#could have put a lot more broadway on here for sure

[dogwooddiaries]

actually made time for this. thanks for the fun game @sparrow-in-the-field !

Rules: put a song for each letter of your URL

so many Ds and Os!

D -Don't Wanna Be Without Ya by Penny & Sparrow

O - Old Churchyard by The Wailin' Jennys

G - Good Thing Going On by Mat Kearney

W - White Owl by Josh Garrels

O - One Day More by Les Miserables Cast

O - Only Thing by Sufjan Stevens

D - Destination by Nickel Creek

D - Detectorists by Johnny Flynn

I - I Will cover by Lowland Hum

A - Anywhere by The Gray Havens

R - Reasons Why by Nickel Creek

I - I Will Wait by Mumford and Sons

E - Exeunt by The Oh Hellos

S - Sleeping at the Wheel by Mat Kearney

[emptymasks]

i got to see hadestown on the west end and all i have to say is AAAA. i liked the original broadway cast so much i didn't think anything else could compare to me, but omg they were all amazing and maybe it's a bias from seeing it live vs seeing broadway through recordings, but i actually enjoyed them so much more. i think what helped is i felt a lot more for donal's orpheus, whereas reeve's never managed to really put at my heartstrings.

okayokay what i have to list out loved (going to try and go through the show chronologically):

la barrie's hermes using no titles and they/them pronouns. the lyrics were changed to reflect this eg "excuse me, hermes" instead of "mister hermes" at the beginning of 'wait for me', and "feathers on their feet" instead of "feathers on his feet" in 'road to hell'.

the cast keeping their own accents. it's not often in uk theatre to hear british regional accents, even if the actor has or had that accent. so hearing a nothern accent from eurydice was aaaa. as a northerner it made me really happy. i'm not sure if that's grace's real accent or not but aa it just made .

donál keeping his irish accent too. and the chemistry between his orpheus and grace's eurydice was adorable.

hermes slowly kissing persephone hand during 'our lady of the underground'.

PERSEPHONE didn't think I could love anyone more than grey but omg. i've never loved "our lady of the underground" but I do now, the way gloria performed it and this one long belting note she did while bending over crazy far backwards aaa. and at one point while dancing she acted like she'd gone too hard and pulled her back and got stuck, but then very smoothly went into leaning down towards the audience and singing directly at people in the front rows.

wasn't 100% sold on hades at first since his voice isn't as deep as what I'm used too (used to listening to page as hades), but after "i conduct the electric city" and the lights went out and when they came back on there was a single silly spotlight on hades was stood leaning against the door checking his nails all sultry like. his acting was so different from what I'm used too, more energetic and more... playful? i'm not sure if that's the right word but i can't think of anything else. and less cold and stern than page but I ended up really enjoying him. i've got two very different versions of hades i love now.

new lyrics in epic three, "what has become of the heart of that man" has been replaced with new lyrics. i think "man with his arms outreached" has reverted back to pre-broadway "man with his hat in his hands" but i'll be honest me memory of what the new lyrics are is not great.

i cried when hades and persephone danced. both of them were crying. and when they finished dancing he sobbed and crumpled into her arms and she stroked his head and back and held him the whole time orpheus and eurydice sang "promises"

hades breaking it down during the dance, doing silly dance moves and making persphone laugh, and then she joins in and does his silly dance moves with him 10/10 people supporting their partners silly dance moves.

hades "i don't know" answer to if orpheus and eurydice can go... i'm used to patrick page's grave, defeated "i don't know" and here instead you could really see the inner conflict and he was holding hands with persephone and when he said it she angrily let go of his hand and he had his little "his kiss the riot" freak out.

orpheus and hades handshake during the wait for me reprise aaaa

[gardenschedule]

Paul & leadership, musically & otherwise

Link to masterpost of quote compilations

When Paul came in[to the band], things started to get a little bit more serious. Paul’s father had actually had a band, Jim Mac’s Jazz Band, so Paul was much more aware of the career possibilities than any of the rest of us were, because here his own dad had had a band. So things got a lot more structured and serious when Paul arrived. You can tell that by looking at the photograph of us in July ’57, when we were at St Peter’s Church, a bunch of guys in checked shirts, and in November ’57, when you have John and Paul in smart white jackets and everybody in little bootlace ties. I mean, already Paul’s influence was evident, you know?

Rod Davis (of The Quarrymen), interview w/ Gillian G. Gaar for Goldmine: Before they were Beatles, they were Quarrymen. (November 28th, 2012)

COLIN: Paul would have allowed John to feel that he was the boss anyway. Paul wouldn’t have gotten head to head with John, but Paul would have got his own way if you’d like, carefully, by maneuvering and perhaps letting John think it was his idea. I think that’s the way Paul was. LEN: I think it was part of his characteristic, really. Part of his characteristic. You know, when we started off as The Quarrymen, we were a gang of scruffs, we could dress whatwe’d like, checked shirts, anything we would like. But I’m pretty sure it was Paul’s idea that one night at Clubmoor we dressed a bit smarter – you know, the white coats and the black ties. I think – it wouldn’t be John’s idea. John was more interested in the music and the entertainment. “We can dress what we like as long as we’re enjoying ourselves.” But I think Paul was more... I don’t know. Image-minded, you know. Worried more about the image. COLIN: Paul was very much the diplomat. He would never get a quick answer off Paul. He would always think about what was the right answer; not what the answer should’ve been, but perhaps what you wanted to hear.

2003: The Quarrymen talk about Paul

“I can well remember even at the rehearsal at his house in Forthlin Road, Paul was quite specific about how he wanted it played and what he wanted the piano to do. There was no question of improvising. We were told what we had to play. There was a lot of arranging going on even back then."

John Duff Lowe pianist on their first ever recording, In Spite of All the Danger

“During one Cavern performance of ‘Over the Rainbow’, John leaned back on the piano, pointed to Paul, burst into raucous laughter and shouted, “God, he’s doing Judy Garland!” Paul had to keep singing in the knowledge that John was pulling crips and Quasis behind his back or making strange sounds on his guitar to interrupt him. Yet, if Paul stopped in the middle of the number, John would stare around the stage, the essence of innocence. […] Paul took such behavior from no one but John, but also he gave it back and was strong minded enough to carry on doing what he wanted, knowing how much the audience liked it. He sang these songs well, and added one more to the portfolio at this time, the Broadway show number ‘Till There Was You’. John really had a go at Paul for singing this—but didn’t try to stop him doing it, recognizing there was scope for all kinds of music in this group, to please all kinds of audiences.”

Mark Lewisohn, Tune In: The Beatles: All These Years (unFUCKING believable that Lewisohn uses this as an example of John's leadership and not Paul's)

As they near the club, they start to discern the sounds of a band rehearsing a poppy, recently released Elvis number called “It’s Now Or Never”, refitted that summer from the melody of “O Sole Mio”. As the pair near the door of the bar, Lennon realises it is his band, and that the voice singing is that of his fellow Beatle, Paul McCartney. Lennon, to put it mildly, is unimpressed by this proposed extension of the group’s repertoire. “He said, ‘What the fucking hell is he doing now?’” remembers Griff, today. “Lennon was a rocker. He stormed in the club and said, ‘What are you doing?’ Paul said: ‘This is a popular song—they’ll love this.��� And of course the audiences did.”

Brian Griffiths, interview w/ John Robinson for Uncut: ‘A roaring rock’n’roll band in leathers and cowboy boots… but they changed.’ (March, 2012)

The observations Sam Leach had of the teenaged boys seems to put Paul in the leadership position, not John: “Even when we went to shows, Paul had the ideas, made the decisions — about what clubs to play in, for example, new things to try on stage. He was the idea man, John was a bit lazy when it came to doing stuff.”

Larry Kane. “When They Were Boys.

The other Quarry Men did not take quite so strongly to Paul. 'I always thought he was a bit big- headed,' Nigel Walley says. 'As soon as we let him into the group, he started complaining about the money I was getting them, and saying I should take less as I didn't do any playing. He was always smiling at you, but he could be catty as well. He used to pick on our drummer, Colin - not to his face; making catty remarks about him behind his back. Paul wanted something from the drums that Colin didn't have it in him to play.' "Paul was always telling me what to do," Colin Hanton says. "Can't you play it this way?" he'd say, and even try to show me on my own drums. He'd make some remark to me. I'd sulk. John would say "Ah, let him alone, he's all right." But I knew they only wanted me because I'd got a set of drums.' Even Pete Shotton - still a close friend and ally - noticed a change in John after Paul's arrival. "There was one time when they played a really dirty trick on me. I knew John would never have been capable of it on his own. It was so bad that he came to me later and apologised. I'd never known him to do that before for anyone.' It was shortly after Paul joined the Quarry Men that they bought proper stage outfits of black trousers, black bootlace ties and white cowboy shirts with fringes along the sleeves. John and Paul, in addition, wore white jackets; the other three played in their shirtsleeves. Eric Griffiths, though also a guitarist, did not have the jacket-wearing privilege. A cheerful boy, he did not recognise this for the augury it was.

Shout!: The True Story of the Beatles (Philip Norman)

Gerry Marsden also has his own interesting theory about Paul’s left-handed guitar playing: “He and John were able to get their faces close up together at the microphone for the vocals, unlike most players. So when they were singing, it was like a love affair with each other, and the mike between them. In every photograph they are tight together and the effect is very powerful. In those days, we didn’t have a microphone each: we shared one, so for Macca to plan this effect for the Beatles, as I’m certain he did, was brilliant.”

“What The Stars Said About Them.” Beatles Book Monthly Magazine No. 205 (May 1993).

“Paul was very good,” said Eric [Griffiths, of The Quarrymen]. “We could all see that. He was precocious in many ways. Not just in music but in relating to people.” […] His charm also worried John, according to Eric. “We were all walking down Halewood Drive to my house to do some practising. I was walking ahead with John. The others were behind. John suddenly said: ‘Let’s split the group, and you and me will start again.’ “We could hear Paul behind us, chatting to Pete [Shotton] as if he was Pete’s best friend. John knew we were all his pals, but now Paul was trying to get in on us. Not to split us up, just make friends with us all. I’m sure that was all it was, but to John it looked as if Paul was trying to take over, dominate the group. I suppose he was worried it could disrupt the balance, upset the group dynamics, as we might say today. “I said to him: ‘Paul’s so good. He’ll contribute a lot to the group. We need him with us.’ John said nothing. But after that the subject was never mentioned again.”

Eric Griffiths, c/o Hunter Davies, Sunday Times: A Beatle’s boyhood. (March 25th, 2001)

“[John] didn’t like it one bit, paying to play did not sit right with John Lennon… but we did eventually pay to go in — John included, and it was Paul McCartney who convinced John we should do so… Paul’s reasoning was we were more than good enough to win the prize money. He argued that as we would soon be walking off with the cash prize anyway, so we could afford to pay to go inside… So we all did cough up and in we trooped, set up, performed and, of course, proceeded not to win. It was undoubtedly a reality check for our new super-confidant guitarist. We all came away out of pocket, but steeped in admiration for Paul’s enthusiasm and blind faith in the Quarry Men’s ability. He had impressed us all.”

Colin Hanton and Colin Hall, Pre-Fab, The Book Guild, 2018.

‘When Paul joined the band, things changed… but it wasn’t an overnight change,’ Colin Hanton remembers. ‘Paul was shrewd. He realised from the start that John liked to think of himself as the dominant force, but he needed Paul to teach him proper guitar chords, which was the way in to playing more rock ‘n’ roll material. He recognised John was the power in the group and that the best way to take him on was to do it subtly.’ Paul’s most immediate effect on the Quarrymen was in their presentation. ‘You could see he had this show business side to him,’ Colin Hanton says, ‘while John just lived for the music.’ The group had always worn what they liked onstage, but now John accepted Paul’s suggestion of a uniform: black trousers, white Western-style shirts and black bootlace ties. On 23 November, they had a return booking at the New Clubmoor Hall, where Paul had previously mucked up ‘Guitar Boogie’. He was determined to cut a better figure this time. ‘He had this sort of oatmeal jacket–he’d worn it to the Woolton fete–and he let it be known to John that when we did the gig, he was going to wear the jacket,’ Hanton remembers. ‘So the gig got nearer and then one day John turned up and he had got a cream jacket that was lighter than Paul’s. It was John’s way of saying “Hey, I’m cooler than you.”’

Philip Norman, Paul McCartney: The Life. (2016)

“During playbacks, John and Paul would often huddle together and discuss whether a take was good enough; they’d talk about what they were hearing and what they wanted to fix or do differently,” “John wasn’t casual about making records, not in the early years, anyway. Still, it was Paul who was always striving to get things the best that they could possibly be.” While Lennon might not have shared McCartney’s perfectionism, he respected and went along with it. He may not have had the same attitude toward Martin, though. “Certainly George Martin couldn’t get away with that,” “If he dared try, they would bite his head off. There was never any doubt in my mind that Paul and John viewed George Martin as a helpmate, not as their equal.”

Geoff Emerick in his book Here, There and Everywhere: My Life Recording the Music of the Beatles.

“John is an original. New ideas just come to him. Paul has great originality but he’s also an arranger. He can get things done, which John can’t, or can’t be bothered trying. They do need, and they don’t need, each other. Either is true. Paul is as talented a composer as John. They could easily have done well on their own.”

Astrid Kirchherr in 1967, from The Beatles, by Hunter Davies.

In the early days my role was to tidy things up, musically - to put songs into some sort of perspective. (I would also give a commercial estimate of their worth) I might take a phrase out of the middle of ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’, for example, pointing out that the phrase should have started the song, or, as on ‘Please Please Me’, say ‘Speed it up, maybe; that’s all it needs, really… ’ I think John learned from this kind of input. He learned a whole lot more from Paul, though: musical structure; organization in his song writing; how to make a song telling. He also learned the value of a good ‘hook’ —the catchy bit, for example the guitar riff that starts ‘Day Tripper’, the harmonica from ‘Love Me Do’.

George Martin

John used to find it hard to express himself, I was in a position where I really had to read his mind, and he didn’t have a lot of patience. He would accept something that was sort of 95% good, whereas Paul would want it 100% good. So Paul to me has always been the musician and the one that was a musicians sort of musician. I mean Paul was a good drummer, a good guitarist, a good keyboard player and he sort of held the band and brought them to that perfection part of things, John would let things easily go. And of course John did not like the sound of his voice either. No matter how much you told him how great his voice sounded, he always wanted tape echo on it or something done to it.

Geoff Emerick interview w/ Alan Light for Blender.com (2009)

Paul was the one who sort of saved the situation always, the one who always went that little bit extra to perfect things you know. Especially because on Paul’s songs, we’d spend a considerable amount of time doing Paul’s songs because he knew exactly really what he wanted whereas John didn’t. The time we spent on some of John’s songs was a bit less than Paul’s songs, but if Paul, I think, thought that a John song was going slightly a bit, you know, lopsided, he’d interject and sort of make sure it really was polished.

Geoff Emerick interview w/ Alan Light for Blender.com (2009)

Q: If you had a favourite out of all The Beatles, who did you find yourself drawn to? Geoff: Oh, Paul, obviously! I mean, Paul was the musician’s musician. And I think Paul had an understanding of what I was doing as well; because he knew I was into instruments and so forth, you know, listening to musical instruments and crafting them, let’s put it that way. […] He was the one who always wanted a 110%.

Geoff Emerick, interviewed for ABC’s 7.30 program, for the 50th anniversary of Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. (25 May 2017)

"I don’t want to take anything away from anyone, but production of the Beatles was very simple, because it was ready-made. Paul was a very great influence in terms of the production, especially in terms of George Harrison’s guitar solos and Ringo’s drumming. The truth of the matter is that, to the best of my memory, Paul had a great hand in practically all of the songs that we did, and Ringo would generally ask him what he should do. After all, Paul was no mean drummer himself, and he did play drums on a couple of things. It was almost like we had one producer in the control room and another producer down in the studio. There is no doubt at all that Paul was the main musical force. He was also that in terms of production as well. A lot of the time George Martin didn’t really have to do the things he did because Paul McCartney was around and could have done them equally well… most of the ideas came from Paul".

Norman Smith (The Beatles recording engineer from Please Please Me through Rubber Soul), McCartney by Chris Salewicz

“If you take ‘Across The Universe’, for example: that’s like a folk song without his production on it, [which is] kind of slightly heavy handed. I think it would have been very different if my Dad had done it. Not necessarily better; just very different. I think Paul’s main issue with what happened is that he normally had a lot of input into the arrangements, and he didn’t with Spector – they arranged it without him. I was listening to [off-cuts from 1966’s] ‘Eleanor Rigby’ and even at that early stage you can hear my Dad saying, ‘Do you want that vibrato or not vibrato, Paul?’”

Producer Giles Martin

JOHN: [singing operatically] Well, let me tell you… [Small laughs] Everybody has all the ambitions. Everybody’s full of ambition, and uh, it’s like – uh, once I gave George the advice on songwriting, [which is] that when you start one, finish it. And I think I got the advice from Paul, or working with Paul. But it’s like anything. If you have an idea, the only – the best way is to try and do it right away, otherwise you won’t do it, and that’s called ambition, you know.

October 22nd, 1969 (Apple Corps, London): Detroit DJ John Small

Paul: OK, and that’s great, you know. And then – it’s just being able to say that, on the occasion, just being – say, “Look, I’m not going to say anything about the song, because it’ll be difficult … to sing it to you.” John: Yeah, I know, but you wouldn’t say – listen to me – you probably arranged it you know? Paul: I know, I know. John: Well, I’m saying that “Dear Prudence” is arranged. Can’t you hear [John vocalizes part of the song]. That is the arrangement, you know? But I’m too frightened to say “This is it.” I just sit there and say, “Look, if you don’t come along and play your bit, I won’t do the song,” you know? I can’t do any better than that. Don’t ask me for what movie* you’re gonna play on it. Because apart from not knowing, I can’t tell you better than you have, what grooves you can play on it. You know, I just can’t work. I can’t do it like that. I never could, you know. But when you think of the other half of it, just think, how much more have I done towards helping you write? I’ve never told you what to sing or what to play. You know, I’ve always done the numbers like that. Now, the only regret, just the past numbers, is when because I’ve been so frightened, that I’ve allowed you to take it somewhere where I didn’t want

Jan. 13: The Lunchroom Tape

PAUL: We – we haven’t played together, you see! That’s the fucking thing. But when we do come together to play together, we all just sort of talk about the fleeting past! We’re like old-age pensioners! [British geriatric voice] “Remember the days when we used to rock?” You know, but we’re here now! We can do it, you know. But I mean, I’m – all I hoping for is enthusiasm from you— PAUL: You see the thing is also, I, I get to a bit where I just sort of push all my ideas, you know, and I know that my ideas aren’t the best, you know. They are [mechanical voice] “good, good, good” but they’re not the best, you know. We can improve on it. Because we write songs good, and we improve on it. [to Ringo] And you can improve on your drumming like it is, if you get into it. If you don’t, you know, then okay, I have better ideas, but if you get into it, you’re better! You know. It’s like that.

Twickenham, January 6th

"I always had the impression that Brian used to worry about Paul, that he was a bit frightened of him perhaps because he was so strong-willed in his opinions about the exact details of how the Beatles’ career should progress. Even though they could also be as thick as thieves about such matters, Brian was always circumspect when talking to Paul about things of any great importance. John and Brian always seemed to get on all right. But Paul would argue with Brian, and as far as I could see, Brian always gave in."

Brian Sommerville, McCartney by Chris Salewicz

“Sgt Pepper had not yet been released, but already Paul was explaining to Brian at length his plan for the Magical Mystery Tour movie. Every few seconds Brian would make a note on a scrap of paper. Paul drew the whole plan out as a diagram, a cosmic plan with time and action and motion. Brian could translate this, as he could all Beatles commands, into a specific timetable of booked studios, rehearsal halls, rented equipment, tea for forty-five people and everything else they needed, without the Beatles even knowing what degree of organisation was required to satisfy their often obscure and demanding requests. Brian was on Paul’s wavelength and treated him as the most organised Beatle, who could in turn translate management needs back to the other three. It was the last time I saw Brian.”

Barry Miles, In the Sixties

To Lennon, [Paul] was "cute, and didn’t he know it," a born performer who was also a "thruster" and an "operator" behind the scenes.

Christopher Sandford, Paul McCartney, 2005

Because Paul was the natural PR man within the group, it was Paul with whom I worked most. In a sense, I used him to manipulate the others, because that’s what he was doing all the time anyway. I suspect that Paul got his way more than John did within the group, but in a far more subtle manner. He was a smooth operator, as he is to this day. Metaphorically, he still takes that last look in the mirror. His critics now think of him as calculating and selfish, but you could level the charge of selfishness at any great performer. Any artist who is not self-centred will not sustain himself—and self-centred is what Paul is. I soon found out that his management of himself is total. That’s why he always found it so difficult in his solo years to get management that would be satisfactory to him. Everybody knows that all Paul needs is to surround himself with people who will carry out his ideas and do what he says. He considers himself, as he did then, to be self-sufficient. That’s different from John. It is why the partnership worked so well in the early days.

Tony Barrow, Daily Mail. (February 16th, 1998)

And only until John became what he is now – which is after John’s death that people started to revere John – it became an issue for Paul. Because you have to understand that table was turned many times. One, when John made the Jesus Christ remark, and Paul became virtually a leader. And John turned the table on Paul by becoming a partner with me, probably. But then the thing is, the table was turned again by Paul becoming extremely successful with Wings. So he was doing alright, while John did Some Time in New York City with me, and then followed that with Mind Games or something, you know.

1990: Yoko

“I hear tell, I said, "that you can all be downright rude - and have been.” “Of course we’ve been rude - but only rude back,” he [John] explained. “Have you any clue about the things people say and do to us? "We’re not cruel. We’ve seen enough tragedy on Merseyside. But when a mother shrieks, ‘just touch him and maybe he will walk again,’ we want to run, cry or just empty our pockets. It’s a great emotional drag, and this is where Paul helps out. He’s the diplomat with the soft soap. He can turn on that smile like little May sunshine and we’re out of trouble. "We’ve a very tight school, the Beatles. We’re like a machine that goes boom, boomchick, chickboom, each of us with our own little job to do. We’re just like dogs who can hear high-pitched sounds that humans can’t.

The Daily Mirror: The one that bites – Donald Zec dissects Mr J. Lennon. (March 1965)

JOHN: Well, that’s the game they play. Neil Aspinall plays that game too. At one point, in one of the Northern Songs proceedings, I sent a telegram to Neil, because I’d heard he’d been doing things behind me back, and I said: “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” Because I was the one that protected him many times from Paul. Paul had no love for Neil, and vice versa. And all of a sudden he’s a Paul man. Because they clung to Paul—Derek included—because they all thought Paul was the one who was going to hold it all together. So they had a choice of which side to come down on, and they chose Paul, and the past, and at that moment I cut ‘em off.

John Lennon, interview w/ Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld. (September, 1971)

It seemed that John had cut me off not just from him but from the whole Beatles family. The only person who came to see me was Paul. He arrived one sunny afternoon, bearing a red rose, and said, 'I’m so sorry, Cyn, I don’t know what’s come over him. This isn’t right.’ On the way down to see us he had written a song for Julian. It began as ‘Hey Jules’ and later became 'Hey Jude’, which sounded better. Ironically John thought it was about him when he first heard it. It went on to become one of the Beatles’ most successful singles ever, spending nine weeks at number one in the US and two weeks in the UK. Paul stayed for a while. He told me that John was bringing Yoko to recording sessions, which he, George and Ringo hated. […] He joked about us getting married - 'How about it, Cyn?’ - and I was grateful to him for cheering me up and caring enough to come. He was the only member of the Beatles family who’d had the courage to defy John – who had apparently made it quite clear that he expected everyone to follow his lead in cutting me off. But Paul was his own man and not afraid of John. In fact, musically and personally, the two were beginning to go in separate directions so perhaps Paul’s visit to me was also a statement to John.”

Cynthia Lennon, John

“They were the first group I had heard who sounded just like they did on record. You could tell John was the leader, he had a look somehow, a bit of a hard case, but I actually think it was Paul who was in charge.”

Andre Wheeldon, musician

Q: What were the Beatles like to deal with…It was said that John wasn’t the easiest to deal with, Paul was a delight to work with.

A: If we’re talking…professionally, those were the days I was a PR man; and therefore to a man who was doing publicity for the Beatles, Paul had to be the greatest joy of the four because he was the one who organized everyone else. He was the one who posed for the photographers, he was he one who said c’mon chaps, let’s do the interview, let’s do the photograph or whatever. John, in that respect, was more difficult, but John….is the most misunderstood man, actually, because beneath all that bravado and rudeness–and sheer rudeness a lot of the time– there was a genius, and there was also a man who was afraid. I mean all that noise he made was in fact a coverup for being rather a frightened man. Q: He was a shy man… A: Yes, yes indeed. And that is how an awful lot of shy people cover it up by making a lot of noise.”

