#michael keaton fanfiction

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: swearing, Beetlejuice

“killing children is illegal right?” I asked as I slammed the door. Beetlejuice appeared with a pop. He looked at me for a second before pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“I mean are we talking your own or someone else’s?” He asked, flopping on the couch. “Because if we’re talking your own, we’re gonna have to get to work on that first.” Beetlejuice grabbed his crotch and squeezed, raising his eyebrows seductively at me. I rolled my eyes and smacked his shoulder.

”don’t make me send you back.” I pointed a finger at him. Beetlejuice held up his hands in surrender.

“alright. Alright.” He said. “But unfortunately yeah it is. Why?”

“why?” I asked with a laugh. “Did you not see what happened? I know you were there. They destroyed the display. They scared the scare actors. And I swear to god one of them had a real knife!” Beetlejuice nodded with a frown. “If that doesn’t warrant it then I don’t know what does!”

“honey…don’t get mad…” Beetlejuice said, getting up and holding his hands up again. “But I think you should take a nap. Maybe things will be better later.” I sighed and rubbed my forehead.

“I can’t beej.” I shook my head. “I have to fix the display and…”

“hey. Leave it to me.” Beetlejuice put his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll take care of it. Make a few calls.” Beetlejuice kissed me softly, making me hold onto his shirt slightly. “Trust me.”

“I guess I could…” I said, brushing my hand through his hair.

“good. Good. Good.” He muttered. “I got this babe. Call in the finest contractors the underworld can offer.” I nodded as I headed off to bed. The next morning, I woke up to Beetlejuice sprawled out on top of me.

"Beej." I groaned as I climbed out from under him. He jolted awake and blinked at me sleepily.

"Wha?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and turning to snuggle into the pillow more. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to stop suffocating me in my sleep." I teased, poking his ass as I headed into the bathroom. "What time did you get in last night?" There wasn't a reply so I assumed he went back to sleep. Shrugging to myself, I quickly showered and went to the kitchen to grab something to eat. "Shit." I muttered when Beetlejuice looked up at me from his spot at the table. "Warn a person why don't you." I mumbled as I went about making myself breakfast. Beetlejuice slid a cup of coffee over to me with a small smile.

"What are you doing today?" He asked, sipping his own coffee. "Aside from me of course." I rolled my eyes as he chuckled at his own joke.

"Checking on the display. Seeing where you left off and finishing putting it back together." I shrugged. "Why? Did you have something planned?" Beetlejuice shook his head.

"When did you want to go?" He asked, voice surprisingly soft.

"How about after we eat?" I asked. Beetlejuice nodded, getting up and kissing me softly. "What has gotten into you today?" I laughed as he sat in my lap. He shrugged, smiling at me.

"Aside from the fact I'm dating the most wonderful breather ever?" He asked. I smiled at him and cupped his cheek. Beetlejuice kissed my palm. "I think I have a new appreciation for you after working most of the night to get the display back up. All the work you put into it. All the work you are still putting into it with the scare actors. All of it."

"Oh." I felt my cheeks heat up at that. "Well...I mean..." Beetlejuice kissed me.

"Don't sell yourself short sweetheart." He whispered. "You did a lot of good work and you deserve the praise." I nodded, accepting that he would keep going until I let it go. We ate breakfast like that, Beetlejuice sitting in my lap and trying to make me laugh so hard milk came out of my nose. He nearly succeeded but stopped when I gently shoved him off my lap. Beetlejuice snapped his fingers and the dishes were done. I stood up as he popped over to the bedroom. "Hurry up and get dressed. I wanna show you what I did." He rocked on his heels as he waited for me to get dressed. When I finally exited the bedroom, he took my arm and transported us to the display.

"I still hate that." I mumbled as I grabbed his arm to try to steady myself. "Always makes me feel weird." I shook my head to try to fix whatever it was I was feeling. Beetlejuice chuckled before covering my eyes. "Ah man! Come on Beej! I'm already unsteady and now you wanna do this crap?" I was slowly walked further into the park before he lifted his hands.

"Ok. Now look." I opened my eyes and my jaw dropped. "I know it isn't exactly the same but..." I turned around and grabbed his tie, pulling his towards me. Beetlejuice squeaked before his hands settled on my hips. I kissed him as hard as I could, trying to put all the raging emotions I was feeling into it.

"Fuck me Beej." I breathed out when I pulled away. Beetlejuice gave me a shit eating grin and a wink before turning to look at the display. "I love it. I can't wait to show everyone." He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and smiled.

"Yeah? You really like it?" He asked, voice going soft at the end.

"It's amazing Beej." I breathed out. "Now give me a tour." He nodded happily before leading me around the work he had done.

[the--blackdahlia]

Wild Horses (Beetlejuice x Reader)

Title: Wild Horses

Summary: Lydia keeps summoning Beetlejuice away from (Y/n) right when they get to the good part. He wants to know why.

Warning: Hinted sexual content, body image issues

“Mmm babes, you smell delicious,” Beetlejuice started kissing behind (y/n)’s ear, smirking at the reaction he was getting from her. They were both on her bed, where they had been listening to music and talking, but now, Beetlejuice had other things in mind.

“Beej, the door’s open,” (Y/n) was trying to find an excuse to get him to stop. She wanted to go on, she really liked him, but insecurities had a tendency to get the best of her. Beetlejuice snapped his fingers and the door shut, the loud creaking of the hinges echoing down the hall.

“There, that’s taken care of,” He went back to kissing (Y/n)’s neck.

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!” He heard Lydia summon him. With a loud groan, he left (Y/n)’s side and appeared in the dining room, where Lydia, Barbara, and Adam were set around the table.

“What is so fucking important?!” He snapped.

“We need a fourth for cards. Matilda’s at work.” Beetlejuice stood there for a second, just staring at her. She swore she could see the red spreading across his ashy skin.

