Nick Pugliese - Blog Posts

🎶helloooo it’s meeeee i was once again yelling into the voooid, about my favorite ship! yuuuuuriiii….and charleyyyyy….they will never take you away from me! 🎶

some of my fellow school spirits fans need to grasp that YES charley was/is in love with Emilio, he will always have a place in his heart. Love of his LIFE, etc. But my boy deserves love! he deserves someone who can hold him and see him and love him! he’s allowed the love of his afterlife too.

people can love more than one person, love for one does not negate love for another. charley’s future with yuri doesn’t erase his history with emilio.

in this essay i will-

sorry yall, that’s all lol

yall i found a charley/yuri playlist- no longer crazy lmao

📢📢GIVE ME MORE CHARLEY/YURI CONTENT NOW📢📢

*please

OMG IT'S OFFICIAL I MIGHT BE LATE FOR THIS BUT I DON'T FUCKING CAREEEEE

(gotta wait until 2026 though and that makes me sad)

BUT STILL HAPPY😆😍😘

i am also deceased if he has no fans.

Nick pugliese if you have no fans I’m dead

Spoilers for school spirits season 2 finale!!

Okay as a Charley stan first and a human being second: I have so many conflicting feelings about his scar in the finale but I just know nick had the time of his life filming that shit

Nick Pugliese 💕

October Moon

summary: everybody had had secrets. some more than others. and it'd been time for those secrets to be unearthed. too bad for Xavier he hadn't been privy to any of them.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.10

Aurora didn't know what she was doing. Read: She knew what she was doing, but hated herself a little for it and kept repeating in her head that she was going crazy. Nothing was wrong. It was a reaction to discovering Dave wasn't who she'd thought he was and now her brain had a hard time deciphering who was friend and who was foe.

Totally rational.

Despite how often she told herself this was confirmation bias or a side-effect of her paranoia, she couldn't shake the feeling that Austin Baxter was hiding something. How the hell had he known the missing ingredient in her tea?

She'd foregone drinking it after she'd remembered how nonchalantly he'd reminded her of the passionflower. Poured it down the drain and tossed the bag of ingredients in the trash. Aurora hadn't forgotten how you'd asked her not to drink it. How weird you'd been about the tea and Dave and, huh, Aurora wondered if you knew something she didn't. Say, about what was actually wrong with the tea or about Austin and his new gift of knowing things he reasonably shouldn't...

As she followed Austin's cruiser around the corner from a safe distance, she made a mental note to interrogate you about it later. For now, she passed the cruiser as it turned into an abandoned factory parking lot, pulling up down the street to stay out of sight. This was the stupidest thing she'd ever done. Seriously. Apart from marrying Dave, that was. She'd never been a Nancy Drew fan, wasn't about mysteries and sleuthing and stalking people for clues that probably didn't exist because there was nothing wrong.

"Whaaat~ the hell am I doing?"

Except her gut insisted there was something wrong.

Her intuition had crashed back in like a tidal wave after getting twenty-four hours out from under the tea's tranquilizing influence. She had brain fog for days, but was alert enough to crouch and dash across the barren stretch of unkempt tar after Austin, wearing Andrew's Black Sabbath sweater and a pair of black leggings. Seriously, what was she doing? She questioned herself again as she ducked and peeked around the corner of the building.

The building was dark inside and out, illuminated only by haphazardly installed emergency lighting, yet Austin didn't seem deterred. He disappeared through a side door that Aurora opened a crack and slipped through after counting to ten. Hoped that was enough time for Austin to put distance between himself and the door so Aurora would remain undetected.

As soon as she was inside, she felt it. Felt them. The cold air that displaced and resettled as bodies she couldn't see moved about. That icy chill and sense of desolation that clung to earthbound ghosts no matter their temperament. Only the emotion that lingered was more potent. Denser, somehow. The way she remembered it being whenever she felt Janet Hamilton or Rhonda Rosen back in high school. Established.

And, fuck, there were so much of it.

She heard footsteps echo further down the corridor and, as silently as she could, she followed the sound into a large, open space filled with machines that had been used to produce ammunition during the Second World War. There'd been another factory where Split River High now stood, thank you 8th Grade History, but it'd been reduced to brick and ash in 1952 after an explosion.

The factory she currently stood in had been shut down around the same time despite America's fascination with guns. It'd been cheaper to move production away from Split River, leaving the town's economy to steadily deteriorate over time. The one functioning factory that remained was owned by Molson Coors Beverage Company and even then, there'd been talk about relocating to another town closer to Milwaukee.

None of that explained why she felt about to two dozen ghosts haunting the space. Had they died homeless, escaping the winter? Frozen to death one night or one at a time? Perhaps that's why Austin was there, to do a walk-through and ensure there weren't any unwanted squatters. Or perhaps there'd been a sighting of Dave in the area.

No, her gut told her, that wasn't right. It astonished her how vibrant her empathy was after it'd been diluted for years. Weakened by that fucking tea she couldn't remember the reason behind. She hadn't been that stressed in New York. Certainly not to the level she'd needed sedatives to function. So, why the hell had she depended on it like oxygen for years!?

She peered around a machine and watched Austin trail down an aisle between conveyors, his head swiveling from side to side as if he was looking for something. Or at something, Aurora's mind quipped since, in the silence of the large space, his whispers were loud enough for her to hear. He was counting.

"...Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen..."

What the hell?

She wanted to slink further down the same aisle, however, in that moment, she heard Austin's footsteps double back.

Aurora made herself scarce, raced back to her car as quickly and quietly as she could. Slid behind the wheel and dropped her seat back until the cruiser had driven by. Readjusting her seat, Aurora decided, fuck it, she was already playing P.I., why not keeping going.

"What could possibly go wrong?" She murmured incredulously to herself, giving the factory one last glance before she started her car and drove after Austin.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

After long seconds staring at the photograph of the class of '60, you breathed deeply and said, "There's a ledger. Only Ginny has access to it, but if I can find it, I can compare the names from the yearbook to the names under our Circle."

"What for?" Ajay asked as he folded his arms and leaned his shoulder against the wall, peered at you through an expression that conveyed how nervous he was to let you out of his sight now that things were coming to light.

You pulled your gaze from the photograph to look at him, "Anyone with connectedness is registered with a Circle. Even if you actively try to avoid it, your name will show up in the relevant ledger, complete with the bloodline and I swear to God, if you call it magic, Ajay—" You warned when his face did that thing that suggested he was about to call you out on it again.

He pressed his lips together and locked them with an invisible key.

Wally tightened his embrace around you, stating, "So, you think it was Anabelle and Amelia."

"Wouldn't more students have had to die if they did the ritual?" Charley asked, "There was only Janet and Mr. Martin. Plus the two students they stole the bodies from. That's four. And they didn't even use Janet and Mr. Martin." He glanced between everyone, trying to gauge whether anyone else was as lost as he was.

"Wouldn't have mattered if they'd had other ghosts." You murmured, deep in thought, before you took a grounding breath. "We also know that the symbols siphon in the energy from elsewhere. The farmhouse, for sure, but there must be other places."

God, you needed Ginny to wake up. Of everyone, Ginny would know if there'd been a cluster of ghosts in any particular place around town, including the school. While you weren't familiar with her and Nanna's upbringing, you could assume that they'd had to follow the same rules you did. That included vigilance and awareness of what ghosts residually haunted where.

In a low, wary voice, "Does anybody else feel like this town should be a lot less populated than it is?" Charley uttered, taking a step back to rest against the desk that held the microfilm reader.

Rather than answer his question with a resounding yes, "When we get you guys unstuck, we should all move. Just. Leave and never look back," you suggested, closing the yearbook and placing it back on top of the stack. "Everyone's leaving the state for college anyway."

"Ooo, we should go to the beach first." Charley smiled at Wally.

Wally shook his head, "Nah, first thing I'm doing is taking this beautiful thing—" Hand under your chin, he tilted your head back a fraction to kiss you quick and hard, "—somewhere with a massive bed. And room service."

You giggled and blushed at the same time Ajay snorted, "You're dead, bro, you can't get room service."

"Yeah, but she can," Wally grinned as he swept your hair back and stamped kisses across your brow. "You guys could use the spa or use another suite or something. Then we'll take a trip to the beach."

"I want somewhere walkable." Ajay outlined, clearly fantasizing about it. "I want to walk for hours in one direction without being knocked back to Autoshop. Then Mina and I can find our own accommodations." He smirked at Wally. "But, honestly, I just want to touch a fucking tree. Be somewhere that doesn't smell like mildew and bleach."

"Yesss." Wally and Charley agreed in unison.

As fun as it was to imagine, "Alright, boys, focus," you said, though you were smiling, "We need to find Amelia first and get her to remove the barrier before we start planning roadtrips."

"You saying there isn't something you've imagined yourself doing with your very own hottie ghost once you spring him from school property?" Ajay smirked.

You scoffed, "Oh, absolutely. I'm with Wally. I want a bed and room service and we're only leaving when he's made sure I can't walk straight."

Both Charley and Ajay cringed, unhappy at how easily you'd painted that picture for them. Wally, on the other hand, radiated joy as he turned you by your hips and lifted you under the thighs. Kissed the tip of your nose as he held you, his dark eyes sparkling.

"That's my girl," He beamed, but before he could add anything else, Ajay intervened, complaining in run-on sentences:

"Alright, yep, we get it, you guys love each other, it's gross and we hate it. Can we please investigate the fallout shelter before Charley and I throw up?"

"Or gouge our eyes out," Charley muttered as he grabbed his jacket and followed Ajay into the hall to wait for you and Wally. "Or our eardrums. Or both."

"Gory," You snickered.

Ajay deadpanned, "Necessary."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but acquiesced, taking Wally's hand in yours as had become the habit. You glanced between the boys and wondered aloud, "Should we get Rhonda? She's part of Team Parabnormal. She might wanna help."

It was Charley who answered with glum disposition, "She wasn't interested when I asked her earlier," his shoulders raised and eyes on the ground. He didn't say anything more, but you could tell he wanted to.

"She's been kissing Mr. Martin's ass lately," Wally explained what Charley must've been thinking, because Charley's head shot up and he nodded at you enthusiastically.

It seemed everyone was in agreement, Ajay in particular.

"I've been watching them. It's like a cult leader and his first student." He shuddered, "I'm getting real Marshall Applewhite vibes. Minus the potential for a suicide pact."

"Unless Mr. M is planning to obliterate us like Amelia wants to. In which case, total potential for a suicide pact." Wally's hand tightened around yours, his jaw set and eyes hard. "Maybe he's working with her. Amelia's inside man."

"Shit, bro," Ajay's eyebrows shot up, "Say you don't trust him without saying you don't trust him."

Wally didn't skip a beat, "I don't fucking trust him. Not anymore. Not after how he grilled Maddie about talking to the living." He looked at you, his eyes softening, "He looked right at you when you were doing that Mock Trial thing. I didn't like it," He returned his gaze to Ajay, "Something about it sets my teeth on edge, man."

"Someone's coming," Charley announced, and before you could react, Wally pulled you into his arms and hid you and himself behind end of a row of lockers, winking at Ajay and Charley as they continued down the hall to steer the person in another direction.

As you waited for the all-clear, you peeked up at Wally, felt it was time to admit, "So... I actually found the fallout shelter the night Dave was sneaking around."

Wally gaped, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Honestly? I forgot. I was a lot more freaked out about telling you that Zav kissed me." And then, at the expression on Wally's face, "Don't look at me like that, Maddie was there, too. And Simon."

"Does Zav know?" Wally asked, lip curled in displeasure.

You pulled back slightly, brows knitted, "No. Why?"

"No reason."

But Wally appeared marginally less upset than he'd been seconds ago. Because of course he did. It was no secret how he felt about Xavier. That Wally despised someone you considered your platonic soulmate. A sentiment made worse after Xavier's rash decision to kiss you.

Wally flinched whenever Xavier's name was so much as hinted at, never mind mentioned and it fucking s u c k e d. These were two people you loved to your marrow; you wanted them to get along, had hoped that they'd eventually see eye-to-eye, but it didn't look like that was ever going to happen.

Xavier wasn't terrible; at least tried—with gritted teeth—to remain neutral where Wally was concerned. Wally, on the other hand, stubbornly refused to give Xavier the same respect.

Annoyed, "It's not a competition, you know," you muttered. You didn't pull away, couldn't, not from Wally, but this weird dick measuring contest had to stop.

"I know," Wally said as he gave you a funny look, as if his grip on you hadn't secured like Xavier had appeared to snatch you away.

"You sure about that? Because it feels like you're lying to me."

"Or," Wally countered, "Maybe I just forgot to mention it. Like you forgot to mention the fallout shelter."

And that time, you did pull away, wrenched right out of his arms. As you opened your mouth with a comeback, Ajay returned, cautious. He'd obviously heard what Wally had insinuated since he clarified that he, too, had known about the fallout shelter and hadn't disclosed it to anyone. For years.

"Buddy, calm down." He put a hand on Wally's shoulder, "It wasn't some big secret. If I'd known it was important, I would've brought it up sooner. How was anyone supposed to know?"

"Does it matter?" Wally soured. "You said that's where Mr. Martin hides out. Therefore it became important the second we suspected something was off with the guy." He took a breath, two, turned his head for a moment to get himself together before sighing and catching your gaze with his own again. Taking a step forward, he held out his hand, a somewhat pleading expression on his face, "Let's just go see what's there. We can talk about everything else after."

You wanted to protest. To ignore his hand, give him the cold shoulder and stomp by him just to make him regret pissing you off.

You couldn't bring yourself to do it. After a moment of letting him believe you'd refuse, you took his proffered hand. Allowed him to reel you in and tuck you into his side. He kissed your head, whispered an apology that sounded like a band-aid, and guided you down the hall to the stairwell with a hand on your hip.

"Trouble in paradise?" You heard Charley whisper to Ajay who responded with an equally as quiet, "The tea is hot..."

"What does that even mean?" Wally grumbled and squished you closer to him.

You couldn't contain it, you snorted, "I'm still mad at you, but...you're cute when you're clueless."

Wally scoffed, kissed his teeth, panned around so you wouldn't see the glimpse of affection in his eyes, but you caught it anyway. After a beat, he repeated:

"No, seriously, what does that mean? Are you talking about Aurora's tea or what?"

And you laughed along with Charley and Ajay, the latter of who patted Wally's shoulder and said, "You were getting so good at Gen Z slang, what happened?"

"A magical murder mystery!" Wally defended himself as he pouted adorably. "Why won't anyone tell me what it means?" And then, "Is it dirty?"

Traipsing ahead, "Nobody tell him," Charley commanded with a cheeky smirk, opened and held the door for you, Wally, and Ajay. "I want to see what he comes up with."

"You guys are the worst." Wally grumbled bitterly, "I'm totally not saving your asses when Amelia vanquishes your souls for her stupid ritual." Except he once again sealed you to his side, stamped a kiss to your temple and stage-whispered, "Not you, baby. I have a different punishment in mind for you."

He pinched your ass cheek so hard you squealed.

Together, "TMI!" and "Face!" Charley and Ajay scolded.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier hadn't intended to enter 4916 Quebec Street. It was meant to be a simple, relatively safe stakeout, just as he'd promised you. But Nicole and Claire's bickering had driven Xavier to the edge. From the moment they'd crammed into his truck, it'd been nonstop. Catty jabs that hadn't quit until Xavier lost his shit, made an impassioned speech that he was, yeah, a little proud of, and abandoned the girls for the peaceful refuge of a so very creepy house.

He was going to regret his decision, he just knew it.

Claire remained in the truck while Nicole boldly trailed behind him into the darkened house, muttering under her breath about fair-weather friends who shouldn't help if all they wanted was a redemption arc.

"So what if she does?" Xavier asked, turning on his flashlight as Nicole did hers.

"She can't make up for everything she didn't do for years." Nicole insisted, paused halfway through the front door. "Claire abandoned Maddie. And now she thinks she can swoop in and save the day? I don't trust her."

Xavier see-sawed his head, "But...you trust me?"

He couldn't quite make out Nicole's face in the dark, yet Xavier could tell she was embarrassed. Maybe because he'd pointed out the hypocrisy, or maybe because she felt just as outside of the whole SimonandMaddie dynamic as Xavier always had and was desperate for someone to relate.

Either way, she surprised him by admitting, "Yeah. I do."

That. Felt really good to hear, actually. Xavier's chest swelled as he looked bashfully away. "Thanks."

They stepped further into the house, the wind whistling eerily through the cracks in the windows. This house was even creepier than the old farmhouse or the house on Lasher and 10th. There was an impression in the air that chilled Xavier to the bone. That same supernatural prickle he felt around the ghosts at school, only more persistent. He couldn't be sure, but it meant something.

Before he could announce that he had a really, really bad feeling about this, Nicole spoke.

"I just wanna state for the record, this is basically my worst nightmare come true."

Xavier briefly wondered if Nicole felt the same close, icy aura he did, but immediately brushed it aside to comfort her. Placed a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye.

"But I'm here," He said, "I got your back. Just look around and see if you can find anything." He continued at her lost expression, "Clothes, food. Stuff someone might have left if they were squatting here."

His leadership seemed to rouse her determination. They split up, Nicole doing a tour of the main floor while Xavier found the door to the basement. The chill thickened as he descended the stairs. God, he wished you were with him, but you'd told him in no uncertain terms that you intended to do research with Wally at the school.

Ugh. That guy.

Look, Xavier didn't hate Wally the way Wally seemed to hate him. He was honestly—really, truly—happy that you'd found your perfect person. Dead, sure, but Xavier could tell that you two had some kind of cosmic bond. A golden thread that tied you and Wally together. In fact, he could literally see it, not that he'd told you.

It was so new, in and out like bad reception; something he'd only noticed over the last couple of days. Different colors for different connections. He didn't know what they meant, or why, all of a sudden, he'd gone from simply seeing ghosts to being able to track who meant something to whom, but, hey, guess he was officially part of the family now, huh?

Yeah, he needed to talk to you about it. For sure.

And he would.

Just...not while a fucking semi-transparent hippie was standing in the middle of the empty basement, smiling at him like a long-lost friend. What freaked Xavier way the hell out wasn't so much the mysterious ghost staring at him. It was the thin, loose green thread that stretched from Xavier's heart to the ghost's, evaporating and coming together again and again like a tendril of smoke.

It clicked like common sense as soon as the ghost shifted forward.

"Holy shit, you're Dead Grandpa John." He wheezed, eyes the size of dinner plates.

