Wally Clark - Blog Posts
Wally: *Screams*
Rhonda: *Screams louder to establish dominance*
Charley: Should we do something?
Maddie: No, I want to see who wins.
Maddie: Why are Charley and Yuri sitting with their backs to each other?
Wally: They had a fight.
Maddie: Then why are they holding hands?
Wally: They get sad when they fight.
Wally: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?
Rhonda: I'm a knife.
Quinn, from across the room: They're the little spoon.
I’m also curious as to what happened to the other kid that caused it. Like was he charged with manslaughter or was he let off scot-free because it was obviously an accident? I’m always so curious about the fallout after the ghosts died ugh
so like… how long do you think it took for someone to realize wally was dead
This is still giving everything and I NEED MOREEEE GOD ITS SO GOOD
⁂ school spirits characters on twitter ⁂
Jealousy Looks Good on You
Notes: mentions of smoking! mentions of jealousy! drinking!
You weren’t expecting Wally to be here.
Then again, maybe you should have.
The party was already in full swing by the time you arrived, music thumping through the walls, the smell of cheap beer and too many different colognes thick in the air. People packed into every corner of the house, red cups in hand, laughing, shouting over the music.
You’d barely made it through the front door when you felt it—that prickling sensation creeping up your spine, like you were being watched.
And then, there he was.
Wally Clark, leaning against the wall near the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, an unreadable expression on his face. His usual smirk was nowhere to be found. Instead, his dark eyes tracked your every move.
Your stomach flipped.
Your date—Ryan, sweet, safe, boring Ryan—didn’t seem to notice the sudden shift in atmosphere. He laced his fingers through yours, tugging you further inside. “Come on,” he grinned. “Let’s grab a drink.”
You hesitated, but nodded.
Wally didn’t look away.
Fifteen minutes later, you were perched on the arm of the couch, laughing at some story Ryan was telling. Or at least, pretending to laugh.
Because you could still feel him.
Every time you glanced up, Wally was there—lingering near the kitchen, posted up against the back wall, watching.
Your stomach twisted.
He was never this quiet at parties. Never this still.
Ryan’s hand landed on your knee, snapping you back to the conversation. “So,” he said, giving you a playful smirk, “why’d you finally say yes to going out with me?”
You forced a smile. “Figured I’d give you a chance,” you teased.
Before he could respond, a shadow fell over the couch.
Your heart stopped.
You didn’t even have to look up. You knew.
“Didn’t think you were coming tonight, sweetheart,” Wally drawled, his voice smooth, laced with something dangerous.
Ryan blinked. “Sweetheart?”
You knew Wally was trying to get a rise out of you. You knew he was doing this on purpose. And yet, your skin burned under his stare.
“You didn’t tell me you’d be here,” Wally continued, tilting his head, a slow, smug smile finally curling on his lips.
You clenched your jaw. “Didn’t think I had to.”
Wally chuckled, low and slow. “Right. Of course.” His gaze dropped, sweeping over you, pausing on the way Ryan’s hand still rested on your knee.
And just like that, his smirk vanished.
Ryan cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. “Uh, do we—do we have a problem, or…?”
Wally finally looked at him. “Nah,” he said, too easily. “No problem.”
Ryan nodded, obviously unsure. “Cool, cool.” He turned back to you. “So, you were saying—”
Wally moved.
Not much. Not even close enough to touch you. But just enough to make his presence undeniable.
Just enough to make Ryan notice.
Just enough to make you hold your breath.
Your fingers curled into fists. “Wally.”
His eyes flicked to yours, dark and unreadable. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
Ryan sat up straighter. “Okay, man, seriously. What’s going on here?”
Wally smiled, but it was sharp, predatory. “Nothing. Just making sure my good friend here is enjoying herself.”
You wanted to strangle him.
Ryan exhaled. “Right. Well, we were.”
Wally hummed. “Yeah?” He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You havin’ fun, sweetheart?”
Your stomach flipped.
Ryan frowned. “Dude, do you mind?”
Wally looked at him, slow and deliberate. Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached out—fingers just barely grazing your wrist before you yanked it away.
Ryan noticed.
He wasn’t stupid.
His mouth parted slightly, realization dawning. “Oh,” he muttered. “Oh.”
You could feel Wally’s smirk without even looking.
Heat rushed to your face. “Wally. Go away.”
Wally exhaled through his nose, finally—finally—stepping back. “Sure thing, sweetheart.” He flashed a grin, turning toward Ryan. “Good luck, man.”
And just like that, he walked off.
Ryan let out a breath. “Okay,” he said slowly, looking at you. “What the hell was that?”
You rubbed a hand over your face. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
You found Wally outside, leaning against his truck, flicking a cigarette between his fingers.
“You are such an asshole,” you snapped.
He barely glanced up. “Nice to see you too, sweetheart.”
You stomped over. “You just embarrassed me in front of my date!”
Wally smirked. “Date?”
Your face burned. “Yes! My date!”
He hummed, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. “Looked more like a charity case to me.”
Your jaw dropped. “Are you serious right now?”
He shrugged, exhaling smoke. “I mean, come on, sweetheart. We both know you weren’t into him.”
You clenched your fists. “You don’t get to decide that.”
Wally chuckled, shaking his head. “Please. If you actually liked him, you wouldn’t have let me get under your skin so easy.”
Your stomach twisted.
Because he was right.
And you hated that he was right.
“You’re jealous,” you accused, crossing your arms.
Wally tilted his head, his smirk sharpening. “Yeah,” he admitted, voice lower now. “I am.”
You weren’t expecting that.
He stepped closer, flicking his cigarette away. “Hated watchin’ you sit with that guy,” he murmured, eyes flicking over your face. “Hated him thinking he had a chance with you.”
Your heart pounded.
“Wally—”
“You wanna know why?” he interrupted, voice quiet.
You swallowed. “No.”
He ignored you.
“Because that should’ve been me sitting next to you.”
Your breath caught.
Wally’s hands slid into his pockets, his expression unreadable. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he said softly.
You opened your mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because you couldn’t.
And he knew it.
Wally exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
And then, before you could even process what just happened, he turned—walking away, leaving you standing there, heart in your throat, knowing nothing between you would ever be the same.
pas de deux
to the anon that requested this, i know this isn't exactly what you asked for, but inspiration struck. i hope you like it.
cw: wally certified yearner and loverboy, me not knowing how to describe dancing, allusions to reader being murdered in a very traumatic way by her dance partner but no specifics, sfw
wc: 3k
Wally knows that what he’s attempting to do is misguided at best, and probably disastrous at worst.
