crnateâ:
âIâLL RENT A BEACH HOUSE IN MIAMI / WAKE UP WITH NO JAMMIES (NOPE) / LOBSTER TAIL FOR DINNER / JOONIO SERVE THAT SCAMPI.â
There comes a point in Nathanielâs life where each passing day reads more and more like a dream heâs unable to escape. Today is one of those days. Wallace Gothel, himself, - in all his glory, with gloomy eyes challenging his own - sparks the thought that he is absolutely positive heâs trapped in the dream world. His mind urges him to be supportive. He canât seem to muster a genuine glace to match his words; they seep out as sarcastic as ever.
âWow, Wally. You should think about taking up actual rapping, or, like⊠being a slam poet. You should tell Joon your rap about him, though, Iâm sure heâll be real flattered⊠Joonio as in Joon, right?â Heâs halfway through a bite of cereal when he lifts his head once more, stifling a snort. Breakfast among the quirky Hogwarts students is rarely dull, particularly when they are gifted with the freedom of vacation.Â
âYou wanna actually get lobster today? Like dive for lobsters?â Heâs joking, of course.
@crwally
Behind the leaning, wobbling tower of stacked macaroons is a man sitting upright with perfect posture and elbows off the table. He picks through the bowl of macaroons, gathering all the yellow ones in his hands. Wally has always thought yellow is an exquisite color: the color of Hufflepuff house, of fields of buttercups, and of the moonâs worst enemy.
Carefully, he adds yellow macaroons to the tower before him. His lips twist in concentration, leading him to feel the streak of drying buttercream on his chin. He flicks his tongue out, lazily as though half-expecting someone to come around with a napkin and render his efforts moot, but fails to catch it.
âIâm only kidding around!â he says. âItâs all his fault anyway. You see, Joon kindly introduced me to Peter Gene Hernandezâs discography yesterday. Iâve even got all the songs on my OwlPhone now, thanks to him and his discounts. I never knew muggle music could be so expensive...â
Itâs not even eight oâclock yet, but heâs already scammed by Joon and barreling towards a sugar rush.
âIâve never dived for lobster before,â he says. âActually, I donât think Iâve ever seen lobster thatâs not already cracked and buttered. Oh, but Iâd love to try diving for a live one.â He peers around the macaroon tower to smile at Nate. âIâd really, really love to try!âÂ
TEARS OF A RAPPER.
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crryanâ:
INCOMING OWL FORÂ â @crwally
ryan wasnât sure if it was a good idea to follow the older boy into the forbidden forest, especially late at night. he had second thoughts but he couldnât just leave the other to go by themselves. ryan follows wally closely, looking around to make sure nothing was there to hurt them. once they were getting closer to the forest, ryan reaches out to hold their shoulder gently.Â
â are you sure this is a good idea, wally? â
the lemon-yellow glow of his wand illuminates the path ahead, the worried crease in his brow, and the shaking of his knees. wally jolts at ryanâs touch, hair flashing white as the crescent moon above them. ân-n-not entirely, but courage shouldnât be exclusive to gryffindors!â he whispers. âiâm sure that seeing the wolves for myself will cure this stupid...stupid fear of mine.Â
he smiles.
itâs fake.Â
âhufflepuffs are braver together, yes?â
â cowardice â
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crxameliaâ:
@crwally | Fear!
It was very late at night and the professor was mindlessly playing phone games while the student was busy writing an essay in front of her. They were in her office and everything was quiet, enough to make her feel bored.
