#belle x beetlejuice

[twisting-echo]

Romantic moodboard of Belle (B&TB 2017) x Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice Beetlejuice) {BeetleBelle/BeetleRose/BookBeetle} with the themes of Day 7: Asphodel (Death, the underworld; "My regrets follow you to the grave," remembered beyond the tomb).

For: Beauty and the Beast Week 2024. Title: Beauty and the Beetle. Chapters: 1/1. Day 7 (Free day): Asphodel (Death, the underworld; "My regrets follow you to the grave," remembered beyond the tomb...) Ship: Belle (Disney)/Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice). Characters: Belle, and Bookseller (B&TB/B&TB 2017). Beetlejuice, Miss Argentina, Harry the Hunter, and Pince Vince (Beetlejuice Movies/Cartoon 1989). Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings. Additional Tags: Implied/Reference Suicide, Crossover Pairings, Crack Relationships, Fluff and Humor. Tag: @beauty-beast-week @crosspunzel

[onceupona-crossover]

Beetlerose (Beetlejuice x Princess Belle) moodboard because in beetlejuice beetlejuice he has the beast Voice actor in Spain

Requested by:n/a

-Mod rapunzel

[xenith-eats-stars]

what X-Men 97 characters would wear as Halloween costumes bc it’s spooky season and im silly!!!

Scott Summers - loser probably wears a matching costume with Jean… they’d be Jack and Sally from nightmare before christmas (bc jean and sally r both redheads… idk…)

Jean Grey - see above, but if she decides to choose her own costume she would prob choose Winnifred from hocus pocus bc she wants to do her hair in a fun way

Logan Howlett - BOOOORINGGGGG bro probably doesn’t even dress up 😒 if he’s forced to dress up he just rips up an old shirt and a pair of jeans and says he’s a werewolf

Jubilee - YAY MY GIRLIE!!! smthn tells me she dresses like one of her fav video game characters and the costume is like $8,000 cosplay level

Remy Lebeau - his own skeleton he absolutely takes “halloween is the only time a year a girl can dress like a total slut” to the extreeeme!!! 😍😍 prob some kind of sailor since those are the sluttiest men’s costumes out there

Rogue - my southerner side is telling me she’d play into her whole southern belle thing and be a cowgirl, but my heart tells me she’d dress up as Edward Scissorhands bc she relates to him not rlly being able to experience physical affection :(((

Morph - realistically they could be anything but i’d like to believe they’d dress as the snake from beetlejuice but if it slayed 😭 like they have on this dumb snake suit but have thigh-high stiletto boots and cut-out legs 😭😭

Kurt Wagner - yar-har fiddle-dee-dee bitch he’s 100000% a pirate‼️‼️ side note he prob gets rlly upset about the over-sexualized nun costumes (as he should, they piss me off too)

Ororo Munroe - also prob wouldn’t dress up but she would wear Halloween-ish clothing (think like skull/spider earrings, black clothes, witch motifs)

Magneto - peepaw doesn’t dress up either unfortunately 😞 prob says some shit like “i’m too old for that” or “we should be focusing on bettering the world” like omgggg gramps live a LITTLE 🙄

Roberto - chat he dresses up to match with Jubilee 🥺 if she dresses up as like idk chell from portal he will dress up in all blue and orange to be the portals 😭😭

[just-another-personal-side-blog]

Session 0 - Damian Priest x Tattoo Artist

Part 1 of 6

Rating: T

Beta Reader: @jstarr86

“Trust me Dam, she’s the best at what she does. It doesn’t hurt that I’d trust her with my life. You’ve been going on about finally getting that back piece, there’s no one better.” Rhea practically herded him towards what looked like an absolute hole in the wall, his nerves judged it based on first appearance.

“Most of my art was done by her, I’ve been meaning to introduce Dom as well. You got first dibs of course.” She paused at the door giving him a single raised brow, “You do trust me, don’t you Damian?”

Cornered he let out a sigh, it doesn’t hurt to at least take a look to appease her. 

“Fine, after you.” 

A bell above the door could just barely be heard over the heavy rock that beat like a pulse within the confines of the lobby. Framed detailed tattoo sketches hung upon the walls, behind the front desk were a collection of awards and licenses to prove this place was legit. Folders full of premade basic bitch designs sat on the coffee table by comfortable leather chairs, Rhea pressed a button at the front. No sound could be heard but in a span of seconds a young woman came out from the back.

“How can I- Oh! Shit! Rhea! Hey girl! Why didn’t you give me a heads up that you were coming?” Priest looked up from one of the framed pieces he was admiring. Apparently the new arrival hadn’t noticed him from the angle he was standing, not something he was used to given his size. He took a moment to admire the person before him…

Purple faux hawk with an under-fade, full tattoo sleeves on both arms, legs, and back, several piercings both visible and one not, brilliant blue eyes with some intense metallic goth eye makeup and a stunning smile. A pair of fake leather leggings with lace ups on the outside of the legs, a fishnet crop top under a Beetlejuice tank top, tying it all together was a basic durable black dog collar and a pair of Demonia knee length boots.Unlike the blonde Barbie she was finishing up, Rhea’s friend wasn’t stick skinny. She was probably a good size 9 or 10, there was some plump flesh but it appeared to have some sturdy muscle underneath. A full pair of breasts accentuated beautifully with the fishnet, and hips perfect to dig fingers into.

“I brought a friend that I thought you might like meeting, he’s been talking about wanting a new big tat for awhile now. So I told him there's only one person I’d trust with that.” After a moment the girl turned to look at him, there was immediate recognition as well as shock across her features. It was brief and fleeting before putting up a friendly facade.

It took Rhea slapping on the bicep to smack Damian back present, realizing he’d been staring at the artist long after the gal she’d been working on had left happily. Meaning he had given her an intense resting bitch for a good minute now. Incredibly embarrassed Priest offered a hand which she accepted with an impressive firm hand shake.

“You can call me Minnie, only people I like get to use that.” Rhea playful shoulder checked her with a warm smile,

“It’s short for Minerva, her parents were from Athens originally”

“So your namesake is a Goddess of War, seems fitting.” Bright sky blue eyes flicked up from the sketchbook she’d grabbed to start jotting ideas from him. And without pause blossomed like a Sunflower, taking note of the dimple on her right cheek. 

“Best make sure you never get on my bad side, Rhea has some great stories of me chasing off her exes prior to Wrestling. I’m only five years older than her, not to mention like 5 inches shorter even without those elevator shoes she stomps around in.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed that at all. Both of you still don’t have me beat.”

“Well you clearly discovered immortality in high school, because you haven't aged a bit.”

Rhea perched herself on the spare stool in the room, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes as she watched the two getting comfortable with their back and forth.

“What she neglected to mention is the three times she chased them off with a metal bat wrapped in barbed wire and nails welded to it.”

“Jokes on you, I still sleep with that bat beside my bed. Safety first and all that fun stuff. Safer than a machete, I’d rather not accidentally stab myself in my sleep.”

“That’s why we’re best friends.” The Aussie grins before giving Minnie a cheeky wink.

“Why do I feel like I got led into a trap?” She wrinkled her nose at Damian before opening the sketchbook before her.

“You have nothing to worry about Butterscotch, I take my art very seriously. Now let’s start discussing what you’re looking to get and where. I’ll let you know now, that while I’m sure you’re likely VERY blessed… I don’t do anything where I gotta see dick or vag.”

Priest momentarily choked on his saliva while Rhea guffawed in glee. A quick side eye glare at her smothered the sound to a quiet chuckle. Something about her felt like she was messing with the poor Puerto Rican man, akin to a cat staring directly at their owner while pushing a glass of water off the counter playfully.

“You’ve already got plenty of gorgeous pieces on that flawless flesh. What are you thinking of doing?”

No hesitation he pulled his t-shirt up and over while turning to show the empty expanse of his back. Her breath caught audibly, eyes briefly went wide glancing at Ripley wildly. The female wrestler grinned like the Cheshire Cat, watching each interaction with fascination. Plans coming to fruition.

The tattooer bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to focus on what he was actually saying. Once locked in, Minnie began to sketch up fluidly upon paper, at one point he was leaning over her shoulder admiring the work of a talented creative. Bringing his vision to life on the crisp white paper, each description rumbled like incoming thunder located in the man’s voice box. Thank god for hyperfocus cuz lord only knows this was gonna be a genuine challenge for her self-control. All she wanted to do was trace those tattoos on him with her tongue. She had to shake her head to focus back in again, hands working on autopilot, taking in his words with each glide of charcoal across parchment. 

When he finished describing it she looked back up at him with a friendly smile,

“How big are you thinking of making it? So I know what to prepare for, as well as how many sessions to schedule in advance.” He tilted his head in thought momentarily before answering,

“Ideally I’d like it to cover a majority of my back.” She nodded in agreement,

“Alright, I’ve got the sketch started. I'll email you three different versions and you let me know what you like and what you don’t. And if there's aspects you like in one and want to add it to another one, just let me know. This is your tattoo on your skin, I want you to love it decades from now. How’s that sound?”  Damian was genuinely impressed with her professionalism, even as he controls the strong desire to flirt with her. This was a time to behave, she was Rhea’s best friend, and thus not someone to attempt to make any moves towards. 

“That sounds great to me, thanks.” Her smile was so sweet it could have made him diabetic just looking at it. 

“Great. Oh and Rhea, let me know when you want to come in and do those matching ghost tattoos with Dom.” 

“No rush, he’s busy planning his wedding right now so it’s gonna be a bit.”

“Sounds good to me. Now unfortunately I do have another client coming in twenty minutes so I gotta start prepping.” She pulled a business card from her bra, handing it over to Damian,

“My email and personal number is on there in case you think of something you want to add to the tat.Sound good?” Minnie gave a bashful little smile, and it made something deep in his chest want to say something incredibly forward. Rhea snagged him by the elbow, grinning like a cat that caught the canary. 

A nod of thanks was all he got out before being ushered back out, quicker than able to verbalize his appreciation. Ripley called back loudly,

“Thanks love! I’ll make sure he remembers to check his email regularly.” As if he didn’t already do that for work contacts to begin with. Once back in the car Priest gave his companion a look of utter suspicion, he could tell that she had ulterior motives. Nothing vicious or cruel, but she’d tried to set him up on a couple dates in the past, none that worked out. He’s focused on work, most women didn’t appreciate not being number one in his life. It’s been a string of disappointments, to where he bluntly asked Rhea to stop playing cupid. 

“This better not be an attempt at matchmaking again-” She cut him off with a sigh,

“I’ve long accepted that the ball is in your court from now on. I really truly just wanted you to go to an artist I’d trust my life with. She’s a good one, professional, talented, she spent twenty years as an apprentice before taking on her own clients. To top it off, she’s loyal, fun, and could use more genuine friends other than me. Can you blame me for that?” Her tone of voice was honest, after how much time they’d spent together, he could easily tell when she was bullshitting. Damian nodded to her as a show of acceptance to what she was saying. Her attention locked on the drive back to her place, Buddy was gonna get some sparring practice in with the other man. 

His gaze trailed a spot in the distance, trying to keep that woman out of his thoughts… failing miserably. She had such a lovely face, and all the art on display was impressive to be sure. The name Minerva fit her perfectly, especially with how protective she was of the Australian wrestler. It was endearing how she was barely 5’3 and was ready to take on the world to keep her 5’7 well-muscled friend safe. He hadn’t noticed the small smile that spread across his features, but Ripley sure took note of it. Keeping her features stoic while internally she was so pleased with herself. 

She pulled into the driveway where her man was waiting, he waved as they got out of the car. Buddy smiled at them, 

“I’m guessing it went well? Minnie is great at what she does. Rhea doesn’t like to share her with people, so it’s a hell of a compliment she brought you.” She gave him a quick kiss before heading into the house calling back,

“Play nice boys don’t forget the Terror Twins have some matches coming up.”

Damian shook his head w a huff before following the ginger towards their personal gym. Somehow he still had a sneaking suspicion that Rhea was playing a long game now instead of all the quick fruitless dates in the past… The image of Minerva slid by again, and for once… he might be okay with that.

