#a softer netherworld

[rosiebeetle]

Different beetlejuice headcannons I have depending on actor!!! Because this is my account and why not :3 (tw for mentions of hanging and homophobia a long with abuse. Iget very srs when it comes to my juice lore)

Justinjuice: adhd/hyper compulsive pan/non binary sowhere under the I don't give a fuck umbrella yk doesn't care what pronoun you use. He definitely was a human or "breather" before death but he died somewhere in the 1700s maybe 1600s (Pilgrim times you get the gist) he was sentenced to death by hanging because him and his lover got caught together once (kissing.. Get your mind out of the gutter) his past lover just so happened to look like Adam and have the same name. Past lover was able to escape while bj unfortunately did not. That is the reason he is so drawn to Adam but he doesn't know that because he doesn't remember anything from his past besides a few flash memories. (This hc based on me and my girlfriends au rp thing we have) Juno was absolute trash to him but still lied and said he was her son. Juno basically forced him into the human world to watch the maitlands since they were important and needed to die and go to the netherworld quick he also has BPD or bi polar because I say so and I like projecting

Brightjuice: autistic mainly highly sensitive to touch and lights and stuff also very needs to move at all times or he will start exploding (his head tilts t Rex arms ect) greysexual/bi and genderfluid (mainly he/her) he was definitely a born dead, Juno in my opinion TRIED to be a good mother but grew tired of his autistic meltdowns fast and quickly became a bad one. The reason why I think he's more of a born dead is because of his actions and maneruisms (idk how to spell it sorry..) He's very unhuman like especially compared to all the other juices (very buggy twitchy, not very good at being among the living)

Koberjuice: definitely a mix of audhd definitely on the spectrum there more sensory than hyper, hates fur like absolutely despises the feeling (very specific ik shush) but like the scratchy fur they put on those shitty stools at Burlington and the fur on short hair dogs (like pitbulls) but long softer furs like bunnys and cats is ok it just has to be soft. Very bi and doesn't really have a gender label he just likes he/she sometimes they and enjoys it when people asks what hes feeling today. Also a born dead but unlike brightjuice he never really spent much time with other dead people, Juno was a shit mother to begin with so to escape he hung around humans a lot putting on a humany look to avoid people hating him but in his early 20s Juno found out and cursed him (I unfortunately do not have a koberjuice gif.. So have this!)

Blumjuice (just what I've taken from the clips since I have watched a full boot so sorry if this is more out of character..): adhd like justinjuice very hyper likes to move and stuff and just very touchy he likes touchy touchy things yk the type of guy to go to a craft store or home Depot just to touch shit. Also bi but more he/they than she, it's very rare that he likes she to be used but there are times. Also was a human before dieing but he died more roaring 20s from getting involved with some bad people (hence the whole suit and style) stayed very connected with the world after becoming a demon though, not COMPLETELY dumb about technology but he does need help using it though (again.. No gif of hin.. Forgive me stolen from erynn COUGH)

[chaoticstanley]

Beetlebabes dni (seriously fuck off)

So, my current hyperfixation is Beetlejuice, movie, cartoon, and musical. But I have all the Beetlejuice cartoons on file so as I was watching, I decided to redesign Lydia and Beej in the show’s style for my own fic I’m working on. I added silhouettes of the show’s designs as a comparison. And I finalized my OC as a bonus. So here’s some info about Bj and Lydia. I’ll explain my OC some other time.

Beetlejuice:

I used all iterations of him as inspiration, but in terms of visual, it’s mostly the musical and cartoon. Gave him his green hair and also a mullet cause... Idk I think it looks good. But in terms of personality, it’s a nice combo of all three. He’s a lot more nastier and violent than his toon counterpart, but still retains some of the sensitivity showed in the show. For example, he’s still protective of Lydia, but instead of simply putting beetles in a bully’s hair, he’ll genuinely traumatize them with a scare or straight up try and kill them. He’s still a handsy and overtly sexual being like in the movie/musical. Instead of responding to emotional rejection (outside of flirtatious contexts) with a depressive episode like the show, he gets very angry and vengeful. He’s petty, selfish and a conniving ass like all three iterations. But he’s not as dumb as his toon counterpart. He’s irrational and acts before he thinks sure, but when it comes to being a trickster, he’s more thoughtful and malicious like the movie version.

His relationship with Lydia is a big brother/little sister type. She’s one of the very select few who’s ever gotten past his walls. He’s protective of her and always encourages her interests in the gross, rude, and dead. But he’s less affectionate than the show/musical. He’s not a big fan of pda and just barely tolerates her occasional hug. He and Lydia are the type of friends that exchange insults and petty barbs as a way of showing how they care.

A brief note on his most common alter ego, Bettyjuice. I modernized her into an egirl because the aesthetic is perfect with all the stripes. She’s pretty much the same as the show; gross, rude, and impulsive. But I made her too pretty unfortunately. I kept leaning towards cute with certain attributes like the added beanie and her adorable tummy, so that’ll probably be tweaked in the future, but we’ll see. I do like this design a lot even though it’s not gross enough.

Lydia:

Again, all iterations were an inspiration. Her Netherworld design is just a more aged up version of the original poncho, but I added a touch more purple at the forefront to reflect her personality. And her normal design is more muted just as a contrast to the Netherworld to make it seem mundane in comparison. In terms of personality, she’s got the character development of the musical. She’s still deadpanned and sarcastic like the movie/musical, but she’s much softer and more sweet like her toon counterpart. She’s a little more mature now that she’s 18, but not by much cause she’s still a young, developing girl. She only has a few friends her age since most of her peers at school are put off by her goth aesthetic and macabre interests. It also doesn’t help that she hangs around a weird egirl who likes to throw bugs at people (Bettyjuice of course). She does have two friends, Becca and Pamela (loosely based off Bertha and Prudence) and of course, her family. She still loves the Maitlands and hangs out with them a bunch. She has a better relationship with Charles Deetz now that she’s a little older. The one she has conflict the most is Deelia, but there’s still clear love there. She fully accepts Deelia as her mother now, while, of course, still keeping Emily Deetz in her heart as well. But they tend to bicker and argue the most because of their different worldviews, but much less so than before now that Lydia regularly spends time in the Nethworld.

But of course, Lydia’s best friend is Beetlejuice. They pull pranks, get into mischief, and regularly get revenge on Lydia’s main bully Claire Brewster.

But yeah, that’s it. I’ll explain my OC later, but I’m too tired rn. I’m working on some more art for Beetlejuice, but the main inspo is the cartoon since it has a lot more to work with in terms of story and world building.

[bjfinn]

SHADOW WORK

"Delia, love, do you really think this is a good idea?" Charles asked. "He's a demon, after all."

"I know," she replied. "But you've seen how he's changed since we ... adopted him. He's calmer now -- less destructive. Less ... evil. I truly believe that what BJ needs now is to deal with the trauma of his upbringing. He needs to deal with the fact that his father left him, that his mother didn't love him. It's the only thing that will allow him to heal. To fully heal."

Charles nodded thoughtfully. "But ... just where are we going to find a therapist trained in demonic trauma therapy?"

"I've been studying," Delia told him.

"You? Uh, Delia ... I love you, but you're hardly qualified to deal with human trauma, let alone demon trauma."

She nodded. "I know that -- but I also know that love can move mountains. And I'm not talking about therapy -- I'm talking about my area of expertise. Mindfulness, meditation, aligning his chakras -- that sort of thing. And getting him to talk about his childhood, of course."

Charles shook his head slowly. "This is a bad idea."

"Charles, trust me. Please?" she said. "If things get too heavy, I'll stop -- I promise."

He sighed. "All right, dear," he conceded. "But the instant you think you're losing control, the session ends. I already lost Emily -- I couldn't bear to lose you, too."

*****

"Hey, Delia," Beej said. "What's going on?"

"Have a seat, Beej," she offered, smiling warmly. Once he'd settled himself in the armchair, she continued. "Beej -- you know we love you, and we love having you as part of the family ..."

"Okaaay."

"Charles and I think of you like ... like a son. Sort of. A weird, feral, potentially homicidal son, but a son nonetheless."

"Okay. Yeah, sure." He had no idea where this was going.

"Now, obviously I know -- we all know -- some things about your real family, and what it was like for you growing up in the Netherworld. Not much, but enough to understand that it must've been terribly traumatic. And you're still carrying that trauma."

"Nah," he said flippantly. "Trust me -- I'm good."

"Beej -- it's important for you to deal with that trauma. In order for you to properly heal."

"But I already dealt with it," the demon protested. "I killed my mom and my dad, remember? They're gonna be stuck in processing for a couple centuries, at least. So it's all good now." He smiled happily.

"You dealt with your parents, yes -- but you haven't dealt with your feelings about your parents. That's what I want to help you with, Beej. You need to deal with what it was like growing up in such a toxic environment, and I want to help you with that. If you'll let me."

"So, uh ... what are we talking about, exactly?"

"Let's start with some relaxation exercises," she suggested. "I want you to close your eyes and feel your body --"

"I like where this is going," he quipped.

"-- become aware of it, the feeling of the air against your skin, the chair, your clothes ... everything. Now, start relaxing -- begin with your toes, slowly moving them if you need to, to release any tension relaxing each part of your body in turn. Now your feet ... your ankles ... your knees ... feel the tension leaving your body ..."

Delia continued on, guiding Beej through the exercise. It wasn't easy for the demon to relax, but he did his best -- he didn't want to disappoint her. She was more of a mother to him than Juno had ever been. Gradually he began to feel ... looser, somehow. The noise in his head -- the noise of the Netherworld -- was still roaring as loud as ever, but it was ... farther away.

"Now relax your forehead," Delia continued. "Feel the tension rising up out of you, through your hair and out into the universe." She paused a moment. "And now, slowly open your eyes. How are you feeling?"

Beej opened his eyes and blinked a few times. "I -- I'm not sure," he said. "I feel ... okay."

Delia smiled. "That's good." His hair was a softer shade of green now, Delia noted. A calmer green.

"My mom didn't love me," he said.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. "She didn't love me, but you do." His eyes welled up.

Delia nodded, smiling. "We all love you, Beej," she told him. "And we want you to be the best person you can be."

He nodded, smiling through the tears. "I promise I'll do my best."

"I know you will, Beej," Delia replied, getting up from the couch and hugging him. "This was a good first session, wasn't it? You did really well -- I'm proud of you."

*****

Over the course of the next few weeks, Delia continued to work with Beej. She tried to teach him how to meditate, but that was too difficult for him -- "Maybe later on," she said, "once you've gotten farther along" -- so they tried some breathing exercises that he could use to calm himself down.

"I want you to breathe in for a count of four," she said, "then hold for another count of four, and then breathe out for a count of eight, okay? Let's try it -- in ... two ... three ... four; hold ... two ... three ... four; out ... two ... three ... four ... five ... six ... seven ... eight. And again --- breathe in ..."

She guided him through four rounds of the exercise. "All right, very good. Now the more you practice, the easier it'll be to remember it whenever you start feeling stressed. Okay?"

Beej nodded.

Delia also started him on shadow work -- she knew it was potentially dangerous for him, but it was a necessary part of the healing process. Because Beej wasn't very good at spelling, she encouraged him instead to draw his memories and feelings, as well as talking about them with her. And because shadow work could be traumatic, she always made sure to end a session with some relaxation and breathing exercises to bring Beej back to the present.

At first Beej was reticent about telling Delia -- or anyone else -- about what it was like growing up a half-demon half-ghost in the Netherworld, but once he realised that she wasn't going to judge him he soon began to open up.

"Nobody liked me," he told her.

"Why not?"

"Because of what I am -- the ghosts didn't like me because I'm half demon, and the demons didn't like me because I'm half ghost. Neither one thing or the other. A dirty halfbreed."

"You didn't have any friends?" Delia asked. "None at all?"

Beej shook his head. "Nobody." His eyes filled with tears. "Everybody was always calling me names and beating me up just because I was different. So I learned how to defend myself by becoming a monster. After that, nobody picked on me any more -- but nobody wanted to be my friend, either."

"I'm so sorry, Beej -- it must've been terribly lonely for you."

He nodded. "I started coming Topside more and more," he continued. "Nobody could see me up here, but at least that meant that nobody would pick on me.

"Then I met someone who could see me -- I was in New York City, and I was staying in an abandoned hotel. He was a medium."

"Like Otho?"

Beej shook his head. "Nah, Otho's a fake. This guy was the real deal."

"So what happened?"

"He was there to evict me," Beej said. "The new owner was renovating, and I was scaring the workers, trying to get them to leave -- it was my home! But the owner hired this guy and he came to get rid of me." He sniffed. "At first I thought we could be friends, you know? But he didn't want that. So we fought."

"You fought?" Delia said, blanching slightly. "You ... you didn't ..."

"Nah, course not!" Beej scoffed. "I agreed to fight like a breather -- no magic."

"How come?"

"He was the first human I'd met who could see me! That's a big deal! And I figured that maybe eventually we'd become friends. Maybe. But he deserved my respect, you know?

"So we fought."

"What was it like?"

"It was exhilarating! I mean, I've never fought that way before -- always used magic. But this -- two guys going mano a mano?" He grinned. "And it didn't hurt that he was hot! "

Delia chuckled at that.

"Anyway, I won -- I knocked him out." He paused. "Well, technically he won, too, I guess -- I decided it wasn't safe for me there any more, so I left. But it was my choice," he added hastily.

"Of course. What made you choose New York in the first place?"

"Lots of people means lots of dead people -- my mom had forced me to become a guide for the recently deceased."

"You still were doing that?"

"I didn't have a choice -- my mom had bound me to it. But if I could convince a ghost to get a breather to say my name three times, then I'd be visible and able to interact with the living, and that would release me from the bond.

"So I got those business cards printed up -- the ghost would frighten the breather, I'd drop a card, they'd say my name three times ...

"But I didn't have any luck, so I kept wandering around -- what choice did I have?

"Anyway, that's how I met Babs and Adam. But they were hopeless -- they couldn't frighten a fly! So I went up on the roof trying to figure out my next move.

"And then I met Lydia," he continued. "And she could see me, just like the guy in New York! So I did my spiel, the whole song and dance, but I went a little too hard on the sell, and --"

"And she pushed you off the roof."

Beej nodded. "Yeah. Anyway, you know the rest."

*****

"How goes your sessions with Beej?" Charles asked that night when Delia joined him in bed.

"We're making some progress," she told him. "I've taught him some relaxation techniques and breathing exercises, and we've started on doing some shadow work."

"Shadow work?" Charles asked, a note of concern in his voice. "Are you sure he's ready for that sort of thing? I've heard that it can be quite ... intense, emotionally -- and Beej isn't the most emotionally stable person."

