#but its a knock-off beetlejuice

[arctic-pop]

This is my horrible nightmarish g-dragon moodboard

[hoodoo12]

Procreant

For some reason, Beetlejuice has a singled-minded goal. One you wouldn't have imagined.

NSFW, Beetlejuice/f!reader

Enjoy!

Beetlejuice inhaled sharply as he walked into the room.

Whatever. It didn’t faze you. Beetlejuice did random things all the time, so sucking in an exaggerated amount of air into non-working lungs barely registered on your radar. He plopped down heavily beside you on the couch, too close on purpose, just so you’d bounce and end up leaning against him.

“Babe. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you said, struggling and failing to win against broken down couch cushions. You gave up and just leaned into him, as he wanted.

The ghost--demon? He used both descriptors interchangeably and refused to define either one--narrowed his eyes suspiciously at you. “Hmm.”

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” he replied, although his demeanor didn’t change.

“Seriously, Beej. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he repeated.

His expression shifted a little, brows knitted not in confusion but with a touch of a glare. Before you could ask him again to he tell you what, exactly, he was talking about and explain why he gave you such a dirty look, he pushed up and off the couch. Less than a step away and he was gone. You sat alone on the couch in an awkward position, perplexed.

⁂

The next day Beetlejuice avoided you. Well, you weren’t sure he did it deliberately; before he’d grown attached to you he’d wander the place like a tom cat and occasionally, like a cat, slip through a crack and end up in a wall somewhere. He didn’t make an appearance to “help” while you made dinner. Typically, like last night, he joined you on the couch while you watched TV. Tonight, nada.

It was as bewildering tonight as it was twenty four hours ago. Since it had been a lazy day, you forwent your nightly shower before bed. Dropping your clothes, you reasoned you planned on washing the sheets the next day so they were dirty you wouldn’t make them any more dirty and even if you slept nude they wouldn’t make you any dirtier--

You interrupted your random train of thought with a yawn and were asleep before it got any more convoluted. 

When you opened your eyes again, in the sluggishness of being startled awake you had no idea what time it might be. It was still dark. Something had woken you up. You weren’t scared of monsters under the bed--having been around Beetlejuice desensitized you to lots of things--but a human intruder . . . that would be another beast entirely. Staying completely still, you strained your ears to listen for what might have disturbed you.

click-click-click-click

What the hell?

click-click-clickclickclickclick

You didn’t want to move, really, but turned your head to pinpoint the odd sound. Like a nightmare, a mass beside your bed on your bedroom floor shifted.

“Beetlejuice!” you hissed, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but knock it off!”

In your poor, dim-light vision, you could just make out that the mass folded inward a little. Not cowering, like it’d been caught, but more gathering itself like it was tensing for a leap. Its head lifted and you caught the faintest silver flash of eyes where there should be no reflection at all.

“Beetlejuice . . .” you repeated in warning.

clickclickclickclickclick

Before you could determine what specifically, other than him, was making that sound, Beetlejuice launched himself upward. He could be quite unnerving when he moved a little less than human. From all fours on the floor to pinning you down under your blankets, the movement had taken less time than a blink. He seemed to be shaking.

Struggling to give yourself some wiggle room, you sighed. “What the hell, Beej? What are you doing--”

He brought one hand to his face and breathed inward. The light clicking sound filled he air again. By this time your vision had adjusted enough that you could see better, even if it was in shades of grey. In his hand Beetlejuice had your discarded panties, the ones you’d dropped before crawling into bed. While you watched, he pressed them to his face and inhaled again. You could barely make out his expression, but now you could determine his jaw chattered, meaning his teeth made the unusual noise you heard. 

You repeated, “What are you doing--”

“No, what are you doing?!” he interrupted wildly.

Startled, you didn’t know what to reply.

Without no one reaching over to it, the light on your bedside table flicked on. Blinking to adapt your eyes to the sudden light, you watched Beetlejuice not only smell your panties again but lick them this time. His eyes rolled upward, something you’d seen him do during sex, and once more the clicking of his teeth filled the room.

“Beej,” you said quietly, “you’re worrying me . . .”

His eyes refocused and dropped to you. “Did you know? Did you do it on purpose? Was this a test?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about--”

“This!” he interrupted, waving your underwear towards you. The fabric was darker in the crotch; it became obvious he’d either licked them or sucked them prior to you seeing him do it. His normally dirt-choked voice ratcheted higher. “It was, wasn’t it! You didn’t take a shower, you left these right there so I would find them! Right?! You didn’t have to tease, baby, you just had to ask--I’m, I’m . . . fuck, I’m so ready--”

Managing to extract your arms from under the blankets, you reached upward towards him. You weren’t sure it was to protect yourself or to soothe him; the moment he saw your hands, however, Beetlejuice dropped his head into them.

“Baby, baby--please! This is so good, I need to make sure, okay? Okay? Let me--”

You had no idea what the hell he was talking about, or what you needed to “let him” do. His eagerness, his obvious delight was concerning but also, to be honest, a little infectious. Even at his most feral he’d never done anything to hurt you. You stroked the sides of his head.

“Okay . . . ?” you agreed tentatively.

His eyes lit up. He discarded your panties but not to the floor--you saw him shove them into his jacket’s pocket. Dropping his full weight down onto you, almost knocking the air out of you in an “oof!”, Beetlejuice kissed your open mouth but didn’t linger. His lips, slick with spit, slid over yours and immediately he began nosing both loudly and wetly over your cheek and down your neck. Somehow--you weren’t quite sure of the physics of it--he stripped away the blankets between the two of you while still atop you.

He began scooting down your body, eagerly snuffling at you. He made a pit stop at, well, your left armpit. That tickled. You spasmed as you laughed and couldn’t help but try to push him off; he was too solid to move. Inhaling deeply he licked under your arm, just as he’d done to your panties.Your laughter turned to shrieks and even more effort to make him stop.

With that reaction he finally continued downward.

Surprisingly, he didn’t pay much attention to your tits or nipples. Just a quick lick in passing. Just enough to make them tighten and you to start to arch your back in anticipation for more, but he moved on. You thought he left a trail of kisses where he’d been, but picking your head up to watch as he made his way to the junction of your legs, you realized it was just spit. Drool dripped unheeded from mouth, and occasionally he shoved his nose right a particularly thick smear of it. You couldn’t be completely sure, but you thought his jaw continued to chatter a little too.

When he finally settled between your thighs, his shoulders spreading them open before him, you reached down and slipped your fingers into the hair at his temple. Beetlejuice glanced up at you with a glazed look: his eyes and mouth open, another string of spit hanging from his lower lip. His face was comically expressive but you couldn’t pin a name on the way he looked up at you right this moment. 

Groaning, he dropped his mouth to your pussy.

The instant rush of sensations--the chill of his mouth, the soft prickle of his beard,the laving of his tongue through your folds like he was licking a plate clean--ignited your nerve-endings. One hand immediately went to his rats’ nest hair, taking a healthy grip of it, and when he found your clit and sucked it between his lips you almost jack-knifed in half as you cried out. Beetlejuice went hard at you. He’d always been eager and willing to eat you out like your pussy was his last meal, but this time it included rubbing his chin against you till you forced him to stop because it made your clit overly stimulated. It included snuffling and jamming his nose into your cunt, which  you’d have made a joke about that appendage simply not being good enough if you weren’t overwhelmed. It included the same thick, sloppy spit he’d plastered over your skin as he licked and sucked at you. What it did not include, surprisingly, were his fingers questing inside for your g-spot. That was okay, because in the shortest time ever from being awoken by a weird noise to Beetlejuice being weird to him shoving his entire face in your pussy, you involuntarily pulled at his hair and your thighs snapped shut around his head as you came. Your orgasm tackled you so quickly you couldn’t even cry out; all that managed to get passed your lips was a wheezy little whine. Every muscle tensed as a tsunami of pleasure washed over you before leaving you shaky and out of breath. You relaxed in spasming jerks, and if he hadn’t already been a ghost-demon you’d have definitely suffocated him. Death by pussy. He’d like that. When you finally managed to open your trembling legs again, Beetlejuice didn’t look up at you full of himself, all gleeful and gloating. In the soft light of your bedside lamp, the lower half of his face glistened from the smeared combination of your wet and his own saliva. His eyes remained dark and nowhere was the impish smile of a job done better than any breathing lover. He still looked ravenous. Like he’d only just whet his appetite. Only sharpened a hunger. He dropped his face back to your pussy and inhaled deeply once more. His eyes never left yours this time, watching for your reaction. Still trying to catch your breath, you were only able to give him a shaky smile. In another inhuman movement, Beetlejuice launched himself back up your body. The rough fabric of his suit didn’t chafe you; in fact, it disappeared completely, leaving him nude atop you. Laying on you heavily hip bones pressed uncomfortably into you, between them his erection pressed into the softness of your belly. His face inches from yours, the musky aroma of yourself washed over you. He licked his lips.

“Babe . . .” he groaned, his voice so deep it sounded like it’d been dug out from six feet under, “babe . . . I’m gonna fuck you so hard--I have to fuck you so hard--I’m gonna fill you up, you’re gonna be, you n' me, then you're gonna be . . .”

He dropped his face to your neck and went back to nuzzling you, complete with smelling your skin. You had to clear your throat before replying. The aroused wetness in your pussy must have dried you out everywhere else. “Going to be what, Beej?” Beetlejuice picked up his head again. Lips glossy from drool, the amber in his eyes eclipsed by pupils blown so wide his eyes were nothing but black pools, he swallowed before answering. “Gonna be knocked up. I’m gonna--it’s time now, baby, I can smell it. You’re ready, I’m ready--” His palatable desire and sincere desperation was the only thing holding back the laugh that threatened to spill from you. You couldn’t get pregnant by him! He was a ghost-demon-unalive-creature, and you were . . . the opposite of all those things. It could be a fun little fantasy, sure. You didn’t deny you were turned on and heat filled you at hearing him announce what he planned on doing to you. Damn biology. Damn hormones. 

