I Just Got Called Broke In 50 Different Languages

I just got called broke In 50 different languages 😭

Reblog this and money will be entering your life this week

It's 4am and I'm learning stuff about myself 😊 (I'm internally sobbing)

this post hasn't left my mind since i've first saw it

Hopes And Fears - Part Four. (Wally Clark x Reader)

Summary: Y/N’s death was traumatic. So traumatic in fact she can’t even look at Wally without reliving her death.

Word Count: 2.8k

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings: Mature Language, Themes Of Rape/Sexual Assault

“That was kind of harsh Rhonda.”

Charlie’s voice breaks the uncomfortable silence that has fallen upon the group. Each face holding a different expression. Rhonda full of hatred, Charlie consumed by guilt for not stepping in, Wally a mixture of surprise and discomfort.

“Do you think maybe somebody should go after her?” Dawn questions, speaking for the first time since the group session began.

Rhonda huffs, slumping down into her chair as she realises that nobody is taking sides, and if they are, they’re not taking her’s.

“Off you go then Wally, run after your precious little angel.” The girl spits, lips set in a firm scowl, eyes shooting daggers towards him.

“Rhonda!” Mr Martin snaps, though the teens aren’t listening. After all, despite being a teacher, he holds no position of authority over them in death.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Wally asks quietly, shaking his head as he does so.

“Maybe I’ve just had enough. Sixty years I’ve been here Wally! Yet nobody seems to care about how that makes me feel, all of you are just pandering to the new girl.” She shouts, slamming her hands down on the edge of her chair as she does so. Taking everyone by surprise.

“Rhonda, of course we care but you’re being really mean.” Charlie speaks softly, gazing sympathetically at the brunette girl.

“Mean? I don’t think I’ve been mean enough. I mean seriously is nobody questioning why she’s being so secretive? What doesn’t she want us to know?” Rhonda continues to push her argument in an attempt to gain a rise out of the other students. Hoping to get them to question themselves and where they stand in regards to the situation. “If you ask me, I reckon the bitch killed herself and she’s too much of a wuss to tell us.”

“That’s bang out of order Rhonda and you know it!” Wally bellows, leaping out of his chair and stomping straight over to her, hands placed on either side of her legs, caging her between himself and the back of the chair. “Don’t you ever speak about her like that again. Don’t you dare so much as look at her. Or I will make the rest of your eternity a living hell, do you understand me?”

Rhonda has no time to respond, though the frightened look on her face tells Wally all he needs to know. Without a second glance, he’s barging out the room. Launching one of the empty chairs across the gym as he does so, resulting in a large clatter though nobody really notices. All eyes fixed on the loveable jock, dumbfounded at the rage he is exhibiting. This being entirely out of character, never once in the years they had no Wally had he exploded in such a way.

Whilst each of the ghosts sits silently, all contemplating their next move in order to avoid another argument, Charlie is the first to make a move. Giving Rhonda a nervous glance, he slowly exits the gym. Asserting that his decision as to who’s side he is on has been made.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Ducking under the police tape, I’m thankful that no officers are around. Granted, I know they can’t see me, I just find it awkward to be stumbling between the living. I’ve come to realise just how much people lack spacial and self awareness.

The room is exactly as it was left, blood stains splattered on the tiled walls and floors. A glistening red in contrast with the mucky white tiles. In fact, the only change within the room is the numbered notes, I can only assume for any evidence the officers may have gathered.

I find myself perched on the end of the splintered wooden bench, lost in thought as I fixate on the scene. I’m amazed at how much blood I truly lost, assuming it would have only been small flecks. When in reality, it is everywhere. Stains from how it pooled mark the floor as well as splashes coating the walls.

My mind flashes back to that moment. Their hands on my body. The beatings I endured as I tried my best to resist. Sharp pain as I tried my hardest to close my legs. Squeals of agony escaping my mouth only to be met with a calloused hand gripping my face tightly prevent anymore noise.

