#MUSICAL THEATER FANFICTION

[galwithalibrarycard]

prompt: only one bed for a musical of your choice!

- @folk-melody

Ooh thank you @folk-melody ! I'm currently still obsessed with the musical The Mad Ones, so even though there's very little audience for it, I wrote another Sam/Kelly fic for this prompt. Also on AO3. It's about Sam questioning her sexuality while on a class trip with Kelly.

before the light went out

Whenever Kelly slept over at Sam’s house, she used a futon on the floor of Sam’s room. The single twin bed Sam’s mom had bought her years ago wasn’t big enough for more than one person, and anyway, Kelly always said she liked sleeping on the floor. It was an adventure.

And it was a prime location from which to tickle Sam’s foot and make her think a monster was grabbing her leg. Kelly would work her up with a horror movie marathon, then lull her into a false sense of security until the time was right to pounce. Sam would scream like a little girl. Kelly would laugh and laugh until Sam couldn’t help herself. She had to laugh too.

It went on that way until their class trip to Washington DC in ninth grade. They stayed in a hotel, the first time Sam had ever done so in her life. The students were supposed to share rooms in groups of two each, girls with girls and boys with boys, of course. Everyone else got a twin bed each, plenty of room.

Sam and Kelly walked into their shared hotel room to find a single queen size bed. Sam’s breath caught in her chest.

Kelly just grinned and tossed her bag on the ground near her side of the bed.

          Sam had no reason to worry about sharing a bed with Kelly. Except for the fact that, when whispering to her on the bus earlier that day, she’d been visited by the strangest urge. Kelly had been talking about something, probably complaining about homework. Sam was never sure, because somewhere in there her eyes got stuck on Kelly’s lips, full and pink with gloss, and her brain malfunctioned.

What if you kissed her? asked the voice in Sam’s head. And she hadn't been able to stop thinking about it ever since.

It didn’t make sense. Why did Sam’s entire body feel hot at the idea of how soft Kelly’s lips looked? Why hadn’t she been able to look her in the eye? Why was she suddenly all nervous to share a bed with a girl she’d been hugging and holding hands and sharing sleepovers with for as long as she could remember?

         The thing was, Sam wasn’t gay. She couldn’t be gay, because she knew she had a crush on Adam. She sat with him in chemistry class, and she’d spent months feeling her cheeks heat and her stomach flutter every time they accidentally touched hands or she got caught staring at him too much. And it felt good. Really, really good.

So how was it possible, when she knew she liked boys, for Kelly Manning to suddenly be the one person she couldn’t stop thinking about kissing?

And how was she ever going to get through this night without Kelly noticing something was up?

         At least there was a TV and a mini fridge (no alcohol, though, which Kelly complained loudly about until Sam had to shush her in case a teacher might be passing by outside.)

The girls channel-surfed until they found a channel playing Bring It On. A classic, Kelly said. Sam quickly took the armchair, where she wouldn’t have to worry about her hands or legs brushing against the other girl. Any contact felt like too much, right now. Who knew what desires might come bursting through her mind, her body, if she let herself get close? There’d be no going back, then.

She hoped Kelly didn’t notice her glancing over at her every few moments. Sam was sure she was blushing.

        Maybe it was anxiety, she considered, after several more moments of unintended fantasizing about going over to Kelly and leaning in close. Just her brain and her hormonal body playing tricks on her. That had to be it, she told herself, forcing herself to laugh along with Kelly’s endless stream of gossip and sardonic jokes.

Everything was going fine. It had to be a fluke, this strange attraction. It would pass.

And yet…

        The time came to go to sleep, and Sam couldn’t avoid the bed much longer. She brushed her teeth fast, heart hammering, and raced back to the bed. If she got in first, she wouldn’t be taking up any of Kelly’s space. Kelly could decide how close to lie next to her, and Sam couldn’t be to blame for touching her. Sam faced the wall so she wouldn’t see Kelly’s face, wouldn’t start thinking about her mouth again.

