#i’ve known in my heart the moment i first encountered The Fairy Queen that she was evil

[xbomboi]

and when i say this bitch is secretly an evil and corrupt ruler then what

will you all still stand by me

[samstree]

splash of the waves, and the sand castle crumbles (1/?)

Geraskier, Prince!Jaskier, fairy tale elements but with a twist, fluff and angst, 6.9k, rated T

Read on AO3

Geralt finds himself drawn to the prince despite himself. As he and Jaskier grow closer, war also looms on the horizon. It's the stuff of fairy tales, but can a witcher find his happily ever after in the time of heartbreaks and deaths?

“Ma?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened next?”

“The farm girl became a princess and married the prince. They lived happily ever after,” she smiled, her eyes so warm in the candlelight.

“But what next?”

“Happily ever after, sweetie. It means there will only be happiness for the rest of their lives.”

She places a kiss on the top of his head and blows out the candle. Her hands are soft and gentle when she tucks him in.

“Ma?”

“Yes?”

“Will we live happily ever after?”

She pauses in the darkness.

“Of course, my darling. Now you need to close your eyes—”

“Like the prince and the girl?”

“Even better.”

“But she married the prince. How can it be better?”

She sighs. The warmth of her palm brushes across his forehead, making his eyelids droop heavily.

“Your future holds much more, my sweet boy. You will find out tomorrow when you wake up.”

Sleep overcomes him. Indeed, he dreams of fairy tales and royal balls, magic spells and grand weddings.

The next morning, he wakes up believing in those happy ever afters.

*

Sometimes, when stones are thrown and pitchforks raised, Geralt regrets ever doing so.

*

The crown prince of Aedirn is a beautiful thing.

His pale blue doublet shines under the bright morning sun, the silvery embroidery sparkling in the light. A big smile —that ever-so-friendly smile that Prince Julian is known for— spreads across his face as a man with blond hair riding next to him speaks. Windswept brown hair brushes over his eyes, obscuring his youthful features.

Everything about him screams royalty. Privilege.

Even his horse is the most nicely-groomed white stallion Geralt has ever laid eyes on.

Prince Charming needs the whole get-up. The witcher snorts behind the bush, observing the royal convoy. It’s too small and moving way too slowly. They must have let down their guard because of the proximity to the castle. If Geralt were to assassinate a royal, he would choose to do it here as well.

It doesn’t take long for the first one to approach from the side of the road, hiding behind the shrub just like Geralt. The man in black works silently and quickly, but not as quickly as a witcher.

Geralt strangles him from behind, gripping tightly until the man passes out. A crossbow falls to the ground. The convoy travels ahead, unaware of the witcher disposing of a deadly threat to their prince’s life.

The swoosh of an arrow pierces the air.

“Protect the prince!”

Two dozen assassins in the same black suit appear out of thin air, charging into the royal guards’ formation. In an instant, the heap of pale-blue is tackled to the ground. Swords clash as more men start yelling.

“Fuck.”

Dodging a stray arrow, the witcher rushes into the chaos. The small convoy being overwhelmed by the incoming force, they hardly notice one of the assassins circling around the battle and moving directly to the prince. With a few long strides, Geralt stops the man with a clean strike.

“What—” the prince scrambles back at the sight of blood, looking at the witcher’s towering form with disbelief.

“You need to come with me,” Geralt says, before hauling him up by the collar of his doublet.

*

He half drags the prince to the hide-out. It’s only a cave where he left Roach earlier, but it should be enough. The young man slumps down against the wall, breathing heavily.

“Why are you—”

“Shh.” The witcher quickly crouches on the ground and presses his palm over the prince’s mouth. Distant footsteps disappear in another direction, before he slowly lets go. “We should be safe for now.”

In the quiet of the cave, he can hear the prince’s pounding heart, his eyes blown wide like a startled deer. Specks of blood smear across his cheeks, making him appear even younger.

“My men?”

“These are hired assassins. They will disperse once you are gone.” Geralt is surprised at how gentle his voice comes out. “Are you all right?”

“I—” the prince swallows, and looks down to his bicep where the flesh is grazed by an arrow. The wound is shallow and slowly seeping blood into the torn fabric. Geralt reckons that it should be fine left alone. “I’m fine. I—I’m…fine, yes. I’m alive.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, both in shock and relief. The prince tries to appear unaffected but the overwhelming panic in his scent betrays his seemingly neutral expression.

“You are lucky it didn’t go through your heart.” The witcher leaves him to check on Roach. Sensing the danger in the air, the mare has stayed quiet this whole time. He pats her mane in thanks. “Didn’t think the prince of Aedirn was this careless.”

“I didn’t think witchers got themselves involved in political squabbles either.” Cornflower blues meet Geralt piercingly, despite his shakiness. “I know who you are,” he chuckles tightly. “The witcher, Geralt of Rivia.”

Geralt grunts.

“I didn’t get involved.”

The prince only gestures to himself, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve saved your ass. Now you can return to your castle and pretend we’ve never met, your highness.”

“Please, call me Jaskier.” The prince stands, patting the blue silk to get off the dirt and wincing when the movement tugs at his arm. “Aren’t you curious as to how I learned about you? Your fame precedes you, witcher.”

The young man meets his gaze assuredly. There’s no trace of fear in his scent.

People usually learn about Geralt one way—his moniker is not something to be escaped. But the prince doesn’t act like everyone else who meets the Butcher. Or at least, he hides it well.

“Are you not scared for your life, prince?”

“It’s Jaskier. And no, I’m not scared by the Butcher, if that’s what you mean.” There’s a knowing glint in his eyes. “I know you from a… mutual acquaintance, let’s say.”

“Oh?”

“Filavandrel mentioned you.”

“The elf king who hides in the mountains?” Geralt frowns. “I never really knew him. Not for more than a day.”

“No? He spoke of a white-haired witcher who was paid to hunt his people. Only that witcher left his own coin purse to them upon finding out about their circumstances. It showed compassion that no human had ever shown them, witcher. From his description, I thought the elven king and you shared a moment that day, or rather, an understanding.”

“Only of men.” He pauses. “Haven’t you come to the same understanding? Or why else would the prince of Aedirn make a target of himself by providing shelter to elven refugees?”

Geralt remembers his encounter with the elf king vividly, his anger and despair. The path took him back to Lower Posada years after that day. His curiosity drove him back to Dol Blathanna, only to find a much larger settlement and an exploding population of elves and other non-humans. Not only that, everyone there spoke of the kindness of the prince, who gave equal status to all sentient creatures on Aedirn soil.

“I see someone did homework on me.”

“People here sing your praises on the street day and night. It seems half the country has fallen in love with you,” Great admits begrudgingly.

“And the other half dislikes that I’m giving land away. Land that could have been providing for humans. The other half of my country believes I’m crazy just like all the other kings and queens in the north.”

The prince steps into Geralt’s space.

“You see, Geralt of Rivia, I cannot change the war that others deem just. I cannot stop the Lioness of Cintra from slaughtering elves and non-humans alike on the other side of the Yaruga. All I have is a piece of land in the Blue Mountains and, perhaps, I can provide them the means to rebuild. Those settlements are only a start.”

“It sounds like a noble cause, prince, but I’m not sure how much you can achieve.”

“Sometimes,” the prince’s attention shifts to Roach. “I wonder the same thing. The continent won’t change overnight just because one kingdom decides to show them a little bit of decency. The same decency that we humans are treated with all along.”

The young prince falls silent, his hand reaching out to touch Roach’s mane but retreats when she snorts anxiously. Geralt shushes the mare with a carrot from the pack.

“And I think, my friend,” the young prince continues. “Despite your claim of neutrality, you are on my side.”

“I’m not your friend.”

“No? But I wish to become yours. After all, you just saved my life so selflessly and gallantly,” he proclaims dramatically. “You should have seen yourself, Geralt. So brave with a sword, like a knight from the stories! If we were in a fairy tale, this is where I offer myself to you in eternal gratitude.”

“Are all princes this cheeky?”

“I don’t know. Are all witchers this heroic and beautiful?” Blue eyes roam up and down the witcher’s body, before meeting his gaze with clear interest.

Geralt grunts, ducking away from direct eye contact with the prince. Suddenly the air in the cave feels too warm. He clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Are you being shy, Geralt the witcher?”

The teasing comes so naturally for the prince. Gods, is that why all the maidens out there are so enamored with him? With those easy smiles and dreamy blue eyes, as soon as he throws in some flirtatious words, any inexperienced country girl would swoon upon meeting with him.

What fools they all are.

“We are not in a fairy tale,” Geralt says, palming his face. “Don’t expect a happy ending from this, my prince.”

“Jaskier,” the prince repeats insistently. “Although I do like the way you call me ‘my prince’. I’d certainly like it more if we were in a… different situation.”

He raises an eyebrow suggestively, and Geralt wonders if he can un-save this ridiculous man’s life.

“Fine then. Jaskier.”

The prince, who insists his name is a flower, smiles smugly for having gotten his way.

“But why?” he then faces Geralt head-on, his voice steady. “Why help me? If you don’t seek the favor of a prince, and the conflict never concerns you?”

Geralt blinks.

He’s not sure what drove him to the decision. The only emotion he had upon hearing about a price on the head of the crown prince was unease. The witcher has seen the war and how all the non-humans were killed with little reason, their corpses a feast for ghouls. The prince of Aedirn made himself an enemy to many realms by taking in all the refugees.

It wouldn’t sit right to let him die.

“I was in Cintra a month ago,” Geralt answers.

Jaskier tilts his head.

“So was I. I went to negotiate the relocation of the defeated elves with Queen Calanthe.” Something dawns on him. “You heard something, didn’t you? Was this assassination ordered by her? The negotiation ended up a complete waste of time, but never have I thought she could resort to such a dishonorable way of killing. No matter how much she must want to get rid of me permanently… Oh, I—I never thought…”

The prince—Jaskier trails off, his face drained of blood.

“I only learned about the bounty on your head,” Geralt explains, confused by the prince’s sudden show of weakness. “Hired swords get quite loose-lipped after a few drinks. As to where the order came from—"

“Wait, I…"

A pained grunt escapes the prince’s throat. He sways on his feet ever so slightly, but steadies himself with a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. They both look down to where the wound is still trickling slowly, soaking his sleeve with a patch of dark crimson.

“Wait, I thought…” Geralt reaches out to hold Jaskier’s arm. His palm comes away covered in blood. “Shit, it shouldn’t be bleeding this much.”

“You followed all the way from Cintra, just to stop them from killing m—" Jaskier breaks off for air as Geralt rummages through his pack for bandages. The prince clenches the fabric over his chest, as if something is hurting him from within. “So much for… n—not getting involved.”

“Shut up, prince.” Geralt’s fingers reach the bandage. “Or Jaskier, or whatever flower you prefer.”

A strained smile contorts into a grimace on the prince’s face, his knees buckling.

“Shit.” The witcher barely manages to catch his limp body before his head hits the ground. Blue eyes become unfocused as his head sags against Geralt’s shoulder. “Jaskier? Prince? Can you hear me?”

Geralt inspects the wound on his arm closely for the first time, and that’s when his witcher senses pick up on the faint trail of bitterness.

“It’s poison,” he mutters and curses under his breath.

Jaskier whimpers weakly upon hearing the words, his eyes filled with full-blown panic. For the first time that day, the witcher senses potent fear in the prince’s scent.

Or is it his own?

Geralt can’t tell.

*

Roach is almost at her limits. The weight of two grown men puts a lot of tires her way too quickly, but Geralt doesn’t dare to slow down, not until he can see the castle walls.

“Don’t die now,” the witcher murmurs into the prince’s ear, who is slumped against his chest, half-delirious and slurring nonsense. The make-shift tourniquet on his arm is soaked through with specks of blood.

The poison is attacking his heart, Geralt notices. It’s also speeding it up, disrupting its rhythm. It’s the vicious kind, one that is designed to make the victim suffer before they die.

Jaskier’s face is white as a sheet, and his lips are turning a sickening purple. The trembling comes and goes, making it harder to keep him in place. His blue eyes roll back, and for a moment, Geralt thinks he’s lost him.

“We are here, prince. Do you hear me?” The gate opens when the guards realize that their prince is brought back injured. A lot of people are shouting but it’s all a blur when Geralt carries the prince down from the mare’s back. “Just hang on, Jaskier.”

Jaskier clings, his heartbeat fluttering dangerously.

They take Jaskier away with force, his limp hand slipping from Geralt’s grip. Someone kicks the witcher behind the knees, sending him to the ground. Weapons suddenly appear at his throat, stopping him from going any further.

“G’ralt…” Jaskier protests, his hands grabbing blindly.

“He needs a healer!” he shouts at those guards who only seem to be interested in restraining him.

Cornflower blues are fixed on golden yellow. The prince’s skin is covered in sweat, his lips quivering, struggling to form words. It takes a second for the witcher to realize that he’s talking to the guards.

“He saved my life. Don’t… He saved…me,” Jaskier chokes out a breath, and Geralt feels those guards release him.

The witcher is left kneeling as more men surround the prince and rush him inside. They’re either fussing over Jaskier or calling for help. His faint heartbeat gets lost in the commotion.

“Wait, is he going to—"

The gate shuts in his face. The last thing he sees is Jaskier collapsing in someone’s arms.

*

No word about the prince comes out for months. Not about the assassination. Not about his poisoning.

Rumor says that he was gravely injured during the attack, and that he has been bed-ridden since returning from Cintra. Some even suspect that he’s already dead.

*

“…I opened the envelope and it was an invitation from the prince!”

“It was magical, wasn’t it? He doesn’t show up for ages and suddenly we are all invited to a ball! In his castle! A royal ball where anyone can attend, no less! I heard he will choose one to marry tonight.”

“Although I heard he’s sick for quite some time…”

Geralt ducks his head while listening in on the two women’s conversation. They are each dressed in a luxurious ball gown, their faces powered and lips painted. Like everyone else in the room, they are trying to impress the prince at his first outing in months.

But that is not why he is here.

Geralt has been lingering in Aedirn since that day, when he sent Jaskier back to the castle with poison coursing through his veins, not knowing what would become of him. Months of dead silence only make his stomach sink further.

A chance presented itself when news came out that the prince will hold a ball to the public.

It only makes sense that he should go and check, just to make sure Jaskier is all right. After all, he doesn’t want to put in all the effort to save someone only to never know if he will end up fine.

He will see for himself that Jaskier is well, and then he will leave.

He will not get involved.

Of course not.

Geralt takes another sip of the wine, surprised at the buzz it gives to his temporarily human body. When the mage sold him the potion that could hide all visible witcher traits, she did not mention it would also slow his metabolism to an ordinary human’s.

“The disguise will expire at midnight, when the bell strikes twelve.” Luckily she didn’t forget about this.

What a cliché.

It seems that no mage can resist a touch of dramatics.

For now, he looks like another random lord with dark hair and brown eyes. She also threw in a spell to turn his clothes into a silky ensemble in a muted black color.

“His royal highness, Prince Julian!” someone announces.

The crowd turns their eyes to the top of the stairs, where the heavy wooden doors open in everyone’s anticipation. One of the two women lets out an audible gasp as the prince steps out.

And there he is, Jaskier.

Those blue eyes are bright as the sky, those cheeks rosy-pink. He’s a picture of health compared to the last time Geralt held him in his arms. The witcher lets out a relieved sigh he never knew he was holding.

A smile spreads across the prince’s face. Suddenly the wine isn’t the only thing making Geralt all warm and fuzzy inside.

The prince descends the stairs with such elegance, his doublet a pristine ivory color under the chandelier’s sparkling light. The clothes sit perfectly on his frame, but with a heavy heart, Geralt realizes that he’s also lost weight.

It’s minuscule, and the puffy sleeves hide it well, but it’s there. Bed-ridden for a long time, they say. The witcher swallows the lump in his throat.

The crowd parts for the prince, retreating to the edge of the dance floor. No one dares to breathe as they await his invitation to the first dance.  Once the dancing starts, the music will be too loud and the people too busy, giving the witcher a window to easily disappear into the night. But Jaskier continues to search through the crowd as if he has a specific someone to look for.

Before Geralt can even react, blue eyes have locked with his. The piercing blue makes him instinctively want to hide, but the witcher is frozen to the spot. The prince walks directly towards him, the grin spreading even wider if that is possible.

“May I have the first dance?” Jaskier reaches out, his palm facing up.

Countless eyes fall on Geralt, making his skin prickle, but he pays no mind. All he can focus on is the prince’s expectant look. Even now, without his witcher hearing to know Jaskier’s heartbeat, he can see the tentative hope in the way Jaskier seems to hold his breath.

Geralt takes his hand.

*

The royal garden is quiet under the night sky. The cool breeze is nice on Geralt’s skin, the faint hum of cicadas a soothing balm to his ear after hours of music and dance.

“Apologies. I was getting a little… uncomfortable in there.” The prince leads the witcher to a bench. His hand rubs at his heart like it’s bothering him.

“Are you well, my prince?” Geralt helps him sit down.

“Please, call me Jaskier.”

Geralt pauses. Does Jaskier tell his preferred name to anyone? Even a stranger he just met at a ball?

“Why Jaskier?”

“It’s the person I dream to be,” he answers wistfully but adds nothing to explain. Geralt wonders why a prince could possibly dream to be another person.

“I see.” He nods. “Are you feeling alright, Jaskier?”

The prince’s eyes soften as he reaches out to tuck a lock of curly brown hair out of Geralt’s face. The movement is so gentle that the witcher can’t help but catch his hand, holding those slender fingers in his palm.

They are way too slender, he thinks. Repressed worry bubbles up in his throat again.

“I’m fine now.” Jaskier squeezes his hand reassuringly. “Although I haven’t been for a few months, as you already know.”

“Uh…yes.” Geralt splutters. This closeness, combined with the touch of skin, seems to be slowing his brain. “There are rumors, from outside the castle. It was an attack, wasn’t it? At least that’s what I heard.”

“It was. They used poison, no less. The healers told me that it weakened my heart, even stopped it for a few seconds.” He chuckles sadly, threading their fingers together and pressing both their hands over his chest. “The pain still comes and goes these days, but I cope.”

The thumping underneath Geralt’s hand is rhythmic. Calming. It feels so fragile, especially now that he knows how little it takes to stop it. To snuff out the light in those cornflower-blue eyes along with it. And yet, this heart keeps beating.

“I’m glad you survived, Jaskier.”

The name comes out reverent, like a prayer.

“So am I, my friend.”

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

Moonlight frames Jaskier’s fond expression, giving it a soft glow. Long lashes cast a shadow on his faint blush. A grin spreads across the prince’s face when he answers.

“I hope? Or maybe I can hope for more. After all, this ball is held so I can find my future intended in the crowd.”