“YOU FUCKING SUMMONED ME TO PLAY CARDS?!” He exploded, and the Maitlands could practically see smoke coming out of his ears.

“Yes I did. Now come sit,” Lydia was calm, used to Beetlejuice’s tantrums. She had even set up a little corner in a couple of the rooms for him to throw tantrums in. Matilda had even made signs for them during craft night at the library. Beetlejuice grumbled but took a seat across from Lydia.

“Five card stud? Texas Hold ‘Em? Stripping?” Beetlejuice wiggled his eyebrows.

“We’re playing Spades,” Barbara smiled at him, and Beetlejuice groaned.

“You pulled me away from a fucking sexy woman…to play Spades?”

“Yep. Adam’s dealer first,” Lydia gave Beetlejuice a shit-eating grin. Beetlejuice let out the most annoyed groan before picking up his cards to play the game.

****

That’s how things went over the next few weeks. Every time Beetlejuice started to get intimate, Matilda or Lydia would summon him away from (Y/n). It was really starting to annoy him, especially when he would go back to pick up where he left off and (Y/n) would be asleep or otherwise preoccupied.

Finally, after Lydia pulled him away to go have lunch with Matilda, he just about had enough.

“Why do you keep doing this shit to me Lyds?” He grumbled as the three sat in the parking lot of the Subway close to their house.

“Can’t I just spend time with my friend?” She sounded so innocent, but he knew there was something deeper behind her words.

“You never wanted to do that all the time until I got with (Y/n). So what’s up?” Matilda and Lydia looked at each other.

“Maybe we should tell him,” Matilda took a bite of her Miss Vickie’s.

“Okay, okay,” Lydia took a drink before turning to look at Beetlejuice. “(Y/n) hates the way her body looks. And she’s worried that you’ll find her repulsive.”

“...She does realize I’m a dead guy, right?” Beetlejuice looked at Lydia and Matilda like they had two heads. “I mean, she would legit be fucking a zombie pretty much.”

“Gross,” Matilda commented, making Beetlejuice roll his eyes.

“That’s it. I’ve got to fix this,” Beetlejuice had a look in his eye as ideas came pouring in. He knew what he needed to do.

****

“I’m home!” (Y/n) called out, carrying groceries in. “Hello?” The house was eerily silent. (Y/n) looked at the fridge and saw a note from Lydia.

‘Date night with Matilda. Be back late. -Lydia’

“Hmmm, okay,” She worked on putting groceries away. “Beej, you home?” She called out but didn’t hear him. She sighed and grabbed the drink she had bought herself and headed up the stairs to her room to read and relax.

Upon approaching her door, she could hear what sounded to be the Rolling Stones playing. Pushing open the door, she saw Beetlejuice sitting on her bed, guitar in hand, with dead flowers surrounding him. He was singing, but it sounded more like Mick Jagger than him.

“Wild horses. Couldn't drag me away. Wild, wild horses. Couldn't drag me away,” Beetlejuice sang to (Y/n). She sat her drink on her desk and walked towards him. He stopped playing when she saw by him.

“What’s all this about?” She picked up one of the dying daises and slipped it on top of her ear.

“I thought it’d be…romantic?” He couldn’t stop staring at her. “You’re beautiful.”

“Beej…”

“Nope. No arguing with me. I mean,” The guitar disappeared as he stood up. “I’m literally a dead guy. And you are the most beautiful breather I’ve ever seen.”

“Guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree on this one,” (Y/n) was suddenly taken aback when Beetlejuice took her face in his hands.

“We’re not leaving this room until I prove to you that you are beautiful,” He got a wicked smile on his face. “And babe, I can go all night.”

[itsawritblr]

OK . . . about this . . .

For the Beetlejuice fans who still Follow me.

I've said before that I'm biting my nails that Burton's trailers are showing us content that he's cut from the final film (this happened A LOT with Dumbo. The trailers were better than the movie.) I've worried that the sequel will be less Shippy than it seems right now.

However . . .

I've heard from some that the sequel -- and don't quote me on this -- is Burton's reply to the musical.

Tim Burton had absolutely nothing to do with the musical (unlike the animated series, which he helped with and even supervised a lot of). He doesn't own the rights to Beetlejuice; Warner Brothers does. So WB hired playwrights who had their own agendas.

Friends of mine, actors and other creatives who regularly work on Broadway, say that, despite the producers' and actors' begging (particularly Brightman), both Burton and Michael Keaton refused to see the musical. Word was they hated how the story was rewritten, especially Beej.

I was told that if the sequel seems determined to make Beej x Lyds canon, it's very intentional. That Tim Burton and Michael Keaton "want to set the record straight."

And it may be that some fanfic reading was involved at some point. Maybe.

[rtfics]

My Beetlejuice fics.

For those who asked, on and off of tumblr.

They're a mixture of the Beetlejuice cartoon and the movie. One is strictly the movie. Most are explicit. Check the tags.

All are for Beetlebabes, so if you don't Ship Beej and Lyds these aren't for you.

They go in three arcs (but of course you can read them in any order):

Fics about Beej & Lyds meeting and getting to know each other.

Falling In Loathe: How Beetlejuice and Lydia Met. I confess this is my favorite. Here's an illustration I did for the opening scene in Chapter 1.

The First Of Many.

The King of Sin.

2. Fics about how they became lovers.

Coming of Age. And Coming of Age: The Alternate, Explicit Ending. And some art I did for it.

Homework. This is an alternate version of "Coming of Age," so some of the elements from that are re-imagined here.

Jingle Juice (or) Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood. This is a Christmas-themed comic I wrote and drew, based on a disco song. Seriously.

3. Mostly humor, about Beej & Lyds as a couple.

A Beetlejuice & Lydia Valentine. My second favorite fic.

School Visit.

House Call.

Flashback. Some fantastic art done by an anonymous reader (thanks again, whoever you are).

Blind Date.

Nature Lovers.

Guy Talk.

