#victorian fixer upper

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Wait a minute! What is happening here? This is an 1888 Victorian fixer-upper in Fredericktown, MO. It has 27 bedrooms, 6 baths, 10,037 sq ft, and is only $99k. (However, some of the newer bedrooms have cinderblock walls.)

It looks like a wall may have been removed in the entrance. But, look at the cute stained glass windows.

It's currently under renovation- they just put in a new brick fireplace.

There's a nice wood stove here, and we can see that the floors are original.

Another wood stove. I like that they left the exposed brick. New walls are going up, there's a leak on the floor, though.

In the process of finishing the attic. A corner fireplace is going in. This is going to be nice.

I'm thinking bath in the corner.

It will be stunning when it's finished.

This is what I don't understand, though. Why would they make cinderblock rooms?

Long hallway that leads to a back door.

From the looks of this, it will probably need a kitchen.

I guess that you can cover up the walls with drywall or stucco.

Bath with some cinderblock. Clever way to make a shower curtain longer. I wonder if that's a sunken bathtub.

These look like children's bedrooms. Oddly, though, only one wall in each room is cinderblock.

This upper porch will be beautiful when it's refurbished.

There's a large porch and you can see that there's an addition on the side. They have container gardening going on, too. .41 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/700-S-Main-St-Fredericktown-MO-63645/124356259_zpid/?

[cheapoldhousesunder50k]

c.1900 Illinois Victorian Fixer Upper Under $19K

$18,500 Original owner, Mrs. Godfrey, would be known too pleased to see the state of this Victorian fixer upper. The three-bedroom, two-bath home is where she held her daughters’ birthday parties. Those pocket doors were closed when her protege gave piano lessons in the front room with bay window and hardwood floors. There is still life in this old home, but she does need help. Realtor…

[chaoticdesertdweller]

Bramwell, WV c.1897

The Holley House

[roachi-annie]

I made social media accounts for sharing my journey fixing up an old Victorian house I bought for $100

If anyone would like to help fund this restoration project or if you could share this and get it out there I’d appreciate it.

This house is about 170 years old give or take a decade, truthfully it’s estimated to have been built between the 1830’s-1850’s. I want to see her make it to see 200 and many more years to come.

Historical homes and architecture; the restoration and preservation of historical homes are some of my passions. Historic homes being a particular special interest. This is my lifelong dream.

All donations will go towards the restoration and preservation of this beautiful historic Victorian home. The roof and foundation need repaired and the electrical needs to be updated (it’s still on knob and tube!). Anything extra will go toward redoing the bathrooms and kitchen which were already gutted before I purchased this house, as well as rebuilding the collapsed back porch. The back porch hasn’t collapsed because of any structural or foundational issues (all foundation issues are in the front corner of the house exclusively), it’s just collapsed due to wood rot.

Here are the links for anyone interested in following this journey.

[benonirosehouse]

Kitchen Closet Part Two: Big Plans for a Little Space

(If you haven't read Part One, start here) Remember how terrifying the under-the-stairs-closet aka Kitchen Cave was looking in our last installment? It's looking much less horrifying. But it's not ready yet, because just when I am about to kinda half-ass something, J abandons her sensible nature and decides we need a beautiful closet, not just a functional one.

It's also not ready yet because we both work full time and have lives. Our mistake!

But in between working and living and beginning to totally restore the upstairs bathroom, we have had time to get somewhere with the closet. The exposed stairs had been half painted white and were stained, grimy, and very gross. We've primed them with Kilz and caulked them, and also primed the plywood floor as well. (You may be wondering why the floor is plywood. I looked in the cellar to see if the original floor was there, and it's not. It looks like there was a staircase down to the cellar at one point that was removed. That also seems to have something to do with the "temporary" support columns down there. We'll add it to the "ask a structural engineer" list.) Enjoy a little Before & After of our progress!

The door frame was (is) in horrible shape, and had been painted white over cream around the fridge, so some of it was... still cream. Thankfully, I have some white trim paint hanging around just because. I never thought I'd be so excited to hit something in my own home with the landlord special, but that's what the door frame got! The impact that white paint has had cannot possibly be overstated. Someday we'll actually fix the door frame, but that day is not today.

There was a shelf above the fridge when it was in the closet, and that shelf is made of the same plywood the floor is. There's a bit of space at the back of the closet that needs covering to even it all out for some laminate, and thankfully we have a free plywood scrap that fits the bill! Yeah, I said laminate. It's awful, I know. But it's a closet! And it's plywood! And we have so many visible parts of the house to spend money on beautifying. It just didn't seem worth even another dollar per square foot to use bamboo. I hopped on FB marketplace and found someone's insanely cheap (and low quality, but whatever) leftover stick-on vinyl planks in a decent color, and we're going to slap that straight on the plywood. J grimaced about it but agreed. There's a lot of shit to fix in this house, we may as well save where we can. Of course the plaster is cracked and in some places crumbling. I ordered a "homeowners" Plaster Magic kit and that's the next step in this journey. These walls were only ever hit with one light lime wash, so no paint stripping required to fix and then lime paint the walls. I thought we were going to paint the walls some version of white, put a cheap light in there, and call it a closet. However, after what felt like an hour of deliberation in the lighting section at Home Depot, we decided to go online instead and buy an attractive light fixture instead of a more utilitarian option. J, it turns out, wants a pretty closet, given that we'll be looking inside it every day. I was surprised, but happy to oblige. While we were shopping on the internet, we ordered rod brackets so we can hang our coats, and a tension rod. Someday we'll have closet door to match the other (seven!) doors in the space, but in the meantime, a curtain's going to have to serve.

Since we decided to make the space a bit nicer, we picked a cute blush color for the walls, Native from Color Atelier.

Looking forward to learning about plaster repair! Will post about it next time :)

[dewdropdinosaur]

Fixer Upper

ALASTOR x (F)READER Summary: Someone dared to break Alastor's precious radio and his wrath is inconsolable. But turns out you may have some small tricks up your sleeve. Warnings: NONE For the dearest @anon-of-the-void. My darling, it is a pleasure as always to write these for you.