"And you're my granddaughter's best friend." Dead Grandpa John—no, Xavier was not doing that—Grandpa John said. "The troublemaker. Always into mischief." He smiled wider, laughed as if he'd been there for every caper you and Xavier had pulled as kids. Jesus, he probably had been there, Xavier realized with a gulp.

"I didn't flood the bathroom, I swear, it was all her!" And he didn't know why he felt compelled to confess, but he did anyway, a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Grandpa John raised a bushy brow.

Xavier instantly caved, "Okay, so it was my idea, but she helped..." and he stared shamefully at the floor.

And Maddie and Simon had really thought he was a good liar? Wow.

"I'm not here to judge you," Grandpa John assured and shifted closer. Unlike the ghosts at school, Grandpa John glided like water over rocks in a stream, despite how his feet did, in fact, move. One and then the other. Heel-toe, heel-toe. A person walking normally. Just...not quite touching the ground.

While Wally and Ajay appeared solid, as real as you or Claire or Nicole, Grandpa John was exactly the kind of image Xavier would've pictured if someone had told him to close his eyes and imagine a ghost. Silvery. See-through. Other. Unconsciously, Xavier took a step back, although part of him—a big part—already trusted Grandpa John as if he'd been aware of Grandpa John's existence the whole duration of his friendship with you.

"She was looking for you the other day," Xavier found himself saying, dropping the glare of his flashlight to the ground. "Have you been here the whole time?"

Grandpa John shook his head, "No." Then a strange look came over his face, "I'm here to apologize to you for what has to be done."

Xavier blinked in confusion, "What's that mean?"

"It means, this is going to hurt."

The next thing Xavier was conscious of, he was flat on his back. The ground was cold and everything hurt, his head especially throbbed. He heard the screech of tires against pavement, Nicole and Claire shouting, the noise distant as the world slowly faded to black.

💀___________________________

PART NINE - PART ELEVEN

note: not exactly where i'd planned to end this chapter, but it felt right 🤷‍♀️ who am i to argue with the characters? anyway, because of this, the next part is basically halfway written 🙌 hopefully i'll be able to deliver it a lot sooner, but no promises beautiful frens 😭

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: we're not about that life around here (•¯ ∀ ¯•) things got too outta hand and i'm still cleaning up the mess left behind by the demons i accidentally summoned trying to get the damn thing to work 🕳️👹......there's a dustpan over there if you feel like helping 🧹💨 or, if you just wanna stay up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS

IM NOT WRITING SO MUCH TO COPE WITH THE FACT THAT SEASON 2 IS OVER *I scream as they drag me back to my padded room* okay on a real note I think I need help. I'm done with midterms, I'm off work for the next 2 days, no more school spirits and I just don't know what to do. Am I expected to be a normal average member of society and hang out with my friends? I can't rant to them about my pain because they're normal about things. They don't get obsessed to the point that they write till their fingers are numb. Okay I think I got it all out there, anyways imma go back to pretending that I'm not mentally ill 😊

⚠️ School Spirits season finale spoilers ⚠️

Okay so like what the fuck? How they just gonna leave us on that not???

I don't think Simon got his body snatched... At least I hope not. Maybe he just like found a cheat code or sum (I'm grasping at straws here.) It doesn't make much sense regardless like how the fuck he get in there? The other ghosts had to get through all the scars just to get to Mr.Martins so how did Simon just magically pop in there?

Also Wally, I don't know how to feel. I really want him to have his happy ending and move on knowing he's loved but also I feel like he didn't go through the door. This is me mainly wanting to see more of him in season 3. If it drops and he's nowhere to be found imma actually die.

Can we talk about how he punched Mr.Manphrado though. Like damn daddy (kill me) And the way he turned to Rhonda and asked if she's okay 😩 Such a sweetie.

Mr.Andersons speech made me cry. He cares so much about being a teacher and I know it's not my sweet boy Simons fault but like- come on man they need to give that man his job back. Justice for Mr.Anderson 😤

Xavier??? He can see Maddies dad which means there's a huge chance Maddies gonna be able to see all the ghosts when she goes back to school. Also why the fuck are we just finding out Xavier can still see ghosts? He couldn't when he woke up the next day in the hospital so why now? This is some freaky shit.

The way i just wanted to body slam Maddie back into her body (with love) is actually killing me. Like girl if you dont- I get it she didn't want to leave her friends but seeing Simone panick cus Maddie's body was cold actually broke my heart.

Wally silently crying in the back while Maddie said goodbye to Rhonda and Charley is actually the most deviating thing I've ever seen. We didn't even get a kiss or an I love you, like just one hug and that was it??? Not good enough.

I've said this from the beginning, I've never been a big Maddie and Wally shipper but that was mostly because there wasn't enough tension between them in the first season now I understand the hype. I do wish there was more of a buildup starting in season 1 because it just felt one sided for a while but now it look like Maddie really likes him. (I'm still team Maddie and Simon for life)

I just can't cope knowing we're probably gonna have to wait another 2 years for a new season 😔 I feel empty, like actually. This is the supernatural finale all over again... Okay maybe not as bad cus at some point we're gonna get more but still I'm hurt.

October Moon

summary: information had finally started to come to light. things had been falling into place, for better or worse. you and Wally had had to keep keep going, no matter the cost, but at least you and he had had each other to lean on when you'd realized that not everything had been as it'd seemed.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.9

"She was such a quiet girl, you know..." Nanna said softly, holding Ginny's hand as she spoke. Her eyes were distant as she fell into the past, reliving memories of their childhood. Ginny was much older than Nanna. Nanna had been a surprise after their mother, your great-grandmother, had been told she wouldn't have been able to create—never mind carry—another baby. Nanna was the youngest of five; Albert, Violet-Anne, Arvin, Virginia-Amrose, and then surprise baby Abigail.

Your family didn't see much of Nanna and Ginny's siblings. There wasn't a specific reason for it that you knew of, just a lot of distance in between that had deterred your less familiar great-aunt and her brothers from reaching out. After the death of their parents to a house fire, the elder siblings had moved on from Split River and that had been that. They were probably dead—definitely Albert who'd had to have been well into triple digits if he was still alive.

"What changed?" You finally asked, gazing at Ginny as she slept, oxygen tube down her throat. That was the worst you'd ever seen her. Your eyes pricked and your stomach clenched, and you so badly yearned for her to wake up. To hug you, pet your hair, tell you that you were being ridiculous worrying over her.

Nanna chuckled, her thumb stroking the back of Ginny's hand, "The reason her lungs are so weak." She said, quiet, tired, "The fire."

"The fire made her more—" Blunt, dramatic, stubborn, batshit insane with a warm heart and a warmer smile. You settled for, "Loud?"

"It scared her. You come face to face with death like that, sweetpea, and it changes you. Either for good or for bad." Nanna cast you an amused smile, "I like to believe that's why you and Aiden were so mischievous. Obnoxious little munchkins, the both of you."

"What do you mean?" You asked around the lump in your throat, pictured Aiden at that farmhouse as he clutched Limon and ate stew made by the specter of a stranger.

Nanna gave you a surprised look, one that indicated you should've known what she meant. She told you anyway, "Aurora was an easy birth. Out in minutes. Pink and squalling like a banshee." She chuckled, shaking her head with a fond smile. "But you...you were impatient. Wanted to be in the world as soon as possible." She paused, patted your knee, "You came early. Such a small thing." Nanna's smile fell, "You weren't breathing. But," Her smile returned, "They saved you. You recovered quickly and I have a feeling my wily sister had something to do with it..." Nanna gave Ginny a playful look of bemusement, "You didn't have to suffer years of treatments like most unlucky infants."

Amelia's words rung in your head like the knell of a church bell: Death ushered them into the world and left a piece of himself within them. So...you'd been delivered with Death at your heels. Amelia had mentioned that that was how you could interact with the metaphysical world and those who inhabited it. Holy shit.

"And Aiden?"

Nanna sighed, "Poor little bug." She made the sign of the cross, something she only ever did when Aiden was mentioned. "I always wondered if he knew..." She shook her head as if to dispel the very thought and diverted, "He was blue as a violet. The cord had...had wrapped itself around his neck. He was dead for almost a minute before they revived him..." Nanna's eyes glistened. She gazed over her sister again, lips pinched in despair.

Death had had its arms open for Aiden since the day he was born, you mourned. You weren't surprised that Nanna thought it possible that Aiden knew, somehow, someway, that he wasn't destined for a long life. If anyone in the house would've known, it would've been her. She'd examined his palms the same as she'd done everyone else's...

"Did you know?" You had to ask, uncomfortable that you hadn't remembered until now exactly what your grandmother's connectedness was capable of. "That he wouldn't live long?"

Her face was grim as the reaper, eyes haunted, "I hoped against it. Reading the Awen isn't precise, sweetpea. And I prayed, in that instance, I was wrong."

But she hadn't been. You almost wanted to confess to her about Aiden and the farmhouse and the other ghosts. You didn't, of course, but you suddenly realized how ill-equipped you were to face everything alone. The responsibility of stopping Amelia, and retrieving Maddie's body, and freeing the ghosts. Freeing Wally. It was a vise that strangled your heart without remorse.

Nanna brought the conversation back to Ginny, faraway eyes and compassionate smile, "That fire might've weakened her body, but it strengthened her spirit." She ended wistfully, "Few realize that Death is also capable of giving gifts. It can be kind as it can be cruel."

It moved you, how much Nanna cared for Ginny. As much as they bickered, Nanna and Ginny were close. Two peas in a pod. Ginny had taken care of Nanna after their parents had died; she'd assumed the role of mother and father and sister in one fell swoop since none of their older siblings would do it.

They sounded like a selfish bunch and—as you stared at Ginny's ashen face—you thought fuck them for not being there. Fuck them for allowing the distance to matter. Fuck them for ignoring or avoiding or pretending your family didn't exist because they'd rather have let everything fall apart at a time they should've come together.

Minutes later, Nanna excused herself to fetch a cup of coffee from the hospital cafeteria, leaving with a kiss on your head and a squeeze of your shoulder. You took her place in the chair beside Ginny, held her hand in yours, and tried to tamp down the slurry of emotions that rose within you.

After a long moment of silence, you choked, "Everything's fucked up." A plea to someone who couldn't hear you. She couldn't travel, you imagined because her body and mind were too weak, but you desperately needed her right now. Or you needed to finally unload the burden of truth on someone you could trust because it had become too much. "There weren't stupid storms or squalls or whatever you and mom said there would be. But it feels worse. Like everything is out of control—"

A thick sniffle, a hiccup, "Maddie's a ghost and her body is missing. I think there's someone out there who wants to use the ghosts...use...shit, use Wally...to glue them in it," A thought you hadn't shared out loud until now because it scared you more than you wanted it to. Your voice broke when you continued, "I--I don't know what to do... I-I don't even know where to look. Or how to look. I need help, Ginny. Xavier and Simon are great and they want to help, they do, but they don't know this stuff and now I'm expected to be a walking encyclopedia and—" A self-deprecating snort, "Fuck. I barely know anything..."

The heart monitor beeped a steady rhythm. The ventilator whirred. Ginny remained a gaunt statue in repose.

You leaned over and pressed your forehead to the back of her hand, hot tears falling onto her cold skin, "Please wake up..."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon ran his thumb over the pendant, his other hand in Maddie's as she urged him to lure her mother to the school. Get her here, he heard Maddie plead, I always know when she's lying. But Simon's mind was elsewhere, his eyes flicking over the pendant's design, teeth clenched as he berated himself. He should've asked more questions when he'd—God dammit, the answers might've been right fucking there and he'd been too busy monitoring his pleases and thank yous.

He couldn't believe he hadn't recognized the pendant the night of the dance, strung around someone else's neck. One of a pair, your great-aunt had told him. Maddie had worn the necklace every day since he'd known her. A gift from her father she rarely, if ever, removed.

Without acknowledging Maddie's insistence to get Sandra in a room with her, Simon asked, "You said your dad gave this to you?"

Maddie's teeth clicked when she abruptly closed her mouth, visibly stunned that Simon would ask that now. A brief moment of contemplation and then, "Yeah. Right before he died."

"And you're sure about that?" Simon's eyes never left the pendant, but his grip on Maddie's hand tightened marginally, a gesture expressing that it was important, that he needed her to be precise.

"Yeah." One beat. Two. "I mean, not really. I got it in the mail. Mom said he sent it when he was still in Texas and that it had taken longer to get there than he did. He was back for a couple of weeks before..." Maddie trailed off. Simon could fill in the blanks. Christopher had been home for a couple of weeks before he'd killed himself while wearing your body like a meat puppet.

"In the mail?" Simon prompted as he released her hand to cup her jaw, gaze boring into hers. "And you're sure your dad was the one who sent it?"

Maddie swallowed. "Yeah. It was definitely him."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Simon, I'm sure." Prickly, fierce. "My dad sent it. I know he sent it."

Simon pulled her closer to press their brows together, soothing her, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, Mads, I just want to make sure that we have all the facts."

"Why?" Maddie asked and leaned back to examine him because he wasn't making sense.

Simon hesitated for a moment, unsure how to put into words the weird coincidence he was beginning to think wasn't a coincidence at all. "When I went to pick her up for the Homecoming dance... Maddie, her great-aunt had exactly the same pendant. Ginny said that it was one of a pair, earrings or something, but she lost the other one a while ago."

Maddie frowned and then her face went slack in shock, "You think her great-aunt might've been the one to give it to me?"

Simon shook his head, frustrated, confused, steadily more defeated as he realized he was so far out of his depth that he couldn't hold his head above water anymore, "I don't know." He slumped, rubbed his eyes, and gave Maddie a look of apology. "But we have to find out. Someone has to know."

"Si, I know my dad gave me that necklace. I can't explain it, it's just a—"

"Feeling?" Simon finished for her, weak smile curving his lips. "Yeah. I believe you, Maddie," He assured her, grasping both her hands in his as he bowed toward her to give her a soft, sweet kiss. "I'm not saying he didn't. But if it's the missing earring, maybe she gave it to him or maybe he took it. For a reason."

"What...what reason?" Maddie asked hesitantly, bits and pieces of information scattered in her mind like shattered glass.

"Ginny's in the hospital. And your dad's..." Dead, he refused to say, already guilty that he'd had to bring this up in the first place. "Your mom might know something. Like you said, you can tell when she's lying."

"Get her here." Maddie reiterated. "And we can figure out if—if my mom..."

Cutting her off, "Okay," Simon put the necklace back in the manila envelope, folded it, and shoved it in his back pocket before promising, "Okay, I'll figure something out."

Maddie sat silently for a long moment, gazing into the middle distance, so worn and small that Simon nearly choked on his heart looking at her. Sandra might not have been the best mom, but she was Maddie's and Maddie loved her. Simon couldn't imagine Sandra hurting Maddie, and yet... People turned into strangers when their souls were broken and they had enough booze in their veins to breathe fire.

He had no clue how the pieces fit together. If Sandra had the answers to all the questions Simon and Maddie had. Why Maddie was a ghost. Why Maddie's dad had gifted her a necklace with a pendant on it that belonged to your family. The two things were connected, Simon was sure, but he didn't know how.

As he stood, Maddie stopped him with a light touch to his hip, "Simon?" She rose to her feet and shuffled into his space, looped her arms around his neck and held him, "Yesterday, what you said about whether or not us figuring it out means me moving on—"

"Don't worry about that right now," Simon murmured into her hair. It was jarring, how she didn't smell like anything. Just clean air. He stammered, "I was being selfish."

Maddie tilted back a fraction and said firmly, "You're never selfish," which made Simon's heart skip a beat and break in a single moment.

"Maddie...if it was her," He started, nervous to voice his concern, his fear, though he had to understand, "Are you sure you wanna know?"

She didn't answer. Simply tucked her head into the crook of his neck and held him close.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

The inevitable was already underway. There was nothing Mr. Martin could do about it, no way to postpone it or change the outcome. He couldn't sabotage Amelia's plan, it was impossible given her influence; a worm in his brain slithering between the ridges and festering his conscience. It was a failsafe, she'd explained. She'd been betrayed in the past and Mr. Martin had understood, had allowed her to cast her spell and shape him into whatever she needed him to be.

Still, the fact that the night was finally upon them, after decades of waiting, made him wonder if he'd been mistaken to have trusted her word.

If Janet had been right... No. Janet was wrong. Wrong. She was clever, sure—the ideal candidate to complete their circle—yet callow in more ways than was suited to what Amelia had required of her character. Rhonda was a decent if rough substitute. Too new. Too neglected. Mr. Martin wasn't allowed to divulge more than necessary to her, and that seemed to be the wrong approach since now Rhonda was just as riled up as the rest of them when he needed her to focus.

Dawn's ascension had happened while he'd been in the fallout shelter, thus he hadn't succumbed to it to the same degree his students had. Nevertheless, he'd felt it. Felt that peace. That warmth. That omniscient truth that he'd never felt before because crossing over was supposed to be impossible inside the barrier. In that one moment, everything he'd done to help Amelia seemed cursed. Which included his poor luck in inspiring Rhonda's full submission.

It didn't matter now, did it? That slimy part of his mind tried to justify in a voice that wasn't his. The gears had begun to turn, the machine already in motion. No one would be hurt. Not more than they'd already been, at least, and it was far too late to regret what he and Janet had done to bring everyone together. Moving forward was the only option and after all was said and done, he'd pay his penance.

Wally and Charley and Rhonda spoke over each other, a cacophony of questions with no answers. None that he was at liberty to give. He plucked a thread from his blazer, hands shaking because of what it signified that his clothes were deteriorating instead of resetting as they'd done since 1958.

"—the light at the same time as the goosebumps. Simultaneous goosebumps." Wally ranted between Charley's retelling of what they'd experienced. Mr. Martin's collar suddenly felt too tight.

Bernie and Katelynn agreed and confirmed and Mr. Martin wanted the ground to open and swallow him whole. He had to keep them in line. Just a few more hours. A few more hours and it would be over and he'd be free... The noise of their curiosity caused his mouth to dry, heartbeat too quicken, palms to get clammy. He had to have faith, but it was dwindling with every second he listened to his sentient students describe Dawn's ascension from their points of view.

Their eyes were on him, pinning him in place as he fidgeted. He strung together the right words in the wrong context, anything to supplicate them, but they continued to press like walls closing in. And then Mina's face, sad and scared, seared behind his eyes and he couldn't manage the pressure.

"After all these years, how can you still be so clueless?" Charley demanded and Mr. Martin absorbed it like he'd absorbed Amelia's outrage when Janet had vandalized a plan that had been decades in the making.