Of course, the two of you had fucked like rabbits for a while now with no baby as a result. So whatever this new thing driving him was, you could go along with it. “--I’m gonna put a baby in you, all my come, all my jizz, I’m gonna--” he’d continued babbling. “Beej . . .?” “--fill you my come--huh? What, baby?”

You looked him straight in the eye. “You have to stick it in me to make that happen.”

He gaped like a fish for a second, processing the order before a wicked grin lifted the corners of his mouth. Broken out of his prattle, he whispered in a completely different, much more serious tone, “I didn’t finger you, baby, because I wanted to feel my cock to open you up.” That sent another bolt of arousal through you and you could only nod. Beetlejuice sat back on his knees. You spread your legs and lifted them, reaching between them for him. He dragged fingers through your folds one last time, sucked the taste of you off them as a group, then dropped his hand to his cock to give it a quick twist to wet it. Holding it at the base, he watched himself line up before letting gravity pull him back towards you. His cock opened you up all right. In a swift push he was flush inside you, pubic bone to pubic bone. You both cried out at the pleasurable friction and time stopped for a moment. Only a moment, however; before the nerve-endings stopped firing, Beetlejuice pushed both your legs further upward, to his shoulders, and pounded into you with ball slapping thrusts. An explosive grunt escaped him each time he bottomed out, and a thin whine accompanied when he pulled out. You grabbed at the headboard to steady yourself and prevent him from scooting you to the top of the bed. The two of you had had quick, heavy sex before; this was all that, on coke. You cried out too, matching his pitch. If he’d only given you another thrust or two, you’d have orgasmed again. As it were, however, Beetlejuice stopped abruptly and pulled out. “It’s not enough. Turn over,” he ordered. A new string of drool hung from his chin. He slapped the back of your thigh in an effort to hurry you along. You tried, but dazed from the cessation of pleasure he’d been building in you it took a moment to organize your limbs. It wasn’t fast enough for him. His cock glistening and bobbing in front of him, Beetlejuice grabbed your hips and bodily flipped you to your stomach. You’d have gotten onto your hands and knees if he’d given you half a second, but this modified doggy position seemed good enough for him. Squeezing in between your thighs, he pushed forward to once again slot his cock into the heat of your pussy. A different position, different but just as sweet pleasure. You clutched the sheets below you and continued to cry out with each thrust. Above you, Beetlejuice interspersed his groans with words, “baby, pregnant, fill you” and even once you thought you heard, “my mate, mine.” He’d always been possessive, but such covetous words spoken aloud . . . it may not be politically correct in this day and age, but in the heat of the moment it just felt right to be claimed and used. 

His thrusts shook your torso too, stimulating your nipples against the smooth fabric of the sheets below them. Your body couldn’t resist the growing euphoria. You came again, shouting your pleasure, your pussy clenching rhythmically even as he continued fucking you. Over your shoulder, he laughed. “That’s good baby, milk my cock, take all my come up in you--” Riding that high, you simply existed for a bit. You were sweaty, or was that more of his spit on your back? You didn’t know and it didn’t matter. In the next few moments, Beetlejuice’s rhythm faltered. He slammed into you, paused, then thrust again with the same intensity. The second time he couldn’t hold back any longer either, and howled as he came deep inside you. Usually his tepid come could be felt; this time your cunt was so well used and hot it seemed to simply absorb everything he gave you. After he shuddered through the aftereffects of his end, he collapsed on top of you. It was only then you realized you’d been drooling too, with your cheek now smashed into the bed. Bucking to get him off you, you groaned as his cock finally slipped out. “Lay on your back, baby,” Beetlejuice told you lazily. His release seemed to have sapped his feverish, single-minded breeding need out of him. You complied, but insisted on saying, “I’m only doing this because it’s more comfortable. Not because you told me to.” “Uh-huh,” he replied, barely lifting the arm he’d thrown over his eyes to look at you. “You want my baby, don’t deny it.” You rolled your eyes. “You want me to knock you up. You want me to fuck you till you’re pregnant. You want part of me growing in you.” If he hadn’t been acting so damn weird lately, you’d have turned that into a gross joke right back at him. As it were, however, you just let it go. You had been turned on by what he’d done to you tonight. Turning to your side so you could look at him, you scratched your fingernails down his chest. “What got into, Beej? I don’t understand.” Beetlejuice shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. You just smell . . . fertile. I couldn’t help but want to fuck you right now. Then. You know what I mean. In fact, if you wanna go again . . . the load might be a little smaller the second time, but I’ll still pump one into you . . .” “No, no, I’m good,” you assured him. You certainly didn’t feel fertile. Or any different than typical. Nothing that would explain him smelling a difference in you . . .

. . . except you were off your birth control pills. You’d stopped them a few weeks before because you’d been on antibiotics, and being on both was a waste of them because the other medication made them less effective anyway! Oh shit, you probably were more breedy at the moment! But that didn’t mean he could actually get you pregnant. Right? Right?!

You needed to worry about this. You needed to go and buy a pregnancy test--no, more like two or three, just to make sure!--and have horrendous spiraling anxious thoughts about the potential future-- --but Beetlejuice turned over too and wrapped you up in an embrace, snuggling close. He’d been sated. The brunt of whatever pheromone had affected him had eased. He wouldn’t understand your worry, since he thought everything was good in his world. And you were tired now too, since he’d woken you up before putting your body through a quick marathon of sex. You’d deal with everything tomorrow. “Turn out the light, Beej. And cover us up.” He complied immediately to both requests. Unbelievably, it was remarkably easy to settle into sleep with him holding you. 

fin

[obsessive-ego]

So a jealous beetlejuice can and will go full poltergeist

But what if he just kinda went petty poltergeist

Like knocking shit over, dropping books of shelves, knocking cups over, just petty shit, like a cat trying to get its owner's attention

Like you have a friend over, and beej knows he has to let you have relationships outside of him

So he watches, but like always, he's a jealous bitch, it kills him to see the two of you laugh and carry on so well, so he acts up

At first you don't really know it's him, knick knacks falling off shelves, doors closing on their own, you chalk it up to just "shit happens"

It's not until beetlejuice pushes his luck and knocks your friend's cup out of their hands, spilling it's contents all over their lap

Your friend apologizes profusely for the mess, but you don't really care, in fact you try to help clean them up with some paper towel

And this sends beetlejuice, now red with anger, his little breather was now pawing at this intruder's lap, the demon was grinding his teeth and tugging at his hair in frustration, but he couldn't tip you off that it was his doings, he just wanted your attention and now you're giving it to someone who doesn't even appreciate it

The whole time your friend was over, things would fall, weird noises were heard, and the temperature fluctuate

[beetled-juice]

Just some unfinished thoughts about Beej with a breeding kink. I’m going with two versions: one is Beej breeding you, the other is you breeding him. Reader uses gender neutral pronouns, though in my mind I’m always writing from a transmasc perspective so there will be mentions of y/n using a strap-on (implying y/n has a pussy).

Y/N Breeding Beetlejuice:

- The first time he makes any kind of reference to it is only a week after meeting you - he makes a joke about getting himself knocked up with your kid to baby trap you and force you to marry him. He sucks in a large breath and pushes his stomach out, placing his hands on his rounded belly like he was trying to feel a kick. You laugh it off and pat his ballooned belly as you walk past, making an off-hand comment about how it doesn't work that way, and you miss the way his eyes grow wide at the touch.

- Sometimes after a long day out in the world of the living, coming home to Beetlejuice and his chaos is... a lot, to put it kindly. One way you’ve learned to keep him quiet and contained is to pound him into the mattress, leaving him to claw and bite at the bedding beneath him as you work off his excessive energy. Normally he’s got a smart mouth, but whenever you take control like this he becomes a whimpering and howling mess. It was during one of these times that he revealed how much he liked the idea of you breeding him.

He was face down and ass up, your fingers digging into the soft flesh of his hips as you set a brutal pace. You reveled in the sounds he made when he was like this, and you kept egging him on with the filth dripping from your mouth. You’d made some pointed comments about how much he loved taking you, how you wished you could spill inside of him and watch as it dripped out of his used hole. At that, he’d let out a strangled groan and began to come apart around you.

Knowing he had more than one round in him, you’d started to gently tease him about why that had brought him over the edge so quickly - unashamed, he simply replied that the thought of you knocking him up was super hot. You’d laughed, because Beej that’s not possible, but he’d just shrugged and reminded you that kinks and fantasies don’t have to be possible to be fun. After that, you both loved to play out this fantasy.

- After a chance discovery online, you decide to surprise Beej with a new strap-on that can hold and “come” lube. You make sure that you get the package delivered when he’s over at the deetzlands, and hide it for the next time you have an evening together.

You make sure to take your time fingering him open, leaving him pliant and squirming beneath you. You then make sure to show off your new toy, explaining that you’re going to use it to fuck a baby into him, but you don’t tell him about its secret surprise inside. His eyes, already dark, go unnaturally wide, and he nods enthusiastically while grabbing at your hips. You turn him into a drooling mess, fucking him nice and deep until he’s nearing his peak, then you press the release button and let your “seed” flood out. This drives him over the edge, a surprised and very loud cry dragged out of him as he comes in thick ropes across his belly.

Once he’s coherent enough, you show him how the toy works, and you can bet he’ll be begging you to use it regularly ;)

- Normally this type of fantasy is just for fun - it’s hot, and you enjoy yourselves - but on occasion this turns into a way to reassure him that you’re not going anywhere when he has a bad day.

