the-wrong-damn-way

[the-wrong-damn-way]

Happy Mother’s Day!

In which you buy a mug for Delia and a way out of the house for Barbara (+ Adam)

Yes, it’s past Mother’s Day, I know, but I forgot to post this. Sue me.

I miss them so much it’s not even funny anymore ;-;

You have been and always will be an artistic person.

Sometimes you considered it your downfall, though. You’d be scolded in school for doodling along the edges of your notebooks when you should’ve been taking notes or yelled at by your manager for drawing on the pages you should’ve been writing orders on. You can’t even recall the amount of times your father screamed at you for sewing together random scraps of cloth you managed to find around the house. So yes, it was hard to perceive your artistic nature as a good thing.

Today, however, you knew it was going to be different.

May 10th. Mother’s Day. A day where children celebrated their mothers and grandmothers, sometimes people who weren’t even related but saw them in a motherly figure anyways; a day where women were appreciated and loved by many. It should’ve been the day you were looking forward to this year especially, but your mother passed away less than a year ago.

In the few months you somehow befriended Lydia Deetz and her demon friend from hell, you were constantly at the Deetz-Maitland household. Whether it was just for dinner, or you were asked to watch over Lydia and Beetlejuice to make sure they didn’t make a mess in the house, or even to join in on a family game night, you felt yourself becoming a part of the weird family. And dear god, did you enjoy it.

When Lydia had finally convinced you to spend the night, she told you everything. From how she lost her mom to nearly killing herself in this very house, how she met the so-called ‘ghost with the most’ and he managed to brighten her days with stupid pranks and dumb jokes. The fun stuff she told you became dark, like how she accidentally began to exorcise Barbara because Beetlejuice tricked her and how she was forced to marry him, because it was a ‘green card’ thing for him; how she murdered someone in order to protect her family.

At first, you were angry because - and you told her this - she was taking everyone who wanted to be there for her for granted, but also mentioned that you understood. Grief does the dumbest shit to a person, always messing with a person’s mind, and Lydia chuckled at this. In return for her story about how she wound up in the small town of Winter Haven, Connecticut, you told her yours.

You explained to Lydia how you understood, because your mother had also passed away, around the same time hers did. You told her how your father barely looked at you because you resembled your mother so much that it hurt him to even toss a glance in your direction. You told her, with such a passion in your voice, to not take any of the people in her life for granted, because you just might lose them.

And then, when you told her how envious you were of her, having two sets of parents who loved her so dearly, Lydia embraced you and yelled loudly so that everyone could hear her, “We’re adopting them!”

Now here you stood on the old Victorian house’s front porch, a gift box in your hand with a headband wrapped around your wrist, the green lettering of Maitlands 2.0 popping against the white material. You knew that the Deetz wouldn’t leave the house on such a special day, so now was the perfect time to bring Delia and Barbara their gifts. You knocked on the door, practically bouncing on your feet, smiling brightly as Adam opened the door.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Adam greeted you with a smile in return. He stepped out of the doorway, allowing you entry as he held the door open for you. “Come on in!”

“Thank you,” you said as you stepped inside the foyer. “Are Delia and Barbara here?” The ghost nodded, gesturing towards the kitchen.

“They’re watching over Charles and Lydia as they cook,” he answered, closing the door behind you. “Don’t want them to burn the house down.” You chuckled and he led the way to the kitchen.

You couldn’t help the laughter that left your lips as you noticed the chaos that was ensuing. Barbara and Delia were hovering over Lydia and Charles’s shoulders, trying to step in at points to help only for them to be pushed away, left to suffer as they were denied their help to make dinner for tonight. Lydia and her father glanced over their shoulders, smiling at you before turning back to face their task at hand.

“Hi, Y/N!” Lydia greeted, carefully cutting a lemon in half.

“Hey, Lyds,” you returned the greeting, setting your gift for Delia on the kitchen table. Barbara and Delia stepped away from current chefs in the kitchen, walking towards you. You reached Delia first and she pulled you into a hug.

“Well hey there, girlie!” The red-haired woman welcomed you, patting your back in a motherly gesture. You could’ve sobbed right then and there, but you held your composure, returning the hug.

“Hi, Delia. Great to see you again,” you told her, and unlike Lydia who happened to lie about it sometimes, you weren’t lying. It felt great to just be in the household, better so when everyone treated you like a member of the family. Delia released you and stepped out of the way, allowing Barbara to hug you.