Delia nodded. "I know -- that's why I'm taking it slow. I'm letting him decide what he's ready to talk about."

"Well, all right -- but be careful."

"I promise," she told him, and kissed him. "Good night."

"Good night, darling."

*****

"Tell me more about the bullies," Delia prompted the next day. "If you're ready, of course."

Beej nodded and took a deep breath. "Okay," he said.

"As long as I can remember, everyone always bullied me for being a halfbreed -- calling me names, shoving me around, stealing my stuff, beating me up. I don't ...

"One time I found a baby sandworm -- it was just a hatchling. Cute little thing, about as long as my hand. Anyway, I was lonely, so I decided to keep her. I named her Sandy ... I mean, what else would you name a sandworm, right? I used to keep her in the pocket of my pants -- I couldn't let my mom know, or I'd get in trouble. But one of the bullies found out about Sandy -- and ... a-and he killed her. He stomped her to death right in front of me!" Beej was sobbing now. "She was just a little thing, and he killed her!"

"That's terrible," Delia said.

"But I got my revenge," Beej said, the cold fury he had felt back then returning to his features. "I waited for the next time he and his friends came to bully me, and when they did ... I let the monster out."

He took a shuddering breath. "After that, nobody ever picked on me again. Nobody except for my mom, that is."

*****

"Are you ready to tell me about your parents?"

Beej shrugged. "What's to tell?" he replied. "My mom's a demon who runs -- ran -- the Netherworld Immigration Bureau. That's how she met my dad -- he was a ghost. They had a one-night stand, he took off, and next thing you know she's pregnant with me."

"Okay," Delia said. "Let's start with your father -- what did you know about him before you found him?"

"I knew he was a deadbeat asshole."

"Right -- but aside from that?"

Beej frowned slightly. "I knew he had the same name as me, and that he was the one who brought the Black Death to Ireland."

"Why would he do that?"

"Uh, because he's a rotten sonofabitch?"

Delia conceded the point. "Anything else?"

Beej shook his head. "Nah, that's it -- that's all I knew about him until I found him."

"How do you feel about him?"

"I'm glad I killed him," the demon said. "Even if he hadn't come Topside and threatened all of you, I would've killed him. He's a fuckin' piece of shit. I'm glad he's stuck in processing for the next couple hundred years."

"Do you wish he'd been a real father to you?"

"Yeah, of course. But now I know that he's not that kind of guy, so I was better off without him."

*****

"Do you want to talk about your mother today?"

Beej shook his head. "Nope," he said.

"All right -- you don't have to talk about anything you don't want to," Delia told him. "Is there anything you do want to talk about?"

He thought a moment. "What's it like being in love?"

Delia's eyes widened in surprise -- she hadn't expected that. "It's ... it's wonderful. It's the best feeling in the world. Haven't you ever been in love?"

"No," he replied. "Not that way. I mean, you and Chuck and Lydia, and Adam and Babs -- sure. I love you guys -- you're my family. But not like you and Chuck love each other, or Adam and Babs. Not that kinda love."

"Is that something you wish you could have?"

"It seems like it's really nice," he said. "Having someone special like that."

"It is," she told him. "I hope one day you can find someone to love."

"I'm a demon," he said simply. "I don't think it's in the cards for me."

"Stranger things have happened."

*****

"You're doing really well with the relaxation techniques, Beej -- would you like to try some yoga?"

"I've had yoga," he said. "It's really good -- especially with honey and granola."

Delia laughed gently. "Not yoghurt -- yoga."

"What's the difference?"

"Yoghurt is a fermented milk product. Yoga is an ancient and sacred system of exercise," she explained. "Although, both are from India," she added, "so maybe they're not so different after all.

"Anyway," she continued, "we'll start with something easy. I want you to sit like this." She lowered herself onto one of the tasselled floor cushions she'd set out on the living room carpet. Beej removed his shoes and followed suit. "Now bend your knees and touch the soles of your feet together like this."

"Okaaay," Beej said, baffled, but he did as instructed. "Why am I doing this?"

"It helps align your chakras -- your energy centres," she told him. "Okay, now sit up as straight as you can -- imagine that there's a string coming out of the top of your head, and someone is pulling you upright. Very good. Now rest the backs of your wrists on your knees, and gently touch the tips of your thumbs and index fingers together."

Beej furrowed his brows, but did as he was told.

"Now, repeat after me -- ommmmm."

"Ommmmm."

"Again. Feel it resonating in the centre of your being -- ommmmm."

"Ommmmm."

"Good. Om Mani Padme Hum."

"Om Mani Padme Hum."

"Om Nama Renge Kyo."

"Om Nama Renge Kyo."

"Ommmmm."

"Ommmmm."

Beej had no idea why they were doing this -- it didn't seem to be making any difference, except that it made him feel weirdly self-conscious. He hoped no one -- especially Lydia -- would come in and see him like this. He'd never live it down.

"All right," Delia said. "That was very good." She got to her feet, and Beej stood up as well. She got out two rolled up pieces of foam. "These are yoga mats," she told him, undoing the ties and laying the mats down on the carpet side by side. "We'll try a simple asana to start with." She stood on one of the mats, and Beej stood facing her on the other. "Stand straight, feet together, and press your palms together in front of your chest like this. Now I want you to raise your right foot and place it against the side of your left knee -- like this."

Beej lifted his right foot, as instructed, but he started wobbling -- he wasn't used to balancing himself on one foot, and being chubby didn't help. He got his foot against his knee, but he couldn't stop the wobbling.

"You can bend your knee if you have to -- it'll help keep your balance," Delia told him. "There you go," she said, smiling, as his wobbling decreased.

"I'm doing it!" Beej said, incredulous. He was still unsteady, but he was doing it.

"I knew you had it in you. Now, hold the pose as long as you can -- it's all right if you need to stop. It's not a competition."

"Says you," Beej muttered.

Delia frowned.

"Okay, okay."

He held the pose for another five seconds before putting his right foot back down on the mat. "I did it!" he crowed, beaming at Delia.

"I'm very proud of you, Beej," she said. "You did very well for your first time."

*****

Delia continued to work with Beej every day for the next several weeks -- gently guiding him in more relaxation techniques, yoga and breathing exercises, prompting him to reveal more about what it was like for him in the Netherworld.

"I think I'm making real progress with him," she told Charles. "It's slow, but it's progress."

He nodded. "I've noticed the difference -- he's a little calmer, a little less ... grumpy. You were right -- working with Beej was a good idea."

"Well, you've been helping, too," she told him. "Introducing him to bird-watching was a wonderful idea! He loves it -- he's taken to it like ... like ..."

"Like a duck to water?" Charles said with a grin.

"Exactly! And he really enjoys spending time with you."

"I enjoy it as well -- I didn't think we would have anything in common, but I'm glad I was proven wrong. And I'm glad I was proven wrong about your idea." He grew serious. "But I still think you need to be careful -- he may be domesticated, but Beej is still a demon."

"I know. I'm being careful, I promise."

*****

"What do you want to do today?"

A look of surprise crossed Beej's face, and streaks of pink and lavender shot through his hair. This was the first time that Delia had asked him that -- she'd always been the one to decide what their sessions would consist of.

"Uh, I -- I don't know," he stammered. "I hadn't thought --"

"You've been doing so well," Delia told him. "I think it's time you have a say -- if you think you're ready." She clapped her hands together. "We can do anything you want."

He thought a moment. "I know you want me to talk about my mother."

"Only when and if you're ready, Beej," she said. "But yes, I think sooner or later you need to deal with it."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I know," he said.

He took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly.

"I don't know why she never loved me," he said. "Even when I was little. It wasn't my fault that she got pregnant -- it wasn't my fault that my dad took off!

"I never asked to be born, you know. She coulda had an abortion if she didn't want me. But she didn't -- and that was her choice. No one else's.

"She wasn't always mean -- sometimes she was nice to me. But then she'd change -- you saw, when she showed up at me and Lydia's wedding. At first, she was all 'Oh, my precious little boy's getting married! I'm so happy for you, Beej!' And then it was 'You're useless, you'll never amount to anything, just like your father!' "

Streaks of red began appearing in Beej's hair. "I'm glad I killed her -- she always hated me," he said. "She was always telling me that she wished I'd never been born." He was breathing heavily now, hyperventilating great gasps of air as the anger rose through him, flooding his body with the demon equivalent of adrenaline. "All I ever wanted was for her to ... to be a mother to me!" His hair was scarlet shot through with black streaks now. His eyes flashed red, glowing with the rising fury. His stubby nails grew into razor-sharp talons dripping with blood. His teeth became shark-like, serrated and wickedly pointed. Shadowy tentacles sprouted from his back, solidifying as they writhed around him. He advanced on Delia, no longer human in form, snarling and snapping, strings of venom spooling from his mouth to burn holes in the carpet.

"WHY COULDN'T SHE LOVE ME? " he roared in a voice that emanated from the bowels of Hell.

Delia stumbled backwards, terrified -- she'd gone too far. Beej -- her sweet, soft, love-starved, mischievous, chaotic adopted son -- was well and truly in the grip of the eldritch horror that he really was. Betelgeuse, the red giant, about to go supernova.

"BJ!" She tried to scream, but all that came out was a strangled squeak . "Beej, no -- please don't -- I'm not Juno -- I'm not her --"

He was almost upon her.

"It's me," she breathed. "Delia. Don't you remember? Please remember, Beej --"

She gasped as his saliva dripped onto her arm, acrid smoke rising as it burned the bare flesh.

"Beej, please! " She began sobbing -- she knew she was going to die, that he was going to kill her. The price of her arrogance in thinking that she could change him, that she could eradicate his essence, that she could make him human, that all that was needed was the power of --

Love.

Love. Of course!

"I love you, Beej," she whispered as he leaned over her.

He snarled.

"I love you," she said again, louder this time. "I love you. We all love you. You're part of our family. We're your family. "

His snarling continued, but softer now. Her words -- her love -- were having an effect.

"I'm your mom now, Beej," she told him, raising a tentative hand to his muzzle. "I'm your mom, and you're my son. I love you, Beej. Do you hear me? I. Love. You."

The beast that was Betelgeuse drew back from her, looking at her with its balefully glowing red eyes.

"I love you -- we all do."

Gradually the tentacles retracted, the canid muzzle receded, the shark teeth retreated, the talons blunted as Beej regained his human form.

Tears spilled from his eyes.

"I -- I'm sorry!" he sobbed. "I didn't -- I -- I don't ever wanna --"

Delia jumped to her feet and threw her arms around him. "I know. I know, Beej," she told him. "I-it was my fault. I'm the one who should be sorry -- I shouldn't have made you go through that."

She held him tightly, his body shuddering. Finally his sobbing quieted, and he put his arms around her. "I love you, too, Delia -- Mom."

Delia breathed deeply, her heart swelling. He called me Mom, she said to herself. My precious demon-boy called me Mom.

They stood there for a long while, taking comfort in each other's embrace.

[forestofstarlight]

Willow inhales deeply and slowly exhales, trying to ease her nerves before looking at Dune with a serious expression on her face. “Yes, I’m ready. Let’s send these bastards to the Netherworld and save the other captives.” She says with a determined tone to her voice. “Just like how you saved me.” She adds in a softer tone.

Open Rp: Distress in the Desert

Willow struggles against her binds as the wagon she was thrown into shook and swayed slightly from each little bump and mound of sand it rolled over. It was her mission to visit a desert kingdom and learn some new spells, unfortunately, the kingdom was not very welcoming to outsiders so she had to disguise herself as a local. And to double the misfortune, one of the locals noticed and recognized her as the last of the light mages (which meant she could be worth a fortune).

She lets out a muffled grunt as the wagon stops and the curtain was drawn back. Only to see a silhouetted figure standing near the opening…

(Not my art/ Willow’s eyes are actually green, not blue.)

@nightmare-the-mercenary @worldofthevoidwalker @sacrificexxx @monstersofallyourfearsreborn @tokufan400 @the-blackbird-roleplays

[lydiamaitland]

a softer netherworld

[fright-of-their-lives]

Hiya! You mentioned that you saw Kober!Charles and Blum!Adam 👀👀 How were they?

I'm long overdue for answering this ask, but I have been dying to tell you all my thoughts on Kober and Will Blum so here we go!

I absolutely love how Will plays Adam, he feels so bubbly and energetic. He giggles and laughs so much, his Adam is such a sweetheart! He feels even more passive and emotional than how Joberg plays him, so his dynamic with Barbara feels so sweet. Peak Malewife energy!!

Kate Bailey was on for Barbara the night I last saw it, and they both felt like they played the characters a bit younger than Kerry and Joberg, which I really liked! They felt like a young, barely out of their 20s couple, so the fear of having kids really comes through! And of course his singing is IMPECCABLE. Like, damn the vocals on this man!

Overall, Will brings a lot of vulnerability and softness to his character, which is the vibe I got from how he played Beetlejuice. He really makes you feel for whatever character he plays.

And now on the Kober!Charles, my beloved!

I have so much to say about how this man plays Charles Deetz!

First off, of course this man his HILARIOUS! Literally obsessed with how this man emphasizes certain words, he's so damn extra I love it! His dynamic with Delia was so hilarious, he never felt like he was as over the top as her, but their energy matched up so perfectly. Like, yup, these idiots are in love your honor!

But my favorite dynamic was his relationship with Lydia. Quick note, Kober is a BIG guy, and his suits hung a little looser on him than they do on Adam Dannheisser. It gives off this vibe that he *just* got money and hasn't quite gotten the hang of having it just yet, so his suits aren't specially tailored to fit him. But it also makes him appear softer, which makes his more vulnerable moments with Lydia hit a bit harder.

When he's acting across from Elizabeth, his voice and tone are more natural, he even stumbled a bit when he initially tells her about selling the house. I got the vibe that he used to be more active in Lydia's life, that he was a much more proactive and fun dad before everything happens. It's almost like he's putting on a show of being the Successful Business Man, but the facade crumbles whenever he's around Lydia, and you see glimpes of the man that he used to be spill out.

It's especially gut wrenching when we get to the Netherworld scene, because you know, you know he's spent all this time trying to keep it together. And when Lydia says she's doesn't have a home, you can hear how much it hurts to hear her say that. You feel his sadness and frustration and grief when he finally lets his emotions out.

Both of these guys are amazing and I could talk abou them for hours! Honestly, there's not a single understudy I haven't absolutely loved in this show, everyone's so hilarious and brings their A game everytime! And considering I'm writing this all out while on my way to NY again to see Koberjuice, I've certainly going to have even more say!