Tagged:

@superlove167 @midnightlycan @mooshroomii420 @hotwheels1108 @misslackey @gigisview @abadbitchblogs @sexyblacksimper @sweetmoonlove0214 @daithideolishmer118 @tomandbuckyfan1 @terrortwinunicorn @iy-16-18 @sluttysierraaa @jstarr86 @zombiedixon89 @horsekoala @fearlesschimera @eringobragh420 @elainneoneill570 @gretavanhockey @moonwolfdemonprincess21 @sad-dreamer93 @agustd202204 @nubian-queen22 @kaitlinlovetwister @bosslady3168 @gabberzzz1998 @mol2311

[prettyboypistol]

The First Meeting || Keatlejuice x M!Reader Part 1

if your first(and only) ex-girlfriend was to be believed, you were the worst boyfriend ever. You were in a slump when a flittering paper in the wind slapped you in the face. Great, even the world hated you now. You took a look at the advertisement and cringed a little bit.

"Now Introducing: The Ghost with The Most Escort Services! Now accepting male clientele because my bitch of an ex-wife and my most recent attempt at a marriage failed- so yeah, that put me off women for a while. To call, just dial 666-666-6666 and ask for Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!"

That was the weirdest flyer you've ever seen, but it got a kick out of you. What the hell kind of secret code was Beetlejuice supposed to mean, anyway? Was it some drug thing? Whatever. It didn't matter. What did matter was getting your ass to the bar to drink off the breakup that happened not an hour prior.

When you came to the next day, there was a gross, creepy, crusty man sleeping next to you in your bed- with his suit and shoes on mind you! and the night's memories locked behind a pounding hangover.

"Up already, dollface?" The man muttered in his grumbly voice. You jolted out of bed and ignored how your body protested at the sudden movement, adrenaline flooding your system.

"Who the hell are you?!" You shouted- a little too loudly- as you then heard your next-door neighbor slam on the wall to tell you to quiet down.

"I'm your escort, hear to make you scream my name a minimum of three times." The man responded sarcastically as he rolled onto his side and propped his head up against his hand. "Listen boss, I'm not used to doin' the do with dudes, so you'll have to excuse the lack of decorum."

"I- I'm not gonna have sex with you!"

"You seemed to be really excited last night sugarpecs. Beggin' me to get over here and show you the "good stuff"."

Oh god. You called the number.

You probably were drunkenly looking for some weird drugs to try in your stupor.

"I don't want your stupid drugs! What the hell even is Beetlejuice?"

"Say it again." The man responded, deathly quiet as his pupils dialated.

"Beetlejuice?"

His breath caught.

"One more time, baby."

"Ew. Hell no. Get the fuck out of my house!"

As you grabbed the previously-welcome guest by his suit lapels and dragged him towards the door, you realized that it didn't feel like you were dragging another man. You looked at him, then down to his feet. He was FLOATING?!

"What the fuck..?"

"You really didn't read before you called, did you wise guy? Does "Ghost with the Most" ring a bell? Huh? Anythin'?"

"Ugh- kinda? Sorry- I'm too hungover for this... Can you explain things in like, a few hours?"

"I mean sure, after all, I'm countin' on you for something reaaaal special soon enough."

[musical-shit-show]

hi, I love the way you write dewey finn so much!! may I request #18 from prompt list 2 and/or “you are terrible at this.” from prompt list 3 for him please?

close enough to touch

Pairing: Dewey Finn x Reader

Inspiration: #18 (“it’s okay, i couldn’t sleep anyways.”) from Prompt List 2 and #36 (“you are terrible at this.”) from Prompt List 3, requested by anon

Warnings: Awkward flirting, fluff

Word Count: 2,370

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long, anon! I was really struggling with this one but I hope you like it! I’ve been meaning to write some post-School of Rock Dewey, and if people like this I wouldn’t mind doing another teacher!Reader one shot. So please let me know if this is something y’all like in the comments and reblogs! Also, check out my Masterlist, Prompt Lists, and About Me page, and submit an ask! It might take me a little bit longer with some requests but I promise to always make those my priority. I’m also working on my Beetlejuice series (to fill the void of course) so hopefully there will be more chapters of that coming soon. Thanks to everyone who’s supported my writing so far and enjoy!

“Don’t look now, but he’s staring at you again.”

“Who?”

“The music tutor.”

You decided to not look up from your coffee mug, the creamer you had just poured swirling slowly. It was the end of your second week at Horace Green, and Mrs. White had quickly taken you under her wing.

The teacher’s lounge was buzzing with activity, since the second Friday of every month meant free pastries from the local artisanal bakery. Apparently incentivizing the molders of young minds with sugar and fat never failed.

You placed an almond croissant on your plate, trying your best to stay discreet, “What’s his name again? Danny?”

Mrs. White laughed lightly, “Dewey,” she said with the smallest hint of disdain, “He’s the one I was telling you about last week. The one who impersonated a substitute last semester.”

Your jaw fell open slightly, and you decided to get another look of this guy. Turning from the spread of baked goods, your eyes wandered over to the other side of the room, where you saw the culprit averting his gaze from your direction.

He was, in a word, unkempt. His clothes were mismatched and ill-fitting; the button-down shirt hiding under his loud sweater vest was about half a size too large, and his dark jeans looked half a size too small. Most of the male teachers at Horace Green typically wore sport jackets and khakis, or at least a tie. Clearly Dewey didn’t get the memo.

His hair was also rumpled, dark brown and wavy and spurting in all different directions. You guessed he had rolled out of bed without running a brush through that mess, let alone even looked in the mirror.

You also noticed a significant amount of stubble growing on his round face, finishing off the whole scruffy vibe he had clearly committed to. He was almost…cute. His eyes were the same color as your coffee, deep brown with a touch of lightness.

“Not to state the obvious, but isn’t that a crime?” you murmured, trying to be discreet as you gossiped with your co-worker.

She answered with an eyeroll. “Of course it is,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. She took it black, two sugars. “But Rosalie—Ms. Mullins—decided to not press charges and hired him instead. Caused quite an uproar, but the students love him, so…”

You peered at him again curiously. Dewey was had just finished scribbling something in his notebook, breathing a heavy sigh as he slouched back into the plastic chair.

“I wouldn’t get involved if I were you,” Mrs. White warned, clearly noticing your interest in him, “From what I’ve heard, he’s nothing but trouble.”

You nodded. “Believe me,” you lied, “I know when to stay away.”

~oOo~

A sigh of relief left your chest the second the final bell rang at 3:15 that day. Teaching 10 and 11-year-olds how to structure essays all day really drained you, no matter how polite and well-behaved they were.

You gathered your belongings quickly and were walking briskly to your car when you heard your name being called behind you. You turned to see Dewey, and you couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows. He was carrying what looked like stacks of sheet music.

One misstep and he’d be picking up papers until sundown. 

“Uh, hi,” he said as he caught up to you, the cold January air making his breath visible. He attempted to extend his arm for a handshake, but retracted when the heaps of music in his one arm began to falter. “I’m uh, I’m Dewey. Or ‘Mr. Finn’ as the kids say, but you can call me Dewey.”

Looking at him more closely, you decided he was even cuter than you first thought. With Mrs. White’s warning ringing in your ear, a part of you wanted to turn the other way, tell him you were in a hurry to get home, make up some excuse to not get involved.

But it was clear he was interested in you, and you’d be lying if you weren’t at least a little intrigued. And besides, it’d be rude to not at least introduce yourself, right?

“Hi, Dewey,” you parroted, giving him another once over. “I see you already know my name.” He was already flushed from the cold, but his cheeks turned a darker shade of pink.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Right, well, I got it from the staff directory. Just…wanted to introduce myself. I teach the kids music after school most days.”

“I know who you are,” the statement came out colder than you intended, “I did see you this morning, do you make a habit of hanging out in the teacher’s lounge?”

He gulped. “No,” he answered, “No, I just…I had a meeting with Rosalie this morning about the spring concert.”

Pure enough excuse. However, Mrs. White had also let it slip that he and Ms. Mullins apparently had a fling a few months prior, which only intrigued you more. What was so special about this guy that he could avoid a criminal trial for identity theft and date his boss in one fell swoop?

“I see,” you said coyly, trying to scrutinize him without being too obvious, “And are you and Rosalie…close?” If Dewey’s face was pink before, it had now turned to an embarrassing shade of scarlet.

“Oh, um, no,” he said, clearly flustered. “Nope. She’s a great…lady. And really cares about the kids. But…no. Not very close.” You nodded, completely unconvinced. You didn’t want to believe the gossip, but with a response like that, how could you not at least consider that it could be true?

Dewey shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his grip tightening on the sheet music. “We kissed,” he blurted, exhaling heavily, “Like, twice. She’s great but…I’m single. Very single.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his honesty. It was oddly refreshing. “Should I be taking that as some kind of hint?” you flirted, smiling softly. You couldn’t care less that your nose and fingertips were growing red from the cold.

“Only if you want,” he said, a shy smile dancing on his lips. Panic overtook his features only seconds later. “I mean, shit, not to be too forward or anything—”

“You know, you are terrible at this,” you said, cutting him off. Dewey flashed an embarrassed grin, letting out another breathy laugh, “How about I just give you my number and we just go from there?”

The two of you quickly exchanged digits and walked to your respective cars separately, unknowingly sharing excited smiles that lasted all the way home.

~oOo~

A few weeks later, you found yourself sticking up flyers for the School of Rock’s annual midwinter concert after the final bell had rung. Dewey had somehow roped you into posting the brightly colored papers on every corkboard, chalkboard, and section of blank wall space in the school.

“I thought you’d be headed home by now,” you heard Mrs. White call from down the hall. You jumped slightly, the haughty timbre in her voice surprising you.

Plastering on your most innocent smile, you turned to face your colleague. “I will be soon,” your voice was dripping with saccharine sweetness, “Just hanging these flyers and then I’m home free.”

She quirked an eyebrow, “Any big weekend plans?” You shook your head, turning back to the wall where you stuck up another flyer. You hoped she would just walk past and be none the wiser.

Mrs. White approached you, skeptical. You were friends, sure, but she was old enough and smart enough to know when someone was hiding something.

And unfortunately for you, as soon as she caught a glimpse of exactly which flyers you were hanging up, it all clicked.

“I thought I made it very clear that Mr. Finn was nothing but trouble,” she said, sounding eerily like a disapproving mother. Despite your heartrate increasing rapidly, you remained calm.

An incredulous scoff left your lips as you placed your free hand on your chest, “Mrs. White,” she rolled her eyes at you using her surname, “I was simply assisting another educator in promoting a fundraiser for this school that seeks to promote the arts and enrich our students’ lives.”

“Did you rehearse that?”

“A little. But I mean it, Mr. Finn has been nothing but professional. We’ve barely even spoken outside of planning the concert.”

That was a lie, of course. The truth was, ever since you and Dewey had exchanged information, you had texted and called and even met up a few times outside of school. Of course, they couldn’t exactly be called dates—at least that’s what you told yourself.

He seemed nervous around you at first, sure, but as soon as you got to know him, that faded away and you were left with a carefree, albeit scatterbrained work buddy. And despite the occasional flirt, it was clear that he wasn’t as interested in you as you first thought.

Which only crushed you the tiniest bit.

Mrs. White glanced at the colorful flyer again, her eyes narrowing suspiciously, “Well, of course I’ll be there to support our students’ artistic endeavors,” she said, a small smirk on her lips, “But don’t think I still don’t have my eye on you.”

You could tell she wasn’t being completely serious, but a small shiver of fear still wracked your spine as she walked towards the exit, the click clack of her pumps echoing on the linoleum tile.

You called goodbye sweetly, playing your role as nothing more than a helpful new teacher who was just excited about music education. Stapling up the last piece of paper onto a mostly bare bulletin board, you couldn’t help but overhear the noise of excited chatter coming from the music room down the hall.

The door was closed, but you managed to sneak a peek through the tiny window to see Dewey chatting with the bassist, who was about the same size as her as instrument. You felt a grin creeping onto your face.

Dewey’s passion for music came out the most when teaching the kids; even after watching him play a gig at the Roadhouse, you never saw his eyes light up more than when he was in that practice room.

You turned away and took a few steps toward the exit when you heard the door creak open, the chatter growing louder before muffling again. “Are you spying on me or something? You’re already getting into the concert for free, ya know.”

Dewey’s voice was more hoarse than usual, the gruffness making your stomach flip. “Not spying,” you teased, glancing over at the bulletin board, “Just doing your job for you.”

