#delia is perfect. no notes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cryoculus · 2 months ago

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— TRACK 05: INHERITANCE ⟢

a tropical island getaway in the middle of the tour is just the thing everyone needs, but work will always come before play. at least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

★ featuring; mydei x f!reader

★ word count; 6.8k words

★ tags; rock band au, found family, hostile acquaintances to friends to lovers, grief/mourning, angst, slow burn, eventual smut

★ notes; i'm barely active on tumblr and it Shows LMAO T T so sorry, i spent most of my time on twt if you wanna chat!! also, i actually finished this entire series on ao3 very recently, and i was SOOOO EMOTIONAL AAJAHSDJSDF but i'm still going to gradually upload chapters here so no worries :3c

★ header art cr; sarhiyu on x & ig

TRACKLIST ✧ READ ON AO3

The tarmac shimmers in the heat as the plane touches down, wheels kissing the runway with a gentle thud. You blink against the sudden glare. The sun here is relentless, poured straight from a bottle of gold. Palm trees sway in the distance, lazy and unbothered. Even the wind seems drunk on salt and sunlight.

On the island of Lethe, everything smells like sea spray and sunscreen and something floral you can’t place. The airport buzzes with the usual traffic. Someone in a bucket hat is live-streaming on the arrivals ramp. Another is dancing barefoot to music leaking from their phone speakers.

You’re with the band, cutting through the buzz as a unit. Backpacks slung over shoulders, dark glasses pulled low. Someone across the terminal clocks your group, whispers something, lifts a phone.

Cipher smirks. Phainon rolls his eyes. Mydei just keeps walking.

The road to the Mnemosyne Music Fest winds along cliffside bluffs and past dense groves of olive trees. On the horizon, the sea glitters like it’s holding its breath. But several minutes later, the bass starts to reverberate. Softly at first, more a feeling than a sound, like thunder rolling beneath the ground. You lean your head to the window, watching the festival bloom from the island’s center like a mirage made of strobe lights and smoke.

By the time the shuttle pulls up to artist check-in, the bass has settled into your chest like a second heartbeat. You barely make it two steps off the shuttle before someone with a neatly-pressed suit and a headset materializes with the speed and grace of a professional chaos-wrangler.

“Flamechasers?” she asks, already checking her tablet. “Perfect. My name is Delia. Welcome to Lethe.”

Delia starts walking, and you all instinctively follow.

“Now, I know you’ve heard it already, but humor me, it's tradition. Lethe is an island built for forgetting. People come here to lose themselves—no clocks, no headlines, no consequences. But Mnemosyne is the exception,” she says, glancing back with a grin.

Then, Delia sweeps an arm toward the sprawling festival grounds ahead, where towers of scaffolding shimmer with silk, and sound bleeds like perfume into the sun.

“That’s the joke, right? Mnemosyne, from the ancient Lethean word for memory, is the one thing this island lets people keep.”

She turns to face you, her grin widening. “You’re here to be unforgettable. Let’s make sure of it.”

Once Delia has made sure you’re all settled comfortably in the hotel reserved exclusively for artists, the band drifts toward one of the outdoor lounges. The salty breeze ruffles papers and hair alike as you settle into plush chairs, the distant hum of festival prep buzzing beneath a lazy sun.

Phainon flips open the music festival brochure the front desk handed out, reading aloud with a touch of skepticism, “Three days of music, madness, and memories. Sounds almost too good to be true.”

“Three days of heatstroke and schedule slips, more like,” Aglaea mutters behind her sunglasses, already tapping furiously on her tablet.

Tribbios fans herself theatrically with a laminated itinerary. “Speak for yourself. I packed three outfit changes per day.”

Garmentmaker’s voice hums quietly, crisp and matter-of-fact. “Based on current environmental variables and historical festival data, probability of human overheating is approximately 87.3%. I’ve allocated a portion of my processing capacity to monitoring your collective risk of heatstroke. Please notify me before spontaneous combustion.”

Cipher lets out a bark of laughter. “See? This is why you’re my favorite glorified thermostat.”

“Flattery detected. Logging under ‘suspicious behavior.’”

Sometime later, you slip away from the lounge, claiming the heat’s making you dizzy. No one questions it, not with Cipher trying to stack drink umbrellas on Phainon’s head and Aglaea muttering war crimes into her tablet.

The path curls around a sun-drenched courtyard, quiet except for distant basslines and the soft rustle of palm fronds. You find a little pocket of shade under a trellis dripping with bougainvillea and sink onto a low wall, thumb already flicking your phone awake.

You scroll past missed emails, a dozen unread group chats, until you land on the one that matters.

Me: you weren’t kidding

Me: lethe is as unreal as people say it is

Hyacine: called it. what’s it like?? tell me everything.

Me: like someone turned up the saturation and forgot to turn it back down

Me: everything smells like limes and suncream

Me: we haven’t even played yet and i’m already overstimulated in three languages

Hyacine: you have NO IDEA how jealous i am btw

Hyacine: you get to go to mnemosyne for free

Hyacine: actually you get paid for it wtf

Me: cause that’s...my job???

Hyacine: btw, how are you?

Hyacine: my inbox has been suspiciously quiet since you guys played in carmitis

Hyacine: last time that happened was back in aidonia

Hyacine: and you already told me That story

You hesitate. The breeze tousles your hair, carrying the sharp tang of sea salt. You glance back toward the lounge, where you can just see Mydei’s silhouette through the open archway. He’s half-reclined, sunglasses perched like armor, listening the other members’ nonsense with his usual impossible calm.

Me: we’re okay? mostly?

Me: this isn’t another aidonia sitch don’t worry

Hyacine: but something happened, right?

Me: ...you can tell? through text??

Hyacine: i’m your best friend, of course i can

Hyacine: so are you gonna spill or do i have to pry the truth from your cold dead hands

Me: morbid

Me: but

Me: it’s mydei

Hyacine: 🙄🙄🙄

Hyacine: what did the big brooding blonde do this time

Me: not what he’s called

Me: but i don’t think i can stomach having to immortalize it in our text history

Me: you free for a call?

Hyacine: for gossip? ALWAYS

You slip back inside just long enough to grab your keycard and disappear down the corridor. Past the opulence and the endless designer sandals slapping against imported tile. The second you shut the door to your hotel room behind you, the world narrows.

Cool air, drawn curtains, the hush of ocean outside. You kick off your sandals. The carpet’s soft beneath your toes. Your phone’s already buzzing in your hand. You sink onto the couch, phone tucked between your cheek and shoulder, and for a moment, your breath catches. This couch is too similar. Or maybe it’s just you.

“Okay,” Hyacine’s voice crackles to life in your ear. “Talk. Now.”

You let out a quiet, stunned laugh. “Hi to you too.”

“No time for pleasantries. You dropped the it’s Mydei bomb and then asked for a call. That’s the equivalent of yanking a fire alarm.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

You pick at a loose thread on your sleeve, blinking up at the wide Lethean sky through the sliding doors of the balcony. The silence stretches.

“It wasn’t… anything, really. It was after the show in Carmitis. He came to my hotel room. Late at night.”

“Oh,” Hyacine says, voice low and alert. “That kind of late?”

You close your eyes. “There was wine. We were on the couch.”

The pause that follows makes you think of the gears turning in your best friend’s head, and when they finally do click, she says your name like a mother reprimanding her difficult teenager.

“Please tell me you at least used protection.”

Okay, you expected Hyacine to be surprised—maybe gasp, maybe tease you into oblivion—but you didn’t expect her to jump straight to scandal. The implication alone makes your face burn, shame rising hot in your chest like a swallowed sun.

“Hyacine, it’s not like that,” you say quickly, voice dipping, toes curling hard into the rug beneath you. “He said the others were being unbearable at the afterparty, so he just helped me work on that demo. The one I accidentally dropped in the cloud? Mydei hasn’t let me live that down since.”

“Late at night. With wine. In your hotel room. On a couch.”

You wince. Out loud, it sounds... awful. Incriminating in a way you didn’t account for.

“We didn’t—” You catch yourself, struggling for precision. “Nothing like that happened, okay? We might have been a little tipsy on that absurdly fancy pomegranate wine he brought. But we were working. Seriously. Believe it or not, the track actually sounds cleaner now than it did before he heard it.”

Hyacine exhales, not quite convinced. “But it’s not the song that’s got you all tangled up, is it?”

Leave it to Hyacine to go straight for the jugular.

You sigh. “You know how in some moments, it’s not a kiss, but it might as well have been?”

The memory tightens in your chest. It’s been days, and still the look in his eyes flashes back at the worst times. The glint of something more than just mere interest.

If things were different—if you weren’t you, and he wasn’t him—would you have leaned in? Would he have?

But wishing on hypotheticals doesn’t change the aftermath. It just leaves you aching over answers you’ll never be brave enough to chase.

Hyacine doesn’t say anything at first. You hear the faint rustle of her moving around, probably flopping back against her bed, earbuds crackling a little in your ear.

Then: “Okay, not to be that person, but... I’m gonna be that person.”

You brace for impact.

“He was an asshole to you at first, but people change, yes?” she starts with an infuriatingly chipper tone. “Mydei’s hot, he clearly respects your music, and he brought wine. If the universe handed you that moment on a velvet cushion, why didn’t you take it?”

You bite your lip. “Because it’s complicated.”

“In essence, all things are complicated,” she counters. “Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”

You pull your knees up tighter to your chest, pressing your forehead against them for a second. The air in the room suddenly feels heavier, like the pressure’s changed.

“It’s not just that he’s in the band,” you say quietly. “It’s that we work together. We live out of the same tour bus, share the same stage. If something gets messy between us, it’s not just awkward, it could wreck the whole dynamic.”

You let the silence sit. Just for a beat.

“I know where I stand with them now. I’ve worked hard to be part of this. I can’t risk blurring the lines just because... he looked at me like that.”

“What if you don’t take that risk, and regret it anyway?” she asks gently.

You shut your eyes. Because you already do.

Hyacine doesn’t push—thank gods for that. The silence stretches, soft and companionable, like it always has between the two of you. You let your head rest back against the pillows, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Somewhere below your window, the music festival continues its slow, decadent unfurling. Bass thudding like a distant pulse.

You think about the reporter.

The one who found you in Carmitis. The way his words had curved just a little too knowingly when he mentioned your name. That flicker in his eyes like he was connecting dots you didn’t even know were on the page. He hadn’t published anything. Maybe he won’t. Maybe it was just curiosity. But still, the memory leaves a cold smear down your spine.

You don’t tell Hyacine.

You want to, so badly, but the words wedge behind your ribs like splinters. She’d understand. She always has, but something about it makes the whole thing feel too real. As if saying it out loud would crack open a dam you’re not ready to deal with.

So instead, you say nothing. But you pick at the thread on your sleeve again, unraveling it loop by loop.

Maybe Hyacine hears the shift in your breath, or maybe she just knows you too well, because she speaks up gently. “You don’t have to decide anything right now, you know.”

You smile, small and grateful, even if she can’t see it.

“I know.”

The next time you all regroup, sunlight slants through the hotel’s breezy conference alcove, hitting floral shirts, mesh tops, and damp hair still drying from quick showers. Everyone’s changed and freshened up. Cipher’s traded her cargo pants for iridescent shorts, Castorice looks like a model in soft cream linen, and even Phainon’s sandals somehow make him look annoyingly editorial.

Aglaea is already standing at the head of the table, tablet in hand, expression sharp beneath wide sunglasses. Her hair’s up. Her patience, clearly, is not.

“Alright, listen up,” she begins, tapping the tablet with an acrylic nail. “Here’s the rundown for the next seventy-two hours. Don’t make me repeat this.”

A low ripple of amusement hums from the group.

Aglaea swipes once, then continues. “Day one—that’s today—you’re free until sundown. That means: no obligations. Use the time to explore, hydrate, and pretend you’re normal people. Tonight, however, there’s a private beach party for all artists on the lineup. Attendance is expected. You don’t have to mingle, but you do have to show face.”

“Do we have to swim?” Cipher asks. “Because I packed exactly zero waterproof mascaras.”

“Gods, no,” Aglaea replies. “But wear something stylish enough to get you photographed and breezy enough to run from said photographers.”

She taps again.

“Day two, that’s performance day. You’ve got one of the evening slots. Prime time. There’s a morning tech run if you need it, and I recommend it, even if you’re hungover. We want this smooth.”

Murmurs of acknowledgment rise. Garmentmaker makes a few whirring noises that you chalk up to them taking note, Castorice nods, Anaxa lets out a disinterested huff.

“Day three,” Aglaea concludes, “is another free day. You can all enjoy the festival as you see fit, but don't go off-grid. Keep your phones on in case we get a media request or photo op. Festival ends at midnight. We fly out next morning.”

She turns off the tablet with a brisk snap.

“Questions? Complaints? Attempts at rebellion?”

Silence.

Then: “Can we drink tonight?” Phainon grins.

Aglaea deadpans. “Just don’t die. Or embarrass the label. That goes for all of you.”

The moment she dismisses the meeting, the band fans out like schoolkids at the final bell.

“Three hours before sundown,” Tribbios calls after you all, already tugging her sunglasses into place. “Don’t make me track you all down in a city like this.”

Cipher doesn’t need to be told twice. She loops her arm through Anaxa’s and flashes a grin sharp enough to slice. “C’mon. Come be strange with me.”

Anaxa sighs in that long-suffering way only he can manage, but he doesn’t resist. Garmentmaker glides after them without a word, tablet spinning lazily beside them, every step as serene as it is otherworldly. Just like that, you’re left standing in a rare pocket of silence at the edge of the dispersing group.

Until—

“You coming?”

You glance up. Phainon’s already a few steps away, Castorice beside him, her blouse catching the breeze like something out of a magazine shoot. He’s looking over his shoulder at you, one hand casually tucked in his pocket.

“We were thinking of checking out the temple district,” he says. “Apparently one of the priests only speaks in riddles.”

You blink. “Wait, actual riddles?”

Castorice’s smile is easy, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “The cryptic, needlessly poetic kind. It’s a Lethe thing.”

You hesitate for half a breath, then shrug. “Yeah, alright. Why not.”

Lethe is absurd. Half its architecture is classical marble, half neon graffiti. You pass fortune-tellers beside frozen daiquiri stalls. Women in lamé bikinis lounge beside old men reading epics aloud on street corners. The air smells like citrus and incense and something archaic.

By the time you reach the temple, you’re sweating through your tank top, clutching a paper fan from a stall labeled Cooler Than Thou.

The temple itself is a hush of cool stone and shadows. The so-called riddle-priest waits on a raised dais, draped in a shawl of peacock feathers and wearing mirrored sunglasses that reflect the whole room back at you. Somehow, they radiate gravity and absurdity in equal measure.

Phainon volunteers first.

The priest inclines their head. “A path you seek, yet stand in place. What moves not, yet takes you far?”

Phainon pauses. “Memory?”

A slow smile. “Accepted.”

Castorice steps forward next.

“You have me now, though not before. A key to locks, a cost to more.”

