#it deeply impacts him and drives a lot of his decisions

[mrs-stans]

Sebastian Stan, the interview: "If I met Trump I would ask him how he looks in the mirror"

The American dream, the unpredictability of Jeremy Strong, the instincts of an actor: twenty-five minutes of interview with the amazing protagonist of The Apprentice. At the cinema.

INTERVIEW by DAMIANO PANATTONI

While answering questions, Sebastian Stan approaches the webcam lens of the computer he is connected to. As if he were, in a certain sense, eliminating distances. Connected from a London hotel for our exclusive interview , he is in the midst of the promotional campaign for Ali Abbasi's The Apprentice , in which he plays none other than Donald Trump . A role, as they say, that is worth a career. An excellent performance by someone who could be considered one of the greatest contemporary actors.

The set, among other things, he shares with two other champions: Jeremy Strong in the role of fixer Roy Cohn, and Maria Bakalova who plays Ivana Trump. Sebastian Stan, for the entire twenty-four minutes of the interview (he was very generous, and that is not at all a common thing), thinks about the answers, takes a breath, weighs his voice. Like when he reflects on what the killer instinct of an actor is, given that in the film, the character of Trump himself, claims to have a deadly instinct "For me it is the truth, and how you make real what, instead, is not" .

The Apprentice: Interview with Sebastian Stan

Sebastian, how did you manage to immerse yourself so deeply in Trump’s body?

Well, I think when you play real people, fortunately there is a lot of information to draw from, and to look for inspiration. I think it almost becomes a real detective story to solve. You put things together and try to understand what drives a person, where these decisions come from. There is a technical aspect that has to be applied consistently over time. It really becomes second nature.

Ali Abbasi spoke to both her and Jeremy Strong separately before filming. What struck her most about the performance her co-star brought to the table?

The unpredictability I felt I had in what Jeremy brought to every day, and every take. As a result, I felt very alert, very alive on set. And I think I was immediately in awe. For me, it was a great parallel to the relationship we were exploring, as if I was Donald in that moment. At work, being surprised is key, that’s the best.

There is a heated political discussion in the United States around The Apprentice. Do you think that helps or hurts your film?

In the film we are talking about a man who has always believed that there is no such thing as bad publicity, and his participation in the debate only confirms that, obviously. But I think the goal was to talk about the film. And I say: even just trying to start a conversation in such a polarized environment is a victory. Everything about this film has been a victory for us, even in terms of it being almost banned from being released. Now we are talking about it and people can choose to go and see it. It is a victory, in a very scary time.

A challenge against censorship

Did you have any pressure while making it?

My experience so far has been just compliments on how good and brave I was. People felt a certain curiosity about what this film was trying to do. But I think I made a very clear choice once I decided that this is what I was going to do, that I wasn't going to let anyone or anything scare me or censor me or have an impact on how I approached the work.

How much weight did your judgment have on the character? Did you embrace reality or did you take refuge in representation?

I think there was a certain degree of actuality that you had to distance yourself from, just to get an objective point of view on the period and what was happening to these characters.

There is a very strong sequence, where Trump rapes Ivana. What was it like to shoot that?

We had an intimacy coordinator, and we followed the obvious approach, which is to make sure we were all on the same page, and how we were going to shoot the scene. Obviously, there is a certain trust, which is important between the actors. We felt that the scene, as brutal as it is, was still necessary not only for Trump's character, but also for what happened in Ivana's testimony under oath, where she talked about it.

Practical question: The sound design is amazing, capturing the chaos of New York, even though it was shot in Toronto. Was it difficult to shoot outside?

Locations are always important. We had an incredible team that did the production design and locations. We had Kasper Tuxen, the cinematographer who shot Apocalypse Now , with us . He saw the film twice and said it was the best New York film he had ever encountered!

The United States, Beyond Black and White: The Shades of a Complex Country

Trump wrote on Truth Social that the movie is false and classless. How did he react?

Unfortunately, it's not very surprising, but I'm glad he acknowledged the movie in some way, I think it shows that he really cares. If he does, it's good for us. I'm glad he did. I also want to thank him for thinking of me at 1:00 AM when he could be thinking of other more important things.

After The Apprentice, what more have you learned about the United States?

We need to continue to explore the idea of ​​the American dream, which on the one hand can be so rewarding and on the other hand can be very expensive. I think you have to look at the system in which this man, Trump, was born. You also have to look at Europe as a point of comparison. But it's not all black and white. The truth is much more gray and we have to analyze it from all angles.

I don't know if you've ever met Trump, but if you did, what would you say to him?

What would I ask him? Simple: How do you wake up and look in the mirror every day and lie to yourself so much? Tell me because I'm really curious. Do you feel anything other than self-hatred?

[incesthemes]

happy wincest wednesday!! i'm curious about what you think might happen to sam and dean's relationship in a world where they never find john in season one (eg. azazel kidnaps him to take him off the chessboard, he dies on an obscure hunt without lining up the clues well enough for s&d to follow him, etcetera). where would that major lingering question leave them? in terms of wincest, do you think john's death was necessary to "allow" them to act on their codependency, or would his absence push them together regardless?

OK please excuse any typos, i AM writing this with a cast on. anyway HAPPY WINCEST WEDNESDAY!!!!! this is such an awesome prompt, you've definitely got me thinking.

based on my understanding of seasons 1-2, john actually serves more to drive sam and dean apart than being them together, mostly in the way he serves as a symbol for sam and dean's fates, which are diametrically opposed. by pursuing john, they are pursuing the fates given to them, and those fates dictate a retelling of cain and abel: dean is supposed to kill sam, who has become a monster. it's only when they abandon john that they can avoid their destinies—which is why, in season 2, dean is successful at avoiding his fate (for the most part, starting from 2.09), but sam is not. sam, rather, is following a path he believes john would have wanted for him by continuing to hunt (he completely made this up in his head which is still so funny to me), but in reality pursuing the hunt continues to push him down the road azazel wanted for him. and this is why, during their "honeymoon" phase circa 2.10 to 2.17 (and ambiguously continued into 2.20), sam is the one driving most of the conflict, while dean takes an emotional, supportive role to reassure sam that he doesn't have to succumb to fate. dean has, in these episodes, fully abandoned his fate, while sam still clings to it and introduces doubt into dean's mind through his own self-assured convictions. and this is paralleled by dean fully abandoning his father and the duty john saddled him with, and by sam wanting to honor his father by continuing to hunt down azazel (and hunt in general).

and we see this in season 1 as well: every time john makes an appearance in some way, it furthers the plot. and the plot is sam's fate (dean's fate isn't truly introduced until season 2, and so dean exists sort of ambiguously and as a result lacks narrative agency throughout season 1; his decisions make no impact on the story and sam alone drives the plot forward). john is a symbol for azazel, functionally speaking, and azazel is a symbol for sam's fate. john is azazel is destiny. thus why sam and john are so deeply paralleled and intertwined: they all come to reflect the same thing. in this way dean is the true outsider to the conflict pertinent to the story, and he's treated as such throughout the first season. he makes his mark instead by parroting john, by becoming his mouthpiece in his absence. his own individuality is constantly pushed to the side and suppressed until 1.18 allows him to finally move forward into some semblance of personhood, which is what he needs in order to finally defy john in 1.20.

i just realized this is a lot of context and not an actual answer lmao but basically all of this to say, i don't actually think john's death was necessary for their codependency. it took root in them around 1.11, long before they actually "found" john in 1.16. and it was 1.18, an episode which had little to do with john directly, which allowed dean to break out of the mold he had forced himself into. the act of choosing each other, specifically over john (who represents fate), is what allows them to achieve codependency. the moment where they choose to exist in a codependent relationship indeed is one where john is still alive, in the season 1 finale. sam chooses dean over john, in doing so abandoning his fate, and they solidify their deeper connection. it is in fact john's death which causes sam to falter in this conviction because of his desire to honor john's memory (again by just making shit up in his head about his father. i love him), and this decision has massive ramifications throughout the rest of the season.

if, instead, they simply lost john and never found him, i think a lot of the john-generated conflict would have been avoided. and john generates a lot of conflict for someone who shows up in just a handful of episodes, because he is a symbol of destiny for both of his children, pressuring them in equal amounts but in completely different ways. without that pressure looming over their heads, i think pretty much all of the conflict in season 2 could have been avoided: sam wouldn't feel the need to keep hunting azazel despite throwing away his fate and likely wouldn't be so resistant to dean's persuasions; dean wouldn't be torn between duty to his father and duty to his brother; john's memory wouldn't have caused the problems it did in the first half of the season (especially 2.02-2.04). assuming the rest of season 1 played out roughly the same even with john's absence, it would stand to reason that they would still choose their codependency, and they would settle into some kind of fucked-up domestic bliss—probably continuing to hunt small-scale until azazel inevitably forced their hand anyway (tenacious bastard). sam giving up on his revenge quest would settle most of the enduring conflicts in season 2, and sam only doesn't do that because of john's death.

of course, this makes the assumption that abandoning john is still their active choice. i think that's a reasonable assumption to make because they had begun the process of extricating themselves from their father way, way before john ever shows up or before the end of the season where they achieve codependency. for dean this looks like rebellion, defiance against the iron grip john has around him. and for sam this looks like forgiveness, which he steadily accomplishes across season 1. by 1.20 they no longer define themselves by john but by each other, and it's a mere two episodes before they make the final plunge into each other. it has little to do with john and much more to do with themselves and their interactions, their natural conflict and their unique resolutions. giving up on finding dad seemed to already be something dean was working towards by the time john showed his face in 1.16 (he was resistant to pursuing john single-mindedly and preferred to focus on the smaller hunts, both out of deference to john and out of his own desire to save people), and sam's gradual forgiveness of john began as early as 1.08. so really it was specifically his absence that allowed them to come together, because the groundwork for their extrication began without john and it bloomed despite john. he is the axis around which they are turned, but it is the process of overcoming him which allows them to choose each other. they replace their father with their brother (and in 2.03 sam even offers to replace john very, very literally, by "filling the hole" john left behind in dean) and this replacement—literally, as their father and the man who raised them, and figuratively, as the symbol for their destinies—is the foundation of their codependency.

at the same time, this doesn't exactly look at the potential conflicts that would arise with john's absence. there would be little plot movement without him there driving them forward; they would remain stagnant, and that stagnation could disallow the blossoming of their codependency through a lack of choices and decisions. it is of course the deliberate choosing of brother over father which inevitably drives them closer—in 1.11 it's sam choosing to save dean instead of finding john; in 1.16 it's dean choosing to send john away instead of braving the world together; in 1.20 it's sam and dean both standing up to john in equal measures; in 1.21-22, it's sam choosing to let azazel escape. without john exerting pressure on them, sam and dean sit comfortably without moving, together but with a marked distance between them. which was exactly meg's plan in 1.16: they weren't moving fast enough for her liking, so she used john as bait (the three of them were mutually bait for each other, rather) to force them to make decisions.

so it's sort of a double-edged sword. they steadily come together and twist themselves around each other without john there to drive them apart, but at the same time it is john's active presence which allows them to take definitive steps toward their desired state of being (codependency). without the pressure john exerts on the narrative, their progress is slow, and they're too nervous to make those drastic leaps from step to step without some external force pitting them against each other. in that way they're a little too comfortable with each other (a lifetime together will do that for you), and they have to be unavoidably forced out of that comfort in order for them to commit to anything. john is both the driving force for their codependency and the wedge hammered between them, which sums up his narrative role so poetically if you ask me.

so like, tldr (seriously), i think if john went missing and they made the active choice to stop looking for him, they still definitely would have the potential to achieve codependency, but it might take them a much longer time to do so, especially with azazel's meddling (because he, of course, wants them to kill each other—that's their destiny after all). without something to rotate around, they risk stagnation, but it would likely be a comfortable stagnation with steady, if slow, progress toward a better, closer relationship. i wouldn't say the end product would ever be healthy though, because it's clear early on that their ideal relationship with each other is that of codependency, and so they are constantly striving for that end goal. and like, thank god for that, idk what i'd do if they were normal about each other 💦

[justtrash202]

Teenage! Wallabee Beetles Headcannons

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about what Wallabee Beetles might be like as a teenager and how he’s evolved from the kid we know.

These headcannons are just my personal take on how I see him—his personality, style, relationships, and how his childhood quirks might have developed over time. This is something I’ve been working on for a while, and I’m excited to share it! Hope you enjoy this little glimpse into my version of Teenage Wally. (This will be updated as it goes ^^')

Appearance: Wally is 5'3 ft with a strong upper body and an athletic build from years of activity and training. His skin is covered in light freckles, mostly noticeable on his arms and legs, adding a youthful touch. His messy blonde hair is longer in the back, giving him a mullet-like bowl cut. He has a diagonal scar on the left side of his lip and noticeable scars across his upper torso from past fights. Wally’s style is casual but bold: he wears a black band shirt under an orange zip-up hoodie, cuffed jeans with silver chains on the right side, and white sneakers. On his left arm, he wears a white sweatband, and he’s got a few silver earrings—a hoop in his right ear, a ball stud and a double helix earring in his left. He also wears a magnetic half-heart necklace with a sparkling green center, though he keeps it hidden under his shirt.

Personality: As a teenager, Wally has matured into a more cautious and thoughtful version of his younger self while still retaining his fiery and impulsive nature. The loss of his mother and the responsibility of helping care for his younger brother alongside his father have forced him to grow up quickly, giving him a stronger sense of accountability. Wally has tempered his recklessness, learning to think before he acts to avoid putting others in danger—a hard-earned lesson that drives many of his decisions. Now working with the Teenage Ninjas, he finds himself in morally ambiguous alliances with Father, Kree, and the Delightful Children from Down the Lane. Though he despises much of what they stand for, he remains involved, believing he can make a difference from within while protecting those he cares about. Smarter and more strategic than before, Wally is still hopeless when it comes to handling his emotions, often resorting to sarcasm or humor to deflect feelings he doesn’t know how to express. His competitive streak and bold nature remain, but he’s learned to value teamwork and collaboration, even if it doesn’t come naturally. Beneath his tough exterior lies a deeply loyal and caring individual who will go to any lengths to protect the people he loves, even if it means walking a path he isn’t sure is right.

Headcanons

Short King Energy: Wally may not be the tallest, but he’s got that undeniable “short king” swagger. His confidence is through the roof, and he proves time and time again that size doesn’t define strength or impact.

Soccer Star: (inspire by @beetles-sanban) Wally dominates the field as a fierce striker on the school soccer team. While he's still banned from American football, his aggressive playing style makes him a legend in soccer.

Martial Arts Master: Wally’s part of the Martial Arts Club, training in Boxing, Tae Kwon Do, and Jujitsu. It helps him stay sharp, focused, and ready to take on anything.

Detention Regular: Wally practically lives in detention—whether he’s mouthing off to teachers or accidentally blowing up the chemistry lab, trouble just seems to follow him.

Average C Student: Thanks to Abby’s patient tutoring, Wally barely scrapes by with decent grades, just enough to pass but never make the honor roll.

Biology Whiz (Sort Of): Wally’s surprisingly decent at biology, mostly because Kuki has a knack for explaining things in a way he can actually understand.

Last-Minute Cramming King: Wally is a notorious procrastinator, somehow managing to pull off last-minute cramming and still barely passing his tests.

Class Clown Energy: Team him up with Hoagie, and every classroom becomes their personal comedy show. Teachers dread sitting them together because they know chaos will follow.

Skateboard Everywhere: Wally is never seen walking if he can help it. His skateboard is his trusty ride, and he’s always pulling off impressive tricks while zooming around.

Teenage Ninja: Though he reluctantly works for Father, the Delightful Children from Down the Lane, and Cree, Wally is determined to break free from Father’s grip.

Driving License Saga: Wally is the last of his friends to get his license—not because he can’t drive, but because he refuses to follow the rules, especially when it comes to adults.

Bisexual Disaster: Wally turns bright red and stammers whenever someone he finds attractive compliments him, regardless of gender. His fiery denials are as strong as his blush.

Reputation of Steel: Wally’s fierce loyalty makes people think twice about messing with his friends. His reputation as “The Nose Breaker” speaks for itself—he’s a force to be reckoned with when it comes to protecting those he loves. He famously know for breaking the nose of of the jocks that made funny Hoagie.

Rock Band Guitarist: Wally plays lead guitar in a rock band. His stage presence is electric—even if his bandmates would prefer he stop jumping off amps mid-song.

Bromance with Hoagie: If Wally weren’t so head-over-heels for Kuki, he’d probably be dating Hoagie. Their bromance is legendary, and they’re always there for each other—no questions asked.

Relationship Enigma: Wally and Kuki aren’t officially a couple (yet), but everyone assumes they are. Their relationship is confusing to friends, with Kuki’s affectionate gestures and Wally’s casual acceptance leaving everyone wondering what’s really going on.

Learning to Swim: Wally never knew how to swim until Hoagie gave him summer lessons when they were preteens. Hoagie’s patience paid off, and now Wally is a solid swimmer—though he’ll never admit it was all Hoagie’s doing.

Selective Affection: Wally's not the type to dish out affection easily—he’s much more reserved unless he really trusts someone. He’s more casual with people like Abby, but with Kuki and Hoagie, his soft side shines through. They can invade his space, get extra hugs, and see that rare, affectionate Wally only a few are lucky enough to witness.

Surprisingly Good Cook: Despite his rough exterior, Wally is actually a decent cook. He may not whip up fancy dinners, but when it comes to feeding people, he’s got it covered. He learned to cook after spending late nights babysitting Joey, when he had to feed him and keep him entertained. Now, he’s the one making sure no one goes hungry, even if it’s just a simple meal.

Bad at Texting: Wally’s texting skills are decent, but don’t expect a fast reply. If it’s not urgent, your message could sit in his inbox for weeks before he remembers to respond—usually when you’ve already forgotten about it.

Stress Smoker: Wally picked up smoking during late-night jam sessions with his band, and while he’s cut back thanks to Hoagie and Abby’s efforts, he still smokes occasionally when stress gets the better of him.

Energy Drink Junkie: Wally has a serious addiction to energy drinks, especially Monster. It’s common to see him juggling a can in one hand and his skateboard in the other, much to the concern of his friends.

Big Brother Vibes: Wally is all about protecting Joey. He walks him to school, gives him advice, and steps in whenever anyone dares mess with his little brother. He’s got that "mama bear" energy when it comes to Joey, making sure no one hurts him.

Sleepless Struggles: With the stress of school, his band, and working for Father, Wally struggles with insomnia. He’s developed a habit of using sleeping pills to help him sleep, something his friends worry about, but Wally insists he’s got it under control.

No Nickname Policy: Wally’s not one for nicknames—he prefers to stick to what everyone else calls people. He’s the one who started calling Kuki "Kooks" and, in retaliation, refers to her as "Kookie Monster." He also lovingly calls Hoagie "Mr. Brainiac" when he’s feeling affectionate.

Permission to Swear: As an Aussie, Wally has a mouth that would make a sailor blush. He’s learned to keep it in check around his friends, though, raising his hand and asking for "permission to cuss," much to Nigel’s dismay.

Unexpected Animal Lover: After a run-in with the law, Wally chose community service at an animal shelter over juvenile detention. What he thought would be a fun experience with Kuki quickly turned into a chore—until he got assigned to a litter of kittens. He bonded with a black-and-white kitten named Oreo and ended up adopting her. Since then, Wally’s had a soft spot for animals.

Support Specialist: Whether he's fixing props for Kuki's theater group, lending a hand to Hoagie with his inventions, or even being Abby's backup dancer in her videos, Wally’s always there when his friends need him, making him the go-to guy for any kind of support.

Surprisingly Smooth: Despite his tough exterior, Wally’s got some serious dance moves—second only to Abby. His bold, high-energy style is a perfect match for his fiery personality, and he always steals the spotlight at parties.

Confidence Unleashed: Wally’s confidence has only grown with age. He’s now more assertive, ready to take risks, and stands firm in his beliefs—even if it means bending the rules or challenging authority.

Comically Dense: Wally is the definition of oblivious. Subtle hints fly right over his head, and it takes someone spelling it out for him. How dense? He didn’t realize he and Kuki had been dating for years. It wasn’t until a quiet moment, like cuddling, that it finally clicked.

Low-Key Artist: Wally dabbles in sketching and drawing, though he’d never admit it. He has a notebook full of half-finished drawings of band logos, cars, and abstract doodles. He’s surprisingly talented for someone who likes to act tough.

Unintentionally Heartthrob: Wally never tries to be charming, but his confidence and bad-boy demeanor make him a bit of a heartthrob. He’s always completely oblivious to the attention he gets, especially from anyone outside his close circle.

Surprisingly Good Singer: Wally might not look like it, but he’s got a surprisingly good singing voice. Whether it’s belting out rock ballads with his band or humming along to one of Kuki’s favorite songs, his voice has a raw, emotional quality that catches everyone off guard. While he’s too shy to sing in front of a crowd on his own.

Sum 41 Superfan: Wally is a die-hard Sum 41 fan. Their high-energy punk rock perfectly matches his vibe, and you’ll often catch him blasting their music while skateboarding or jamming with his band. He’s memorized every lyric.

Wolverine Enthusiast: Wally loves Wolverine. From the comics to the movies, he’s obsessed with the clawed mutant’s tough attitude and no-nonsense approach. His room has Wolverine posters, and he’s known to quote lines or imitate Wolverine’s signature growl during battles. He even dressed as Wolverine one Halloween, complete with homemade claws.

Triple Threat of Sports: Wally isn’t just about skating—he’s a natural at all three "S’s." He’s equally skilled at snowboarding, skateboarding, and surfing. Whether he’s carving through fresh powder, pulling off insane tricks at the skatepark, or catching waves, Wally’s got it all. His love for adrenaline is unmatched, and he thrives on the rush of these sports. Each board is an extension of himself, and he moves with a fluidity that leaves others in awe.

Fidgety Teenage Energy: As a teenager, Wally’s got more restless energy than ever. If he’s forced to sit still for too long—whether it’s during a class, meeting, or just waiting—his body starts to take over. His leg will bounce up and down uncontrollably, or he’ll tap his thumb against a surface in a rhythmic pattern. It’s like his body’s way of releasing all the pent-up energy from his busy mind. Even when he tries to hide it, it’s impossible to ignore—especially if you’re sitting next to him.

Self-Taught Sign Language: (inspired by @kommandonuovidiavoli) Wally’s bond with Joey goes beyond typical sibling affection. Knowing that Joey sometimes struggles with anxiety and doesn’t always want to talk, Wally took it upon himself to learn sign language. It wasn’t easy, but he did it for Joey, so they could communicate even when words weren’t enough. It’s something Wally is incredibly proud of, and while he might not always show it, the fact that he can now help his brother in this way means the world to him. Joey’s comfort and happiness always come first, and this is just one of the many ways Wally shows his unwavering love for him.

Late Bloomer: Wally was always the shortest in the group at 5'3, but at 17, he grew to 5'4 3/4, just taller than Kuki. Though still small, he took pride in his growth, and Kuki teased him about losing her height advantage.

Wally's Relationships

Sector V

Kuki (Numbuh 3): Kuki holds a special place in Wally’s heart—she’s the girl who has completely captured him. Her unshakable optimism and heartwarming kindness have a magnetic effect on him, drawing him in every time they’re together. He’d do anything to protect her smile, even if it meant pushing aside his own feelings of guilt. Wally’s love for Kuki is something that evolved over time, beginning with playful banter and gradually turning into something deeper and more intimate. He doesn’t label it, but to him, Kuki is everything. Her vibrant personality brings out a side of him that he rarely shows anyone else—his softer, more vulnerable side. Despite his attempts to play it cool, it’s clear to anyone who’s paying attention that Wally is head over heels in love with her. This connection is a bittersweet one for him, as the weight of his current actions, his betrayal, and his role as an enemy hangs over him. He constantly wrestles with the conflict between his feelings for Kuki and the guilt of what he's doing. But above all, Wally’s desire to protect Kuki and make her happy burns deeply within him, and it’s a pain that he carries, knowing that his choices might hurt her one day.

Hoagie (Numbuh 2): Hoagie is Wally’s best friend and partner in crime, the brother he chose. Their bond is legendary—a bromance built on years of trust, laughter, and the countless pranks they’ve pulled together. Wally can always count on Hoagie to have his back, no matter how absurd the plan or how big the mess is. Hoagie is one of the few people in the world with whom Wally feels completely comfortable being himself. Even when things go wrong, even when their inventions explode or cause chaos, Hoagie’s there, and Wally appreciates that more than anything. He admires Hoagie’s creativity and intelligence (though he teases him endlessly as “Mr. Brainiac”) and knows that Hoagie has a way of thinking that complements his own rough-and-tumble style. While their friendship is built on humor and wild schemes, Wally considers Hoagie a steady source of support. But deep down, Wally feels the strain of betraying Hoagie, someone who’s always been loyal to him. The knowledge that he’s not being fully honest with Hoagie eats at him, adding weight to his every interaction with his best friend.

Nigel (Numbuh 1): Nigel is Wally’s hero, the leader he looks up to with reverence. Wally has always respected Nigel’s unwavering commitment to the KND’s cause and his ability to carry the burden of leadership without faltering. As much as Wally may act tough and dismissive at times, deep inside, he’s constantly seeking Nigel’s approval. He wants to impress him, to prove himself worthy of being part of the team. The praise or acknowledgment he receives from Nigel is cherished by Wally, and he often pushes himself to extremes to meet the high standards he believes Nigel expects. However, beneath that surface, Wally harbors insecurities that he hides behind his bravado and tough exterior. His betrayal of Nigel and the KND is one of the hardest things for him to bear. Wally wants to be the type of person Nigel can rely on, but instead, he feels like he’s letting him down, deepening his internal struggle.

Abby (Numbuh 5): Abby is Wally’s not-blood-related sister, the one who’s been there for him through thick and thin. She serves as a grounding force in his chaotic world, helping him navigate his fiery temper and impulsive decisions. While Wally can be hot-headed and stubborn, Abby knows exactly how to calm him down and offer advice when he needs it most. Their bond is built on mutual respect, and even though they tease each other, there’s a deep, unspoken understanding between them. Wally knows that Abby has his back no matter what, and he will protect her without hesitation. She’s one of the few people in his life who sees through his bravado and understands the deeper layers of who he is. Their friendship is strong, and he would do anything for her, just as she would for him. But with the secrets Wally is carrying, he struggles with the guilt of deceiving someone who has always been a sister to him. He’s constantly torn between his loyalty to Abby and the actions he’s forced to take as part of his current mission, which puts a strain on their otherwise unshakable relationship.

His Family

Joey: Joey is Wally’s world, his everything. As his younger brother, Joey holds a special place in Wally’s heart, and he would go to the ends of the earth to keep him safe. The bond they share is unshakable, and Wally strives to be the best big brother he can be—both protector and role model. Joey inspires Wally to be a better person, and no matter what, he’ll always put Joey’s needs before his own. Wally refuses to let anything bad happen to Joey, and he will protect him at all costs—especially after the trauma they both endured with their mother. Wally is determined that Joey will never face the same fate, and this drives his every move. Joey is the light that keeps Wally’s hope alive, and he will always put his brother’s needs above his own, even if it means carrying a burden alone.

Sydney: Wally’s relationship with his father, Sydney, has always been complicated. Growing up under his father’s expectations was challenging, and Wally often felt like he could never quite meet those standards. Despite their differences, Wally deeply loves and respects Sydney. Over time, Wally has worked hard to rebuild their relationship, and though it’s still a work in progress, they’ve found a way to connect. Sydney has high expectations for Wally, and this pressure sometimes creates tension, but Wally strives to be the son his father can be proud of. He wants to make up for lost time and prove that he’s capable of living up to those expectations. While their relationship isn’t perfect, Wally is determined to find a way to be the person Sydney believes he can be, even if he has doubts about himself.

Mrs. Beetles: Though she is no longer with them, Wally remembers his mother fondly and misses her deeply. Their relationship wasn’t always perfect—there were moments of tension and misunderstandings—but Wally holds onto the love she gave him and the lessons she taught. Her death left a deep void in Wally’s life, and he struggles with feelings of guilt, blaming himself for what happened to her. This motivates him to try and protect his family from repeating the same mistakes that took her away. Even in her absence, Wally continues to carry the values she instilled in him, especially the importance of protecting the ones he loves. Her memory is a constant motivator, driving him to be better for Joey and the rest of his family.

Lou (Toiletnator): Lou, or as Wally knows him, ‘The Toiletnator’, has always been a source of confusion and childhood frustration for Wally. Growing up, Wally thought Lou was his father due to the family’s secrecy about Sydney’s twin. Lou, a ridiculous and inept villain, frequently clashed with Wally during his childhood, with their encounters often ending in embarrassing and hilarious ways. Despite being a villain, Lou’s bumbling antics were part of Wally’s early life, and they shaped his sense of heroism and what it means to be a protector. The truth about Lou’s relationship with Sydney didn’t come out until later, and Wally had to reconcile the fact that his uncle, not his father, was the one who had been causing him all those childhood headaches. While Lou may be a source of comic relief and a failed villain, Wally still feels some sense of familial connection to him, even if it’s complicated by their past.

Oreo (His Cat): Oreo is Wally’s “other child,” his fur baby, and he treats her with the same love and care he would give a family member. Wally adopted Oreo during his community service days, and she quickly became a constant companion, offering comfort and companionship when things got tough. Oreo is more than just a pet to Wally—she’s a source of solace, a creature he can rely on to bring some semblance of peace in the chaos of his life. She’s spoiled rotten, treated like royalty, and she’s always there to curl up with him after a long day. Wally loves the sense of normalcy Oreo brings to his home, and her unconditional affection serves as a reminder that, even amid all his struggles, there’s still love and warmth in his life.

Benedict Uno (Father): Wally harbors a deep resentment for his father, Benedict Uno. The strained relationship between them stems from a combination of strict expectations and a deep-seated feeling of betrayal. Growing up, Wally was always under his father’s watchful eye, with every move scrutinized and every mistake highlighted. Benedict holds Wally accountable for the disappearance of his mother, and this has created a lasting source of bitterness in their relationship. Wally despises Benedict with every fiber of his being, feeling as though he was never given a chance to prove himself or live up to his father's standards. Their strained connection is further exacerbated by the fact that Benedict, as one of the most dangerous enemies in Wally’s life, has been an almost constant presence. Their battles as a child only fueled Wally’s hatred for him. Benedict has kept Wally on a tight leash, using threats and manipulation to ensure his compliance. Wally may pretend to follow Benedict’s orders out of necessity, but inside, he dreams of breaking free from his father's control.

The Delightful Children From Down The Lane: As a child, Wally fought the Delightful Children From Down The Lane countless times. They represent everything he despises: entitled, self-centered, and utterly obnoxious. Even though they’re no longer as threatening as they once were, Wally still holds a deep-seated grudge against them. He can’t stand their entitled attitudes, and he’s always had a particular distaste for their unwavering belief in their superiority. He plays the part of the loyal subordinate when he has to work with them, but the animosity runs deep. Wally’s time spent battling the Delightful Children shaped much of his personality, fueling his dislike for their pompous and pretentious behavior. He still sees them as annoying, spoiled brats and can't stand working with them.

Cree: Wally absolutely detests Cree, especially after what she did to Abby. While Cree is someone Wally is forced to work with, he doesn’t pretend to like her. There’s no love lost between them, and Wally is quick to let his dislike show whenever possible. Cree’s actions, particularly her role in Abby’s struggles, have left a permanent mark on Wally, and he struggles to keep his feelings of resentment in check. Despite his loathing for her, Wally plays nice because he knows that he has to work with her for now—his involvement with Cree is simply another painful reminder of how the lines between friends, foes, and allies have become blurred. He keeps his cool in front of Cree but secretly wishes for the chance to make her pay for everything she’s done to those he cares about. Wally may be forced into her orbit, but his disdain is a constant undercurrent of their interactions.

