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fromtheo-withlove · 4 years ago

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Pt. 3 - The Sentencing

A huge thank you to anyone reading :) I’m so grateful for all the support and I’m excited to keep going with this story!

TW: mild violence, death threats, near-death experience, reference to war crimes, choking

@ihaveacrushonjester

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Bennett took a deep breath and looked up at the king, trying to look braver than he felt.

He had known this war would probably kill him. He had envisioned it a thousand times. A sword through his armor, a volley of arrows maybe. With the way things had been going, he even thought it might’ve been one of his own soldiers putting a blade to his neck while he slept.

At first, the notion terrified him and he was vigilantly on guard during battle. But eventually he grew weary, and at times he had even selfishly hoped for death, knowing that the pain and bloodshed of war would continue without him, but wanting to be free of it himself. He became bolder in his fighting style, often leaving himself exposed, but he hadn’t realized the enemy only wanted him alive.

He realized it now, as he knelt bound at the kings feet, waiting to hear his death sentence.

“I know the pain of war well. God knows Baramont has faced more than its fair share even before now,” the king sighed. “But this conflict has taken a greater toll on our kingdom than all of those wars combined. We had decades of peace with Lianhar. It should have never come to this.” He paused and shook his head.

“Prince Bennett, when you were a child living in this castle, I treated you like you were family. Now, you kneel before me, a man, accused of murdering my people in cold blood. Not only soldiers. No…. that would at least be expected in a time of war. Perhaps even forgivable….” The king’s voice filled with a growing rage.

“But your soldiers crossed that line. When you started to lose, your men burned villages in retaliation. Razed crop fields. Killed innocent men, women, and children. Probably took liberties I won’t dare utter. This is simply unforgivable.”

Bennett stayed silent but stared at the floor, jaw clenched. “Bennett, do you have anything to say in response to this accusation?”

“He’s right. I’m a monster,” Bennett thought to himself. “I deserve to drown in the blood I’ve allowed to be spilled.”

After a moment’s pause, he spoke. “I accept responsibility for the accusations levied against me, Your Highness.” He heard a sob from Aurelia. He couldn’t bare to look at her, didn’t deserve to gaze upon her face.

“I was the commander of the regiment that committed those crimes. I deeply regret that they occurred and I-“ his own voice began to catch. “I know I can never bring back what’s been lost. I-… I never meant-”

“That’s enough,” the king interjected coldly. “It doesn’t matter what you meant or regret. I’ve heard enough to pass your sentence.”

Bennett nodded. He was ready for this all to be over.

“You know you must die for these crimes, don’t you?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Bennett kept his head down, too ashamed to face the man he once thought of as a second father.

“Good. But you must also know that a quick execution is a mercy... One not afforded to war criminals.”

Hearing those words, Bennet felt his stomach drop in fear. He should’ve expected it. He knew he deserved a drawn-out punishment.

But he also knew he had always been weak and pathetic. Even as he tried desparately to be brave, it felt hard to breathe. He barely registered the cheers and taunts coming from the audience.

“You will eventually die for your crimes. But it will not be today. You will be kept as a prisoner and tortured until I decide you’ve suffered enough to even start atoning for your crimes. You will also be a warning to other neighboring kingdoms – they’ll know what awaits them if they go to war with Baramont.”

Bennett had started to count in his head, trying to slow his breathing, tune out the room around him. He knew his own suffering was a small price to pay if it meant the end of the war. He needed to focus on that.

The king continued,“If you were a lone actor, we could leave your sentence at that. But you represent Lianhar, and your father the king deserves to be punished as well. You may have led your regiment, but he was the one who incited this war in the first place.”

Bennett finally glanced up from the floor, looking up at the king in fear and confusion.

“In order to truly punish your father and kingdom, make them suffer as we have, we cannot just kill soldiers can we? Innocents died on our side. And justice is justice.”

Bennett paled. “No, please, Your Highness. Please let this end with me, add to my debts. Punish me more! Don’t hurt Lianhar’s civilians, I beg of you.” Bennett looked at the king, apprehension in his eyes. This was supposed to be over. This damn war needed to be over.