The implication makes Geralt’s breath hitch. He blinks.

“You don’t even know my name.” 

Jaskier’s eyes darken as he leans in. His hand comes up to cradle Geralt’s chin. “Somehow, I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

The crisp night air is mixed with the fresh smell of grass, but on top of it is a floral scent that reminds him of spring and hope. Geralt lets his senses be overwhelmed by the prince, by his soft breaths ghosting over his skin and those enchanting lips well within reach.

Not getting involved, the back of his mind screams.

Despite himself, Geralt meets Jaskier halfway, their lips a hair’s breadth away when—

The bell strikes. Once, twice…

The noise is the loudest wake-up call, turning Geralt’s blood to ice. What is he doing? Is it midnight already? Fuck… he needs to get out of here before the magic expires.

“I need to go,” Geralt blurts out. “I have to leave right now. Ah… I’m so sorry.”

Jaskier’s brows knit together in confusion. “What is wrong? I thought you—”

“I came here to make sure you are all right, Prince Julian. Nothing more. It was never my intention to let you believe there could be anything else.”

The prince’s face dims at his apology. The dejection on his face tugs at something in Geralt’s chest. It leaves him wanting, but there’s no time. The bell counts down his sentence.

He takes Jaskier’s hand and places a simple kiss there, and turns to leave, only to be halted by the prince’s tightening hold.

“Wait, you don’t have to go."

“You don’t understand,” Geralt’s voice quivers with urgency. “It’s important that I leave.”

Those gentle fingers wrap around Geralt’s steadily, Jaskier’s skin cool against his. The prince continues to ignore his plea. If anything, he steps closer.

“Stay. Please.” Jaskier whispers, and it’s all it takes.

The witcher can break free easily, but for some reason he is unable. For some reason, he feels the weakest he has ever been under the intensity of Jaskier’s pleading gaze.

To his horror, the magic fades. Geralt can feel his hair change and grow longer, his teeth sharpening. The flow of chaos stings his eyes that are certainly turning back to yellow. His face crumbles.

And yet, Jaskier never wavers.

If anything, the adoration in those stormy blues only grows, ever so beautifully, as the swirl of magic circles around Geralt, revealing plain clothes instead of silk. 

The bell strikes twelve.

The sound still echoes in the air. Slowly, with the utmost determination, Jaskier’s fingers thread through what is now silver-white hair. Tears glisten in his eyes.

“You told me we were not in a fairy tale, and yet, you try to leave me at midnight. You tried to leave me here under the stars. Alone and heartbroken.” The prince lets out a wet chuckle. “Because you think I wouldn’t recognize the man who saved my life. You think I wouldn’t know the witcher who’s risking everything right now just to see that I am well. I’d know you anywhere, Geralt of Rivia.”

Jaskier’s feather-light touch continues to trace the shell of Geralt’s ear, the tiny scar under his eye, and then finally, the corner of his mouth. It’s not often, in his long life, that Geralt gets his breath taken away, least of all by a prince.

“How?”

“I suspected,” Jaskier whispers. “Or rather I hoped when I saw you in the ballroom. I prayed. That it’s you.”

“You danced with me because—”

“Because I wanted to thank you properly. We were kind of in a hurry last time.” The prince teases, his palm tilting Geralt’s chin. “May I?”

He nods.

As if in a dream, soft lips press against his, tasting of salt and moonlight. Geralt lets out a tiny gasp as Jaskier opens him up patiently and draws it out like they have all the time in the world. Like he’s something to be treated with gentleness. Something to be treasured.

He pulls away panting, only to realize that tears are rolling down Jaskier’s cheeks freely, so he catches them with the pad of his thumb.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Geralt shushes him, but Jaskier sniffles with a smile.

“I’m not upset. Trust me when I say these are tears of joy.” Red-rimmed eyes sparkle like the stars. “But Geralt…”

“Yes?”

“Will I see you again?”

Geralt blinks. He only sneaked into a royal court with one goal. Now that he has achieved it and more, there’s nothing that should bring him back to Jaskier again. His heart twists painfully at the idea, and words tumble out of his mouth. The last of his sanity screams against it, and yet his heart has made the decision.

“I hope, Jaskier. I can only hope to see you again.”

Jaskier beams as he presses another kiss to Geralt’s wrist.

“That is enough for me.”

*

“Your longing eyes grieve what is lost

But naught can change this parting harsh…”

Jaskier’s voice echoes hauntingly. In front of him, the elven family sits huddled together, listening intently. The two children are concentrating so hard that they are almost falling off their parents’ laps. Finally, as the soft strumming of the lute comes to an end, they start clapping with passion.

From a distance, Geralt can only see the prince from behind, but somehow he can sense the big smile Jaskier returns to those excited children. The wind in the Blue Mountains ruffles his brown hair. Jaskier continues to take off the strap and carefully hands the lute to the elven woman.

The witcher approaches quietly.

“…thank you so much! It is such a beautiful instrument.” Jaskier’s voice is warm and welcoming. She’s certainly charmed when they keep talking about music and folk songs.

Geralt stands there and lets Jaskier’s presence wash over him. In the end, it’s the other woman who notices him and gestures in his direction.

Jaskier turns his head and beams.

“Geralt! What brings you here?”

With a few long strides, the prince rushes over and slams their bodies into a bear hug. Anyone who’s not a witcher might have been knocked over by the force, but Geralt catches Jaskier steadily.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you!” Jaskier exclaims as he presses a chaste pack to the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “I haven’t seen you since the manticore hunt.”

“It was still weird that you would want to come with me on hunts.”

“What is life if not to see your favorite witcher in action?” Jaskier waves it off as if a prince getting monster gut all over himself is a common occurrence. He checks Geralt all over. “Anyway, how’s the path treating you, my dear? Any injuries? Exciting stories?”

“The path is fine.” His excitement is too contagious that Geralt feels his lips tug upwards. “And it hasn’t been long. Two months at most.”

“Nonsense. Any amount of time not seeing you feels like ages.”

The parents lead their children away, the girl still humming the song from Jaskier’s private performance.

“I didn’t know the prince could play the lute. Or sing,” he teases.

“Ha! I’m full of surprises, you shall see! Besides, I always thought—” Jaskier cuts himself off, ducks his head before continuing. “I always thought that in another life, I would have been a bard.”

“Would you?”

“Mm-hmm. I would travel the continent, write songs about heroes and adventures. With a lute on my back, I could go to the edge of the world and beyond. Maybe even meet some interesting people, find my muse, or… fall in love.”

He winks at Geralt cheekily when the witcher realizes something.

“So is Jaskier the stage name you picked? For this bard life?”

“Why yes.” Jaskier sounds so surprised. “How do you know? Oh, my dear witcher, you do understand me like no one else! Not even Valdo is a match to you, no matter how well he claims to know me.”

The mention of Valdo Marx’s name sends a pang of bitterness through Geralt, though he has learned long ago that it’s irrational. The prince’s life-long friend, now an important right-hand man, is the most devoted advisor in Jaskier’s council. He’s supported Jaskier in everything throughout his life, having done nothing wrong by the prince, and yet, Geralt can’t bring himself to like the man.

Maybe it’s because of his too-shiny blonde hair. It gives him a headache if he stares at it for too long. Maybe it’s his all-knowing eyes that tend to judge the witcher silently every time they meet. The distrust is too typical for politicians such as him.

Or maybe, it’s because anyone with eyes can see how Valdo is desperately in love with Jaskier, but apparently, it’s not that obvious to the prince himself.

“I know because only you will have a tacky name like Buttercup for your professional career.” The words come out more sour than Geralt expected.

Jaskier squawks with rightful indignation, and Geralt can’t help but snort out a laugh. It’s truly too easy to rile him up.

“It’s just hard to picture.” The witcher continues, while taking Jaskier’s hand. “Someone like you, with soft hands like these. It would take a lot of hard work if you want to make it as a musician. I’m not sure if my prince is up for that job.”

Jaskier slaps him on the arm offendedly. “I’ll have you know, Geralt of Rivia! I am perfectly capable of enduring hardship for the right cause! Now that was truly rude of you to assume that I am spoiled just because I’m a prince! Really, it’s very unbecoming of you!”

“Hmm.” Geralt tilts his head, amused. “And what is a right cause in your book?”

All jokes dissipate after that question.

The prince looks around to the new camps and make-shift houses, everything illuminated by the setting sun. Bonfires are lit where families are gathered after dinner, laughing and dancing together, despite the hardship that brought them here.

“I want everyone on my land to live happily, no matter how they came to Aedirn. I wish they could all see it as a home,” Jaskier says sadly. “That is the most important cause in my life, Geralt. Although I’m not sure if that’s just a fantasy.”

Geralt squeezes the prince’s hands gently. They are exceedingly soft, and cold to the touch. The witcher used to assume that Jaskier just runs a little colder than the average person. But later, to his dismay, he found out that it’s yet another result of the poisoning.

He never wants to see Jaskier’s chest pain flare up again. He never wants to see Jaskier bend over in agony, his hands turning into blocks of ice from the lack of blood flow, his face skin covered in sweat in an instant. Just witnessing it happen almost gives Geralt phantom pain. What’s worse is that there’s nothing he can do but wait it out, holding Jaskier close and rocking him back and forth slowly.

At least he’s now feeling contrite. Teasing Jaskier about not being strong enough was a low blow, when in fact, the young prince is the furthest from deserving such an accusation.

He doesn’t need swords or muscles to be strong.

Jaskier is strong for his stubbornness and his unwavering faith. The elven settlement around them is the best testament. He carried on despite being hated by all other kingdoms, despite the attempt on his life, one that was nearly fatal. One that still hurts him in the quiet of the night.

“Fantasy or not,” Geralt’s insides melt at the way Jaskier looks at him expectantly. “I’d like to see it through with you, if you allow me to.”

Blue eyes suddenly sparkle with renewed excitement.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Geralt?” Jaskier asks carefully as if he could spook the witcher. “Are you finally saying yes to my proposal?”

“I’m considering it.”

“You’ve been considering it since the first time I asked!”

“You asked on our third ever meeting, Jaskier.” Geralt chuckles in exasperation. “And you’ve been asking every time we see each other.”

“And you’ve been giving me the same response every time.” His pout is too adorable Geralt wants to kiss it away. “One might suggest it’s rude to string a prince along like this.”

Geralt hums while cupping Jaskier’s jaw in his palm, tilting it so their gazes meet.

“One might also suggest that our beloved Prince Julian is too good for a witcher like me.”

Ho only means to joke but the smile on Jaskier’s face falls, hurt immediately replacing the earlier chirpiness.

“Shit, Jask… Forget I said that.” Geralt closes his eyes, regretting having ruined the moment.

“Darling, we talked about this.”

“No, you’re right. Of course…”

Jaskier takes the witcher’s hand and places a kiss in his palm. “I won’t allow terrible things to be said about the man I love, and that includes you, my dear. I’d hate it if you joined those senseless folk who can’t see you for the good man you are.” He bites into his lower lip. “Now, I understand if you have reservations about us. I mean, what I am… or what I do, is a lot. I won’t rush you into a decision anymore. I never meant to pressure you.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Jaskier.” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. “We are from completely different worlds. Anyone who has eyes will tell you we’re not compatible.”

“Did Valdo say something to you again? Or is that truly what you believe?” Jaskier takes a step back. “Do you wish to end things with me? I—I’ll understand if you want to—"

“No, Jask.”

“—I know how much I’m keeping you in Aedirn, and maybe you wish to be free of court rules and politics and—”

“Jaskier.” Geralt interjects, and cornflower blues meet him in earnest. He knows too well how the prince could spiral out of control, dredging up all the terrible scenarios hidden in the dark corner of his mind. Jaskier looks so lost right now and all Geralt wants to do is make it better, so he does it with action, as always.

He kisses Jaskier with a bruising force. It’s too rushed, too clumsy compared to the gentle caress they normally share, but it conveys everything Geralt cannot promise yet. Not out loud. Not right now.

Geralt threads his fingers into the hair at the nape of Jaskier’s neck, playing with the soft locks. He lets Jaskier lean against his shoulder when they break off the kiss.

“I’m yours, my prince,” he whispers.

“Have I told you how much I love it when you call me that.”

Geralt hides his amusement in soft brown hair.

“Many times, my prince,” he indulges Jaskier. “And yet I cannot help but worry. I fear that things will not work because of our differences. I am a witcher. I am the Butcher of Blaviken, no matter how noble you believe me to be. I will never become someone else. Not like in fairy tales, where a farm girl can transform into a princess and suddenly become worthy of her prince. I fear you’ll make too many compromises because of who I am, bear too many scrutinies, and you will end up resenting me.”

Jaskier shakes his head at those words, his hair ticking Geralt’s ear.

“You speak of my sacrifices, but what about you?” His hand rests between Geralt’s shoulder blades. “You’ve walked the continent for so long. Will you resent me for caging you in a castle because of who I am?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt breathes the name solemnly. “You promised to never trap me in the drudgery of court life. You promised that no matter what we become, I can always return to my path when my heart desires. I trust you on that.”

“And I trust you in return, that you won’t dishonor me. Not in ways that matter.”

They pull away. The sun is hanging just on the horizon, drawing a golden line around Jaskier’s hair.

“I will ask one thing of you, my prince,” Geralt says. “Allow me more time to be sure. Of myself and of our future.”

Jaskier’s eyes crinkle at the corners, taking the witcher’s hand and presses it over his heart, where the doublet is left wide open. The warmth of his skin seeps through the thin chemise and into Geralt’s calloused palm.

“Don’t you see, my darling? I’d give you the stars if you asked. What is a little more time?” His chest rises and falls. “Although I need you to promise something as well.”

“What is it?”

The last of the sunlight fades, darkening Jaskier’s eyes like a stormy night.

“Don’t break my heart in the meantime.”

The plea comes out desperate, vulnerable. Under his palm, Geralt feels the soft thumping that he knows to be fragile.

“I won’t,” he breathes the words reverently. “I promise.”

Jaskier’s heart is so full of the world and its sufferings, so full that there’s hardly room left for himself. So full that the witcher should build a shrine for whatever gods out there that it gives him any attention. To think that he has any power over it, that he can hurt it easily, makes his stomach turn.

He’d live out his life fulfilling that promise if allowed.

*

The witcher walks the path just like he’s done for the past decades. Temeria’s wind is as freezing as ever, and its secrets even more so.

Another dangerous contract is nothing new, and yet, something in him shifts. Somehow, the days ahead are no longer painted with monotonous black and white, but an unpredictable mixture of colors—orange like the setting sun on Jaskier’s long lashes, or rosy-pink like the too-easy blush that dusts over his cheeks when he’s pretending to be unaffected by Geralt’s attention.

More often than not, he sees in his future the blue of Jaskier’s eyes, deep and vast like the sea.

The same blue is what flashes across Geralt’s eyes as the striga’s teeth bury into his neck. With the crypt cold and hard against his back, the witcher would laugh at the irony of it if not for the blood choking in his throat.

Funny how the moment of revelation does not come in a whirlwind of poetry, one that is befitting to Jaskier. The moment Geralt realizes that he is finally ready to take Jaskier’s hand might just be his last moment.

He drifts into bottomless darkness and wakes to cool fingers on his forehead.

And here Jaskier is, sitting by his bedside, his frame so lonely in the Temple of Melitele. A relieved sigh by his lips and tired bruises under his eyes. Gone is his composed regality. Jaskier looks like he hasn’t slept in days, like he just rode all the way here with wind still in the tousled mess of his hair.

“Yes,” Geralt croaks.

The prince rushes forward to fuss over his bandages and splints, cooing with the most distressed frown. “What do you need, my dear?”

“Yes.” Geralt takes Jaskier’s hand, caressing those cool fingers. The stitches in his neck tug uncomfortably.

“Yes, I’ll marry you, my prince.”

---

Tagging: @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard​ @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @theultimatenerdd

Are the tags working? Anyway feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[captains-log-reviews]

Disney’s Peter Pan (1953)

Summary/Overview:

I’ve been considering a Hook-themed review blog for some time now, and what better way to start off than with the classic 1953 Disney film? Originally slated to be Disney’s second animated film after Snow White, the idea for a production of Peter Pan was in Walt’s mind long before it hit the big screen. Walt himself had played Peter in a school play as a boy and had retained a fondness for the story ever since. The first major film version to feature a boy (Bobby Driscoll) in the titular role, Disney’s Peter Pan has since become perhaps even more widely known than Barrie’s original. That being said, I think it’s probably unnecessary to give much in the way of a summary, but for the sake of developing a consistent format for my reviews, here’s the super quick version:

Wendy Darling, a young girl with an active imagination and a love for storytelling, is distraught when her practical father decides that it is time for her to grow up and move out of the nursery with her brothers. Later that night, after her parents have gone out, Peter Pan—the flying boy hero of Wendy’s stories—shows up at her window and offers to take her and her brothers to Neverland, a magical island with mermaids, “Indians,” and pirates where they will never grow up. Unfortunately the kids get caught up in the plans of Captain Hook, who wants revenge on Peter for cutting off his hand and feeding it to a crocodile. Ultimately, Hook captures the children and nearly kills Peter with a bomb in the guise of a present from Wendy, but Tinkerbell, Peter’s loyal fairy friend, saves him just in the nick of time, allowing Peter to free the children from Hook’s crew and fight the captain in a final duel that results in Hook being chased off into the sunset by the crocodile. Wendy and her brothers return home safely, and Wendy realizes that she isn’t so afraid of growing up anymore...only to have her father admit that maybe holding onto her childhood a little bit longer wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

What I Liked:

Those of you who followed me over here from my other Hook blog, not-wholly-unheroic, already know that I am more than slightly biased when it comes to Disney’s Hook. I distinctly remember the first time I saw him on screen when I was twelve. The sequel had just come out on video, and ABC was doing its usual Sunday Disney movie (and advertising) by showing the original Peter Pan one weekend, followed by the sequel the next. I was bored and had never watched the film before, so I decided to give it a shot...and I was instantly struck by how different Hook was from any Disney villain I’d previously encountered. While most of the classic villains are motivated by greed, vanity, or the desire for power, Hook’s feud with Pan is at least somewhat justified considering he not only lost a hand but also faces the constant threat of the crocodile as a result of our supposed hero’s actions. Additionally, prior to Peter Pan, Disney’s major villains (Queen Grimhilde/The Evil Queen, Lady Tremaine, the Queen of Hearts) were typically rather flat and lacking in personality. We see only their wicked side (or in the case of “Man” in Bambi, we don’t see them at all!). Hook is a major departure from this trend in that while he is clearly made out to be the bad guy, we also see him in moments of fear, weakness, and self-doubt. We see him sick and in pain and ready to give up at times. Suddenly, he isn’t just a villain anymore... He’s a person we can empathize with. Walt himself recognized that the audience would “get to liking Hook” would not want him to die as he does in Barrie’s canon, opting instead to have him “going like hell” to get away from the crocodile but ultimately still very much alive at the end of the film.

