with tears in his eyes.

"Don't you forget about us here in the Big Apple." He says tearfully.

"I'll miss you most of all, Scarecrow." You respond playfully.

The man wipes his metaphorical tears, and turns to Karen. "She thinks I'm a Scarecrow."

"Yeah, probably the lack of brains." She snarks.

"Hey!"

This earns another group laugh, as you and Matt get into the car. It was going to be a long summer, but it would be worth it. You get to redecorate your family home, even though you thought the previous decoration was perfect. Your mom took most of the furniture when she moved.

As the car pulls out of the city, leaving behind the familiar hustle and bustle, a sense of sadness fills you. "So, any ideas on what we should do with the place?" you asked, eager to hear his thoughts.

"You're asking the blindman for decoration advice?" He smirks, which pulls a giggle from your chest. 

"Well this is gonna be our summer home, so I just want to get an opinion of someone who will be spending every year there."

Matt paused for a moment, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his knee as he contemplated. "Well," he began, "I think we should start by repainting the walls. I know your favorite color is orange."

"You remembered my favorite color?" 

"Of course, maybe a soft shade of blue to give it a more serene atmosphere."

You nodded, imagining how the color would transform the space. "And what about the furniture? I know we'll have to buy new pieces, but do you have any specific style in mind?"

"God, just anything without plastic wrap on it." He laughs.

You laugh along with him. "You really hated sitting on that couch."

"It was an overstimulation nightmare."

"Yeah, well, no more plastic-wrapped nightmares," you reply with a grin. "We'll find something comfortable and stylish."

As the two of you continue to discuss ideas for the house, you feel the excitement building up inside you. This summer was going to be a fresh start, not just in terms of your living situation but also in your relationship with Matt. It had been a long journey to get to this point, but now that you were finally together, everything felt right.

The landscape outside transforms from towering skyscrapers to vast green fields and rolling hills. It's as if the world itself is mirroring the sense of calm and new beginnings you feel in your heart.

With the passing hours, you make sure to stop frequently so that you both stretch your legs. Soon enough you enter the Bar Harbor limits and begin to recognize your surroundings. 

As you approach your childhood home, memories flood back — running through the fields, chasing fireflies on warm summer nights, and sitting on the front porch with your dad and a big cup of iced tea.

The familiar sight of the white picket fence and the old oak tree in the front yard is a relief to see. It hasn't changed much since you were last here, except for the overgrown grass and faded paint on the house. But that's all about to change.

You and Matt step out of the car, taking a moment to breathe in the crisp sea air. The scent of wildflowers and fresh pine brings a smile to your face. This place holds so many precious memories, and now it's time to make new ones.

"I can't believe we're finally here," you say, your voice filled with wonder.

Matt reaches out to take your hand, his touch grounding you in this moment. "Ready to get to work?" He asks and you reply with a soft 'yes'.

Together, you approach the front door, pulling out the key and inserting it into the lock. The door creaks open as you step inside, dust particles dancing in the sunlight streaming through the large bay windows.

As you make your way from room to room, deciding on furniture layouts and discussing which pieces to buy, the house starts to feel like home. Matt's fingers glide over the surfaces as he senses the textures and dimensions, his uncanny ability to visualize the space turning into an invaluable asset.

The next day you and Matt set to work immediately, armed with paintbrushes and a vision for transforming the old house into your dream summer retreat. The walls soon shed their faded colors and come alive with the soft shade of orange you chose. The air is filled with the scent of fresh paint, invigorating and promising.

Days turn into weeks as you tackle each room with determination. The living room is filled with cozy furniture, perfect for curling up together with a book or watching movies on lazy afternoons. The kitchen becomes a vibrant space, adorned with colorful tiles and filled with the aroma of delicious meals being cooked. And the bedrooms become sanctuaries, personalized with photographs and cherished little touches.

As the final touches are being made, you and Matt stand back to admire your handiwork. The transformation is remarkable, a testament to the love and care you poured into this project. The summer home now radiates warmth and comfort, a haven from the outside world.

You begin to cry as you both stand in the middle of the parlor. Matt's arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you into a tight hug. It was all finally done, and you couldn't feel the overwhelming sense of sadness. The very same you felt as you left the city.

"It's alright, sweetheart. I got you." He whispers as you continue to sob.

You hold onto Matt, feeling his steady presence anchoring you amidst the waves of emotion. The tears flow freely, a mixture of relief, joy, and a bittersweet longing for the old memories that haunted these walls. You couldn't wait to bring your friends and family here in the future summers, and make new memories that were happier than the old.

After a while, the tears subside, and you sniffle, wiping away your damp cheeks with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," you murmur against his chest.

He pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face gently. "There's nothing to apologize for," he says softly. 

You nod, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "You're right." You pause, feeling a surge of love radiating from the man in front of you.

"We made it," he says softly, his voice filled with reassurance. "We turned this house into our own little sanctuary."

"I love you," you whisper, burying your face in Matt's chest.

He holds you tighter, his heartbeat reverberating through your body. "I love you too," he replies.

That night you decide to have a picnic on the porch. You turn on the fairy lights, and set the radio to the local classic rock station. As you set up outside, Matt was in the kitchen preparing the meal you both were going to enjoy. Everything was perfect.

As twilight settles in, casting a soft golden glow over the porch, you light a few candles and spread out a cozy blanket. The scent of freshly cut grass mingles with the aroma of the meal Matt has prepared, creating an intoxicating symphony for your senses.

After dinner, you both clean and decide to stay outside for the rest of the evening and bask in the romantic setting you had set up. He notes that he forgot to bring the best part of dinner and runs back inside to grab dessert.

Matt emerges from the kitchen, carrying a basket filled with delicious treats. He carefully sets the basket down and joins you on the blanket, wrapping his arm around you.

"This is amazing," he whispers, his voice filled with awe.

You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his presence enveloping you. "I wanted to create this special moment for us," you say softly, your gaze fixed on the flickering lights.

The two of you spend the evening laughing and reminiscing, savoring each bite of food and each tender moment shared. As the night deepens, you find yourselves lost in conversation under a sky sprinkled with constellations.

Matt's fingers trace patterns on your arm, creating a soothing rhythm that matches the cadence of your conversation. You pause for a moment, overcome by a wave of gratitude. Gratitude for this beautiful night, for the love that fills your heart, and for the journey that has brought you here. You lean in closer to Matt, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I never imagined we would be here," you say softly, your voice filled with wonder. "Creating a home together, filled with love and happiness."

Matt squeezes your hand gently. "Life has a funny way of surprising us," he replies, his voice laced with sincerity. "And I'm grateful for every twist and turn that led us here."

As the hours pass, you find yourselves lost in conversation, delving into topics ranging from childhood dreams to future aspirations. Each word exchanged deepens your connection, solidifying the bond you've built over the years.

Eventually, the conversation mellows into comfortable silence, yet the electricity in the air remains tangible. You nestle closer to each other under the blanket, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. With every passing second, it becomes clearer that this is where you're meant to be.

You look up at Matt, gently grabbing his chin and pulling him in for a kiss. As your lips meet, a surge of warmth courses through your veins. The kiss is gentle yet filled with a quiet intensity, a beautiful reflection of the bond you share. Time seems to stand still as you savor the taste of his lips, the feeling of his arms wrapped around you.

When the kiss deepens, you feel a sense of belonging and contentment settle within you. Under the soft glow of the moon, you and Matt continue to share sweet, lingering kisses, each one filled with an unspoken promise.

Eventually you both feel the exhaustion from the long work day, and decide to head inside for the night. Matt is the first one to head inside and as you pick up the blanket and turn off the lights on the porch. 

You linger long enough for Matt to come back out and wrap his arms around your waist and kiss your neck lightly. "We have a lifetime of moments like this ahead of us," he says softly. "Come inside now."

Nodding, you follow him back inside for the night. Inside, the house is bathed in a soft, inviting glow. The scent of freshly painted walls lingers in the air, a gentle reminder of the transformation you both undertook together.

Matt leads you upstairs to the bedroom, where the moonlight spills through the open curtains, casting ethereal shadows on the hardwood floor. He pulls back the covers and invites you to slide into bed. You nestle against the plush pillows and feel the weight of the day slowly melt away.

As Matt joins you under the covers, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. His touch is gentle yet possessive, a silent affirmation of his love for you. The room feels hushed, as if it holds its breath in reverence for the intimacy shared between two souls.

You close your eyes, letting the tranquility of the moment wash over you. The sound of your steady breaths fills the room, creating a soothing rhythm that lulls you closer to sleep.

The day before you leave is filled with eventful commotion as you invite some of your neighbors over for a small barbecue. You and Matt spend the morning setting up the backyard, draping string lights across the trees and arranging tables and chairs.

The aroma of grilled burgers and vegetables fills the air as the food sizzles on the barbecue. You decided to man the grill to give Matt a break from all the cooking he insisted on doing. The neighbors arrive one by one, carrying dishes to share. Laughter and conversation fill the backyard as everyone gathers around, sharing stories and exchanging smiles.

Another car begins to pull into your driveway, and you realize who it is before you see the two figures step out of the vehicle.

"No fucking way" You say as you turn to Matt who has a huge smile spread across his face.

"I called them last night when you went out to pick up dinner." He replies.

You start sprinting towards the car as Foggy steps out and walks around the car. Once he sees you running, he mutters an 'Oh shit' as you jump into his arms. He catches you and spins you a bit before setting you down. You give a gentler hug to Karen.

"I can't believe you guys drove all the way out here!" You say happily.

"We had to come see this house! Especially if we're invited here every summer." Karen says while lightly nudging your side.

Leading your friends to the picnic area, you introduce them to your neighbors and some old friends from high school. The backyard is filled with the joyful chatter of voices, as everyone embraces the sense of community and love that permeates the atmosphere.

As night falls and everyone leaves, the four of you gather around a crackling bonfire, its dancing flames illuminating the faces around you. Matt sits beside you, his hand entwined with yours, as you listen to Foggy telling one of his infamous stories. You all add in little quips to enhance the story as everyone listens and drinks.

The crackling sound of the flames blends with the soft hum of laughter, creating a harmonious symphony of friendship and love. As you look around at the faces illuminated by the fire's glow, you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

Gratitude for the unwavering support of your friends, who have stood by you through thick and thin. Gratitude for this beautiful home that has become a haven, a place of solace and happiness. And most of all, gratitude for the love that surrounds you, weaving its way through every moment shared.

As the night wears on and the fire begins to die down, you find yourself lost in a comfortable silence. The embers glow softly, casting a warm light that dances across your friends' faces. Karen leans her head on Foggy's shoulder, while Matt rests his chin on top of your head.

"What a great night, amongst friends." Foggy sighs.

"I'm really glad you guys came out here to see the house." You begin. "It's like this house was built for our family."

"You wouldn't have this house if it weren't for your dad." Matt reminds and you nod in agreement.

"To Tommy!" Foggy says while raising his beer can.

You smile as the rest of you raise your drinks and cheers to your dad. A tear rolls down your cheek, but Matt wipes it away before it's able to fall from your face.

"You know," Karen says, breaking the silence, "your dad would be so proud of you right now. Look at what you've built, what you've overcome. It's truly amazing."

The moment is bittersweet, as the memory of your father tugs at your heart. It's been years since he passed away, but the house stands as a testament to his hard work and love for his family, a symbol of the legacy he left behind.

As the night winds down, you and your friends gather up the empty beer cans and remnants of the barbecue feast. The fire has dwindled to mere embers, casting a soft glow upon the yard. 

With a final round of goodnights, Foggy and Karen retreat to their respective rooms. You and Matt finish cleaning in the kitchen and make sure everything is put away before you all leave in the morning.

As you climb into bed, exhaustion weighs heavily on your eyelids. Matt wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his embrace soothes you, easing away the worries and stresses of the day.

"Thank you for everything," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He tightens his hold on you, his voice filled with affection. "I would do anything for you. You know that."

With a final sigh, you surrender to the gentle embrace of slumber, knowing that tomorrow will bring new adventures and challenges. But for now, in this haven of love and sanctuary, you find solace.

