Patrickispinky - Patrick

October Sun

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

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

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OCTOBER SUN pt.27

"Love this for me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Question Five.

Does the Monster die?

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

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

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

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

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

But nothing happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Simon started the car and pulled into the road.

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

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

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

And what the gentlest fuck did that mean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For Ajay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

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

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

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

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

You at least had the decency to look apologetic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing?" Maddie asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, just like that, she did.

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

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

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

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

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

💀___________fin.____________

PART TWENTY-SIX - OCTOBER MOON

note: i will definitely be tinkering away here tomorrow 💀

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

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

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

To whom it may concern

First, please watch this video:

That targeting was two days ago Do you see, my friend? Were you astonished by the size of the bombing? Did we really deserve all this? That was a small part of what happened that night. Imagine the amount of these explosives falling on the bodies of innocent people, after the army asked them to leave their homes and migrate to this safe area, as it claims. If You saw that, my friends, people were burned to death, screaming, and there was no one to help them.

This explosion was only about 500 meters away from our tent. As you know, the tent is made up of some scraps and wood. Shrapnel and rubble scattered on us, and some of people’s tents were burned. I was slightly injured as a result of that, not to mention the tent’s failure.

I kindly ask you guys to help me achieve my goal and help me and my family leave this place, otherwise our fate will be like the fate of those innocent people who were killed for no reason. We need to live a better life than this. We do not have to endure all that. Please, guys, do not leave us. We die this way💔

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@myceliacrochet @shartmaster4200 @theinconvenientlifestyle

Valentine's Day Headcanons

Wally Clark x Reader

Warnings: Slight ep.5 spoiler but not really, its the brief mention of a scene but not actually what happens. fluff

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This man would go all out for valentines day… well as out as he can while trapped in the school. 

I'm talking spending hours making a bouquet of paper flowers for you. Technically he could probably get some from the greenhouse but that's not as romantic as making them himself. 

Most of your gifts will be stolen from living students on valentines day. Okay just about all of them but still he makes it seem romantic.

Movie night, huge stuffed bear, and a shit ton of chocolate. It’s a perfect night. You don’t like chocolate? Don’t worry he's got eyes everywhere watching for someone to walk in with something that you like. Technically it's just him and Charly but he makes it seem all dramatic like he’s got every ghost looking out. 

Sweet little makeout session in the greenhouse while you ask him why he didn’t just get you normal flowers. He’d shut you up with another kiss because he ain’t got time for all your questions when he's trying to get freaky.  (Ignore me i'm losing my mind after the pool scene) 

I’ve said it once and I'll say it again, cuddles cuddles CUDDLES. He doesn't care when or where he always just wants to wrap you in his arms and smother you with love. Sweet gentle kisses and whispers of praise. (SOMEBODY SEDATE ME) 

You’d force him to watch A Walk to Remember and he’d cry like a baby. “And they say romance is dead.” Said through pitiful sobs. 

He’d make you slow dance with him. I mean SLOOOOOW. Like staring into your soul with the biggest smile imaginable while you two hold onto each other and barely move. More sweet kisses and gentle words as he rocks you back and forth. 

(Okay thats all. I swear I'm working on Sex, Drugs, Etc. I just needed a break from all the sadness. Anyways imma go convince my friend to be my valentine because he has no free will in our friendship. Hope you enjoy my descent into madness. 😀)

Have y'all seen the new school spirits trailer? New wally content!!!! I feel like we're gonna get some flashbacks of his death and actually see what happened. Maybe this will be right before he moves on like how Dawn had to think back to how she died before she moved on. I can't wait!!!

No spoilers but I'm in shock. Like actually I don't know what to say. Also WALLY?!?!?! Huh? what the fuck. Okay yeah imma go curl up in a corner and cry cus we have to wait for a new season 😭

I just watch freaky tales and ummm...

JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK

Okay thats all, thanks for listening.

October Moon

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

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ajay cackled.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

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

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

Limon was gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Had they ever been?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

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

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

He was worried.

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are you sorry?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because Simon needs to make a call."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled back, "You forgot passionflower."

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

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

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

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

💀___________________________

PART SIX - PART EIGHT

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

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

it went around the part of Georgia I live in I'm fine guys

A tornados supposed to be hitting Georgia 😭 pray for me bro

Period Comfort Headcanons

Alive!Wally Clark x Alive!Reader (Modern AU)

Warings: Not much just basic period stuff and a lot of fluff.

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This sweet sweet boy would probably be confused on what to do. He's not completely lost, he knows the basics like pads, tampons, mood swings, cramps, and cravings but that's where his knowledge ends. 

I feel like he's the type to freak out. Like genuine visible terrier when you tell him. Would cry if you told him how a period actually works. “Your fucking uterine lining sheds?!” Said as tears build in his eyes. 

For the love of everything do NOT send this man to the store to get you menstrual products. He will call you 50 million times to make sure he gets the right thing and will still come home with the complete opposite of what you asked for. It’s not his fault he's not used to this stuff. 

He’d also call his mom for help. She’d be the one to tell him about pain killers and heating pads. She’d make you boiling hot soup or hot cocoa to help with the pain. 

Snack galore. Will 100% go out at 3 in the morning to buy you a McFlurry. He hates seeing you in pain so if he can do anything to help he will and if that means sacrificing his sleep he doesn't care. 

Cuddles cuddles CUDDLES. This man is a living (just pretend) breathing furnace. Forget a heating pad, just have him lay on top of you. He’d keep his hand on your abdomen at all times.

He’d make you a little basket filled with snacks and products. (Once he finally learns what you use) He’d even write you a little card that says ‘I’m sorry your body’s torturing you.’ 

Would wear matching pjs and do skin care with you while you two watch a movie. He’d do this regardless of if you're on your period or not but especially when you're on your period. 

I know for a fact this man doesn't know how to cook but he’d try for you. When he inevitably burns the food he just buys take out. It’s the thought that counts. 

All in all he's trying and once he figures it out he's amazing. Just be patient with him because he’d feel so bad for you. 

(Okay thats all, sorry if it's shit. I was gonna do valentine day headcanons but according to my app i start my period tomorrow and need to cope 🥲)