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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

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we poured mud through their veins (part one)

the first installment of an au i am in love with

in which a new member joins the Deetz-Maitland family!

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The sky was the color of the ocean- dark, wild, and swallowing everything in its wake. The only thing that could possibly rival its impenetrable wall of thick black-blue were the occasional cracks of blazing lightning that split the roiling clouds like a hot knife. The storm would be cut in half at the flash of its searing glory, then sewed itself back together like a monstrous, watery wound. The wind was so fierce that it seemed to be sent by an enraged being (in which Delia would helpfully say it was “God” or “angels playing bowling”) to punish Winter River for some unruly sin. Water rushed down the streets like baby rivers, threatening to drag anything and anyone in its way down the asphalt with it. Raindrops battered windows and walls and doors, knocking so viciously like an unwanted guest.

An unwanted guest. That was what this damn storm was. And Lydia was at her wit’s end with this elemental stranger.

Her computer crashed for the third time and she finally slammed the lid close, letting out a miserable groan that was soon challenged by a deep rumble of thunder. She cringed, curling her shoulders in, and then sighed.

“Fuck this storm,” She growled.

“Language,” Barbara said from the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Lydia muttered. “Screw this storm.”

Barbara chuckled lovingly. “Better.” She peered over at the closed laptop. “Everything okay?”

“It keeps crashing,” Lydia said miserably. “And I’m finally not procrastinating on doing my essay!”

“You had an essay due?” Adam looked at Lydia sharply, yanking his head out from the spice cabinet.

Lydia smiled innocently. “Maaaybe,” She said. She noticed the stern expression on Adam’s face. “Hey, I’m doing it! So don’t worry!”

“Hmm,” Adam squinted at her suspiciously. “Seems like you planned this.”

“What? Me? Never!” Lydia said.

Barbara laughed again and then turned back to the pot she was stirring. “What’s your essay on?”

“Well, my English class needed to write something that had to do with society or the ecosystem,” Lydia explained. “So I chose to do mine on why the eighth amendment should be abolished!”

Barbara and Adam blinked at her proud expression.

“Reason?” Adam asked.

“If we don’t have the eighth amendment, then we can torture rapists,” Lydia said confidently.

Barbara and Adam then nodded in agreement.

It had been nine months since the whole incident with the ghosts, and it was honestly some of the best months of Lydia’s entire life. Not only did the Maitlands officially become part of the family, but Beetlejuice stuck around, too, becoming Lydia’s chaotic best friend and older brother figure, at least after being properly “housebroken” as her father would describe it. Waking up each morning always greeted her with new mayhem from one of the otherworldly tenants and more things she could learn about them. It was incredible.

They were a family.

“It’s really coming down out there.”

Lydia looked over her shoulder to see Delia standing at the back door, sipping a steaming cup of her weird herbal tea (which tasted disgusting, by the way).

“It’s what you would call ‘Noah’s Arc’,” Barbara said knowingly. Except her ‘knowledgeable�� comment got a weird look from Lydia and a laugh from Adam and Delia.

“Noah’s Arc was the, well, arc, honey,” Adam said. “Not the storm. But nice try.”

“It’s so foggy,” Delia commented. “The river may flood at this rate.”

Foggy.

Fog.

That word always sparked a memory in Lydia’s mind.

The Netherworld.

Lydia remembered the Netherworld clearly.

The air there had been wet and heavy, like she was breathing in a thick fog that stuck to her throat like tar. There was a certain sticky humidity in that dark place, pressing down on her in heavy waves, as if the very atmosphere itself was trying to crush her skull, punishing her for even plucking up the courage to step foot in the place where the Living didn’t belong. It was cold, yet uncomfortably warm at the same time, with no wind blowing to ease the mild heat that had settled its oppressive, sultry murk over the Dead’s civilization. It spilled into every street, every alleyway, every house that dared to open the window, thinking that it would help with the clamminess that fogged their home, but to no avail.

This, of course, had brought upon complete and utter dreariness that coated every Dead making their rounds through their daily lives. And, in reaction to her presence, the gloom tried to wrap its dark protections of the underworld around her in layers that pressed deeply into her skin, trying to become a part of her. It adorned her until she was nearly suffocated in the thick, moist air.

