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Wally School Spirits - Blog Posts
Standing ovulation. I mean ovation. Whatever 10/10
SUE ME GUYS but lowkey nicole is annoying as hell sometimes like ohmygosh getting all in her feels bc shredhead99 wasn’t some random ass dude “OH U KNEW IT WAS ME BLA BLA BLA” no babe… that’s not… SYBAU NICOLE U ANNOYING ASS BITCH
anyway yuri is the best!!! i love his hair!!!
wally is fine asf too!!!!
quinn x rhonda for life!!!
i love this show!!!
School Spirits season 2 spoilers
Even though im DEVASTATED about Maddie not being with the ghosts anymore i AM holding out hope that she can see them still like xavier sees the hospital ghosts
my reasoning is
1. she was out of her body for SO long so maybe thats why she can see them
2. maybe since no spirit was in her body for an extended period of time (in the last episode) that allows her to see them
3. she developed SUCH a strong bond with the ghosts so maybe thats why she can them
also we dont know if mr. anderson can also see them but i would wager not since it wasnt very long that he was out of his body.
I very much like the idea that dying somewhere gives you the ability to see the ghosts in that location
PLUS i am SO EXCITED to see happy maddie bc yes she was live laugh loving life with the ghosts but she was still struggling bc of everything going on. my girl deserves to enjoy LIFE
ok anyways thats my opinion
I was joking with my friends that Wally would fuck with High School Musical only to realise how well Scream from HSM 3 fits him
And now I'm experiencing emotions
wally is missing and he didn't cross over
simon is dead
ooh bodysnatching case #3
"Nothing lasts forever, but you were gone too soon"
NO, NO U DONT UNDERSTAND ANYTHING.. NO NO NOT AGAIN UGHHHH
FUCKING WALLY YO
npts ! :)
@toooster @glxsyymads @cloudedhologram @finn-furry @deadmockin and every other person that wants to join actually
🏹 everyone wants him, that was my crime ⋆. 𐙚 ̊
choose your favorite gentleman to match my favorite taylor line 💘
tags: @catchmeonyourceiling @lovethornes @daystarpoet @beaucereza @chxrrybxmbi @dolcecuore @auntiejohn @mothswan @binibby @bvrnesher @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat @certaimromance @effortlesslysweet @aezuria @mothswan @lydiasfalling @gibsluv @darkmatilda @amrplastique @gf2bellamy @peanutalergy @xoxorory @bvrnesher @mggslover @xoxoivy13 @laufeysvalentine @dxstoeskyvjbess @softspokenpoetry @tea-biscuits-books @minorlyatfault @lovesick-all-over-my-bed @ladyreid @lydiasfalling @wqlfstqr @jjsblueberry @darkskyangel whoever wants to join <3
(sorry if I didn't mention you but join in (I need to make a list of my mooties because I forget names )
when the line between wally clark and james potter slowly blur
heyo school spirits fans! i made a discord server, im new to making them so please let me know if i need to add anything, but if you want to join heres the link :)
Cannot be bothered to complete my assignments but will write thousands of words for a fic in one night
Pushing it down and praying
Summary: I’m obsessed with Wally Clark and Lizzy McAlpine and this idea came to me a few weeks ago
Ship: Wally Clark x Reader???
Warning: Major angst, sexual content, drinking and you are lowkey morally grey.
Words: 4.6k
**not edited
It had been 4 months since the wretched night in September.
Unusual coldness filled the night air, irony to the heat felt deep within your soul, burning with heartbreak. Wally said he loved you, he really did, but he didn't think this was working anymore. But there was no doubt in your mind he was lying. You truly loved him with everything in you, and if he felt the same, he would never be able to stand here and so causally break your heart.
Every thought relied on his opinion. Every outfit you wore and every way you fixed your hair, consumed by his likeness to it. Every decision you made, wondering if Wally thought it was the smartest one. Every part of you was intertwined with him.
Perhaps it wasn't the healthiest way of thinking, but Wally was nothing but all consuming. And he felt the same.
Until he didn't.
He said this relationship just wasn't good for either of you anymore. That maybe you wanted two different things. Though, all you ever wanted was to be loved by him.
