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madam-o · 2 days
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Ok truth time: as obsessed as I was with Beetlejuice in all its forms as a kid, I never found the cartoon truly satisfying. It was cute and Tim Burtony, but in a very muted kind of way. Not enough death and too many silly puns. The Maitlands, Juno, and the Neitherworld Bureau of Afterlife Affairs (my name for it, honestly I don't think it was ever named) were completely absent, which I always found deeply disappointing. The show looked great, though, and it was sometimes pretty cool.
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But now after over 30 years and Beetlejuice getting a musical and a sequel and everything, I'm like, ok so where's my new cartoon? Every other IP from my youth is getting pimped out with new stuff, so surely another cartoon is down the pipeline. And after Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, it would be a waste not to make it a musical with Alex Brightman. I dunno if Keaton would be cheap enough to hire as a VA, anyway. Just sayin.
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I realllly did not like the idea of the BJ musical at first, btw. I saw the performance at the Tonys and while I didn't hate it, I did dismiss it as pretty cringey. I fully admit to having been a musical theater snob, and anything from the 80's onward has generally been "Pop Culture IP: the Musical" and a waste of time in my estimation. I've only really liked Soundheim and the few original musicals that have come out in recent years. And yes, Lion King was good.
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But Vivziepop has ruined my life and now all I think about is animated shows for adults, musical theater, and most of all, musical theater boys. Damn Jeremy Jordan and his fucking angelic vocal chords. Curse Alex Brightman and that cartoony, growly thing he does. Fuck Christian Borle and his sexy asshole characters (but no seriously, can I please?)
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So back to my first point, which is: where's my animated series/movie that perfectly combines all three iterations of Beetlejuice (movie, cartoon, musical) into one satisfying package? The one where Juno and the Afterlife Affairs office are back and things are gruesome and a bit scary but wildly fun? Where Beetlejuice can swear and smoke and do completely offensive things that are only acceptable for an amoral demon/poltergeist/whatever to do? Where he and Lydia are close pals again and she gives as good as she gets? Where the music is both Danny Elfman-like and Eddie Perfect-esque and the animation is either stop-motion or 2D and the style looks like an homage to every BJ property that came before?
*holds out hand* I'll take that NOW, please and thank you very much.
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madam-o · 2 days
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Behind the Scenes - Mark Hamill as Luke Skywalker, Star Wars
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madam-o · 2 days
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Well I gotta say, neither of them look 35 years older. I REALLY hope this is a great sequel.
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Beetlejuice (1988) Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (2024)
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madam-o · 4 days
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Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice!
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madam-o · 5 days
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Best art homage ever? I think so.
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the fallen angel,
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madam-o · 5 days
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Wrong Adam 💔💔
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madam-o · 9 days
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Damn. When I saw Fennec Shand again I was so hopeful we'd get a Round 2 with Cad Bane. They were even riding around a swamp on bayou boats too, a total flashback to Bane tracking down Ziro on Nal Hutta.
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madam-o · 12 days
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Lucifer: I guess I'll just drink my problems away
Lucifer *stabs straw into a Capri Sun*
Alastor, with a glass of deer blood: Cheers to that
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madam-o · 15 days
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TBB S3 eps 6 and 7 (speculation and spoilers)
I always think it's funny when people say that they shouldn't bring back a character who is assumed dead because it "cheapens their sacrifice", as if they still weren't sacrificing themselves in the moment. When Tech fell into the fog, it was definitely giving off uncertain vibes as to his fate. Hemlock tossing out the broken goggles and saying that they were the only thing that could be recovered telegraphed this even harder. No body means he's likely not dead. Tech survived near-death experiences much more dangerous than that one all the time. And if he's alive that's great, because he has a lot to live for.
But that doesn't mean I want the shadow clone to be him, cause that would suck for him and we don't know if those clones can be deprogrammed. It could be Cody, which would also be tragic. But then again, this could all just be head games that Filoni is playing with us and it might not be either of them.
I dunno, I still think Tech is out there but I was just hoping that he was off fighting the good fight on his own somehow.
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madam-o · 1 month
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i love women. i love terrible women. i love cold off-putting women who don't let anyone in. i love traumatized women who self-destructively cope with violence and sex and alcohol. i love women who want to disappear. i love isolated women who lost and lost and lost but can't let go. i love women who suck at responsibilities and caring and showing love and emotions. i love women who struggle. i loooove television when they show women like that as complex and flawed and human without villainizing or infantilizing them for it.