It had been such a struggle to attain the right pieces and set them on the board. Amelia had been righteous in her anger. A glorious, beautiful blaze of fury that had left Mr. Martin wounded and weak. All because of Janet who'd argued his ear off for weeks. Who'd rearranged the board under his nose in order to steal what didn't belong to her.

"What if looking back isn't a bad thing?" Charley hounded, "What if it's actually the key to get out of here!? Why shouldn't we at least try that?"

They weren't allowed. They weren't allowed to look back. Unlike treacherous Janet, Mr. Martin had obeyed the rule. He'd crafted so many lies, so many perfect explanations that Amelia had praised, yet, now, she didn't trust him fully despite his fealty. What would it take for her to forgive him!? WHAT WOULD IT TAKE!?

"Because it's painful to constantly be thinking about it!" Hearing his own words, Mr. Martin knew he would forever remain her devoted servant. In sickness and health, not even death could do them part. "Right!?"

There were still two pawns on the board. Two vessels. One for him. One for her. Let Janet die a second time in Maddie's body. By morning, Maddie's ghost wouldn't exist anymore to need it.

Just a few more hours, he told himself, and it would be over.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally kissed you like it was the last time. Slow, deep, explorative; memorizing every shape and taste of your mouth as he held you by the hips in his lap.

The school was empty aside from the teachers involved in the awards ceremony. Ajay had snuck you in before accompanying Maddie to the teacher's lounge for a coffee and a heart-to-heart. Wally had found her in the hallway after Group and she'd been in bad shape. He was grateful that Ajay had stepped in to be there for her while she waited for Simon to arrive with her mom so that Wally could soak in your presence privately.

You'd informed Maddie that Simon had had Nicole reach out to Sandra and ask if she wanted to accept the Fall English Award on Maddie's behalf. Sandra had apparently been reluctant, yet she'd agreed in the end. Initially, they'd wanted to uncover if Sandra knew about the origins of Maddie's necklace. The same necklace your great-aunt wore to repel ghosts that might try to snatch her body.

After you'd explained, "It was me," Maddie decided they'd change direction and would question whether or not Sandra had been involved in disappearing Maddie's body sans her ghost.

Wally couldn't believe he hadn't remembered immediately when Maddie had mentioned her necklace. He'd seen it. Not the necklace itself, but the moment Christopher had asked you to take it from his body's pocket and deliver it to Maddie on his behalf.

"Amelia must've stolen it like she stole Limon," You murmured, head tilted back against the wall, staring beyond the ceiling at your mental conspiracy board. The red yarn that connected one thing to another. "She used it so Christopher couldn't steal his body back...which is why—"

"He had to use yours to stop Amelia..." Maddie finished, glum and bereaved. "So, why give it to me?"

You rolled your head to the side and stared at her a moment before, "To protect you." When Maddie gave the impression she didn't understand how it would've done any such thing, you elaborated, "He probably didn't want the same thing to happen to you that happened to him." A long, pregnant beat. "He didn't want you to be used."

"I knew it was from him," Maddie stated as she curled over her knees. "There was a note. I remember now."

You held your hands up and wiggled your fingers to connote your ability to transfer things from the metaphysical world to the living world. "I don't remember getting it to you, though. I don't remember much after seeing Aiden..." A shaky breath and then nothing.

"Wally?" You asked, likely having noticed his mind had wandered. "You okay?"

Wally's grip tightened on your hips, then smoothed down to your thighs, back up under your skirt to drag you closer by the ass. He gave you a weary smile, about as much as he could muster. Between Mr. Martin's behavior in Group and Maddie's comment—"What would you do if the one person who was supposed to protect you was the one who hurt you?"—unleashing a repressed sense of betrayal toward his mama, Wally's strength of will had rapidly declined. He didn't think he could do this anymore.

Call him selfish, but he missed the simpler times. The times before Maddie and the mystery and the cloak and dagger he and the others were forced to come to grips with. There was peace in ignorance and he wanted to find it again, just for a second, just to regroup and start fresh and—

"Hey," Your hands on his jaw, angling his face toward yours, "You still with me, big guy?"

"Sorry baby," Wally said, low and solemn, "Too many thoughts."

You nodded, "Yeah. Me too. I can't believe I never noticed Maddie's necklace. I see it every day, you'd think I would've put two and two together as soon as I met her, yanno?"

Not exactly where Wally's mind was, but that was odd.

"You said you and Maddie weren't that close before now," Wally tried to reason so you wouldn't drive yourself crazy thinking about it. "Who really pays attention to that kind of thing?"

You raised a brow, "I noticed Nicole had the same spider ring as Maddie as soon as she started wearing it."

"Okay. Fair. But that spider ring didn't ward off evil spirits, right? Maybe it's a magic necklace thing." And then he put on an all-powerful, godly voice, "All who look upon this necklace shall forget its importance lest they be cursed!"

You giggled, a sound as beautiful as a summer breeze, and beamed at him. Jesus, he could live without food and water and anything else so long as he saw that smile every day for the rest of his existence. He lifted one hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, dipped in to brush his lips against yours, a smile of his own forming.

"Very impressive use of the word 'lest'," You teased, "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Hey, I was practically a straight A student, thanks."

"What I'm hearing is that you bullied nerds into giving you test answers."

Wally scoffed, "I didn't bully anyone! I used my popularity to charm certain academically gifted individuals into helping me along. It was give-give, baby, I swear." He grinned, both hands back on your ass, massaging your flesh.

"You may be onto something though, Wally." You said after a moment, "I wouldn't be surprised if Amelia glamoured the necklace so that no one would recognize it." A cheeky grin, "Lest her whole plan go up in smoke before she could finish it." You raised your hands and made a poof gesture.

Wally drew you closer by the back of your head, his gaze flickering over your face as his eyes went heavy and heated, "Have I ever told you how sexy your brain is, baby?"

"Once or twice," You smirked and brushed your lips against his, "But you're welcome to remind me."

A slow, thorough kiss before Wally said, "You have a very," kiss "very," kiss as his large hand pushed your closer so you were planted flush against him, "sexy brain."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier was insubordinate on a good day, but the little nuisance had been more so in recent weeks. The Sheriff didn't like it. By then, Xavier didn't need to be cagey or deflective for the Sheriff to recognize when Xavier was hiding something. In fact, Xavier had been combative, had shown up of his own volition to once again challenge Mr. South's innocence. And hadn't that been the cherry on top of a taxing day...

It was hard enough keeping the deputies busy, their instincts firing on all cylinders, much to the Sheriff's chagrin. Which, fine, was why those people were hired—except Lou. Lou was impossible. A donut-munching waste of space with muttonchops to stand in for his backbone—but the Sheriff was at a pivotal point in tracking down and locating Madison Nears' runaway body and getting the plan back on the rails. He couldn't afford any more disruptions or screw-ups.

To think, they'd had weeks of wiggle room before that daft creature Amelia had coddled had run off in what was to be Anabelle's vessel. Weeks. The ritual wasn't to be performed until the winter solstice. Empty school. Parents of teenagers not entirely sure where they were at any given time because it was the holiday break and kids would be kids. Alas, Amelia had fucked up so royally in who she'd trusted that they didn't have a choice. It had to be tonight or they'd lose everything.

The Sheriff exited the evidence room, Xavier's energy lingering in the air after their confrontation. That had been a disaster just as everything else leading up to then had been. The Sheriff—Anabelle—had long since perfected how to handle that bucking bronco of a boy. had been raised by emotional distance and respect and he'd turned out beautifully. As had Amelia. Furthermore, it'd worked. He'd pried Xavier away from his values easily, had him right where he'd needed to be. Cutoff. Conflicted. Corrupted.

Only now, he seemed to have recovered. Quickly. Quicker than the Sheriff had ever seen anyone shed a hex. If there was time to hunt Xavier down and prise the truth from him, the Sheriff would, however, time was of the essence and Amelia had made fucking sure they didn't have enough of it to spare. To be so stupid as to let Janet Hamilton frame Amelia's most precious golem!?

May Dagda protect, because the Sheriff wasn't going to lose another precious rebirth due to things that could have, should have, been avoided.

He wanted very much to release Mr. South. His purpose was better served on the board. Unfortunately, the Sheriff couldn't afford anyone discovering the second set of prints on the crowbar. Pausing at reception, the Sheriff noted the address he'd scribbled down. Another possible lead. At his hip, out of sight of those milling about the station, he typed a text to Dave's phone. The address and a blunt reminder that Amelia had better not let her former shining star slip through her fingers again or Anabelle would snatch her precious vessel right from her spirit's embrace without remorse.

After all, daughters came and went, but youth was something worth holding on to.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

"Are you finding anything?"

"Dude, this thing was old when I went here," Wally told Charley from his place at the microfilm reader.

The file room was dark, claustrophobic, filled with a lot of information yet very few answers. So far, anyway. You sat at the single tiny table, flipping through transcripts from 1960 while, at your feet, back against your leg, Ajay perused the stack of yearbook printouts from around the same era.

"Dawn found something yesterday when she looked into her past." Charley said, determined, "I mean, Janet must've done the same. So...maybe if we look into their pasts, too, we could find something that could explain all of this."

Ajay sighed, "Don't we already know?" When Charley snapped a pointed side-eye at him, Ajay flapped a hand, "I get why we're doing this. What, against all odds, made Janet and then Dawn special enough to clock out of this hellscape. But do we really think it's going to be written on paper?"

"Or microfilm." Wally inserted, peeking out from behind the machine.

"I think Charley's onto something, actually." You said as you scanned another transcript from 1960: Maria Volkov. "Maybe there was something special about their pasts that allowed them to move on easier." You glanced up, eyes finding Wally's, "I mean, you've all looked back before, right?"

"More or less," Ajay said, flipping through another yearbook. "Yet, here we still are."

"What year are you on?" Charley asked Wally as he carded through the accordion folder containing Dawn's student files.

Wally responded, "1959. I'm trying to move backwards, but I am not seeing Janet's name anywhere." He glanced between you and Charley. "She died in 1960, right?"

"Yeah," Charley confirmed though he was distracted.

"That's what we have in our files, too." You added and then sat up straight to stretch out the kinks that had settled between your vertebrae. "Apparently she fell down the stairs and broke her neck?"

Wally cringed, "Sounds shitty." He looked at Charley again, "Did you know that? Because I didn't know that."

"I'm beginning to think we've been discouraged from asking each other personal questions about our deaths for a reason," Ajay muttered so only you could hear.

You didn't know what to say apart from, "Me too, buddy."

From his perch on the picture files cabinet, Charley rummaged through more of Dawn's files, engrossed though managing to reply to Wally, "No, I didn't..." He exhaled sharply through his nose and finally looked up, "Nothing of much interest in Dawn's student file, either..." Awkwardly, tinged with a thread of guilt, he admitted, "I know we weren't super close, but I feel kinda awful that we didn't get to say goodbye to her."

You listened as Wally answered, both you and Ajay forgoing your research to hear Wally say, "I don't want it to happen that way for me." He caught your eye, let his gaze hold yours softly, "I didn't get a goodbye last time..." You stood, shuffled around Ajay and went to Wally, settling in his lap when he shifted to welcome you. "I do not wanna just disappear..."

You nestled into his body, kissed his temple before pressing your brow against it.

"Me either." Charley said quietly.

Though it was obvious he felt the same, Ajay didn't say anything. Simply allowed Wally and Charley's grief to be heard and sat with it.

Wally turned his head, his lips pressed to your neck, his hand squeezing your hip before he tucked his face into your shoulder for a minute. You felt him breathe in and out deeply, absorbing your presence, your scent a balm for his soul, and then he returned to the slide he'd just inserted under the lens of the microfilm machine. Beneath you, he tensed.

"Whoa. Whoa, wait. This is weird." You peeked up at the screen, adjusted as Wally leaned in to read the small print. At Charley's prompting, Wally read, "Split River High School has been chosen for a national pilot program to protect students and teachers from the threat of a nuclear strike."

Oh. Shit. Had you not told Wally about the fallout shelter below the school?

"A fallout shelter will be built below the east wing of the school," No. No you had not. All you'd mentioned was that Dave had been skulking around the basement and you'd followed him. "The same location where a fire destroyed the former chemistry lab on January 14th, 1958." You were a terrible girlfr—wait.

"Wait...1958?" Charley voiced so you didn't have to. "That must be Mr. Martin's fire. Does it mention him?" Charley moved closer, half-sat on the side of the desk and watching Wally scan the rest of the old article.

"I don't see..."

You pointed to the screen where you saw Mr. Martin's name, "There."

"Oh, yes," His hand snuck under your shirt, thumb stroked your skin in thanks as he began to read again, "Authorities determined the fire was accidental. Four people were killed in the fire that overtook the lab during a routine chemistry lesson. Beloved Chemistry teacher Mr. Everett Martin was one of the deceased—"

"Wait." Charley interrupted, confused, "Four people? He said he was the only casualty."

Ajay was on his feet now, positioned himself behind Wally, a hand on Wally's shoulder as he curved forward and reread what Wally had already dictated. "Four people?"

Wally's attention returned to the screen to pick up where he left off, "Uh, two other staff, secretary Melinda Fontaine and school nurse Karla-Anne Mayfair, who had tried to help contain the fire while students evacuated were killed in the blaze as well as one student, sophomore..." He stopped, causing you, Ajay, and Charley to squint at the screen.

"What? What's wrong?" Charley asked.

Wally picked his gaze from the screen and skirted it to Charley, "Janet Hamilton." A moment of tense silence, and then Wally, pinning you closer to his body to quell his anger, wanted to know, "Why did they both lie to us?"

You stared at the name Wally had pointed to. It didn't make sense. Even in your family's files, Janet was cited as dying in 1960... Only... She hadn't had a death date until Ginny had remembered something and had Nanna write it down. You slipped out of Wally's lap and went to the stack of yearbooks Ajay had been scouring through to find the right one. Bingo. 1958.

You opened it, flipped through the pages until, "My great-aunt was in that class." That was the fire that'd weakened her. You'd assumed it'd been the same fire that had killed your great-grandparents, but no. There was Ginny's young face, smiling shyly from the page beside someone named Gladys Jones.

"What does that have to do with Janet and Mr. Martin?" Ajay wondered as he, Wally, and Charley crowded around you.

You scrutinized every other student's face for clues, because stealing bodies was the work of expert connectedness. And though they became new people in new bodies, their connectedness had always and would always remain. If you were right...

"There were only two ghosts." You uttered, and you felt Wally's hand on your hip, a steadying force, as he pressed himself against your back. "If the symbols were already around the school to trap Mr. Martin and Janet—"

Somber, Wally asked the question on everyone's mind, "Then where did the other two go?"

💀___________________________

PART EIGHT - PART TEN

note: dun dun duuuun. next part should be out more quickly. this one just kept testing me. thank you so much for your patience, my loves 💖 we're down to the wire now and just two (or three, maybe, idk yet) parts away from the finale 🙌

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: we're not about that life around here (•¯ ∀ ¯•) things got too outta hand and i'm still cleaning up the mess left behind by the demons i accidentally summoned trying to get the damn thing to work 🕳️👹......there's a dustpan over there if you feel like helping 🧹💨 or, if you just wanna stay up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS

Sex, Drugs, Etc.

pt.8

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. Possible smut in the future. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2022. Relapse. Huffing Bleach (Please don't do this). The 10,000 Mental Break Down. Hearing Voices. Giving up on Recovery. This is NOT meant to romanticize addiction or mental illness.

1.2k words

pt.7

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Deep, slow, squared breaths. A remedy you’d been taught to do over and over again. Forcing the air into your lungs so they wouldn’t have time to close up, bringing your mind back to the pool where you felt them explode. Inhaling the chemical scent that left an upset feeling in your stomach. It was suffocating but better than allowing the tightening to form, not allowing yourself to fall into that state of confusion, where nothing made sense and the world blurred. 1,2,3 more breaths. 

Head spinning….. Your head was spinning. This was different, it wasn’t from lack of air or the anguish in your body. It was from that deep sickening smell of cleaning supplies. Without thinking you grabbed the bleach, unscrewed the top, and brought the bottle to your nose. You took a deep inhale and let the smell fill your senses. It was brief but that feeling you’d been craving took over. A single moment of silence where it was just you and that bottle. 

Once the feeling passed you took another deep inhale. The few seconds where your mind went just slightly fuzzy made you feel like you were on top of the world. It wasn’t much but it was enough, then shame hit. “What the fuck am I doing?” It was quiet, whispered but held so much pain and guilt. 

This is probably the most pathetic site anyone could ever possibly see. You curled up with your knees to your chest, tear stained face and shaky hands as you put the bottle down. The image of Mags hearing the news of your death played on repeat in your brain. Face distorting in a way that made vial build in the back of your throat begging to escape. 

It’s all fucked, everything. She deserves to know what’s happening, that you didn’t mean to leave her behind. When's the last time you told her you love her? She has to know, she has to know that you love her no matter what. That even though you’re gone the memory of her in your mind isn’t. 

Perfectly cut images of her played in your mind like flipping through pages of a photo album. Her sweet smile and kick ass attitude that always gave you whiplash because she could go from 0-100 in less than a minute. Having her as your best friend was the best gift you’d ever been given and now it’s all over. Soon that friendship will die along with every memory of you.

You tried to wash the thought away. It bears too much pain but they don’t let you. Screams of how you’ll be nothing but what you became made your chest feel like it was being crushed. A ghost in life and death, that’s all you’ll ever be. 

You forced the tears to stop, face hurting and eyes swollen from how long you hid away in the closet, drawing in your own mess. With one last inhale of the strong chemical you stood up, not bothering to wipe away the water that stuck to your cheeks, knowing that by the time you open the door they’ll be gone like everything else behind the veil. You were right, one big loop. 

The strong fluorescent lights blinded you for a split second before your vision adjusted. Kids were leaving the school. Apparently it was already the end of the day. How long had you been in there? 

You started walking, now knowing where to, just needing to get away from the closet that holds the key to fulfilling your deepest darkest desires. You hated to admit it but you knew you’d be back, that’s a problem for future you. For now getting out of immediate danger was top priority. 

You absentmindedly let your legs guide you, taking you outside where you could finally breathe fresh air. No ambulances or police cars in sight, that's a good sign. You couldn’t handle the thought of having to watch your own body get carded away, covered by a white sheet. 

Maybe absentmindedly was a bad idea because they led you right to the football field. There he was, this is really starting to feel like an overplayed meet cute. Except nothing about this situation is cute. 

You try to back track before he could see you, legs turning to walk away but of course it’s too late. 