And one Movieverse fic:

Beetlejuice Is NOT the Bad Guy.

Enjoy.

[royalwhumpness]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice - Reimagined [Fanfic]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice didn’t quite live up to my expectations. I was disappointed by some of the creative choices, particularly in how certain characters were portrayed and the story direction. This fic is my re-imagining of the movie, reflecting how I feel the characters and story could have been better developed. ’ve removed the fiancée/manager character entirely. I found him unnecessary, and his execution felt lacking. The overuse of mental health terms to villainize him and, by extension, the mental health movement, struck me as lazy and problematic. While his manipulative nature was meant to control Lydia, there was no positive representation to counterbalance his portrayal, leaving the audience with little context for his misuse. Instead, these issues were treated as punchlines, which, in my opinion, trivialized the subject matter. In my version, Betelgeuse’s ex is introduced more subtly, with hints of her greater role as the main antagonist in a potential third installment: Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetljuice. Her character was completely underutilized in the film, and I felt she was given one of the most anticlimactic ends for any villain. Bob is not in this story. I’ve slightly re-imagined the detective, a character with a lot of untapped potential. On the other hand, Jeremy was the standout character for me and should have been the central antagonist. I’ve developed his relationship with Astrid more deeply, creating a stronger emotional impact leading up to his betrayal. Astrid, in my version, is a more realistic teenager—not the stereotypical brat she was in the movie. She and Lydia have a complex relationship, which, while strained, is more balanced. (Let’s not forget that Lydia herself was once a moody, gothic teen. She had personality, moped around, and resented her stepmother, but her characterization felt more nuanced and authentic than Astrid’s does here.) I was also disappointed by Delia’s treatment in the sequel—she felt like a mere caricature of her original self, and I believe she deserved much more. As for Betelgeuse, he went from being an outcast in the first film—someone you were warned against—to having an office and a legitimate business? That felt completely out of place. Much like Delia, he seemed like a caricature of his former self, and he’s significantly overpowered in this version. I’ve returned him to the chaotic, outcast anti-hero we all know. If you enjoyed the movie, that’s great—everyone has different tastes, and I respect that. But I hope you’ll give this version a chance and maybe find something to enjoy here too. If, like me, you were left wanting more from the sequel, perhaps this re-imagining will help scratch that itch. It’s been a cathartic project for me, and I hope you enjoy the read.

You can visit my AO3 if you'd like instead of reading here! Kudos would be much appreciated <3

PART ONE

“I can’t believe he survived that crash,” Lydia said, kneeling beside Delia and her daughter Astrid in front of her father’s gravestone. His likeness was etched into a chunk of stone shaped like a shark’s fin. Under the portrait, the inscription read:

Charles Deetz Husband, Father, Grandfather Peace Embraces the Dead Ones 1946-2024.

“Yes, well, I can’t believe that dreadful shark has his head in its belly.” Delia replied wryly, dabbing her eyes with a black handkerchief.

Silence hung in the air until Delia broke it with a sharp, ill-timed squawk: “Welp!” She slapped her knees and stood up abruptly. “Time to sell the house.” Lydia’s mouth fell open as Delia walked away, and after a brief moment of shock, she scrambled to chase after her. “Sell? Wha-why? You can’t, I-“ Lydia stammered. Delia silenced her with a raised, gloved hand. “Lydia, I’ve tried dressing this house in as much metaphorical gold as possible, but it’s still painfully clear that it is shit.” She lowered her hand, “I only stayed because your father loved it, but now I can finally rid myself of its stench. Not to mention that it is now an ugly reminder that my husband is no longer here.” With that, she stormed off, leaving Lydia frozen, watching her retreat. Every fragment of her life she held dear seemed to slip through her fingers, and with each heartbreak, the weight of grief grew heavier. She started bracing herself beneath the looming shadow of yet another impending loss.

Astrid came to stand beside her mom, gently placing a hand on her arm. Lydia glanced down at her daughter, and for a moment, she marveled at the beauty she had brought into the world. She saw herself in Astrid’s smile, but her inky black eyes, high and rounded cheekbones, and even her cute, small ears were all her father’s. At 15, Astrid had endured more than her fair share of losses. For years now, it had been just her and Lydia. Before she turned four, her grandparents had been a constant presence, always nearby. Then one day, with arms full of suitcases, they drove off, their car shrinking into the bright summer horizon. Only her grandfather reappeared from time to time, sitting with her to watch the birds while her mother tended to grieving clients. And instead of growing up surrounded by the warm, steadfast presence of her father, Astrid and Lydia had to confront his absence, mourning him when she was barely seven. Lydia placed her hand gently over Astrid’s. “I’m not going to let her sell the house.” Astrid remained silent, but she didn’t need to say anything. Astrid had never shown any affection for the house or its bygone charm. She had never known its vibrant, ghost-filled days. The town was small, and Astrid had eagerly accepted the chance to go to boarding school when she started her freshman year. To Astrid, this place, steeped in Lydia’s memories, was just a house. Instead, Astrid extended a soft, comforting smile before quietly following Delia’s path.

