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Lydia Deetz felt the air rush out of her chest as she tumbled into the Neitherworld, her feet skidding on its uneven ground. Her lungs screamed for breath that no longer came, and panic welled in her chest as she tried to process what had just happened. One moment, her life had been playing out like any other mundane day, and the next, everything shattered. Her final moments blurred in her memory: the screech of tires, the sickening crunch of metal, and then... nothing. Just a cold, suffocating silence before this.
Now, she stood amid the surreal landscape of the Neitherworld. A thick, swirling fog, tinged with shades of gray, stretched out in every direction, distorting the world around her. It felt familiar, disturbingly so. Adjusting the hem of her dress—black, gothic, lace-trimmed, as always—she ran a shaky hand through her dark hair, trying to gather her thoughts. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she clenched them into a fist, forcing herself to stay composed. This wasn’t the first time she’d been here. She had visited briefly before, when she came to rescue Astrid, but that had been fleeting. Now, it was permanent. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
The grotesque, uncanny charm of the Neitherworld remained unchanged—twisted trees bent at odd angles, buildings loomed with crooked windows and doors that didn’t seem to fit their frames. It was as if the place itself had been stitched together from broken dreams and half-forgotten nightmares. Despite the eeriness, Lydia had always felt a strange, reluctant admiration for the place. She never admitted it out loud, not back then. But there was something about its unapologetic weirdness that resonated with her, a part of her that she had always kept hidden.
But this time, something was off. There was a shift in the air, a tension she couldn't quite place. Then, out of the corner of her eye, a flash of sickly green cut through the fog, electric and vibrant against the dull gloom. The hair on the back of her neck bristled. She didn’t need to turn around to know what—who—was waiting for her. The presence was unmistakable.
She turned slowly, her heart thudding in her chest despite the strange calm that had settled over her. There, in the hazy distance, a figure materialized from the mist, grinning wide enough to split his face. Beetlejuice.
"Well, well, well! If it isn’t my favorite recently deceased Annabel Lee!" Beetlejuice’s voice dripping with that same grating, sandpaper rasp she hadn’t heard in years. His presence was as unmistakable as it was obnoxious. He was still decked out in his signature black-and-white striped suit, the fabric looking even more frayed and chaotic than she remembered. His wild neon green hair seemed to have a life of its own, sticking out at impossible angles as though it were caught in a perpetual storm, and his eyes gleamed with a manic energy that sent sparks through the heavy atmosphere.
That wide, crooked grin stretched across his pale, decayed face, teeth yellowed and uneven, as he took her in. It was a grin that could swallow the world. Lydia rolled her eyes, arms crossing over her chest as she tried to steel herself against the whirlwind of chaos she knew was about to follow. "Beetlejuice," she deadpanned, voice dripping with exasperation. "I should’ve known you’d show up the second I croaked."
"Babes, I’ve been waiting for this moment!" he cackled, throwing his arms wide with theatrical flair, "You think I wouldn’t know the second you bit the dust? Pfft, please. I got the death notifications, like, immediately!" He snapped his fingers, and for emphasis, a gaudy-looking scroll materialized in his hand, unfurling with a loud crack. He squinted dramatically at it, muttering, "Lydia Deetz—officially deceased. Cause of death: vehicular splat!" He rolled it back up, tossing it carelessly over his shoulder before fixing her with that unnervingly gleeful stare.
Before she could muster a response, Beetlejuice’s expression shifted—his eyes widening as if struck by sudden inspiration. With a theatrical flourish, he dropped to one knee, the motion so abrupt that it kicked up a swirl of fog around him. Lydia’s breath caught as she watched, her stomach twisting with equal parts dread and disbelief. And maybe, shamefully, with hints of excitement.
“Lydia Deetz, you’ve dumped me at the altar twice already, but come on, baby—you and I both know third time’s the charm, right?" From seemingly nowhere, he produced a silver ring, complete with a red gem shaped like a spider that glistened in the dim light of the Neitherworld. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, that ridiculous smirk growing wider until it threatened to split his face in two. "Now that you’re dead, what’s stopping us, huh? Will you marry me?"
Lydia stared at him, her mouth hanging open in utter disbelief. Her brain stalled, refusing to process the absurdity of the scene unfolding before her. The Neitherworld had always been bizarre, a fever dream made real, but this was on a whole new level of ridiculous. Of course Beetlejuice would be the first to greet her in the afterlife. Of course he would pop the question within moments of her arrival. And naturally, he’d waste no time in making the situation as outrageous as possible.
"Are you serious right now?" Lydia finally sputtered, her voice teetering between irritation and incredulous laughter. The sight of him on one knee, grinning like a deranged Cheshire cat, was almost too much to bear.