“Don’t worry Prince Bennett, I’m not as cruel as the rulers of Lianhar. I’m not talking about civilians. I found a way to punish your father and kingdom without involving them. As punishment for this war, your royal bloodline will end with you and with Gabriel.” The king beckoned to the guards near the doors. “Bring Prince Gabriel in.”

They had Gabriel? “Wait. NO! No, oh god no.” Bennett struggled against the hands holding him down on his knees. They were prepared for him to fight at the news. “You can’t do this! He’s not a soldier! This can’t be happening…”

But as the doors opened and Bennett’s guard shoved him around to watch, Bennett saw his worst nightmare unfolding before him.

His little brother, his kind-hearted, intelligent, better-than-he’d-ever-be little brother, was being shoved forward by a guard. His hands were shackled together tightly in front of him and a white blindfold covered his eyes.

“Gabriel!” He tried to go towards his brother, but he was still being held down.

“Bennett?!” his brother’s voice cracked. Bennett fought harder, but only earned himself a kick to the stomach.

“Your Highness, please, have mercy. Gabriel had nothing to do with this war. He wanted peace, none of this was his fault.”

“That’s exactly why he must be punished as well. It’s not his fault, I’m well aware. Gabriel, I am sorry you must be involved. But we need peace and retribution. And Lianhar needs to learn its lesson. Besides, Bennett, did your men stop to think about how many of my people just wanted peace when they were slaughtering them?”

Gabriel was silent as he was finally forced down near his brother, but Bennett could see that he was trembling. He so badly wanted to go to him, apologize and beg for his forgiveness, but he was still being restrained. He realized with growing horror that he couldn’t fix this. The tears that had had managed to hold back came all at once. Sobs wracked his body. “Gabriel, I’m- I’m so sorry. Your Highness, just punish me, please.”

In desperation, he glanced at Aurelia, who looked as stricken as he was. “Please,” he begged through tears. He saw her stand and reach for her father’s arm, but he turned to her and whispered something to her angrily. She sat back down, looking sorrowful.

The king nodded to the knight standing near Gabriel. “The punishment, as we discussed.”

They were starting his punishment already? Bennett began to panic.

The knight near Gabriel grabbed the prince’s dark curls in his fist and pulled him up so that he was standing. Gabriel whimpered and tried to pull away to no avail. He was still blindfolded, and he flinched when he felt guards grab both of his arms. The shackles holding his wrists were unlocked, but his arms were immediately wrenched behind his back and reshackled. He looked around blindly, trying to understand what was happening to him.

“Benne-“

His frightened whisper was cut off as the knight suddenly wrapped his hands around his throat. Gabriel struggled but the hands only tightened as he was lifted onto his toes. He opened his mouth, trying desperately to breathe, but finding no air.

“Noooooooo,” Bennett moaned, his voice breaking on a sob. He was held back by two guards now - he was powerless. “Please stop, please let him breathe. Plea-ease, I’ll do anything.”

Seconds felt like an eternity. He wasn’t stopping. Time ticked by and he wasn’t stopping. Bennett could vaguely hear jeers from the crowd, this was hell. Gabriel was twitching, barely struggling anymore. They were going to kill him here and now. This had to be a nightmare. Please, let this be a nightmare.

“Enough,” the king ordered. Immediately, Gabriel was released and crumpled to the floor. For a split second, Bennett was sure he was dead, but then he started taking gasping, ragged breaths.

“That’s enough for today. Guards, escort our prisoners to the dungeons and clean them up. They need to be ready for our banquet tomorrow. They’ll be the entertainment for the night.”

Bennett didn’t have a chance to check on his brother before he was dragged away. He was filled with relief that his brother was still alive, but he couldn’t shake the horrible thought that it was selfish to want him to live through this too.

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Continue reading: Next part

#whump #royalwhump #bound #restrained #prisonersofwar #strangled

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whumpty-dumpty · 3 years ago

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You know what, the whump gifmaker guild has grown quite big.