Still, she couldn’t stay closed off for long.

“Hey, you okay?” Kelly said, from behind her. “You seem tense.”

“I- uh- oh.” Sam mumbled. “Just… homesick, I guess.”

“Aw, that’s okay, dork. You got me.”

Kelly slipped into bed, tickling Sam’s sides until she shrieked and turned around, tickling Kelly right back. Her mind cleared, and it was just her and Kelly again, easy as anything.

“That’s more like it, Brown,” Kelly laughed triumphantly as they collapsed in a heap, all tickled-out.

         Sam grinned, eyes closed, as she tried to catch her breath. She could feel Kelly’s warmth beside her and smell the light, fruity scent of her hair on the pillow. Kelly turned on her side to face Sam, taking her hand. Her heart clenched at the mischievous grin Kelly flashed her, before the light went out.

Suddenly, she was aware that her skin felt on fire where Kelly was touching her. It was a good kind of discomfort, the heady rush of newfound closeness in the dark. Going by feel, she pressed her forehead to Kelly’s and the thought of kissing her flitted through Sam’s brainagain, and she tried her best not to tense up, not to let Kelly know.

         Later on, years later on, Sam would wrack her brain, but she would never quite be able to remember what they talked about that night. What she did remember was falling asleep with Kelly’s hand in hers. She remembered waking up the next day, wrapped in Kelly’s arms, one of her best friend’s legs draped over both her own, and it felt so good.

She remembered lying perfectly still, trying not to wake Kelly, because she never wanted this perfect, comforting closeness to end. Kelly’s eyes, blinking open, bleary with sleep. And the impulsive, tender little kiss that she pressed to Sam’s forehead, just above her hairline. Sam felt it all the way down to her toes.

It was almost like Kelly knew. Like maybe, somehow, she’d been thinking about kissing Sam that night too.

           Sam had wanted so badly to kiss her back. But that would be weird. Her 15-year-old self had been convinced that, if Kelly had known how Sam was really thinking about her, she’d never have kissed her at all. She’d never have shared her room, much less her bed. It would be wrong to kiss Kelly back without telling her the truth, and what would be the point of that, if Sam wasn’t even really gay?

As she got older, as the memory of Kelly slipped further away from her, Sam would find herself looking back on that time in the hotel room a lot. Kelly’s lips were so soft, even just against her forehead. She was on autopilot the rest of that day, caught between anxiety and bliss, replaying the moment in her mind.

On the bus ride home, Kelly fell asleep again, with her head resting gently on Sam’s shoulder, and Sam never ever wanted the bus to stop.

          For the rest of their friendship, whenever Kelly slept over, Sam joined her on the futon. At least she could enjoy that easy closeness, Kelly pressed softly against her in sleep. It didn’t have to mean anything, she had always told herself.

Kelly was her person, but she was scared, and confused. She ignored her feelings for Kelly, embraced her feelings for Adam instead. The thoughts of kissing Kelly became less frequent, once Sam started dating Adam, but they never went away for good.

She knew, now, as an adult, what she couldn’t understand back then- that she didn’t have to be gay in order to kiss girls, and she didn’t have to be straight in order to like dating boys. And she didn't have to understand her feelings, in order to be in love with her best friend.

They never talked about it, and Sam never kissed Kelly, on the forehead or anywhere else, and now she never could.

She still thought about it, though. Sometimes.

***

Note: This one's pretty personal to me. When I started questioning, it felt like anxiety. It felt like intrusive thoughts. It felt like something bad. It took awhile to learn that it was something good, and I didn't need to be afraid of who I am. Sam Brown reads to me like an anxious bisexual who grew up not knowing bisexuality existed, but mired in the culture's homophobia enough to be terrified when she started to figure it out. This is an ode to that Samantha, and to me, and to you, if you can relate.