Tony Barrow, TVAM interview

Paul came across in 1963 as a fun-loving, footloose bachelor who turned on his charm to devastating effect when he wanted to manipulate rivals, colleagues or women he fancied. (...) He had enormous powers of persuasion within The Beatles. He would get his own way by subtlety and suaveness where John resorted to shouting and bullying. John may have been the loudest Beatle but Paul was the shrewdest. I watched him twist the others round to his point of view in all sorts of contentious situations, some trivial, some more significant, some administrative, some creative.

George told me that when he joined Paul and John in the line-up of The Quarry Men in 1958, Paul was already acting as though he was the decision-maker in the group. According to George: "I knew perfectly well that this was John's band and John was my hero, my idol, but from the way Paul talked he gave every indication that he was the real leader, the one who dictated what The Quarry Men would do and where they should be going as a group." This made sense to me because, from what I saw for myself in 1963 and later, Paul's opinions and ideas tended to prevail with The Beatles, particularly on matters of musical policy such as whether a new number was worth recording or whether the running order for the group's stage show needed altering slightly. I didn't see any of the others resist him. They seemed to welcome Paul getting his way by winning arguments with John. When Paul wanted something badly enough from Brian Epstein he would speak softly, wooing the man rather than intimidating him. Epstein's defences would melt away as Paul looked him straight in the eye. In terms of song lyrics, Paul's idea of romantic was 'Michelle', John's was 'Norwegian Wood'.

John, Paul, George, Ringo & Me: The Real Beatles Story, Tony Barrow (2005)

“PAUL: John used to say, ‘I’m the leader of this group!’ and we used to say, 'It’s only because you fucking shout louder than anyone else!’ It wasn’t as if we didn’t know how to do that, it was just nobody wanted to shout and be so uptight about it. Nobody cared as much as he did about being the leader. Actually I have always quite enjoyed being second. I realised why it was when I was out riding: whoever is first opens all the gates. If you’re second you just get to walk through. They’ve knocked down all the walls, they’ve taken all the stinging nettles, they take all the shit and whoever’s second, which is damn near to first, waltzes through and has an easy life. You’re still up with number one. Number one still needs you as his companion, so I think my relationship to John is something to do with this attitude.

paul mccartney: many years from now, barry miles

“When I came out of the Beatles, I got slated for being a bit too heavy with the other guys in the band,” he said. “It was a bit as if I was taking over as the manager. I thought with the new band, I’ll give them total freedom, so no one can accuse me of that again . . . and you can’t do that either. You started to have people saying, ‘Hey man, c’mon, produce us.’ No one would take up the baton, the role. So I came back to that. “The whole of ‘Wings Mark I’ was to see if that could be done. But there was too much indecision, and I wasn’t willing enough to take the thing by the scruff of the neck and say, ‘Look, I think we’ve gotta organize the solos you’re gonna play.’ It was a bit like we’re gonna be the Grateful Dead and we’re just gonna play what comes up. But to do that you’ve gotta know each other for a long time.”

The McCartney Legacy, Volume 1: 1969 – 1973 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair (2022)

“Coming out of The Beatles, I’d kind of got burned by being told I was too overbearing. So I really backed off too far in the early days of Wings. Having to be diplomatic and say ‘Um, perhaps we should do this’ doesn’t work either. You have chaos and confusion. Eventually somebody says: 'Why don’t you tell us what you want?’ and I’d think, 'I just got a bollocking for doing that!’ There was a bit of that in early Wings which caused difficulties.”

Paul McCartney, The Word, October 2005

But it was always hard for you to lock a line-up with Wings. Was it a benign dictatorship? That’s what they thought it was. The thing is, if you come out of The Beatles and you go in another group, you’re not just anyone. You’re the guy out of The Beatles. So, y’know, if anyone’s gonna make a decision, it should probably be him. But I mean, having said that, it was a team thing. Y’know, if anyone didn’t like stuff, we didn’t do it. You could never force musicians to do stuff. But you’d suggest strongly.

The Q Interview, 2007

“That’s difficult. I really don’t know,” he says. “What I first thought of was: listen to people’s opinions more, particularly within the group. But I did listen to people’s opinions and what would happen was I would feel like I had to give my opinion and not get too nervous, because you’ve got to be strong in those situations. There were times when John would bring a song in and I could have just gone, ‘That’s great John, let’s do it like that.’ But the producer in me would think, ‘No, that’s not going to work, why don’t we try it like that.’ So something like ‘Come Together’ would never have been as cool if I’d just been listening to the way John brought it in. And there were a few little instances like that where we would insist on it being one way. So I can’t actually think what I’d say to him. I’d say: You’re a good kid, I love you.”

NME Big Read – Paul McCartney

I had to fight at EMI even for things like the thickness of the cardboard. EMI were always trying to give me less and less thick cardboard. I said, 'Look, when I was a kid, I loved my records, the good ones, and I wanted to protect them and thick cardboard would keep my records. That's all I want to do is give the kids who buy our stuff something to protect our records.' 'Well now, Paul, we can't do it, the volume you boys sell at. If we can save point oh oh pence ... And you can't tell the difference.' 'I bloody can! That's a thin piece of cardboard!' But I got my thick cardboard. I was always arguing for things like that. It somehow fell to me. Later people put me down for that, 'Oh, he was always the pushy one, the PR one.' The truth was, no other fucker would do it! And it had to get done, and I was living in London and I could hop in a taxi and go down Manchester Square and say, 'I'll be down in ten minutes to talk to you about the cardboard.'

Paul McCartney, Many Years From Now

[drama-glob]

(Once again, long day yesterday so I know a lot of stuff has been online for over 12hrs now, but oh well ;) ).

Yes yes yes to the news that we'll get a new short near the end of June and it's a father-daughter mission! ^_^ It'll be sweet to see more of how Blitz and Loona interact in this one, especially since Loona caved to the idea of the host getting to see his kids one last time before he died, so she was definitely showing some empathy for kids wanting to see their parents before they're gone. Blitz being dressed as a kid is honestly hilarious though and I'm here for it. XD XD XD It'd be funny too if these were the orphans Blitz was referring to in the "Mastermind" episode, but I know the pilot has a reference to it as well, so that's still the more likely of the two.

Of course, the main excitement came from everyone getting to come out on stage and I absolutely love that Alex got to introduce James (using his Fizz voice of course ;) ) and the two met on stage to hug, which turned into James spinning Alex around and I tell you, we went wild for that! ^_^<3<3<3

They got to talking about how James and Viv met one day after seeing him perform in "Aladdin" on Broadway and how he's a big animation fan, so he'd be up to voice anytime she asked. He said he got to do the big lizard in the "Hazbin Hotel" pilot and then from there got to later come on as Asmodeus for "Helluva Boss." He also mentioned how when he was recording "House of Asmodeus" in his dressing room (I think) and he saw that Richard Horvitz was on the call, he went into the closet and screamed like a little bitch because Billy from "The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy" was there, and then returned to record the song. XD XD XD I don't blame him though since I was geeking out meeting Richard myself. ;) I also laughed that since "Helluva Boss" is coming to Amazon Prime, it got brought up what curse words they were happy to say without being censored, and all Alex wanted was for them to show FP of Fizz and Ozzie!!! XD XD XD He even got us in the crowd to chant it! XD XD XD I absolutely love though seeing Alex and James show so much physical affection like Alex laying his head on James's shoulder and James bring Alex in for a hug. ^_^ It was really sweet, wholesome and it even got said how much he loves his friend. ^_^<3<3<3

I love that there were several questions for James and I too hope that we get to see Ozzie whoop Mammon's ass because he is right that Ozzie has something worth fighting for while Mammon doesn't. ;) I also love James mentioning how with Fizz, he gets to just be himself, that he doesn't have to be the Embodiment of Lust or put on any royal air, and that for sure is one of the things I've been saying about why Ozzie is lucky to have found Fizz and not just Fizz being lucky to have Ozzie. ^_^<3<3<3

Alex was talking about how happy and healthy Fizz is now to be free of Mammon and that's why he enjoyed seeing Fizz in his "Full Moon" attire, but he said we had no reason to trust him when it came to what we could expect in season three, but I'm still hopeful that we'll see Fizz continue to fight/stand up for his happy life with Ozzie. ^_^

They then got asked about how they'd spend the day with their character with predictably sex being involved for most of their responses. XD XD XD Alex mentioned going to an amusement park with Fizz, having Olive Garden and then fisting XD.

James said they'd hit Broadway (and see any of the shows he's in ;) ), Red Lobster afterwards, do some karaoke with R&B as the likely picks, and then sex. ;)

Bryce said he and Stolas would have a theme day and the theme was therapy, which was retail therapy, going to the spa and have Stolas get preened, having a nice dinner, and then see where the rest of the night went (I think). What was really funny though was that Bryce looked over at Brandon and was saying that he didn't need to do anything too expensive/fancy for Stolas given his current food situation with Blitz and Brandon was just so insulted on behave of Blitz, saying the whole panel is turning against me and others being like "We know what you did." XD (I think that was the part where James and Alex defended "Stolas" by saying he put in effort/showed that he cared and Alex just flipped a couple birds at Brandon, but that may have been earlier :/).

Erica said she wanted Loona to be in her full demon form and go riding on her like we saw Blitz in "Sinsmas" because she said she's a horse girl and thought that'd be a great experience. ^_^

Richard wanted to have a champagne brunch with Moxxie, then go see "Hamilton," only to be kicked out for singing along with the opening number and he even started singing some of along with the audience. ^_^ He also mentioned going to do karaoke with Ozzie and James, so if someone doesn't draw that, I will because I think that's great that they'd get along after the whole "Ozzie's" incident. ^_^ He then would try to see "Phantom of the Opera" but find it was closed, so the two of them would sing it to themselves, then come home to Millie. ;)

Vivian mentioned going on a hunting trip with her family and Millie in a cabin (I think), getting to have a nice relaxing time, eating what they caught, teaching Millie to cook, and then get in bed with Moxxie; the funny part came though with Vivian saying she'd be with Moxxie when she meant Millie, so whoops on mixing up whether she's supposed to be herself or Millie. XD

Brandon talked about buying a bunch of fireworks and setting them off in a cheese factory, liberating all the cows there. I believe he said they'd have sex afterward, but that's no surprise. ;) Brandon also said he was "holesome" with a capital "H" at some point and that got me laughing. XD XD XD

I sadly didn't get to ask my question, but as you can see I was really close...almost as close as the cast was so they could hear the questions better. ;)

Overall, just such a wonderful time and I hope to make it to the last panel today! ^_^<3<3<3

[petra-creat0r]

Deltarune: Fool's Fate Chapter 1 Shopkeep

Okay so this should be the last important character ref for Chapter 1, aka the Attic World. (i need a better name for this Dark World.) After this my plan is to post the minor characters like enemies, NPCs, and Minibosses but once those are out, I'm not sure what to start on next. I have many things I could work on, it's just a matter of choosing. Thus why shortly after posting this, I'll be putting up a poll. Anyways! Onto Jeanie!

The shopkeep of the first area, aka the Dusty Plains, Jeanie (like the spirit) is a mystic snake who lives alone in her tent and tells the fortunes of whoever enters. If we're to think in terms of mapping parts of the Attic World to Chapter 1 of Deltarune proper, imagine Jeanie as the Seam of the chapter. Some of her dialogue even makes mention to the cat plush, even though the two have never met proper.

Her name is a play on "genie", being said the same, just spelled differently, and tying to her mystic, fortune-teller vibe and occupation. As for inspiration, asides from taking on the appearance of a hooded cobra (a lot of the Attic World has some snake ties because of Broadway), Jeanie is an old fortune telling machine. I'm not sure if she's the full machine, or just a part of it, but that is her Light World counterpart. Her connection to tarot cards is likely due to the machine incorporating them into it's gimmick.

Being the first shopkeep, Jeanie's wares are rather basic. A healing item found a few times prior to meeting her, aka the Fortune Cookie, a stronger healing item in the Stitched Stew, a basic armor in the Crystal Lace, and a weapon for Chicago in the Fortune Cutters. I have descriptions for each of those items incase anyone's interested.

For a better look at her character, here's a quote from her shop dialogue when you ask Jeanie about herself.

"The name is Jeanie, like the spirit. Mystical Serpent of Mystery. This tent is my where I sell mystical charms and read palms, paws, and tails. I've seen quite a lot in my time telling fortunes. The past, the present... Perhaps even the future. Hee hee hee..."

Aside from asking about herself, during their first encounter with Jeanie, the player would be able to ask Jeanie about the Magician, ask for a Card Reading, or ask Jeanie how she was expecting the party based on her shop enter dialogue (depicted in the image above). Some of her dialogue will change later in the chapter, mostly after running into her a second time in the second area (the Feathered Forest) or once encountering Dorothy (the secret boss) both before and after fighting her. Under the cut is a list of what Jeanie has to say in her talk options.

You were expecting us?

"Legends have spread far and wide of Lightners who will come to seal fountains. Three legendary heroes who will save both light and dark from calamity. More recently, there have been tales and rumors among the Upper Choir of three young heroes destined to replace the Blue Knight and dethrone the High Priestess.

Call it premotion, call it fate, if you will... I simply call it inevitable that we would meet."

The Magician?

"Hmm? I'm afraid I do not know of the cat you speak off." She grins "Hee hee hee. Just kidding. You mean Magico, correct? He is quite the trickster, isn't he? I heard he's been trying capture the Lightners who've come to seal the Fountain. All in the name of the High Priestess. He wasn't always under her reign. None of us were. Our land did not have a singular, set ruler until recently. We were ruled by a collective choir. Until one day, a mysterious knight appeared, and appointed the highest Choir member, the Priestess, into power. After which, she appointed Magico the Head Magician and her right hand. It's been quite some time since this land has seen such upset in the Choir. Not since... Well, perhaps it's better you not learn of that just yet."

Card Reading (Beginning of Chapter, before Broadway joins party)

"The Fool, The Magician, and The High Priestess. It seems your journey is just beginning, young heroes. Yet I sense great potiental and power shining within you. Perhaps such potential will aid you in the facing the powers and entities yet unknown. Even still, buying a small protection charm wouldn't hurt."

Reading (Encountering Jeanie outside of her shop in Feathered Forest with Broadway)

"I left my cards back at my tent, but I can still read your fate through the vibrations of your soul. Hmm... Interesting. I sense a lack of control. A slipping of string. Perhaps brought on by someone close to you interfering with your prior norm? ... I suggest you talk things out with them, young hero."

Card Reading (Back tracking after CK and Remie re-join the party again but before the Chapel)

"Three of Cups, Eight of Swords, and Five of Wands. It seems the rest of your party has returned to you. Though you've been apart for a time, it's important to remember the value of working as a team. Especially since a great challenge still awaits you all on the path ahead. The Chapel and Priestess still lie ahead, young heroes. Be weary not to let your own ambition and feelings get in the way of your collective goal."

Card Reading (Back tracking after entering the Choral Chapel)

"The High Priestess, reversed Nine of Swords, and Nine of Wands. It seems the final leg of this journey lays before you, young ones. Soon you shall duel with the Priestess to end her tyrannical reign. Bringing a new light to this land. However such a battle can wait for a little while. Your adventure has been long and tiring, has it not? Why not take a short rest? I can make some tea and read the leaves before you must set off once more."

Odd Doll (After first talking to Dorothy)

"I sense you three have come across a strange presence oddly familiar but which you've never known. A strange prisoner whom speaks in stitched together tongue? ... So I see. Seems the Magician couldn't hide her from all eyes forever. ... I see many paths if you chose to go down this route more, yet oddly enough... The one in which you try and release her holds the most promise. It would not be my personal advice but... The stars have yet to steer me wrong yet. Perhaps dealing with the doll once and for all will yield a brighter future for everyone. ... Perhaps it was wrong to lock her away to begin with. A key? I do not hold it, but I have a sense as to were the Magician hid it. Hidden among the trees, in the thicket of the dark. You'll find the path you seek, if you chose to take the lark. That's all the advice I can give, so I would advise turning to the Magician if you get stuck further. I wish you luck on your journey, young ones, and my the stars guide your path."

"Gate blocking your path? As I said, I can offer no more advise. Perhaps seek the Magician for assistance."

Odd Doll (After opening Dorothy's cell)

"So you say you've opened the door? That explains the wrathful energy I feel far away..." I'm afraid can't see where your future leads from here. Do tell me how this plays out, if you can. Or don't. I merely predict your path, only you can decide it."

About DOROTHY (After defeating Dorothy)

"Judgment, Reversed six of wands, and The Chariot. I may not have known that doll for long, but I knew her cards, her fate, the path the stars laid out for her. Or perhaps the path she forged herself… Once she was nothing more than a blank doll. No face, no name, no path. She was a fool just as you are. Yet one day, she came across a strange someone and it seemed her stars had finally aligned. She had been gifted an identity and purpose from some higher power, she said. To this day, I still don't quite understand what she meant by that. Rambling on about the Truth, or our purpose, of creating our own stars…Yet I didn't NOT understand at the same time… At some point she was let into the Upper Choir, but even they eventually grew annoyed with her ramblings. And so they cast her out. Exiled her back to these dust ridden plains. She grew enraged, filled with an anger and hatred for all that betrayed her. She had to be locked away before she could hurt anyone else. It shames me that I had to be the one to call the guard… Ever since, I've mulled over the cards and stars, seeking answers to what she said. Yet the skies shone dark and the cards even darker. The only thing I've come back with are more questions than when I started. It makes one wonder…How much of the universe and fate can be understood and predicated… And how much can only be navigated by the blind?"

We Won (After defeating Dorothy)

"The six of wands, the Tower, and the Devil. So, it is true? You really defeated her? Then you three truly must be the heroes of legend after all… However be warned, DOROTHY is merely the first step in your fool's journey. There is still a long way to go, and many more obstacles to face. And one day soon… even the most darkest evil of all. Hee hee hee… Well, I can only wish you luck. Perhaps once you reach that point You can come back here and I shall read your scattered destiny once more."

-------------------------------------------

31 39s 38, 27 6 7 4 50 39 44, 15 19t 21ly

31 39s 38, 27 6 7 5 50 39 44, 16 6 9

31 39s 38, 27 6 7 1 50 39 44, 41 re49 39

31 39s 38, 27 6 7 3 50 39 44, 40 6 2 25

31 39s 38, 27 48 8st 50 50 39 23, 35 32 27 13

31 39s 35 32, 27 34 4feated. 50 39 35 32, 46s 10 47ed.

31 33s 34 39, 27 34 & 29 50r 18, yet 6 2 45ed

31 28s 22, can 35t 6 11ed 50 28 36, of 26 this 10 20s

31 43s the 24, 27 43s 15 in 47, 30 & 42ess, 34ly 14.

31 39s 38, 24ish 27 39ed 6. 50r 47 37 32. 17 39, will 35t 50?

[nalyra-dreaming]

So in season 2, Armand and Assad’s portrayal of him got me truly obsessed with the show and I was finally motivated to read the books. But when I first got into the show with season 1, I was truly fascinated by Lestat and Sam’s incredible embodiment of the character. But I’ll be honest, when I read the TVL book, I was trying to imagine how they were going to do rockstat and I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. It feels like something that could easily make the entire season fall flat unless they get it absolutely perfect. While reading it I thought “this is such a 80s storyline”. I’m trepidatious, but still excited to see if they can pull it off. And I do have faith in this team. As a longtime fan, do you know how you would like to see it portrayed? How do you envision it? As a full blown musical season? Cutting to Lestat on stage singing for certain scenes? Documentary style with Daniel? I feel like I’m flailing trying to imagine it. I know it will surely be a tonal shift from last season, but how strong?

And regarding Armand, do you think they will weave his backstory into season 3 and 4 instead of doing a whole season of the TVA? I think his backstory is imperative to understand the character and they need to dive deeper into it, but I can’t see them doing a whole season seeing as Lestat is absent from a lot of it and the story itself is ROUGH as hell and was described to me by more than one person as “trauma porn” and having now read it, I can’t say I disagree.

Oh god, no, please no musical season 😅

There is already a musical on it all, and it did not make it on Broadway, so...

No, but in all seriousness, TVL ... IS trauma porn, to put it a bit flippantly I guess. For all the characters. It's not just Armand's part, Lestat's whole story is a horror story, really, including Marius' and the origins...

I do not think they will do a whole season of Armand's backstory. I think they will continue to weave his backstory in, through Louis' eyes, like in season 2, through Lestat's at least in part in season 3, then maybe through Daniel's, in season 4?, and of course there's also Marius. That is not to say that I don't think that ARMAND will not have a say here, just that we might get different facets through different connections, and I think that would work a lot better than to do a season-insert.

As per how I envision it... I actually wrote that into a fic, if you're interested, but suffice it to say, I would love it, if they would pick up the (canon) music videos to tell a part of the story, the vampire bars and cafés, if they would put fragments out there in music, yes, but not as a musical. (I like musicals! But not as the main way of narration here.)

I want to see other vampires react to it, I want to see the threads they have already put into the show wrt Marius and Armand and Daniel come together. I want the Talamasca to be on high alert, I want Lestat not to care :) I want Louis worried and fighting, I want his energy that he showed us a glimpse of at the end of season 2 to be off the charts.

As per the style...

I used to envision 80s, yes, but also maybe goth metal, like Nightwish, maybe.

But I do think that the "camp glam rock" route they seem to go also fits sooooooo well. I mean, if we take "Long Face" not as canon, but as... well, a hint, then they will play around with expectations, and styles, and make the best use of Sam's voice that they can, and I do trust them to pull that part off, definitely.

I would also like the documentary to become real, and yes, to carry the meta level they only hinted at in the teaser, with the tattoos, and Christine already in the background, and and and.

I... try not to lock down my expectations too tightly though, because I KNOW they're gonna surprise me. And I ... just want to receive it, with open arms :)

That said - the tonal shift WILL be massive - the tonal shift in TVL was and is massive from the first book.

And I think... when it comes? We probably won't know what hit us, lol.

[robotic-rin]

Why Wait For The Best When I Could Have You

(Beetlejuice x Reader)

Summary: In the light of recent notable events, you haven’t been quite sure how to be forthcoming with the family regarding your budding relationship with a certain demon. It doesn’t help that said demon isn’t known for his ability to keep secrets. Also, hopefully your mind isn’t too preoccupied making plans to soft launch your relationship, because Beetlejuice has had something on his mind lately that he’d really like to try out. It may or may not involve indulging his demonic instincts by hunting you for sport as foreplay. He’s lucky that he’s dating a monsterfucker.

Word Count: 24,092

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: even crazier demon sex this time, predator/prey dynamic, somewhat monster-y beetlejuice, temperature play, consensual possession, tentacle sex, copious amounts of biting, overstimulation, just a dash of breeding kink, oh we’re making this one HORNY-horny folks, porn with an unreasonable amount of plot, plot segments range from domestic fluff to hurt/comfort, more of beej’s mood ring hair being used to further my nefarious agendas, afab reader but with no gendered terms, tried to limit my use of (y/n) but it is in there

Author’s Note: ok so i saw the very final showing of beetlejuice on broadway and it did inspire me to write a sequel to my fic that was originally meant to be a one shot. seeing alex brightman in the flesh was absolutely bonkers, there will never be another beetlejuice in my mind (though i’ve since seen justin on tour who is beyond awesome in the role too! alex is just my personal fave). my brain is like a snowglobe and beej is just rattling around in there so i had to write something. this can kinda stand on its own but i’d recommend reading the first fic in the series before this (linking it right here). as usual, check the tags before reading, make sure you’re good with em, and hope y’all enjoy!

“You did WHAT?”

You feel the welcoming presence of immediate regret falling over you as Barbara shoots a glare at Adam following his outburst. Maybe I should’ve told Delia first instead.

Adam seems to recoil in embarrassment at his wife’s disapproving look. “That is to say, that’s just, um…surprising! That you would accept Beetlejuice’s…unique advances. You just didn’t seem the, er, type.” His eyes dart between you and Barbara as he fumbles for words. “Okay, I’m just making it worse. Barbara, please, help.”

Barbara seems more than willing to swoop in and try to save this conversation. “What Adam is trying to say is, we love Beetlejuice, of course, he’s like family! We just didn’t expect that you would take to him so quickly and…enthusiastically! He’s a bit of an acquired taste for most people, like…quinoa salad! I mean, between the constant inappropriate comments, and the way he, to be frank, smells like a lawnmower on the best of days.” She laughs, just a bit too forced to sound natural but you’ll be damned if she isn’t doing her best to keep things polite.

Adam nods fervently. “Exactly, Barbara! Like, we’ve both kissed the guy through strange extenuating circumstances in the past, but it’s not like it was enjoyable!” He earns a swift elbow to the ribs from Barbara after that one. He lets out a soft oof and slumps against the side of the old loveseat where he and Barbara are seated across from you in the attic.

Barbara quickly turns and reaches to gently grasp your hands in hers. “Sweetie, it’s not that we aren’t happy for you, and Beetlejuice too. We just know that he can be a bit…much, after awhile, even for us. That might be a lot to deal with 24/7. I mean, it’s one thing if you didn’t have options, but someone like you? We always imagined you maybe with someone more, say…put together! Literally, when it comes to that guy.”

You shuffle uncomfortably in your chair, absentmindedly picking at the vibrant red stitched cushioning. “What, are you guys trying to tell me I can do better?” Your eyes dart up from your fidgeting hands to scan their faces.