In the bustling chaos of the Hazbin Hotel, where demons sought redemption amidst the fiery chaos of Hell, an unlikely friendship blossomed. Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, found solace in the presence of Y/N, an inventive soul from the Victorian Era who had found herself amidst the peculiar denizens of the underworld.

Y/N was a tinkerer, always tinkering away in her workshop, concocting gadgets and gizmos that would make even the most adept engineers marvel. Alastor, with his vintage charm and macabre wit, found her creations fascinating, and the two formed an unusual bond over their shared love for innovation.

One fateful day, disaster struck when Alastor's beloved old-time radio, his prized possession from his living days, broke down. The demon was devastated, his usual jovial demeanor clouded by a rare display of anger. The residents of the hotel trembled in fear, knowing the havoc that could be unleashed if the Radio Demon's rage remained unchecked.

Alastor's crimson eyes blazed with fury as he prowled the halls of the Hazbin Hotel, his usual jovial smile replaced by a menacing snarl. The residents cowered in fear, whispering among themselves as they caught glimpses of the Radio Demon's wrathful form.

"You there!" Alastor's voice boomed, sending shivers down the spines of those unfortunate enough to cross his path. "Do you have any idea of the inconvenience of my beloved radio breaking? The nerve, the audacity!"

Niffty, the hyperactive cleaner demon, spoke with a frantic passion as she viewed the mangled radio."Alastor! I'll do it! Let me clean it please!"

Alastor's laughter rang out like a chilling melody, sending a chill through the air. "Oh, my dear Nifty, no thank you. This requires some…interrogation but feel free to clean up the aftermath."

Angel Dust, lounging lazily on a nearby couch, scoffed, "Oh, lighten up, Al, it's just a stupid radio. Besides, it's not like anyone listens to your old-timey tunes anyway."

The room fell silent as Alastor's gaze bore into Angel Dust, his smile twisting into a sinister grin. "Is that so, my dear Angel? Perhaps I should demonstrate the consequences of underestimating the power of music."

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor summoned a spectral microphone, its ethereal glow casting eerie shadows across the room. "Now, let's see who's laughing when I unleash the full force of my wrath upon this wretched offender!"

The residents of the Hazbin Hotel trembled as Alastor's menacing laughter echoed through the halls, knowing all too well that when the Radio Demon was in a foul mood, no one was safe from his terrifying fury.

As fear spread throughout the hotel, Y/N knew she had to act swiftly to quell the storm brewing within Alastor's heart. Ignoring the warnings of her peers, she clandestinely snatched the broken radio and retreated to her workshop, determined to restore it to its former glory.Under the cover of night, she stealthily crept into Alastor's room, her pockets filled with tools and determination. With deft hands, she dismantled the broken radio, each cog and wire familiar to her skilled touch.

Hour after hour, Y/N toiled away, her nimble fingers dancing across the delicate machinery. With each adjustment and tweak, the radio gradually came back to life, its familiar crackle filling the air once more. But as the night wore on,  fatigue gnawed at Y/N's bones, her eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion. But she pressed on, fueled by determination and a desire to see her friend smile once more.

Finally, with a soft click, the radio sprang to life, emitting a crackling sound before filling the room with the familiar strains of vintage jazz. Y/N let out a sigh of relief, a triumphant smile gracing her lips as she admired her handiwork.

But as she stood there basking in her success, fatigue finally caught up with her. With a yawn, she sank into a nearby chair, her eyes fluttering closed as sleep claimed her.

Unbeknownst to her, Alastor had been silently watching from the shadows, his expression unreadable as he observed Y/N's tireless efforts to fix his broken radio. When he saw her succumb to exhaustion, a pang of concern tugged at his heart, softening the edges of his usually stoic demeanor.

Quietly, he approached her slumbering form, his footsteps barely audible against the creaking floorboards. Gently, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch light as a feather.

"My dear Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. "Such devotion, such selflessness. You truly are a marvel."

A warmth blossomed in Alastor's chest as he watched her sleep, a feeling he couldn't quite put into words. For the first time in centuries, he felt something akin to tenderness stirring within him—a feeling he realized with a start was nothing short of admiration.

With a soft sigh, Alastor leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead before picking up her form and striding over to his bed; tucking her in with the utmost care. As he stood there in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the quiet hum of the fixed radio and the soft breathing of his friend, he knew at that moment that he was irrevocably touched by her kindness.

And as the first light of dawn painted the sky, Alastor silently vowed to cherish and protect Y/N, for she had not only fixed his broken radio but had also managed to mend something far more precious—his wounded heart.

The next morning dawned upon the Hazbin Hotel, the air tinged with a sense of relief as the residents basked in the knowledge that Alastor's beloved radio had been fixed. Alastor strode into the lobby with a confident swagger, his usual grin plastered on his face. With a flick of his wrist, he turned on the radio, the familiar crackle of static filling the air before giving way to the melodic strains of love songs from a bygone era.

The residents exchanged puzzled glances, their confusion evident as they listened to the unexpected playlist. Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, looks like someone's feeling a bit sentimental today."

Alastor's grin widened, though there was a hint of something softer lurking beneath the surface. "Ah, my dear Angel, music has a way of stirring the soul, don't you think?"

As the love songs continued to play, the other residents couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth wash over them. Even the gruffest demons found themselves tapping their claws to the beat, caught up in the unexpected romance of it all.

But as Alastor's gaze lingered on Y/N, who stood among the crowd with a shy smile, a wave of realization washed over him. It wasn't just any love songs he was playing—it was a silent declaration of his growing affection for the inventive soul who had captured his heart.

And as the music filled the room with its sweet melody, Alastor couldn't help but feel a surge of hope coursing through him. Perhaps, in the midst of Hell's chaos, there was still room for love to blossom—a love that transcended time and defied all odds.

With a soft chuckle, Alastor stole a glance at Y/N, his heart swelling with newfound courage. For in that moment, amidst the gentle strains of love songs and the soft glow of morning light, he knew that he was falling—falling head over heels for the one who had fixed not only his broken radio but also the shattered pieces of his soul.