[ya-what--ya-erster]

I thought I’d share

I’ve been putting together an AU where Jack Kelly grows up to be Jay Gatsby who if you want here’s some key points

Nick is replaced with Davey

Recognized from war changes to recognized from the strike

They probably still both fought in the war but it will stay slightly insignificant until the end

Jay Gatsby was once Jack Kelly

Became rich for Katherine ✨ because after the strike obvs Jack had to go to war and Katherine thought he had died!! Some years after the war ended Jack became Jay and built his mansion across the bay from Katherine and one of the Delancey brothers because why not (he needs to be a jerk like Tom so it works)

Davey's POV just like it’s Nicks in the book

Probably leave Jordan as Jordan

Medda to replace the one old guy who Gatsby called an old best friend

Instead of an empty funeral, Davey tracks down all the old newsies that survived the war and they all collectively mourn the loss of their cowboy and the loss of all the other newsies lost in the war

[razbrry]

may i request grell w/ an s/o who has the opposite personality as her at first but when the two got closer they sometimes show their more dramatic and sassy side pls?

also s/o is into artsy things like drawing, writing, theatre, fashion, etc.

note💋— i read 'drawing, writing, theatre, fashion' and immediately screamed. you're so cool, anon!!!

with you, being the seemingly opposite artsy lover showing of their sass— ft. grell sutcliff

grell loves you, you’re like a chia pet

in the best way possible of course X3

you’re basically the glue to the relationship, such serene energy!

your passion for all things of the arts intrigues grell, it’s one of the reasons she fell for you.

does grell appreciate art and writing like you do? you know what, not as much.

but theatre and fashion? … we’ll get into that later

she finds such pride being seen with someone reading a book.

with no pictures? reaaaaally??

“wahhj! you’re so deep, s/o!”

she thinks the way you carry yourself compliments her so well.

that’s like an amazing achievement, good job!

and oh dear me, you’re always so well dressed and accessorized

like, could she even fall further in love with you?

glaring at viscount druitt together from affar.

“now, is he really in the place to be that full of himself?… even for my likings, he sure knows how to girl out.” grell shudders.

batting your eyelashes, you shake your head slowly. “praying for the day he realizes nobody likes him. that poor, poor thing.”

ok so grell is screaming like a banshee

where you trying to imitate her? that’s cute!

no you weren’t, but okay.

she believed you where just trying to fit in with her sense of style for a good while until it kept repeating itself, looking more real by the second.

your eye rolls, she loves them so much hello???

you’d get feisty at the most uncalled for times.

ouuu…

you are SO her type.

and the way you two yap about theatre like there’s no tomorrow is so much fun

you and grell 100% go see productions together when she’s off work.

both of your eyes lighting up, analyzing the pretty set, costumes and props of the performance

if this WASN’T in the victorian era, grell’s favorite musical would be ‘chicago’

HANDSDOWN.

nono, and lets talk about your art.

most of the time she sees you, you’re holding that sketchbook like it’s nobody’s business.

and *it is* quite literally nobody’s business.

meaning the grell has been dying to take a peek at what you’ve been scribbling in there.

many attempts of her trying to shimmy her way to grab is away, just for you to snatch it back dramatically.

she cackles every time

and when you eventually give in, she is AWESTRUCK.

grell is staring at those pages.

cricket cricket cricket

kind of embarrassing. does she like them or not?

her face is in fact burning up! you have the cutest little doodles and sketches of her.

she’s going to tease you about this every time she gets the cue to. congrats!!!

seriously, she loves all of your little artistic interests.

“paint me like one of your french girls”

no grell, we’re not painting you naked. :(

maybe

[lilcalliee]

hear me out:

Fanfics with specific interests/jobs that you can tell the author has a great deal of knowledge of.

Like Teacher AUs and Doctor AUs are great and dandy and I'll eat them up every time. But like...

Where are my Cavern Tour Guide AUs and my UIL One Act Play AUs? I'm planning on writing some myself. But just know that if you have a niche interest or a specific job you have lots of knowledge in, it could make a really cool plotline.