âFrom all kids out there, I never thought you would get detention, Wallace.â She points out while glancing from behind her phone screen, noticing he barely wrote the very first sentence of his work. âYou know what? Who the hell told you to do that? Iâm the one watching you, so my rules!â
 Amelia put her phone aside and approaches the boy. The smile she flashed was creepy. âWhat do you fear, Wallace? Tell me, clowns? Demons? The dark? Letâs talk about it.âÂ
Thereâs no indulgence that Wallace Gothel will deprive himself of except for one: laughter. His high-pitched, ridiculous giggle is often mistaken for an Erklingâs cackle. No self-respecting pureblood -- which, heâd like to think of himself as -- accepts being compared to a gnome. And so, heâs diligently bitten his tongue and stuffed his head under pillows for years until his unsightly laugh was nothing more than a rumor.Â
âI donât know what came over me, professor,â he says. Some from Ameliaâs class guess heâs suffered a breakdown, while others claimed it's his Miley-Cyrus-Naked-On-A-Wrecking-Ball moment thatâd been a long time coming. One minute, heâd been taking notes. The next minute, heâd burst into laughter! And when Amelia scolded him, heâd blown a raspberry at her, stuck his thumb to his nose, and wiggled his fingers until he laughed again.Â
Stress is a mighty beast.Â
Intimidated by his professor, he looks down at his blank essay. He thinks clowns are delightful and demons to be pitied, but the dark? Wally bites his lower lip. What would Amelia think of him if she knew what the Seer warned him of? What would she think if that prophecy were to come true? âIs this conversation really necessary, professor?â he squeaks. âNormal people things I suppose like...like, uh, marriage!â
He beams.
What an excellent lie!
Too bad heâs a terrible liar.
âIâm engaged and absolutely terrified of marriage.â
âč detention â
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curtain call
@crxaelita | âwith all due seriousness, and iâm not just saying this to annoy you, you donât have to do this.â
âDarling, I donât think you understand my situation,â he says. Lithe fingers nervously wring themselves around his wand, an overly carved and decorated thing ornate as his wardrobe. Heâd insisted on the wand as a youngster, even if his uncle claimed it was foolishly and unnecessarily decorated. Wallyâs always adored exquisite things, even as a young child sticking found pigeon feathers into his caps and pretending pine cones were jewels. But even so, those days -- those faint, distant memories of him presenting an apple crate of pine cones as a treasure chest and a hearing a high-pitched laugh -- are more precious to him than any luxury in the world.Â
âI went to a music shop, sat down by their piano display, and couldnât play a thing,â he says. âNo Mozart, no Beethoven, no Chopin -- not even Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. An employee asked me if I were interested in lessons.â
He grits his teeth.
âAnd if I want to compose? The music is faint in the afternoon and at night, I...I canât hear anything at all!â he says. âWho am I without music? Iâm just some...some snob whoâs got nothing to offer the world!âÂ
A nearly full moon illuminates the pathway, the same one that lead to doppelgangers and rare flowers. âIâm staying in there until Iâm not afraid anymore,â he insists. âI canât be quaking in my boots every time the sun goes down! If I have to keep living like this, I might as well be cursed already.âÂ
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is sephora an instrument ?
âDid I just burn myself . . . ?â | @orionxcr
Wally combs through the curated collection of luxury beauty. His long, lithe fingers graze the edge of the crate as he peers into its contents. He admires a frosted glass bottles of petals floating in pink rose water, opens a pot of snow white cream with gold flakes, and squeezes a clinical looking dropper of a clear solution that smelled like herbs. There were other goodies as well -- less fancy looking plastic jars with cotton pads, blandly decorated tubes that contained cloudy gels, and misters with kitschy designs.
The crateâs contents exceeded an average personâs yearly budget and they were only small, sample sizes. Once he selects the products he wants, Joon will supply the full sized bottles in lovely wrappings. When it comes to shopping for his betrothed, money is no object. A little shopping for his frustrated, pureblood fiancee also keeps his mind off the prophecy.
âOh, the irony of getting her a Muggle gift when sheâs mad Iâve been entertaining Muggle girls!â he huffs, looking up. âDonât let Rushi know I told you her weakness for Muggle potions, though. Thereâs no potion or handbag in the world thatâll make her forgive me after that.â
âDid I just burn myself...?âÂ
Wally looks to the accidentally tipped over bottle, a plain looking one with a red solution dripping all over Orionâs arm. Thereâs fine print in a note from Joon warning them to be careful with anything called a âchemical peelâ, but of course the boys hadnât read it in full. Theyâd been too eager to rifle through the box left in their hotel room.