The idea came to him a few weeks ago. He’d been sitting with Charley and Rhonda, shooting the shit in the gymnasium before their meeting with Mr. Martin, when he’d asked, “Is it possible to break a ghost out of their loop?”
To Charley’s credit, he’d attempted to take the question seriously. Rhonda had just rolled her eyes, removing the ever present lollipop from her mouth before interrupting.
“Again with this? Come on, loverboy. Not gonna happen.”
Charley sighed, tutting at Rhonda before turning back to Wally, a sympathetic look on his face, “There’s always a chance it could work, but if you’re talking about who we think you’re talking about, I’d say they’re pretty slim.”
“More than slim, I’d say,” Rhonda butts in again, “I’m surprised she hasn’t worn a hole through the floor, with the way she dances. Like a ballerina in a music box.” She spins her lollipop through the air, follows it with her eyes before shoving it back into her mouth.
“Have I ever told you your attitude is annoying?” Wally asked, sinking back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, ignoring the scoff from Rhonda’s direction, “I’m just saying. We’ve never even tried. What if she’s like, aware in there, like in her mind.” He reaches up to run a hand through his hair - a nervous tick he hadn’t lost, even in death.
“Does it matter? She’s still stuck here like the rest of us. Better to spend eternity dancing than dealing with the banalities of high school.”
Mr. Martin walked in then, effectively ending the conversation. Through the whole meeting, Wally couldn’t stop thinking about it. He’d seen you in the auditorium before, looping over and over, stuck in an endless dance for two but lacking a partner. It’s a rare thing for a ghost to act the way you do - there haven’t really been any other deaths at the school that were traumatic enough to warrant a loop like yours, and he’d been determined to break you out of it. Screw Rhonda, he’d thought. He could do it, he just needed to figure out how.
The problem was, Wally knew nothing about dancing. He's not the smartest guy. He knows that, but he’d been brainstorming different ways to break you out of your loop for a while now, with nothing to show for it. It’d been grating heavily on his nerves.
In a moment he’d regrettably look back on, he’d gone so far as to join you on stage to attempt a fake out. When he’d lunged at you, and you hadn’t even blinked in his direction, he started to think Rhonda was right. You couldn’t see him, you couldn’t hear him. You were stuck up there, doomed to spin around the stage for God knows how long and there was nothing he could do about it.
Then one day, something really fucking weird had happened.
—
He’d taken to sitting in the audience, to watch you dance. It was weird, more than a little morbid and slightly obsessive, but watching you move was captivating to him.
He found some similarities between dancing and playing football - the finesse needed to dodge and weave through people trying to tackle him was one thing - but he’d never seen anyone move the way you do. Every move you made had purpose. The lines created by your arms and legs, the softness with which you carried yourself from one end of the stage to the other.
Preoccupied with the pressures his mom applied to him, the weight of the world on his shoulders, he’d never taken an interest in dancing, other than the awkward slow side to side swaying he’d done with his Junior year girlfriend at the prom. Now, he wishes he could dance with you - wishes you could teach him to move like you do.
You’re stuck there, like a spinning top that refuses to fall - unable to fall. Except, as he was watching you, something unthinkable happened.
You were looking at him. Like, looking straight at him.
It took him more than a few seconds to realize what was happening, and even then he couldn’t believe it. Charley had talked to him about dancers having a spot to look at when they’re spinning - how it keeps them from falling over, keeps them from becoming dizzy and messing up. Was it possible Wally just happened to be in the seat you used as a spot?
He couldn’t tell if there was recognition in your eyes, if you were really looking at him or seeing right through him, the way a living person would. But your gaze was fixated on him either way. And your face, it… you just looked so sad. If he didn’t know better, Wally would’ve thought your expression was pleading, looking for help. It only lasted a few seconds, before you turned your head in a different direction and your body followed. It sent him reeling.
He found Charley and Rhonda in the library, and told them what happened. Charley sat up in his chair, struggling to understand what he meant.
“What do you mean she looked at you?”
Wally went to explain it to them again, hoping they’d believe this was out of the norm, “I mean she looked at me, dude. She was up there spinning like she always is, and I was just sitting there watching -”
“You were watching her? Voyeurism doesn’t suit you, loverboy.” Rhonda’s arms were crossed over her chest, legs folded over each other - closed off, like she always is.
“It’s not like that and you know it,” Wally sighed, exasperated, “It was weird. At first I thought she was using me to spot, while she was twirling, but the way her face looked? I don’t know, dude. It was just weird.”
“There’s a chance she was looking at you, don’t you think? We don’t really know how looping works, so,” Charley’s endless kindness is a relief to Wally - especially when he says things like, “I think it’s good, what you’re doing. I wish we could help more.” Charley looks over in Rhonda’s direction, nudging her to say something to Wally.
“Yeah. As much as I give you flack for it, your whole -” Rhonda waves a hand in Wally’s general direction, “boy savior thing, I do wish there was something we could do for her. It sucks. Not having a partner to dance with.” There was a glint of remorse in Rhonda’s eye, more than Wally ever thought he’d see from her.
A spark lights up in Wally’s head, a hidden spotlight finding its mark onstage - landing on you, your flawless form.
“Do you think if I dance with her, that it could break the loop?” Wally asks, looking back and forth between his two friends.
“It’s definitely worth a shot,” Charley shrugs, gaze turning to his left, “Rhonda? What do you think?”
The beatnik pauses for a second, long enough for them to see the cogs turning in her brain.
“Look, I’m not saying it’ll work. Probably won’t. But maybe,” Wally starts to smile, “Just maybe, if you try to connect with her on her terms, instead of trying to force some logic onto the situation, something might change.”
“I don’t know how to dance, though. I don’t even know where to start.” Wally drops his head in his hands, shoulders hunched over. Charley reaches over, splays a hand on Wally’s back and rubs back and forth.
“Think of it like football maybe? You’ve got your plays, right?” Wally nods, sitting up and urging Charley to continue, “Those are like the steps. Formations could be the positions you take, and in dancing, timing is everything. The same way it is in football, at least from what I’ve gathered of the rants you go on. Rhonda’s right. Maybe if you learn how she moves, you can try communicating with her that way.”
Wally sits up, throwing his arms around his two friends, ignoring Rhonda attempting to push him away before jumping up from his spot on the couch. He nearly trips over himself to sprint out of the room and down the hall, towards the auditorium, shouting “Thank you!” behind him.