As a theatre kid who works at a cavern tourist attraction, I would be able to put SO much detail and info into these stories, which I think would make it so much fun. Would people be interested in them?? I dunno.

But like Jegulus as Tour Guides for the same caverns would be so cute.

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

#13 (“you make me feel safe”) from the angst/fluff prompt list

Hi hi, thank you for the ask!!

New Christian/Satine Moulin Rouge! fic alert!

darling, whenever i try to tell you my voice gets caught (i’ve been breaking down doors to reach you but the words stay locked)

With Christian’s support, Satine learns that it’s okay to express her discomfort and dislikes.

Read it now on AO3!

[theatrekidstatus]

Eliza: hey wanna show daddy your counting and poems

Phillip: no I’m good

Eliza: *breaths in*

Eliza:LISTEN IN HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT IVE BEEN PRACTICING MY BEAT BOXING FOR 2 MONTHS YOUR GONNA RECITE YO POEM

Alex:Honey you ok

Eliza:THERE IS A SURPRISE BEFORE SUPPER AND IT CANT WAIT

Alex:well-

Eliza:IT CANNOT WAIT

[poor-ogrizok]

Need your help

I'm doing research on the relationship between watching Hamilton on Disney+ and seeing a live show for my university.

We really need your help! 🥺

Please share the survey with those who are willing to participate 🙏

The link to the questionnaire in Google Forms: https://docs.google.com/forms/u/1/d/e/1FAIpQLSe5Aflxv1-3oHy9XaiWMlyMkbHeMcUEH1BdeOtvbb79v4OnPA/viewform

It won't take longer than 5 mins.

Thank you in advance 🙏

[musical-shit-show]

isn't it delicate?

Pairing: Musical!Beetlejuice x Reader

Inspiration: Prompts #1 (“did…did you just kiss me?”) and #2 (“i didn’t mean to say that but yeah, i love you.”) from Prompt List 2, requested by @animetattoochick

Warnings: cursing, sexual innuendo, fluff

Word Count: 2,701

Author’s Note: Thank you for your patience on this one! I really haven’t been feeling very inspired lately, but I’m so glad I was able to finish this request. I have one more in my inbox currently but after that I think I may be able to get a couple other one shots out before the end of the year. I always love this time of year and I tend to feel more inspired around the holidays, so hopefully I’ll have the time to write more! As always check out my Masterlist, About Me page, or Prompt Lists if you’d like to submit an ask! Happy reading :)

“So…any men in your life I should know about while you’re up there?”

“Mom! That’s…no. Not…really, no.”

“Well, alright. That wasn’t very convincing, but I’ll take it,” your mother mused over the phone, only slightly teasing, “Just, tell me: are those people being good hosts? What were their names again—?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. Your mom was always the forgetful type, “Charles and Delia. And their daughter, Lydia. She’s about sixteen, I think? Cute kid.”

You didn’t feel like you should mention the fact that your new teenage counterpart only wore black and was incredibly morbid, or that two ghosts occupied the attic, or that you were frequently plagued by a literal demon.

If you told your mom any of that, odds were that she’d drop dead from shock.

Ever since you started renting out the Deetz’ third bedroom in their Connecticut home, you tried to keep the details to a minimum when talking to your family. All they knew was that you had moved hundreds of miles away for your dream job, which was true; what they didn’t need to know what that you practically lived in a haunted house.

For the first few weeks you lived there, everything was relatively normal. Delia and Charles were in the city most days, and when you got home from work, Lydia was usually at the kitchen table doing her homework or in the attic. One day, you were headed to your room when you heard concerned whispers coming from the other side of the attic door.

“I just don’t know if now is the right time to tell her, you know?” you heard an older male’s voice say, his tone clearly distressed. You couldn’t help but wonder who Lydia was talking to given that Charles had been gone for a few days.

“Adam, it’s been weeks!” Lydia shot back, “Besides, I’m worried if we wait too long, you know who might show up and scare her away. You know how he gets.”