With barely a second’s pause, the two of them begin talking over each other with various overlapping shades of, “No, nono, not at all, no…”

Adam seems to be nervously waving his hands at nothing in an attempt to dispel your accusation as though it were fog. “Hey, you’re a grown up, whatever choices you make, we support you one hundred percent! You just took us off-guard, I’m sorry if we come across as rude. If you’re sure about accepting Beetlejuice’s romantic propositions, then Barbara and I are beyond happy for you!”

“Absolutely stoked, dude!” Barbara puts on her silly deep voice for comedic effect, still fully dedicated to keeping the conversation light despite the deep awkwardness that practically permeates the air around you.

“Um, you guys realize I’m the one who more or less initiated this, right? If anything, he accepted my…romantic gesture.” You hadn’t exactly told them the less-than-family-friendly way that your feelings had been unexpectedly revealed to Beetlejuice due to some lingering sense of dignity and privacy that hadn’t yet left you, but you do have to wonder how long that’ll stay secret considering your new lover’s absolute and utter lack of shame.

“YOU came onto HIM?” This time, it’s Barbara who accidentally lets an exclamation slip out, earning an exasperated facepalm from Adam. You distantly wonder if Lydia’s conversation will go worse than this.

***

“So, how badly did they take the news?”

“They didn’t take it badly.” You resist the urge to look over at the demon who is currently hanging upside down from the ceiling next to your bed in a very relaxed bat-like fashion. Instead, you busy yourself with folding your laundry in neat piles next to you on your sheets. Anything to keep your hands moving.

Beetlejuice lets out a small huff. “You know, you can’t look me in the eye when you’re lying. The laundry isn’t that interesting, and I am literally hanging upside down on nothing. I’m very look-at-able.”

Your eyes dart up to take in his inverted face, one eyebrow raised (or lowered, from your perspective) in challenge. Any intention of snarking back at him dissolves at seeing his cute little expression, clearly proud of his perception. Without answering, you slowly lean forward, take his head in your hands, and softly kiss his lips. It’s an odd sensation to kiss someone upside down, but the two of you make it work. He returns the gesture wholeheartedly and without hesitation, kissing you in a equally gentle manner, yet not forgetting to keep you on your toes by quickly nipping your lip at the end with a sharp fang. He may be sweet with you, but he’s still himself, through and through. Not that you’re complaining.

“That was nice,” he rumbles, from somewhere way in the back of his throat. “But…you can’t kiss me out of this conversation.”

“I mean, it seemed to be working for a minute there.”

He barks out a laugh before twisting his head right side up, the rest of his body following at a delay and landing on the floor below on both feet, like a cat. “It was a valiant effort, babes. But come on, was your conversation really that bad?”

You sigh and toss aside your unfolded clothing to leave a spot on the bed for him to sit, which he readily takes. “I mean, it’s not that it was bad, it’s just…” You struggle for the right words before slumping forwards in defeat. “I don’t know.”

“Hm,” he muses at your words, emotions uncharacteristically imperceptible for a moment. “Babes, you know I won’t be pissed at them for thinking you deserve better than me, right?”

Your eyes snap open in shock and flicker over to Beetlejuice, scanning his neutral expression. Your mouth opens to say something, to assure him, to defend the Maitlands, to say something to make him feel better, but you can’t find any words.

“‘S’okay, you don’t have to say anything. I already expected it.” Beetlejuice moves to put his hand under your chin, thumb coming up to stroke your jawline to cheek. “Honestly, I agree with those two losers. I know you care about me, how could I not when you’re always lovin’ on me and shit? But I still don’t really get why. It wasn’t just to have sex, you’ve stuck around way past getting your rocks off and even willingly gotten into all my emotional fuckery. I don’t understand why. I mean, come on, have you seen yourself? You could easily woo somebody successful who, like, knows how to cook you a meal without explosions, someone who knows how dishwashers actually work, someone who can talk for hours about books, or art, or music, or whatever it is that smart people like you talk about.” He pauses. “…Someone alive. Better than a pathetic demon who just barely got a hold on his emotions after centuries of existence, at least.”

Your heart sinks, and you raise your hand to rest on top of his own hand on your face. “You shouldn’t say such negative things about yourself, for real. I don’t think of you like that, and I’m not leaving you.” You take note of his whole frame subtly tensing at those last words. There’s the sore spot. “I promise.”

His eyes dart to the floor. “…I know.”

You briefly study his reserved features in profile before bringing your hand to his face and turning him to look at you. “I’m not leaving you.”

He meets your gaze shakily. “Okay.” It seems as if he’s holding his breath, despite the fact that he doesn’t have any biological need for air. You’ve noticed that he’ll sometimes make sounds that can only be achieved through intake or outtake of breath, and you wonder if he does it on purpose for dramatic effect or subconsciously to mirror you, like a habit or mannerism picked up from a loved one. But right now, he’s still as a rock.

“Okay,” you repeat back to him, hoping your words were of some comfort. “As for the Maitlands, it’s not like they were against it or anything. They’re just surprised, and they don’t understand yet. But they will over time. Once they see us together.” You squeeze his other hand reassuringly in his lap. “And so will everyone else.”

He quickly jumps back to life after his quiet moment. “Ohhhh fuck, I forgot we have to tell everybody else in this house too. I kinda just wanna rip off the bandaid and tongue kiss you at family movie night and never bring it up so we don’t have to talk about it with all of these dweebs.”

“You absolutely know that Lydia will say something about that.” He’s right that Charles and Delia may be too polite to mention an elephant in the room, but Lydia has certainly never had an issue with being outspoken even if it’s uncomfortable.

Beetlejuice groans, flopping back on the bed. “Yep, you’re totally right. That kid is too blunt for her own good sometimes. Honestly, I’m shocked she hasn’t noticed something going on between us yet, cuz we’d totally know it if she had.”

You flop back onto the bed next to him, ignoring the tower of folded clothes that your head knocks over in the process. “To be fair, it’s only been a little over a week since we…got together.” What a polite way of saying we fucked like rabbits.

“Hm, maybe so, but you can’t deny the rich sexual tension that we’ve had going on for waaayyy longer than that, doll.” He winks at you and sticks out his tongue to punctuate the statement.

You let out a pure belly laugh at his words, playfully nudging his shoulder with your own. “Dumbass.”

Beetlejuice’s grin widens. “Oh, is that how it’s gonna be?” He nudges you back slightly harder, so of course you have to do the same in return to keep your honor intact. Before you know it, he’s on top of you, leaving you unsure if he teleported or simply moved positions very quickly. Cheeks already flushing at the precarious position, you try your best to fight back against him feebly, attempting to throw or push him off and finding no success. Beetlejuice, on the other hand, is just laughing childishly at your predicament as he easily swats away your hands that attempt to push him away.

“I don’t take it back,” you announce stubbornly, still trying to get any sort of leverage on the demon but finding none. He clearly outclasses you in both weight and strength, but you’re not one to let the odds deter you in this game.

“Oho, you’re gonna regret that.” The next time your hand moves to shove at him, Beetlejuice instead deftly catches and holds it by the wrist, immediately doing the same when you bring up your other hand to fight him off. After capturing both of your hands securely, he easily pushes them onto the bed on either side of your head, his nose inches from your own. With you effectively pinned to the bed, his eyes lock with yours in a half-lidded teasing gaze, smirk only growing wider as you squirm beneath him to no avail. “Aww, aren’t you so cute trying to get away from me?”

“This isn’t helping your case of not being an asshole.” If you can’t fight him off physically, you can at least be satisfied a bit by digging your heels into the dirt with your words. The more time you spend being silly with him, the more you understand the joy that he finds in pushing people’s buttons.

Beetlejuice doesn’t respond, and you know him well enough at this point to recognize this as his tell-tale warning sign of impending mischief. Wordlessly, he breaks the locked gaze that he had going with you to look down at the rest of your trapped form. Before you can think of a witty remark, he moves almost faster than you can perceive to press his lips to your neck and blows a raspberry against your skin. Taken completely off guard by this vicious attack, you let out a shriek and begin wiggling around to try and loosen yourself from his grasp, legs kicking but unable to aid you in your escape. He rewards your efforts with a sickly sweet smile and another attack.

“You-hu-hu dick!” Your insult only spreads his smile wider, which in turn makes you want to get out of his grip and launch a counter-attack even more.

“Wow, what a nasty little breather you are. Maybe if you took back your hurtful words, I’d stop.” He demonstrates his ruthlessness by giving you another raspberry right where your neck meets your collarbone, his scruffy beard tickling horribly against your skin and driving you wild. You’re unable to hide your laughter at this point, both at the sensations and his silly antics.

“F-fine! Fine! I take it back! You are NOT an asshole at all! Happy?”

He brings his head back up to brush noses with you, a self-satisfied and victorious grin plastered to his face. “Was that so hard?”

You wrinkle your nose at him as you struggle to catch your breath, trying not to show on your face the overwhelming fondness that is currently washing over you. He’s unspeakably cute above you, delighting in a silly little game, while simultaneously straddling you in a way that’s making it even harder to settle your racing heart. With nothing witty to say, you crane your head forward to lock lips with him again, savoring the sweetness of his joyful surprise. Kissing you does at least make him let go of your hands, his need to touch you outweighing his dedication to your game. Your hands come up to grab at his hair, their new favorite spot to rest, as your kisses intensify. Beetlejuice makes a low noise and slips his long tongue into your mouth, the still-odd but welcome intrusion making you groan lightly. Part of you hopes you never fully get used to the demon’s otherworldly qualities, hopes that the way your stomach flips in surprise at feeling sharp fangs graze against your lips never dulls. You move your lips back against him with this thought in mind.

Knock, knock, knock. The sound of a rapping at your closed but unlocked door immediately pulls the two of you apart, Beetlejuice wearing a sour face at the interruption.

“(Y/N)? Can I come in or what?” The easily recognizable voice of Lydia causes you to practically throw Beetlejuice off from on top of you, and he ungracefully falls off of the bed and onto his backside with a thump. You find yourself caught between mouthing “sorry”’s and waving him away from your bed and hopefully getting across the message to act natural.

“S-sure Lydia, come on in!” You try to straighten yourself out to look presentable and inconspicuous within the next few seconds, too preoccupied with smoothing over your clothes to even check to see what Beetlejuice is doing. Before you have another moment to prepare, the door swings open and in walks the goth teen that you’ve been sharing a house with for the past few months.

“Hey, Delia just wanted me to ask if you’d help with…what are you doing?” Lydia eyes you up from the doorway as you sit with your hands folded politely on your bed.

“Oh, you know, just folding clothes!” You speak in a tone that feels far too cheery coming out of your mouth, but it’s too late for a do-over.

“Uh-huh.” Lydia crosses her arms, her eyes wandering to the knocked-over tower of once-folded clothes next to you that have since become wildly strewn about during your scrap and ensuing makeout session with Beetlejuice. “You’re doing a pretty bad job at it.”

You mentally facepalm. “Ha, yeah, I guess I am…” Your voice trails off awkwardly and you pray for this conversation to be over.

Lydia raises an eyebrow, clearly picking up the odd atmosphere but hopefully not exactly sure where it’s coming from. “Alright.” Her eyes flit over to where you last saw Beetlejuice heading, and only now do you think to follow her gaze and see what he’s up to, to which you immediately wish you hadn’t. He’s floating multiple feet away from your bed, reclined in the air like he doesn’t have a care in the world, licking his finger and flipping through a book that is clearly upside down.

“Oh, hi Lyds! What’s up?” He does finger guns at her, the book still floating in place without his touch.

Lydia furrows her brow. “Dude, what’s wrong with your hair?” You snap back into reality with this statement as you realize that BJ’s hair is a gradient of light pink to a slightly darker fuchsia starting at his roots, probably not a color that anyone has really seen on him but you.

Beetlejuice’s face falls. “Uh. Well. You know.” He visibly struggles for words. “Romance novel. Heh.” He gestures to the book, which very prominently reads INTRO TO PHYSICS in bold letters across the front, not to mention the fact that it is still very much upside down.

Lydia nods as if that clears it all up. “Ahh, riiiight.” She turns back to you. “Anyways, Delia wanted me to ask if you’d help cut vegetables or whatever for dinner…”

You clasp your hands together as if nothing on this Earth could bring you more joy than slicing up some carrots for Delia. “Oh, of course! Tell her I’ll be right down, thanks for relaying the message!” You also do finger guns at her for no reason.

“Will do, weirdo.” She turns on her heels and shuts the door behind her without another word. You and Beetlejuice both let out a sigh of relief and you practically collapse back on the bed.

Beetlejuice floats over and collapses next to you, his body facing the opposite direction of yours. “Okay, so she definitely knows something is up.”

***

Those carrots never could’ve seen it coming, I chopped them up so well. You take a bite of the steaming hot home-cooked dinner that you lightly contributed to with satisfaction. The rest of the family eats at their usual seats at the table, conversing about whatever random topics to fill the silence between bites of food. Adam and Barbara have plates of food as well, despite not physically needing to eat. You figure it’s more of an etiquette thing with them. Beetlejuice also has his own plate, but it’s one of those children’s paper plates with an animal face on it, which is the only thing he is allowed to use ever since he proved that he cannot be trusted with the nice glass plates. You can feel his eyes on you as you eat. He’s possibly the least subtle person in the world, living or non.

“So yeah, I think I singed my eyebrows mostly off but I did get an A on my chemistry project, so it’s all cool,” Lydia concludes her story for the family, which you realize that you were accidentally zoned out for the majority of.

“Hey, careful, we don’t need any more ghosts around here!” Adam jokes, making a ribbing motion towards Lydia in the most over-the-top dad-like way.

Charles laughs through a bite of mashed potatoes. “Well, that’s certainly one way to pass a class! You’re absolutely your mother’s daughter, Lydia. You know, Emily pulled nearly that same trick when she was still in college. She’d be proud to know you’re carrying on the family legacy!”

Lydia smiles, a genuine smile that she doesn’t try to hide or diminish. “Heh, wow. That’s pretty awesome, dad.” She finishes the last bite of her meal and glances over at Beetlejuice. “Wow BJ, you haven’t even touched your slop yet.”

Beetlejuice jolts as he’s called out, and spares a look down at his plate. “Slop” is the right word for it, considering that he seems to have just poured all of his food into one big mixed-up pile like a nasty lunatic, the carrots indistinguishable from the meat and all of them lost in a sea of gravy together. Without a word, he unhinges his jaw like a snake and tosses the entire concoction down his gullet whole, swallowing everything (yes, including the plate itself) in one bite with an exaggerated gulp sound effect. He gives a thumbs up at Lydia with an unchanged blank expression, which doesn’t exactly do much to make him seem more normal.

Lydia makes a weird face at him. “Okay man, what gives? You’ve been acting weird as hell lately, and not your regular weird. You gonna let us in on what’s up or keep being all cagey?”

In your peripheral vision, you see the Maitlands immediately seem to decide that their plates just magically became the most interesting things in the room, and very worthy of their close scrutiny. You feel stuck between saying something to help out the petrified-looking demon across the table from you and staying silent to avoid further incriminating yourself.

Delia’s singsong voice breaks you from your trance. “Okay! I am uncomfortable with the energy at this dinner table and would like to move on…!” She clasps her hands together whimsically. “Now then, I have a new and exciting plan. Let’s clean up these dishes and all watch a m-“

“I slept with (Y/N).”

…Horror. That’s the only word that you can possibly use to describe your emotions in this exact moment. And from where you assume your soul is now floating outside of your body, you can see that you’re not alone, as Beetlejuice is currently the epicenter of horrified looks from everyone in the room. He slowly turns to look at you, his head seeming as though it should be making a pathetic creaking noise. His eyes are stretched so wide that they look like they could bulge out at any moment, looking dead ahead with his lips pulled tight into a long, flat line. Without a word being uttered from anyone at the table, he begins to sink into the floor. Literally. Beetlejuice slowly phases straight through the chair, into the floor, and out of sight. And just like that, he is gone. You distantly wonder if you should start cursing his name or if you’re just jealous that he has the ability to do that right about now.

Lydia finally pipes up. “Wow, you guys are shit at keeping secrets.”

***

After what you can confidently call the most awkward family conversation of your entire life, you finally make it back to your room and shut the door behind you, slumping against it in defeat. That was NOT how I originally wanted that conversation to go. I’m lucky that Lydia, Charles, and Delia were pretty chill about the whole deal, all things considered.

A rustling from your vintage armoire (perks of a pre-furnished room) snaps you back into reality. You take a tentative step towards the closed brown doors and press a hand to the old wood. The rustling stops abruptly.

“…Beetlejuice?” You call out softly, drumming your fingers against the door in a pseudo-knock. A small rustle answers you, and nothing more.

You move your fingers to lift the latch lock into its unlocked position and slowly creak both doors open. There, under your waterfall of hanging clothes, lies Beetlejuice: curled up in a little ball, hair a deep shade of purple, looking up at you with puffy dark eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, before you can even get a word out. “I’m stupid. Good for nothin’. I ruined your plan to tell everyone about us nicely.” You open your mouth, but he holds up a hand dramatically. “N-no need to say anything. I’ll go be a disappointment in someone else’s boudoir.” He materializes a small bindle over his shoulder and moves his hand up to snap himself somewhere else.

“Hey, wait, don’t go.” You gently grab his hand that he was about use to snap himself away, more of a symbolic gesture to stay than anything. “You’re not any of those things, and I don’t want you to leave.”

“I…” A look of slight surprise graces his forlorn face at both your words and touch. His earnest eyes seem to be searching your own for any sign of lies, and, finding none, he lowers his hand from your touch and disappears the bindle. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I really didn’t.” His voice has such a vulnerable touch to it, like a dog who had grown accustomed to being kicked and couldn’t find it in himself to expect any different. It truly breaks your heart to see, despite the lingering sense of embarrassment from dinner.

You sit outside of the large dresser, crossing your legs and leaning against its frame. “I know, bug. I’m not mad at you. I mean, I would’ve preferred maybe a softer phrasing if we had any control, but Lydia put you on the spot and we hadn’t even talked about how we would say it. It’s okay.” You bring your hand up to gently pet his hair, testing his reception to physical comfort right now. You get your answer when he leans into your hand with his entire head almost immediately.

“No kidding…kid had our number, babes. Or at least mine. But hey, least I didn’t say it like we bumped uglies or anything, I was pretty close and what I did say was all else I could think of right then. Mind couldn’t keep up with my mouth.” He lets out a labored sigh and smushes more of his face up against your hand like a particularly affectionate cat.

You give a small grin at his head bumps of love. “Yeah, well I have firsthand experience with how fast your mouth can be, so that checks out.”

A giggle that Beetlejuice couldn’t quite hold back slips out, a melodic sound to you. “Making sex jokes isn’t fair. You know I’ll always laugh at sex jokes.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I do know it.” You sit up on your haunches and lean in to lightly pepper his face with tiny kisses, only worsening the demon’s grip on his composure. The giggles that start to pour out of him uncontrollably are infectious, and you quickly find yourself unable to hold back your own. You continue your attack, enjoying the view as you watch tips of light pink begin to crawl up a few of his purple hair strands without his knowledge. After a good bit of shared laughter at your unrelenting kisses, Beetlejuice finally catches your mouth with his own. The feeling of his smile against your lips is sweeter than candy, and succeeds at making you forget all of your troubles for as long as it lasts. You suspect that he feels the same, considering that you are always, without fail, the first one to break away from every kiss due to your inconvenient need for oxygen. If it were up to him, you two might not ever come up for air.

When you pull back from him breathlessly, Beetlejuice’s eyes remain fixed on you, soft and almost perplexed as he searches for something unknowable in your expression. “Why do you love me back?” His voice comes out as a whisper despite the two of you being alone, as if he’s frightened what the walls of the home will think upon hearing his weakness.

“Oh, Beetlejuice…” You feel your loving gaze that remains locked onto him become tinged with layers of sadness, pitying the man who just can’t see himself the way you do. You reason that the best you can do is try to paint him a picture of your vision. “Where to even begin…? I can’t even say when or where I first fell in love with you, it’s like, I just realized one day that it had already happened to me without asking my permission. Yeah, I was really physically attracted to you, as we’re both well aware by now, but it’s more than that. I never wanted you to be just a hookup without anything past that.” Your hand finds its way to his own, an anchor to real life as you struggle to put your feelings to words in a way that will help him. “Beetlejuice, I love spending time with you. You’re the funniest person I know, and I’ve never had a dull moment with you. I could spend years watching bad movies and pranking the Maitlands with you and never get tired of your company. And, maybe my favorite thing about you is, try as you might sometimes, you can never actually hide how much you care about the people you love. I mean, you and Lydia squabble, but that kid is so important to you, I can see it. If she ever came home and said a teacher was picking on her, you’d probably go light their house on fire for being mean to your friend. That’s, like, the most attractive thing ever, if we’re being real here.” You’re blushing red hot at the earnest nature of your own words but do your best to keep your eyes from darting away bashfully. “Look, I…I wish I could say it better, so that you wouldn’t have to feel like you’re not good enough ever again. I wish I could fix things for you with pure strength of will, because I would be able to do it in a heartbeat. It kills me to know that you don’t always see yourself as worthwhile and lovable. I know you have stuff to work through, and honestly, so do I, but I wanna be with you to see it through. I’m all in, baby, you’re never getting rid of me. And I really do love you, so, so much.”

When you finally can savor your breath again after talking for so long without much pause and really take Beetlejuice in, you see two dark eyes looking back at you through a stream of tears. While one hand is still holding onto yours, the other is pressed up against his mouth tightly by his palm, as though to keep any sounds locked deep inside of him. Even so, he can’t quite stop a small sob from shaking his body, then another.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you attempt to soothe, craning your head to rest against his side, your chin grazing his lap as you look up at him. A more intimate touch, but not domineering and overwhelming, you hope.

Beetlejuice lets go of your hand to wipe at his eyes frantically, trying to clear away tears as more just keep flowing out of him. Now that he’s let one sob slip through, he seems to have fully lost his control as his body is wracked by more and more against his will. “I-I’m sorry, sorry…”

“Please don’t be.” You keep your head pressed against his side in a way that you hope is comforting to him. For a few moments, the two of you just sit there without speaking. You, praying that what you said was worded correctly, and Beetlejuice, trying and failing to stifle his weeping for so long and so hard that it eventually just dissolves into quiet hiccups.

After a bit of silence, Beetlejuice finally seems to calm down. “Wow, that was really embarrassing.” He speaks still lower than usual, but closer to his normal register.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry, that was supposed to make you feel better,” you sigh, bringing your head back up to be level with him (more like a bit below him, as the armoire’s bottom shelf is slightly above the ground level where you sit).

“No, s’okay. I think that was good for me to hear from you, probably. It was just…a lot. ‘Specially for someone who tries to avoid dealing with emotional crap as much as possible.” He turns to look at you, really look at you, for the first time since he broke down crying. “N-not saying what you said to me was crap! Not at all, don’t get me wrong. Just kinda…overwhelming, getting told so much good stuff about me at one time. Not used to it, kinda freaked me out in the moment. Buncha criticism at once, sure, that’s an average Tuesday, but that’s different.”

You smile lightly at his words, taking note of the purple beginning to fade from his hair and being replaced with his usual green, in addition to streaks of light pink. “I meant everything I said, y’know. Those are just a few of the reasons that you’re stuck with me, I could give you a list triple that size if I had some ample prep time and a better grasp on flowery love language.”

“Heh, you are too cute. C’mere.” Beetlejuice grabs your entire torso clumsily by wrapping his arms around you and pulling you up and into the armoire, crashing your entire body against his lounging form. The two of you go from fully separated to tangled together in a tight space very quickly, leaving you to yelp in surprise as you try to adjust your positioning without much room to do so. The fact that the bottom portion of the armoire has a lip that comes up a few inches in front of where the doors close is all that separates you from losing your balance and falling right out. Kind of a miracle we’re not breaking right through this! Not sure if that’s demon magic or if this old thing is just sturdy as hell.

Try as you might, your legs being all tangled up and too long for the space keeps you from properly lifting yourself off of him for more than a second. “Well, I’m right here now, bug. Better?” As if to punctuate this, you lose your bracing and drop yourself with a thunk back onto his chest, which shakes below you with laughter at your predicament.

“Oh yeah babes, nice to see you still can’t keep yourself off of me.” Beetlejuice snickers, but does help your slippery ass out by pushing your chest backwards a bit, making you sit up more securely and straddle him on your knees.

You look down at him from your improved vantage point, taking in his mischievous little expression and wondering how long that’s been plastered on his face. “And just what are you thinking about right now?”

He meets your questioning eyes, sly smile only growing. “Oh, nothing. Just that I’ve never had sex in a boudoir before.”

“Baby, I can barely fit in here with you, I have no idea how sex could even take place in here.” As you speak, you also become aware of the clothing hanging just above your head, and do giggle to yourself at the idea of repeatedly smacking your head against a pair of pants in this scenario.

“Well that’s ‘cuz you’re not using your imagination, my love.” You feel his hands move down to grope at your ass as he teasingly enunciates your little pet name. “It’s fine though, it is a little shallow for two in here.” With that, he poofs the two of you onto your own bed, and you sprawl out gratefully on top of him, stretching your cramped limbs out.