She hums for only a moment. “Experience.”

“Accepted.”

Then it’s your turn.

You step forward, palms a little clammy on the fan’s cheap plastic handle, and the priest looks at you like they already know every answer you might give, and every question you haven’t admitted to yet.

“A bridge I build not, yet I cross. I linger only where you look.”

You freeze.

For the smallest sliver of time, you’re not in the temple at all. You’re back in the dim golden haze of the Carmitis hotel room. Mydei’s eyes are on you—amber catching low light, his hand hovering just barely over the curve of your knee. That pause between heartbeats. That sense of almost. Not a kiss, but close enough to burn like one.

Your breath catches.

“…A thought,” you murmur.

The priest bows low. “Accepted.”

Later, you find yourselves perched on temple steps, sipping neon drinks from hollowed-out lychees. The Lethe skyline glows faintly rose-gold in the distance. Phainon’s doodling something in the corner of a map. Castorice has her chin on her hand, watching the crowd drift past like tide foam.

You exhale. “Okay, that was weirdly existential for a daytime activity.”

“Mm.” Castorice hums. “That’s Lethe. The longer you’re here, the less you know if you’re dreaming or reminiscing.”

You don’t say it, but you feel it—that slippage between memory and moment. Between that hotel room in Carmitis and the faint touch of golden eyes across a wine-soaked haze.

Somewhere across the island, Cipher is probably bribing a street vendor for an authentic peacock feather fan. Anaxa’s likely watching with half-lidded boredom while Garmentmaker documents the chaos, snapping a photo every five steps. You like to imagine Tribbios and Aglaea are letting themselves have a little fun too before everything shifts back into gear tomorrow.

Mydei’s nowhere in sight.

For now.

The sun bleeds low over the horizon by the time you’re back at the hotel. Your skin smells like stone and sun, and your feet ache in that oddly satisfying way—proof you were alive somewhere interesting. The others filter in with various souvenirs: temple charms, mystery bruises, melting popsicles.

Right on schedule, the private beach party unspools beneath a sky rinsed in pink and lavender. String lights loop from palm to palm.

Everyone looks a little too good. Which is to say: perfectly Lethean.

You arrive with the others in staggered pairs and groups, dressed to match the heat. Somewhere down the shore, Cipher is doing cartwheels in the surf while Anaxa stands with his arms crossed like a chaperone from a gothic novel. Garmentmaker’s already dancing with a crew of avant-garde performance artists in strobe-lit body paint.

There are faces you recognize immediately. Chart-toppers, cult favorites, artists you used to stream at 2AM in your bedroom. Some you never thought you’d see in the wild. But the one who draws your eye most effortlessly is her.

Thalia.

Lethe’s hometown icon, synth-pop darling, and unapologetic glitterstorm in human form. She’s draped across a beach lounger like it’s her rightful throne—sunkissed legs crossed, rhinestone-framed sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose, a high braided ponytail flicking with every turn of her head. The kind of beautiful that looks staged even when it isn’t.

A handful of other artists orbit her, laughing too loud at stories you can’t hear. You spot three names from the festival roster among them, nodding along like she’s reading the stars.

The band begins to splinter off eventually, like light hitting a prism.

You sip something peach-colored and questionably alcoholic, drifting from group to group. The music is good, the ocean breeze better. Someone compliments your outfit; someone else tries to guess what band you’re in or if you’re an up-and-coming solo act. You don’t mind either. For a moment, it’s easy to just be—a body in motion, part of the pulse.

Then you feel it.

It starts as a flicker at the edge of your awareness, something quiet but undeniable, like gravity shifting beneath your feet.

You turn, and he’s just... there.

Mydei stands at the edge of the crowd like the universe pulled back a curtain just for him. His linen shirt is unbuttoned halfway down, ocean breeze catching the hem and fluttering it around his waist. But it’s the tattoos that strike you like a match.

They’re sprawling. Red ink, the shade of fresh embers, winding from his shoulder across the hard plane of his chest and down both arms. Ornamental and sharp-edged, they curl like flame and bloom like battle scars. You wonder, for one irrational heartbeat, if they burn when he’s angry.

Then there’s his face.

Hair windswept. Golden eyes locked on you like they’ve found the answer to something that’s evaded them for years. He’s not smiling, exactly, but there’s a pull at the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t push through the crowd. Somehow, people part without realizing it, until he’s in front of you, close enough that your breath hitches.

“You looked like you were trying not to be found,” he says.

You laugh quietly. “Was I?”

He tilts his head. “If you were, you’re terrible at it.”

Gods, he’s beautiful up close.

“So,” you murmur, “are you checking in on me? Or did you just get bored?”

“No. I just got curious,” he says, gaze still locked to yours.

Before you can ask what that means, a new voice slices into the space between you.

“Oh hell, you two are even prettier up close.”

You blink, caught off guard. But when you turn to face who it is—

It’s Thalia.

The synth-pop goddess herself, holding a drink garnished with something bright and sugary. Her braid swings as she plants herself beside you, sunglasses pushed to her forehead and eyes full of something you can’t name.

You open your mouth, half a greeting, half a question, but she speaks first.

“I’m not trying to crash,” Thalia says, holding up her hands. “I was actually looking for Aglaea. We’ve worked together a few times. Strict, terrifying, brilliant? That one?”

“Uh,” you manage. “She’s probably inside.”

Thalia hums. “Of course she is. Anyway! The Flamechasers, huh? Didn’t know you were all so unreasonably hot in real life. I’m kind of a big fan.”

You laugh in disbelief. “Seriously?”

She grins, then taps her phone awake and flips it around. There, clear as day, is the last thing you ever expected to see.

Flamescapes.

Your old fan account.

The carefully captioned photos, the dissected lyrics, the theories that caught fire in the comments. The username you buried when you joined the band. It all rushes back like a storm surge, and your mind isn’t sufficiently barricaded.

Your lungs forget how to pull air, but Thalia beams like she’s just shared a fun little secret.

“I’ve had notifs on for years,” she says, all sparkle and sincerity. “Best account for anything Flamechasers. Whoever runs this? Genius. Like they see things no one else does.”

You feel something seize in your chest. Then twist. Then splinter. The background noise distorts, laughter smears into static. Thalia’s perfume turns cloying. The heat bears down harder as your fingers twitch at your sides, desperate for something to grip.

Beside you, Mydei lingers like a presence you just can’t filter out.

You don’t meet his gaze—you can’t—but you feel the air shift, the way it always does when he’s focused on you. As if he’s picked up on every frayed edge you’re trying to hide.

You force a smile. “Yeah,” you say, tight and paper-thin. “I’ve… heard of them.”

Thalia pouts. “I was supposed to go to the Okhema stop, but it sold out in five minutes. Five. Aglaea wouldn’t even pull some strings for me. Can you believe that?” She flicks her braid over her shoulder with a huff. “So when I heard you were playing for Mnemosyne? I was ecstatic. Plus, you’ve been making waves lately, haven’t you, Diana?”

You nod. You smile again. You lie with your eyes.

But Mydei sees the cracks.

He’s been still at your side this whole time, but now his gaze ticks toward you, calm but alert. He doesn’t say anything right away, just watches you without pressing, and in the pause between Thalia’s last word and your answer, he leans ever so slightly closer.

“Want to get some air?” he says, gently. A soft out, offered like a secret.

You blink, and it’s like the noise catches up all at once. “Just a sec,” you say, somehow managing a smile. “Sorry, I—one moment.”

Thalia barely notices, already caught in another conversation. “Sure, babe! I’ll be right here!”

And then you’re moving. Mydei walks beside you, not too close, not too far, cutting through the crowd with easy steps that people naturally make space for. He doesn’t touch your elbow or press a hand to your back. He just makes room. By the time you’ve stepped into the quieter curve of a colonnade, the shadows cool your skin. You pull in a breath that doesn’t catch halfway.

Still buzzing, still overheated, but much clearer.

He waits until the silence stretches comfortably, then glances at you.

“You looked like you needed an exit.”

You nod, exhale slowly. “Thanks.”

The quiet that follows is softer now. Quieter in your chest, too. The chaos feels like it’s behind a pane of glass. You lean a little against the cool stone behind you, letting the salt air thread through your hair. Then Mydei glances sideways, casual but with a thread of thought behind it.

“Do you want to go for a swim?”

“What, now?”

He shrugs. “It’s Lethe. Time doesn’t really apply here.”

You smile despite yourself. “The sea’s probably rough. High tide.”

“There’s a pool,” he offers, tone easy. “Mine’s private.”

You stare at him for a beat. “You got a suite with a private pool?”

“Guess they liked my face.”

You scoff, pretending to be betrayed. “So that’s where the budget went.”

“I’ll let you borrow it,” he says. “Limited-time offer.”

There’s a beat where you should laugh, or tease him back, but you just watch him. He’s not pushing, not even leaning in. Just offering, like he has been all night. Still, as you murmur, “Alright. Why not,” there’s a quiet twist in your stomach that doesn’t come from nerves.

You wonder, without wanting to, if this will end where you think it might.

If he is thinking about that too.

If you’d stop him.

You don’t have the answers. But you follow him anyway.

Mydei’s suite is bigger than it has any right to be.

Sleek walls bathed in soft gold light, a minibar that could pass for a full kitchen, and floor-to-ceiling glass that folds open onto a private pool glowing faintly under the Lethean moonlight.

You’re in the water now, floating with your arms lazily outstretched as you stare up at the sky. The salt’s long gone from your skin, replaced with the quiet lull of chlorine and soft-lit luxury. Whatever had coiled in your chest earlier is unwinding, inch by inch, tension pulled out like thread.

Inside, through the open partition, Mydei’s propped up on the couch, laptop balanced on his knees. You can hear fragments of sound every now and then—reverb, a bit of static, a clipped vocal he’s likely trying to stretch into something new.

He’s not watching you, but he’s here. Still present, still easy in his body, but tuned into something else. Something that sounds like warmth, if you had to name it.

The part of you that walked here wondering if this night would turn into something else—the part that imagined steam and lips and skin—has gone quiet now. Not because the idea’s disappeared, but because he’s shown you something else instead.

He noticed you needed out. He gave it to you without a question.

Now he’s in his own little world, looping chords and catching melodies like fireflies, like maybe he’s trying to make something soft enough that it’ll reach you without asking why you needed it. That makes the guilt punch harder. You sink a little deeper into the pool, eyes closing briefly against the burn behind them.

Mydei doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know it was you. That the account Thalia flashed like a fan badge of honor was your second skin for years. That you lived and breathed his band long before you ever stood on their stage. That every lyric you used to decode, every candid you posted, every piece of art you uploaded at 3AM was a shrine to this—to him.

He’s sitting there, completely unaware, just trying to make you feel better.

You turn onto your back again, arms floating wide, as if the water could hold more than your body.

If you tell him, you don’t know what it’ll break. But not telling him at all?

That’s starting to hurt too.

You don’t notice the soft shuffle of bare feet across the deck. Your mind’s tangled in its own shadows—guilt gnawing quietly beneath the surface—when the water beside you stirs gently, not from your own movement.

Then—

A soft clink on the side table. A warm, calming scent curls through the night air.

Mydei crouches by the pool’s edge, setting down a small tray with careful hands. Two delicate porcelain cups, steam still rising in thin tendrils. A shallow dish of fresh-cut fruit, each piece skewered with quiet care. Biscuits arranged with almost embarrassing precision.

Your eyes flicker briefly to the absence of his shirt, revealing the strong lines of his torso and the tattoos etched across his skin, but you barely register it.

“You looked like you hadn’t eaten,” he says, almost sheepish. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just guessed off the room service menu. Hope chamomile isn’t too boring.”

You blink once. Twice. Your heart stutters in a way that has nothing to do with panic this time.

“I didn’t even hear you—”

He gives you a look. “You were somewhere else.”

You don’t deny it. Instead, you drift closer to the edge as he straightens, placing his laptop on a small table by the lounger. With a few taps, music spills into the quiet: a low, beatless blend of synth and strings, ambient and soft. The kind of thing that would normally play in some high-end spa, but here, it just feels thoughtful.

Mydei dips his feet into the water, one knee bent casually as he leans back on his hands.

You prop your chin on your arms at the edge of the pool and stare up at him, heart feeling heavy and oddly full all at once.

“You’re being really nice,” you say, quiet.

He glances down at you, one brow raised. “Is that a crime?”

“No. I just didn’t expect it.”

“Didn’t think I had expectations to live up to.”

There it is again. That calm intuition of his that doesn’t pry but always seems to hit close enough that you flinch. Mydei doesn’t press or try to unravel you and what happened during that conversation with Thalia. He’s simply making space. Offering warmth without asking for anything in return.

You curl your fingers around the edge of the pool and smile faintly.

“Chamomile’s not too boring,” you say. “It’s perfect.”

He doesn’t answer, but he does smile back. Then, he leans closer to pluck one of the skewers, handing it down to you like this is normal.

But you don’t feel normal at all.

You chew slowly, the fruit sweet against your tongue, and watch the way the ambient light plays across his profile. There’s a calmness to him here, under the low glow of the moonlight, face half-shadowed, eyes soft. The same hands that wrote half of Heaven on the Horizon rest open beside him, steady and warm.

The silence should be awkward. But it’s not.

It’s safe.

“Are you always like this when someone’s freaking out?” you ask lightly. “Or is this special treatment?”

He gives a small laugh. “Only when I don’t know why they’re freaking out.”

You almost flinch. He doesn’t say it like an accusation, more like a soft truth laid out in the open. Mydei doesn’t press—he never does—but the silence that follows settles beneath your sternum and stays there. You glance at the laptop’s idle screen, noticing the way he hasn’t touched it since you started talking.

Your voice is quieter when you ask, “You were close to him, weren’t you?”

He doesn’t pretend not to know who you mean.

“Hephaestion,” Mydei says. “Yeah. I was.”

Something in his voice shifts—just a fraction, but it pulls your chest tight. You can feel it coming now, and maybe that’s why your stomach’s already twisting.

“Do you want to know?” he asks quietly. Level and honest.

You don’t answer right away, but you nod.

Maybe it’s time someone told you the entire story, not just fragmented half-truths.

“Do you ever talk to him?”

“Sometimes. Not often.” He leans back in his chair, eyes still on the horizon. “Things got messy. Not between us, exactly. But… label pressure, timing, everything else.”

You stay quiet. Let him choose the pace.

“He didn’t leave because of the fights. Or because he hated where the sound was going.” Mydei finally glances at you. “Caenis told him to end it. His relationship with his girlfriend. Most of the execs said it was bad for our image. That it would mess with the trajectory we were building.”

A bitter little breath escapes him, it almost sounds like a laugh.

“He didn’t. When she got pregnant, the label wanted it covered up, wanted him to walk away, and he told them to go to hell.”

There’s no drama in the way he says it. No fire. Just fact. You can barely breathe.

“So he left?” you ask.