Aside from Hook himself, I love the dynamic he has with Mr. Smee. While Hook admittedly doesn’t treat Smee well, there is clearly a bond of trust between them. Early on in the film, for instance, Smee prepares to shave Hook with a straight razor. It’s a moment that is ultimately used for comedic effect, but when one considers that Hook has a crew full of literal cutthroats, it says a lot about Smee that Hook feels totally at ease with this man putting a blade to his neck. Smee repeatedly attempts to intervene to save Hook when he doesn’t have to, and Hook unfailingly looks to Smee when he’s afraid for his life or when he needs to send someone out to complete an important mission for him. It’s a villain/sidekick dynamic that borders on friendship, and I think it adds a lot to the film and to Hook’s complexity as a character.

As far as artistic choices go, it is a rather minor thing, but I love that they kept the stage tradition of using the same actor for both Mr. Darling and Captain Hook, giving the film a rather dreamlike feel and subtly reinforcing the enmity Wendy feels toward her father in real life as she faces off against Hook in the Neverland. Speaking of the actor, Hans Conried isn’t just voice for Hook, as many would assume... He IS Hook as much as any live-action actor could be. I love the old hand-drawn animation style and how they used to use the actors as live-action reference models. (You can see some shots of Hans as the reference model vs the final images of Hook in the film here.) If you’ve ever seen a recording of Hans in one of his other roles, you’ll notice he doesn’t just SOUND like Hook...he makes the same facial expressions (particularly in how he speaks with his eyebrows) and hand/arm motions. It’s small details like this that make Hook (and all the characters) more human and show just how much time, effort, and love the animators put into their work.

What I Didn’t Like:

RACISM. With a capital “R.” There’s no sugar-coating it. Unfortunately, Disney’s film falls victim one of the many problematic tropes of the time when it was made and portrays the island’s native characters as highly caricatured, ignorant, and—in the case of Tiger Lily—romantically exotic people. Their signature song, “What Made the Red Man Red” is lyrically painful to modern listeners with any sense of decency, and the villagers’ character design—from their bright red skin to their large noses and often extreme body shapes (very fat or pencil thin)—along with their badly broken English is highly uncomfortable, to say the least. On the other hand, Tiger Lily, the most realistically drawn native character, is shown dancing flirtatiously for Peter and subsequently rubbing noses with him in what is meant to be a sort of native kiss (based on the concept of the “Eskimo kiss” which in and of itself is not a politically correct term).

Aside from the glaringly obvious issue of racism, my only real complaint with the Disney film is the music. While the songs are pretty standard for films of the day, I personally don’t find most of the music particularly memorable or catchy. “You Can Fly” is alright, I suppose, but the next few songs have their issues. “Following the Leader” and “What Made the Red Man Red” both have racist undertones, and Wendy’s lullaby, “Your Mother and Mine” puts the kids to sleep for a reason... It’s sweet but rather boring and drags on for far too long to keep the audience’s attention. Less time on the lullaby and more pirate sea shanties, please!

On the flip side, Hook is arguably the first Disney villain to get his own theme song, which is pretty cool. The original pirate song (which you can find here) is a bit more sedate than “The Elegant Captain Hook” we end up with and focuses more on the joys of pirating in general than why Hook, specifically, is someone the kids should want to work for. Personally, I’m glad they chose the song that they did, though I do wish they’d given Hook more lines as originally planned. (You can find the lyrics to the full version here.)

Would I recommend it?

Despite its flaws, Disney’s Peter Pan has had a major impact on the legacy of Peter Pan and how we view the characters as well as Neverland itself. It has long been a personal favorite of mine and acted as a gateway into the fandom for me. It introduced me to Hook as a likable, sympathetic, and complex villain and I’ll always be grateful for that. I definitely recommend it to anyone entering the fandom, those with a fondness for the nostalgia of classic Disney films, and kids at heart of all ages.

Overall Rating:

As much as I love the film and want to give it a perfect score, I’d be remiss if I didn’t deduct at least a few points for the depiction of the “Indians.” Otherwise a lovely version of the story so... 4/5 stars

[allgirlsareprincesses]

Another Search for the Lost Husband: Reylo as the Ballad of Tam Lin

This was originally going to be just a short post (HAHA) to cover a variation of the Search for the Lost Husband folktale type that wouldn’t fit into my previous metas, but then I did more research and BUCKLE UP, friends, because there’s lots to unpack here. Among my illustrated fairy tale collection is a version of popular Scottish ballad Tam Lin retold by Jane Yolen, and I noticed pretty quickly that this was another Cupid and Psyche tale (ATU 425) when I was doing research for my first post on the same topic. With the benefit of further research on Swan Maiden tales and various ways to disenchant fairy husbands, I realized that the Sequel Trilogy aligns surprisingly well with Tam Lin, and the story may offer yet more clues as to the ultimate fate of our heroes in The Rise of Skywalker.

While there are many, many different versions of the Ballad of Tam Lin (which dates to at least 1549 and probably well before), the basic outline of the story is thus: In the Scottish borderlands, young women are warned not to venture into the enchanted woods of Carterhaugh, where the faery prince Tam Lin dwells to steal their symbolic or literal maidenheads. A headstrong maiden, usually called Janet or Margaret, brazenly defies this warning and enters the wood to seek flowers, or to lay claim to the land which she says is her birthright. When she plucks a rose, Tam Lin appears asking by what right she enters his wood and “breaks his wand.” Unintimidated, Janet tells him that she is the rightful heir to Carterhaugh, and that she will come and go as she pleases.

Tam Lin then takes Janet by the hand or the waist, and she returns home to discover she is with child. When her family realizes it, they try to pressure her into marrying a suitable man, but Janet declares that her baby’s father is a faery whom she will not forsake. She returns to Carterhaugh to question Tam Lin as to whether he was ever human. The faery prince shares his sad story, that he was a mortal man who many years before was traveling in the wood when he fell from his horse and was abducted by the Queen of the Faeries and forced to serve with her knights. He tells Janet that he has been a captive for seven years, and he fears that on Halloween he will be offered as a tithe to Hell. However, Janet may free him if she carefully follows his instructions for breaking the enchantment.

[Original Art by Wylie Beckert]

At midnight on Halloween, Janet returns to a crossroad or bridge in the enchanted wood once more to carry out her lover’s rescue. When the faery company appear, she sees the knights on black, brown, and white horses. Recognizing Tam Lin on the white horse by his signal of having one glove off, she pulls him from his mount and holds him fast. The Faery Queen demands his return but Janet refuses, so the Queen transforms Tam Lin into a series of terrifying beasts in his lover’s arms. They bite and scratch her, but still she holds on until finally Tam Lin becomes a burning coal or cinder. At this moment, Janet plunges the fiery coal into a well, and Tam Lin emerges as a naked man. Still following his instructions, Janet throws her green mantel over him protectively, and the Faery Queen must acknowledge that the curse is broken, lamenting that she did not replace Tam Lin’s heart with stone and his eyes with wood.

That might seem like a lot of unnecessary detail, but what’s fascinating is how closely the Sequel Trilogy tracks with the folktale. To begin with, we have the menacing faery prince, Kylo Ren, who threatens the righteous and is feared throughout the galaxy. The heroine, Rey, ventures into a forest and finds him there, after we have seen rose imagery once in her AT-AT home on Jakku, and the “broken wand” in the form of the legacy lightsaber that she discovers in Maz’s castle in the same wood. She has in that sense “plucked” the rose which rightfully belongs to the Skywalker child, thus summoning him to demand of her why she treads on his birthright. When Kylo tries to intimidate her in the interrogation, she rebuffs him by turning his own powers back on him.

Just as Tam Lin takes Janet by the waist as a sign of his sexual conquest of her, so Kylo Ren lifts Rey into the distinctively romantic bridal carry in The Force Awakens. While Rey is of course not pregnant after this encounter, a bond has been forged between them, which is effectively the purpose of the pregnancy in the folktale: it signifies that the lovers now belong to one another and that they have a bond that is not easily broken. Soon, we learn more of Kylo Ren’s tragic past, that before he was the faery prince, he was a mortal man, Ben Solo.

Much as Tam Lin fell from his horse to be then abducted by the Faery Queen, young Ben fell from his path when his uncle Luke betrayed him, then turning to the controlling and manipulative Snoke. We further learn in the novels, comics, and other supplemental content that he was twenty-three when he fell to the Dark Side under Snoke’s tutelage, and we know that he is twenty-nine in The Force Awakens. We have been told that the events of The Rise of Skywalker occur roughly one year after TFA and The Last Jedi, which means that by the end of the story, Ben Solo will have spent seven years as a captive of the dark otherworld. In the folktale, Tam Lin has been a captive of the Faery Queen in her realm for seven years, after which he loses her favor and fears that he will be offered up as a sacrifice to Hell on Halloween.

A note about Halloween in this tale: Scottish folklore blends pagan and Christian traditions in its stories, so this holiday can also be understood as the Celtic celebration of the new year, Samhain. This was a time of change, when the barrier between the mortal world, underworld, and faery worlds became very thin and the likelihood of the dead visiting the living was high. This might not have had sinister undertones when it was first practiced by ancient Celts, but with the arrival of Christianity, such pagan rituals were assigned demonic connotations, which is why Tam Lin expresses his fear that he will be sacrificed to Hell (as he claims the faeries do every seven years). On Halloween, the faery company will cross into the mortal world, which is when Janet will have a chance to rescue her lover.

In the trailer for TROS, we hear Palpatine rasp “Long have I waited, and now, your coming together will be your undoing.” It seems from all the hints that have been dropped so far that the timing of his return is due to some event that offers a conduit from whatever state he’s in to greater influence over the mortal world. He’s either returning in corporeal form, or he’s somehow able to control the corporeal world enough to threaten our heroes and the galaxy as a whole. There are various theories as to how this might happen, but the point is that Palpatine has mythologically been confined to the otherworld since Anakin chucked him down the Death Star II shaft, and only now, at the same moment that Ben finishes his seventh year on the Dark Side, can Darth Sidious return.

Still more parallels appear when you consider the Knights of Ren, though we don’t know their full story yet without Charles Soule’s much-anticipated The Rise of Kylo Ren comic run. However, just as the Faery Queen forced Tam Lin to join her company of knights, so it seems that Snoke manipulated Ben Solo into joining the Knights of Ren and finally becoming one of them. In the folktale, several of these knights ride forth before Janet is able to identify her lover, a motif suggested by the appearance of the helmeted Knights in TROS along with the now-helmeted Kylo.

But how does Janet identify Tam Lin? He has one glove removed as he rides. This is certainly an image that appears in the Sequel Trilogy, as Ben Solo removes one glove to touch Rey’s hand in TLJ. It is this action that finally allows her to recognize him as his true self rather than as Kylo Ren. As I’ve discussed in other posts, seeing or knowing a lover is often the key to rescuing them from the dark power of the otherworld, as is being seen and known oneself. The removal of the mask and the removal of the glove serve the same purpose: these allow the mortal lover to recognize her true husband and claim him as her own.

While we eagerly await the ending of the Sequel Trilogy and the saga as a whole, the folktale offers tantalizing clues as to what might happen. In the ballad, Janet must hold tightly to Tam Lin as the Faery Queen transforms him into various beasts and finally into a burning coal, in an effort to make Janet release him. This Protean motif might appear in TROS as Palpatine trying to convince Rey that Ben is not who she believes him to be, that he is a monster beyond saving. The motif of fire is also likely to appear, as leaked concept art suggests that Mustafar is likely to make an appearance in the final film. Transforming into a fiery coal is another expression of burning the beast’s skin, a sort of baptism by fire which cleanses the faery husband of his beastly form.

Speaking of baptism, the last thing that Janet does to save her beloved is throw the burning coal into a well, after which Tam Lin emerges as a naked mortal man. The connotations here are obvious: the healing power of water appears in all mythologies, so the well in this instance serves to douse the fire and baptize the fallen prince, both healing and cleansing him of his connection with the faery realm. Many have theorized that Rey’s association with water in the production design suggests she may gain healing powers, but even if she’s not the explicit agent of Ben’s healing, we know that water in several forms will factor heavily into his redemption, as we’ve seen both snow and a raging ocean in the trailers so far. It seems likely that Ben Solo will rise from the water at some point a new man, no longer under the power of the Dark Side and ready to be united with his true bride.

While the original ballad does not record much beyond the Faery Queen’s anger at losing Tam Lin, the children’s book version I have has Janet marrying her prince and having children with him at Carterhaugh, her inheritance of which kicked off the whole story. This enchanted wood is the magic of the folktale, so it seems to me much like the Force is to Rey and Ben Solo. Ben was the original inheritor of a Force legacy, but after his fall, that legacy eventually went to Rey. Only when they are united can the Force be new and whole again, rather than the forbidding ruin it has become. This is why I find it so intriguing that John Boyega said he had expected Episode IX’s title to be “Heirs to the Force.”

So there you go; yet another rambling post about how the Sequel Trilogy is totally the Search for the Lost Husband and Rey is going to get her man by the end of TROS. I hope you liked this latest installment, and please let me know if you discover other variations of this folktale!

[its-r-i-d-i-c-u-l-o-u-s]

Call Me A Freak- Chapter 3: Auradon Prep

Words: 2,263

Warnings: mentions of death, anxiety, mentions of violence, swearing

Ch 2 | Ch 4

~ ~ ~

As we got deeper into Auradon, my heart rate increased. I knew nothing about this place. I could name every street, building, and person on the Isle, but here? I was lost. And I felt utterly alone.

I had known Evie, Jay, and Carlos for so long, practically my whole life, and I had never entrusted anything in them. All my secrets were my secrets.

It was all because of my mother. I knew her plans (not that I had believed she would ever complete her dream of getting off the island) and they didn’t include Jafar, Cruella, or the Evil Queen. No… they were all expendable. And so were their kids.

If I got close, I would just end up losing them, I was sure. And tears over spilled blood would simply make me look more expendable to her, too.

It was once we approached the school that I realized how awful going to Auradon Prep was going to be. The kids all cheered outside as our limo approached. Some had banners or flags, others simply waved to us as we drove by. At the front of the school, the band played a quick celebratory piece, in full uniform.

We were the center of attention. The main attraction. They’d probably be watching our every move while here. How could we pull this off?

The driver pulled open the door for us. There were a few hesitant looks. No one wanted to get out.

Jay grumbled something, before pushing past Carlos and getting out of the car. I was quick to follow, with Evie and Carlos behind me.

As soon as I stepped out I had to cover my eyes with the back of my hand. It was so bright outside. Evie was also shading her face, while the boys squinted and locked their eyes to the floor.

As the band stopped playing, they parted and out walked an older woman in a light blue outfit and two kids our own age.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to dull the aching in my head as I adapted to the strange new surroundings.

“Welcome to Auradon Prep!” this new woman announced in a modulated voice. The entire group in front of us had on wide smiles. “Are the four of you alright?” she added, when she noticed how very uncomfortable we were.

“It’s never this… sunny on the Isle,” I muttered through gritted teeth. My hands found their way to my hips as I tried to act powerful. My mother was indeed quite the legend and even if I didn’t want them to think I was a bad guy, I wanted their respect.

From the corner of my eye, I could make out Jay looking the girl to the right up and down.

The woman in the middle must have noticed too, because she cleared her throat before saying, “I am Fairy Godmother, headmistress.”

My eyes narrowed. It couldn’t be that easy, right? The others also shifted uncomfortably, looking between them.

The boy on the left stepped forward, politely. “It’s so good to finally meet you all. I’m Ben.”

“Prince Benjamin,” said his female counterpart, who stepped forward with him. “Soon to be king!”

He looked down, the smile on his face becoming a bit tighter as she spoke. My eyes drifted between them, noticing some sort of tension there.

Evie leapt forward slightly at the mention of prince. “Oh! My mom’s a queen as well, which makes me a princess,” she flirted.

The girl’s face scrunched up almost immediately. “The Evil Queen has no royal status here,” she informed. “And neither do you.”

Evie’s face dropped. She backed up beside me as Ben chuckled nervously.

“This is Audrey,” he introduced.

“Princess Audrey,” she butted in once more. “His girlfriend.”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek. She was his girlfriend. That might explain her sense of superiority. But not his tension as she grabbed his hand and swung it around.

“Ben and Audrey are going to show you all around,” Fairy Godmother smiled. “And I will see you tomorrow.”

She reached down, putting her hands over Ben and Audrey’s. It could have been a comforting gesture if she didn’t push them apart a second later.

“The doors of wisdom are never shut!” she announced. “But the library hours are from 8-11 and as you may have heard I have a little thing about curfews.”

We all nodded, unsure what else there was to say.

She scampered away, followed by the band.

Once we were the only ones left outside, Ben clapped his hands together, a smile gracing his face once more.

He walked around to shake all of our hands, approaching Jay first. “It is so, so, so good to finally meet-” his voice cracked a minute as Jay punched his shoulder rather than shake his hand. “-you all.”

I shook his hand quickly, not interested in making friends with the boy for any reason, but he paused once he reached me, his eyes lingering for a moment too long, almost as if he recognized me.

“This is a momentous occasion,” he continued, moving onto Carlos. “And one that I hope will go down in history as the day our two peoples began to heal,” he finished, shaking Evie’s hand and backing away.

“Or the day you showed four people where the bathrooms are,” I replied, snarkily.

He chuckled, looking at me. “A little bit over the top?”

“A little more than a little bit.”

His face was soft. Much more kind than anyone I’d ever encountered before. Part of me was on edge, knowing that sweet talkers often had ulterior motives and yet, a part of me was comfortable around him.

“Well, so much for my first impression,” he laughed and you found yourself joining in slightly.

“Hey!” Audrey interrupted. “You’re Maleficent’s daughter, aren’t you? Yeah, you know what? I totally do not blame you for your mother trying to kill my parents and stuff.”

I almost choked on my own saliva, my eyes widening immensely.

Ben was also obviously very unhappy that Audrey had decided to bring this up and his eyes dropped down to his shoes once more.

“My mom’s Aurora,” she boasted. “Sleeping Beauty.”

I had to keep myself from leaning away from her… or punching her in the face. Both of them were tempting.

“Yeah,” I responded. “I’ve heard the name.”

That’s all that I could manage to say without my anger getting the best of me. But I did notice Jay and Carlos closing in around me. Perhaps a warning or getting prepared to hold me back if needed. Whatever the matter, I was glad to have them there.