He held you as you cried. Close. Maybe because he knew it would be the last time. Tears stained your face when you begged him to tell you what you had done wrong. Pathetic sobs choked from your throat through promises that, "I'll change" and "Whatever you want, Wally, I'll do it". What had become so different between the two of you that it was relationship ending? You said you would change whatever he wanted about yourself to satisfy him, and you meant it.
Pathetic wasn't the word to describe the scene. But you were 18, and so in love. The world was ending, and you were sure of it. Death by a broken heart would be etched across your tombstone—your murderer? Wally Clark.
He sighed, painfully, an ache settling deep within his chest. He didn't want to do this, but he knew he had too. Gentle hands rubbed your back whispering that you did nothing wrong, and that you were a great girlfriend.
Were.
The past tense of it all eradicated you, not finding it possible that he was already so detached; seemingly so moved on from your relationship already. Bile burned the back of your throat, sickness swirling in your stomach.
Eyes low and dark, he looked down at you. Guilt manifested there, the gloss over his pupils serving as proof. They looked different now. Not the ones you used to know, for he was not the Wally you used to know anymore.
He felt just as lost, even if you could never believe it. It had been the hardest thing he had ever done. Breaking your heart on purpose hurt him deeply, but feeling you slowly drift away killed him. The end was inevitable, high school relationships didn't last forever. He wanted to end it before you both hated each other and would think back on this relationship with a sour taste in your mouths.
Truth be told, you and Wally had been fighting a lot. It seemed like no matter the issue—big or small, you guys were now constantly butting heads. Everything ended in a disagreement, with you storming off and him running a few laps around his neighborhood to blow off steam.
When football practice ran late and he had arrived to your house at 6:12 instead of 6 on the dot, it was a problem. Or when you were going to make the two of you late to your plans, knee deep in a bottle of hairspray because your hair wouldn't sit right, it was "totally inconsiderate" of other peoples time.
Point was, things that you two would before laugh about, turned into instant bickering and short term grudges. But every relationship had problems. Not one seemed to large to work through for you, but apparently to Wally, they were.
The car ride home was one that you wished to forget. Bumps in the road made your already unsettled stomach twist with nausea. Time seemed to drag, the short ride from his house to yours feeling no less than a century long. Black stretched across the night sky, and you wished to fall into a black hole on your own.
His car, his scent, the insignificant items of yours scattered through his car, like the scrunchie you kept in the passenger side door—they all felt haunted now. The ghost of your first love a fear much greater than you anticipated.
Micheal Jackson played softly through the speakers of his '81 mustang. Memories of you two dancing to the same song burned through your brain, knowing that when you exited this car, it would all be in the past. Now, the only dancing the two of you did was around the fact things would never be the same.
When he pulled up to the front of your house, your heart tightened in your chest. You wanted to scream. To tell him to put the car in reverse and take you back to his house, so you could have a sleepover, like you always did on Friday nights after a game. But you didn't. You let the hot, wet tears stream down your face as you looked at him one last time. He was right there—only a foot away, yet the farthest he had ever been.
He let himself out of the drivers side, walking around to the passenger side to open your door for you like he had so many times. Regret coursed through his veins as he watched you walk up to your front door, quickly disappearing into the house he too knew like the back of his hand. He thought maybe he jumped the gun too quickly. His mind hadn't been in the right place for weeks. With it being his senior year, football was all-consuming. The pressure of getting a scholarship almost as debilitating as the pressure from his own mother. But it was too late now; your front door was closed and you were gone.
Heart heavy in his chest, he closed his eyes, wondering if he had made the right decision. He only drove off when he saw the light of your bedroom flick on, knowing you were safe in your room. He was always good like that.
—————————————————————————
You met Chris Sumner a month after your heart had been ripped from your chest. Well, you had always known him. He had attended Split River with you all these years, but your conversations had always been minimal.
Throat still tingling from shot you and your friend had taken just a few moments ago, he had offered to get you another drink. It was obviously a ploy to talk to you, as your newly gathered drink sat basically untouched in your left hand. You eyed the mystery liquid in your cup, offering him a small smile before setting it down beside you.
"Sure." You nodded, watching as his smile grew. He too eyed the cup beside you, content that his poorly thought out plan to talk to you had worked.