“Hey” You heard him yell from across the field. You stopped, closing your eyes tight as you cursed your stupid fucking legs for leading you straight to him. Reluctantly you turn back around, facing him as he speed walks towards you. “You okay?” He was slightly out of breath from walking fastly across the field. 

“Yeah, I'm great. Why wouldn’t I be?” You couldn’t stop the sarcasm that dripped from your voice. You knew it wasn’t his fault, just a simple little question people ask when things are out of place but no one ever answered truthfully. How could you be okay? You just watched the one person who’s been by your side through it all, who’s never once asked if you’re fucking okay because she knows your not, break down because of you and you couldn’t do anything about it. No you’re not fucking okay. 

“Really? Because you seem kinda mad.” Thanks captain obvious. You could tell he was trying to be playful with the way he spoke, it felt out of place but understandable. You just couldn’t help the anger it boiled in you. 

“Oh, I seem mad?” You knew it was wrong. He didn’t deserve this, none of your anger should be pointed towards him but you couldn’t stop the words from leaving your mouth, laced with venom. 

“Yeah, I'm not doing this.” And with that he gave you a tight lipped smile and walked away, leaving you there confused and upset. Granted it was deserved. 

You threw your arms in the air before you let them fall back down, hitting your thighs with a clap. “Thanks a fucking lot!” You couldn’t stop the frustrated tears that built up in your eyes. It all hurt, everything, just excruciating pain like being burned alive by your own swirl of emotions. “FUUUUCK!” You kicked the cone beside you, it didn’t do much but it felt right. Then you just felt weak and guilty. 

You sat on the grass, pulled your knees to your chest and cried. It was the only thing you could do. You felt powerless, like you had no control over anything. Have you ever? Shit you can’t even contain your own emotions. 

Choosing how to numb the pain of your swollen broken fingers was the first time you had power over yourself. Even then that turned into a downwards spiral that you got lost in. Powers motivation, something you don’t have. What's the point? You’re dead, all of the ‘healing’ and ‘fighting for those around you’ means nothing. You have nothing to get better for, so why try? 

Were you supposed to pull yourself off the ground and ask for help? There's no point, its over. Life, death, its all the same fucked up loop that left you lost. Self pity and breakdowns aren't going to fix anything, it just can’t be fixed. It’s over

It’s over

                                                                                      It’s over

                                                                       It’s over

                                                         t’s over 

                                                                       I

                                                                        t

                                                                         s

                                                                           o

                                                                             v

                                                                            e

r

Pt.9

Unofficial tag list: @gabbyygoo

Maddie: I think we‘re missing something.

Wally: Teamwork?

Rhonda: Cohesion?

Charley: A never give up attitude?

Ajay: A general sense of what we‘re doing?

(Ajay from October Sun / October Moon mentioned 👀)

Rhonda: The great thing about apologies is that you don’t have to mean them

Rhonda: You know, I lie and tell Charley I’m sorry all the time

Charley: *glares at her*

Rhonda: I’m sorry

Rhonda: See?

October Moon

summary: three hours prior, Simon had told Maddie he'd loved her. That she hadn't needed to say it back. And he'd been sure that'd been fine...until that strange, hedonist ghost connection you'd told him you'd shared with Wally had returned with a vengeance, effecting not just you and Wally, but everyone within its radius.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

🎀🌶️💌 a sprinkle of smut and love for Valentine's Day. unplanned, but perfect timing 😘

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.8

Grandpa John had always been around. A permanent fixture in your household since his death in 1974. The year your Uncle Andrew was born. He'd died in New York but had made his way back. His choice to remain an earthly ghost meant he'd had to travel as those in the living world did. Trains, planes, and automobiles. That was how it was when a soul kept a foothold in the world, so close to the veil that they never fully transitioned from life to death.

He was waiting for Nanna, you'd assumed. You didn't actually know, forbidden from talking to Grandpa John despite the fact that everyone in your family had connectedness and were aware of his presence. Although he'd been Nanna's husband, he'd spent a lot of time haunting Ginny, following her when she'd traveled even when she'd failed to acknowledge him. Or maybe she'd been breaking the rule she'd been sworn to uphold behind everyone's backs.

You'd certainly done it. And when nothing had happened—no swarms or squalls in sight—you'd kept doing it to the point you'd found your fated in his afterlife and had done a lot more than talk to him.

The rule was stupid. Possibly implemented after another family under your Ciorcal had misused their connectedness. You could imagine it: Some family of bank robbers manipulating ghosts to open bank vaults in the metaphysical world so the robbers could fill duffel bags with stacks of cash in the living world. If you were able to bring the two worlds together, surely someone else could, too.

Regardless, this wasn't the same scenario and you needed to talk to Grandpa John, so when Simon mentioned a ghost who resembled Magnum P.I., you knew you had to track him down.

"Where?" You demanded, already shifting toward the low grounds of the school where the fence met the woods.

"No, no way," Simon urged, planting himself between you and the path you wanted to take. "We have bigger things to worry about."

"Like my mom." Maddie murmured, huddled close to Charley, her face crumpled in an expression of pure anguish.

"Or why we didn't feel warm and tingly when Janet crossed over," Charley added.

A sharp exhale, "Dead Grandpa John might know something," you implored, gazing up at Wally as he stepped into your space and strung his arm around you. He shook his head, had already protested the idea because he couldn't follow you past the fence, and beseeched that you'd done enough sleuthing for one night. "But if he saw who took Limon, we'd have Amelia's real face!" You were frustrated, scared, a n g r y. She'd been in your house for fuck's sake! Didn't they care!?

Wally pulled you closer, banded his other arm around you, and held you. You wanted to shove him, kick him, snarl, scratch, lash out. But the longer he held you, the more his embrace soothed the impulse. Releasing a taxed sigh, your body went limp in his arms.

"He said he couldn't say anything, anyway," Simon said softly, his tone bordering on regretful. "He was talking in metaphors."

You felt Wally make some kind of motion before he asked, "Just...give us a second?" of Simon and the others. They must've agreed since, the next thing you knew, Wally had maneuvered you around the corner of the school building for privacy. Alone, he lifted you into his arms, turned and slid down the wall so he was sat on the ground with you in his lap. He tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your head, temple, cheek, lips. "Do you always call him 'Dead Grandpa John'?" He grinned when he pulled back to look at you.

Your snort bled into a chuckle, "We actually do, yeah."

"So you guys know you're not talking about Alive Grandpa John who exists, right?"

You shook your head, gazing at Wally with a weak but there smile. "Not even."

Wally laughed, light and fond, and nodded, "I bet he loves that."

"Hey, we're not allowed to talk to him, but he's more than welcome to talk to us. He could've said something." You challenged. And then it struck you, what Wally was doing. His carefree smile, his humor, his kisses and touch...oh. He was trying to make you feel better. You blushed, somewhat ashamed of your earlier aggressiveness, eyes downcast and lips pursed.

"What's that look for, pretty girl?" Wally asked as he hooked a finger under your chin and guided your face up, thumb smudging across your bottom lip and then lingering at the corner of your mouth.

"I'm sorry," You murmured, "I just... Seeing Aiden tonight. Knowing he's...he's still there, stuck in a loop and so far away from home. God, it would kill my mom if she found out. And Amelia being in my house?" You choked, swallowed, tucked your face into his neck, and curled your fingers in his shirt, "Wally, I'm scared."

"Me too, baby," Wally cradled the back of your head, "And you wonder why I don't want you running into the dark, creepy woods at night with just Simon and a shovel?" He huffed, "Amelia could be anywhere right now."

"She could be anyone."

"Exactly," Wally's voice dropped, low and serious as he said, "If anything happened to you and I couldn't get to you... Baby, I'd lose it, I'd—"

You could tell he was spiraling, too many bad thoughts crowding his mind. So you did what you hoped would relieve his anxiety. You took his face in your hands and kissed him. Slow. Deep. Meaningful as he held you, his big hands on your thighs, a little whimper from his throat, his bent legs falling open so you were forced to push forward and press your hips against his. Your weight rested fully in his lap and you felt a twitch in his sweatpants, right where you suddenly ached for him.

"Wally..." You said like a secret under your breath. "We should..."

Should. Do...what?

It descended by gradual degrees. That thick, viscous haze you remembered had distorted your mind the first time Wally had kissed you. The world around you and him dimmed, faded, pushed back into the margins as you pressed into the cradle of his pelvis. A gratified sigh, lips connecting and letting out, over and over, soft kisses that turned blazing as it continued.

"Just a little longer, baby," Wally grabbed your ass and guided you against him, kissed you with rising hunger, "I missed you." He rocked his hips into yours from below, the evidence of his arousal stiff and hardening further in his sweatpants. "I've got all this...this energy in me since Dawn crossed over," he whined before he devoured your lips in another deep kiss. "I can't—please baby, I need to get it out of me."

You knew why. An energy shed. When ghosts crossed over—or ascended, rather—they sheared everything that held them to the earth. Bodies and the space those occupied; consciousness as human beings understood it; all barriers surrendered for their spirit to return to the cosmic nebula they'd dawned from.

Dawn's ascension had occurred in what essentially amounted to a box where her earthly energy couldn't spread farther than the boundaries of the school. Being in such close proximity must have made that euphoric and peaceful release that much more potent. Wally needed an outlet. And, like a contact high, you were rapidly succumbing to the same need. You were hardly aware of your body moving on his, rubbing yourself against him through your layers and his.

"Please, baby," He repeated, "I want you so bad." One hand clenched your thigh while the other curled into your hair and angled your head, held it still so he could kiss you with mounting passion, "Please, just let me feel you. I need to feel you."

You whimpered, moaned, humped forward, and watched his face contort in pleasure as you ground against him. He matched your movements in that slow, sedate tempo, the anticipation and need swelling between you, around you, inside you.

"Wally," You whimpered as you felt his hand move from your thigh to the front of your jeans, expert fingers deftly undoing the button and dragging the zipper down.

"Don't stop, baby," Wally groaned, both hands sneaking into the back of your jeans, beneath your panties, to grab your ass skin-to-skin, "Fuck, it feels good." He licked into your mouth, ravenous, hot, all teeth and tongue as he consumed every sweet, eager noise you made. His cock was thick and completely hard, the friction maddening even through the thin denim of your jeans. Desire lit up and ignited inside you with every touch, kiss, sound he delivered.

When he pulled back, his eyes were lustblown and heavy, "I wanna taste you, baby." His nails lightly dragged up your ass cheeks to your hips. You nodded. Maybe. You weren't sure, everything deliciously muzzy, but you could think enough that you knew you wanted this. Wally smiled a lopsided, cocky thing that sent hot shivers through your nervous system. "Get on your hands and knees for me, pretty girl." A command more than a request in a voice like gravel.

Without hesitation, you did as he asked. Slithered out of his lap to position yourself with your ass in the air, legs spread, hips swaying as you wordlessly beckoned him to you. A fucking cat in heat, you'd never felt this kind of languid, cottoncandy desire before. Vaguely, you wondered if this was what it felt like to get high. Acutely sensitive and remarkably unaware of anything beyond your little pocket of flesh and bone.

Your wayward thoughts were steered to Wally when his fingers slipped under the waist of your jeans to drag them down below the swell of your ass. You heard him moan, felt him press his clothed cock between your cheeks, and hump once, twice, before he shifted.

"Oh fuck!" You cried out, probably definitely too loud, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered, because Wally's tongue was sweeping through your folds from behind before it fucked into you. His big hands squeezed your ass, face pressed between your ass cheeks, and he groaned in blissful satisfaction as if you were the best thing he'd ever tasted.

"So fucking sweet, baby," He said, and, glancing at him over your shoulder, you saw him lick his lips, his chin already glistening. He winked at you, smug grin on his face, and then sunk down to repeat the action. One finger dipped inside your pussy just to slick it up before it found your clit and rubbed in a firm circle. Your breath stuttered, brain turned to pudding, and, holy fuck, if he stopped you'd kill him.

Wally ate you out like he was going for gold, silver, bronze; every place, every medal, with gusto. And just when you were about to see God, "Gonna fuck you so hard, baby," Wally came up for air, shoved his sweatpants down, and drove into you in one fluid motion. Hard. The slap of skin on skin bouncing off the wall and ricocheting into the night. "F u u u c k."

You fell forward onto your elbows, cheek in the grass, body rocking from every beastial thrust. The noises his cock punched out of you were unlike any you'd heard yourself make, and what the hell was that? You didn't know you were capable of that pitch, that high note; so desperate and needy and completely fucking shameless in your lust for Wally as he pounded into you over and over, blunt cockhead beating your g-spot like a drum.

"Oh God, W-Wally!" You choked, gasped, whimpered in that order, forcing yourself onto your hands and slamming back just as good as you he gave you. So close, so fucking close, just a little more, God, please— "Oh fuck, Wally, don't stop!"

Grabbing you by your throat, Wally drew you upright, his cock still buried deep, and pressed your back to his front. His teeth found your neck; nipped, sucked, licked, his thumb pushed between your lips for you to suck. He moaned like rapture, pace faster, more feverish, as his other hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.

He was swiftly losing control, you could feel it, his hips stuttering, but he didn't stop, "Gonna come for me, baby girl?" And, shit, oh, oh—two, three, four more hard, brutal thrusts, his fat cock beating the ecstasy into your bloodstream—you came with a force that left you reeling. Waves crashed, galaxies lived and died, and you nearly blacked out.

The instant you clenched around him, Wally roared, primal, from the depths of his chest, nails biting your hip painfully as he fucked his climax into you. His fingers twitched around your throat, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he panted a mantra of your name punctuated by long groans. When he stilled, you and he collapsed forward into the grass. He caught himself before squishing you under his weight, his hand quickly adjusting from your throat to your stomach as he kept you against him and rolled to the side.

"Holy shit," He breathed, sweatpants still around his thighs, softening, wet cock cooling in the open air.

The feeling rose from your belly to your chest and then outward. It started with a giggle that grew into a laugh which Wally doubled with his own. You flopped onto your back, turned your head to stare at him as you and he came down from whatever high had picked up and carried you and him away.

"Energy sheds are fucking. awesome." You decided with a wide grin, taking a moment to tug your panties and jeans back into place.

"Is that what that was?" Wally asked as he, too, put himself to rights. He sat up first, gathered you into his arms, between his legs, and sat back against the wall. "An energy shed?"

You nodded, snuggled into him, and stamped a kiss to his collar, "It's a side-effect of ascending. Or crossing over, as you call it." You explained, "You don't take everything with you when you ascend and what stays behind is dispersed. Usually, it has a lot more room, but I guess, with the Something-Something's barrier in place, Dawn's energy couldn't thin out." You grinned up at him as he blinked down at you in amazement.

"Jesus, it felt like I took a dozen hits of Molly..." Wally's head fell back against the wall, mouth slightly parted, brow glistening with a sheen of sweat. "Is it always like that?"

"It's not supposed to be that intense. Like I said, the shed's usually spread a lot thinner. People within a certain radius would feel a sense of peace and pure happiness. Concentrated like it is here? I guess it's a helluva drug." You speculated.

Wally swooped down to kiss you, affectionate and slow, and when he pulled back, "I'm still horny," he chuckled, "How long does it last?"

"I have no idea," You said honestly, a big smile on your face as you planned to spend the night with your devilishly sexy ghost boyfriend. That was until you remembered why you were there in the first place. Reality crashed over you like a bucket of ice water, "Oh my God, they probably heard everything!"

Wally shifted to peek around the corner, "Uh... I don't think they did." He said, "No one's there..."

"Yeah, probably because they heard. everything." You bemoaned into your hands, cheeks flushed for the worst reason.

"Babe, I'm sure it's fine," Wally kissed your temple, then your cheek, then your cheek again and again, an onslaught of playful kisses that tickled a giggle from you. "C'mon, sweet girl," Wally hoisted you easily to your feet as he rose from the ground, hugged you close before he led you toward the side entrance, "Let's go find the others."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon stared ahead, mortified. Or, really, he should've felt mortified, but he couldn't bring himself to. Maddie was breathing heavily, her cheeks a gorgeous cherry red, eyes glazed, lips kiss-swollen. Her jeans and underwear still dangled off a leg hung over the teacher's desk. Simon's jeans, however, were securely on though open, his come splashed in streaks and dribbles on the yellowed linoleum he'd knelt on while he'd eaten Maddie out. Whatever the fuck that unprecedented interlude of lustfucknow had been, it'd passed, and in the aftermath Simon wasn't sure what to do or say or think.

Eventually, "Wow," Maddie exhaled, tipping back to lay across the desk. "Simon..."

Simon grit his teeth, winced, eyes squeezed shut as he mentally prepared for Maddie to freak out and tell him never to talk to her again. "Yeah...?"

Instead, "When did you learn how to do that?" she surprised him.

Simon blushed crimson and whipped his head toward her. He was on the ground, back against the wall, tucked beneath the blackboard with his knees up, hand over opposite wrist. He studied her expression as she finally maneuvered off the desk on wobbly legs and began to dress herself.

"It's not like I had practice," He confessed, unsure if sharing was caring in this situation. He did anyway, "I just...listened." To her sounds; the whimpers and sighs and perfect, songbird moans of ecstasy he'd seduced from her with his fingers and mouth. Fuck, that'd been everything Simon had ever wanted. He'd yearned for the chance to give Maddie that kind of pleasure for longer than he would admit. Only, now that he'd had it, he wasn't sure how to process it.

Once dressed, Maddie plopped down beside him, rested her head on his shoulder, and looped her arms through his as she spoke, "You are a very good listener."

He couldn't help it, Simon snorted and hung his head, smiled in relief, "Thanks, that means a lot." After a few moments of oddly comfortable silence, he asked, "Do we know what that was?" Too afraid to question whether or not there was a chance it would happen again.

"I bet she knows." Maddie said as she glanced up at Simon, "We should probably go find her and Wally."

Her head was still on his shoulder, the way she'd rested it angled her face exactly right for Simon to gently lean down and press his lips to hers. Soft. Hesitant. And then firmer, harder, his body turning, one arm snaking around Maddie's shoulders while the hand of the other cupped her jaw.

"We should really go..." She whispered, but she didn't move.

Simon agreed, "Yeah," and didn't release her, both coming together again in a slow, deep kiss.

A sharp knock on the door pulled them apart, Wally's voice calling through, "You guys have pants on or should we come back later?"

They heard you yelp and demand, "What do you mean do they have pants on!?" And then, clearly not having seen who Wally saw, "WHO doesn't have pants on!?"