“Hey, Y/N,” the blonde addressed you. Where Delia’s hug was more friendly and suffocating, though you didn’t mind it, Barbara’s was gentle and kind. With her, you felt as if you could’ve melted into her touch, loving the motherly affection she gave off. You knew that the Maitlands wanted a child, but since they died, that was off the table for them. You figured they saw you as their own, and you welcomed the feeling.

“Hi, Barbara.” You pulled away reluctantly but held onto the one of the ghost’s hands, your smile brightening as you glanced around the room. “I know I came over with no heads up, but thank you for allowing me.”

Adam brushed it off, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s nothing, kiddo.”

“Of course!” the life coach exclaimed, taking your empty hand in hers.

“You’re always welcome here, you know that,” Barbara finished for Delia.

You grinned, gripping their hands tighter. “Happy Mother’s Day!” Both of them pouted before pulling you into a big hug, and you laughed as their grip tightened.

“You’re so sweet!” Barbara stated, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Awe, thank you, Y/N!” Delia squealed, and you let out a few giggles.

“I have gifts for both of you!” You announced, pulling out of their grips. You grabbed the box that you placed on the table earlier, holding it out to Delia. “You first, Delia.” She covered her mouth dramatically, before placing a hand on her chest.

“For me?” she questioned, and you nodded. Slowly, she took the box and ripped the wrapping paper off.

Delia opened the box and you smiled anxiously, your fingers fiddling with each other in attempts to calm down. A calloused hand was placed on your shoulder, and you turned to see Adam giving you a reassuring grin. You grinned back and returned your gaze to Delia, watching as she pulled out the mug you had made for her. She gasped and turned it around, admiring the white coat of paint, reading the quote you painted on in an amethyst purple out loud to everyone.

“‘Sorry, I can’t. I have to charge my crystals.’ Awe, Y/N!” You were pried from Adam’s hold, squeaking as Delia pulled you into another hug. She squeezed you tightly, but you didn’t mind. “That is so me! Plus, I drink tea in the mornings! How thoughtful of you.” Delia set the mug down on the table and placed a hand on your cheek, kissing your forehead like Barbara had previously done. You blushed, shrugging out of her tight grasp as you ran your fingers through your hair.

“It was nothing,” you brushed it off. “Just thought of a little homemade gift.”

“Well now I’m excited to see what Barbara’s is!”

You clapped your hands on excitement, a wide grin spreading on your face as you spun around to face Barbara and Adam. The newly-dead couple held hands, and Barbara gave you a sheepish wave.

“So,” you drawled out, gently tugging the headband off of your wrist. “It’s actually a surprise for both of you. So, I guess, happy early Father’s Day, Adam.” The said ghost placed a hand on his chest and smiled.

“Kiddo, I don’t need anything,” he declined, but you shook your head, slipping the headband on.

“Do you trust me?” you asked the two, the headband proudly displaying the green ‘Maitlands 2.0’ as you held out your hands for both of the Maitlands to take. Barbara and Adam glanced at each other before looking back at you, and you noticed the tears that were welling up in their eyes. They took your hands in theirs and nodded.

“Of course, sweetie!” Barbara exclaimed. You squealed excitedly and tugged then towards the front door. “Delia, could you—”

“Already on it,” the life coach cut her off from behind you three, going back to make sure Lydia and Charles didn’t burn down the kitchen.

You wormed your way through the hallways and to the front door, letting go of Adam’s hand to open the door. You turned to face the Maitlands, an unsure look making its way onto your face. “So, bear with me. I don’t know if this is truly going to work or not. I spoke to Beej—”

You were taken aback as Barbara removed her hand from your with such vigor, jumping as they both yelled out, “Beetlejuice!”

“Y/N, are you crazy?” Adam asked you, wrapping his arms around Barbara’s shoulders. The blonde ghost shuddered, wrapping her own arms around her torso, and you could only imagine she was reliving the exorcism Lydia told you about. You cracked your knuckles out of a nervous habit, nibbling on your lower lip as Adam continued. “That man is insane! If what you’re doing—”

“Adam, please!” You cut him off, looking at Barbara. “Barbara, please.” Barbara looked up at you, fear evident in her eyes. “You said you trusted me, right? Well, I trust Lydia and she trusts him. Please,” you pleaded, holding out your hands once more. “Just trust me.”

It was quiet for a moment as Barbara and Adam seemed to have a silent conversation with each other, and the blonde shrugged as if to say ‘we’re already dead, what could go wrong?’ They focused on you once more, and you provided them with a weak smile as they glanced at your headband.