She did not belong there.

The Netherworld had been filled with enough freaks to make a whole circus- a suicidal beauty pageant queen with slashed open wrists, a failed skydiver in a shredded jumpsuit, a lady swathed in a smoldering towel and had hair crackling hair that hugged a toaster to her chest, a charred man who breathed smoke like a great fire dragon, a very confused football player, a man with a huge cleaver lodged in his skull as a sign of his infidelity, a gravely-injured jockey that spit blood when she talked, some kind of hunter with a shrunken head, and a very excitable victim of explosion, among many more that Lydia hadn’t seen. Not that she was surprised at the amount of strange characters in the underworld.

Aside from the beauty pageant queen, the jockey was the Dead that Lydia got to know the most. Even for the short amount of time she was down in the Netherworld , the jockey seemed to grow attached to her, talking to her animatedly as if they had been friends for years and hanging onto her arm like a baby koala would to its mother. She learned that her name was Presley.

And Lydia had to leave Presley behind.

It wasn’t because she wanted to- she had to! Presley said it herself: the living didn’t belong in the Netherworld. But still, it kinda hurt to leave her new friend behind.

But she got over it. And she moved on. And she got a new family that made her completely forget about the undead horse rider.

Lydia’s memories were then interrupted by a terrible crash of thunder that seemed to rip the entire town in half. The sound rang in all of their ears, even causing Lydia to snap her hands up to cover her own, much to her embarrassment, and making Adam phase straight into the drywall of the kitchen in reaction to the shock, and the sonic boom that followed rocked the house from side-to-side.

As the rumble faded and the lights overhead flickered, there was a heavy thud from upstairs.

From Lydia’s room.

Lydia groaned. “That’ll probably be Beej,” She said. “Messing with my stuff. Again. Probably thought the thunder could cover up the sound of him setting some kind of prank.” She turned her head to yell up the staircase as she stood up. “But not this time!”

She heard Barbara, Adam, and Delia laugh as she walked upstairs.

As quietly as possible, Lydia snuck up the stairs and to her bedroom. Inside, she could hear shuffling and a muttering voice.

Someone was in there.

Wanting to scare Beetlejuice for trying to prank her again, she grasped the doorknob, slowly pushed open the door, and peeked in at the demon in her bedroom.

The light from the lamp that she had left on fed into his white and red suit, soaking into the filthy fabric. He kept looking this way and that, the helmet he was wearing shifting against his head, and-- that was not Beetlejuice.

But Lydia did know this person.

White-and-red checkered shirt, white pants, gloves, black riding boots, a helmet with a crack straight down the middle, a crop holstered to narrow hips, old blood and hoofprints all over…

“Presley?!” Lydia yelped out loud, then quickly shut her mouth. She stepped fully into her room and closed the door behind her. A moment later, the undead jockey was in her arms, clinging to her in a way that felt more like how a drowning woman to cling to the side of a boat than a normal hug between reuniting friends.

Except she didn’t feel undead. She felt warm, solid, real…living.

She was living.

But…that shouldn’t have been possible.

“Presley…” Lydia said slowly. “How are you here?”

Presley looked up at her, the rim of her helmet sliding into her eyes slightly, then glanced all around. When she turned her head back up to Lydia, she seemed equally as confused. There was a stream of dried blood trickling down between her eyes and on one side of her nose. There was another scoring her right temple.

“I don’t-- I don’t know,” Presley whispered, and her voice was hoarse and weak. She then sucked in a sharp breath and coughed. Lydia realized this must have been the first time she had breathed in a long while.

“Well, that’s…confusing…” Lydia said. She batted Presley backwards so she would be away from the door. Presley clung onto her arm with one hand like it was her lifeline. “I thought you were dead? Like, really dead?”

“Yeah…” Presley shifted. “I would know.”

Lydia laughed slightly. “What happened? How did this happen?”

Presley shrugged helplessly. “Your guess is as good as mine. I was just sitting in my room, crying, as I usually am, and then I fell asleep and now I’m here!” She looked around. “Nice room, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Lydia said. She glanced at her door. “Okay, well…” She ran a hand through her hair. “This…will cause some issues.”

