WESLEY "WES" VALE
Age: 25 Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Straight Occupation: Deputy, Hawkins Sheriff’s Department Face Claim: Glen Powell Status: Human — Echo‑unaware (but getting suspicious)
THE VIBE
Wes Vale is the definition of “small‑town golden boy with a heart too big for his own good.” He’s charming, earnest, and a little dorky in the most lovable way — the kind of guy who waves at dogs, apologizes to furniture, and still manages to be surprisingly competent when things go sideways.
He’s the older brother who:
tries to keep Rory safe
fails spectacularly
follows her into danger anyway
complains the whole time
would absolutely die for her
PERSONALITY
Wes is:
Warm and approachable, the department’s unofficial “nice guy”
Protective, but not controlling
Brave, but in that slightly foolish, “I’ll check the creepy noise” way
Funny without trying, king of accidental one‑liners
Emotionally intuitive, especially with Rory
A quiet worrier, especially since she came home
Underestimated, which makes his moments of competence hit harder
He’s the guy who brings donuts to the station and somehow gets free coffee everywhere he goes.
ECHO RELATIONSHIP
Wes isn’t Echo‑sensitive — but he’s Echo‑aware in the emotional sense.
He doesn’t see flickers. He doesn’t feel static. But he knows when Rory’s lying about being fine.
He notices:
the way her camera glitches
the way she zones out
the way she laughs too loudly when she’s scared
the way she avoids certain places
He’s the first to say, “Rory… something’s wrong. I can feel it.”
He doesn’t understand the Echoes, but he knows they’re touching her.
And he hates that he can’t protect her from it.
BACKSTORY
Wes stayed in Hawkins when Rory left. He always felt like someone had to hold the fort.
He joined the Sheriff’s Department at 23, thinking it would be a quiet job. It wasn’t.
When the “earthquake” hit, Wes was on duty. He saw things he still can’t explain — shadows that didn’t match their owners, people reporting “glitches,” radios picking up static that sounded like voices.
He chalked it up to stress.
Until Rory came home the next day.
With that strange camera. With that haunted look. With that same static clinging to her like fog.
Now he’s watching her more closely than ever.
THE VALE PARENTS
Michael Vale is the kind of father people describe as “solid” before they say anything else. A lifelong Hawkins local, he works maintenance at the quarry and carries himself like a man who’s spent his whole life fixing things with his hands because no one ever taught him how to fix anything else. He’s quiet, steady, and deeply protective in a way that sometimes reads as stubbornness. Michael loves his kids with a fierce, understated loyalty — the kind that shows up in early‑morning rides, patched‑up backpacks, and the way he always stands between them and the world when something feels off. He doesn’t understand the Echoes, but he knows danger when he sees it, and he knows Rory’s eyes have changed since she came home.
Laura Vale is softer around the edges but sharper in the ways that matter. She grew up outside Hawkins and never quite settled into the town’s smallness, carrying a quiet restlessness that Rory inherited. Laura works at the public library, where she’s known for her calm voice and the way she remembers everyone’s favorite books. She’s intuitive, emotionally perceptive, and the first to notice when something’s wrong — especially with Rory. Laura doesn’t have the language for Echoes, but she feels the shift in her daughter like a draft under a closed door. She worries constantly, loves fiercely, and holds the family together with a gentleness that borders on steel.
Together, the Vales are a study in contrasts — Michael’s grounded steadiness and Laura’s quiet intuition — and their children sit right in the middle of that tension. Wes inherited his father’s protectiveness; Rory inherited her mother’s haunted curiosity. And both parents can feel something strange creeping into their home, even if neither of them can name it yet.
DYNAMIC WITH RORY
Wes and Rory’s dynamic is one of those sibling bonds that looks simple from the outside — teasing, bickering, eye‑rolling — but underneath it is this deep, bone‑level loyalty that neither of them ever has to say out loud.
Rory is the storm; Wes is the grounding wire. She moves fast, thinks faster, and throws herself into danger with a kind of reckless curiosity that terrifies him. Wes is steady, soft‑hearted, and brave in that slightly foolish way where he’ll follow her into anything while muttering that it’s a terrible idea. He worries about her constantly, even when he’s pretending not to. Rory, for her part, acts like she doesn’t need protecting — but she always relaxes a little when Wes walks into the room.
They bicker like it’s a sport, but it’s affectionate, familiar, and rooted in knowing each other better than anyone else does. Wes calls her out when she’s spiraling; Rory calls him out when he’s underestimating himself. He’s the only one who can get her to slow down; she’s the only one who can get him to take risks.
And since she came back to Hawkins, Wes has been watching her with this quiet, growing dread — noticing the way she flinches at static, the way her eyes go distant, the way she’s carrying something she won’t name. Rory hates that he sees it, but she also leans on him more than she admits.
They’re opposites in all the right ways, bound by love, exasperation, and the unspoken promise that they’ll always drag each other out of the dark.
BIG HOOK
Last week, Wes responded to a call near the old quarry. A witness reported: “A girl flickering like a broken TV.” When Wes arrived, the clearing was empty. Except for a photograph. A photo taken with Rory’s glitch‑prone camera. A photo of Rory. Standing in that exact clearing. Looking terrified. The timestamp? Next week. Wes hasn’t shown her the photo. He doesn’t know how. He just knows one thing: Whatever’s coming for Rory, he’s not letting her face it alone.