[untilthcyrot]

Lydia flinched at the flames spilling from his mouth, like a demon who had just said God's name or something holy like that. She then said, ❝ You would do that because it's in your nature to. ❞ She expected nothing less of him than asking her something that her gut told her not to do. He wasn't just a soul that had been rotting for some time in the Netherworld. He was also a trickster. Look what he'd done to her banister! Ever since then, she hadn't been able to comfortably glide her hand along the railing for fear of feeling scales underneath her fingertips.

❝ You do know that last time I did you a favor, 'for old time sakes,' you put some other woman's ring on my finger in an attempt to marry me. I was a kid for god sake, ❞ she muttered under her breath, trying not to be as creeped out as she felt back then. Time had helped her get over it though and making jokes helped. Lydia had been avoiding making much eye contact, but when she heard the change in his voice, something softer that confused her, she met his eyes.

❝ If I do this for you I want you to help me find someone on the other side. I haven't been able to see him since he died. ❞

"Ah c'mon, babe! I wouldn't do a thing like that!" he tried to say before flames erupted out of his mouth, hand soon clamping over it. Once flames were snuffed, hand dropped and he offered a sickly crooked smile. "Alright, alright...maybe, just maybe...there is somethin' I do hope you'll do for me. For old times sake," he huffed, hands raising and falling at his sides with a soft thwack. Even though he did want to ask her to do him a favor, Juice was also just happy to see her again after so long.

"But I mean it, Lyds...I know you better than you know yourself," he mused, head tilting to the side as he looked over her slowly. After thirty years she had grown up and looked great just as beautiful. "Tell me what ya need from the Juice-man an' I'll make it happen, babe."

[obsessive-ego]

Talking in you sleep

Musical beetlejuice x reader

Reader says Beetlejuice's name 3 times in their sleep, but hes already in their home

Sfw

Idk been thinking about this for ages

Just a small fic

It was an accident

It was no secret to anyone that you talk in your sleep, not full sentences, just a word or two, nothing too abnormal, you didn't know about this little quirk of yours until a certain foul mouthed undead demon wormed his way into your life, he was the one who told you.

...

"Ya know you chatter on in your sleep?" He'd  chuckle as if he found something truly embarrassing to bug you about.

"How'd you know? Am I that loud you can hear me in the livingroom?"

"Nah, I watch you sleep" he said it so plainly as if it wasnt super creepy.

The ghoul eventually upped his late night habits from watching you sleep, to sleeping in the same bed as you, he did this so often you stopped setting up the couch for him and just accepted your fate to be spooned every night by a creepy old dead guy who you may or may not have a crush on

...

The nights you've babbled in your sleep always brought on annoying mornings of beetlejuice teasing you, probably lying through his teeth over how you moan his name in you sleep to get you worked up for his own amusement, unfortunately you couldnt prove you didnt since your dreams never really stuck with you long after waking.

Hell with your late night chatter you even manged to summon beej once in your sleep, a night he was spending over at the Deetz, you manged to say his name 3 times in a row, spoken, unbroken, in your sleep, and boy was your face red when you woke up and saw the bastard in question sitting inches from your face with the widest shit eating grin you've ever seen on his face, that was an instance you couldnt deny saying his name in your sleep and dreaming about him, you missed him, of course you think about the demon when you two are apart, even the few days he's with the Deetz and the maitlands.

Tonight wasnt one of those nights, beetlejuice has spent the entire day glued to your side, chatting your ear off about all the scares he and lydia pulled in your absence, his stories always made you smile, the way he practically glowed green with excitement as he retold his showmanship to you.

The night went on with bad jokes and fun stories as the demon filled you in on all the fun you missed while you were doing boring adult breather things and how the two of you should mess with some unlucky breathers so he could show you how amazing he truly was, as if you needed proof that the ghoul was a ham who loved to show off.

As the two of you sat on the couch laughing away, forgetting the movie that basically became White noise to your conversation, a yawn escapes your lips

"Getting tired babes? Am I really that boring" the ghoul teased pinching you cheek

You groan and pull away "well, yeah, unlike you mister freeloader, I worked all day" you shrug before letting out another yawn

"Freeloader? Oh sugar, your words hurt" the ghoul fakes hurt, giving you an over exaggerated gasped face, with his hands over where a person's heart would be "I thought we had the mutual understanding that I was your trophy husband"

You give the demon a soft laugh "you wish-"

"Every night baby~" he purrs pink stripes slowly appearing in his hair

You freeze, it wasnt uncommon for beetlejuice to openly flirt with you, but that doesnt mean it didnt make you freeze up everytime, you werent exactly the type people lined up to date, nor were you very popular growing up, so the sudden and intense attention the demon gave you always made your heart pound.

"Uh, um, I think I'm gonna head to bed" you stammer before getting up "night beej" you mumble before disappearing into your bedroom.

The demon stifles a laugh, god slash satan you were a delight to get worked up, not to mention easy. He loved it, his favourite little breather was always so hot when they were an embarrassed mess.

The ghoul decides to finish the movie the two of you had on in the background, before heading to bed with you, he didn't need to sleep, just enjoyed being snuggled up to that soft warm body of yours, and it was more rewarding to sneak in after you were out cold, bed would be already warm, and with the added thrill of not wanting to wake you.

As the credits roll beetlejuice snaps his fingers and tv goes dark, the ghoul raises from the couch and gives a yawn and a long stretch as if he was exhausted. The demon makes his way to your room, standing outside your door he pauses at the sound of your voice

"Beetlejuice"

It was soft, barely audible, but herd it, guess you were still up, beetlejuice phases through your bedroom door, to be greeted by your sleeping form.

He stifled a chuckle, you were dreaming of him, tomorrow was gonna be great, the ghoul was already busy thinking about ways to poke fun at this in the morning, moaning out his name in you sleep? What kind of dream were you having babes? He could see your face now.

"Beetlejuice" you mumble again in a whisper

"Whoa there babes, you know the rule, one more time and I'm out" he whispers making his way to your bed.

"Beetlejuice" you sigh

"Y/N!" was the the only thing he had time to shout before vanishing.

His shout was enough to make wake you, but not enough to clue you in to what you just did, you grumble out a swear before rolling over and going back to sleep.

The next morning you wake up, a tad confused to not have a snoring dead guy weighing you down, normally on nights beetlejuice would stay over he'd slip into bed with you after you've fallen asleep, using your chest as a pillow.

You dont think much of it at first, heading to the kitchen to make some coffee before getting dressed, you did notice there was no beej there either, waiting for you kettle to boil you give your little home a quick sweep for the demon, nothing.

He's vanished to do his own thing before, he was a grown man, sometimes he'd duck out and mess with the neighbors in your apartment complex, but he would at least leave you a note or something.

You started to worry, what if something awful happened to him? Then it clicked, lydia must had summoned him away to hang out, that had to be it, and with that thought all dread left you so you could carry on with your day, since bj wasnt around you took the opportunity to get a few odds and ends done.

The day drags on into the late evening, you were enjoying the peace as you catch up on some reading.

Your phone rings, looking at the screen you see its lydia, that's odd, she normally texts you if anything

"Hello?"

"Y/n I need to ask beetlejuice something"

"Isnt he with you?"

"What? No-"

Dread returns to you chest, you havent seen him since last night, he left no note, he wasnt with lydia, did something awful happen? was he bored with you? You felt like you were going to be sick

"Y/n?"

"I gotta go" was all you could say before hanging up,

"Beetlejuice!"

Nothing

"Beetlejuice!"

Again nothing, he normally came after the second yell, anxiety for your dear friend make you since to your stomach in fear for the worst, you steady yourself and take a deep breath and say it for a third time

"Beetlejuice"

With a puff of green smoke there stood the ghoul, unfortunately sporting a purple hue

"Bee-"

"It took you that long to notice I was gone?"

"No, I-"

"Why did it take so long then? Enjoying your time without me?!" Red streaks began to show up amongst the purple

"I thought lydia summoned you back-"

"And you waited till now to check?!"

"I DIDNT WANT TO BOTHER THE TWO OF YOU" you yelled back, beetlejuice is taken abck by your volume, you take a deep breath "if I knew why you were gone I would have said something sooner, what happened?" You say calmly gently taking the demon's hand, red now fading away, though the purple stayed

"You sent me away, you said my name 3 times in your sleep and sent me back to the netherworld" he refused to look at you as if you did this on purpose to mess with him.

"Bee, I'm sorry, I would have never done that on purpose, i- i love having you around, and I, god, i miss you when you're not here, with me" now it was your turn to refuse eye contact, admitting such a cheesy thing, you wanted to just die, not that it would help.

The purple hue is quick to leave the ghoul's form in replacement with a much softer pink, you missed him, music to his ears.

"Sugar" beetlejuice grabs your chin and forces eye contact

You give him a soft smile seeing that he was no longer purple, but also when he pulls you into a rather over exaggerated dip and sloppy kiss "so how bout we make up for some lost time and you can make this little misunderstanding up to me, what do you say babes?~"

You only stutter and choke on your words as the demon spins you around

"Would you like to scare some delivery guy and watch a bad slasher?" You finally get out

The demon pauses for a moment, as if to think about this offer.

"Normally I'd be delighted honey, but I think you owe me~ how bout you have to sit on my lap the entire film~" he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at you, you swallow the lump in your throat, this was gonna be a long night

Bonus

The two of you were snuggled together on the couch, Beetlejuice's arms were around your waist, his head on your shoulder, your bum on his lap.

"So babes, whatever you dreaming about last night?"

[lillotte17]

Blossoms on a Bough

Fix-it/filler for the end of episode 36!!!

~

The first thing Wen Kexing notices, once his mind has floated up towards any sense of consciousness, is a bright cool light shining on his face. His brows twitch downwards in irritation, the intensity of it stinging his eyes even while they are still closed. His body feels like lead, and his thoughts are thick and muddy. He just wants to ignore the light and drift back off to sleep.

Wherever he is, he seems to have landed on something relatively soft and warm. It is surprising, since his general ideas about the netherworld involve darkness and cold, but he is certainly not going to complain. Perhaps, given the long list of his transgressions, his soul flew right past the Yellow River and dropped straight into hell, and now he is being fried in a pot just like that chicken that had chased Chengling around the Four Seasons Manor. The thought makes him want to laugh, but there is an odd tightness in his chest, so the best he can manage is an incredibly weak cough.

A faint rustling of cloth sounds by his ear as whatever he is reclining on shifts slightly. There is a vague sense of presence nearby, but he cannot tell more than that. Almost against his will, he cracks his eyes open to see who might be trapped in the stew pot with him, but there is only a dark looming blur surrounded by pale watery light. It makes him think of Zhou Zishu; his face bathed in sunshine, in moonshine, in starlight. He always seemed to glow with something intangible and dream-like. And Wen Kexing -helpless little month- could do nothing else but follow after it.

“Ah Xu,” he exhales in the barest of whispers.

A scent lingers in the air around him, crisp and lightly musky. It reminds him of burying his fingers in long dark tresses. Of the tenderness and care taken combing the tangles out of them afterwards. Of sliding his own hair pin into the carefully twisted knot at the crown of Zhou Zishu’s head. He should have brought him a different one to replace it, he thinks blearily. The key was most likely lost or broken in all of that snow, and now he will have nothing to remember him by.

This place is strange, wherever it is. Soothing and disorientating all at once. Is it some sort of hallucination? Did his soul get lost somewhere between life and death? Is he a true ghost now, doomed to wander the world in hopeless despair, witnessing joys he can no longer take part in? Thoughts spin around in his head in a billion tiny fragments. He cannot quite seem to catch hold of any of them, or arrange them in a pattern that makes sense.

“Am I dead?” he wonders aloud, his voice thin and raspy, not expecting an answer.

“You fucking better not be,” a cross reply rumbles out from somewhere above him.

Wen Kexing blinks. The sun still burns his eyes, but after a few moments of intense squinting, the dark blur leaning over him reconfigures itself into a familiar and beloved face. Zhou Zishu, leaning back against a dusty wall with Wen Kexing pulled more than half way into his lap.

“What…happened?” Wen Kexing wonders, head positively spinning in bafflement. Now that he is waking up a bit more, he is becoming more aware of his body’s aches and pains. It feels like a horse kicked him in the chest and then he fell into a river and drowned. Even wincing hurts.

“Something went wrong with the ritual,” Zishu tells him. His voice is raw and his eyes are bloodshot. He looks as haggard as Wen Kexing feels. “You collapsed. Your heart meridians were severely damaged, and your hair turned white. You must have used too much of your internal force. It has been more than three days since you lost consciousness and…I thought…”

His voice splinters and he trails off, looking away from him for a moment.

“But…it worked?” Wen Kexing presses, trying to feebly grip at Zhou Zishu’s sleeve, “You can hear me talking again now, so that means that it worked, right? The rest is fine, so long as it saved you.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Zhou Zishu answers, the first traces of a smile pulling at his lips.

“Yes. You are here.” Wen Kexing echoes, as though he still cannot quite believe it, “And…I am here, too.”

“You are.” Zishu confirms, his arms tightening around him, carefully tugging him up until he is all but leaning into his chest. “It was a near thing, though. My medical knowledge is limited, and even with the Yin Yang book, I was not certain that I could heal you.”

“Rong Xuan’s wife allegedly used the teachings in the book to heal his heart meridians and other serious injuries when he was near death several times over,” Wen Kexing hums thoughtfully, casually tilting his head against Zishu’s shoulder, “But she was an experienced physician. You have had no training, and yet you saved me on the first try. You must possess some kind of natural affinity for it. Ah Xu, you have so many talents, I am having a hard time keeping track of them all.”

“It had nothing to do with affinity,” Zhou Zishu huffs, sounding exasperated and perhaps even the tiniest bit embarrassed, “It was pure dumb luck.”

“Eh?”

“The Four Seasons Sect has a special technique that cripples someone’s heart meridians,” he explains somberly, a humorless smirk on his face, “I used it against Prince Jin to keep him alive, but bedridden. My master taught it to me, and as far as I know, I am the only one left alive who knows how to perform it.”

“That is very interesting, Ah Xu, but I am not certain I understand what it has to do with dumb luck,” Wen Kexing says smilingly.

“My master…he also told me how to counter the technique, so that the person’s heart meridians could be healed again and their qi could flow properly,” Zhou Zishu continues, turning his head slightly to directly meet Wen Kexing’s gaze. “I did not have much hope when I opened the Yin Yang book. You were slipping away, and there was no time for in-depth research. But…when I found the section detailing how someone with damaged meridians might be cured, it was obvious that…the techniques I learned from my master were based on this knowledge.”

“So…that means…my parents…?” Wen Kexing looks a bit lost at the revelation.

Zhou Zishu nods.