Mydei nods slowly. “They made it impossible for him to stay. He knew if he kept fighting it, we’d all go down with him. So he took the hit. Walked out, gave up everything, and didn’t even ask us to back him. What Cipher accused Aglaea of in Aidonia wasn’t the entire truth. She was just as forced to watch him go as the rest of us.”

You feel the ache of it settle in your throat.

You don’t realize how tight your hands have curled until you loosen them underwater. There’s something too familiar in what he’s saying. In the secrets people carry and the cost of telling the truth. Suddenly… you understand why Mydei didn’t pester you for answers.

Because he knows what it's like to carry something that isn’t yours alone to share.

As he gathers his thoughts, you tilt your head up toward the night sky. Like some cosmic joke, however, that damn demo that brought the two of you together in the first place starts playing on his laptop. Why he has the chaotic version downloaded, you have no clue, but the moment feels to fragile for you to call him out.

Surprisingly, Mydei comments on it first.

“Before he left, Hephaestion wrote one last song. Left the lyrics in the studio like he had no plans on finishing it at all,” he tells you quietly, sinking further into the water.

“That was the original sheet we built this one from. This song.”

It sinks in slowly, like warmth spreading from a bruise.

Of course.

Of course it was this song.

No wonder you’d been able to slip into it so easily, like it already knew you. The way the lyrics opened up under your hands like they’d always belonged there…

Because it was a song about standing tall in the wreckage. About shedding shame. About no longer asking for permission to be who you are. You’d thought you were the one giving it shape. But maybe, all along, it was giving you something too. Something you didn’t know you needed. Maybe that’s why it still hits you in the chest every time you hear it.

Because Hephaestion started it, and you finished it.

Two people, years apart, writing their way toward the same truth.

“He never said goodbye,” Mydei adds quietly. “But he did leave those lyrics behind.”

Then, softer, as if the memory still stings:

“I think that was his way of saying it.”

You stretch your fingers out beneath the surface, slow and careful, like touching light through murky glass. The silence between you sharpens.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, turning just enough to see him in the corner of your vision. “For trusting me with that.”

Mydei doesn’t answer right away. He stays half-submerged beside you, arms draped along the ledge. But you catch it—the subtle dip of his head. The shift in his breathing.

“I know it probably wasn’t easy,” you add. “And you didn’t have to. But… I’m glad you did.”

He exhales, a soft ripple across the water. “You’ve never asked for anything just to be nosy. Felt like maybe you’d get it.”

And you do. You really, truly do. Not just the story or the loss that comes with it, but the silence that followed. The price of choosing someone you love when the world demands you prove your loyalty elsewhere.

You drift a little closer, not enough to touch, but enough to feel the heat of him through the cool of the water. “I didn’t know I was part of something bigger when I touched that song,” you say. “But now it feels like… I was supposed to be there. Like I was meant to hear what he left behind.”

Mydei tilts his head toward you, eyes half-lidded in the low light.

“You were,” he says. Simple. Certain. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Your throat goes tight. You blink up at the sky, hoping the stars can hold the tears back.

Maybe the song saved you both.

Maybe not every inheritance is a burden.

Some are a kind of trust left behind in the dark, waiting for the right hands to carry it forward.

The silence settles again, like the world’s caught its breath along with you. But then, your phone buzzes from the edge of the pool, the sound sharp and sudden against the hush. You flinch, water rippling outward from your movement. Mydei lifts a brow as you reach for it, droplets skimming down your arm as you fumble with the screen.

TRIBBIOS.

You swipe to answer.

“Hey,” you say, still a little breathless.

“Finally.” Tribbios’ voice is all exasperation and edge. “Where are you? Do you have eyes on Mydei? He’s not answering his damn phone and Aglaea’s having a minor spiral.”

You glance at him. Still in the pool. Still right here.

He raises both hands like guilty as charged and mouths, Sorry.

“Yeah,” you say, trying not to sound like you’ve been through something tectonic. “He’s with me.”

“You’re what—” Tribbios stops herself. “Okay. Good. Just get back soon. Please. The celebratory cheers for all Mnemosyne artists is coming up soon.” Before you can answer, she adds, “And tell Mydei if he ghost-schedules one more vanishing act, I’m replacing his shampoo with glitter glue.”

Then she hangs up.

You stare at the phone for a beat.

“…Should I be worried?” Mydei asks dryly.

You shake your head. “Only if you enjoy showering.”

He huffs a laugh. And just like that, the spell breaks, but the truth stays between you anyways. You pull yourself out first, water sheeting down your skin, cool night air grazing every inch of you. You pause just long enough to shake the water from your hair before noticing—

Mydei’s gone still behind you.

He’s not being obvious about it, but his hands are braced on the edge and he’s blinking at the stone tile like it holds some deep philosophical truth. It’s only when he finally climbs out after you that it occurs to you:

He is very deliberately not looking at you.

The realization catches you off-guard. You’re both used to leather and layers, always half-armored even under stage lights. But this? Bare skin, damp curves, nothing to hide behind? This is new. And judging by the tension in Mydei’s shoulders, he doesn’t know what to do with it either.

His gaze flicks up as he grabs two towels from the nearby lounge chair. He offers one out, almost too quickly. “Here. You’ll get cold.”

You reach for it, brushing his fingers in the exchange.

“Thanks,” you murmur, clutching it to your chest before starting to dry off.

But even with your back turned, you can feel him still fighting not to stare.

And truthfully?

You don’t entirely mind.

“I’m gonna go find my shirt before Tribbios sends a drone,” Mydei mutters.

You nod, wrapping the towel tighter around yourself, heart thudding with something that’s not quite leftover emotion. As he walks away, damp hair sticking to the curve of his neck and towel slung haphazardly over one shoulder, you wonder—

Just how much longer can you pretend the water between you is purely metaphorical?

<- PREV | NEXT -> ✧ TRACKLIST ✧ READ ON AO3

#honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #mydei x reader #mydei hsr #mydei x you #mydei #cryoculus

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yamujiburo · 1 year ago

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I AM SO OBSESSED WITH YOUR DELIA OMG. Like okay let me gush for a second, you have galaxy brain reads on every pokemon character, they all follow their character notes closely but with like an extra dose of empathy and insight compared to what's in the show, like, "oh, yeah, that IS how they'd be as a real complex person"--like, I love how your Ash is this great mix of the empathy and hopefulness that are his main traits from the show but *also* feels properly like a 10 year old (in a way that respects the intelligence of 10 year olds!!) instead of having the blanks in his personality kind of filled in by the generic rules laid out by "shonen protagonist"

BUT DELIA OMG SHE'S MY FREAKING FAVORITE. I LOVE THE BIT in the cassidy arc where cassidy's like "I see what you're doing" and Delia's like "Shrug! :)" and omg why is that perfect?? Like...one consistent theme you bring out in Delia is that she's so cozy with, and empathetic towards, her humanity. It shows up in her sexuality and how unafraid of it she is and how much she treats it as normal and not-shameful (which I find so healing), and I think what rings with me in the Cassidy bit is that she feels exactly the same way about her being a little catty towards Cassidy. She embraces her own emotional stake in the whole thing with so much love and so much acceptance that it's an okay thing for her to be. I love her. I love your comics. I hope you do lots more.

oh my gosh thank you for such a thoughtful and kind message 😭

I’m so glad you enjoy how I write these characters! I do my best to stay as true to them as possible but it makes me so happy that you also enjoy when I deviate a little bit.

Delia’s such a lovely character and it’s sad there’s so little about her outside of the novels. I’m glad my take on Delia still feels Delia even though I am filling in blanks haha. She definitely strikes me as the type who is ditzy but wiser than she lets on and knows herself, and her emotions especially, very well. She’s kind, and since she’s young, she’s a little naive but not at all a pushover. Idk she’s so fun to write!!

Thanks for reading my little comics 😭😭😭

#ask yam

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reallyromealone · 4 months ago

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PLZZZZ FINISH THE SPENCER REID ACCIDENTAL MATING ROME PLZZZZ I LOVE IT SMMM. Btw don't feel forced to finish it if you don't want I'm not trying to force you😥😥😥 BTW I LOVE YOUR WRITING IT'S SO GOOD 😋

Title: accidental mating

Chapter: 4?

Fandom: criminal minds

Characters: cast

Fic type: omegaverse

Pairings: Spencer x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, mpreg, violence, fluff

Notes:

Summary:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

It was decided that it would be safer for (name) and Spencer to share a room and subsequently a bed, hotch openly expressing his reluctance to let (name) be alone under any circumstances, Spencer and (name) though reluctant agreed to this though neither were particularly pleased.

Spencer looked at (name) who worked away on his laptop, having just finished his pizza while Spencer went over evidence quietly. The scent of content Omega and pleased alpha was heavy in the room, mixing together perfectly and (name) didn't even realize the purr that left his throat till he noticed Spencer staring wide eyed and a rumble left his chest, both startled and flustered. Both of them stared at each other, curious on what the other one would do and when Spencer noticed that (name) wasn't showing any signs of rejection.

"I... I uh... Fuck" Spencer was stumbling, flustered and frustrated with himself and (name) looked confused "it's ok, you got this" (name) encouraged the other who sighed "I know-- I know it's probably hormones but... Fuck how do I word this?" I have developed feelings for you? Whenever I look at you I want to hold you? I kind of wanna have sex with you but like romantically?

"I have feelings for you too Spencer" (name) whispered softly, feeling the others distress and confusion through scent "And it could be hormones or it could be the fact that we spend every day together, learned each other's habits and routines and have been actively trying to form interests in each others-- Spencer we have been practically courting for months" (name) said fondly and Spencer sighed with a smile "we have... Haven't we?"

"We have, think you can tolerate me enough to try and date me?"

"You won't let that go, will you?"

"Not for a while, I got four more uses in it"

"No tempy, I haven't had any changes yet but the twins are developing well" (name) said softly on the phone "thank you again for the gift by the way, I'm sure the twins will love it-- oh are we still meeting up after your book release?" (Name) Loved talking to his sister, listening to her work and what she's been up to and what her team was doing.

"Well I gotta go, give love to Angela and the rest" and with that (name) hung up, this call was longer than usual much to (name)s happiness especially with his sister's constant travels. (Name) Looked over the case files on the desk and sighed, he should visit her sometime...

Spencer and the rest were gone on the field while (name) was practically in the office but it wasn't it was a boring hotel room... God he hated this place.

He took a proper look at his cozy prison, the beige walls and neutral wallpaper and ordinary wall art.

It was all so boring.

Sifting through the files, he tried to look for something, Anything that could give him a clue.

He couldn't stop going back to a certain woman 'Delia Gapottec' her story just didn't add up, she was just... Off.

She was too perfect and her son, god her son made his skin crawl.

(Name) Didn't realize he fell asleep at the small kitchenette in the hotel room until he felt Spencer lift him and bring him to bed "sorry... Didn't mean to fall asleep" (name) slurred, pregnancy taking a toll on him "no one would be upset if you took a break, you're carrying twins" Spencer said softly, gently scenting (name) in a tender moment the Omega wasn't expecting but he should expect this from his mate.

"There's dead omegas out there and someone who needs to be taken down... I can't"

"I know you don't need help but please, let me help you"

"... I am a little exhausted "

"How about you continue your nap then?"

(Name) Was flustered when he asked this, wringing his fingers together "stay with me?"

Spencer felt his hear beat a mile a minute, nodding quietly before slipping into bed and pulling (name) close.

"THIS ONE IS A FUCK UP, LIKE THE REST OF THEM!" The man screamed and shattered a plate "I guess we have to find another one, pitty" the woman mumbled before putting a gun the the sobbing omegas head "you had one job, pathetic"

BANG

#x male reader #omega male reader #criminal minds a/b/o #criminal minds x male reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds omegaverse #alpha spencer reid #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader

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the--blackdahlia · 10 months ago

Text

Total Eclipse of the Heart (Beetlejuice x Reader)

Title: Total Eclipse of the Heart

Summary: Beetlejuice and (Y/n) share a bond that's suddenly severed. He would do anything to get her back.

Warnings: Mentions of attempted suicide, depression, longing

Beetlejuice let off a maniacal laugh as Juno yelled about the surprise he’d left on her desk. His favorite pastime was annoying the ever-loving shit out of her, and he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. He made his way through the halls, a shit-eating grin on his face. He saw people standing around the water cooler, chatting away—typical civil servant behavior. Beetlejuice grabbed a coffee cup from some random desk and joined them.

“So, what are we talking about? Sam and Diane? Frasier and Lillith? Are we still on who shot JR?” The people around the water cooler all quieted at his presence. Something that never really happened before. “What? I got shit on my face or something?”

“Beej,” One of the few friends he’d managed to make since working on his “people skills” with (Y/n), approached him. This was a man named Chris. Beetlejuice didn’t know his whole backstory, but he knew he’d done some really bad shit.

“What?” He snapped. Chris held out a nametag to show Beetlejuice. Placing it in his hand, the demon was able to see the name.

(Y/n).

“What the fuck is this?” He asked before the pain set in. Starting at where his heart should be and stretching down his left hand to where a ring sat. Not a wedding ring, because she wasn’t ready. But a promise ring. Which, in Beetlejuice’s eyes, was the same thing. He dropped the coffee cup, watching it shatter on the ground before he took off running towards the exit. He hit the door with a force he didn’t know he had, falling through the brick wall of the Maitland-Deetz home. He landed on the attic floor, right at Barbara’s feet.

“That looked rough,” Her comment sounded flat, probably due to her and Adam staring out the window, watching for the Deetz to come back.

“Where’s (Y/n)?” The demon stood and dusted himself off.

“We don’t know,” Adam turned to look at Beetlejuice. “Lydia and Matilda are out looking for her.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Adam and Barbara looked at each other. “I swear on Ryan Reynolds, someone better tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“Here,” Barbara handed Beetlejuice a piece of paper. He unfolded it to read.

I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. Nobody blame yourselves. You were all lovely. I’m the broken thing in this house. Nobody summon Juicebox to look for me. He’ll see me sitting at a desk in the Nether before long. I love you all.

~(Y/n)

“The fuck?” He wasn’t sure he understood what was happening, but he knew it was hurting him. “Where is she?!” He boomed, closing his eyes and hoping to hear her say his name. But nothing came.

So he waited. He stood at the window while Adam and Barbara milled around, doing things to keep themselves distracted but not having much purpose. Neither of them had ever seen Beetlejuice stand so still. He normally bounced off the walls, and if he was sitting, he was bouncing his leg or playing with whatever fidget toy Lydia or (Y/n) would give him. Matilda swore he had ADHD, but how do you diagnose a demon?

Finally, he saw Matilda’s car at the end of the driveway. Beetlejuice was right at the front door as Lydia and Matilda entered. Barbara and Adam were hovering not far behind, and even Delia was waiting.

“We found her. Got her to the hospital,” Lydia explained. “They’re going to observe her overnight, make sure there’s nothing medical that needs to happen. Then she’s going to a psychiatric hospital for a mandatory 72-hour observation. After the 72 hours, they’ll determine if she’s safe to return home.”

