When Kristi Epling was dating Dan Lab whom was the guy that punched Eric in the face during science, Eric and Kristi send notes back and forth and had a conversation about him. There was never an explanation on why he did.

Transcript of the note between Eric & Kristi Epling

Kristi: ..did I make your hit list yet?

Eric: nope, yer on my “semper fi” list, but (Redacted) still is in the top 5, along with this asshole named (Redacted) or (Redacted) or something.

Kristi: That’s fine, he knows that. He wants off, or rather, he doesn’t want to die anytime soon.

Eric: He will always be under the gun and in the sights since he hit me in the face, even though it didn’t hurt at all. Until I get to hit him back I will always be pissed at him and his dick head friend too. If they want “off” then tell them to show some fuckin’ respect to their elders(me and Dylan) and never make another smart ass remark about (illegible) to us. 

Kristi: If you’re going to be pissed at me for being with (Redacted), then that is your thing, but I think that it’s stupid. I’m still the same person, I didn’t change just because I’m with him, but you are going to do what you will. 

Eric: Exactly. But I didn’t think you would go out with someone like him. But oh fuckin well es ist mir scheiss egal. Does he still want me to be nice to him? 

Kristi: I’m sorry I let you down, but I’m happy (illegible) for now, he never wanted you to be nice to him, he just didn’t want you to kill him(he’s definitely scared of you) 

Eric: Well if he will let me punch him in face,His friend is another story though. I’ll kill him…

ok but imagine the wizarding world combined with the aesthetics of the roaring twenties

witches with glittering flapper dresses made with dragon scales

alcohol and illicit potions changing hands in dimly lit speakeasies, parties that went on all night under lights that flickered and changed colors

jazz clubs with instruments that played themselves and elevators with rows and rows of buttons that seemed to take you everywhere but your destination

wizarding radio selling gleaming new self-stirring cauldrons and disposable dishwashing balls and coffee pitchers that poured themselves, there should be one in every house

young witches and wizards smoking cigarettes out their windows. blowing multi-colored smoke rings that blossomed into shapes before drifting away

decadence and indulgence and the peak of american consumerism combined with limitless ability, the thrilling mixed with the impossible and the alluring

He’s not the sort of person you’d want you daughter to end up with in a non-apocalyptic way, but in an apocalyptic way he’s exactly the kind of person you’d want your daughter to end up with.
—  My mother, on Daryl Dixon.