[eclipse-has-come]

— John Price Imagine

Thinking about John Price being a victorian era gentleman that died young and owning an antique shop in a building that used to belong to him (he's haunting it).

Warnings: Kinda stalking? "He's a ghost living with you and you don't believe that he exists so he watches you go about your day" kind of stalking so if you're uncomfortable with that, you're welcome to sit this one out.

A/N: Hello everyone! It's my first post on here and i still don't really get tumblr so some things might look a bit weird. I have not written in so long I might as well have forgotton how to do so but I had this dream the other day and i had to write it down because omg it made me feral. Disclaimer, I am not a native english speaker and i have no beta reader so if there are any mistakes, I do apologize!

Anyway, enough about stuff you don't care about, enjoy this short imagine based on my dream!

You finished up your degree not too long ago and your neverending search for a job keeps going nowhere. Everyday you would submit your cv to at least 5 different employers and most of the time, you only received an answer from one. Every interview you managed to snag was a miracle in and of itself. Too bad those didn't go anywhere either.

Everyday while going to your bus stop, you'd see an old victorian building. While once upon a time It would have been a beautiful structure, now it's only a shadow of it's former self. When you first passed the vintage store-front while walking back from yet another failed interview, you payed little to no attention to the dilapitated bricks. That was until you got back to your flat one day and realized it reminded you of an old antique shop you used to visit back home.

Back then it was run by a kind elderly lady, who would always give you old toys that didn't sell well, you recall fondly. Back then younger you was fully convinced that your future was to one day run an antique store just like that.

It should've been just an ordinary morning but the day after you reminisced about the antique shop, something strange happened. While walking your usual route, you noticed with the corner of your eye a man standing on the stairs leading up to the entrance of the victorian building. You ignored him at first (no use in getting involved), until you saw him walk inside- no, phase inside the building.

You honestly didn't even register what had happened until you were walking back home, passing the cursed building yet again. You stopped in front of the entrance, resignation filling you, whatever demon wanted you to check out this poor lump of bricks and giving you weird visions in the process, it had won. Walking up the stairs, you spotted a lone flyer posted on the door:

"FOR SALE"

Underneath the large words was a poorly scratched on number that you could barely make out. That evening you sat on your couch, debating whether to call or not. If you were being honest with yourself, you were running out of options fast and growing more and more desperate by the hour. You sighed heavily and entered the number into your phone.

The cheap price should have been the first red flag, the previous owner claimed it was haunted and "wanted to be rid of the headache as soon as possible" or so they said. When you first entered the inside, you were in absolute awe, It was beautifully adorned with carved patterns, seemingly transporting you back in time.

An apartment was located on the second floor of the building, adding to the convenience of this inexpensive investment. The large display windows were eye catching and even though the building could use a lot bit of work, you could already see just how incredible it would look. Well, you always were a fan of fixer-uppers.

During your diy renovations however, some strange occurrences started to catch your attention. At first it was nothing out of the ordinary, a floorboard creaking (it is a very old building after all) or maybe a box falling over (shouldn’t have packed so much!) but then it starts getting harder and harder to ignore.

Paint splashes on the wall with the bucket it belonged to on the other side of the room, cracks in the window appearing overnight etc. You truly didn’t believe in the paranormal and when the previous owner warned you, you ignored it, waving it off as some guy's crazy talk but this was becoming a little too hard to scientifically explain.

Even still, you powered through, pointedly ignoring any and all warning signs. However annoying these inconveniences were, they weren't truly malicious. No harm ever came to you nor the antiques you got and by the time the store was ready to open, you could only sigh in relief. All of the blood, sweat and tears you poured into this project finally paid off, your younger self would have gone ballistic if they saw you now.

Walking through the aisles filled with old trinkets, admiring their unique charm and the way they looked on the hand-built shelves. You sincerely hoped the next owners would appreciate them just as much as you.

Opening day was incredibly exciting, you were certainly not expecting the amount of people coming to see the new store. Turns out the previous owner was well known in the community, ("The building was passed down through generations!" One lady told you while admiring the ornamental chandelier you installed.) which made many residents eager to meet the next unlucky owner.

What pleased you most of all, is that all unusual situations ceased or at the very least, you stopped noticing them. Which would be understandable, a week into opening and the store was full of hustle and bustle. It truly warmed your heart to see that others treated these unusual objects with as much reverence as you held for them. If there really was a ghost here, then they must agree that what you'd done for the place was for the better, you giggled to yourself.

You turned the ‘closed’ sign around just as the clock struck six on Saturday evening. Even though you're beyond happy the whole store thing worked out, you can't deny that you're incredibly tired. Who knew constant social interaction and standing all day would cause you to want to curl up in your bed all sunday. Walking towards the stairs leading to your apartment, you observed the half-empty shelves, a satisfied huff leaving your lungs. Walking up the creaking stairs, you noted down in your brain to put some paintings on the plain staircase.

Entering the old flat you tiredly trudged through the still unorganised rooms (almost all of your time was spent on the downstairs of the building, your living space was just an afterthought during the renovations), you entered the bathroom to take a long scalding shower. Due to your tiredness however, you failed to notice the near silent footsteps following you.

After several minutes of nearly boiling yourself to relax, you step out of the shower. Careful not to slip, you reach for your softest towel. ‘You worked really hard and now you could finally pamper yourself’ you decided. With your mind set, you turn over to the mirror ready to start your skincare routine when you suddenly freeze in your tracks.