“Did you tell her to summon me?” Beetlejuice asked, noting that both Lydia and Matilda stayed quiet. “Lydia!”

“She didn’t want us to summon you there. I don’t think she wants you to see her as anything less than perfect.”

“But she’s always so happy! Always smiling!”

“Beej, sometimes the people who smile the biggest are the ones that are hurting the most,” Matilda was trying to be gentle. But Beetlejuice wasn’t having it. He stormed off to spend time in the graveyard in the attic. Lydia sighed and looked over at Matilda.

“It’ll be ok. They’ll both be okay…” Matilda took her hand and led her towards their home library.

****

(Y/n) sat in the strange, sterile office of the doctor she would be seeing while in the psychiatric hospital. There wasn’t much in the way of decorations. The diplomas on the wall seemed to be laminated photocopies. No glass that way. Instead of porcelain knick-knacks, there were a couple of small, plush toys. Like the little bag clips that kids would load onto their backpacks. Across the strong, oak desk that is bolted to the cold vinyl flooring, sat Dr. Edward Wheeler. An older gentleman with thick graying hair, and glasses placed on the bridge of his nose. He had (Y/n)’s file opened in front of him.

“Well, Ms. (y/l/n)...”

“Please, call me (Y/n).”

“Okay. (Y/n). What led you to being in my office today?” He looked up at (Y/n), watching her fidget in the uncomfortable chair.

“Dunno…” She mumbled. He made a tsk noise and wrote a note on his notepad.

“Well, according to the notes from the ER, you had a high level of opioids in your system. And you told the staff that you took them intending to end your life,” He looked back up at her. “Your friends, Lydia Deetz and Matilda Wormwood, they were the ones that brought you to the hospital, is that correct.”

“Yeah,” (Y/n) signed. “Always seem to know when I’m in trouble.”

“Now, (Y/n), looking at your past medical history, you’ve spoken to a therapist about…seeing ghosts?” He raised an eyebrow. “And specifically, one named Beetlejuice?” He noticed the little smile that spread on her face. “Does that speak to you?”

“If you say his name three times, he’ll come here and prove I’m not crazy,” She was excited to see him again. She knew he’d probably be mad at what she did, and a little overprotective, but they could see each other again.”

“Well, then that is our sign to no longer use that name,” Dr. Wheeler wrote a few more notes. “From now on, that will be a banned word during therapy and as long as you are under my care.” Instantly, (Y/n)’s hand went to the ring that was on her left hand. One made from the same material as Beetlejuice’s. Dr. Wheeler noticed. “How did you get that in here?”

“Oh, this is from Be…Beej. It’s a comfort item.”

“I’m sorry but you can’t have this. It will be placed with your other belongings,” He held out his hand for her to place the ring in.

“Oh please Dr. Wheeler, let me keep it. Please.”

“I can’t do that (Y/n). Now please give it to me. I don’t want to have security come in and remove it from you,” (Y/n) felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she twisted the ring a couple of times before slowly removing it from her finger.

She felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest as she placed the ring in the doctor's hand. She couldn’t feel Beetlejuice anymore, and she suddenly felt really alone.

****

“AHHHH!” Beetlejuice screamed, throwing himself to the ground and holding his chest. The dramatic display spooked everyone, including Lydia, who didn’t scare easy. “(Y/n)!”

“What’s wrong?” Matilda moved through the kitchen to where Beetlejuice was now sitting up, holding his hand out in front of him.

“Her ring is gone. I can’t feel her anymore,” He watched as the light faded out from the band on his finger. He could always tell how (Y/n) felt through the ring. If she took it off to wash dishes, there would be a slight tingle followed by the scent of whatever soap they had that week. If she was mad at him and took off her ring, it burned. But this, this was different. It was just like someone had stuck a branding iron through his chest.

“She’s not…dead, is she?” Adam put down the paper he was reading.

“No. If she was dead, I’d know. She’s not dead,” Beetlejuice managed to stand up. “I have to go see her.”

“How are you going to that? She’s not going to summon you,” Lydia crossed her arms. “And there’s no visitors until she calls us to say she’s allowed visitors.”

“Well, when’s that?”

“Whenever her doctor says she can have visitors.”

“FUCK!!!” Beetlejuice went storming off.

“You think he’s angry?” Barbara was matching paint to the new wallpaper Lydia had helped her put up.

“I think that’s the understatement of the year,” Matilda returned to her baking as Lydia returned to help Barbara.

****

“Hello?” Lydia answered her phone. It was the number for the hospital that (Y/n) was at. It had been two weeks since the incident, and Beetlejuice had alternated between moping around the house and going to perform bio exorcisms to keep his mind distracted. But he was at home, listening to Matila having a book club with Adam and Barbara.

“Lyds? It’s me.”

“(Y/n)! How are you feeling?” That got the group's attention. Beetlejuice was on his feet in an instant.

“Let me talk to her!” He tried to grab for the phone, but Lydia held it away from him.

“I’m doing ok. Dr. Wheeler says I can have visitors. I was wondering if you and Matilda would come visit me.” She sounded different. More relaxed.

“Of course. We’ll come by tomorrow. We both have the day off from work.”

“That works perfectly. I have therapy today, but tomorrow I’m free. It’ll be great to see you guys.”

“Do you want us to bring you anything? Or anyone else?”

“No, that’s ok. Thank you for the offer. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Lydia hung up then.

“Why didn’t you let me talk to her?” Beetlejuice asked with a slight growl in his voice.

“I didn’t want to bombard her with things. Especially as she’s trying to heal Beej,” Lydia’s voice was calm and even, the complete opposite of Beetlejuice’s voice. “She asked for Matilda and I to go visit her tomorrow.”

“I’m going too.”

“Beej…I don’t think…”

“I’m. Going.”

“Okay, fine. But if she doesn’t want you there, you pop out. Wait in the car or something, okay?”

“Deal.” Beetlejuice turned and went back to Matilda’s deep discussion on A Game of Thrones.

****

“We’re here to see (Y/n),” Lydia told the receptionist.

“Just the two of you?” She wrote out their name tags. Beetlejuice was trying to stay hidden—part of the deal he made with Matilda and Lydia to get to join them. Stay hidden until they get to see (Y/n).

“Yes ma’am,” Matilda smiled and accepted the nametag.

“More than likely, she’s either in the garden drawing or she’s in the great room playing piano. I’d try the garden first. It’s a nice day.”

“Thank you,” Lydia, Matilda, and Beetlejuice made their way to the garden. A few people were walking around, talking with each other or with a nurse. They saw (Y/n) settled into a molded plastic chair, sketching an older gentleman just down the walkway. He was sitting on one of the concrete benches, watching birds.

“(Y/n),” Matilda was trying to make her voice as soft and even as possible. (Y/n) looked up and smiled, setting her sketchbook down and getting up to hug Lydia and Matilda.

“You guys made it. I’m so glad to see you.” She smiled, but it didn’t really show in her eyes. To Beetlejuice, it seemed that the life had been sucked out of her.

“Hey babycakes, I’ve missed you,” Beetlejuice spoke up. But it was like (Y/n) didn’t see him. “(Y/n)?”

“Let me show you guys my room. A couple of the teenagers here drew some art for it. I’ve got a radio, and Nurse Shelley brought me a big fuzzy blanket to cuddle up with,” (Y/n) led the group towards her room. Matilda walked ahead of Lydia and Beetlejuice.

“What the fuck is going on? She can’t see me?” He asked. “Why the fuck can’t she see me?”

“I don’t know Beej. We’ll figure it out, okay?” Lydia patted his shoulder.

“Here it is! I’ve even got a window. I love sketching the sunsets,” (Y/n) showed them the small room with bars on the window. “I’ve gotten a lot better. Dr. Wheeler has hope that I should be able to go home soon.”

“Well, I know Adam, Barbara, and Beej miss you,” Lydia tested the waters. (Y/n) looked at her like she had two heads.

“Adam…Barbara…oh. The ghosts. The ones that I made up to represent the homelife I never really had,” (Y/n)’s smile fell a bit. “They’re not real.”

“(Y/n), you know that’s not true. Plus, Beetlejuice really misses you…” Matilda stopped when (Y/n) backed up from her. “(Y/n)?”

“Please don’t say that name. That is a bad name. We don’t use that word here,” Lydia glanced over at Beetlejuice, whose mouth was hanging open. (Y/n) couldn’t see him, because she didn’t believe in him. Not anymore.

“Excuse me,” Dr. Wheeler knocked on the door. “(Y/n), is everything okay?”

“Yes, Dr. Wheeler. I was just showing Lydia and Matilda my room,” (Y/n) smiled at the doctor. “Lyds, Tillie, this is Dr. Wheeler. He’s helped me so much.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you two,” He shook their hands. “(Y/n), it’s almost lunch and medication time. I’m going to take your friends to discuss the process with them. Oh, it’s pizza day.”

“Oh, I love pizza day,” (Y/n) walked past the doctor. Beetlejuice wanted to follow. He wanted to be near (Y/n), but he also felt like his heart was breaking. So he walked behind Lydia and Matilda as they followed Dr. Wheeler to his office.

“So, you’re Lydia Deetz, and you’re Matilda Wormwood, am I correct?” Dr. Wheeler asked once the girls had settled in chairs across from his desk.

“Yeah. We’re (Y/n)’s best friends and roommates,” Lydia could feel Beetlejuice standing right behind her, sizing up the doctor.

“Then you must know how fragile (Y/n)’s psyche is,” Dr. Wheeler opened (Y/n)’s file. “In her first therapy sessions, we asked her to draw things. We just wanted to get a sense of what she was seeing, what she was feeling,” He laid a few drawings out. One was Adam and Barbara, sitting on the couch together. But there was a dark haze to it. Too much black crayon was used on what was a pretty sunny memory. Another was Beetlejuice sitting at a table, feet up, smoking a cigarette. Lydia taking pictures of food, and Matilda making books float around the room. All of them were memories, but all of them seemed to be have a shadow over them.

“These are good,” Matilda commented. “(Y/n) doesn’t draw as much as she used to. We have some of her work hanging in the library.”

“We asked her to draw what she sees at home. And she drew ghosts. She told us that this is Adam and Barbara Maitland, who, according to our records, died quite some time ago. She drew Ms. Wormwood using magic to move things around the house. She drew Lydia doing possibly the only normal thing. But what is most concerning is this personification of her depression, the mess in her mind.” He pointed to the picture of Beetlejuice.

“That’s not a personification of anything,” Lydia started, but Dr. Wheeler raised a hand to stop her.

“She says this is named Beetlejuice. She told me if we said his name three times, that he would show up. We have worked very hard to help her work through this creation. She now draws happier things. Flowers, birds, the sunset. We banned this name from being said, and she has come to terms with the fact that she created these imaginary characters to help her cope with the stresses of life. These people do not exist.”

“Dr. Wheeler, you don’t understand…”

“No Ms. Deetz, you don’t understand. (Y/n) is sick. We are trying to heal her. If I had my way, she would not be returning to the house on the hill. But she’s an adult and we can’t stop her from going someplace. And since we are so close to getting her to a healthy point, I will have to ask that you do not visit anymore until she is ready to be discharged.

“WHAT?!” Beetlejuice all but screamed, but Dr. Wheeler didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss.

Reluctantly, Lydia and Matilda left his office. He promised he would take care of informing (Y/n) about the new arrangement. Beetlejuice wanted to stick around the hospital to watch over (Y/n), but Lydia pulled him away.

“We’ll get her back Beej,” Lydia promised him when they got to the car. But when Lydia looked at Matilda, there were tears in her eyes.

Maybe they had actually lost their best friend.

****

“Okay, I’m going to go pick up (Y/n),” Matilda told Adam, Barbara, and Beetlejuice over a week later. “Lydia will be home from work shortly. Now, we don’t know if (Y/n) is going to be able to see all of you guys or not. We just have to be gentle with her, okay?”

“We will all be on our best behaviors,” Adam promised. Beetlejuice rolled his eyes and went back to staring out the window at the driveway.

That’s where he was when Lydia got home from work. Watching for Matilda’s car to come up the drive. Lydia sat down next to him.

“It’s like watching water boil or paint drying, isn’t it?” She asked him.

“What’s taking so long?” He grumbled, watching a bird fly in front of the window.

“Paperwork probably. It takes a while,” Lydia looked out the window with him. That’s when Matilda’s car appeared, pulling up the driveway. Everyone waited as (Y/n) and Matilda got out, (Y/n)’s few belongings in a bag in her hands. They walked into the house.

“It’s a little chilly in here,” (Y/n) walked right past Barbara and Adam without saying a word. “But it’s so good to be home.”

“We’re glad to have you back,” Lydia hugged (Y/n). Beetlejuice watched (Y/n) curiously like a cat just watching his territory.

“Babe,” He whispered, but it fell on deaf ears as the girls headed upstairs to (Y/n)’s room. Beetlejuice started to follow.

“Maybe you should give her some space,” Adam commented, but Beetlejuice just glared at him before heading upstairs as well.

“Here, I drew some new things,” (Y/n) handed Lydia and Matilda some new artwork she had done. “I think I might take painting up again.” Lydia wanted to say that Adam would love to have a painting friend, but she kept quiet. “Oh, there’s that ring.” The two other girls looked back at Beetlejuice, who was excited. Once (Y/n) put her ring back on, she’d be linked to him again. He’d be able to feel her, to help her. “Do either of you know where I got this? I don’t remember.”

“Uh…” Was all Matilda could muster. (Y/n) shrugged and looked at the elegant band again before setting it on her dresser.

“Who’s hungry? I’m starving,” (Y/n) walked past Beetlejuice, stopping for a second. “Man, I just got a draft. I think I need to get my hoodies out of the closet.” She walked away then as Beetlejuice stood there.

****

It had been a couple of weeks since (Y/n) had returned home. While things were peaceful, Lydia felt she was walking on eggshells, trying to keep the ghost talk to a minimum. Beetlejuice was pining a lot. He just wanted (Y/n) to see him. But nothing seemed to work. So he was currently sitting in the kitchen, watching as (Y/n) did dishes and sang along with the music from her phone. He heard the beginning piano of that Bonnie Tyler song playing.

“Turn around,” He whispered along with the guy on the song.

“Every now and then, I get a little bit lonely, and you're never coming 'round,” (Y/n) sang. Beetlejuice perked up a bit. Maybe this was what he needed.

“Turn around,” Beetlejuice watched her.

“Every now and then, I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears,” (Y/n) sang into the wooden spoon she had been drying.

“Turn around…”

“Every now and then, I get a little bit nervous that the best of all the years have gone by,” She rinsed a plate and set it in the drying rack.

“Turn around…”

“Every now and then, I get a little bit terrified, and then I see the look in your eyes,” Beetlejuice stood behind (Y/n) then.

“Turn around, bright eyes…”

“Every now and then I fall apart…”

“Turn around, bright eyes…”

“Every now and then I fall apart,” (Y/n) turned around to face Beetlejuice and he swore for a brief second, she was looking right at him.