“She does have a point, hon,” this time, a sweeter woman’s voice spoke, “Besides, I think she’ll take it well. She gets along with Lydia just fine, doesn’t she?”

“Of course! If I just explain—”

“Okay, okay,” the voice now identified as Adam cut in, “I was getting a little sick of hiding up in the attic again.”

You heard the old door creaking open and bolted to your room, shutting your own door as quietly as you could. You stood at the foot of your bed, utterly confused.

Who were those people?

When did they manage to sneak into the attic?

And why the fuck was Lydia keeping some huge secret from you?

You thought you had a good rapport with her, given that you were several years her senior and were getting along with her alright. You maybe even could see yourself taking on an older sibling role, especially since she didn’t have any of her own and few friends at school.

Plus, you could tell she had a hard time opening up. As your mind slowed, you realized she would only come to you when she was ready. Whatever weird shit was going on would become your business when she finally told you.

It didn’t take long after your adventure in snooping.

A few days later, you heard a soft knock on your door and Lydia’s small frame peaked through the door. “Come on in,” you smiled, closing your laptop, “I was just checking out dinner options, how does pizza sound?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” she replied, uncharacteristically timid, “Pizza sounds great.” An awkward silence filled the air as she sat down on the edge of the bed, the buckles on her black chunky boots jangling slightly, “So…I have to tell you something.”

“I figured.”

“It’s just…I don’t want to freak you out or anything,” she began gingerly, “I haven’t told anyone about this, but since I like you and you’re living here, I thought it’s only fair—”

She was very sweet for beating around the bush, but you couldn’t keep it in anymore, “Is this about your two friends you’ve been sneaking in? Because honestly, Lydia, it’s completely fine if you have people over, you’re not bothering me—”

“What, no, I—” Lydia stared at your incredulously, “How did you—?”

“I heard you all talking the other day,” you confessed, finding her teenage antics a little endearing, “You aren’t exactly the quietest bunch, but like I said, I don’t mind.”

Lydia shook her head, not wanting anything about her situation to be misconstrued, “No, you don’t understand. Adam and Barbara, they aren’t friends from school or anything like that. They live here.”

You blink stupidly.

“Or, I guess lived here.”

You grew even more confused.

“I’m not sure I understand,” you said, a small laugh escaping your lips.

“They’re dead,” Lydia finally stated, unsure how to make herself any clearer, “Ghosts. They died here before me, my dad and Delia moved in. And…since you’ve been here, they’ve been staying in the attic.”

You laughed involuntarily. You couldn’t help it.

Surely this teenager was fucking with you.

But as silence once again permeated the room, Lydia stared at you earnestly, not breaking into a mischievous smile or shouting a good “gotcha!”.

“Oh,” you muttered, “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Cool. Ghosts are real. I can handle that.”

“Yeah, you seem really calm right now. It’s kinda freaking me out.”

“I’m good,” you reassured her. Or maybe you were just reassuring yourself? “I am. Just…processing.”

The existence of ghosts didn’t surprise you that much, but you were obviously way off when it came to Lydia’s secret. In your defense, you were busy with the move and your job and everything else, how could you notice anything strange going on?

“There’s something else too,” Lydia said quietly, swinging her chunky black boots off the bed and landing on the floor with a thud, “Or, I guess, someone. His name is, well, I usually call him Beej. He’s like a super chaotic ghost or demon, I’m not really sure. It’s a long story…”

She shifted on the bed again. “Anyways, I met him pretty quickly after we moved here, and, well, he’s kind of…a lot. And he left for a bit, but he and I are actually friends. Real friends, not like before. Like I said, long story, but I just wanted to tell you in case he shows up here and—”

Before Lydia could finish, a flash of green light illuminated the room, and the figure that appeared before you was the strangest man you had ever seen.

He donned a hideous black and white striped suit that appeared to be falling apart at the seams, and his hair was a violent shade of green that actually made you wince. His skin was sickly pale, and the tattered overcoat he wore to round out the ensemble shed dust and dirt particles with every movement.

