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humanransome-note · 4 years ago

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cause im havin a good time~ havin a good time~

and soon you wont jk idk what yall feel after this

since my last keatlejuice fic ive seen the movie and joined a discord server and made sm friends and now im getting sappy~~

ive been awake since 1155pm and as i type this intro it is 910am

anyway to the fic, my OC Niphera smokes like an old steamer train and has what is probably an unhealthy relationship with keatlejuice but OGjuice having a healthy relationship with anyone seems pretty far fetched

also tw: a man unable to deal with an emotions so he lashes out and allusions to suicide nothing said explicitly but i figured its a good thing to warn about

other oc’s mentioned

Ivan- @jeuchrit

Zia- @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Smoke break, smoke break, time for my smoke break~

Niphera’s patting their pockets looking for their pack.

“Swear to god, I put ‘em in my pocket before I left...”

They push open the back door, growling at themselves and whatever cosmic force exists to keep them from enjoying their cigarettes.

“I didn’t die before thirty for this bullshit!” They announce to no one.

Their foot is jammed between the door and the frame just in case they can’t find their cancer pack. Useless though it may be.

They give up, slouching and letting out a frustrated breath. Throwing their head back, they’re ready to run back in when a flash of moving white catches their eye.

Stopping and leaning further into the alley, they look for whatever it was that moved. Holding still they stare at where the movement came from and wait.

Worst case, it’s some newly dead who panicked and bolted from the waiting room.

Don’t be some poor freshie, please, nothing kills the night like the feds...

They’re ready to shout out to whoever/whatever is down there when it moves again.

It’s not just white. It’s black and white.

There’s only one person they know who would wear something that ridiculous.

“BJ?” They lean closer. “That you?”

There’s no response, but the subtle movements seem to have stilled.

Taking their foot from the door they actually start walking towards (who they believe to be) Beetlejuice.

Ready to throw a punch in case it isn’t the ostentatious con man, they lighten their steps.

Finally coming around the pile of trash, they drop their shoulders and let out a sigh.

“BJ...” it’s the cheap bastard himself.

“The fuck, man?” He’s sitting on a crate slouched over with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and a slight scowl on his face.

He doesn’t say anything.

Niphera furrows their brow.

Okay... that’s weird...

Quickly they perk up. “Ya got a cigarette? I swear something is determined to deny me nicotine.”

He sits up and pulls a cigarette case from his inner pocket.

He cracks the small silver box open and extends his arm. Again he says nothing.

“Thanks...”

This is weird. Beetlejuice is someone who they’ve never known to willingly shut up, even when his mouth was otherwise, occupied.

They light up.

“No asking for something in return?” They take a drag. “No saying there’s something better I could put in my mouth?”

He grunts.

Okay, so nothing is (drastically) physically wrong.

“Not gonna ask how long I’ll be out here?”

“‘M not in the mood.”

What?

“What?”

“I’m not in the mood.”

He’s not in the mood?

“Who are you and what have you done with Beetlejuice?” They’re joking. Mostly.

He glares up at them, he even growls. And not the sexy sort.

“Okay, okay...” They put their hands up in surrender. “Can I sit down? Or are ya gonna bite?”

He looks down and grunts again.

They’ll take that as a yes.

They walk around and sit next to him on the crate.

So for a few minutes, the two of them just sit there and smoke.

Finally the worry pushes them to talk again. “Ya wanna talk about it?” They scrunch up their face. Smooth.

“What?” He sounds offended.

“I said, do you want to talk about it?” They haven’t turned to face him. It’s easier to talk when no one can see their face, so until told otherwise, Beetlejuice gets the same courtesy.

“What’d you care?” Now he sounds defensive.

They put the cigarette in their mouth and breathe in.

“Because contrary to every rational thought, warning, and general sense of self preservation I have, I care just enough about you to be worried.”

Maybe more than that. But let’s not dwell on it.

He doesn’t answer.

They’re not gonna push it, Beetlejuice is a lot of things, but level headed isn’t usually one of them.

He inhales. “Ain’t important”

They press their lips into a thin line then let out a huff.

“For fear of sounding like an after school special,” They pull another drag. “If it’s bothering you this much it is important.”