He clutched his heart dramatically, “You wound me,” he smirked, “But seriously, thanks for doing this. Hopefully we can drum up some more buzz.” You waved off his praise.

“No trouble. Consider us even since you had to suffer through listening to me babble on for way too long last night.” You two had made a habit of call each other late at night, which only confused your feelings even further. Your brain couldn’t decide if you were just co-workers, friends, or something more.

Apparently, Dewey couldn’t decide either.

“It’s okay,” he replied, running a hand through his messy waves, “I couldn’t sleep anyways.” He bared a toothy smile, wiping his palms on his dark jeans. His casual remark was innocent enough but still found a way to make your heart ache.

You decided the best course of action was to turn the attention away from yourself. “Well, I’m sure you won’t have any trouble with attendance,” you said, referencing the brightly colored flyer again, “From what I hear your kids are incredible.”

He beamed like a proud parent. “Yeah, yeah they are,” he said, “And thank you for spreading the word. Some teachers around here still aren’t too keen on me, after, well…everything.”

You felt yourself frown, your mind flashing to Mrs. White’s warnings. From what you could see, everyone had misjudged Dewey. He was kind, passionate, albeit far less put together than the other Horace Green staff, but he loved teaching and he loved those kids.

Wasn’t that enough to take a chance on?

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence, “What are you doing tonight?”

“Well, I did have big plans with my couch and a shitty movie, but—”

“You and me. Tonight. Roadhouse.”

“Okay?” he laughed, taken aback by your abruptness.

“And this is a real date, Finn,” you added. “No take backs.” A look of panic flashed across his face, and for a split second you wondered if you had made a terrible miscalculation. But how could you not take matters into your own hands after his weeks of mixed signals?

Before you could open your mouth to apologize profusely for stepping way over that friendship line, Dewey grabbed your arm lightly, pulling the two of you around the corner and away from the only occupied classroom on a Friday afternoon.

And he kissed you.

Softly at first, so gently that you felt yourself melting into the cold painted cinderblock wall as he grabbed your waist. Prep schools weren’t designed to be the most romantic of places, but perhaps that was for the best.

Nevertheless, you let your eyes flutter shut as your lips molded to Dewey’s, your breath hitching in your throat.  After a few seconds he pulled away, a shocked look on his face that surely mirrored yours.

“Sorry,” he muttered, a smirk creeping its way onto his mouth, “Surprised myself with that little stunt, huh?” You nodded as he peeled himself away from you. You instinctively checked your surroundings, but you were alone.

“Dewey, are you insane—”

You wanted to be angry with him for risking both of your jobs, but the fluttering in your heart was overwhelming. One thing was for certain, there was no mistaking that signal.

“I just, I couldn’t wait until tonight,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “But yes. I’ll see you tonight. No take backs.”

You smiled as he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, and watched as he happily sprinted back to his students.

*****

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

read part 2 here!

[darlingdespairstims]

My Fictional CG list

Marvel -

Storm / ororo munroe

Wolverine / James "Logan" Howlett

Cyclops / Scott Summers

Rouge / Anna Marie

Gambit / Remy Lebeau

Professor X / Charles Xavier

Magneto / Erik lehnsherr

Deadpool / Wade Wilson

Yukio

Spiderman / Peter Parker

Spider-Man 2099 / miguel o'hara

Starfire

Mystique / Raven Darkhölme

Jean grey

DC -

Batman / Bruce Wayne

Harley Quinn / Harleen Quinzel

Poison ivy / Pamela Isley

Bat girl / Barbara Gordon

Twisted wonderland -

Leona Kingscolar

Lilia Vanrouge

Azul Ashengrotto

Jamil viper

Divus crewel

Malleus draconia

vil schoenheit

Baldur's gate 3 -

Karlach

Astarion

Halsin

Minthara

Gale

Shadowheart

Creepypasta -

Jane the killer

Eyeless jack

Jeff the killer

Homicidal Liu

Ticci toby

Ben drowned

Clockwork

Nina the killer

Monster high -

Clawdeen wolf

Venus mcflytrap

Twyla boogieman

Spectra Vondergeist

Lagoona blue

scarah screams

Sirena Von Boo

Robecca Steam

Operetta

Jinafire Long

Catty Noir

Mystic messenger -

ZEN / Hyun Ryu

V / Jihyun Kim

Jaehee Kang

Jumin Han

Identity V -

The photographer / Joseph desaulniers

The violinist / Antonio

The prospector / Norton campbell

The mercenary / Naib Subedar

The Professor / Luchino Diruse

Weeping clown / Joker

The novelist / Orpheus

The Batter / Ganji Gupta

Bloody queen / Mary

"Prisoner" / Luca Balsa

Call of duty -

Valeria Garza

Kate Laswell

König

Simon "Ghost" Reily

Obey me! Shall we date? -

Lucifer

Belphegor

Diavolo

Leviathan

Genshin Impact -

Kaeya Alberich

Diluc Ragnvindr

Amber

Jean

Lisa

Venti

Zhongli

Neuvillete

Wriothesley

Alhaitham

Baizhu

Kaveh

Ningguang

Beidou

Candace

Dehya

Yae Miko

Arlecchino

Black butler -

Grell Sutcliff

Ciel phantomhive

Sebastian Michaelis

Alois Trancy

Sonic the hedgehog -

Rouge the bat

Amy rose

Blaze the cat

My little pony -

Princess Luna

Princess celestia

Fluttershy

Lyra heartstring

Queen chrysalis

Princess Cadance

Octavia Melody

Mrs. Cup Cake

Sugar belle

Rarity

Steven universe -

Garnet

Pearl

Sapphire

Blue Diamond

Mouthwashing -

Curly

Anya

Daisuke

Star vs the forces of evil -

Star

Jackie

Eclipsa

Ever after high -

Madeline Hatter

Briar Beauty

Raven Queen

Blondie Lockes

Ashlynn Ella

Cerise Hood

Arcane -

Vi

Jinx

Mel

Miscellaneous characters -

Sally face / sal fisher

Steven Stoughton (strangled red)

The huntress (dead by daylight)

Aren Kuboyasu (Saiki K)

Kenny McCormick (South park)

Kyle Broflovski (South park)

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy {sorta}

Paracelsus (guilty gear)

Testament (guilty gear)

Zane ro'meave (Aphmau)

Aaron Lycan (Aphmau)

Daphne Blake (Scooby Doo)

Gallagher (Honkai : star rail)

Boothill (Honkai : star rail)

Howl (howls moving castle)

Wednesday Adams

Lydia Deetz (Beetlejuice)

Barbra Maitland (Beetlejuice)

Lady dimitrescu (residents evil)

The end..! (≡^∇^≡)

[agerefandom]

Agerefandom 2022 Masterpost

This is a belated collection of my content from 2022! If you’re interested, here are the previous years: 2021 and 2020! 

In 2020, I wrote eighteen fics: In 2021, I wrote twenty-two. In 2022, I only wrote five full fanfictions, but that’s probably because I was writing so many more headcanons this year! Here are the fanfictions I wrote last year: 

Angels At The Window (Hazbin Hotel, caregivers!Charlie and Vaggie, regressor!Reader) As Sleeping Amber  (Phantom of the Opera, regressor!Erik, caregiver!Christine)  Flourishing In Sunlight  (Avatar: The Last Airbender, postcanon, regressor!Katara, careiver!Zuko)  Fancy Tuna and Frantic Texts  (Ouran High School Host Club, regressor!Haruhi, caregivers!Tamaki and Kyoya)  Natasha Is Young (Great Comet of 1812, regressor!Natasha, caregiver!Helene)

In 2020, I wrote thirty-two headcanon posts! In 2021, that went down to nineteen, but in 2022 I wrote forty-three headcanon sets! 

regressor!Gary King (World’s End)  caregiver!Jareth (Labyrinth)  regressor!Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel)  flip!Sans (Horrortale)  regressor!Adam/creature (Frankenstein)  caregiverse!Sundrop and Moondrop (FNAF Security Breach)  regressor!Brahms Heelshire (The Boy)  regressor!Severus Snape (Harry Potter) caregiver!Pennywise (It)  caregvier!Annabelle Crane (Magnus Archives)  regressor!Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice musical) regressor!Jade Harley (Homestuck) caregiver!V (V for Vendetta)  caregiver!Val Frizzle (Magic School Bus)  regressor!Stanley Pines (Gravity Falls)  caregiver!Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)  caregiver!Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)  caregiver!13th Doctor (Doctor Who)  regressors!Anna and Elsa (Frozen)  regressor!Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)  caregiver!Count Dooku (Star Wars)  caregiver!Caleb Widogast (Critical Role)  caregivers!Ruby and Sapphire (Steven Universe)  regressor!Dana Scully (X-Files)  regressor!Victor Frankenstein (Frankenstein)  regressor!Stevonnie (Steven Universe)  caregiver!Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars)  regressor!Sam Winchester (Supernatural)  regressor!10th Doctor with caregiver!Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)  regressor!Eleven (Stranger Things)  regressor!Bea and caregiver!Mae (Night In The Woods)  regressor!Monika (Doki Doki Literature Club)  regressor!Yuri (Doki Doki Literature Club)  regressor!Sayori (Doki Doki Literature Club)  regressor!Natsuki (Doki Doki Literature Club) 

Disney Caregivers Gaston (Beauty and the Beast)  Belle (Beauty and the Beast)  Snow White (Snow White and the Seven Dwarves)  Bruno (Encanto)  Tiana and Naveen (Princess and the Frog)  Oogie Boogie (Nightmare Before Christmas)  Ariel (The Little Mermaid)  Captain Amelia (Treasure Planet) 

Under the ‘keep reading’ I’ve collected links to my thirteen favourite moodboards from the seventy-three I made in 2023, and some of my favourite art and edits as well! 

Favourite Moodboards: 

caregiver!V 

regressor!Will Graham

regressor!Dipper Pines

regressor!Erik/Phantom

regressor!Peter Parker

regressor!Kylo Ren

caregiver!Count Dooku

regressor!Charles Xavier

regressor!Cal Strider

caregiver!Bakugou 

regressor!Shigaraki 

regressor!Noah Czerny 

caregiver!Jasper Cullen

Favourite Art/Edits: 

Tokoyami and Dark Shadow

regressor!Jade Harley

regressor!Angel and regressor!Charlie edits

regressor!Himiko Toga

regressors!Mae and Gregg

regressor!Ashton and cg!FCG

regressor!Bruno Madrigal

[mischiefxmuses]

Post event starter call

going to drop everything pre event because soooooo many muses have changed status and other muses have changed status so just makes it easier. Fresh slate!! I will keep some event threads going or we can transition them to post event! I'll hop into DMs about transitioning. Please spread out the love between my muses and specify which muse you want the starter for!!

Angel - Unaware - Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1/5) - Faith Bee - Aware - Helluva Boss (0/5) Belle - Aware - Beauty & the Beast (0/5) Ben Skywalker - Aware - Star Wars (0/5) Charles Xavier - Aware - X-Men/Marvel (3/5) - Jean, Doom, Diana Charlotte Emily - Aware - FNAF (1/5) - Elizabeth Cordelia Goode - Aware - AHS: Coven (1/5) - Cora Cullen Rutherford - Aware - Dragon Age (1/5) - Rosita Dream - Aware - The Sandman (2/5) - Clarke, Katherine Francesca Bishop - Aware - TVD (1/5) - Mason Harwin Strong - Aware - HOTD (1/5) - Rhaena Henry Creel - Aware - Stranger Things (2/5) - Rose, Chrissy Hera Syndulla - Aware - Star Wars (1/5) - Apollo Hunter - Unaware - Star Wars (0/5) Iorveth - Unaware - The Witcher (0/5) Kida - Aware - Atlantis (0/5) Loki - Aware - Marvel (1/5) - Nat Lyanna Stark - Aware - GOT (1/5) - Robb Nimona - Aware - Nimona (2/5) - Faye, Ballister Percy De Rolo - Aware - Critical Role (1/5) - Mia Peter Hale - Unaware - Teen Wolf (1/5) - Derek Sanji Vinsmoke - Unaware - One Piece (1/5) - Zoro Satine Krzye - Aware - Star Wars (1/5) - Mon Shanks - Unaware - One Piece (1/5) - Alice Silco - Aware - Arcane (0/5) Sion Val Palpatine - Unaware - Star Wars (0/5) Yennefer of Vengerberg - Aware - The Witcher (0/5) Zash Baen - Aware - Star Wars (2/5) - Aerith, Myri Zuko - Unaware - Avatar The Last Airbender (2/5) - Beetlejuice, Toph Ruby - Aware - Fear Streat (1/5) - Sidney

[hoodoo12]

(De)Flower

@batxmasisrjuice ,who is a delightful person all around and I wish we lived closer so we could hang out, made a generous donation to Mr Alex Brightman for the Arthritis Foundation's Jingle Bell Run. She gets a story! You could too if you want; you have today to make a donation! Dm me the receipt and I'll write one for you. It can be personalized, it can be any character, it can be private (like others have asked for), it can be whatever! Just support a good cause!