“Maitlands 2.0?” Barbara asked her husband and he nodded.

“Maitlands 2.0,” he agreed, and both of them grabbed your open hands.

You took a deep breath and pulled them out of the house.

The Maitland’s grips on your hand tightened considerably as they were pulled from the comfort of their home, their eyes screwed shut in panic and fear. When they heard you let out a soft sound of disbelief before full on laughter, they both opened an eye and their looks of fear turned into one of shock and disbelief. Barbara joined in your laughter first, followed by Adam, and you grinned!

“Holy shit! It actually worked!” You exclaimed in excitement.

“Language!” Adam scolded, a smile on his face.

“Y/N, how did you manage this?” Barbara asked you, and you pulled them both in for a hug.

“Well, Beej said that ghosts who don’t cross over to the other side normally have their souls attached to something. I figured you spend so much time in the attic that the couch would work.” you admitted, pulling yourself away and releasing them. “Plus, it’s a headband! I know it’s not really her style, but Lydia could also wear it and you guys could have one big family day!”

Both of the ghosts jumped as your grip left theirs, holding on to each other with fear. When they noticed that they weren’t disappearing, Adam cupped Barbara’s face and kissed her, and you spun around, fake gagging.

“That’s disgusting,” you stated, giggling.

“Wait,” Adam said, and you faced the two newly-deads once again. “You said the couch?”

Heat crept into your cheeks and you ran a hand through your hair, avoiding the Maitland’s gazes. “I snipped a strip of cloth off the back of the couch, hoping you wouldn’t notice. Sorry for not telling you.”

Your eyes widened as you were pulled into another embrace, and you could’ve melted. The way they held you as if you were their own child brought tears to your eyes, and you returned the hug with vigor. “Do you like the gift?” you asked.

“Y/N, sweetie, we love it.” Barbara placed a soft kiss on the top of your forehead, followed by Adam, and this time you did melt into their hug. “Thank you so much for doing this.”

“Most importantly, though,” Adam intervened, and you looked up at him. He smiled softly down at you and ruffled your hair. “We love you, kiddo.” Your smile widened and you held onto the Maitlands tightly.

“I love you, too.”

[the-wrong-damn-way]

Hey!

You!

Yes, you!

Do y’all like my Beetlejuice writings that I posted but deleted because my theme screwed up?

I made an account for original works I have written + plan on writing for the future! If you liked my BJ content, y’all should totally follow that account! The account is @anxietea-writes !

Yes I go by a different pen name there, sue me.

[the-wrong-damn-way]

When Words Fail

In which the Maitlands notice you are refusing to talk to them as of late

When I tell y’all this is one of my favorite pieces to reread when I need to c r y

MAITLANDS > BEETLEJUICE (sorry not sorry)

Also, if you are Adam or Barbara Maitlands, please contact me. I have some adoption papers for you to sign.

The Maitlands were confused.

When you and your younger sister Lydia Deetz discovered that the house was haunted by two friendly ghosts, you two were ecstatic. It was something your mother would’ve loved to see, and Adam and Barbara Maitland just gave off this warm and friendly vibe that was welcoming and infectious. Whereas Lydia saw them as an opportunity to get the Deetz family back to New York, you saw the Maitlands as they were: a couple who were kind, caring, middle-class, suburban, and white. They were just a regular couple, minus the whole being dead thing.

The Maitlands, in your opinion, were the most suitable people to be parents, and during the whole Beetlejuice incident, your bond with them increased. They kept you safe from the demon’s antics, making sure no harm befell you as his anger festered into rage when your little sister jumped into a portal to the Netherworld. They refused to allow you to offer yourself in Lydia’s place (which concerned you to the extreme, she was your little sister and it was your sole duty to keep her from harm), instead keeping you hidden from his sight.

Over the course of the next few months after the fake marriage and the murder of Beetlejuice, your bond with the Maitlands undeniably grew stronger. On nights you were stressed out, you found yourself creeping into the attic to have calming conversations with the ghosts. On the days you were upset with your father or Delia, sometimes even Lydia, you dismissed yourself from your current activity to join Adam in a game of checkers or Barbara with a classic game of Go Fish. When dinner conversations went haywire, you’d make up an excuse to leave the table and headed to the attic to read a random book with the Maitlands (Adam would read to you and Barbara would let you rest your head on her legs as she ran her fingers soothingly through your hair).