[andyouloveme]

What would you say are your favourite and least favourite scenes from each season of YR?

Ooh that's a lot

Alright S1 favourite is the morning after scene. Really is them at their happiest. The beautiful golden light, their giggles and their goofiness never fail to put a smile on my face.

Least favourite... Well there's one scene I can't watch but I don't think it's a bad scene. The initiation scene in S1 just gies me the boke but it does it's job very effectively 😂

S2 favourite is the opening scene! Probably my favourite in the whole series. Really was a perfect introduction to the season. Beautifully shot and soundscaped whilst introducing pretty much all the main issues in S2: he's still deeply in love with Simon, his difficult relationship with his mother, his grief and his hatred of August.

Conversely (and probably controversialy) my least favourite in S2 was the ending. Wille's speech has always bugged me. Admitting it was him is one thing but he then mentions Simon by name. Wille essentially has just outed Simon to the whole world. And part of Simon's problems with how Wille handled the S1 statement was because Wilhelm didn't communicate with him about his decision, and, I know Wilhelm is doing this on impulse, but here he is again making decisions which impact Simon without discussing it. Fortunately Simon seemed to think it was romantic. Also not a fan of the overall execution of the scene. The line they end on feels like there is more to come and a random place to end and the way they dip the audio here and bring up the music all feels very abrupt to me. I think I heard the ending was changed from it's original and it does feel a bit hashed together.

Favourite in S3 going to combine two scenes cause they're basically a continuation of each other. Micke teaching Sara to drive and them singing in the car. It was nice to see he's actually interested in her life when he suggested she works with abused horses and it was sweet that he was teaching her the only skill he really can to help her get there. Them bonding whilst singing just makes me smile and makes the later scene where he lets her down hurt all that much more (I love angst). Also honourable mention to the Wilmon sex scene.

Least favourite s3 scene was Wille's conversation with his parents in the car at the end. It was a culmination of disappointment in the finale and for me it just did not feel like Wille speaking. Honourable mention cause it's not a scene but I really disliked the Wille/Simon montage at the end. I just felt like I was suddenly in a different genre and it did not match the tone of the rest of the series

[agameforgoodchristians]

“God Planning Your Pain to Make a Point” (John 9:1-3) [A Guest Card Talk]

“God Planning Your Pain to Make a Point” (John 9:1-3)

A Guest Card Talk by Matthew E. Henry*

It’s What You See

As [Jesus] walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. … When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam”…Then he went and washed and came back able to see. (From The Gospel According to John 9:1-7, NRSV)

As a poet and educator, a quote from Henry David Thoreau is often on my mind: it’s not what you look at that matters, but what you see. There’s a lot in John chapter 9 to be seen, and it would be easy to focus on all of the blindness, the lack of sight in this story: 

The man at the center of the story is literally blind. (vs 1)

The disciples’ lack of understanding and metaphoric blindness before the healing takes place. (vs 2-7)

How, after sight is granted to the formerly blind man, the Pharisees and the crowd display a lack of belief (spiritual blindness) by questioning if the man was even really blind to begin with, and then driving his whole family out of their religious community for their dealings with Jesus. (vs 8-41)

All of these elements are fair game, clearly build upon each other, and are a part of the central point of the passage. It’s also what I was taught as a kid in Sunday School. But this was never the first thing I saw. I was always deeply bothered by this flannel graph favorite, but it took me years to understand what was staring me right in the face: the blindness of Jesus.

maybe Jesus needed more time to think the disciples asked Him whose sin blinded this man from birth: his, his parents? appalled, Martha cannot believe in this Jesus whose deaf answer trembles her Bible closed. so that you could see the power of God? she remembers the eyes which accused her of lapses in prenatal care. questioned her fidelity. found lawful cause for his tiny body’s chronic rebellion against its own good. as the pastor reads His response, she finds their false blame better— more acceptable—than sons suffering for parlor tricks, divine object lessons.  

~ MEH 

What Do We Deserve?

From the outset, this story is a theological and emotional rollercoaster. Jesus sees a man who is blind, and since this is Jesus, we assume a healing is forthcoming. But before He can open His mouth, His disciples ask a provocative question:

“Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”  (vs2)

The disciples see someone in pain and ask a question accusing the man and his family of being so sinful that he deserves his aliment. The implication is plain: natural pain, illness, or sickness is the result of sin. We get what we deserve, which may include bearing the burden of our parents’ sin.

Look, I’m a high school teacher. I have no problem with basic “cause and effect” logic when it comes to consequences. You didn’t do your homework or study, so you failed the test. You tipped back in your chair, so you fell over. You said something racist/sexist/homophobic to the wrong person on the right day, so now you walk with a limp. Speeding can cause an accident. Unprotected sex can result in an STD. Uncritical voting practices can, ironically, lead to the downfall of democracy. These are outcomes easy to understand. But most of us will balk at the idea that we “deserve” an effect that is not a direct result of something we ourselves caused.

To some degree we can begrudgingly accept the reality that the decisions that others make, especially our parents, can have a negative impact on us. Ask the family, significant other, coworker, or employee of abusers, alcoholics, emotional manipulators, gamblers, or any other shitty people. We can all be hurt by the actions of others, but to say we “deserve” that hurt is unhealthy. [Pause: if you don’t think this is true, you are probably in an abusive situation, as your friends have been telling you for years. Listen to them. Get out.]

The beginnings of Jesus’ responses bears out the truth of this:

 Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned… (vs 3a)

YES, Jesus! Smack down their highly problematic theological assertion—their backward hamartiology imputing sin on the innocent. This is where the story should: Jesus drops this knowledge, heals the man who is blind, and they all go out to throw loan sharks out of the Temple. But the problem is that Jesus keeps (f**king) talking…

 “…he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.” (vs 3b)

Seriously Jesus: WTF?

Let’s really stop and unpack this.

In answering thier question, Jesus says that this man’s decades of blindness was preordained by God—presumably before the foundations of the earth were lain—as a “parlor trick” or “divine object lesson” for the benefit of the disciples (and presumably everyone else who would come in contact with the healed man, whether in person, or reading his story in the Christian New Testament). Yes. The number of people impacted by this miraculous event is an amazing witness. And no doubt the formerly blind man was very grateful for his healing (you know, save for the whole having his life of pain questioned and his family run out of town thing, which undoubtedly sucked). But, again, let’s really look at what this means.

Let’s propose a new scenario: a mother has a child with a serious physical or cognitive limitation which significantly harms the child’s quality of life. She hears this story being preached by her pastor/priest from the pulpit one Sunday morning. What would she take away from this tale?

It’s one thing to believe an almighty God is doing the Divine’s Best to redeem all our free will actions—that “all things working together for good” (Romans 8:28) means that God is exerting effort in the face of the causes and effects that lead to our pain. Call it “natural evil,” or “a result of The Fall,” or “nature red in tooth an claw,” or “shit happens,” this mother, like many of us, can begrudgingly accept this idea when it comes to “why bad things happen.”

But it is another thing entirely to ask this woman if she is comfortable serving a God who believes that the ends justify the means. Asking her to accept a utilitarian model of theodicy—achieving “the most good for the most people” means that some people have to suffer by divine design. What could she take away other than false hope or anger at the prospect that maybe, hopefully, there is “some good reason” that God has for directly causing her child pain?

That might be a shit-filled pill too large to swallow.

It Gets Worse

I am not the only person who thinks this. Other characters in the Bible do as well. If we continue reading The Gospel According to John, a couple of chapters later we come to a story about Lazarus—a close friend of Jesus—whose situation is placed in relation to this story about the man who was formerly blind.

In John chapter 11, when Lazarus get very very ill, his sisters—Mary and Martha—send word to Jesus that His beloved friend is close to death. Upon hearing this news, Jesus responds, “This illness does not lead to death; rather, it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it” (vs 4b) [sound familiar?]. He then hangs out for another two days until he receives word that Lazarus has died. Eventually, Jesus makes the trip to see Lazarus’ body, which has now been in the tomb for four whole days. But, just like with the blind man, Jesus is unfazed because He had a plan, knew what He was doing all along. Yes, healings are great, but by now you should see the pattern and the problem.

If Jesus could heal him, why should Lazarus have to suffer like this—his body wracked with pain, alternating between fever and chills, gasping for each labored breath? And what about the people who love Lazarus and must watch him suffer? They attempted to cool his body, relieve his pain, force him to eat something, tell him everything is going to be alright when they didn’t believe it themselves. Being so concerned for the welfare of their brother, for the first and only time recorded, Mary and Martha try to cash in on their long-standing friendship with Jesus, desperately believing that He had the power to save him (See 21-27; 32).

But it’s not only Lazarus’ family who feels this way, but the friends gathered around who knew the power of Jesus. So much so they reference his previous encounter with the formerly blind man:

Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”

But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” (vs 35-37)

Again, yes, to exist on this planet means we will suffer in various ways, including our bodies rebelling against us and those we love. Ugly and painful deaths are also built into the system. Thus, the fact that Jesus heals anyone in the Bible is wonderful. But don’t miss the rationale given for the illness, for the death. Don’t be blind to the Bible’s own words. Jesus said Lazarus was sick “…for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it” (vs 4b). God becomes the cause of this effect and it forces one, or at least me to, respectfully, call theological bullshit.

 An Uncomfortable Way of Seeing

As I’ve grown older, my Sunday school discomfort has been tempered by my life as a writer and educator. It’s led me to wonder if these self-referential stories have fallen prey to a common literary issue: the narrative plot hole.

Sometimes an author is so wrapped up in the point that they are trying to make that they don’t think through the implications of all the details; They are so focused on the big picture, the major theme and motifs running through a work, the finer point get lost. It’s the same reason why medical shows are eviscerated by doctors, sci-fi movies by physicists, and police procedurals by civil rights lawyers. Some would call this a blasphemous thought. I recommend those people to not read any of the other posts on this website. But I think this way of seeing is better than the alternative.

I won’t dive into the depth of what this way of seeing requires in terms of “the inerrancy of Scripture,” “divine inspiration of Scripture,” and the variety of other hermeneutical concerns some would raise. I am aware of them, but if you’re bothered by this, you’ll probably hate my answers for those. But I will provide one for the Bible nerds: this view of Jesus/God in the Gospels is singular to John. What do I mean? This idea that physical ailments are a result of sin or God’s divine plans in this particular way, only shows up in The Gospel According to John. It is not present in in the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, or Luke).

Neither the Lazarus story in chapter 11 or our principle story in chapter 9 are found in the other gospels. In Mark 8:22-26 there is a blind man being healed story that is similar to the John narrative, but among the many differences there is no mention of sinfulness or the idea that God plans such pain for people. Going for the trifecta, John provides a third story that suggests that disability is tied to sin.

In John 5:1-18, Jesus comes across a man who is paraplegic. Jesus heals the man before going on His merry way, but it’s the aftermath that we see this uniquely Johannine theology of suffering:

Now the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had disappeared into the crowd that was there. Later Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, “See, you have been made well! Do not sin any more, so that nothing worse happens to you.”  (vs 13-14)

Again, this story is not contained in the other three gospels. Make of that what you will, but it seems pretty clear the writer(s) of John had a way of looking at things that was not shared by the other gospel writers. Maybe three out of four gospels agree that the idea that physical suffering being a part of the divine plan is simply a wrongheaded idea. I guess you get to decide who you agree with.

But, to paraphrase this game’s creators, what do I know? I’m just a poet and you probably think I’m going to Hell.

* Dr. Matthew E. Henry (MEH) is the Boston-born educator, editor, and author of six books of poetry, including The Third Renunciation (New York Quarterly Books, 2023). The Third Renunciation is a collection of theological sonnets, wherein the poem featured above is published.

He was also the editor of A Game for Good Christian’s This Present Former Glory: An Anthology of Honest Spiritual Literature

Dr. Henry received his MFA in poetry from Seattle Pacific University, yet continued to spend money he didn’t have completing a MA in theology (Andover Newton Theological School) and a PhD in education (Lesley University). But he should not be confused with the long dead, white, theologian. His work can be found at www.MEHPoeting.com and on Twitter (he will never call it X) at @MEHPoeting.  

[magicalgirljasontodd]

lazuras-pit madness is so…lazy. it takes away from how fundamentally changed jason was because of the joker and his death and trauma. it excuses the way he acts when the reality is he isn’t perfect but he has specific motivations and morals that drive him to act the way he does. excusing his wrongdoings because of the pit takes away from his character because his actions dictate who he is as a person because they’re so fuelled by his beliefs. it makes jason no longer jason and just a crafted character who has his name. he acts the way he does (hurting tim) because of his insecurities and the impacts of his trauma (how he talks about bruce not avenging his death and letting the joker hurt other people is selfish of bruce), as well as his childhood impacting how he views gotham and it’s people (how he understands gotham in a way bruce can’t) and how he wishes to save gotham in a way that may not be morally right but works better due to his willingness to use violence in order to control the crime instead of meaninglessly locking them away only for crime to continue (a lot of his motivations are both about himself but also wanting to protect others e.g. mia & all of gotham) he has real, deep reasons to the way he acts that means pit madness doesn’t really make sense or fit with his plot. i think jason’s anger and irrationality is part of his character; it is a result of his trauma and personality and the fact that although he was technically 19, he hadn’t had the chance to actually develop since 15. all of his actions make sense when you think about his childhood, his trauma and his personality. they’re also what makes him such an interesting character because he’s so flawed but has real sense to his decision making, he actually thinks deeply about why and how he’s acting even if it seems irrational. BOO PIT MADNESS

[jellydishes]

Varric sat with his arms crossed across his chest like that would do the slightest thing to protect him from any probing questions Aveline might send his way. The problem was that he found silence uncomfortable, which they were both very well aware of. She just had to wait him out.

That didn't mean he had to make it easy for her.

"This is just going to make one more trip for everyone," he muttered mutinously. He had his feet shoved as far under the dashboard as his comparatively shorter legs could reach, and he shifted them restlessly. "Which probably means somebody will have to drive out there again, in order to bring Ed's motorcycle out to her. That going to be you?"

"No," Aveline said, making a minor adjustment to the steering wheel that kept them driving down the straight, unbroken road. The high beams sliced through the darkness, an extra pair of eyes staring down the path ahead of him and laying it bare.

Varric sighed and slouched back into the worn seat cover that barely resembled whatever Orlesian flower she'd liked at the time. "...What do you want me to say, Aveline?" She made a noncommittal noise, and Varric groaned. "You can't just… expect words to flow out whenever you want! People need something to build off of!"

"Isn't that your job description? I thought you'd published a few things by now," she said in a neutral tone.

Varric started to get defensive, only to slow to a pause. "Have you read them?"

She hummed for a moment before saying, "I did."

"And?"

"And I think your stories struggle with the same things you do," she said. Without taking her eyes off of the road, Aveline reached out and turned on the windshield dehumidifier. Now that they were crossing into an area of different elevation, it was starting to get foggy in areas.

"My editor called them polished and ‘deeply human’ when they read them over for me," he protested automatically, but there wasn't any more heat in it.

Aveline still didn't look at him, but he saw her roll her broad shoulders in a shrug. "They were a good read, for what they were. I don't claim to be any sort of literary critic. But I see what I see."

"Which was?"

Another hum. "Your story about the lover who turned to stone every morning, and the one about the lover who ran to the bottom of the sea to become a merman?"

"Yes?" He asked with a frown. Sometimes getting complete answers out of Aveline took a crowbar and a lot of patience, and right now he didn't have either.

"The story never questioned how their decisions impacted other people," she said.

"Maybe that wasn't part of the stories I wanted to tell."

"Maybe," she said. Before he could respond she finished that thought with, "Stories don't have to be real. But they do have to be honest."

Varric could feel his face work through competing expressions. “All writing is honest, in a way.” It was an automatic answer, no different than what he would've said to a professor, and Aveline snorted as Varric finished, “It betrays the person behind the pen.”

"Think what you want, you always do. Like I said, I'm no literary critic. Maker knows I'm not perfect," she went on, and Varric felt a flash of guilt again that turned into irritation. He was so tired of everyone lecturing him over and over again, almost as tired as he was of how he kept pushing back each and every time. Both were exhausting, but only one of those things made his stomach twist.

"Let's say you were a literary critic. What would you say?"

Aveline finally glanced at him as they rolled up to a stop sign. She watched him as the truck idled, then mercifully looked away as she got it started moving again. "I would ask what your writing betrays about you."

Varric started to answer her with the usual response he’d given in college about ‘nuanced views on classism’ and ‘humanistic approaches’ but he couldn't seem to find it in himself to actually say it. Aveline nodded. "I think you're in what my therapist called the contemplation phase," she said, and Varric found himself looking at her in surprise.

He almost said, 'You see a therapist?' or 'Andraste's ass, of course you do. I'm sorry.' He thought of a letter he'd gotten while he was away that he hadn't opened until it was far too late. It had been Wesley's obituary, and a plain, unadorned invitation to a wake and funeral that had happened the week before. He thought of how he'd never responded and never responded until enough time had gone past that he didn't know how to bridge the gulf of time and guilt he'd created between them, and he looked back out at the road. "Contemplation of what?"

"Changing behavior. Where you know something is wrong. That you aren't being served by old choices anymore, if you ever were. Where you're thinking and weighing the odds and maybe even swearing to do it, but you haven't put your weight behind the decision yet, so it can't truly be called a decision at all."

"What does all of that mean?" He'd started fiddling with a hangnail on one finger, because not moving and not looking at her and barely breathing in the cramped confines of a vehicle were getting unbearable.

"It means that Edyiss or I or anyone else can tell you what we think until we're blue in the face, but it won't matter until you decide for yourself that something is broken and that you're the one who needs to fix it."

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience," he said in automatic reflex, then winced and lifted a hand. "I didn't mean that. I don't mean to pry into your life."

"...I am speaking from experience," she said unexpectedly. "My husband died. You know that, same as you've obviously picked up that I'm a year sober. I was about as easy as you to convince that I needed to do something." Varric blinked rapidly out at the mist swirling around their truck, thick as old dreams, as she continued, "If you aren't ready, it isn't going to happen."

“Well, that's encouraging,” Varric muttered. “Hope you like hearing yourself talk, because that's about how likely change is at this point. That old saying about leopards and their spots comes to mind."

Aveline made a noise Varric very definitely did not turn his head to look towards, in order to avoid seeing the expression that went with it.

"...I'm sorry," he said after another few seconds dragged on. He didn't clarify about what, and she didn't ask.

"I know you are. Being sorry is easy. Takes no effort at all. I know that, too."

"What do you expect me to do?"

"What you always do, right up until you drag yourself out of old habits and do something hard," she told him as she turned into the road his parents' house sat on. Then, she said something strange. "You can do it."

Varric could only stare at her as they pulled up against the curb. "How do you know?" He almost stuttered, at first, and had to force his voice steady. "Maybe I'm not. Maybe everyone has been right about me all along." He didn't clarify who 'everyone' was, but he imagined he didn't need to.

"You've already shown you can shake yourself out of uncomfortable things that have grown comfortable," she said. "You've come this far before. You can do it again."

He didn't know what to say, and so he said nothing.

[cloudstrife-bbs]

Pupdates, or Unofficial Lack Thereof

Cloud is now 4½-weeks-old.

I still don't know which one has been assigned to me. The puppies are all still too young but, according to the breeder, beginning to show temperament. She says she's still a few weeks out from testing them, which to me, translates to 7-weeks-old before proper testing can be performed and assignments can be made. Plus, her constant repetition of "end of April"--- they'll be 8-weeks on April 16th, which is mid-April. Which also implies that she's keeping them until 9-weeks, which means he won't come home until April 20th or 21st.

Which, truthfully, feels like absolute torture for me.

I trust in my breeder to accurately place my puppy, and that's having a tremendous deal of faith in her. This is a decision for the life of whichever one Cloud ends up being, but she has to do this eleven times. Because the litter is so large, I have to share time and attention with at least ten other families. It would be nice to have a more personal relationship, but I sadly feel like this is gonna be another Sevit's Corgi situation: Money changes Hands, and the relationship is over, for the most part. Business only. Especially because Cloud is only a pet and not a show dog or a sport dog. I don't want to feel robbed of a potential friend and a potential network, especially because the breeder and I are both New Englanders, but I do feel robbed.

The breeder told me that she was going to have an Open House-type of Puppy Party on March 30th, for all the new puppy parents. (I don't know if I mentioned this in my last blog entry.) We are planning to bring up Cloud's very expensive, brand new Impact brand crate with puppy divider. (I hope it lasts as long as it says it does because I want it to be a dog heirloom for future Berger Blanc Suisses for the moolah we coughed up for it.) She also said to bring a towel/blanket that smells like us, and a toy, just for him. We bought him a squeaky plush Mr. Carrot, just like Bolt. We actually got multiples in case the toy doesn't come back with us. We've been sleeping with the towel to make sure it REALLY has our scent on it, but I also have another old bed sheet that I'm bringing to make his crate a bit cozier. I still don't know what time we're going to have to be there by (I asked once already, but received silence), but I'm going to shoot her a text on Monday asking again, trying to be as non-intrusive and friendly as I can in spite of my rampant anxiety. It's a 3.5 hour drive from here to there, and I would very much like to know how early in the morning we have to start out, especially if we want to avoid traffic on I84 through Hartford. I like to plan my life out accordingly and not wait until the last second.

The house is getting cleaner and cleaner and more puppy-proofed. Everyone is excited, waiting for more news about Cloud, but I only have very little to share. It's frustrating, and to be honest, it's contributing a lot to my stress and anxiety. I have all this love in my heart I am just waiting to pour into a puppy, and I feel fit to burst without anything to direct it into. I know that a new dog will be a challenge, but it's a good, healthy challenge that I'm deeply passionate about. I don't have any delusions that this is going to be a cakewalk. It's going to be sleepless nights at first, and lots of puppy biting and him not wanting to listen. Hundreds of repetitions of words as I teach him human language and proper manners. Definitely a lot of pee and poop on my kitchen floor as his body grows.

A lot of "Let me see what you have!" "A knife!" "No!" Hahaha!

But lots of playing, and new experiences every day as I socialize him to things like construction noises, grooming, and our every day life. He has to get used to loud sounds like nail guns, air compressors, miter saws, hammering, all manner of power tools, and I've already educated myself on how gundogs are trained to get an idea of how to desensitize him. He's going to go to puppy class for extra exposure to things, and I want him to learn to be calm and cool, nigh unflappable if I can shape him to be that way. But it's going to take tremendous hard work, discipline, consistency, and at least two years of puppy/teenage bullshit to get him where I want him to be. I'm no stranger to the process; it's just been a decade since I had a puppy. Dogs are to be my life's work, and I may be pushing 40 (I'm turning 38 this September), but this is only the beginning of my purpose. If the Spirits help me through their wisdom and kindness, my legacy will be my Dogs. They are my children.

Cloud: which ever puppy you end up being, I know you'll be brilliant and extraordinary. You are already my hero. You have no idea the darkness you're saving me from. You're going to have an incredible life with us, and you are worth this excruciating wait. I love you, so much. Mommy and Daddy are waiting as patiently as we can until we bring you home.

[oh-hey-big-zam]

Wheel in the Sky (Keeps on Turning

Post summary: Chrissy hadn't really known Eddie Munson that well before his sudden and mysterious death. Which is why it's a little weird when his ghost shows up in her bedroom.

Pairing: Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson, implied Chrissy Cunningham/Nancy Wheeler

Word count: 23K

Content warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence

The morning that Eddie Munson's untimely death was announced over the school loudspeaker, Chrissy was running late for her homeroom class. She had driven through the pouring rain at a near-crawl in her father's old Chevy and missed the first ten minutes of the school day. Chrissy hated driving in the rain, certain that one wrong move would send her skidding wildly over a nearby embankment and careening into a ravine. Not to mention that the other drivers around her, some of which were her fellow seniors driving to class, seemed to have no concept of their own mortality as they sped ahead of her, honking or flipping her off.

It didn't matter to Chrissy, however, if people were delayed a few seconds in their commute so she could feel safe. Most of her peers had no experience of death or trauma, no inkling of what it meant to lose someone over a simple mistake. She wished she could say the same, but she'd lost her father five years ago to a work accident. He'd been an electrician, working on overhead power lines in some rich neighborhood on the far side of town, when he'd fallen and broken his neck on impact. The insurance payment from the company he'd worked at had been sizable, allowing Chrissy and her mother to move to the very same neighborhood where her father had lost his life. Chrissy thought the decision was a little morbid, but her mother said it made her feel closer to him. She thought it was probably just because her mother liked playing the brokenhearted widow to the other country club women.

So when Chrissy walked into the room late that morning, she nearly missed the announcement. A few seconds after she found her seat and dodged the harsh glare of her teacher, Mr. Finnegan, the tinny speaker clicked to life.

Good morning, Hawkins High. It is with a heavy heart that we announce the passing of one of our own students, Edward Munson. An assembly will be held in the gymnasium at 1 PM. Our thoughts and prayers are with his family and his friends at this time.

“They're wasting their time. Munson is definitely in hell with the other devil worshipers,” one of the basketball players in the back row muttered.

Chrissy turned her head to see Bryce, a second-year senior and overall prick, snickering and exchanging high fives with the other boys in green jerseys.

“Mr. Hartley, to the principal's office. Now,” Mr. Finnegan barked.

Bryce and the teacher stared each other down for what felt like a full minute before the boy stood up, all unearned swagger, and flipped the teacher off before sauntering out of the room. Chrissy shook her head with disdain and pulled out her well-worn copy of Frankenstein. She hung out with the basketball players on occasion, all the cheerleaders did by virtue of being in the same social class at Hawkins. But she tried not to get drawn in too deeply into the ever-cycling drama of who was dating and who cheated on who. She knew that some of the other cheerleaders thought she was stuck-up and snobby, but she honestly preferred to keep to herself most of the time.

Not to mention that most of the guys on the team were complete douchebags. About the only guy she actually considered a friend was Jason Carver, who was as sweet and sincere as a golden retriever with sandy hair to match. She had opened up to him about a lot of things and trusted him to keep her confidence. He never even tried to make a move on her, although he sometimes saw from the way his eyes roved over her legs or he looked a little too long into her eyes that he must feel something for her. The cold reality of her father's death still loomed over her most days, and she wasn't sure when she'd be ready to pursue anything, let alone fall in love. She thumbed to the part of the book where the creature was teaching himself to read when Maryanne, a junior and newest recruit to the cheer team, sidled up to her.

“Hey, Chris?”

“Mm-hm?”

“Have you seen Taylor?”

“I haven't...oh shit.” Chrissy slammed her book down and her hand went over her mouth. “That was her brother, right? The guy that died?”

“Yeah, it was. Fuck, no wonder she didn't return my calls this weekend. How did it happen, you think?”

Chrissy was taken aback at the bluntness of the question, but she couldn't help but be curious herself. She cast her mind to what little knowledge she had of Eddie Munson. She knew that he had been on his third run at senior year because he kept failing calculus, and that he was the school's resident weed dealer. She knew he had lived in the trailer park with his uncle and his little sister Taylor, a fellow cheerleader who was usually seen hiding behind her mop of curly black hair. She had a vague notion that he was something of a troublemaker, although she didn't think they'd ever actually interacted. She had seen him maybe once or twice at the back of the lunch room, consorting with various underclassmen and social outcasts.

Chrissy shrugged and rubbed her thumb along the book's spine. “Maybe he, you know...overdosed.”

“Oh geez, Chrissy.”

“Well, you asked what I thought. I mean, I didn't know the guy but it makes the most sense. It was either that or a car accident. How else does a presumably healthy teenager just up and die?”

“Yeah, I guess you're right. I hope Taylor will be back by next week. We still need to perfect the routine we talked about, and you know how anal Dayna gets. Which is funny, because-”

“Ahh, I'm gonna stop you there, Mary. I don't need to know what the head cheerleader gets up to in her off hours, okay?”

“You're no fun, Cunningham.”

Chrissy threw the girl a facetious smile and flipped her book open, sinking back into her seat.

–

After lunch, Chrissy made her way to the gym to try and find a seat with the other cheerleaders. The mood of the student body was overall jovial and seemed to treat the assembly as a fun distraction from the school day, not a somber contemplation of a nineteen year old's death. She found a seat next to Jason, who smiled and moved his letterman jacket off the bench next to him.

“Saved you a seat,” he said a little shyly. She thought it was kind of endearing how he was so confident on the court but acted like a schoolboy around girls.

“Thanks, Carver,” she replied, lightly punching him on the arm to avoid giving him the wrong impression. The smile he gave her in response was a little pained. Chrissy scanned the crowd and saw a small gaggle of students huddled together solemnly on the far side of the gym, most of them wearing black and white raglan shirts with some kind of red demon on the front. She figured they must have been Eddie's friends and felt a twinge of sympathy for them. Even if he had been kind of a weirdo, he seemed to have had more real friends than she did.

The gray-haired principal made his way to the microphone at the center of the stadium and most of the students quieted down. “Good afternoon, everyone. As you no doubt heard this morning, Edward Munson has unfortunately passed away.”

“His name was Eddie!” someone shouted. Chrissy looked over at the source of the noise and saw a student with curly hair and a baseball cap standing amongst the group of Eddie's friends, looking close to tears. Someone next to him grabbed his arm to pull him down; the other students began to snicker and whisper amongst themselves.

The principal cleared his throat to try and bring some decorum back.

“Excuse me, yes, Eddie. We know that he has left behind many friends and loved ones, including his sister and fellow student Taylor. We understand that some of you may be upset at this news and myself and Ms. Kelley, the counselor, are here if you need support.”

“Yeah, I'm real upset. Can we have the rest of the day to, like, grieve and stuff?” yelled one of the football players.

The principal closed his eyes and sighed, clearly not buying their story. He looked at Ms. Kelley who was seated next to him; she rolled her eyes but still nodded.

“Yes, if that's what you need, you can do so after the assembly. Now, we also wanted to discuss another matter of some importance. Due to an ongoing investigation, we can not release any details of Mr. Munson's passing. However, the police chief has asked me to pass along a message to everyone here. It is imperative that, until more information is gathered about this case, everyone stays in groups and avoids going out after dark, particularly late at night. We know that most of you feel like nothing bad can happen in a community as safe and welcoming as Hawkins, but please, for your own well being, if you must go out, stay together and keep to well-lit and well-populated areas of the town.”

“Is there a curfew?” a female student shouted.

“Not officially at this time, no. The police force of Hawkins is doing everything they can to keep us safe. But you can help them out by making smart decisions for yourself and for your friends.”

A wave of quiet murmurs broke among the gathered students. Chrissy herself was puzzled. She hadn't had to suffer through a stranger danger assembly since grade school, so what did this have to do with Eddie's death?

“Jesus,” Jason muttered. “They make it sound so ominous.”

“Yeah, definitely. I wish they wouldn't be so vague about it, it's just going to make people panic more. My mom certainly won't let me out after dark if she hears about this.”

“I'm sure they're calling up all the parents as we speak.”

Chrissy groaned; after everything that had happened over the last few years, her mother's controlling tendencies had kicked up several notches. It was usually all she could do to leave the house for anything other than school and practice already.

“Well, I'm sure they won't mind if we head out early, it's not like anyone can focus today anyways. You want to grab a milkshake or something before you head home?”

“Ah,” Chrissy tried to think of a good reason why she couldn't and came up short. “I'm on a diet still.”

“That's okay, I'll get you a salad.”

“It's fine, really. I think I need to be with the other girls on the squad today. You know, for Taylor and everything.”