“Sorry bug, my human body can’t be contorted that way for very long like yours can.” Your joints pop in relief as you go full starfish on top of your demon boyfriend, snuggling your head up against his chest. “I’ll do anything else you want, as long as I’m not smushed into a box to fuck.”

“Anything?” The tone in his voice makes it seem like his ears have perked up at your words in extreme interest.

You lift your head off of his chest to look him in the eye, a playful glint in your own. “Ah, it sounds to me like you might already have an idea here.”

Beetlejuice’s eyes quickly dart away, his cheeks flushed pink. “Ah, I mean- not, y’know, necessarily per se…” His defensive mumbles fade into unintelligible hums as he twiddles his fingers nervously.

“You’re cute when you’re shy.” You bump your forehead against his, forcing him to look at you since your eyes are mere inches from his own. “Y’know, it’s just about the only time you don’t have a clever comeback.” The mumbles that he makes in response only prove your point and make you giggle, pulling your head back and rolling over to lay next to him. “But really, BJ, you can tell me. You know I won’t laugh or think you’re weird….er than usual.”

He fidgets with the fabric of the sheets beneath him. “I know you won’t, I just…” He falls silent, seeming at war with himself over what to do. Being this coy about matters of sex is extremely odd for Beetlejuice, which of course, only piques your interest on what he could be so hesitant about even more.

You place your hand on his bicep, wishing that he’d ditched the classic striped suit before the conversation started so you could feel his cool skin underneath. “Hey, I know I’ve mostly taken the lead the few times we’ve had sex since getting together, but it doesn’t have to be that way every time. You know I’m willing to try different stuff if it’s with you. The real question is, what do you want to do?”

“I mean- I just like whatever you like, you know th-“

“Beetlejuice.” His eyes finally flick back over to make contact with yours, the power of you saying his full name is enough to get his attention on you and his mind out of his own thoughts a little. Your eyes soften at his hesitance. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. Your thoughts matter to me. Promise.”

He seems to visibly soothe under your reassurances, though his face is still a bit twisted up. “I just- I mean, I guess I’ve always wanted to…” He drapes an open palm over his red-hot face, ever the drama queen.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe try, like, I dunno…hunting you down like a demon would and fucking you ‘til you forget your own name…” He chances a single glance at you through his fingers. “Something like that?” His words were spoken at about three times his normal speed, but you made sure not to miss a single syllable of that confession.

“Oh? Is that so?” You drag your words out in a sweet tone, relishing the way that he peeks at you from behind his strategically draped hand. “You wanna give me the full haunted house demon treatment before fucking me?”

Beetlejuice sits fully up, no longer able to stay reclined back on the bed or hide his enthusiasm as he talks. “Yes, yes, God yes, please, I h-haven’t thought of anything else in so long…! I wanna use my powers on you too, y’know, only if you’d be okay with that…” The floodgates have opened, and his eyes peer down at you with a vicious mix of lust and approval-seeking.

You meet his gaze with a half-lidded smile, sitting up to mirror his position. “Abso-fucking-lutely. Okay, don’t even say too much now, I’ve just decided I want you to completely surprise me on this.”

Uncertainty shrouds his expression. “You’re really okay with being scared by me, like that?”

You grin at his concern for you, internally cooing over how cute he’s being about such a lewd idea. “Baby, I hope I feel more scared than I’ve ever been before and powerless against such a big, scary demon, too. I know you respect me and wouldn’t cross any boundary that I didn’t want crossed, especially since we just the other day talked about the specifics in that department. We can use the same stoplight safeword setup as we have before, that seemed to work pretty well. So, think you can do that for me? Make me feel like I’m at the mercy of some terrifying ghost haunting my house before making me cum my brains out?”

He suppresses a groan, from far deep down in his chest. “Fuck, y-yeah, I think I can do that. Y’know, as a favor to your horny self, of course. Since you asked and all.”

You let out a giggle at his antics. “What, are you trying to tell me that it doesn’t make you horny to think about? That doesn’t sound like the Beej I know. I’m pretty sure you were at half-mast yesterday when I was just washing a zucchini in the kitchen.”

He grumbles defensively, crossing his arms but leaning in to push his shoulder into yours. “Well, try not to wash it so sluttily next time, I dunno…” His eyes dart away in embarrassment at being called out. “And hey, just a warning, but you might not be able to keep up with me if I go all-out. Remember when I told you that demons have a refractory period of like, 3.5 seconds? I wasn’t exaggerating, for once. So don’t be afraid to tell me when your little mortal body can’t take anymore.”

You have the ill-advised gall to laugh at this. “I’m not too worried about it. I’ve never had trouble keeping up with your needy ass before, so I think I’ll survive.”

Beetlejuice shrugs at your nonchalance. “Hm, if you say so. Just remember that I said it later.” He leans forward to rest his chin on his hands, as though he were preparing to gossip in bed with you. “Now, the real question is, when are we gonna get freak-ay? We do not have the amount of privacy that I’m sure you’ll want for this sorta event very often in this crowded-ass house.”

You lean forward to mirror his pose, both of you now looking like girls sharing secrets at a sleepover. “Well, I happen to know that everyone is planning to go out all day tomorrow. Including the Maitlands for once, since Lydia found out that they can possess objects and tag along for outside adventures Annabelle-style last month. Which I’d say, works out great for a human that will be home alone in the evening with the whole house to themself, eerily quiet and empty. Sure hope nothing happens.” Your demon’s pupils quickly become big round pools of inky blackness that engulf the surrounding brown iris as you say this, his body clearly giving away his interest in this idea. You flash him a knowing smirk, feeling the urge to be mean and tease him just a bit more than you should rear its head. “Think you can be patient enough to wait for it, or do you need me to give you a quick blowjob now to tide you over? I mean, I’m gonna make you wait either way, but I think I’d like to hear you ask nicely for it. Just for fun.”

As you finish speaking, Beetlejuice’s entire posture shifts in a way that you’ve never seen before. You swear that he looks slightly taller after adjusting himself to look directly at you, eyes narrowed but pupils still overtaking all of the surrounding color, fully locked on to your smaller form. “Oh-ho, my sweet, foolish little breather. I’d be more worried about yourself for the time being if I were you.” His self-satisfied smile shows off his fangs, looking even pointier than usual pressed against his bottom lip. “Now, I know you said you wanna be surprised, but I will say just one thing.” He brings a clawed hand to your cheek, stroking the soft skin gently, as though you were made of porcelain. “Make sure that tomorrow night, you’re wearing clothes that you don’t mind being ripped to shreds.” His words, spoken at a deep and salacious growl that is new to you, send a spark from the top of your spine that travels down through your entire lower body. Your visible shiver causes Beetlejuice’s slight smile to become a full grin at your reaction, and you nearly miss the intertwined streak of red and fuchsia swiftly sear its way through his hair.

You struggle to find the words to respond, his ability to turn the tables so quick has left you utterly reeling. “Uh, yeah, I can- I can do that.” And we’ve barely even begun. Maybe I really have bitten off more than I can chew.

“Good,” Beetlejuice purrs, stroking your face with claws that seem to be growing sharper by the second against your cheek. He runs them under your jawline by their tips, little pinpricks that tickle but also threaten to break the skin if he were to apply any pressure. “Oh, and uh, one more thing, my love.”

You can’t help you gulp that escapes you as his thumb and forefinger grab hold of your chin and hold you in place. “Y-yes?”

Anticipation dances behind his pretty brown eyes forebodingly. “If you run and hide from me, you’d better not let me catch you.” And just like that, it’s as though you blinked and he disappeared from your sight in an instant.

***

You adjust yourself on the living room sofa, flipping through TV channels absentmindedly. You have certainly not forgotten what Beetlejuice said to you before disappearing. On top of that, he’s made you a hyper-vigilant mess by not showing up again for the rest of the previous night and into this evening, the longest that you’ve gone without at least a pop-in visit from him since getting together. Everyone else was still gone for the day, having a lovely time out on the town, you assume. They had all said how bad they felt for leaving you behind on a family fun day, but you had fibbed a bit and told them not to worry since you were too busy with work to plan a full day out right now. Work, indeed.

A loud clap of thunder interrupts your thoughts, making you jump in surprise before sighing in relief. Hope the family isn’t getting rained out of their fun, whatever they’re doing out there. The wind is whistling outside as rain whips itself across the house with no signs of stopping. The pounding of the rain against the rooftops was creating a nice dull melody that you would to relax to, that is, if you were capable of relaxing right now. You wonder whether Beetlejuice might have any kind of influence over the weather or if the universe was just on his side for tonight. You’d by lying if you said you weren’t on edge, feeling like you’ve been standing on the edge of a precarious cliff as soon as the family left the house. He must know that you’ve been home alone for hours now, and yet he still hasn’t appeared. Unless, of course, he’s hiding in the house right now, invisible to your human eyes whenever and wherever he wants to be. As far as you know, he could be standing inches away from you, and you would be none the wiser until he chose to make himself known.

You vaguely regret the fact that you’d bent to your impulses and teased at making him wait for sex, for a multitude of reasons. A pent-up and horny Beetlejuice is an unpredictable Beetlejuice, especially when you throw in the fact that you asked him to be as rough and monstrous as possible tonight into the mix. Dread isn’t exactly the right word for what you feel, but it isn’t quite as small and easily explainable an emotion as mere anticipation either. You want him to appear more than anything, and yet all of the hair on your arms stands on end when you imagine what he’ll do when he does show up. You’ve been frustratingly wet for hours at the idea of it, unable to focus on anything else, but you haven’t touched yourself out of fear of him silently watching to see if you succumb to your own desire again, needy and impatient and desperate all because of him. The last thing he needs is such a monumental ego boost. If his goal is to play mind games and get inside my head, it’s working. You bitterly admire the restraint he’s displaying that you never would’ve imagined in a million years that he possessed.

Suddenly, another boom of thunder shakes the house, taking the lights and TV out with it and drenching you in darkness. A power outage. Awesome. Okay, stay calm. You feel around the couch cushions for your phone, but it’s nowhere to be found. Shit, I must’ve left my phone upstairs, so no dice on that flashlight for now… You quickly brainstorm an option that doesn’t feature you having to crawl up a staircase in complete darkness. Oh wait, I think Delia left some candles downstairs the other day after a long terrace meditation session! Standing up and trying to keep your balance as your eyes adjust to the sudden lack of light overtaking the house, you try to remember where the candles were last being stored. I think I saw them last when Delia was putting them in that kitchen drawer by the sink…I think.

Unsteadily, you step away from the couch and proceed in the direction of the kitchen. You’re starting to be able to make out general shapes of items in your path, but the darkness is so all-consuming that it can be hard to tell what’s real and what isn’t. You tiptoe around what could be a chair or just a dark shadow in the shape of one, taking care to reach out and touch the doorway to the kitchen with the delicate tips of your fingers before gently creaking it open. It makes far more sound in the process of opening than you would like, which you proceed to feel silly about worrying over considering that Beetlejuice is most likely not even here if he hasn’t made himself known yet. You feel you can pretty confidently conclude that he wouldn’t have this much patience, not when you’re so clearly right out in the open and defenseless.

With the door full and loudly open, you slip through and into the main kitchen area. Feeling around for the correct cabinet, you finally reach the one you were hunting for and pull the drawer out slowly. Using mostly touch, you feel around inside for the distinct texture of the long wax candle that Delia was holding in your memory, your hand skittering around the menagerie of unseeable items until your fingers finally graze its smooth surface. Your feeling of success is immediately extinguished when you hear a dull thud from the living room through the door, like the sound of something heavy being placed on the floor just a bit too quickly. At this noise, your hair immediately stands on end and you shrink towards the ground on instinct. You can’t quite see through the door at the angle you’re at, but you keep your eyes glued on the doorframe anyway. After a few moments of only utter silence following, you slowly rise back to full height. Maybe I am on edge enough to be imagining things. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard a phantom sound while I’m home alone that turned out to be nothing.

Steeling your nerves, you return your hands to the drawer to feel around for a candle lighter, keeping your body faced towards the doorway and your back facing nothing but an empty corner. The rain continues to pound against the house, lessening your sharp hearing abilities a bit with its unyielding dull roar. It’s taking you longer to find the lighter now, considering how you’re attempting to be careful to not disturb the various items in the drawer so as to make the least amount of sound possible. But the mixture of being unable to find the lighter and being on high alert from the random noise is making your heart race, and making you increasingly sloppy in your work of rustling around the drawer. You’re actually beginning to pant as you try to quicken the speed of your hands, ears ringing as you search fruitlessly for this godforsaken lighter and become only worse and worse at the task. You swear you see something move in the kitchen out of the corner of your eye, but nothing has come through the door and all of the shadows feel as though they’re closing in and grabbing at you, so you ignore your mind’s alarm bells and begin rifling through the drawer with reckless abandon. You feel as though you’re reaching a breaking point of some sort when finally, finally, you feel the cool plastic of the lighter beneath your touch. You let a shaky breath out, grasping the lighter and clicking in the button to produce a small flame.

Just as the flame sparks to life, lighting up your world just that small but significant bit, you feel your stomach drop in a way that tells you something is deeply, deeply wrong. It’s an old gut feeling, one so ancient and instinctual that it feels utterly impossible to ignore. The flame goes out, despite you still holding the button down. Before you have a chance to truly take this emotion in, you feel an unnatural chill that starts at your neck and runs all the way down your spine. You reach up to cover your neck reflexively, only for the same sensation to hit your fingers and the exposed bits of neck around it, closer and more intense. It’s only now that you realize what exactly is causing this chill against you. Breath. Cold, inhuman breath. A flat, unconvincing charade of your own breathing, carving a space for itself in the uncanny valley due to how incorrect it feels. Not only is it cold, but the breaths don’t have proper breaks between them, and they shift from being far too short to far too long to ever pass as natural. You realize upon this consideration that you’ve been frozen for more time than you meant to be, and quickly whip your body around to come face-to-face with the source of this “breathing.” But when you turn around, you’re merely greeted by empty air, same as it was before. Except that now, you feel the same breath on your neck from behind you again, causing you to once again try to turn fast enough to catch the source. And again, you fail.

Suddenly, you see a ripple in the shadows in front of you and feel a pressure push itself against your body. You scream on impulse at the contact and jump backwards, dropping your wax candle and accidentally knocking a bowl that had been left on the kitchen counter to the floor in the process, where it shatters on impact. With no time to react, you feel yourself pushed up against the same wall you had fearfully jumped towards by the same heavy force as before. You’re rendered completely immobile in seconds, some invisible, freezing cold strength holding you in place against the wall. Your arms are pinned up by your head, with most of the presence being on your torso to keep you in place. On top of the otherworldly force, you feel phantom hands begin to travel all over your body, too many to count. Over your throat, your chest, your legs, your ass. Scratching down your arms, you can barely see in the darkness as small red marks appear on them out of thin air. Without any warning, you feel something wet that you cannot see make contact with your exposed collarbone and drag its way up your neck, deliciously slow, as though you were being savored. At the same time, something sharp digs into both of your thighs at once, five little pinpricks of that grace the underside of each leg as they are lifted up and into the air, dangling uselessly. You can’t tell if blood is being drawn, but it hurts enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Hurts so good. Hurts so good.

“B-Beetlejuice…” Your breathy moan pierces the otherwise silent room, and the wet appendage is pulled away from your throat slowly and deliberately. The pinpricks are lifted from your thighs and your feet come back to rest on the ground.

The shadows once again ripple, but this time, you can finally see him there, inches away from your face. His usually soft and pleasant features are so sharp and monstrous upon his self-reveal that it makes you jump a bit just to see him. He’s tall, unmistakably taller than his usual height, and looming over you with the hunched posture of a recently-transformed werewolf, some creature who was all bent out of its natural shape. Everything otherworldly about him is exaggerated, you notice, as your eyes rake over his fangs, which have become long enough to look like they could seriously do some damage in addition to his other usually-normal teeth looking sharp enough to hurt you as well. His claws are filed into sharp points, his tongue appears to have developed a fork at the tip on top of its impressive length, and his pupils have completely shifted into small black slits. A bright lightning strike pours through the large kitchen window and lights up the house for but a second to reveal his changed form more clearly to you, the black and white stripes covering his form reminding you of the hypnotically beautiful warning markings of a venomous creature. In the momentary flash, his eyes, mere inches away from yours, reflect back the light and shine bright white like the eyes of some nocturnal animal. The expression in those eyes is wild and feral, and while you’ve certainly seen Beetlejuice’s expression full of desperation and lust, this is the first time that you’ve felt like he’s ready to pounce and take whatever he wants from you. Not to mention the mixture of red and fuchsia lighting up his hair even in this darkness, a combination that you’ve never seen overtake him before.

“Mmm, I could cum from your delicious screams alone,” his voice rasps next to your ear, having an additional deep growl to his every word that you’re certain only a demon could produce, his usual tone mixing with something darker layered beneath it. It rumbles against your skin and causes another shiver to shoot up your spine, making your entire body shudder under his hold. He gives a look that you can assume is deep satisfaction with himself, pressing his face to your neck and inhaling deeply. “Gimme a color, babes.”

You gulp, not prepared to force words out of your dry throat. “G-green.”

You feel him smile against your skin. “Good. You tell me if that changes.” He pulls his head back to really take you in. You must look like a wreck, eyes clouded over with terror and desire, already clearly a horny mess from hours of waiting. Whatever state you’re in, it must please Beetlejuice to see, as he can’t seem to stop raking his eyes up and down your figure. “Okay, you want monster, how about this…I’m gonna give you ten seconds to decide whether you’re gonna run and hide like prey, or stand here and take it like a champ. Your call, but I will say this: if you can successfully hide from me, I’ll make it worth your while. This night can still become all about you, I can put all my focus into getting you off like a good little demon. But, if you decide to run, and I catch you, I’m gonna use you. I’m gonna make you get me off again and again and again, and I’m gonna keep fucking you like my own little personal toy ‘til I’ve used every last little bit of you up. However long that takes.” There’s no hiding the bulge that rubs up against your thigh as he lays out this last part of the agreement. “So. Deal?”

Your mouth runs dry at his proposal, but not out of distaste, or any true fear. It’s something much more entrancing that holds you in place, warmth pooling between your legs before you finally speak, your voice sounding far less stable than you’d like. “Deal.”

A devilish smirk makes its way across Beetlejuice’s features, and he puts his hand out to shake on it. Even when he’s taking charge, it seems he can’t help but still be at least a little bit of a dork about it. You reach out to take his offered hand and he squeezes your own with more force than necessary before moving both of your hands up and down emphatically. Satisfied, he lets you go for the moment. “Your ten seconds begin now.”

It’s not even a question when you tear off towards the living room, through the kitchen door which swings aimlessly behind you due to the rush of your swift exit. Behind you, you can hear harsh laughter growing distant as you run. Your eyes quickly search your surroundings as you sprint carefully across the length of the dining room (at least, as much as you can safely sprint in this darkness). The house has only so many rooms, but is quite spread out and full of potential objects to conceal yourself behind, or under. The problem is, you have mere seconds to get into place and your brain is currently mixed up in a swirling whirlpool of arousal and pure prey drive that is greatly affecting your ability to locate a proper hiding space. You have no idea if it’s been one second or nine seconds by the time you reach the couch that you had been sitting on not too long ago, and hopelessly try not to lose yourself to panic as you scan the room at light speed. Both the Deetz and Maitland families kept the house fairly free of unnecessary clutter, which on any other day, would be a perk to living in their shared house. Not so much when a demon is hunting you.

Just as you’re starting to get overwhelmed by the feeling that you’ve lost before you’ve even begun, you notice that there’s a small space between one of the living room sofa chairs and the wall that would probably be just big enough for you to squeeze behind. Having no other option readily available, you practically hurl yourself into the crevice. You harshly smack your right forearm on the armrest of the cushioned chair on the way down but pay it no mind, draping a blanket that had been sitting on the lap of the chair to hang slightly over your head so as to better conceal yourself. Just as you finish adjusting your hiding place, you hear the door to the kitchen slam with terrifying power.

“Oho, my little breather, don’t you know that the quickest way to get a predator to chase you is to run?” His voice is ice cold yet tinged with a bit of humor, but whatever the joke is, you’re clearly not in on it. He’s laughed at you plenty before, but it’s usually benign and lightly teasing, not the hissing, cruel laughter that seems to encircle and taunt you now. You hear footsteps begin to fall, loud stomps that seem to echo through the room and make it difficult to pinpoint which direction he’s headed. That is, until they start to head distinctly closer.

You try to calm your breathing, which is still heavy and labored due to your mad dash from the kitchen. Your racing heart certainly isn’t doing you any favors in this regard, only adding to your stifled gasps for air. You put a hand over your own mouth, doing your best to quiet your stupid human noises as the sound of your demon’s footsteps grow closer and closer. Even as you do, you feel your lungs greedily pleading for more air than you can currently offer, and breathing through your nose does little to quiet your body’s demands. As you sit in your makeshift nest like a quail trying not to startle and take flight, the realization dawns on you much too late that you have been fighting a losing battle. This wasn’t a fair deal, it was a game, and this game was clearly stacked in his favor. You should’ve know you can’t hide from a demon in his own house, not when he hadn’t even put a time limit on the deal! You mentally berate yourself for being so foolish, getting tricked into playing a game that could never be won. Or maybe he didn’t really trick you; maybe on some level, you knew you wanted to lose to him, before losing yourself in him. A deal with a devil you were destined to regret from the start. These thoughts buzz around your mind incessantly, feeling louder than your heartbeat and heavy breathing combined.

A feral growl snaps you from your mind’s tangent, so close to your hiding spot and yet not quite on top of it yet. “It’s no use, I can smell you.” You heard him audibly sniff the air. “Hmm, you smell like fear, the fear of someone who knows just how outmatched and, well, how fucked they really are, but it’s all mixed up with the smell of your lust. I’d never mistake that combination in a million human lifetimes. So sweet, so perfect, you’re making me drool here, doll…”

Your treacherous heart quickens at his words, and you pray that he can’t hear it pounding away in your chest. You’re internally pleading for the pouring rain outside to mask any smaller sounds that you make, but you don’t count on any favors from the universe today.

“Hmm…” You can hear the smile in his voice, and the implications of this worry you greatly. “You know, you act like you’re so mature and unknowable compared to me, but I can read you like a book. I can smell how wet you are for me, how much you’ve been absolutely gagging for it since last night. Y’know, I’m kinda shocked you didn’t just fingerblast yourself on the couch like a needy little whore after I made you wait so long. I know you wanted to. Bet you couldn’t think about anything else all night.”

You feel your face completely flush, biting down on the hand that you’ve been using for covering your mouth to keep from making any sound. He thinks he can get me to break by his words alone, but he’s wrong. I’m not going down that easily. After speaking, you notice that his stomping footsteps have halted, as though he’s standing frozen with his ears pricked up to listen for you to falter. You hold steady, difficult as it is. Without warning, a loud CRASH rings out, making you jolt in place. For a moment, your brain registers it as a thunderclap, before quickly realizing that Beetlejuice had in fact violently flipped over some large piece of furniture in the living room, uprooting it in his search for you. Or just to frighten you. Take your pick.

“I’m starting to get impatient with you, little bird,” he snarls, pacing around the large room and forcefully pushing away seemingly anything that finds itself in his path. “The longer you make me wait, the worse it’ll be when I eventually catch you. And I will catch you. You can’t hide from a demon for very long.” As he speaks, you hear another sound ever so faintly, but one that immediately makes you press your thighs together painfully. The unmistakable sound of Beetlejuice roughly pumping his own cock. It’s increasingly evident that he might be getting off on this even more than you are, which is quite a feat.

You suppress a pleasurable shudder, as well as the desire to join him. Your thighs rub together in a sad attempt to find friction, instead just making you feel more like a desperate caged animal. You hear him let out a small moan from across the room, and can’t help the way that your breath hitches in your throat before coming out as the smallest whine, barely crossing the threshold of your parted lips against your will before you hurriedly clamp your mouth down around it. Even so, you hear Beetlejuice’s various noises immediately stop all at once, before he begins stalking in your direction again. Every footstep that falls on the floor feels as though it’s signaling your end, a dark shadow creeping closer that is just barely visible on the ground and wall to your side, outside of the chair and blanket’s cover. In a surprising moment of clarity, you realize that he will find you within seconds and that you, at this very moment alone, have a jumpstart on choosing whether to fight, flight, or freeze your way out of this situation. Freezing won’t do you any good, and there’s no way you can overpower him, so you resolve to flee to a different part of the house the moment that he spots you. You hope that you can take him by surprise and make him pause long enough to make it out of eyesight and into another hiding spot. It’s not much, but it’s really all you can think of right now.