1whump-dump1

99point9percentwhump

@aceofwhump

agonyalley

@animeboyswhump (anime)

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@justwhump

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medicalwhump

mynightingalecomplex

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@paininanime (anime)

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Whump video maker:

wonderer-86

Unfotunately I can only tag 50 blogs in one post. So blogs without the @ are tagged in the comments.

(Did I forget anyone? Or are there more whump gifmakers that I don't know of? Let me know.)

#whump gifs #gifmakers #I didn't know there were so many of us #although I think some may not be active anymore?#whump community

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siren-of-agony · 3 years ago

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Okey, actual introduction post time!

I'm Lea, 29.

I'm never able to actually make short posts, so i'll put most of this under a read more, but here's the summary: I like most tropes so I can't promise that anything will not appear here, but I will tag original posts. I LOVE making playlists did quite a few whump playlists already! I'm also slowly trying to upload some of my writing!

My two Masterposts so far: Duochromatic - (The Taste of Fear)

I have been lurking in the tag ever since I first found it, and have also daydreamed about what I now know are whump scenarios my whole life.

I'm honestly not super picky and like most stuff, so trying to pick my fave tropes feels not rly possible :D like the uquiz by @royalwhumpness told me, I like 'general hurt/no comfort' (i do like comfort, but only when it shows the hardships of actually healing from trauma)

I do however, apart from tropes, love:

Memes, this will not stay serious

Women. I'm a big lesbian, and I just love women in all roles and all narratives, as long as it isn't misogynistic. Also, I'll tag everything w lady whump.

Making playlists! I love music, and I love to use them to daydream, so I make tons of playlists!

I don't really have any absolute nope-tropes, but there's some stuff I'm not a big fan of, so you won't see a lot of this here:

Sickfick/Medical whump etc (if there's anything medical, it will probably be me repackaging my rants about my own body as whump recs :D)

Pet stuff (if, then only the "after" part, since I'm just a bit fan of healing from trauma of ALL kinds)

legal slavery or anything too "society" based, I like it more... personal

non-humanoid creatures getting whumped. If it feels closer to an animal than a human it's just not my deal

People dying (like fine if they're side-characters, fine if it's faked death, fine if it's close to death, just no main character death-death)

Here's a more comprehensive list:

(whump tier list made by @snuffhimout and @coldresolve, click to make it readable)

Also extra shout out to @for-the-love-of-angst and @dont-touch-my-soup for just being wonderful and being my friend even if I just disppear of the face of the earth regularly

Also, some of the blogs which writings and prompts finally convinced me to make this blog so I can finally reblog and comment and like your stuff were @painsandconfusion @hurt-the-innocent-ones @quickhatchwhump @its-getting-worse @trope-appreciation-tuesdays @whumpwillow @patheticlittleguy and honestly, quite a few more, so thank you for that!

I will always tag my original posts with everything I think I should, if I forget sth, pls let me know! I will TRY to tag reblogs but uhhh I'm super forgetful, so be warned.

My pinned post has all the important links!

#whump #whump intro #whump introduction #whump community #whumblr #i always feel weird using tags to actually tag stuff but I just copied what other ppls tagged theirs with #i will also pin this #original post

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peachy-panic · 3 years ago

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Auden Bell-Webb

Okay, so, I started the 1700s whump thing. It’s happening. We’re live, people. And we are going to be extra forgiving of my fumbling attempts to write a period piece of a whole different dialect for the first time. Pls. I had to google so many diagrams of an old british fleet ship for this.

I’m gonna go ahead and tag some people who showed interest on my initial post talking about this idea, but feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to a *real* tag list! @hold-him-down @redwingedwhump @royalwhumpness @thehopelessopus @starlightandpinot @straight-to-the-pain

Warnings: mentioned death of family, starvation, withholding/contaminating food, light mentions of restraints, briefly mentioned attempted noncon (not happening to main character), indentured servitude, wrongful imprisonment

The placement of the ship’s galley, just above the cargo hold where the prisoners were kept, was either a thoughtless act or an intentionally cruel one. Given all that he had gathered from this particularly brutish naval crew, he was inclined to suspect the latter.