“Lyds!” he shouted, his voice grating and coarse, “My ears were burning; were you talking about me, oh best friend of mine?” He tousled the teen’s hair, much to her dismay. Before Lydia could answer, he turned his attention to you.

Eyeing you up and down, the man cocked his head to this side. You felt a light tingle on the back of your neck; why did you suddenly feel like you were being hunted?

“And who do we have here?” he purred, a Cheshire cat smile spreading across his face, “Babysitter?”

“I’m sixteen, asshole. I don’t need a babysitter,” Lydia chimed.

You told him your name, and considered extending your hand in formality. That idea quickly disintegrated when you saw how grimy his hands looked, fingers black at their tips in a clear indication of decay.

“I, uh, live in the guest bedroom,” you choked out, “And your name is…?”

“Wish I could tell, ya, babe,” he said with a chuckle, running his tongue across his slightly jagged teeth, “I like to say I’m the ghost with the most, but you can call me whatever you like—”

Lydia was quick to cut him off from the incessant attempts at flirting, and you learned his real name was Beetlejuice. He winced at the sound, and the more he and the younger girl told you about their escapades, the more enthralled you became.

Before you could fully process all the insane information the duo was throwing at you, Beetlejuice left, citing a bio-exorcism that needed attending to. You made a mental note to have Lydia explain that in greater detail later. With a *pop* and a puff of green smoke, he was gone.

But not for long.

Over the next few months, Beetlejuice’s visits became more and more frequent, much to the dismay of everyone else in the house, living and dead.

Except for you.

You found him utterly fascinating, despite his shocking outward appearance and often lascivious gaze. Yes, he was a dead guy, but he always made an effort to ask you about your life, even if it was followed up by a crude joke or bad pick-up line. When he wasn’t tormenting the other inhabitants of the Deetz residence, he was almost…sweet to you.

Of course, his sweetness was usually undercut with his sleazy tendencies; Though you knew he liked getting a rise out of you and you would often bicker with him on purpose. Even as you performed mundane tasks, you could tell he was leering at you, studying your every move.

You thought you were alone while on the phone with your mother, but Beetlejuice had become sneakier; this time he was listening outside your room, floating inches above the floor so his shadow couldn’t be seen under the doorframe.

“Anyways, no, there’s, uh, no guy,” you said sheepishly, your tone coming out more bitter than you intended. “You know I’d tell you, Ma.”

“I know, honey,” she said, her voice comforting you, “Just, try to make some friends, okay? We miss you and I don’t want you to be lonely.”

For some reason this made tears well up in your eyes. “I miss you too,” you choked, masking your sob with a cough, “And uh, I’ll try, don’t worry. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” There was a pause on the other end. Your mom knew you were crying, which made you want to cry even more.

“Okay,” she said, not wanting to upset you further. She knew you too well, “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Your phone beeped and then returned to your home screen, and you let out a heavy sigh. A few tears dropped onto your jeans, the salt stinging your eyes.

“Who made you cry?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Beetlejuice materialized next to you, a few strands of his hair sprouting red at the roots. You shook your head in dispute.

“No, it was just my mom—”

“Oh, typical mothers. They really are the worst sometimes. Y’know, did I ever tell you how my mom—”

“Beej!” you cut him off before he went on another one of his rants, “I know. I’m sure you’ve told me. But no, she didn’t make me cry.” You wiped a stray tear away from your face and sniffled, feeling pathetic. “I guess I’m just a bit homesick.”

His hair instantly reverted back to its original state of vibrant green as he sat down on the bed next to you. “Oh…right,” he said, twiddling his thumbs, “You breathers can get so…sensitive sometimes, huh?”

You laughed dryly. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” It didn’t take long at all for you to see that Beetlejuice was a big softy, even though he liked to tease and scare you on an almost daily basis.

You didn’t mind, not even a little bit. Because against your better judgement, you found yourself developing feelings for him. Weirdly strong feelings. And you weren’t sure what that meant with him, well, being dead and all.