Ben clapped his hands together once more. “Okay! So, how about a tour? Yeah?” He turned on his heel, gesturing to the school in front of us. “Auradon Prep! Originally built over 300 years ago and converted into a high school by my father, when he became king.”

Audrey quickly latched herself onto her boyfriend’s arm and followed him around campus. The four of us shared a look of unease, before moving on. We didn’t exactly expect to meet the spawn of our parents’ sworn enemies so soon.

But I did my best to reassure them that I would be fine around her and proceeded to follow Ben through the front garden.

~ ~ ~

“So,” I started, trying not to look impressed by the detailed architecture of the dorm rooms. “You guys can use magic here, huh?”

Behind me, Jay was making mental notes of everything valuable and Evie was just about to puke from elation.

“Yeah, it exists.” Ben stopped to face us. “But it’s pretty much retired. Most of us here are just ordinary mortals.”

I couldn’t help the grimace that graced my face. He was trying to be humble, but a king isn’t on even ground with the poor, no matter how much he tries to convince them that he is. “Who happen to be kings and queens,” I grumbled.

“That’s true!” Audrey claimed. “Our royal blood goes back hundreds of years.”

I was starting to regret reassuring the gang that I wouldn’t happily throw her to the ground. I could really use someone holding my arms back right now.

“Doug!” Ben exclaimed, dropping his arm from Audrey so that he could meet up with the band member who was distractedly walking down the steps to meet us. “Doug, come down.”

The boy met Ben at the bottom of the steps, turning to face us. He had a kind face, similar to Ben’s, however I found myself appreciating Doug’s a bit more. Doug just seemed like the kind of person who would care if you were an asshole, whereas Ben wouldn’t be able to find a bad bone in someone’s body. So, when Doug smiled at us, I saw someone who genuinely thought we were good people. At least… for now he did.

“This is Doug. He’s going to help you with your class schedules and show you the rest of the dorms.” He walked back to Audrey’s side and said, “I’ll see you later, okay? And if there’s anything you need feel free to-”

“Ask Doug,” Audrey interrupted.

I would have socked her right there and then, if it weren’t for the fact that I realized something. I was the one who was setting her off. I thought she just had the worst personality in the world, and she might, but this wasn’t just… Audrey. No, this was Audrey when she’s upset or uncomfortable. Angry, even. And suddenly, I liked being around Audrey. Because it meant I was doing something evil while I was stuck in this hell place.

She smiled and dragged Ben off without another word.

“Hi guys. I’m Dopey’s son. As in Dopey, Doc, Bashful, Happy, Grumpy, Sleepy…” Doug trailed off and I turned to find his eyes locked on Evie. “Hi ho,” he mumbled.

“Evie,” she smirked, glad to find someone impressed with her charms on this island. “Evil Queen’s daughter.”

It was almost poetic. We just couldn’t escape our parents’ pasts. But at least Evie got some geek who didn’t seem to care for where she came from. My goody-two-shoes counterpart wasn’t exactly jumping to be my friend.

Doug looked down at his clipboard, trying to distract himself from the girl now poised in front of him, eyes wide. “So, about your classes. I, uh, put in the requirements already: History of Woodsmen and Pirates, Safety Rules for the Internet, and, uh, Remedial Goodness 101.”

I scoffed. “Let me guess. New class?”

He nodded, glancing between us and stopping once more on Evie, who was now twirling her hair between her fingers.

He cleared his throat, looking away once more. “Here. I’ll show you to your dorms.”

~ ~ ~

After we had set our stuff in our own rooms, Evie and I made our way over to the boys’ new room. They had already made themselves at home, Carlos playing some sort of game on the tv and Jay sorting through all he had collected on the way over.

“Jay,” I called, making my way over to the bed he had everything laid out on. “What are you doing?”

“Stealing,” he admitted, pulling out a laptop and flipping it open.

“Okay. So, you could do that or you could leave all of this here and pick it up when we take over the world,” I said slyly.

Evie, who sat on the edge of Carlos’s bed, gasped. “You sound just like your mom.”

I muttered a quick, “Thank you,” in response, knowing I should be proud, but I couldn’t care less at the moment.

“You do it your way and I’ll do it mine,” Jay responded, but I shook my head.

“Uh, uh. You don’t get to jeopardize the rest of us for your dad’s dumb store, alright? People are going to notice their missing stuff pretty fast and who are they going to blame?”

Jay threw the laptop on the bed, sighing. “We’re bad guys. They must have expected this.”

“Seriously Jay, we can’t give them any reason to send us back. Think about what our parents will do to us if we don’t break that barrier.”

Carlos jumped down from in front of the tv and laughed. “More like what your mother will do to you.”

I sent him a glare and he shut up immediately. I knew none of their necks were on the line like mine was, but they still were being pressured. Their parents also wanted to escape the Isle.

“Evie, mirror me.”

We sat at the table and Evie pulled out the small hand mirror her mother had given her.

“Mirror, mirror on th- In my hand,” she corrected. “Where is Fairy Godmother’s magic wand… stand?”

The mirror shifted, focusing in on a plaque located outside a building. The sign read, “The Museum of Cultural History”.

“Can the mirror tell us where that is?” I asked, but Carlos was already on it. He pulled out the new laptop Jay had scored and looked it up.

“2.3 miles from here.” He showed us the map between the school and the museum, all laid out neatly.

I looked over the screen, shaking my head. “This place is surrounded by forests and hills. There’s no way we could walk it.”

“So, we find a ride?” Jay suggested.

Evie was quick to agree. “Tomorrow we can ask around and see if there’s an easier way to get there.”

“Great,” I groaned. “Now we have to go to school tomorrow.”

[youremypride]

Prom Night

♫ Carmel is said to be the most romantic city to visit for lovers for a short vacation or honeymoon. Known for its natural scenery and beautiful sightseeing places, Carmel is truly a lovers’ paradise. Over the years, the number of visitors had increased, mostly couples, but not because of its beauty or enchanting little town. Every town has a story, and every story holds a belief, and if you had the chance to encounter it, will you pass on that opportunity? Maybe this would interest you. Perhaps you have heard about Carmel’s tale of the Lavender Lovers?

Pairing: AHS! Michael Langdon x Reader

Genre: romance, angst

Warnings: trigger warning for depression and suicide, underage drinking

Note: I needed a story in which Michael isn’t seen as an anti-christ and just a normal human being for once. I wrote this story based on Joji’s Slow Dancing in The Dark because it was so hauntingly beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. Also, it is influenced by Are You Afraid of The Dark’s tale of the Prom Queen in some ways. I had this overwhelming burst of sadness this weekend because of the song that when I watched the music video for it, I keep seeing him as Michael in a white suit, lol. I have to say, it’s not one of the best I’ve written and the story sounded better in my head than it is with words. I hope you all like it, feedback is welcomed, thank you :) Go listen to Joji now! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YPMVR3gJBLY

Word Count: 5307 words

February 29, 1956.

It may seem like a typical day, but not for the seniors of Carmel High School. It was the most important night of their lives, one filled with great enjoyment and lasting memories they could reminisce on when they grow older.

Prom Night.

A significant event that happens once in every girl’s life. One day where they can show off their elegance and beauty while still in the early years of their prime. Battering up their faces with makeup, spotting a new hairdo in trend and not forgetting about the expensive prom dresses.

A turquoise 56’ Bel Air Chevy convertible drives up to the driveway and parked into place. A young man emerges out from the car, spotting a white suit with a black bow tie around his neck. His golden hair was slicked back with layers of gel to keep it looking fresh and perfect, with tiny strands of soft curls just ending by the tip of his cervical. In his hands, was a soft lavender corsage laying neatly in its box.

He starts walking up the pathway leading towards the front door. Once he reaches the porch, he takes in a deep breath and exhales it out, chanting positive words in his mind to boost up his confidence. Rapping his knuckles against the door, he straightens himself out for the last time.

He could hear footsteps coming from behind the door. A beautiful woman appears behind it, smiling at him, causing the corner of her eyes and mouth to form wrinkles. She welcomes him to come inside, greeting him with a loving hug and tells him to wait at the foyer before calling out the name of her daughter, his lover.

Standing at the top of the stairs, was a young woman. Dressed in a long sleeveless hemline sweep cut fairy dress with a sweetheart neckline. The dress was made from silk, satin, decorated with small soft pearls beaded along the neckline and a sheer layer of fabric to top it off from the waist down. The colour of the dress was a paler tone of lavender than the corsage he was holding.

She was simply breath taking.

The very sight of her made the young man’s heart tingled in excitement and his eyes twinkled in delight. He had the widest grin on his face, almost as to say, “I can’t believe she’s mine.”.

The woman gracefully took small steps as she begins descending the stairs, almost floating even. She had tugged the end of her dress higher to prevent her from falling. As she reaches the bottom, the man reaches out his hand as the woman slips her hand into his.

“You truly are an amazing beauty, Ms. L/N.” His compliment had caused the woman to blushed a rosy tint on her cheeks. After two years of courting, the littlest of compliment had never failed to make her feel so shy, causing the man to always tease her when he had the chance, much to the woman’s delight.

“And you look quite dashing yourself, Mr. Langdon.” He chuckled at her compliment making her laugh as well. He brings out his other hand from behind, showing the corsage that he had for her.

The moment she placed her eyes on it, her hand had fluttered to her chest, trying her best to calm herself. “My, my, Michael. That’s the most exquisite looking corsage I’ve ever seen. Where did you get this from?”

“I made this myself, actually. I wanted to make it more special. Lavender was the perfect colour to use, seeing as the flower is in full bloom now. Not only that, it holds so much meaning for a flower. It represents refinement, elegance and grace and they are often considered the most delicate and precious due to their sacred place in nature, just like you. A flower like you comes once in a lifetime.” As soon as those words escaped from his mouth, tears had started trickling down the woman’s cheeks.

The man hurriedly wipes the tears away with the softness of his thumb, careful not to smudge her make up. “Stop crying, you’re going to ruin your make up, baby.”

The woman playfully nudges the man’s arm. “Well, it’s your fault for being such a sweet talker.”

The woman’s mother had gone off to grab her camera to get pictures of this special day. “Alright, hurry up you two. Get closer to each other. Oh my god, you both look so adorable!”

The man takes the corsage out of the box before slipping it on the woman’s wrist. The woman admired its beauty before being nagged by her mother to snap out of her daze.

Few clicks here and there, and the pair of lovers are off.

Like the gentlemen he is, the man opens the passenger door for his partner, before going around the driver’s side and slipping into his seat. The car’s roof was open so they could see the dark night sky with the stars scattered across it. It was as if someone had poke holes through a black canvas, with light emitting through it. If one could hear how the stars sound like, it would sound utterly sad and heart breaking, constantly awaiting their time before bursting out the last of its energy and fading out to die.

“How about a little music along the way?”

“Sure.” The man turns on the radio, turning the knobs trying to find a good station before landing on one, a pleasant melody starts to play, almost letting your body to sway to the music.

“They’re playing The Five Satins! I love this song. It sounds so romantic yet so haunting beautiful, don’t you think?” The woman chirps.

“I couldn’t agree more.” The man starts his engine and drives down the road, one hand steering the wheel and the other, wrapped around the woman’s shoulders, cuddling her closer to him.

The drive to the hotel where the Prom was held didn’t took long, a good twenty minutes at least. By the time the pair had arrive, the function hall was already packed with the seniors of Carmel High. They spotted familiar faces of their friends, drinking away the punch as if it was beer while some of them had already been dancing on the dance floor with their partners.

One by one, all their friends soon left them to dance, leaving the pair by the table. The music coming from the speakers was booming super loud with fun, fresh and funky retro music to dance along to. It continued on until the DJ starts to play something new, a slow song, one that could easily be recognised by the woman.

Taking it was a cue, the man stands up and stands in front of his partner. “Care to dance, my lady?”

She took his hand as the man twirls her around. “I thought you never ask.”

When they approached the dance floor, the woman places her arms around the man’s neck while he places his on her waist. Slowly they begin to sway to the melody of the music, eyes only looking at each other and no one else. Gently, the man places his forehead to rest against the woman’s, giving her his signature smile, one that she had adored since they first started dating.

“I wish we didn’t have to slow dance in the dark. They could at least get better lightning in here other than that disco light they keep recycling over the years.” The woman chuckled, surprising the man.

“It’s better that way, so that you couldn’t see me blush every now and then.”

“Does our close proximity making you feel shy, baby? We’ve been dating for two years now. I’m surprised you’re not used to this by now. I find it cute. You’re so cute.” His teasing only reddened the cheeks of the woman, and she was silently thankful he couldn’t see her face at that moment.

They partied all night long and danced till their legs gave way. They had so much fun, they didn’t bother to check the time. And did I mentioned the pair even won Prom King and Prom Queen? Even the captain of the cheerleading team and her quarterback boyfriend felt frustrated and baffled they didn’t win the title, considering how popular they were. Angered, the cheerleader left the hall screaming bloody murder with her boyfriend trailing behind her.

Once Prom ended, it was time to leave.

“Let’s go home, Michael. You could stay over and we will binge watch on those horror movies they air late at night.”

“Sure, but before we do, I want to show you something.” The man suggested.

“Okay? This better not be one your schemes of terrifying me to death again.” The woman warned. She had too many encounters of her boyfriend pranking her so much she’s amazed she was still breathing and alive.

“No, no more jokes. I promise.” Bringing up his hand, he held out his pinky for the woman to laced her pinky around his. “Good.”

“Where are you taking me? This route leads to Blackteeth Forest. It’s getting dark and there’s no light there. Are you sure you know where you’re going? We’re going to be back home late.” Her voice told the man that she was afraid, glancing at her he could see she looked worried.

“I know but that’s not where we’re heading. Besides, the night’s still young. I really want to show you this place. I’ve been wanting to for so long and only tonight is the night I can show it to you.”

“What’s so special about this place?” The woman wondered.

“All your questions will be answer in due time, baby.”

After a few more minutes of driving, they had reached the location. The woman looked up ahead to see a bridge towering over a lake. Once they reached to the middle part of the bridge, the man parks his convertible to the side.

The woman steps out looking at the scenery in awe despite the gloomy night. The only source of light came from the pale moon, shining brightly down on them.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The man’s voice came from behind her. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her in closer as her back meets with his chest. He tucks his chin on her shoulder and rested his back on the side of the car.

“It is.” She turns her head to the side, faced with the man’s side profile. She smiles at him, leaning her head forward to give a kiss to his cheek. The man smiles in satisfaction, happy that he was able to make her smile. “I didn’t know this place existed and it looks so wonderful in the night time.”

“Do you know why I brought you here?”

“No, and I would like to have my questions answered now, please.” She pleads.

“Fine. This bridge here is called The Bridge of Mizpah. Mizpah in Hebrew means ‘watchtower’. It also means a deep emotional bond between people, especially those separated by distance or death. This bridge was built in 1919 to link the road from the city to the old St. Helena Cemetery right across.

They named the bridge Mizpah because people couldn’t reach the other side of the lake when they were heading for the cemetery. Before, they had to use canoes and boats to cross over. It got tedious to go back and forth so they decided to build a bridge over, almost as if a connection between the living and the dead.

After the 1930 rock avalanches, the government closed down this road because it was too dangerous since the road is close to the mountains. Now, everyone just uses the new road they built near Rottenhill Park. It’s faster to reach the cemetery and far away from danger.

The lake however, is another story. It looks calm and peaceful, in contrast to its name. Everyone just knows it as Lake Lacrimae but never the reason why. The name Lacrimae comes from Latin for ‘tears’. Before that, it was called, ‘Et Lacrimis Dolorem’. It is a mouthful, I know. It means the ‘tears of sorrow’.

The lake represents the tears the living had shed for the dead. The locals even said that it was Carmel’s version of The River Styx, but instead of hate, its sorrow. A lot of people didn’t dare to swim in this lake, too afraid the souls would drag them down and drown them.

Even if this place just seems utterly depressing, it holds the greatest sight of all. The Mångata. It is a Swedish word to describe the glimmering roadlike reflection the moon creates on the water. Although it’s not that fascinating to others, still, the sight of it just brings warmth to my heart. Only on February 29 will you get to experience this magical yet haunting moment.”

The man ends it off with a sigh, closing his eyes to enjoy the quiet moment of his surroundings.

“I never pegged you for being so mellow and sappy, Michael. You continue to surprise me every day, baby.” She chuckles, only to have the man tickle her sides as she begs him to stop.

“May I remind you who it was that had a crush on this mellow and sappy boy and asked him out on a date?” He stares her down, smirking at her now that she was face to face with him.

The woman crossed her arms, “Fine, you win. But at least I caught a cute one at it too.” She remarks cheekily. The man grabs both of her cheeks, pinching them both before placing a kiss on her pouty lips.

“Thank you. Shall we go now? It’s getting chilly.” The woman nodded.

Once they arrived at the woman’s driveway, she pulls her lover in for a long sweet kiss. “Thanks for today. I really had a great time.” She smiles, giving him another kiss.

The man caresses her side of the face, taking in her features for the last night. “Me too. Wash up and go to bed early, alright?” She rolled her eyes and bid him farewell. “Yes, hubby.”

Once he had heard those words, a grin appeared on his face. “I’ll be seeing you in my dreams, baby.” When he sees her entering her house, she looks back to smile at him and blows him a kiss. He catches it, using the hand and placing it on top of his heart. He waves her goodbye before driving off back to his home.

March 2, 1956.

Local teen found dead in her home on 28 Avalon Street on Thursday morning.

16-year-old Y/N L/N was murdered after being found unconscious in her bed with blood on her prom dress that she wore the day before.

She had been stabbed at least 18 times before succumbing to her wounds. Reports say the time of the incident took place between 11:30pm and 12:00am on February 29, after she was dropped off by her boyfriend after they returned from their Prom.

Her parents had come home late after visiting the hospital where Mrs. L/N’s brother is currently being warded for treatment. Mrs. L/N had found it suspicious when the back door of the house was opened ajar and her daughter, failing to respond to her after calling her out multiple times.

When she went to check on her daughter, she saw her lying in a pool of blood in her bed.

Police had identified the two suspects, Ms. Larnie Woodson and Mr. James McKinley, both students at Carmel High School, where L/N attended as well. Students who went to Prom on the night of February 29 had heard of Woodson’s plans to kill L/N after she was not crowned as Prom Queen.

Both suspects were arrested after police found evidence of the murder weapon in the hidden compartment of the boot of McKinley’s Porsche.  

When asked for comments about the situation, Mr. and Mrs. L/N remained silent. Carmel High School student council had set up a remembrance altar at the school for L/N to honour and remember her as the sweet, loving and caring young woman.

The trial for Woodson and McKinley will be heard on Monday, March 5.