Evening stew was on— fish, by the smell of it. Same as yesterday. And the day before that. The aroma of soup and hot biscuits wafted down through the boards of the ship, rolling the ache in his empty stomach into something unbearable, even as it mingled with the thick scent of piss and sweat and body odor that seemed to occupy most of the oxygen down here. The biscuits would be cold and hard by the time they reached him, the soup mostly broth after the fillings had been picked over by the passengers and crew, but he would consider it a lucky day to even be considered for rations before the food ran out.

If the crewmen who oversaw the brig were in the mood for wielding their small powers today, the prisoners below deck may just slip their minds entirely. It wouldn’t be the first time, or even the first time this week.

Auden’s limbs trembled with hunger, having lost most of his previous night’s supper to the violent storm that brought with it a renewed bout of seasickness. Even after what had to have been weeks, now, at sea, his body could not quite acclimate to the constant, unsteady motion of the waters beneath them, nor the odors that wrapped around him down here like a thick, woolen blanket in the peak of summer.

He let his head fall gently against one of the iron stakes that made up the walls of his small prison, clinging to that lingering bit of coolness it offered, and closed his eyes. There was a comfort in it: the smell of iron, the rough texture of its surface against his skin. The irony did not escape him, that the very thing that caged him now was once the center of his life.

By the age of twelve and a half, he had lost both of his parents to illness. Coming from a small family, as they had, there were no aunts and uncles there to take the helm when young Auden Bell was left alone. He might have been crated off to an orphanage or worse had it not been for Orville Webb, the childless widow who worked as the town’s blacksmith. The man had been a father to Auden in every way that mattered. In addition to the trade of blacksmithing, he taught Auden how to be strong and brave and how to stand up for what he believed in— even and especially when it was not the popular belief.

He chuckled to himself, feeling the scratch of his overgrown scruff against the bars. If only Mr. Webb was here now to see that it was exactly that advice that landed him here. Here, being the brig of the ship. Not the ship itself. Though, in a way, he supposed that blame could fall partially on the man as well. If only he had managed to stay alive, Auden might not have been taken by the king's men in his place.

A year of indentured servitude in the colonies, as repayment for the traitorous actions of his adoptive father. That was the official sentence.

Of course, the clock on that year wouldn’t begin until he reached his assigned station. Whenever, and wherever, that was.

Maybe the journey over wouldn’t have been half as bad had he been allowed to reside in the ward of the ship where the rest of the passengers — indentured or not — stayed. The conditions weren’t that much better, but at least they had hammocks to sleep in instead of a pile of soiled straw and some access to fresh air and sunlight. Auden had managed only one night aboard before he got himself thrown down here.

One of the crewmen had gotten piss-drunk, nearly draining his flask dry upon the first nightfall of the journey. Auden had been delivering a stack of linens to the captain's quarters, on order from one of the overseeing officers, when he found the man with his hand up the skirts of one of the maidens he had seen accompanying her brother on the journey. She was young, or at least far younger than the man crowding over her. And she was crying. Auden hadn’t really taken the time to think. Credit it to his fresh grief or the disorientation of his circumstances, or perhaps to the warmth of the ale in his own belly, but there was very little deliberation between the moment he stumbled onto the scene of the crime and the moment his fist was making bloody, crunching contact with the crewman’s nose.

Facts and witnesses be damned, when it was the word of a trusted man of the captain’s and a traitorous hostage, it was clear which one won out. To the brig with him it was. He was only lucky that he hadn’t gotten any more time tacked onto his sentence for the infraction. Regardless, he liked to think Mr. Webb would have been proud of his actions. That is one small comfort he can cling to in this place that hosts so few.

He must have dozed off against the cage door, because when he woke, it was to the obtrusive clatter of footsteps on the ladder; his first peek at sunlight in nearly a day. Auden squinted against it, fighting the instinct to shrink back from whatever visitor had come to see him. He had only one guess, and he was usually right.