“It is likely that Lady Yue Feng’Er and your parents shared this precious knowledge with their friends, and possibly even helped my master develop this skill. I was only able to save you because of this.”

Wen Kexing furrows is brows, his thoughts whirling and his emotions complex. He seemingly stares at the dark blue of Zhou Zishu’s lapels for what feels like ages, looking but not seeing, pensive and moody. Finally, he lets out a very tired-sounding sigh.

“And I only managed to save you because that dumb bastard Rong Xuan stole the manual for the Six Cultivation Techniques,” he says, sounding bitter, “But maybe no one would have needed all this saving in the first place if that old monster had never let his idiot disciple leave the mountain to begin with.”

Zhou Zishu frowns down at him.

“I know, I know,” he mumbles, a bit sulky, “The past is past. Zhao Jing was punished and the rest are dead. There is no point stewing on it now. I have just…been angry about it for so long, sometimes I forget that I don’t have to be anymore. Be patient with me, Ah Xu.”

“Hm?” Zishu blinks, as though suddenly coming back to himself. “Oh, it wasn’t about that.”

“Then what?”

“I was just thinking that…it really could not have been anyone else,” Zhou Zishu tells him slowly, intensity burning in his dark eyes. “I said it was only dumb luck, because I never believed in destiny all that much before. If you want to achieve something in this world, you have to be willing to create it for yourself. But…for things to end up this way… It had to be you, and it had to be me, didn’t it?”

Wen Kexing bursts out laughing, utterly delighted.

“I always knew you had a soft heart beneath that tough exterior,” he grins, slightly breathless, with an almost pleasant ache in his ribs, “But Ah Xu, I never imagined that you were secretly a romantic.”

“Shut up,” Zishu grunts, pinching his arm until he yelps, “Who is romantic?”

“Ai, there is no need to be shy about it now, is there?” Wen Kexing says pleadingly, giggling to himself all the while, “There is no one here except us.”

“That’s right,” Zhou Zishu agrees blithely, a truly terrifying expression stealing across his face, “There is no one on this entire mountain except for you and me.”

“Ah Xu, don’t do anything rash,” Wen Kexing cajoles with a hint of genuine nervousness, “I only teased you a little bit, and I am still in such a delicate state of health. If you throw me out in the snow and beat me, I really won’t be-”

Zhou Zishu kisses him then, and whatever he won’t be promptly flies out of his head like a startled flock of birds.

The kiss is softer than he would have guessed, if he had gotten a moment to anticipate it. Clumsy, but tender. Hasty, but sincere. The mouth pressed so suddenly against his own trembles just slightly right before it pulls away. A thousand years too soon.

It is nowhere near the first time they have kissed each other, but Wen Kexing is almost always the instigator. It suits his own preferences to take the lead in most physical forms of intimacy anyway, so he would never complain about it. However, it does make the times Zhou Zishu reaches for him first feel more…something. Something that makes his heart full, and his eyes itch.

It makes him feel as though he is not only being accepted by this man, but chosen by him, too. As his partner. As his equal. As his friend. Lovers and soulmates and all the rest.

Wen Kexing is not certain that anyone else has ever chosen him before.

Not when there were other, better, options on hand, at any rate.

He swallows thickly, gazing up at Zhou Zishu with wide, startled eyes. Little flecks of cold mountain sunlight catch in the dark sweep of the other man’s hair almost like snowflakes. His grin is wide and fierce. Buoyant and hopeful in a way he has never been in all the time they have known each other. He looks impossibly beautiful, and horribly pleased with himself for managing to derail Wen Kexing’s usual babbling. There might be the slightest touch of pink to his ears, though.

“Ah Xu,” Wen Kexing chokes out.

I love you.

But the words get stuck in his throat.

“What?” Zishu laughs, “Do you ever get tired of calling me?”

“No.” Wen Kexing offers him a weak smile in return, shifting out of his hold a little so they can sit facing one another.

Zhou Zishu heaves an exasperated sigh, but his eyes remain bright, his expression one of incalculable fondness.

“Is that all you were saying during the ritual?” he wonders, half joking, “You just sat there calling my name?”

“Huh?”

“You said earlier that you had tried speaking to me, but my hearing had gone,” Zhou Zishu reminds him, “What did you say?”

“Oh, yes, it was mostly just your name over and over,” Wen Kexing nods, “Plus a few embarrassing personal anecdotes I felt like sharing. Once I knew you had no way to stop me, I really couldn’t help myself.”

“Lao Wen.”

“Yes, Ah Xu?”

“After all we have been through together, what could you possibly still have to tell me that you think I would be unwilling to hear?”

Wen Kexing makes a face, caught outright.

“It…is not so much a matter of thinking you would not hear me out,” he admits carefully, “It is more that there are just things that are difficult to say to someone. The more important they are to you, the harder it gets, so between you and me… But when a man feels his end has come, all sorts of things seem to tumble out unwillingly.”

Zhou Zishu looks positively stricken.

“You could tell that the cultivation technique was backfiring?” he hisses out, gasping Wen Kexing by the shoulders, “And you still kept going?”

“What else could I do?” Wen Kexing asks helplessly, “If I had stopped wouldn’t we both die? Would it be better if I had starved to death with your corpse in my arms? Besides, that old monster promised me that this technique could save you, so no matter what the cost was going to be, of course I-”

“So, you knew there would be a cost already?” Zhou Zishu cuts him off, expression like a brewing storm cloud, “You knew this was likely going to injure you, and you did not even think to warn me first? We could have prepared beforehand! You could have looked through the Yin Yang book and point out things that I could use to help you in an emergency! Dammit, Lao Wen, I thought you were supposed to be smarter than this!”

“Was there really time for things like that?” Wen Kexing argues back, “Your senses were already dying out one by one, if we did not try the technique as soon as possible, you might not have been able to complete it! If I told you how risky it is, would you agree to it? Would you still let me try to save you?”

“I deserve the right to make that choice!” Zhou Zishu shouts hoarsely.

“You do!” Wen Kexing agrees just as hotly, “But I owe it to Chengling to save his family. And I owe it to our master to save his teachings. And I owe it to you most of all. I ruined your chance at happiness. To rebuild the Four Seasons with Chengling and the other new disciples. You threw it all away to try and avenge me… The number of people in this world who have been good to me are few enough to count on one hand. I would do anything for them, and you most of all. How could I live without repaying this debt?”

“And what if I hadn’t been able to save you?!” Zhou Zishu demands thunderously.

“I didn’t expect you to save me!”

For a few moments, the words seem to echo of the cold walls of the armory, bouncing back at them over and over. The silence that follows after them is deafening. Zishu’s eyes are red, and his hands are trembling on Wen Kexing’s biceps, but he looks as though he is about to breathe fire.

“Good,” he says finally, his voice low and deadly, “Very good. You feel like you owe me so much, but all you want to do is torture me.”

“What?” Wen Kexing baulks, “No! Ah Xu, that’s not what I-”

But before he can finish the thought Zhou Zishu has already pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace, his breathing erratic, and his face buried in the side of his neck. Wen Kexing makes a pained grunt, his ribs still tender from previous injury. It only makes Zishu’s grip on him tighten, however, holding onto him with a furious desperation.

“In such a short stretch of time, I have had to see you dead or dying before my eyes over and over again,” he mumbles thickly into the silk of Wen Kexing’s robes, “You spent all this time chasing me down, pestering me to let you stay by my side, begging me not to die, and telling me to find things to feel hopeful about. But now it seems as though you are set on leaving me behind.”

“I never wanted to leave you,” Wen Kexing protests, but his voice seems to have lost all of its strength, “I just wanted to keep you safe. Even if I died, and you had to be sad for a while, you have so much left to live for, and I wanted you to have it. I just wanted you to be…happy.”

“Bastard,” Zhou Zishu laughs wetly, “Wen Kexing, you really are…the absolute worst sort of person.”

Wen Kexing sags in his embrace, his heart plummeting down into the pit of his stomach. His head droops, white hair falling across his eyes. Utterly defeated.

“I know.”

Zhou Zishu finally pulls back from him. There are obvious tear tracks down his cheeks, but he still looks fierce, regardless. He takes Wen Kexing roughly by the chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“You are also…my happiness.”

Wen Kexing gapes at him, for once in his life completely at a loss for words. Seeing an opening, Zhou Zishu takes the opportunity to kiss him again. Harsher this time. Brief and chaste and biting. It does not seem to help the other man’s sense of bafflement in the slightest. Indeed, Lao Wen looks as though his soul might have just flown straight out of his body.

Zishu smiles at him again, but there is still something sharp and wounded at its edges.

“Eternity would be an empty place without you,” he says quietly, “How could you leave me to bear it alone?”

“I…I’m…sorry,” Wen Kexing sputters, as though he does not know what else to say. He finally reaches back for Zhou Zishu, cautiously taking hold of his wrists. The ache in his chest seems to have spread outward, and he is shaking so badly that he fears he might not be able to sit up straight much longer. “I’m sorry. I just did not… I did not know how else to save you.”

“Mn,” Zhou Zishu nods in understanding, “I suppose I can forgive you for it this time, although some part of me still would like nothing so much as to throw you outside and beat some sense into that thick skull of yours.”

“I will accept any punishment you want to give me,” Wen Kexing tells him earnestly.

“Alright,” Zhou Zishu grins, “Then pay me back with your whole life. Stay alive, and stay with me. Always.”

Wen Kexing blinks in surprise, but the next moment he is laughing. Dizzy with relief and unexpected joy. Marveling at the gifts that fate has blessed him with after so many years of hatred and heartache.

“I can do that.”

~

When Zhou Zishu wakes up later that night Wen Kexing is sitting at the opposite end of their makeshift bed in nothing but his under robe. His back is facing him, and he takes a moment to stare at the snowy cascade of his hair. The living proof of what Lao Wen would sacrifice for him. It looks beautiful on him, as everything else seems to, but Zishu thinks he prefers the rich dark brown that he was born with. This new color comes with a twinge of guilt.

Not that he would ever say so.

“Lao Wen,” he calls softly, “What are you doing?”

Wen Kexing’s shoulders stiffen in surprise.

“Don’t come over,” he replies, “I’m not finished yet.”

“Ai,” Zishu grins, scooting close enough to lightly tug at a few strands of that bone white hair, “But that just makes me want to come over even more.”

“I have a knife,” Lao Wen says coolly, “I will use it if I have to.”

“You left our bed in the middle of the night to play with a knife?” Zishu laughs, not intimidated in the least. “Why?”

“If you stop pestering me for a few minutes maybe you’ll find out,” Wen Kexing snaps. Zhou Zishu is not fooled, though. He had caught the sharp inhale of breath when he had said the words ‘our bed’, and he is all but certain that Lao Wen’s threats are empty.

“But you’ll catch cold,” he coaxes, slipping his arms about his waist and pressing a kiss into his shoulder. He obligingly resists the urge to peek at whatever secret Wen Kexing is fiddling with, though. The other man sighs, but does nothing to discourage him, as expected.

“The next time you accuse me of being insufferable, I want you to remember this conversation,” Wen Kexing says wryly.

“It must be your bad influence,” Zhou Zishu chuckles.

Wen Kexing hums noncommittally, going back to whatever he had been working on before. Zhou Zishu sits patiently behind him, leaning into the warm curve of his back, listening to the steady beating of his heart and the faint scraping sound of a blade chipping away at something. The proximity is comfortable, and the quiet almost meditative, and before long Zishu is already half way back to being asleep.

“Alright,” Lao Wen says finally, carefully pulling himself free of Zhou Zishu’s arms and turning to face him, “You can look now.”

Zishu has to shake himself a little to wake up again, but once he does, he finds that Lao Wen is holding out what appears to be an oddly shaped icicle.

“…What is it?” he asks after a few moments of trying to puzzle it out for himself.

Wen Kexing frowns.

“It’s a hair pin,” he tells him, as though it should be obvious.

“Ah.”

“What do you mean, saying ‘ah’ with such a doubting face?” Wen Kexing huffs in annoyance, “Of course it is a hair pin, what else would it be? You lost the one I gave you before, so now I have to give you a new one to replace it.”

“I lost the one you gave me before?” Zhou Zishu laughs.

“That’s right,” Wen Kexing nods seriously, “But I promise not to be mad about it.”

“Philanthropist Wen is too kind.”

“It’s true,” Lao Wen sighs dramatically, “People are always taking advantage of my generous nature.”

He firmly places the hair pin in Zhou Zishu’s hands. Upon closer inspection, it looks to be roughly shaped like a tree branch. There are two lumpy circles that might be meant to be flowers attempting to bloom from it. The finished product is crude, but the ice is clear and crystalline. Pretty, even despite the skill level of the craftsman.

“It is meant to be plum blossoms,” Wen Kexing admits somewhat sheepishly, “One bloom for each of us. There was meant to be a bud for Chengling, too, but I accidentally broke it off. Hopefully, that is not an inauspicious sign for him.”

“I see,” Zhou Zishu says, because he does see, and just like the morning he had woken up to find the Four Seasons Manor cleaned and Wen Kexing diligently repairing his master’s old painting, he feels very much like he wants nothing more than to pull the other man into his arms again.

“Ah Xu, will you accept it?” Wen Kexing asks, slightly trepidatious at his lack of reaction.

“Of course,” Zishu smiles easily, “But it’s made of ice, after all. If I wear it, it will likely melt or break in a day or so.”

“If it breaks, I will just make you a new one,” Wen Kexing says, his eyes soft. He plucks the hair pin from Zhou Zishu’s fingers, reaching up and carefully sliding it into the loose knot at the base of his ponytail. “I can make you a new one every day, if I have to. With any luck, they will eventually look less ugly.”

He takes Zhou Zishu’s hands in his own.

“There are still things I am not good at saying,” he tells him, “Things that I want to share with you. Things that you deserve to hear. Right now, my skills are not enough, but just like with the hair pin, if I keep working at it every day, eventually I can give you something worth having.”

Zhou Zishu tugs him down into his embrace. He thinks about kissing him. About pushing him down and pulling his robe open and showing him, again, how very much he is wanted. But Lao Wen is still recovering from injuries, and it would be a shame to snap his new hair pin tussling around in the sheets. So, he makes do with holding him close, for now. Tangling his fingers in hair the color of starlight.

“Say them, or don’t say them,” he says quietly against the shell of Wen Kexing’s ear, “Whatever they are, they have no bearing on your worth to me.”

“Doesn’t that seem like my current value is lower than mud?” Wen Kexing laughs nervously.

“It means you are treasured,” Zishu corrects him firmly, “There is no price that I would sell you for.”

“I suppose that means I can stop living in fear that you would truly try and sell me to a brothel.”

“You really are a brat.”

