For orangeplaneta.
I've caught my third cold in less than a month. I'm beyond pissed. After being basically bedridden all day, I worked on an idea I had a bit ago. My mind was too addled for writing, and I need to be in the right mood to continue my other fic, so I drew instead and painted a thing. I'm pretty proud of it, but then… after I finished it, I was like "now what?" So, I had the itch to write, but not for Ta Hell n' Back. I decided on a drabble instead. After watching Adventure Time one day, I thought, I should totally pull an Ice King and write a fanfic with a role reversal. Then, a certain Beetle Babe (orangeplaneta) fortified that notion by suggesting it as a prompt for some drabbles. So, here is my Fionna and Cake version of Beetlejuice. Hope ya like it!
Life was cruel. Death was exponentially unjust. Centuries in solitude did nothing to change the mopey, poltergeist's mind about the unfairness of it all. Lydia Deetz had been lonely and scorned in life, and when she threw herself into the raging waters of an icy cold river in the dead of winter, she had no idea she'd be punished for it. No, an afterlife sentence of civil service for god knows how long, well, that just wouldn't do. No one should have to pay that price. Especially not after already feeling the brunt of life's heel in one's heart. The pain of utter loneliness was punishment enough.
A millennium could pass, and Lydia would still attempt, plot, and scheme her way out of her solitary prison. It didn't matter who, she just needed one idiot to exhume her and say her name three times. This couple seemed promising. For some reason, they just wouldn't follow the damn clues she'd left for them. Even after possessing their television set and putting on a clever production for them, they decided on going to the netherworld instead. Losers, she thought as she shook her head and rolled her eyes. They would be sorely disappointed. That was certain. Then, perhaps they'd call when they had no one else to turn to. They would call.
Just as Lydia was about to put away her scrying mirror, the door to the attic opened with a click and a creak. A mixture of boredom and curiosity kept her eyes fixed on the handsome young face that peeked its head in. Sixteen at most, with blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, severely arched eyebrows, and an aquiline nose, which may or may not have been broken at some point. A handsome little thing, indeed. He entered with wary yet smug countenance. A grin split his features as he closed the door gently behind him.
This boy was trouble, Lydia mused as a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. The youth's hungry eyes devoured the entire attic space before finally landing on the handbook. The ghost's brow furrowed for a moment as she watched him walk straight for it. No, she scoffed, there was no way he could see it. Lydia scooted to the edge of her recliner and bent over her mirror with wide eyes. Hope and wonderment blooming within her at the prospect of this living boy being able to see beyond the veil. She nearly fell off her seat completely when he picked up the book and opened it, his eyes darting left to right repeatedly, and his jaw going slack.
This, Lydia thought with delight, changes everything.