On the steamed up mirror, a short sentence managed to make you reconsider your opinion on the paranormal up until this point. Written in neat letters and gorgeous handwriting, there it was:

"Hello Darling"

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Say It Once, Say It Twice - Beetlejuice (Musical) X Female Reader

Title: Say It Once, Say It Twice

Beetlejuice (Musical) X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Lydia (Mentioned), a Mugger, Delia (Mentioned), and Charles (Mentioned)

WC: 4,306

Warnings: Musical Beetlejuice, and Beetlejuice in general, teasing, banter, flirting, suggestive, italics, cursing, mentions of death, very brief mention of snakes, nicknames, Reader gets almost mugged, crying, mentions of knives, self mentions of insecurement, fear of abandonment?, mood ring hair, slight angst, and fluff

Ever since you had a near-death experience as a child, you've been able to see ghosts. It was terrifying. And funnily enough, your first ghost was your grandmother, whose spirit had been attached to the house you, your mother, and your father lived in. Only after then, did it get worse.

You'd spot a ghostly ghoul trapped to walk down the same sidewalk over and over; shards of glass embedded in his pasty skin, someone had hit him with a car. There was an older woman, doomed to sit on the same bench she died on; heart attack while feeding the birds. You had witnessed and even spoken to a lot of trapped ghosts in your life, and this eventually led to you becoming an outcast to most of society. 

As you grew up, school was difficult, especially when you were younger ranting on and on about ghosts you could see and talk to; which led to a-many parent-teacher meetings. As you got older, and the stories continued, your parents tried taking you to a therapist, and psychologist, but nothing seemed to help you. For years you went to these doctors, and they always said that you either had an overactive imagination or you needed pills. 

At some point, you realized that by hiding your strange 'superpower', and pretending you were just making things up for attention or whatever, you were able to stop seeing those doctors; convincing your parents that you were fine. But that was well into your high school years, and at that point, you were considered... Odd. It was hard to make and keep friends. But you got to the point that you didn't need companionship. You did well in school, getting great marks, and graduated early, moving straight on to college. 

You were able to finish college and get your degree, before finding a well-paying job. Though, this well-paying job forced you to move to rural Connecticut; not that you really cared about moving, you could have a fresh start on life. New people, who didn't know about your odd past, about the ghosts you sometimes see, or anything else. 

So, in your early twenties, you moved yourself out to a small town in rural Connecticut. You were able to find a small home - oddly decently priced - thankfully, you had been saving up your savings ever since you were little, in hopes of possibly moving out and getting your place someday. Still, this small home was marked pretty low, and you thought that maybe it was a pretty big fixer-upper, but it was actually nice inside. It was bare, yet liveable. 

When you first moved in, you had noticed that you lived right next to this really pretty black, Victorian mansion. Well, the mansion sat on a high hill, looking over the town, and you were below that hill, off to the side, next to a side road that led to the main road. 

Well, after a couple of months, living in your new small home, you started to feel like someone was... Watching you. It was a feeling that sent shivers down your spine. This feeling wasn't all the time, no, but it happened every other day, or so it felt like. And whenever you felt it, you'd look around to see if anyone was watching you, but nobody was there. It unnerved you, to say the least. 

It wasn't until a couple of weeks later, that you finally figured out what was causing that unnerving feeling. It was no wonder why the house you now lived in was so cheap, compared to other houses around the States. The town was haunted by a demon. And this demon rarely left you alone. 

You felt like you were cursed. 

"Babes!" You heard Beetlejuice whine, hovering behind you as you sat at your desk, working on something for work. "Babeeeeeee!" He whined again, this time more forcefully.

You groaned. He's been whining in that tone for a while. But you were working, and you really wanted to get your work done, continuing to type away at your computer. "Beej," You muttered, still typing. "I'm working right now. I need to get this done for my boss."

Appearing on your desk, Beetlejuice sat beside your computer, glaring down at it before looking at you; a soft pink rising onto his hairline briefly at the nickname. Crossing his legs, he bent to rest his hand on his cheek, "Why don't I just get rid of your boss for you, then you don't have to work anymore."

"Nope," You began, popping the 'p'. "Then I wouldn't have a job. And no job means no money."

Beetlejuice pouted dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Money, shmoney. Who needs it? I can conjure up anything you need with a snap of my fingers!" He snapped his fingers, and a shower of white, green, black, and purple confetti burst into the air, though it did little to aid your concentration; you blew a piece of confetti off your nose.

Your... Relationship with Beetlejuice was... Interesting to say the least. In the beginning, you were incredibly annoyed by him, but soon found yourself warming up to his bizarre antics and unconventional charm. Beetlejuice was like no one you had ever met - or rather, no one you had ever been haunted by.

At first, his constant interruptions, crude jokes, and mischievous pranks drove you up the wall. You were sure he got a kick out of seeing you flustered and annoyed. However, beneath all the chaos, you began to see a different side of him. He was surprisingly attentive, and he never crossed any real boundaries that you had put up.

Slowly, your annoyance turned into reluctant amusement. His antics started bringing a smile to your face, even when you were trying to stay mad at him. You found yourself looking forward to his visits, wondering what kind of chaos he would bring next. He had a way of making the mundane interesting, and his unpredictable nature kept you on your toes.

Though, at that very moment, you just wanted to have some peace and quiet. Sighing, rubbing your temples, you spoke, "Beej, I really need to focus. This report is due by the end of the day."

He floated in front of you - upside down - blocking your view of the screen, his eyes wide with exaggerated innocence. "But babyyyy, I'm so bored! Entertain me!" He exclaimed, giving you an over-the-top puppy dog look.

You arched an eyebrow, unamused; though you felt heat rise up in your cheeks. "Why don't you go scare the neighbors or something? I'm sure Lydia's parents would love to entertain you or something.”

Beetlejuice grinned wickedly; streaks of red slowly appeared in his green, untamed hair. "Oh, you know they would! But I'd much rather be here, with you. It's way more fun!" He leaned closer, "Come on, just a little break? We can play a game, maybe we can play 'Truth Or Dare.'"

You shook your head, chuckling despite yourself. "Beej, if I don't get this done, I'll get in trouble, and then you'll have to deal with me being grumpy."

He smirked, returning to sit on your desk, and leaning in closer. "Come on, babes. Just a little game, pretty please?"