Before Wally answered for them, Simon called back, "We're coming!" to which he heard Wally snicker and gloat, I bet you are. Simon glowered at the door. Maddie laughed, fuller and freer than he'd heard since she'd been kicked into the metaphysical world. He hadn't even come to terms with the fact that, because soul-ties were a thing and now he and Maddie were part of your weird, cosmic family, Simon could hug, touch, kiss Maddie's ghost. It was surreal. Incredible. A little terrifying.

Maddie stood first and held a hand out to him, yanking him to his feet when he took it. He did up his fly and smoothed his hair back before taking her hand. They stood, staring at each other, Maddie's eyes openly admiring Simon in a way that made his heart race and his skin prickle. Wow. He felt complete, whole, at the peak of happiness, and he never wanted it to end.

Hand in hand, he walked her to the classroom door. Simon was both giddy and grateful that she didn't tug away or demand he let go of her even after he opened the door and stepped into the hall to meet you and Wally—equally as disheveled, he noted. Grass stains on the knees of your jeans and his sweatpants; your hair sex-mussed and his smile far too satisfied to be from anything else. Simon glanced back at Maddie who adjusted their position, led his hand to her waist, and curled into his side. Like a lover. She looked beautiful and pleasured and a little sugarglazed after three orgasms and Simon couldn't help himself. He preened. And then got down to business.

"Talk." Simon said, giving you a significant look.

Your response, "We're high on ascension," explained nothing, yet Simon understood. Because Maddie had told him about Dawn and had managed to explain enough about what she'd been experiencing right before Simon had picked her up and pinned her to the desk.

Everyone was floating on some sort of post-Dawn's-crossing-over buzz as if they'd collectively inhaled an aphrodisiac. When he took stock of himself, he realized he still felt it. That liquid hot desire coursing through him, less intense but there. He could read the signs of that intoxication all over you and Wally. He'd seen it on Charley's face before Charley had muttered something about the Art room. And Ajay, who'd loped off to the theater. And Rhonda, who'd grouchily stomped in the direction of the library before she'd called back to inform, I'm going to find Bernie, whoever that was.

Jesus, they'd been drugged.

"Are we gonna regret this later?" Simon had to ask, worrying his bottom lip, unable to peel his eyes from the floor.

You must've picked up on what he couldn't say since, addressing Maddie, you said, "It's not like drinking too much. I'd say it's more like an anti-depressant. The good feelings already inside you have space to grow and you can't ignore them." You continued to explain what ascension actually was and then added, "I mean, you don't feel like fucking me, do you?" Also directed to Maddie.

The silence that followed made Simon's head whip up and his jaw drop. Thankfully, Maddie seemed to simply be considering the question and doing an internal scan, because she eventually shook her head.

"As cute as I think you are, I'm not coded like that."

"Same, babes," followed by, "Whether or not you guys regret it will have to be a conversation you have," you shrugged as Wally crowded closer to you, clearly not having appreciated the idea of sharing you if Maddie had said yes. If you'd even go for it, of course. Which planted quite the image in Simon's mind and, oh God, when would this stuff work itself out of his system, please and thank you?

"Where are the others?" You wondered, dragging Simon back down to earth.

He cleared his throat, blinking and shaking his head to drive away the cotton slog that kept creeping in. "Charley went to the Art room, Rhonda...went in the direction of the library—" Wally choked "—and Ajay said something about the theater."

Everyone sobered when Simon mentioned Ajay; downcast eyes and tight expressions of regret. Mina's absence meant Ajay didn't have someone to share that pure, radiant delirium with. Or maybe he'd found her, Mina drawn out of hiding by lust.

"We should split up and find the others. We need to figure out what our next moves are."

"No offense," Simon began, casting Maddie a bashful look, "But I don't think I have it in me to come up with next moves right now. I'm still...kind of..."

"Horny?" Wally supplied, grinning like a goof.

Simon didn't say anything, but he didn't have to.

Your determination was admirable. "Alright, what if we split up, and Maddie and I go together?"

Together, "No!" Simon and Wally rejected the idea immediately.

You rolled your eyes, "Guys, my brother is trapped in an abandoned house, Maddie's mom might be responsible for why she's a ghost, Amelia knows where I live, fuck knows where Dave is and what he knows, and if I'm not back at Xavier's before midnight, Sheriff Baxter is going to raid every building in Split River. We need to focus."

"She says like she isn't fondling her dead boyfriend," Simon commented, brow raised and eyes fixed on where your hand was on Wally's ass.

"Oh, shut up, I can still prioritize." You defended, glowering at Simon even as your cheeks pinked adorably.

"She's right," Maddie said and gave Simon a pleading look that he couldn't argue with if he wanted to. "I need to find out what happened to me. And if..." She swallowed, "and if my mom is the one who hurt me. She was here that day. I don't remember everything, but she was drunk and we argued. It was really bad..." Trailing off, Maddie stared at her boots, body trembling slightly under Simon's hand.

He brought her closer, kissed her hair and wrapped his arms around her to encase her in a comforting embrace. "Alright, let's go get the others and come up with what we wanna do next." He deferred to you for first steps.

"You said Charley's in the Art room? You guys go get him. Wally and I will grab Rhonda from the library, and then Ajay from the theater. We'll meet back at the fence. Good?"

"Good." Wally, Maddie, and Simon echoed.

You beamed, "Good. And no delays!"

Simon studied you for a moment, mouth twisting into an amused smirk, "You're still fondling your dead boyfriend."

You repeated his words in a mocking cadence and simply dragged Wally down the hall, leaving Maddie and Simon to laugh at your and Wally's backs.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally was riding high on ascension, whistling a tune he hadn't heard in years (Everybody Wants to Rule the World, and he didn't care what Charley said, it was a hit), literally skipping and jiving down the hallway toward the library. He serenaded you with the lyrics as he pulled you into a loose and silly Two Step; twirled you, lifted you, kissed you breathless because he couldn't imagine doing anything else ever again.

When you and he reached the book return bins, Dawn's piece of the metaphysical school, the flicker of a flashlight caught Wally's attention. Instantly, he scooped you up and placed you on top of the bins, made sure you were safe and hidden before he approached the mouth of the hallway. On that same wave of whimsy, Wally finger snapped like a Greaser in a musical toward Security Guard Al, belting the chorus right into the man's face as Al halted his trek around the corner.

Al stood for a moment, staring directly through Wally to the other end of the hall, and then, repelled by Wally's ghostly energy, went right on his way. Back toward the office where he'd fish another donut out of the box the secretary had left him and watch the second half of the movie he'd been playing before his start-of-shift rounds.

Wally grinned, pleased as punch, and returned to you, arms outstretched to pluck you from the top of the bins. He didn't put you down, though. Rather, he had you wrap your legs around his waist so he could spin you around and then press you against the wall. You laughed, partly at his antics, but mostly from the tingly remnants of Dawn's undiluted ascension. You slipped out of Wally's hold, feet on the ground, back against the wall, and gazed up at him.

In return, Wally towered over you, one arm propped on the wall above your head, opposite hand lifting to trail his fingers down the slope of your jaw, thumbprint grazing your lips. God, he loved you so much he was crazed from it. He had to tell you. A million times would never express it enough, but he wanted you to hear it, feel it, feel him.

"I love you, baby." Wally murmured as he leaned in and brushed his lips across yours. A barely-there tease that he let linger for a moment before he pressed in, hard and wanting. He hoisted you into his arms again, one hand on the curve of your ass, his hardening cock humping against your pussy through your jeans and his sweatpants. "Fuck, baby, I can't—this stuff is insane," He groaned after he nipped your earlobe. "I need you again, baby, please. I can't think."

"Yeah," You breathed, grinding back against him, "Yeah, okay. We can be quick, right?"

Wrong.

But Wally didn't want to say anything that would deter you from being carried to the boy's locker room—just down the nearby stairs and to the right—and fucked against the tiles under a warm shower. It was a fantasy Wally suddenly had to play out. He'd die all over again if he didn't. And you didn't want him to die again, did you?

"Do you, baby?"

You laughed, "No, Wally, I don't want you to die again."

He grinned into the skin of your neck, sucking a bruise over your pulse point, "Good girl."

Wally didn't care that the library—and Rhonda and Bernie—were right there. He needed you naked and soapy and on his cock five minutes ago. The journey to the locker room was interrupted by various breaks to pin you to walls and ravish you with kisses and desperate touches, Wally's hands groping everywhere he could reach. When he finally got you into the locker room, his cock was throbbing, a stain of precum blossoming through the fabric of his sweatpants.

You and he stripped in a frenzy, playful and carefree. You threw your jeans at his head, he grabbed you around the waist when you tried to dodge him, both you and he laughing like there wasn't a resurrectionist cult out to manipulate ghosts and perform deadly rituals. Wally manhandled you into the showers, your knees hooked over his arms, his cock driving into you from below as he held you easily against the tiles. He could see it in you, that his strength turned you on.

"You like it when I have you like this, baby?" He whispered darkly in your ear, one, two, three powerful thrusts before you answered with a beautiful keen and your pussy gripped his cock tighter. "Fuck, that's it baby. You take me so good, don't you?"

"Y-yes," You mewled, a sound that went straight to Wally's cock. "God, Wally, harder, please, I need it harder..."

And, Jesus Christ, that made whatever remained of his control snap. He granted your wish, hips snapping in sharper strokes as he brought you down on his cock harder. He could do this all night. All day. Forever. He wanted this forever. He wanted you forever.

Forever, fuck, please, let me have her forever, Wally begged whatever higher power would listen, fucking into you with abandon, a slave to his lust. You began to tremble into his arms, crying out on every hard upstroke until he felt you squeeze around him. And then, God, yes, and then his own release hit him like a fucking train.

After, he sunk to his knees, adjusted his arms so he could hold you properly. Wally panted into your throat as warm water streamed over you and him, steam clouding the air, the perfect cocoon to escape in and pretend the world didn't exist. Just for another minute. Just one...

However, it was several minutes (an hour) later when anyone showed up to the fence. Maddie and Simon were more disheveled. Rhonda was brazenly wearing Bernie's top and nothing else. Charley's neck was a Jackson Pollock of love bites. And Ajay was doing his best not to look anyone in the eye.

You and Wally were the last to arrive.

Oops.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

In the woods just outside of town, Dave paced a trench in the loam, hands waving frantically as he ranted, "That manifesting little bitch!"

Leaned casually against the side of Dave's car, arms folded, unimpressed, Sheriff Baxter scoffed, "You think it's her fault your plan isn't coming together?" He pushed off the car and straightened, cracked his neck, eyes narrowing dangerously, "Have I taught you nothing? I told you it was better done in one shot, yet you insisted to do it this way and now look where we are!"

Dave whirled around and marched toward Sheriff Baxter, "We tried doing it the old way, remember? It failed! One more disaster in this shit town and we'd be found out."

"Such a childish thing to say. Who would ever believe it?" Sheriff Baxter leveled Dave with a hard look. "Magic doesn't exist outside of movies and fairytales these days. We could've done it and moved on by now."

"You weren't arguing when I suggested it, mother." Dave growled, "In fact, you supported it fully, if I recall. All because you refused to seek out new land."

"Don't put this on me, Amelia." Sheriff Baxter stood taller, his expression menacing. Dave shrunk, cowed, and obediently stepped back. "We're running out of time. That little shit you foolishly trusted has taken my vessel and now the ghost I warned you to demolish is speaking the others into ascension. We either do this now or we fade into nothing. Do you understand?"

Dave didn't take his eyes off the ground, "Yes mother."

"I suppose I have to step in and clean up your mess. Again."

"I can—"

With fire in his eyes, Sheriff Baxter snapped, "You have made it abundantly clear that you absolutely CAN. NOT." A tense pause. "You have until tomorrow night to find the girl. If you don't, I am leaving you to this world, Amelia. Your vessel is mine and your soul will be no more than a hole in the Awen."

Dave gasped, visibly terrified. There was no doubt in his mind that his future depended entirely on finding Janet Hamilton in Maddie Nears' withering body. If he didn't, his fate would be worse than ceasing to exist. Amelia's soul would be so thoroughly obliterated, it would be as if she had never existed at all.

💀___________________________

PART SEVEN - PART NINE

note: happy Valentine's Day, my beauties 💐 i hope you enjoyed this installment. i'm starting to crave the second season, but i'm still on best behavior. haven't even had a peek *wails in starvation* i really wanna get the next couple of installments out so i can change that, so let's pray that i can bring everything together sooner rather than later... seriously. pray for me 🥹

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: we're not about that life around here (•¯ ∀ ¯•) things got too outta hand and i'm still cleaning up the mess left behind by the demons i accidentally summoned trying to get the damn thing to work 🕳️👹......there's a dustpan over there if you feel like helping 🧹💨 or, if you just wanna stay up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS.

October Moon

summary: after the anti-séance, Wally had tried to find Maddie. she'd mentioned the possibility of having had to meet Simon, a suggestion Rhonda had thought was worth following-up on. only, their search for her had been interrupted by something none of them had ever experience...but should have.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.7

Maddie had excused herself after the anti-séance. Wally couldn't blame her for needing to be alone. It'd been intense and had left everyone shaken, especially given how summery, cheerful Dawn had reacted to memories of the day she'd died.

In the aftermath, Wally couldn't have been the only person sitting in regret. He'd never bothered to ask Dawn how she'd ended up on the wrong side of the Split River High veil. No one had. Not a single one of them had extended the courtesy of curiosity to learn anything about her beyond what she radiated. A spacey, Flower Power darling with well-meaning intentions and a naive, almost childlike approach to everything.

If Wally was being honest, the anger burning in Dawn's eyes after the anti-seance had scared him. In the forty years he'd spent with her, she'd never once expressed a negative emotion. Not ONCE. Wally had had a misguided fling with her a few months after his death. He'd flirted his way into her pants like a sleaze because he'd been restless and horny and, yeah, pissed since Jenny had started her healing journey in Gary's bed arms. Back then, Wally had had an ego that'd needed to be stroked and Dawn had been willing.

She'd been a fun diversion. Really fun. The kind of fun Wally had expected less than he'd expected her anger. Dawn had been chatty, but up for anything if it felt good. She hadn't cared that Wally hadn't wanted to cuddle in the afterglow. She hadn't cared when he'd ignored between trysts. And then, when the desire to medicate his grief with sex had faded, she hadn't been upset or wounded when he'd ended things. In fact, she'd smiled and shrugged and had babbled something about having already known they hadn't been compatible because he was a Libra and she was a Pie Piece. Or something.

Point being that Dawn hadn't held any of it against him. Had instead encouraged Wally to get it out of his system so he could move forward in the afterlife. Her whole thing was peace and harmony and staring at the fluorescent light above the book return bins like a sunflower under the sun. But the memory of her death had done something to her. Had shaken loose the feelings she must've repressed because afterward, she'd been...hateful. Revenge on her tongue as she'd spat how, "It should've been them. Not me."

"That was a waste of time," Rhonda said and Wally recognized that she was trying to lighten the mood in her moody, Wednesday Addams way. "Should we try something else?"

She stood at the coffee machine in the teacher's lounge where she, Wally, and Charley had congregated to decompress. Ajay was nearby on the couch, reading a book you'd brought him about ghosts. It was mainstream, you'd warned, but as close to accurate as was allowed to be published for the 'unconnected' masses. Ajay had expressed to you and Wally that he wanted to do more research into what it actually meant to be dead. Wally sensed that Ajay had begun to lose faith in Mr. Martin's guidance what with Mina still being AWOL, and that was how he'd chosen to cope.

Vaguely, Wally wondered if Ajay was taking his own path to crossing over. He'd let slip that it was a theory he'd considered. That Mina, like Janet, had crossed over while everyone had been trapped in past.

Wally chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought about it. Something about Mina's absence was starting to bother him. How could she have moved on when the farmhouse door had unleashed hell? Weren't moments of crossing over meant to be peaceful? And, if she hadn't crossed over (which Wally suspected she hadn't), the girl never left the theater. She was a looper. That's what Mina did: Looped. Day in and day out, she secured the stage from the rafters and barked at anyone who dared visit her before they took the safety course.

"You good, Moose?" Rhonda asked as she took the seat beside him at the kitchenette table. Charley was on the counter, legs dangling, heels knocking the cupboard below. "You look out of it."

Wally kept his voice low so Ajay wouldn't hear him, "Mina. She's still missing, but she's a looper who doesn't leave the theater. And Dawn? After that anti-séance, she looked like she was ready to go to war. Dawn, hippie, flower power fucking Dawn." Wally's head dropped into his hands, "Everything's backwards and it's freaking me out."

"For real, me too." Charley seconded, sliding off the counter to join Wally and Rhonda at the table. "Has anyone else noticed that since Maddie got here, Mr. Martin's been..." He glanced at the ceiling as he searched for his words, "Pushier than normal?"

Wally nodded, "Yeah. He's acting like she's his daughter getting into drugs or something." A delinquent throwing her life away for the dopamine thrill of doing what she was told not to. Wally wondered if Mr. Martin saw her that way, a train of thought that inspired him to ask, "Did Mr. Martin have kids?"

Rhonda shook her head, "Not that I know of. If he did, he never said so."

"Does it matter?" Charley asked. "Even if he did, he's never acted that way with us, and Rhonda's way more likely to fall into the 'wrong crowd'."

"Gee, thanks skuzz bucket," Rhonda jeered, taking a loud sip of her coffee to express how she felt about Charley's assumption.

Charley rolled his eyes, "I'm just saying, why Maddie?"

"Maybe he knows more than he's letting on." Wally suggested. Rhonda and Charley shared a look of doubt. "Did you hear how he got when Maddie brought up not remembering how she died? Or...didn't die, but Mr. M doesn't know that, right? He was pressing her about influencing the living."

Rhonda stared into her coffee as Charley spoke, "It's possible. If he does, why doesn't he just say something?"

"He doesn't know," Rhonda stated, still not looking directly at either Charley or Wally. "Charley's right, he'd say something if he did."

"You know that for sure, Deadly?" Wally pressed with distrust. "Or is that what he told you to say?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Rhonda put her coffee down and pushed her chair back, hands planted on the table, leaned toward Wally, a hawkish scowl on her face.

Wally didn't bat an eye, "It means that you've been following his orders like a German shepherd since that shit went down in the theater."

"How about I'm done being stuck in a place where you can get trapped in someone's fucked up past. I don't care what it looks like, I want to get out of here." Rhonda snarled, pushing off the table and crossing her arms defensively, "Janet might've been a bitch to Mr. Martin most of the time, but she still listened to him. So what if I'm doing the same? That doesn't mean I'm keeping his secrets." Lip curled and hip cocked, "Any other theories, Dick Tracy?"