“But Taylor's not here today.”

“Yeah, but you know, we know Taylor and she obviously knew Eddie, and it's...grief by association.”

Jason flicked his eyes to the group of cheerleaders who were comparing nail polish, clearly having gotten over their shock quickly enough. He smiled at Chrissy tightly, and something in his steely blue eyes gave Chrissy an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Sure, Chris. I'll see you later.” He snatched up his jacket and headed out, a few other basketball players following behind him like ducklings.

She felt a little guilty as he left; she was sure the other girls would say she was 'leading him on' or something. But was it really that bad to be friends with a guy and not feel obligated to be his girlfriend? Sure, she could do worse than the captain of the basketball team, and he had been a good friend to her, but something felt off about him sometimes. Chrissy gathered up her stuff and headed back to class, figuring there was no sense in wasting a perfectly good school day.

–

When Chrissy pulled into her usual spot at the palatial home she shared with her mother, she found herself hoping she was out having a spa day or organizing some kind of fundraiser; anything to keep her out of the house for a little while. She knew she'd have to field a million questions she didn't know the answer to and make promises about staying extra-super-safe, even though Hawkins was about as quaint and cozy a town as one could find these days, particularly with the neighborhood they lived in. She honestly couldn't imagine any danger coming into her life unless she sought it out for herself. It was all well and good to mourn the guy, sure; he was still so young and clearly had a lot of close friends in his life. But she had a feeling he'd done something to contribute to his own demise, the strange warning at the assembly notwithstanding. This whole thing was probably just the local cops trying to wield what little authority they held amongst the teenage population by stoking some fear.

Chrissy's wish for some solitude and a chance to unwind was dashed when she opened the door and her mother, Laura, nearly flew at her, holding her in a tight vice grip.

“Oh, Chrissy, I'm so glad the school called before I left for the day. Are you alright, darling? Did you know the boy who died? Did they say what happened?”

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly to avoid rolling them and pried herself away. “Hi, mom. I promise, there's nothing to worry about. I'm fine, see? Got all my limbs and everything.” She did a twirl to show her mother she was still intact.

“Dear, this is nothing to joke about. This boy died.”

Chrissy nodded and made her way to the kitchen. “Yup, but I didn't really know him. He was kind of a weird guy, you know?”

“Weird? In what way?”

“I don't know, like he played that board game, dungeons and demons or something. And he had a little group of freshman that followed him around everywhere.”

“Demons? Was he one of those...” her mother gestured vaguely into the air. Chrissy knew what her mother was referring to, as she'd had to hear all about the apparently rampant Satan-worshipping, baby-stealing, human-sacrificing, blood-drinking cult that was sweeping the nation. She didn't put much stock into it, thinking it was just another way magazines sold copies these days. If there were really that many people being ritually murdered, she figured there would be some actual proof behind it and not just vague fear mongering. Her mother, however, would hear none of it; she'd insisted they attend church three times a week instead of two once she'd heard about it.

“Oh gosh, I don't know, mom. Like I said, I only knew about him because his sister is on our cheer squad, and she's not like, little miss talkative. And even though Hawkins is super safe, I will be extra careful in case the boogeyman comes out, okay?”

Laura gave her a stern look as Chrissy rummaged through the fridge, pulling out the fixings for a sandwich. “Honestly, Christine, sometimes I feel like you're just humoring me when you say things like that.”

Chrissy bit her lip and tried not to feel guilty. Although Laura kept herself busy most of the time, she knew her father's death still weighed heavily on her. Chrissy gave her mother an awkward side hug. “I promise, for real. No unnecessary risks for this girl. It's not like I do anything besides go to school and read anyways.”

Laura smiled sternly at her, satisfied for the moment. “All right, dear. And if you need me to pick you up and drop you off instead of you driving-”

“No, mom.”

–

After doing her homework and powering through the rest of Frankenstein, Chrissy cracked open her well-worn copy of the The Fellowship of the Ring. She'd been meaning to re-read it; the December chill in the air always made her want to curl up and visit the Shire. She couldn't really shake the odd feeling that the day's events had given her and wasn't sure why; logically, perhaps a little callously, she had already moved on. She figured if she was meant to be sad for every person's death, she would never stop being sad since people died every day. It was a bit of an odd mentality, she knew, but it had helped her get through the slow agony of her father's passing and move onto some semblance of normalcy.

Still, she felt in her gut that there was something about the situation she had missed or something that subtly but firmly demanded her attention. Maybe it was just the fact that they hadn't released the cause of death yet, although maybe it never would be out of respect to the family. She tried to forget it and focus on the words on the page; the familiar and comforting story and warmth of the blankets piled onto her made it easy to slip into a drowsy state. She was just about to let her eyes slip closed when she jumped, startled, feeling suddenly but unmistakably like she was being watched by something close by. She whipped her head around and saw nothing except the soft glow of her bedside lamp; her bedroom door was closed and her mother had gone to bed an hour ago.

The fine hair on her forearms stood up despite the clear fact that nothing else was in the room with her. Chrissy breathed in deeply and tried to get back to her relaxed state; it had probably been one of those times when your body jolts awake just as you're falling asleep. She knew from one of her many non-fiction reads that these occurred when your heart rate slows too quickly and your body thinks you're dying so it startles you awake. It was not a particularly comforting thought at that moment. She shook her head and noticed the book, still in her hands, was turned to page 42. She remembered that she'd only been on page 23 a minute ago; obviously the book had been shuffled a little in the chaos of her jerking awake. Nonetheless, it still gave her a strange feeling. She flipped back to the page she'd been on and firmly, almost defiantly, pressed the corner of the page down to mark it.

Chrissy slipped the book into her drawer and turned the light off, feeling silly for being so scared of nothing. Maybe it was a subconscious thing, like her therapist had told her about shortly after her father passed. You can ignore certain things and even convince yourself everything is fine, but the subconscious mind had a way of pushing them to the light unless they were resolved. No, that's dumb, Chrissy thought as she turned onto her side and nestled into her duvet. Why should I care about some guy I don't know dying?

–

The moonlight reflected across the carpet in Chrissy's room, broken up the movement of an oak tree in the wind. Outside, an owl preened itself as it readied for its nightly mouse hunt. Chrissy slept soundly, all thoughts of Eddie and his mysterious demise forgotten. Suddenly and without warning, her clock radio came to life, blaring as loud as the volume would go.

All the leaves are brown

And the sky is gray

I've been for a walk

On a winter's day

Chrissy gasped awake, nearly falling out of bed as she found herself tangled up in her comforter. Shoving it aside, she clicked the lamp on and saw that it was nearly midnight, 11:47 PM to be precise. She turned the volume on the radio way down, hoping it hadn't already woken her mother. She waited for a minute or two, holding her breath; thankfully Laura seemed to have slept through the sudden noise. Chrissy took a deep breath in and blew it slowly out, regarding the clock radio with distrust. The guy with the stupid Tom Selleck mustache at Radioshack had told her it was brand-new and top of the line, but clearly something was amiss if it came on at random times with the volume on full blast. She hadn't even set any alarm on it, usually waking up naturally a little after dawn, and if she had done so it certainly wouldn't be for the middle of the night.

She realized the song was still playing; scoffing, she reached around to unplug the radio, leaving a vacuum of silence where the noise had been. With how odd the day had been, Chrissy didn't feel quite ready to turn off the lamp, so she simply turned and covered herself fully, willing herself to go back to sleep. Although any tiredness had fled her body at the shock of the radio, she found comfort in the softness of her duvet and nestled deeper into the plush material. After a few minutes, however, her blood ran ice-cold as she heard another song start playing, quieter this time.

Winter is here again, oh lord

Haven't been home in a year or more

I hope she holds on a little longer

Sent a letter on a long summer day

Her hand curled around the hem of her shirt uselessly, wishing she had a knife or at least something to bang an intruder over the head with. Whoever was in here with her must have been hiding in her closet; she couldn't believe that after all her talk of not being worried, she was about to fall prey to some kind of monster. Was it the same person who had killed Eddie? Maybe if the principal had said Hey guys there's a serial killer on the loose she would have been a little more cautious.

Slowly, she created a gap in the comforter so she could see what she was dealing with. Maybe her mother was pulling a prank to show her she needed to be careful? It was extremely unlikely, knowing her, but she felt the need to grasp at straws just the same. Instead of a masked, hulking intruder wielding a machete, she saw a boy about her age, wearing a leather jacket and bobbing his head along to the Journey song. Something in his face was familiar, although she couldn't place...

And then it came to her.

His hair. Long, curly, dark. Like Taylor's. Was this...?

“Eddie?” she asked aloud.

The boy whipped around and saw the barest peek of a girl's face through the covers. He looked at her warily, dipping his head down to try and meet her eyes.

“Uh, yeah, actually. Do you know me? I mean, do I know you? Everything's a little fuzzy since...”

Chrissy came out from her duvet cocoon and sat up, looking him square in the face. “Holy shit. I thought you were...they said you were-”

“Dead?” he grinned at her cheekily, bouncing a little on his heels. For someone who'd recently lost his life, he seemed to have a lot of nervous energy. “Yeah, I, uh, guess I'm not as dead as everyone thought. I mean, I am dead. But I'm still...here? Like, kind of. So I guess that makes me-”

“A ghost? Holy fucking shit, Eddie Munson's ghost is in my room.”

“You got a mouth on you, sailor,” he said, looking at her appreciatively. It made her feel a little funny, which is not how she expected to feel with an actual, real-live ghost in her room.

“Ok, um, I have a lot of questions. How are you here, in my room, and also why? How did you die? Can you walk through walls? Or are you a poltergeist, like in that movie? Also, how did you plug in my radio? I thought ghosts were incorporeal. And how do I know this isn't a dream?”

Eddie gave a low whistle and slid his hands into his pockets. “Hang on a minute. I'm pretty new to this whole thing, so bear with me. How about I tell you what I know and we'll go from there, yeah? First, I've got a couple questions.”

“Oh yeah, sorry.”

“How did you know who I was?”

“You, uh, look a lot like your sister. She's on the cheer squad with us.”

“Oh god, Taylor. How's she holding up?”

“I'm not sure, sorry. She wasn't in school today, but I assume not great.” She suddenly felt a wave of guilt that she hadn't even thought to check on the girl; for all she knew, no one else had either. Thankfully, Eddie didn't press her on it too hard.

“Today, so...what's today?”

“Monday. The 7th of December.”

“Ok, so it's only been two days since it happened. Funny, it feels like a lot of time has passed. And, um, sorry, what was your name? Still working on my ghost manners.”

“It's Christine, but everyone calls me Chrissy.”

“Chrissy. I like it.” He looked at her then, dark brown eyes boring through hers, making her feel a strange sense of awe. Some part of her, which was mostly tucked away just then, tried to ask why she wasn't scared, tried to say this must be a really vivid dream, but she didn't really want to listen to that part.

“Ok, so why don't you tell me what you know, or what you remember, and we'll figure this thing out.”

“Alright,” Eddie said, clapping his hands together and pacing around the room. “So, I remember bits and pieces of the last couple of days, although there are definitely some weird gaps in my memory. I remember my life before then, like my friends and hobbies and shit. And I remember waking up, if you can call it that, here in your room a few hours ago.”

“God, you've been here for hours? Were you here when I was...getting changed?” She felt her face heat up and diverted her eyes.

“No, no...I mean, I was, but I didn't look, promise. I simply perused your massive collection of books and picked out a few good ones. The Princess Bride, for instance. Great taste, I must say.”

Chrissy sighed, relieved. “Ok, so why am I only now seeing you, and why did you wake up here and not, like, anywhere else? I don't think we've ever even met.”

“Um, not sure about the second question. I didn't do anything to come here, specifically. As far as the other one, I actually have spent the last few hours trying to...I guess you'd call it manifesting?”

“Manifesting?”

“Yeah, like, I was here, but I couldn't touch anything. I tried for a while, and got frustrated, then I gave up and started reading with you.”

“Oh my god, did you turn my pages?”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, you know, you were falling asleep, and I wanted to keep reading, because what the hell else is there to do when you're a fucking ghost? Sorry if I scared you.”

“What really scared me was when you turned on the radio.”

“Oh yeah, that. Well, like I said, not much for me to do, and I assume ghosts don't sleep, so I spent a little while trying to turn on the radio so I could at least listen to music. Quietly, or at least that was the idea. I'm still getting used to all this, so I might have put in a little too much energy and turned the volume way up. My bad.”

Chrissy shook her head. “It's fine, I'm with you so far. So it took you some time to figure out how to touch things. How did we go from that to me seeing you here?”

Eddie gave a little shrug. “Once I was able to channel my...ghost vibes, or ectoplasm, or whatever-”

“Please don't say ectoplasm.”

“Okay, my spiritual energy, into moving or touching things, then I could just move that energy outwards until I was visible. It's still taking some energy to maintain this form, but the more I do it, the easier it gets, so I hope you don't mind. And also sorry about being in your room, and being here when you changed, and just...the whole thing. Ask anyone, I'm usually much more of a gentleman, but, you know, circumstances being what they are...”

“Don't worry about it. Also, I don't think I've said this yet, but I'm sorry you died. That really sucks.”

“Yeah, well, I'm here now. For what it's worth.”

“You really don't remember how it happened?”

“I...remember some things, like I said. If I try and concentrate I feel like more will come back to me, but I don't want to push it too much. This whole thing feels kind of tenuous, and I don't want to go just yet. I need to see my friends, and Taylor, and my uncle, and hopefully in a way that they can see me. I need to...say goodbye.” Eddie sat on the edge of Chrissy's bed, rubbing his hands on his knees nervously in what she assumed was an old habit.

“It's fine, Eddie. Take all the time you need. Now that I know you're not going to like, possess me or knock all my stuff off the shelves you can stay here as long as you want. Just, um, maybe look away if I get undressed, yeah?”

Eddie huffed a laugh. “Yeah, you got it. Thanks, Chrissy. I'm...I know we never met, but I'm actually really glad I landed here and not one of the douchey football player's rooms. They'd probably find a way to kick my ass from beyond the grave.”

Chrissy laughed. “If it's okay with you, I'm going to try and sleep. Still have school and stuff in the morning. Do you, um...you said ghosts didn't need to sleep, right?”

“I mean, I assume so but I haven't actually tried it. I'll just chill in that cozy-looking beanbag over there and see what happens. You gonna be okay?”

“Sure, why wouldn't I be?”

Eddie shrugged. “I get the feeling people don't check on you very often.”

Chrissy wasn't sure what to say to that, so she simply nestled onto her pillow and sighed. “Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you...just make sure you don't, like, go into the light or whatever. I want to help you out here, so if I wake up and you've moved onto the next astral plane, I'll be really mad.”

Eddie smiled warmly at her and squeezed her ankle briefly; the cool force of his touch felt a little electric. “I'll do my best, your highness.”

–

When Chrissy woke up later than normal, she found the bedroom to be colder than she expected. She glanced over at the ratty beanbag which hadn't had much use over the last few years (although she'd pitched a fit when her mom tried to throw it away) and saw Eddie with his head leaning on his shoulder. He looked much more translucent than he had the previous night, which made Chrissy's anxiety spike suddenly.

“Eddie! Eddie, wake up!”

The boy woke with a start and glanced at Chrissy, looking a little perturbed.

“Morning, sunshine. Everything cool?”

“You're all...clear. Like you're fading away or something.” Chrissy was surprised and a little embarrassed at the emotion she heard in her voice.

Eddie held up his hands and cocked his head curiously. “Oh, got it. Give me a second.” He closed his eyes and seemed to be concentrating on something. Chrissy watched him intently, and before she knew it, he began to look much more solid, like a Polaroid picture becoming clearer as it develops. He took a deep breath and smiled at her kindly. “Better?”

Chrissy nodded, swallowing hard to clear up a sudden lump in her throat.

“Yeah, sorry to wake you. I just didn't want you to accidentally disappear when you still have unfinished business.”

“I'm not sure how I know this, but I get the feeling it doesn't work that way. I think I have a little bit of control over what happens to me. Which is certainly more than I can say for my life before all this.”

Chrissy frowned sympathetically, earning a smile from Eddie. “Relax, just a little gallows humor.”

“You know, for someone who's dead you seem to be coping pretty well with all this.”

“I know, right? Maybe I'm still in the denial stage. Then comes anger and bargaining-”

“And depression and acceptance.”

Eddie gave her a scrutinizing look. “Spoken like someone who's read a lot of pamphlets.”

“Mm-hm.” Chrissy started to gather up her hair to tie into a ponytail. “You mean ones with big titles like 'Weathering the Storm of Grief' or 'How to Find the Silver Lining in the Clouds of Life'.”

“It's always about rain and clouds with those people, isn't it? You know, when my dad died, the first thing the funeral director said to me was 'You can't have a rainbow without a little rain.' Like, hey man, my dad just overdosed and I'm nine years old and can't stop picturing his face. Maybe read the room, you know?”

Chrissy felt the blood drain from her face and knew she must have gone pale. “Jesus, Eddie.”

“Sorry, that...I haven't really talked about that with anyone in a long time. I could always tell when he was on something because he would walk around all scratched and bruised from bumping into shit. And he would start slurring his words a lot. Taylor always thought he was just a drunk, and I didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise. And he would always get this look on his face, like he didn't even know who I was. I just kept thinking about him being buried like that, with that same lost look for eternity. At least until the bugs got him. We couldn't afford the really good, steel coffin so I assume they got in there eventually.”

Chrissy almost laughed; her mother had actually sprung for the best coffin in the funeral home for her father, as if it would make any difference. She'd thought it was the most absurd thing; he was already dead, and it wasn't like spending more money to keep him away from the elements was going to do anything for him.

What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Did you...lose someone?”

“Yeah, my dad, a while ago. It was an accident at work, he, um, fell and broke his neck.”

“Fuck, that's rough. I'm sorry, Chrissy.” He went silent for a minute, watching the birds puff themselves up and sing their hearts out. “It's weird, you know. Me showing up here. I think you're the only other person in town who's lost their father.”

“No, there's...actually, yeah, now that you mention it. It kind of sucks being the only one. Obviously I don't want anyone to lose a parent, but it's like no one else knows how much it changes everything. How you see the world differently, how everyone else's problems seem so-”

“Small?”

Chrissy nodded. “Do you think we would have been friends if you hadn't died?”

“Hmm.” Eddie pursed his lips and squatted down, the rips in his ghostly jeans showing pale strips of flesh. She found her eyes drawn to them, wondering if he'd bought them that way or systematically cut the fabric with a pocket knife for aesthetic purposes. “I think...given our proclivity for running in certain social circles, that we would have been two lonely ships passing in the night, never knowing each other's hidden depths but feeling a certain magnetic pull nonetheless.”

“I think you overestimate my 'social circle'. I'm literally only in cheer so I can get out of the house, and so my mom doesn't nag me about being depressed. I'd honestly rather stay in and read most of the time.”

“Really? No other passions ignite the heart of the innocent cheerleader?”

“Passions, huh? You mean dating?”

“I mean whatever you mean.”

“Well...” Chrissy blushed a little and pulled a small notebook out of her bedside drawer. In it, Eddie saw a configuration of lines and dots with words written in small, cramped writing.

“What's Delphinus?”

“It's a constellation. There are 87 other officially recognized constellations, and they help people find other stars that may not be as bright. It's called star hopping. So, you go out at night with some decent binoculars, and you find a constellation, right? Then you look at a star hopping chart, and use that constellation as a guide to find another star that's a certain angle or distance away. It's kind of like bird watching, if small birds were always accompanied by a much bigger bird.”

“Or like when Prince opened for the Stones in LA a few years ago. Although I heard that didn't go very well.”

Chrissy giggled. “Yeah, something like that. Sometimes I feel like one of those little pale stars. Like when I do a cheer routine with the other girls at a big game, and no one would even think to look at me if I wasn't surrounded by a bunch of fun, popular, pretty people. I kind of like the idea of going out of my way to acknowledge the stars that everyone forgets about.”

“There are an awful lot of stars up there, you know. Gonna take you a while.”

“Yeah, well, what else is there to do in Hawkins?”

“Good point.”

“Oh, damn, it's already 7:40. I need to get going if I'm going to be at school on time.”

“No worries, I'll be here. I'm not too keen to try going outside without you there.”

“Me?” Chrissy was taken aback.

“Yeah, I mean...I know it's weird to say since I'm already dead, but I feel a lot more secure knowing you're here and you can see and hear me. I mean, I showed up in your room for some cosmic and mysterious reason, so we must be linked in some way. Maybe we were past-life lovers or something.”

She blushed and bit back a sudden smile. “You believe in all that reincarnation stuff?”

“Well, given the circumstances...” he gestured vaguely to himself. “I'd say I don't know what I fucking believe anymore. Except that I really do need you, Chrissy. You're my last link to the world, to my friends, to every good and bad thing I ever did.”

His dark eyes pierced through hers and she felt a rush of protectiveness for Eddie. She had spent most of her life feeling like an accessory to her family and friends, putting on a pretty show but always feeling a little disconnected from everyone, especially since her father's death. But Eddie had no one else to turn to, had no idea why he was even still on earth in some form. She strode two steps forward and took his calloused hand in hers; it felt almost weightless under her grip.

“I promise, Eddie. You just work on not disappearing and I'll do everything I can for you. Maybe we can even figure out how you died.”

“One thing at a time, princess.”

Chrissy scoffed. “Just stay out of trouble, farm boy.”

“As you wish.” He threw her a wink as she turned to leave.

--

Chrissy's leg jiggled impatiently as she half-listened to that day's history lecture; she glanced at the yellowed wall clock for the hundredth time that day, willing it to move faster. She's gotten to school with a new sense of purpose, hoping if she started asking around about Eddie and getting to know his friends, she could find out more about what had brought the boy to his early end. The rest of the school body had moved on from the news of Eddie's death quickly enough, sharing the latest gossip about who Madonna was dating at the moment. She noticed that Taylor still wasn't in class and felt awful that she hadn't even thought to check on the girl, preferring to bury her nose in a book and shrug her shoulders at the whole ordeal. When had she gotten so callous about other people's lives?

At last, the bell rang and she made her way to the lunchroom; she grabbed an apple just to have something to hold onto. Chrissy felt oddly nervous about what she was about to do and kind of hoped no one at her usual spot would notice she wasn't there. She made her way to the table at the back of the lunch room where Eddie's friend group sat, still looking pale and solemn. Their chairs were pushed close to each other as they picked at the cheap school lunch, like they were afraid they would lose another member if they didn't keep a watchful eye out. As she approached, a boy with pointed features and longish hair eyed her with suspicion.

“Um, hi, I'm sorry to bother you guys. I was wondering if I could sit for a minute. I, um...I'm friends with Taylor, you know, on the cheer squad, and she hasn't been to school. Is she doing ok?”

“If you're friends, why don't you go to her house and ask her how she's doing?,” the boy said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I...we're not, like, super close, and I didn't want to pry with everything going on. I was just concerned. My name's Chrissy, by the way. Chrissy Cunningham.”

The boy's face softened slightly. “Oh yeah, I know you. My sister said you were cool. You know, Nancy Wheeler?”

Chrissy remembered Nancy from the girl's brief but overall disastrous attempt to join the cheerleading squad in her freshman year. She had sprained an ankle trying a complete a back handspring in her tryout and nearly burst into tears. The other girls had snickered at her, but for some reason Chrissy had felt bad for the girl and helped her hobble to the nurses office. After that, she had gained a reputation for fierce intelligence and resilience, and she couldn't help admire the girl's dramatic transformation from afar.

“Yeah, of course. Does that make you her younger brother? I'm sorry, I don't-”

“It's Mike Wheeler.” He cocked his head to the boy next to him, who was wearing a gaudy shirt and tricolor cap. “This is Dustin.”

Dustin waved halfheartedly but didn't meet Chrissy's eyes. “Greetings, popular one. You know, I'm surprised you didn't burst into flames on your way over here.”

“Dude, be cool,” Mike said. “Sorry, we're all a little bit...”

“It's fine, I can't imagine how hard it's been for you guys.” She slid cautiously into a chair and set her apple down, noticing the table wobble with the slight weight. “I guess I also wanted to see how you all were doing. I mean, it kind of feels like everyone else...it's weird, but they don't seem to-”

“Give a shit?” A boy wearing a plaid vest and sullen face spoke up. “Yeah, don't think we didn't notice no one else in this school could muster up anything even resembling sympathy. The only people who have even talked to us directly are the fucking cops.”

“Really? Do you mind if I ask what they wanted? That whole thing at the assembly, about staying inside after dark kind of freaked me out, honestly.”

“They talked to all of us,” Mike said with disdain. “They refused to say anything about what happened, but they asked us a thousand questions. When was the last time you saw Eddie? What kind of mood was he in, what kind of car did he drive? Did he have any enemies or ties to illegal shit? And yeah, so what if he sold fucking pot? People in this town are such hypocrites. He wouldn't have been selling if all the nice, Christian kids weren't buying. No offense.”

“No worries. Do you guys have any theories on what happened?”

“Sorry, but why should we tell you?” Dustin piped up. “I thought you were worried about Taylor. What are you, like a student journalist or something?”

“No! I'm...I'm sorry, I'm not very good with this stuff. I guess I feel bad that I never got to know him while I had the chance. He seemed like a really good guy.”

“Did you have a crush on him or something?” the boy in the plaid vest asked slyly.

Chrissy laughed, burying her face in her hands.

“Go easy on her, guys.” Mike said, leaning forward. “Look, you don't have to be all coy. If you want to know what Eddie was like, we'll all tell you. Eddie was... you wouldn't know it from his GPA, but he was really smart. He could write the most intense D&D session that would have you on the edge of your seat for weeks. Even when we went way off book, he could improvise like he was Tolkien. He wrote Lord of-”

“Yeah, I know who Tolkien is.”

“Ok, name three elf characters.”

“Really? You're going to test my knowledge?”

Mike cocked an eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes. “Legolas, Galadriel and and Arwen.”

“Not bad,” Dustin muttered. “But if you want to impress the ladies, Mike, don't talk about D&D. Talk about how Eddie could shred guitar like he was in Van Halen or something.”

“Oh yeah, totally. Like, he could listen to a song on the radio once, maybe twice, and within a week he'd be able to play it himself. Dude was a savant. He...always talked about how he wanted to play Madison Square Garden.”

“A couple of us were in a band together. We played at this divey kind of place, up on Hillcrest, called The Hideout,” the boy in the vest said, looking wistful.

“I wish I'd gotten a chance to see you guys. Do you think you'll play again?”

He shrugged, rubbing his thumb against the edge of the table. “It wouldn't really be the same.”

“Neither would D&D,” Dustin said, voice trembling.

Chrissy had to blink back tears looking at the boys; it was clear the heart had been unceremoniously ripped out of the group. She couldn't even feel that angry at the other students for acting so uncaring; if Eddie hadn't manifested in her bedroom, she'd still be one of them.

“I'm really sorry, you guys. I wish there was something I could do.”

Mike shook his head and cleared his throat. “It's cool, Chrissy. It's nice to talk about him like this. Feels a little bit like he's still here, as long as we remember how badass and brave and fun he was.”

“You die a second time when someone says your name for the last time. When my dad died, that was one of the only things that actually made me feel better about it all.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't know. What was your dad's name?”

“Thomas.”

Mike smiled and raised his chocolate milk in a toast. “To Thomas.”

Chrissy smiled back and raised her apple. “To Eddie.”

As she made her way out of the lunch room to find solace alone, she realized she would have to pass by her usual seat where the cheerleaders and basketball players congregated. She couldn't help but notice that Jason and a few of his most loyal lackeys weren't in their usual spots.

“Heyy, Chrissy!” called out one of the boys in a grating, almost taunting way. It was Devon Murphy, another jerk who had a reputation for getting girls too drunk at parties.

She forced a tight smile as she slid past the table, hoping to extricate herself as quickly as possible.

“Hey, Devon, sorry I don't feel very good, I-”

“What in the hell are you doing hanging out with those little weirdos?” the boy asked, ignoring her discomfort and putting her on the spot. “Don't tell me you give a shit about the freaks all of a sudden.”

“Yeah, Chris, since when do you care about anything besides sticking your nose in books?” sneered a senior girl named Jessica.

“I...I care about a lot of things. Just because I keep to myself sometimes doesn't mean-”

“Yeah, okay. You know, Jason told everyone about how you blew him off yesterday. He was pretty pissed about it but said he'd give you another chance. You know, once you stop hanging out with losers and get your priorities straight.”

“My priorities? Sorry, since when do I owe him anything? I thought he and I were friends.”

“Please, Chrissy, don't be such an idiot. Most of the girls on the team would do anything to be with him. He's been trying to get with you for months, and all you do is find reasons to say no.”

“Maybe because I don't like him like that! And for your information, those freaks and I have a lot more in common than any of you do. I lost someone too, and I just wanted to check in on them since no one else seems to have given them a second thought.”

“Yeah, but like, you wouldn't be living in that huge house if your dad hadn't died, right? Maybe you should count yourself lucky.”

Before she could stop herself, Chrissy balled her hand into a fist and hit the wood table hard enough to make everyone sitting there jump. The lunchroom quieted as the other tables turned to see what the commotion was. Jessica looked at her with an almost frightened expression. Chrissy made eye contact with the girl and couldn't remember ever feeling so much hate.

“Maybe you should 'count yourself lucky' I hit the table and not your fucking face,” she spat. Jessica opened and closed her mouth like a fish before looking like she was about to cry. “I'm sorry, Chris-”

“Save it.” She swung her bag over her shoulder forcefully and half-ran out of the room, then down the hall and out the front door. Thankfully no teachers or hall monitors were present to stop her, though if she had encountered anyone she would have gone right past them, possible suspensions be damned.

–

It took all of Chrissy's concentration to drive the short distance home safely. Once she made it inside and saw her mother was out, she went to her bedroom to check on Eddie. She found him curled up on his side on her bed, long hair splayed out on her pillow, looking considerably more solid than he had that morning. Chrissy let her bag drop to the ground and sat on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands. After a minute of trying to choke back sobs, she felt a hand, soft as a feather, on her shoulder.

“Hey,” he said sleepily. “You okay?”

“Oh yeah. I'm great,” she mumbled, trying to concentrate on the feel of his palm, which had begun ever so gently kneading her shoulder blade.

His other arm slipped slowly around her waist, pulling her closer. “Is this okay?”

She sighed a little dreamily. “Yeah, actually.”

Eddie adjusted himself to make room for her, and she lay down, letting him shuffle close until they were almost spooning.

“You know, my mom would flip shit if she knew I was doing this with a boy.”

He chuckled, running his fingers through her long hair. The coolness of his fingertips felt almost like rushing water on her scalp, and she let herself get lost in the feeling.

“Well, one benefit of having a ghost boy in your room is that I can't get you pregnant. Probably. Although, did you see that one scene in Ghostbusters? With Dan Aykroyd getting-”

“Ughh, stop!” she squealed, wriggling away and laughing.

“Sorry,” he said, grinning. “I didn't mean to ruin a nice moment. I mean, it was nice for me. I don't know if it was for you, but you seemed to need...I mean-”

“It was nice,” she said, turning back towards him and sliding their fingers together. “It still is. Maybe this is really selfish of me, but I'm glad you're here. I always seem to push people away or make them hate me. It's probably my fault, but it feels like I don't have anyone who likes me, or even knows me.”

“I don't believe that,” he said softly. “Who could ever hate you? You know, maybe it's because you're one of the few cool people in a town full of assholes that you feel so alone. You just haven't found where you belong yet.”