Without thinking, you reached out to push him away, your hand passing right through his ethereal chest. A shiver ran down your spine as your hand met no resistance, just cold air. Beetlejuice grinned wider, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Forgot I'm not solid, didn't ya?" At your groan and eye roll, he continued, "Fine, fine. But you owe me some quality time later. Or..." He trailed off, his mischievous grin reappearing, the dark green in his hair spreading, "You could be a dear and just say my name so we can have some real fun."

"Nope, not gonna happen. I am not summoning you." He groaned again, and you got right back to work, "Sorry, Beej, but I know that if I do that, you'll probably try and take over the world. I'm so glad I spoke to Lydia.”

“Damn kid.” He muttered, staring out your window, pouting once more, crossing his arms over his chest. Returning his eyes to you, he grinned that grin of his, "Take over the world? Me? Come on, babes, you know I'm more into causing localized chaos than global domination." He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with a mock wistful expression - his legs hung off the side of the desk, kicking back and forth in the air. "But imagine the fun we could have together! Ghost parties, haunting the living, pranking everyone... It would be legendary!"

You chuckled, shaking your head as you continued typing. "Legendary, maybe. But I've got responsibilities, and I can't just abandon them to become your sidekick in a supernatural escapade."

Beetlejuice sighed dramatically, floating up to sit cross-legged in midair. "Alright, Miss Responsible, finish your boring work then. But you better make it up to me later. Maybe then we can play a game of 'Truth or Dare' then, and I promise to keep it... Relatively decent."

You glanced at him, smirking. "Relatively decent, huh? I'll believe it when I see it."

He winked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, you'll see it, alright. Just you wait."

With a final dramatic - and somewhat creepy - giggle, Beetlejuice vanished in a puff of green smoke, leaving you to your work. As you turned back to your computer, you couldn't help but frown.

You wondered if Beej really did like spending time with you - annoying you and flirting with you - or if he was just doing it to try and convince you to say his name. That possible realization made your chest hurt. You knew that if you did say his name, you'd be giving him a lot more power than you were comfortable with.

What would happen when he got what he wanted? Would he really cause chaos like he always promised, or was there something more to his constant presence? Deep down, you had gotten so used to him always being around that the thought of him leaving after regaining his power scared you. He'd have his powers and forget all about you... The uncertainty gnawed at you, and you couldn't shake the feeling of being used, despite the strange bond that had formed between you two.

~~~

That night, after finishing the day's work, you kept your promise to Beetlejuice and played 'Truth or Dare' with him, which you immediately regretted doing. To make a long story short, Beetlejuice didn’t really follow through on his promise to keep the game 'relatively decent.' ‘If you could kiss anyone in the room, who would it be?,’ - you and Beeltejuice were the only ones in the room - you ended up letting out an irritated huff and crossing your arms.

Seeing that you were actively ignoring him, Beetlejuice raised an eyebrow and leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Oh, come on, babes! It’s just a game.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to avoid looking at him. "Yeah, well, you said you would keep it decent. This is the third question."

He tilted his head, his grin faltering only slightly "Actually, I said 'relatively'." At your silence, he continued, “Alright, alright. I get it. I’m sorry, babes… How about this? You pick a movie, and I promise to behave.”

“You?” You looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “You promise to behave?” 'Ha, fat chance.' You thought.

Beetlejuice crossed an 'x' over where his heart would be, "Cross my heart and hope to die.”

"Beej, you're already dead." You sighed deeply.

You quickly found yourself sitting on the one end of the couch, eyes fixed on the movie you had chosen. It had been silent except for the ambient noise of the TV for what felt like thirty minutes or so. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Beetlejuice fidgeting. His leg was shaking rapidly up and down, and his hands twisted around each other restlessly. You knew that he wasn't good at sitting still for long periods of time. Though he was trying to stay focused on the screen, his eyes kept drifting to you, unable to stay away.

Beetlejuice, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, slid closer, the proximity making your pulse quicken. You could practically feel the warmth of his presence, even though you knew it was just a trick of the mind. You tried to ignore the feeling of his presence. 

He glanced over at you with a teasing smirk. “You know, babe, if you said my name right now, we could really make this night more interesting. Wink, wink.” He actually said ‘wink, wink’ out loud, adding an actual wink. "Come on..." He trailed off, leaning in close, "Just for tonight. I can make it worth your while." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

"Beetlejuice," You lightly warned, making his eyes light up at the possibility of you saying it two times more, "No." His wicked grin quickly dropped into a pout.

Groaning, Beetlejuice flopped over your lap, though he phased right through you. Why did you still feel his presence as if he were truly there? And why did you have the overwhelming urge to touch his hair? “Babe! Babes! Toots! Baby! Babycakes! Puddin' Pie! Pumpkin! Pumpkin Pie!-” His insistent nicknaming made your cheeks flush as you tried not to make eye contact with him. “I’ll do anything!”

You looked down at him, a mix of frustration and curiosity in your gaze. “Anything?” you asked, tilting your head.

Beetlejuice sat up, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “Anything! You want a puppy? I’ll steal you a puppy! Or an elephant! Ya like elephants? Oh! Maybe we can get you a giraffe! Or a tiger! Or-”

You bit your lip, staring at him as he continued listing off animals he could ‘steal’ for you in exchange for his ‘freedom.’ Each offer sounded more outrageous than the last, and yet it was his eagerness that struck a chord with you.

A familiar unease settled over you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that Beetlejuice’s insistence on getting you to say his name was just another ploy. The thought that he might only be around because you could see - thus set him free - made you feel used. The idea of him disappearing from your life after all this time was more than unsettling; it was devastating.

Despite enjoying most of your time with Beetlejuice, your trust in him was fragile. The fear of him leaving, combined with your history of loneliness, made you wary of fully opening up. Having Beetlejuice in your life felt like a rare - if unconventional - source of companionship, and the thought of him vanishing after you’d let your guard down was almost too much to bear. You felt selfish for holding back, feeling like you were keeping a genie trapped in a bottle, but you also knew that not saying his name was a way to protect others from the chaos he could and would unleash.

“Beej,” You said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside, “I appreciate the offer, but you know I can’t just-”

Beetlejuice cut you off with an exaggerated sigh, sitting up. “Oh, come on! Just say the magic words, and we can have some real fun. You know you want to.” He sing-songed.

You shook your head, trying to keep your emotions in check. “It’s not that simple. There are... Reasons. I can’t just-” You let out a sigh, rubbing your cheek with a hand, and casting your gaze down to your lap; your heart was pounding in your chest. “I’m just going to... Get some air.”

You retreated to your room, shutting the door behind you and leaning against it for a moment. The quiet of your room was a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere you’d just left. You tried to calm your racing heart, grappling with the overwhelming emotions Beetlejuice stirred up in you. As you sat on the edge of your bed, you let out a deep sigh, your hands coming up to cover your face; your palms fiercely pressing into your eyelids, and tears burned the backs of your eyes.