Sighing, Wally held up his hands and, "I'm sorry," he said, ashamed, "all this stuff is getting me. I didn't mean to take it out on you, Rhonda."

Rhonda scoffed, but it lacked claws, "Whatever."

Wally stood and moved around the table to wrap her in a hug. She didn't return it, stiffened and complained, though didn't knee him in the balls which made him grin. "Forgive me?"

"Get off me and I'll think about it." Rhonda grumbled.

From behind them, Charley proposed, "We should make pizzas and watch anything but Rudy—" Wally perked up, "—or Ghost—" Ah, dang, "in the faculty lounge. Maybe what we really need after that failure of a séance experiment is to forget it ever happened."

That sounded like the best idea, in Wally's opinion. A night to press pause on all the crazy. To relax and unwind like they used to.

"We should find Maddie. She probably needs it more than we do." He said, releasing Rhonda to grab his jacket and pull it on. "She didn't look too good after the anti-séance."

"Your girlfriend won't get jealous that you wanna spend so much time with her friend?" Rhonda teased, that wicked twinkle back in her eye.

Wally threw her a weary look, "No, because she has nothing to worry about. I'm a one-woman man, Deadly. I've only got eyes for her." The smile he sported was dreamy as he thought about you. Pretty and perfect and making everything he'd ever wanted seem possible.

From the couch in the main area, "face!" Ajay called, not once looking away from the page he was on.

Though tired of being told off whenever he made what everyone referred to as 'heart eyes' while having thoughts of you, Wally straightened his expression into something neutral without comment.

Okay, he took that back, he had one comment, "You suck and you're not invited to pizza night."

Ajay cackled.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Using your key to unlock the door, you ran into the house, Xavier close behind you. Up the stairs, down the hall, to the door with the dinosaur stickers on it as waist height. Suddenly nervous, you hesitated and glanced at Xavier. He looked back, hand on your shoulder, a tentative smile on his face like he wanted to support you but was equally as afraid of what you and he would find.

A deep breath. You turned the handle and opened the door. Xavier flicked on the light after you stepped into Aiden's bedroom. The toys were untouched on their shelves, tiny shoes lined up by the closet, the wicker laundry hamper still half full. You'd made the bed after spending the night in there weeks ago. Military corners, smooth surface, pillows stacked.

Limon was gone.

"Dave?" Xavier asked, voice barely above a whisper, his breath caught in his lungs.

You were too unnerved to answer as you slowly approached the bed. Sinking to your knees, you checked under it, checked around it, checked the nightstand and the shelves and there was no sign of Aiden's stuffed lion.

Xavier asked again, "He must've taken it. Or Amelia as Dave must've taken it. Right?"

Your breathing was steadily getting too quick, your blood pumping harder, head feeling dizzy. "That's impossible," you wheezed, "Even if Amelia was in Dave, her ghost would be repelled at the door by the wards."

"The what?" Xavier's brow was furrowed. He joined you as you sunk down on the bed. "What're you talking about?"

"Ginny put wards around the house to keep bad spirits out. It's a traveler thing. A failsafe. To protect everyone but especially herself. She-she started astral projecting in her sleep after Aiden died. Mom got depressed, I apparently buried the memories so deep, I rewrote them, Andrew moved out...and Ginny started sleep-traveling." You looked at Xavier, voice a terrified rasp, "Amelia shouldn't be able to get past the wards, Zav."

Xavier contemplated what you said and then, after a lull fraught with unease, "What about in her own body?"

The idea that Amelia had been in your house, knew the layout, took something that didn't belong to her and delivered it to your brother's ghost that she'd trapped for her own sick purposes—Jesus Christ. You began to shake, tears streaming down your face. The house wasn't safe anymore. Your family wasn't safe.

Had they ever been?

Amelia had somehow discovered Alistair had reincarnated in Aiden and had...had fucking disposed of him like a lamb for slaughter just to ensure she wouldn't be discovered. That suggested she'd been around your family enough to recognize her long-lost lover in Aiden's eyes. She could have known them. Been the mailman or the cable guy, a neighbor, a friend.

You gasped, inhaling after too many seconds of forgetting to breathe, and then doubled over and released a noise of anguish. Instantly, Xavier hauled you into his arms and held you, both you and him tilting too far off the bed at that angle that he settled on the floor with you. He murmured words of comfort, lost beneath the white noise flooding your brain.

"If she knows where you live, we need to get you out of here," Xavier urged once you'd calmed enough to hear him. "She might come back, especially if she saw you after she pushed Quinn."

Trembling, you wiped your eyes and nodded, allowed Xavier you get you to your feet and help you downstairs.

"I can't stay with you forever, Zav." You reminded him when you and he reached the bottom of the stairs. Your mother would see through any excuse you gave her if you attempted to prolong your stay at the Baxter house, and you could tell Xavier knew that, too.

"Not forever, but at least for tonight. Andrew's coming back tomorrow, right?"

Softly, "Yeah," and the thought of your uncle's presence made you feel less like you needed to escape Split River altogether. You wouldn't run, you'd never leave Maddie and Simon and Xavier to handle Amelia alone, but the pit in your stomach was growing and you couldn't ignore the itch in your feet.

"And he's in the know. You can tell him about Amelia. He'll keep you safe. And when Ginny's better, she'll keep you safe, too." Xavier embraced you all over again, squeezing you so tight you could feel the anxiety he was trying to hide thrum through his body. He pulled back, hands on your shoulders, holding your gaze, "Dad will likely have someone watching your house if they don't find Dave by then."

"That makes me feel a lot better," You admitted. While Andrew was physically capable and Ginny's connectedness was strong, you worried that Amelia was stronger. A cop car stationed in front of the house was more likely to deter her from coming after you while you were home. That was...until they caught Dave.

Never in your life did you imagine you'd pray for someone never to be found, but right then, you prayed harder than you'd ever done before.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally rounded the corner and called out, "Maddie?" And then, "I wanna make sure she's okay," Wally insisted when he heard Rhonda groan. Locating Maddie had started as an effort to include her in their pizza night plans, but after awhile Wally's mindset had shifted it to a search party.

They hadn't had any luck finding Maddie in her usual spots. Of course, the spots they'd come to know as her 'usual' had been the only places where Simon could see her before he'd gained fully realized ghost powers. Unfortunately, Wally didn't have much else to go on, so he led Rhonda and Charley back to the faculty lounge. Neither Rhonda nor Charley thought Maddie was in danger or distress, believed Wally was being paranoid, but Wally didn't care.

He was worried.

"Let's check the faculty lounge," Rhonda said with boredom.

Charley added sarcastically, "She didn't say she needed a nap," as if he'd seen her at some point between the anti-séance and now.

"Maybe she went to speak with Simon," Rhonda suggested, and, truthfully, that made the most sense.

However, wasn't Simon supposed to be on the alert for word from you and Xavier; ready to go at a moment's notice should you and Xavier need help at the old farmhouse? That'd been the deal you'd assured Wally of. Simon was backup. Backup that Wally trusted a fuck ton more than Xavier.

He must've made a face, because Rhonda said, "Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"You winced when I brought up Simon." She explained. "Jealous that Maddie's living person is here when yours is on an adventure with her best guy friend?"

Wally had to bite his tongue as he deflected, "This is not me wincing, this is my happy face." He forced a smile and felt how unnatural it probably looked.

Confirming it, "Could've fooled me," Rhonda said, eyebrows raised.

After peeking into the faculty lounge and seeing only Ajay sprawled on the couch, Wally turned and sighed, "Look, I know going to that place has to be hard. And possibly dangerous. I'm actually glad Xavier when with her, okay?"

Rhonda smirked and glimpsed at Charley before teasing, "I believe you, but if that is your happy face, remind me to hide when you're really happy."

Wally opened his mouth to retort only to be cut off by Charley who questioned, "Hey, has anyone seen Dawn since the séance?"

It took a second for the relevance of Charley's question to sink in. Wally looked at the empty space above the book return bins where Dawn normally roosted when there was nothing else to do. Once more, Wally felt a pang of guilt. He'd been so busy tracking down Maddie, he hadn't even considered asking Dawn to join them for pizza night.

"She's not there." Charley sounded concerned.

"Weird," Wally said, looking up and down the hall, "She's usually there."

A strange noise came from the light above their heads, the click of the ballast, before the light flickered as if the bulb was about to die. The buzz of electricity through the circuit grew louder and was joined by a high-pitched tinnitus ring. Instantaneously, Wally felt his skin prickle and a warmth fill his belly and flush outward. A sense of anticipation built within him, the happy kind, the kind children on birthdays and Christmas. Then, slowly, though he knew his feet were still firmly planted on the ground, if he closed his eyes, he'd have sworn he was floating.

"What the hell is that?" He wanted to know as it didn't feel like anything he'd felt before, alive or dead.

The light above flickered—on off, on off—stopped, and the light swelled brighter and bigger until it completely enveloped them. A cloud of every happiness Wally had ever experienced cradling him as it expanded to overtake the hallway. For a brief and beautiful moment, Wally felt light. No jealousy, no worry, no breath, no pulse. Just serenity and a sense of loss. It was blissful rather than painful, however, like a sweet and cherished goodbye.

And then it was over. Air rushed back into Wally's lungs and the light blinked back to normal.

A lull of silence punctured by, "Did anybody else just feel that?" Charley asked as he checked himself over.

"Goosebumps," Wally affirmed, "Yeah." His body felt heavy, cumbersome, foreign after the light had made him weightless. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, his mind spinning record laps in his skull, and, in gentle increments, he couldn't deny it, his heart insisting he was right. "Do we think that Dawn just—?"

"Dawn just crossed over." Charley confirmed Wally's hunch. "Yeah. Yeah I do."

Wally swallowed thickly, "Holy crap," his brain jumbled, dots connecting faster than he could follow the pattern. He didn't even realize he was speaking when he asked, "Does anybody remember this happening when Janet left?"

Rhonda stared at him, her expression hard, "Nope."

Ajay opened the door to the faculty lounge, stunned and wobbly, "What the hell just happened?"

Wally didn't give Ajay a chance to catch up and recover, "What does the book say about crossing over?"

Ajay gaped, stammered, "I-I knew it. I felt it like she was saying goodbye... Oh my God." Wally repeated the question as he turned to face Ajay fully, brain finally back in the game. Ajay hurried to the couch where he'd left the book and grabbed it. He scanned the glossary, the index, the table of contents. "There's nothing here about it."

In that case, "If Maddie's with Simon, we need to find them. Now." Wally asserted.

"Why?" Charley wondered, though he seemed ready to follow Wally's lead wherever it took them.

"Because Simon needs to make a call."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Aurora walked into the back room and turned on the lights. She hadn't been sleeping, everything too fucked up for her to rest. Dave, her Dave, the man she'd fallen in love with and married, had tried to kill a teenager. She didn't understand and the confusion had kept her awake for too many hours in a row.

She hadn't thought to grab the tea on her way out of the house on Friday. Nor had Nanna. Everything too chaotic and messy as they shoved clothes into bags and called an ambulance for Ginny. Thankfully, she had a stock of dried ingredients at the flower shop. Although Noah had insisted she not leave his house after dark, she couldn't bear another sleepless night. Her mind couldn't take it. Aurora was manic and paranoid and needed sleep. One night. A handful of hours. She didn't care. Anything would be better than nothing.

She almost screamed when the bell above the door jingled, her heart in her throat as she spun around wielding the food shovel like a hammer.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me," She panted when she saw who it was.

Noah Baxter moved into the light and gave her a pointed look, "I told you not to leave the house after sundown."

Aurora grimaced, "I know, I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep..."

"So you came to arrange flowers?" He asked with a smirk as he approached. He looked over the jars she'd pulled off the shelf behind the cashier's desk and raised an eyebrow.

"It's for tea," Aurora said, placing the food shovel on the counter and reaching for the next jar. "It helps you sleep."

Noah patted her back and nodded, his voice sympathetic, "Whatever you need, sweetie. Just be quick."

He waited and watched as she shoveled small scoops of each ingredient into an empty ziploc she'd brought from his house. Lavender. Ashwagandha. Verbena. Valerian. She replaced the jars carefully and tidied up, heart still beating wildly in her chest from the scare Noah had given her.

"I'm ready," She said once she was done, offering him a placid smile.

He smiled back, "You forgot passionflower."

Aurora blinked. Had she? She opened the bag and sniffed, noted that the smell wasn't quite what it should be. Without addressing it, she simply turned and plucked the jar of dried passionflower and uncapped it; sprinkled the right amount into the baggie.

"Thanks." She said, truly grateful, and returned the jar to the shelf.

They left together, Noah at her side as she locked up, his eyes scanning the area for anything suspicious. Like her husband, she thought, hand shaking as put her keys in her purse.

It wouldn't be until much later that she'd question how Noah could've known what ingredient she'd missed.

💀___________________________

PART SIX - PART EIGHT

note: dun dun duuuunnn!! 👀 next one should be out tomorrow 🫶

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: we're not about that life around here (•¯ ∀ ¯•) things got too outta hand and i'm still cleaning up the mess left behind by the demons i accidentally summoned trying to get the damn thing to work 🕳️👹......there's a dustpan over there if you feel like helping 🧹💨 or, if you just wanna stay up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS.

Sex, Drugs, Ect.

pt.5

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. Possible smut in the future. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2022. Hearing Voices. Talk of a Dead Body. Self Deprecation. Angst. Arguing.

2k words

pt.4

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The sight of the tall jock made guilt creep up on you. Asshole, you’d baled on him yesterday with no explanation. He hates you, he was the first person here to actually try and make you feel comfortable and you tossed him to the side, for what? A fucking book. 

“Hey” You were sapped out of your thoughts by the boy, he was walking over to you and… Smiling. Why was he smiling? He didn't owe you a smile, hell if anything you owed him an apology. “What's wrong?” Oh god he wasn't making this any better, he looks worried. You’re making him worry because you’ve decided to randomly wear your heart on your sleeve, fucking selfish. 

“Nothing, um-” Might as well tell him what happened, he’s gonna find out eventually, everyone is. “Some girls found my body.” 

“Oh shit” It was clear he didn’t know what to say to that. It was easier to comfort someone when you’d actually been given the chance to know even a little bit about them other than their obsessive drug use. 

“Yeah” You didn’t really know what to say either, leaving an awkward silence. “So um basketball?” Really, basketball. That's the best save you could come up with? Small talk definitely wasn't your specialty. 

“Uh yeah.” He let out a small chuckle. “I practice every Monday through Thursday morning. Even though I don’t change, it still helps to pretend to stay in shape. Makes things feel more normal.” Was he trying to offer you advice? 

“Cool” You gave him a tight lipped smile. Nothing felt normal, waking up, going to bed, hell even the halls felt weird. Haunted, not just by you but by all the other students that had lost their lives here. How the hell was this school still open? You didn’t know the statistics for school deaths but you’re pretty sure this isn't normal. 

“You wanna give it a go?” He gestures back to the gym or as he would probably call it ‘the court’.

“Basketball?” There was clearly a bit of a shocked look on your face. “Oh no i don't play.” Sweaty bodies bumping into each other while passing around a ball sounds like literal hell. Still not as bad as being stuck in high school forever but definitely not a pastime activity. 

“Oh come on. It’ll be fun, I swear.” Why's he being so nice? He doesn't even know you. What the fuck does he want? 

“I don't know if it's really a good idea.” You gave him a tight lipped smile. “I'm not exactly what you would call coordinated.” 

“You don't have to be coordinated, just throw the ball around.” You couldn’t tell if he was trying to get you to loosen up or if he was just lonely, needing someone other than Charley to practice with. 

“I’m not the greatest with balls.” You cracked a fake smile. If he wanted you to act like everything was normal what better way to do it than with dirty humor. Now that was a specialty. The slightly stunned look on his face almost made you genuinely laugh. It was only there for a split second before he let out an awkward laugh. You couldn’t tell if you were making this better or worse, either way you were already here, talking to a dead guy. One of the most normal things that's happened in the last few days. 

“A smile looks good on you.” The past few days have been filled with nothing but self  loath and deflection. Not allowing your brain to process your situation. You know you’re dead, you know how but not why. That's the clarity you've been running on. But hey, at least he couldn’t see through the plastered on smile you’d spent years perfecting, right? 

“She only comes around every once in a while when I'm in a good mood.” Again with the lies. Tell him it's fake, tell him it's all a performance for everyone's entertainment. 

“Maybe I should try to put you in a good mood more often.” Before you could reply he threw the ball towards you, out of instinct you caught it with two hands, an unimpressed look on your face as his smile grew. “See? You’re a natural.” 

You forced out a small laugh. “A natural or traumatized?” 

“Bad dodgeball experiences?” 

“Older brother.” He let out a hum of recognition. You threw the ball back to him and watched him catch it with precision. “You haven’t lived until you've had a box of cereal fly past your head. Had to learn how to catch.” He gave you a bit of a side eye. “Sorry, was ‘lived’ a bad choice of words?” 

“Nah, but why a cereal box?” The smile on his face was real. It made you feel guilty for having to fake yours. You’d been needing so desperately to just be around someone and now you are but you still feel empty. Why isn't it enough? Fucking greedy.

“I don't know, guessing it was the first thing he saw.” The memory was oddly comforting. You still remember the confusion you felt when a box of cereal just barely missed you before smacking against the wall of your kitchen. It broke out into a shadow boxing match. 

“I never got that experience, only child.” There was a mixed look on his face. Almost sad but the smile was still there. 

“Consider yourself lucky. Me and him would beat the shit out of each other, steal each other's snacks, and I would steal all his hoodies.”

He laughs. “Sounds about rights.” Your conversation was interrupted by the sound of sirens  approaching. Both your heads turn to wear there coming from, though it was useless, you were both staring at a wall. 

“Fuck.” This is it, everyone’s gonna know. Nothings ever going to be the same. You’re officially dead. 

“You probably shouldn't go out there.” You didn’t look at him but in your peripheral you saw him turn back to you, concern and sympathy written all over his face. It doesn't make sense, he has no reason to feel bad for you. So why does he?

“I wasn't planning on it.” It’s your fault, you’re the reason you’re here and now you’re making some poor sweet boy feel bad for you. You don’t deserve his empathy. Even in death you’re fucking selfish, just get over yourself and suck it up. “Shut up.” 