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[lgbtmi]

Vampire Haven: Addison's Edition

inspired by this post from the lovely @gorbalsvampire and a healthy amount of brainrot for specifically my Vampire: the Requiem Nosferatu Addison, I am here to do a presentation into her living space and all its problems <3 If you want to do this, see this as your invite <3 Tag me in your posts, let me look at where your vampires live!! If this is fun I might do this for my other kids also <3

art made by the inimitable @crownedinmarigolds (yes a piece of this shall be on everything all of the time if it's about addie now xoxo <3)

Location

Addie lives on 52nd street, between 6th and 7th avenue in Brooklyn, New York. Half a mile away from Sunset Park. She lives in Brooklyn because Brooklyn was more affordable than Manhattan, while being a simple commute into the heart of the city that never sleeps.

Haven Type

Her haven is a weak excuse for a studio apartment. The building was renovated a while ago, with one normal sized apartment being turned into three... boxes. That would be the best way to describe it. A living room with kitchenette, with window facing outside!, a bathroom that barely fits a shower, sink and toilet, and a bed in a room, but it's more a closet than anything else. Addie was never meant to spend prolonged periods in her haven though, with the vast majority of her life lived across the bridge in Manhattan, so it works for her. Worked for her. The legality of the 'apartment' is questionable, but we're ignoring that <3

Protection

The apartment is not the best place to live, protection wise. She takes care herself to not let kindred know where she lives, although that is more a shame thing than an attempt at protecting herself. The safest place without sunlight in the space is what was once a closet, where she's gathered a pile of blankets to lie on when day breaks. There have been multiple evenings where she's woken up to a fallen tower of shoes over her, but that's better than being roasted by sunlight!

Decoration

Remember when I said Addison's apartment is filled with problems? This is where it shows. Because she was never meant to spend prolonged periods of time in her apartment, it's started to look a bit like a hoarder home. Pretty much every surface is covered with scripts, markers, playbills, notes, papers for note taking, or books. The few areas that are still "clear" include one specific corner of a 'dining table' (it's more a small desk with two chairs, but ssh) and the only reason it's no longer covered in paper is because she's crumpled most of the papers up and chucked them at her sire out of anger in her early requiem. The only actual locations that are free from the paper curse, are a small cupboard in which she's kept minuscule keepsakes. A set piece from Dear Evan Hansen, an outfit she was meant to wash and return before the Phantom of the Opera performance she never showed up to. Small trinkets she's gotten from fellow cast, crew, and her girlfriend. It's closed and there's no glass to look through. Addison knows it's there, and that's good enough for her. The bed'room' is unused, has been unused since her embrace. The bed's nothing but a mattress anymore, stripped bare of blankets and such, and functioning as yet another surface for papers (albeit a bit more important ones.) The decor of her space is basically just a constant reminder of everything she's lost with her embrace. Not on purpose, but it turned out that way. She can't find the time or energy to Marie Kondo the papers into the trash, so she pretends to not see them. As for further decor: most her furniture is second hand, a big part lifted straight from the New York City sidewalk. A ragtag chaos that for many people would serve a desperate nightmare. But it's hers. For now. For however long that's going to last.

[dollycas]

You Feta Watch Out (Grilled Cheese Mysteries) Cozy Mystery 5th in Series Setting - Vermont Publisher ‏ : ‎ Beyond the Page Publishing (October 16, 2024) Paperback ‏ : ‎ 192 pages ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1960511955 ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1960511959 Kindle ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0DJ9LRCL2 Humbug! leads to Homicide! in the new Grilled Cheese Mystery by Linda Reilly . . . Christmas in the close-knit community of Balsam Dell promises to be especially festive for Carly Hale this year when a prominent theater company comes to town to stage A Christmas Carol. But it turns out that Scrooge is not the most ill-tempered character in the production, as blowhard actor Prescott Lennon proves when he begins berating everyone else in the cast for their poor theatrics. When his arrogant behavior threatens the production, someone decides to resolve matters with a fatal solution—and frames Carly’s friend Gina for the murder. With such an unlikable victim, Carly finds herself faced with a long list of suspects, including a grieving widow who hasn’t shed a tear, an ambitious understudy looking for his big break, and all the cast members Lennon mistreated. But there’s a ghost of a clue in the air as rumors begin to surface that the dead man had a shady past that may have come back to haunt him. With her friend still on the hook, Carly will have to sort out past misdeeds from those of the present, even as her pursuit of the killer scares the dickens out of her . . . Dollycas's Thoughts A theater company will be performing A Christmas Carol at the Flinthead Opera House in Balsam Dell this holiday season. Prescott Lennon appears to have been cast for the wrong part, instead of Marley, he should be playing Scooge although the man is even worse than Scrooge. He rebukes nearly every member of the cast and crew and basically everyone he meets. He must have pushed somebody too far because the man was found dead in his dressing room. Sadly the evidence points to Carly’s friend Gina as the killer but Carly knows she is being set up. With a theater full of suspects Carly has plenty of people to grill. Then she learns that it may be someone from the victim's past that did him in. Carly is going to hold everyone's feet to the fire to prove Gina's innocence but she may die trying. ____ I really enjoy the characters Ms. Reilly has created for this series, they feel like old friends. Carly has a huge heart and loves serving up grilled cheese to the masses.  Ari and Carly are getting their new home all decked out for the holiday but aren't getting too much wedding planning done. Hopefully, after the holidays, they will start to firm things up. Carly is surrounded by a great staff who are also friends. Her former assistant manager and new grill cook, Valerie recently married the chief of police, Fred Holloway. Her new assistant manager Nina is getting comfortable in her new job.  Server Suzanne, the proud mom of nine-year-old Josh, rounds out the crew and isn't afraid to throw her two cents in on any topic.  Carly's BFF Gina was in hot water after being cast as a caroler in the A Christmas Carol production but her stationary store has a huge order of invitations for a "fancy-schmancy" New Year's Eve party to keep her busy and her boyfriend Zach to lean on. Carly's sister Norah even lent a hand in Carly's investigation. A big treat in this story was that former grill cook and friend Grant was home for the holidays and asked to work and he was definitely needed. All the characters feel true to life and grow in realistic ways. The "magnificent" Flinthead Opera House had been a dilapidated farmhouse when Nate Carpenter's family undertook its huge renovation. It is an interesting location for a murder with its massive and confusing layout of rooms, hallways, the stage, and many exits. How did the killer do what they did and get away unseen? Did they blend in? or did they sneak out in the chaos? Carly did her best to follow each clue and get answers to her questions. Her observation skills are excellent but putting what she has seen into context took a bit. Eatery regular and publisher of the town's free paper, Don Frasco is always a good source for information. A piece of evidence by Norah moved the case along but it didn't reveal the murderer. That came later and both Carly and I were surprised. Nicely plotted Ms. Reilly. As always the offerings at the Grilled Cheese Eatery make my mouth water. This time there was an unusual sandwich that was very fitting for the Christmas season. In Scrooge's Redemption Nina has found the perfect way to use a typically scorned Christmas classic and transformed it into something so yummy. Grant shows off what he is learning in culinary school too with some festive appetizers. Recipes for both are included at the end of the book. You Feta Watch Out, which I think should be followed by You Cheddar Not Cry, was a wonderfully entertaining Christmas cozy that I just had to squeeze in before moving on to non-holiday reads. Everything about it is cozy, from the small town of Balsam Dell to the close-knit cast of characters and the mystery that will make you think. It is all entangled with enough Christmas spirit to get you into the holiday mood whether you read it in December or July. I am very excited for this series to continue. I voluntarily reviewed an Advance Reader Copy. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review. Thank you to the author, publisher, and NetGalley for providing me with an ARC. Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent About the Author As a child, Linda Reilly practically existed on grilled cheese sandwiches, and today they remain her comfort food of choice. A member of Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, and Cat Writers’ Association, Linda is also the author of the Deep Fried Mysteries and the Cat Lady Mysteries. Linda lives in southern New Hampshire with her two feline assistants, both of whom enjoy prancing over her laptop to assist with editing. Visit her on the web at lindareillyauthor.com or on Facebook at facebook.com/Lindasreillyauthor. She loves hearing from readers! Also written by Linda Reilly Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. Receiving a complimentary copy in no way reflected my review of this book. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.” “As an Amazon Associate, I earn a commission from qualifying purchases.” Read the full article

[engbergsinfinland]

Happy New Year!

Hello, all!

It's been a week+ since I posted last, but there is good reason! We've had Christmas in Finland, two nights and one day in Paris, a long flight to the US, and now fours days so far in Albuquerque, which have been chock-full!

I will just do a quick run-through of our last week -- and then, once we're back in Finland after the 6th of January, I will resume the twice-weekly posts (well, twice-weekly is the goal, as you know, haha).

We had a very nice Christmas Eve Day in Tampere, with Cece getting to play with her friend Lyra in the morning, followed by a family outing to the cemetery, which is customary for Finns to do on Christmas Eve, to set candles by their loved ones' graves. It is a beautiful sight, with all of the candles gleaming in the snow. There were a lot of people there, while we were walking around at sunset. Once we got home, probably around 4:30, we had our usual Christmas Eve fare, posole, but we did not have a key part of our typical Christmas Eve meal: tamales. It truly was a bummer not to have that delicious part! After dinner, the kids and I watched some of the New York City Ballet's Nutcracker -- and then, wait, what? A ring at the doorbell?? It was Joulupukki (Santa!), live and in the flesh, at our apartment! The kids sang the Joulupukki song and he gave them some gifts and then he took a few cookies to go, because h was about to embark on a very long night.

On Christmas morning, the kids were up rather early, but not too early --everything in Finland feels early when it doesn't get light until 9:30 a.m.! We had a lovely time opening presents and then we enjoyed a leisurely brunch of french-toast casserole, "Lori eggs" (oven baked eggs, following my cousin's recipe), and fruit salad. After brunch, it was time to clean the apartment and get ready to leave on a 5 p.m. train to Helsinki -- to catch our flight to Paris! Turns out our flight was over an hours late, so we had lots of waiting time at a very deserted Helsinki airport.

We finally arrived to Paris at about 10:30 and didn't get to the flat we were staying in until close to midnight. We were all wiped out, and even though it had a bathtub, I was too tired to use it the first night. But, you'd better believe it, I took one the next morning and another bath that night. I have very much missed having a bathtub, which I know I have explained in this blog. Our one-full-day in Paris was a wall-to-wall bonanza of walking around, sight-seeing, and eating. The kids and I started off going to a small grocery and a bakery to get a few breakfast items, and then, as a whole family, we went to the Galleries Lafayette to see the incredible Christmas decorations, and then we went to the Tuileries Gardens Christmas Market, where Rowan and I had soup, Cece had a chicken baguette, and Eric had -- a very needed trip to the toilet because he thought his bladder was going to burst ;) Later, he had a caramel crepe, while we were walking along the Seine. We walked to Notre Dame Cathedral and admired its beautiful renovation, along with about 500,000 other people (just kidding -- not that many, but, a very large number). We did not have a tour booked, so we just took in what we could see. We took the Metro from there to the Eiffel tower, and admired it also from the outside. After that, we made a quick jaunt back to our Airbnb and then went to dinner at a fondue/raclette restaurant, per Rowan's request, only to discover about twenty minutes into eating raclette, that Rowan says he does not like cheese ;) Wow. What a dinner choice! The kids and I then went to the Paris Opera Ballet, at the Palais Garnier, only to discover that the ballet was not at the Palais Garnier! This part is actually a much longer story, but suffice to say, we had to make a mad dash to the metro, travel eleven stops to the Bastille stop, and go to the theater there, which was where the ballet was. We were a bit late, though they were very nice and seated us -- and Paquita was exquisite.

The next morning, we flew out of Charles de Gaulle to Dallas -- and I did not really know in advance that that flight was 9 hours and 45 minutes. For some reason, I thought it was like 8.5 hours. Honestly, it felt like an almost 10-hour flight! The flight was pleasant enough, though. We had a longer layover than expected in Dallas because our Albuquerque-bound flight was delayed, but we still arrived home, to our house, by 7 p.m. -- and wow, what a long, long journey.

It has been wonderful being at home with my parents, and we have seen them a lot in the last four days. The kids and I went to the St. James Tea Room with my mom on Sunday, as this has become a Christmas tradition for us. My mom and I drove around the city and went past the house I lived in when I was little. We also had a big New Year's Eve Day party today! And, I am wiped out from that! I think we had about 40 people here at our house.