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madam-o · 1 month
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FATHER 🍎
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madam-o · 2 months
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hazbin hotel season finale alternative ending
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madam-o · 2 months
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I just mentally yelled out, "YOU SLUT"
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Mmm, just keep waving, darling....
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madam-o · 2 months
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This person GETS IT. A+ characterization and a totally believable interaction between these two. Now we just need a good fandub.
AHHHH IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD WAIT UNTIL THE END
SOURCE
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madam-o · 2 months
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CHARLIE HAS TWO DADS
Anyone else think it's funny Alastor and Lucifer have their own tower corner on opposite ends
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madam-o · 2 months
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Lol I'd call monitoring her via camera and stalking her around his house like a weird little creeper pretty unhinged. He's a funny little freak, even if he is fairly clever. But he clearly doesn't get how her mind works. Trying to win her father's approval is literally the only thing she cares about. He needs to displace the father as her source of desired praise, but that's not an easy task. Uh, not while the man's alive anyway....oh dear...
Dirty Work 24
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.
Characters: Loki
Note: friday! coworkers last day!
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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You pass through the gate, cautious to close it without a noise. You trail past the hedges and around the side of the house. You enter through the back, as you did in those early days, only weeks ago, though it seems years.
You move slowly, leaving your shoes out of the way, disregarding the closet as you cling to the strap of your bag and venture warily onward. You pause before the kitchen door and peek around, finding it empty. You tiptoe on and climb the stairs one at a time, flinching at ever creak.
You reach the top and keep your eyes down. You go to the library and slip inside, like a ghost floating through your own existence. You set the bag by your feet and pull out the laptop to begin your day.
You don't think, not past the list of tasks. You boot the computer and wait for the screen to light up. You type in the pass code and open Excel. You lean your head in your hand, eyes glazing over as the glare sears your vision, stamping with endless columns and tiny numbers.
You feel yourself slumping, the strength whittling away by the second. Your eyes droop even as your ears prick at each noise. You shake your head, trying to ward off the needling fatigue. You yawn and sit up, rubbing your eyelids as you square your shoulders.
You let your head hang back and drop your arms into your lap. Your stomach wriggles as Mr. Laufeyson's looming presence creeps into your mind. He's here somewhere and surely, he already knows you are too. He's just waiting to pounce. 
Your fears furl into faded dreams. A fractured series of scenes, twisted reflections of reality rippling into each other until you dizzy. You can hear your own snores yet don't quite realise you're asleep.
You wake with a start as you feel yourself slipping. You barely catch yourself before you flop off the chair. You spasm and grip the arm rest as a shadow lurks behind your laptop screen. You gape up at Mr. Laufeyson as he watches you with arms folded.
"Hm," he tilts his head, "that shirt is... not very professional."
"Sir," you keep your face down as your cheek thrums, swollen and bruised, "I'm sorry, I... I didn't sleep very well."
"Oh yes, of course, I hadn't even mentioned you sleeping on the job," he growls and uncrosses his arms, bringing his hands down to the desk. He leans in so his head is just above the laptop. "Look at me."
"Mr. Laufeyson, I'm just sorting out the expenses--"
"Look at me," he commands more firmly.
You wince and rub your neck. An ache radiates in your shoulder, another remnant of your father's wrath. You slowly raise your chin as your lip twitches just slightly. His eyes narrow and his jaw ticks.
He's silent as he stares at you. Angry, you can tell. You pull your hands back and fold them against your chest.
"Please, Mr. Laufeyson, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. It won't happen again--"
"What happened to your clothes?" He slithers darkly.
"Nothing, I... I wasn't paying attention this morning--"
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not," you squeak unconvincingly.
His nostrils flare and he slaps his palm on the desk. You sit back, pressing yourself to the chair as you whimper.
"I underestimated that... scum," he spits out.
"I don't know--"
"Go on and lie again. What is it this time? You took a tumble?" He reaches out and you shy away, expecting him to put another swell in your cheek. Instead, he touches the thrumming skin, stroking it, "I didn't think..." he takes a breath and withdraws his hand, standing stiffly, "I believed him a coward, but not that sort."
"It's not--"
"Hush. You make your excuse for him, I will not swallow them," he flicks his fingers at you dismissively.