“Ah Xu?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

[hoodoo12]

Beetlejuice Squared 1/2

Will Blum is onstage this week as The Ghost with the Most since Alex Brightman is out with COVID. I figured it was time to dust off this old thing . . .

NSFW. Beetlejuice x reader x Beetlejuice. Minor drug use.

Enjoy!

“Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice!”

You’d called, he arrived. He told you it always gave him a thrill, hearing his name from your mouth, and you socked him in the shoulder for being a sap and maybe a liar, because you were pretty sure he said that to anyone who’d called him up. Still, it was sweet, so you softened it with a kiss on the same spot you’d used your knuckles on and took him to the couch.

The two of you had made out a bit and you lost most of your clothing and he’d dumped his suit jacket and tie, but then you got a text that you couldn’t ignore, and you had to make a phone call. Beetlejuice grumbled and you waved him off, tossing him the TV remote as you left the room to finish talking to your boss about whatever dire emergency couldn’t wait until the weekend was over.

By the time you got back, Beetlejuice had his feet up and was smoking. He’d neglected to rebutton his shirt. As you didn’t keep cigarettes in the house and a distinctively different aroma than tobacco smoke filled the air, you smiled. You sank back down onto the couch and leaned into him.

Leisurely, he passed you the joint. It wasn’t earthly weed; he must have spirited it from the Netherworld. You knew from experience it was potent, and didn’t take too deep a pull on it.

With some documentary about flat-earthers on the TV, you and he passed the joint back and forth. It never got shorter or used up. It made you giggly and easily distracted. It also made you warm; even though you were pressed against his tepid body in only a thin shirt and panties, you didn’t feel the chill. The weed mellowed him too, and although his free hand stroked your upper thigh, he didn’t capitalize on it at the moment. In the back of your fuzzy mind you remembered Netherworld weed had some pretty intense aphrodisiac properties, which meant Beetlejuice was probably looking for some backdoor action and wanted to make sure you were properly relaxed and would be primed for his “sudden” suggestion of anal later.

You half watched the documentary, half scrolled through your phone. You found articles on flat-earthers, which led to articles on space, which led to articles on a red supergiant star that could go supernova any time in the next 100,000 years or so. That caught your eye.

“Look!” you told him, holding your phone up in his face. “It’s your name, I think.”

Beetlejuice squinted at the too close screen you shoved at him.

“Nah,” he replied. “It doesn’t have a ‘j’ in it.”

“No, I think it is!” you insisted. “Let me see . . .”

Quickly you tapped “Betelgeuse pronunciation” into the google search on your phone. There were some linguistics articles that would have been hard to read even if you weren’t stoned; then you found some youtube videos.

You clicked on the first, and a woman’s voice came through the speakers.

“Alpha Orionis has a more common name,” the narration began. “Derived from the Arabic Yad al-Jauzā', the eleventh brightest star in the night sky is Bhe-tle-juz.”

You listened to it again, then repeated it in the same clear monotone the woman had, wrapping your tongue around the slightly different pronunciation.

“Bhe-tle-juz.”

You flicked a 10 second rewind and listened to the voice again.

“Hey babe, I don’t think you should be doing that,” Beetlejuice protested mildly. “I don’t know if it’ll, you know, send me back--”

You ignored him.

“Bhe-tle-juz,” you said again. You liked it; it started with a softer mouthfeel than a hard B.

“--and we haven’t even gotten it on yet, not really!” Beetlejuice continued. A slight note of panic in his voice fought its way through the haze of dope. “Come on, babes, knock it off--”

“Bhe-tle-juz,” you said one last time, with a giggle.

A thin whistling filled the air. It did not hurt your ears, but it didn’t sound right, either. You grimaced and looked up at Beetlejuice to tell him to stop it, but a burst of light erupted in front of you then faded just as quickly as it appeared. You blinked rapidly to restore your burnt out vision, and standing in front of you, between the couch you and Beetlejuice were lounging on and the TV, was Beetlejuice.

⁂

“What the fuck?!” the Beetlejuice you were leaning against exclaimed, sitting up abruptly, half-dislodging you from his side.

You fumbled the joint so you didn’t drop it as you were jostled. “Hey! Watch it, Beej!”

The new Beetlejuice threw his gaze around the room with narrowed eyes and dramatically waved his hand in front of his face.

“Jesus christ,” he coughed. “What’s with all the weed?”

His eyes landed on you. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi!” you replied.

Whatever was happening, Beetlejuice’s dope smoothed out all the edges. You pushed yourself off the specter you were leaning on, shoved the still lit joint back into his hand, ignored his protest and his other hand that tried to keep a grip on your shirt, and got off the couch. You took a step towards the newcomer. “Who’re you?”

“I’m the ghost with the most, babydoll,” he replied. It was such a cliché you rolled your eyes, but you also couldn’t help but smile.

This was Beetlejuice, but not quite Beetlejuice. Although dressed in the striped suit you’d come to expect and with the same swept up rat’s nest of hair and scruff on his face, he was taller--much taller!--than the Beetlejuice you’d spent the evening with so far. Made bold by the smoke you had partaken in, you looked him over thoroughly, taking his hand (and finding his nails were solid black); straining on unsteady tip-toes to peer into his face (discovering his eyes were darker amber than the other Beetlejuice’s and his teeth were slightly less sharp).

He seemed as curious about you as you did him, and permitted the inspection with an air of amusement. You kept a hand on him, dragging your fingers lightly over him as you walked in a circle to look at his back. He watched you the entire time with a slight smile on his face, his head rotating completely around to keep track of you.

When you were where you started in front of him again, you left your hand on his chest and said, “Beej--”

“What?” they both answered together.

The new arrival didn’t have the same voice. It was less gravely. Less rough. You liked it. You stared up into his eyes and didn’t turn back to the Beetlejuice on the couch as you continued.

“--is this one of your clones?”

The reaction to the question was immediate, from both of them. Once again they spoke at the same time, over one another.

“The fuck, babe?” the Beetlejuice on the couch spit. “How could you even think that guy was my clones--”

“A clone?” the Beetlejuice in front of you said, offended. “You’ve got your hand on me, do I feel like a fucking clone--”

They both finished at the same time, “--that’s fucking ridiculous!”

The combination of a bottom-of-the-lungs rasp and a smooth voice merging together gave you a shiver.

“No,” you ceded, still looking up at the specter you were next to, “I guess you’re not a clone.”

The new Beetlejuice gave you a wider smile and reached forward to take your waist. His voice dropped a little, like he was talking only loud enough for you to hear. “That��s right, babydoll. Thanks for the invite. So tell me, what’s your pleasure?”

There was a literal growl from Beetlejuice on the couch, and in the next instant, you were yanked away from the other, wrapped up in a tight, protective hug from behind. From over your shoulder, Beetlejuice hissed,

“Back off, asshole!”

The new Beetlejuice held his hands up a moment. “Hey, dick. She called me. Breathers don’t do that unless they want something, and from the state of things here, I think I can guess what that might be.”

Beetlejuice held you against his bare chest tightly and another warning growl slipped past your ear.

Taller Beetlejuice looked over the two of you. “Babydoll, you called my name three times and here I am. For you. What can I do for you? Probably more than he can . . .”

“Hey--” you objected in Beetlejuice’s defense, and the other snorted a laugh.

“He’s gotta use the Netherworld’s primo weed to get you going? That doesn’t seem like a demon who can make things happen without a little outside assistance.”

You felt a little surge of protection for the Beetlejuice you knew best. “The weed was later, after we’d made out. I don’t need it to get hot and bothered, it’s just a bonus.”

The Beetlejuice holding you chuckled. He spun you, unprotesting, on your heel, to face him.

“That’s sweet, babe,” he told you, and lifted the joint held between his first two fingers to his mouth again.

He took a drag and held it in, then tilted his head and lifted his eyebrows at you. Reading his intention, you tilted your head too. With your hands flat on his chest, you stretched towards him until your parted lips were only millimeters away. Beetlejuice breathed a column of smoke directly into your mouth.

You got most of it too, before you smiled and tendrils of the thick smoke escaped. You held it in for a long moment, practically feeling the smoke permeate through your lungs, letting it settle heavily throughout your body all the way down to your fingertips and toes. Finally you let the remainder of it out, smiling languidly at Beetlejuice. Shotgun smoking with him always made you feel warm and mellow. Maybe the smoke picked up something in his lungs that transferred to you? You didn’t know, but it made you feel good.

Your smile was slow and there was a tingle in your extremities and in your groin. You didn’t step away, and pressed a sloppy kiss to his lower lip. Beetlejuice caught you around the waist with one arm as he raised the joint and brought it to his mouth again. You caught him staring directly at the other specter with a smug air and open challenge on his face.

Taller Beetlejuice scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Still doesn’t change the fact she called me.”

“She called me first, asshole!” Beetlejuice said with his arm still around you.

“And then she obviously decided to call someone better!”

The affects of the weed kept you slowed down for a moment, so you didn’t object when Beetlejuice released you and took a step between you and the second Beetlejuice you’d managed to summon into your living room. Still, you said,

“Hey. Beej? Beejes? Beeji? Bees?” Trying to determine the plural of the word struck you as funny, and you cut yourself off with giggling.

“It was a fucking mistake. You’re a fucking second string, honorary mention, cheap knock-off of me--”

“Someone’s got their panties in a twist. Feeling threatened ‘cause you know she’d choose me over you? Chicks like tall guys,” the newer arrival stated dismissively before he addressed you again. “Come on, babydoll, you wanna have some fun with someone who doesn’t need chemical enhancement to show you a good time?”

Beetlejuice responded to that with a snarl, while the other turned back on him with a comment on how he probably couldn’t even get it up at this point.

It slowly dawned in your fuzzy brain that there were two Beetlejuices slowly circling each other like two alpha predators looking for an opportunity to attack. Both of them had red shot through their hair, and there was a faint crackling in the air, like right before a lightening strike.

That cleared your head pretty quickly. The last thing you needed was your house torn apart in some spectral, demonic, dick-measuring contest. Especially when all you’d really wanted to do tonight was get laid.

“Hey,” you said.

They ignored you, focused so tightly on each other.

You cleared your throat and tried again, more loudly. “Hey! Beetlejuice! Bhetlejuz!”

Their full names caught their attention. They both turned to you.

“I called you both here,” you exclaimed boldly, “so that means I get to choose what I want!”

Both Beetlejuices turned to you with dangerously dark expressions, staring at you from beneath their brows, like they both suddenly remembered you were in the room, standing before them scantily clad and looking like prey.

You pushed on. “So I choose both of you. Either you’re in, or you’re out. I’m happy to send either of you away if you can’t play nicely.”

It was a gamble; calling Beetlejuice up gave him power and you truly didn’t have much control over him. Still, you sweetened the deal by casually drawing a hand down your own side and subtly cupping your own breast before letting your hand fall to the hem of your shirt. Coyly, you lifted it a few inches as you cocked a hip.

They both looked much less dangerous with their jaws loosened.

tbc . . .

[sparkletastic-cookiedough]

Okay, so I've read every Snake Oil post and the fic chapter and...

Well... my brain ended up crafting an Idea.

Quick disclaimer that I'm not here suggesting "hey why don't you rewrite your entire work because you suck"- in fact I think your ideas are wonderful and I absolutely adore your work, which is why I'm writing stuff. More along the lines of "wow this is a neat idea- what if I smack my own spin on it". (feel free to take these ideas and bounce off them again, flavoring them however you want. If you look at my ideas and say "ooh, that's good, I want; then you may feel free to take.)

Okay so, I kind of wanted to change Lydia's demonic development in a way that makes the story really long, but also feels emotionally satisfying to me.

After she dies, there's a brief waiting period before she re-emerges as a demon. Beetlejuice sees her dead body, and knows he is in for it when her demon form emerges. He has a solid moment of "oh no" before just dumping her corpse on the other side of the netherworld.

Adam and Barbara want to stay with Lydia, but Beetlejuice kind of owns their souls now, so they really can't do that. So when Lydia's Demon Form emerges, she's all alone, with her day-or-so old corpse in a ditch. And being left alone, she's left to ruminate, to run through the Netherworld on a mission of revenge. She comes across people that disrespected her back when she was human. She mauls them. Rumors spread of a very angry- and very powerful demon.

Lydia's demon slowly becomes consumed by revenge, by her anger, and she loses all traces of her humanity. She gets claws and horns, probably big wings because wings are cool. By the time she actually manages to encounter Beetlejuice again, she's almost completely taken over by her need to enact justice.

I like the idea of having a mini-plot in here where Lydia traverses the area, going on little missions and quests. Maybe we go with the whole "cowboy sandworm hunter" concept and stretch it a lot: Miss Argentina is more like a sharpshooter (Annie, from the beginning of Annie Get Your Gun, but with the flair and elegance that comes with Miss Argentina). Hell, stretch it even more, and we can add Lawrence to the mix- sort of the softer side of Beetlejuice's character that isn't expressed in this fic (so we make it a different person entirely for fun). Technically, you could put whatever characters you want in this segment. It's a crew of Sandworm Hunters that can consist of whatever cameo characters you choose to use. Over the course of the missions, Lydia makes some choices (revenge, refusing to give up on her anger, probably mauling people) that result in her becoming less and less human. Eventually, one of three things happen: Lydia choses to abandon her life with the sandworm hunters because she's able to see herself becoming too dangerous- maybe she ends up hurting one of them by accident/ the sandworm hunters abandon Lydia for being too dangerous (they can see the creature she's becoming)/ Lydia chooses to leave the hunters when she gets news of Beetlejuice's whereabouts (thus making her reject her chance at a different life and pursuing revenge, making her transformation get worse quite faster)

Anyway, rumors end up spreading about a really dangerous demon (Lydia) that keeps destroying stuff and probably mauling ghosts. Well, while the rumors spread and whatnot, Beetlejuice kind of went into hiding. He realizes that justice is coming for him, and he does not want to end up skewered by Lydia's big claws. He ends up ditching Adam and Barbara at one point because he just can't keep hiding them- especially since they keep leaving traces behind for Lydia. They manage to find her before she meets with Beetlejuice, and Lydia's transformation has gotten to the point that she's nearly completely unrecognizable. She can hardly speak (or maybe even can't speak at all- for this I kept visualizing her as like a giant wolf-like creature, purple and shadowy, six eyes, big bat wings, horns, claws). In fact, the only way they recognize her is because of the blood draining contraption. It's a complicated situation when they meet. Lydia is no longer in the same mental state, and her feelings over Adam and Barbara are complicated: they kind of abandoned her after she died (they didn't have much of a choice, but it's not like Lydia knows that), they helped Beetlejuice (again, not much of a choice, but in her anger Lydia isn't thinking very straight), and Lydia can't help but feel that they should've done more to protect her (not that they could've but hey she's a feral monster now, logic and reason aren't 100% there anymore). So they end up keeping their distance, but trying to protect the feral demon.