Beetlejuice blinked up at her with wide, expectant eyes, his grin unfaltering. "Dead serious, babes. Come on, it’s perfect! Now that you’ve kicked the bucket, we can finally be together forever, just like you always wanted!"
Lydia groaned, burying her face in her hands. Partially so she didn’t have to look at his expectant expression anymore and partially to hide her smile. "I never said I wanted that, you maniac."
Beetlejuice shrugged, nonchalant. "Tomato, tomahto." He extended the ring a little closer, wiggling his fingers as if to coax her into taking it. "So, what d’ya say? You, me, eternal unholy matrimony? No more pesky breathing or heartbeat to get in the way!"
She felt the immediate urge to reject him rise in her chest—of course she was going to say no. That’s how this always went, right? They’d been through this ridiculous scenario before, and she had left him at the altar not once, but twice. Surely, Beetlejuice would have gotten the hint by now.
But something made her hesitate. Her response, poised and ready to fly from her lips, faltered. This wasn’t just the usual sleazy, obnoxious Beetlejuice trying to manipulate his way into her life—or afterlife, now. No, there was something else lurking behind that smug grin of his, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. His eyes, usually gleaming with mischievous delight or dangerous ambition, were softer now. Was it possible? Could there actually be... sincerity in his gaze?
"Beetlejuice..." she started, her voice betraying her confusion. She wasn’t even sure how to begin untangling the mess of thoughts running through her mind. The sheer absurdity of this situation would have been laughable if it weren’t so... real. "You’ve really been waiting for this, haven’t you?"
“Uh, yeah! What, you thought I was just gonna let you waltz into the Neitherworld without a proper welcome?” He scoffed, his grin widening, but it lacked the usual mocking edge. “I’ve been dreaming about this for ages, Lyds. You and me—forever."
His voice, still raspy and over-the-top, held an undercurrent of something Lydia hadn’t expected—genuine longing. The words hung in the air, and for the first time, she hesitated to give him her usual biting retort. It would have been so easy, so familiar to just turn away, to mock his proposal and walk off. But something stopped her.
She glanced down at him, still kneeling before her, holding out that ridiculous silver ring with the gaudy red spider-shaped gem. It should have been laughable—it was laughable—but as Beetlejuice gazed up at her, there was an earnestness in his expression she’d never really noticed before. His mismatched eyes gleamed, not with the usual chaotic energy that seemed to crackle around him like static, but with something closer to hope. Real hope.
It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. But Lydia found herself frozen, unable to just brush it off like she usually did. Because he wasn’t wrong, was he? She was dead now. The living world, with all its rules and expectations, was behind her. Her life as she knew it had ended, and whatever came next—this strange, eerie afterlife—was what she had to face now. And who else was here, waiting for her at the gate, so to speak? Beetlejuice. For all his flaws, for all his chaos and sleaziness, he had always been there when it counted.
A flood of memories surfaced, unbidden: him helping her save the Maitlands and Astrid, showing her Rory’s true intentions, even in his most obnoxious moments, always sticking by her side when the chips were down. As annoying and exasperating as he could be, there was something comforting in his constant presence. He was always there, a twisted anchor in the madness of both worlds.
And now, here he was again, offering her not just a ring, but the possibility of something new, something different—absurd, yes, but also strangely appealing in its own twisted way.
Her chest tightened as the weight of her new reality settled over her. She was dead. Really, truly dead. And maybe, just maybe, there was a kind of freedom in that. No more worrying about the living world. No more rules, no more obligations. Just eternity—whatever that might mean now.
Beetlejuice, still kneeling, shifted impatiently, clearly trying to gauge her reaction. His grin faltered slightly, the confident façade slipping just enough to reveal a glimmer of vulnerability behind his manic bravado. He had never been good at hiding his emotions when it really mattered, and right now, despite the theatrics, Lydia could see the truth in his eyes. He meant it, ridiculous as it seemed.
And then, before she could fully stop herself, a smile began to tug at the corners of her lips. It was slow at first, hesitant, like she couldn’t quite believe what she was doing, but it was there. Maybe it was the surreal nature of the afterlife affecting her, or maybe she had just reached a point where the absurdity of everything finally made sense. Either way, something inside her softened, something she hadn’t realized had been clenched tight for years.
“Fine,” Lydia said, her voice quiet but steady, surprising even herself. The word felt foreign on her tongue, yet somehow, right.
Beetlejuice blinked, his grin faltering for just a heartbeat. The confident bravado that usually dripped from his every word vanished as if her response had short-circuited his mind. "Wait... what?" His voice, for once, was quiet—uncertain even—as if he couldn't quite grasp what he'd just heard.