That fact didn’t seem to matter when he took your hand in his, your warm palm contrasting with his almost frigid skin. You felt yourself shiver, and you weren’t sure if it was from the sudden temperature change or the physical contact.

“I’m uh, not really good with this shit,” he said indelicately, “But I like having you around. Usually, I spend all my time either in the Netherworld or scaring the life outta breathers but…I didn’t want to come back to this house that much until you showed up. So…thanks for that.”   

He ran his thumb across the back of your hand, the gesture making your insides churn.

“Plus, if you were gone, I’d lose my eye candy,” he added, making you instantly blush and let out a laugh, “Adam’s hot and all, but you might just have him beat—"

You couldn’t help it. You kissed him. Your eyes were still red from residual tears, and he was a demon, and you tasted the faintest earthy flavor on your lips, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about any of those facts.

It was a fairly chaste kiss, only lasting a few moments before you pulled away. Instantly Beetlejuice’s hair started sprouting a light pink color.

“Did…did you just kiss me?” he asked in disbelief. He was usually the one doing the kissing, or groping, or endless propositioning.

A sheepish laugh escaped your throat, your palms instantly moistening with nervous sweat. “Uh, yeah?” you croaked, “Is that alright?” Beetlejuice looked utterly dumbfounded.

“Alright?” he laughed. If he were still alive, his heart would’ve fluttered. “Babe, more than alright, I loved it! Shit, I’ve loved every second you’ve been in this boring ass house…because I love you.”

The realization came to the demon as soon as the words left his lips. He didn’t even register what he had said until you muttered, “you love me?”

Fuck.

‘Well,’ the demon thought, ‘no going back now’. He couldn’t detect whether you were pleased or creeped out by the sudden escalation, but decided to trudge forward through the emotionally honest deep end he had unwittingly dove into.

“Erm…” now it was his turn to be sheepish, “I didn’t mean to say that but yeah, I love you. Sorry to one up you, babe, but if you wanna go back to making out, you won’t get any complaints outta me.”

Even as he cracked jokes, he could feel his anxiety rising to his hair, which was slowly turning a sickly shade of yellow that mixed with the pink strands. He held his nonexistent breath as a wide grin spread across your face.

“Oh Beej, I love you too,” you said, finally able to put words to the ache you’ve felt for him for weeks, “Even though you’re a complete perv who shouldn’t have been spying on me in the first place.”

He scoffed at the accusation. “Look babe, let’s not forget who kissed who first,” he reminded, tracing his fingers along your arm. His hair was now a vibrant pink. “Though I wouldn’t mind going in for round two—”

“Round two of what, exactly?!” Lydia burst through the door, causing the two of you to jump away from each other on the bed. “Or do I even want to know.” The young girl looked disgusted at the thought.

“Jesus Christ, Lyds, ever heard of knockin’?!” Beetlejuice admonished. It was so big brother of him it almost made you burst out laughing.

“Yeah, I wonder where she got the spying from,” you deadpanned, your gaze flickered between the both of them before landing on Lydia, “We’ll meet you downstairs in a minute to talk, alright?”

She crossed her arms across her chest before stomping down the steps, yelling out a “No funny business!” for good measure, utterly embarrassing you and tickling Beetlejuice all at once.

You made a mental note to banish him the next time you talk to your mom; the fact that you were now dating a literal dead guy would not be a topic of discussion on the next phone call, and you didn’t need Beetlejuice butting in to introduce himself as her future son-in-law.

----

thanks for reading! please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed! :)

[the-marauders-are-ghosts]

i’m always so disappointed when people post dress as a meme day/party and no one dresses as Thomas Jefferson in his miku binder

[lilacthebooklover]

me, age 11, finding out fanfiction exists through @charismabee telling me about the harry potter au she made with her friend:

[thisweekinfandomhistory]

He's darkness! He's vengeance! This week, V and Emily look at the uniquely nerdy StarKid fandom and their superhero parody musical, HOLY MUSICAL B@MAN! (That's "B@man," not "Batman," in case Warner Brothers asks.) They look at the way StarKid musicals feel like your Tumblr dashboard, how Sean Astin will do basically anything you ask him to do apparently, and how absolutely insufferable your hosts were as high school theatre kids. (Yes, theatre, not theater. That's how insufferable.) Musical references abound! And, amazingly, we understand a joke in the show BECAUSE OF A PREVIOUS EPISODE OF TWIFH!