Him taking your hand in his surprised you, but you didn't pull it back. Instead you walked hand in hand with this boy across Jenny Parker's crowded basement, practically the whole class of '84 accompanying the room. You cursed yourself when the immediate thought that ran through your brain was how different his hand felt than Wally's. It had been a whole month since you felt his touch, but the feeling of him was tattooed throughout every inch of your skin, like a disease you couldn't get rid of.
Guilt hit you like a ton of bricks when you locked eyes with Wally across the party. He was talking to his best friend, Micheal, a half drank beer clutched in his hand that most certainly wasn't the one intertwined with yours. You watched as his smile faltered for only a second before he repositioned his body more toward his friend, effectively blocking himself from the scene before him.
You would never, ever cheat on Wally, but this felt like the closest thing to it. It felt like you had wronged him, committing the ultimate betrayal. It wasn't like you were talking to Chris against your own will, you wanted to, just didn't want Wally to see it. Even though he had quite literally shattered your heart, you had no interest in breaking his.
You lead Chris outside, away from the wandering eyes and the whispers of your classmates. Out of Wally's sight. He watched as the two of you disappeared out of the back door.
The rest of his beer was gone with one long swig.
Talking to Chris felt okay. You didn't know how else to explain it. He was sweet, thoughtful, it seemed. He made you laugh, and not just a pity laugh. Wasn't as douche-y as you once thought. He hadn't tried anything weird; he really seemed like he just wanted to get to know you. It felt nice.
So when he offered to drive you home that night, you let him. The two of you walking out to his car together didn't go unnoticed. Katie Murphy ran up, bangles clattering and hair bouncing.
"Leaving so soon?" She asked, obviously wearily looking between the two of you, analyzing the pairing in front of her. She always had a knack for being in everyone’s business.
"Yeah, Im not feeling so well, so Chris offered to give me a ride home." Was all you gave her, a small smile occupied your lie. You didn't know why it felt wrong to tell her the truth. You wanted to leave with him, you felt fine, so you weren't sure why the truth tasted so nasty in your mouth.
"Well have fun, you two." She winked at the two of you, Chris inhaling sharply at the gesture. She tightened the scrunchie that held up half of her hair—of course matching the shimmery blue that accompanied her eyelid—and turned away, practically skipping back into the party.
You would've bet all your money she was be-lining to Wally, telling him all about what she just witnessed. Most likely adding in things that definitely did not happen. If you could count on Katie for anything, it was to stretch the truth so much it became a lie, or just to simply make up a rumor in the name of gossip.
But you shouldn't care. Wally broke up with you after all, and you weren't doing nothing he wasn't aloud to do.
Chris suggested you guys leave, and it was only then you realized you were there, stuck, in the place Katie had left you. Staring at the door she disappeared in, fantasizing about what you were sure she was telling Wally. You nodded in response to Chris, climbing into a car that wasn't the one you had gotten so used to.
Giving him directions to your house felt strange, considering the first place Wally drove to when he got his license was your house. He had been talking it up for weeks, so excited to take you on a 'proper' date where neither of your parents had to drop you off and pick you up. 25 minutes early knocking on your bedroom door, too antsy to wait for you at the front door.
But that was all in the past now, and Chris was asking if your house was the one with the brick, or the blue shutters.
"I had fun tonight." He said softly, just as your hand made contact with the door handle. Moonlight shined on his face, his expression kind. You offered him a small smile.
"So did I." It wasn't a lie. Even after after all the memories that came flooding back of Wally and a side of guilt, you did have a good night with Chris. If you didn't want to talk to him, you wouldn't.
Since your breakup with Wally went public, which only took until about second period of that following Monday, several boys had tried to talk to you. Standing your ground had never been an issue, and you had no problem telling those boys no. Chris wasn't pushy, or had an obvious agenda to just get you in the bedroom, and you liked that. It was the bare minimum, but at the same time, you hadn't met many boys your age that surpassed it.
"What are you doing tomorrow night?" One foot already on the pavement, he blurted quickly. You quickly pulled yourself back in the car, shutting the door with a laugh.
"Me and Jenny are going to the mall at 11:30, but after that, nothing." He nodded, looking to either side of him.