The woman’s lover had heard of the news. At first, he couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it. Until the day of her funeral. The love of his live, in her coffin looking so lifeless and dull. Her once rosy cheeks were now colourless, and her skin was pale as ice. Her pink lips were now grey and cracked.

Yet, she managed to look like she was before, beautiful. She looked peaceful with her eyes closed. Almost as if she was just sleeping. A long and deep sleep. One she wouldn’t wake up from. As the coffin began to lower down into the hole, he looked at it for one last time before leaving the cemetery and drowning his sorrow with alcohol his father had kept in the fridge.

A month had passed and yet the man hadn’t moved on nor stop thinking about her. She was always on his mind, day and night. No one could ever move on, especially from a love so warm and endearing like theirs.

He needed that love, but was only left with the bitter coldness of the heartbreak and the dreadful guilt eating him away. He stopped going to school the week after her funeral. He gave his parents the reason everyone was trying to help him with the grief but it was only making it worse that it got depressing.

He didn’t like to go outside because there were too many places that reminded him of her. Too many memories that would only break him down and tear him apart. That uncomfortable feeling. He didn’t like that. He grew to hate it so much. He grew to hate her too.

She was haunting him until he couldn’t tell whether he was awake or dreaming. With every turn and every corner, she was there. Like a ghost, one minute she’s there, and another minute she’s gone. It only heightened his senses, putting him on constant alert, too afraid to run into her again.

It drove him mad, and completely insane till one day, he started hearing her call his name in his dreams.

Her voice sounded lonely as she calls out to him. Asking him to come see her because she misses him a lot and the place she was now was cold and dark. She tells him how much she loves him and wishes to be back with him. He did too, he longed for the day he could touch her again and be right by her side.

He kept apologising to her, telling her how much of a failure he is as a boyfriend and she would remind him how much love and happiness he had given her and how he should never look down on himself. She asked him to come visit her and he agreed to the following night.

Taking a last look in the mirror, the man straightens out his white suit and adjusting his bow tie, grabbing the bouquet of lavenders by his bedside before heading out of the front door.

When he bumped into his mother when she got back from her shift from work, she asked him why he was wearing his suit and going out at this late of hour.

He simply replied her he was going to see Y/N and that seeing her at night felt more intimate to be with the dead. He bids her goodbye and walks towards his convertible. As he turns on the radio, the familiar haunting tune starts to play, triggering back memories to the night of the Prom.

He drove his car to the place he had promised to meet her, the place where he knows she’ll be there, St. Helena Cemetery. Once he enters the black iron gates confining the dead from the outside, the air starts to grow chilly as the white fog thickens down the road.

As he reaches the block of her grave, he could see the back of a woman, dressed in the same prom dress as his lover did. When his headlights shone towards her, the woman turns around in his direction.

When she saw who it was, a ghost of a smile appeared on her lips, delighted to see the love of her life as her heart leaped with joy. Seeing her smile made the man’s broken heart start to heal, just a little, at the sight of her waiting for him.

He turns off his engine, grabbing the flower bouquet and approaches the woman, still in awe to see her standing right in front of him.

“You came, I was beginning to think you stood me up.” She gazes into his eyes, and the man almost got lost looking at hers. He could even see is silhouette forming in them despite the dark surroundings.

He laughed, “You? Never.”

He gives her the bouquet he had been meaning to give her. She takes it from him, looking at it admiringly, caressing it with her fingers. She places the bouquet down in front of her tombstone.

The woman’s hands slowly crept up to rest on his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug, a needed hug that had been prolonged for far too long.

“I miss your hugs so much. Everything feels cold now. There’s no more warmth. You have no idea how much I needed this.” She tells him.

“Me too. I really miss you a lot, Y/N. I really need you right now. Everything feels right whenever you’re around.” He admitted. “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of you.”

They stayed in each other’s embrace for a while before the woman broke the hug. She leans away, and places her hands on the sides of the man’s elbows. “You know, I always wanted to know what it feels like to slow dance in a cemetery. Care to dance, Mr. Langdon?”

“There’s no music. It’ll just be awkward to sway to no music.”

“Nonsense. But, I could help with that.” With a flick of her fingers, the radio of the car turns on. The same tune he had heard earlier on, lingering in the quiet of the night.

“You seem to enjoy that song a lot. It’s beginning to grow on me now.”

“Right? I know I picked a good song. I have good taste in music.” She stated boldly. “Whatever you say, my love.”

He shifts her arms to wrap around his neck and does the same with his, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her in closer.

“I never thought I would be slow dancing in a cemetery with you.” He tells her.

“Me either. I thought you would have run away by now.” She chuckles.

She rests her head on the shoulder of the man, as he tucks her in the crook of his neck, placing his chin above her head.

Time seemed to have slowed down, and it felt as if they had been dancing for hours, circling and swaying to the song in an endless loop.

All of a sudden, faint bells chimed around them. The woman lets go of the man and looks down to the ground with a sad expression.

“I have to go now. My time’s up for the night. Thank you for seeing me, Michael. Goodbye.” She lets go of his hand, only for him to grip on it, as if she would fade away if he didn’t catch her in time.

“No, you can’t. You can’t leave me, not again. I can’t lose you anymore. I agreed to see you and now you’re leaving?! You can’t just leave me when you want to.” There was anger laced in his voice.

“It’s not like I have a choice. They allowed me to see you, but only for a short while. I can’t keep seeing you like this, not when we’re in different worlds now. I don’t belong in yours and you don’t belong in mine. There are boundaries that you should know, Michael.

We cannot be in each other’s life like we used to be. How long do you think this will last? It will only worsen your mentality and health, Michael. I can’t bear to see you like that. To hang on to me like this. It’s not right. I cannot be with you anymore.” The woman sounded heartbroken, of course she wanted to stay but she couldn’t. She knew if she continued on with this, the suffering will never end.

As much as it breaks her heart to say it to him, she knew it was the right thing to do. It would put him out of his grief and pain, letting him free from the burden that had been pulling him down. The man’s knees had given way, making him fall to the ground on his knees, the dirt rubbing against his white pants.

“Then, what can I do to make you take me back? I only want you here with me. I can’t function properly anymore. Everything doesn’t make sense. You know, its all your fault! If you didn’t keep popping up around me, calling my name, it would have been easier to move on from you. It’s your fault for making me like this. It’s your fault for being so selfish.” He snaps, anger flaring in his eyes as he looks at her as if she had betrayed him.

“Selfish?! You’re calling me selfish?! You’re the reason why I’m stuck like this! Why I can’t never seem to escape this place and cross over. It’s all because of you! You keep calling out my name when you sleep, constantly whimpering, begging me not to leave you, telling me to stay. I couldn’t cross over because of you. You are my unfinish business.

I only stayed because you didn’t let me go. You wouldn’t know how much I sacrificed for you. How I begged Him to let me comfort you. I let my presence be known to you so you know I didn’t leave you. This cannot go on forever, Michael. Sooner or later, you have to move on from me. So please, Michael. Let me go. Let me go, baby.” The woman kneels down so she was on the same level as the man.

“If I let you go, I’ll have no one. You are the person I see reflecting back at me in the mirror. You are the breeze that I feel whenever I need to forget about the world and let peace take over me. You are the pride that I hold on, knowing I had made you the happiest person in the world. You are the love that I needed the most and I’ll die without it.

You have no idea what it feels like knowing the love of your live had died before you, how difficult it was to go through all the emotions. Pain, grief, guilt, sorrow, remorse. So, imagine what it feels like to be in my shoes. I thought it would be bearable to seek the closure I need if I visit you. But it only proved me wrong.” He sobs, choking on his tears and letting them roll down his cheeks.

The man was engulfed in the woman’s embrace, her hands soothing his back as she kept apologising for leaving him too soon. She remembered the promise they had promised to each other. To grow old and die together, and it made her cry. Maybe it was no one’s fault. No one could have stopped the incident from happening nor did anyone saw it coming.

Maybe it was fate. Everyone has a limited time in the living before returning back to Him. Maybe it was Y/N’s time to go back to Him. Michael knows he couldn’t compete with him. No matter how much he begged her to stay, she can’t come back to him alive. He had to accept the fact. He had to let her go eventually.

He sighs before looking into her eyes, “Alright, I’ll do what you want me to, I’ll let you go. Asking you to stay would be selfish of me. But can you promise me this if I let you go? As much as it sounds selfish of me to ask of you?

The woman cups his face in her hands, “Of course, what is it baby?”

“Will you wait for me? So, we can be together again?” He pleaded to her, his voice almost sounding hopeful she would agree to him.

“I’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes. I’ll be there to welcome you back in my arms. I promise, Michael.” The man felt his heart swell with ease and comfort. “Thank you, Y/N. We’ll meet again in the same world, one day.”

He watches her silhouette fade away into the darkness before walking back towards his car. With one last look at her tombstone, a sad smile appeared on his face before driving off to the living.

March 26, 1956.

The body of a 16-year-old was found in Lake Lacrimae in Carmel Sunday morning.

Michael Langdon was last seen by his mother on Friday night when he went to visit his girlfriend’s grave, Y/N L/N at St. Helena Cemetery that was murdered last February.

Langdon’s mother filed for a missing person report when he did not come home the next morning. The police had sent a search and rescue team to look for Langdon near the area of St. Helena and Blackteeth Forest.

After two hours of searching, police found that the railing of The Bridge of Mizpah, at the old road near St. Helena, had been destroyed.

It took them several hours to pull the car out of the river.

They recovered the car Langdon was driving, a 56’ Bel Air Chevy on the bottom of the lake, with Langdon still trapped in between the crushed car.

Officers believed he had committed suicide by driving his car off the bridge. Reports have said that Langdon was suffering from post-traumatic stress and depression after the loss of his girlfriend.

When midnight strikes on February 29, do not be afraid if you hear the sound of engine running through your street in the middle of the night.

Do not be frighten if you hear the haunting melody of The Five Saint’s Still of The Night playing throughout your neighbourhood.

If you are brave enough to look out the window, you could see a young couple in a 56’ Bel Air Chevy cruising down the road and if you look closer, you would recognise them to be Y/N L/N and Michael Langdon, smiling to each other with Michael’s arms around Y/N.

When you visit St. Helena Cemetery at night, do not run away if you see a pair of lovers slow dancing under the pale moonlight.

When you visit their graves, make sure you leave them lavenders, and lavenders only. It is the symbol of their love and wishes for you to respect that if you visit them.

If you wish to seek everlasting love with your beloved, leave an offering of a lavender flower and a corsage on their tombstones. Ask them for their blessings and they will grand you your wish, provided that you do not disturb their moment of intimacy.

So, you see why young lovers venture to Carmel. The tale of the Lavender Lovers will only remain a mystery if you don’t experience it yourselves. A love that was once filled with despair and tragedy now a love as old as time.

Taglist: @hxdesworld, @champagnejoker, @buckynatlarry , @morningstarkit, @bitchierrichie, @meeeeeeeeeps,  @abblez-the-babblez, @snookabooforever, @frozenhuntress67

[amora-recs]

god save our queen┊bae joohyun┊pt. 2

des: deep inside the Black Forest lies a secret. I fell for this secret. I died for this secret. (warning: lots of teenage angst)

word count: 4.0k

parts: i. iii.

    An uneasy feeling took over all of my body in a matter of seconds, the trembling of my lips all too obvious to the girl in front of me. My fists clenched the mud underneath me, supporting myself on my knees. Ever since I knew how to walk, I've been told about how scary people can be, so I knew not to talk with any stranger that comes my way. So I didn't talk to her. I just looked at her for a very long and awkward amount of time. God, she was glowing with glee! Though her last words lingered in the very corner of my mind, creeping me out little by little. I was contradicting myself over and over again until my back felt cold... And wet. I turned around only to find myself face to face with a green rock. I couldn't help but mock myself as I became aware of just how scared I actually was. I winced as I saw the sadness clouding her features. Did I offend her? Now I was more terrified than ever. "I didn't mean to scare you, y'know..." she mumbled as her warm brown eyes fixated on me. Her pupils were huge, full of stardust probably. "It was only a joke –"

"A bad one." I was quick to reply, the corners of those same starry eyes all crinkled in a grin. Even I, a still hyperactive enough kid, felt uncomfortable with the pace her mood tended to change. 

"So you can talk,"

"Of course I can," I whispered all of a sudden. "But I don't think I'm supposed to talk with you." I continued as if papa could hear me from miles away. For a moment, she looked puzzled, grasping and processing everything I just said. "How old are you?"

"How old are you?"

"Definitely older than you," 

   I couldn't help but scoff at her reply. "It sure doesn't seem like it." was soon followed.

   As her sugary chuckle echoed around the rocks, gravel fell on my thigh, just a few inches away from my face. Her laughing stopped and her face went blank. Maybe the new paleness gave her such a stare. A muscle on her jaw twitched as she got up, holding a hand out, supposedly for me to hold onto. Although a little hesitant, I grabbed it, walking away from the rocks while dusting myself off. I had enough dirt and grass on already. Even though her mood swings were indeed odd, the sudden new look worried my little heart all too much. I wanted to ask her what's wrong, I really did, but the tight, sweaty and overall stressful hold of her hand made me chew on my lower lip instead, watching silently as her breathing became hectic. In a few minutes, after several deep breaths, whatever bothered her soon was a distant memory as her cheeks flushed, letting go of my hand. It felt a little too cold all of a sudden. "Sorry about that..." she cleared her throat. "I think it's time for you to go home." it was my turn to blush.

"Where is home exactly...?" it seemed like I waited for an eternity to hear her laugh again. "I'll show you the way – If you can trust me that is."

"Tell me your name first."

"Irene." a pretty name for a pretty girl.

 I had no choice but to follow Irene around the forest. After all, I didn't plan my grand adventure all too well. Nonetheless, I didn't regret it. I don't know if it was because of her, or because the sun was setting, but everything seemed so much... More. I don't know if it was because of the bits of star carried in her veins, or because of the lunar mist surrounding us, but everything seemed so much more magical. For many nights I looked outside the round window of my room wondering what was out there. Now that I finally saw it, I loved it. I laughed, danced, got lost a few times, but I still loved it. I hope Irene loved it too. The first summer I spend with her was really precious. For one night, I forgot the tragedy also known as my life. I forgot about my dad, my mother, everything, "Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?" for a moment, I died. Was she talking to me – no she already did. Was she complimenting me? As if she could read my mind, Irene laughed, pointing earthwards, at the bunny in front of her. Even though she didn't compliment me, I cherished those moments, deep in my heart, wondering if I could stay by her side in the soon to come winter.

"I think this is it," Irene spoke, touching my shoulder gently, pausing my daydreaming just like that. I took one, two steps in front of her, confirming myself that this is it. I was home. I hated it. I hated coming back from my dreamland. I hated coming back to see Patricia's face, keeping my dad preoccupied, and all to herself. I sighed, studying the not so little cabin with distaste. Looks like today is finally over.

"Hey, Irene –" there was no Irene. When did she leave? How come I didn't hear her? I was too tired to think. Drowsiness invaded my mind and body, making me drag myself inside, ready for a well-deserved bath.

 Lethargic. That's a new word. I wasn't sure why or what caused it, but I became lethargic. Maybe the daily forest walks caused it. Maybe my never-ending fantasizing caused it, waiting again for a next time. The next time I'd meet Irene. The next time I'd look around and smile. The next time I'd awe and flush. The next time I'd encounter magic and sparkles! Those God damned sparkles. I missed them. I missed them so much. I waited all over again for that next time... But just like before, it never came. I became tired of waiting. I hated waiting.

 In the end, I waited so much I had to leave. But I didn't want to leave! I wanted to stay. Although I hated it, I wanted to wait. I didn't want to leave and forget all those things. I made sure not to. As autumn came by, I never forgot. As winter came by, I never forgot. Even in spring, I still remembered that day. I remembered it so well I came back every summer, searching for that moment, searching for Irene. I searched for her four summers. And with the end of every summer, came a new feeling. Sadness. Disappointment. Anxiety. Depression. It all hit me like a ton of bricks.

   I was sixteen when saw her again, back in the Black Forest, right beside the small waterfall at the end of the glade. It was around mid July. It was pretty hot outside. Yet she was as beautiful as I remembered her to be. A real-life fairy tale princess. I took everything in: the visuals, the sounds, the smells. Nothing changed. It was as if the forest itself waited for Irene. I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. After all, I did the same thing. Just like last time, I unintentionally stepped on a twig, drawing her attention with ease. I held my breath. Will she recognise me? I’ve grown a little bit since I was twelve after all. While fidgeting timidly with my fingers, I felt the need to look down. She was watching me so attentively I almost fainted. Almost, “Oh, it’s you!” she finally said, placing beside her what looked like a flower crown. This time, she wasn’t wearing a cloak, her white dress in full display as she tried her best to not trip over herself. Her hair was also different. Now it was neatly braided on the side, showing more of her rosy cheeks and radiant smile. My face already hurt from all the grinning, but it was worth it as long as she smiled along.

“Hi there,” I managed to mumble out, waving weakly. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” I sounded so lousy in front of her, only one thought went through my mind. ‘Heck, heck, heck, heck, heck’. I blinked and she was in front of me, far enough to not feel uncomfortable, but close enough to sense the daisy perfume lingering in between us. 

“It sure has been – ugh…”

“Heck.”

   My hand went over my mouth, feeling my ears burning hotter as soon as I heard Irene’s laugh. 'Is it going to become a tradition to embarrass myself in front of her?' Not that I minded. "That's quite the unique name you have," she winked, making my heart beat just a tad faster. Everything from the atmosphere to the lack of sounds felt nice. It felt pretty. I missed pretty. 

"I know, right? Most people prefer to call me ___, unfortunately."

"Heck suits you so much better though..." Irene insisted with her arms crossed, a pout taking over her features. Even her pout was lovely. Never in my life, I have ever seen someone so beautiful. I felt so overwhelmed, yet so happy. It was an odd sensation I couldn’t get tired of. For just a few moments, things were silent. That I didn’t like. I felt pressured by her presence. Like I needed to say something all the time. “Flower crowns, huh?” I asked, trying to change the subject. “Is that why you hang out around here?”

  Her face dropped. It was obvious I touched a nerve, “…Yeah, sure.” she replied as she walked away from me, back to the flower crown, proceeding to sit down. All I did was follow. “What about you? What are you doing here?”

“Recreation! I really like,” I looked down. “Daisies!”

“Judging from our previous encounter, I can clearly tell that.” oh God, that last time. Her smirk didn’t help my situation as I felt my ears burning. After a nervous laugh and clearing my throat, everything was silent again. She wasn’t much of a talker, huh? I wouldn’t call her boring – I knew the personality was there – maybe I was the one boring. Wouldn’t surprise me, I would be annoyed too if a kid suddenly decided to get all friendly with me. Unfortunately for her, I wasn’t going to give up. “Where are you from?” her shoulders seemed oddly relaxed. Was she not bothered by that question. 