Initially it wasn’t planned - you’d come home to a very melancholy and very purple Beetlejuice, and all he’d wanted was to have you as close to him as possible. When he’d quietly asked you to fuck him, you’d simply grabbed whatever was closest to your harness and started to work him open. When you both realized you’d grabbed your “special” toy you’d moved to grab a different one, but a quick grip of your wrist kept you in place. Understanding what it was he really wanted, you’d happily gone along with the fantasy-slash-comfort sex. You’d whispered promises about staying with him, never specifying anything but letting him live in the fantasy of such a permanent tie between you two.

After that, whenever he would ask you to fuck him during a purple day, you’d offer him the choice of which toy to use. Most of the time he chose one of your normal toys, or he’d leave it up to you, and you’d know that that fantasy wasn’t what he needed right then. If and when he chose the special toy, you’d always be sure to show him exactly how much it meant that he trusted you to do this.

Beetlejuice Breeding Y/N:

- I think the first time you both try out this fantasy, he’d immediately start pressing most of his weight down onto you to keep your body covered beneath his. If you grumble at getting squished, he’d growl out something about trying to keep you safe and away from prying eyes. In the netherworld, there’s very little privacy and very few safe places away from other demons who would want to steal his sweet breather, and as he really gets into the fantasy it’s hard for him to remember that you’re both safely in the living world where there’s no threat of you being stolen from him.

- When he’s done spilling inside you, he’ll stay right there to make sure none of it slips out. Sometimes this means he stays buried inside of you, waiting until he’s hard again to start pumping a second round into you. Other times, he pulls out but keeps a finger at the ready to push anything dripping out back inside you.

This second option takes some getting used to - he’ll leave you laying on your back with your legs spread wide for him to very dutifully watch with unblinking eyes, waiting for any trace of his come to make itself visible. The first few times he does this, you have to cover your incredibly red face with a pillow and squirm trying to stop yourself from pulling your thighs together. You tried to once, because Beej it’s been like 10 minutes, come on, this is getting embarrassing, but he just shoved his hands between your legs and yanked them back apart. After that, he always kept a second pair of hands on the inside of your thighs, his thick fingers gripping the soft flesh as a reminder to keep them open.

- His favorite position when indulging in this fantasy is your general missionary - he’s a sap at heart, and being able to watch you and kiss you and whisper filthy things into your neck is just too good to pass up. He loves feeling your thighs squeeze around him when you’re close to the edge, and it’s more conducive to the aforementioned points about keeping his come inside of you.

[mysteroads]

🍂🎃THE GRAND FINALE!🎆🎇

A Little Party Never Killed Nobody... but it sure makes 'em scream! A link to the finale chapter of my Halloween-themed fic. (Warning: a dramatic death scene, a dance scene, a 1950s romper, adrenaline-fueled smooching, and a sandworm appear in this chapter.)

Gonna put my favorite scene down here for your viewing pleasure. It's a riot. 😆 Dratted clone totally stole the show, and I absolutely love him.

CHAPTER 7: THE GRAND FINALE

Eyes wide, Lydia and Beetlejuice rushed to the edge of the roof and looked down. One of the windows has exploded outward, unleashing a torrent of… “Is that glow-in-the-dark elephant toothpaste?” Beetlejuice asked, nonplussed. “I thought the witches were making moonshine!”

Below them, they heard more cheering and cries of “More!” and “Again!” 

“The fuck?” Lydia asked, feeling a little out of body. This was a lot in a very short amount of time. Beetlejuice put a steadying arm around her waist, letting her lean on him, so she felt it when he stiffened. “What now?”

“It never rains but it pours,” he groaned. “I just got a message from my clones. I put two on the road to watch for Chuck and Delia.”

Lydia felt herself pale. “Oh shit.”

“Don’t panic,” he told her. “They’re stallin' your parents, and they’re two of my best. They were made for the stage."

~*~

“Hold on, Little Bug!” Delia cradled the blood-splattered clone in her arms as it spasmed in the stark illumination of the headlights. “Stay with us!”

Charles paced back and forth, pulling at his hair, frantic as his wife. “What do we do? What do we do? I can’t call an ambulance! BJ is going to go crazy when he hears I hit one of his clones!” He groaned. “I thought those things couldn’t be hurt!”

Gasping in indignation, Delia clutched the clone to her bosom. In her angel costume –tinsel halo and wings bobbling– it was a fitting image. “He’s not a thing!”

“I know that! But we still can’t take him to the hospital, now can we?!”

The blood-soaked clone jerked out of Delia’s hold, sitting up, reaching toward the moon with one dramatic hand as it clutched its heart with another 

“Ah! No! Don’t go towards the light!” Delia cried, her hands fluttering wildly. “Charles!”

Charles rushed over, knocking his glowing devil horns askew in his haste. Together, they attempted to support the clone’s trembling body as it struggled for life. It stared into nothing, mouthing the word, “Rose…bud…”  

The wail of a siren distracted them all from the death scene. A police car came flying up the road, lights spinning, but did manage to screech to a halt  when they saw the Deetz car. One of the policemen stuck their head out the window. “Everything alright, folks?”

The clone in Delia’s arms glanced toward the back of the Deetz car. Another clone popped into view and gave a double thumbs up. In response, the one covered in blood abandoned its act and sprang to its feet. It gave the policemen and the Deetz a theatrical bow, then bounded into the surrounding foliage. 

Everyone stared after it, then Charles let out a long, long sigh and picked up his fallen devil horns. “Yes, officer, everything is fine. Just some kids playing a not very funny prank.”

The officer nodded, then the car sped away. 

Charles helped Delia to her feet, then they went back to their car. “What was that all about?” Delia wondered, eyes still wide. 

“I’m not sure, but I’m also sure that it wasn’t an accident,” Charles said, and eased the car off the side of the road. The car jerked and groaned, sending their hearts into their throats  again and causing Charles to hit the brakes hard for the second time that night. Immediately after, the car informed them that the back tires were low on pressure. 

The couple exchanged meaningful looks, then stared in the direction the police car had gone. It only just now occurred to them that there were very few houses in that direction. “Definitely not an accident,” Charles said grimly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I know that someone is going to be in a lot of trouble when we get home.”

[calamitycross]

Its been awhile but hey I got some stories left and i don't mind writing a bit....

Dont got a sample yet... But there is something Ive been dying to put out

The Boy And the Wind

Chapter 1: And so He took Flight

[9 years ago...]

Wednesday  4:30 pm on a hill at the end of town

"Yaaawwwn*"

"Whats the matter Lief?"

"Nothing, its just that... Do you ever wonder what itd be like to just leave this place?"

"I haven't the faintest idea"

"Oh come on, You're saying that genius, round and enormous forehead of yours doesn't have dreams?"

He sighs and chuckles before he says

"Ok first off, its not that big and second of course i have "dreams" its just a little bit hard to choose. I wanna be a pilot, doesn't mean that I'm any good. I could be a professor or a doctor, doesn't guarantee I can do it well"

"All Im hearing is that Milo Cryss is a lazy couch potato"

Milo sarcastically replies "Ha ha very funny, anyway what about you? What do you dream of then?"

Lief looks off into the sky

"Ok then... Look around you, what do YOU see Milo?"

"Hmmm, I see  old buildings, some old people and thats about it. What does this have to do with your dream?"

"Its simple Milo, I dont wanna grow old here. People are born here and they die here, I wanna see the world, I wanna feel the wind in my hair and not have to do the same old thing here with you-"

"What's wrong with me?"

"You know what I mean, Its suffocating and I'm not going to be like my parents, I've got bigger dreams than this old town. You get it... Right?"

"I guess-"

Ring!*Ring!*  Ring!*Ring!*

Milo opens his eyes and looks around and slams his arm ferociously to stop his alarm clock.

He takes a few seconds to make sense of what happened

And gets up from his bed and sighs discontently

"I still cant answer you Lief"

[Present Day]

Friday 6:00 am Milo's room

"MILO! You're gonna be late if ya dont get your ass of that damn-"

"Yeah Mom! I know, no need to get profane."

Milo rushes down

"You know you have to wake up early"

"Yes"

"So why dont you wake up early?"

"Yes"

"If you know the answer then do something about it, what happens if I leave you?"

"Now we both know, you love me too much"

Milo's mother simply rolls her eyes and smirks yet sternly, says

"Of course sweetie but you gotta take care of yourself. What would Lief think if she saw you like this?"

Milo simply walks to the door in a hurry

"Mom if its all the same to you, dont bring that up"

And shuts it

Fanfare on television plays as a program plays

"WELCOME! One and All to the biggest fighting stage in the world! Welcome To The Grand Nexus!"

It slowly fades into the distance as Milo passes the window of the furniture shop

I wonder how many people actually buy that?*

Beep*Beep* Beep*Beep*

"Holy- Im really running late!"

"Okay everybody! Settle down" said the teacher to the roaring classroom. With no effect he tries a different approach.

"Okay..." he steps on to his chair and props himself onto the table

"If there is anymore noise by the time this eraser hits the ground! One of you will be selected to recite a poem made by... Miss Faye"

The students stopped at the sound of her name and scrambled to their seats

What followed in the next few seconds was silence, completely dead silence

"Huh, if thats all it takes then I'm going to be makimg this threat more often. Now allow me to introduce myself, My name is Mel S. Robert but you may call me Mr. Mel"

In unison "Good morning, Mr. Mel"

"Now If you dont mind I'd like to take attendance, If I call your name raise your hand. I want to remember your face in case I forget your name, now... Alvin Mint?"

"Here!"