"Would you want to go out to dinner, I could pick you up at 6? Or if you don't want to, that's fine; I know things are kinda," he coughed, "fresh between you and Wally—" His awkwardness was adorable, but you didn't need him to ramble on and explain himself to give him an answer.
"Yes, Chris, that would be really nice." Relief washed over him, scared he came off too strong too soon. Over you too, as you didn't expect the words to come out so easily.
He smiled, and soon enough the two of you had been talking for another 30 minutes. About what restaurants you liked to go to, your favorite spots around Split River, and what stores you and Jenny were planning to stop in come tomorrow afternoon.
When you yawned for the third time, Chris figured it was time to call it a night. Walking through your front door, you tuned to give him a wave. Through the darkness, you could still see that he was looking at you. Chris waved back, white teeth glowing in the midnight air. Quietly shutting your front door behind you, you smiled.
Proud of yourself, as you never saw yourself being so okay committing to a date with a boy that wasn't Wally. It felt quick, but was there ever really a good time?
That same smile fell quickly when as if like clock work, the second you took a step into your house, the landline echoed, the ringtone especially piercing in the middle of the night. You cursed as you tip toed over to it in record time, not wanting it to wake your parents. Whatever lunatic calling at this hour better have had a good reason.
"Hello?!" You answered, most likely sounding more frantic that you intended to be.
The voice that came through the speaker was undoubtedly Wally. Slurring the nickname only he called you, the one that would take anyone else a second to even register that it stemmed from your name. It was silly, but he had called you it since you were kids. Heart clenching, you shut your eyes in defeat.
Defeat in the way that the alcohol laced word could've made you cancel your date with Chris in a heartbeat.
Maybe you weren't as okay as you thought.
"Wally, what you doing? And where are you? You sound wasted." You couldn't help but be worried. Wally loved to party just as much as the next person, and had the tendency to take it a bit too far sometimes. You couldn't even count the amount of times you two had sat on the bathroom floor, him hunched over the toilet as you rubbed his back. Gross, but true.
"At home. But I'm about to come get you." Hiccups interrupted his slurred speech and you wondered when he had gotten so drunk. Sharply inhaling, you knew this had to do with him seeing you with Chris.
"The hell you are not. You can't drive like this, do not even think about it." You whisper yelled into the phone, overly cautious of your volume, knowing your parents were light sleepers. You didn't want to deal with the questions your parents would have if they heard this conversation.
"Swear I will." He mumbled into the phone, probably not even knowing what he was swearing to. The worst part? If he was sober, calling for the first time in a month, you might've just let him come get you. But he broke your heart, didn't even try to work on your relationship before calling a year in a half quits over a few meaningless fights. As much love you had for him, there was just as much anger where that came from.
"No you won't. Go to bed." You took the phone away from your ear, getting ready to set it down. Just before it hit the little button that would cause it to hang up, you pulled it back to your ear. "And drink some water." You finished, setting the phone down with more force than you intended. He was mumbling something when brought the phone back to your ear, but you didn't stay to hear it.
Because he didn't stay when things got rocky.
You stayed up by the phone for a week straight after he broke up with you, hoping he would call and take it all back. Fantasizing each day in school that he would come up to you, telling you he was the biggest idiot to live, that he was sorry and a coward. That never came.
You knew he was hurting too in all of this, each game running less yards than the last. Or when he showed up to with school puffy eyes and told everyone he had just stayed up too late the night before. But he was the one that made the mess, and you wouldn't be the one to fix it, even if it killed you to walk past him like a stranger.
So, no, a drunk call at 1:30 in the morning wasn't cutting it for you. You knew him inside and out, and if he wanted something, he would get it. Therefore, if he wanted you back, he would've tried. And he didn't.
With all that being said, you found yourself waiting up on your porch until the sun was rising. You had to make sure he didn't drive to your house in the manor he was in. Wally was nothing if not a man of his word. The only time he ever lied was, thankfully, that night, and when he said you guys would be forever.
Although you hated to admit it, a small part of you hoped he would show up. Maybe Micheal would drive him, or hell if you cared, he could've walked. You wanted to him show up, just like the movies, confessing his love. Replaying the hypothetical conversation in your head over and over, you kept a steady eye on the road. Every car that passed was him only for a second, before your eyes focused and you realized it wasn't him.