Again he doesn’t immediately answer.

After taking another drag he responds.

“Just some breather shit,” there’s a slight snarl to his answer, he probably doesn’t like feeling... things.

He throws the cigarette butt to the ground and crushes it under his foot. That’s when Niphera notices the small collection by his feet.

So he’s been out here for a while.

“General breather shit,” they swing their hand around and point up, “like the state of the world topside?”

“Or, your own, uhh, breather shit?” They flip their hand in his general direction.

It’s easy to forget that Beetlejuice used to be alive. Even some of the most acclimated they’ve met have a slight something to them, almost like a self mourning.

But he doesn’t have that, he’s never had that. Maybe that’s not such a good thing.

The silence Beetlejuice leaves is different, less defensive but still sharp.

“Okay, alright, dumb question.” They throw their own cigarette to the ground. “The day you show any kind of empathy is the day I start having a loving relationship with my father.” They extend their hand back for another cig.

“C’mon,” they open and close their fist “I ain’t trying some new wave yoga. Gimme another.”

There’s a noise, almost like a laugh, coming from the general direction of Beetlejuice. So this impulse, no baked plan is working.

They hear the click of the case, and feel as he places a fresh cigarette in their hand.

“Thank you.”

Again he grunts.

“Keep making that noise I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re crankin’ it.”

He snarls.

Alright, backpedal.

“I know that was a threat, but ‘cha ain’t really helpin’ your case.” They stick the cigarette in their mouth before the rest of their foot can get in there.

“I hate my job.”

Okay that’s a bit out of left field.

Niphera tries to make a joke “You and every other civil servant.”

All he says is “Yeah...”

Their brow furrows in confusion. What about deceased resources —

Oh.

Ohhhhhh

“Oh.”

This is way heavier than they were expecting. Beetlejuice is usually someone with very simple wants, needs, and motivations. (Booze, cash, coke, and a wet hole to stick his dick in) So hearing that something more complicated than blue balls is bothering him...

Niphera has probably bit off more than they can chew.

But, in for a penny...

“Something happen? Or’d it just come up and bitch slap you in the brain.”

You’re poking a bear, and not the one that comes to stare at Ivan’s ass every Tuesday.

“What’re you doing?” He’s angry, and he sounds like he’s trying to make an accusation.

They put up their hands.

“I asked if you wanted to talk about it. And so far you haven’t said no or told me to fuck off. So...” They shrug.

There’s tension in the air. And for the first time, in a long time, they’re not sure if they’re safe around Beetlejuice.

The crate creaks as Beetlejuice leans back and lets out a sigh. Niphera finally decides to turn around.

He’s deflated, not in the cartoony body horror way he did once when they stabbed him, he just looks exhausted.

Beetlejucie speaks “It was stupid.” It’s so soft they almost can’t hear it.

He continues, “Everyone says that and everyone’s right.” He leaves his cigarette in his mouth. “Life’s too short to end it for something like that.” He moves his hand down to his throat and just holds it there.

They knew how he died. It was one of the very, very few nights he didn’t have an overdo tab and enough cash to buy himself some decent liquor.

He got whiskey dick. (The biological functions of the deceased will always be a mystery, because how does that even work?) So instead of spending his money on company, he spent it on booze, a lot of booze.

Niphera doesn’t think they’ve ever seen someone that drunk before, he was babbling nonsense. Stuff about town models and the digestive system of sandworms, it was actually kind of funny.

But as the night wore on, the blabbering started getting dark. He talked about the smell of death and rot in the streets from when he was alive, how he’d wake up in the morning to wheelbarrows filled with still pliant corpses moving as fast as they could to get out of sight. People screaming at the sky and begging an absent god for mercy.

That’s when they cut him off. But he just kept talking.

They wanted to stop listening, but Beetlejuice sober was unpredictable, him tipsy even more so. So leaving him alone while he was up to his ears in alcohol was a no go, if not for the clubs safety than his own.

He was on his third glass of water when he started scratching at his neck.

—————————————

“Ni- Ni- phe- feee-fearaaa- pharaoh. Fuck!” He started slurring hours ago, but his attempts were still commendable.