NSFW, Beetlejuice x f!reader, losin' that virginity!

The constant barrage of innuendos, suggestions, and cartoon noises like honking or that stupid “A-OOOOga” sound first made you embarrassed. Then they were annoying. Then, one time when he surprised you with a particularly well timed hip thrust at something innocuous, you laughed. Your laughter startled him, but he couldn’t help grinning like the cat that got the cream. The breakthrough laughter made all of Beetlejuice’s poor attempts at flirting and seduction much more bearable. You even started calling his cheesy one liners “bad pick up lines”, which of course only encouraged him. By the time you felt comfortable enough with all of it to shoot back a “that’s what she said” after he said something completely normal, the two of you fell over each other laughing at the stupidity of it all. 

Then one night while you were simultaneously watching TV and your phone, the specter wandered in from the kitchen--you didn’t have the energy to wonder what he was doing in there--and out of the blue he said, “Hey babe. My crotch has been feeling extra dead lately. Wanna do some mouth to mouth on it?” “Okay. Sure.” Your response surprised him. You too, honestly, because you actually weren’t kidding.

“Ha ha,” Beetlejuice said, literally enunciating the fake laughter. “You got me.”

“No,” you replied, because for the first time the idea didn’t disgust you but actually aroused you a little, “I’m not.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. “Ha ha,” Beetlejuice repeated, although this time it was strained. You cocked an eyebrow at him, a smile beginning to lift the corners of your lips. “Ha ha.” Now the two syllables had a touch of hysteria in them. “Beetlejuice,” you said, shifting on the couch to make room for him and to squeeze your thighs together, “come here. Sit down with me.” “Oh. Uh . . . geeze. I don’t know, babe, I, uh, got a . . . cake in the oven? A-and--” he stuttered, looking over his shoulder like looking for an escape route. 

“You do have some cake. I think I’d like a bite.” Pointedly you dropped your gaze to his middle, even if his ass wasn’t in view at this particular moment. 

Beetlejuice stared blankly at you for a moment, before a grin crept over his face. It wasn’t hungry or smug. In fact, you’d call it almost shy. The unexpectedness of him looking a little soft made your arousal flare a little; you patted the cushion beside you in invitation again. This time he walked forward as if his knees were locked, almost stumbling a little. “Bet your legs aren’t the only thing that’s stiff,” you said, and this time he couldn’t even choke out his ridiculous laugh. Finally standing in front of you, you reached up and fiddled with the row of buttons under his tie while you looked up at him. His chest rose and fell exactly as if he could breathe, like he was turned on too. His tongue, startling pink against the pallor of his lips, ran over them before disappearing again as he stared at your hands. A thought you’d only entertained to yourself, deep in the night, broke through the surface of your mind: “Would his mouth taste of wormwood?”

Without warning, you stood up. He didn’t step back to give you room, so you pressed solidly against the front of him. Your fingers slipped through the placket of his shirt and lightly rested against his skin. Now face to face, lips inches apart, you had the overwhelming urge to lick your own lips. “Babe, h-hey now--” He stuttered out your name. It was rare he used it, and that only made you want him more. “Yes?” you purred as you tilted your head for a better angle. “I, uh, uh, I--” His sentence never even had a chance to finish. You pressed your mouth against his and he lost capacity for speech. Truthfully, so did you.

It was awkward and fumbling, as first kisses tended to be. Beetlejuice didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands and it took him a moment to finally rest them on your hips, while your grip tightened in the fabric of his shirt. Your tongue slipped passed the seal of his lips and he groaned; everything escalated.

You pushed against him. He pushed against you. His tongue followed your lead and shoved into your mouth so quickly you had to take a breath, but once you were used to the invading feeling of it you returned the favor. It felt like more hands held your waist, and now there was one at the nape of your neck? A thin whining filled the air; it took you several moments to realize it came from him. Breathlessly, sightlessly, you worked the small chipped buttons of his shirt, trying to open it. Suddenly you were too hot. Your clothing was constricting, so you could only imagine how Beetlejuice’s trousers felt! You chuckled at your own thought as you finished all but the top button, under his tie. Your hands less occupied, you took his waist and physically spun him on his heel before pushing him down to the vacated couch. Not expecting that move, Beetlejuice dropped flat on his back. You pounced, straddling his legs. His jacket and shirt now open--although the striped shirt was still tethered at his neck and pinned in place by his suspenders--showcasing the pale expanse of his belly, you drew two fingers down it. Amusingly, the sparse hair scattered on him seemed to have taken on a pinkish hue. You giggled. Reaching the button on his pants, you made swift work of it before pausing to finally rid yourself of your shirt. And then bra, because those sucked in the best of times. Below you, Beetlejuice’s eyes comically widened to a bulge and once again, he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. They remained at his sides, trembling. “Oh come on. I know you’ve spied on me in the shower,” you chided, pushing your tits together to create cleavage. His mouth agape and his eyes glued to your nipples, he gave a ghost of a nod. Leaning forward over him, you dipped lower as if to kiss him again. Your lips close to his, you whispered, “You’re drooling.” Then you sat back up. Beetlejuice swiped his jacketed forearm over his lower face, never once taking his eyes off you. You weren’t even sure if he’d blinked recently. His zipper caught, so you had to look down to undo it the rest of the way. It came as no surprise to you that he wore nothing under his striped pants. Unkempt and decidedly mossy green, his pubic hair cushioned his erection. A dark spot in the fabric of his trousers showed where pre-come had been absorbed, but a new bead formed at the head while you watched. You realized the specter under you stopped making any noise. Glancing back up at his face, you were surprised to see that his eyes were closed and he was biting his lip so hard you’d have expected to see blood welling around his teeth. If he wasn’t, you know. Dead.

“Beej?” you asked quietly. 

He shook his head. “You okay?” He nodded, shook his head, and shrugged in the epitome of a non-answer.

“Beej . . .” Now unsure of what the heck was happening, you stopped. “I want you!” he blurted. “Oh god, I fucking want you so bad! But, but--” Your eyebrows raised while you gently stroked his stomach, you couldn’t wait to hear what the finale of that broken sentence could be. But ghosts and breathers can’t have sex? That ghosts and breathers make demon babies? That his dick had been chomped off by a shark and what you were seeing was a pricey, high-end Netherworld hologram? 

“--butIdon’tknowwhatI’mdoing,” Beetlejuice slurred. You couldn’t decipher that last part. “What?” He flinched. “I . . . I . . . don’t know what I’m doing.” Confused, you could only repeat, “What?”

He flinched again, and this time curled into himself a little, his eyes squeezed shut so hard wrinkles formed at his temples.. “I don’t know . . . anything. I have a general idea, I’ve seen enough people . . . doing it . . . but I. I just . . .” Hanging his head even more, he whispered, “I’ve never actually. You know. Done it. I . . . I’m a virgin.”

For a second you were stunned silent. A laugh tapped the back of your teeth, but luckily you were able to keep it in check. The way he hunched and his ashamed tone exuded pure embarrassment. As hard as it was to believe, he was telling the truth. “Oh!” you replied, a little too brightly, overcompensating for your surprise. “Oh. I’m sorry! We don’t have to do anything, I shouldn’t have been so aggressive--” Beetlejuice’s eyes shot open. 

“No, no--I want to!” he interrupted, almost desperately. “Please, you turn me on so much, I wanna, oh shit, I wanna do . . . all that! I just don’t know how, exactly, and I’m sorry, I’m so dumb, it’s so stupid--” You’d sort through the Ghost with the Most being a stone-cold virgin later. Right now, if he wanted, you were more than ready to go. It excited you, a little, that for all his blustery dirty talk he was inexperienced and you were going to be the one to pop his cherry. “Stop that,” you ordered, refusing to let him continue to put himself down. “Let’s do this thing.” You dropped your voice to mimic his trademark rasp, to try and get him to laugh. 

Instead, he just looked worried. “Are you sure you want to?” 

“Yes!” “Okay, then . . . how about . . .  I’ll do all the work. You can just lay back and enjoy it.” The worried expression on his face didn’t abate. You vowed to yourself to go slowly, no matter how excited you actually were now that this was happening. 

Standing back up, you shimmied out of your pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Leaning back over the specter who seemed frozen in place on your couch, you kissed him lightly, intending to strip him too. He didn’t seem to understand this was just a quick peck on the lips, however; he surged upward, straining from his core to keep in contact with your mouth. 

Laughing at his eagerness, you pushed him back down. Turning to midsection and legs, you unbuttoned his suspenders, took his waistband, and told him to lift his ass so you could get his pants off. He complied. Tugging the striped fabric down his legs, managing to turn them inside out as you did, you realized in your own eagerness he still had his boots on, stopping the whole process. Silently you wondered if you could just leave him hobbled around the ankles--

Snapping his fingers, everything below his waist disappeared. “You could have done that all along?!” “Uh-huh,” he agreed sheepishly. “But you seemed so determined and-and . . . I liked watching you.” “You’re such a creeper.” “A leopard doesn’t change its spots.” Narrowing your eyes, you only hummed in semi-agreement. At least he admitted he was a creep. His cock had paid attention too, still erect and now drooling over itself. The shine on it matched the shine on Beej’s lower lip. 

His eyes had grown dark in the light from the TV, and his chest rose and fell more quickly again. Tentatively, he reached for you. 

Carefully, you took up position over his thighs again. Now nothing separated you but air. Beetlejuice’s tremble had returned, and you found yourself shaking a little, too. His gaze took you in like a starving man offered a feast. One hand went to your knee, then the other, and his eyes were locked on the juncture of your thighs. “The first time should be something special,” you mused aloud. “Like, soft and easy. Just getting used to it, you know?” You dragged your fingernails down his chest, flicking the loose straps of his suspenders out of the way. You should have stripped him naked, but there was something exciting about just leaving him half-clothed while you were completely nude on top of  him. “I, uh--yeah,” he agreed breathlessly, still staring at your crotch, “but, uh . . . mostly . . .” “Mostly what?” “Mostly I just w-want to . . . fuck.” His voice cracked at the last word. His eyes darted up to yours, and he looked almost embarrassed he’d been so crude. You couldn’t help but laugh; he was nothing but inappropriate at the best of times and now that it was real he couldn’t handle it?

“Okay, you got it, Beetlejuice.”The use of his full name made him shudder deliciously below you. Licking your hand, you ran the spit through your pussy, then repeated it to lube his cock. He jumped and moaned at your touch. The sound didn’t abate as you held him in position so you could sink down onto him. No true foreplay meant a little extra stretch as he entered you, and you moaned too. Instead of dropping directly to the cradle of his pelvis you stroked lightly, up then down, getting a little deeper with each cycle. His hands on your knees tightened until the flesh around each finger was white but you continued until he was seated fully inside you. Panting, you paused. “Can’t say you’re a virgin anymore, Beej. How’s that?” Keening wordlessly with an obvious effort not to move, Beetlejuice could barely crank open his eyes to look at you. “It’s-it’s, oh my god--it’s so . . . fucking . . . good--!” “Uh-huh,” you agreed, and rocked just a little for some of that sweet friction. His eyes widened. “Oh shit, oh my god--that’s--it’s too much, I’m gonna--” Knowing exactly what he meant but being well versed enough that him getting off quickly didn’t mean that funtime was over, you rose up even higher and dropped back down with a little more intent. He keened. You did it again. He began an open-mouthed, undulating moan. You did it again, and again, adding a swift circular motion with your hips just for variety. Unexpectedly the specter under you bucked so hard you were almost unseated; you were suddenly glad he still had his shirt and jacket on as you grabbed them for stability. 