This Week In Fandom History is a fandom-centric podcast that tells you… what happened this week in fandom history!

[thephantomofanastasia]

My Name is Anya is a new Gleb and Anya fic that I wrote.

"An alternate ending for Anastasia the Musical. Anya makes a decision about her future. She tries to track Gleb down at a train station before he departs Paris after their confrontation the previous night."

[pattypanini]

Lay All Your Love On Me- Preview

Main: Josh Kiszka x Reader

and Jake Kiszka x Reader

Summary: During your Junior year at the University of Michigan your part as Sophie in the Mamma Mia musical leads you to much more than just a role. Your infuriating love interest, Josh Kiszka, is far from being your lover. When your part is threatened to be taken away due to lack of connection, you’re forced to get closer, in more ways than one. But will that be interfered when another Kiszka steps into your life?

AN: Hello everyone! This is a collaboration between me and my friend @mar-rein12! We have worked hard on this for the past month. We plan on posting 1 or 2 times a week and will continue to write while posting. We hope you enjoy our first fanfic, we will continue to sharpen our writing skills as time goes on. Hope you enjoy and please share with your friends!

FIRST POST TOMORROW 3/5/24

Here is the playlist for the series! These are songs that are mentioned and give the vibe of it all: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5bRQ46avtbLVfe6VwXHec2?si=be43e1731c3b47ea

Warnings: 18+ Guys this is actually diabolical stuff we have going on here. Lots of penetrative sex, oral, fingering, dirty talk, degrading, praise, sub and dom, making out, talk of divorce, drugs, alcohol, cursing, fluff, mutual masturbation, may be more as time goes on but they will be chapter specific.

[amethyst-writer]

ask me anything about the outsiders (musical book or movie) plz i’m hyperfixating on it again and want to rantttt

[ethereal-bumble-bee]

(Finally!!!!) Chapter 14 of When the World Falls Into Anarchy is out!!

when the world falls into anarchy (16049 words) by etherealbumblebee Chapters: 14/? Fandom: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies (1992), Newsies: The Broadway Musical! (2017) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, Albert DaSilva/Finch (Newsies), Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Crutchie/Albert DaSilva (Newsies), Bill Hearst/Darcy Reid Characters: Spot Conlon, Racetrack Higgins, Finch (Newsies), Albert DaSilva (Newsies), Jack Kelly (Newsies), Crutchie (Newsies), Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, David Jacobs, Les Jacobs, Bill Hearst, Darcy Reid Additional Tags: Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Post-Apocalypse, Danger, Survival Summary: One month. It’d been one month since the first signs of the plague showed up, since the first person became mad with fever and insane with bloodlust, since the disease had ravaged the world until there was nothing left. Spot had been lucky somehow, able to stay far from the infected, but as far as he could tell, he’d been the only one. … One month after the outbreak of a disease that turned the whole world on its head, Spot Conlon must navigate his way through a world no longer safe to walk in, seeking safety alongside several other survivors. When the world falls into anarchy, who will be able to see their way through?

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

New Christian/Satine Moulin Rouge! fic alert!

i wanna breathe your air, press your chest against mine (think i know now what life should have been like)

A chance meeting and an even more unlikely (and anonymous) reunion give Satine an opportunity to escape the cycle of violence she’s stuck in and achieve the one thing she’s always wanted but never thought she could have: safety. She isn’t certain she’s brave enough to take that leap but if she does, Satine thinks she might actually trust Christian to catch her before she hits the ground.

Read it now on AO3!