~~~

When you did finally emerge from your room the next morning, you could almost feel the absence of Beetlejuice. He was nowhere to be seen, and the house felt eerily quiet. You went about your day, glancing over your shoulder as if expecting him to appear at any moment; almost waiting for him to appear with a giant grin on his face - maybe try and scare you in addition to some suggestive comment. Beetlejuice’s absence was both a relief and a source of unease... You even sort of... Missed him. And you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was either giving you space or plotting his next move. 

However, nothing happened at the beginning of the day. No pranks, no sudden appearances, nothing. You continued on, getting ready for work, walking to work, working, and then walking home. As you did every weekday. It was dark, but there were a few street lamps that illuminate your path. The streets were silent, and you seemed to be the only one walking down the block. You often found yourself the only one, and it was nice most nights, just listening to music on your headphones as you enjoyed your evening stroll back home. 

Passing a couple of small businesses, you fiddled with the strap of your over-the-shoulder bag before you felt someone grab your upper arm, pulling you into the nearby alleyway. A shiver of fear ran down your spine, your eyes wide as you were harshly pushed up against the brick wall of a building. You felt your body suddenly feel cold, a chill running through your veins as you stared up at the man before you, pinning you to the wall.

He smirked wickedly, a grin that would probably give you nightmares. Raising his free hand, he pulled the headphones off of your ears, letting them rest around your neck before he raked his eyes across your face. You felt like you were going to be sick, and even more so when you noticed the glint of a knife as he pulled one out of his back pocket. You tried to swallow, but your throat was super dry, and you tried to speak, only for the evil stranger to tut you, shaking his head.

"Uh-uh-uh, pretty. I have something to say." His voice was dripping with venomous honey, he raised the knife, and it glinted once more in the moonlight. "Now, this is how this is going to play out. I'm going to take your bag, whatever valuables, and maybe... If you're lucky, maybe-" He glanced down at your body again, licking his lips as he grinned wolfishly, "I'll let you go." His knife brushed along your collarbone, rubbing the fabric of your shirt slightly.

You felt panic and bile rise up in your throat, trying to think of something - anything! Suddenly, you had an idea. A crazy idea. "Beetlejuice." You muttered, making the man before you raise an eyebrow, his wolfish grin becoming slightly confused.

"What?" He darkly chuckled out, twisting the knife.

"Beetlejuice." You spoke again, more clearly, the man blinked.

"Beetle-whatnow?"

Swallowing thickly, narrowing your eyes, you stared up at the man as you spoke, "Beetlejuice."

The man before you let out a laugh, staring at you as his grin returned, "I don't know what you are trying to pull, or saying, but I would suggest you just let me take want I want and-"

“Nice knife you’ve got there,” A voice suddenly said, his tone dripping with mock admiration as he appeared behind the mugger. The man jumped, turning around to see a man dressed in a tattered black and white stripe suit. The mugger narrowed his eyes, eyeing the strange red, untamed hair, and pale complexion, and the odd bits of green on his face. 

"Who the living Hell are you?" He growled, still trying to sound and act tough, despite being a bit unnerved by the strange man's sudden appearance.

“I'm your worst nightmare,” Beetlejuice said with a sinister grin, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight as he took a menacing step closer to the mugger. His voice was laced with a chilling amusement that seemed to fill the alleyway with an unsettling energy. The mugger’s eyes widened in shock and confusion. Beetlejuice continued, his gaze fixed on the knife in the mugger’s hand. “As I said, nice knife you’ve got there. It would be a shame if something were to happen to it.” With a snap of his fingers, the knife began to twist and writhe, its metal surface rippling as it transformed into a black-and-white striped snake.

The mugger’s face went pale as the snake slithered around his hand, hissing and wriggling with an almost sentient anger. The mugger let out a high-pitched yelp of terror, dropping the snake and stumbling backward onto the ground. He scrambled away from the hissing, writhing creature, his eyes darting around in panic as he tripped over himself, desperate to get as far away from Beetlejuice as possible.

Beetlejuice watched with a satisfied smirk, he chuckled darkly, his laughter echoing off the alley walls. “Run along, you little creep!” Beetlejuice called out with a mocking tone. “I’ve got better things to do than play with you.” He waved dismissively, and with a snap of his fingers, the snake vanished into thin air, leaving only a faint shimmer of green smoke in its wake.

The mugger, now thoroughly panicked, scrambled to his feet and bolted from the alley, his screams fading into the distance. Beetlejuice grinned; nobody touched his breather. Beetlejuice turned his attention back to you - seeing your still-wide eyes, frozen frame, and somewhat slack jaw as the adrenaline coursed through your system; this was your first time having witnessed Beetlejuice so… Devious. His grin softened slightly at you, expressing as he approached, his hair returning to its green, with streaks of red; and hints of purple. He was worried that you were scared of him.

“Well, that was entertaining,” He said, his tone shifting to something more gentle, though still edged with his usual mischief, and you felt yourself finally breathe. "You rang-?" Beetlejuice's words were cut short when you suddenly threw your arms around him; all his worries flew out the window.