Beetlejuice had been drooling before; now he actively spit whenever he tried to force a word out. He writhed below you. At one point, when you leaned forward to adjust position, he licked your chin. Mistaking it for an attempt to kiss, you tried to return it but his jaw was too loose.

In under two minutes, Beetlejuice squeezed your knees so tightly they ached, arched under your weight, and wailed. 

Pausing, working for breath, you let him have his time during his climax. You did keep moving a little though, because it just felt good. 

When he was finally able to focus his eyes on you again, you smiled down at him. “I’m a fucking loser,” he croaked out, like his throat was dry. “You’re fucking, at least. Let’s hold out judgement on the loser thing.” He hung his head. “I . . . you . . . you didn’t get off. I think? I don’t really know, I couldn’t really tell . . .” “I didn’t.” He flinched, even more ashamed. “Hey. Hey! Listen,” you said. “That’s okay! First time, it’s not uncommon. You’ll get more stamina.” “I think . . .” Beetlejuice paused to consider something. “I think maybe . . .” His voice trailed off. “You think what?” you coaxed. “ . . . I think we should practice a lot more. Build up my stamina, you know?” Lightly you slapped his chest. “Come on, babe. Maybe I’ll need a sec to be able to do it again, but what can I do for you? Get you one of those fancy cinnamon dolce lattes you like so much? Or maybe, just maybe-- He took a moment to wipe around his mouth, as if removing any residual drool.  

“--maybe you’d like to go for a mustache ride?”

There was the Beetlejuice you knew. Shrieking with laughter, you slapped him again and told him you would like one of those fancy cinnamon dolce lattes, thank you very much and then the two of you could talk about additional physical activities. 

fin!

[geekynerfherder]

'Beetlejuice' by Mark Bell.

Officially licensed 24" x 36" offset lithograph print, in a numbered Regular edition of 175 for £39.99; and in a numbered Foil Variant edition of 150 for £49.99. On sale Tuesday February 28 at 6pm UK / 12pm ET through Vice Press and Bottleneck Gallery.

[polyverse-fo-au]

The details of each character are a work in progress, also this list will likely be added to in the future.

Romantic Relationships

🪳👻 • Beetlejuice

Source: Beetlejuice (composite of Series and Film versions)

Status: Married

Morality: Chaotic.

Blood Family: Lucy (Daughter) Jesse (Son)

Interactions With Others: a protective self proclaimed "Alpha Husband", this wild poltergeist tends to try to keep the other love interests in line, and while mostly anything goes with him, he will act clingy at times and often tries to be first priority, going out of his way for attention sometimes. He's also one of the most uninhibited of the group, sometimes to the annoyance of the others.

Blog: @trashygeistinlove

Tag: BJ🪲

🌱🩸 • Audrey Two

Source: Little Shop of Horrors 1989 Movie

Status: Married

Morality: Amoral, True Neutral/Chaotic Neutral

Blood Family: None

Personality: Musically expressive, wise cracking, upbeat, amorous.

Style of Relationship: Feral Mates, Monster x Damsel.

Interactions With Others: Easy going as long as they don't get on his bad side. Sometimes manipulative.

Blog: @mean-n-green

Tag: AudreyTwo🌿

🃏🎭 • Joker

Source: The Batman 2004 Series

Status: Engaged

Morality: Chaotic Evil/Chaotic Neutral

Blood Family: None

Style of Relationship:

Interactions With Others:

Blog: @the-jokester

Tag: Joker2004🃏

⚙🎸 • The Spine

Source: Steam Powered Giraffe

Status: Married

Morality: Optimist, Pacifist

Blood Family: Rabbit, Hatchworth, Zero and The Jon (siblings), Tesla and Edison (Twin sons)

Interactions With Others: Neutral, easily annoyed by the more villainous ones, but generally friendly and makes an effort to get along.

Blog: @starlightsoliton

Tag: Spine⚙

🕸💗 • Angel Dust

Source: Hazbin Hotel (Pilot)

Status: Devoted Long-Term Relationship

Morality: ?

Blood Family: Giovanni (Son)

Interactions With Others: Wisecracking, Often teasing and making fun of others. Otherwise neutral.

Blog: @glamspiderfluff

Tag: Angel💖

🤡🍭 • Patches the Clown

Source: OC

Status: Boyfriend

Morality: Chaotic Neutral

Blog: @patches-the-clown

Tag: Patches🤡

🍂🎃 • Enoch

Source: Over The Garden Wall (miniseries)

Status: Married

Blog: @autumn-belle

Tag: Enoch🍂

🌈🎩 • The Warden

Source: Superjail!

Status: Married

Morality: Unknown

Interactions With Others: Prefers to keep to himself, and can easily become jealous of other love interests, and God have mercy on anyone who wrongs his wife.

Blog: @splenderific-skittles

Tag: Warden🌈

🎃🧨 • Jack O'Lantern

Source: The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy episode "Jacked up Halloween"

Status: Engaged

Blood Family: Penelope (Daughter)

Blog: @its-the-great-pun-kin

Tag: Jack🎃

✈🛸 • Capt. Michael Quinn

Source: Project Blue Book (Series)

Status: Engaged

Morality: Chaotic Good

Blog: @lets-touch-the-stars

🦂🎩 • Marcus Cochran/Mr. Tophat

Source: Are You Afraid of The Dark: Carnival of Doom

Status: Married

Morality: Chaotic Good/Chaotic Evil (Duo personality)

Blog: @circus-scorpion

Tag: TopHat🦂

☣🖤 • Hexxus

Source: Ferngully: The Last Rainforest

Status: Married

Morality: Chaotic Evil

Blood Family: Morana (Daughter)

Style of Relationship: Passionate Royal

Blog: @toxic-mud

Tag: Hexxus☣

👽🔫 • Invader Zim

Source: Invader Zim (Series)

Status: Unspoken Relationship

Morality: ?

Style of Relationship: Comfort x Comfort

Blog: @i-am-zim-2001

Tag: Zim👽

♦️🐾 • Yeshua

Source: Satellite City (Shorts by Fennah)

Status: Boyfriend

Morality: ?

Style of Relationship: Feral Mates

Blog: @eldritch-casino-cat

Tag: Yeshua♦️

🎲🐛 • Oogie Boogie

Source: Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas

Status: Married

Morality: Chaotic Evil

Blood Family: Minnie (daughter)

Blog: @nightmaregamblinman

Tag: Oogie🎲

🍭🐝 • "Queen Bee" Beelzebub

Source: Helluva Boss

Status: Girlfriend

Morality: ?

Blog:

Tag: Bee🍭

👾🎩 • Lord Black Hat

Source: Villainous

Status: Unspoken

Morality: True Evil

Style of Relationship: Concubine x Master

Blog: @oh-dark-lord

Tag: BH🎩

💰😈 • Mammon

Source: Helluva Boss

Status: Married

Morality: Neutral Evil

Blog: @greedy-evergreen

Tag: Mammon😈

🎻🐾 • Roark "Rocky" Rickaby

Source: Lackadaisy

Status: Obsessive Boyfriend

Morality: Chaotic Good

Blog:

Tag: RockyCat🎻

🟣 Back to Main Masterpost

• ● • ● • ● • ● • ● • ● • ● • ● •

🟣 List of Children Characters

🟣 List of Platonic Characters

🟣 List of Familial Characters

🟣 List of Miscellaneous Characters

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

[canonrpfinder]

hi there! i use they/them pronouns. 25+ rp writer looking for 21+ discord rp writers. i am very friendly and i promise i don't bite. i write in english but i welcome anyone who is using online rp to practice their english. most of my writing will be 3+ paragraphs in length. i have only listed my preferred muses and comfort ships.

dm or like this post and i will get back to you.

(note: my ships will not be heavily based in smut or lewd - content will remain sensitive to the canon ages of each character listed)

doctor who:

(open to friendship/enemy connections)

✏ prefer to write jenny flint, clara oswald, 11th doctor, donna noble, rose tyler, amy pond, and river song

✒ ships: jenny x vastra; 10th x rose; river x the doctor

supernatural:

(open to friendship/enemy connections)

✏ prefer to write dean winchester, charlie bradbury, lilith, and meg

✒ ships: dean x cas

once upon a time:

(open to friendship/enemy connections)

✏ i prefer to write as henry mills, regina mills, ruby lucas, merida, peter pan, and belle french

✒ ships: regina x emma; merida x mulan; ruby x snow; belle x rumple

chilling adventures of sabrina/riverdale:

(open to friendship/enemy connections)

✏ i prefer to write as sabrina morningstar, theo putnam, dorcas night, lilith/madam satan, veronica lodge,

✒ ships: sabrina x betty; zelda x lilith; veronica x betty; toni x cheryl

marvel:

(open to friendship/enemy connections)

✏ i prefer to write nebula, rocket raccoon, mantis, yelena belova, deadpool, kitty pryde, rouge, loki laufeyson, and squirrel girl

✒ ships: kitty x rouge; yelena x kate

dc comics:

(open to friendship/enemy connections)

✏ i prefer to write kara zor-el, lena luthor, nia nal, and alex danvers

✒ ships: kara x lena; kara x nia; lena x nia; alex x kelly; alex x lena

broadway/musicals:

(open to friendship/enemy connections)

✏ i prefer to write janis ian (mean girls), karen smith (mean girls), barbara maitland (beetlejuice), delia deetz (beetlejuice), and elphaba (wicked)

✒ ships: janis x cady; adam x barbara; karen x gretchen; elphaba x glinda

merlin:

(open to friendship/enemy connections)

✏ i prefer to write: morgana pendragan, merlin, and morguase

✒ ships: morgana x gwen; merlin x arthur

the addams family/wednesday:

(open to friendship/enemy connections)

✏ i prefer to write: wednesday addams, thing, gomez addams, morticia addams, and yoko ono

✒ ships: wednesday x enid; yoko x divina; mortica x larissa; gomez x morticia

american horror story:

(open to friendship/enemy connections)

✏ i prefer to write: queenie, scarlett winslow, zoe benson

✒ ships: scarlett x ruby; scarlett x maya; zoe x madison

stranger things:

(open to friendship/enemy connections)

✏ i prefer to write: max mayfield, robin buckley, eddie munson, will byers, vicki, and eleven hopper

✒ ships: steve x eddie; will x mike; max x eleven; max x lucas; robin x nancy; eddie x cindy; vicki x robin

lost girl:

(open to friendship/enemy connections)

✏ i prefer to write: kenzi malikov, bo dennis, evony fluerette marquise

✒ ships: bo x tamsin; bo x evony; bo x kenzi

horror/indie:

(open to friendship/enemy connections)

✏ i prefer to write: mia (the fallout), tara carpenter (scream); mindy meeks-martin (scream); glen (chucky); glenda (chucky); tiff valentine (chucky); moira karp (some kind of hate); bonnie harper (the craft); sara bailey (the craft); z (warm bodies)

✒ ships: mia x vada; tara x amber; tara x quin; tara x mindy; tiff x chucky; moira x kaitlin

✒

[murkyspace]

well I hope you liked those AUs, because here’s two more that I’ve had on the backburner for months. I’ve had no motivation to write for these, despite the fact that I really like the concepts:

“Showstopper”

- Instead of banishing him, Juno rents out Beetlejuice to other demons and humans who’ve found the tools to summon him, forced to do nothing but take orders for centuries.

- When he’s not on the job, he’s forced to wear a collar that drains him of his magic before he has a chance to use it. Think of it like an inverse spiked collar, with a bunch of little syringe-like pricks going into his neck. Wearing it for so long’s left a scar that’s kind of like a dotted line along his neck.

- Anyways, the plot happens when he’s summoned by Otho, and what seems like a routine call turns into a plan to trick his mom in giving him his freedom.

- Surprise! It’s a partially Otho-centric fic, because honestly, I feel like he’s a little underutilized. In this AU, he’s still a con man, but he’s invested a lot into his studies of the supernatural

- Spoilers, it works, and the two enter a partnership. Beej gets sanctity in the living world and a new afterlife to call his own, and Otho gets the world’s best special effects for his new traveling stage show. After he’s free, Beej usually covers the scars around his neck with a scarf or bandana

- Enter Lydia. At this point, her home situation is father, daughter, and Delia, and she’s having absolutely none of it. Delia’s still a life coach, but she’s more of a fan of Otho’s than a disciple. So, naturally, she feels that one of the best ways to cheer Lydia up is to take her to see one of his shows, and Charles is too exhausted and desperate to argue.