“Oi, mornin’ sunshine,” crewman Wesley greeted him, though Auden knew it had to be near sunset by now. “Feedin’ time for the pigs again.” He followed with a series of snorting noises that grated over Auden’s nerves like a dull-edged knife— much like every sound that came from his mouth.

“Your native tongue?” Auden quipped weakly, resenting the crack in his voice as he did so.

Much to Auden’s irritation, Wesley’s expression didn’t lose the arrogant smirk. If not for the bars that separated them or his own weakened state, Auden would have loved nothing more than to remove it himself.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach ya not to pester the ones handlin’ your food?” he chided.

Don’t talk about my mother, he wanted to snap back, but instead settled for, “If you can get away with calling that rat piss you and your mates serve ‘food.’”

Wesley pointed his nose in the direction of the rancid bucket that sat in the corner of the small cell, as far from Auden as he could manage. “Of the two of us,” he said, “you’re hardly the one to be speaking of piss. Ya reek of it.”

Maybe if you would do your job and change out the bucket every once in a while. Auden bit his tongue, knowing his smart mouth would get him nowhere in this position, and also — begrudgingly — recognizing that he had a point. It wouldn’t be wise to antagonize his only direct access to food. Especially when he was already dazed and shaky from hunger.

“Saved the good stuff just for me, I presume?” Auden said, reaching an iron-shackled hand through the bars for the soup. He pulled taut against the chain in an effort to hide the tremor.

A yellowed line of crooked teeth peeked below his upper lip as he smiled down at him. “Only the best,” he said cheerfully. “Nothing I wouldn’t eat myself. In fact…”

Auden’s stomach dropped as Wesley moved his gaze to the bowl in his hands, tilting his head in consideration. When he brought the bowl to his lips and began to drink back the broth, Auden let his hand fall to the wooden planks below, defeated. It was fine. This was fine. Human bodies could last weeks without food. He had lasted days before, when times were at their hardest. He could do it again now, and he wouldn’t give this bastard the satisfaction of watching him suffer when he decided to steal his food.

But instead of swallowing, Wesley brought the bowl down after just one swig, holding a mouthful of the stew behind closed lips. He watched Auden directly as he swirled it around in his mouth, tipping his head back to gargle in his throat. Then, to Auden’s sinking horror, he spit the liquid back into the bowl.

“I’ll give your compliments to the chef,” he said, holding the dish out to Auden with a gnarled smile. When Auden only glared back at him, Wesley dropped the bowl to the ground just outside the bars of his cell, kicking it a few inches toward him, hard enough that some of the yellow-brown broth sloshed over the side.

“Enjoy.”

Auden sat still and tensed, his eyes focused blankly on the wall ahead of him as he listened to the footsteps retreat up the ladder. He didn’t blink until the slam of the overhead door covered him in shadow once again. Even then, he took a few moments to just breathe, forcing the equal parts anger and despair to simmer in the pit of his stomach. Neither would do him any favors now.

In the dim light of the cell, he forced his eyes down at the bowl beside him, lip curling in disgust. His hand hovered in midair, his body urging him toward the only source of food he would receive today or possibly longer, while his mind recoiled. He closed his fingers around the rim and tugged it closer before picking it up and bringing it up to his chin. It wasn’t hot anymore, but it wasn’t completely cold either, and the smell of salty broth made his mouth water, even as his stomach twisted. Auden closed his eyes.

“Dammit, Webb,” he whispered into the quiet of the cell, and then immediately regretted it. If there was any part of his spirit that lingered with him, any chance that his mentor could see him now from the afterlife, he knew Mr. Webb would die all over again with guilt for the way his own actions had ricocheted back on Auden. He didn’t want him to feel guilty. He had only ever done what was right and what was good and decent, even when it didn’t align with the morals of King & Country. Especially then. He had done everything in his power to give Auden a good life when the odds were stacked against him.