“Turn around,” He reached out to touch her, but she was just a little out of reach.

“Every now and then I get a little bit restless and I dream of something wild,” The Maitlands, Lydia, and Matilda could hear (Y/n) and Beetlejuice singing from the kitchen. They didn’t want to break whatever spell was going on. They all wanted (Y/n) back, but they also needed to see what was going on.

“Turn around…”

“Every now and then I get a little bit helpless and I'm lying like a child in your arms,” (Y/n) could feel the cold air in the kitchen with her, the same cold feeling that had been following her around the house since she came back. She could also feel eyes on her from the dining room but made no move to look that way.

“Turn around,” Beetlejuice watched her. He could tell she was feeling something. He was feeling that spark back in his heart.

“Every now and then I get a little bit angry and I know I've got to get out and cry,” (Y/n) could feel tears in her eyes.

“Turn around.”

“Every now and then I get a little bit terrified but then I see the look in your eyes,” (Y/n) couldn’t stop singing even if she wanted to. Something was compelling her to keep going.

“Turn around bright eyes,” Beetlejuice couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on his face.

“Every now and then I fall apart.”

“Turn around bright eyes.”

“Every now and then I fall apart!” Right then, Beetlejuice made his move. He reached out and was finally able to touch her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and held her hand in his other one. She rested her other arm on his shoulder. She couldn’t see what was going on, but she could feel cold against her skin.

“And I need you now tonight, and I need you more than ever. And if you only hold me tight we'll be holding on forever. And we'll only be making it right 'cause we'll never be wrong,” (Y/n) sang as she was twirled around the room. Right then, she was able to see Adam and Barbara standing with Lydia and Matilda.

So the ghosts were real after all.

“Together we can take it to the end of the line. Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time.”

“All of the time,” Barbara, Adam, Lydia, and Matilda found themselves singing backup. Part of the Beetlejuice band apparently.

“I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark. We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks,” (Y/n) sang to the invisible force in front of her. She knew who it was, but she just couldn’t make the connection. Not yet. “I really need you tonight. Forever's gonna start tonight.”

“Forever gonna start tonight,” The quartet sang as (Y/n) stopped moving around the room.

“Once upon a time I was falling in love, but now I'm only falling apart. There's nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart,” (Y/n) looked around, a little confused as to why she had stopped dancing. “Once upon a time there was light in my life but now there's only love in the dark. Nothing I can say, a total eclipse of the heart.”

That’s when she felt herself being lifted up and placed on the breakfast table, a clattering of glassware on her less-than-graceful landing. She felt herself moving around the table again with the same invisible force. Now the other four stood around the table, watching her.

“Turn around, bright eyes. Turn around, bright eyes,” She could hear them sing, but there was a fifth voice there. A deeper, more gravelly one. One that she heard whisper her name many a night. “Turn around.”

“Every now and then I know you'll never be the boy you always wanted to be.”

“Turn around,” Beetlejuice sang, and (Y/n) could hear him clearly this time.

“But every now and then I know you'll always be the only boy who wanted me the way that I am,” She could feel her feet leaving the table as she floated up into the air. The rest of the world just seemed to melt away as a hazy figure entered her vision.

“Turn around,” He sang to her, with an accompaniment. But she knew it was him.

“Every now and then I know there's no one in the universe as magical and wondrous as you,” There he was, with that shit-eating grin he always wore. The one she loved to see, even when he was pulling pranks on her.

“Turn around,” He whispered to her, moving his head to kiss the hand that he was holding.

“Every now and then I know there's nothing any better. There's nothing that I just wouldn't do,” She returned the favor, kissing his hand this time.

“Turn around bright eyes.”

“Every now and then I fall apart,” She felt him pull her a little closer at that statement.

“Turn around bright eyes.”

“Every now and then I fall apart! And I need you now tonight. And I need you more than ever. And if you only hold me tight, we'll be holding on forever. And we'll only be making it right 'Cause we'll never be wrong. Together we can take it to the end of the line. Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time!”

“All of the time.” The quartet sang back to her.

“I don't know what to do, I'm always in the dark. Living in a powder keg and giving off sparks!” She was putting emotion into this that needed to be let out for years. Tears were streaming down her face, but she never wanted Beetlejuice to let her go. “I really need you tonight. Forever's gonna start tonight.” He lowered them back down to the table.

“Forever’s gonna start tonight,” He whispered in her ear as he pulled her against his chest.

“Once upon a time, I was falling in love. But now I'm only falling apart. Nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart,” She all but cried into his chest. “Once upon a time, there was light in my life. But now there's only love in the dark. Nothing I can say. A total eclipse of the heart.”

The pair didn’t hear the four finishing off the song as Beetlejuice kissed (Y/n) deeply, emotions pouring off of both of them. Once the world seemed to come back into focus, (Y/n) looked up into his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” She whispered, more tears threatening to spill. He cradled her face in his hands.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he wiped the tears away with his thumb. “I’m not going to let you fall again. I promise.”

#beetlejuice #michael keaton #beetlejuice x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #also has matilda

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savvyscribbleswriting · 4 months ago

Text

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine (specifically worst!Wolverine) x fem!Reader with a bit of Wade thrown in

Summary: You’re a theatre actress who got passed on a role in a local production of Beetlejuice: The Musical. However, when the tide turns in your favor, Logan is there for you every step of the way.

Word Count: 3.2k

Genre: Fluff

Additional Tags/Warnings: mentions of a theatre diva doing theatre diva things; some crude language and suggestive situations; no use of (Y/N)

Author’s Note: This is for all the theatre girls out there.

P.S. I intended this to be a sequel to my previous story, “Everything Happens for a Reason" (link here). However, it could also be read by itself.

P.P.S. I DO NOT OWN BEETLEJUICE: THE MUSICAL!!! I ALSO DO NOT OWN ANY PERSON/PLACE/THING THAT IS WITTILY REFERENCED, PARTICULARLY BY WADE WILSON!!!

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It had been about three weeks since you were rejected for a part in a local production of Beetlejuice: The Musical. In that time, you auditioned for dinner theatre (which you didn’t hear back from) and participated in a staged reading of a new play by a kid fresh out of college who thought he was really contributing something to the conversation surrounding sexism. You couldn’t complain too much, though. Theatre was still your passion and any experience was better than none at all. Plus, there was Logan.

Logan always gave his full support when it came to your theatre work. He went over lines with you until they were perfect. He patiently waited as you stalked the library’s drama section for the perfect audition piece. He even sat in the front row of the staged reading without a glass of alcohol touching his lips, even though he definitely could’ve used it because “this kid can’t write for sh-,” just so he could be sober and pay close attention to you giving it your all. He loved you that much, and you loved him for it.

After a long night of expressing your love, you found yourselves sleeping in on a Saturday. Suddenly, your phone began to ring. You tried to reach it but found yourself getting pulled back by Logan, who held you firmly against his chest as he tried to keep his eyes closed and return to sleep. You tried again, managing to break free long enough to reach for your phone on your nightstand. As soon as you had it, you melted back into Logan.

“Hello?” you answered groggily. You suddenly shot up, which surprised Logan. He slowly made himself sit up next to you. His brain was still waking up, though, so he couldn’t pick up much of your conversation with his super-hearing. All he could gather was the random “yes” and “okay” and “thank you” from you. You eventually hung up.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked.

You then squealed so loud it fully woke Logan up. It took him a full minute to recover, during which time you jumped out of bed and fished for something to wear, first from the floor and then your closet. You were mumbling to yourself all the while about schedules and memorization methods. Logan could only stare at you in shock. What the hell?

He finally got up and slowly approached you. You had finally found an outfit but were now worried about matching accessories. “Hey, hey, hey!” he said, getting louder each time to make sure he was getting through to you. It worked - you stopped in your tracks and looked up at him with wide eyes. “What?” you asked innocently.

“What’s got you so worked up?”

“Nothing!” you said, then backtracked. “Well, I mean, not nothing. But nothing bad! Good! Really good! Actually, honestly, probably the best thing ever!” You moved again, this time going to your dresser for your jewelry box. You didn’t stop to see if Logan was following you before you continued.

“You know that audition for Beetlejuice I did a while back?” you spoke rapidly as you tried on this and that. “Well, turns out the woman they chose to play Delia is a total diva! They said she was late, not paying attention during rehearsals, not taking constructive criticism, and being rude to the other cast members. She even threatened to have the woman playing Barbara recast! Can you believe that?! They finally decided to fire her this morning. The director and stage manager remembered me from auditions and they called to ask if I would step in! They want me at the theater today to start rehearsing. They go up in a month and said that even though they can’t have any extra rehearsals for me, they’re pretty confident I can- damn this necklace!” In your haste to tell your story, you were finding it difficult to clasp one of your favorite necklaces.

“Sweetheart? Sweetheart?” Logan’s voice finally broke through as he slowly turned you around to face him. “Breathe.” You did as you were told, feeling so much better afterwards. Logan was right, you really were worked up.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assured you. He then took the necklace out of your hands. “Here, let me.” He took it back around you and clasped it with ease. He stood behind you and looked at you in the dresser mirror. “You are so beautiful,” he said against your head, giving it a kiss. “And I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” you replied, taking in the moment. You then asked, “Do you think I can do this?”

“Of course! You are so talented. You’re going to be great at this.”

You nodded to yourself. “You’re right.” You craned your head backwards to give him a soft kiss.

“Now, let me find my own clothes and I’ll drive you to the theater.”

“Okay,” you said, making your way out of the bedroom. “I’ll heat us up some PopTarts.”

“You’re gonna need way more energy than that. I figure we can stop by and pick up some of those breakfast sandwiches from that cafe you like so much.”

“You treat me like such a queen, Logan!”

Logan chuckled. You were his queen. And soon, you were going to be gracing the stage.

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

After Logan dropped you off with a quick kiss and “all the best” (he knew by now to careful with the words ‘good luck’), you braced yourself and stepped inside the theater. The director and stage manager reintroduced themselves and quickly went around showing you off to all the cast members and most of the tech people. At this point in the process, all the staging had been done and most of the musical numbers were choreographed. The director said that the best course of action was to go through the show from start to finish that day, add you into as many scenes as possible/necessary, and then teach you the music and choreography within the next few rehearsals. He also asked you to stay behind afterwards so the costumer and makeup artist could go over outfits and looks.

You were so concentrated on saying the lines right, taking down direction, and asking/answering quick questions to the best of your ability that it was time to go home before you knew it. It felt like you had been there all day rather than a few hours. Logan was parked right outside when you stepped out into the real world.

“So, how’d it go?” he asked as you got in.

“I think it went well,” you answered. “Honestly it all went by so fast that I didn’t have that much time to really get to know everyone and everything, or even enjoy the moment, you know?”

“Don’t worry. I know you. You’ll settle in and be fine.”

“I hope so,” you mumbled under your breath.

Fortunately, you had nothing to worry about.

After a few rehearsals, you finally found your place amongst the company. You quickly memorized your lines, music, and choreography, and performed it all close to perfection. The cast was so amazed at your progress, and they were all the sweetest of people. It didn’t take long for you to be chatting and laughing with them in-between scenes and even meeting up after rehearsals for drinks and karaoke every now and then.

You couldn’t have gotten here, though, without some help from your boyfriend and his ADHD-coded roommate, Wade Wilson. Every night, they would meet with you to go over lines, music, and dancing. Logan was so patient when you forgot a line and stayed with you until you got it all right five times in a row. Wade was a great DJ when you needed to practice your singing and dancing, although more than once he would play something else on purpose to see if it would sync up (“Like the Macarena or Dark Side of the Moon!”). They would trade off giving you rides to the theater and back. They made sure you had plenty of snacks during rehearsal breaks. They just wanted to see you happy and succeed. You were so lucky to have them by your side.

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Wade and Logan arrived at the theater about 30 minutes before showtime. Wade fiddled with the black-and-white striped tie he got for the occasion while Logan held tightly to the big bouquet of flowers he got you. No matter how many performances they saw in support of you, they often felt out of place amongst the other patrons, a lot of whom had way more experience in theatre than the two of them did put together.

Once they got their complimentary tickets from the box office (courtesy of you), they took a good look around the big theater space. It was obvious that the company was doing pretty well for itself since the lobby had all sorts of spooky decorations strewn about the place to get people excited for the show. There were cobwebs, insects, skeleton bones, fake copies of The Handbook for the Recently Deceased, and even a life-sized coffin that people could step in and take pictures with. Of course, Wade immediately dragged Logan towards it and took plenty of pictures to send to you.

You were backstage putting on the finishing touches to your makeup when you received a plethora of pictures from Wade. He was doing every kind of pose he could possibly fit into the coffin. Most of Logan’s pictures featured a scowl and half-hearted attempts at the same poses. However, the last photo featured Wade and Logan giving genuine smiles. You didn’t want to spoil them with what you looked like for your first scene, so you simply texted back, “You two make such a cute couple! I hope you enjoy the show! 😊”

The doors of the theater soon opened. Wade insisted on getting a show-themed cocktail before entering, though. “For the ‘gram!” he exclaimed, quickly getting in line to the concession stand that doubled as a bar. Logan just rolled his eyes and followed everyone else inside. He stayed back for a moment for Wade, taking in the stage as he waited. It was fixed to look like a cemetery with tombstones, flat wooden trees in the back, a bit of fog coming from either side, and the iconic “Betelgeuse” sign shining brightly from above.

You had managed to snag some good spots in one of the center rows next to an aisle opening - Logan was pretty big and Wade was fidgety so they appreciated the space. They soon got settled in and flipped through the program. They immediately went to your picture and profile, which gave the usual spiel about your experience in theatre and any thanks you wanted to give. Towards the end, you wrote, “Wade, your energy and carefree nature inspired my version of Delia. Logan, I love you with all of my heart.”

You were still backstage during this time, not needing to be anywhere near the stage for a good while. You found yourself doing anything while you waited – double-checking your makeup, hair, and costume, going through your props in your head, going over certain pages in your script, and even fiddling with all the stuff laid out before you in your tiny corner of the women’s dressing room. The woman playing Barbara, Teresa, could sense your nervousness and sat herself down next to you.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Honestly? My stomach is tied up in knots. I’ve done this so many times before with so many other shows, you’d think I’d be used to the feeling.”

“I think it’d be a problem if you weren’t feeling this way. It means you care and want to do a good job, which you totally will! You are so awesome!”

You found your smile matching hers. “Thanks. You’ll be great, too. You and Blake are so cute together!”

Teresa blushed and you shot her a knowing look.

Soon, the lights began to dim and the big sign was raised until it disappeared. The show was about to start, which made everyone clap with excitement. The voice of Beetlejuice boomed out of the speakers to remind everyone to silence their phones, not take any pictures or videos, walk to the nearest exit in case of an emergency, and enjoy the show.

“Oh, I hope they play ‘HOT TO GO!’” Wade whispered to Logan.

“Shut up,” Logan responded through a gritted smile. Wade tsk’ed in response before taking a sip of his cocktail.