âIs it tingling? Joon warned me that could happ--oh my, you really are turning red!â he gasps. He immediately digs through the crate, fishes out a pouch of sanitary wipes, and nervously scrubs Orionâs arm. âIf we wash it off now, maybe itâll be back to normal before the bonfire tomorrow!âÂ
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of string quintets;
âI see what you did there.â | @crxisla
He settles into a pleasant nook by the lobby window where heâs basked in the protective, warm glow of sunlight. Wally will unravel come nightfall. Thereâs no chance of him enjoying an evening barbecue this close to the full moon. But for now, scoring a string quintet keeps his mind clear of anxieties. âWhat does the sun sound like?â he muses, pressing his fingers upwards and against the glass. âAnd the sound of a cloud -- yes, weâll put the sound of a cloud on top of that! What a brilliant counterpoint!âÂ
His purple pygmy puff, hiding underneath his coat collar, squeaks in response. âNow, the cloudâs come to pass,â he says, scribbling on parchment. âIt must drift past, slowly...a high and lonely drifting from the second and third violin.â
The pygmy puff pops out from the boyâs shirt and scurries down the length of his arm, where it wrestles with his quill. âI promise weâll make it in time for breakfast,â he says. âIf I donât write this down now, itâll be stuck in my head all day. Now, the sun has its moments where it shines through the clouds. These short bursts of intensity -- it must be played with intensity, like you really were wrestling to be seen through that cloud -- stop, then both melodies slowly come together as one.â
Quill scratches against parchment in feverish excitement. His hair flashes from gold to silver, the color morphing strands falling onto eyelashes undergoing the same change. The metamorphmagus doesnât notice that what was on his head seems to represent what was happening in it. âTwo violins, a viola, and a cello...â he muses. âWho wouldâve thought thatâs all youâd ever need to know what the sun sounds like! You see how it all comes together? You see?â
And as if heâd been touched by King Midas, every strand of hair on his head flashes golden.
âI see what you did there.âÂ
Wally looks up in delight. Thereâs a painfully large grin on his face and a sparkle in his eyes, as though he were a child showing off a crayon drawing. Only, the music he creates is far from crude; itâs divine. âYou do?â he says. âOh, you have excellent taste! My music is second to none.â
His eyes search the other student.Â
âAh...am I late for hotel breakfast?â
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i wonder if i ever cross your mind
âOh...itâs you.â | @crmargotâ
Nothing scares away his latest sweethearts like the appearance of an angry, disappointed ex-girlfriend. Their bodies uncoil and she takes off, darting into the forest with the heavy crunching of leaves. Wally supposes itâs for the best. If heâd been cheating like that Ravenclaw girl -- or had she been a Slytherin? -- then he wouldnât want his face to be seen either.
Wallyâs suddenly jittery fingers fumble for his wand. He almost drops it, to be lost among the dozens of twigs and branches littering the ground. But, he secures his grip and whispers a tired:Â âLumos!â
He wonders if Margot can recognize the girl heâd been with. Wally knew it wasnât right to sneak away from the bonfire with a taken woman, but he made an exception tonight. Wally knew he shouldnât have flirted with her, reciprocated her advances, and agreed to sneak off from the rest of the group. But a nearly full moon hung overhead, looming above him in silver light like the blade of a guillotine. And so, heâd made an exception because heâd felt so lonely, so scared, and so cold.Â
Being with someone always made those feelings go away.Â
Not that Margot would ever understand.
(Such selfishness never crosses the mind of good people like her, heâs sure of it.)