Before you can make any other considerations, it happens. The chair that was protectively in front of you one moment is completely gone in the next, tossed aside recklessly without even being touched. You’re metaphorically naked to the open air, and without so much as sparing a glance at your monster, you leap away from the wall as though you were shot out of a cannon and sprint full force towards the nearby staircase. You hear a sound of surprise behind you but don’t dare to look back, reaching out to grab onto the handrail before you begin bounding up the stairs, taking two at a time. As you reach the first platform and prepare to turn the corner to climb higher, you hear a loud SLAM that shakes the entire house around you. You turn your head towards the sound on instinct, and see in your peripheral vision that Beetlejuice just rammed his entire body sideways and shoulders-first into the wall at the bottom of the stairs due to how fast and recklessly he was pursuing you, like an animal that forgets to control its speed during a hunt and overshoots its leap. Within the blink of an eye, he’s crouched at the bottom of the stairs in a posture that strikes your fleeing brain as odd, before he begins crawling up the stairs on all fours at alarming speeds, bounding upwards and coming right at you. You swiftly round the corner to the higher set of stairs as he scrambles upwards, but you can tell he’s gaining on you at a pace that makes your stomach drop.

You haul yourself up the last few stairs and into the hallway that most of the bedrooms connect to. It’s a long, narrow hall with multiple doors branching off of it and an impressively tall, lovely gothic window at the end of the hall that stretches nearly from floor to ceiling and beautifully frames the rain, which is still pouring down torrentially outside and running down the glass in thick racing streams. You distantly recognize that your plan to get out of his sight and hide will not be panning out, so you quickly pivot to a new, much worse plan: get to your room and lock the door. Certainly, that will keep the monster out.

With no time to lose, you book it towards your closed door at the very end of the hallway, placed just to the right of the large window. You try to ignore the sound of an inbound demon close behind you, your feet carrying you as fast as they’re able. The hallway seems to stretch unnaturally long in front of you, and you wonder if this is one of Beetlejuice’s illusions or if your brain is just playing tricks on you in your escape. You’re trapped running endlessly as the rain in front of you buffets itself against the window, as though it too was trying to come in and attack you, until finally, your outstretched hand makes contact with your doorknob and moves to turn the knob. It jiggles rigidly against your twisting hand. Locked.

In that moment, you feel clawed hands grab your shoulders and force you down to the ground. You land solidly but not painfully, your face being firmly pushed up against the impeccably clean wood flooring. You struggle against Beetlejuice, but he answers by pressing his entire body against your backside forcefully. Your torso fully pinned down, you instinctively kick your legs and try to bend your arms backwards in an attempt to grab or push him off. Your hand finds his own arm that is braced against the floor, fruitlessly grabbing onto and pulling at it to offset his balance, but finding out very quickly just how strong he truly is. After letting you exert yourself trying to push and pull his arms with both hands, he grabs both of your wrists in one swift motion and holds them both behind your back, trapping you fully in place as you feel his hard cock press up against your ass through your clothes. A mean cackle rings out behind you, where you cannot see. You feel his cold breath wrap itself around your ear.

“Aw, aren’t you so cute trying to get away from me? But what’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in the dark? Aren’t you worried that something in here might eat you alive?” His voice and breath are making your head spin, and Beetlejuice only adds to your dizziness when he decides to flip you over without warning to look at him. The large window looms high above his figure, the low light from the storm giving you just enough natural light to see details in his face now. The gleeful madness in his eyes makes your hips twitch uselessly, pinned under his full weight as he moves to better straddle you. Though he still has his usual clothes on, his cock is out and fully erect against your thigh, already wet with precum from when he was shamelessly touching himself during the hunt. “Although, you might like the thought of a demon eating you alive more than you’d care to admit, hm? You wouldn’t have agreed to my game otherwise.”

You let out a quiet groan as his hands crawl up to the hem of your shirt collar, and before you can register what he’s doing, his claws are shredding the entire shirt from top to bottom in one swift motion. The fabric tears with a salaciously loud ripping sound, revealing your chest underneath, and Beetlejuice responds by quickly bringing his mouth to your newly-exposed skin. He keeps slowly sliding the fabric off of you bit by bit with his claws, until it’s completely off of your body and his teeth begin to bite down on your collarbone. You gasp and writhe against him, shaking as his sharp teeth tease at breaking the skin of your tender flesh. He alternates between soft nibbles at your throat to harsher bites where your neck and shoulders meet, keeping you on your toes as he ravishes your half-naked body. You feel his hand come up to play with your nipples, pinching and rolling them under his clawed fingers in a way that makes your back arch under him. Noticing your reaction, he moves his head down and sticks his forked tongue out to slowly drag it across your other nipple. After all of this buildup, you feel as though you’re already on the edge before he’s even taken your shorts off.

“F-fuck, Beetlejuice…” You reach your hand up to become tangled in his messy hair as usual, until his own hand catches yours by the wrist right before you can touch him.

“Watch it with my name tonight, babes,” he hisses. There’s a darkness shrouding his face right now since he’s facing away from the low light of the stormy window, his hungry expression sparking a hurricane of its own in you. “And don’t think you can try your usual tricks and turn me into your bitch again. You were mean to me and lost my game, so now you’re my bitch tonight.” He leans down to purr his next words into the side of your neck. “How’s that feel?” Before you can answer, he’s biting into the soft flesh, tongue peeking out to get a taste of your skin, and possibly a few drops of blood.

You practically mewl at his ministrations, a deeply humiliating sound that you didn’t even know you could make. If that’s a sign of what’s to come tonight, I don’t know whether to be excited or scared. I feel like I’m learning to do both at the same time really well, though.

Beetlejuice pauses his lapping at your neck to flash you a smug, knowing look. “Already need it that bad, babes? You’re so cute. Want me to go ahead make you cum for me right now?” His voice still has that unearthly quality to it, a low undertone beneath his words that turns you on more than you’d care to admit as it rumbles through your entire body and sends bursts of electricity up your spine.

“Yes…”

“Yes, what?” His eyes glimmer with joyful control. Fast learner.

“Please,” you choke out, grinding your hips upwards to try and find friction against his towering form.

Beetlejuice puts a finger up to his lips in mock thought. “Hmm, lemme think about it…uh, no.” He laughs at whatever expression immediately takes over your face at these words. “I really enjoyed hearing you ask nicely though!” If his cruel laughter isn’t enough, his cock rubbing against your thigh makes it all too obvious how much he’s reveling in being able to turn your own words against you.

“Y-you’re a dick…” You can barely spit the words out without your voice wavering and betraying your true feelings.

His eyes narrow at you, smile unchanged. “Oh-ho, am I now? And what if I left you tied up without touching you for hours on end, just a pent-up, whining mess, stuck here with nothing to fill you up? If I’m a dick now, what would I be then?” He looks up with faux thoughtfulness. “Hm, well, I guess I’d be whatever you are, since that’s basically what you did to me.” His word delivery is sharp enough to cut, but you can read his tone well enough to tell that he’s not genuinely angry about the whole situation, he wouldn’t be so willing to play with you if he was. Definitely sexually frustrated enough to add some fire to his words, though.

“Do you want me to say sorry? Because I’m not sorry.” Pushing your luck with Beetlejuice is like an extreme sport to you at this point.

The demon chuckles darkly. “Give it time.” Moving on quickly, he stands up above you, clothes suddenly vanished from his body in the blink of an eye. “Up, my little marionette.”

With a slight flick of his fingers, your body is pulled up into a kneeling position in front of where he stands. It feels as if your body is being held taut by invisible strings, the position not fully uncomfortable, but not quite how you’d settle yourself if you were in control here. Clearly, you are not.

Beetlejuice coos at you, as much as he’s able to with his warped voice. “Aww, not what you were expecting? Did you think I was just gonna fuck you right away after all that? Somebody forgot about my promises to use them for myself if I caught them.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you had the self control to actually do any- use me…!” If you could slap a hand over your mouth, you would. You settle for snapping your jaw shut immediately, a bewildered expression surely plastered on your face. Your cheeks burn hot as you realize what you just said, or rather, what you were made to say. If the breathy tone that was sorely missing your own personal inflection on the words didn’t tip you off, Beej’s shit-eating grin above you would have. Not only do you not have control of your body, but your voice is his to play with as well.

“What’s that, my little breather? You really want me to use you?” His voice takes on another tone, one of somebody playing pretend, like how someone would pretend to talk to a toy in a game. It doesn’t talk long to realize that you’re essentially reduced to a living, breathing doll for him in this moment. Demeaning as it is, you shamefully clock that you’re weirdly into it, but you wouldn’t share this with him right now even if you could.

Your feel your mouth twist with words that come as a surprise to you upon leaving your lips yet again. “Yes, oh, please use me, BJ…! You’re so sexy, so handsome, such a big, strong demon…I wanna make you cum so many times that I lose count, I wanna be yours to use forever, I don’t even care if I get to cum at all, I don’t deserve to for being so mean to you!” Your hands run down your sides seductively of their own accord as your mouth finishes its speaking. It feels a bit silly to do, but you don’t really have much say in it at the moment, and Beetlejuice doesn’t seem to care if it’s a bit over-the-top from the way drool is currently pooling at the corners of his mouth. None of the words that you moaned out really belonged to you, but you kinda like that you can say such obscene things and just blame it on him later. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t onboard with most of them already, aside from that last statement.

Beetlejuice laughs, licking his lips with a forked tongue. “Aw, aren’t you just a good little toy?” He takes a step towards you, his dick bobbing at eye level in front of you, seemingly a bit larger than usual and…is that ribbing? Yes, you definitely aren’t mistaken, his cock has ridges crawling up all sides, swirling around in mesmerizing patterns that reach up to his swollen head. Some jut out like small, dull spikes, while others are more like closely-placed ribbed lines that remind you of a winding path. Your eyes widen at the discovery as your head leans in expectantly, and this time, you’re not sure if it was you or him that initiated that movement. To test your level of control, you try to roll your shoulders experimentally, and they obey without issue. With this, you can confidently conclude that you at least have a bit of influence over your upper half, though your legs are still forced firmly into a kneeling position.

Before you can do anything yourself with this discovery, his hand reaches out to grab a fistful of your hair and your heart rate immediately quickens in your chest. His grip is forceful but meticulous as he pulls your head forward even more, claws scratching at your scalp in a way that makes you heartbeat drop to the space between your thighs. His impatient guidance makes his neediness apparent, and you grin up at him through your eyelashes. Before he can say anything about how long you’re taking, you open your mouth and lean in to slowly lick his cock from base to tip, selfishly drinking in the shudder that you’re able to pull from him. Even when he’s supposed to be your monster, you can still find your own little ways of asserting dominance. Beetlejuice always runs chilly, but his cock feels even more so than usual, to the point where you would describe it as actively cold, though not enough to be uncomfortable. The ridges feel strange but not unpleasant against your tongue as you go in for another taste, and you shiver to think about how they would feel inside of your wet cunt. You move to mouth and kiss at his length teasingly, purposefully not giving him all of the stimulation he so clearly wants right away.

The grip on your hair tightens to the point of stinging. “If you’re not gonna do it right, I can just do it myself,” he hisses, panting above you with a poisonous glare aimed down at you below. You hardly have time to register how pretty he looks when he’s mad before he’s changed his position and begins fucking into your mouth at an absolutely brutal pace. Your eyes shoot open in shock as his hand holds your head securely in place by a fistful of hair, forcing you to breathe through your nose as he thrusts in and out of your mouth. It’s desperate, and frustrated, and monstrous. It’s exactly what he promised you. The extra size and new textures make his dick feel even more thick than usual in your mouth, and you marvel at the fact that you’re even able to fit as much of it inside as you currently are. Your eyes water as you try to suppress your gag reflex when he hits the back of your throat once, twice, three times. On the fourth time, it’s too much to fight and you gag, causing him to pause mid-thrust and look down at you quizzically. “Too much for you already, babes?” His voice is far too cheery for your taste, and his imposing form leers over you with bemused intrigue.

You tightly shake your head no, mouth too full at the moment to say any words even if your brain was capable of forming them.

Beetlejuice barks out a laugh, lightning pouring through the window to momentarily frame his facial features, all crinkled in amusement. “Ah, this is why I love you, doll. You just don’t know when to quit.” He pulls his cock from your mouth with an emphatic pop and you instead feel the unseeable pull of your limbs by his influence once again. Except, this time, he has a hold on all of you but your mouth and eyes. “But y’know, anything you can do, I can do better.”

Your body lurches forward without your permission, your right hand wrapping itself around the base of Beetlejuice’s cock and beginning to pump up and down his entire length. Meanwhile, your left hand chooses to come up to cup his balls, fondling and massaging at a separate pace. It might’ve been difficult to keep each hand’s motion and pace straight, if not for the fact that you were currently being possessed by a demon to do it. It was not unlike being asked to pat your head and rub your stomach, except that you don’t actually have to put any work into it at all and also you are having sex. Your mental comparisons are interrupted by your head positioning itself over his cock, lips parting to take him in and promptly closing to form a vacuum seal around him. Once your mouth is on him, you feel the pull of your demon’s power begin to bob your head up and down as much of his length as you’re able. Your hands continue their work, but your right hand pumps only the area between the base of his shaft and the lowest point that your lips can reach. Your ministrations continue at a fast and unwavering speed, and if your brain wasn’t completely overtaken by lust, you would be impressed with how efficiently he’s been able to turn you into his perfect little blowjob machine. You can feel that this is a persuasive but breakable possession, and it’s endearing to know that he left you an out so you could break his tether to you if you needed to. But deep down, you know you won’t be testing that ability out right now, not when he’s making such pretty noises above you.

Your eyes, maybe one of the only things still under your easy control, flit up to look at him as your mouth and hands continue their work. Beetlejuice looks down at you through lidded eyes, his concentration obviously torn between possessing you and getting his cock worked so thoroughly. His hair is a messy fire on his head, all red and fuchsia twisted together like a beautiful mixing of watercolors on a soft, shaggy canvas. He lets out an unsteady exhale above you, obviously very close, but trying to hide his usual whines and whimpers that would signal he was approaching the edge. Instead, he opts for a shaky moan from deep within his chest, unable to hold back as he begins to thrust up into your mouth to meet your lips as they come down. Just as it’s all starting to become a bit overwhelming, he shudders above you with a muffled high-pitched sound, and your movements become sloppy and ungraceful all at once as he finishes in your mouth. You could move off of his cock if you wanted to, but instead, you stay in place and greedily catch as much of his cum in your mouth as you can, shivering at how surprisingly cold it feels as you swallow it down your throat. It shouldn’t have been that shocking considering how extra chilly his dick had been, but you’re still taken aback by the temperature as you suck him dry, the slight sweetness still ever-present. Eventually, his dick stops twitching, and the demon above you seems to be quietly coming back down after his orgasm before he erupts into a guttural growl.

“Not enough, not enough,” Beetlejuice snarls, partially to himself and partially at you. “You made me wait so goddamn long, now it’s still not enough.” He squeezes his eyes shut and rakes a clawed hand through his hair, pushing it back from his furrowed brow as he vigorously shakes his head back and forth in frustration, growling and murmuring to himself. You hold yourself very still, watching silently as he seems to argue with himself about something internally. After a moment of thought, his eyelids flutter open again and he slowly turns his gaze onto you. His dark brown eyes look to be on the verge of crazed, the slits of his pupils moving down from meeting your own eyes to leer at your half-naked body. You manage to catch the way his pupils blow out wide as he continues to undress you with his eyes, despite the darkness making him seem very much like a moving shadow whenever the lightning outside pauses. Despite having cum just moments ago, he has the look of a ravenous man staring at a feast.

You sit back on your haunches, looking up at his pretty face with mock innocence. “Not enough, huh? What’re you gonna do about it?”

Beetlejuice can’t hide his grin at your insolence. “Patience, little bird. There’s really no need to goad me on, I’m not nearly done playing with you yet.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at the irony of him telling you to be patient, ignoring the fact that your stomach is currently filled with butterflies at his words. His strings of control now fully dissipated, he steps forward with a renewed power and looks you over with a fanged smirk. He looks for a moment as though he wants to say something, but instead, he moves to crouch down to your level and crashes his lips against yours. The kiss rocks you to your core, all tongue and teeth on his end, which you do your best to imitate. In the end, it’s only more clear how horribly outmatched you currently are, his strength and demonic features easily overpowering your pathetic human body. As he shoves his forked tongue into your mouth roughly, you are struck by the chilling realization that every time you’ve been taking control up until now, it’s only because Beetlejuice has been letting you. The thought is enough to make you clench tightly around nothing, aching with desire.

After he’s satisfied with the kiss, he pulls back from your lips and reaches down to grab your legs by the calves, pulling them out from under you in one swift motion and making you fall backwards onto your butt with an undignified thump. He settles himself between your legs, grabbing the soft skin on the inner sides of your knees and spreading them wide to make room for his larger form. He continues to spread so far that you can feel your hamstrings stretching, a dull but satisfying ache in your muscles as they tighten at their limit. Once he’s carved a space for himself, Beetlejuice slowly begins to crawl his hands upwards from where they rest by your knees along your inner thighs, his claws lightly skating across your sensitive skin. You squirm and giggle lightly at the sensation, simultaneously too much and not enough. He finally reaches the bottom of your shorts and, wasting no time, shreds through the fabric as if it were tissue paper. The pieces of what used to be your shorts fall pathetically from your body, no longer recognizable anything but scraps anymore. As they fall off, you recognize with surprise that your underwear was also fully ripped off of you in the same movement, fluttering down to the floor in tattered pieces and leaving you fully naked.

Beetlejuice’s monstrous persona drops ever so slightly as he can’t quite hide the sheepish expression that finds its way onto his face. “Oh, oops? Overshot that. Hope those weren’t your favorite pair or anything.” He gets over his moment with a devious chuckle and is quickly back to studying your fully exposed body, all spread out in front of him and ready to be devoured. “Gotta make sure you’re ready to take me, strictly business here, y’know. Try not to moan like a bitch in heat too much. ‘S embarrassing for you.” As he’s speaking, you watch Beetlejuice lift his right hand and slowly retract the claws of his index and middle finger until they’re completely gone, only his regular short black nails where the claws once were. Without leaving you any time to make a snarky comment, he’s plunging them into your entrance.

“Ah…!” You keen as you finally receive the stimulation you’ve been craving all night, even if it is so much all at once. When the shock of him pressing into you quickly fades, it’s only immediately replaced by another, even more jarring shock: his fingers are ice cold inside of you. You yelp, unsure whether to pull away or beg him to push them farther inside. His unnaturally chilly fingers are curling against your walls, making your hips stutter and eyes squeeze shut as you try to steady yourself from the sensory overload.

“Aww, what’s the matter?” he coos with a sickly sweet smile, sticking a third finger inside of your pussy. You arch your back and whine desperately in response. “You look kinda conflicted there, babes…too cold for you?”

You wrestle for control of your words. “N-no,” you eventually spit out at him. It’s a sad attempt at lying to a very perceptive demon.

Beetlejuice grins. “You’re a stubborn little breather, aren’t you?” He keeps rubbing against the spot that has you seeing stars like he owns it. “That, or you’re just a freak who gets off on everything I do. Because I honestly did this to be an asshole, but you are definitely liking it way more than I expected. I can see it in your cute little face.” You tighten around his fingers as he speaks. “Heh, and that too.”

“Fuck off…” It’s a new kind of embarrassing to have Beetlejuice call you a freak for getting off on something, but honestly, that just gets you off even more, proving his point. You rock your hips up to meet him, unable to hold back your little gasps as you do. You’re trapped between pleasure and pain, the cold refusing to ebb as he continues fingering you roughly. You squirm helplessly under the seemingly endless barrage of conflicting sensations.

His left hand is suddenly on your lower belly, pressing down to keep you in place. “Quit fuckin’ moving, or I’m gonna tie you down,” he growls, not letting up on his pace as he chastises you.

“Hold me down yourself,” you moan, and the words are out before you even get a chance to think. Those were definitely your own words, though.

The demon’s eyes light up immediately. “Ohh, I see, you want me to hold you down and fingerfuck you ‘til you beg for mercy? Well, if that’s what you want.”

He’s behind you in the blink of an eye, erection fully hard once again if the way it presses up against your naked back is any indication. He grabs both of your wrists in one hand and lifts them up and back to wrap around his neck, still bound together tightly. It’s almost a romantic pose, with your body reclined back against his and your arms holding his head close to your body, his nose pressed into your neck and beard prickling against it as well. His free hand snakes around your waist to press your torso even closer against him before returning his fingers to your dripping cunt. The freezing pleasure returns, a feeling you had been dreading and felt so empty without. He’s pumping his fingers into you at the same quick pace, picking up right where he left off. He presses into your clit with his thumb, chuckling darkly at the cry you let out as he starts rubbing teasing circles into it.

“G-gonna cum…” Your humiliating whimpers only seem to encourage him into moving faster.

“Yeah? You close? I bet you are. You’ve been so wet all night…I could smell it, got all mixed up in my head, wanted to pin you down and take you so bad for hours…” Beetlejuice’s chin is resting on your shoulder, and his long tongue slips out to slither down at your neck and to your chest again. It’s like a prehensile appendage with how it moves and wraps itself around your nipples, but with such a light ghost of a touch against your hard buds that it causes goosebumps to spread themselves across your entire chest. You’d be defiantly squirming against him if not for the fact that your body was being held completely immobile by the demon. His wrist and strong forearm press insistently against your stomach and pubic region, keeping you locked in place with his otherworldly strength. Instead, you just allow the needy sounds to pour out of your mouth, unable to focus on anything besides how utterly and deliciously trapped you are and how fast your orgasm is approaching due to his dexterous fingers. You feel yourself cresting that final hill before he sends you crashing over the peak, your body attempting to fuck yourself down onto his fingers even harder despite your trappings. You can’t see him as your orgasm rocks your body, but you hear him hmph approvingly behind you and can easily imagine the smarmy look on his face at how much he can make you come undone with his hands alone.

You’re still shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasm when Beetlejuice swiftly disappears from behind you and reappears with his head between your legs, giving you no time to react before his mouth is between your legs, licking and sucking loudly. You squeal at the pleasure flooding your senses again so soon and squeeze your legs together involuntarily in reaction.

Beetlejuice lifts his head a bit with a hazy smile. “Sorry babes, couldn’t help myself. Just needed a little taste…” You whine as he sucks at your clit forcefully to punctuate his words before pulling his body back up to kneel in front of you. “But I do think you’re just about ready for me after that.”

“Please…” you muster, your head swimming with pleasure. You’re not even completely sure what you’re begging for, but your demon seems to enjoy it.

“Aren’t you so good for me, my little breather? Even when I’m using you for myself, so adorable…” He grabs your chin with his thumb and the forefinger that was pumping inside of you moments ago, appraising whatever expression is plastered on your face and holding your head in place. “It’s not gonna make me be any nicer to you, but it’ll probably make me fill you up faster.” Wasting no time, he pulls back from your face and begins to line his cock up with your entrance.

His words make you realize how quickly Beetlejuice was able to get you to roll over and play nice for him. It’s truthfully embarrassing the speed at which you folded, especially after the multiple times that you’ve teased him now for doing the exact same thing. Maybe he’s right, you’re more like him than you thought. This line of thought passing into your mind reignites your defiant spirit almost instantly.

“Y’know, for all that talk, you kinda suck at being mean to me.” It’s hard to keep the corners of your lips from being pulled upwards when he slowly tilts his head at your words in disbelief. “The meanest thing you could think to do is make me cum my brains out around your somewhat-chilly fingers. Kinda sweet for an evil demon, that’s all. Can’t bring yourself to do any worse?”

Beetlejuice’s cute expression of positive bewilderment begins melting into one of resolve mixed with pure, carnal desire. “You make such terrible decisions sometimes, it’s so fuckin’ hot.” He punctuates this statement by thrusting his cock up into you, stealing the next witty retort from your lips and leaving only a breathy gasp in its absence. It’s an intense stretch over his morphed length, and even after being worked open by his fingers, the sudden penetration is more than enough to shut you up as you adjust. He grabs your neck, firmly enough to tilt your head as he pleases. “I’m gonna eat you alive, little bird.”

You meet his blazing-hot gaze readily. “Promise?”

Beetlejuice grins as he chooses for once to let his actions do the talking, his only response being to start fucking into you at a quick and steady pace. His cock is clearly bigger than usual, but still fits without issue after the first stretch. You note that it’s the texture that makes the experience just as unique and fantastic as you’d hoped, his ridges rubbing against your walls as though they were designed to pleasure you specifically (and for all you know, this could be absolutely true). The cold remains a common factor throughout the encounter, and one that you certainly don’t hate, despite its initial purpose. The cold spreads out from your core to crawl all over your body, reminding you just how much influence he has over you. It’s all so strange and wonderful and it’s having no trouble in making you see stars already.

Your back is pressed firmly against the floor, giving you another beautiful view of Beetlejuice framed in front of the tall window as he sets a rhythm with his motions. Lightning highlights the outline of his frame every few seconds, visibly straining as he tries to give you more without losing himself in you completely. You try to take a second and memorize how pretty his face is in this moment, really commit everything here to memory. The way his eyebrows knit together as he works at opening you up, biting at his lip with sharp fangs that you assume must hurt, but he gives no indication if it does. The hand that was lightly gripping at your throat loses its solid grip as his fingers stretch out and stroke down your neck, his palm spreading wide and coming to rest directly above your heart, claws resting along the length of your collarbone. Every thrust into you, every touch of his hands on your warm skin, it’s all so maddening and cruel and perfect all at once.