After another round of applause, the lights went down completely.

It was finally showtime.

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

Once you came out for curtain call, Logan and Wade jumped out of their seats.

“Way to go, baby!” Wade yelled before giving a great big wolf whistle. Logan didn’t even bother scolding him for his etiquette; he just paid attention to you taking your bow and blowing a big kiss in his direction. You held hands with Teresa and Blake and took one last bow as a company.

Tonight was a good show, and you played your part perfectly. Logan wasn’t surprised.

As you made your way backstage to take the long way around to the lobby, Wade and Logan slowly made their way outside where everyone else was waiting. After some of the ensemble came out, you made your entrance and were immediately bombarded with various people congratulating you and telling you how much they loved the show and/or you. You smiled politely and thanked them before scanning the room for your boys.

“MS. DELIA!!!” you suddenly heard. You whipped your head around to see Wade waving his hands wildly over his head on the opposite side of the room. “MS. DELIA!!! OVER HERE!!! COME GRACE YOUE BIGGEST FANS WITH YOUR PRESENCE!!!”

You shook your head at the same time as Logan, him from embarrassment and you from amusement. You slowly made your way over to them, still getting congratulations every now and then. When you finally made it over, you were pounced on by Wade. He lifted you off the ground and began squealing in your ear. “There she is! My little starlet! You were amazing! And all your outfits ‘ate and left no crumbs,’ as my fellow Gen Z’ers say.”

“Thank you,” you said as best as you could. It was pretty hard to talk when Wade was pressing your face so hard into his chest. You eventually broke free and turned to Logan, who had the loveliest bouquet of flowers extended towards you. “Oh, Logan, thank you!” you exclaimed. Now it was your turn to wrap someone in an impossibly tight hug. Logan welcomed it and whispered in your ear, “You deserve it and more. You were great up there.” You granted him big, deep kiss for that compliment.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Wade said, gently splitting you two up. “Easy there, love birds. Let’s make sure we stick to what the intimacy coordinator laid out for us.”

Logan’s middle finger to Wade was short-lived when he heard someone calling your name. It was Teresa, who was beckoning you over to get a photo with her, Blake, and some other people who looked like family members.

“I’ll be right back,” you said. “Please try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”

“No worries, pumpkin,” Wade assured you. “The fight choreographer didn’t plan for this part of the story.”

You shot one last look to Wade and gave a parting kiss to Logan before trotting over to the group with your flowers. As soon as you got by her side, Teresa whispered, “Is that Logan? THE Logan?” You nodded, and she shot you a suggestive look that made you giggle. You two quickly turned to focus on the cameras in front you. Wade and Logan watched you in awe. You looked so happy and in your element amongst your castmates.

“She’s great, isn’t she?” they heard someone ask. They turned to see that it was Beetlejuice… or rather Robbie, the guy who played Beetlejuice. He continued as he looked on at you with a smile, “I mean, some of us weren’t sure about her, but your girl really stepped up to the plate. She’s so talented. And she’s just the sweetest, cutest thing!”

Logan cocked an eyebrow at this kid who seemed to be ogling his girl. “I know,” he said, moving in front of Wade to stick out his hand. “I’m Logan. Her boyfriend.”

Robbie’s smile remained as he shook it without a care in the world. “Oh, I know all about you! She mentioned one night how she couldn’t join us for drinks because her wonderful, supportive, strong, rugged boyfriend was going to treat her to Chinese dinner and trash TV.”

Logan’s jaw hung open in shock. Yes, he did do that for you. But why did Robbie know that? And what did he sound excited about that?

“She talks about you almost all the time,” Robbie went on. “She says that you were a big part of why she was able to memorize everything so quickly. You are just the best to her, and I can see why. You seem like a cool dude.”

Logan was stunned. You really meant that much to him, and other people saw it, acknowledged it, even accepted it. What could he say to that? “Umm… thank you.”

Robbie nodded before averting his gaze to Wade. He gasped. “You must be Wade! She’s talked a lot about you, too!”

“All bad things, I bet,” Wade said, stepping in front of Logan to take the spotlight. Logan would never admit it out loud, but he was honestly grateful. He took a few steps back to lean against the wall.

In the blink of an eye, you were back by his side.

“Hey, you alright?”

Logan regained himself. “Yeah. Met Beetlejuice.”

“Oh, Robbie! I thought that’s who that was. He’s such a great guy. And he’s gay.”

Logan whipped his head around. You smirked. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you getting all territorial a moment ago. Besides, even if I was a guy, I don’t think I’m his personality type. He tends to go for the weird ones.”

You both looked back at Wade and Robbie, the former blushing at the latter’s laughter at some stupid, probably highly inappropriate, joke. You giggled at the sight as Logan shook his head in surprise.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“I forgive you,” you assured him. You quickly turned away. “Besides, you’re pretty hot when you’re jealous.”

“Is that right?” he asked, pulling you back by your chin and giving you that look that made you go weak in the knees. Logan didn’t even wait for you to respond before pulling you in for another deep kiss.

“Seriously?!” Wade exclaimed. “Am I going to have to call HR on you two?”

You shooed Wade away, never taking your lips away from Logan.

It was one of many kisses you two shared that night.

You kissed on the way to the bar for the after party.

You kissed in-between bites of wings and fries.

You kissed after doing some karaoke with Teresa and Blake.

You kissed as you watched Wade and Robbie sing “What is This Feeling?”

You kissed in-between turns at pool.

You kissed on the way back home.

You kissed as you tumbled into bed together.

You kissed before you went to sleep.

And you kissed after every Beetlejuice performance.

Of course Logan was going to attend every show. After all, he loved you and was your biggest fan… next to Wade.

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

Author’s Note 2: Electric Boogaloo: Thank you so much for making it to the end! I ask that you NOT post this story as your own, please. Instead, give it a like/review/bookmark/reblog/all of the above wherever you read it.

Archive of Our Own

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fridgefeet · 4 months ago

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Jude is from a story called Rage Damsel that I spoke more on in Delia's reference. If you'd like to learn a little more about it, take a look at that description as well!

Jude is a co-worker of Delia's at an alternative clothing store called Obfuscated Adolescence, having the same job title as her (a co-assistant manager), a job he has recently learned he won't have in a year, given the mall the store is located inside of is closing.

Some notes on his design: He's perfected that "wearing 10 makeup products, but it looks like he's wearing none" sort of natural look, his eyeliner is the only exception since people tend to notice that. Related to this, he has more freckles, but he covers up all but the ones on the bridge of his nose. As noted in the reference itself, his "red" eye is actually just a color contact lens, and the white streaks in his hair are dyed.

Oh also, his left ear's earring (the dagger) isn't actually floating... logically it must have a little silver hook or something like that (even if I didn't draw it that way :P).

#character design #ref sheet #reference sheet #all art #fully finished #original #rage damsel #jude valentine #2025 #csp

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bjfinn · 1 month ago

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BEETLEJUICE AT THE CAA ED MIRVISH THEATRE

Notes on the tour performance of 3 July 2025

All right, since so many people (2 lol) have asked me for my thoughts on the Beetlejuice: The Musical performance that I attended on Thursday, here goes!

First off, the show was absolutely wonderful -- better than I'd expected! The entire cast was at the top of their game, the set design was exactly as I'd seen in the many, many, many videos I've seen online (lol), the lighting, the music and sound effects, the pacing ... everything was just perfect.

CAST

• Justin Collette was Beetlejuice, and he was superb as usual. Alex is the gold standard imo, but Justin's performance is fantastic, and you can tell that he's still having a blast with the role.

• Madison Mosley played Lydia -- Toronto was her national tour debut. I hadn't heard of her, but she definitely impressed -- her voice is just so pure, full of innocence and emotion. She's one to watch.

• Will Burton and Megan McGinnis were brilliant as Adam and Barbara -- they almost made me forget about Rob and Kerry. Almost!

• Jesse Sharp and Sarah Litzinger as Charles and Delia were hilarious together, and the scene where father and daughter reconcile was beautifully done.

• The rest of the cast, as well, were wonderful in their roles -- the only ones I didn't like were Maxie and Maxine Dean. Not because of the actors (they both did a fantastic job), but because of the characters -- they're not meant to be likeable, though, so kudos to Travis Mitchell and Maria Sylvia Norris for keeping them that way! Very fine actors both.

CHANGES

• This being Canada, the "gay Republican" line was changed to "gay Conservative", of course.

• The Maitlands die by electrocution trying to wire up the mobile on the baby crib. (This seems to be the most popular alternative for the tour -- after all, not every stage has a trapdoor, and it's not as if the way they die matters to the story.)

• The sandworm only ever showed its tail -- we never saw the iconic head. (That was a wee bit of a disappointment, but I'm sure there was a good reason -- maybe it got damaged, or maybe it was just a "let's do something different" situation? No idea, but it worked well enough.)

• Otho was put in stocks, not strapped to the Wheel of Death, and the skeleton crew wheeled him offstage.

• When Beej returned to save the day, he wasn't riding the sandworm; he returned through the doorway to the Netherworld, followed by the sandworm's tail, which wrapped itself around Juno and pulled her through -- somehow leaving her leg behind. (I don't know how that was supposed to have happened, but at least they didn't have to cut the "now we both have dead moms" line!)

AUDIENCE

The audience was well behaved (no Lauren Boberts!) and enthusiastic in their laughter and applause -- and at the end of the performance I was moved to tears when we gave the performers a standing ovation. I can only imagine how thrilling it must be to give your all and be rewarded like that. 🥹

Rating: 10/10

My only (very minor) regret was that I was sitting on the wrong side of the theatre -- I would've loved to have been the one Justin directed the "this guy knows what I'm talking about" jokes at! (And I also regret not being able to take in another performance of the show while I was there.)

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice musical #bjtm #bjtmtmtm #beetlejuice musical tour #review #theatrical review #musical review

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rtfics · 11 months ago

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Seeing BJ2 the 3rd time.

LONG & FILLED WITH SPOILERS

SO much to think about, and my memory is shit.

I rapidly scribbled notes during the film. But when I got home and tried to read them:

So here's an overview. I'll post other details if I ever translate my notes.

First, the casting was perfection. I'd never seen Jenny Ortega, Justin Theroux, and Monica Bellucci before, so for me they were the characters.

It was interesting that the film opens with the Warner Brothers Studio lot in black & white. Why B&W? It sort of sets the tone.

Donna Summer singing lines from "MacArthur's Park" was a foreshadowing. This film was made by a guy who was a teen in the 70s, and it's for others his age (he's only 2 years older than me). BJ2 is packed with 70s nostalgia that only those who were alive then would get.

This sequel was also made for die-hard fans of the original Beetlejuice. Burton took special care to give us the Winter River we love, but updated it to show the story and its characters aren't stuck in the past. The covered bridge is there, the church, cemetery, Miss Shannon's, and fire station are there, and so is the Maitland's building, but it's a coffee shop now.

Seeing Lydia as shell-shocked and pill-popping threw me, but the plot gave it sense (I'll go into detail in a separate post).

Rory, OMFG, I've known Rory. Anyone who's had anything to do with the entertainment/media biz, even peripherally, knows Rory. His "enabler" bullshit was so spot-on; faking that he's going to get Lydia off her dependency on drugs while keeping her hooked by making it seem that he's doing it because she's begging him. Classic user methodology. You just know he's the one who got her on "coping" pills in the first place; all the better to manipulate her. I loathed him immediately.

I adore what they did with Delia. It completely fucking made sense, and followed what's happened in the modern NYC Arts scene. I love how she and Lydia now get along, I mean, shit, Lydia's in her 50s and Delia's in her 70s, they're both middle-aged women, and, bless their hearts, the screenwriters and Burton made them act like grown women.

Astrid seemed older than 16 to me, but hey, I'm not around teenagers these days. I appreciated that she wasn't a brat. Her resentment and having her back up were appropriate for her family situation; a beloved father whose body was never found (I think); a mom always working or promoting because of Rory, doped on pills and famous for being a ghost-seeing nutjob, who can't see Astrid's father. That's a lot to deal with.

The way they handled Charles was perfect, especially his claymation demise. His afterlife body was comically gross, and an ingenious way of including Charles in the film without having to recast another actor, except for his voice. Charles being in the Netherworld provides a great thread to Delia's later death. His headstone being the shape of a shark's fin was a humorously grim touch.

The Sylvia Young Theatre School Choir sang at Charles' funeral, and their voices were beautiful.

Arthur Conti was fantastic as Jeremy (70s teens remember his grandfather, Scottish actor Tom Conti). His American accent was flawless. He was the perfect balance of cute and mature, and his niceness made his being evil all the worse; while Astrid says the incantation you can see him slightly out of focus behind her, smiling in a chilling way. I love that there isn't the slightest hint that he's a multiple murderer, and of his own parents! When he's about to get his passport stamped he shows absolutely no remorse toward Astrid, which makes his damnation all the sweeter.

Beetlejuice . . . . What can I say? Michael Keaton created Beetlejuice as we know him, and he fit right back in character as easily as drawing breath. His body language, his weird way of walking, his expressions, everything is just as you'd expect Beej to be. But then we get to see more! I can't express how happy I was to see Beej's origin story, which turned the throw-away line about having a pretty good time during the Black Death into something more substantial. Seeing Keaton as human Beej was a delight.

An important detail was that, even though Beej says his heart had long since withered, he fell for Delores. He says he was "bewitched." Perhaps not love, but lust certainly. It's quite clear that Delores was much higher in social station than Beetlejuice, so he must have thought he'd won the lottery with her choosing him. My god, his ego had no problem with his drunken ass being hauled to bed by his new wife, and his enthusiasm was huge. I love that they gave him the gut in his human form (Keaton doesn't have one).

Richard was the nice guy I hoped he would be. But it was telling that, when he says goodbye to Lydia at the ladder in the mausoleum, they don't hug. They don't even shake hands. It shows the truth of Lydia's previous statement to Astrid that she and Richard's relationship had ended long before his death.

Wolf is every 70s crime drama/movie distilled. Hammy, over the top, constantly spouting his Catch Phrase.

Why are there so many shrunken head guys? And why did Beej hire people who can't talk to answer his phones? It's loony and fits the Netherworld random logic. They're Beej's Minions.

I've seen a lot of people on tumblr, as well as professional movie critics, say there were "too many villains" and that the plot was "too hard to follow."

For those who agree with this, I recommend you never attempt to read anything by Charles Dickens, Alexandre Dumas, Victor Hugo, Edgar Allan Poe's detective stories, or Agatha Christie. Because your brains would fry.

Look, there are two villains. Just two.

Delores poisoned Beetlejuice, he killed her with an axe in revenge, in the Afterlife she reassembles and hunts him down, killing others in her wake, which sets Wolf Jackson and the Ghoul Squad after her, until she's defeated with a sandworm.

Rory has been manipulating Lydia, keeping her doped, gas-lighting her, until under the Truth Serum injected by Beej he spills the beans and Lydia rejects him, until he's eaten at the same time as Delores by the sandworm.