Chrissy smiled sadly. “That's what my dad used to say. He was the only person who took the time to know me.” She squeezed his hand and shivered at the feeling of his hair on the back of her neck. “I really wish I'd spent time with you, Eddie. God, I'm such a self-absorbed idiot. If I hadn't been so busy feeling sorry for myself, I could have...we could have...”

“Chris, it's okay. I wasn't exactly in the habit of crossing the social barrier myself.”

“Yeah, only because my asshole friends would make fun of you if you did. They made me feel like shit today, and I came running home because I couldn't handle it. I can't imagine what years of that would do to someone. I completely understand why you guys kept to yourselves. And I was part of it.”

“Stop, no you weren't. You never said a word against any of us.”

“Yeah, but I didn't stand up for you and your friends, either. I never stopped to question why it was okay for everyone to treat you like that. I just spent all this time convincing myself that it wasn't worth bothering myself over.”

“Yeah, well, as the de facto leader of the long-suffering freaks, I officially forgive you. I mean, we're just a bunch of dumb kids figuring ourselves out in the end, right? Not everyone can be the lone hero standing up for what's right.”

She turned herself to face him, smiling sadly.

“Eddie...ever since my dad died, I've felt so lost, like I don't know who I am or what it is I'm supposed to be doing. All my expensive therapists said I was coping so well, that I was getting on with my daily life and that he'd be proud of me. But honestly, I didn't know what else to do besides carry on like everything was fine. He was my best friend, you know? What are you supposed to do when something like that happens? I just figured that it was best to keep my head down and disengage until I figured it out. But there's nothing to figure out, really. He's gone...and you're...I mean you're here, but...god, I'm so stupid.”

“Stop. Please. No one's guaranteed any amount of time, it just depends on what we do with it.”

“I know. It just feels like I'm seeing the people around me for the first time. The ones I thought were my friends are apparently huge assholes-”

“Could have told you that.”

She shoved him lightly and was pleased to feel solid skin beneath her palm. He smiled in a lazy, boyish way that made her insides twist a little. She found herself unconsciously inching closer to close the small gap between them. She could almost smell him faintly; it reminded her of the smell of the damp earth after a rainstorm, though she wondered if she was just imagining it. His fingers tapped a rhythm on her bare arm, and she felt a blush creep into her cheeks.

“You know, your friends told me you were quite the guitar player.”

“You talked to the guys? How are they doing?”

“They're...okay. I mean, as okay as they can be. I feel like they're going to miss you for a long time. You really made an impact on those kids.”

“Man, I miss them already. They tell you about the band? Are they still going to play? If they do, don't let them change the name. Gareth always wanted it to be something 'appealing' but I held fast on Corroded Coffin.”

“Corroded...oh my god. Holy shit, I saw you play.”

“Really? At the Hideout?”

“No, the tenth grade talent show, remember? You had this buzz cut and the principal had to drag you off stage-”

“Right, because I started acting out both parts of 'Paradise by the Dashboard Lights'. But I mean, that's the kind of song where you really have to commit, you know? Not my fault the dude was still into Buddy Holly.”

Chrissy laughed, wondering how she could have forgotten the uproar the scene had caused. She'd written Eddie off as one of the weird kids without a second thought; knowing him now, she saw he was funny and talented and daring. Her heart ached again for what they could have had, though she wasn't sure if he'd even be into her if she had bothered to approach him.

“You good?” he asked, fiddling with the edge of her skirt.

“Mm-hm. Just thinking.”

“About how handsome I am?”

“Something like that.”

“Oh.” He looked taken aback but pleased, and Chrissy thought she saw a slight blush on his high cheekbones. A smile crept onto his face, and she decided to be brave for once in her life.

“Do you think-”

“Chrissy, are you here?”

“Fuck, my mom's back.” Her head whipped around to look for a good hiding spot for Eddie, but her mother's heavy tread came up the stairs before she could locate anything. She thought about telling Eddie to dive under the bed or even cover himself with her duvet, but it was too late.

“Hello, dear,” her mother said as she swung Chrissy's door open. “I wanted to get your opinion on something.”

“O-oh. Uh, sure mom.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Eddie sitting stock still, perhaps hoping that if he didn't move Laura wouldn't spot him. She bit her lip to keep from laughing at the absurd situation. Her mother held up two near-identical blue dresses.

“Do you think the silk or the satin would be most appropriate for Friday's charity gala?”

“Oh gosh, um...which is which again?”

Laura scoffed and held up the one in her right hand. “I think this one is best. It brings out my eyes, you know. How was your day at school?”

“It was fine, they sent us home early-” Chrissy jumped as Eddie clapped his hands hard next to her ear. “Jesus, Ed-” She stopped short and looked at her mother anxiously.

“Chrissy, please. What on earth was that?”

“Oh, sorry mom. I thought I saw a bug on the mattress but it was just a piece of lint.”

“Well, I keep telling you to dust in here. If you don't want to, I can always hire a cleaner-”

“It's fine, mom, I'll clean up later. I just need to catch up on homework first. That dress will look great, I promise.”

“Alright, I'll let you get to it. I'll get dinner started in a bit.”

Chrissy smiled as her mother closed the bedroom door; once she was gone, she let out a long exhale.

“What the hell was that? You're lucky she didn't see you-”

“I'm sorry, Chris, but I had to test it out. Why didn't she see or hear me?” He jumped up and began pacing anxiously around the room. “I mean, are you the only one who can? What about my family? I need to see them. God, how long have I been here?”

“Relax, Eddie, it hasn't even been a day-”

“Yeah, and what if I was only given one day to get my shit together and say goodbye, and I've wasted it sitting here talking to you!”

Chrissy felt her chest constrict and blinked hard to keep tears from forming. “I thought you said you knew how it worked, that you had some control-”

“Yeah, well, maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part. I mean, who fucking knows? I need to go now, I need to see Taylor before it's too late.”

“And what if she can't see you? What if it really is just me?”

“Then let me tell you, of all the cruel jokes this life has played on me, that might be the cruelest of all. I can't talk to my family or my friends, but I get stuck with some cheerleader I hardly know? Fuck, maybe this is my punishment for selling weed and playing devil music for half my life.”

Chrissy sniffled, unable to keep herself from tearing up. “Yeah, didn't I tell you? I'm a fucking demon in disguise.”

“Oh, grow up, Chrissy. Not everything is about you and your inability to cope with anything. If you haven't noticed, I'm fucking dead, so don't start feeling sorry for yourself, because no matter how bad your life is, I'm worse off.”

“I didn't realize it was a competition.”

“I...don't have time for this. I'm just going to go, and if they really can't see me, then at least I'll fade away with them by my side.”

“I thought we were going to figure this out together, Eddie. I thought you needed me.”

Eddie gave her one last pained look before crossing the threshold of her bedroom. “You weren't there for me when I was alive. Why the hell would I need you now?”

The door clicked shut behind him, the sound echoing in Chrissy's mind long after he'd left.

–

After a long and fitful night's sleep, Chrissy awoke the next day hugging a pillow to her chest. It was something she hadn't done for a long time, not since the first days where she'd worked through the pain of losing her father. She pressed it to her face and felt tears well up as it still had the faintest hint of petrichor from where Eddie had laid his head. His harsh final words played over in her head, making her stomach twist into knots. She knew she'd been selfish, keeping him waiting in her room like a pet while she was at school. It wouldn't have been a big deal to take one day off to focus on him, especially considering neither of them knew how much time he had before he'd be gone forever. She scoffed at herself disdainfully; even when a literal ghost appeared in her room, she was still more concerned about her perfect attendance record. Part of her wanted to try and find him, but where would she start? She was half-considering going to his uncle's house when her mother knocked sharply.

“Chrissy, are you awake? Didn't you say school let out early yesterday?”

“Uh, yeah, why?”

“That's interesting, because one of the counselors called me and said you took off in the middle of the day.”

Oh shit. “Uhh, sorry, I wasn't really feeling well-”

“Please, dear, haven't we moved past all this? I thought you were coping with everything.”

“I was, I mean I am, I just-”

“Well, I had to convince them not to give you detention, so you'd better get yourself there on time and don't start any trouble, young lady. I have too much at stake in this community to have a troublemaking daughter running around.”

Chrissy smiled grimly. “Sure, mom, I'll behave myself.” Like one of those purebred poodles the neighbors pay three grand for.

“That's my girl! I have lots of things to take care of so I'll be late.”

Chrissy sighed and dragged herself out of bed, wondering what her next move was. Even if Eddie was rightfully done with her, she still had a feeling something was amiss about his death. She knew the local cops wouldn't give her anything to go off of, but maybe they'd talked to his family? She knew Nancy worked for the school paper; maybe they could team up and figure this whole thing out. As she got dressed for the day, her eyes kept flicking back towards her alarm clock, hoping just a little bit that it would switch itself on and start playing loud music.

–

Chrissy sat alone at one of the lunch tables at the back of the room, fiddling with the opening of her milk carton and scanning the nearby tables. She vaguely knew where the students who were into journalism and yearbook sat, though she wanted to go directly to Nancy and minimize the chance of running into any of the other cheerleaders or athletes. They had mostly given her the cold shoulder that morning, and she'd been glad to return the favor. After a while she spotted the girl, dressed in a cream turtleneck and speaking intently with another student. Chrissy grimaced nervously as she approached the group, hoping they wouldn't actively shun her.

“I mean, there are any number of possibilities here, we can't just-” Nancy cut herself off mid-conversation to look at the approaching cheerleader with her large and piercing eyes. Chrissy found herself a little tongue-tied and almost withered under Nancy's gaze.

“Hi?” Nancy said questioningly after a long pause.

“Uh, hi, Nancy? Um, sorry to bother you, I just...do you remember me at all?”

“Sure, Chrissy, right? How are you?”

The girl chuckled bashfully and cleared her throat. “I...great. I mean, okay. You know, it's...it's an odd time with everything going on.”

“Everything? You mean Eddie's death? Did you know him?”

“Uh...I mean, kind of? I'm trying to get to know him, which, kind of late for that now, right?” Oh my god, are you incapable of having a normal conversation?

Nancy's mouth quirked up in a smile. “Do you want to go for a walk, Chrissy? Maybe talk privately?”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Nancy threw a look at the friend she'd been speaking to, and he nodded and started gathering up some papers that had been strewn about. She led Chrissy out of the room and down towards the running track. They began to walk a slow loop around the track, although there were a few girls running laps around them.

“Jesus, they must be freezing out here,” Chrissy said with concern.

“Yeah. Some of them come out here during lunch instead of eating, then they go home and tell their parents they had a big lunch. It's really awful.”

“Oh...yeah. Well, you know. Some people don't want to accept help, I guess. They close themselves off until things get so bad that people can't help but notice.”

Nancy looked at her with a searching gaze; if she didn't know any better, she'd swear the other girl could see right through her.

“Do you want to tell me what's so bad, Chrissy? What is it that you need help with? I promise, I'm here for you.”

“Oh, um, nothing! I mean, it's fine, everything's fine. I'm fine. It's just, I've been having this experience for the last day or so.”

“An experience? Okay, what's been happening?”

“Well...” She searched Nancy's face for any hint of disdain or judgment.

Nancy took her cold hand between hers, which were somehow still warm. “Everything we discuss stays between us, Chrissy, you have my word.”

“As a fledgling journalist?”

“As a friend.”

The same warm feeling that had filled Chrissy's chest when speaking to Eddie came to her now. She hadn't talked to Nancy in years, but she acted like no time had passed between them. She felt herself trusting the other girl's intentions.

“Okay, so I know this sounds really crazy, trust me. The night before last, I woke up in the middle of the night and Eddie Munson was in my room. Like, in ghost form. And he was there yesterday, but we kind of fought, and he took off to try and see his family, and I haven't seen him since.”

Nancy looked taken aback a moment, and Chrissy considered running and not looking back until she reached another school district. “I'm sorry, it's...I'm probably just hallucinating or something. Maybe I've finally snapped.”

Nancy shook her head, making her voluminous hair bounce a little. “No, please don't say that. I believe you, Chrissy. You are being serious, aren't you? Because if this is something the other cheerleaders have put you up to-”

“I promise, I would not say this out loud, even as a prank, if I didn't believe it. He was there, and we talked. We even lay down in my bed together.”

The other girl quirked an eyebrow but didn't comment further. “Okay, if you're serious, I have something I should tell you too. There's, uh, some things that go on in Hawkins that a lot of people don't know about. Do you have some time?”

Chrissy knew she should get back in time for her next class to avoid another call home to her mother. Something in Nancy's blazing eyes called to her though, and for the first time in a long time, she found herself eager to know more about someone else's strange life.

“Sure.”

–

They made their way to a milkshake shop, and for the next hour, Chrissy was regaled with stories of parallel dimensions, government cover-ups, tragic deaths and a girl with otherworldly powers.

“Oh, so that's why the mall burned down, huh? The other cheerleaders were pissed when that happened.”

Nancy laughed, nearly choking on her vanilla bean milkshake. “That's your takeaway from all this? I just told you about, like, fifty mind-blowing things and your concern is the Starcourt Mall?”

Chrissy shrugged, swirling her straw into what was left of her orange float. “They had a really good bookstore.”

“You do believe me, right? Like, I know ghosts existing is a big thing to wrap your head around, but it's kind of small potatoes compared to the things I've seen.”

“I do, actually. If ghosts are real, why the hell shouldn't the rest be? God, I always thought Indiana was so boring.”

“Oh, there are definitely points of interest, if you know where to look.”

Chrissy smiled and wondered if the rumors and Nancy dating the cute photographer were true.

“So have you been able to find anything out? About Eddie, I mean.”

“A bit, yeah. Thankfully, death certificates are public record in this state. The cause of death is...concerning.”

“How so?”

“Well, it lists the primary cause of death as 'blunt force trauma' but that could mean anything. Then my editor and I were thinking, why would they hold that rally and scare a bunch of kids and parents unless there was someone, or something, really dangerous out there. So we started looking for any unusual deaths that have taken place recently and...” Nancy brandished a neatly folded newspaper article and placed it on the table.

Chrissy unfolded it and saw the headline of the article, “Local Vagrant Beaten to Death, Authorities Still Looking for Leads.”

“Jesus.”

“I know. Keep reading.”

The article was from a few months ago, and it detailed how, in the early morning hours of September 19, a jogger had stumbled upon the body of Drew Morrison, a thirty-six year old homeless man who'd presumably been attacked. Both his arms and legs had been broken and twisted in sickening fashion, and even his jaw was left broken and askew.

“His eyes. They...they gouged out his eyes?”

Nancy nodded grimly.

“I never even heard about this.”

“Yeah, well they kept it on page eight at the very bottom of that day's paper. It's not exactly light morning reading. Between you and me, the Post is going under, and they have to sell papers, you know?”

“Do they know who did this?”

Nancy nodded slightly at the paper Chrissy was holding. “Know what 'authorities still looking for leads' means?”

“That they have no leads and aren't actually looking? Because he was homeless, right? I mean, why bother using resources on this?”

“Mm-hm. That's Hawkins police for you.”

“Fuckers,” Chrissy muttered.

Nancy laughed and crossed her arms. “You know, you're a little different than I thought you'd be. More fiery.”

Chrissy shrugged, smiling. “I tend to keep that part of myself under wraps. Makes it easier to blend into the background.”

“And does that make you happy?”

She met the other girl's hard gaze. “I thought this was about Eddie.”

“Just wondering, is all.”

“So...you think this has to do with him?”

“Maybe. I'm going to head over to his uncle's place after school. I tried to call earlier but the phone was disconnected.”

“Interesting.”

“Very. Want to come with?”

“Absolutely.”

–

As Nancy pulled up to the dilapidated trailer, a scruffy-looking dog in the next yard began to bark. Chrissy followed her up to the door with some trepidation; she hadn't been in a neighborhood like this since she was a child.

“Don't worry, Chris, they won't bite.”

Nancy knocked firmly three times; when no one answered, she stage whispered, “Look through the window.”

“What?”

“See if anyone's home.”

Chrissy stood on her toes and peered through the screened window; an older man lay on the couch with a guitar stood up next to him.

“Someone's in there. It must be his uncle.”

“If you all are from the Hawkins Post again, pardon my language but you can kindly fuck off.”

Chrissy jumped and nearly fell backwards, but Nancy kept her composure.

“Mr. Munson? Wayne Munson? We're not from the Post, we're actually students at the school that Eddie attended. We were hoping you could help us. A lot of the students are concerned that they're unsafe, that what happened to Eddie could happen to them.”

Wayne chuckled darkly from inside the trailer. “I doubt that very much. Whatever killed my nephew was most assuredly not human, possibly not of this world. As long as you kids quit messing around in those woods at night you should be alright.”

The two girls exchanged a meaningful look. “Mr. Munson, please. Eddie had a lot of close friends, and they want to know who or what took their friend away. Anything you tell us could be of great help.”

Chrissy held her breath in anticipation; after a minute the man unlocked the door and beckoned them inside. “Make it quick, girls, I've got work in an hour.”

They took a seat at a wooden table that had likely seen many impromptu game sessions. Nancy surreptitiously pulled out a small notebook.

“First of all, sir, I wanted to say how sorry I am for your loss-”

“You know, it's funny, barely anyone's said that to me since it happened. Not the cops, not the neighbors, not even the guys at the plant. Guess he wasn't exactly a pillar of the community, was he?”

“You wouldn't say that if you saw the guys he played D&D with. I talked to them yesterday, they were pretty inconsolable.” Nancy flashed a warning look at her but Wayne seemed to take her comment in stride.

“He was just like me in that way. Not exactly a barrel of sunshine to everyone, but the people he loved, he loved as hard and as much as he could. Feel bad for those kids. That's the only reason I'm talking to you now. I don't want to see this in the damn school newsletter or the yearbook, you hear?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Munson. This stays between us.”

“Call me Wayne.”

“Wayne, what can you tell us about Eddie's death?”

He sighed, looking older and worn down. “Nothing but what they told me down at the station. On Saturday night going on into Sunday morning, someone found his body on the outskirts of the woods. All his...limbs were broken like they were toothpicks. His eyes...god, he had his momma's eyes. When I saw him in the morgue, they were gone, just two sockets where they used to be. No one could tell me a thing about what happened or who could have done this to him. They put his time of death around 11:40 that night.”

Chrissy had a sudden flash of her alarm clock, glowing strongly in the darkness of her room the night she'd been woken up.

11:47 PM.

She clenched her teeth together, fighting off a sudden urge to scream.

“They pulled us into a rally on Monday and told us to stay together and stay out of the woods. Do they have any idea who did this? Any leads at all?”

“The cops in this town couldn't find a string if it was tied around their necks. Only thing I know is that...ah hell, it hardly matters now but I'm ashamed to say it.”

“Go ahead, Wayne. This stays between us.”

“He and I had an argument earlier in the day. Some little schoolgirl smoked some pot he'd sold her and didn't so well on her exams, and her mother gave me hell in the vegetable aisle. Said my nephew was a menace and a burden to the town. So I told him to cut that shit out if he ever wanted to graduate and do something with his life, and he said the only reason I cared about it now was that I'd been publicly embarrassed. Can't say he was wrong, in any case.”

“I'm sorry, Wayne. I'm sure you guys would have made up.”

“Yeah, well...nothing for it now, you know? Gotta keep going for Taylor, if not for me.”

“She hasn't been in school,” Chrissy piped up. “Is she doing okay?”

Wayne was quiet for a moment, looking contemplatively at the girls. “Hasn't been doing too well, actually. Been getting bad headaches, nosebleeds. Not sleeping through the night since it happened. Can't blame her, though. He was everything to her, her hero. I haven't told her exactly how it happened or what he looked like. Figured she's got enough nightmares as it is.”

“Can I see her? She's on the cheer squad with me, and it might help to-”

“Cheer squad, eh?” His face took on a sour look. “You know, Eddie encouraged her to try out for it, but from what I hear she's been getting a lot of comments about how her uniform doesn't fit right or how she can't concentrate on the routines. You girls ever think about why that is? About how maybe the uniform is borrowed from a neighbor's girl who graduated, or she can't think straight half the time because the cops are over here every other damn night banging on someone's door. You two would be in the same boat if you were in her position.”

Chrissy fell silent, feeling chagrined.

“We understand, Mr. Munson. You know, when I tried out for the squad a long time ago, Chrissy here was the only one who helped me up after I fell. She's not one of the mean ones, I promise.”

“Well, if you say so, missy. She's the second door down on the right, can't miss her.”

Chrissy nodded a thanks to Nancy and made her way to Taylor's door. She knocked softly and saw the door was already open a crack. She opened it to find the girl sitting cross-legged on her bed, thin headphones hidden inside her hair and a Walkman in her hand.

“Hey Taylor, I just came by to check in on you and your uncle. What are you listening to?”

Taylor's eyes, so much like Eddie's, gazed at her owlishly. “My neighbor let me borrow this for the week. We don't really have a music player, but she knew...I have to promise not to damage it, it's expensive.”

“I bet.” Chrissy fought down a wave of guilt, knowing she had at least two spare Walkmans that had been lost somewhere in the shuffle of her bedroom.

Taylor lifted the headphones from her curly hair and placed them delicately on Chrissy's ears.

Winter is here again, oh lord

Chrissy gasped and had to hold back tears as Taylor watched her. It was the same Journey song that Eddie had played the night he had showed up in her room.

“Is this your favorite song, Taylor?”

“I mean, I like it, but it was really Eddie's song. He used to play that metal stuff when he was with his friends, but secretly he really liked Journey and bands like that. Oh, and that other song, California Dreamin? He would play that on guitar for hours and make Wayne so mad. He used to talk about going to California and seeing the ocean a lot. He never left Indiana, you know. I told him people are the same there as they are here. He said at least in California there was sunshine every day, and you could be anything you wanted. Here you were just...you know.”

Chrissy nodded, understanding what she meant. “Taylor, I'm so sorry about what happened. And I'm sorry I haven't been by until now.”

“It's fine. Up until now no one else has even bothered.”

“Your uncle said you've been having nightmares?”

Taylor pursed her lips and her eyes flicked to Chrissy's face. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Taylor slid off the bed and quietly closed the door.

“Chrissy, I haven't told this to my uncle yet, but I'm...maybe I'm just being crazy, but I feel like whatever happened to Eddie is going to happen to me. I know something really messed up happened to him. They thought I was asleep when they talked in the kitchen, but I heard something about broken bones and warning the kids in town. Chrissy, he was having headaches and nosebleeds a few weeks before it happened, same as me. And last night I had this...I guess you'd call it a vision. I was in the bathroom, and everything was normal, and all of a sudden I see him in the mirror. Eddie was there, only it was a messed up version of him. His eyes were gone, and his arm bones were at these crazy angles. He said something about how he was in hell and he didn't want to be alone, and how I should just give up and join him. Then Wayne was there too, talking about what a burden I was and how glad he was that Eddie was gone, how that was one less mouth to feed. I screamed until Wayne showed up, like real Wayne, and asked what was wrong. I told him I was just having a nightmare, how I'd fallen asleep in the tub, but I don't know if he believed me.”

“Oh my god.”

“Ever since, I haven't been able to shake that feeling. The only thing that helps is listening to those two songs on repeat. But I have to give this back soon-”

“I'll bring you one. I'm sure I have an extra somewhere.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. If it's the only thing that makes you feel better, it's the least I can do.”

Taylor smiled for the first time and slipped the headphones back on. “Thanks, Chrissy. I always knew you were nice.”

“It does get easier, you know. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but you'll get there. He'd be proud of you, Taylor.”

Chrissy stood to hug the girl before leaving, hoping she could keep Taylor's fears at bay for at least a little while.

–

She filled Nancy in on what she had learned as they drove back to Chrissy's house.

“Okay, so Drew and Eddie died in extremely similar ways. And now Taylor is having the same symptoms Eddie did before he died.”

“Yeah, it's very fucking eerie. I'm worried about her, Nancy. Do you think this has to do with the Upside Down?”

“It's definitely possible. I need to talk to Mike and Dustin and see if they know anything.”

“Okay, keep me posted. In the meantime, I need to catch up on trig homework.”

Nancy gave her a sly smile but said nothing.

“What? We have a test on Friday.”

“I know. Just...we're kind of facing a big thing here. You know, the afterlife, alternate dimensions, potential for additional horrific murders.”

“Hopefully the only horrific murder will be my mom chewing me out for skipping class again.”

“Are you really that afraid of her, Chris?”

“I'm not afraid, I just want to not make waves with her. She's so concerned about appearances and perfect grades and me getting into a good school or whatever. Ever since my dad died, I've just been trying to make things easier on her.”

“What about being easy on yourself? I'm sure at the end of the day she'd rather you be passionate and engaged with the world, even if it means making trouble sometimes.”

“Well, it's easy for you to say. You have the resilience and intelligence to back it all up. I guess I'm afraid that if I put myself out there more, it won't be good enough for anyone.”

“You'd rather be disconnected from everything?”

“Right now I'd rather go home and have dinner than continue this conversation.”

“At least you're being forthright.”

Chrissy laughed and rolled her eyes.

–

As Chrissy slipped quietly into her bedroom and shut the door behind her, she was met with a sudden chill. She wondered if she had left the window open, but quickly enough she saw the reason for the cold. Eddie was back, curled up on her bed in a nearly fetal position; he had wrapped his long arms around himself and looked to be flickering in and out of reality, his skin deathly pale.

“Oh my God, Eddie!” She quickly dropped her bag and wrapped herself around him, feeling his form give under the weight of her embrace.

“No, no, please, come back to me, don't do this, Eddie, please!” she begged, not knowing if he could even hear her. He was shaking and muttering something she couldn't make out; she reached up to take his face in her hands.

“Eddie, I'm here, okay, don't worry, I'm right here, you're not going anywhere.”

“C-cold,” he managed to get out between flickers. “I'm so cold.”

“Okay, don't worry, get under this blanket-”

“N-no, need you. P-please, Chrissy, need you to hold-”

“I promise, I've got you. I'm not moving.”

She suddenly heard the front door open and her mother's footsteps come loudly up the staircase; she could tell Laura was angry from her stride.

“Fuck!” Chrissy did the only thing she could think and dashed to her door, locking it. She raced back to her bed and wrapped Eddie tighter, running her fingers through his hair, along his shoulders, anywhere she could reach him.

Her doorknob jiggled. “Christine, open the door! Your school called again, saying you ran off and skipped your fourth period class. What in god's name is going on with you?”

“Nothing, I told you I haven't been feeling well. I took a long lunch with a friend, alright? Can you please back off and let me be?”

Her mother's silence on the other side of the door told her she had crossed a line, but right then she didn't care. Eddie's shaking had subsided a little, but he still looked close to fading.

“You and I are going to have a conversation in the morning,” Laura huffed before storming off.

Chrissy sighed with relief, burying her face in Eddie's neck.

“Th-that was pretty punk rock of you.”

She laughed raucously. “Yeah, only took eighteen years to grow a spine.”

“Better late than never.”

She kissed him then, feeling more alive than she had in years. Relief flooded through her as his body finally solidified under her touch; he even managed to wrap her in his arms and shift her so she was on top of him.

“Eddie, god, you scared me so bad. Please don't do that again.”

“Yeah, not planning on it. I got so lost, Chris. After I left, I tried going home to see my family, but I kept getting turned around and going in circles. After a while, everything around me kind of faded away, and I was in this weird fucking grey void. Eventually I started to fade, like I could see my hands getting paler and glitching out. It's a miracle I even made it back here, honestly.”

“How did you find your way?”

“I thought about you. At first it was just remembering how I felt being around you, then it was almost like I could sense you. Were you at my uncle's?”

“I was, I went with Nancy Wheeler. We were trying to figure out what had happened to you.”

“Even though you might never see me again?”

“Yeah, well...I still wanted to know. If something bad happened to you, I wanted to bring you justice. I thought maybe you'd be able to feel me trying, even if you were gone.”

“That's so fucking romantic.”

Chrissy blushed, toying with his curls. “I was just trying to be a good person for once. Not just get through life but actually try to do something good with it.”

“Glad I could be your guiding light.”

“Shut up,” she said, kissing him again.

–

The next morning found them nestled together under the duvet, sunlight flickering weakly through the trees. Chrissy moved slowly away, not wanting to disturb Eddie's rest. She made to move towards the bathroom when he spoke up.

“Chrissy,” he said softly. “I think I know what happened. I think I can remember now.”

She sat next to him again and took his hand in hers. “Go ahead, Eddie, I'm here.”

He sighed. “So Saturday, right? Wayne and I had gotten into it that afternoon. I guess some prissy cheerleader failed her SATs because she got a little too high and couldn't remember how to multiply. So the girl's mom just confronts Wayne at the Stop 'n Shop, tells him that we should both get out of town before we corrupt any more innocent, god-fearing youths. As if I forced her to smoke weed or something.”

“That's fucked up, Eddie, I'm sorry. Some of the cheer moms can be a little intense.”

“Yeah, no shit. So Wayne comes at me and says I have to grow up at some point, and I say something about how we wouldn't have food half the time if I didn't bring in money. He never hit me before, but I could see the thought cross his mind. I just had to get out of there and cool off, but the cops don't like me wandering around town for some reason. Loitering, they call it. So I walk through the woods for a few hours, feeling sorry for myself, and eventually it gets to be pretty late. I'm debating whether to crawl home and apologize or just dig myself a nice hole to sleep in when I stumble across a bonfire held by some basketball douches. I guess they'd just lost one of their little games and were feeling kind of sore, because they started fucking with me.”

“Do you remember who they were?”

“Ah hell, Chris, I couldn't tell those guys apart even when I was alive.”

Chrissy ran to her bookshelf and sat the yearbook down next to him.

“Here,” she said, flipping through the pages until she found what she was looking for. “Pretty much all the same guys are on the team this year as last year.”

“Okay, this guy was one of them. And I think this guy too.” He'd pointed to Devon and Bryce in the yearbook.

“Figures. Anyone else?”

He scanned the pages intently before settling on one more picture. “This was the guy that started the whole thing.”

A boy with fair hair and a winning smile stared up from the page in glossy black and white. Next to his picture was the name Jason Carver.

“Eddie, are you sure you're remembering right? Jason's always been nice to me.”

“Yeah, that's cause he wants...well, trust me, it was these three assholes.”

“So what happened exactly?”

“Well, they were making a racket out there, and I approached to see what was going on and maybe ask them to pipe down. That's when I see they've gone through an eighteen-pack between the three of them. Carver starts getting in my face, calling me scum and saying I ruined a good girl's future, and how it won't be the last time I fuck someone over, and how I should drown myself in the lake. You know, just guy talk. The other two start circling me, trying to intimidate me, and I put my hands up, you know, to try and show I mean no harm and want to get out of there. In their drunken, riled-up state of mind, they take that to mean I want to fight. Then they start shoving me and getting really physical. Now, as I've stated, the cops in this town don't exactly love me, so I don't want to mess up some pretty boy's face and have him charge me with assault. At this point, I'm on the ground, just taking all their fucking hits, when one of them gets me in the back of the head with a beer bottle.”

“What the fuck?”

“My thoughts exactly. At that point, logic finally kicks in and they turn tail and run before I wind up dead.”

“And did you? Is that what killed you?”

“Surprisingly, no. I was still conscious, although I was in so much pain I wished I wasn't. I try to get up so I can get the fuck out of there, and then...god, you're not going to believe me when I tell you this.”

“I think we're kind of past that.”

“Alright so I see Wayne in front of me, but it's not really Wayne. It's more of a...”

“Vision?”

“Yeah. He's saying all this stuff about how I'd be better off dead, how he wishes I had never darkened his doorstep and what a piece of shit I'll wind up being. Then my dad shows up and says he's glad he overdosed, because at least he doesn't have to see me fucking up my own life. And all the while, this fucking grandfather clock keeps going off in my head, louder than anything I've ever heard. Then this weird fucking naked dude shows up and says how it's time for my suffering to end, which was a lie, because he reaches his hand up and grabs my face, and then I can feel all my bones breaking. Next thing I know, I wind up here two days later.”