âYes, I do suppose itâs me,â he says, playfully. Tonightâs words simmer with nervous energy, a rare aura surrounding a man whose personality is never anything less than picture perfect. âWhat have you slipped away from the others for? I thought you were having fun out there.âÂ
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ooc: hello, itâs your friendly neighborhood trash can! *finger guns* i would love to have some fresh threads for wally! i owe two (i think) starters on him that take place during the last few days of school, but itâd be awesome to have some event threads! đÂ
if you want a random event starter, please comment with a word, phrase, song, or really whatever youâd like! AND IF YOUâD RATHER IN-DEPTH PLOT (FOR THE EVENT OR OTHERWISE), JUST HIT LIKE AND IâLL NYOOM TO YOUR IMS. ILY ALL <3
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hello everyone, iâve finally returned from hiatus! if you donât remember who i am, then maybe my overuse of the fire emoji will jog your memory heehee~! đ„đ„ \ ( OUO ) /Â đ„đ„Â
iâm excited to greet all the wonderful members coruscoâs gotten during my hiatus! once iâm all caught up, iâll be dropping most of my threads on wally and joon (@crxjoon) as an opportunity to start fresh. iâd love to brainstorm some new plots for the both of them as i get back into the groove of things! & if we were in the midst of plotting before i poofed, then please donât be afraid to poke me in the IMs & remind me of wicked, wild plans we were scheming! <3
i came up with IC reasons for wally & joonâs absence during my hiatus (because iâm super lame), so hopefully by monday iâll have up some self-paras for whatâs going on with them. :DÂ
SO YES!!!! Iâm reading through everyoneâs bios & gathering plot kindling to start some drama! If youâd like to join in on the fire emoji spreading madness, please HMU on wallyâs account!
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crxcole:
âThe eighteen eighties,â Cole repeats because what the hell, who still listens to music from the middle ages. Okay, he knows that it is not the right historical era, but still. âWhat are you, a mummy?â he shakes his head, but then his eyes widen, and he canât help but slam his palm on the table between them. âPop artists? Fizzling out? Dude, a hit song remains a hit song no matter how many years have gone by since its release. Also, how are you familiar with Britney Spears and not muggle pop? I canât believe this! Iâm going to have to teach you a couple of things.â
âMy uncle is biased against muggle things -- especially anything he thinks is pop music! -- so he never let me listen to muggle radio! What a bore! â he whines. âIf you think Iâm out-of-touch now, you shouldâve seen me when I first transferred here. Thank goodness my friends started smuggling CDs for me! I really owe it to them -- if it werenât for their help, Iâd be clueless. Oh, would you? Are Mary Carey and Ceiling Dion the same person?â
iâm gonna live forever đ
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crwally:
crcai:
Thereâs something about the boy that screams beautiful madness. Yes, thatâs the right word to put it for the student seems like heâs been cut out of a story book. A prince that hides insanity with a little bit of humor. And Caiâs amused, royalty has been given a new definition.Â
He watches the other morph into the pop star out of request, and he looks at the now, Britney Spears, still in awe. And he realizes that his ability isnât some sort of a glitch. But he still couldnât persuade himself to try. Itâs dangerous, he knows that and the men who showed him pain in the orphanage knew that too. With that ability, he can corrupt the darkest wizard and even pretend to be king. That thought makes him restless.Â
He blinks at his hand, now realizing what he has done. He nods at the otherâs introduction, mentally taking note of his name and his face, though the later isnât so hard to do. He watches the other lift his hand, as if heâs some sort of painting. Thereâs a subtle smile creeping unto his lips again, heâs getting amused. Wallace Amadeus Gothel, he is as mysterious as his name. Cai never thought being different would look this good.Â
âItâs okay, my hair is the least of my worriesâ he says with a soft laugh, hiding a gruesome childhood isnât something heâs actually proud of. âBut you can teach me sometime, if youâd likeâ he continues as he watches the other studying his hand. âLike perhapsâŠhow to get this back to normalâ he adds.