“Yeah, BJ?” The club scene at Dante’s had been winding down for a while now, most of the people still out here were passed out or just too fucked up to go home, they eventually wouldn’t have a choice in the matter but until then, as long as nothing was getting broken Niphera didn’t care.

“C’mere.” He waves his hand in what they assume to be an attempt at a come hither motion, but it just looks like his wrist snapped.

“Ya need more water-!?” As they walk over, with a frightening amount of speed and precision he grabs the collar of their shirt.

He pulls them down to eye level, and with a disturbing amount of clarity he asks.

“Was it worth it?”

They don’t move.

“Was it worth it!?” He’s shouting now.

They can see movement by the door, Ivan’s getting ready in case something happens.

Looking back at Beetlejuice they calmly reply, “BJ, I don’t know what you're talking about.”

He tugs again at their collar.

“Was. It. Worth. It?”

Beetlejuice is shaking.

Slowly, so very slowly, they move their hands to his wrist. Gently they squeeze, and he lets go of their shirt but moves his hand to their throat.

He doesn’t squeeze, he just holds it there rubbing his thumb over the rough and charred strip around their neck.

“Was it worth it?” It’s barely a whisper that comes out, but with the way he’s holding their neck and looking at their throat they finally understand what he’s asking.

“Beetlejuice,” they tighten their hands around his wrist and pull, he lets go without a fight. “I didn’t do this to myself. We’re at Dante’s, I work here remember?”

He seems to be processing what they’re saying, if only barely.

Slowly they continue, “I wouldn’t be working here if I did this to myself.”

“It wasn’t worth it for me.” His eyes are still on their throat, but they’ve gone glassy.

Logically, they knew he sent himself here, that’s why he works in Deceased Resources. But hearing how he did it is still a punch to the gut.

“BJ...” They don’t know what to say.

“Babe,” he tries to focus his gaze “I think I’m gonna vomit.”

As soon as he finishes speaking they push him back.

Luckily for them it doesn’t get on or behind the bar.

Unluckily for Beetlejuice it gets all over him. And unluckily for the four employees still on the floor he was out like a light.

——————————

Shaking their head they bring themselves back to the present.

He’s looking at them with suspicion.

“Ya not gonna ask how? Or why?” The defenses are back up, they were probably giving him a thousand yard stare.

They try to take a drag of their cigarette, but find only the butt of it between their fingers.

How long were they staring?

Again they shake their head and throw the cigarette butt to the ground, grinding it beneath their shoe.

They stretch out their hand for another.

Beetlejuice doesn’t move.

They sigh, “I already know how, but I don’t know why, and frankly neither of those things are my business. Now ya gonna keep helping me disappoint my mother or do I gotta go back inside and start asking around the floor?” They don’t look at his face as they say any of that, they just stare at the hand with the cigarette case.

He doesn’t move, he’s stock still like the dead man he is.

Niphera’s afraid to move.

“How?” Beetlejuice’s voice is raspy but flat. Niphera thinks they would have preferred yelling.

“You told me.” They take in a shaky breath, “It was one of the nights you’d paid off your tab and had more cash to spare,” they decide not to tell him about his, uh, performance issues, “don’t know why you spent it on booze, didn’t care enough to ask.” They press a hand to their face, “Never seen you that sloshed before, first it was kinda funny, you were talkin’ about town models and complaining about sandworms.” They scrunch up their face and pinch the bridge of their nose.

“But as ya kept talking shit started getting dark, and not the fun macabre kinda dark like when ya brag about scaring Breathers. You were talkin’ like you were recounting the apocalypse. Dead bodies in the streets, people screaming for mercy from, and I quote “An absent and uncaring God” that’s when I cut you off.”

They move their hand from their face, but they still don’t look at him.

“Ya bitched about it for a bit, but then I got ya a glass of water and you acted like I gave ya the Blood of Christ or something so I just left you to it.”

They pause and take in another breath.

“It’s your third glass when ya start scratching at your neck, didn’t ask about it, figured you just weren’t used to having water and didn’t know what a properly hydrated throat felt like.” They don’t stop to see if the joke lands.

