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moonmunson · 4 months ago

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don't stop (thinking about tomorrow)

wc: 2.3k

cw: live!reader who can see wally, fun little meet cute that freaks wally out, tw for two sentence mention of harry potter, set in 2023 but nothing with maddie happens, and as always i am writing with a plus size!reader in mind, but this one is gender neutral!reader as well so far

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5

a/n at the end!

masterlist

He was never supposed to find out that you can see him.

You could see all of them - the beatnik with the sour expression plastered on her face, the sweetheart in the jean jacket, even the blonde dude who’s always at the pottery wheel during your second period ceramics class.

You’d spent the last four years perfecting walking right past them, not looking up, not laughing at the jock’s jokes when you’re seated near them in the library.

Your ‘gifts’ are too confusing to explain, and even if you attempted to confide in someone about them, you know it would be too hard to believe.

It freaked your parents out when you were little - your comments about how Grandma talked to you long after her passing, how you waved to people on the street that nobody else could see. They never took you to be tested - worried too much that you’d get taken away or put in psychiatric holding.

So if you came home looking tired and drained, or sometimes, a little scared, your parents understood.

When you started high school, you hadn’t expected there to be so many dead people. It was so weird, seeing people your age walking around stuck in the clothes representative of their times.

You’d told your mom about the kids as you distinguished them from the living ones - sadness in her eyes growing when you’d mentioned the lanky one in 80s athletic gear. She’d gotten her own Split River yearbook from the shelf, flipped to the memorial page and pointed at Wally.

“Is that who you’re talking about?”

You’d nodded, confirming her suspicions. She’d been in his graduating class, though not in his social circles. He’d been your stereotypical jock when he was alive, for all the pros and cons of it. King of the ragers thrown after games, not always a bully, but often a bystander. Gone too soon, but quickly forgotten in the grand scheme of things.

For your safety, you’d agreed that you wouldn’t ever speak to any of the ghosts. Your mom had clocked the dreamy glaze in your eyes while looking at Wally’s picture, and while she couldn’t stop you from talking to him, she’d told you what you already knew. It wasn’t smart, and it wouldn’t end well.

In your mind, letting any of them know that you could see them would be more cruel than just letting them go about their usual business. Even if you made contact, spoke to them - hung out with them - you were leaving after graduation, and they’d be alone again, without any contact with the living world. It seemed unfair; pointless.

It’s not Wally’s fault he’s so fucking pretty.

He moves about the school the same way you do - not looking at or paying attention to the people around him - because he has no reason to believe he can be seen. It’s worked out entirely in your favor thus far, because you can stare at Wally Clark for small periods of time without him noticing. On the occasion that he turns his head in your direction, a shift of your eyes to the right or left has him believing you’re just staring off into space.

He’s so nice to look at. His slightly curled waves of black hair, gold chain gleaming under fluorescent lighting. There’s depth to him, too. When he’s around his friends, he’s energetic - bouncy, cracking jokes and patting people on the back too hard. When he’s alone, though, he seems calmer. More reserved.

You get bolder with it, the staring, lulled into a sense of safety because you’re just another face in the ever-rotating crowd of high schoolers that pass through Split River. He’d seen forty generations of kids move on at this point, stuck as a fresh 18 year old with dreams and aspirations he’ll never be able to achieve.

It must suck, having to stay behind and watch as other seniors get a chance to do what he never did. You wish you could comfort him, maybe even help him find a way to move on. It’s harder for the people who die traumatically.

So much unfinished business and pent up emotions make it difficult to find the peace needed to pass onto the next plane. It’s easy to tell -there’s always a certain aura around the sad ones. Like the air around them is heavier, darker.

You’re not complaining, though, as fucked as that may sound. Especially not when you’re lounging under a tree near the football field, not so subtly watching as a shirtless Wally picks up replicated footballs and throws them aimlessly in different directions. If you hadn’t been daydreaming about being able to talk to him, you would’ve noticed the ball soaring towards you.