“Excuse me?” It took you a second to process what just happened. You finally look back at him but he’s not mad, he’s smiling and a little confused. You know there's sheer terror all over your face. You can’t remember the last time you’d accidentally talked to them out loud in front of someone. This really isn't helping the asshole allegations. 

“Nothing.” The fake smile on your face is completely gone. How do you explain that without looking like an asshole or a lunatic? Fucking stupid. 

“It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.” He's laughing, whys he laughing? Is your insanity funny to him? You’re suffering and he's laughing. Who cares? He’s not offended so just take it as a win. At least you didn’t slip up in front of some one like Rhonda, she would have chewed your head off. 

“Uh-” Change the subject. Something, anything. Fuck just pull together something. The familiar tightening began to form in your chest. Fuck Fuck Fuck. Without a word you ran to the door, pushing it open full with all the strength you could muster. What the fuck was that? He probably thinks you’re crazy. You just had to go and ruin a moment of peace by opening your big fucking mouth. You could hear the sound of his hurried footsteps following you into the almost empty halls. 

“Hey, wait up.” He was approaching fast and you couldn’t bring yourself to run away from him. Your legs felt numb, you didn’t understand why. What the fucks happening? It’s not the first time you’d slipped up in front of someone but this felt different. This is a stranger you’re being forced to spend the rest of your existence with. There's no escape, no wear to run. That little group is all you have now and you already fucked up. 

You felt his hand touch your solder but didn’t stop speed walking. He kept up a steady pace as he began to walk beside you. “What happened?” You stayed silent, knowing if you spoke it would come out wrong. “Come on, it's okay.” Okay? Nothing about anything is okay. It’s all fucked, your entire existence is fucked. “It’s not a big deal.” Your movements came to a halt. “It is a big deal Wally!” It came out angry, not angry at him but at yourself. When the hell did you get so soft? You let it slip out so easily without a second thought. Such an amateur move. 

He looked taken aback by your tone. “Okay, I don’t know why you’re mad but I'm sorry.” He thinks he did something wrong because of you, because you couldn't control your anger. You could feel the guilt grow on your face, features distorting with your fucked up emotions. 

“No, no, don't apologize. You did nothing wrong.” Stupid, so fucking stupid. You just couldn't stop yourself, could you? It’s not that hard to keep your mouth shut and be normal. 

“I don’t know exactly what's going on in that head of yours but you can talk to me. You can talk to any of us, we’ve all been there.” He tried to give you a comforting smile but it just made you want to break down in tears. What did you do to deserve this kindness? 

“That's really sweet Wally, but I have to go.” You pointed behind you down the hall. Truth be told all you want to do is curl into a ball and forget the world around you. There's probably a gurney dragging your dead body out of the locker rooms right now. Soon you will just be a memory to those you care about. An example for your future nieces and nephews about the dangers of drugs. A whisper in the halls. A ghost. 

“Okay, but um, movie night?” He had a hopeful look on his face. You didn’t understand why everyone was so adamant about you being involved in group activities. 

“Yeah, I'll be there. You can pick out the movie, I know I'm supposed to but I'd prefer if you just did it.” Great, now you have to drag yourself to group later too. 

“Perfect, see you later I guess.” He clearly wanted to say something. 

“Yeah.” You gave him an awkward tight lipped smile. As you turn to walk away you can still feel his eyes burning into the back of your head until you hit the corner, finally away from his watchful eyes. 

There’s a bathroom on this hall that you run to, needing somewhere to be alone with your thoughts. It’s funny, you were praying to be around someone earlier so you wouldn’t be able to think so much yet here you are. Hiding away, alone again. 

You paced around, still trying to wrap your head around everything. Your brain never even gave you a chance to process. You’re dead, what the fuck does that even mean? You were basically a zombie before that fateful day in the locker room, so why does it matter? Invisible or not you still have no purpose. Nothings changed, you’re still you. Still you, those words would normally comfort someone in your position but they made you want to vomit, to scream, cry, break everything in sight. Being you isn't a good thing. You’re broken, a mess, lost…. So what the fuck does being dead even mean? 

You let out a frustrated cry as you tuned, delivering an angry punch to the wall beside you. For a split second you couldn’t move your fingers, presumably breaking them before they reset. It didn't even hurt, you were shaking with anger and fear, to the point where you couldn’t feel anything else. 

Nothing made sense, it was all just distorted in your mind as you let your back hit the wall, sliding down on it so you could sit on the floor. Two broken fingers got you into this mess in the first place. Funny how history repeats itself.

Pt.6

October Sun

summary: it had been settled. everything had gone to shit and then everyone had had front row seats to watch how that'd happened. back in the theater, no one had known what to say, how to describe what they'd seen, how to reconcile that whoever had been behind the circumstances haunting Split River High could've been anyone.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.27

"Love this for me."

Charley scanned the area, confused, disoriented, nervous. We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto, he shuddered, wrapping his jacket tighter around himself as he began to trek in the direction he hoped would take him back to civilization.

This wasn't how he imagined finally being free from the school. Lost in the middle of nowhere, dense trees as far as the eye could see. There weren't many wooded areas around Split River. A couple of parcels here and there, wilderness parks, but not like this, and he had to wonder if the forest was actually native to the land.

Finally, he found a trodden path in the dirt and decided to follow it. What did he have to lose? There was no danger. He couldn't die twice. Food, sleep, shelter weren't required despite he and the others keeping up those habits in the afterlife at Mr. Martin's guidance. Still, what you'd mentioned on the rooftop the night before—about how your great aunt or your mother could blast his soul into oblivion—made Charley paranoid.

What if he'd landed here just for an evil witch to use his ghost for some nefarious plan to make her young and beautiful again? He'd seen Hocus Pocus. And it didn't matter that he was technically too old for that spell to work. He was stuck at 17 until he moved on and he wasn't keen on having a wicked witch absorb him for the sake of vanity.

Which, okay, Charley reasoned, sounded ridiculous, but one couldn't blame him. After a tornado had manifested in the theater and he'd been transported to some creepy, dark forest alone; he wasn't going to criticize himself for the insane theories his brain churned out.

He followed the path until it brought him to a winding, unpaved road. Turning left, he trailed down the edge of it for what felt like hours. It'd started raining halfway through his journey to wherever the hell, and night had fallen before the road widened into a bare plot of land stretched in front of a dilapidated farmhouse, its shadow a fanged monster raking toward Charley's ankles.

"Oh, that's not freaky at all." Charley muttered, quickly glancing over his shoulder and debating whether or not to go back the way he'd come. The darkness blurring the unpaved road seemed to push toward him as if discouraging him from turning around. He groaned in despair, "I hate everything about this," wanting the universe to take pity on him and return him to—God help him—the safe and familiar halls of Split River High.

It was Movie Night, he winged internally, and Wally had agreed (with conditions) to watch Ghost—shut up—and Katelynn and Bernadette were in charge of snacks which meant there'd be a smorgasbord of good options because Mr. Martin always filled the table with carrot sticks and his homemade tuna salad ("Just like my mother's! Doesn't it taste like home?"—"Why is it encased in jell-o?"—the 50s were a heinous decade, Charley thought, green around the gills at the memory).

Today was supposed to be a good day. A day of progress. A day of togetherness. He and Rhonda and Wally, and now Maddie, a united front against the mystery of Maddie's.....well, not "death", Charley supposed, because you'd debunked that. But against the mystery of Maddie's situation, nonetheless. Except he was here, wet and cold and lost; an Addams Family-esque farmhouse towering in front of him like a bad omen and no one to turn to for answers.

"It can't get worse," Charley sighed, about to ascend the first of the front steps.

As his foot set down on the wood, the screen door creaked and someone emerged, using their back to push the door open so they could exit. When they turned around, Charley nearly jumped for joy. He knew that face! That was your face! Your face... Charley reeled back. Your face was coated in blood. You were coated in blood. Hair, hands, jeans.

"What happened!?" He questioned, pitching toward you to scan you for injuries. You didn't seem to be in any pain, not favoring a leg or curling over a gut wound. Beneath the thin red film on your face, Charley couldn't spot a gash, a cut, a scrape, nothing. He panned to the front door, speculating in startled flashes what lay beyond it. The color drained from his face as he thought about it and he decided, no thanks, he didn't want—didn't need—to know.

The most unnerving part, however, wasn't the Evil Dead amount of blood on you. It was how your eyes stared ahead, completely blank; the same dissociative gaze Charley had witnessed on Emilio's face in the wake of Charley's death. Like Emilio's mind had evaporated while his brain repressed every bad thing that'd ever happened just to keep him upright.

Charley wanted to ask if you were okay but the words lodged in his throat when he finally noticed that you had something—someone—bundled in your arms. Small, child-sized (probably because it was a child, Charley, he chided himself), wearing Spiderman rainboots and a Looney Tunes sweater. A queasy sensation flushed through him as he watched you fumble down the stairs, gaze fixed ahead, arms fastened around the little body.

When Charley shifted to follow you, the screen door creaked again then slammed closed. Another person hurried out, clomping down the steps to chase after you. Small. Child-sized. Spiderman rainboots and a Looney Tunes sweater. Charley's expression twisted with sorrow. He bit the inside of his lip as he turned and walked beside the little boy who contemplated his boots as he squelched through the mud.

"Where are we going?" The little boy asked you, stomping into and out of a puddle.

You answered, "I'm taking you home," your voice light as a feather and far, far away.

"Will mommy be mad at me?" The little boy paused, big green eyes on your back, worried that he'd be in trouble for...for what? Charley couldn't discern. For dying?

"No." You said, dragged your feet with effort, your Converse not made for soft, sinking ground. "She'll know what to do. She'll make it all better, Aiden, I swear." On the last word, your voice cracked, but your face didn't change, your gaze still distant.

Charley kept pace with the little boy, Aiden, until you came to the end of the unpaved road. You were shaking, probably freezing, soaked to the bone and in shock. The unpaved road intersected a tarred section of old, narrow highway, a rusted mailbox keeping vigil in the tall grass that lined the shoulder. Part of the name was scraped away by time and weather. Still, Charley could make it out: Meheive. A name Charley had had hammered into his skull in Grade 7 History. The name of one of the four industry men who'd founded Split River in 1850.

"Oh," He commented mildly, "It gets freakier. Fantastic." Then, as he lifted his foot to continue after you, he simply couldn't. He tried again, again, again, walked in place as if on a treadmill while an invisible force kept him at bay. "Never mind," He gulped, "Now it's freakier." At least he wasn't being shot back to the cafeteria at speed, he mused glumly when he took the time to feel the identical vibrations he felt when he got too close to the one around the school.

Slanting his attention to the side, he saw Aiden standing alone, face pinched, lower lip trembling and eyes filled with tears. "Sissy May, wait... I can't follow you..." He stuttered several breaths, hands balled into fists at his sides. "Sissy May!"

You didn't turn around. "It'll be okay, Aiden. Mom will fix it. She'll know what to do." Charley heard you murmur, dreamlike, detached, as you began to walk along the shoulder of the highway, adjusting Aiden's weight in your arms. "She'll fix it..."

Charley came up beside Aiden, watching you blend into the dark the further away you got. Aiden sniffled, squeaked before he coughed out a sob. He craned his neck to look up at Charley in devastation. Briefly, Charley was surprised though that settled into sympathy the longer Aiden blinked those green eyes up at him.

"I don't want to be alone," Aiden whimpered and took Charley's hand, his grip limp, his fingers tiny.

There was nothing to say to that. Charley didn't want Aiden to be alone either, and if he had to stay with Aiden for eternity, he would. He knelt down and pulled Aiden into a hug, his voice wet as he said, "You aren't alone, buddy," the way he would've comforted his younger cousin, Luca.

Unfortunately, the moment the words slipped out of him, Charley was snatched away and dragged through the farmhouse door.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Where Charley couldn't follow, Ajay did. Down the shoulder of the unlit highway, stomach rolling as he observed how you swayed and stumbled as you pressed onward, Aiden's dead weight becoming more and more difficult to manage. A car had stopped, a woman had called out to you, and Ajay had heard her on the phone with the police, asking for help.

It was as if you hadn't heard her. Ajay doubted you had, the state you were in, mumbling gentle promises to your brother as you carried him home. "Mom will know what to do, Aiden..."

Twenty minutes came and went before an ambulance and two squad cars screeched to a halt meters in front of you, lights flashing, red blue, red blue, red blue. When the EMTs tried to take Aiden from you, you put up a fight; kicked, gnashed, snarled, screamed. Not words, just noise, like a provoked animal. Deputy Baxter managed to get you in a submissive hold so an EMT could sedate you before he helped settle you into a stretcher. Strapped you in, just in case, the corners of his mouth severely turned down and his eyes shuttered to conceal the heartbreak Ajay had caught a glimmer of.

"Take them to St. Vincent's." Deputy Baxter instructed the ambulance driver. "I'll call their mother." He moved on to order the second unit that'd arrived with him to follow the ambulance, that he would check the road, "For anything that'll tell us what the hell happened here."

"Noah, are you sure you want to do it alone? If someone's responsible, they could still be out there. They could be armed." Deputy Hayes voiced her concern through the passenger-side window. She was new, too new to understand a protocol had been established between Deputy Baxter and Sheriff Stallow when it came to your family. A grandfathered in whatever it takes that often involved doing things off-book.

Deputy Baxter shook his head and reassured, "I'm just going to see what I can find along the road. If anything comes up, I'll call it in." He straightened and peered down the highway in the direction you'd obviously come from, a deep-seated foreboding frosting beneath his skin.

He was at a crossroads, his gut told him. Something terrible waited for him in the dark and whatever choice he made to deal with it would change his life forever. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. He just prayed to God that he'd still be able to be there for his own little boy in the after. That he'd have the chance to hug Xavier and tell him the world might not be safe, but his dad will always be there to protect him.

In the side mirror of his vehicle, Deputy Baxter stared at the retreating image of the ambulance and squad car as they blared down the highway toward the town. Once the sound of the sirens faded, he shifted the gear into drive, gravel crunching under the tires, and he drove to the only building in the area for miles.

Once Deputy Baxter was gone, Ajay vanished through the farmhouse door.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Question Five.

Does the Monster die?

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon's eyes flew open and he jolted upright, waking abruptly in a cold sweat. The sky was dark outside his window, his room pitched black, and his mom was tugging at his shirt. He barely registered her words, you told the police you'd return the phone tonight, get up, as she fussed over him, fuming, lecturing him in Tagalog as she switched on the overhead light and pinned him with a strict expression.

He scrubbed his face to wake himself up. Dragged his hands through his hair, eyes drifting to his closet. He could've sworn... Hadn't there been...? The door was open and, apart from the two rails of clothes and the shoe rack, it was empty.

"Hurry up, iho! Before your father gets home." His mom commanded before she turned on her heel and left the room.

In English, Simon responded, "I'm going, I'm going..." and rose from his bed. He felt weak, exhausted despite having apparently slept through the day. Again, his gaze settled on his closet as if the person who'd been crying in there had just tucked themselves in the corner and would pop out any second now that the coast was clear.

But nothing happened.

Taking a deep breath, Simon stood and treaded to his closet. Just to make sure; just to see if it had really all been a dream. There was nothing inside to indicate anyone had been hiding there. No displaced clothes to suggest Simon had shoved them aside to get a better look at the little boy who'd quivered beside the shoe rack. No puddle from the rain that had dripped from the little boy's hair and Spiderman rainboots. No scuff marks in the carpet. No mud. No little boy.

"She's gonna hurt him," The little boy wailed into Simon's hip. "She's gonna take him and she's gonna hurt Sissy!"

Simon tripped backward, away from the closet, breath suddenly ragged as the memory flooded his mind. Because it had to be that. A memory. He'd had vivid dreams before, but never like that. He could still feel the little boy's tight grip around his waist, could still feel the wet and cold of the little boy's body through his Looney Tunes sweater when Simon had instinctually returned the embrace.

"She wants t'take them!" The little boy sniffed thickly, "You gotta help! You can't let her!" And then he added as if he'd been reprimanded enough times by his mommy, imploring "Pleeease!"

"Who are you talking about?" Simon asked. Leaned back and crouched so he was eye-level with the little boy, his hands holding the little boy's boney shoulders, "Who's going to get hurt?"

Simon grabbed his sweater and his car keys, calling out, "I'll be back soon," to his mother who'd installed herself in front of Wheel of Fortune. He had to get to the school. He had to see Maddie. To tell her what he'd dreamt or prophesized or hallucinated because, guess what, he'd apparently graduated from unwitting medium to Nostradamus.

As he trotted down the front walkway, he checked his phone. 7 missed calls from Nicole. 2 missed calls from Mathilda. 3 texts from Nicole asking the same question—are you okay?—and a novel from Mathilda that detailed the lessons he'd missed and what he'd have to make up over the weekend, but don't worry, I'll help you. And 1 text from you. Short and sweet, sent that morning just after Simon had returned home from the police station.

"We found something to get Mr. A. I'll meet you at the bus stop when you get here."

Simon hoped it wasn't too late. That you'd stayed behind to wait for him even though he hadn't answered you. Unlikely, but he tried to remain optimistic, even as he took a moment to collect himself once behind the wheel of his car. That dream...it lingered like a bruise.

The little boy's voice stuttered through rough breaths, "Sh-she said because M-Maddie's gone, she needs s-someone else now and that she still wants Sissy. But she can't do it w-without trapping more people."

Simon started the car and pulled into the road.

"What do you mean, 'gone'? You mean because Maddie died?" Simon pushed, but the little boy wasn't listening, sobbing about 'him' and 'Sissy' and how they were in danger. Simon grabbed the little boy's face between his palms, soft but firm, and god, his cheeks were so cold. He looked the boy straight in the eye, "What can't 'she' do without trapping more people?"

He rolled down the window to let the fresh air soothe his anxiety.

Eventually, the little boy quieted though tears continued to stream down his face, "She can't have a new body." He said in a little voice. "Now she needs more people because Maddie got away."

And what the gentlest fuck did that mean?

Simon still didn't know who the 'Sissy' and 'him' were that the little boy had referred to. The little boy had been too distressed to divulge their names, talking as if Simon should already know everything. Just 'Sissy' and 'him'. 'Sissy' and 'him' and Maddie and someone named Janet. Did Simon know a Janet? He wracked his brain, trying to summon the names of everyone in his class who could have a connection to Maddie's death. There was a Jessica and a Jennifer and a Jayden. No Janet.

Then there was the matter of 'she' wanting a new body. Because that was sane. And impossible. Right...? Fuck, what if Maddie's death had been some nutcase's idea of a ritual sacrifice. What if another teenage girl was about to be murdered because, lo and behold, magic isn't real and Maddie just died instead of ceding her body.