“At 11:47 PM. The time you died.”

“Shit, if you say so.”

Chrissy was silent for a long moment before responding.

“Wait, naked?”

“Yeah, like, he had this weird red snakey skin and this really deep voice. I didn't really have time to process it, honestly.”

“Yeah, that's a lot to take in. But Eddie...”

“What?”

“It's Taylor. I think she's in danger. When we were there yesterday, she told me she was having those visions, and the headaches and the nosebleeds-”

“Fuck, we have to do something. Please, Chrissy, we need to save her. I can't let that happen to my sister.”

“I know, I...fuck, I forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“I need to give her my Walkman. She said listening to music was the only thing that made her feel better. Help me find it, I know I have a spare somewhere!”

“Okay, uhh...here, I got it!” He had found it at the bottom of one of her junk drawers.

Chrissy threw on her cheerleading skirt and grabbed the device from him. “Okay, I have to go. I'll let you know how she is!”

“Are you going to school afterwards?”

“I don't know, fuck, maybe! Who can think about school when there's ghosts and demons and alternate dimensions?”

“Alternate dimensions?”

“Yeah, it's a long story, I'll tell you later.”

“Wait, am I the ghost or demon?”

“What do you think, dummy?” She quickly kissed him before dashing out the bedroom door. It was still early enough that her mother hadn't awoken, and she sped to her car, hoping she wasn't too late.

–

Wayne Munson was awoken by a frantic knock at 7:18 AM, approximately ten hours before his night shift, which made this time the middle of the night for him. He rubbed his eyes and threw on a pair of pants, hoping to god whoever was at the door was worth it. When he opened it, he saw one of the girls who'd been by yesterday, disheveled and out of breath, brandishing something yellow.

“Wayne, sorry, didn't mean to wake you. Is Taylor okay, I mean awake?”

“Uh, come in and see for yourself.” He moved to let her in, somewhat bemused at her sudden investment into their lives.

“Thank you!” she panted, making her way to Taylor's bedroom and knocking. The girl let her in, looking startled at the intrusion.

“Got it, I've got it!” she said triumphantly, handing the Walkman to Taylor.

“Oh, wow, thanks Chrissy. I didn't think you'd remember, honestly.”

“No way, I want to make sure you're doing okay. Are you, I mean? Did you sleep alright?”

The girl shrugged, sitting down on her bed and sliding the tape into her new Walkman. “Okay, I guess. Better than I have been, now that I know...I mean, I know it's stupid, but most of the people in this town hated Eddie. It's nice to know that at least a few people want to do right by him and his friends. The freaks, they call them. Well, they call me that too. I've been thinking about quitting cheer. I mean, I already was before all this anyways.”

“Taylor, come on, you've been doing great. You've improved so much since you started out.”

“Yeah, but I don't know. Some of the girls say some pretty mean things behind my back. I act like I don't notice, but it kind of gets to me.”

“Listen, the next time anyone so much as looks at you funny, they're going to have to answer to me.”

Taylor smiled widely. “What's with you, Chrissy? It's like you changed overnight. I mean, you've always been nice, but...”

“But not in a way that would involve sticking my neck out, right? I don't know, I guess I've been recently inspired to change my ways a little.”

“You kind of remind me of him now. He used to have my back on everything, and ever since he's been gone, it's like I'm alone in the world.”

“What about Wayne?”

“I mean, I love him, but he sort of keeps to himself, you know? Eddie was my rock. I know some brothers hate their sisters, but he was always good to me.”

“He'll always be with you. And I will too. I promise, you can come to me for anything. You think you're going to come back to school soon?”

“Maybe next week? I think I just need another couple of days to get my head straight.”

“Of course. I'll see you then, okay?”

The two girls wrapped each other in a hug and Chrissy made her way out, waving to Wayne as he watched her curiously.

–

Chrissy got to her first class just in time, although she looked a little more wild than normal, with her hair loose and no pristine makeup applied. She could hear one of the other cheerleaders snickering behind her but ignored it. After a few minutes of relative peace, the intercom clicked to life and called her to the principal's office. The laughter of the others increased, and her face burned hot as she gathered her belongings.

When she arrived at the office, she was confronted with the sight of her mother, perfectly coiffed as usual, wearing a look of grave concern.

“Chrissy, dear, I just wanted to stop by and make sure you had found your way to school. After all, you seem to be having such a hard time with it lately.

“I was in class until you called me in here for no reason,” she sniped back.

“Christine, that's no way to talk to your mother,” the principal, who was positioned at his mahogany desk behind Laura, piped up. “We all just want what's best for you, and that involves staying in school until the day is over, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she said through clenched teeth, deeply resenting the condescension he was oozing.

“Would you mind if I have a quick chat with her outside? I'll have her back to class in a jiffy.”

“Of course, Laura. You ladies take care now.”

Chrissy kept the same tight smile on her face until they were fully in the hallway. “What's up, Laura? You want me to stay in class and then you pull me out to tell me to stay where I already am?”

“What has gotten into you, Christine? What are you trying to prove with this little late bloomer teenage rebellion? Don't think I won't pull you out of cheer the minute-”

“I don't care about cheer, I never have! I only did it so you'd leave me alone and get your own life. God, ever since dad died, all you've done is try to act like everything is fine and normal, like you're afraid of anyone feeling anything besides happiness. It's fake, mom! You know, we're allowed to be sad and hurt and angry, and we're supposed to care about stuff besides dresses and tablecloths and goddamn banquet dinners-”

Laura slapped her hard, hard enough for the sound to echo around the empty hallway.

“Watch your mouth, you little bitch. Don't think you hold any power here just because you feel grown up all of a sudden.”

Chrissy shook her head at Laura. “He'd be so disappointed in what you've become. Dad was a real person with goals and fears and dreams. He didn't surround himself with bullshit to make himself feel superior. I'm going back to class now, which is clearly all you care about anyways.”

She walked away from Laura with her back straight, willing herself to keep from crying in front of her mother. Chrissy had the secret satisfaction of knowing she'd gotten a full-ride academic scholarship to an out of state school, and would likely see very little of her mother after graduation. She had been undecided in her major up to now, but the journalism field suddenly seemed very appealing.

–

After lunch, Chrissy made her way to where she'd first spoken to Nancy yesterday, and one of her fellow student journalists told her to meet Nancy at the wooden table in the woods behind the gym. She knew that was where a lot of kids met to buy or sell drugs, but she shrugged and figured Nancy knew best. As she navigated around the tables, she saw Jason approach her with a wide smile.

“Chrissy, hey, what's up? Do you have a minute? I kind of need to talk to you.”

“I'm sorry, Jason, I'm meeting someone.”

“Who, the cops? Or old man Munson again?”

She stopped short and looked him full in the face. His grin had turned wolfish and something sinister shone in his eyes.

“Why does that concern you exactly?”

“Oh, you know, just making sure my girl isn't getting in over her head on something she has no business with.”

“I'm not your girl, and it is my business.”

Jason quickly moved toward her and grabbed her upper arm. “Listen, bitch, I don't know who you think you are-”

She twisted out of his grasp and hurried away, looking over her shoulder to ensure she wasn't being followed. If she wasn't sure before, she definitely was now. Eddie was telling the truth, and Jason was going to do everything he could to stop her from taking him down. But how could she even do so? She had no proof except the word of someone who no one else could see or hear; no one else had been at the bonfire from what Eddie had said. She hoped Nancy would have some idea on how to proceed.

Chrissy breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the splintered table where Nancy, Mike, Dustin and a few others sat.

“Hey, sorry to make you come out here,” Nancy said. “I figured it would be best to talk about this stuff without a bunch of people listening.”

“Isn't this where Eddie used to do his deals?” Dustin asked.

“Sometimes he would bring people to his trailer when his uncle was out,” piped up a pony-tailed redhead Chrissy didn't know.

“Chrissy, this is Max, and that's Lucas.”

“Hey,” she said, lifting her arm to wave but wincing at the pain.

“You okay?” Nancy asked with concern.

“Yeah, I...Jason came up to me in the lunch room and said something about Eddie not being my business, and then he grabbed my arm pretty hard. I think he left a bruise.”

“Jesus, why would he say something like that?”

Chrissy filled the group in on what Eddie had said, although she first had to explain a few times that yes, Eddie was a ghost who was staying in her room and no, he didn't have ectoplasm or chains and lockboxes like the ghosts in A Christmas Carol.

Nancy looked almost pleased when Chrissy was finished. “Ok, wow, that actually makes a lot of sense with the theory that we had. So the way this thing works-”

“Vecna. I think we should call it Vecna, like from D&D,” Dustin said confidently.

“Alright, Vecna. The way Vecna works is he targets someone vulnerable, someone who's going through some inner turmoil. For Drew it was probably being homeless, for Eddie it was the fight he'd had with his uncle and getting beaten up by Jason and his goons, and for Taylor...”

Chrissy nodded. “It's Eddie's death. Not to mention the shit she has to deal with on a daily basis for being kind of-”

“Poor?” Max asked pointedly.

“I was going to say disenfranchised. Or disillusioned.”

“Sound like big words for being a poor kid in a hick town.”

“Anyways,” Nancy said, getting back to her spiel. “He targets a person going through a hard time, and he plagues them with headaches, nosebleeds, nightmares, and eventually visions. Visions of parents, brothers, friends validating their worst fears. And Eddie said something about a grandfather clock?”

“That seems like the final step. Taylor didn't mention seeing one in her mirror vision, so I assume once you see that, it's the last one until...”

“Until your limbs all get broken and twisted and your eyes get gouged out,” Lucas said grimly.

“Yeah.”

“So how do we stop it happening to Taylor or anyone else?” Mike asked.

“And how do we get those pieces of shit to confess to what they did?” Dustin said.

“Taylor's running out of time,” Chrissy intoned. “First we deal with Vecna, then we can figure out how to take down Jason and the others.”

“They could be halfway to some private island by then! Now they know you and Nancy are onto them, who knows what they're capable of?”

“I know, trust me. But even if we had proof, which we don't, they're going to say they beat him up, not killed him.”

“They threw a beer bottle at his head! He could have been dead for all they knew.”

“Yeah, but is anyone going to think them capable of tearing his eyes out of his sockets?”

Nancy placed her hands flat on the table and everyone came to a standstill; it reminded Chrissy of a judge banging a gavel.

“Okay, one thing at a time, guys. I agree that stopping Vecna is technically the more pressing concern right now. Although trying to find proof of what they did couldn't hurt. I wish we could get access to the police report to see if they've dug up anything.”

“I doubt it. Max and I can go to where it happened to see if we can find proof. Maybe we'll get lucky and we'll find a piece of the bottle they can get prints from,” Lucas offered.

“That would be awesome. In the meantime we need to wrap our heads around this Vecna thing.”

As important as the current discussion was, Chrissy found herself gazing down at the worn table where Eddie had made so many of his drug deals, likely including the one that would inadvertently end his life. Along the edge, she saw “Class of '86” carved in sharp relief with what looked like a pen knife. She traced the jagged letters with her fingers, wondering what the vibrant Eddie of only a few weeks ago would think of the conversation they were having.

“Chrissy, still with us?” Nancy asked sharply.

“Yeah,” she said, blinking back tears. “I'm here.”

–

“You really think this is going to work?” Chrissy asked Nancy as they hurried their way back to class. Although she had told her mother off, she still wanted to avoid a write up for being late and possibly get saddled with detention. “I mean, you know this...Eleven girl better than me, so I'll take your word for it.”

“She goes by El. And yeah, honestly, she's our best hope. She's done this kind of thing before, a couple times.”

“And if we can't pull this off? Do we have a plan B?”

Nancy was silent for a long moment, which she took to mean the strange girl with superpowers was not just their best hope but their only hope.

“It'll work,” Nancy said with finality. Although she wasn't quite ready to say it out loud, Chrissy fiercely admired how the other girl seemed to go through life with a certain sense of quiet bravado. She had heard once that acting confident was half the battle to being confident, and Nancy was living proof. She hoped she could feign some of that confidence for her own all-important task.

“So now I just have to convince Taylor to go for it. That's going to be tricky, considering we basically just started being friends.”

They had reached the door of the room where Chrissy's next class was, and Nancy turned to look her full in the face. Chrissy gasped a little when the other girl took her hands in hers.

“Chrissy, you can do this. I understand it's hard to put yourself out there for other people, but we need you...Taylor needs you to show her some of that fire and passion that I know you have.”

Chrissy bit her cheek to keep from smiling too widely; Nancy's eyes shone luminously into hers, and it made her feel like she really could do anything. She nodded, determined as she'd ever been. The moment was broken by one of the jocks shoving into her shoulder as he made his way into the room.

“Ugh,” Chrissy muttered. “What's wrong with everyone at this school?”

“Easy, tiger. Let me know how it goes, okay?”

“I'll head there straight after school, I promise.”

Nancy pulled her into a hug just as the bell rang, then pushed her into the room so she wasn't counted late. Chrissy made her way to her normal desk, feeling a little lightheaded from the sudden contact. Almost immediately, she felt herself getting pelted by small bits of paper from the desks behind her. She pulled one wad out of her hair, unfolding it to see the word dyke scribbled in capital letters. She clenched her fist and felt herself turn red but didn't give them the satisfaction of looking their way.

Devon slid his desk closer to hers, and she could almost smell his breath. Her brows furrowed; had he been drinking?

“Hey! Is that why you won't go out with Carver? You'd rather get with that uptight little-”

“Mr. Murphy! Can we concentrate, please?”

Chrissy breathed a sigh of relief as the teacher did his job for once. She spent the rest of class mentally preparing for what she was going to say to Taylor after school.

–

“Okay, so...let me get this straight. My headaches are being caused by something out of a...parallel dimension? And it wants to kill me for some reason, just like it killed Eddie. And your plan is to...”

“Lure him into your mind in a safe and controlled environment. Then, when he's about to strike, Eleven, the girl who's basically got superpowers, is going to tap into your consciousness and kill him, or whatever the equivalent of killing him would be.”

“Uh-huh. Wouldn't that kill me?”

“No! No, she's done this before, she's very precise. Trust me, this is our best bet to deal with this.”

Taylor smiled slyly at Chrissy; for a long moment, the soft guitar of California Dreamin coming from the Walkman was the only sound between them.

“You know, I really wish you and my brother had been friends. You guys could have been creative writing buddies, swapping stories or whatever. He was always into that kind of stuff.”

“Taylor...” Chrissy gestured helplessly at the girl, who'd begun to doodle on the cuffs of her jeans. “I promise it's not just a story. Nancy told me all about what she and her brother and their friends have been through. Hawkins is not just some sleepy little town, it's...crazy stuff happens here.”

“Nancy Wheeler? I remember her from my civics class. She was always getting into debates with Mr. Henley on why trickle-down economies are bullshit. Can't exactly say I disagree.”

“Yeah, fuck Reagan.”

Taylor laughed, a high and lilting sound that reminded her of Eddie. Chrissy felt her heart lurch.

“So what do I have to do to summon this guy? Chant Ancev three times and spin in a circle?”

“Ancev?”

“Yeah, like Vecna backwards?”

“Ah, no. I was thinking of replicating the conditions that led to your initial vision.”

“You mean when I was feeling broken and lonely and like I had no hope left in the world?”

“...Yes? But I promise, me and Nancy will be there, and if it gets to be too much we'll put your headphones on and bring you back up. I don't want this thing to get you, Taylor. After what happened to Eddie-”

“I wish it was me.”

“What?”

“If what you're saying is true, and my brother had to die for you guys to figure this out, then I wish I had died first. He spent his whole life trying to protect me and lift me up, to make me feel like I was better than I was. He didn't deserve to die like that, all alone and in pain.”

Chrissy bit her lip, debating whether to tell Taylor her brother was still here in some form. She figured that she had given the girl enough to chew on for now. Instead, she took her hand between hers.

“Neither do you, Taylor. And I bet if he was here, he'd do everything in his power to make sure you were safe.”

Taylor nodded, willing herself not to cry in front of someone who she'd barely known a few days ago. When Chrissy pulled her into a hug, though, she found she couldn't hold it back anymore. She felt like Eddie must still be watching out for her somewhere, that somehow his joyous and kind nature had brought out the best in the people around her. Chrissy rubbed the girl's back and muttered soothing words, hoping like hell they could pull this thing off.

–

Friday morning dawned cold and clear, and Chrissy opened her eyes to see a thin layer of frost around the edges of her bedroom window. Eddie's arms were wrapped languidly around her torso, and apart from the chill emanating off of him, he seemed like any other teenager who'd managed to sneak into a girl's bedroom and make himself comfortable. She traced her finger along his stubbled jawline, humming to herself. When she told him their plans to rid Taylor of Vecna's influence, Eddie had insisted that they hold the ritual in Chrissy's bedroom where he could keep an eye on the proceedings. She figured it wasn't the worst idea, especially considering Laura would be out for the night at a gala to help disadvantaged people in some far-off country. She supposed there were worse ways her mother could be spending her time, and almost but not quite regretted being so harsh with her yesterday.

She remembered one of her many therapists saying something about establishing healthy boundaries and maternal enmeshment but she hadn't thought much of it at the time. Now that she had had time to process her loss and move past it, she knew the best thing for both of them was to get some distance and work on her own sense of self. Better late than never, Eddie had said, not realizing how much of an impact he had made on her in such a short time. She regretfully wriggled out of his grasp and started getting ready, not really minding if his eyes roved over her form as she changed into her school clothes.

“Mm. Where'd you go?”

“Sorry, I need to get moving. Want to avoid the mom machine before she wakes up if I can.”

“I don't think I have much time left.”

She stopped to turn and look at him, feeling like she'd just gulped an ice cold glass of water. He looked as solid and real as she'd ever seen him since he showed up unexpectedly in her bedroom, but there was a new sadness behind his eyes.

“What do you mean...how do you know?”

“I don't know. I just have this feeling, like something's calling me away. It's a voice in the back of my head, and the more I pay attention, the louder it gets.”

“Like Vecna?”

He shook his head fervently. “No, it's not bad or scary. It's like I've been playing out in the yard too long, and something's telling me it's time to come home. Like my mom used to do before she passed. Do you think...do you think I'll see her there, Chrissy?”

She moved swiftly towards him and pulled him into a deep embrace. Any hope she'd had of holding her composure were dashed as she sobbed violently into his neck.

“Hey, hey, come on. It's okay, really. I've gotten more than my fair share of time here.”

Chrissy shook her head, sending tears flying in all directions. “That's not true, Eddie. You didn't deserve this, none of it. I wish life had treated you better. I wish I had known you when I had the chance, so I could tell you every day how fucking amazing and talented and beautiful you are.”

Eddie said nothing but slid his hands up to caress her cheeks and wipe the beads of moisture away. After a long moment, Chrissy began to catch her breath, although she still couldn't seem to speak without choking up.

“I-I want you to know, Eddie...that you were loved, so deeply.” She sighed and swallowed and pressed on. “Your uncle, your sister, your friends, me-”

“You love me?”

She nodded with reckless abandon and showered his pale face with kisses, making him laugh and embrace her in a tight hug.

“I love you too. If I had a choice between an eternity of bliss and peace and staying in this room with you forever talking about stars and Tolkien, it would be a pretty fucking hard decision.”

“Can you stay until tonight at least? Taylor's going to need her big brother one more time.”

He nodded, biting his lip to keep from breaking down. “I'll be here. If it wasn't already a moot point, I'd die for that kid.”

“That's funny, she said she'd do the same for you.”

–

At 8:30 that night, Taylor shuffled nervously into Chrissy's room, followed by Nancy and Mike.

“Hey, I made some space on the floor for you to sit if it would help you feel grounded. Or you can sit on the bed, or in the beanbag...whichever you like.”

She moved her curtain of hair and smiled gratefully at Chrissy. The floor works, thanks.”

Mike gravitated to Chrissy's bedroom phone and began to dial out to California.

“Thanks for letting me use it, Chrissy. You, uh, might get a long-distance fee, but don't worry, I'll pay you back. My mom's been making me pay it out of my allowance ever since El moved.”

Yeah...no worries.” She was barely listening as her attention had gravitated to Eddie, who was sitting cross-legged at the head of the bed, unbeknownst to everyone but her. His eyes were fixed on Taylor, roving over her pale face with concern.

“God, Chris, she looks so tired. So tired and so sad.”

They had come to an agreement earlier not to interact directly when other people were around; instead, Chrissy lay her hand on the edge of the bed in what she hoped was a casual manner. He reached out gratefully, hungry for a comforting touch, and laced his fingers in hers.

“So should we, uh, get started here?” Taylor asked uneasily. The girl had chosen to sit cross-legged like Eddie, and the resemblance of the siblings almost made Chrissy lose her composure.

“I think so. Mike?”

“Yeah, we're good to go. She's ready, just say the word.”

“Okay. Taylor, you know what to do,” Nancy said firmly. “After this, we'll be out of the woods, and we can go do anything you want. See a movie, get ice cream...”

“I want to see my brother.”

Nancy gave Chrissy a warning look, then turned back to Taylor.

“Can you go into that a little more?”

“It's like I told Chrissy the other day. He was my favorite person in the world, the one who got me through everything. All the shit with our parents, moving in with my uncle and scrounging to get by. I mean, I love Wayne but he didn't ask for two half-grown kids to show up in his life out of nowhere. There are times, I can tell, when he would rather not deal with the two of us. Eddie made me feel like I was worth something, even though we got dealt such a shit hand. Even when I went to school with second-hand clothes and a free lunch coupon, he made it seem like there was more to me than just being another fucking poor kid. Now that he's gone...I honestly don't know if I want to keep going.”

Eddie started to sob, clutching his fist against his mouth. The pain in his eyes made Chrissy want to scream, to call the whole thing off and draw the girl into a deep hug. The fact that Eddie couldn't even call out to her seemed torturous. Taylor began to weep, tears streaking down her face as she gasped for breath. “I don't k-know if I believe in the afterlife, but if there's even a chance I can be with him, and with mom...God, why does life have to be like this? Why do we have to love people if they're just going to leave us in the end?”

Chrissy looked at Nancy, silently asking her for reassurance that this was the right thing. The girl gazed back at her, looking close to tears herself. Taylor gasped suddenly and jumped back, nearly bumping into Chrissy's legs. “It's here, it's...I can see it.”

“What do you see, Taylor?”

“It's a man, kind of. Or it...used to be? He's walking towards me.”

“Do you hear a grandfather clock?”

She nodded desperately. “Yes, and there are spiders crawling everywhere. He's almost here, oh god!”

Eddie groaned and grabbed fistfuls of his hair. “Chrissy, please!”

Nancy nodded firmly at Mike. “It's time, El! See if you can tap into her mind!”

“If?!” Eddie asked incredulously. “Shouldn't we have done a practice run or something?”

Taylor stopped crying then, stopped making any noise at all. Chrissy's blood ran cold as the girl's eyes flickered and went white, and she started to rise from the ground.

“Chrissy, grab her ankles!”

She dove and caught Taylor just in time, pulling her back down with as much force as she could.

“El? We're running out of time, can you find her?”

Nancy grabbed Taylor's other ankle and together they pulled until she was almost fully on the ground; then, suddenly, an unseen force pushed them both back and away from her.

Chrissy crumpled to the ground in shock and pain; she shook her head to see Taylor rising, rising even faster than before.

Oh god this is all my fault. I knew I'd be a fuckup

“She found her! She's in, you guys!”

“How fast can she beat this thing? We can't hold her down, Vecna pushed us away!”

“Chrissy, this isn't working, we have to do something!” Eddie yelled, launching himself out of the bed and looking up at his sister who had almost reached the ceiling.

“The Walkman was our failsafe, but we didn't know she was going to float!”

Eddie jumped to turn the radio on, praying that whatever was playing would snap Taylor out of it. Mike jumped back, startled, as it started playing Madonna.

“What the hell?” He reached to turn it off, but Chrissy shouted him down immediately. “Don't, Mike, it's her only chance!”

“What, Like a Prayer?”

“No, it needs to be a particular song.”

“Wait, this might work,” Eddie said as a new song faded in. He joined in with his own voice, clear and strong and full of feeling.

Highway run into the midnight sun

Wheels go 'round and 'round, you're on my mind

Restless hearts, sleep alone tonight

Sending all my love along the wire

Acting on instinct, Chrissy joined in, earning an appreciative look from Eddie.

Loving a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be

Oh, girl, you stand by me

I'm forever yours

Faithfully

The group looked up at Taylor, who still floated along the edge of the ceiling, although thankfully none of her limbs had been broken yet.

“El?” Mike said quietly into the receiver, not wanting to break the moment. “What's the status, you doing okay in there?”

Nancy, who had also joined in the song, looked at Chrissy proudly in a way that made her heart want to burst out of her chest. If they could just hold on for a little longer...

“Oh, fuck yeah! She got him guys, sent his ass flying!” Mike cheered.

That means...

Chrissy jumped into action just in time to catch Taylor as she fell suddenly, like a skydiver with no parachute. She thanked her lucky stars that she'd spent so much time on cheerleading stunts and knew how to catch someone midair. She stood the girl up and brushed her hair out of her tear-soaked face, eternally grateful that Taylor's brown eyes shone back at her.

“Hey, we did it! We got the bastard, he's gone!”

“I heard him.”

“Who, Vecna?”

“No, Eddie. I heard him singing that Journey song, is he here?”

Chrissy was taken aback and looked to Nancy for guidance.

“Chrissy.” Taylor spoke with more force than she'd ever heard from the girl. “Is my brother here, right now?”

She nodded, gulping down a lump in her throat. “Yes, he's here, I'm sorry-”

Taylor gasped and turned to look at Eddie, whose form had taken on an unearthly warm glow.

“Hey, kid.”

She sobbed his name and flew to him, holding him like she never wanted to let go.

“Fuck, Eddie, where have you been?”

“Oh, you know, here and there. Mostly here.”

She laughed and looked him up and down. “How-”

“I don't know, but it doesn't really matter. I don't have much time. I just wanted to say how fucking proud you make me, Taylor. You're worth so much more than you think, and if you ever start feeling like you want to throw it all away, consider the fact that I defied the very concept of mortality just to be here for you, at this very moment. That's how much I love you, you know.”

“Yeah well, you don't really need an excuse to laugh in god's face now, do you?”

“You know me too well.”

She held him tightly to her, biting her lip. “What am I gonna do without you?”

“Hey, someone's got to keep an eye on the old man. Not to mention these freaks.” He threw a wink at Chrissy.

Taylor beckoned Chrissy closer, eyes shining. “Thank you, Chrissy. You saved me, and you gave me the chance to say goodbye to my brother. Any time I think that it's not worth sticking around and that no one cares, I'll remember what you did for me today.”

She shook her head and placed a hand on Taylor's shoulder. “You saved yourself. You were so damn brave in there. Eddie's right when he says you're amazing.”

“Chrissy?” Eddie said, his voice thick. She turned to see him, almost completely enveloped in a golden light. His body, once so full of life and energy, was barely visible beneath the glow.

“No,” she said, taking his hand one last time. “Please...”

“Hey,” he said, looking into her eyes and smiling kindly. “You're not one of those pale little stars, you know. You're a whole fucking galaxy, Cunningham.”

She reached out to kiss him, and he wrapped her arms around her midsection; as he did so, the light overtook him and bathed the room momentarily. When Chrissy opened her eyes, the boy who had stood there was gone.

–

“Chrissy Cunningham, please report to the principal's office.”

The school intercom clicked to life and broke Chrissy from her daze; it was Monday afternoon, and she's barely slept over the weekend, her thoughts consumed with their victory over Vecna and the final loss of Eddie. She slid out of her seat and made her way to the office, her shoulders hunched; what now? She was startled to see a local patrolman sitting in the office, complete with a dark brown hat and loaded gun holster.

“Chrissy, this gentleman would like to have a word with you.”

“O-okay.”

“Thank you, sir, I can take it from here. Would you mind giving us a minute alone?”

The principal looked nonplussed but pasted a smile on his face. “Of course, I'll just be right outside the door.”

He closed the door to the office behind him but Chrissy could still see him peering through the small glass panel curiously.

“What's this about, sir?”

“Call me Clark, Chrissy. I wanted to ask you about a Jason Carver who attends this school. You're both seniors right? You have any classes together?”

“Not really, but we are- or we were friends, kind of.”

“Uh-huh. Any reason for the past tense on that?”

Chrissy had been afraid this would happen; Jason had probably spun the situation to his favor and sicced a local cop on her to scare her. She wondered if it was even worth telling the truth, but as the man's eyes bore into hers, she found she couldn't think of anything else to say.

“Well, the other day in the lunch room, he grabbed my arm hard enough to leave bruises and told me to mind my business.”

The man's eyes flicked to her upper arms, which she had tried and failed to cover with concealer.

“And what business was he referring to?”

Chrissy sighed, feeling like she was out of options. “Nancy Wheeler and I got to talking, and we thought something might have been weird about Eddie's death. Eddie Munson, you know. We went to talk to his uncle and his sister. That's all, I promise. We weren't trying to impede the investigation, or accuse anyone of anything-”

“Woah now, it's alright. So Jason got in your face about you and the Wheeler girl going to see Eddie's family, even though you didn't mention it to him, and you didn't even know how he know it.”

Chrissy nodded. “I guess so.”

“And he mention a...Devon Murphy or a Bryce Hartley to you?”

Chrissy furrowed her eyebrows curiously. “No...no he didn't.”

How does he know?

“Can I ask what this is about, sir? I didn't mean to cause any trouble or anything.” Liar.

The man sucked his teeth and looked Chrissy up and down. “Can I trust you to keep this to yourself, Chrissy?”

She nodded. “Yes, absolutely.”

“Jason Carver came to us over the weekend and accused Bryce and Devon of killing Eddie Munson in the woods on Saturday night. He said he was there, and tried to stop them, but they were too drunk and wouldn't listen. Which is funny, because a few hours later, they came to the station and accused him of the same thing.”

“So they turned on each other? What does that mean, what happens now?”

“Well, you and I both know that Carver's family is old money and they'll lawyer him up just as soon as they can. But something about that kid rubs me the wrong way, if I can be frank. I'm willing to bet that all three of those boys were involved in some capacity. What happens next is up to a jury of their peers.”

“I wish I could be on the jury.”

The man chuckled. “Something tells me you'd be a little biased. You mind heading to the police station after school and giving a statement on what Carver said to you? We may need to take some pictures of those bruises as well.”

“For sure. Thank you, sir.”

“You bet, missy. And remember, keep this to yourself for the time being.”

–

After attending the police station, Chrissy made her way to Eddie's trailer. She knocked but received no reply; suddenly worried, she began to hammer rapidly until Taylor appeared.

“Hey, sorry to bug you, you scared me!”

“Don't worry!” Taylor said, laughing. “Come in.”

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Wayne said, looking like he'd slept well for the first time in some time.

“You want a drink, Chris?”

“Oh yeah, water or whatever you have is fine.”

As Taylor bounced her way to the kitchen, Wayne turned to Chrissy.

“You know, I don't know what you kids have been doing with her this week, but she's bounced back like a spring rose. I just wanted to say I'm mighty grateful to you.”

“It's no problem, Wayne. Taylor's a good kid, you know. She reminds me of...of Eddie.”

“Did you know him well?”

“Not as much as I wish I had. But I don't know, it's like he still made an impact after he was gone, somehow.”

“That's my nephew, alright. No one could ever accuse the boy of not being memorable.”