Now, we have six days left before we head back to Finland -- and I am sure there will be lots to share about our time at home in my next post. Until then, I hope 2025 starts off very well for all of you!

[vintagelasvegas]

El Rancho Vegas, 1941-1960

Construction of El Rancho Vegas c. 1941. First resort on US 91 just outside the Las Vegas city limits, the future Las Vegas Strip.

“Tom Hull always boasted about how cheap he got that land, if we'd have known what he was going to do with it, we'd have probably given it to him for free.” - Walter Hunsaker, manager of Leigh Hunt estate which owned hundred of acres in the upper Strip area.

‘39: Thomas Hull's Hull Hotel Corp buys the property from Vegas Valley Development Co (Estate of Leigh SJ Hunt). Accounts of the land size range from 43, 57, and 66 acres; accounts of the price range from $5000 (66 acres) to $15,000 (43 acres). The apocryphal story of Hull’s car breaking down, leading to the idea of the hotel, was first told by D. Ashbaugh, “LV Blvd was birthplace of Las Vegas,” Review-Journal, 5/9/61.

'41: Apr. 3, El Rancho opens. The architect was Wayne McAllister (Los Angeles). Built by Midstate Construction Co (Fresno). Neon signs by Nevada Electric Co (Las Vegas). The hotel was the third of Hull's El Rancho chain in Sacramento and Fresno. Opening advertisement in L.A. Times, 3/30/41, called it "The Caliente of Nevada," and said, "Bring your play clothes" for the opening.

'41: May, Hull acquires an additional 20 acres from Vegas Valley Development.

'41: Nov., New hotel wing and KENO-AM radio station added.

'43: Construction of El Rancho Village, community of housing on 10 acres north of El Rancho Vegas, in Jan.-May.

'43: Jun., Hotel and village bought by Conrad Hilton through Joe Drown, owned personally rather than through Hilton Corp. El Rancho is leased to various different groups over the next five years.

'46: May 15, Will Mastin Trio's first performance at El Rancho Vegas, Sammy Davis Jr's Las Vegas debut.

'46: Chuck Wagon buffet introduced.

'48: Bought by El Ranco Inc (Jake Katleman & partners).

'50: Sep., Road sign opposite from the resort changed from a billboard to the neon arrow by YESCO.

'50: Dec., Beldon Katleman is president of the hotel after inheriting El Ranco Inc. stock from J. Katleman.  

'51: Hotel renovation led by B. Katleman, designer Tom Douglas (“Katleman told Douglas he wanted to ‘get rid of the corn’ but keep the Western character”); Round Up room becomes Opera House, signs on the building changed.

'55: Hotel site for sale $3,000,000, famous photo of El Rancho property east of Hwy 91, appears in LIFE magazine 6/20/55.

'55: Aug. 14, Fire destroys the kitchen & damages rooftop of the Opera House.

'60: Jun. 17, Casino/showroom destroyed by fire. El Rancho Vegas closed. Debris remained on site until late ‘61.

'62: Some bungalows removed/relocated “to make way for new multi-million-dollar El Rancho building on the grounds.”

'63: Remaining hotel section used as Thunderbird West

'64: Remaining hotel rebranded El Rancho Vegas Motor Inn with retail shops through, continues through '67.

'68: Dec. 4, El Rancho’s neon arrow sign removed.

'70: Property acquired by Howard Hughes. Last structures moved off site circa ‘74.

'95: Property acquired by Gordon Gaming (Wm. Bennett), excluding the 27 acres of the future Wet N Wild.

2001: Hilton Corp acquires 10-acres, builds Hilton Grand Vacations Club on the Las Vegas Strip (2650 LVBS).

2007: MGM Resorts purchases the northern property, opens Las Vegas Festival Grounds in 2014.

2019: MGM property sold to Phil Ruffin.

Photos of El Rancho Vegas

Undated, 1940s

Undated aerial, 1940s.

Postcards c. '40s

Parked: '46-48 Lincoln coupe and a '46-48 Chrysler sedan. L. F. Manis Photograph Collection (PH-00100) UNLV Special Collections & Archives.

Fashion show at the pool at El Rancho Vegas, '40s.

Postcard c. '50s

Aug. '74 – the remains of El Rancho Vegas in its last year before demolition. Photo by Arthur Nager.

Sources include: Tom Hull, Noted Operator, To Erect $250,000 Building. Review-Journal, 10/25/40; El Rancho Vegas advertising section, Review-Journal, 4/19/41 p16; Plan Expansion for El Rancho. Review-Journal, 5/26/41 p1; Plat map of El Rancho Village, Clark County, Nevada, 7/28/42. UNLV Special Collections & Archives; Residential Area to be Developed by Thomas Hull. Review-Journal, 10/8/42; El Rancho Village To Hook on Sewer. Review-Journal, 2/5/43; El Rancho Vegas Sale Is Announced By Hull Today. Review-Journal, 6/22/43 p3; Control of Hotel El Rancho Vegas Changes Hands. Review-Journal, 12/3/50 p9; El Rancho Plans Big Expansion. Review-Journal, 7/3/51 p2; Tom Douglas. Review-Journal, 6/18/52 p18; Don Beale. 'Creator’ of Strip Revisits Las Vegas. Review-Journal, 8/20/61; Barbara Lawry. Birth of the Strip: El Rancho Vegas. The Nevadan, 4/29/73; Georgia Lewis. Reality and myth on the Las Vegas Strip. The Nevadan, 10/13/74; Jane Ann Morrison. Leigh Hunt bet on Vegas more than 50 years ago. The Nevadan, 9/11/77; L. Benston. Bennett pulls prime Strip property off the market. Las Vegas Sun, 10/17/2002.

[treluna4]

WIP Wednesday

Another snippet from my AroAceBea fic:

I slip out of bed and pad down the hall in my fuzzy socks. I turn on the light in the music room and shut the door quietly behind me. I married a man who can somehow sleep through anything but still, I don’t want to wake him. One of us should get decent sleep tonight.

Back in Kensington, Henry and I had recording equipment in our music studio. When Peter and I moved here, we had a great deal of renovations which included installing a similar set up here.

I’m not much of a songwriter. I’ve tried, but never really created anything new. Mostly I record covers. Pop, classic rock, Irish folk songs. Even some classical sprinkled in. Whatever sparks my interest at the time.

I record as many of the tracks myself if I can, and sample what I can’t.

I have a massive catalog of sampled and recorded tracks on the computer in this room. I have hundreds of piano tracks Henry has recorded for me over the years. I have some vocal and guitar tracks from Dad. Vocal tracks from Angie, who at one point considered studying to become an opera singer.

Pez has been by a few times and recorded some of the songs his mother taught him. Whenever June visits, we inevitably record something together. And the first time Nora came along, she completely overhauled my entire sound system and created a search feature so advanced it takes next to nothing to find what I’m looking for.

I like to come in here late at night when I can’t sleep, or when I feel like I might slip, and whenever I do, I know I’m not alone. In this room with my headphones on, I am surrounded by the people who love me and they give me a reason to keep going.

Tonight, I’m antsy. I need to move. I need loud and chaotic and I need to stop thinking. I plug a Strat and a set of headphones into one of the amps in the corner.

With the volume on low I test out a few chords, just to make sure the headphones are working. I test it again. There is silence in the room.

I turn the volume up and get to work. Shinedown, The Who, Metallica. I play whatever comes to mind, repeating sections at will and switching up the tempo. I close my eyes, I feel my body rocking in time with the music, and my face breaks out into the first real smile I’ve had in days. Before long, my face is sweating and my fingers are starting to ache. I play until I don’t need to anymore. Until my mind is blank, my body is calm, and I’m back to a place where I can function.

[yonkimint]

So Show Me, I’ll Show You

Part 28.1

This part has written parts with pictures in between.

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When the door to your hospital room swings open, you groan in relief. Finally Jimin was here to jailbreak you. It was great having Lauren, Heeji, and Luna here but they are dutiful bulldogs and you can’t blame them. Your last visit to the hospital had left them pretty traumatized.

Your hopes fall when a man in scrubs steps into the room instead. You had seen him once or twice but you had never exchanged words. In fact, the only reason you remember him at all is because he is white and you thought that was odd, considering you were in a Korean hospital.

“Oh hi,” you say, uncomfortable, when he just stands at the foot of your bed. His head is bowed so you can’t study his face too closely but his presence puts you on edge. He doesn’t respond to your greeting so you push on, trying to keep your tone nonchalant, “The nurses just did their rotations and I’m doing fine. Did you need to check something?”

He laughs. A low throaty laugh that has haunted all of your nightmares. Your hands fist around hospital sheets as a cold chill runs up your spine. Swallowing around the lump rising in your throat, you peer closer at him.Mark’s hair is black. This orderly’s is ash blonde. But everything else… you suck in a sharp breath.

“Hello, y/n, did you get my flowers?”

He lifts his head and all his sharp features suddenly come into focus. He has been here the whole time watching you try to recover from injuries that he perpetuated. He looks pleased. And his pleasure makes you want to claw his face off.

“Go to hell, asshole.” You try to sound menacing, to hiss these words like poison, but they only come out a weak, fearful wheeze. Mark clucks his tongue at you.

“Look at you, y/n, trying to be brave when you’re really nothing but a weakling. A cowardly little girl. You would be nothing without me and you know it. You don’t really think you’re going to fight me, do you?”

There’s a glimmer in his eye and it makes you so angry. But the part of you that has endured his abuse for years is still the stronger part and you feel your anger give way to hopelessness. Mark is right. You won’t fight him.

“Good girl. Now, we are going to go on a little field trip, okay?”

You shudder as he steps around the bed and traces the IV still in your arm. You had been waiting until the last second to remove it so the nurses wouldn’t suspect anything if they walked in but now you regret that choice. Mark has no intentions of being gentle with you.

He presses a palm against your mouth, smiling vindictively as the fingers of his other hand loop around the tubes that have been delivering your medicine and fluid for the last few days and yanks the whole thing loose. You whimper into his skin as blood splashes from your open vein.

“How are we supposed to go on a field trip when any camera is going to catch you dragging me out of this room?” you ask him, hoping fleetingly that he hasn’t thought of this. But he’s been here for who knows how long. 

“My little writer,” he coos, snatching your phone from your lap and slipping it into his scrubs pocket, “You really do try to think of everything that can happen, don’t you?”

You glare at him. You have taken abuse from him all these years and still, it’s the patronizing that sets you off every time. And he knows he’s pushed the right button too because he laughs and pats your cheek gently.

“Oh my sweet little y/n, the field trip is right here in the hospital. I’m going to roll you out of here in that wheelchair,” he says, pausing to point to the wheelchair that sits in the corner of your room, “and we’re going to go down the hall. And you’ll do exactly what I tell you to because you know that I have your phone which means I can either let you say goodbye to your friends or make them think that you never want to see them again. Your choice!”

This is so cliche, you think, hobbling out of bed when he gestures for you to get up, like something out of a stupid soap opera. Disguises himself as an orderly and kidnaps me right under everyone’s noses. God damnit. 

Your field trip brings you to a supply closet on the third floor of the hospital which, conveniently, is under renovation. You can’t help but think that Mark is following this cliched script just to piss off the writer in you.

Now that you’re out of sight of the cameras, he has tied your limbs to the chair so you can’t run away. A gag sits roughly in your mouth and cuts against the corners of your lips. Mark is circling you as if deciding where he should start.

Lauren told you that he threatened to do so much worse than put you in the hospital next time he found you and you let your eyes flutter shut in defeat. 

You choose not to think about that. Instead, you let your memories play like old movie reels on the backs of your eyelids. Heeji’s art galleries. Lauren’s photo shoots. And Luna’s ridiculous seances every full moon. 

You stifle a chuckle. No need to bring on Mark’s wrath any sooner than necessary.

And then, newer memories begin to play and a lump rises in your throat. These ones aren’t supposed to be tinged with melancholy. These are supposed to be the memories of starting over. The memories from after you are safe.

You swallow hard.