It’s only when I feel a tear drip from my chin to the back of my hand that I realise I’m crying. Nothing to be heard other than my soft sniffles. Despite the memories plaguing my mind, I can’t help but feel proud at myself for returning here. It’s such a small accomplishment and yet for me, it feels as though I’ve taken a huge step forwards into fully processing what I went through. It’s a step closer to healing.

“God, I can’t believe they haven’t cleaned this up yet. I’d have thought they would want to scrub it straight away.”

Charlie’s voice takes me aback and my head spins towards the door. Noticing him shyly stood just outside of the room, almost like he doesn’t actually want to enter. An overwhelming sense of deja vu hits me and I’m reminded of our first interaction right outside.

“I don’t think they’re legally allowed to clean up. Otherwise I’m sure they’d have torn the entire building down by now.”

Shuffling over on the bench slightly, Charlie takes this as an invitation and perches beside me. The two of us staring at the crime scene.

“So I take it you were murdered.” He questions apprehensively, knowing full well what the answer is.

“I’m sorry I haven’t spoke about it yet.” I speak softly, almost afraid of what his reaction could be. I don’t want him to lose his temper like Rhonda, though I get the feeling that he doesn’t have an angry bone in his body. “Charlie, I want to talk. I do. It’s so recent though, I haven’t even been dead a month. I get that it’s shitty but I’m not ready to go into the details of it all.”

“You would think out of all of us that Rhonda would be the most understanding. She’s always been very open about her murder though.” Charlie tells me, seemingly unfazed by my lack of wanting to talk. “I get it though Y/N, you don’t owe us anything. Don’t tell Rhonda this because she’ll think I’m a complete bitch but she was strangled to death, and no offence but judging by the state of this room, your murder was a lot more brutal.”

“Let’s not turn this into a competition of who had a worse death.” I joke, feeling more relaxed due to his words. “But seriously thank you. It means a lot that you’re being so nice.”

“Of course.” The boy smiles brightly, which seems to be contagious because I can’t hold back the beam on my face either. “On a completely separate note, you should probably go and find Wally. He completely lost his shit with Rhonda after you left. Like he went full psycho, I’ve never seen him lose it like that before.”

“Fuck.” I whisper, running a hand through my hair, a habit of mine when I’m under stress. “Thanks again Charlie, I really appreciate it.”

Charlie only nods gently, watching me scurry out the room. Clearly sensing that I’m in a rush to find the footballer. Wandering around the halls of Split River, it’s only then that I realise I have no idea where Wally could be. Worry begins to seep through my pores, knowing there is endless possibilities as to where he could be. If only the school could be ten times smaller. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so challenging.

Thinking back to our previous conversations, I try to remember any hangout spots that Wally may have mentioned. Though these rarely seem to come up in conversation. We spent most of the time sprawled out in the gardens and yet there was no sign of him when I searched back there.

Huffing out of annoyance, I’m fully prepared to give up my hunt for him. At least I was. Out of the corner of my eye I become aware of the sign directing students towards the pool. Wally’s words ring in my head from earlier this morning.

“So I was thinking we could have a pool day.”

With crossed fingers and countless prayers being whispered under my breath, I stride towards the pool. Confidence boosted as I hope that my intuition is right and that he went away with his pool day solo.

My suspicions are confirmed as my eyes lay upon the handsome boy. Lost in his own thoughts as he drifts about on a pool floaty, arms tucked beneath his head and sunglasses on to block out the rest of the world. Loitering at the edge of the pool, I remain silent. Just for a moment. In order to truly appreciate this man’s beauty. He’s the most exposed I’ve ever seen him. Granted he’s only shirtless, but still I can’t help the flutter I feel in my heart (and possibly between my legs). With defined abs and toned body, he reminds me of a Greek statue, carved out of stone.