There are three little words hold the weight of the world so his shoulders never feel the burden. They were just quivering whispers before bedtime during childhood, easily broken and swept away like shattered glass. The words strengthen each time he repeats them and as years of repeating piled on, soon become unbreakable. Even when his voice is soft -- even when itâs joking and friendly like in Caiâs presence -- thereâs an affirmed air to which he says them.Â
âThis is normal.âÂ
He grins.Â
âFireworks in your eyes when youâre mad are normal,â he says. He bites his lower lip in an attempt to close off his grin, but it doesnât work well. âSomeone stealing the pink right off your lips with a kiss is normal. And if youâre tired of being stolen from, stealing someone else entirely is normal too.â
Stealing his new friendâs appearance takes more concentration than when transforming into Britney. Heâs a little off with the pore patterns and ear shape, but heâs proud of how spot-on he morphs the slope of his new nose. Wally sticks out his tongue and laughs -- an exact replica of the soft laugh Cai had made moments ago.
âNyah-nyah, got your nose!â he says. âIt could very well be different for you, but thinking of contentment helps me when Iâm stuck! Not satisfaction or happiness, but...a baseline, you know? Like when youâre sitting in a reading chair with big, plush cushions and everything is silent. Then you make that sigh -- you know what kind of sigh Iâm talking about, right? -- and can stare into space for an hour. Or after you do it with someone.âÂ
His focus goes in for a loop, returning to something Cai mentioned earlier about having worries. Wally wouldnât belong in the house of honeybadgers if it werenât for the ease he can include others with. âAnd if NEWTs have you worried, the Puffs sometimes have a study group in the library!â he says. âThey can help you with just about any subject...well, anything but this. Itâs too bad there arenât classes for Metamorphmagi, isnât it? Iâd like to know how to put on freckles without them tickling!â
wolf children
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crsiwon:
starter for @crwally
there were some days where siwon truly loved the job he had, where each experience filled his heart and left him feeling warm and helpful inside. other times? he wanted nothing more than to give up and disappear from the infirmary for the rest of the night. usually, those nights were the ones that he spent chasing down joon or wally for their night medicines. his feet are heavy and his heels ache with every step, the constant desire to give in and disappear into his office for a nap tugs at him like a young toddler would to their parents shirt.
over and over and over again.
it had been a little over an hour of searching now, and his patience was wearing thin. siwon plops down on the edge of the corridor floor. he presses his back to the wall and takes that moment to run his hands over his burning eyes. for just a moment, he drowns every sound out and allows himself to rest. he had no plans on giving up, he never did when it came to ensuring that the students took the medications they needed when needed. however, for a moment, the healer does contemplate telling madam ophelia all about what wally had put him through first thing in the morning. sure, it was a low blow, but siwon was exhausted and sometimes you have to strike fear in the children to get them to listenâŠright?
â â shh!!â
his thoughts are cut off quick by the sound of hushed voice following the loud squeak of a nearby closet door. the healer squints as he stands and crosses the hall to gently press his ear to the closet door. if it werenât for the loud breathing on the other side of the door, siwon almost would have believed the closet to be empty. he opens the door quickly, only to be met with a swift breeze, and the sight of blue zipping past him and out of the closet doorâŠleaving behind the young gryffindor girl heâd been smuggling inside with him doing gods knows what.
siwon was going to kill him.
Some age-appropriate, innocent snogging and a little heavy petting towards the end isnât worth a visit to the headmaster, is it? Bare feet slap against cold floors as he speeds down the corridor in nothing but a pair of shorts. His clothes are abandoned in the infirmary closet, heaped in a pile along with the tights and cardigan his girlfriend of the week shed off. âSIR, I ASSURE YOU THAT WE WERENâT DOING ANYTHING OBSCENE!â he shouts.
Their emergency exit plan is to distract the school nurse long enough for his weekend lover to slip away, her pretty face lost in a crowd of students. By the time Mr. Siwon corrals him, heâll have forgotten what she looks like. Wally will never tattle and tell her name -- even if heâs interrogated for the next two semesters, even if heâs expelled, even if the cruciatus curse is used on him. Itâs a promise heâd feel comfortable enough making an unbreakable vow on.
Because in all honesty, heâs not sure what her name is.Â
It could be Cheryl, but he thinks he heard Beryl at one point.