The flight had already taken a lot out of you. This was just the cherry on top of a totally stressful, life changing ice cream sundae. At least this coffee shop seemed safe and warm while you tried to figure out if you were going to be homeless or not. 

Seoyun, the barista, had been kind enough to give you the WiFi password so looking up your address shouldn’t be too difficult. Still, you lowered your head down on the table with a sigh of defeat. Seoul was so confusing. 

“Oh, I know that look,” a voice sounds above you. Your head snaps up, eyes narrowing, already distrustful of a friendly stranger in the heart of South Korea. He smiles at you and his perfect rows of white teeth are so familiar, you already feel your tense muscles uncoiling. He presses on, “it’s not your first day in Seoul, is it?”

You glance at your luggage and back at him, remembering Lauren’s texts to go find BTS. As if the butt of some cosmic joke, it seems that they have found you instead.

You roll your eyes at him, “what gave it away?”

He glances down at your luggage too and laughs. You study his face carefully so you see the exact moment he makes a decision that will alter the course of both your lives. 

His hands are full with two trays of coffee and he shoves them down on your table without asking. You raise an eyebrow at him, not really surprised by his boldness but somehow taken aback all the same, but he only flashes his brilliant smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the force of it. He sits down. 

“You look like you don’t trust yourself to breathe. Like you’re trapped in your own brain or something,” he comments. 

You lean forward, reminding yourself to calm the flare of annoyance rising in your chest before you speak. “Jimin,” you say evenly, “do you think you can just sit here with a complete stranger, flirt with her a little bit, and she’ll open up with her whole life story?”

“It’s always worked before,” he chirps back, batting his eyes, that same heart melting grin never wavering. But you see it there behind his gaze. No one has ever called him out on this before and you smile.

“I sincerely doubt that…” you say, trailing off as his hand darts out for the phone you’ve left on the table. You gasp, your reflexes too slow to catch him now, and he giggles swiping through as many un-password protected screens as he can.

“Well, I sincerely doubt that you know where you’re going since you’re sitting in a random coffee shop with all your luggage so, out of the kindness of my heart, I’ve decided to help you find your way,” he says, handing the phone back and gesturing for you to unlock it for him.

Your insides are screaming not to do it. You have to keep a low profile or starting over is going to fail but the earnest look in his eye has you wavering. With a sigh, you unlock the phone and you feel it deep in your gut, everything is over before it’s even begun.

It didn’t really matter what Mark was doing to torture you, just that he was and the pain was excruciating. You had heard a rumor once that after a certain point, the body would stop responding to pain but you were sure now that that was a lie. This was endless.

Your eyes start to roll back when Mark claps in front of your face again. You blink back into focus and your whole body is screaming for relief. He’s looking at you like you should say something to him but you can’t speak, the gag still firmly in your mouth, muffling all your screams.

“Can’t have you dozing off, my favorite little writer, you’ll miss the best part!”

You quirk an eyebrow, inviting him to give his little villain’s speech. He obviously wants to follow the soap opera script so you might as well let him follow it to its natural conclusion. He grins, tracing your jaw line with something icy cold. A knife?

No, you tell yourself, don’t think about that.

“You’re probably thinking how cliche this all must be. The hospital disguise. The hiding in plain sight. You’re probably even thinking that since we stayed in the hospital, it’s inevitable that I will get caught. Which is true. The question is if it will happen before or after I kill you,” he says, “And maybe the more important question is this: why did Mark do this to the thing that makes him all his money?”

The thing? You would spit on him if there weren’t a gag in your mouth.

He leans close, his eyes boring into yours. “And the answer is really quite simple. You disgust me. You think you’re so talented and so clever. Everyone adores you and bends over backwards to care for you and what do you really need protection from? Your big, bad manager and publisher?”

He’s going to keep ranting, you know it, and you don’t want the short time you have left to be spent listening to this tirade. They say it’s normal to disassociate under trauma and so you do, falling into your memories again.

Namjoon had warned you about Yoongi before you even stepped foot in the studio. It still wasn’t enough to stop the way your heart dropped down into your stomach when you caught a glimpse of him in the hallway. 

You had told him after the fact that you didn’t remember this moment but the truth of the matter was, it was impossible to erase this memory from your mind. With all the steel you could muster, you met his gaze. Dark, critical eyes stared back at you, soft pink lips pressed into a thin, annoyed line. 

You offered a gentle smile like it was an olive branch, your knees wobbling while you waited for him to roll his eyes or storm away. But his eyes only widened, those annoyed lips parting in a small ‘o’, color rushing up to dust his round cheeks. 

It made your knees knock together and you ducked your head. What was that? Forget it. If he was going to refuse to meet you, you weren’t going to waste feelings over it.

The next memory spills into recollection almost on top of this one. 

Would it be okay if I came and listened to what you’re working on? you texted Namjoon. 

Jungkook and Hobi were arguing about who got to be Luigi in the next race. You chuckled to yourself, amazed for the billionth time that you had somehow been invited to hang out with these boys again. You had already known they were incredible but actually interacting with them was overwhelming. They were as wonderful as they had always seemed from afar. 

Even, you thought, Yoongi. He had extended a truce but he was still frustrating to no end. What did he mean you could never be friends? He was obviously capable of being friendly and you knew the way he cared for and protected his group members. It shouldn’t sting so much that he didn’t want to be YOUR friend but what could you do?

“Y/n, I curated a meme just for you,” Tae whispers from his place beside you on the couch and you startle when he pushes his phone into your hands. 

“What the hell, Tae?” you burst out laughing, trying to make sense of the chaotic picture before you. He starts laughing too, satisfied by your reaction and takes his phone back. You punch his arm lightly and mutter, “you’re so weird.”

Let me ask Yoongi, your phone chimes. Your stomach surges with some feeling you don’t understand. You remind yourself that you’re just going to hang out with Joon. This has nothing to do with Yoongi and yet…

How is he supposed to become your friend if you let him keep avoiding you?

He says you can’t talk but you can come in.

You’re out of your seat before you have time to think about it more. The boys look up at you in surprise and you announce that you’re gonna hang out with Namjoon a bit before you challenge them to Mario Kart. The look of fear in Jungkook’s eyes sends you into another fit of laughter and you pat his shoulder. 

“Don’t worry, Kookie, winning isn’t everything!”

“Yes it is!” he groans as you walk away.

In the studio, your stomach starts to dance again. Yoongi doesn’t look up from the scratch paper he’s scribbling on but you can see the way his fingers tighten around his pen. He is as aware of your presence as you are of his. When Namjoon points to the spot on the couch beside him, it takes all your concentration not to trip over your own feet. 

You scold yourself for this silly behavior. There are more adoring members of this kpop group to be mooning over. Mooning over? You are NOT mooning over Yoongi. Who said that? Not you.

Anyway, whatever it is you’re feeling, Yoongi has done nothing to deserve it. So why do your eyes keep landing on him as you survey the room?

“I don’t like that lyric there,” Namjoon says, “maybe we should move it down into the second verse.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes but it’s softened by the small smile playing at his lips. He and Namjoon must have been going back and forth over these lines for quite some time. You watch as he scribbles out the words and moves them lower down the page. 

His eyes meet yours and the hairs rise on the back of your arms. He doesn’t look upset that you’re there and that’s almost more unsettling than him insulting you. You press your lips together and search for anywhere in the room to look but him. 

The phone in your lap will have to provide distraction enough. You pick it up and fiddle around between home screens but there’s nothing as interesting there as what’s happening before you so you listen in on the lyrics they’re crafting while you pretend to text the girls. 

Of course, when you find out the song is for E.L. Penn, you spiral. You knew your worlds were going to collide if you stuck around long enough. It’s never been a secret to you that Namjoon was a fan of her work — your work — or that they would have worked with her on the movie if she hadn’t gone on hiatus. 

But you are just an English teacher in Seoul and not the recipient of this song that is making your heart hurt. You can’t believe Mark would hack into your Twitter account just to set this in motion without you. He’s trying to push your buttons and it’s working. 

So you do the only thing you can. You call Lauren. 

When you return to the studio, Namjoon is gone. You knew he would be since he passed you in the hall while you were still on the phone. Yoongi looks up at you in surprise but you only offer a curt nod before beelining for your spot on the couch.

The tears spill out before you can help it and your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi. You feel stupid as you read his stupid question through blurred vision. You respond sardonically and toss your phone onto the couch. 

When he tells you you’re killing the vibe, you almost launch to your feet and run out of the room but Yoongi stops you. You stare at him, mouth gaping open like a fish. 

“You want to what?” you ask, wondering if he’ll scold you for talking out loud to him. 

He reaches for his guitar instead, a sleek, black stained acoustic that you’ve seen in several lives from before you actually knew him. He strums the chords lightly, the sweet sounds discordant in the small space. You blink at him. 

“It’s something I’ve been working on,” he says vaguely, “I’m just curious what you think.”

“Why me?” you ask, confused. He frowns at you, his lips puckering and little dimples appearing in the corners of his cheeks. 

“Just be quiet and listen, okay?” he asks it like a question but you know he’s giving a command.

You smile at him a little too sweetly and then settle back into the couch, pulling your legs up to your chest, so you can rest your chin on your knees as he starts to strum. He rolls his eyes at you but there’s a smile in them that you’ve never seen directed at you before. 

Your stomach makes that weird lurch again and you finally resign yourself to what you are feeling. Butterflies. Min Yoongi is giving you butterflies.

[piedpiperslists]

JJK: Neighbors AU

List of all Jungkook fics under 'Neighbors' AU:

* ¹ - one shot ² - two shots s - contains smut

* Last updated: 25/02/2024

D R A B B L E S

* 6:43 PM by likeastarstar strangers to lovers

Heartbeat by blackswanswriting-blog Summary: Insomnia strikes once again. One night you end up calling your friend, Jungkook, for help. You used to think the best time of day was right around when the sunsets since you could enjoy all of the gorgeous hues that would paint the sky. However, over the past couple of months, that feeling has changed as Jungkook slowly becomes the only thing that can help you sleep when you experience a sleepless night. Now your favorite is between the hours of 2:00 am and 4:00 am. What started out as bouts of insomnia quickly became the most beautiful times.

How to Ask Your Neighbour Out by bluewhale52 Summary: Jungkook has a crush on his neighbour and he is determined to ask her out. If only he isn’t so shy.

Tough Luck by alpacaparkaseok doctor!Jungkook Summary: He’s that annoying neighbor that sings in the shower.

O N E S H O T S

Arrow to the Heart by kidguk s wc~7.8k / gang au Summary: Jeon Jungkook doesn’t understand what the fuss is about the rival gang’s sniper. She’s a perfect marksman, they say, yet every time he has faced her he’s gotten away - quite easily too. Is he just that good? Maybe. Is the real reason, unbeknownst to him, that he also happens to be kind of (it’s complicated) dating her? One hundred percent.

Behind These Walls by cupofteaguk wc~4k Summary: You’re sleeping on my best friend’s couch while your house is being renovated and you have really weird habits like attempting to sing opera in the shower and you keep eating all of my cheerios.

Close the Distance by hearts4joon s wc~13.5k / college au Summary: Two different adults, living two completely separate lives — in the same neighborhood. A guy who’s overbearing mother makes him carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. A girl who’s parents are all too drawn to her younger siblings to even give her the time of day. While the two fall in an unlikely relationship (very unlikely), they still ravish each and every part of one another in every way — the best of attention, the one they both craved all their lives.

Feels Like Summer by badbhye s wc~16.6k / brother's best friend Summary: You only have one question on your mind this summer: when did Jeon Jungkook get abs?

Give Me Something Good by reliablemitten wc~3k / single dad!Jungkook Summary: Jungkook, his daughter, and their sweet dog Bam, are your tenants. You’ve let them into your home, on Halloween will a scare mean you let them into your heart?

Tell Me Something Good by reliablemitten wc~5k / single dad!Jungkook Summary: You’ve started seeing your downstairs neighbor and tenant, the very hot Dr. Jeon. Everything is going so well, but is it too good to be true?

Hours by dawnagustd s wc~3k Summary: You walk across the hall and visit your neighbor Jungkook every Wednesday to drink, chill, sing some karaoke… watch some Netflix. But you always end up wobbling back to your apartment after hours of doing all kind of unholy things. Not tonight.