—
Wally stood in the echoing auditorium, the stage lights illuminating the otherwise dark room. Every day for the past week, he’d come to you - trying to decipher a language he did not speak. He watched you, trapped in your endless pas de deux. Gliding through the same steps, turns, your desperate yearning clear up close.
At first, he’d just tried to mimic you. Clumsy and tripping over his own feet, he’d stumbled through the basic positions, frustrated with himself. His movements were jerky and awkward, a stark contrast to your effortless grace. He felt silly - like a hulking figure trying to copy something delicate and precise, something that took years and years of training.
Slowly, things started to shift. He stopped just watching and copying, instead starting to feel the music that wasn’t there. He began to understand the reasoning behind your movements, the emotions they expressed. He started to see the gaps in your performance, the place where someone was supposed to fit, to complete the cycle you’d been stuck in.
He started to see the places where he could fit.
He wasn’t just mirroring anymore, he was learning the language. Each day he got a little closer, a little less clumsy, a little more in tune with the phantom rhythm that filled the empty auditorium. He was still a football player, and he always would be, but he was learning to use some of that training to become a dancer, too. For you.
Wally knew this might not even work. He’d been in his head about it for a week at this point, and not even Charley or Rhonda could break him out of the loop he’d pulled himself into. He stopped going to the life support meetings in the gymnasium, much to Mr. Martin’s dismay - instead going to spend all of his free time right there next to you onstage.
He put more effort into practicing for this than he ever did for one of his football games, a feeling of true purpose guiding his every movement.
When the day finally came, Wally felt calm. He felt ready.
He walked onto the stage, ready to put his rehearsing to the test. Ready to run the play, to score the winning point. You began your routine, perfect and meticulous and haunting as ever. This time, though, Wally didn’t just watch. He joined you.
He didn’t try to lead, didn’t try to impose himself or change your dance, he simply became your partner. He matched your movements as best as he could, trying to feel his way through the dance. Trying not to be too robotic, but instead trying to move with the same empathy and yearning that he’d watched you dance with over and over.
As you reached the point in your dance where your partner should have joined, Wally was there. He wasn’t a perfect dancer, not by any metric, but he was present. He was the missing piece.
As your movements intertwined, a visible shift occurred. You, you who had been trapped in this endless cycle of longing, suddenly seemed to notice him. Your eyes, usually fixated on some distant point, flickered - focusing on Wally for the first time. Genuinely seeing him. Your eyes filled with tears, and as one of them dropped onto your cheek, Wally went to wipe it away.
The music, which up until this point had only been an idea in Wally’s head, suddenly seemed to fill the auditorium, bouncing off of the walls and echoing around the two of you. Your dance became a true pas de deux, a conversation of movement and emotion.
As the music started to slow, Wally found himself on unsure footing. He hadn’t stopped to think before about how the dance was supposed to end, but it didn’t matter. Grasping his hands in your own, taking the lead and guiding him through the end, the two of you moved in perfect harmony. Spectral echoes of each other, gazes connected and satisfaction blooming.
The yearning in your movements softened, replaced by a sense of completion. The music faded, leaving the two of you in silence. For half a second, Wally thought you’d cross over, leaving him onstage by himself. Instead, you turned to him, a small smile gracing your lips. You didn’t fade. You were still there - as solid as he was.
“Thank you,” you whispered, “You helped me finish.”
Wally stood stock still, surprise still echoed on his features. He couldn’t believe he’d actually done it. You looked around the empty auditorium, eyes tracking over the seats before landing on him again, “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to finish that dance.”
“I’m glad I could help you,” Wally stutters out, a pink flush on his face, “I know I’m not the best dancer.” You laugh, a sweet, girlish thing. In the five minutes that had passed since the dance finished, Wally swore he could see the weight being lifted from your chest.
“You were perfect.” A flicker of sadness crossed your face, quickly replaced by gentle acceptance, “I… I don’t think I’m going anywhere, I’m still here, but…” you emphasized, palms open and gesturing to the stage around you, “but, I think it’s different now. I’m not stuck anymore.”
“That’s good!” Wally’s face lit up, empathetic and gleeful.
Your own smile brightened, affected by his sheer amount of happiness for you. You took his hand, solid and steady in yours.
“What do I do now?” you asked, eyebrows turned up and inward, “Do ghosts sleep? I feel like I need to sleep for a month.”
Wally giggled, leading you down the side stage steps and down the rows of seats, out of the auditorium, “We don’t need to sleep, but you can if you want to. You want me to show you my hiding space?” You nod, following him down the hallway.
When he passes the teacher’s lounge, and Charley and Rhonda see whose hand he has grasped in his, he winks at their shocked expressions before continuing down the stretch of linoleum and lockers.
—
Life - or, afterlife, you suppose - has been weird since Wally broke you out of your loop. The first couple of days were extremely rough, spent trying to understand just how long you’d been up on that stage. A new member of Mr. Martin’s life support group, everyone has been extremely welcoming to you.
Because ghosts don’t need to sleep, you haven't experienced any nightmares, something you’re exceedingly grateful for. Even so, you wake up from your naps feeling uneasy. Flashes of the end of your life playing in your mind, reminding you of the circumstances surrounding your death.
You’re not ready to talk to the group about it, but Wally hasn’t left your side since he’d woken you from your reverie. You tell him about it in bits and pieces - about your dance partner, a shy, kind boy, turned cold blooded killer. The specifics of it don’t matter anyways. He can’t hurt you anymore, and according to the computers in the library, he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore - following you into that good night soon after the police had taken him away.
You learn that your family moved out of Wisconsin a decade ago, in an attempt to escape the media following them around and shouting questions at them, about a court case that didn’t happen because there was nobody to put on trial. You hope wherever they were, that they found some semblance of peace.
Wally has been an incredible influence on you, and after settling into what the rest of your eternity might look like, you’ve had the same effect on him. He didn’t expect you to dance again any time soon, if ever, but he’d catch you by yourself sometimes - stretching your legs, sitting on the floor with your arms poised in that certain way.
Then, after a year spent together going to meetings and finding hidden corners in the school to make out like true teenagers, he’d found you in Split River High’s newly minted dance room - sock covered feet gliding over the lacquered floor, hope and joy baked into your movements instead of the grief and melancholy he’d become so accustomed to in your previous routine.
Out of the corner of your eye, when you’d seen him peeking through the window, you’d beckoned him in to join you. You started to truly teach him how to dance - guiding him through Pliés and Relevés and giggling at him when his lanky legs got in his own way.
“You’d be better at this if you were shorter, I think,” you’d said, a smile unable to hide taking over your face, “but you look pretty good.”