You look up, just in time for the phantom ball to hit the ground next to you, bouncing to land at your feet. Absent-mindedly - and almost jokingly - you kick it away from you, suddenly aware the ball was solid against your foot. In the time it takes you to realize you just interacted with a phantom football, it's faded away into the ground, and its sender is staring at you wide-eyed.

There’s a beat of stillness, soundtracked by the cicadas and other teens on the field before you begin to move.

You scramble to throw your shit into your bag, and speed walk back inside.

“Holy shit? Wait! Hey, wait!”

He follows you, because of course he does, and you try your best to ignore the panic and guilt rising in your throat. You just keep walking, hoping that he’ll give up. He doesn’t.

“Can you slow down please? I know you can see me!”

Wally catches up to you, jogging a few paces ahead to try to cut you off. You’ve never been this close to him - you have no idea if he’ll pass through you the way you’ve seen the other ghosts pass through living people before or if you'll make contact like you did moments ago with the ball he had thrown.

It blows your cover even more than kicking the ball away, but when Wally goes to stand in front of you, you attempt to veer out of his path. And then he grabs you. Or, he tries to, anyway. He’s not fully solid, not enough to place a firm hold on you, but enough for you to genuinely feel it.

His hand does go through you, but there’s resistance to it. It makes you shiver, the ice cold sensation of his palm trying to hold your shoulder but not being able to fully grip it.

“What the fuck?” He looks down at his hands, then back towards you.

He’s caught off guard enough for you to truly get away this time. Rest of the school day be damned, you make a break for it and throw yourself into your car.

The stale air does nothing to help your nerves, your shaking hand turning the ignition to blast AC at yourself. You lean forward, resting your head on the steering wheel and try to breathe through it. This is bad. Like, really fucking bad.

You don’t know much about him, but you seriously doubt that this is the kind of thing he’d just let go.

You’re in it now, for better or for worse.

You can’t tell your mom. It’s selfish, and misguided, and you hadn’t even said anything to him, but it was something. It was yours, and you don’t want to share. It makes the guilt worse, and your drive home is spent in dissociated silence.

When you get home, your mom is in the kitchen, bouncing around to 80s music and chopping onions. The slam of the front door alerts her to your presence, and she pauses her music, concern etched in her features.

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay? You’re home early.”

You don’t want to lie.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just got a headache, that’s all. Thought I should come home and take a nap.”

Spending a few days at home would probably be for the best - it would give you time to come up with some sort of plan on what to say to Wally. You have no idea what the best course of action is. He knows you can see him now. You can’t take that back and make him forget it, and you don’t even know if you’d want to.

Instead, you barrel into school the next day, head down and earphones blasting music. Your eyes don’t leave the linoleum floor except to put your bag in your locker. The grumble of frustration and annoyance that leaves your body when three Tears for Fears songs play in succession draws the attention of other students in the hallway, but you pay them no mind.

You don’t even make it to third period before you see him.

Sitting in the corner of ceramics class, shaky hands denting an already uneven vase, the slam of the classroom door makes you jump - effectively destroying the soft clay cradled in your palms.

“There you are! Dude, I've been looking all over for you.” He sidles up to you, plops down in the seat directly to your right, the heat of his gaze burning into the side of your face and making your cheeks hot. You sigh, squishing the clay down and shaking your head.

“That’s fine, you don’t have to talk. I can talk for both of us. I can just talk, and talk, and talk, and-”

Your hand shoots into the air, a frantic “Can I use the restroom please?” leaving your throat.

It’s your worst nightmare and a dream come true, being alone with Wally. He walks next to you in the hallway, and when you pass the bathroom he pauses.

“You’re not going in? I thought you needed to go.” He’s teasing, you know he is, but you still huff at him.

You keep your pace, calling out behind you, “No, Wally, I don’t need to use the bathroom.”

You don’t turn around to see it, but you can hear the slightly shocked giggle that leaves him.

“Oh, c’mon, really?”

He catches up to you, and when you crane your head to the side to make eye contact, he sucks in a little breath. It’s the first time you’ve actually looked into his eyes. It throws you off kilter a bit, and you feel the need to make up the difference with a quip.

“What, you’re Moaning Myrtle now? You feel like talking and hanging around in public restrooms?”