Keyed by taemyg wc~3.8k / enemies to lovers Summary: You were sick and tired of your attractive idiot neighbor blocking your driveway.

Last Christmas by whatifyoulivelikethat s wc~7.5k Summary: Last Christmas, she gave you her heart, wrapped up with a note saying, I love you. She meant it. This Christmas, you give her back the stuff she left at your place and run into her next-door neighbor that knew all about your love. Somehow, you end up explaining why it went wrong.

Love Letter by whatifyoulivelikethat s wc~7k / university au Summary: Jeon Jungkook gets love letters shoved in his mailbox and under his apartment door all the damn time. You, too, get love letters shoved in your mailbox and under your door. All the time. It could be a sweet gesture, but this is the twenty-first century. Love letters aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.

Mr. Ice by army-author wc~11.1k / enemies to lovers Summary: The boy living in the apartment above yours is exceptionally cold to you, and you’ve not-so-lovingly started calling him ‘Mr. Ice’. But when the two of you end up snowed inside your apartment complex in the heart of a blizzard on Christmas eve, his icy exterior begins to melt…

Neighbors [AO3] by btssmutgalore s wc~6.1k Summary: When your hands are full, a cute neighbor lends a helping hand.

Neighbour by imagniation s wc~4k Summary: ‘You think I can afford a plumber?’ your endearing neighbour Jeongguk has magic hands that fix toilets and make you orgasm.

Snack Thief by astralkoo s wc~6.4k Summary: In which your annoying, younger neighbor has a nasty habit of breaking into your apartment late at night and stealing your food.

Snaps by cryxtal-moon wc~10.3k / photographer!Jungkook, assistant!reader Summary: A tale of you as Jungkook’s assistant while he goes around with a camera strapped to his neck. More accurately, you being annoyed at him treating you like a mini helper and him cheekily taking more than six months to admit he loves you.

* Something in the Rain by x0x0josephinex0x0 wc~3.8k Summary: You moved in next door to Jungkook in a tiny European town to save yourself from a bad relationship and your extreme burnout from your job.

Spidey Spidey by kookings wc~7.8k Summary: Your neighbor slash crush Jeon Jungkook is exceptional at exterminating bugs from your apartment. And also at kissing you.

Spring Snow by whatifyoulivelikethat s wc~8.3k / coworkers au Summary: In memory of you, the one I should have loved when it counted. But I didn’t. I’m sorry. To the backdrop of the black sky and white flakes falling down, you and Jeon Jungkook learn that you are far more connected than you could ever believe. I miss you.

The Garden Thief by lemonjoonah s wc~9.3k / enemies to lovers, hybrid au Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour’s rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

The Underwear Thief by gukyi s wc~10k Summary: Jeon Jungkook would like to make one thing very clear: it’s not his fault.

Tinsel Wars by army-author wc~7.6k / rivals to lovers Summary: You and Jungkook compete over everything, including Christmas decorations. But when your rivalry comes to a head one December, unspoken feelings bubble to the surface beyond the glare of Christmas lights…

Up All Night by moni-logues s wc~5.8k / enemies to lovers, PWP Summary: You've moved into a nice, new apartment but there's just one problem: your noisy neighbour with the voice of an angel who insists on doing karaoke in the small hours. You decide it's about time to tell him off and get a whole lot more than you bargained for.

Up To Snow Good by aredheadedmess wc~5.1k / enemies to lovers Summary: It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

Violet Hair & Lip Rings by hazytaezy s wc~4.3k Summary: Jungkook wasn’t expecting much when he moved into the neighborhood. But then you came blazing into his life.

Won't You Be My Neighbor [AO3] by btsarmy9593 s wc~8k Summary: You do not appreciate your new upstairs neighbor playing music at all hours. Even if it’s good music. Even if he looks like that.

You're My Light by arainbowofchaos wc~9k Summary: Trapped by social anxiety within the confines of your home, your world transforms upon Jungkook's arrival, your new neighbor. Little do you know, he's not just a stranger but a figure from your past with some hidden history. Could Jungkook hold the key to mend your emotional wounds and lead you towards healing?

T W O S H O T S / S E R I E S

I Gasp Once, and in That Breath, I Accept You In [pt2] [epilogue] by inkofyoonkoo s strangers to lovers, FWB Summary: In which Jungkook arrives to your small town to spend the holidays, and you slowly let go of all the ghosts of your past.

Remote Learning ² by hansolmates s Summary: Working remote sucks, and you would love a little relief. After buying a new toy to blow off some steam, you’re baffled when you can’t cum. However, Jungkook thinks you’re doing it wrong, and shows you a thing or two.

Rattled by gukslut s single dad!Jungkook

Standing Ovations and Other Nonsense by vyduan s Summary: “Thanks,” you stammered out as you suddenly realized you had opened your front door in a bikini. To compound your embarrassment, your cat had decided right then to squeeze out between your ankles and scamper down the hallway. “Oh, sh*t!” you exclaimed as you ran after your damned cat in a bikini and dropped your package on the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

What if I love you too much? ¹ [drabbles] by taleasnewastime s wc~20.6k / single mom!reader Summary: Jungkook. It’s only a name you learn after your son kicks his ball over the fence. Before that you only knew him as the hot new neighbour who mows his lawn topless. And though you have no intention of getting to know him anymore than that, inevitably you do. You don’t necessarily fall, it’s too slow for that, but you definitely develop feelings you don’t intend to feel. Because you know men like him, and you know that whatever you’re feeling, he’s probably not feeling the same. All the same, however hard you try, you can’t help yourself.

[thecitythatdoesntsleep]

[ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ]

[Tags & Tw] Slavery, grooming, abuse, human pet auction, implied/referenced noncon, noncon touching, magnetic restraint implants, drugging/non-consensual drug use, vampire whumpee, they/them whumpee

"This one is damaged, paper says. Apparently the physical defects didn't fix in the turning process."

"Shit, mark it down and put it in with the rest of'em anyways. Just tell the man up front to run a deal."

"You don't think boss'll care?"

"Money is money, right? So long as these bloodsuckers sell, he won't give two fucks."

It was dark as the room filled with stagnant silence, the audience waiting with baited breath for the lights to switch on and announcer to appear.

When he did, it was a little less than grand; a well-suited gentleman taking center stage and cradling a mic close to his lips.

"Welcome to the 500th, yes you heard it right ladies and gentlemen, 500th auction of Lifepets."

Uproarious clapping filled the renovated opera house and it took a long pause to wait for it to thin down. When it did, everyone's attention was hinged on the man's every word.

"I'm pleased to inform that because of this enormous milestone, we've gone above and beyond. Tonight, we'll be auctioning off 50 freshly turned pets."

A cheerful response from the audience would be in any other case, a jovial thing. In this happenstance, it was an ugly, terrifying sound.

"They have been trained briefly, defanged, microchipped and magnetic implants have been surgically installed to each of their limbs for tangle free restraint."

The crowd gave slight chatter amongst themselves, 'ooh's' and 'ahh's' being given the more that the man's voice denoted across the speakers. There was an air of impatience, with every minute spent in lingering wait for the beginning of the festivities.

"Each of the pets will start at a low, low bid of $5,500. And the filing process will be a low, set rate of $500 for this special night only."

Large display monitors flipped on behind the tables and chairs that were set up for guests, their image turning to a small string of information about the upcoming, first selling item. All sight turned to peek at it and very little description was given seeing as the pet would be brought out on stage soon.

"We thank you all from the bottoms of our hearts for helping make this possible and keeping our business thriving. Whether you're looking for a caretaker, a sexual partner, release for that anger you don't have to feel guilty for... Lifepets has you covered."

At the 'joke' the man had made, there was laughter of all kinds and some lasted longer than others and each had it's own tone. Embarrassment, genuine humor, some patrons looked at each other with slimy grins that spread ear to ear. Like it really was such a funny thing to tease about.

"Without further delay, if everyone could look at the screens in the back of the building. To get us started right, we're going to drop the initial bid for this first pet down to $500. You could pay as little as $1,000 to take them home tonight."

The first vampire was brought out in the darkness of the stage behind the announcer, their limp, doll-like body being propped up in such a way that it held itself up. Whatever drugs they were given were strong, they couldn't manage to pull their head up much from it's half-mast position on their shoulders.

The screens displayed in large, white font on black backgrounds.

22 Years old at turning.

Blonde hair, blue eyes.

One tattoo, no major scarring.

60 days mandatory training completed.

More bright, blinding overheads turned on and it made the bound vampire on stage want to recoil into a ball despite their lethargy. Everything had giant, shining prisms casting off every beam of light; the reflections off mirrors and glass tables illuminating the room with a dim ambiance.

A gloved man grabbed the downcast head of the terrified creature and forced it's head up to meet eyes with the crowd. A tinge of piercing blue cast a ring in other worldly eyes and pupils trembled in what they saw before them.

Wolves, it was like a pack of hungry wolves. Being promised they can torment and torture without the need to feel anything akin to remorse. Even though they were once human, the modification to their DNA made all the difference. The stillness to their heart and deadened response to their lungs was the damning physical traits that lead them to a life of servitude.

"Now I won't lie to you... The discount is for damage, from what we understand, this pet has a few physical conditions that weren't reversed in the transformation process. It's left ear is deaf and left eye blind. All the better though, huh? Wouldn't be hard to sneak up on this one, hahaha."

The gloved man turned the vampires face towards the near-by projector camera and fingers squeezed into the hollows of their cheeks to tell them to open their mouth. When they did, two gaping extractions were throwing off their bite-line, teeth missing all together to prove their fangs had been dealt with.

"Give a little something sexy for the camera..." The man whispered and shoved a leather cased thumb against a plush, pink tongue. It idly wrapped around the digit and dry, uncared for lips closed in an absent sucking motion.

"Their second virginity hasn't been claimed, though, they've been shown how to do a little of the basics. So you're able to get them put to work right away."

No matter where the vampire looked, there was a seedy, low-brow looking person, staring them down like a predator to prey. Their mind was overwhelmed by the drugs in their system but also the thought of eventually being alone with one of these menacing faces.

Drool now clung to their lips from the unwelcomed finger in their mouth but once it was gone, the distraction was over and it almost made the vampire whimper in distress. They just wanted to get it over with, or stay with their handlers. At least the handlers had a guide of loose rules they had to follow.

The more that the man talked, the more the faces around them contorted with plans of sadistic glee. The vampires vision doubled at times, making the room spin with dozens of sets of prying eyes and wicked smiles.

A particularly cruel tug at the magnetic restraints and the gloved man had the vampire yanked down further to their hands and knees. Another push and he bent their middle down, accentuating the curve of their backside and the spread of their thighs.

Tears built up in the blue, ocean eyes and they were fought back when the leather glove carded through their hair. They would never have a chance of getting a good home or serving a worthy master if they were such awful cry babies. Or so their inner voice told them.

The smallest spark of motivation gave the vampire a reason to arch their back and lean into the touch that soothed across their body to cause them to naturally react.

Impatience started to build in the crowd and the announcer was merely letting them all take in the show.

Bare, porcelain skin being displayed on multiple, floor to ceiling screens as the vampire's lips hung open in the tiniest display of pleasure. Fingers curled into blonde hair and ruined the look of lust on their features; a ringing stab of pain to awaken their senses and widen their dopey doe-eyes. Shock looked so pretty when it was tacked to the end of bliss.

"So... Do I hear $500 for the discount pet?"

"$500!"

"$1,000!"

"$3,000!"

"$5,000!"

A twisted pang of relief filled the vampire when they heard the different voices from all around the building echo their bids. The number went higher and higher and it gave them the smallest sliver of hope. That they weren't too damaged and broken for a master after all and that they'd be able to be sold. They told themselves they would be grateful to even get a home but now, it seemed like it was really going to happen.

The vampire felt the unlatching of their magnetic shackles and instead, the gloved man crossed their wrists together for the plates to lock to themselves. He grabbed their arm and pulled them to their feet as the bidding war started to come to a final climax. Ready to drag them back behind the stage curtain to prepare for their future owner.

"Going once, going twice...and... SOLD. To the guest at table 38 for $16,800!"