And of course, if you didn’t get enough to eat during dinner, Barbara and Adam would sneak along with you into the kitchen for midnight snacks that would surely stuff you so that you wouldn’t go hungry.

But for the last two weeks, the Maitlands noticed your appearance in their part of the house slowly disappearing. On a scheduled game night, you didn’t show up. You apologized the next morning and kept the chit-chat to a minimum. Not wanting to seem creepy and intrude on your privacy, the deceased couple tried their best to stay out of your business, but always struck up a conversation with you whenever they could. They missed having your normal long talks about whatever came to mind, the subject always switching just to keep the three of you talking.

It took them awhile, but Adam was the first to finally catch on to what you were doing. He suggested the idea of you avoiding them on purpose to Barbara, and her eyes widened. She thought you were comfortable with Adam and herself, that you were just avoiding conversation because you couldn’t seem to hold onto one in the recent days. Barbara never took into consideration that you might’ve been avoiding them purposefully and the thought struck right through her heart.

Just to see if their little theory was true, the Maitlands took their seats at the dinner table one night, after being offered to join the Deetz for a family dinner by Lydia. The deceased couple chatted quietly with the Deetzes, short bursts of laughter and chuckles here and there throughout the whole dinner. The whole time, though, Barbara noticed that your chair remained empty.

“Where’s Y/N?” the blonde ghost asked the living family. Everything went quiet, and Barbara believed she was onto something.

“They haven't been leaving their room recently,” Lydia broke the uncomfortable silence with her answer. She stabbed the spaghetti that was on her plate with her fork, twirling it in her hand mindlessly. “If they didn’t answer their phone when I texted them, I would’ve thought them to be dead.”

“Lydia!” Both Charles and Delia scolded the gothy teenager. She sat up straight and shrugged.

“It’s not like I’m wrong!” Lydia argued, turning to face her father and step-mother.

Before they could witness the argument between the adults and their child, Adam and Barbara quietly excused themselves from the dinner table. They marched silently up the stairs to the attic, shutting the door behind them softly. Immediately, the two began pacing.

So, yes, the Maitlands had never been more confused in their afterlives.

And yes, having a bio-exorcist tormenting them and then making sexual innuendos was something they were still confused about, but the burning question of why you would be avoiding them was top of their list.

“Did we do something wrong?” Adam voiced the idea. Barbara stopped her pacing, looking up to meet her husband’s gaze.

“They would tell us if we did something,” Barbara countered. Slowly, though, the dark thought wormed itself into her head. She took a hesitant step towards Adam. “They would, right?”

Adam closed the distance between them, taking her hands in his. “Of course they would, honey. I’m just spitballing ideas here.” He rubbed his thumbs over the back of Barbara’s hands as a soothing gesture, and the blonde nodded.

“You’re right,” she mumbled. “Maybe they are just-”

A soft thump from the room underneath the attic was heard, and the Maitlands jumped, breaking their hold on each other. Both of their eyes widened as they recalled that your room was under their space, and a dark thought struck them both. After all, if Lydia was suicidal once, who was to say you weren’t. Adam and Barbara scrambled towards the attic door, practically ripping it off of its hinges as they hurried down the stairs.

When they got to your room, they didn’t know what they were expecting to find. They definitely didn’t expect to find you hunched over your desk, a clenched fist on the top of the wooden piece of furniture. You had earbuds in, blasting music to muffle all outside noises, and a tear rolled down your cheek before landing on the piece of sketch paper you were currently drawing on. Your eyes were puffy from crying, and the small trash can near the side of the desk was practically filled to the brim with dirty tissues and crumpled up pieces of paper. Barbara covered her mouth with a hand, suddenly feeling the urge to cry.

Here you were, vulnerable to the world, and the Maitlands never knew.

Before Adam could protest about invading your personal space, Barbara walked over to where you were sitting and knelt beside you. She placed a cold hand on your shoulder and you jumped, moving yourself away from the hand and ripping the earbuds out of your ears. Your eyes were blurry from crying and you wiped away the tears with the back of your hands, trying to stop yourself from letting out muffled hiccups. However, your body didn’t comply, and a new stream of tears were flowing down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized through sobs, wrapping your arms around your torso. Adam entered the room as Barbara walked over to you and embraced you into a loving hug, and you broke down once again. Another ‘I’m sorry’ left your sore throat as you wrapped your arms around Barbara, holding onto the female specter as much as you could. She shushed your apologies, instead rubbing her a hand in gentle circles on your back, hoping to calm you down.