Meanwhile, Beetlejuice has been busy. His money supply is getting lower, and running away from Lydia has put him into financial trouble Maybe his customers find his warehouse and steal stuff as retribution for being such a scam artist, and dealing with the whole Lydia situation meant he couldn't be there to protect his stuff. Or perhaps he needs to fulfil a contract he made, assuming that he'd have human blood, only for Lydia to die on him. Anyway, Beetlejuice ends up kidnapping Skye while Adam and Barbara aren't there to stop him.

Adam and Barbara get wind that there's a certain demon selling blood again, and they end up investigating. Feral Lydia ends up finding Beetlejuice again. She instantly gets excited- this is her chance for revenge, it's what she's wanted for so long, but...

there's a living human there.

Suddenly, Lydia's needs shift. Rather than simply wanting revenge, she now feels the need to protect the girl she found, the human that's in a similar position to the one she was in. Running away from the demon, Feral Lydia ends up taking Skye.

Of course, Skye is initially horrified with the fact that a big scary monster kidnapped her from her kidnapper (Skye has been double kidnapped), but Skye figures out that the monster is actually quite gentle and caring towards her. The weird creature ends up bringing her human food (yogurt drops and strawberries especially, for some reason). Basil acts kind of like a guard dog towards Skye at first: very protective, very scary, but also soft towards Skye. It takes a little while for Barbara and Adam to get Basil to trust them again- (they don't use Lydia's real name because even she's forgotten it at this point). That, or something has to separate the Maitland's from Basil and Skye once again. Maybe Beetlejuice gets in the way, maybe their goal becomes preventing him from stealing yet another child.

As Basil and Skye interact more and more, Basil slowly becomes less and less scary-demon mode. Very slowly, Basil becomes more and more human. Through interacting with Skye, Lydia regains her humanity. She isn't brought back to the weak little girl she once was- no- she's changed forever. But she's turned from the mindless revenge monster she once was. Lydia takes on the role of Skye's protector.

Perhaps the ending has Skye going home, only to summon her demon best friend up to the human world too. Lydia reunites with her dad, we get some good fluff and a happy ending.

(This has been my au of your au)

ok the snakeoil au kinda freaks me out but i had a thought and needed to know, isnt it possible that continually taking blood to the point of exhaustion, even if giving time to get blood back, could kill someone because of the strain put on basically all organs but especially the heart? her life expectancy is rapidly going down dangerously from the torture unintentionally to her body by a dumbass, i feel like beej one day will come in the room to see a body and a pissed off new ghost prepared to attack him. i hope this sends and tumblr isnt messing with me because im on the phone, because this is genuinely a consequence that i think would be interesting that hed have to deal with.

i wonder what kind of ghost you'd get if someone reached their absolute limit both physically and mentally, both at the same time - realised they were dying, that everything had been taken from them but couldnt act on the cold fury of it before their heart gave out. i think that would make an interesting ghost.

(this is not me saying im going to kill lydia in this au, btw. but also im not saying im not going to. spitballing here.)

but yeah, to think in terms slightly more medically accurate than i would usually, shes repeatedly bled until shes hyperventilating and her blood pressure drops and her heart is beating far too fast, and never given the time to fully recover. that isnt sustainable. as much as beetlejuice claims to want to keep her alive hes slowly killing her. and then, if the poor kid does die, their dynamic instantly changes. she isnt useful to him anymore. hed probably try to shoo her off so he can go find a replacement. but hes a goddamn idot if he thinks this new ghost is going to leave him alone, or let him put anyone else through what he did to her.

[gatorkid509]

Yep! I finally made one of my Demon Kids after promising for so long that I'd draw them eventually, and after so long I finally made one of them. Meet Fei Gao, son of Hsi Wu the Sky Demon, older brother of @amnshe-wolf​'s Skyler. Here's a small bio about him( He has a full bio, but it's not finished yet) Born after his father got one of his many one night stands pregnant, Fei Gao was mainly seen as a burden by his dad due to not only being forced to raise him by his elder siblings( Minus Shendu) but for also being weak due to a congenital limb defect that resulted in Fei Gao not having his right arm when he was born. With every chance he got, Hsi Wu made Fei Gao's life with him almost torture by belittling and mocking him every chance he got, While he saw no love from his father, Fei was shown love from the rest of his family, mainly by his cousins and little brother Skyler, who Fei Gao desperately wanted to protect due to his dad belittling the younger brother as well. When his dad and the rest of his aunts and uncles were banished to the Netherworld and he and his cousins got trapped in a pocket dimension by the 8 Immortals, Fei Gao did feel relieved that his dad was gone from their lives but had to step with his cousins Cindy and Marea to protect the rest of the cousins from harm. When they were finally freed and given a place to stay by the Chans and Section 13, Fei Gao was given a mechanical prosthetic arm that was built by the Ice Crew and is now much more deadly in a fight. I'm very proud of how well he turned out, mainly the legs as it was my first time drawing a creature with 2 toes, and also his hair which I  unintentionally made to look pretty similar to Yuki Sohma's hair from Fruits Basket.( Actually it was @amnshe-wolf​'s idea to make Fei's hair white to differentiate him from his dad), His wings were pretty hard to do, and also I know Hsi Wu's wings don't have the webbing, but Fei has it because he he inherited it from his mother, who is a gargoyle, and his nose is the same as his dad's human nose. His clothing colors are actually the colors from Hsi Wu's human clothes, they were going to be a darker shade, but once I put him in those colors, they looked too good on him to change them. Also his face initially looked much different then it is now, it originally much more softer looking and his eyes and eyebrows looked much less angry, but I decided to change it due to his original face looking too young, so I re did the face to make him look more older. Also when I when to transfer his picture onto a new sketch because the one he was initially drawn in was to small to add the text for the color reference, and when I went to put his picture onto the new sketch, the picture became a bit unfocused and it made the lines look more messy, so that was bad and I couldn't figure out how that happened or how to fix it. Here's what the pic is suppose to look like:

Also no human form for him, I might design it in the future. Same goes for his mechanical prosthetic arm.( I actually made him have a missing arm because I did want to draw it, then I came up with the idea for him having a missing arm.) ( Also yes, I forgot to put the date on it, sorry) 1 Demon Kid Down!!! 7 to Go!!!! Geez, that's going to take a while.... And so I think that it, tell me what you think.

[happybeeps-nat]

Finnpoe Week 2020 - day 1: high school AU and/or meet the parents

an event by the lovely @finnpoeevents

Love is Bigger

Finn knew he couldn't ever meet Poe's mother in this life. But, well, this wasn't exactly life, was it?

Rating: teen and up audiences Warning: major character death Words: 2155 Characters: Poe Dameron, Finn (Star Wars), Shara Bey Tags: Meet the Family, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, That's Not How The Force Works, but i dont care, Freeform, Finnpoe week 2020, i swear this is a rather happy fic, Afterlife            

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Black One was burning, smoking, hurtling toward the ground at a speed Finn could not keep up with from where he was watching. But he didn’t need to keep track as he heard Poe through the comm link in his ear, heard Poe’s voice above all the cries and screams and explosions. Poe’s voice overshadowing death around him.

“Finn? Finn, I love you, okay?” the frantic, shaking voice came, anchoring Finn in the present, pulling his attention from the pain that seemed to overtake his whole body. “Finn, you’re okay. I’m sorry I-” Static kept Finn from understanding what Poe said. “- love you.”

“I love you, too, Poe,” Finn rasped.

“You’re okay, Finn. We’re okay, it won’t be long,” Poe promised.

Vaguely, distantly, Finn realised Poe’s voice was wavering, shaking, like he was scared. That made sense, everyone would be scared if they were crashing down to certain death. He didn’t want Poe to be scared, though. He never wanted Poe to be scared. A selfish part of him was glad that they could die together, win this war together, but he still didn’t want Poe to be scared.

“Poe,” he said, rasped, he wasn’t sure he had a voice.

“Yeah? I’m here, buddy.”

Not much longer, Finn thought, as he managed to blink and focus on Black One again.

“Me too,” he said, but again, not much longer. He couldn’t feel his limbs. But the pain was gone. And was his eyesight. He was tired and he couldn’t see, so he closed his eyes. There, much better. Now he could sleep. Finally get some sleep again, he was so tired.

Poe was speaking again, saying something, sounding frantic and breathing fast, too fast, more than Finn. Right, breathing, that was a good idea. But it was hard. Too much effort.

The last thing Finn heard was an explosion that sounded distinctively different to every other crash around him. Accompanied by Poe’s voice. And then complete and utter silence.

*

Finn woke with a gasp. Or he tried to, but his lungs wouldn’t fill with air. Turned out they didn’t need to because he was fine without air. That was curious.

He opened his eyes and saw a world that seemed to be taken out of a children’s book. One that made them believe in a land where only peace existed and everything was made of light. But the light didn’t blind you, it merely showed you the way and that you were welcome to stay.

Never before had he seen such a place. It was… magical. There were trees around him and the grass underneath him was soft but glistening and glittering with silver light. Not golden but silver and green and peaceful.

Still, his first instinct was to mistrust this sudden peacefulness. Where was he, how did he get here? Why did it feel so right to be here? And where was Poe?

Poe. Finn looked down to check for his wounds he knew had to be there, but they weren’t. His clothes were pristine like they never were, there was no time in war for laundry days, but there he was. Clean, unwounded, at ease, only mildly confused because everything within him screamed that this was right, this was real, this was not a dream and he was okay and that this was-

“The Netherworld of the Force,” a voice came from behind him. Finn was on his feet just a second later and turned around to the voice. There was a woman looking at him, giving him a soft smile that seemed vaguely familiar. She was drenched in the silvery-green light of the shining forest and seemed not at all confused about his being here.

“Sorry?”

Her smile got impossibly softer, patient. “That is where we are. Some people call it the afterlife, but this is the name I know.”

“Afterlife,” Finn repeated, thoughts racing in a distinctively slow manner - and how did that work? “That means… I died?”

“You did,” the women said, not at all perturbed by that.

Finn looked around. Surely, if he was here, everyone else must follow soon. But there was no one else around. “Where are the others?” Where is Poe?

Now the woman’s expression turned sad, but no less patient. “I’m sorry, Finn, I don’t know.”

He had so many questions, and with every answer he got, they seemed to double. But the woman… Finn had seen her before, he was absolutely sure, but he could not say where. Or when. Had he killed her once? But then, why would she be smiling? Questions upon questions upon questions. Could you get a headache in the afterlife?

“I’m sorry,” he sighed after a while. “How do you know my name? Is that an afterlife thing or have we met or-” did I kill you after all? Are my questions stupid? Where is Poe?

Her smile widened and she took a step toward him. “Finn. I know you. I felt you. I could not wait to finally meet you.” She took her hands in his and Finn was surprised to find them warm. “You do not know me, though. You know my son, Poe. And my friends and my husband. I am Shara Bey, and I’m really happy to meet you.”

Finn’s eyes widened. Shara Bey? Rebel hero Shara Bey? Poe’s mother?

“You must have so many questions,” she laughed, and it was then that Finn recognised her. The eyes, the smile, the laugh, the confidence with which she carried herself. Her beautiful face and curly hair. This woman could only be Poe’s mother.

Finn didn’t know what to say, so he only squeezed her hands. It was curious to know you could still squeeze hands in the afterlife. Right, death. That happened. Also, yes, you could get a headache in the afterlife.

“Can I hug you?” he asked because usually, he would have gotten a hug from Poe by now with everything going on, but Poe was not here, and this was not usual, and he just really wanted a hug.

Shara smiled at him with a softness in her eyes that Finn had only seen in the way Leia had looked at Poe. Leia - was she here as well? Before he could ask, though, Shara had opened her arms and tugged him in the way Poe had done so often, but this was warmer. Finn knew he had died what felt like ten minutes ago, he was in a world he didn’t know and Poe was not around and he was completely out of his depth here, but still he was not scared. Like there was something in the air, something in the way the light shone around him that told him everything was going to be alright. And then there was Shara’s hug that felt like home and Finn was inclined to actually believe that maybe for once, everything would be alright.

They sat down in the grass because Finn didn’t want to move. He couldn’t possibly understand how this realm worked, but if he was here and Poe had crashed not far from him, there was a small chance Poe could also be here. Not only here in this realm but also here in close proximity.

And if there was one thing Finn did know above all those questions still circling in his head, it was that he did not want to spend eternity in the afterlife without Poe. So they stayed and Shara told him everything she knew about the Netherworld of the Force while Finn watched the air above them move and sparkle with little particles of light.

He found he enjoyed listening to Shara almost as much as he did with Poe. She, too, had a faint Yavinic accent that made her voice melodious and beautiful and really, if he were to spend the rest of time here, at least he had company he enjoyed.

“I am happy my son found you, dear,” Shara said.

Finn was touched by that but the thought of Poe made him look around again and scan the trees made of light again, searching for movement, searching for Poe. Wishing for Poe. “I hope he will again,” he said at last.

Shara smiled. “He will.”

“How do you know?”

“I know my son. He is stubborn and in love. That is a dangerous mix not even the Force can handle. He will find his way to you,” she said with a tone of finality.

And Finn was inclined to believe her. He wanted to believe her.

“Tell me more about my son,” she pleaded and Finn did, for both their sakes. The smile on Shara’s face warmed his heart and he was sure the same smile could be found on his lips as well.

They traded a story for a story, Poe as a toddler for Poe as a mutineer, Poe as a baby for Poe when he first kissed Finn, Poe as a five year-old stubborn saviour of a stray droid for Poe as a reckless, wonderful, heroic pilot saving the day and the Resistance and the Galaxy as per usual.

“He comes just after his mother,” she said with a laugh.

Finn nodded. “That’s what Kes used to say, yeah.”

Shara got quiet then, thoughtful, sad, and Finn wondered what he had said, what he had done wrong. But it was the same kind of thoughtful sadness he had seen in Kes when they talked about Shara. So maybe it was their thing. He was certain that if he had to spend years and years without Poe by his side, he would have that same gaze. And he really didn’t want that to happen.

They spent a few moments in silence then and Finn resorted to watching the air moving above them, not ready to close his eyes against this beautiful world just yet. That was just his luck, because movement caught his eyes, a figure was stumbling their way through the forest, leaning on the trees as they went, confused, disoriented, just on the brink of panic, as it seemed - which was remarkable since Finn didn’t think it possible to experience negative emotions in here.