“Oh.”

Presley took a shuffling step backwards and unholstered her crop, which she began to fidget with nervously. Lydia thought it was strange- wasn’t that the thing that basically caused her untimely demise? How could she be comfortable with even having it on her person after that?

“Sorry…”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Lydia assured her. “How were you supposed to know that you were going to…come back to life?”

“Heh. Yeah.” Presley smiled slightly at her, which then turned into a grimace of pain. “May I sit down?”

“Yeah, of course,” Lydia said, and Presley instantly dropped down to her knees. Her breathing came out strained and ragged. “Are you alright?”

Presley gave her a weak smile, and there was blood in her teeth and blood on her lips and blood on her tongue. “Yeah, yeah… I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Lydia prodded, crouching down in front of her. “You don’t look so good.”

“Well, you know how I died,” Presley said, sitting up from her hunched position. She pressed a hand against the left side of her ribs, wincing. “Wasn’t exactly very, ahh, pretty…” She swallowed.

“Your wounds didn’t heal after you came back to life?” Lydia said. “I guess that’s what we’re calling this. But you didn’t get a fresh new start?”

Presley shook her head. She unbuttoned her jockey uniform and opened up one flap, the cloth making a disgusting peeling sound as it detached from her skin, to reveal the dark black abyss that was her trampled chest. Looking at it, even in the lamp’s golden glow, Lydia couldn’t tell where one wound ended and another wound began. They were all- the bruises and the lacerations and the welts and the hoofprints- melted into one big blemish of agony upon the young jockey’s torso. For a moment, Lydia didn’t even see that she had a sports bra on because the fabric (it had been grey, once upon a time) was completely soaked in blood and blending in with the rest of the mess.

“Unfortunately, no,” Presley closed her shirt. “I suppose it’s a fair trade. Being brought back for a second chance at life, but I have to live with the effects of how I died in the first one. Actually, that isn’t as fair as I thought. My internal organs had definitely been ruptured when--” She stopped talking and looked down at her stomach grimly.

“Well, that…sucks,” Lydia said. She glanced at her door again. How was she going to explain this to her family?

“Lydia!”

And speaking of the devils…

Lydia turned back to Presley. “Ready to meet my family?”

Presley perked up. “Really?”

“You don’t exactly have anywhere else to go,” Lydia said. “And you’re here, aren’t you? One more supernatural being living in our house won’t hurt!”

Presley tilted her head, and her helmet slumped over on her skull with the movement. “There are others?”

Lydia grinned. “Yep,” She said. “I got pretty much the coolest family.”

“Lydia!”

“Coming!” Lydia called back to the voice yelling for her. She looked back at Presley. “I’m going to go talk to them first. I’ll call down for you once they’re ready. Just be cool, okay? They’ll like you.”

At least, she hoped they would. Presley didn’t have anywhere else to go if they didn’t.

Delia, Barbara, Adam, and Charles, who had emerged from his office, were all assembled downstairs, preparing for dinner. Barbara smiled at Lydia when she came down.

“Did you find BJ?” Barbara asked.

“How long did it take to dismantle the prank?” Adam asked, sounding amused.

“What prank?” Beetlejuice materialized beside Charles, nearly making him drop the bowl of spaghetti he had been carrying to the table. He looked at him. “Sorry, Chuck.” He looked back at Lydia. “Now, what about a prank?”

All eyes turned to Lydia, and Lydia couldn’t help but feel like she was being interrogated, which was weird because she hadn’t done anything wrong. The ghost of a jockey who got killed during a race appearing in her bedroom as a living person wasn’t her fault! That was nobody’s fault!

“It turns out there was no prank,” Lydia said.

“Then what fell?” Delia asked.

“Yeah, about that…” Lydia glanced up the staircase. She faintly saw Presley hovering in the hallway. “Remember that one time we went to the Netherworld?”

“Yes,” Charles said. “It was the worst place ever.”

“Oh god,” Beetlejuice said. “Is this another lecture? I already said I’m sorry!”