“Pretty good? These legs saved you, babe,” Wally scoffed, wiggling his toes to get you to laugh. He always succeeded in that.
“You’re right, you’re right,” you walked over to stand nearer to him, eyes angled upward to meet his honey brown ones, “the prince to my sleeping beauty, how could I forget?”
“Damn straight, I’m your prince,” Wally’s warm hands grasped your cheeks, his mouth lowering to meet yours for a few seconds before gently shoving you away, “now show me how to do that thing again? I think I’m finally getting it.”
—
Rhonda would never admit it, but she’d been especially proud of the effort Wally had put in to drag you from your loop. She knows everyone thinks she’s cold hearted, and she agrees to a certain extent, but she’d known the agony Wally felt when he thought he couldn’t help you. She’d never tell anyone this, either, but she’d snuck into the auditorium the night that he’d broken your loop - woken you up from your neverending nightmare. She’d stood alone, in the back and out of view, a smile etched on her features.
“You go, loverboy.”
a/n: tysm for this request! this was honestly the most fun i've ever had writing something. the inspiration was crazy and even though i know nothing about dancing i hope this is readable and easy to follow because i'm immensely proud of it. anon if you liked it pls lmk! I'm having such a fun time writing for wally so PLS send in any requests you have!!!
also, don't forget to like and reblog!
ayeee ik that cookie good
Marshmallow Miles
summary: prompt fill. Wally needs to get the hell out of Split River. thankfully, he finds the perfect excuse and takes you along for the ride. (request)
pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader
warnings: smut lite. fluff. AU - everybody is alive (zesty). lore established offscreen. same 'verse as Cuddle Bug.
bon reading, frens
___________________________🧁
Marshmallow Miles
Wally spent the last 40 years haunting the high school. Then spent the last few months within the town limits, adjusting to being a regular student while he got his second chance at life organized. Principal Hartman, Ms. Chung, and Mrs. Moretz—the guidance counselor—banded together to help the formerly-dead reacclimate, and part of that means they all need to graduate.
Except, obviously, Mr. Martin, who Sheriff Baxter's keeping a tight leash on. Or Janet, wherever the hell she is.
Point being, Wally and his friends are still tethered to the place they hate most in the world. Even if there is a light at the end of the tunnel this time, they don't get to enjoy it until they walk across the stage, diplomas in hand.
Which means Wally? Is feeling somewhat-very claustrophobic. Skin too tight, walls closing in, suffocated and nauseous at the thought of having to spend another goddamn second in the town that killed him.
It's as he's listening to you, hanging onto your every word like psalms, that the idea strikes. Light. Bulb. Wausau? Claire's stepdad's ski lodge? You don't say!
He knows your birthday's coming up (Simon made sure to stick post-it notes in every single one of Wally's text- and notebooks to remind him) and he's been fretting over what to do for weeks. But this? This is it! Not only will Wally be able to celebrate you the way you deserve, doing something you seem genuinely keen on, he'll be able to put Split River in the rearview for a whole week.
Is it a little selfish to use your birthday as an excuse to escape? Kind of, sort of, maybe. But he's desperate to find out if he can have a life beyond this. Beyond Split River High and Number 57 and tragedy and discombobulating rise-agains. And the only person he wants to find anything out with, well, is you.
It's two-birds-one-stone, honestly, and don't you always praise his efficiency? Hell yeah, you do. His biggest fan. Besides, he will dote on you, treat you right, make you feel like the center of the universe because you are. At least, you're the center of his, and that's why he has to do this. To prove there's a future with him that has more potential than cultivating small town syndrome.
You catch him grinning that dopey little grin he gets when he's thinking about surprising you, but Maddie distracts you before you can question it. Which gives Wally the rest of lunch to plot into his tater tots.
Thank you, Maddie. Best wingwoman ever.
‗•‗
The plan comes together seamlessly. Everyone pitches in to help bring Wally's vision to life. Claire gives him the keys to her stepdad's lodge. Maddie and Charley morally support Wally as he shops for warm clothes in your size that he can smuggle in his own luggage so you stay in the dark for as long as possible.
Nicole and Rhonda, the unlikeliest of best buds, drag him into The Body Shop and Victoria's Secret—"imagine a romantic bubble bath after skiing all day?" Nicole coos. "Imagine undressing her on a bearskin rug in front of a fire." Rhonda smirks around her new vape.
That's. Really. All the convincing Wally needs to make a dent in the allowance Rodney gives him.
Wally even swallows his pride, puts on his most charming smile, and asks Xavier for his truck. He knows the only reason Xavier agrees is because it's for you, but still, a win is a win. With a general, "hurt her and I'll rip your balls off," from your platonic soulmate, Wally joyfully departs. Tosses the keys in the air and catches them, his chest feeling lighter than it has in decades.
Everything is packed in the truck and ready to go the night before. He called you earlier to impart the vaguest of instructions as to what you should bring, proud of himself for not giving anything away too soon. Even when you asked in that silly-sweet voice, pouting on the screen like a princess, "Please? At least give me a hint!"
No. No hints.
Like a child on Christmas, Wally can barely sleep, he's so excited, but he manages a few hours. Dreams of the world beyond Split River as if he's setting off on some grand adventure and not just driving a 3.5 hour span of state highway.
Tomorrow, Wally will experience a first. Something that was so far out of reach there was no point entertaining it because all it led to was disappointment and regret. Instead there were years upon years of distractions. Mock Trials and obituaries and looking at his feet when he should've looked back.
Wally sometimes wonders if those missed opportunities weren't the yellow brick road that brought him to you. Everyone else walked through The Door with him, but there's no sign of Dawn who crossed over. If Mr. Martin didn't do what he did, Wally might've moved on, and you and he wouldn't exist...
His heart lurches in his chest.
No sense ruminating. You have him. He has you. That's all that matters now. And tomorrow, Wally will have his first real taste of freedom with the only person he wants to share that moment with.
It's going to be perfect.
‗•‗
Wally picks you up just after sunrise. You're grumpy and sleepwarm and, Jesus, Wally loves you. Pouting at him like he's both a menace and your savior. Arms up, lower lip jutted out, a sweet demand of carry me before you slump into his embrace and force him to take your weight. Which he does, easily, big grin on his face as he toddler-carries you to the passenger side of Xavier's truck.
He bundles you in, sets you up with the softest blanket Claire found at Target—Yuri and Ajay not doing their jobs as devil's advocate at all as the cart filled up with Claire's suggestions. Honestly, Wally doesn't care. Especially not after your eyes brighten as you run your fingers over it, wiggling happily in your seat.