One by one Mr. Mel called on his students

Tap* Tap* Tap* Tap*

"Luna Comb?"

"Present!"

Tap* Tap* Tap* Tap*

"Milo Cryss? Is there a Milo Cryss here?"

Tap* Tap*

"No Milo Cryss? Anyone at all? -"

Knock*Knock*

"Who is it?"

"Its Milo Cryss! Im sorry Im late!"

Its like Beetlejuice, you say his name too many times and poof waddya know?*

"You may come in Milo"

"Thank you so much- who are you? Wheres miss Lowell?"

"Oh Im sorry, Miss Lowell was transferred. Im her replacement, You may call me Mr. Mel"

"Well ok then"

"If thats all please head to your seat, I have a schedule to keep and an announcement to make"

Milo hurriedly takes his seat at the back

"Very good. Ok then speaking of transfers we were supposed to have a new student joining us but it seems she's not here, so just in case, I will tell you about her. Her name is Laura Alder she's 16 from Canada and when she's here you can ask her about everything else. Now! Lets begin shall we?"

Class went on as normal... Im still wondering if I can answer Lief's question. How long has it been? -

"Mr. Milo? Mr. Milo!"

"Who? Huh what?"

"Class is done, schools over, but Im a little concerned if you were listening. You were paying attention, right?"

"Uh..."

"You're hesitation astounds me Mr. Milo, no matter since its my first day and I dont wamma send anyone to detention, you have my mercy."

"Thank you"

"However... You are the last one here so, in return for my mercy i want you to clean this place up a bit. Nothing too fancy, just rearrange the chairs and tables and sweep the floor"

"Sounds fair enough. I'll do it"

"Thank you, dont expect me to be this forgiving next time. I encourage you to at least make an effort like everyone else Mr. Milo. I'd hate for even one person to fail my class especially if my class is the easiest compared to the others"

"I'll try Mr. Mel"

"Oh right its Mr. Robert now, yes a student pointed out that I shared the same name with one Mr. Mel Gunther. So to avoid confusion I prefer you call me Mr. Robert"

"Ok then, Mr. Robert"

"Very good, Well then I'll be off. The janitor will probably be here late since the other rooms are also in need of cleaning. He'll lock up once you're done"

"Thanks for the heads up Sir"

The day was done yet Milo was left behind to clean although it didn't take him long he was feeling rather sleepy again so he finished up sweeping and started to head home

In the hallway however something catches his eye, a girl in a white dress runs across the end of the hall

"Hello?"

Milo curiously followed this maiden clad in white, he turns his head at the conjoining hallway spinning lefy and right until he sees her dark ebony hair in the stairway

"Hey, hold on!"

He quickly runs down the stairs jumping to skip the last few steps. He runs into the open area in the middle of the school, and sees this beautiful lady in white with dark ebony hair almost shining with the sunset and brown eyes that matches amber like resin underneath the big tree in the middle of the school.

"Hello?"

"Hi! Been a while silly!"

"Lief...? Lief is that you?"

Milo moves closer to get a better look and is dumbfounded at the sight of his old friend

"It really is you!"

He runs towards her only to be blown back by a strong gust of wind knocking him on his butt

Woah!*

"I think that's far enough Milo"  She smiles and chuckled lightly

"Ouch, Jeez what the heck was that?"

"It's nothing special so how are you?"

"I could be better. Not the same without you around"

"Aww no adventure in your life?"

"Nope, there's just no one around to make sure that bee's nests dont go unpoked"

"That was fun though, wasn't it?"

"It wasn't, but I dont mind. Why didn't you tell me you came back? There's so much you missed out on!"

Lief's smile slowly disappeared from her face

"Milo, Im not back... Im not even here"

"W- what? What are you talking about? You're here look I can hold you-"

Milo reaches for her hand but his hand phases through

"Milo... Are you still trying to sleep your problems away?"

RING*RING*RING*  RING*RING*RING

Milo wakes up in a cold sweat and hesitates before he puts his hand on the clock, stopping it

"Lief?"

It didn't dawn on Milo at that moment nor did it ever in any point in his life but for a brief second he asked

"What did you want from me?"

Its the morning after and Milo goes on with his day as usual

Wakes up early this time, passes the Furniture shop with the big TV in front, and walks through the gates of school although he hears a whisper this time as He reaches the steps

"Aren't you bored?"

"Hm?"

Milo turns to his left but sees no one, he presses forward into his class and this time he's early

"Ah! Mr. Milo, early this time eh? Looks like you're taking my advice"

"Im trying to Mr. Robert"

"Well thats ok, baby steps turn into giant leaps eventually. What matters is that you are changing Milo!"

"I respect the enthusiasm" Milo said slyly

"Well, everyone please take your seats we have a new student coming in. I believe I already told you so quiet now!"

The students return to their seats in no rush, more calm rather than reluctant Milo simply put his head down to rest for a bit before class

"Great, You may come inside Ms. Alder"

Milo peaked a little just to see who was coming inside, however the first thing that catchea his eye is her dark ebony hair and brown amber eyes, she bares a great resemblance to

"Lief..." he said under his breath

"Care to introduce yourself?"

"Yes, Hello my name is Laura Alder, Im 16 from the UK although I was born in America"

Milo couldn't believe it, she looked so much like her yet it wasn't her exactly he felt his heart pounding, his leg was fidgeting, so antsy that he couldn't stay still. In fact he has drowned out this lady's whole introduction to the class

-Who the hell? How the hell? WHAT the hell? Is all he thought when suddenly

"And thats my story. I moved from Boston when I was 7 to the UK and my parents sent me here so I can live with my Aunt while they work"

"Thats wonderful Laura, now how about you find yourself a seat while I get the projector ready?"

Laura's eyes dart around the room looking for a seat meanwhile in Milo's head

-Not here, not here. Simple just dont make eye contact, its really easy-

"Theres a seat here!"

-Damn it, whats wrong with me?! -

"Thank you"

Laura sits down and looks at Milo

"Thanks for offering me a seat"

Gritting his teeth Milo replies

"Dont mention it" and grins

"Yes very gentlemanly Mr. Milo, now if we're all done todays topic is..."

The day went on as normal and by the end of it Milo looked like he had seen better days his face looked shaded

Laura tapped his shoulder

"Hey! Um, I don't know this school very well. I was hoping you would... Give me a tour?"

Milo knew the right answer for himself, it was no but he couldn't very well leave a person lost in a new environment

"Yeah... Sure uh just let me grab my stuff and we'll walk around till we reach the exit"

"Thats great!"

Ziiiiip! *

"Ok, ready?"

"Yup, lead the way Mr. Tour guide!"

-Oy vey-

Milo gave a brief explanation for each segment of the school

"This what we are on is the second floor obviously, then theres the third floor for the where you'll find the Audio Visual Room or AVR for short, uh the library is also up there it also doubles as kindergarten for the children here. The hallways kind of criss cross so uhm theres the front of the school and back and we go around this little center here"

"This place is enormous!"

"Yup! On the first floor we got the Teachers office, The janitors place and clinic. The fourth floor aint anything special it just has the teachers lounge and a few extra classrooms"

"What are these spaces with Black boards?"

"Those are for students who are behind on certain subjects and this is the exit and entrance, did you get all that? Oh and there are available restrooms on every floor"

"Yeah but I have a question"

"Ok, shoot"

"Did I say something wrong? Or did I leave a bad impression? I just feel like you're... Well, avoiding me I guess?"

"Avoiding you? I just took you on a tour of the school how does that even make sense?"

"That! Right there, you're mad at me but I don't know why"

"Im not mad, just stay out of it will ya?"

"I guess"

Milo knew he acted far and aloof, he knew it wasn't appropriate but he couldn't care less. He was just overwhelmed with Laura's presence and her resemblance to Lief

"Listen, Im sorry. Im going home now"

"O-ok..."

In Laura's head

-Great job you nut! Get a friend, its that simple. Already you you botch the first day by sleeping in and now a kind stranger shows you around your new school and you cant even get his name? -

On her way home she said to herself

"Bollocks... I'll just try again, Im sure I'll get it right next time"

Meanwhile on Milo's side

"Aaauuuughggghhh!" he yells into his pillow

-what was that? I don't think I've ever yelled at anyone. Not even online! Damn that was rude... I need a walk-

Milo grabs his jacket and goes outside for fresh air, hoping to clear his head, he notices that the wind is a little strong tonight

"Its really chilly, thank god I brought my jacket."

-She really did look like Lief though..."

Milo walked for a while and soon finds himself on the hill where he and Lief would relax and talk

"This place is still so empty huh Lief" he said to himself

~ almost as empty as that jar you used to keep under your bed~

"Huh?"

-There it is again-

~Milo looks around trying to find who keeps saying stuff in his ear~

"Hey, whoever you are just come out!"

~Milo~

"This isn't funny"

-Lief?

"Lief if thats you, tell me where you are!"

Milo's head starts spinning yet he cant find anything to link the voice to

~Wind... Take him home

Suddenly, a small breeze picks up between Milo's fingers he feels the wind pushing him forward and finally from his feet...

WHOOOSH*

" Aaaahhhh! Oh my f%#&!# God!!"

Up into the air Milo goes, flailing around helplessly grabbing at imaginary strings he keeps going up and up

"Somebody, please... Help me. Lief..."

He shuts his eyes as he rises to the very height of the clouds and hopes that he is once again only dreaming, until two hands grab his face he hears

"Hey stupid, open your eyes. This is the best part"

Milo pries his eyes open

"Lief?!"

"Correctamundo!"

Milo grabs her close and hugs her tight

"Milo you're choking me..."

"You're alive!-"

"Wrong again, sheesh and I thought you were smart"

Milo looks around him and remembers that he was floating in the air

"Lief..."