”Ya call me over, couldn’t say my name, called me “pharaoh,”

“You, uh, shit.” They press the palms of their hands to their eye sockets.

They’re trying to stall now.

“You grabbed my collar and yanked me down to eye level, and, uhhh...”

“Spit it out Niphera.”

God, why can’t he just start yelling?

“You asked me if it was worth it! Okay!”

It seems that the dam broke.

“You asked me if it was worth it, and I had no fucking clue what you were talking about and when I didn’t answer you asked me again yelling that time, Snuff actually had to get outta his seat by the door cause you looked like you were ready to do something. I got your hand off my shirt but then it went to my throat and you asked again if it was worth it!”

“Fucking hell Beetlejuice you were shaking! I was shaking! When I realized what you were asking it felt like I was gonna be sick. I tried telling you where you were, and who I was, cause I figured you were so fucked up that you had no fucking clue, suddenly you said “It wasn’t worth it for me.” Then you passed out.”

He doesn’t need to know he threw up on himself, not right now anyway, there’s too much other shit he has to process.

He doesn’t say anything, and the silence is deafening.

Niphera isn’t looking at him, but they put their hand back out for a cigarette.

Suddenly there’s a click and Niphera has a fresh cigarette in their hand.

“Thank you.” It’s quiet and hoarse compared to the previous word vomit, but anything louder and they feel like something is going to break.

“Does anyone else know?” His voice is still raspy but softer and more emotive than the monotone from before.

“I don’t think so? Snuff was still by the door when you fell and Velvet was at the other end of the bar.” They light up and take a drag of their cigarette.

“And before you ask, no, I didn’t tell anyone. Cause like I said earlier it’s none of my business.” They turn away from Beetlejuice and stare at the opposite wall, trying to read the dull worn out graffiti.

There are several long minutes of silence. In that time Niphera reads the word “tag”, tagged on the wall, some initials, and “for a good time call xxx-xxx-xxxx” which is just ridiculous considering this is the back alley behind a brothel.

Suddenly Beetlejuice breaks the silence. “It was over a woman believe it or not.”

They raise their hand and cut him off. “Don’t.”

They keep their hand up, but wave and flex it for emphasis. “I don’t need to know, and frankly, Beetlejuice, I don’t think I want to know.”

“What if I want you to know?”

At that, they stand up and turn to face him.

“Beetlejuice,”

“Niphera,”

They take a deep, long drag and sigh. “Beetlejuice, I’m, flattered? I guess? That you trust me enough to talk to me, but I really don’t think you’re in the right state of mind to talk about this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That means I think if you tell me anything more tonight, you’re going to regret it.”

He stands up from the crate and gets in their face.

“You asked if I wanted to talk, and now that I am your tellin’ me to shut up!”

“That’s not what I meant-“

“Certainly sounds like it.”

Niphera closes their eyes and grits their teeth.

They can hear the soft crackle of their hair as they take in a deep breath and let out a cloud of smoke that has nothing to do with the cigarette in their hand.

“Beetlejuice-“

“Doll face you keep saying my name like that I’ll start to think you care.”

He’s back to nicknames.

They take in another deep breathe and answer.

“That’s because I do ca-“

There’s a hand over their mouth.

He’s looking at them.

They’re looking back.

His face goes through some expressions, they’re too fast, and too different from his usual fare that Niphera can’t tell what they are.

He shakes his head.

“Fuck this.”

With that and a puff of smoke he’s gone.

Niphera just stares at where Beetlejuice just was. This is not what they expected when they went out for a smoke.

They breathe out a sigh and let their head drop. Something shiny catches their eye.

It’s BJ’s cigarette case.

They grab it, put it in their shirt pocket and head back inside.

ya know how when you want a fic but you actually gotta write it yourself? thats me with the sequel to this. It feels like the begining of smth not an entire thing but idk where to go from here, but i have been up for 9 hours so who knows~~

#Beetlejuice #keatlejuice #beetlejuice fanfiction #keatlejuice fanfiction #InfernoOC #inferno oc #beetlejuice 1988 #michael keaton #beetlejuice movie #beetlejuice x oc #beetlejuice x self insert #beetlejuice x niphera #i need a writing tag dont i?#nicky writes

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