"You cozy, babygirl?" He asks as soon as he's behind the wheel and the smile you give him makes him fucking melt.
"You got me a blanket." You state, tucking yourself in more securely; shoes off, feet up, elbow on the console so you can lean over it and kiss Wally's cheek. "Thank you."
Wally blushes, he can't help it, and shrugs as if it's nothing. "I got you a bunch of things, baby," he says as he starts the truck, "Just wait and see. You're gonna feel like a princess, I promise."
You slip your hand into his, fingers laced, and he rests them on your thigh as he drives. Down the street, turn left, continue to the intersection of Main and 4th. Right on 4th, all the way to the end and then left on Pine. Drive until the highway onramp. Now Leaving Split River, We'll Miss You!
Oh God... Wally's heart pounds, blood rushing in his ears. This feels bigger than his first step off school property. Bigger than feeling air in his lungs and a drum in his chest after being hollow for so long.
Somehow, and Wally doesn't know how, you manage to talk him through pulling over, crawling over the console to plant yourself in his lap. Hands cradling his jaw, you press your forehead against his and guide him away from the edge of a panic attack.
"—got you, Wally, I'm right here, you're okay, shh, you're okay..." The steady cadence of your voice sharpens as his breathing regulates. He's holding you like a lifeline, arms fastened around your waist, heaving great gulps of air as he trembles slightly.
"I'm sorry, baby," He gasps and squeezes his eyes shut.
"Nuh-uh, no apologies, Wally Clark," You say firmly. There's a lull before you chuckle, gentle and kind, "Hey, this was a lot better than the night you first stepped across the school boundary line, right?"
Fuck, that was a mess. However, Wally wasn't alone when that happened. Charley and Rhonda and Yuri, Mr. Martin and Ajay, Mina, they were all there too, equally as overwhelmed. Rhonda threw up on Quinn's shoes. Charley passed all the way out. Yuri and Ajay were fine, fuck them, but Mina just...screamed. And then laughed. Then cried. Then screamed some more, listening to the sound ricochet off the surrounding buildings in a way it wouldn't have days before The Door.
Wally snorts, "Yeah. Sure," and finally peeks up at you. Your thumbs stroke his cheeks that he realizes belatedly feel damp. Is he crying? Weak. But you aren't judging him, simply gazing at him like he hung the moon; you're perfect person, the man you love most, and Wally's chest swells. "We're out of Split River," Wally croaks.
You beam at him, "We're out of Split River."
Holy fuck. He's out of Split River.
‗•‗
After climbing out of the truck to holler into the ether. To chase each other around the Now Leaving sign. To grab you, spin you around and fall into the grass as you and he laugh and laugh and laugh, Wally finally gets the show back on the road.
Once again, he tucks you into your seat, takes your hand, checks his mirrors and then pulls back onto the highway, the town that raised him then witnessed his death becoming a speck in the background with every mile marker you and he pass.
He lifts your hand, grazes a kiss to your knuckles, his eyes on the road and his mind on you and everything he has planned for this trip. At the halfway point, he stops for gas, shadows you as you browse the aisles for exactly the right snacks. Fondly gazes after you the whole time as you make tough decisions: Nerds or Twizzlers? Cookies or chocolate? Wally, do I want a vanilla or butterscotch pudding with my Oreos? Because that's a normal combination, what?
He's absolutely no help at all, too busy mooning over you as you flutter between the fridge and the chest freezer, babbling about how integral to your mood it is to pick the right snack. To cover for the fact that he isn't paying attention, Wally grabs a bag of marshmallows off one of the shelves when you call him out for not listening.
"These." He says, holding the bag up and then glancing at the graham crackers and Hershey's displayed at eye-level. "Maybe these?"
"You wanna make s'mores in the truck?" You ask, dubious.
"No," Wally saves himself, "Just these," and he jiggles the bag of marshmallows. They're the jumbo kind; the kind he used to bet his cousin Dennis to eat five of in one bite or else he couldn't play Wally's Magnavox Odyssey.
You consider the marshmallows for a moment and then, with a decisive nod, "And hot chocolate."
"And hot chocolate," Wally agrees, following you around the shop to the coffee station.
Wally pays for everything, hip-butting you (carefully, no spills) out of the way when you try to pass the cashier your card. He takes the bag and the tray of hot chocolate and still holds the door open for you with his heel. No fucking way is his princess lifting a finger on her birthday-slash-Wally's-freedom trip.
For every mile, you dip a marshmallow in your hot chocolate—dipping Wally's as well and feeding him, giggling when he nips or sucks the gooey sugar from your fingertips. It's silly and sweet and Wally basks in every second of it. Every second of your off-key singing, your trivia answers, your arguments over which is better, Thunderbirds or Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons.
"You know, I have been catching up on TV shows, right?" Wally laughs, "You can use better examples."
"What's wrong with puppets, Wally? Are you a pupaphobist?"
Wally barks a laugh, "That's not a thing!"
"It definitely is a thing," And you wield your phone, flashing Google as Exhibit A. "So? Are you? Just say it, you hate Jim Henson and everything he stood for."
And it's amazing. It's anything and everything and so much more than Wally could've ever hoped for. Even the quiet intervals when the sugar wears off and the early wakeup call catches up to you; your body curled up in your seat awkwardly just so you can angle yourself right to rest your head on the console and place Wally's hand in your hair.
Adorable little diva.
As you doze, Wally watches the scenery drift by, his lungs expanding more and more with every mile he puts between himself and Split River.
Eventually, he turns off the highway and onto the backroads without you noticing a thing. His fingers card through your hair, trace the shape of your jaw and cheek as he absorbs the softness of the moment and tucks it away behind his ribs. Safe and sound, to be pulled out and cherished when he's alone.
When he parks, he's reluctant to wake you. So, he doesn't. Not immediately. Rather, he spends a few minutes just resting himself, sinking down a little in the driver's seat. Then slants sideways, curls over and around you to kiss your ear, cheek, jaw.
He couldn't dim his smile if he tried, enamored when you protest at first, but then sigh, realize where you are and who you're with before groggily chuckling at Wally's antics.
"Surprise, baby girl," He whispers, letting you sit up so you can take in your surroundings.
The look on your face tells Wally he did a good job. The way you tackle him into the inside of his door and kiss him tells him he's going to have to start planning next year's surprise tomorrow, because, fuck yeah, this is exactly the reaction he's looking for.
Getting out of the truck and staring at Claire's stepdad's lodge; at the trees and the snow and the vast expanse of sky, it hits him again like a ton of bricks.