[obeymeluv]

The Bros Visit the Human World

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ 

You bring the bros to the human world for a little get-away and they develop some interesting habits.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Lucifer

He’s the restless one that doesn’t sleep well. It takes a night or two to get comfortable and sleep normally.

Lucifer will probably be the first one up. Not only out of habit, but you’re in the human world so he’ll see the sun again

Being away from Diavolo and the responsibilities actually makes him seem like a stranger. Everyone forgets who he is outside of that because he’s so dedicated.

If you’re around a lot of nature, he’ll just casually stroll around. Almost like he’s forgotten what grass, trees, and flowers look like. He loves to spend time in the sun and just breathe the air.

Have pets? He’s partial to cats and well-behaved dogs.

Surprisingly, he’ll be the type to chase birds off of anything half-wounded or put birds back into their nests

At some point you’ll find him on the roof, wings out and sunning

Take him to livestock stores or somewhere like Tractor Supply Co. and he’ll be super tempted to smuggle a baby chick out in his pocket.

Loathes most human TV. Can’t bring himself to be interested until you bust out bible-history related documentaries. If he finds one he’ll take control of the TV, watch it all, and rip it to pieces.

Kind of develops a complex about it. “What would these humans know?! They’ve only been around for, what, forty years? Try five thousand!”

Take him by the coffee shops or smoothie shops to try decadent treats! He secretly likes them!

Mammon

Sleeps easier than Lucifer but has a tough time because the noises are different

If you have an open field or bigger back yard, his favorite thing to do is stand there and watch birds come to him. It surprises him that he can summon more than crows

Boy will definitely throw on a sunhat (or some cool glasses) and ask you what you feed birds around your place. Stands out in your yard throwing bird seed like the birds are starving and he’s got a million bags.

The type to fight squirrels and chase them out of your yard or away from feeders because “It’s not FOR you!”

If you live somewhere more laid-back he’ll feel very restless. He’s drawn to bigger, busier places.

IMMEDIATELY asks you about restaurants and things to do (”What’cha got? What’s good? Anything fun around here?”)

Gets super frustrated by shows like Storage Wars but it eerily good at appraising the value of stuff at a glance. Often guesses the real value of the objects

Show him Antique Roadshow. He’ll LOSE. HIS. SHIT.

He’ll ask to go by places like pawn shops and jewelers to just look at the different things humans trade or want to save up for. Can probably get discounts on the stuff.

Bring this guy when shopping for jewelry. He has an innate gift for appraising and can see flaws. He knows when you’re being played.

Want to be a little mean? Get those chocolate treasure chest coins and give one to Beel first. Mammon might just have a heart attack.

Definitely goes on a rant about how making chocolate money is wrong. (”Why make a currency you can’t spend?!”)

Make the visit special by getting some type of matching jewelry--earrings, rings, necklaces--and he’ll wear it around.

Take him by pet stores where they’ll let the birds out of cages, he’ll make kissy noises and love on all of them. Will definitely try to smuggle one out.

He’ll spend whole days in parks when he realizes you can park it on a bench and feed birds. Birds that don’t always get food!

Don’t show him water fountains. He doesn’t get the concept of people tossing coins in and will definitely try to take them by posing as a cleaner or something

Taking him by a museum is a 50/50 gamble. He’s genuinely interested in the displays and setup but might try to steal something   

Do you have a way to watch The Road to El Dorado? Show it to Mammon. He’ll love it.

Leviathan

Unless you live by some cute cafes, comic book stores, or video game retailers he probably won’t do much on his visit

Do you have a pool? He changed his mind. Might gripe about the chlorine messing with his skin though.

If you only have access to a community pool he refuses to do anything with it

Take him to the beach if you live near one. He’ll ALWAYS go for ocean water!

Because the Devildom is the Devildom, I bet they don’t have Ghibli movies. Maybe they have knock-offs, or they’re considered rare because they’re human world related, but have a Ghibli marathon with him! He’ll love it! It won’t be Ruri-chan levels of love, but he’ll stan and want to buy some stuff

Can you make boba tea at home or swing by a coffee shop that makes a close substitute? Take him! He’ll like it! Levi may complain about it not being authentic but he’ll secretly appreciate it

He likes savory food and junk food so take him by a dollar store and get some cheap chips and sodas. It’ll be interesting to try. Maybe he can make a Deviltube video about trying human food!

Levi also strikes me as someone who would like nachos, so maybe grab him some nachos!

Do they know about the Doritos and Mountain Dew thing in the Devildom? He might want those. (”Look, I’m like the human gamers!”)

Levi runs a little colder than his brothers (by Devildom standards) so take him around to feel on blankets and maybe get one to take back to the Devildom.

Satan

Has a great love for books (obviously) and a great disdain for Devildom bookstores that charge an arm and a leg for human finds. TAKE HIM BY BOOKSTORES AND LET HIM LIVE IN HIS NATURAL ENVIRONMENT!

The type to bring an extra suitcase just for books

Is actually quite a homebody because he has no connections in the human world (besides you), so he’s fine to sit and read his new finds.

Do you have books at home? What are your favorites? He’ll read them, too, while he’s here

Show him some kind of crime channel or crime YouTuber and he’s 100% obsessed. Binges them like Netflix

Will wave you over and demand you sit, tangling your legs together as you lean back and speculate on who the murder is and what happens since most of those TV episodes are an hour long

Loves anything psychological-based. Wants to understand why people do things and how they work. Show things like Criminal Minds and Mind Games. He’ll be SUPER interested.

Do you have cats? You’ll see Satan whispering them and holding them against his shoulder. He’s in love and might be planning to steal your cat.

Taking him by animal shelters makes him a little sad but he’ll be glad to play with all the cats at one time.

Don’t tell him that, to most humans, Lucifer and Satan are the same figure in the Bible. He just might lose his shit.

Does your town have history/mystery tours? Take him! It’s a two-in-one and he loves it! History and culture, mystery and crime!

Show Satan Cinderella. He’ll get the BIGGEST laugh out of the cat being called Lucifer.

Asmodeus

Like Mammon, will ask you about aesthetic places and things to do

In a rare moment of not hating Mammon, the two will gossip at the jewelry stores and be really critical. Mammon stops Asmo from making bad purchases

Show him around some makeup stores! He’d LOVE to see human products!

If you take him by ANY store with clothes, he will look, pick, feel, analyze, and try things on for the hell of it. It will be an all-day thing

Human fashion takes off more than he expected on the Devilgram, so he’ll buy a few things.

When he realizes makeup stores give free makeovers, he’ll use that to his advantage. Especially by charming people

Goes on a small kick of charming people to get what he wants because Lucifer only ever told him he couldn’t do it to YOU. It’s a new level of fawning and attention and he eats it up

If he sees a cute Starbucks drink on TV, he wants it.

If you show him Pinterest or Instagram, he’s glued to a device and saving things.

By the time everyone goes back to the Devildom he has a tiny notebook full of ideas and details--ways to recreate it in the Devildom

Gets several modeling offers and you (or one of the bros) has to pull him away, It’s not happening.

Unexpectedly into unboxing videos and calligraphy. Lives for pretty hand writing and is fascinated by bullet journaling even though he’s too lazy to maintain one

Show him soap operas/dramas and celebrity entertainment channels. He won’t know what to believe.

If he sees shows like Jerry Springer, Maury, Jeremy Kyle, or Judge Judy he live-streams them like ‘can you believe what crazy things happen in the human world?!’

Beelzebub

The dollar store is his heaven! ALL THIS FOOD FOR A DOLLAR?!

I personally think that human food is less calorically dense so he’ll need to eat a lot. Take him by fast food places that have cheap dollar menus or five dollar deals

If you go to a restaurant with a ‘finish in ‘x’ amount of a minutes and it’s free!’ do it. He’ll set a record

Beel learns about all you can eat buffets and gives you puppy eyes until you take him to one. At least you’ll get your money’s worth!

Don’t take him by a real grocery store. He’ll bankrupt you. Or eat all the free samples.

He’s interested in cooking shows but if he watches them you’ll have to clean up a lot of drool, give him something to eat while he’s watching, or stop him from absently grabbing the closest thing and trying to eat it

Is super into renovation shows and technical shows where people work with their hands. It’s like sports of the mind.

Not as interested in watching American football because he’ll critique it too much. Any other sport, he’ll find it interesting and want to know how it works.

Show him old Olympic footage. He’s surprised at the variety of sports and will watch the whole thing

Will also enjoy Ghibli movies. How do they make food look like that?!

This boy is a Disney princess in a demon body. If he sees any critters while he’s out and about (ANY), he’ll want to try and feed it or pet it

Bugs are drawn to him. He especially likes caterpillars and butterflies.

Beel likes to hunt for ladybugs.

Likes to “donate” to ant hills and watch them work,

Likes to watch nature documentaries about different animals

If you take him to the zoo, he’ll marvel at the different animals. Wants to wrestle a tiger and the bigger animals to see if he’ll win. It looks “fun.”

Belphegor

When he hears about mattress stores, that’s his thing. That’s what he wants you to do together. Belphie will literally lay on as many mattresses as possible and judge them

He may not have a hard time sleeping as long as he has his favorite pillow, but, for kicks, show him ASMR. Beel’s not the only one who drools!

Will definitely fall asleep outside in the sun. Any place is a good place for a nap, and to look up and see clouds is special

Spend a night outside under the human sky. It’s constellations and things he only ever gets to see in the star room

Will watch just about anything on TV. He’ll say he doesn’t have a preference but he likes those happy, soft movies that have gentle endings where everything turns out okay. Actually cries a little.

If he learns what Snorlax is from Pokemon, he’ll want one. A big Snorlax plushy to cuddle and sleep on/with!

If he hears the word “demon” uttered on TV he’s instantly hooked. What stupid thing do these humans think? THAT’S their version of a demon?!

Can you take him to see real cows? He’d really like that.

The type to make flower chains in the grass because he’s bored. Gives his first one to Beel and falls asleep before he can make another one.

Loves milkshakes unironically. Will slink out of bed and come along on any errands/brother outings if he can get one out of you.

[swanlake1998]

Article: Moving Over: A Powerhouse of Black Dance Is Retiring (Mostly)

Date: September 2, 2021

By: Charmaine Patricia Warren

Joan Myers Brown, the founder of Philadanco, is stepping back if not quite away from her duties. She still goes to the office every day.

Rushing to our Zoom interview from an in-person audition at the Philadanco studios, Joan Myers Brown opened the conversation by making me laugh. She asked for a reminder of what we were doing and then said, “What an honor, you want to talk about me — only thing I usually talk about is Philadanco.”

Myers Brown is the keeper of all things Black dance, and Philadanco (or, the Philadelphia Dance Company) is the troupe she founded in 1970. Now, after more than 50 years, she’s “moving over,” as she calls it, stepping back but not quite stepping away from the daily work of running the company.

At 89 (she turns 90 on Christmas Day), she is full of energy, and her memory is impeccable. Given the floor, she will share her love of dance, especially Black dance, for which she has been a champion and an institution builder.

True to her Philadelphia roots, in 1960 she founded the Philadelphia School of Dance Arts, for African American children; then Philadanco in 1970; in 1988, the International Conference of Black Dance Companies; and then in 1991, the International Association of Blacks in Dance (I.A.B.D.), which supports the Black dance community through gatherings, presentations, education and career guidance.

Of course, none of this existed when Myers Brown started studying ballet at 7 with Essie Marie Dorsey, whose school catered to Black children. (Dorsey, who passed for Spanish, had studied ballet with whites.) At 17, in the segregated 1940s, Myers Brown got the bug to become a ballerina from a white teacher, Virginia Lingenfelder, and was the first and only Black student in Lingenfelder’s ballet club.

Later, she studied at the Ballet Guild, where she was again the only Black student, and was spotted there by the British choreographer Antony Tudor, who invited her to take his class. “He was coming from England, so he didn’t have that American prejudice stuff,” Myers Brown said. “He taught me like I was the same as the others and not like an intruder.”

She never became a professional ballerina. “Other than Janet Collins, Blacks were not hired at that time,” she said, referring to the first African American prima ballerina with the Metropolitan Opera. But because of Tudor, Myers Brown performed in a community production of Michel Fokine’s “Les Sylphides” with the Ballet Guild and the Philadelphia Orchestra. At 19, Tudor encouraged her to move to New York; instead, she commuted to study with the dancer and anthropologist Katherine Dunham. “I would’ve been afraid to go to New York and live alone,” Myers Brown said.