Or is it Beverly? She totally looks like a Beverly.Â
At least the running keeps him warm; for a castle filled with floating candles, thereâs a nippy draft tickling his chest. âTO BE PUNISHED FOR LOVE IS UNFAIR!â he shouts, rounding the corner. âI WILL NEVER SURRENDER, SIR!â
â flashing blue
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crxteddy:
âAh⊠yes?â Teddy answers a bit weakly. âFor the most partâŠâ Ah, so he was one of those guys. Although rather hesitant, he still nodded, dog-earing the page of his book and closing it reluctantly. He wasnât going to be able to get back to it for a while. He just feels it. âWhile I agree with youâ oh, Merlin, no! I-I meanâŠâ He quickly retracts his statment and glares at his hands for a moment. His face is burning all of a sudden and he canât help but remember a rather wild night in a house down at Hogsmeade. (Heâs still a little bitter about losing that shirt he was wearing. It was one of his favoites.) Clearing his throat, Teddy corrects himself. â⊠maybe. If I can find us the right party. Sound⊠keen to you?âÂ
âPerfect! And if youâre blushing this hard, then the rumors must be true,â he says gleefully. âYou do like to party.â In Wallyâs mind, the otherâs blushing cheeks confirmed every rumor heâs heard of Thomasâ weekend escapades into Hogsmeade. Heâs not leaving until heâs done prying for all the juicy details.  âWhatâs the craziest party youâve ever been to?â he asks. âCome on, indulge me! Youâll indulge a sheltered pureblood, wonât you?â
bottle of broken rules đŸ
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cranastasia:
out of everything you could expect to happen in a school like this, people being amazed about muggle traditions were probably anaâs favorite. especially since wally made it seem like such a huge deal. she listened to the boy speak, before reaching to pick the apple that was placed on the desk. god, it reminded her about her actual muggle life she used to have.
âwhy thank you wally.â she said, about to take a bite of it, but his next few comments made her lower it on the desk, and smile at him. god, this would be an interesting conversation wouldnât it now?
âyou do know iâm a muggleborn witch, right?â she asked, brow slightly raised as she leaned back into her chair. she wanted to see wallyâs reaction. âi mean, itâs not hard to imagine it, but still, iâm technically a mudblood.â anastaisa knew how the term was usually used, and she was more than a few times called that, so using it herself, wasnât something new.
Wallyâs known for certain refined qualities: the gentlemanly etiquette seemingly memorized from books one-hundred years out of print, a habit of dressing so smart heâll shine his shoes just to enter Hogsmeade, and clear, sophisticated speech with the feathering of a German accent are among those habits. But itâs that word -- that cruel, dirty word pureblood boys shouldnât be saying -- that unravels his composure like a ball of yarn.Â
âA m-m-muh...â he stutters. The ends of the Metamorphmagusâ blonde hair curl from shock, but heâs quick to smooth them out and flash his best fake-it-until-you-make-it smile. âI didnât know that youâre a muggleborn, professor!â he says. âBut now that you mention it, I donât know much about you at all!â
He clasps his hands behind his back and pushes his lips out in a pout.
âThat just wonât do! How will I know how to personalize your gift basket at the end of the semester? Or know what to write on your birthday cards -- oh, when is your birthday? Or what about once I graduate and want to write personal letters to all my professors? And if we continue to not know each other...well, that red apple will be an apple of lies!âÂ
teacherâs pet đ
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youâre not scared, are you? đș
five word sentence starter cont. |Â @crxzekeâ
{continued from here}
âIâm only asking because itâs the proper thing to do after an incident, not because Iâm scared or anything,â he says, sticking up his nose. Wally crosses his arms, twists his torso to avoid facing the other boy, and peeks around the hallway corner. Itâs impossible to apparate into Hogwarts, but that doesnât stop Wallace from making sure his auntie isnât watching him throw a tantrum. Acting this bratty at home is a one-way ticket to having an upset, fuzzy slipper-wearing Aunt Ava smart his knuckles with a wooden ruler. Even if sheâs not physically there to deal the punishment herself, heâs been smacked enough times to feel the sharp sting and her looming presence whenever he misbehaves.