-Lydia hates the performance, but she immediately notices the uncredited stage crew behind the curtain. After sneaking backstage, she meets Beej, who’s being kept inside a steamer trunk surrounded by salt while Otho addresses the paparazzi. The two of them strike up a deal of their own: she calls him out in her house, and he scares the shit out of Charles and Delia

-Shenanigans involving Beej literally being in two places at once ensue, Otho finds out and is initially hurt that Beej went behind his back, but scaring with Lyds helped him realize that only existing as a stage trick wasn’t much of a step up from his previous cage. Long story short, Beej and Otho make a new agreement, and Lydia ends up with the world’s weirdest internship.

- From there, Beej and Otho are Lydia’s honorary gay uncles with no kids who spoil her during the holidays. (yeah there might be BJ x Otho stuff in here, because next to nobody writes that ship. Nothing sexual onscreen, though)

“Bold Departure”

- Not sugarcoating it, Juno just straight up mauls her son and leaves him for dead (metaphorically) on Saturn.

- Except, it’s the actual planet Saturn. He’s found by astronauts who take him back to Earth. He’s pretty much 2 weeks from fading from existence, so through the magicy-science of the future, his essence is converted into code and he’s given a shiny new robot body with a whole bunch of bells and whistles that work pretty much like his old tricks.

- He’s also given the new name Betelgeuse. The name also acts as a safety function, saying it three times locks him out of his more dangerous toys.

- Hundreds of years later, when a scouting expedition ship lands on a distant planet, Lydia finds the signal of a dusty robot in a striped suit using the last memento her mother gave her before her disappearance.

-I do have some plot for this, but it’s very spoiler-heavy, so I’ll share some of the planned roles for the characters.

- Charles is the main organizer and captain of the vessel (that I haven’t named yet). He works under Maxie Dean and mainly makes voyages to trade with nearby civilizations or scout out desolate planets.

- Lydia’s either a stowaway or here for work experience. She still has her passion for photography and morbid curiosity, and is super interested to see what the other reaches of space have to say about the abstract and weird. She never goes anywhere without her camera and a little tamagotchi-like device. The latter of which is the last gift from her mom. (She also puts Beej in it when she’s travelling around because the last thing she wants her dad to know about is her new nasty murder robo-BFFFF)

- Adam and Barbara are mechanics on the ship, they’re not really high-ranking, mostly relegated to maintenance and checking gauges and fuel. Together, they’re the best at fixing up mobile robot units, though, so they are the first people Lydia reveals her new killing machine to. After the initial shock of “oh god I didn’t even know something could hold that many sharp things” wears off, they find out that Beej is a pretty good conversationalist when he’s not making passes at them or cracking jokes darker than coal. He does his best to play wingman to the both of them, since it’s obvious they like each other and haven’t said anything yet. Who knows, maybe he could get in on that action?

if you guys liked any of the ones I posted here, I’ll be happy to drop lil breadcrumbs of headcanons or non-spoilery plot, maybe even chapters when I get to working on ‘em.

[theblotsays]

Beetlejuice Print by Mark Bell x Bottleneck Gallery x Vice Press

Today, Vice Press and Bottleneck Gallery summon the ghost with the most by releasing this fun new movie poster for Beetlejuice by artist Mark Bell! As Vice Press explained, “Beetlejuice is one of our favourite films, and not one we see very many posters for. Mark has done a great job of capturing the colours of the film and Tim Burton’s quirky aesthetic while still very much staying true to his style.” Beetlejuice by Mark Bell is a 24”x36” hand numbered lithograph print. The Regular Edition on 300gsm GF Smith Accent paper is limited to 175 pieces and will retail for $60 / £39.99, while the Foil Variant on Rainbow Mirri Foil paper is limited to 150 pieces and will retail for $60 / £49.99. Both editions go on sale at 12pm ET on Tuesday, February 28th, at BottleneckGallery.com and at 6pm BST at Vice-Press.com. http://dlvr.it/Sk89ff

[avocado-writing]

Cut You A Piece Of Me

Part 1: Autumn

| Beetlejuice x GN!Reader

| 6.8k

| Rated: M (Eventual Smut)

| Summary:

A college student finds a cheap room in an old house, and soon finds out why the rent is so low.

(note: I posted this in 2020 on ao3, deleted it after I abandoned it, and now I’m finally trying again)

reader is Afab, they them pronouns!

It was difficult to find somewhere to live as a student, and even harder when you were doing your master’s degree and all of your friends had fucked off to get ‘real’ jobs. You were sort of left floundering with nowhere to go and your lease running out fast.

Then you’d seen the advert. A room to let in an old country house in an up-and-coming community. Further from your university than you’d like - but also you drive so it’s not that big a problem. And at how much they were asking for a month? Really you couldn’t pass over such a great opportunity. 

So you called up the number in the ad and spoke to a lovely woman called Delia. She seemed enthusiastic about having someone move in, asked if you wanted to come round and have a look at the place. By that point you were so desperate to find somewhere to live that you said no, you trusted it would be great, and you’d send the deposit money over right away.

Maybe that was a mistake.

A week later you pulled up to the house in your battered old car and got the two suitcases out of your boot that held everything you owned. You looked up, squinting against the sunlight. It was a really nice place. Old but it definitely had personality. It would be a perfect subject you think, casting your mind to your camera packed in its case.

You’ve no sooner rung the bell than the front door is thrown open. You’re met with a small grinning ginger lady who embraces you, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

“You must be the new tenant!” she exclaims, taking your hand warmly. “I’m Delia, it’s so nice to meet you.”

“Ah, yeah, you too.” You force a smile. This woman seems to be on the verge of a panic attack. Or an anxiety attack. Some sort of attack, definitely. She’s practically vibrating.

“Come in, come in, take a look around,” she says, ushering you inside. The interior is just as nice. There’s some modern pieces mixed and matched with old ones, giving a sense of timelessness to the decor. You then realise she’s been talking this whole time. You’ve not been paying attention and feel a little bit guilty.

“Anyway, you’ll be staying upstairs, you’re of course welcome to use the kitchen so long as you clean up after yourself,” you follow her as she goes, awkwardly lugging your two suitcases up the narrow flight of stairs. The room she leads you to is pretty large. There’s not much furniture but you don’t need much anyway. You imagine you’ll probably be spending a lot of time on campus.

“This is so kind of you,” you say, putting down your bags.

“Oh, not at all! I mean, it’s just this huge old house with the… three of us,” she seems to hesitate on the word three. Maybe she’s pregnant, or something. With rent this low you try not to think too much into it.

“Who else lives here?”

“Well, my husband, Charles, but we’re usually working. And my stepdaughter Lydia. She’s… a unique personality,” she lands on. You fake a smile and wonder what that means.

She doesn’t leave as you unpack, determined to make cheerful conversation.

“So, what are you studying?”

“Uh, photography,” you say. It’s something you’d been avoiding bringing up. A lot of people didn’t see it as a ‘proper’ degree. But you’d worked hard and managed to get a fair bit of money for some of your work. Enough to help you support yourself during your master’s, anyway. But Delia claps in joy. 

“Oh great! Lydia is a photographer too. We actually have a dark room in the basement.”

“Oh shit, really?” you ask, then slap your hands over your mouth, not wanting to give a bad impression. Well, not immediately anyway. To her credit Delia either doesn’t notice or pretends not to.

“Yeah, I’m sure Lydia will be happy to show you around.” She pauses and tries again. “Well, I’m sure Lydia will show you around.” She looks at her watch and jumps. “Oh, I’m late for a lunch date! I’d better go - look, you have my number if you need anything. And, oh, welcome to the house!” She pauses, then takes your hands in hers. “You have a good energy. I think you’ll fit in well here.”

“Erm. Thanks?”

She leaves and you get on with unpacking your suitcases. It doesn’t take long, there isn’t much. Once you’ve meticulously put all of your clothes on individual hangers to pass the time you flop down onto the bed. It’s a bit dusty but you’d expect it in an old house. Honestly, the owner seems nice, the space is great, and there’s a dark room here - it’s like you’ve hit the jackpot. 

There is one thing though. It sort of feels like you’re being watched.

You shake your head. It’s probably nothing. Old houses can sometimes have a creepy feel. It’s something you don’t doubt you’ll get used to.

You hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. You sit up and dust yourself down and wait for someone to appear.

Up the stairs comes a teenager. She’s dressed all in black. She stops in your doorway when she sees your room isn’t empty. From the look she gives you, you get why Delia had to choose her words carefully.

“You must be Lydia,” you say. She narrows her eyes and nods.

“Is that a camera?” she asks, gesturing to the case on your bed.

“Yep.”

She nods again and walks off. Probably to go to her room. 

“Nice to meet you too,” you mutter, hoping she can’t hear you. Then again you suppose you have to forgive her. You were a teenager once too. You don’t know how kindly you’d have taken to a stranger moving into your family home. 

You meet Charles that evening when he arrives home. He and Delia ask if you want to join them for dinner and you’d feel like an asshole to say no. The food is kinda charred. You eat it anyway. Lydia stares at you from across the table.  

“So,” says Charles, breaking the silence in a booming way only a father can, “Delia tells me you’re a photographer?”

“Yep. Trying to get my master’s degree in it. I’ll do my best to keep out of your hair as much as possible, I have uni four days a week so I shouldn’t be around too much.”

“Nonsense, it’s good to have another person around the house! Maybe you could even show Lydia a few tricks with the camera,” he grins. 

Lydia’s hands tighten around her cutlery. 

“I’m sure Lydia already knows about photography, sir. Otherwise you wouldn’t have built her a dark room,” you reason. Charles seems surprised by that. You see something that might be a smile cross Lydia’s face but it’s just for a second. 

After dinner you politely excuse yourself back to your room. You suddenly realise how tired you are. With nothing better to do you shove something to zone out to on your laptop and let yourself fall asleep to it. 

You wake up in the middle of the night desperate to pee. You really wish you’d remembered where Delia said the fucking bathrooms were. You grab your phone and use the torch to navigate out of bed and into the corridor. It takes a few tries - closet, closet, someone’s bedroom (shit) before you find one with a toilet. You plop down onto the seat with relief. 

And you’re sure, over the sound of peeing, you can hear talking. 

It’s coming from above you. You’re pretty certain you saw stairs going up there, an attic you think. It’s hard to tell whose voice it is from here. You wonder if you should check. If the Deetzs (Deetzes? Deetzszs?) are being robbed they’d probably want to know, right? Best to go and take a look. 

You wash your hands and walk through the house, up the stairs. Every fucking floorboard seems to creak. About halfway up you wish you’d bought a weapon with you. About two thirds up you realise burglars probably aren’t going to come in through the attic. About three quarters up you decide it’s probably too late to turn back anyway.

You climb high enough that you can see over the landing. It’s Lydia. She’s in black pyjamas - of course she is - and she’s talking to someone. Two someones actually. They don’t look like crooks. They’re dressed like… well how people in their forties should dress but this couple are definitely younger than that. They all seem relaxed, jokey even, until the man spots you and goes still. You curse under your breath. 

“I think someone’s watching you,” says the man, and Lydia turns. She doesn’t look pleased. Then again she never looks pleased. You sigh and step into view. 

“What do you want?” she asks, sharply. 

“Well I was wondering what a teenage girl was doing talking to two secret random adults in the attic of the house I just moved into but I guess you have it all under control,” you say, gesturing to the scene in front of you. Lydia’s eyebrows skyrocket. The couple behind her looked shocked too. 

“You can see us?” asks the woman. 

“Uh. Yeah?” you reply. 

“How?”

“With my… eyes?” You turn to Lydia. “Do I need to get someone?”

They exchange a look. 

“You might wanna sit in the beanbag chair for this one,” says the man, getting to his feet.

“Why?”

“Just… sit in the beanbag chair.”

You sit in the beanbag chair. A fine layer of dust explodes into the air.

“We’re ghosts.”

“Okay, I’m getting someone-” you say, but before you can make a move the woman steps forward and walks literally through the man. You freeze.

“Oh,” you say, “Okay.”

“Don’t panic!” the woman says, running towards you, as if she thinks she can catch you if you faint, then thinks better of it. “We aren’t evil or anything. I’m Barbara and this is Adam. Maitland. We… died here.”