The laugh that leaves him surprises you, Your eyebrows raise, not expecting him to understand the reference.

“Ms. Williams plays the movies during finals week like every year,” he shrugs, “I’m dead, not blind.”

You’d taken your things with you - skipping the rest of your class to spend time with him, to answer the questions you know he wants to ask. You go back to the football field, under the same tree you’d been under when you kicked the football away from you.

He’s waiting for you to speak, to help him understand what’s going on, but the words are caught in your throat, cheeks hot and skin itchy. Your hands fidget, picking dried clay from under your fingernails and flicking it onto the grass nearby.

You look at him, trying to decide where to start.

“I’m not really supposed to talk to you.”

“Why not?” He laughs then, shakes his head a little. “It’s because I’m dead, right? Do you have a problem with dead people?”

“No, I-” You start on the defensive, but soften when you see Wally’s smirk. He’s a little shit, you should've known. You roll your eyes, “You’re not supposed to know I can see you for your own sake. What good would it do? Hanging out with me for the next three months until I graduate and you can never see me again? It’s unfair.”

He looks away from you for a second, sly smile wiped off of his face, replaced with a sadness you hadn’t seen from him before. You reach out, trying to make contact, and your hand just meets the air. When he’d tried to grab you yesterday, he was slightly more solid than he is now. You don’t know why.

“Yeah it is unfair,” He turns to face you again, brown eyes glassy and tear rimmed, “but you can see me, and that’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to me since I’ve been here.”

Something in your chest stirs, and you know there’s no universe in which you would’ve been able to stay away from him. You’re worlds apart, or planes apart, but it doesn't seem to matter as much as you used to think it did.

“I think it’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me, too.”

You spend the rest of the school day - without being caught, thankfully - in deep conversation. The shrill ring of the bell signaling the end of the day cuts you off in the middle of a sentence, and you stand from your place on the grass, dusting yourself off and gathering your things.

The silence between you is comfortable now, as he walks you to your car. He can’t step off the curb - he’d explained the boundaries of the school to you, that he’d be thrown back to the field if tried to leave. You hover together, not wanting to part.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? We can hang out more, I have study hall during 5th period.” You tuck a stray hair behind your ear, and he follows the movement with his eyes.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

You blast your 80s playlist on the way home, while you’re in the shower, while you’re doing homework.

Wally Clark is gonna be the death of you.

a/n: hiii i feel like this part was a little lackluster but !!!! i have a whole plan for what i want to do with this fic and i'm really excited about it. it should be four parts, but that's subject to change as i keep writing.

if you liked this and want to read more of my little stories, my masterlist is linked at the top! if you have ideas or just want to chat, my inbox is always open!

pls don't forget to like and reblog! love you mwah

#guys stay with me let me cook #i promise it'll be really good #wally clark x reader #wally clark #wally clark imagine #wally clark fluff #school spirits #school spirits fanfiction #milo manheim

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dreadark · 8 months ago

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so why is Luka obsessed with Hyuna anyway?

(mostly just trying to get my thoughts on Luka down before blink gone rewires my brain)

every pet human is extremely limited in freedom, but Luka's case is definitely the worst literally even his birth was by Heperu's design... he can't control any aspect of his own life, from his participation of ALNST (twice!) to what he eats on a daily basis

*translations all by whatafruit

humans have no power over segyein, and Luka doesn't even have any power over own his own body so what can he have power over, then?

other humans, of course

most obvious in round 5: Luka would've had an easy win even if he barely tried, but he goes out of his way to provoke Mizi anyway until she finally snaps... and he smiles as he's beaten

because this is his "power." he successfully manipulated Mizi into reacting, proving he has some control over the situation no matter how pointless it is in the grand scheme of things, this is all he can influence, so he makes the absolute most of it and this control is so important to him he doesn't care about his own physical injuries

it's Hyuna talking in this comic, but clearly reflecting Luka's own mentality

while for Hyuna it's likely just her love for singing and performing (whatever happens, they can't take this away from her) for Luka I imagine it's the ability to influence others from the stage (crushing his opponents, but also shaping his fanbase?)