You clung to him, tears streaming down your face as the reality of the situation hit you all at once - not even taking into account his almost rotten and dead flower smell; you nuzzled your face closer. Beetlejuice was caught off guard and hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around you. The touch was new, comforting in a way you hadn’t expected; but you still feared that he might vanish into the air if you let go. He wasn’t just a ghostly presence anymore; he was solid, tangible, there. His usual bravado faltered, replaced by a hesitant, almost clumsy attempt at offering comfort. He held you close, feeling the warmth and weight of your embrace. He shut his eyes, digging his nose into your hairline, before teleporting you back to the safety of your home.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself sitting beside Beetlejuice on your couch. Reluctantly slipping out of his cold hold, you wiped the heels of your hands onto your eyes, brushing away the tears; and sniffling. Beetlejuice's hands fidgeted, the overwhelming need to reach out and hold your hand was bubbling up inside of him; he bit his bottom lip with his sharp teeth. He waited for you, waiting for you to start talking. Anything to break the heavy silence between the two of you. Finally, after a long while of hesitation, you spoke.

"I- I didn't know what to do," Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "I had to summon you... I- Thank you..." You bowed your head, and the realization that he was now free, free to leave, "You probably want to go off and do your own thing... Right? You're finally free to wander and roam and cause chaos."

His green eyes studied you, staring down at the side of your face. “Free to roam and cause chaos?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically as you looked up, your confused, wide eyes meeting his. “Oh, please, babes. Do you really think I’m just gonna waltz off into the night and leave you high and dry? Where’s the fun in that? I’m not going anywhere, so you might as well get used to it. Can’t get rid of me.” His tone was teasing, but his eyes were softer, betraying a hint of sincerity as he looked at you.

"Really?" You asked, sounding somewhat unsure, "You won't- you won't leave me alone?"

"I won't leave you." He spoke, surprisingly serious, before he spoke up again - dark pink began to appear in his hair and beard - his grin growing, "Consider me your own personal demon, baby! And if you’re ever feeling lonely, well, let’s just say I’m always up for a little... Late-night company." He wiggled his eyebrows, making a giggle leave you - back to both of your old ways - you went to push him, half-expecting for your hand to phase through him, only to press against his chest. Your smile softened as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to his side. 

Feeling his cold lips press a somewhat sloppy kiss to your temple, you pulled away from him slightly, looking up at him as his bright eyes met yours. "Now that you're free... What else can you do?"

Beetlejuice grinned, the mischievous glint returning in his eyes, "Oh, baby," He almost growled, "You're in for a show!"

---

Main Masterlist | Beetlejuice The Musical Masterlist

[mwthesims3]

The Wainwright Residence

Over the years, many restoration attempts were done to this old, crippling mansion that once belonged to one of Freslock's oldest families. Some locals say the several tenants mysteriously vanished, but maybe the fixer-upper was just not worth the effort.

I started building this house live on the Purple Website on October 26, 2024, originally intended for Simblreen. Well, just now I managed to finish this lot and post it here!

This house is based on a floor plan I found on Instagram back in 2022 of a 1890s Victorian house from South Bend, Indiana (US), rather than some house from the same period in California.

Anyways, this is a residential lot and was built on 4 Defact Street, Freslock Bay (a 20x50 lot) in @potato-ballad-sims' Point Ouerbacker.

Requires some EPs (World Adventures, Ambitions, Late Night, Pets, Showtime, Supernatural, Seasons and University Life). No SPs. For the Store Content, requires the Now and Then set and the Roaring Heights world (I used a decrappified version though). Some CC required, specifially the ones included in Point Ouerbacker's d°wnload file and @aroundthesims' Decrepitude Set.

D0WNL0AD HERE

[xiaq]

[Mis]Adventures in House Hunting

Why do realtors think everyone wants ultramodern turn-key new builds/remodels that are all white and grey and awful?? I want a shabby mid-century modern in need of love. I want a Tudor with good bones. I will go absolutely feral for a victorian fixer-upper. Just give me wood floors and embellished doorknobs, curly wrought iron garden gates, casement windows, and pretty custom light fixtures. Give me character, whatever its form.

For god's sake, I want to live in a home with some color and whimsy and personality, not one that used to have all that before someone gutted it and now it's just a sad white-on-white shadow of its former self.

[kendo413]

Wenclair prompt

When Enid moves into a fixer upper (creepy) Victorian style house, her followers think she's being haunted by the ghost of a murdered woman who keeps showing up in the background of her selfies.

Nope. Surprise! Enid has a girlfriend, has just moved in with said girlfriend, and somehow the mystery girlfriend is already punishing Enid for some unclear reason by wearing Enid's least favorite dress every time they're at home together. Seriously it has like 12 buttons and at least one is always difficult to undo so it just kills the mood.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Someone in one of my groups submitted this "cheap charmer" fixer/upper that's down the block from her. It has potential and you can live in it while you fix it, little-by-little. I'm going to call it a 19th Century High Style home, b/c the front was clearly altered at some point. This home is in Cincinnati, OH, has 5bds, 6ba, & is priced at $260K. Let's have a look inside and see what needs to be done:

I really don't know what they did here, but they did something. This is not original. You can make it nice, though. This home is in the North Avondale section of Cincinnati.

The entrance hall has a vintage light fixture, curved ceiling and French doors. It's awfully dark. Why would they pick this color?

Thru the French doors, this room is the first one off the hall (enjoy the virtual staging).

Look at this fireplace- Thankfully, no one ruined the gorgeous carving on the surround. It's non-functional. I guess they didn't want to fix it, so they blocked it off. At least they left the firebox.

Across the way, there's this beautiful room in the tower. The fireplace looks wonderful in here, too, under the white paint.

Here it is, virtually staged.

The kitchen is a bit of a disaster. Right now, it has ample, but ugly, cabinetry and modern appliances. I mean, you can cook in here for now.

The cabinets are in rough shape- some are broken. I would at least paint it a livelier color.

Ugly door in the hall. Someone painted the original stairs and the beautifully carved finial. I don't think that the shelves are original, but they're not bad. A few balusters are broken- They're so delicately turned.

This staircase is beautiful.

There are remnants of its beauty- that's an original door on the right.