“Okay.” you say. “This is fine.” (it isn’t). “I’m fine.” (you’re not).

“Take a moment to breathe, okay?” says Adam, 

You look over to Lydia who’s standing in the corner with her arms crossed.

“Are you a ghost too?”

“Nah. Just them. Me and my dad and Delia moved in here after they died,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Well, and Bee-” Adam starts, but Barbara puts a hand on his arm.

“Hasn’t there already been enough to deal with today?” she asks him quietly.

“Well, he’s gonna appear sometime-”

“How can you see them?” Lydia interrupts, walking over and scrutinising you. You don’t much appreciate the crowd of people you’ve attracted so push through them (literally, literally through them) and to the other side of the room. You need a cigarette. You haven’t had one since you got here, you realise. Your lungs are aching for the sweet, relaxing smoke. But the pack of Marlboros you have is back in your bedroom. Instead you throw open the window and take in a huge breath. It’s not the same. 

“I mean. I probably have an idea why,” you say, eventually. “When I was a kid, I was hit by a car. Before the ambulance came I was legally dead for like, a minute before I was resuscitated.”

“That’ll probably be it,” posits Lydia. “You don’t seem the usual type to see ghosts.”

You want to ask what the ‘usual type’ is but you figure, probably Lydia, huh. 

You take a couple more lungfuls of disgustingly smoke-free air and feel yourself actually calming down. Okay, so there are ghosts here. They don’t look troublesome or anything. And honestly if this is the reason the room was so cheap you can live with it. 

“Is there anything else I should know about?” you ask, turning to face the three of them. “I’d really rather you just lay it all on me right now. One ghostly encounter is enough.”

Another look is exchanged. You hate that. Hate not being in on the conversation.

“There’s uh. There’s a demon who lives round here,” Adam says. Oh, fucking fantastic. Just as you’re about to go and start packing he quickly continues: “But he’s friendly! Ish. He’s…”

“Beetlejuice is kind of an asshole,” Lydia says. “And he loves new people. But I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle.”

You’re not sure if she’s being genuine. It’s sort of hard to tell with her. 

“What sort of name is Beetlejuice?” you ask. She shrugs. 

“Don’t ask me. He’s annoying but don’t let that get to you. And don’t say his name three times in a row. It makes him able to manifest.” 

There’s a lot going on here. You need to go back to bed. You need to smoke. You really need to pee again. 

“Okay,” you say, and you realise it is. “Okay. Fine. Ghosts? Ok. Demon? Sure. I have class tomorrow so I’m gonna go to bed now.”

“Goodnight!” the Maitlands chirp. Lydia nods. You make your way back downstairs, first to the bathroom and then back to your bed. 

You rummage in your jacket pocket and bring out a smoke before going over to the window and throwing it open. There’s a pretty wide window ledge you can sit on, but the roof is also hanging pretty far. You wonder…

You reach up and try to get a grip. Thankfully the fascia sticks out enough for you to get your fingers around. It’s not an elegant movement but you manage to haul yourself up onto the roof which is flat enough for you to be able to sit on without danger of tumbling off. Much better to smoke up here, you think, you don’t want to make the house reek. You thank whoever is watching out for you and light up, looking around at the view you can see in the darkness. 

It’s fine. You’re fine. You’ll be fine. You have a degree to get on with. Ghosts can be a problem further down the list after essays and coursework. 

You finish the cigarette, stub it out on a roof tile, and slide back into your bedroom. You take the butt with you. It seems kinda nasty to just throw it on the Deetz’s lawn. Then you crawl into bed and try to go back to sleep, and ignore the fact that the feeling of someone watching you earlier wasn’t just paranoia.

*

You sleep surprisingly well and wake up the next morning calm for about six seconds before you remember the events of last night. Then you’re overcome with a feeling of dread and the craving for a cigarette. You pull on a jumper and climb back up onto the roof. 

It’s about six, and the sun is just coming up over the horizon. Everything’s bathed in orange. It’s very pretty but it’s also fucking freezing. You wrap your jumper round your knees and take in a lungful of smoke, hoping it’ll warm you up. 

“You shouldn’t smoke ya know. Bad habit, babes.”

With a horrible lurch in your stomach you realise you aren’t alone. You turn your head and see someone’s next to you.

He’s lying back on the roof like he’s sunbathing, arms behind his head and legs crossed. When he sees he has your attention he sits up and grins into your face.

If someone had said the word ‘demon’ this guy’s aesthetic would have been like, sixth or seventh down your list. He’s kinda crusty. There’s some sort of moss growing on him. He’s… green. He smells like rising damp.

“You’re Beetlejuice then,” you say, hoping you wouldn’t have to deal with this so soon. He grins. 

“And you’re the new tenant. Who’s also a filthy smoker. Fine for demons, bad for breathers.”

He takes the cigarette out your fingers and puts the lit end out on his tongue. Before you can complain he sticks the whole thing in his mouth. 

And then he fucking eats it.

At least that’s what it looks like he’s doing, the way his jaw is masticating. You can only watch on in horror as he chews, and then sticks his tongue back out. Your cigarette is still there but it’s been tied into a little bow. Like it was a cherry stem. You would be quite impressed if it wasn’t so fucking grim.

“Oh my christ,” you say as he picks it off of his tongue and flicks it off the roof. He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“You wanna see what else this tongue can do?”

“What the fuck dude! I was smoking that!” It’s probably far too late to object, but you’ve just got your wits back about you. 

“Yeah. And now you’re not.”

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“You’re a demon, huh?”

“Yeah…” he says, scooting closer. 

“And you can’t die?”

“Can’t kill what’s already dead, sweetheart.”

“I see.”

You reach out and put a hand on his chest. He raises a brow even further. 

Then you shove him off the fucking roof. 

There’s the sound of screaming, then a thump. Then shouting.

“Oh! Okay! Okay! That’s how it’s gonna be huh -!”

You ignore him and go back inside, slamming the windows shut and getting dressed. You’ve got to be at university in just over an hour so it isn’t like you have much time to waste. You head downstairs and grab yourself a bowl of cereal - the Deetz’s said you were free to take whatever you wanted but you’d be more comfortable being able to go grocery shopping for your own stuff. Maybe you’ll do that after class. You stand at the island counter and eat, only your eyes flickering up when the door to the garden is thrown open. 

Beetlejuice limps in, twists his leg back into its correct shape from where it was on backwards, then opens the fridge and takes out the milk. He drinks it from the carton and puts it back. 

“Oh my god,” you say, “do you do that all the time?”

“I do it as often as you push wellwishers off the roof,” he snips back. 

You dump the rest of the cereal in the trash, not feeling like eating anything this dude might have directly touched. Lydia enters the kitchen, dressed for school - she’s wearing a uniform but hasn’t changed her makeup from the usual choice of “lots of black”. 

“So you two have met,” she says, looking across the room. 

“Yes,” you both reply, still at a standoff. 

“You didn’t mention the new tenant was a dick,” Beetlejuice states.

“You did mention he was an asshole,” you snip back. He looks offended. 

“You said I was an asshole?” he asks Lydia. 

“Well it’s true.”

Beetlejuice goes to retort, realises she’s probably right, and shuts his mouth with a click of teeth. She shrugs and goes to make some toast. You pull your backpack on. 

“Where are you going?” he asks, suddenly sounding disappointed. 

“University,” you tell him, checking you have your car keys. 

He blows a raspberry. “Sounds boring. Why would you want to go back to school?”

“Well, right now, because it’s going to get me out of this house,” you tell him. “Bye Lydia.”

She waves. As you go to your car, he fucking follows you. 

“When are you coming back?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t!” he snaps. The two of you watch each other for a long moment before you shake your head. 

“Whatever, man,” you tell him, before leaving. 

Uni is pretty dull. It’s just a refresher of your undergrad for the new students from other colleges. You sit and listen patiently though, knowing what’s going to be waiting for you when you get home. A trip to the supermarket after is only a brief respite. 

And he is. Waiting. You pull up into the driveway and see his face poking out of the kitchen window. You sigh, knowing there’s no point delaying the inevitable, and head inside. 

“How was your day? Boring, I bet,” he says, as soon as you walk through the door. You roll your eyes as you unpack your food. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?”

“No, not right now. Hey, what’s that round your neck?”

“It’s my camera case.”

“Hey, Lydia does-”

“Yes, yes, I know Lydia does photography!” You snap, throwing your hands in the air, “I know that means for some reason that means everyone in this house thinks we should be best friends. But also she’s like, sixteen, and if she wants to come to me and talk that’s fine, but I’m not going to force her to be my friend if she isn’t comfortable with it. Jesus Christ.”

This clearly wasn’t the reaction Beetlejuice was expecting. He’s actually stunned into silence for a moment, which gives you enough time to slip away back to your room. 

You spend some time going through paperwork on your laptop before you hear someone else come home. There’s muffled muttering which you can hear is between Lydia and that fucking demon. If you listened hard enough you could probably eavesdrop but you really don’t care about whatever weird dynamic they have going on. 

A moment later you’re aware of a figure in your doorway. It’s Lydia. She’s staring at you with a look of… well, it’s hard to pin down but it’s like she’s impressed. 

“Do you need to be invited over the threshold or something?” you ask. 

“I mean, I was being polite.”

You sigh. It isn’t her you’re angry at. 

“Sorry. Come in.”

She does, inspecting your room with a critical eye, and flops down on your bed, swinging her legs. 

“Beetlejuice likes you.”

“Oh,” you reply, not sure if that’s a good thing. 

“He wants me to talk him up to you.”

You snort, and Lydia smiles too. 

“Yeah. Thought that might be your reaction.”

“Why me?”

“He likes new people, I told you.”

“Guess I’ve gotta get used to it then, huh?”

She shrugs. You sigh and accept it’s gonna be a long year. 

*

It’s a quiet night, for once. In that Beetlejuice hasn’t yet manifested in your room just to “annoy the nerd”. Charles and Delia have gone out to some sort of social engagement so you’ve been left with Lydia. 

She’s been opening up to you, slowly. She isn’t much of a sharer. It was a big step when she let you use the dark room. You get the sense she doesn’t trust very easily. 

You close your laptop and go downstairs for a drink. Lydia is sitting on the sofa. Some sort of Korean horror film is on the dvd player. That new one with the zombies, it looks like. She looks up at you when you get down the stairs, not guilty exactly, but definitely wary.

“You old enough to watch this?” you ask, nodding your head to the screen. Someone’s already getting their head ripped off. Looks like a promising movie.

“Depends,” she says, “are you gonna narc on me?”

“Depends,” you shoot back, “are you gonna let me watch it too?”

She shrugs and scoots up on the sofa. You plop down at the other end and relax into the overabundance of pillows you guess come from Delia. You get five minutes in before a familiar presence - and smell - settles over the room. 

“Hey, what we watching? Oh sweet, zombies! I love those guys!”

“Shh!” you and Lydia both hiss. Beetlejuice harrumphs and swings over the back of the sofa to sit between the two of you. He manages to last for a couple of minutes before he starts fidgeting. 

“Can you make this speak in a language I understand?”

“No. This isn’t even out in this country yet,” Lydia tells him, waving her hand for him to be quiet. He mutters and shuffles down into the sofa. He’s pretty well behaved after that, only occasionally commenting on how gory each death is. He does scoot closer to you over the course of the film. You let him. 

By the time the film ends his arm is up against yours. You get up to switch off the tv and you think he grumbles to himself. 

When you turn around you see Lydia’s fallen asleep. She has her head in the crook of her arm and is snoring very softly. 

“Bless her,” you say. Beetlejuice looks disgusted at the idea of blessing someone before he follows your gaze and seems to soften 

“She’s a good kid.”

“Yeah,” you reply, putting a blanket over her, “she is.”

She stirs a little bit and snuggles down further. The two of you stay in silence. It’s the softest moment you’ve had together. 

“I’m uh, I’m gonna go to bed,” you say, eventually. 

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite, babes,” he says after you, “that’s my job.”

You roll your eyes at him and go upstairs. He doesn’t follow you, for once. 

*

“Look more despondent.”

You turn to Lydia, trying to stop your jaw chattering from the cold. She has her camera clutched in her hands as she tries to direct you. You didn’t think becoming her friend would mean modelling. It’s incredibly chilly outside, and you’re only dressed in skinny jeans and a black long sleeve shirt. You really should have a coat on. But it’s what Lydia wants for her art so you try to follow her instructions. 