“South Korea,” she responded oddly fast.

“That’s cool! So, are you here on a holiday or –”

“More like a school trip. With less school and more friends.” soon our conversation became an interrogation. I would ask the questions, she would answer. I couldn’t tell whether or not she was lying, her empty expression failed to give anything away. I soon found out she was nineteen years old, herbalism major and that she had two cats: Buttercup and Poppy. It was around late afternoon when I lost count of the questions. I knew so many things about her, some random some more important, yet all she did was play with those flowers. I wasn’t too sure she was enjoying herself. And it broke my heart. No one could keep their cool for that long. Irene was no exception as her eyes narrowed and knuckles whitened at her firm grasp of the delicate flowers. 

“Ok, one last question,” I sighed, twirling a daisy in between my fingers. I felt bad for those little guys. “You said you’re on a trip with some friends, right?”

“Yes.” she exhaled, her nostrils flaring.

“Why would they leave you here, then?” I studied her as her brows knitted. “They don’t sound all that nice if I’m being honest. Isn’t it lonely staying around here –” I stopped myself. Way to go me! Insulting your crush's friends right in front of her! Too preoccupied with my mental breakdown, I failed to notice Irene talking.

“… Dead.” that’s the only word I was able to hear through her whispering, though I didn’t fail to notice the crack in her sudden petite voice. She seemed to pick that up, so with glossy eyes and scarlet cheeks, she repeated herself. “I am dead. They left me here because I am dead.”   

   I laughed. That was it. All I did was laugh. I knew – I was one hundred percent sure – there was no way she was serious. As soon as I looked at her, I couldn’t help but bite my tongue. She was crying. Her pretty brown eyes were flooded with tears, and she was uncontrollably sniffling. My chest hurt all of a sudden. “H-hey… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” I was devastated. I wanted to slap myself. I felt like I had to. Why was she crying? Did I say something wrong? Did I insult her? I panicked. Without thinking, I put my arms around her shoulders, hugging her tightly. I could feel warm tears staining my clothes, but I didn’t care. In return, I stained her shoulder as well. We stayed like that for an eternity. Just hugging each other, crying. I didn’t even feel her hugging me anymore, it became part of me. “Please forgive me,” I mouthed in a hoarse voice. “Whatever I said that upset you, please forgive me…” with red eyes, I looked up. The sun was setting, orange puffy clouds taking over the sky. Irene wasn’t saying anything. It worried me beyond relief. Only after a few more sobs, she ended our hug. 

“It’s not your fault.” she laughed at herself, wiping a few tears away from her face gently. “I don’t know what got into me all of a sudden. I should be the one apologizing.” I must have done something oddly horrible in my previous life to deserve seeing this. 

“Don’t say that. I shouldn’t have laughed at you.” a sudden thought crossed my mind. Was she serious about the whole dead thing? Was she a –

“I would have laughed too if someone came up and told me they’re a ghost.”

“If you really are a ghost,” I stood up, still sceptical. Irene didn’t sound like such a nice person all of a sudden. “How come I can touch you? And do I need some sort of board game to talk with you now?”

“Look, horror movies and whatever ghost documentaries are out there on the internet aren’t exactly right,” she groaned, standing up as well. I just saw how dirty her dress became. “Just because I’m dead that doesn’t mean I don’t have a body… I think.”

“You think?”

“I died four years ago! Not even ghosts understand how these things work! All I know is waking up here, in this dress…” I didn’t know whether or not I should take her seriously. I thought this was all a joke. I thought my feelings for her were a joke. 

“How did you die?” shortly after my question, Irene disappeared. As in she wasn’t there anymore. 

   What was there, though, was a sudden cold chill. It went all the way down my spine. I felt sickening. I felt scared. My heart was thumping and my gut was telling me to run. So that’s what I did. I ran and I couldn’t stop. Everything around me was a green blur as I ran so much my feet hurt. It didn’t matter which direction I went, I just ran. If it weren’t for the rock I tripped over, I would have much longer. I could feel my muscles pulsating, exhausted and soon to be sore. Once again, I was laying on the ground. I didn’t want to get up, I was too tired. I was so tired I could have fallen asleep right there. A sudden neigh was what made me rose up panting. I looked up only to see a… Horse? It was more like a draft. He, apparently, wasn’t very big, one or two inches shorter than me, with a chestnut coat and flaxen mane. Nonetheless, his stare made me feel uncomfortable. What was he doing here? I didn’t have enough time to continue my never-ending monologue as he soon reared, standing up on his hind legs. I felt my left shoulder pop as I tried to avoid getting squashed. The sound his hooves made as they hit the ground made my stomach turn. That could have been me. The sensation I felt earlier in the glade returned. They say most animals are more scared of you than you are of them. But this one – He sure wasn’t scared of me or anything surrounding the meadow as he went for it one more time. I was petrified, eyes closed, curled up in a ball, waiting for him to crush me. All of a sudden, the neighing stopped. I stood up in a sitting position, opening one of my eyes. He was still there, that’s for sure, but to his left, petting his tame softly was Irene, studying and observing me with a hollow stare. I could finally breathe.

“Thank you,” I said absentmindedly, feeling my eyes tearing up for the second time that day. A frown took over my features as I looked at Irene, searching for any sort of reaction. She smiled as I cried.

   I couldn’t stand it. This house was so dull. I was unable to stop my mind from lingering, thinking, even speculating, about my meeting with Irene and her little secret. I was unable to stop my heart from throbbing. I almost died. I was saved by a ghost of all people. What a sappy story I would never tell anyone. Who would have thought those damned YouTubers were right? Were there any other ghosts around? If so, where were they? Why was I able to see Irene only? There were so many questions that needed answers. It all felt too unbelievable, too unreal. Could this possibly happen to someone so miserable like me? What kind of messed up story is this? As I held tighter onto the flower crown Irene made me, I looked outside. I was back at square one. I was back at looking through the window, musing. I was still musing on my way downstairs, ignoring the side eye Patricia gave me. It became part of my daily routine. Before I knew, I was already seated, laughing along whatever bad joke my dad made. For once, it felt good to be so mundane. Unfortunately, my moment of bliss wasn’t long-lived, as I sensed a retort was about to come from the other side of the table. “So where have you been all day?” Patricia asked, twirling around her glass. I didn’t like her tone. Most of the time, she wasn’t too concerned about my being. I would be surprised if she even knew my name. So why was she so interested in me all of a sudden?

“Where else could I have possibly been? I was outside.” I squinted at her. “I went for a walk, exploring.”

“Really now?” her smile wasn’t a good sign. She brushed few of her blonde bangs away from her eyes. “Looks like your exploring went pretty well,” she looked at the bruise on my exposed shoulder while taking a sip of wine, making me immediately pull the collar of my loose t-shirt up. How could I possibly forget about that?! I wasn’t going to let Patricia of all people have the last word. 

“If you’re insinuating what I think you are – Shocking. I am truly stunned by the display of idiocy. If you know what that word even means.” and that was the beginning of what one would call an utter disaster.

   So, there I was, passive-aggressively washing the dishes, muttering every curse word I could think off. Poor dishes, they didn’t deserve that kind of abuse. “She loves you, y’know?” my father’s sudden entrance scared me, making me drop a glass in the sink. I didn’t say anything, I just waited for him to continue defending her. Just like he always did. “In her own peculiar way, she loves you.” I turned around, an exasperated sigh leaving my lips.

“It’s been four years, dad,” I grumbled, sitting down beside him at the dinner table, holding his arm gently. “Four years and all she has done was yell and make assumptions about me.” I could feel my voice cracking. I had enough of her insanity and obnoxious personality. The way she teased – even tried to make fun of me in front of him was the last drop. It may have come out of nowhere, but after what I went through that day. “I am tired…” I was able to tell my dad was mad. The way a vein popped out in his neck, the way he clenched his fists. It was too obvious. It was obvious he loved her more than me.

“Sweetie –”

“Don’t ‘sweetie’ me, dad. That’s all you’ve been doing these past years!” I stood up, feeling my cheeks get wet. I wasn’t going to cry in front of him. “I know you love her, I really do, but just because you love her that doesn’t mean I do too.”

   I didn’t stand around too much after that. I grabbed a hoodie and went outside. Just because I was depressed that didn’t necessarily mean I also wanted hypothermia. It was pretty chilly outside after all. Soon after, I was sitting on the bench of our little wooden gazebo, just outside the forest, crying my eyes out for what seemed like hours for the third time that day. I knew, as soon as I touched my under eyes, I looked like a mess. Ignoring the fact that I almost died, I just had to go out of my way and ruin the whole day. I felt disgustingly miserable. The whole point of this trip was to stop feeling this way, yet there I was, bawling my eyes out.

“God, you are such a cry baby.” a flush crept up my face as I became aware of Irene’s presence. “You’re way too loud. Just for how long exactly do you plan on crying?” she whined, blowing away the few strands that landed on her face. 

   I winced. “Sorry my suffering is bothering you so much…” I whispered as I continued to sniffle. Irene was the last person I wanted to get mad. Who knew what kind of other freaky powers she had?

“You are either way too naive either trolling me,” I could already see her adorable smile, even without lifting my head. “And guessing from the way your face lit up, I can assume it’s the latter.” she continued, pinching one of my cheeks. My smile soon faded as I grabbed her hand and placed it in her lap as soon as she sat beside me. I took my time while observing her. Her white dress was still dirty with grass, mud and flower petals. Instead of ruining the dress, it added to it. It was as if the dress was made for that exact reason, while her hair wasn’t any better as it was a complete mess. A beautiful mess. Irene’s blush took both of us by surprise.  Her coffee-coloured eyes seemed to shine brighter than ever as the fairy lights surrounding us turned on, illuminating the dewy honeysuckles and jasmine attached to them. Everything about that moment was too ethereal in my mind. From the sparkly little stars shining up in the sky to that damned gazebo, it all felt perfect. It was so serene, so beautiful. It was the moment I waited so long for. In which I could forget about all of my worries. In which I felt happy.

“Do you ever just…” I sighed as a hand went through my hair. “Do you ever just cry because life sucks and everything is falling apart, but you know things are going to be fine eventually, but right now it’s horrible and you don’t want to –”

“Slow down.” her voice was soft. When I said soft, I meant soft. It rang in my ears so flawlessly I stopped talking immediately just so I could enjoy it more. It was so silent I could hear my heartbeat. It was slow and calm. Just like our moment. “What happened?” she asked and I answered. I told her everything. From my parents’ divorce to my recent fight with Patricia. All she did was listen.

[mortaljin]

BTS Fanfiction Recommendations!

These are some of my very, very favorite fics (like the ones I go and message the authors about). I follow hundreds of blogs so it’s hard to keep up with which fics I’ve read (I stopped tagging them at some point?) so there are probably dozens more. All I will say is that if a writer is tagged here, the rest of their writing is well worth looking at too.

Thank you, Writers, for everything you do. 

SERIES

Seokjin

Stigma; @eris0330 [COMPLETED]

(Seokjin x reader, text au)

As part of Jin’s lifestyle, he is meant to be walking in his father’s footsteps. Even before being born, the LV CEO had big plans. Jin will do everything to please his father’s wishes of finding a partner, and take over the company. But it’s not for the company’s sake, it’s for the secrets that lies within the family business. 

Eros; @kpopfanfictrash

(Seokjin x Reader)

In the futuristic world of Europa, Queen Venetia rules her land an iron fist. None are more feared than the Akeran, an alien race Earth fought eons ago, who bear a remarkable similarity to the angels of lore. When you find yourself at odds with the Queen, it seems there’s no safe place on Earth for you to hide. Nowhere but with your mysterious rescuer, and even he may be more trouble than he’s worth.

Yoongi

A Wish Out of Water; @jimlingss [COMPLETED]

(Yoongi x Reader)

A genie could solve all your problems. Though you wouldn’t even know exactly what to ask for - money, a warmer house, a better job, a better life? But Min Yoongi is no ordinary genie. He’s here to make your life a living hell. Too bad it was hell to begin with.

Suga Daddy; @drquinzelharleen

(Yoongi x Reader)

Yoongi gives you an offer you can’t refuse.

Inheritance; @rbuns [COMPLETED]

(Yoongi x Reader)

After your grandmother passed she left everything to you. Her house, her fortune, and apparently… her cat? The grumpy male hybrid you encounter at her house is anything but the tame housecat you’d expected to find. Fulfilling your grandmother’s last request to look after him becomes a lot harder when he seems to be avoiding you, and your dissatisfied relatives start stirring up trouble.

Di Piano e Forte; @justoneday-namjoonii

(Yoongi x Reader)

Piano; A keyboard of cypress, played with soft and loud. Was it the ivory and onyx keys that let you escape from your reality…Or was it the man with sable hair and ivory skin.

Hoseok

Heartbeat; @joonbird

(Hoseok x reader)

You’ve always stayed far away from the Kingsnakes, the coldblooded gang that runs the dark heart of your city. That is until your life collides with the intriguing and dangerous Jung Hoseok.

Transference; @jeonjagiya [COMPLETED]

(Hoseok x Reader)

During a routine visit to the local bakery, you stumble upon an intriguing business card and figure, what the hell.

Written On Our Veins; @army-author

(Hoseok x Reader)

You and Hoseok are sick of spending the holidays soulmate-less while your friends enjoy Christmas as couples… tired of waiting for fate to make a move, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Namjoon

Amor Fati; @sugaroons

(Namjoon x Reader)

you’re still settling into your life back at university when you meet kim namjoon. he’s so perfect—sweet, awkward, and exactly your type, especially in bed—that you know there has to be a catch.

Jimin

I’ll Never Be Her; @anon-luv

(Jimin x Reader)

You loved him with all your heart, but he could only give you half of his.

Little Bear; @b-angst-tan

(Jimin x Reader)

You’ve always wanted a hybrid. Not truly being able to afford one makes it seem impossible that you’d have one anytime soon. Until the opportunity presents itself as if by miracle. 

Taehyung

Crimson; @idolxreader

(Taehyung x Reader)

Kim Taehyung disrupts your day-to-day life to make a deal with you.

Sugar daddy au.

Jungkook

Wanted; @rbuns [COMPLETED]

(Jungkook x Reader)

You were a deserter, a renegade, a wanted “criminal”. It was never in your plans to crash land on that planet, and it most certainly wasn’t in your plans to fall in love with it’s handsome ruler.  

Blackjack; @kpopfanfictrash

(Jungkook x Reader)

Bangtan is one of the most vicious mafias on the west coast. Only six members are known by name though, with a mysterious seventh member dubbed only as ‘the shadow.’ When you become indebted to the worst of the worst – how, exactly can you find a way out?

OT7

Tales of Greyria; @cutaepatootie [COMPLETED]

(Jungkook/Taehyung/Jimin/Hoseok/Yoongi x reader pairings)

Five stories that took place during the great times of a kingdom named Greyria, telling us about its glory and its downfall.  How it all started with a red rose, and ended with a burning fire. 

I just finished this and guys. Just go read it.

The Lonely Hearts Club; @cinnaminsvga [COMPLETED]

(?? x Reader)

social media au where y/n and yoongi are mutuals but they’re constantly at each other’s throats for reasons unknown (aka emotional constipation)

Call Me Mistress; @jeonjagiya

(ot7 x OC, not a poly au.)

A collection of stories recounting the titillating work of the dome known only as the Mistress.

Note: This was originally written as a reader insert and recently changed to an OC. It is still so worth reading, and I can guarantee you guys will have seen the Mistress as an OC anyways!

Working Man Bangtan; @jeonjagiya (I love all her stuff too)

(OT7 x Reader, not a poly au.)

A collection of stories where the leading man has a working class occupation.

Golden Goddess; @angel-ofcolordeactivated20180104

(?? x Reader)

You were stolen, swept away in the depths of the night by Park Jimin, the cruel king of the fairies. He’s always seen you as a prize– as something to play with rather than a person, and now he’s finally got his hands on you. He’s captured you, taken you off to a different world and stripped away any inch of your former self. Will you ever manage to escape his grip?

Tales From The Land of Fae; @fireheart-namjoon

(OT7 x Reader, not a poly au.)

A compilation of tales from the four courts of fae: Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring.

Note: This is the masterlist of all the related aus. The Winter Court is the main series of this story line.

Sweeter than sweet; @gimmesumsuga

(Jimin x Reader primarily, smut involving multiple other members)

You would have never expected someone like Park Jimin to notice you;  he's handsome, seductive, and totally out of your league.  Oh, and a vampire.  You're enthralled by him from the moment you meet, addicted to his kiss and his bite, willing to do anything to be by his side - even if it costs you your freedom... and your life. 

The 7 Society; multiple authors

(OT7 x Reader, not a poly au.)

Inside the grounds of the University, rumor has it there exists a secret society. One which thrives underground, comprised of seven individuals; each of whom is only to be revealed upon the hour of their death. The Society is enigmatic, seductive and wealthy beyond belief. There is only one rule, which must by strictly adhered to.

Don’t tell.

Soul Meiteu; @bang-tan-bitch

(OT7 x Reader, literally just fluff?? <3)

Your night at a concert turns into a dream come true experience. All you have to do, is take his hand.

Trust Nobody; @softjeon

(Taehyung x Reader, OT7 x Reader)

The first thing someone should know about you is that you’re an escort. Yes, you have fucked for money. One day your boss made you an offer you couldn’t say no to. One year - seven boys. One rule: never fall in love.

Endgame; @oppamansae

(?? x Reader)

In chess, winning is everything – unfortunately, it is never easy. Y/N knew that as soon as she was ordered to assassinate the ruler of Seoul’s wealthiest mob empire, Park Jimin. The real question was: would she be able to survive this twisted game, all while keeping her identity a secret?

Bound; multiple authors [COMPLETED]

(OT7 x Reader, not a poly au.)

In a world where marriage isn’t by choice and love isn’t an option – will you ever find happiness? Or just continue to search? 

Too Sweet; @justoneday-namjoonii

(OT7 x Reader, not a poly au (?),)

-Vampire!au BTS

ONE SHOTS

Seokjin

Long Live The King; @remembeo

(Seokjin x Reader)

Long live the King, and may he reign forever more. 

Currents; @bread-jinie

(Seokjin x Reader)

Jin thinks he’s loved you since the moment he saw you, back when you were teenagers; Jin knows he’s been in love with you, the soul burning kind of love, since he saw you on your wedding day. He doesn’t mind that you don’t reciprocate on his level, he’s just happy to show you he cares. Until one day, he simply can’t anymore. Until one day, you realize you need to show him you care, too. 