The primary bedroom is in the tower.

Virtually staged and cleaned up.

This would make a nice walk-in closet. Or, I'd take the wall back down, depending on the layout.

This bath was given a bad reno. The house has been cut up into odd rooms. I would take some of the walls down. You never know if you'll find something original.

The bedrooms are certainly angular. This one has an en-suite. I don't love the closet doors.

This room is just weird. Maybe it was a dressing room, b/c of the mirror?

The basement level is rough. It has lots of room, though.

I don't know why the cement is crumbling.

Is that a bar? If it is, this could be a super cool rec room.

They put this deck on the back. My parents painted their deck with this "redwood" paint and I was so angry- what made you do this? You're supposed to stain the wood.

I don't know if you could call this a patio. This poor house has been thru some ugly DIY renos. It's on a .32 acre lot.

Oh, the deck is on the side. Okay. They've got fire escapes, so that's up to code, I guess. There's a long driveway and potential for patios. So, they added the stone to the facade.

What did they do to this house? Looks like they blocked up a window on the left.

The yard extends back. It's a nice plot of land.

Nice mature tree and a pretty front yard.

This home deserves some love.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/997-Burton-Ave-Cincinnati-OH-45229/34227306_zpid/?

[cheapoldhousesunder50k]

Three Bedroom Alabama Victorian Home For Sale Under $140K

OHU50K Notes  $139,900 Located on a block with lovely older homes is this three-bedroom, two-bath Alabama Victorian home for sale. Take a look at that wrap-around porch, four fabulous fireplaces, hardwood floors, high ceilings, wainscoting and clawfoot, to name a few of the wonderful elements in this home. Realtor Comments They don’t build houses like this anymore! This 2-story 1925 home is…

[chaoticdesertdweller]

Marysville, Kansas c.1872

[mermaidsirennikita]

I just finished Between the Devil and Desire and would love any recommendations for similar class/upbringing difference historical romances.

Def have some of those! I focused on "upper class lady/lower class man" to run consistently with Between the Devil and Desire.

Duchess by Day, Mistress by Night by Stacy Reid--Similar dynamic. Widowed icy duchess hires this lower class powerful fixer man to help find her son's governess when she goes missing. Eventually, he'd rather something other than money as payment. It's super big on the class difference, and very hot.

For My Lady's Heart by Laura Kinsale--Medieval classic, heroine is a widow and a literal princess known for her icy nature, hero is a knight who pledged himself to her service thirteen years earlier but is only truly meeting her now, when he escorts her on a dangerous journey. Funny, angsty, very romantic.

How to Tame a Wild Rogue by Julie Anne Long--Heroine is a spinster refined lady who runs into a roguish privateer in the middle of a huge storm; they end up sharing a suite at an inn while pretending to be a married couple. A bottle episode kind of romcom with a bittersweet edge (heroine feels very undesirable and like she's wasted her life).

Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway--My favorite Callaway (thus far). A widowed countess reconnects with the man who gave her her first kiss when they were teens; he leads this underworld spy network type thing, and he's super scarred, so he wears a mask. It's REALLY hot (especially if you like some exhibitionism/voyeurism) and angsty and tender. The scene where he finally lets her see his face is so emotional.

Her Protector's Pleasure by Grace Callaway--Widowed lady (baroness, I think?) is looking for her daughter, who was taken from her years ago. She was pregnant by another man when she married her husband, and he became abusively resentful. She hires a lower class lawman to help her find the kid, and obviously he's INSTANTLY drawn to her.

Glory and the Master of Shadows by Grace Callaway--Heroine is the daughter of a duke, and the hero is a Chinese immigrant who becomes her mentor as she seeks to become a better... vigilante? (This series is like, Charlie's Angels but Victorian--it's GREAT.) It's so hot; there's some age gap vibes, master/pupil vibes. Grace is Chinese-Canadian, and she wrote the book with like, a wuxia inspiration in mind. Like I said, Wei (the hero) is Chinese; however, the heroine's father is actually half-Chinese as well, so there's a level of her learning about this background she's felt disconnected to.

The Prince of Broadway by Joanna Shupe--Heroine is the upper class daughter of an extremely influential man in New York, hero is a casino owner who hates her father and plans to use her for vengeance when she asks him to become her mentor. Actually, all three Uptown Girl books have this (the first one is the eldest daughter and their father's lawyer/fixer who came from nothing, third is the youngest daughter and a gangster).

Dearest Rogue by Elizabeth Hoyt--Heroine is a duke's sister; she's blind, so her brother hires this ex-soldier/captain of the guard type as her bodyguard. They have to go on a road trip to escape this guy who wants to kidnap her, and fall in love in the process.

Thief of Shadows by Elizabeth Hoyt--Heroine is a widowed lady, hero is a younger man/virgin/orphanage master. He's a masked vigilante, and she ends up picking him up after he's been injured; at first, there's this Zorro vibe where she doesn't know who he is, which is super cool.

Dreaming of You by Lisa Kleypas--Sara isn't super upper class but she is like, gentry; Derek was born in the slums, and their class difference is a huge obstacle (for him) when she begins shadowing him as she researches her book.

The Leopard Prince by Elizabeth Hoyt--Heroine is a fine lady who's inherited a property, and the hero is the steward of the property. They begin a passionate, secret affair.

Again the Magic by Lisa Kleypas--Heroine is an earl's daughter, while the hero is a servant on the property who grows up alongside her. They fall in love as teens, but her father makes her break his heart and send him away. Years later, he returns BENT ON REVENGE!!! So good.

Butterfly Swords by Jeannie Lin--Heroine is the emperor's daughter who escapes her wedding entourage after it's attacked. A mercenary begins escorting her across China, and they fall in love. Includes a fab scene wherein she's wearing a blindfold while doing some sword stuff with him and he toooouches her.

[deaths]

i saw a really specific tiktok about what house would you want to live in based on your baldurs gate love interest and astarion was like. a fixer upper you put a lot of time and love into that becomes a perfectly victorian house filled with patterns and colors. i could cry thats exactly it