"Yes?"

"Dont drop me"

Lief chuckles heartily at Milo's well founded fear

"You wont fall Milo, cant you see where you are?"

Milo stops staring at Lief for a moment and looks around one last time

The clouds clear from underneath his feet and he sees the town, glowing beautifully in the night. Cars and streetlights coloring the roads, he looks up to see a much bigger Moon and lets go of Liefs hands

"Where are we?"

"Thats the town we grew up in, its beautiful isnt it?"

Milo turns to Lief

"Yes, you are"

Lief chuckles

"Ha! Nice try, almost made me feel something"

"Lief, there's something you're not telling me. How are you here? Why are we floating?"

Lief turns to Milo wearing a grim look on her face and rushes towards him burying her face in his chest

"Im sorry Milo... I couldn't make it"

Milo's eyes teared up and as he tries to hug Lief once again she pulls away with her back turned she says

"Forget about me Milo... You can live your life now, Im sorry I got you in to my mess"

"What are you saying? I dont care about your messes, I just miss you"

She turns and smirks...

"If you ever wanna talk, Im always listening"

Next Chapter is in the works~

Find the Title on WEBNOVEL for the rest of the story and keep updated. Feel free to suggest fanfiction and certain kinks i can write about for here😁😁

[shy30somethinglovesdeadthings]

Demon BJ Rescue

The shadows hovering in the room had fallen on her like a spider as soon as she entered, driving her down to the wooden floor. Lydia’s scream of shock was cut off as the shadow formed spindly, long-fingered hands that closed around her throat.

She clawed at her neck, but her fingers passed through the shadows with only slight resistance, like moving through water. She tried to twist her body out from under the massive shape, but the shadow had a surprising heavy, cold weight. Pinning her down. Her vision began to darken as the shadow settled over her face.

"GET OFF HER."

From the corner of Lydia’s eye a huge black shape reared up and collided with the smothering shadow. The weight on her body lifted; she screamed as claws raked down her skin when the thing was knocked away.

Finally she could move. Lydia tried to scramble to her feet but slid back down to her knees, muscles weak as jelly. She dragged herself away instead, pulling her body with her arms, not stopping until she hit the wall in the farthest corner of the room and could go no further.

The dark shadow was on the ground under a hulking black shape. Lydia's eyes widened. It was humanoid and so dark it was hard for her to make out the details, but it looked like it was covered in a ragged black-and-white striped shroud. Something long and slithery dragged on the ground behind it as it brought massive hands tipped with blood-colored claws down on the shadow pinned under it. A deep, guttural snarl came from its throat. Its hands hit the shadow with a loud, wet, smacking noise, like the sound of Delia thwacking steaks in the kitchen with a meat tenderizer.

When the hulk paused in its process, the shadow was not moving. It peered down at the thing, then its head swung around and fixed pure white lamplight eyes on the corner where Lydia slumped.

She couldn't help but tense. The hulking beast was so large that it seemed to take up half of the room, and being the focus of something that large made some survival instinct scream in the back of her mind.

The beast gave a displeased howl as the shadow suddenly sprang back to life, squirming out from under its massive claws. But the beast was obviously a threat, because it didn't stick around. It screeched like a banshee, something that might have been words, some threat or promise to return, or just a wordless wail of frustration.

The shadow thing fled and the beast didn't make any move to chase it. The door to the room was flung open on a sudden wind and then it was gone.

Slowly the headlight eyes swung back to focus on Lydia. She whimpered and tried to gather her legs under her as it started toward her.

With each step, the beast's form started to waver and collaps in on itself, leaving the striped shroud looking like a collapsed circus tent. From beneath the shroud a familiar head and shoulders emerged, and the whole thing faded away as Beetlejuice took another hesitant step toward her.

"Lydia?" His voice was more subdued than she had ever heard it before, a quiver of emotion underneath.

She tried to speak but her throat felt like something was lodged inside.

He took another step but stopped just short of being able to reach her. His hands were clasped around each other in front of him. "I, uh, I... didn't want you to see me like that..."

Lydia felt the obstruction in her throat sink into her chest and shatter. Sobbing, she threw herself forward into Beetlejuice's arms.

Beetlejuice was still for a moment, and then awkwardly clutched her to him, holding her as tightly as she was holding him. He smelled terrible, but she couldn't focus on anything other than the sobs wracking her frame and gasping air into her lungs. She had never felt fear like that before.

For once, he didn't speak. He held her and let her cry and shake.

[wisdomofthegecko]

A/N: This is a short scene for my main character's backstory for the book I'm slowly writing. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated.

Summary: Clara has decided to go on a date with James, or rather has invited James to her house for a date, not realizing what this means to change the rest of her life.

661 words

I rubbed a little Aphrodite’s Love oil behind my ears. Giving myself one last look over before my date knocked at my door. Fiddling with the lid, I finally closed the bottle before setting it back in its respective box and rushed to the door, plastering on my happiest smile as I opened it. “Hi James, come in.” He returned my smile as he walked inside and followed me into the living room.  

“You do have a plan for the night, right?” He smirked as he looked me up and down from the couch.

“Of course, I was thinking we could order some pizza and watch something like Beetlejuice. Would you be into that or are you not into that kind of movie?”

“No, that sounds good. I haven’t watched that movie in a good few years anyway, besides Fall just started and it sounds like a nice little way to bring in the season! Where are we ordering from?”

Reaching over, I snagged a few books from the coffee table and set them on the floor under the table before opening it and pulling out different pizzeria menus and setting them on the couch between James and me. “Okay, so my favorite is Milanese.” I passed the Milanese menu towards him before sorting out the others.

“How about Tucci’s Pizza? I haven’t eaten there yet, but some of my pals have said they have amazing pizza.” He asked after a few minutes of looking through menus and handed me the green and white one.

“Wow, yeah. I only tried them for the first time like two weeks ago. I went there on my day off with a friend and they were delicious. Two pizzas, what toppings do you like?”

“Sausage and peppers are a necessity for me, but can you ask for no garlic?”

“Yeah, of course.” James went to the bathroom as I ordered the pizza before I started gathering drinks, cups, and napkins to line the coffee table for our date.

Once we were all set up for the night, James and I settled on the couch again, less space between us this time and Beetlejuice began. We were about fifteen minutes in before the pizza boy knocked at the door. Digging through my purse, I found the money and paid him. As I shut the door, I headed to the kitchen and set one pizza on the kitchen table and another at the counter before setting a slice on each plate and bringing them out to the living room.

Taking my spot back, I set the pizza on the coffee table and took a sip of my drink before letting myself sink into the soft green couch. “I forget every time how special of a place this movie has in my heart.”  

I set my plate on the coffee table after downing a few slices and reclined back into the couch again as James wrapped an arm around me. Leaning into his body, my eyes slowly drooped until I was half asleep and felt him move.

No more noise from the TV, he must’ve paused the movie. The thought came minutes later and I knew it was late, but for some reason my brain just wasn’t working. I knew I needed to pull myself off him but my body wasn’t listening, like something else was in control. Some hair was brushed behind my ear before a cold finger laid on my neck, cold enough to jolt me out of my stupor.

Gasping, I jumped from the couch, falling on the floor. James offered me his hand, which I shakily took. “Why are you so cold?”

He smiled wide, exposing his two fangs. “I think by now you have a pretty good idea of why my touch is cold. Don’t worry Clara, it’ll be over very soon for you.” He pulled me towards him, holding me tightly as his fangs sank deeply into the side of my neck.

[thewaybackcloset]

Black Market Vintage

📍347 Queen St. W 2nd floor, Toronto, ON M5V 2A4, Canada

Voted Toronto's Best Vintage Store, Black Market is nestled between two corporate retailers, Zara and Aldo. It just screams Beetlejuice sand worms with its black and white vortex beckoning you to come. Find vintage dead-stock, furnishings, antique salvages, and soooo much vintage clothing. Theres also a couple of knock-off designer hats and accessories near the front, if you know, you wanna pretend to be boujie like me...

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Stunning Glam Goth House in San Francisco, California knocks your socks off.

Check this out- all the woodwork is black, against shiny, stark white. The home was built in 1933 and is on the market for a mere $15M. Shoot. 

What a sitting room. Look at the display cases for all your collections.

All I see everywhere for summer is black & white stripes ever since “Beetlejuice, The Musical” came out. It’s finally back on Broadway now that New York City theaters reopened. 

This black & green bar is gorgeous- the perfect shade of emerald. 

The marble on that fireplace! And, look at the built-in china cabinets.

This kitchen - I don’t even mind that it’s white.

For every day dining. Geesh.

Wait, you feel like a darker vibe? Have dinner here, then.

Play pool and use this bar, instead.

Watch TV in here.

Then, go up to the bedrooms.

The main bedroom is huge.

And, it has its own movie room.

En suite.

Big secondary rooms- one even has a giant window seat.

Love the shiny tiles.

Classy lady office.

Quite an extensive gym.

Of course, there’s beautiful outdoor space.

via gothic home decor enthusiasts and for the love of old houses

[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. 

[biggest-stupidhead]

Hiiii lovely ♥️

Congratulations on 800 followers! So happy for you ☺️ I was wondering for the October request celebration if I could make a Levi request? Butttt if you’re tired of writing tons of Levi fic, I would also love your take on Jean if you don’t mind :)

Anyway, here’s the plot LOL. The Scouts throw a Halloween costume party & it just so happens that the F reader & Levi’s costumes go together (it can be modern or not, your choice). That the reader wasn’t even sure if he was going to go, let alone dress up. Maybe the reader has too much to drink & Levi takes care of her/she gets the courage to tell Levi about her feelings. And that they’ve both been crushing on one another prior to the party & the story ends with some fluff! Hopefully that was clear enough ♥️ Biggest fan of your work & I would love to see you do this!