As for "Delores and Rory weren't given enough story," what more do you want? How Delores joined a soul-sucking cult? How Rory became a user, seeking out vulnerable, grieving women to exploit? We learn as much as we need to. Anything more would have stuffed the film with unnecessary crap.

The only shit I didn't care for was the baby.

The whole Counseling scene was a big gross-out, and I'm sure Tim Burton intended it that way. The original couldn't have been more gross than it was or it would have earned an R Rating, keeping out everyone under the age of 18 (21 in some states; this was the 80s). But now, Burton could be a lot more graphic. I was stunned that he had Lydia go through the "pregnancy," but it obviously didn't hurt her. For me Babyjuice has no point. It doesn't advance the plot, and its reappearance only drives home the weirdness of the ending.

What the ever fuck was the ending??

Especially Astrid giving birth to the Beetlebaby. It would suggest Beetlejuice is its father, which means he and Astrid had sex. Which we can be pretty sure they didn't . . ? In the counseling scene Beej refers to the baby as his "inner child." So its not his literal child? Even so, why would Astrid give birth to it the same way her mother did?

I've read all the theories about the ending, and at this point one's as good as the other. Perhaps that's the point: To keep us all guessing. Because I'm sure, all along, there's been a plan for Beetlejuice 3, IF this movie was a hit. If it wasn't, if it bombed (since 2010 all of Burton's films have bombed), the ending would lead to speculation forever, to people writing fucking dissertations about its symbology and metaphors, etc.

But if it was a hit, which it is, the seeds are there for a third and final film. But so fucking murky no one can guess what it'll be like.

The only part of the ending I liked was Beej shaking awake and saying, as he glances at Lydia, "I just had the weirdest dream." And Lydia looking over. Not terrified. Not screaming or leaping out of bed. Not seeing the indentation in the pillow and yelling in protest. Just staring.

Do I want a third film?

I love Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. I love it more every time I watch it. I accept everything in it as canon, even the baby, resentfully.

But Burton might fuck up the last one. He might do things I never wanted to be canon. When a sequel is made of a hit film, the creators sometimes become self-conscious. BJ2 wasn't, because it'd been 36 years since the original. They had no idea whether this version would fly. Since it has, massively, I'm afraid the screenwriters and Burton may become too aware of the audience and try to cater to it. OR they'll go the opposite direction and try to come up with a plot they think fans would never imagine.

So I'm pretty much stuck in the same place I was before I saw Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. Wary, skeptical, and cynical.

#Beetlejuice Beetlejuice #beetlejuice #Beetlejuice 2 #Beetlejuice sequel #Beetlejuice 2 review sort of #Michael Keaton #winona ryder #jenny ortega #catherine o'hara #justin theroux #monica bellucci #willem dafoe

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medium-observation · 11 months ago

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September Release!

The Lord of the Rings - Chicago Shakespeare Theater

August 28, 2024 (Matinée) - Medium Observation

Video

Cast:

Spencer Davis Milford (Frodo), Michael Kurowski (Sam), Lauren Zakrin (Galadriel), Ben Mathew (Pippin), Will James Jr. (Aragorn/Strider), Tom Amandes (Gandalf), Tony Bozzuto (Gollum), Alina Taber (Arwen), Eileen Doan (Merry), Matthew C. Yee (Boromir), Justin Albinder (Legolas), Ian Maryfield (Gimli), Jeff Parker (Elrond/Saruman), Rick Hall (Bilbo Baggins/Steward), Suzanne Hannau (Rosie Cotton), John Lithgow (Voice of Treebeard), Joey Faggion (Ensemble), Mia Hilt (Ensemble), James Mueller (Ensemble), Jarais Musgrove (Ensemble), Hannah Novak (Ensemble), Adam Qutaishat (Ensemble), Laura Savage (Ensemble), Bernadette Santos Schwegel (Ensemble), Ty Shay (s/w Ensemble), Luke Nowakowski (s/w Ensemble)

Notes:

Fantastic capture of this incredibly immersive and beautiful production. there is a bar in the bottom right corner of the screen that doesn't take away except for one moment where Gandalf and Frodo are talking on the stairs in act one, but overall I worked around it and you can always see Frodo and sometimes Gandalf. At points people are in the audience and I wasn't able to capture them but you can always hear them and I do my best to always try to make sure to capture anything in the audience that I could. Some washout and shakiness throughout.

NFT Date: March 1st, 2025

Screenshots: https://flic.kr/s/aHBqjBFvi6

Video is $20

Moulin Rouge! The Musical - First US National Tour

April 7, 2024 - Medium Observation

Video

Cast:

Christian Douglas (Christian), Nicci Claspell (u/s Satine), Amar Atkins (u/s Harold Zidler), Nick Rashad Burroughs (Toulouse-Lautrec), Andrew Brewer (The Duke of Monroth), Jordan Vasquez (u/s Santiago), Sarah Bowden (Nini), Renee Marie Titus (La Chocolat), Adea Michelle Sessoms (u/s Arabia), Max Heitmann (Baby Doll), Kamal Lado (Pierre), Tommy Gedrich, Tamrin Goldberg, Cameron Hobbs, Nathaniel Hunt, Chloe Rae Kehm, Melissa Hunter McCann, Luke Monday, Tanisha Moore, Kenneth Michael Murray, Elyse Niederee, Omar Nieves, Kent Overshown, Stefanie Renee Salyers, Connor McRory

Notes:

Really beautiful capture of Nicci, Amar and Jordan as Satine, Zidler and Santiago respectively. Some washout and shakiness throughout.

NFT Date: March 1st, 2025

Screenshots: https://www.flickr.com/gp/196227588@N02/a6RiV4g980

Video is $20

Beetlejuice - First US National Tour

June 30, 2024 - Medium Observation

Video

Cast:

Justin Collette (Beetlejuice), Isabella Esler (Lydia Deetz), Megan McGinnis (Barbara Maitland), Will Burton (Adam Maitland), Jesse Sharp (Charles Deetz), Sarah Litzsinger (Delia Deetz), Hillary Porter (Miss Argentina), Abe Goldfarb (Otho), Brian Vaughn (Maxie Dean), Maria Sylvia Norris (Maxine Dean/Juno), Madison Mosley (Girl Scout)

Notes:

Beautiful Capture of Abe, Larkin and Haley's last performance with the company. My camera was having a lot of issues for Act 1, 2 minutes is missing during ready set (still has audio), And then after every song there's a short 2 second blackout. Act 2 is perfect with no issues with my camera. Also the last US stop before a month break and then Mexico! Some washout and shakiness throughout.

NFT Date: March 1st, 2025

Screenshots: https://www.flickr.com/gp/196227588@N02/7B2h6860bv

Video is $18

Videos can be purchased through me at [email protected]

Discord Server: https://discord.gg/ZGMqkeb9p5

#mediumobservation #musical bootlegs #beetlejuice the musical #lord of the rings musical #moulin rouge

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laismoura-art · 7 months ago

Note

OKAY OK OKAY!!! I'll allow you to ramble, just to make you happy!!! Since we're both suffering-

FrozenBlossom. Now. Go crazy.

YEEEAAAAHHH!!! THANK YOU, GIRL!! OTP TIME!!! (Hope you're also having fun with your OTP💕)

❄️Frozenblossom!🌺

I couldn't decide if I would take this as an opportunity to develop them in my Umgadi Girls AU or to work on my rewrite of the Scorpion!Harumi AU. But since you said go crazy, I'm going crazy and doing ✨️BOTH!✨️

°.✦ Who said “I love you” first:

Scorpion!Harumi AU: Harumi!

Lisa wasn't confident enough to say it first cause Harumi was her first girlfriend so everything she felt for her was new so she had to put a name to her feelings before proclaiming them.

So when Harumi said she loved Lisa, her first reaction was to ask "how do you know? How does anyone know that?" And after Harumi explain thoroughly how she was feeling and how she knew what she was feeling, Lisa came to the conclusion: "Then I love you too."

Umgadi Girls AU: Also Harumi, lol!

Harumi is a perfectionist but she's also a very intense 18yo, who had just entered the world of dating and now has her first official girlfriend!

So when she realised her feelings she was fast to come clean about them. She did however make a HUGE deal about it! She planned a whole elaborated date just to prepare Lisa to what she had to say cause "that's a huge step in our relationship and it needs to be special. Memorable! PERFECT!" Meanwhile the other Umgadi girls were just hearing her out all like "girl, please, chill out..." lol!

°.✦ Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background:

Umgadi Girls AU: Harumi!

Lisa doesn't know what a phone is, lol! They use communicators like those from MK vs. DC! 🤭

Harumi takes monthly pictures of Lisa cause she likes to constantly change her wallpaper!

Scorpion!Harumi AU: Both!

Lisa's phone was exclusive a work phone, so when she and her brothers took over the Lin Kuei she took the liberty to use it more personally!

She asked Harumi what people usually use as wallpaper and Harumi said "pretty things" and "things you like!" So Lisa used the first picture they took together. Harumi complains she wasn't looking so good in that picture but Lisa loves it as it is!

Harumi uses a picture of Lisa and Satoshi together!

°.✦ Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror:

Scorpion!Harumi AU: Both!

Lisa can't stand warm baths so there's not a single ounce of fog from when she uses the bathroom, so Harumi uses her pyromancy to make the mirror foggy and writes the notes!

Lisa finds them cute and sometimes when Harumi is bathing (under a hottest water known to man) she sneaks in a quickly writes something too, but only sometimes cause Harumi's warm baths are the death of her!💀

Umgadi Girls AU: Lisa!

Harumi isn't a Pyromancer here so she can't create her own fog :( But she has said she finds it cute so Lisa writes to her (and since Harumi is not a Pyromancer here, her baths, though also hot, are regular hot and not "replicating hell" hot, lol!)

°.✦ Who buys the other cheesy gifts:

Scorpion!Harumi AU: Neither!

Their are VERY methodical in their gift shopping!

Umgadi Girls AU: Same here!

Though Lisa sometimes buys cheesy things by accident, lol!

°.✦ Who initiated the first kiss:

Umgadi Girls AU: Harumi!

Lisa wanted to but she wanted to be respectful to the Umgadi rules.

So Harumi had to assure her there was no harm to be done with a passionate kiss and the explanation that since Delia is not her Goddess she's not considered a true Umgadi to the Matrons Superior and therefore most their rules don't apply to her.

Usually, this "not a true Umgadi" thing pisses Harumi off, but she does feel some satisfaction when she gets to use this to bend the rules in her favour! >:)

Scorpion!Harumi AU: Lisa!

And then she panicked!

Cause what if she read the signs all wrong? What if Harumi hasn't moved on from Hanzo yet? What if she made things awkward? Or ruined their friendship?? What if Harumi wanted to leave after that?? What if Harumi hated the kiss? Or her??

She didn't want her to leave! Or hate her!

"I don't want you to hate me." She blunted out

And Harumi looked at her with her "You need therapy" expression, she knew there was a lot that needed to be addressed, but for Lisa's sake, for now she only settled with a "I could never hate you" and a loooooong kiss!

°.✦ Who kisses the other awake in the morning:

Scorpion!Harumi AU: Lisa!

Take one look at this WWE fighter and tell me Lisa doesn't look like a fitness overacchiever who wakes up with the sun, lmao!

Satoshi has ruined Harumi's sleep routine for long enough, now that he's a grown-up boy LET HER FIX HER ROUTINE >:O

Lisa understand of course and though she always kisses Harumi in the morning she never wakes her up!

Umgadi Girls AU: Lisa again!

She's a Multiversal overacchiever and early bird (even though her Animality is an owl, lol), let her be!

And this time she does get to wake Harumi up cause Li Mei starts her training session VERY early!🥲

°.✦ Who starts tickle fights:

Scorpion!Harumi AU: Harumi, but not with Lisa...

It's not because Lisa would indulge her, it's just that she's one of those people who doesn't tickle, and Harumi finds that infuriating, lol (especially cause she was tickle fight queen back when she was alive!)

But at least she got to have her tickle fights again when Satoshi was resurrected and she hosted major tickle fights for the kids in the Shirai Ryu Sanctuary!

Umgadi Girls AU: Same problem here, lol!

Plus, Lisa doesn't know what tickling is cause Dragonborns have thick skin and can't feel something like tickling!😅

°.✦ Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower:

Scorpion!Harumi AU: None!

They can't stand each other's baths, lol!

Umgadi Girls AU: Same here!

Though Harumi's bath is more bearable in here, Lisa still doesn't like it!

°.✦ Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch:

Scorpion!Harumi AU: Harumi!

Lisa doesn't know many dishes cause the Lin Kuei cuisine was very strict, so now Harumi brings the most diverse plates for her and her siblings to try out!

Umgadi Girls AU: Both!

Lisa loves to introduce all types of typical Dragonborn dishes to Harumi and Harumi always tries to replicate the Japanese cuisine, she has traded tons of potions with Kollector for his rare Earthrealm spices (that are just rare in Outworld, we're talking about basil, garlic and salt here, lmao)!

°.✦ Who was nervous and shy on the first date:

Umgadi Girls AU: Both!

They are both young and have zero to no dating experience!

Lisa has been courted before, but never been interested enough to take/be taken by her suitors to actual dates, Harumi was her first!

Harumi went on one date with a Matoka girl she met when she visited the USA but that's about it!

They were both very nervous and the Umgadi Girls had to divide and conquer to help these two!

The date turned out great!💕

Scorpion!Harumi AU: Both, but mostly Lisa!

First date nervousness again! Lisa was never allowed to take a girl on a date (nor that she had any girl to take on a date, she didn't like most Lin Kuei women. She only liked Cyrax and it was in a sibling way) so her daring experience was null!

Her siblings helped her out the best they could, though their dating experience was also null, lol!

Harumi managed better but she was still nervous cause she hasn't been on a date in years!

And though she knew she was not betraying her late husband’s memory, there was still that little intrusive voice on the back of her head. It helped that the ones helping her get ready were Satoshi and Alt!Hanzo!

°.✦ Who kills/takes out the spiders:

Umgadi Girls AU: None?

As a warrior of Cetrion, Harumi vowed to never harm one of her creatures unless it was for feeding, so she never harmed a spider (nor insects, so D'Vorah liked her right away, lol).

Lisa doesn't mind... the Outworld equivalent of spiders, but she doesn't like insects cause her people has had issues with Kytinn spies in the past! (D'Vorah had nothing to do with it)

Scorpion!Harumi AU: Similar enough!

Harumi likes spiders cause they kill the bugs that threaten her gardens!

Lisa doesn't mind spiders and doesn't hate insects all that much cause she hardly sees them in the cold Arctika!

°.✦ Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk:

For both AUs: No drinking in this household!

And Harumi doesn't need any substance to make her loudly proclaim her love for Lisa, lol!

@mikka-minns @thedragonholder

#harumi shirai #lisa liang #the one the only #the otp #frozenblossom #umgadi girls au #Scorpion!Harumi AU

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holly-louisexox · 1 year ago

Text

Ribcage X Andy Biersack- Part 25

Masterlist

"There's one thing you should know about me Delia Vincent, I don't date. Got no heart to break and emptiness is safe, keep it that way."