“No, no, this isn’t about that,” Lydia said quickly. “While I was there, I met this girl. We kinda became friends, but, you know, I had to come back here so I haven’t seen her since.”

“Where is this going?” Adam asked, looking curious and slightly concerned.

“What if I told you guys that my friend came back to life somehow and appeared in my bedroom for no real rhyme or reason but now she’s here and has nowhere else to go?”

The house went quiet. Thunder rumbled outside, as if the very universe itself were laughing about the situation.

And then--

“WHAT?” Adam yelped.

“That can happen?” Delia said at the same time, looking at Beetlejuice.

“I guess!” Beetlejuice yelled.

“Wait, so there’s someone in our house right now?” Charles asked.

“Surprise!” Lydia said weakly. She looked up the staircase. “You can come down now.”

There was shuffling from upstairs; Presley emerged into the light of the open stairwell and staggered her way down the stairs, each step she took being punctuated by a wince. There were several gasps, mainly from Barbara, Delia, and Adam, as she stopped next to Lydia- not that Lydia blamed her family for their reactions.

Presley looked much, much worse in full lightning. Her skin was no longer pale pink like it had been in the Netherworld, rather just pale, as if all the blood was drained from her body and leaving her as an empty shell. Even her lips were completely leached of color. It was impossible to tell if the dark rings around her eyes were from sleep deprivation or were just shiners caused by her death. Her jockey uniform was slathered in a thick caking of mud--and then Lydia realized most of that was just dried blood. Black hoofprints were stamped up and down her chest, stomach, and legs, and some areas of the fabric were ripped, revealing grimy, bruised, and bloodied flesh underneath. The streams of blood down her face and side of her head were completely dried now, crusted over and flaking off. She was squeezing her crop nervously, bright hazel eyes darting everywhere around the house, but she quickly latched onto Lydia’s arm with one of her hands, holding on tightly, similarly to how she did down in the Netherworld when they first met.

“Everyone…” Lydia said to her gaping family. “Meet Presley!”

#i dont know what this au is gonna be called yet #but it's definitely something!#beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice the broadway musical #beetlejuice au #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice fluff #beetlejuice #lydia deetz #barbara maitland #adam maitland #delia deetz #charles deetz #the jockey #we poured mud through their veins

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vicunaburger · 4 years ago

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Admittedly, I’m Hard to See

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical Chapters: 17/? Pairing: Beetlejuice x OC (Holidae) The Players: Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz, Holidae Bell Word Count: 1,924 Warnings: M for Mature Content

Notes: TW: Mentions of Hospitals, Not-Quite Self Harm, Injury

Chapter 17: In Which We Lie by Omission

Toast was a tricky food to master.

Not only did one have to factor in the age and setting of each, individual toaster available, but the thickness of the bread was vital to the equation. There was thin line between “just right” and “burnt offerings”, usually moving from one end of the spectrum to the other in the literal blink of an eye.

Lydia squinted her eyes, peering into the orange glow of the toasting mechanisms, trying to determine the level of toast her bread had achieved. Behind her at the kitchen table, Beetlejuice sat quietly, deep in concentration as he mulled over the newspaper spread out before him. Normally, he could solve the weekly bridge puzzle within a few minutes, but his mind was somewhere else, and the answer was eluding him.

With a soft growl, he erased the notes he had been making in the margins of the puzzle, smacking the bits of eraser off the table with more force than what was needed. The soft scritching of graphite against newsprint started up again, only to be interrupted -again- with muttered curses and furious erasing.

His bestest best friend was town between asking him why he was so irritable that morning, or continuing to monitor her toast situation. Both options were precarious paths to navigate, and both of them could end in misery if she wasn’t being extra careful.

“So… hard hand dealt out this week?” Lydia made the first cautious move, still focused on her breakfast. “It’s always the diamonds that get me. You get week after week without them, and then the whole hand is littered with them. Do you think actual bridge is easier to play? I mean, after you scour the world for two other people that not only know but can play it.”

There was no response from the spectre; not even a sound of half-assed acknowledgement.