Disappointment wasn't a feeling you ever associated with Wally Clark until recently.
————————————————————————
The following days at school had been just like the past month. Neither of you looked at each other, continuing to carry on as strangers.
You and Wally never spoke about the drunk call that night, or the fact you left with Chris. And so, you and Chris talked. A lot.
As the weeks would pass, your feelings for Chris grew stronger, but so did your longing for Wally. It made you feel evil, looking for parts of him in Chris.
Chris was kind. Gentle. Caring. He got you flowers every week. Held the door for you. Really listened when you talked. He never raised his voice at you. He was good, but he wasn't him.
Like on January 1st at 12:00, when you kissed Chris and Wally kissed Eliza Benson, your first thought—or twelve, didn't pertain to Chris or the new year. You wondered if Wally remembered that this day two years ago was when you shared your first kiss.
Or when Chris asked you if you knew that song; of course you did, everyone did. But you didn't mention that was your and Wally's song.
And Especially now, as you lay flat against the sheets of Chris's bed. It was January 8th, which would've been your and Wally's two year anniversary. Chris didn't know that, and he never would.
No one had ever seen you in this way, no one expect Wally.
It didn't feel wrong that you were about to have sex with someone that wasn't Wally, as your sure that he and Eliza had done it multiple times. What did feel wrong, was the way you closed your eyes, tight, erasing Chris entirely.
He asks if you're okay, your face all scrunched up in a look that could only be described as unpleasant. You assure him you're fine.
You're fine.
You smile when you look into his eyes. For a second you allow your self to be there, in the moment with him. You like him a lot, you truly do. But like in every thing else, the ghost of your first love is haunting you.
His chain hits your chin as he pumps himself in and out, but it's silver, not gold. You take it in your fist anyway, pulling him closer by it. Kissing his mouth, you fake a moan. It felt good, but you felt evil.
Chris had done nothing wrong; in fact, he had done everything right. His only crime was not being him.
"I love you." He whispers into your neck, and you thank whatever god is above that he can't see your face. Your hand finds his back, pressing down for him to go deeper.
You can feel the weight of his body against yours, but his words held the weight of the world. It felt dirty coming from him, like it some forbidden spell that shouldn't be repeated out loud in fear of conjuring some urban legend ghost.
And it did just that. Once again, Chris and his presence was gone, replaced by Wally. Those words were sacred, for only you and him to share.
"I love you too." But you're talking to Wally, not to Chris. It's a lie, it's all a lie. But you would rather lie than ever admit what was circling through your brain right now. He didn't deserve it.
You can feel him smile against your skin, and your eyes close, imagining Wally's sweet smile. Like the one he smiled at you just over two years ago, after you kissed for the first time. People screamed and shouted around you, celebrating the new year, but the two of you were silently celebrating the start of something entirely different.
Even with all those people around, you only saw him. Much like now, how the only thing you could think of—or see, was him. You both were only 16 then, and had the world in front of you. You wondered what the world had in store for Wally Clark, and especially, what place you had in it.
It's all wrong. His scent, his sheets, the way he feels inside of you, but especially you. You are so wrong for feeling this way, and you know it. You feel a pit deep in your stomach; it's not from pleasure.
When he flips you around, your cheek lays flat against the mattress and your eyes close again. Wally is inside you, just like he has been a million times before. His hands are tight against your hips, gripping onto the skin there.
It's over then, hot, filthy streams of Chris across your back. You sigh of relief, feeling more empty than before you started. He collapses on the bed beside you, grin serving as proof that you got away with your crime of identity theft.
"That was really good" He looks between your eyes than your lips. You swallow, praying your face won't give you away. Guilt tears through you, stomach turning with disgust.
"It was." The two of you smile at each other. One criminally fake, and one real.
—————————————————————————
"I need to tell you something." You start, your voice just a whisper as you look behind Jenny, watching as your other friends were finishing up in the lunch line. You didn't want the others to know.
Curiosity fills her face, giving you a side eye. "What's up?" She asks, slight weary after studying your face. It was unreadable. Not surprising, as you didn't even know how to feel.