“Y/N, I’m not really in the mood to talk right now.” Wally states, as my eyes drag up his body, I’m aware that his sunglasses are now placed on his forehead and he most likely just caught me gazing at his physique.

“I know, neither am I.” I admit, sitting down at the edge of the pool, pulling my shoes off and throwing them behind me so that I can dip my feel it in the lukewarm water. “But I do owe you an apology.”

This catches his attention and I see his eyebrows raise, eyes darting over to me. Wally looks sad. There’s no other way for me to describe it. I’ve seen him sulk and upset before. However, he looks worse than I’ve ever seen.

“Rhonda’s words really hit me. I never meant to make you feel like you’d done anything wrong. I’m so sorry for making you feel that way. You don’t need to try to make me feel less threatened. I know you don’t have a cruel heart.” I admit, voice shaky as I genuinely have no idea as to how he will react. “It’s no excuse, but I was struggling a lot those first couple of days and I guess I took it out of you and you didn’t deserve that. So I really hope you’ll forgive me. I also thought I should probably mention that you don’t have to stop wearing your football stuff because of me. You love it, I don’t want you to feel as though you can’t wear it because I’m going to have a breakdown.”

Swinging my feet in the water slowly, I keep myself focused on this rather than Wally who floats a few feet away. His silence scares me slightly and I know that if I even look at him, I may burst into tears. I never meant to hurt him. I really didn’t.

“Rhonda’s full of bullshit.”

I’m shocked when he speaks, purely because I thought he was mad at me. I’m even more shocked when I understand what he’s said. Never once hearing Wally say a bad thing about someone and here he is calling out one of the ghosts he’s known the longest.

“What?” I’m completely puzzled by what he just said, not knowing what he means by it and whether he means that what Rhonda said wasn’t true. My tone reflects this and when I go to look up at him, he’s already slipping off the floaty and swimming towards me.

“I said Rhonda’s full of bullshit.” He’s pretty much beside me now, arms crossed as they rest against the edge of the pool next to me. It’s the closest we’ve ever been to one another and I can’t deny the way my heart races right now. Not even one ounce of fear resides within me despite our close proximity. Maybe I am doing better now? “I like spending time with you Y/N. I wasn’t trying to make you feel less threatened. Yeah, I wanted you to feel welcome and to know I mean no harm but that was it. All the time I’ve spent with you is because I wanted to, I enjoy it.”

“So you’re not mad at me?”

He laughs faintly. “No, I’m not mad at you. Thank you for the apology but you really didn’t have to say anything.”

I cannot even begin to describe how relieved I am that the ghost isn’t mad at me. For a moment back there, I was prepared to spend eternity alone, thinking everybody had turned their backs on me. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case and I potentially let myself overthink without speaking to anybody under less tense circumstances.

Grateful to have resolved things with Charlie and Wally, the only person left is Rhonda. However, something tells me that she might need some time. I doubt seeking her out is the best course of action right now and she probably needs space to cool off. So, for now, I’m happy to sit here and bask in the peace once more.

“So, a pool day for one isn’t exactly the most exciting and fun time.” Wally mentions, splashing a small amount of water at me.

“No I can’t imagine it is.” I reply, he swims backwards, a silent request for me to join him in the water. Which I’m happy to oblige.

Stripping off my clothes, I dump them on one of the seats. Out of the way of the pool edge in the hopes that they remain dry. Left only in my underwear, a lacy red bralette with matching thong, I thank my lucky stars that the day I died was one of the days I wore a decent set.

A shaky breath leaves my mouth as I turn around to face Wally. It’s the most vulnerable I’ve felt since getting here and I am anxious. Afraid of any judgement from Wally and afraid of being so exposed. All of these thoughts vanish instantly when Wally’s eyes begin to trail my body. Flashing with desire. He doesn’t think I’ve noticed, though I don’t miss the barely there whistle that escapes under his breath.

“Are you gonna move out of the way or what?” I ask, hands on my hips as I wait for him to move to one side.