She became a successful revue dancer and seized every opportunity to take class on her travels. “I read every book on ballet and dance, and then I chose to teach because I didn’t get the opportunities I wanted,” she said. “That’s when I started my school and tried to teach what I remembered.”

The Black dance community reveres her, and the world has been noticing. She was the subject of a 2011 book, “Joan Myers Brown and the Audacious Hope of the Black Ballerina,” by Brenda Dixon Gottschild. And in 2012, President Obama presented her with the National Medal of the Arts.

I met Myers Brown, or Aunt Joan as she is known to those close to her, when we were both instructors at Howard University in the early 1990s. Like me, those who’ve walked alongside her know that she is a powerful force, a leader who has set the tone for Black dance organizations to follow. And though Myers Brown is stepping back from her role at Philadanco, make no mistake: She still goes to the office, and is very involved.

When talking to Myers Brown, you bring your best because her presence demands it. She is always dressed to the nines, but her elegance is balanced by her lack of pretension and her quick, sometimes sharp, tongue.

“You didn’t ask me any questions,” she said near the end of our talk. I did, but they flowed organically because Aunt Joan made it so easy. 

Below are edited excerpts from our conversation.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: So, what made you decide it was time to step away?

Joan Myers Brown: Guess, just guess! I’ll be 90 years old. I have four dance companies, two dance schools and six grandkids. I’ve been working 15-hour days for 50 years, plus my school will be 60. I’ve given enough of my life to this, but I don’t own it.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: What do you mean you don’t own it?

Joan Myers Brown: Founder’s syndrome. After a while, the founder don’t mean anything because the company and organization have outgrown them.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: How are you feeling about moving over, as you call it?

Joan Myers Brown: I’ve settled on moving over, and I appointed Kim Bears-Bailey as artistic director. Now I have to let her know it’s OK to do what she thinks and let her make mistakes. But I need a managing director, someone who is committed to moving something other than their own aesthetic forward.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Kim was first at Philadanco, in 1981, as a dancer. Did she make an impression on you back then?

Joan Myers Brown: She did. She was one of those girls that I don’t think ballet companies would have liked. You know how they do us when we are Black and we just don’t look the part. She wanted it, and was willing to put forth the work, and I said, “Why don’t you audition for Ailey?” She said, “Everything I need is here.”

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Was there a search for an artistic director?

Joan Myers Brown: Not artistic, managing. I’ve had three white girls come into my organization with all the qualifications, but there was a sensitivity chip about Blackness missing. They have to think differently about how they treat Black people and know what we need. When I was looking for a development director, I hired a company of three ladies.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Are they Black?

Joan Myers Brown: No. White. I had to school them.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Does Kim run the school also?

Joan Myers Brown: Well, the school is not part of the company. The first 10 years the company was housed in the school, but when we purchased the building, we reversed the roles. The school pays rent to the company. I kept the school for profit so I would be guaranteed an income as a single parent.

You know, the String Theory School wants to build a new location, a charter school, and call it the Joan Myers Brown School of the Arts.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Wait, they’re naming a school after you?

Joan Myers Brown: Yes, and they want me to develop a curriculum, so I put Ali [Willingham, artistic director of Danco3] there because he teaches the way I like people to teach — know the craft, break down the movement, demand growth and not show off. Our youth are caught up in getting the applause and not learning the craft, so when I find the ones that really want to learn, they have someplace for classes and performing opportunities.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: The Black Lives Matter movement isn’t new to you, is it?

Joan Myers Brown: I experienced that in 1962, 1988 and 1995. Every time white folks in charge throw money out there and say, “Y’all got to help Black people,” they help us, but when the money’s gone, they’re gone. Have you noticed how every ad in Dance Magazine has a Black person? It’s like they are saying, “Look, I got one!”

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Did you envision I.A.B.D. conferences as a home base for the Black dance community?

Joan Myers Brown: You know, the first few conferences we were a mess, but we were happy to be together. Cleo [Parker Robinson] is from Denver; Jeraldyne [Blunden] was Dayton; Lula [Washington], Los Angeles; and Ann [Williams], from Dallas. And each time we learned something about our own organizations, about others doing the same thing, and how we can help each other. Mikki Shepard pulled us together, and people said we set the plate for DanceUSA. I was on the board of DanceUSA then. I said, “I got to get away from here and start my own thing because this ain’t helping Black people at all.” 

The younger members want to ignore the things we learned, and their opinions are valid, but I say experience teaches you something. I.A.B.D. was a gathering to bring us together and share stuff, now it’s a full-fledged service organization.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Do you miss the early gatherings?

Joan Myers Brown: It wasn’t like, “Girl, you got to come,” but more like, “let’s be together.” And when Jeraldyne died, we were a mess. Debbie [Blunden-Diggs] is stepping up to the plate now.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: The Philadanco family is huge, isn’t it?

Joan Myers Brown: We have a saying: You “gon” — without the “e” — but you’ll be back. A girl from my summer program told her mom, “I want to go back to Philadelphia because they give the training I need.” And her mother said, “I used to be in Philadanco 25 years ago, I’m going back with you.” She moved back, and I put her in charge of my minis.

I’ll give you another example: My first company was football players. I had no big boys in the school, saw them playing at my old high school and asked them to be in a show. They were more interested in the girls at first and refused to wear tights. I couldn’t pay them, but the Negro Trade Union Leadership Council was paying Black boys to learn trades. I told them to go in the morning, learn the trade, get that check, and then come for class at night, and they caught the bug. One of the boys owns a company and does my renovations now.

Everybody can’t teach or choreograph; I encourage all of my dancers to have a second career so that when you stop dancing you can do something else.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: What do you wish for?

Joan Myers Brown: Well, I’m wishing that people would understand that I need to shore up this organization. So, if I drop dead, the organization won’t be saying, “Aunt Joan ain’t here, what are we going to do?” I want them to say, “Do this, and take care of that.”

Charmaine Patricia Warren: You always have a Plan B, so what is it?

Joan Myers Brown: I like living alone. I like being single. I had three husbands, I’m fine. My Plan B is to do nothing, but I realized that people pay me to talk so I might do some more of that.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Did I forget anything?

Joan Myers Brown: No. Well, yes, I do what I do because it needs to be done. And I believe in helping people that need help, and if they don’t pay back, it’s OK. The last thing I can say is that being Black in America is being Black in America, and it ain’t easy.

[shatteredxglass]

@wyrdify​ / @flameleads​ commissioned: # [ for Roy because I'm also curious ]  || Send ‘#’ for your information in Elias’ phone || ACCEPTING

Your Muse’s Contact Name: Elias has a weird lil’ naming convention when it comes to naming people in his phone and it can range from like...someone’s actual name plus a few emojis, some kind of nickname, or just making their contact name the name of one of his opera/ballet characters that he’s reminded of. If “the War of the Wolf and the Fox” exists in a more modern setting, Roy’s name in his phone would be “Flint.” If it doesn’t, however, his name in Elias’ phone would simply be “Mustang” this is both because Elias doesn’t put people’s first names in his phone (he thinks its awkward and he cannot explain why), and because he does hold a decent amount of respect (surprising i know since his first instinct is to piss him off) towards Mustang so he doesn’t get any extra emojis.

Elias did consider a knife or flame emoji at one point but thought it would look weird.

Your Muses Picture: Elias doesn’t snag pictures of people without their permission, and I don’t think he’d have ever asked Roy cause he’d just expect a no right off the bat. So instead, Roy’s picture in his phone is quite literally a mustang- the car, not the horse. He thinks he’s very clever and funny for it, but he’s really not.

Your Muse’s Ringtone: Now see one would think that Elias uses classical music for his ringtones, but he actually has a very wide variety. Especially since his music taste is quite all over the place in a modern verse. In this case, I think Elias’ ringtone for Roy could once again be one of two things:

One, the actual motif he had given to Flint in the War of the Wolf and the Fox (again if said opera is in existence)

Two, The Rules by The Hoosiers

Last Text: {text: Mustang}: heads up, coffee shop by work is closed for renovations {text: Mustang}: i found one like 4 blocks over that’s decent tho {text: Mustang}: Do with the information what you will, thought it would help you save time since I already went through the 20 minute process of locating and trying it. {text: Mustang}: I am also still waiting for my coffee so if you want I guess I could just bring you whatever you order.

[innermoonlight-bhe]

Me, again, on Destiel. Please read.

I’ve been having problems all this month. And while I was self-exploring the reasons of my uneasiness, I tracked it back to 15x18. When I first watched the episode I had lots of unresolved feelings. I felt happy and at the same time really distressed. After waiting for two week for the end of Supernatural I thought those feelings would disappear but they just kept on getting stronger. I began feeling stressed and, this last two weeks, feelings just empty. I had no desire to do anythings, like I was lost. Yesterday I realized why and got me sad and mad at the same time. I don’t want to take a lot of time writing this but there are too many emotions and rational thoughts that don’t let me sleep at night. 

This is why I want to divide this text into two parts:The first one being the queerbating debate on internet. This includes the normalization of heterosexual relationships, audiences, plots and writing, marketing and advertising, and other things that have to do with t.v. industry. In specific, the rare case of CW and its treatment of the whole Supernatural family. In the second part I would like to focus on my personal experience, which I’m sure is same to most people who were left all alone in this Destiel world of disappointment. This last one you can decide to ignore or share with me. The one that i’m most interested is that you read the first part, even though it can seem a little out of context, since I’ll be referring to another tv shows of the CW.

 FIRST PART THEN OF THE DESTIEL OPINION:When I was left so sad after the queerbaiting I began watching a famous soup opera aka telenovela, called Yo soy Betty, la fea. It’s famous worldwide and I felt it like a comfort home after all the Destiel drama. It made me happy because the story plot is only one: the heterosexual couple that falls in love. Of course I’m reducing this too much, but the point is that yesterday, after I finished watching it, I realized that even though the main couple had problems at the end the audience knew they would’ve ended together. It did happen, in the anti-last episode, same as in supernatural and the Cas confession. The two further episodes centered on the happy conclusion on the story. There are clear points to establish:

Point 1:  Supernatural was born as a serious mainly centered on two heterosexual man traveling all along a country hunting monsters while looking for a father. Meanwhile a classic telenovela centers on a love couple who fight against everythings to be together; in this case it’s establish since the beginning and no one will except anything else. 

Point 2: Meanwhile telenovela’s audiences are destined to be woman, wanting to follow the classic love story; Supernatural was being male focused actually did excepted woman but also men watchers. Supernatural had a largest specter of viewers.

Point 3: Telenovelas are not willing to change the story for the audiences desires. They work with practical and classic formulas that rarely will fail. There’s no necessity to receive a feedback to complete. Supernatural and tv series, on the other hand, actually need the feedback from the viewers because on it depends their permanency on the screen. 

Supernatural needed to keep their viewers high so the show could continue. I’m gonna leave the classic telenovela out for a moment. It’s important settling this differences to approximate myself to the basic point of my madness: how unethical is the queerbaiting.The public opinion changes, and The CW having clear this is very know to keep in touch with fans wishes and needs. In the case of Jane the Virgin, a barely combination of the telenovela classic plot but in a tv series way, had a big “change” with one of their main characters: Petra. Her connection with the main character, Jane, was noted and wanted by many of the viewers. But the show’s creator knew that main plot (point 1)was a girl who accidentally gets pregnant and eventually falls in love with the love of her life, Rafael. So the show writers wouldn’t just change this main plot in order to make a couple happen, so instead they gave the public what they wanted by making Petra bisexual and introducing a perfect girl for her, also called Jane, to deliver the wish of fans. This relationship worked purely and on its on. The reactions with Petra bisexuality were low, and they took care of it as if it was something normal and not anything that needed satanizing. No one could be expected to freak, not even Petra’s twins. Even though the first seasons Petra only had male relationships. This is a good thing that The CW did, but they didn’t do this out of the goodness of their heart: they did it for views and for the audience (point 2). Jane the virgin was also planned to have female audiences and to treat serious social issues respecting sexuality and love. This is why it didn’t came as a surprise. 