God, you thought. This is embarrassing. You didn’t expect anyone to actually come check up on you, and having the Maitlands do it made you even more emotional. You didn’t remember how long you’ve been avoiding your favorite deceased couple. The only thing you could recall was the one-year anniversary of your mother’s death, and things only seemed to go downhill.

Once your sobs had turned to occasional sniffles, Barbara guided you over to your bed, and the two of you took a seat on the side. Adam sat on the other side of you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, and you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your body, leaning his head on top of yours, and Barbara placed her hand overtop of yours.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled once more.

“What for, kiddo?” Adam asked you.

“For avoiding you guys,” you answered. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. It just sort of happened.” You pulled away from Adam and stared at the floor. “I’ve been trying to come out and talk to you guys, but I guess you just remind me so much of my mother. Her one-year anniversary passed a while ago and I guess I fell into a pit without meaning too. I’m sorry-”

Barbara turned so that she was facing you and placed a finger on your lips. “Slow down, Y/N. You don’t need to tell us anymore if you don’t want to.” She removed her finger and placed her hand on your cheek, rubbing her thumb in a circular motion. “Just know that Adam and I will always be here for you, hun, okay?” You nodded, closing your eyes as the blonde brushed away a few stray tears.

“I, uh, have something for you guys.” You stood up from the bed and grabbed your sketchbook from the desk, flicking through some of the pages until you landed on the one you wanted to present to the Maitlands. You sat back down and both of them leaned over your shoulder with curiosity, and you were greeted with gasps.

You don’t recall when you drew the sketch, but it was your favorite one that was based off of a photo that Lydia had sent you one night. Barbara and Adam sat on both ends of the couch, with you stretched across it in the middle. You were asleep, as was Adam with his reading glasses practically dangling off of his nose, and Barbara was laughing, running her fingers through your hair as Lydia took the picture. Underneath it in cursive you had written a Disney quote that stuck in your mind.

Ohana means family, and family means no one gets left behind. Or forgotten.

Two pairs of arms wrapped around you tightly, and you jumped from the unexpected contact.

“Y/N,” Barbara cooed, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “That’s absolutely adorable!”

“We definitely are a family, kiddo.” He looked at the sketch once again, and pointed out the glasses on his face. “Also, you’re telling me I looked like that when I sleep?” You and Barbara chuckled, and you nudged him with your shoulder.

“I’m surprised I was able to sleep with how loud you snore,” you teased, and Adam scoffed, pushing you gently into Barbara. The laughter and chuckling eventually died down, and you all laid back on your bed, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars you had decorated your ceiling with. There was a comfortable silence, and you smiled.

“Hey guys?” The Maitlands hummed, letting you know that they were listening. “Thank you for being there for me.” Adam grabbed one of your hands, Barbara doing the same, and both of them gave you a gentle squeeze.

“Of course, Y/N.”

“Anything for you, kiddo. You should know this by now.”

“I love you guys,” you murmured quietly. And with the way they each squeezed your hand, you took it that they heard you.

“We love you too, kiddo. We love you too.”

[the-wrong-damn-way]

HELLO FROM THE OTHER SIDEEEEEE

Hi, uh, I’m back, first of all. Second of all, I’m going to college in a couple of months and I will get back to posting my old works so y’all can enjoy. Third, I’m going to make an account for my random bursts of inspiration for writing, so if you like my Beetlejuice writing and like to read some originals, be on the look out for that!!

Anywho, thank you to all who are still following!!! Cant wait to start posting again.

[the-wrong-damn-way]

Hi, soooo. Change of plans because one of my coworkers was exposed to COVID. I won’t be able to write anything for a bit since my workplace is low on staff as it is. I’m sorry, but I’ll get this done ASAP! In the meantime, I may post some of my old writings just to show I’m still alive.

Hey, that is more like a suggestion than a request, but what about something with y/n being Lydia sister and when Emily died she had a unhealthy copping mechanism (drugs, alcohol, idk) and the whole family help her when she relapse

YES. I WILL WRITE. ABSOLUTELY. BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR IT. IT SHOULD BE UP NO LATER THAN THIS FRIDAY.

[the-wrong-damn-way]

┏┓

┃┃╱╲ In this

┃╱╱╲╲ house

╱╱╭╮╲╲ we love

▔▏┗┛▕▔ & appreciate

╱▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔╲

Adam and Barbara Maitland

╱╱┏┳┓╭╮┏┳┓ ╲╲

▔▏┗┻┛┃┃┗┻┛▕▔

[the-wrong-damn-way]

Hey, that is more like a suggestion than a request, but what about something with y/n being Lydia sister and when Emily died she had a unhealthy copping mechanism (drugs, alcohol, idk) and the whole family help her when she relapse

YES. I WILL WRITE. ABSOLUTELY. BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR IT. IT SHOULD BE UP NO LATER THAN THIS FRIDAY.