He does so with no complaint and I sprint forward, diving straight beneath the water and surfacing with a gasp for air. Pulling my hair out of my face, I find myself only a few inches away from Wally and take the opportunity to splash the water in his direction. After all, it’s only fair that I take my revenge.

“Oh this is war.” Wally yelps after being pelted in the face again by another large splash.

We’re both rocked against the waves that the battle has created. Huge splashes attacking each other alternatively, repeatedly in hopes of taking the other person down. I’m completely unaware that the force of the water is slowly bringing us closer together and before I know it we’re face to face. Noses practically touching one another.

“I think I win.” He whispers, sopping wet hair pushed back off his forehead, small curls beginning to form.

“Never.”

He’s focused on me, chestnut brown eyes piercing into my soul. I daren’t think too much, scared he can read my mind with the force of his gaze. A sudden surge of bravery must overcome him as he gently reaches out, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. His touch is soft, as light as a feather. Like he’s scared I’ll pull away. It’s the first time we’ve ever made physical contact and though the act is so sweet and innocent, my heart flutters at the intimacy of it.

His hand is delicate as it moves from my hair, gliding down my cheek to hold it lovingly. It’s then that I notice his eyes flickering down to my lips, silently asking for permission. As much as my heart desires his touch and his affection, something in my mind can’t let go. It won’t allow me to take that step further and so I reluctantly pull away. The move quick as I break out of his gentle hold.

“I’m gonna go dry off in the sun.” The words spill out of my mouth, faster than I intended. Wally tries his best to hide it but I spot the disappointment clear on his face. Obviously hoping that this could have gone further.

If only I was able to articulate to him just how much I wanted to take things further as well. For now though, we’ll stay friends.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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October Sun

summary: you'd never told Xavier. not because he hadn't been a good friend, but because you'd kept a secret no one but you had known. only then, in the eye of the storm, you'd been forced to tell him: i can't remember.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

sorry for the delay, loves, work was overwhelming (it's busy season) and i'm sick and it was a lot 😩⚰️ ilyg 🫶

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.25

In 1987, during the period Wally had still been reluctant to join the Afterlife Support Group, Mr. Martin had asked Bernie to ask Wally to help Mina Volkov transition from life to death. You're from the same decade—Mr. Martin's words from Bernie's mouth—she probably remembers you. Although, looking back, Wally wondered if it hadn't been a strategic play to get Wally to see the benefits of togetherness.

For the first time since his death, Wally had felt useful, but it'd backfired almost immediately and had sent him into a tailspin of doubt and frustration that'd lasted another five or so years. Mina had simply yelled at Wally about a safety course and how she hadn't been responsible for who got what part, barking at Wally until he'd descended from the rafters with his tail between his legs. He'd tried a few more times after their first encounter to cajole Mina out of her roost, and he'd been chased away every time.

So, color him surprised when Mina quietly accepted the bouquet Maddie handed her, tempered, receptive, and willing to offer what she knew by lifting and dropping the stage's trapdoor.

"How did she do that?" Wally asked of Maddie, who'd done in a minute what he'd tried to do over the span of years.

"Maybe it has something to do with what your girlfriend mentioned," Rhonda said in long, bored strokes, "Maddie might have ghost powers that she can use to tame even the most stubborn dead stagehands."

Wally warmed at Rhonda's use of the word 'girlfriend', cheeks flushing and heart picking up speed. He hadn't given much thought to titles, but something inside him did somersaults at the idea that you and he were that kind of official.

"Stop that." Rhonda smacked him lightly in the chest with the back of her hand.

Wide-eyed and totally confused, "Stop what?"

"Your face," Charley explained, "It's gone all soft and pining." Then, to himself, "It's actually adorable."

Wally rearranged his expression into something less smitten as he, Rhonda, and Charley stood and followed Maddie through the trapdoor and down into the cellarage.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Time stammered to a stop, the walls closed in; lights dimmed, noise ceased, and all you could see was Xavier. His ice-wild eyes filled with fear and confusion, already positioned on the defensive, more disturbed than you'd ever seen him before.