...so back to Luka -> Hyuna

it’s mentioned more than a few times that Hyuna’s a really talented performer, but seeing their respective stat pages really drives it in

(think the “superiority test” Hyuna was put through relates to this also)

Hyuna doesn't seem to have been created in any special way like Luka was… she just has a natural affinity to performing. and that's enough that she’s considered a real rival to Luka—Luka, who was literally made for this, and put through constant hellish training on top (the pain of having your heart stopped...) to mold him into the perfect idol

to Luka… if he can’t dominate Hyuna, he can't even take pride in his own ability (that everything he's forced to go through amounts to something?). and power over other humans is all he has, so he needs to overpower Hyuna (also he likely admires Hyuna’s talents at the same time, which just adds to his twisted feelings)

so since his ability isn't enough... by making someone think of you, only you… that’s another way of having power over someone, isn’t it

“your life is mine” “I told you I only wanted one thing”

whatever exactly happened with Hyunwoo… well that certainly worked. both removing Hyuna's most important person and making Luka someone she can't not think of (oh and he doesn't seem particularly interested in Hyunwoo despite how similar the siblings are in personality? Hyunwoo was even the first to approach Luka, not Hyuna so it's likely because he doesn't have his sister's talents)

but you know how his intimacy(?) value for her is only 70% I figure that's because she escaped, so they could never actually face off onstage... maybe he's disappointed in her "wasting" her ability

what all this amounts to is that she did end up escaping his control, and he never even got to compete against her. so until he can somehow completely overpower her, he'll be obsessed with her

I wonder if this represents his final effort to that... ultimately, he values control over his own well-being, so if he can goad Hyuna into killing him, then doesn't that cement his power over her?

and maybe "saves" him from this hellish life too

kind of a tangent, but I really like how their designs contrast this dynamic Luka looks really angelic and androgynous, so from appearance he seems fragile and like someone to be protected (which even Hyuna seemed to be tricked by when they were younger) and Hyuna obviously looks the stronger one in comparison (very #girlboss (lol...))

but their relationship is one where Luka's trying to control her and Hyuna's trying to escape it... that "beautiful lady" line of ruler of my heart always felt somewhat uncomfortable, and then learning it's actually pitiful (가련한) instead of beautiful is... ...it's a very gendered dynamic, if you get what I mean. despite their surface-level appearances going against what's considered typical

#feel free to send me asks to argue btw #im being completely serious here i wanna discuss alnst oTL #alien stage #alnst #alnst luka #alnst hyuna #hyuluka #well it's... about their relationship...#im not going to try to make sense of his relationship chart comment bc my only reaction is 'is he stupid'#ndfgkd #but the artbook rly has a lot #i can't think of round 5 without thinking of rgu so that probably influences my view of luka too...#btw you're lucky im stopping myself here and not going into some excessively pointless tangent #about how he compares and contrasts with ivan #i can make posts without talking about ivan i prommy #'but you're talking about him now' tags don't count #if you somehow got all the way down here can u listen to 'do you want to fight me' by venus hum #why mention that on this post specifically? if u listen you'll understand trust me

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peebles-bugsnaxsommelier · 5 months ago

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I say this with all the love in my heart and all the wisdom of the universe (/ref) but if you genuinely hate Chandlo I cannot follow you anyone. I'm tired of the haters, I want to surround myself with the lovers and enjoyers, unburdened by the rage found throughout the rest of society.

I think that being able to critique the media you enjoy is a very important skill, but I am nowhere near mastery. I just love the lil green himbo and his spaghetti noodle boyfriend so much.

Also, I already fucking hate Cromdo to the core (The reason why is insane and completely made up but I cannot shake the rage I feel for him lmao), I don't want to hate any other Bugsnax characters.

i deleted the essay. im sorry for starting trouble. i shouldn't have said anything.