The devil on Simon's shoulder quipped, "But ghosts are real," which, fair. If ghosts were real, surely they weren't the only eldritch phenomenon to exist in the world. Maybe there were cursed mummies or body snatching aliens out there scheming to take over America via its youth. No child left behind. Jesus Christ. Simon was spiraling, brain spitting random images of every creature feature he'd ever seen at him. Had the little boy been trying to warn Simon about mummies? Aliens? Was. it. aliens!?

As he stopped at a pedestrian crosswalk, he stared—definitely too intensely—at the young woman who passed in front of his car. Like he could see straight to her bones and determine whether or not she was really human. The woman picked up her pace, shoulders up, head down, and folded her leather jacket tighter around her.

Don't be suspicious, Simon, he admonished himself, ashamed of his behavior, eyes darting to his lap until the woman was safely on the other side of the road. "What even is my life anymore?" He wallowed. Ghosts and Mystery Inc. side-quests and pinning crimes on teachers. He felt he'd lived a hundred lifetimes in the last week and was seriously considering becoming a hermit the minute Maddie moved on.

There wouldn't be much reason to stick around after that anyway...

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Mina Volkov hadn't left the theater since 1987. She was a looper. She performed the same tasks every day, from morning to night to morning. She didn't sleep. She didn't eat—except for the paper bag lunch she'd brought with her the day she'd died. She didn't stray. Mina had to make sure that what had happened to her wouldn't happen to someone else.

There was safety in her loop. Not just for the living students she protected through her hard work, but for herself. Her loop allowed her mind to remain clear, focused entirely on the task at hand. She didn't have to think or reflect or question why her soul had lingered after being squashed by a stage light. Rhonda had called it denial when she'd visited Mina a week after Mina's death. Rhonda had been sizing Mina up, prodding and poking to see how Mina would react.

Mina had simply gone about her safety checks and Rhonda had eventually gotten bored. And had never come back.

Sometimes, her loop veered off-course. Sometimes Mr. Martin came to check on her. Just to say hi. Never to invite her to those stupid meetings he hosted in the gym. The ones Ajay attended and would tell Mina about later when they picnicked on the stage or between kisses in the green room.

She liked Ajay. He was kind and thoughtful, and he respected her loop. He didn't complain when she prioritized double-checking the lighting cables and tightening ropes and cordage for the dropdown scenery. He'd simply sit and talk to her. Recite poetry or passages from books she never intended to read. Ajay was smart. Ajay was handsome. Ajay was...

Ajay was comatose. Slumped on the floor along with the others, his face, like theirs, twisted in anguish. Whatever measures Mina used to wake him up didn't work and she had no idea how to help. But she knew she needed to. Not because New Girl had brought Mina flowers. Or because Hawaiian Shirt Man had caused her so many headaches since the start of the school year and they'd found something to make him stop banging around under the stage. But because Ajay needed Mina to be brave.

He needed help and she was going to help him. Which meant Mina had to leave the theater. She had to find Mr. Martin.

Though Ajay often thought Mina didn't listen when he spoke, he was wrong. She held onto every word like a treasure that she'd tuck away in her heart and savor in the moments she was alone. Mr. Martin took his privacy in the fallout shelter in the basement. Mina had been there before she'd died. Several times, in fact. It'd been an opening night ritual conducted an hour before curtain. The cast and crew piled downstairs and hid in the fallout shelter to pass around a spliff.

No, Mina hadn't partaken, much too responsible, but she'd wanted to participate in some way even if that was just being there. She'd wanted to feel like part of the group when she'd so often felt like an outsider the actors and other crew members made fun of, "for being so snooty and uptight, God, Mina, chill out."

Standing slowly, Mina regarded the theater door. Her heart slammed against her ribs, palms clammy as she tightened and loosened her fists. A comforting motion to calm her nerves as she stepped carefully to the door and placed her hand on the exit bar.

Mina hadn't left the theater since 1987. But today, she would.

For Ajay.

She spilled into the hall, the world spinning in her panic, and took off at speed to the other side of the school. Down two flights of stairs, through the door that led to the basement.

Most of the basement had been bricked off which had narrowed the hallway, making it feel like a catacomb. Poorly lit and spooky. The fallout shelter was at the far end, directly below the gym. Its vault door was open as Mr. Martin usually kept it. A practical solution given how regularly he had to come and go during office hours.

It hadn't been his idea originally. No. It'd been hers. The woman currently speaking through the janitor's mouth as she stared Mr. Martin down.

"I've had someone canvas the area and several others every night since that traitorous little bitch escaped." Mr. South stated, "There's no sign of her."

Helplessly, Mr. Martin explained for the second time, "I don't know what you want me to do, Amelia. I've done everything you asked me. I'm doing what I can to keep the kids present, like you said, and I need to concentrate on that. I've already noticed a shift in sentient ones since Maddie joined us."

Mr. South—Amelia—snarled, "I'm not asking you to participate in a search and seize, Everett. I simply want you to tell me where that conniving piece of shit would have gone! She confided in you, you told me that. So, tell. me. where she's most likely to go!"

Mr. Martin shook his head, a cowardly expression miring his face, "I've told you everything I know, Amelia, please. I've given you her notes, her journal. Every piece of information I had is already in your hands."

Quite unexpectedly, a frightened voice interrupted from the vault door, "Mr. Martin?"

Mr. Martin whipped his head to the side, his eyes going wide in panic when he saw Mina stood just over the threshold, inside the fallout shelter. She looked ashen. Scared. Shaking like a leaf in the wind. Her brown eyes slid away from Mr. Martin's face to rest on Mr. South for a second before returning to Mr. Martin.

Mr. Martin swallowed, opened his mouth to say something, anything to explain why he was mid-conversation with the live and well school janitor, when suddenly it didn't matter anymore. Mr. Martin choked as he watched Mina glance down her body. Her chest seared like paper in a candle flame. She looked back up, fear contorting into betrayal, before she quietly burned away into oblivion.

Unable to reconcile what he'd witnessed, Mr. Martin merely stared at the spot Mina had just been standing, expression slack in horror. His chest rose and fell heavily, "Why?" he rasped, and it took every ounce of self-preservation not to lash out.

Behind him, Amelia lowered Mr. South's hand, scoffing, "Oh, don't look so sad, Everett. She didn't feel a thing," but Mr. Martin didn't believe it. Still, he was too intimidated to argue. He knew what Amelia was capable of and he didn't want to be on the wrong end of her wrath.

Virtuously, Amelia commented, "You'll have to find me another to replace that one. So, two more, I suppose,. And we need someone to step in for Janet," breezy, as if she'd killed nothing more than a house fly. "And soon. We can't have any more delays." In Mr. South's lumbering body, she picked across the floor like a debutante, "Time is running out." She finished, already out the vault door and returning Mr. South's body to the storage room Mr. South used as his office.

Alone in the fallout shelter, Mr. Martin buckled to his knees.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Operating with half his mind still on aliens and mummies, Simon waited in the bus shelter. He was grateful you hadn't left, had responded to the text he'd sent when he'd arrived at the school: "See you in 5," you'd told him. At the metal crack of the side entrance opening, Simon stood up from the bench and faced the school. He frowned when he saw who emerged.

Steps uneven, Xavier exited the school. He stopped when he noticed Simon, stood still like a deer in headlights. Damn, Xavier looked like his whole world had been turned upside down. More so than it already had been, that was. Pale and bug eyed and jittery. They watched each other for a moment. Simon nodded his head in greeting. Xavier didn't return the gesture.

Instead, he lifted the hood of his sweater and turned toward the parking lot, skulking off with his head down. A minute or so later, the door opened again and this time it was you. And Maddie. Together. Followed by a tall guy in a varsity jacket, a girl in a newsboy cap, and a boy with frosted tips wearing a Canadian tuxedo. The trio of strangers stayed by the door to watch as you and Maddie—together—approached Simon.

When you and Maddie were within earshot, Simon said, "Okay. What the hell is this?"

You at least had the decency to look apologetic.

"So you can see ghosts." Simon stated, irritated.

"So can you." You shot back, but it didn't sound like your heart was in it. In fact, you looked just as rattled as Xavier had when he'd come out of the school.

Although he wanted to chew you out for having lied to him, Simon wanted to make sure, "Are you alright?" His demeanor softened as he took you in. Puffy eyes, flushed cheeks, red nose. You'd been crying. And Simon would never be angry enough to let that trump being there for a friend who needed him. He bundled you into a hug, one hand rubbing your back, and asked Maddie with his eyes what was wrong.

In his periphery, he saw Varsity straighten and move to take a step forward. His friends each grabbed an arm and appeared to shut whatever idea he'd had down because he shifted back before shaking them off.

Urgently, Maddie told Simon they'd discuss everything, "Later," and ushered him back into the bus shelter. He kept an arm slung around your shoulders, a shoulder to lean on, though had to release you when you decided to lean against the interior glass. Simon took what was becoming his usual seat on the concrete base and Maddie folded herself onto the bench.

When neither you nor Maddie spoke, Simon took the lead, "Mr. Anderson totally played us," he began, glancing between you and Maddie. "I mean, the cops are convinced I helped Maddie run away."

Maddie immediately defended, "Seriously? That's—"

"I know. They only let me come back here because I promised I'd get Anderson's phone and turn it in."

You cleared your throat, "Okay, well, before you do that..."

Maddie continued where you trailed off, "I think we might've found something that can help maybe keep the cops off your back." She fished something out of her back pocket and handed it to you which you, in turn, handed to Simon.

Stunned, Simon gawked at the piece of paper, eyes darting between it, you, and Maddie several times before finally resting on the paper. "We're just...not going to acknowledge how insane this is?" He sputtered, flapping the paper to indicate what he meant.

"Just go with it for now, Si." Maddie implored, "Let's take down Mr. Anderson first."

"Yeah," Simon agreed and examined the paper. It was a receipt for new band uniforms. He pulled out his phone when Maddie informed him he'd have to call the company the receipt was from and punched in the number. As the line connected, Simon cast to the three people at the school entrance. "Quick question, and not to alarm anyone, but who are they?" He asked as he waited for someone to answer the phone.

You and Maddie looked to the three people then at each other, Simon, the three people, each other, and ended with open-mouthed stares at Simon.

"They're dead, aren't they?" Simon deadpanned. You and Maddie nodded. Simon kissed his teeth. "Of course they are."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

After all was said and done, you, Maddie, and Simon had watched Wally—the tallest of the three ghosts Simon had seen outside—drape his varsity jacket over your shoulders and stamp a kiss to your head. Simon had watched Wally hold you protectively in the wake of Simon's impassioned announcement to the table of Split River High staff.

He'd heard Wally whisper comforting words and stroke your cheek with his thumb and, wow, you hadn't been joking about saving yourself for the hot ghost on campus.

It was a mindfuck, to be sure, but Simon adjusted. Or he was in shock. Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe. Wally had mentioned to the group at large as they huddled in the hallway that he and Charley—Canadian tuxedo—had needed to go lest Mr. Martin—whoever that was—get suspicious of their absence at Movie Night. Which could've been dead dove, do not eat, or could've been ghost code for watching the living go to the bathroom.

"Dude, we don't do that." Wally had cringed, offended.

Charley had raised his brows in consideration, "Well, not all of us."

Simon was beginning to double-down on putting together a personal bestiary à la Teen Wolf just to aid him in navigating this shitshow.

Afterward, you, Simon, and Maddie had holed away in a classroom to watch Mr. Anderson be escorted into the back of a squad car. In a line at the window. Discussing in solemn tones what you and Maddie had seen in the theater. How it related to Mr. Anderson. How whoever was behind Maddie's death—no, not death, Simon emended, since you'd brought him up to speed. How whoever was behind Maddie's missing body could be literally anyone. That was if her Maddie's circumstances were related to the terrors you and she had experienced in the theater earlier.

"What do you think's gonna happen?" Maddie asked faintly as she watched the deputy closed the back door of the squad car.

"He'll be questioned." Simon said. "Probably arrested."

Angry, Maddie replied, "But not for abduction. Not for bodily injury." A weighted pause. "I swear to God, if he did this to me over some stupid band uniforms..."

His voice tinged with hope, "Maybe he'll confess."

"Or," Maddie offered the alternative, "You'll hand that phone over to the cops and we'll never know who he was working with. Or why he said he gave me money... I'll never know what really happened to me."

Maddie turned. As soon as she settled, you shuffled closer to her on the windowsill and put a supportive arm around her shoulders. Fuck if that didn't make Simon's heart ache. He wanted so badly to be the one to do that for her. To be there for her. To comfort her.

"We'll figure it out, Mads." You reassured, though your eyes still looked haunted.

"At least for now," Maddie said, gazing up at Simon, "some of the heat will be off you."

Her words struck Simon's soul. After everything she'd been through, she cared about what happened to him, and it made him yearn to show her how much that meant to him. Seeing you in Wally's varsity jacket gave him an idea. Slowly, he peeled off his sweater and hung it over the back of a chair. It wasn't enough, but at least he could do this.

"What are you doing?" Maddie asked.

Voice rough with emotion, Simon said, "I was thinking... I can't hug you, but my sweater can."

You hopped down from the windowsill and positioned yourself between Maddie and Simon, voice pitched just as low as Simon's as if not wanting to disturb the somber atmosphere that had befallen the classroom.

"I can do you one better." You said with a small smile and placed one hand on Maddie's shoulder. Your held out your other hand to Simon which he took, curious as to what you were going to do. It seemed Maddie knew because she came closer and then—god—she wrapped her arms around Simon and held him tight.

Without a second thought, Simon returned her embrace with his free arm, putting everything he had into it. All the grief, all the solace, all the love. He hiccupped a weak sound of overwhelm and pulled Maddie as close to himself as he could. She felt warm. Alive. Like she was right there in her body.

With wet eyes, Simon peeked up at you, "Thank you."

"You're my friend, Simon." You said easily, "I'd do anything for you in a heartbeat."

He dragged you into the hug; you and he and Maddie holding each other, leaning on each other, needing each other. And for that small segment of time, the weight of the world didn't feel so heavy.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Mr. Martin was surprised when Rhonda marched into the gym and pulled up a seat. It wasn't the first unusual thing Mr. Martin had noticed of his Support Group that night, though.

Something felt off. Ajay had been morose when he'd entered, but Bernadette and Katelynn had puppy piled him on the stack of gym mats and were comforting him with cuddles. Always upbeat and charismatic Wally had been reserved until halfway through the film. Perhaps he was truly taken by Demi Moore's performance, though Mr. Martin suspected there was more to it.

Charley hadn't made any sarcastic comebacks to Mr. Martin's purposefully cheesy jokes about the film before Mr. Martin had started it, either. Keeping an eye on Charley and Wally, Mr. Martin had entertained the idea that the two had had a falling out. Teenagers were fickle beings. Even those in their forties and fifties.

Of course, Mr. Martin could be seeing things that weren't there. Reading too much into every small shift in behavior because he'd been on edge since Amelia's impromptu visit. A shiver ran through him, cold as ice, as he recalled what he'd witnessed and what he'd been ordered to do.

Banishing the memory, he forced a smile to his face, "Rhonda. You usually boycott movie night."

Rhonda stiffened in her seat, gaze fixed determinedly on the screen even if it seemed to go against everything she believed in to do it.

"Is everything alright?" Mr. Martin probed when she didn't say anything. His first priority was always his students' wellbeing, no matter what Amelia felt about it.

Rhonda took her time to answer, but eventually, "I've been here for sixty years. Sixty graduations," She explained, jaw tense, as if her words were being forced out of her. Rhonda rarely shared and, when she did, she'd smother the sentiment beneath myriad barbed wire remarks and threatening stares so no one would examine what she'd revealed too closely.

As Rhonda disclosed what had motivated her to join Movie Night, Mr. Martin heard Amelia's voice in his head, "we need someone to step in for Janet."

"—I've made my peace with it because nothing changes...but now..." Mr. Martin listened, giving Rhonda his full, undivided attention. Rhonda didn't elaborate on how her views had shifted, rather redirecting to claim, "I know I'm not always a joiner but," her voice was raw, "I gotta get outta here."

She was outright doing her damnedest to hold back tears and it shook Mr. Martin to his core. The sight made Mina's image flash in his mind, the pain and fear in her eyes as she'd silently begged Mr. Martin to help her before being disintegrated into nothingness.

When Rhonda admitted, "I'm willing to try anything," Mr. Martin was brought back to the present, Mina fading from his mind. What Rhonda said next made his smile falter, a pang of regret in his heart. There was nothing else for it, his hand forced, because everything was easier when the participants were willing. But Rhonda needed to say it right. She needed to mean it without Mr. Martin's direct interference.

And, just like that, she did.

He ignored how his gut wrenched as he heard Rhonda speak into the air, "So, whatever you did to help Janet, I want in."

Mr. Martin felt Rhonda's words vibrate through the veil, the gears shifting as the pieces on Amelia's board were recast.

Mr. Martin forced another smile. However, turning back to the screen, his smile faded completely as Mina's final moments crowded his mind again. The fear. The helplessness. One of his students...gone. His conscience kicked and screamed and berated him. Challenged him. Brought his face right up to the hundreds of mistakes he'd made leading up to Mina's permanent erasure from this earth.

He'd had no choice, a milder, more detached part of him reminded, and it's too late to undo what'd already been done. There was no going back.

All Mr. Martin could do now was offer Rhonda his bowl of popcorn and tell her, "I'm glad to hear it."

💀___________fin.____________

PART TWENTY-SIX - OCTOBER MOON

note: i will definitely be tinkering away here tomorrow 💀

Act 1 was written to The Night We Met (Slowed & Thunder Storm) by Lord Huron. Act 5 was written to You're Somebody Else by Flora Cash. finally, Act 6 was written to Willow Tree March by The Paper Kites.

i can't believe it, guys. we made it. (ignoring that i now have less that 3 weeks to accomplish Series 2 before the second season airs...) thank you everyone who's still clinging for their lives on the sides of this chaos canoe. you're all legends and i love each and every one of you to the moon and beyond 😭

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: y'all know, it ain't a thing around here anymore due to the overuse of ritual magic, some demon-summoning, and an unfortunate sacrifice that resulted in more technical issues than tumblr could handle 🔮🗡️ if you'd like to be kept up-to-date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS. we have fun here (•¯ ∀ ¯•)

No but real

My reaction to the ending of S2 of School Spirits

the core four

here's like a bunch of bts pictures of the cast of school spirits because I love them and you should too