He squinted his eyes, trying to make out the form that was slowly coming closer, stumbling backwards before taking two steps forward again. The way they carried themselves, the way their hair was mussed and all over the place, the way they seemed to be talking to themselves…

Poe! Before he knew it, Finn got up and ran towards the figure.

“Poe!” he called. The figure turned and looked at Finn, and sure enough, it was Poe.

“Finn,” he breathed, confusion so obvious in his face. His eyes were wide, he was shaking, stumbling, trying to make his way to him.

“I’ve got you,” Finn said, catching him and pulling Poe against himself. Poe was here. Poe was here with him, Poe was safe. Confused, scared, but safe with him. “I’ve got you,” Finn mumbled again, kissing the side of his face.

“Finn,” was all Poe said, burying his face against Finn’s neck and breathing him in. “What- why- How? Where are we? What is happening? I thought you- I- we? I’m… Finn?”

Finn ran a hand through Poe’s hair in a manner that always used to calm both of them down. After a while, Poe stopped trembling and seemed calmer. “Come with me, we will explain everything, okay?”

Poe looked up. “We?”

“Well,” Finn smiled, shy all of a sudden. “I sort of met someone.”

Poe frowned but then his eyes went somewhere over Finn’s shoulder and his eyes widened, his jaw fell in shock and utterly overwhelmed surprise. He took a tentative step forward and then froze, still clinging to Finn’s hand.

“Mama?”

Shara stood there, tears in her eyes, looking at her son with a look in her eyes Finn did not have the words to describe.

“Hello, sunshine,” she said, and before the words were out of her mouth, Poe had let go of Finn’s hand and ran towards her on unsteady but stubborn legs until he could throw her arms around her.

“Hi, mama,” Poe said and didn’t ask any questions for a while, just stood there with his arms wrapped around his mother for the first time since he was a little kid.

Later, much later, though time was not a real concept in this realm, Shara explained them what she knew. Why Poe could possibly be here with them even though he didn’t have the Force.

“The Force likes to bring balance and keep it. It does not separate what belongs together. And you two so clearly do. Not even the Force can separate that.”

She smiled at them and Finn’s heart melted at that, but there was still a hint of sadness there that only disappeared one day when a certain Kes Dameron made his way through the forest.

[dhampiravidi]

The sudden, subtle click that seemed to reverberate through the shop made Oraia tense up, but her eyes stayed locked on the stranger's face. She'd gotten distracted by similar tricks before and ended up...well, she preferred to learn from her past. As for the demon admitting what he was...she didn't know how to feel about that. What did it mean, to not take one's identity seriously? Did she take being a goddess seriously? She knew about her parents' pantheons, but she wasn't really tied to either, and she'd made a business using her talents in conjunction with her magic, as opposed to sitting on some throne waiting for prayers.

So...maybe he was more interested in reading, or at least his friend's reading, than he was in tricking humans into Hell/Hel/Tartarus/the netherworld (they all were basically the same but they had their differences, based on whatever the deceased believed in--sort of like different colleges offering most, but not all, of the same classes). Honestly, Oraia was on the fence about "Anthony J. Crowley". So she was going to remain careful while agreeing to help him. That would enable her to keep Artie safe from the guy's wrath, at least.

"I'm keeping the knife out, but I will say that I'm less likely to use it on you, now," she said calmly, voice slightly softer than before. "Last question before I agree to help you: what kinds of books does your friend typically read?" She wanted to make sure that the thing wasn't something multiple parties would be fighting over, and that it wasn't some nefarious/dark-aligned grimoire. She'd fought people to acquire objects before, but a less-dangerous mission was preferable (not to mention--her price went up if her journey included risking her life). In addition, there was no way in the heavens or down below she was handing a book of spells over to someone she herself didn't know well or trust. Still, the book's title and the fact that the title had been written in that language piqued her interest, damn her curiosity.

When he noticed the knife, he groaned loudly, head thrown back in exaggerated, albeit sincere, frustration. With a snap of his fingers every lock in the building did what it was made to do and secured the establishment. If it was going to be like that, he really didn’t want matters to get more complicated.

“Okay fine,” Crowley replied, rolling his eyes. “Fine yes, I’m a demon, but look, it’s not like I ever took it that seriously. At least not since the whole mess with Cain.” He added the last as a muttered aside, still feeling vaguely guilty. Crowley truly hadn’t meant for him to kill his brother. Maybe just to have a proper row and not speak to each other for a few years. 

He crossed his arms and regarded her shrewdly. That knife was something else. It would probably do something awful if it was stuck anywhere in his body, and it wasn't like he enjoyed being stabbed as a general rule. Crowley needed to defuse the situation because he really didn’t want to end up doing mountains of paperwork to get a new body or worse. It was very hard to kill a celestial or infernal entity permanently, but he had a feeling that weapon of hers would do so quite handily.

With a regretful sigh, Crowley removed his glasses, hoping the added expression would make it easier for her to at least listen to him. “Will you put that thing away?” Crowley sighed, still sounding irritable but also trying very hard not to seem like a threat. Difficult thing that. Especially these days. Everyone seemed so much more suspicious and paranoid but not of the right things. Case in point. “Be objective here. This isn’t an attack, this isn’t a bloody trick. You find things. I want something found. Simple, easy innit?” 

[rubykgrant]

So I’ve been trying to think of a Netherworld/Neitherworld outfit for Luna (if my Beetlejuice sequel thing actually got to be a real thing, and lead to a re-boot of the animated series). I didn’t just want to do Lydia’s outfit but pink. I wound up with something that is almost kinda like a little kid version of Beetlejuice’s iconic outfit (but with a bat-wing skirt), this way they match! I know, it doesn’t look very “spooky”, but Luna’s whole deal is she looks very adorable, while actually having a more hard-core side. She absolutely takes advantage of that, too. I wanted this outfit to also be something a kid might actually want to wear. Her normal outfit has softer tones, so her creepy magic outfit is has solid black and a very vibrant pink. Also, it is fun what happens with the inverted colors~

[commorsicoclub]

The Commorisco Club (5)

Chapter Five: Magnus  

She tried to remember the words to the song she last heard on the radio before demonic forces pulled her into the Netherworld. The melody came easy enough, but she could not remember the words to it all and merely ended up repeating the chorus over and over.

Much like Danny was returned to the room by his devourer, Mickael was returned a little while later by the Demoness, Lyra. She had him wrapped in a swathe of purple brocade and though the human was clearly unconscious, she was murmuring sweet nothings to him, one hand petting the boy’s head.

“Such a yummy treat,” she said quietly to him, nuzzling him affectionately. “You did so well. Mmmmm. Sleep now, my sweet boy. You deserve it.”

Michael was laid down, still wrapped in the ornate fabric, and Lyra took her leave. Not but a few moments later, Egan walked into the room and curled up in his hands lay the prone form of James, still damp from the demon’s saliva and stomach juices. Egan crouched down to the nearest cushion and deposited his spent meal down into the plush surface before wordlessly leaving. So when the door opened again roughly a half hour later, she was sure Rolland was back with Valarie and did not bother rolling over to confirm. She continued to stare at the wall facing away from the entrance, still trying to remember the lyrics to the song.  

“Well, well, well, it does seem that I’m late for my dinner.”

Every neuron in her body fired at once as a seeping dread sent tingles down her spine. Trembling instantly, Erin slowly pulled her arms close to her body and bite her lip to try and keep her teeth from chattering. She could hear the steady taping of his shoes and he took slow easy steps around the other sleeping forms until the sound stopped. She could sense him behind her. Above her. Though her mind was rapid firing warnings and screaming at her to run, hide, do something, she remained still. As still as a frightened rabbit. She would do as Rolland said and just allow it all to happen. He would eat her regardless of her feelings, so she did her best to remove feelings from it.

A sense of a great something shifted above her and there was a sudden pressure at her back, fingers. They pressed down into the cushion beneath her and Erin involuntarily rolled back and into his waiting hands. Despite herself, she cried out in alarm and made to grab at the fingers for stability. One hand cradled her back and the other curled around her legs. She felt the brush of warm air as he huff an amused laugh.

“Hello, my Pet,” he purred. His dull purple eyes lit into glowing violet and they drank in her image. His hands were warm, hot even, and it made her skin prickle. She began to squirm as she was want to do, but stopped herself. She looked away from his glowing eyes that were full of desire and want.  

“You look tired,” he mused softly, slowly standing and bringing her closer to his chest.

She kept her gaze turned from him and tried to concentrate on keeping her hands from trembling. “R-Rolland says...that I’m well enough...for feeding...”

He hummed, amused. “Hm. Does he now?”

“And he told me not to struggle,” she said, everything in her tensing. “Or fight you...because you’re late for the meeting and he isn’t happy...”

“Heh, well Rolland is rarely ‘happy’. But that is awfully considerate of you to oblige my tight schedule.”

Her efforts to maintain an air of placidity broke and she began to cry. “Please….please just get it over with. I’m so tired of all this waiting. Everyone else was already eaten and I had to sit there watch all of it. And I...I just want to sleep and for this not to be real for a little while. Please. I won’t struggle. I’ll...try not to. I’ll be good.”

There was a very long pause and she began to dread that she may have angered him. Then his voice fell over her, low and smooth. Gentle. “Very well, Pet.”

She felt the heat of him first and then the dark of his mouth encompassed her. With a slow, deliberate ease, he slipped her onto his tongue and took the first half of her into him. His tongue stretched out under her to form a broad place for her to lay, its thick sides curling up around her shoulders, and she felt a familiar heat seep into her clothes as the pooling saliva began to soak them. She wondered idly if she was really that tasty. She felt his lips close in around her thighs, gently undulating as his jaws moved back and forth rhythmically and he began his real tasting of his somewhat willing meal. From the back of his throat, a gust of warm air blew up and out his nose. A sigh of delight followed by the vibrations of pleased hums. He seemed to enjoying her very much. But the sound of his enjoyment of her, the way he salivated heavily and the eager attentions of his tongue broke her resolve and it dissolved into the pools of saliva around her. Her best efforts were not enough and she shook with emotion and fear. It was dark and hot and wet and she hated everything about what was happening and she wanted out. She wanted out now.

“No. No, please. Let me out!” she cried, reaching up with her hands to slap the hard palate above her. “I can’t, I can’t do this again! Please, let me go. Please!”

He hummed around her, not stopping the undulations of his jaw or tongue. His fingers were at her calves, holding them firmly, but no hurting her. They began to rub them lightly as those he meant to soothe her, but all it managed to do was remind her of her first visit to his belly. He let her squirm and cry and plead as though waiting for her to lose the spark of defiance. When she did finally stop and melt into a blubbering pool of tears, he ushered her in further with a pull of his tongue. Several things happened in quick succession. She felt the top of her head hit the back of his throat and sensed the gullet below open to receive her. She made a jerky movement as though to start up her struggled again, but the muscles gripped and she sank into him as he took a hard swallow. She fell deeper into him than she had the first time he had done this and the extreme way in which he was getting her down set her into panic mode. Her hands were free this time and she made use of them by pushing against the flesh of his esophagus, but they slipped and there was nothing for her to gain any purchase. Her back half rested in his mouth and though she sensed his wanting to continuing on with his tasting of her, his decision to get her down quickly took precedent. He swallowed again, softer this time since he had a firm grip on her and she was not going anywhere but down. One more gentle gulp and she fell, slipping through the Demon, passed his lungs and heart. In short order, she slide smoothly into his belly. A sudden welcomed weight in his middle.  

She bristled against the cloying pressure of the supple flesh, moving as though to get away from the feeling, but there was no where to go. Her worst fears were made real. She was in a demon’s belly again. Swallowed up like nothing. Everything that mattered about her, every effort she ever made in her life, her triumphs and failures, and every significant moment of her short years...no longer meant anything. She was not a person anymore. She was food. And no matter what she did from now on it would not matter. Because time and time again, he would come and he would swallow her. He would keep her in the center of himself and take what wasn’t his and discard her until she was useful again.

Through the stomach walls and layers of flesh beyond, Erin thought she could hear him saying something to her, but her mind was far too broken to care. There was a pressure against her and she was vaguely aware of his hand rubbing at her form. All sensation became muted and she closed her eyes and for a moment when she was her most vulnerable...she wished he would just digest her. For real. Kill her. Have it all end.

Because she could never live like this…

The first pulse brought her back to awareness. Her strength was leached from her as his stomach set to work and pulled what it wanted from her. Another pulse and she felt her own stomach flip flop with unease. The sensation of being drained was alarming and unpleasant and with a third and final pulse, she met with the dark abyss of sleep and in she fell.

……………………………………………..

Voices were the firs thing to breach the fog. Far off mumbling and conversation. A laugh. She felt something over her shoulders, soft and welcoming and in her mind’s eye she was wrapped in her favorite comforter in her room at home, and listening to the rain tap against the window. There was a securing pressure against her back and below her and then she thought perhaps she had fallen asleep on the couch. But no, that wasn’t right. She wasn’t at home anymore…

Her eyes opened and half of her vision was blocked by plush white fabric, intricate designs were embroidered through it and all of her was wrapped in it. She felt warm and was surprised that she didn’t have a headache. She didn’t feel all that terrible either. Just...very tired. Tired in the same way after she would go on a run to try and cure her insomnia. She blinked, trying to focus in on the images beyond the field of fabric and with slow recognition, she saw Archeon. He was standing behind a chair, drinking from a goblet. He was laughing. The person in the chair...she saw the white suit and his name popped into her head. Rolland. He had been the one who had eaten Valarie. She was crying when she went down. He hadn’t cared. He looked awfully content now, sipping out of a goblet of his own. Another voice spoke then, feminine and cheerful. Archeon said something back, but their words drifted unintelligible above her head.

She was so tired…

A hands drew in from above her and gripped the edge of the fabric and pulled it over her and the sight of the gathered demons vanished. There came a light pressure against her back and a gentle voice whispered to her, “Sleep now, Pet. All is well. Shhh. Just sleep.”

She closed her eyes and wordlessly obeyed.

…………………………………………………………………….

She awoke to the ticking of a clock and it did not take her long to understand she was not in the velvet room. The thing under her was not covered in velvet and was actually quite lumpy and what was more, she was wrapped in delicately embroidered cotton. But of everything else, she was most confused as to why she did not feel as terrible as the first time she had woken up after spending the night in a demon’s stomach.

She slowly pushed herself up and her arms only wobbled a little. She labored to pushed the bulk of the fabric away from her head and took the first survey of her surroundings. It was much larger than the velvet room and as she took in the sight of it all she almost laughed at the absurdity of what she was seeing. The room looked like the Victorian era ate too many Halloween decorations and threw up. The walls were covered in dark wallpaper and there was an ornate fireplace to one side, the grate looking like the gruesome fangs of a terrible creature, and within the fire glowed...green? The fire was green. A large window encompassed the farthest wall, but the dark curtains were drawn closed, though slips of light could be seen through the gaps. The fire was the main source of light and while bright enough to see, the room was cast in an ominous haze of black and green.