Holy fuck. He's out of Split River!
‗•‗
He doesn't wait to celebrate. As soon as he closes the door behind him, he reels you in, kisses you deep and hungry while you're only halfway out of your jacket. That's okay, he helps you get it the rest of the way off, along with everything else.
"Let me make you feel good, baby," He whispers against your skin, hands everywhere, his hips rolling into yours as he pins you to the wall beside the door. "Let me show you how much I love you..."
Wally kisses you deep, hungry, groaning into your mouth as he keeps grinding his hard cock against you, fuck, you get him going like nothing else. All you have to do is breathe in his direction and his pants tent.
Heat courses through him, curls tight in his belly and flushes outward to his limbs, God, he needs you. Now. Right fucking now, baby, come on. He carries you to the enormous kitchen island, peels your leggings and panties off and has his lips on you and tongue in you faster than you can cry out his name.
"So sweet, baby," He moans into your pussy, panting, not bothering to breathe in his greed for your taste and pleasure. "Fuck, I can't wait to be inside you."
He spears his tongue in and out of you before teasing little circles around your clit, his fingers plunging into you in place of his tongue. Wally could do this all day and never get tired; the sounds you make, the way you writhe and beg for him, Jesus, he can't imagine ever wanting anything else.
Cruel, desperate, he doesn't care what you call it, he stops right as you're about to come, shoves his sweatpants just below his balls and drags your hips off the counter to punch his cock into you. His head falls back as soon as he feels you around him, so tight and hot, "Fuck, yes, baby, so good for me."
And he sets a frenzied pace, unable to keep himself in check now that he has you like this. His fingers dig into your lovehandles, your legs hooked over his elbows. He's grunting, you're mewling your pleasure, and Wally about loses it before you do. But he doesn't. He's better than that, fucks you like a beast until you scream and shake and squirt around his cock.
It's game over after that. No way can he hold on, his body tensing, hips grinding, as he spills deep inside you. Carefully, he sits you more firmly on the counter and leans in to kiss you, soft, sated, a little blissdrunk in the afterglow. Bodies pressed together, slowly recovering, Wally strokes the arches of your cheeks with his thumbs and gives you a muzzy smile.
"You're my whole world, you know that?" He tells you and then captures your lips in a kiss that quickly turns heated, "I'll do anything for you, baby." Fuck, he's already getting worked up again, needs more of you, always needs more. "I'll die all over again if you asked me to."
"Wally..." You gasp when he rocks his hips forward, driving his cock back into you.
It's just after sundown before you and he finally check out what's beyond the open kitchen/living room space, the table and couch and ottoman and, shit, bearskin rug fully christened in sweat and come.
You and he jump on the beds with childlike glee, music blaring on speakers that cost more than Rodney's mortgage. Claire explicitly forbade Wally from using the master suite so, taking that into consideration, that's the first bedroom he fucks you in—from behind, driving his hips forward while he pulls you back against him. What? He'll do the necessary laundry.
If he remembers...
‗•‗
After a supper of haphazardly thrown together and grossly microwaved nachos, Wally snuggles you between his legs on one of the Adirondack chairs outside, under a thick blanket and dressed accordingly in the thermals and sweater and fuzzy socks he secretly bought and brought for you.
The fire pit blazes, the stars above twinkle, and the land around is a peaceful kind of dark. Not the ominous, suffocating dark Wally grew accustomed to in the confines of the school. The comfortable silence between you and him is accentuated by the crackle and pop of the fire, the scene so peaceful, Wally has to wonder if he ever experienced any such feeling before.
His arms tighten around you and he presses a kiss to your cheek from behind, watching the flames dance as you lance another marshmallow on your stick.
Tomorrow is your birthday and he intends to take you skiing. Or, when he knows you'll diplomatically decide to trade skis for slippers, he'll bring you back here at noon and spoil you rotten with presents and a homecooked meal; that bubble bath Nicole suggested (thank you, Nicole), and a long night on that bearskin rug (thank you Rhonda).
It's going to be an incredible week, he assures himself. And on Saturday, the others will arrive while he takes you into the resort town to explore so they can set up your big surprise party. Yuri will grill in a t-shirt, and Charley will force everyone to play '90s boardgames he died too soon to play, and Rhonda will make everyone take shots whenever Wally gives you heart eyes just to watch the messiness unfurl.
Claire will probably reprimand him for fucking in her parents' bedroom, but Wally doesn't care. Because it means he celebrated you right. That you and he had fun. That there's evidence of the fact that, for the first time in 40 years, holy fuck, Wally made it out of Split River!
🧁___________fin.____________
also on AO3!
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if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Anxiety.
a smutty flashfic explaining how not. clingy. Wally is even when he thinks you're mad at him but won't tell him why.
now this is the one
Skirts and Skins
Summary: Wally begs to eat you out.
Author's Note: This might be trash. It's sat ion my drafts for weeks.
You were a glowing light in the dingey after life of Split River high. You died and somehow became the glue that held the ghosts together after Mr. Martin crossed over. It was just a few weeks after him crossing when you showed up. You were a bit disheveled after dying as any normal person would be but you were still so soft and unmarred by death. You had died in a fairly grim way. You had been helping hang a banner for a school dance extremely high up and had taken a nose dive into the gym floor after losing your balance.
Wally had been in the gym shooting some hoops and watching the livings as he did frequently when you had taken your tumble. He had ran to catch you if only he was alive you wouldn't have fell through his arms into the floor at his feet. You had woken up in the teacher's lounge after Wally had carried you away from the horrific scene. He didn't want you to see yourself like that after what he had seen in his own death.
It had been a few months since your death and you had all of the ghost enamored with your sweet but sassy attitude. Wally couldn't help that his cock twitched every time you sassed him or got grumpy with him. You were just so fucking cute. He had to mentally scold himself when his eyes would glue themselves to your thighs. His mind wandering to how good they would look around his ears or around his hips, how sweet you'd taste and how bossy you'd be. He'd give just about anything to be on his knees before you.
You had noticed Wally's need to please you. He hardly let you lift a finger. You could see how pleased he was after receiving your praise for helping out. You'd never had someone want to do things for you but you were enjoying it. It had you curious where the line was drawn with him. How far would he go to please you.
You had asked for something small like to tie your shoe. He immediately knelt down and placed your sneaker on his thigh. You had grabbed his shoulder to steady yourself. He was so warm under your fingers as you trailed your hand up to his dark hair playing with it gently. Wally felt chills run through his body at your touch. He couldn't help but lean into your hand as he tied your shoe carefully. Once he finished he carefully set your foot back onto the ground before glancing up at you. You were smiling down at him and playing with his hair as you said "Such a good boy for me." Wally's jaw dropped open and his cock hardened at the praise.