"Zav?" You croaked as your heart thundered in your chest. "Are you—?"

"No." Xavier snapped, pacing a few steps forward and then back, "Don't. Just. Stop..." He deflated instantly, rubbed his eyes, and raked his fingers through his hair, and then he demanded, "Who was that guy?"

You couldn't deflect; couldn't say no idea what you're talking about, couldn't fake it 'til you made it or wait for him to think up some plausible excuse on his own that you'd glom on to and ride into the sunset. It was Xavier and you'd promised yourself years ago that he'd be the one person in the world you'd never, ever lie to. Dance around the truth for self-preservation? Sure. But outright lie to him? Your instincts screeched and cried against it, fight-flight-frozen in place as you watched his eyes dart around, the flurry of his thoughts practically spilling out of him for you to hear.

The years you'd spent curating an occult personality, touched by the same incandescent, bewitched spirit as every other boho-goth girly with a penchant for Halloween and horror films; the admissions you'd made of having a crush on a ghost at the school; the easy way you talked about what lay beyond the spiritual veil. The many breadcrumbs you'd dropped in the form of red herrings rose like a bloated corpse from the depths of a lake as he viscerally pieced together the truth.

"I know what I saw." He grunted, falling back against the wall and sliding to the floor, head in his hands, wide eyes staring at his feet. "You were making out with some rando and then he just...vanished into thin air." Xavier made a poof-gone burst with his hands, head panning in a crescent to scan the hall for signs of what he'd witnessed.

"Xavier, I..." Didn't know what to say and your inability to explain everything away seemed to strengthen Xavier's resolve.

He sniffed, dropping his arms to hang on his knees, face creased in a pain you didn't know the source of. "I know I can be a shit friend," He began, tone thin as wet paper, but before you could voice a denial, he continued, "I know that everything with Maddie has...has been hard and it's obviously triggered something for you, but..." And his voice scratched, "I thought I was your best friend."

"You are," You insisted, trying so hard to convey how true the sentiment was.

"Yeah? Then why don't you ever talk to me about Aidan?" A blade to the heart. "Why won't you tell me what the fuck actually happened to him? I loved him, too." The blade twisted, sinking deeper. "I know it wasn't an accident, May; I know you saw something; I know you were there." The nickname hurt for more reasons than one, and it took everything in you not to call Xavier out. "Why don't you ever share anything with me? And now you're buddy-buddy with Simon and handsy with a guy you can't. tell. me. wasn't Walker Clark—fucking Number 57 right on his jacket, DEAD high school legend." Xavier paused his tirade to note, "Jesus Christ, I sound fucking crazy," knocking his head against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut.

Your surprise bubbled out of you before you could reel it back in, "How do you even know any of that?"

Xavier slumped in defeat, shook his head, and confessed, "You always talked about him. How your mom fangirled after him worse than a K-pop stan." He snorted, "In sophomore year, when Eli asked you out? You wouldn't stop joking about how you thought a stupid ghost was more your type." He looked up at you then, gaze misty, brows pinched in anguish. "I wanted to see what the hype was about...so I checked out the '84 yearbook in the library. There's a whole spread dedicated to his memory, did you know that?"

You did. You'd been shown a printout of it along with the rest of Wally's dossier. "Yeah."

"I mean, I thought you'd just looked it up, too." Xavier laughed without humor, "Thought you were just bullshitting for the sake of some manic pixie dream girl vibe you wanted to try out because being a teenager's fucking stupid like that, but..." Again, his gaze met yours, held it briefly as he stared into your soul, and then skirted away, up and down the hallway before returning to fixate on the theater door. "Where'd he go, May?"

"Please stop calling me that." You said, hoarse, strangled, breath shortening as your lungs struggled to expand.