She carefully untangled her feet from the fabric and slowly stood up, her back cracking. She was studying the corners of the room when a velvety voice from behind her spoke up. “Good morning, Pet.”

She whirled around, but her feet were caught in the many folds of her blanket and she slipped. She landed hard on her back with her head smacking painfully against the floor. She saw stars and curled into herself, wrapping her arms around the offending goose egg that was sure to be there tomorrow. Something grazed her arm and she opened her eye to see a large hand reaching out from the dark. She cried out and began to scramble away, fervently kicking at the fabric to try and free herself as well as the hand. And the long and wicked looking clawed nails.  

“You’re not winning yourself any pity points here, human,” the demon said, almost laughing, cupping his hand and moving it to block her path and gather her up all in once fluid motion. She tensed and waited for those fingers to pull in and grab her up. Maybe dangle her over his face and taunt her with his teeth in the same way Archeon had to Danny. But he held her there, still and unmoving. She felt the fabric at her feet pull away and then his other hand moving to meet the other and he held her loosely between his cupped hands. Erin sat there, quivering with her heart in her throat and then the demon spoke again. “Now, I am going to remove my hands and you are going to stay where you are. If you start flailing around again, I will grab you and we will try again. Understand?”

She waited for a few moments, biting her lips anxiously, and then nodded.

“Good,” he purred, sounding pleased. And true to his word, he slowly eased back his hands and Erin was left exposed. She slowly turned her head, almost too afraid to look at him, but when she saw the glowing purple eyes, she was no long there in that room. She was tied up and laying on a plate, waiting for a monster to come for her and slip her passed his teeth and tongue and for all sound to disappear behind a deafening GULP.

And then there was light and she was blinded, the suddenness of it startling her from her abject terror. She rubbed the dancing spots from her eyes and heard the demon chuckle.    

“If you are so afraid of the dark, Pet,” he said teasingly. “You only need ask for a light.”

Her vision cleared and looking up, the room no longer appeared as though every corner hide a secret danger. The wallpaper was a strange periwinkle like color and the mantle that had, in the dark, formerly looked like the gaping jaws of a large animal, was quite normal if not overly ornate and carved from a deep rich mahogany wood that was polished to a brilliant sheen. A gold clock sat in the center of it and was the source of the insistent ticking. The fire was still green, though.    

And for the first time, she truly saw her demon as he was, instead of glimpses from the shadows.

He wasn’t the tallest of the demons, maybe just a tad bit shy of Archeon’s height, but he was lean and broad shouldered. Or at least, his clothing gave him that silhouette. His face was almost boyish with his shaggy black hair, but there was something in his face that aged him without it imprinting on looks. A sharp intelligence behind his eyes that was more intimidating than the curling horns on his head or his height or claws. Or appetite.

The orb of light left his hand and floated up to hover above them, buoyant in a nonexistent tide, and it was then that she understood where she was sitting. She was on a desk in the corner of the room. To one end of the desk was an ink pot and a quill sitting in it’s stand. The Demon sat before her in his chair and she could make out the tall wooden back that rose beyond his shoulders. He reached out towards her again, she gasped, shutting her eyes tightly and mewling in fear. She waited for something to happen, but instead, there was the rustling of fabric and the squeal of a chair being pushed back. When she worked up the courage to look, the demon was standing, haven retrieved a folded coat from atop the desk. That was the lumyp thing she had been sleeping on, she realized dimly. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, the edge of his mouth switching in a small smirk.

“Such a skittish little thing,” he said indulgently and shook his head. He spent a moment flinging out the coat before refolding draping it over the back of his chair. Once he had finished his small task, he pushed in the chair and walked further into the room towards one of the walls where there was a floor to ceiling build in bookcase. The shelves upon which every available slot was filled with a book or tomes or scroll of unknowing origin. He scanned the books on the shelf for several moments, running a clawed finger nail along their spines in search of something. Erin looked back at the chair. He had pushed it in, but she bet that it wasn’t to far down for her to climb onto the seat and then on the floor and then...to somewhere. She had expected to wake up in the velvet room, not his personal office. Something felt off and she wanted no part in any of it. If she could make it back to the velvet room before he noticed…

“Uh-uh-uh, human,” the demon said, one finger pointed at her accusingly and the other still scanning the books. He was not even looking at her. She bristled at being caught, even though she had only just got onto her hands and feet and barely had she even moved. “Stay right there.’

He turned his head just enough to pin her with one glowing eye. “If I have to go chasing you about, I may have to consider a second helping.”

She quickly sat down and put her hands on her lap, shaking her head fervently in response.

“Good girl.” She gulped nervously, waiting for him to find whatever it was he was searching for. After several minutes, he cursed and scowled. “Damn you, Rolland. You never return anything you borrow.”

With a frustrated sigh he ran a hand through his hair and turned back to the desk. As he approached, she opened her mouth and in a small, nervous voice asked, “Please, sir...I...why am I here? Why aren’t I back with the others in the velvet room?”

“The velvet room?” he asked, a single brow raised in confusion as he sat back into his chair. And then he laughed as understanding struck him. “Oh. Ha! The velvet room? You mean the larder.”

She frowned and furrowed her brow, a sinking feeling in her belly. “...the larder? T-that’s...that’s what you call it?”

“Well,” he admitted, setting his head in his hands and regarding her with a toothy smile, eye glowing in wicked delight. “That is where the food is kept.”

She shrank away, the hunger in his eyes sending her nerves sparking with unease. “Is...is that why it looks like a stomach?”

“More or less, yes,” he admitted with a chuckle. “Archeon’s little joke. He’s very proud of it.”

Erin did not find it funny in the least and the morbid idea that their place of respite from their demonic bellies was inside a room designed to look like the inside of a stomach. She found herself feeling angry at how easily they tossed about jokes involving their very real terror. How little they mattered.  

“It’s sick.”

“Oh? How so? Granted, I didn’t think it was the most creative thing to have thought of, but his execution must be commended. Why? Does it upset you? Hit a little too close to the mark?”

She sniffed miserably and crossed her arms over her middle. “Yes.”

“Regardless of the shape, it is still what is it,” he said. “It won’t change the reality of why you all are here.”

She snorted humorlessly. “You guys are really good at making sure we’re well aware of why we’re here. Rolland made a speech and everything. Right before he ate my friend as she cried and begged him to stop.”

She stared at the desk’s surface for a long time, the horrible memory of poor Valarie sobbing and her please for mercy as she disappeared between Rolland’s lips. She nearly jumped out of her skin when something brushed her back and before she could see what what happening, his fingers were wrapped around her middle. With Valarie’s cries still echoing in her head, she started thrashing. “Please,” she begged as her feet left the desk and her eyes were shut tight. “Please don’t...”

His hands came together and he rose from the desk. “Child, you’re going to give yourself an apoplexy at this rate.”

“Please don’t! Please, put me down!”

She felt him move, walking away from the desk and her mind began to conjure all sorts of horrific things he was going to do to her. “Please...” She felt the tears dribble down her chin and she couldn’t hear what he was saying anymore. She couldn’t hear anything beyond the panicked fluttering of her own heart. Something brushed up against the back of her knees and she jerked her feet away only to have the demon set her down. She opened her eyes more out of worry than curiosity and as his hands pulled away, she was left sitting on the mantel. She could feel the warmth of the fire below her feet.

She looked around bewildered and then looked to the demon, questioning.  

“Unless you’ve somehow forgotten,” he said with a light laugh, leaning in just a bit to whisper in a teasing tone, “I’ve already had you for my dinner, Pet. And though a second helping sounds delightful, I’m far more interested sampling your thoughts than your taste right now.”

“My thoughts?” she asked warily. “About...about what?”

“Anything really. A conversation with a living human? It’s never been done and if it ever has, it was a short one of not much interest. It’s quite challenging to hold a conversation if your partner is abjectly terrified of you. So boring.”

“So...that’s why you brought me here?” she asked, not quite understanding his meaning. “To just...talk?”

He nodded. “That’s right.”

“...about what?”

“Well, before we get into specific subjects, let me introduce myself properly,” He said as he reached out to pluck her left hand from her side and deftly held he between two fingers. Unsure of his intentions or what he was doing, Erin stiffened and waited. But to her surprise, he gave her a small bow, his horned head dipping down with the movement. “My name is Magnus,” he said and then straightened. “At your service.”

She stared at him for a moment, unsure how to feel about him bowing to her. But in the spirit of equal exchange, she gave a small awkward bow back and said, “My name is Erin.”

His smile seemed genuine enough. “Tell me, Erin; When you woke up, how did you feel? When compared to the first time, I mean. Post feeding.”

“Not as bad. Just really sleepy and...and hungry. The first time was awful.”

“Yes,” Magnis admitted sheepishly. “In hindsight, we should have taken...certain things into consideration. We were a little too enthusiastic. This time, however, I wanted to know where the lines are. How much of you to drain. To find the line where I get what I need from you, but you do not spend the next two days too poorly to even move. So I took much less this time.”

“Oh. So, was...was it enough?” she asked. It would be nice to know that she could wake up and not feel as though she had been binge drinking. “To..like, make you...full?”

“No, not hardly,” he said with a heavy sigh of disappointment and the quickly put his hands up when he saw her face, “But before your little brain starts sending out those panic signals, know that I anticipated this. I made sure to eat before coming to you. Hence why I was so late. Ghouls are plentiful, but they can be tricky to catch and not nearly so appetizing as you humans.”

The morbid part of her mind reared up and she asked, “We really taste that good to you guys?”

Magnus placed his elbow on the mantel and regarded her with a lazy smile, purple eyes flashing for a moment. “Enough to wait 78 years and spend 400,000 gilders each just for the chance to sample one of you.”

“How much is that?”

“A very substantial amount,” Magnus replied and licked his lips. “And you were worth every bit.”

She frowned as she eyed him, leaning away and he laughed at her. “You’re far too easy to tease,” he said and patted his stomach. “Don’t fret so much, I am perfectly content. You’re safe from my belly for now, Erin.”

Though he meant it as a tease, Erin felt the weight of the words and could help but shrinking down a bit. Another reminder that she and every other human there were just food.

“You have such sad eyes,” Magnus said abruptly, his voice low.  A single clawed digit held her chin when she would have turned away from him. Her dark hazel eyes were studied by his large dull purple ones. “I’ve never seen eyes like yours.”

“...my eyes?”

“Two different colors...”

“Actually its very common in humans,” she said. “And it’s hard to be happy knowing you’re always gonna be someone’s dinner regardless of your feelings.”

“Why does that upset you so? Even knowing you will be perfectly fine later.”

“Because it means I’m not a person anymore. Just... just your food.”

He tilted his head and crossed his arms, a small pitying smile on his lips. “And just who’s to say that you can’t you be both?”

She blinked at him, and furrowed her brows in confusion. Was he mocking her? “What?” she asked him. “Both?”

“Yes. Why can you not be both a person and food? I wasn’t aware they were mutually exclusive.”

She gaped incredulously at him, the notion that he may just be an idiot entered her mind. “Because food...food doesn’t have feelings or rights or protections!”

He seemed to consider this for a moment and said, “Well, on the matter of rights, that is true. You’re regulated to whatever we allow, but the other two in my experience thus far seem to still hold true.”

She glowered at him.“… are you’re just trying to confuse me?”

He regarded her with a patient and indulgent smile. “No, little one, I am trying to expand your mind and allow you the chance to think beyond what nature has programmed into your prey minded intuitions. Because no matter how many times I may tell you that I will not harm you, your prey-drive kicks in and you panic when you are in my mouth. Thinking that you are going to die despite all the empirical evidence that says otherwise.” He smirked “And the way you’ve been flailing about today and weeping like an injured Impling, I can attest to the truth that you do in fact have feelings. Too many for your own well being, if I am honest. And as for protection. Well, how many other foods can you name that survive their own ingestion?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but he spoke over her to add, “...and your friends do not count.”

She didn’t have an answer, but he seemed to expect one or at least for her to respond. So meekly, she admitted, “None.”

“None!” He said in triumph. “Do you understand my point yet?”

She shrunk down a bit into herself, nervous to admit she was having trouble following him. Magnus sighed in resignation and walked closer to her spot on the mantel, cupping both hands around her. His face was very close to her now and she was very aware at how easily he could take his ‘second helping’. “Erin, you are still you. Even we here do not have so great a power as to strip that from you. Humans are rare and priceless and so much attention and energy and notice is spent solely upon your taste and value as a delicacy. The rarest to be had. A status symbol for those lucky few able to afford such a meal.”

His words made her feel ill and she turned her back to him and ducked into the shadow of his hands as though to hide herself inside. He continued to talk to her. “And we here are luckier still that we are able to enjoy that exquisite flavor over and over without further investment of time or funds. So, beyond all that, I want to know what else there is. Beyond humans as mere morsels to salivate over. You have an intelligence and consciousness about which I am deeply curious.” He used the meaty side of his finger to tap her on the head. “What is going on in that little head there?”

And then he stuck out his tongue and licked her.

She squealed, freezing up completely and shuddered as the hot and slimy muscle climbed her back and shoulders in a quick swipe. She arched away from him and whined in equal parts alarm and disgust and when she turned to him, red faced and quivering, she was met with a very smug and impish grin. He was far too pleased with himself and chuckled at her flustered response. “The extra tastings are just a bonus.”

She stared at him, her insides twisting with so many different emotions and they battled it out on her face as she tried to decide if she was scared or disgusted or offended or…

He laughed as he stepped away from the mantel, one eye closing in a cheeky wink. “See? Did I not say you have too many feelings for your own well being?”

Her face felt hot and in that moment, she decided she really wanted to be mad. “DON’T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN!”

His lips pulled back into that smug grin, violet eyes glowing. “I try not to make promises that I have no intention of keeping.”

“YOU ARE SO GROSS!”

He hummed, licking his lips and in his velvety voice said, “And you are so very tasty.”

“Augh!” She cried, worming around in her own shirt, the damp saliva clinging to her back and her shoulders. She could feel a drop of it rolling down and it made her quiver in disgust. “Gross, gross, gross. Oh god, I feel so gross...”

The demon seemed to take pity on her and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, rolling his eyes.  

“Here, you whiny little thing,” he said and began to wipe his drool from her back and shoulders. “If you react so fiercely to a small tasting like that, it’s probably very lucky you’re unconscious when I bring you back up after feeding. There is much more...wet.”

“You’re gross!” she barked at him.