Golden Boy; @kpopfanfictrash

(Seokjin x Reader)

The golden boy of the porn industry, prettier than half his female co-stars. Will sue if you pull his hair. Always bothering his neighbors with pizza delivery.

Note: This is multi-author series. Masterlist here.

Yoongi

Lost Stars; @taegih

(Yoongi x Reader)

-Enemies to lovers au

Smoke; @army-author

(Yoongi x Reader)

You have full moon eyes, and Yoongi wants to cheat the system.

Petrichor; @donewithjeon

(Yoongi x Reader)

You weren’t exactly sure when Min Yoongi had come into town.

Blackthorn Manor; @kpopfanfictrash

(Yoongi x Reader)

After becoming the assistant of professional recluse Min Yoongi, you begin to notice strange things. Noises which shouldn’t take place, shadows which shouldn’t move like they do. You’re almost convinced that you’re crazy - until something happens, something unbelievable to make you realize you’re not.

Hoseok

The First Eclipse; @rbuns

(Hoseok x Reader)

Hoseok reminisces on your earlier times together.

Namjoon

I’m so sorry omg I rarely read any Namjoon stuff omg.

Jimin

20 Things (and counting) I Hades About You; @readyplayerhobi

(Jimin x Reader)

Park Jimin, also known as DJ Plouton, one of the hottest DJ’s on the planet. Arrogant, sarcastic and incredibly attractive; you’d appreciate him more if you weren’t convinced he’d be the death of you on a daily basis. But apparently that wouldn’t matter either, because what’s a bit of death to the God of the Underworld?

Note: I think this author is doing a greek god au oneshot for each boy!

Taehyung

Fireflies; @sugaxjpg

(Taehyung x Reader)

“There’s no hope for people like us, sweetheart. We’re destined to fall in love a thousand times, and have our hearts broken in each one of them. We might as well be miserable together.”

Danse Macabre; @sugaxjpg

(Taehyung x Reader)

-Vampire au

Shelter; @btssmutgalore

(Taehyung x Reader)

Taehyung’s always been a best friend, which is why you think he’s the right person to ask for help when it comes to relationships.

Sacrilege; @writingseoul

(Taehyung x Reader)

You're a sacrifice to Taehyung, the Sun God

Jungkook

Back Home To You; @kthartics

(Jungkook x Reader)

Four years after graduating from med school, and ten after a mutual break up with your high school sweetheart, he comes knocking on your window battered and bruised only for you to find out he’s quit the military and in exchange for the title of Korea’s top mercenary but to you, he’s just a boyfriend you got together with again.

Lust and Love; @bbfairy

(Jungkook x Reader)

Your family forces you to marry a man named Park Jimin in order to gain a profit from their affluence. While preparing for the Park’s arrival, your father hires a butler in the estate. Gradually, you fall for him. You become infatuated with his presence, unwilling to accept the marriage and Park Jimin.

Plans for Wedding Bands; @guksheart

(Jungkook x Reader)

I’ve been meaning to propose to you for ages and i have set up the perfect plan but as we’re driving to the restaurant this tiny little cat on the side of the road that you’re determind to save shows up and now everything is ruined oh god what am i gonna do❜

The Wedding Planners; @gukyi

(Jungkook x Reader + some side yoonseok)

jeon jungkook is three things: cocky, terrible, and your worst enemy. then your best friend hoseok gets engaged to the love of his life, and suddenly jeon jungkook is four things: cocky, terrible, your worst enemy, and the man you will be spending the next seven months with in order to plan your best friend’s wedding. and then, as if your life couldn’t get any shittier, you make the poor decision of sleeping with him on the first day of the job.

A/N: I really hope I linked these properly lol. Let me know if there are any problems!

[vladxmaddie]

Takes place before Phantom Planet ///Jack Fenton comes up dead. Maddie and Danny Fenton zero in on a suspect and plan on the confrontation of a lifetime! However Maddie finds herself confronting more than just Vlad... She’ll have to confront her past... and fate. There had been a lot of unresolved feelings between Maddie and Vlad leading up to this. \\\ Romance/Suspense (VladxMaddie pairing) My husband wrote this and it is sooooo good!! If you are a shipper you’ll love it. It is very deep and intelligent and the characters are well written.  -------------------------------------- Wars have been started over lesser heroines. Helen of Troy was a mere fairy tale by long dead warriors. Juliet was a mere silhouette in romance poetry when compared to the light of my long lost Lenore.  Joan of Arc became a Pop Tart for a shred of my conviction. For me, there is only one name on the Marque -- Maddie.

Please allow me to introduce myself; I am Vlad Masters, also known as an ectoplasmic superhuman, the Plasmius. With an army of both wealth and manifested supernatural underlings, I command an empire... but such a lonely kingdom it is without her. An accident has forever bound the fate of Maddie, and I -- and ... him, and made me what I am today. He is the one I have loathed for longer than a human mind can conceive of time; he is the sole reason why I command a legion of lowly ghosts, hopelessly scrambling to win back Maddie's affections. Jack... Our lives our forever linked by tragedy.

We knew only one of us would come out truly alive... and truly loved. Jack Fenton is dead. You must understand that this is a day I never really imagined would happen.

You must understand what this means... Maddie...

Though you may think of me as the villain of our previous affairs, know that I have my reasons for my crimes. Oh, sure, I've had my fair share of dasdardly doings, malicious schemes, and underhanded dealings towards Jack and his family, but what I've dealt and done, I did for love. Even my minions know this. They often times tire of every tear that shrivels up in my ecto-eyes whenever a cheesy 80's love song blares throughout the castle walls. They tell me that I call her name out in my sleep... and that my snoring sounds like buzz saws cutting through jagged metal. They call it, "Maddie's Song" or, "The Cheese King's Lament" (-- I prefer the former).

They say I also say, "Kill Jack" at least three times a night (four on weekends).

Life has not been easy for this half-ghost super-villain, let me tell you. I have years of occult training under my belt, and a skillset to match that belt with shiny sequins... but nothing can shine like the glow of Maddie's eyes... though often times my glances at her were while she glanzed, doe-eyed and stupidly at Jack.  However... in my newfound understanding, I almost sympathize with my rival, and know that our intentions were more similar in heart than in their eventual actions. We were  two primal beasts beating our chests for the affections of a girl.... but not just any girl. Maddie... the girl he stole from me!

Forgive me, however -- I am getting far ahead of myself; she will be at this castle again in one hour.

My eyes dance in otherworldly flames that twist around the hands of the clock. My devious smirk twists from space and time in the mirror's reflection. Tonight, all the doors are open for my love and I. Tonight, a brave new world has opened itself up to us with loving arms.

Tonight there is a song playing on the radio so oddly reminicent of our plight...

"Take these broken wings and learn to fly again."

Maddie... let me teach you to fly. Let me show you a better world -- a world without Jack Fenton -- a world without Ecno-acne or the obnoxious fundraisers on the TV to cure it (we only raised $200 -- mainly because no one knew what the hell we were talking about--) a world where you and I are finally King and Queen...

Tonight, my minions are restless... Maddie's Song is going viral. Fifty-eight minutes, now... and I'm getting nervous. Tick tock, Maddie...

Words cannot describe the oceans of time that crash from our last true moment together as rightful heirs to this ghost kingdom. The blast of blinding light that overtook my vision as I thought I was surely dead -- the screaming crash that resolved the brooding tension of hearts -- it feels like forever ago, and yet every heart beat now. Jack Fenton had robbed me of my humanity on this day -- an infamous day -- but what no one really understands is that it was one of many days -- lonely days... without Maddie. Had I died that day at the lab, Maddie would have been the last thought on my mind, as she has often been the first, since then. Every wretched morning, I awake in a grave of a bed, and see my ghosts, bedside by her altar. Her face haunts me worse than they ever could.

So many pictures...

You could call me a collector.

For so long, for so many fights, in so many blasts of ectoplasmic energy, and for so many of those lonely nights and mornings, there has been only one thing standing in our way: Jack Fenton. Could a world without such a man even exist?

Well, it does... tonight.

Thirty minutes, Maddie...

With the aforementioned skillset I've boasted, these minutes are able to whip up quite the hardy dinner date, complete with everything from the freshest steaks from the almost freshest cows, their freshest milk and cheese, and the most aged and locked away wine, festering in at least three of my dungeons for at least two decades. The table is set, the finest (and freshest) silverware is laid out. The mirrors are all slightly tilted, so as not to distract my love with too many a horrible scene of my minions ready to kill her son if need be, in case of a backup plan.

The doorbell rings... "Maddie!" my voice confidently addresses, forgetting social cues. "You look so lovely... given such terrible circumstances."

Her eyes tear through me like ghost-obliterating lasers, and her face is pale and puzzled.

"Vlad..."

The moment is stolen by a snot-nosed little shit named Danny. His stare instantly becomes a threat of violence alone. There is a tension between us all that festers like an ever-expanding elephant in the rooms of my castle. I have to tell the truth, instantly.

"I didn't kill your father, Daniel. But please, come in! -- And Maddie, I will have your coat lined up on the finest of coathangers, and--"

"Vlad--" she intercepts like Brett Farve to score a touchdown in my heart. "I--"

"You must be so tired!" I desperately try to persuade her into security of my smile. "Have you ever felt the material of a six hundred thousand dollar expandable bed on your legs before? It's... really quite divine."

"It sounds lovely, Vlad," Maddie admits, delighting me, but likewise she toys with my heart with her every word. "But I really don't know if it's appropriate to be meeting like this so soon.."

"Oh, Maddie," I say, my voice cracking in genuine concern, "Even as a grieving widow, your eyes are still no more nor less haunting than before."

"Cut the shit, Vlad!" her misfit child barks at me. "I know you had something to do with this!"

"Oh, hush, boy," I say, undettered. "As I've been telling your mother for... exactly three hours and twenty eight minutes straight of text messages and Skype calls -- I'm here to help."

"I... want to believe that, Vlad" Maddie whimpers. Such delicate pain -- pain I know all too well, somehow, in longing for her. I have something for her tonight that will change everything we have ever known... my last chance at winning her heart.

"Please come in."

Touchdown, Packers.

The evening dinner goes smoothly enough, with the obvious passive aggression between me and the boy. Maddie even eats like an angel. I hope she doesn't mind me staring, in between the usual condolences and small talk about our favorite wines and cheeses. It's a touchy subject -- the Jack thing, as you can imagine, and she is in a state of grief. I am doing my best to prepare her for this truth that Jack never saw coming.

(Frankly, neither did I!)

What I had not ever truly known in all these years was there was a ghost among the presence of my castle that was not only strong enough to merely kill Jack or Danny -- but one that might resolve the pieces of my heart to repair -- repair in Maddie's arms at last! It was a freak accident that changed my life, but as such, I was not Jack's only mistake in the world of ghostly mischief. Allow me to ellaborate. A chance encounter with another immortal  showed me what I really became on the day that ripped me away from her, and drove her into Fenton's arms. A keeper of time and potential fate, Clockwork, had mumbled to me about ghosts not always being what we think of them to be. Sometimes feelings can be ghosts, too.

(Then he tried to kill me; go figure.)

"Daniel, could you excuse me and your mother for a moment?"

"No way, dude. I am NOT leaving you alone with my mom after what you--"

"Danny, please!" Maddie's voice interrupts us, heavenly and reserved as she is stern, and so the true conversation can begin. Danny slips out of the room, watching me in his every step as he goes to what I hope is the last possible bathroom on the furthest end of the castle.

Minutes tick by, and the conversations do rightfully shift to talk of Jack and Danny, and the wheels of fate that turn for us all now.

"I know your secret, Vlad," Maddie declares. "I know about your life as Plasmius, your countless attempts on Jack's life -- what you've done on your expensive beds -- everything!"

I gasp. "Maddie!  How could you accuse me of such awful and atrocious things? Surely you would not have come all the way out here just to toss around such hurtful accusations!"

"Danny always told me I shouldn't trust you, Vlad..."

"Danny is a fool, Maddie. He has grown up being overshadowed by that big, lumbering wall of a husband of yours. Both of you have been restraining your true potential -- potential that I can--"

"Enough!" she interrupts, glaring at me with hellish eyes that I know are serious... but something behind the fire beckons me still.

"How did you find out?" I prod.

She looks into my eyes and begins our psychological game of musical chairs. Both of us are refusing to stand, now, deadlocked into cemented stance, waiting for each other's move.

"I have my ways, Vlad. I have been onto your true motives for quite some time." "My 'true motives?'" I question. "Why did you come out here if you think I killed him?" Maddie says nothing, her lips devoid of a twitch, and her eyes too vigilant to fall off of me with more than a blink.

"Do you also know about Danny's powers?"

She nods.

This is all going so much better than I had anticipated...

The music has long since died. "Are you and Danny going to try to kill me?" I ask, smirking. "If you're going to take advice from him, you should ask him how many times I've died. It's honestly not many, Maddie... and never for as long as Jack."

Maddie hesitates for a moment, a bit of blood rushing to her head as she lets the wine settle in her stomach.

"I need to know what happened to him. I know that you know... Vlad Plasmius."

Hearing her call me by that name sends a quiver down my spine with the force of ten thousand Fenton-patented spiritual spine beams. I try to maintain my composure, and disicpline.

"If you knew what I knew," I respond, "you'd know I didn't kill him. Jack killed himself... in a way."

"How dare you!" she screeches. "Are you saying that--"

"Maddie -- what I'm saying is, we are on the cusp of something that no one could have truly understood before."

"What are you talking about?" Maddie demands.

"-- What killed Jack -- what gave me and Danny our powers -- what compelled you here, if not to avenge him -- it's all part of the same thing, Maddie. We are all summoning a great supernatural energy -- here, and now. You and I are the rightful owners of this energy -- not you and Jack!"

A part of the truth leaks from my lips like cosmic sludge. I wipe my mouth and wait for her to catch an interest in my information. It's a very curious game.

"You're... not making any sense... " she mumbles. "At least... not much sense. A little, I think."

"Yes," I confirm. "You know it in your heart, don't you? -- On the day of the accident, a terrible crime was committed against fate... a crime that robbed me of my humanity -- and of you! Yet, one was many in a list of crimes that begin and end with the Fenton name! I should be the one taking care of you -- the one honing your crafts with my own. Jack ensured that all I would ever have was a bucket full of extra crispy for a head!"

"And there you go on again," she shoots down, "always the same stories, always the same people to blame. Have you ever EVEN ONCE considered that I chose Jack over you because I genuinely loved him, and NOT because your face was fried chicken?"

"Yes, Maddie," I concede. "I have considered all possible fates since that day, and all foods in which to compare my face to -- hopelessly wandering through space and time to reconcile this matter -- why I feel so alone without you. Why the ghosts around us all are conspiring in such anger; why you ended up with such a ... a bafoon! They say opposites attract, but my--"

"Stop talking about him like that!" she warns. "How can you say such things about my husband -- your former friend -- if you were not the one who killed him! He loved me -- and he loved you! You were like a brother to him!"

"HA!" I deflect. "That oafish fence post couldn't calibrate a calculator! He never truly cared about my talents -- or yours! It was always US, Maddie -- the brains of the team -- the true Masters of the unseen! Jacky-boy was just along for the ride!"

"You're insane," Maddie spits.

"I know," I acknowledge, sipping the wine and building a rather impressive statue to myself out of toothpicks on my dinner plate as we talk (one of my many hidden talents). "You always said that the 'mad scientist' thing was a turn on, didn't you?" I smile.

"Vlad..." Maddie blushes, "That ... was years ago."

"Eternities," I correct. "Each of them spent in my own personal hell without you."

"Me...?"

"You, Maddie..." I call out, declaring my undying devotion. "For all of these days and nights and years and crimes -- it has always been the pain of really losing you that has driven me to these low frequences..."

Maddie looks to the ground, for a second, slightly lost and assessing her thoughts.

"We did have some good times together, didn't we...?"

An unexpected wall has come down in her temperment. I catch her lost in reflections of a life that should have continued on with us together -- days and nights of lab partners and friends and potentially so much more -- Vlad... and Maddie. Unfortunately, connecting the dots reveals that our love story has always been, indeed, a tragedy.

... Until tonight? "Remember  when I won those tickets for that Packers game, for the stadium near our old lab?"

Finally -- a smile comes to the sweet widow's lips and she almost trips into a slight chuckle.

"Of course!" she beams.  "That was crazy!"

"Yes," I agree -- "more than you know, for more reasons than you understand."

Maddie shakes her head.

"'You're looking sharp!'" she quotes herself from the day in question, giggling in slight self-deprecation. "I was such a dork back then!"

"No... you weren't," I reassure her. "You were beautiful then, and you're beautiful now.

"Vlad..." Maddie blushes. She tries to steer my mind towards the events of that fateful day. "You were so excited! You ran to tell me, as I was--"

"You were wearing your labcoat," I begin to effortlessly recall, finishing her thought, "hiding a blue halter top, a studded belt, and a purple skirt with flowing fabric, like ribbons. You were working on an experiment..."

"The Spectral Emotional Ecto Sludge," she correctly remembers. "I forgot all about that nasty, brown goop. It was so ugly... so sticky and slimy, so--"

"So like HIM!" I shout at her, startling even myself, a bit.  Maddie is taken off her guard by my conviction, but that is okay. I have my reasons for making an enemy of the Sludge I met on that day, and they are the same as my vendetta against her late, great Jack: it cost me yet another chance with her!"

-- "Hey Vlad! You're looking sharp!" Maddie called from afar, deep within a memory forcing its way through my powerful brain. "Whatcha' so excited for?"

My eyes soon caught the aforementioned ribbon-like fabric of her unforgettable purple skirt. It flew through the air like angel wings. Those eyes very quickly went to hers, though, as I tried not to stare.

(I may be a villain, but I'm not a creeper.)

Mainly I remember this occurance because it felt like a gust of wind had taken up toward me as I entered the lab through the creaky door, tickets outstretched in excitement with my flailing hands trying to reach for Maddie. It was as if I was having a premonition before I actually had the ability to have them (a prepremonition).

I was so happy. This was finally my chance to win her over -- to ask her out on a date to one of the biggest games in history!

(Okay, it actually wasn't an important game, but free tickets are free tickets, and boy, did I need an excuse to work up the nerve.) "Maddie!" I gleefully called out as a mere mortal man. Up until a certain point, I'd consider these the simpler days. "I have some amazing news!"

"I can tell!" she boasted with a surprised smile. "Your emotions are radiating throughout the Sludge -- which, of course, means the experiment was a resounding success!"

Delighted with her own information first, she beamed.

"What is that?" I asked, puzzled and broken away, too, from my own cause of success. Like a supermodel posing with a product, her hand held a meager tupperware container among the land of test tubes. In it was a sight that scars my eyes to this day.