His eyes peek open slightly and flit to your face, lids still half-covering the pools of dark brown. “Quit lookin’ at me all sweet like that, you’re the one who said you wanted rough mean monster sex.”

“Sorry,” you breathe, averting your eyes from his lovely visage to get back into character but unable to hide the way the corners of your lips curl up fondly.

“You’d better be.” He huffs with a smirk, before putting the charm back on. “Now, you said you could keep up with a demon, so let’s see if you were right or if I can make a liar outta you tonight.” He practically spits the word “liar,” clearly both something you should be ashamed of being and something that you desperately want him to prove that you were when you said that. He moves both of his hands down to your hips for leverage, grabbing onto the skin so forcefully that you’re certain it’ll leave a bruise. With you secure in his grasp, he’s holding your lower half steady so he can keep you perfectly in place while he fucks you, an anchor to you for your monster.

Still riding off the high of your recent first orgasm, you can feel your second building already at an exponential rate. You gasp as your walls clench around him, tightening around his cock as it keeps brushing against just the right spot inside of you, the ridges doing everything right for you. Before you know it, you’re already cumming around his dick, the squelches of him continuing to fuck you through your orgasm sounding utterly obscene with how wet you are for him. You ride it out with small moans and praises pouring from your lips, until the fountain of your words begins to run dry as he continues to fuck you at the same unwavering pace.

“You just came again? Okay, well, I haven’t cum again yet, so you can just be fuckin’ patient.” You feel that dawning horror that you’ve been waiting so long for wash over you as you realize that he does not in fact plan on giving you any semblance of a break here. Instead, he grabs both of your thighs and pushes them up to fold back on top of your body, removing the obstacle for him and ending with you opening yourself even wider for him.

“B-Beetlejuice,” you gasp, the overstimulation beginning to take hold as the last of your previous orgasm ebbs away, causing you to shudder and twitch involuntarily as he refuses to let up in his motions. “I’m so- FUCK!” Your words are unable to leave your tongue as his mouth begins biting at your neck insistently. His mouth moves with no rhythm compared to his thrusts, all wild instinct with no discernible pattern as he kisses and bites from your collarbone to your jawline, savoring the taste of you and the sounds you make at the overwhelming, overlapping sensations.

“You say something, babes? Couldn’t quite hear ya…” He switches it up by nibbling along your throat before ending his trail with a harsh bite to the side of your neck. “Were you gonna say that I was right and that I’m too much for your little human body to handle?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the feeling of his teeth on you. “Shit, I take it back, you really are evil.” He would be the one to make sex into a competition. A game, your mind chimes in to correct you. Always the games with him. You have been quite the fan of his rigged games tonight, why change your tune now when he’s ruining you so well? “Don’t you dare stop.”

Your words make him chuckle and become only rougher in his movements. “Gonna fill you up,” Beetlejuice pants as his teeth graze the tip of your ear, clearly on the edge himself. “Gonna cum inside you ‘til you can’t take anymore. Bet you’d like that. Bet you wanna have my cum dripping out of your needy little cunt for days.” Your answer comes out as nothing more than a strangled, horny sound, but it seems to get your agreement across as the demon grins wildly, his thrusts becoming erratic as his eyes are flooded with pure desire looking down at you. His head falls to rest on your shoulder as he continues, and you can feel him mouthing something into your skin, but it takes a few moments before you can make out what he’s saying, faint as a whispered prayer. “Mine, mine, mine.” He punctuates each word with a forceful thrust, your heart somehow finding a way to race even faster at this realization. His final utterance of the word is choked into a shaky moan halfway through, his predictably yet still shockingly cold cum filling you to the brim in the best way. It’s way more than you expected, pumping inside of you at high speeds and completely filling you with him. If your mind were a bit sharper right now, you’d probably marvel at just how much there is, you can tell just by feel the practically obscene amounts that are leaking out of your entrance and onto the floor. You close your eyes for a moment to try and bring yourself back to Earth. Your muscles burn with exertion, and you can’t stop the full-body tremors that keep wracking your smaller frame. Not that you have enough energy to even attempt to suppress them.

You don’t have more than a moment’s rest before you feel something cool and slightly wet rubbing against your leg, and you crack open your eyes and see a thick, black and white appendage prodding at you. The striped extremity crawls over your body slowly, caressing your outer thigh before stretching itself over you to pet at your inner thigh as well, wrapping you up in its grasp. You can only think to respond with a perplexed gaze at the thing before looking up at Beetlejuice inquisitively.

He looks all too proud of himself above you, the appendage clearly sprouting from him, more specifically, somewhere behind him…his back perhaps, but it’s hard to tell in this lighting. “Hey, I’ve never shown you my tentacles, have I? At least, I haven’t shown you what they can really do…” When your gaze looks back down, two more tentacles have joined the first, stroking and caressing at your slick flesh.

“B-Beetlejuice, it’s too much, I don’t know if I can…” Your body is simultaneously crying out for rest yet also desperately vying for the attention of the tentacles as they rub themselves over your form teasingly.

He actually has the gall to snicker. “Oh come on now, you can take much more than that, don’t be a quitter. Unless…you’re really admitting you can’t keep up with me? That you’re not as unaffected as you might make yourself out to be? That you were wrong and are now in over your little head?” He pokes you in the center of your forehead to emphasize his teasing in the most annoying way possible.

As though immediately possessed by a different sort of force, you feel a second wind rushing into your entire body, filling you with a new, stubborn resolve. “In your dreams, hellspawn.” You meet his eyes obstinately, hoping that your demeanor portrays yourself as less dazed and fucked-out-of-your-mind than you really are right now. In the end, your competitiveness will always win.

He chuckles, looking rather unfazed by your sharp response. “Still got that much of a fighting spirit, huh? Bet I can break that.”

At his command, three more tentacles emerge from behind him and move towards your reclined body. With six of them visible to you now, they move almost hypnotically as they stroke at your skin, all six moving as if of their own free will as they each take to a different task. You feel two wrap around each of your calves, and one more secures your wrists together. They pull you up to sit on your haunches, the cool wood flooring below starting to feel less pleasant than it did when he first caught you and pressed you against it. Your arms are pulled up and over your head, and you simply let them pull your limbs wherever they see fit without fight. You’re perched as though about to ride an invisible dick, and the position makes you very aware of how gravity is causing more of his cum to slowly drip out of you, mixed with your own wetness. The remaining three tentacles prod at your stretched torso, two settling to rub your nipples gently while the other one crawls down toward your hips. You keen at the contact, watching the slick appendages delicately rub over your chest and wondering exactly how much direct control Beetlejuice has over them versus how much they’re piloted by just subconscious desire without direction. Your eyes flicker up to take him in for the first time since being restrained, and his expression is one of a man watching a most riveting show, cartoonish tongue lolling slightly out of his involuntary smile at your current predicament. He’s crouched across from you in a similar yet freer position, mirroring your body but leaning forward to really take it all in. You feel the free tentacle begin to snake its way to your stomach, sending a thrill up your spine as it strokes down, down, down, until it’s right where you need it. You whimper wordlessly at the contact, mind swirling with sensation.

“God, I’m so happy you’re the kind of sick degenerate that’s into this,” Beetlejuice breathes, making you shivers as he tugs at his half-hard cock shamelessly. Despite being well-aware of what BJ told you about demon sex drives, it’s sort of blowing your mind to see him so immediately ready to go like this, again and again, acting as though everything before was nothing more than warm-up. Damn. No wonder he is the way that he is.

Taking you out of your thoughts is the tentacle giving attention to the space between your thighs, its stark black-and-white surface contrasting with your skin beneath it even in the window’s dim light. The tentacles holding your legs spread them wider to make room, and the appendage responds by bringing its tip up to your clit, pressing in gently but with enough pressure to have your body at full attention. Just when you think you’re spent, he’s got you bucking your hips under his touch again, desperate for more of his attention. Beetlejuice seems more than pleased with your reaction.

“I-I can’t believe you’ve held out on me so long,” you gasp, the tentacle dragging itself torturously slow as it traces up and down from your clit to your opening. “I mean, it’s only been like, a week, but that’s practically 1000 years in terms of your patience.” The tentacles stroking your nipples instead tug at them abruptly, swiftly putting you back in your place with a shaky whimper.

Beetlejuice looks at you with half-lidded eyes and a dumb smile. “Aww, I’m so glad to hear ya like ‘em. I didn’t wanna freak you out too soon, but I should’ve known you’d be enough of a whore to just bend over and let me take you however I wanted to.” You keen as you feel the tentacle on your clit move to your entrance, all wet with some nondescript substance that might’ve grossed you out if he showed it to you in any other context. There’s hardly even a stretch compared to his cock as it pushes into you, but it still reaches exactly where it needs to with how dextrous and long it is. “You wanted to be chased. You wanted to be caught. And yeah, I know you wanted to be used. How could you not, when you take it sooooo well?” His lovely purring words rattle around in your head as the tentacle inside of you pumps itself into your clenched core, rubbing exactly where it knows you want it to and making you grit your teeth as though about to go mad. “God, you’re so perfect. Look so fuckin’ pretty right now, don’t know what I did to deserve you. I won’t let you down, I’m gonna milk every orgasm you have out of you and not gonna stop ‘til you’re absolutely ruined, babes. You’re gonna regret asking me to be meaner to you.”

You whine miserably at his words, his own excitement and arousal only amplifying yours. You hump against the tentacle as it keeps up its regular pace, riding it like a cock as much as you can with your arms and legs restrained. Taking another glance at Beetlejuice, you notice that another tentacle had sprouted from his back when you were lost in his words and came down to rest on his own dick, curling itself around the length from base to tip and moving itself up and down rapidly, getting him off as he leans back and watches you intently. You grind yourself down onto the tentacle inside of you harder at this, getting off to the image of him being caressed by his own tentacles just as much as he is for you. He notices you reacting in this way and flashes you a grin, the unmistakable grin of someone who’s all too happy to be ogled. Damn exhibitionist. He then lets out a very familiar whimper, sharply contrasting his dominant front from a moment ago. You could recognize that specific sound anywhere.

“Are you fucking yourself in the ass with your own tentacles?” Your voice is strained, but the tone is somewhere between incredulous and amused.

His whimper melts into a breathy moan, his teeth snapping off the end of the sound by clicking together into a satisfied grin. “You know me so well, doll.” Sure enough, Beetlejuice leans forward and arches his back from where he had been resting on his haunches in front of you, and you can see another tentacle placed behind him that is thrusting up into his ass at a steady speed, the first tentacle continuing to pump his cock at a breakneck pace.

The mere sight of Beetlejuice getting so thoroughly worked by his own tentacles as your own stimulation refuses to let up is pleasurable enough to make you clench tightly around the appendage, your legs shaking as you cum around it and get roughly fucked through your orgasm. You feel your ears ringing as this one rolls out of you in waves, feeling so good and yet so, so much. It takes its time running through your entire body, but as it begins to ebb, you whine as you realize that the tentacles aren’t letting up. They continue to perform their motions like a dutiful machine, rubbing at your nipples, fucking up into your thoroughly used pussy, holding you perfectly in place despite your squirming. You’re still completely open to the appendages, no way to even curl up and hide yourself from their touches.

“Beetlejuice…” you practically sob, overstimulation causing your entire body to shake as the tentacle rubs itself against your g-spot, prodding at you for more as if it doesn’t understand why you’re so spent.

From your position, you can see the demon laugh at your predicament. “Aw, poor little thing. You’ve got about one more in you before you totally break, I bet.” You choke out an anguished sound at his cooing words, plus the fact that the pace of the tentacles hasn’t let up in the slightest, and he regards you with a raised brow. “Color?”

You take in a shuddering breath, knowing that you could easily end things here with a single word. But goddamnit, you are not giving him the satisfaction. You’ll go until exhaustion forcibly takes you if you must, your pride demands it. “Green.”

The unbearably overwhelming sensations are immediately made worth it by the utterly flabbergasted look that crosses your demon’s face, eyes widening as he receives an answer that he clearly didn’t expect. It’s quickly replaced by an impressed little smirk, all lust and pride and amusement wrapped into one sharp smile. “Heh, yep, that’s the breather I fell for. You’re too much of a stubborn little glutton for punishment to quit, just like me. Well, lucky for you, that’s in no short supply right now.” He moves toward you from where he had been leaned back on his haunches, and it’s immediately clear by the spattering of glowing green on his stomach that he himself has cum at least once under the tentacle that continues rubbing at his cock, and you feel a slight twinge of regret that you didn’t get to see his debauched expression as he came. To lift your spirits, you silently file away the idea of having him tied up and forced to cum over and over by his own tentacles while you get to watch as a fun idea for later. For now, Beetlejuice moves up to watch you closer, bringing his body right in front of your trapped form as the tentacles keep working the both of you.

You squirm as much as the restraints and your energy levels allow under his gaze. He’s watching your face intently, as though trying to see something in your slack-jawed expression. Then, you’re tilting backwards, as if doing a trust fall that you have no choice but to trust in as your body leans backwards, knees spread apart but still firmly on the floor as your back stretches tightly. Another tentacle comes to support your neck and back as you continue to be coaxed backwards by your restraints, until your knees lift ever so slightly off of the ground and you’re practically being cradled in a tentacle hammock with your limbs still restrained, but as comfortable as they can be in this situation.

“What a perfect little present all wrapped up for me after that long chase…” Beetlejuice briefly surveys the situation, his patience clearly maxed out by now but perception still sharp as ever as he scans you for any reaction. He must find whatever he’s looking for, because you see only a joyful flash of teeth before he’s biting your inner thigh and ripping more pitiful sounds from your tired throat against your will.

You flinch and whimper a bit at the sudden piercing pain, but you couldn’t move away if you wanted to. In all honesty, you probably couldn’t bring yourself to move even if you weren’t being restrained, not at this point. Another bite to your thigh, slightly gentler and closer to where you need his mouth. You dare a glance down at him and immediately find yourself trying to stifle your tremors and trembling, his firm grasp on you as intoxicating as the image of a demon looking so absolutely possessive between your thighs, in every sense of the word.

His smile is as all-consuming as ever. “And I think I’ll get a better taste of my prey now, heh.” His tongue is pressed against your clit within the second, the entire length of it slipping out of his mouth for nothing more than to rile you up. He knows it will; it did so well the first time, and every time after, and it unsurprisingly works like a charm today too. He laps at you hungrily, his long tongue having already proven itself to be perfect for eating you out. The fact that it now has a perfect little fork at the end only adds to the experience. You’ve simply had to make peace with the fact that his demonic features have completely ruined you for anyone else, and you can’t bring yourself to be upset about that at all. Not right now, when his forked tongue is stroking up and down your clit at the perfect pace, your trapped hands grabbing at the tentacles beneath them for stability as though they were bedsheets. They only tremble and continue to ooze even more as you grip them, a strange but clear sign of pleasure if Beetlejuice’s rumbling groans weren’t obvious enough.

He allows his tongue to wander between your clit and your entrance, and it’s so long that it can reach both spots at once when pressed up against you. He lets a whiny moan slip out as he keeps up the pace. “Fuck…I can taste myself in you…hey, you’re welcome for being so delicious…” Of course he’s still finding a way to brag, even with his mouth busy. You wouldn’t be shocked if he figured out a way to continue working your clit while also tongue fucking you, and then gloat how talented he is at getting you off without changing his pace at all. He’s a talented multitasker, clearly.

You’d normally have a much more eloquent comeback to his boasting comments, but you’re honestly shocked at how much Beetlejuice has absolutely fucked you out of your mind by now. You can barely string together a complete thought, let alone speak a coherent sentence. You feel like you’ve been thoroughly used up, in the best way. From the moment he offered you that deal, you wanted to be defiled by a monster until you’re nothing but a fucked-out little plaything for him to use as he pleases, and he has more than honored that wish. The combination of this thought and the maddening feeling of him lapping at your overstimulated clit is enough to somehow bring you back to the edge again, whining as your muscles tense one final time.

Your body language does not go unnoticed by your monster. “Aw, you gonna cum?” You let out a pathetic whine in response, and he snorts. “Yeah, you would be cumming again. Slut.” He pauses his ministrations to look you in the eye from below, intense lust clouding his pretty eyes. “Say my name, beautiful.”

You practically keen at the sudden denial of stimulation, but do your best to abide. “Beetlejuice…” Your voice is a sinful moan, more shameless and explicit than you’ve ever heard from within yourself. You can’t even bring yourself to feel ashamed or self-conscious about it with how fast Beetlejuice grabs your hips with his sharp claws and thrusts his cock back into you, clearly on the precipice again himself. A few quick, deep thrusts is all it takes for him to be once again filling you up with his load, shaking as he pumps you full of it as though afraid you’d lost too much after the first time he thoroughly bred your cunt. The combination of being so perfectly full of his cum again, the image of the demon holding onto you with both hands and tentacles from above as he finds release, and the feeling of being so completely claimed by the feral monster inside of you is enough to push you over the edge. Your final orgasm tears through you recklessly, just as wild and destructive as the last to your exhausted human body. Waves of tingly pleasure rush through every nerve in your body, clenching and relaxing your muscles as the feeling ebbs and flows throughout your form. Time stands still for you, and you can barely register Beetlejuice pulling out beyond the sensations still rolling through you. As it starts to dissipate, your ears are ringing again and- oh, you can’t see. That’s probably not good. You blink harshly, feeling as though you’re in the aftermath of some kind of explosion to throw off your senses this majorly.

After a few moments of muffled blackness and awful ringing sound, you see bright rays of reality begin to peek through as your body adjusts back to normal. You see a fuzzy image above you, towering over your frame in a way that feels more concerned than menacing, and as the picture begins to clear, you notice the figure’s mouth moving. Your mind returning, you attempt to focus in on what he could be trying to say to you with such a worried little face. Luckily, the world’s sound begins to fade back in as he continues to speak quickly.

“-ey? Hey? C’mon babes, you with me? You’re freakin’ me the fuck out right now, talk to me so I know you’re not heading into the light, please.”

“I’m good,” you murmur, still feeling a bit overwhelmed in coming back to Earth after everything. The tentacles have disappeared in however long it took for your vision to return, and Beetlejuice looks decidedly less monster-y than he did moments ago. The red has all but vanished from his hair, leaving a dusting of dark pink fading into a lighter gradient, with slight yellow streaks of nervousness, and he looks significantly less big and sharp overall as his nervous eyes flicker over your form that sits on the floor below.

Beetlejuice leans down to hold your head to his chest. “Oh, Jesus fuckin’ Christ (Y/N)! You were supposed to say something if it got to be too much!” He pulls back to swiftly look you over. “Gonna give me a heart attack when I’m already dead over here. Jeez.”

You giggle, too exhausted to fully laugh at his antics. “I’m fine, wasn’t too much. A little overwhelming near the end maybe, but I really liked it.”

He snorts. “Well, yeah, that much I could tell. You freaked me out though, I thought I might’ve accidentally factory reset you from fuckin’ ya too rough or something.”

You wave your hand dramatically in a dismissive fashion as you move to sit up, your stomach and thighs shaking with the effort as though you had just finished a particularly brutal set of sit-ups. Well, that’s one way to get in a core workout. “I mean, I’m the one who wanted to try and hold my own against a supernatural being at full power so bad. Dumb mortal physical limitations getting in my way.” You hmph at the idea of human limits, before leaning forward to place your hand on Beetlejuice’s own. “But you did great baby, that was everything I could’ve wanted when you first pitched that idea. I hope it was everything you wanted, too.”

Beetlejuice’s expression softens as he looks at your hand on his own. “Yeah, I had a great time too. Clearly.” His eyes dart down to your utterly spent body almost sheepishly before returning to your own eyes, a shine of strong affection behind his gaze as he speaks in a much more delicate tone. “I really love you a lot. Thanks for bein’ the way you are.” With that, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, a far cry from the roughness that he embodied minutes ago. It’s so tender that his lips only end up lightly grazing your own, and the feeling of his soft lips moving like a whisper on you is the sweetest of kind thank you’s.

“Anything for my sweet little demon,” you breathe, reveling in the mere closeness of him in this ultra-affectionate state.

Beetlejuice shoots you a cute smile before leaning down to pick up your exhausted body as though it weighs nothing to him. “Oh, and if it’s any consolation, you totally earned bragging rights for lasting that long in the sack. I honestly thought you’d tap out after, like, two rounds, and then we’d cuddle.” He tosses and hoists you up into a more secure position in his arms before he starts walking toward your door.

You grab onto the flesh of his shoulders to steady yourself. “What can I stay? l have a strong force of will when I’m with you.” With just a look from the demon, your previously locked door swings open without a care, and he carries you right into your dark room. You whip around and shoot him an inquisitive look. “Wait, was that you before? The lock?”

“Oh, is it that surprising that I outwitted you?” He moves to bite your shoulder teasingly, now more playful than menacing but still with enough teeth to command your attention.

“Ah…a little.”

One of the hands currently wrapped under your legs slides up to pinch your ass, causing you to yelp and Beetlejuice to laugh. “You may be hot shit in your own mind, but never forget that you’re easy prey to a demon like me, babes.”

***

“Delia-uhhhhhh, when’s the popcorn gonna be ready?” Beetlejuice languishes about on the sofa in front of the TV with no shame, flopping his arms over the side to look towards the kitchen.

You roll your eyes from where you stand behind the couch, then move to swat at his dangling arms playfully. “Don’t be a nuisance unless you’re gonna help, hellspawn.”

A somewhat-frazzled redheaded figure appears in the open doorway to the kitchen. “Now, Beetlejuice, if life is a bank, then patience is a virtue that’s worth investing some of your spare change into!”

He slumps. “You should know metaphors and me don’t mix by now. Oh, and could you please horrifically burn the next bag for me? I like it crispy crunchy.”

“Ugh, and make the whole house stink again? I don’t think so,” Lydia retorts, finding her place on the adjacent single-seater couch and getting cozy, her gothy PJs still keeping her aesthetic together even before bed.

“I don’t expect you to understand fine cuisine, Lyds,” he huffs, crossing his arms petulantly and slouching down into his seat further, making his legs reach all the way to the other end of the couch.

You laugh and lace your finger through his hair from above gently. “Quit taking up a whole sofa by yourself and come help me put snacks into cute little bowls for everyone.”

Like a switch flipped, he’s immediately on his feet and following behind you obediently, his previous body language evaporated. “Coming, dear…!”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a bewildered expression from Lydia and could swear you hear her mutter, “Demon whisperer…” to herself in a tone that reads as half-accusatory and half-awestruck as you walk into the kitchen.

As you enter the room, you see Delia at the far side of the long counter furiously stirring a bowl filled with some snack that she must’ve quickly whipped up. “Oh, if you two could just put the popcorn and chips into some of the big sharing bowls while I finish this vegan cheese dip, that would help!”

“Sure can do, Delia,” you respond, opening the high cabinet closest to the door to grab the giant cartoon print snack bowls that everyone likes to use. You hand one off to Beetlejuice and keep one for yourself. “You handle the chips, bug.”

“I wanted to do the popcorn,” he argues back, putting on his brattiest tone.

“I’m not letting you anywhere near the popcorn. I know you.” You shoot him a faux mean look, and he doesn’t even try to hide the smile that spreads across his face. You ignore your desire to give him a kiss and instead, as you hear the popping slowing down on the popcorn within the microwave, open the door and trade it out for another bag. After pressing start, you open the top of the finished bag and pour it into your bowl, which is bright fuchsia and decorated with little cherries. You find your eyes strangely glued to it as you pour.

“It’s better when it’s blackened. That’s how you truly unlock the…complex flavor profile. See, I told you, I really have been watching those cooking shows on TV and learning valuable new things about the art of le chef.” The bag of chips on the counter lift up and begin pouring themselves into his bowl without Beetlejuice so much as looking back at them. Instead, he’s looking right at you as you pour the hot snack in the bowl, the tantalizing smell filling up the whole room. “Something really awesome about your bowl there that I’m not seeing?”

You manage to tear your eyes away from the bowl to look at him, suddenly realizing with mild embarrassment what it had been subconsciously reminding you of that had you so enraptured. “Uh, well, I can’t ever look at this pretty shade of fuchsia in a normal context the same way ever again, so I guess you kinda Pavlov’s dog’d me.” It’s hard to hide the laughter bubbling up in your lowered voice, having to hear yourself admit to something so…ridiculous.

Beetlejuice, on the other hand, seems to view this as much more of a personal victory than a weird observation on your part. He snickers to himself before leaning in close to you flirtatiously. “Oh, babes, I really am living rent-free in that head of yours, huh? I knew I was good, but I didn’t know I was ‘make you think of getting dicked down when you’re making snacks’ good…”

“Behave.” You shoot daggers at him with your sharp gaze, and can’t help but feel like you’re giving him exactly the reaction he wants out of you. Dating Beetlejuice openly hasn’t changed too much of the dynamic, aside from you having to keep him and his lack of a filter on a short leash if you wanted to maintain your remaining shred of dignity.

The demon returns your gaze with his own unconvincingly innocent look. “I’m behaving, I’m a good boy, see? I poured the chips nicely and everything.” The whininess in his voice is going to make you insane, you know it. He then looks over your shoulder at the counter. “Oh hey, I think your popcorn’s done now.”