[the-wrong-damn-way]

So apparently y’all can’t comment on my posts? Anyone know how to change that?

[the-wrong-damn-way]

Seasonal Depression

In which Beetlejuice tries to comfort you.

Beetlejuice x Reader

You stared up at the bedroom ceiling, the glow-in-the-dark stars the only source of light in your room. The words from the song you were listening to on repeat played softly in your ears, your hand clutching your phone tight against your chest. It was nights like these that made you feel utterly alone, but having the music helped a little bit. The sound of Mxmtoon’s voice was relaxing, yes, but the words she sang invoked some sort of sadness that you couldn’t comprehend.

You checked the time on your phone, only to come face to face with the album cover and song title: Seasonal Depression. It was a sad song title, yes, but it was the only song you could find yourself to listen to at the moment. You tracked your eyes to look back at the time and sighed when you noticed it was nearing one in the morning.

Everyone else in the Maitland-Deetz household was asleep at this time, you were sure of it. Delia and your dad, Charles, normally went to bed around ten pm, and the Maitlands were often a few minutes behind them. Your little sister, Lydia, however, probably went to bed at midnight. You wished you were fast asleep just like them, but sleep only seemed to evade you, like it was taunting you.

You tossed your head back onto your pillow and let out a long and annoyed sigh, eyes wandering among the stars upon your ceiling. Oh, how you wished the whole pandemic was gone. You missed your college roommates, and at the rate everything was going down at home, you wanted to be cuddled up in their beds while watching a scary movie and laughing throughout the night. If you had to stay quarantined with your dysfunctional family any longer, you were positive you were going to go crazy.

When your earbuds were pulled from your ears, your eyes widened and you sat up, throwing a punch. Your knuckles came in contact with flesh, and the person tumbled off of your bed with a quiet ‘oof’. Turning on the flashlight on your phone, you leaned over the side and winced.

“Sorry, Beej,” you apologized to the demon. Beetlejuice laid very still on the floor, his normally green hair a curious pale blue. You’ve known him long enough to know that the color in his hair matched his emotions, and the light shade of blue meant he was surprised. He blinked slowly as if understanding that you had punched him, sitting up and looking at you.

“Damn, kiddo,” he muttered, loud enough for you to hear. “You pack one helluva punch. Good for you.” Beetlejuice brushed off the imaginary dirt from his black and white striped suit and instead of standing up like a normal human being (because duh, he obviously wasn’t a human, and he definitely wasn’t normal), he disappeared before reappearing at the foot of your bed with a flash of neon green smoke. The blue in his hair disappeared, returning to its normal bright shade of green, his twinkling eyes matching.

“Thanks, I guess,” you replied to the demon’s supposed compliment. “But you deserved it.” He chuckled before giving a slight nod.

“Guess I did,” he hummed his agreement. “But that’s not the point. What are you still doing up? Don’t breathers require a normal amount of sleep to function properly?” Beetlejuice was curious as to why you weren’t asleep, and when you tossed your head back onto your pillow with a huff of irritation, he tilted his head like a lost puppy. Did he say something wrong?

“I can’t sleep,” you admitted softly after a bit of silence. The supposed ‘ghost with the most’ nodded, not really understanding. “Music normally helps but this song, it’s just telling me all about my sadness in song form.”

The demon at the foot of your bed stayed quiet. He knew you were diagnosed with depression after your mother passed, and after talking to Lydia and the Maitlands about what depression was, he sort of understood your situation. Beetlejuice also understood that depression wasn’t something to take lightly.

“Do you mind if I listen to it?”

You raised an eyebrow at Beetlejuice. Him? Asking to listen to the song? You wondered what had gotten into him, but when he gave you the puppy dog face, you rolled your eyes and scooted over, patting the empty space next to you. “Get over here, loser.”

Beetlejuice was quick to move next to you, copying your position and leaning his head on one of your pillows. When he saw the plastic stars plastered on your ceiling, he was about to ask you about them before being interrupted by a soft ukulele.