He didn’t hold this against him. He didn’t want to, at least. He wouldn’t. Not when there were so many other places to direct his hatred now. And not when there were so many more parts of him that could use the energy he wasted on hating anyone. If he was to survive the following year — and the perilous journey that got him there — to gain his freedom, he would need to keep his strength in any way that he could.

Auden pinched his eyes tighter, so hard that he saw explosions of color set off behind his eyelids, and with a deep breath, brought the bowl to his lips.

Just as the surface of the warm broth reached his lip, his mind got the best of his instincts, and his stomach heaved, sending the familiar burn of bile into his throat. He swallowed it back and brought the bowl away from his mouth. Then, in a burst of rage that shot through his limbs like fire, he hurled the bowl at the far wall as hard as he could, watching the contents splash across the darkened wood, the dish clattering onto the ground and rolling into the darkest corner of the cell where he could no longer see it. It was almost definitely in his own head, but still he winced at the sound of laughter just outside the hatch door above.

Bringing his legs up to his chest, Auden let his head fall forward against his knees, grateful that he was the only one in the cell at the moment so that he didn’t have an audience to his despair.

He did not cry. He would not let them break him that easily. Not when he had so far left to go. Not when his true sentence had not even yet begun.

#whump #whump writing #period piece #cw: starvation #cw: withholding/contaminating food #cw: restraints #auden bell-webb

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royalwhumpness · 1 year ago

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I can’t give any tips on the One piece anime bc I haven’t seen it but what other anime did you end up enjoying?

So I think the first anime I ever watched all the way through was surprisingly Ouran High School Host Club, which is like “you don’t like anime but you watched that?” Yes. Yes I did and I loved it. I can’t explain it lol

I liked Black Butler (season 1 only), Attack on Titan (have not watched past season 2 or 3 I think), and Death Note. I think there’s like one or two more shows that I’ve seen but I can’t think of them at the moment. I tried to get into My Hero but I couldn’t.

I categorize Studio Ghibli movies as anime which I’m pretty sure is widely acknowledged, but I have met people who disagree. Either way I love me some Ghibli.

Did you watch the one piece live action? If you did what’d you think??

#ask RoyalWhumpness #thank you for the ask!

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killian-whump · 3 years ago

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Your love for Collin is so amazing and I LOVE seeing your adoration for him come across my feed ❤️ it’s extremely heartwarming and it really brightens my day 😊

OHHHH! Your ask is extremely heartwarming and now my day is brightened as well!!! 💗💗💗💗💗💗

Thank you and bless you, my sweet friend!!! 💗

#kw ask box #royalwhumpness #<3

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thecrystal-cave · 2 years ago

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10 characters 10 fandoms 10 tags

Thank you @maarigolds 💙 for tagging me!

1. Merlin - Merlin (BBC)

2. The Tenth Doctor - Doctor Who

3. Emori - The 100

4. Bart Curlish - Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency

5. Rumplestilskin - Once Upon a Time

6. Julia Wicker - The Magicians

7. Oswald Cobblepot - Gotham

8. Helena - Orphan Black

9. Detective Llewellyn Watts - Murdoch Mysteries

10. Max Mayfield - Stranger Things

@raggedymangoodby @purple-eye-octopi @thewalkingbucky @joker1315 @mobi-on-a-mission @royalwhumpness @nemiworshipper @supergoldenknight @daftydraw @awesomenell65 Tagging also anyone who wanna do it!

#tag game #favourite characters

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royalwhumpness · 1 year ago

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What is your favorite whump trope that you love best? You can only pick one, so choose carefully, LOL!

-- @whumperofworlds

Omg, let me first just… cry tears of joy that you sent me an ask 🥹🥹

Oh god, only one????

Im definitely a hurt/no comfort fan, so I love the idea of someone getting absolutely tortured in front of their lover who is powerless to help. (Even better that any attempt at helping only makes the whumper torture them more!)

#ask RoyalWhumpness #thank you for the ask!

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royalwhumpness · 2 months ago

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Beetlejuice Beetlejuice - Reimagined [Fanfic Chapter 2]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bob is not in this story.

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

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

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

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

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

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