Taylor handed Chrissy a glass of water and took a seat in the plush living room chair. “Wayne's teaching me James Taylor, you know.”

“Oh my god, really?”

“Mm-hm. He taught Eddie when he was, like, eleven, so I figured I was overdue.”

“Can you show me?”

“Chrissy, please, I've been playing for like a day.”

“I want to see!”

“Now girls, take it easy. Let the maestro demonstrate how it's done.” He pulled a guitar from behind the couch and sat down, resting it on his crossed thighs. He began to play, soft and sweet, as Taylor sang along in her high, clear voice.

Just yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone

Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you

I walked out this morning and I wrote down this song

I just can't remember who to send it to

Chrissy hummed along, wishing that Eddie could see the impact he'd managed to leave behind in his young life. She knew that the people who had known him would eventually move on, better for having had him in their lives. She would keep growing and changing while he would remain in their hearts, the same brash, impulsive, creative, wonderful boy he'd always been. For now, she was happy to share in the love that remained.

I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend

But I always thought that I'd see you again

[moonsdancer]

—your brother's gone | mel, kino, ambessa & grief

For a character who doesn't even appear onscreen in the flesh, is only mentioned 2.5x in dialogue, and is, in fact, deceased in the current timeline on the show, Kino Medarda has a pretty profound impact that I had to write about it (some more, since I find excuses to write about him already).

our first mention of him

is in episode eight, mel's nightmare-memory prologue:

Kino says war is a failure of statecraft—young Mel who's no more than twelve years old.

That one line is enough to help us understand almost everything Mel's been doing since the show began, and what comes after only reinforces that. We also see how much she admires, maybe even idolizes her big brother, and takes his wisdom and lessons as truth. We can safely assume that at some point between that nightmare and the present, that Kino eventually did become more of an embodiment of everything expected of Medarda heirs—otherwise, he would've been banished along with his sister. Such is often the plight of eldest siblings.

how much hearing about his death impacts mel.

From the moment Ambessa looks at her with a crushed expression because she's dreading having to tell Mel this news - a first indication that all the brash insensitive talk hides a mother who does care for her daughter, even if it's not in the healthiest ways at times - we start to see shades of Mel we haven't really seen before, not like this. You can see the shock and dawning grief on Mel's face. In the second row image, you can see her face half crumpling as if to cry but she quickly marshals herself and hides behind her righteous fury at Ambessa angling for weapons a few seconds later.

Throughout Vi and Caitlyn's petition before the council Mel's really subdued. In a way that's really noticeable if you watch her closely, which I do. She still holds the tether on herself though and focuses on the task at hand but she’s not herself. She's short with Jayce who keeps pushing for violent retaliation on the undercity. The last thing she wants, she’s never wanted this, and now the one person who absolutely understood why is dead. Haunted but firm, she tells Jayce, You don't know war—I do.

SIDEBAR | A lot of people don’t seem to realise that the memory is just one incident. Mel would’ve been exposed to that kind of thing and much, much worse again and again over her childhood/teen years because it’s not like Ambessa was running around conquering once in a blue moon. War and conquest are a way of life for the Medardas. In episode 5, when Mel tells Jayce that she doesn’t want to be like other Medardas who just take, take and take from the world—it’s not just about wealth or knowledge, it’s about warfare, conquest and the terrible death, suffering and horror for those left behind. And there’s no way Mel wasn’t trained / expected to engage in the warfare and conquering herself before she was banished. So, when she says Jayce doesn’t know war—if his vomiting over the side of the bridge while Mel looks on at the carnage with a horrified but painful familiarity is any indication —she knows what she’s talking about.

Much has been said about Ambessa and how her attitude/demands spur Mel’s decisions in this final act. But I think so much of the underlying motivation for Mel’s actions in this act are Kino. It’s her mercy and compassion, and it’s Kino’s philosophy of being the fox rather than the wolf, of using diplomacy rather than war that drives her on. She doesn’t want to fail, and she doesn’t want to fail him.

In that last row at the council meeting, Mel seems about one nudge from shattering any time the frame focuses on her. She appears more vulnerable than we’ve ever seen, more brittle, more fragile, and deeply, deeply sad.

We have never seen her like this.

When she looks down at the Medarda ring almost like it’s a last albatross she needs to discard, it hits even harder once we find out that mere hours before she was destroying the painting—a representation of her yearning for home and for family, for a life to which she never really belonged, to a world that she feels has nothing left for her no matter how much she still loves her mother, especially with Kino gone.

[coolfire333]

OK ALSO I think that Adel deserved so so so SO much better in terms of his storyline in under the knife 2, ESPECIALLY when you look at Naomi’s progression from second opinion to trauma team. Well, maybe “deserved better” doesn’t quite describe my feelings because I don’t think they actively did him wrong, I actually like his character in under the knife 2, my main issue is that I think they didn’t explore it deeply enough...like the starting ideas and execution of his character arc is good, I just think it needs more

There is just so much potential there...I wish they’d done a similar storyline where you could play as Adel with the hands of asclepius in between playing as Derek with caduceus, I think that was a really successful part of Naomi’s storyline in second opinion because it gave a lot of insight into someone on the “opposite team” and it also created some really interesting tension because in liking Naomi and rooting for her, you entered into this weird grey area where you personally liked her but also disagreed with her villainous actions

And I feel like Adel’s story could have been so much more impactful if you got to play as him when he was working for the hands of asclepius. Looking again at Naomi, her reason for joining delphi is understandable but it’s still a pretty cruel decision on her part with how she’s willing to toss aside her morals so that she can keep working as a surgeon. But with Adel, he joins the hands of asclepius with good intentions, albeit ones also somewhat based on envy: he wants to be the best surgeon possible so that he can help his country, but he thinks that the healing touch is the only way to do this, and the hands of asclepius promises him that only they can help him achieve this

Naomi’s complexity comes from the fact that she doesn’t really have any strong morals at the start of second opinion. She very much knows that what she’s doing is wrong, and to a certain extent Navel will let her push back on certain boundaries when she feels that delphi is REALLY crossing a line (like when she convinces him to let her try to save the photographer who crashed his car trying to stalk them instead of just driving away to leave him to die), but at the end of the day she KNOWS she is not working on the side of good when she’s with delphi.

And it’s a decision that she comes to eventually regret, and she struggles with this aspect of her past a lot in trauma team (Little Guy also seemingly shares this conflict, although we don’t get to see much of his transition to “good” or his low points in struggling with his past actions like we do for Naomi...but talking about him is its own post entirely)

But Adel has always been interesting to me because I think his complexity comes from the fact that he DOES have very strong ideals, but his obsession for perfection and his jealousy warp his sense of morality to the point where he ends up no longer doing the right thing. He doesn’t seem to know how dubious the hands of asclepius is until he’s already in too deep, so deep that he either doesn’t realize what they’re doing isn’t right because he’s fully consumed by his emotions, or he ignores the bad things they’re doing to focus on honing his abilities as a kind of “net good” scenario, again very similarly to how Naomi acts

Derek immediately forgives Adel’s behavior after his surgery, saying it was just the neo-guilt affecting his mental state, but Adel corrects him in saying that although the neo-guilt did cause him to behave irrationally, he really was mad at Derek for his percieved slighting of him earlier, and he was geniunely envious of Derek’s abilities, and he now sees that his behaviors were unhealthy. 

Like, it would have been so easy to dismiss all of Adel’s standoffishness and later hostility as just being a result of his illness, but he flat-out admits that no, he was sick and that explains how extreme his behavior became, but he really did have these same feelings deep down.

There’s also the parallel between him slowly falling into evil and Naomi slowly exiting out of it that really could have benefitted from him having his own playable missions. We start off seeing Naomi in delphi, and although she is also working for the side of good during this time, it’s hard to get a sense of how she works as a hero here since she’s still heavily allied with evil. 

But we see so much of her regret and commitment to atonement in trauma team, and that’s really the best character arc in all of the games imo, and one of the reasons she’s my favorite character in the whole series (and one of my favorite fictional characters period), because she’s done an equal number of good and bad deeds and seeing her able to get her life back after she fully turns herself around is incredibly moving. 

So, we get to see basically her full transformation from evil to good, but other than a brief mention of her backstory in Japan, where she was presumably an honest doctor, we don’t get to hear much of her initial good deeds and we certainly don’t get to actually see how she initially gets involved with delphi and turns to evil in the first place. 

BUT we do see that more with Adel’s joining of the hands of asclepius, which is the perfect opportunity for having the reverse of Naomi’s story, where we get to see Adel having a shaky and troubled start as a doctor, much like Naomi, before slowly getting involved with evil, before he eventually is made aware of the harmfulness of his actions, at which point he realizes that he needs to redeem himself. 

We do get to see Adel’s change of heart at the end of the game, but it’s much less than we see Naomi’s change of heart, considering that we not only had the last half of second opinion to see her finally doing good, but the entirety of trauma team to fully show how far she’s come. And I don’t necessarily mind that Adel’s redemption isn’t shown in as much detail, because I think that seeing his decent into evil as a foil to Naomi’s storyline could be much more interesting and novel. But that’s my main issue, is that I REALLY think there’s so much unexplored potential in his storyline

Basically I just really love Adel and I think he’s severly underrated...he has a pretty good character arc in-game and it’s something that I think can really be expanded upon if you acknowledge the potential he has as a complex, troubled character

[whaleofatjme1920]

Oh god please, more cheating and angst (hoodie? Tim? 👀👀👀) Idk u just write it so good and my aching heart feels better oddly because of it. I fuckn love angst djsjsjjdjdjd

Full Moon and Being A Horrible Person

[Masky X F!Reader]

[Warnings: language, physical cheating]

[AN: i love angst too]

The full moon makes us do weird things, it’s been well documented. From the people bouncing off the walls to inducing labor, all the way to making us make questionable decisions, the full moon is to blame, not him.

It was a full moon when he caught the eyes of a woman with dark, sweet chocolate colored eyes. She looked so beautiful under the lights of the bar, yellow illuminating her skin like it was gold.

She’d been flirting with him across the bar the entire night. Wry smiles, tapping her fingernails against the glass, twirling her dark hair and giggling when he caught her eyes and by extension, her attention.

“You know Reader isn’t gonna be happy with your behavior,” Hoodie had lightly chided him before downing more of his beer. “Why don’t you let me take over? I haven’t-”

“No,” Tim laughed, pushing at his best friend’s shoulder. “It’s harmless flirting,” he finished, watching Hoodie’s expression from the corner of his eye.

“If Reader was doing this, would you consider it harmless flirting?”

Kate excused herself from her conversation with one of the ladies from the booth behind the table she and her group shared, then turned her attention to her group leader. “He has a point,” she said, grinning when Hoodie leaned over the table to high-five her.

Tim rolled his eyes and began to lazily swish his drink. “It’s nothing, I promise.”

“You mean to say you haven’t emptied your balls in a few weeks and you’re desperate,” Hoodie deadpans, breaking his blank expression when Kate loudly laughs.

“Again, he has a point,” Kate smirked. “C’mon, let Hoodie or Toby take this one. Neither of them are in relationships and are less likely to get attached.”

Tim raises a brow at Kate. “Attached? What does that mean?”

Hoodie shares a look with the woman across from him who nods at him to explain what exactly she means. “She uh,” Hoodie awkwardly sips at his beer before biting the bullet completely. “C’mon man, you have an addictive personality. Pills, cigarettes, Reader…” He trails off before Tim hisses and punches Hoodie’s shoulder, roughly. Hoodie only barks a laugh and raises his hand up in submission. “I’m right, I’m always right!” He manages to choke out through remaining giggles.

“Can we just drop it for now?” Tim growls.

Kate rolls her eyes and then pulls a face to Hoodie, who stifles his laughter just barely before she turns back to her conversation with the ladies from the booth behind her. She’s up and out of her seat following a group of them to the other side of the bar, giggling and laughing as a woman with short pink hair holds her hand and weaves her through the crowds.

Hoodie feigns innocence before standing up. “I’m gonna find Tobes, who knows what he’s doing. Tearing up the dance floor, maybe?”

Tim watches as his best friend shuffles out from his seat, beer still in hand as he disappears into the sea of people. He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. His dark eyes scan the bustling room full of bright, rainbow colored strobe lights and too loud music only to catch a glimpse of the full moon outside. It’s tinged pink, and seems to blossom the longer he looks at it. Due to where they’re currently at in the city, he can’t see the stars - much too much light pollution. A sigh is about to escape his lips when he feels a hand brushing over his, pulling him from the light of the full moon and onto the woman he’d been flirting quietly with all night.

“Never thought I’d get you alone,” she says, voice sweet like honey and smoother than silk.

Tim thinks about his words, his group’s chiding before mentally shrugging off all responsibilities. “I know, right?” He replies, voice low and deep, something charming and sweet.

She grins like the Cheshire Cat before playfully biting her lip. “I’m just passing through here,” she begins, “maybe we could… Have a few more drinks then head back to my hotel room?”

Tim feels a slight blush come to his cheeks before swallowing it back down. He smirks, leaning into her presence. “I’d love nothing more.”

The two of them knock back a few more drinks, the woman mostly choosing fruity things and Tim sticking to whiskey. Their touches become more and more bold, and their words more lusty and obscene by the moment. He has her sit on his lap and he whispers all the nasty things he wants to do to her and she gobbles it up, giggles and soft licks to the shell of his ear driving him up a wall.

And then, he follows her to her hotel. It’s a tangle of lips smashing against lips, hearts beating in sync and hands grabbing in the most inappropriate of places. Her clothes lie on the floor before getting covered up by his, her body following in suit.

Tim takes her. He drinks her in full and has her seeing the stars that were once only gazed upon by you. He touches her in ways you’ve never been touched and allows her to touch him in ways he’d always claimed were ‘too much’ for him.

When the deed is done, he’s cuddling her much like he would cuddle you, cigarette in his mouth and bliss on his face.

Tim stayed the night.

The next morning, he’s so groggy that he doesn’t even realize he’s still got her lipstick stains on his skin. He gets back in his car (failing to realize his group had to either walk back to the temp or hitch with someone else), and heads back to the only true home he’d ever considered.

It’s a few hours to your place, but he makes it, and that’s all that matters. Your car isn’t in the driveway, so he lets himself in. A quiet stumble to the bathroom and he sees he looks like a mess. The weight of what he did to you begins to sink in.

Tim turns the shower on and strips off his clothing - the clothes still linger with her perfume before he hops in and begins to furiously scrub at his skin. Tears well in his eyes. How could he do that to you? What kind of common sense was he lacking in that moment?

He continues to scrub, slowly coming to the realization that he’s going to do whatever it takes to hide this from you - you can never know. It was the light of the full moon, people always act crazy when the moon is in that phase, and he was drunk, like really drunk.

Excuses, excuses.

The water stops right when he hears the front door open. He hears your voice. You’re greeting him sweetly, like you always do.

He takes in a deep breath. You can never know.

It was only inevitable that you’d find out, though he’s surprised you went as long as you did without knowing. Tim hid it from you for months, and he probably could’ve kept it longer if he didn’t come with you to Target when you asked. You’d always been a fan of late night store runs, and he hadn’t gone on one with you in a while… What harm could it possibly do?

A lot. A lot of harm that surfaced the truth.

“I should’ve cuffed you when I had a chance!” The woman giggled as she came up beside you as you looked at the early Halloween decorations.

You raised a brow. “Excuse me?” You looked over to your boyfriend, whose face had gone pale. “I think you have the wrong…”

“You’re a lucky girl, y’know that?” She continued, brushing off your words. “He took me to the moon.” Her voice was so sultry and decadent. “Hope he takes you to the moon as well,” she says, her fingers trailing Tim’s arm.

He pulls away from her. “W...Who are you?” He says, attempting to sound confused.

The woman pulls a face before looking in between the two of you, her dark eyes glancing and putting together the pieces. Instead of being embarrassed or ashamed, she chuckles and begins to take off again. “I did you a favor, honey,” she calls over her shoulder, hips swaying as she turns down another aisle.

You don’t want to admit it, but now you know why Tim’s been so weird lately and nicer than usual. Sure, Tim is a sweet guy, but his behavior the past few months has been OVERLY nice, and now you know why. “What was that?” You ask, eyes narrowing and tears welling.

“Nothing, let’s just pay and get out-”

“I wanna go home.”

Tim moves to rest his hand on your shoulder, but you recoil as if you’d been burned.

A huge argument ensued when the two of you got back into the car, lots of harsh words were traded. He tried reasoning with you, he tried telling you how much he loved you, he tried everything in his power but he’d ruined a good thing.

You ended up pulling over on the side of the road, slamming the breaks, tears in your eyes and turned to him. “Give me the key to my house.”

“What? No-”

“Give. Me. The. Key. Tim,” you hiss, punctuating every word with stronger venom. You held your hand out.

Tim sighs deeply and reaches into his pocket, pinching the bridge of his nose as you harshly snatch the key from his awaiting hand. “It’s not like that, you know I love you-”

“Is that what you’re calling it? Cheating on me and then lying about it for months?” You rhetorically ask, growling and seething further and further. You feel rage wracking your system as it exhausts you further and further. You can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, because if you do, you’ll melt.

“I’m telling you, it was to protect you,” he attempts again. “Let’s just, let’s just go home and-”

“Get the fuck out of my car,” you say, drawing in every remaining and residual strength you have as hot tears scald your cheeks.

“You don’t mean that-”

“I do.”

“Reader, baby please-”

“Get the fuck out of my car,” you repeat. You squeeze your eyes shut, shake your head and then turn back to the road. “Do it before I do something stupid.”

Tim feels his heart shatter, cracking on impact as it falls deeper and deeper. He shakily runs his fingers through his hair before sliding out of your car, slamming the door shut and watches as you drive off and out of his life. He wants to scream, or cry, maybe both at the same time? He’s not entirely sure yet. He just knows his world is crashing down and there’s nothing he can do about it.

He betrayed your trust and broke your heart all for one singular night of passion.

The emotionally distraught man looks up at the moon, finding no solace that it’s full again.

[butwhatifidothis]

I think for me the main hiccup for SS as a route is that Byleth is... kinda hard to emotionally connect to? I feel like there's a reason it's such a common complaint that there's no lord on SS.

Byleth doesn’t really have focus put on their character in any route - it’s more the mysteries surrounding them that are interesting than Bylth’s actual reaction to them. Whether it comes to emotional range, physical actions, or internal conflict, Byleth is far flatter than even any other regular character, let alone one that is meant to be the head of an entire route. Their (non-voiced) lines are fairly bland for the most part, they have no portraits to impact said lines like everyone else, their 3D model rarely changes expression - all of this makes the decisions they make lack any punch to them. It just feels like actions they happen to take - they don’t have any urgency to them.

Seteth having to play middleman to Byleth’s thoughts probably plays another role in way SS falls flat for a lot of people. Again, Byleth can’t directly express most of their thoughts since they don’t have almost any speaking lines, so Seteth is left to play two characters essentially, which mostly serves to bring down his character as well. Easily the best example of this dynamic failing hard is when Byleth just kinda forgets that they were the ones to come up with the plan to infiltrate Merceus, which has Seteth explain their own plan back to them just so that the player can know what’s going on. Because instead of just making this Seteth’s idea - because this is Byleth’s route technically so Byleth should be the ones having the agency to do things - or have Byleth come up with the plan on screen - which is impossible because Byleth doesn’t have the dialogue freedom to do this - it’s just this sloppy exposition dump.

Like... I know Byleth as a character wants to save Rhea, right? But I know that fact in a far different way than I know that, say, Dimitri as a character wants to kill Edelgard in the beginning of AM. With him I can really feeeel his want as something that comes from a deeply personal place for him, with it deeply being interwoven in his overall motivations that are themselves deeply interwoven throughout his entire character; with Byleth it’s kinda like. Knowing that grass is green. Like yeah I know that but why would I care. Imo it never really felt like Byleth as a character was invested in saving Rhea out of a personal drive to do so, but more so Byleth as a plot device needing to want to save Rhea in order to move the plot along.

Like personally I think SS only has any real emotional impact if you care for Seteth, Flayn, and Rhea’s feelings, but even then a lot of their screentime is dedicated to moving the plot along more so than it is getting a feel for their character - Rhea’s barely even in the route in the first place, to make things worse. And, if you’re investment into SS does rely on your love for the Nabatean fam, then you’re rewarded with having to beat the shit out of Rhea after she’s just taken multiple missiles to the face to save your ass, after she’d suffered through fives years of imprisonment. And unless you’ve gotten arguably the hardest support chain to complete in the game, this straight up kills Rhea. So in the end, in most cases, all that work you put in saving and rescuing Rhea still ends with her being just as dead as if you’d never found her! Yippee.

And if you’re in it for the mystery? You wanna know all the answers about what’s going on? Sure, you do get the reveal of the mysteries surrounding Byleth - which is going to be one of the main draws for Byleth since they don’t have much of a set personality at any point, and they don’t really bounce off of Seteth that well in SS specifically - but you get these answers... all dumped on you in one infodump. Before, again, being forced by the game to beat the shit out of the one you just saved, who just saved you, and who just gave you all the answers you wanted. Yeeeeah not for me lmao

[bestintheparsec]

As Does the Snow

Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You and your neighbor, Frankie, get snowed in together. 

A/N: I wrote this down when the power was out while I was—you guessed it—snowed in. Nothing too deep/angsty in this (for once), just softness. Thank you for reading and I hope you like it!

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: none, some obvious tropes (snowed in, there was only one bed)

*Masterlist pinned to my page

~

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, prompting you to drop the pile of clothes you’re holding to answer it.

“Hey, Santi,” you answer the familiar friendly voice on the other end.

“You lose power yet?” he asks, slight concern in his tone.

“Just about an hour ago,” you reply, peering out the window. The sun’s still out, so you’ll be okay for a few more hours until it sets.

You’d all been expecting the power to go out, of course. The news has been tracking a seemingly out-of-nowhere snow storm that’s been headed your way, starting its impact a few hours earlier. You hadn’t expected to lose power so soon, though—it usually takes a lot more ice or wind to damage the lines. You’ve been preparing as best as you can for the cold nights ahead. With the lack of heat and power, it was bound to be a long night or two.

“You have everything you need, right?” he asks after a short silence. Santi and the other guys, most of them, live closer to the city and away from the countryside that you'd chosen to live in. With the way the roads are, everyone's been warned not to drive if possible. Not that there’s anywhere to go.

“Yeah, I always do—”

“Listen, I was wondering if you could go stay with Frankie during this whole thing,” he chimes in.

Frankie lives across the street from you—you’ve been good friends with him ever since you moved in years ago, even becoming a part of his group of ex-military friends when he introduced you to them, and you'd fit in like you’d always belonged there. It’s perfectly reasonable that Santi would ask you to go stay with your friend to hunker down during a storm. You would all stay with each other if you could, but seeing as that���s impossible and you and Frankie only have each other right now…yes, completely reasonable.

Fuck, who are you kidding?

What seems like a long time ago, you realized you had feelings for Frankie. And, by some luck—or not—you found out they were reciprocated.

But things don’t always work out the way you want them to; hell, it seems like things never do. At the end of the day, you both had wanted to pursue something more with each other, but life got in the way, just as it often does. You both had a lot going on in your lives back then, things you had to deal with and sort out alone. Ultimately—awkward conversations and deep talks and all—you’d both decided it was best if you simply stayed friends, lest things become overcomplicated.

And so you did. Despite this small history, things haven't really been awkward since then. He’s still a good friend to you, one of your best friends, really, and the subject hasn’t been mentioned again ever since.

Only, you haven’t really moved on. You haven’t been much good at leaving the feelings behind you, either. At first you just kept shoving them away, trying to convince yourself that you felt nothing at all whenever you were with him, nothing except friendly love for one of your best friends. But despite your best attempts not to, you found yourself slowly falling more for him. Being close to him for this long has made it even harder for you to move past it.

Not that you've addressed any of this again.

Had you sorted out the things you were dealing with back then? Maybe. But you’d both decided on what was best, years ago, and given that Frankie hasn’t brought it up again since, it’s likely he wants to keep things that way. Time tends to help some people to move on, where it drives the knife in deeper for others. Frankie’s been on plenty of dates since then, even a relationship or two. So you know you were probably just a momentary interlude in his love life, someone he stopped thinking about in that way long before you could ever even think about moving on. You're nothing more than a good friend to him now. And so you've kept your continued feelings for him to yourself, allowing them to thinly layer your friendship like a light dusting of sugar that’s never quite sweet enough to stand on its own.

But the thought of sheltering with him for a few days? You're not sure if you can keep your feelings contained if you're with him for that long and with that much free time to get lost in your thoughts. But given the seriousness of the storm, you were both bound to end up at one or the other's place, anyways.

You must have been silent for a little too long, because Santi speaks again, breaking your thoughts. “You can watch over each other, that sort of thing. Besides, you know how he can be…” he trails off, waiting for you to answer.

“I—yeah, I’ll go over there,” you finally agree, nodding to yourself. “I was going to check up on him eventually, anyways. I’ll go over as soon as I finish up what I’m doing.”

“Sounds good—let us know if you run into any trouble. We’ll find a way over there if we need to.”

You mutter a quick thanks and remind them to stay safe before hanging up, tossing your phone onto the couch with a resigned sigh. Moments later you pick it up again, quickly sending a text to Frankie to ask him if it’s alright for you both to bunker together for the night. Which he quickly agrees to, of course—you’ve spent many evenings over at his place, or his at yours.

Really, you don’t know why your brain’s suddenly trying to make this weird for you. You’ll bring some snacks and blankets, and it’ll be just like any other Friday night you’ve spent with him. Not weird. There’s nothing there (at least on his end) for you to feel awkward about.

You shake your head and finish your emergency preparations, trying to be done with it before it gets dark so you can head over to Frankie’s.

~

Exhaling deeply first, you ring Frankie’s doorbell.

“Coming!” His deep voice calls from inside.

You shove your hands into your pockets then change your mind, moving them to grip anxiously onto the straps of your backpack. Another few moments pass before you hear Frankie trod to the door. He answers it with a soft smile plastered on his face, the same one he uses every time he greets you. Immediately taking the bag you’re carrying off your arm, he beckons you inside and you follow, shrugging off your backpack.

"Did you need help with anything?" You ask, dropping your bag onto the ground and looking around the darkened place. The windows are covered, there's flashlights and candles out on the table, and a couple cases of water are stacked in the kitchen.

He’s layered up in clothing just like you are—a familiar flannel button-up peeking out from under his jacket. His hair is messy like he’s been running around all day, which he probably has been from the looks of it. If you had to describe it, he looks like...home.

Stop it, you mentally chastise yourself.

“Nah, I’m just making some final tweaks,” he remarks, walking over to pull the living room curtains shut. “The house is warm enough for now, but it won’t be long before it starts feeling like the inside of a fridge in here.”

He turns back to face you with a different sort of smile on his lips, a gentle expression you can’t quite make out.

Unbeknownst to you, Frankie’s been in deep for you, too. He knows you'd both agreed not to date, but over time he's come to greatly regret that decision. It was the right one at the time, but he can't help but wish things had gone a little differently. There’s no one he’d rather be around, and any and all dates he’s been on over the years have failed for the same reason—they’re not you. They could never be you.

Chances come and go, and his has gone. In more ways than one you’re a light in his life, someone he couldn’t ever deserve, and somehow he’s lucky enough to have you in his life at all—even if it’s just as friends. If he’s a better person now, a lot of it’s because you’ve been there to pick up the pieces, the same way he does and will always do for you without a second thought.

But something you can’t help him with is the fact that he’s fallen for you, hard, long after you’d both agreed to just be friends. And he keeps on falling.

He knows people change their mind all the time, but he’s been unwilling and unable to bring it up again with you. For all he knows, that agreement had just been your gentle way of telling him “it’s never going to happen.” He doesn't want to risk scaring you off and losing one of the best people in his life.

Frankie comes back to reality, watching you smooth out the front of your shirt.

“Okay, well, I brought some of my blankets in case we need to pile them up…” you say, pointing to the large bag you brought. “And since your stove is electric, it looks like we’ll be eating snacks for dinner.”

“That’s bold of you to assume,” he retorts, walking over to the kitchen. With a silly gesture, he proudly uncovers a large dish full of one of your favorites.

Frankie is certainly no chef, but he can put together a dish or two, even going out of his way to learn how to make the things that you both love. He puts a hand on his hip, amused by the surprised look on your face. “I made it before the power went out. They did teach us some things about preparation in the military, you know,” he teases, dimple on full display.

“And here I was packing junk food and sandwiches, like a loser,” you jest, grinning back at him. Frankie somehow always manages to make your life a little better. He beams and your chest constricts at the sight.

"Oh, we'll definitely need those for later," he reassures you with a grin. "If the guys were here that'd all be gone before the worst of the storm even hits," he adds, making you laugh.

Some of your favorite nights with Frankie are the ones that are completely uneventful, ones where you relax after a long day of work and binge your favorite snacks while watching some crappy movie on the couch. Then again, it's always the little things that make you happy when it comes to him.

~

Once you've had your dinner you both get comfortable next to each other on the couch, chatting about life and nothing in particular, the way you often do—minus the lack of electricity and a mostly dark room that’s barely lit up by a couple of small camping lights Frankie has. No doubt the other guys would make things a lot more chaotically entertaining if they were all here, but you’re happy it’s just the two of you now—even if it does make it harder for you to think straight at the moment.

Frankie says something that makes you chuckle and you look up at him, noting the delicate smile on his lips and the way it almost balances out the tired lines under his eyes.  He meets your eyes, and if he looks like he wants to say something else, it's probably only in your mind because he doesn't.

The wind outside makes itself known, rattling the windows in its wake. You're suddenly grateful you'd agreed to come and stay with Frankie. Although you’re lucky to have a shelter, these kinds of storms are best when you don't have to ride them out alone.

You also become hyper-aware of how intimate the moments you share with Frankie are. At the end of the day, you're glad he's in your life, even if it's not the way the younger version of you wanted. You still have him and he has you, and that's really more than you could ever ask for.

A chill suddenly makes its way through you.

"Are you shivering?" Frankie stops talking mid-thought to ask you.

"What? No, I—" He cuts you off with a chuckle and shakes his head, reaching down into your bag. With a quick movement he pulls a beanie on over your head, purposely tugging it past your eyes as you laugh and playfully smack his hand away.

"Watch yourself, Morales," you attempt to glare at him as you smooth down your hair, but fail to contain your smile when you see that goofy twinkle in his eyes.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” he concedes and raises his hands in mock surrender. The grin is still on his face as he moves to fix the beanie on your forehead. Another quiet chuckle escapes his lips until his fingers move away from your forehead, accidentally grazing along your cheek.

It’s not the chill that makes you both fall abruptly silent.

It’s almost as if the wind wiped the grins off your faces as Frankie looks into your eyes with an intense gaze. His hand still hovers along your cheek, neither of you seeming able to move. You’re suddenly grateful that it’s impossible for him to hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears right now. Your imagination must be getting the better of you again, because you almost believe that there’s something wistful about the look on his face.

But just like that, he drops his hand and you both avert your eyes.

“It’s, um...getting late,” you break the silence. “We better get settled before it really starts getting cold in here.”

Frankie clears his throat, nodding in agreement and standing to pile some blankets onto the couch.

“What are you doing?” you ask him.

“Um...you know I don’t have the guest room set up. There’s just the bed in my room. You go get cozy, I’ll take the couch.”

"What? I'm not gonna steal your bed, Fr—"

“And I'm not going to have you uncomfortable in my house,” he brushes you off with a wave of the hand. “It's fine, querida, really. You know I've knocked out on this couch more times than I can count." Your chest warms at the sound of his pet name for you. It's harmless, just something he's always called you. But for some reason it makes your face warm to hear it this time.