Lydia folded her arms, fixing him with a steady gaze, her smirk mirroring the cockiness he'd thrown at her so many times. "I said fine. I'll marry you. You win."
For a moment, the Neitherworld itself seemed to pause in stunned silence. Beetlejuice, the chaotic, loud-mouthed ghost who never shut up, was suddenly... speechless. His eyes, usually brimming with mischief and mayhem, widened in disbelief, as if her words had lodged themselves somewhere in his brain and refused to process. It was so uncharacteristic of him that Lydia almost started to laugh right then and there.
But then, like a storm breaking, realization hit him. His face lit up—no, exploded—with manic joy. In an instant, he was back to his larger-than-life self, but now with an energy that made him seem almost electrified.
"YES! I knew it! I knew you'd come around!" His shout echoed through the swirling mists of the Neitherworld, startling a few ghastly creatures that scurried away into the shadows. Without warning, he lunged forward, grabbing Lydia's hands and pulling her into a wild spin, twirling her around with such force she felt her feet lift off the ground.
The world around them blurred into a dizzying swirl of mist and fog, but somehow, it didn’t matter. Despite herself, Lydia found laughter bubbling up in her chest, spilling out in uncharacteristic bursts as Beetlejuice spun her. The ridiculousness of the moment, the sheer absurdity of it all—her marrying him, here, in the afterlife—it was so absurd that it had circled back around to making perfect sense.
“Don’t make me regret this, Beetlejuice,” she managed to say between breaths, still laughing as he spun her like a ragdoll.
"Babes, this is gonna be the best afterlife you’ve ever had!" His gravelly voice was filled with glee as he abruptly stopped twirling her, setting her down but keeping a tight grip on her shoulders as if he couldn’t quite believe she was real. He held her at arm’s length, eyes wide and gleaming, his expression a strange mix of triumph and... something deeper. For a moment, Lydia caught a glimpse of something dangerously close to reverence in his gaze.
She let out a long, slow sigh, the kind that conveyed both amusement and exasperation. “You really never give up, do you?”
Beetlejuice grinned, but this time it was softer, less manic. His voice, when he spoke, was lower, stripped of its usual theatrics. "Not when it comes to you, Lyds." The humor that usually laced his words had been replaced by something raw, something that caught Lydia off guard. His eyes, usually wild and unpredictable, were serious now, focused entirely on her. "I told you before—I’m crazy about you. Always have been, always will be. And now that we’re both on the same side of the dirt..." His grin sharpened, but there was a flicker of sincerity beneath it, a vulnerability that rarely peeked through his usual bravado. "Nothing’s gonna stop me from showing you that."
Lydia’s heart did an unexpected flip at his words, a fluttering sensation she wasn’t prepared for. Her stomach twisted, the unfamiliar warmth creeping into her chest catching her off guard. She quickly shoved the feeling aside, rolling her eyes in that practiced, dismissive way to mask the moment of vulnerability. "Alright, alright," she said, her voice slightly more clipped than usual as she regained her composure. "But don’t think for a second this means I’m gonna put up with all your nonsense."
Beetlejuice’s grin widened, that familiar mischievous twinkle lighting up his eyes. "Wouldn’t dream of it," he said with a wink, his tone dripping with mock innocence. But they both knew it was a lie. His grin told her everything she needed to know—he’d never change. The trickster, the chaos, the relentless antics. That was Beetlejuice, through and through. And, despite herself, Lydia couldn’t deny that a small part of her found comfort in that.
She sighed again, the sound soft but with an undercurrent of something deeper—something like reluctant fondness. The kind of acceptance that she had never been ready to feel before now. Maybe it was the afterlife making things clearer, or maybe she was just too tired to fight it anymore. Either way, something in her settled as she looked at him—this ridiculous, over-the-top, infuriating ghost who had somehow been a constant presence in her life, whether she wanted him there or not. "Guess this is my life—or, well, afterlife—now, huh?" Her voice carried a hint of resignation, but there was also a trace of something lighter. Almost amused.
Beetlejuice’s grin softened, though not by much. He still had that wild, manic energy about him, but there was something different now—something a little warmer in the way he was looking at her. "Baby," he said, his voice low and filled with the promise of a thousand mischievous plans yet to unfold, "it’s gonna be a scream."
Lydia didn’t respond right away, not verbally at least. She didn’t need to. The look in her eyes, despite all her efforts to keep her usual deadpan exterior, betrayed her. As much as she might have hated to admit it, something inside her had shifted. The afterlife stretched out before her like an unwritten story, and Beetlejuice was right there, pen in hand, ready to scribble all over the pages with his chaotic, ink-splattered mess.
And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.