He rolls his shoulders and pivots on his heel. He paces across the patterned rug and stops, just before the sofa. He turns back, making another line across the space. He brings his finger up to tap his chin.
"Yes, very well, I see I do have somewhere to be," he states as he drops his hand, his lips curving at the corners. 
"Mr. Laufeyson," you stand.
"Never you mind," he tuts, "you have your work, I have mine." He cracks his knuckles.
"Are you--"
"Ah ah," he points at you tersely, "since when is my itinerary your concern? Mind the house, that is your job." He huffs and checks his watch as a pinch lines his forehead, "you may receive the expected parcel and leave it on my desk for now..." he lowers his hand and grumbles, "and you will stay here."
"Mr. Laufeyson," you murmur.
Before you can protest further, he's at the door. You're frozen in disbelief. Surely he can't mean what you think.
It doesn't matter to him, does it? You are his house manager, just another below him he can torment, he wouldn't do anything like that. Certainly, he won't harm your father, right?
You rush after him as your doubts bubble over. As he enters the hallway, you grab his elbow, not thinking, not hesitating for once in your life. "Please, Mr. Laufeyson, whatever you're thinking of--"
He faces you and rips his arm free, "don't."
"Please, it's-- I--" you sputter helplessly and wring your hands, "I deserved it."
He squares his chin and blinks. "Deserve... so it was him?"
"Mr. Laufeyson, it isn't... isn't your problem. He's my dad, I'll deal with him."
"As you have so far?" He scoffs, "pet, I mean to defend you. To do you a favour. Another. And now you overstep and try to command me?"
"No, no, I'm not... not commanding. I'm begging," you clutch your hands tighter, putting them up to plead, "don't make it worse."
He dips his head and closes his eyes. He pinches his nose and gives a nod, rubbing his lips together. He raises his head and opens his eyes again. He shrugs and lets a grin break through.
"It isn't your choice," he grabs your wrists, locking them together in his grasp as he drags you forward.
Your socks slip on the floorboards as he tugs you down the hallway. You struggle, writhing and sliding against his force. The same panic that struck you last night swirls again, thumping in your chest. He turns and swings you through the door of his bedroom. You stagger as he lets you go and the door swiftly snaps shut behind you.
You turn to face it and throw yourself against it, twisting the handle as you try to pull it open. He holds it shut from the other side and you hear the lock grind into place. You hit the door with your fists and cry out.
"Mr. Laufeyson!"
"I will return shortly, pet, never you worry," he assures, "don't miss me too much."
You slap the wood again and press your ear to it. You listen as he struts away, whistling until it fades to silence. You hear the front door below, shortly followed by the car engine rolling to life. You rush over to the window and look at as he steers up to the gate.
You can hear his knuckles cracking and see that sinister smirk. His intentions cannot be good.
Your exhaustion slakes away to panic. You pace the room, bounce up and down on your feet, fidget incessantly, murmuring senselessly. You just can't be still. What is Mr. Laufeyson doing?
Your fears twist your imagination to terror. Is he going to hurt your father? He should just leave him alone. He's the one who got him so worked up. That last thought makes you stop short.
It's his fault. It's all his fault. He heard everything on the phone, he knew your dad has anger issues, he walked into your home and he ruined it all. 
Your lashes flutter as you sway. You feel like you've been struck all over again. Mr. Laufeyson has done this all to you! He gave you this job, he took you away from your dad, he invaded your home, he made you wear those clothes. 
And now, you're mad. You feel that hot streak inside of you unlike anything before. Vivid and venomous. You run to the door, throwing yourself against it as you beat with your fists. 
He's locked you up here so you can't stop him from doing anymore. You're sleeping in a hotel because of him. You're not eating or sleeping, you can feel yourself going insane. Because of him.
You're dizzy and breathless. You lean on the door and try to calm yourself. Your head hurts.
You slide down and turn to put your back against the door. You hang your head, bending your legs to rest your arms over them. You heave and close your eyes.
You're just as helpless as you've ever been.
The footsteps bring you out of your daze. You raise your head, wobbly on your neck, and blink several times before you get your bearings. You listen to Mr. Laufeyson's entry, his slow advance below, and his steady ascension up the staircase.
Your heart hitches but you don't move. Even if you had the strength, you refuse. You will not budge.