“No, I mean...isn’t it better if we share? I think the whole point is to keep our bodies warm. It’s easier to do that if we’re in one room.”

He finally meets your eyes again, holding your gaze as though there's more than one thing on his mind, then runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

“I...Are you sure? I really don’t have any problem with—”

You smile softly at him, trying to hide any indication of awkwardness in your tone. “Yes, Frankie, it’s fine. Really. Besides, we can stack all our blankets together this way.”

He smiles back. “I have a big, fluffy one we can use, too.”

~

All the remaining heat in the house has definitely dissipated now, leaving behind a frigid chill. It's bearable for the time being, but leaves your skin covered in goosebumps anytime you expose so much as a sliver of skin to the air. The last time you checked, the snow had already made a significant cushion to the ground outside, and was still going strong.

You've been in bed for an hour or two, huddled into a ball underneath several layers of blankets and refusing to move because it only makes you colder to shift the air around.

Frankie's asleep next to you—you assume he's asleep, anyways. Neither of you have said a word in a while, and with the pattering sounds of snow falling outside, you're getting drowsy yourself. Still, you haven't been able to fall asleep, not even when you jam your eyes shut. It's too cold, for one thing, and for another, it's difficult to ignore the fact that he is right next to you. It's a big bed and there's a decent space between you, but still.

You shift positions yet again, trying to wrap yourself tighter in your section of the blankets. You move to readjust one of the blankets that's gotten pushed away, accidentally bumping Frankie's arm in the process. You grimace, hoping you didn't wake him.

"Your hand is like ice," Frankie's quiet voice suddenly fills the room.

"Oh—Sorry. I thought you were asleep," you mutter back, your voice muffled by the blankets.

"No. It's hard enough for me to sleep even when there's not a historic snowstorm going on." He jokes, though you know it goes deeper than that for him.

Not really knowing how to respond, you remain silent. Rolling onto your side facing away from him, you tuck yourself further into the blankets before resolving to pull them up and over your head entirely.

Frankie's soft laugh rumbles next to you. "Seriously, your skin is frozen," he tells you. “You’re like the opposite of a space heater right now,” he chuckles and you can hear the grin on his face.

You push the blanket off your face, feigning a groan. “Freezing weather and a lack of heat lends to poor circulation, Francisco.”

"I know, I just…maybe it would…it might be warmer if we slept closer together." His voice is so soft that you can’t help but think how nice it would be to fall asleep to the sound of it every night.

When you don’t answer right away he quickly adds, “Or not—I wasn’t trying to...I didn’t mean—Sorry.” Frankie shuffles uncomfortably under the covers.

“No, you’re right,” you murmur hesitantly, barely louder than a whisper. “It...would probably help.”

A beat of silence.

Then you hear Frankie gently move his pillow over towards you, scooting himself in until you can feel his warmth against you. He doesn’t move again at first, you only feel his chest rising and falling against your back. But ever so slowly, he wraps an arm over you, the weight of him sturdy and comforting. You can tell he’s tense—hesitant—until you place your own hand on his, holding him closer to you. Feeling you make yourself comfortable must put him at ease, and he relaxes around you. Neither of you say a word, just lay there sharing each other’s warmth.

You’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder on some late nights on the couch before—things two normal, friendly people do, right? But you’ve never let yourself think too much about it. You can hardly help it now, reveling in the way you feel safe in his arms, fitting perfectly along the curve of his body. You are warmer, although some of it may be because of the way your pulse is just a little bit quickened. You wouldn't mind if you had to stay like this forever.

Frankie quietly exhales, his breath warm against the back of your hair. “Better?” he finally speaks, his voice gravelly and hushed, not much louder than the sound of snow hitting the window.

A pause. “Yeah.”

You feel him relax even more, burying his cheek a little more into the space above your shoulders. “Let’s try to sleep, then, querida.”

And just like that, Frankie Morales manages to make you fall a little bit more in love with him.

It’s then that you realize—it’s always been simple with him. Everything is always...easy with him. Nothing’s overcomplicated or messy; it’s just you and Frankie. It’s what drew you to him first, long ago. It wasn’t the outspoken openness that that others had, nor the confident resolve, but the quiet way he cares for you. The way he manages to always make you laugh, even at the times when it’s almost impossible to. The way he makes you feel so whole that you forget there was ever anything missing in the first place. That’s how he found his way, permanently, into your heart.

For Frankie, it’s always been you. You’re a grounding presence to him, someone who’s made him familiar with peace again over the years.

He lies there listening to the sounds of your breathing, sure that you’re finally fast asleep. He feels sleep coming over himself, too. He knows he’ll sleep a little easier tonight with you. He’ll weather anything when it comes to you. That’s how he knows, and convinces himself that once this storm business is over, he’ll tell you. For now, he lets himself follow you into slumber. His last conscious thoughts are of how he wouldn't mind having you in his arms like this every night, and if it weren't for your warmth lulling him to sleep, he might've confessed to you right then and there.

 ~

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[damselofblueroses]

Bambi, Ch. 2, Ghost

You are my Bambi, girl, I am your candy, tell me what are you waiting for?

Summary: As an archaeologist who works on the Ancient Greece, you were on the verge of excavations’ session. While you have been preparing your team, you learned that your institute decided on your team has to work with another team as they wanted the outcome as a collaboration. The head of other team was your biggest rival, a scumbag in your eyes: Byun Baekhyun.

You two were supposed to work together for three months, in a Greek Island, Chios.

Could you manage to not kill Byun Baekhyun for three months?

Chapter Summary: Byun Baekhyun and the Reader remember the day they spent in UN Village together while they are heading to Chios. (Guys, this chapter, which is dedicated to the beginning of their relationship, is going to be two parts, otherwise it is going to be more than 20k lol)

Word Count: 11k

Content: AU, heavily Greek mythology, enemies to lovers.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story will be 7 or 8 chapters if I will not change my mind in the meantime. It is inspired by my major; however, I do not have a complete knowledge on archaeology, I am a historian. If I will make a technical mistake, please let me know. I am willing to receive any kind of feedback; you are more than welcomed to drop a message.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2: Ghost

5 years ago, Hannam-dong

Even if I want you so much it drives me crazy

You ghost

Even if I want and call for you all night long

You came to me and left without a word

You ghost, you ghost

You want to go crazy all night, you plead

You ghost

You disappeared again without a trace

“What type of sadistic and sick person could say that we have to work here?” you cursed between your teeth, you jaw clenched because of pure anger. “How do they expect us to do our job in the middle of fucking super-ultra-rich people?”

“Get used to it.” Junmyeon flinched your forehead, but his frustration was oblivious, even though he was doing definitely better than you. “Where is Baekhyun?”

“I do not know.” you recklessly pointed to the expensive cars on the road. “Maybe he was looking for a sugar mommy.”

“As your sunbae,” Minseok hit you. “I would like to remind you to hold on your manners.”

“Someone has to give a speech on manners to him.” your eyebrows knitted together. “Not to me.”

“Both of you,” Kyungsoo nonchalantly spoke. “need a really good beaten session, since both of you have no idea on how to behave.”

You threw the book you were holding to Kyungsoo, but he was too quick and easily saved himself from your unexpected attack.

“I am here, right?” you hissed. “Where the heck is that bastard? He always disappears when it comes to work, why do you hold me in the same esteem with him?”

“Because you are definitely a copy of Baekhyun.” Chanyeol laughed at your god-fucking-damn-it-so-horrible face expression. “Let’s face with the fact, Indy. Everyone knows that Baekhyun is a disciplined student, just as you are, badmouthed, just as you are.”

“Are you talking about me?” Baekhyun popped out of nowhere. “I heard you are praising me less than the way I deserve.”

Your face could be described as disgusted, but this would be the kindest way of telling how your appearance was. Actually, you wanted to punch his narcissistic self-perspective, to shake his cage in order to give him the lesson he deserved, but you did not want to be scolded by Junmyeon again. You just walked away from him, needing to put a safe distance between yourself and Baekhyun.

God, if you could run away to space, you would do it in order to not infuse with the same air with Baekhyun.

You disliked him, you disliked the way of his well-being, you disliked his velvety voice, his lame jokes, his sharp remarks, you disliked everything about Byun Baekhyun.

And you hated yourself because of finding him very handsome. Sometimes, you caught yourself, staring at Baekhyun, forgetting how to breath properly. His face was like a gift of God himself; his body ratio made you to say oh-my-fucking-god.

Thank God, he had the most annoying character, because if he had a good personality, you knew that you would fall in love over the heels with him.

“What kind of idiot chained us here?” Baekhyun asked to Junmyeon. “Fuck’s sake, what the heck we are going to here? Digging beneath the Richie riches’ villas?”

Chanyeol bite his lips before looking at you, silently reminding your own words and his remarks about being very same with Baekhyun. You did not back off, staring at Chanyeol with all frustration went through your veins, causing Chanyeol to laugh. Baekhyun hit his head, then walked towards Junmyeon to take his own tool bag.

You hated him for this, too. He was acting like he was a superior, like he was better than any of you, and what got your nerves badly was no one scold him as they would scold you if you would do the same things.

“Yeah, I am like this scumbag who does not carry even his own stuff, huh?” you literally sizzled between your teeth, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo heard your annoyed voice, but they preferred to keep their silence. Your hate was not a secret for the team, everyone was aware of the fact that putting you and Baekhyun was a dangerous decision since he also loathed you.

But to your dismays, you were the brightest students Sejong could always play on.

“Seriously what we are going to do?” Baekhyun repeated his question because he really did not have a single clue.

“Didn’t you read the mail Sejong sent us?” Jongdae asked him, raising one eyebrow. Baekhyun shrugged his shoulder, you bit your lower lip in order keep your frustration under your control. What a bastard!

“We have to visit UN Village, there are seven neighbourhood where we have to go and collect the permissions of the residents.” Junmyeon run his hand through his hair. He was already on the verge of cracking since he was the one who had to deal with a lot of capricious upper-class members in order to complete this fucking task. He wished nothing but changing his path, he started to think like the field was not his cup of tea, but before resigning from leadership, he wanted to find a good candidate who could lead the team.

He wanted you to be that leader. You and Baekhyun. Heretofore, Junmyeon laid his eyes on both of you and your abilities persuaded him to nominate your names when he could propose an election. He did not want to be a fieldperson, he wished to stay in his office, but at the same time, he could not inherit his legacy, Godfuckingdamnit Junmyeon’s did his best in order to engrave his name as one of the most successful captains, to anyone but the best. Yet, Junmyeon had no idea how to put you in good terms, since you were like a cat and dog, and Chanyeol, that giant idiot, used every opportunity to fan the flames, even that silent Kyungsoo enjoyed watching intangible scuffles between you and Baekhyun.

Junmyeon has been sensing that the team was becoming aware of the situation and camping as two different poles. Jongdae, Shinhye and Minseok were setting off closer to you while Chanyeol, Kyungsoo and the newbie, Jongin have been shifting to Baekhyun’s side. Damn, Junmyeon could not let it to be happen. He needed all of you under the same umbrella, especially you and Baekhyun had to stay together. He was seeing a great potential of you, if you could combine your powers, you were going to be the perfect team. Period.

“Let’s split into teams.” his eyes wandered around all of you. “We are eight, if we can divide ourselves into four teams, we will finish the job easier and quicker.”

“Yeah, you are right.” Kyungsoo approved. “I am going to take Chanyeol.”

“Are you my superior, dumbass?” Chanyeol hit his shoulder, but he was laughing. “I am with Kyungsoo.”

“Good.” Junmyeon inhaled. “Shinhye, you are with Jongdae.”

You automatically stirred next to Minseok, however you shuttered after hearing Junmyeon’s next orders.

“Indy, you and Baekhyun are together, Minseok, let’s go.”

“What?!” you immediately stopped and hissed at Junmyeon. “Am I with who?”

Jongdae realized the storm before seeing the clouds, clever as always, he disappeared while dragging Shinhye with him. You even did not notice, but Chanyeol’s smile widened, Kyungsoo smirked, and they rushed to their own direction.

Only four of you were standing on the pavement, you were throwing daggers to Junmyeon with your eyes. Baekhyun was nonchalantly looking at Junmyeon, while Minseok could not find a way to break the tension.

Junmyeon was cool as a cucumber.

“You are with Baekhyun.” he repeated his words, sounding like he was condemning you with execution. “What? Do you have a rejection?”

“Yes!” you exploded without thinking. “Why shou-

“Believe me,” Baekhyun interrupted your words, he was indifferent to your frustration. “I did not beg for being in the same team with you.”

“Did I claim that?” you swiftly turned on your tiptoes. “Did I say you are eager to be with me?”

“It would be the greatest joke you could make.” Baekhyun winked to you. “But you are not so into the entertainment, right?”

“Baekhyun,” Minseok noisily cleared his throat. “I am not sur-

“What do you know about me?” you heard your own voice. “This is why we cannot work together, you always make assumptions out of your ass, instead I work as organized, with the facts and tangible proofs.”

“What do you know about me?” Baekhyun coldly smiled at you, you could not describe its impacts on you, that smile had you wanting to punch him at the same time ignited some fires in your lower stomach. “We barely talk, have you been watching me all the time?”

“You wish.” you took a deep breath. “You are not worth my time.”

“Oh,” his eyes glimmered with a menacing luminescence. “I am deeply wounded.”

“If you are done,” Junmyeon raised his hands to the air. “We have to work.”

“Jun-

“Young lady,” Baekhyun barged on. “They did not teach you this, so it’s up to me but we are not in kindergarten anymore.”

You had to admit, no one could get your nerves till now like Baekhyun did.

You had to admit, you hated being called as a kid. Junmyeon’s eyes blown up when Baekhyun labelled you as a kid, before he could open his mouth, you stared at Baekhyun.

“I can see why we could be a team.” you took the directional instructions from Junmyeon’s hand. “A kindergarten kid has to take care of a cry baby while the adults have to work.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrowed, but you wholly ignored his visible annoyance, and started to walk. Junmyeon was looking at your back with a little bit concerned face, but he knew that he did what he had to do.

You were going to scold Junmyeon in the following hours of the day, however, now your job was teaching a couple of lessons on manners to this scumbag who has been walking beside you.

You spent the first hour in a total silence, talking only if the occasion called for it. The tension between you and Baekhyun was solid, someone could cut it with a knife without any problem. Baekhyun was bored to death, he never plan to have a day like this, he wanted to enjoy everything he did, he thought he could be with Chanyeol or Kyungsoo, having fun to death.

Instead, he was trapped with you.

The only girl he loathed to the bits.

He could not endure to hear your voice, even though you talked with the residents very kindly and respectfully. He had to admit that you were doing a good job, but it did not change anything he felt for you. He had been cursing Junmyeon since he put you two in the same task, however, he knew that if Junmyeon wanted something from Baekhyun, he would do it without question. Baekhyun could be many things, but he was loyal to his friends, and Junmyeon had a special place in his heart.

Also, behind the curtains of his hate, he could see why Junmyeon gave you to him. Although you were an abominable bitch, an obnoxious creature, a walking blasphemy, and a hate crime, Baekhyun did not think you could be an offspring of a lovely or healthy relationship, he was sure your parents were diabolical beasts, to his disappointment, you were reallyclever.

He wished you could be more reliable person, so he could work with you.

Baekhyun did not like to confess, yet he was aware of the fact that he desperately needed his own Evelyn O’Connor. Someone who could play the game with him, as his trustable partner in crime. He was extremely close to Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, but they were not equal to his wits and ambitions. Sometimes he was brassed off the conversations, time to time he found them boring and lame. His logic was faster than his mates, actually he was longing for nothing, but someone was equal to his high-speed brain.

You could be the one he was searching for, but you were made of poison, greed, and wickedness. Even if he would be blessed by the Heavens, he could not agree to work someone with you.

“Your Highness,” he heard your fucking voice. “We have to visit at least twelve houses more; do you mind hurrying up?”

“The only thing I mind is your fucking attitude.” he gritted his teeth. “Give the plan to me.”

“So, you can destroy everything I organized properly?” you smirked. “I do not think so.”

“Organized?” Baekhyun cocked his eyebrow. “Organized, my ass. Didn’t you lose Park Sangwan’s house? Twice?”

“Look who is talking.” the red of embarrassment slightly painted your cheeks and ears. “The one who had no idea about today’s plans.”

“At least I did not lose my fucking way and circled around the same house almost for half an hour.”

“And the award goes to Byun Baekhyun for his greatest achievements.” you gave back the wink to him, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Oh, breaking news. No achievement no award.”

Baekhyun took it personally since you two competed to each other as the finalists of last academic year. Your project was accepted as the winner while Baekhyun received only a certificate. You hit the lotto, he had to watch you, walking to the stage with a bright smile tugged on your lips.

Still, he could vividly remember the little smirk you gave to him that night when they announced your name.

“You did it consciously.” his jaw clenched. “That night. When they called you as the winner. You immediately turned to me just to annoy me.”

“It seems, I achieve my goal.” your smirk widened, a glistening layer of fun covered your face. “Were you disappointed?”

“Yeah, of course.” he did not miss a single second. “I was disappointed of the professors, I was believing they were cleverer than me, but their choice showed me they were nothing but idiots.”

“Could you smell the air, Baekhyun?” you asked with a serious face. He was confused for a second, you never ask a question to him or call him by his name, but before he could register, you tucked the words in his throat. “Oh, jealousy, my favourite.”

“Darling,” Baekhyun swallowed hard. “There is no single living soul who can be low enough to jealous you in this universe.”

That was not quite truth, because Baekhyun not only remembered your revengeful smile but also how you were looking like that day. He could paint you on canvas by closed eyes, and he would not miss a single detail.

And he was a little bit jealous on that day. Not only because he lost over to you, but also because of the people around you. You annoyed him not only with your award, but also with your closeness to the other men.

Despite of your usual oversize clothes or no makeup policy, you chose to present yourself in a different style. Your hair was perfectly combed, your makeup highlighted your face features, and you were wearing a little light blue dress which tightly caressed your body. Baekhyun, or none of your classmates knew that you had curves for example till that night and to Baekhyun’s dismay, you had a really good body. You were a minion, your beauty was very soft and although he really hated to admit this, you were a view for the spectators. Maybe not the prettiest, but you had something had people looking at you, liking you, desiring you.

You had an aura which was enough to make your biggest enemy to silently acknowledged that you were attractive.

“Maybe, there is no one.” you shrugged your shoulder. “But youwere eager to low yourself, huh?”

You did not forget the look on Baekhyun’s face when Professor Kim called you to the stage. You were sure as fuck, he was cursing you but also there was something else, glowing in his eyes. Something you could not describe, but you could see the same emotion in your reflection when you saw Baekhyun with that crowd of girls.

Rarely.

But still you knew that feeling.

That ceremony was hard for you, of course you were over the moon because of your achievement, that project opened you some fresh opportunities and proved that despite of being a junior, you were more than a bachelor student. You proved your talents and abilities to yourself by winning the first place, you completed a step, made your first goal come true.

And you nailed Byun Baekhyun’s coffin. It was worth of every minute you spent sleepless, your tears and sweats, the hours in library, the hours in front of the plan of Gyeongbokgung Palace and search for the most logical and safest ways of conducting an excavation around the palace.

Your ideas were chosen over Baekhyun’s ideas, and you were aware of the quality of the solutions he proposed.

You were proud of yourself.

It was the bare truth that Baekhyun’s face were singing to you just as your favourite band could sing, seeing his face just like someone fed him with cucumbers was equal to being accepted into your dream field, Chios’ excavations, as the chief archaeologist.

But you were annoyed.

You could not happily taste your success. You could not feel its flavour on your tongue buds.

Because of that bastard looked fucking magnificent in that bloody black suit.

You have been told about the dress code you had to follow, however no one, not a single soul managed to catch his level of looking good in a suit.

You were annoyed because your taste in men was exactly equal to Byun Baekhyun. He had everything you could ask for, he was devilishly charming, there was even no need for words to describe him, he was beautiful.

And he was the only one you hated the most.

Every girl in the room was drooling over him, to your dismay, just like you. You felt that feeling in your stomach, a pain which was spinning, spinning, and spinning, causing a tornado inside of your stomach.

Was it jealousy?

“I already noticed your ignorance about the feelings.” Baekhyun could not control himself anymore and grabbed your shoulder, turning you to the opposite direction. “We have to follow this fucking street, or we will be lost again.”

“Have you been observing me, Baekhyunnie? That’s so cute.” you ignored the second part of his words, just starting to walk on the direction he instructed to you.

“Observing you takes a minute, baby girl, since there is nothing to see.” he answered but he found it interesting when you called him as Baekhyunnie. “You are a spoiled brat.”

“Hop, that hurts.” you pouted, pressed your fist on your chest, faking a whimper. “Would you like to tame this spoiled brat?”

You started to think that you went nuts.

“In your dreams.” Baekhyun laughed, but he literally lost himself in the fucking possibilities you could be tamed by him. “You have to wait a couple of centuries for someone who can be willing to be with you.”

You chuckled but preferred to keep your silence after his words. Damn, your sudden quietude caught Baekhyun’s attention more. Why didn’t you not attack to him? Why didn’t you give him a sharp answer as you should have?

Why you chuckled like there was a line at your door?

Was it?

Baekhyun pondered that instead of the fact that you were generally with a small group of friends, to both of your dismays your common friends, he did not see you with strangers, so there could not a queue for your hand.

Could it be?

And why the fuck he should have care if there is a crowd for you or not? No one could want someone like you if they did not lose their mind.

But he cared. Fuck, he cared more than he wanted.

Because to his disappointment, he knew that there was a real cavalcade of knightly candidates for you.

“Okey,” you checked the time. “After this one, I am going to have lunch.”

“We are going to have lunch.” Baekhyun gritted his teeth. “I hate eating alone enough to endure your presence.”

“Didn’t you tell me there is no one who could want to be with me?” you snickered. “But you have no reservations about having lunch with me?”

“Imagine the situation I am in.” he grumbled. “The day gets better and better.”

You decided to annoy him, pushing him to the edges as much as you could do. The first response that came to your mind refusing him, but the other option was funnier. You could play with Byun Baekhyun, you could take your revenge by being a pain in the ass.

He said that he could endure your presence.

You could make him regretful of his words.

There was a very little smile tugged on your lips which you were not aware of, however, to his dismay, Baekhyun realized it.

Her lips are rosy and plump, he thought to himself. Even though he called you a spoiled brat, he was not sure of if you were a brat or not. Kiddos have not the type of lips, calling people for the kisses, like you. There was something, even during your cocky performances when you tried to beat the life out of him, although you always kept that dull and bored expression and acted like Baekhyun was not worth of your time, but there was something just in you.

Baekhyun swallowed down his own vomit when he admitted it to himself, and you have caught his glare.

“What?” you purred. “Can’t you take your eyes off me?”

“Who the hell wants to watch you?” he quickly collected his thoughts and put them in a fucking trail. “I am looking for a restaurant where we can have good food.”

After a permanent mutual ignorance session for years, his next words caught you off your guard.

“You like local foods, right?” he asked. “I guess the second shop on this street is famous for jjangmyeon and tteokbokki.”

Well, you had to admit that his questions made your brain a little bit foggy. How could he know that?

“Yeah.” for the first time in history, you did not come up with any sharp answer. “How about you?”

“As long as there is no cucumber or extremely sweet cuisine,” he started to walk. “I am fine.”

You heard that Baekhyun is really not in good terms with cucumber.

“Feel you.” you murmured in your mouth because you hated cucumbers as much as you hated Baekhyun. He swiftly look at you, you accompanied him on the street.

“We should celebrate.” he teased. “I said something, you just answered, and we did not have a fight.”

“This is a privilege for cucumbers.” you shrugged your shoulder, but you also felt that he did not buy your nonchalant tone. “I cannot stand them, mum loves it too much, I mean what type of person can love a cucumber? If I need water, I prefer to drink it.”

Your observation made him tilted his head back in that rumbling laugh of his, you were unwilling to join, but the corners of your mouth turned up slightly.

“Here we go.” He, as a gentleman, opened the door for you, you responded with the most neutral expression you could muster. “Oh, no thanks?”

“Thank you.” you rolled your eyes, however, despite of your strongly negative feelings against him, you do not like rudeness. “Sorry, that was insolence of me.”

“Your apology is fully accepted.” he winked, you hated that cocky tone, you hated yourself for falling into his trap. You passed him, went to a distanced table where it placed in the corner. You did not want to be seen as having a lunch with Baekhyun by your teammates.

Corner was fine.

“Oh, no.” he grabbed your arm, manhandled you to the tables of the center. “I will not let you escape. If they see us, let them to see.”

Your eyebrows knitted, your lips pressed to each other enough to form a thick line on your face, you could almost taste your growing anger. But at the same time, you realized that feeling his hand on your skin increased your heartbeats, you wanted to scream with self-hatred, but you bite down on your tongue as his hand quickly wandered to down, to your waist. He directed you to the most visible table from outside while you were fighting yourself in order to control your fucking pace of breathing.

Please, this could not be true, I could not be excited because of his touch, you thought.

This was not happening, what the fuck was happening?

Baekhyun was not so different from you, even though his face expression was not changed for a bit. He forced himself to take control, but it was really hard for him.

Your hate was reciprocated, right? You guys could not spend even a bloody minute in peace, the only thing you had was annoyance.

So, why you perfectly fit in his embrace just like you were made just to be under his arm?

Why Baekhyun wanted to tight his arm around your waist?

Why could you not say anything even though Baekhyun was literally holding you?

Why you felt like you were in the only place where you had to be for the rest of your days?

“Hi.” you heard the waitress who was a really beautiful girl. “Welcome to Sung’s String. How can I help you?”

Even though finishing her sentence, she begun to eye Baekhyun. You rolled your eyes and reached to the menu; to be honest, this show was not funny after seeing it for the million times. Every time, Sejong Team went outside for a drink, for a gathering or even for a museum trip, girls and sometimes boys gazing the members of Sejong Team just like they were idols or actors because of their good-looking. Eh, they were not wrong, you had to say that the Sejong Team included really, really, and really handsome boys from Baekhyun to Chanyeol, from Kyungsoo to Jongdae and these boys’ superiors were Kim oh-my-godJunmyeon and Kim lord-help-us Minseok.

Well…

You were already got used to the reactions coming from all around when Sejong Team showed their faces. You knew that both of insiders and outsiders of Sejong Institute called your team members as the Flower Boys or a shitty nickname like that.

“I would like to have a jjangmyeon without cucumbers, and a tteokbokki.” you turned the menu off. “With a light coke.”

“Coke?” Baekhyun mimicked you like he could not believe his ears. “Are you kidding? Everyone knows that you have to drink jasmine tea in order to help digestion.”

“Have you been majored in nutrition?” you gave him your bitchy resting face. “Shut the fuck up.”

“No coke.” he wholly ignored you and turned to the waitress who was watching him as drooling. “Please, we want two bowls of jjangmyeon, two tteokbokki, also please we would like to have kimbap and kimchi as the garnitures and of course a pot of jasmine tea.”

“Yeah!” she sounded weaker after Baekhyun conducted all power he had in his eyes to her. “Anything else?”

“I guess we are fine for the time being.” Baekhyun smiled to her, causing a flush of redness on her cheeks.

“I will be back as soon as possible.” the girl literally purred, Baekhyun’s eyes shined after her reaction. Little bastard. You did not want to think about it, but his visible joy had your stomach churned. You inhaled and took your book out of your bag.

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun glanced up at you, reached to take the book from your hands. “Having lunch together means conversation, are you going to read?”

“Give the book to me, Byun.” you kicked his foot under the table. “I know you do not know how to read and enjoy but that’s a good habit to have.”

“Yeah, I know that habit of you gives nothing but lonely hours in library.” he had no limits of shooting his arrows. “Have you ever tried something different for a change?”

“Like what?” you tried to get back your book. “Following your great example and dedicate my life to your favourite sport? Sorry, I have no interest in running after women by lolling my tongue out of my mouth.”

“Baby girl,” Baekhyun put your book in his leather bag. “You have no idea whose tongue lolls out of the mouth.”

You could not decide on what you hated the most. Baekhyun or the girls after Baekhyun? You concluded as both of them were equally horrible in your eyes.

“I am sure your stories are incredible.” you inhaled. “But I really do not like to hear the anecdotes of miserable women. Could you give the book back before I gauge your eyes off?”

“Nope.” he grinned. “I can bet on you are still a virgin but tell me if you have an affair or not, I would like to pay my condolences to your partner.”

He was already written as the first name in your list of most-hated-people, but suddenly became the first man to be written as the first enemy of a lifetime.

“Did you finish your own list of dead partners?” you raised one eyebrow. “Thinking of its length gives me chills.”

“No dead.” his grin widened from one ear to the other. “They just had some temporary heart problems due to the performances I gave to them.”

You opened your mouth to slap his face with the words, but the waitress came back to your table with a huge tray. She was placing every bowl and plate, actually fucking Baekhyun with her eyes, you literally hardly suppressed your instincts, telling you to warn her immediately.

But you were not honest with yourself about why you wanted to warn her. In the deep of your mind, but in very deep, you had been starting to realize that you disliked when the girls threw themselves to Baekhyun because you wanted them to stop. You did not like the scene because you did not want to share Baekhyun’s gaze with another person.

You were lying to yourself without realizing what was the real problem of you.

You loved Baekhyun from the beginning, even though he was a fucking tease and a bloody smartass. There was no other man for you, if someone could cut your chest, the only thing would be seen in your heart was his name.

But that would be the heaviest self-enlightenment, and you were definitely not ready for such as a thing. That’s why you unconsciously continued to trick yourself by disguising your own feelings from your own eyes.

You got the chopsticks and decided to have your lunch instead of burying yourself in the maze of thoughts. Baekhyun realized your discomfort, but he had no idea what the real reason of your mood was, whatever made you unhappy was more than okey for him. He could be happy as long as you were sorrowful.

“You still not give an answer to the question.” he was persistent on pushing your limits. “Do you have a relationship?”

“Why are you curious?” you took a mouthful amount of jjangmyeon. How much you wanted to stuff these noodle strings into his throat, suffocating him to death. “If you want to send a bouquet, please note that I love blue roses.”

“You are really a virgin, huh?” Baekhyun diabolically grinned, you could swear on you saw the red halo over his head.

“Darling, you cannot make me angry by stating what is obvious.” you smiled back, there was no reason holding it back, you were always open on these issues, and a sick part of you wanted to tell him to see his reaction. “Yeah, I am a virgin.”

“Do you conservatively follow a church?” his chin dropped a few inches. “How could it be possible with all the boys who try to seduce you?”

Well, you did not expect to hear this.

“Come on,” Baekhyun continued. “I always see you with a bunch of men, do you really think they are following you only for friendship?”

“On the contrary of you and your limit-does-not-exist type of libido, people can build the bonds of affinity.”

“Only when they do not search for an open door to sneak in.” Baekhyun pointed his chopsticks to your face. “Telling you, I can name at least six permanent names in the waiting room.”

You did not see the hidden meaning of his words, however, Baekhyun was already became regretful, he silently prayed for your ignorance and blindness were going to keep him safe. Because he gave you the biggest clue of his interest in you by stating he could give even names.

He still did not understand how he could know everything about you or why he always put a brick on the ways of the candidates for you, but he did. Hell, he was unapologetically finding a way to prevent the boys who liked you and no one could understand it was Baekhyun. He always came up with a solution in order to intimate them, put them back off. You were not aware but Baekhyun always appeared around you when he thought a candidate was close to you more than he supposed to be.

He already put his stamina on you as his girl, but he was not aware of his own actions. He was not aware of what he has been doing, how he was persistently looking for you, searching for your face in every class or harmoniously living with your voice. It was like your breathing was singing to his ears, and he was dancing with your melody.