"Well!" Maddie grinned, seemingly waiting for hours just to be asked -- "This little baby is the magical -- the fantasical -- the -- Spectral Emotional Ecto Sludge!"

I tilted my head slightly to the left, thinking to myself how deeply I was falling in love with her every graceful gesture. I had to keep these feelings to myself, so I resigned to looking rightfully puzzled by her experiment. "Spectral... Emotional ... Sludge?"

"Sort of!" she laughed, and true to its name, there was an emotional reaction to match her own within the brown, toxic slime. It danced to the sound of her voice, highly reactive.

"What does it do?" I pondered to her, intrigued. "Well," -- and Maddie hesitated with a flush upon her face that made my heart skip, here -- "I'm not exactly sure?"

Both Maddie and the slime coyly shrugged.

"It's supposed to read the emotions of the people it comes into contact with," she continued, "and what I was hoping for was that it could help communicate emotional resonance in the supernatiral realms, too... but..."

"But it's dancing." I smiled. "Maddie, you're a genius!"

She took a quick bow, drinking in my admiration, before finally acknowledging what I was holding.

"What are those?" she asked, the slime still hypnotically clinging to her voice in a dance.

"Well!" -- and I tried to use the same inflection as her, to make her laugh (and it worked; yes!). "Do you remember the call-in show from a week ago?"

"Yeah--?"

-- "MADDIE!" -- -- Just then, a second gust of wind generated -- a huge one --  the wind generated by a man wearing tights one-fourths his size, and incredible amount of hot air coming from his own bullshit. Imagine as gorrilla had mated with an ostrich at a superhero convention, and that would only cover his mother's genes -- but I digress. The oafish, walking fencepost returned.

"Jack!"

And as if compelled by the hands of fate, as Maddie's voice rang out in confusion of the three of us all in a state of excitement at once, the slime hopped up from its container, hurling itself in the air like a sentient pile of flying vomit.

(About that premonition...)

"OH NO!" screamed Maddie.

"NO!" Jack screamed like a mentally stunted chimpanzee. "Maddie! Vlad is projectile vomiting  --  QUICK! -- FIND SOMETHING ABSORBANT BEFORE IT STAINS THE LAB!"

"WHAT?!" I tried to scream out in confusion, but it was too late. Like an obliviously charging rhino, Jack began hurling towards me. "JACK, NO!"

"Jack!" Maddie cried out in sincere panic -- "It's -- NO! -- IT'S -- "

The tickets were ripped from my hand before I could say anything else, and I went hurling in the other direction of Jack, and the "puke" for about five feet, before landing on the ground, horrified.

"PAPER SHOULD DO THE JOB! WAY TO ALWAYS BE RESOURSEFUL, VLADDIE! -- EVEN WHEN YOU'RE SICK!"

The sentient Ecto Sludge ate the tickets in the air in an instant, controlled by the will of its stupid and unrightful wielder. It then grew exponentially in size until it covered the walls of the lab... but in an instant, it was gone. In one twist of fate to add to the list of all the ways Jack had robbed me of Maddie -- even in freak accidents no one could have forseen -- another notch was added in the belt. As I told you before, I have begun to better understand Jack in wake of his passing. This day, though I had no true way of knowing, up until tonight, sealed his fate. But I'm getting ahead of myself again. The food is eaten. The drinks are drank. -- "You didn't tell us that those were tickets for weeks!" Maddie recalls, laughing with a snort and reflecting back much differently than me on the memory.  " -- Even up until the day of the game, you just kept sulking and sulking! You didn't even show up for the next couple--"

"-- It's his fault!" I scream, rageful. "It's always been! That should have been OUR game!" "Vlad..." "Maddie -- you don't understand," I plead. "Can you not see that I've waited lifetimes just for a moment like this alone with you again?

"Alone... with me?"

"You're laughing again, Maddie," I remark. "Do you know how long I've waited to hear you laugh or smile and think of me?"

"You..."

Finally, I begin to read a shred sympathy in the voice of my beloved -- one that she has denied for so long, just like Jack has. She has such an innocent coyness to her... behind the makeup, behind the tears. She has spent all of this time untamed. Her powers could have even rivaled mine, in terms of sheer intellect. But like the dulling of a blade, her thoughts and memories and dreams fade away into memories of Jack. "You talk about him like he was just something in your way," she moans, saddened.

I want to blurt out, "he was" -- to sink back into sheer hatred and revenge -- but the game has changed, and I want to return her lowered guard with genuine affection. Both of us are grieving in very different ways. "Maddie," I concede, "Perhaps I was misguided in seeking revenge in the ways I have before. Perhaps, if you were happy with him, I can be happy for you. The main thing that I wanted you to see tonight is that you would have been -- and could still be -- much happier with me." "Vlad..." she sinks, almost recoiling into her seat. "Why have you always been so... interested in me? With all your power and money, you could have anyone in the world -- or ANY world. Why ME?"

"You..." and my voice and heart both skip in tune.

"Think about it," she suggests, like the hushing of the words that I cannot yet follow with. "Get back to me... after you tell me how you killed my husband."

"I -- I ... didn't kill him," I assure her -- and to me, this is still the truth.

"Can you prove that to me tonight?" she sternly asks in the tone of an almost threat or warning.

"If I can..." I begin to bargain " ... will you stay with me tonight?"

"Vlad... I... " -- she turns her head and fades in and out of racing thoughts and priorities, confused about her true feelings. I anticipated this moment. I have been waiting restless eternities -- as I've rambled on about. "Think about it," I smirk.

Maddie is not impressed... just still very lost.

My hands wish to touch her cheek.

My long, expensive overcoats long to keep her body warm.

"I love him, Vlad, living or dead, killed by you or ten thousand grisly ghosts -- I love Jack."

"But you love me, too... don't you, Maddie?"

"I..."

"Isn't that why you came here, Maddie...? Do you not remember the good times with me -- times where Jack would never cease to screw up, and yet you never stopped forgiving him? Why? Why, Maddie?"

She cannot reply, her breath and eyes stolen by an oncoming emotion. Her breath smells of Merlot, and her words are from the heart.

"It wasn't ... exactly a grisly," I begin, drawing her to stay on her guard. She takes the bait, and gives me an angered look. "What was it, Vlad? What happened? What do you know?"

"Maddie," I begin to unravel a bit, again, with the truth. "All I have ever wanted to know in life was your love... not a world of grisly ghosts."

" What kind of ghost have you been hiding from me, Vlad?"

My brow lowers. My body stiffens. One more drink of wine... is drank.

"I know of a ghost more powerful and brutal than those you and your family have struggled to understand," I begin, -- "one that feeds on anger, hate, and pain...  and of that pain, I know a pit so deep and eternal that it could never contain said ghost. It longs forever, wishing to belong to something -- to attach to someone -- and it waits, and festers and and goes insane... like me. With that pain and insanity, festering under the surface of my power and your marriage, we have likewise birthed a rival to Jack much like me, as well."

"This is pointless." Maddie retorts, catching me off my guard. "You're still just rattling off nonsense. Do you still think you are the only one who is in pain, Vlad? Do you have any idea how you and your powers have hurt other people? If there is such a ghost -- such a creature -- such a MONSTER -- how is it not you, yourself -- your ego, your plans -- YOUR cause?"

Now it is my turn to hesitate.

"There are far worse monsters than simply me, Maddie," I begin to my love, still overtaken with the weight of all my devious decisions visa vis her attempted guilt trip.  "Likewise, there are many causes to fight for -- 'the Ecno Acne Supercure Fundraising Agogo-plex,' for one -- but I digress. With absolute power, corruption is absolutely essential, is it not? With all of this power, the temptation to rule the galaxy would be strong for anyone -- even your son -- and even you, Maddie."

"I'm not like you, Vlad," she dismisses. "I don't desire power. I want to make the world a better place -- for me -- for Danny, for everyone--"

"Young Danny has yet to fully grow into his powers," I remind her " -- to realize the potential laid out before us, as demigods. I only wish now to guide him to understand the worlds beyond our own, and yet still -- you -- and he deny me -- empowering a father that has no clue how to handle him, this power, or ... you."

"Yeah?" Maddie shrugs, seeming to tire of the conversation reaching a vague stalemate. "Well, it's too late for that, now," she laments. "Jack's dead... and you're going to tell me what happened to him, and... where's Danny?!"

Oh, great. Now even Jack Fenton's sperm has to interfere with my life in his absence.

"I'm sure he's fine -- probably 'going ghost' or something uninteresting such as --" A large amount of thudding and banging interrupts me -- followed by a voice I wish would dissipate into the brick walls.

"MOM! GET OUT! GET OUT OF HERE! IT'S A--"

"DANNY!"

Maddie topples the wine glass off of the table, and begins to take out of the castle room before I can even stand up. More loud noises echo out of our reach. Something is causing a great havoc all of a sudden... and I know exactly what it is. Damn it. I was expecting showtime to not be so early...

The thudding and banging continue as I chase after her, calling her name in genuine concern, because I know what she is racing towards. She, of course, ignores my pleas, as any mother would, and tries to find her son (whom I assume is righteously getting his ass kicked, as he so often tends to do in my castle).

I knew it was only a matter of time before the boy discovered what truly killed his father. I figured I'd see if I could get a two-for-one kind of deal before I moved in for Maddie. I suppose it's too late now... but no matter.

Let the show begin.

As I chase after her, I remember how long I've been chasing... how long I've been longing. More flashbacks ceaslessly pound against my mind like ping pong, remembering the older days between Maddie and I. I wonder as I follow her racing footsteps if my own seemingly endless corridor is a metaphor of some kind. I've been chasing her for so long, always being pulled away, always being hurled up into the big, stupid arms of the hero. Tonight, she will know her hero isn't dead.

He's me. I feel like my mind is a straight, thin line, like every hallway... an arrow to Maddie's heart.

As she finally opens the door, she gasps loudly enough to count as an explosion. She sees her boy knocked unconscious on the floor, bruised and beaten, as I had anticipated. He is buried underneath dust and rubble, but so far, there is no sign of his attacker. She rushes to his side, and from her position to check his status, she gives me a scowl.

"You!" she screams. "I knew I couldn't trust you! What have you done?!"

"Maddie--" I plead, now realizing that our former game of musical chairs has ended, and both of us are scrambling to find a proper seat in the room, before we get taken out. "This is actually the one time when you NEED to trust me -- or your son, and you, and I -- will --"

Just then, a terribly familiar brown, sluggish goop begins to form all over the walls...

Maddie's expression has turned to shock and panic to horror, and something familiar. It's almost as if the memory has summoned an old foe to the scene, and it reacts with matched hysterics. The walls begin to crumble and tear apart, sinking into the readings of everyone's panic. It's a vicious cycle, as the more Maddie and I become unhinged, so too, does the world around us... literally. The Sludge is rageful... wrathful. It will not stop until the paradox of our emotions is resolved. What Clockwork had revealed to me, after I bested him in battle, was that the Spectral Emotional Ecto Sludge, was in itself, now like a ghost. It had been feeding on all of our collective misery since that day... at least, mine. The tickets were not made of a very absorbant material, to say the least... but when I held them with the intention of winning Maddie over, that intention resonated. Eating the tickets fed the Sludge knowledge of our curious triangle. It had been festering for far too long.

It wanted Fenton.

Perhaps the whole time, fate was trying to rectify what I never could.

Needless to say, I had been attempting to track it down for quite some time since learning of its intention... but it had always eluded me... just like Maddie... until tonight -- also just like Maddie -- it showed up at my door... exactly one hour before she did.

But now, Maddie has finally returned to see the weight of her own grief and mine combined and threatening to kill us both. Now, she is in danger.

I have to show my true form; no need to hide it from her anymore.

("Going Ghost!" is still such a stupid catch phrase, by the way.)

Once transformed again into my Plasmius ways, I try my best to shield her from the oncoming debris, generated by the Sludge. My powers shine in kinetic lightning, phasering rocks and expensive items from other rooms that the monster is summoning with its rampage to fly at us. I shoot many a blast at every slimy, oozing piece of matter I see... but it seems completely unaffected.

"VLAD!" she screams, "GET US OUT OF HERE!"

"I can't!" I shout back, trying to talk over the rumbling bricks and pillars.

"What the hell do you mean you CAN'T?!"

A few more useless blasts at the Sludge dishearten me. I have to admit something to Maddie that normally a man of my status would not let his pride allow... but again, it is the truth.

"Even with all my power," I concede, "I know of no way to stop this thing!"

Maddie is cradling Danny, holed up in storage of the room's corner now that seems shadowed away from the Sludge. I can see in her eyes that even admist the panic, her mind is racing to assess new information. The look she gives me almost continues our conversation in the other room without us having to.

"The... Sludge...!" Maddie calls. "The Sludge killed Jack?!"

The room stabilizes now slightly as if our  goopy enemy wants to answer. My hands tire from wielding my powers.

"Do you remember?" I ask her in the becoming calm of the Sludge's storm. "Do you remember how you felt on that day you say me, before the accident -- before the madness?"

"What?" -- Again, Maddie is confused.

"I was 'looking sharp' -- remember?"

"Vlad -- what --"

"Maddie! You -- me, Jack -- we've all been feeding this thing for years. All of the battles -- all of the madness -- all of the scorn and jealousy and all of your research -- it can wield it all against us! This is more powerful than all of us combined... and we can't all combine anymore!"

"It's..."

-- "It's just you and me now, Maddie..." I finish for her.

"Vlad... what have we done...?"

Maddie's resignation to her fear, like the starting of an engine, roars again the Sludge to rear its ugly head, in its true form, this time, as well. A goop that pours from the walls piles into the corner adjacent to Maddie and Danny.  It begins to grow bigger, and bigger. Ominously, it assembles itself like a creature looking far too big for a human, and far too... solid, for a ghost or goop. It's changing its properties fast, drinking in Maddie's fear and my yearning. The Sludge has grown up into a villainous, vile dasdardly, worthy of my army...

But I would never command anything to hurt Maddie! --  (the boy -- sure -- and often -- but --)

"VLAD!" Remembering that day I first encountered the sludge, I reach into my pocket for my only real idea as to how to combat this perdicament. In my suit pocket, now slightly stained with wine, is a long, yellow envelope.

"What... what is that?" Maddie trembles as the monster moves towards her.

"Well!" I gleefully say, recalling our old life,  "it's an 'ace in the hole' -- a secret weapon I've been saving to wield for a few days, wrestling with this decision. Every tragic love story needs a sacrifice -- right, Maddie?"

"What are you TALKING about?!" she screeches. "Are you going to... mail a letter while this thing kills me?!"

I grimmace. Carefully, my powerful hand opens the envelope, and pulls out an obnoxiously long piece of paper.

"Maddie," I decree, while savoring the mere seconds before the monster finds her. "They finally sold me the team."

"... What?!"

"-- The Packers, Maddie -- they made me an offer. All I have to do is sign it and--"

"VLAD!" Maddie screams, now visibly in tears, "HOW CAN YOU BE SO SELFISH RIGHT NOW?! DO YOU WANT ME TO--" "I WANT YOU TO SEE THIS!" I scream.

"See WHAT!?"

With time running out, I make my move.

"None of this, Maddie --  NONE OF THIS means anything to me anymore -- not the Packers, not this world or the world unseen -- absolutely NOTHING -- if I do not have you. Why you? -- Why YOU? -- I'll tell you why -- because you make me want to be GOOD, Maddie. These ghosts have been restless for so long -- all because of our tragic romance. You know in your heart that I could have given you more than he ever could, and YOU KNOW IT, TOO -- YOU UGLY, BIG PILE OF SHIT!"

Without a single flinch of hesitation, I fling the unsigned contract into the monster.

It sinks like a fish into Jello into its back. The sacrifice has been made.

Maddie screams.

Silence holds for a few seconds now in her echo. The monster stands still.

The monster roars.

"SHIT!"

My mind is racing for a way to kill this thing. If none of the Fentons could do it, it's up to me.

Wait...

None of the Fentons...

"Maddie!"

As the room is engulfed in an ominous gold glow, and the Sludge creature inches towards Maddie, who is too tired to try and fight, time almost stops as it did in all of my terrible encounters with Jack that changed my life. Now it all is starting to make sense.

Maddie hangs her head down, accepting her fate, and Danny's.

"Goodbye, Vlad... I..."

"You..."

The final puzzle piece of the Sludge mystery fits, and as it raises a hand that has hardened from goo to solid stone to crush the love of my life, I cry out to her.

"SAY YOU LOVE ME, MADDIE!"

"What--?"

"SAY YOU LOVE ME!"

"But I --"

"Jack always knew it, Maddie -- he knew that we had something that he could never have with you -- never did. He was his own worst enemy. It was only a matter of time before his own mistakes caught up with him... but you... you're so brilliant, Maddie -- so wonderful and truly good! You don't deserve this! He wouldn't have wanted things to end this way! And it can only end this way if you refuse to see what you and I have been running from for YEARS--"

-- "VLAD! I LOVE YOU!" --

What...?

Hell freezes over.

The monster crumbles into dust.

As the castle starts to further rip itself apart in resolution of the monster's feelings (and ours) I use all of my strength to create a shield around me and Maddie (and begrudgingly, the boy as well). In flashes of light so bright that death itself would lose focus, I nearly pass out from the toll of the ecto-shield.

(Thanks for helping, Danny. Little shit.)

I swear I must be dead. I swear I must be.

Is this Heaven?

Maddie is resting in my arms now as her son had been resting in hers. The castle walls around us have crumbled... and she loves me. "The... experiment..." Maddie groans, groggily struggling to stay awake. "It... was... my fault."

"There is no such thing as fault, my love," I whisper in her ear as I dry her cheeks, "only fate, now."

"... Fate..." Maddie whispers. "Could you... really have been mine... all along?"

Exhausted, she fades away into a sleep that weighs lovingly on me. I am overjoyed.

Wars have been started over lessser heroines. Helen of Troy was a mere fairytale by long dead warriors. Juliet was a mere sillouette in romance poetry when compared to the light of my long lost Lenore.  Joan of Arc became a Pop Tart for a shred of my conviction. For me, there is only one name on the Marque -- Maddie.

I had known for far too long that we had a fire of chemestry. It ignited a passion that Jack wouldn't stand for. Like beasts, we both beat our chests, performing for Maddie's approval. Jack's least impressive stunt, it seems, had finally cost him his life... But I think MY life is finally starting to turn around.

Jack Fenton is dead.

Maddie Fenton is safe, where she belongs... Sometimes, emotions can be ghosts, too -- unresolved feelings so powerful that they may just resolve themselves.

"Take these broken wings and learn to fly again."

Let's fly, Maddie.