Concern overtook caution, and Lydia turned to face the dead silent man at the table. Beej was just staring at the paper now, the pencil being thoroughly chewed to bits within the maw of teeth he sported, the end dangling like a cigarette out of the corner of his mouth. Reaching over the table, she snapped her fingers close to his face, trying to get his attention.

“What did I tell you about eating pencils? Quit- quit doing that! You’re gonna drool all over the table.” The petite woman snatched the pencil away from him, raising her voice a little. “Earth to BJ? You in there today?”

He snapped upright with a frown, licking his teeth free of graphite and wooden splinters like an animal, “Did my little Holly-Jolly have a cat?”

Blinking, she took in his navy blue appearance, the space around him seeming to shift like it was an out of focus photo, “A what- oh god, my toast!”

Lydia plucked the now charred pieces of bread out of the toaster, setting them on a plate as smoke gently wafted into the air. Grumbling, she sat down that the table across from him, grabbing a butter knife and attempting to scrape away the burnt coating.

“A cat? Nah, Holli’s allergic to most animals.” She replied, glancing back at the empty bread box on the counter, “Ugggh, out of bread. Knew I should have sent her to the store…”

“Holidae lied to me.” Beetlejuice’s reply was flat, spoken from low in his chest. “Why would she lie to me, Lyds?”

The crunching of the knife against crispy bread stopped immediately at his use of Holidae’s proper name. Lydia’s brain started clocking a thousand impulses a minute, going through several ways to continue the conversation without endangering herself or the house.

“Okay… okay… we need to back this conversation up really fast because you jumped the tracks on me, buddy.” She continued to work on her breakfast, trying to keep the atmosphere light. “What did she supposedly lie about?”

“The cat,” one clawed finger started picking at a small hole in the tablecloth.

She waited to see if he would elaborate before trying again, “She told you she had a cat? Alright, that’s not a huge offense yet, so what was the context? I can’t answer the question without all the facts, Beej.”

Beetlejuice was tearing the tablecloth now, “We were takin’ a shower-”

Lydia grimaced, “I want you to keep any sleazy, porno-riffic details to yourself, or I won’t help you.”

“Nothin’ happened in the shower.” There was a flash of his usual humor peeking through the distress, but only for a moment. “She’s got these big scar things on her arms so I asked her and she said it was a cat. But if she never had a cat, then she lied right to my face. I lie to other people, sure, but nobody lies to me. Not anymore. No offense.”

“None taken,” she shook her head, sighing heavily. “Unfortunately, this is not an adventure I can lead you on, my friend. I am not in charge of Holli’s personal… things. Don’t ask her about it, don’t mention it again. Forget you saw anything and move along.”

She waved her hand in a Jedi-like fashion, earning her a deeper frown from the ghoul. Exhaling a long breath of air, Lydia stuck an unburnt bit of toast into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. If she just spilled all of Holli’s dirty laundry to BJ, there was a very good chance Holidae would drag her to the third floor and toss her out an open window. If she kept quiet like a church mouse, Beej could very well do the same thing; and truth be told she was not ready to spend an entire afterlife being annoyed by the ghostly guide.

Better the devil you know?

“I will tell you once and only once: you are not allowed followup questions, nor are you allowed to interrupt me for any reason. Capice?” Lydia stuck out her hand for him to shake, knowing tempting him a deal would get him to behave for the time being.

The force at which he smacked his palm against hers, coupled with the grip he took hold of her hand, made her wince in discomfort. She could hear the faint popping sound between her knuckles as he squeezed extra hard, pulling his hand away with an unwavering stare. Lydia rubbed her hand gingerly, pouting as she tried to think of where to even start. Certain tidbits of information could be dangerous if let slip to him by accident; the ghost tended to err on the side of literal meanings of certain idioms or phrasing, which wasn’t helpful when trying to explain a serious topic in a less-serious way.

“Yes, they were self-inflicted. No, they weren’t intentional.” Lydia began, gauging his reaction carefully. “You ever notice that when she gets nervous, she starts to scratch at her skin? Like she’s suddenly itchy?”

The spectre nodded, but kept quiet to honor his ‘no interruptions’ caveat.