“That isn’t despondent,” she replies. 

“Lydia, I have no idea how to do that.”

A low whistling makes you turn around. Beetlejuice is floating in the air, staring at you with his eyebrows raised and a very satisfied smile on his face. 

“Feeling nippy?”

You look down, see what he means, flip him the bird and cross your arms over your chest. 

“What do you want?” you ask. 

“Hey, I’m just taking in the view, babes.”

You hear a shutter click behind you. You turn your head and see Lydia holding her camera up to her eye. She motions for you to keep going. You roll your eyes. 

“How does it feel not to be behind the camera?” he floats over, trying to look down your shirt. You shove him away and he spirals in the air. 

“Pretty bad actually. I don’t like to be the one photographed.”

“Yeah?” he seems genuinely interested but tries to hide it. Seeing Lydia is still taking photos, you suppose you’d better not interrupt by walking away. 

“I dunno. I like to have the control in my hands. But she needed a model and most of her friends round here don’t really show up on camera, so,” you shrug. 

“You’re a real martyr, doll,” he says, clutching his hands to his heart and swooning. It makes you laugh. You try to stifle it. You don’t want him to think he’s funny, he’s already smug enough as it is. “You know what I think will help you loosen up?”

“Oh god, what?”

You wish you hadn’t asked. A second after, he grabs you bridal style and swoops you up. 

“Beetlej-” you start but it’s cut off when you realise you’re floating. There’s a good ten feet between you and the ground. “Oh god. Oh, fuck!”

“I mean, if you want me to.”

You want to tell him to fuck off but you don’t, instead squeezing your eyes shut and burying your face into him, trying not to look down. 

“Put me down!” you try not to shriek, but it’s hard with your heart in your mouth. 

“You’re fine - besides, you’re being such a good model!” 

You risk a peek down and see Lydia firing off pictures. You grumble and hide back until it’s over. 

“I mean, with the way you’re holding onto me, I might just keep you up here…”

“Don’t you dare.”

He cackles as you thump him. Two long, long minutes go by, and you find yourself beginning to settle. He really does have quite a strong grip. He won’t drop you. 

You actually trust him. With this anyway. 

“Okay,” Lydia calls eventually, “you can stop the torture now.”

He floats to the floor and sets you down. You've never been so happy to be on the ground. 

“See? Told you you’d be okay,” he tells you. He’s sort of teasing you, but the way he says it seems to actually be full of… honesty. 

You hum a note. Something hangs in the air between you. But the moment passes, and he steps away. Lydia looks through the shots she has, smiling. 

“Can I watch vine compilations on your laptop?” Beetlejuice asks. 

“No.” You need to be alone. You feel sort of… vulnerable. 

“Urgh. You’re no fun.” He turns to Lydia. “Lyds can I watch vine compilations on your laptop?”

“Yeah sure.”

“Score,” he says to himself, floating away from you. He makes a lewd gesture as he goes. You return it, but you still find yourself smiling. 

*

School gets harder. Things stop being about what you already know and push you into trying out new ideas. It‘s exciting but it’s also exhausting, knowing you have to keep trying new ways to develop your talent. You’re staying up later and later poring over your pictures, picking the wheat from the chaff. A couple of times you’re almost late to uni, waking up way past your alarm clock and having to speed-run breakfast. Beetlejuice finds it all very funny. Thankfully you managed to enlist the help of the Maitlands to come and force you awake every morning. They do it without complaint. They’re angels. (Ironic, huh?)

One evening you’re exhausted, but still have a lot more work to do. You leave your camera and laptop set up and run down to your car, heading off to the nearest minimart to stack up on energy drinks and sugary sweets. You’re going to need the boost you think, and only artificial energy can get you through. 

When you get home you see the lamp is shining through your window. Weird, you don’t remember leaving it on. 

You head back up with your hand clutching the little blue plastic bag. When you open your door your heart drops. 

Your room is a mess. It isn’t like you had much in the first place but it’s all ransacked, your clothes spread over the floor; bed upended with the blankets thrown across the place; and -

Oh god. 

You drop your bag. A soda can rolls across the floor, hitting every floorboard, the sound ricocheting inside your skull. 

Your camera lies in pieces. 

You run over to it, falling to your knees, turning over the bits in your hands. Oh fuck. The lens is completely splintered and the delicate machinery is sprinkled everywhere. It’s ruined.

You feel a familiar presence behind you. 

“Oh babes, you’re back. Sorry about the mess.”

You spin around. He shuts up immediately seeing the look on your face. 

“What the fuck happened here?”

“We got into a situation with a sandworm-”

Before he can keep going you hold up the shattered remains of your camera. His face gets the grin wiped off of it pretty quick. 

“Oh.”

“‘Oh’? ‘Oh!?’ Is that all you can say?! What the fuck, I need this for school! I can’t afford a fucking new one! You’ve fucked me over for my entire course by doing this! What were you thinking?!”

He looks really upset, but you can’t bring yourself to care right now. 

“Babes-”

“Just… leave, Beetlejuice. I can’t look at you right now.” 

You sit down heavily on what’s left of your bed, feeling tears welling up in your eyes. You won’t look at him but you see his hands curl into fists before he disappears. 

You thwack down onto the bed, force the balls of your palms into your eyes and try to stave off the sobs. 

*

The next day is embarrassing. Your lecturer lays into you for forgetting your camera. You can bluff one day of not having it, but you need to think about getting a replacement stat. You don’t know where you’ll get the money. You’re lucky - when you were a kid the guy who hit you with his car was really wealthy, so your family managed to sue him for a pretty hefty amount. Enough to put you through college and a master’s (which your parents then complained you wasted on a photography course) but maybe not enough to stretch to a new camera. Not of the calibre you needed anyway. 

You got home thinking of quick cash options, desperately racking your brain for something other than stripping, when you stopped at the door to your bedroom. 

It was… tidy. 

Tidier than you’d left it, anyway. Last night you’d only bothered to put your bed back together, too tired to sort out anything else. Now your clothes are back on their hangers, your bed is made, and -

There’s a little box sitting on it. You get closer and pick it up. You balk when you see it’s a new camera. A nice camera. Better than your old one. You open it up and also find there’s a couple of extra lenses tucked in there too.

“Hey.”

You turn and see Beetlejuice behind you, waiting at the door. It’s unlike him but also you did tell him off pretty badly yesterday. He’s not looking at you, his eyes instead focussed on where he’s scuffing his shoe on the floor. He seems… embarrassed.

“Hey,” you say, softly, “did uh, did you do this?”

He scuffs his foot again and nods. You hold up the box.

“And you went shopping?”

“I went stealing,” he corrects. Well, that isn’t great, but it’s the thought that counts you guess. When he finally looks up you’re smiling at him.

“Thanks, Beej.”

His grin almost splits his face in two.

“It’s okay doll. I’m uh… sorry about the other day,” he seems to have to force the words out. They clearly don’t come naturally to him.

“Sorry I yelled at you. I was just pent up about school. I really need it to go well, you know?”

“You wanna test it out? There’s some dead birds in the garden Lydia took loads of pictures of earlier,” he asks, nodding to the box in your hands.

“Fuck yeah, let’s go!”

It really is a nice camera.

*

“Please,” Lydia says. She’s desperate. She doesn’t get desperate so this must really be something else.

“I don’t know kiddo. It’s… kinda weird.”

“Don’t call me kiddo,” she warns, “and it’s not weird. You live here too. You can totally come to a Halloween party.”

The party in question is being thrown by Delia and Charles tomorrow night, Halloween. You’d been extended an invitation but they didn’t mind if you didn’t attend. Lydia, though, had no choice. She’s been told she had to make an appearance, no matter how brief. 

“Please? I can’t do it alone. I only have to be there for like a minute, so you only have to be there that long too.”

“Can’t Beetlejuice go with you?”

“He’s not allowed at parties any more. Not since the spiders incident,” she says.

It’s something you’re so curious about and yet you really don’t want to know the details of. So often the way with Beetlejuice.

“Please?”

You sigh. It’s an argument you know she’ll win. 

“And then we can go stream horror movies?” she begs. That probably isn’t a habit you should be encouraging but she’ll do it anyway and she knows the best torrenting websites. You sigh. 

“Just a minute?”

She grins. It’s an odd expression to see on her. 

“It’ll be fine. Oh also it’s a costume thing so find something to wear,” she tells you as she leaves. You sigh. Okay, great. That’ll be fun, you think miserably.

It isn’t. 

You spend all day worried about it, all night, and all of the next day too. It's ridiculous. It’s not really something you should be fretting about. It’s just a stupid party. But getting dressed up doesn’t sound exactly thrilling. 

You sigh. You said you’d do it for Lydia. So you will. 

Two hours before the party kickoff, you sit down in front of your mirror. You decide to go with “cat”. Cat is easy. Whiskers and a nose. You can make some ears out of card. You busy yourself with your handicrafts and hear things getting busy downstairs, unaware so much time has passed until you get a knock on the door. 

Lydia is dressed like a Salem witch. She probably didn’t have to buy a costume. She likely just had that hanging in her wardrobe. 

“Come on,” she says, “you did promise.”

“I don’t remember actually promising,” you mutter, but follow her anyway. 

It’s fine. It’s a suburban middle-aged couple’s Halloween party. It’s not going to go down in the history books. Delia seems delighted you’ve come and Lydia looks relieved when you’re the one she parades around her friends, introducing as “the new artist.” You’re embarrassed but force yourself to make polite conversation. You try to savour one cup of punch and keep attempting to slip away when you can. 

It works eventually. You meet Lydia where she’s hidden on the stairs and go to the attic to get away from the din. 

The Maitlands are pleased to see you, less so when they notice Lydia has her laptop under her arm. They look almost queasy when she starts searching for the movie. It has “blood” in its title twice. 

The film starts and you sit in the beanbag chair. Weird, the last time you were here was the night after you’d moved in. How things change. 

Almost as if he can read your mind, Beetlejuice appears. His eyes go wide when he sees you. 

“Wow, doll. Didn’t think you’d buy into all this, but you look a million bucks,” he says. You don’t. You look like someone who’s drawn on their face with borrowed makeup. 

“Are you gonna watch this with us or not?” you ask, gesturing to the decapitation onscreen. 

He turns and watches for a moment, then comes over and sits on the beanbag chair with you. Well, he sorts of sits on you. He sits on the bit you aren’t using and then lays himself over your lap. 

Everyone in the room sees. Everyone in the room watches with bated breath to see how you’re going to respond.

You sigh. It’s not ideal, but at the same time, you really can’t be bothered to cause a fight about this. Plus he’s keeping your legs warm. 

“Why do you always watch movies with subtitles,” he grumbles, but abides when you shush him. 

As the film goes on it turns out to be kind of… nice. You like cuddling, even though you wouldn’t admit it. Quite of their own accord your fingers end up in his hair. It’s greasy, that much you expected, but you find yourself playing absent-mindedly with it anyway, teasing little strands between your forefinger and thumb. He makes a little humming sound in his throat but doesn’t say anything. In the flickering light of the laptop screen you can see it’s beginning to change colour, going from green to pink. You don’t acknowledge it, but you don’t stop the gesture either.

The film ends. Lydia puts on another one. Neither of you move. 

It’s close to one in the morning when the second movie finishes. The Maitlands look terrified. They won’t be sleeping any time soon. Do they need to, you wonder? There’s still so much you don't know. 

“Well, I’m going to bed,” Lydia announces to the silence that’s accrued. 

“Yeah, me too,” you say, giving Beetlejuice enough of a shove to make him move off your lap. You bid everyone goodnight but you notice he follows you to your room. 

“Is there a reason you’re on my tail?” you ask, but not unkindly. He floats up in the air and shrugs. 

“I dunno. Just didn’t wanna leave you yet.”

It’s a sweet sentiment, and you go to reply, but it’s stifled by a yawn which quite overtakes you. You cover your mouth with your hand but he just laughs. 

“Am I that boring? I guess I’ve gotta try harder.”

You smile. There’s a moment but once again, it passes before you can do anything. 

“Happy Halloween, Beetlejuice.”

“Happy Halloween, babes.”

You go to bed. He doesn’t come after you. He wants to though.