"Me and Chris... ya know. Last night." Your voice isn't above a whisper, leaning in close to ensure your best friend heard you. She backs up, a slow grin growing across her face.
"No way?" She raises her eyebrows. "You scandalous little thing!" She squeals, always one to love hearing all the latest gossip.
"So tell me, how was it? Totally amazing?" Head in her palms now, she looks at you with wide eyes, ready to hear all the details. "Was his thing bigger than Wally's?" She adds, voice low, but in all seriousness. You laugh, you can't help it, she's ridiculous. Jenny had no filter, and along with that, practically no sense of TMI.
All your friends were super surprised at how well you handled your breakup with Wally. Or, in reality, how good you were at hiding it. But that was something you chose to keep close to you and not share. As far as your friends were concerned, you were over him and thriving. You wanted to keep it that way.
"You're ridiculous, Jen." Swatting away her question with your hand, you laughed.
"Oh, no, but I'm serious." She nodded her head, confirming her own thought.
"Trust me, I know you are." Your heart rate quickened when you saw the rest of your friends start to walk over, not wanting to share this just yet. You didn't want it to be the hot talk of lunch. You needed another day to process it before talking about it with all the girls. More or so rehearse what you would say and how you would say it, to feed into the idea that you were over Wally, and happy with Chris.
"So.... Let's hear it! I want all the details. Top to bottom. Literally. Actually, I hope you weren't on top. I hate doing it, like ugh, It's so bor—"
"Jenny stop! Yes, it was good," you lied, "and no, he wasn't bigger than Wally." You cursed yourself at the way your voice faltered when you spoke his name. The clearing of the throat that followed only gave you away further.
Jenny frowned at you, head titling to the side in analyzation. "You're not still hung up on him, are you?"
The way she worded it hurt, like it was ridiculous if you weren't over him by now. It had only been four months, and you two were together for a year and 8 months. In her defense, you did quite literally have a whole other boyfriend, which is also probably why you felt like such a horrible person constantly. Guilt weighed heavy on you each day, and being proposed with the question made you feel rotten inside.
"No, no, not at all. I'm happy with Chris, he's great." You were quick to defend yourself. Maybe too quick. But Jenny didn't have time to give your reaction any further thought, as the other girls had walked over to the table. While she looked up to greet them, loud and welcoming, you stole a quick glance at Wally.
He sat at his undesignated designated football table, where all the other players sat, even if the season had ended. You watched as he laughed, mouth open, and head thrown back at something his friend said.
He was the only person in this world that could see right through you. You prayed that the disconnect between you two paired with the act you put up was enough for even him to not notice you pushing it all down.
And even worse, you prayed he felt the same.
Wally got those most votes so far so here’s the football star! I also drew him in math. His eyes r a little odd but I tired :p (I got the years right I think)
Join my 18+ School Spirits Discord ❤️❤️❤️
Did a bit of a twist on this one… #hyperfixation
He's beautiful
THAT LOOK THE SMILE I WOULD MELT
Man’s aura is off the charts
I always thought she should've asked Simon like
"Hey, can you please bring us a bunch of different movies so we can watch something that's not just school approved?"
I can imagine Wally and Charley holding onto Maddie if the movie is scary and yelling, "WHY would he bring this movie." Maddie is cackling because she loves scary movies
Maddie comes back to school with a stack of more recent and not-school-library-approved dvds, going oh no I hope a ghost doesn't STEAL THESE FROM MY LOCKER
And Charley is standing behind her like you can see me. We just had a whole conversation about you being in the hospital? Why are you like this.
I’ll probably end up writing all three but I need an idea of which one to do first
Wally: Charley, what do IDK, LY, and TTYL mean?
Charley: I don’t know, love you, talk to you later
Wally: Ok, I love you too, I’ll just ask Rhonda.
ok chat this is the last one for today ok
The first one is so accurate pls I’m giggling 😭😭😭
they shouldve hugggeddddd🥲🥲
Wally, holding in his laughter: Hey, how do you ask a glass of water what it’s doing?
Janet: A glass of water is an inanimate object. Therefore, it is incapable of having a thought process or understanding basic human language.
Wally:
Wally: Water you doing?
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!
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.