A little while later, Lydia found Delia in Charles’ office, researching how to list the house for sale and how soon after a death it could be done. “Delia, you don’t even live here anymore. I live here, and Astrid lives here. Doesn’t that mean something?” Without looking up from her screen, Delia replied, “You live here. Astrid goes to boarding school.” Lydia just stared. Where there should have been a beating, pulsing red glob of muscle in Delia’s chest, Lydia saw a yawning, gaping void. She watched as it seemed to draw in and distort the light around it, bending and warping everything towards its dark, insatiable center. Noticing the silence, Delia looked up. “Why are you so determined to stay? The Maitlands have moved on, Astrid is rarely home, and your ex-husband and father are both gone. I don’t see-“ She paused, her gaze meeting Lydia’s. The expression on Lydia’s face made her feel foolish. “I’m making an ass of myself, aren’t I?” Lydia responded with a slow, exaggerated nod, her eyes widening and lips pursed as if to underscore the obviousness of the answer. “I have a business here,” Lydia said quietly, “and memories.” Delia’s face softened. Lydia could see that her usual scowl had melted into something of a motherly expression of genuine compassion and sympathy. “Oh, Lydia.” She rose from her chair and approached her, reaching out to gently touch her face. “We’ve never really gotten along, have we? But you’re still my daughter, and we only have each other now.” “Then why are you uprooting my whole life right now?” Delia had no answer. She hadn’t lived in the house for over a decade. She and Charles had bought a condo in New York, allowing her to pursue her artistic endeavors and escape the ghost house. Charles would often travel back and forth, spending months at a time with Lydia and Astrid to indulge in his seasonal bird watching hobby. Meanwhile, Lydia remained behind, raising Astrid, supporting the house with her psychic business, and keeping Charles company during his visits.

“Alright,” Delia began, “I’m going to wait. But I still intend to sell the house.” Lydia started to interrupt, but Delia raised the same gloved hand to silence her. “I’m going to sell it eventually. But I’m not doing this out of spite. I want you to have the chance to move on, Lydia. I’m giving you a year.” Lydia sighed, lowering her gaze. A year might as well have been next week. The pause stretched long. An overwhelming urge to argue or plead spread through her bones and soaked into her throat, but she swallowed it down, managing a quiet, “Thank you,” paired with a soft, sullen smile. Delia’s expression brightened, and she gave Lydia’s nose a playful boop before leaving the office.

Astrid found her mom sulking on the couch, playing with her wedding ring. “You haven’t worn that in forever,” she said, sitting beside her and resting her head on her shoulder. Lydia returned the gesture, gently resting her own head on Astrid’s. She showed Astrid the ring and the inscription inside: ‘I will be with you, always.’ “Why can’t you see him, Mom?” Astrid asked softly. “I wish I knew, Astrid. Why can’t you?” Astrid lifted her head abruptly and shifted towards the edge of the couch, as if preparing to leave. Lydia, sensing Astrid’s frustration, said, “You can see them.” “So you say, but I have never seen one.” “You saw one when…“ “That I remember,” Astrid interrupted, cutting Lydia off before she could remind her, yet again, of the ghost she saw when she was four. It had been just over ten years since then, and she hadn’t seen one since.

“I’m going to ride my bike around town. I’ll see you later.” Astrid said. Lydia reached out to lovingly rub Astrid’s back before she left. “Okay. Be safe.” Astrid gave a slight smile and stood up. She often felt frustrated whenever her mom brought up her ability, or inability, to see ghosts. Thoughts swirled in her mind: Why can’t I see them? Am I not good enough? Are they even real? Would my mom really lie about something like this? She found it best to distance herself in these moments to avoid lashing out at her.

It had happened once before. Lydia was attempting to teach Astrid how to see ghosts, despite not fully understanding her own abilities. Frustrated by her failures regardless of her mother’s guidance, Astrid snapped. She accused her mother of being a fraud, claiming her psychic abilities were fake and that her business cheated clients out of their money. Astrid instantly regretted her harsh words. Though she didn’t see her mother’s reaction, she sensed it— the subtle shift—and prepared herself for what felt like the beginning of a strained relationship. It became routine then that at the first sign of rising anger or frustration, Astrid would remove herself from the situation to avoid confronting it altogether.

Astrid walked out the front door without a backward glance. Lately, her words had grown fewer, the once-eager stories about her day fading into silence. She barely met Lydia’s eyes anymore, and though small gestures of affection remained, the growing distance was unmistakable. Lydia’s heart ached as she watched her daughter go. Rising from the couch, she looked around the empty house. It was now haunted not by spirits, but by the echoes of a time when it was alive with the Maitlands’ presence and her family’s warm company. Longing to reclaim those cherished moments, she wandered through the house. Her eyes settled on her room, and a deep wave of sentimentality washed over her. An irresistible pull drew her toward the attic, driven by a quiet hope that revisiting the past might help her reconnect with what had been lost.

In her room, Lydia pulled out a small drawer from her jewelry box and carefully took out the old, familiar skeleton key. She smiled at it wistfully before heading for the attic. The stairs were draped in cobwebs and spider silk, hinting at years of neglect. Lydia unlocked the attic door and, after a struggle to unstick it, pushed it open and stepped inside. Waves of familiarity and longing enveloped her. Everything was covered in thick sheets and layers upon layers of dust undisturbed on top. It was clear that neither Lydia nor any other Deetz had ventured into this attic in years. She pulled the sheet off the town model and flicked on the switch. The model illuminated, instantly rekindling its old charm and wonder. Lydia leaned on the table, taking in the intricate details of the small buildings she hadn’t seen since before Astrid was born.

“Oh, I miss you so much,” Lydia said with a sigh. “I wish you had never moved on. We could have stayed a family, even in death.” She spoke aloud with the same reverence and cadence as one might when addressing an unseen deity. Speaking with the departed had always come easily to her—unless they had crossed beyond the reach of the afterlife. At that point, she was merely talking to herself. She knew they couldn’t hear her, but she needed to talk to them anyway. She lowered her head. “Why did you leave me?” She poked absentmindedly at a red toy car in a miniature driveway. “I wish you could have met Astrid. She would have loved you both.” She saw visions of Astrid coming home with her class drawings, eagerly showing them off to the Maitlands. She wanted Astrid to experience the joy she felt when they used their silly ghost powers. “You barely knew Richard before you were given your ticket to the Ethereal Express. Gone forever. And now Richard is gone, too. I can’t even see his spirit. My father is gone, my daughter is unreachable, and Delia is going to sell the house.” Lydia rested her head lightly on the table. She could feel the emotions bubbling up in her eyes, but she wasn’t willing to cry just yet.