He comes down the staircase, a hum in the air. You tense and grit your teeth, eyes hot again with tears. Not sad but angry.
"Ah, pet, you will be happy to hear that I don't believe your father will have another cruel world reserved for you," he sings the handle shifts slightly above your head and the lock clicks. "How shall we celebrate your emancipati--"
The door jolts and you push back against it. You plant your feet and grunt as you force it shut. He lets out a noise and shoves back. You do it again.
"Pet," he evens his tone, "what are you up to?"
"Leave me alone!" You snarl, surprised by your own venom.
"Pet, now, let me in--"
"I said go away!"
He scoffs and stops pushing. He lets out his breath loudly.
"This isn't mature behaviour."
"I don't care, I don't want to see you."
He's quiet again. You hear his soles scuff and he gently taps on the door.
"Pet, please, we should talk. I think it's imperative that we do--"
"No, I don't want to talk. I don't want to see you. I want you to leave me alone!"
"You are being a child--"
"You ruined everything," you bark, "you ruined my life! You're a bad man and I hate you!"
You go weak as the last words escape you without a thought. You collapse onto your bottom and catch your head in your hands. You devolve into thick, choking sobs. Here you are, bawling like the child he calls you. He must be amused.
"Are you tendering your resignation?" He asks crisply, "because I believe you haven't anywhere else to go, my dear."
"I know! Because of you. I have nowhere, because you!" You shoot back through heaving breaths.
"Or... you could have somewhere, because of me," he says measuredly. "Pet, all you have to do is open the door and talk to me."
You fall onto your side and curl up. You cover your head, whimpering as tears trickle down. You sniffle and hide under your arm. Just like you did when dad wouldn't stop yelling. 
The floorboards shift and he sighs again, "I can wait." He taps the door lightly once more and his footfalls retreat.
You tremble in a heap, nearly delirious with emotion. Through the chaos, you can see the truth. You don't have anywhere or anything without him.
The world shifts under you, your body chafing across the floor as the door moves you. Not harshly but inch by inch. Mr. Laufeyson bends over you as you open your eyes, groggy and glazed over. His silhouette is fuzzy and distant as he slides his arms under you.
He lifts you and carries you to the bed. You groan as he lays you down, piling pillows behind you to prop you up. He sits with his legs over the side and pushes his head back. You come to, little by little, pushing through the fog.
You hug yourself and wiggle in place. He reaches to still you, his hand on your thigh. You wince and stare at his fingers. He draws his knee up and shifts to face you. He removes his touch as his eyes cling thoughtfully to the wall behind you.
"I see you've calmed down," he begins and lets his gaze fall on you, "so we will talk. I'm sure you're aware that matters are urgent."
"No..." you utter, "I'll... go."
You try to sit up and he nudges you back. You hit the pillows and do not try again. You don't have anything left in you.
"Where?" He challenges.
"I have a hotel room--"
"No," he shakes his head, "that won't do. What I'm offering, well, you can hardly deny it."
You drop your head and shrug.
"How many more nights can you afford? And without a job? I'm offering you both. Work, accommodation. I dare to say, I would offer you a home."
"No, you're my boss," you insist.
"Yes, I do expect you to shoulder some tasks," he assures, "but perhaps... we might remold this arrangement."
Your eyes stick blankly to your knees. You don't know what he wants or what he means. Just more. It's always more. Hasn't he taken enough?
"What more can you want from me?" You whisper.
He's quiet again. His fingers twiddle and he lifts his hand, touching your arm and slowly grasping it. He unwraps it from your torso and trails down to your hand, squeezing it.
"I made myself clear before," he pulls your hand closer, cradling it as he pets your knuckles, "but perhaps you still misunderstood me." He clasps your hand between both of his, "I want you. Entirely."
Your eyes flick up to meet his. Your mouth falls open as your heart tempos wildly. You still don't think you understand. Your search his face for the answer.
"I will grant you any wish. Clothes, jewellery, whatever you like. If you like to read, I will buy you books, if you like to draw, I will buy you paint. If you just want shiny things, I can get those too. All I ask is simple. For you. For your entire being. That you obey and serve my every need and you will have all you ever longed for. Things you never even dreamed of," he slips a hand away and lifts yours. He leans in and softly kisses your knuckles, "you say I am bad, but I needn't be.”
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madam-o · 2 months
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Buggy - Mihawk - Shanks + lounging
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