He was adamant in his choices...

...But then things changed.

Author's Note:

This part briefly mentions food and calorie/ serving measuring. I know food can be scary sometimes, but please try to remember that food is a friend and is good for us! I know it can be difficult and that's okay, my inbox is a safe space if ever you need a chat, please do not be scared to drop me a message.

-----------

Sam had overestimated the ability of his friend's fake ID making, he did not realise that a fake passport was much more complex than that of a normal ID card. 4 hours of working on the passport had then turned into a beer, which turned into multiple beers which then led him to falling asleep on his friend's sofa for the night. Granted he felt extremely bad for, what was her name? His beautiful soon to be bride? It did not matter to him now what her name was, for now, according to her passport her name was Sofia Michaelson and soon she would be Sofia Todd, there would be no way of anyone tracking her down. He did feel guilty that she had missed out on a meal but one meal would not hurt her, after all, the meals he was making for her he was measuring to be sure. He needed his future bride to be healthy. Not underweight, not overweight, not malnourished, not lacking any important vitamins. Sam had always wanted the perfect wife and perfect woman to mother his children, he had to do everything in his power to keep it so.

After parking his car on his driveway and turning off the engine, he felt a smile come to his lips. His plan had finally worked. He was finally going to get the most beautiful and submissive little wife to be by his side. Sure, things may not be perfect right away, but he would get her to love him. He would find a way to completely put out the fire that the woman had, hell, he had already started doing that. Maybe one day she would come to love him, but until then he had her, they'd be legally married on a piece of paper and he would be able to condition her to be his completely.

"Honey, I'm home!" Sam calls through the house as he walks in and shuts the front door behind him before walking up the stairs leading to the room he had kept her in. "I'm so sorry I was out so long, things took an unexpected turn, but don't you worry I didn't forget your period things."

Pulling out his keys once again, he grabs the key to the room before unlocking it. He loved nothing more than seeing his beautiful girl, just the mere thought that he had perfection in his own house made him beam brighter.

"I promise I'm going to-" He starts as he unlocks the door before stopping himself mid-sentence.

Instead of being met by his wonderful now Sofia, he glances upon the room that is now empty. The window was smashed, she must have jumped out. Going over to the window in the hopes that she was there he was met with the realisation that she had indeed fled. All that remained was a small trace of her blood on the smashed window. He had to hand it to her, she played a convincing case to him. He did not expect her to have done this. But now he had to find her. He could not let her go running back to the police, not after all his hard work. He could not let her go running back to the bastard that had tried phoning her so many times. What was his name again? Andy? No, She was his and his alone, he was not about to share his masterpiece with some idiotic emo looking guy who let her walk, she deserved better than that. Sam was convinced that he could provide her that better too if she just allowed him to.

"You little bitch!" Sam shouts at the smashed window before storming out of the room and back down the stairs.

Surely she could not have gotten far. She was injured. If the cut to her porcelain skin was not enough to slow her down, the fall from the window would have left its impact on her. He was determined to find her, even if it meant driving around the whole of Seattle.

--------

Every step that Delia took felt torturous. Climbing out of the window, she had managed to cut the side of her ribcage open, thankfully not deep enough that it bled for ages but enough to create a stinging sensation at every movement she made. She was convinced she had broken her left ankle from the fall, she had to try her hardest not to fall over every time she put weight on it and the pain was unbearable. Climbing the fence proved harder than she thought for too, especially with her newly busted-up foot. In the process of climbing, she had also managed to cut open her right leg. But alas, she managed to make it out and flee the house. She ended up spending the night on a bench in the park nearby, thankfully the trees and bushes surrounding it kept her hidden out of plain sight as she took the opportunity to lie down on it. She had no idea what time it was or even how long she had been missing, all she knew was that she was away from Sam and that was progress.

As she rested she was begging that Sam would not find her. She was also contemplating whether she would continue to move away from the location and find someone or anything that could help her or if she just rest her aching body, as she quickly watched the night fall over the sky above her, she decided that rest would be the better option. However sleep did not come to her that night, instead she was lying down shivering, paranoid by every rustle of the leaves and every sound she heard.

As the sun began to rise hours later, that's when she decided to start moving again. Maybe Sam would forget her and move on to someone else. No. She had to report him before he could do that. She could not let another woman fall into his arms. After an excruciating walk that must have taken her about an hour, it was probably a 20-minute walk but in her state took much longer, she finally stumbled upon a gas station; she was just glad to see that she was indeed still in Seattle, based on the signs that surrounded her. Maybe she could borrow someone's phone? She could contact the group and get herself some help.

"Excuse me" Delia politely smiles at a woman nearby.

"If you're wanting money, then no I don't have any to give. Have a nice day." The woman dismisses her before climbing into the car and driving off. Delia had not had a chance to check herself over but based on that reaction she must have looked terrible.

"Excuse me." Delia tries again, this time finding a man dressed in a suit.

"Can I help you miss?" He turns around smiling before his face drops as if he had seen a ghost. "My word, you're the girl on the news!"

"The news?" She asks confused.

"You've been missing for a few days, presumed to have been taken by the murderer, but how are you here? Am I going crazy?"

"No, I assure you you're not. I managed to escape." Delia tries to smile despite her pain "Could I please borrow your phone so I could call my friends? He took my phone from me."

"Yes of course dear. Although would you not be better off calling the police?" He smiles warmly at her.

"I just, I need to let my friends know I'm okay and tell them where I am first. I don't know how much time I have or if the guy who took me will find me again. Where are we exactly?" Delia begs.

"Yes, of course, we're at gas station 76, 10th Avenue." The man smiles before handing Delia his phone.

"Thank you." Delia breathes feeling a small sense of relief wash over her. Immediately she begins calling the one number of the group she had somehow memorised.

"Hello?" She hears through the phone after a few seconds of ringing, the smile instantly flooded her face hearing the familiar voice.

"Andy, it's Delia." She speaks back feeling calm just from knowing she was talking to Andy again.

"Delia?" Andy half shouts before she hears a thud and a muffled mumble of the word 'crap', she could guess he had dropped his phone in shock; not that she would blame him. "Guys, it's Delia."

"Delia? Where are you?" She then heard the voice of Shevy, Andy must have put her on loudspeaker.

"I'm at Gas Station 76 on 10th Avenue. I managed to escape, but I don't know how much time I have until he finds me, please hurry!" She begs through the phone.

"Okay I have the location up on my map, it's a 30-minute drive away!" Delia could then hear Jake, she could just imagine him pulling his phone out from his pocket and trying to be the tech nerd she knew he was.

"Okay, Delia, We'll be there as soon as we can. Try to hide out of plain sight if you can so the monster does not find you again. I'll look for you and call your name. Are you hurt?" Andy asks frantically as she then hears a lot of shuffling indicating that her friends are on the move to get to her.

"No, no I'm not. I'm okay." Delia lies. She could already hear the panic in Andy's voice, she did not want to worry him any more than he was.

"We'll be there soon okay? Please stay safe." Andy begs her.

"I will." She smiles, nodding even though she knew he could not see her, before ending the call and handing the guy his phone back. "Thank you."

"Well look, my car is just over there. I'll stay in the area until your friends are here to make sure you're safe." The man smiles before walking off; what he did not tell her was that he was also planning on phoning the police as soon as he got to his car. He could not just leave this woman for dead.

Sitting down on the footpath near the gas station all she could now do was wait, yet she was feeling hopeful. Her friends were on their way to come and pick her up, her wounds could get treated at the hospital and she would be safe. She was not sure how the time was passing her by, but eventually, she found herself smiling and humming 'The King of Pain' to herself; the song that Andy had silently dedicated to her on so many occasions. Yes, he had hurt her, but she also knew she ended up hurting him, and in this moment all she wanted was him. Surely she could give him a chance if she pulls through all the chaos. She's going to need to rely on her family and friends, she knew that, so why not start there?

"There you are!" Delia heard a familiar voice shout.

Shit, Sam had found her. All that hope she was feeling, all that joy passing through her body, it had suddenly dissolved into nothing.

#andy biersack #andy black #andy bvb #cc bvb #jake bvb #jake pitts #jinxx bvb #lonny bvb #lonny eagleton #black veil brides #bvb #black veil brides fanfic #bvb fanfic

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losers-clvb · 2 years ago

Text

slow burn // two

pairing: lucas samos x nymph!female!reader

summary of chapter: it's the welcome party before the wedding. y/n and lucas are, visually at least, the perfect couple. of course, they can't get along for longer than a few seconds and get into an argument about a certain prince.

content of chapter: arguing, the royal family makes an appearance

word count: 1.4k

note: this is a little bit of a shorter chapter, but the next will be much longer.

You would have thought that out of everything, Y/N would have had control over how she was dressed for her welcome party. At least, that’s what she had thought. She was wrong. Her mother chose her dress, chose how tight to lace up the corset, chose everything. It was a Prussian blue thing, with silver fabric peeking through on the skirt. It wasn’t completely hideous, though Y/N would never admit it. She was wearing heels and, even though she had told her mother that there was absolutely no way that anyone would be able to see her feet, they were just as elaborate. Y/N was never one to complain about wearing a heel and sometimes would rather wear them over anything else, but these were making her feet ache within just ten minutes of wearing them.

Nonetheless, she had a smile plastered on her face. She wouldn’t be anything but a blushing bride. Her parents would be a horror to deal with if she was any other way, and all it would do was embarrass her. She couldn’t be caught being rude or in any way cold towards any guests. There would be nobles and government officials there, allies that her’s and Lucas’ families would need if the time ever came. Plus, it didn’t look as if Lucas was uncomfortable. He had a beaming smile on his face as he stood close to her, one hand occasionally grazing her back in a show of comfort, the other used to shake the hands of their guests. The medals and ribbons on his jacket seemed to glint in the light, showing everyone who could see them just how awarded her fiancé was.

What they didn’t see was the tightening of her jaw every time she felt his hand graze her back. She knew it was just another way to convince everyone that the two were in love, a way to save both their reputations even if everyone knew that their families had arranged the union. It was better this way. Better that the two looked to be in love rather than forced to marry. Then maybe Y/N wouldn’t be looked down upon with pity for her situation.

She was lost in this thought, mind straying away from the present due to boredom and the horrible pain in her feet, when an announcement of the arrival of the royal family sounded. Her eyes snapped to the entrance. The first to walk in were the King and Queen, looking as handsome and beautiful as anyone their age. They donned the colors of their houses, the King in red and black with his crown of flames atop his head, the Queen with her dress of navy blue and white with her own crown. While Delia had never quite enjoyed the company of the Queen, her icy gaze always sending a shiver down the girl’s spine, she had to admit she was strikingly beautiful. The two royals made their way to the couple, the smiles on their faces obviously ingenuine.

“Congratulations on the union,” the King merely said, eyes gliding over the two young Silvers. In response they bowed their heads.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Lucas spoke. Y/N was suddenly much more aware of his hand resting on her waist along with the fact that the older couple standing in front of them seemed just as uncomfortable with each other as herself and Lucas. She knew they weren’t married because they loved each other, but she would have hoped that after being together for so long that they would have figured out a way to be happy with one another. The sight did little to make her optimistic that one day she could have a comfortable life. If even the Queen wasn’t happy with her partner, the king, how could she? Y/N watched as the two made their way through the party while greeting others they were closer with. Her eyes tore away as they disappeared into the crowd, only the tops of their crowns seen moving away.

She watched as the two princes entered, both wearing jackets with just as many, if not more, medals than Lucas. She was sure that they hadn’t earned them as Lucas had, but that wasn’t for her to discuss. Despite both of the boys being Burners, Maven seemed to be much colder. He still held a smile upon his face, but there was something… off. Maybe it was the fact that his mother was Elara, or just because Y/N was just closer with his older brother. Cal, the heir to the throne, had been one of the only people that hadn’t excluded her from groups. She had been told numerous times, from Cal’s uncle Julian, that the late queen Corianne, Cal’s mother, had taken a liking to Delia before her death. She had been too young to remember, but from the stories she had heard, the old queen seemed like a beautiful soul.

“Congratulations, Y/N/N.” Cal spoke directly to Y/N, a wide grin appearing on his face as he used the childhood nickname he had given her. They had grown apart as they had gotten older, but the nostalgia was still there. Y/N had been given more opportunities to find a husband or a career that would help the family move up in court. Cal had been given more jobs and responsibilities in a move to help him be prepared for the throne. Neither could or would do anything less than what was expected of them in fear of the backlash from their families. They weren’t in love, and it wasn’t as if Cal could have the luxury of choosing his wife anyways.

“Thanks,” Y/N replied simply before adding on, “Your Highness.” She bowed her head as she had with the King. Maven was slightly less pleasant to greet. His icy blue eyes were similar to his mother’s, so different from Cal’s. The way he looked at her reminded her of the way others would look at her in training when she could perform a simple movement of the water in front of her. It had been years since then, and Maven hadn’t been much older than four or five at the time, but it was as if he had been there himself. But it wasn’t as if the boy was evil, right? He was just a kid still, only seventeen.

It was then Y/N realized she hadn’t even acknowledged his presence. Before she could greet him, or even open her mouth, Lucas beat her to it. She had forgotten he was even there, too caught up in thinking of the past.

“And thank you, Prince Maven, for attending.” Lucas greeted the younger boy, a forced smile upon his face. Y/N thought it was strange that even such a dedicated soldier as Lucas couldn’t find a way to be comfortable with the prince. The only response the officer had gotten was a simple nod and hum, which made Y/N frown slightly. She looked back to Cal, only getting a small shrug with a smile before the two boys continued on into the crowd, following their father and Maven’s mother.

Y/N hummed in annoyance, feeling Lucas shake with quiet laughter at her discomfort from the interaction. She looked up to him, furrowing her brows when he looked back at her.

“You find it funny that the prince looks down upon us?” She asked him, making sure she kept her voice quiet. She bit her lip to keep herself from bursting out in frustration as she had the week before when they had seen each other last.

“He’s the prince, there’s not much I can do about it. And what I find funny is how much it bothers you.” Lucas replied, his voice just as low as hers. “He seems to make you almost as bothered as I do.”

“That’s not possible.” She sniped back with narrowed eyes, seeming to forget that others were around them.

“What is it about me that makes you so furious all the time?”

When Y/N didn’t answer him, he smiled softly. He tucked a strand of hair that had escaped her twisted hairstyle behind her ear, lowering his head to speak into her ear.

“Try to keep that smile on your face until the end of the party.”

He turned away from her, going to speak with one of his friends from his time in the army. He left her with a flushed face and a strange feeling in her stomach. A feeling that didn’t fade away even after her mother ushered her over to the wife of the head of House Rambos to talk of wedding details.

#lucas samos #red queen #x reader #cal calore #evangeline samos #imagines #killorn warren #lucas samos imagine #lucas samos series #lucas samos x reader

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