She straightened up, sniffling back her tears and swallowing the sob in her throat. She lingered for a moment in silence, watching the dust particles swirl around the model town. Her gaze, initially soft, allowing herself to be at ease watching everything blur, suddenly sharpened. A vivid neon red light flickered on in the model, casting eerie patterns across her face. A soundless gasp escaped her as she saw Betelgeuse’s gravestone had materialized, and above it, a marquee sign surrounded by bulbs flashing in a captivating chase illuminated the words: "I'm still here, Lydia." Panicked, Lydia yanked a sheet over the model, turned off the lights, and rushed out of the attic, locking the door behind her before bolting down the stairs.

[mrcjprice193]

the most interesting character (for me) in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is Richard...

merely on HOW DID HE BAG LYDIA? yeah sure he's into horror movies and big into the environment (I'm not sure if anybody caught that subtle reference to how her love interest in Beetlejuice goes Hawaiian) but that's it? I kinda wanted more about him it feels like a weird subplot that comes and goes...

another thing he kinda of looked too. idk how to say this without sounding mean normal? he's very conventionally attractive. yeah he played a musketeer of course he is but idk. I feel like someone who would've fit the role better is a Benicio del Toro type or maybe the actor himself. he 100% would play the role of a "weirdo" who would obsess over horror movies and dress his kid in morbid halloween costumes. lol

he even looks like Jenna Ortega a bit too. ESPECIALLY when he was younger!

maybe it's just me... lol

[laszlovz]

Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz, Explicit, 4.8k words, post-canon

Lydia can't sleep and Betelgeuse puts himself up to the task of helping her relax.

[elizabethcrumb]

'Raven' Chapter 6 - final Chapter.

Link: Raven - Chapter 6 - LizRenKnight, LuluJozeenovak - Beetlejuice (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

Title & Summary: Chapter 6: Acceptance, (Astrid has to come to a big decision.) (Photo edit Graphic art by me. :))

@lanibb @afterthefuneral @yaztheangel @itsaship-literally @freshlyjuicedbeetles @sad-puppet-show @fanfic-she-wrote @polgara6 @bd-z

[liquidloz]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Desperate Measures (1998) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Peter McCabe/Reader Characters: Peter McCabe, Reader Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Gun Fucking, Bad Guy Kink, Villain Kink, no beta we die like men Summary:

Peter McCabe wants the cyclopropane, and something else… (Peter McCabe x Reader fic where the reader is in place of Dr Hawkins)

I haven’t written for 13 years (eek) since the days of livejournal - ha what a throwback 😂 so sorry if this is garbage but I can’t get this man out of my head.

inspired by @the--blackdahlia​

[theone-andonly-alexpkeaton]

Hey, so I've currently started a fanfiction based off of a super old roleplay I did like ten or eleven years ago.

It's a Back to the Future/Family Ties crossover.

I didn't want to post it on here until I got a good dent in, so considering I just posted the tenth chapter today, I guess I'll share it here 😊

It's titled The Power of Love and my username is michie1997, I've got it over on ao3

[addie-sanchez]

Hi, Addie. Want to say that I really like your blog. And I'm also a fan of Beetlejuice and a shipper of Beetlejuice and Lydia. Have you heard the news about a possible Beetlejuice sequel with Jenna Ortega? What do you think about it? Personally, I hope for a preserved atmosphere and BeetleBabes moments. And I don't know yet if I want to see Ortega there, although I liked her Wednesday.

Hi! Thank you for the ask, it's my first time hehe ❤️

Honestly, I'm not sure how I feel about Jenna in the series as it's possible she will be playing daughter of Lydia, that means there won't be any betelbabes moments I'm afraid.

Also I haven't watched Wednesday.

I have no idea how they want to move forward with the series, I hope it will be at least good. I will watch it for sure just for Michael Keaton, I'm sure he'll be amazing as always.

Although, I think betelbabes never will be canon in a movie, so all we have left are awesome ffs!

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: slight sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), swearing, saying the wrong name during sex, Beetlejuice

AN: I know I'm a day late but this works out anyway so Happy (late) 73rd Birthday Michael Keaton!

I panted as VA thrust into me, head buried in my neck as he kissed and sucks along the skin there.

“(Y/N).” He moaned as I tilted my head back. VA ground against me as he pulled back to look at me. “I’m gonna cum. Cum for me. You need to cum first.” I nodded as he thrust hard into me.

“Beetlejuice!” I screamed as I came. VA grunted as he came, collapsing on me as his arms gave out. “Oh fuck VA.” I breathed out as he kissed his way to my lips. “That was…that was…” he hummed against my lips.

“yeah that was.” He chuckled, pulling out and moving to my side. VA pulled me into his arms, making sure to put my head on his chest. I hummed happily as I traced circles over his heart. “Who was that you were calling out for?” VA was looking over in the corner, smirking slightly.

"shit." I muttered. "Look. I'm sorry I said my ex's name during sex." VA hummed and rubbed my back.

"Three times." VA said. I pulled back to look up at him.

"Three times?" I asked, eyebrows shooting up. VA nodded, gently turning me so I could see who was sitting in the corner.

"Three times." Beetlejuice said, smirking at me. "Hi sweets. Long time no see." I gasped and jumped back, hitting VA in the chest. VA chuckled as he wrapped his arms around my waist. "I gotta say when you left me, I didn't think you'd shack up with someone who looks like me. Let alone me when I was living. Let alone you'd shack up with the living." I rolled my eyes.

"Come on Juice." I groaned. "Get outta here."

"Why should I?" He asked, getting up and sitting on the edge of the bed. "I get a free show and I get to see the love of my life again." He laid down, head dangerously close to my legs. "Come on sweets. Give me another chance. What do ya say?" I shoved him away with my foot.

"What do I say?" I asked. Beetlejuice nodded. "I say..." Beetlejuice's smile grew and VA smirked at me before kissing my head. "Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice!" Beetlejuice disappeared with a pop and VA pulled me back to his chest. "Next time you catch me saying that, stop me." I said as I reached up to run my fingers through VA's hair.