The demon listened to the lyrics, gaze focused on the ceiling above him. Halfway through the song however, he risked a glance in your direction. Beetlejuice noticed how you kept your eyes on the stars, taking deep breaths as if to calm yourself. When the song was over, he snapped his eyes back to the plastic stars before sitting up, turning to look at you as if he wasn’t watching your reaction just moments earlier.

“You okay, Beej?” you asked your demon pal, noticing how the roots of his hair were turning a dark blue. He’s sad, you thought to yourself. He raised an eyebrow at you, and you motioned to his hair. “It’s turning blue,” you answered his unspoken question. His mouth formed an ‘O’ shaped before running his hand through his hair, and you turned on your side.

A demon, you thought to yourself. You just told a demon how you were feeling. You covered your eyes with your hands, feeling the tears that were basically threatening to fall. You jolted softly when you felt a hand being placed on your shoulder, and you looked over to find the demon giving you a soft smile.

“What you’re going through must be rough, kid,” he started, seemingly hesitant on what he wanted to tell you. He continued anyway. “Being here with everyone has me going a bit too soft, and trust me when I say I don’t like it. However, if you ever need a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to, I’ll be there in a flash. Literally.” You smiled at him and he returned it with a soft smile of his own.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked the demon. He chuckled.

“You already did, but sure. What’s up?”

“Can you really shapeshift?”

The demon looked at you with furrowed brows, but you just gave him a taste of his own medicine: a shit eating grin that was similar to his whenever he caused mayhem. With a sigh and a flash of green smoke, a black cat now stood next to you on your bed. Its bright green eyes seemed to narrow at you but you just smiled, picking up Beetlejuice in his feline form and carefully holding him in your arms.

“You really are going soft, Beej,” you commented quietly, running a hand through his surprisingly soft fur. He simply let out a purr of contempt, watching as your movements got slow and your eyelids started to droop. He curled up next to you as you drifted off to sleep.

“Night, kiddo.”

[the-wrong-damn-way]

Beej hair HEADCANONS

- Blue: Sad

- Red: angry

- Yellow: uncomfortable

- Neon Green: joyful / excited

- Dark green: mischievous

- Lime green: bored

- Pastel green: at peace

- Pale blue: Suprised

- Soft pink: Love

- Neon pink: Turned on

- Magenta: jealous

- Soft Green: amused

- Gray: scared

- Orange: disgust

- Lavender: nostalgic

- Turquoise: embarrassed

- None: worse than depression, he just cant feel anymore.

- Purple: depressed

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

Feel free to ad your hair color changing beej headcanons!

[the-wrong-damn-way]

USERNAME CHANGE

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the-wrong-damn-way

[the-wrong-damn-way]

Instead of “Said” (Dialogue Tags List)

Normal

Added

Affirmed

Commented

Conceded

Continued

Mused

Remarked

Said

Spoke

Stated

Suggested

Told

As a Question

Asked

Begged

Inquired

Probed

Queried

Questioned

Quizzed

Tested

As an Answer

Answered

Began

Countered

Clarified

Described

Elaborated

Explained

Informed

Replied

Responded

Retorted

Happy

beamed

cheered

chimed

giggled

laughed

praised

rejoiced

thanked

Angry

Argued

Bellowed

Berated

Chided

Countered

Demanded

Fumed

Goaded

Growled

Hissed

Ranted

Reprimanded

Roared

Scolded

Shouted

Snapped

Sneered

Thundered

Sassy/Playful/Sarcastic

Bantered

Bragged

Hinted

Jested

Mimicked

Mocked

Quipped

Smirked

Bossy

Challenged

Commanded

Decided

Demanded

Detailed

Determined

Insisted

Ordered

Anxious/Sad/Worried

Cautioned

Groaned

Gulped

Stammered

Stuttered

Trembled

Whined

Of course this is not a complete list, so feel free to add on!

((NOTE: Because I’ve seen a couple people comment on this, I thought I’d add that of course you don’t want to change every single “said” to one of these. This is just for inspiration and to help people find a word they might want to use instead! Happy writing!))

[the-wrong-damn-way]

A Note From Paxenera

Hello everyone. I’d like to apologize, sincerely, for leaving Tumblr without saying anything. That was rude and selfish and could’ve caused people unnecessary anxiety about my well-being. I’ve felt that kind of anxiety about others before and am sorry to have put that on anyone else. I made some awesome, amazing, kind-hearted, and warm friends on Tumblr that I cannot thank enough for their welcoming arms.