Then why did Destiel couldn’t happen? Because the CV is homophobic? Probably there’s some of this in it, but the reality it’s they weren’t giving up on the part of the audience that is actually homophobic, or that at least won’t feel comfortable watching a heterosexual character discover himself as bi. The thing of the audiences is important because the “ambiguity” in which Cas’ confession was treated worked perfectly for them: it gave exactly the sufficient enough to keep us happy, meaning while keeping the perfect amount of “friendship”. So anyone can take whatever they want for the story. By this part I understand why they wanted to deal with this confession in an ambiguous way: to please everybody. But why did they wanted to please everybody? It wasn’t out of kindness of their heart, it was for views.The whole queerbaiting debate has being on the tables for a long time but we also ignore the unethical implications on it. It has been used by many contemporary media, to hint at something that the producers are not expecting to happen any time. And even though, they keep on teasing us. This is highly unethical because the reason behind them is the accumulation of money. Supernatural survived because of Destiel. I resisted myself to say this because I had respect for the series until I stopped watching around season 10. The story and plots were doom, repetitive and boring at times. We keep watching for the emotions caused by the supernatural family. Not only Destiel but Sam and all of the characters. The original plot explained in the point 1 was lost and blurred, we were far away from that premise and that was why the finale episode feel just bad. 

The show had chances to grow without losing the origina plot but also confronting change and accept that sometimes, things must pass and you have to move. Destiel was an important support of the show, the views and year after year renovation of the series. Pointing at the queerbaiting has lost its meaning if we forgot why they do it, why they keep on doing this even though it makes us feel bad. This affects the shows work in perspective because it changes the plot and natural progression of the story. For the queerbaiting, they have scenes that are forgotten next episodes like they never happened. I’m a literature student and the first thing they say to us is that a scene, even a word, should be taken so seriously that it actually work on the long road of the story. In Destiel we have beautiful, all heart breaking scenes of Cas and Dean being romantic, closed, just in love. The Dean’s confession were he admitted to the priest he wanted to experience new things, the Castiel’s love confession, and others are an example of how this scenes have a space in the show but are still isolated from the original story. They don’t play a part in the bigger image. That’s why we don’t see Dean talk to Sam about Cas, this is why they are so many Destiel plots left unsolved. I have a small memory of an old lady assuring Dean that he’s in love, even though we haven’t seen in a long time a female in Dean’s life (Dean, who the first four seasons flirted with e v e r y woman he met.  Because producers and writers can let this scenes happen as long as it doesn’t change the main characters. Even, they are willing to let us think that Cas could be bi but Dean isn’t, by not having him say anything after Cas says I love you. And to be honest, we didn’t except much. 

We knew that we were clowning and it’s not like we excepted a love making scene from those two. We raised our expectations after 15x18 and not after. A lot of us were waiting on the finale to bring joy even though we never actually imagined it would go canon. 15x18 lifted expectations very few had and that lots, myself for instance, returned to watch after hearing Destiel was semi-canon. It brought back feelings, I got to rewatch supernatural to enter the atmosphere once again... So it was perfect for the CW. On one hand, the biggest queerbaiting on history gave them back for 15x19 and 15x20 all the fandom they had lost for the previous queerbaiting and tiredness of waiting. And also, they keep the antis and the homophobe watching. It was perfectly staged and nothing else was expecting. Something similar happen with Jane the virgin. With the death of Michael (I rather shipped more Jane with Michael) a lot of fans stopped watching. This was planned since the beginning and they actually gave us a fake death and then the real one. I actually stopped watching one season of Jane the virgin after his death because I was devastated, even though since the beginning everything pointed at Jane ending up with Rafael. Her connection with Michael was lovely and pure love. But after killing him off they wrote the relationship of Jafael so perfectly, not rushed or anything: it developed in a way that her relationship with Michael was intact but finished by death. It was a hard punch but at the end we ended up to accept her relationship with Rafael because of the clear progression between the characters. But, at the end of the series, at the last season they decided it was good idea to bring Michael back from the death and have her chose Rafael, after all of the progress It took for her to forget Michael. The changed her and all of the perspective of love changed for the show. It made thing that soul mates don’t exist, that all the love Jane felt for Michael disappear after having a whole season of her suffering for her lost, after she wrote her first book for him. It would’ve been so much better for the story if Michael stayed death. 

So the things is it’s not only queerbaiting on homosexual couples, but the whole idea that they need to have a huge audiences watching their last seasons. I returned to watch Jane the virgin excepting for Michael. This awful thing they do. Just for views and gain of capital bothers me and its what makes me angry. In the case of Supernatural it’s also a topic of homophobia and the fear that the homophobia of a few will ruin the views of series finales. An as I considere the unethical implications is why I would love to have them apologize to us. It’s like a person promising the stars and stopping you to move on, while they know nothing will happen. They use us as numbers to gain money and attention. The decision that I and a lot of people took to unfollow all of The CW accounts is no radical. It’s a little if we take into account all of the money they made from the unethical queerbaiting. It causes me a lot of anger and actually feel like a I need an apology because I felt used and dirty. This is the fault of the industry and the CW has a fame of doing so.

 PART 2: 

This will be little in comparison. Now I want to get to the sad sentimental part. I felt all empty because four years ago that I stopped watching I also stopped talking to the love of my life. Hearing about Destiel had me going back to moments. I even desired to talk to him again to tell him that I wasn’t all wrong. Destiel wasn’t platonic or an illusion. it has clearly staged to makes us think it could happen. It’s not the story of an angel who falls for a human, that gives everything up for him, that loves him. After his confession is the story of unrequited love. Dean never says it back and it’s a feeling that a lot of people have suffered. To love someone and not having them saying them back, of the relationship that never ends but at the end it’s one of the most important. This one I talked about I never dated, I never kissed, but he’s the man i’ve loved the most in my life. Having Castiel saying I love you and never receiving anything back, giving his life and no one saving him, it’s just heartbreaking for all of us who have constantly giving everything without expecting anything in return. At the same time it’s the story of a a couple that never happens but that should have. The same reflexion as always: if it were heterosexual it would’ve happen long time ago. But it also happens in real life, that if time alined, if things were in other way relationships would’ve happen with people in our lives.I had a lot of more feelings for Destiel, but that would be for another time. Right now I just realized why made me, personally, feed angry and sad. I realized I was a Cas to someone else. I realized I was used by a network. The queerbaiting actually has psychology repercussion on us, and it’s something they fail to understand. Accepting that I was affected by a tv show took me a hard time. I didn’t know how to explain to others why this had me absence for week, I thought I was ridiculous and week. I felt bad but know I realized I’m not wrong. It’s not my fault but it’s years of messing with out feelings on purpose. Some day i’ll write an essay on this. I have to much to say but I end it with this:

The media manipulates our emotions and doesn’t take any responsibility whatsoever. 

Don’t trust the media.

(Sorry for the bad english, I’m mexican. But at least Destiel is canon in my language). 

[patiencetaught]

1. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚?

She uses a rose perfume, so that’s one of the most prevalent scents when you’re standing near her. If you’re close enough, you might get a whiff of her rosemary and mint shampoo. She also tends to have the general scent of freshly baked bread and cinnamon that’s somehow ended up imbedded in her clothes from baking. If you catch her after work there’s a very high chance that she’ll smell a little bit like play-doh, elmer’s glue, and hand sanitizer because she was around children all day.

2. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚’𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚?

Cold to the touch and more calloused than you’d think. All the manual labor from her childhood and young adulthood, in addition to her gardening and cooking, gave her hands a roughness that she can’t totally fix. She wears lotion to try to mitigate it a bit, but they’re still not quite as soft and “ladylike” as she thinks they should be. 

3. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙪𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙮?

On a weekday, breakfast is usually eggs, toast, and tea. If it’s a weekend, she might get a little bit more wild and crazy and make she and Matilda waffles or pancakes. For lunch, it’s usually pretty straightforward and balanced because she just packs herself the same thing she makes for Matilda. So, sandwich (either peanut butter and jelly or turkey and cheese, both on homemade bread), fruit of some kind, a vegetable and an appropriate dip (usually carrots with hummus), and some kind of cracker or chip. There are the occasional deviations for things like soup or hard-boiled eggs or yogurt, but it tends to follow that formula. Dinner is the most variable meal because Jenny has collected quite the collection of recipes. Her baked chicken, stir fry, and enchiladas are all in heavy rotation but she definitely tries something new every few weeks. For dessert, there’s usually some leftover goodies that she made or a little piece of chocolate from the bowl Jenny keeps out for guests.

Jenny will snack throughout the day sometimes, but not often. Her students usually keep her busy during the day and she usually gets started on dinner as soon as she gets home. But on the weekends or on days off, she might have some tea and crackers or something between lunch and dinner. 

4. 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙫𝙤𝙞𝙘𝙚?

Arguably, yes. It’s fairly soft and sweet, sort of what you’d probably expect by looking at her. I sort of imagine her sounding a bit like Laura Osnes or Katie Hall? But without so much power behind her voice. Maybe a sort of Emmy Rossum in Phantom? I’m not describing this well and it’s all in the context of Broadway which is probably not helpful for most people...but basically, a sort of old school type Broadway mixed with a little bit of opera and Disney princess. 

5. 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙨?

She has tons, tbh. She bites her lip a lot when she’s anxious and will bite off pieces of loose or dry skin, which can make her lips bleed. It’s not a good look. She also fidgets with her hands a lot, either rubbing the pad of one thumb over the thumbnail of the other hand or knitting her fingers together and sort of twisting them back and forth. She also used to bite her nails pretty incessantly, but largely stopped once she started painting them, but it is a bad habit that will pop up occasionally if she’s under a lot of stress. And if she’s not fidgeting with her hands, she’s fidgeting with her hair or clothes. She twirls her hair around her index finger constantly or pulls on loose threads dangling from the hem of her blouse sleeve or skirt. 

Jenny is also generally really bad about eye contact. She was raised to just keep her head down and not look adults in the eye, so that’s translated to all adults. She’ll look a kid in the eye, but she very rarely makes direct eye contact with other adults, she prefers to look at her feet or just to the side of their face or their nose. 

As for non-physical bad habits, she backpedals on things constantly, before its even warranted. Like, she’ll soften/invalidate her opinions or feelings for pretty much anything. Like, if she admits that she would prefer one restaurant over another, she would probably pair it with “Not that there’s anything bad about Restaurant A. I don’t mind going there if you’d prefer.” She’s working on it, but its a massive bad habit (read: trauma response) that is glaringly apparent to pretty much anyone who knows her. 

6. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙪𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 / 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧?

Very stereotypically feminine. Lots of knee length skirts and dresses. Cardigans in neutral colors. Blouses with bows or ruffles or Peter Pan collars. Low heels or ballerina flats. She loves neutral and pastel colors, as well as floral patterns. Vintage silhouettes and designs are some of her favorites and she will frequently take inspiration from the first half of the 20th century. She will occasionally wear pants and quite likes cigarette pants and higher waisted 1940s styled trousers, usually in khaki or gray. She’ll wear overalls, a oversized tee shirt, and sneakers when she’s doing home renovations work or gardening, but that’s about as dressed down as she gets. 

7. 𝙄𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚?  𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝?  𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙨𝙤?

She does, but I don’t feel like it’s always in a way that other people would understand or recognize? Like, Jenny is generally fairly sparing with physical touch. She’s not much of a hugger outside of her partner and Matilda. But she shows affection verbally much more frequently, either telling someone how much she cares about them or something she admires about them. And even more frequent are the little, unspoken ways she shows her love to others. She is a really good listener and will bring up things you mentioned in a conversation weeks ago. She’ll bring in extra cookies to share with her coworkers in the middle of the week. She shovel’s her elderly neighbor’s sidewalk in the winter without being asked. Jenny loves people easily and expresses frequently, even if it’s in small, mundane ways. 

8. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙞𝙣?

Fetal position, but with one arm tucked under her pillow and her knees not quite pulled up to her chest. 

9. 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢?

Probably not. Jenny does not believe in yelling, for pretty much any reason other than an emergency, and her natural voice is quite soft. She’s not a whisperer or anything, but she’s not someone you’d be able to hear from the other side of the room if something else was going on around her. 

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