"I'll do my best." He chuckled. "But you have to admit, he is kind of fun."

"Wait...how long was he watching?" I asked, horror creeping over my face. VA just laughed before rolling back on top of me for another round.

[the--blackdahlia]

Storytime (Beetlejuice x Reader)

Title: Storytime

Summary: From this prompt list: #8 Ah, unrequited love. When your best isn’t enough. and #13: You aren’t really a good person, but god damn, you make bad look awesome.

Warnings: None

Beetlejuice was sunbathing on the roof of what was the town hall. Well, not really sunbathing, and the town hall was one of Adam’s models. He mainly liked to lay there and spy on you as you did things around the attic. He also liked watching what you were doing, even when he was the size of a Micro Machine. Today, you were sitting on that ugly couch, reading a book. A breeze blew through the attic. You hung up there when the Maitland’s and the Deetz’s were doing things downstairs. Despite being welcomed into their home, you just never felt you belonged.

Maybe that’s what the ghost with the most was attracted to. You were a loner, just like him.

“What are you reading?” He spoke up from his place on top of the building. Though his voice was small, you could still hear him.

“The Great Gatsby,” You replied, not even shocked by his presence anymore.

“Ah, unrequited love,” He chuckled a little, sitting up to watch you. “When your best isn’t enough.”

“You know that’s not what this book is about, right?”

“Isn’t it though?”

You put a bookmark in your book before going over to the model. You sat so you could see him. Book discussions with him were actually quite enjoyable. While he hadn’t read many of the more modern titles, he could talk for hours about old classics. And you really didn’t mind listening to him drone on and on about what Steinbeck was actually talking about.

“Well, I know that’s a theme, but isn’t the whole thing about consumerism in the 1920s? How status can be easily gained or lost?”

“All I know babes, is that Fitz put a lot of work into it and was upset when it flopped.”

“You knew F. Scott Fitzgerald?”

“I’ve been around 600 years. I think the list of people I’ve met would easily fill this house,” He looked so smug about it. You never knew if his stories were real or not, but he was a good storyteller anyway.

“Well, why don’t you tell me more?”

“Hmm, let’s see. Met Dillenger and Capone. Typhoid Mary was a wild girl. John Wilkes Booth had a screw or two loose.”

“You aren’t really a good person, but god damn, you make bad look awesome,” You watched his smile get bigger.

“Aww babes, you flatter me,” He stood up. “Why don’t you say my name? We could discuss more. I could tell you stories until you fall asleep.” He watched you ponder it for a bit before you smiled at him.

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice,” He lit up and clapped his hands.

“It’s showtime!”

[itsawritblr]

For Michael Keaton fans.

Pushing my fanfic

Baby, Mine on AO3.

When he came to The Medici Family Circus seeking the truth about a flying baby elephant, tycoon and impresario V.A. Vandevere had no idea he'd become fascinated with its trainer, 18-year-old Milly Farrier, an obsession he doesn't welcome. Milly, determined to go against her father's wishes and become a scientist, is equally struck by the smooth, suave, cunning owner of Dreamland, but doesn't trust him. And rightfully so. Neither wants to give the other the upper hand, but both need each other to secure their futures by making Dumbo a sensation. If lust doesn't get in the way. This is another version of the 2019 film, so many of the film's events happen in this, though changed. It's NOT an RPF: This is based on the characters, NOT the actors who play them.

[rtfics]

OMFG, Beetlebabes, I have so many ideas for a Beetlejuice Beetlejuice fanfic that takes place immediately after the events of the sequel that my brain won't shut up . . . .

[royalwhumpness]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice - Reimagined [Fanfic Chapter 2]

Frustrated with her mom, again, Astrid hops on her bike and sets off around town. She'd done this countless times before--it has always been her go-to way to find some peace or make sense of everything going on.

If you'd like to read this or the first chapter on AO3 you can go here!

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice didn’t quite live up to my expectations. I was disappointed by some of the creative choices, particularly in how certain characters were portrayed and the story direction. This fic is my re-imagining of the movie, reflecting how I feel the characters and story could have been better developed.

Foreword: I wanted to mention the tone of the story. You might be thinking, "GoldenOra (or royalwhumpness on tumblr), this isn't funny, Beetlejuice is a comedy." And you're right. But! My rebuttal is to ask you to be patient.

These are establishing chapters, and I want to give the sequel everything I felt the movie deserved. If you read the script of the first film without hearing the dialogue or seeing the visuals, it wouldn't come across as funny either at first. Beetlejuice was not really a laugh-out-loud movie (of course it had its moments). The humor comes from how the lines are delivered, how the scenes are framed, and the characters' costumes--those elements are what made the original so comical.

WARNING: The NOTE after the chapter has some spoilers if you've never seen the movie.

---

Astrid paused at the foot of the hill, her eyes drifting towards the town’s entrance, framed by the familiar bridge. She’d crossed it countless times, but today, everything seemed washed out—the colors of the day and the buildings dull and lifeless. The town square just beyond barely expanded, with only a few residential streets fanning out. She and her bike had explored nearly every road, sidewalk, and public lawn in this place.    Her tires rumbled over the bridge. The roads on the other side she could ride blindfolded—if not for the occasional car or passerby. At least here, she could lose herself, drifting into her thoughts and daydreams as she pedaled.

   Before she moved away, she used to ride through the small town, thrilled to say goodbye to the old buildings. Bigger things were waiting, and she looked forward to the day when her old life would shrink into the distance behind her. But boarding school wasn’t as grand as she’d pictured. No antique wooden walls, the floors weren’t speckled stone, and the library was far from magical. “Well, this isn’t Europe,” she mused, offering herself a small excuse for the disappointment—just a regular building with linoleum floors, fluorescent lights, and plaster walls.

   Her bike sped through the town center, up a small hill, onto a quiet residential street. It was far enough from home that she could pretend, even for a moment, that it was somewhere else entirely.