AN: This took me a min, last week was midterms for me so I apologize for the delay. But this was fun to write, I did a bit of both Levi and Jean for you to spice things up a bit ;)

Summary: You want more from Levi, and you're going to get it even if it means finding it with someone else. Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: drug use, alcohol, kissing, choking, heavy petting, angst.

_______

The air was crisp and thin with the promise of fall on its breath. The trees shook in the wind, leaves long gone, littering the ground in an array of golden brown. Tree limbs rattled as they knocked against each other, like the sound of old bones.

The seasons had changed and with it came the time of the spirits, the day that ghosts and goblins roamed the earth when the veil between the living and the dead is said to be at its thinnest. You had always loved Halloween, the lore behind it, and the promise of tricks and treats. Even now as a young adult you never fail to dress up and get absolutely plastered.

This year would be no different, however, you were determined to see that a certain someone joined you in the festivities. Levi was stubborn and hated to relent, even to you who it was said he had a soft spot for.

The whole month of October you had pleaded for him to dress up with you, a costume that you had bought the very first week that Spirit Halloween had opened its doors. Now it was the week before the 31st and you were trying every trick in the book to persuade him. You brought him his favorite teas, made him his favorite lemon tarts, you even cleaned your messy apartment for him! What more could he ask from you? You had finally given up hope of him dressing up, choosing to leave the Gomez Addams costume on his bed when he was out doing homework at the library.

You spent that week gathering the finishing touches for your costume, the dress, and the makeup. By the time Saturday rolled around, you were satisfied with the outcome of your hard work. You had found the perfect wig and the perfect black dress that reached your ankles with slits up the thighs allowing you to show off the garters that you had bought. The makeup was more challenging, you had to seek help from Mikasa when you needed the eyeliner done, she also went ahead and did the eyeshadow for you. You looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled at your reflection, the red lipstick outlining your lips made your teeth look stark white.

Mikasa stood next to you, her hair stiff with all of the hairspray you had sprayed onto it. She wore a black puffy dress straight from the eighties, along with a frilly choker and dark eyeshadow. She made a perfect Lydia and Eren was going as Beetlejuice, you hoped that Connie had used the green hair dye correctly so it wouldn’t last longer than the weekend. The two of you left to meet up at Eren and Jean’s dorm to pregame before the frat party.

The room was crammed with bodies already, Sasha and Connie were Shaggy and Scooby, Ymir and Historia were going as a classic devil angel duo. Jean was dressed as the Joker, his face painted white with some impressive special effects makeup to make it look like his mouth was cut. Armin was dressed as cupid, which you found hilarious, the fake wings on his back kept getting jostled as people brushed past him. You all knocked back some shots before pulling on coats and making the hike up the hill that all of the frat houses were perched on.

The sidewalks were filled with people all dressed in various costumes, most of them were waiting in line hoping to get into Erwin’s frat, the biggest house on the block. Your group bypassed the line and went around the back as Erwin had instructed, the man at the back let you in, it was Mike. He was dressed like a dog, in a furry bodysuit with a pair of ears on top of his head.

The music was deafening, a Halloween playlist by the sounds of it. In the center of the living room was a game of beer pong, the hardwood floors already sticky with spilled beer. You stuck with your group, weaving through bodies, most dressed in scandalous costumes.

You made it to the kitchen, an array of alcoholic beverages lined up sloppily on the counter. Ymir was mixing rum and coke, Sasha was ladling out punch, gummies floating in the liquid. Connie was pulling out a ziploc baggie, buds of weed inside ready to be ground.

Eren dug into his pocket and pulled out some wrappers and a grinder. Mikasa was laughing over shots with Historia and Armin, their cheeks already flushing from the alcohol. You knocked back a shot and grinned as you watched Connie and Eren fuss over the weed. The group shuffled out of the kitchen once the weed was properly ground and found yourselves a spot in the basement where the crowd was thinnest. Connie took the first hit, a dopey grin on his face as he passed it off to Sasha to his right. The blunt worked its way around the group a few times before burning out. By the time you had finished it, the basement was shrouded in smoke and you were all laughing at something Ymir had said.

“I’m going to go upstairs and grab another drink.” You told them, smoothing out your dress as you stood. They all said something in acknowledgment before turning their focus back onto the conversation. You climbed the creaky stairs and reentered the party, your perception felt off, vision clouded, and your mind moving slowly. You managed to grab yourself a white claw without interruption, but once you turned to leave you were stopped by a hand.

“You look so sexy!” It was Hange, their hand was clamped tightly over your shoulder and you smiled warmly at them.

“Thanks! You look….” You weren’t sure what to say at first, their costume was loud, to say the least, they seemed to be a mad scientist. A large white lab coat that was spattered in blood, a pair of yellow gloves pulled over their hands, and goggles that were perched over their messy ponytail.

“Fabulous I know.” They grinned wickedly and you laughed as they snapped the glove against their forearm.

“I was going to say normal, you look like you would any given day.” You teased and they feigned a hurt expression.

“I’ll pretend that you didn’t just say that.” They steered you towards the jumble of dancing bodies and you yelped in protest.

“The reason I grabbed you is that someone is asking for you.” They answered your unspoken question, so you let them guide you through the throng of bodies towards the front door. There you saw Erwin, he was dressed like a zombie, fake blood staining his neck where he had some special effects makeup. Once you got closer, you recognized Levi. He was wearing the costume you had picked out for him, but he didn’t look happy about it. His hair was slicked back and the suit he wore was pristine. His dark eyes met yours and you tried to keep the excitement off of your features.

“Found her!” Hange shoved you forward like a prize, their voice light and almost sing-songy.

“Wow, Levi I didn’t think you would make it.” You commented, and Levi scowled at you.

“I didn’t either,” Levi grumbled, shooting a withering look to both Hange and Erwin who shared a mischievous grin.

“Well, you’re here now!” Erwin clapped him on the back and then slipped away into the crowd, when you looked behind you it seemed that Hange had also made a sneaky exit.

“Do you want a drink?” You asked him, stepping closer to him and his nose crinkled in disgust. You reeked of weed, he shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off.

“Isn’t being here enough?” He spat and you flinched, recoiling and glaring at him.

“If that’s how you feel.” You grumbled, turning and stalking back into the crowd. He watched you go, particularly the way the dress hugged your hips and exposed your thighs with each step. He didn’t want to follow you just yet, first, he would go find Erwin and give him a stern talking to.

_____

You made it back to the basement unharmed and dropped onto the floor next to Jean, your shoulder pressed against his. He looked at you and smirked, his hand coming to rest on the top of your knee. This was fine, you needed a distraction right about now, you should’ve known that Levi would be an asshole. He only ever seemed to need you around when he was horny anyway. So you let Jean’s hand wander as your friends laughed and lit another blunt, his warm fingers rubbing the inside of your thigh.

You were grateful for the alcohol, it muddied your mind and made it easier to forget the disgust on Levi’s face when you came near him. You wondered if he was embarrassed by being seen with an underclassman, or maybe he just saw you as a whore, a hole to use. When the others left for another round of drinks you let Jean pull you into his lap, his strong arms wrapped around you.

He wasn’t embarrassed of you, he was all too eager to meet your receptiveness to his actions. He was speaking softly in your ear, and you enjoyed the way his breath made your skin tingle. You grew tired of his small talk, his hands still wandering up and down your legs. So you turned and brushed your lips against his when he stopped talking, you could feel the white face paint and the red fake blood rubbing off of his skin and onto your lips. His kiss was softer than Levi’s almost unsure, but eager nonetheless. You soon realized that you were the one calling the shots, so you turned and straddled his lap, your legs caging him in. His hands were in your hair now, tugging gently as he worked his lips against yours. He pulled away with a soft smack of his lips and let out a slow sigh. His breath fanning over your face.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all semester.” He mumbled as you tried to catch his mouth once more, you weren’t particularly interested in what he had to say at this moment. His hands were rubbing circles on your sides through the thin fabric of your dress. He seemed starved, it felt as if he was trying to devour you, and you felt needed. Appreciated, you felt as if you were desired, and Jean was hardly ashamed of you, hell you were sitting in the middle of the living room in the basement.

Just as Jean’s large warm hands slid up under your dress, you felt a cold hand grip the back of your neck, prying you apart from Jean. You yelped and Jean gripped on tighter to your thighs, his nails leaving crescent marks.

“Get up.” As good as Jean had made you feel, nothing compared to hearing Levi’s commanding voice in your ear. So you scrambled off of Jean’s lap, the poor boy looked hurt and confused. But those emotions were fleeting, soon changing to a look of anger.

Levi’s grip remained on the back of your neck, icy fingers holding you firmly as you stumbled to your feet. Your head was spinning, your mind groggy from the weed and shots that you had taken. Levi pulled you back roughly, forcing your back against his chest, you closed your eyes, savoring the scent of his shampoo and the hot puffs of air that escaped his nose.

“We’re leaving.” He wasn’t talking to Jean, he was talking to you and you alone. Before Jean could even get in a word of protest, Levi had shifted his grip on you to your bicep and steered you towards the door. You staggered alongside him, leaning onto him not necessarily because you needed the support, you liked feeling him close.

The two of you escaped out of the back door, the night air had a sobering effect. The cool breeze soaked right through your dress as you marched back towards Levi’s apartment a few blocks away. You passed plenty of young college students along the way, all dressed in scandalous costumes. Once you made it back into his building and into his apartment, Levi finally spoke. He threw you down onto his sofa, and you groaned when your head hit the armrest.