You whip your head around and are smacked in the face with the horrible smell of burning popcorn. “Oh shit!” You pull the microwave door open as fast as you can, but when you grab the bag and pull it open by the corners, the little puffs are burnt to a completely unsalvageable degree.

Beetlejuice gasps. “Babes, did you make this one just for me…?” He dramatically places a hand over where his heart would be. “Thank you!” He plants a quick but rough kiss on your lips before grabbing the bag and pouring it into his own personal striped bowl that appeared out of seemingly nowhere. You, on the other hand, are left reeling from the kiss and only able to wonder if he had been distracting you on purpose.

Delia makes a sound of disgust from the other end of the kitchen, and you look over to see her taking the dip out of the oven with a scrunched-up face. “Oh God, it smells awful in here! Tell me you didn’t put Beetlejuice in charge of the popcorn.”

Beetlejuice practically cackles. “Nope, my sweet little meatsack did this allllllll on their own.” With that, he proudly takes his personal bowl out with him to the living room, leaving you behind to pick up the pieces.

Feeling utterly duped, you grab the half-full bowl of popcorn and follow him out of the kitchen. By now, though Charles has gone past you to the kitchen to help Delia, Adam and Barbara have joined Lydia in finding a comfy spot on one of the many chairs (the family reached a point where they really had to invest in more seating after getting such a full house). Their attention is on the TV mounted above the fireplace as Adam swipes through a variety of potential movies to watch, at least, until the two of you arrive.

Lydia plugs her nose. “Gross, why’d you let him burn it, dude?”

Beetlejuice laughs and pipes in for you. “Hey, nobody can resist the power of the B-Man! Not even this one.” He tosses a piece of charcoal-colored popcorn into his mouth for emphasis.

You roll your eyes and offer Lydia a defeated shrug before settling onto the nearby loveseat, placing the big popcorn bowl on the coffee table in front of the TV. “I tried, kid. Unfortunately, he is still an absolute pest even if you happen to be in a relationship.”

Beetlejuice crosses his arms proudly, his bowl hanging in midair where he left it. “Oh, you want pest? Good, I needed a seat anyway.” He immediately plops down in your lap, laying his entire form on top of your reclined body.

“Crushing…me….!” You try to push back against his back unsuccessfully, finding him firmly planted on top of you. “There’s an empty seat right next to me you dummy!” It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be, but ghost or not, he is certainly a big boy.

He slides around to sit in your lap sideways, his legs resting on the empty loveseat space but all of his weight still perfectly balanced on your lap. “Is this better, schnookums? Honeybunny? Light of my death?” He bats his eyelashes at you sweetly. He is not being sweet.

“You two need to get a room,” Lydia says, looking even more disgusted than she was with the burnt popcorn smell.

“We have one, it’s upstairs,” Beetlejuice counters.

“I have one,” you correct him.

“Babes, what’s yours is mine, remember?”

You promptly shift your lap and dump him onto the seat next to you unceremoniously. He lands with the amount of grace that you’d expect.

“Alright everyone, the dip is ready!” Delia’s singsong voice rings out as she and Charles bring in the rest of the food from the kitchen, and Delia plops the dip onto the coffee table by the chips. “I got the recipe online!” She says this fact like it’s a fun little surprise for everyone, as she likes to do.

“That’s great, and I think we got the movie all ready too,” Barbara says, and receives a thumbs up of confirmation from Adam.

With this, everybody finds a comfortable spot to sit as the movie begins playing, the studio logos rolling on the screen first. Charles and Delia on one couch, Lydia sitting in a strange lounging position on her soft chair, Adam and Barbara snuggling close on one loveseat, and you and Beetlejuice together on the other. You’re lucky that the television is so large, everyone’s already packed in enough as it is.

Beetlejuice scoots closer to you, and this time, he genuinely is being sweet. He looks up at you with those big brown eyes before snuggling his head against your shoulder affectionately. You reach your arm around his body to hold him closer, bringing your hand up to run your fingers through his hair, always its favorite place to be. He sighs contentedly next to you, his eyes closing in bliss for a moment before they reopen to watch what’s happening on the TV, unwilling to miss a thing. His light but comforting weight pressing against you is like your own personal weighted blanket, immediately making you relax all of the muscles in your body with his mere close presence. Your own gaze lingers on his pretty features for a moment longer, before getting the distinct feeling that someone is watching you. Looking up, you see everyone watching the movie, aside from Adam and Barbara, who are cuddled together and subtly peeking over at you two of you. At getting caught, they shoot you identical sheepish grins, all endearing and full of fondness in the way their eyes crinkle at you and your demon. You can’t help but give them a coy smile back before you all return your attention to the screen, holding the ones that you love close in your heart and arms.

Author’s Note: WOW. HOW DID THIS END UP SO LONG. this absolutely CLEARS my longest fic record by a fuckton of words. i have no idea, this started as a little blurb when i saw beetlejuice in nyc and then i saw it again on tour and my bff inspired me to continue it and helped with some beta reading (shout-out! go read his fics of beej & others at wretched-devil, they’re absolutely lovely) and things just kinda spiraled outta control. this fic had my studious ass on bad dragon looking up monster cock references, it was so serious to me. welp, hope it was fun for y’all too, thanks for reading!!

[graceofgondor]

Hi bsf !!

I saw that you’ve been posting a lot about The Sound of Music recently. So I wanted to ask you, what are your top 5 favorite musicals??

It can be movie musicals or stage productions, either works! I hope you had/have the best day ever, mwah🩵

HIII tysm for the ask bsf this is fun!!

My top 5 musicals are sooo basic I fear but here it goes haha.

Newsies - (the movie not the live show... unfortunately the live show disappointed me.) kenny ortega's direction is just soo underrated!! (plus the choreo, set/costume design, story, and OFC soundtrack is to die for) and christian bale is one of my faves <3

The Sound of Music - (obv!!!) I am yet to see it on broadway but I hope I can see the upcoming revival! (I've seen my old high school do it but that doesn't really count lol) I love the film so much though its so timeless and magical <33 honestly between it and newsies they're like little parasites in my brain, I'm soo obsessed they just never get old for me.

Hamilton - (yesss the most basic one on here) I just saw it live a few weeks ago and it was FANTASTIC. both the music and the technical aspects are just incredible. it's popular for a reason!! plus obviously I adore the proshot too and have listened to the soundtrack for years.

Mamma Mia! - I was in the ensemble for this one when I was in high school and it was sooo fun!! obviously the movie is great too, that was my introduction to it. i'm seeing it live for the first time in a couple of months, so so excited. I know it's a jukebox musical but it's arguably the best one so it's kind of hard to complain haha.

Back to The Future - a more recent one but omg this one blew me away when I saw it a few months ago!! I hadn't really listened to the soundtrack (aside from huey lewis ofc) or known much about it at all and it shocked me so much! if you ever get a chance to see it I would highly recommend. it's one of my fav movies so I had decently high expectations and yet they delivered!! our george mcfly was so insanely good too so props to him for being "coordinately-uncoordinated" as my friend said haha. plus the technical aspects are literally insane and sooo creative! (the delorean actually flies in the air if you see it on broadway, which they obviously can't do touring but even without it the pulley system was crazy)

i have a habit of preferring movie versions of musicals and i'm not sure if that's just the film girl in me or if it's simply because until very recently i had few opportunities to see any live. newsies is it's own story because it started as a movie-musical, but otherwise yeah idk something about the movie versions man </3

anyway yeah that's my top 5!! tbh we could put newsies and tsom on their own pedestal cause i love them a little extra 🙈

ty again for the ask!!

[toonice113]

MAKEUP ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ IWHEO AU

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ I wrote this in like 30 minutes, oh and I'm going to start adding extra visuals to every part of this story so make sure to go check them here for a little extra ◡̈

Milo and Maeve had always enjoyed sitting with their mama as she did her makeup, when they were babies Arya would set their bouncers in the bathroom while she got ready and both babies would keep their eyes on her the whole time. When they got a bit older she would let them play with her clean brushes to keep them distracted, and when they were old enough to play with toys she got them their own toy makeup kits, the kind that didn’t have any product but allowed them to pretend they were doing their makeup along with their mom.

The twins first week of preschool was coming to an end and they seemed to be adjusting well to it. Luke had been the one to pick them up today, hurrying them to the car as he had multiple errands he needed to run and one of the stores he had to visit was closing soon.

“How was school today guys?” He asked reversing out of his parking spot and driving out of the school 

Luke knew this question would open up the flood, his kids loved talking, especially this week as they were excited to share everything they’d done while being away from their parents

“And then this boy was rude to Milo so I chirped him back and he cried” Maeve finished her story and Luke realized his son had been quiet this whole time

Stopping at a red light Luke took the opportunity to turn to the backseat “What happened bud?” He asked concerned

“Nothing” Milo mumbled 

“It’s okay daddy, I defended him” Maeve said proudly “I think uncle Jack Jack will be proud of my chirping”

Luke knew he would have to talk to his daughter about how she couldn’t chirp her classmates and make them cry later, but for now his worry was on his little boy.

Arriving at the store he parked the car and sighed, opening the back door of his car and shuffling into the backseat, sandwiched awkwardly between the two kids in their car seats, his long legs squished comically “Alright Milo, why don’t you tell me what this boy said?” Milo just looked at him not saying anything “Come on bud, I won’t be mad but I can’t help if you don’t tell me what happened” 

“He said I couldn’t play with the makeup because it was for girls only” Milo spoke in a hushed tone, his head low, not making eye contact 

“Well he’s just wrong there” Luke said “Makeup is not just for girls, anyone can wear makeup if they want to” 

“Mommy used to do makeup on boys everyday!” Maeve referenced her mom’s job on broadway from before they were born, one that she had lots of pictures of that she’d shared with the kids 

“That’s s right” Luke nodded “Sometimes boys wear makeup for their jobs, and sometimes they just wear it because they like it” 

“You don’t wear makeup, uncle Nico doesn’t wear makeup, neither does uncle Jack or uncle Quinny” Milo said finally looking up, eyes welling up in tears

“Yeah that’s true, because we don’t really like it that much, and we’re probably really bad at it too, but if we wanted to we would” Luke looked out the car window noticing a pharmacy next to the store he needed to go into, one that would probably close in the next few minutes, but that could wait because right now he had a much more important task, making sure that his son knew that it was okay for him to like the things he liked “Look, how about we go into the store and look for some makeup we can wear? I’m not good at it but maybe you and Maeve can give me a makeover” Milo nodded hesitantly and Maeve clapped 

“You are the prettiest boy ever daddy” Maeve giggled as she swiped a brush over his cheeks, Milo giggling too as he dipped his finger into a glittery eyeshadow once more 

“Oh am I now?” Luke opened an eye looking at his kids before closing it again instantly to avoid being poked 

“Yeah, you are” Milo said moving from Luke’s face to put the glitter on his own face 

Luke and the kids ended up going to two stores covered in glitter eyeshadow, pink lipstick and way too much blush, people definitely stared at the hockey player in judgement, but Luke wore the makeup proudly, refusing to make his children feel like they ever had to hide what they liked or who they were for others.

Back home Arya laughed when she saw them and helped them get the cheap makeup off before offering them a spa night with face masks and nail polish after Luke explained the situation. Safe to say Luke got chirped for his metallic blue nails at practice the next day, but he just laughed it off and bit back about how everyone was just jealous they didn’t have their own personal salon at home.

[alyona11]

Hi! So I am very new to Hadestown and I am watching the bootleg. I really love the dynamic between Hades and Persephone, but there is one thing that kind of rub me in not so good way, is Hey Little Song Bird implied that Hades and Eurydice slept together? I am seeing a lot of interpretation and it genuinely confused the hell out of me asdfghk

Hi! Well, tbf it's a tricky question, but the short answer is that Hadestown suggests that something might have happened behind closed doors. The rest is up to audience and actor's interpretation.

For example, Anaïs Mitchell often mentions in Working On a Song that in early workshops she often went with the idea that Hades cheats and pretty regularly even though these affairs mean nothing to him since the only person he loves is Persephone. It even had a cut song:

In her early drafts/productions of Hadestown you can often get the vibe that from her point of view it doesn't matter as much because they are eternal beings and love each other since the world began so does it even matter for them?

However, by NYTW this story line was cut apart from Persephone's line in How Long:

"I don't mind if you look at other girls, now and then"

"The girl means nothing to me"

"I know"

Plus the staging in NYTW Papers and Hades' protective peacock behavior with Eurydice around Orpheus in the scene also gives you a thought that they might have had an affair? Plus some bits like the fact that she has a line in Why We Build a Wall and her words "But don't you see? That's different with me!" - "Different than who? They thought they were different too!" Could also be interpreted as Hades suggesting some special conditions by granting her a role of a romantic interest. Whether the interest is real or not and did he use it or not is again up to your interpretation of NYTW Hades. He is more of a morally dubious guy (as all ht Hades are) so it's more up to you to either believe he would have cheated to put Persephone in her place or would just use showing off Eurydice as a brutal way to get Persephone's interest.

As for Broadway, I think it's still suggested and you can find profs in the lyrics but I think that they are what they are - suggestive and leave you to interprete it whichever way you feel comfortable. I think the biggest suggestion remains in Flowers with the line:

'I trembled when he laid me out

"You won’t feel a thing," he said, "when you go down"'

Which kinda can have a death meaning and sex meaning, tbf someone could have written a good article on how those topics are connected in Hadestown. So here, again chose one of the two or both.

But again, Broadway also changed the lyrics in How Long and the whole staging in Papers so it's less suggestive.

My personal opinion based on Broadway production is that it all depends on how the actor plays it and whether you believe this particular Hades is the type to sleep with Eurydice to get Persephone's attention and prove he is still attractive or he is more of a person who doesn't care about having the affair and his only goal is to get Persephone to react somehow by composing such a messed up hurtful plan. Personally, I prefer the second option maybe because I'm a pussy or maybe because I see Hades (whom I mostly base on Patrick Page ht Broadway previews) like a person who is desperate to get Persephone's attention in such a radical way like a cat pushing objects from your table to see your reaction. He wants to be stopped, he wants any reaction from Persephone. He even touches her by the shoulder before going into the office like "Look!! Look! I'm absolutely totally leaving! To cheat! See! Hey come on! I'll even take off my tie to show that I'm serious! Don't you wanna stop me???". Seems kinda way too extra to me. Like he could have just gotten to the office after parading a pretty girl in front of her and it would be understood that it's for an affair. But he takes so much time to make sure she understands that he can find himself someone when all he wants is for her to come back to him with open arms. I'm not sure he has the guts to actually damage his relationship to an irreversible degree (considering Broadway Hades is never stated as a cheater before the Eurydice sub-plot). Like it's one thing to take a mortal before her time and parade her in front of your wife (because what is a mortal life after all?) as a "replacement" and it's the other way to actually cheat on her and deal with the fact that she might never forgive him again if it is a deal-breaker for her considering they seem to be true to each other for all these years.

One interesting thing to note here as well is how Hades actors play the reaction to Persephone's line in How Long:

"He has the kind if love that you and I once had"

Because his instant reaction is "OH SHIT once had?? Does she think I don't love her still?? OH SHIT I BROUGHT THE GIRL THIS IS WHY SHE MIGHT THINK THAT", so he answers to that:

"The girl means nothing to me!"

Depending on the actor and she show the line sounds either scared, confused, angry, undignified etc. So it's once again up to you to interprete why he reacts this way: is he angry because she suggested he would actually cheated on her? Is he angry because she called him out on that affair? Is he confused and scared because she thinks he doesn't love her anymore because of his foolish decision to tease her in such a cruel way?

That's up to you.

P.S. I think one of the most interesting studies of the subject and Hades' character that I've read in a fic for that matter was the Songbird chapter of Winters Nigh and Summers O're. You can check it out, but I will warn you that it's probably one of the heaviest chapters of that fic in the emotional sense and it has explicit parts (don't worry, nothing bad happens to Eurydice. Well...apart from dying, I guess), so check out the warnings if you decide to read it.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Any fics where one of the boys aren’t taking care of themselves/super busy or stressed and the other steps in to help or take care of themselves?

There's a lot on a03 hurt/comfort tag, including canon fics. We also have a great hurt/comfort tab. Here are a selection. ~Jen

Kind of Magic by @rockitman

Fives times Kurt was there to kiss it better

~~~~~

Sleep Tips for the Chronically Nocturnal by @rockItMan

Kurt can't sleep and Blaine takes that as a personal challenge

~~~~~

Blood and Fire by realmsoffreedom

He doesn’t always know what to say. Sometimes, he tries to string together what he thinks are the right words, the it’ll get better soons and the you aren’t your depressions, but he knows that they rarely help. Sometimes all he can do is sit here and hold Blaine, provide a warm body, a physical manifestation of all of those you’re not alones. If it means staying in bed all weekend, Kurt’s happy to do it. Just as long as it makes Blaine feel like someone is in his corner, even if he himself isn’t.

~~~~~

When you fall by notthetoothfairy

Kurt and Blaine meet at Elliott’s LGBTQ+ support group. Maybe Kurt is exactly the person Blaine needed to talk to about his past. And maybe Blaine can help Kurt get over his trust issues in return. Warnings: Characters talk about bullying, violence, non-supportive parents and death of parents (mostly canon occurrences). One-shot, prompted by anonymous on Tumblr.

~~~~~

Lovely, don’t you ever Change by orphan account

After the premiere of their first Broadway show, Kurt reads some comments online that resurface old insecurities.

~~~~~

The touch of your hand (says you'll catch me) by @cerriddwenluna

The smile on your face let's me know that you need me There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if wherever I fall You say it best when you say nothing at all

~~~~~

Glory by Amberlovesocean

Kurt is assaulted after singing at a school dance and is left for dead, thrown aboard an empty train car at the railroad freight yard to hide the crime. He wakes up to find he’s been tossed off the car somewhere in an Oregon logging camp, 2500 miles from home. A curly-haired kid named Blaine finds Kurt and protects him by hiding him in his cabin and teaching him how to survive.

~~~~~

Hail To Whatever You Found in the Sunlight That Surrounds You by Water_Nix

On the third of August in Blaine Anderson’s ninth year, something momentous happens: he sees a boy crying on the beach and decides to do something about it. What he gets in return is a best friend, a confidant, an ally to help him through the ups and downs. They spend one month together every summer. One perfect month until they are old enough to escape together. Eleven Augusts and the letters in between.

~~~~~

Inevitable by mmerainbows

Kurt thought he had reached the point where he could forgive Blaine, and move on with his own life, keeping Blaine as his best friend and nothing more. However, when the truth comes out about what happened, Kurt returns to Blaine to help him. Trigger warning: rape

~~~~~

The Awakening by @heartsmadeofbooks

Kurt Hummel has put his perfect life together carefully, making sure all the pieces fit exactly how he wanted them to. But all it takes is one name from his past to make all his hard work go to waste - Blaine Anderson.

~~~~~

Coffee, black by @quizasvivamos

Moving through life in survival mode makes stopping to breathe feel like a fatal mistake. Eventually, emotions become alien, and it’s difficult to imagine the capability of ever feeling anything again.

And then one might find himself on a precipice, which is precisely where Blaine found himself: married, thirty, and standing at the edge of Lands End.

[multifandomghost]

a small (oneshot??? imagine??? idek man) thing based on this post

words: 1.6k

let's just imagine Joann isn't closing that does not happen in wade's universe

not proofread + english is not my first language + sorry if your name is alex, dallas, or paige

___

You worked at a small Joann location. You enjoyed working there: it was fun, you had great coworkers, and it paid... relatively well. Sure, sometimes the shifts were boring and downright tedious, but you genuinely enjoyed working there, and you never knew the exact reason why. Maybe the excessive smell of fresh cloth or the fluorescent ceiling lights damaged your brain already.

The best part of your day, however, was whenever a locally well-known man, Wade Wilson, stepped into the store and went on a mission to find the two same things he always bought: spandex and pleather.

He had been going at it for quite a while before you were even hired. Heck, he came here so often that everyone already knew who he was, what he always wanted, and his... strange habits.

You yourself had run into him more than once, the first time while arranging a fallen fabric on the same aisle he would always stride into. He was... bizarre, to say the least, but he had been relatively nice to you, so you didn't mind his unusual behaviour. He spoke to you so much that you always awaited his arrival, and he even seemed to consider you a friend of some sort.

However, the amount of spandex and pleather he bought was both concerning and intriguing at the same time.

So much so that your coworkers had a little made-up game (which, in reality, was more of a chance to gossip.)

"What do you think he does, buying so much pleather and spandex?" One of your coworkers, Paige, asked to you and two other workers. At this point, it was a weekly ritual to presume what this mysterious man did for a living and why he needed so much of the same materials. "I personally believe he's, like... some kind of fashion enthusiast." She said as she folded some fabric. "Be it a cosplayer or just a fashion guru, he has to do *something* like so." The rest of you nodded while listening to Paige.

"I personally think he's some kind of dancer." Another coworker, Alex, mused. "Just think about it: He always buys the same things, and, well... the job has to pay well, somehow, given how much he buys from here."

"Yeah, he's probably a dancer." Paige agreed, then noticed a customer waiting at a cash register. She left to take care of it.

"But the materials themselves aren't *that* expensive." You countered. "What he takes combined is less than $100, at least if he buys just a few yards of each... so he doesn't need to do something so sophisticated, does he?"

"Well, no." Alex muttered, reconsidering their assumption. "I still stand by the belief that he's a dancer. Could be a stripper, backup dancer, maybe he works at Broadway... who knows? I'm just assuming."

"I second the stripper theory." The third coworker, Dallas, spoke up. Paige came back, listening intently. "I mean, have you *seen* the man? The muscles and them broad shoulders... oof, he'd make a quick buck in that industry. If I didn't already have my eyes set on someone, I would've already asked him out."

"Oh my god, Dallas." You facepalmed as both Alex and Paige laughed. Some customers turned to look at you strangely.

___

That conversation, however, was months ago.

Like, literal months ago.

To you, it was as if you hadn't seen him in decades. It must've felt that way because a lot of other things happened while he was absent. Still, it had been so long since this particular Joann store has seen the infamous Wade Wilson step foot into it. You knew him, and it was bizarre, even downright wrong, that he had just suddenly stopped visiting. So bizarre, that you and the rest of your coworkers *genuienly* thought of putting up missing posters of him.

Even some customers who saw him often wondered where he was. You'd had two kids, a middle-aged man, and an old woman ask for him, just for you to shrug sadly.

The old lady's response resonated with you the most: "That's such a shame. That man brought so much energy to this place."

His absence was most noticeable, however, in the aisle he used to always be in. The spandex and pleather he used to always buy, now being part of big bundles of themselves, were now sitting there, forgotten.

The sight of said leftover spandex and pleather would sometimes leave you sad and wondering. Where was this guy? Why did he suddenly disappear like Gotye after releasing 'Somebody That I Used To Know'? The question burned into your mind and you found yourself wanting answers the more time passed.

_____

One miraculous day, however, it finally happened.

The man that had been gone for months finally set foot in the store once more. You immediately recognized his scars. You sighed, relieved. He wasn't dead or missing, he had just been absent for quite a while. But, why, you wondered?

However, as much as you wanted to greet him with all the excitement you were keeping inside, you couldn't help but notice the figure behind him.

An intimidatingly tall man loomed behind Wade as he chattered endlessly. A chill ran down your spine as you gave the man a once-over. He seemed very familiar to you, like you've seen him before... but you didn't know where. His gruff behaviour made you think he was the kind of person you wouldn't want to upset. His silence didn't help you in assuming things about him. He didn't even say anything when Wade spotted you, and greeted you cheerfully. "Snookums! Long time no see!"

You approached him, excited. "Hi. It's been a while since you've been here. We've been... kinda worried. How have you been?"

"I'm doing *amazingly*. I feel even better than last night while I was eating some Mexican." Wade said proudly, then patted the back of the man behind him. The man seemed to slightly inch away from his touch. "Pookie, I have to present you to someone. [Name], this is Logan. I know a lot of you have been waiting soooo loooong to meet him... don't think I didn't see you ogling him a few seconds ago."

You blinked. "I wasn't-"

"Of course you weren't. But you should know... he's as snuggly as a bear, and has the character of a bear, too. Be careful with him, though, he can get temperamental quickly." Wade winked at you, and Logan scoffed.

"If you don't shut up-" Logan began.

"Nope, nope, I still have to introduce you to each other. Now, say hello to the dear reader." Wade nudged him.

Logan looked straight at you, and nodded in greeting. You nodded back politely, while Logan only let out a gruff noise of acknowledgement and annoyance while glaring at Wade. You tried not to stare at him too much, taking Wade's playful warnings seriously.

"Now, I know what you're thinking, and don't worry, babycakes, I didn't cheat on you." Wade reassured while patting your head. "You're still one of my favorite people ever. Peanut here is just in need of a tour, you know. He's new here. Moving from Fox to the MCU has been kind of hard on him."

You nodded once more. You didn't really understand what he meant, but you just assumed Logan was new in the city. You looked between both men, and you swore you saw Logan roll his eyes and grumble slightly at Wade calling him 'Peanut'.

You nodded in understanding. "Are you here for the usual?"