“Holli has these… instances where she gets too much into her own head. Not literally. She just starts thinking about different things too much and starts to forget to pay attention to where she is or what she’s doing in the moment. There was something… someone upset her-” She stopped herself, fumbling over the words as she spoke them.

“Someone?” He couldn’t help himself, digging his claws into the table.

“Irrelevant.” She snapped, “The point is, when Holli forgets things, she tends to forget important things like eating or sleeping… breather functions. It used to be really bad in college, before she started managing it better.

Lydia watched him carefully as he listened intently, taking note of his solemn mood, “Well, I went on that trip with dad and Delia a few summers ago, remember? And I didn’t… hadn’t paid attention to the fact Holli was having an episode. She always told me not to fret about her, since she was an adult and… well…”

She paused, taking another bite of toast. Even though Holidae never once put the responsibility of her mental health upon her, deep down, Lydia regretted not catching the early warning signs of Holidae’s episode. Lydia was still dealing with her own internalized issues, and Holli always told her to take care of herself more than anyone else.

Beej tilted his head sharply, knowing his friend was thinking hard about something, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it could be. Lydia only thought that hard when she was trying to concoct a lie, or spare him some tedious details that wouldn’t have made sense to a demon like him. Breather details. Things he never had to experience, or things he never needed to consider.

Swallowing her toast, she continued softly, “When I got back, Holli had been admitted into the hospital. They said she hadn’t slept in days, which made her vividly hallucinate random things in the middle of classes; it’s why her arms are torn up. From what the doctors could understand, she claimed she needed to ‘remove the layers’ because there was something wrong? Or she said it was burnt somehow? She doesn’t remember anything… not even me being gone! The first thing she asked me when I saw her in the hospital was if I had missed my flight. It had been a week since I told her goodbye.”

Lydia let out a humorless laugh; memories of her friend hooked up to machines like Frankenstein’s monster with wires all over flooded her mind. Holli looking like death warmed over, sitting confused in the hospital bed and picking idly at a cup of jell-o.

Holidae had been more concerned about her. Her vacation. Not even comprehending her situation until a few days later.

Wisely, the young lady did not disclose the gruesome details of Holidae’s recovery to her demonic pal. Something deep in her gut told her that he wouldn’t have been thrilled to learn about the agonizing healing process; long nights unable to find relief as the skin stitched back together. Pain killers only did so much.

“Just… don’t bring up the scars again, okay?” Lydia sighed, a bit relieved to get that weight off of her shoulders.

Sometimes, it was good to talk things out with a third party; human status notwithstanding. Before Beetlejuice could give any sort of response, the front door opened, the sound of keys clattering into a ceramic dish filling the silence.

“Lyddy, they were out of that weird cereal you like, so I got you the off brand in the industrial sized bag. Should last a few decades.” Holidae’s voice carried into the kitchen, causing both Lydia and Beej to turn toward the entryway to the hall.

In a flash, the demon vanished from his seat at the table, reappearing in the foyer much to Holidae’s shock. With a snap of his fingers, the bags she was balancing in her arms were neatly placed on the kitchen counter, and Holidae herself was wrapped tightly within his grasp.

“Whoa… hey, Juice, are you okay? I was only gone for like an hour.” Holidae was muffled against his coat, half her face pressed into his shoulder.

“Exactly! A whole hour! What if something cool had happened and you weren’t around to see it? Or you might have been kidnapped by angry lawn gnomes! Which means I would have to heroically charge in and save you from their clutches, and of course you would reward me with a night of hot, passionate- oh. You know what? That sounds super special awesome.” He was babbling, pressing sloppy kisses all over her forehead. “Go back out and make yourself attractive to lawn gnomes. Go GO GO!”

Quietly, Lydia listened from the kitchen, surprised that Beej actually listened to her warnings about keeping Holidae unaware of what she had told him.

Then again, there was no guarantee he would keep that promise for long.

Writing Tags: @hoodoo12 @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @a-subconscious-manifestation @asriells @missihart23 @heknowshisherbs @mrgeuse @amywright @beetlebitchywitch

#beetlejuice x oc #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice x self insert #writing time

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