“Ow, why so rough?” You whimpered and he scowled down at you through narrowed eyes.

“What’s your problem?” You tried again when he still said nothing, instead he leaned in, his knee planted between your spread legs. His breath fanned across your face, transfixing you with thoughts of his lips on yours. You tried to lean in and catch his bottom lip, but his cold hand closed around your slender throat, pinning you back to the couch.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but it’s a game you will surely lose.” Levi’s words were smooth, lacking emotion. You swallowed thickly and you knew that he could feel the action.

“I’m not playing games.” You lied, and his brows furrowed.

“Lying now are we?” He growled, his hand closing off your airway, and you let out a sharp exhale.

“I thought we had a deal.” Levi continued, seeing that you weren’t able to speak.

“I don’t like to share (Y/n).” Levi’s hand relaxed on your throat and you knew that he expected an answer now. You sucked in a deep breath, eyes lidded and mouth hanging open.

“I’m not some whore you can use.” You snarled, and you got the brief satisfaction of shock passing over his features.

“That’s exactly what you’re acting like.” Levi’s knee crept forward, now dangerously close to your crotch. You wiggled, hoping to meet him halfway, but he saw right through you, his hand closing down around your throat once more to keep you in place.

“Then I’m your whore, Levi.” Tears were beginning to threaten to spill past your lashes, due to the frustration of needing him mixed with the emotions you felt that came with your rocky relationship.

“Then why were you kissing Jean?” He asked and you whimpered pathetically.

“Because I wanted to feel needed.” You whined and his hand released your neck, favoring to splay out across your chest, feeling the rapid beating of your heart.

“Why don’t you…” He stopped mid-sentence, you knew that he wasn’t one to speak on his emotions so you waited patiently.

“Why don’t you feel needed with me?” He finally forced the words from his mouth and you sighed with relief, this is what you wanted. You wanted to tell him how you felt without seeming too needy.

“I want to be more than your fuckbuddy Levi.” You spoke bluntly and you saw his brow quirk up as he played with the neckline of your dress.

“So you nearly fucked Jean because of this?” He chose his words carefully, and you knew that you had gone about this situation wrongly, but hey you were here now.

“Yes, because I thought that if you wouldn’t give me what I wanted, then I would find it elsewhere.” You watched the shock pass his features once more, but this time you felt little pleasure in seeing it.

“I’ll give you what you want,” Levi said after a moment of silence, he leaned forward and kissed you. It was softer than the way that Jean kissed you earlier, his lips moving slowly as if trying to memorize the feeling of your lips on his. He had never kissed you this way before, his hands in your hair and cradling your face like something precious, not like a toy to use.

When you pulled apart you pressed your forehead to his, breaths mingling sweetly. He sighed deeply, his eyes still close, long lashes brushing his cheeks. You ran your hands through his hair, feeling the slightly crusted gel that he had used for his costume.

“I don’t want to see you with anyone else.” He grumbled, lips brushing yours as he spoke softly.

“I don’t want to be with anyone else.” You mumbled, tilting your head to kiss him once more.

[obsessive-ego]

Don't be a tease lol tell us what the Beej smut idea is

Okay here we go

So this is a toonjuice porn without plot idea yeah

Warning, super cringe and silly

So we know woth toonjuice, his body parts can have mind's of their own at times yeah? Like when his feet were sick of his nonsense and left him, or when his head detaches from his body, the body is capable of acting/thinking/talking on its own

So

Which brings me to his dick

This would take place during the relationship, and before sex, conversations of intimacy have been held, all the while toonjuice is sweating profusely and tugging at his collar, incredibly excited, but also super nervous

Y/n and beej would be in the roadhouse, sitting on the couch, watching some cheesy netherworld horror movie. Beej would make the cliché move of yawning loudly and stretching his arms to pull y/n closer. Cuddling close, the sounds of muffled chatter can be herd, which at first is brushed off, but it continues until beej nudges you off and sits up straight

"Would ya knock it off?! I'm trying to set a mood here!" The ghoul looks down, shouting at his crotch

You look over to the noticeable bulge, alittle shocked about its size, and before you can interject about what the issue was, his fly unzips and his dick is now in full view

"Ah-" was all you managed to say as the member, now with a bizarre face, turns its attention to you

It whistles "hello y/n, nice to finally put a face to the name, I tell ya, I've herd so much about ya, this creep can't keep his hands off me when he thinks of you-"

Beetlejuice, incredibly embarrassed about his own body, ratting him out, tries to shove his dick back in his pants, grunting and growling.

"What's the rush beetlejerk? You wanted me to meet y/n. More importantly, you want me to meet Mr vagina♡" Beetlejuice's hips buck forward closure to you with that statement, the ghoul fumbling forward and clumsily pinning you beneath him, he gives a embarrassed chuckle and a soft "Hey, how's it going babes"

"Come on, babes, I'm drooling with excitement, I'm dying to meet Mr V" his cock barks as it presses itself against your clothed crotch

This whole thing was so weird, and not how you imagine your first time together, but yet, it was exciting, it a way

...

So yeah

That's the idea lol

[thegoosewiththemost]

Haunting - Part 3

Summary: You summon BJ for the first time.

Read Part 2 here

Read Part 4 here

Betelgeuse fiddled nervously in his incorporeal form as he watched his human with keen interest. He had turned himself invisible to them ever since that night he had pushed them over the edge of reason, confident that he had made enough of an impression that I would only be a matter of time before they would come RUNNING back to him and summon him once and for all.

A month passed. A second one flew by even faster but there was no sign that he would be called on. In fact, his breather seemed to be enjoying the peace and quiet that he had left in the wake of his dramatic exit. His quaint little calling card that he had given them had been binned along with the remaining flyers that they cleared from around the house in a spontaneous spring clean. Maybe he had miscalculated this time.

Distance was meant to make the heart grow fonder, not make his human say “good riddance”.

It almost disturbed him to see how someone could live such a mundane life and still be happy, but at the same time he was obsessed with the idea of living.

He was nearing the point where he was determined to start providing some more external encouragement, but he soon discovered he didn’t need to. The moment he heard the dull sound of wood splintering off as a crowbar gouged its way into the gap between door and its frame. A final shove and a tired creak sighed out as the door gave up its resistance, swinging slowly open on protesting hinges, allowing the home intruder in.

Betelgeuse waited on standby with baited breath. He should warn them, but if he did would they suspect him of foul play?

A muffled call from within the bathroom came out, “Betelgeuse? Is that you?”

The sound of his breather turning off the water in the shower alerted both him and this soon-to-be-unfortunate burglar to the high stakes of the showdown that would inevitably happen.

The click of a gun being loaded set off a thought in his calculating mind. This could only go one of two ways if he didn’t act now, one of which would be rather sticky and unfortunate for both himself and his breather. He needed to act fast too. In his half existing ghostly form, he didn’t have the power to stop anything from happening to his human and he couldn’t let them die. Not yet anyways.

He came bounding through the walls and straight into the shower behind them without any decorum, “There’s someone in the house with a gun, you should summon me to deal with them.”

You let out a shrill scream as you turned around to suddenly find his face inches from yours, green with rot and hollowed. half trying to cover yourself up at the sudden intrusion and at the same time knocking the bottles of soap off the edge of their holders and into the shower. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU YOU THINK YOURE DOING???”

Beetlejuice tried unsuccessfully to clamp his hand over your mouth, only for his fingers to phase through your lips, plucking a shiver from them as the chill ran through your body.

“SHHHHH!! Weren’t you listening to what I said? There’s an intruder inside your house. Right now! With a gun!”

“Are you sure you’re not the intruder? Because I feel like my privacy had been violated in more ways than one.”

Beetlejuice could sense the shift in the heavy near-silence outside the door to the bathroom.

“They’re outside. Be very quiet. Summon me. I can’t help you until you call my name.”

“How do I know this isn’t one of your tricks?”

”Unless you want to see them come through the door, you’ll have to take my word for it.”

The squeak of rubber soles against the floor beyond the safety of the door set alarm bells ringing in your head. For once, you were truly afraid of facing the possibility of death. You weren’t ready to go. The blood drained from your face and your limbs felt heavy and cold as the water on your skin cooled down into something akin to icy sweat.

You watched as an experimental twist of the doorknob this way and that appeared to have given up. But the sudden kick at the door made you jump. Someone was very desperate to get in. The situation escalated in your mind rapidly as you thought about the slimming chance of survival. They must have heard your scream and assumed that you had seen their face and hidden yourself. It would only be logical for them to try to remove any potential witnesses. And there you were, naked as the day you were born and completely defenseless in the shower. What a way to go, you thought ironically.

The door bowed against its frame under the strength that it was put under, threatening to swing open any moment.

“Call me!” The words resounded in your mind, more urgent and insistent I than ever.

There wasn’t much of a choice to make. It was a life or death situation.

You had nothing to lose.

Taking in a steady breath, unsure of what summoning a demon could do, you said his name.

“Betelgeuse.”

You tested the name on your lips quickly. There was a tension in the room that bordered on being electric. Even the air around you felt somehow more solid that it had been before.

“That’s it, babes. Two more times now.” His thrown voice purred in your ear, instructing you along.

“Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse!”

You finished rapidly as the door gave way.

“Yesss!”

The voice in your head sounded clearer, substantial.

Distantly you heard the cocking of a gun and the silhouette of a man concealed by the sudden burst of green smoke in the middle of the bathroom. His deep growling laughter followed his entrance, corporeal now. More powerful.

“It’s showtime!”