Xavier stood and strode forward until you and he were nose to nose, "Who was that?" He pressed, "Who just had their hands all over you and then disappeared just like that." The last word emphasized with a loud snap of his fingers.

"Zav, please, just hold on—"

He abruptly whirled around, stormed toward the theater door, and violently threw it open. You scurried after him, pleading with him to listen as he charged down the center aisle toward the stage, calling out for whoever you were to show himself as if to prove Xavier wasn't losing his mind. And he wasn't, you knew that, but how were you supposed to tell him without doing more damage than had already been done when you'd revealed yourself to Rhonda and Charley?

"Xavier, wait!" You yelled, panicked, divulging the only thing you thought might redirect his manic assault around the theater. "I didn't tell you about Aiden because I can't remember!"

Xavier stopped his search, still as an eerie pond in winter, and slowly turned to face you. "What?"

"I can't..." Fuck. You scraped your fingers over your scalp then shot your arms wide, "I can't remember." You revealed, voice cracking, "It comes back in bits and pieces that don't make...they don't make sense without the context and you're right, okay? I was there, but I can't remember. Not everything." The door, the farmhouse, blood, blood everywhere, a crowbar, and Aiden screaming for you, his Sissy May because your mother always called you her May child—her little baby girl a symbol of new hope and abundance that had nothing to do with Beltane or spring blessings or the month of May itself.

"What do you mean you 'can't remember'?" Xavier questioned, face scrunched up as if that was somehow crazier than the fact that he'd seen you and a literal ghost make out.

Tears streamed down your face, vision blurry, voice pitched and broken as the last thread of control you had on the situation split. "I don't know." Xavier shook his head in disbelief, compelling you to blurt out whatever you could to keep him calm, "I really don't know. Ms. Chung kept saying my brain was 'repressing the trauma' but I wanted to remember. We tried everything: Art therapy, guided imagery, fucking hypnosis, Xavier, and nothing worked. I can't...I can't remember anything after I picked Aiden up from school."

Panels of that drizzly afternoon read like a heavily redacted picture document. The short walk in the rain from the elementary schoolyard to the end of the block. The friendly smile on a face you knew you'd recognized but that now had a thick, black bar over the nose and eyes. The apple juice. The farmhouse cellar. The crowbar. The door. And then everything sped up from images to a movie reel when then-Deputy-Baxter had to wrestle you to the ground at the side of the dirt road while EMTs tried to resuscitate Aiden.

"I didn't tell you because there wasn't anything in here," You aggressively jammed your fingers into the side of your head as if attempting to unblock the memories, "to tell you. And it's fucked up and I'm sorry I didn't let you in, but I didn't know how. Half the time I didn't believe anything even happened because my fucking brain kept skipping over it."

Except you could remember one crucial detail: "Trust me, it takes four minutes before a person goes from attached to their earthen vessel to haunting the science lab." However, despite the awareness you possessed of having witnessed Aiden's death, your brain refused to evoke the visual memory.

You trembled, tortured by the fact that you hadn't been able to save your little brother, and you had no idea if you'd even tried. Ajay appeared at your side, his hand on your shoulder while his narrowed eyes were pinned on Xavier. As he prepared to say something, the trapdoor at the middle of the stage banged open and Wally climbed out, looking furious and ready for war.

💀___________________________

PART TWENTY-FOUR

note: Waiting for Godot is so stripped down that I disliked it immensely. also, please remember that time moves differently between the worlds of the living and the dead. so the 2 seconds it takes Xavier to lose his shit is, like, enough minutes in the metaphysical world for our ghost friends to find the forged receipt. like Narnia...it's been a thousand years O.o (iykyk)

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: i'm afraid i am no longer updating or using the taglist. moving forward, if you'd like to keep up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS. that thing took me to Hell and back, and we're no longer on speaking terms...😒

when she says she doesn’t send nudes

I remember taking French and being confused the whole time I don't think I learned a single thing I didn't already know