   Despite the plainness of the school, she still managed to bury her nose in academic and fiction books alike, but she mostly kept to her room. Her roommate was friendly enough, though they rarely saw each other. Astrid was surprised to find that most of the students were pretty nice. Back in her small town, her family had always stood out. She’d taken after her mom, wearing darker clothes, and often borrowed or was gifted eccentric pieces from her grandma’s closet. While the locals back home would occasionally give her stares or glares—though they should’ve been used to it by now—no one at boarding school seemed to care. This time, it was Astrid who found herself staring at students sporting mohawks and leather jackets with spikes.

   Finally on the residential street, Astrid passed by quaint houses untouched by corporate sameness, each one displaying its own varied and charming architecture. Some lawns boasted lush gardens, while others had neatly trimmed grass with swing sets, lawn chairs, or empty above-ground pools.    Her effort to climb the incline paid off as she reached the top of the hill. This was her favorite part—racing downhill. She paused for a moment, just as she did at the bottom of the hill near her own home, and took in the new view. A brief sense of gratitude washed over her that she hadn’t grown up in a big city. As she began her descent, one or two pedals were all she needed before gravity took over, pulling her effortlessly toward the bottom.    The wind grew harsher as she picked up speed, drying out her eyes. For a fleeting moment, she considered closing them and letting whatever happened, happen, but not wanting to test fate, she blinked, trying to coax tears back into them. The world flickered from blurry to black and back again as she did, making her miss the open manhole directly in her path. At the last second, she spotted the dark void in the street and swerved sharply, her bike veering off into a new route, slipping between houses and into someone’s backyard. She crashed into a tree, her head smacking against its rough bark, and everything went black.

   “Hey, can you hear me? You awake? Ah, she probably can’t hear me.”    The voice echoed in her skull, bouncing around like a stray thought. She could’ve sworn she also heard church bells, though it might have just been the warning sign of an oncoming migraine. Slowly, she opened her eyes, only for the sunlight to pierce through her pupils, setting her brain on fire.    “Ah.” She covered her eyes with her hands.    “Okay, so she’s awake. Can she hear me? Hello? Can you hear me? Probably not.”    Peeking through her fingers, Astrid saw the tree she’d crashed into—and an old treehouse nestled in its branches. A teenage boy, about her age, maybe a little older, was leaning out from the doorway, checking on her.    “Sorry…” she muttered, moving her hands to shield her eyes again. “Sorry I crashed into your tree. I just need a minute.”    “Holy shit,” he exclaimed, sounding genuinely shocked. The treehouse creaked as its ladder rattled beneath him, and he climbed down quickly.    “Hey, it’s cool. Just take your time,” he said, now standing beside her. “You really hit your head hard. You probably have a concussion.”

   Astrid sat up slowly, moving her hands from her eyes to her forehead. She winced as her fingers brushed the bruise just above her hairline. Now that her vision had cleared, she could finally see who she was talking to.    He was cute. Tall and lanky, with soft reddish-brown hair that puffed up, defying gravity. His large hazel eyes were gentle and kind.    “I think I’ll be okay,” she said, offering a small smile. “I’m Astrid. Sorry again for crashing into your yard…and then your tree.”    He laughed. “I’m Jeremy. No, it’s really ok.” He looked at her with genuine interest. “It’s really nice to meet you. Where’re you from?”    “From here,” she replied, pointing toward the hill that loomed over the town. “I live in that house.”    “No way, the ghost house? You’re Lydia’s daughter? She’s a legend!” Astrid smiled.    “Yep, that’s my mom.”    Jeremy’s eyes widened. “Wow, so that explains—uh, the clothes.” He gestured vaguely at her outfit: a long black t-shirt, baggy black cargo pants, and chunky black shoes. She had a thick choker around her neck and her hair styled in a spiky bun.    “I just came from a funeral,” Astrid said matter-of-factly.    Jeremy smiled. “Ah, I see. So what are you doing in my neck of the woods?”    “I needed a break from family.”    Jeremy took in a sharp breath, glancing back at his house. “I hear ya.”    “Family drama?” Astrid asked, recognizing the look of child/parent tension in his expression.

   “Yeah, my parents and I don’t really get along,” Jeremy admitted. He glanced between Astrid and his treehouse. “But I don’t want to bore you with that.” He bounced a little on the balls of his feet and gave a sheepish grin. “Hey, I know we just met, but would you like to see inside?” He pointed up at the tree.    Astrid offered a small, shy smile. “Um, I’d like to, but—“    “I hope I’m not coming off too strong,” Jeremy interrupted, holding his hands up in a gentle, defensive gesture.    “Oh, no, it’s not that. I just… I guess I could.” Astrid said in a soft, hesitating voice. Her eyes darted from the tree to the road and back. Connecting with people had always been tough for her, even when they showed kindness and interest. She longed for friends, but the right words often eluded her.    “Oh, great!” Jeremy beamed.    Astrid looked up at the treehouse, which appeared old and somewhat unkempt. “Is it safe? I don’t want to fall through and hit my head again.”    Jeremy snickered, “It should be; it’s pretty sturdy wood. Don’t be fooled by the rotting parts; it’s held firm since my dad was a kid. Besides, I think you’ll like what’s inside.” Astrid smiled at his warmth and charm. Jeremy climbed the ladder ahead of her. “I’m excited to show you my collection.”    “Collection of what?” she asked, following him.    “You’ll see.”