Every once and a while I find myself having an existential panic where I think about my death bed and a demon whispering into my ear how much time I wasted looking at a little blue screen... A few days ago I got extremely overwhelmed by these thoughts and deleted all of my social media :^))) I struggle a lot philosophically with social media and whether or not the positives outweigh the negatives for me.

You all should know that your warmth towards me made Tumblr my favorite social media, despite me still feeling panicked and bad about using it (I should note that this isn’t a constant thought of mine, but I do think about it a lot. I love sharing my art and such, but I don’t want the validation and excitement of others towards my art to be the reason I make it. Yet, maybe that should be the only reason I make it - to make others smile or feel happy or feel something... I like making art for myself too, but maybe I need to make it for others too. Ugh. I’m getting too deep. Apologies. Moral of the story, I’ve been weighing social media in my mind for many years now, and as a creative I really like using it to share stuff and appreciate the stuff that others share, but I worry that I will lose myself in the opinions of others rather than thinking for myself and spend too much time and energy thinking about my presence on a platform when there is so much to see and do in the world beyond the screen.)

I also think I needed a clean break in general. I was losing the parts of Tumblr that made it feel special to me, like all of the beautiful writing and art. It just became a place on my screen where I clicked out of boredom when I could have been drawing, writing, making things, learning things.

Tumblr was the first social media where I personally felt like none, or at least very few, were putting on some kind of mask or persona. People felt real and genuine to me, which I really loved. Again, I just got ridiculously overwhelmed and panicked.

Nonetheless, that does not excuse leaving without saying anything at all. I’m trying to explain myself, but that was a selfish move. If I caused you any anxiety or stress, I really am sorry.

Thank you to everyone who made my Tumblr experience special, especially @vicunaburger @demonwifey @go-commander-kim @turtlepated @whiskerroses @ironmansuucks @texasblues and anyone else who ever chatted with me <3 you all are wonderful.

I might make another Tumblr again soon... I’m not totally sure. If I do, I’ll try to reach out and reconnect with you guys :)

[the-wrong-damn-way]

Beetlejuice’s Cut Songs Masterpost

Mama Would: DC Boot - Beetleball Boot - Beetleball Pro

The Whole Being Dead Thing (reprise 3): DC Boot 

That Beautiful Sound (reprise): DC Boot

The Children We Didn’t Have: DC Boot

I Am Very Good at Running Cults: DC Boot - Beetleball Boot

Dead Mom (reprise): DC Boot

The Whole Being Dead Thing (reprise 4): DC Boot

There’s Gonna be a Good Old-Fashioned Wedding: DC Boot

Everything is Meh: DC Boot - Beetleball Boot

Emily Would: DC Boot

Goodbye Emily Deetz: Beetleball Boot

When an Asshole Saves the Day: Beetleball Boot 

Invisible (Extended): Beetleball Boot 

Mix Them All Together: Beetleball Boot 

Gotta Get Out of This House: Beetleball Boot

[the-wrong-damn-way]

My favorite song that needs to be on the album!!!

[the-wrong-damn-way]

That feeling tho when you find that fic writer that just absolutely fucking

understands the characters to their core

writes so well they–just so–they just—their writing is—-THEY WRITE GOOD

shatters your bad mood with a new update

writes a fic that you can read over again and still clutch at your heart like HOLY SHIT I FUCKING LOVE–I LOVE THIS FIC

writes a scene that has you all giddy in public and that one random stranger asks you like “ooo you are smiling :) :) is that a boy :) you are talking to :)” and you’re like “no I’m reading a Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies AU, please leave”

understands and portrays the characters better than the people who make MOVIES with those characters

amazing. just amazing. fic writers are awesome

[the-wrong-damn-way]

Hello, i just wanted to say how much i loved When Words Fail... It got me tearing up in my room I love this, and i thank you so much for it I hope you have an amazing day! You hecking deserve it Thank you for writing my beautiful dorks in this amazing manner i never saw anyone writing Maitlands x reader before thank youuuu

I just—

MY WORDS CAN ONLY BE SPOKEN THROUGH ONE EMOJI AND IF YOUVE BEEN HERE, OTHER FOLLOWERS, YOU KNOW WHAT THAT EMOJI IS. FOR YOU NEW FOLLOWERS:

🥺

Thank you so much for your kind words, and I’ll have you know that the Maitlands are always parental figures in whatever I write that includes them. Also, uno reverse. Have a great day/night/time whenever you read this.

a l s o

Not to uh, self promo, but I have another one called Nightmares because I believe the Maitlands to be the best of the best so if you wanna read that, that would be very appreciated 🥺