You watched his gaze turn desperate as he gently grabbed your calves to steady himself. "Let me take care of you. Please." He begged as his hands drifted to your knees. You smiled down at him "Gonna beg for it, Baby?" you teased him. His eyes closed savoring the pet name before opening again and giving you his best puppy dog eyes as he said "Please let me make you cum. I need it Princess. Can't think of anything but your sweet pussy. Driving me fucking crazy." You smirked down at him before shaking your head at his attempt. "Wally you've gotta try harder than that. Make it special or I am going to keep telling you no, Baby." You say as you run your hands through his hair again giving it a gentle tug before leaving him there on his knees.
You wanted to say yes more than anything but the satisfaction it brought you to have a handsome ghost on his knees for you was too tempting. Wally watched you walk away and his mind immediately thought about how he could make this special. You were special, he needed you to know that. He also had to know how you would feel under him. His palms itched to get your thighs back in them.
°°••♡••°°°°••♡••°°°°••♡••°°°°••♡••°°°°••♡••°°°°••♡••°°
Wally remained by your side but hadn't asked you again. You had however caught his gaze on you many times. He would disappear for a couple hours at a time and you couldn't believe how much you missed him in those hours but you never mentioned it to him. You would gravitate closer to him once he returned but he never noticed. He still took care of your every whim and would triple check you didn't need anything before he left. It warmed your heart and your center that he wanted to take such care of you.
He came back from his daily disappearance with a huge grin on his face. He walked right up to you and grabbed your hand, pulling you as he walked down the hall. You giggled as you stumbled behind him. He glanced back at you a few times his grin getting wider as he lead you to the fallout shelter. He turned to you right outside the entrance turning and saying "Close your eyes please." You raised your eyebrows at him. He walked behind you and covered your eyes with his big hands before guiding you through the door.
He uncovered your eyes and the fallout shelter had string lights circling the room, a blanket laid out on the floor, and a cute picnic basket in the center. You smiled back at Wally as he ushered you towards the blanket. He sat in one corner leaned back with his ankles crossed and you had lowered yourself across from him. "What's in the basket Wally?" You smiled over at him curiously. He smirked at you before sitting up "Open and find out for yourself, Princess." You opened the lid of the basket to find all of your favorite afterlife snacks and drinks with a tulip resting on the top of the food.
You picked up the tulip gently, spinning it in your fingers slowly as a big smile graced your lips. Wally melted as he watched your expression turn giddy as you pulled out snack after snack. You smiled at him through your lashes before saying "Wally this is really sweet. Is this all just to get in my pants?" He smirks at you "Not just to get in your pants. However it is definitely a perk." He teases.
You giggle and begin snacking away as he talks to you about anything and everything. After the both of you get your fill of snacks you begin repacking the basket for later. Wally inches closer to you, eyes glued to yours. "I want you in every since of the word, Princess." He says as his hand grazes your shin. He looks up at you for approval awaiting your response. You smile at him and push his shoulders so he is in a sitting position.
You crawl over to him straddling his hips as he looks up at you in a state of shock and awe. You giggle at him before leaning down and pressing your lips to his warm ones. As soon as your lips touch his hands are on you. They skim from your hips up your sides and back down before resting on your upper thighs. You don't pull away until your lungs begin to burn for air. He chases you with his lips not wanting the kiss to break. You giggle leaning your head against his. You feel his strong hands squeeze your thighs gently before he asks "What are you laughing about?" You giggle even harder as you hear his heavy breathing.
He grunts at you squeezing your thighs tighter before leaning back and giving you a goofy grin. You let your hands run up his neck into his thick hair. He lets out a deep groan that makes you squirm as you lightly scratch his scalp. You grind down into him attaching your lips onto his neck. He tilts his head allowing you more access to his neck as he grabs your hips pulling you into him. You can feel his hard length under you as you push further down on him.
He bucks his hip up into you before he tightens his grip holding you still. "Princess. I need to taste you please. Need it so bad." He begs as you continue your abuse of his neck. You lean back admiring the marks darkening on his neck before he lifts you off his lap and gently rests you on the blanket in front of him. "Just lay back Baby and let me take care of you." He says as his hands glide from your ankle to the bottom of your skirt, bunching it up around your waist.
He admires the wet patch on your pink cotton panties. He takes his letterman off bunching it up before resting it under your head as a pillow. "You comfortable Princess?" he asked as he started to slot himself between your legs. You nodded yes up at him before settling further into the blanket. "Fuck you are so perfect Baby." He groaned as he spread your legs farther apart. Your cheeks heated at the compliment as he gently ran the tip of his finger down your clothed slit. He leaned forward placing a kiss on your mound before dipping his fingers into your waistband and slowly tugging your panties off.
His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you glistening in front of him. He used his thumbs to spread you open, you squirmed slightly at the feeling of his hot breath on your bare pussy. His smirk widened as he looked up at you saying "Prettiest pussy i've ever seen. Even better than I imagined." You wet your lips with your tongue as he returned his attention to your center. He flicked his tongue along your clit dragging it down to circle your entrance before taking your clit into his mouth. He hummed at the taste of you causing a gasp to tear from your lips at the sensation.
You swear you could feel his smirk widen on you. He replaced his mouth with his pointer and middle finger rubbing in slow circles as he prodded your center teasingly with his tongue. He sped his fingers up and began thrusting his tongue into your center. A mewl escaped your parted lips as your fingers sank into Wally's hair pulling him impossibly closer to your center. He continued fucking you with his tongue until you got all cute and whiny. Once you were wet enough for him he attached his mouth to your clit and sunk his middle finger into you. You let a hiss out as his cold ring brushed against your center.
Wally couldn't help but to grind his hard cock against the blanket for some type of attention, his cock painfully hard from watching you writhe against his mouth. He adds another finger watching as your wetness pulls him in. You whine out as he curls them into your gummy spot. You swear you see stars as he continues to punish that spot with his fingers. "Gonna cum for me Princess?" He asks so muffled against your clit you almost don't know what he's saying.
He rolls your throbbing clit between his teeth gently while massaging that spot sending you over the edge with a cry. Your whole body tenses, back arching, fingers digging into the blanket, as Wally looks at you like your the prettiest thing he's ever seen spasming around his fingers. He gently removes his fingers bring them to his mouth with a groan. He licks them clean while you stare up at him blurry eyed and red cheeked with a dazed smile on your face. Once he finishes cleaning his fingers he climbs back up your body gently resting his hips against yours. "You okay Baby" he asks while gently grabbing your face so you focus on him.