âWhat makes you scared about the public thinks, anyway?â he asks. âMost of them think you can catch lycanthropy by sharing food or holding a werewolfâs baby."
He looks back and makes eye contact with Zeke. The Metamorphmagusâ irises flicker and flash with streaks of white-hot color, as though weeping willow fireworks displays were going off in each one. Moments when the carefully trained, meticulously painted outer shell cracks and his true feelings seep through are rare. Over a decade of being groomed into a proper pureblood canât hide the fact that:
As kind as he is...
As accepting as he is...
As undoubtedly Hufflepuff as he is...
Wallace is still very much an angry little boy.Â
âI donât like werewolves, but Iâm not afraid of them or anything.âÂ
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libretto đ
spring break party |Â @cryuna
It feels as though the past few weeks of his worsening health -- the brink of nervous breakdowns, the dizziness when he stands too quickly, and the fevers endured alongside insomnia -- were a bad dream heâs finally woken up from. All it took was time away from school for him to be rejuvenated into the fresh-faced, flirtatious gentleman heâs known as. Now, his improved physical and mental condition allows him to do what he loves best: host.Â
And part of being a gracious host is picking up on when certain wallflower inclined guests arenât enjoying themselves.
âWould you like a tour around the house? I know a quiet room where none of our dear guests have thrown up in yet.â Wally moves a crystal glass of something red and fruity to his right hand, a small gesture that tends to go unnoticed by most. Then, he offers Yuna his left arm so that they can walk together. Itâs highly improper to have a lady on your right arm while indoors, after all. Â
âWe should go before someone tries roping you into a game of beer pong again. I get the impression thatâs not how you enjoy spending your nights, is it?â he asks, laughing softly.Â
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cheat day đ
@crxrina
Another paper airplane glides into a smooth landing, its wings fluttering the napping girlâs hair but doing nothing to wake her. He squirms in his seat, pouts at a square of parchment, and dips his quill into the inkwell with a jittery, agitated grip. âIf she doesnât wake up soon, Iâll be out of pick-up lines,â he sighs.
His ex-girlfriends and former flings can agree that Wallace Gothel isnât a man of patience. His need to live life in the fast lane seems cute -- pinch his cheeks and tease him for being spoiled until he blushes cute -- while dating. But, breakups have a funny way of exposing a personâs faults for the first time. What were once endearing quirks become irredeemable flaws and his past loves will make clear that heâs not just impatient. Their angry howlers will let all of hogwarts know heâs an impatient, immature, all-around heartbreaking brat.Â
They forget what they originally saw in him. Or rather, they pretend to forget the intrigue of dating a king still growing into the crown. Great things are expected of him and he has big shoes to fill, but heâs not ready yet. Heâs not ready to play politics as the future head of the Gothel estate. Heâs not ready to pursue music without worrying about the disapproval of his aunt. And heâs certainly not ready for commitment. Yet when relationships sour, his exes are frustrated to have fantasized about the finished product rather than accept him as a work in progress.Â
Rina and himself never quite reached that sour stage.
Theyâre still as passionate and intrigued about each otherâs âwork in progressâ as ever.
But depending on who you ask, they may have never broken up.
Thereâs a portion of the student body that thinks they might still be together, but agree on a cheat day every few weeks.
Wally scribbles a generic note about âoh, how I miss you! :(â and âsleeping beauty? come sit with me like we used to :((((â onto the parchment. The other paper airplanes had his favorite lines of âbut youâre differentâ and âyouâre not like other girlsâ. He messes up the folding of the airplane and crumples up the paper, deciding to throw it as is.Â
But, his aim is off.Â
And he knocks over someoneâs drink -- which is definitely not allowed in the library -- and it splashes onto Rina. Wally winces, but he canât help the little voice inside his head saying:Â âWell...the only way to wake this Sleeping Beauty is to dump a bucket of water on her head anyway.â
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