Baekhyun did not understand but he was yours.

“I am not sure what you think,” you sipped from jasmine tea with self-confidence. “But there is no such a fucking waiting room.”

“You are really blind.” Baekhyun chewed a rice cake, generously dipping it into the gochujang sauce. “Don’t you think Oh Seunghwan is acting like more than a friend? Or Jang Jeongbun? Jesus, even you really cannot be that much idiot.”

Baekhyun was right for the first time in history. You were nothing more than a retard because you really did not understand the behind the scenes of his words. He was unconsciously giving you the signs of his interests in you, but you were so naïve to see.

“They are my friends, Baekhyun.” you rolled your eyes back. “I know grasping the nature of different relationships is hard for you, but people can be nothing but friends. No need to add tensions or searching for hidden meanings.”

Every time you vocalized his fucking name, Baekhyun felt its impact went straight to his dick, and he hated himself for that.

You were not the type of people who could be okey with the target of teasing. You wanted to play, you wanted to be enhanced by it, sinking into the waves of the game.

And even Baekhyun did not admit it in his head, he believed you were the most attractive girl he has been known because of you always corresponded to his moves and cards.

“How about you?” you immediately played your reverse card, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “I heard that you and your gorgeous looks which made entire school swoon and fantasize about you? Are you really called as the sexiest human being on the country?”

Your voice was the strongest indicator of your disbelief, he could be the biggest moron on planet Earth, nothing more nothing less.

Also, you were aware of those comments on Baekhyun more than you wished for. You kept everything you heard about him in your head, in the safest and the most secret file of your brain, refusing to think but keeping on unconsciously think about those speculations. You found them very suspicious, but not because of Baekhyun did not deserve to be called as the sexiest human being, you found those fantasies as unlikely because of Baekhyun had not that macho man stuff people were somehow attributing to him.

You had grown so sick from all of these dreams and comments, coming from every corner of school since Baekhyun was like a star.

And now, you had him seemed quite displeased with your tease.

“Only on the country?” he raised one eyebrow. “Shit, it seems I am not doing well.”

“Baby, you are coming after Park Chanyeol.” you sighed in joy of dancing on your tiptoes. “That’s a quite achievement, when you think.”

“Chanyeol?” he sighed in annoyance; you knew that you trapped his ego in a small box. “Coming after Chanyeol?”

“Yeah.” you gave the most nonchalant look to him. “Well, I can tell that’s quite unfair since Flower Boys includes really strong names such as Kyungsoo or Junmyeon but… Poor girls, they have to be lunatic to put you after Chanyeol.”

“What do you think about these extremely distorted images of us?” Baekhyun angrily took a mouthful of jjangmyeon.

“Do you ask my list?” you crossed your hands over your chest, cooing with gleamy eyes. “I cannot believe that Byun Baekhyun, asking me, a poor peasant, for her list.”

Baekhyun’s eyes darkening, and you were not sure why your mood was changed from the pure need of mocking him to an excitement which you could not ignore. His voice was really screechy and boyish when he asked your list, and his voice giving you a different kind of pleasure. Not the pleasure of scolding him, but the delight of toying him, pushing him to the edge.

But you did not analyse your current feelings, instead, you rushed to deliver your actually-not-existent list.

“We are talking about physical features, right? But I am going to rate everyone also with their characteristics.” you smiled. “For me, the first name is Chanyeol. I mean, look at that face he has, and his body ratio is excellent, but he has a golden heart. Then, of course Kyungsoo, he is fucking handsome, therefore, he is a great guy.”

“I really pity your tastes of men.” Baekhyun’s discontent with your made-up list was palpable, and the dissatisfaction of his tone was like honey left out in the morning sun.

“The number 3 is Junmyeon as always.” you wholly ignored his comment. “No one can say anything against to Kim Junmyeon, he is the definition of aesthetic. Minseok and Jongdae shared the same number in my list, and that’s all.”

“You forgot me.” Baekhyun snorted, his voice made you lifted your head. He was so tense; you never see his jaw clenched at this expand. What’s up his ass? you silently though in your head.

“I did not.” you were cool as a cucumber. “You are not in the list.”

Till now, you guys always ate each other, digging the graves for each other, always fighting always scolding always throwing invisible daggers to each other. However, you have never ever seen those dangerous lights, dancing in the pupils of Baekhyun after your words.

It was difficult to wrap your mind around the fact that you found this Baekhyun as more attractive than his usual-self and unfortunately you already found Baekhyun very desirable. Even though you would never even let yourself to think about being intimate with him, his eyes stirred something inside of you, ignited some fires close to your lower stomach.

“I am sorry to hear that.” you also never heard this cold voice tone of Baekhyun, and you heard almost every negative version of Baekhyun’s voice which he spared only to use against you. “Let’s finish the meals, we have to be back to work.”

“Yeah.” you nod, lightly smiled. You managed to make him mad, you achieved your goal to annoy him so bad.

Why did you feel bad?

Why did you want Baekhyun to continue on the game?

Why did you feel regretful?

Why did you want to cry?

When Baekhyun’s phone started to ring, you almost completed every house in the list Junmyeon gave to you.

And you spent the last two hours in a total silence. It was eerily, Baekhyun’s lips firmly presses into each other like he sworn on not to talk again. You were not so different, but inside of your mind, something was gnawing your inner peace.

You were not happy, even you coped with the most difficult task, shutting Baekhyun’s mouth.

But you were not happy. You did not feel like you got the prize.

Instead…

You were extremely sad, and you felt like you let the trophy to slid between your fingers.

You had to feel like you hit the jackpot, but quite opposite, you were miserable.

You were especially afraid of losing Baekhyun’s attention, your own heart was aching at the way you told him off.

Still, you were lying to yourself and trying to conceal what made you afraid, you were not honest to your conscious, however despite of your efforts, you knew something was wrong with you after his transformation after you showed him the door.

You were a coward; you were not accepting the solid fact that you were in love with Byun Baekhyun and what made you afraid was nothing but losing him.

However, you were also sure on Baekhyun had a place in your head, making you shutter, had you shaking in your shoes. You could not name where to put his name, but you knew he had a place in your life.

And you were horrified by the possibility of losing the chance of hearing his voice. Even if his cocky remarks were the only words you could rip from him.

“Yeah?” Baekhyun answered to the call, for a second, you were happy to hear his voice again, but he walked towards to the last house you had to visit without waiting for you. He did not do this, even in the beginning of the day. You took a deep breath, you did not know why the heck you were really sad for his sudden coldness, godfuckingdamnit didn’t you hate and always despise each other? You mentally slapped yourself to gather yourself up, but it was pointless, you rushed to catch him.

You were aware of there was a painful squeeze in your chest, but you could not understand the reason of its presence or how you could get rid of that.

“Junmyeon told us to retreat.” Baekhyun informed you without looking at you. “After this house, we have to run back to the meeting point.”

“Okey.” you nod, hated the meek voice tone you produced but your mind was not on the case, you were questioning your own feelings and firm beliefs about Baekhyun.

Baekhyun was not better, to be honest, he was worse than you.

When you nonchalantly told him he was not in your list, he wanted to puke everything he devoured during lunch even though tteokbokki was his favourite food. He wanted to punch himself on the face when you counted the members of your fucking list, he wanted to smack his head into the table.

Chanyeol? Kyungsoo? Damnit, even Junmyeon found his way to sneak into your list, but Baekhyun was not there.

He was always sure of he would be landed in every list, but he never think that being in your fucking list was the most important for him.

Why did he care if you were not seeing him as a man or not?

This question swirling in his head had his mind shattering.

As much as he was happy to see you wiggling like a worm under the fires, he could not control his reactions against the problem. When he saw you trembling over a case, he was the first one always popped out of nowhere to fix the problem in the darkness and never let you learn that it was him. He did not let even Junmyeon to help you, putting aside Chanyeol or Kyungsoo.

Baekhyun was the one who had been saving your ass like he was your invisible rescue call.

But you did not name him in your fucking list.

It drove him into crazy. The lack of your attention. He never mean that alerting you on his helps or care for you, but at the same time, he never think that his efforts would be equal to nothing.

He hated himself as much he hated you.

While you were walking back to the meeting point, both of you were lost in your own darkest thoughts. You were carefully paying the attention in order to not to have immersed each other, however both of you wanted nothing but screaming to each other, enough to have the fiercest fight till now.

You wanted to lose yourself in Baekhyun just like he was dying to bury himself into you for his dear life. However, both of you were very good at muting the voices of your hearts and minds.

“Indy! Baekhyun!” you heard Minseok, turning to his voice. “It is going to be a blizzard; we have to find a shelter.”

“Ha?”

“The forecast was clear as fuck.” Chanyeol pointed Junmyeon who was glued to his phone. “Jun is looking for a hotel for us since we could not go back.”

“We can take the cabs?” you were puzzled, a blizzard would be bad, but it did not mean that you had to spend the night here. “I mean, we are not living in a different city.”

“Yeah, you are right.” Shinhye crossed her arms over her shoulders, trying to keep herself warm. You had to admit, although you did not feel it till now, the weather was really cold. “But the cab drivers refused to drive into the city center. They advised us to stay here.”

“How about using metro?” you asked. “It is not so hard.”

“If you want,” Junmyeon hissed at you, holding the phone over his shoulder for a second. “You can try your chance, Indy. However, we are going to spend the night here. Safe and warm.”

“He is right.” Kyungsoo smiled at you. “I prefer to be warm and dry, sorry.”

You took a look at the team, and everyone was approving Kyungsoo’s words like they were bloody zealots.

“Okey, dumbasses.” you sighed in annoyance. “But we do not have even fucking pyjamas.”

“You can always take your clothes off.” Chanyeol winked at you. “Who says you need a pair of pyjamas to sleep?”

“Shut the fuck up, Chanyeol.” a sudden blush spread over your cheekbones, Chanyeol could not help but burst into laughs.

Baekhyun was determined to ignore you, but he could not help himself.

“Yeah, number one.” he muttered between his teeth, enough to be heard only by you. “Golden heart.”

Your chin was dropped for a few inches after hearing his annoyed voice tone and vindictive comment.

Could it be the reason of his unexpected coldness?

Could he be jealous of your invalid expressions and your fake list?

No way.

He could not be.

Your heart skipped the order of beats.

“Okey,” Junmyeon interrupted your thoughts. “We are going, if we are lucky, we will be in the hotel before the bloody snow will sweep down on us.”

“Let’s go!” Shinhye grabbed your hand, dragging you beside of herself. You submissively followed her footsteps; however, your mind was distracted by Baekhyun’s last words.

Could it be?

“This is heaven.” Jongdae rubbed his tummy. “Thank you, Jun!”

“No problem.” Junmyeon smiled and looked at all of you, to be honest, after a really good and delicious dinner, everyone was knocked out over the table.

Except you and Baekhyun.

“If you want you can go to your rooms.” Junmyeon said. “Since we were fortunate to find a single room for each of us, I do not think we have to play rock-paper-scissor.”

“Ah, having a room for myself.” Minseok laughed. “I do not have to hear your snorts, Junmyeon.”

They were sharing the same flat, everyone laughed after his teasing, Junmyeon too.

“Look who is talking.” he beamed. “I am so happy that I am going to have one night without your damn showering rituals.”

“Tell us about it.” Jongdae whined. “Pleeeassse.”

While Junmyeon and Minseok had been giving details of their flatmate stories to the team, making everyone to enjoy the environment, you were deeply sink into the pool of thoughts.

What a day, you thought. And why I feel like I am desperate?

Also, Baekhyun was not enjoying the unexpected banquet, instead he was quite enough to draw attention to himself. Chanyeol was on the verge of asking what the heck was wrong with him, but Kyungsoo kicked him under the table, pointed you with his eyes. Chanyeol’s wit quickly grabbed the matter, and he devilishly grinned.

You gave a hard day to Baekhyun, and he had no intention to change a thing between you and Baekhyun.

He always believed that you were secretly liking each other, but as you were nothing but stubborn bastards, you concealed your feelings towards each other.

Chanyeol definitely had zero motive to interrupt the fight between you, if it meant you would understand your mutual feelings.

Junmyeon also sensed the tension between you and Baekhyun, but he was not the type of persons who could wait on his corner.

“Baekhyun? Baekhyun!” Junmyeon called out him, waking him up. “How was your day? Why you guys are silent as dead?”

“We completed the task.” Baekhyun answered sourly, the corner of his mouth jumping downwards faintly. “As you assigned me and her.”

Baekhyun deliberately avoided using the pronoun of us.

“And it was a hell of task.” he continued. “I am so tired.”

“Even if you are fucking tired,” Jongdae raised a rejection. “You never shut your mouth, tell us what the heck is gnawing you?”

The bloody girl who sits next to you, Baekhyun thought but he was clever enough to keep the filter between his mouth and brain as valid.

“The girl I gave a promise for this night.” he forced himself to beam. “Because of this fucking weather, I have to arrange another meeting with her.”

Your heart churned, his reply had you wanting to slap your face. Harshly.

And you thought that he could be jealous because you named Chanyeol!

You were nothing but such an idiot.

An idiot who did not know a single piece of shit but acting so superior.

You were a goddamn idiot.

Chanyeol’s eyes narrowed after hearing Baekhyun’s shitty words, Kyungsoo wanted to punch Baekhyun’s face so bad, Junmyeon’s dislike of Baekhyun was obvious but he did not say anything, just sighed in desperation.

You felt nothing but another flash of pain as someone hit your abdomen.

“Are you okey, Indy?” Jongdae leaned over to you, whispering. You shook your head positively, smiling slightly. “You did not throw yourself into even desert.”

Your love for deserts was not a secret amongst your friends as Shinhye, sharing Jongdae’s concerns, handed you a bunch of cloudy puffs, filled with lemon cream. You took one of them, although you had no appetite, you forced yourself to eat the puff in order to put your friends at ease.

He was your biggest enemy and rival, right?

Why you were so devastated, almost on the verge of being hysterical?

You were not aware of you had been hypocritical with your feelings, and you were running away from your own heart. That’s why your hands were shaking, your heart was drumming into your ribs and aching as hell.

You were not ready to face with your heart, but you were also too naïve to save yourself from the pain it caused.

“Was he really harsh on you?” Jongdae murmured, his eyes was nothing but full of worries. “I am sure you could put him in his place but still…”

“He was not.” you said. “And you know me, nothing cheers me up but kicking his ass.”

“Glad to hear that.” Jongdae inhaled but the worries did not leave his face. “So why are you so down?”

“I am really tired today.” you sighed, tucking another puff into your mouth as you mentally punched your face in order to take the fucking control of yourself. “But if I will eat enough amount of these pastries, I will be like a bomb.”

“You are already like a bomb.” Minseok joined into the chat. “You look like on the verge of exploding.”

You unwillingly laughed at his damn right assumption.

“You know what?” you sniffed. “I am dying for a good drink. Would like to join me for a soju break?”

There was no single soul who could oppose to propose of grab a drink in your team. Jongdae jumped out of his chair, Shinhye was born ready and Minseok was the strongest drunkard.

“We are heading to the bar.” Minseok happily announced. “If you guys want to join, perfect, if not, good night to all.”

You were always impressed by the eagerness of Sejong Team to jump into any opportunity for a drink. Everyone, every single soul of this team, had a strong will to consume a respectable amount of alcohol. Less than a minute, everyone gathered up and headed to the elevators in order to visit the terrace of the hotel.

You had been wondering how rich Junmyeon was, even though he was a senior in college, or which kind of relations he had under his belt.

Jesus, you could not pay your attention during the dinner, however the hotel you had been staying was nothing but a touch of luxury. You had a strong guess on the payment bill of this place, however you preferred to keep it to yourself as you knew that Junmyeon did not like talking about the wealth lies beneath his fingertips.

But the bar was intimating.

Minseok, Jongdae and Kyungsoo were having a fierce conversation about the administrative offices of Roman Empire, Shinhye were with Junmyeon as they were talking on the next project that they aimed to present for the Head of Department. Chanyeol, only God knew how the heck he found that, was playing a guitar and you, as dwelling in an extremely comfortable armchair, tucked yourself into a blanket like a sushi roll, were enjoying the sudden calmness around yourself. The dim lights, from the chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, casting mirages across the hall, showing the wooden tables scattered between the chairs and beautiful, fresh cut flowers in their elegant vases.

It is not Korean but Chinese or Japanese, you thought, however with your bad eyesight, making an observation about the porcelain and its design was impossible. Also, you were a little bit slothful at the very moment to move your butt, you wanted to indulge in the soju you were holding, not anything else.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, warm but unfamiliar, your head jerked to face the owner of touch.

Baekhyun was looking at you, however his eyes were different from his usual self. There was no intention to mock with you, his eyes were clear as the snow drops that covering the streets right now.

“May I sit?” Baekhyun asked to you, catching you off guard with an unexpected kindness. You nod, feeling a sudden increase of the level of excitement, but kept your mouth shut. “Thank you.”

Thanking you? Byun Baekhyun?

You perked up, starting to prepare yourself for the fight, despite of the considerable amount of soju flowing in your veins, you were ready to guard yourself.

His elbow brushed your forearm when he was rolling his body in order to adjust the chair next to you.

You were shocked by the reaction your body gave to the moment, the only thing he did was sitting on a fucking chair, but your cheekbones were on fire.

His hips, damn his hips your inner voice was hysterically whispering in your head.

“May I ask to which muse I owe this honour?” you searched Baekhyun’s eyes for a glint of dismissiveness, however this was the very first time you have been the target of sincere, chocolate brown and deep irises.

“I have a question for you.” Baekhyun quickly ignored your offensive joke. “Why I am not in your list?”

He may as well have tossed you inside of a volcano, kicking you into the pool of lava, the impact would be the same. Your heart prompted to your stomach, they churned together, your throat and lungs tightened so bad, enough to cut your air by yourself.

You open your mouth, but nothing come out, just a bubble.

“I do not know how to translate that.” he sneered however you were at a loss. You could expect a lot of words from Byun Baekhyun but questioning the reason of his absence in your fucking list was not one of them.

“There is—” you bite your lower lip to stop yourself, you were on the verge of confessing that there was no list, you just tried to poke his ego, but thank God, you still had a piece of sanity to hold on. “I do not understand. Why do you care my list?”

Do I look like I fucking know? Baekhyun wanted to shake your cage, he wished nothing but screaming at you with all power he had in his lungs. He had no idea why he was mad at you, but he was out of rage and the only reason was you.

“Because I am curious.” he leaned his elbows onto his knees, cocking one eyebrow to you. “And what I hate most is being ignorant to a case.”

“I know.” you spoke without thinking, your mind was delving into the current problem you had in order to find a balanced answer, so you did not realize what you exactly said.

Unfortunately for you, Byun Baekhyun did not become your biggest rival by being blind or deaf.

His lips slightly curled upwards.

But the gentleman he could be, he did not corner you for the time being.

“So?”

It did not mean he would not try to push you in order to get what he wanted.

“Is there a rule saying that every human being has to be interested in you?”

You were not aware of it, but your voice was cracking, and your breathing became heavier, quickened and there was a sheen of sweet on your forehead.

To your dismay, Byun Baekhyun did not unconsciously mark you as his girl without studying you to the bits.

“Humanity is a different topic.” he widely smiled. “I wonder about you, sweetheart.”

Your breath stuck in your lungs because of the endearment, even though you were aware of his teasing of you.

“You are not my type, Byun.” you dead serious.

“Ah, your type is Chanyeol, right?” he smirked, turning his head to the tall brunette who indulged himself into the guitar. “Should we alert him to your interest in him?”

“Goddamn, no!” you hissed at him. What kind of trouble he was aiming to knit on your head? “Do you know the definition of privacy? You are invading personal boundaries, dumbass.”

“I do not think so.” Baekhyun shrugged his shoulder. “If you like Chanyeol, Chanyeol has the right of be aware of your interest.”

“Okey, even a scoundrel like you cannot be crossing the limit of respect like this.” you moved to stand up, giving the most dangerous look to Baekhyun. “I do not have to lis-

“Hey, Chanyeol!” Baekhyun called him with a high-pitched voice. Chanyeol lifted his head, distracted by the unexpected scream of Baekhyun.

“What?”

“Nothing!” your hand immediately tugged onto Baekhyun’s knee, squeezing it tightly in order to warn him. “You are playing so good, keep going!”

Chanyeol laughed at your words.

“You do not have to scream like that, Goddamnit.”

“Tell it to your friend.” you rolled your eyes back, fuming with anger but covering your face pretty well. You turned to Baekhyun, your eyes telling him that he was in serious danger if he was not going to shut his fucking mouth up.

Baekhyun did not care your silent warning, but your hand on his knee was a real distraction for him.

“I know that he is not your type.” he murmured, watching your hand, small, pale, and soft, Baekhyun did not want to confess but he wanted to latch your fingers to his. “Is it Kyungsoo?”

“Do I interrogate your preferences of girls, damn?” you literally gritted between your teeth. “Leave it.”

“I have no intention.” Baekhyun turned to Kyungsoo, narrowing his eyes. “Let’s ask if you are Kyungsoo’s type.”

“What the fuck are you, cupid?!” you grunted, and your hands moved without your consent. You grasped Baekhyun’s jawline, your fingertips were brushing his ears. “I said, leave it.”

“If you want to shut my mouth,” Baekhyun beamed, ignoring the fact that your touch meant for a lot than he could expect, he was going to think about it later. “Tell me why I am not in your list.”

“No one can desire someone like you!” you exploded. “An arrogant, dandy, selfish boy who does not know nothing but bringing trouble to others. That’s why you can never be in my list, even I have to choose between you and an octopus. For the records, I hate octopus, but I would go for it, if it means the other option is you.”

“Oh, you hurt me.” Baekhyun’s eyes glimmered with the sparks of unnamed feelings. He leaned forward, enough you to feel his breath fanning your lips. “You know what, sweetheart? You are so aggressive only when you have a secret which have to stay only in your head.”

“W-what?”

“I am definitely in that list.” Baekhyun claimed it with confidence, but it was just the appearance. Inside him, his heart was definitely shuttering, cracking into pieces, he had no control over himself, he could not understand his sudden behaviours. “I am in your list, if there is a list.”

Your eyes widened, and pupils blown up.

“Jesus.” you snorted. “When you lost your fucking mind?”

“You are a pretty bad liar.” Baekhyun was making assumptions out of his ass in order to get a reaction from you, he was not fucking sure if he was in the list or not, but everything he said actually rang the true bells.

“And you are a lunatic.” your intense eyes pinned him down, and the frowning lips caught your attention, but you forced to came back to your senses as soon as possible. “You will never be anything more than a lunatic.”

You attempted to stand up, but he was incredibly swift to catch your wrist, pressing you back to the armchair.

“Tell me, sweetheart.” he held your wrist for his dear life, caging you and to your disappointment, coming closer to your face, causing your ability of speaking to be faded immediately.

His godfuckingdamnit lips.

“You have been having doubts on me since the day we met, your driving force is giving me hard time.” his breathing was fanning your cheekbones. "Confess now, why are you pissed at me all the time?”

“Hell, you do talk like you are so different. Aren’t you the one who always finds a way to be trouble for me?” you raised one eyebrow, letting him to realize the game was reserved for two people. “If it means liking someone, since when you have been fallen in love over heels with me?”

“You have no idea how much I want to place your heels over my shoulders.”

Your chin was dropped, his words had you turning into a mummy who was trying to register into his remarkable sentence without a single brain cell.

You had to come up with the best answer you could give. You had to find the best response to him, and it had to be a perfect balance of sharpness, cockiness, and matureness as it had to be said with the resting bitch face.

And you heard your own voice.

“Ha?”

“You heard what I said.” Baekhyun intensively gazed at you, the proximity between your bodies had your body quivering and trembling at the same time and his fucking knee slightly, almost insensibly pushed your legs apart.

“You are really nonsensical, Baekhyun.” you inhaled, doing your best in order to ignore all the jolts all over your body, numbing your mind but also setting the skin on fire. Every time you said his name, Baekhyun felt something turning in his lower stomach. “What the fuck you want from me?”

“You did not name me in your list.” You could not believe your fucking eyes, more importantly, you could not believe you were still listening his gibberish like a kindergarten kiddo. “But, I am better than everyone else here.”

His voice dropped the slightest, making you shiver.

“Would you like me to prove it to you?”

[sophieoverett]

Disruptions of Ritual and Inciting Incidents

I’ve been lucky enough to be a part of a creative development series lately which has come with a lot of great advice and guidance on storytelling, from the extremely specific to the really broad and sweeping. It’s covered everything from character motivations to specific genre structures to audience expectation to interpersonal conflict, but one of the things that has come up over and over again has been the idea of disruption of ritual as pivotal to the establishment of a story.

It’s been interesting to hear it articulated this way, because when I’ve taught creative writing in the past, and when I’ve thought about my own writing, I’ve always talked about this concept as the world we leave behind. It’s the pre-inciting incident stuff – the introductory grounding stuff – whether that be Harry’s life before Hogwarts, or the Bennet’s home before Mr. Bingley moves in next door.

You establish a world – or a ritual – and then you break it open.

It’s in the schism, in the disruption, where your story finds it’s legs and starts to move.

It’s had me thinking a lot about the relationship between the disruption of ritual and the inciting incident of a story, because in a lot of ways, that disruption of ritual directly sets up the latter. A story like Bridgerton has the disruption of ritual in Phoebe making her debut – a change for the whole family – but the inciting incident is really her collision with Simon Hastings and their mutual decision to fake a courtship. Similarly (but differently), Harry Potter has the disruption of ritual when the owls start descending on the Dursley home in the lead up to Harry’s birthday, but the true inciting incident is when Hagrid tells Harry he’s a wizard. Neither of these inciting incidents could’ve happened without the disruption to the character’s lives that got us there.

When we talk about inciting incidents, we’re ultimately talking about the point of no return for your protagonist. Where they either make a choice, or have a choice thrust upon them, it’s one they can never go back from.

How the disruption of ritual lays the groundwork for the inciting incident though is important. It’s not just creating the first bubbles of conflict to pop, but it’s a key part of establishing who your character is and what world they exist in.

But what does that look like? Generally speaking, I find it’s useful to think of this sort of pre-inciting incident (or disruption of ritual world) in three categories:

Change of Circumstance

Change of Environment

Change of Information

So let’s break that down a little!

Change of Circumstance

I think this one is probably the most common.

I’ve watched a lot of new movies lately and I think change of circumstance is at the heart of all of them – in Nomadland, Fern’s husband has passed away and she’s had to move into a caravan out of financial necessity; in The Father, Anthony’s daughter is moving to Italy and so she tells him he’s being moved into an aged care facility for his dementia; in Those Who Wish Me Dead, Hannah, a firefighter, has been benched after freezing during a fire which lead to the death of two teenage boys.

While all these changes are environmental too (which I’ll come back to in a second), they’re more punctuated by the impact these circumstances have on these characters – Fern is grieving, Anthony is losing his agency and independence, Hannah’s role in a job she loves has been diminished.

These changes to circumstance create the context for which the inciting incidents begin and ground the characters within their own emotional arcs. The inciting incident in Those Who Wish Me Dead is when Hannah finds another teenage boy in the woods who’s being chased by assassins; in The Father, the inciting incident comes when Anthony’s daughter hires a new nurse that reminds him of his other, dead daughter, in Nomadland, Fern connects with a seasonal worker at an Amazon factory who in turn connects her to the nomad lifestyle.

In this sense, the disruption of ritual starts a conversation that the inciting incident can either build off or interrupt or both. The examples above are all pretty big, but these sorts of circumstantial disruptions can be anything. They can be as simple as a promotion at work, a pregnancy, a new neighbour; or hell, you can go the other way, and get even bigger – start a war, go on the run, discover a new planet! What’s important though is that initial change of circumstance creates context for your protagonist and builds towards your inciting incident.

Change of Environment

This one is still pretty common, but I’d say it’s often used most efficiently and effectively in horror and fantasy.

Moving house or exploring new territory, whether that be campsites or cave dives or new planets or planes, is a natural way of putting your characters off-kilter and building environmental tension. This tension is really steeped in the unknown of the space your protagonist is interacting with, and in the promise of conflict within it. Movies like The Descent, Hush, Lord of the Rings and Star Wars are all fundamentally steeped in their opening acts involving drastic shifts to their environments that build conflict, whether that be because an environment becomes something to protect (Hobbiton in Lord of the Rings), or something that the protagonist needs to be protected from (The Descent), or that environment being invaded (Hush) are all factors that are essential to the story overall.

In these stories, these environments aren’t just a stage for the character to move across, they’re deeply interactive and often allegorical to the character’s circumstances.

My Neighbor Totoro is one of my favourite examples of this – Satsuki and Mei’s move to a new home whisks them into a magical world with soot spirits and forest creatures, but these spirits and creatures are an escape from the reality that they moved because their mother is sick in a hospital nearby. The environment they’ve moved to is them clinging to a child’s world as they live ever closer to their trauma.

The most important thing to think about with environmental change is to ask why? Environmental change isn’t about simply presenting a stage for your characters – all stories have that – but that that environment be a motivator in your character’s overall arc. After all, Nomadland might deeply love the American landscape, but Fern’s story is driven by circumstance, not environment, as I mentioned above.

Change of Information

Probably the least used of these three, an information disruption is often reserved for stories about whistleblowers or journalists. Spotlight, Bombshell, All the President’s Men, hell, even The Bourne Identity all rely on a transfer of knowledge as pivotal to creating the conflict that the story builds on.

Change of Information involves a character learning something that they didn’t know before, and the information could seem incidental in the first act (the journalist in Citizen Kane for instance learning that Kane’s final word was ‘rosebud’, or Adrian Toomes realizing there’s alien tech in what he’s been assigned to clean up in Spiderman: Homecoming), or it could be left as a landmine for our protagonists to discover (Spotlight did this by opening with the cops in the 1970s talking about the child molestation charge that our protagonists would start investigating in 2001), or be the overall driver for the film (Min-hyuk telling Ki-woo about the Park family in Parasite).

I think Change of Information set-ups though can also be broadened out to tie pretty closely with Change of Circumstances set-ups to the point that I actually almost considered condensing the two, but I do think they’re different enough to be untangled. Parasite of course straddles all three in its brilliance as the information Min-hyuk gives Ki-woo of the Park family creates both a change in circumstance and environment too, and Midsommar is a movie I’d consider to be all three too – knowledge changing hands is essential to that film overall, and the focus in the first act of Dani finding out that her sister’s commit suicide is pivotal to everything that follows. Her change of circumstances and environment hinges on her grieving her sister, yes, but the weight of the opening act is on the discovery of that more so than it is on Dani’s circumstances changing. Life goes on is, in many ways, pivotal to that first act.

Change of information, to me, is about a character’s awareness of something creating that initial disruption overall, and that new knowledge being the ultimate plot and character driver for the rest of the story. It’s the new knowledge or awareness that creates story mobility, environment and circumstance can just come along with it.

What are you talking about, Sophie?

Right, sorry, haha.

Disruption of ritual is ultimately the shift in the story that allows for the inciting incident to happen. It’s what creates the perfect storm of circumstance, environment and information which fuels your characters, but what you choose to prioritise and emphasise is going to impact the direction of your story and provide your readers or audience with the context that shapes their experience overall.

What drives your characters is what determines their path throughout the story you’re telling, and considering circumstances, environment, and the information they do or don’t possess is an important part of shaping that. You don’t have to pick one, of course – as I mentioned above, a lot of great stories embrace two or all three! – but thinking about each and asking yourself why and working out what’s the priority for your protagonist might just help you articulate the crux of your story and give you an opening act that resonates.