   When she reached the top and stepped inside, Jeremy spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Welcome!” The interior was cozy, adorned with rugs, posters, string lights, and a collection of nostalgic memorabilia. In the back, by a window, was a record player and a crate full of old records. Astrid’s eyes lit up as she took it all in.    “May I?” she asked, pointing to the crate.    “Of course, that’s what I wanted to show you.”    “Awesome.” Astrid began to finger through the album covers, admiring their artwork.    “Would you like me to put something on?” Jeremy asked, coming to stand next to her. His proximity made Astrid smile, and she felt a flutter in her chest. She stiffened, wondering if the flutter was too loud. She glanced at him, but if he noticed, he didn’t show it. He pulled out a record by Pink Floyd. “How about ‘Dark Side of the Moon’? It’s a pretty chill album to have on while we get to know each other.” He flashed a cheeky grin, wiggling the album side to side.    Astrid chuckled, “Sure.”

   As the music began to play, adding a whimsical backdrop to the room, Astrid took a closer look at the decorations. The walls were adorned with posters of old movies and music: RoboCop, Nirvana, Ghostbusters, Fight Club, Green Day, and other iconic vintage classics.    “You really like the 80’s and 90’s,” Astrid said, shifting her attention to a small bookshelf.    “Yea, I guess I do.” Jeremy noticed her sifting through the books. “Do you like to read?”    “I do.” She pulled out a book, Poetry of Poe, and flipped through it absentmindedly. She smiled and quoted, “From a proud tower in the town, death looks gigantically down.”    Jeremy’s eyes widened with surprise. “Wow, The City in the Sea, I wouldn’t think many people know that one. Where’ve you been all my life?”    Astrid laughed, “Atop the hill, surrounded by ghosts, apparently.”    “Seen a lot of ghosts, have you?”    “No, actually,” she said, her tone becoming somber. She placed the book back on the shelf. “My mom says I saw one when I was four, but honestly, I don’t remember, and I haven’t seen one since.”    Jeremy looked puzzled, “No? Why not?”    She shrugged, “I couldn’t tell ya.” She settled into a beanbag chair across from the bookshelf, holding her stomach. It started to churn and threaten to bring up what she ate last.

   “So, this is a small enough town, why haven’t I seen you around?” Astrid’s voice sounded a little strained.    Jeremy had moved his attention to a small stand of classic VHS tapes beside the record crate. He looked over them mindlessly as he answered, “Oh I’m sure we’ve passed by each other here and there, but I go and stay with my grandparents quite often. It’s a small vacation away from Lucifer and his wife.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing towards the house.    Astrid chuckled, “Ah, that might explain it. I did end up leaving for boarding school, so I haven’t been around much, myself.” She winced, groaning softly as she leaned forward, clutching her stomach a little tighter.    Hearing her, Jeremy’s focus shifted back to her, concern on his face. “You ok?” he asked, approaching her and kneeling by her side.    Astrid initially nodded but then shrugged. “I’m not sure. I suddenly feel sick.”    Jeremy glanced around the room, looking worried, and let out a defeated breath before saying, “Are you hungry? I don’t have any food around, sorry.”    She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I just feel nauseous.” She placed a hand on her forehead and groaned. “My head suddenly hurts.” She closed her eyes, wincing.    “Uh oh. I think you might actually have a concussion. You should head home.”    “Really? A concussion? This fast?”    “It can take some time for the symptoms to show up, and then—wham—it hits like a train.”    “Okay. Well, I should get home then.”    He helped her up. “I’ll go down first in case you’re feeling weak, so you don’t injure yourself more if you fall.” As he guided her down, Astrid noticed that he kept her hand in his a bit longer than necessary. Despite his warm eyes, warm smile, and warm charm, his hand felt surprisingly cold.    “Thank you,” she said softly.    At the bottom of the treehouse, before retrieving her bike, she turned to him. “Thank you for letting me see your treehouse. It’s really cool.”    “Thanks,” he said with a smile. “Maybe you can come back again sometime?’    She gave a small nod, “Yeah, that’d be cool.”    “Cool. Maybe tomorrow, if your head’s ok?”    “Sure, thanks, Jeremy.” She gave an awkward wave, and he chuckled.    “Bye, Astrid.”    She grabbed her bike and walked it back up the hill. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that he was still watching her. She smiled.

---

END NOTES: Changes I've made (and plan to make) from the movie.

I’ve removed the fiancée/manager character entirely. I found him unnecessary, and his execution felt lacking. The overuse of mental health terms to villainize him and, by extension, the mental health movement, struck me as lazy and problematic. While his manipulative nature was meant to control Lydia, there was no positive representation to counterbalance his portrayal, leaving the audience with little context for his misuse. Instead, these issues were treated as punchlines, which, in my opinion, trivialized the subject matter.

In my version, Betelgeuse’s ex is introduced more subtly, with hints of her greater role as the main antagonist in a potential third installment: Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetljuice Her character was completely underutilized in the film, and I felt she was given one of the most anticlimactic ends for any villain.

Bob is not in this story.

I’ve slightly re-imagined the detective, a character with a lot of untapped potential. On the other hand, Jeremy was the standout character for me and should have been the central antagonist. I’ve developed his relationship with Astrid more deeply, creating a stronger emotional impact leading up to his betrayal.

Astrid, in my version, is a more realistic teenager—not the stereotypical brat she was in the movie. She and Lydia have a complex relationship, which, while strained, is more balanced. (Let’s not forget that Lydia herself was once a moody, gothic teen. She had personality, moped around, and resented her stepmother, but her characterization felt more nuanced and authentic than Astrid’s does here.)

I was also disappointed by Delia’s treatment in the sequel—she felt like a mere caricature of her original self, and I believe she deserved much more.

As for Betelgeuse, he went from being an outcast in the first film—someone you were warned against—to having an office and a legitimate business? That felt completely out of place. Much like Delia, he seemed like a caricature of his former self, and he’s significantly overpowered in this version. I’ve returned him to the chaotic, outcast anti-hero we all know.

If you enjoyed the movie, that’s great—everyone has different tastes, and I respect that. But I hope you’ll give this version a chance and maybe find something to enjoy here too. If, like me, you were left wanting more from the sequel, perhaps this re-imagining will help scratch that itch. It’s been a cathartic project for me, and I hope you enjoy the read.