[wizisbored]

WIAT WIAT- show these sketches pls I’m interested.

ok gang its Dragon Time. i will say that though this is a dragon au only beej and lydia are actually dragons. lydia ive mostly based off that image you sent and will probably cement the design im going to use later, beetlejuice i have a few ideas of roughly what he'll look like but i need to put some more work into designing him

anyway,

an explaination:

in this universe i just made up, dormestic dragons are kinda similar to horses in that theyre not very common pets (and are mostly owned by people with a good amount of disposable income) and have specific and sometimes complex care and training needs. there are also feral dragons, though theyre not particularly common either. dragons raised around humans can develop quite good language comprehension, though they dont have the vocal chords to mimic speech.

so onto the plot, which i realise is in a similar vein to a few of my other beetlejuice aus, but i am nothing if not a guy who will unashamedly tell the same story over and over a little to the left :)

emily deetz always loved dragons, and always wanted to raise one from an egg herself. a few years before her health took a turn for the worse her husband bought her a dragon egg, and she named the hatchling lydia and proceeded to absolutely dote on the little creature and put a lot of time and care into ensuring shes looked after and trained well. charles always listened to her talk about lydia and would admire the dragon but mostly from a distance, he was never much of an animal man.

lydia's breed will grow to around the size of a horse, but when emily passes away shes somewhere between the size of a cat and a medium dog and living in the house. charles promised to take over caring for her and tried to use emilys notes and care guides, but hes just not really that great at it. he doesnt have time, he forgets things, its hard to spend so much time around something emily loved so much while hes grieving. and then when he gets into a new relationship, the dragon hates her. all of this makes lydia generally grumpy and aloof, which doesnt help, but charles made a promise and intends to stick with it.

lydia first meets beetlejuice when shes sitting tethered to a perch in the garden. charles doesnt realise that she actually learnt to unclip that particular tether before she could fly, but shes happy enough just chilling on her perch so she doesnt bother. beetlejuice is a feral dragon roughly the size of a pony, and she watches him rather clumsily half-fly, half climb over the garden fence. she obviously asks him what the hell hes doing there (scavenging) and they get to talking. he teases her for having a human's name and being a pet. shes never met a feral dragon before so she unhitches herself from the perch to hop down and get a closer look. hes baffled, asks her why the hell she hasnt escaped by now if she knows how to do that and if her wings have been clipped, and she says she has to stay so she can get food and shelter. he basically laughs at her for that. she has no loyalty to charles but had never considered running away, and with beetlejuice going on about how much better life is as a feral dragon she decides that maybe its not so much of a bad idea and declares that she is now feral, beetlejuice laughs at her again but lets her tag along with him, and suggests they fly somewhere new to avoid her being found.

where ive got up to is them meeting the maitlands - a couple who looked out of the window one morning to see a large scruffy dragon drinking out of their birdbath, and another little one who has knocked down their bird feeder and is now snacking on sunflower seeds. but they notice that the little one is wearing a headcollar, which means 2 things - shes domestic, and someone needs to get that headcollar off her before she grows too much and it cuts into her. and so begins their quest to befriend those feral dragons that keep going through the neighbourhood's bins

[swan--writes]

BJ’s V-Day

In which BJ fucks with reader’s chocolate, and reader is Upset.

It’s still Valentine’s Day in some places, right? Shut up. It’s been a busy day.

Warnings: food, swan-typical language

It started at the coffee shop. (Of course it did.)

You ordered the same coffee that you always did, from the same barista you always saw, but something was different that day. The coffee was darker and colder, and more viscous than usual. It was almost sour, and the way it sloshed around in the paper cup made your stomach churn. When you frowned at the barista who had made it, he gave you a too-wide grin and an unnerving wink. (His teeth were so pointy, was that normal?) You scurried out of the shop and onto the street of your small Connecticut town. You had not been back since.

That was only the first of February.

Next came the florist’s. You had been to the florist every week since you moved to this small town. It was cozy enough that you didn’t feel pressured to place a massive order, and you preferred small business flowers to the grocery store selection. And you loved fresh flowers. (Everybody has their thing, this was yours.)

Now, you would swear that when you chose your bouquet, it was beautiful. The blooms were fresh, the leaves were perky, and the roses were vibrant.

By the time the florist had packaged it for you, it was a red and black mess right out of an early My Chemical Romance music video. Great for art. Kitchen counters? Not as much.

Of course, you were too nice to say anything. You simply had to contend with half-dead roses, wilting on their stems. They were all blackened edges, wrinkled petals, and falling leaves. The florist gave you an even wider grin than the barista had, and you walked out even faster than you had the coffee shop.

It was only day four.

After the roses – which had only lasted two days in your house before the blooms fell dead away (literally) – was the truffles. This was almost your breaking point.

All of the convenience store chocolate was discounted for Valentine’s Day, just five days away now. It was on your way home from work, and you couldn’t force yourself to just drive past it. So, in you went, and there you bought, and then you went home. You had gone through the self-checkout, but one of the cashiers kept giving you sidelong looks.

At the convenience store, you had tried to ignore them, but they were all you could think about when you bit into the first truffle. The chocolate shell was mostly fine, if a touch bitter. The filling was dust. (Literal, actual dust.)

So, like any rational person, you spent the next fifteen minutes gagging over the sink, then grabbed a knife. You sliced clean through every single truffle. Most of them crumbled from the pressure of your knife, and all of them were the same. Truffle after truffle – two full boxes – were all filled with dust.

Well, all but one.

In the center of the second box, there was one truffle that did not crumble. It was densely packed with a thick, old piece of paper. The paper felt leathery between your fingers when you picked it out of the chocolate shell, almost like parchment.

When you saw what was written on it, you all but stabbed your knife through it.

Bad coffee? Okay. Dead flowers? Fine. But nobody fucked with your chocolate and remained in your good graces.

The next five days only upped the ante.

Your trusty diner somehow dropped every single Valentine’s Day éclair on the floor as soon as you arrived. Your supervisor lost her box of valentines before she could hand them out at your office. Your set of Valentine’s decorated mason jars somehow fell from your entertainment center and shattered when you walked by. (A good four feet away from the table, because that made complete sense.) But the final straw came on day fourteen, first thing on Valentine’s Day. (Of course it did.)

When you opened the door to take the trash out, you felt it knock something over. It was mostly dark outside, and you didn’t fully see what it was until you brought it inside. Once you were under proper lighting, you saw that you were holding a black teddy bear about the size of your torso.

When you shook the bear to make sure there was nothing inside, however, the head immediately twisted off and flew away to who knows where? A foul-smelling green slime began oozing from the severed neck. You shrieked and dropped the bear. Slime and wet dirt spilled onto your kitchen floor.

“Oh my--no, y’know what? Fine,” you groused. “Fine! I give up.” You backed away from the decapitated bear and stomped through the kitchen to your living room.

Your house was old, and you could hear the creaking of the floorboards underneath the banging of your steps. You could hear the sizzle of whatever the slime was doing to your kitchen floor. And you could hear the wind that kicked up when you spoke the words from the parchment you had found in your discount truffle.

“Beetlejuice!”

Something in the house groaned – a low, ominous sound.

“Beetlejuice.”

A layer of fog covered your windows. (Several layers.) It crept in at your window corners with a draft, and a gray murk. It nipped at your ankles, and leapt at your wrists, and seemed to amplify the sizzling in your kitchen.

You swallowed. “Beetlejuice!”

Lightning flashed. You closed your eyes, but it didn’t do much good. The wind whipped around you. You tried to turn your face against it, but it was everywhere and coming from all sides. Without thinking, you covered your ears and stumbled back a step.

Then, all at once, it stopped.

When you opened your eyes, you saw your demon boyfriend leaning on the doorjamb with his back to you. Beetlejuice gave a low whistle when he saw the teddy bear he had left you eating a hole in your floorboards.

“Damn babes, you’re gonna have to get someone out here to fix that.”

Rather than humor him, you glared at his back. His suit jacket was barely holding together, and you could see a long, thin strip of his shirt through it. “The mason jars? Really? You know I loved those.”

Without moving his feet, Beetlejuice’s head turned fully around to face you, nose wrinkled in a grimace. “Those cheap old things? C’mon baby, you can find a hundred of them at literally any Purgatory yard sale.” His eyes lit up. “In fact–”

“Oh no, I’ve had enough of that place. And hey, what have you been doing in town this month anyway? You said you’d be tied up until March.”

“Oh I was, sweet cheeks.” Beetlejuice waggled his eyebrows at you. You walked up to him and slapped his arm. “Whoa, babes!” The force of it seemed to radiate through his entire body. (Corpse?) His knees wobbled, his hips jostled, and you could swear you heard rattling from somewhere near his ribcage. “Easy! I’ve been doing a lot of strenuous physical activity this month.”

“Oh yeah? Fucking with me almost every day has been strenuous?”

“Hey, you coulda just summoned me when I asked you to.”

“You didn’t ask, you ruined my bargain-bin chocolate.”

“Oh, forgive me.” You rolled your eyes at his tone.

Beetlejuice turned around on his feet, facing you with his shoulders. Then he groaned, reached up, and spun his head around. “Whoa!” he cried. His head rotated a few times on his neck before finally coming to a stop.

When he brought his hands down again, Beetlejuice was holding the oozing teddy bear’s head. He held it out to you.

“I’m sorry for fucking with you all month.”

You gave him a look, but melted when you saw the pink creeping through the roots of his otherwise green hair. “Fine,” you conceded. “But you owe me.” Against your best self-preserving judgment, you took the stuffed head from him. A few clumps of wet dirt fell from the bottom where it was still severed and onto the floor. You kissed its cheek anyway, and only winced a little from its coldness.

Beetlejuice took the head back, flung it back over his shoulder, wrapped his arms around you, and dipped you. You gave a very undignified squeak that you would never admit to later.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, babes,” he growled.

“Happ--mmf!”

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