You smile up at him "Yea Walls I'm good, really good. Want your cock now." Your hands begin to push down his sweats. His large hands grasp your gently as he looks up at you saying "We don't have to if you don't want to." You smile up at his sweetly before you pull your hands from him dipping them into his underwear and grasping his length in your hand gently. His forehead hits your shoulder as he grunts at the feeling of your cost hand wrapped around him. You begin to glide your hand up and down smearing his precum down his length. His hips buck into your hand before he pulls away from you making you release him. "Princess as much as I enjoy this if you keep touching me like that I am gonna cum in my pants and that would really really bruise my ego." he says with a pant while he kicks his pants and boxers off.
You smirk up at him before you maneuver your leg around him flipping onto your knees. Your chest rests against the blanket with your ass in the air. "Holy fuck." Wally grunts out at the sight of you, his hands reach forward squishing your ass cheeks in his hands before spreading you open. He spreads your legs farther apart before he drags his heavy cock through your folds and slapping the head against your throbbing clit. You whine out pushing your hips back against him causing his head to slip into your dripping center. You both moan out at the same time spurring him to sink farther into you.
He bottoms out resting there to allow you to adjust to his thickness. He is trying to do math to stop himself from pounding into you when you squeeze him so tight it sends him into a frenzy. His hips pull all the way out before slamming back into you all the way ripping a scream from your lips. He leans forward grabbing your hair into a ponytail and pulling you flush against his chest causing you to sink completely on him. He reaches around grabbing your jaw tight but not enough to hurt and pulling you to look at him over your shoulder. He makes sure you are looking at him before saying "Tell me this is what you want. Tell me right now if you need me to be gentle otherwise I am going to ruin you." You clench around his cock at the thought before saying "Ruin me please." while looking up at him batting your pretty eyes and fuck he's gone.
He kisses you roughly before he pushes your face into his jacket and ramming into you. Your moans are ruffled by his jacket as he pulls you back onto his cock by your ponytail. The sensation of him pulling your hair and bruising your insides have you teetering over the edge. Wally feels you tighten around him and speeds up his thrust getting the both of you to the edge. You moan out each others names as you cum together. You whine at the sensation of his warmth filling you.
He gently lets go of your ponytail and pulls out of you with a grunt of protest. He pulls his shirt off before gently flipping you onto your back and cleaning you up with the gentlest touches. You lay there watching his attentive nature as he pulls out another blanket unfurling it before covering you up and then attending to himself. He grabs your favorite candy and a water from the basket before he asks you to sit up. He gets behind you so that your head is against his chest and hands you the opened water and candy before tugging the tie out of your hair and gently massaging your head. You whimper out at the sensation feeding candies to the both of you. "Did so good for me Baby. You feeling okay? Anything you need?" he says quietly while playing with your hair.
ugh so true
I will do anything for my boy Wally and that is a fact.
So I made a discord for us.
Milo hoes join up
The Alchemy by Taylor swift is Wally X Reader coded. Argue with the wall.
GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE
BARKING
Wow okay and now I’m crying
Already Gone - Wally and Maddie
Having such a hard time trying to figure out how to write pre-death wally. Because I know I’m gonna write it and someone’s gonna be like “but our boy would never” but yk what, I have a thing for mildly toxic men (I hate myself) and I also canonically, Wally was a dick before he died, is it really that far fetched to say that he was maybe he was a bit of a fuck boy? I think not.
Milo Manheim having a LIP TATTOO is insane news to me, because now that I’ve been made aware that he’s not opposed to having tattoos or the idea of tattoos
I NEED TO TATTOO HIM
Guys the tattoo artist inside of me is going FERAL
I did not go through a year of 60+ hour work weeks and emotional abuse from a building full of grown men at the ripe age of 18 years old for nothing
MILO! LET ME TATTOO YOU AND MY LIFE IS YOURS
Me because my wally drabble now has 2000 words and I’m thinking about splitting it into 2 parts bc no ones gonna spend a full hour reading that shit
My average writing experience:
"Alright I think I'm almost done actually-"
*Google doc grows second health bar and a choir starts singing in latin*
Guys help why was my first response “I wanna bite him” guys… GUYS
the things these photos do to me..
In the wise words of our lord and savior Cristina Yang, “SOMEBODY SEDATE ME”
Gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure atm. HIS ARMS 😍😍
Please bother me with questions and statements
bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements
I will do anything for my boy Wally and that is a fact.
To my fellow Milo fan page owners:
Guys we should start a gc I kinda like y’all 🥺👉👈
Help, I just opened this app for the first time in a couple hours and one of my favorite Fic writers just FOLLOWED ME BACK????
Like I spent my full day off reading through their Wally Clark fic last week and they just followed me back???
Bro I am giggling and kicking my feet rn
I know he can sing and yet every time I hear it, I have a visceral reaction of surprise at how fucking beautiful his voice is
(Side note: Disney did our man dirty and kinda shot themselves in the foot low key with how heavily auto tuned his voice is in Zombies because I’d watch those movies on mf LOOP if he sounded like that)
Milo Manheim and Elizabeth Gillies singing Suddenly Seymour in the Off-Broadway production of Little Shop of Horrors (2025)
Side note: My sister finally got around to watching season 2 of school spirits and I watched the last 3 episodes with her today and TELL ME WHY while we were watching episode 7, I watched her pause the TV, take a picture, and then set her home and lock screens on her cellular device to MILO MANHEIM’S BARE IVORY ASSCHEEKS.
And it’s just like one of those things where you almost have to take a deep breath because bitch I run a damn Milo Manheim fan page and I’ve been out done…
I feel weird.
I NEED HIM SO BAD I CANT EXPLAIN IT
Raise your hand if you’d fw a Wally Clark fic from Wally’s perspective (ooo so fun so different) and it’s just him obsessing over a reader who is alive and 100% cannot see him?
Oh do I got a surprise for yall tomorrow afternoon :)
Alright my precious little freaks of tumblr I’m gonna need WAY MORE WALLY CLARK X READER FICS I CANT HANDLE IT I HAVE THE LOVE AND NOWHERE TO PUT IT PLEASE
Wally: Guys! I found a 100 dollar bill!
Wally: looks around ….Should I keep it?
Charley: Wally, just do the right thing.
Rhonda: And put in your bag.
Charley: No—