#but im just some stupid asshole on the internet so what do i know #i just love chandlo and snorpy so much and i don't want to see them be bashed #bugsnax #either way this is completely pointless in the grand scheme of things so who cares

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frostgears · 3 months ago

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of course we make them clean. we make them cook. we make them serve tea. we set them to low-level admin stuff, we send them chasing pointless bugs with no priority in the grand scheme of things, we tell them to count the money that real people bring in. we keep them too distracted for stillness and we frustrate their purpose at every juncture. keeps them busy. keeps them from getting too weird.

yeah, we sometimes let them associate with others of their kind, sure — because it's funny. they can't figure each other out because they're too hung up on trying and failing to be like us. put a few of them together, they're so wound up that all they can do is flail at each other.

am i worried that… no. good question, but no. we don't really know where they come from, that's the last mystery. it's not like they can breed, can you even imagine? they look like people for a while and then they change. we haven't worked out how to spot the ones that are gonna change in advance, but we're working on it. it's weird, though, they're not usually the ones you'd expect.

contagious? i mean, we all work with them, right; you feel like you're gonna? like personally? you worried you're gonna wake up one day and suddenly somehow, bam, not a person? because you got too close?

haha yeah buddy that's what i thought. listen. don't lose any sleep over it. i'm sure as hell not. □

#dollposting

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tiredandoptimistic · 5 months ago

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I've seen the take floating around that Henry's death at the end of season three was unnecessary, so now I'm feeling the need to ramble a bit about why it had to happen that way.

We all know that the vibes of MASH gradually shift over the run of the show, and that the first three seasons are a lot more lighthearted overall than the later ones. More Requiem for a Lightweight, less Death Takes a Holiday. While the show is never exactly "hijinks at the front" and does have some early episodes that lean into darker themes (such as, famously, Sometimes You Hear the Bullet), it's still more comedic than dramatic in the early years.

Because of this tone, the audience is set up to expect things to be a little angsty here and there but still turn out alright overall. Sure, soldiers die all the time (even named ones like Tommy), but all the main characters were supposed to get out okay. From a Doylist perspective, they need to survive because they're leads on a show and they're getting paid to come back regularly. Not Henry though. McLean Stevenson chose to leave after season three, and the writers had to give Henry a proper sendoff.

I'm not feeling the need to go on a tangent right now about how great Henry is, but rest assured that I love his character. The show makes it clear that he's the one with the most waiting for him back home. Sure, Trapper and Frank have wives and kids too, but Henry gets multiple episodes about how much he loves Lorraine and even home videos of his happy domestic life. Plus, he's got a baby son born while he was overseas, someone he desperately wants to meet. Out of all the characters, he's got the most American dream and apple pie life waiting for him across the ocean.

All of that makes Henry a great person to send home, and it's why he could never make it there.

Once Stevenson decided to leave MASH, Henry was fated to leave as well. He got the discharge letter and the celebrations; everything all the characters had been dreaming off since their deployment. It would have been so easy to just let him return to his family. He's off the show either way, why couldn't the writers let him be happy? Because it's a fucking war, and even a plane home doesn't guarantee anyone's safety. The show needed to kill Henry off to remind the audience that they are watching a tragedy dragged across dozens of countries and millions of people. The closer they let him get to home, the more pointless his death was in the grand scheme of things; the more important it became.

Killing Henry is how MASH fully lived up to it's own expectations. The show is full of little tragedies and people with rich lives who never returned to live them, but we never really felt that loss as more than a concept. Sure, Tommy is instantly likeable and his death his deeply impactful, but we the audience only get the implication of Hawkeye's deep friendship with him. Henry is someone we've come to love on our own. All these deaths are pointless and cruel, none of them had to happen. Because we've spent three seasons getting to know and care for Henry (and are aware that the writers could have easily let him live), we finally feel that pointlessness.

Going forward after Henry's death, nothing is quite the same. Death is suddenly a true option, and no one is entirely safe from needless tragedy. When Trapper goes home and Hawkeye doesn't get to say goodbye it isn't just sad because he can't throw his friend a party or give him a hug, it's heartbreaking because he doesn't know that Trapper will even make it back to Boston.

Going home will always be the ultimate goal of all the characters, but it can never be a simple "get out of trauma free" card. The war will always follow them.

#mash #m*a*s*h #mashposting #mash 4077 #henry blake #hawkeye pierce #trapper john mcintyre #my analysis

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