Wade grinned. "You know me."

You smirked. "Want me to guide you or do you still know the way?"

Wade gasped dramatically. "How dare you assume I've forgotten the way! I haven't been gone for *that* long, snookums. An addict can't forget the cheat codes." You laughed at his comment, and Logan stood as silent as ever, but made his presence known with an occasional sigh.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around, then. Enjoy your shopping." You commented, gesturing a small goodbye, as Wade waved at you and Logan did a small movement of his head.

You stood in place as Wade walked over to his usual, empty isle, Logan walking next to him. They spoke after a while, and you only caught fragments of their conversation.

"What do you think I fix your suit with this?" Wade asked to Logan, holding up a nearby leopard print fabric.

"No way in hell." Logan replied, irritated. He looked around, clearly itching to leave. "Hurry up, bub. I want to leave."

You watched for a while before turning around and walking away, still wondering what Wade had been doing for the past few months. While you pondered, you went over to a cash register, the one where your coworker Dallas was. It was clear he was staring at Logan, and he was fascinated by him. You've never seen him this entranced thanks to a singular man.

"Okay, he's *definitely* some kind of stripper." Dallas mumbled. "How did he manage to score a man like that? Goddamn. If he turns out to not be a stripper, I'm gonna be *so* disappointed."

You facepalmed, but also warmly chuckled, half-amused by Dallas' comments. 

Dallas sighed. "This calls for our first 'game' meeting in months. I think we all need to reassess our theories." He said, as he pulled out his phone. He was messaging the rest of your coworkers to notify them about the 'emergency game meeting'. "Alex is gonna have a field day with this one."

You smiled slightly and took out your phone too, seeing the messages Dallas had sent. While you saw the messages, you couldn't help but notice both Wade and Logan, still arguing over the leopard print fabric. You didn’t know what was funnier-the fact that Wade kept insisting to Logan that he could *totally* pull the leopard print look, or the fact that Logan hadn’t left yet.

___

(A/N i saw that imagine and i got so inspired lol)

[skylathescholarly]

My brain has been struggling to support Newsies brainrot and Batfam brainrot, and the result shouldn't surprise you.

Two words: Batfam Newsies AU.

I was struck with it halfway through watching a live production of the Broadway version (amazing), but it would probably be more based on the 1992 movie (childhood favorite, I know it better. As in I can quote it all to you.)

So hear me out- I think Jason as Jack Kelly. In 92sies, Jack Kelly is a fake name, so his real name revealed at the end can be ✨Jason Peter Todd✨! But like, grew up on the streets, no living family, watches out for the younger/newer kids, frustrated with the system. For him, I think, Santa Fe would be a lot more metaphorical, since I can't picture him wanting to leave Gotham, but Santa Fe (the song) just is Jason, you can't tell me otherwise.

Tim as Crutchy, and here's where more of the Broadway comes in, because I love their sibling dynamic in it, and it's a little less so in 92sies. Still there, but not as much. The live show I saw had a younger girl as Crutchy, and their dynamic was just amazingggg. Anyway. Maybe he ran away, maybe his parents died early, maybe they just ditched him, whatever. He does this now.

Dick as Davey, Damian as Les. Now their personalities don't match up quiiiite as well, but I think it could be done. If Dami's a little younger, perhaps. I'm thinking Dick got shuttled into the orphanage and met Dami, and bc it's still Gotham, the orphanage sucks and they're supposed to go make money or whatever. I dunno, that's the tricky bit.

We can keep Snyder, Medda (unless you wanted to put Selina there, but I don't really see it.) the Delanceys and Weasel, and the rest of the gang of newsies as is, unless anyone has suggestions for them. I'm all ears!

I'd go by the movie for this and have Clark Kent be Bryan Denton, the reporter, mostly because I can't really think of anyone to fit the role of Katherine, and definitely not someone I'd ship with Jason. Plus then, Pulitzer can be Lex Luthor and that's amazing to me lol.

And finally Bruce as Governor of New York Gotham, Teddy Roosevelt! I'd definitely have him play a larger role. You have Jason/Jack hitching a ride on his carriage from the Refuge, and then maybe trying to steal his tires or something later on, they talk, blah blah blah, strike stuff.

Of course, at the end of the strike and all, the brothers are closer than ever, and the nice old Governor is like "mine"

I don't know if this is even coherent, but please feel free to add your ideas!! If you use this to write a fic (please someone, I want to but I'm so busy, maybe eventually) just make sure to credit 😊 if there are any Newsies x Batman fics, PLEASE link them!!! I'd love to see it!

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"A Lack Of Climax In Act Three." Reverse! Poly! Ghostface X FEM! AFAB! Reader.

Hello, hello, hello! So at long last, the very much awaited follow up and part two to Lessons In Faking It Redux for Multi-May! I thought hard about this, I hope this is worth the wait and you all love it. I put a fuck ton of effort into this one and honestly it hurt to write! I am so mean to Billy and Stu in this but I don’t mean it, I love em still, I promise! But for now, let’s put that love aside and lose ourselves in this fun AU idea. 

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 3k. Reverse! Poly! Ghostface X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Warnings: Cheating. Lying. Fake Dating. Faking It In General. Cunnilingus. Fingering. “Loss Of Virginity”. Vaginal Sex. Nipple Play. Reader Is A Manipulative Asshole. Really Mean Shit, Hurt. Angst. Blood. Gore. Murder.

—

The big night was finally here. 

To say that this was highly anticipated was an understatement. The culmination of over a year of work for your girlfriends and months of your own effort leading up to tonight. Sidney and Tatum were such good actors throughout this process, it was inspiring. The pair of them had killed a few more people by this point and had been playing up the scared and concerned act amazingly well, doing all they could to keep suspicion off of them. It made you all the more smitten with them. The duality and depth, the complexity they have inside of them, makes you wish you were sandwiched between the pair of them as opposed to Billy and Stu like you currently were. 

Sidney and Tatum had this grand finale planned for a long time, a party at Sidney’s house, currently in full swing, was going to be the setting and so far everything was going off without a hitch. You were doing your best to keep your eyes on them while staying close to Billy and Stu, still playing the part of loving and caring girlfriend who was obscenely into them both. Billy was being extra clingy tonight, understandably the murders kicking up around town has him feeling stressed, you were excited that after tonight you would never have to deal with him again. After tonight you wouldn’t have to feel his arms around your waist while sitting in his lap, wouldn’t have to pretend you weren’t cringing inside when Stu would kiss you, the list drags on and on but there is no time to linger on that. 

You notice the signal you had worked out with Tatum earlier, now for the next phase and you had to initiate it, time to put all that “practice” to good use. Everything before this was the rehearsal but this was like opening night on Broadway, you had to impress and dazzle and make them truly believe your act; and this was arguably much more challenging than any of the “read throughs” that occurred in your girlfriend’s bedrooms, you hope all the work pays off. 

You’d been planning this yourself for a long time but unlike Sidney and Tatum’s openness, you hid exactly what you had in mind, for fun. Sure the two gave lots of direction but ultimately the final cut was left to your discretion, a show of trust from them that you appreciated. You can feel their eyes on you, looking at you from across the room, over the throng of the other inebriated party goers. You finish the rest of your own drink, which was free of any alcohol but the boys didn’t know that, before placing the red solo cup off to the side. Next you were turning in Billy’s lap, straddling him so you were now face to face, your arms hanging loosely around his neck as you looked down at him. “How you holding up, tiger?”

“You know how he is, head wayyy too full, way too stressed and worried-” Stu teased, he reached forward over your shoulder, an attempt was made to ruffle his hair but Billy yanked his head back, dodging out of the way with a sigh, “Can you blame me?”

“No, of course not. But Stu is right, look at all the people here, you are totally safe.” You reassured and he nodded but still seemed unconvinced as he said, “I know that but-”

“But nothing, listen to us man.” Stu cut in and you say, “Yeah. You want us to help distract you? Keep your mind on other things?” 

“What did you have in mind?” He asked and you leaned in closer, “C’mon, I can’t show you here, we need to go upstairs for what I’m thinking of.”  

You knew that it wouldn’t take much to convince either of them, but one well placed sentence and they were practically dragging you off to go upstairs with them, you have to hold your laugh in at how easy they were. To be fair this wasn’t the hard part, convincing them you were not only into the sex but getting off on it would be the real test. You meet Sidney and Tatum’s gaze as you walk past, Stu leading you with Billy right behind. You fight back your smirk, Sidney hides her own behind her sleeve, a subtle wave, a single that when matched with her eyes said, “Try to have fun.” Tatum hides her laugh behind the rim of her own cup.

It all feels different. Not just from what you did with your girlfriends, that was a give in, but the physical affection you had shared with Billy and Stu thus far to keep up your charade felt less seriously than it did tonight. You wonder if it is because you know this will be the last time or if because this time it is actually going somewhere, it isn’t just kissing with forced enthusiasm and some awkward feeling up, well it was at this moment, but the point is, it wasn’t going to stay just this. 

It progresses quickly but that is fine, it sells it as rushed, passionate, all full of need, they certainly seem swept up in it. Your arms wrap around Billy’s neck as your tongue enters his mouth, you are very in your head, trying to make every single movement and sound read as effortless and natural when in reality it was a calculated dance that neither Billy nor Stu knew they were a part of. You really should be praised for this, the soft moan you let out was thoroughly convincing, even though his tongue was unpleasantly rough and he tasted of cheap beer that threatened to turn your stomach. The make out continues as Stu feels you up, rolling your nipples between his fingers in a way that harkens back to trying to tune an old radio. It makes you want to roll your eyes from how boring and not to your taste it was, you think that you could school that into a display of pleasure rather than annoyance, but you could save that for later. 

You did feel some minor nerves but when you actually had more of their clothing off, touching them, it put you much more at ease. They are so responsive, alive, much more so than a regular silicone dildo locked into a strap-on harness, even a loose grip and an easy pace of your hand has either one of them bucking their hips with a groan. You don’t know why you were so worried, this will probably be easier than you thought. 

Sidney tastes much better than Billy does, she has this almost sweet and salty tang and he has this bitter taste, metallic and sweaty and much less pleasant. Stu’s flavour isn’t much better, and his blow job etiquette leaves a lot to be desired with how he buries his fingers in your hair and forces you down until you gag, doesn’t let up until you push with more force than you should have to on his thighs to be able to just fucking breathe properly. You were glad you pre-lubed yourself in the bathroom to help make this easier because Tatum was right, Stu’s tongue is overrated. 

He is sloppy in an overly enthusiastic way that sadly, doesn’t make up for the lack of any real technique, he can’t hold a candle to any of the experiences you have had previously with your girlfriends. Your fingers thread in his short hair and you pull, rolling your hips with a moan as you try to think of Sidney being in between your thighs earlier that very week. Stu doesn’t make it easy for you to pretend with how rough his treatment is, Sidney’s face is softer as is the stroke of her tongue but still you manage to be convincing that it felt fantastic rather than painful and overstimulating in the worst way. 

Again you thank God for the lube you applied because lord knows Stu’s oral skills and Billy’s pawing hands aren’t doing anything to help make you naturally wet. 

Things progress further and you fear that this might seriously hurt, it doesn’t thankfully, but there is a present ache, who would have thought penetration with a real dick rather than the imitation would feel so different? If anything the few sharp inhales and tense body help, again they think you have no experience and so showing no pain outwardly wouldn’t make sense. You play it all up of course, both the pain and the pleasure, one blending into the other as it progresses.

You insisted on condoms of course but still, it was an uncomfortably intimate experience in Billy’s arms, him looking down at you as you “lose your virginity to him”, he was clear how totally fucking lovesick he is. Doing this in front of Stu, him so close, touching you, talking to you, made this all the worse, it was nearly overwhelming and not in a fun way. 

It pushes you forward, you play hardball and really take initiative and all in all, ten minutes, two condoms later you are definitely sore and putting your clothes back on. They were still clinging onto you, soon as your shirt is pulled back down and your jeans are buttoned they have you all wrapped up in your arms and you want to groan and push them off, you just had them literally inside of you two minutes ago, can’t they chill out for five fucking seconds?

Instead you take a deep breath and sling an arm around each of them, not much longer, less than an hour, you do your best to attempt to enjoy what would surely be your last cuddle session in your faux triad. 

Said next hour was pretty chaotic. The distraction worked well, got everyone else out of the house except for who was meant to die and you were finally all where you were supposed to be. You were heaving, just finished running, Sidney and Tatum have Billy and Stu injured and cornered and even then, when it looked like they were done for, their concern was with you, a shout to get out of here, to run and the pair of masked killers straighten up, a look over their respective shoulders and a question of, “Should we fill em in?”

“I think that is only fair.” Came your response, a nod of agreement from them along with saying, “You are so right.” 

The masks came off and the looks of shock on their faces were a million times more satisfying then the sex you had earlier with them. 

Those looks slightly morphed to ones of confusion as you walked right up between the pair, just like you had with them previously, an arm slings around each of them, “Jesus that is a lot of blood, you two are brutal.” 

“Had to make sure they wouldn’t get back up and try anything.” Sidney said with a shrug and Tatum, same as always, a tap of her cheek and you smile, a fond roll of your eyes before you lay a kiss down on her crimson smeared cheek, she greets you once the action of affection has been laid down, “Hi baby.” 

“Hiya Tate.” You coo in return with a smile. 

“How’s your night been?” You ask and Sidney scoffs, “Exhausting, hosting a party is just so much work, you know?”

You giggle, you love this, Tatum spilled to you that after getting stab happy Sidney gets jokey and silly, seeing it in person was too fun, too good for words. “Yeah, you must be dog tired.” 

“Mmm, seriously. You know what is the worst thing about hosting a party?” Tatum asks and you respond curiously, “What is that?”

“The clean up.” Tatum said with a wave of her knife towards Billy and Stu, leaning against each other, clutching their wounds and still bleeding at a very steady rate. Finally Stu speaks up, “What the fuck is going on?!”

It interrupts your laughing over Tatum’s joke, and Sidney said, “Awe they still aren’t getting it.”

“You wanna help spell it out, baby?” The blonde asked and you nodded, “Course.” 

You let go of them and take a step forward, you crouch down and look between the pair, “So-” you gesture between you and Billy and Stu, “-this? Was an act. What was between us? Our whole entire relationship? Was made up. Completely false, well, at least on my end.”

Eyes locked on Billy’s face, his lips are parted, there are tears staining his cheeks along, cutting messy tracks through the sweat and the blood, “You…You faked our entire relationship for-”

“Months.” You said easily, as if it was a plain as the clear blue sky, cutting off his sentence and finishing it all in one. Stu jumped in, there was blood down his chin, he had been coughing, he was cut deep, “The dates, the talks, the-”

“Sex? Oh my God, especially the sex.” You laughed and Billy seemed to get angry, “No way, I don’t believe it, there is no way that it was all pretend!” 

“It was! It very much was.” You stood up straight, and Stu chimed in, “Yeah, I call bullshit-” 

“Oh yeah? You need to be convinced?” You ask and when their expressions do not shift you put more of that “practice” to good use. Immediately switching it up, your eyes close, hands in your own hair, a few deep breaths, a few impassioned moans, calling out, sounding pitch perfect as if you were mid-fuck, “Shi-shit, Billy, ah! Stu, right there, don’t stop-”

Billy looked so betrayed, so hurt, it was delicious. Tatum praised, “Man, you do that shit so well.” You thanked her, "Couldn't do it without either of you giving me all those experiences to call back on." You then proceeded to launch into continuing to berate the two men bleeding out at your feet.

“Christ, you are just so fucking convinced that it is impossible for me to not be pathetically desperate for you two idiots like you are for me.” You sigh as you take a step back to be between Sidney and Tatum. “If your small brains can believe it, along with pretending to be with you, I’ve actually been really dating these two on the sly.” 

The shock just continues, stunned silence as you heap on, “And it was all their idea! Been helping me the whole way so I could assist them and make this-” You gesture to the messy kitchen around you, “-all happen.” 

You didn’t stop talking, “Every time we finished a hang out, a study sesh, a date, I would leave you both and go running back to them and man we would fucking laugh and laugh over all the dumbass shit you said.” 

“Oh fuck, remember that night you told us about Billy telling you he loved you?!” Tatum laughed, her hand smacking you on the shoulder and Sidney perked up even more, “Oh my God!”

“I just love you so much-” You three mocked through fake tears before falling into a serious laughing fit. 

“I did! I did love you, we both did-” Billy sobbed and you said, “I know that you did. It’s what made it so easy to trick you.”

“I told you everything, I was so open with you an-and you just-” His sentence broke off and you said, “Broke your heart? I know. Poor baby, I can be a real bitch.”

Stu began to make a move to try and get up, holding his side and Tatum’s laughing cut off, she fell to her knees, fingers in his hair, not unlike yours were earlier and she had the knife to his throat. “Don’t think I won’t do it. I’ve thought so much about it. Could slice your throat up and make a massive mess with very little effort.” 

“You are all fucking crazy.” Stu spat and Sidney seemed less than impressed as she bit back, “Yeah real original Stuart.” 

Sidney sighed then before she said, “So I’m getting just a touch bored so allow me to spell it out. I killed your mom, me and Tate are gonna kill you and Stu and pin it all on your dad. Got it?” 

“Why?” Billy asked through more tears and you all groaned. “Oh my God, isn’t it obvious?”

Sidney kept going, “Because your mom ruined my fucking life, destroyed my family but yours stayed together! How is that fair?!”

Tatum chimed in, tone as lethal as she was, “It isn’t.” 

“Right. It isn’t! So me and Tate and your little not-girlfriend cooked up this scheme to even the scales a bit.” Sidney was approaching Billy, knife brandished and she kept talking, “It was laughably simple and I am so fucking excited that I am going to be the one to run you through and get away with it.”

Stu was getting weaker and weaker, the blood was welling up from how hard Tatum was holding the knife to his throat, “Fu-fuck you.”

“Awe, we already did that and I gotta say, it wasn’t anything to write home about. You both called it, Billy's fingering is terrible, and Stu couldn't use that tongue properly to save his life! I dunno how I managed to fake my way through that mess.” You mocked him further still before saying. “But really we should wrap this up so in closing, Stu?”

You turned to him, “You are without a doubt one of the biggest, dumbest, most undeservedly overconfident assholes I’ve ever had the displeasure of getting to know.” 

Turning to the other you say, “And Billy? You are a pathetic, whiny, fucking momma’s boy who no one is gonna miss.” 

“Cold blooded!” Tatum laughed and Sidney cheered, “Well said! Couldn’t have put it any better myself.”

A look from brunette to blonde, knives at the ready, positioned just so, you watch with bated breath as there is a question of, “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” 

[pardonmydelays]

maybe there's more context but i noticed a lot of the time, public criticism for projects lands really heavily on lmm's shoulders. the reason why i'm saying this is because i binged his projects and its reception. apparently, when in the heights 2021 came out, there was a lot of discourse about the lack of afro-latino representation in the movie: this itself is completely justifiable and good. we shouldn't be scared to critique and start conversations about media. but i was a bit confused because all of the blame was put on lin and not the director? maybe you can provide more context here: i know he's the show's original creator and is famous, so he's reasonably gonna get more scrutiny; and he did have a role as a producer, but he talked about how they tried to take out the piragua guy, etc. so i assumed he didn't have full control, and usually, the director is the main focus, no?

and of course that period where people hated the song in the little mermaid and the movie being eh was his fault, and even the bad songs in wish somehow being his fault (despite him not being part of that lmao). i'm an international fan that recently listened to in the heights and was really impressed, so i wasn't aware of all of this.

and then the projects of his that were well received seem to have this begrudging energy. people liking tick tick boom (which he directed) but heaping the praise on andrew garfield (who deserves it!!) and not any for lin? like wtf i thought y'all love to make him the sole focus of critique.

these are just my impressions based on some heavy online surfing, and i wanted to ask your opinion!

i actually agree with everything you said here, anon.

let's start with in the heights (2021). i don't know if you're one of my mutuals, but if you are, you probably know already that i am not afraid of criticizing the movie. maybe not because of the lack of representation (i am a white woman so i feel like it's not my place to say anything about this but i totally understand why others can feel excluded), i have other issues with it tho. but, as far as i can tell, lin was not responsible for the casting & yet he was the one who apologized. so they basically said they were talking about casting afro-latinos but they ended up with actors who were just perfect for the roles in their opinion (also, leslie grace, the actress who plays nina, is, in fact, afro-latina). & yes, they were trying to get rid of piragua guy, mostly because they couldn't find anyone who could play him & they asked lin if he could do it (he wasn't supposed to be in the movie AT ALL & he only agreed cause he wanted to save piragua guy). so yes, they put all the blame on lin but those were not exactly his choices. also, speaking of lack of representation, did we already forget about what he did for people of color on broadway? cause i saw so many people calling him racist & it's just... are you sure we are talking about the same guy?

about the scuttlebutt, i have so many things to say. well, first of all, lin was only responsible for like, three songs in the little mermaid? wild uncharted waters & for the first time? damn, those songs are really good & i know most people agree. but there's also the scuttlebutt. so the hate comes mostly from people who hate awkwafina & her voice in general, they find it annoying. well, guess what: this song was supposed to be annoying. maybe it's hard to say when you just listen to it without any context, but damn, just watch the movie & then it makes a lot of sense. second of all: the main audience? kids. & as far as i can tell, the kids absolutely loved it. not every song has to be a masterpiece, some songs are JUST FOR FUN, let's not forget about that. i know a lot of people also complain because it's rap, well guess what, this is lmm we are talking about so what did you expect? it's just his thing, it doesn't have to be everyone's cup of tea, but damn, it's not gonna change just because some people don't like it, deal with it.

speaking of tick tick boom, i absolutely loved the movie & i agree, andrew garfield was incredible, but yes, i haven't seen anyone talking about lin, like??? he literally directed it. i saw one comment on polish website tho that goes like "lin manuel miranda, keep this name in mind cause he's gonna be huge one day" & i was like oh boy, i have news for you... (i'm sorry i hate my country so fucking much).

i'm not even gonna say anything about disney's wish because there's no point. he had nothing to do with it, absolutely nothing, & people still blame him... this is just ridiculous. come on.

i saw a twitter thread some time ago where someone was trying to prove that lin is a bad person in general & honestly, spending so much time online just to prove that someone is problematic is insane to me. go touch some fucking grass instead of being a hater.

honestly, i wish i knew why people hate him so much, yes, i know he is not perfect & he made some mistakes in the past (he even apologized for some of them) but there are so many celebrities who are much more problematic & yet they will hate on lin & try to paint him as evil. i will never understand this.

[sendpseuds]

What fueled your transition into Obikin? How does writing about our boys compare to writing Obitine (the loveliest most badass woman).

Hi!

Thank you for the ask 🖤

Now, please forgive me while I ramble.

First of all, I love Obitine. I absolutely adore the love and respect they have for each other. Their relationship is complicated and nuanced and also just so so tragic and I've adored every fic I've written for them.

When I wrote my first Obikin fic [The Resolute Theater Presents] it was a complete departure from anything I'd written before. To that point, not only had everything been Obitine, but also in-universe AND all part of the same series [Even if You Wanted to]— the same story I'd been telling every week for almost a year.

I had just finished a fic that, if I'm being honest, really fucked me up [Bound and Broken]. I love this story so much, I'm so proud of it, but FUCK did it put me in a bad place. I needed something light and unserious and this silly Broadway AU was just looping through my mind and I decided to go for it.

While writing Resolute, something — I don't know — something happened. Something changed as far as how I was thinking about the stories I could write.

Instead of always thinking about what came next in an ongoing story, and holding myself to someone else's plot points, I was thinking about entirely different worlds.

Basically, I realized I could write anything.

That's when Haunted Heart happened and it just sort of blew the doors off my brain.

I owe a lot of this change in perspective to fellow writers like @yourfavoritefridge and @palfriendpatine66 whose continued support and encouragement have pushed me to write a lot of things am deeply proud of and would never have had the courage to write without them cheering me on.

IN SUMMARY

I would say it was less of a shift from Obitine to Obikin, and more a shift from one long canon-compliant story, to… whatever the fuck I wanted to write?

That being said, let's address the Obikin of it all.

I think it has way more to do with the dynamic than any actual shipping or subtext. As I said earlier, the Obitine dynamic is based on respect. But Obikin? That's something a lot closer to obsession.

There's something about the unhinged nature of their dynamic that tickles my brain in a specific way that I can't quite explain?

​​And, I'll be honest— the popularity of the Obikin ship certainly doesn't hurt, but I think what's more important is that the community is SO supportive. There is so little pressure or expectation, with a real emphasis on writing what you want. Like I said, the kudos and comments are great, but— I can write a fic that’s basically just a rant about AI, or a weird smutty first-person dissociative thriller, or a story about Obi-Wan literally fucking himself and I know it will be met with nothing but positive energy and encouragement. That’s something that keeps me coming back to Obikin.

Clearly, I still love Satine, she's shown up in my AUs here and there and I always enjoy having her around. I really love including her as someone Obi-Wan feels safe with. A friend he knows will always shoot him straight and always be there for him.

I’m sure I’ll write more Obitine when the right idea appears in my mind, but right now, I’m just chasing stories.

x